“Oh, it’s in mine!” cried the little fellow excitedly, and clapping his hand upon his pocket, as a pitiful meow seemed to come from it.  “Why, I can’t feel it.  Papa,”—­running to him,—­“please take it out, I can’t.”

The captain took hold of the pocket.  “You made a mistake, son; it isn’t there.  I feel nothing but your handkerchief and a few other little soft articles.”

“Why—­why, how queer!” exclaimed the little fellow, “I was sure I heard it in there, papa.  Oh, what is that?” as the squeal of a young pig seemed to come from his father’s pocket; but at that instant the loud and furious bark of a big dog seemed to come from some place in his rear very near at hand, and with a little cry of affright he made haste to climb upon his father’s knee for protection, putting his arms about his neck and clinging tightly to him.

But just then a loud cry came from below:  “Help! help! these rascally fellows are stealing the silver!  Captain Raymond, sir, help, or they’ll throttle me!”

At that the captain sprang to his feet, set Ned in his mother’s lap, and hurried below, while the young men rose hastily to go to his assistance, even those of them who were well acquainted with Cousin Ronald’s powers, thinking for an instant that the alarm was real.  But a laugh of amusement from him and his son let them into the secret that it was but a false alarm, the trick of a ventriloquist, and they resumed their seats as hastily as they had arisen from them.

“Oh, oh,” cried Ned, “I’m so afraid my dear papa will get hurt!  Uncle Harold and Uncle Herbert, won’t you go and help papa fight those bad men?  Please go quick!  Oh, please do!”

“Oh, no, Neddie, papa is so big and strong that he doesn’t need any help to make such fellows behave themselves,” said Lucilla.  “And here he comes all safe and sound,” as the captain stepped upon the deck again.

“Well, captain,” said Grandma Elsie, looking up smilingly into his face as he drew near, “did you catch the rogues?”

“No, mother, I could not find the least trace of them,” he answered gravely.  Then, turning to the elder Mr. Lilburn:  “Cousin Ronald,” he asked, “do you think you would know them if you were to see them?”

“I know them, cousin captain!” exclaimed the old gentleman in well-feigned astonishment.  “Can it be possible you mean to insinuate that I am the associate of beggars and thieves?”

“I mean no offence, sir,” returned the captain with a twinkle of fun in his eye, “but it sometimes happens that a very honest and honorable man may be well acquainted with the appearance of some dastardly villain.”

“I’m no sich a character as that,” snarled a rough voice that seemingly came from a part of the deck in Mr. Lilburn’s rear, and sounded very much like the one which had demanded some supper a short time before, “an’ I hope it isn’t me you’re ameanin’, fer I’m as honest an’ decent a man as any in this crowd, ef I do say it, that shouldn’t.”