Charlie surveyed himself in his new attire with some complacency. He felt that it was becoming, and it gave him a new feeling of manliness. In fact it seemed to him, for the time being, as if he were really a sailor. Charlie, however, though he was very well pleased with his sailor's rig, did not feel in the least tempted to wear it professionally. Accordingly, after the survey was over, he began to divest himself of it.

[90]

"What are you doing?" asked the mate, laying his hand heavily upon the shoulder of our young hero.

"Taking off your nephew's clothes," returned Charlie, looking up in considerable surprise at the tone in which he was addressed.

"What's that for?"

"To put on my own."

"Then you needn't trouble yourself," said Randall, composedly; "those you have on are your own."

"What do you mean?" asked Charlie meeting the mate's triumphant look with an open, manly glance.

"I mean," said Randall, with a sardonic look, "that the clothes were bought for the one who now wears them."

"Bought for me!" exclaimed Charlie, in great bewilderment.

"Yes. You wondered how they happened to fit you so well. That is easily explained. They were picked out on purpose for you. The old Jew in the clothing-store took your measure with his eye while you[91] were standing there with me. Faith, he's got a pretty sharp eye."

"But your nephew?" said Charlie, his heart sinking, as he began to comprehend the plot to which he had fallen a victim; "I thought you said they belonged to him."

"Well," said Randall, with a harsh laugh, "you're my nephew."

"I am not," said Charlie, with something of haughtiness in his tone, as he surveyed the mate scornfully.

"He's got his mother's look," muttered the latter. "That's the way she looked when she sent me about my business. She'd look something different, I fancy, if she knew I'd got her boy in my power. I've got the whip-hand of her now, and she'll live yet to repent the day she rejected Jack Randall."

These thoughts flashed through his mind in an instant, and did not prevent his answering at once Charlie's bold denial.

"There's a little too much pride about you, youngster. It'll need taming down. You're to be my nephew while you're aboard this[92] ship. Remember, your name is Jack Randall. Take care that you claim no other."

"What good will that do?" said Charlie. "I am not going to remain on board."

"You're not, eh?" said the mate, significantly.

"No," said Charlie, boldly.

"Suppose I say you shall."

"Then," said Charlie, firmly, "I say you are mistaken."

Our hero was a boy of spirit, and had no idea of being disposed of without his own consent. He commenced tugging away at his blue jacket with the intention of pulling it off.

"What are you doing?" asked Randall, with a frown, advancing and laying a heavy hand on the boy's shoulder. "Haven't I told you to keep those clothes on?"

"You have no right to interfere with me," said Charlie, stoutly, his eye flashing with indignation. "Give me back my clothes."

"You can't have them. If you strip off those you have on you'll have to go without any."

[93]

Exasperated, Charlie made a spring forward, and attempted to wrest his clothes from the hands of the mate.

"Ha, my fine fellow!" exclaimed Randall, as, evading the boy's grasp, he lifted them beyond his reach. "So you are inclined to be mutinous, are you? Very well, we have a remedy for all such cases, and a very simple one it is."

So saying, he drew a stout cord from his pocket, and advanced towards our hero with the intention of binding him.

Charlie sprang for the stairs, and was half way up before the mate caught him and dragged him back.

"Well, boy, you're a pretty tough customer—true grit. You're just the boy to make a sailor of. I must make sure of you."

So saying, he succeeded, in spite of Charlie's vigorous exertions, in tying his hands and feet. Not until thus rendered quite helpless did the brave boy suffer himself to bur............