"Saved," said the girl; "saved by the crew of the vessel
that has just entered the harbor." Morrel raised his two
hands to heaven with an expression of resignation and
sublime gratitude. "Thanks, my God," said he, "at least thou
strikest but me alone." A tear moistened the eye of the
phlegmatic Englishman.

"Come in, come in," said Morrel, "for I presume you are all
at the door."

Scarcely had he uttered those words than Madame Morrel
entered weeping bitterly. Emmanuel followed her, and in the
antechamber were visible the rough faces of seven or eight
half-naked sailors. At the sight of these men the Englishman
started and advanced a step; then restrained himself, and
retired into the farthest and most obscure corner of the
apartment. Madame Morrel sat down by her husband and took
one of his hands in hers, Julie still lay with her head on
his shoulder, Emmanuel stood in the centre of the chamber
and seemed to form the link between Morrel's family and the
sailors at the door.

"How did this happen?" said Morrel.

"Draw nearer, Penelon," said the young man, "and tell us all
about it."

An old seaman, bronzed by the tropical sun, advanced,
twirling the remains of a tarpaulin between his hands.
"Good-day, M. Morrel," said he, as if he had just quitted
Marseilles the previous evening, and had just returned from
Aix or Toulon.

"Good-day, Penelon," returned Morrel, who could not refrain
from smiling through his tears, "where is the captain?"

"The captain, M. Morrel, -- he has stayed behind sick at
Palma; but please God, it won't be much, and you will see
him in a few days all alive and hearty."

"Well, now tell your story, Penelon."

Penelon rolled his quid in his cheek, placed his hand before
his mouth, turned his head, and sent a long jet of
tobacco-juice into the antechamber, advanced his foot,
balanced himself, and began, -- "You see, M. Morrel," said
he, "we were somewhere between Cape Blanc and Cape Boyador,
sailing with a fair breeze, south-south-west after a week's
calm, when Captain Gaumard comes up to me -- I was at the
helm I should tell you -- and says, `Penelon, what do you
think of those clouds coming up over there?' I was just then
looking at them myself. `What do I think, captain? Why I
think that they are rising faster than they have any
business to do, and that they would not be so black if they
didn't mean mischief.' -- `That's my opinion too,' said the
captain, `and I'll take precautions accordingly. We are
carrying too much canvas. Avast, there, all hands! Take in
the studding-sl's and stow the flying jib.' It was time; the
squall was on us, and the vessel began to heel. `Ah,' said
the captain, `we have still too much canvas set; all hands
lower the mains'l!' Five minutes after, it was down; and we
sailed under mizzen-tops'ls and to'gall'nt sails. `Well,
Penelon,' said the captain, `what makes you shake your
head?' `Why,' I says, `I still think you've got too much
on.' `I think you're right,' answered he, `we shall have a
gale.' `A gale? More than that, we shall have a tempest, or
I don't know what's what.' You could see the wind coming
like the dust at Montredon; luckily the captain understood
his business. `Take in two reefs in the tops'ls,' cried the
captain; `let go the bowlin's, haul the brace, lower the
to'gall'nt sails, haul out the reef-tackles on the yards.'"

"That was not enough for those latitudes," said the
Englishman; "I should have taken four reefs in the topsails
and furled the spanker."

His firm, sonorous, and unexpected voice made every one
start. Penelon put his hand over his eyes, and then stared
at the man who thus criticized the manoeuvres of his
captain. "We did better than that, sir," said the old sailor
respectfully; "we put the helm up to run before the tempest;
ten minutes after we struck our tops'ls and scudded under
bare poles."

"The vessel was very old to risk that," said the Englishman.

"Eh, it was that that did the business; after pitching
heavily for twelve hours we sprung a leak. `Penelon,' said
the captain, `I think we are sinking, give me the helm, and
go down into the hold.' I gave him the helm, and descended;
there was already three feet of water. `All hands to the
pumps!' I shouted; but it was too late, and it seemed the
more we pumped the more came in. `Ah,' said I, after four
hours' work, `since we are sinking, let us sink; we can die
but once.' `That's the example you set, Penelon,' cries the
captain; `very well, wait a minute.' He went into his cabin
and came back with a brace of pistols. `I will blow the
brains out of the first man who leaves the pump,' said he."



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