Soon afterwards all hands were piped on deck, and the sea-sick had to appear as well as the rest. The report had been made to the captain that a man had been knocked overboard, but who was the sufferer was uncertain. The frigate was bravely breasting the foaming billows under close-reefed topsails, ever and anon a hissing sea striking her bows and its crest sweeping across the deck, the spray in dense showers coming right aft, and rendering flushing coats and tarpaulins necessary to those who desired dry skins. Overhead the dark clouds flew rapidly by, showing no abatement of the gale. Far astern was the _Tudor_ with no fore-topsail set, showing that either the mast or yard had been sprung while it was impossible to say what other damage she might have received, if caught unprepared as the frigate had been. The muster-roll was now called over. A third of the crew had answered to their names. "Richard Jenkins" was called. It was the name of a fine young topman. No Richard Jenkins replied; but he must have been aloft at the time the fore-tack parted, and then two other topmen acknowledged that they had been afraid some one had been knocked from the fore-topsail-yard; but the thick darkness, and the wild flapping of the sail, had made them uncertain. The other names were called over. No one answered to that of Daniel Bacon. He was rated as a landsman, and would have been forward at the time. Two, then, in the darkness of night had been cast unnoticed into their ocean grave. "Poor fellows! poor fellows!" uttered by their messmates, was the only requiem they received--the contents of their bags were sold; the purser wrote D against their names, which before the gale was over had ceased to be mentioned. The slight excitement and the fresh air on deck had kept the midshipmen up, but on going below they felt more miserable than ever. Utterly unable to stand they threw themselves on their chests, half wishing that they had gone overboard instead of poor Jenkins and Bacon. More than once they were hove off, but they managed to crawl on again, and cling to the lids in a way sick midshipmen alone could have done. Adair, on going round the lower deck, found them in this condition. "Uncle Terence, dear, when is it all going to be over?" groaned out Gerald. "There's mighty little fun in this same." "Only the ordinary seasoning youngsters have to go through," answered Adair; "however, we'll see what can be done for you."