I went up the accommodation ladder
a little chap only about my own age, but looking as "cocksy" as you
please.

He was dressed in a similarly smart new uniform to my own, and his face,
somehow or other, seemed familiar to me. I could see, too, that he
looked as if he recognised me in some sort of way, or was anxious to
make my acquaintance.

"Hullo!" he cried, as I gained the deck and returned, with much
conscious dignity, the marine's salute, "why, you're the fellow who
nearly got stranded in Euclid!"

This remark of his brought back to my mind in an instant the scene in
the examination room on board the gunnery ship, and I identified him in
an instant, giving him a "Roland" for his "Oliver."

"Oh, you're the little chap who was so awfully stumped in spelling at
dictation eh, old fellow?" I retorted, making the marine sentry grin as
the ship's corporal on duty hailed my waterman to pull forward under the
main yard for my chest to be hoisted inboard. "How did you manage to
scramble through, eh?"

"Only by the skin of my teeth," he answered, smiling all over his face
in such a good-humoured way that I could not help taking a liking to
him. "Just the same as you did, I suppose, Mr Sharp!"

"That isn't my name," said I, laughing, "but we won't quarrel about
that. Let us make friends instead."

"Agreed," said he, laughing too. "I liked the cut of your jib when I
first saw you in that awful place the other day. I was so sorry I
couldn't help you with your Euclid."

"Really? Well, I was sorry I couldn't help you with your spelling, you
looked so woe-begone over the big words," I replied, giving him another
dig for his unkind reminiscence of my old nightmare. "I think it was
`Mesopotamia' that finally finished you, wasn't it?"

"Pax!" cried he, beseechingly. "You're a bit too sharp for me, I see,
to try chaffing with. Let us be chums, as you suggest, old boy. My
name is Tom Mills."

"All right, old chap," I rejoined, gripping the hand he stretched out to
me as cordially as he had offered this gage of friendship. "I am Jack
Vernon. That's my name!"

"Well, Jack," said he, addressing me as familiarly as if we had known
each other for years. "You seem a jolly sort of fellow, and I think I
shall like you."

"Ditto, Master Tom," said I, much amused at his hearty frankness of
speech, for I had never come across such a free and easy fellow before.
"You're another--that's all I can say, old chap!"

Thi