That night Darry played for the men, but they could not help noticing that much of his music was along the sad order.
In the morning the sky was still overcast, and the sound lay in a bank of half darkness that looked like fog, though the whistling wind seemed to forbid such a thing.
Abner was a little dubious about letting the boy depart, but Darry laughed at the idea of any harm befalling him.
He had several things he wished to attend to, and besides, Mrs. Peake would need him through the day in many ways.
He entered his boat and took up the oars for a hard row, for the wind was of too deceptive a character to allow him to make use of his sail.
The men of the station had come down to see him off, for by this time Darry had won his way into the hearts of every rough fellow, and they looked upon him as a sort of general ward of the crew, pulled out of the sea at their door and destined for great things.
Not one of them but who believed a bright future awaited Peake's new boy, and many were the predictions made among them, some even venturing the assertion that he would be president yet.
So they waved their sou'westers and shouted a merry good-bye to him as he rowed into the gray blanket of mist that shrouded the sound.