Chapter XVI · OLD JACK SEES A REMEMBERED FACE.

One evening, when Ralph went into the forecastle, he found Jack alone there. The old sailor had just been overhauling his sea-chest, and had in his hand the baby’s shoe which he had so long carried for good luck.

“I was just looking at it,” he said, “because to-day I came across the father of that identical baby. I hadn’t seen him for about sixteen years, but I knew him in a minute. He was puffing his cigar, just as he used to do about the decks of the Moro Castle.”

“What!” exclaimed Ralph, “the very man? Oh, how I wish I had been with you! Who is he, and where does he live?”

“That I don’t know,” replied Jack. “Of course, he didn’t know me, and I hadn’t a very good chance to introduce myself. He was jabbering with a lot of other Spaniards on a corner, with his caramba and his como esta usted, so that I didn’t feel like going up to him with a yarn about a baby’s shoe. Which way he went I don’t know, for I had to get back to the ship.”

“When was it?” asked Ralph, with great earnestness.

“It was while I was ashore this noon.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” said the boy. “I would have gone right ashore. But, no—I couldn’t have found him without you. Dear me! I wish I could have been with you.”

“Why, my lad, it’s of no consequence,” said Jack. “You seem to think more of it than I do.”

“But I want to see him,” replied Ralph. “I wonder if he is about here every day?”

“Likely enough,” said Jack. “But I didn’t think you cared anything about the matter.”

“Well, I’m thinking of that baby’s shoe,” answered Ralph. “It seems so queer—the way you got it, and the way you have kept it.”

“I know that’s odd,” said Jack. “I suppose my keeping it is all nonsense.”

“No, it isn’t,” said Ralph. “I don’t think it is, I’m sure.”

“You believe a little in old shoes, then?”

“I believe in that shoe, Jack. I mean to go ashore with you, and have a good look for that man.”

“But we shouldn’t stand much chance of finding him,” replied Jack. “I’ve been here in Santiago a number of times, but this is the first time I have run across him here.”

Ralph looked anxious and excited; but he saw that Jack felt somewhat surprised at the interest he took in the matter, and so restrained himself.

“After all,” he thought, “it may have nothing to do with me. Just a baby on its passage to the United States. But, then, it was going to Philadelphia, and it was a boy baby; and I must have been a baby at the same time. I wonder what Jack would say if he knew what I am thinking of?”

It would be strange, he thought, if he were really to get track of himself in such a way—the first of the tracks being made by that tiny shoe in Jack’s chest. And then he reflected how improbable it seemed, when there were so many babies in the world, that he should have been that baby.

“I almost hope the thing will never come to light,” he said to himself. “Perhaps it is better not to know.”

[TO BE CONTINUED.]