The little group of would-be explorers turned, as one, and stared in startled surprise at the newcomer. He was a white man undeniably by his features, but so sunburnt by a tropical sun, and so browned by sea winds, that he might otherwise have been mistaken for an Indian or native at first glance. His clothes were remarkable, too. Originally they must have been ordinary sea-going clothes, but they had been so patched and overlaid with extraneous substances such as bits of sailcloth, tarpaulin, and other unrecognizable materials that they presented a strange spectacle, to say the least. His feet were bare, and his hair and beard had grown long and matted, and were, in addition, bleached to a dull tow color. Yet, as he approached them, they could see that his eyes were a bright, piercing blue, and to Lis and Erica there was something puzzling and oddly familiar in his face that grew stronger the longer they stared at him. Then Lis uttered a shout of, “_Captain Joy!_” and flung himself at the man, grasping both calloused, leathery hands in excited recognition. Captain Eric was not a second behind his nephew. Putting Lis aside gently, he grasped, in his turn, the hands of this astonishing tatterdemalion creature from the jungle, and pumped them up and down in vigorous greeting. “Caleb Joy, as I live!” he fairly roared at the man. “What under the shining sun are you doing here, and in that get-up?” Erica, too surprised to move or speak, stood at her father’s side, her breath coming faster, and her sea-blue eyes suddenly seeing another picture—a moonlight October night eight months ago, and Tommy, Lis, and herself dancing down Main Street, home in Nantucket, arms linked, whistling a gay tune for sheer, exuberant joy in the crisp night air, the sea smells the wind brought them from the ocean, and the general, thrilling exultation of being young and alive in a beautiful world. She saw them swing out on the wharf, and stop to gaze out at the sharp black and silver of the harbor water, and the masts of a whaler etched starkly against the rising moon. She remembered how they had stood and gazed, filled with the beauty of the scene, inarticulate as young things usually are, but deeply moved inwardly with an emotion they would have been ashamed to avow even to one another.