Thus the unhappy man went raving on, conjuring up, in his excited imagination, scenes the most dreadful. Of course we heeded not his raving abuse, for we pitied him most sincerely. There was now no doubt that, while the father and his smuggling companion were drunk below, the son had been knocked overboard. In vain had the voice of the poor lad implored aid from those whose brutal intoxication prevented them even from hearing his death-shriek ere he sunk for ever. It was with the greatest difficulty we could hold the wretched man as we dragged him below and lashed him into one of the standing bed-places. He there still continued raving as before, now calling on his son to come to him, and then accusing us of his murder. His cries and groans at last awoke the other man out of his drunken trance, but it was some time before he could comprehend what had happened. He was not a father, and when at length he came to his senses, he, with brutal indifference abused his companion for disturbing him. As I stood over the skylight which had been got off to give air to the little stifling cabin, I heard him growl out, "Jim's gone, has he? his own fault then, not to keep a better look-out. It's he, then, who's brought us into this scrape; and I don't see why you should make such a jaw for what can't be helped. There now, old man, just belay all that, and let me finish my snooze. We can't hang for it, you know; there, there, now,"--and he actually turned on his side and went off to sleep again. At length the father of the drowned lad wore himself out and fell off, it seemed, into a sort of stupor. "I never knew no good come of smuggling," observed Thole, rather sententiously. "What they makes they spends as fast as they gets, and no one's the better for it." Nobody had a better right than had he to know this, for he had been somewhat addicted to the practice in his youth, and had in consequence been sent on board a man-of-war. The flood and fair wind carried us right into Portsmouth Harbour, where I dropped my anchor and pulled on shore to report my arrival to the custom-house authorities. I was in one respect sorry that my cruise was over, because I was obliged to descend from my rank as commander to that of midshipman; but as I hoped some day to regain it, I did not grieve much about it, especially as I expected to be soon able to set off and pay Larry a visit. The two smugglers were sent to prison; one afterwards entered on board of a man-of-war; the unhappy father died raving mad in the hospital, calling himself the murderer of his son. Thus ended what I may consider my first cruise. CHAPTER FOUR. MYERS THE SMUGGLER--I LEARN TO PLAY THE FIDDLE--SMELL GUNPOWDER--ACTION WITH A LUGGER--LEFT IN THE LURCH.