"Of a d'Avranche--of a d'Avranche!" interposed the Prince.

"We were in no bad way, and my men were ready for another brush with our
enemies, everything being done that could be done, everything in its
place," continued Philip. "When the frigates were a fair gunshot off, I
saw that the squall was overhauling us faster than they. This meant good
fortune if we wished escape, bad luck if we would rather fight. But I
had no time to think of that, for up comes Shoreham, my lieutenant, with
a face all white. 'For God's sake, sir,' says he, 'shoal water-shoal
water! We're ashore.' So much, monsieur le prince, for Admiralty charts
and soundings! It's a hateful thing to see--the light green water, the
deadly sissing of the straight narrow ripple like the grooves of a wash-
board: and a ship's length ahead the water breaking over the reefs, two
frigates behind ready to eat us.

"Up we came to the wind, the sheets were let run, and away flew the
halyards. All to no purpose, for a minute later we came broadside on the
reef, and were gored on a pinnacle of rock. The end wasn't long in
coming. The Araminta lurched off the reef on the swell. We watched our
chance as she rolled, and hove overboard our broadside of long twelve-
pounders. But it was no use. The swishing of the water as it spouted
from the scuppers was a deal louder than the clang of the chain-pumps.
It didn't last long. The gale spilled itself upon us, and the Araminta,
sick and spent, slowly settled down. The last I saw of her"--Philip
raised his voice as though he would hide what he felt behind an
unsentimental loudness--"was the white pennant at the main-top gallant
masthead. A little while, and then I didn't see it, and--and so good-bye
to my first command! Then"--he smiled ironically--"then I was made
prisoner by the French frigates, and have been closely confined ever
since, against every decent principle of warfare. And now here I am,