CHAPTER II.

It was three bells in the first watch when the coxswain of the cutter--whose name was Lobb--went on deck. Some supper and a short sleep in his hammock had wonderfully refreshed him. The gale had entirely blown itself out, and the sky was clear and strewn with brilliant stars, amongst which the Southern Cross and the Centauri glittered like gorgeous jewels set in lapis lazuli of an indigo tint. The breeze still held from the westward, and was strong enough to make the frigate heel over till her shining copper, dripping with salt spray, was visible on the weather side.

Lobb went to the lee entry-port and gazed out over the phosphorescent sea. His heart was heavy as he thought of poor Jack Villiers's sad fate, and mechanically he took off his cap and sought for the pipe that lay snugly therein.

"A bit of baccy is the thing to soothe a chap what's got a fit of the blues," he muttered to himself, as he charged his pipe with tobacco. "I'm jiggered if it wasn't the blackest day in my life when I failed to pick up that youngster--the brightest young fellow in the ship he was, and that there ain't no denying."

His meditations were interrupted by the middy of the first watch, a bright, fair-haired boy, who, eagerly running up to him, exclaimed: "Oh, Lobb, I wanted to see you so much about----" And he hesitated.

"Ah, it's Mr. Thring," said the coxswain, pausing in the act of lighting his pipe. "I'm main sorry for you, sir, I can assure you, for I know right well what chums you and Mr. Villiers were, and it must strike to your very heart, as one may say."

[Illustration: (Thring and the coxswain)]

Thring's eyes filled with tears, and he felt thankful that it was too dark for the seaman to observe his emotion. He was quite a youngster, having joined the "Forte" straight from the "Britannia" training-ship only a year before our story opens.

"Tell me all that happened, Lobb," he said at length, in a strained voice. "The captain only gave me a few particulars."

The seaman lit his pipe, and between the puffs told what little there was to tell. It was little indeed, but Thring listened to the recital with breathless interest, soothed by the thought that this rough but soft-hearted sailor was fully in sympathy with him.

"The sea looks so beautiful now," he said, when Lobb had finished his short story. "No one would believe that it could have----I say, Lobb"--gripping the seaman's arm--"is it possible that my chum could have escaped in any way?"

"Nobody could have lived long in that sea," answered the coxswain sadly; "but don't you take on too much, sir, about this unfortunit business. What I says to the crew of the cutter I says to you, and mind you, lay it to heart like a brave youngster: 'We've our duty to do, mates,' says I, 'and if the Lord calls him we mustn't complain, He being our Commander-in-Chief, so to speak.'"

There was a long silence.

"I wish we could come across some slavers," said the middy at length; "I feel as if active service is the only thing that would drive poor Jack's dreadful fate from my mind."

"We ain't had much luck in that way, sir, have we? But I reckon the wheel of fortin will turn by-and-by, and we'll get a haul of prize-money. To-morrow it's like enough we'll be in the latitude of Cape Joo-joo, and the chances are we'll fall foul of some of these swabs what earns their living by trading in human flesh."

"If we do, I only hope the fellows will fight," cried Thring, with flashing eyes.

"I hope so too," said the coxswain, as he knocked the ashes out of his pipe. "I'm always ready for a scrimmage with them Arab gentry, for they're the blackest-hearted scoundrels that walk this earth, there's no mistake about that."

"Four bells, sir!" reported the marine sentry, marching up and saluting the middy of the watch.

"Make it so," answered young Thring briefly. "Good night, Lobb; I must go and examine the bow-lights, and take the corporal of the watch round the decks."

"Right you are, sir. Goodnight, and don't you let your young heart be frettin' too much, for, if you'll excuse me taking the liberty of speech, I can't abear to see that bright face of yourn a-clouded over. Don't forget the Commander-in-Chief when you turns into your hammock at eight bells."

And carefully stowing his short clay away in his cap, Lobb went thoughtfully down the main hatchway in search of his own hammock.