With an animation that again riveted the eyes of Lieutenant Mordaunt on his countenance, Edward eagerly entered on the subject.  No other could have been dearer to him; Mordaunt could have fixed on few which would thus have called forth the eloquence of his young companion.  Sailor as he was, truly enthusiastic in his profession, yet home to Edward still possessed invincible attractions, and the devoted affection, gratitude, and reverence he felt for his aunt appeared to increase with his years.  Neither Percy nor Herbert could have loved her more.  He spoke as he felt; he told of all he owed her, and not only himself but his orphan sister; he said that as a mother she had been to them both, that never once had she made the slightest difference between them and her own children.  He painted in vivid colours the domestic joys of Oakwood, the affectionate harmony that reigned there, till Mordaunt felt his eyes glisten with emotion, and ere that conversation ceased, all that affection which for many a long and weary year had pined for some one on which to expend its force, now centred in the noble youth of whose preservation he had been so strangely and providentially an instrument.  To Edward it was not in the least strange, that any one who had once known his aunt, it mattered not how many years previous, should still retain a lively remembrance of her, and wish to know more concerning her, and his feelings were strongly excited towards one, whose interest in all that concerned her was evidently so great.  His first letter to his family, which he enclosed in one to his captain, spoke very much of Lieutenant Mordaunt, wondering that his aunt had never mentioned one who remembered her so well.  This letter, as we know, was never received, and the next he wrote was too hurried to enter into particulars, except those that related to himself alone.  When he again wrote home, he had become so attached and so used to Mordaunt, that he fancied he must be as well known to his family as himself, and though he mentioned his name repeatedly, he did not think of inquiring anything concerning him.

The able activity as a sailor, the graceful, courteous manner of Edward as a man, soon won him the hearts of Captain Bartholomew and all his crew.  Ever the first when there was anything to be done on board or on shore, lively, high-spirited, and condescending, his appearance on deck after any absence was generally acknowledged with respect.  The various characters thus presented to his notice in the Spanish crew, the many ports he touched at, afforded him continual and exciting amusement, although his thoughts very often lingered on his darling “Gem,” with the ardent desire to be once more doing his duty on her decks.  But amid all these changing scenes, Edward and his friend, diverse as were their ages and apparently their dispositions, became almost inseparable.  An irresistible impulse urged Edward repeatedly to talk to him of his home, till Mordaunt became intimately