There was no reply. He fumbled about in the darkness for the matches, and having obtained them, struck a light and looked round. The cabin was empty. He opened the door of the state-room and peered in; that too was empty. “He must have gone for a walk with the boy,” said the skipper uneasily when he returned with the news. He took up the parcel again and went below, followed by the mate, and for some time sat silently smoking. “Nine o’clock,” said the mate at last in consternation as the little clock tinkled the hour. “That confounded boy’s not up to any mischief, I s’pose? He’s been in a devil of a temper the last day or two.” “I don’t see what mischief he could do,” pondered the other, knitting his brows. “Look’s to me as if he’s spirited him away,” continued the mate. “I’ll go ashore and have a look round and see whether I can see anything of them.” He took his cap from the locker and went. An hour elapsed, and the skipper, a prey to great anxiety, went up on deck. The shops had closed, and with the exception of the street lamps, the town was in darkness and the streets silent, except for a chance wayfarer. Two or three seamen came up the quay and went aboard the steamer in the next berth. A woman came slowly along, peering in an uncertain fashion at the various craft, and shrinking back as a seaman passed her. Abreast of the _Seamew_ she stopped, and in the same doubtful manner looked down on the deck. The skipper crossed to the side, and straining his eyes through the gloom, looked up at her. “Is this the _Seamew?_” inquired a fresh girlish voice. “Annis!” shouted the astounded skipper. “Annis!” He ran up the rigging, and stepping on to the quay seized her hand. Then he drew her unresistingly towards him and was in the act of passing his arm round her waist when he remembered his position and drew back awkwardly. “Come on board,” he said gently. He straddled from the quay to the rigging, and extending his hand in the midst of a perfect silence, helped her to the deck. “Where is my father?” she said eagerly. Wilson made no reply. “Where is he?” she repeated. Wilson shook his head. “I don’t know,” he said gloomily, “I don’t know. He was here an hour or two ago. He was here yesterday.” She caught his arm breathlessly. “Where is he now? What have you done with him?” Wilson told her all he knew and having finished, watched her anxiously as she drew back a little and tapped on the deck with her foot. A badly-blended chorus, making up in strength what it lacked in harmony, sounded on the quay, and gradually coming nearer, stopped at the _Seamew_ for a final shout. The finale was rendered by the cook and Dick with much vehemence, while Sam, excited by his potations, danced madly before them. “Silence up there!” shouted the skipper sternly, as Annis shrank away. “A’ right, sir,” hiccupped Dick solemnly. “I’m lookin’ after them. Mind how you break your neck, Sam.”