added Greenly, in a tone of wonder.

"It _is_ out," rejoined the vice-admiral, as one would give emphasis to
the report of a calamity. "Hey!--what? Isn't that a man they're running
up to the end of it, Bunting? Level your glass, and let us know at
once."

"A glass is not necessary to make out that much, Sir Gervaise. It is a
man, beyond a doubt, and there he hangs at the boom-end, as if sentenced
by a general court-martial."

Sir Gervaise now suppressed every expression of surprise, and his
reserve was imitated, quite as a matter of course, by the twenty
officers, who, by this time, had assembled on the poop. The Druid,
keeping away, approached rapidly, and had soon crossed the flag-ship's
wake. Here she came by the wind, and favoured by the momentum with which
she had come down, and the addition of the main-sail, drew heavily but
steadily up on her lee-quarter. Both vessels being close-hauled, it was
not difficult steering; and by watching the helms closely, it would have
been possible, perhaps, notwithstanding the heavy sea, to have brought
the two hulls within ten yards of each other, and no harm should come of
it. This was nearer, however, than it was necessary to approach; the
studding-sail-boom, with the man suspended on the end of it, projecting
twice that distance, beyond the vessel's bows. Still it was nice work;
and while yet some thirty or forty feet from the perpendicular, the man
on the boom-end made a sign for attention, swung a coil of line he hold,
and when he saw hands raised to catch it, he made a cast. A lieutenant
caught the rope, and instantly hauled in the slack. As the object was
now understood, a dozen others laid hold of the line, and, at a common
signal, when those on board the Plantagenet hauled in strongly, the
people of the Druid lowered away. By this simple, but united movement,
the man descended obliquely, leaping out of the bowline in which he had
sat, and casting the whip adrift. Shaking himself to gain his footing,
he raised his cap and bowed to Sir Gervaise, who now saw Wycherly
Wychecombe on his poop.

CHAPTER XXIV.

"Yet weep not thou--the struggle is not o'er,
O victors of Philippi! many a field
Hath yielded palms to us:--one effort more,
By one stern conflict must our fate be sealed."

MRS. HEMANS.

As soon as the people of the Plantagenet, who had so far trespassed on
discipline, when they perceived a man hanging at the end of the
studdi