Being baffled by the tactics of the "regular army," Puffeigh next tackled the sailor. What with cork wrinkles and other facial decorations, it would have been somewhat a puzzle for his mother to have identified Jerry, who looked his officer full in the face, and bowed rapidly, saying, "Service to ye, sir." "What ship do you belong to?" demanded the captain. "Wictory, yer honour." "What's your name?" bullied Puffeigh. "Jemmy Green, sir." "It's a deuced good job for you that I leave England a few days, or I'd call in a policeman and give you in charge. Clear out! you fellow, it's a blessing you don't belong to my ship, or I'd have you four dozen lashes for this evening's amusement." Saying this the noble commander strutted fiercely out of the hall. Thompson waited until his superior officer was fairly up stairs, when he bawled after him, "Pleasant voyage to you, captain. I'm glad we ain't aboard the Stinger," and then vanished out-of-doors with his lady. The lovers lingered long at the gate, and bade each other good-bye a hundred times. "I'll never look at any one else again, Jerry dear," sobbed Mary Ann. "And I'll be as true as steel, s' help me, I will," replied the ardent lover. The girl saw him to the end of the lane, and then bade him good-bye, upon which he vowed he must see her safely back again. This little amusement they repeated a great many times, until the cook came out, with her apron over her head, and declared "they were both fools; and if Mary Ann didn't come in, she would lock her out." This announcement brought them to their senses; so, resigning his love to the care of her sympathetic fellow-servant, he, with something very much like a groan, tore himself away. One of the housemaids lingered upon the stairs to hear how the lovers parted, and when the cook gave her the particulars, she exclaimed "_Poor_ Mary Ann! _poor_ Jerry! especially poor Mary Ann!" And in this sentiment, peculiar as it is, we cordially agree. [Illustration: Decoration] CHAPTER V. A heavy raw fog hung about the ships anchored off Spithead on the morning appointed for Clare's punishment. Aurora seemed to have an inkling that man was about to do a very mean action; and not being able to prevent the outrage, endeavoured, woman-like, to veil it.