uld not do much more than keep warm. Tom was equipped in similar
fashion, and both men wore that air of stoical cheerfulness which marks
our maligned race, and which tells of the spirit that has sent our
people as masters over all the earth.

"Let's come down and have coffee with the men, Tom. I'm going to have a
try at that Lowestoft smack if the snow only keeps away."

"Right, my adventurer; I'm with you. But I'm not going to let you run
any more risks of that life of yours, my bold mariner. Hah! I'm here to
take care of you, and you've got to be very meek, or I'll set up an
opposition shop. Don't you think I can? Didn't I do up that skipper's
arm in his sling after you took off his finger? Eh! Beware of a rival.
Ah-h!"

"Yes, Thomas, but if you administer turpentine for pleurisy, as you did
to the big Yarmouth fellow, we shall have to turn on a special coroner
to attend on you."

"My good what's-his-name?--Admirable Hitchin--ah-h Admirable Crichton!
that child of Nature took the turpentine of his own accord. I left it
with orders that the application should be external, and it was to be
rubbed in until we got back with the emulsion and the proper liniment;
he tastes it, and finds it hot; he swallows the lot by degrees, and he
doesn't die--he gets well. How am I to blame! I take credit for a
magnificent cure, sir. If you say two words, I'll advertise Lennard's
miraculous emulsion in every journal in town when we get back."

"Coffee, skipper, coffee. The shipwrecked mariners demand refreshment,"
boomed Thomas.

Ah! that coffee! Thick, bitter-sweet, greasy with long stewing! What a
fluid it is--or rather what a solid! Its insolent stodginess has only a
surface resemblance to a fluid; yet it is a comfort on snowy mornings,
and our wanderers took to it kindly.

Lewis had laid himself out to be merry, and several grinning faces
peered from the bunks with kindly welcome as he took his seat on a
rickety fish-box. The skipper asked, "Shall the steward fetch your bread
in here, sir? You can't manage ours."

"All right. How are the men aft?"

"The young fellow from the _Achilles_ was jabbering a bit again. By the
way, you knew Tom Betts had come away in the old _Achilles_, didn't you,
sir?"

"What Tom Betts? Oh yes. Man with concussion of the brain, wasn't it?"

"So I heerd, sir. He told everybody at home how you saved him, and when
he said how he thought he'd gone to heaven he set all the women in the
Mission Hal