"Indeed it may," responded the other, heartily; "and our present
business is to discover just such cases as you describe. Although the
_Merab_ is, as you see, a private yacht, in which we happened to put
into New Orleans during a winter cruise to the southward, she is at
present in the service of the Red Cross Society, of which I am a
member, and devoted to the relief of sufferers by this awful flood.
May I ask your name? Mine is Coffin--Tristram Coffin; though I am
better known as Breeze McCloud, and that of my friend (here he turned
to another young man, also in navy blue) is Mr. Wolfe Brady."
Half an hour later the beautiful _Merab_ lay at anchor as near the
stranded raft as it was safe to venture, and its occupants were being
transferred to her hospitable deck by one of her boats. Another boat,
laden with provisions, was on its way to the starving refugees in the
great house.
The young owner of the _Merab_ insisted that all those who came from
the raft should be his guests, at least for that night.
The invitation was accepted as promptly and heartily as it had been
given, and soon afterwards two very hungry but very merry parties sat
down to bountiful dinners in two entirely distinct parts of the yacht.
Along the mess-table of the galley--or the "camboose," as the yacht's
cook insisted upon calling it--were ranged three gentlemen of color,
each of whom treated his companions with the greatest deference, though
at the same time believing himself to be just a little better posted in
culinary matters than either of the others.
Pages:
287
288
289
290
291
292
293
294
295
296
297
298
299
300
301
302
303
304
305
306
307
308
309
310
311