The only possible plan of escape that suggested itself to Charles Bramble, under the circumstances, was to place a few necessary articles of clothing in a small package, and confine it to the back of his neck, while he should divest himself of all garments, slip quietly into the water on the seaward side of the ship, where none of the sentries were immediately placed, the object being to guard the access to the shore more especially.  Once in the water he had only to strike out quietly for the shore, trusting the dullness of the sentries and the favoring darkness of the night to enable him to reach the land unobserved.

He had the most to fear from the sentry placed on the top-gallant forecastle of the ship, as that post was so near to his line of passage.  He would have to swim around the bows far enough out to clear the land tackle, and when he got on an even line with the ship’s bows, this sentry, if he happened to be on the lookout at the moment, could hardly fail to see him on the surface of the water.  To obviate this difficulty, Leonard Hust, who was a sort of privileged person on board, being the captain’s confidential servant and man of all work, undertook to engage the sentry’s attention by sonic device, for a few moments, just at the opportune period, while the prisoner should get fairly clear of the ship.

“See here, Bill,” said Leonard Hust, carelessly, as he emerged from the fore hatch; “look ye, old boy, I have had such a dream, hang me if I can sleep a wink.”

“What’s that to me?” growled the sentry, morosely, and not much more than half awake.

“Why, if you knew what it was I dreamed, you would think it was something to you,” continued the other, with assumed mystery and seriousness.

“Look ye, Leonard Hust,” said the marine, “do you know you arc talking to a sentry on duty, and that it’s clearly against the rules of the ship to do so?”

“Why, as to the matter of that, I don’t see hut that you are as much to blame as I am,” continued the other; “but who is there to peach on either of us?”

“That’s true,” added the marine, bringing the butt of his musket lightly to the deck; “but for all that, Leonard, it’s dangerous business, for you see if—­hallo! what’s that?”

“Nothing; nothing but me drawing this cork,” said the other, quickly producing a small bottle of brandy from his pocket, and urging the marine to drink.

The temptation was too great, and the sleepy and tired sentinel drank a heavy draught of the liquor, smacking his lips, and forgetting the sound he had just heard, and which Leonard Hust very well knew was caused by the prisoner’s descent a little too quickly into the water, alongside the ship.

“Now, Bill, what do you think I did dream?” continued the captain’s man.

“Bother it, how can I tell?” answered the marine.  “Let it out if it’s worth telling.”

“Why, do you see, Bill, I kept tossing and turning uncomfortable-like for an hour or so, until finally I thought I saw you, with your face as black as the ace of spades, and your body dangling by the neck from the main yard-arm of the ship, a dead man!”