if he grieved from his inmost heart thereat. "Mr Jones 'as 'ad the
werry last drop, sir."

"We'll send ashore for a cow for you, Master Impudence," put in Mr
Stormcock, ironically, before Tom could say anything. "Just wait a bit
for your breakfast till we can get it off. Dobbs, you know the sort of
cow the young gentleman wants--one with an iron tail!"

"Did I ever tell you that yarn about a cow we had on board the _Duke_,
eh?" observed a tall gentleman with long whiskers, regular "weepers" of
the Dundreary type, who was seated on another locker at the after end of
the gunroom, right opposite to the irascible master's mate. "I mean the
cow old Charley Napier took with him in his flagship when we went up the
Baltic?"

"Good Lord! Jones, don't get your jaw tacks aboard now," cried Mr
Stormcock, as I pricked up my ears on hearing the name of Sir Charles
Napier, Dad's old captain. "We've heard that yarn of yours three times
at least since we started fitting out; and, I'm hanged if it'll stand
telling again!"

"Oh, very well, then," said the whiskered gentleman in a displeased
tone. He wore a plain undress sort of uniform, I noticed, and Dobbs,
the steward, told me he was the paymaster's assistant and kept the
ship's books; though, he messed in the gunroom with all the midshipmen
and cadets, like the master's mate, both of them seeming to my mind far
too old to associate on such a footing with a parcel of boys like
ourselves. "I may as well spare my breath to cool my porridge! I
assure you, Mr Stormcock, I have no wish to bore you."

"Do tell us about the cow, sir," I interposed anxiously, afraid he would
not continue his story. "I have often heard Dad, I mean my father,
speak about Admiral Napier; and, I saw him myself when I was in London
last summer. It was he who got me my nomination for a cadetship."

"Ah, then you know what a queer old customer he is?" went on Mr Jones,
evidently mollified by the interest I took in his yarn. "It isn't much
of a story, as Mr Stormcock appears to think; but, if you care to hear
it, I'll tell you all about it."

"I do care, sir," I replied, "very much indeed, sir."

"Well, then, youngster," he proceeded, "the Baltic fleet was lying at
Spithead, where we mustered, you must know, before sailing up the North
Sea; and one fine day, when we were about to weigh anchor for the Queen
to review us as she passed us in the royal yacht, up comes the dockyard
tug alongside, with `