“Heyday, Master Cringle, you are surely out of your watch.  Why, what are you doing here, eh?”

I stepped up to him, and told him the truth, that, being overfatigued, I had fallen asleep in the top.

“Well, well, boy,” said he, “never mind, go below, and turn in; if you don’t take your rest, you never will be a sailor.”

“But what do you see aloft?” glancing his eye upwards, and all the crew on deck, as I passed them, looked anxiously up also amongst the rigging, as if wondering what I saw there, for I had been so chilled in my snoose, that my neck, from resting in the cold on the coil of rope, had become stiffened and rigid to an intolerable degree; and although, when I first came on deck, I had, by a strong exertion, brought my caput to its proper bearings, yet the moment I was dismissed by my superior officer, I for my own comfort was glad to conform to the contraction of the muscle, whereby I once more strayed along the deck, glowering up into the heavens, as if I had seen some wonderful sight there.

“What do you see aloft?” repeated Mr. Treenail, while the crew, greatly puzzled, continued to follow my eyes, as they thought, and to stare up into the rigging.

“Why, sir, I have thereby got a stiff neck—­that’s all, sir.”

“Go and turn in at once, my good boy—­make haste, now; tell our steward to give you a glass of hot grog, and mind your hand that you don’t get sick.”

I did as was desired, swallowed the grog, and turned in; but I could not have been in bed above an hour, when the drum beat to quarters, and I had once more to bundle out on the cold wet deck, where I found all excitement.  At the time I speak of, we had been beaten by the Americans in several actions of single ships, and our discipline improved in proportion as we came to learn, by sad experience, that the enemy was not to be undervalued.  I found that there was a ship in sight, right ahead of us—­apparently carrying all sail.  A group of officers were on the forecastle with night-glasses, the whole crew being stationed in dark clusters round the guns at quarters.  Several of the American skippers were forward amongst us, and they were of opinion that the chase was a man-of-war, although our own people seemed to doubt this.  One of the skippers insisted that she was the Hornet, from the unusual shortness of her lower masts, and the immense squareness of her yards.  But the puzzle was, if it were the Hornet, why she did not shorten sail.  Still this might be accounted for, by her either wishing to make out what we were before she engaged us, or she might be clearing for action.  At this moment a whole cloud of studdingsails were blown from the yards as if the booms had been carrots; and to prove that the chase was keeping a bright look-out, she immediately kept away, and finally bore up dead before the wind, under the impression, no doubt, that she would draw ahead of us, from her gear being entire, before we could rig out our light sails again.