jetty beside his fathers employer, and he 
wept as though he was broken-hearted, till 
the owner took him to a shop and bought him 
some sweets and toys. In not taking his son 
on that voyage of the Celeste the skipper spared 
the lad — what ? No one can answer that 
question. The weeks passed, two months or 
more. Then suddenly through the State 
Department there came to the owner, from 
the United States Consul at Gibraltar, this 
notice : — 
Gibraltar, January 2nd, 1873, 
The American brig Marie Celeste, of New York, 
was brought: into this port by the British barque 
Dei Gratia. Marie Celeste picked up on high seas 
on December 5th, abandoned. Brig in perfect con- 
dition, but was taken possession of by Admiralty 
Court as a derelict. Fate of crew unknown. 
The owner of the ill-fated brig at once took 
passage for Gibraltar. Before his departure, 
however, he sent a copy of the letter to 
Captain Griggs’s little son. 
“ If only father had taken me along with 
him,” the boy said, “ we should have been 
together and happy now. For when they 
left me and took mother and sister that made 
the ship’s company up to thirteen.” 
At noon on 5th December, 1872, the 
Atlantic, at a point three hundred miles due 
west from Gibraltar, was as smooth as a mill- 
pond, and there were three vessels within 
sight of each other. One was a German 
tramp steamer holding a course for the West 
Indies, and crossing the bows of the brig 
about three miles off. The steamer ran up a 
signal that called for an answer from the 
brig. But the brig sent no answer. She was 
silent. Then, as if saving to the brig, “ Well, 
if you don’t want me to speak to you or 
report you, it’s all the same to me,” the 
tramp held on her course due south, dropping 
at last over the horizon. 
The third vessel was the British barque 
Dei Gratia , Captain Boyce, bound for 
Gibraltar. Captain Boyce, through his tele- 
scope, had seen the signal displayed by the 
tramp steamer when trying to speak to the 
brig. Also, he had waited in vain for an 
answering flag from the Marie Celeste , the 
reply demanded by the common code of 
courtesy on the high seas. 
“ Queer, jolly impolite, when I come to 
think of it,” was the British skipper’s 
comment, and he determined to investigate. 
“ A confounded, surly churl of a sea-dog 
who refused to be spoken at sea.” for the 
Briton was not as lacking in curiosity as his 
brother skipper of the steamer seemed to be. 
Taking every advantage of the cat’s-paw of 
wind from the southward, Captain Boyce ran 
within hailing distance of the silent brig. 
“ There appears to he something amiss with 
that vessel ” he said to his mate, Adams. 
“Aye, sir,” replied the mate; “ she should 
by rights have every inch of sail spread. And 
how she yaws, sir. She acts to me, sir. as 
though the crew were all drunk.” 
They were now within half a mile of the 
Marie Celeste , and both captain and mate 
were scrutinizing closely the queer actions of 
the brig, the captain through his telescope 
and the mate through binoculars. Suddenly, 
at the same moment, both cried, “ Not a 
soul in sight on her decks ! ” 
“ It must be our eyes ; we can’t see them, 
but they're there somewhere, of course,” said 
the skipper. 
There was still no response from the 
brig. 
“ Give ’em an urgent hoist, Adams : that’ll 
get ’em, surely.” 
Forthwith the urgent hoist was run up. 
Still no reply. 
Meanwhile, the behaviour of the brig 
became stranger than ever. The wind had 
