The honest captain was very willing to gratify the other's harmless self-importance, though, to tell the truth, he retained no more personal knowledge of the David of the Dawn, than he had of David, King of the Jews. "Oh, David!" he cried, cordially--"are _you_ David? Well, I did not expect to see you again in this world, though I never doubted where we should be, hereafter I hope you are very well, David; what sort of weather have you made of it since we parted? If I recollect aright, you worked your passage;--never at sea before." "I beg your pardon, sir; I never was at sea before the _first_ time, it is true; but I did not belong to the crew. I was a passenger." "I remember, now, you were in the steerage," returned the captain, who saw daylight ahead. "Not at all, sir, but in the cabin." "Cabin!" echoed the captain, who perceived none of the requisites of a cabin-passenger in the other--"Oh! I understand, in the pantry?" "Exactly so, sir. You may remember my master--he had the left-hand state-room to himself, and I slept next to the scuttle-butt. You recollect master, sir?" "Out of doubt, and a very good fellow he was. I hope you live with him still?" "Lord bless you, sir, he is dead!" "Oh! I recollect hearing of it, at the time. Well, David. I hope if ever we cross again, we shall be ship-mates once more. We were beginners, then, but we have ships worth living in, now.--Good night." "Do you remember Dowse, sir, that we got from the wreck?" continued the other, unwilling to give up his gossip so soon. "He was a dark man, that had had the small-pox badly. I think, sir, you will recollect _him_, for he was a hard man in other particulars, besides his countenance." "Somewhat flinty about the soul; I remember the man well; and so, David, good night; you will come and see me, if you are ever in town. Good night, David." David was now compelled to leave the place, for Captain Truck, who perceived that the whole party was getting together again, in consequence of the halt, felt the propriety of dismissing his visiter, of whom, his master, and Dowse, he retained just as much recollection as one retains of a common stage-coach companion after twenty years. The appearance of Mr. Howel, who just at that moment approached them, aided the manoeuvre, and, in a few minutes the different groups were again in motion, though some slight changes had taken place in the distribution of the parties. Chapter XXIII. "How silver sweet sound lovers' tongues at night, Like softest music to attending ears!" ROMEO AND JULIET. "A poor matter, this of the fire-works," said Mr. Howel, who, with an old bachelor's want of tact, had joined Eve and Paul in their walk. "The English would laugh at them famously, I dare say. Have you heard Sir George allude to them at all, Miss Eve?"