Captain Hemming had a sincere regard and respect for Jack, as Jack had for him. They had both seen each other well tried and never found wanting, and they could thus converse frankly and without reserve. Neither Hemming nor Jack were people to talk without fully intending to perform. Indeed, those who knew them felt sure that when dash or cool courage, or perseverance and intelligence, were especially required, they would show that they possessed them all. Jack liked his ship and most of his brother officers, as well as his captain, and was a general favourite with them. He had brought two companions, Adair's old African follower, Queerface, which he had given to Jack; and a fine Newfoundland dog, Sancho by name. Jack had intended leaving Queerface at home, as Paddy remarked, to remind his brothers and sisters of him. The compliment was somewhat doubtful. But the monkey had played so many curious tricks, and had committed so much mischief, that no one would undertake the charge of him; and therefore, like a bad boy, he was sent off to sea again in disgrace. As was natural, Sancho and Queerface became very intimate, though not at the same time perfectly friendly. Each, it appeared, was striving for the mastery. Queerface, monkey though he was, gained the day; and one of his great amusements was to mount Sancho's back, and to make him run round and round the deck with him, whipping him on and chattering away all the time most vociferously, to the great amusement of the seamen, if not always to that of the first lieutenant. Jack had another charge to look after, a young midshipman, Harry Bevan by name, who had been especially committed to his charge. The little fellow had been a petted somewhat spoilt child, an only son, yet go to sea he would; and his parents never had refused him anything, so they let him have his will, though it almost broke their hearts. Jack promised to take the best care of him he could. Harry was not exactly a pickle, but he had very little notion of taking care of himself; so Jack had quite enough to do to look after him, in addition to Queerface and Sancho. Harry and Sancho were very great friends, but Queerface evidently looked upon him as a rival in his master's affections, and bore him no good-will. This feeling of the monkey was increased by the tricks which the young midshipman played him whenever he had the opportunity. At last he was never able to approach Queerface without a rope in his hand, which he held behind his back, or doubled up in his pocket. The monkey, in the most sagacious way, would skip about till he had ascertained whether the weapon was there or not. If it was there, as soon as he caught sight of it, he would spring up into the rigging and sit on a ratline, as quiet and demure as a judge, without attempting to retaliate.