“Most willingly, dear friend,” replied our hero. “I have no desire to conceal any part of my history, and least of all from you; so now listen to a very short yarn, and then you will know as much as I do myself. “I was reared in a cottage at Deal, by one of the kindest and most generous of men, and whom I honour and love as a fond father. He was once coxswain to Lord Hood, but, having lost a leg and an arm in the service, now lives upon a pension. Shortly after his retirement, he was left a comfortable annuity, and persuaded a sister of his—a widow in poor circumstances—to live with him, purchased a pretty cottage on the sea-coast near Walmer, where I grew up till I was eight years old. “I was then sent to one of the best seminaries in the county, where I first met Howard Etherton. I remained at school till I was fourteen years old, when I returned to my supposed father’s cottage. He told me I was going to serve His Majesty as a midshipman. I was delighted. One evening the old tar, who was never so happy as when relating sea-yarns, said, ‘Bill, my lad, I’ll spin you a yarn; mix my grog—there, you’re bountiful with the water—sit quiet and listen, for it consarns you. “‘I was aboard the Quebec, 36-gun frigate,’ began the old tar, ‘commanded by as brave a fellow as ever trod a deck. We were cruising off Ushant, with the Rambler cutter in company. It was the month of October, in the year 177—, we fell in with a large frigate to the sou-west of Ushant, and she had a smart cutter cruising in company. Well, we were soon hammering away at it, and kept it up for three mortal hours. Our decks were slippery with blood, our masts all gone, and our sails, lying over the guns, caught fire, and soon after we blew up, with our colours flying, and—the Lord be merciful to us!—our captain, and most of our crew were hurled into the air. “‘I can’t say how I got out of her; all I remember is that I found myself struggling in the water amid a mass of rigging and spars. I was finally picked up and carried on board the French frigate Surveillante, where I found several of my shipmates. We were treated with the greatest kindness, by order of the dying commander, who also desired that we should be put aboard the first neutral vessel they came across, for we had fought gallantly and nobly, and it was not our fault that the ship blew up. “‘The French frigate had suffered awfully; her masts, sails, and rigging were cut to pieces, and her crew half killed and wounded. We were permitted to walk about the deck. I could speak a little of their lingo, and some of them spoke ours. “‘One morning I saw a little boy, not much more than two years old, toddling about the ship’s deck, and, to my surprise, I heard him speak some words in English to one of the men. “‘“You may parley-vous to that little chap in your own language,” said one of the sailors, seeing me caress the child—for I was always soft-hearted, and the child took to me at once. “How did he come here?” asked I.