“Certainly you would, Tom; and when you once had got to read, so as to be able to enjoy it, you would have gone through all sorts of books and got lots of information from them. I am afraid, however, it is too late to worry over that. A man may be a good man and a good sailor without knowing how to read and write. I am sure you will do your share when it comes to that.” “I wonder when we shall fall in with a Frenchman?” “There is no saying. You may be sure that every man on board is longing to do so. I hope she will be a bit bigger than we are, and I know the captain hopes so too. He is for ever watching every ship that comes in sight.” When running down the coast of Spain one day the look-out at the masthead shouted: “A sail!” “What is she like?” the first lieutenant hailed. “I can only see her top-gallant sails, sir, but she is certainly a square-rigged ship bound south, and her sails have a foreign cut.” The first lieutenant swung his telescope over his shoulder and mounted the rigging. When he came to the top-gallant crosstrees he sat down and gazed into the distance through his glass. After making a careful examination of the ship he called to the captain, who was now on deck: “She is, as Johnson says, sir, a square-rigged ship, and I agree with him as to the cut of her sails. She is certainly a Frenchman, and evidently a large frigate. She is running down the coast as we are, and I expect hopes to get through the Straits at night.” “Well, edge in towards her,” the captain said. “Lower the top-gallant sails. If she hasn’t already made us out, I shall be able to work in a good deal closer to her before she does so.” All hands were now on the _qui vive_, but it was not for some time that the stranger could be made out from the deck. “You can get up our top-gallant sails again,” the captain said. “She must have made us out by this time, and she certainly has gained upon us since we first saw her. There is no longer any possibility of concealment, so hoist royals as well as top-gallant sails.” The stranger made no addition to her sails. By this time those on board the _Furious_ were able to judge of her size, and came to the conclusion that she was a battle-ship of small size, and ought to be more than a match for the _Furious_. The vessels gradually approached each other, until at last a shot was thrown across the bows of the Frenchman. She made no reply, but continued on her way as if unconscious of the presence of the English frigate. The crew of the _Furious_ could now make out that she had fifty guns, whereas their own ship had thirty-four. “Just comfortable odds,” the captain said quietly when this was reported to him. “I have no doubt she carries heavier metal as well as more guns. Altogether she would be a satisfactory prize to send into Portsmouth.”