Jack and Tom had been pupils in the same school in Boston when they were boys. Their tastes and dispositions being much alike they became chums and warm friends. Like young ducks, both of the lads naturally took to the water. When they had gotten through with the grammar-school an appointment to the Annapolis Naval Academy was offered to young Maxon by the representative of his Congressional district, which he joyfully accepted, and hence was now a United States officer. Jack had entered the High School and later the merchant marine service. Though seeing but little of each other after their first separation, the same feeling of friendship and comradeship was maintained between Jack and Tom that had existed when as Boston schoolboys they chummed together, and whenever, at rare intervals, they were fortunate enough to meet they mutually threw off all the reserve that had come to them with age and became Boston boys once again. “Now, heave ahead, my bully-boy!” cried Tom, putting down his empty wine glass. “In addition to the gift of the ship from the firm, I found that my old cousin John had personally presented me with a large part of the ship’s cargo.” “Again hold! you lucky sea-dog! Here’s to dear old Cousin John, and God bless him!” called Tom gleefully, his generous sailor-soul as happy over the good fortune of his friend as if he himself had been the beneficiary of Mr. John Dunlap’s munificence, again pledging Jack’s kind kinsman in a glass of iced wine. “With all my heart I say, amen! Tom, God never made better men and more liberal kinsmen than the ‘J. Dunlaps,’” said Jack earnestly as he began again his recital. “When I arrived in Melbourne I disposed of my cargo through our agents, loaded and sailed for Liverpool, returned to Melbourne, took on a cargo for Manila, and here I am drinking to long life and good health to my two old kinsmen with my school fellow Tom Maxon.” “And the future programme is what?” said the lieutenant. “You have left out lots about yourself, that I know of, concerning your past movements, so try to be truthful about your future plans,” continued Maxon, assuming an inquisitorial air. “All right, my knowing father confessor,” answered Dunlap, laughing.