ship, the agents added a deck
cargo of some massive pieces of machinery, weighing thirty tons, and a
supply of coals, the proper receptacle for which below had been filled
with iron goods. Neither did he utter a word when--after the vessel had
been taken out into the stream by the riggers--he and the owner, agents,
pilot, and crew (only six of which last were A.B.'s), were taken off to
her in a tug and put on board with orders to sail immediately.

Only a few passengers were going. These were already on board, but some
of their friends went off in the tug to bid them a last farewell.

This was a sad scene, but the captain regarded it with stoical
indifference. There was a stout, hale old Indian officer going out on a
pleasure trip to his beloved East, and a daughter of the same whom he
hoped to get married "offhand, comfortably there." There was a sick
nephew of the old officer, going the voyage for the benefit of his
health, on whose wan countenance consumption, if not death, had
evidently set a deep mark. There were, also, a nurse and a lady's-maid,
and two girls of ten or thirteen years of age--sisters--who were going
to join their father and mother, besides one or two others. Earnest
loving words passed kindly between these and their relatives and friends
as the moment of parting drew near.

"Don't forget to remember me to Coleman and the rest of `ours,'" cried a
stout elderly man, waving his hand as the tug moved off.

"That I won't, and I shall expect to shake you by the hand again, old
fellow, in a year or two."

"You'll never see him again," thought Captain Phelps, as he stood with
compressed lip and frowning eye on the quarter-deck.

"Good-bye, darling Nelly," cried a lady to one of the sobbing girls from
whom she was parting; "remember the message to mamma."

"Oh! yes," exclaimed the child, trying to look bright, "and we won't be
very long of coming back again."

"You'll never come back again," thought the captain, and he sighed
_very_ slightly as the thought passed through his brain.

"Look alive there, lads," exclaimed the pilot, as the tug sheared away.

Soon the anchor was at the bows, the sails were shaken out, and the
_Swordfish_ began her voyage.

"There's not a piece of spare rope aboard, sir," said the first mate,
coming up to the captain with a blank look; "we can't even get enough to
cat and fish the anchor."

"You can unreeve the tops'l halyards," replied the captain, quietly.