d something over fifty pounds of his on
deposit, he felt sure they would oblige him and enable him to meet a
sudden call.

"Twenty-five pounds is the sum," he explained; "an' you must be sure
to get it in five-pound notes--_new five-pound notes_. You'll not
forget that?" He closed the envelope and handed it up to Long Oliver,
who buttoned it in his breast-pocket.

"You shall have it, Mr. Geake, by five o'clock this evenin'," said he,
giving the reins a shake on the mare's back; "so 'long!" and he rattled
off.

A mile, and a trifle more, beyond Geake's cottage, he came in sight
of a man clad in blue sailor's cloth, trudging briskly ahead. Long
Oliver's lips shaped themselves as if to whistle; but he made no sound
until he overtook the pedestrian, when he pulled up, looked round in
the man's face, and said--

"Abe Bricknell!"

The sailor came to a sudden halt, and went very white in the face.

"How do you know my name?" he asked, uneasily.

"'Recognised 'ee back in Troy, an' borrowed this here trap to drive
after 'ee. Get up alongside. I've summat to say to 'ee."

Bricknell climbed up without a word, and they drove along together.

"Where was you goin'?" Long Oliver asked, after a bit.

"To Charlestown."

"To look for a ship?"

"Yes."

"Goin' back to America?"

"Yes."

"You've been callin' on William Geake: an' you didn' find Naomi at
home."

"Geake don't want it known."

"That's likely enough. You've got twenty-five pound' o' his in your
pocket."

Abe Bricknell involuntarily put up a hand to his breast.

"Ay, it's there," said Long Oliver, nodding. "It's odd now, but I've
got twenty-five pound in gold in _my_ pocket; an' I want you to swop."

"I don't take ye, Mister--"

"Long Oliver, I'm called in common. Maybe you remembers me?"

"Why, to be sure! I thought I minded your face. But still I don't take
your meanin' azactly."

"I didn' suppose you would. So I'm goin' to tell 'ee. Fourteen year'
back I courted Naomi, an' she used me worse 'n a dog. Twelve year'
back she married you. Nine year' back you went to sea in the _John S.
Hancock_, an' was wrecked off the Leeward Isles an' cast up on a spit
o' rock. I'd been hangin' about New Orleens, just then, at a loose
end, an' bein' in want o' cash, took a scamper in the _Shawanee_, a
dirty tramp of a schooner knockin' in an' out and peddlin' notions
among the West Indy Islanders. As you know we caught sight o' your
signal an' took you off, an'