Willy had once seen a cabin boy flogged with a cat-o’-nine-tails, and there was nothing in the world which he feared more than rats, so he thought it best to make peace with his uncle.  After a pause he said: 

“If you really are my uncle, I must obey you, but don’t whip me, and don’t shut me up with the rats, please.—­If you wish me to love you very much indeed, send me back to the College.”

“Don’t say another word about that College,” snarled the Captain with a dark look.  “Now dry your eyes.  Here we are on the shore, and here is our boat.  Get in, obey—­else—­”

The Captain sprang into the boat and Willy followed without more ado.  He looked back toward the city to seek among the domes that of the Cathedral of the Holy Saviour, and soon recognized it by the scaffolding.  At sight of the glittering crosses tears came to his eyes, but the thought that those he had left behind would pray for him comforted him.  Unmoved he gazed while the boat glided in and out between the great ships at anchor in the harbor, and at last, far out, they reached the ship they sought.  The “St. George” was a beautiful boat with three masts, and as we have said Willy had made more than one trip on it with his father.  He was then the darling of the crew.  Now as he climbed the ladder behind the Captain strange faces peered down at him over the railing; there were new officers, and officers and crew alike seemed rough fellows.  Late in the evening as he stood on the rear deck watching the golden crosses of the Church of the Holy Saviour in the light of the setting sun, he heard a well-known voice behind him speak his name.

“Oh, it is you, Tommy Green!” said Willy looking around in a friendly manner.  “So there really is after all one old friend on board.  Are you still the second mate?  Where are James and John and all the rest?”

“Well, Master Willy,” said Tommy, “they are all gone, one to the ’South Star,’ and the others to ‘The Water Rose.’  I was on the point of leaving”—­then he added, looking around cautiously and lowering his voice, “for the life on the ‘St. George’ is not what it was when your father was alive.  God rest his soul!  Now instead of rice sacks and bales of merchandise we carry human freight—­slant-eyed, pig-tailed Chinamen bound for the gold fields of Australia.”

“I am so glad you are here, Tommy; there is one human being on board I know,” repeated Willy.

“Why Master Willy, do you not know your uncle, the Captain?”

“I did not know until today that I had an uncle.”

“Is that possible?  Well, your father surely had no reason to be proud of his brother.  Why, in a single night he gambled away ’The Gold Nixie’ and more, too.  I believe that he would gamble away the ’St. George’ if it were his, but it belongs to you, Master Willy.  I ought not to say anything to such a young lad as you about the matter—­I know that, but—­”