Everything was going on as tranquilly as possible. Hanks was sweeping the horizon with his glass, looking out for the cutter, when suddenly, without the slightest warning, I saw the sentry's pistol knocked out of his fist, and he himself hove headlong into the sea. Away flew the skipper's cigar, and up he jumped as lively as a cricket, and, with two of his men, threw himself upon Hanks, who, taken unawares (his eyes engaged in his telescope), was bundled overboard. I tried to catch him by the leg, but his old blue trousers tore in my grasp, and a big Frenchman dealt me such a blow on the head that I was for an instant stunned. When I came to my senses, I saw the wherry dropping astern, and the Frenchmen, with pump-handles and boat-hooks, striking at the poor fellows they had hove overboard, with the foul intent of drowning them. I observed that somebody was in the wherry, for her sails were being hoisted, and I was bolting aft for the purpose of jumping into the water and swimming to her, when the skipper caught me by the arm. "Stay, my little fellow," he exclaimed; "we don't want to hurt you, and don't want witnesses to this work. You must go with us." While he was speaking, some of the smugglers had got hold of the muskets which our people had brought on board, and presenting them at the wherry, snapped the locks. Fortunately they were not loaded, or the priming had fallen out, and the villains were saved from the perpetration of further crimes. The men in the water swam towards the wherry, and I judged from her movements that those in her were engaged in picking them up. I sang out and struggled in vain; but the Frenchman held me fast, and finally, to save himself further trouble, lifted me up by the collar and shoved me down the companion-hatch into the cabin, closing the slide over me. There was I, like a mouse caught in a trap. At first I burst into a fit of tears, more from rage and indignation at being outwitted and surprised by the Frenchman than from the prospect in store for me, which was not, however, very pleasant. I might expect to be kept a prisoner in some out-of-the-way place in France, or perhaps, to be shipped to the other side of the globe and to be unable to return home for years to come. I made ineffectual attempts to get on deck to see what had become of Hanks and our men; but as I could not move the slide, I was obliged to sit down quietly in the cabin. My melting mood was soon over. "Better now," thought I to myself. "I won't let these big blackguards of Frenchmen see me down-hearted, any how. For the honour of old Ireland and the name of D'Arcy, I'll put a bold face on the matter," and I began to sing. There was a row on deck, and a great deal of jabbering; and the little vessel heeled over to the breeze; but I had no means of discovering what was taking place, nor where we were going.