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.

CHAPTER XI.

WHEN 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 a 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.

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

and without a thought for his own safety he struck out with increased vigor, with Nero swimming by his side.

"Help! I'm sinking!" cried a despairing voice as Ned arrived within twenty strokes of the struggling sailor.

"Don't give in!” cried Ned, "I'll save you!" and he redoubled his exertions to reach the drowning man; he was within a few feet of him when he suddenly threw his arms above his head, and he disappeared just as Ned was about to seize him by the hair. At that moment Nero dived, and following the bright light caused by the struggles of the sinking man, he caught him by the shoulder and dragged him once more to the surface. Without an instant's delay Ned grasped him by the collar. "Hold him, good dog!" cried Ned, who found it difficult to support the weight; but to his astonishment Nero relaxed his grip, and quitting the man he caught Ned by the shirt at the shoulder-sleeve. At this moment the head of the half-drowned man turned, and the bright starlight shone upcn the pale features of Jem Stevens. The dog had recognized him quicker than Ned, and nothing would induce him to assist. It was in vain. that Ned urged him on. Occasionally he relaxed his hold of his master and swam by his side barking loudly, but he avoided Stevens with a stubborn determination. Several minutes elapsed in a severe struggle for life. Jem Stevens was an enemy, but this fact only served to awaken the chivalrous nature of Ned Grey, who clung to him with a gallant tenacity that endangered his own life. Stevens was utterly helpless, he was half dead, and Ned would have been unable to support his head above the surface had not the dog added to his buoyancy by holding him by the shoulder: even with his assistance he was nearly exhausted. Several times he had swallowed large quantities of water, as for a few seconds the dog had relaxed his hold, when the shirt gave way, and Ned sank until Nero once more grasped a

I