oubt now that it was
a portion of a ship, perhaps of the wrecked _Columbine_, and in the hope
that it was, Phil and his friend dipped their hands in the water and
slowly propelled themselves so as to lie in its path.

"I can see something red on it," said Phil, shading his eyes. "Can you
make anything out, Tony?"

"There's a chap there in red breeches, or I'm an idiot, Phil. Yes, I
can see him plainly. He's tied to the wreckage, and as far as I make
out there isn't a move in him. Tell yer what, old man, that would be a
safer place than these here gratings, and I advise that we swop."

When the floating mass reached them, Phil and Tony sprang on to it,
securing their gratings to it, and casting off the ropes with which they
had fastened themselves. Lashed to a ring-bolt was a little,
red-breeched French linesman, apparently dead.

Phil cut his lashings free, and turning him on to his back, tore his
coat open. "Not dead yet," he cried eagerly. "Lend a hand here, Tony.
We'll pull this fellow round. He is as cold as ice, so we'll take his
shirt off and rub his chest and arms. That ought to restore the
circulation."

Setting to work with a will they tore the clothing from the unconscious
Frenchman, and chafed his body and limbs with such energy that soon
there were obvious signs of returning consciousness, and moreover their
exertions had made both of them thoroughly warm, whereas before they had
been numbed with cold.

Suddenly their ally opened his eyes and stared round wildly.

"Mon Dieu!" he groaned, and seemed to relapse into unconsciousness.
Once more opening his eyes he stared at Phil, and, recognising him as an
English officer, stretched out his hand, while a look of relief and
gladness overspread his face.

"Mon cher, mon cher!" he cried joyfully. "Ah, zis is ze grand plaisir.
Ah!"

"Cheer up, my good fellow," said Phil kindly, patting him on the
shoulder, for, overcome by emotion, the little man had burst into tears.
"Come, tell us how you came to be wrecked like us. You speak our
language, so we shall be able to understand."

"Oui, monsieur, I speak ze language of ze English. Ah, I speak 'im
well!" laughed the Frenchman, with some pride. "Once I live in England
three months and act as a waiter. You wish to know how I came here.
Ah, c'est terrible!" And he covered his face with his hands.

"Now then, pull yerself together, little 'un!" exclaimed Tony
encouragingly. "We're all in the sa