Chapter 13

IN STRANGE WATERS.

When Doctor Walker had departed, the Admiral packed
all his possessions back into his sea chest with the
exception of one little brass-bound desk. This he
unlocked, and took from it a dozen or so blue sheets of
paper all mottled over with stamps and seals, with very
large V. R.'s printed upon the heads of them. He tied
these carefully into a small bundle, and placing them in
the inner pocket of his coat, he seized his stick and
hat.

"Oh, John, don't do this rash thing," cried Mrs.
Denver, laying her hands upon his sleeve. "I have seen
so little of you, John. Only three years since you left
the service. Don't leave me again. I know it is weak of
me, but I cannot bear it."

"There's my own brave lass," said he, smoothing down
the grey-shot hair. "We've lived in honor together,
mother, and please God in honor we'll die. No matter how
debts are made, they have got to be met, and what the boy
owes we owe. He has not the money, and how is he to find
it? He can't find it. What then? It becomes my
business, and there's only one way for it."

"But it may not be so very bad, John. Had we not
best wait until after he sees these people to-morrow?"

"They may give him little time, lass. But I'll have
a care that I don't go so far that I can't put back
again. Now, mother, there's no use holding me. It's got
to be done, and there's no sense in shirking it." He
detached her fingers from his sleeve, pushed her gently
back into an arm-chair, and hurried from the house.

In less than half an hour the Admiral was whirled
into Victoria Station and found himself amid a dense
bustling throng, who jostled and pushed in the crowded
terminus. His errand, which had seemed feasible enough
in his own room, began now to present difficulties in the
carrying out, and he puzzled over how he should take the
first steps. Amid the stream of business men, each
hurrying on his definite way, the old seaman in his grey
tweed suit and black soft hat strode slowly along, his
head sunk and his brow wrinkled in perplexity. Suddenly
an idea occurred to him. He walked back to the railway
stall and bought a daily paper. This he turned and
turned until a certain column met his eye, when he
smoothed it out, and carrying it over to a seat,
proceeded to read it at his leisure.

And, indeed, as a man read that column, it
seemed strange to him that there should still remain
any one in this world of ours who should be in straits
for want of money. Here were whole lines of gentlemen
who were burdened with a surplus in their incomes, and
who were loudly calling to the poor and needy to come and
take it off their hands. Here was the guileless person