The soldier leaped from his bunk and gratefully proceeded to dress himself, Joe eyeing him critically as the trousers climbed up his long legs, and the sleeves of the jacket did their best to conceal his elbows.

“What do I look like?” he inquired anxiously, as he finished.

“Six foot an’ a half o’ misery,” piped the shrill voice of Billy promptly, as he thrust his head in at the fo’c’sle.  “You can’t go to church in those clothes.”

“Well, they’ll do for the ship, but you can’t go ashore in ’em,” said Joe, as he edged towards the ladder, and suddenly sprang up a step or two to let fly at the boy, “The old man wants to see you; be careful what you say to him.”

With a very unsuccessful attempt to appear unconscious of the figure he cut, Smith went up on deck for the interview.

“We can’t do anything until we get to London,” said the skipper, as he made copious notes of Smith’s adventures.  “As soon as we get there, I’ll lend you the money to telegraph to your friends to tell ’em you’re safe and to send you some clothes, and of course you’ll have free board and lodging till it comes, and I’ll write out an account of it for the newspapers.”

“You’re very good,” said Smith blankly.

“And I don’t know what you are,” said the skipper, interrogatively; “but you ought to go in for swimming as a profession—­six hours’ swimming about like that is wonderful.”

“You don’t know what you can do till you have to,” said Smith modestly, as he backed slowly away; “but I never want to see the water again as long as I live.”

The two remaining days of their passage passed all too quickly for the men, who were casting about for some way out of the difficulty which they foresaw would arise when they reached London.

“If you’d only got decent clothes,” said Joe, as they passed Gravesend, “you could go off and send a telegram, and not come back; but you couldn’t go five yards in them things without having a crowd after you.”

“I shall have to be taken I s’pose,” said Smith moodily.

“An’ poor old Dan’ll get six months hard for helping you off,” said Joe sympathetically, as a bright idea occurred to him.

“Rubbish!” said Dan uneasily.  “He can stick to his tale of being upset; anyway, the skipper saw him pulled out of the water.  He’s too honest a chap to get an old man into trouble for trying to help him.”

“He must have a new rig out, Dan,” said Joe softly.  “You an’ me’ll go an’ buy ’em.  I’ll do the choosing, and you’ll do the paying.  Why, it’ll be a reg’lar treat for you to lay out a little money, Dan.  We’ll have quite an evening’s shopping, everything of the best.”

The infuriated Dan gasped for breath, and looked helplessly at the grinning crew.

“I’ll see him—­overboard first,” he said furiously.

“Please yourself,” said Joe shortly, “If he’s caught you’ll get six months.  As it is, you’ve got a chance of doing a nice, kind little Christian act, becos, o’ course, that twenty-five bob you got out of him won’t anything like pay for his toggery.”