CHAPTER XXVII
FRED SANDERS
Captain Bergen was so affected by the joyful awakening to the fact that his long, dismal sojourn on the lonely island in the Pacific had reached the end at last, and by the belief that now he would be carried as rapidly as wind and sail could take him to his beloved New England again, that his mind was unsettled and he behaved in a way that pained, as much as it astonished, his companion.
Inasmuch as such was the fact, Mr. Storms hoped that it would be accepted as an explanation of the strange utterances in which he had indulged, for he believed that the cupidity of the young man had already been excited, and a most unfortunate complication threatened.
“You will excuse the excitement of my friend,” said he to Sanders, “though mine is nearly as great; but he had almost settled into the belief that we were doomed to perish in this desolate spot, and the reaction 187 caused by your joyous tidings is too much for him.”
“Oh, that’s all right!” was the cheery response. “I understand how that is. But, begging pardon, I believe you have another companion?”
Fred looked so earnestly at the figure of Inez Hawthorne, standing a short distance off, that his meaning could not be mistaken.
“It is I who should beg your pardon,” said Storms, in turn, beckoning to Inez to approach; “but we were so much interested in you that we forgot her for the time.”
While the girl was approaching the group, Captain Bergen turned about, and without a word, walked slowly away in the direction of the cabin, his manner showing still more clearly than ever that his mind was unbalanced––a fact which caused Storms great discomfort. Aside from his love for the good, honest man, he saw that he had already imperiled, and was likely still further to imperil, their great possessions by his rambling, and yet significant, talk.