The second occupant of the cabin was hidden by the door.
Nelson answered in a queer, weak voice: “Beg pardon, sir. May I speak to my father?”
“Eh? To your father!” The captain’s gaze swept perplexedly from Nelson to the tall, gaunt figure in the chair beside him. “Bless my soul! What—what——”
The man beside him was on his feet, and striding to the door, had thrown it open.
“Bless my soul!” repeated the captain.
“Nelson, boy! Is it you?” cried the stranger.
Nelson’s arms went out and he clung to the tall figure with straining grasp of dirty, oil-stained hands.
“Gee, Dad, I thought you were dead!” he sobbed.
The captain blew his nose loudly, and: “Bless my soul!” he said. “Bless my soul!”