"I—I think so, father," spoke the boy, softly. "I—I have been looking for you a long time."
"And I have, too, Joe; yes, you are my boy. I can see it now. Oh, the dear Lord be praised!" and there was moisture in his eyes that was not the salt from the raging sea.
"But—but," went on Joe. "I thought you went to China. I wrote to you at Hong Kong."
"I did start for there, Joe; but the vessel on which I sailed was wrecked, and this craft, bound back for San Francisco, picked us up. So I didn't get very far. Oh, but I have found my boy!"
The others drew a little aside while father and son, so strangely restored to each other by the fury of the sea, clasped each other close.
"Now, friends," said Mr. Ringold, bustling up; those of you who are wet through had better let us take care of you. We have room for you all, and I'll send word to any of your friends if you'll give me the addresses. Your wreck, in a way, has been a great thing for me, for I have obtained some wonderful moving pictures of it and this rescue. It will make a great drama. So I want to help you all I can."
By this time the captain of the vessel had been revived and with his wife and crew was taken to the theatrical boarding place, where the women busied themselves getting warm drinks and food,
