“Whenever a man drinks with such a motive, Clinch, I would advise him to abstain altogether.  He cannot trust himself; and that which he terms his friend is, in truth, his direst enemy.  Refuse your rations, even; determine to be free.  One week, nay, one day, may give a strength that will enable you to conquer, by leaving your reason unimpaired.  Absence from the ship has accidentally befriended you—­for the little you have taken here has not been sufficient to do any harm.  We are now engaged on a most interesting duty, and I will throw service into your way that may be of importance to you.  Get your name once fairly in a despatch, and your commission is safe.  Nelson loves to prefer old tars; and nothing would make him happier than to be able to serve you.  Put it in my power to ask it of him, and I’ll answer for the result.  Something may yet come out of your visit to the cottage of this woman, and do you be mindful to keep yourself in fortune’s way.”

“God bless you, Captain Cuffe—­God bless you, sir,” answered Clinch, nearly choked; “I’ll endeavor to do as you wish.”

“Remember Jane and your mother.  With such a woman dependent for her happiness on his existence, a man must be a brute not to struggle hard.”

Clinch groaned—­for Cuffe probed his wound deep; though it was done with an honest desire to cure.  After wiping the perspiration from his face, and writhing on his chair, however, he recovered a little of his self-command, and became comparatively composed.

“If a friend could only point out the way by which I might recover some of the lost ground,” he said, “my gratitude to him would last as long as life, Captain Cuffe.”

“Here is an opening then, Clinch.  Nelson attaches as much importance to our catching this lugger as he ever did to falling in with a fleet.  The officer who is serviceable on this occasion may be sure of being remembered, and I will give you every chance in my power.  Go, dress yourself in your best; make yourself look as you know you can; then be ready for boat service.  I have some duty for you now, which will be but the beginning of good luck, if you only remain true to your mother, to Jane, and to yourself.”

A new life was infused into Clinch.  For years he had been overlooked—­apparently forgotten, except when thorough seamanship was required; and even his experiment of getting transferred to a vessel commanded by an old messmate had seemingly failed.  Here was a change, however, and a ray, brighter than common, shone athwart the darkness of his future.  Even Cuffe was struck with the cheerfulness of his countenance, and the alacrity of the master’s-mate’s movements, and he reproached himself with having so long been indifferent to the best interests of one who certainly had some claims on his friendship.  Still, there was nothing unusual in the present relations between these old messmates.  Favored by family and friends, Cuffe had never been permitted to fall