They had now arrived at the point of the Jackal River where the pinnace was moored.

“What do you think of this boat?” inquired Becker.

“The pinnace is well enough for fair weather; but it is not the sort of craft I should like to command in a storm at sea.”

“So that to venture to sea in it would be to incur imminent danger?”

“There is no denying that, Mr. Becker; if she shipped a moderately heavy sea, down she must go to the bottom, like a four and twenty pound shot; and if she should spring a leak, you cannot land to put her to rights; the waves are by no means solid.”

“Just as I thought!” exclaimed Becker; “I was right in judging that it would be a sacrifice.  It is almost certain death; but they must go.”

“Where?” inquired Willis.

“To Europe if need be, if God in his mercy spares the pinnace.”

“What for?”

“I have the means of purchasing surgical skill, and I must use all the sacrifices at my command to obtain it.”

“Avast heaving, Mr. Becker,” cried Willis; “now I understand; the thing is as clear as the tackle of the best bower, and when a resolution is once formed, nothing like paying it out at the word of command.  When shall we start?”

“I am not talking of either you or myself, Willis.”

“Of whom then, may I ask?”

“Fritz and Jack.  Fritz knows something of navigation; and if they succeed, they will have saved their mother; if they perish, they will have died to save her.”

“Fritz, as you say, does know something of navigation, particularly as regards coasting; but here you have a pilot, accustomed to salt water, quite handy, why not engage him also?”

“Willis, you have yourself said that the undertaking is perilous in the extreme, and your life is not bound up like theirs in that of their mother.”

“True; but do you not see that I am sick of dry land, and that I am getting rusty for the want of a little sea air?”

“I felt ashamed to ask you to share in so desperate an enterprise, otherwise I would have proposed it to you, Willis.”

“But you might have seen that I was growing thin, absolutely pining away, and drying up on land.  There are ducks that can live without water, but I am not one of them.”

“Am I, then, to understand that you offer to risk your life in this forlorn hope?”

“Certainly, Mr. Becker; a man condemned to be hanged, running the risk of being drowned is no great sacrifice.”

“Willis, I accept your offer, to share in the dangers of this enterprise, most gratefully.  I thank you in the name of my sons and of their mother, and trust that God may enable me to recompense you for your devotion to them and to myself.”

[Illustration]

“You forget,” added Willis, wiping a tear from the corner of his eye, that he ascribed to a grain of dust, “you forget that I was on the point of venturing out to sea in the canoe, had you yourself and Mr. Wolston not prevented me.  There is work to be done, I admit; and it is not impossible to cross even the Indian Ocean in the pinnace.  But we may find a doctor, perhaps, at some of the settlements—­for instance, at Manilla, in the Philippines.”