"No, Lennox, not unless you choose, I believe--the commodore has no objection to your acting as steward, agreeably to your wish, until you get strong; so you may remain, if you like." "Thank you, sir." I noticed the large tears roll down his cheeks as he turned his emaciated countenance to the ship's side and wept. I was mightily surprised at all this, and mentioned the circumstance to my worthy cousin, who did not seem to understand it either. "What can you mean by this, my man? No sham sentimentality with me, my fine fellow." "Oh no, sir--no--I am unused to kindness, sir, and weak enough, God knows; but really, in my present condition, I am unable to do my duty in the frigate." "Well, has not Mr Brail told you you might stay if you choose?" "Yes, thank you, sir--you don't know what a load you have taken from my heart, sir." "What mean you, man--speak out--no humbugging. If you won't answer me--by the powers"--he approached the spot where he lay--the poor wasted lad had fainted. He now called the surgeon, who immediately saw there was no make-believe in the matter, so he had him taken below; and as time and tide wait for no man, we now returned to the frigate to dinner. I had previously determined in my own mind, taking into account Sir Oliver's ailing condition, to remain in the Midge; more especially as she was bound direct to the port where my chief business lay, trusting to get down to Jamaica afterwards; so the first thing I did on reaching Gazelle, was to get the commodore's concurrence to the plan. I had some difficulty in obtaining this; but finally, after many good advices, he acquiesced; and we adjourned to the cabin. Mr Garboard, who was by this time well enough to be out of his cot, and old Sprawl, along with one of the midshipmen, were, with Lanyard and myself, Sir Oliver's guests at dinner. The thing went on very much as usual--the cloth had been drawn, and during a pause in the conversation, I asked Sir Oliver "If he knew any thing of Lennox?" "What--the corporal of marines? Why, no--I don't know much about him, Mr Brail,--how should I?" said he, smiling. "I did not expect that you would, Sir Oliver," replied I, taken a little aback; "but he is certainly a very odd creature." The commodore here rang his bell. "Gascoigne, send the Serjeant of marines here." "Which, Sir Oliver," said the man--"Sergeant Lorimer, or Pigot, sir?" "Send Serjeant Lorimer here." The soldier, in his white jacket and trowsers, black cross belts, round hat, with a white tape band round it, and white cords, or lanyards on each side, fastening the brims up to the crown, like tiny shrouds, appeared at the door; and facing us, made his salute, as stiff as a poker, putting his hand up to his hat-brim, and swaying about in the narrow door-way, like a statue on a ball and socket. "Lorimer," said Sir Oliver, "what do you know of Lennox--corporal Lennox?"