s as they were. That is what Dick Sand did, asking God, from the
depths of his heart, for aid and succor. What resolution was he going
to take?

At that moment Negoro appeared on the deck, which he had left after the
catastrophe. What had been felt in the presence of this irreparable
misfortune by a being so enigmatical, no one could tell. He had
contemplated the disaster without making a gesture, without departing
from his speechlessness. His eye had evidently seized all the details
of it. But if at such a moment one could think of observing him, he
would be astonished at least, because not a muscle of his impassible
face had moved. At any rate, and as if he had not heard it, he had not
responded to the pious appeal of Mrs. Weldon, praying for the engulfed
crew. Negoro walked aft, there even where Dick Sand was standing
motionless. He stopped three steps from the novice.

"You wish to speak to me?" asked Dick Sand.

"I wish to speak to Captain Hull," replied Negoro, coolly, "or, in his
absence, to boatswain Howik."

"You know well that both have perished!" cried the novice.

"Then who commands on board now?" asked Negoro, very insolently.

"I," replied Dick Sand, without hesitation.

"You!" said Negoro, shrugging his shoulders. "A captain of fifteen
years?"

"A captain of fifteen years!" replied the novice, advancing toward the
cook.

The latter drew back.

"Do not forget it," then said Mrs. Weldon. "There is but one captain
here--Captain Sand, and it is well for all to remember that he will
know how to make himself obeyed."

Negoro bowed, murmuring in an ironical tone a few words that they could
not understand, and he returned to his post.

We see, Dick's resolution was taken.

Meanwhile the schooner, under the action of the breeze, which commenced
to freshen, had already passed beyond the vast shoal of crustaceans.

Dick Sand examined the condition of the sails; then his eyes were cast
on the deck. He had then this sentiment, that, if a frightful
responsibility fell upon him in the future, it was for him to have the
strength to accept it. He dared to look at the survivors of the
"Pilgrim," whose eyes were now fixed on him. And, reading in their
faces that he could count on them, he said to them in two words, that
they could in their turn count on him.

Dick Sand had, in all sincerity, examined his conscience.

If he was capable of taking in or setting the sails of the schooner,
according to circu