On one such occasion, when the warmth and brightness of a May day had made Helston more than usually enthusiastic as to his chances of full-pay service, Dr. Fox, knocking the ashes out of his pipe, growled, "Next ship, indeed! You talk of nothing but ships and sea, sea and ships, when you ought to be buying a Bath chair to be wheeled about in."
"Never mind, old chap, I'm not as bad as that, and I'll bet you that they give me a ship in less than six months!"
"If they do, I will come with you," jeered the Doctor, as he stalked moodily to bed.
"That's a bargain," shouted Helston cheerfully after him.
Now one reason why Helston had settled down here with the Doctor, and the great source of his ambitious dreams, was a certain lady named Milly, who, with her father—his name is not necessary, for he was always spoken of as "the Admiral", or "Miss Milly's father"—lived close to the village. He had wooed her constantly for many years, and had known her since she was born, but the somewhat disdainful little lady had refused him many times, though not without giving him some slight hope of better success if ever he were promoted to the rank of captain. However, as Mistress Milly never personally enters this story, nothing more need be said of her than that she was one of the most bewitching little flirts who ever tyrannized over an old father, or played havoc with the heart of every man she met.
A few weeks after this incident, and whilst the two were at breakfast, the old village postman stumbled up the path leading to their house, and Jenkins, a sombre, morose man of few words, brought in a big official envelope.
"What did I say, old chap?" cried Helston excitedly, tearing it open. "Didn't I say my luck would change? Hullo! this isn't an ordinary appointment. Whatever is it?" A large number of papers fell on the table, and, the Doctor showing some signs of interest, the two men hurriedly examined them, Jenkins standing behind at attention in order to learn the news.
The first one was from the Admiralty, informing Helston that the enclosures had been received through the Chinese Embassy, and ordering him to report himself at Whitehall immediately. These enclosures were lists of ships supposed to be wrecked on the Chinese coast during the last few years, lists of Chinese men-of-war supposed to have been destroyed during the Chino-Japanese war, and papers showing the gradual rise in insurance rates for the Chinese coasting trade.
"Where's your appointment?" sneered the Doctor. "I'm off to see my patients."
"I've got it, Doc; look here! Do you remember that old mandarin we got out of a scrape at Cheefoo once? Well, here's a letter from him. Listen!" Saying which, Helston sat on the table and read it aloud, whilst the Doctor filled his pipe impatiently:—