a season. He was a worthy fellow,
nevertheless; not without sense of a practical sort; a curious specimen
of a school now rapidly becoming obsolete.

Soon after this we were once more on our old cruising ground, to the
westward. We had been a week or more knocking about, when it came on to
blow very hard from the south-west. My uncle was not a man to be
frightened by a capful of wind; so, getting our storm-sails, we stood
off shore, and faced the gale like men; for this was just the weather
smugglers would choose to run across Channel, when they think no one
will be on the look-out for them. Towards evening, however, it came on
to blow harder than before; so that at last we were obliged to up-helm
and run for shelter into harbour; but just as we were bearing up, a sea
struck the cutter, carried away our stern-boat, and stove in one of
those on our quarter. In this squall the wind seemed to have worn
itself out; for before we had made the land it suddenly fell, and by
daylight a dead calm came on, followed by a dense fog. When it cleared
somewhat, we found close to us another revenue cutter. Her commander,
Lieutenant Simmons, came on board and told my uncle that he had been
directed to cruise in search of the _Kitty_ lugger, commanded by the
notorious smuggler Bill Myers. "He has been adding wholesale murder to
his other performances," observed the lieutenant. Two weeks ago, a boat
from the _Hawk_ cutter fell in with him at night. He gave her the stem
and cut her in two. Three of her crew climbed up the lugger's bows, but
were instantly knocked on the head and hove overboard. The rest were
drowned, with the exception of one who clung to the wreck and was picked
up by the cutter the next morning. This account made us more eager than
ever to catch Myers. Another cruiser was sent down to assist us in our
search; but, though for several weeks we kept a sharp look-out after
him, he managed to escape us; and neither he nor the _Kitty_ was again
heard of on that coast. I was destined, however, to fall in with him
again in another clime.

We were not sorry to get back to Portsmouth after all this knocking
about. The first person I met on going on shore was Larry Harrigan. He
had seen the cutter coming in, and had hurried down to the Point to meet
me.

"Oh, Master Neil, I've good news for you," he exclaimed, as I jumped out
of the boat and found myself in his arms, for he still looked on me as
the baby he had