The _North Star_ was in dry dock in St. Johns, undergoing repairs, and Captain Zachariah Bluntt was enjoying a month ashore. He spent his days superintending repairs, and regularly at six o’clock each evening went home, ate supper, donned a pair of big carpet slippers, lighted his pipe, and settled himself for a comfortable hour reading the shipping news in _The Chronicle_. Mrs. Bluntt as regularly joined him, with a lapful of things to mend, while the two Misses Bluntt cleared away the supper things and retired to the kitchen to wash the dishes before joining the sitting-room circle. The household was thus engaged one evening when the doorbell rang. One of the Misses Bluntt answered the ring, and a moment later burst into the living room to disturb Captain Bluntt’s reading with the announcement: “A telegram, Father.” “Now I wonders what’s happened!” exclaimed Mrs. Bluntt, for the receipt of a telegram was no ordinary occurrence in the routine life of the household. “We’ll see! We’ll see!” said Captain Bluntt, and placing a finger under the flap of the envelope he tore it open, withdrew the telegram, carefully unfolded it and held it up at arm’s length to read. “By the imps of the sea! By the imps of the sea!” he exclaimed, springing to his feet. “The two youngsters, Dan Rudd and the Densmore youngster! They’re safe! Here it is! It says they’re safe! Safe, I say!” The family were in a state of high excitement at once. Mrs. Bluntt and the two Misses Bluntt surrounded the Captain, asking all together, “Where are they? Let me see it. How did they get there?” and a flood of other questions and exclamations. At length, the full meaning of the telegram digested, Captain Bluntt announced: “I’m goin’ t’ New York! The rascals! I’ goin’ t’ New York on the first train! On the first train!” and grabbing his hat he started for the door. “But, Father, the train don’t go till tomorrow evenin’,” informed one of his daughters. “I know! I know! But I wants t’ get Tom Hand. I’ll send Tom Hand t’ Ragged Cove on th’ mail boat. Sails in th’ morning! Want Tom t’ take word t’ Dan’s folks!” “Well for goodness’ sake, Skipper, take off those slippers first and put on your shoes,” suggested Mrs. Bluntt. “Yes, yes, to be sure! To be sure! And I’ll write a letter for Tom to take. Yes, yes, he better have a letter!” and Captain Bluntt impatiently donned his shoes, wrote the letter and hurried away on his mission. Half an hour later the Captain returned. “Now that’s fixed. That’s all right. Tom goes on the mail boat. Wanted to let ’em know. Make ’em feel good! Yes, make ’em feel good! Those rascals! Saved all this if they’d come back t’ the ship according t’ orders. Have t’ wring their necks! Yes, have t’ wring their necks when I gets hold of ’em. Pair of young rascals!”