er,--and of these
the climax may be found in a fond wife, lying at the feet of her husband
during the last twelve hours of his mortal career. We must draw the
curtain.

And now, reader, the title of this work, which may have puzzled you,
will be explained: for, intelligible as it may be to our profession, it
may be a mystery to those who are not in his Majesty's service. The
broad-headed arrow was a mark assumed at the time of the Edwards (when
it was considered the most powerful weapon of attack), as distinguishing
the property of the King; and this mark has been continued down to the
present day. Every article supplied to his Majesty's service from the
arsenals and dockyards is thickly studded with this mark; and to be
found in possession of any property so marked is a capital offence, as
it designates that property to be the _King's own_.

When Adams left the condemned cell with Willy, he thought upon what had
passed, and as Peters had devoted the boy to his King and country, he
felt an irresistible desire to mark him. The practice of tatooing is
very common in the navy; and you will see a sailor's arm covered with
emblems from the shoulder to the wrist; his own initials, that of his
sweetheart, the crucifix, Neptune, and mermaids being huddled together,
as if mythology and Scripture were one and the same thing. Adams was
not long in deciding, and telling our little hero that his father wished
it--he easily persuaded him to undergo the pain of the operation, which
was performed on the forecastle, by pricking the shape of the figure
required with the points of needles, and rubbing the bleeding parts with
wet gunpowder and ink. By these simple means the form of a broad-headed
arrow, or the King's mark, was, in the course of an hour, indelibly
engraved upon the left shoulder of little Willy, who was then consigned
to his hammock.

CHAPTER FOUR.

The strife was o'er, the vanquish'd had their doom;
The mutineers were crush'd, dispersed, or ta'en,
Or lived to deem the happiest were the slain.
BYRON.

The day broke serenely but brightly, and poured in a stream of light
through the iron grating of the cell where Peters and his wife lay
clasped in each other's arms, not asleep, but torpid, and worn out with
extreme suffering. Peters was the first to break the silence, and
gently moved Ellen, as he called her by her name. She had not for some
time lifted up her head, which was buried in his bosom; an