“He is not a desirable character then?” said the captain.
“I wouldn’t say that,” said Jack. “We thought he was influenced by bad companions. But at any rate he had no liking for us. Is he going to get better?”
“I think so. See, he is opening his eyes.”
Thurman’s face, under the influence of the restoratives, had become suffused by a faint flush of color. He looked wildly about him. As his gaze rested first on Jack and then on Raynor he looked like a sleeper newly awakened from a night-mare.
“Gracious, am I dreaming?” he gasped.
“No, my lad,” said the captain, “but you had a close call from going into a sleep from which you never would have awakened.”
“But Ready and Raynor! What are they doing here?”
“Oh, we’re solid enough. Nothing ghostly about us,” Jack assured him, extending his hand. “Congratulations on your narrow escape from death, and—and we’ll let bygones be bygones.”
“I never meant to be really bad,” said Thurman weakly.
“Say no more about it,” advised Billy. “But tell us how you came to be adrift in such a fearful storm in that dinky little boat.”