stion is whether I ought to take
it. I wished for your advice.'

'I heard what passed,' said the captain. 'I should call your right as
complete as if you had a will made by a half a dozen lawyers. When we
get into port, a few crowns to the ship's company to drink your health,
and all will be right. Will you count it?'

The folds were undone, and little piles made of the gold, but neither the
captain nor Arthur were much the wiser. The purser might have computed
it, but Captain Beresford did not propose this, thinking perhaps that it
was safer that no report of a treasure should get abroad in the ship.

He made a good many inquiries, which he had deferred till Arthur should
be in a fitter condition for answering, first about the capture and
wreck, and what the young man had been able to gather about the
Cabeleyzes. Then, as the replies showed that he had a gentleman before
him, Captain Beresford added that he could not help asking, '_Que diable
allait il faire dans cette galere_?'

'Sir,' said Arthur, 'I do not know whether you will think it your duty to
make me a prisoner, but I had better tell you the whole truth.'

'Oho!' said the captain; 'but you are too young! You could never have
been out with--with--we'll call him the Chevalier.'

'I ran away from school,' replied Arthur, colouring. 'I was a mere boy,
and I never was attainted,' explained Arthur, blushing. 'I have been
with my Lord Nithsdale, and my mother thought I could safely come home,
and that if I came from Sweden my brother could not think I compromised
him.'

'Your brother?'

'Lord Burnside. He is at Court, in favour, they say, with King George.
He is my half-brother; my mother is a Maxwell.'

'There is a Hope in garrison at Port Mahon--a captain,' said the captain.
'Perhaps he will advise you what to do if you are sick of Jacobite
intrigue and mystery, and ready to serve King George.'

Arthur's face lighted up. 'Will it be James Hope of Ryelands, or Dickie
Hope of the Lynn, or--?'

Captain Beresford held up his hands.

'Time must show that, my young friend,' he said, smiling. 'And now I
think the officers expect you to join their mess in the gunroom.'

There Arthur found the little Chevalier strutting about in an adaptation
of the smallest midshipman's uniform, and the centre of an admiring
party, who were equally diverted by his consequential airs and by his
accounts of his sports among the Moors. Happy fellow, he could adapt