The night had come to an end. The new-born day waited for itsquickening light in the silence that is never known on land--thesilence before sunrise, in a calm at sea.

Not a breath came from the dead air. Not a ripple stirred on themotionless water. Nothing changed but the softly-growing light;nothing moved but the lazy mist, curling up to meet the sun, itsmaster, on the eastward sea. By fine gradations, the airy veil ofmorning thinned in substance as it rose--thinned, till theredawned through it in the first rays of sunlight the tall whitesails of a Schooner Yacht.

From stem to stern silence possessed the vessel--as silencepossessed the sea.

But one living creature was on deck--the man at the helm, dozingpeaceably with his arm over the useless tiller. Minute by minutethe light grew, and the heat grew with it; and still the helmsmanslumbered, the heavy sails hung noiseless, the quiet water laysleeping against the vessel's sides. The whole orb of the sun wasvisible above the water-line, when the first sound pierced itsway through the morning silence. From far off over the shiningwhite ocean, the cry of a sea-bird reached the yacht on a suddenout of the last airy circles of the waning mist.

The sleeper at the helm woke; looked up at the idle sails, andyawned in sympathy with them; looked out at the sea on eitherside of him, and shook his head obstinately at the superiorobstinacy of the calm.

"Blow, my little breeze!" said the man, whistling the sailor'sinvocation to the wind softly between his teeth. "Blow, my littlebreeze!"

"How's her head?" cried a bold and brassy voice, hailing the deckfrom the cabin staircase.

"Anywhere you like, master; all round the compass."

The voice was followed by the man. The owner of the yachtappeared on deck.

Behold Richard Turlington, Esq., of the great Levant firm ofPizzituti, Turlington & Branca! Aged eight-and-thirty; standingstiffly and sturdily at a height of not more than five feet six--Mr. Turlington presented to the view of his fellow-creatures aface of the perpendicular order of human architecture. Hisforehead was a straight line, his upper lip was another, his chinwas the straightest and the longest line of all. As he turned hisswarthy countenance eastward, and shaded his light gray eyes fromthe sun, his knotty hand plainly revealed that it had got him hisliving by its own labor at one time or another in his life. Takenon the whole, this was a man whom it might be easy to respect,but whom it would be hard to love. Better company at the officialdesk than at the social table. Morally and physically--if theexpression may be permitted--a man without a bend in him.

"A calm yesterday," grumbled Richard Turlington, looking withstubborn deliberation all round him. "And a calm to-day. Ha! nextseason I'll have the vessel fitted with engines. I hate this!"

"Think of the filthy coals, and the infernal vibration, and leaveyour beautiful schooner as she is. We are out for a holiday. Letthe wind and the sea take a holiday too."

Pronouncing those words of remonstrance, a slim, nimble, curly-headed young gentleman joined Richard Turlington on deck, withhis clothes under his arm, his towels in his hand, and nothing onhim but the night-gown in which he had stepped out of his bed.

"Launcelot Linzie, you have been received on board my vessel inthe capacity of medical attendant on Miss Natalie Graybrooke, ather father's request. Keep your place, if you please. When I wantyour advice, I'll ask you for it." Answering in those terms, theelder man fixed his colorless gray eyes on the younger with anexpression which added plainly, "There won't be room enough inthis schooner much longer for me and for you."

Launcelot Linzie had his reasons (apparently) for declining tolet his host offend him on any terms whatever.

"Thank you!" he rejoined, in a tone of satirical good humor. "Itisn't easy to keep my place on board your vessel. I can't helppresuming to enjoy myself as if I was the owner. The life is sucha new one--to _me!>/I> It's so delightfully easy, for instance,to wash yourself here. On shore it's a complicated question ofjugs and basins and tubs; one is always in danger of breakingsomething, or spoiling something. Here you have only to jump outof bed, to run up on deck, and to do this!"

He turned, and scampered to the bows of the vessel. In oneinstant he was out of his night-gown, in another he was on thebulwark, in a third he was gamboling luxuriously in sixty fathomsof salt-water.

Turlington's eyes followed him with a reluctant, uneasy attentionas he swam round the vessel, the only moving object in view.Turlington's mind, steady and slow in all its operations, set hima problem to be solved, on given conditions, as follows:

"Launcelot Linzie is fifteen years younger than I am. Add tothat, Launcelot Linzie is Natalie Graybrooke's cousin. Giventhose two advantages--Query: Has he taken Natalie's fancy?"

Turning that question slowly over and over in his mind, RichardTurlington seated himself in a corner at the stern of the vessel.He was still at work on the problem, when the young surgeonreturned to his cabin to put the finishing touches to his toilet.He had not reached the solution when the steward appeared an hourlater and said, "Breakfast is ready, sir!"

They were a party of five round the cabin table.

First, Sir Joseph Graybrooke. Inheritor of a handsome fortunemade by his father and his grandfather in trade. Mayor, twiceelected, of a thriving provincial town. Officially privileged,while holding that dignity, to hand a silver trowel to a royalpersonage condescending to lay a first stone of a charitableedifice. Knighted, accordingly, in honor of the occasion. Worthyof the honor and worthy of the occasion. A type of his eminentlyrespectable class. Possessed of an amiable, rosy face, and soft,silky white hair. Sound in his principles; tidy in his dress;blessed with moderate politics and a good digestion--a harmless,healthy, spruce, speckless, weak-minded old man.

Secondly, Miss Lavinia Graybrooke, Sir Joseph's maiden sister.Personally, Sir Joseph in petticoats. If you knew one you knewthe other.

Thirdly, Miss Natalie Graybrooke--Sir Joseph's only child.

She had inherited the personal appearance and the temperament ofher mother--dead many years since. There had been a mixture ofNegro blood and French blood in the late Lady Graybrooke'sfamily, settled originally in Martinique. Natalie had hermother's warm dusky color, her mother's superb black hair, andher mother's melting, lazy, lovely brown eyes. At fifteen yearsof age (dating from her last birthday) she possessed thedevelopment of the bosom and limbs which in England is rarelyattained before twenty. Everything about the girl--except herlittle rosy ears--was on a grand Amazonian scale. Her shapelyhand was long and large; her supple waist was the waist of awoman. The indolent grace of all her movements had its motivepower in an almost masculine firmness of action and profusion ofphysical resource. This remarkable bodily development was farfrom being accompanied by any corresponding development ofcharacter. Natalie's manner was the gentle, innocent manner of ayoung girl. She had her father's sweet temper ingrafted on hermother's variable Southern nature. She moved like a goddess, andshe laughed like a child. Signs of maturing too rapidly--ofoutgrowing her strength, as the phr ase went--had made theirappearance in Sir Joseph's daughter during the spring. The familydoctor had suggested a sea-voyage, as a wise manner of employingthe fine summer months. Richard Turlington's yacht was placed ather disposal, with Richard Turlington himself included as one ofthe fixtures of the vessel. With her father and her aunt to keepup round her the atmosphere of home--with Cousin Launcelot (morecommonly known as "Launce") to carry out, if necessary, themedical treatment prescribed by superior authority on shore--thelovely invalid embarked on her summer cruise, and sprang up intoa new existence in the life-giving breezes of the sea. After twohappy months of lazy coasting round the shores of England, allthat remained of Natalie's illness was represented by a deliciouslanguor in her eyes, and an utter inability to devote herself toanything which took the shape of a serious occupation. As she satat the cabin breakfast-table that morning, in her quaintly-madesailing dress of old-fashioned nankeen--her inbred childishnessof manner contrasting delightfully with the blooming maturity ofher form--the man must have been trebly armed indeed in themodern philosophy who could have denied that the first of awoman's rights is the right of being beautiful; and the foremostof a woman's merits, the merit of being young!

The other two persons present at the table were the two gentlemenwho have already appeared on the deck of the yacht.

"Not a breath of wind stirring!" said Richard Turlington. "Theweather has got a grudge against us. We have drifted about fouror five miles in the last eight-and-forty hours. You will nevertake another cruise with me--you must be longing to get onshore."

He addressed himself to Natalie; plainly eager to make himselfagreeable to the young lady--and plainly unsuccessful inproducing any impression on her. She made a civil answer; andlooked at her tea-cup, instead of looking at Richard Turlington.

"You might fancy yourself on shore at this moment," said Launce."The vessel is as steady as a house, and the swing-table we areeating our breakfast on is as even as your dining-room table athome."

He too addressed himself to Natalie, but without betraying theanxiety to please her which had been shown by the other. For allthat, _he_ diverted the girl's attention from her tea-cup; and_his_ idea instantly awakened a responsive idea in Natalie'smind.

"It will be so strange on shore," she said, "to find myself in aroom that never turns on one side, and to sit at a table thatnever tilts down to my knees at one time, or rises up to my chinat another. How I shall miss the wash of the water at my ear, andthe ring of the bell on deck. when I am awake at night on land!No interest there in how the wind blows, or how the sails areset. No asking your way of the sun, when you are lost, with alittle brass instrument and a morsel of pencil and paper. Nodelightful wandering wherever the wind takes you, without theworry of planning beforehand where you are to go. Oh how I shallmiss the dear, changeable, inconstant sea! And how sorry I am I'mnot a man and a sailor!"

This to the guest admitted on board on sufferance, and not oneword of it addressed, even by chance, to the owner of the yacht!

Richard Turlington's heavy eyebrows contracted with anunmistakable expression of pain.

"If this calm weather holds," he went on, addressing himself toSir Joseph, "I am afraid, Graybrooke, I shall not be able tobring you back to the port we sailed from by the end of theweek."

"Whenever you like, Richard," answered the old gentleman,resignedly. "Any time will do for me."

"Any time within reasonable limits, Joseph," said Miss Lavinia,evidently feeling that her brother was conceding too much. Shespoke with Sir Joseph's amiable smile and Sir Joseph's softly-pitched voice. Two twin babies could hardly have been more likeone another.

While these few words were being exchanged among the elders, aprivate communication was in course of progress between the twoyoung people under the cabin table. Natalie's smartly-slipperedfoot felt its way cautiously inch by inch over the carpet till ittouched Launce's boot. Launce, devouring his breakfast, instantlylooked up from his plate, and then, at a second touch fromNatalie, looked down again in a violent hurry. After pausing tomake sure that she was not noticed, Natalie took up her knife.Under a perfectly-acted pretense of toying with it absently, inthe character of a young lady absorbed in thought, she begandividing a morsel of ham left on the edge of her plate, into sixtiny pieces. Launce's eye looked in sidelong expectation at thedivided and subdivided ham. He was evidently waiting to see thecollection of morsels put to some telegraphic use, previouslydetermined on between his neighbor and himself.

In the meanwhile the talk proceeded among the other persons atthe breakfast-table. Miss Lavinia addressed herself to Launce.

"Do you know, you careless boy, you gave me a fright thismorning? I was sleeping with my cabin window open, and I wasawoke by an awful splash in the water. I called for thestewardess. I declare I thought somebody had fallen overboard!"

Sir Joseph looked up briskly; his sister had accidentally touchedon an old association.

"Talk of falling overboard," he began, "reminds me of anextraordinary adventure--"

There Launce broke in, making his apologies.

"It shan't occur again, Miss Lavinia," he said. "To-morrowmorning I'll oil myself all over, and slip into the water assilently as a seal."

"Of an extraordinary adventure," persisted Sir Joseph, "whichhappened to me many years ago, when I was a young man. Lavinia?"

He stopped, and looked interrogatively at his sister. MissGraybrooke nodded her head responsively, and settled herself inher chair, as if summoning her attention in anticipation of acoming demand on it. To persons well acquainted with the brotherand sister these proceedings were ominous of an impendingnarrative, protracted to a formidable length. The two always tolda story in couples, and always differed with each other about thefacts, the sister politely contradicting the brother when it wasSir Joseph's story, and the brother politely contradicting thesister when it was Miss Lavinia's story. Separated one from theother, and thus relieved of their own habitual interchange ofcontradiction, neither of them had ever been known to attempt therelation of the simplest series of events without breaking down.

"It was five years before I knew you, Richard," proceeded SirJoseph.

"Six years," said Miss Graybrooke.

"Excuse me, Lavinia."

"No, Joseph, I have it down in my diary."

"Let us waive the point." (Sir Joseph invariably used thisformula as a means of at once conciliating his sister, andgetting a fresh start for his story.) "I was cruising off theMersey in a Liverpool pilot-boat. I had hired the boat in companywith a friend of mine, formerly notorious in London society,under the nickname (derived from the peculiar brown color of hiswhiskers) of 'Mahogany Dobbs.'"

"The color of his liveries, Joseph, not the color of hiswhiskers."

"My dear Lavinia, you are thinking of 'Sea-green Shaw,' so calledfrom the extraordinary liveries he adopted for his servants inthe year when he was sheriff."

"I think not, Joseph."

"I beg your pardon, Lavinia."

Richard Turlington's knotty fingers drummed impatiently on thetable. He looked toward Natalie. She was idly arranging herlittle morsels of ham in a pattern on her plate. LauncelotLinzie, still more idly, was looking at the pattern. Seeing whathe saw now, Richard solved the problem which had puzzled him ondeck. It was simply impossible that Natalie's fancy could bereally taken by such an empty-headed fool as that!

Sir Joseph went on with his story:

"We were some ten or a dozen miles off the mouth of the Mersey--"

"Nautical miles, Joseph."

"It doesn't matter, Lavinia."

"Excuse me, brother, the late great and good Doctor Johnson saidaccuracy ought always to be studied even in the most triflingthings."

"They were common miles, Lavinia."

"Th ey were nautical miles, Joseph."

"Let us waive the point. Mahogany Dobbs and I happened to bebelow in the cabin, occupied--"

Here Sir Joseph paused (with his amiable smile) to consult hismemory. Miss Lavinia waited (with _her_ amiable smile) for thecoming opportunity of setting her brother right. At the samemoment Natalie laid down her knife and softly touched Launceunder the table. When she thus claimed his attention the sixpieces of ham were arranged as follows in her plate: Two pieceswere placed opposite each other, and four pieces were rangedperpendicularly under them. Launce looked, and twice touchedNatalie under the table. Interpreted by the Code agreed onbetween the two, the signal in the plate meant, "I must see youin private." And Launce's double touch answered, "Afterbreakfast."

Sir Joseph proceeded with his story. Natalie took up her knifeagain. Another signal coming!

"We were both down in the cabin, occupied in finishing ourdinner--"

"Just sitting down to lunch, Joseph."

"My dear! I ought to know."

"I only repeat what I heard, brother. The last time you told thestory, you and your friend were sitting down to lunch."

"We won't particularize, Lavinia. Suppose we say occupied over ameal?"

"If it is of no more importance than that, Joseph, it would besurely better to leave it out altogether."

"Let us waive the point. Well, we were suddenly alarmed by ashout on deck, 'Man over-board!' We both rushed up the cabinstairs, naturally under the impression that one of our crew hadfallen into the sea: an impression shared, I ought to add, by theman at the helm, who had given the alarm."

Sir Joseph paused again. He was approaching one of the greatdramatic points in his story, and was naturally anxious topresent it as impressively as possible. He considered withhimself, with his head a little on one side. Miss Laviniaconsidered with _herself_, with _her_ head a little on one side.Natalie laid down her knife again, and again touched Launce underthe table. This time there were five pieces of ham rangedlongitudinally on the plate, with one piece immediately underthem at the center of the line. Interpreted by the Code, thissignal indicated two ominous words, "Bad news." Launce lookedsignificantly at the owner of the yacht (meaning of the look, "Ishe at the bottom of it?"). Natalie frowned in reply (meaning ofthe frown, "Yes, he is"). Launce looked down again into theplate. Natalie instantly pushed all the pieces of ham together ina little heap (meaning of the heap, "No more to say").

"Well?" said Richard Turlington, turning sharply on Sir Joseph."Get on with your story. What next?"

Thus far he had not troubled himself to show even a decentpretense of interest in his old friend's perpetually-interruptednarrative. It was only when Sir Joseph had reached his lastsentence--intimating that the man overboard might turn out incourse of time not to be a man of the pilot-boat's crew--it wasonly then that Turlington sat up in his chair, and showed signsof suddenly feeling a strong interest in the progress of thestory.

Sir Joseph went on:

"As soon as we got on deck, we saw the man in the water, astern.Our vessel was hove up in the wind, and the boat was lowered. Themaster and one of the men took the oars. All told, our crew wereseven in number. Two away in the boat, a third at the helm, and,to my amazement, when I looked round, the other four behind memaking our number complete. At the same moment Mahogany Dobbs,who was looking through a telescope, called out, 'Who the devilcan he be? The man is floating on a hen-coop, and we have gotnothing of the sort on board this pilot-boat.'"

The one person present who happened to notice RichardTurlington's face when those words were pronounced was LauncelotLinzie. He--and he alone--saw the Levant trader's swarthycomplexion fade slowly to a livid ashen gray; his eyes the whilefixing themselves on Sir Joseph Graybrooke with a furtive glarein them like the glare in the eyes of a wild beast. Apparentlyconscious that Launce was looking at him--though he never turnedhis head Launce's way--he laid his elbow on the table, lifted hisarm, and so rested his face on his hand, while the story went on,as to screen it effectually from the young surgeon's view.

"The man was brought on board," proceeded Sir Joseph, "sureenough, with a hen-coop--on which he had been found floating. Thepoor wretch was blue with terror and exposure in the water; hefainted when we lifted him on deck. When he came to himself hetold us a horrible story. He was a sick and destitute foreignseaman, and he had hidden himself in the hold of an Englishvessel (bound to a port in his native country) which had sailedfrom Liverpool that morning. He had been discovered, and broughtbefore the captain. The captain, a monster in human form, if everthere was one yet--"

Before the next word of the sentence could pass Sir Joseph'slips, Turlington startled the little party in the cabin byspringing suddenly to his feet.

"The breeze!" he cried; "the breeze at last!"

As he spoke, he wheeled round to the cabin door so as to turn hisback on his guests, and hailed the deck.

"Which way is the wind?"

"There is not a breath of wind, sir."

Not the slightest movement in the vessel had been perceptible inthe cabin; not a sound had been audible indicating the rising ofthe breeze. The owner of the yacht--accustomed to the sea,capable, if necessary, of sailing his own vessel--had surelycommitted a strange mistake! He turned again to his friends, andmade his apologies with an excess of polite regret far fromcharacteristic of him at other times and under othercircumstances.

"Go on," he said to Sir Joseph, when he had got to the end of hisexcuses; "I never heard such an interesting story in my life.Pray go on!"

The request was not an easy one to comply with. Sir Joseph'sideas had been thrown into confusion. Miss Lavinia'scontradictions (held in reserve) had been scattered beyondrecall. Both brother and sister were, moreover, additionallyhindered in recovering the control of their own resources by thelook and manner of their host. He alarmed, instead of encouragingthe two harmless old people, by fronting them almost fiercely,with his elbows squared on the table, and his face expressive ofa dogged resolution to sit there and listen, if need be, for therest of his life. Launce was the person who set Sir Joseph goingagain. After first looking attentively at Richard, he took hisuncle straight back to the story by means of a question, thus:

"You don't mean to say that the captain of the ship threw the manoverboard?"

"That is just what he did, Launce. The poor wretch was too ill towork his passage. The captain declared he would have no idleforeign vagabond in his ship to eat up the provisions ofEnglishmen who worked. With his own hands he cast the hen-coopinto the water, and (assisted by one of his sailors) he threw theman after it, and told him to float back to Liverpool with theevening tide."

"A lie!" cried Turlington, addressing himself, not to Sir Joseph,but to Launce.

"Are you acquainted with the circumstances?" asked Launce,quietly.

"I know nothing about the circumstances. I say, from my ownexperience, that foreign sailors are even greater blackguardsthan English sailors. The man had met with an accident, no doubt.The rest of his story was a lie, and the object of it was to openSir Joseph's purse."

Sir Joseph mildly shook his head.

"No lie, Richard. Witnesses proved that the man had spoken thetruth."

"Witnesses? Pooh! More liars, you mean."

"I went to the owners of the vessel," pursued Sir Joseph." I gotfrom them the names of the officers and the crew, and I waited,leaving the case in the hands of the Liverpool police. The shipwas wrecked at the mouth of the Amazon, but the crew and thecargo were saved. The men belonging to Liverpool came back. Theywere a bad set, I grant you. But they were examined separatelyabout the treatment of the foreign sailor, and they all told thesame story. They could give no account of their captain, nor ofthe sailor who had been his accomplice in the crime, except thatthey had not embarked in the ship which brought the rest of thecrew to England. Whatever may have become of the captain since,he certainly never returned to Liverpool."

"Did you find out his name?"

The question was asked by Turlington. Even Sir Joseph, the leastobservant of men, noticed that it was put with a perfectlyunaccountable irritability of manner.

"Don't be angry, Richard." said the old gentleman. "What is thereto be angry about?"

"I don't know what you mean. I'm not angry--I'm only curious._Did_ you find out who he was?"

"I did. His name was Goward. He was well known at Liverpool as avery clever and a very dangerous man. Quite young at the time Iam speaking of, and a first-rate sailor; famous for takingcommand of unseaworthy ships and vagabond crews. Report describedhim to me as having made considerable sums of money in that way,for a man in his position; serving firms, you know, with a badname, and running all sorts of desperate risks. A sad ruffian,Richard! More than once in trouble, on both sides of theAtlantic, for acts of violence and cruelty. Dead, I dare say,long since."

"Or possibly," said Launce, "alive, under another name, andthriving in a new way of life, with more desperate risks in it,of some other sort."

"Are _you_ acquainted with the circumstances?" asked Turlington,retorting Launce's question on him, with a harsh ring of defiancein his brassy voice.

"What became of the poor foreign sailor, papa?" said Natalie,purposely interrupting Launce before he could meet the questionangrily asked of him, by an angry reply.

"We made a subscription, and spoke to his consul, my dear. Hewent back to his country, poor fellow, comfortably enough."

"And there is an end of Sir Joseph's story," said Turlington,rising noisily from his chair. "It's a pity we haven't got aliterary man on board--he would make a novel of it." He looked upat the skylight as he got on his feet. "Here is the breeze, thistime," he exclaimed, "and no mistake!"

It was true. At last the breeze had come. The sails flapped, themain boom swung over with a thump, and the stagnant water,stirred at last, bubbled merrily past the vessel's sides.

"Come on deck, Natalie, and get some fresh air," said MissLavinia, leading the way to the cabin door.

Natalie held up the skirt of her nankeen dress, and exhibited thepurple trimming torn away over an extent of some yards.

"Give me half an hour first, aunt, in my cabin," she said, "tomend this."

Miss Lavinia elevated her venerable eyebrows in amazement.

"You have done nothing but tear your dresses, my dear, since youhave been in Mr. Turlington's yacht. Most extraordinary! I havetorn none of mine during the whole cruise."

Natalie's dark color deepened a shade. She laughed, a littleuneasily. "I am so awkward on board ship," she replied, andturned away and shut herself up in her cabin.

Richard Turlington produced his case of cigars.

"Now is the time," he said to Sir Joseph, "for the best cigar ofthe day--the cigar after breakfast. Come on deck."

"You will join us, Launce?" said Sir Joseph.

"Give me half an hour first over my books," Launce replied." Imustn't let my medical knowledge get musty at sea, and I mightnot feel inclined to study later in the day."

"Quite right, my dear boy, quite right."

Sir Joseph patted his nephew approvingly on the shoulder. Launceturned away on _his_ side, and shut himself up in his cabin.

The other three ascended together to the deck.