"But, you had better not talk now.

Wait till after you've taken some nice soup which I've got cooking here that will put new strength into you, and then we'll tell each other all about ourselves." He then left Bob to attend to Dick, whom it took considerably longer to bring round; although by administering a few drops of brandy at intervals, varied by an occasional spoonful every now and then of the savoury soup from the saucepan on the fire, which was really a regular French stew, Dick became ultimately, as Bob already was through the same regimen, much better--the poor boy now recovering his consciousness and being able to speak.
The two invalids were then put to bed comfortably in a couple of bunks on either side of the fo'c's'le; while the lugger, whose name, by the way, was the _Jeanne d'Arc_, reached over towards the English coast, to see what fishing she could get in those prohibited waters.
Late in the afternoon, Bob and Dick both woke up refreshed; when, each had another jorum of the savoury soup, which Bob said subsequently was the nicest thing, he believed, he had ever tasted in his life! The boys, then, feeling quite well, so to speak, went on to tell the kind sailors all about their adventures, Bob, of course, being the principal spokesman.
"Ah!" observed Jacques.

"You are living at Portsmouth, then ?" "No, I've only been stopping there for the season," replied Bob.

"But, I like it very much!" "It's my native place, sir.

I was born there!" cried Jacques.