There, high in the sky, stood the vivid pillar of fire, waving to and fro!
Fidette interpreted the signals that announced my infamous treachery. The proclamation took this form:
“The Caribas is gone! Her Kantoon shall die. A Kantoonship to his captor!”
I took Fidette, dear little creature, in my arms, and, as I kissed her, said:
“They are too late, my pet. Our next address, I hope, will be New York.”
It is quite needless to prolong this narrative further. After two days’ steaming due north the fuel was exhausted and our engine ceased to work. I constructed, from all the blankets on board ship, staysails, with which I was able to keep the Caribas out of the trough of the sea. I gave liberty to only eight members of the crew at a time.
For four days we rode out the ocean swell. We were sighted by the German steamer Nordland, bound from Gibraltar to New York. She soon came within hailing distance. The Nordland’s second officer was sent aboard us. To him I recounted briefly our situation. He returned to his ship, and twenty men came to aid me in bringing the Caribas into port.
A line was passed to us, and six days of slow steaming brought us to New York, where we anchored in the Horseshoe.
All the cities of America are great; but New York—New York is greatest of all, because it owes everything to the sea.