The last statement, it may be remembered, left Fitz-Ullin crossing the space between the two ships. While getting on board the Euphrasia he beheld the figure of an officer, who was busily engaged on the quarter deck, and whose proportions and air instantly riveted his whole attention. The officer turned round; the countenance was Edmund’s. He was giving hasty orders for taking advantage of the tide, which was now beginning to flow. Occasionally he passed his hand across his forehead, or held it a moment before his eyes, while his officers were collected round him, earnestly recommending a few moments repose. “I am quite well now,” he replied, “if we do not get her off this tide she will go to pieces before the next. When there is time to think of it, I shall lose a little blood,” he added, in answer to a strong remonstrance from the surgeon. Fitz-Ullin, at the moment, rushed through the circle into the arms of his friend. “The exertions of Captain Montgomery,” continued the paper, “to get his ship afloat, were ably seconded by Lord Fitz-Ullin and the officers and crews of both vessels, and finally crowned with success.” After which, the next object became to secure the numerous captures made in the course of that brilliant day. This was effected with much labour, by literally towing them out from under their own silenced batteries. And when, at length, the two detached ships were seen returning from their victorious expedition, and approaching the fleet with their little squadron of prizes in tow, the hearty and general cheering with which they were received was such as baffles all description; still less would it be possible to convey any adequate idea of the enthusiasm with which that cheering was doubled and redoubled, when Captain Montgomery, who, from the accounts brought to the fleet by the cutter, was believed to have fallen, was discerned standing on his quarter deck, waving his hat, and bowing, in return for the congratulations of all. On joining the fleet, our hero learnt, for the first time, the report which had prevailed of his death, and that it had been carried to England. In consequence, he dispatched the letter to Mrs. Montgomery, which we have seen Julia and Frances, as soon as they perceived Edmund’s writing on the cover, so unceremoniously tearing open. The paper, as might be expected, expatiated at great length on the gratified feelings with which they found themselves enabled to contradict the report of Captain Montgomery’s death. The subject, in short, engrossed every column of every public print of the day. There was scarcely room for an advertisement! Wherever you cast your eye, Captain Montgomery, in large letters, appeared before you. Every figure of newspaper rhetoric was set forth: the pathetic, the heroic, the sublime, but above all, the triumphant. CHAPTER VI.