h all his strength;
"she has taken the bit between her teeth."

"I wouldn't care if I had a bit between mine," replied Jack; "for I feel
devilish hungry again. What do you say, Ned?"

"With all my heart," replied Gascoigne; "but, do you know, Easy, it may
be the last meal we ever make."

"Then I vote it's a good one--but why so, Ned?"

"In half an hour, or thereabouts, we shall be on shore."

"Well, that's where we want to go."

"Yes, but the sea runs high, and the boat may be dashed to pieces on the
rocks."

"Then we shall be asked no questions about her or the men."

"Very true, but a lee shore is no joke; we may be knocked to pieces, as
well as the boat--even swimming may not help us. If we could find a
cove or sandy beach, we might, perhaps, manage to get on shore."

"Well," replied Jack, "I have not been long at sea, and, of course,
cannot know much about these things. I have been blown off shore, but I
never have been blown on. It may be as you say, but I do not see the
great danger--let's run her right up on the beach at once."

"That's what I shall try to do," replied Gascoigne, who had been four
years at sea, and knew very well what he was about.

Jack handed him a huge piece of bread and sausage.

"Thank ye, I cannot eat."

"I can," replied Jack, with his mouth full.

Jack ate while Gascoigne steered; and the rapidity with which the
speronare rushed to the beach was almost frightful. She darted like an
arrow from wave to wave, and appeared as if mocking their attempts as
they curled their summits almost over her narrow stern. They were
within a mile of the beach, when Jack, who had finished his supper, and
was looking at the foam boiling on the coast, exclaimed:

"That's very fine--very beautiful, upon my soul!"

"He cares for nothing," thought Gascoigne; "he appears to have no idea
of danger."

"Now, my dear fellow," said Gascoigne, "in a few minutes we shall be on
the rocks. I must continue at the helm, for the higher she is forced up
the better chance for us; but we may not meet again, so if we do not,
good-bye, and God bless you."

"Gascoigne," said Jack, "you are hurt and I am not; your shoulder is
stiff, and you can hardly move your left arm. Now I can steer for the
rocks as well as you. Do you go to the bow, and there you will have a
better chance. By-the-bye," continued he, picking up his pistols, and
sticking them into his waist, "I won't leave them, they've served us t