CAPTAIN WILLIS. 17

Rosomond,’ in which vessel we had come home
from Jamaica, and a great chum of mine. ‘Mr
Willis,’ I said, ‘do you remember me? I am
Harry Bayford.’

‘Not by looks, but by your voice and eyes I do,
my boy,’ he answered, grasping my hand and
shaking it heartily. ‘But what has happened? I
see you are in mourning.’ ~

I told him of my father’s misfortunes and death;
and as we walked along frankly opened out on my
views and plans. ‘ You will have no chance in the
navy without means or friends, Harry,’ he answered.
‘There’s no use thinking about the matter; but if
your mind is set on going to sea I'll take you, and
do my best to make a sailor of you. I have com-
mand of the “ Chieftain,” an African trader, the
brigantine you see off in the stream there. Though
we do not profess to take midshipmen, I'll give you
a berth in my cabin, and I don’t see that in the
long run you will run more risk than you would
have to go through on board vessels trading to
other parts of the world.’

‘Thank you, Captain Willis, very much,’ I
exclaimed, ‘I little expected so soon to go to

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sea,
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