Jack went away laughing to himself. Little those boys--who not long since left home and Merrie England--know or care that ere another hour, perhaps, the decks of the _Tonneraire_ may be slippery with blood. Ah! all the care was his--was the post-captain's. Uneasy lies the head that--hallo! He had just entered the ward-room, and found all the fellows there quite as happy as the middies. They were at dessert, for they dined earlier than their captain. M'Hearty was seated at the head of the table, and was spinning a short but funny yarn, to which his messmates' laugh was ready chorus. Tom was vice-president; the lieutenants, the purser, and officers of the marines were ranged along the tables, red jackets and blue, forming a pretty contrast; the table was laden with fruit and flowers from the island they had that morning left, while glasses and cruets sparkled on a tablecloth white as snow. Jack took all this in at a glance as he entered with a preliminary tap, which was not heard in the delicious hubbub. He almost sighed to think that he had to go away and dine all by himself alone. On seeing the captain, every one rose, nor would they be seated until he consented to sit down. "Just sit down, Captain Mackenzie," said M'Hearty, with a merry twinkle in his eye, "and have a glass of wine while your soup is getting cold." "If the president bids me, I must obey," said Jack, seating himself beside Tom. "It must be but for a moment. There are older men than myself here--our worthy Master Simmons, for example. I came to take your views about that Frenchman. He is evidently a battle-ship, probably a seventy-four. I say fight him; but considering this is my first captaincy--" But he was interrupted. Every man rose to his feet. It was a strange council of war, because every man held aloft a glass of wine. The words, "Fight him!" ran round the table like platoon firing. There was determination in every eye and in every voice, from the deep bass of the gray-bearded master down to the shrill treble of the rosy-cheeked fledgeling marine-officer Murray, a mere boy, who would certainly have seemed more in place in the cricket-field than on the battle-deck. "I'm going now," said Jack. "Thank you all.--Excuse me, won't you, Dr. M'Hearty? I think the soup is cold enough by this time. But we'll make it hot for the enemy." "Hurrah!" The moon was later in rising that night, being on the wane. It was the first lieutenant's watch from eight till twelve. Nothing transpired until about seven bells, when Jack and Tom Fairlie were walking slowly up and down the poop. The moon was now well up, but hidden by a mass of cumulus cloud. Presently she would burst into view, for the clouds were sailing slowly along the horizon, and near hand was a rift of blue. Instinctively as it were, both officers stopped to gaze in that direction. In a few seconds the moon shot into the field of blue, and her light flashed over the sea.