ay is not
overwhelming, yet, as I have saved a little prize-money, I shall have
enough to keep me till I am placed under the green sward. When I visit
some quiet churchyard, I often think how sweet a resting-place it would
be after having been knocked about all one's life on the stormy ocean,
and after having met with so many disappointments and sorrows."

I do not know what induced Oldershaw to speak to me in that way, for in
truth he was one of the happiest and most contented people on board, so
it seemed to me. While others grumbled and growled he never uttered a
word of complaint in public, but took everything as it came, in the most
good-humoured manner. He was a true friend to me from that time
forward, and gave me many a lesson in wisdom as well as in other
matters, which was of value to me through life. Tom Twigg who was the
only midshipman I knew, received me cordially. There was another young
gentleman, who, though he might have been older, was considerably
smaller than I was. There was a roguish, mischievous look about the
countenance of Dicky Esse, which showed me at once that I must be
prepared for tricks of all sorts from him. Another mate was seated in
the berth, to whom Oldershaw introduced me. His name, I found, was
Pember. He was a broad-shouldered, rough-looking man, with a
suspiciously red countenance and nose, his features marked and scored
with small-pox and his eyelids so swelled, that only a portion of the
inflamed balls could be seen. He uttered a low growl as I entered.

"We have kids enough on board already," he observed. "They will be
sending the nurses with them next."

"Never fear, Pember, he will soon grow out of his kidhood," observed
Oldershaw. "We want young blood to supply the place of us oldsters when
we slip off the stage."

"You mean to be placed over our heads, and to trample us down," said
Pember. "Why there is our skipper. I was a passed midshipman when he
came to sea, and now he is a post-captain, and I am where I was, and
shall be probably to the end of the chapter."

As soon as I could leave the berth I hurried to the boatswain's cabin,
to which Bill King had just then descended. "You do not remember me,
Mr King," said I, shaking him by the hand, "but I recollect you, and
that you were one of my father's oldest shipmates, and my mother's
kindest friend."

"Bless my heart, Ben, is it you?" he exclaimed, for he really had not at
first known me. "Well, I di