come of Charles Holland, to think that they would
probably be spared the necessity of saying they could not account for
his absence.

That he had gone upon some expedition, probably dangerous, and so one
which he did not wish to communicate the particulars of to his friends,
lest they should make a strong attempt to dissuade him from it, they
were induced to believe.

But yet they had that confidence in his courage and active intellectual
resources, to believe that he would come through it unscathed, and,
probably, shortly show himself at the cottage.

In this hope they were not disappointed, for in about two hours Charles
made his appearance; but, until he began to be questioned concerning his
absence by the admiral, he scarcely considered the kind of dilemma he
had put himself into by the promise of secrecy he had given to Varney,
and was a little puzzled to think now much he might tell, and how much
he was bound in honour to conceal.

"Avast there!" cried the admiral; "what's become of your tongue,
Charles? You've been on some cruize, I'll be bound. Haul over the ship's
books, and tell us what's happened."

"I have been upon an adventure," said Charles, "which I hope will be
productive of beneficial results to us all; but, the fact is, I have
made a promise, perhaps incautiously, that I will not communicate what I
know."

"Whew!" said the admiral, "that's awkward; but, however, if a man said
under sealed instructions, there's an end of it. I remember when I was
off Candia once---"

"Ha!" interposed Jack, "that was the time you tumbled over the blessed
binnacle, all in consequence of taking too much Madeira. I remember it,
too--it's an out and out good story, that 'ere. You took a rope's end,
you know, and laid into the bowsprit; and, says you, 'Get up, you
lubber,' says you, all the while a thinking, I supposes, as it was long
Jack Ingram, the carpenter's mate, laying asleep. What a lark!"

"This scoundrel will be the death of me," said the admiral; "there isn't
one word of truth in what he says. I never got drunk in all my life, as
everybody knows. Jack, affairs are getting serious between you and I--we
must part, and for good. It's a good many times that I've told you
you've forgot the difference between the quarter-deck and the caboose.
Now, I'm serious--you're off the ship's books, and there's an end of
you."

"Very good," said Jack; "I'm willing I'll leave you. Do you think I want
to keep you any lon