the passage down Long Island Sound she met
with an accident. She ran into the schooner Resurrection, which was
lying becalmed across her course, carrying away most of the schooner's
bowsprit, but doing no serious damage. This, however, was not the
worst. On arriving in New York, it was found that one of the
passengers was missing! He had fallen overboard during the night,
possibly at the time of the collision.

Balder Halwyse was on board. After dining with the cook, and smoking
a real Havana cigar (probably the first real one that he had ever been
blessed with), he put a package of the same brand in his
travelling-bag, bade his entertainer,--who had solemnly engaged to
remain in Boston for Mr. Helwyse's sole sake,--bade his
fellow-convivialist good by, and took the train to Newport, and from
there the "Empire State" for New York.

The darkness was the most impenetrable that the young man had ever
seen; Long Island Sound was like a pocket. The passengers--those who
did not go to their state-rooms at once--sat in the cabin reading, or
dozing on the chairs and sofas. A few men stayed out on deck for an
hour or two, smoking; but at last they too went in. The darkness was
appalling. The officer on the bridge blew his steam fog-whistle every
few minutes, and kept his lanterns hung out; but they must have been
invisible at sixty yards.

Helwyse kept the deck alone. Apparently he meant to smoke his whole
bundle of cigars before turning in. He paced up and down,
Napoleon-like in his high boots, until finally he was brought to a
stand by the blind night-wall, which no man can either scale or
circumvent. Then he leaned on the railing and looked against the
darkness. Not a light to be seen in heaven or on earth! The water
below whispered and swirled past, torn to soft fragments by the
gigantic paddle-wheel. Helwyse's beard was wet and his hands sticky
with the salt mist.

Ever and anon sounded the fog-whistle, hoarsely, as though the fog had
got in its throat; and the pale glare of a lantern, fastened aloft
somewhere, lighted up the white issuing steam for a moment. There was
no wind; one was conscious of motion, but all sense of direction and
position--save to the steersman--was lost. Helwyse could see the red
end of his cigar, and very cosey and friendly it looked; but he could
see nothing else.

It is said that staid and respectable people, when thoroughly steeped
in night, will sometimes break out in wild grimaces and o