ituation. Thanks to Mr. Jope and
Mr. Adams, who had taken a genuine fancy to him, he found life on
board the _Vesuvius_ cheerful if not comfortable. The fare was
Spartan, indeed, but, for a short holiday, tolerable. The prospect
of seeing some real fighting excited him pleasurably, for he was no
coward. Here, before his eyes, lay the coast of France; the actual
forts and guns with which his imagination had so often played.
What a tale he would have to tell on his return! And, by the way,
how his poor Trojans must be suffering in his absence, without news
of him! He pictured that return. . . . Yes, indeed, it was at the
expense of Troy that Fortune had conceived this practical joke.
He could even smile, as yet, at the thought of the Baskets' dismay as
they searched the house for him. He wondered if Mr. Basket had
forwarded his letter to Miss Marty, at the same time announcing his
disappearance. Well, well, he would dry her tears. . . .

But upon this came the recollection of those cruel words:

"_What a dam funny-looking little man!_"

He might--he assuredly would--keep them a secret in his own breast.
But they echoed there.

His vanity was robust. Again and again it asserted its health in his
day-dreams, expelling, or all but expelling, that poisonous memory.
Only at night, in his hammock, it awoke again--sinister, premonitory.
But as yet the man continued cheerfully incredulous. Fate was
playing, less on him than through him, a rare practical joke--no
more.

On the eighth of June, at about nine o'clock in the evening, it
occurred to Admiral Lord Keith that the wind and weather afforded an
excellent opportunity of testing the _Vesuvius's_ far-famed catamaran
against the shipping moored off Boulogne pier. He signalled
accordingly; and at nine-thirty, under the eyes of the squadron, a
boat from the bomb-ship started to tow the infernal machine towards
the harbour. By leave of Bill Adams, commanding, our Major made one
of the crew of twelve.

In less than a quarter of an hour their approach was signalled by the
enemy's vedettes to the forts ashore, which promptly opened fire.
Mr. Adams, having towed the catamaran within its proper range, with
his own hand pulled the plug releasing the clockwork, and gave the
order to cast off, leaving wind and tide to do the rest; which they
doubtless would have done had not a gun from one of the French
batteries plumped a shot accurately into the catamaran.

The cat