her colors, and the victory was complete.

The prisoners were brought on deck and disarmed. Harry found that the
boats of the four ships would carry two hundred men closely packed, and
but a hundred and eighty of the two hundred and fifty troops who had
sailed in pursuit remained alive. These, with sufficient provisions and
water to last for three days, were made to take their places in the
boats, and told to row back to the island, which they should be able to
regain in two days at the utmost. The crews of the captured ships were
willing enough to obey the orders of their captors, for the sailors had
in general but little sympathy with the doings of Parliament. Harry had
lost in killed and wounded forty-two men, and the rest he divided
between the four ships, giving about thirty-five men to each. He
himself, with Jacob, William Long, and Mike, remained on board the Lass
of Devon, officers being placed in command of the troops on board the
other ships, which were ordered to sail in company with her. Twenty-four
hours were spent in getting a jury-mast set in place of that which had
been shot away. When this was completed the four ships hoisted their
canvas and sailed together for Holland.

They met with no adventure until near the mouth of the English Channel,
when one morning a fleet of eight ships was perceived. The captain of
the Lass of Devon at once pronounced them to be ships of war, and their
rate of sailing speedily convinced Harry that there was no chance of
escape. Against such odds resistance was useless, and the other ships
were signaled to lower their topsails in answer to the gun which the
leading ship of the squadron fired. Anticipating a return to captivity,
if not instant death, all on board watched the approaching men-of-war.
Presently these, when close at hand, brought up into the wind, and a
boat was lowered. It rowed rapidly to the Lass of Devon, which lay
somewhat the nearest to them. Harry stood on the quarter-deck ready to
surrender his sword. The boat came alongside, an officer leaped on deck
and advanced toward him.

Harry could scarce believe his eyes; this gallant, in the gay dress of a
cavalier officer, could be no follower of Cromwell. The officer paused
and gazed in astonishment at Harry. The recognition was mutual, and the
words "Furness" and "Elphinstone" broke from their lips.

"Why, Elphinstone, what squadron is that?"

"Prince Rupert's, to be sure," the officer said.

"What! did