"I've been married six years or more," he continued in a half whisper. "My wife is the daughter of an old shipmate who was killed in action by my side. His last words were, `Take care of my orphan child--my Mary.' I promised him I would as long as I had life and a shilling in my pocket. I expected to see a little girl with a big bow at her waist, and a doll in her arms--as he'd described her. He'd been five years from home or more, poor fellow. Instead of that, I found a handsome young woman, tall and graceful. What could I do? I was struck all of a heap, as the saying is; and I discovered at last, that though I was but a mate in the service, and an old fellow to boot compared to her, she liked me; so we married. I'd saved some little prize-money, and I thought myself rich; but it went wonderfully quick, and a rogue of a fellow who borrowed some wouldn't even pay me; and if it hadn't been for the sake of Mary I wouldn't have said anything to him, but let the coin burn a hole in his pockets. I went to law, and the upshot was that I lost all I had remaining. Now came the tug of war. Was I to go to sea again and leave Mary? I couldn't bear the thought of it. Anything would be better than that. I would enter into some business. A bright idea struck me. Three or four hundred pounds would enable me to carry it out. Mary and I agreed that I should have no difficulty in getting that, I had so many friends. I would pay them a good interest. I tried. You should have seen how they buttoned up their pockets and pursed up their lips; how many similar applications they had, how many decayed relations wanted their assistance! They didn't say, however, that they had assisted them. I had no business to complain; I had made a mistake, and I felt ashamed of myself. At first, though my heart swelled, I was very angry; but I got over that feeling, and I resolved to trust to myself alone. It was not till then that I recovered my self-respect. I say, Merry; if you fancy that you have many friends, don't you ever attempt to borrow money from them, or you'll find that you are woefully mistaken. Mary and I talked the matter over, and she settled to keep a school, and I to come to sea again. "It was a sore trial, youngster, and you may fancy that a rich galleon wouldn't be an unacceptable prize, to save the poor girl from the drudgery she has to go through. It wasn't the way her poor father expected me to treat her, but I have done my best; what can a man do more?" The old mate was going to help himself to another glass, but he put the bottle away from him with resolution. I had observed that he often took more than anybody else in the mess; but after that, whenever I saw him doing so, I had only to mention his wife, and he instantly stopped. From this account he had given of himself I liked him much better than ever.