The other nodded, and turned to resume his quiet stroll at a pace which made the mate hot to look at him. “He’ll have to look sharp if he’s going to catch her now,” he said thoughtfully. “He won’t catch her,” said Henry; “he never does—leastways if he does he only passes and looks at her out of the corner of his eye. He writes letters to her of a night, but he never gives ’em to her.” “How do you know?” demanded the other. “Cos I look at ’im over his shoulder while I’m puttin’ things in the cupboard,” said Henry. The mate stopped and regarded his hopeful young friend fixedly. “I s’pose you look over my shoulder too, sometimes?” he suggested. “You never write to anybody except your wife,” said Henry carelessly, “or your mother. Leastways I’ve never known you to.” “You’ll come to a bad end, my lad,” said the mate thickly; “that’s what you’ll do.” “What ’e does with ’em I can’t think,” continued Henry, disregarding his future. “’E don’t give ’em to ’er. Ain’t got the pluck, I s’pose. Phew! Ain’t it ’ot!” They had got down to the river again, and he hesitated in front of a small beer-shop whose half open door and sanded floor offered a standing invitation to passers-by. “Could you do a bottle o’ ginger-beer?” inquired the mate, attracted in his turn. “No,” said Henry shortly, “I couldn’t. I don’t mind having what you’re going to have.” The mate grinned, and, leading the way in, ordered refreshment for two, exchanging a pleasant wink with the proprietor as that humorist drew the lad’s half-pint in a quart pot. “Ain’t you goin’ to blow the head off, sir?” inquired the landlord as Henry, after glancing darkly into the depths and nodding to the mate, buried his small face in the pewter. “You’ll get your moustache all mussed up if you don’t.” The boy withdrew his face, and, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, regarded the offender closely. “So long as it don’t turn it red I don’t mind,” he said patiently, “and I don’t think as ’ow your swipes would hurt anythin’.” He went out, followed by the mate, leaving the landlord wiping down the counter with one hand while he mechanically stroked his moustache with the other. By the time a suitable retort occurred to him the couple were out of earshot. CHAPTER II Captain Wilson, hot with the combined effects of exercise and wrath, continued the pursuit, but the pause to say sweet nothings to the second in command was fatal to his success. He had often before had occasion to comment ruefully upon the pace of the quarry, and especially at such times when he felt that he had strung his courage almost up to speaking point. To-day he was just in time to see her vanish into the front garden of a small house, upon the door of which she knocked with expressive vigor. She disappeared into the house just as he reached the gate. “Damn the mate!” he said irritably—“and the boy,” he added, anxious to be strictly impartial.