"My Beloved Son,--I forgive you. You have sinned deeply in thus leaving
me; but I know that you have repented. I know that your own conscience
has rebuked you more sternly than any earthly parent could do. You
cannot now recall the past--you cannot undo what you have done; you must
now continue your voyage, and, in order to relieve your oppressed heart,
I give you my blessing. I commend you, my dear boy, to Him who is the
Saviour of sinners.
"Beware of the captain. Obey him in all that is right, but do not serve
him. Again, I say, beware of him. There are secrets concerning him
that I cannot unfold. I have just been to see Jack's mother. She sends
her forgiveness and blessing to her son. God bless you, boy.--Your
loving father,
"John Smith."
My father understood human nature. No reproaches that he could have
heaped upon me would have cut half so deeply into my heart as did this
kind, forgiving letter. My heart was full. Yet I felt a deep
undercurrent of joy at knowing that my father loved me still. I looked
at Jack. He seemed to be asleep, but he was not. A single tear coursed
over his pale cheek as he looked up and whispered--
"We don't deserve this, Bob."
Before I could reply, the ship was shaken by a tremendous explosion, and
immediately after I heard the most appalling shrieks and yells on deck,
accompanied by the clashing of swords and the scuffling of men in deadly
conflict. I looked at Jack; he lay motionless, with his eyes closed.
For a moment I feared that he was dead.
"Bob Smith! Hallo! tumble up there, you skulker!" shouted a voice down
the hatchway. At the same moment two wounded men were carried into the
place, and the surgeon appeared with his horrible instruments
glittering, cold and sharp, on a wooden tray.
Seizing my cutlass, and thrusting a brace of pistols in my belt, I
rushed on deck.