We were all glad to see Jack Tanerton again. He had paid Timberdale but one visit, and that a flying one, since he took command of the _Rose of Delhi_. It was the old Jack Tanerton, frank of face, hearty of manner, flying to all the nooks and corners of the parish with outstretched hands to rich and poor, with kind words and generous help for the sick and sorrowful: just the same, only with a few more years gone over his head. I don't say but Herbert was also glad to see him; only Herbert never displayed much gladness at anything. One morning Jack and I chanced to be out together; when, in passing through the green and shady lane, that would be fragrant in summer with wild roses and woodbine, and that skirted Maythorn Bank, we saw some one stooping to peer through the sweetbriar hedge, as if he wanted to see what the house was like, and did not care to look at it openly. He sprang up at sound of our footsteps. It was a slight, handsome young man of five or six-and-twenty, rather under the middle height, with a warm colour, bright dark eyes, and dark whiskers. The gold band on his cap showed that he was a sailor, and he seemed to recognize Jack with a start. "Good-morning, sir," he cried, hurriedly. "Is it you, Mr. Pym?--good-morning," returned Jack, in a cool tone. "What are you doing down here?" "The ship's finished unloading, and is gone into dry dock to be re-coppered, so I've got a holiday," replied the young man: and he walked away with a brisk step, as if not caring to be questioned further. "Who is he?" I asked, as we went on in the opposite direction. "My late chief mate: a man named Pym." "You spoke as if you did not like him, Jack." "Don't like him at all," said Jack. "My own chief mate left me in Calcutta, to better himself, as the saying runs; he got command of one of our ships whose master had died out there; Pym presented himself to me, and I engaged him. He gave me some trouble on the homeward voyage; drank, was insolent, and would shirk his duty when he could. Once I had to threaten to put him in irons. I shall never allow him to sail with me again--and he knows it." "What is he here for?" "Don't know at all," returned Jack. "He can't have come after me, I suppose." "Has he left the ship?" "I can't tell. I told the brokers in London I should wish to have another first officer appointed in Pym's place. When they asked why, I only said he and I did not hit it off together very well. I don't care to report ill of the young man; it might damage his prospects; and he may do better with another master than he did with me." At that moment Pym overtook us, and accosted Jack: saying something about some bales of "jute," which, as I gathered, had constituted part of the cargo. "Have you got your discharge from the ship, Mr. Pym?" asked Jack, after answering his question about the bales of jute. "No, sir." "No!"