“Finely spoken, sir, and like a man!” exclaimed Captain Briggs, with sudden joy and hope. “I knew you’d come to it. You’re sound at heart, boy—sound as old oak. You’re a Briggs, after all!”
“When do I have to make this apology?” asked Hal, with a searching look. “Not right away?”
“No. I’m going to pay the money this afternoon. In a day or two you can go aboard the schooner—”
“The schooner? You mean I’ve got to see him there?”
“Well, yes. You see, he insists on the apology where the assault was done. You’re to give it in front of all the crew. I know that’ll be hard sailing, against stiff winds of pride, but you’ll come through. You’ll prove yourself a man, for your own sake as well as Laura’s and mine, won’t you?”
Hal’s fists were clenched tight as he answered:
“Yes, of course. I’ll go through.” His eyes were the eyes of murder, but the old captain saw only his boy coming back to him again, dutiful and ready for a new start in life. “I’ll do it, sir. Count on me!”
“Your hand, sir!”
The captain’s hand met his grandson’s in a grip that, on one side, was all confidence and love; on the other, abysmal treachery and wickedness. Hal said as the grasp loosened:
“I’m asking only one little favor of you.”