not liked to say anything, but the last remark made
me feel very uncomfortable. The speaker presently took a letter out of
his pocket, and, reading it, said, "Ah! I see Mr Gull is the man I've
got to go to. Can you show me where Mr Gull, the attorney, lives?" he
asked of Jim; "he'll settle up this matter."

Jim made no answer, for we were getting near the shore, and had to keep
out of the way of two craft coming up the harbour. We soon ran up to
the Hard, when the man, stepping out, offered Jim a sixpence.

"A shilling's the fare, sir," said Jim, keeping back his hand.

"No, no, you young rascal! I know better; but I'll give you another
sixpence if you will show me the way to Mr Gull's."

"You may find it by yourself," answered Jim, indignantly, as he picked
up the sixpence thrown to him by our fare, who walked off.

"Half a loaf is better than no bread, Peter, so it's as well not to lose
the sixpence," said Jim, laughing. "But no gentleman would have offered
less than a shilling. I wonder whether he really is old Tom's nephew?"

CHAPTER SIX.

TURNED OUT OF HOUSE AND HOME.

We had just landed the gaily-dressed individual who had announced
himself the nephew of old Tom Swatridge. Thinking that he might
possibly be the person he said he was, and not knowing what tricks he
might play, I was intending to row home, when a gentleman, with two
young ladies and a boy, who I knew by their dress to be Quakers, came
down, wishing to take a row round the harbour, and afterwards to visit
the Victualling Yard.

After we had pulled off some way, I asked if they would like to go
aboard the _Victory_.

"No, thank thee, young friend, we take no pleasure in visiting scenes,
afloat or on shore, where the blood of our fellow-creatures has been
shed," answered the gentleman.

As he spoke I thought by his look and the tone of his voice that he must
be Mr Silas Gray, who had come to our house when the poor girl mother
took in was dying, but I did not like to ask him. The young people
called him father. At last he began to ask Jim and me questions, and
how, young as we were, we came to have a boat by ourselves.

"I suppose thy father is ill on shore?" he said.

Then I told him how he was lost at Spithead, and mother had died, and
old Tom had been blown up, and I had taken his wherry, seeing there was
no one else to own her; and how Mary and Nancy and I lived on in his
house.

"And art thou and this other lad broth