Though full bearded, with black hair like a lion's mane, there remained that wonderful aquiline nose and powerful jaw and chin of Fighting Howard Byng. From where he sat he slowly reached up a broad, generous, strong hand.
Little Jim thought the emotion he showed was in recognition of the service I had rendered him. But as our eyes met we both understood—to little Jim his name should remain Canby—sponge diver, merchant and Gulf trader.
"Little Jim, your eyes are good and so is your aim. You watch what is going on over there while I have a talk with your father." Then I explained to her that the cook was commissioned to feed them food from his hand, as their own hands were serving another purpose just then.
Without hesitation she took her rifle and sat down in the stern, letting her legs hang over—the same picture as when I first saw her sitting on the wharf waiting for the tide to uncover the bull alligator.
Howard Byng sat there devouring me with his eyes, recollections rushing through his mind. I seated myself beside him. He seemed to want me close to him.
"I was sure I would see you again, but I never pictured it this way," said he, turning his face toward me. "I would have drowned if you and little Jim hadn't come; the cannon shot put me out—it is a terrible shock under water."
"An active life has many surprises," I answered slowly.
"You've been at it all the time! I would rather be able to do what you have done to-day than to have all the money in the world. I recall what you told me the last time I saw you. That mere business—mere money would not satisfy. I could not see it then."
"You have made headway. Starting with nothing, not even a name," I said, so low that little Jim couldn't hear.