her followed. The reports
became louder; they were directly over his head. The main-deck guns
were being fired. The ship must be engaged with an enemy, there could
be no doubt about that. The light from a ship's lantern fell on the
spot where he lay. The gunner and his crew were descending to the
magazine. His duty he had been told would be in action to carry up
powder to the crew; he ought to arouse himself. The surgeon and his
assistants now came below to prepare the cockpit for the reception of
the wounded. More lights appeared. The carpenter and his crew were
going their rounds through the wings. Men were descending and
ascending, carrying up shot from the lockers below. All were too busy
to discover Paul. The sea had by this time gone down, and the ship was
less tumbled about than before. Sleep, too, had somewhat restored his
strength, and with it his spirits and courage.

"What am I about, skulking here? I ought to be ashamed of myself; have
all my once brave thoughts and aspirations come to this? I will be up
and do my duty, and not mind Sam Coulson, or the enemy's shot, or
anything else." Such were the thoughts which rapidly passed through his
mind; he sprang to his feet, and, as he hoped, unobserved reached the
main-deck. He fortunately remembered that his friend Reuben Cole was
captain of one of the main-deck guns, and that Reuben had told him that
that was the gun he was to serve. The deck was well lighted up by the
fighting-lanterns, and he had thus no difficulty in finding out his
friend. The men, mostly stripped to their waists, stood grouped round
their guns with the tackles in their hands, the captains holding the
slow matches ready to fire. Paul ran up to Reuben, who was captain of
his gun.

"What am I to do?" he asked; "you said you would tell me."

"So I will, lad; and I am glad to see you, for I was afraid that you had
come to harm," answered Reuben, in a kind tone. "I said as how I was
sure you wasn't one to skulk. Where was you, boy?"

Paul felt conscience-stricken, and he dared not answer; for utter a
falsehood to excuse himself he would not. "Tell me what I am to do, and
I'll try to do it," he said, at length.

"Why, then, do you go down with Tom Buckle to the powder-magazine with
that tub there, and get it filled and come back and sit on it till we
wants it," replied his friend, who possibly might have suspected the
truth.

"Then I am about to take part in a real ba