Archy went below, and in a few minutes Langton bounded into the little cabin. Archy, who was of a demonstrative nature, seized him and hugged him hard, and Langton seemed equally as overjoyed to see him.

"Langton," were Archy's first words, "do you know who you are?"

Langton looked at him keenly instead of replying. He thought perhaps Dr. MacBean had let his patient out of bed too soon.

"I say," said Archy, earnestly, "do you know that you are my first cousin?"

Langton was sure then that Archy's brain was still unsettled by the clip over the ear he had got.

"Yes, yes, I know it," he answered, soothingly; "it's all right. Don't vex yourself about it, though."

"But, Langton, I know that you are Lord Bellingham's grandson," cried Archy.

A deep flush overspread Langton's handsome face.

"I know it, too; but he drove my mother out of his house for marrying my father—an honorable soldier, an honest gentleman, and a better man than Lord Bellingham."

"I believe you."

"And as he treated my mother so ill and insulted my father, I have no desire for the world to know that I am his grandson."

"But he did the same by my father and mother. My father was his only son, and he went to America, and that is how I came to be an American."

"I did not know that. My mother told me she had an only brother; that he had left England, and had given up all communication with his family. It is true that when I heard your name—Baskerville—I remembered that it had been my mother's name; but as you never spoke of any English relatives, I was no prophet to discover that we were first cousins. Why," continued Langton, saying what everybody else did, "you are the heir!"

"No, I am not. You are much more likely to be master of Bellingham than I. Do you suppose Lord Bellingham would ever make an American his heir? Oh, you don't know him. But you ought to know our uncle, Colonel Baskerville—glorious old chap. Did you never hear of him?"

"Yes, but he was in India; and you forget that I left home when I was eleven years old, and I did not much care for family histories then. Why, however, did you never mention to me that Lord Bellingham was your grandfather?"

"Because my commodore, the great Paul Jones, advised me that the less I said about it the better as long as I was in the American Navy; and he warned me if I were captured at any time that it might go the harder with me if it was known that I was of an English family. The day I left the Seahorse, when I went into the cabin to say good-bye to Captain Lockyer, and get his letter to Admiral Kempenfelt, he had an open 'Peerage and Baronetage' before him. He asked me one or two questions about my father's and mother's names, and then quietly wrote, before my face, that I was Lord Bellingham's grandson. Foolishly enough, I thought when I got to England that my grandfather might help me to get exchanged. But Commodore Jones was right—it went the harder with me on that account, and I don't propose to trust myself shortly within reach of the Admiralty. I shall take my chances at Gibraltar."

"You always were, and always will be, a fellow for adventure. Now, tell me all that has befallen you—and, by George! how comical you look without any hair!"

Archy plunged into his story. He told it with fire and energy. Langton listened, deeply interested, and only interrupted the recital occasionally by gusts of laughter when Archy told of some of the peculiarly odd circumstances that had happened to him. Then Langton told his story. There was nothing to laugh at in that; it was only a modest history of his sufferings since they had parted, not the least of which was the cruel disappointment of leaving England without seeing his mother and sisters.

"There is not much money at home to spare," he said; "so, besides that I could not ask for leave when ordered for active service, I thought I could benefit my mother most by going where there was likely to be prize-money. And that gave me heart to come cheerfully—as I had to come anyhow. By the way, do you know we have a royal prince on board—Prince William Henry, second son of your friend King George III., otherwise known in the mess as Billy. He is a tolerably good sort of a chap, not very bright, but takes what comes, along with the rest of us, like a true-born Briton. You will see him at the mess."

"If I go to the mess. But, look you, Langton, I do not budge to the mess unless I am invited in due form, just as you invite a French midshipman. As Commodore Jones said of Admiral de la Motte Piquet, 'I can show a commission as respectable as any the French Admiral can produce'; and so can I."

"I will see to it that your high mightiness is invited in form. But let me ask you—how is it that you Americans, who preach liberty and equality and republican simplicity, and all that sort of thing, are invariably haughty and punctilious to the last degree?"

"Only with benighted Europeans, my dear Langton. With each other we are like the Spanish grandees, who, I have heard, call each other Nick and Jack and Rob—or their Spanish equivalents—and are all ease and familiarity among themselves. But when they meet another less great than themselves, they are careful to give him all his names and honors and titles."

Langton went off laughing at this, and left Archy congratulating himself on having given a clinching reason, until he recalled Colonel Baskerville's remark, that to have the best of it at repartee was by no means to have the best of it in reason and common-sense. Dear old chap! Archy meant, the very next day, to write him a long letter, telling him the events of every moment since they parted.

Presently a note was brought in, addressed to Midshipman Baskerville, late of the continental ship Bon Homme Richard. It was an invitation to be the guest of the midshipmen's mess. Archy examined it carefully and critically. Yes, it was in due form, although neither the writing, the spelling, nor the grammar was above reproach. He accepted the invitation, and signed his name and rank in a large, bold hand, and was glad enough to do so.

Before supper was ready Archy went on deck again. Lounging on the rail was a little midshipman who, Archy speedily discovered, was the scion of royalty, Prince William. A more harmless, quiet, common-place reefer he had never seen. The twilight was fast melting into night, and Archy was watching with interest the movements of the fleet and convoy, larger than anything of the kind he had ever seen before, when the ship's bell clanged out suddenly for "Fire!" Archy suspected that it was merely a fire-drill, and so evidently thought Prince William, for, rousing himself and seeing Admiral Digby near him unconcernedly studying the stars through his glass, the young Prince walked leisurely to his station, and was the last midshipman to take his place at the head of his division.

The Admiral's eyes flashed—that was not the sort of discipline he proposed to allow. He glanced up at the bridge, where stood Captain Fulke; but the captain either did not see the young Prince's dilatoriness or else he did not choose to see it. Archy watched with interest what the Admiral would do. As soon as the drill was over and the men had left their quarters, the Prince passed close by the Admiral, who spoke sharply to him.

"Your Royal Highness will remember that this is his Majesty's ship Royal George, and not a hayfield at harvest time. Masthead, sir."

Prince William, whose rosy face instantly grew a picture of woe, nevertheless made his way aloft with much greater alacrity than he had made his station. The men grinned slyly at each other, and a midshipman behind the Admiral made a motion as if to pat him on the back. Archy opened his eyes wide—this was discipline, indeed.

Presently the Admiral passed near him. Archy saluted him respectfully, and hoped the Admiral would speak to him, and was not disappointed.

"I hear that you and young Langton have found yourselves to be first cousins, Mr. Baskerville," he said.

"Yes, sir; and the best of friends we were from the day we met."

"You have had considerable experience as a prisoner on British ships, eh? First, on the Seahorse, then on the Thunderer, and now on the Royal George."

"I have always been well treated, sir. That is, if I wasn't well treated in the beginning, I was in the end."

"That speaks well for you, sir. It is sometimes difficult to get our young officers to treat Americans with respect; but I, among others—notably Admiral Keppel—have always insisted that they be accorded all the consideration of prisoners of war, even before the late formal agreement was made."

"I, for one, will remember it with gratitude, sir. But, may I say to you, sir, that since our conversation this afternoon I have been reflecting upon my circumstances, and I think my chances of exchange will be better at Gibraltar than if I were to be returned to England, as you kindly offered. No doubt the Spaniards will soon raise the siege, and then I can easily get to France on my parole."

"No doubt—no doubt—the Spaniards must soon give it up, and you would probably be nearer your object."

The Spaniards were never farther from giving it up than at the very moment these words were uttered.

As the Admiral walked on, Archy was left alone. He made no move towards speaking to the number of officers that he saw standing or walking about; but Admiral Digby's example and well-known wishes were not lost on them, and presently two or three came up civilly enough and talked with him, and then it was suppertime, and Langton coming after him, the two went below to those regions, in the depths of the ship, which were thought good enough for the midshipmen. Archy was politely received, though not with the cordiality that would have been extended to a French midshipman. But Langton was a prime favorite in the mess, and the story of his connection with Archy, and their identical relationship to Lord Bellingham, had spread over the ship like wildfire. Therefore, the temperature of Archy's reception was sensibly raised when Langton announced:

"Gentlemen, Mr. Baskerville is my cousin, and we were chums before we knew we were cousins. Mr. Baskerville is heir to a peerage if he wants it, but he swears he had rather be an American, which at least shows that he has a spirit of his own. So, I say, pity it is that all such are not Englishmen."

"Agreed," piped up a very small midshipman, which caused a roar of laughter that covered the youngster with confusion.

Archy observed that Prince William was not at the table, and some one asking what had become of him, one of the older midshipmen said:

"Poor devil! When my relief reported I managed to bring in a remark to the first lieutenant about Billy, but the hint was not taken, so I fancy he is still in the cross-trees."

Just then, however, Billy walked in. He was greeted with a chorus of jeers and cheers, with inquiries how was it aloft, and was he going to tell his father, and did he intend, in the event he came to the throne, to make Admiral Digby a peer, under the title of Lord Masthead, and other remarks of a facetious nature. Billy took all this with perfect good-nature, and called for boiled beef and potatoes, but grew decidedly sulky when he heard there was no pudding.

Archy laughed as much as anybody at the chaff going on, and, as he had a peculiarly rich and ringing laugh, it attracted Billy's attention, who, without minding the banter of his comrades, seemed to feel himself deeply injured by the amusement he afforded the young American. He growled out something, of which the only distinct words were "American traitors and rebels."

There was a dead silence, and Archy felt that upon his conduct at that very moment depended the opinion of every person in the ship. He looked the Prince squarely in the eye, and said, quietly:

"Perhaps you do not know that I am an American, and late midshipman on the continental ship Bon Homme Richard."

"'PERHAPS YOU DO NOT KNOW THAT I AM AN AMERICAN'"

"Yes, I know it, and damned if I care," was his Royal Highness's reply to this.

The silence was continued. Langton, without speaking a word, smiled slightly. He knew that a firm bearing, and that alone, would establish Archy's position in the mess, and, having considerable knowledge of that young gentleman, he had no doubt of the attitude he would take.

"I might, if I chose, report you to the Admiral for insulting a prisoner of war," said Archy, in his most nonchalant manner, "but reporting is considered a deuced ungentleman-like thing in our service. So I will give you a drubbing, if you will fight me, as soon as I am able. I am just out of the sick-bay."

"Oh, Lord!" cried Billy, "I'll fight you with all the pleasure in life, but as for the Admiral—bad luck to him—he will skin me, sure, if he finds out what I said."

"Don't be afraid," answered Archy, "and take a few boxing-lessons if you can; it will not save you a drubbing, but it will be more sport to the by-standers."

"Mr. What's-your-name," said Billy, advancing and holding out his hand, "you are a gentleman, and I say so, and I shall be happy to give you satisfaction whenever you want it."

At which, the British sense of fair-play being touched, the reefers roared out a cheer. Billy stood, blinking and smiling, while Archy assumed the air of a modest hero. Great interest was aroused in the steerage by this prospective battle of the giants. Archy, who regained his health with a bound, was extremely anxious to force events, but Langton, who was his backer, would not hear of it; he meant his client to be in full fettle when he tackled the scion of royalty. Meanwhile, Archy had no fault whatever to find with his treatment in the mess, and Billy proved himself to be one of the kindest-hearted and most generous and unassuming creatures in the world, in spite of being rather dull and foolish.

At last, one morning, at the mess-table, after an unusually jolly supper the night before, when Billy and Archy had chummed together after the most approved fashion among midshipmen, Billy remarked, sagely:

"I've been thinking, Baskerville, what is the use of our fighting? I hate fighting. I always get the worst of it. But I can do it, you know."

"Of course. So can I. You are as game a fellow as I ever saw—and the object of fighting among gentlemen is to prove they are game. If the mess says so, let us consider it off."

"Why not?" replied Billy, with a grin, looking around. "They know I can fight—I have fought 'em; but there ain't any use in fighting unless one is obliged to."

"Not a bit," said Langton. "So, if you please, I shall be happy to consult with your friend as to the possibility of coming to an honorable arrangement."

"Good!" was Billy's remark; "and let me tell you, it looks to me"—here Billy cocked his eye with great knowingness—"as if we will have some fighting to do with powder and ball before long. The Admiral has not had the ships kept cleared for action ever since we began to approach Cape St. Vincent for nothing."

And then there was heard resounding through the great ship the boatswain's pipe calling all hands on deck, and a voice was heard shouting in the gangway:

"The Spanish fleet is sighted!"