f his palpitating heart.

But his trials were not quite over. As he was running headlong round
the corner of High Street, determined that no pretext should detain him
a moment longer than necessary in this perilous territory, he found
himself, to his horror, suddenly confronted with the form of the very
British seaman whom, of all others, he hoped to avoid; and, before he
could slacken speed or fetch a compass, he had plunged full into Tom
White's arms.

Tom White, as usual, I am sorry to say, was half-seas-over. Never
steady in his best days, he had, ever since the loss of the _Martha_
made his headquarters at the bar of the "Dolphin." Not that the loss of
the _Martha_ was exactly ruin to her late owner. On the contrary, since
her disappearance, Tom had had more pocket-money than ever he had when
she was his.

For sympathetic neighbours, pitying his loss, had contributed trifles
towards his solace; the Templeton boys, with many of whom he had been a
favourite, had tipped him handsomely in his distress, and it was even
rumoured that half of a collection for the poor at the parish church a
few Sundays ago had been awarded to poor destitute Tom White.

On the whole, Tom felt that if he could lose a _Martha_ twice a year, he
might yet sup off tripe and gin-toddy seven times a week.

The "Dolphin" became his banker, and took very particular care of his
money.

All this the boy, of course, did not know. All he knew was that the
waistcoat into which he had run belonged to the man he had wronged, who,
if he only suspected his wronger, could make the coming summer holidays
decidedly tedious for Georgie and his friend.

"Belay there!" hiccupped Tom, reeling back from the collision and
catching Heathcote by the arm. "Got yer, young gem'n! and I'll bash
yer!"

"I beg your pardon," said Georgie, terribly scared, and seeing already,
in his mind's eye, the narrowest cell of the county jail.

Tom blinked at him stupidly, holding him at arm's length and cruising
round him.

"Bust me if it ain't a schollard!" said he. "What cheer, my hearty?
Don't forget, the poor mariner that's lost his _Martha_. It's very 'ard
on a honest Jack tar."

How Heathcote's soul went out to the poor British seaman as soon as he
discovered that he did not recognise him! He gave him his all--two
shillings and one penny--and deemed it a mite to offer to so deserving a
cause. He hoped from his heart Tom would find his boat, or, if not,
wo