"Flag, at sea, July, 18---.
"Dear Commander,
"I accept your apology, and forgive the joke which I enjoyed, I
believe, more than you did, having discovered Master Jocko's identity
from the first moment when he took his Turkish fez off to salute me in
the cabin, on my entering--you young rascal! I would not have missed
for a hundred pounds the agony you were in all the time you were
sitting at my table, and, I really think, I had the best of the joke!
"Come and breakfast with me and I will tell you the reason _why I
address you as_ above--I suppose he never told you, but your father
was one of my dearest friends.
"Yours, with best compliments to `Senor Carrambo,'
"Anson."
"By George, Tom," said I when we had both perused this letter, "you are
in luck! He doesn't call you _Commander_ for nothing!"
"No, I suppose not," said he, "at all events, Gerald, he's a trump! I
recollect my old father saying something once about asking him to put in
a good word for me; but, I daresay he forgot all about it: but I am none
the worse for it now, eh?"
"No," said I, "thanks to Jocko!"
The next day Tom Finch had his commission made out by the admiral's
secretary as commander of the _Blanche_, while I was promoted to his
place in the _Porpoise_, owing to the good word he put in for me when he
breakfasted with the jolly old chief; and we both of us were busy enough
the next few months on the station, protecting British interests and
stopping would-be privateers from having such a festive time as they
expected during the period that hostilities lasted between the two rival
South American republics at the time of which I speak; then wars between
Chili and Peru, and the rest of these very independent states, being of
as periodic occurrence of the yellow fever in the Gulf of Mexico!
Poor Jocko, as I hinted at before, came finally to grief in a very sad
way.
We were chasing a suspicious looking blockade-runner, a short time after
he had his remarkable invitation to dine with the admiral; our engines
were moving a little more rapidly than usual; and, Jocko, who was
perched on the skylight above, was looking at them with the most intense
interest.
All at once, the platform on which he was resting slipped, and the
talented monkey fell into the engine-room, in the midst of the
machinery--there was one sharp agonised squeak, and the last page of
poor Jocko's history was marked with the word _Finis_.