manner was gall and wormwood to him, and therefore he swore to himself that he would have vengeance, even to the death of Lamport. So Bill husbanded his resources and waited, and at last the time came when Lamport was to reap what he had sown. This was Bill's last day. He was unable to get any further funds from Kavasji, and had with regret in his heart shipped on an American cargo-boat that was to sail the next day. He had stipulated for a last day on shore, and, as he had asked for no advance of pay, this was readily granted to him. Besides, he was known to the master of the vessel as a good sailor, and one whom he could rely on for good as well as evil. Lamport had hardly been gone half an hour when Bill re-entered the bar and feverishly looked round him. It was his last chance, and he had to go back to his ship. There was a look of disappointment on his face as he saw that the man he wanted was not there, and that after all he should miss him. A light of eagerness came into his eyes as Kavasji beckoned to him, and whispered a few words in his ear. "Where? Which way did he go?" said Bill. Kavasji pointed to the street, and Bill, turning, rushed out of the door. Once in the street, however, he looked blankly around. There was no knowing what direction Lamport had taken, and with a curse on his ill-luck Bill squared his broad shoulders and strode through the mud toward the quay. He could have--in fact, to keep up the tradition of his kind, he ought to have--hailed a cab and been driven toward the harbour roaring a wild song. But Bill did not fancy this to-night. It was enough for him that his prey had escaped for the present. If they should meet! Dungaree swore under his bushy black beard that no mortal should part them until he had exacted his tithe of vengeance to the uttermost farthing.