father had. Why the mate should have a pocketbook, with some other
name on it than his own, I can't explain. But we'll let matters lie
quietly for a while. If you see or hear anything more out of the
ordinary, let me know."

"I will," promised Nat; and then he had to go to do some work in the
captain's office.

"I think you will bear watching, Mr. Bumstead," murmured the pilot, as
he went back to take the wheel. "I don't like your ways, and I'm going
to keep my eye on you."

On his part the mate, after the visit of Nat and Mr. Weatherby, was in
a somewhat anxious mood.

"I wish that boy had never come aboard," he mused. "I might have known
he would make trouble. I must be more careful. If I had only been a
few hours sooner my nephew would have had the place, and I would not
have to worry. Never mind. I may be able to get him here yet, but I
must first get Nat out of the way. He is too suspicious, and that
sneaking pilot is helping him. Still, they know nothing of the case,
nor how I got the wallet, and I'll not give it up without a fight. I
must hide that pocketbook, though. Lucky I got the name off, or I'd be
in a pretty pickle. If I had known he was Jim Morton's son I would
almost have given up my place, rather than be on the same boat with
him. But it's too late now."

He placed the wallet in a secret drawer in his safe, and then went on
with his work, but it seemed that his attention was distracted, and
several times he found himself staring out of his cabin window at
nothing at all.

Nat tried to follow the pilot's advice, and give no more thought to
the memento of his father which he had so unexpectedly discovered, but
it was hard work.

For the next few days he was kept very busy. Captain Marshall found
plenty of tasks for him, and, with running errands for the commander
and the two mates, attending to what the purser had for him to do, and
rendering occasional services for the pilot, the lad found himself
continually occupied.

He was learning more about ships than he ever knew before, and on one
or two occasions Mr. Weatherby took him into the pilot-house, and gave
him preliminary instructions in the exacting calling of steering big
vessels.

The freighter had stopped at several ports, taking on cargo at some,
and discharging it at others. All this made work for Nat, but he liked
it, for he was earning more than he had ever received before.

"Nat," said Mr. Dunn, one day, "I wish you would go down