s forward, sadly
missed the merry, laughing face of young Murray, for the boy was among
the captured.

Would he ever come again?

CHAPTER XIX.

THE BATTLE OF CAMPERDOWN.

"The flag of Britannia, the flag of the brave,
Triumphant it floateth on land and o'er wave,
And proudly it braveth the battle and blast,
For when tattered with shot it is nailed to the mast."
_Old Song._

It was early on the morning of one of those bright and bracing days in
the beginning of October, when summer seems to return as if to say
good-bye before giving place to winter with its wild winds, its stormy
seas, its driving mist and sleet. The _Tonneraire_ had sailed in towards
Havre on the previous evening. To put it in plain English, she was on
the prowl. Jack had received word from a fisherman that lying at anchor
was a very large store-ship belonging to the French, and he meant to cut
her out or destroy her. But either the fisherman had deceived him or
the vessel had sailed. He found no vessel that he could make a prize of,
nor any foeman worthy of his steel.

Having been up half the night, Jack Mackenzie was tired, and had lain
down to sleep. The ship was under easy sail, and going to the north and
west, right before the wind. Jack was dreaming about his old home of
Grantley Hall. He was walking in the garden on a bright moonlight night
with his sister and Gerty; but the sister had gone on, up the broad
green walk, while the other two stopped beside the old dial-stone, the
figures on which were quite overgrown with green moss and gray
pink-tipped lichens.

"See, see, Gerty," he was saying, as he hurriedly cleared the stone,
"the old time appears again, the dear old days have come once more. The
figures were always there though we could not see them. Our old love,
Gerty, like the figures in the dial, has been obscured, but never, never
lost." A bonnie blush had stolen over her face, and her long eyelashes
swept her cheeks, as she glanced downwards at a bouquet of blue flowers
Jack had given her. She was about to reply, when sharp as a pistol-shot
on the quiet morning air rang out the voice of the outlook aloft,--

"Sail ahead, sir; right away on the starboard bow!"

Gerty with her flowers of blue, Gerty with the bonnie blush on her cheek
and the love-light in her eye, Grantley Hall, green grassy walks,
dial-stone, and all vanished in a hand-clap, and next momen