"O, father!" said she, clasping her hands, "forgive your child for being the messenger of bad news."
Morrel again changed color. Julie threw herself into his arms.
"Oh, father, father!" murmured she, "courage!"
"The Pharaon has then perished?" said Morrel in a hoarse voice.
The young girl did not speak; but she made an affirmative sign with her head as she lay on her father's breast.
"And the crew?" asked Morrel.
"Saved," said the girl; "saved by the crew of the vessel that has just entered the harbor."
Morrel raised his two hands to heaven with an expression of resignation and sublime gratitude.
"Thanks, my God," said he; "at least thou strikest but me alone."
Spite of his phlegm, a tear moistened the eye of the Englishman.
"Come in, come in," said Morrel, "for I presume you are all at the door."
Scarcely had he uttered these words than Madame Morrel entered, weeping bitterly; Emmanuel followed her, and in the antechamber were visible the rough faces of seven or eight half-naked sailors. At the sight of these men the Englishman started and advanced a step; then restrained himself, and retired into the farthest and most obscure corner of the apartment.
Madame Morrel sat down by her husband and took one of his hands in hers; Julie still lay with her head on his shoulder; Emmanuel stood in the center of the chamber, and seemed to form the link between Morrel's family and the sailors at the door.
"How did this happen?" said Morrel.
"Draw nearer, Penelon," said the young man, "and relate all."
An old seaman, bronzed by the tropical sun, advanced, twirling the remains of a hat between his hands.
"Good-day, M. Morrel," said he, as if he had just quitted Marseilles the previous evening, and had just returned from Aix or Toulon.
"Good-day, Penelon!" returned Morrel, who could not refrain from smiling through his tears; "where is the captain?"
"The captain, M. Morrel,—he has staid behind sick at Palma; but, please God, it won't be much, and you will see him in a few days all alive and hearty."
"Well, now tell your story, Penelon."
Penelon rolled his quid in his cheek, placed his hand before his mouth, turned his head and sent a long jet of tobacco-juice into the antechamber, advanced his foot, and began.
"You see, M. Morrel," said he, "we were somewhere between Cape
