“How long ago is it that you were run down?”

“About five months,” Ralph replied.

“Why, you are not the son of Mrs. Conway of Dover, are you?”

“Yes, I am, sir.  Do you know her, and can you tell me how she is?” Ralph asked eagerly.

“I believe that she is well, although of course she must have suffered very greatly at your disappearance.  I haven’t the pleasure of knowing her personally, but several friends of mine are acquainted with her.  I heard the matter talked about at the time the boat was missing.  Some portions of her were picked up by other fishing boats, and by the shattered state of some of the planks they said that she had been run down; beside, there had been no wind about the time she disappeared, so that there was little doubt some vessel or other had cut her down.  I happened to hear of it from Colonel Bryant, who is a friend of your mother.”

“Yes, I know him,” Ralph put in.

“I have heard Colonel Bryant say that she has not altogether abandoned hope, and still clings to the idea that you may have been run down by some outward-bound ship and that you had been saved and carried away, and that she declares that she shall not give up all hope until ample time has elapsed for a ship to make the voyage to India and return.”

“I am very glad of that,” Ralph said.  “It has been a great trouble to me that she would be thinking all this time that I was dead.  I should not have minded having been carried away so much if I had had a chance of writing to her to tell her about it; but I never did have a chance, for I came home by the very first ship that left Port Royal after I arrived there.”

“But how did you get away from the French privateer—­was she captured?”

“Well, it is rather a long story, sir,” Ralph said modestly.

“All the better,” the gentleman replied.  “We have got fourteen hours journey before us, and your story will help pass the time; so don’t try to cut it short, but let me have it in full.”  Ralph thereupon told the story, which lasted until the coach reached Tunbridge, where it stopped for the passengers to dine.

“Well, that is an adventure worth going through,” the officer, who had already mentioned that his name was Major Barlow, said; “and it was well for you, lad, that you possessed good spirits and courage.  A man who is cheerful and willing under difficulties will always make his way in the world, while one who repines and kicks against his fate only makes it harder for him.  I have no doubt that if, instead of taking matters coolly when you found yourself on board the privateer you had fretted and grumbled, you would have been made a drudge and kicked and cuffed by everyone on board.  You would not have had a chance of landing at that island or of being chosen to make the signal when they went away, and you would now be leading the life of a dog on board that brig.  Cheerful and willing are two of the great watchwords of success in life, and certainly you have found it so.”