"Well, George, here's a pair of white flannel `bags,' and a ditto shirt--they're my old cricketing `togs;' but I thought they'd come in useful during the voyage, and so left 'em out. Here's a jacket, rather the worse for wear, and that stupid fellow, the second steward, capsized a plate of soup over it the other night--see, there are the stains, down the right shoulder and arm! But you won't mind that?" "Not a bit," put in George, taking the unlucky garment. "I've learnt not to be over particular." "There's a collar, a cravat, and a pair of socks; and there's a pair of shoes--nice, easy ones, too. Now, look alive, old chap; slip 'em on, and then we'll go and get some grub." Rattling on in this manner, Tom helped his new friend to dress--or fitted him out "from truck to kelson," as he expressed it; for Tom had become very nautical in his language since he joined the _Surat Castle_--and then surveyed him with a critical eye. "Come, that's not so bad! you look less like an ancient Briton now," said he, crowning young Weston with a cricket cap upon which was embroidered the school-house badge. "Feel a bit queer though at first, eh, George Maurice?" "Rather so," George answered, wriggling himself. "The shoes and socks are the worst. You see I've gone barefoot for such a precious long time. However, I shall no doubt get accustomed to them in a day or two." "Of course you will," assented Tom. "Now come along and I'll introduce you to the ladies; we have five on board--three married women and two girls. Won't they make a fuss over you and that little sister of yours!" When our hero and his friend made their appearance on deck they found Mr Weston (now shaven and shorn, and clad in a suit of true nautical cut, the property of Mr Weatherhelm) standing near the skylight talking to the skipper and Mr Rogerson, the chief mate of the _Surat Castle_. "Halloa!" he exclaimed, catching sight of his son's head-gear. "I ought to know that cap." "It is the Rugby school-house cap," said its owner with conscious pride. "We have only lately worn them; but I've heard old school-house men say that they were introduced years ago--long before Arnold's time--but dropped out after a while." "That's quite right," rejoined Mr Weston. "I am an old Rugby boy myself, and well remember the school-house badge being introduced. It must be nearly five-and-thirty years ago," he added with a sigh, "when I was about little Grade's age." "Why!" Tom cried, his interest in the family increasing fourfold, "you must have been at Rugby with my father! Flinders is his name--Major--" "Not dear old Matthew Flinders surely?" interrupted the other, "who afterwards went into the Cape Rifles?" "The same," answered Tom, nodding his head. "Did you know him?" "Know Mat Flinders! Why, my dear boy, your father was the best and truest friend I ever had! But it is many, many years since we met. You must tell me all about him."