The lumber cargo realized a trifle over $6,000 at auction, but the brig’s hull had been badly strained and battered in the last gale, and brought only $500. Her age, combined with her severe injuries, made it unprofitable to put her in sea-going condition, and she was converted into a lighter for transferring merchandise about Boston harbor, in which humble capacity she will probably end her days. THE MONOMANIAC. CHAPTER I. [Picture: The Monomaniac] The homeward passage from New Zealand is made via Cape Horn, and as westerly winds prevail all over the South Pacific, the craft bound back to the States has everything in her favor. Five weeks had elapsed since the thousand-ton bark _Western Belle_ sailed from Auckland and Wellington for Boston, and on this June morning she was in the South Atlantic, steering a north-easterly course. It was evidently mid-day, for the captain and mate were squinting at the sun through their sextants; while a young lady stood near, wondering, as she had often done before, how it was possible for such queer-looking instruments to aid in determining their exact position upon so vast an expanse of water. She was slightly above the medium height, and decidedly pretty, with a fine color in her cheeks. The sun’s rays and ocean’s breezes had tanned her fair skin until, as she expressed it, “her dearest friends couldn’t have told her from a South Sea Islander.” A heavy blue flannel dress, sailor blouse, jaunty cap kept in place by a long pin, and rubber-soled tennis shoes—the finest things in the world to keep one’s footing in a heavy, sea—completed the picture; and there you have Miss Laura Blake. “What would become of us, Captain, if you and Mr. Bohlman were to fall overboard, or otherwise disappear from the scene? It never occurred to me before, but there would be no one left to bring us into port. Mr. Freeman knows nothing about taking sights.” Miss Blake said this half in jest, half in earnest. The captain regarded it as a good joke. “No, the second mate has never used a sextant, I believe, though he could doubtless navigate the bark for some time by dead reckoning. Meanwhile, my dear young lady, you and Mrs. Evans could study my Epitome, and learn to take the sun yourselves.” The idea of her aunt “taking the sun” caused a quick smile to overspread Miss Laura’s features. “I’m afraid the _Western Belle_ would soon run ashore, or go to the bottom, if we women undertook to sail her,” she replied. “As the widow of a sea-captain, Aunt Sarah believes she knows all about ships, but I fear it would require even more than her nautical knowledge to bring us into port.” Captain Maxwell shared this opinion, but he was far too gallant a man to say so.