At four o’clock we came in sight of land stretching before Long Island. It was Fire Island. In the centre rose a lighthouse, which shone over the surrounding land. The passengers again invaded the upper decks and bridges. All eyes were strained towards the coast, distant about six miles. They were waiting for the moment when the arrival of the pilot should settle the great pool business. It may be thought that those who had night quarters, and I was of the number, had given up all pretensions, and that those with the day quarters, except those included between four and six o’clock, had no longer any chance. Before night the pilot would come on board and settle this affair, so that all the interest was now concentrated in the seven or eight persons to whom fate had attributed the next quarters. The latter were taking advantage of their good luck—selling, buying, and reselling their chances, bartering with such energy one might almost have fancied oneself in the Royal Exchange. At sixteen minutes past four a small schooner, bearing towards the steam-ship, was signalled to starboard. There was no longer any possible doubt of its being the pilot’s boat, and he would be on board in fourteen or fifteen minutes at the most. The struggle was now between the possessors of the second and third quarters from four to five o’clock. Demands and offers were made with renewed vivacity. Then absurd wagers were laid even on the pilot’s person, the tenor of which I have faithfully given. “Ten dollars that the pilot is married.” “Twenty that he is a widower.” “Thirty dollars that he has a moustache.” “Sixty that he has a wart on his nose.” “A hundred dollars that he will step on board with his right foot first.” “He will smoke.” “He will have a pipe in his mouth.” “No! a cigar.” “No!” “Yes!” “No!” And twenty other wagers quite as ridiculous, which found those more absurd still to accept them. [Illustration: A SMALL SCHOONER WAS SIGNALLED TO STARBOARD.] In the meanwhile the little schooner was sensibly approaching the steam-ship, and we could distinguish her graceful proportions. These charming little pilot-boats, of about fifty or sixty tons, are good sea-boats, skimming over the water like sea-gulls. The schooner, gracefully inclined, was bearing windward in spite of the breeze, which had begun to freshen. Her mast and foresails stood out clearly against the dark background of clouds, and the sea foamed beneath her bows. When at two cables’ length from the “Great Eastern,” she suddenly veered and launched a shore-boat. Captain Anderson gave orders to heave-to, and for the first time during a fortnight the wheels of the screw were motionless. A man got into the boat, which four sailors quickly pulled to the steam-ship. A rope-ladder was thrown over the side of the giant down to the pilot in his little nutshell, which the latter caught, and, skilfully climbing, sprang on deck.