One by one various schemes for preventing his son’s projected alliance were dismissed as impracticable.  A cherished design of confining him in an asylum for the mentally afflicted until such time as he should have regained his senses was spoilt by the refusal of Dr. Murchison to arrange for the necessary certificate; a refusal which was like to have been fraught with serious consequences to that gentleman’s hopes of entering the captain’s family.

Brooding over his wrongs the captain, a day or two after his daughter’s return, strolled slowly down towards the harbour.  It was afternoon, and the short winter day was already drawing towards a close.  The shipping looked cold and desolate in the greyness, but a bustle of work prevailed on the Conqueror, which was nearly ready for sea again.  The captain’s gaze wandered from his old craft to the small vessels dotted about the harbour and finally dwelt admiringly on the lines of the whaler Seabird, which had put in a few days before as the result of a slight collision with a fishing-boat.  She was high out of the water and beautifully rigged.  A dog ran up and down her decks barking, and a couple of squat figures leaned over the bulwarks gazing stolidly ashore.

There was something about the vessel which took his fancy, and he stood for some time on the edge of the quay, looking at her.  In a day or two she would sail for a voyage the length of which would depend upon her success; a voyage which would for a long period keep all on board of her out of the mischief which so easily happens ashore.  If only Jack——­

He started and stared more intently than before.  He was not an imaginative man, but he had in his mind’s eye a sudden vision of his only son waving farewells from the deck of the whaler as she emerged from the harbour into the open sea, while Amelia Kybird tore her yellow locks ashore.  It was a vision to cheer any self-respecting father’s heart, and he brought his mind back with some regret to the reality of the anchored ship.

He walked home slowly.  At the Kybirds’ door the proprietor, smoking a short clay pipe, eyed him with furtive glee as he passed.  Farther along the road the Hardys, father and son, stepped briskly together.  Altogether a trying walk, and calculated to make him more dissatisfied than ever with the present state of affairs.  When his daughter shook her head at him and accused him of going off on a solitary frolic his stock of patience gave out entirely.

[Illustration:  “The proprietor eyed him with furtive glee as he passed.”]

A thoughtful night led to a visit to Mr. Wilks the following evening.  It required a great deal of deliberation on his part before he could make up his mind to the step, but he needed his old steward’s assistance in a little plan he had conceived for his son’s benefit, and for the first time in his life he paid him the supreme honour of a call.

The honour was so unexpected that Mr. Wilks, coming into the parlour in response to the tapping of the captain’s stick on the floor, stood for a short time eyeing him in dismay.  Only two minutes before he had taken Mr. James Hardy into the kitchen to point out the interior beauties of an ancient clock, and the situation simply appalled him.  The captain greeted him almost politely and bade him sit down.  Mr. Wilks smiled faintly and caught his breath.