"I fear that Henry is gone."
Gascoyne started as if a sword had pierced him. For one moment he
looked fiercely in the young captain's face; then an expression of the
deepest sadness overspread his countenance as he said--
"Do you think there is no hope?"
"None," said Montague. "I grieve to give pain to one who seems to have
been an intimate friend of the lad."
"He was the son of my oldest and best friend. What would you advise,
Mr Montague?"
"I think--that is to say, don't _you_ think--that it would be as well to
put about now?"
Gascoyne's head dropped on his chest, and for some moments he stood
speechless, while his strong hands played nervously with the tiller that
they had held so long and so firmly. At last he looked up and said, in
a low voice--"I resign the schooner into your hands, Mr Montague."
Then he went slowly below, and shut himself up in his cabin.
Montague at once put down the helm, and, pointing the schooner's prow
northward, steered for the harbour of Sandy Cove.