“Who comes there?” cried the sentinel, with a vigilance and vigor that he intended should compensate for his previous neglect of duty. “Walk straight, that he may see you,” said Borroughcliffe, with much philosophy. “Who goes there?” repeated the sentinel, throwing his musket to a poise, with a rattling sound that echoed along the naked walls. “Walk crooked,” added Borroughcliffe, “that if he fire he may miss.” “We shall be shot at, with this folly,” muttered Manual. “We are friends, and your officer is one of us.” “Stand, friends--advance, officer, and give the counter-sign,” cried the sentinel. “That is much easier said than done,” returned his captain; “forward, Mr. Amphibious, you can walk like a postman--move to the front, and proclaim the magical word, 'loyalty;' 'tis a standing countersign, ready furnished to my hands by mine hosts the colonel; your road is then clear before you--but hark----” Manual made an eager step forward, when, recollecting himself, he turned, and added: “My assistants, the seamen! I can do nothing without them.” “Lo! the keys are in the doors, ready for my admission,” said the Englishman; “turn them, and bring out your forces.” Quick as thought, Manual was in the room of Griffith, to whom he briefly communicated the situation of things, when he reappeared in the passage, and then proceeded on a similar errand to the room of the Pilot. “Follow, and behave as usual,” he whispered; “say not a word, but trust all to me.” The Pilot arose, and obeyed these instructions without asking a question, with the most admirable coolness. “I am now ready to proceed,” said Manual, when they had joined Borroughcliffe. During the short time occupied in these arrangements, the sentinel and his captain had stood looking at each other with great military exactitude, the former ambitious of manifesting his watchfulness, the latter awaiting the return of the marine. The captain now beckoned to Manual to advance and give the countersign. “Loyalty,” whispered Manual, when he approached the sentinel. But the soldier had been allowed time to reflect; and as he well understood the situation of his officer, he hesitated to allow the prisoner to pass, After a moment's pause, he said: “Advance, friends.” At this summons the whole party moved to the point of his bayonet; when the man continued: “The prisoners have the countersign, Captain Borroughcliffe, but I dare not let them pass.” “Why not?” asked the captain; “am I not here, sirrah? do you not know me?” “Yes, sir, I know your honor, and respect your honor; but I was posted here by my sergeant, and ordered not to let these men pass out on any account.” “That's what I call good discipline,” said Borroughcliffe, with an exulting laugh; “I knew the lad would not mind me any more than that he would obey the orders of that lamp. Here are no slaves of the lamp, my amphibious comrade; drill ye your marines in this consummate style to niceties?”