"Hold your tongue!" said Atwater, sternly. "You are all more to blame than he is. Of course, a boy of his age will do what he sees older ones do. It's a shame to get his money and watch away from him so." And the honest fellow went and sat by Frank, and tried to console him. "Go away! go away!" said Frank, in his anguish. "Don't trouble yourself about such a miserable fool as I am. I deserve it all. Let me be!" Atwater, who was sadly deficient in what is called the gift of gab, had no soothing words at his command, full as his heart was of compassion. And after sitting some time by the unhappy boy, patting him softly on the shoulder, he arose, and went away; concluding that his absence would be a relief to one so utterly miserable. Then Seth Tucket came, and took his place. "That's always the way with bad luck, I swan," he said, sympathizingly. "Misfortunes always come in heaps. It never rains but it pours." "I wish you'd let me alone!" said the boy, peevishly. "That's fair, I swan!" said Seth. "But le' me tell ye. Ef I hed won the watch, I'd give it back to ye in a minute. But Harris is the winner, and I've only the watch now to show for my money. But here's a half dollar to begin again with. You know what luck is at cards,--how it shifts, now this way, now that, like a cow's tail in fly-time,--and I hain't the least doubt but with that half dollar you'll win back all your money, and your watch too." The offer was kindly meant; and it encouraged a little spark of comfort in Frank's heart. To win back his losses--that was his only hope. He took the money, silently pressing Seth's hand. After that he struggled to forget his grief in thoughts of his former good fortune, which he believed would now return to him. XVII. IN WHICH FRANK SEES STRANGE THINGS. In this frame of mind, Frank went on deck. He saw the old drum-major coming towards him. Being in any thing but a social mood, he tried to avoid him; and turning his back, walked away. But the veteran followed, and came to his side. "Well, my young man," said the old cynic, exhibiting a little agitation, and speaking in a hurried tone, unusual with him, "I hear brave tidings of you." His voice sounded harsh and sarcastic to the irritated boy; and, indeed, there was resentment enough in the veteran's breast, as well as a bitter sense of injury and disappointment, as he spoke. Frank, nursing his sore heart, the wounds of which he could not bear to have touched by the most friendly hand, compressed his lips together, and made no reply. "So you have been really gambling--have you?" added the old man, in tones of suppressed emotion. "That's my business," said Frank, curtly.