preparations. We were marched, under arrest, with an
escort, in the dark of night, to some little fishing-station among the
dunes, where we found an English lugger, attended by two armed Dutch
boats, waiting to receive us. On this we embarked, bidding farewell to
our captors; but not until the white cliffs of Margate appeared on the
western horizon did our Dutch convoy sheer off and leave us in English
waters in undisturbed enjoyment of English liberty.

Yet even so, did I still harbour a thought of returning home or seeking
the lost, I was destined to disappointment. For from Margate we were
marched direct to Sheerness, and there inspected by Lords of the
Admiralty, who, without ceremony, told us off to fill vacancies in ships
at that moment engaged in active service, promising us, when the present
troubles were over, to recompense our hardships and services in some
better way.

I found myself under orders to sail forthwith to Yarmouth, there to
report myself on board the _Venerable_, the flag-ship of Admiral Duncan
himself.

An Admiralty cutter was just then sailing with despatches for the fleet,
and on it I embarked the same afternoon, and found myself in Yarmouth
Roads next morning.

The admiral's fleet was all in a flutter; for news had only just come
that the Dutch admiral, taking advantage of the temporary withdrawal of
the English ships from the mouth of the Texel (for Admiral Duncan, after
his long cruise there, had been compelled to return to refit his
squadron), was setting sail at last, and determined to venture an
engagement in the open. Our fleet was wild with joy at the news--as
wild as the greyhound who for hours has been straining at his leash with
the hare in view is to feel his collar thrown off.

Signals were flying from every mast-head. The last of the barges and
bumboats were casting loose. The dull thunder of a salute came from the
shore, the yards were manned, sails were unfurling, and the anchor
chains were grinding apeak.

At such a moment it was that the Admiralty cutter hove alongside of the
_Venerable_, and I found myself a few minutes later lending a hand to
haul to the mast-head the blue flag of that most gallant of sea-dogs,
Admiral Duncan.

CHAPTER THIRTY THREE.

THE FAMOUS FIGHT OF OCTOBER THE ELEVENTH.

My readers do not, I hope, expect from me a full, true, and particular
account of the glorious sea-fight of October 11, 1797, off Camperdown;
for if they do, they