burst of emotion, "but I'm more
than sorry to have to leave you. You've been a mighty good chum to me,
and as long as I live I'll never forget your kindness. I wish to
goodness you were coming along too."

"So do I, old chap," answered Penryn, gripping his friend's hand; "but
as to `goodness' and `kindness' to you, and all the rest of it--why,
that's all rot, you know. Any man would do the same for his pal."

"Not every man, Dick," returned Murray, soberly. "If you only knew it,
there are not a great many of your sort knocking about nowadays. Good
night, again, old chap."

Frobisher slept well, and was not visited by any dreams, sweet or
otherwise. We are sometimes told that dreams are sent to us as
warnings, as forerunners of events that are to happen to us in the
future; but if this is really true it seems strange that Murray's sleep
should have been so deep and dreamless. For had that young man been
able to foresee but one half of the strange and terrible adventures that
were in store for him, it is scarcely to be doubted that he would, in
spite of his long period of unemployment, have gladly allowed Captain
Drake to take somebody else in his place, notwithstanding the offer of
the forty pounds a month salary, and the thousand-pound bonus at the
successful termination of the venture.

CHAPTER TWO.

EASTWARD HO!

So soundly and dreamlessly did Frobisher sleep that he did not wake
until the clear notes of the dressing bugle--a solemn farce which Dick
insisted upon his servant performing when ashore--had almost finished
ringing through the little cottage.

Punctually at 8 a.m. the old marine who acted as Dick's servant when he
was ashore, and as general housekeeper and caretaker when he was afloat,
sounded the bugle as a signal to his master that it was time to turn
out; and the neighbours in the houses round about--who, by the way,
referred to Penryn as "that very eccentric young man"--had come to look
upon the instrument somewhat in the light of a town clock; so much so
that several of them set their watches by it, and one old gentleman was
in the habit of leaving his front door and sprinting for the
eight-fifteen train to town punctually upon the first note.

Frobisher sat up in bed with a yawn, and was half-way to the bath-room
before he was sufficiently wideawake to recollect that this morning was
different from the three hundred and sixty-five odd preceding mornings.
But as he remembered that