ever before gone
out over the waves of that part of the Atlantic; for Frank Harley was a
missionary's son, "going home to be educated," and the sweet, low-voiced
song was a Hindustanee hymn which his mother had taught him in far-away
India.

Suddenly the hymn was cut short by the hoarse voice of the look-out, as
it announced: "A white light, close aboard, on the windward bow."

And that was rapidly followed by even hoarser hails, replied to by a
voice which was clear and strong enough but not hoarse at all. The next
moment something, which was either a white sail or a ghost, came
slipping along through the fog, and then the conversation did not
require to be shouted any longer. Frank could even hear one person say
to another, out there in the mist: "Aint it a big thing, Ford, that you
know French. I mean to study it as soon as we get home."

"It's as easy as eating. Shall I tell 'em we've got some fish?"

"Of course. Sell 'em the whole cargo."

"Sell them? Why not make them a present?"

"We may need the money to get home with. They're a splendid lot. Enough
for the whole cabin full."

"Dat's a fack. Capt'in Dab Kinzer's de man for me, he is."

"How much then?"

"Twenty-five dollars for the lot. They're worth it. 'Specially if we
lose Ham's boat."

Dab's philosophy was a little out of gear, but a perfect rattle of
questions and answers followed, in French, and, somewhat to Frank
Harley's astonishment, the bargain was promptly concluded.

How were they to get the fish on board? Nothing easier, since the little
"Swallow" could run along so nicely under the stern of the great
steamer, while a large basket was swung out at the end of a long,
slender spar, with a pulley to lower and raise it. Even the boys from
Long Island were astonished at the number and size of the prime, freshly
caught blue-fish to which they were treating the passengers of the
"Prudhomme," and the basket had to come and go again and again.

The steamer's steward, on his part, avowed that he had never before met
so honest a lot of Yankee fishermen. Perhaps not; for high prices and
short weight are apt to go together where "luxuries" are selling. The
pay itself was handed out in the same basket which went for the fish.

The wind was not nearly as high as it had been, and the sea had for some
time been going down.

Twenty minutes later, Frank Harley heard, for he understood French very
well:

"Hallo, the boat! What are you following us f