d crawled out on the yard, holding on tightly by the ropes
which seemed most secure. Finding that it was not so terrible as I had
supposed, I crawled out to the very end of the yard, where I clung on,
in spite of the fearful way in which it moved about.

Thankful I was, however, to hear the boatswain shout, "You may come down
now, lads;" and I made my way into the top.

Lancelot had gone out at the other end of the yard, and when we met on
deck he could not help shaking hands, as if we had arrived successfully
from some desperate enterprise. The seamen laughed as they saw us, and
even the boatswain's grim features wrinkled into a smile.

"You'll do, lads," he said. "You'll make prime topmen in a few weeks,
and thank me for having taught you."

Such was the commencement of our sea life. Things, we agreed, might
have been worse, though we got many a kick and rope's ending, not only
from the boatswain, but from others among the more brutal of the crew.

Martin, when on deck, always came to our rescue, but old as he was, he
was but ill able to contend with so many opposed to him.

"Better grin and bear it, Master Ben," he said; "they'll soon give up
ill-treating you if you take it with good temper, and I should do more
harm than good if I was to shove in my oar except at a favourable time;
but I shall be on the watch, never fear, and I'll take care matters
don't grow too bad."

We followed Martin's advice, and found it answer. The seamen of the
frigate were a lawless and disorderly set, every sentence they uttered
being accompanied by strange oaths, while below, when not asleep, they
spent their time in dicing and gaming.

We found, I should have said, that we were on board the _Charles_
frigate, Captain Blackleach, carrying one hundred and fifty men and
thirty-two guns, one of Prince Rupert's squadron, from which she had
been separated while in chase of a trader the captain had hoped to
capture, but which had escaped.

A bright look-out was now kept for the squadron, and for traders of all
nations.

Our cruising ground was the mouth of the English Channel, where we lay
in wait to pounce down upon any unwary vessel coming up with a rich
cargo.

We were all three below, poor Dick by this time looking as black as a
negro; he had unfortunately let it be known whose son he was, and
consequently, I believe, got a double allowance of ill-treatment.

"All hands make sail!" was shouted, and we with the rest spran