, sprang on to the hammock-rail with a
speaking-trumpet in his hand. The next moment he had raised it to his
lips, and was hailing--

"Ho, the ship ahoy! What ship is that?"

"The _Bangalore_, eighty-two days out from Calcutta, bound to London;
and plundered two days ago by a pirate. I hope you are none the worse
for your boat adventure, Mr Young, in the attack upon that same pirate
last week? I have news and to spare for you, so shall I lower a boat,
or will you? If you can conveniently do so it will perhaps be better,
for I am rather short-handed," I replied.

I saw Young staring at me with all his eyes; evidently he had not as yet
recognised me in the longshore rig with which I had been fitted by the
kindness of one of the cuddy passengers.

He raised the trumpet to his lips, and began--

"Who in the name of ---?" when I saw little Freddy Pierrepoint scramble
up alongside him excitedly and utterly regardless of etiquette, and say
something eagerly. Young lowered the trumpet, stared hard at me, raised
it again, and roared through it--

"Can it be possible that you are Dugdale--the Harry Dugdale that we have
all been mourning as lost?"

"Ay, ay, Mr Young, it is myself, sure enough, alive and well, I am
thankful to say; and more glad than I can express to see the dear old
_Barracouta_ again!"

As I uttered these words the watch on deck gave a ringing cheer, which
thrilled me to the heart, for it told me better than words how sincerely
attached to me the honest fellows were, and how delighted to see me
again; and although the outburst was by no means in accordance with
strict discipline, Young--thoroughly good fellow that he was--never
checked them, but, as their voices died away, simply waved his trumpet,
and shouted, "I will come on board you!" and disappeared behind the
brig's high bulwarks.

A short pause now ensued, during which I suspected that the first luff
was conferring with Captain Stopford, the _Barracouta's_ people gazing
curiously at us meanwhile through the brig's open ports; and then the
sound of the boatswain's pipe came floating to us from the brig across
the tumbling waters, and we heard his gruff voice bellowing--"Gigs
away!"

The call was followed by a slight, muffled scurrying of feet, and the
gig's crew were seen leaping, light as figures of india-rubber, into the
elegantly-moulded craft that hung at the brig's davits, the falls were
eased away, and in a moment the boat, light as