“Arter that,” continued the skipper, still watching him suspiciously, “I remember no more distinctly until this morning, when I found myself sitting on a step down Poplar way and shiverin’, with the morning newspaper and a crowd round me.” “Morning newspaper!” repeated the mystified mate. “What was that for?” “Decency. I was wrapped up in it,” replied the skipper. “Where I came from or how I got there I don’t know more than Adam. I s’pose I must have been ill; I seem to remember taking something out of a bottle pretty often. Some old gentleman in the crowd took me into a shop and bought me these clothes, an’ here I am. My own clo’es and thirty pounds o’ freight money I had in my pocket is all gone.” “Well, I’m hearty glad to see you back,” said the mate. “It’s quite a home-coming for you, too. Your missis is down aft.” “My missis? What the devil’s she aboard for?” growled the skipper, successfully controlling his natural gratification at the news. “She’s been with us these last two trips,” replied the mate. “She’s had business to settle in London, and she’s been going through your lockers to clear up, like.” “My lockers!” groaned the skipper. “Good heavens! there’s things in them lockers I wouldn’t have her see for the world; women are so fussy an’ so fond o’ making something out o’ nothing. There’s a pore female touched a bit in the upper storey, what’s been writing love letters to me, George.” “Three pore females,” said the precise mate; “the missis has got all the letters tied up with blue ribbon. Very far gone they was, too, poor creeters.” “George,” said the skipper in a broken voice, “I’m a ruined man. I’ll never hear the end o’ this. I guess I’ll go an’ sleep for’ard this voyage, and lie low. Be keerful you don’t let on I’m aboard, an’ after she’s home I’ll take the ship again, and let the thing leak out gradual. Come to life bit by bit, so to speak. It wouldn’t do to scare her, George, an’ in the meantime I’ll try an’ think o’ some explanation to tell her. You might be thinking too.” “I’ll do what I can,” said the mate. “Crack me up to the old girl all you can; tell her I used to write to all sorts o’ people when I got a drop of drink in me; say how thoughtful I always was of her. You might tell her about that gold locket I bought for her an’ got robbed of.” “Gold locket?” said the mate in tones of great surprise. “What gold locket? Fust I’ve heard of it.” “Any gold locket,” said the skipper irritably; “anything you can think of; you needn’t be pertikler. Arter that you can drop little hints about people being buried in mistake for others, so as to prepare her a bit—I don’t want to scare her.” “Leave it to me,” said the mate. “I’ll go an’ turn in now, I’m dead tired,” said the skipper. “I s’pose Joe and the boy’s asleep?”