"it is my happy lot
to give you what I know will prove a joyful surprise. This lady"--and
he bowed to Mrs. Le Mescam, who was sitting looking at him with a bright
expectancy in her dark eyes--"is your own cousin, Adela Channing. There,
I'll leave you now. She has much to tell you, poor girl; I have decided
to go straight to the Admiral at Singapore instead of touching at
Ternate, and if old Cardew is worth his salt he'll give you leave to
take her to Calcutta."

*****

Of course, Channing and Adela fell in love with each other, and he duly
married the lady, and when they reached England he received the news of
the inheritance that had fallen to him by John Channing's death.

Ex-Sergeant Watts, of the Marines, followed his master when he retired
from the Service, and was for long the especial guardian of the
"cherubim," as Adela Channing's eldest boy had been named by the
_Triton's_ people--until other sons and daughters appeared to claim his
devotion.

PROCTOR THE DRUNKARD

Proctor, the ex-second mate of the island-trading brig _Bandolier_,
crawled out from under the shelter of the overhanging rock where he
had passed the night, and brushing off the thick coating of dust which
covered his clothes from head to foot, walked quickly through the leafy
avenues of Sydney Domain, leading to the city.

Sleeping under a rock in a public park is not a nice thing to do, but
Proctor had been forced to do it for many weeks past. He didn't like it
at first, but soon got used to it. It was better than having to ask
old Mother Jennings for a bed at the dirty lodging-house, and being
refused--with unnecessary remarks upon his financial position. The
Sailors' Home was right enough; he could get a free bed there for the
asking, and some tucker as well. But then at the Home he had to listen
to prayers and religious advice, and he hated both, upon an empty
stomach. No, he thought, the Domain was a lot better; every dirty "Jack
Dog" at the Home knew he had been kicked out of sundry ships before he
piled up the _Bandolier_, and they liked to comment audibly on their
knowledge of the fact while he was eating his dinner among them--it's a
way which A.B.'s have of "rubbing it in" to an officer down on his beam
ends. Drunkard? Yes, of course he was, and everybody knew it. Why, even
that sour-faced old devil of a door-keeper at the Home put a tract on
his bed every evening. Curse him and his "Drunkard, beware!" and every
other rotten