“We hope you’ll think of your promise to us, sir,” said Bramble to the officer, as he was going down.

“Yes, I will, I swear,” replied he, slapping Bramble on the back.

The morning broke, and the weather continued the same; it was not possible to see ten yards clear of the ship, and, of course, in such weather it was not likely that any other vessels would be attempting to pass through the Channel.  At noon it cleared up a little, and the windlass was again manned; but in a short time the fog became thicker than ever.  The Frenchmen now became very impatient, but there was no help for it; they walked about the deck, swearing and stamping, and throwing out invectives against the fog and rain as they looked up at it.  The night closed in; the men were kept on deck until eleven o’clock, when the flood time made, and then they were sent down again, as nothing could be done until the ebb.  At twelve o’clock the weather became worse, the wind freshened considerably, and veered more to the southward, the rain poured down in torrents, and the men of the watch sheltered themselves down the hatchway.  The officer came up on the deck, and called Bramble, who had been down below.  Bramble told him, what was very true, that the wind would probably shift and the weather clear up in a few hours, and that we should be able to weigh with the coming down of the ebb.  He asked Bramble whether he thought it would blow hard.  Bramble could not say, but it would be better that the men should not turn in, as they might be wanted; and that if the fore-topmast staysail was hoisted, she would lie better at her anchor, and in case of parting, he would be able to manage her till sail was set.  This advice was followed, and all the men sat up in the cabin drinking, those who had the watch occasionally coming down to refresh themselves.

They gave us a glass of grog each that night, a proof that they had drunk until they were good-natured.  Bramble said to me, as we sat down outside, “It will be clear to-morrow morning, Tom, that’s sartain—­it must be to-night or never.  I’ve been thinking of lowering the quarter boat down, when they are a little more mizzled; they are getting on pretty fast, for Frenchmen haven’t the heads for drinking that Englishmen have.  Now it pours down beautifully, and here they come down again for shelter.”

For three hours we watched; it was then four o’clock, and the men were most of them asleep or more than half drunk.  Those of the middle watch came down dripping wet, and called the others to relieve them, but only two of them answered to the call.  They who had come down began to drink freely, to warm themselves after their ducking, and by half-past four, except the two men on deck, every Frenchman was either fast asleep or muddled.

“Tom,” said Bramble, “now’s our time.  Slip up on deck, go forward if no one is there, and saw through the cable as quickly as you can; it won’t take long, for it’s a coir rope.  As soon as you have got through two strands out of the three, come aft.”