ie returned to his former place on the poop,
and contented himself for the moment with rating the helmsman for
letting the ship yaw on a big wave catching her athwart the bows and
making her fall off; while the first mate and Tim Rooney continued their
good Samaritan work in gently plying the poor creature, who had just
been rescued from death's door, with spoonful after spoonful of the
tepid soup. Presently a little colour came into his face and he was
able to speak, recovering his consciousness completely as soon as the
nourishment affected his system and gave him strength.

In a little time, he also was able to raise himself up and stand without
assistance; and, then, Mr Mackay asked him who he was and why he came
on board our ship without leave or license.

He said that he was a country bricklayer, Joe Fergusson by name; and
that, not being able to get work in London, whither he had tramped all
the way from Lancashire, he had determined to go to Australia, hearing
there was a great demand for labour out there. By dint of inquiries he
had at length managed to reach the docks, hiding himself away in the
forepeak of the Silver Queen, she being the first ship he was able to
get on board unperceived, and the hatchway being conveniently open as if
on purpose for his accommodation.

"But, we're not going to Australia," observed Mr Mackay, who had only
contrived to get all this from the enterprising bricklayer by the aid of
a series of questions and a severe cross-examination. "This ship is
bound for China."

"It don't matter, measter," replied Mr Joe Fergusson with the most
charming nonchalance. "Australy or Chiney's all the same to Oi, so long
as un can git wa-ark to dew. Aught's better nor clemming in Lonnon!"

"You've got no right aboard here, though," said Mr Mackay, who could
not help smiling at the easy way in which the whilom dying man now took
things. "Who's going to pay your passage-money? The captain's in a
fine state, I can tell you, about it, and I don't know what he won't do
to you. He might order you to be pitched overboard into the sea,
perhaps."

The other scratched his head reflectively, just as Tim Rooney did when
in a quandary, looking round at the men behind Mr Mackay, who were
grinning at his blank dismay and the perturbed and puzzled expression on
his raw yokel face.

"Oi be willin' to wa-ark, measter," he answered at length, thinking that
if they were all grinning, they were not likel