aloft or humbled low--
As to fear 'tis all a notion--
When duty calls we're bound to go."--DIBDIN.

The _Tonneraire_ lay at anchor just off the Hoe in Plymouth Sound, as
pretty a craft as any sailor need care to look at. Plymouth was an
amphibious sort of a place even in those days; and there was not a
landsman who had ever been in blue water that, having once caught sight
of the saucy _Tonneraire_, did not stop to stare at and admire her as he
crossed the Hoe. Some, indeed, even sat quietly down and lighted up
their pipes, the better to consider the bonnie ship. Long and low and
dark was she, and though a frigate, the poop was not high enough to
interfere with her taking lines of beauty. She carried splendid spars,
and from their tapering height it was evident she was built either to
fight or to chase a flying Frenchman. But her maintop-gallant masts were
at present below, for the ship was not quite ready for sea. She seemed
impatient enough, however, to get away. The wind blew pretty high, right
in off the Channel, and the frigate jerked and tugged at her anchors
like a hound on leash that longs to be loose and away scouring the
plains in search of game. Everything on board was taut and trim and
neat: not a yard out of the square, not a rope out of place, the decks
as white as old ivory, the polished woodwork glittering like glass, the
brass all gold apparently, the guns like ebony, and the very lanyards
pipeclayed till they looked like coils of driven snow.

Post-Captain Mackenzie was walking to and fro on the poop-deck all
alone, but casting many an anxious glance shorewards, or upwards at the
evening sun that soon would sink over the beautiful wooded Cornish
hills.

"There's a boat coming out yonder now, sir," said the signalman.

"Ah! is there, Wilson? Well, pray Heaven it may be the first lieutenant,
and that he may have had luck."

Twenty minutes afterwards, Tom Fairlie, lieutenant in his Majesty's
navy, but acting-commander under Captain Mackenzie, was alongside in the
first cutter. He was not alone, for several other officers were with
him, and among them our old friend M'Hearty. Jack welcomed the latter,
figuratively speaking, with open arms, then went to his private cabin,
accompanied by Tom, who had been on shore on duty since early morning.

"Sit down, Tom. Now we're off the quarter-deck there is no need for
ceremony. You look tired and starved. Help yourself to wine and biscuits
there