of the cruise: and from that time, the wizen little hunchback had been
the stalwart seaman's friend and companion. For fifteen years, during
which Valentine Jernam and his younger brother, George, had been
traders on the high seas, things had gone well with these two brothers;
but never had fortune so liberally favoured their trading as during the
four years in which Joyce Harker had prompted every commercial
adventure, and guided every speculation.

"Four years to-day, Joyce, since I first set eyes upon your face in the
hospital at New Orleans," said Captain Jernam, in the confidence of
this jovial hour. "'Why, the fellow's dead,' said I. 'No; he's only
dying,' says the doctor. 'What's the matter with him?' asked I.
'Home-sickness and empty pockets,' says the doctor; 'he was employed in
a gaming-house in the city, got knocked on the head in some row, and
was brought here. We've got him through a fever that was likely enough
to have finished him; but there he lies, as weak as a starved rat. He
has neither money nor friends. He wants to get back to England; but he
has no more hope of ever seeing that country than I have of being
Emperor of Mexico.' 'Hasn't he?' says I; 'we'll tell you a different
story about that, Mr. Doctor. If you can patch the poor devil up
between this and next Monday, I'll take him home in my ship, without
the passage costing him sixpence.' You don't feel offended with me for
having called you a poor devil, eh, Joyce?--for you really were, you
know--you really were an uncommonly poor creature just then," murmured
the captain, apologetically.

"Offended with you!" exclaimed the factotum; "that's a likely thing.
Don't I owe you my life? How many more of my countrymen passed me by as
I lay on that hospital-bed, and left me to rot there, for all they
cared? I heard their loud voices and their creaking boots as I lay