ver so
wrongly used. My first attack upon Fred consisted in convicting him of
some such swaggering misuse of a nautical term to the which, as luck
had it, I had given careful study on the fo'c'sle-head during the
previous evening's second dog-watch, when my friends among the crew
were taking their leisure. He bore no malice, I think; in any case,
his self-esteem was a very hardy growth, and little liable to suffer
from any minor check.

We never came to blows, the Australian and myself, which was probably
as well for me, since I make no doubt the lad could have trounced me
soundly, for he was disgustingly wiry and long of limb. That was how I
saw his physical advantages. But, apart from this matter of physical
superiority, he was no match for me. In the subtler qualities of
intrigue I was his master; and he, never probably having observed
himself as a hero of romance, had to yield to my proficiency in the
art of producing a desired impression. It was in his capacity as an
old campaigner, a knowing dog, and a seasoned salt, that he had
carried Nelly Fane's heart by storm, and established himself an easy
first in her regard. And seeing this it was, I believe, which first
weakened my devotion to the fair Miss Armstrong, by turning my
attention to Nelly Fane.

I did not really deserve to win Nelly, my suit at first being based
upon foundations so unworthy. But the pursuit of her stirred me
deeply; and in the end--say, in a couple of days--I was her very
humble and devoted slave. She really was an attractive child, I fancy,
in her wilful, imperious way. And, Cupid, how I did adore her by the
time I had driven Master Fred from the field! Even my father suffered
a temporary eclipse in my regard during the first white-hot fervour of
my devotion to Nelly. I lied for her, in word and deed; I stole for
her--from the cabin pantry--and I am sure I risked life and limb for
her a dozen times, in my furious emulation of any achievement of
Fred's, in my instant adoption of any suggestion of Nelly's, however
mischievous. And how many of us could truthfully say as much of their
enthusiasm in any mature love affair? How many grown men would
deliberately risk life to win the passing approval of a mistress?

For example, I recall two typical episodes. Neither had been
remarkable, perhaps, for a boy devoid of fear or imagination; but I
was one shrewdly influenced by both qualities. There was a roomy cabin
under the _Ariadne's_ starboard c