greater proportion. The groans and cries of the
poor fellows, as they lay racked with pain in the confined space which
could alone be afforded on board the small vessels and boats, sounded
sadly in the calm midnight air. The surgeons all the time were stepping
from boat to boat, or visiting the vessels in succession, and doing
their utmost to alleviate the sufferings of the wounded. Happy were
those who could sleep, but many, among whom were Jack and Terence, could
not close an eye. How anxiously, as they leant back and looked up to
the dark sky studded with its myriads of stars reflected in the calm
glassy waters, did they wish for the morrow, though that morrow might
bring death and wounds to themselves or their companions. Happy,
indeed, is it for all of us that we do not know what the morrow may
bring forth.

CHAPTER TWENTY TWO.

PRISONERS.

Battles and wounds, death and destruction, and all the other
concomitants of warfare, may be interesting matters to read about, but
the reality is very far from pleasant or desirable. Even Jack Rogers
and Paddy Adair could not help coming to this conclusion during the
night they spent off Lagos, surrounded by their wounded, and dead, and
dying companions. They were also not a little anxious about Murray, of
whom they could obtain no information. The stars kept shining forth
from the dark sky, the surface of the river was smooth as glass, on
either side around them was the squadron of steamers and boats, while in
the distance could be observed the lights of the black city, from which
every now and then a flash might be seen as a negro took it into his
head to fire off his musket, or perhaps, while handling it, let it
explode unintentionally. At length daylight returned. Directly
everybody was on the alert, but as yet no signal was made to recommence
the attack. Whatever heroes of romance might have done, modern warriors
require rest and refreshment, so the men set to work to cook and eat
their breakfasts. While this was going on, a boat was seen approaching
the squadron. She was the gig Murray commanded. He himself was on
board. His shipmates warmly welcomed him.

"Where have you been? What have you been about? We feared you were
lost," exclaimed several voices.

"It is a somewhat long story," he answered. "After the retreat was
ordered yesterday I saw some negroes pulling off in a canoe to the
northward of the island, and not thinking of consequences,