"You tink Queen Victolia like Ching teach lit' plince and plincess talk Chinese?" Again I was obliged to damp his aspirations, and he sighed. "What shall you do when we are gone, Ching?" I said. "Open fancee shop again. Sell muchee tea, basket, shell, culios, fo' Inglis people. Glow tow-chang velly long. Wait till Mr Hellick come back with jolly sailo' boy, fight pilate." And with that understanding, which was doomed never to be fulfilled, we parted. For the next morning the men were singing-- "Huzza! we're homeward bou-ou-ound. Huzza! we're homeward bound." And homeward we all--including Tom Jecks, who soon recovered from his injury--returned in safety, HMS _Teaser_ steaming gently one summer day into Plymouth Sound; and this is her log--my log--written by a boy. But that was years ago, and I'm an old boy now. THE END.