He broke into a peal of laughter, and could not go on, as he thought of the ridiculous scene. "Well, Maurice, I don’t see there’s much to laugh at," grumbled Master Cheke. "Oh--oh--I’m soothly grieved," gasped Maurice repentantly, trying to speak gravely, and then bursting out into a fresh fit of uproarious mirth. At this moment the gruff voice of a man in the bows sung,--"Sail ho!" "Where away?" rang out from the Master. "On the starboard beam," came back the answer. "She’s bearing up to cross us." "Lower away that lantern, and luff a bit--so, steady," sung out the Master, who, after scanning the strange sail, went below to tell the Captain. In a few moments more the crew came tumbling up the hatches, and the Captain of the Wight appeared in his armour. Ralph and his fellow-pages went hastily below. The report had spread through the vessel that the stranger was a French ship, and that they intended fighting her. This was exciting news to the boys; they quietly armed themselves, and were returning on deck, when the piteous voice of Dicky Cheke stopped them. "Oh! I am so bad, and I can’t get off my coat!--whatever has come to it?" "Why, it’s all over tar," said Ralph. "You’ve sat down in a tar bucket." Maurice’s laughter again broke out uncontrolled, but Dicky, who now saw the trick that had been played upon him, made a sudden dash upon him, and pushed his tar-covered elbow in Maurice’s face, which effectually stopped all further laughter, and the two boys fell over on the floor of the cabin, tussling and struggling, until a kick from the sergeant-at-arms made them get up and separate; and a ludicrous sight they both presented as they stood looking at each other. Dicky’s yellow oilskin suit was all blotched and stuck together by great splashes of tar, while his hair and face were smeared with the same adhesive substance. Maurice was in very much the same condition. There was a large smear over his mouth and nose, and one eye and the side of his cheek were completely blackened. "Well you be nice young gentlemen to be pages to the Lord Captain," said the man-at-arms sarcastically. "You’d best get some one to scrape you. I’m too busy;" so saying, the sergeant left them, to follow Ralph on deck, where nearly the whole ship’s company was assembled under arms. "They means to lay us aboard, my lord," said the Master. "Certes, let them," answered the Captain of the Wight. "Then all hands had best lie down--some along the lee gunwale, but most under hatches--or else, as they range up, they’ll be afeared when they see how strong we muster," said the crafty old seaman. This order was promptly given, and in another minute the decks looked as deserted as usual, only the ordinary watch required for working a merchant vessel being left visible. *CHAPTER XXIV.* *OF "LA BEALE FRANCE."*