looking up from his fishing-line.
'That is a most weak-minded ship--a ship which will make no way in the
world. See how she hangs in the wind, neither keeping on her course nor
tacking. She is a trimmer of the seas--the Lord Halifax of the ocean.'

'Why, there is something amiss with her,' I replied, staring across with
hand-shaded eyes. 'She yaws about as though there were no one at the
helm. Her main-yard goes aback! Now it is forward again! The folk on her
deck seem to me to be either fighting or dancing. Up with the anchor,
Reuben, and let us pull to her.'

'Up with the anchor and let us get out of her way,' he answered, still
gazing at the stranger. 'Why will you ever run that meddlesome head of
yours into danger's way? She flies Dutch colours, but who can say whence
she really comes? A pretty thing if we were snapped up by a buccaneer
and sold in the Plantations!'

'A buccaneer in the Solent!' cried I derisively. 'We shall be seeing the
black flag in Emsworth Creek next. But hark! What is that?'

The crack of a musket sounded from aboard the brig. Then came a moment's
silence and another musket shot rang out, followed by a chorus of shouts
and cries. Simultaneously the yards swung round into position, the sails
caught the breeze once more, and the vessel darted away on a course
which would take her past Bembridge Point out to the English Channel. As
she flew along her helm was put hard down, a puff of smoke shot out
from her quarter, and a cannon ball came hopping and splashing over
the waves, passing within a hundred yards of where we lay. With this
farewell greeting she came up into the wind again and continued her
course to the southward.

'Heart o' grace!' ejaculated Reuben in loose lipped astonishment. 'The
murdering villains!'

'I would to the Lord that King's ship would snap them up!' cried I
savagely, for the attack was so unprovoked that it stirred my bile.
'What could the rogues have meant? They are surely drunk or mad!'

'Pull at the anchor, man, pull at the anchor!' my companion shouted,
springing up from the seat. 'I understand it! Pull at the anchor!'

'What then?' I asked, helping him to haul the great stone up, hand over
hand, until it came dripping over the side.

'They were not firing at us, lad. They were aiming at some one in the
water between us and them. Pull, Micah! Put your back into it! Some poor
fellow may he drowning.'

'Why, I declare!' said I, looking over my shoulder as I r