ad
taken down a hammock, as he said, for a poor wounded man, hung it up,
and turned in himself. The consequence was, that the next morning the
surgeon, who saw him lying in the hammock, had put him down in the
report; but as Gascoigne had got up as well as ever, he laughed, and
scratched his name out of the list of wounded.

Before morning, the ship had been pumped out dry, and all below made as
secure and safe as circumstances would permit; but the gale still
continued its violence, and there was anything but comfort on board.

"I say, Martin, you ought to be thrown overboard," said Gascoigne; "all
this comes from your croaking you're a Mother Carey's chicken."

"I wish I had been any one's chicken," replied Martin; "but the devil a
thing to nestle under have I had since I can well remember."

"What a bore to have no galley fire lighted," said one of the
youngsters, "no tea, and not allowed any grog."

"The gale will last three days," replied Martin, "and by that time we
shall not be far from the admiral; it won't blow home there."

"Well, then, we shall be ordered in directly, and I shall go on shore
to-morrow," replied Easy.

"Yes, if you're ill," replied Gascoigne.

"Never fear, I shall be sick enough: we shall be there at least six
weeks, and then we'll forget all this."

"Yes," replied Martin, "we may forget it, but will the poor fellows
whose limbs are shrivelled forget it? and will poor Miles, the
boatswain, who is blind for ever?"

"Very true, Martin, we are thinking about ourselves, not thankful for
our escape, and not feeling for others," replied Gascoigne.

"Give us your hand, Ned," said Jack Easy. "And, Martin, we ought to
thank you for telling us the truth--we are a selfish set of fellows."

"Still we took our share with the others," replied one of the
midshipmen.

"That's more reason for us to be grateful and to pity them," replied
Jack; "suppose you had lost your arm or your eyesight--we should have
pitied you; so now pity others."

"Well, so I do, now I think of it."

"Think oftener, youngster," observed Martin, going on deck.

What a change from the morning of the day before!--but twenty-four hours
had passed away, and the sea had been smooth, the frigate dashed through
the blue water, proud in all her canvas, graceful as a swan. Since
that, there had been fire, tempest, lightning, disaster, danger, and
death; her masts were tossed about on the snowy waves hundreds of miles
away