“Well! You are not going to sea again immediately, that is all about it. You have handled the ‘Lucy’ for two years, away from home, using your own judgment, in a manner that, even were you not our kinsman, would entitle you to a long rest at the expense of our house as grateful shipowners,” said Lucy’s grandfather. The young man giving no heed to the compliment contained in the remarks made by James Dunlap, but looking up and straight into the eyes of the brother just arrived from Haiti, said so earnestly that there could be no question of his purpose: “I wish to get to sea as soon as possible. If I cannot sail in the ‘Adams,’ much as I dislike to leave you, sirs, I must seek other employ.” “The devil you will!” exclaimed his godfather angrily. “Why, if you sail now you will miss your cousin’s wedding and disappoint her,” added James Dunlap. “Again, gentlemen, I say that I shall get to sea within a few days. I either go in the ‘Adams’ or seek other employ,” and all the time he was speaking not once did the sailor remove his steady gaze from the eyes of him for whom he was named. To say that the Dunlap brothers were astonished is putting it too mildly; they were amazed. The master of a Dunlap ship was an object of envy to every shipmaster out of Boston—the pay and employ was the best in America—that a kinsman and master should even propose to leave their employ was monstrous. In amazement both of the old gentlemen looked at the young man in silence. Suddenly as old John Dunlap looked into young John Dunlap’s honest eyes he read something there, for first leaning forward in his chair and gazing more intently into the gray eyes of the sailor, he sprang to his feet and grasping the arm of his young kinsman he fairly hauled him to the window at the other end of the room, then facing him around so that he could get a good look at his face, he almost whispered: “Jack, when did you learn first that Lucy was to be married?” “When I came ashore at Boston one week ago.” The answer came so quickly that the question must have been read in the eyes of the older man before uttered. “I thought so,” said the old man softly and sadly, as he walked, still holding the sailor by the arm, back to the fire, and added as he neared his brother: “James, Jack wants the ‘Adams’ and is in earnest. I can’t have him leave our employ; therefore he must go as master of that ship.” “But, brother, think of it,” exclaimed James Dunlap. “There is no but about it, James, I wish him to sail in our ship, the ‘Adams,’ as master. I understand his desire and endorse his wish to get to sea.” “Oh! Of course if you really are in earnest just instruct Burton in the premises, but Jack must dine with us tomorrow and see Lucy or she will never forgive him or me.”