"Aye, aye!" responded Ishmael, with all the strength of his powerful lungs.

"All safe with you?"

"All safe!"

As the boat was pushed up as near as it could with safety be brought to the wreck, the frozen and famished men began to climb down and drop into it. When they were all in, even to the professor, Ishmael stepped down and took his place among them with a smile of joy and a deep throb of gratitude to God, For, ah! the strong young man had loved that joyous and powerful life which he had been so prompt to offer up on the shrine of duty; and he was glad and thankful to return to life, to work, to fame, to love, to Bee!

The boatmen laid themselves to their oars and pulled vigorously for the steamer. They were soon alongside.

The men made a rush for her decks. They wanted to be warmed and fed.

Ishmael let them all go before him, and then he followed and stepped upon the steamer.

And the next moment he found himself seized and clasped in the embrace of--Mr. Brudenell!

"Oh, my son, my brave and noble son, you are saved! God is kinder to me than I deserve!" he cried.

"One moment, Brudenell! Oh, Ishmael, thank Heaven, you are safe!"

fervently exclaimed another voice--that of Judge Merlin, who now came forward and warmly shook his hand.

"Ant dere ish--von more--drue shentlemans--in te vorlt!" sobbed the German Jew, seizing and pressing one of Ishmael's hands.

Captain Mountz, Doctor Kerr, and in fact all Ishmael's late fellow- passengers, now crowded around with earnest and even tearful congratulations.

And meanwhile dry clothes and warm food and drink were prepared for the shipwrecked passengers. And it was not until Ishmael had changed his raiment and eaten a comfortable breakfast that he was permitted to hear an explanation of the unexpected appearance of his friends upon the deck of the steamer.

It happened that the passengers in the lifeboats, after suffering severely with cold and with the dread of a slow death from exposure for twelve hours, were at last picked up by the "Santiago," a Spanish steamer bound for Havana. That after their wants had been relieved by the captain of the "Santiago" they had told him of the imminently perilous condition In which they had left the remnant of the crew and passengers. And the captain had altered the course of the ship in the forlorn hope of yet rescuing those forsaken men. And the Lord had blessed his efforts with success. Such was the story told by Mr. Brudenell and Judge Merlin to Ishmael.

"But, oh, my dear boy, what a fatal delay! Just think of it! This steamer is bound for Havana. And this very day, when we ought to be landing on the shores of England, we find ourselves steaming in an opposite direction for the West India Islands," said Judge Merlin.

"Oh, sir, trust still in Heaven," answered Ishmael. "Think how marvelously the Lord has delivered us from danger and death! This very delay that seems so fatal may be absolutely necessary to our final success."

The words of Ishmael proved prophetic. For had it not been for their shipwreck and the consequent alteration in their course, their voyage to England would have been taken in vain.

The "Santiago" steamed her way southward, and in due course of time, without the least misadventure, reached the port of Havana.

It was Sunday, the first of January, when they arrived.

"We shall have no trouble with the Custom House officers here,"

laughed Ishmael, as he gave his arm to Judge Merlin and went on shore, leaving all the passengers who had not been shipwrecked, and lost their luggage, to pass the ordeal he and his friends had escaped.

They went at once to the hotel which had been recommended to them by the captain of the "Santiago."

And as this was Sunday, and there was no English Protestant church open, they passed the day quietly within doors.

On Monday Judge Merlin's first care was to go to the American consul and get the latter to accompany him to a banker, from whom he procured the funds he required in exchange for drafts upon his own New York bankers.

While Judge Merlin was gone upon this errand Ishmael went down to the harbor to make inquiries as to what ships were to sail in the course of the week for Europe.

He found that he had a choice between two. The "Mary," an English sailing ship, would leave on Wednesday for London. And the "Cadiz,"

a screw steamer, would sail on Saturday for the port whose name she bore.

Ishmael mentally gave preference to the swift and sure steamer, rather than the uncertain sailing packet; but he felt bound to refer the matter to Judge Merlin before finally deciding upon it.

With this purpose he left the harbor and entered the city. He was passing up one of the narrow granite-paved streets in the neighborhood of the grand cathedral where lie the ashes of Columbus, when he was startled by hearing quick and heavy footsteps and a panting, eager voice behind him:

"Marse Ishmael! Marse Ishmael Worth! Oh, is it you, sir, dropped from the clouds to save me! Marse Ishmael! Oh, stop, sir! Oh, for de Lord's sake, stop!"

Ishmael started and turned around, and, to his inexpressible amazement, stood face to face with old Katie.

"Oh, Marse Ishmael, honey, is dis you? Is dis indeed you, or only de debbil deceiving of me!" she exclaimed, panting for breath as she caught him by the greatcoat, and grasping him as the drowning grasp a saving plank.

"Katie!" exclaimed Ishmael, in immeasurable astonishment. "Yes, honey, it's Katie. Yes, my dear chile, ole Katie an' no ghose, nor likewise sperit, dough you might think I is! But oh, Marse Ishmael!

is you, you? Is you reely an' truly you, and no, no 'ception ob de debbil?"

"Katie!" repeated Ishmael, unable to realize the fact of her presence.

"Hi! what I tell you? Oh, Marse Ishmael, chile, don't go for to 'ny your old Aunt Katie, as nussed you good when you lay out dere for dead at Tanglewood! don't!" said the poor creature, clinging to his coat. "Katie!" reiterated Ishmael, unable to utter another word.

"Laws a massy upon top of me, yes! I keep on telling you, chile, I is Katie! don't 'ny me; don't 'ny me in my 'stress, Marse Ishmael, if ebber you 'spects to see hebben!" she said, beginning to cry.

"I do not deny you, Katie; but I am lost in amazement. How on earth came you here?" asked Ishmael, staring at her.

"I didn't come on earth at all. I come by de sea. Oh, Marse Ishmael!

I done died since I lef' you! done died and gone to the debbil! been clar down dar in his place, which it aint 'spectable to name! done died and gone dere and come to life again, on a ship at sea."

"Who brought you here, Katie?" questioned Ishmael, thoroughly perplexed.

"De debbil, honey! de debbil, chile! Sure as you lib it was de debbil! Oh, Marse Ishmael, honey, stop long o' me! Don't go leabe me, chile, don't! Now de Lor' has sent you to me, don't go leabe me.

You is all de hopes I has in de world!" she cried, clinging with desperate perseverance to his coat.

"I will not leave you, Katie. I have not the least intention of doing so. But all this is quite incomprehensible. Where is your mistress? She is never here?" said Ishmael.

"I dunno. I dunno nuffin 'bout my poor dear babyship--ladyship, I mean; only my head is so 'fused! Oh, lor', don't go break away from me! don't, Marse Ishmael!"

"I will not desert you, Katie, be assured that I will not; but let go my coat and try to compose yourself. Don't you see that you are collecting a crowd around us?" expostulated Ishmael.

But Katie hung fast, saying:

"'Deed I can't! 'Deed I can't, Marse Ishmael! If I let go of you I shall wake up an' find you is all a dream, an' I'll be as bad off as ebber," persisted Katie, taking Ishmael more firmly into custody than ever.

He laughed; he could not help laughing at the ludicrous desperation of his captor. But his astonishment and wonder were unabated; and he saw that Katie could not give a lucid explanation of her presence on the island, or at least not until her excitement should have time to subside.

Besides the crowd of negroes, mulattoes, and creoles, men, women, and children, who had gathered around them, with open eyes and mouths, was still increasing.

"Katie," he said, "we cannot talk in the middle of the street with all these people staring at us. So come with--"

"Oh, lor', Marse Ishmael," interrupted Katie, "don't you mind dese poor trash! Dey can't speak one word o' good Christian talk, nor likewise understand a Christian no mor'n dumb brutes. Dey is no better nor barbariums, wid dere o's and ro's ebery odder word. Don't mind dem herrin's."

"But, Katie, they have eyes. Come with me to the hotel. You will find your old master there."