that was of less
consequence. Anyhow, she was an old vessel, and now the captain would
get a new ship--a fine one, full rigged, with new sails as white as
snow; and on his next voyage he would take him, the boy John, in place
of the faithless mate, and they would sail away, away, down the river
and far across the ocean, and then,--then he would hear the sound of the
sea. After all, you never could hear it in the river, though that was,
oh, so much better than nothing! But the things that the shells meant
when they whispered, the things that the wind said over and over in the
pine trees, those things you never could know until you heard the real
sound of the real sea.

The child rose and stretched himself wearily. He had had a happy time,
but it was over now; he must leave the water, which he cared more for
than for anything in the world,--must leave the water and go back to the
small close house, and go to bed, and dream no more dreams. Ah! when
would some one come,--no play hero, but a real one, in a white-sailed
ship, and carry him off, never to set foot on shore again?

He turned to go, for the shadows were falling, and already a fog had
crept up the river, almost hiding the brown, swiftly-flowing water; yet
before leaving the wharf he turned back once more and looked up and
down, with eyes that strove to pierce the fog veil,--eager, longing eyes
of a child, who hopes every moment to see the doors open into
fairy-land.

And lo! what was this that he saw? What was this that came gliding
slowly, silently out of the dusk, out of the whiteness, itself whiter
than the river fog, more shadowy than the films of twilight? The child
held his breath, and his heart beat fast, fast. A vessel, or the ghost
of a vessel? Nearer and nearer it came, and now he could see masts and
spars, sails spread to catch the faint breeze, gleaming brass-work about
the decks. A vessel, surely; yet,--what was that? The fog lifted for a
moment, or else his eyes grew better used to the dimness, and he saw a
strange thing. On the prow of the vessel, which now was seen to be a
schooner, stood a figure; a statue, was it? Surely it was a statue of
bronze, like the Soldiers' Monument, leaning against the mast, with
folded arms.

Nearer! Fear seized the boy, for he thought the statue had eyes like
real eyes, and he saw them move, as if looking from right to left; the
whites glistened, the dark balls rolled from side to side. The child
stood still, fe