of the crew were hurrying about in obedience to
shouted orders, stowing away the last boxes and provisions that had
come on board.

The sails were in stops ready to be broken out when the vessel should
be out in the stream. A snorting tug was nosing her way alongside. A
slight mist that had rested on the surface of the water was being
rapidly dissipated by the freshening breeze, and over the Long Island
horizon the sun was coming up, red and resplendent.

Drew made his way along the deck until he came near the foremast, where
the mate was standing, bawling orders to the men. He was a tall, spare
man, and in his voice there was a ring of authority, not to say
truculence, that boded ill for any man who did not jump when spoken to.
His back was toward Drew, but there was something about the figure that
seemed familiar.

While he was wondering why this was so, the man turned, and, with
amazement, Drew saw that the mate of the _Bertha Hamilton_ was the
one-eyed man with whom he had had his unpleasant encounter upon the
Jones Lane wharf.

There was a flash of recognition and plenty of insolence in that one
eye as it was turned upon Drew, but the next moment the man had turned
his back and was again bellowing at the sailors.

Drew had a feeling of discomfort. He knew from the look the mate had
given him that he still cherished malice. It was unpleasant to have a
discordant note struck at the very outset of the voyage. And then,
there was the suspicious circumstance of Grimshaw's accident. A
one-eyed seaman had figured in that. Should he go to Captain Hamilton
and report his vague suspicions of this fellow?

He had no time to pursue the thought, however, for at that moment he
heard the clang of a gong, and an ambulance came dashing out on the
pier just as the moorings of the _Bertha Hamilton_ were about to be
cast off.

Drew's first thought was that an accident had happened, and he hurried
over to the starboard rail. The ambulance had stopped, and two
white-clad attendants were helping out a man who had been reclining on
a mattress within. They stood him on one foot while they slipped a
pair of crutches under his arms. The man lifted his head, and, with a
yell of delight, Drew leaped to the wharf.

It was Tyke Grimshaw! Pale and haggard the old man looked, but his
indomitable spirit was still in evidence and his eyes twinkled with the
old whimsical smile.

"Hurrah!" yelled Drew.

The cry was echoed by