In less than three quarters of an hour a brig of war, with the English colors flying, hailed the Polly, and heaving to she lowered a boat, and upon hearing an account of the late fight she took the lugger in tow. The French schooner was out of sight, and as the captain of the brig was under orders to proceed to Falmouth he declined to begin a chase that would lead him in an opposite direction, especially as the schooner might have altered her course, which would render her discovery most uncertain.

Within an hour of the action the brig was under full sail toward Falmouth, with the disabled lugger in tow, while the wounded men had been transferred to the King's ship, and placed under surgical treatment.

We must now return to the schooner, which steered direct for Dunkerque. As she lost sight of the English cruiser the crew regained their spirits, and heaving the dead bodies overboard they washed the soiled decks and carried the wounded down below. As one by one the dead were examined and stripped prior to being committed to the waves, the sailors who were thus employed came upon the bodies of Paul and Dick Stone. They had just commenced their examination, and had turned Paul upon one side, when blood was observed to flow from one of his wounds, and upon a closer inspection it was discovered that he was not yet dead. As buckets of water were thrown upon the deck in all directions, the heave of the vessel occasionally rolled the water in a considerable depth into the scuppers, where the bodies of Paul and Dick Stone were lying. Having left Paul, they now attempted to lift up the apparently lifeless body of Dick for the purpose of throwing it overboard; with this intention two men laid hold of it by the shoulders and the heels, and dragged it toward the open gangway on the main-deck. Before heaving it over they laid the body down, and one man exclaim

ed, "Mon Dieu! what heavy people are these English! We could throw two Frenchmen overboard with less trouble than one rosbif Englishman!"

As he said these words, to the horror of the Frenchmen the body of Dick Stone suddenly sat up, and looking around with an expression of extreme coolness, he appeared to understand the unpleasantness of his situation, as he exclaimed, in a calm but faint voice:

"You Mounseers are a very purlite people, but I'll not trouble you to heave me overboard, as I can do that for myself whenever it's agreeable.”

Having said this he instinctively put his hand into his trowsers pocket, and drew forth his faithful pipe, which he deliberately filled: he then searched in his other pocket, and produced his flint and steel; striking a light with dif ficulty, he faintly puffed his pipe, and then asked,

"Where's my captain ?"

The Frenchmen pointed to Paul's body. Dick stared mournfully at his commander's lifeless figure.

"Where's the Polly-the lugger ?" continued Dick, still more faintly.

The Frenchmen pointed to the far horizon: "Gone !” they exclaimed.

Dick's eyes glazed and became fixed; the pipe dropped from his mouth; he fell backward on the deck, and his features became rigid; a dense puff of smoke issued from his mouth; the gallant spirit of Dick Stone had parted forever!

"What droll people are these English!" said the Frenchman, who now examined the body with much curiosity; "at last he is dead! Give me a hand, and lift his feet while I take his shoulders; now! one! two! three!"

A dull splash was heard as the schooner steadily continued upon her course.

W

CHAPTER XI.

HEN we last parted from Ned Grey the Sybille, one of the finest frigates of the British navy, was ploughing along with a fair wind at the mouth of the Channel on her voyage to the Indian station. Although strangers on board, it was not long before an incident occurred that raised the new-comers in the estimation of both officers and crew, with whom they had already become favorites. It would have been hard to say which was the greater pet with the sailors-the nigger boy Tim, or the dog Nero. The former had become cook's mate, and was domiciled in the galley, while the latter was allowed to range anywhere except upon the quarter-deck, which sacred spot Nero learned to respect after he had been only a few days on board, and nothing would induce him to trespass beyond the forbidden limit unless called by the captain, who had, specially adopted him.

Captain Cooke was one of the brightest ornaments of the service. Beloved by his men, they were ready to follow him through any danger; and although he was well known to be heedless of a superior force, his attack was invariably attended with success; he was accordingly considered to be a lucky captain, and when others found a difficulty in manning their ships the Sybille was always certain of a superior crew.

The frigate had passed the boisterous Bay of Biscay, and had made a rapid run to the Cape Verde Islands. It was about an hour before sunset that the high peak of St.

Antonio was first observed by a man at the mast-head bearing S.S.E., and as the evening closed this lofty landmark faded from view, and mingled with the gray bank of clouds that concealed the horizon.

The night was fine and starlight, and the noble vessel flew through the water, as with studding-sails set she sailed like a huge white swan over the phosphorescent waves. that sparkled with ten thousand lights, as though in mockery of the bright stars above. The foam rushed from her bows in sheets of mimic fire, while a brilliant stream of light washed her dark sides and glistened in her wake like a river of molten metal as the Sybille woke from their sleep the billions of animalcule-those glow-worms of the deep that light the sailor's path in the dark and fathomless sea. Now a huge polypus gleamed in the depths as though some mermaid wandered with a lamp below; then smaller lights twinkled in the creaming waves, and huge and fiery serpents seemed to chase each other in wild speed as the swift porpoises left their long and brilliant trail illumined in the dark blue sea.

It was a lovely sight; it was one of those glorious ocean scenes that are unknown by those whose lives are passed on shore. Each drop of water teemed with life: there was the so-called barren sea, the watery desert peopled with its countless myriads; the bright universe above; the heavens with their hosts of brilliant worlds so distant, so incomprehensible, equalled only in their infinity by the ocean waves, each of which contained a thousand worlds-life within life -world without end. "The Spirit of God moved upon the face of the waters."

Ned Grey stood upon the quarter-deck and gazed below at the sparkling current as the ship flew rapidly on her way; he thought of home, of his mother, and of Edith; every instant the distance increased between them as the

wind hurried the noble vessel farther and farther away. When, if ever, should he see their loved faces again? These thoughts engrossed his attention, and although he still looked fixedly at the phosphorescent water beneath, he almost ceased to observe the brilliant scene, but merely gazed abstractedly, until a dark object struggling in the silvery stream roused him from his reverie; almost at the same instant à loud cry was raised in the fore part of the ship“A man overboard!" Instinctively and without a moment's hesitation Ned threw off his jacket, and repeating the alarming cry he sprang boldly into the sea.

Rising quickly to the surface after his deep plunge, Ned struck out in the direction of the object that had first attracted his attention-this had vanished.

"Where are you?" shouted Ned. A voice was heard far astern, at the same time Ned felt himself seized from behind by the shirt near the collar; in another instant he felt a mass of silky hair as he reached back, and found himself grasped by the strong teeth of his faithful dog. Nero was by his master's side, apparently sleeping on the deck, when Ned had sprung over the ship's gangway; but upon seeing him disappear the dog immediately leaped overboard, and had succeeded in catching him quickly after his reappearance on the surface.

"Good old boy !" cried Ned, as he endeavored to free himself from the dog; "loose it, old fellow! Let go, old man !" he continued, as Nero resolutely maintained his hold. After some difficulty he released himself from the dog, who then accompanied him toward the object of their search, which could now be clearly made out by the extreme brightness of one particular spot in the water, caused by the struggles of the person in the phosphorescence.

"Keep up till I come!" shouted Ned, to encourage the individual in question, who was about sixty yards distant,