Doctor Thayer was short in stature, massively built, with the head and trunk of some ancient Vulcan.  His heavy, large features had a rugged nobility, like that of the mountains.  His face was smooth-shaven, ruddy-brown, and deeply marked with lines of care; but most salient of all his features was the massively molded chin and jaw.  His lips, too, were thick and full, without giving the least impression of grossness; and when he was thinking, he had a habit of thrusting his under jaw slightly forward, which made him look much fiercer than he ever felt.  Thin white hair covered his temples and grew in a straggling fringe around the back of his head, upon which he wore a broad-brimmed soft black hat.

Doctor Thayer would have been noticeable, a man of distinction, anywhere; and yet here he was, with his worn satchel and his old-fashioned clothes, traveling year after year over the country-side to the relief of farmers and fishermen.  He knew his science, too.  It never occurred to him to doubt whether his sphere was large enough for him.

“I haven’t found out yet where we are, or to what place we are going.  Will you tell me, sir?” asked Agatha.

“You came ashore near Ram’s Head, one of the worst reefs on the coast of Maine; and we’re heading now for Charlesport; that’s over yonder, beyond that next point,” Doctor Thayer answered.  After a moment he added:  “I know nothing about your misfortunes, but I assume that you capsized in some pesky boat or other.  When you get good and ready, you can tell me all about it.  In the meantime, what is your name, young woman?”

The doctor turned his searching blue eyes toward Agatha again, a courteous but eager inquiry underneath his brusque manner.

“It is a strange story, Doctor Thayer,” said Agatha somewhat reluctantly; “but some time you shall hear it.  I must tell it to somebody, for I need help.  My name is Agatha Redmond, and I am from New York; and this gentleman is James Hambleton of Lynn—­so he told me.  He risked his life to save mine, after we had abandoned the ship.”

“I don’t doubt it,” said Doctor Thayer gruffly.  “Some blind dash into the future is the privilege of youth.  That’s why it’s all recklessness and foolishness.”

Agatha looked at him keenly, struck by some subtle irony in his voice.  “I think it is what you yourself would have done, sir,” she said.

The doctor thrust out his chin in his disconcerting way, and gave not the least smile; but his small blue eyes twinkled.

“My business is to see just where I’m going and to know exactly what I’m doing,” was the dry answer.  He turned a watchful look toward James, lying still there between them; then he knelt down, putting an ear over the patient’s heart.

“All right!” he assured her as he came up.  “But we never know how those organs are going to act.”  Satisfying himself further in regard to James, he waited some time before he addressed Agatha again.  Then he said, very deliberately:  “The ocean is a savage enemy.  My brother Hercules used to quote that old Greek philosopher who said, ’Praise the sea, but keep on land.’  And sometimes I think he was right.”