as collared by five or six men and hurled into the
bottom of the boat, where he lay, half-stunned, while they rowed towards
the shore. Before reaching it, however, he was still doomed to rough
handling, for one of the shots from the large guns, which were fired
almost at random from the flotilla, accidentally struck the boat and
sent it to the bottom.

Lancey was a good swimmer. The cold water restored him to full vigour,
and he struck out boldly for the shore. He soon left the boat's crew
behind, with the exception of one man who kept close to his side all the
way. As they neared the shore, however, this man suddenly cried out
like one who is drowning. A second time he cried, and the gurgling of
his voice told its own tale. The stout Englishman could not bear to
leave a human being to perish, whether friend or foe. He swam towards
the drowning man and supported him till their feet touched bottom.

Then, perceiving that he was able to stagger along unassisted, Lancey
pushed hurriedly from his side in the hope of escaping from any of the
crew who might reach land, for they were evidently the reverse of
friendly.

He landed among a mass of bulrushes. Staggering through them, and
nearly sinking at every step, he gradually gained firmer footing.

"Ah, Jacob," he muttered to himself, pausing for a few minutes' rest,
"little did you think you'd git into such an 'orrible mess as this w'en
you left 'ome. Sarves you right for quittin' your native land."

With this comforting reflection he pushed on again, and soon found
himself on a road which led towards a town, or village, whose lights
were distinctly visible.

What should he do? The village was on the Bulgarian side, and the
natives, if not enemies, would of course become so on learning from any
of the saved men of the monitor who he was. To swim across the Danube
he felt was, after his recent exertions, impossible. To remain where he
was would be to court death among the frogs.

Lancey was a prompt man. Right or wrong, his conclusions were soon come
to and acted on. He decided to go straight to the village and throw
himself on the hospitality of the people. In half an hour he found
himself once more a prisoner! Worse than that; the interpreter, who was
among the men saved from the wreck, chanced to discover him and
denounced him as a spy. The mood in which the Turks then were was not
favourable to him. He was promptly locked up, and about daybreak ne