Fred Sanders may have assented to this, but he was silent, and he, too, looked off over the sea as if his thoughts were running in a new and unaccustomed channel. “My mother must be a very old woman by this time,” added the captain, after a minute or more of silence, during which nothing but the rushing of the water was heard.
“How old is she?” asked Fred.
“She must be close on to eighty; and I think she’s dead, for she was very feeble when I saw her, three years ago, in San Francisco. But I’m going to see her very soon; yes, very soon––very soon.”
“It’s a long way to ’Frisco,” ventured Fred, mildly; “but I hope you will have a quick voyage.”
“I am not going to wait till we get there.”
“How are you going to manage it, then?”
“This way. I’m coming, mother!”
And Captain Jack Bergen sprang overboard and went out of sight.
“Heavens! what was that?” exclaimed Mate Storms, leaping forward from where he had been dozing upon his couch.
“The captain has jumped overboard!” was the horrified 221 reply of Fred Sanders, who was bringing the proa around as fast as he could.