the town, Master Aleck, but I hadn't seen one. Did
you catch sight o' any on 'em?"

"I saw Eben Megg," said the lad.

"And he's about the worst on 'em, Master Aleck. Well, it strikes me his
games are up for a bit. He's a wunner to fight, and he'll stick to his
mates; but they won't beat the press-gang off, for when they want men
and it comes to a fight it's the sailors who win. Well, it'd do young
Megg good. He's too much of a bully and rough 'un for me. Fine-looking
chap, but thinks too much of hisself. Make a noo man of him to be
aboard a man-o'-war for a few years."

"Pst, Tom! Listen! They're fighting up at the back there."

"And no mistake, my lad."

For fresh shouts, orders, and another whistle rang out, followed by what
was evidently a fierce struggle, accompanied by blows, the sounds as
they came out of the darkness being singularly weird and strange.

"Let's get away, Tom," said Aleck, huskily; "it's horrible to listen to
it."

"Yes, sir. Heave away, both together. Now, then, she moves. No, she's
as fast as ever."

"Oh!" groaned Aleck, striking both hands down with a loud smack upon the
boat's gunwale and then stopping short as if paralysed, for there were
quick steps, then a rush, evidently up the nearest narrow way among the
sheds.

Then all was silence, and a sharp voice cried:

"Halt there! Surrender, or I fire."

A rush followed the command, and then a pistol shot rang out, Aleck
seeing the flash; but the shot did not stop the man who received the
command. As far as Aleck in his excitement could make out he rushed at
and closed with him who tried to stop him, when a desperate struggle
ensued as of two men wrestling upon the cobble stones, their hoarse
panting coming strangely to the listeners' ears.

All thought of launching the boat was swept away by the excitement of
listening to the struggle, which grew more painful as the voice that had
uttered the command rose again in half-stifled tones:

"This way, lads; help!"

A dull thud followed, as of a heavy blow being delivered, followed by a
fall and the rush of footsteps again, but this time over the loose
shingle, and the next minute a dimly-seen figure approached, running
straight for the water.

But instead of the man running into the harbour, he turned sharp to his
left on catching sight of the boat and staggered up to it.

"Who's that?" he said, hoarsely. "You, Tom Bodger--Master Aleck? Here,
quick, sir; for the lov