he result that the Commodore expressed much
satisfaction with it, and gave him instructions to repaint the whole
of the stern, including the magnificent board with the inscription
_L'HEUREUSE_ in gilt letters, and the royal arms of France surrounded
with decorations in the flamboyant style.

Thus it happened that, one fine morning in the middle of June, he was
hanging out over the stern in his usual posture, and, having finished
the letters _L'HEU_, took a look around on the brightness of the day
before dipping his brush and starting again. The galley with her
five consorts lay in the Royal Basin under the citadel, and a mile in
from the open sea, towards which the long line of the pier extended,
its tall forts dominating the sand-dunes that stretched away to right
and left. The sands shone; the sea was a silvery blue, edged with a
dazzle where its breakers touched the shore; a clear northerly breeze
came sweeping inland and hummed in the galley's rigging as it flew
by. From the streets of Dunkirk sounded the cheerful bustle of the
morning's business; and as Tristram glanced up at the glistening
spire of the Jesuits' church, its clock struck out eleven o'clock as
merrily as if it played a tune.

It was just at this moment, as he turned to dip his brush, that he
caught sight of a small boat approaching across the basin. It was
rowed by a waterman, and in the stern-sheets there sat a figure the
sight of which caused Tristram's heart to stop beating for a moment,
and then to resume at a gallop. He caught hold of the rope by which
he hung, and looked again.

Beyond a doubt it was his father, Roderick Salt!

Now just as Tristram underwent this shock of surprise, from a point
about three yards above his head another person was watching the boat
with some curiosity. This was the Commodore, M. de la Pailletine,
who stood on the poop with his feet planted wide and his hands
clasped beneath his coat-tails. He was wondering who this visitor
could be.

Captain Salt was elegantly dressed, and the cloak thrown back from
his broad chest revealed a green suit, thick with gold lace, and a
white waistcoat also embroidered with gold. The bullion twinkled in
the sunshine as the boat drew near and, crossing under Tristram's
dangling heels, dropped alongside the galley. And as it passed, the
son, looking straight beneath him, determined in his heart that, bad
as his present plight might be, he would endure it rather than trus