This was no other than George Jernam, the captain of the "Albatross," and the owner of the "Stormy Petrel" and "Pizarro."
In London the captain of the "Albatross" found plenty of business to occupy him. He had just returned from an African cruise, and though he had not forgotten the circumstances which had made his last intended visit to England only a memorable and melancholy failure, he was in high spirits.
The first few days hardly sufficed for the talks between George Jernam and Joyce Harker, who aided him vigorously in the refitting of his vessel. He had been in London about a week before he fell in with honest Joe Duncombe. The two men had been fast friends ever since the day on which George, while still a youngster, had served as second-mate under the owner of the "Vixen."
They met accidentally in one of the streets about Wapping. Joseph Buncombe was delighted to encounter a sea-faring friend, and insisted on taking George Jernam down to River View Cottage to eat what he called a homely bit of dinner.
The homely bit of dinner turned out to be a very excellent repast; for Mrs. Mugby prided herself upon her powers as a cook and housekeeper, and to produce a good dinner at a short notice was a triumph she much enjoyed.
Susan Trott waited at table in her prettiest cotton gown and smartest cap.
Rosamond Duncombe sat by her father's side during the meal; and after dinner, when the curtains were drawn, and the lamp lighted, the captain of the "Vixen" set himself to brew a jorum of punch in a large old Japanese china bowl, the composition of which punch was his strong point.
Altogether that little dinner and cheerful evening entertainment seemed the perfection of home comfort. George Jernam had been too long a stranger to home and home pleasures not to feel the cheerful influence of that hospitable abode.
For Joseph Duncombe the companionship of his old friend was delightful. The society of the sailor was as invigorating to the nostrils of a seaman as the fresh breeze of ocean after a long residence inland.
"You don't know what a treat it is to me to have an old shipmate with me once more, George," he said. "My little Rosy and I live here pretty comfortably, though I keep a tight hand over her, I can tell you," he added, with pretended severity; "but it's dull work for a man who has lived the best part of his life on the sea to find himself amongst a pack of spooney landsmen. Never you marry a landsman, Rosy, if you don't want me to cut you off with a shilling," he cried, turning to his daughter.