"Thank you, sir: I couldn't ask for more. There's another thing: do you think you could do anything for Mr. Toley? He's a capital fellow."
"I know it. I have anticipated you. Toley is appointed captain of the Jane, an Indiaman that arrived the other day; her captain died of scurvy on the way out. She'll sail for England next week; we go with her, and so does that villain Barker, who'll get his deserts when he reaches London. The Good Intent is broken up; her interloping is over for good and all. But come, my boy, sure 'tis time we dressed: Admiral Watson likes punctuality, and I promise you he'll give us a capital dinner. A word in your ear: Phyllis is to sit between you and Hastings. You can't eat him, at any rate."
A week later Desmond went down to the Company's ghat to see the Jane sail. Mr. Toley, in his brand new uniform, looked more melancholy than ever, and Phyllis Merriman made a little grimace when she saw for the first time the captain under whose charge she was to sail for home.
"Don't be alarmed," said Desmond, laughing. "The sadder he looks, I believe the happier he is. Silas Toley is a fine seaman and a true gentleman.--I wonder if we shall ever meet again, Miss Merriman?"
"I wonder, Mr. Burke."
"I shall hear about you, I hope."
"Dear me! 'tis very unlikely. Father hates putting pen to paper. 'Tis far more likely I shall hear of you, Mr. Burke, doing terrible things among these poor Indians--and tigers: I am sure you must want to shoot a tiger."
"You shall have my first skin--if I may send it."
"Mamma will be charmed, I am sure; though, indeed, she may have too many of them, for we have the same promise from--let me see--Mr. Lushington, Mr. Picard, Mr. Hastings, and----"
"All aboard!" sang out a voice from the deck of the vessel.