ay be still alive."

"Did he own several small herring boats, and have a share in a
curing-house, before he went a-whaling?"

"Yes," Jack said, growing more and more wondering and excited by these
questions.

"Look here, youngster. When I was a boy, eleven years ago, I was
working on a whaleship, and your father was aboard. His name was John
Harrison, hailing from Yarmouth."

"Oh!" Jack said. "Where is he--do you know?"

"No, my lad; let us hope his soul is gone aloft, but his body is lost.
We had dragged our boat across a field of ice for some miles, on the
look-out for our ship, which we had left, stored with provisions, in
open water. We were pretty near starving, for we had missed the track,
and the men said they would not go on another step. But your father,
boy, had a brave heart, such as I never saw before or since; and he
said, if those that were too chicken-hearted to go on, would stay where
they were for a few hours, he would go ahead and find the ship, as he
knew perfectly well we were near it, and near a village of the folk
they call Esquimaux. One youngster, just such another as you, said,
'I'm your man, captain'; and they set off with a good heart. We that
were left turned our boat bottom upwards, and a sorry set we were,
frost-bitten and starving. We huddled together to keep each other
warm--warm! why, I am cold now when I think of it; and look here, I
lost a finger and the end of a thumb that same time."

"How?" Jack asked.

"How? Frost-bitten, of course. Well, those two that left us never
came back, and never were seen again. We waited till we were so weak
we could scarce crawl, and then two of us--for three of the fellows
died--made our way back, and found a ship which took us aboard; but
never a word of your father and the young 'un from that day."

"My father!" said Jack. "Are you sure?"

"Well, I am as sure as I can be of anything. I was rummaging in my
locker t' other day, after we had picked you and old Colley up, and I
knew your name, and I found an old handkerchief that belonged to John
Harrison, and I'll proceed to produce it, lad."

The mate then dragged from the depths of the locker a torn and ragged
red handkerchief, with yellow spots, and in the corner in white letters
was marked with thread, "J. H."

"Yes, boy, there's the article, and your father gave it to me to tie up
my leg, which had a bad wound. He was uncommon loth to part with it,
but there never was a m