t so?" Clinch
eagerly inquired.

"_Diable!_ this man may have been my preserver, after all! You say true,
s'nore; it _was_ just as three guns were fired up at Naples; though I
did not know those guns had anything to do with the intended execution.
Can you tell me if they had?"

"If they had! Why I touched them off with my own hands, they were
signals made by the admiral to spare poor Raoul Yvard, for a few days
at, least. I am rejoiced to hear that all my great efforts to teach the
fleet were not in vain. I don't like this hanging, Mr. Italian."

"S'nore, you show a kind heart, and will one day reap the reward of such
generous feelings. I wish I knew the name of so humane a gentleman, that
I might mention him in my prayers."

"They'll never fancy that Captain Rule said _that_," muttered Ithuel,
grinning.

"As for my name, friend, it's no great matter. They call me Clinch,
which is a good fast word to sail under, too; but it has no handle to
it, other than of a poor devil of a master's-mate; and that, too, at an
age when some men carry broad pennants."

This was said bitterly, and in English; when uttered, the supposed
Italian was wished a "_buona sera_" and the gig proceeded.

"That is _un brave_" said Raoul, with emphasis, as they departed. "If
ever I meet with Monsieur Cleench, he will learn that I do not forget
his good wishes. _Peste!_ if there were a hundred such men in the
British marine, Etooelle, we might love it."

"They're fiery serpents, Captain Rule, and not to be trusted, any on
'em. As for fine words, I might have fancied myself a cousin of the
king's, if I'd only put my name to their shipping articles. This Mr.
Clinch is well enough in the main; being his own worst inimy, in the way
of the grog pitcher."

"Boat, ahoy!" shouted Clinch again, now about a hundred yards distant,
having passed toward the cape. Raoul and Ithuel mechanically ceased
rowing, under the impression that the master's-mate had still something
to communicate.

"Boat, ahoy! Answer at once, or you'll hear from me," repeated Clinch.

"Aye, aye," answered another voice, which, in fact, was Yelverton's;
"Clinch, is that you?"

"Aye, aye, sir--Mr. Yelverton, is it not? I think I know the voice,
sir."

"You are quite right; but make less noise--who was that you hailed a
minute or two since?"

Clinch began to answer; but, as the two gigs were approaching each other
all the time, they were soon so near as to render it unnecess