en
the brig which was bringing him home and the _Golden Cloud_ enabled him
to climb into the bows of that ill-fated vessel before she swung clear
again. There was a slight difficulty here, Captain Barber's views of
British seamen making no allowance for such a hasty exchange of ships,
but as it appeared that Flower was at the time still suffering from
the effects of the fever which had seized him at Riga, he waived the
objection, and listened in silence to the end of the story.

"Fancy what he must have suffered," said Mrs-Barber, shivering; "and
then to turn up safe and sound a twelvemonth afterwards. He ought
to-make a book of it."

"It's all in a sailorman's dooty," said Captain Barber, shaking his
head. "It's wot 'e expects."

His wife rose, and talking the while proceeded to clear the table. The
old man closed the door after her, and with a glance at his nephew gave
a jerk of the head towards the kitchen.

"Wonderful woman, your aunt," he said, impressively; "but I was one too
many for 'er."

Flower stared.

"How?" he enquired, briefly.

"Married 'er," said the old man, chuckling. "You wouldn't believe wot a
lot there was arter her. I got 'er afore she knew where she was a'most.
If I was to tell you all that there was arter'er, you'd hardly believe
me."

"I daresay," said the other.

"There's good news and bad news," continued Captain Barber, shaking his
head and coughing a bit with his pipe. "I've got a bit o' bad for you."

Flower waited.

"'Lizabeth's married," said the old man, slowly; "married that stupid
young Gibson. She'll be sorry enough now, I know."

His nephew looked down. "I've heard about it," he said, with an attempt
at gloom; "old George told me."

The old man, respecting his grief, smoked on for some time in silence,
then he got up and patted him on the shoulder.

"I'm on the look-out for you," he said, kindly; "there's a niece o' your
aunt's. I ain't seen her yet; but your aunt praises of her, so she's all
right. I'll tell your aunt to ask 'er over. Your aunt ses--"

"How many aunts have I got?" demanded Flower, with sudden irritation.

The old man raised his eyebrows and stared at him in offended amazement.

"You're not yourself, Fred," he said, slowly; "your misfortunes 'ave
shook you up. You've got one aunt and one uncle what brought you up and
did the best for you ever since you was so 'igh."

"So you did," said Flower, heartily. "I didn't mean to speak like that,
but I