Flushing to the roots of his hair, Miles stepped hastily aside. As he did so there was heard an awful rend of a sort that tests the temper of women! It was followed by a musical scream. The girl's dress had caught on a block tackle. Miles leaped forward and unhooked it. He was rewarded with a smiling "Thank you," which was followed by a blush of confusion as Miss Drew's mother exclaimed, "Oh! Marion--how _could_ you?" by way of making things easier for her, no doubt! "You did that, young man, about as smart as I could a' done it myself," growled a voice behind him. The speaker was Jack Molloy, and a general titter followed Miles as he hurried away. As we have said, the weather became much worse when the troop-ship drew near to the Bay of Biscay; and it soon became evident that they were not to cross that famous portion of the Atlantic, without experiencing some of the violent action for which it is famed. But by that time most of the soldiers, according to Molloy, had got their sea-legs on, and rather enjoyed the tossing than otherwise. "I do like this sort o' thing," said a beardless young fellow, as a number of the men sat on camp-stools, or stood on the weather-side of the deck, chatting together about past times and future prospects. "Ha!" exclaimed a seaman, who stood near them coiling up a rope; "hold on till you've got a taste o' the Bay. This is a mill-pond to that. And you'll have the chance to-night. If you don't, I'm a Dutchman." "If I do, you'll have a taste of it too, old salt-water, for we're in the same boat," retorted the young red-coat. "True, but we ain't in the same body;" returned the sailor. "I should just like to see your four-futt legs wobblin' about in a nor'-west gale. You'd sing another song." "Come, Macleod," cried Moses Pyne, "tip us a Gaelic song." "Hoots, man, wull ye be wantin' to be made sea-seek?--for that's what'll do it," said the big Scotsman. "Na, na, let Gaspard sing us `The Bay o' Biscay O!' That'll be mair appropriate." There was a general chorus of assent to this; and as Gaspard Redgrave was an obliging man, untroubled by false modesty, he cleared his throat and began. His voice, being a really splendid one, attracted all the men who chanced to be within range of it: among others, Miles, who was passing at the moment with a bag of biscuits in one hand and a meat-can in the other. He leaned up against one of those funnels which send fresh air down to the stokers of steam-ships. He had listened only a few moments when Marion Drew glided amongst the men, and seemed to stand as if entranced with delight in front of him, steadying herself by a rope, for the vessel was pitching a good deal as well as rolling considerably. At the first chorus the crowd burst forth with wild enthusiasm-- "As we lay, on that day, In the Bay of Biscay O!" Dwelling with unnecessary length and emphasis on the "O!"