According to Captain Tortle\'s instructions, about six o\'clock on Monday morning the Stinger\'s warps were cast off, and she slowly left the wharf at Portsmouth, and steamed out of the harbour upon her way to Woolwich.

Early as was the hour, a number of people witnessed her departure; a few of the more persevering ones taking a waterman\'s boat and following in her wake across the harbour; as if imagining some unlucky sailor might fall overboard and be picked up by them, when they would have an opportunity of selling him a suit of clothes.

Those gentry were loud in their denunciation of the Admiralty\'s decision, considering that as the Stinger fitted out at Woolwich, and their brothers had the glorious opportunity of swindling the crew upon that occasion, it would only be common justice for her to pay off at Portsmouth; and they looked at the retreating ship, and clawed their beards with rage, their feelings, no doubt, very much resembling those of an ardent angler, who, after having played with a fine trout for some time, sees his anticipated victim quietly wag its tail, and make the best of its way into deep water.

"Now, vot ish de use of us going to de expensh ov dish poat?" grumbled an unhappy-visaged young fellow, who sported a dog\'s-eared-looking suit of clothes, and smelt villainously of bad tobacco. "Vot ish de use of all dish foolishness?"

"Ma friend!" exclaimed a venerable old man, who was holding on to the seat, and apparently saying his "prayers at sea in a time of danger,"—"Ma friend, dish is a put op schob of Peter\'s, who sent us out here vile he starts for Voolvich—ve pay and he gets de penefit—so I votes ve leave him to settle vith de vaterman."

Upon hearing this observation the watermen ceased rowing, and demanded their fare; whereupon the passengers reluctantly drew forth their purses, and, under threat of "being chucked overboard if they did not pony up at once," after much squabbling among themselves, made up the sum required by the boatmen, who then leisurely proceeded to pull towards the landing-place.

In due time the Stinger reached Woolwich, where she was immediately taken into dock. The ship being what is termed "paid off all standing," beyond returning the running rigging into store, her crew had very little to do, and by noon on the day of arrival were cleaned and ready for inspection.

Cravan wad all fuss and worry,—nothing went right,—and in his anxiety that the men should present a particularly smart appearance had mustered and drilled them into a bad temper. The sailors knew there was no necessity for his absurd orders, and did not show much alacrity in obeying him.

About one o\'clock a midshipman, who had been stationed in front of the superintendent\'s office, rushed down to the ship and announced that the expected visitors were coming, which news was immediately reported to the commander, who went on deck and proceeded to the gangway, where he awaited the arrival of the commodore and his staff.

As the party neared the ship, the crew, who were mustered for inspection, noticed their old commander Woodward was one of the number, and had they dared would[Pg 225] have received him with a ringing cheer; as it was, they had to content themselves with smiling at him whenever they could catch his eye.

Mr. Thompson was in attendance at the gangway, and in his delight at beholding his favourite captain executed such an extraordinary "pipe," that Woodward could not avoid smiling; thus encouraged, Jerry redoubled his efforts, and finished off with a most artistic flourish.

After the various officers had been introduced to the commodore, and the ship had been officially inspected, the mustering of the crew commenced, Clare being one of the first men to answer to his name and pass in review before the venerable official.

Tom had replaced his cap and was again mingling with the men when Captain Woodward spoke to the commodore, and Clare was recalled and thus addressed by him:—

"Thomas Clare, captain\'s coxswain, I am directed by the Lords Commissioners of the Admiralty to express to you their lordships\' appreciation of your gallant conduct upon the occasion when H.M.S. Stinger was threatened with destruction by fire-junks, and to hand you a gratuity of ten pounds. Your bravery has been especially brought before their notice by your late commander, Captain Woodward, and it is to his kindness you owe their recognition of your good services."

Upon hearing this speech the crew gave a hearty cheer, which was allowed to pass unnoticed by the worthy commodore.

Tom received the money, and respectfully thanked the giver; but the gathering of officers recalled his court-martial too forcibly to his memory, and although he knew he ought to feel pleased, the affair rather depressed him than otherwise.

Before the commodore left the ship Captain Woodward spoke to Mr. Thompson, but finding Jerry did not intend remaining in the service, asked him what he could do to serve him in any other way.

"Ask the commodore to give me leave to go home with Clare, sir; he wants looking after," begged the good-natured fellow.

Captain Woodward promised to speak for him; and although, usually, warrant-officers are not allowed to leave the ship until their stores are returned and examined, so powerful was Woodward\'s intercession, that the next day, before the men were paid off, Mr. Thompson received the required permission, with orders to return at the expiration of four days.

Inspection being over, the commodore took his departure, Captain Woodward remaining on board the ship.

After partaking of Captain Tortle\'s hospitality, Woodward went on the quarter-deck, and requested Cravan to send for Clare, and several other men. Obedient to the summons, the delighted sailors at once hurried aft, and each received a present from the generous captain. When Clare presented himself, Woodward held out his hand and kindly asked him if he had heard from his wife, and whether he had got over his old complaint.

Tom looked at his friend, and replied in a most animated manner, that he was all right, and hoped to see his wife the next day.

"There\'s a slight token of my esteem for you, Clare," said Woodward handing him a package containing a handsome silver watch and chain. "I beg you will accept this as a proof of my appreciation of your noble act. Is there anything I can do for you besides?"

"No, th—thank you, sir,—you\'re too good; I don\'t deserve this. I thank you very much indeed. My wife will be so proud of this. It makes me feel a man agin. I can hold up my head arter this."

[Pg 226]

Cravan, who stood near, sneered at the proceeding as openly as he dared; but the malicious look was lost on Clare, who opened the parcel, and found the following engraved upon the back of the watch:

    To
    Thomas Clare,
    Captain\'s Coxswain.
    For Bravery.

    He having at the risk of his life, single-handed, saved H.M.S. Stinger from
    destruction by fire-junks in the Canton River, on the —— of —— 18—,

    Presented to him as a mark of esteem,
    by
    Captain Paul Woodward, R.N.

Captain Woodward further informed the happy fellow, that if at any time he wanted a friend, and would let him know, he would be delighted to do anything for him.

When Clare had left the captain\'s presence, the latter proceeded to the gangway for the purpose of leaving the ship, when his attention was attracted by a deputation of petty-officers, headed by the "re-constructed" Jemmy Spry, who after many salaams, addressed his old commander as follows:—

"Please, Captain Woodward, sir, would ye be so kind as to pardon our boldness—but—beg your pardon, sir, but the men forward, sir—wants to see—ye sir. We makes so bold as to ax if you will be so kind as to allow—us all to see you, sir."

Having consulted with Tortle, who was so "jolly" that he would have agreed to anything. Woodward returned to the quarter-deck, and the crew "laid aft" and heard him speak. After telling the old hands how glad he was to welcome them home, and having shaken hands with every one of them, he left the Stinger, amidst the cheers of the grateful fellows, who kept up their hurrahs until he was out of sight and hearing.

When the last "hip! hip!" had died away, the first lieutenant ordered them to be "piped down," and added, in an undertone, "You yahoos, I\'d like to cheer some of you with the cat."

Cravan felt annoyed that the man who had once resented an insult from him, should be thus publicly complimented upon the very spot where the outrage occurred.

The next morning the Stingers were paid off, and in a few hours were on their way to their respective homes. When Clare left the ship with his friend many of the men went to the gangway to bid him good-bye, three cheers being given for Thompson, and hearty wishes expressed on all sides for his future prosperity.

"Good-bye, Mr. Thompson; good-bye, Jerry; good-bye, old ship."

It will be seen from this that the crew were very different men from those who manned the Stinger when she first fitted out. Captain Woodward had attracted some of the best sailors in the service to the ship, and, taking them as a body, they were as fine a crew as ever trod a deck.

Having bidden farewell to their old shipmates, Thompson and Clare walked out of the dockyard, and entering a cab were conveyed to the railway station.

[Pg 227]

As they left the dock gate Clare exclaimed, "Good-bye, prison; good-bye slavery. Now for a man\'s life. Freedom and Polly."

"By-the-by, have you heard from her since you have been here?" demanded Thompson.

Clare replied that he had not, but thought it probable that she had directed her letter to Portsmouth, and that one would arrive for him this evening after he left.

When they got to the station Tom gazed wistfully at the telegraph wires, and observed to his friend, "Do you think it would cost more than five shillings to send her a wire message? I should so much like to let her know that I shall be home to-night."

Jerry said that he didn\'t know what the damage would be, but he\'d soon find out, so they proceeded to the booking-office, and ascertained that they could send quite a long message for that sum.

Clare took a pen, and, after being assured by his friend that what he wrote would be transmitted word for word, proceeded to write as follows:—

    "H.M.S. Stinger. Dear Polly, We paid off this morning. I will be with you, my dear, to-night. Your affectionate husband, Tom Clare."

Tom handed this to Jerry, who paid the sum demanded, and returned the receipt to his friend.

"Do you think jist them words will go—Dear Polly? Don\'t you think they will alter it?"

"Lord bless your foolish old head! why, if you wrote Chinee, them ere clerks would send it; they\'re awful clever. Why, they sends French and German. Of course they put dear!"

When they arrived at the London Bridge Station they transferred their baggage, and Thompson sought out the guard, who proved to be an old school-mate. To him Jerry delivered the parrot and monkey, with directions to leave them at the Sandwich station, where Maxted the carrier would take charge of and convey them to his mother; and in order that the animals might not be neglected, he affixed the following notice to their cages:—

"Live animals, with care. Give them a drink if they wants it, but don\'t blow them out with wittles."

The first part of their journey by the South Eastern Railway was a most pleasant one, as they made a number of acquaintances.

Sometimes Jerry would nurse a fractious baby for a weary-looking mother, or take charge of an old woman while her husband fetched in the baggage. Then a pretty face attracted his attention, and he would sit and watch it until the girl turned away her head, or he was called to order by Tom.

As they neared their journey\'s end, Clare became very much depressed, frequently asking the time, and fidgetting so, that Thompson had great difficulty in getting him to reply to his questions; however, at last he roused himself, and recognizing the places they were passing, became much more communicative.

"That\'s Sandwich!" he observed, pointing out a Dutch-looking town, round which the railroad wound, as if fearing if it ran too close to the old place that it would wake up the Rip Van Winkle-like inhabitants.

"Oh, that\'s Sandwich, is it? That\'s the original and only genuine ham, mustard,[Pg 228] and bread-and-butter Sandwich, is it? Well, let us get out and have a glass of ale, shall we, Tom?"

"You won\'t find no ale nearer than the Three Coltses," observed a railway labourer, who had just entered the carriage. "There\'s no beer, no nothing in that place, \'cept dead and buried people. The whole town is gone to sleep, and nothing won\'t wake it but a \'lection."

Hearing this remark the passengers laughed, and the speaker finding Clare and his friend were sailors, generously proffered his tin bottle of beer, which was duly accepted by them.

"So you\'re a Kingsdown man, are you?" said Tom, having entered into conversation with the navvy. "My wife lives at Kingsdown; her name is Clare. I\'m Tom Clare. Perhaps you\'ve heard of me?"

It so happened that, although the railway navvy looked a rough sort of a man, he was really very intelligent; and having heard of Tom, saw at a glance how matters stood, and replied, "Oh, yes, I have heard of you. I\'m glad to see you back. You\'ve got a fine little boy."

"When did you see Polly—my wife—last?" excitedly demanded the sailor.

"Here\'s Deal!" shouted the man, who thereupon searched under the seat for his tools, and stopped all further inquiry on Tom\'s part.

"De-al! D\'l! D\'l!" bawled the porters, and the train stopped with a jerk, which nearly threw the occupants of the carriage off their feet.

In the confusion of arrival the navvy slipped away, and Clare was unable to get any more information.

Having engaged a fly, the friends proceeded to Kingsdown, Jerry evidently very much puzzled at the navvy\'s manner, yet unwilling to alarm Tom, who seemed to be utterly unconscious of anything but the approaching meeting with Polly.

When they arrived at the cottage it was twilight, and lights were gleaming from the front windows. Thompson paid the driver, and, taking the baggage, walked up the pathway after his friend, who had run ahead, and was loudly knocking at the door.

"Why, they don\'t seem to know we are here," gasped Clare.

At this instant the door was opened, and Tom saw his wife\'s father, who, with troubled face, exclaimed, "Glad to see you, poor fellow! Here, little Tom, come, see your daddy."

Clare walked into the room, and seeing his wife\'s mother, who was seated on a chair by the fire, advanced to her, and taking her hand, quietly said, "Where\'s my dear Polly?"

The poor creature, evidently too much overcome to speak, with trembling lips pointed to her husband, who was watching her with a pained expression of countenance.

"Wh—why—what does this mean? Where is my wife. Mother, what makes you look so? Surely she is—"

"Tom," cried the old man, "it ain\'t no good to deceive you now. Polly is dead. She died the sixteenth of August three year ago, and—God forgive us!—we have let you be in the dark all this time, fearin\' it would be too much for you."

Hearing this, Clare staggered to a chair, and after passing his hand across his brow, exclaimed, "My—Polly—dead?"

"Yes, poor soul; she giv birth to this one in sorrow and anxiety, and never rallied. Tom, go to your father."

The little child did as he was bidden, though he seemed almost afraid of the scared[Pg 229] face; but when he felt his father\'s fervent kiss all his fears vanished, and the boy hugged him, and called him "dear daddy," until Thompson, who was a sympathizing spectator of the proceeding, sobbed audibly.

The old woman had covered her face with her apron, and was weeping bitterly, while, in spite of his stoicism, the tears were rapidly coursing each other down her husband\'s wrinkled cheeks.

"Here\'s—her—sun-pictur," continued the old fisherman, taking a little case, containing a portrait of Polly, from the mantel-piece. "That\'s like her, poor soul! she looked—werry thin—afore she died."

Tom took the portrait, and holding it towards the candle, gazed on it with a face expressive of reverence and love.

"So that\'s—all there is left—of my—darling, is it?" he falteringly inquired.

"Yes, poor feller, that\'s all. She\'s gone to her last home."

As the old man uttered these words Clare lifted his little boy off his knee, and having gently kissed him, observed to Thompson, in a quiet, weary manner, "that he must be going." The words were scarcely uttered before the speaker\'s head dropped upon his chest, and he tell heavily forward.

Thompson sprang towards his friend, and, with the assistance of the old man, raised him from the ground. The agony of the woman was most painful. She threw her arms around the inanimate form, and uttered most heartrending cries. "O Tom, dear, dear feller! I\'ve killed you! It\'s me that\'s done this. Oh, wicked woman that I am."

"Come—Fanny—don\'t—take—on—so,—it\'s—no—fault—of—your\'n," observed her husband, sobbing between each word; but the poor creature did not hear his well-meant words of comfort, she having swooned from grief.

After in vain trying to restore Clare to consciousness, Thompson ran for a doctor, and when he returned with one, they found the room filled with neighbours.

"Turn these people out," directed the physician.

In a short time the gossips retired, taking with them the grief-stricken old woman, who, in spite of their endeavours to comfort her, blamed herself as the cause of Clare\'s sudden death.

While Thompson was clearing the apartment the doctor proceeded to examine Clare, who had been placed upon a sofa; and when the kindly sailor had seen the last person out, he hurried to his friend\'s side.

"The poor man is dead," sadly observed the doctor.

"Ain\'t there no chance for him, sir?"

"No, none whatever. Is this the husband of Mary Clare?"

"Yes, your honour."

"Where is the child?"

Thompson searched about the room, and at length found little Tom fast asleep under a table, with his innocent face pillowed upon his dead father\'s jacket.

The gentle-mannered physician touched the child lightly, saying, "Poor baby, he knows nothing of his great loss;" then, having advised the old fisherman to look after his wife, and directed Thompson not to disturb the body until the inquest should be held, took his departure.

After a time the broken-hearted old woman returned, and taking the child in her arms, retired to rest. Thompson remained by the body of his friend all night, and as the clock ticked off the moments, could scarcely credit it was not all a dream.

"Poor old chap!" he murmured, passing his hand across Clare\'s brow. "Poor heart, so you saw her spirit arter all. Well, I can\'t understand it; it\'s beyond me, but[Pg 230] it may have been so. If you can hear me, old shipmate and brave heart, hear me say I\'ll never let your little chap want as long as God gives me health and strength;" and having uttered these words, the kind-hearted sailor sat down beside the couch, and placing his hands to his face, the man who had seen death gather many friends before, wept like a woman.

There lay poor Tom, with the portrait of his loved wife tightly clutched in his hand. True to her in life, and true in death; and the wording of the telegram he had penned that morning, which now lay open upon a table near, seemed prophetic—"I will be with you, my dear, to-night." We may hope he was with her, in a world of which we can have no conception until our eyes are opened by the angel of death.

In the morning little Tom crept into the room, and with awe upon his face asked to "see his dear daddy."

Jerry, unable to refuse the child\'s request, uncovered the calm face, which the little one gazed upon with a sorrowful expression. Taking the poor orphan in his arms Thompson carried him from the room, and leaving the child with a neighbour, walked along the breezy downs to get rid of some of his miserable thoughts.

"What is life?" he mused. "Here to-day and then gone, and nobody knows that so insignificant a creature ever troubled the earth. What have we to live for? Another world? Yes, that must be it. We ain\'t created for nothing; the God who made us has power to do everything. I\'ll try and do better in future, and be more kinder to others, and less selfish. This death of Tom has made me think.............