"You must not think of it in that way."
"Why not, please?" Miss Howland was a straightforward girl who faced a situation squarely.
"Why, because the debt is all on my side. Your father has given me my first command; and you—you have been fine to me. I have had more than an ordinary sailor deserves."
"But you are not an ordinary sailor," said the girl quickly. "Father knows of your people—" She paused. "Oh, I beg your pardon," she cried.
"Listen," said Dan, quietly. "When I was younger, about to enter college, a careless, happy life ended. I began all over again then. I date everything from that beginning—from the time I went aboard a tug-boat—the Lord knows why—and tried to do something. What I have done, what I shall do, dating from that time, I stand on. Before that my battles were fought for me. After that the fight was my own. And I have never regretted one bit of it; nor am I ashamed of one single minute from the time I slung hawsers on the Hydrographer until I commanded the Fledgling. And I shall always rejoice, and my friends must rejoice, in that part of the fight, and never seek to hide a single incident. It's all behind now, but it was worth while. And a man must go on—"
"Yes, I know," replied the girl, softly. She turned her face from the silvery path on the water.
"And you are not going to stop fighting. Oh, you will not stop! You will go on and on. Men like you never stand still. I know it is the truth. What difference can your past life make to your friends? It is never what a man was or might have been that counts, or what he may be; it is what he is."
And then she turned and left him.
One evening as the dark came creeping over the purple waters, the Tampico cluttered up to the mouth of the harbor of San Blanco City. Captain Merrithew and Mr. Howland stood on the bridge, while Virginia and most of her guests were assembled at the rail, all eyes straining shoreward. A rattle of musketry tore through the evening air—a muzzle-loading cannon spoke grouchily; then all was still. A sailboat was drifting out to sea and the fishermen, being hailed, informed those on the steamship that revolutionists were pounding at the city walls and pounding hard, but thus far without avail. The uprising, as usual, they said, had its inception in the fastnesses of Monte-Cristi and, spreading through the country, had brought up with a bang against the walls of the city itself.
Mr. Howland was seriously perturbed.