The Skipper caught the firm brown hand in both of his, and clung to it tightly, and Dot began kissing her father with all her might. As soon as he could extricate himself, the Captain smiled and wiped his wet face, for Dot had been leaving little dewy tears all over it. Then he hailed the big sailor, who was out of sight among the trees.
"Ay, ay, sir!" came in a cheery roar, and the next minute he came into sight, trotting along at double quick march, and making the dry sand fly like smoke.
"Those ship's stores will be wanted to-day," said the Captain sharply; and he strode off into the fir-wood, with Dot in his arms, leaving his son to follow.
The Skipper turned his back again, so that the sailor should not see the trouble in his face, but he looked round in wonder, for there was a strange scuffling noise, the low whistling of the old tune "Jack Robinson," and there was the big sailor, with his arms swung across his breast, and the parcels dangling on the wrong side, going through the steps of the sailor's hornpipe, as if he were made of indiarubber; and kicking up the dust more than ever.
"There was the big sailor going through the steps of the sailor's hornpipe."
"Hooroar! Master Bob," he whispered huskily. "It's all right agen. Come on and let's get the ship, and I'll help you to hyste the tackle aboard as soon as we get up to the house."
CHAPTER III.
