This had its good effect upon Mrs. Trevor, who began to kiss and soothe her.
"Hush, hush, my darling," she cried. "You must not cry, but help poor Mamma to try and bear it. You must help me to pray to God to watch over him and bring him back safely to us from that dreadful place."
These words unlocked the Skipper's silent tongue.
"What dreadful place?" he cried excitedly.
"Africa, my boy—the Gold Coast—the White Man's——"
Mrs. Trevor shuddered, and checked herself.
"Gone!" cried the boy again, with the feeling strong upon him that his father was still angry and had not forgiven him. And he had gone without a word. He had kissed Dot and her mother, but only just pressed his hand.
"Gone!" he said again.
"Yes, my boy," sobbed Mrs. Trevor. "But he is a sailor, and it is his duty to serve his country and his Queen. You, my boy, must——"
The poor Skipper heard no more. With a bitter cry he rushed out of the room, through the hall, and then along the path toward the swing gate, hatless and desperate.