A dog ran up and down her decks barking, and a couple of squat
figures leaned over the bulwarks gazing stolidly ashore.
There was something about the vessel which took his fancy, and he stood
for some time on the edge of the quay, looking at her. In a day or two
she would sail for a voyage the length of which would depend upon her
success; a voyage which would for a long period keep all on board of her
out of the mischief which so easily happens ashore. If only Jack----
He started and stared more intently than before. He was not an
imaginative man, but he had in his mind's eye a sudden vision of his only
son waving farewells from the deck of the whaler as she emerged from the
harbour into the open sea, while Amelia Kybird tore her yellow locks
ashore. It was a vision to cheer any self-respecting father's heart, and
he brought his mind back with some regret to the reality of the anchored
ship.
He walked home slowly. At the Kybirds' door the proprietor, smoking a
short clay pipe, eyed him with furtive glee as he passed. Farther along
the road the Hardys, father and son, stepped briskly together.
Altogether a trying walk, and calculated to make him more dissatisfied
than ever with the present state of affairs. When his daughter shook her
head at him and accused him of going off on a solitary frolic his stock
of patience gave out entirely.
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