lowered into the sea, and got into it,
with the sailor Courtois and the helmsman Pierre Nouquet. The
crew watched them until they disappeared in the fog. Night came
on. The sea became more and more boisterous. The "Jeune-Hardie",
drawn by the currents in those parts, was in danger of being
engulfed by the Maelstrom. She was obliged to fly before the
wind. For several days she hovered near the place of the
disaster, but in vain. The long-boat, the schooner, Captain
Louis, and the two sailors did not reappear. Andre Vasling then
called the crew together, took command of the ship, and set sail
for Dunkirk."

After reading this dry narrative, Jean Cornbutte wept for a long
time; and if he had any consolation, it was the thought that his
son had died in attempting to save his fellow-men. Then the poor
father left the ship, the sight of which made him wretched, and
returned to his desolate home.

The sad news soon spread throughout Dunkirk. The many friends of
the old sailor came to bring him their cordial and sincere
sympathy. Then the sailors of the "Jeune-Hardie" gave a more
particular account of the event, and Andre Vasling told Marie, at
great length, of the devotion of her betrothed to the last.

When he ceased weeping, Jean Cornbutte thought over the matter,
and the next day after the ship's arrival, when Andre came to see
him, said,--

"Are you very sure, Andre, that my son has perished?"

"Alas, yes, Monsieur Jean," replied the mate.

"And you made all possible search for him?"

"All, Monsieur Cornbutte. But it is unhappily but too certain
that he and the two sailors were sucked down in the whirlpool of
the Maelstrom."

"Would you like, Andre, to keep the second command of the ship?"

"That will depend upon the captain, Monsieur Cornbutte."

"I shall be the captain," replied the old sailor. "I am going to
discharge the cargo with all speed, make up my crew, and sail in
search of my son."

"Your son is dead!" said Andre obstinately.

"It is possible, Andre," replied Jean Cornbutte sharply, "but it
is also possible that he saved himself. I am going to rummage all
the ports of Norway whither he might have been driven, and when I
am fully convinced that I shall never see him again, I will
return here to die!"

Andre Vasling, seeing that this decision was irrevocable, did not
insist further, but went away.

Jean Cornbutte at once apprised his niece of his intention, and
he saw a few rays of hope glis