"Here the moustached passenger suddenly raised himself off the mast, and made one stride between us to the bulwarks, where he looked straight out at the Indiaman, his arms still folded, then from us to the French master. He was a noble-looking man, with an eye I never saw the like of in anyone else, 'twas so clear, bold, and prompt--it actually went _into_ you like a sword, and I couldn't help fancying him in the thick of a battle, with thousands of men and miles of smoke. 'Duprez,' said he, quickly, 'je vous le dis encore--debarquez ces misérables!--nous _combattrons_!' 'Then, mon ami,' said the surgeon, in a low, cool, determined tone, stepping up and laying a hand on his shoulder, 'aussi, _nous couperons les ailes de l'Aigle_, seulement!--Hush, mon ami, restrain this unfortunate madness of yours!--c'est bien mal-à-propos à present!' and he whispered something additional, on which the passenger fell back and leant against the mainmast as before. 'Ah!' said the French master in his own language, shaking his head, and giving his forehead a tap, 'le pauvre homme-là! He has had a coup-de-soleil, messieurs, or rather of the _moon_, you perceive, from sleeping in its rays! _Ma foi!_' exclaimed he, on my explaining the matter, 'c'est pos-_sible_?--we _did_ suppose your boat proposed us the honour to visit, when evidently deterred by the excessive undulation!--My friends, resign yourselves to a misfort----' 'Great heavens! Mr Stebbing,' said I, 'the boat is _lost_!' 'By George! what _will_ the captain say, then!' replied he; however as soon as I told him the sad truth, poor Stebbing, being a good-hearted fellow, actually put his hands to his face and sobbed.