y next day, perhaps, this boat
would be plying between the store ship and our frigate, I was at no
loss to account for Frank's attempts to get rid of his oar, and felt
heartily grieved at their failure.

Next morning the bugler called away the First-Cutter's crew, and Frank
entered the boat with his hat slouched over his eyes. Upon his return,
I was all eagerness to learn what had happened, and, as the
communication of his feelings was a grateful relief, he poured his
whole story into my ear.

It seemed that, with his comrades, he mounted the store ship's side,
and hurried forward to the forecastle. Then, turning anxiously toward
the quarter-deck, he spied two midshipmen leaning against the bulwarks,
conversing. One was the officer of his boat--was the other his brother?
No; he was too tall--too large. Thank Heaven! it was not him. And
perhaps his brother had not sailed from home, after all; there might
have been some mistake. But suddenly the strange midshipman laughed
aloud, and that laugh Frank had heard a thousand times before. It was a
free, hearty laugh--a brother's laugh; but it carried a pang to the
heart of poor Frank.

He was now ordered down to the main-deck to assist in removing the
stores. The boat being loaded, he was ordered into her, when, looking
toward the gangway, he perceived the two midshipmen lounging upon each
side of it, so that no one could pass them without brushing their
persons. But again pulling his hat over his eyes, Frank, darting
between them, gained his oar. "How my heart thumped," he said, "when I
actually, felt him so near me; but I wouldn't look at him--no! I'd have
died first!"

To Frank's great relief, the store ship at last moved further up the
bay, and it fortunately happened that he saw no more of his brother
while in Rio; and while there, he never in any way made himself known
to him.

CHAPTER LX.

A MAN-OF-WAR'S-MAN SHOT AT.

There was a seaman belonging to the fore-top--a mess-mate, though not a
top-mate of mine, and no favourite of the Captain's,--who, for certain
venial transgressions, had been prohibited from going ashore on liberty
when the ship's company went. Enraged at the deprivation--for he had
not touched earth in upward of a year--he, some nights after, lowered
himself overboard, with the view of gaining a canoe, attached by a robe
to a Dutch galiot some cables'-lengths distant. In this canoe he
proposed paddling himself ashore. Not being a very ex