ed amongst other
prisoners, and was subsequently hanged along with them on the mountain
side, as a warning to all dishonest folk.

Tom and Charley, and the captain, escaped scot free,--through a miracle
almost, the brigands being attacked so suddenly that they were unable to
murder their captives, as they invariably do when assailed by the
troops--and so did the sailors along with them; all but Tompkins, who,
as if in punishment for his treachery and cowardice, got shot by a
passing bullet.

"It is a long lane that has no turning," as the proverb runs; and, to
paraphrase it, it must be a long story which has no ending: so there
must be an end to this.

The _Muscadine_ could not be raised again. But Captain Harding got
another ship, of which Tom Aldridge was appointed second officer, and
Charley Onslow third, on probation; and the three, captain and
youngsters, have had a voyage or two already. But they have not
forgotten, nor are they likely to forget, their memorable adventures in
their passage from Beyrout, nor Mohammed's old friend, "The Corsair of
Chios."

STORY THREE, CHAPTER ONE.

DAVID AND JONATHAN; OR, LOST AT SEA.

CAUGHT IN A SQUALL.

"Dave!"

"Hullo!"

"What's that big black thing out there, tumbling about in the sea
astern; is it a whale?"

"A whale, your grandmother!" sang out Davy Armstrong with a laugh, as he
sprang on the taffrail, and holding on to the shrouds with one hand
while he shaded his eyes with the other, peered about anxiously in the
wake of the vessel in search of the object to which his attention had
been drawn by his companion, a dark-haired lad who stood on the deck
near him, and whose thin face and slender figure betrayed the delicate
constitution of one brought up amidst the smoke and din of cities and
busy haunts of men. David, on the contrary, was tall and well-built for
his age, about sixteen, with blue eyes and curly brown hair, and the
ruddy glow of health on his cheek; and being a middy of some two years'
standing on board the _Sea Rover_, and full of fun and "larkishness," to
coin a term, assumed a slightly protective air towards Johnny Liston,
the son of one of the cabin passengers, between whom and himself one of
those stanch friendships common to boyhood had sprung up during the
voyage to Australia. "A whale, your grandmother, Jonathan!" repeated
Davy Armstrong in a bantering tone, with all--as his companion thought
he could detect--the conscious superior