tell me; and that
little was by no means reassuring. It appeared that a despatch-boat had
arrived from Malta on the previous day bringing letters for the fleet;
and, among the rest, there had been a couple of epistles for me. Bob
had gone on board the "Juno" for whatever letters there might be for the
cutter's crew, and had been ordered by the skipper to request my
presence on board. Thereupon master Bob had presented my note informing
the skipper of my proposed expedition. Instead of expressing his
gratification at my zeal, as Bobby had fully expected he would, it
appeared that the skipper had exhibited a very considerable amount of
irritation; finally ordering friend Robert somewhat peremptorily back to
the cutter, with instructions to send me without fail on board the
"Juno" immediately on my return, _if_ (which the skipper seemed to
consider highly improbable) I ever succeeded in returning at all.

By the time that Summers had brought his story to a close I was ready
for the breakfast which meantime had been preparing; and as it was still
much too early to present myself before Captain Hood (who seldom
appeared before eight bells) I sat down to the meal, with--it must be
confessed--a somewhat diminished appetite; hastily skimming through my
letters as I munched away at the weevily biscuits. There were two; one
from my dear old dad, and one from Sir Peregrine. There was nothing of
very special interest in either; my father's epistle dealing chiefly
with a few items of home gossip, such as that farmer Giles of the Glebe
had met with an accident in the hunting-field, his colt falling with him
and breaking the worthy farmer's leg--doctor pronounced it a compound
fracture; that the wife of Lightfoot, the gamekeeper, had presented her
husband with twins once more--two girls this time; mother and twins
doing well; that Old Jane Martin had been laid up all the winter with
rheumatism, etcetera, etcetera, etcetera; and that finally, all at home
were enjoying excellent health, and would be glad if I could find time
to write to them a little more frequently. My great-uncle, Sir
Peregrine, was not nearly so voluminous in his correspondence as my
father--sailors are not as a rule very good correspondents--what he had
to say was said in as few words as possible. Two pages of note-paper
sufficed the worthy admiral to inform me that he had been intensely
gratified at the terms in which my name had been mentioned in connexion