The captain excused himself and went on deck, and a little later, having finished his unpacking, the younger man followed him.

The one person on whom his thoughts were centered was still invisible, and Drew had ample time to watch the busy scene upon the schooner's deck. The members 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 circ.u.mstance 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 Captain Hamilton, who had likewise leaped from the taffrail to the pier.

"Didn't expect to see me, eh?" queried Tyke, while the ambulance men stood by, grinning.

"No, I didn't," roared Captain Hamilton, gripping him by one hand while Drew held the other. "But I can't tell you how glad I am that you made up your mind to come."

"We might have known you'd get here if you had to walk on your hands,"

cried Drew jubilantly.

"Had to fight like the mischief to get them doctors to let me come,"

chortled Tyke, evidently delighted by the warmth of the greeting.

"They told me I was jest plumb crazy to think of it. But after Allen, here, left me last night I got so lonesome an' restless there was no holding me. Seemed like I'd go wild if I'd had to stay in that sick-bay while you fellers were sniffing the sea air. So I jest reared up on my hind legs, as you might say, an' they had to let me come."

"And you got here just in the nick of time," said the captain. "Ten minutes more and we'd have been slipping down the river."

Carefully supporting him on either side, for he found the unaccustomed crutches awkward, Captain Hamilton and Drew helped him on board the vessel and seated him comfortably in a deck chair.

Tyke drew in great draughts of the salt-laden air and his eyes glistened as he scrutinized the lines and spars of the schooner, noting her beauties with the expert eye of the sailor.

"Great little craft," he said approvingly. "I wouldn't have missed sailing on her for the world. A cruise in a tidy schooner like this will do me more good than them blamed doctors could if they fiddled around me for a year."

"How is your leg feeling now?" asked Drew solicitously.

"Better already," grinned Tyke. "In less'n a week I'll be chucking these crutches overboard. See if I don't."

Suddenly Tyke fell silent. Drew turned swiftly and saw that the old man was staring under bent brows at the mate of the schooner.

"Who's that?" Tyke finally demanded.

"That's Ditty--my mate," said Captain Hamilton. "I told you he was no handsome dog, didn't I?"

"Ugh!" grunted Tyke, and said no more.

Before Drew could ask the question that was on the tip of his tongue, a musical voice at his elbow said:

"Good morning, Mr. Drew."

He was on his feet in a flash, holding out his hand in eager greeting.

"I was wondering when I was going to see you!" he exclaimed.

"You'll probably see too much of me before this voyage is over," Ruth said demurely. "I expect you men will be frightfully bored with one lone woman hovering around all the time."

Drew's eyes were eloquent with denial.

"Impossible!" he said emphatically. Then he became conscious that Tyke was looking on with some curiosity.

"Oh, I forgot," he said. "Mr. Grimshaw, this is Miss Hamilton, Captain Hamilton's daughter. Miss Hamilton, this is Captain Grimshaw."

Ruth held out her hand, but Tyke deliberately drew her to him and kissed her on the cheek. She extricated herself blushingly.

"An old man's privilege, my dear," said Tyke placidly. "An' I've known your father going on thirty years."

Drew wished that it were a young man's privilege as well.

"So you're Rufus Hamilton's daughter," went on Tyke. "My, my! An'

pooty as a picture, too."

Ruth flushed a little at so open a compliment, but smiled at Grimshaw and said brightly:

"I'm so glad you can come with us. I was dreadfully sorry to hear of your accident. It would have been horrid for you to stay cooped up in that old hospital. Father has told me how much you had counted on the trip."

"The old craft isn't a derelict jest yet," replied Tyke complacently.

"I'm afraid I'll be something of a nuisance till I get steady on my pins again, but I'll try not to be too much in the way."

"We'll all be glad to wait on you, I'm sure," protested Ruth, with another smile that won Grimshaw completely.

"I'll go down now and see how Wah Lee is getting along with breakfast,"

the girl continued. "I've no doubt you folks will be hungry enough to do justice to it."

"This air would give an appet.i.te to a mummy," declared Drew.

"I'm some sharp set myself," admitted Tyke, as the fragrance of steaming coffee was wafted to him from the cook's galley. "Jest the very thought of eating in a ship's cabin again makes me hungry."

Drew's eyes followed the girl as she disappeared down the companionway, and when he looked up it was to find Tyke regarding him amusedly.

"So that's the way the wind blows, is it?" the old man chuckled.