“Do stay with us, Mr Forster; pray, don’t go,” cried they both.

“I must, indeed, ladies; you are perfectly safe here.”

“For God’s sake, don’t you go away, Mr Forster!” cried Laura, falling on her knees.  “I shall die of fright.—­You sha’n’t go!” screamed Laura, as the two sisters clung on to the skirts of his jacket, and effectually prevented his escape, unless, like the patriarch, he had left his garment behind.

Newton cast an appealing glance at Isabel, who immediately interfered,—­“Charlotte, for shame! you are preventing Mr Forster from going to his duty.  My dear Laura, do not be so foolish; Mr Forster can be of no service to us:  but he will be on deck.  Let go, Laura.”

Newton was released.  “I am much obliged to you, Miss Isabel,” said Newton, with his foot on the ladder; “but I have no time now to express my thanks—­not to be on deck—­”

“I know it, Mr Forster:  go up, I beseech you; do not wait a moment:”  and Newton sprang up the ladder; but not before he had exchanged with Isabel a glance which, had he been deficient in courage, would have nerved him for the approaching combat.  We must leave the ladies with Mr Ferguson (who had no pleasant office), while we follow Newton on deck.  The stranger had borne down with studding-sails, until within three miles of the Indiamen, when she rounded to.  She then kept away a little, to close nearer, evidently examining the force opposed to her.  The Indiamen had formed the line of battle in close order, the private signal between English men-of-war and East India ships flying at their mast-heads.

“Extremely strange, that she does not answer the private signal,” said the colonel to the second mate.

“Not at all, if she don’t know how.”

“You are convinced, then, that she is a French frigate?”

“No, not positive; but I’ll bet you ten to one she is:—­bet off if either of us are killed, of course!”

“Thanky; I never bet,” answered the colonel, turning away.

“What do you think of her, Mr Mathews?” said Captain Drawlock to the first mate, who had his eye on the ship.

“She is English built and English rigged, sir, that I’ll swear; look at her lower yard-arms, the squaring of her topsails.  She may be French now, but the oak in her timbers grew in Old England.”

“I agree with you,” said Newton:  “look at the rake of her stern; she is English all over.”

“Then, why don’t she answer the private signal?” said Captain Drawlock.

“She’s right in the wind’s eye of us, sir, and our flags are blowing end on from her.”

“There goes up her bunting, sir,” cried the first mate.

“English, as I said.  The commodore is answering, sir.  Up with the ensign there abaft.  All’s right, tell the ladies.”

“I will; I’ll go and inform them,” said the colonel; who immediately descended to impart the joyful intelligence.