After some further questioning from the officials, a Bible was
required for the captain to take an oath. Mine was mislaid, and
there was none at hand.

"Confound it!" muttered the old sailor, tossing over the papers
in his desk; "that scoundrel, Sam, always stows my traps out of
the way." Then taking up from the table a book which I had been
reading, which happened to be Voltaire's History of Charles XII.,
he presented it, with as grave an air as he could assume, to the
Frenchman. Taking for granted that it was the volume required, the
little doctor was too polite to open the book, the captain was duly
sworn, and the party returned to the deck.

Here a new difficulty occurred, which nearly ended in a serious
quarrel. The gentlemen requested the old sailor to give them a few
feet of old planking, to repair some damage which their boat had
sustained the day before. This the captain could not do. They
seemed to think his refusal intentional, and took it as a personal
affront. In no very gentle tones, they ordered him instantly to
prepare his boats, and put his passengers on shore.

"Stiff breeze--short sea," returned the bluff old seaman; "great
risk in making land--boats heavily laden with women and children
will be swamped. Not a soul goes on shore this night."

"If you refuse to comply with our orders, we will report you to the
authorities."

"I know my duty--you stick to yours. When the wind falls off, I'll