r sometimes, the
_Martin_ managed to reach Spithead in the teeth of a stormy south-
easter, which was sending the surf over Southsea Castle as the big
rollers coming in from the offing broke against the pile-protected
rampart below; and, we were just going to anchor in our usual berth
under the lee of the Spit, `Gyp' standing as well as he could with his
rickety sea-legs by the taffrail.

He was watching me coming down from aloft, where I had gone with some of
the other boys of the starboard watch to furl the mizzen-topsail,
waiting, poor fellow, to greet me with a sniff of welcome; when, in the
excitement of my near approach, he wagged his tail somewhat incautiously
and, thereby losing his footing, the affectionate animal fell overboard.

CHAPTER TWELVE.

"DRAFTED."

Shouting out without thinking as loud as I could, "Man overboard!" I
plunged into the tideway after him; and, before `Gyp' knew where he was
or had time to shake the water out of his eyes and ears after rising
from his unexpected plunge, breasting the choppy seas with his quick-
working paws and paddling all round in a circle in his flurry, I had
struck out after him, gripping him by the collar in half a dozen
strokes.

Poor old chap, he whined and licked my face as I came alongside him, his
wistful eyes saying as plainly as dog could speak, "Thank God, Tom,
you've come to help me," or something to that effect.

I was a good swimmer, having won the long-distance prize in our summer
sports off Haslar Creek; but, I now found the task of battling with the
big billows brought in by the south-easter, which were all the rougher
from the cross tide setting against them, none too easy, wind and sea-
going one way and the tide another.

I could hardly make a stroke towards the beach, which I aimed for at
first, the undercurrent pulling me back and sweeping me out seaward;
while, the rough water, smacking against my face, bothered me and
palsied my every effort.

They had let go the life-buoy, of course, on board the brig when I sang
out before jumping off from the taffrail; but the buoy was more
difficult to reach than the shore, the wind catching it up and tossing
it from wave crest to wave crest till it was cast up on top of one of
the piles in front of the Castle far ahead.

Treading water to regain my breath after a futile struggle of some
minutes' duration, and holding poor `Gyp's' head well up so that he
should not be drowned by the spent sea