e prevents
desertion, though it needs strategy to assist. They ride at anchor far
out, beyond swimming distance from the beach, and will not allow
shore-boats to approach them. The tar who attempts to take French leave
will have a severe swim for it; perchance get a shot sent after, that
may send him to the bottom of the sea. With this menace constantly
before their minds, even California's gold does not tempt many to run
the dangerous gauntlet.

Among the craft keeping up this iron discipline is one that bears the
British flag--a man-of-war, conspicuous by her handsome hull and clean
tapering spars. Her sails are stowed snug, lashed neatly along the
yards; in her rigging not a rope out of place. Down upon her decks,
white as holystone can make them, the same regularity is observable;
every rope coiled, every brace trimly turned upon its belaying-pin. It
could not be otherwise with the frigate _Crusader_, commanded by Captain
Bracebridge--a sailor of the old school, who takes a pride in his ship.
He has managed to retain his crew--every man-Jack of them. There is not
a name on the frigate's books but has its representative in a live
sailor, who can either be seen upon her decks, or at any moment summoned
thither by the whistle of the boatswain. Even if left to themselves,
but few of the "crusaders" would care to desert. Gold itself cannot
lure them to leave a ship where things are so agreeable; for Captain
Bracebridge does all in his power to make matters pleasant, for men as
well as officers. He takes care that the former get good grub, and
plenty of it--including full rations of grog. He permits them to have
amusements among themselves; while the officers treat them to
_tableaux-vivants_, charades, and private theatricals. To crown all, a
grand ball has been given aboard the ship, in anticipation of her
departure from the port--an event near at hand--at which more than one
of her officers have made acquaintances they would wish to meet again--
two of them desiring this with longings of a special kind. These last
have fallen in love with a brace of shore damsels, with whom they had
danced, and done a little flirting at the ball.

It is the third day after, and these love-struck gentlemen are standing
upon the poop-deck, conversing about it. They are apart from their
comrades--purposely, since their speech is confidential. Both are young
men; the elder, by name Crozier, being a year or two over twenty; w