ch might lead to the solution of the mystery hanging
over his early history.

What had become of the important document? Why had not Captain
Scarsdale produced it? Yell, at all events, knew his father's real
name, and he must have communicated it to Captain Scarsdale. He longed
to meet his father, that he might give him the information he had
received, and consult with him as to what steps it would be best for
them to pursue.

Formerly he perhaps would have been very indifferent as to the result;
now he could not help feeling that if it could be proved that he was of
gentle blood, it might enable him the better to succeed in realising the
bright visions in which he had of late been indulging. There might be a
thousand obstacles in his path, but he felt that he could clear them all
away by courage and perseverance, as he would a host of enemies with the
strokes of his cutlass.

Such were the feelings with which Ronald Morton prepared for the attempt
to rescue the passengers and crew of the "Osterley" from the hands of
the Frenchmen. Old Doull had warned him of the difficulties to be
encountered. He had described the dangers of the approach to the bay,
the strength of the forts, and the number of the garrison. This of
course only increased the anxiety of Morton and his followers to
commence the work in hand.

While Morton was still forming his plan, old Doull, hat in hand, came
aft.

"Captain Morton," he said, "my son Bob has been telling me how you have
been kind to him, and stood by him ever since he came to sea, and I want
to show you that my old heart, though it's pretty well scorched and
dried up with the hard life I've led, can still feel thankful for
favours done. At first I couldn't make Bob believe that I was his
father, and no wonder, for an unnatural one I had been to him all his
life; but I told him so many things about when he was a baby that he
knows it now, and has taken to call me father, and that warms my heart
and gives it such a pleasure I can't describe. After having had no one
to care for me for better than twenty years, except old Archy
Eagleshay--and I couldn't trust him over-much, 'specially if a cask of
rum was in his way--it is a happiness to be called father--that it is,
sir. I hope as how some day you will feel it. Well, sir, as I was
saying, I was turning in my mind how I might serve you best. Now, I've
been thinking that if we were to sail in with the ships, and attempt to