own
protection, and to place him as an officer on that quarter-deck upon
which he had so distinguished himself. Willy, in obedience to orders
received, stood by the captain, with his hat in his hand.

"What is your name, my boy?" said the captain, passing a scrutinising
glance over his upright and well-proportioned figure.

"Willy, sir."

"And what's your other name?"

"King's Own, sir."

This part of the boy's history was now explained by the
second-lieutenant, who was in command, in consequence of the
first-lieutenant being wounded.

"He must have a name," replied the captain. "William King's Own will
not do. Is he on the books?"

"No, sir, he is not; shall I put him down as William Jones, or William
Smith?"

"No, no, those are too common. The boy has neither father, mother, nor
name, that we know of: as we may, therefore, have a choice of the latter
for him, let it be a good one. I have known a good name make a man's
fortune with a novel reading girl. There is a romance in the boy's
history; let him have a name somewhat romantic also."

"Ay, ay, sir," replied the lieutenant--"here, marine, tell my boy to
bring up one of the volumes of the novel in my cabin."

The book made its appearance on the quarter-deck. "Perhaps, sir, we may
find one here," said the lieutenant, presenting the book to the captain.

The captain smiled as he took the book. "Let us see," said he, turning
over the leaves--"`Delamere!' that's too puppyish. `Fortescue!' don't
like that. `Seymour!' Yes, that will do. It's not too fine, yet
aristocratic and pretty. Desire Mr Hinchen, the clerk, to enter him on
the books as Mr William Seymour, midshipman. And now, youngster, I
will pay for your outfit, and first year's mess: after which I hope your
pay and prize-money will be sufficient to enable you to support
yourself. Be that as it may, as long as you do credit to my patronage,
I shall not forget you."

Willy, with his straw hat in one hand, and a supererogatory touch of his
curly hair with the other, made a scrape with his left leg, after the
manner and custom of seafaring people--in short, he made the best bow
that he could, observing the receipt that had been given him by his
departed friend Adams. D'Egville might have turned up his nose at it;
but Captain M--- was perfectly satisfied; for, if not an elegant, it
certainly was a grateful bow.

Our young officer was not sent down to mess in the berth of the
midshipme