. "There can't be any
doubt about it. He's Mr. Farnum of Verden, the editor of the _World._"

"You're quite sure?"

"Quite sure, Captain Barclay. My cousin knows him, too."

The captain turned to Mrs. Van Tyle. She nodded languidly.

Barclay swung back to the mate of the _Nancy Hanks_. "I know your kind,
my man, and I can tell you that I think the penitentiary would be the
proper place for you and your captain, with my compliments to him."

"Better come and pay 'em yourself, sir," sneered the mate.

"Get off my deck, you dirty crimp," roared the captain. "Slide now, or
I'll have you thrown off."

Mr. Jones made a hurried departure. Once in the boat, he shook his fist
at Barclay and cursed him fluently.

The captain turned away promptly. "Mr. Farwell, if you'll step this way
the steward will outfit you with some clothes. If they don't fit they'll
do better than those togs you're wearing."

The English youth came forward with a suggestion. "Really, I think I can
do better than that for Mr. Far--" He hesitated for the name.

"Farnum," supplied the owner of it.

"Ah! You're about my size, Mr. Farnum. If you don't mind, you know,
you're quite welcome to anything I have."

"Thank you very much."

"Very well. Mr. Farwell--Farnum, I mean--shake hands with Lieutenant
Beauchamp," and with the sense of duty done the worthy captain dismissed
the new arrival from his mind.

Jeff bowed to Miss Frome and followed his broad-shouldered guide to a
cabin. He was conscious of an odd elation that had not entirely to do
with a brave adventure happily ended. The impelling cause of it was
rather the hope of a braver adventure happily begun.

Part 2

"By Jove, I envy you, Mr. Farnum. Didn't know people bucked into
adventures like that these tame days. Think of actually being
shanghaied. It's like a novel. My word, the ladies will make a lion of
you!"

The Englishman was dragging a steamer trunk from under his bed. It
needed no second glance at his frank boyish face to divine him a friend
worth having. Fresh-colored and blue-eyed, he looked very much the
country gentleman Jeff had read about but never seen. It was perhaps by
the gift of race that he carried himself with distinction, though the
flat straight back and the good shoulders of the cricketer contributed
somewhat, too. Jeff sized him up as a resolute, clean-cut fellow,
happily endowed with many gifts of fortune to make him the likable chap
he was.

Beauchamp th