-out on board the liner, with the storm
behind them and their eyes consequently clear, had seen the boat at the
instant when the collision had become inevitable; and the captain had
promptly rung his engines astern, brought his ship to a standstill, and
lowered his boats in an endeavour to rescue the survivors. But the only
person rescued was the unfortunate Murray himself, and even he was
hauled on board more dead than alive, grieving that it had not been his
lot to share the fate of his crew.

Upon his recovery he was called upon to face a court martial for the
loss of his ship; and--strange were the ways of the Judge-Advocate--was
dismissed that Service which, confronted by a less-harsh officer, he
might have remained to honour. And since that miserable moment the
unhappy man had been living upon his slender savings, endeavouring
meanwhile to obtain employment of any sort that would keep the wolf from
the door.

At the moment when this story opens, Murray Frobisher was down to his
last few sovereigns, and had therefore been unfeignedly glad to accept
the invitation of kind-hearted Dick Penryn, his former comrade-in-arms,
to share the cottage at Kingston where, having no ties of any kind, that
young gentleman was staying during his spell of shore leave. And it was
Murray whom Penryn was momentarily expecting on this stormy, cold, and
dismal evening in March, 1893, just a year after the catastrophe in the
Channel which had ruined his career in the British Navy, and all but
broken his heart.

Dick Penryn had scarcely finished another page of his very fascinating
book when he heard the front door of the cottage open. A furious gust
of wind tore through the little house for a moment, causing even the
occupant of the easy chair to shiver in sympathy with his friend; and
then the door was shut with a slam, and he heard Murray Frobisher's
well-known footsteps ascending the stairs. But there was not the former
light-hearted spring in them. Murray was coming upstairs slowly and
heavily, like a man carrying a ponderous burden, and Dick heaved a sharp
sigh as he murmured to himself, "No luck again to-day, evidently; else
_we_ should have had Murray coming up here full steam ahead. Poor old
boy! I wonder what on earth will happen to him if he doesn't get a
berth soon? A man can't go on like this for ever without losing heart;
and there are already signs that the boy is beginning to lose hope. I
wish to Heaven there w