has anything bearing the signature of Morrel & Son been dishonored."
"I know that," replied the Englishman. "But as a man of honor should
answer another, tell me fairly, shall you pay these with the same
punctuality?" Morrel shuddered, and looked at the man, who spoke with
more assurance than he had hitherto shown. "To questions frankly put,"
said he, "a straightforward answer should be given. Yes, I shall pay,
if, as I hope, my vessel arrives safely; for its arrival will again
procure me the credit which the numerous accidents, of which I have been
the victim, have deprived me; but if the Pharaon should be lost, and
this last resource be gone"--the poor man's eyes filled with tears.
"Well," said the other, "if this last resource fail you?"
"Well," returned Morrel, "it is a cruel thing to be forced to say, but,
already used to misfortune, I must habituate myself to shame. I fear I
shall be forced to suspend payment."
"Have you no friends who could assist you?" Morrel smiled mournfully.
"In business, sir," said he, "one has no friends, only correspondents."
"It is true," murmured the Englishman; "then you have but one hope."
"But one."
"The last?"
"The last."
"So that if this fail"--
"I am ruined,--completely ruined!"
"As I was on my way here, a vessel was coming into port."
"I know it, sir; a young man, who still adheres to my fallen fortunes,
passes a part of his time in a belvidere at the top of the house, in
hopes of being the first to announce good news to me; he has informed me
of the arrival of this ship."
"And it is not yours?"
"No, she is a Bordeaux vessel, La Gironde; she comes from India also;
but she is not mine."
"Perhaps she has spoken to the Pharaon, and brings you some tidings of
her?"
"Shall I tell you plainly one thing, sir? I dread almost as much to
receive any tidings of my vessel as to remain in doubt. Uncertainty
is still hope." Then in a low voice Morrel added,--"This delay is not
natural. The Pharaon left Calcutta the 5th February; she ought to have
been here a month ago."
"What is that?" said the Englishman. "What is the meaning of that
noise?"
"Oh, oh!" cried Morrel, turning pale, "what is it?" A loud noise was
heard on the stairs of people moving hastily, and half-stifled sobs.
Morrel rose and advanced to the door; but his strength failed him and
he sank into a chair. The two men remained opposite one another, Morrel
trembling in every limb, the stranger gazing at him with an air of
profound pity. The noise had ceased; but it seemed that Morrel expected
something--something had occasioned the noise, and something must
follow. The stranger fancied he heard footsteps on the stairs; and that
the footsteps, which were those of several persons, stopped at the door.
A key was inserted in the lock of the first door, and the creaking of
hinges was audible.
"There are only two persons who have the key to that door," murmured
Morrel, "Cocles and Julie." At this instant the second door opened,
and the young girl, her eyes bathed with tears, appeared. Morrel rose
tremblingly, supporting himself by the arm of the chair. He would have
spoken, but his voice failed him. "Oh, father!" said she, clasping her
hands, "forgive your child for being the bearer of evil tidings."
Morrel again changed color. Julie threw herself into his arms.
"Oh, father, father!" murmured she, "courage!"
"The Pharaon has gone down, then?" said Morrel in a hoarse voice. The
young girl did not speak; but she made an affirmative sign with her head
as she lay on her father's breast.
"And the crew?" asked Morrel.
"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."
"Well done!" said the Englishman.
"There's nothing gives you so much courage as good reasons," continued
the sailor; "and during that time the wind had abated, and the sea gone
down, but the water kept rising; not much, only two inches an hour,
but still it rose. Two inches an hour does not seem much, but in twelve
hours that makes two feet, and three we had before, that makes five.
'Come,' said the captain, 'we have done all in our power, and M. Morrel
will have nothing to reproach us with, we have tried to save the ship,
let us now save ourselves. To the boats, my lads, as quick as you can.'
Now," continued Penelon, "you see, M. Morrel, a sailor is attached to
his ship, but still more to his life, so we did not wait to be told
twice; the more so, that the ship was sinking under us, and seemed to
say, 'Get along--save yourselves.' We soon launched the boat, and all
eight of us got into it. The captain descended last, or rather, he
did not descend, he would not quit the vessel; so I took him round the
waist, and threw him into the boat, and then I jumped after him. It
was time, for just as I jumped the deck burst with a noise like the
broadside of a man-of-war. Ten minutes after she pitched forward, then
the other way, spun round and round, and then good-by to the Pharaon. As
for us, we were three days without anything to eat or drink, so that we
began to think of drawing lots who should feed the rest, when we saw La
Gironde; we made signals of distress, she perceived us, made for us, and
took us all on board. There now, M. Morrel, that's the whole truth, on
the honor of a sailor; is not it true, you fellows there?" A general
murmur of approbation showed that the narrator had faithfully detailed
their misfortunes and sufferings.
"Well, well," said M. Morrel, "I know there was no one in fault but
destiny. It was the will of God that this should happen, blessed be his
name. What wages are due to you?"
"Oh, don't let us talk of that, M. Morrel."
"Yes, but we will talk of it."
"Well, then, three months," said Penelon.
"Cocles, pay two hundred francs to each of these good fellows," said
Morrel. "At another time," added he, "I should have said, Give them,
besides, two hundred francs over as a present; but times are changed,
and the little money that remains to me is not my own."
Penelon turned to his companions, and exchanged a few words with them.
"As for that, M. Morrel," said he, again turning his quid, "as for
that"--
"As for what?"
"The money."
"Well"--
"Well, we all say that fifty francs will be enough for us at present,
and that we will wait for the rest."
"Thanks, my friends, thanks!" cried Morrel gratefully; "take it--take
it; and if you can find another employer, enter his service; you are
free to do so." These last words produced a prodigious effect on the
seaman. Penelon nearly swallowed his quid; fortunately he recovered.
"What, M. Morrel!" said he in a low voice, "you send us away; you are
then angry with us!"
"No, no," said M. Morrel, "I am not angry, quite the contrary, and I do
not send you away; but I have no more ships, and therefore I do not want
any sailors."
"No more ships!" returned Penelon; "well, then, you'll build some; we'll
wait for you."
"I have no money to build ships with, Penelon," said the poor owner
mournfully, "so I cannot accept your kind offer."
"No more money? Then you must not pay us; we can scud, like the Pharaon,
under bare poles."
"Enough, enough!" cried Morrel, almost overpowered; "leave me, I pray
you; we shall meet again in a happier time. Emmanuel, go with them, and
see that my orders are executed."
"At least, we shall see each other again, M. Morrel?" asked Penelon.
"Yes; I hope so, at least. Now go." He made a sign to Cocles, who went
first; the seamen followed him and Emmanuel brought up the rear. "Now,"
said the owner to his wife and daughter, "leave me; I wish to speak with
this gentleman." And he glanced towards the clerk of Thomson & French,
who had remained motionless in the corner during this scene, in which he
had taken no part, except the few words we have mentioned. The two women
looked at this person whose presence they had entirely forgotten, and
retired; but, as she left the apartment, Julie gave the stranger a
supplicating glance, to which he replied by a smile that an indifferent
spectator would have been surprised to see on his stern features. The
two men were left alone. "Well, sir," said Morrel, sinking into a chair,
"you have heard all, and I have nothing further to tell you."
"I see," returned the Englishman, "that a fresh and unmerited misfortune
