And as it passed, the son, looking straight beneath him, determined in his heart that, bad as his present plight might be, he would endure it rather than trust himself in his father's hands again.

The Captain stepped briskly up the ladder and gained the galley's deck.

He had given the young man a glance and no more.

It was not wonderful that he had failed to recognise in the young _forcat_ with the shaven head and rough, stubbly beard the son whom he had abandoned more than a month before.
Besides, he was busy composing in his mind an introductory speech to be let off on M.de la Pailletine, in whose manner of receiving him he anticipated some little frigidity.
However, he stepped on deck and advanced towards the officer on the poop with a pleasant smile, doffing his laced hat with one hand and holding forward a letter in the other.

M.de la Pailletine took his hands from beneath his coat-tails and also advanced, returning the salute very politely.
"The Commodore de la Pailletine, I believe ?" "The same, monsieur." The two gentlemen regarded each other narrowly for an instant; then, still smiling, Captain Salt presented his letter, and stood tapping the deck with the toe of his square-pointed shoe and looking amiably about him while the Commodore glanced at the seal, broke it, and began to read.
At the first sentence the muscles of M.de la Pailletine's forehead contracted slightly.
"Just as I expected," said the Englishman to himself, as he stole a glance.