"It's something I want to tell you, sir," and Max hung his head, his cheeks flushing hotly.
His father gave him a searching look, took his hand, and led him into the parlor.
"Don't be afraid of your father, Max," he said kindly, "why should you?"
"Because I've been a bad boy, sir, deserving of a flogging, and expect you to give it to me," Max burst out desperately.
"Tell me all about it, my son," the captain said in a moved tone, "and tell it here," seating himself and drawing the boy to his knee. "Perhaps it will be easier."
"Oh, yes, papa, because it makes me know you love me even if I am bad; but it makes me more ashamed and sorry for having disobeyed you," sobbed Max, no longer able to refrain from tears as he felt the affectionate clasp of his father's enfolding arm.
"Then it has a right effect. My boy, I think if you knew how much I love you, you would never disobey. It will be a sore trial to me, as well as to you, if I find it my duty to inflict any severe punishment upon you. But let me hear your story."
Max told it in broken accents, for he was full of remorse for having behaved so ill to so kind a parent.
When he had finished there was a moment of silence. It was the captain who broke it.
"My boy," he said, with emotion, "it was a really wonderful escape, and we must thank God for it. If you had been drowned, Max, do you know that it would have gone near to break your father's heart? To lose my first-born, my only son, and in the very act of disobedience—oh, how terrible!"