The next morning, Billy Rawlings was sent ashore with a boat to wait for Mr. Carton who had returned from Shanghai, and while there he found the story was all over the place. He also learned that the two Chinese, on being gravely asked 'Who stole the carbuncles?' had, fearing they were bewitched, confessed to the doctors the villany they had practised in concert with Slyker—a ‘loafer' whom they had dressed up to act the part he had so ably filled-on the two midshipmen, and declared their readiness to make good money.

the

When Mr. Carton came down, Billy Rawlings very sensibly told that gentleman all that had occurred, and he promised, not only to keep the whole affair a secret from Captain Bartlett, but also to recover the dollars from the villanous Chinese.

On the arrival of the Laughing Waters in London, the two lads found the money waiting them at the agent's, and that is the end of the story of

JOHN CHINAMAN AND THE MIDDIES.

IN A GOLDEN FORT.

IT

CHAPTER I.

THE GUN-ROOM OF THE CONQUEST!

T was uncommonly hot in the gun-room, or midshipman's berth, of the good frigate Conquest, 32, as she forged steadily ahead, 'west-and-be-nor'half-nor',' in the seething waters of the great Indian Ocean.

The stuffy little hole devoted to the junior officers was anything but an abode of luxury, or even comfort, in the ordinary acceptation of the term. A huge mess-chest, to contain the goods and chattels essential for mealtimes, acted as a table when closed, and occupied quite two-thirds of the whole space. Close around it, on all sides, ran the lockers, holding the special stores that were to eke out the somewhat scanty and decidedly plain 'ship's-allowance' of food, and these also

"Contrived a double debt to pay,"

being seats or lounges, at the sweet wills of the occupants, when shut down. The wooden bulk-heads,

forming the walls of the den, were fitted up with shelves, racks, pegs, and such-like conveniences for holding the movable property of the messmates— quadrants, telescopes, dirks, coats, caps, guns, fishinglines, and a miscellaneous stock of rubbish, which was invariably condemned to immediate destruction by being thrown overboard whenever the First Lieutenant thought proper, as he occasionally did, to make an inspection of the gun-room.

His mandates were always readily assented to, with the greatest deference, and the obnoxious articles at once removed—only, however, to be replaced as soon as ever the officer's back was turned. A large gunport, now open, and giving a refreshing glimpse of the great blue billows following one another in the solemn march of what is known as a 'calm swell,' took a considerable space from the outside wall of the room, while a narrow and low door opened out on the main-deck.

Two midshipmen keeping 'watch below,' i.e., doing nothing and off duty, lay extended on the lockers, stretching on either side of the gun-port, so as to get as much air as possible, indulging every now and then in rambling conversation whenever an idea, a novel visitor, came into the heads of either.

In the intervals of talk they yawned and dozed,

while the elder of them, Myles Dalton, occasionally glanced at an old newspaper he was pretending to read. After one of these attempts at perusal, he suddenly got up into a sitting posture, and flung the cushion his head had been resting on messmate, Alf Stannus, with the words:

at his

66 Wake up, you lazy beggar! Why, you're always asleep when you're not overhauling your chest, and calculating your dollars. Rouse up! I've some news here will make your mouth water, I'll bet."

"Can't you let a fellow alone, Paddy," (this was his nickname, as a matter of course, for Dalton was an Irishman,) "with your nonsense. If you had to keep that beastly morning-watch, you'd not like to be roused up every five minutes from your doze." This in a discontented, grumbling tone, as Alfred Stannus threw the cushion on the deck in a pet.

"Oh, hang your doze! I've something to read to you here that will send your doze to jehannum,the imaginative nigger calls it."

-as

"Well, what is it? Out with your nonsense, for I know it can't be anything else, you're such a chap." "You just see if it's nonsense. This is a Bombay

paper, of about the date when this expedition was

first thought of; and it gives an account of the pirate island and fort we are about to attack."

"Well, what do I care about a confounded muddy island on the coast, a gang of blackguard pirates, or an old tumble-down fort that may kill one all the same. Read it to yourself."

"But I tell you, this island, fort, and above all the temple, are absolute miracles of wealth-gold, silver, and precious stones everywhere in the most lavish profusion."

“Oh, that alters the case considerably," said Stannus, sitting now bolt upright. He was of a most rapacious disposition, and greed of wealth was his greatest vice. "Let us see the paper," he went on, "I wonder how on earth we

account before we left Bombay.

managed to miss that

Hand it over?"

"Not a bit of it; I haven't looked at it myself yet; but if you're a good boy, Alf, I'll read it out to you," said Dalton, with most provoking coolness.

"Well, steam ahead! I want to know all about it," and Alf Stannus placed himself in the attitude of an intent listener; while Dalton slowly read a most elaborate account of the pirate island which the Conquest, with a number of other men-o'-war of the Indian navy, carrying troops on board, was sailing up the Indian Ocean to reduce.

The writer in the paper, who had been for some time detained a prisoner on the island, described the