ion.

Ronald had been dining with Lord Claymore. Soon after it was dark they
left the frigate in the captain's gig, and pulled with muffled oars
towards the boom. The night was very dark, but the lights on board the
enemy's ships could be clearly made out. They enabled Morton, who had
taken the helm, to steer a right course. The object to be guarded
against was falling in with any of the French boats which would be very
likely rowing guard. A midshipman with a sharp pair of eyes was placed
in the bows to give instant notice of the appearance of any other boat.
It was supposed that, to a certainty, the French would have guard-boats
on the watch near their boom, and the danger to be apprehended was
coming suddenly upon them. However, the gig was a remarkably fast boat,
and Morton hoped that they might easily escape if pursued. Of course
his companion had no doubt about it, or he would not have run the risk,
seeing that so much depended on his superintendence of the undertaking
in hand. Except the rush of the tide as it swept by, a perfect silence
reigned on the waters.

"How calm and solemn is the night?" thought Ronald. "How different will
be to-morrow, when all this space will be full of burning ships, and the
roar of guns and shrieks of dismay and agony will rend the air!"

At length the boom was reached: they now spoke in low whispers. Lord
Claymore pointed out a frigate close to on the other side of it.

"This must be our point of attack," he observed; "we'll break the boom
and then set fire to that frigate. She will cut her cables to escape
her doom, and will carry consternation and confusion among the ships
astern."

"The plan must succeed if all hands do their duty," answered Ronald.

"That is the point," said Lord Claymore somewhat bitterly. "Many of
those to be employed are untried. I wish that I could trust all as I do
you. We'll pull along by the boom a little further, and then make the
best of our way on board."

The gig had not proceeded fifty fathoms when a voice hailed, "Qui va
la?"

"Round with the boat, Morton. Pull up your larboard oars, lads,"
whispered the captain.

Again a Frenchman hailed, and immediately afterwards a bullet came
whizzing close to them. The gig's crew required no urging to bend to
their oars. They must have been seen, for a whole volley followed them.
They were not at first pursued, and it was evident that the French
boats were at the inner side of the bo