As he drew near the yawl, the answering voice became suddenly muffled, and Heldstrom knew that the speaker had gone below, while still talking. There was an excited note to this voice which suggested the babble of a fever patient. Heldstrom saw his bow oar furtively cross himself. This man had one day encountered the Finn when both were the worse for drink, and the warlock had opened his lips and delivered himself of informations which had sobered the Irishman as a sluicing with ice-water might have done. Close aboard the yawl, Heldstrom gave the order--"Way enough!" As the gig shot alongside, Heldstrom saw Applebo standing in the cockpit, staring down at him. The face of the old man grew stiff and cold as ice. Applebo's features were like a clay death-mask and the only live quality was in the eyes, these barely visible between the double fringe of dark lashes. "Good-morning," said he, in a voice as expressionless as his face. "Captain Heldstrom of the _Shark_, I believe?" "Der same," answered Heldstrom, and added: "I haf come to pay a visit. I am curious to see der little yawl vich haf followed me for so many miles of sea." "Pray come aboard," said Applebo. "There is really not much to see. I am about to breakfast. Perhaps you will do me the honour to join me." "T'anks..." said Heldstrom. He stepped aboard the yawi, then turned to the stroke-oar, who was shifting aft to take the yoke lines. "Go back alongside," said Heldstrom. "I vill ask you..." he turned to Applebo, "to set me back on my ship." "Certainly." The gig glided off into the fog. Heldstrom, standing by the main rigging, stared under lowered brows at Applebo. "We have t'ings to say to each odder," he remarked, in a heavy voice. "Dis fella of yours ... does he oonderstand English?" "Yes," answered Applebo. He motioned to the Finn, who was eyeing the two with his shaggy head at its curious slant. "Get in the dinghy and hang off and on," said Applebo, in Danish. "When I want you, I will whistle. Keep away. I do not wish to be interrupted." The Finn appeared to hesitate. "Go..." said Applebo, "... at once!" The Finn tugged at his cap. Without a word, he stepped into the dinghy and pulled off into the fog. As soon as he was lost to sight, Applebo turned to Heldstrom. "Come below," said he, and led the way. In the cabin of the yawl, Applebo motioned his guest to a transome opposite. The old man was too great of bulk for one of the camp-chairs. For a minute the two men eyed each other in silence. Heldstrom was breathing heavily; Applebo was as pale as it was possible for his peculiar ivory tint to become, but, aside from the singular glow of his eyes, his manner was free of all emotion. Heldstrom spoke first. "I know you," he said, in English. "You are my son." Applebo slightly inclined his head. Heldstrom gave him another piercing look. "You haf all of your mudder ... und more!" he said. "You haf also somet'ing of me. Der vorst of me."