harpness:

"My name is Smith, my man," cried he, seizing his belongings, "and
you--just carry on with that coiling!"

"And my name, sir, is Adrian Landale, of Pulwick Priory. I would like
a moment's talk with you, if you will spare me the time. The Cochranes
of the Shaws have been friends of our family for generations."

A guffaw burst from a group of Adrian's mates working hard by, at this
recurrence of what had become with them a standing joke; but the
officer, who had turned on his heels, veered round immediately, and
stood eyeing the speaker in profound astonishment.

"Great God, is it possible! Did you say you were a Landale of Pulwick?
How the devil came you here then, and thus?"

"Press-gang," was Adrian's laconic answer.

The lad gave a prolonged whistle, and was lost for a moment in
cogitation.

"If you are really Mr. Landale," he began, adding hastily, as if to
cover an implied admission--"of course I have heard the name: it is
well known in Lancashire--you had better see the skipper. It must have
been some damnable mistake that has caused a man of your standing to
be pressed."

The speaker ended with almost a deferential air and the smile that had
already warmed Adrian's heart. At the door of the Captain's quarters
he said, with the suspicion of a twinkle in his eye:

"A curious error it was you made, I assure you my name is Smith--Jack
Smith, of Liverpool."

"An excusable error," quoth Adrian, smiling back, "for one of your
seals bear unmistakably the arms of Cochrane of the Shaws, doubtless
some heirloom, some inter-marriage."

"No, sir, hang it!" retorted Mr. Jack Smith of Liverpool, his boyish
face flushing again, and as he spoke he disengaged the trinket from
its neighbours, and jerked it pettishly overboard, "I know nothing of
your Shaws or your Cochranes."

And then he rapped loudly at the cabin-door, as if anxious to avoid
further discussion or comment on the subject.

The result of the interview which followed--interview during which
Adrian in a few words overcame the skipper's scepticism, and was
bidden with all the curiosity men feel at sea for any novelty, to
relate, over a bottle of wine, the chain of his adventures--was his
passing from the forecastle to the officers' quarters, as an honoured
guest on board the _St. Nicholas_, during the rest of her cruise.

Thinking back now upon the last few weeks of his sea-going life, Sir
Adrian realised with something of wonder that he had