"That is true enough," Terence laughed. "Having been brought up in the
regiment, I have learned, at least, that the best thing to do with whisky
is to leave it alone."

"I am afraid you will never be a credit to us, Terence."

"Not in the way of being able to make a heavy night of it and then turn
out as fresh as paint in the morning," Terence retorted; "but you see,
Captain O'Grady, even my abstinence has its advantages, for at least there
will always be one officer in the corps able to go the round of the
sentries at night."

At this moment the vessel gave such a heavy lurch that they were both
thrown off their feet and rolled into the lee-scuppers, while, at the same
moment, a rush of water swept over them. Amidst shouts of laughter from
the other officers the two scrambled to their feet.


[Illustration: TWO FRENCH PRIVATEERS BEAR DOWN UPON THE _SEA-HORSE__]


"Holy Moses!" O'Grady exclaimed, "I am drowned entirely, and I sha'n't get
the taste of the salt water out of me mouth for a week."

"There is one comfort," Terence said; "it might have been worse."

"How could it have been worse?" O'Grady asked, angrily.

"Why, if we hadn't been in the steadiest ship in the whole fleet we might
have been washed overboard."