As he became more accustomed to the scene around him, and found that the waves were more terrible in appearance than reality, Bob began to enjoy it, and to take in its grandeur and wildness.  The bareness of the deck had struck him, at once; and he now saw that four of the cannon were gone ­the two forward guns, on each side ­and he rightly supposed that these must have been run out, and tumbled overboard, to lighten the ship forward, and enable her to rise more easily to the waves.

An hour later, the second mate came along.

“You had better come down and get some breakfast,” he said.  “I am going down first.”

Bob threw off the rope, and followed the mate down into the cabin.  Mr. Probert had just turned out.  He had been lying down for two or three hours, having gone down as daylight broke.

“The captain says you had better take something before you go on deck, Mr. Probert,” the second mate said.  “He will come down, afterwards, and turn in for an hour or two.”

“No change, I suppose?”

“No.  She goes over it like a duck.  The seas are more regular, now, and she is making good weather of it.”

Bob wondered, in his own mind, what she would do if she was making bad weather.

The meal was an irregular one.  The steward brought in three large mugs, half filled with coffee; a basket of biscuits, and a ham.  From this he cut off some slices, which he laid on biscuits; and each of them ate their breakfast, holding their mugs in one hand, and their biscuits and ham in the other.

As soon as they had finished, the two officers went on deck and, directly afterwards, the captain came down.  Bob chatted with him until he had finished his breakfast, and then went up on deck again, for two or three hours.  At the end of that time he felt so completely exhausted, from the force of the wind and the constant change of the angle at which he was standing, that he was glad to go below and lie down again.

There was no regular dinner, the officers coming below by turns, and taking a biscuit and a chunk of cold meat, standing.  But at teatime the captain and second mate came down together; and Bob, who had again been up on deck for a bit, joined them in taking a large bowl of coffee.

“I think the wind is blowing harder than ever,” he said to the captain.

“Yes, the glass has begun to rise a little, and that is generally a sign you are getting to the worst of it.  I expect it is a three days’ gale, and we shall have it at its worst, tonight.  I hope by this time, tomorrow, we shall be beginning to shake out our reefs.

“You had better not go up, any more.  It will be dark in half an hour, and your bunk is the best place for you.”

Bob was not sorry to obey the order, for he felt that the scene would be a very terrible one, after dark.  The night, however, seemed to him to be a miserably long one; for he was only able to doze off occasionally, the motion being so violent that he had to jam himself in his berth, to prevent himself from being thrown out.  The blows with which the waves struck the ship were tremendous; and so deeply did she pitch that, more than once, he thought that she would never come up again; but go down, head foremost.  Once he thought he heard a crash, and there were orders shouted, on the deck above him; but he resisted the desire to go up and see what it was, for he knew that he could do nothing; and that, in the darkness, he could see but little of what was going on.

With the first gleam of daylight, however, he got out of the bunk.  He had not attempted to undress, having taken off his shoes, only, when he lay down.  Having put these on again, he went up.  There was but little change since the previous morning but, looking forward, he saw that the bowsprit was gone, and the fore-topmast had been carried away.  The sea was as high as ever, but patches of blue sky showed overhead between the clouds, and the wind was blowing somewhat less violently.

“We have been in the wars, you see, youngster,” the captain said, when Bob made his way aft; “but we may thank God it was no worse.  We have had a pretty close squeak of it, but the worst is over, now.  The wind is going down, and the gale will have blown itself out by this evening.  It was touch-and-go several times during the night and, if she had had a few more tons of cargo in her, she would never have risen from some of those waves; but I think, now, we shall see Oporto safely ­which was more than I expected, about midnight.”

For some hours Bob, himself, had considerable doubts as to this, so deeply did the brig bury herself in the waves; but after twelve o’clock the wind fell rapidly and, although the waves showed no signs of decreasing in height, their surface was smoother, and they seemed to strike the vessel with less force and violence.

“Now, Mr. Probert,” said the captain, “do you and Joe turn in, till first watch.  I will take charge of the deck.  After that, you can set regular watches again.”

The main-topsail was already on her and, at six o’clock, the captain had two of its reefs shaken out; and the other reef was also loosed, when Mr. Probert came up and took charge of the first watch, at eight bells.  That night Bob lay on the floor, for the motion was more violent than before ­the vessel rolling, gunwale under ­for the wind no longer pressed upon her sails, and kept her steady, and he would have found it impossible to maintain his position in his berth.

In the morning, he went up.  The sun was rising in an unclouded sky.  There was scarce a breath of wind.  The waves came along in high, glassy rollers ­smooth mounds of water which extended, right and left, in deep valleys and high ridges.  The vessel was rolling tremendously, the lower yards sometimes touching the water.  Bob had to wait some time before he could make a rush across to the bulwark and, when he did so, found it almost impossible to keep his feet.  He could see that the men forward were no longer crouching for shelter under the break of the fo’castle, but were holding on by the shrouds or stays, smoking their pipes, and laughing and joking together.  Until the motion abated somewhat, it was clearly impossible to commence the work of getting things in order.

“Did the bowsprit and mast both go, together?” Bob asked Joe Lockett, who was holding on to the bulwark, near him.

“Yes, the bowsprit went with the strain when she rose, having buried herself halfway up the waist; and the topmast snapped like a carrot, a moment later.  That was the worst dive we made.  There is no doubt that getting rid of the leverage of the bowsprit, right up in her eyes, eased her a good bit; and as the topmast was a pretty heavy spar, too, that also helped.”

“How long will it be before the sea goes down?”

“If you mean goes down enough for us to get to work ­a few hours.  If you mean goes down altogether, it will be five or six days before this swell has quite flattened down, unless a wind springs up from some other quarter.”

“I meant till the mast can be got up again.”

“Well, this afternoon the captain may set the men at work; but I don’t think they would do much good, and there would be a good chance of getting a limb broken.  As long as this calm holds there is no hurry, one way or the other.”

“You mean, because we couldn’t be sailing, even if we had everything set?”

“Well, yes, that is something, but I didn’t mean that.  I am not thinking so much of our sailing, as of other people’s.  We are not very fit, as we are now, either for fighting or running, and I should be sorry to see a French privateer coming along; but as long as the calm continues, there is no fear of that; and I expect there have been few ships out, in this gale, who have not got repairs to do as well as we have.”

After dinner, an effort was made to begin the work; but the captain soon ordered the men to desist.

“It is of no use, Mr. Probert.  We shall only be getting some of the men killed.  It wouldn’t be possible to get half done before dark and, if the sea goes down a bit, tonight, they will get as much done in an hour’s work, in the morning, as they would if they were to work from now to sunset.

“The carpenter might get some canvas, and nail it so as to hide those gaps in the bulwark.  That will be something done.  The boys can give it a coat of paint, in the morning.  But as for the spar, we must leave it.”

All hands were at work, next morning, with the first gleam of daylight.  The rollers were still almost as high as the day before; but there was now a slight breath of wind, which sufficed to give the vessel steerage way.  She was put head to the rollers, changing the motion from the tremendous rolling, when she was lying broadside to them, for a regular rise and fall that interfered but little with the work.  A spare spar was fitted in the place of the bowsprit, the stump of the topmast was sent down, and the topgallant mast fitted in its place and, by midday, the light spars were all in their places again, and the brig was showing a fair spread of canvas; and a casual observer would, at a distance, have noticed but slight change in her appearance.

“That has been a good morning’s work,” the captain said, as they sat down to dinner.  “We are a little short of head-sail, but that will make no great difference in our rate of sailing, especially if the wind is aft.  We are ready to meet with another storm again, if it should come ­which is not likely.

“We are ready for anything, in fact, except a heavily-armed privateer.  The loss of four of our guns has crippled us.  But there was no choice about the matter; it went against my heart to see them go overboard, but it was better to lose four guns than to lose the ship.

“I hope we shall meet with nothing till we get through the Straits.  I may be able to pick up some guns, at Gibraltar.  Prizes are often brought in there, and condemned, and there are sales of stores; so I hope to be able to get her into regular fighting trim, again, before I clear out from there.

“I should think you won’t be sorry when we drop anchor off the Mole, youngster?”

“I am in no hurry, now,” Bob said.  “I would have given a good deal ­if I had had it ­two days ago, to have been on dry land but, now that we are all right again, I don’t care how long we are, before we get there.  It is very warm and pleasant, a wonderful change after what it was when we sailed.

“Whereabouts are we, captain?”

“We are a good bit farther to the east than I like,” the captain replied.  “We have been blown a long way into the bay.  There is a great set of current, in here.  We have drifted nearly fifty miles in, since noon yesterday.  We are in 4 degrees 50 minutes west longitude, and 45 degrees latitude.”

“I don’t think that means anything to me.”

“No, I suppose not,” the captain laughed.  “Well, it means we are nearly due west of Bordeaux, and about one hundred miles from the French coast, and a little more than eighty north of Santander, on the Spanish coast.  As the wind is sou’-sou’west we can lay our course for Cape Ortegal and, once round there, we shall feel more comfortable.”

“But don’t you feel comfortable at present, captain?”

“Well, not altogether.  We are a good deal too close in to the French coast; and we are just on the track of any privateer that may be making for Bordeaux, from the west or south, or going out in those directions.  So, although I can’t say I am absolutely uncomfortable, I shall be certainly glad when we are back again on the regular track of our own line of traffic for the Straits or Portugal.  There are English cruisers on that line, and privateers on the lookout for the French, so that the sound of guns might bring something up to our assistance; but there is not much chance of meeting with a friendly craft, here ­unless it has, like ourselves, been blown out of its course.”

A lookout had already been placed aloft.  Several sails were seen in the distance, in the course of the afternoon, but nothing that excited suspicion.  The wind continued light and, although the brig had every sail set, she was not making more than five and a half knots an hour through the water.  In the evening the wind dropped still more and, by nine o’clock, the brig had scarcely steerage way.

“It is enough to put a saint out of temper,” the captain said, as he came down into the cabin, and mixed himself a glass of grog before turning in.  “If the wind had held, we should have been pretty nearly off Finisterre, by morning.  As it is, we haven’t made more than forty knots since we took the observation, at noon.”

Bob woke once in the night; and knew, by the rippling sound of water, and by the slight inclination of his berth, that the breeze had sprung up again.  When he woke again the sun was shining brightly, and he got up and dressed leisurely; but as he went into the cabin he heard some orders given, in a sharp tone, by the captain on deck, and quickened his pace up the companion, to see what was going on.

“Good morning, Mr. Lockett!” he said to the second mate, who was standing close by, looking up at the sails.

“Good morning, Master Repton!” he replied, somewhat more shortly than usual.

“There is a nice breeze this morning,” Bob went on.  “We seem going on at a good rate.”

“I wish she were going twice as fast,” the mate said.  “There is a gentleman over there who seems anxious to have a talk with us, and we don’t want to make his acquaintance.”

Bob looked round and saw, over the quarter, a large lugger some three miles away.

“What vessel is that?” he asked.

“That is a French privateer ­at least, there is very little doubt about it.  We must have passed each other in the dark for, when we first made him out, he was about four miles away, sailing northeast.  He apparently sighted us, just as we made him out; and hauled his wind, at once.  He has gained about a mile on us, in the last two hours.  We have changed our course; and are sailing, as you see, northwest, so as to bring the wind on our quarter; and I don’t think that fellow has come up much, since.  Still, he does come up.  We feel the loss of our sail, now.”

It seemed to Bob, looking up, that there was already an immense amount of canvas on the brig.  Stunsails had been set on her, and she was running very fast through the water.

“We seem to have more canvas set than that vessel behind us,” he said.

“Yes, we have more, but those luggers sail like witches.  They are splendid boats, but they want very big crews to work them.  That is the reason why you scarcely ever see them, with us, except as fishing craft, or something of that sort.  I daresay that lugger has a hundred men on board ­eighty, anyhow ­so it is no wonder we sometimes get the worst of it.  They always carry three hands to our two and, very often, two to our one.  Of course we are really a trader, though we do carry a letter of marque.  If we were a regular privateer, we should carry twice as many hands as we do.”

Walking to the poop rail, Bob saw that the men were bringing up shot, and putting them in the racks by the guns.  The breech covers had been taken off.  The first officer was overlooking the work.

“Well, lad,” Captain Lockett said, coming up to him, “you see that unlucky calm has got us into a mess, after all and, unless the wind drops again, we are going to have to fight for it.”

“Would the wind dropping help us, sir?”

“Yes, we have more canvas on her than the lugger carries and, if the breeze were lighter, should steal away from her.  As it is, she doesn’t gain much; but she does gain and, in another two or three hours, she will be sending a messenger to ask us to stop.”

“And what will you do, captain?”

“We shall send another messenger back, to tell her to mind her own business.  Then it will be a question of good shooting.  If we can knock out one of her masts, we shall get off; if we can’t, the chances are we shall see the inside of a French prison.

“If she once gets alongside, it is all up with us.  She can carry us, by boarding; for she can throw three times our strength of men on to our deck.”

There was but little talking on board the brig.  When the men had finished their preparations, they stood waiting by the bulwarks; watching the vessel in chase of them, and occasionally speaking together in low tones.

“You may as well pipe the hands to breakfast, Mr. Probert.  I have told the cook to give them an extra good meal.  After that, I will say a few words to them.

“Now, Master Repton, we may as well have our meal.  We mayn’t get another good one, for some time; but I still hope that we shall be able to cripple that fellow.  I have great faith in that long eighteen.  The boatswain is an old man-o’-war’s-man, and is a capital shot.  I am a pretty good one, myself and, as the sea is smooth, and we have a good steady platform to fire from, I have good hope we shall cripple that fellow before he comes up to us.”

There was more talking than usual, at breakfast.  Captain Lockett and the second mate both laughed, and joked, over the approaching fight.  Mr. Probert was always a man of few words, and he said but little, now.

“The sooner they come up, the better,” he growled.  “I hate this running away, especially when you can’t run fastest.”

“The men will all do their best, I suppose, Probert?  You have been down among them.”

The first mate nodded.

“They don’t want to see the inside of a prison, captain, no more than I do.  They will stick to the guns; but I fancy they know, well enough, it will be no use if it comes to boarding.”

“No use at all, Probert.  I quite agree with you, there.  If she comes up alongside, we must haul down the flag.  It is of no use throwing away the men’s lives, by fighting against such odds as that.  But we mustn’t let her get up.”

“That is it, sir.  We have got to keep her off, if it can be done.  We shall have to haul our wind a little, when we begin, so as to get that eighteen to bear on her.”

“Yes, we must do that,” the captain said.  “Then we will get the other four guns over on the same side.”

After breakfast was over, the captain went up and took his station at the poop rail.  The men had finished their breakfast and, on seeing that the captain was about to address them, moved aft.

“My lads,” he said, “that Frenchman behind will be within range, in the course of another hour.  What we have got to do is to knock some of her spars out of her and, as she comes up slowly, we shall have plenty of time to do it.  I daresay she carries a good many more guns than we do, but I do not suppose that they are heavier metal.  If she got alongside of us, she would be more than our match; but I don’t propose to let her get alongside and, as I don’t imagine any of you wish to see the inside of a French prison, I know you will all do your best.

“Let there be no hurrying in your fire.  Aim at her spars, and don’t throw a shot away.  The chances are all in our favour; for we can fight all our guns, while she can fight only her bow chasers ­at any rate, until she bears up.  She doesn’t gain on us much now and, when she comes to get a few shot holes in her sails, it will make the difference.  I shall give ten guineas to be divided among the men at the first gun that knocks away one of her spars; and five guineas, besides, to the man who lays the gun.”

The men gave a cheer.

“Get the guns all over to the port side.  I shall haul her wind, a little, as soon as we are within range.”

By five bells, the lugger was within a mile and a half.  The men were already clustered round the pivot gun.

“Put her helm down, a little,” the captain ordered.  “That is enough.

“Now, boatswain, you are well within range.  Let us see what you can do.  Fire when you have got her well on your sights.”

A few seconds later there was a flash, and a roar.  All eyes were directed on the lugger, which the captain was watching through his glass.  There was a shout from the men.  The ball had passed through the great foresail, a couple of feet from the mast.

“Very good,” the captain said.  “Give her a trifle more elevation, next time.  If you can hit the yard, it will be just as good as hitting the mast.

“Ah!  There she goes!”

Two puffs of white smoke broke out from the lugger’s bow.  One shot struck the water nearly abreast of the brig, at a distance of ten yards.  The other fell short.

“Fourteens!” the captain said.  “I thought she wouldn’t have eighteens, so far forward.”

Shot after shot was fired but, so far, no serious damage had been caused by them.  The brig had been hulled once, and two shots had passed through her sails.

The captain went, himself, to the pivot gun; and laid it carefully.  Bob stood watching the lugger intently, and gave a shout as he saw the foresail run rapidly down.

“It is only the slings cut,” the second mate ­who was standing by him ­said.  “They will have it up again, in a minute.  If the shot had been the least bit lower, it would have smashed the yard.”

The lugger came into the wind and, as she did so, eight guns flashed out from her side while, almost at the same moment, the four broadside guns of the Antelope were, for the first time, discharged.  Bob felt horribly uncomfortable, for a moment, as the shot hummed overhead; cutting one of the stunsail booms in two, and making five fresh holes in the sails.

“Take the men from the small guns, Joe, and get that sail in,” the captain said.  “Its loss is of no consequence.”

In half a minute, the lugger’s foresail again rose; and she continued the chase, heading straight for the brig.

“He doesn’t like this game of long bowls, Probert,” the captain said.  “He intends to come up to board, instead of trusting to his guns.

“Now, boatswain, you try again.”

The brig was now sailing somewhat across the lugger’s bows, so that her broadside guns ­trained as far as possible aft ­could all play upon her; and a steady fire was kept up, to which she only replied by her two bow chasers One of the men had been knocked down, and wounded, by a splinter from the bulwark; but no serious damage had so far been inflicted, while the sails of the lugger were spotted with shot holes.

Bob wished, heartily, that he had something to do; and would have been glad to have followed the first mate’s example ­that officer having thrown off his coat, and taken the place of the wounded man in working a gun ­but he felt that he would only be in the way, did he try to assist.  Steadily the lugger came up, until she was little more than a quarter of a mile behind them.

“Now, lads,” the captain shouted, “double shot the guns ­this is your last chance.  Lay your guns carefully, and all fire together, when I give the word.

“Now, are you all ready?  Fire!”

The five guns flashed out together, and the ten shot sped on their way.  The splinters flew from the lugger’s foremast, in two places; but a cry of disappointment rose, as it was seen that it was practically uninjured.

“Look, look!” the captain shouted.  “Hurrah, lads!” and a cloud of white canvas fell over, to leeward of the lugger.

Her two masts were nearly in line, and the shot that had narrowly missed the foremast, and passed through the foresail, had struck the mainmast and brought it, and its sail, overboard.  The crew of the brig raised a general cheer.  A minute before a French prison had stared them in the face, and now they were free.  The helm was instantly put up, and the brig bore straight away from her pursuer.

“What do you say, Probert?  Shall we turn the tables, now, and give her a pounding?”

“I should like to, sir, nothing better; but it would be dangerous work.  Directly she gets free of that hamper, she will be under command, and will be able to bring her broadside to play on us; and if she had luck, and knocked away one of our spars, she would turn the tables upon us.  Besides, even if we made her strike her colours, we could never take her into port.  Strong handed as she is, we should not dare to send a prize crew on board.”

“You are right, Probert ­though it does seem a pity to let her go scot free, when we have got her almost at our mercy.”

“Not quite, sir.  Look there.”

The lugger had managed to bring her head sufficiently up into the wind for her broadside guns to bear, and the shot came hurtling overhead.  The yard of the main-topsail was cut in sunder, and the peak halliard of the spanker severed, and the peak came down with a run.  They could hear a faint cheer come across the water from the lugger.

“Leave the guns, lads, and repair damages!” the captain shouted.

“Throw off the throat halliards of the spanker, get her down, and send a hand up to reef a fresh rope through the blocks, Mr. Probert.

“Joe, take eight men with you, and stow away the topsail.  Send the broken yard down.

“Carpenter, see if you have got a light spar that will do, instead of it.  If not, get two small ones, and lash them so as to make a splice of it.”

In a minute the guns of the lugger spoke out again but, although a few ropes were cut away, and some more holes made in the sails, no serious damage was inflicted and, before they were again loaded, the spanker was rehoisted.  The lugger continued to fire, but the brig was now leaving her fast.  As soon as the sail was up, the pivot gun was again set to work; and the lugger was hulled several times but, seeing that her chance of disabling the brig was small, she was again brought before the wind.

In half an hour a new topsail yard was ready, and that sail was again hoisted.  The Antelope had now got three miles away from the lugger.  As the sail sheeted home, the second mate shouted, from aloft: 

“There is a sail on the weather bow, sir!  She is close hauled, and sailing across our head.”

“I see her,” the captain replied.

“We ought to have noticed her before, Mr. Probert.  We have all been so busy that we haven’t been keeping a lookout.

“What do you make her to be, Joe?” he said to the second mate.

“I should say she was a French frigate, sir.”

The captain ascended the shrouds with his glass, remained there two or three minutes watching the ship, and then returned to the deck.

“She is a frigate, certainly, Mr. Probert, and by the cut of her sails I should say a Frenchman.  We are in an awkward fix.  She has got the weather gage of us.  Do you think, if we put up helm and ran due north, we should come out ahead of her?”

The mate shook his head.

“Not if the wind freshens, sir, as I think it will.  I should say we had best haul our wind, and make for one of the Spanish ports.  We might get into Santander.”

“Yes, that would be our best chance.

“All hands ’bout ship!”

The vessel’s head was brought up into the wind, and payed off on the other tack, heading south ­the frigate being, now, on her weather quarter.  This course took the brig within a mile and a half of the lugger, which fired a few harmless shots at her.  When she had passed beyond the range of her guns, she shaped her course southeast by east for Santander, the frigate being now dead astern.  The men were then piped to dinner.

“Is she likely to catch us, sir?” Bob asked, as they sat down to table.

“I hope not, lad.  I don’t think she will, unless the wind freshens a good deal.  If it did, she would come up hand over hand.

“I take it she is twelve miles off, now.  It is four bells, and she has only got five hours’ daylight, at most.  However fast she is, she ought not to gain a knot and a half an hour, in this breeze and, if we are five or six miles ahead when it gets dark, we can change our course.  There is no moon.”

They were not long below.

“The lugger is under sail again, sir,” the second mate, who was on duty, said as they gained the deck.

“They haven’t been long getting up a jury mast,” Captain Lockett said.  “That is the best of a lug rig.  Still, they have a smart crew on board.”

He directed his glass towards the lugger, which was some five miles away.

“It is a good-sized spar,” he said, “nearly as lofty as the foremast.  She is carrying her mainsail with two reefs in it and, with the wind on her quarter, is travelling pretty nearly as fast as she did before.  Still, she can’t catch us, and she knows it.

“Do you see, Mr. Probert, she is bearing rather more to the north.  She reckons, I fancy, that after it gets dark we may try to throw the frigate out; and may make up that way, in which case she would have a good chance of cutting us off.  That is awkward, for the frigate will know that; and will guess that, instead of wearing round that way, we shall be more likely to make the other.”

“That is so,” the mate agreed.  “Still, we shall have the choice of either hauling our wind and making south by west, or of running on, and she can’t tell which we shall choose.”

“That is right enough.  It is just a toss up.  If we run, and she runs, she will overtake us; if we haul up close into the wind, and she does the same, she will overtake us, again; but if we do one thing, and she does the other, we are safe.

“Then again, we may give her more westing, after it gets dark, and bear the same course the lugger is taking.  She certainly won’t gain on us, and I fancy we shall gain a bit on her.  Then in the morning, if the frigate is out of sight, we can make for Santander, which will be pretty nearly due south of us, then; or, if the lugger is left well astern we can make a leg north, and then get on our old course again, for Cape Ortegal.  The lugger would see it was of no use chasing us, any further.”

“Yes, I think that is the best plan of the three, captain.

“I see the frigate is coming up.  I can just make out the line of her hull.  She must be a fast craft.”

The hours passed on slowly.  Fortunately the wind did not freshen, and the vessels maintained their respective positions towards each other.  The frigate was coming up, but, when it began to get dusk, she was still some six miles astern.  The lugger was five miles away, on the lee quarter, and three miles northeast of the frigate.  She was still pursuing a line that would take her four miles to the north of the brig’s present position.  The coast of Spain could be seen stretching along to the southward.  Another hour and it was perfectly dark and, even with the night glasses, the frigate could no longer be made out.

“Starboard your helm,” the captain said, to the man at the wheel.  “Lay her head due east.”

“I fancy the wind is dying away, sir,” Mr. Probert said.

“So long as it don’t come a stark calm, I don’t care,” the captain replied.  “That would be the worst thing that could happen, for we should have the frigate’s boats after us; but a light breeze would suit us, admirably.”

Two hours later, the wind had almost died out.

“We will take all the sails off her, Mr. Probert.  If the frigate keeps on the course she was steering when we last saw her, she will go two miles to the south of us; and the lugger will go more than that to the north.  If they hold on all night, they will be hull down before morning; and we shall be to windward of them and, with the wind light, the frigate would never catch us; and we know the lugger wouldn’t, with her reduced sails.”

In a few minutes all the sails were lowered, and the brig lay motionless.  For the next two hours the closest watch was kept, but nothing was seen of the pursuing vessels.

“I fancy the frigate must have altered her course more to the south,” the captain said, “thinking that, as the lugger was up north, we should be likely to haul our wind in that direction.  We will wait another hour, and then get up sail again, and lay her head for Cape Ortegal.”

When the morning broke, the brig was steering west.  No sign of the lugger was visible but, from the tops, the upper sails of the frigate could be seen, close under the land, away to the southeast.

“Just as I thought,” the captain said, rubbing his hands in high glee.  “She hauled her wind, as soon as it was dark, and stood in for the coast, thinking we should do the same.

“We are well out of that scrape.”

Two days later the brig dropped her anchor in the Tagus, where three English ships of war were lying.  A part of the cargo had to be discharged, here; and the captain at once went ashore, to get a spar to replace the topmast carried away in the gale.

“We may fall in with another Frenchman, before we are through the Straits,” he said, “and I am not going to put to sea again like a lame duck.”

Bob went ashore with the captain, and was greatly amused at the scenes in the streets of Lisbon.

“You had better keep with me, as I shall be going on board, in an hour.  Tomorrow you can come ashore and see the sights, and spend the day.  I would let Joe come with you, but he will be too busy to be spared, so you will have to shift for yourself.”

Before landing in the morning, the captain advised him not to go outside the town.

“You don’t know the lingo, lad, and might get into trouble.  You see, there are always sailors going ashore from our ships of war, and they get drunk and have sprees; and I don’t fancy they are favourites with the lower class, here, although the shopkeepers, of course, are glad enough to have their money ­but I don’t think it would be safe for a lad like you, who can’t speak a word of the language, to wander about outside the regular streets.  There will be plenty for you to see, without going further.”

As Bob was a good deal impressed with the narrow escape he had had from capture, he was by no means inclined to run any risk of getting into a scrape, and perhaps missing his passage out.  He therefore strictly obeyed the captain’s instructions; and when ­just as he was going down to the landing stage, where the boat was to come ashore for him ­he came upon a party of half drunken sailors, engaged in a vigorous fight with a number of Portuguese civil guards, he turned down a side street to avoid getting mixed up in the fray ­repressing his strong impulse to join in by the side of his countrymen.

On his mentioning this to the captain, when he reached the brig, the latter said: 

“It is lucky that you kept clear of the row.  It is all nonsense, talking about countrymen.  It wasn’t an affair of nationality, at all.  Nobody would think of interfering, if he saw a party of drunken sailors in an English port fighting with the constables.  If he did interfere, it ought to be on the side of the law.  Why, then, should anyone take the part of drunken sailors, in a foreign port, against the guardians of the peace?  To do so is an act of the grossest folly.

“In the first place, the chances are in favour of getting your head laid open with a sword cut.  These fellows know they don’t stand a chance against Englishmen’s fists, and they very soon whip out their swords.  In the second place, you would have to pass the night in a crowded lockup, where you would be half smothered before morning.  And lastly, if you were lucky enough not to get a week’s confinement in jail, you would have a smart fine to pay.

“There is plenty of fighting to be done, in days like these; but people should see that they fight on the right side, and not be taking the part of every drunken scamp who gets into trouble, simply because he happens to be an Englishman.

“You showed plenty of pluck, lad, when the balls were flying about the other day; and when I see your uncle, I am sure he will be pleased when I tell him how well you behaved, under fire; but I am equally certain he would not have been, by any means, gratified at hearing that I had had to leave you behind at Lisbon, either with a broken head or in prison, through getting into a street row, in which you had no possible concern, between drunken sailors and the Portuguese civil guards.”

Bob saw that the captain was perfectly right, and said so, frankly.

“I see I should have been a fool, indeed, if I had got into the row, captain; and I shall remember what you say, in future.  Still, you know, I didn’t get into it.”

“No, I give you credit for that, lad; but you acknowledge your strong impulse to do so.  Now, in future you had better have an impulse just the other way and, when you find yourself in the midst of a row in which you have no personal concern, let your first thought be how to get out of it, as quickly as you can.  I got into more than one scrape, myself, when I was a young fellow, from the conduct of messmates who had got too much liquor in them; but it did them no good, and did me harm.

“So, take my advice - fight your own battles, but never interfere to fight other people’s, unless you are absolutely convinced that they are in the right.  If you are, stick by them as long as you have a leg to stand upon.”