“That’s a good plan; of course you will see more of the town and the people, than if you remain in your yacht.”
“I am sure I like the cabin of the yacht better than any hotel I ever visited,” laughed Mrs. Kendall.
“But a change will do you good, my dear,” suggested Paul.
“What did you pick up last evening, when you hove to, Mr. Lowington?”
“We picked up a young Norwegian, about sixteen years old,” answered the principal, detailing the circumstances under which Ole had been taken on board.
“Where is he now?” asked Paul, looking about him to obtain a sight of the stranger.
“We clothed and fed him, and had become quite interested in him; but just as the pilot came alongside we missed him. I have had the ship searched for him, but we have not been able to find him, though he must be concealed somewhere on board.”
“That’s strange!” exclaimed Mrs. Kendall, glancing at her husband.
“Perhaps not very strange,” continued the principal. “The boy refused to tell us how he came in an open boat, half full of water, and out of sight of land. Probably he has run away from his friends, and has concealed himself to avoid being recognized by the pilot, or other Norwegian people who may come on board. I judged by his appearance that he had some reason for running away from his master or his friends, for he was only half clothed, in the filthiest rags that ever covered a human being.”
“I should like a Norwegian in my yacht, to act as interpreter for us,” added Paul.