He was of medium size and perfectly rounded form, too refined in his appearance to be masculine, but none the less active and efficient; and I must say that his face was the most handsome, and the most expressive of the finer emotions of the soul, I had ever met with in man. We were the most congenial of associates, and I was more attached to his personality than I had ever before been to one of my own sex. Though young and beardless, his intellect was mature beyond his years, and by common consent the old and experienced soon came to honor his unusually remarkable judgment.
To me, he was a phenomenon that I was utterly unable to fathom. While he was not shy, he was always reserved and retiring. He never intruded where he had no business except in my cabin, where he often came to while away an hour discussing themes of lofty and far reaching import. He seemed not to live on the common plane of ordinary life, but soared far above it. Still he attended to all his duties in a prompt and energetic manner, often lending a helping hand to others when there was no necessity for him to move a muscle. He seemed to take real pleasure in lightening the burdens of others even at a sacrifice of his own comfort.
Such was Jack Adams, who had worked himself up from the most menial employments on shipboard to a position of responsibility. Such was my most valued friend, always reserved and reticent with others, but genial, sociable and confidential with me, notwithstanding the disparity in our ages. But why should he now be intruding upon my memory, and holding my thoughts to himself by a mystic chord which I had no power to break, much as I had striven to do so?
I had left the sea at the close of this voyage, the memory of which had haunted me all day. I had scarcely thought of Jack Adams for years, and now I found it impossible to keep from thinking of him all the time. I became almost superstitious, and began to speculate that perhaps he had just passed from earth, and that his spirit was now with me trying to force a recognition. As I was thus ruminating, my office boy announced that a gentleman wanted to see me.
I was just about to send back the word "Not in," when behind the boy, through the half open door, I beheld a tall, handsome and elegantly dressed man, of commanding personal appearance.
My rule had been never to permit anyone to enter my private apartments except on my personal invitation, and as the boy seemed entirely unconscious of his presence, I knew that some mistake had been made, and instinctively felt that the man was not an intruder; so all that remained for me was to recognize the requirements of common politeness and invite him in.
As he entered the room I mentally took his photograph. He was tall, symmetrical, powerful, with a high intellectual forehead, dark, deep-set eyes, dark hair and whiskers, and dark complexion. His countenance was very impressive, inspiring the beholder with a feeling of respect and confidence. As the door closed behind him he fixed his large, penetrating eyes upon me as if he were reading my inmost thoughts, and after a moment's scrutiny said: "Have I the honor of addressing Dr. Thomas H. Day, who was a surgeon some years ago on a vessel engaged in the East India Trade?"
"Yes," I replied, "that is my name, and I was surgeon on an East Indiaman."
"Then," he continued, "may I further ask if you remember a young man on the vessel in the capacity of super-cargo, who greatly trusted and confided in you?"
His words penetrated my inmost being like a shock and I exclaimed impulsively: