"What the devil's this?" said the relieving steersman, as, rubbing his heavy eyes with one hand, he stooped and raised with the other something from the deck, against which he had kicked in his advance to take the helm--"why, I'm blest if it arn't the apron off old Sally here. Have you been fingering Sally's apron, Bill?" "Not I, faith!" growled the party addressed. "I've enough to do to steer the craft, without thinking o' meddling with Sall's apron at this time o' night." "I should like to know who it is that has hexposed the old gal to the night hair in this here manner," still muttered the other, holding up the object in question to his closer scrutiny; "it was only this morning I gave her a pair of bran new apron strings, and helped to dress her myself. If she doesn't hang fire after this, I'm a Dutchman--that's all." "What signifies jawing, Tom Fluke? I suppose she got unkivered in the scurry after the Yankee; but bear a hand, and kiver her, unless you wish a fellow to stay here all night." Old Sal, our hearers must know, was no other than the long twenty-four pounder formerly belonging to Gerald's gun-boat, which, now removed to his new command, lay amid-ships, and mounted on a pivot, constituted the whole battery of the schooner. The apron was the leaden covering protecting the touch-hole, which, having unaccountably fallen off, had encountered the heavy foot of Tom Fluke, in his advance along the deck. The apron was at length replaced. Tom Fluke took the helm, and his companion departed, as he said, to have a comfortable snooze. Gerald, who had been an amused listener of the preceding dialogue, soon followed, first inquiring into the condition of his faithful Sambo, who, on examination, was found to have been stunned by the violence of the blow he had received. This, Gerald doubted not, had been given with the view of better facilitating Desborough's escape, by throwing the schooner out of her course, and occasioning a consequent confusion among the crew, which might have the effect of distracting their attention for a time from himself. CHAPTER XVII. The following evening, an armed schooner was lying at anchor in the road stead of Buffalo, at the southern extremity of Lake Erie, and within a mile of the American shore. It was past midnight--and although the lake was calm and unbroken as the face of a mirror, a dense fog had arisen which prevented objects at the head of the vessel from being seen from the stern. Two men only were visible upon the after-deck; the one lay reclining upon an arm chest, muffled up in a dread-nought pea jacket, the other paced up and down hurriedly, and with an air of pre-occupation. At intervals he would stop and lean over the gangway, apparently endeavoring to pierce through the fog and catch a glimpse of the adjacent shore, and, on these occasions, a profound sigh would burst from his chest.