As Fritz and Jack were thus engaged in gazing listlessly on the ocean, and reflecting upon their altered prospects, and perhaps trying to penetrate the veil of the future, Willis came towards them rubbing his breast, as if he had been seized with a violent internal spasm.

“Hilloa,” cried Jack, “the Pilot is sea-sick!  Shall I run for some brandy, Willis?”

“No, stop a bit; we were in hopes of falling in with Captain Littlestone, were we not?”

“Yes; but what then?”

“We were disappointed, were we not?”

“Yes.  That has not made you ill, has it?”

“No; somebody else has turned up; there is one of the Nelson’s crew on board this ship.”

“One of the Nelson’s crew?”

“Aye, and if you only knew how my heart beat when I saw him.”

“I can easily conceive your feelings,” said Jack, “for my own heart has almost leaped into my mouth.”

“And I am thunderstruck,” added Fritz.

“I went towards my old friend,” continued Willis, “with tears in my eyes, threw my arms round him, and gave him a hearty but affectionate hug.”

“And what did he say?”

“Nothing, at first; but, as soon as I left his arms at liberty, he gave me such a punch in the ribs as almost doubled me in two; it was enough to knock the in’ards out of a rhinoceros—­ugh!”

“A blow in earnest?” exclaimed Fritz in astonishment.

“Yes; there was no mistake about it; it was a real, good, earnest John Bull knock-down thump; it put me in mind of Portsmouth on a pay day—­ugh!”

“Extremely touching,” said Jack, smiling.

“Then, when I called him by his name Bill Stubbs, and asked what had become of the sloop, he said that he knew nothing at all about the sloop, and swore that he had never set his eyes on my figure-head before, the varmint—­ugh!”

“Odd,” remarked Jack.

“Are you sure of your man?” inquired Fritz.

“But you say his name is Bill, whilst he declares his name is Bob.”

“Aye, he has evidently been up to some mischief, and changed his ticket.”

“Then what conclusion do you draw from the affair.”

“I am completely bewildered, and scarcely know what to think; perhaps the crew has mutinied, and turned Captain Littlestone adrift on a desert island.  That is sometimes done.  Perhaps—­”

“It is no use perhapsing those sort of melancholy things,” said Fritz; “we may as well suppose, for the present, that Captain Littlestone is safe, and that your friend has been put on shore for some misdemeanour.”

“May be, may be, Master Fritz; and I hope and trust it is so.  But to have an old comrade amongst us, who could give us all the information we want, and yet not to be able to get a single thing out of him—­”

“Except a punch in the ribs,” suggested Jack.

“Exactly; and a punch that will not let me forget the lubber in a hurry,” added Willis, clenching his fist; “but I intend, in the meantime, to keep my weather eye open.”