The nearer they came, the more plainly did the desolation show. In the few weeks they had been gone, the whole town had been swept out of existence by fire; that much they were aware of. But how, when, and why this thing had happened they had of course no possible means as yet of knowing. The _Sea Gull_ anchored in the harbor entrance, for once again, as on her former visit, the tide was wrong for a ship of her size to clear the bar. The largest of her boats was lowered and manned, and Captain Eric, Miss Charity, Mrs. Folger, Milly, Baby Barbee, Erica, and Lis crowded into it. No matter if they overloaded it a bit; the harbor was calm, and the need to learn the extent of the catastrophe at once made them all reckless. The approach of the clipper had drawn a little crowd to the burnt and blackened wreck of the wharf. The sailors had to beach the boat, and help the two ladies and Milly ashore, lifting them over the wet sand. Erica tumbled over the side in Lister’s wake, heedless of wet feet and bedraggled dress hem. The thrilling tale of their sea adventures which she had looked forward to relating was forgotten. It was she who fell eagerly into the rôle of listener now, as, grouped together on the sand, the passengers from the _Sea Gull_ heard the story of the tragedy as related by old friends and neighbors who had come down to welcome them home. Bad as the news was, however, it was not quite so hopeless as a first glimpse of the wreckage alongshore had led them to believe. More than half the town had been saved, owing to a blessed veering of the wind, and the heroic work of the fire-fighters who had not stopped even at dynamiting untouched buildings in the fire’s path, and checking its progress. Trinity Church had gone in the flames, as had the Atheneum, the fine library of which the townspeople were so justly proud. The museum had been destroyed, too, and _every store in the town but one_. In all, about four hundred houses had been demolished, so ran the appalling summing-up. Miss Charity, white-faced, her eyes full of tears, touched the arm of one of the men in the crowd, a retired sea captain who had been a friend of her father’s. “Captain Jem, no one has said—our houses—Callie’s and mine——” she managed to ask between dry lips. The old man put a fatherly hand on her arm. “Untouched, thank the good Lord, Miss Charity,” he said, quickly. “The fire didn’t get to Orange Street—turned off and went north just a few hundred feet from there. But I’m afraid you’ll find uninvited guests crowding both houses, my dear. We had to find shelter for so many, we took the liberty of putting two families in your closed house,” he spoke to Mrs. Folger, across her sister-in-law. “Mrs. Joy, next door, said you’d left the key with her, and it didn’t seem any time to hesitate——”