where the ship would be paid off.  At daylight there was a leading wind up the river, and we made sail, carrying with us three-fourths of the flood.  The discipline and order of the ship’s company were so great that I felt much more confidence in piloting this vessel, notwithstanding her greater draught of water, than I did a merchant vessel, in which you had to wait so long before the people could execute what you required:  here, it was but to speak and it was done, well done, and done immediately; the vessel appeared to obey the will of the pilot as if endued with sense and volition, and the men at the lead gave quick and correct soundings; the consequence was that I had every confidence, and while the captain and officers sometimes appeared anxious at the decrease of the depth of water, I was indifferent, and I daresay appeared to them careless, but such was not the case.

“Quarter less five.”

“Quarter less five.  Pilot, do you know what water we draw?”

“Yes, Sir James, I do; we shall have half four directly, and after that the water will deepen.”

As it proved exactly as I stated, the captain had after that more confidence in me.  At all events, the frigate was brought safely to an anchor in the river Medway, and Sir James O’Connor went down to his cabin, leaving the first lieutenant to moor her, for such were the port orders.  As I had nothing more to do, I thought I might as well go on shore, and get a cast down by one of the night coaches to Dover.  I therefore begged the first lieutenant to order my certificate of pilotage to be made out, and to inquire if I could take anything down to Deal for the captain.  A few minutes afterward I was summoned down to the captain.  I found him sitting at his table with wine before him.  My certificates, which the clerk had before made out, were signed, but my name was not inserted.

“I must have your name, pilot, to fill in here.”

“Thomas Saunders, Sir James,” replied I.

“Well, my lad, you’re young for a pilot; but you appear to know your business well, and you have brought this ship up in good style.  Here are your certificates,” said he, as he filled in my name.

I had my spy-glass in my hand, and, to take up the certificates and fold them to fit them into my tin case, I laid my glass down on the table close to him.  Sir James looked at it as if surprised, took it up in his hand, turned it round, and appeared quite taken aback.  He then looked at the brass rim where the name had been erased, and perceived where it had been filed away.

“Mr. Saunders,” said he at last, “if not taking a liberty, may I ask where you procured this spy-glass?”

“Yes, Sir James, it was given me by a person who has been very kind to me ever since I was a boy.”

“Mr. Saunders, I beg your pardon—­I do not ask this question out of mere curiosity—­I have seen this glass before; it once belonged to a very dear friend of mine.  Can you give me any further information?  You said it was given you by—­”