ace back as the man sunk. When he
came up he seized him again, and again shouted:

"Keep quite quiet, else I'll leave go."

This time the soldier obeyed him and, turning him on his back, and
keeping his face above water, Charlie looked around at the vessel he
had left.

The Indiaman was still in confusion. The squall had been sudden and
strong. The sheets had been let go, the canvas was flapping in the
wind, and the hands were aloft reducing sail. She was already some
distance away from him. The sky was bright and clear, and Charlie, who
was surprised at seeing no attempt to lower a boat, saw a signal run
up to the masthead.

Looking the other way, he saw at once why no boat had been lowered.
The Dover Castle was but a quarter of a mile astern. Carrying less
sail than her consort, she had been better prepared for the squall,
and was running down upon him at a great rate.

A moment later a boat was swung out on davits, and several men climbed
into it. The vessel kept on her course, until scarcely more than her
own length away. Then she suddenly rounded up into the wind, and the
boat was let fall, and rowed rapidly towards him.

All this time, Charlie had made no effort beyond what was necessary to
keep his own head, and his companion's face, above the water. He now
lifted the soldier's head up, and shouted to him that aid was at hand.
In another minute they were dragged into the boat. This was soon
alongside the ship, and three minutes later the Dover Castle was
pursuing her course, in the track of the Lizzie Anderson, having
signalled that the pair had been rescued.

Charlie found that the soldier was an Irish lad, of some nineteen
years old. His name, he said, was Tim Kelly, and as soon as he had
recovered himself sufficiently to speak, he was profuse in his
professions of gratitude to his preserver. Tim, like the majority of
the recruits in the Company's service, had been enlisted while in a
state of drunkenness; had been hurried on board a guard ship, where,
when he recovered, he found a number of other unfortunates like
himself. He had not been permitted to communicate with his friends on
shore, but had been kept in close confinement, until he had been put
in uniform and conveyed on board the Lizzie Anderson, half an hour
before she sailed.

The Company's service was not a popular one. There was no fighting in
India, and neither honor, glory, nor promotion to be won. The climate
was unsuited to Europeans,