the smallest articles were clearly
set down. Thanks to the drafts placed at the commander's order, every
article was paid for, cash down, with a discount of eight per cent,
which Richard carefully placed to the credit of K. Z.

Crew, provisions, and outfit were all ready in January, 1860; the
_Forward_ was approaching completion. Shandon never let a day pass
without visiting Birkenhead.

On the morning of the 23d of January he was, as usual, on one of the
double-ended ferry-boats which ply between the two shores of the
Mersey; everything was enveloped in one of the ordinary fogs of that
region, which compel the pilot to steer by compass, although the trip
is one of but ten minutes.

[Illustration: "Everything was enveloped in one of the ordinary fogs
of that region."]

However, the thickness of the fog could not prevent Shandon from
noticing a short, rather stout man, with a refined, agreeable face and
pleasant expression, who came towards him, seized both his hands, and
pressed them with a warmth and familiarity which a Frenchman would
have said was "very southern."

But if this stranger was not from the South, he had escaped it
narrowly; he spoke and gesticulated freely; his thoughts seemed
determined to find expression, even if they had to burst out. His
eyes, small like the eyes of witty men, his large and mobile mouth,
were safety-valves which enabled him to rid himself of too strong a
pressure on his feelings; he talked; and he talked so much and
joyously, that, it must be said, Shandon could not make out what he
was saying.

[Illustration]

Still the mate of the _Forward_ was not slow in recognizing this short
man whom he had never seen; it flashed into his mind, and the moment
that the other stopped to take breath, Shandon uttered these words,--

"Dr. Clawbonny?"

"The same, in person, Commander! For nearly a quarter of an hour I
have been looking after you, asking for you of every one and
everywhere. Imagine my impatience. Five minutes more and I should have
lost my head! So this is you, officer Shandon? You really exist? You
are not a myth? Your hand, your hand! Let me press it again in mine!
Yes, that is indeed the hand of Richard Shandon. Now, if there is a
commander Richard, there is a brig _Forward_ which he commands; and if
he commands it, it will sail; and if it sails, it will take Dr.
Clawbonny on board."

"Well, yes, Doctor, I am Richard Shandon, there is a brig _Forward_,
and it will s