uise of it," observed
McAllister one afternoon, as we walked the deck together, having just
partaken of an especially good dinner, dressed by our most polite and
obsequious prisoner, Lieutenant Preville. "If we could but fall in with
two or three more fat prizes we should be able to set up as independent
gentlemen when we get back home again, and I should be able to regain
the lands of the McAllisters from the southern churl who has dared to
take possession of them."

"They are not very extensive, then, I conclude," I observed. "A
midshipman's share of prize-money, even for the richest galleon of old
Spain, would not go far to purchase much of an estate."

"Extensive! my boy; I wish you could just come north and have a look at
them," exclaimed McAllister. "You can't see from one end to the other,
and there is the finest of fine old towers, which would be perfectly
habitable, if it were not for the want of windows, and floors, and
doors, and other woodwork; and as to the lands, to be sure there is a
somewhat considerable preponderance of bog and moor, but oats and
potatoes grow finely on the hillsides. Ah, my boy, I know well enough
what's what--the value of rich pastures and corn-fields--but there's
nothing like the home of one's ancestors--the heathery hills of old
Scotland--for all that."

My shipmate spoke with deep feeling, though he had begun in a
half-joking vein. Our prisoner joined us, and put a stop to the
conversation. He offered to go down for his guitar, and, returning with
it on deck, he touched the strings, and sang a light French song with
much taste and with a fair voice. We complimented him on his
performance.

"Ah, you like singing; I will sing to you night and day, ma foi," he
observed. "It is a satisfaction to a man of sentiment to give pleasure
to his friends, and I look upon you as my friends in spite of our
relative positions. They arise from the circumstances of war. We are
friends--true friends--why should we be otherwise?" Then he resumed his
guitar and sang again as gaily as before.

We and our consort kept close together, and as the sailing powers of the
two vessels were pretty equal, there was little danger of our being
separated. Two days after this it fell a dead calm. There we lay, not
quite steady, but rolling gently from side to side, moved by the
scarcely perceptible and glassy undulations which rose under our keels.
The sails went flap-flap against the masts in the