"Give me the paper," said he, "and let me see what it says."
The paragraph was very brief, and ran thus:—
"It is reported at Lloyd's that the barque Morning Star has been lost in a storm off Cape Horn. Some of the crew, including the chief mate, got ashore; but the captain, Robert Merritt, and the second mate, John Hartland, went down with the ship. The Morning Star was owned at Cardiff, and was making for San Francisco with a general cargo."
Jim read the paragraph over several times. The letters seemed blurred and running into one another; only the words, "the second mate, John Hartland, went down with the ship," stood out clear and distinct, as if raised above the surrounding type.
"There may be a chance yet," suggested Dick, who was hurt by the look of pain on his chum's face. "It isn't certain that your father is drowned."
"No," said Jim absently; "it isn't certain."
Then he put the paper into his pocket and turned to go in.
"Shall I tell my mother to come round?" asked Dick.
"Not to-night—thanks. No, we shall be better by ourselves."
Nodding to Dick, he stepped into the passage and closed the door gently. Then he went quietly to the room where his mother had laid tea. There was nothing of value in the house, for the family had been particularly unfortunate during the last few years. In spite of many obstacles Mr. Hartland had worked his way up to the position of mate, but on his first voyage as an officer had met with an accident which kept him in hospital for months. Then he found it hard to secure another berth, and during the time of his enforced idleness the best of his furniture had been parted with to buy food. Few people knew this, however, as the Hartlands, who were very proud, kept their troubles to themselves.