iend as Mr. Thomson, while the A. B. would
persist in referring, with a most affected utterance, to Dr. Carson.

"Cook!" bawled the skipper one day when they were about a week out.

Dr. Carson, who was peeling potatoes, stepped slowly out of the galley
and went toward him.

"You say 'Sir,' when you're spoken to," said the skipper, fiercely.

The doctor sneered.

"My --- if you sneer at me, I'll knock your head off!" said the other,
with a wicked look.

"When you get back to Melbourne," said the doctor, quietly, "you'll hear
more of this."

"You're a couple of pickpockets aping the gentleman," said the skipper,
and he turned to the mate. "Mr. Mackenzie, what do these two ragamuffins
look like?"

"Pickpockets," said the mate, dutifully.

"It's a very handy thing," said the old man, jeeringly, "to have a doctor
aboard. First time I've carried a surgeon."

Mr. Mackenzie guffawed loudly.

"And a solicitor," said the skipper, gazing darkly at the hapless Harry
Thomson, who was cleaning brasswork. "Handy in case of disputes. He's a
real sea lawyer. _Cook!_"

"Sir?" said the doctor, quietly.

"Go down and tidy my cabin, and see you do it well."

The doctor went below without a word, and worked like a housemaid. When
he came on deck again, his face wore a smile almost of happiness, and his
hand caressed one trousers pocket as though it concealed a hidden weapon.

For the following three or four days the two unfortunates were worked
unceasingly. Mr. Thomson complained bitterly, but the cook wore a
sphinx-like smile and tried to comfort him.

"It won't be for long, Harry," he said, consolingly.

The solicitor sniffed. "I could write tract after tract on temperance,"
he said, bitterly. "I wonder what our poor wives are thinking? I expect
they have put us down as dead."

"Crying their eyes out," said the doctor, wistfully; "but they'll dry
them precious quick when we get back, and ask all sorts of questions.
What are you going to say, Harry?"

"The truth," said the solicitor, virtuously.

"So am I," said his friend; "but mind, we must both tell the same tale,
whatever it is. Halloa! what's the matter?"

"It's the skipper," said the boy, who had just run up; "he wants to see
you at once. He's dying."

He caught hold of the doctor by the sleeve; but Carson, in his most
professional manner, declined to be hurried. He went leisurely down the
companion-ladder, and met with a careless glance the