Lasses could all disappear under fresh names,
it did not greatly matter if the brig were bought, or any small
discrepancies should be discovered in the wrecking. The identification
of one of their number had changed all that. The smallest scandal must
now direct attention to the movements of Norris. It would be asked how
he who had sailed in a schooner from Sydney had turned up so shortly
after in a brig out of Hong Kong; and from one question to another all
his original shipmates were pretty sure to be involved. Hence arose
naturally the idea of preventing danger, profiting by Carthew's
new-found wealth, and buying the brig under an _alias_; and it was put
in hand with equal energy and caution. Carthew took lodgings alone under
a false name, picked up Bellairs at random, and commissioned him to buy
the wreck.

"What figure, if you please?" the lawyer asked.

"I want it bought," replied Carthew. "I don't mind about the price."

"Any price is no price," said Bellairs. "Put a name upon it."

"Call it ten thousand pounds then, if you like!" said Carthew.

In the meanwhile, the captain had to walk the streets, appear in the
consulate, be cross-examined by Lloyd's agent, be badgered about his
lost accounts, sign papers with his left hand, and repeat his lies to
every skipper in San Francisco; not knowing at what moment he might run
into the arms of some old friend who should hail him by the name of
Wicks, or some new enemy who should be in a position to deny him that of
Trent. And the latter incident did actually befall him, but was
transformed by his stout countenance into an element of strength. It was
in the consulate (of all untoward places) that he suddenly heard a big
voice inquiring for Captain Trent. He turned with the customary sinking
at his heart.

"_You_ ain't Captain Trent!" said the stranger, falling back. "Why,
what's all this? They tell me you're passing off as Captain
Trent--Captain Jacob Trent--a man I knew since I was that high."

"O, you're thinking of my uncle as had the bank in Cardiff," replied
Wicks, with desperate _aplomb_.

"I declare I never knew he had a nevvy!" said the stranger.

"Well, you see he has!" says Wicks.

"And how is the old man?" asked the other.

"Fit as a fiddle," answered Wicks, and was opportunely summoned by the
clerk.

This alert was the only one until the morning of the sale, when he was
once more alarmed by his interview with Jim; and it was with some
anxiety t