“What, Halcott,” cried Tandy’s cheerful voice, “up already! and—and—why, Halcott, old man, there is moisture in your eyes!”
“I—I was thinking of home, and—well, I was thinking of my dog.”
“And your Doris. Heigho! I have no Doris, no beautiful face to welcome me home. But look yonder,” he added, taking Halcott’s arm.
Little Nelda stood at the top of the companion-way, the sunlight playing on her yellow hair, one hand held up to screen her face, delicate, pink, yet so shyly sweet, and her blue eyes brimful of happiness.
Just one look she gave, then, with arms outstretched, rushed gleefully towards her father. Next moment she was poised upon his shoulder, and Tandy had forgotten that there was any such thing as danger or sorrow in the world.
The two men walked and talked together now for quite an hour. Indeed, there was very much to talk about, for although they had made the island at last, they had no idea as yet how they should set about looking for the gold which they were certain existed there.
They had not made up their minds as to what they should do, when Janeira rang the bell for breakfast, and with Fitz was seen staggering aft with the covered dish.
“Jane, you look happier than ever this morning. What is the matter? Has some beautiful bird brought you a letter from home?”
“De bootiful bird, sah, is Lawd Fitzmantle, and see, sah, dat is de letter from home.”
She lifted the dish cover as she spoke. Beautiful broiled fish caught only that morning over the stern, but oh, the delicious odour would have revived the heart of a dying epicure!