Captain Olding had come up to the house to inquire after his lieutenant. He and Captain Tracy had been shipmates in their younger days. He was well pleased, he said, to be able to forward the views of his friend's son. It was therefore settled that Gerald should join the _Champion_ at once, and Norah was busy from morning till night in preparing his outfit. Captain Tracy was now able to get about, and even to superintend the repairs of the _Ouzel Galley_. He secretly was somewhat proud of having a son belonging to the Royal Navy. It was the road to honour and fame; Gerald might some day become one of England's admirals. Still, had the captain intended to continue at sea himself, he would have wished to keep his boy with him, and he would also gladly have had him accompany Owen Massey. Gerald himself was in high glee; he made frequent trips down to the _Champion_, and always came back with some fresh account of what she had done, and of what his future messmates, the midshipmen, fully expected she would do. He described them to Norah as first-rate, jolly fellows, up to all sorts of fun. "And you may tell Miss Ferris, if you like," he added, "that they all say there isn't a more gallant officer in the service than Lieutenant Foley, and they hope that he'll soon get well and rejoin the ship. They don't speak quite so favourably of her first lieutenant, Jonah Tarwig, who seems as if he had swallowed the mizen-royal-mast as he was looking aloft one stormy night when the ship was taken aback and it was carried away. He is six feet two in height--how he manages to stow himself in his berth it is hard to say, but it is supposed that he doubles his legs back, for as to coiling away his body, that would be impossible. The master, old Billhook, is a rough diamond, but he understands navigation, and spins tough yarns by the score; I'll tell you some of them one of these days. The purser, Simon Cheeseparings--that isn't his real name-- was a slopseller in Wapping, but outran his creditors and had to come to sea to escape from Newgate; and the doctor's a Scotchman whose name begins with Mac, and for brevity's sake Mac he is always called. Now you know all about the gun-room officers; but the best fellows, out and out, are in our berth. We've got two old mates, Beater and Crowhurst-- at least, they are old compared to the rest of us, and they are always complaining that they are not port-admirals. Their characters answer to their names, for Beater is never without a cob in his hand, and he uses it pretty freely; and Crowhurst is always boasting of his own mighty deeds or those of his ancestors--and if you are to take his word for it, they (his ancestors, I mean) came over with William the Conqueror, and ought to be dukes at the least. However, putting their peculiarities aside, they're capital fellows, and, if they have an opportunity, will show that they have the true metal in them--so my chum, Nat Kiddle, says.