voyage,
brute of a pig-faced Rento! Good voyage, old 'Nautilus!' Go all to the
bottom with my blessing, and I dance on the wharf, and marry the pretty
Lena, and get all the old miser's money, and wear velvet coats. Ah!
Franci, my handsome little boy, why did you let them send you to sea,
hearts of stone that they were! You, born to shine, to adorn, to break
the hearts of maidens! Why? tell me that!" He waved his legs in the air,
and contemplated with delight their proportions, which were certainly
exquisite. "Caramba!" he murmured; "beauty, that is it! Otherwise one
might better be a swine,--yes, truly!"

At this point, perhaps, Rento appeared, rubbing his eyes, evidently
just awake, and ready to take his watch; whereupon the beautiful one sat
up, and, fixing his eyes on his fellow-seaman, executed a series of
grimaces which did great credit to his invention and power of facial
expression. Then he delivered himself of an harangue in purest Spanish,
to the effect that the day was not far distant when he, Franci, would
slit Rento's nose with a knife, and carve his initials on his cheeks,
and finally run him through the so detestable body and give him to the
fish to devour, though with strong fears of his disagreeing with them.
To which Rento replied that he might try it just as soon as he was a
mind to, but that at this present moment he was to get out; which the
beautiful youth accordingly did, retiring with a dancing step,
expressive of scorn and disgust.

On one such night as this the scene in the little cabin was a curious
one. A lamp burned brightly on the table, and its lights shone on a
number of objects, some lying openly on the green table-cover, some
reclining superbly in velvet-lined cases. Shells! Yes, but not such
shells as were heaped in profusion on shelf and counter. Those were
lovely, indeed, and some of them of considerable value; but it was a
fortune, no less, that lay now spread before the eyes of the Skipper and
his guest. For these were the days when fine shells could not be bought
on every hand, as they can to-day; when a good specimen of the Imperial
Harp brought two hundred and fifty dollars easily, and when a collector
would give anything, even to the half of his kingdom (if he were a
collector of the right sort), for a Precious Wentletrap.

[Illustration]

It was a Wentletrap on which the little red eyes of Mr. Endymion
Scraper were fixed at this moment. The morocco case in which it lay was