e of leaving his beat for one
glance over the side. Then his eye focussed itself sleepily on two
officers leaning over the rail, both with medal ribbons upon their white
coats, while one carried his speaking trumpet.

"Where from?" he asked politely. "We've recently had a brush with the
natives. Can you give us news?"

"They've been in the thick of it," suddenly exclaimed the other. "Look
at the young fellow. He's covered with blood, and the boat's cut to
pieces; the sides are in ribbons. Why, it must be young Stapleton,
about whose safety there has been such a commotion."

"And the fellow's done, done altogether," said the other. "Who are you,
sir?"

"Dick Stapleton, sir. Just got through from up country. We met a whole
army, about to cross the Prahsu. We got through with some difficulty,
as they were already afloat. We're dead beat, sir, but I can't sleep
till my store of gold is looked to. It's worth something. Can you
help?"

Dick was weary and done up. He had realised that long ago, but the need
for effort had kept both pluckily at their posts. Now, however, with
the all-protecting arm of the British Navy to watch over them, the
desire for sleep was irresistible. Their eyes were more than half
closed. And they winked suspiciously when they attempted to look at any
one object for long.

"Sergeant of the guard! Put a couple of men aboard at once," came the
order. "Mr Hilden, oblige by going down to the launch and making an
inventory. Glad to see you, Mr Stapleton. We'll talk later.
Meanwhile come aboard and leave the gold. It shall be well taken care
of. Help him up, my man, and bring him along under the awnings."

A friendly and firm arm helped Dick from the launch, while another tar
took Johnnie in charge. Our hero was almost carried to the deck above
and was straightway popped into a hammock. Then some one held a glass
to his lips. He drank, and at once fell asleep. He had earned a rest
and determined to enjoy it.

CHAPTER TWELVE.

IN HOME WATERS.

"'Ello! Awake, me 'earty! Blow me, but you've jest slept the clock
right round! What time o' day is it? Nine o'clock, or thereabouts.
'Taint no use a givin' it to yer in bells, 'cos you ain't no sailor.
You've slept the clock round, Mr Stapleton, and you've laid there since
yesterday mornin', a-sleepin' like a infant. 'Twasn't no use a-tryin'
to stir yer up, though the skipper--the Commodore that is--did 'ave a
try. 'E'