“He must be protected against hisself,” said Mr. Porson, spitefully; “that’s the ’ardest part. He’s a man what if ’e thinks it’s his dooty ’ll go away just as ’e did before.” “Well if he gets away from Charlie,” said Mr. Tipping, “he’ll be cute. There’s one thing, Mr. Robinson: if you try to get away from those who love you and are looking after you, there’ll be a fight first, then there’ll be a police court fuss, and then we shall find out what the Government mean by it.” Captain Flower sat down in an easy posture as though he intended a long stay, and in a voice broken with emotion murmured something about home, and rest, and freedom from danger. “That’s just it,” said Mrs. Tipping, “here you are, and here you’ll stay. After you’re married, it’ll be Matilda’s affair; and now let’s have some tea.” “First of all, mar, kiss Fred,” said Miss Tipping, who had been eyeing her parent closely. Mrs. Tipping hesitated, but the gallant captain, putting a good face on it, sprang up and, passing his arm about her substantial waist, saluted her, after which, as a sort of set-off, he kissed Miss Tipping. “I can only say,” he said truthfully, “that this kindness hurts me. The day I’m married I’ll tell you all.” CHAPTER XIII. In happy ignorance that the late master of the _Foam_ had secured a suite of rooms at the Blue Posts Hotel, the late mate returned to London by train with a view of getting into communication with him as soon as possible. The delay occasioned by his visit to Bittlesea was not regretted, Mr. Fraser senior having at considerable trouble and expense arranged for him to take over the _Swallow_ at the end of the week. Owing to this rise in his fortune he was in fairly good spirits, despite the slur upon his character, as he made his way down to the wharf. The hands had knocked off work for the day, and the crew of the schooner, having finished their tea, were sprawling in the bows smoking in such attitudes of unstudied grace as best suited the contours of their figures. Joe looked up as he approached, and removing his pipe murmured something inaudible to his comrades. “The mate’s down below, sir,” said Mr. William Green in reply to Fraser. “I shall be pleased to fetch him.” He walked aft and returned shortly, followed by Ben, who, standing stiffly before his predecessor, listened calmly to his eager enquiry about his letter. “No, there’s been nothing for you,” he said, slowly. He had dropped the letter overboard as the simplest way of avoiding unpleasantness. “Was you expecting one?” Fraser, gazing blankly at him, made no reply, being indeed staggered by the thoroughness with which he imagined the wily Flower was playing his part. “He’s going to be lost his full six months, that’s evident,” he thought, in consternation. “He must have seen the way I should be affected; it would serve him right to tell the whole thing right away to Captain Barber.”