"Let go -- and clue up!" At this last command all the sails
were lowered, and the vessel moved almost imperceptibly
onwards.

"Now, if you will come on board, M. Morrel," said Dantes,
observing the owner's impatience, "here is your supercargo,
M. Danglars, coming out of his cabin, who will furnish you
with every particular. As for me, I must look after the
anchoring, and dress the ship in mourning."

The owner did not wait for a second invitation. He seized a
rope which Dantes flung to him, and with an activity that
would have done credit to a sailor, climbed up the side of
the ship, while the young man, going to his task, left the
conversation to Danglars, who now came towards the owner. He
was a man of twenty-five or twenty-six years of age, of
unprepossessing countenance, obsequious to his superiors,
insolent to his subordinates; and this, in addition to his
position as responsible agent on board, which is always
obnoxious to the sailors, made him as much disliked by the
crew as Edmond Dantes was beloved by them.

"Well, M. Morrel," said Danglars, "you have heard of the
misfortune that has befallen us?"

"Yes -- yes: poor Captain Leclere! He was a brave and an
honest man."

"And a first-rate seaman, one who had seen long and