“I have done well as far as making money is concerned, which statement I wish added to my former deposition. Oh! most wise judge; I propose sailing within the week for Hong-kong, thence to San Francisco, from the latter port I desire to clear for Boston, in God’s country, stopping, however, at Port au Prince, Haiti, both as a matter of business and also with the design of personally thanking my kind godfather for his gifts. Finally I hope to reach New England and be with my dear mother while yet the Yankee hills are blooming with summer flowers. One word further and my story is finished. My object in returning to Boston is to induce my mother to return with me to Australia, where I have purchased some property and where I desire to make my home in future—finis—” “Fairly well told, my bold buccaneer; however, I disapprove of your making Australia your home. Now, sir, what about saving a few smallpox patients, emigrants, and such like, and receiving a letter from H.M. King of England, and such trifles as we read of in the newspaper?” demanded Tom, sententiously. “Oh! That just happened, and there has been too much said about it to find a place on my logbook,” replied Jack, shortly, coloring just a shade. “I’m!—well, no matter—I don’t agree with you, but I will shake your hand once again and say that I find my old chum as modest as I always knew him to be brave,” rejoined Tom Maxon, rising, reaching over and grasping Jack’s hand, and bowing gravely and respectfully as he held it. Jack’s face was now all fire-red, as he said in great embarrassment: “Oh, Pshaw, slack up, Tom, haul off.” “You know what the Admiral said when he read the account of what you had done?” cried out Tom when he settled back in his chair. “Of course, you don’t, but it’s a fine ram at the merchant marine. The Admiral thinks that an officer for sea service can’t be made except at Annapolis. When he read of what you had done, he exclaimed: ‘That fellow is almost good enough to be an officer in the United States Navy.’ The Executive officer who heard the Admiral repeated it, and ever since the fellows of our mess, who hate some of the ‘snobs’ that Annapolis sends to us, have been quietly poking fun at the old man about it.” “Now, will Lieutenant Thomas Maxon, U.S.N., in all the glory of his Annapolis seamanship, give an account of himself?” broke in Jack, anxious to escape further mention of his own affairs. “The last time I saw you, Tom, you were dancing at the end of Bessie Winthrop’s hawser. Though I had never, at the time, met your charmer, I thought her a pretty craft.” “That’s it! Now you touch the raw spot!” cried Tom.