"Coming, sir,"--while he bustled to gather up the ink, a precious article on board, with his pen, and to shovel it into the bottle again; but he did not come great speed this way, so he next tried a tea-spoon. "Lennox!" "Coming, sir." "Coming? why, do come, man, and give me a glass of water, will you?" "This instant, sir--beg pardon, sir--but--but"-- By this he had got his papers stowed away, and made his appearance with his trowsers covered with ink. I looked at him; he was blushing to the eyes. "Why, what _have_ you been after? You have spilled all my ink, I see--writing love-letters, I suppose?"--In his bashfulness he here drew his hand across his face, and thereby transferred a good dash of the "best Japan" to his nose and cheeks, the effect of which was so absurd that I could not help laughing outright.--"You are an author, perhaps?" He blushed still deeper, and seeing I waited for an answer, rapped out, "I am, sir, in a small way." "The deuce!" said I, rather surprised that I should have hit the right nail on the head thus unexpectedly; "and pray, what works have you produced--what walk in literature have you especially followed out?" "The novel line, lately, sir, but"---- "The novel line! A _novel_ line, certainly, for a corporal of marines," said I, interrupting him rather sneeringly.--"Pray, who and what were you before you joined Gazelle, Lennox; that is, if you have no objections to tell?" He did not make me a direct answer. "You have been very kind to me, sir," said the poor fellow, "and have more than once stood my friend, when, Heaven knows, I was desolate enough; indeed, if it had not been for you, Mr Brail, I would have gone overboard, some dark night, with a cold shot at my feet; for the Devil, who is always busy with desperate men, has been near getting the upper hand aftener than I will stay the noo to tell. But as I was saying,"--and here a large tear rolled down his face, through ink and all,--"I am bound to you, sir, and if you have any desire to know who I am, or what I have been, I am ready to tell you." I was a little moved at this, as I had no idea that any little service I had rendered the poor fellow should have been so gratefully remembered. "Why, Lennox, I have done no more to you, nor for you, than I hope every right-hearted man would have done to an inferior; but I will not deny that I have such a desire." He put into my hands a dirty roll of paper. "Your honour has been very patient with me; but I hope I know my place better than to weary you with a long story; so, referring you to the manuscript, which you may read or not as you please, I will, with your permission--go and kill the pig, and then help the cook to scrape potatoes in the galley."