When Archy came to himself he was lying in a comfortable berth in a cabin on board ship. This much he dimly realized when he waked as if from a long and dreamless sleep. It took him a little while to understand this. At first it seemed quite natural; he thought he was on the old Bon Homme Richard; and when the faint memories of Bellingham Castle and his grandfather and Colonel Baskerville floated into his mind, he thought it was a half-forgotten dream. But by degrees his clouded intelligence grew clear, he remembered everything—the fight in the tavern, the blow that deprived him of consciousness—and, suddenly raising himself in his berth, he began to bawl, "Halloo, there! Halloo!"

A quiet man who had been sitting just outside the cabin door came in at this.

"I wish to be put ashore instantly," said Archy, angrily. "I was carried off by a lot of villains in a press-gang last night, and I demand[Pg 83] to see the captain and to be sent ashore immediately—immediately, do you hear?"

[Pg 83]

The quiet man grinned exasperatingly. "I reckons, sir, 'twill be a good while afore your foot touches dry land. We are now in the Bay of Biscay, latitude 47 degrees, longitude 3 east from Greenwich, as I hearn the sailing-master tell the cap'n just now—and he'd be mighty willin' to oblige you, but I hardly thinks as he'll be able to set you ashore immediate."

"Where am I?" asked Archy, in a dazed way. "What ship is this?"

"This here ship, sir, is the Royal George, flag-ship of Rear-Admiral Digby, Cap'n Fulke, and we are carryin' all the sail that dratted convoy will let us for Gibralty, with the rest o' Sir George Rodney's fleet—good luck to 'em."

It took several minutes for Archy to digest this. He was too staggered by what he had heard to make any further inquiries, but his quiet friend proved communicative enough.

"You're in the sick-bay of the Royal George, sir, and I'm the sick-bay nurse. It seems as how the officers thought as they'd git a good press at the York Assizes. We was layin' off the mouth of the Humber, waitin' for the rest o' the convoy from Ireland, and some o' the men [Pg 84]deserted, though we had left Plymouth o' purpose, as soon as we got our complement, to keep the men aboard. But they got away in spite o' our keepin' a sharp lookout, and the officers, as I say, went to look after some others to fill their places. You took a hand in a scrimmage, sir, in a tavern, and the officers wanted to nab you just to 

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