As the last remnants of the fog disappeared over the eastern horizon, the "Forte" loomed more and more distinctly into view. She had topgallant-sails set and single-reefed topsails. The shades of evening were now beginning to fall, and the lurid sun was shaping his course towards the bleak and barren heights that guard the shores of the Great Dark Continent. As soon as the "Forte" perceived her boat she hove-to. As the cutter ran alongside, the coxswain and his mates noticed that the hammock-nettings and ports were full of men anxious to learn the fate of their favourite midshipman. One glance into the boat was sufficient. The captain and his principal officers stood at the entry-port with pale, set faces. On hearing the coxswain's report, they turned sadly away, and an unbroken silence reigned throughout the frigate for a few moments. "Hoist the cutter up," ordered Captain Brooke, in a voice broken with emotion, "and then put the ship on her course again." CHAPTER II. It was three bells in the first watch when the coxswain of the cutter--whose name was Lobb--went on deck. Some supper and a short sleep in his hammock had wonderfully refreshed him. The gale had entirely blown itself out, and the sky was clear and strewn with brilliant stars, amongst which the Southern Cross and the Centauri glittered like gorgeous jewels set in lapis lazuli of an indigo tint. The breeze still held from the westward, and was strong enough to make the frigate heel over till her shining copper, dripping with salt spray, was visible on the weather side. Lobb went to the lee entry-port and gazed out over the phosphorescent sea. His heart was heavy as he thought of poor Jack Villiers's sad fate, and mechanically he took off his cap and sought for the pipe that lay snugly therein. "A bit of baccy is the thing to soothe a chap what's got a fit of the blues," he muttered to himself, as he charged his pipe with tobacco. "I'm jiggered if it wasn't the blackest day in my life when I failed to pick up that youngster--the brightest young fellow in the ship he was, and that there ain't no denying." His meditations were interrupted by the middy of the first watch, a bright, fair-haired boy, who, eagerly running up to him, exclaimed: "Oh, Lobb, I wanted to see you so much about----" And he hesitated. "Ah, it's Mr. Thring," said the coxswain, pausing in the act of lighting his pipe. "I'm main sorry for you, sir, I can assure you, for I know right well what chums you and Mr. Villiers were, and it must strike to your very heart, as one may say." [Illustration: (Thring and the coxswain)] Thring's eyes filled with tears, and he felt thankful that it was too dark for the seaman to observe his emotion. He was quite a youngster, having joined the "Forte" straight from the "Britannia" training-ship only a year before our story opens. "Tell me all that happened, Lobb," he said at length, in a strained voice. "The captain only gave me a few particulars."