When we reached the launch the sailors regarded our companion with wonder, and as we drew near the Billowcrest a curious group gathered on the deck forward.
Foremost of these was Captain Biffer. I had never spoken to him of my sailor uncle. My former experiences in that line may have resulted in this delicacy, or it may have been out of consideration for my relative, whose skill as a navigator might have been judged by that of his nephew. Now, however, I ascended proudly to the deck.
“Captain Biffer,” I said, “I want to present to you my uncle, Captain Nicholas Lovejoy.”
With his deflected orb Captain Biffer pierced my innermost being, while with his good eye he searched deeply the soul of the man before him. He tried to speak, but at first his voice failed him. Then he said huskily:
“Captain Nick Lovejoy, don’t you know your old shipmate, Joe Biffer?”
My uncle, too, started and gasped.
“My God, yes!” he said, “it’s Joe—Joe Biffer of Boston!”
A moment later Captain Biffer turned and seized my hand.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” he demanded; “and say, Chase, I’ve learned to like a good many things about you since we’ve been together, but this is the best yet.”
At which Zar, who was standing by, added: