the old man turned and
went with him.

They walked back slowly towards the harbor, the young man talking, the
old man listening. Outside the post office the skipper came to a sudden
stop.

"How would it be to send a wire?" he asked.

"I think," said the old man eagerly, as he followed him in, "it would be
the very thing."

He stood watching attentively as the skipper tore up form after form,
meditatively sucking the chained lead pencil with a view to inspiration
between whiles. Captain Gething, as an illiterate, had every sympathy
with one involved in the throes of writing, and for some time watched
his efforts in respectful silence. After the fifth form had rolled a
little crumpled ball on to the floor, however, he interposed.

"I can't think how to put it," said the skipper apologetically. "I don't
want to be too sudden, you know."

"Just so," said the other, and stood watching him until, with a smile
of triumph twitching the corners of his mouth, the skipper bent down and
hastily scrawled off a message.

"You've done it?" he said with relief.

"How does this strike you?" asked the skipper reading. "Your father
sends love to you both."

"Beautiful," murmured Captain Gething.

"Not too sudden," said the skipper; "it doesn't say I've found you, or
anything of that sort; only hints at it. I'm proud of it."

"You ought to be," said Captain Gething, who was in the mood to be
pleased with anything. "Lord, how pleased they'll be, poor dears! I'm
ashamed to face 'em."

"Stuff!" said the skipper, who was in high spirits, as he clapped him on
the back. "What you want is a good stiff drink."

He led him into a neighboring bar, and a little later the crew of the
schooner, who had been casting anxious and curious glances up the quay,
saw the couple approaching them. Both captains were smoking big cigars
in honor of the occasion, and Captain Gething, before going on board,
halted, and in warm terms noticed the appearance of the _Seamew_.

The crew, pausing in their labors, looked on expectantly as they reached
the deck. On the cook's face was a benevolent and proprietary smile,
while Henry concealed his anguish of soul under an appearance of stoic
calm.

"This is the man," said the skipper, putting his hand on the cook's
shoulder, "this is the man that found you, cap'n. Smartest and best chap
I ever had sail with me!"

Flushed with these praises, but feeling that he fully deserved them, the
cook took the hand