“Ship ahoy!” shouted the officer of the deck, through the speaking-trumpet which had been supplied by Mr. Fluxion; for this instrument meant twice as much to him as to any other officer in the squadron. “On board the steamer!” replied a man on the deck of the hulk. “What vessel is that?” “The ship Castle William, from Calcutta to Portsmouth, with invalid troops!” yelled the man on the deck of the wreck; and there seemed to be not more than three men on duty there. “Tell him we will send a boat on board,” said the captain; and Raymond repeated the words. “Don’t do it!” shouted the man earnestly. “We have small-pox and typhoid-fever on board.” “Phew! here’s a nice kettle of fish!” exclaimed O’Hara. “Keep to windward, and come a little nearer!” called the spokesman of the wreck. The captain gave the necessary orders to back the Ville d’Angers, and run up a little nearer to the wreck. Taking the suggestion of the man on the hulk, he thought there would not be any danger in going to windward of her. “Do you hear that, Clinch?” said Gregory, with no little excitement in his manner. “There is small-pox and typhoid-fever on board of that wreck; and O’Hara is going to get nearer to her.” “I don’t like the idea,” added Clinch. “Capt. O’Hara, I protest against going any nearer to that vessel!” said Gregory, walking up to the captain, and touching his cap as he spoke. “She has contagious diseases on board of her; and we shall all take them.” “There is no danger, I think, while we keep well to windward of her. The breeze is pretty fresh, and I don’t believe the disease can travel up against it,” replied O’Hara, mindful of what had passed between Tom Speers and himself, though he was at first inclined to make no reply to the protest. “I don’t think it is safe: I protest, and insist that the steamer be put on her course to the Madeiras!” added Gregory, in a very offensive manner. “Shall we abandon this wreck, without even ascertaining whether or not she needs any assistance?” demanded O’Hara, with some indignation in his tones. “You need not go any nearer to her, at any rate,” replied Gregory, somewhat shaken by this argument; for all the students had been thoroughly schooled in the lesson of humanity, that every sailor was bound to assist every other sailor in distress. The captain made no further reply to the first officer. Possibly he did not run the steamer as near to the wreck, for he directed the course, as he might have done if Gregory had said nothing. The Ville d’Angers was stopped on the quarter of the wreck, and at about half a cable’s length from it. “How many have you on board?” asked O’Hara, taking the trumpet from the officer of the deck. “Thirty-two,” replied the spokesman of the wreck. “Are you the captain?” “No; he is down with fever: I am the mate.” “How many sick have you?” “All but three men,--myself and two seamen. Five of the crew have died, and eight are sick.”