od news was true.

"There is no time to lose, sir," replied I, respectfully; "he is to be
shot to-morrow at nine o'clock."

"He will be on board here to-morrow at nine o'clock, or I am not Captain
Maclean. But, as you say, there is no time to lose. It is now nearly
dark, and the party must be off immediately. I must write a letter on
service to the commanding officer of the depot. Call my clerk."

I ran out and called the clerk. In a few minutes the letter was
written, and a party of marines, with the second lieutenant, despatched
with me on shore. I ordered post-chaises for the whole party, and
before eleven we were at Maidstone. The lieutenant and I sat up all
night, and, at daylight, we summoned the marines and went to the
barracks, where we found the awful note of preparation going forward,
and the commanding officer up and attending to the arrangements. I
introduced the lieutenant, who presented the letter on service.

"Good heavens, how fortunate! You can establish his identity, I
presume."

"Every man here can swear to him."

"'Tis sufficient, Mr Faithful. I wish you and your friend joy of this
reprieve. The rules of the service must be obeyed, and you will sign a
receipt for the prisoner."

This was done by the lieutenant, and the provost marshal was ordered to
deliver up the prisoner. I hastened with the marines into the cell; the
door was unlocked. Tom, who was reading his Bible, started up, and
perceiving the red jackets, thought that he was to be led out to
execution.

"My lads," exclaimed he, "I am ready; the sooner this is over the
better."

"No, Tom," said I, advancing; "I trust for better fortune. You are
claimed as a deserter from the _Immortalite_."

Tom stared, lifted the hair from his forehead, and threw himself into my
arms; but we had no time for a display of feelings. We hurried Tom away
from the barracks; again I put the whole party into chaises, and we soon
arrived at Chatham, where we embarked on board of the frigate. Tom was
given into the charge of the master-at-arms as a deserter, and a letter
was written by Captain Maclean, demanding a court-martial on him.

"What will be the result?" inquired I of the first lieutenant.

"The captain says, little or nothing, as he was pressed as an
apprentice, which is contrary to Act of Parliament."

I went down to cheer Tom with this intelligence, and taking my leave,
set off for London with a light heart. Still I thought