gave him no time either to rest or think. As the distance from land
increased the seas rose higher, and broke so frequently over the boat
that it began to fill. To stop rowing--at least, to the extent of
keeping the bow to the wind--would have risked turning broadside-on, and
being overturned or swamped; there was nothing, therefore, to be done in
the circumstances except to keep the boat's head to the wind and drift.

In the midst of the rushing gale and surging seas he sat there, every
gleam of hope almost extinguished, when there came to his mind a brief
passage from the Bible--"Hope thou in God." Many a time had his mother
tried, in days gone by, to impress that text on his mind, but apparently
without success. Now it arose before him like a beacon-star. At the
same time he thought of the possibility that he might be seen and picked
up by a passing vessel.

He could not but feel, however, that the chances of this latter event
occurring were small indeed, for a passing ship or boat would not only
be going at great speed, but would be very unlikely to see his
cockle-shell in the darkness, or to hear his cry in the roaring gale.
Still he grasped that hope as the drowning man is said to clutch at a
straw.

And the hope was quickly fulfilled, for scarcely had another half-hour
elapsed when he observed a sail--the high-peaked sail peculiar to some
Mediterranean craft--rise, ghost-like, out of the driving foam and
spray. The vessel was making almost straight for him; he knew that it
would pass before there could be time to heave a rope. At the risk of
being run down he rowed the punt in front of it, as if courting
destruction, but at the same time guided his little craft so skilfully
that it passed close to leeward, where the vessel's bulwarks were
dipping into the water. Our middy's aim was so exact that the vessel
only grazed the boat as it flew past. In that moment young Foster
sprang with the agility of a cat, capsized the boat with the impulse,
caught the bulwarks and rigging of the vessel, and in another moment
stood panting on her deck.

"Hallo! Neptune, what do _you_ want here?" cried a gruff voice at
Foster's elbows. At the same time a powerful hand grasped his throat,
and a lantern was thrust in his face.

"Let go, and I will tell you," gasped the youth, restraining his
indignation at such unnecessary violence.

The grasp tightened, however, instead of relaxing.

"Speak out, baby-face," roared