Captain Woodward's kindness towards him and the good news he received from his wife, effected a wonderful alteration in Clare's appearance, and the little doctor congratulated him on his returning health.

"I'm better, thankee, sir—wonderfully better—but at times my heart beats so that I can hardly breathe. I think it's better, though, since I've been coxswain."

"You see how foolish you were to worry yourself about what has proved to be an idle fear, as all your surmises have turned out to be incorrect."

"I'm well enough now, doctor. Don't you think so?"

"Yes, you are well; but you must take care of yourself, and not get excited."

"I mean, don't you think I'm in my senses?"

"Certainly I do, Clare."

"Well, doctor, I saw my wife's spirit on the 16th of last August—this month is July. I've heard from her, and know she is alive as far as I can tell at this moment. I consider the 16th of August to be her day, and if she visits me agin, I'm sure she will die before I see her."

"I shall have to put you upon the sick list if you talk like that. Why, you are as superstitious as ever."

Tom smiled sadly, but assured the doctor that it was not superstition, but faith on his part, adding, "in my country a fetch sometimes comes every year for fifty years, but the person it represents always dies on that day."

The doctor looked at his patient for a few moments, and told him that he would engage to cure the worst cases of fetch that Tom might bring to him; and as his own was a pretty decided one, he should put him under treatment for it at once, although he was not to be considered upon the sick list.

The doctor's plan was effectual, for in a short time the seaman renounced his delusion, and became quite convinced that it had proceeded from disordered digestion: and before they left for Japan he penned the following letter to his wife, from which it will be seen that his orthography had improved under Lieutenant Russell's instructions.

"H. M. S. Stinger,
"Hong-Kong, 23 July, ——

"My Dear Wife,

"Your two last letters were written by a strange hand, please tell me who it is. I was greatly delighted to hear from you, and to know you are well and hearty, and the baby well—he must cheer you a good deal. I have had all manner of fullish thoughts about you, thinking you was dead, but the doctor, who is a perfect samaryatan, has given me a lot of stuff, which has taken away all my visions. Now, I have a wish. I want you to write me upon getting this, and say that on the 16th of August you were well and hearty, and it will give me great joy, as I had a foolish idea on that point. I have also a wish to know how you look. Can't you send me a sun picture? I'd give anything for a sun picture of you. Lieutenant Russell takes them, and has promised me one for you. I am very comfortable in this ship, the captain is a perfect gentleman. If all was like him the service would be perfect heaven for sailors. I was truly sorry to hear of the death of your old missis. I hope she is now with him in heaven who was so good on earth. Almost his last words was 'Florence,' and he died a thinking of her. Our first lieutenant is like poor Lieutenant Ford in many things, but he is more grander in his words; he is wonderful clever, and it's a pleasure to hear him lecture. He teaches us to read and write, and is more like a father than anything else. He is the best-dispositioned officer I ever saw, and would make a first-class captain. Our captain is noble in everything, A 1, and as brave as a lion. I am his coxswain now for good. In my last letter I told you all about Jerry Thompson; he is now a petty officer, and as good a fellow as ever, although he is a little touched in his head about a Chinee girl, named Hay-toy, that was killed for his sake. I think he was very fond of her. He is a reg'lar chum of mine, and we messes together. Mr. Cravan has left the ship promoted; he was nobody after our old tyrant and that wretch Crushe had left, as he daren't show his feelings afore our present captain; he went off without a sign of a cheer from any of us, and nobody missed him. We are going to Jaypan, and I hope afterwards, when we have took Canton, to send you word we are coming home. I think with what we have now, and my prize money and pay, we shall be able to live very comfortable. When you goes into Deal call at Mr. Masposlis, and say his son is in our ship, and is a very nice young man; he is our captain's servant, and we now and then has a chat about his father. I must now conclude, with love to father and mother, and a hundred kisses for dear little Tom, and my undying love for you, dear Polly.

"I am your affectionate husband,

"Thomas Clare."

"Address Hong-Kong or elsewhere, as usual."

Before the memorable day upon which he was carried off by the Tartars Thompson had given a parcel, containing a crape shawl and several articles of loot, into the boatswain's care, with instructions to deliver the same to Mary Ann if any accident occurred to him; so when Jerry's clothes and other effects were sold before the mast, the things were kept back by the boatswain. Upon Thompson falling out with Mr. Shever the latter sent him the parcel, the existence of which was forgotten by the sailor; and as Jerry, like most of his class, never kept anything long, he made up his mind to send it home to Mrs. Clare, by the first man invalided.

"She'll find it a helligant thing for weddings or the circus," he observed to his friend.

"She don't go to none, leastways, she never says anything about it; besides, keep it yourself, or send it to Mary Ann."

"What for? I'm going to try if Mary Ann has forgotten me, like you all did." (Jerry always felt a little tender upon that point). "You're my chum. Missis C. is a lady I think a deal about. Young Tom is my nevvy, although a unlawful one, and puttin' that altogether, I'm determined to send her the shawl, or to chuck it overheard."

The next man invalided proved to be Private Silas Bowler, Royal Marine Light Infantry, who, after receiving a liberal present, took charge of the shawl; and having successfully evaded the lynx-eyed custom-house officials, upon his arrival at Portsmouth proceeded to deliver it, not according to his agreement, but to his own wife, who wore it at Utah chapel, and quoted the gift to her brothers and sisters in faith, as a proof of good Silas's generosity. The worthy marine ultimately emigrated to Salt Lake, where he became a deacon, and, for aught we know to the contrary, one of Brigham Young's most efficient assistants. It is probable that by this time the crape shawl has changed owners several times.

The Stinger proceeded towards Japan, and in due time came to anchor in the harbour of Chickodadi, where the hospitable inhabitants received them with open arms, the officers and men taking a cruise on shore, finding entertainment in all the free exhibitions then running in the place, including the public bath-rooms, where young and old, bachelors and spinsters, men and women, maids, wives, children and widows, together disported themselves in a most primitive manner, much to the astonishment of the gaping blue-jackets, who swarmed round those institutions and made the most amusing remarks.

"Well, I am blowed!" observed an old quarter-master. "If these here Jappanknees ain't a rum set of fellers. Them ere bath houses beats me; and my opinion is, they are either as hinnocent as babbies or a jolly deal ahead of us in cheek. Vy, I ain't been as near blushin' as I was to-day since I was a little kid."

No doubt the old fellow's delicate nerves were immensely shocked by the custom of the country, he being one of those weather-beaten patriarchs whom no one but a very-far-in-landsman would imagine possessed of any greater sensibility than a milestone.

After having spent a very pleasant tune in Chickodadi, the Stinger proceeded to Hiko-saki, where they fell in with H.M.S. Blowfly, the commander of which being Woodward's senior, exercised them at all the evolutions known in the service, from shifting topsails to changing cooks of messes by signal, until Woodward began to wish his worthy senior elsewhere. However, the cholera breaking out in the ships, they were compelled to put to sea, where they lost one pest, but had a terrible struggle against another.

It was a sore trial for them; and men who had laughed at and risked death in a hundred forms were taken ill, and carried off before their shipmates knew they were down. Some, who had for many years been in the habit of drinking any ardent spirit which came within their reach, now, through fear of the terrible disease, suddenly renounced liquor, and swore, if spared, to lead sober lives in future, but they were cut off as quickly as the drunkards. For seventeen days the ship was like a hospital, and ere the epidemic had run its course the bodies of thirty-five men and boys, including the assistant surgeon and third engineer, were consigned to the deep. There was no escape, and many men, who might have recovered on shore, upon seeing their shipmates die around them gave up all hope for themselves, and succumbed to the disease through fear.

The little doctor did wonders, working day and night, until he was completely knocked up; then Captain Woodward took his place to the best of his ability, and set a noble example to all in the ship. Although he keenly felt the loss of every one of his officers and crew, he preserved a calm demeanour; and had not his every action shown how fully he understood and sympathized with the sufferers, he might have been regarded as indifferent to the awful ravages that death was making around him. Tom Clare and Thompson were his right-hand men, and bravely they performed their work, taking watch and watch in the sick bay, and attending the sick and dying with unremitting zeal. Clare, calm and collected, moved about like a good spirit, and many a poor fellow gave his last charge to him, knowing that, if Tom survived, his wishes would be respected,—while Thompson, chaffing the would-be sick out of their whims, was indefatigable in his attentions to those who were ill, and was the life and soul of the convalescents; for, in spite of their sad condition, Jerry's spirits rose while others' sank, and he would often, by some droll remark, be of more service in helping their recovery than all the medical comforts freely issued to them.

It must not be imagined that during such a time there is no joking and fun on board, as after the first shock those who are well, or recovering, often indulge in a display of merriment that to an observer might savour of levity, but which is merely assumed to prevent their dwelling upon the melancholy scenes taking place around them. Sailors are very mercurial fellows, and Jack has often told yarns and sung songs in the fore part of the ship while his messmates were writhing in their last agony in the sick bay abaft.

Thompson felt the loss of his shipmates very keenly; and, as he afterwards expressed it, never had harder work than when he pretended to be merry upon that occasion, and, no doubt, he did much towards keeping many of the men who were well from thinking of their awful position.

Having run northward until the disease began to decrease, Captain Woodward determined to visit one of the uninhabited islands off the coast of Tartary, and one evening came to anchor in a little bay where he determined to land his men and put them under canvas, knowing he could do so there with safety.

Some misunderstanding having occurred upon letting go the anchor, the commander sent forward to inform the boatswain that he wished to speak to him when the yards were squared, but the quartermaster who bore the message returned with the information that the boatswain had just been seized, and was gone down below. As soon as circumstances permitted, Woodward left the deck and proceeded to the warrant-officer's cabin, where he found Mr. Shever coiled up and evidently suffering great agony. Having administered the usual remedy, he left him in charge of Thompson and Clare, who were chafing his limbs with warm turpentine, that being one of the methods then prescribed in such cases. Shever endured great torture until midnight, when, just as the sentry struck eight bells, he suddenly started up, seized his beloved pipe, which he insisted should not be taken from his neck, placed it to his lips, blew a loud blast, and, shrieking, "Hands, witness punishment," writhed in pain for a few moments, than became rigid and expired.

Thompson brushed away a tear as he gazed upon the distorted countenance of his former friend, then covered the still form with a sheet, observing as he did so, "Ah, poor Mr. Shever, you'd a good heart afore that devil Crushe got hold of you," when he became aware that Clare was in the cabin; and turning round, saw the latter with his face pale and scared, moving his lips, as if praying for the man who had during life been his enemy; noticing which Jerry exclaimed, "Tom, you are a good feller to pray for him wot swore agin you and injured you. I couldn't do it."

Clare looked at his friend for a moment, then replied in a voice broken with emotion, "I'm only a mortal man, Jerry, and him wot is under that has been my enemy; but I can't stand by his body and say I'm glad to see him a-lying there. I forgive him all he has done to me, and hope he will be forgiven by Him who knows more about his heart than we does. Poor woman! I heartily pity his wife."

"So do I, Tom. I always have done that. But what makes you so white and haggard, Tom?"

Clare sunk into a chair, and covering his face with his hands, sobbed like a child.

"Tom, Tom, don't give way. You, of all others, who is braver than any of us, you ain't afraid now, are you?"

Clare took his hands away, and mastering his emotion, assisted his friend to prepare the body for interment; but before the few offices were performed he was obliged to retire, evidently totally unmanned from some cause which he could not sufficiently master his feelings to explain. However, after a time he became more calm, when he sought for Thompson and told him the reason of his agitation.

"Jerry, don't laugh at me, or think lightly of what I tell you."

"Did ever I laugh at a real sorrer in all my born days? Did ever you see me make fun of trouble in others, Tom?"

Clare shook his head.

"Then, old mate, tell me your trouble, and if it's in my power I'll help you through with my best advice."

"I've just seen poor Polly. She's dead, Jerry; she ain't alive. It's the 16th of August, and she's been dead a year. O merciful God, I think I shall go mad!"

"Come, my poor old chap, you're upset with this sad work, you mustn't worrit. Why, gracious goodness, ain't she a-writ to you a dozen times, a-tellin' you about the babby, little Tom? and ain't I sent her a crape shawl by that feller Bowler? and ain't we soon a-goin home to see her, hey, old chap?"

"Jerry, there she is again," said the unfortunate fellow, pointing to the doorway. "There she is. I'm coming Polly! I'm——"

Thompson seized his friend and secured him from jumping overboard, as he might probably have done, and for three days watched by his bedside, Clare being down with a raging fever; but he got through, and was out of danger before the crew re-embarked.

Jerry did not go on shore with the others, but devoted himself entirely to his friend and it was no doubt partly owing to his untiring care that Clare recovered. He, however, never reverted to the hallucination, which appeared to have passed away, although he often spoke to his nurse about his wife and child.

Mr. Shever was, with others, buried upon the lonely island; and before the Stinger left, the ship's painter prepared a tablet bearing the following inscription, which was nailed against a tree growing near the graves.

Near here lies the body of
Mr. Henry Shever,
Late Boatswain in H.M. Navy,
Aged 38 years,
who died of cholera off this island on
16th August, 185—,
while serving on board
H.M.S. Stinger,
24 guns.
Commander, Paul Woodward, R.N.
Three fathoms to the left of his grave lie the
bodies of the following, late crew of H. M. S. Stinger.
James Shaw, A. B., aged 32 years.
Thomas Simpson, A. B., aged 27 years,
Henry Rowe, A. B., aged 29 years.
Samuel Tyron, O. S., aged 20 years.
James Dove, Boy of 1st Class, aged 17 years.
All these seamen died of the fatal effects of cholera
while camped on shore near the beach below, much
regretted by their surviving shipmates, who
erected this monument
WM. BROWN, PAINTER.

When they had been under canvas a few weeks the cholera disappeared, and Captain Woodward quitted the island, and ran down to Shanghae, where he received orders to proceed at once to Hong-Kong, which he reached after a quick passage, and there found, thanks to his immense popularity, no difficulty in filling up the vacancies in his crew.

Clare, who had by this time recovered, was offered the post of boatswain, but declined, saying he could not fill the rate. The commander then strongly recommended Thompson for the appointment, whereupon the admiral directed him to be made acting warrant-officer until he was confirmed by the admiralty, and within a month after Mr. Shever's death Jerry, who was thoroughly competent, piped, and bellowed orders as naturally as though he had always owned the silver call and chain.

Mrs. Shever was duly notified of her husband's decease, and received the balance of his pay, and a pension from the government, and we must say, that considering the nature of her bereavement, she bore up remarkably well. "He were a good man for many things," she observed, "but a woman might as well be a widder as to have her husband at sea all the time," so after wearing very deep mourning for six months, the boatswain's relict moderated her grief and crape at the same time, and came out in such killing costume, that three ardent admirers offered her their hands and hearts within as many weeks of the change. Strange to say, she refused them, and informed the world about her that it would have to be a remarkably bright fellow who would be taken into Mr. Shever's place in her heart. She held undoubted sway as belle of Crumpton Street, until one unlucky day, the widow of a "retired dustman" took lodgings in the opposite house, and, as Mrs. Shever expressed it, laid herself out to angle for her lovers. Much to the disgust of the late boatswain's widow, the new arrival managed to captivate a young hairdresser, who finding the dustman's widow had more money than his first flame, not only cut the acquaintance of the latter, but irritated her by sitting at her rival's parlour window and playing upon a concertina such airs as "All's Well," "The Girl I left behind me," and several others strongly suggestive of her forlorn state.

It was very aggravating to her when she saw this, and heard what she denominated his "setarical" tunes, but the boatswain's widow was revenged. The perfidious ones billed and cooed for a few months, then got married, went to live in a fashionable street, lost money, fell out, she scolded, he beat her and took to drink, she drove the concern, he eloped with the young girl who sold cosmetics in the front shop, she bolted with the foreman hairdresser by the back door—and—the concern was sold out, and turned into a dressmaking establishment, over the door of which was this name in letters of gold:

Mrs. Shever,
Dressmaker.
Ladies own materials made up.

It was a better situation than her former one, and the business prospered in it; but, poor thing, she was lonely, and was on the point of despairing, when one morning she heard the wonderful news of Jerry's return to his ship, and from that moment was an altered woman. Mary Ann was duly informed of the state of affairs, and congratulated her sister upon the same.

"He was always fond of you, you know, 'Melia."

"Me? Mr. Thompson fond of me? Oh lor, Mary Ann, how silly you do talk. Why, I don't know if I would accept him if he was to offer this moment."

"Oh nonsense, 'Melia. He ain't here. You knows that, or you'd not go on in that way."

"What way?"

"Saying you don't love him."

"Gracious, Mary Ann, can't I speak of a gentleman of my acquaintance without you being jealous of me, and flying at me like that?" Here Mrs. Shever burst into tears. "You know you've a sneaking regard for him, and don't want to see him marry me."

"However you can say that of me, Mrs. Shever, I can't think. I'm the lawful wife of Mr. Joseph Jenkins, and I don't cast no sheep's eyes at old lovers, who don't think much of one, as they let them as loved them marry, and never wrote nobody until it was too late," cried the girl, also shedding tears, whether of regret or of anger we know not.

Now, the boatswain's widow was a good-hearted woman, and loved her sister very much; so upon seeing her weep she embraced her, and declared that she was a brute to make any one cry who had been so good to her as her own sister Mary Ann. After which they cried in concert, and then became more loving than ever.

"Then you mean to marry Mr. Thompson, 'Melia?"

Mrs. Shever blushed, looked confused, hesitated, stammered and laughed, but at last confessed to her sister that it wouldn't be her fault if she did not hook Mr. Thompson as soon as he landed.

"But you'll have to wait ever so long, dear. The ship ain't ordered home yet."

"Wait! Who wouldn't wait for such a man as that? Why, I'd wait for ten years."

"You'd be grey before then, 'Melia dear, wouldn't you?" exclaimed Mary Ann with a touch of mischief; "and perhaps Mr. Thompson wouldn't have you. Besides, maybe he has fallen in with one of them black gals in Chinee, and won't come back at all. I don't want to dishearten you, but you mustn't be too sure."

"Fiddle. He ain't married no Chinee gal,—he's a deal too smart for that; and if I'm grey when he comes back, I'll dye."

"Hadn't you better write him and say you're well?"

"Oh dear me, no. Why, no lady ever makes the first advances. Gracious me! what would people think if they heered I had wrote to a gentleman who were not my intended?"

"Well," observed her sister as she tied her bonnet strings preparatory to leaving the house, "'Melia dear, I wish you every success, but my opinion is that Jerry Thompson has been and splashed his affections somewhere else, and you'd better not wait for him. I didn't, and I'm thankful for it."

"And so am I, dear—heartily!" added Mrs. Shever as the buxom form of Mary Ann vanished through the doorway. "Very heartily indeed, I may say, as my chances would have been mighty small had you not been disposed of."