“No doubt; the unknown is always attractive,” replied Crispin sententiously. “But after all, when I tell you everything, you may be disappointed. The mountain may only bring forth a mouse, you know. But, at all events, I look forward to some pretty lively times.” “Where?” “In the Island of Melnos. My dear innocent Englishman, you are being drawn into a network of intrigue and duplicity, but, as I hold all the threads in my hand, you will come out all right in the end.” “You puzzle me! I hope I _will_ come all right out of this mystery.” “I heard a vulgar saying at a music hall which applies to this case and to you,” said Crispin gayly; “it was, ‘Keep your eye on your father, and your father will pull you through.’” CHAPTER XIII. THE PAST OF A POET. We all have histories. The meanest hind Who turns the steaming furrow can unfold Some story in his uneventful life, Which stirs the wonderment of him who hears, To thoughts bewildered, how so small a stage Can thus contain so great a tragedy. The Eunice left Southampton on an unpleasantly wet day, and standing on the deck, under a dull gray sky, the three adventurers felt quite dispirited as they watched the receding shores of England veil themselves in chilly mists. Going down the Channel they had moderately fair weather, but no sunlight, and Caliphronas, who was a wretchedly bad sailor, in spite of his Levantine cruisings, retreated to his cabin in a very miserable frame of mind. Both Crispin and Maurice, however, were in good health and spirits, mostly remaining on deck to watch the gray sea heaving dully under the gray sky. In the Bay of Biscay bad weather prevailed as a matter of course, and the yacht tossed about a good deal in the choppy waters. Not until they passed the Straits did they have fine weather, for the first burst of sunlight showed them the giant rock of Gibraltar frowning on the left as they steamed rapidly into the blue waters of the Mediterranean.