g the progress of the above-recorded conversation, the
crew, having completed the mooring of the ship, proceeded to furl the
sails which had been merely hauled down or clewed up as the craft
approached the wharf; and when this job had been performed to the
satisfaction of a tall, strapping young fellow who stood upon the poop
supervising operations, the mariners laid down from aloft and, the
business of the ship being over for the day, were dismissed from duty.
As every man aboard the _Bonaventure_ happened to call Plymouth "home,"
this meant on their part a general swarming ashore to join the relatives
and friends who patiently awaited them on the wharf; whereupon the
little crowd quickly melted away.

Then, and not until then, the tall, strapping young fellow upon the
poop--familiarly referred to by Captain Burroughs as "Garge," and
henceforth to be known to us as George Saint Leger and the hero of the
moving story which the writer proposes to set forth in the following
pages--descended to the main deck, uttered a word or two of greeting and
caution to the two sturdy ship-keepers who had already come on board to
take care of ship and cargo during the absence of the crew, and with
quick, springy step, strode to the gang-plank, and so to the wharf,
whither the captain, in Mr Marshall's company, had preceded him.

As he strode along the wharf, with that slight suggestion of a roll in
his gait which marks the man whose feet have been long accustomed to the
feel of a heaving deck, he cast a quick, eager, recognising glance at
the varied features of the scene around him, his somewhat striking
countenance lighting up as he noted the familiar details of the long
line of quaint warehouses which bordered the wharf, the coasters which
were moored ahead and astern of the _Bonaventure_, the fishing craft
grounded upon the mud higher up the creek, the well remembered houses of
various friends dotted about here and there, the heights of Mount
Edgcumbe shadowy and mysterious in the deepening twilight, and the
slopes of Mount Wise across the water; and a joyous smile irradiated his
features as his gaze settled upon a small but elegant cottage, of the
kind now known as a bungalow, standing in the midst of a large,
beautifully kept garden, situated upon the very extremity of the Mount
and commanding an uninterrupted view of the Sound. For in that cottage,
from three windows of which beamed welcoming lights, he knew that his
mother, an