Grace glanced fearfully at his face.  When he spoke her name she shrank back, as if she feared what he might say.  But he only smiled as, with the tears streaming down her face, she bent over and kissed him.

“There! there!” he protested.  “You mustn’t cry.  What are you cryin’ about me for?  We know, you and me, who’s been lookin’ out for us and keepin’ us on the course all these years.  We ain’t got anything to cry for.  You just keep on bein’ a ‘good girl, Gracie, and goin’ to the right church and—­I s’pose Ezekiel’ll lead in meetin’ now,” he added.  “I do wish he was a stronger man.”

The doctor, whose fingers had been upon the old man’s wrist, looked up at Nat significantly.

“There, dad,” said the latter, “don’t you worry about Zeke Bassett, nor anything else.  You just lay in dry dock and let Parker here overhaul your runnin’ riggin’ and get you fit for sea.  That’s what you’ve got to do.”

“I’m fit and ready for the sea I’m goin’ to sail,” was the answer.  His eyes wandered from his son to Mrs. Coffin.  For an instant he seemed puzzled.  Then he said: 

“‘Evenin’, Keziah.  I don’t know why you’re here, but—­”

“I heard that Grace was alone and that you was sick, Eben.  So I come right down, to help if I could.”

“Thank ye.  You’re a good-hearted woman, Keziah, even though you ain’t seen the true light yet.  And you’re housekeeper for that hired priest—­a—­a—­” He paused, and a troubled look came over his face.

“What is it, dad?” asked Nat.

“I—­I—­Where’s Gracie?  She’s here, ain’t she?”

“Yes, uncle, I’m here.  Here I am,” said the girl.  His fingers groped for her hand and seized it.

“Yes, yes, you’re here,” murmured Captain Eben.  “I—­I—­for a minute or so, I—­I had an awful dream about you, Gracie.  I dreamed—­Never mind.  Doc, answer me this now, true and honest, man to man:  Can you keep me here for just a little spell longer?  Can you?  Try!  Ten minutes, say.  Can you?”

“Of course I can.  Cap’n Hammond, what are you—­”

“I know.  That’s all right.  But I ain’t a young one to be petted and lied to.  I’m a man.  I’ve sailed ships.  I’ve been on blue water.  I’m goin’ to make port pretty soon, and I know it, but I want to get my decks clear fust, if I can.  Gracie, stand still.  Nat, run alongside where I can see you plainer.  Keziah, you and the doctor stay where you be.  I want you to witness this.”

“Cap’n,” protested Dr. Parker, “if I were you I wouldn’t—­”

“Belay!  Silence there, for’ard!  Nat, you’re my boy, ain’t you?  You set some store by the old man, hey?”

“I—­I guess I do, dad.”

“Yes, I guess you do, too.  You’ve been a pretty good boy; stubborn and pig-headed sometimes, but, take you by and large, pretty good.  And Gracie, you’ve been a mighty good girl.  Never done nothin’ I wouldn’t like, nothin’ mean nor underhand nor—­”