"But I tell you, I saw my father looking out of that bull's-eye," insisted Bob.
"Your father?" exclaimed the doctor, opening his eyes in amazement.
"Yes, sir, my father. And, Ben, he was crazy. I never saw him look so at me in his life."
"He saw his grandmother," interrupted Ben. "The boy is crazy himself, and that is what's the matter with him. His father has been under hatches for five years and better. Get aboard, doctor. Now," he added, turning almost fiercely upon Bob, "not another word out of you about what you saw if you want to keep on the right side of me. Mind that. Up you go."
Bob made the best of his way to the deck and looked about him. Then he was certain he knew the ship. She was the Boston, and she had once belonged to his father. More than that, his father was aboard of her at that very moment, for he had seen him with his own eyes.
"Well, boy, what are you staring at?" demanded the captain. "Did you never see a ship before? Turn to at once, for we don't allow idlers here. Doctor, go into the galley and lend a hand there. What's your name, you graybeard?"
"Smith, sir," replied Ben.
"Well, Smith, you will find work enough with this chaffing-gear to keep you busy the rest of the day. And you, boy—"
"On deck, there!" shouted a voice from aloft.
"Fore-top," replied the captain.