“Leave off!” cried the Emperor, “Does one die in such a silly way?” “If they had fallen overboard, little Delphin would have been here by this!” All Coqueville had to agree, Delphin swam like a herring. But where then could the three men be? They shouted: “I tell you, yes!”--“I tell you, no!”--“Too stupid!”--“Stupid yourself!” And matters came to the point of exchanging blows. The Abbé Radiguet was obliged to make an appeal for reconciliation, while the Emperor hustled the crowd about to establish order. Meanwhile, the bark, without haste, continued to dance before the world. It waltzed, seeming to mock at the people; the sea carried her in, making her salute the land in long rhythmic reverences. Surely it was a bark in a crazy fit. Margot, her cheeks between her hands, kept always gazing. A yawl had just put out of the harbor to go to meet the “Baleine.” It was Brisemotte, who had exhibited that impatience, as if he had been delayed in giving certainty to Rouget’s wife. From that moment all Coqueville interested itself in the yawl. The voices rose higher: “Well, does he see anything?” The “Baleine” advanced with her mysterious and mocking air. At last they saw him draw himself up and look into the bark that he had succeeded in taking in tow. All held their breath. But, abruptly, he burst out laughing. That was a surprise; what had he to be amused at? “What is it? What have you got there?” they shouted to him furiously. He, without replying, laughed still louder. He made gestures as if to say that they would see. Then having fastened the “Baleine” to the yawl, he towed her back. And an unlooked-for spectacle stunned Coqueville. In the bottom of the bark, the three men--Rouget, Delphin, Fouasse--were beatifically stretched out on their backs, snoring, with fists clenched, dead drunk. In their midst was found a little cask stove in, some full cask they had come across at sea and which they had appreciated. Without doubt, it was very good, for they had drunk it all save a liter’s worth which had leaked into the bark and which was mixed with the sea water. “Ah! the pig!” cried the wife of Rouget, brutally, ceasing to whimper. “Well, it’s characteristic--their catch!” said La Queue, who affected great disgust. “Forsooth!” replied the Emperor, “they catch what they can! They have at least caught a cask, while others have not caught anything at all.”