"I think I know your brother," were his first words. They were not the result of deliberate choice. Some new and strange power seemed to have taken complete possession of him.
"You've met my brother Jack?"
"Yes. We were aboard the same craft pretty near two years. We used to call him Klondyke."
A delightful laugh rang in his ears.
"What a perfect name for him! I must tell that to my mother. It was because he had been in the Klondyke, I suppose."
"Yes, that was it. He had been in the Klondyke. He used to yarn about it on the Margaret Carey. We were both berthed for'ard in the half-deck. His bunk was under mine."
"Isn't it odd that we should meet like this!"
"Yes, it's queer. But there are many queer things in the world, ain't there? At least I've seen a goodish few and so has Klondyke. But he was a grand chap."
Mary Pridmore, who felt rather the same about her brother Jack, although he was not a brother to be proud of, but quite the reverse, as the members of his family always made a point of explaining to him whenever they had the chance, was somehow touched by the tone of reverence with which his shipmate spoke of him.
"He's the black sheep of the family, of course you know that," she said, feeling it necessary to take precautions against this delightful young sailorman who had already intrigued her.