ry hungry boys, as may be supposed, we did not make the best
of way.

We saw several vessels and tried to signal them, but no one took any
notice of us till about midday, when a very large lugger that was
beating across from the Devon shore began to bear down upon us, and
before long, to our great joy, we were able to make out the figures
looking over her bulwarks, one of whom waved something in answer to our
frantic tossing up of our caps and holding a jacket on the blade of an
oar.

Then we set to work and rowed as hard as we could, making very little
progress though, for wind and tide were against us. But the big lugger
came rushing on, and we could see now that there were dark
foreign-looking men on her deck.

It did not matter to us, though, what they were, so long as they would
take us on board, for we were starving and faint, and had long ago come
to the conclusion that we should not be able to row across before dark,
half the day being gone, and the night would come down very early seeing
the time of year.

Bigley and I were in ecstasies, and even Bob began to look a little more
cheerful as the lugger came closer, and then rounded up with her head to
the wind, and lay with her dark red sails flapping.

We rowed up to her side, and a man threw us a rope.

CHAPTER TWENTY.

THE CAPTAIN OF THE LUGGER.

"Eh ben!" he shouted. "Eh ben! Eh ben!" while half a dozen
yellow-faced little fellows with rings in their ears looked down upon us
and grinned.

All at once they made way for a quick dark-looking body, with tiny half
grey corkscrew ringlets hanging round under his fur cap, not only at the
sides but all over his forehead. It was a man evidently, but he looked
like an elderly sharp-eyed wrinkled-faced woman, as he pushed a big lad
aside, and putting his arms on the bulwark, stared down at us.

"Vell, lad, vot you vant?" he said.

"Hungry, sir. Blown off the shore, sir," I cried. "We can't row back.
Can you understand? No parly vous."

"Bah, stupe, thick, headblock, who ask you parlez-vous? I am England
much, and speak him abondomment. How you do thank you, quite vell?"

"No, sir; we're starving, and cold and--and--and--tell him Big, I
can't."

I was done for. I could not keep it back, though I had said to myself
Bob Chowne was a weak coward, and, dropping on the thwart, I let my face
go down in my hands, and tried to keep back my emotion.

"Ah, you bigs boys, you speak me," I heard the