Once more, for the last time, Clerk Gum took a journey, not to London,
but to Liverpool. He succeeded in seeing the officer who had been
saved; but he could give him no information. He knew the names of the
first-class passengers, but only a few of the second-class; and in that
class Willy had most likely sailed.

The clerk described his son; and the officer thought he remembered him:
he had a good deal of gold on board, he said. One of the passengers spoke
more positively. Yes, by Clerk Gum's description, he was sure Willy Gum
had been his fellow-passenger in the second cabin, though he did not
recollect whether he had heard his name. It seemed, looking back, that
the passengers had hardly had time to become acquainted with each other's
names, he added. He was sure it was the young man; of very light
complexion, ready and rather loose (if Mr. Gum would excuse his saying
so) in speech. He had made thoroughly good hauls of gold at the last, and
was going home to spend it. He was the second killed, poor fellow; had
risen up with a volley of oaths (excuses begged again) to defend the
captain, and was struck down and killed.

Poor Jabez Gum gasped. _Killed?_ was the gentleman _sure_? Quite sure;
and, moreover, he saw his body thrown overboard with the rest of the
dead. And the money--the gold? Jabez asked, when he had somewhat
recovered himself. The passenger laughed--not at the poor father, but at
the worse than useless question; gold and everything else on board the
_Morning Star_ had gone down with her to the bottom of the sea.

A species of savage impulse rose in the clerk's mind, replacing his first
emotion of grief; an impulse that might almost have led him to murder the
villain Gordon, could he have come across him. Was there a chance that