"You got 'em all right, and that'll put it out o' their heads to bother with the _Aurora_ to-night, though"--he cocked up an ear to the whistle of a rising breeze--"it begins to feel like they wouldn't 'a' gone out anyway--it's breezing up so." "Where's she layin'?" "Off the end o' the big dock. An' if it keeps on breezin' they won't be goin' out in the mornin' either. A bad time anyway to put out on a cruise--Christmas Day. But what d'y' say, Alec, if we take a look around the place?" We'd got a pretty good start for Christmas Eve, and around Saint Pierre we went, Sam and Archie and four men of the _Lucy Foster's_ crew who'd been in the mix-up. They were ready to tear things up, but there wasn't much to tear up, because everybody heard us coming, and whenever we'd get to a place, we'd find the doors locked and the windows barred. The only place not locked that night was the little cathedral, and by and by, when we found there was no place else to go, we all went in there. It was a midnight mass being celebrated, and it was the sound of the choir voices coming from there that got us, and, Catholics or no, no matter, we all went in and heard mass, too, and when we came out, not feeling like trouble any more, we all went down to old Antone's and turned in. Christmas morning everybody was feeling better, all but Sam Leary and me. I was thinking of my vessel, and Sam of his big turkey. He wanted to get that turkey. He wasn't going to leave Saint Pierre till he got it back. No, sir, he wasn't. And he had a pretty good notion just where it was then. Up to Argand's, cooking for Henri's Christmas dinner. Or maybe him gettin' fifty cents a plate for it for customers' dinners. And he'd cut up for about forty platefuls. And for forty plates at fifty cents or two francs a plate. "Mong doo an' sankantoon," yells Sam all at once. "Come on, Archie--come on, fellows"--and up the street went Sam and Archie and the four of the _Lucy Foster's_ crew to see about the turkey. But that wasn't getting me my vessel, and I went down to the water-front to look for her. There she was, my lovely _Aurora_, to anchor in the stream, and there was me on the end of the dock looking at her, and that's all I could do--look at her. She was lying to two anchors and with her mains'l standing. A little further off shore and even her two anchors couldn't 've kept her from dragging and piling up on the rocks with that mains'l up, for a rocky harbor is Saint Pierre, and now it was blowing a living gale of wind. While I was standing there on the big dock, along comes the trader Miller with another chap. He must 've seen me, but he pretended not, and I didn't make any sign I saw him. He pointed out the _Aurora_ to the man, saying a few things in French. And then he raised his voice. "When it moderates she will depart--and with a car-go," he said--the last in English, and by that I knew he meant it for me. "Go on," I grit out, "go on, have your fun."