Gerty with her flowers of blue, Gerty with the bonnie blush on her cheek and the love-light in her eye, Grantley Hall, green grassy walks, dial-stone, and all vanished in a hand-clap, and next moment Jack was hurriedly dressing to go on deck. She was a French sloop of war. Disappointed at his want of success on the previous night, Jack announced to Tom Fairlie his generous intention of blowing her sky-high. So all sail was crowded in chase. The sloop bore away before the wind. She knew, perhaps, her best course for safety and escape. It was very tantalizing but very exciting withal. She might have been a phantom ship, so steadily did she crack on all day long, Jack never getting a knot nearer, nor she a knot farther off. Stun'-sails were set and carried away, all was done that could be done; but when at last the crimson sun sank in a pink and purple haze, all on board could see that the sloop had won the race. But strange things happen, and but for this sloop Jack would never have had the honour of being at the battle of Camperdown. They had sailed very far north; and about five bells in the morning watch, while it was still dark, the _Tonneraire_ found herself surrounded with mighty men-of-war. Now, if these were Frenchmen, the days and years of the swift _Tonneraire_ were assuredly numbered. But they were not. They were the ships of Britannia, who was even then ruling the sea--the fleet of bold Scotch Duncan, who had been refitting at Yarmouth, when he had heard that the great Dutch fleet of De Winter had at last crawled out of the Texel, and was on its way south to effect a junction with the French, then--Heaven help Britannia! "Going to join the French fleet De Winter is, is he?" Scotch Duncan said when he heard the news. Duncan never said a bad word, but on this memorable occasion he hitched up his Scotch breeks and added, "I'll be dashed if he does. Make the signal 'Up anchor!'" Having issued this order, he coolly entered his state-room to lock his drawers and put away his papers and jewellery, for he knew the ship would be knocked about a bit. As he did so he whistled "Johnnie Cope." And now the _Tonneraire_ was hailed by the flagship, and told to fall in with the fleet. Tom Fairlie rubbed his hands with delight, M'Hearty chuckled, and old Simmons rumbled out some remark to the effect that he knew Duncan well, and that "you youngsters" (that was Tom and Jack) "will soon have your fill of honour and glory." So they did. And braver battle than Camperdown was never fought. Not only did our fellows exhibit the greatest of courage, but gallant De Winter as well. The Dutch had about twenty ships, and we nineteen in all. Since the suppression of the mutiny at the Nore, Duncan had regained all his fleet; and the men seemed determined to wipe out the stain that had blackened their characters. And right well they succeeded.