“I know it, Jack,” replied Dean, as he grasped the sailor’s hand. “You and I will get along famously together. “I suppose we are to start at ten o’clock. Now, that I have fixed up the matter with the builders of the _Spray_, that will not have to be attended to. There are a few things to look after on shore. I will be back by nine sharp.” “Aye, aye, lad, sharp.” Dean felt anxious over the fortunes of Marcus Ellison, and he resolved to visit him as soon as he had eaten breakfast at one of the restaurants. He had no trouble in finding the humble home of his friend, and he was met at the door by a sweet-faced woman whom he quickly learned was Marcus’ mother. She greeted him with extreme kindness as soon as she had found that he was her son’s friend, but to Dean’s dismay he was told that Marcus had not come home. Mrs. Ellison had not been worried over his non-appearance, as she would have been had she known the truth. Attributing his prolonged absence to some cause connected with his errand to Millville, she had not felt any great uneasiness. But now she suddenly became alarmed. “Something has happened to him--my boy! He would have come directly to me if he had been able,” she declared, and Dean did not doubt the truth of the assertion. “Let us hope he is safe. Perhaps he has gone to see his father with the good news.” “He would have come to me first. Oh, my boy! my boy!” “Can you think of any place where he would be likely to call? You know we did not get into the city until nearly midnight.” “I can think of no place where he would go before coming to me,” replied the distracted mother. “Oh, when will our troubles end? We were so happy a few years ago, and now----” Dean soon started out to see if he could not get some trace of the missing boy, but at half-past nine he had not got an inkling of his whereabouts. No one had seen him after he had left the _Warrior_, and his disappearance was shrouded in mystery. So Dean Mercer went on board the _Spray_ with a heavy heart. In the short time he had known Marcus Ellison, he had come to regard him as a friend, and the other’s sad story had awakened his pity. News of the new steamer _Spray_ had been heralded about Springfield and vicinity, so that before seven o’clock people had begun to throng about the pier, many of them anxious to make the initial trip, while the others came as curious onlookers. Jack Carboy watched this throng with keen interest, ever and anon giving expression to his feelings in one of his quaint expressions. But finally he grew anxious about Dean, and as the hour began to draw towards a close without bringing the young commander, he became excited: “By the horn of Neptune!” he stormed, “here’s a gale! Ship ready to sail and no skipper.” “Blow your trumpet, you water-soaked old salt, and be hanged,” exclaimed a bystander. “Where under the sun did you get washed in here?”