They were not absolutely penniless, however; for, in addition to a good serviceable suit of clothes apiece out of the slop-chest, Captain Singleton had insisted upon George's accepting a ten-pound note, to meet their more immediate needs, and, being in a friendly port now, the two seamen had very little doubt of getting employment of some kind or other before long. Their idea was first to make the round of the various shipping agents' offices, and endeavour to obtain a berth on a homeward-bound ship. If that failed, then George thought they might possibly, aided by Captain Singleton's influence, obtain work in the dockyard at Port Royal; and, if the worst came to the worst, they could always depend with absolute certainty upon being received on board a man-o'-war. In pursuance of the first-mentioned plan, they were wending their way along the street, when, as they passed the entrance to a large general store, they were violently jostled by a man who was making his exit from the place with considerable precipitation. "Beg pardon, shipmates, no damage done, I hope. I ought to have kept a better lookout when crowding sail to the extent--why--why--no, it _can't_ be; and yet--hang me if it _ain't_, after all. Well, this _is_ a pleasant surprise, and no mistake. Cap'n, how are ye? And you, Tom, how did them damned slave-drivers treat you?" It was Mr Bowen, the late chief mate of the _Aurora_. He was dressed in the somewhat rough garb of the mate of a coasting schooner, but was looking well and hearty nevertheless, and certainly had nothing of the appearance of a man who had recently been suffering the horrors of slavery. George and Tom both shook hands heartily with their old friend, and then Mr Bowen--who seemed to be pretty well acquainted with the town--led the way into a quiet, respectable tavern near the water-side. Having called for some sangaree in honour of the unexpected and very agreeable meeting, George, at his friend's request, proceeded to recount all that had happened since the eventful morning when they were separated (for life, as each then feared) in the square at Havana. When he had finished the story, he added-- "And now, Bowen, my dear old friend, let us know how _you_ fared among the Dons."