the
two gentlemen as they walk away, his eyes glowing with gratitude and
sparkling with joy. And no wonder, considering the change in his
situation brought about by their influence. Ten minutes before, his
spirits were at the lowest and darkest. But the prospect of treble, or
quadruple pay on board a snug ship, though it be a trading-vessel, with
the additional chance of being mate instead of foremast-man, has given
him a fillip, not only restoring them to their ordinary condition of
cheeriness, but raising them to the highest exaltation.

The only damper is regret at parting with the fine young fellow who has
done so much for him. But he has passed through that already, when
separating from his ship, and can now better bear it under the
reflection that, though apart from his patron, he will have an
opportunity of doing something to show his gratitude. He knows how much
Crozier is interested in the wellbeing of Carmen Montijo--for Harry has
been made acquainted with her name, as also that of Inez Alvarez--and to
be entrusted with a sort of guardianship over these young ladies is a
proud thought to the ex-man-o'-war's man--a fine feather in his cap.

To carry out the confidence thus reposed in him will be a labour of
love; and he vows in his heart it shall be done, if need be, at the risk
of life.

Indeed, the interview just ended has made a new man of him in more
senses than one; for upon the spot he registers a mental resolve to give
up dram-drinking for ever, or at all events till he has seen his
charge--the two Spanish senoritas--safe landed at Panama, and the
Chilian ship snug in the harbour of Valparaiso. After that, he is less
sure that he may not again go upon a spree, and possibly a big one.

Heaving a sigh as the English officers pass out of sight, he turns back
into the bar-room. It is no longer a question of his going aboard the
_Crusader_. He must remain ashore, to be up betimes in the morning, so
that he may be early at the office of the ship-agent.

And now, again, a shadow, though only a slight one, comes over his
countenance. He has still before him the undetermined question, where
he is to sleep. Notwithstanding his fine prospects for the future, the
present is still unchanged, and yet unprovided for.

Unfortunately, he did not think of this while the officers were with
him, else a word would have made all well. Either of them, he doubted
not, would have relieved his necessities had the