"I concluded that he would do so; but as Mr Foley happens to be alive, he will be rather disappointed," said Gerald. "Dear me! has he escaped too?" exclaimed the purser. "Well, though I haven't to sell his effects, I really am glad; and so, I am sure, will be Billhook and Mac." "If you'll excuse me, sir, I'll go and communicate the pleasing intelligence to Crowhurst, who will, I hope, rejoice as much as the gun-room officers," said Gerald. Directly afterwards he met Nat Kiddle. "Come along," he said, "and see me pull old Crowhurst down a peg or two." The two midshipmen met Crowhurst coming aft. "What, youngster, are you alive?" he exclaimed. "I shall have some work for you and Kiddle directly." "Yes, old fellow, I'm alive and well," answered Gerald, "and will return to my duty as soon as the commander or one of the lieutenants orders me." "Let me tell you, youngster, I don't choose to be called old fellow, and as I am acting lieutenant, you will obey my orders." "Certainly," said Gerald, "till Mr Foley returns, which I expect he will do this evening." "What--you don't mean to say so!--did Mr Foley escape with you?" exclaimed the old mate, his countenance falling, and his whole air changing in a moment. Gerald then, with infinite satisfaction, described the way he and the lieutenant had been left on board the _Ouzel Galley_. Not being required just then, he dived into the berth to recount his adventures to the rest of his messmates. In a short time the two frigates came in, and anchored near the _Champion_, where already lay several other large ships of war forming the Jamaica fleet, under the command of Admiral Cotes. Gerald found his messmates not very much out of spirits at the loss of Beater. The old mate's body lay between two guns, covered by an ensign; and it, with that of two other men who had been killed, was carried on shore and buried in the graveyard of Port Royal, where so many gallant British seamen sleep their last. Meantime Mr Ferris and Ellen had gone on shore, escorted by Lieutenant Foley. Those were the palmy days of Kingston. Men-of-war and privateers were constantly coming in with rich prizes, whose cargoes added greatly to the wealth of the city; the streets were crowded with blacks carrying bales of all descriptions to the stores; merchants' clerks were hurrying to the quays to superintend the unloading of vessels, and naval and military officers were moving about in all directions; the seamen on leave were rolling here and there, shouting forth their sea ditties; while black and brown women with baskets of fruit and vegetables were standing at the corners of the streets, often surrounded by a party of Jack-tars, who quickly emptied them of their contents.