The gangway was lowered, and strong arms, using all their dexterity, flung the larger bundle of oilskins into the arms of the sailor standing on the bottom step; they were going to follow with the thinner, taller bundle, but it shook them off with indignation. The larger bundle was passed up; the other scrambled up and stood on the deck bareheaded in front of the Admiral and the Captain. The Admiral conducted them along the slippery and unsteady deck to his state-room under the quarter-deck, and with his own hands peeled the oilskins from the lady, while the Captain gave orders for cordials, and the other bundle slipped back to the door of the state-room and began to lay off its oilskins there. It was a little, slim, fair woman who stood before the hero, quite thinly clad when she removed the cloak under the oilskins, and evidently a widow, but of some years' standing. She was the gentlest-looking creature imaginable, except for a certain firmness about the pathetic little mouth. The Admiral had signed to me to follow; he gave me the oilskins to hold. It was just like him: not until he had made the most solicitous inquiries and had offered her everything in the ship, did he ask whom he had the honour of addressing. She took a sip of the cordial, and put her hand up to her silky fair hair, and finding how wet it was, gave it a little shake, as if she expected to dry herself like a dog. And after the shake she looked at the Admiral, who was re-beginning his inquiry with a considerable amount of trepidation, when she cut him short with: "I am Mrs. Hardres: is it too late? We have been waiting in Portsmouth since the beginning of the storm, and this is the first day we have been able to get a boat to bring us off." "My missing midshipman," he cried gaily. "Madam, it is never too late to get a good officer; but where is he?" "Will!" called his mother. But there was no Will to be found. The Admiral, with the smile for which any man in his fleet was ready to die, flew to the door of the state-room in front of Mrs. Hardres. She knew where to look for her son. He was standing just outside the door in his new midshipman's rig. His oilskins were lying folded in a neat pile on the deck beside him, though it had come on to rain in torrents. "Come in, Will," said the Admiral, in his best-pleased manner; and his satisfaction as he scanned him, face and figure, was evident, though he expressed it indirectly. "He's a big fellow for a midshipman, Mrs. Hardres. I was a post captain at twenty-one." "The only son of a widow, Sir Horatio. But the time has come when the widow must give her mite." Tears came into the Admiral's eyes. I never knew a man of such delicate sensibilities: though he did not know what fear meant, he could weep like a child. "How old are you, Will?" "Eighteen, sir," said Will. "You must make haste and be a lieutenant."