The best part of the day was spent in relating the sad end of Captain Fred Flower to various enquirers. The deceased gentleman was a popular favourite, and clerks from the office and brother skippers came down in little knots to learn the full particulars, and to compare the accident with others in their experience. It reminded one skipper, who invariably took to drink when his feelings were touched, of the death of a little nephew from whooping-cough, and he was so moved over a picture he drew of the meeting of the two, that it took four men to get him off the schooner without violence. The mate sat for some time after tea striving to summon up sufficient courage for his journey to Poplar, and wondering whether it wouldn’t perhaps be better to communicate the news by letter. He even went so far as to get the writing materials ready, and then, remembering his promise to the skipper, put them away again and prepared for his visit. The crew who were on deck eyed him stolidly as he departed, and Joe made a remark to the cook, which that worthy drowned in a loud and troublesome cough. The Wheeler family were at home when he arrived, and received him with some surprise. Mrs. Wheeler, who was in her usual place on the sofa, shook hands with him in a genteel fashion, and calling his attention to a somewhat loudly attired young man of unpleasant appearance, who was making a late tea, introduced him as her son Bob. “Is Miss Tyrell in?” enquired Fraser, shaking his head as Mr. Wheeler dusted a small Wheeler off a chair and offered it to him. “She’s upstairs,” said Emma Wheeler; “shall I go and fetch her?” “No, I’ll go up to her,” said the mate quietly. “I think I’d better see her alone. I’ve got rather bad news for her.” “About the captain?” enquired Mrs. Wheeler, sharply. “Yes,” said Fraser, turning somewhat red. “Very bad news.” He fixed his eyes on the ground, and, in a spasmodic fashion, made perfect by practice, recited the disaster. “Pore feller,” said Mrs. Wheeler, when he had finished. “Pore feller, and cut down suddenly like that. I s’pose he ’adn’t made any preparation for it?” “Not a bit,” said the mate, starting, “quite unprepared.” “You didn’t jump over after him?” suggested Miss Wheeler, softly. “I did not,” said the mate, firmly; whereupon Miss Wheeler, who was fond of penny romance, sighed and shook her head. “There’s that pore gal upstairs,” said Mrs. Wheeler, sorrowfully, “all innocent and happy, probably expecting him to come to-night and take her out. Emma’d better go up and break it to ’er.” “I will,” said Fraser, shortly. “Better to let a woman do it,” said Mrs. Wheeler. “When our little Jemmy smashed his finger we sent Emma down to break it to his father and bring ’im ’ome. It was ever so long before she let you know the truth, wasn’t it, father?”