He was received with joyous cries by the winners, and exclamations of disappointment from the losers. The pool was regulated by the following statements:— “The pilot was married.” “He had no wart on his nose.” “He had a light moustache.” “He had jumped on board with both feet.” “Lastly, it was thirty-six minutes past four o’clock when he set foot on the deck of the ‘Great Eastern.’” The possessor of the thirty-third quarter thus gained the ninety-six dollars, and it was Captain Corsican, who had hardly thought of the unexpected gain. It was not long before he appeared on deck, and when the pool was presented to him, he begged Captain Anderson to keep it for the widow of the young sailor whose death had been caused by the inroad of the sea. The Captain shook his hand without saying a word, but a moment afterwards a sailor came up to Corsican, and, bowing awkwardly, “Sir,” said he, “my mates have sent me to say that you are a very kind gentleman, and they all thank you in the name of poor Wilson, who cannot thank you for himself.” The Captain, moved by the rough sailor’s speech, silently pressed his hand. As for the pilot, he was a man of short stature, with not much of the sailor-look about him. He wore a glazed hat, black trousers, a brown overcoat lined with red, and carried an umbrella. He was master on board now. In springing on deck, before he went to the bridge, he had thrown a bundle of papers among the passengers, who eagerly pounced on them. They were European and American journals—the political and civil bonds which again united the “Great Eastern” to the two continents. CHAPTER XXXIII. The storm was gathering, and a black arch of clouds had formed over our heads; the atmosphere was misty; nature was evidently about to justify Dr. Pitferge’s presentiments. The steam-ship had slackened her speed, and the wheels only made three or four revolutions a minute; volumes of white steam escaped from the half-open valves, the anchor-chains were cleared, and the British flag floated from the main-mast; these arrangements Captain Anderson had made preparatory to mooring. The pilot, standing on the top of the starboard paddle, guided the steam-ship through the narrow passages; but the tide was already turning, so that the “Great Eastern” could not yet cross the bar of the Hudson, and we must wait till next day. At a quarter to five by the pilot’s order the anchors were let go; the chains rattled through the hawse-holes with a noise like thunder. I even thought for a moment that the storm had burst forth. When the anchors were firmly embedded in the sand, the “Great Eastern” swung round by the ebb tide, remained motionless, and not a wave disturbed the surface of the water.