The Finn muttered some excuse and hove himself up through the companionway. Applebo turned over and tried to sleep, but it was a vain effort. The Finn had quite banished all drowsiness for the time, and his little ship's clock had struck two bells, then three, then four and five before he lost consciousness again. At eight bells ... four of the morning, he awoke with a start. Turning up his lamp, he reached for his barometer and found that it had risen two-tenths. He slid out of his bunk and shoved his head up through the hatch, to discover that the wind had hauled southerly. "Wind's going around..." he said to himself. "It'll be westerly in the morning and clear, with a hard nor'wester. If it's any way possible, we'll go out about eight." For several minutes he hung through the hatch, staring into the murk. Some hard puffs struck the yawl, swinging her a trifle on her hawsers. "Wind's getting westerly now..." said Applebo. "It's not such an awful blow, anyway. We've been out in worse...." The rain had stopped and the air was comparatively clear. Applebo breathed it deeply. He cocked his head and stood for a moment listening to the roar of the surf on the beach across the neck. "Some sea out there ... this wind is hauling right around...." All at once he sprang up through the hatch and started forward along the deck. The fore-hatch was open and he saw the shoulders of the Finn, halfway through it. Then, the man's pallid face was turned up to him in the vague light. "Heave in your chain," said Applebo. "We are going out." CHAPTER XVI Christian Heldstrom returned from the interview with his new-found son, shaken to the core of his strong but simple being. On boarding the _Shark_, he went at once to his room, where he seated himself on a big, iron-bound sea-chest and remained for some minutes staring absently straight in front of him. The lines of his face were haggard; under its tan the weather-beaten skin looked drawn and faded as old leather, and there was a droop to mouth and eyes which told not only of fatigue, but a sense of defeat. He was still sitting in the same position when there came a familiar little tap on the door. Heldstrom pulled himself together. "Coom in, Hermione..." he said. Hermione entered and closed the door behind her. For a moment she stood by Heldstrom's shoulder, regarding him in a half-shy, half-anxious way. "You have been to see Applebo, Uncle Chris?" "Yes," answered Heldstrom, heavily. "He is my son. He told you?" Hermione clasped her hands and leaned toward him. "Yes ... this morning. Oh, Uncle Chris! Aren't you delighted?" "Not altogedder. Vat else did he tell you?" "He told me that his greatest dread was just this; that you might not wish him for a son ... as he wanted you for a father. That was why he has followed the _Shark_ all summer. He wanted to be near his father, but shrank from revealing himself before he could feel more sure that you would be pleased."