As his mother was in no peril, and wished to be alone, Louis went on deck. The accomplished Mr. Fobbington was still at the wheel, and the two sailors were on the forecastle. The cook appeared to be getting dinner in his galley. He walked the whole length of the vessel, looked into the hold or between-decks, as the space seemed to be to him; but he could find nothing of Captain Ringgold and Felix. They had strangely disappeared. The stylish owner of the Oxford had changed his garments, laying aside his nobby suit of black for one of blue, daubed with grease, tar, and dirt. Louis was able to understand by this time why the hands of the elegant gentleman he had met at the hotel were so little in keeping with his fastidious appearance in every other respect. Fobbington’s face was still that of the gentleman who spoke French so fluently; but that was all there was left of him outwardly. He looked as good-natured as when Louis met him on the piazza, and he approached him, hoping to ascertain what had become of his two companions. “_Eh bien?_” (well) “Monsieur Fobbington?” said he, approaching the betrothed of the daughter of Sir William Lambold, baronet. “_Eh bien_,” replied the wheelman. “But, my dear little bantam, you need not trouble yourself to call me Fobbington any longer, for the name is rather too long for every-day use. My name is simply Wilson Frinks, and Fobbington is only a swell name; but there is not the slightest need of using it here.” “Then you change your name as you do your costume,” replied Louis, who thought the fellow, whatever he was, had coolness and impudence enough to fit out any scoundrel for such an enterprise as he was likely to undertake. “Well, it takes a little time to change my dress; but I can change my name in the twinkling of an eye,” replied Frinks, as pleasantly as though they were still on the piazza of the hotel. “If you have a pencil and paper in your pocket, you might amuse yourself by figuring up how much time you could save in a month’s voyage by saying Frinks instead of Fobbington, for it takes just three times as long to utter the latter as the former.” “No doubt that would be a very interesting calculation; but I am not in the mood just now to cipher it out,” answered Louis, looking about him to obtain more information in regard to the situation. “I hope you are quite contented and happy on board of the Oxford,” added Frinks with a smiling face, which appeared to represent his satisfaction at the success of the scheme he had brought to a termination. “Perfectly happy, my dear fellow; in fact, I am in a state of ecstasy.” “I am very glad to hear you say so. I took you for a magnificent fellow, and I did not believe you would groan or sulk under any possible change of circumstances. I am always happy, and I am especially so at the present time.”