ern a few fathoms, and there she hung, towed onwards, as before, by
the "Thisbe," whose crew were thus enabled to rake her decks with more
deadly effect. Still the battle raged as at first.

At length some voices were heard from the bowsprit of the French
frigate.

"Quarter! quarter!" was the cry. "We have struck! we yield!"

"Cease firing, my lads!" shouted the captain; "we have won the night!"

The order was obeyed. For an instant there was a perfect silence, a
contrast to the uproar which had so long continued; even the wounded
restrained the expression of their sufferings; and then there burst
forth one of those hearty cheers, which few but English seamen can give,
and which they so well know how to give with effect. And now many of
the brave fellows who had hitherto worked away at their guns without
flinching, sank down with fatigue, Rolf Morton even then would not go
below.

"I'll stay on deck and see the enemy secured, and get the ship put to
rights a little," he answered; "I am only just showing my boy how I wish
him to behave. While there is duty to do, and a man has strength to do
it, he should not shrink from it, whatever it may cost him."

Ronald listened to what his father was saying.

"That's it, father; I'll try and stick to that," he observed, looking up
in his father's face.

It was now necessary to board the French ship to take possession of her,
but how that was to be accomplished was the question, for not a boat
that could swim remained on board either of the combatants.

The second lieutenant--one of the few officers unwounded--volunteered to
work his way along the hawser, and a midshipman and several of the men
offered to accompany him; Ronald begged leave to go also.

In those days, strange as it may seem, many seamen could not swim.

The boarding-party commenced their somewhat hazardous passage from one
ship to the other. The "Thisbe" had but slight way on her; the hawser
was consequently somewhat slack, and the weight of the people on it
brought it down into the water. The lieutenant and several of the men
clung on, but the midshipman was by some means or other washed off.
Unable to swim, he cried out loudly for help, but no one could afford
it, till Ronald let go his own hold of the rope, and swam towards him.
Of course to regain the hawser was hopeless, and it was equally
difficult to swim back to the "Thisbe." Ronald had practised swimming
from his childhood, and was as mu