“Now isn’t that a thoughtful sister of mine!” he exclaimed, handing the message to Mr. Clark. “She knows that I’ll be in a hurry to set off if we identify the picture. So she sends me this cable to give me time to make any arrangements on the way up to New York.”

“This is important news for you, Silburn,” the purser said, after reading the few words. “It looks very much as if you would find your father.”

“It is the best news I ever got in my life, sir,” Kit answered. “I don’t quite understand what my sister means by ‘very encouraging,’ but I imagine they are still in a little doubt after seeing the picture, though they think it looks like my father.”

“That is exactly what I anticipated after hearing your story,” the purser agreed. “You have no idea how hardships and sickness can alter a man’s appearance in a few months; and from what you tell me, your father, if this is your father, must have gone through a great deal. Now what do you propose to do about it?”

“I think I ought to get out there just as soon as possible, sir,” Kit answered, “if we are all agreed at home that the picture bears a reasonable resemblance to my father.”

“I can’t advise you against it, Silburn; I can’t advise you against it,” Mr. Clark said, more seriously than was his custom. “If I were out there in that fix, I should expect one of my boys to come after me just as fast as a ship would bring him. I don’t want to lose you for a few months, but it is your duty to go. You must remember, though, that you are to come back to me. I will get some one to take your place while you are gone, but I want you back again when you return.”

On the homeward voyage there were some serious talks in the purser’s office about how Kit was to be got to New Zealand.

“It just amounts to this,” Captain Fraser said, after the matter had been well discussed. “If there is any ship going that way that I know the master of, or the owners of, I can almost certainly arrange it for you; and if there isn’t, I can’t. You will have to go without pay, you understand; just for your passage there and back.”

“I will willingly do that, sir,” Kit answered.

“Then I’ll tell you how I think it can be done,” the Captain continued. “Here’s a steamer, we’ll say, loading for Australia, with a supercargo at so many dollars a month. Now after seeing the owners or agents and convincing them that you are a supercargo of experience and understand your business, and getting their consent, we go to the supercargo and say, ‘Here’s a seafaring man got a sick father in New Zealand; wants to go out there and bring him home; willing to make the round voyage and do your work for the sake of the passage. We have seen your agents and they are willing. You stay ashore this voyage and draw your pay and enjoy yourself, and he’ll do your work.’”