go on shore that evening? He trembled as he
thought of all the formalities which have to be observed when a ship
arrives. The quarantine authorities might raise difficulties, and cause
a delay.

Standing by the side of the captain, he was watching the masts, which
looked as if they were loaded down with all the sails they could carry,
when a cry from the lookout in the bow of the vessel attracted his
attention. That man reported, at two ship's lengths on starboard, a
small boat, like a pilot-boat, making signs of distress. The captain
and Daniel exchanged looks of disappointment. The slightest delay in
the position in which they were, and at a season when night falls so
suddenly, deprived them of all hope of going on shore that night. And
who could tell how long it would take them to go to the rescue of that
boat?

"Well, never mind!" said Daniel. "We have to do it."

"I wish they were in paradise!" swore the captain.

Nevertheless, he ordered all that was necessary to slacken speed, and
then to tack so as to come close upon the little boat.

It was a difficult and tedious manoeuvre; but at last, after half an
hour's work, they could throw a rope into the boat.

There were two men in it, who hastened to come on the deck of the
clipper. One was a sailor of about twenty, the other a man of perhaps
fifty, who looked like a country gentleman, appeared ill at ease, and
cast about him restless glances in all directions. But, whilst they were
hoisting themselves up by the man-rope; the captain of "The Saint Louis"
had had time to examine their boat, and to ascertain that it was in good
condition, and every thing in it in perfect order.

Crimson with wrath, he now seized the young sailor by his collar; and,
shaking him so roughly as nearly to disjoint his neck, he said with a
formidable oath,--

"Are you making fun of me? What wretched joke have you been playing?"

Like their captain, the men on board, also, had discovered the perfect
uselessness of the signals of distress which had excited their sympathy;
and their indignation was great at what they considered a stupid
mystification. They surrounded the sailor with a threatening air,
while he struggled in the captain's hand, and cried in his Marseilles
jargon,--

"Let go! You are smothering me! It is not my fault. It was the gentleman
there, who hired my boat for a sail. I, I would not make the signal;
but"--

Nevertheless, the poor fellow would probably have exp