“Certainly I can, as I would for my own,” was the answer. “I have known him from his babyhood, and, moreover, I have often heard this golden ball spoken of by his adopted father, though I have never seen it.” “Then,” said the other, “supposing we step up to the police-station, and have it returned to him. It is one of the most curious cases I ever heard of, and I am interested to see that the boy comes out of it all right.” Within ten minutes the sergeant had been satisfied that Breeze was the rightful owner of the locket, had returned it to him, and he had again clasped its chain about his neck. He was very happy in thus regaining possession of it, and very thankful to those who had so promptly assisted him. When Captain Coffin proposed that they should now go to the jeweller’s shop and get him to again open the ball, Breeze begged him not to think of such a thing. “I don’t want that man ever to get it into his possession,” he said, “and I don’t believe he’d open it for us anyway, now.” “I guess the boy is about right,” remarked the politician, thoughtfully. “That fellow has evidently some strong reason for wishing to obtain the trinket, and if he got hold of it again he might change it for another that looked just like it, and we never be the wiser.” This was just what Breeze had thought of when he had refused to leave the jeweller’s shop and go in search of proofs of his ownership of the locket, and he was greatly pleased at this evidence that he had acted wisely. That night the _Curlew_ sailed out of New York Bay, and was once more headed to the southward in search of the early mackerel. The following day was clear and bright, but very cold for that season of the year. There were only a few clouds to be seen; but the sky was coppery in color, and the wind, which was still off-shore, was fitful and baffling. At supper-time, about an hour before sunset, the man at the wheel, who happened to be one of those who ate at the first table, said, “Here, McCloud, you belong to second mess; take the wheel while I eat supper, will you?” “Certainly I will,” answered Breeze, cheerfully. “What’s the course?” “South by west, half west, an open sea, a favoring wind, and no odds asked or given,” was the laughing response, as the man hurried forward. Captain Coffin was impatient to get back among the mackerel, and so the schooner was running under all the sail she could carry, including a jib-topsail and a huge main-staysail. Somewhat to his surprise, Breeze now found himself the sole occupant of the deck. The skipper and half the crew were eating their supper in the forecastle, while the others were in the cabin, sleeping, reading, and keeping warm. On account of the cold, they had drawn the slide over the companion-way.