Mr Johnson was right, as subsequent events proved. The fog was so dense that we could not see a single sail, close as we were to them, and we expected every instant to run into one, or to be hailed and probably discovered. The men were sent without noise to their quarters, for of course it was resolved that we should fight our way out from the midst of our enemies. On we glided. The dim form of a ship was seen on our starboard bow. Our course was slightly altered, but it was only to get nearer another. A Frenchman hailed. Captain Collyer answered; what he said I do not know. It seemed to satisfy the stranger. No shot was fired, and we stood on. Still there was something peculiarly solemn and awful in the feeling that any moment we might be engaged in an encounter against the most overwhelming odds. Again the upper sails of another ship appeared. From their height she was evidently a ship which might have sunk us with a broadside. By seeing this second ship, Captain Collyer was able to ascertain in what direction the enemy's fleet was standing. As soon as he had done this, our helm was put up, and away we noiselessly glided to the westward. The bells were soon no longer heard--the boom of the guns became fainter and fainter every minute, and at length we had the satisfaction of feeling that we were well clear of them. "Depend on it, you have never been nearer inside a French prison or a watery grave than you have been this morning," observed Mr Johnson to me. "I don't know that. When I was aboard the lugger, and floating about in the channel, I was rather nearer both one and the other," I answered. "You thought you were, but, as the event proved, you were not," said the boatswain. "Depend on it, I am right, Mr Merry. If the captain had not been a good French scholar our fate would have been sealed long before this. We never know on what apparently trivial circumstances our safety depends." Mr Johnson, it may have been remarked, was never at a loss for an argument or a remark of some sort. His pertinacity in that respect puts me in mind of a certain kind-hearted Royal Duke with whom I once had the honour of dining--a number of naval and military officers being present. "Captain R---," said he, addressing one of them, "how is your father?" "Your Royal Highness, he is dead," was the answer. "Oh! is he? poor fellow! Then, how is your mother?" "Your Royal Highness, she is dead also." "Oh, is she? Then which died first?" asked the Duke in a tone which made it very difficult even for the best bred of the company to refrain from laughing. Without further adventure the Doris and her prize arrived safely in Plymouth Sound.