“He _mustn’t_ wake him up!” said Filhiol. He turned, and, hobbling on his cane, started for the front door to head him off. Too late! Already Hal had flung off his cap and, stamping wet feet, had entered the cabin. The voice of the captain sounded:
“Oh, that you, Hal? God above! but I’m glad to see you! Come here, boy, come here. I’ve got news for you. Great, good news!”
Still in his dripping raincoat, Hal approached the berth.
“Whew, but it’s hot and stifling in here, gramp!” said he. He turned and opened a window, letting the damp, chill wind draw through. “There, that’s better now. Well, what’s the big news, eh?”
The old captain regarded him a moment, deeply moved. In the dining-room, Ezra had hastily stuffed the bills into his pocket. Now he was retreating to his galley. Filhiol, undecided what to do, did nothing; but remained in the front hall.
“What’s the news?” repeated Hal. He looked disheveled, excited. “And what are _you_ in bed for, this time of day?”
His voice betrayed nothing save curiosity. No sympathy softened it.
“The doctor made me turn in,” Briggs explained. “I got wet through, going to town. But it was all for you, boy. So why should _I_ mind?”
“For me, eh?” demanded Hal. “More trouble? Enough storm outside, without kicking up any more rows inside. Some weather, gramp! Some sailing weather, once a boat got out past the breakwater, where she could make her manners to the nor’east blow!” His tongue seemed a trifle thick, but the captain perceived nothing. “Well, gramp, what was the idea of going to town an afternoon like this?”
“To set you on the right road again, boy.” The captain raised himself on one elbow, and peered at his beloved Hal. “To open up a better career for you than _I_ had. No more sea-life, Hal. There’s been far too much salt in our blood for generations. It’s time the Briggs family came ashore. You’ve got better things ahead of you, now, than fighting the sea. Peel your wet coat off, Hal, and sit down. You’ll take cold, I’m afraid.”
“Cold, nothing! This is the kind of weather I like!”
He pulled up a chair by the berth, and flung himself down into it, hulking, rude, flushed. In the dim light old Captain Briggs did not see that telltale flush of drink. He did not note the sinister exultation in his grandson’s voice. Nor did he understand the look of Hal’s searching eyes that tried to fathom whether the old man as yet had any suspicions of the robbery.