he return voyage what
wages are right."

The boy's eyes sparkled with delight. He sprang from his seat, grasped
the captain's hand warmly between his own, and cried,--

"Captain, I'll go with you to the end of the world and back again, wage
or no wage."

"I sail to-morrow," said the other; "shall you be ready?"

"Ready this moment," was the answer. "I have nothing of my own but what
I stand in."

"Come along then with me," said his kind friend; "I'll see you properly
rigged out, and you shall go on board with me at once."

They had not long left the hotel, and were passing along a back street
on their way to the outfitter's, when a man came hastily out of a low
public-house, and ran rather roughly against Captain Merryweather.

"Halloa, my friend," cried the sailor, "have a care; you should keep a
brighter look-out. You've run me down, and might have carried away a
spar or two."

The man looked round, and muttered something.

"I'm sorry to see you coming out of such a place, my man," added the
captain.

"Well, but I'm not drunk," said the other.

"Perhaps not, but you're just on the right tack to get drunk. Come,
tell me what you've had."

"I've only had seventeen pints of ale and three pennorth of gin."

"Is it possible?" exclaimed the captain, half out loud, as the man
walked off with a tolerably steady step. "He says he's not drunk after
taking all that stuff aboard. Jacob, you seem as if you knew something
of him."

"Ay, captain," said Jacob, who had slunk behind the captain when he saw
the man. "I do, for sure; but you must excuse my telling you who he is,
or where he comes from."

"He's not a good friend or companion for any one, I should think," said
the captain.

"He's no friend of mine," answered Jacob; "he's too fond of the drink.
And yet he's called to be a sober man by many, 'cos he brings some of
his wage home on the pay-night. Yet I've heard him say myself how he's
often spent a sovereign in drink between Saturday night and Monday
morning."

"And what do you suppose has brought him here?"

"I can't tell, unless the mayster he works for has sent him over on
count of summat. It's more like, however, as he's come to see his
sister as lives somewhere in these parts."

"And you'd rather he didn't know you are here, I suppose?"

"Just so, captain. There's them, perhaps, as'd be arter me if he were
to tell 'em as he'd see'd me here; but I don't think as he did see me;
he were