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.
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