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“Good evening, mates,” said the linesman, gazing curiously and anxiously round him as he deposited a bundle on the table, and laid his swagger cane beside it.

“What’s your height?” inquired Joe abruptly. “Seven foot?”

“No, only six foot four,” said the new arrival, modestly. “I’m not proud of it. It’s much easier for a small man to slip off than a big one.”

“It licks me,” said Joe thoughtfully, “what they want ’em back for–I should think they’d be glad to git rid o’ such”–he paused a moment while politeness struggled with feeling, and added, “skunks.”

“P’raps I’ve a reason for being a skunk, p’raps I haven’t,” retorted Private Smith, as his face fell.

“This’ll be your bunk,” interposed Dan hastily; “put your things in there, and when you are in yourself you’ll be as comfortable as a oyster in its shell.”

The visitor complied, and, first extracting from the bundle some tins of meat and a bottle of whiskey, which he placed upon the table, nervously requested the honour of the present company to supper. With the exception of Joe, who churlishly climbed back into his bunk, the men complied, all agreeing that boys of Billy’s age should be reared on strong teetotal principles.

Supper over, Private Smith and his protectors retired to their couches, where the former lay in much anxiety until two in the morning, when they got under way.

“It’s all right, my lad,” said Dan, after the watch had been set, as he came and stood by the deserter’s bunk; “I ‘ve saved you–I’ve saved you for twenty-five shillings.”

“I wish it was more,” said Private Smith politely.

The old man sighed–and waited.

“I’m quite cleaned out, though,” continued the deserter, “except fi’pence ha’penny. I shall have to risk going home in my uniform as it is.”

“Ah, you’ll get there all right,” said Dan cheerfully; “and when you get home no doubt you ‘ve got friends, and if it seems to you as you ‘d like to give a little more to them as assisted you in the hour of need, you won’t be ungrateful, my lad, I know. You ain’t the sort.”

With these words old Dan, patting him affectionately, retired, and the soldier lay trying to sleep in his narrow quarters until he was aroused by a grip on his arm.

“If you want a mouthful of fresh air you ‘d better come on deck now,” said the voice of Joe; “it’s my watch. You can get all the sleep you want in the daytime.”

Glad to escape from such stuffy quarters, Private Smith clambered out of his bunk and followed the other on deck. It was a fine clear night, and the schooner was going along under a light breeze; the seaman took the wheel, and, turning to his companion, abruptly inquired what he meant by deserting and worrying them with six foot four of underdone lobster.

“It’s all through my girl,” said Private Smith meekly; “first she jilted me, and made me join the army; now she’s chucked the other fellow, and wrote to me to go back.”

“An’ now I s’pose the other chap’ll take your place in the army,” said Joe. “Why, a gal like that could fill a regiment, if she liked. Pah! They’ll nab you too, in that uniform, and you’ll get six months, and have to finish your time as well.”

“It’s more than likely,” said the soldier gloomily. “I’ve got to tramp to Manchester in these clothes, as far as I can see.”

“What did you give old Dan all your money for?” inquired Joe.

“I was only thinking of getting away at first,” said Smith, “and I had to take what was offered.”

“Well, I’ll do what I can for you,” said the seaman. “If you’re in love, you ain’t responsible for your actions. I remember the first time I got the chuck. I went into a public-house bar, and smashed all the glass and bottles I could get at. I felt as though I must do something. If you were only shorter, I’d lend you some clothes.”