on was interrupted by a shift of wind, which compelled me
to issue orders for trimming sails.

The steward then announced luncheon, and I remained some time on deck
after my passengers had gone below.

I had observed Dick, who did not often trouble himself about scenery,
watching the coast with more than usual interest.

"Do you know, captain," he said, coming up to me, "I have a notion that
I have seen this island before. The look of the coast is very like that
we sailed along when I was aboard the _Laurel_, before I picked you up.
I shall be able to tell better when we come off the harbour, for then I
think I should be sure to know the place again. It will be strange if
it should turn out that I am right in my idea, and if so, I would advise
you to make inquiries, and learn if any of the families on shore about
that time lost a little boy in the way you were lost. Maybe, as the
newspapers say, you will hear of something to your advantage; and if you
don't, why you won't be worse off than you are now, and you may be very
sure that as long as Dick Driver lives, you have got a friend who will
stick to you, blow high or blow low."

"I am sure you will, Dick," I answered. "Though perhaps, as many years
have passed by since you were last on these seas, you may be mistaken as
to the island."

Yet, although I said this, I could not help allowing strange hopes and
fears to agitate my bosom. I might discover my parents, or they might
be dead, and their successors might be unwilling to acknowledge a
stranger coming among them. I could scarcely calm myself sufficiently
to go into the cabin. I determined, however, to say nothing about
Dick's remarks, but to try and overcome all the hopes which I found
rising within me. I apologised for being late to luncheon, on the plea
of being detained on deck by duty, and did my best to perform the
honours of the table and try to converse in my usual manner. The ladies
were eager to know when I thought we should get in.

"The wind is so light that I do not expect to enter the harbour till
to-morrow morning," I replied. "I cannot pretend to regret this, as I
know my stay will be very short, and it will defer the time when I must
bid you farewell."

Sophie looked up at me, and a shade of sadness passed over her sweet
countenance. I could not be mistaken. I interpreted her feelings by my
own, and just then I would have given a great deal to have had a proper
excuse for remaini