"I'll do my best, though I don't know much about his affairs," said the stout sailor. "But come on in. I'd like to talk to you."
Nat felt a little strange at meeting one who had known his father so intimately.
But George Clayton was not one to let one feel sad for very long. When they were in his room at the hotel, drinking lemonade, for the day was hot, he told Nat all he knew about his father's last voyage.
"And so you're learning to be a pilot," he said to Nat at the close. "I thought your father was going to set you up in some business. He was afraid you would meet with some accident if you followed the same calling he did."
"Set him up in business? What do you mean?" asked Mr. Weatherby.
"Well, I don't know exactly what business, but I know Jim—I always called your father Jim," he explained to Nat—"I know Jim was talking what he was going to do with the profits of the load of lumber—I mean his share."
"Did Mr. Morton have a share in the load of lumber on the barge from which he was drowned?" asked the pilot.
"Of course. Didn't you know that? Didn't you get his share when he died?" he asked of the boy.
"I got nothing. Father left nothing, as far as I know."
"Why, he certainly left something," insisted Mr. Clayton. "We all got our share out of it, and I always supposed his went to his heirs. You're the only one, I understand."