We left Newton Forster senseless on the pavement leading to the quay at Bristol, floored by a rap on the head from a certain person or persons unknown:  he did not, however, remain there long, being hoisted on the shoulders of two stout fellows, dressed in blue jackets and trousers, with heavy clubs in their hands, and a pistol lying perdu between their waistcoats and shirts.  These nautical personages tumbled him into the stern-sheets of a boat, as if not at all sorry to rid themselves of his weight; and, in a continued state of insensibility, Newton was hoisted up the side of a cutter which lay at anchor about one hundred yards from the shore.

When Newton recovered his senses, his swimming eyes could just enable him to perceive that something flashed upon them, and in their weak state created a painful sensation.  As he became more collected, he discovered that a man was holding a small candle close to them, to ascertain whether the vein which had been opened in his arm had produced the desired effect of restoring him to animation.  Newton tried to recollect where he was, and what had occurred; but the attempted exercise of his mental powers was too much, and again threw him into a state of stupor.  At last he awoke as if from a dream of death, and looking round, found himself lying on the deck attended by a female, who bathed his forehead.

“Where am I?” exclaimed Newton.

“Is it where you are, that you’d want for to know:  an’t ye on board of the Lively cutter, sure? and an’t you between decks in her, and I looking a’ter ye, honey?”

“And who are you?”

“And who am I!  Then, if I’m not somebody else, I’m Judy Malony, the wife of the boatswain’s mate, and a lawful married woman.”

“How did I come here?” continued Newton, raising himself on his elbow.

“You didn’t come at all, honey, you were brought.”

“Who brought me?”

“Who brought ye! it was either the gig or the jolly-boat; but I wasn’t on deck at the time, so I can’t upon my oath say exactly which.”

“Then, pray can you tell me why I was brought here?” replied Newton.

“Sure I can guess, bating you don’t know already.  It was to sarve your king and your country, like a brave volunteer as you are.”

“Then I’m impressed?”

“You may take your Bible oath of it, my jewel, and commit no perjury.  It’s a hard rap that ye got, anyhow; just a hint that ye were wanted:  but plase God, if ye live and do well, ’twill be nothing at all to what ye’ll have by-and-bye, all for the honour and glory of Ould England.”

Newton, who during these remarks was thinking of his father’s situation, and the distress he would suffer without his assistance, and then of the state in which he had left his mother, again sank on the deck.

“Why, he’s off again!” muttered Judy Malony; “he’s no countryman of mine, that’s clear as the mud in the Shannon, or he’d never fuss about a rap with a shillelah;” and Judy, lifting up her petticoats first, gained her feet, and walked away forward.