“Well, I’m spinning a fine yarn, William,” continued Captain O’Loughlin, knocking his ashes out of his pipe; “but you see, I wanted to show you how small a thing alters one’s destiny in this world. If I had not read ‘Robinson Crusoe,’ I very likely should have been a shoemaker, and if the pole-chain of Sir Oscar de Bracy’s carriage had not broken, I should never have obtained the rank of a lieutenant in His Majesty’s Royal navy. I’m not going to weary you with any more of my story, but sum up, as the lawyers say. Captain Sir Oscar de Bracy’s ship, the Redoubtable, sixty-four guns, and three frigates, were at anchor in Bantry Bay. When he returned, after leaving his lady at an estate of his near Glengariff, he took me on board with him, and we sailed for Portsmouth, where he put me to a public school, and there I had to fight my way, and found out that my big fist was both father and mother to me, for I pummelled every young urchin’s head that cast a slur upon my country, or my orphan state. When fourteen I was appointed a midshipman on board the Concord frigate, through the interest of Sir Oscar de Bracy, and then, after passing my examination—I may say with _éclat_—I was appointed acting-lieutenant of the same ship, and finally third-lieutenant of the Victory. My kind patron is, however, and has been for years, governor of ——, in the East Indies, and I heard that he lost his wife and little boy in a most melancholy manner. From the period of my being put to school in Portsmouth, I have never seen him. He took a most affectionate leave of me, told me his lawyer had instructions to provide me with everything, and ample pocket-money; and finally, when I passed my examination, Mr. Bodletop, the lawyer, handed me £500, which he said Sir Oscar de Bracy had left directions for him to do, and trusted that I would be an honour to my country and my noble profession. My heart is full of deep and lasting gratitude to that generous-hearted man, and most acutely I feel his deplorable loss of wife and child so shortly after, as it appears, my saving the child’s life.” There was a long pause, broken by the Commander saying, as he turned and looked with surprise upon his young comrade, “Why, what the deuce are you thinking of, William; you look taken aback?” “I did not interrupt you, Patrick,” replied our hero, thoughtfully, “because your brief history has surprised me, and filled my mind with vague ideas and thoughts, a gleam of hope, and a confusion of surmises that bewilder me.” “The deuce it does,” returned the Commander; “what have I said to bewilder you? Are you in love?” “No,” said the young man, with a smile; “but one thing I will observe to you first. You said your protector was called Sir Oscar de Bracy.” “So I say still, William. What then?”