have gone down; so that they owed their lives to us, although
they were not well-pleased at being made prisoners. I now for the first
time was able to enter the cuddy. Coming off the dark deck, I was
struck by the bright light of the cabin, the tables glittering with
plate and glass set for supper, well secured, as may be supposed, by the
fiddles, a number of passengers, ladies and gentlemen, being collected
round them. They greeted me warmly, and numerous questions were put to
me as to the probability of the ship's reaching home in safety. I
assured them that I hoped in the course of a week or so, if the wind was
favourable, that we might find ourselves in the Chops of the Channel.
"Although," I added, "you know the chances of war, but I promise you
that our brig will stick by you and fight to the last for your
protection."

I was not sorry to take my seat at table among them, as I had eaten
nothing for some hours. The gentlemen all begged to take wine with me,
and assured me they believed that, had we not fallen in with them, the
ship would have gone down. When Mr Bramston addressed me, I replied
that I knew his name, and asked if he came from Ceylon.

"Yes," he answered, "I have been there for many years."

I then told him that my commander, Captain Schank, had some time before
written to him on an important matter, and asked whether he had received
the letter.

"Yes," he answered, "just before I left India, and I will speak to you
by-and-by on that matter."

After supper he took me aside, and begged to know further particulars of
the death of Mr Herbert. "Though," he remarked, "that was not the name
by which you knew him."

"Well," he said, after I had told him, "the less his poor daughter knows
of these painful circumstances the better. I am now returning with her,
and, I am thankful to say, her health has already benefited by the
voyage. I trust the meeting with her mother will have a beneficial
effect on her."

"I am sure it will on Mrs Lindars," I observed: "her great wish was,
that should her daughter have been taken away, she might have left some
children on whom she might bestow her long pent-up affection."

"Alas!" said Mr Bramston, "our one only child, a little daughter, was
taken from us at an early age in a very sad way. Mrs Bramston had been
very ill, and had been advised to proceed to Madras for change of air.
An old naval friend offered her and me a passage, and I accordingly
hurri