"You are a younger man than I am, Christophe, and you have slept only a couple of hours to-night," said M. Rubempre, as soon as the Eleuthera was well under way; and the remark was called forth by a long gape on the part of the younger person. "You can turn in and sleep a couple of hours more just as well as not, for there is nothing whatever for you to do. We may have to make a long day of it to-morrow." "I am accustomed to doing without my sleep at times," replied Christophe, which was his first name, according to the French orthography, and was pronounced in two syllables. "Of course you have, when your duty required you to be on deck; but there is not the least need of doing so now." The lieutenant complied with the advice of the skipper, and in five minutes more he was sound asleep. The Bahama boat, with a Bahama name, rose and fell on the long rolling seas, which were very gentle in their motion, and made very good progress through the water. The light could be plainly seen in its lofty position, and the detective steered for it over an hour, and then kept it a little on the starboard hand; for the opening in the outer reef through which he intended to pass was two miles to the westward of the high tower. He had correctly estimated the speed of the boat, for the faint light of the dawn of day began to appear in the east when he was able clearly to discern the outline of the hills on the most southern of the islands. Although it was still quite dark, the Frenchman continued on his course very confidently. The reefs extended out two miles from the main shore; but the navigator was so familiar with the locality that they did not trouble him. Bearing about north-west from the light was Wreck Hill, one hundred and fifty feet high, which assisted him in keeping his course. As he approached the mainland he made out the fort, and steering directly for it, passed safely through Hogfish Cut. When he was within half a mile of this fort, he headed the boat to the north-west. It was still eighteen miles to Hamilton, the capital of the islands; but he had a fair wind, and the boat made about five miles an hour. Christy still slept, and the skipper did not wake him. It was daylight when he was abreast of Wreck Hill, and there was no further difficulty in the navigation. It was half-past eight when he ran up to a pier where he had kept his boat in former days. There were plenty of just such crafts as the Eleuthera, and no attention was paid to her as she passed along the Front-street docks. The pier at which he made his landing was in a retired locality. He lowered the sails, and had made everything snug on board before he called his companion. "Half-past eight, Christophe," said he at the door of the cuddy. "Half-past eight!" exclaimed Christy, springing out of his berth on the floor. "Where are we now, M. Rubempre?"