--World below the brine.
Forests at the bottom of the sea, the branches and leaves.
Sea-lettuce, vast lichens, strange flowers and seed.
The thick tangle,... and pink turf.


When I looked again at the reef I espied a small boat, almost a speck
outside the coral barrier. She was too small for an inter-island
cutter, and smaller than those do not venture beyond the reef. She
was downing her single sail, and the sun glinted on the wet canvas. I
called to the guardian of the semaphore, and when he pointed his
telescope at the object, he shouted out:

"Mais, c'est curieux! Et ees a schmall vessel, a sheep's boat!"

I waited for no more, but with all sorts of conjectures racing through
my mind, I hurried down the hill. Under the club balcony I called up
to Captain Goeltz, who already had his glass fixed. He answered:

"She's a ship's boat, with three men, a jury rig, and barrels and
boxes. She's from a wreck, that's sure."

He came rolling down the narrow stairway, and together we stood at
the quai du Commerce as the mysterious boat drew nearer. We saw that
the oarsmen were rowing fairly strongly against the slight breeze,
and our fears of the common concomitants of wrecks,--starvation
and corpses--disappeared as we made out their faces through the
glasses. They stood out bronzed and hearty. The boat came up along