The Battery and the Boiler/part 2

 

VARIOUS SUBJECTS TREATED OF, AND A GREAT FIGHT DETAILED.

It was the habit of Robin and his friends at this time, the weather being extremely fine and cool, to sit at the month of their cavern of an evening, chatting about the events of the day, or the prospects of the future, or the experiences of the past, while old Meerta busied herself preparing supper over a fire kindled on the ground.

No subject was avoided on these occasions, because the friends were harmoniously minded, in addition to which the sweet influences of mingled star-light and fire-light, soft air, and lovely prospect of land and sea—to say nothing of the prospect of supper—all tended to induce a peaceful and forbearing spirit.

"Well, now," said Robin, continuing a subject which often engaged their intellectual powers, "it seems to me simple enough."

"Simple!" exclaimed Johnson, with a half sarcastic laugh, "w'y, now, you an' the doctor 'ave ​tried to worrit that electricity into my brain for many months, off an' on, and I do believe as I 'm more muddled about it to-night than I was at the beginnin'."

"P'raps it 's because you hain't got no brains to work upon," suggested Slagg.

"P'r'aps it is," humbly admitted the seaman. "But look here, now, doctor," he added, turning to Sam with his brow knotted up into an agony of mental endeavour, and the forefinger of one hand thrust into the palm of the other,—"look here. You tells me that electricity ain't a substance at all."

"Yes, that 's so," assented Sam with a nod.

"Wery good. Now, then, if it ain't a substance at all, it's nothin'. An' if it's nothin', how can you go an' talk of it as somethin' an' give it a name, an' tell me it works the telegraph, an' does all manner of wonderful things?"

"But it does not follow that a thing must be nothing because it isn't a substance. Don't you see, man, that an idea is something, yet it is not a substance. Thought, which is so potent a factor in this world, is not a substance, yet it cannot be called nothing. It is a condition—it is the result of brain-atoms in action. Electricity is sometimes described as an 'invisible imponderable fluid,' but that is not quite correct, because a fluid is a substance. It is a better definition to say that ​electricity is a manifestation of energy—a result of substance in action."

"There, I 'm muddled again!" said Johnson, with a look of hopeless incapacity.

"Small blame to you, Johnson," murmured Slagg, who had done his best to understand, while Stumps sat gazing at the speakers with an expression of blank complacency.

"Look here, Johnson," said Sam, "you 've often seen men shaking a carpet, haven't you?"

"In coorse I have."

"Well, have you not observed the waves of the carpet that roll along it when shaken?"

"Yes, I have."

"What are these waves?"

"Well, sir, I should say they was the carpet," replied Johnson.

"No, the waves are not the carpet. When the waves reach the end of the carpet they disappear. If the waves were the carpet, the carpet would disappear. The same waves in a whip, soft and undulating though they be, result in a loud crack, as you know."

"Muddled again," said Johnson.

"Ditto," said Slagg.

"Why, I 'm not muddled a bit!" suddenly exclaimed Stumps, with a half-contemptuous laugh.

"Of coorse you 're not," retorted Slagg. ​"Brainless things never git into that state. You never heard of a turnip bein' muddled, did you?"

Stumps became vacant, and Sam went on.

"Well, you see, the waves are not substance. They are a condition—a result of atoms in motion. Now, when the atoms of a substance are disturbed by friction, or by chemical action, they get into a state of violent commotion, and try wildly to fly from, or to, each other. This effort to fly about is energy. When the atoms get into a very intense state of commotion they have a tendency to induce explosion, unless a way of escape is found—escape for the energy, not for the atoms. Now, when you cause chemical disturbance in an electric battery, the energy thus evolved is called electricity, and we provide a conductor of escape for it in the shape of a copper or other metal wire, which we may carry to any distance we please, and the energy runs along it, as the wave runs along the carpet, as long as you keep up the commotion in the battery among the excited atoms of copper and zinc."

"Mud—no, not quite. I have got a glimmer o' su'thin'," said Johnson.

"Ditto," said Slagg.

"Supper," said old Meerta.

"Ha! that 's the battery for me," cried Stumps, jumping up.

"Not a bad one either," said Robin, as they ​entered the cave; "alternate plates of beef and greens, steeped in some such acid as lemonade, cause a wonderful commotion in the atoms of the human body.,"

"True, Robin, and the energy thereby evolved," said Sam, "sometimes bursts forth in brilliant sparks of wit—to say nothing of flashes of absurdity."

"An' thunderin' stoopidity," added Slagg.

Further converse on the subject was checked at that time by what Sam termed the charging of the human batteries. The evening meal went on in silence and very pleasantly for some time, but before its close it was interrupted in an alarming manner by the sudden entrance of Letta with wild excitement in her eyes.

"Oh!" she cried, pointing back to the entrance of the cave, "a ship!—pirate ship coming!"

A bombshell could scarcely have produced greater effect. Each individual leaped up and darted out, flushing deep red or turning pale, according to temperament. They were not long in verifying the statement. A ledge of rocks concealed the entrance to the cavern from the sea. Over its edge could be seen the harbour in which they had found the vessel whose total destruction has been described; and there, sure enough, they beheld a similar vessel, though considerably smaller, in ​the act of furling her sails and dropping anchor. There could be no doubt as to her character, for although too distant to admit of her crew being distinguished by star-light, her rig and general appearance betrayed her.

"Not a moment to be lost, Robin," said Sam Shipton hurriedly, as he led the way back to the cavern, where old Meerta and blind Bungo, aided by Letta, had already cleared away all evidence of the late feast, leaving only three tin cups and three pewter plates on the table, with viands appropriate thereto.

"Ha! you 're a knowing old lady," exclaimed Sam, "you understand how to help us, I see."

"Me tink so!" replied Meerta, with an intelligent nod. "On'y us free here. All de pyrits gone away. Dem sinners on'y come here for a feed—p'r'aps for leetil poodre. Soon go away."

"Just so," said Sam, "meanwhile we will hide, and return after they are gone, or, better still, if you, Letta, and Bungo will come and hide with us, I 'll engage to lay a train of powder from the barrels inside to somewhere outside, and blow the reptiles and the whole mountain into the sea! There 's powder enough to do it."

"You tink me one divl?" demanded the old woman indignantly. "No, some o' dem pyrits not so bad as each oder. You let 'em alone; me let you alone."

​This gentle intimation that Meerta had their lives in her hand, induced Sam to ask modestly what she would have him do.

"Go," she replied promptly, "take rifles, swords, an' poodre. Hide till pyrits go 'way. If de finds you—fight. Better fight dan be skin alive!"

"Unquestionably," said Sam, with a mingled laugh and shudder, in which his companions joined—as regards the shudder at least, if not the laugh.

Acting promptly on the suggestion, Sam armed himself and his comrades each with a good breech-loading rifle, as much ammunition as he could conveniently carry, and an English sword. Then, descending the mountain on the side opposite to the harbour they disappeared in the dark and tangled underwood of the palm-grove. Letta went a short distance with them.

"They won't kill Meerta or blind Bungo," she said, on the way down. "They 're too useful, though they often treat them badly. Meerta sent me away to hide here the last time the strange bad men came. She thinks I go hide to-night, but I won't; so, good-night."

"But surely you don't mean to put yourself in the power of the pirates?" said Robin.

"No, never fear," returned the child with a laugh. "I know how to see them without they see me."

​Before further remonstrance could be made, the active child had bounded up the pathway and disappeared.

Not long after Sam and his comrades had taken their departure, the pirates came up to the cavern in a body—about forty of them—well armed and ready to fight if need be. They were as rascally a set of cut-throats as one could desire to see—or, rather, not to see—of various nationality, with ugly countenances and powerful frames, which were clothed in more or less fantastic Eastern garb. Their language, like themselves, was mixed, and, we need scarcely add, unrefined. The little that was interchanged between them and Meerta we must, however, translate.

"What! alive still!" cried the ruffian, who appeared to be the leader of the band, flinging himself down on a couch with the air of a man who knew the place well, while his men made themselves at home.

Meerta merely smiled to the salutation; that is to say, she grinned.

"Where are they?" demanded the pirate-chief, referring of course to those who, the reader is aware, were blown up.

"Gone away," answered Meerta.

"Far away?" asked the pirate.

"Yes, very far away."

​"Goin' to be long away?"

"Ho! yes, very long."

"Where's the little girl they took from Sarawak?"

"Gone away."

"Where away?"

"Don't know."

"Now, look here, you old hag," said the pirate, drawing a pistol from his belt and levelling it, "tell the truth about that girl, else I 'll scatter your brains on the floor. Where has she gone to?"

"Don't know," repeated Meerta, with a look of calm indifference, as she took up a tankard and wiped it out with a cloth.

The man steadied the pistol and pressed the trigger.

"You better wait till she has given us our grub," quietly suggested one of the men.

The leader replaced the weapon in the shawl which formed his girdle, and said, "Get it ready quick—the best you have, and bring us some wine to begin with."

Soon after that our friends, while conversing in low tones in the grove, heard the unmistakeable sounds of revelry issue from the cave.

"What think you, boys," said Sam suddenly, "shall we go round to the harbour, surprise and kill the guard, seize the pirate-ship, up anchor and leave these villains to enjoy themselves as best they may?"

​"What! and leave Letta, not to mention Meerta and Bungo, behind us? Never!"

"I forgot them for the moment," said Sam. "No; we can't do that."

As he spoke the noise of revelry became louder and degenerated into sounds of angry disputation. Then several shots were heard, followed by the clashing of steel and loud yells.

"Surely that was a female voice," said Robin, rising and rushing up the steep path that led to the cavern, closely followed by his comrades.

They had not gone a hundred yards when they were arrested by hearing a rustling in the bushes and the sound of hasty footsteps. Next instant Letta was seen running towards them, with glaring eyes and streaming hair. She sprang into Robin's arms with a convulsive sob, and hid her white face on his breast.

"Speak, Letta, dear child! Are you hurt?"

"No, O no; but Meerta, darling Meerta, she is dead! They have shot her and Bungo."

She burst again into convulsive sobbing.

"Dead! But are you sure—quite sure?" said Sam.

"Quite. I saw their brains scattered on the wall. Oh, Meerta!—"

She ended in a low wail, as though her heart were broken.

​"Now, boys," said Johnson, who had hitherto maintained silence, "we must go to work an' try to cut out the pirate-ship. It 's a good chance, and it 's our only one."

"Yes, there 's nothing to prevent us trying it now," said Robin, sadly, "and the sooner the better."

"Lucky that we made up the parcels last night, warn't it?" said Jim Slagg, as they made hasty arrangements for carrying out their plan.

Jim referred to parcels of rare and costly jewels which each of them had selected from the pirate store, put into separate bags and hid away in the woods, to be ready in case of any sudden occasion arising—such as had now actually arisen—to quit the island. Going to the place where these bags were concealed, they slung them over their shoulders and set off at a steady run, or trot, for the harbour, each taking his turn in carrying Letta, for the poor child was not fit to walk, much less to run.

Stealthy though their movements were, however, they did not altogether escape detection. Two bright eyes had been watching Letta during all her wanderings that night, and two nimble feet had followed her when she ran affrighted from the pirates' stronghold. The party was overtaken before half the distance to the harbour had been gained, and at length, with a cry of satisfaction, ​Letta's favourite—the small monkey—sprang upon her shoulder. In this position, refusing to move, he was carried to the coast.

As had been anticipated, the pirate vessel was found lying in the pool where the former ship had anchored. Being considerably smaller, however, it had been drawn close to the rocks, so that a landing had been effected by means of a broad plank or gangway instead of a boat. Fortunately for our friends, this plank had not been removed after the pirates had left, probably because they deemed themselves in a place of absolute security. As far as they could see, only one sentinel paced the deck.

"I shouldn't wonder if the guard is a very small one," whispered Sam to Robin, as they crept to the edge of the shrubs which lined the harbour, and surveyed their intended prize. "No doubt they expected to meet only with friends here—or with nobody at all, as it has turned out,—and have left just enough to guard their poor slaves."

"We shall soon find out," returned Sam. "Now, boys," he said, on rejoining the others in the bush, "see that your revolvers are charged and handy, but don't use them if you can avoid it."

"A cut over the head with cold steel will be sufficiently effective, for we have no desire to kill. Nevertheless, don't be particular. We can't afford to measure our blows with such scoundrels; only if ​we fire we shall alarm those in the cave, and have less time to get under weigh."

"What is to be done with Letta while we attack?" asked Robin.

"I 'll wait here till you come for me," said Letta, with a sad little smile on her tear-bedewed face; "I 'm quite used to see fighting."

"Good, keep close, and don't move from this spot till we come for you, my little heroine," said Sam. "Now, boys, follow me in single file—tread like mice—don't hurry. There 's nothing like keeping cool."

"Not much use o' saying that to a feller that 's red-hot," growled Slagg, as he stood with a flushed face, a revolver in one hand and a cutlass in the other.

Sam, armed similarly, glided to the extreme verge of the bushes, between which and the water there was a space of about thirty yards. With a quiet cat-like run he crossed this space, rushed up the plank gangway, and leaped upon the deck, with his comrades close at his heels. The sentinel was taken completely by surprise, but drew his sword nevertheless, and sprang at Sam with a shout.

The latter, although not a professional warrior, had been taught singlestick at school, and was an expert swordsman. He parried the pirate's furious thrust, and gave him what is technically termed cut ​No. 1, which clove his turban to the skull and stretched him on the deck. It was a fortunate cut, for the shout had brought up seven pirates, five from below and two from the fore-part of the vessel, where they had been asleep between two guns. With these his comrades were now engaged in mortal combat—three of them having simultaneously attacked Johnson, while two had assailed Jim Slagg.

When Sam turned round the stout sailor had cut down one of his foes, but the other two would probably have proved too much for him if Sam had not instantly engaged one of them. He was a powerful, active man, so that for nearly a minute they cut and thrust at each other without advantage to either, until Sam tried a feint thrust, which he followed up with a tremendous slash at the head. It took effect, and set him free to aid Slagg, who was at the moment in deadly peril, for poor Slagg was no swordsman, and had hitherto foiled his two antagonists by sheer activity and the fury of his assaults. He was quite collected, however, for, even in the extremity of his danger, he had refrained from using his revolver lest he should thereby give the alarm to the pirates on land. With one stroke Sam disposed of one of the scoundrels, and Slagg succeeded in cutting down the other.

Meanwhile our hero, Robin, and Stumps had attacked the two pirates who chanced to be nearest to ​them. The former thought of Letta and her wretched fate if this assault should fail. The thought filled his little body with such a gush of what seemed to him like electric fire, that he leaped on his opponent with the fury of a wild cat, and bore him backward, so that he stumbled over the combings of a hatchway and was thrown flat on the deck —hors de combat.

But Stumps was not so fortunate. Slow in all his movements, and not too courageous in spirit, he gave way before the villain who assailed him. It was not indeed much to his discredit, for the man was much larger, as well as more active and fierce, than himself. A cut from the pirate's sword quickly laid him low, and his antagonist instantly turned on Robin. He was so near at the moment that neither of them could effectively use his weapon. Robin therefore dashed the hilt of his sword into the man's face and grappled with him. It was a most unequal struggle, for the pirate was, as we have said, a huge fellow, while Robin was small and slight. But there were several things in our hero's favour. He was exceedingly tough and wonderfully strong for his size, besides being active as a kitten and brave as a lion. The way that Robin Wright wriggled in that big man's embrace, hammered his nose and eyes with the iron hilt of his cutlass, stuck his knees ​into the pit of his stomach, and assaulted his shins with the toes of boots, besides twisting his left hand into his hair like a vice, was wonderful to behold.

It was all Letta's doing! The more hopeless the struggle felt, the more hapless did Letta's fate appear to Robin, and the more furious did the spirit within rise above its disadvantages. In the whirl of the fight the pirate's head chanced for one moment to be in proximity to a large iron block. Robin observed it, threw all his soul and body into one supreme effort, and launched his foe and himself against the block. Both heads met it at the same moment, and the combatants rolled from each other's grasp. The pirate was rendered insensible, but Robin, probably because of being lighter, was only a little stunned.

Recovering in a moment he sprang up, glanced round, observed that the pirates were almost, if not quite overpowered, and leaped over the bulwarks. A few moments later and he had Letta in his arms. Just then a pistol shot rang in the night air. The last of the pirates who was overpowered chanced to use his fire-arm, though without success. It was fortunate the fight was over, for, now that the alarm had been given, they knew that their chance of escaping was greatly lessened.

"Cut the cable, Slagg. Out with a boat-hook, ​

ROBIN RESCUES LETTA.—Page 255.

​Johnson, ready to shove off. I 'll fetch Letta," cried Sam, springing to the side.

He was almost run down, as he spoke, by Robin with the child in his arms.

"Ha! Robin—well done, my boy. Here, Letta, you understand the language, tell the slaves below to out oars and pull for their lives. It 's their only chance."

The poor creatures, who were bound to the thwarts below deck, had been listening with dull surprise to the fighting on deck—not that fighting was by any means unusual in that vessel, but they must have known that they were in harbour, and that the main body of the pirates were on shore. Still greater was their surprise when they received the above order in the sweet gentle tones of a child's voice.

Whether they deemed her an angel or not we cannot tell, but their belief in her right to command was evinced by their shoving the oars out with alacrity.

A few seconds sufficed to cut the cable, and the gangway fell into the sea with a loud splash as the vessel moved slowly from the land, while Johnson, Robin, and Slagg thrust with might and main at the boat-hooks. The oars could not be dipped or used until the vessel had been separated a few yards from the land, and it was during the delay ​caused by this operation that their greatest danger lay, for already the pirates were heard calling to each other among the cliffs.

"Pull, pull now for life, boys," shouted Sam as he seized the helm.

"Pull, pull now for life, boys," echoed the faithful translator in her silvery tones.

The oars dipped and gurgled through the water. There was no question as to the energy of the poor captives, but the vessel was heavy and sluggish at starting. She had barely got a couple of hundred yards from the shore, when the pirates from the cavern came running tumultuously out of the woods. Perceiving at once that their vessel had been captured, they rushed into the water and swam off, each man with his sword between his teeth.

They were resolute villains, and swam vigorously and fast. Sam knew that if such a swarm should gain the side of the vessel, no amount of personal valour could prevent recapture. He therefore encouraged the slaves to redoubled effort. These responded to the silvery echo, but so short had been the distance gained that the issue seemed doubtful.

"Give 'em a few shots, boys." cried Sam, drawing his own revolver and firing back over the stern. The others followed his example and discharged all their revolvers, but without apparent effect, for the pirates still came on.

​One of the sails had fortunately been left unfurled. At this moment a light puff of air from the land bulged it out, and sensibly increased their speed.

"Hurrah!" shouted Johnson, "lend a hand, boys, to haul taut."

The sail was trimmed, and in a few minutes the vessel glided quickly away from her pursuers.

A loud British cheer announced the fact alike to pirates and slaves, so that the latter were heartened to greater exertion, while the former were discouraged. In a few minutes they gave up the chase with a yell of rage, and turned to swim for the shore.

About a hundred yards from the mouth of the harbour there lay a small islet—a mere rock. Here Sam resolved to leave the pirate guard, none of whom had been quite killed—indeed two of them had tried unsuccessfully to rise during the fight.

"You see," said Sam, as he steered for the rock, "we don't want to have either the doctoring or the killing of such scoundrels. They will be much better with their friends, who will be sure to swim off for them—perhaps use our raft for the purpose, which they will likely find, sooner or later."

They soon ranged up alongside of the island, and in a few minutes the bodies of the pirates were landed and laid there side by side. While they ​were being laid down, the man who had fought with Robin made a sudden and furious grasp at Johnson's throat with one hand, and at his knife with the other, but the seaman was too quick for him. He felled him with a blow of his fist. The others, although still alive, were unable to show fight.

Then, hoisting the mainsail, and directing their course to the northward, our adventurers slipped quietly over the sea, and soon left Pirate Island far out of sight behind them.

DEPARTURE FROM PIRATE ISLAND AND HOPEFUL NEWS AT SARAWAK.

The vessel of which Robin and his friends had thus become possessed, was one of those numerous native pirate ships which did, and we believe still do, infest some parts of the Malay Archipelago—ships which can assume the form and do the work of simple trading vessels when convenience requires, or can hoist the black flag when circumstances favour. It was not laden with anything valuable at the time of its capture. The slaves who wrought at the oars when wind failed, were wretched creatures who had been captured among the various islands, and many of them were in the last stage of exhaustion, having been worked almost to death by their inhuman captors, though a good many were still robust and fresh.

These latter it was resolved to keep still in fetters, as it was just possible that some of them, if freed, might take a fancy to seize the ship and become pirates on their own account. They were treated ​as well as circumstances would admit of, however, and given to understand that they should be landed and set free as soon as possible. Meanwhile, no more work would be required of them than was absolutely necessary. Those of them who were ill were freed at once from toil, carefully nursed by Letta and doctored by Sam.

At first Robin and his comrades sailed away without any definite purpose in view, but after things had been got into order, a council was held and plans were discussed. It was then that Letta mentioned what the pirates in the cavern had said about her having been taken from Sarawak.

"Sarawak!" exclaimed Robin, "why, that's the place that has been owned and governed for many years by an Englishman named Brooke—Sir James Brooke, if I remember rightly, and they call him Rajah Brooke. Perhaps your mother lives there, Letta."

"Where is Sarawak?" asked Stumps, whose injuries in the recent fight were not so severe as had at first been supposed.

"It 's in the island of Borneo," replied Sam; "you 're right, Robin—"

"No, he 's Robin Wright," interrupted Slagg.

"Be quiet, Jim. I think it is highly probable that your parents are there, Letta, and as we have no particular reason for going anywhere else, and ​can't hope to make for England in a tab like this, we will just lay her head for Sarawak."

This was accordingly done, their new course being nor'-east and by east.

It would extend our tale to undue proportions were we to give in detail all the adventures they experienced, dangers they encountered, and hair-breadth escapes they made, between that point on the wide southern ocean and the Malay Archipelago. The reader must be content to skip over the voyage, and to know that they ultimately arrived at the port of Sarawak, where they were kindly treated by a deputy, the Rajah himself being absent at the time.

During the voyage, the subject of finding Letta's parents became one of engrossing and increasing interest,—so much so, indeed, that even electricity and telegraph-cables sank into secondary importance. They planned, over and over again, the way in which they would set about making inquiries, and the various methods which they would adopt in pursuit of their end. They even took to guessing who Letta's parents would turn out to be, and Sam went so far as to invent and relate romantic stories, in which the father and mother of Letta played a conspicuous part. He called them Colonel and Mrs. Montmorenci for convenience, which Slagg reduced to Col. and Mrs. Monty "for short."

​In all this Letta took great delight, chiefly because it held the conversation on that source of undying interest, "mamma," and partly because she entered into the fun and enjoyed the romance of the thing, while, poor child, her hopeful spirit never for a moment doubted that in some form or other the romance would become a reality through Robin, on whom she had bestowed her highest affections—next, of course, to mamma.

On landing at Sarawak, Sam Shipton went direct to the Government offices to report the capture of the pirate vessel and to make inquiries as to Letta's parents, leaving Robin and the others to watch the vessel.

"Isn't it strange," said John Johnson to Robin, as they leaned over the side and looked down into the clear water, "that a Englishman should become a Rajah, and get possession o' this here country?"

"I can give you only a slight reply to that question," replied Robin, "but Sam will enlighten you more than I can; he seems to be acquainted with the Rajah's strange career. All I know is, that he is said to govern the country well."

"Coorious," said Johnson; "I shouldn't like to settle down in sitch a nest o' pirates. Hows'ever, every man to his taste, as Jack said when the shark swallowed his sou'wester. D'ee think it's likely, ​sir, that we 'll find out who the parents o' poor Miss Letta is?"

Robin shook his head. "I 'm not very hopeful. We have so little information to go upon—just one word,—Sarawak! Nevertheless, I don't despair, and I 'll certainly not be beat without trying hard. But here comes Sam; he looks pleased. I think—I hope, he has good news for us."

"I 've got something, but not much," replied Sam to the eager inquiries with which he was assailed. "The gentleman whom I saw knew nothing about a little girl having been kidnapped from this region within the last two or three years, but an old clerk or secretary, who heard us talking about it, came up scratching his nose with the feather of his quill, and humbly said that he had heard something about a girl disappearing at a fire somewhere, though he couldn't recollect the name of the place, as he was ill at the time, besides being new to the country, but he thought there was a Malay, a drunken old fellow, living some five miles inland, who used to talk about something of the sort, and who had, he fancied, been in the service of the people whose house had been burned. But, altogether, he was very hazy on the subject.

"Then we must go and ferret out this old man instantly," said Robin, buttoning up his coat, as if about to commence the journey at once.

​"Too late to-night, Robin," said Sam; "restrain your impatience, my boy. You forget that it sometimes gets dark in these latitudes, and that there are no street lamps on the country roads."

"True, true, Sam. And what said they about our capture?"

"That we must leave it in their hands at present; that they did not know exactly what the Rajah might have to say about it, but that he would be there himself in a few weeks, and decide the matter."

"'Pon my word that 's cool," said Slagg, who came up at the moment; "an' suppose we wants to continue our vyage to England, or Indy, or Chiny?"

"If we do we must continue it by swimming," returned Sam; "but it matters little, for there is a steamer expected to touch here in a few days on her way to India, so we can take passage in her, having plenty of funds—thanks to the pirates!"

"It 's all very well for you to boast of bein' rich," growled Stumps, but I won't be able to afford it."

"Oh! yes you will," returned Robin with a laugh. "The Jews will advance you enough on your jewellery to pay your passage."

"Sarves you right for bein' so greedy," said Slagg.

The greed which Slagg referred to had been ​displayed by Stumps at the time the parcels of coin and precious stones were made up in the cavern for sudden emergency, as before mentioned. On that occasion each man had made up his own parcel, selecting such gems, trinkets, and coin from the pirate horde as suited his fancy. Unfortunately, the sight of so much wealth had roused in the heart of Stumps feelings of avarice, which heretofore had lain dormant, and he stuffed many glittering and superb pieces of jewellery into his bag in a secretive manner, as if half ashamed of his new sensations, and half afraid that his right to them might be disputed.

Afterwards, on the voyage to Borneo, when the bags were emptied and their costly contents examined, it was discovered that many of Stumps's most glittering gems were mere paste—almost worthless—although some of them, of course, were valuable. Stumps was much laughed at, and in a private confabulation of his comrades, it was agreed that they would punish him by contrasting their own riches with his glittering trash, but that at last they would give him a share which would make all the bags equal. This deceptive treatment, however, wrought more severely on Stumps than they had expected, and roused not only jealous but revengeful feelings in his breast.

Next morning, Sam and Robin set off with Letta ​to search for the old Malay, leaving their comrades in charge of the vessel.

There is something inexpressibly delightful to the feelings in passing through the glades and thickets of tropical forests and plantations after a long sea voyage. The nostrils seem to have been specially prepared, by long abstinence from sweet smells, to appreciate the scents and odours of aromatic plants and flowers. The soft shade of foliage, the refreshing green, and the gay colours everywhere, fill the eye with pleasure, not less exquisite than that which fills the ears from the warblings and chatterings of birds, the gentle tones of domestic animals, and the tinkling of rills. The mere solidity of the land, under foot, forms an element of pleasure after the tossings of the restless sea, and all the sweet influences put together tend to rouse in the heart a shout of joy and deep gratitude for a world so beautiful, and for powers so sensitively capable of enjoying it.

Especially powerful were the surrounding influences on our three friends as they proceeded, mile after mile, into the country, and little wonder, for eyes, and nostrils, and ears, which had of late drunk only of the blue heavens and salt sea and the music of the wind, naturally gloated over a land which produces sandal-wood, cinnamon, turmeric, ginger, benzoin, camphor, nutmeg, and a host of ​other gums and spices; a land whose shades are created by cocoa-nut palms, ebony, banana, bread-fruit, gutta-percha, upas, sesamum, and a vast variety of other trees and shrubs, the branches of which are laden with fruits, and flowers, and paroquets, and monkeys.

Little Letta's heart was full to overflowing, so much so that she could scarcely speak while walking along holding Robin's hand. But there was more than mere emotion in her bosom—memory was strangely busy in her brain, puzzling her with dreamy recognitions both as to sights and sounds.

"It's so like home!" she murmured once, looking eagerly round.

"Is it?" said Robin with intense interest. "Look hard at it, little one; do you recognise any object that used to be in your old home?"

The child shook her head sadly. "No, not exactly—everything is so like, and—and yet not like, somehow."

They came just then upon a clearing among sugar-cane, in the midst of which stood a half-ruined hut, quite open in front and thatched with broad leaves. On a bench near the entrance was seated an old grey-haired Malay man with a bottle beside him. Nearer to the visitors a young girl was digging in the ground.

"That 's the old Malay, for certain," said Sam; ​"see, the old rascal has gone pretty deep already into the bottle. Ask the girl, Letta, what his name is."

Sam did not at first observe that the child was trembling very much and gazing eagerly at the old man. He had to repeat the question twice before she understood him, and then she asked the girl without taking her eyes off the old man.

"Who is he?" responded the girl in the Malay tongue, "why, that's old Georgie—drunken Georgie."

She had scarcely uttered the words when Letta uttered a wild cry, ran to the old man, leaped into his arms, and hugged him violently.

The man was not only surprised but agitated. He loosened the child's hold so as to be able to look at her face.

"Oh, Georgie, Georgie!" she cried almost hysterically, "don't you know me—don't you know Letta?"

Georgie replied by uttering a great shout of mingled astonishment and joy, as he clasped the child in his arms. Then, setting her down and holding her at arm's length, he cried in remarkably broken English—

"Know you! Wat? Yous hold nuss—hold Georgie—not know Miss Letty. Ho! Miss Letty! my hold 'art 's a-busted a'most! But you's come back. T'ank de Lor'! Look 'ere, Miss Letty. (He ​started up, put the child down, and, with sudden energy seized the bottle of rum by the neck.) Look 'ere, yous oftin say to me afore you goed away, 'Geo'gie, do, do give up d'inkin','—you 'members?"

"No, I don't remember," said Letta, smiling through her tears.

"Ho! yes, but you said it—bery oftin, an' me was used to say, 'Yes Miss Letty'—de hold hippercrit!—but I didn't gib 'im up. I d'ink away wuss dan ebber. But now—but now—but now (he danced round, each time whirling the bottle above his head), me d'ink no more—nebber—nebber—nebber more!"

With a mighty swing the old man sent the rum-bottle, like a rocket, up among the branches of an ebony-tree, where it was shattered to atoms, and threw an eaves-dropping monkey almost into fits by raining rum and broken glass upon its inquisitive head.

When the excitement of the meeting had somewhat subsided, Letta suddenly said, "But where is mamma? Oh! take me to mamma, Georgie."

The old man's joy instantly vanished, and Letta stood pale and trembling before him, pressing her little hands to her breast, and not daring, apparently, to ask another question.

"Not dead?" she said at length in a low whisper.

​"No—no—Miss Letty," replied the man hastily, "Ho! no, not dead, but goed away; nigh broked her heart when she losted you; git berry sick; t'ought she was go for die, but she no die. She jis turn de corner and come round, an' when she git bedder she goed away."

"Were did she go to?" asked Eobin, anxiously,

"To Bumby," said old George.

"To where?"

"Bumby."

"I suppose you mean Bombay?" said Sam.

"Yes, yes—an' me say Bumby."

"Is she alive and well?" asked Robin.

"Don' know," replied old George, shaking his head; "she no write to hold Geo'gie. Nigh two hears since she goed away."

When the excitement of this meeting began to subside, Sam Shipton took the old Malay aside, and, after prolonged conversation, learned from him the story, of which the following is the substance.

Mrs. Langley was the widow of a gentleman who had died in the service of Rajah Brooke. Several years before—he could not say exactly how many—the widow had retired with her only child, Letta, to a little bungalow on a somewhat out-of-the-way part of the coast which Mr. Langley used to be fond of going to, and called his "shooting-box." This had ​been attacked one night by Labuan pirates, who, after taking all that was valuable, set fire to the house. Mrs. Langiey had escaped by a back door into the woods with her old man-servant, George. She had rushed at the first alarm to Letta's bed, but the child was not there. Letta had been awake, had heard the advance of the pirate crew, and had gone into a front room to see who was coming. Supposing that old George must have taken charge of the child, and hearing him calling to her to come away quickly, the widow ran out at the back door as the pirates entered by the front. Too late she found that George had not the child, and she would have returned to the house, regardless of consequences, if George had not forcibly restrained her. When George returned at daybreak, he found the house a smouldering ruin, the pirates gone, and Letta nowhere to be found.

The shock threw Mrs. Langiey into a violent fever. She even lost her reason for a time, and when at last she was restored to some degree of health, she went away to Bombay without saying to any one what were her intentions. She could never entirely forgive old George for having prevented her returning to the house to share the fate of her child, and left Sarawak without bidding him farewell, though, as old George himself pathetically remarked, "Me couldn't 'elp it, you knows. De ​scoundrils kill missis if she goed back, an' dat doos no good to Miss Letty."

This was all the information that could be obtained about Mrs. Langley, and on the strength of it Sam and Robin resolved to proceed to Bombay by the first opportunity. But their patience was severely tried, for many months elapsed ere they obtained berths in a vessel bound direct to Bombay.

Of course Jim Slagg determined to go with them, and so did Stumps, though a slight feeling of coldness had begun to manifest itself in that worthy's manner ever since the episode of the division of jewels. John Johnson, however, made up his mind to take service with the Rajah, and help to exterminate the nests of pirates with which those seas were infested.

"Depend upon it, sir," said Johnson to Robin at parting, "that you 'll turn out somethin' or other afore long. As I said to our stooard on the night that you was born, 'Stooard,' says I, 'take my word for it, that there babby what has just been launched ain't agoin' under hatches without makin' his mark somehow an' somewheres,' an' you've begun to make it, sir, a'ready, an' you 'll go on to make it, as sure as my name's John Johnson."

"I 'm gratified by your good opinion," replied Robin, with a laugh. "All I can say is, that whatever mark I make, I hope may be a good one."

​Poor Robin had little ambition at that time to make any kind of mark for himself on the world. His one desire—which had grown into a sort of passion—was to find Letta's mother, Nearly all his thoughts were concentrated on that point, and so great was his personal influence on his comrades, that Sam and Slagg had become almost as enthusiastic about it as himself, though Stumps remained comparatively indifferent.

BOMBAY—WHERE STUMPS COMES TO GRIEF

Once again we must beg the patient reader to skip with us over time and space, until we find ourselves in the great city of Bombay.

It is a great day for Bombay. Natives and Europeans alike are unusually excited. Something of an unwonted nature is evidently astir. Down at the sea the cause of the excitement is explained, for the Great Eastern steamship has just arrived, laden with the telegraph cable which is to connect England with her possessions in the East. The streets and quays are crowded with the men of many nations and various creeds, to say nothing of varied costume. Turbans and chimney-pots salaam to each other, and fezes nod to straw hats and wide-awakes. Every one is more than usually sympathetic, for all have their minds, eyes, and hopes, more or less, centred on the "big ship," with her unique and precious cargo.

But it is with neither the Great Eastern nor the ​people—not even with the cable—that we have to do just now. Removing our eyes from such, we fix them and our attention on a very small steamer which lies alongside one of the wharves, and shows evidence of having been severely handled by winds and waves.

At the time we direct attention to her, a few passengers were landing from this vessel, and among them were our friends, Sam Shipton, Robin Wright, Jim Slagg, John Shanks, alias Stumps, and Letta Langley. Most of the passengers had luggage of some sort, but our friends possessed only a small bag each, slung over their shoulders. A letter from the authorities of Sarawak certified that they were honest men.

"Now, Robin," said Sam, as they pushed through the crowds, "there seems to me something auspicious in our arriving about the same time with the Great Eastern, and I hope something may come of it, but our first business is to make inquiries for Mrs. Langley. We will therefore go and find the hotel to which we have been recommended, and make that our headquarters while we are engaged in our search."

"Can I lend you a hand, Mr. Shipton?" asked Slagg, who had become, as it were, irresistibly more respectful to Robin and Sam since coming among civilised people.

​"No, Slagg; our mission is too delicate to admit of numbers. If we require your services we 'll let you know."

"Ah! I see—too many cooks apt to spoil the broth. Well, my mission will be to loaf about and see Bombay. You and I will pull together, Stumps."

"No," said Stumps, to the surprise of his companions, "I 've got a private mission of my own—at least for this evening."

"Well, please yourself, Stumpy," said Slagg with a good-humoured laugh, "you never was the best o' company, so I won't break my heart."

At the hotel to which they had been recommended two rooms were engaged,—a small single room for Letta, and one with two beds and a sofa for themselves.

Having breakfasted and commended Letta to the landlady's care, Sam and Robin sallied forth together, while Slagg and Stumps went their separate ways, having appointed to meet again in the evening for supper.

We will follow the fortunes of Mr. John Shanks. That rather vacant and somewhat degenerate youth, having his precious bag slung from his shoulders, and his left arm round it for further security, sauntered forth and began to view the town. His viewing it consisted chiefly in looking long and steadily at the shop windows of the principal ​streets. There was a slight touch of cunning, however, in his expression, for he had rid himself, cleverly as he imagined, of his comrades, and meant to dispose of some of the contents of his bag to the best advantage, without letting them know the result.

In the prosecution of his deep-laid plans, Stumps attracted the attention of a gentleman with exceedingly black eyes and hair, a hook nose, and rather seedy garments. This gentleman followed Stumps with great care for a considerable time, watched him attentively, seemed to make up his mind about him, and finally ran violently against him.

"Oh! I do beg your pardon, sir. I am so sorry," he said in a slightly foreign accent, with an expression of earnest distress on his not over-clean countenance, "so very, very, sorry; it was a piece of orange peel. I almost fell; but for your kind assistance I should have been down and, perhaps, broke my legs. Thank you, sir; I do hope I have not hurt you against the wall. Allow me to dust your sleeve."

"Oh! you 've done me no damage, old gen'l'man," said Stumps, rather flattered by the man's attention and urbanity. "I 'm all right; I ain't so easy hurt. You needn't take on so."

"But I cannot help take on so," returned the seedy man, with an irresistibly bland smile, "it is ​so good of you to make light of it, yet I might almost say you saved my life, for a fall to an elderly man is always very dangerous. Will you not allow me to give my benefactor a drink? See, here is a shop."

Stumps chanced to be very hot and thirsty at the time; indeed he had been meditating some such indulgence, and fell into the trap at once. Accepting the offer with a "well, I don't mind if I do," he entered the drinking saloon and sat down, while his new friend called for brandy and water.

"You have come from a long voyage, I see," said the seedy man, pulling out a small case and offering Stumps a cigar.

"How d'ee know that?" asked Stumps bluntly.

"Because I see it in your bronzed face, and, excuse me, somewhat threadbare garments."

"Oh! as to that, old man, I 've got tin enough to buy a noo rig out, but I 'm in no hurry."

He glanced unintentionally at his bag as he spoke, and the seedy man glanced at it too—intentionally. Of course Stumps's glance let the cat out of the bag!

"Come," said the stranger, when the brandy was put before them, "drink—drink to—to the girls we left behind us!"

"I left no girl behind me," said Stumps,

"Well then," cried the seedy man, with ​irresistible good humour, "let us drink success to absent friends and confusion to our foes."

This seemed to meet the youth's views, for, without a word of comment, he drained his glass nearly to the bottom

"Ha! that's good. Nothin' like brandy and water on a hot day."

"Except brandy and water on a cold day, my dear," returned the Jew—for such he was; "there is not much to choose between them. Had you not better take off your bag? it incommodes you in so narrow a seat. Let me help—No?"

"You let alone my bag," growled Stumps angrily, with a sudden clutch at it.

"Waiter! bring a light. My cigar is out," said the Jew, affecting not to observe Stumps's tone or manner. "It is strange," he went on, "how, sometimes, you find a bad cigar—a very bad cigar—in the midst of good ones. Yours is going well, I think."

"Well enough," answered Stumps, taking another pull at the brandy and water.

The seedy man now launched out into a pleasant light discourse about Bombay and its ways, which highly interested his poor victim. He made no further allusion to the bag, Stumps's behaviour having betrayed all he required to know, namely, that its contents were valuable.

​Soon the brandy began to take effect on Stumps, and, as he was unaccustomed to such potent drink besides being unused to self-restraint, he would speedily have made himself a fit subject for the care of the police, which would not have suited his new friend at all. When, therefore, Stumps put out his hand to grasp his tumbler for another draught, his anxious friend inadvertently knocked it over, and then begged his pardon profusely. Before Stumps could decide whether to call for another glass at the risk of having to pay for it himself, the Jew pointed to a tall, sallow-faced man who sat in a corner smoking and reading a newspaper.

"Do you see him?" he asked, in a low mysterious whisper.

"Yes; who is he ? what about him?" asked the youth in a similar whisper.

"He 's an opium-smoker."

"Is he?" said Stumps with a vacant stare. "What's that?"

Upon this text the seedy man delivered a discourse on the pleasures of opium-smoking, which quite roused the interest and curiosity of his hearer.

"But is it so very nice to smoke opium?" he asked, after listening for some time.

"Nice, my dear? I should think it is—very nice ​but very wrong—oh! very wrong. Perhaps we ought not even to speak about it."

"Nonsense!" said the now half-tipsy lad with an air of determination. "I should like to try it. Come, you know where I could have a pipe. Let's go."

"Not for worlds," said the man with a look of remonstrance.

"Oh, yes you will," returned Stumps, rising.

"Well, you are a wilful man, and if you will I suppose you must," said the Jew.

He rose with apparent reluctance, paid the reckoning, and led his miserable victim into one of the numerous dens of iniquity which exist in the lowest parts of that city. There he furnished the lad with a pipe of opium, and, while he was in the state of semi-stupor resulting therefrom, removed his bag of treasure, which he found, to his delight, contained a far richer prize than he had anticipated, despite the quantity of trash with which it was partly filled.

Having secured this, he waited until Stumps had partially recovered, and then led him into one of the most crowded thoroughfares.

"Now, my boy," he said affectionately, "I think you are much better. You can walk alone."

"I should think I could," he replied, indignantly shaking off the man's grasp. "Wh—what d'ee take me for?"

​He drew his hand across his eyes, as if to clear away the cloud that still oppressed him, and stared sternly before him, then he stared, less sternly, on either side, then he wheeled round and stared anxiously behind him. Then clapping his left hand quickly to his side, he became conscious that his bag was gone, and that his late friend had taken an abrupt departure without bidding him farewell.

STUMPS IN DESPAIR—AND BOMBAY IN RAPTURES.

When Mr. John Shanks realised the full extent of his loss, his first impulse was to seize hold of the nearest passer-by and strangle him; his next, to dash down a narrow street close beside him in pursuit of some one; his next, to howl "stop thief!" and "murder!" and his next, to stare into a shop window in blank dismay, and meditate.

Of these various impulses, he gave way only to the last. His meditations, however, were confused and unsatisfactory. Turning from them abruptly, he hurried along the street at a furious walk, muttering, "I'll go an' tell Slagg." Then, pausing abruptly, "No, I won't, I 'll go an' inform the pleece."

Under this new impulse he hurried forward again, jostling people as he went, and receiving a good deal of rough-handling in return. Presently he came to a dead halt, and with knitted brows and set teeth, hissed, "I 'll go and drown myself."

Full of this intention he broke into a run, but ​not being acquainted with the place, found it necessary to ask his way to the port. This somewhat sobered him, but did not quite change his mind, so that when he eventually reached the neighbourhood of the shipping, he was still going at a quick excited walk. He was stopped by a big and obviously eccentric sea-captain, or mate, who asked him if he happened to know of any active stout young fellow who wanted to ship in a tight little craft about to sail for old England.

"No I don't," said Stumps, angrily.

"Come now, think again," said the skipper, in no degree abashed, and putting on a nautical grin, which was meant for a winning smile. "I 'm rather short-handed; give good wages; have an amiable temper, a good craft, and a splendid cook. You 're just the active spirited fellow that I want. You 'll ship now, eh?"

"No I won't," said Stumps, sulkily, endeavouring to push past.

"Well well, no offence. Keep an easy mind, and if you should chance to change it, just come and see me. Captain Bounce, of the Swordfish. There she lies, in all her beauty, quite a picture. Good day."

The eccentric skipper passed on, but Stumps did not move. He stood there with his eyes riveted on the pavement, and his lips tightly compressed. ​Evidently the drowning plan had been abandoned for something else—something that caused him to frown, then to smile, then to grow slightly pale, and then to laugh somewhat theatrically. While in this mood he was suddenly pushed to one side by some one who said—

The track 's made for walkin' on, not standin', young— Hallo!"

It was Slagg who had thus roughly encountered his mate.

"Why, Stumps, what 's the matter with you?"

"Nothing."

"Where 'ave you bin to?"

"Nowhere."

"Who 's bin afrightenin' of you?"

"Nobody."

"Nothin', nowhere, an' nobody," repeated his friend; "that 's what I calls a coorious combination for a man who 's as white as a sheet one moment, and as red as a turkey-cock the next."

"Well, Slagg," said Stumps, recovering himself a little, "the fact is, I've been taken in and robbed."

Hereupon he related all the circumstances of his late adventure to his astonished and disgusted comrade, who asserted roundly that he was a big booby, quite unfit to take care of himself.

"Hows'ever, we must do the best we can for you " he continued, "so come along to the police-office."

​Information of the robbery was given, and inquiries instituted without delay, but without avail. Indeed the chief officer held out little hope of ultimate success; nevertheless, Slagg endeavoured to buoy up his friend with assurances that they must surely get hold of the thief in the long-run.

"And if we don't," he said to Robin and Sam, during a private conversation on the subject that same night, "we must just give him each a portion of what we have, for the poor stoopid has shared our trials, and ought to share our luck."

While Stumps was being thus fleeced in the lower part of the city, Robin and Sam had gone to make inquiries about Mrs. Langley, and at the Government House they discovered a clerk who had formerly been at Sarawak, and had heard of the fire, the abduction of the little girl, and of Mrs. Langley having afterwards gone to Bombay; but he also told them, to their great regret, that she had left for England six months before their arrival, and he did not know her address, or even the part of England to which she had gone.

"But," continued the clerk, who was a very friendly fellow, "I 'll make inquiries, and let you know the result, if you leave me your address. Meanwhile you can amuse yourself by paying a visit to that wonderful ship, the Great Eastern, which has come to lay a submarine telegraph cable ​"between this and Aden. Of course you have heard of her arrival—perhaps seen her."

"O yes," replied Robin, "We intend to visit her at once. She is an old acquaintance of mine, as I was in her when she laid the Atlantic cable in 1865. Does Captain Anderson still command her?"

"No," answered the clerk, who seemed much interested in what Robin said. "She is now commanded by Captain Halpin."

That evening Robin tried to console poor Letta in her disappointment at not finding her mother, and Sam sought to comfort Stumps for the loss of his treasure. Neither comforter was very successful. Letta wept in spite of Robin, and Stumps absolutely refused to be comforted!

Next day, however, the tears were dried, and Letta became cheery again in the prospect of a visit to the Great Eastern.

But Stumps was no better. Indeed he seemed worse, and flatly refused to accompany them on their trip, although all the world of Bombay was expected to go.

"Stumps, Stumps,
Down in the dumps!
⁠Down in the dumps so low—O!"

Sang Jim Slagg as he waved his hand in farewell on quitting the hotel. "Good-bye, my boy, and get your spirits up before we return, if you can."

​"I 'll try," replied Stumps with a grim smile.

The event which stirred the city of Bombay to its centre at this time was indeed a memorable one. The connecting of India with England direct by a deep-sea cable was a matter of the greatest importance, because the land telegraph which existed at the time was wretchedly worked, passing, as it did, through several countries, which involved translation and re-translation, besides subjecting messages to needless delay on the part of unbusiness-like peoples. In addition to the brighter prospects which the proposed cable was opening up, the presence of the largest ship that had ever yet been constructed was a point of overwhelming attraction, and so great were the crowds that went on board to see the marine wonder, that it was found somewhat difficult to carry on the necessary work of coaling and making preparations for the voyage.

"Robin," said Sam, as they walked along with Letta between them, "I 've just discovered that the agent of the Telegraph Construction and Maintenance Company is an old friend of mine. He has been busy erecting a cable landing-house on the shores of Back Bay, so we 'll go there first and get him to accompany us to the big ship."

"Good," said Robin, "if it is not too far for Letta to walk."

The landing-house, which they soon reached, ​stood near to the "green" where the Bombay and Baroda Railway tumbled out its stream of cotton until the region became a very sea of bales. It was a little edifice with a thatched roof and Venetian blinds, commanding a fine view of the whole of Back Bay, with Malabar Point to the right and the governor's house imbedded in trees. Long lines of surf marked the position of ugly rocks which were visible at low water, but among these there was a pathway of soft sand marked off by stakes, along which the shore-end of the cable was to lie.

For the reception of the extreme end of the cable there was provided, in the cable-house, a testing table of solid masonry, with a wooden top on which the testing instruments were to stand; the great delicacy of these instruments rendering a fixed table indispensable.

When our friends reached the cable-house, native labourers, in picturesque Oriental costume, were busy thatching its roof or painting it blue, while some were screwing its parts together; for the house, with a view to future telegraphic requirements, was built so as to come to pieces for shipment to still more distant quarters of the globe.

Sam's friend could not go with him, he said, but he would introduce him to a young acquaintance among the working engineers who was going off ​with a party in half an hour or so. Accordingly, in a short time they were gliding over the hay, and ere long stood on the deck of the big ship.

"Oh, Letta!" said Robin, with a glitter of enthusiasm in his eyes, as he gazed round on the well-remembered deck, "it feels like meeting an old friend after a long separation."

"How nice!" said Letta.

This "how nice" of the child was, so to speak, a point of great attraction to our hero. She always accompanied it with a smile so full of sympathy, interest, and urbanity, that it became doubly significant on her lips. Letta was precocious. She had grown so rapidly in sympathetic capacity and intelligence, since becoming acquainted with her new friends, that Robin had gradually come to speak to her about his thoughts and feelings very much as he used to speak to cousin Madge when he was a boy.

"Yes," he continued, "I had forgotten how big she was, and she seems to me actually to have grown bigger. There never was a ship like her in the world. Such huge proportions, such a vast sweep of graceful lines. The chief difference that I observe is the coat of white paint they have given her. She seems to have been whitewashed from stem to stern. It was for the heat, I fancy."

"Yes, sir, it wor," said a bluff cable-man who ​chanced to overhear the remark, "an' if you wor in the tanks, you 'd 'ave blessed Capt'n Halpin for wot he done. Wy, sir, that coat o' whitewash made a difference o' no less than eight degrees in the cable-tanks the moment it was putt on. Before that we was nigh stooed alive. Arter that we 've on'y bin baked."

"Indeed?" said Robin, but before he could say more the bluff cable-man had returned to his bakery.

"Just look here," he continued, turning again to Letta; "the great ships around us seem like little ones, by contrast, and the little ones like boats,—don't they?"

"Yes, and the boats like toys," said Letta, "and the people in them like dolls."

"True, little one, and yonder comes a toy steamer," said Sam, who had been contemplating the paying-out gear in silent admiration, "with some rather curious dolls on it."

"Oh!" exclaimed Letta, with great surprise, "look, Robin, look at the horses—just as if we were on shore!"

Among the many surprising things on board of the big ship, few were more striking for incongruity than the pair of grey carriage-horses, to which Letta referred, taking their morning exercise composedly up and down one side of the deck, with a groom at their heads.

​The steamer referred to by Sam was one which contained a large party of Hindu and Parsee ladies and children who had come off to see the ship. These streamed into her in a bright procession, and were soon scattered about, making the decks and saloons like Eastern flower-beds with their many-coloured costumes—of red, pink, white, and yellow silks and embroideries, and bracelets, brooches, nose-rings, anklets, and other gold and silver ornaments.

The interest taken by the natives in the Great Eastern was naturally great, and was unexpectedly illustrated in the following manner. Captain Halpin, anticipating difficulties in the matter of coaling and otherwise carrying on the work of the expedition, had resolved to specify particular days for sight-seers, and to admit them by ticket, on which a small fee was charged—the sum thus raised to be distributed among the crew at the end of the voyage. In order to meet the convenience of the "upper ten" of English at Bombay, the charge at first was two rupees (about 4s.), and it was advertised that the ship would afterwards be thrown open at lower rates, but to the surprise of all, from an early hour on the two-rupee day the ship was beset by Parsees, Hindus, and Mohammedans, so that eventually, on all sides—on the decks, the bridge, the paddle-boxes, down in the saloons, ​outside the cable-tanks, mixed up with the machinery, clustering round the huge red buoys, and at the door of the testing-room—the snowy robes, and strange head-dresses, bright costumes, brighter eyes, brown faces, and turbans far outnumbered the stiff and sombre Europeans. These people evidently regarded the Great Eastern as one of the wonders of the world. "The largest vessel ever seen in Bombay," said an enthusiastic Parsee, "used to be the Bates Family, of Liverpool, and now there she lies alongside of us looking like a mere jolly-boat."

While Sam and his friends were thus standing absorbed by the contemplation of the curious sights and sounds around them, one of the engineer staff, who had served on board during the laying of the 1866 Atlantic cable, chanced to pass, and, recognising Robin as an old friend, grasped and shook his hand warmly. Robin was not slow to return the greeting.

"Frank Hedley," he exclaimed, "why, I thought you had gone to California!"

"Robin Wright," replied the young engineer, "I thought you were dead!"

"Not yet," returned Robin; "I 'm thankful to report myself alive and well."

"But you ought to be dead," persisted Frank, "for you 've been mourned as such for nigh a ​couple of years. At least the vessel in which you sailed has never been heard of, and the last time I saw your family, not four months since, they had all gone into mourning for you."

"Poor mother!" murmured Robin, his eyes filling with tears, "but, please God, we shall meet again before long."

"Come—come down with me to the engine-room and have a talk about it," said Frank, "and let your friends come too."

Just as he spoke, one of the little brown-faced Mohammedan boys fixed his glittering eyes on an opening in the bulwarks of the ship, through which the water could be seen glancing brightly. That innate spirit of curiosity peculiar to small boys all the world over, induced him to creep partly through the opening and glance down at the sparkling fluid. That imperfect notion of balance, not infrequent in small boys, caused him to tip over and cleave the water with his head. His Mohammedan relatives greeted the incident with shrieks of alarm. Robin, who had seen him tip over, being a good swimmer, and prompt to act, went through the same hole like a fish-torpedo, and caught the brown boy by the hair, as he rose to the surface with staring eyes, outspread fingers, and a bursting cry.

Rope-ends, life-buoys, and other things were flung over the side; oars were plunged; boats ​darted forward; fifty efforts at rescue were made in as many seconds, for there was wealth of aid at hand, and in a wonderfully brief space of time the brown boy was restored to his grateful friends, while Robin, enveloped in a suit of dry clothes much too large for him, was seated with his friend the engineer down among the great cranks, and wheels, and levers, of the regions below.

"It 's well the sharks weren't on the outlook," said Frank Hedley, as he brought forward a small bench for Letta, Sam, and Jim Slagg. "You won't mind the oily smell, my dear," he said to Letta.

"O no. I rather like it," replied the accommodating child.

"It's said to be fattening," remarked Slagg, "even when taken through the nose."

"Come now, let me hear all about my dear mother and the rest of them, Frank," said Robin.

Frank began at once, and, for a considerable time, conversed about the sayings and doings of the Wright family, and of the world at large, and about the loss of the cable-ship; but gradually and slowly, yet surely, the minds and converse of the little party came round to the all-absorbing topic, like the needle to the pole!

"So, you 're actually going to begin to coal to-morrow?" said Sam.

"Yes, and we hope to be ready in a few days to ​lay the shore-end of the cable," answered the young engineer.

"But have they not got land lines of telegraph which work well enough?" asked Robin.

"Land lines!" exclaimed Frank, with a look of contempt. "Yes, they have, and no doubt the lines are all right enough, but the people through whose countries they pass are all wrong. Why, the Government lines are so frequently out of order just now, that their daily condition is reported on as if they were noble invalids. Just listen to this (he caught up a very much soiled and oiled newspaper)—'Telegraph Line Reports, Kurrachee, 2d Feby., 6 p.m.—Cable communication perfect to Fao; Turkish line is interrupted beyond Semawali; Persian line interrupted beyond Shiraz.' And it is constantly like that—the telegraphic disease, though intermittent, is chronic. One can never be sure when the line may be unfit for duty. Sometimes from storms, sometimes from the assassination of the operators in wild districts through which the land wires pass, and sometimes from the destruction of lines out of pure mischief, the telegraph is often beaten by the mail."

"There seems, indeed, much need for a cable direct," said Sam, "which will make us independent of Turks, Persians, Arabs, and all the rest of them. By the way, how long is your cable?"

​"The cable now in our tanks is 2375 nautical miles long, but our companion ships, the Hibernia, Chiltern, and Hawk, carry among them 1225 miles more, making a total of 3600 nautical miles, which is equal, as you know, to 4050 statute miles. This is to suffice for the communication between Bombay and Aden, and for the connecting of the Malta and Alexandria lines. They are now laying a cable between England, Gibraltar, and Malta, so that when all is completed there will be one line of direct submarine telegraph unbroken, except at Suez.

"Magnificent!" exclaimed Robin, "why, it won't be long before we shall be able to send a message to India and get a reply in the same day."

"In the same day!" cried Sam, slapping his thigh; "mark my words, as uncle Rik used to say, you 'll be able to do that, my boy, within the same hour before long."

"Come, Sam, don't indulge in prophecy. It does not become you," said Robin. "By the way, Frank, what about uncle Rik? You have scarcely mentioned him."

"Oh! he 's the same hearty old self-opinionated fellow as ever. Poor fellow, he was terribly cut up about your supposed death. I really believe that he finds it hard even to smile now, much less to laugh. As for Madge, she won't believe that you ​are lost—at least she won't admit it, though it is easy to see that anxiety has told upon her."

"I wonder how my poor old mother has took it," said Slagg, pathetically. "But she 's tough, an' can't be got to believe things easy. She 'll hold out till I turn up, I dessay, and when I present myself she 'll say, 'I know'd it!'"

"But to return to the cable," said Sam, with an apologetic smile. "Is there any great difference between it and the old ones?"

"Not very much. We have found, however, that a little marine wretch called the teredo attacks hemp so greedily that we've had to invent a new compound wherewith to coat it, namely, ground flint or silica, pitch, and tar, which gives the teredo the toothache, I suppose, for it turns him off effectually. We have also got an intermediate piece of cable to affix between the heavy shore-end and the light deep-sea portion. There are, of course, several improvements in the details of construction, but essentially it is the same as the cables you have already seen, with its seven copper wires covered with gutta-percha, and other insulating and protecting substances."

"It 's what I calls a tremendious undertakin'," said Slagg.

"It is indeed," assented Frank, heartily, for like all the rest of the crew, from the captain ​downwards, he was quite enthusiastic about the ship and her work. "Why, when you come to think of it, it 's unbelievable. I sometimes half expect to waken up and find it is all a dream. Just fancy. We left England with a freight of 21,000 tons. The day is not long past when I thought a ship of 1000 tons a big one; what a mite that is to our Leviathan, as she used to be called. We had 5512 tons of cable, 3824 tons of fuel, 6499 tons of coal and electric apparatus and appliances when we started; the whole concern, ship included, being valued at somewhere about two millions sterling. It may increase your idea of the size and needs of our little household when I tell you that the average quantity of coal burned on the voyage out has been 200 tons a day."

"It 's a positive romance in facts and figures," said Sam.

"A great reality, you should have said," remarked Robin.

And so, romancing on this reality of facts and figures in many a matter-of-fact statement and figurative rejoinder, they sat there among the great cranks, and valves, and pistons, and levers, until the declining day warned them that it was time to go ashore.

SHOWS THE DREADFUL DEPRAVITY OF MAN, AND THE AMAZING EFFECTS OF ELECTRICAL TREATMENT ON MAN AND BEAST.

Meanwhile Stumps went back to the hotel to brood over his misfortunes, and hatch out the plan which his rather unfertile brain had devised.

Seated on a chair, with his elbows on his knees, his chin in his hands, and his nails between his teeth, he stared at a corner of the room, nibbled and meditated. There was nothing peculiar about the corner of the room at which he stared, save that there stood in it a portmanteau which Sam had bought the day before, and in which were locked his and Robin's bags of treasure.

"If I could only manage to get away by rail to—to—anywhere, I 'd do it," he muttered.

Almost simultaneously he leaped from his chair, reddened, and went to look out at the window, for some one had tapped at the door.

"Come in," he said with some hesitation.

"Gen'l'man wants you, sir," said a waiter, ushering ​in the identical captain who had stopped Stumps on the street that day.

"Excuse me, young man," he said, taking a chair without invitation, "I saw you enter this hotel, and followed you."

"Well, and what business had you to follow me?" demanded Stumps, feeling uneasy.

"Oh, none—none at all, on'y I find I must sail this afternoon, an' I 've took a fancy to you, an' hope you 've made up your mind to ship with me."

Stumps hesitated a moment.

"Well, yes, I have," he said, with sudden resolution. "When must I be on board?"

"At four, sharp," said the captain, rising. "I like promptitude. All right. Don't fail me."

"I won't," said Stumps, with emphasis.

When the captain was gone. Stumps went nervously to the door and peeped out. Nothing was visible, save the tail of a waiter's retiring coat. Cautiously shutting and bolting the door, he took up a strong walking-cane, and, after some difficulty, forced the lock of the portmanteau therewith. Abstracting from it the two bags containing the treasures of his mates Robin and Sam, he wrapped them in a handkerchief, and put them into a canvas bag, which he had purchased for the reception of his own wardrobe. Taking this under his arm he went quietly out of the hotel into the street and disappeared.

​He was closely followed by a waiter who had taken the liberty of peeping through the key-hole when he committed the robbery, and who never lost sight of him till he had seen him embark in a vessel in the harbour, named the Fairy Queen, and heard him give his name as James Gibson. Then he returned to the hotel, giving vent to his sentiments in the following soliloquy—

"Of course it is no business of yours, John Ribbon, whether men choose to open their comrades' portmantys with keys or walkin'-sticks, but it is well for you to note the facts that came under your observation, and to reveal them to them as they concern—for a consideration."

But the waiter did not at that time obtain an opportunity to reveal his facts to those whom they concerned, for Sam, Robin, Slagg, and Letta did not return to the hotel, but sent a pencil note to Stumps instead, to the effect that they had received an invitation from a telegraph official to pay him a visit at his residence up country; that, as he was to carry them off in his boat to the other side of the bay, they would not have an opportunity of calling to bid him, Stumps, a temporary farewell; that he was to make himself as happy as he could in Bombay during their absence, keep on the rooms at the hotel, and settle the bills, and that all expenses would be paid by them on their return.

​As the youth by whom this message was sent knew nothing about the senders or whither they had gone, and as Stumps did not again make his appearance, the landlord seized the few things that had been left by the supposed runaways.

The invitation that had thus suddenly been given and accepted, was received from a gentleman named Redpath, an official in the Indian telegraph service. They had been introduced to him on board of the Great Eastern by Sam's friend, Frank Hedley, and he became so interested in their adventurous career that he begged them to visit his bungalow in a rather out-of-the-way part of the country, even if only for a few days.

"It won't take us long to get there," he said, "for the railway passes within thirty miles of it, and I 'll drive you over as pretty a piece of country as you could wish to see. I have a boat alongside, and must be off at once. Do come."

"But there are so many of us," objected Sam Shipton.

"Pooh! I could take a dozen more of you," returned the hospitable electrician; "and my wife rejoices—absolutely rejoices—when I bring home unexpected company."

"What a pattern she must be," said Slagg; "but excuse me, sir, since you are so good as to invite us all, may I make so bold as to ax if you 've got a servants'-'all?"

​"Well, I 've not got exactly that," replied Redpath, with an amused look; "but I've got something of the same sort for my servants. Why do you ask?"

"Because, sir, I never did sail under false colours, and I ain't agoin' to begin now. I don't set up for a gentleman, and though circumstances has throwed me along wi' two of 'em, so that we 've bin hail-feller-well-met for a time, I ain't agoin' to condescend to consort wi' them always. If you 've got a servants'-'all, I 'll come and thank 'ee; if not, I 'll go an' keep company wi' Stumps till Mr. Shipton comes back."

"Very well, my good fellow, then you shall come, and we 'll find you a berth in the servants'-hall," said Redpath, laughing.

"But what about Stumps?" said Robin; "he will wonder what has come over us. Could we not return to the hotel first"

"Impossible," said the electrician; "I have not time to wait. My leave has expired. Besides, you can write him a note."

So the note was written, as we have shown, and the party set out on their inland journey. Before starting, however, Frank Hedley, the engineer, took Sam and Robin aside.

"Now, think over what I have mentioned," he said, "and make up your minds. You see, I have ​some influence at headquarters, and am quite sure I can get you both a berth on board to replace the men who have left us. I think I can even manage to find a corner for Slagg, if he is not particular."

"We shall only be too happy to go if you can manage it," replied Robin; "but Stumps, what about him? We can't leave Stumps behind, you know."

"Well, I 'll try to get Stumps smuggled aboard as a stoker or something, if possible, but to say truth, I don't feel quite so sure about that matter," replied Frank.

"But shall we have time for this trip if you should prove successful?" asked Sam.

"Plenty of time," returned his friend; "coaling is a slow as well as a dirty process, and to ship thousands of tons is not a trifle. I daresay we shall be more than a week here before the shore- end is fixed and all ready to start."

"Well then, Frank," said Sam; "adieu, till we meet as shipmates."

The railway soon conveyed our adventurers a considerable distance into the interior of the country.

At the station where Redpath and his guests got out, a vehicle was procured sufficiently large to hold them all, and the road over which they rapidly passed bore out the character which the electrician had given to it. Every species of beautiful scenery ​presented itself—from the low scrubby plain, with clumps of tropical plants here and there, to undulating uplands and hills.

"You must have some difficulties in your telegraph operations here," said Robin to Redpath, "with which we have not to contend in Europe."

"A few," replied his friend, "especially in the wilder parts of the East. Would you believe it," he added, addressing himself to Letta, "that wild animals frequently give us great trouble? Whenever a wild pig, a tiger, or a buffalo, takes it into his head to scratch himself, he uses one of our telegraph posts if he finds it handy. Elephants sometimes butt them down with their thick heads, by way of pastime, I suppose, for they are not usually fond of posts and wire as food. Then bandicoots and porcupines burrow under them and bring them to the ground, while kites and crows sit on the wires and weigh them down. Monkeys, as usual, are most mischievous, for they lay hold of the wires with tails and paws, swinging from one to another, and thus form living conductors, which tend to mix and confuse the messages."

"But does not the electricity hurt the monkeys?" asked Letta.

"O no! It does them no injury; and birds sitting on the wires are never killed by it, as many people suppose. The electricity passes them unharmed, ​and keeps faithfully to the wire. If a monkey, indeed, had a tail long enough to reach from the wire to the ground, and were to wet itself thoroughly, it might perhaps draw off some of the current, but fortunately the tails of monkeys are limited. We often find rows of birds lying dead below our telegraph lines, but these have been killed by flying against them, the wires being scarcely visible among trees."

"And what about savages, sir?" asked Jim Slagg, who had become deeply interested in the telegraphist's discourse; "don't they bother you sometimes?"

"Of course they do," replied Redpath, with a laugh, "and do us damage at times, though we bother them too, occasionally."

"How do you manage that, sir?" asked Jim,

"Well, you must know we have been much hindered in our work by the corruptness and stupidity of Eastern officials in many places,and by the destructive propensities and rapacity of Kurds and wandering Arabs and semi-savages, who have found our posts in the desert good for firewood and our wires for arrow-heads or some such implements. Some of our pioneers in wild regions have been killed by robbers when laying the lines, while others have escaped only by fighting for their lives. Superstition, too, has interfered with us sadly, though sometimes it has come to our aid."

​"There was one eccentric Irishman—one of the best servants I ever had," continued Redpath, "who once made a sort of torpedo arrangement which achieved wonderful success. The fellow is with me still, and it is a treat to hear Flinn, that 's his name, tell the story, but the fun of it mostly lies in the expressive animation of his own face, and the richness of his brogue as he tells it.

"'I was away in the dissert somewheres,' he is wont to say, 'I don't rightly remimber where, for my brain 's no better than a sive at geagraphy, but it was a wild place, anyhow—bad luck to it! Well, we had sot up a line o' telegraph in it, an' wan o' the posts was stuck in the ground not far from a pool o' wather where the wild bastes was used to dhrink of a night, an' they tuk a mighty likin' to this post, which they scrubbed an' scraped at till they broke it agin an' agin. Och! it 's me heart was broke intirely wi' them. At last I putt me brains in steep an' got up an invintion. It wouldn't be aisy to explain it, specially to onscientific people. No matter, it was an electrical arrangement, which I fixed to the post, an' bein' curious to know how it would work, I wint down to the pool an' hid mesilf in a hole of a rock, wid a big stone over me an' ferns all round about. I tuk me rifle, av coorse, just for company, you know, but not to shoot, for I 'm not bloodthirsty, by no means. Well, I hadn't bin ​long down whin a rustle in the laves towld me that somethin' was comin', an' sure enough down trotted a little deer—as purty a thing as you could wish to see. It took a dhrink, tremblin' all the time, an' there was good cause, for another rustlin' was heard. Off wint the deer, just as a panther o' some sort jumped out o' the jungle an' followed it. Bad luck go wid ye! says I; but I 'd scarce said it whin a loud crashing in the jungle towld me a buffalo or an elephant was comin'. It was an elephant. He wint an' took a long pull at the pool. After that he goes straight to the post. Ha! says I, it 's an owld friend o' yours, I see. When he putt his great side agin' it, for the purpose of scratchin', he got a shock from my electrical contrivance that caused his tail to stand upon end, and the hairs at its point to quiver. Wid a grunt he stood back an' gave the post a look o' surprise, as much as to say. Did ye do that a-purpose, ye spalpeen? Then he tried it again, an' got another shock that sot up his dander, for he twisted his long nose round the post, goin' to pull it down, no doubt, but he got another shock on the nose that made him squeal an' draw back. Then he lowered his great head for a charge. It's all over wid ye now, me post, says I; but the baste changed its mind, and wint off wid its tail an' trunk in the air, trump etin' as if it had gob the toothache. Well, after that nothin' ​came for some time, and I think I must have gone off to slape, for I was awoke by a most tremendious roar. Lookin' up I saw a tiger sprawlin' on his back beside the post! Av coorse the shock wasn't enough to have knocked the baste over. I suppose it had tripped in the surprise. Anyhow it jumped up and seized the post with claws an' teeth, whin av coorse it got another shock that caused it to jump back about six yards, with its tail curled, its hair all on end, all its claws out, an' its eyes blazin'. You seem to feel it, says I—in to meself, for fear he'd hear me. He didn't try it again, but wint away into the bush like a war-rocket. After that, five or six little wild pigs came down, an' the smallest wan wint straight up to the post an' putt his nose to it. He drew back wid a jerk, an' gave a scream that seemed to rend all his vitals. You don't like it, thinks I; but, faix, it looked as if I was wrong, for he tried it again. Another shock he got, burst himself a'most wid a most fearful yell, an' bolted. His brothers didn't seem to understand it quite. They looked after him in surprise. Then the biggest wan gave a wriggle of his curly tail, an' wint to the post as if to inquire what was the matter. When he got it on the nose the effect was surprisin'. The curl of his tail came straight out, an' it quivered for a minute all over, wid its mouth wide open. The screech had stuck in his ​throat, but it came out at last so fierce that the other pigs had to join in self-defence. I stuck my fingers in my ears and shut me eyes. When I opened them again the pigs were gone. It's my opinion they were all dissolved, like the zinc plates in a used-up battery; but I can't prove that. Well, while I was cogitatin' on the result of my little invintion, what should walk out o' the woods but a man! At first I tuk him for a big monkey, for the light wasn't very good, but he had a gun on his shoulder, an' some bits o' clothes on, so I knew him for a human. Like the rest o' them, he wint up to the post an' looked at it, but didn't touch it. Then he came to the pool an' tuk a dhrink, an' spread out his blanket, an' began to arrange matters for spendin' the rest o' the night there. Av coorse he pulled out his axe, for he couldn't do widout fire to kape the wild bastes off. An' what does he do but go straight up to my post an' lift his axe for a good cut. Hallo! says I, pretty loud, for I was a'most too late. Whew! What a jump he gave!—six futt if it was an inch. Whin he came down he staggered with his back agin the post. That was enough. The jump he tuk before was nothin' to what he did after. I all but lost sight of him among the branches. When he returned to the ground it was flat on his face he fell, an', rowlin' over his head, came up on his knees with a roar ​that putt the tigers and pigs to shame. Sarves you right, says I, steppin' out of my hole. Av coorse he thought I was a divil of some sort, for he turned as white in the face as a brown man could, an' bolted without so much as sayin' farewell. The way that nigger laid his legs along the ground was a caution. Ostriches are a joke to it. I picked up his blanket an' fetched it home as a keepsake, an' from that day to this the telegraph posts have been held sacred by man an' baste all over that part of the country.'"

"I 'd like to meet wi' the feller that told that yarn," said Jim Slagg.

"So should I," said Letta, laughing.

"You shall both have your wish, for there he stands," said Redpath, as they dashed round the corner of a bit of jungle, on the other side of which lay as pretty a bungalow as one could wish to see. A man-servant who had heard the wheels, was ready at the gate to receive the reins, while under the verandah stood a pretty little woman to receive the visitors. Beside her was a black nurse with a white baby.

"Here we are, Flinn," said Redpath, leaping to the ground. "All well, eh?"

"Sure we 're niver anything else here, sor," replied Flinn, with a modest smile.

​"I 've just been relating your electrical experiences to my friends," said the master,

"Ah! now, it 's drawin' the long bow you 've been," returned the man; "I see it in their faces."

"I have rather diluted the dose than otherwise," returned Redpath. "Let me introduce Mr. Slagg. He wishes to see Indian life in the 'servants' hall.' Let him see it, and treat him well."

"Yours to command," said Flinn, with a nod as he led the horses away. "This way, Mr. Slug."

"Slagg, if you please, Mr. Flinn," said Jim, "The difference between a a an' a u ain't much, but the results is powerful sometimes."

While Slagg was led away to the region of the bungalow appropriated to the domestics, his friends were introduced to pretty little Mrs. Redpath, and immediately found themselves thoroughly at home under the powerful influence of Indian hospitality.

Although, being in the immediate neighbourhood of a veritable Indian jungle, it was natural that both Sam and Robin should wish to see a little sport among large game, their professional enthusiasm rose superior to their sporting tendencies, and they decided next day to accompany their host on a short trip of inspection to a neighbouring telegraph station, Letta being made over to the care of the hostess, was forthwith installed as assistant nurse to the white baby, whom she already regarded ​as a delicious doll—so readily does female nature adapt itself to its appropriate channels!

Not less readily did Jim Slagg adapt himself to one of the peculiar channels of man's nature. Sport was one of Slagg's weaknesses, though he had enjoyed very little of it, poor fellow, in the course of his life. To shoot a lion, a tiger, or an elephant, was, in Slagg's estimation, the highest possible summit of earthly felicity. He was young, you see, at that time, and moderately foolish! But although he had often dreamed of such bliss, he had never before expected to be within reach of it. His knowledge of sport, moreover, was entirely theoretic. He knew indeed how to load a rifle and pull the trigger, but nothing more.

"You haven't got many tigers in these parts, I suppose?" he said to Flinn as they sauntered towards the house after seeing the electrical party off. He asked the question with hesitation, being impressed with a strange disbelief in tigers, except in a menagerie, and feeling nearly as much ashamed as if he had asked whether they kept elephants in the sugar-basin. To his relief Flinn did not laugh, but replied quite gravely—

"Och! yes, we 've got a few, but they don't often come nigh the house. We have to thravel a bit into the jungle, and camp out, whin we wants wan. I heard master say he 'd have a try at 'em to-morrow, ​so you 'll see the fun, for we 've all got to turn out whin we go after tigers. If you 're fond o' sport in a small way, howiver, I can give ye a turn among the birds an' small game to-day."

"There 's nothing I 'd like better," said Slagg, jumping at the offer like a hungry trout at a fly.

"Come along, then," returned the groom heartily; "we 'll take shot-guns, an' a spalpeen of a black boy to carry a spare rifle an' the bag."

In a few minutes the two men, with fowling-pieces on their shoulders, and a remarkably attenuated black boy at their heels carrying a large bore rifle, entered the jungle behind the electrician's bungalow.

A GREAT FIELD-DAY, IN WHICH SLAGG DISTINGUISHES HIMSELF.

Now, although we have said that Jim Slagg knew how to pull a trigger, it does not follow that he knew how to avoid pulling that important little piece of metal. He was aware, of course, that the keeping of his forefinger off the trigger was a point of importance, but how to keep it off when in a state of nervous expectation, he knew not, because his memory and the forefinger of his right hand appeared to get disconnected at such times, and it did not occur to him, just at first, that there was such an arrangement in gun-locks as half-cock.

Flinn reminded him of the fact, however, when, soon after entering the jungle, his straw hat was blown off his head by an accidental discharge of Slagg's gun.

"Niver mention it," said Flinn, picking up his riven headpiece, while poor Slagg overwhelmed him with protestations and apologies, and the black boy stood behind exposing his teeth and gums and the ​whites of his eyes freely; niver mention it, Mr. Slagg; accidents will happen, you know, in the best regulated families. As for me beaver, it 's better riddled than whole in this warm weather. Maybe you 'd as well carry your gun at what sodgers call 'the showlder,' wid the muzzle pintin' at the moon—so; that 's it. Don't blame yoursilf, Mr. Slagg. Sure, it 's worse than that I was when I begood, for the nasty thing I carried wint off somehow of its own accord, an' I shot me mother's finest pig—wan barrel into the tail, an' the other into the hid. You see, they both wint off a'most at the same moment. We must learn by exparience, av coorse. You 've not had much shootin' yet, I suppose?"

Poor, self-condemned Slagg admitted that he had not, and humbly attended to Flinn's instructions, after which they proceeded on their way; but it might have been observed that Flinn kept a corner of his eye steadily on his new friend during the remainder of that day, while the attenuated black kept so close to Slagg's elbow as to render the pointing of the muzzle of his gun at him an impossibility.

Presently there was heard among the bushes a whirring of wings, and up flew a covey of large birds of the turkey species. Flinn stepped briskly aside, saying, "Now thin, let drive!" while the attenuated black fell cautiously in rear.

Bang! bang! went Slagg's gun.

​"Oh!" he cried, conscience-stricken; "there, if I haven't done it again!"

"Done it! av coorse ye have!" cried Flinn, picking up an enormous bird; "it cudn't have bin nater done by a sportin' lord."

"Then it ain't a tame one?" asked Slagg eagerly.

"No more a tame wan than yoursilf, an' the best of aitin' too," said Flinn.

Jim Slagg went on quietly loading his gun, and did not think it necessary to explain that he had supposed the birds to be tame turkeys, that his piece had a second time gone off by accident, and that he had taken no aim at all!

After that, however, he managed to subdue his feelings a little, and accidentally bagged a few more birds of strange form and beautiful plumage, by the simple process of shutting his eyes and firing into the middle of flocks, to the immense satisfaction of Flinn, who applauded all his successes and explained away all his failures in the most amiable manner.

If the frequent expanding of the mouth from ear to ear, the exposure of white teeth and red gums, and the shutting up of glittering eyes, indicated enjoyment, the attenuated boy must have been in a blissful condition that day.

"Why don't ye shoot yerself, Mister Flinn?" asked Slagg on one occasion while reloading.

"Bekaise it shuits me better to look on," answered ​the self-denying man. "You see, I 'm used to it; besides, I 'm a marciful man, and don't care to shoot only for divarshion."

"What's that?" cried Slagg, suddenly pointing his gun straight upwards at two brilliant black eyes which were gazing straight down at him.

"Howld on—och! don't—"

Flinn thrust the gun aside, but he was too late to prevent the explosion, which was followed by a lamentable cry, as a huge monkey fell into Slagg's arms, knocked him over with the shock, and bounded off his breast into its native woods, shrieking.

"Arrah! he's niver a bit the worse," cried Flinn, laughing, in spite of his native politeness, "it was the fright knocked him off the branch. If you'd only given him wan shot he might have stud it, but two was too much for him. But plaise, Mister Slagg, don't fire at monkeys again. I niver do it mesilf, an' can't stand by to see it. It 's so like murther, an' the only wan I iver shot in me life was so like me own owld gran'mother that I've niver quite got over it."

Slagg willingly promised never again to fire at monkeys, and they proceeded on their way.

They had not gone far, when another whirring of wings was heard, but this time the noise was greater than on other occasions.

​"What is it?" asked Slagg eagerly, preparing for action,

"Sure it 's a paycock," said. Flinn.

"A what-cock?" asked Slagg, who afterwards described the noise to be like the flapping of a mainsail.

"A pay-cock. Splendid aitin'. Fire, avic!"

"What! fire at that?" cried Slagg, as a creature of enormous size and gorgeous plumage rose above the bushes. "Ye must be jokin'. I couldn't fire at that."

"Faix, an' ye naidn't fire at it now," returned Flinn with a quiet smile, "for it's a mile out o' range by this time. Better luck—och! if there isn't another. Now, thin, don't be in a hurry. Be aisy. Whatever ye do, be aisy."

While he spoke another huge bird appeared, and as Slagg beheld its size and spreading wings and tail, he took aim with the feelings of a cold-blooded murderer. That is to say, he shut both eyes and pulled both triggers. This double action had become a confirmed habit by that time, and Flinn commended it on the principle that there was "nothin' like makin' cocksure of everything!"

Re-opening his eyes and lowering his gun, Slagg beheld the peacock sailing away in the far distance.

"Sure ye 've missed it, but after all it 's a most ​awkward bird to hit—specially when ye don't pint the gun quite straight. An' the tail, too, is apt to throw even a crack-shot out—so it is. Niver mind; there 's plenty more where that wan came from."

Thus encouraged, our sportsman reloaded and continued his progress.

It is said that fortune favours the brave, and on that occasion the proverb was verified. There can be no question that our friend Jim Slagg was brave. All Irishmen are courageous, therefore it is equally certain that Flinn was brave, and the attenuated black could not have been otherwise than brave, else he would not have continued to enjoy himself in the dangerous neighbourhood of Slagg's gun. As a consequence, therefore, fortune did favour the sportsmen that day, for it brought them unexpectedly into the presence of the king of India's forests—a royal Bengal tiger—tawny skin, round face, glaring eyes, and black stripes complete from nose to tail!

There was no doubt in Flinn's mind about it, as his actions proved, but there were considerable doubts in Slagg's mind, as was evinced by his immediate petrifaction—not with fear, of course, but with something or other remarkably similar.

Slagg chanced to be walking in advance at the time, making his way with some trouble through a ​rather dense bit of jungle. He had by that time recovered his self-possession so much that he was able to let his mind wander to other subjects besides sport.

At the moment when the rencontre occurred he chanced to be wandering in spirit among the groves of Pirate Island. On turning sharp round a bend in the track, he found himself face to face with the tiger, which crouched instantly for a spring. As we have said, the sportsman was instantly petrified. He could not believe his eyes! He must have believed something, however, else he would not have gazed with such dreadful intensity. Yes, there, a few feet before him, crouched the tenant of the menagerie, without the cage—the creature of picture story-books endued with life!

Had Slagg's life depended on his putting his gun to his shoulder he would have lost it, for he could not move. His fingers, however, were gifted with independent action. They gave a spasmodic jerk, and both barrels, chancing to be levelled correctly, sent their charges full into the tiger's face.

Small shot may tickle a tiger but it cannot kill. With a roar like thunder the brute sprang on its audacious enemy. Fortunately Slagg made an involuntary step to the rear at the moment, and fell flat on his back, so that the animal, half-blinded ​by shot and smoke, went over him, and alighted almost at the feet of Flinn.

That worthy was equal to the occasion. At the sound of his friend's double shot he had seized the large rifle and leaped forward in time to meet the baffled tiger. Quick as light his practised hand discharged the heavy bullet, which, passing over the animal's head, went into its spine near the haunches, so that when it tried a second spring its hind legs refused their office, and it rolled over fuming and struggling in an agony of pain and rage.

Flinn ran a few paces backward so as to reload in comparative safety, while Slagg followed his example, but in desperate haste. Before he had half charged the first barrel, a second shot from the heavy rifle laid the royal monster dead on the ground.

"Well done!" cried Flinn, seizing his friend's hand and wringing it. "It 's Nimrod you are, no less. I niver saw a purtier shot. An', faix, it 's not every man that kills a tiger his first day out."

"But I didn't kill it," said Slagg modestly.

"Sure but ye drew first blood, me boy, so the tiger's yours, an' I wish you joy. Come, we 'll go home now an' git help to fetch the carcass. Won't they open their two eyes aich of them whin they see it! Here, ye black spalpeen, take the rifle an' give, me the gun."

​In a few minutes the fortunate hunters were wending their way rapidly homeward, and that night the whole party, while enjoying their supper, feasted their eyes on the magnificent form of the royal Bengal tiger as it lay on the verandah, in front of the electrician's bungalow.

BEGINS WITH A DISAPPOINTMENT, CONTINUES WITH A GREAT RECEPTION, AND ENDS WITH A SERIES OF SURPRISES.

At the breakfast-table next morning a telegram was handed to Redpath. There was nothing unusual in this. On the contrary, it seemed peculiarly natural that telegrams should be frequent visitors at the house of a telegraphist, but it was not so natural that Redpath should first look at the missive with surprise, and then toss it across the table to Sam.

"It is for you, Mr. Shipton."

"For me? Impossible! I am supposed to be dead at home," exclaimed Sam, tearing it open. "Oh, it's from Frank Hedley, and—well, he has been successful after all! Listen, Robin. Excuse me, Mrs. Redpath. May I read it aloud?"

"By all means," answered the pretty little woman, who would probably have answered the same if he had asked leave to go to bed in his boots.

"'Your affair settled'"—continued Sam, reading.

"'Great Eastern starts almost immediately. Come without delay.'"

​"How provoking!" exclaimed the pretty little woman. "I had counted on having you a fortnight at least."

"And I had counted on showing you some capital sport in our jungles, where we have all sorts of large game. But of course you cannot do otherwise than obey the summons at once."

"Of course not," said Sam and Robin together.

Flinn left the room and entered the servants' quarters with something like a groan.

"Sure it 's bad luck has followed me iver since I left owld Ireland."

"What's wrong with you?" asked Slagg, looking up from the slice of peacock breast with which he was regaling himself.

"The matter? Och, it 's bad luck 's the matter. Hasn't our frindship only just begood, an' isn't it goin' to be cut short all of a suddint, niver more to be renewed?"

In pathetic tones, and with many Hibernian comments, the poor man communicated the news brought by the telegram. But regrets were of no avail; the orders were peremptory; the chance of returning to England in such circumstances too good to be lightly thrown away; so that same forenoon saw the whole party, with the skin of the royal tiger, on their way back to the city of Bombay.

It is easier to imagine than to describe the state ​of mind into which they were thrown when, on returning to their hotel, they discovered the perfidy of Stumps. Fortunately, they had enough of money left to discharge the hotel bill, and redeem their property.

"You 're quite sure of the name of the vessel he sailed in?" asked Sam of the waiter who had so cleverly obtained and so cautiously retained his information as to the proceedings of Stumps.

"Quite sure, sir," replied the waiter. "The ship's name was Fairy Queen, bound for the port of London, and the thief—the gen'lem'n, I mean—shipped in the name of James Gibson."

Having received the "consideration" which he had anticipated, and had afterwards given up as lost, the waiter retired, and Sam, with his friends, went to inquire after the great cable with which they now felt themselves to be specially connected.

"Letta," said Eobin, as they went along, "you and I must part for a time."

"Oh! must we?" asked the child, with a distressed look.

"Yes, but only for a very short time, dear," returned Robin. "You know we cannot get you a berth on board the Great Eastern. They won't even take you as chief engineer or captain!"

"But why not as the captain's daughter—or his wife?" said Letta, who thoroughly understood and enjoyed a joke.

​"Because, Letta, you are engaged to me," replied Robin, with an offended look.

"O yes; I forgot that. Well?"

Well, what we have arranged is this. I have met with many kind people here, some of whom have been greatly interested in your story, and one of them—a very nice lady, who is going home—has offered to take you with her, and deliver you safely to my mother in England, there to wait till I come home and marry you."

"How nice!" exclaimed Letta; "and you'll be sure to come home soon?"

"Yes, quite sure, and very soon."

This arrangement, being deemed satisfactory, was afterwards carried into effect, and Letta sailed a few days later in one of the regular steamers for England viâ the Suez Canal.

Meanwhile the Great Eastern still lay at her moorings, completing the arrangements for her voyage.

During this period our hero lived in a whirl of excitement. It seemed to himself as if he were the subject of an amazing but by no means unpleasant dream, the only dark spots in which were the departure of Letta and the depravity of John Shanks, alias James Gibson, alias Stumps.

"Oh! Stumps, Stumps," he soliloquised, sadly, one day while standing on "the green" in the ​unromantic shade of a huge bale of cotton, "how could you behave so after being our trusted comrade so long!"

"Never mind Stumps just now," said Sam Shipton, making his appearance at the moment, "but come along with me at once, for we have received an invitation, through my good and remarkable friend Frank Hedley, to the grand entertainment to be given to-night at the palace of the chief and Bahee Sahib of Junkhundee."

"And who may that be?" asked Robin, with an incredulous smile.

"What! know you not the great chief whose praise is in the mouths of all—Hindu, Mohammedan, Jew, and Gentile, because he feeds and entertains them all like a prince?"

"He is the creation of your own brain, Sam, I fancy."

"No indeed," protested Sam, earnestly, "I do not jest. The Bahee Sahib is a wealthy young Mahratta chieftain, who has been consistently loyal to us, and who entertains mixed parties of Englishmen and natives in European style, and does his best to break down the barriers of prejudice and caste. He has been hospitably received on board the Great Eastern, it seems, and is now getting up a grand affair in honour of Captain Halpin and his officers. So, come along."

​"But, my dear Sam, you forget, we have not a dress suit between us, and in the present condition of our finances it would be folly to—"

"Fiddlesticks, Robin. We have only to make a couple of turbans out of bath-towels and a few peacock feathers; turn Persian shawls, which we can borrow, into kilts, put on slippers, bare our legs and paint them with red and blue stripes crossed, to indicate something of Scottish Highland origin, anoint our noses with blue bear's-grease, and—"

"Nonsense, Sam; be serious if you can, and consider what we are really to do."

"You 're so impatient, Robin. The thing has all been considered for us. We have nothing to do but accept our fate. Frank Hedley, who is exactly your size, has a dress suit which he will lend you, and a friend of his, who happens to be exactly and conveniently my size, has also a suit, and is equally accommodating. Come now, for time presses, and I am told the Lahee's wife loves punctuality—but she 's liberal-minded like her husband, and makes allowance for laziness, especially in hot weather. She is a regular trump, it seems, and quite amazed our electricians, during her visit to the big ship, by her intelligent comprehension of all they explained to her. She is an accomplished equestrian, and dresses as a native princess, with a huge ornament in her nose, but does not disdain to mingle with ​English ladies in the Bombay Rotten Row, and uses a European saddle."

The account which Sam had thus slightly sketched was more than borne out by the facts that evening. The young Rajah's reception-rooms, blazing with light, were decorated with all that the wealth of fancy could suggest or the wealth of precious metal procure, while music and perfume filled the air and intoxicated the senses.

For some time Sam and Robin moved slowly about in the crowded rooms, finding themselves rubbing shoulders, now with Eastern aristocrats in richest costume and glittering jewels, now with England's warriors in scarlet and blue; sometimes with Parsees, Hindus, Mohammedans, and Jews in their characteristic garbs, at other times with European civilians, like themselves, in sober black.

It was a bewildering scene, and the loud continuous murmur of many voices, chattering in many tongues, did not tend to decrease the bewilderment.

"What are they about over there?" said Robin, directing his companion's attention to a room in which the people appeared to be observing something with great attention.

"I don't know. Let 's go and see," said Sam.

A little polite pushing brought them into an apartment in which an English professor of conjuring, who had been engaged for the occasion, was ​exhibiting his tricks. They were poor enough, and would not have commanded much applause from any audience, except one that had met to enjoy whatever chanced to be provided.

In another room, however, they found a performer of much greater capacity—a man who possessed considerable powers as a musician, low comedian, and local satirist; he was noted for his delineations of native character, and succeeded in making the Parsees laugh heartily at his caricature of the Hindus, while he convulsed the Hindus with his clever skits on the Parsees. He also made effective reference to the Great Eastern and her work, bringing out the humorous aspects of telegraphy and of quick communication between India and England.

"Come, let 's go and see if we can find anything to eat," said Sam, when tired of this man.

"Who is that?" asked Robin, as they moved through the crowd.

"Why, that's the Bahee himself. See, he has got hold of Captain Halpin, and seems greatly pleased to lead him about."

The Rajah did indeed exhibit much satisfaction in his beaming brown face at having got hold of so noted a character as the commander of the monster ship, and it was pleasant to see the almost childlike glee with which, taking the captain by the ​hand, he threaded his way through the crowd, introducing him right and left to his friends. Not less pleasant was it to observe the lively interest with which the natives regarded the captain when they learned who he was.

At this point in the evening's proceedings, a gentleman in civilian costume came up to Sam Shipton, and asked him if he were acquainted with Mr. Davis—one of the petty officers of the Great Eastern.

"I know him slightly," said Sam.

"He has got into trouble, sir," said the stranger, "and begged me to find you, if possible, and take you to him. I have been on board the Great Eastern looking for you, and was directed here."

"That 's strange," returned Sam, "I have seldom spoken to the man. Are you sure he did not send you for some one else—one of his mess-mates?"

"Quite sure, sir. And he bade me urge you to go quickly, else you may be too late."

"Well—lead the way. Come, Robin, I 'm sorry to quit this gay and festive scene—especially before supper—but it can't be helped. You 'll go with me, and we can return together."

The stranger seemed to hesitate a moment, as if annoyed at Robin being thus asked to go, but, as if quickly making up his mind, led them out of the ​Rajah's residence, and,, after a smart walk, conducted them into one of the poorer districts of the city.

"What sort of trouble has the man got into?" asked Sam as they went along.

"I really do not know. He will tell you when you see him, I suppose. I am only a casual acquaintance of his, and came on this errand to oblige him, solely because he seemed in great mental distress and was very urgent."

Soon the conversation turned upon cable-laying, and, finding that Robin had been at the laying of the Atlantic cable of 1856, the stranger inquired about the attempts that had been made to injure that cable.

"Tell me, now, would you think it a sin," he said, with a peculiar look at Sam, "to drive a nail into the cable so as to destroy it, if you were offered the sum of ten thousand pounds?"

"Of course I would," said Sam, looking at his conductor with surprise. "I wonder that you should ask the question."

"Why should you wonder," returned the man with a smile, "at any question which aims at the investigation of that great enigma styled the human mind? I am fond of the study of character, and of those principles of good and evil which influence men. Under given circumstances and conditions, the commission of a certain sin is greatly more ​blameworthy than the commission of the same sin under different conditions and circumstances. Do you not think so?"

"Of course I do," said Sam. "The man who, having been born and brought up among pickpockets, and under strong temptation commits a theft, is not nearly so guilty as the man would be who, having been trained under refined and Christian influences, should commit a similar theft; but I do not see the application of your argument, for your question did not refer to the relative depth of guilt, but to the sinfulness or innocence of a certain dastardly act for a tempting sum of money."

"I may not have put my question very philosophically," returned the stranger, "but I would like to have your opinion as to whether you think, under any circumstances of distress—poverty, for instance, with those dependent on one dying of hunger—a man would be justified in destroying the power of a telegraph cable for a sum of money—part, let us suppose, paid in advance, and the remainder after the deed had been accomplished."

"My opinion is that no circumstances whatever would justify such an act," said Sam with indignation. "Don't you agree with me, Robin?"

"Of course I do," said Robin with even greater indignation.

"And I quite agree with you, gentlemen," said ​the stranger, with a wider smile than before; "but I like to have my opinions corroborated or combated by other minds. We have now reached our destination; please follow me, and stoop a little, for the ceiling of the passage is rather low, and the poor people here cannot afford to light it."

The recent discussion had diverted Sam's mind from the character of the place into which he had been led, but a suspicion which had been growing now assailed him forcibly.

"Keep your stick handy," he whispered to Robin, at the same time grasping more firmly a stout cudgel which he carried.

These precautions seemed needless, however, for the stranger, opening with a latch-key a door at the further end of the dark passage, ushered them into a dimly lighted room, where about a dozen men were seated round a table drinking and smoking.

The men rose on the entrance of the visitors and received them with courtesy.

"Mr. Davis will be glad to see you, sir," said one; "he has been in much anxiety, but here he comes and will speak for himself."

A door at the other end of the room opened, and a tall slightly-built man entered. Sam saw at once that he was not Davis.

"Fool!" growled this man, with a savage look ​at the stranger who had conducted them there, "you have brought the wrong man!"

"I had already begun to suspect as much," returned the other, with a light laugh.

Swallowing his disgust, apparently, with an effort, the slim man turned to Sam and said, "A mistake has been made, sir. One or two of my friends here will conduct you to any part of the city you may wish to go to."

"I require no assistance," said Sam, flushing with sudden indignation. "I believe that you are conspirators, and will take particular note of your dwelling, in order that I may spoil your game."

He was about to turn and quit the room, when he was suddenly seized from behind by two powerful men, who seemed to have come on the scene by rising through the floor! At the same moment Robin was similarly secured. They did not, however, submit tamely. Both were strong-bodied as well as high-spirited, and Sam was large as well as strong.

But what were their powers against such odds! For a few seconds they struggled furiously. Then, feeling that their efforts were fruitless, they ceased.

"It is as well to go quietly, my fine fellows," said the slim, man in a slightly sarcastic tone. "We are not only more than a match for you, but we happen to belong to a class of gentlemen who ​don't allow trifles to stand in their way. At the same time we object to murder when we can get along without it. Some of us will therefore conduct you to another part of the city. Now, I give you fair warning, if you struggle or try to make a noise on the way, we will silence you in a manner that will effectually keep you quiet for ever. Just have your knives handy, men, and don't exercise forbearance if these gentlemen turn out to be fools."

A prick in their necks by the point of some sharp instrument emphasised these words to Robin and Sam, and, at the same time, proved that the subordinates were quite ready, perhaps even anxious, to obey their superior. They suffered themselves, therefore, to be blindfolded, and led out of the house.

Of course once or twice they both thought of making a sudden struggle and endeavouring to throw off their captors, but the vice-like strength of the fingers that held them, and the recollection of the sharp instruments near their necks induced discretion; besides, the absence of the sound of footsteps told them that they could not count on aid from passers-by, even if the dwellers in such a region had been willing to assist them, which was not probable.

After passing quickly along several streets, the men who led them stopped and relaxed their hold.

​"Now, you stand quiet for half a minute," said one of them gruffly; "there 's a knife close to each of your spines at this moment."

Thus warned, the captives stood still for nearly a minute. Then Sam lost patience.

"Well," he said, angrily, "how long do you mean to keep us here?"

Receiving no reply, he suddenly pulled the handkerchief from his eyes and assumed the pugilistic attitude with the celerity of one whose life may depend on his action, hut the only enemy to he seen was Robin, who, having also pulled down the handkerchief, stood staring at his comrade in mute surprise.

"They 're gone!" cried Sam, bursting into a fit of laughter. "The villains! The scoundrels! But who can they be? I fear there can be little doubt as to what mischief they are up to."

"We have not the smallest clew to trace them by," said Robin, with a vexed expression.

"Not the smallest. I don't even know what quarter of the town we are in now," returned Sam.

"The handkerchiefs!" exclaimed Robin with sudden animation.

"Well, what of them?"

"They—they may have names in the corners."

Again the risible Sam burst into a loud laugh, as the idea of scoundrels possessing any handkerchieft ​of their own at all, much less having their names marked in the corners; and poor Robin, whose memories of maternal care had prompted the thought, felt some degree of confusion, which was deepened when he discovered that the kerchiefs with which their eyes had been bound were their own.

They were startled by a gruff voice demanding to know what they were laughing at and kicking up such a row at that time of the morning!

It was one of the guardians of the night, who became very polite on drawing nearer and being informed, in a mild voice, by Sam that they had lost their way and would be much indebted for guidance, for Sam thought it best to say nothing about their adventure until they had had ample time to think it over and decide what was best to be done.

Having been directed how to go, having lost themselves a second time, and been directed again by another guardian, they found themselves at last in the neighbourhood of the port, and here the sound of loud voices, as if engaged in some nocturnal orgies, was heard in the distance.

"As we seem in for a night of adventure," said Sam, "we may as well accept our fate and go see what it's all about."

"Agreed," said Robin.

Hurrying forward, they came upon a remarkable ​and picturesque scene. The engineers of the Great Eastern had chosen the previous day for the laying of the mile of land-line with which the cable was to be connected. The burying of it in its appointed home had commenced at half-past six in the evening and had continued all through the night. It was about 2 a.m. when our adventurers came upon the scene. The trench was cut through ground on which a number of soldiers were encamped, whose white tents looked ghostlike in the feeble star-light, and lines of naked natives were seen, waving lanterns, pushing along the mysterious cable, or, with hands and feet busily pressing down the loose soil that covered the buried portion.

The whole operation was conducted with a super-abundance of noise, for the burying of a rope in a a trench three feet deep was in itself such a tremendous joke to the coolies, that they entered upon it with much excitement as a sort of unusual piece of fun. That they were in some degree also impressed with the mysterious and important object of their work might have been gathered from their chant:—"Good are the cable-wallahs, great are their names; good are the cable-wallahs, wah! wah! wah! great are the cable-wallahs, wah!" which they continued without intermission all through the night, to their own intense delight and to the annoyance no doubt of ​the military unfortunates who were encamped on the ground.

Besides the naked fellows who, in their excitement and activity, resembled good-humoured, brown, demons, there were many other figures in English dress moving about, directing and encouraging, running from point to point, flitting to and fro like wills-o'-the-wisp, for all bore lights, and plunged ever and anon out of sight in the trench. Between three and four o'clock the work was completed; tests were taken, the portion of cable was pronounced perfect, and communication was thus established between the cable-house and Rampart Row. This was the first link in the great chain of submarine telegraphy between India and England.

"Now, Robin," said Sam, with a tremendous yawn, "as we've seen the first act in the play, it is time, I think, to go home to bed."

With a yawn that rivalled that of his comrade, Robin admitted the propriety of the proposal, and, half an hour later, they turned in, to sleep—"perchance to dream!"

DESCRIBES SEVERAL IMPORTANT EVENTS.

The laying of this thick shore-end of the cable was an important point in the great work.

By that time Robin and cousin Sam had been regularly installed as members of the expedition, and were told off with many others to assist at the operation.

The Chiltern carried the great coil in her tanks. After rounding Colaba Point into Back Bay, she found a barge waiting to receive some two-and-a-half miles of the cable, with which she was to proceed to the shore. The barge resembled a huge Noah's Ark, having a canvas awning to protect the cable, which was very sensitive to heat.

A measure of anxiety is natural at the beginning of most enterprises, and there were some who dreaded a "hitch" with superstitious fear, as if it would be a bad omen. But all went well.

"Now then, boys—shove her along; push her through," said an experienced leader among the ​cable-hands, who grasped the great coil and guided it. The men took up the words at once, and, to this species of spoken chorus, "shove her along, push her through," the snaky coil was sent rattling over the pulley-wheels by the tank and along the wooden gutter prepared for it, to the paying-out wheel at the Chiltern's stern, whence it plunged down into the barge, where other experienced hands coiled it carefully round and round the entire deck.

It is difficult to describe the almost tender solicitude with which all this was done. The cable was passed carefully—so carefully—through all the huge staples that were to direct its course from the fore-tank to the wheel at the stern. Then it was made to pass over a wheel here and under a wheel there, to restrain its impetuosity, besides being passed three times round a drum, which controlled the paying out. A man stood ready at a wheel, which, by a few rapid turns, could bring the whole affair to a standstill should anything go wrong. In the fore-tank eight men guided each coil to prevent entanglement, and on deck men were stationed a few feet apart all along to the stern, to watch every foot as it passed out. Three hours completed the transfer. Then the barge went slowly shoreward, dropping the cable into the sea as she went.

It was quite a solemn procession! First went a Government steam-tug, flaunting flags from deck ​to trucks as thick as they could hang. Then came the barge with her precious cargo. Then two boats full of cable-hands, and an official gig pulled by a Chinaman, while the steam-launch Electric kept buzzing about as if superintending all.

When the tug had drawn the barge shoreward as far as she could with safety, the smaller "Electric" took her place. When she also had advanced as far as her draught allowed, a boat carried to the shore a hawser, one end of which was attached to the cable. Then the cable-hands dropped over the sides of the barge up to waist, chest, or neck (according to size), and, ranging themselves on either side of the rope and cable, dragged the latter to the shore, up the trench made for its reception, and laid its end on the great stone table, where it was made fast, tested by the electricians, as we have said, and pronounced perfect.

A few more days had to pass before the insatiable Great Eastern was filled with coal and reported ready for sea. Then, as a matter of course, she wound up with, a grand feast—a luncheon—on board, at which many of the leading authorities and merchants of Bombay were present, with a brilliant company which entirely filled the spacious saloons.

"Owing to circumstances," said Sam to Robin that day, "over which we have no control, you and ​I cannot be included among the guests at this approaching feast."

"I 'm sorry for that, Sam," said our hero.

"Why so, Robin? Does a morbid devotion to chicken and ham, or sweets, influence you?"

"Not at all, though I make no pretence of indifference to such things, but I should so much like to hear the speeches."

"Well, my boy, your desire shall be gratified. Through the influence of our, I might almost say miraculous, friend, Frank Hedley, we shall be permitted to witness the proceedings from a retired corner of the saloon, in company with crockery and waiters and other débris of the feast."

At the appointed time the company assembled, and enjoyed as good a luncheon as money could procure.

"How some people do eat!" murmured Robin from his corner to Sam, who sat beside him.

"Yes, for it is their nature to," replied Sam.

After the first toast was drunk the company braced themselves to the mental work of the afternoon, and although, as a matter of course, a good deal of twaddle was spoken, there was also much that threw light on the subject of ocean telegraphy. One of the leading merchants said, in his opening remarks: "Few of those present, I daresay, are really familiar with the history of ocean telegraphy."

​"Ah!" whispered Robin to Sam, "that 's the man for me. He 's sure to tell us a good deal that we don't know, and although I have been ransacking Bombay ever since I arrived for information, I don't yet feel that I know much."

"Hold your tongue, Robin, and listen," said Sam.

"Mind your foot, sir," remonstrated one of the steward's assistants, who had a lugubrious countenance.

Robin took his foot out of a soup tureen, and applied himself to listen.

"When I reflect," continued the merchant, "that it is now fourteen years since the first ocean telegraph of any importance was laid,—when I remember that the first cable was laid after an infinity of personal effort on the part of those who had to raise the capital,—when I mention that it was really a work of house-to-house visitation, when sums of £500 to £1000, and even £10,000 were raised by private subscription, with a view to laying a telegraph cable between England and America, when I reflect that the Queen's Government granted the use of one of its most splendid vessels, the Agamemnon (Hear! hear! and applause), and that the American Government granted the use of an equally fine vessel, the Magara (Hear! hear! and another round of applause, directed at the American Consul, who was present),—

​("Five glasses smashed that round," growled the lugubrious waiter.)

"When I reflect," continued the merchant, "that the expedition set out in 1857 with the greatest hopefulness, but proved a total failure—that the earnest men (Hear! hear!) connected with it again set to work the following year, and laid another cable (Applause), which, after passing through it a few messages of great importance to England and America (Hear!) also ceased communication, which so damped the courage of all concerned, that for seven or eight weary years nothing was attempted —no, I should not say nothing, for during that period Mr. Cyrus Field (thunders of long-continued applause, during which the lugubrious waiter counted the demolition of six glasses and two dessert plates), without whose able and persevering advocacy it is a question whether to this day we should have had ocean telegraphy carried out at all—during that period, I say, Mr. Cyrus Field never gave himself rest until he had inspired others with some of the enthusiasm that burned so brightly in himself, which resulted in the renewed effort of 1866, with its failure and loss of 1213 miles of cable,—when I think of the indomitable pluck and confidence shown by such men as Thomas Brassey, Sir Samuel Canning, Sir James Anderson, Sir Daniel Gooch, Sir Richard Glass, Mr. George Elliot, Mr. Pender, Captain ​Sherard Osborn, and others—men of mind, and men of capital, and men who could see no difficulties—and I like men who can see no difficulties (Hear! hear! and loud applause),—

("You 'll see more difficulties than ye bargain for, if ye go through life makin' people smash crockery like that," growled the lugubrious waiter.)

"When I think of these men, and of the formation of the Telegraph Construction and Maintenance Company (Applause), and the successful laying of the 1866 cable, and the picking up and completion of the old cable (Loud cheers),—

("Hm! a decanter gone this time. Will you take your foot out of the soup tureen, sir," from the lugubrious man, and an impatient "hush!" from Robin.)

"When I think of all these things, and a great deal more that I cannot venture to inflict on the indulgent company (Go on!) I feel that the toast which I have the honour to propose deserves a foremost place in the toasts of the day, and that you will heartily respond to it, namely, Success to the Telegraph Construction and Maintenance Company, for that Company has laid scores of cables since its formation, and has now successfully commenced, and will doubtless triumphantly complete, the laying of the cable which we have met to celebrate to-day—the fourth great enterprise, I may remark, which ​the Company has undertaken—the cable that is soon to connect India with England."

The merchant sat down amid thunders of applause, during which the reckoning of breakages was lost, and finally abandoned by the lugubrious waiter.

At first Robin and Sam listened with great interest and profound attention, and the former treasured in his memory, or made pencil notes of, such facts and expectations as the following:—That only nine months previously had they commenced the construction of the cable which was now about to be laid; that Captain Halpin in the Great Eastern had laid the French Atlantic cable; that in a few weeks they hoped to connect Bombay with Malta, and two months later with England; that, a few months after that, England would be connected with the Straits of Malacca and Singapore. "In short," said one gentleman at the close of his speech, "we hope that in 1871 India will be connected, chiefly by submarine telegraph, with China, Australia, Europe, and America, and that your morning messages will reach home about the same hour at which they are sent from here, allowing, of course, for the difference in time; and that afternoon and evening messages from Europe will be in your hands at an early hour next morning."

At this point the heat and unpleasant fumes ​around him began to tell upon Robin, and he suggested that they had better go on deck for a little fresh air.

"I 'll not budge," said Sam, positively. "Why, the best is yet to come."

Saying this, to the surprise of Robin, Sam rose, went forward to the table, and asked permission to make a few remarks.

"Who is he?—what? eh!" exclaimed the chairman. "Turn him out," cried one. "Sit down," cried another, "No, no, let him speak," cried a third. "Don't you know it is Samuel Shipton, the great electrician?"

"Bravo! go on! speak out!" cried several voices, accompanied by loud applause.

"Gentlemen," began Sam in his softest voice, "I regard this as one of the greatest occasions of—of—my life." (Hear! hear! from a fussy guest; and Hush! hush! and then we shall hear here better, from an angry one). "I little thought," continued Sam, warming apparently with his subject—or the heat, "little thought that on this great occasion I could—could—I could (would or should; go on, man, from an impatient guest).

"Oh, Sam, don't stick!" cried Robin, in an agony of anxiety.

"Who's that? Put him out!" chorused several voices indignantly.

​"There, sir, you 've put your foot in it at last," said the lugubrious waiter.

Robin thought he referred to the interruption, but the waiter's eyes and forefinger directed his attention to the soup tureen, which, in his eagerness, he had sacrificed with a stamp. Finding that no further notice was taken of the interruption, he listened, while Sam continued:—

"Yes, gentlemen, I have some difficulty in starting, but, once set agoing, gentlemen, I can keep on like an alarum clock. What nonsense have some of you fellows been talking! Some of you have remarked that you shall be able to exchange messages with England in a few hours. Allow me to assure you that before long you will accomplish that feat in a few minutes."

"Pooh! pooh!" ejaculated an irascible old gentleman with a bald head.

"Did you say 'pooh!' sir?" demanded Sam, with a terrible frown.

"I did, sir," replied the old gentleman, with a contemptuous smile.

"Then, sir, take that."

Sam hurled a wine decanter at the old gentleman, which, missing its mark, fell with a loud crash at the feet of Robin, who awoke with a start to find Sam shaking him by the arm.

"Wake up, Robin," he said; "man, you 've lost the ​best speech of the evening. Come—come on deck now, you 've had quite enough of it."

"Yes, an' done enough o' damage too," growled the lugubrious waiter.

So Robin became gradually, aware that Sam's speech was a mere fancy, while the smashing of the soup tureen was a hard fact.

It may not, however, be out of place to remark here that the prophecy made by Sam in Robin's dream, did afterwards become a great reality.

THE CABLE LAID.

"I say, Robin," said Samuel Shipton, as he encountered our hero and Slagg that same evening in the streets of Bombay, "the government land telegraph was reported this morning to have recovered its health."

"Well, what of that?"

"I have taken advantage of the lucid interval to send a telegram to uncle Rik. No doubt your father has by this time received the telegram we sent announcing our safety and arrival here, so this one won't take them by surprise."

"But what is it about?" asked Robin.

"It is sent," replied Sam, "with the intention of converting uncle Rik into a thief-catcher. That stupid waiter told me only this morning that the time he followed Stumps to the harbour, he overheard a sailor conversing with him and praising a certain tavern named the Tartar, near London Bridge, to which he promised to introduce him on their ​arrival in England; so it struck me that by telegraphing to uncle Rik to find out the owners of the Fairy Queen and the position of the Tartar, he might lay hold of Stumps on his arrival and recover our stolen property."

"But I hope he won't put him in limbo, sir," said Jim Slagg. "I 've no objection to recover our property, but somehow I don't like to have the poor fellow transported. You see I can't help thinkin' he was half- cracked when he did it."

"He must take his chance, I suppose," said Sam, thoughtfully. "However, the telegram is off, and, if it ever reaches him, uncle Rik will act with discretion."

"I agree with Jim," said Robin, "and should be sorry to be the means of ruining our old comrade."

"It did not strike me in that light," returned Sam, a little troubled at the thought. "But it can't be helped now. In any case I suppose he could not be tried till we appear as witnesses against him."

"I ain't much of a lawyer," said Slagg, "but it do seem to me that they couldn't very well take him up without some proof that the property wasn't his."

"It may be so," returned Sam; "we shall see when we get home. Meanwhile it behoves us to square up here, for the Great Eastern starts early to-morrow and we must be on board in good time to-night."

​Now, you must not imagine, good reader, that we intend to drag you a second time through all the details of laying a deep-sea cable. The process of laying was much the same in its general principles as that already described, but of course marked by all the improvements in machinery, etc., which time and experience had suggested. Moreover, the laying of the Indian cable was eminently, we might almost say monotonously, successful, and, consequently, devoid of stirring incident. We shall therefore merely touch on one or two features of interest connected with it, and then pass on to the more important incidents of our story.

When Robin and his comrades drew near to the big ship, she was surrounded by a perfect fleet of native boats, whose owners were endeavouring to persuade the sailors to purchase bananas and other fruits and vegetables; paroquets, sticks, monkeys, and fancy wares.

Next morning, the 14th of February 1870, the Great Eastern lifted her mighty anchor, and spliced the end of the 2375 miles of cable she had on board to the shore-end, which had been laid by the Chiltern. This splice was effected in the presence of the Governor of Bombay, Sir Seymour Fitzgerald, who, with a small party, accompanied the Great Eastern a short distance on its way. Then, embarking in his yacht, they bade God-speed to the expedition, ​gave them three ringing cheers, and the voyage to Aden began.

Soon the cable-layers were gliding merrily over the bright blue sea at the rate of five or six knots an hour, with the cable going quietly over the stern, the machinery working smoothly, the electrical condition of the cable improving as the sea deepened, and flocks of flying-fish hovering over the crisp and curly waves, as if they were specially interested in the expedition, and wished to bear it company.

All went well, yet were they well prepared for accident or disaster, as Sam informed Robin on the morning of the 1 6th while sitting at breakfast.

"They have got two gongs, as you 've observed, no doubt," he said, "which are never to be sounded except when mischief is brewing. The first intimation of fault or disaster will be a note from one of these gongs, when the ship will be instantly stepped, the brakes put on, and the engines reversed."

"Everything is splendidly prepared and provided for," said Robin; "hand me the sugar, Sam."

"The elasticity and good behaviour of the big ship are all that could be desired," remarked one of the engineers, "though she carries 3000 tons more dead-weight than when she started with the Atlantic cable in 1865."

At that moment there was a lull of consternation round the breakfast-table, for a drumming upon metal ​was heard! For one instant there was a gaze of doubt round the table. Then they rose en masse; cups were upset, and chairs thrown over; the cabin was crossed at racing speed,—Captain Halpin leading—the staircase surmounted, and a rush made to the testing-room.

There all was quiet and orderly; the operators placidly pursuing their labours, working out their calculations, or watching the tell-tale spot of light on the scale, and all looking up in silent surprise at the sudden hubbub round their door. It was a false alarm, caused by the steady dripping of a shower-bath on its metal bottom! That was all, but it was sufficient to prove how intensely men were on the qui vive.

It was a wonderful scene, the deck of the Great Eastern—incomprehensible by those who have not seen it. The cabins, offices, workshops, and machinery formed a continuous line of buildings up the centre of the vessel's deck, dividing it into two streets an eighth of a mile long. At the end of one of these were the wheels and drums running from the top of the aft-tank to the stern; and between them and the two thoroughfares were wooden houses which shut them out from view. There was a farmyard also, where cattle were regularly turned out for exercise; there were goats which were allowed to go free about the decks, and chickens which took ​the liberty of doing so, sometimes, without leave; there were parrots being taken home by the sailors, which shrieked their opinions noisily; and there were numerous monkeys, which gambolled in mischievous fun, or sat still, the embodiment of ludicrous despair: while, intermingling with the general noise could be heard the rattle of the paying-out wheels, as the cable passed with solemn dignity and unvarying persistency over the stern into the sea. It seemed almost unheeded, so perfect and self-acting was the machinery; but it was, nevertheless, watched by keen sleepless eyes—as the mouse is watched by the cat—night and day.

The perfection not only achieved but expected, was somewhat absurdly brought out by the electrician in the cable-house at Bombay, who one day complained to the operators on board the Great Eastern that the reply to one of his questions had been from three to twelve seconds late! It must be understood, however, that although the testing of the cable went on continuously during the whole voyage, the sending of messages was not frequent, as that interfered with the general work. Accordingly, communication with the shore was limited to a daily statement from the ship of her position at noon, and to the acknowledgment of the same by the electrician at Bombay.

One of the greatest dangers in paying out consists ​in changing from tank to tank when one is emptied, and a full one has to be commenced. This was always an occasion of great interest and anxiety.

About midnight of the 19th the change to the fore-tank was made, and nearly every soul in the ship turned out to see it. The moon was partially obscured, but darkness was made visible by a row of lanterns hung at short intervals along the trough through which the cable was to be passed, making the ship look inconceivably long. As Robin Wright hurried along the deck he observed that both port and starboard watches were on duty, hid in the deep shadow of the wheels, or standing by the bulwark, ready for action. Traversing the entire length of the deck—past the houses of the sheep and pigs; past the great life-boats; past the half-closed door of the testing-room, where the operators maintained their unceasing watch in a flood of light; past the captain's cabin, a species of land-mark or half-way house; past a group of cows and goats lying on the deck chewing the cud peacefully, and past offices and deck-cabins too numerous to mention,—he came at last to the fore-tank, which was so full of cable that the hands ready to act, and standing on the upper coil, had to stoop to save their heads from the deck above.

The after-tank, on the contrary, was by that time . ​

THE LAST COIL.—Page 361.

​a huge yawning pit, twenty-five feet deep, lighted by numerous swinging lamps like a subterranean church, with its hands, like Lilliputians, attending to the last coil of the cable. That coil or layer was full four miles long, but it would soon run out, therefore all was in readiness. The captain was giving directions in a low voice, and seeing that every one was in his place. The chiefs of the engineers and electricians were on the alert. Every few minutes a deep voice from below announced the number of "turns" before the last one. At last the operation was successfully accomplished and the danger past, and the cable was soon running out from the fore-tank as smoothly as it had run out of the other.

The tendency of one flake or coil of cable to stick to the coil immediately below, and produce a wild irremediable entanglement before the ship could be stopped, was another danger, but these and all other mishaps of a serious nature were escaped, and the unusually prosperous voyage was brought to a close on the 27th of February, when the Great Eastern reached Aden in a gale of wind—as if to remind the cable-layers of what might have been—and the cable was cut and buoyed in forty fathoms water.

The continuation of the cable up the Red Sea, the successful termination of the great ​enterprise, and the start of our hero and his companions for Old England after their work was done, we must unwillingly leave to the reader's imagination.

UNCLE RIK'S ADVENTURES.

Uncle Rik seated in Mr. Wright's drawing-room; Mr. Wright in an easy-chair near the window; Mrs. Wright—with much of the lustre gone out of her fine eyes—lying languidly on the sofa; Madge Mayland at work on some incomprehensible piece of netting beside her aunt,—all in deep mourning.

Uncle Rik has just opened a telegram,, at which he stares, open eyed and mouthed, without speaking, while his ruddy cheeks grow pale.

"Not bad news, I trust, brother," said poor Mrs. Wright, to whom the worst news had been conveyed when she heard of the wreck of the Triton. Nothing could exceed that, she felt, in bitterness.

"What is it, Rik?" said Mr. Wright, anxiously.

"Oh! nothing—nothing. That is to say, not bad news, certainly, but amazing news. Boh! I 'm a fool."

He stopped short after this complimentary ​assertion, for uncle Rik had somewhere read or heard that joy can kill, and he feared to become an accomplice in a murder.

"Come, Rik, don't keep us in suspense," said his brother, rising; "something has happened."

"O yes, something has indeed happened," cried Rik, "for this telegram is from Sam Shipton."

"Then Robin is alive!" cried Mrs. Wright, leaping up, while Madge turned perfectly white.

"No—that is to say—yes—it may be so—of course must be so—for,—bah! what an ass I am! Listen."

He proceeded to read Sam's telegram, while Mrs. Wright covered her face with her hands and sank trembling on the sofa.

The telegram having suffered rather severe mutilation at the hands of the foreigners by whom it was transmitted, conveyed a very confusing idea of the facts that were intended, but the puzzling over it by the whole party, and the gradual, though not perfect, elucidation of its meaning, had perhaps the effect of softening the joyful intelligence to a bearable extent.

"Now," said uncle Rik, while the perspiration of mental effort and anxiety stood on his bald forehead, "this is the outcome of it all. Sam clearly says 'all well,' which means, of course, that Robin is alive—thank God for that. Then he refers to a ​previous telegram, which, of course, must be lost, for it hasn't come to hand. Bah! I wonder the nasty things ever do come to hand. Anyhow, that telegram must have been meant to announce their safe arrival at Bombay, undoubtedly."

"Of course—I see it now," said Mrs. Wright, with a deep sigh.

"Of course," echoed Rik. "Then there 's some queer reference to a ship and a Fiery Queen, and a Stamps and a Shunks, and a Gibson, and a thief, and three bags, and the port of Loudon, which of course means London, and a public-house named, apparently, Torture—"

"Tartar, I think, uncle," said Madge.

"Well, Tartar if you like, it 's much the same if you catch him. And it winds up with a girl—which is not surprisin'—who is to be expectorated—"

"Expected, surely," said Madge, with a rather hysterical laugh, for the conflicting feelings within her tended rather to tears.

"So be it, Madge—expected, with an unreadable name beginning with an L,—and that 's all; and a pretty penny he must have paid to send us such a lot o' rubbish."

"It has brought the oil of gladness to our hearts, brother," said Mr. Wright, "and is worth its cost. But, now, what do you intend to do?"

​"Do!" exclaimed Rik, who was never happier than when he could explode his feelings in action. "I 'll go this moment to the port of London, find out the owners of the Fiery Queen, make particular inquiries about the Stampses, Shunkses, and Gibsons, visit Torture public-houses—though they 're all that, more or less—and see if I can hear anything about girls to be expectorated, with names beginning with L. There—these are my sailing directions, so—up anchor and away!"

Uncle Rik immediately obeyed his own commands, and spent the remainder of that day in what he styled cruising. And he cruised to some purpose, for although he failed to obtain any information as to the girl, he discovered the owners of the Fairy—not Fiery—Queen, who said that she was expected home in a few weeks, but that they knew nothing whatever about the rather remarkable names which he submitted for their consideration. With this amount of information he was fain to rest content, and returned in an elevated state of mind to his brother's house.

Some weeks after these events, the Wright family was again seated round the social board, as uncle Rik called it, when two visitors were announced. The social meal happening to be tea, and the drawing-room at that time in dishabille, owing to carpet disturbances, the visitors were shown into the ​dining-room—a lady, accompanied by a pretty little girl.

"Excuse my calling at an unusual hour," said the lady, "but I trust the occasion of my visit will be a sufficient excuse. I have just arrived from Bombay, and hasten to present a letter from your son, and to deliver over my interesting charge, this dear child, Letta Langley, whom—"

"The expectorated girl!" shouted uncle Rik, leaping up, "begins with an L,—two L's indeed. Bah, I 'm an idiot! Excuse my excitement, madam—pray go on."

Slightly surprised, but more amused, the lady went on to tell all she knew about Robin and his friends, while the happy mother read snatches of Robin's letter through her tears, and Mr. Wright and Madge plied the lady with questions and tea, and Letta, taking at once to uncle Rik, ecstatified, amazed and horrified that retired sea-captain with her charming earnest little ways, her wonderful experiences, and her intimate acquaintance with pirates and their habits.

A letter from Robin to his mother, and another from Sam to Mr. Wright, arrived next morning, and proved to be those which had been written immediately after their landing at Bombay, and had been posted, so the writers thought, at the time their first telegram was despatched. But the letters had been ​given to Stumps to post, and Stumps was not blessed with a good memory, which may account for the delay in transmission. These letters corroborated all the lady had said. Thus was Letta formally installed in the Wright family, and uncle Rik solemnly charged himself with the discovery of her mother!

"Depend upon it, my dear," he said, with an amount of self-sufficient assurance and indomitable resolution that carried sweet consolation to the child's heart, "that I 'll find your mother if she 's above ground, though the findin' of her should cost me the whole of my fortune and the remainder of my life."

And nobly did Rik redeem his promise. He obtained special introduction to the British Museum, consulted every Directory in existence, hunted up every widow of the name of Langley in the kingdom, and found the right one at last, not three miles distant from his own door in London. Captain Rik, it must be known, had a room in London furnished like a cabin, which he was wont to refer to as his "ship" and his "bunk," but he paid that retreat only occasional visits, finding it more agreeable to live with his brother.

It was a fine Sabbath morning when Rik took Letta's hand and led her into the presence of her mother. He would not let himself be announced, but pushed the child into the drawing-room and shut the door.

​With similar delicacy of feeling we now draw a curtain over the meeting of the mother and the long-lost child.

"It 's almost too much for me, tough old sea-dog though I am, this perpetual cruisin' about after strange runaway craft," said uncle Rik, as he and Letta walked hand in hand along the streets one day some weeks later. "Here have I been beatin' about for I don't know how long, and I 'm only in the middle of it yet. We expect the Fairy Queen in port to-night or to-morrow."

"But you won't hurt poor Stumps when you catch him, will you?" pleaded Letta, looking earnestly up into her companion's jovial face. "He was very nice and kind to me, you know, on Pirate Island."

"No, I 'll not hurt him, little old woman," said Rik. "Indeed, I don't know yet for certain that Stumps is a thief; it may be Shunks or it may be Gibson, you see, who is the thief. However, we 'll find out before long. Now then, good-bye, I 'll be back soon."

He shook hands with Letta at Mr. Wright's house, she and her mother having agreed to reside there until Robin's return home.

Wending his way through the streets until he reached one of the great arteries of the metropolis, he got into a 'bus and soon found himself on the ​banks of the Thames. Arrived at the docks, one of the first vessels his eyes fell on was the Fairy Queen.

Going on board, the first man he met was the captain, to whom he said, touching his hat—

"Excuse me, captain; may I ask if you have a man in your crew named Stumps?"

"No, sir, no such name on my books."

"Nor one named Shunks?"

"No, not even Shunks," replied the captain, with a sternly-humorous look, as if he thought the visitor were jesting.

"Nor Gibson?" continued Rik.

"Yes, I 've got one named Gibson. What d' ye want with him?"

"Well, I have reason to believe that he is—or was—a friend of a friend of mine, and I should like to see him."

"Oh! indeed," responded the captain, regarding his visitor with a doubtful look. "Well, Gibson has just got leave to go ashore, and I heard him say to one of his mates he was going to the Tartar public-house, so you 'll see him there, probably, for he is not invisible or'narily. But I don't know where the Tartar is."

"But I know," returned Captain Rik; "thank you. I 'll go seek him there."

Stumps sat alone in one of the boxes of the Tartar public-house, which at that hour chanced to ​be nearly empty. His face was buried in his hands, and a pot of untasted beer stood at his elbow. Poor Stumps! Conscience had been remarkably busy with him on the voyage home. He would have given worlds to have got back to Bombay, return the ill-gotten bags, and confess his guilt, but it was too late—too late!

There is something very awful in these words, too late! We read of and hear them often, and we use them sometimes, lightly it may be, but it is only when they can be used by ourselves with reference to something very serious, that we have a glimmering of their terrible significance. There is a proverb, "It is never too late to mend," which is misleading. When the dream of life is over, and the doom is fixed, it is too late to mend. No doubt the proverb is meant to refer to our condition while this life lasts, but even here it is misleading. When the murderer withdraws the knife and gazes, it may be, horror-struck at the expressionless face of his victim, it is too late. He cannot mend the severed thread of life. When the reckless drunkard draws near the end of his career, and looks in the mirror, and starts to see the wreck of his former self, it is too late. Health will never more return. Not too late, blessed be God, for the salvation of the soul, but too late for the recovery of all that was held dear in the life of earth.

​Yes, Stumps had many a time while on the sea muttered to himself, "Too late!" He did so once again in that low public-house near the docks. Uncle Rik overheard him, and a feeling of profound pity arose within him.

"I beg pardon," he said, and at the first word Stumps looked quickly, almost fiercely, up, "your name, I believe, is Gibson."

"No, it isn't—I, that is to say—Well, yes it is. Sailors has got aliases, you know, sometimes. What d' ye want wi' me?"

"You were acquainted in Bombay," resumed Captain Wright, very quietly, as he sat down opposite to Stumps, "with a young man named Wright—Robin Wright?"

Stumps's face became deadly pale.

"Ah! I see you were," resumed the captain; "and you and he had something to do, now, with bags of some sort?"

The captain was, as the reader knows, profoundly ignorant of everything connected with the bags except their existence, but he had his suspicions, and thought this a rather knowing way of inducing Stumps to commit himself. His surprise, then, may be imagined when Stumps, instead of replying, leaped up and dashed wildly out of the room, overturning the pot of beer upon Captain Rik's legs.

​Stumps shot like an arrow past the landlord, a retired pugilist, who chanced to be in the doorway. Captain Rik, recovering, darted after him, but was arrested by the landlord.

"Not quite so fast, old gen'l'man! As you 've had some of your mate's beer, you 'd better pay for it."

"Let me go!—stop him!" cried the captain, struggling.

As well might he have struggled in the grasp of Hercules. His reason asserted itself the instant the fugitive was out of sight. He silently paid for the beer, went back to the Fairy Queen to inform the captain that his man Gibson was a thief—to which the captain replied that it was very probable, but that it was no business of his—and then wandered sadly back to tell the Wright family how Gibson, alias Stumps, alias Shunks, had been found and lost.

THE WRIGHT FAMILY REUNITED, AND SAM BECOMES HIGHLY ELECTRICAL.

That much-abused and oft-neglected meal called tea had always been a scene of great festivity and good-fellowship in the Wright family. Circumstances, uncontrollable of course, had from the beginning necessitated a dinner at one o'clock, so that they assembled round the family board at six each evening, in a hungry and happy frame of body and mind (which late diners would envy if they understood it), with the prospect of an evening—not bed—before them.

In the earlier years of the family, the meal had been, so to speak, a riotous one, for both Robin and Madge had uncontrollable spirits, with tendencies to drop spoons on the floor, and overturn jugs of milk on the table. Later on, the meal became a jolly one, and, still later, a chatty one—especially after uncle Rik and cousin Sam began to be frequent guests.

​But never in all the experience of the family had the favourite meal been so jolly, so prolific of spoony and porcelain accidents, so chatty, and so generally riotous, as it was on a certain evening in June of the year 1870, shortly after the return home of Robin and his companions.

Besides the original Wright family, consisting of father, mother, Robin, and Madge, there were assembled uncle Rik, Sam Shipton, Mrs. Langley, Letta, and—no—not Jim Slagg. The circle was unavoidably incomplete, for Jim had a mother, and Jim had said with indignant emphasis, "did they suppose all the teas an' dinners an' suppers, to say nothin' o' breakfasts, an' messmates an' chums an' friends, crammed and jammed into one enormous mass o' temptation, would indooce him to delay his return to that old lady for the smallest fraction of an hour?" No, Jim Slagg was not at the table, but the household cat was under it, and the demoralising attentions that creature received on that occasion went far to undo the careful training of previous years.

The occasion of the gathering was not simple. It was compound. First, it was in commemoration of Robin's birthday; second, it was to celebrate the appointment of Sam Shipton to an influential position on the electrical staff of the Telegraph Construction and Maintenance Company, also Sam's ​engagement to Marjory Mayland; third, to celebrate the appointment of Robin Wright to a sufficiently lucrative and hopeful post under Sam; and, lastly, to enjoy the passing hour.

"Ladies and gentlemen," said uncle Rik, getting on his feet with some difficulty, when the tea, toast, muffins, eggs, and other fare had blunted the appetites, "I rise to propose the toast of the evening, and mark you, I don't mean to use any butter with this toast (Hear, from Sam) unless I 'm egged on (Oh!) to do it—so I charge you to charge your cups with tea, since we 're not allowed grog in this tee-total ship—though I 'm free to confess that I go in with you there, for I 've long since given up the use o' that pernicious though pleasant beverage, takin' it always neat, now, in the form of cold water, varied occasionally with hot tea and coffee. My toast, ladies and gentlemen, is Rob—(Rik put his hand to his throat to ease off his neck-tie) is Robin Wright, whom I 've known, off an' on, as a babby, boy, an' man, almost ever since that night—now twenty years ago, more or less—when he was launched upon the sea in thunder, lightning, and in rain. I've known him, I say—ever since—off an' on—and I 'm bound to say that—"

The captain paused. He had meant to be funny, but the occasion proved too much for him.

"Bless you, Robin, my lad," he gasped, suddenly ​stretching his large hand across the table and grasping that of his nephew, which was quickly extended. After shaking it with intense vigour he sat promptly down and blew his nose.

The thunders of applause which burst from Sam and Mr. Wright were joined in even by the ladies, who, in the excess of their sympathy, made use of knife-handles and spoons with such manly vigour that several pieces of crockery went "by the board," as the captain himself remarked, and the household cat became positively electrified and negatively mad, inasmuch as it was repelled by the horrors around, and denied itself the remaining pleasure of the tea-table by flying wildly from the room.

Of course, Robin attempted a reply, but was equally unsuccessful in expressing his real sentiments, or the true state of his feelings, but uncle Rik came to the rescue by turning sharply on Sam and demanding—

"Do you really mean to tell me, sir, that, after all your experience, you still believe in telegraphs and steamboats?"

Sam promptly asserted that he really did mean that.

"Of course," returned the captain, "you can't help believing in their existence—for facts are facts—but are you so soft, so unphilosophical, so idiotical ​as to believe in their continuance? That's the point, lad—their continuance. Are you not aware that, in course o' time, rust they must—"

"An' then they 'll bu'st," interpolated Robin.

"Hee! hee! ha!" giggled Letta, who, during all this time, had been gazing with sparkling eyes and parted lips, from one speaker to another, utterly forgetful of, and therefore thoroughly enjoying, her own existence.

"Yes, then they 'll bu'st," repeated Rik, with an approving nod at Robin; "you 're right, my boy, and the sooner they do it the better, for I 'm quite sick of their flashings and crashings."

"I rather suspect, Sam," said Mr. Wright, "that the gentlemen with whom you dined the other day would not agree with uncle Rik."

"Whom do you refer to, George?" asked Mrs. Wright.

"Has he not yet told you of the grand 'inaugural fête,' as they call it, that was given at the house of Mr. Pender, chairman of the Telegraph Construction and Maintenance Company, to celebrate the opening of direct submarine telegraphic communication with India?"

"Not a word," replied Mrs. Wright, looking at Sam.

"You never mentioned it to me," said Madge, with a reproachful glance in the same direction.

​"Because, Madge, we have been so busy in talking about something else," said Sam, "that I really forgot all about it."

"Do tell us about it now," said Mrs. Langley, who, like her daughter, had been listening in silence up to this point,

"A deal o' rubbish was spoken, I daresay," observed the captain, commencing to another muffin, and demanding more tea.

"A deal of something was spoken, at all events," said Sam, "and what is more to the point, an amazing deal was done. Come, before speaking about it, let me propose a toast—Success to Batteries and Boilers!"

"Amen to that!" said Robin, with enthusiasm.

"If they deserve it," said the captain, with caution.

The toast having been drunk with all the honours, Sam began by saying that the fête was a great occasion, and included brilliant company.

"There were present, of course," he said, "nearly all the great electrical and engineering lights of the day, also the Prince of Wales and the Duke of Cambridge, with a lot of aristocrats, whom it is not necessary to mention in the presence of a democratic sea-dog like uncle Rik."

"Don't yaw about to defame me, but keep to your course, Sam."

​"Well, you have no idea what an amount of interest and enthusiasm the affair created. You all know, of course, that the Indian cable, which Robin and I had a hand in laying, is now connected with the lines that pass between Suez, Alexandria, Malta, Gibraltar, Lisbon, and England; and the company assembled at Mr. Pender's house witnessed the sending of the first messages direct from London to Bombay; and how long, do you think, it took to send the first message, and receive a reply?—only five minutes!"

"You don't mean it, Sam!" exclaimed Rik, getting excited, in spite of his professed unbelief.

"Indeed I do," replied Sam, warming with his subject. "I tell you the sober truth, however difficult it may be for you to believe it. You may see it in the papers of the 24th or 25th, I suppose. Here is my note-book, in which I jotted down the most interesting points.

"The proceedings of the evening were opened by the managing director in London sending a telegram to the manager at Bombay.

"'How are you all?' was the brief first telegram by Sir James Anderson. 'All well,' was the briefer first reply from Bombay. The question fled from London at 9.18 exactly—I had my watch in my hand at the time—and the answer came back at 9.23—just five minutes. I can tell you it was ​hard to believe that the whole thing was not a practical joke. In fact, the message and reply were almost instantaneous, the five minutes being chiefly occupied in manipulating the instruments at either end. The second message between the same parties occupied the same time. After that Sir Bartle Frere sent a telegram to Sir Seymour Fitzgerald, the Governor of Bombay, as follows:—'Sir Bartle Frere wishes health and prosperity to all old friends in Bombay.' This was received by the Company's superintendent at Bombay, and the acknowledgment of its receipt sent back in four minutes and fifty seconds! But the reply from the Governor, 'Your old friend returns your good wishes,' did not come to us for thirty-six minutes, because the message had to be sent to the Governor's house, and it found his Excellency in bed.

"Next, a message was sent by Lady Mayo in London to Lord Mayo at Simla, which, with the acknowledgment of it, occupied 15 minutes in transmission. Of course time was lost in some cases, because the persons telegraphed to were not on the spot at the moment. The Prince of Wales telegraphed to the Viceroy of India, I congratulate your Excellency on England and India being now connected by a submarine cable, I feel assured this grand achievement will prove of immense benefit to the welfare of the Empire. Its success is thus matter ​of imperial interest.' which telegram passed out, and the acknowledgment of its receipt in India was returned to London, all within eleven minutes, but, as in the former case, the Viceroy was in bed, so that his reply was not received till forty-five minutes had elapsed. Had the Viceroy been at the Indian end of the wire, he and the Prince could have conversed at an average rate of five minutes a sentence.

"Many other messages were sent to and fro," continued Sam, turning over the leaves of his notebook, "not only from London to India, but to each of the intermediate stations on the cable line, so that we had direct intercourse that night with the King of Portugal, the Governors of Gibraltar, Malta, and Aden, and the Khedive of Egypt. But that was not all. We put the old and the new world into communication, so that the 'press of India sent salam to the press of America.' Sir James Anderson also telegraphed to Cyrus W. Field, Esq., the father of submarine telegraphy in my estimation (Hear, hear, from Robin), and he sent a reply, which began, 'Your message of this evening received by me before five o'clock this afternoon.' Mark that, Captain Rik, the message received before it was sent, so to speak!"

"Ay, ay, lad—I know—difference of longitude,—fire away."

"Well, I have fired away most of my ammunition ​now," returned Sam, and if you don't haul down your colours, it must be because you have nailed them to the mast and are blind to reason. I may add, however, that the Viceroy of India sent a telegram to the President of the United States, to which he got a reply in seven hours and forty minutes, but the slowness of this message was accounted for by the fact of accidental and partly unavoidable delay in transmission both in Washington and London. At 1.30 a.m. of the 24th the traffic of the line became pressing, and all complimentary messages ceased with one from Bombay, which said, 'Sun just risen; delightfully cool; raining.'"

"Doesn't it seem as if the Baron Monkhausen's tales were possible after all?" remarked Mrs. Wright, looking as if her mind had got slightly confused.

"The Baron's tales are mere child's-play, mother," said Robin, "to the grand facts of electricity."

"That 's so, Robin," said Sam, still turning over the leaves of his note-book, "and we had some magnificent experiments or illustrations at the fête, which go far to prove the truth of your remark—experiments which were so beautiful that they would have made the eyes of Letta sparkle even more gorgeously than they are doing at present, if she had seen them."

Letta blushed, returned to self-consciousness for a moment, looked down, laughed, looked up as ​Sam proceeded, and soon again forgot herself in a fixed and earnest gaze.

"The two telegraph instruments communicating with India and America, which stood on two tables, side by side, in Mr. Pender's house, were supplied by two batteries in the basement of the building. Eighty cells of Daniel's battery were used upon the Penzance circuit for India, and 100 cells on the Brest circuit for America. The ordinary water-pipes of the house served to connect the batteries with the earth, so as to enable them to pump their electricity from that inexhaustible reservoir."

"I was not aware that electricity had to be pumped up through pipes like water," interrupted Mrs. Wright, on whose mild countenance a complication of puzzled expressions was gradually gathering.

"It is not so pumped up," said Sam. "The pipes were used, not because they were pipes, but because they were metal, and therefore good conductors."

"But you haven't told us about the beautiful experiments yet," murmured Letta, a little impatiently.

"I 'm coming to them, little one," said Sam. "One battery exhibited the power as well as the beauty of that mysterious force which we call electricity. It was the large Grove battery. A current passed from it to copper wires, in a certain manner, produced a dazzling green light, and the ​copper melted like wax. With silver a still brighter and purer green flame was the result. With platinum an intense white light was given off, and the molten metal fell in globules of exceeding brilliancy. With iron lovely coruscations were exhibited, the boiling vapour flying and burning in all directions; and a platinum wire three feet long was in an instant melted into thousands of minute globules. All this showed the power of electricity to produce intense heat when resistance is opposed to its passage."

"It is remarkably human-like in that respect," said Captain Rik, in an under-tone.

"Then its power to produce magnetism," continued Sam, "was shown by Lord Lindsay's huge electro-magnet. This magnet, you must know, is nothing but a bit of ordinary metal until it is electrified, when it becomes a most powerful magnet. But the instant the current is cut off from it, it ceases to be a magnet. If you understood much about electricity," said Sam, looking round on his rapt audience, "I might tell you that it is upon this power of making a piece of iron a magnet or not at pleasure that depend the Morse and Digne telegraph instruments; but as you don't understand, I won't perplex you further. Well, when a piece of sheet copper was passed between the poles of Lord Lindsay's giant magnet, it was as ​difficult to move as if it had been sticking in cheese—though it was in reality touching nothing!—influenced only by attraction. ('That beats your power over Sam, Madge,' whispered Robin. 'No it doesn't,' whispered Madge in reply.) Then, one most beautiful experiment I could not hope to get you to understand, but its result was, that a ten-gallon glass jar, coated inside and out with perforated squares of tinfoil, was filled with tens of thousands of brilliant sparks, which produced so much noise as completely to drown the voices of those who described the experiment. A knowledge of these and other deep things, and of the laws that govern them, has enabled Sir William Thomson and Mr. Cromwell F. Varley to expedite the transmission of messages through very long submarine cables in an enormous degree. Then the aurora borealis was illustrated by a large long exhausted tube—"

"I say, Sam," interrupted Rik, "don't you think there 's just a possibility of our becoming a large long-exhausted company if you don't bring this interesting lecture to a close?"

"Shame! shame! uncle Rik," cried Robin,

As the rest of the company sided with him, the captain had to give way, and Sam went on.

"I won't try your patience much longer; in fact I have nearly come to an end. In this long ​exhausted tube, ten feet in length and three inches in diameter, a brilliant and beautiful crimson stream was produced, by means of an induction coil. In short, the occasion and the proceedings altogether made it the most interesting evening I have ever spent in my life, e—except—"

Sam paused abruptly, and looked at Madge. Madge blushed and looked down under the table,—presumably for the cat,—and the rest of the company burst into an uproarious fit of laughter, in which condition we will leave them and convey the reader to a very different though not less interesting scene.

DESCRIBES A HAPPY HOME AND A HAPPIER MEETING.

In a small wayside cottage in the outskirts of one of those picturesque villages which surround London, an old woman sat at the head of a small deal table, with a black teapot, a brown sugar-basin, a yellow milk jug, and a cracked tea-cup before her.

At the foot of the same table sat a young man, with a large knife in one hand, a huge loaf of bread in the other, and a mass of yellow butter in a blue plate in front of him.

The young man was James Slagg; the old woman was his mother. Jim had no brothers or sisters, and his father chanced to be absent at market, so he had the "old lady" all to himself.

"Well, well, Jim," said Mrs. Slagg, with a loving look at her son's flushed face, "you 've told me a heap o' wonderful tales about telegrumphs, an' tigers, an' electrocity an' what not. If you was as great a liar as you was used to be, Jim, I tell 'ee plain, lad, I wouldn't believe one word on it. But ​you 're a better boy than you was, Jim, an' I do believe you—indeed I do, though I must confess that some on it is hard to swallow."

"Thank 'ee, mother," said Jim, with a pleasant nod, as he cut an enormous slice from the loaf, trowelled upon it a mass of the yellow butter, and pushed in his cup for more tea.

"It was good of ye, Jim," said the old woman, "to leave all yer fine friends and come straight away here to see your mother."

"Good o' me!" ejaculated Jim, with his mouth full—too full we might say—"what goodness is there in a feller goin' home, eh? Who 's finer, I should like to know, than a feller's mother?"

"Well, you are a good boy, Jim," said the old woman, glancing at a superannuated clock, which told of the moments in loud, almost absurd solemnity; "but if you don't stop talkin' and go on wi' your eatin', you 'll lose the train."

"True, mother. Time and tide, they say, wait for no man; but trains is wuss than time or tide, they won't even wait for a woman."

"But why go at all to-day, Jim; won't to-morrow do?"

"No, mother, it won't do. I didn't mean to tell 'ee till I came back, for fear it should be a mistake; but I can't keep nothin' from you, old lady, so I may as well ease my mind before I go. The fact ​is, I 've just heard of the whereabouts of John Shanks—Stumps, you know—my old mate, that I 've told you bolted with all our treasure from Bombay. Ah! mother, if I 'd only brought that treasure home wi' me, it 's a lady you 'd have bin to-day. I had all sorts o' plans for you—a coach an' six was—"

"Never mind your plans, Jim, but tell me about poor Stumps."

"Well, mother, a tramp came past here, an' had a bit of a talk wi' me yesterday. You know I ginerally have a bit of a chat wi' tramps now, ever since that city missionary—God bless him—pulled me up at the docks, an' began talkin' to me about my soul. Well, that tramp came here early this mornin', sayin' he 'd bin in a poor woman's house in the city, where there was a man dyin' in a corner. While he was talkin' with some o' the people there he chanced to mention my name, an' observed that the dyin' man got excited when he heard it, and called to the tramp and asked him about me, and then begged him, for love and for money, which he offered him, to come and fetch me to him as fast as he could, sayin' that his name was Stumps, and he knew me. So, you see, as the next train is the first that—you needn't look at the clock so often, old lady; it 's full ten minutes yet, and I 'll back my legs to do it in three."

​"Don't forget to take your Bible wi' you, dear boy."

Jim Slagg rose with a pleasant nod, slapped the breast of his coat, on which the oblong form of a small book in the pocket could be traced, said "Good-day, mother," and left the cottage.

It was not long before he stood in the dark passage which led to the room described to him by the tramp. The old woman who rented it gave him her unasked opinion of her lodger before admitting him.

"You 've got no notion, sir, what a strange character that young man is."

"O yes, I have; let me see him," said Slagg.

"But, sir," continued the landlady, detaining him, "you must be careful, for he ain't hisself quite. Not that he 's ever done anythink wiolent to me, poor young man, but he 's strong in his fits, an' he raves terribly."

"Has no doctor bin to see him?" asked Slagg.

"No; he won't let me send for one. He says it 's o' no use, an' he couldn't afford to pay for one. An' oh! you 've no notion what a miser that poor young man is. He must have plenty of money, for the box as he takes it out on—an' it 's at his head he keeps it day and night, ginerally holdin' it with one hand—seems full o' money, for it 's wonderful heavy. I could see that when he brought it here, ​an' there 's no clo'es in it, that I can see, when he opens it, to get at the few pence he wants now an' again. An' he starves hisself, an' says he 's not fit to live, an' calls hisself sitch awful names, an'—"

"Well, well, show me his room," said Slagg, with as much decision in his tone as compelled immediate obedience.

In the corner of a small room, on a truckle-bed, with scant bedding, lay the emaciated form of John Shanks, alias Stumps, alias James Gibson. He had raised himself on one elbow, and was gazing with great lustrous invalid eyes at the door, when his old comrade entered, for he had been watching, and heard the first sound of footsteps in the passage.

"Oh! Jim Slagg," he cried, extending a hand which bore strong resemblance to a claw, it was so thin. "Come to me, Jim. How I 've wished an' longed, an'—"

He stopped and burst into tears, for he was very weak, poor fellow, and even strong men weep when their strength is brought low.

"Come now, Stumps," said Slagg, in a serious voice, as he sat down on the bed, put an arm round his old comrade's thin shoulders, and made him lie down, "if you go to excite yourself like that, I 'll—I 'll—quit the room, an' I won't come back for an hour or more."

​"No! O no!" exclaimed the sick man, clutching Slagg's arm with a trembling grip, "don't leave me, Jim—don't, don't! I shall die if you do! I 'm dyin' anyhow, but it will kill me quicker if you go."

"Well, I won't go. There, keep quiet, my poor old Stumps."

"Yes, that 's it—that 's it—I like to hear the old name," murmured the sick man, closing his eyes. "Say it again, Jim—say it again."

"Stumps," said Slagg, getting down on his knees, the better to arrange and grasp his former comrade, "don't be a fool now, but listen. I have come to look after you, so make your mind easy."

"But I 've been such a beast to you, Jim; it was so awful shabby," cried Stumps, rousing himself again, "and I 've been so sorry ever since. You can't think how sorry. I have repented, Jim, if ever a man did. An' I 'd have come back and confessed long ago, if I 'd had the chance, but I can get no rest—no peace. I 've never spent a rap of it, Jim, except what I couldn't help—for you know, Jim, body an' soul wouldn't stick together without a little o' suthin' to eat an' drink; an' when I was ill I couldn't work, you know. See, it's all here—all here—except what little—"

He stopped abruptly, having raised himself to open the lid of the box at his elbow, but his ​strength failed, and he sank on the pillow with a groan.

"Stumps," said Slagg, "come, old boy, you an' me will have a bit of prayer together."

The sick man opened his great eyes in astonishment. It was so unlike his old friend's brusque rollicking character to propose prayer, that he fancied he must be dreaming, and the possibility of the visit turning out unreal, induced an expression of distress on his haggard countenance. On being ordered, however, in the peremptory and familiar tones of former days, to shut his eyes, he felt reassured and became calm, while his friend prayed for him.

It was not a set or formal prayer by any means. It sounded strangely like a man asking a friend, in commonplace terms, but very earnestly, to give him what he stood in great need of; and what Jim asked for was the salvation of his friend's soul and his restoration to health. The petition, therefore, was remarkably brief, yet full of reverence, for Jim, though naturally blunt and straightforward, felt that he was addressing the great and blessed God and Saviour, who had so recently rescued his own soul.

After saying "Amen!" which the sick man echoed, Slagg pulled out his Bible and read through the fourteenth chapter of John's gospel, commenting ​quietly as he went along, while his comrade listened with intense earnestness. At the first verse Jim paused and said, "This wasn't written to holy and sinless men. 'Let not your heart be troubled,' was said to the disciples, one o' them bein' Peter, the man who was to deny Jesus three times with oaths and curses, and then forsake Him. The Lord came to save sinners. It would be a poor look-out for you. Stumps, if you thought yourself a good man."

"But I don't—oh! I don't, and you know I don't!" exclaimed the sick man vehemently.

"Then the Lord says, 'Let not, your heart be troubled,' and tells you to believe in God and Himself"

At the second verse Slagg remarked that it would be a sad sad thing if the mansion prepared, among the many mansions, for his friend were to be left empty.

"But how am I to get to it, Jim; how am I ever to find the way?"

"Just what the disciple named Thomas asked—an' he was a very doubting follower of Jesus, like too many of us. The Master said to him what He says to you and me, 'I am the way and the truth and the life; no one cometh unto the Father but by me.'"

At the ninth verse the sailor-missionary said, ​"Jesus is God, you see, so we 're safe to trust Him," and, at the thirteenth verse, "Whatsoever ye shall ask in my name that will I do," he said. "Now, we have asked Jesus to save you, and He will do it, by His Holy Spirit, as He has saved me—has saved millions in time past, and will save millions more in time to come. Why, you see, in the sixteenth verse He tells you He will pray the Father to send you a Comforter, who will stay with you for ever. Has He not reason then for beginnin' with 'let not your heart be troubled'? And that same Comforter, the Holy Spirit, is to 'teach us all things,' so, you see, every difficulty is taken out of our way. 'Arise, let us go hence.' Now, my old messmate, I have arisen. Will you not arise and go with me, both of us looking unto Jesus?"

"I will—God helping me!" cried the sick man, literally arising from his couch and raising both arms to heaven.

"There, now—thank the Lord; but you must lie down again and keep quiet," said Jim, gently and kindly forcing his friend backward.

Stumps did not resist. He closed his eyes, and the restful feeling that had suddenly arisen in his heart when he said the momentous words, "I will," coupled with exhaustion, resulted almost instantaneously in a quiet slumber.

"When did he eat last?" asked Slagg of the old ​woman, in a low voice, for he had been taught, or had learned intuitively, that few things are more disheartening in a sick-room than a whisper.

"This morning he breakfasted at six, but it was on'y a hap'orth o' bread and a drink o' cold water."

"And how dare you starve your lodger in that way?" demanded Slagg, leading the astonished woman into the passage and closing the door. "Don't you know that starving a man is equal to murdering him, and that you 'll be liable to be hung if he dies? There, take this half-sov. and be off to the nearest shop, an' buy—let me see—sassengers and steaks and—oh, you know better than me what a sick man wants. Get along with you, and be back sharp. Stay! where are your matches? Ah! Any coals? Good, now away with you and fetch a doctor too, else I 'll fetch a policeman, you bolster of bones."

Thus ordered, threatened, and adjured, the landlady, half-amused, and more than half-frightened at the visitor's gushing energy, hurried from the house, while Slagg returned to the miserable room, and did his best to render it less miserable by kindling a splendid fire.

It is, perhaps, unnecessary to add, that a breakfast soon filled that room with delicious odour, such as had not been felt in that lowly neighbourhood for many years; that Stumps, after a refreshing ​sleep, partook of the feast with relish; that Jim Slagg also partook of it—of most of it, indeed—and enjoyed it to the full; that the old landlady was invited to "fall to," and did fall to with alacrity; that the domestic cat also managed to fall to, surreptitiously. Without invitation, and not the less enjoyably on that account; that a miserable semi-featherless but unconquerable canary in a cage in the window took care that it was not forgotten; and that several street boys, smelling the viands from afar, came round the outer door, became clamorous, and were not sent empty away.

It may, however, be advisable to add, that Stumps did not die; that joy of heart, good feeding, and—perhaps—the doctor, brought him round, and that he afterwards went to the country to spend the period of convalescence in the cottage by the roadside, with Slagg's mother.

IN WHICH THE STORY FINDS A "FAULT," AND THE ELECTRICAL CURRENT ENDS.

Now, it is not in the nature of things that man, in his present state, should attain to full satisfaction. He may, indeed he should, attain to contentment, but as long as there are higher and better things within his reach, he must of necessity remain in some degree unsatisfied.

Some such idea must have been passing through Robin Wright's brain one fine morning, as he slowly paced the deck of a small schooner with his friend Sam Shipton, for he suddenly broke a prolonged silence with the following remark:—

"I don't know how it is, Sam, but although I am surrounded with everything that should make a fellow happy, I 'm—I 'm not happy. In fact, I 'm as miserable as it is possible to be!"

"Come now, Robin, don't exaggerate," said Sam in a remonstrative tone. "Hyperbole is very objectionable, especially in young men. You know that if you were tied to a huge gridiron over a slow ​fire, you would be more miserable than you are at present."

Robin smiled and admitted the truth of this, but nevertheless reiterated his assertion that he was decidedly unhappy.

This conversation, we may remark, took place on board of Sam Shipton's yacht, off the west coast of Scotland, several years after the events narrated in the previous chapter.

"Well, now, it is strange," said Sam, with an earnestly sympathetic air and tone of voice, but with the faintest possible twinkle in the extreme corner of one of his eyes. "Let me see—everything, as you justly remark, ought to make you happy here. The weather, to begin with—people always begin with the weather, you know—is splendid, though there is a thundery look about the horizon to the west'ard. Then our yacht, the Gleam, is a perfect duck, both as to her sea-going and sailing qualities, and Captain James Slagg is a perfect seaman, while Stumps is a superlative steward and cook. Our time is our own, and the world before us where to choose. Then, as to our companionship, what female society could be more agreeable than that of my wife Madge, and her bosom friend Letta, who, since she has grown up, has become one of the most beautiful, fascinating, charming,—but why go on, when, in the language of the poet, ​'adequate words is wantin'!' And Letta's mother is second only to herself. Then as to the men, could there be found anywhere finer fellows than uncle Rik and Ebenezer Smithy and Frank Hedley—to say nothing of myself and our splendid little boy Sammy? I can't understand it, Robin. You 're not ill, are you?"

"Ill! no. Never was better in my life."

"Well, then, what is it? Be confidential, my boy. The witching hour of sunrise is fitted for confidential communications. You 're not in love, are—"

"Hush, Sam! the skylight is open. Come forward to the bows. Yes, Sam, I am in love."

"Well, Robin, I can't pretend ignorance, for I know it—at least I have seen it."

"Seen it!" echoed Robin, "how is that? I have never by word or look given the slightest indication to any one of the state of my feelings."

"True, Robin, as regards words, but there are other modes of indication, as must be well known to a celebrated electrician like yourself. The fact is, my dear boy, that you and Letta have been rubbing your intellects together for so many years, that you have electrified each other—the one positively, the other negatively; and even a Manx cat with an absent mind and no tail could hardly fail to observe the telegraphic communication which ​you have established by means of that admirable duplex instrument, a pair of eyes."

"You distress me very much, Sam," returned Robin, seriously. "I assure you I have never consciously done anything of the sort, and I have never opened my lips to Letta on the subject—I dare not."

"I believe you as to your consciousness; but, to be serious, Robin, why should being in love make you miserable?"

"Because it makes me doubt whether Letta cares for me."

"Nonsense, Robin. Take my advice, put an end to your doubts, and make sure of your ground by taking heart and proposing to Letta."

"I dare not, Sam. It is all very well for a fine manly fellow like you to give such advice, but I am such a poor, miserable sort of—"

"Hallo, fasser!" cried a merry voice at that moment, "how red de sun am!"

The owner of the voice—a mere chip of a child, in perfect miniature middy costume—ran up to its father and was hoisted on his shoulder.

"Yes, the sun is very red, like your own face, Sammy, my boy, to say nothing of cousin Robin's. Where is mamma?"

The question was answered by mamma herself, our old friend Madge Mayland, coming up the ​companion hatch,—tall, dark, beautiful, like the spirit of departed night. She was followed by Letta,—graceful, fair, sunny, like the spirit of the coming morn.

"Sunbeam, ahoy!" came up through the cabin skylight at that moment, like the sonorous voice of Neptune.

"Well, grunkle Rik, w'at is it?" shouted Sammy, in silvery tones, from his father's shoulder.

"Grunkle" was the outcome of various efforts made to teach Sammy to call the old captain grand-uncle.

"Where have you stowed away my hair-brush, you rascal?" cried the voice of thunder.

"It 's under my bunk, grunkle; I was bracking yous boots vith it."

The thunder subsided in tempestuous mutterings, and Sammy, feeling that he had begun the day well, struggled out of his father's arms and went careering round the deck into every possible position of danger. He kept them all lively until Stumps caught him and extinguished him, for a time, with breakfast.

"Uncle Rik," said Sam, while that meal was being discussed in the snuggest little cabin that could be imagined, "did you hear of the extraordinary manner in which a whale was caught by a telegraph cable lately?"

​"No, I didn't, Sam, an' what 's more, I wouldn't believe it if I did."

"It is true, nevertheless," said Sam, breaking his fifth egg—sea breezes being appetising.

"How did it happen, Sam?" asked Madge.

"In a very curious manner, Madge. It will amuse Letta, for I know she takes a deep interest in cables."

"Indeed it will," said Letta, who was the soul of earnest simplicity; "I delight in electric cables."

Robin looked at Letta, and wished that he were an electric cable!

"It happened to the Persian Gulf cable, quite recently," continued Sam, addressing himself to Letta. "The cable between Kurrachee and Gwadur, a distance of 300 miles, suddenly failed one evening. Now, you must know that electrical science has advanced with such rapid strides of late, that we have the power to discover pretty nearly the exact position of a fault in a cable. Of course I cannot expect a young lady to understand the technical details of the mode in which this is done, but you will understand that by tests taken at either end the damage appeared to be about 118 miles from Kurrachee, and a telegraph steamer was sent with an electrical and engineering staff to repair it. The steamer reached the supposed locality early on the morning of the second day out, and proceeded ​at once to grapple for the cable, though a thick fog prevailed at the time, and a heavy sea was running. The soundings at the place were very irregular, implying a rugged bottom of submarine mountain tops and valleys. On winding in the cable unusual resistance was experienced, as if it were foul of rocks, and when, after great difficulty, they drew it up they found that this was caused by the body of an immense whale, with two and a half turns of the cable round it immediately above the tail."

"Pooh! boh!" exclaimed uncle Rik, "I don't believe it."

"But I do, uncle," returned Sam, as he opened his sixth egg, "for I read the account of it in one of the engineering journals, in which dates and names were given. The steamer was the Amber Witch, commanded by Captain Bishop, and the staff of operators were under Mr. Harry Mance. The body of the huge creature was found to be rapidly decomposing, the jaws falling away as it reached the surface, and sharks had evidently been devouring it. The tail, which measured twelve feet across, was covered with barnacles at the extremities."

"But how could it have entangled itself so?" asked Mrs. Langley.

"They suppose that at the time the whale had found a part of the cable hanging in a deep loop over a submarine precipice, and, thinking the chance ​a good one no doubt for scraping off the barnacles and other parasites that annoy whales very much, had probably twisted the cable round him with a flip of his tail. Anyhow, the fact is unquestionable that it held him fast until he was fished up dead by the electricians and engineers."

"How strange!" murmured Letta.

"It is indeed," responded Robin, "the most extraordinary case I ever heard of, though cables are subject to many singular accidents. I remember one case of accident to the cable across the river Yar, in the Isle of Wight. A bullock fell from the deck of a vessel, and, in its struggles, caught the cable and broke it."

"I have read of several very singular cases," said Sam, "in which cables have been attacked and damaged by inhabitants of the sea. The Cuba and Florida cable was once damaged by the bite of some large fish, and a similar accident happened to the China cable. In the Malta-Alexandria cable, a piece of the core from which the sheathing had been worn was found to have been bitten by a shark, and pieces of the teeth were found sticking in the gutta-percha."

"I thought it was to the Singapore cable that that happened," said Robin.

"No, but something similar happened to it. That cable was laid in December. In the following ​March a stoppage occurred. The fault was spotted at 200 miles from Singapore. When hauled up, the cable was found to have been pierced, and bits of crushed bone were sticking in the hole. The piece was cut out and sent to Mr. Frank Buckland, who, after long and careful examination, came to the conclusion that it had been the work of a saw-fish."

Dear me, Mr. Shipton," said Mrs. Langley, "you speak as if every part of the world were connected by electric cables."

"And such is the case," said Sam; "we have now direct communication by submarine cable and land telegraph with every part of Europe; with Canada and the United States; down South America, nearly to Cape Horn; with Africa from Algiers to the Cape of Good Hope; with India from Afghanistan to Ceylon; with China from Pekin to Hong-Kong; and down through the Malacca Archipelago, Australia, and Tasmania."

"I say, Sam, are you a member of the Royal Geographical Society, or a walking atlas?" asked uncle Rik.

"In short," continued Sam, not heeding the interruption, "there isn't a civilised quarter of the globe which is not tied to us by telegraph, and from which we might not hear any morning of the events of the preceding day."

​"Always excepting Central Africa and the two poles," said the captain.

"I said civilised quarters," retorted Sam, "and, as far as I know, the poles are inhabited only by bears."

"True, I forgot, the poles are barely civilised," said uncle Rik.

"Now, Master Sammy," growled a deep voice from the adjoining galley, "you keep your hands out o' that copper."

"Fasser," shouted a silvery voice from the same region, "'Tumps is naughty. I wants to wass my hands in de soup, an' he won't let me."

"Quite right. Keep him in order, Stumps," said the unfeeling Sam, senior.

"Dere—pa says. I 's kite right, an' to keep you in order, 'Tumps," said the silvery voice. (Then, after a few minutes), "Grunkle Rik, is you finish bekfist?"

"Ay, ay, Sunbeam, quite finished."

"Den come on deck an' p'ay vid me."

Uncle Rik rose with a laugh, and obediently vent on deck to play. But the play did not last long, for that day ominous clouds rose in the west, and, overspreading the sky, soon drenched the little yacht with rain. Towards evening the rain ceased, but the wind increased to a gale, and the weather showed signs of becoming what is known among ​seamen, we believe, as dirty. Ere long the low mutterings of thunder increased to mighty peals, and the occasional gleams of lightning to frequent and vivid flashes, that lit up the scene with the brilliancy of full moonlight.

"I wish we were nearer shore," said Letta, timidly, to Robin, as they stood looking over the bulwarks; "what is the land we see far away on our left?"

"The Island of Mull," returned Robin.

"Better if it was further away," growled Captain Rik, who overheard the remark. "We want plenty of sea-room on a night like this."

"We 've got sea-room enough," observed "Captain" Slagg, with the confidence of a man who knows well what he is about, as he stood by the tiller, balancing himself with his legs well apart.

"You 've got a lightning conductor on the mast, of course?" observed Captain Rik to Sam.

"No," replied Sam.

"Sam!" exclaimed the captain in a tone of intense surprise, "you, of all men, without such a safeguard."

"Well, uncle Rik," replied Sam with a laugh, "yachts are not always fitted with conductors. But I 'm not so bad as you think me. I had ordered a special conductor with some trifling novelties of construction for the yacht, but it ​was not ready when we started, so we had to sail without it. However, it is not once in a thousand times that a vessel is struck by lightning."

While Sam was yet speaking, a flash of lightning almost blinded them, and the little schooner received a shock which told of disaster. Next moment the roar of reverberating thunder drowned the crash of timber as the topmast went overboard, carrying the bowsprit and its gear along with it.

Fortunately no one was hurt, but the schooner became unmanageable, owing to the mass of wreckage which hung to her.

Jim Slagg, seizing an axe, sprang to the side to cut this away, ably seconded by all the men on board, but before it could be accomplished the Gleam had drifted dangerously near to the rocks on the coast of Mull. To add to the confusion, the darkness became intense.

Captain Rik, forgetting or ignoring his years, had thrown off his coat and was working like a hero with the rest. The ladies, unable to remain below, were clinging to the stern rails, Madge holding her little boy tightly in her arms, and the spray dashing wildly over all.

Another moment and the Gleam struck on the rocks with tremendous violence. Only by the lightning could they see the wild rocky shore on which they had drifted.

​Instinctively each member of the little crew drew towards those nearest and dearest.

"Get out the boat!" shouted Captain Slagg; but the men could not obey, for a heavy sea had anticipated them, and the little dingy was already careering shoreward, bottom up.

The next wave lifted the Gleam like a cork, and let her down on the rocks like fifty-six tons of lead. A flash of lightning revealed for a moment a range of frowning cliffs, as if to add horror to a scene that was already sufficiently appalling. Then all was again dark as Erebus.

In a frenzy of resolution Captain Rik seized an axe with the view of extemporising a raft, when the Gleam parted amidships, and we might almost say went out, leaving her crew struggling in the waves.

Sam had seized his wife with his strong left arm—he happened to be left-handed—and buffeted the waves with his right. Madge held on to Sammy with the power of maternal love. Sam was aware of that, and felt comparatively at ease in regard to his first-born.

Robin's arm had been round Letta's waist—unknown to himself or her!—when the Gleam, struck. It did not relax when he felt that they were afloat. Frank Hedley gallantly offered to take charge of Mrs. Langley.

Ebenezer Smith, being unable to swim, confessed ​the fact, with something of a gasp, to Captain Rik, who considerately told him never to mind.

"I can swim for both," he said, tying a piece of rope-yarn tight round his waist, for he had long before cast off coat, vest, and braces; "but you ought to be ashamed of yourself, a man come to your time o' life, an' not able to swim!"

"But I never lived near the sea, and had no one to teach me," pleaded Ebenezer in a tremblingly apologetic voice, for the roar of united wind, waves, and thunder was really tremendous even to those who could swim.

"What o' that?" returned Captain Rik, sternly. "Was there no river or pond nigh? Even a horse-trough or a washing-tub would have sufficed to make a man of you. As for teaching—what teaching did you want? Swimmin' ain't Latin or Greek! It ain't even mathematics—only aquatics. All the brute beasts swim—even donkeys swim without teaching. Boh! bah! There, lay hold o' me—so. Now, mind, if you try to take me round the neck with your two arms I 'll plant my fist on the bridge of your nose, an' let you go to Davy Jones's locker."

A flash of lightning revealed Captain Rik's face in such a way that Ebenezer Smith resolved to obey him to the letter.

It was at this point of their conversation that the Gleam went down—or out—and they sank with a ​gurgle, coming up next moment, however, with a gasp.

Strange to say, after the first plunge and overthrow amid the boiling waves, the swimmers found themselves in almost still water.

"You 'd better let me take Sammy, ma'am," said Captain Slagg, swimming quietly alongside of Madge, and speaking in the calm tone of a man taking an evening stroll.

"Is that you, Slagg?" asked Sam, who was striking out vigorously.

"Yes, sir, it is," said Slagg. "You 've no need to exert yourself, sir, so violently. I know the spot well. We 've bin washed clean over the reef by the wave that sank us, into a sort o' nat'ral harbour, an' we ain't far from shore. I can feel bottom now, sir, which, bein' a six-footer, you 'll touch easy."

"So I do!" exclaimed Sam, letting down his feet. "Madge, darling, cheer up, we've got soundings. Give Sammy to Slagg. There, we 'll do famously now."

Only those who have been for a few moments in deadly peril can understand the feeling of intense relief that came to Sam Shipton's heart when he felt his toes touch ground on that eventful night. The feeling was expressed in his tone of voice as he asked Slagg whether he had seen any of the others.

​"No, sir, I ain't seen 'em for want o' light, but I 've heerd 'em. Stumps is splutterin' behind us like a grampus. If you 'll hold on a bit an' listen you 'll hear him. He 's a bad swimmer, and it 's all he can do to save hisself. If he only knowed he could reach bottom with his long legs, he 'd find it easier. Not quite so tight, Sammy, my boy, and keep off the wind-pipe—so; you 're quite safe, my lad. As for the rest of 'em, sir, they all swim like ducks except Mr. Ebbysneezer Smith, but he 's took charge on by Captin Rik, so you may keep your mind easy. There's a bit o' flat beach hereabouts, an' no sea inside the reef, so we 'll git ashore easy enough—let's be thankful."

Jim Slagg was right. They got ashore without difficulty, and they were thankful—profoundly so—when they had time to think of the danger they had escaped.

After a few minutes' rest and wringing of salt water from their garments, they proceeded inland to search for shelter, and well was it for the ship-wrecked party that the captain of the lost yacht was acquainted with the lie of the land, for it was a rugged shore, with intermingled fields and morasses, and wooded rocky heights, among which it would have been difficult, if not impossible, to thread one's way in the dark without severe damage to the shins. But Jim Slagg led them to a cottage not far from ​the sea, where they received from the family resident there at the time a warm and hearty Scottish welcome.

It is not uncommon, we suspect, for eccentric natures to undertake the most important matters at the most unsuitable times and in the most ridiculous manners. At all events Robin Wright, while stumbling among the rocks and rugged ground of that midnight march in Mull, dripping wet and with the elements at war around him, conceived the idea of declaring his unalterable, not to say unutterable, attachment to Letta Langiey, who leant heavily on the arm of her preserver. But Robin was intensely sensitive. He shrank from the idea (which he had only got the length of conceiving), as if it had been a suggestion from beneath. It would be unfair, mean, contemptible, he thought, to take advantage of the darkness and the elemental noise to press his suit at such a time. No, he would wait till the morrow.

He did wait for the morrow. Then he waited for the morrow afterwards, and as each morrow passed he felt that more morrows must come and go, for it was quite obvious that Letta regarded him only as a brother.

At last, unable to bear it, our unhappy hero suddenly discovered that one of the morrows was the last of his leave of absence, so he said good-bye ​in despair, and parted from his companions, who could not resist the genial hospitality of their new friends in the cottage on the west of Mull.

Ten days later Sam got a letter from Robin, telling him that he had received a cable-telegram from India, from their friend Redpath, offering him a good situation there, and that, having reached the lowest depths of despair, he had resolved to accept it, and was sorry he should not have an opportunity of saying good-bye, as he was urged to start without a day's delay.

Sam was staying with his friends at the Oban Hotel at the time, having at last managed to tear himself away from the cottage in Mull.

He instantly ran out and telegraphed—

"Don't accept on any account."

Then he sought Mrs. Langley, and opened Robin's case to her. Mrs. Langley listened with a smile of intelligence, and soon after went to her daughter's room, the window of which commanded a splendid view of the western sea.

"Letta, dear, are you moralising or meditating?"

"Both, mamma."

"Well, I will try to help you," said Mrs. Langley, seating herself by the window. "By the way, did you hear that Mr. Wright has been offered a lucrative appointment in the Telegraph Department of India, and is going off at once;—has not time ​even to say good-bye to his old friend Sam Shipton?"

Letta turned very pale, then extremely red, then covered her face with both hands and burst into tears.

"So, Letta, you love him," said her mother, gently. "Why did you not let me know this sooner?"

"Oh, mamma!" said poor Letta, "why do you put it so—so—suddenly. I don't love him—that is—I don't know that I love him. I 've never thought about it seriously. He has never opened his lips to me on the subject—and—and—"

"Letta, dear," said her mother, tenderly, "would you wish to prevent his going away if you could? Open your heart to your mother, darling."

Letta laid her head on her mother's shoulder, but spoke not.

A few minutes later Mrs. Langley went to Sam and said—

"Robin must not go to India."

Sam instantly went by the shortest conceivable route to London, where he found Robin in his room feverishly packing his portmanteau, and said—

"Robin, you must not go to India."

From that text he preached an eloquent lay-sermon, which he wound up with the words, "Now, my boy, you must just propose to her at once."

​"But I can't, Sam. I haven't got the pluck. I 'm such a miserable sort of fellow—how could I expect such a creature to throw herself away on me? Besides, it 's all very well your saying you have good ground for believing she cares for me; but how can you know? Of course you have not dared to speak to her?"

Robin looked actually fierce at the bare idea of such a thing.

"No, I have not dared," said Sam.

"Well, then. It is merely your good-natured fancy. No, my dear fellow, it is my fate. I must bow to it. And I know that if I were to wait till I see her again, all my courage would have oozed away—"

"But I don't intend that you shall wait, Robin," interrupted Sam. "You need not go on talking so selfishly about yourself. You must consider the girl. I 'm not going to stand by and see injustice done to her. You have paid marked attention to her, and are bound in honour to lay yourself at her feet, even at the risk of a refusal."

"But how, Sam? I tell you if I wait—"

"Then don't wait,—telegraph."

Robin gazed at his friend in stupefied amazement.

"What! make a proposal of marriage by telegraph?"

"Even so, Robin. You began life with ​electricity, so it is quite in keeping that you should begin a new departure in life with it."

Sam rose, sought for paper, and with pencil wrote as follows:—

"From Mr. E. Wright, London, to Miss Letta Langley,——Hotel, Oban.—I can stand it no longer. May I come to see you?"

Presenting this to his friend, Sam said, "May I despatch it?"

Robin nodded, smiled, and looked foolish.

An hour later Mrs. Langley, sitting beside her daughter, took up a pen, and wrote as follows:—

"From Miss Letta Langley, Oban, to E. Wright, London.—Yes."

Presenting this to her daughter, she said, "May I send it?"

Letta once more covered her face with her hands, and blushed.

Thus it came to pass that our hero's fate in life, as well as his career, was decided by the electric telegraph.

But the best of it was that Robin did go to India after all—as if to do despite to his friends, who had said he must not go. Moreover, he took Letta with him, and he hunted many a day through the jungles of that land in company with his friend Redpath, and his henchman Flinn. And, long afterwards, he returned to England, a sturdy ​middle-aged man, with a wife whose beauty was unabated because it consisted, chiefly, in that love of heart to God and man which lends never-fading loveliness to the human countenance.

Awaiting them at home was a troop of little ones—the first home-instalment of a troop of lesser ones who accompanied the parent stems. All of these, besides being gifted with galvanic energy and flashing eyes, were impressed with the strong conviction, strange to say, that batteries, boilers, and submarine cables, were the most important things in the whole world, and the only subjects worth being played at by reasonable human children.

THE END.

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