The skipper, who was endeavoring to form new habits, obeyed the summons of the bell. The mate took a healthful walk of three miles, while the crew sat about the deck watching the cook’s preparations for dinner, and occasionally lending him some slight assistance. It was not until the meal was despatched that they arrayed themselves in their Sunday clothes and went ashore.
Dick went first, having thoughtfully provided himself with the photograph which had been lent for the use of all of them. He walked at first into the town, but the bare shuttered shops and deserted streets worked upon his feelings, and with his hands in his pockets, he walked back in the direction of the harbor. Here he got into conversation with an elderly man of sedate aspect, and after a little general talk, beginning with the weather and ending with tobacco, he produced the photograph and broached the subject of Captain Gething.
“Well, I’ve seen a man very much like it,” said his new friend after a prolonged study.
“Where?” asked Dick eagerly.
“I won’t say it’s the same man,” said the other slowly, as he handed the portrait back, “but if it ain’t him it’s his brother.”
“Where?” repeated Dick impatiently.
“Well, I don’t know that I ought to interfere,” said the man; “it ain’t my business.”
“If a bob would—” began Dick.
“It would,” said the man, smiling as he pocketed it. “He lives at Piggott’s Bay,” he said impressively.
“And where might that be?” inquired the seaman.