Any one who had quitted Marseilles a few years previously,well acquainted with the interior of Morrel's warehouse, andhad returned at this date, would have found a great change.Instead of that air of life, of comfort, and of happinessthat permeates a flourishing and prosperous businessestablishment - instead of merry faces at the windows, busyclerks hurrying to and fro in the long corridors - insteadof the court filled with bales of goods, re-echoing with thecries and the jokes of porters, one would have immediatelyperceived all aspect of sadness and gloom. Out of all thenumerous clerks that used to fill the deserted corridor andthe empty office, but two remained. One was a young man ofthree or four and twenty, who was in love with M. Morrel'sdaughter, and had remained with him in spite of the effortsof his friends to induce him to withdraw; the other was anold one-eyed cashier, called "Cocles," or "Cock-eye," anickname given him by the young men who used to throng thisvast now almost deserted bee-hive, and which had socompletely replaced his real name that he would not, in allprobability, have replied to any one who addressed him byit.

Cocles remained in M. Morrel's service, and a most singularchange had taken place in his position; he had at the sametime risen to the rank of cashier, and sunk to the rank of aservant. He was, however, the same Cocles, good, patient,devoted, but inflexible on the subject of arithmetic, theonly point on which he would have stood firm against theworld, even against M. Morrel; and strong in themultiplication-table, which he had at his fingers' ends, nomatter what scheme or what trap was laid to catch him. Inthe midst of the disasters that befell the house, Cocles wasthe only one unmoved. But this did not arise from a want ofaffection; on the contrary, from a firm conviction. Like therats that one by one forsake the doomed ship even before thevessel weighs anchor, so all the numerous clerks had bydegrees deserted the office and the warehouse. Cocles hadseen them go without thinking of inquiring the cause oftheir departure. Everything was as we have said, a questionof arithmetic to Cocles, and during twenty years he hadalways seen all payments made with such exactitude, that itseemed as impossible to him that the house should stoppayment, as it would to a miller that the river that had solong turned his mill should cease to flow.

Nothing had as yet occurred to shake Cocles' belief; thelast month's payment had been made with the most scrupulousexactitude; Cocles had detected an overbalance of fourteensous in his cash, and the same evening he had brought themto M. Morrel, who, with a melancholy smile, threw them intoan almost empty drawer, saying: -

"Thanks, Cocles; you are the pearl of cashiers."

Cocles went away perfectly happy, for this eulogium of M.Morrel, himself the pearl of the honest men of Marseilles,flattered him more than a present of fifty crowns. But sincethe end of the month M. Morrel had passed many an anxioushour. In order to meet the payments then due; he hadcollected all his resources, and, fearing lest the report ofhis distress should get bruited abroad at Marseilles when hewas known to be reduced to such an extremity, he went to theBeaucaire fair to sell his wife's and daughter's jewels anda portion of his plate. By this means the end of the monthwas passed, but his resources were now exhausted. Credit,owing to the reports afloat, was no longer to be had; and tomeet the one hundred thousand francs due on the 10th of thepresent month, and the one hundred thousand francs due onthe 15th of the next month to M. de Boville, M. Morrel had,in reality, no hope but the return of the Pharaon, of whosedeparture he had learnt from a vessel which had weighedanchor at the same time, and which had already arrived inharbor. But this vessel which, like the Pharaon, came fromCalcutta, had been in for a fortnight, while no intelligencehad been received of the Pharaon.

Such was the state of affairs when, the day after hisinterview with M. de Boville, the confidential clerk of thehouse of Thomson & French of Rome, presented himself at M.Morrel's. Emmanuel received him; this young man was alarmedby the appearance of every new face, for every new facemight be that of a new creditor, come in anxiety to questionthe head of the house. The young man, wishing to spare hisemployer the pain of this interview, questioned thenew-comer; but the stranger declared that he had nothing tosay to M. Emmanuel, and that his business was with M. Morrelin person. Emmanuel sighed, and summoned Cocles. Coclesappeared, and the young man bade him conduct the stranger toM. Morrel's apartment. Cocles went first, and the strangerfollowed him. On the staircase they met a beautiful girl ofsixteen or seventeen, who looked with anxiety at thestranger.

"M. Morrel is in his room, is he not, Mademoiselle Julie?"said the cashier.

"Yes; I think so, at least," said the young girlhesitatingly. "Go and see, Cocles, and if my father isthere, announce this gentleman."

"It will be useless to announce me, mademoiselle," returnedthe Englishman. "M. Morrel does not know my name; thisworthy gentleman has only to announce the confidential clerkof the house of Thomson & French of Rome, with whom yourfather does business."

The young girl turned pale and continued to descend, whilethe stranger and Cocles continued to mount the staircase.She entered the office where Emmanuel was, while Cocles, bythe aid of a key he possessed, opened a door in the cornerof a landing-place on the second staircase, conducted thestranger into an ante-chamber, opened a second door, whichhe closed behind him, and after having left the clerk of thehouse of Thomson & French alone, returned and signed to himthat he could enter. The Englishman entered, and foundMorrel seated at a table, turning over the formidablecolumns of his ledger, which contained the list of hisliabilities. At the sight of the stranger, M. Morrel closedthe ledger, arose, and offered a seat to the stranger; andwhen he had seen him seated, resumed his own chair. Fourteenyears had changed the worthy merchant, who, in histhirty-sixth year at the opening of this history, was now inhis fiftieth; his hair had turned white, time and sorrow hadploughed deep furrows on his brow, and his look, once sofirm and penetrating, was now irresolute and wandering, asif he feared being forced to fix his attention on someparticular thought or person. The Englishman looked at himwith an air of curiosity, evidently mingled with interest."Monsieur," said Morrel, whose uneasiness was increased bythis examination, "you wish to speak to me?"

"Yes, monsieur; you are aware from whom I come?"

"The house of Thomson & French; at least, so my cashiertells me."

"He has told you rightly. The house of Thomson & French had300,000 or 400,000 francs to pay this month in France; and,knowing your strict punctuality, have collected all thebills bearing your signature, and charged me as they becamedue to present them, and to employ the money otherwise."Morrel sighed deeply, and passed his hand over his forehead,which was covered with perspiration.

"So then, sir," said Morrel, "you hold bills of mine?"

"Yes, and for a considerable sum."

"What is the amount?" asked Morrel with a voice he strove torender firm.

"Here is," said the Englishman, taking a quantity of papersfrom his pocket, "an assignment of 200,000 francs to ourhouse by M. de Boville, the inspector of prisons, to whomthey are due. You acknowledge, of course, that you owe thissum to him?"

"Yes; he placed the money in my hands at four and a half percent nearly five years ago."

"When are you to pay?"

"Half the 15th of this month, half the 15th of next."

"Just so; and now here are 32,500 francs payable shortly;they are all signed by you, and assigned to our house by theholders."

"I recognize them," said Morrel, whose face was suffused, ashe thought that, for the first time in his life, he would beunable to honor his own signature. "Is this all?"

"No, I have for the end of the month these bills which havebeen assigned to us by the house of Pascal, and the house ofWild & Turner of Marseilles, amounting to nearly 55,000francs; in all, 287,500 francs." It is impossible todescribe what Morrel suffered during this enumeration. "Twohundred and eighty-seven thousand five hundred francs,"repeated he.

"Yes, sir," replied the Englishman. "I will not," continuedhe, after a moment's silence, "conceal from you, that whileyour probity and exactitude up to this moment areuniversally acknowledged, yet the report is current inMarseilles that you are not able to meet your liabilities."At this almost brutal speech Morrel turned deathly pale."Sir," said he, "up to this time - and it is now more thanfour-and-twenty years since I received the direction of thishouse from my father, who had himself conducted it for fiveand thirty years - never has anything bearing the signatureof Morrel & Son been dishonored."

"I know that," replied the Englishman. "But as a man ofhonor should answer another, tell me fairly, shall you paythese with the same punctuality?" Morrel shuddered, andlooked at the man, who spoke with more assurance than he hadhitherto shown. "To questions frankly put," said he, "astraightforward answer should be given. Yes, I shall pay,if, as I hope, my vessel arrives safely; for its arrivalwill again procure me the credit which the numerousaccidents, of which I have been the victim, have deprivedme; but if the Pharaon should be lost, and this lastresource 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 forcedto say, but, already used to misfortune, I must habituatemyself to shame. I fear I shall be forced to suspendpayment."

"Have you no friends who could assist you?" Morrel smiledmournfully. "In business, sir," said he, "one has nofriends, only correspondents."

"It is true," murmured the Englishman; "then you have butone 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 fallenfortunes, passes a part of his time in a belvidere at thetop of the house, in hopes of being the first to announcegood news to me; he has informed me of the arrival of thisship."

"And it is not yours?"

"No, she is a Bordeaux vessel, La Gironde; she comes fromIndia also; but she is not mine."

"Perhaps she has spoken to the Pharaon, and brings you sometidings of her?"

"Shall I tell you plainly one thing, sir? I dread almost asmuch to receive any tidings of my vessel as to remain indoubt. Uncertainty is still hope." Then in a low voiceMorrel added, - "This delay is not natural. The Pharaonleft Calcutta the 5th of February; she ought to have been herea month ago."

"What is that?" said the Englishman. "What is the meaning ofthat noise?"

"Oh, oh!" cried Morrel, turning pale, "what is it?" A loudnoise was heard on the stairs of people moving hastily, andhalf-stifled sobs. Morrel rose and advanced to the door; buthis strength failed him and he sank into a chair. The twomen remained opposite one another, Morrel trembling in everylimb, the stranger gazing at him with an air of profoundpity. The noise had ceased; but it seemed that Morrelexpected something - something had occasioned the noise,and something must follow. The stranger fancied he heardfootsteps on the stairs; and that the footsteps, which werethose of several persons, stopped at the door. A key wasinserted in the lock of the first door, and the creaking ofhinges was audible.

"There are only two persons who have the key to that door,"murmured Morrel, "Cocles and Julie." At this instant thesecond door opened, and the young girl, her eyes bathed withtears, appeared. Morrel rose tremblingly, supporting himselfby the arm of the chair. He would have spoken, but his voicefailed 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 hisarms.

"Oh, father, father!" murmured she, "courage!"

"The Pharaon has gone down, then?" said Morrel in a hoarsevoice. The young girl did not speak; but she made anaffirmative sign with her head as she lay on her father'sbreast.

"And the crew?" asked Morrel.

"Saved," said the girl; "saved by the crew of the vesselthat has just entered the harbor." Morrel raised his twohands to heaven with an expression of resignation andsublime gratitude. "Thanks, my God," said he, "at least thoustrikest but me alone." A tear moistened the eye of thephlegmatic Englishman.

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

Scarcely had he uttered those words than Madame Morrelentered weeping bitterly. Emmanuel followed her, and in theantechamber were visible the rough faces of seven or eighthalf-naked sailors. At the sight of these men the Englishmanstarted and advanced a step; then restrained himself, andretired into the farthest and most obscure corner of theapartment. Madame Morrel sat down by her husband and tookone of his hands in hers, Julie still lay with her head onhis shoulder, Emmanuel stood in the centre of the chamberand seemed to form the link between Morrel's family and thesailors at the door.

"How did this happen?" said Morrel.

"Draw nearer, Penelon," said the young man, "and tell us allabout 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 quittedMarseilles the previous evening, and had just returned fromAix or Toulon.

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

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

"Well, now tell your story, Penelon."

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

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

His firm, sonorous, and unexpected voice made every onestart. Penelon put his hand over his eyes, and then staredat the man who thus criticized the manoeuvres of hiscaptain. "We did better than that, sir," said the old sailorrespectfully; "we put the helm up to run before the tempest;ten minutes after we struck our tops'ls and scudded underbare poles."

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

"Eh, it was that that did the business; after pitchingheavily for twelve hours we sprung a leak. `Penelon,' saidthe captain, `I think we are sinking, give me the helm, andgo down into the hold.' I gave him the helm, and descended;there was already three feet of water. `All hands to thepumps!' I shouted; but it was too late, and it seemed themore we pumped the more came in. `Ah,' said I, after fourhours' work, `since we are sinking, let us sink; we can diebut once.' `That's the example you set, Penelon,' cries thecaptain; `very well, wait a minute.' He went into his cabinand came back with a brace of pistols. `I will blow thebrains 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 hadabated, and the sea gone down, but the water kept rising;not much, only two inches an hour, but still it rose. Twoinches an hour does not seem much, but in twelve hours thatmakes 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 havetried to save the ship, let us now save ourselves. To theboats, my lads, as quick as you can.' Now," continuedPenelon, "you see, M. Morrel, a sailor is attached to hisship, but still more to his life, so we did not wait to betold twice; the more so, that the ship was sinking under us,and seemed to say, `Get along - save yourselves.' We soonlaunched the boat, and all eight of us got into it. Thecaptain descended last, or rather, he did not descend, hewould not quit the vessel; so I took him round the waist,and threw him into the boat, and then I jumped after him. Itwas time, for just as I jumped the deck burst with a noiselike the broadside of a man-of-war. Ten minutes after shepitched forward, then the other way, spun round and round,and then good-by to the Pharaon. As for us, we were threedays without anything to eat or drink, so that we began tothink of drawing lots who should feed the rest, when we sawLa 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 ittrue, you fellows there?" A general murmur of approbationshowed that the narrator had faithfully detailed theirmisfortunes and sufferings.

"Well, well," said M. Morrel, "I know there was no one infault but destiny. It was the will of God that this shouldhappen, 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 goodfellows," said Morrel. "At another time," added he, "Ishould have said, `Give them, besides, two hundred francsover as a present;' but times are changed, and the littlemoney that remains to me is not my own."

Penelon turned to his companions, and exchanged a few wordswith 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 atpresent, and that we will wait for the rest."

"Thanks, my friends, thanks!" cried Morrel gratefully; "takeit - take it; and if you can find another employer, enterhis service; you are free to do so." These last wordsproduced a prodigious effect on the seaman. Penelon nearlyswallowed his quid; fortunately he recovered. "What, M.Morrel!" said he in a low voice, "you send us away; you arethen angry with us!"

"No, no," said M. Morrel, "I am not angry, quite thecontrary, and I do not send you away; but I have no moreships, and therefore I do not want any sailors."

"No more ships!" returned Penelon; "well, then, you'll buildsome; we'll wait for you."

"I have no money to build ships with, Penelon," said thepoor owner mournfully, "so I cannot accept your kind offer."

"No more money? Then you must not pay us; we can scud, likethe Pharaon, under bare poles."

"Enough, enough!" cried Morrel, almost overpowered; "leaveme, I pray you; we shall meet again in a happier time.Emmanuel, go with them, and see that my orders areexecuted."

"At least, we shall see each other again, M. Morrel?" askedPenelon.

"Yes; I hope so, at least. Now go." He made a sign toCocles, who went first; the seamen followed him and Emmanuelbrought up the rear. "Now," said the owner to his wife anddaughter, "leave me; I wish to speak with this gentleman."And he glanced towards the clerk of Thomson & French, whohad remained motionless in the corner during this scene, inwhich he had taken no part, except the few words we havementioned. The two women looked at this person whosepresence they had entirely forgotten, and retired; but, asshe left the apartment, Julie gave the stranger asupplicating glance, to which he replied by a smile that anindifferent spectator would have been surprised to see onhis stern features. The two men were left alone. "Well,sir," said Morrel, sinking into a chair, "you have heardall, and I have nothing further to tell you."

"I see," returned the Englishman, "that a fresh andunmerited misfortune has overwhelmed you, and this onlyincreases my desire to serve you."

"Oh, sir!" cried Morrel.

"Let me see," continued the stranger, "I am one of yourlargest creditors."

"Your bills, at least, are the first that will fall due."

"Do you wish for time to pay?"

"A delay would save my honor, and consequently my life."

"How long a delay do you wish for?" - Morrel reflected."Two months," said he.

"I will give you three," replied the stranger.

"But," asked Morrel, "will the house of Thomson & Frenchconsent?"

"Oh, I take everything on myself. To-day is the 5th ofJune."

"Yes."

"Well, renew these bills up to the 5th of September; and onthe 5th of September at eleven o'clock (the hand of theclock pointed to eleven), I shall come to receive themoney."

"I shall expect you," returned Morrel; "and I will pay you- or I shall be dead." These last words were uttered in solow a tone that the stranger could not hear them. The billswere renewed, the old ones destroyed, and the poorship-owner found himself with three months before him tocollect his resources. The Englishman received his thankswith the phlegm peculiar to his nation; and Morrel,overwhelming him with grateful blessings, conducted him tothe staircase. The stranger met Julie on the stairs; shepretended to be descending, but in reality she was waitingfor him. "Oh, sir" - said she, clasping her hands.

"Mademoiselle," said the stranger, "one day you will receivea letter signed `Sinbad the Sailor.' Do exactly what theletter bids you, however strange it may appear."

"Yes, sir," returned Julie.

"Do you promise?"

"I swear to you I will."

"It is well. Adieu, mademoiselle. Continue to be the good,sweet girl you are at present, and I have great hopes thatheaven will reward you by giving you Emmanuel for ahusband."

Julie uttered a faint cry, blushed like a rose, and leanedagainst the baluster. The stranger waved his hand, andcontinued to descend. In the court he found Penelon, who,with a rouleau of a hundred francs in either hand, seemedunable to make up his mind to retain them. "Come with me, myfriend," said the Englishman; "I wish to speak to you."