In the meantime Bill reached the boat, panting with exertion, and two of the men, leaping into the water, ran to his assistance. “Not dead, I trust,” cried the midshipman, gazing at the still insensible body of our hero, as the men placed him in the bottom of the boat, on a sail. “Dead!” shrieked Bill, gasping for breath; “if he’s dead, blow my brains out, and I’ll thank you! I don’t care a curse to live if the lubbers have shot the bravest officer that ever breathed,” he continued, the heat-drops pouring down his face, and his emotion blinding him. “No, thank God! he is not dead,” said the young midshipman, as the boat pulled towards the corvette; “he is bleeding from a cut on the side of the head; but who is he, and who are you, my man? I thought this gentleman was Mr. Julian Arden.” “Not dead? hurrah!” exclaimed Bill, tossing his cap into the air; “give us your fin; blow me, but you’re a fine lad. Lord love ye! I’m a true salt, though you do see me rigged in this hermaphrodite fashion. That’s Lieutenant Thornton—bless him! he’s coming to—and I’m Bill Saunders. Both of us belong to the old Diamond, and if that ere craft is the Onyx, her commander will be as glad to see Lieutenant Thornton as his own brother.” “You are right, my fine fellow,” answered the young midshipman; “Captain O’Loughlin would give his life at any time to serve this gentleman. See, he is recovering fast,” watching Bill wash the blood from the cut and bathe his master’s face; “he was only stunned.” “It’s all right! Blow me, if I ain’t as glad as if a ship’s anchor was taken off my breast,” said Bill, as the boat shot up alongside the Onyx corvette—Commander O’Loughlin, Lieutenant Pole, and a number of the crew, crowding and gazing over the bulwarks eagerly. “Who have you there, Master Burdett?” inquired O’Loughlin, anxiously; “not Mr. Julian Arden wounded, I trust.” “No, sir,” said the midshipman, “it’s Lieutenant Thornton.” “What! Sir Oscar de Bracy!” vehemently exclaimed the commander, springing over the side into the boat, with an expression of deep emotion in his manner and voice. Our hero just then opened his eyes, and made an effort to get up. “Thank God, he is only stunned,” said O’Loughlin, joyfully, as his friend gazed into his face, with a smile, saying, in a low voice— “Not the first knock on the head, Patrick, I have had; I am not much hurt; where is Bill, Bill Saunders—you remember him?” “Here, your honour, here, thank God! and your honour’s nothing the worse. The lubbers thought to pepper us, but his honour, Captain O’Loughlin, gave them a dose they didn’t like to stay to have repeated.” “My fine fellow, I am glad to see you,” said the commander of the Onyx, shaking Bill’s hand as warmly as he would have done that of a friend; “I thought if ever one was heard of, the other would not be far off.”