t quiet and
pretended to be asleep. Soon afterwards I saw Mark Riddle standing by
my side.

"Tom told me you're hungry, boy," he said; "so I managed to get
something for you from the pantry. I hope it won't be discovered, or
the third mate will be giving me a rope's-ending."

He had brought me a captain's biscuit and a slice of ham, with a tin mug
of water.

"I'll bring you a cup of hot coffee," he said, handing me the food.

Hungry as I was I could not help exclaiming, "What, don't you know me,
Mark?"

He looked at me very hard, still not remembering me.

"No, I don't think I ever saw you before," he answered; "but how do you
happen to know my name?"

"I didn't think I was so changed," I said. "I'm Dick Cheveley."

"Dick Cheveley!" he cried out, looking at me still harder; "Dick
Cheveley on board this ship! And yet it must be; and are you really
Dick Cheveley?"

"I don't believe I'm anybody else, though I have sometimes fancied I
must be."

"Yes, yes, I see you're Master Cheveley," cried Mark, "though I can't
say I feel much happier to see you for your own sake, though I'm right
glad for mine to have you with me," taking my hand and grasping it.
"Oh, Master Cheveley, what did bring you aboard?"

I briefly told him while I was discussing the food he brought me.

"It's a bad business for you, Master Dick," he said; "but the only thing
now to be done is to make the best of it. They're a precious bad lot,
and the captain and officers are no better. I've made up my mind to run
as soon as I can, and I'd advise you to do the same."

"That I certainly will when I have somewhere to run to, but at present
it seems we should have to run overboard," I answered.

"We must wait until we get into harbour. We shall have to touch at a
good many places, and if we keep our wits about us we shall manage it
one way or another."

"We'll talk about that by-and-by, but tell me how you happened to be
here. I heard that you had been sent on board a man-of-war," I said.

"So I was, and I wish I had remained aboard her, too; but as I had been
sent against my will, I cut and run on the first chance I got. She was
the `Beagle' sloop of war. We were ordered to cruise on the Irish
coast. We were not far off the town of Belfast, when a boat's crew to
which I belonged pulled ashore under charge of a mid-shipmite. While he
went into a house to deliver a message, I ran off as fast as my legs
could carry me. I at last rea