“This is one of the most touching things that I have ever seen, Mr. Chairman,” the consul said, stepping forward. “That this stricken and unfortunate man, a stranger in a strange land, sick, destitute, almost bereft of reason, should show this emotion at the sight of my flag, an emotion that nothing else excites in him, leaves me no room to doubt that he is my countryman. And yet I am compelled to say that this is not legal proof of his nationality, and to explain, what most of you doubtless know, that a consul is only permitted to give substantial aid to distressed seamen who are beyond doubt citizens of his country. Still I should be glad to strain a point and send this man home, if I only knew where to send him; but that is yet one of the mysteries.
“What we have just seen, however, convinces me that his reason is not dead, only sleeping. Any familiar sight, the face of a member of his family, even the mention of a familiar name, might restore his lost memory in an instant. I think you medical gentlemen will agree with me in this, for you have seen such cases. We shall have within a few weeks reports from our respective governments giving the names of all the British and American vessels that were lost last year. It is highly probable that the mention of the name of this man’s ship may awaken his memory sufficiently to give us a clue to his identity; and I shall of course lay the facts before the State Department at once. But meanwhile I am so firmly convinced that this unfortunate man is my countryman that I will willingly take upon myself personally the responsibility of his support.”
The consul had hardly resumed his chair before one of the members of the Board sprang to his feet.
“Mr. Chairman,” he almost shouted, “it is about two months, as you know, since I returned from America. While there my interest in hospital work naturally led me to visit the great hospitals in many of the large cities. In New York, in Boston, in Chicago, in San Francisco, in New Orleans, I found that at least ten per cent of all the patients were British subjects, receiving every possible care and kindness without question of their nationality. In that land they do not ask whether a man is an American or a Briton or a Hottentot; the only question is whether he is sick and in need of help, and if he needs it they give it to him. I do not wonder that this unfortunate man shed tears at the sight of his flag. And if we turn him out into the streets to starve because he is a foreigner, we ought to shed tears at the sight of ours, though for a widely different reason.”
As the speaker took his seat there was such a furious clapping of hands that the chairman had to rap on the table for order.
“The Board seems to be so much of one mind,” he said, “that it is not necessary to put a motion. John Doe will remain an inmate of the hospital until the Board’s further orders. And now, gentlemen, the orderly informs me that dinner is waiting. We hope, Mr. Consul, that you will do us the honor to dine with us.”
At the precise moment when the Board went in to dinner, and the tottering John Doe was led back to his favorite seat in the sunny yard, Kit, in happy ignorance of his father’s condition, was learning that a sponge as big as a bushel basket could be pressed into a small cigar box.
CHAPTER VII.
KIT BECOMES A SUPERCARGO.
TO have another run out to Huntington when the North Cape returned from Nassau, was something that Kit had been looking forward to. Not for a week this time, for he could not expect to have a week’s holiday at the end of every voyage; but for two nights and a day, perhaps; long enough to see the familiar faces and the old place.