The owner once more fell to mourning.
"How can I show my face anywhere? I am saved and Arthur is lost. Why couldn't it have been the other way?"
"He was takin' the lad abroad for a vacation trip," explained a harsh voice in David's ear. "The sea voyage was for the lad's health, and the old man was coaxed into pryin' himself loose from his business for once. We're sorry it wasn't the swelled-up money-grubbin' swine that went adrift instead of his boy."
Other men of the Restless grunted approval of their comrade's verdict. But David had glimpsed a new side of Mr. Cochran's nature. He would indeed have sacrificed himself to save his son. The truth of it was in his trembling voice, in the very pose of his drooping shoulders. It was hard to believe that this was the father who had fairly dragged his son away from David in the room of the hospital in New York. As Mr. Cochran began to pull himself out of his collapse, he managed to twist around so that he was looking up into David's face, which was in the light thrown by a boat-lantern. For several minutes the father stared at the tanned young seaman, as if bewildered and groping in his memory. Then he burst out with a kind of surprised snarl:
"It's the boy that had no manners or decency, the young cub that made me sick of him. What are you doing here, alive and well, with my son lost and dying out yonder, lost at sea? How can such things be?"
"I helped pick you up at any rate," faltered David, taken all aback. "And I'd gladly stay out here a week to help you find Arthur."
"You safe and well!" repeated Mr. Cochran, "and my Arthur abandoned. It's all a nightmare. It must be that."
His anger veered against Mr. Briggs, and he bombarded him with threats, bribes, and pleadings, until the rockets from the Roanoke soared into the clear night and the yacht's people shouted at the welcome sight. Then Mr. Cochran clutched at a new hope. He declared that he would buy the ship if only he might persuade the captain to search for the lost boat until he found it.
The liner was almost ready to limp on her way when the boat rejoined her. Repairs had been made with better success than Captain Thrasher hoped for. His anxious scrutiny convinced him that, with fair weather, his shattered bow could withstand the sea, and he had determined to proceed very slowly on his course toward New York. He had been in wireless communication with two steamers, one of which stood by until dusk, when the liner sent word that she would not transfer her people. The captain had also told them to look out for the boats from the burning yacht. This news was carried to Mr. Cochran, who feebly tottered forward in breathless haste to find the commander. David saw the bedraggled magnate swaying against the door of the captain's room as he begged: