“I’m gettin’ too old for this work,” Andrew continued, “and if the cap’n says a good word for me, I’ll try and get in the Sailors’ Snug Harbor when we comes back to New York. Sure, I’ve been goin’ to sea forty-six year, and I’m no better off now nor I was when I began. They teached me tailorin’ when I was in the pen, but I’d ship on twenty more voyages afore I’d shut myself up in a little shop on shore where they ain’t room to breathe. But I’m a lucky old cuss” (with a laugh), “for I ain’t never been wrecked in all my time at sea,—no, nor ever seed a wreck.” “Andrew’s going to turn into a tough old albatross when he slips his cable,” put in Gene, a smile on his clear-cut features. “Be careful ye don’t turn into a molly-hawk yourself, ye French devil,” retorted San Quentin, hurling his sheath-knife in the air, and dexterously catching the descending point on the tip of his little finger. “Tumble out, mates,” called a sailor, poking his head through the door. “There’s somethin’ up. All hands aft is squintin’ through the glass at what the matey says is a boat.” This news brought everyone out on deck in a hurry. Quite a distance from the ship, a small object floated on the swell,—now lifted high on a sea, then disappearing from view in the trough. The officers had been examining it through the telescope for some time, Mr. Marsh finally declaring it to be a boat. The sight of a solitary boat in such a place gave rise to much speculation, and when the calm was replaced by a gentle breeze, the course was changed so as to bring the waif alongside. Within an hour the tiny craft was close by, and a melancholy spectacle she presented. Bottom upward, with jagged splinters projecting from her shattered sides, she floated by on the sportive waves—an eloquent symbol of recent disaster. How had she come there? Where were her late occupants? None could tell but old ocean, glittering in the frosty sunshine. Upon her stern were the words “Dundee, of Liverpool.” The captain was about to go below in order to look up the _Dundee_ in the shipping register, when a sailor hailed the deck from aloft. A vessel was visible far to the south! The mate ascended the rigging, followed by the passengers; and sure enough, the naked eye beheld a shadowy ship on the horizon which the glass magnified into a wreck. All was excitement; the course was again changed, and the ship bore down for the distant vessel. She was nearly twenty miles away; the breeze was provokingly light, and it seemed an age before the _Sagamore_ drew near the stranger.