"Why, Master Keene, you have done it very cleverly, that's the truth; and that letter, which is as good as a certificate from Captain Delmar, must be taken great care of. I hardly know where it ought to be put, but I think the best thing will be for me to sew it in a seal-skin pouch that I have, and then you can wear it round your neck, and next your skin; for, as you say, you and that must never part company. But, Master Keene, you must be silent as death about it. You have told me, and I hope I may be trusted, but trust nobody else. As to saying or hinting anything to the captain, you mustn't think of it; you must go on as before, as if you knew nothing, for if he thought you had the letter in your possession he would forget you were his son, and perhaps hate you. He never would have been induced to acknowledge you under his own hand as his son had he not thought that you were dead and gone, as everybody else did; so behave just as respectful and distant as before. It's only in some great emergency that that letter will do you any good, and you must reserve it in case of need. If your mother is suspicious, why, you must blind her. Your granny will swear that it was your ghost; your mother may think otherwise, but cannot prove it; she dare not tell the captain that she suspects you have the letter, and it will all blow over after a cruise or two." I agreed to follow the advice of Bob Cross, as I saw it was good, and we parted for the night. The next morning I went on shore to the captain, who received me, very stiffly, with, "Mr Keene, you have had a narrow escape. How did you get back?" I replied, that the vessel which picked me up was bound to London and that I had taken the coach down. "Well, I never had an idea that we should have seen you again and I have written to your mother, acquainting her with your loss." "Have you, sir?" replied I; "it will make her very unhappy." "Of course it will; but I shall write by this post, stating that you have been so fortunately preserved." "Thanky, sir," replied I; "have you any further orders, sir?" "No, Mr Keene; you may go on board and return to your duty." I made my bow, and quitted the room; went down below, and found Bob Cross waiting for me. "Well?" said he, as we walked away. "Stiff as ever," replied I: "told me to go on board and 'tend to my duty." "Well, I knew it would be so," replied Bob; "it's hard to say what stuff them great nobs are made of. Never mind that; you've your own game to play, and your own secret to keep." "His secret," replied I, biting my lips, "to keep or to tell, as may happen." "Don't let your vexation get the better of you, Master Keene; you've the best of it, if you only keep your temper; let him play his cards, and you play yours. As you know his cards and he don't know yours, you must win the game in the end--that is, if you are commonly prudent." "You are right, Cross," replied I; "but you forget that I am but a boy."