Lieutenant Thornton, before the hour arrived for setting out on the expedition, felt not the slightest uneasiness from the contusion on his head, but was anxious and disturbed lest his absence might materially affect the future happiness of those most dear to him. He was also greatly puzzled respecting the motives and means adopted for seizing him and Julian; for those awaiting him at Lyon Head, no doubt thought that Julian would, as usual, accompany him. He had observed a man, not in uniform, stand forward prominently amongst the armed men, and, with violent gesticulations, urge them to reload and pursue; who he was he could have no idea; but it satisfied him that they had been stationed there to intercept him. On ascending upon deck, he found the Onyx was lying-to, with her fore-top sails aback, and her courses brailed. There was a steady breeze from the land, the water quite smooth, and the sky cloudy. It was now nearly nine o’clock, and the crew were busy preparing for the expedition. “It will not be dark till nearly ten o’clock,” said Lieutenant Pole, joining our hero. “You had a lucky escape from those fellows, William.” “By Jove! I had, Charles,” responded our hero. “Have you had any letters or news from England since Julian Arden left you?” “No; we have not spoken with any craft from England who left later than ourselves. We were in company with the Niger, Captain Foote, two or three days. He chased a large privateer lugger, who escaped by running in under the Penmarks, and anchored; and he very gallantly cut her out with his boats, after a very desperate resistance; but she had no news, except a rumour of peace.” “I do not believe there is the slightest chance of it,” said our hero, thoughtfully; for he was thinking of Mabel. “Did you hear where the Diamond was?” “I think I heard one of the officers of the Niger say she returned to Plymouth after the unfortunate attempt upon the Vengeance. What do you propose doing, William?” “I am so put out by this unfortunate affair that I cannot exactly say. I had hoped to effect the escape of Madame Coulancourt and her family from France; but I fear that is now impossible. They may accuse her of intending to leave the country—imprison her, and confiscate her property. In fact, there is no knowing what train of misfortunes may ensue. I have a great mind, after this cutting-out business, to land and endeavour to discover how they are situated.” “I fear you would rashly risk your life, William, and do no good. What could you do single-handed? Besides, now you are free, you will be expected either to retire from the service, or return and report yourself.” “I will not retire during a time of war, Charles, you may depend. If I could only ascertain any tidings of those in the château, I should be lighter in heart.” “Who knows what may occur to-night?” said Lieutenant Pole; “something may turn up—it’s impossible to foresee what may happen.”