evidently were used to their captain's eccentricities, made
no demur, and laid on with their oars. Presently I volunteered to lend
a hand, which was readily accepted. The captain meanwhile lay in a
comfortable slumber in the stern-sheets, uttering occasional greetings
to the world at large, and to me in particular.

"Where does she lie?" said I presently to the man in front of me in
plain English.

He turned round sharply.

"What! you're not a Frenchman then?" said he.

"Heaven forbid! I'm as good an Irishman as you."

"How came you to know Captain Keogh?"

"Sure he found me out and engaged me."

"It's no lie," gurgled Captain Keogh from the bottom of the boat. "I
should have been over but for him. Enter him as sailing-master or cook,
for he's the right sort."

"We're for the _Kestrel_. She lies a mile or two up the coast, with a
cargo for Bantry."

"Lace; I know that. I've been in the business before," said I.

This completed my recognition as a proper shipmate, and no more
questions were asked.

When we reached the _Kestrel_ it was pitch dark, but we could tell by
the grating of the chain as we came up that no time was to be lost in
getting under way.

Not a light was shown, only a whistle from our men, answered by another
from the ship and a voice over the bulwarks,--

"Boat ahoy!"

"_Kestrel_ ahoy!" sang out our men, and in a moment a rope was thrown to
us and we were alongside.

Captain Keogh, happily asleep, was hauled up the gangway, and we
followed.

"A new hand, lieutenant," said my comrade, pointing at me with his thumb
over his shoulder.

"All right. Send him forward to help with the anchor."

At the sound of this voice in the dark I staggered like one struck. It
called to mind days spent under the drifting clouds at the edge of
Fanad, boyish quarrels and battles, winter nights over the peat fire of
our little cabin. Who but Tim had that ring in his voice? Whose voice,
if it was not his, could set my heart beating and swelling in my breast
so that I could scarcely hold it?

Just now, however, I was hurried forward to the business of weighing
anchor, and the lieutenant had gone aft to take charge of the helm.

In a minute or two the _Kestrel_ floated free on the water. The sails
spread out to the wind, the welcome splash of the bows proclaimed that
we had way on us already, and the twinkling lights of Havre in the
distance reminded us that France, land of terrors, was dro