l as middle-aged sailors were shouting out farewells. White and black
men were running to and fro, laughing, chaffing, and swearing at each
other.

There lay the East Indiaman, with her foreign flag as well as that of
her country. She had come in about midnight and at early dawn
preliminaries had begun. Captain Corwin had been ashore a time or two,
looking up and down amid the motley throng, and now he touched his hat
and nodded to Chilian Leverett, who picked his way over to him.

"We are somewhat late," he began apologetically. "A little due to rough
weather, but one can never fix an exact date."

"All is well, I hope;" in an anxious tone.

"Yes; the child proved a good sailor and was much interested in
everything. I was afraid she would take it hard. But she is counting on
her father's coming. I don't know how you will ever console her when she
learns the truth."

"And he----" Chilian looked intently into the captain's eyes.

"I suppose the end has come before this. They thought he might last a
month when we left. It's sad enough. He should have lived to be ninety.
But matters went well with him, and he has been an honest, kindly,
upright man with a large heart. I've lost my best friend and adviser."

The captain drew his rough coat-sleeve across his face and looked past
Chilian, winking hard.

"There's a sight of business when we come to that, Mr. Leverett, but
now--will you go on board? The maid is a most excellent and sensible
person. They are in the cabin."

"Yes," he answered and followed with a curious throb at his heart--pity
for the orphaned child and a sense of responsibility he was conscious
that he accepted unwillingly, yet he would do his duty to the uttermost.

Already some officials were on hand, for at this period Salem was really
a notable port. Chilian passed them with a bow, followed the captain
down the gangplank, stared a little at the foreign deck-hands in their
odd habiliments, stepped over boxes and bales in canvas and matting full
of Oriental fragrance that from the closeness was almost stifling,
coming from the clear air. Then he was ushered into the cabin, that was
replete with Orientalism as well.

A rather tall woman rose to meet him.

"This is Mistress Rachel Winn, who has mothered the little girl for
several years, Mr. Leverett, her relative and guardian,
and--Cynthia----"

The child threw herself down on the couch.

"I want to go back home. I want to see my father, and