"Nearly four years and a half, sir." "Well, the rest will soon be over; and if you do your duty, my patronage shall not be wanting." Here there was a bow on my part, and a pause, and I was backing out with another bow, when the captain said, "How is your mother, Mr Keene?" "She has been advised to retire from business, and to settle in the country," replied I, mournfully; "her health is such, that--" Here I stopped, as I preferred deceiving him by implication, or rather allowing him to deceive himself. "I am sorry to hear that," replied he; "but she never was strong as a young woman." Here the captain stopped, as if he had said too much. "No, sir," replied I; "when in the service of Mrs Delmar she could not be put to anything that required fatigue." "Very true," replied the captain. "You may go on board, Mr Keene, and desire my clerk to make out a letter, requesting your discharge from the Salvadore into the Manilla. Do you require anything?" "No, sir, I thank you. I need not trespass on your generosity just now. Good morning, sir." "Good morning, Mr Keene." "I beg your pardon Captain Delmar," said I, as I held the door ajar; "but should you like Robert Cross, your former coxswain, should join you in the same capacity? I know where he is." "Yes, Mr Keene, I should like to have him: he was a steady, good man. You will oblige me by writing to him, and requesting him to join immediately. Where is he?" "At Portsmouth, Captain Delmar." "Very well; tell him to come round as fast as he can. By the bye, you will have two of your old messmates--Mr Smith, the master, and Mr Dott. I hope the latter is a little more steady than he was. I was in hopes to have had your old acquaintance, Mr Culpepper, with us; but he died about six weeks back--a fit, or something of that kind." "Thank heaven for that," thought I. Again I made my most respectful bow, and quitted the room. I returned to my own hotel, and sitting down, I began to reflect upon the interview. I recalled all that had passed, and I made up my mind that I was right in preparing him for the report of my mother's death: his reception of me was all that I could have expected from him--it was cordial; but my blood boiled when I called to mind that he had only made a casual inquiry after my mother, as I was leaving the room; and then his checking himself because he had inadvertently said that she was not strong when she was a young woman. "Yes," thought I; "he cannot bear the remembrance of the connection; and it is only for myself, and not from any natural affection of a parent, that he cares for me; or if he does care for me as his son, it is because I have his blood in my veins; and he despises and looks down upon the mother. I am sure that he will be anything but sorry to hear that my mother is dead, and he shall be gratified. I will now write to her."