which his son
wrote to him while in the jungles of Sumatra.

The captain was seated in the back office of a Batavian merchant at the
time, smoking a long clay pipe--on the principle, no doubt, that
moderate poisoning is conducive to moderate health!

As he perused the letter, the captain's eyes slowly opened; so did his
mouth, and the clay pipe, falling to the floor, was reduced to little
pieces. But the captain evidently cared nothing for that. He gave
forth a prolonged whistle, got up, smote upon his thigh, and exclaimed
with deep-toned emphasis--

"The rascal!"

Then he sat down again and re-perused the letter, with a variety of
expression on his face that might have recalled the typical April day,
minus the tears.

"The rascal!" he repeated, as he finished the second reading of the
letter and thrust it into his pocket. "I knew there was somethin' i'
the wind wi' that little girl! The memory o' my own young days when I
boarded and captured the poetess is strong upon me yet. I saw it in the
rascal's eye the very first time they met--an' he thinks I'm as blind as
a bat, I'll be bound, with his poetical reef-point-pattering sharpness.
But it's a strange discovery he has made and must be looked into. The
young dog! He gives me orders as if he were the owner."

Jumping up, Captain Roy hurried out into the street. In passing the
outer office he left a message with one of the clerks for his friend the
merchant.

"Tell him," he said, "that I'll attend to that little business about the
bill when I come back. I'm going to sail for the Keeling Islands this
afternoon."

"The Keeling Islands?" exclaimed the clerk in surprise.

"Yes--I've got business to do there. I'll be back, all bein' well, in a
week--more or less."

The clerk's eyebrows remained in a raised position for a few moments,
until he remembered that Captain Roy, being owner of his ship and cargo,
was entitled to do what he pleased with his own and himself. Then they
descended, and he went on with his work, amusing himself with the
thought that the most curious beings in the world were seafaring men.

"Mr Moor," said the captain somewhat excitedly, as he reached the deck
of his vessel, "are all the men aboard?"

"All except Jim Sloper, sir."

"Then send and hunt up Jim Sloper at once, for we sail this afternoon
for the Keeling Islands."

"Very well, sir."

Mr Moor was a phlegmatic man; a self-contained and a reticent man. If
Captain Ro