face with this impracticable type.

"I believe I have the pleasure of addressing Lieutenant Sebright," said
I, stepping forward.

"Aw, yes," replied the hero; "but, aw! I dawn't knaw you, do I?" (He
spoke for all the world like Lord Foppington in the old play--a proof of
the perennial nature of man's affectations. But his limping dialect, I
scorn to continue to reproduce.)


"It was with the intention of making myself known, that I have taken
this step," said I, entirely unabashed (for impudence begets in me its
like--perhaps my only martial attribute). "We have a common subject of
interest, to me very lively; and I believe I may be in a position to be
of some service to a friend of yours--to give him, at least, some very
welcome information."

The last clause was a sop to my conscience: I could not pretend, even
to myself, either the power or the will to serve Mr. Carthew; but I felt
sure he would like to hear the Flying Scud was burned.

"I don't know--I--I don't understand you," stammered my victim. "I don't
have any friends in Honolulu, don't you know?"

"The friend to whom I refer is English," I replied. "It is Mr. Carthew,
whom you picked up at Midway. My firm has bought the wreck; I am just
returned from breaking her up; and--to make my business quite clear to
you--I have a communication it is necessary I should make; and have to
trouble you for Mr. Carthew's address."