In the month of August the British fleet, under Lord Hood, arrived before the port of Toulon. Two commissioners from the Royalist party came on board the Victory, to treat for the surrender of the port and shipping to the British. William Thornton’s favorite companion amongst the mids was a youth named Charles Pole, a fine spirited lad of his own age. They were leaning over the bulwarks, gazing at the boats rowing aboard with the two commissioners, and then a look was cast at the bold high land of Cape Cesi, and the entrance to the noble gulf of Toulon. “I wish they would commence hammering away at those grim looking forts on the heights,” said Charles Pole to his comrade, “I’m tired of doing nothing.” “_Il dolce far niente_,” said William Thornton, “the Italian’s supreme delight, that and serenading his lady love by the light of a bright moon.” “Oh! wait a bit, my beauties,” said O’Loughlin, joining them, “you won’t talk of the _dolce far niente_ in a day or two, for it’s all up with negotiations. We shall have those grim forts talking to us shortly, and faith, I’m longing myself to have a bout with those republican bloodhounds.” O’Loughlin was right in his conjectures. Lord Hood, in great perplexity as to the intentions of the royalist party, resolved upon the hazardous experiment of sending an officer into the town to ascertain how matters stood, being aware that Rear-Admiral St. Julian with the bulk of the French fleet sided with the Republicans. This perilous expedition was confided to the judgment and courage of Lieutenant Edward Cooke, who was to select a midshipman to accompany him. “Take Thornton, Cooke,” said O’Loughlin, “that’s the lad for the work; as courageous as a lion and as cool as a lettuce. Do you remember how he behaved in the affair off Cadiz? If you come back safe, which I predict you will, it will be a feather in his cap.” “The very one I would have selected,” said Lieutenant Cooke; “but he’s too young to run the gauntlet through the French fleet; it’s almost a pity.” To the great delight of Thornton he was selected. “I think,” said Howard Etherton, with a malicious grin, and giving his chum Dykes a poke in the ribs, “I think we shall be one less in our mess by this time to-morrow. I suppose he will leave his kit to you, Pole?” “I hope he will live to break your head yet,” said Charles Pole, with a look of contempt as he walked on. “Thank you, Master Pole; we shall not forget that,” bawled out Howard Etherton. A remarkably fast gig was selected to take the Lieutenant and his young companion, and eight picked men, Saunders, the top-man, being one of them. It was ten o’clock at night when the gig left the side of the ship. It was blowing very fresh, and, considering the time of year, extremely dark. Our hero was steering. “Now, William,” said the Lieutenant, “keep her away for the high land, yonder; and when we come abreast of the ships, steer boldly right into the midst of them.”