A letter with a great black seal! I knew then what had happened as well as I know it now.

But which was it, father or mother?
I do not like to look back to the agony and suspense of that moment.
My father had died at New Orleans during one of his weekly visits to the city.

The letter bearing these tidings had reached Rivermouth the evening of my flight--had passed me on the road by the down train.
I must turn back for a moment to that eventful evening.

When I failed to make my appearance at supper, the Captain began to suspect that I had really started on my wild tour southward--a conjecture which Sailor Ben's absence helped to confirm.

I had evidently got off by the train and Sailor Ben had followed me.
There was no telegraphic communication between Boston and Rivermouth in those days; so my grandfather could do nothing but await the result.
Even if there had been another mail to Boston, he could not have availed himself of it, not knowing how to address a message to the fugitives.
The post-office was naturally the last place either I or the Admiral would think of visiting.
My grandfather, however, was too full of trouble to allow this to add to his distress.