But we, who already recognise in William Trace our friend Hilton Riddell, feel no surprise whatever, unless it be at his temerity in offering himself for a post concerning the duties of which he knew positively nothing. When, on attempting to engage a berth as passenger in the “Merry Maid,” he found his application rejected, he straightway resolved to change his disguise; and having found that the ship had not her full complement of men, and could not sail until morning, he resolved to apply to the mate to be taken on as steward. The mate, without much inquiry, gave him the post, and had already repented of his indiscretion, for a man may have a great deal of natural aptitude, and yet fail utterly at a post that is quite strange to him. It was so with William Trace, and he had already learnt the savour of a seaman’s invective. It may have hurt his pride a little to hear himself called a fraud and a duffer, and to have a number of burning adjectives hurled at his head every day. But, in view of his recent discoveries, he is inclined to condone these offences against his self-respect. Unfortunately for him, he has forgotten to lower the piece of cardboard with which he is wont to cover the peephole which overlooks the captain’s berth. From such simple oversights do tragedies spring. CHAPTER VI. A MYSTERIOUS DISAPPEARANCE. Late that evening the steward of the “Merry Maid” was sitting in his berth, writing. The accommodation at his disposal was of the most meagre kind. It included neither desk nor table, for which, by-the-bye, the tiny place would not have had room if they had been available. By way of a substitute, however, his washstand, which was of the sort commonly considered quite luxurious enough for a seafarer, was fitted with a deal top, and upon this he had spread the wherewithal to write a long letter. He sat upon his campstool and applied himself very diligently to his work, covering sheet after sheet with minute writing. Actually, he was writing a very detailed account of all that had transpired after he left home to enter upon the duties of an amateur detective. Having made his budget of news as complete and circumstantial as possible, he folded the papers upon which he had written into a long, thin roll. Then he reached out of the drawer under his bunk an empty wine bottle. He had evidently prepared it for the occasion, for it was quite clean and dry. Into this receptacle he thrust his roll of paper. Then he corked the bottle, and wired the cork firmly down, tying over all a piece of washleather, in order to prevent the possibility of the entrance of sea-water into the bottle. His next proceeding was to open the port, and to lower the bottle through it into the water, through which the “Merry Maid” was running at the rate of ten knots an hour--not at all bad for an ordinary ocean tramp, as the class of vessels to which the “Merry Maid” belonged is often called.