ave it a final thrust, and the
door fell over with a loud _flap_, which made Jem Wimble sit up, with
his face so swollen and bruised that his eyes were half-closed; and this
and his dirty face gave him an aspect that was more ludicrous than
strange.

"What's the matter?" he said sharply. "Who are you? I--where--was--to
me. Have I been a-dreaming? No: we're pressed!"

"Pressed you are, my lads; and Bosun Jones has sent you up some hot
slops and soft tack. There you are. Find your own tablecloth and
silliver spoons."

He placed a large blue jug before them, in which was some steaming
compound, covered by a large breakfast cup, stuck in the mouth of the
jug, while on a plate was a fair-sized pile of bread and butter.

"There you are, messmates; say your grace and fall to."

"Look here," said Don quickly. "You know we were taken by the
press-gang last night?"

"Do I know? Why, didn't I help?"

"Oh!" ejaculated Don, with a look of revulsion, which he tried to
conceal. "Look here," he said; "if you will take a message for me to my
mother, in Jamaica Street, you shall have a guinea."

"Well, that's handsome, anyhow," said the man, laughing. "What am I to
say to the old lady?"

"That we have been seized by the press-gang, and my uncle is to try and
get us away."

"That all?"

"Yes, that's all. Will you go?"

"Hadn't you better have your breakfuss?"

"Breakfast? No," said Don. "I can't eat."

"Better. Keep you going, my lad."

"Will you take my message?"

"No, I won't."

"You shall have two guineas."

"Where are they?"

"My mother will gladly give them to you."

"Dessay she will."

"And you will go?"

"Do you know what a bosun's mate is, my lad?"

"I? No. I know nothing about the sea."

"You will afore long. Well, I'll tell you; bosun's mate's a gentleman
kep' aboard ship to scratch the crew's backs."

"You are laughing at me," cried Don angrily.

"Not a bit of it, my lad. If I was to do what you want, I should be
tied up to-morrow, and have my back scratched."

"Flogged?"

"That's it."

"For doing a kind act? For saving my poor mother from trouble and
anxiety?"

"For not doing my dooty, my lad. There, a voyage or two won't hurt you.
Why, I was a pressed man, and look at me."

"Main-top ahoy! Are you coming down?" came from below.

"Ay, ay, sir!" shouted the sailor.

"Wasn't that the man who had us shut up here?" cried Don.

"To be sure: Bosun Jones," said the