“There is certainly, sir, no Babet to be seen,” replied Mr. Lochart, “and it makes me uneasy; for if we had not tacked we should have been unable to weather the land under our starboard bow, and in this gale embayed, we might not have been able to carry sufficient canvas to work out.” William Thornton, if the weather had permitted, would have felt inclined to stand back, and see what could have become of the corvette, it seemed so strange that they should thus have parted company; but his instructions were, under any circumstances, to make the best of his way to Plymouth, and so, though very unhappy, fearing some accident to the corvette and his little charge, Mabel, thus deserted by him, though far from his intention to do so, he carried on till he made the land out, when he found he was quite correct, as the ranges of rocks he first beheld were the West Penmarks. Having weathered the land, he was able to ease off his tacks, and finally running before the gale, he ran into Plymouth Sound the evening of the second day from parting company with the Babet. Leaving him in safety, we must return to discover what became of the corvette and our little heroine, Mabel Arden, who was greatly grieved when she understood that her young protector being made master of the schooner, the Bon-Citoyen, they would be separated; but Madame Volney consoled her by the assurance that the two vessels would be close alongside one another the rest of the voyage. Although the Babet and her prize had lost sight of each other, owing to the dense fog, both vessels steering the same course, the crews did not expect to be very far asunder when the fog should clear off, and permit them seeing over the water. Now it unfortunately happened, as the wind increased, that the men who went aloft to reef the Babet’s topsail found the fore topmast had been so very badly injured by a ball from the heavy pivot gun of the Bon-Citoyen, that it required fixing and securing before they could attempt to carry sail up it, and whilst this was doing the Babet was kept away a point or two. On a closer examination it was found necessary to shift the spar altogether, and the corvette was then brought on a wind under her fore course, double-reefed main-topsail, and driver; thus, as the schooner sailed two feet for her one, by sunset she was out of hearing of her gun. Captain O’Loughlin felt not at all uneasy, for, unfortunately, he did not consider himself so near the land as he was. Thus, they had scarcely shifted their fore-topmast and got up another, when the man forward called out, in a loud and alarmed voice— “Land on the larboard bow.”