d been made from the battery. Another blue light, however, showed
that the fugitives were getting rapidly out to sea beyond the range of
musketry, and that boats were leaving the port in chase. Before the
light expired a cloud of smoke burst from the battery, and the roar of a
heavy gun rushed over the sea. An instant later and the water was torn
up by grape-shot all round the little boat; but not a ball touched them
save one, which struck Bill Bowls on the left hand and cut off his
thumb.

"I think there's a mast and sail in the bottom of the boat, and here
comes a breeze," said Ben; "give me your oar, and try to hoist it,
Bill."

Without mentioning his wound, our hero did as he was bid; and not until
the boat was leaping over the ruffled sea did he condescend to bind up
the wounded hand with his necktie. Soon they were beyond the range of
blue lights and artillery.

"Have 'e any notion what course we're steerin'?" inquired Bill.

"None wotsomediver," answered Ben.

Soon after that, however, the sky cleared a little, and Bill got sight
of part of the constellation of the Great Bear. Although the pole-star
was not visible, he guessed pretty nearly its position, and thus
ascertained that the breeze came from the south-west. Trimming the
lug-sail accordingly, the tars turned the prow of the little craft to
the northward, and steered for the shores of old England.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

About a year after this stirring incident, a remarkably noisy party was
assembled at tea in the prim little parlour of Mrs Blyth's cottage in
Fairway. Besides the meek old soul herself, there were present on that
occasion our old friends Ben Bolter and Tom Riggles, the latter of whom
flourished a wooden stump instead of a right leg, and wore the garb of a
Greenwich pensioner. His change of circumstances did not appear to have
decreased his love for tobacco. Ben had obtained leave of absence from
his ship for a day or two, and, after having delighted the heart of his
old mother by a visit, had called at the cottage to pay his respects to
his old messmate, little thinking that he would find Tom Riggles there
before him. Miss Bessy Blunt was also present; and it was plain, from
the expression of her speaking countenance, that she had not forgiven
Ben, but tolerated him under protest. Our hero and sweet Nelly Blyth
were not of the party, however, because they happened just th