I then told O'Brien how I had written to Captain Savage, and had had the fact attested by the major who had made us prisoners. "Well, Peter," said O'Brien, after a pause, "there is a fable about a lion and a mouse. If, by your means, I have obtained my promotion, why, then the mouse is a finer baste than the lion." For a few days after this O'Brien was very uneasy, but fortunately letters arrived by that time; one to me from my father, in which he requested me to draw for whatever money I might require, saying that the whole family would retrench in every way to give me all the comfort which might be obtained in my unfortunate situation. I wept at this kindness, and more than ever longed to throw myself in his arms, and thank him. He also told me that my uncle William was dead, and that there was only one between him and the title, but that my grandfather was in good health, and had been very kind to him lately. My mother was much afflicted at my having been made a prisoner, and requested I would write as often as I could. O'Brien's letter was from Captain Savage; the frigate had been sent home with despatches, and O'Brien's conduct represented to the Admiralty, which had, in consequence, promoted him to the rank of lieutenant. O'Brien came to me with the letter, his countenance radiant with joy as he put it into my hands. In return I put mine into his, and he read it over. "Peter, my boy, I'm under great obligations to you. When you were wounded and feverish, you thought of me at a time when you had quite enough to think of yourself; but I never thank in words. I see your uncle William is dead. How many more uncles have you?" "My uncle John, who is married, and has already two daughters." "Blessings on him; may he stick to the female line of business! Peter, my boy, you shall be a lord before you die." "Nonsense, O'Brien; I have no chance. Don't put such foolish ideas in my head." "What chance had I of being a lieutenant, and am I not one? But, Peter, do me one favour; as I am really a lieutenant, just touch your hat to me only once, that's all: but I wish the compliment, just to see how it looks." "Lieutenant O'Brien," said I, touching my hat, "have you any further orders?" "Yes, sir," replied he, "that you never presume to touch your hat to me again, unless we sail together, and then that's a different sort of thing." About a week afterwards, O'Brien came to me, and said, "The new moon's quartered in with foul weather; if it holds, prepare for a start. I have put what is necessary in your little haversack; it may be tonight. Go to bed now, and sleep for a week if you can, for you'll get but little sleep, if we succeed, for the week to come."