Saltash took out his cigarette-case and opened it with great leisureliness.  The smile still played about his ugly features as he chose a cigarette.  Finally he snapped the lid and looked down again at his protege.

“Or Toby nothing?” he said.

Toby’s eyes came up to his, though the effort to raise them drew his face painfully.

“Whatever you like, my lord,” he said faintly.  “I’ll answer to anything.”

Saltash’s own face was curiously softened.  He looked down at Toby for some seconds in silence, idly tapping the cigarette he held against the case.  Then:  “How old are you?” he asked suddenly.

“Sixteen, sir.”  Toby’s eyes with their dumb pleading were still anxiously raised to his.

Saltash bent abruptly and put his hand very lightly over them.  “All right.  Don’t hurt yourself!” he said kindly.  “You’re young enough to chuck the past and start again.”

Toby’s claw-like hands came up and closed upon his wrist.  “Wish I could, sir,” he whispered with lips that quivered.  “Haven’t had much of a chance—­so far, sir.”

“All right,” Saltash said again.  “It’s up to you.  I shan’t interfere.  Don’t expect too much of me; that’s all I ask!  I’m not considered exactly a suitable companion for young things like you.”

He drew his hand away and lighted his cigarette.  Toby turned his face into the cushion and lay very still.

Larpent, returning, wondered what his patron had been saying to make the boy’s eyes wet with tears, but betrayed no curiosity on the subject.

“Are you going to let him stay in here?” he asked, as he bound a lotion-soaked pad over the damaged eye.

“For the present,” said Saltash.  “Any objection?”

“Not the smallest.”  Larpent’s tone was absolutely noncommittal.  “Make him lie quiet, that’s all!”

“He’ll do that,” said Saltash with confidence.

“Good!” said Larpent.  “We’re in for a blow before we reach Gib or I’m much mistaken.”

“Do us all good,” said Saltash with satisfaction.

Larpent looked grim and said no more.

“Frightened?” asked Saltash of Toby when he was gone.

Toby chuckled at the thought.  “Not a bit, sir.”

“Good sailor by any chance?” questioned Saltash.

“No, sir; rotten, sir.”  Quite undaunted came the reply.

“Well, shut your eyes and go to sleep!” commanded Saltash, and spread a rug over the small, curled-up figure.

Toby murmured his thanks and relaxed with a big sigh of content.

Some hours later, when the blow that Larpent had prophesied had arrived in earnest and the yacht was pitching on a wild sea in the light of a lurid sunset, Saltash came below to change.

He was met by Toby, ghastly of face but still desperately smiling, who sprang from his couch to wait upon him, and collapsed at his feet.

“Little ass!” said Saltash, barely preventing himself from tumbling over him headlong.