On the 21st of June, 1779, had begun the fourteenth and last siege of Gibraltar. On the 12th of September the gates had been closed, and from that on never, in all the annals of war by land and sea, had there been such a struggle for the possession of a single spot of ground as for that mighty Rock. General Sir George Eliot, with a few more than five thousand men, had resisted for five months the assaults of an army three times as numerous, and a strong fleet, which proposed, by fighting and starving the British garrison, to reduce it. Already there had been three months of scarcity before September, and five months of famine since; but the spirit of the garrison was still unbroken, and when, on that brilliant morning, Rodney's fleet was discerned rounding Cabrita Point, the gaunt crowds of soldiers, officers, ladies, servants, Jews, and Genoese poured out upon the face of the Rock, wept and laughed and prayed and went wild with joy, as sufferers do when relief is in sight. For seven days they had alternated the agonies of despair with the transports of hope. They had heard that Admiral Rodney, with a convoy, was coming to their relief; but a little English brig which had made its way in brought news of Admiral de Langara's squadron, and the besieged people knew nothing of the numbers of the ships or the result of the battle that must follow. As day succeeded day, with no news of the fleet, they began to fear that it had been defeated—and that meant submission or starvation, and they had starved since September. Every hour of the night there were half-despairing creatures watching and waiting on Europa Point for the longed-for succor; and every morning had brought them nearer to despair, until, at last—at last—the fleet was coming, their white sails shining in the morning light, and bringing with them life itself to the brave men and dauntless women on the Rock.

Never, in all his life, did Archy Baskerville forget that day when he first set foot on Gibraltar. The Royal George, her masts and spars braced and refitted, and her shot-holes plugged, could still leg it faster than most of the ships in the fleet, and led the second division. Her decks had been cleaned up and her injuries repaired as far as possible, and although she showed marks of her warfare with the Spaniards and the storm, yet was she ready at that moment to go into action if necessary. Next her came the Phoenix, larger than the Royal George, and clumsier, but a noble trophy; and beyond them were other great ships of the line, smart frigates, captured Spanish ships, and a fine convoy loaded with provisions for the famishing garrison.

As they neared Europa Point they heard the shouts of joy from the people who swarmed to meet them. From the old convent on the hill, which was the Governor's residence, General Eliot, the commandant, was issuing with his staff. A band was playing "God Save the King," which was taken up by the ships in the fleet. Admiral Digby was on the bridge, waving his hat at General Eliot, who, with his hat in his hand, bent his gray, uncovered head as if returning thanks, while he walked towards the mole, where a shouting crowd of soldiers, civilians, women, and children were gathering.

Nearly every one of the wounded officers was on deck, and so was Langton, who had not been wounded at all, but who was weak and ill beyond any of them. He had not fully recovered from his injuries in the shipwreck, before the battle off Cape St. Vincent, and after doing his duty like a hero he had completely collapsed. Nevertheless, with Archy's aid, he had crawled up on deck, and both of them watched, with shining eyes, the stirring and inspiring scene as the ships came to anchor. The Royal George stood quite close in, and almost before the anchor kissed the ground the Admiral's barge put off and joined the crowd of boats containing officers that were making for the landings. They saw the people crowding around the officers, shaking hands, and even embracing them, while General Eliot stood silent and apparently overcome with emotion, as admirals, captains, and lieutenants grasped his hand and wrung it. Pretty soon a boat with provisions put off from the Royal George, for the necessities of the people were so great that they had to be supplied before the cargoes of the storeships could be broken. Archy, who always had to be in the thick of everything, basely deserted Langton as soon as the boats began putting off, and, going up to Captain Fulke, asked permission to go ashore. The young prisoner's conduct on board ship had made him to be highly popular, and Captain Fulke at once agreed.

"Good-bye!" cried Archy to Langton. "Somebody will take care of you, I dare say," and skipped over the side.

As the boat drew alongside the Rock the scene was thrilling. Before them towered the mighty Rock, with its grim batteries ready for defence, while just across the neck of land connecting it with the mainland, no more than a mile from the barrier gate, the Spaniards had erected two mighty lines of fortifications, from the Punta Mala on the bay of Gibraltar, across to the Sierra de Carbonera, or Queen of Spain's Chair. Two great forts were at either end of this line of fortifications—San Felipe, on the bay of Gibraltar, and Santa Barbara, on the eastern beach. San Felipe was faced by a frowning fort, almost as strong as the Spanish fort at the end of the Old Mole, while three strong batteries and the powerful defences of the Land Port defied the Spanish line of attack. In the golden afternoon light these grim and warlike features were singularly clear, the Spanish colors were in plain view, while the distant roll of the Spanish drums and the silver notes of the bugles were perfectly audible.

On the mole the people seemed beside themselves with excitement—the rapture of relief, the anxiety for news from home, the story of sufferings half told, the pain, the joy, the pale mothers with the paler children, the officers and soldiers with uniforms hanging loose upon their famished bodies, the Jews and Genoese chattering and gesticulating wildly, and a few Moors and Arabs standing silent and stoical amid the tumult. One of these men—an Arab—Archy noticed the instant he stepped ashore, close to a group made up of General Sir George Eliot, Admiral Rodney, Admiral Digby, and some other officers of high rank. This man was of a bronze color, tall and well formed, with the full black eyes of the Arab tribesmen, and wore his white burnouse and his snowy turban with an imperial air. General Eliot, a soldierly but austere-looking man, spoke to him.

"Come here, Musa."

Musa advanced with perfect dignity, and bowed to the officers; each returned the salutation by lifting his hat.

"This man, gentlemen, has been our only mode of communicating with the outside world for five months past. Through him we have communicated with our consuls on the African side, and they have returned us, by him, the only news we have had of anything outside this Rock in all that time. The Spaniards have found out that Musa is clever enough to elude their smartest cruisers, and have repeatedly offered him money to betray us, but he has steadily refused."

"This shall be known in England, Musa," said Sir George Rodney.

Musa slightly inclined his head, and, without the faintest change of countenance, withdrew, and walked off by himself.

General Eliot then turned to a small, slight man, in naval uniform, and said, "I have had as much assistance from Captain Curtis as from any officer in the garrison, and Mrs. Curtis fired the first shot of the defence on the 12th of September, the order for firing being, 'Britons, strike home!'"

Archy glanced around, and saw by Captain Curtis's side a pretty, pale-faced woman, holding a little girl of ten years by the hand, and by her blushes and the child's smiles he knew that the lady was Mrs. Curtis. But the next moment the child said something that went to his heart.

"Mamma," she whispered, "when do the sailors mean to give us something to eat? I am so hungry!"

This was more than Archy could stand, and, making for the boat, he very unceremoniously seized a bag of potatoes and was walking off with it, when an officer, superintending the unloading, called out to him, sternly:

"Hold, there! What are you doing with that bag of potatoes?"

"Taking it to feed a half-starved woman and her little girl."

"Put it down. The provisions must be distributed according to orders."

"Unluckily, this case can't wait," answered Archy, making a dash towards the group where Admiral Digby stood.

"Sir," said he, "I want these potatoes for Mrs. Curtis and her little girl, and—"

"By George! you shall have them," whispered the Admiral. "Run, sir, for your life. There is Mrs. Curtis going up the path towards Europa Point, and as soon as you have delivered them, come back to me and I will reprimand you."

Archy waited for no further orders, and, laughing, started as fast as his legs could carry him after Mrs. Curtis. In a minute or two he reached her, toiling painfully up the steep path, Dolly, white and faint, clinging to her hand.

"Madam," said Archy, taking off his hat, "I believe I have the honor of addressing Mrs. Curtis. Admiral Digby gave me permission to bring this bag of potatoes to your house."

"I have no house any more," replied Mrs. Curtis, with a faint smile. "The officers' families have long since abandoned the houses in the town, on account of the bombardment. My husband has had a rude shelter put up for us under the rocks at Europa Point, and there my child and I live, with a faithful old servant of my husband's. I thank you more than I can express for your kindness in bringing us something to eat—I knew you had a kind heart as soon as I saw your bright face. Tell me who you are."

"I am Midshipman Baskerville, late of the continental ship Bon Homme Richard, a prisoner on parole, and entirely at your service, madam—and this young lady's," added Archy, who dearly loved children, looking at Dolly.

Dolly smiled at him, and when he offered her his hand to help her up the steep incline she gave it him with the sweetest confidence. Archy had never practised carrying bags of potatoes on his back, and was considerably out of breath when they reached the shelter that stood for a house for Mrs. Curtis.

"ARCHY MAKES AWAY WITH A BAG OF POTATOES FOR MRS. CURTIS"

There was an open space between two huge bowlders which had been roofed over, and in it were spread some rugs, two mattresses for sleeping, cushions and blankets, and in a large chest were a few necessaries for living, and clothing. This was the home of an officer's wife and child.

But some one was there before them—a tall, well-made, hard-featured, elderly man, in the uniform of a sergeant of marines, who had promptly kindled a little fire, and immediately set to work briskly peeling the potatoes.

"This is Judkins," said Mrs. Curtis to Archy. "He was formerly my husband's orderly, but was retired on account of wounds; but he has become our orderly, and is cook, butler, nurse-maid, and lady's-maid to Dolly and me. We are in his charge while Captain Curtis is on his ship, the Enterprise."

Judkins had been hungry for eight months; but he did not abate a jot or tittle of his dignity on that account, and stopped peeling the potatoes, and stood bolt-upright at "attention" while Archy courteously saluted him.

While they were still standing there, Archy quite fascinated with the sweetness of Mrs. Curtis and Dolly, Captain Curtis arrived. Mrs. Curtis at once introduced Archy, and told of his action in such a way as to make it seem more than it really was.

"Kindness to my wife and child is a very good recommendation to me, Mr. Baskerville," said Captain Curtis, cordially, "and I would like to know by what scheme you got the potatoes first."

"Nabbed them, sir," replied Archy, with a grin; "and I am now going back to be hauled over the coals by Admiral Digby, who told me to run away with the bag, and then come back and be reprimanded. Good-bye! good-bye!" and he was off.

When he again reached the mole the scene was even more animated. There was a procession of boats passing back and forth from the ships to the mole, and provisions were being unloaded with extraordinary rapidity under the eyes of the officers. All were working hard, and none harder than Prince William, who, with a red face and a dusty jacket, was doing his duty among the other midshipmen just as if his father did not sit upon the greatest throne on earth. Admiral Digby, who was everywhere at once, noticed Billy's energy and industry, and spoke some words of praise to him, at which the young Prince's honest, simple face glowed with pleasure.

Many of the poorer persons hung about, begging for food before it could be taken to their houses. Admiral Digby, his hands behind his back, was walking up and down the mole, watching with pity the efforts of the starving people to carry away what was given them. He was looking at an old woman who had been given a basketful, but was tottering along under it, almost falling under her load, when Archy appeared before him.

"I have come for my reprimand about the potatoes, sir," he said, respectfully.

"That's right, sir," chirped the Admiral; "never neglect reporting yourself when a reprimand is expected, or you may have worse luck. You cribbed a bag of potatoes, didn't you? Very reprehensible—very reprehensible, indeed. You should be severely reprimanded. Stealing potatoes is clearly against the articles of war. Consider yourself reprimanded—severely reprimanded, sir; and if you have a chance of stealing a few more for that old woman yonder, don't hesitate, but do it, and come and be reprimanded again. You might help her and some others of these poor, weak, helpless creatures to carry away what is given them—you have a fine pair of shoulders, and legs like a London chairman—so be off with you—and, stay—eh—I say—dine in the great cabin with me to-night— Gone, with a duck of his head for answer to an admiral's invitation! Presumptuous young dog! But a fine fellow, if ever I saw one."

Nevertheless, Archy was not one to scorn an invitation to a better dinner than he was likely to get in the usual course of events, and at dinner-time he presented himself in the Admiral's cabin. He thought himself especially fortunate in having a chance to talk about his scheme of staying at Gibraltar, and was delighted when Admiral Digby said, "I have mentioned to General Eliot your preference for remaining here, and as the place is plentifully supplied, and will be kept supplied in the future, there is no objection made to it. General Eliot was most considerate, and readily granted my request."

"Thank you, sir," replied Archy, "and to-morrow morning I will call and pay my respects to General Eliot, and express my thanks. May I ask, sir, if you have not told the General that I am Lord Bellingham's grandson, that you will not? I—"

"Too late, sir. I felt obliged to tell General Eliot every particular concerning you. I fear," said the Admiral, looking sharply at Archy, "that you have imbibed some false and demagogic notions about rank. Surely, it is of solid advantage to you to be known as the grandson of a peer."

Admiral Digby, without the slightest cringing towards the great, yet respected rank, as it was everywhere respected in the eighteenth century; and he could not but hope that his kind attentions towards Archy might result in bringing back this strayed lamb to the fold of the British peerage.

"In some ways, sir, it is to my advantage," said Archy, "but in others it is not. I am sure if I had been the grandson of John Smith, or Jones, or Brown, that I should have been exchanged long ago, and I cannot help thinking that my grandfather is using his influence against me at the Admiralty. Commodore Jones warned me to keep quiet about Lord Bellingham."

"Oh—Commodore Jones! Recollect, you engaged to give me some account of him. He is a man of remarkable character and achievements."

Archy plunged into a history which was one long eulogy of Paul Jones. Admiral Digby smiled at his enthusiasm; but he was too good a judge of human nature to disesteem, or even undervalue, enthusiasm. Archy gave him every particular concerning the fight between the Bon Homme Richard and the Serapis, and their perils at the Texel.

"Where I was bagged, sir," he said, regretfully, "by my own carelessness and rashness, after having been repeatedly warned by Commodore Jones; and here I have been a prisoner of war for more than three months in consequence!"

"Very sad—very sad!" condoled the Admiral, all the time thinking that it might turn out the luckiest thing in the world for Archy. "And, may I ask, Mr. Baskerville, to return to Lord Bellingham, how you and he—coincided?"

Archy rubbed his ruddy cheek thoughtfully before answering:

"Better, sir, I believe, than most people coincide with my grandfather. He seems to consider himself a much injured person, although I never could see where his injuries lay. As I do not want the title, and cannot have the estates, I believe my cousin, Mr. Langton, will be his heir. My grandfather was terribly cut up when he heard the false report of Langton's death."

"And is it possible, Mr. Baskerville, that you can regard such splendid prospects as might be yours with indifference?"

"I do not know, sir, whether that word describes my feelings. I regard those splendid prospects as impossible for me. My grandfather, no doubt, desires me to give up my country, but I cannot; nor will I give up my profession. It is the height of my ambition to have a command in the American Navy."

"You speak as if you were quite sure that the revolted colonies will be successful. Now, while the present war is undoubtedly very unpopular in Great Britain and in Parliament—the whole force of such gigantic men as Mr. Burke and Mr. Fox is thrown against it—yet the fight will be continued, and, for my part, I think the issue of the struggle more than doubtful for the colonies."

"Then, sir, every American must, as a point of honor, maintain his nationality when his country's cause seems most in peril. We cannot admit that we are whipped before our adversaries think so."

"True enough, Mr. Baskerville. I see in you the spirit of determination common among your countrymen, which, to my mind, is the one thing that makes it a question whether we can reduce the colonies or not. Oh, that we should be compelled to fight such men! But we must do our duty. I cannot approve of Admiral Keppel's course in declining the command of the fleet for North America because he did not believe in coercing the colonies. I desire to have them back, and, by George!" cried the Admiral, bringing his fist down with a thump that made the glasses ring again, "I am so deuced anxious to have them back that, if they won't come for the asking, I would hammer them with men and ships until they were driven back, begad!"