"Really, madam, I cannot tell; but it is my duty to inquire," replied the colonel, who, going up to Captain Drawlock, commenced--"Have the ladies already so fallen in your estimation--"

"Forty degrees!" cried Captain Drawlock, who was intent upon his s.e.xtant. "Excuse me, sir, just now."

"When will you be at leisure, sir?" resumed the colonel, haughtily.

"Twenty-six minutes," continued the captain, reading off his s.e.xtant.

"A little sooner, I should hope, sir," retorted the colonel.

"Forty-five seconds."

"This is really quite insufferable! Miss Revel, we had better go in."

"Stop!" again cried Captain Drawlock, in a loud voice.

"Stop!" repeated Mrs Ferguson, angrily; "surely we are not slaves."

Newton, who heard what was pa.s.sing, could not repress his laughter.

"Indeed, I am sure there must be some mistake, Mrs Ferguson," observed Isabel. "Wait a little."

"Forty-six minutes, thirty seconds," again read off the captain.

"Capital sights both! but the sun is behind that dark cloud, and we shall have no more of his presence."

"Nor of ours, I a.s.sure you, sir," said Mrs Ferguson, rising, as Captain Drawlock walked from the gangway to the capstern.

"Why, my dear madam, what is the matter?"

"We have not been accustomed to such peremptory language, sir. It may be the custom on board ship to holla 'stop' to ladies when they address you, or express a wish to leave the deck."

"My dearest madam, I do a.s.sure you, upon my honour, that you are under a mistake. I ordered Mr Forster to stop, not you."

"Mr Forster!" replied the lady; "why, he was standing still the whole time!"

It was not until the whole system of taking sights for chronometers had been satisfactorily explained that the lady recovered her good-humour.

While the captain was thus employed with Mrs Ferguson, Newton, although it was not necessary, explained the mystery to Miss Revel, who, with Mrs Ferguson, soon after quitted the deck.

The sights taken proved the ship to be to the eastward of her reckoning.

The other ships in company had made the same discovery, and the course was altered one quarter of a point. In two days they dropped their anchor in Funchal Roads.

But I must for a little while recross the Bay of Biscay, and with my reader look into the chambers of Mr John Forster.

Look Upon this child I saved her, must not leave Her life to chance; but point me out some nook Of safety, where she less may shrink and grieve.

This child, who parentless, is therefore mine.

BYRON.

A few minutes after Newton had quitted the chambers of his uncle the clerk made his appearance, announcing to Mr John Forster that a gentleman requested to speak to him.

"I asked the gentleman's name, sir," observed the clerk, shutting to the door, "but he did not choose to give it. He has a little girl with him."

"Very well, Scratton, the little girl cannot concern me," replied the old lawyer; "ask him to walk in;"--and he again conned over the brief, not choosing to lose the minute which might elapse before he was again to be interrupted. The door was reopened, and Edward Forster, with Amber holding him by the hand, entered the room.

"Your servant, sir. Scratton, a chair--two chairs, Scratton. I beg your pardon, young lady."

When the clerk had retired, Mr John Forster commenced as usual. "Now, sir, may I request the favour of asking your business with me?"

"You do not recollect me; nor am I surprised at it, as it is fifteen years since we last met. Time and suffering, which have worn me to a skeleton, have also worn out the remembrance of a brother. I am Edward Forster."

"Edward Forster!--humph! Well, I did not recollect you; but I'm very glad to see you, brother. Very strange never have heard of one of my family for years, and now they all turn up at once! No sooner get rid of one than up starts another. Nicholas came from the Lord knows where, the other day."

Edward Forster, who was better acquainted with his brother's character than Newton, took no notice of the abruptness of his remarks, but replied:--

"Nicholas! Is he then alive? I shall be delighted to see him."

"Humph!" replied John, "I was delighted to get rid of him. Take care of your watch or spectacles when you meet him."

"Indeed, brother! I trust he is not such a character."

"But he is a character, I can tell you; not what you suppose--he's honest enough. Let me see if my memory serves me, brother Edward, we last met when you were pa.s.sing through London on your way to ---, having been invalided, and having obtained a pension of forty pounds per annum for a severe wound received in action. And pray, brother, where have you been ever since?"

"At the same spot, from which I probably never should have been induced to remove, had it not been for the sake of this little girl who is now with me."

"And pray who may be that little girl? is she your daughter?"

"Only by adoption."

"Humph, brother! for a half-pay lieutenant that appears rather an expensive whim!--bad enough to maintain children of our own begetting."

"You say true," replied Edward; "but if in this instance I have incurred an expense and responsibility, it must be considered to be more my misfortune than my fault." Edward Forster then entered into the particulars connected with Amber's rescue. "You must acknowledge, brother John," observed Edward, as he closed his narrative, "that I could not well have acted otherwise; you would not have yourself."

"Humph! I don't know that; but this I do know, that you had better have stayed at home!"

"Perhaps so, considering the forlorn prospects of the child; but we must not judge. The same Providence which willed that she should be so miraculously saved, also willed that I should be her protector;--why otherwise did the dog lay her at my feet?"

"Because it had been taught to 'fetch and carry,' I suppose: but, however, brother Edward, I have no right to question your conduct. If the girl is as good as she is pretty, why all the better for her; but, as I am rather busy, let me ask if you have any more to say to me?"

"I have, John; and the discourse we have had is preliminary. I am here with a child, forced upon me I may say, but still as dear to me as if she were mine own. You must be aware that I have nothing but my pension and half-pay to subsist upon. I can save nothing. My health is undermined and my life precarious. Last winter I never expected to quit my bed again and, as I lay in it, the thought naturally occurred of the forlorn and helpless state in which this poor little girl would be in case of my decease. In a lonely cottage,--without money--without family or friends to apply to--without any one near her being made acquainted with her unfortunate history. What would have become of her? It was this reflection which determined me, if my life was spared, as soon as my health would permit, to come to you, the only relative I was certain of still having in the world, that I might acquaint you with her existence, and, with her history, confide to you the few articles of dress which she wore when rescued, and which may eventually lead to her recognition:--a case of extreme doubt and difficulty, I grant; but the ways of Providence are mysterious, and her return to the arms of her friends will not be more wonderful than her preservation on that dreadful night. Brother! I never have applied to you in my own behalf, although conscious how ample are your means--and I never will; but I do now plead in favour of this dear child. Worn out as I am, my pilgrimage on earth can be but short; and if you would smooth the pillow of a dying brother, promise him now that you will extend your bounty to this poor orphan, when I'm no more!"

Edward Forster's voice was tremulous at the close of his appeal, and his brother appeared to be affected. There was a silence of a minute, when the customary "humph!" was e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed, and John Forster then continued: "A very foolish business, brother--very foolish indeed. When Nicholas and his son came here the other day and applied to me--why, it was all very well there was relationship;--but really, to put another man's child upon me!"

"Not while it pleases Heaven to spare _my_ life, brother."

"'May you live a thousand years!' then, as the Spanish say; but, however, brother Edward, as you say, the poor thing must not starve; so, if I am to take care of a child of another man's begetting, as soon as you are dead, I can only say, it will very much increase my sorrow at your loss. Come here, little one: What's your name?"

"Amber."

"Amber! who the devil gave you that fool's name?"