"'Twould be a waste of time and fuel, and a fool's chase," said Captain Barcus quietly. "There was no way for the lad to go ashore but by the ship's boat, and 'tis plain he didn't go ashore in the boat at any port we stops at to-day. Some one would have seen him if he had, and every man of the crew says he didn't."
"Then he's on the ship somewhere!" shouted Mr. Wise excitedly, springing to his feet. "He's hiding! He's hiding somewhere on the ship!"
"He's not on the ship," said Captain Barcus gravely. "She've been searched from masthead to hold, and he's not on the ship. There's no doubting the poor lad has fallen overboard."
"Do you mean he's been—lost—at—sea?" and the terrified Wise sank limply into a seat.
"Aye," admitted Captain Barcus, "lost at sea."
"Then turn back! Turn back and look for him!" demanded Mr. Wise, again on his feet in a frenzy of excitement. "Why don't you turn back and look for him?"
"Keep your senses, man," admonished Captain Barcus. "As I said before, 'twould be a fool's job to look for him in the sea. No man knows where or when he went overboard. 'Tis likely 'twere hours ago."
Mr. Wise slouched into a seat, and with his elbows upon his knees held his head in his hands for a full minute before he spoke.
"What can I tell his father? What can I tell him? He'll discharge me! He'll think I didn't look after the boy!" and Mr. Wise's dejection was complete. "What can I tell him!"
"Tell him the truth. He'll discharge you likely. I would," said the Captain in blunt disgust.