who had gone to school as soon as the _Lily_ was
paid off; received what he well deserved, his warrant as boatswain of
the corvette he had helped to win. He had shortly to go to sea in a
dashing frigate, and from that he was transferred to a seventy-four, in
which he was engaged in several of England's greatest battles.

Some years passed, when after paying off the _Urania_, as Rayner was
passing along a street in Exeter, he heard a stentorian voice singing a
verse of a sea ditty. The singer, dressed as a seaman, carried on his
head the model of a full-rigged ship, which he rocked to and fro,
keeping time to the tune. He had two wooden legs in the shape of
mopsticks, and was supporting himself with a crutch, while with the hand
at liberty he held out a battered hat to receive the contributions of
his audience. Occasionally, when numbers gathered round to listen to
him, he exchanged his song for a yarn. As Rayner approached he was
saying, "This is the way our government treats our brave seamen. Here
was I fighting nobly for my king and country, when a Frenchman's shot
spoilt both my legs, and I was left to stump off as best I could on
these here timber toes without a shiner in my pocket, robbed of all my
hard-earned prize-money. But you good people will, I know, be kind to
poor Jack, and fill this here hat of his with coppers to give him a
crust of bread and a sup to comfort his old heart.

"`Come all ye jolly sailors bold,
Whose hearts are cast in honour's mould,
While England's glory I unfold,
Huzza to the _Arethusa_!'"

Suddenly he recognised Captain Rayner, who, from being dressed in plain
clothes, he had not at first observed. He started, and then began, with
an impudent leer, "Now, mates, I'll spin you another yarn about an
English captain who now holds his head mighty high, and would not
condescend to speak to poor Jack if he was to meet him. We was
powder-monkeys together, that captain and I. But luck is everything.
He went up, and I went down. That's the way at sea. If all men had
their deserts I should be where he is, in command of a fine frigate, in
a fair way of becoming an admiral. But it's no use complaining, and so
I'll sing on--

"`The famed _Belle Poule_ straight ahead did lie,
The _Arethusa_ seemed to fly,
Not a brace, or a tack, or a sheet did we slack
On board of the _Arethusa_.'"

"No, no, mate, you was not aboard the _Arethusa_!" cried Jack Peek, who
had followe