Nat found Mr. Weatherby quite ill, but, in spite of that, the pilot warmly congratulated his protégé on the nerve he had displayed during the storm.
"You have proved your worth, Nat," said Mr. Weatherby, "and I am proud of my pupil."
Nat turned in for a sleep, soon after breakfast. There was little for the crew of the Mermaid to do while the repairs were being made, and those passengers who were not yet at their destination strolled about the town while waiting for the trip to be resumed.
The vessel that Nat had brought so skilfully through the storm, which had ceased with the first appearance of dawn, was tied at the same dock as that at which was the steamer they had met near the reef. One was on one side, and one on the other, and when the dock between the ships was not occupied by wagons and trucks, laden with freight, Nat could look across and see the crew of the other steamer, the Spray, busily rearranging the cargo that had shifted during the storm. She was a freighter, but smaller than the Jessie Drew.
The appearance of one lad in the crew of the Spray attracted Nat's attention, when the young pilot arose early in the afternoon. The lad had red hair, and his figure seemed familiar.
"If I didn't think he was a good way off from here I'd say that fellow was Sam Shaw," mused Nat. "He looks a good deal like him."
He tried to watch, to determine if it was his former enemy, but, as the lad kept moving to and fro, it was impossible to be certain.
"If I saw Mr. Bumstead I'd know it was Sam who was with him," went on Nat, as he stood at the rail nearest the dock. "It might be possible they transferred to that ship. I wonder if I hadn't better speak to Mr. Weatherby, and ask his advice? No, he's sick, and I don't want to bother him about my affairs. I guess I'll just take a stroll over there and see for myself. Captain Turton won't care, as we can't sail until late this evening."
Nat started down the gangplank, but, when he was half way down, he met a man in uniform, who asked him:
"Is this the Mermaid?"