The old merchant came forward and grasped me by the hand as if greeting his oldest friend. We talked pleasantly about old times for a few minutes, and then, excusing himself to his sister, he took my arm and led me into the conservatory, where he intimated that he had something new in the way of ferns to show me. As we passed along through the aisles, among the plants, I recognized a rare Australian fern that I had presented him on my return from the first voyage I had made in one of his vessels. It was pleasant to be among those luxurious surroundings, even for a short time, but as I knew that he had business with me which he was anxious to settle, my interest centred mostly upon the old gentleman himself. After a desultory and one-sided conversation, in which I took the smaller part, he seated himself on a rustic bench and motioned me to sit beside him. “I wished you to be here to-night,” he began, “so you would meet Mr. Brown and, perhaps, have a talk with him, for he is going to sail with you on the _Arrow_.” I remained silent, for I couldn’t quite catch the drift of his meaning. “Not as a passenger,” he went on, “but as third mate.” Then he was silent for a moment as he saw I was listening. “I see,” I answered, but I really saw nothing except the old man’s keen gray eyes regarding me curiously from over the rim of his eye-glasses. I am an old sea-dog of the tight-jawed breed, and I’ve always found that when a man wishes to learn something it is best to let the man imparting the knowledge do the talking. “The young man has not been in good health for some time past and we have thought it advisable that he should take a long sea-voyage on which he can get plenty of exercise and fresh air. He has expressed a preference to go with you on the _Arrow_.” “I see,” I answered again, for although not of a suspicious nature, I was beginning to see that there was something unhealthy about the business. I did not feel greatly flattered by the preference bestowed upon me, so I kept quiet after admitting that I saw. My manner was not lost upon Mr. Ropesend, for he eyed me keenly, and continued: “Mr. Gore, this young man’s father was my earliest friend. I looked upon him as I would look upon my own brother, and I look upon his child as I would look upon--well, say my own--had I ever married and had one--you understand?” I bowed. “And as he will have to be in your watch, I want you to take every care of him that you possibly can, without, of course, interfering with the ship’s duties or discipline. He will not be one who will try to shirk hard work.” He said this with great warmth, and after pausing a moment to allow his words to have their effect, continued: