“We couldn’t ’elp you coming aboard,” said Bill, “that’s wot the old man said, but ’e ses we can ’elp giving of him vittles, he ses.” “Well, have I got to starve?” demanded the horror-stricken Mr. Bliss. “Look ’ere,” said Bill, frankly, “go and speak to the old man. It’s no good talking to us. Go and have it out with him.” Private Bliss thanked him and went on deck. Old Thomas was at the wheel, and a pleasant clatter of knives and forks came up through the open skylight of the cabin. Ignoring the old man, who waved him away, he raised the open skylight still higher, and thrust his head in. “Go away,” bawled the skipper, pausing with his knife in his fist as he caught sight of him. “I want to know where I’m to have my dinner,” bawled back the thoroughly roused Mr. Bliss. “Your _dinner_!” said the skipper, with an air of surprise; “why, I didn’t know you ’ad any.” Private Bliss took his head away, and holding it very erect, took in his belt a little and walked slowly up and down the deck. Then he went to the water-cask and took a long drink, and an hour later a generous message was received from the skipper that he might have as many biscuits as he liked. On this plain fare Private Bliss lived the whole of that day and the next, snatching a few hours’ troubled sleep on the locker at nights. His peace of mind was by no means increased by the information of Ted that Bystermouth was a garrison town, and feeling that in spite of any explanation he would be treated as a deserter, he resolved to desert in good earnest at the first opportunity that offered. By the third day nobody took any notice of him, and his presence on board was almost forgotten, until Bob, going down to the forecastle, created a stir by asking somewhat excitedly what had become of him. “He’s on deck, I s’pose,” said the cook, who was having a pipe. “He’s not,” said Bob, solemnly. “He’s not gone overboard, I s’pose?” said Bill, starting up. Touched by this morbid suggestion they went up on deck and looked round; Private Bliss was nowhere to be seen, and Ted, who was steering, had heard no splash. He seemed to have disappeared by magic, and the cook, after a hurried search, ventured aft, and, descending to the cabin, mentioned his fears to the skipper. “Nonsense!” said that gentleman, sharply, “I’ll lay I’ll find him.” He came on deck and looked round, followed at a respectful distance by the crew, but there was no sign of Mr. Bliss. Then an idea, a horrid idea, occurred to the cook. The colour left his cheeks and he gazed helplessly at the skipper. “What is it?” bawled the latter. The cook, incapable of speech, raised a trembling hand and pointed to the galley. The skipper started, and, rushing to the door, drew it hastily back.