so as of one below her,
and already dead. But that I was young and clung hard to life, I would
as soon have dropped over the side of the _Arrow_ as anywhere else, and
so ended the bad business of my little history.

In a day or two, however, as the wind freshened and the great Atlantic
waves pitched the _Arrow_ like a plaything from one to the other, my
spirits began to rise once more, and the cloud on my mind gave way
before the cheery influence of a seaman's life.

One of the first things I discovered was that I knew far less about
seamanship than I gave myself credit for. Sailing the _Arrow_ was a
very different business from sailing his honour's lumbering tubs across
Lough Swilly, and I had to own that I had a great deal to learn and very
little to teach before I could call myself a complete sailor. Still, I
was handy, and not afraid to lend a hand at anything, from holding the
helm to cooking the mate's dinner. And so, before many days were over,
I had taken my place without much ado as one of the crew.

For a ship of that size, engaged in such a trade, a crew of thirty men
was small enough. Most of them were foreigners, a few, like myself,
Irish, and the rest English. The one thing that kept them all from
quarrelling was the hope of plunder; and it was easy to guess that, in
the matter of the stolen guns, although the credit of that achievement
belonged to Captain Cochin alone, the men would not have agreed on this
peaceable journey to France if they had not been promised a share in the
fruits of the cargo when sold.

Captain Cochin found out that it is as hard to avoid the enemy's ships
when you do not want them as it is to fall in with them when you do.

We had been out nearly a week, beating about against fitful winds down
the west coast of Ireland, when one evening just before nightfall we
sighted land on our weather-bow, and between us and it a sail bearing
down our way.

As far as we could make out the stranger was a cruiser, in all
probability one of the government vessels at that time stationed off
Bantry Bay, on the look-out for some of the foreign smugglers and
privateers that made it their hunting-ground. The light fell too
suddenly to enable us to see more, but Captain Cochin flew the English
colours at his mast-head, and held on his course until night hid us
completely.

Then we put out into the wind and ran for the open sea, and waited for
the morning.

The short midsummer night left