“They are, a little. It may be temporary, but—Our Father directs it all.”
“True, father. I’m so glad of that!”
“Mind the step, we shall have more light on deck. There is a friend there who has just told me he met you on the Cocos-Keeling Island, Nigel Roy;—you start, Winnie?”
“Y–yes, father. I am so surprised, for it is his father who sails this ship! And I cannot imagine how he or you came on board.”
“Well, I was going to say that I believe it is partly through Nigel that you and I have been brought together, but there is mystery about it that I don’t yet understand; much has to be explained, and this assuredly is not the time or place. Here, Nigel, is your old Keeling friend.”
“Ay—friend! humph!” said old Roy softly to himself.
“My dear—child!” said young Roy, paternally, to the girl as he grasped her hand. “I cannot tell you how thankful I am that this has been brought about, and—and that I have had some little hand in it.”
“There’s more than pumice floating about in the sea, sir,” said Mr Moor, coming aft at the moment and speaking to the captain in a low tone. “You’d better send the young lady below—or get some one to take up her attention just now.”
“Here, Nigel. Sit down under the lee of the companion, an’ tell Kathy how this all came about,” said the captain, promptly, as if issuing nautical orders. “I want you here, Van der Kemp.”
So saying, the captain, followed by the hermit, went with the second mate to the place where the flaming tar-barrel was casting a lurid glare upon the troubled sea.