g, a
poor wanderer with only the prospect of an income at his mother's death,
and without professional practice; and, in the second place, as they
were to set sail for England on the morrow, there was no time left even
for consideration. Mr Westwood, therefore, said that he could not
permit Will to see Flora again, except to bid her farewell, and advised
him to have patience until he should return to England, where, he said
frankly, he would be happy to see him. Will thereupon left the cottage,
in a state of distraction, to lay his case before Captain Dall.

"So you see, captain," he added, after detailing all the circumstances,
"there is only one course open to me, and that I am resolved to pursue.
I shall sail for England in the--the what's the name of the ship the
Westwoods are to sail in?"

"Don't know," answered the captain.

"Of course not--no matter. We shall find out. She sails to-morrow at
all events, and I go with her. You will go back with Mr Cupples to
Grizzly Bear Gulch, work the gold, make what you can out of it, pay
yourselves, and hold the estate for me. I'll get that legally arranged
to-night. You'll tell my comrades how sorry I am to leave them so
abruptly, but under the circumstances they will--"

"Softly," interrupted Captain Dall; "if all this is to be settled
to-night, we had better set about it at once, and not waste time with
words."

"Right, captain. Let us off to search for the captain of the ship."

Leaving Mr Cupples to eat the supper alone, our hero and his friend
went out in hot haste, and soon found themselves in the presence of the
captain of the Roving Bess, which was to sail next day.

"By the way," whispered Will to his friend, as they were entering the
room in which the skipper sat, "do you happen to have any cash? for _I_
have only twenty pounds."

"Not a rap," whispered the captain.

"You are the captain of the Roving Bess, I am told?" said Will,
addressing a big rawboned man, who sat at a table solacing himself with
a glass of spirits and water and a cigar.

"Ya-a-s, Cap'n Bra-a-o-wn, at y'r sarvice."

Captain Brown drawled this out so slowly that one might have supposed he
did it on principle, as a sort of general protest against the
high-pressure speed and hurry that influenced every one around him.

"You have passengers going, I understand?"

"Ya-a-s. Reverend genlm'n an' two ladies."

"Can you take another?"

"A dozen mo-a-r, if need be."

"Then pu