“How do you know his name is Vose?” I asked, my voice trembling a little, for the old mystery of my father’s disappearance had swept in upon my soul again and I was shaken to the depths.
“Wal! I swear now! I never thought of that. I s’pose he might never have told me his real name,” said Tugg.
The whole story took hold of me as it had when Tom Anderly told me of the man that had been picked up by the coaster, Sally Smith, off Bolderhead Neck some fourteen or fifteen years before. Tom had said nothing about the man looking like me; but of course, Tom didn’t know the man long—only until the coaster reached New York City. And his name had been Carver—or so the Unknown had said. This Captain Tugg had been partners with the man he called the Professor for twelve years. Long enough to know his peculiarities and to recognize in my build, and in the tones of my voice, things that reminded him strongly of his partner.
And I had been told, often enough, that I had my father’s stature and his very tone of voice and manner of speaking!
But hold on! there was another way to make connection between the flying strands of this seemingly absurd story. I turned to Captain Tugg calmly.
“By the way, sir,” I said, “do you ever run around to Santiago?”
“Valparaiso, you mean, son?” he returned. “That’s the seaport.”
“I mean Santiago, Chili.”
“Why, pshaw! I have been to the capital once—three or four years ago.”
“What for, sir—if I’m not too curious? You see, I’ve a reason for asking,” I said.