French skipper say. "How
you come from? Come, call yourself."

"Uggleston, of the Gap," said Bigley, as boldly as he could. "Blown off
shore, sir, in the squall."

"Aha! Hey, hey? Ugglees-tone. Ma foi, you Monsieur Jonas
Ugglees-tone?"

"No, sir; I am his son," said Bigley.

"What say, sare, you Monsieur Jonas Ugglees-tone, you b'long?"

"Yes, sir; I belong to him. Will you give us something to eat?"

"Aha! You Engleesh boys, big garcon, always hungries. Vais; come
aboard my sheeps. Not like your papa--oh, no. I know him mosh, very
mosh. Know you papa, votr' pere, mon garcon. Come-you-up-you-come."

He said it all as if it were one word, so curiously that it seemed to
help me to get rid of my weakness, and I was about to stand up in the
boat when the French skipper said to Bigley:

"Look you! Aha. Boy ahoy you. What sheep you fader?"

"Do you mean what's the name of my father's lugger, sir?"

"Yes; you fater luggair--chasse maree. I say so. Vat you call. Heece
nem?"

"The _Saucy Lass_, sir."

He leaned over and looked at the stern of the boat and nodded his head.

"Yais, him's olright. Ze _Saucilass_. Come you up--you come, boys.
All you. Faites."

This last was to one of the men, who, as we climbed over the side of the
French lugger, descended into our boat, and made her fast by the painter
to the stern.

The skipper shook hands with us all, and smiled at us and patted our
shoulders.

"Pauvres garcons!" he said. "You been much blow away ce mornings, eh?"

"No, sir, last night," said Bigley.

"How you say? You lass night dites, mon garcon."

"We were fishing, sir, and the squall came, and we've been out all
night."

"Brrrr!" ejaculated the French skipper, shrugging his shoulders and
making a face, then seizing me he dragged me to a hole away in the stern
deck, and pushed me down into quite a snug little cabin with a glowing
stove.

"Come--venez. All you come," he cried, and he thrust the others down
and followed quickly.

"Pauvres garcons! Warm you my fire. Chauffez vous. Good you eat
bread? Good you drink bran-dee vis vater? Not good for boy sometime,
mais good now."

He kept on chattering to us, half in English, half in French; and as he
spoke he cut for us great pieces of bread and Devon butter, evidently
freshly taken on board that day. Next he took a large brown bottle from
a locker, and mixed in a heavy, clumsy glass a stiff jorum of brandy
with water