“I was thinking,” said the midshipman, “if, as you say, we miss the mother, that she might be received by Captain Timmins’s lady and daughter. They are on board the Thetis frigate, which is going to Genoa. The Captain’s wife and daughters are to land at Malta, I understand.” “Faith! may be Captain Timmins would not be very much obliged to you for troubling his good lady with the care of such a delicate little girl as the poor thing asleep there.” “She is only delicate from suffering and privation,” said William Thornton; “besides, she belongs to a good English family, who will receive her most willingly; and who knows what’s in this casket—the Duchess said there were jewels of value.” “Well, by Jove! my lad,” said the good-humoured Lieutenant, “you are standing up stoutly for your young _protégée_. However, there’s no use imagining disasters that may not occur. Her mother may be rescued; and, if not, we must do our best for the child, and try to get her to England. Now I think of it, there are two transports returning to England at anchor outside, and lots of women on board one of them, so, at least, I heard. However, let us get ready for a start; it’s nearly time, so wake up your little charge.” It was nearly eleven o’clock ere the boat left the basin to return to the Victory. Mabel Arden, carefully muffled in a boat-cloak, and keeping as close to her young protector as she dared, was extremely anxious, and won upon the good-nature of Lieutenant Cooke by her gentle, affectionate manner, and sweet, interesting face. It was a very still, fine night, but fortunately much overcast. Having passed out into the inner harbour, the men pulled steadily, and without speaking a word, till they cleared the dangerous vicinity of some of the vessels of war anchored near the dock basin. Without being challenged, they gained the outward harbour, avoiding the line of heavy ships anchored in double rows. William Thornton kept the boat away from the shore. As there is no tide in Toulon harbour, or in the Mediterranean, of more than a few inches, and that merely caused by peculiar gales of wind, they were able to row close along the beach. It was scarcely possible to distinguish objects on the shore, so, for fear those they expected might miss them, a dark lantern was opened, with its light towards the beach. They could distinctly distinguish the huge hulls and masts of the nearest men-of-war, several of them not being more than a couple of hundred yards from them. As they pulled slowly along, they suddenly beheld a bright light ashore; it was held up for a moment only, and then all became dark again, but at the same moment a hail from the nearest ship came over the still waters. “Pull in, my men,” said the Lieutenant. “By Jove! we are seen, and shall have a shot next.”