“No fear o’ them, my girl,” returned the captain, putting his huge rough hand on her pretty little head as if in an act of solemn appropriation, for, unlike too many fathers, this exemplary man considered only the sweetness, goodness, and personal worth of the girl, caring not a straw for other matters, and being strongly of opinion that a man should marry young if he possess the spirit of a man or the means to support a wife.  As he was particularly fond of Kathleen, and felt quite sure that his son had deeper reasons than he chose to express for his course of action, he entertained a strong hope, not to say conviction, that she would also become fond of Nigel, and that all things would thus work together for a smooth course to this case of true love.

It will be seen from all this that Captain David Roy was a sanguine man.  Whether his hopes were well grounded or not remains to be seen.

Meanwhile, having, as Mr. Moor said, shipped the cargo, the Sunshine set sail once more for Sunda Straits in a measure of outward gloom that formed a powerful contrast to the sunny hopes within her commander’s bosom, for Krakatoa was at that time progressing rapidly towards the consummation of its designs, as partly described in the last chapter.

Short though that voyage was, it embraced a period of action so thrilling that ever afterwards it seemed a large slice of life’s little day to those who went through it.

We have said that the culminating incidents of the drama began on the night of the 26th.  Before that time, however, the cloud-pall was fast spreading over land and sea, and the rain of pumice and ashes had begun to descend.

The wind being contrary, it was several days before the brig reached the immediate neighbourhood of Krakatoa, and by that time the volcano had begun to enter upon the stage which is styled by vulcanologists “paroxysmal,” the explosions being extremely violent as well as frequent.

“It is very awful,” said Kathleen in a low voice, as she clasped the captain’s arm and leaned her slight figure on it.  “I have often heard the thunder of distant volcanoes, but never been so near as to hear such terrible sounds.”

“Don’t be frightened, my ducky,” said the captain in a soothing tone, for he felt from the appearance of things that there was indeed some ground for alarm.  “Volcanoes always look worse when you’re near them.”

“I not frightened,” she replied.  “Only I got strange, solemn feelings.  Besides, no danger can come till God allows.”

“That’s right, lass.  Mrs. Holbein has been a true mother if she taught you that.”

“No, she did not taught me that.  My father taught me that.”

“What!  Old Holbein?”

“No—­my father, who is dead,” she said in a low voice.

“Oh!  I see.  My poor child, I should have understood you.  Forgive me.”