who had been holding on to the capstan, off their legs, and the next moment, as she again heeled over to the gale sent them rolling into the lee-scuppers, where they lay sprawling in the mass of water washing across the deck--Gerald striking out with arms and legs under the belief that he was overboard. "Help! help! Heave us a rope. Where is it you are, Tom? Don't be after giving up--swim away," he cried out, as he got his head above the water still rushing round him. Tom was striking out lustily, as Gerald soon discovered by a kick he received from his foot, of which he caught hold, supposing it to be the end of a rope. Tom struggled the more to release himself, having found out that he was safe on deck. "Let go, I say, or I shall never get on my legs," he exclaimed, kicking away with all his might. "Arrah now, I'll be drowned entirely," bawled Gerald, as the water again washed over him. His shouts fortunately at this juncture attracted the attention of Jack, who, setting him and Tom on their legs, told them to go below and turn into their hammocks, as they were not of the slightest use on deck. Drenched to the skin and crest-fallen, after holding on to each other for half a minute and gazing round them at the dark tumultuous billows, they did as they were bid, glad to strip off their wet clothes and endeavour to get between the blankets. "Sure I'm after feeling mighty quare," said Gerald, as he was trying to scramble into his hammock, but it would not remain quiet as it was accustomed to do. "So do I," groaned Tom, "I didn't think anything could upset me, but this is awful." "Faith there's but little fun in it at all at all," cried Gerald, who had succeeded in getting in and covering himself up. "Will we all be drowned, do you think?" "I hope not; my brother Jack seems to consider that there's nothing in it, and of course he's right--oh!" The frigate gave a pitch, which made Tom feel as if he was going to be shot feet foremost along the deck. "Arrah, now, where will we be after going to?" cried Paddy, from his hammock. "Belay the slack of your jaws, youngsters," growled out old Higson, who had just turned in after his watch, and being perfectly indifferent to all the rolling and pitching, and the wild uproar of the elements, wanted to go to sleep. "If you make such a row, my colt and your backs will become acquainted with each other before long." "Why, man alive, it isn't we are making the row, sure it's the wind and the big waves outside the ship," exclaimed Paddy. The midshipmen's small voices were, however, much more disturbing to the old mate than the sounds of the gale. A threatening growl was the only answer he condescended to make, as he had no intention to take the trouble of turning out of his hammock to execute the vengeance he promised.