When Archy came to himself he was lying in a comfortable berth in a cabin on board ship. This much he dimly realized when he waked as if from a long and dreamless sleep. It took him a little while to understand this. At first it seemed quite natural; he thought he was on the old Bon Homme Richard; and when the faint memories of Bellingham Castle and his grandfather and Colonel Baskerville floated into his mind, he thought it was a half-forgotten dream. But by degrees his clouded intelligence grew clear, he remembered everything—the fight in the tavern, the blow that deprived him of consciousness—and, suddenly raising himself in his berth, he began to bawl, "Halloo, there! Halloo!"

A quiet man who had been sitting just outside the cabin door came in at this.

"I wish to be put ashore instantly," said Archy, angrily. "I was carried off by a lot of villains in a press-gang last night, and I demand to see the captain and to be sent ashore immediately—immediately, do you hear?"

The quiet man grinned exasperatingly. "I reckons, sir, 'twill be a good while afore your foot touches dry land. We are now in the Bay of Biscay, latitude 47 degrees, longitude 3 east from Greenwich, as I hearn the sailing-master tell the cap'n just now—and he'd be mighty willin' to oblige you, but I hardly thinks as he'll be able to set you ashore immediate."

"Where am I?" asked Archy, in a dazed way. "What ship is this?"

"This here ship, sir, is the Royal George, flag-ship of Rear-Admiral Digby, Cap'n Fulke, and we are carryin' all the sail that dratted convoy will let us for Gibralty, with the rest o' Sir George Rodney's fleet—good luck to 'em."

It took several minutes for Archy to digest this. He was too staggered by what he had heard to make any further inquiries, but his quiet friend proved communicative enough.

"You're in the sick-bay of the Royal George, sir, and I'm the sick-bay nurse. It seems as how the officers thought as they'd git a good press at the York Assizes. We was layin' off the mouth of the Humber, waitin' for the rest o' the convoy from Ireland, and some o' the men deserted, though we had left Plymouth o' purpose, as soon as we got our complement, to keep the men aboard. But they got away in spite o' our keepin' a sharp lookout, and the officers, as I say, went to look after some others to fill their places. You took a hand in a scrimmage, sir, in a tavern, and the officers wanted to nab you just to git even with you; but that blow on the head was unexpected sharp. Just as you dropped they heard the constables coming. York ain't no seaport town, and the constables don't know enough to let a press-gang alone while it is mindin' its own business; so our men had to cut and run, and they brought you off with 'em, sir, thinkin' you'd peach on 'em if they left you behind. But they meant, as soon as daylight come, to leave you at some village on the road and let you make your way back to York, for they see you was a gentleman, sir. When daylight come, though, you was still layin' like a log, and they was right at the place where the boat was to meet 'em; and when they got down to the mouth o' the Humber there lay the Royal George with the bluepeter flying, so they just had to hustle you on board and turn you over to the surgeon, or else leave you to die on the shore. So they brought you off, and that's six days ago, and this is the first time, sir, you have opened your peepers since, and I must go and tell the surgeon."

Archy lay there alone for a few moments, feeling strangely weak. The reaction of his first awakening was upon him. Presently, a tall, raw-boned, red-headed surgeon entered, and introduced himself in a manner not unkind.

"I am Dr. MacBean—at your service, sir. Glad to see you so much better. You have had a close shave in more ways than one"—Archy put his hand to his head to find that every hair had been shaved off, and his head was as bare as a peeled onion—"but we have pulled you through. I suppose you remember the circumstances of your finding yourself with our men."

"I remember the fight with the press-gang, but I got a blow that stunned me, and don't recollect anything more."

"We saw that you were a gentleman, sir, as soon as you were brought aboard, and we regretted the anxiety your family and friends must feel on your account. No doubt Admiral Digby will take the first opportunity of acquainting them with your situation, and if we meet a ship homeward bound, you will be transferred."

"But England is not my home," explained Archy, in a troubled voice. "I am an American midshipman on parole. I was merely visiting my grandfather, Lord Bellingham, when I went to York—and—my name is Archibald Baskerville, and—" Archy stopped through weakness.

"There, there; you have talked enough," said Dr. MacBean, thinking his patient was off again into vagaries.

But when he went to report to the captain, who happened to be on deck conversing with the Admiral, he had reason to know that Archy was entirely sane in the account he had given of himself. Admiral Digby had heard of the young rebel, grandson of Lord Bellingham, and brought home by Admiral Kempenfelt in the Thunderer. He knew that Lord Bellingham's seat was in Yorkshire, and that, as Lord-lieutenant of the East Riding, he would be present at the York Assizes, and he had no doubt that Archy was just what he represented himself to be.

"I'll go below and see the youngster myself," said the Admiral, and off he marched. As he entered the little cabin Archy opened his eyes languidly, but the very sight of Admiral Digby was interesting and inspiring. A perfect type of the British sailor, his kind though firm glance and his cheery manner were like a breath of the strong salt air.

"Well, Mr. Baskerville, you have had ill-luck," began the Admiral, cordially; "but never fear, sir; you will be sent home by the first chance, and meanwhile we will have the pleasure of your company. I understand you were with my old friend Kempenfelt?"

"Yes, sir," replied Archy, now feeling quite bright and strong, and every inch Archy Baskerville, "the Admiral was very kind to me. He knew my grandfather, and he lent me some money—oh, Jupiter!" exclaimed Archy, suddenly, "how will I ever return that money!"

Admiral Digby roared out laughing at this. "No doubt Lord Bellingham will see to that; but when we lend money to midshipmen in our service we feel that it is casting our bread upon the waters."

"I dare say it is the same with us, sir," replied Archy. "But there is nobody to lend us any on this side of the water. Even Commodore Jones has often wanted money for a dinner, and that, too, in France, where they profess to be our allies."

"Mr. Baskerville," said the Admiral, seating himself on the one stool in the cabin, "I should like, when you are able, to hear the story of that remarkable man. I do not share the prejudices of my countrymen towards him."

"Then you can understand, sir," replied Archy, "the devotion that his own officers feel for him."

"Perfectly. Now tell me if anything has been done towards your exchange, for you are indebted to Jones for a system of exchange."

"Nothing has been done, sir. I was reported to the Admiralty when I was captured, and when I landed at Portsmouth from the Thunderer I went up to London and reported myself. Then I went to my grandfather's, Bellingham Castle, and expected to hear pretty soon from the Admiralty. I know that exchanges have been made, but my name has not been among them."

Something like a smile flitted over Admiral Digby's face at this, and Archy's sharp wits interpreted it.

"I have been thinking, sir," he continued, "that my grandfather, instead of helping forward my exchange so I can return to France, is rather preventing it."

"I understand that you are Lord Bellingham's heir," responded the Admiral.

"No, sir. Heir only to the title I can't use. The entail is cut."

"Your grandfather, no doubt, is anxious for you to live in England with him. In that case you would have a splendid future before you."

"If you had tried living with Lord Bellingham—" began Archy; then stopped. His grandfather had certainly been very kind to him, and the shovel and tongs and boot-jacks and other impedimenta which Lord Bellingham so freely distributed in his rages had never flown in Archy's direction. Admiral Digby laughed outright.

"There are very few persons in England or Scotland who don't know about Lord Bellingham," he said. "But to return to yourself. As soon as you are able to leave your berth you will become the guest of the gunroom mess, and then I shall hope to have the pleasure of your company occasionally in the great cabin. As soon as we meet a homeward-bound vessel you shall be put aboard of her, whether it be before or after we reach Gibraltar. And now good-day to you, and may you soon be on deck again."

After the Admiral left him Archy lay there a little time longer, when it suddenly occurred to him that he was hungry. He bawled for the sick-bay nurse, and when the man came ordered him to bring him some of everything that was served in the galley. The man followed these directions, and Archy, finding his midshipman's appetite returning in full force, devoured everything in sight. Just as the last scrap of pudding disappeared Dr. MacBean entered.

"It is just time, my young friend," blandly remarked the surgeon, "that you may have a light meal of gruel served you, but nothing solid—nothing whatever of that kind."

"Much obliged, sir," answered Archy, "but I have just finished a glorious meal—pea-soup, salt horse, potatoes, and pudding—and I feel about a hundred times better."

"Very well," said the surgeon, dryly, in his broad Scotch accent. "I have always said that the only way to kill a midshipman is to cut off his head and throw the head away; otherwise he will come to life, sure. There is a young man on board now who was shipwrecked, had an arm and three ribs broken, survived a Spanish doctor, and is apparently as good as new. You two must be first cousins."

Dr. MacBean did not know he was a prophet. When the doctor left him Archy got up quietly, and, dressing himself as fast as he could, made for the deck. He found himself weaker than he expected, and as he reached the top of the main-hatch he sat down awhile to rest himself. It was a sunny afternoon, mild for the season, and the vast deck of the great ship of the line was alive with men as she ploughed her way majestically over the waters. As far as the eye could reach the sea was flecked with sails. The "dratted convoy," as the sick-bay nurse called it, consisted of a great number of store-ships containing relief for the starving but indomitable garrison at Gibraltar, under General Sir George Eliot. A huge fleet, under Sir George Rodney, escorted it, and the men-of-war, compelled to carry reduced sail, so as to keep up with the slow supply-ships, were formed in double column in the rear of the convoy. The Royal George led the left wing.

Presently, in the bright afternoon, they saw a ship approaching them on the opposite tack. The Royal George was in advance of the rest of the squadron, and as the stranger neared them it was plain, from the squareness of her rig, that she was a ship of war and she flew the Union Jack. When she was nearly abeam of the Royal George she kept her topsails shaking and broke out a signal flag. The first lieutenant, who was on the bridge, then called out to a young officer who was running up the ladder:

"Mr. Langton, stand by for signals!"

Every eye was fixed on the advancing ship except Archy's. The name, called out in the lieutenant's clear voice, had thrilled him, and when he looked up there was Langton, risen from the dead, as it were, standing in full sight and hearing of him—Langton, whom he had seen drowned before his eyes, as he thought.

The shock and surprise of it, in his weak state, stunned Archy. His brain reeled, he instinctively threw out his arms to keep from falling over, and for a few minutes lay, rather than sat, on the step of the companion-way, only half conscious of his surroundings. But joy is exhilarating, and suddenly a great wave of life and happiness seemed to flow upon him. Not only was he deeply attached to Langton, but the joy that would be given to so many persons—to Langton's heartbroken mother and sisters, to Lord Bellingham, to Colonel Baskerville—when they knew that he was alive, was like the breath of life.

After the first few moments Archy became preternaturally alert to what was going on. The two ships moving slowly, all the signals of the new-comer could be easily read, and in the perfect silence, the wind being in the right direction, every word that Langton uttered as he spoke to the Admiral and captain could be heard.

"The garrison at Gibraltar is in a very critical state. The Spaniards have besieged it hotly since the 12th of September. The Rock is impregnable, but the garrison is near starvation. It has heard of the relief on the way, but if it does not come soon it will be too late."

The stranger then signalled "Good-bye," filled her sails, and proceeded on her way. On board the Royal George the painful impression made by the news they had just heard was obvious. The officers collected in groups about the quarter-deck, while forward the men talked over what they had seen, as several of them could make a shift to read the signals.

In a few moments Langton came stepping briskly and gracefully along the deck amidships. As he approached Archy rose to his feet and steadied himself. When they were not more than a yard apart their eyes met.

They stood staring at each other for a full minute, and then Archy—the gay, the debonair, the impetuous—was the first to show weakness. He trembled like a girl, and when Langton put both hands on his shoulders he almost had to hold Archy up.

"I thought you were drowned!" gasped Archy.

"So I thought myself, and a great many other persons too. But you—you are as white as a sheet; and where is your hair? and how, in Heaven's name, came you on the Royal George?"

"I am the fellow that was carried off by the press-gang. No one knew my name until an hour or two ago. I have many things to tell you—things that will surprise you. But do you tell me first how you came to life, for I swear I saw you dead."

"I was very near it when I came to myself, thrown high and dry on the rocks where the poor Seahorse went to pieces. Some fishermen in the tunny fisheries found me, and I was a month between life and death in a hut near those very rocks, with a Spanish doctor who spoke no English or French, and I spoke no Spanish. I suppose, as Dr. MacBean would say, if it were possible to kill a midshipman by ordinary means I should not be here now; but I escaped with my life, in spite of the doctor. It is a long story how I got to Barcelona and from thence to England; and within a week from the time I landed at Plymouth I was ordered to this ship. As there is fighting before us, I could not ask for leave, even to see my dear mother; but I wrote her, and I hope she knows by this time that I am still alive to love her and plague her."

"Can you come below with me? I have something important to tell you."

"My watch is up, but I must go below on an errand. I am as anxious to hear as you are to tell. I will be with you in five minutes."

And Langton ran below, leaving Archy almost doubting whether, after all, he had really seen his friend in the flesh.