the big bell of woolwich dockyard had just commenced its deafening announcement that "dinner time" had arrived, producing at its first boom, a change from activity to rest in every department of that vast establishment.

burly convicts, resembling in their brown striped suits human zebras, upon hearing the clang, immediately threw down their burdens, and, followed by the severe-looking pensioners who acted as their guards, sauntered carelessly towards the riverside, where they knew boats waited to convey them on board the hulks. as these scowling outcasts drifted along, they here and there passed parties of perspiring sailors still toiling under the direction of some petty officer; noticing which, the convicted ones would grin and nudge each other, glad to find that while they could cease their labour at the first stroke of the bell, there were free men who dared not even think of relaxing their hands until ordered to do so by their superiors; and many of the rogues turned their forbidden quids, and thanked their stars that they were convicted felons, and not men-of-wars's men.

in the smithies, at the first welcome stroke of the bell, hammers, which were then poised in the air, were dropped with a gentle thud upon the fine iron scales with which the floor was covered; the smiths, like all other artisans, having the greatest disinclination to work for the government one second beyond the time for which they were paid. the engines kept up their din a few moments after all other sounds had ceased, but finding themselves deserted gave it up, and, judging by the way they jerked the vapour from their steam pipes, appeared to be taking a quiet smoke on their own account.

from forge, workshop, factory, mast-pond, saw-mill, store, and building shed—from under huge ships propped up in dry-dock, or towering grandly on their slips,—from lofty tops and dark holds,—out of boat and lighter,—from every nook and corner swarmed mechanics and labourers,—all these uniting in one eager mob, elbowed and jostled their way towards the gate, like boys leaving school.

the dockyard was bounded by a high wall upon the side nearest the town, whilst its river frontage was guarded by sentries, who not only protected the queen's property, but prevented her jolly tars from taking boat in a manner not allowed upon her majesty's service.

[pg 2]

the doors of the great gate were thrown wide open, and the crowd poured through as if quite ignoring the presence of a number of detectives, who were posted near it, to prevent deserters from the ships of war from passing out with the workpeople; special precaution being taken at that time, as the country required every sailor she could muster, to man the ships then being fitted out for service against the russians.

when the rush was at its height a sailor disguised in the sooty garb of a smith emerged from behind a stack of timber, piled near the main entrance, and joining a party of workmen, who evidently recognized him, was forced on with them towards the gate, the man walking as unconcernedly as any ordinary labourer. as they neared the detectives the attention of the latter was suddenly distracted by the noise of a passing circus procession, and for a moment the officials were off their guard.

"keep your face this way, mate, and look careless at the peelers," whispered one of the party to the deserter, and the man so warned did as he was directed, although he scarcely breathed as he brushed by them, the very buttons on their uniforms seeming to spy him out, and to raise a fear in his breast that he would find a hand rudely laid upon his collar, and hear the words, "you're a prisoner?" however, they did not even look at him, and in another moment he found himself free.

the deserter was an able seaman named tom clare, a sober, excellent sailor, and the devoted husband of a worthy girl to whom he had been but a few weeks united. tom had not long before arrived home from the china station in h. m. s. porpoise, and finding some property bequeathed to him, had applied to the admiralty for his discharge, but his application was refused; and although he offered to provide one or more substitutes, his petition was returned to him, with orders to proceed at once to the ship to which he had been drafted, under penalty of being arrested as a deserter. tom found, to his sorrow, there was no alternative. if he stayed, the authorities would at once arrest him, as they were notified of his whereabouts. he knew england had just entered upon a tremendous struggle with russia; so, hoping it would soon be over, and the demand for seamen decrease, he determined to face his misery, and proceed to woolwich to join the stinger, that ship being rapidly fitted out for foreign service.

as it was customary to allow the men leave to go on shore at least twice a week, clare was accompanied to the port by his wife, his only request being that she should never attempt to visit him on board his ship, to which she reluctantly agreed, but thought it very hard that her husband should make such a stipulation. leaving her in respectable lodgings, he walked down to the docks, was directed to his ship, and in a few moments found himself before the first lieutenant. this officer, by name howard crushe, was a tall cadaverous-looking man, with a face upon which meanness and cruelty were plainly depicted. clare knew him at once, crushe having been the second lieutenant of his last ship, and as such having twice endeavoured to get him flogged.

"come on board to jine, if you please, sir," said the seaman.

"oh! that's you, mr. clare, is it?" sneered this ornament of the navy.

"yes, sir," replied tom, putting a cheerful face on it, and endeavouring to appear rather pleased than otherwise to see his old officer.

"do you remember i promised you four dozen when you sailed with me in the porpoise, eh? well, my fine fellow, mind your p's and q's, or you'll find i shall keep my word. i remember! you're the brute who objected to my kicking a whelp of a boy. all right! i'm glad you have been drafted to my ship, as i can make it a little heaven for you."

clare remembered the circumstance to which crushe alluded, he having once[pg 3] interfered to save a poor boy from brutal treatment at the hands of that officer, and now he was in his power he knew he was a marked man.

the lieutenant called for mr. shever, the boatswain, and told him to put the sailor in the starboard-watch, at the same time privately informing that warrant officer of his dislike to the man.

"leave him to me, sir. i knows him. he is a werry good man, but has them high-flown notions," was the reply of the boatswain.

tom was taken forward and put to work; and when the dinner pipe went, proceeded on board the receiving hulk with the rest of the stinger's, having fully made up his mind to be civil, and do his duty, in spite of the depressing aspect of the future. "perhaps he'll not try and flake me, arter all," he thought. "if i does my best and don't answer him sassy, he can't be such a cold-blooded monster as to do what he ses. i suppose he only wanted to frighten me." as the sailor pondered over this, his face showed that although he endeavoured to argue himself into the belief that all would come right, still his mind was filled with alarm at the prospect before him.

the stinger was, according to the navy-list, commanded by captain puffeigh, a short, fat, vulgar, fussy little man; but in reality crushe, who had married the captain's niece, had sole control of the ship, puffeigh merely coming on board once a week, and staying just long enough to throw the first lieutenant's plans into confusion. the crew knew there was a captain belonging to the ship, but probably not two of their number could tell who he was. crushe was the officer they looked to, and all of them soon found out that he was a tartar. his first act of despotism towards clare was to stop his leave to go on shore; and this he did on the day the man joined the ship.

"please, sir, do let me go ashore to see my wife," pleaded the sailor.

"let your fancy come off with the other girls," was the lieutenant's brutal rejoinder.

tom bit his lips, and turned away disgusted and almost mad, knowing it would not do to show what he felt. he thought, "of course the lieutenant imagines all women who have anything to do with sailors are bad; he don't know how good she is. i wish i could have him face to face on shore, i'd cram them ere words down his lean throat, i would."

tom's leave had been stopped for over a fortnight, and all his appeals met with insults from crushe, when one morning, the crew having been transferred from the hulk to the stinger, captain puffeigh visited the ship; and after a superficial survey, desired the first lieutenant to muster the men, observing, "i think it's time they should know who i am." the fact was, he began to be a little jealous of his lieutenant's power, and thought it best to show his authority.

after much piping and shouting on the part of shever and his mates, the men were mustered upon the quarter-deck, and they certainly were "a motley crew." there was the usual proportion of petty-officers, all old men-of-war's men; able seamen, principally volunteers from the merchant service; ordinary seamen, mostly outcasts driven by dire necessity to join the navy; and first and second class boys. the latter were, with a few exceptions, workhouse-bred, and imagined themselves in clover. they served their country by doing all the dirty work of the ship from 4 a.m. until 6 p.m., after which time, until piped to rest, the lads amused themselves by learning to drink and smoke, or by listening to the intellectual conversation and songs of the gentlemanly outcasts before mentioned. men like clare felt rather disgusted upon finding themselves ranked with such fellows; although had this collection of human beings been under the guidance of a humane commander and first lieutenant, they might after a time[pg 4] have been moulded into a good crew. of course they were a rough lot, as the queen's service offered, at that time, but few inducements to decent sailors.

puffeigh walked up and down the line, scanning the faces of the men with anything but a pleasant expression upon his countenance. he picked out the sailors at a glance, and spoke to them, asking the usual question, were they satisfied with their ship? when he came to clare he stopped for a moment, and observed to crushe, "what a fine fellow that is!"

"one of the worst characters in the fleet," replied the first lieutenant.

however, the captain questioned him as he had done the others, upon which tom briefly and respectfully asked the commander for permission to go on shore, like the rest of the men.

"speak to lieutenant crushe about that. i leave those things to him entirely."

tom was about to reply that he had done so, when the captain cut him short with, "there, my man, discipline must be maintained," and then gave the order to "pipe down."

the dignified puffeigh strutted aft, and lieutenant crushe, calling clare to him, said, between his teeth, "you sweep! i'll keep my word with you as soon as we get into blue water."

tom knew full well what that meant: he was to be flogged; so he determined to desert, and get out of the country. his country required his services, but no man could stand such treatment. his mind was made up, and he wrote to his wife as follows:

"h. m. stinger, woolwich doc-yard, 12 october, ——

"dear polly,

"come aborde at dinner time on sunday. mind you are not laite.

"your loving husband,

"tom clare."

his wife had not seen him since the day he joined the ship, although she had several times been tempted to go on board; but remembering his earnest wish, was obliged to content herself with the letters he sent her; and the poor fellow often went without a meal in order to find time to write her a line. he could not bear to have his fair young wife herded upon the wharf with the degraded creatures who daily swarmed down to the ship, but come she must now, as it was the only chance by which he could escape from his hateful bondage.

on the appointed day polly went down, and was one of the first to be passed on board by the ship's-corporal. tom's lips quivered as he saw her descend the gangway ladder, and soon he was by her side. there was no loud demonstration, but the fervent pressure of their hands showed how happy they were to meet again, even in that place. by a fortunate accident, the boatswain was absent, and his cabin left in charge of a good-natured a. b., by name jerry thompson.

when polly was descending the main hatchway ladder, jerry, who knew all about crushe's behaviour towards clare, stepped forward, saying, "this way, mum," and, to the delight of the couple, they were shown into mr. shever's cabin, and thus enabled to have four hours' uninterrupted chat; the sailor going off, after placing before them his own dinner and allowance of grog. jerry had a susceptible heart, and would do any thing to serve a woman.

tom rapidly ran over his reasons for attempting to escape, and you may be sure polly agreed and sympathized with him in everything.

"what a shame," she exclaimed, "to keep you on board, when even the boys get as much leave as they choose to ask for!"

[pg 5]

"never mind, my dear," he replied. "i'll not ask 'em for leave this day week, if all goes well."

polly left the ship in good spirits, and was gallantly escorted to the dock-gates by the kind-hearted a. b., who said to her on parting,

"mum, if ever tom wants a friend, i'll do my best for him, for the sake of his wife. you see, mum, i'm not a married man myself, but i can feel for them as is."

"god bless you, sir, for your kindness," sobbed polly.

"jerry, mum, not sir; we ain't allowed that rate in a man-o'-war."

polly laughed through her tears, and nodding to the sailor, passed quickly through the turnstile, and was soon out of sight.

before the week was over she had made all the arrangements for her husband's flight; having smuggled off a complete suit of well-worn smith's clothes, and paid the men from whom she obtained them a sum of money to assist tom in getting through the gate.

as we have described, clare played his part well, and passed the detectives without the slightest suspicion on their part that a deserter had escaped before their eyes.

on leaving the men who had assisted him, clare turned to the left, keeping with the crowd as much as possible. all along the foot of the wall were crouched anxious wives and children, waiting with "father's dinner," in order to save him a long walk. many of these watchers peered into his face, and some of the little ones would clap their hands and cry, "here's daddy!"

tom walked on for a few moments, hardly able to realize he was free, when suddenly polly, who had followed him from the dock-gate, caught him by the arm.

"for heaven's sake, polly, don't draw notice on me; walk on ahead, dear, i'll follow you; but don't look behind you, unless you would have me took."

poor tom! the loving taunt of that speech was understood by his wife. she have him taken! why, he knew the poor girl would die for him.

away she walked, quite in a different direction from that of her old lodgings; up one street and down another, until they were fairly out in the country, she praying all the time that her love might never be retaken, and thanking god her husband was now free. the footfall behind her was delightful music; while he, devouring her with his eyes, and longing once more to clasp her to his heart, thanked heaven in his own rough sailor style.

"am i dreaming?" he muttered. "no, there she is, the beauty—there she is—thank the good god who guards her always—i am awake—it's real—i ain't asleep."

he imagined that walk the longest he had ever taken.

"will she never bring to?" he thought.

at last she stopped before a neat cottage, and lifting the latch, darted in. her husband was not long after her, and she was soon clasped in his arms.

"polly, dear heart! wife! look at me!" he almost sobbed as he tenderly pressed her to his heart. "bear up, my pretty one! i'm here, and all safe, and never going away again."

but the poor girl was too happy to reply, and a flood of tears gave relief to her feelings, ere she was composed enough to talk about his plans of escape. when her agitation had somewhat abated, polly produced a suit of farmer's clothes; and after tom had shaved off his whiskers, she cut the curly locks from his head, although it very much grieved her to do so. when the process was complete, she called in her father and mother, who had come up from kingsdown to assist their girl in her[pg 6] trouble. clare had taken a seat by the fire, and his disguise was so complete, that the good old people could not, until he spoke to them, make out who he was.

"that beant you, tom, be it?"

"yes, it's me, father."

"why, you do puzzle me. i don't know you a bit. you looks like the young squire."

many were the congratulations which passed between them, and when the old fisherman handed tom a passage ticket for himself and polly, by which clare found he could leave liverpool for new york on the following wednesday, he caught the old man in his arms and fairly hugged him.

it was settled they should leave the house about six o'clock p.m., and as the police were sure to be on the alert, a cart was procured in which they were to be conveyed to london, it being arranged that a brother of their kind hostess was to act as driver, while tom and polly were to lie down in the straw until they arrived in the big city. once there, they might walk to the railway station. if all went well they would reach liverpool the next day, where they could remain unmolested, until the ship sailed for america.

"come, tom," said the old woman, "you must be hungry, lad. i warrant you, a bit of meat and a drop o' beer won't come amiss," upon which she bustled about; and, with the assistance of polly, a meal was prepared and placed upon the table.

tom sat by the window, keenly watching the few stragglers who passed by, when suddenly he started back and turned pale, as a corporal of marines walked up, looked suspiciously at the cottage, and then crossing the road, questioned an old fellow, who was breaking stones.

clare could not make out what he said, but imagined from the motions of the corporal that he was inquiring who lived in the cottage. tom called polly and told her his suspicion,—it was a moment of great anxiety for both of them. at length, however, the corporal turned upon his heel, and retraced his steps down the lane. their landlady was sent for; and as the good creature knew all about her lodgers' plans, they freely imparted their fears to her, begging she would call the old stone-breaker in-doors, and ascertain what questions the petty officer had put to him, tom and his wife retreating to the stairs, where they overheard the following conversation:

"i say, master, who was that speaking to ye this minute?"

"don't know, missis; but i expects he be a perlice."

"what did he say to you, master?"

"'well,' he says to me, ses he, 'do you know,' he ses, 'who lives over there?' he ses; that's what he ses to me, missis, as near as i can recollect."

"what did you tell him?"

"why, i says, ses i, 'look here! what do you want to know for?' i says."

"well, go on, go on! what else did he ask you?"

"'well,' ses he, 'have you seen any one go in there this morning,' he ses. 'yes!' ses i. 'who?' he ses. 'well,' ses i, 'i seed missis drake,' i ses, 'and her lodger,' i ses, 'and a man,' i ses."

"you old foo—! excuse me, master noyce, but you did not see no man come in but my lodger. there, go away! you allus was a stupid, and i'm sure of it now."

"come, missis! i don't want no blowin' up. you axed me civil, and i gave you an answer," retorted the old man, turning sulkily away.

"yes! you ses, and you ses, and you've been and gone and done it, you wooden-headed old post!" whimpered the good-natured woman, after she had closed the door[pg 7] upon him. "you've done it this time, you donkey!" whereupon she sat down in a chair, and had a good cry.

tom and his wife came out of their place of concealment, and begged she would not take on so, as it was no fault of hers that the man had given the information; but the kind creature was with difficulty assured "it might all turn out to be nothing." she felt that, after all the poor fellow's trouble, he would be captured and flogged, and their arguments only increased her sympathy for the unfortunate couple. however, the afternoon passed away with no more signs of the corporal, and by six o'clock everything was in readiness. the old folks had embraced their girl, and poor tom was leading her out, when suddenly a party of marines rushed into the house, and the corporal in charge laid hands on clare, and told him he was his prisoner.

polly clung to her husband's arm, not fully realizing the dreadful truth; but soon she saw all, and that tom was about to be torn from her. rushing between the corporal and her husband, and endeavouring to force him from the former's grasp, she raved like a mad woman.

"you dare touch him! take your hands away, you wretch! do you hear? leave go!"

clare was about to speak to her, when the corporal said with a sneer, "pull that thing away, and gag her if she gives any more of her talk. she need not make such a fuss; she'll soon find another feller."

these words had hardly passed his lips before tom had the speaker down upon the floor, with both his hands tightly clutching the soldier's windpipe.

"you brute, i'll kill you!" he yelled. and he seemed likely to carry out his threat. however, the marines threw themselves upon the deserter, who, after a desperate struggle, was beaten senseless, handcuffed, and dragged away.

when the old fisherman, his wife's father, saw how brutally they ill-treated tom, he seized a stick and endeavoured to assist him, but was overpowered and beaten, until he, too, lay like a dead man, the corporal encouraging his men "to pitch into the old scoundrel."

polly and her mother were happily unconscious of the last part of the outrage, both having fainted when clare seized upon the soldier. some neighbours, aroused by the screams of their landlady, came to the assistance of the women, who after a short time were restored to their senses.

when polly became somewhat composed, she asked for her husband.

"where is my love? where is my brave, handsome husband? gone? have those wretches taken him? you coward, father, to let them take my tom! o god! they'll flog him! i can't bear it! let me go! i shall go mad!"

and the poor girl had fit after fit, until they feared she would die of exhaustion. the heart-broken old people watched her through the night, thinking and almost praying that death would come to her relief.

the prisoner was conveyed on board his ship, and taken aft upon the quarter-deck, where he was reported to the officer of the watch, a mate named cravan, derisively called by the midshipman "nosey," and that officer being a creature of the first lieutenant's, took upon himself to reprimand the man.

"so you have caught him, eh?"

"yes, sir," replied the corporal with a military flourish, "but we had no end of trouble. he were in a low den outside the town, along with a lot of vimen, and ven i arrested him, he werry nigh killed me."

"i were with my wife, sir," pleaded the prisoner.

[pg 8]

"your wife, of course! any trollop is your wife. it is a very convenient relationship," sneered the bully.

roused by this coarse speech, and not caring for consequences, clare raised his manacled hands, and dealt the brutal speaker a blow between the eyes, which stretched him upon the deck. the sailor was about following up the attack, but was prevented by the marines, who after a desperate struggle secured him, and stopped further violence on his part.

"put him in irons!" yelled cravan, rising to his feet. "and," added he, as the prisoner was dragged from his presence, "you hound! your woman will bring you to the gratings yet!"

clare was taken below, heavily ironed, and thrown into the ship's prison. there, bruised in body and sick at heart, he watched away the weary night. he almost regretted he had not killed the mate. no doubt this was wrong and horrible; but we must remember he had been driven nearly mad, and knew full well the punishment for the attack upon cravan would be death—or a worse fate to a man of feeling—a flogging.

once during the night he was visited by a midshipman who evidently pitied him. tom's wrists were raw and bleeding, so the youngster tore up his handkerchief, and bound it round the handcuffs, the sentry who accompanied the officer holding the light, and laughing to himself all the time to think any one could be so "soft." james ryan—this was the middy's name—was a warm-hearted irish lad, and would never allow a man to be treated like a dog, if he had power to prevent it. clare did not say anything when the boy had completed his task of mercy; in fact, it was almost impossible for him to speak, so overcome was he by the kindness. when the door was closed upon him, he heard the sentry say, with a chuckle,

"didn't seem to thank ye for it much, sir?"

"perhaps he felt all the more," replied the generous boy. this was true, as tom thanked him in his heart.

few who do not know the service can understand the goodness of the middy, who was laughed at for weeks afterwards for his act of mercy. if any one lost his handkerchief, he was directed to ryan for it, with the remark that "possibly he had given it to some deserter."

mr. cravan submitted his bruises to the inspection of a sympathizing assistant-surgeon, and then went to bed, or, as sailors term it, "turned in," determined to be revenged on the man who had so violently attacked him. "he's safe for four dozen, anyhow," he murmured, as he arranged the bandage over his aching eyes, "and it will do the brute good."

the next day he received the condolence of puffeigh and crushe; but lieutenant ford and the rest of the ward-room officers did not conceal the disgust they felt at his behaviour, and he also found himself cut by many of his mess-mates in the gun-room.

a few evenings after this he went to a ball, and as only one or two of those present knew the facts of the case, he received many sympathizing inquiries. the poor fellow who had so nearly been killed by a brute of a deserter was an object of great attention to many present, and "nosey" cravan for once experienced little difficulty in obtaining partners. he was, however, not a little piqued by the reply of the belle of the evening, to his request to honour him with her hand for the next waltz. bending towards him, and smiling as if she were conveying a complimentary reply, she whispered, "no, sir, i cannot dance with such a hero."

this young lady was a cousin of lieutenant ford's, and had heard from her relation that mr. cravan had grossly insulted the man who attacked him; therefore, when[pg 9] elated with his success among the ladies, the mate ventured to solicit her as a partner, she quietly put him down.

"she never can mean to snub me because i spoke rather roughly to the fellow. well, i suppose ford has told them his version of the affair. she's a deuced peculiar sort of a girl, and probably thinks the man ought not to be flogged for his infernal conduct, and has romantic ideas that the fellow has feelings like ours," thought cravan. he, however, wandered into the supper-room, and finding a vacant place, was soon too far gone in champagne to trouble himself what people thought of him, under any circumstances whatever.