“Why, father,” said the youth, when seated at the small cabin table opposite his rugged parent, “you seem to be in an unusually solemn frame of mind this morning.  Has anything happened?”

“Nothin’, boy—­nothin’.  Leastwise nothin’ in particular.  You know all about the brig, an’ what a deal o’ repair she’s got to undergo?”

“Of course I do.  You know I was present when you talked the matter over with that fellow—­what’s-’is-name—­that gave you his report.”

“Just so.  Well now, Nigel, you don’t suppose, do you, that I’m goin’ to keep you here for some months knockin’ about with nothin’ to do—­eatin’ your grub in idleness?”

“Certainly not,” said the youth, regarding the stern countenance of his parent with an amused look.  “I have no intention of acting such an ignoble part, and I’m surprised at you askin’ the question, for you know I am not lazy—­at least not more so than average active men—­and there must be plenty of work for me to do in looking after the cargo, superintending repairs, taking care of the ship and men.  I wonder at you, father.  You must either have had a shock of dotage, or fallen into a poetical vein.  What is a first mate fit for if—­”

“Nigel,” said Captain Roy, interrupting, “I’m the owner an’ commander of the Sunshine, besides bein’ the paternal parent of an impertinent son, and I claim to have the right to do as I please—­therefore, hold your tongue and listen to me.”

“All right, father,” replied the young man, with a benignant grin; “proceed, but don’t be hard upon me; spare my feelings.”

“Well now, this is how the land lies,” said the old seaman, resting his elbows on the table and clasping his hands before him.  “As Mr. Moor and I, with the stooard and men, are quite sufficient to manage the affairs o’ the brig, and as we shall certainly be here for a considerable time to come, I’ve made up my mind to give you a holiday.  You’re young, you see, an’ foolish, and your mind needs improvin’.  In short, you want a good deal o’ the poetry knocked out o’ you, for it’s not like your mother’s poetry by any means, so you needn’t flatter yourself—­not built on the same lines by a long way.  Well—­where was I?”

“Only got the length of the holiday yet, father.”

“Only, indeed.  You ungrateful dog!  It’s a considerable length to get, that, isn’t it?  Well, I also intend to give you some money, to enable you to move about in this curious archipelago—­not much, but enough to keep you from starvation if used with economy, so I recommend you to go into the town, make general inquiries about everything and everywhere, an’ settle in your mind what you’ll do, for I give you a rovin’ commission an’ don’t want to be bothered with you for some time to come.”

“Are you in earnest, father?” asked Nigel, who had become more interested while the captain unfolded his plan.

“Never more in earnest in my life—­except, p’raps, when I inquired over twenty years ago whether you was a boy or a gurl.”