Crushe hugged himself to think how well he had kept his word. Cravan, not knowing any better, imagined he was revenged. And the devil was delighted with the whole business. CHAPTER VI. The day after Clare's punishment the matter was almost forgotten in the hurry incident to preparation for sea. By 5 P.M. the ship was perfectly ready, and every one at his post, in immediate anticipation of getting under weigh, when the signal midshipman announced, "Our pennant's flying, sir." Up went the rolls of bunting, threading their way aloft until they reached the mast-heads of the flag-ship, when they broke and unfolded themselves to the breeze. Their purport being ascertained, Captain Puffeigh was informed that the Stinger was to remain at anchor until sunrise the next morning. Upon receiving this order the commander directed "the engine-room fires to be banked, and the crew piped to dance and skylark;" thus giving the officers and men an opportunity of writing farewells to their friends. Captain Puffeigh retired to his cabin, called for a supply of pens, ink, paper, and old crusted port, and proceeded to torture himself into letter-writing condition. In a short time he worked his ideas up to literary red-heat, and produced the following extraordinary effusion, during the manufacture of which he had blessed the paper, execrated his spectacles, and, in fact, blamed everything, but his own dull brains. Mrs. Puffeigh being young and pretty, we fear did not see much to admire in her husband, and was not at all sorry to be once more free from his oriental attentions. "_H. M. S. Stinger, off Spithead_, "_16 November_, ----. "ROBBY'S OWN PET, "I am sorry I cannot come on shore to say one more good-bye to my Tooty. I know that horrid Captain Dasher will be with you at the pic-nic about this time; but my pet will keep him at a distance. Don't give the dog too much meat, and discharge that saucy maid of yours, find out if you can to what ship her fellow belongs, his name is James Green. "I almost cry when I think how lonely you must be, poor Tooty, keep up your spirits. Tell the gardener to discharge his boys, and send all the peaches to the fruiterers. Keep the cellar key yourself, and if my brother visits you, give him bin three, port, it is good enough for a curate. How will my pet get on without me. Keep up your music, and don't paint your dear little face, don't you remember how people laughed at me at the archery meeting, when I wiped Tooty's face and the stuff came off. "Pretend to be gay, and show the envious ones that you are happy--don't waltz, darling pet. Doctor Muddle says, _it's the very worst exercise you can take_, slow dances are _not so bad_. I hope you will visit your relations as much as possible, _particularly those who do not wish you to invite them in return_.