Patrick Onslow met at least five men there he knew, which shows the great advantage of being a University man; because, since at Oxford and Cambridge they most successfully refrain from teaching anything that is of commercial use to any one except a parson or a doctor or a school-master, it naturally follows that many men from those seats of learning fail to make a living at home, and drift across the seas. He did not make the smallest secret about his advent. As the newspapers had told them already, he had been on the unlucky _Port Edes_ when she came to grief, but had managed to get ashore by a marvelous streak of luck, and found himself at a spot where, less than a year ago, he had been wandering about on a shooting expedition. Thence he had made his way in a dug-out, bought from a Seminole, to the hotel on Point Sebastian. _V’la tout_. There was nothing surprising about it. He had had several opportunities for drowning before that, but none of them had ever come off. So he supposed that the _Parcæ_ marked him out to live. And—what would they have? His shout. At that period Mr. Patrick Onslow was feeling extremely pleased with himself. He hated the work at which he had been engaged, as any man must hate being mixed with a swindle, be it great or small. And the end seemed near—the end, conjoined to full success. He had had a struggle for it, because once more Captain Kettle had felt inclined to fight for his own hand rather than do all things for mere employers, who only paid him a small salary. It was when Onslow woke from that dead sleep on the wheel grating of the upper bridge, and came down to learn of the tragedy of the plume-hunters which had taken place during his unconsciousness, that he got the first hint of this. The little captain received him with cold stiffness, was wooden when asked for any suggestion, and snarled when Onslow inquired what ailed him. It was the donkeyman who put the difficulty into words. “And, captain, now,” said he, “how much might yez be getting out of all this for yerself?” “£500.” “Begor it’s a mighty lot of money, and little enough too. I wish I’d it meself, an’ more. I’d like a house ashore, an’ a wife, an’ an ass-cart that I might dhrive her out in like a gentleman, besides other things.” “Oh, stop that. Don’t tell me what a man might do if he’d his pick of the money in this ship. I can figure that out for myself without suggestions from any blasted Irishman. Have been doing in fact.” “Ah, now, captain dear, don’t be cross wid me, because I was going on to say that in case of trouble—in case there was, we’ll say, a thrifling argument, I’d be on your side. Mr. Onslow, you’re a gentleman, an’ I like ye well, but the captain here’s me officer—an’—well, sor, a boy must look after himself sometimes, ’specially when there’s a chance like this ready to his fingers. ’Twon’t come again in a lifetime.”