small table with a carafe and glass before him, mopping his bald head in
the heat.

"You've got them at last, then," he said, as the mate laid the packet on
the table before him, and retired a few paces while he opened it.

Almost the first letter that caught his eye was one to himself from his
son, and his face brightened. He ran rapidly over the others, making a
comment here and there according as he was acquainted with the
circumstances of the men to whom they were addressed, and gathering them
up in a bundle, handed them over then to the mate, with a cheery "Here
you are, Mr. Johnson--letters for every one, from wives and sweethearts,
and I don't know whom besides."

The news that the post had come had spread like wildfire over the ship,
and by the time the mate began to call out the addresses by the main
hatch, the whole crew were assembled, with the exception of a straggler
or two who had happened to be aloft, and who were now to be seen
hurrying down the ratlines.

The only one who neither expected news, nor cared apparently whether he
received a letter or not, was Salvé Kristiansen. While the parcel was
being distributed, he remained standing by the wheel, intent apparently
upon watching the movements of the two men who were hoisting up and
making fast the jolly-boat. His lips were compressed; and when he gave
the men a hand now and then, it was not a very willing one, and was
generally accompanied by some bitter or sarcastic remark. His nature
since they last sailed from Arendal seemed to have turned to gall; and
when the captain had casually mentioned in his letter home that he was
not so well satisfied with him, he had had good reason for saying so.