poor Jack would come."

* * * * *

"Ah, Jack, my bo'," cried Tom, meeting his friend on the quarter-deck
just after divisions, "let me congratulate you. You've come of age this
very morning. Tip us your flipper, Jack. Why, you don't look very gay
over it after all. Feeling old, I daresay--farewell to youth and that
sort of game. Never mind; I'm going to see the surgeon presently. Old
M'Hearty is a splendid fellow, and he'll find an excuse for splicing the
main-brace, you may be sure. Why, Jack, on such an eventful occasion all
hands should rejoice. Ah, here comes the doctor!--Doctor, this is Jack's
birthday, and he's come of age, and--"

[Illustration: _"Tom, I shall not survive this battle."_
Page 26.]

"Sail in sight, sir!"

It was a hail from the mast-head--a bold and sturdy shout that was heard
from bowsprit to binnacle by all hands on deck, and that even penetrated
to the ward-room, causing every officer there to spring from his seat
and hurry on deck.

The captain, Sir Sidney Salt, came slowly forth from his cabin. A daring
sailor was Sir Sidney as ever braved gale or faced a foe. Hardly over
the middle height, with clean shaven face and faultless cue, his age
might have been anything from thirty to forty; but in those mild blue
eyes of his no one, it was said, had ever seen a wrathful look, not even
when engaged hand-to-hand in a combat to the death on the blood-slippery
battle-deck of a French man-o'-war.

"Run aloft, Mr. Mackenzie," he said now, "and see what you make of
her."

In five minutes' time, or even less, young Grant Mackenzie stood once
more on the quarter-deck, and the drum was beating to arms.

No one would break with a loud word the hushed and solemn silence that
fell upon the ship after the men, stripped to the waist, had stood to
their guns; and as barefooted boys passed from group to group,
scattering the sawdust that each one knew might soon be wet with his own
or a comrade's life-blood, many an eye was turned skywards, and many a
lip was seen to move in prayer.

Jack and Tom stood together. The former was pale as death. "Tom," he
whispered, "I had a terrible dream last night. I shall not survive this
battle; I do not wish to. Tell her, Tom, tell Gerty I died sword in
hand, and that, false as she is, my last thoughts were--"

"Stand by the larboard guns!"

Jack and Tom flew to their quarters, and in the terrible fight that
followed