ACROSS 
 
 THE 
 LATITUDES 
 
 JOHN FLEMING WILSON
 
 THE LIBRARY 
 
 OF 
 
 THE UNIVERSITY 
 OF CALIFORNIA 
 
 LOS ANGELES 
 
 GIFT OF 
 
 WILLIAM P.. WREDEN
 

 
 ACROSS THE LATITUDES
 
 Our men were boiling for a scrap, tough as knots. 
 
 FRONTISPIECE. Ste page, 203
 
 ACROSS 
 THE LATITUDES 
 
 BY 
 
 JOHN FLEMING WILSON 
 
 AUTHOR OF "THE LAND CLAIMERS," ETC. 
 
 ILLUSTRATED 
 
 BOSTON 
 
 LITTLE, BROWN, AND COMPANY 
 1911
 
 Copyright, 1911, 
 BY LITTLE, BROWN, & COMPANY. 
 
 All righto reserved 
 Published, October, 1911 
 
 THE UNIVERSITY FMCM, CAM BRIDGE, U. 8. A.
 
 fS 
 
 TO 
 MY FRIENDS 
 
 OF 
 
 THE SS. HANALEI 
 
 734035
 
 CONTENTS 
 
 PAGE 
 CHIEF ENGINEER MICHAEL O'RouRKE 
 
 I Order No. 113 1 
 
 II Tad Sheldon, Second Class Scout .... 38 
 
 III A Perilous Philanthropy 63 
 
 THE UNWILLING WAR CORRESPONDENT 80 
 
 THE BAD EGG 122 
 
 NEIGHBORS 158 
 
 THE SCHOONER MARY E. FOSTER: GUARDIAN . . . 187 
 
 T. HALDANE'S BEQUEST 218 
 
 THE OLDEST JOURNALIST IN THE SOUTH SEAS 
 
 I The Persistence of the Uninspired . . . . 236 
 
 II On Kindilini 254 
 
 STRANGE PORTS 279 
 
 JAMES GALBRAITH, ABLE-BODIED SEAMAN .... 298 
 
 THE VOICE OF AUTHORITY 321 
 
 THE DOG 343 
 
 A PERIODICAL PROSELYTE 358
 
 ILLUSTRATIONS 
 
 Our men were boiling for a scrap, tough as knots Frontispiece 
 "For the love of mercy, what is that?" I yelled . Page 58 
 'Twas Tommy Stubbs, dirty, forlorn and desp'rit " 77 
 " You men get forward and below to your work " . " 138 
 
 " If the ship will pay time and a half we '11 stow 
 this lumber, Captain," he said ........ " 174 
 
 Even the cook came in answer to that fierce cry . " 224 
 Rapp and his wife rose to their feet and walked 
 
 feebly out " 375
 
 ACROSS THE LATITUDES 
 
 CHIEF ENGINEER MICHAEL 
 O'ROURKE 
 
 OEDEK No. 113 
 
 COMMANDEK HALE'S thoughts traveled straight from the 
 lofty office down the Columbia River and out on the 
 Pacific to a brick-red vessel with stumpy masts. His 
 quiet, tired eyes half closed as the picture of this farthest 
 outpost of his command rose before him, tossing on the 
 bright, lonely sea, tugging at the slender steel cable that 
 marked the authority of the United States Lighthouse 
 Establishment. Columbia River Light- Vessel No. 188, 
 as her official title ran, was new, built to replace faithful 
 old No. 153, which for so many years had clung to her 
 desolate post, suffering the terrific punishment of month- 
 long hurricanes, the scars of collision, going adrift in 
 roaring gales, but always coming back to the job till 
 that last occasion that erased her from the list and put 
 No. 188 in her place. 
 
 Now the Commander lately transferred from a 
 cruiser to this lofty and busy office was confronted
 
 2 ACROSS THE LATITUDES 
 
 with the task of picking out a new master for the new 
 vessel. His choice stood before him, young, eager and 
 confident. And in his freshly chosen subordinate's atti 
 tude Hale thought that he saw still another thing that 
 was new not a man or a ship this time, but an idea. 
 
 With old No. 153 there had passed an era as well. 
 Hale resented it ; what had the great, vigilant, unweary 
 ing, patient Lighthouse Establishment to do with a 
 strange idea? And such an idea, too. It was prepos 
 terous. No. 188 vanished from his mind's eye and he 
 frowned on the new captain. " What was that you just 
 said ? " he inquired of the young man. 
 
 John Ethan Lethbridge, with his new appointment in 
 his pocket, smiled confidently. " I merely remarked, sir, 
 that I would be the first and only American in command 
 of a light-ship on this coast." 
 
 The Commander's frown deepened. " All the officers 
 of this service are American citizens," he said stiffly. 
 " And I believe most of the seamen are, too." 
 
 Lethbridge nodded, paying no attention to the Com 
 mander's frown. " Oh, I don't mean they are n't citi 
 zens, and all that," he said easily. " But look at 'em 
 Oleson, Larsen, Svensen, Rasmussen, Jurgenson, Niel 
 sen and you '11 have to acknowledge that your light- 
 vessels are captained by Scandinavians. I understand 
 there are a few Irish and Scotch in the engine-rooms. 
 You see what I mean, sir. I '11 be the only real Ameri 
 can among them." 
 
 The Commander made no reply and Lethbridge went 
 on : "I 've always felt that it was a shame to have good
 
 MICHAEL O'ROURKE 3 
 
 American vessels in the hands of foreigners, and I 'm 
 glad you 've broken the old custom, sir, and have n't 
 handed over Government jobs to men who have no claim 
 at all except that they 've signed papers and lived so 
 long in this country. Just remember, sir, that there 'a 
 an American out on No. 188." 
 
 There was a brief silence. Hale raised his eyes from 
 the desk and said in a curt, official voice : " I '11 remem 
 ber that, Captain Lethbridge. I am not aware that any 
 officer of this service has ever shown himself delinquent 
 in his duty, however, and you owe your own appointment 
 merely to your standing in the examination and your 
 general character. Of course I 'm glad you are a native- 
 born American, but I have no criticism to make of any 
 of the men in the Establishment. I suppose you have 
 studied the book of instructions? I wish to call your 
 particular attention to Order ~No. 113. It is one rule 
 that we never break in this service, Captain. You ob 
 serve that it forbids you to leave your station under any 
 circumstances whatever without special orders from this 
 office. That means that the only excuse you have for 
 coming into port is if your moorings carry away entirely. 
 It is distinctly to be understood that there are no cir 
 cumstances that will justify your heaving up anchor or 
 slipping your cable. The Government expects every 
 light-vessel to be in its place at all times and in all 
 weathers." 
 
 Lethbridge seemed about to say something, but merely 
 nodded. Hale handed him a fresh copy of his orders, 
 dismissed him and rang for the chief clerk.
 
 When that kindly and experienced man came to a halt 
 before his desk Hale looked up at him and demanded, 
 " Who is the mate of No. 188? " 
 
 " Nicholas Sunni," was the reply. 
 
 " What nationality ? " 
 
 " Finn," was the laconic answer. 
 
 " And the chief engineer ? " pursued Hale. 
 
 " O'Kourke, sir." 
 
 " Irish, of course ? " 
 
 " Born on the old sod," said the grave clerk. 
 
 Hale made a gesture of dismay. " Lethbridge seems 
 to think the service has gone over to the foreigners com 
 pletely," he said. " The man actually congratulated 
 me on getting an American master for No. 188" 
 
 The clerk bowed slightly, coughed and suggested, " All 
 the officers in the Establishment are Americans, sir. It 
 is the law." 
 
 Hale flushed. " Quite right. I meant ' American- 
 born.' As you say, all our men are citizens, and there 
 can be no complaint on that score. But I wish I had 
 given Lethbridge a ship with fewer nationalities among 
 its officers. I suppose there is no other officer on board 
 who might meet Lethbridge's expectations ? Who is the 
 assistant engineer ? " 
 
 " Macpherson," said the clerk, smiling gently. " Al 
 exander Macpherson. He 's the chap that brought the 
 Kilday in seven years ago after the boilers had given out 
 and killed a dozen men. Been in our service ever since 
 that happened." 
 
 " He must be a good man, even if he is n't what Leth-
 
 bridge calls an American," Hale commented, and he 
 turned to his mail. 
 
 That evening the Commander of the One Hundred 
 and Twenty-Third Lighthouse District read the follow 
 ing paragraph in his afternoon paper : 
 
 Captain John Ethan Lethbridge, formerly of the steamer 
 Cape May, has received the appointment of master of Columbia 
 River Light- Vessel No. 188, the new light-ship that has just 
 been assigned to the station off the bar. Captain Lethbridge's 
 appointment seems to mark a new departure in the lighthouse 
 service, as it has been a matter of frequent complaint that the 
 Government has accepted foreign-born masters and mates con 
 stantly in preference to Americans born and bred. Along the 
 water-front the hope was expressed today that Commander 
 Hale, just assigned to this district, will continue to recognize 
 the efficiency of American-born officers and relieve the Light 
 house Establishment from the odium of being manned entirely 
 by foreigners who have taken out citizenship papers. Captain 
 Lethbridge, while yet a young man, exemplifies a high type of 
 the American seaman who made our flag famous years ago. 
 He left this evening to take command of No. 188, relieving 
 Mate Nicholas Sunni, who has been in charge since the resig 
 nation of Captain Sven Svensen last month. 
 
 The Commander reread this, laid the paper down and 
 shook his head. He suddenly realized that the new idea 
 had sprung into a mature and dangerous existence. The 
 law made no distinction between the native and foreign- 
 born American in the lighthouse service. It had gone 
 ahead, for years, guarding the coasts of two great oceans, 
 watching over the welfare of the world's commerce, and 
 the question had never arisen whether American-born 
 Jones or Swedish-born Oleson had been the better, more 
 faithful servant. And yet
 
 6 ACROSS THE LATITUDES 
 
 Hale saw the other side of the question. The ambi 
 tious and patriotic American was anxious to see his Gov 
 ernment's vessels in the hands of fellow-countrymen. 
 He might judge the naturalized citizen unjustly, but the 
 prejudice was deep-seated, and, the Commander had to 
 acknowledge within himself, it might easily become a 
 slogan. Then, when this new idea became a war-cry, 
 how was he, the Commander, to be just and fair ? For 
 instance, there was Svensen. He had served long and 
 well. It was Svensen who had hung to his moorings that 
 time when the huge Glenfalcon had driven staunch No. 
 153 deep into the water, crushing her gallant little hull 
 into the boiling brine. Hale recalled reading the dusty 
 reports about that episode, the Glenfalcon s story of a 
 ship held unmanageable betwixt wind and tide, and some 
 tugboat skipper's brief note that " No. 153 appeared in 
 sinking condition at sunset with rising wind and sea, but 
 master refused assistance. Saw lights lit as usual be 
 tween squalls." He saw again that thumbed report of 
 Svensen's, wherein the old captain had set down, in a 
 cramped hand : " Were run into by Ship Glenfalcon at 
 4 p. M. ... Kept crew at pumps and lit lights four 
 minutes late owing to carrying away of forward lamp- 
 house and lamp. Night squally. Kept lights bright till 
 vessel sank at 6 :15 A. M., when took to boats, arriving in 
 Astoria same night ; all hands safe." 
 
 " Good old Svensen ! " thought the Commander ; 
 " with his scrupulous fidelity to his orders, his sedulous 
 lighting of the great lamps on his wallowing and sinking 
 craft, his grim ' Kept lights bright till vessel sank.' "
 
 MICHAEL O'ROURKE 7 
 
 But Svensen was a Swede, and according to the evening 
 paper the Lighthouse Establishment bore a degree of 
 odium because it had delivered the keeping of its vessels 
 to men of alien birth. Hale dropped the paper and mut 
 tered : "I don't like the notion Lethbridge has ; it is n't 
 fair. And yet I hope it works out all right." 
 
 Fifty miles away, in a railway car swinging along the 
 Columbia's steep cliffs, Captain Lethbridge was cutting 
 the same paragraph out of his paper with a sharp knife. 
 He snapped the blade to with a quick, satisfied gesture 
 and reread the item. Then he carefully tucked it into 
 his wallet together with his new master's papers, some 
 blank forms for reports and a receipted bill for wet- 
 weather clothes. A slight flush warmed his eager face 
 as he stared out of the window at the wide, shadowy 
 river. He saw its debouchment into the sea, the quick 
 run of the surf along the jetties, the smoke of the tugs, 
 the jumping bar buoys, and, flung against the horizon, 
 the image of his new command, No. 188. " It '11 be 
 rather slow," he meditated. " But a good man can wake 
 up even a light-ship. And they need a good, active man 
 on one of 'em just to show how it ought to be done. 
 Maybe the Commander will see how much better it is 
 to have a hustling American in charge of a vessel, and 
 then he '11 quit having these old Swedes and Norwegians 
 and foreigners on 'em, and we boys will have a chance 
 to do things up to date and in real American style." 
 
 He turned to answer a low-voiced greeting from a 
 bulky man whom he recognized as Jurgenson, master 
 of the Lighthouse Tender Eucalyptus. Jurgenson sat
 
 8 ACROSS THE LATITUDES 
 
 heavily down beside him and remarked, " So you 're 
 going out to take No. 188, Captain ? " 
 
 " Yes," said Lethbridge curtly. 
 
 " I think she 's a good vessel," Jurgenson went on sol 
 emnly, filling his pipe and cramming the tobacco down 
 with a stubby finger. " That 's a hard station. I 
 thought Svensen would keep her. I hear he 's resigned." 
 
 "' So he has," Lethbridge assented. Jurgenson stared 
 out of the window into the darkness. " I was mate with 
 Svensen before I went to No. 167, up on Swiftsure 
 Bank," he remarked. " Good man. Getting old, I 
 guess. Thought he 'd die in the service." 
 
 "He lost No. 153," Lethbridge offered, as a half 
 explanation. 
 
 Jurgenson nodded. " Yes. Kept her afloat all night 
 and the lamps burning. Todd of the Wasp wanted to 
 tow him in that night. Svensen climbed up on the rail 
 and megaphoned across, ' I ain't got no orders to leave 
 yet, Cap'n ! ' Todd, never being in the service, thought 
 the old man was crazy to stick to his moorings, and al 
 most grabbed old 153 by force to take her in and beach 
 her. But Svensen, he just said he had n't got no orders 
 to leave his station and kept his lamps bright, and so old 
 153 sank and Svensen and his crew had to pull twelve 
 hours in a small boat across a smoky bar." 
 
 " Svensen would have saved a hundred thousand dol 
 lars' worth of property if he 'd allowed Todd to bring 
 him in," Lethbridge said impatiently. " The Govern 
 ment does n't expect a man to be a fool about such things. 
 'A master of a lightship ought to use some judgment."
 
 MICHAEL O'ROURKE 9 
 
 The other captain puffed slowly on his pipe. " Well, 
 orders are to hang on to your moorings till you 're or 
 dered in," he said calmly. " Svensen obeyed orders." 
 
 " That may be all right for you fellows," Lethbridge 
 said with total disregard of Jurgenson's feelings. " You 
 men who were n't born here can't be expected to take any 
 responsibility. But I '11 bet an American skipper would 
 have brought old 153 in, saved his Government a hun 
 dred thousand dollars, and showed his sense." 
 
 Jurgenson digested this slowly. Then he said, with 
 grim quietness : " I saw that piece in the paper. I 'm 
 an American, Captain, if I was born in Norway, and 
 I Ve been an American as long as you have, even if you 
 were born one. And I think that orders are orders. 
 Svensen figured out that he was put there to keep those 
 lights bright, and he kept 'em burning till his vessel sank 
 which was more than a hundred thousand dollars." 
 Jurgenson got up and tramped heavily away down the 
 aisle. Lethbridge was embarrassed, for he realized that 
 he had offended one of the oldest men in the service, and 
 this had been unwise on the part of one of the youngest. 
 " But he '11 have to wake up and listen to straight talk 
 before long," he comforted himself. " ~No commander 
 expects his captains to make idiots of themselves for the 
 sake of an order like that." 
 
 Eighteen hours later Lethbridge swung himself down 
 into the tender's small boat that was to convey him across 
 a quarter of a mile of tumbling water to No. 188. Jur 
 genson waved a friendly hand to him from the Eucalyp 
 tus' deck and called out : " I 've told the steward to give
 
 10 ACROSS THE LATITUDES 
 
 you a quarter of fresh, beef, Captain. You '11 need it 
 before we get your quarterly supplies out to you. This 
 nice weather is n't going to last long." 
 
 Lethbridge called back thanks and turned his eyes to 
 his new command. She seemed very small as she lay 
 heaving to her anchor. Stumpy masts, dwarfish lamp- 
 houses and a flush deck gave her almost a miniature as 
 pect. After all, she did n^t amount to much ; he was 
 sorry he had left the merchant service for the Establish 
 ment. This was n't a young man's work, sticking to a 
 mushroom anchor. It was a job for old fellows like 
 these foreigners. 
 
 He crawled up the ladder to the lightship's deck and 
 shook hands with the mate, who seemed glad to see him. 
 Then he waved his hand to the officer in the small boat, 
 glanced around and followed Sunni down the steep steps 
 to the cabin. 
 
 In its cramped space, with stateroom doors giving into 
 it on both sides, Lethbridge felt better. He noticed that 
 the mate was in full uniform. His own dress gave a good 
 reflection back from the mirror above the sideboard, 
 making a general air of official importance. No. 188, 
 small as she was, belonged to the Government, and he, 
 Lethbridge, was master of her. He asked for the log 
 book. 
 
 Sunni nodded. " You will find it on the shelf behind 
 you, Captain," he said with a distinctly foreign accent. 
 
 Lethbridge turned and picked out the big volume and 
 sat down in a swinging chair with it open before him on 
 the table.
 
 MICHAEL O'ROURKE 11 
 
 " Everything all right ? " he demanded. 
 
 Sunni sat down across the little table and answered, 
 " All quite right. Did you bring off any fresh meat ? " 
 
 " Yes," said Lethbridge indifferently. " And, by the 
 way, I Ve got some mail for you." 
 
 The mate brightened up, his gray mustache lifting to 
 display full, mobile lips. He took the packet Lethbridge 
 handed him and went through it, picking out a couple 
 of letters which he dropped into his pocket. Then he 
 said, " I '11 take the mail for'ad to the boys. I '11 be 
 back in a moment." The door slid open and closed 
 behind him. 
 
 " That fellow has no business being mate," Leth 
 bridge said to himself. " He 's old and I '11 bet he 's 
 rheumatic as well." He determined to ask for a new 
 officer next time he wrote to the commander. " I '11 tell 
 him we need an energetic American," he thought. 
 
 Sunni returned to say, " The ship 's all cleaned up, 
 Captain. I Ve just let the men go below to read their 
 mail." 
 
 Lethbridge glanced at the clock. " Short morning's 
 work," he remarked dryly. 
 
 Sunni looked down at the two letters he had with 
 drawn from his pocket and said nothing for a moment. 
 Then he suggested, " We always give them an afternoon 
 below these days." 
 
 " What days ? " 
 
 " Days we clean the ship," Sunni answered. " They 
 appreciate it." 
 
 " I imagine they appreciate anything that does n't
 
 12 ACROSS THE LATITUDES 
 
 look like work," Lethbridge snapped, and plunged into 
 the log-book. The mate glanced at him inquiringly, 
 got up and went into his own room, where he carefully 
 opened his letters with a knife and sat down on the edge 
 of the bunk to read them. He sighed gently as he 
 turned the closely written pages, but the slow expiration 
 of his breath seemed more an involuntary yielding to the 
 motion of the ship than an expression of sadness. He 
 did n't hear the captain's call till it had been repeated. 
 Then he laid the letters down, weighted by the knife, and 
 took the two steps needful to bring him into the cabin 
 again. Lethbridge was holding the log-book open with 
 one hand while he figured with a pencil in the other. 
 " How much coal does she burn a day ? " he demanded. 
 
 The mate shook his head. " The chief knows," he re 
 sponded. " I can't tell exactly." 
 
 " Where is the chief engineer ? " 
 
 Sunni left the cabin and returned with a small, 
 heavily mustached man who bowed and looked at Leth 
 bridge out of bright eyes. " Did ye want me, misther ? " 
 he inquired. 
 
 " You are Mr. O'Rourke ? " demanded Lethbridge. 
 
 " Oi om," said the chief engineer. " Me mother chris 
 tened me Mickey, but Oi'm Misther O'Rourke now, 
 thank God and the Governmint of the Unithed Sthates." 
 
 " How much coal do you burn a day ? " Lethbridge 
 said stiffly. 
 
 The chief engineer slid into a chair and shook his 
 head dolefully. " Now you 're askin' me a quistion it 
 breaks me heart to answer, misther," he said. " On ould
 
 MICHAEL O'ROURKE 13 
 
 153 we cud kape the stheam up, condinse our dhrinkin' 
 watther and have a bit bye for the cook's taypot and only 
 burn a ton or maybe two hundred pound beyond. But 
 188 and Oi'm not sayin' a wurd aginst her, misther 
 ates up an unhowly amount of coal. Ye see, 
 misther " 
 
 Lethbridge felt that he was being made a fool of, and 
 said curtly, " How much does this vessel burn a day ? " 
 
 O'Rourke tossed grimy hands in comic discomfiture. 
 " It 's all down in the little book," he asserted earnestly. 
 " Misther Macpherson sets it all down each day, sor, 
 and a betther engineer than Macpherson don't breathe 
 air he 's a grand mon, sor, and he sets all thim little 
 things down in the book ivery day, as you '11 see for 
 yoursilf, misther." 
 
 Lethbridge stared, saw a faint smile on the mate's 
 face, and rose from his place. " Things have been going 
 pretty slackly on this ship," he remarked, " when the 
 chief engineer does n't even know how much coal his 
 furnaces use." 
 
 O'Rourke seemed thunderstruck. " Och, misther ! " 
 he said contritely ; " Oi '11 tell ye as soon as I get me 
 glasses on. Ye see, she burns some coal one day and 
 more another, and Misther Macpherson keeps it all 
 down in the little book. But Oi '11 look and see, 
 misther " 
 
 The chief dived through the door and Lethbridge 
 heard him bawling somewhere : " Tommy, Tommy ! 
 Tell Misther Macpherson the captain wants him, and 
 tell him to bring the little book so he can tell the captain
 
 14 ACROSS THE LATITUDES 
 
 how much coal we burn ivery day right off, with no 
 throuble to anny of us, seein' it 's all down in the little 
 book " As the voice died away in the depths of the 
 engine-room Lethbridge saw the smile on Sunni's face 
 broaden into a grin. 
 
 " Mickey is a wonder," the mate remarked. 
 
 " I 'd like to know how such an idiot ever got to be 
 engineer of this vessel," Lethbridge broke out in wrath. 
 " This craft seems to be a kind of imbecile asylum." 
 
 Sunni's grin faded. " Mr. O'Rourke has been in the 
 Establishment twelve years," he said formally. 
 
 " No wonder the Government is trying to get some 
 Americans into its vessels," was Lethbridge's reply. 
 Sunni flushed, but kept his peace. The chief engineer 
 reentered, triumphantly escorting a tall, blue-eyed 
 Scotchman who held a log-book in one calloused 
 hand. 
 
 " This is Misther Macpherson," said O'Rourke. 
 " And he can tell ye iverything ye want to know about 
 the engines and the coals and the machines, sor. Misther 
 Macpherson, tell the new captain what he wants to 
 know, and do it out of yer little book, so that nobody will 
 be up and say we don't know annything about our own 
 engines, God bliss thim fer the surface-condinsin', 
 double-actin', fore-and-aft compound beauties they 
 are!" 
 
 Lethbridge's face was hot. " I think we won't bother 
 the assistant engineer," he said with dignity. " When 
 the chief engineer of this vessel can find time to tell its 
 commander what he wants to know I '11 listen to him.
 
 MICHAEL O'ROURKE 15 
 
 Mr. Sunni, let 's have a look at the men. I hope we 
 have at least one good boat's crew among them." 
 
 As the captain passed haughtily out into the berth- 
 deck the chief engineer gazed thoughtfully after him. 
 " Now we 've gone and offinded a bran-new uniform, 
 Macpherson, with our little book and our coal figgers. 
 The divil's childher have their father's luck, Misther 
 Macpherson, and me bould Mickey has said ayther a 
 mite too much or a heap too little." O'Rourke sighed, 
 and wiped one eye with the cuff of his cotton shirt. 
 " But the bilges are clane, annyway," he said with re 
 turning cheerfulness. " And thot 's all your work, 
 Misther Macpherson. I give ye credit f er bein' a clanely 
 mon and a handy one, and the ingins of ould 188 bliss 
 ye with their shinin' faces. I wundher what we 've 
 done to offind the new skipper? He looks a good sort, 
 and a good seaman too." 
 
 Macpherson grumbled in his beard, tucked the engine- 
 room log-book under his arm and slipped away. But as 
 he plunged down the alleyway he came full on Leth- 
 bridge, who was examining the coil of fire hose. Leth- 
 bridge stopped him and said acidly, " How often do you 
 inspect this apparatus ? " 
 
 u It 's not in our department," said the assistant 
 sourly. 
 
 " It will be hereafter," was the curt response. " See 
 to it that the couplings are ready and on, if you have n't 
 tossed them over the side ! " a speech that made the 
 assistant speechless with rage, for he took pride in his 
 work.
 
 16 ACROSS THE LATITUDES 
 
 Just one week later Lethbridge sat alone in the little 
 cabin over his first official report. He contemplated it 
 grimly. In it he asked for a new mate, two new engi 
 neers, and recommended that at least two of the sailors 
 be discharged for physical disability. " That sounds 
 pretty bad," he muttered to himself, gnawing the pen 
 holder. " But it 's my duty to do it. The idea of hav 
 ing such men on board a Government vessel ! " An hour 
 later he was still at the same point, furious with himself 
 for his hesitation to complete the task. " If the com 
 mander can't see that I 'm right," he argued to himself, 
 " then I 've no business out here. Bad weather is com 
 ing on again, and if this craft ever broke adrift these 
 fellows would be as helpless as cats in a whirlwind 
 chief engineer an old Irishman who does n't know 
 enough to keep his men at a distance, second engineer a 
 cocky Scotchman who only draws his pay, and my mate 
 an old fellow with a wife and children ashore and no 
 thought for his work out here." 
 
 At this moment Sunni slid the door open and said 
 quietly, " The Wallula is alongside, sir." 
 
 Half an hour later Lethbridge was reading a paper, 
 freshly brought off by the tug, while Sunni was explain 
 ing to O'Rourke that he had just had a letter from Mrs. 
 Sunni saying she would leave for Tillamook, forty miles 
 down the coast, on the steamer Gull, sailing Sunday 
 morning. " This is Saturday," the mate groaned. 
 " And the Gull is n't fit for a lake." 
 
 " The Gull is a betther ship than a dozen you and me 
 have sailed in," said O'Rourke consolingly. " And yer
 
 MICHAEL O'ROURKE 17 
 
 good lady will hov a nate trip down and she 'a goin' to 
 see her own born sister, ye say ? Misther, d' ye begrudge 
 her the visit ? Begorrah, there 's no harm '11 come to 
 her, for she 's a foine woman Mrs. Sunni, and I ray- 
 mimber well the dinner she gave me the time me arm 
 was broke in the bunker of ould 153 and I cud n't ate 
 with me fork like a Christian, but had to fish for the 
 chicken leg with a spoon out of the platter. It 's not for 
 you and me to be timptin' God to spoil a good woman's 
 mirth by our fears of disaster." 
 
 " The weather is changing," sighed Sunni, clasping 
 one hand within the other. 
 
 " It 's niver stheady at sea," said O'Rourke. " If 
 it 's pleasant in the hivins, it 's a terrible storm in the 
 cabin ; if the sea goes down and for once in a while our 
 legs stay straight undher us the way the good Lord made 
 thim, and we can kape our hands in our pockets and off 
 the furniture, something has gone wrong with me bould 
 skipper, or the cook has a tanthrum, or the submarine 
 bell has to be hauled out and looked into its innards. I 
 niver yet saw the ship where the weather was consist 
 ently foine, misther." 
 
 Sunni refused to be comforted. " There Ve been a 
 lot of accidents on Tillamook bar," he groaned. " And 
 here 's Helma going down there in the heart of winter." 
 
 O'Rourke's face grew grave. " Niver ye fear, Misther 
 Sunni," he said. " Even the divil wud do yer woife no 
 harm, savin' her grace fer mintionin' her good silf and 
 the ould bhoy in the same breath. And Rasmussen of 
 the Gull is a good seaman ; we were togither in the ould
 
 18 ACROSS THE LATITUDES 
 
 City of Brussels and swam out to the same spar whin she 
 sank, and hung there, the watther pourin' into our ears ; 
 and Rasmussen says to me, ' Mickey, are ye cold ? ' and 
 I says to him, ' Misther Rasmussen, me belly 's warm, 
 but it 's a long way from there to me toes.' And Ras 
 mussen, seem' I was a little fellay, gave me a mite more 
 of me bould spar and says, ' Ye woild Oirishman, what 
 d 'ye expect whin ye 're supposed to be drownded ? I 
 niver knew yet an Oirishman that was satisfied.' And 
 so he kept the heart in me till we were picked up. Ras 
 mussen is a foine fellay, and Mrs. Sunni he '11 look after 
 special." 
 
 At this instant Lethbridge came up and looked at the 
 barometer. 
 
 " We 're going to have another gale," he remarked. 
 
 " Thot 's the way it does on this coast," O'Rourke 
 said, casting bright glances about the deck and hitching 
 at a broken suspender. " It 's foine as silk for a wake 
 and thin it pours the wind out of the sky be the month. 
 I raymimber in ould 153 that Oleson he was mate 
 thim days and came out of a steam schooner like yersilf , 
 Misther Lethbridge was congratulatin' himsilf that 
 his throubles were over, praise God, whin it blew for 
 three wakes on ind, and Oleson lost all six caps he had 
 brought off from shore with him and was mournin' day 
 and night that he must go bareheaded to Purgat'ry, 
 savin' yer prisince, Misther Lethbridge ; but that 's what 
 he said and there's no harm in it, for we must all 
 sweat in Purgat'ry and why not make the best of it, 
 misther ? "
 
 19 
 
 Lethbridge showed his open contempt for such re 
 marks by walking away a few paces and then coming 
 back to say, " Mr. Sunni, I wish you would tell the men 
 on watch to keep a good lookout when the weather breaks. 
 There are a lot of old tubs coming in and out, and we 
 must be ready to stand by if they need assistance." 
 
 " There ! " said O'Rourke as Lethbridge vanished. 
 " We '11 all be on the lookout for the Gull, Misther 
 Sunni, and if aught happens to it yer woife is safe." 
 
 But the mate found small comfort in this, recalling 
 to the chief engineer's mind that Mrs. Sunni and he had 
 been married fifteen years and had three children. 
 " And I 've not seen them for five months," he concluded. 
 
 " No wundher yer woife is goin' on a visit," said 
 O'Rourke cheerfully. " And ye '11 see Rasmussen hike 
 the Gull past us to-morrow morning like a yacht." 
 
 " I hope she won't go to sea," said Sunni. " But that 
 opposition line makes it bad for Rasmussen. The 
 owners will make him go out no matter what the weather, 
 just so as not to lose a trip and let the other boat get 
 some freight." He walked away, bitterly thinking that 
 experience and seamanship counted little when profits 
 were at stake. 
 
 The next morning Lethbridge, coming on deck for the 
 first time, saw the far mountains of the coast draped in 
 cloud, but ignored the portent. He saw only the glim 
 mering, quiet sea, the pilot-schooner a mile to the south, 
 an oil-tanker curtsying decorously to the blue rollers 
 far astern, the sun rising mistily, a bark standing in 
 toward the bar under all plain sail. Sunni joined
 
 20 ACROSS THE LATITUDES 
 
 him, rubber-booted and glum. " Storm coining," he 
 remarked. 
 
 " Don't think so," said Lethbridge. " The wind will 
 haul into the southeast, but that means ordinary weather 
 this time of year." 
 
 Sunni stared at the big lamps, now being lowered into 
 their houses. " I wonder whether the Gull will leave 
 out for Tillamook this morning ? " he said. 
 
 Lethbridge answered with the simple remark, " That 
 old tub ? That Swede skipper of hers will put her under 
 some day." 
 
 Sunni flushed. " Rasmussen is a friend of mine," he 
 said bluntly. " He 'a a first-class man." 
 
 Lethbridge smiled tolerantly. " You foreigners all 
 hang together, don't you ? You 'd run a paper box filled 
 with passengers around the Horn if there was any 
 money in it for you. You could n't get an American to 
 touch the Gull. It 's plain murder to send that craft 
 out in winter time." And Lethbridge walked away, tak 
 ing no personal pleasure in snubbing his mate, but feel 
 ing that it was his duty, as a patriotic American, to put 
 the foreigners in their place. 
 
 Sunni, for the first time in a long life at sea, took his 
 troubles with his superior to another man, finding 
 O'Rourke at work in the engine-room berating a fat 
 fireman. The chief engineer, after one glance at the 
 mate, withdrew him into a dark bunker, where he lit a 
 greasy torch. " 'T is me confissional," he explained. 
 " Whin things go wrong and the tall blue divil has his 
 nails on me bould Mickey, I come down here and have
 
 MICHAEL O'ROURKE 21 
 
 it out. The coals won't tell. What 's on yer chest, 
 misther ? It is n't all worry, I see ; 't is part of it plain 
 anger." 
 
 " I 'm going to ask the commander for a transfer," 
 said Sunni, balancing himself to the uneasy tumble of 
 the ship. " The skipper calls you and me foreigners. 
 I 've been in the Establishment ten years, Mickey, and 
 you 've been here longer, and I 've a little home ashore 
 and I 'm an American as much as that young fellow on 
 deck. I 'm a Finn, but I 'm an American too." 
 
 The chief engineer rubbed his hands on a bit of waste 
 and stared at the flickering torch. " I was born widout 
 shoes, misther," he said presently, " and no shoes did I 
 have till I was passin' coal in the old City of Liverpool 
 and Nesbitt, who was assistant in her, hove a pair of 
 brogans at me head. And Nesbitt was an American. 
 Me mother, God bliss her! niver lived to see me with 
 a white shirt on me back, and now whin I 'm old I 'm an 
 American citizen, with me papers and me oath of alle 
 giance and me good pay ivery month. I 've served in 
 half the light-ships on the Coast, and I 've nursed ingins 
 and kept condinsers goin' and saved coal and done me 
 duty as I saw it, and thanked God for Uncle Sam and 
 me honest service with me foine uniform and me good 
 grub and the rispict of me shipmates. And he calls me 
 an ignorant Oirishman befure me own min. Oi'm 
 Oirish, but me bould Mickey is an American too, and 
 chief engineer in the Unithed Sthates Lighthouse Estab 
 lishment, with good service behind me and an honest 
 day's work ahead of me. Oh, misther ! the bhoy is crazy !
 
 22 ACROSS THE LATITUDES 
 
 But he 's the masther of this vessel and orders are orders. 
 Oi 'm askin' fer a transfer mesilf. If the commander 
 will give me back me ould job on ould 167, with liss 
 pay and more work Oi 'm the sanior engineer too 
 Oi '11 be contint. But so long as you and me are on this 
 ship, misther, we must obey orders. 'T is n't America 
 that 's threatin' us this way ; it 's a mere bhoy, all puffed 
 up wid the pride of being born here." 
 
 " I won't be called a foreigner," said Sunni sullenly. 
 
 " A word 's a word, and soon past," said O'Rourke, 
 picking up a piece of coal ; " but a man 's a man. Oi 've 
 seen a dozen commanders in this district, and ivery one 
 of thim had something to say to me, and I spoke out to 
 thim and they spoke out to me, always saving their 
 prisince, and whin all was said Mickey was on his job 
 and the commander was on his. The bhoy aft there is 
 try in' to hold all our jobs, not knowin' that each man 
 must stand on his own foot. But we 're here to do our 
 duty, and the Governmint ain't carin' whether we loike 
 the color of his hair, the roof where he was born or the 
 twisht of his mousers. He '11 learn too." 
 
 Sunni shook his had and said abruptly : " The glass 
 is falling and there 's a strong set to the current. We 're 
 in for another gale." 
 
 " Pity the poor fellays on the steam schooners," said 
 O'Kourke. " We 're snug." 
 
 " I hope the Gull won't try to make Tillamook with 
 this tide," grunted Sunni dismally. 
 
 " Trust Misther Rasmussen," adjured the chief, blow 
 ing out the torch and leading the way out of the bunker.
 
 MICHAEL O'ROURKE 23 
 
 " Ye '11 see the Gull pass out of the river at eight o'clock 
 and know that all 's well." 
 
 But Nicholas Sunni did not see the Gull cross the bar, 
 though he peered through the sodden mist with all his 
 eyes; for as the sun rose the wind got up and by ten 
 o'clock a howling tempest was piling up the seas and No. 
 188 was plunging bows under, tearing at her cable, lash 
 ing herself into a perfect frenzy of excitement as the 
 sky settled down on her and the great tides of the North 
 Pacific turned and clutched at her with streaming 
 fingers. 
 
 At noon Lethbridge, clad in oilskins and boots, was 
 hanging to the rail of the booby hatch abaft the after 
 lamphouse. He was watching the wild gyrations of his 
 new command and wincing as she snapped the big rid 
 ing springs hard against the chocks with a jar that made 
 the steel masts whimper. Sunni was about his slow, 
 daily business with a secretive air, as though he knew 
 something of vast importance that he dared not tell. 
 Now and again O'Rourke would come up, shirt-sleeved, 
 bareheaded, to stare brightly out landward, where there 
 was no land to be seen, only a grayish blur of spume and 
 driven brine. 
 
 At one o'clock a hard-pressed oil-tanker lurched up 
 to leeward, smelt the roily water of the outer bar and 
 was swept off, black smoke pouring out of her low fun 
 nels as she fled for the Straits a hundred miles north. 
 In a break in the afternoon gloom Lethbridge saw the 
 pilot-schooner running for the open sea, a last sign that 
 the storm was growing in strength. Sunni, too, saw the
 
 24 ACROSS THE LATITUDES 
 
 little vessel and sighed. " We sha'n't see her for a 
 week," he remarked. " When she quits it means that 
 nothing else can risk it this close in. Well, our cable 's 
 strong and if we break it, we Ve the power to go it 
 alone." 
 
 Lethbridge made no response except a grunt. The 
 twilight settled into the blank darkness of night. The 
 great lamps swung wildly at the mastheads, throwing 
 their gleam into the smother. The last faint radiance 
 of North Head Light was swallowed in the murk, and 
 the hoarse fog-whistle began its monotonous two-second 
 blasts. Overside the submarine bell clanged rapidly, 
 tolling off breathlessly the signal One-Eight-Eight. The 
 mess-boy reported supper ready. So the storm settled 
 down on the laboring light-ship, wrapping her in stream 
 ing mist, roaring sullenly about her lonely lights, fling 
 ing over her the huge cracking surges that marked the 
 sea's angry might. And in the little cabin the officers 
 sat in their creaking chairs, clutching at the dishes 
 which the tottering boy handed them with a wry face. 
 Lethbridge seemed flushed with pleasure, eagerly listen 
 ing to the crunch of the driving seas and the jar of the 
 windlass. O'Rourke ate swiftly, occasionally muttering 
 a word to Macpherson. Sunni stared at the lamp, ap 
 parently reading some eccentric and puzzling message 
 in its erratic passage from one end of its little arc to 
 the other. His mind was on the Gull. Had Rasmussen 
 left harbor only to run into this gale? After all, ex 
 perience and wisdom did n't count in these days, he 
 reflected. All people wanted was that vessels should
 
 MICHAEL O'ROURKE 25 
 
 make their schedule. Rasmussen couldn't afford to 
 lose his job. Lethbridge had been correct in saying that 
 no native American would have taken the Gull to sea. 
 Sunni wondered miserably why it was that it was the 
 Scandinavian who did these difficult things, who kept 
 old ships running, who made it possible for non-sea 
 faring stockholders to amass dividends. Lethbridge, 
 even his hatred told him, would have defied owners and 
 stuck to his own judgment. There was something in 
 Lethbridge and his like that scorned the routine and 
 drudgery that made the whole existence of so many 
 sailors and masters. What was it? Sunni demanded 
 of himself. Dimly he knew that his own wit and skill 
 were greater than Lethbridge's. Yet all that skill and 
 all that experience did not prevent Mrs. Sunni 
 Helma, his children's mother from being at sea in an 
 unseaworthy vessel in a storm. Lethbridge's people, 
 he bitterly reflected, were at home, in snug houses, care 
 less and ignorant of the devouring sea. 
 
 The mate got up suddenly, clutched his way out of 
 the cabin and on deck. The chief engineer followed 
 him, brushing his gray mustache and turning his bright 
 eyes hither and thither till the full blast of the wind 
 almost drove them back into his head. Standing in the 
 shelter of the hatchway he pulled at Sunni's oilskin coat. 
 " Misther ! Misther ! " he said miserably. " Your lady 
 is n't at sea this night." 
 
 Sunni turned his white, aged face on him. 
 " Mickey," he said wretchedly, " I wish I had never seen 
 the sea."
 
 26 ACROSS THE LATITUDES 
 
 The chief engineer dragged himself one step farther 
 up, poking a grimy forefinger into the mate's waist- 
 lashing. " Him," he said with sudden profound wis 
 dom, " don't know annything about it. He thinks he 's 
 boss here, misther. But you and me, we 've been workin' 
 and toilin' all our lives, and our fathers and mothers 
 worked and toiled all their lives on this same domned 
 sea, and we know. Misther Sunni, the lad down there 
 with his uniform and his high ways don't know anny 
 thing. Me father was drownded off Ushant. I 've 
 heard ye say yer own father went down in a lumber 
 drogher in the North Sea, and we know." He stopped, 
 fixing his weary, sparkling eyes on the stolid mate, em 
 bodying in one comprehensive and authoritative gesture 
 the history of a race, of all the races of seafarers, who 
 live, suffer and die, who struggle and battle and strive 
 for the little that the sea does not withhold, who go 
 against it in armies, who make their lives fit its codes 
 of necessity, who accept defeat and are unsure of their 
 victories; who never boast, who constantly patch up 
 their theories to meet the sea's new contingencies, who 
 know that the only way to gain even transient ascend 
 ency is to hang together and obey the hard-learnt rules 
 of the game. And it was one of these rules that the chief 
 engineer enforced now with his sooty finger. " Forget 
 it," he adjured Sunni. " 'T is our business to kape the 
 lights bright. 'T is Rasmussen's to get the Gull and 
 your lady safe into Tillamook." 
 
 The mate nodded briefly, turning his face once more 
 into the biting wind. His hoarse voice broke along the
 
 MICHAEL O'ROURKE 27 
 
 dripping, careering deck. " For'ad, there ! The after 
 light is smoking ! Lower away and trim ! " As two 
 men tumbled out in response to this command O'Rourke 
 silently withdrew down the steps, peered wisely in upon 
 Lethbridge, who was writing up the log, and retired to 
 the fiddle, where he dried himself in the dry, aromatic 
 heat from the fire-room below, humming a song under his 
 breath, listening to the throb, hiss and beat of the hurry 
 ing air-compressor engine. Overhead the whistle flung 
 out its crashing bellow, shaking the strong structure of 
 the light-ship with vibrations of sound. Far down 
 against the vessel's side the submarine bell tolled chok 
 ingly, One-Eight-Eight, hurriedly, insistently, as if its 
 office were the most important in the world. O'Rourke 
 nodded, lost the tune of his song and slept, surrounded 
 by the humming boilers, soothed by the clatter of shovels 
 in the fire-room, the slather of the coals across the plates, 
 the creaking and straining of the beams that carried the 
 motionless engines' weight. 
 
 He wakened at midnight, gave the fireman just come 
 on watch his blessing, peered at the whistle-engine, felt 
 the hot cylinders of the air-compressor, poked his nose 
 into the jangle forward where the windlass was biting 
 into the cable and snarling over the leap and jerk of the 
 moorings, and then went up the steps on deck. As he 
 thrust his head above the hatch-coaming and caught the 
 whirling blast of the gale Sunni lurched by, stooping 
 over to avoid the volleys of spray that rattled along the 
 decks. O'Rourke stopped him and dragged him back 
 into the shelter of the lamphouse. " 'T is the Captain's
 
 28 ACROSS THE LATITUDES 
 
 watch," he protested. " And for why are ye on deck 
 here, Misther Sunni ? " 
 
 The mate turned his haggard face to the light. " I 
 thought we 'd best keep a double lookout," he muttered. 
 " If the Gull can't make Tillamook, she '11 come out 
 here to lie by till daylight." 
 
 " Much good 't will do you if she does," said the 
 chief engineer practically. " The Gull 's safe enough. 
 Ye can spind money and get it back, but lost slape 
 niver did annybody anny good at all, for nobody iver 
 found the slape some one ilse lost. Turn in, Misther 
 Sunni." 
 
 Sunni's eminently practical mind had gone off on a 
 tangent, however, and he enlarged to O'Rourke on the 
 various accidents that might befall the Gull. He pic 
 tured her stranded on Tillamook bar, helplessly adrift 
 off the coast, foundering in the darkness. O'Rourke 
 scorned him. " Turn in and get some slape," he ad 
 jured him. " All the bhoys will kape a good lookout, 
 and if something did happen what cud we do, Misther 
 Sunni?" 
 
 "We might pick up the small boat," said the mate 
 wretchedly. 
 
 " If the small boat cud hit us in the pit murk," was 
 the response. " Rasmussen won't thry that. He '11 wait 
 till dawn, like a sinsible fellay, and come up bright and 
 foine with the sun to breakfast with us." 
 
 " Look here ! " said the mate, dragging the chief en 
 gineer over to the side. " Look at that, man ! " 
 
 O'Rourke balanced himself on the slippery plates and
 
 MICHAEL O'ROURKE 29 
 
 peered down the vessel's side. A sinking sea slid into 
 some abyss and left streaming steel flanks quivering be 
 low them. Another sea buried them, flinging the light 
 ship far over. But O'Rourke had seen and groaned. 
 
 " 'T is a tin-knot current," he whispered. " No 
 wundher the ould girl winces on the cable and the 
 shackles sing in the hawse-pipes. No small boat can live 
 in that." 
 
 " It might live a while," said Sunni, " but it would 
 be helpless. Even a full-powered steamer could hardly 
 breast that tide." 
 
 Lethbridge came along, shaking the spray from his 
 cap. " The wind is pretty nearly a hundred miles an 
 hour," he gasped. " D 'ye think the cable will hold ? " 
 
 O'Rourke wagged a wise head. " It '11 hold, misther," 
 he cried back. " She 's a new chain and she 's been 
 tested and built and retested just to stand this weather. 
 The Governmint don't take no chances now." 
 
 " If she does part," said Lethbridge, coming into the 
 lee of the lamphouse, " we have power enough to go out 
 and steam around with the best of them." 
 
 " She 's a good boat," said the mate. " I expect she 
 could make fair time even against this wind and 
 tide." 
 
 " Oh, we 're safe enough ! " Lethbridge assented 
 easily. " And if need be we could slip our moorings 
 and go and help some other vessel." 
 
 Sunni nodded. " We could," he grunted ; " but we 've 
 got to hang on here. That 's orders." 
 
 " I 'm never going to see a vessel in distress and not
 
 30 ACROSS THE LATITUDES 
 
 help her," said Lethbridge sharply. " That 's why 
 we Ve got engines and a full head of steam. We 're sup 
 posed to use judgment in this business." 
 
 O'Kourke was shocked. " Och, misther ! " he pleaded. 
 " 'T is our orders to stay here till we are told to come 
 in, and we cud n't slip our moorings. 'T is impossible. 
 It has n't been done in all the years light-ships have 
 been on station. Nobody iver heard of one lavin' its 
 place till it sank or was ordered into port to be relieved." 
 
 Lethbridge glanced amusedly at the chief engineer. 
 To-night he felt himself really in a position of responsi 
 bility, and he was resolved to make the most of it. He 
 stared into the blackness around the light-ship with an 
 imperious and eager air. He was about to speak when 
 a hoarse cry from forward drove the three of them leap 
 ing outward. Sunni's quick eyes interpreted the call 
 instantly. " Boat alongside ! " he bellowed. Lethbridge 
 followed his outflung arm and saw a faint, twinkling 
 gleam to windward, a mere matchlight of a glow, deep 
 in the howling smother of darkness. His quick hands 
 felt along the rail and clutched a heaving-line. He saw 
 Sunni, still bellowing orders, come to a stand by the 
 pilot-house, and knew that he, too, held a line ready to 
 cast when the boat, if boat it were, came within casting 
 distance. 
 
 Out of the forward hatch men poured like shot from 
 a bottle, scurrying to their stations, bearing lanterns, 
 flinging coils of rope on the deck, crying out to each 
 other. And overhead the huge lamps blazed steadily, 
 careering through the great arc of darkness, while the
 
 MICHAEL O'ROURKE 31 
 
 feeble glimmer to windward vanished, reappeared, 
 showed brightly an instant and then dimmed. Leth- 
 bridge heard the chief engineer's voice beside him. 
 " 'T is a boat," he said calmly. 
 
 It was a boat. It suddenly appeared almost under 
 the bluff bows of the light-ship, uprose on a crested 
 wave, swerved wildly, sank into the boiling trough and 
 swung up on the next hurtling sea. From forward a 
 rope swished outboard. Lethbridge saw some one in 
 the little craft make a stiff, helpless gesture, and knew 
 that the line had fallen short. He saw Sunni clamber 
 upon the rail as it dived down, balance himself and 
 throw out his arm. Again he saw the helpless gestures 
 of the huddled people in the boat and realized that they 
 were numb with cold, fast perishing, unable to reach 
 out quickly for a line. His own coil lay in his hand; 
 he waited till another driving sea lifted the little craft 
 almost level with the light-ship's rail and then flung it 
 out. He saw frantic graspings, heard a feeble shout; 
 the man in the stern dropped his oar and fell forward, 
 clutching at something. But the rope's end came slack 
 into his hand and he knew that his cast had failed. In 
 desperation he leaped for another rope and realized that 
 O'Rourke was yelling down at the shipwrecked boat's 
 crew to " Hang on ! " He vaguely saw the little Irish 
 man fling an arm upward, thought he saw a line uncoil 
 in the air and fall across the sodden craft that now 
 barely appeared in the seething water under the counter. 
 He leaped and caught hold of O'Rourke's arm. He 
 felt a thin wet rope come taut. O'Rourke yelled furi-
 
 32 ACROSS THE LATITUDES 
 
 ously, hanging to it and shuffling aft to the pull of it. 
 Sunni ran up, trying to tear a tangled line apart. 
 
 " We 've got 'em, and it 's Rasmussen," O'Rourke 
 bawled. 
 
 Lethbridge jumped to the rail and peered down. A 
 sweeping gleam from the high lanterns crossed the little 
 boat and displayed its plight. White faces stared up. 
 Stiff arms swung imploringly towards the lofty lan 
 terns. The man in the stern turned his sodden, stern 
 visage to Lethbridge for one instant. He recognized 
 the captain of the Gull. Then he noticed a woman's 
 eyes on him. He stared down fascinatedly. What was 
 a woman doing in that sinking boat? How had she 
 come there ? Who was she ? He cursed Rasmussen in 
 a sudden, unreasoning access of rage. His words did 
 not carry a fathom. The wind whipped them to itself. 
 The passing gleam swept on. The boat vanished in the 
 darkness. O'Rourke seized him with both hands and 
 cried : " The loine did n't hould, misther ! " He showed 
 the frayed end of it in proof. 
 
 Instantly Lethbridge came to himself. " That boat 
 can't live another half hour," he roared. " We '11 up 
 anchor and get it ! " 
 
 He plunged away, yelling : " Chief, get your engines 
 turning and full head of steam up. Mr. Sunni, un 
 shackle the cable and slip it. Unlock that pilot-house, 
 somebody ! Stand by, men, and we '11 go and get those 
 people." 
 
 A wild shout echoed up from the depths of the light 
 ship. A fireman appeared in the light from the cabin
 
 MICHAEL O'ROURKE 33 
 
 hatch and vanished below. A sailor cried out that the 
 wheel-house was open. Two others slashed furiously at 
 the lashings of the steering chains and took the stoppers 
 off the big helm. Lethbridge threw his full voice into 
 his next order : " Ring the engines full speed ahead ! 
 Hurry, boys, and we '11 go get 'em. There 's a woman 
 among them ! " 
 
 Suddenly he realized that two men had not moved. 
 The mate and the chief engineer stood peering into the 
 darkness in which the boat had been swallowed up. He 
 seized at them both with rough hands. " Chief, get 
 down to your engines. What do you mean by stopping 
 up here ? Give me full power as quickly as you 
 can. Mr. Sunni, why don't you get along and unshackle 
 that anchor? My God, man, seconds count! That 
 boat will sink before we can get down to her and pick 
 her up." 
 
 O'Rourke's bright eyes turned to his superior. " Yer 
 the skipper," he croaked ; " but no orders does Mickey 
 O'Rourke give in the engine-room this night if ye leave 
 the station." 
 
 Lethbridge stared, choked, and wrung the Irishman's 
 arm. " You refuse duty ? " he roared. " You coward ! 
 Get down to your engines and we '11 save that boat and 
 its passengers." 
 
 " Oi 'm no coward," said O'Rourke defiantly. " But 
 Oi 've tin years' service, honest and true, behind me ; 
 and no engines do I turn to leave the station. Orders 
 are orders, sor." 
 
 In answer, Lethbridge stepped aside and jerked the
 
 34 ACROSS THE LATITUDES 
 
 bellhandle. Far down in the bowels of the ship a 
 gong clanged. O'Rourke's mustache bristled. " Ye 're 
 a lad widout sinse," he stormed. " We did our best 
 for that boat and no more can Saint Peter do. But 
 Oi '11 not turn the engines to leave the station. Nor 
 will Macpherson, ayther." 
 
 Sunni turned his white, lined face to his superior. 
 " The chief is right, sir," he said almost humbly. " I 
 don't think you understand, sir. We cant leave our 
 station." 
 
 A sailor leaped aft, dripping spray. " All 's clear, 
 sir," he cried. 
 
 Lethbridge gazed through the wind-driven darkness 
 at his two officers. Within him he felt a terrible dis 
 gust, too deep for open rage. His soul flamed, and 
 he had thoughts of killing them as they stood. But 
 somehow their attitude balked him. In all his ex 
 perience at sea he had never run against this stolid 
 disobedience. Time and again he had seen men whom 
 he despised cheerfully take risks; there was no risk 
 in steaming after the sinking small boat and rescu 
 ing her drowning crew and the woman. What was 
 this that held his two subordinates like stone against 
 his will ? 
 
 And as he gazed at them through smarting eyes the 
 tremendous weight of their obstinacy bore down on him. 
 He knew them for men of long service ; men who had 
 suffered and endured, and would suffer and endure 
 again. He despised O'Rourke, but O'Rourke was no 
 coward. Sunni was old and unfit for active duty, but
 
 MICHAEL O'ROURKE 35 
 
 Sunni was a seaman and had never faltered, so far 
 as he knew. What was it ? What was it ? 
 
 O'Rourke's harsh voice explained it again, baldly: 
 " It 's orders, misther, not to leave our station. Ship 
 that I was on niver did yet, and won't while Oi 'm 
 chief engineer." 
 
 Lethbridge turned to his mate. Sunni answered him 
 with difficulty. " It 's down in the book that we all 
 signed," he said monotonously. " We all signed it when 
 we entered the service. We can't slip our moorings, 
 sir. It 's Order No. 113." 
 
 The prodigious earnestness of the two men appalled 
 Lethbridge. He perceived his own helplessness. Yet a 
 boat filled with dying people was being driven through 
 the foaming seas not a mile away and No. 188 could 
 save them. It was so simple to slip the cable and steam 
 after them. But it was impossible. The single obedi 
 ence of these two men to an old order set up a barrier 
 that even Lethbridge could not break through. They 
 seemed to embody the tremendous and awful authority 
 of a vast department of the Government; they bore him 
 down, crushed his noble and seamanlike impulses under 
 the terrific weight of precedent, of dull rules, of office- 
 made orders. He rebelled. But his rebellion wais 
 merely a curse on them ; " You would n't break a rule 
 to save a woman's life, you d d foreigners ! " 
 
 O'Rourke thrust his grimy fist into Lethbridge's face. 
 " Oi 'm an American," he said with deadly meaning. 
 " And Misther Sunni is an American betther Ameri 
 can than you are, ye cocky young sprig. Misther Sunni
 
 36 ACROSS THE LATITUDES 
 
 and I both took the oath of allegiance, which is more 
 than iver you or your loikes did; and whin we swore 
 to obey the Governmint we meant it, and we Ve done 
 it, fair weather and foul." 
 
 Lethbridge stared and laughed. Yet he felt some 
 thing of the truth behind the engineeer's words. He 
 recalled that Macpherson had not answered his gong 
 signal. But what he was on the point of saying was 
 never uttered, for a sailor came running aft to say, 
 " There 's a steamer for' ad, sir ; showing signals, 
 sir." 
 
 Lethbridge peered into the darkness and saw the 
 gleaming lights of a liner. In her rigging rows of 
 lights showed that she was anxious to be spoken. Leth 
 bridge turned. " What do you make of that signal ? " 
 
 The mate wiped his eyes out with his cuff and said 
 dully, " That 's the big Rose City, sir. She wants to 
 know if we are on our station." 
 
 " She 's lost ! " said O'Kourke. " Lucky fer her she 
 picked up our lights. Another half hour on the course 
 she was goin' and she and all her hundreds o' passengers 
 would be poundin' in the surf." 
 
 Lethbridge's voice barely carried to the mate. " Just 
 signal her that No. 188 is on her station," he said. 
 
 The mate lifted his hand in response and plodded 
 wearily forward, a bent and broken figure of a man, 
 lurching to the pitch and surge of the light-ship's deck. 
 He was muttering to himself, " She '11 understand it 
 was orders . . . Order No. 113." 
 
 O'Rourke, by himself on the after deck, was on his
 
 37 
 
 knees by the bitts praying for the soul of Lars Rass- 
 mussen, who had once saved his life. 
 
 Lethbridge, hanging to the pinrail at the foremast, 
 was staring blindly out at the liner, now hove to a 
 mile out; he realized poignantly that the authority of 
 the great Establishment which he served had saved 
 those lives on the Rose City. Yet he was dumb before 
 the sacrifice of the Gull's crew. No. 188, he knew, 
 could have steamed after that sinking boat and rescued 
 them all, including the white-faced woman. And yet 
 he went down and tore up his report to the com 
 mander, the report in which he had asked for new 
 officers instead of O'Rourke, Sunni and Macpherson. 
 But he did not know the extent of the devotion to duty 
 that had made possible that bold signal at the masthead : 
 " We Are On Our Station." For Michael O'Rourke, 
 Irish-American, and Nicholas Sunni, Finnish-Ameri 
 can, did n't tell.
 
 38 ACROSS THE LATITUDES 
 
 II 
 
 TAD SHELDON, SECOND CLASS SCOTJT 
 
 THEEE is no har-rm in the story, though it speaks ill 
 for us big people with Misther to our names," said 
 Chief Engineer Mickey O'Rourke, balancing his coffee 
 cup between his two scarred hands. " Ye remimber 
 the lasht toime I was on leave and I wint down to 
 Yaquina Bay with Captain Tyler on his tin gas schooner, 
 thinkin' to mesilf it was a holiday and all the fun 
 I had was insthructin' the gasoline engineer in the mys 
 teries of how to expriss one's sintimints without injurin' 
 the skipper's f eelin's ? Well, I landed in the bay and 
 walked about in the woods, which is foine for the smell 
 of thim which is like fresh tar; and one afternoon I 
 finds two legs and small feet stickin' out of a hole under 
 a stump. I pulled on the two feet and the legs came 
 out and at the end of thim a bhoy, mad with rage and 
 dirt in his eyes. 
 
 " * Ye have spoiled me fun ! ' says he, lookin' at me 
 very fierce. 
 
 " ' Do yez dig yer fun out of the ground like coal ? ' 
 I demands. 
 
 " ' I 'm investigatin' the habits of squirrels,' says he. 
 ' I must find out how a squirrel turns round in his hole. 
 Does he turn a summersault or stick his tail between 
 his ears and go over backward ? ' 
 
 " ' He turns inside out, like an ould sock,' I informs
 
 MICHAEL O'ROURKE 39 
 
 him, and he scorns me natural history. On the strength 
 of mutual language we get acquainted. He is Tad 
 Sheldon, the eldest son of Surfman No. 1, of the life- 
 saving crew. He is fourteen years ould. Me bould 
 Tad has troubles of his own, consisting of five other 
 youngsters who are his gang. ' We are preparing to 
 inter the ranks of the Bhoy Scouts,' he tells me, settin' 
 be the side of the squirrel-hole. ' We are all tender- 
 feet and we can't get enlisted with the rest of the bhoys 
 in the United States because each scout must have a 
 dollar in the bank and between the six of us we have 
 only one dollar and six bits and that 's in me mother's 
 apron pocket and in no bank at all.' 
 
 " ' Explain,' says I. 
 
 " ' 'T is this way,' says me young sprig. ' All the 
 bhoys in the country of America have joined the scouts, 
 which is an army of felleys that know the woods and 
 about animals and how to light a fire, and know the 
 law.' 
 
 " ' Stop ! ' I orders. ' No one knows the law without 
 gold in one hand and a book in the other. If ye knew 
 the law ye would have yer dollar.' 
 
 " ( 'T is the scouts' law,' says he. ' It tells ye to 
 obey yer superiors and be fair to animals and kind to 
 people ye care little for. Ye must know how to take 
 care of yourself anywhere and be ready whin the 
 counthry needs ye.' 
 
 " ' And ye need a dollar ? ' I asks. ' Thin, why not 
 work for it and stop pokin' yer nose down squirrel- 
 holes, where there is neither profit nor wages ? '
 
 40 ACROSS THE LATITUDES 
 
 " ' Because I 'm to be the pathrol-leader and I must 
 know more than me men/ he retorts. 
 
 " Now, ye remimber I had in me pocket three pay 
 checks, besides the money of Mr. Lof, the second engi 
 neer, which I had got for him and was carryin' about 
 to send to him by the first friend I saw. So I took 
 off me cap and pulled out one of the checks and said: 
 
 I Me bould bhoy, go down to the town and get the cash 
 for this. Bring it back to me and I '11 give ye a dollar ; 
 and thin ye can become a scout.' 
 
 " The lad looked at me and then at the Governmint 
 check. He shook his head till the dirt rolled into his 
 ears, for he was still full of the clods he had rubbed 
 into himsilf in the hole. ' I can't take a dollar from 
 a man in the service,' he says. i I must earn it.' 
 
 " ' The Governmint's money is clane,' I rebukes him. 
 
 I 1 'm ould and me legs ends just above me feet, so 
 that I walk with difficulty. 'T is worth a dollar to get 
 the coin without trampin'.' 
 
 " ' I will earn it from somebody not in the service/ 
 says me bould bhoy, with great firmness. 
 
 " ' I 'm no surf man, thank Hivin ! ' I remarks. ' I 'm 
 in the establishmint and look down on ye.' 
 
 " ' If I 'd known ye were a lighthouse man I 'd have 
 taken all ye had at first/ he retorts. ' But ye have 
 made me a fair offer and I forgive ye. My father 
 works for his living.' 
 
 " Ye know how the life-savers and the lighthouse 
 people pass language between thim whin they meet. 
 The lad and I exchanged complimints, but he spared
 
 MICHAEL O'ROURKE 41 
 
 me because I had gray hairs. ' In time ye will be 
 come a keeper of a station and perform for the idifica- 
 tion of the summer gur-rl/ I concludes. ' But, if ye 
 were more industhrious and had more iducation, ye 
 might in time get into the establishmint and tind a 
 third-order light.' 
 
 " ' Why should I bury mesilf among ould min without 
 arms and legs ? ' he inquires haughtily. ' Me youngest 
 sister clanes the lamps in our house with a dirty rag 
 and an ould toothbrush.' 
 
 " ' Well/ says I, seein' that it was poor fortune to 
 be quarrelin' with a slip of a kid, ' do yez want the 
 dollar or not ? ' 
 
 " And at that we got down to facts and he explained 
 that this scout business was most important. It ap 
 peared that the other five bhoys depinded on him to 
 extricate thim from their difficulties and set them all up 
 as scouts, with uniforms and knives and a knowledge 
 of wild animals and how to build a fire in a bucket 
 of watther. We debated the thing back and forth till 
 the sun dropped behind the trees and the could air 
 came up from the ground and stuck me with needles 
 of rheumatism. 
 
 " The lad was a good lad and he made plain to me 
 why his dollar was har-rd to get. He had thought of 
 savin' the life of a summer visitor, but the law read 
 that he must save life anyhow, without lookin' for pay. 
 1 And we can't all save lives,' he mourns ; ' for some 
 of the kids is too young.' 
 
 " ' But ye must earn money, ye scut/ I says. ' Ye 're
 
 42 ACROSS THE LATITUDES 
 
 fourteen and whin I was that age I was me mother's 
 support and joy. I made four shillin's a wake mixin' 
 plaster for a tile-layer.' 
 
 " ' I work,' he responds dolefully. * But it goes to 
 me mother to put with the savings in the bank against 
 the time me father will be drownded and leave us with 
 out support, for ye must know that we life-savers get 
 no pensions.' 
 
 " ' I. niver hear-rd of a life-saver bein' drownded,' 
 I remarks. l But it may be, for I see ye are of an 
 exthraordinary family and anything may come to such. 
 How many are there of yez ? ' 
 
 " ' There are six of us childher, all gur-rls but mesilf/ 
 says he, with rage in his voice. { And Carson he 
 was No. 4 broke his hip in a wreck last year and died 
 of the bruise and left five, which the crew is lookin' 
 after. Young Carson is one of me gang and makes a 
 dollar and four bits a week deliverin' clams to the sum 
 mer folks. Ye see he can't save a dollar for the bank.' 
 'And we got up and discussed the matther going down 
 the hill toward the town. Before we parted Tad tould 
 me where he lived. 
 
 " ' I M call on yer father and mother,' says I, * if I 
 cud be sure they would appreciate the honor. 'T is a 
 comedown for an officer in the lighthouse establishmint 
 to inter the door of a surf man.' 
 
 " ' Me father has a kind heart and is good to the 
 ould,' he answers me. f We live beyond the station, on 
 the bluff.' 
 
 " With that we went our ways and I ate an imminse
 
 MICHAEL O'ROTJRKE 43 
 
 meal in the hotel with the dishes all spread out before 
 me and a pretty gur-rl behind me shoulder to point 
 out the best of thim. Thin I walked out and started 
 for the house of me bould Tad. 
 
 " I found thim all seated in the parlor excipt the 
 missus, who was mixin' bread in the kitchen. I inthro- 
 duced mesilf, and Sheldon, who had No. 1 on his sleeve, 
 offered me a pipe, which I took. I came down to busi 
 ness, houldin' me cap full of checks and money on me 
 lap. ' Yer bould bhoy wants to be a scout and lacks a 
 dollar,' I says. ' I like his looks, though I discovered 
 him in a hole under a tree. He won't take me money 
 and scorns me and the establishmint.' 
 
 " ' He must earn it,' he answers, scowlin' over his 
 pipe. 
 
 " 'But I '11 spind it,' I insists, peerin' at the bhoy out 
 of the tail of me eye. ' If yer town were n't dhry I 'd 
 have given it to the saloon man for the good of the family 
 he has n't got. So why bilge at a single dollar ? ' 
 
 " ' 'T is the scout's law,' puts in me bould Tad. ' I 
 must make it honestly.' And he settled his head between 
 his hands and gazed reproachfully at the clane floor. 
 So I saved me money and sat till eight o'clock exchangin' 
 complimints with Misther Sheldon. Thin the bell rang 
 on the hill beyond the station and he pulled his cap off 
 the dresser, kissed his wife and the five gur-rls and wint 
 out to his watch and a good sleep. Whin he was gone 
 I stood in the doorway and Missus Sheldon tould me of 
 the little Carsons and how Missus Carson had sworn 
 niver to marry again excipt in the life-saving service.
 
 ' She says the Governmint took away her husband and 
 her support,' says the good lady, ' and she '11 touch no 
 money excipt Governmint checks, bein' used to thim and 
 Uncle Sam owin' her the livin' he took away.' 
 
 " ' With five childher she shud look up and marry 
 one of the men in the establishmint,' I informs her. 
 ' They are good husbands and make money.' 
 
 " ' Though a widow, she has pride,' she responds 
 sharply; and I left, with young Tad follerin' at me 
 heels till I let him overtake me and whisper : ' If ye 'd 
 buy some clams off of young Carson it wud help the 
 widow.' 
 
 " ' I am starved for clams,' I whispers back like a 
 base conspirator for the hand of the lovely gur-rl in the 
 castle. ' Show me the house of me bould Carson.' He 
 pointed to a light through the thin woods. 
 
 " They thought I was crazy whin I returned to the 
 hotel with a hundred pounds of clams dripping down me 
 back. ' I dug thim with me own hands this night/ I 
 tould the man in the office. ' Cook thim all for me 
 breakfast.' 
 
 " f Ye 're a miracle of strength and endurance under 
 watther,' says he ; ( for 't is now high tide and the surf 
 is heavy.' 
 
 " ' I found their tracks in the road and followed thim 
 to their lair,' I retorts. ' Do I get thim for breakfast ? ' 
 
 " And in the mor-rnin', whin I was that full of clams 
 that I needed a shell instead of a weskit, I walked on the 
 beach with the admirin' crowds of summer tourists and 
 lovely women. It was fine weather and the little ones
 
 MICHAEL O'ROURKE 45 
 
 were barefooted and the old ones bareheaded, and the 
 wind was gentle, and the life-savers were polishin' their 
 boat in full view of the wondherin' throng; and I 
 thought of this ould tub out here on the ind of a chain 
 and pitied yez all. Thin I sthrolled around the point 
 to the bay and found me bould Tad dhrillin' his gang in 
 an ould skiff, with home-made oars in their little fists and 
 Tad sthandin' in the stern-sheets, with a huge steerin' 
 sweep between his arms and much loud language in his 
 mouth. Whin I appeared they looked at me and Tad 
 swung his boat up to the beach and invited me in. ' We 
 will show you a dhrill ye will remimber,' says he, very 
 polite. And with my steppin' in he thrust the skiff off 
 and the bhoys rowed with tremenjous strength. We 
 wint along a full three knots an hour, till he yelled an 
 other ordher and the bhoys dropped their oars and 
 jumped over to one side ; and I found mesilf undher the 
 boat, with me mouth full of salt watther and ropes. 
 Whin I saw the sun again me bould Tad says to me with 
 disapprobation : l Ye are n't experienced in capsize 
 dhrill.' 
 
 " ' In the establishment we use boats to keep us out 
 of the watther/ I responds, hunting for the papers out 
 of me cap. ' The newspapers are full of rebukes for 
 thim that rock boats to their own peril.' With that 
 they all felt ashamed and picked up me papers and 
 grunted at each other, tryin' to blame somebody else. 
 And whin I had me checks and me papers all safe again 
 I smiled on thim and me bould Tad took heart. ' 'T is 
 not to tip the boat over,' says he, ' but to get it back
 
 46 ACROSS THE LATITUDES 
 
 on an even keel after a sea 's capsized her that is the 
 point of the dhrill.' And we pulled ashore to dhry. 
 
 " Whiles we were sittin' on the sand drainin' the 
 watther out of our shoes a small, brassy launch came 
 down the bay, with manny men and women on her little 
 decks. Me bould Tad looked at her with half-shut 
 eyes and snorted. l Some day it will be the life-saving 
 crew that must bring those ninnies back to their homes,' 
 he says. * The Pacific is nothing to fool with in a gaso 
 line launch. 'T is betther to be safe and buy your fish.' 
 And we watched the launch chug by and out on the bar 
 and to sea. I learned that she was the Gladys by name 
 and fetched tourists to the fishing grounds, nine miles 
 down the coast. 
 
 " All the bhoys were respictful to me excipt young 
 Carson, who recognized in me bould Mickey the man 
 who had asked for a hundredweight of clams. He stared 
 at me superciliously and refused to have speech with me, 
 bein' ashamed, if I can judge of his youthful thoughts, 
 of bein' in the same company with a fool. 
 
 " But I discovered that the gang was all bent on be- 
 comin' what they called second-class scouts, which they 
 made plain to me was betther by one than a tenderfoot. 
 But they niver mintioned the lackings of the dollar, bein' 
 gintlemin. They wanted to know of me whether I 
 thought that boatmanship and knowledge of sailing 
 would be accipted be the powers instid of wisdom as to 
 bird-tracks and intimacy with wild animals and bugs. 
 And the heart of me opened, the youth of me came back ; 
 and I spoke to thim as one lad to another, with riferince
 
 MICHAEL O'ROURKE 47 
 
 to me years in a steamer and the need of hard hands and 
 a hard head. 
 
 " The ind of it was that they rowled across the sand 
 to me side and we all lay belly down over a chart, which 
 me bould Tad had procured after the manner of bhoys, 
 and they explained to me how they knew the coast for 
 twelve miles each side of Yaquina Bay, with the tides 
 and currents all plain in their heads. And I was sur 
 prised at what the young scuts knew God save 
 thim! 
 
 " At noon the visitors suddenly stopped lookin' at the 
 scenery and hastened away with hunger in their eyes. 
 The crew ran the surfboat back into the station and the 
 bhoys drew their skiff up out of har-rm's way; and I 
 wint back to me hotel and more clams. On the steps I 
 found young Carson, grinnin' like a cat. 
 
 " ' Ye don't have to eat thim shell fish,' says he, 
 
 7 / 7 
 
 lookin' away. ' Gimme the sack of thim and I '11 peddle 
 thim to the tourists and bring ye the money.' 
 
 " ' Whisht and away with ye ! } I commanded. ' Who 
 are you to be dictatin' the diet of yer betthers \ ' And 
 he fled, without glancin' behind him. 
 
 " There was some remar-rks passed upon me wet 
 clothes, but I tould the clerk in the office that me duty 
 often called me to get drippin' soaked and went into the 
 dinin' room with a stiff neck under me proud chin. 
 There was but few in the place and the gur-rl who stood 
 by me shoulder to pilot me through the various coorses 
 infor-rmed me that the most of the guests were out on 
 the Gladys fishin'. ' And the most of thim will have
 
 48 ACROSS THE LATITUDES 
 
 little appetite for their dinners/ she mused gently, 
 thereby rebukin' me for a second helpin' of the fresh 
 meat. 
 
 " In the afternoon I sthrolled out on the beach again, 
 but saw little. A heavy fog was rowlin' from the nor'- 
 ard and the breeze before it was chill and damp as a 
 widow's bed. I walked for me health for an hour and 
 then ran to kape war-rm. At the ind of my spurt I was 
 amazed to find mesilf exactly at the hotel steps. I wint 
 in and laid me down be the fire and slept. I woke to 
 hear a woman wailin'. 
 
 " Whin me eyes were properly open, and both pointed 
 in the same direction, I found mesilf in the midst of a 
 crowd. The sittin' room was full of people, all with 
 misery in their faces. The woman whose cries had woke 
 me was standin' be the windey, with one hand around 
 a handkerchief. ' My God ! ' she was sayin' ' My 
 God ! And me bhoy is on that boat ! ' And I knew that 
 it was throuble and that many people would have their 
 heads in their hands that night, with aches in their 
 throats. I got up shoes in me hand. At sight of me 
 bright unif or-rm ten men flung themselves on me. ' You 
 will help save them ? ' they cried at me. 
 
 " 1 1 will so soon as I get me shoes on,' I remar-rked, 
 pushing them off me toes. I put on me boots and stood 
 up. ' Now I '11 save thim,' says I. ' Where are they ? ' 
 
 " ' They 're on the Gladys,' says three at once. 
 1 Thirty of our people women and men and childher.' 
 
 " ' Why wake me ? ' I demanded crosslike. ' Are n't 
 the brave life-savers even now sitting be the fire waitin'
 
 MICHAEL O'ROURKE 49 
 
 for people to come and be saved ? I 'm a chief engineer 
 in the lighthouse establishmint and we save no lives 
 excipt whin we can't help it. Get the life-saving crew.' 
 
 " And they explained to me bould Mickey that the 
 crew was gone twenty miles up the coast to rescue the 
 men on a steam schooner that was wrecked off the Siletz, 
 word of it having come down but two hours since. They 
 looked at me unifor-rm and demanded their relatives at 
 me hands. I shoved thim away and wint out to think. 
 In the prociss it occurred to me that the Gladys might 
 not be lost. I wint back and asked thim how they knew 
 it was time to mourn. ( If that launch is ashore they 
 are as close to the fire as they can get/ I tould thim. 
 ' And if she has gone down 't is too late to dhry their 
 stockings.' 
 
 " ' She is lost in the fog,' I was infor-rmed. She shud 
 have been back at her wharf at four o'clock. 'T was 
 now turned six and the bar was rough and blanketed 
 in mist. The captain of the harbor tug had stated, with 
 wise shakes of the head, that the Gladys cud do no more 
 than lay outside the night and wait for sunshine and a 
 smooth crossing. I shoved thim away from me again 
 and wint out to think. 
 
 " It was a mur-rky fog, the sort that slathers over the 
 watther like thick oil. Beyond the hill I cud hear the 
 surf pounding like a riveter in a boiler. Overhead was 
 a sheet of gray cloud, flying in curds before the wind, 
 and in me mouth was the taste of the deep sea, blown in 
 upon me with the scent of the storm. Two words with 
 the skipper of the tug tould me the rest. ' It 's coming
 
 50 ACROSS THE LATITUDES 
 
 on to blow a little from the south' ard,' said me bould 
 mariner. l It 's so thick the Gladys can't find her way 
 back. Her passengers will be cold and hungry whin 
 they retur-rn in the mor-rninV 
 
 " ' And will ye not go after thim ? ' 
 
 " ' I can't/ says he. ' Me steamer is built for the bay 
 and one sea on the bar wud destroy the investmint. The 
 life-saving crew is up north after a wreck.' 
 
 " ' Is there no seagoin' craft in this harbor ? ' I 
 demands. 
 
 " * There is not,' says he. ' Captain Tyler took his 
 gas schooner down the coast yesterday.' 
 
 " So I sat down and thought, wonderin' how I cud 
 sneak off me unifor-rm and have peace. For I knew 
 that me brass buttons wud keep me tongue busy all night 
 explainin' that I was not a special providence paid be 
 the Governmint to save fools from purgat'ry. In me 
 thoughts I heard a wor-rd in me ear. I looked up. 
 'T was me bould Tad, with the gang clustherin' at his 
 heels. 
 
 " ' Ye have followed the sea for many years ? ' says he. 
 
 " * I have followed it whin it was fair weather,' I re 
 sponded, ' but the most of the time the sea has chased 
 me ahead of it. Me coattail is still wet from the times 
 it caught me. Speak up ! What is it ? ' 
 
 " The bhoy pulled out of his jacket his ould chart and 
 laid it before me. ' The Gladys is at anchor off these 
 rocks,' says he, layin' a small finger on a spot. ( And in 
 this weather she will have to lie there as long as she 
 can. Whin it blows she must up anchor and get out or
 
 MICHAEL O'ROURKE 51 
 
 go ashore here.' He moved his finger a mite and it 
 rested on what meant rocks. 
 
 "<Well'Iremar-rks. 
 
 " ' Me father and all the bhoys' fathers are gone up 
 north to rescue the crew of a steam schooner that 's 
 wrecked. Before they get back it will be too late. I 
 thought ' 
 
 " ' What were ye thinkin', ye scut ? ' says I fiercely. 
 
 " He dropped one foot on the other and looked me 
 between the eyes. ' I was thinkin' we wud go afther her 
 and save her,' says he, very bould. 
 
 " I cast me eyes over the bunch of little felleys and 
 laughed. But me bould Tad did n't wink. * There 's 
 people out there drownding,' says he. ' We 've dhrilled 
 and we know all the ropes ; but we can't pull our skiff 
 across the bar and the big boat is not for us, bein' the 
 keeper's orders. And we have n't the weight to pull it 
 anyhow.' And he stared me out of me laugh. 
 
 " ' There 's no seagoin' craft in the harbor,' I says, to 
 stop his nonsinse. 
 
 " l There is another launch,' he remar-rks casually. 
 
 " We looked at each other and he thin says : ' Can ye 
 run a gasoline engine ? ' 
 
 " ' I have had to,' I infor-rms him, ' but I dislike the 
 smell.' 
 
 " ' The owner of this launch is not here,' says me 
 young sprig. ' And he niver tould us not to take it. 
 If you '11 run the engine we '11 be off and rescue the folks 
 on the Gladys!' 
 
 " Be the saints ! I laughed to kill mesilf , till the little
 
 52 ACROSS THE LATITUDES 
 
 brat up and remar-rks to the gang : l These lighthouse 
 officers wear a unifor-rm and have no wor-rkin' clothes 
 at all, not needin' thim in their business.' 
 
 " So I parleyed with thim a momint to save me face. 
 ' And how will ye save thim that 's dyin' in deep 
 watthers ? ' 
 
 " ' By to-morrow nobody can cross the bar/ I 'm in- 
 for-rmed. ' And the skipper of the Gladys don't know 
 this coast. We '11 just pick him up and pilot him in.' 
 
 " ' But the bar ! ' I protests. l It 's too rough to cross 
 a launch inwardbound, even if ye can get out.' 
 
 " ' I know the soft places,' says the little sprig of a 
 bhoy, very proudly. ( Come on.' 
 
 " ' And if I don't come ? ' I inquired. 
 
 " He leaned over and touched the brass buttons on me 
 jacket. ' Ye have sworn to do your best,' says he. ' I 've 
 not had a chance to take me oath yet as a second-class 
 scout, but between ourselves we have done so. I appeal 
 to yez as one man to another.' 
 
 " I got up. ' I 've niver expicted to serve undher so 
 small a captain,' I remar-rks, ' but that is neither here 
 nor there. Where is that gasoline engine ? ' 
 
 " We stepped proudly off in the dusk, me bould Tad 
 houldin' himsilf very straight beside me and the gang 
 marchin' at our heels shouldher to shouldher. Prisintly 
 we came to a wharf and ridin' to the float below it was 
 a big white launch, cabined and decked. Tad jumped 
 down and the gang folleyed. Thin I lowered mesilf 
 down with dignity and intered the miserable engine 
 room.
 
 MICHAEL O'ROURKE 53 
 
 " I have run every sort of engine and machine made 
 by experts and other ignoramuses. I balk at nothing. 
 The engine was new to me, but I lit a lantern and ex 
 amined its inwards with anxiety and superciliousness. 
 Prisintly, by the grace of God, it started off. A very 
 small bhoy held the lantern for me while I adjusted the 
 valves and the carbureter, and this bould lad infor-rmed 
 me with pride that the ' leader ' had assigned him to 
 me as my engine-room crew. And whin the machine 
 was revolvin' with some speed that individual thrust his 
 head in at the door to ask me if I was ready. * If ye 
 are,' says that limb of wickedness, ' we will start, 
 chief.' 
 
 " ' Ye may start any time,' I says, with great respict. 
 1 But whin we '11 stop is another matther.' 
 
 " ' Ye must keep her goin' whiles we cross the bar,' 
 he infor-rms me, with a straight look. 
 
 " The little gong rang and I threw in the clutch and 
 felt the launch slide away. The jingle came and I 
 opened her up. 'T was a powerful machine and whin I 
 felt the jerk and pull of her four cylinders I sint me 
 assistant to find the gasoline tank and see w r hether we 
 had oil enough. Thinks I, if this machine eats up fuel 
 like this we must e'en have enough and aplenty. The 
 bhoy came back with smut on his nose and shtated that 
 the tank was full. 
 
 " ' How do ye know ? ' I demanded. 
 
 " ' I 've helped the owner fill her up several times,' 
 says the brat. f The leader insists that we know the in- 
 sides of every boat on the bay. 'T is part of our prac-
 
 54 ACROSS THE LATITUDES 
 
 tice and whin we get to be scouts we will all learn to 
 run gasoline engines.' 
 
 " So we went along and the engines war-rmed up ; 
 and I trimmed the lantern and sat me down comfort 
 able as a cat on a pan of dough. Thin there was a hor 
 rible rumpus on deck and some watther splashed down 
 the back of me neck. ' 'T is the bar,' says me proud 
 engine-room crew, balancin' himsilf on the plates. 
 
 " * They are shovin' dhrinks across it too fast for me/ 
 I retorts, as more watther simmers down. 
 
 " ' Oh, the leader knows all the soft places,' he re 
 turns proudly, this bould sprig. And with a whoop we 
 drove through a big felley that almost swamped us. 
 Thin, so far as I cud judge, the worst was over. 
 
 " Prisintly we got into the trough of the sea and 
 rowled along for an hour more. Then the jingle tinkled 
 and I slowed down. Me bould Tad stuck his head in at 
 the little door. ' The Gladys is right inshore from us,' 
 he remar-rks, careless-like. ' We will signal her to up 
 anchor and come with us.' He took me lantern and 
 vanished. 
 
 " Whin I had waited long enough for all the oil to 
 have burned out of three lanterns I turned the engines 
 over to me crew and stepped out on deck. It was a 
 weepin' fog, with more rowlin' in all the time, and the 
 feel on me cheek was like that of a stor-rm. I saw me 
 bould Tad on the little for'a'd deck, swingin' his little 
 lamp. 
 
 " ' What 's the matther with that scut of a skipper ? ' 
 I inquires.
 
 MICHAEL O'ROURKE 55 
 
 " The bhoy was fair cryin' with rage and shame. 
 1 He cannot undherstand the signal/ says he ; ' and 't is 
 dangerous to run closer to him in this sea.' 
 
 " ' If he don't undherstand yer signals,' says I, ' 't is 
 useless to talk more to him with yer ar-rms. Use yer 
 tongue.' 
 
 " And at that he raised a squeal that cud maybe be 
 heard a hundred feet, the voice of him bein' but a bhoy's, 
 without noise and power. ' Let be,' says I. ' I 've 
 talked me mind across the deep watthers many times.' 
 And I filled me lungs and let out a blast that fetched 
 everybody on deck on the other launch. Thin I tould 
 that skipper, with rage in me throat, that he must up 
 anchor and folley us or be drownded with all his pas 
 sengers dragging on his coattails through purgat'ry. 
 And he listened, and prisintly we saw the Gladys creep 
 through the darkness and fog up till us. Whin she 
 crossed our stern me bould Tad tould me to command 
 her to folley us into port. 
 
 " Ravin's and ragin's were nothin' to the language we 
 traded across that watther for the five minutes necessary 
 to knock loose the wits of that heathen mariner. In the 
 end he saw the light, and the passengers that crowded 
 his sloppy decks waved their arms and yelled with de 
 light. Me bould Tad went into the little pilot-house 
 and slammed the door. He spoke to me sharply. 
 ' 'T will blow a gale before midnight.' He rang the bell 
 for full speed ahead. 
 
 " An hour later I was signaled to stop me machines. 
 I dropped the clutch and sint me assistant for
 
 56 ACROSS THE LATITUDES 
 
 news. He came back with big eyes. ' The leader 
 says the other launch can't make it across the bar/ 
 he reports. 
 
 " ' Well ? ' I says. 
 
 " ' We 're goin' to take off her passengers and cross 
 in oursilves,' says the brat. With that he vanishes. I 
 folleyed him. 
 
 " We were stopped right in the fog, with roily waves 
 towerin' past us and the dull noise of the bar ahead of 
 us. The Gladys was right astern of us and even in the 
 darkness I cud catch a glimpse of white faces and hear 
 little screams of women. I went to leeward and there 
 found me bould Tad launchin' the little dingey that was 
 stowed on the roof of the cabin. Whin it was overside 
 four of me bould gang drops into it and pulls away for 
 the other launch. ( They '11 be swamped and drownded,' 
 I remar-rks. 
 
 " ' They will not,' says Tad. ' I trained thim mesilf. 
 'T is child's play.' 
 
 " ' Childher play with queer toys in this counthry,' 
 I continues to mesilf; and I had a pain in me pit to 
 see thim careerin' on the big waves that looked nigh to 
 breakin' any minute. But they came back with three 
 women and a baby, with nothin' to say excipt : ' There 's 
 thirty-one of thim, leader ! ' 
 
 " ' Leave the min,' says he, real sharp. ' Tell the 
 captain we '11 come back for thim after we 've landed 
 the women safe.' 
 
 " I tucked the women down in the afther cabin, snug 
 and warm, and wint back on deck. The boat was away
 
 MICHAEL O'ROURKE 57 
 
 again, swingin' over the seas as easy as a bird. l That 's 
 good boatmanship,' I remar-rks. 
 
 " ' It 's young Carson in command,' says me bould 
 bhoy leader. 
 
 " 'T was fifteen minutes before the boat came back 
 and thin there was a man in it, with two women. Whin 
 it swung alongside Tad helped out the ladies and thin 
 pushed at the man with his foot. ' Back ye go ! ' he 
 says. l No room on this craft for min.' 
 
 " ' But you 're only a lot of bhoys ! ' says the man in 
 a rage. ' Who are you to give orders ? I '11 come 
 aboard.' 
 
 " ' Ye will not,' says me bould Tad, and I reached 
 into the engine room for a spanner whereby to back him 
 up, for I admired the spunk of the young sprig. But 
 the man stared into the lad's face and said nothin'. And 
 the boat pulled away with him still starin' over his 
 shouldher. 
 
 " The nixt boatload was all the rest of the women 
 folks and childher and Tad ordered the dingey swung 
 in and secured. Thin he tur-rned to me. ' We will 
 go in.' 
 
 " ' Which way ? ' I demands. 
 
 " He put his little hand to his ear. l Hear it ? ' he 
 asks calmly. I listened and by the great Hivins there 
 was a whistlin' buoy off in the darkness. I wint down 
 to me machines. 
 
 " I 've run me engines many a long night whin the 
 divil was bruising his knuckles agin the plates beneath 
 me. But the nixt hour made me tin years ouldher. For
 
 58 ACROSS THE LATITUDES 
 
 we had n't more 'n got well started in before it was 
 ' Stop her ! ' and * Full speed ahead ! ' and ' Ease her ! ' 
 Me assistant was excited, but kept on spillin' oil into 
 the cups and feelin' the bearin's like an ould hand. 
 Once, whin a sea walloped over our little craft, he 
 grinned across at me. ' There ain't many soft places 
 to-night! ' says he. 
 
 " i Ye 're a child of the Ould Nick,' says I, ' and eat 
 fire out of an asbestos spoon. Ye wud be runnin' hell 
 within an hour af ther ye left yer little corpse ! ' 
 
 " * 'T is the scout's law not to be afraid,' retor-rts me 
 young demon. But me attintion was distracted be a 
 tremenjous scamperin' overhead. ( For the love of 
 mercy, what is that ? ' I yelled. 
 
 " ' 'T is the leader puttin' out the drag,' says me crew. 
 ' Whin the breakers are high it 's safer to ride in with 
 a drag over the stern. It keeps the boat from broachin' 
 to.' And to the dot of his last word I felt the sudden, 
 strong pull of something on the launch's tail. Thin 
 something lifted us up and laid us down with a slap, 
 like a pan of dough on a mouldin' board. Me machines 
 coughed and raced and thin almost stopped. Whin 
 they were goin' again I saw me assistant houldin' to a 
 stanchion. His face was pasty white and he gulped. 
 ' Are ye scared at last ? ' I demanded of him. 
 
 " 1 1 am seasick,' he chokes back. And he was, be 
 Hivins ! 
 
 " So we joggled and bobbled about and I wondhered 
 how many times we had crossed the bar from ind to ind, 
 whin suddenly it smoothed down and I saw a red light
 
 4i For the love of mercy, what is that ? " I yelled. 
 
 Page 58
 
 MICHAEL O'ROURKE 59 
 
 through the little windey. Me assistant saw it too. 
 ' That 's the range light off the jetty/ says he. l We 're 
 inside.' 
 
 " I shoved open the door to the deck and looked out. 
 The fog lay about us thick and the wind was risin'; 
 I cud barely make out the lights ahead. I stuck me 
 head out and glanced astern. 'Way back of us, like a 
 match behind a curtain, I saw a little light bobbing up 
 and down in the fog. I took me crew be the ear and 
 thrust his head out beside mine. ' What is that ? ' I 
 demanded. 
 
 " ' 'T is the other launch,' he says. i I guess they fol- 
 leyed us in.' 
 
 " We ran up to the wharf and the gang made every 
 thing fast ; and then me bould Tad comes to me with a 
 sheepish face. ' Wud ye mind tellin' the ladies and 
 childher that they can go ashore and get to the hotel ? ' 
 he says. 
 
 " So it was me that wint in and tould the ladies they 
 were saved and helped thim to the wharf and saw thim 
 started for the hotel. Thin I came back to the launch, 
 but there was nobody there. Me bould gang had disap 
 peared. Just thin the other launch came up, limpin' on 
 one leg, covered with drippin' men and blasphemy. 
 They did n't wait for the lines to be put out, but jumped 
 for the float like rats out of biscuit barrels and swarmed 
 for the hotel. Whiles I was watchin' thim the skipper 
 of the Gladys pulls himsilf out of his wrecked pilot 
 house and approaches me with heavy footfalls. * I 'm 
 tould that 't was bhoys that manned this launch,' he
 
 60 ACROSS THE LATITUDES 
 
 remar-rks. ' If it is so I wud n't have come in and 
 nearly lost me ship/ 
 
 " ' If it had n't been for the bhoys ye 'd now be 
 driftin' into the breakers off yer favorite fishin' spot/ 
 I retor-rts. ' I 've seen many a man who 'd found the 
 door of hell locked against him swear because he had n't 
 the key in his pocket. Nixt time ye try suicide leave the 
 women and childher ashore.' And with the words out of 
 me mouth the gale broke upon us like the blow of a fist. 
 
 " We took shelter behind a warehouse and the skipper 
 of the Gladys said in me ear : ' I suppose the owner of 
 the launch had to get what crew he cud. Where is he ? 
 I 'd like to thank him.' 
 
 " ' If ye will come with me to the hotel ye shall see 
 the man ye owe life to,' I infor-rmed him. 
 
 " As we intered the hotel a tall man, with the 
 mar-rk of aut'ority on him, observed me unifor-rm and 
 addressed me : ' What do you know about this ? ' 
 
 " Aut'ority is always aut'ority, and I tould him what 
 I knew and had seen, not forbearin' to mintion the 
 gang and their wild ambitions. And whin I had fin 
 ished this man said : 1 1 shall muster thim in to 
 morrow. I happen to be in command of the scouts in 
 this district.' 
 
 " ' But they have n't their dollars to put in the little 
 bank/ I remar-rked. l And they tell me without their 
 dollar they cannot be second-class scouts, whativer that 
 is.' 
 
 " At this a fat man reached for a hat off the hook and 
 put his hand in his pocket, drew it out and emptied it 
 into the hat, and passed it.
 
 MICHAEL O'ROURKE 61 
 
 " And while the money jingled into it my respict for 
 the brave lads rose into me mouth. ' They won't take 
 it,' I said. ' They have refused money before. 'T is 
 their oath.' 
 
 " The man with aut'ority looked over at me. ' The 
 chief is right/ he said. ' They have earned only a dol 
 lar apiece. Whose launch was that they took ? ' 
 
 "'Faith and I don't know/ I said. 'They re- 
 mar-rked that the owner Hivin bliss him ! had 
 niver forbidden thim to use it.' 
 
 " ' Thin we must pay the rint of it for the night/ 
 says he. * But the bhoys will get only a dollar a piece. 
 Where are they ? ' 
 
 " ' They disappeared whin the boat was fast, sir/ says 
 I. ' I think they wint home. 'T is bedtime.' 
 
 " t D' ye know where the pathrol-leader lives ? ' he 
 demands. 
 
 " So we walked up the hill in the darkness and wind 
 till we reached the house of me bould Tad. A knock at 
 the door brought the missus, with a towel on her ar-rm. 
 I pushed in. ' We Ve come to see yer son/ says I. 
 
 " We stepped in and saw the young sprig be the fire, 
 on a chair, with his feet in a bowl of watther and mus- 
 thard. He was for runnin' whin he saw us, but cud n't 
 for the lack of clothes. So he scowled at us. ' This is 
 the commander of the scouts/ I says, inthroducin' me 
 tall companion. ' And here 's yer five dollars to put 
 with yer dollar and six bits into the little bank, so 's yez 
 can all of yez be second-class scouts.' 
 
 " ' We can't take the money/ says he, with a terrible
 
 62 ACROSS THE LATITUDES 
 
 growl. ' The oath forbids us to take money for savin' 
 life.' 
 
 " ' Don't be a hero/ I rebukes him. ' Ye 're only a 
 small bhoy in his undherclothes with yer feet in hot 
 watther and musthard. No hero was iver in such a pre 
 dicament. This gintleman will infor-rm ye about the 
 money.' 
 
 " Me bould companion looked at the slip of a lad and 
 said sharply : ' Report to me to-morrow morning with 
 yer pathrol at sivin o'clock to be musthered in.' 
 
 " With that we mar-rched out into the stor-rm and 
 back to the hotel, where I wint to slape like a bhoy me- 
 silf me that was sixty-four me last birthday and niver 
 thought to make a fool of mesilf with a gang of bhoys 
 and a gasoline engine and that on a holiday ! "
 
 MICHAEL O'ROURKE 63 
 
 III 
 
 A PERILOUS PHILANTHROPY 
 
 CHIEF Engineer Michael O'Rourke was come back to 
 us on Columbia River Light- Vessel No. 188 from six 
 weeks' leave of absence. He scrambled up the side lad 
 der, waved his hand to the mate of the tender and dived 
 below to his room, holding in the crook of his arm a 
 very shiny new derby hat. Eive minutes later he 
 emerged from the cabin clad in an old uniform. He 
 then consented to talk. 
 
 " I spint my lave of absince as a passenger on a big 
 liner," he informed us. " For six weeks I 've wor-rn 
 the clothes of the rich and uncomfortable and aten 
 the food of the supercilious and unemployed. I 've 
 scor-rned me infariors who wor-rked for a livin' and 
 sworn with iligance at the flunkey that set tin cints' 
 worth of fruit on me bed and char-rged me a dollar for 
 the court' sy. Once more I 'm an infarior mesilf, lookin' 
 forward to Uncle Sam's payday; and if you, Misther 
 Lof, will bring me the little book of stores and the in- 
 gine-room log I will put you back in your place and 
 assume again the duties of chief ingineer of this packet." 
 Having gone through this formality, Mickey relaxed 
 and remarked that travel opened the mind. As he spoke 
 to seafarers, we took his statement as philosophical and 
 not personal. He corrected the adjective: " 'T is not 
 philosophical I mean. Philosophy is for ould people 
 who are too poor to be philanthropic. I 've moved in
 
 64 ACROSS THE LATITUDES 
 
 high society and I scor-rn philosophy. Me stronghould 
 is philanthropy, the amusemint of the nobility of free 
 Ameriky. 
 
 " No ; ye may some of yez be philosophers, havin' to 
 wor-rk for your wages and wid no money to spind in 
 iligant ways; but philanthropy is two steps above ye. 
 I 'm now a philanthropist and me mind is opened. 'T is 
 poor wor-rk instructin' thim that are busy earnin' their 
 pay, but I see that ye are an ignorant lot and deserve 
 nOthin' betther than to be taught be your supariors. 
 
 " None of yez remimber Tommy Stubbs, 'prentice 
 boy on the ould City of Brussels God rest her bones ! 
 but all of yez know from the papers of Thomas 
 Stubbs, the millioner of New York. Ye know him for 
 his philanthropy, which means that he has so much 
 money that he cannot spind it honestly and therefore 
 hires honest min to spind it for him. He was a pas 
 senger on the Emperor, on which I wint to China but 
 just now. And I will tell you the story of Thomas, once 
 Tommy, and elucidate to yer dull minds the perils that 
 philanthropists suffer, which are greater than any perils 
 on the deep watthers. 
 
 " In the first place, I found mesilf in San Francisco 
 with three paychecks in me hat and still money in me 
 pocket. Says I to mesilf, ' Me bould boy, ye are rich. 
 How will ye spind your fortune ? ' And mesilf answers, 
 with wan eye cocked at a big placard, ' Ye will go as a 
 passenger on a big liner for the first time in yer life 
 and speak to no man widout the coin ready in his pocket 
 to show his supariority to thim that wor-rk/
 
 MICHAEL O'ROURKE 65 
 
 " So I wint in and bought me a cabin passage to Yoko 
 hama and return, with stopover privileges at Honolulu 
 and a fine opportunity to visit Manila if yer money hild 
 out. And the next day I wint aboard and a flunkey took 
 me little grip and led me down across the carpets to a 
 little room wid two other min sittin' on the edge of the 
 bunks like gulls on a plank. I greeted thim haughtily 
 and demanded to know the usual quistions asked be the 
 first-class passengers. Havin' thus impressed the flunkey 
 and me two fellow passengers wid me ignorance and 
 pride, I wint on deck and surveyed the poor sailors as 
 they got the ship out of her berth. And whin I hear-rd 
 the ingine-room gongs ring I smiled and sat down in a 
 chair like a gintleman. 
 
 " Before we were outside the Heads they served us 
 with luncheon and I found me place at a little table 
 tucked away in one corner of the saloon. I ordered the 
 things I couldn't make out the names of and thin ate 
 what I could of thim, which was little. Whin I had 
 done me duty I looked around, and right across from 
 me, at the captain's table, I saw Tommy Stubbs, who 
 was a 'prentice on the ould City of Brussels whin I was 
 in the black-pan watch. He sat there with his fine 
 clothes and his gold watch, atin' slowly and wid the air 
 of a man who had aten too much the week before. Be 
 side him sat a lady in a green gown wid red hair and 
 a look of sorrow on her face. 
 
 " After the meal I wint on deck and to the smokin' 
 room, where I lit me pipe and stared proudly forth out 
 of me plush seat. And me eyes rested on the eyes of
 
 66 ACROSS THE LATITUDES 
 
 Tommy Stubbs. I grinned at him and he grinned back. 
 ' 'T is Mickey O'Eourke ! ' says he, suckin' his cigar. 
 
 " ' It is,' I responds. ' And whin did Tommy Stubbs 
 quit an honest livin' and become a passenger ? ' 
 
 " He moved across be me side, spite of the looks of 
 several of the American nobility. And the story came 
 out of him like salt from the condinser. 
 
 " Tommy Stubbs had quit bein' Tommy whin his 
 father, who was one of the owners of the ould City Line, 
 had died and gone to glory. So much money had been 
 left him be the executors that he didn't need to know 
 anny more and so left the sea. Thin he was educated, 
 which is learnin' to do nothin' widout excitin' the con- 
 timpt of your infariors. And after he was educated, 
 me bould Tommy tould me, he tried to do good with his 
 money. ' Ye see,' said the brave felley, ' I had almost 
 been a wor-rking man mesilf and me hear-rt wint out 
 to thim that toil. Bein' young, me hear-rt wint out spe 
 cially to the women and gur-rls, so that I took little 
 pleasure out of me club, me horses and me vally. 'T is 
 awful to think of thim that must wor-rk for their bread 
 and butter,' says he. 
 
 " ' 'T is cruel har-rd,' says I. ' And what did yez 
 do?' 
 
 " ' I studied philanthropy,' says he. 1 1 'm known 
 now as a philanthropist from Liverpool and the tame 
 parts of Scotland to the wildest parts of Ameriky.' 
 
 " ' And what is a philanthropist ? ' says I. ' We had 
 none in Ireland.' - 
 
 " He ixplained that it was a man wid money who de-
 
 MICHAEL O'ROURKE 67 
 
 spised other people wid money and tried to live decent, 
 like the poor. ' Ye may have read in the paper/ said he, 
 ' that I married a workin' gur-rl.' 
 
 " ' Is she the redhaired gur-rl that sat beside ye at the 
 table wid the sorrowful look on her sweet face ? ' I 
 demanded. 
 
 " ' It is,' says he. ' The sorrow is for the gur-rls that 
 still have to wor-rk widout the advantages of wealth.' 
 
 " Thin he gave me a cigar which I smoked in silence 
 like anny gintleman; and whin it was finished I wint 
 to me room and found me two companions sittin' in 
 their bunks houldin' their heads wid wake hands. So 
 I rang the bell for the flunkey and expostulated wid him 
 for the discomfort of havin' to sleep wid min widout 
 stomachs and finally tur-rned in on the main deck wid 
 Pat Biordan, chief fireman in the ould days whin I was 
 runnin' in the Pacific Coast Company. 
 
 " In the mor-rnin' the first man I met was Tommy 
 Stubbs. He greeted me heartily and we walked up and 
 down the deck unmindful of the boys who were tryin' 
 to clane it against the sharp eye of the mate. I inquired 
 after his lady. He sighed. ' She is unhappy, Mickey,' 
 said he. l It seems as if she niver could forget the ould 
 days and the poor gur-rls who wor-rked for their livinV 
 
 " And in the early mor-rnin' air, wid none about, he 
 opened his heart as did young Tommy years before, 
 whin a 'prentice lad looked up to a stoker and made 
 f rinds wid him for the sake of a warm place and a yarn. 
 I tell yez the truth, as Tommy tould it to me that mor-rn. 
 
 " Whin he had come into his money and it was
 
 68 ACROSS THE LATITUDES 
 
 thousands of pounds he had been educated till he sor 
 rowed for thim that had less. And in his sorrowin' he 
 met Lelia Toomey, an Irish gur-rl who was livin' down 
 in New York on the six dollars a week she made be 
 sellin' goods in a big shop. And it struck me bould 
 Tommy that, if he was to be a philanthropist and do the 
 right thing, he ought to marry Lelia. Which he did. 
 
 " ' I married her because I found mesilf cheated and 
 foxed at ivery tur-rn,' he tould me. ' 'T was me part to 
 do good among the wor-rkin' classes and so I married 
 Lelia. She has been a wonderful help to me in me phi 
 lanthropy, knowin' the ways of the gur-rls and their 
 terrible sufferin's. Widout her I would a' been a poor 
 benyf actor to the race through ignorance.' 
 
 " ' Philanthropy is a new name for love,' says I. 
 
 " ' No, Mickey,' says he. ' I did n't marry for love. 
 'T was merely a part of me philanthropy. A man of 
 my high position cannot afford to consider himself. Ye 
 see she could help me to give me money away widout 
 scandal, knowin' as she did the ins and outs of bein' 
 poor. Ye have no notion how wicked the poor are whin 
 they think they can do ye out of yer fortune.' 
 
 " And the felley sighed and looked away. 
 
 " After breakfast Tommy hunted me out and said : 
 ' Ye know no newspaper men, Mickey ? ' 
 
 " ' Divil a wan,' said I. 
 
 " ' Thin I will talk to yez,' says he. ' For six years 
 I 've been silent and speechless because the papers put 
 it all into print.' 
 
 " ' I saw ye talkin' this minute to that fine lady wid
 
 MICHAEL O'ROURKE 69 
 
 the diamonds on her fingers,' said me bould Mickey. 
 t And ye were talkin' free and easy as any gossoon of a 
 dewey mor-rnin whira skirts are lifted high.' 
 
 " ' That is a lady of me own class,' says he. ' She is 
 rich and says nothin' of what she thinks.' 
 
 " ( And I 'm poor and cannot speak me mind,' I re 
 turns briskly. ' So, talk away ! ' 
 
 " But our talk amounted to little, being mostly mesilf 
 remimberin' the ould days on the City of Brussels and 
 how we used to enrage the skipper. And suddintly 
 Tommy quits me and goes to speak wid the rich lady 
 wid diamonds. 
 
 " I strolled off, free and easy, and in my walkin' 
 passed Mrs. Tommy, wid her red hair and her green 
 dress and her look of sorrow. I made bould to stop and 
 address her. f I 'm Mickey O'Rourke, a shipmate of yer 
 husband's,' says I. ' I knew him whin he was poor and 
 no philanthropist.' 
 
 " She smiled at me sweetly and I sat down. ' He 
 tould me yez were Irish,' I remarked. 
 
 " * I still smell me fatheu's pipe,' says she. 
 
 " ( I observe that yer husband smokes cigars,' I 
 retorts. 
 
 " ' He is very generous/ says she. ' And he is rich.' 
 
 " And wid these wor-rds we fell into sociability and 
 talked. She seemed to enjoy me bould Mickey's stories 
 of her husband's young days and at the ind of it all she 
 said : ' I wish ye could make Tommy remimber the 
 times he had whin he was a boy.' 
 
 " ' God forbid ! ' says I. ' He was thin poor and in-
 
 70 ACROSS THE LATITUDES 
 
 dustrious. Now he is rich and a philanthropist. Wid 
 a fine wife like yersilf and all his money, why should 
 he remimber the days whin he wor-rked ? ' 
 
 " ' Mickey,' says she, ' a philanthropist is no husband 
 at all, at all.' 
 
 " She was a lady and said no more. I wint down to 
 me room and thrust out me two companions and hild me 
 head in me hands to think. 
 
 " 'T was a poor broth to be made out of such fine 
 game. Here was Tommy, wid his money and his phi 
 lanthropy. There was a fine gur-rl wid her sorrow and 
 her sweet ways. And they were farther apart than the 
 divil and Saint Peter. Tommy, wid the ignorance of 
 wealth, had married a gur-rl in order that he might 
 give his money to other gur-rls widout being cheated. 
 Lelia Toomey had married a philanthropist, not a 
 heavy-fisted man wid a war-rm wor-rd and love in his 
 heart. I hild me head so long that me neck had to be 
 reminded be me stomach that it was meal time. 
 
 " Siveral times did Tommy Stubbs have speech wid 
 me. But he had speech more often wid the lady wid 
 the diamonds. And Lelia Toomey sat in her chair and 
 looked out on the sea. To comfort her I sat in a chair 
 and smoked me pipe widout noticin' the growls and 
 scor-rn of the deck boys. 
 
 " One day she spoke to me softly : ' Mickey, did me 
 husband tell yez why he married me ? ' 
 
 " I did not look at her for shame. In the silence she 
 put her little hand on me rough paw. ' Mickey,' says 
 she again, ' did yez marry the gur-rl yez loved ? '
 
 MICHAEL O'ROURKE 71 
 
 " And we sat there together wid nothing to say. But 
 prisintly I spoke up : ' Have ye had childher ? ' 
 
 " ' No childher/ says she. 
 
 " l Nor I,' says me bould Mickey to comfort her. 
 ' No father have I been excipt a godfather, and the 
 priest swore I disgraced mesilf at the time.' 
 
 " ' Thin we are even/ says she. 
 
 " ' We are not even/ says I. ( I have nayther chick 
 nor child. Ye have a husband that is rich and notorious 
 and a philanthropist.' 
 
 " ' We will say no more about it, Mickey/ says she 
 softly. ' A bed is a bed though the covers be thin. I 've 
 made me bed.' 
 
 " ' And no sleep do yez get/ says I. l But I am silent.' 
 
 " Which was a lie. For I wint and dragged Tommy 
 away from the fine lady wid diamonds and pushed him 
 up in a corner and said : ' Misther Stubbs, 't is none of 
 poor Mickey's business ; but I stole a spoon whin I was 
 a babe in ar-rms and have stuck it into ivery man's bowl 
 since. Will yez tell me why ye married that fine Irish 
 lass?' 
 
 " He tried to scor-rn me, but I would not be scor-rned. 
 And thin he said : ' I have done a great service to the 
 wor-rkin' gur-rls of the wor-rld. I have ilevated thim. 
 I have done iverythin' that me wife advised. But I 
 have me own class, which I long for at times. A man 
 cannot live widout the society of his equals.' 
 
 " I saw that he considered Lelia Toomey no equal of 
 his, being merely the wife of a philanthropist. So I 
 shook him off and wint down to me room to think. Me
 
 72 ACROSS THE LATITUDES 
 
 thoughts left the Emperor and returned to a place yez 
 know nothing of and a gur-rl yez will niver hear the 
 name of. At the ind of me meditation I wint back to 
 Lelia and said : ' Do yez love yer husband ? ' 
 
 " l 'T is mighty impudent ye are, Mickey O'Rourke ! ' 
 says she, wid a blush on her cheek. f But if it be con 
 cern of yours, I do.' 
 
 " ' Thin I will explain to yez how to put Mrs. Dia 
 monds in her place,' says I. ' I have lied to ye, but now 
 I will tell the truth. Tommy tould me he married yez 
 to help the wor-rkin' gur-rls. But I think he married 
 ye because he loved ye. Philanthropy may do for so 
 ciety, but I knew him whin he had no money and the 
 heart of him is good. The trouble wid me bould Tommy 
 is that he does not know he has been in love, being 
 blinded by his riches.' 
 
 11 The woman drew hersilf up proudly. ' Mickey, 
 I 've given yez the privileges of a frind,' says she. 
 ' Now ye go too far, interf erin' between me and me 
 husband ! ' 
 
 " ' I have seen manny a man made a fool of by a 
 woman,' I retorted bouldly. ' But niver before have I 
 seen a good woman made a fool of be money. And 't is 
 you, Lelia Toomey, that are cheated out of your rights 
 be the force of gold. Ye could have had your husband 
 yoursilf and instid ye allowed his money to snatch him 
 away from ye. Therefore I tell ye that ye are a fool, 
 in spite of yer pretty face and yer philanthropy. What 
 is philanthropy to childher ? ' And I scor-rned her. 
 
 " That night at dinner I heard Stubbs talking very
 
 73 
 
 proudly to some other man at the table. 1 1 am very 
 much interested in that form of philanthropy/ said he. 
 ' I have made a special study of the troubles of the 
 wor-rkin'-gur-rl class. Me wife was a wor-rkin' gur-rl. 
 I have learned much from her.' 
 
 " I stared over and saw the eyes of people fixed on 
 Lelia Toomey. Mrs. Diamonds looked at her specially 
 tender and said in a sweet voice : ( How glad you must 
 be, Mrs. Stubbs, to have the opportunity of ilevatin' the 
 poor gur-rls such as you were ! ' 
 
 " And Lelia blushed and looked down, instead of 
 givin' the woman an Irish answer. I was ashamed for 
 her. 
 
 " Whin we arrived in Honolulu we first-class pas 
 sengers all disembarked to take expinsive trips over the 
 city and Tommy Stubbs left his wife to mail letthers 
 about philanthropy and took Mrs. Diamonds to some 
 beach. 'T was a scandal on the spot, for who had not 
 hear-rd Mrs. Diamonds' open scor-rn of Mrs. Stubbs? 
 And who had not hear-rd Stubbs himsilf refer to her 
 always as a wor-rkin' gur-rl whom he had married in 
 order to ilevate the poor and needy ? So I wint nowhere 
 and informed me companions that I knew all about 
 Honolulu and despised it. So they departed to wonder 
 at the beauties of Nature and spind their money. Whin 
 all were gone and the coalies were at wor-rk dumpin' 
 fuel into the Emperor I sneaked along the upper deck 
 till I came in front of Lelia Toomey. She looked up 
 at me out of her wet eyes and said : ' Mickey, are ye a 
 gintleman ? '
 
 " 1 1 'd do much for yez,' I replied. i But kape widhin 
 me limits.' 
 
 " ' Go away and forget that I am weeping,' says she. 
 
 " Whin the Irish weep the English get ready for more 
 trouble; and with me eyes over the sea I stirred that 
 young woman to more tears, knowin' that whin they 
 dried 'twould be in the fire that is Ireland's sunburst 
 Prisintly she looked up at me. ' Mickey,' says she, ' am 
 I not as pretty as Mrs. Diamonds ? ' 
 
 " ' I rayfuse to tell,' I returns. 
 
 " ( Is she more a woman worth while than me ? ' she 
 persists. 
 
 " ' I have nothin' to say,' says me bould Mickey. 
 
 " ' And why does Tommy like her betther and lave me 
 to the empty glory of bein' a poor wor-rkin' gur-rl who 
 married riches ? ' she goes on. 
 
 " ( Was it the gold that ye loved whin ye married 
 Tommy Stubbs ? ' I inquires. 
 
 " ' Mickey,' says she, ' ye will niver die unhappy for 
 not havin' asked too much. But a quistion is a quistion, 
 though out of the mouth of a poor man. Whin I prom 
 ised to be Mrs. Stubbs I knew little excipt that Tommy 
 was big and strong and had a way wid him. What cared 
 I whether he was a philanthropist? His ar-rms were 
 big and his eyes bright whin he saw me. Mickey! 
 Mickey ! Why did I lose him ? ' And she stared out on 
 the wharves wid dry eyes. 
 
 " So I sat and thought of one whose name ye will 
 niver hear and I smelt the smoke of the mor-rnin' fire 
 in a place ye are none of yez worthy to see ; and me toes
 
 MICHAEL O'ROURKE 75 
 
 crept in me boots for lack of the turf under me feet. 
 And whin I had thought I spoke. 
 
 " ' Lelia Toomey,' says I, ' jer husband spint much 
 money to get ye; but, like Ireland, ye wint too cheap 
 and thereby made yersilf unremimbered whin the bar 
 gain was past. 'T is betther for a woman to hold hersilf 
 too dear than to yield too quickly. Make Tommy spind 
 his wealth to keep yez.' 
 
 " ' And ye mean ? ' she asks softly. 
 
 " ' Let us quit this plush packet and stop ashore a 
 while,' I returns bouldly. * Are ye afraid he will not 
 come back after ye ? ' 
 
 " ' Ye mean ? ' she repeats. 
 
 " ' I mean this,' says I : * We will leave this ship im 
 mediate and leave no word. And whin Tommy comes 
 back with Mrs. Diamonds and does not find ye he will 
 think ye have gone ashore to shop. And he will say 
 nothin'. But whin the ship sails, and he finds ye not 
 aboard, what will he do ? ' 
 
 " l God knows, Mickey,' says she. ' I am afraid ! ' 
 
 " ' Are ye afraid of Mrs. Diamonds ? ' I says. 
 
 " And the gur-rl's blood turned to roses in her cheeks 
 and her eyes sparkled. ' I am not,' says she. ' But, 
 Mickey, the ship will carry him to China and he will 
 forget me.' 
 
 " ' Has he remimbered yez ? ' I demanded. 
 
 " ' He is always kind,' she replies, the look of sorrow 
 comin' into her sweet face. 
 
 " ' The rich can afford to be kind,' says me bould 
 Mickey. ' A loving blow is betther than easy wor-rds.'
 
 " ' Would yez have struck her ? ' she asks quickly. 
 
 " ' 'T would have been a great risk/ I says, ' for she 
 was high-spirited.' 
 
 " ' I will go wid ye/ she says. ' But if he does not 
 come back for me I shall niver forgive ye and may 
 God save ye, Mickey O'Rourke ! ' 
 
 " So I wint down and caught a hackdriver be wakin' 
 him up out of a sound sleep and the two of us sneaked 
 down from the ship; and we drove to a hotel where 
 Lelia got a room and said : ' Mickey, sit on the steps 
 and do not let me go back, for I am weak. Whin does 
 the Emperor sail ? ' 
 
 " l She sails at six o'clock/ I tould her. ' Till thin 
 I sit here ; and if ye value yer life ye will not timpt me 
 to strike yez be tryin' to escape to a man that cares 
 nothing for yez.' 
 
 " And I sat on the steps and smoked me pipe till dark. 
 Whin the Emperor was gone I wint inside and sint 
 wor-rd to her room. The flunkey came back super 
 ciliously and waved at me. ' The lady says she niver 
 wants to see yez again/ says he. 
 
 " Thus I knew that I had put a short spoon out to a 
 pot beyond my reach across a hot fire ; and I wint and 
 got me a place to sleep, and sat up the night wonderin' at 
 the ways of philanthropists. 
 
 " 'T was three days later that I saw Lelia Toomey 
 again. She sint for me and whin I saw her I was for 
 tur-rning away, but she called to me softly. I stood 
 before her like a boy wid broken eggs in his little shirt- 
 bosom and the fear of the switch across his shoulders.
 
 'Twas Tommy Stubbs, dirty, forlorn, and desp'rit. 
 
 Page 77
 
 MICHAEL O'ROURKE 77 
 
 1 Mickey/ says she, ' will he think I 'm worth the 
 price ? ' 
 
 " < If he does not ' I began. 
 
 " ' If he does not/ says she, ' nayther you nor he 
 will iver know the truth. And may Hiven save yez, 
 Mickey ! ' 
 
 " Six days passed and once more I stood in front 
 of her. ' Mrs. Diamonds is more lovely and is his 
 equal/ says she. ' I was a fool and I hate yez, Mickey 
 O'Rourke ! ' And wid that she turned her face full of 
 sorrow away from me. 
 
 " I wint out and walked along the beach. I walked 
 into the night and the moon rose; and I remimbered 
 that I was an ould felley, long past love and soft looks. 
 Wirra ! ' Ye are fit for nothing but handling the ma 
 chinery of an ould tub of a light-ship/ I thought. ' And 
 ye have meddled with the wor-rks of a woman's hear-rt.' 
 
 " But me thoughts stood still, for a man wid salt on 
 his beard and trouble in his eyes stuck a heavy fist 
 under me mousers and said : t Mickey O'Rourke, where 
 is me wife ? ' 
 
 " 'T was Tommy Stubbs, dirty, forlorn and desp'rit. 
 I swelled wid joy, but concealed it. ( She loves ye no 
 more/ said I. ' Therefore I advise yez to lave her be. 
 She despises ye.' 
 
 " ' Where is Lelia ? ' he persists, taking hould of me 
 coat. 
 
 " ' She is at the hotel/ I responds. ' She is waiting for 
 a steamer to take her back to Ameriky.' 
 
 " ' What hotel ? ' says he.
 
 78 ACROSS THE LATITUDES 
 
 " What is the need of stirrin' a hot fire ? I tould him, 
 and he turned and wint off, leaving me to look into the 
 eyes of a poor mechanic in jumper and overalls. ' Who 
 are you ? ' I inquires ' Who are you, to be listenin' 
 to the speech of your betthers ? ' 
 
 " f I was an oiler on the Emperor/ says he ; ' but I 
 have been the keeper of an insane man for four days 
 and four nights.' 
 
 " I drew him aside. ' Spit it out ! ' I encourages 
 him. ' Where did yez leave the Emperor? ' 
 
 " ' Five hundred miles at sea,' he tould me. ' That 
 crazy felley lost his wife and made the skipper stop the 
 steamer and give him a gasoline launch and mesilf as 
 engineer; and for four days and four nights have we 
 been traipsin' across the deep watthers back to Honolulu. 
 And now he is gone widout payin' me wages nor givin' 
 me the price of a drink ! ' 
 
 " ' Ye drink on me,' says I. And I dragged him to a 
 cafe and ordered wid insolince and joy. 
 
 " Out of that poor engineer I drew the story of what 
 happened on the ould Emperor; and it was more than 
 sleep to a tired man. Tommy had missed his wife and 
 discovered only after dinner where she had gone, whin 
 the steamer was out of sight of land. 'T was his money 
 and his reputation as a philanthropist that kept him 
 from being put in irons as a crazy man. In the end he 
 bought the big gasoline launch from the skipper and 
 hired the fool of an oiler as crew and set back to 
 Honolulu. 
 
 " Whin the man was full I gave him a dollar and wint
 
 MICHAEL O'ROURKE 79 
 
 to the hotel and asked for Mrs. Stubbs. The flunkey 
 returned wid Tommy at his heels. He stared at me 
 haughtily. ' Me wife does n't care to see you again, 
 Misther O'Kourke,' says he. ' And I '11 thank ye to 
 keep out of me way hereafter. What did you mean by 
 informin' Mrs. Stubbs that I tould yez I cared little 
 for her ? Ye are a liar ! ' 
 
 " So I came away, knowin' that if he hit me 't would 
 be from a full hear-rt and I niver yet let a happy 
 man hit me; for I am ould and me fighting days are 
 past wid all the rest of it ! "
 
 THE UNWILLING WAR 
 CORRESPONDENT 
 
 THEEE was no dinner at Mrs. Hopkins's boarding house. 
 While the landlady made profuse apologies, we felt that 
 it was hardly any fault of hers. Hito, the Japanese 
 cook, had departed suddenly, after the manner of his 
 race, and there was none to take his office in the kitchen. 
 We condoled with Mrs. Hopkins, swallowed the cold 
 victuals she offered us on damp plates, and gathered 
 on the porch to discuss the eternal question of the 
 Yellow. 
 
 There did n't seem to be much to say that was novel. 
 We were aggrieved, and said so, blaming the whole 
 Japanese nation for the delinquency of Hito. From 
 personal wrongs we gradually shunted to the main 
 track of universal problems, and restated with emphasis 
 what a great many politicians had voiced as the Public 
 Demand of California. We ended with fervent re 
 grets that Russia had not wiped Japan off the map of 
 the world. 
 
 This was Jefferson's opening. He had been the San 
 Francisco " Times " correspondent in the Far East, 
 and we listened to the hundredth repetition of his ad 
 ventures, hardships, and successes the last barely 
 recognized by a jealous fraternity.
 
 WAR CORRESPONDENT 81 
 
 When Jefferson came to a full stop, two hours later, 
 we prepared to go to our rooms. The school-teacher 
 caused us delay by remarking, in his mild manner, that 
 he envied Jefferson his opportunities for a full and 
 vivid conception of the Spirit of Japan. " I was by 
 way of being a war correspondent myself," he ventured 
 gently. 
 
 The school-teacher had never, so far as we knew 
 from his conversation, been outside of the very mildest 
 parts of the United States. If you had asked one of 
 us whether Mr. Parsons had ever had an adventure, 
 we would have stared and remarked that he was de 
 voted to his work in the school. On the other hand, 
 he was not a voluntary joker. True, he frequently 
 raised a laugh; but it was usually at himself, and not 
 because he placed anybody else in a humorous light. 
 So we stopped in our general movement toward bed 
 rooms and listened to this somewhat extraordinary an 
 nouncement. Jefferson led out with a question: 
 
 "So? When was that?" 
 
 " During the Japanese and Russian War," Mr. Par 
 sons said. 
 
 " I did n't know you were in journalism," said Jeffer 
 son. " Usually I know one of the brotherhood at 
 sight." 
 
 Mr. Parsons's manner was apologetic. " I was n't 
 what you might call a journalist," he said. " It was 
 only to oblige a friend. I was, in fact, an unwilling 
 war correspondent." 
 
 Jefferson, who had got up, sat down again. " That 's
 
 82 ACROSS THE LATITUDES 
 
 rather interesting," he said kindly. " I never heard 
 of an unwilling war correspondent. Indeed, the anxiety 
 of good newspaper men to go to the front was such that 
 only the very best stood any show." 
 
 The school-teacher seemed uncomfortable. " I don't 
 pretend to have done anything in the regular way at 
 all," he explained. " As I said, my attempting to act 
 as war correspondent for the ' American Scientist ' was 
 purely to oblige a friend. I was quite unwilling, I 
 assure you. You see," he went on confidentially, " my 
 line was flour, macaroni flour." 
 
 Jefferson nodded, and his comical glance assembled us 
 around the school-teacher. " Let 's hear about the un 
 willing war correspondent whose real line was macaroni 
 flour," he said genially. 
 
 Mr. Parsons did n't smile. Instead, he flushed pain 
 fully, as he sometimes did when we laughed too broadly 
 at his little ways. " I know it sounds ridiculous to 
 you," he said humbly; " but I saw the Battle of Mori- 
 yoshi. That is, I was under it." 
 
 Jefferson flushed himself. " I never heard of that 
 battle," he said curtly. " I presume it escaped all of 
 us! I should enjoy being enlightened." 
 
 We all insisted, partly because we thought Jeffer 
 son's manner uncalled for; partly because we were 
 really curious. The school-teacher seemed put out, but 
 manfully stuck to his guns. " Of course you never 
 heard of it," he said briefly. " I never wrote a piece 
 about it. If you had heard of it I should never have 
 ventured to mention it. I have already said that I was
 
 WAR CORRESPONDENT 83 
 
 unwilling at the time, and I certainly claim no honor 
 for myself in having yielded to the importunity of a 
 friend, Lieutenant Pettifer, J. P. N." 
 
 " May I inquire what l J. P. N.' stands for ? " in 
 quired Jefferson icily. 
 
 " Japanese Navy, I believe," answered the school 
 teacher. " At least, that was the only impression I got 
 while in China." 
 
 " Very likely," Jefferson assented, regaining his good 
 humor. " Don't let me interrupt." 
 
 Mr. Parsons withdrew his slight form into his chair 
 and appeared to favor the dusk which the light of the 
 setting sun shot with dim fire. 
 
 My line was macaroni flour (he resumed). I studied 
 chemistry at college and found a chance to go into the 
 office of a wheat and flour broker in San Francisco who 
 had a large export business. You may not know that 
 macaroni, or Italian paste, is made from a flour pecul 
 iarly rich in gluten. The production of this wheat 
 depends for success upon many elements of soil and 
 cultivation. It had become a very valuable product, and 
 my employer devoted a large portion of his time and 
 capital to the business of exploiting this article of com 
 merce. When he found that there was a fine market for 
 it in the Orient, he decided that it would pay to discover 
 whether a flour rich in gluten and with the other pe 
 culiar properties which make Italian wheat so valued 
 might not be manufactured in China and Japan out of 
 wheat grown there. He commissioned me to go to the
 
 84 ACROSS THE LATITUDES 
 
 Orient and make investigations and experiments with a 
 view to introducing this new industry. 
 
 I left San Francisco and spent several months going 
 over the arable districts of Japan before the war broke 
 out. At the time of the declaration of hostilities I was 
 in Hakodate, preparing for an exploratory expedition 
 into Yezzo. Naturally, I found myself in a very em 
 barrassing position. The Straits of Sangar, upon which 
 Hakodate lies, are on the route direct to Vladivostock, 
 and it was from the former point that the offensive 
 preparations of the Japanese were largely made, as 
 Mr. Jefferson can explain to you better than I. 
 
 Being a foreigner, though on a peaceful mission, it 
 was explained to me with all politeness that I had better 
 stay in Hakodate. My going into the interior would 
 be misunderstood. In fact, the authorities could not 
 allow it. Moreover, my explorations of the island of 
 Nippon and its agricultural resources, it was felt, might 
 easily be made use of by the enemy. To make the 
 matter short, I was forbidden to leave Hakodate. 
 
 At first I devoted my energies to convincing the 
 officials that I was not belligerent, and that my mission, 
 being one of peace and for the advancement of the in 
 dustrial interests of Japan, should not be considered in 
 any way inimical to the government. But Count Hy- 
 ashi, to whom I finally appealed, stated that as I knew 
 the exact statistics of the crops and soil of Japan, my 
 knowledge was too valuable to the Japanese Government 
 to be overlooked. He begged me, in their time of stress, 
 to devote my talent and experience to Japan. In fact,
 
 WAR CORRESPONDENT 85 
 
 he offered me a flattering position in the Imperial 
 Bakery. Upon communication (through the war office) 
 with my employer, I obtained permission to accept this 
 offer. For the next six months I was very busy making 
 a full test of the nutritive values of the various flours 
 used in the baking of the supplies for the forces in 
 the field, and had the honor of introducing a bread far 
 superior to any then in use, and one which, on account 
 of the non-variance in constituents, would keep indefi 
 nitely without loss of essential nourishing value. 
 
 The satisfaction of the Government with my efforts 
 caused the officials to transfer me to Mororan, across 
 the Straits, where a large force of men was engaged 
 in baking several millions of rations for the fleet. Here 
 I had a school of instruction in bread chemistry, and I 
 may say that it was due to the quick apprehension of 
 my pupils that the rations issued from that depot were 
 acknowledged to be the best ever provided. 
 
 To pass over these small services I shall go on to the 
 circumstances that led directly to my accepting the 
 position of war correspondent and my consequent pres 
 ence at the Battle of Moriyoshi. 
 
 On account of the vast quantities of coal available 
 at Mororan, that port was used as a point of departure 
 for many vessels of the Northern Fleet. It was also used 
 as a place for such refitting as could be done without 
 the use of a dry dock. And when eighteen submarines 
 ordered from an American firm were delivered, they 
 were delivered at Mororan. 
 
 I have heard it said, by those who know, that sub-
 
 86 ACROSS THE LATITUDES 
 
 marines were not well known by the Japanese. How 
 ever that may be, the firm that made those unloaded at 
 Mororan sent with them a force of American workmen 
 and experts to put them in order and to instruct the 
 Japanese in their use and management. Among these 
 Americans I found an old college mate, Pettif er, who was 
 in the same class in field chemistry with me in college. 
 
 Of course I was glad to see Pettifer. We immedi 
 ately got permission to lodge together. 
 
 I soon ascertained that the submarines were not, so 
 to speak, a finished product. Pettifer explained to me 
 that there were many chemical and scientific calcula 
 tions in their construction and equipment that were by 
 no means of settled expediency. He himself felt that 
 their use in warfare was problematic, as yet; in his 
 position as one of the experts in charge of them he 
 would not answer for their behavior. 
 
 Having the common interest of chemistry, I devoted 
 what time I could spare from my bakery laboratory to 
 going over with Pettifer all the chemical formulas and 
 processes employed in the production of power, con 
 servation of oxygen, and so forth. Probably I weary 
 you. I will pass on to say that six weeks after the 
 arrival of the submarines the announcement was made 
 to the Japanese Government that they were ready for 
 service. There followed the further announcement that, 
 in order to fulfill the contract with the Japanese, all 
 the experts sent over by the constructing company were 
 to remain in the employ of the Government as instructors 
 in the use of submarines. I remember my roommate
 
 WAR CORRESPONDENT 87 
 
 coming to me with a very large sheet of paper inscribed 
 with many Japanese characters. He said it had been 
 handed to him by the depot commandant. 
 
 " Here is a commission as lieutenant in their old 
 navy," Pettifer said. " Think of Willie, Lieutenant 
 Willie Pettifer, J. P. ET. ! " 
 
 " What does it mean ? " I asked him. 
 
 " It means fighting," he said gravely. " To tell the 
 truth, Parsons," he went on, " this submarine work is 
 still an experiment. Does anybody know whether No. 6 
 (that was his boat) will behave according to specifica 
 tions in service ? I don't The Japs don't. I 'm blessed 
 if I know anybody who does know. So the Government 
 quietly makes the company put us fellows in to run 
 them. And that keeps anybody from running around 
 and telling the world that Japan has submarines. Oh, 
 the Japanese are smart all right! But I say, Parsons, 
 is n't this a nice job for little Willie Pettifer, to be 
 put in charge of a boat like No. 6? Just think if we 
 were trying to blow up a big Russian battle ship and a 
 dollop of water should short-circuit the spark-coil ! " 
 
 " What would happen ? " I inquired. 
 
 " Either the torpedo would explode in the tube, or 
 else it would miss its object by six degrees. I 've 
 figured it all out, you see. Take your choice. Or if 
 we were using the gasoline engines, and one of the spark- 
 coils short-circuited, we 'd turn around before we could 
 switch in another. That comes of having twin screws 
 with separate engines." 
 
 " Two engines make it safer," I remonstrated.
 
 88 ACROSS THE LATITUDES 
 
 Pettifer was much put out by this argument. " That 's 
 not the question. It 's a question of efficiency. We 've 
 got eighteen submarines here. If every submarine an 
 swers for one Russian war ship and goes to the bottom 
 itself, the Japanese Government will think them a 
 success. But it won't be satisfied if six months from 
 now the Russians still have their battle ships and we 
 still have the submarines." 
 
 I quote this remark to show that Pettifer was a thor 
 ough workman and wrapped up in his profession. 
 
 Nothing happened the next week and Willie put in 
 his time polishing up No. 6 and training his Japanese 
 crew. When I asked him how the Japanese took hold 
 he replied, " All right. Only they 're not scientific by 
 instinct, the lower class. They 're impatient. My best 
 man came to me this morning and wanted to know if 
 it would n't be cheaper all around to simply run No. 6 
 alongside the enemy, open the gasoline tanks and the 
 oxygen tanks and then spark the whole business to king 
 dom come. It took me two hours to prove to him that 
 a perfect mixture of gasoline and oxygen would n't exert 
 enough force to dent the plates of a battle ship, not 
 counting the fact that the experiment would cost the 
 Government a good submarine and the services of trained 
 men. I don't thing the man sees it yet. I believe he 
 has it in his head that I 'm a coward and afraid." 
 
 " Are you afraid ? " I demanded. 
 
 Willie Pettifer always was an honest chap. " You 
 bet I 'm afraid," he said. " I 've just come from the 
 admiral's, and I told him I would n't stand for any
 
 WAR CORRESPONDENT 89 
 
 such unscientific nonsense. I '11 have discipline or run 
 my submarine myself, I told him. I don't want any 
 banzai patriot blowing me and my machinery up just 
 to make a holiday. A 'marine is a scientific instrument 
 and not a plaything for banzais to fool with. Either 
 I blow up properly and in good order or I don't blow up 
 at all." 
 
 " What did the admiral say ? " I asked. 
 
 Willie laughed. " He did n't say anything. But he 
 took my man and put him to work in the coal sheds. 
 I guess the admiral is n't going to have any fireworks not 
 scheduled by himself." 
 
 The next morning Willie came round to my office, 
 hustled a couple of students outside, shut the door, and 
 flourished an order in my face. " See that ! " he de 
 manded. " That 's an order for fifty gallons of gasoline 
 and five gallons of cylinder oil. I 'm to take the 'marine 
 to sea at five o'clock this afternoon and run out of the 
 Straits eastwardly one hundred miles, submerged. Now 
 that sounds like plain English, does n't it ? But it 's 
 the imported article. Those few words mean that I 'm 
 to sink No. 6 in her slip, periscope my way out of the 
 harbor and down the Straits and out to sea one hundred 
 miles." 
 
 " It sounds like it," I agreed. " What then ? " 
 
 Willie nearly pulled his mustache out by the roots. 
 " That 's it," he growled. " That 's the Japanese of it. 
 Now, the admiral and everybody else that knows any 
 thing at all about these submarines knows that their 
 radius of action submerged is exactly one hundred and
 
 90 ACROSS THE LATITUDES 
 
 ten miles. In other words, when No. 6 has gone her 
 one hundred miles and comes to the stop, she 's got just 
 ten more miles to go submerged, or twenty miles on the 
 surface. Will Lieutenant Willie Pettifer, J. P. N., 
 kindly go to the top story of a twenty-story building 
 and step off ? That 's the gist, sum, and substance of 
 that order." 
 
 " Are you going ? " I demanded. 
 
 " Of course I 'm going," he said crossly. " I want 
 you to go along." 
 
 " That 's really kind of you," was my reply. " But 
 I 'm busy. I '11 go with you some other day." 
 
 " I don't mean it the way it sounds," Willie protested. 
 " The admiralty has got some scheme up, probably a 
 big battle. I figure that when we run out there and 
 come to the top we '11 find a Japanese fleet busily en 
 gaged in taking off a Russian fleet. Maybe we '11 have 
 something to do. Anyway, we '11 be brought home. 
 Don't you want to see a battle ? Besides I '11 be the 
 only white man on No. 6 and I want company." 
 
 " I could n't get leave, even if I wanted to go," I 
 said warmly. " I 'd do a great deal to oblige you, 
 Willie, but I can't go." 
 
 " If I get you a pass, will you go ? " Willie insisted. 
 
 Now there really was no reason why I should n't go. 
 Besides, he explained to me that I could help him in 
 keeping track of the various apparatus used in main 
 taining respirable air, even temperature and so forth. 
 And I felt sure he would never get the pass. 
 
 That was where I mistook Willie. He came back at
 
 noon with a slip of paper signed by the admiral himself. 
 " There 's your leave," he announced. " You are to go 
 as correspondent of the ' American Scientist.' 
 
 " But the ' American Scientist ' does n't know me 
 from Adam," I said. " And I 'm no war correspondent. 
 Besides, they 're not giving correspondents any privi 
 leges these times. Look at that crowd down the coast 
 sitting on the club veranda with their caps over their 
 eyes." 
 
 " The ' American Scientist ' will be glad to get an 
 account of the action of a submarine on service, written 
 by a chemist," Willie insisted. " And when the admiral 
 comes down off his high horse and does a favor for 
 Lieutenant Pettifer, J. P. N., I want you to under 
 stand that it 's not your place to make objections. If 
 you will read that piece, of paper you will find that 
 you are under my orders." 
 
 There was nothing for me to do but take off my 
 apron and go with him. I was really glad to go, too. 
 It was a change from flour-testing and baking. 
 
 Willie made me take my pipe and tobacco out of 
 my pocket and went through me to see if I had any 
 matches on me. Then he gave me a cigar. " Smoke 
 that while you can," he said. " We can't smoke in 
 the 'marine." 
 
 I sat down on a pile of coal in the depot, while 
 Willie went on an errand, and smoked till an officer 
 coming by took the cigar from me and carefully ex 
 tinguished it in a bucket of water. He told me smoking 
 was not allowed and I had to show him my pass from
 
 92 ACROSS THE LATITUDES 
 
 the admiral to keep from going to the guard house. 
 Then Willie came by, riding on a coal car, jumped off, 
 took me by the arm, and hurried me off down to the 
 slips. 
 
 No. 6 lay under a shed, the farthest in the long row 
 of submarines. She looked unusually damp and dirty. 
 Willie said he had been giving her a coat of grease. 
 We went down through the little hatch in the top of 
 the steering tower and Willie soon had his three men 
 busy over the electric motors which ran the 'marine 
 when submerged. Then he turned over the gasoline 
 engines which were used on the surface. 
 
 " I 've had her in apple-pie order for ten days," he 
 said. " The batteries are up to their capacity and I 
 can't think of anything else we ought to do. I wish 
 we could carry more gasoline. But we can't. I guess 
 we '11 start. It 's ten minutes to five now." 
 
 I went out on deck with him while some of the 
 dockyard hands eased off the moorings. No. 6 swung 
 into the middle of her slip and Willie nodded to me. 
 " Below with you, Parsons," he said quietly. " We 're 
 going to submerge in the slip." 
 
 Just then the admiral strolled up. Willie saluted. 
 The admiral looked at his watch, but said nothing. 
 A pump started clanking in the hull and No. 6 sank 
 slowly till the water was within two feet of the hatch. 
 The admiral snapped his watch case and leaned over 
 toward Willie. He handed him a slip of paper. " Steer 
 that course," he said briefly. 
 
 Willie waved his hand and shoved me down the
 
 WAR CORRESPONDENT 93 
 
 ladder. Then the hatch fell into place and I could 
 hear him breathe as he twisted the lock down tight. 
 The electric lights came on and the pump increased its 
 speed. Willie kept his eye to the periscope tube and 
 suddenly the pump stopped and the motors began. 
 
 I could feel the hull start forward. I went off my 
 feet at a sudden upward sway, much like the rise of a 
 horse at a fence. One of the Japs picked me up, and 
 smiled. Then Willie motioned for me to join him in the 
 little steering tower a steel cylinder about four feet 
 in diameter, projecting about four feet above the upper 
 shell of the vessel. " That was a shallow place," he said. 
 
 " I 'm glad it was n't a rock," I murmured, and 
 Willie said he was glad, too. 
 
 " One has to trust to a clear channel," he said. " But 
 we '11 soon be out in the Straits, and then we '11 be all 
 right." 
 
 I can't tell just how many times there was that sick 
 ening upward motion of No. 6. Each time I could 
 hear the gentle swash of the water in the teakettle 
 that sat on a little electric plate just below me, on a 
 shelf. Then, in half an hour, the submarine settled 
 down to a steady, slightly rolling gait. When she did 
 that Willie told me to look into the periscope tube. I 
 did so and discovered that we were going along with 
 a bright light visible far away on the left-hand side. 
 "That's a lighthouse," Willie said. "We're sub 
 merged five feet. See anything else ? " 
 
 I examined the miniature horizon carefully, but could 
 distinguish nothing.
 
 94 ACROSS THE LATITUDES 
 
 Willie looked again and nodded. " Over there on 
 the starboard bow. Still there. The admiral 's pretty 
 clever, is n't he ? " 
 
 " What 's over there ? " I inquired. 
 
 "A torpedo boat destroyer," Willie answered. " She 's 
 burning no lights, but I can see the glint of water along 
 her sides. That boat, Jap though she be, is n't as 
 clever as little Willie Pettifer, lieutenant, J. P. N. 
 I can see her, but she can't see me. I greased my 
 vessel, and there is n't any glint of water about No. 6. 
 You could be right over her and not see a thing." 
 Willie laughed. " She 's coming cross channel to see 
 if she can't pick us up. The admiral is smart, is n't he ? 
 He wants us to get away without anybody knowing 
 we 're gone, and then sends a destroyer out to look for 
 a Russian submarine. Suspicious people, are n't they, 
 Parsons ? " 
 
 I agreed with him, but regretted that the destroyer 
 was so close. " She might run onto us," I said. " Then 
 what would we do ? " 
 
 Willie grinned across the steering tower at me. " The 
 admiral fixed that," he chuckled. " That destroyer has 
 orders to destroy a Russian submarine that is reported 
 to be hovering around. Upon consulting the paper the 
 admiral handed me in the slip, I perceive that I am 
 to use ' war measures in case of meeting an enemy or 
 suspicious craft.' Consequently, if that destroyer gets 
 too close, we '11 just blow her up. The admiral will 
 understand." 
 
 " But she 's not an enemy," I protested.
 
 " How am I to know that ? " Willie remarked. " I 'in 
 taking no chances, Parsons. I 'm Lieutenant Pettifer, 
 J. P. N., and No. 6 is going to do what she was told 
 to do, if ten Japanese destroyers go to the bottom. I 
 don't intend her to run and tell the admiral she saw us. 
 You understand ? We 're running submerged. Nobody 
 sees us. Do you understand ? NOBODY sees us I " 
 
 I confess that this remark afforded me a new view 
 of Willie's character, and I reflected upon my foolishness 
 in yielding to his importunity and going with him on 
 so desperate an expedition. Such meditation was not 
 pleasant, especially as there recurred to my mind Wil 
 lie's statement about the helplessness of No. 6 when she 
 should finally rise to the surface one hundred miles 
 at sea. 
 
 My thoughts were interrupted by Willie calling down 
 for the mate to come and take the wheel. The Jap 
 elbowed himself up the steps, repeated the course he was 
 to steer, and, as Willie and I started down the ladder, 
 put his eye to the periscope tube. We climbed down 
 through the curtain which kept the tower in comparative 
 darkness and into the lighted hull. 
 
 The other two of the crew were busily engaged watch 
 ing the flying motors, one with an oil can in one hand, 
 the other with his hand on the switchboard. Willie 
 paid no attention to either of them, but carefully went 
 over the entire interior, from bow to stern. When he 
 came back and sat down beside me on the grating, his 
 face was placid. " She 's tight as a bottle," he said 
 quietly. " And the machinery is working first class.
 
 96 ACROSS THE LATITUDES 
 
 Of course, we 're using practically none of the oxygen 
 as yet, as I 'm taking air in through an elevated pipe 
 forward. But I guess it 's up to me to get rid of that 
 destroyer now. She 's fast, three times as fast as we 
 are, and if she once catches sight of us and we don't 
 know it, she can put us out of business in three minutes. 
 There! Kujiro's seen her." 
 
 The mate was whistling gently, and Willie disap 
 peared into the tower. An instant later the two men 
 below answered an electric buzzer by starting a pump. 
 No. 6 settled quickly. There was a snap of valves and 
 the click of starting fans. Then the pump stopped and 
 Willie came down the steps. " We 're thirty feet down," 
 he said. " I guess Mr. Destroyer won't find us now. 
 He was n't half a mile ahead. Maybe we '11 pass under 
 him." 
 
 The hours passed slowly, but not unpleasantly. Apart 
 from the gentle sway from side to side one would have 
 supposed the vessel to be at rest on the bottom. Willie 
 kept going and coming while the mate stayed at the 
 wheel. At midnight he wrote up the log and figured 
 our position. That done, he handed me the slate. 
 " We 've made fifty-three miles since we left the 
 slip," he said. " That leaves us forty-seven to go. 
 We 're just sixteen miles off shore. I wonder if that 
 destroyer is still around ? We '11 sneak up at two 
 o'clock and see." 
 
 At a quarter of two Willie called the mate down and 
 went to the wheel himself. A little later he summoned 
 me and I joined him in the cramped tower. " I 'm
 
 WAR CORRESPONDENT 97 
 
 going to make a little dash up," he explained. " I 
 can't waste time in pumping out and rising in dead 
 water. We '11 just make a little jump hurdle wise. Now 
 keep on your feet and, whatever happens, don't say a 
 word." 
 
 He pressed the electric indicator, pulled a lever with 
 a jerk, and No. 6 stuck her nose up at an angle of forty 
 degrees. There was a roar of water overhead, the 
 port glass foamed before my eyes and Willie jerked out 
 an oath, putting the steering wheel gently over. No. 6 
 slid from under my feet, dropped her nose, and the 
 roar of the water died away. Almost instantly the 
 pump clanked below. Willie leaned over, clipping the 
 words with his teeth. " We nearly hit her. She saw 
 us. Now see the fun! " 
 
 The machinery sang a new tune and I realized that 
 the motors were slowed down and that we were rising 
 from our second plunge. Willie watched the submer 
 gence dial and when it crept up to ten feet put his eye 
 to the periscope tube. We turned slowly, as I could 
 perceive by our altered motion. Suddenly he reached 
 over and pulled another lever. The machinery started 
 up full speed; there was a long shrill whistle of air 
 through the hull, and the submarine's bow leaped up. 
 
 " Torpedo gone," Willie muttered. " Hope it does 
 the work. Now look ! " 
 
 The machinery stopped and Willie glued his eye to 
 the periscope tube. I saw the thick glass opposite my 
 eyes suddenly clear and a red flash appear No. 6 
 shook horribly and rose and fell so that I could barely
 
 98 ACROSS THE LATITUDES 
 
 maintain my hold. I was aware of the hot breath of 
 the mate on my cheek. Then a huge wave overwhelmed 
 us and Willie laughed. 
 
 A moment later No. 6 floated in the long swells on 
 the surface and we were breathing the night air through 
 the open hatch. A hundred rods away I saw a torn 
 pillar, slashed with red, heave out of the sea and slowly 
 sink, endwise. Kujiro, leaning over my shoulder, 
 breathed through his teeth. " Japanese ! " he hissed, 
 clutching my arm cruelly. 
 
 Willie turned his eyes on the mate with a look I 
 had not imagined possible on his face. " Japanese," he 
 assented icily. " Go below and start the motors." 
 
 The mate did not stir. His black eyes fixed on 
 Willie and his lips drew back over his teeth. 
 
 " Go below ! " Willie ordered again. 
 
 Kujiro snorted and let out a wild cry. I remember 
 a flash in my eyes and came to myself to find the mate 
 a dead weight in my arms In fact, he was dead. 
 Willie put his revolver back in his pocket and called 
 down the steps. One of the crew answered and Willie 
 motioned to him to relieve me of Kujiro's body. "Throw 
 it overboard," he commanded. 
 
 The man obeyed, very carefully. The body slipped 
 off the grating we stood on, dragged a moment on the 
 sloping curve of the deck, and then slid down into the 
 water as a swell rolled us heavily in its trough. 
 
 Then I remembered the destroyer and looked about 
 to see her. The sea was vacant except for a field of 
 white 'way to starboard of us.
 
 WAR CORRESPONDENT 99 
 
 When we were once more in the steering tower, and 
 the motors were going again, and the submergence dial 
 showed twelve feet, Willie leaned over to say, " Those 
 patriots don't understand modern warfare. But the 
 admiral, he understands. He 's scientific. Make a note 
 of that, Parsons. You 're seeing genuine scientific of 
 fensive operations this time. I just begin to see it 
 myself." 
 
 The night settled down, it seemed to me, into 
 quietness. No. 6 hummed on her way through 
 the water with satisfying steadiness. But some 
 how 'I could not lose sight of a big field of white 
 foam heaving in the darkness where a moment before 
 a steel pillar, slashed with red, had disappeared into 
 the depths. 
 
 At four o'clock Willie called one of the crew to take 
 the wheel, and entered his figurings upon the log slate. 
 " We 're seventy miles on our way," he remarked. 
 " Thirty to go." Then he carefully wrote at the bottom 
 of the slate these two items: 
 
 At 2 A.M. we torpedoed an unknown destroyer which attacked 
 us. She sank at 2:06 A.M., bow first. 
 
 Kujiro, first-class gunner, mutinied and was shot by myself 
 at 2:09 A.M. His body was thrown into the sea by my order. 
 W. PETTIFER, Lieutenant, J.P.N. 
 
 Daylight appeared in the periscope tube. Neither 
 of us could distinguish anything on the gray horizon. 
 But, as Willie remarked, the elevation of the periscope 
 was so slight that we could not see more than a couple
 
 100 ACROSS THE LATITUDES 
 
 of miles in any direction. " We still have twenty miles 
 to go," he said briefly. " Now, here 's where we drop 
 clean out of sight." 
 
 We apparently lost speed by this last submergence, 
 and the motors hummed heavily, as if they were working 
 against an overload. Willie examined them frequently, 
 leaving me to steer by the compass. Each time he in 
 structed me under no circumstances to touch any of 
 the levers that lined the little tower. As we drew to 
 the close of our journey he seemed disturbed, and I saw 
 him repeatedly look into the huge battery tanks, as if 
 to see how they stood the drain on their stored 
 power. 
 
 " It 's a tight pinch," he remarked, as the clock 
 tinkled nine. " We shall make it to the dot. And we 've 
 kept our course like a liner, too, unless my calculations 
 are at fault. But " 
 
 His pause was so suggestive that I repeated his " but " 
 questioningly. 
 
 " We shan't have power enough to maneuver fifteen 
 minutes when we arrive," he said curtly. 
 
 " How about the gasoline engines ? " I demanded. 
 
 " All right on the surface," he answered, " but I 
 dare n't run awash with them going. And to submerge 
 and rise again we must have electricity. I tell you, 
 Parsons, that 's where these boats are still in the experi 
 mental stage. Here we are going to bob up out in the 
 Pacific, probably in a heavy sea, inside a thin shell, with 
 not enough power to get back into sight of land even if 
 we run our engines. And I see the batteries are
 
 WAR CORRESPONDENT 101 
 
 damaged. I '11 have to use the engines to re-charge them. 
 Otherwise we '11 be helpless indeed and in a pretty bad 
 fix." 
 
 I had learned, enough about submarines during my 
 sojourn with Willie in Mororan to know that they de 
 pended for every movement, for their very balance in 
 the water, upon nicely adjusted electrical machinery. 
 I could perfectly understand that, without power of 
 that kind, we would indeed be helpless. 
 
 " What are your orders when you arrive at this spot 
 in the ocean ? " I demanded. 
 
 Willie seemed to regain his spirits instantly. He 
 chuckled. " The admiral is a wonder ! " he ejaculated. 
 " There are no orders ! " 
 
 " No orders ! " I repeated. " How are we to get 
 back?" 
 
 He tugged at his mustache. " How do I know ? 
 How do I know whether we are to get back at all? 
 How do I know what the admiral has in mind ? One 
 thing, Parsons just remember, we are part of a scien 
 tific calculation." 
 
 " I 'd like to see the solution," I remarked, much 
 nettled at the situation in which I found myself. 
 
 Willie paid no attention to me. " There are a good 
 many factors in this problem of the admiral's," he went 
 on musingly. " There 's this 'marine and all the cal 
 culations behind it ; there 's me and those two human 
 beings below in the hull; there was Kujiro; the de 
 stroyer ; and then, my dear Parsons, there 's you, the 
 war correspondent of the ' American Scientist.' Oh,
 
 102 ACROSS THE LATITUDES 
 
 the admiral 's a great man ! " he concluded warmly. 
 Then he said, " Here we are ! " 
 
 The motors hummed into silence, and the pump 
 slowly began to work. We listened to it, and Willie 
 kept his eyes fastened on the indicator that marked the 
 progress of emptying the ballast tanks. Presently he 
 shook his head. " We can't make it under this pres 
 sure," he said crossly. " There is n't as much power 
 left as I thought. The batteries have gone to pieces. 
 We have n't risen an inch. I told O'Brien when he 
 braced that for'ard tank that the skin was not strong 
 enough. It 's giving in, Parson's. Now I hope it holds 
 against the pressure for another five minutes. We '11 
 see!" 
 
 It was not comforting to realize that the great pres 
 sure of the water at the depth at which we were was 
 crushing in the steel hull as fast as the water in the 
 tanks was withdrawn. Far less comforting to follow 
 Willie's steady finger and see by the submergence dial 
 that we were, in fact, sinking. He called down into 
 the engine room. 
 
 The motors started again, and No. 6 quivered slightly 
 as she gathered way under their slow impulse. Willie 
 watched his indicators an instant after the swaying 
 motion of the vessel steadied. Then he jerked a lever 
 toward him. No. 6 threw her prow upward as the 
 horizontal rudders caught her. She surged slowly 
 toward the surface. I heard the pumps gather speed. 
 Willie chuckled. " That fetched her," he said. " Now 
 let 's see where we are."
 
 WAR CORRESPONDENT 103 
 
 No. 6 came to rest with her hull just awash, as I 
 perceived by the foam appearing and reappearing over 
 the port glasses. Willie was staring into the periscope 
 tube. He straightened up and smiled. " I guess we '11 
 just pump out some more and go topside and have a 
 smoke," he said. 
 
 When No. 6 rolled easily in the swell, and when we 
 were indeed afloat, we unscrewed the little hatch and 
 climbed out and down on the slippery deck. I was 
 surprised to find how fresh the air was. 
 
 " We 've been using tank oxygen for several hours," 
 Willie explained. " But I was sparing of it. Have a 
 cigar and look round." 
 
 I took the cigar he offered me and was soon enjoying 
 it. Willie, with another one between his teeth, climbed 
 forward to the bowl-shaped bow and knelt there, run 
 ning his fingers along the seams where the steel 
 plates were riveted together. He came back shaking 
 his head. " That upper tank is in bad shape," he 
 said briefly. " I 'd hate to have to submerge again 
 with our weak power. I 'm afraid that tank will 
 collapse." 
 
 I had nothing to say to reassure him, and he soon 
 had an extensible mast brought up and stepped in the 
 deck. When it was stayed lightly he took his binocu 
 lars and climbed up to get a view all around the hori 
 zon. While he was so engaged I put my cigar aside and 
 ate a plate of rice and drank some tea which one of the 
 crew handed up to me. 
 
 Willie came down, had something to eat himself, went
 
 104 ACROSS THE LATITUDES 
 
 below, and spent an hour going over his machinery. He 
 came on deck, ascended the mast, came down immedi 
 ately, and said grimly, " I thought so." 
 
 " Thought what ? " I demanded. 
 
 " That I 'd have to start those gasoline engines and 
 recharge my batteries instead of using the gasoline to 
 turn the propellers," he responded enigmatically. 
 
 In a quarter of an hour I heard the cough of the en 
 gines and the whir of a dynamo. I went below and 
 found Willie covered with oil and grime. " Next sub 
 marine I build," he said crossly, " I '11 not scamp 
 machinery. I '11 have a separate engine to run the 
 dynamo. No sense in having to uncouple the main 
 engines from the shafts this way. It makes the boat 
 helpless for the time being." 
 
 This discovery bothered him for the next hour. Then 
 he went on deck again and held some conversation with 
 the man he had put on watch there. He called to me. 
 When I reached his side he pointed far to the south. 
 A plume of dark smoke lay on the sea's edge. 
 " That 's not a Jap," said Willie. " That 's a Euss, 
 burning compressed coal. And compressed coal means 
 a war ship. And a Russian war ship in these waters 
 means " 
 
 " Means what ? " I asked. 
 
 Willie winked at me solemnly. " It means that the 
 admiral was most tremendously smart." 
 
 I failed to see the point, and said so. Willie was very 
 patient and explained. " The admiral hears that there 
 are Russian war ships coming in from the eastward, in-
 
 WAR CORRESPONDENT 105 
 
 tending to ship through La Perouse Straits and across 
 to Vladivostock. Now, the admiral does n't go and dis 
 play his knowledge all over the town. He comes to his 
 office and sends for me. ' I '11 just have Lieutenant 
 Pettifer, J. P. N., quietly take No. 6 and leave Moro- 
 ran. Not even the ships in the harbor will know he 's 
 gone, for he 's going submerged. And I '11 just send 
 Lieutenant Pettifer out where the Honorable Russian 
 will pass by. Lieutenant Pettifer can't come back. He 
 can't, unless he gets gasoline from Gabriel. We '11 just 
 see what Lieutenant Pettifer will do under those cir 
 cumstances.' That," said Willie, " is what the old sci 
 entist said to himself." 
 
 " Will you please tell me, Willie," I interrupted, 
 " why the admiral let me go along with you ? " 
 
 He grinned. " You were sent, my boy. The admiral 
 did n't want anybody to know No. 6 was gone to sea 
 instead of being merely submerged in her slip. So he 
 told me to get you to go along. He said you could go as 
 a war correspondent. In fact, I guess you are an un 
 willing war correspondent." 
 
 I agreed with Willie as to this, but reminded him that 
 in reality I had only yielded to his importunity as a 
 friend. " I 'd never have come, except for that," I 
 protested. 
 
 " All right," said Willie. " I appreciate that, and 
 feel the worse because you came under those circum 
 stances. But I 'm glad to have you, anyway, for there 
 is business ahead." 
 
 " What business ? " I inquired.
 
 " Those war ships," he responded, pointing to the 
 fast-thickening smoke. " Hashi tells me there are two 
 of them." 
 
 " What are you going to do ? " I said anxiously. " I 
 thought you were helpless that No. 6 was out of 
 business." 
 
 " My orders read to ' use war measures in the pres 
 ence of the enemy,' " Willie replied briefly. " Now 
 we '11 get ready." 
 
 Getting ready consisted in pumping every tank out, 
 examining the air-dryers and the apparatus for controll 
 ing descent and ascent, and in charging the batteries as 
 much as we could. Willie explained to me, when this 
 was done, that he had been inside the forward tank and 
 had tried the seams. " It '11 have to hold," he said. 
 " If it don't, I 'm afraid the Russians will have the best 
 of us." 
 
 I did my best to expound to him the preposterous 
 folly of attempting to grapple with two well-prepared 
 battle ships in a submarine whose behavior was, to say 
 the least, problematic. Willie heard me out, and as 
 serted that he was responsible for the good name of the 
 submarines. " I 'm here for the builders in America," 
 he said. " And the admiral has figured it all out. It 's 
 a scientific calculation, and we must do our part." So 
 far as I recollect, he said nothing else till he gave orders 
 to close the hatch and to submerge. It was with deep 
 regret that I saw the water surge over the port glasses. 
 I was not reassured when Willie asked me to go below 
 and see what the pressure in the compressed air tank
 
 WAR CORRESPONDENT 107 
 
 was. I reported, and lie seemed satisfied. Later, as 
 No. 6 swayed gently along, Willie remarked that he 
 would be glad of the room occupied by the two torpedoes 
 remaining. " When they 're gone we '11 have less 
 trouble with that for'ard tank. In fact, Parsons," I 
 remember him saying, with a comical twist to his mouth, 
 " we may have to get rid of those torpedoes in order to 
 keep No. 6 from going to the bottom." 
 
 He said nothing more. 
 
 At last, just about noon, he motioned for me to look 
 through the periscope. I saw two war ships, about half 
 a mile apart, both steaming slowly. The nearest one 
 was, as nearly as I could judge, about a mile away. 
 When I had looked, Willie glued his eye to the tube 
 again and slowly turned the steering wheel. " I 'm 
 going to get the foremost one," he remarked, ten minutes 
 later, as he pulled a lever. 
 
 No. 6 lifted her nose and surged up as the missile left 
 her. A moment later we swam upon the surface. 
 Willie threw the wheel over and the submarine wal 
 lowed downward again like a porpoise, her whole frame 
 rasping and quivering. At the instant she answered 
 her rudders and rolled to an even keel the lights set in 
 hoods by the indicator dials flashed and went out. Ap 
 parently I stubbed my toe and was flung headlong down 
 the steps into the lower hull. 
 
 I regained my feet quickly, although No. 6 was shud 
 dering from bow to stern and her decks fairly heaved. 
 I perceived, by the light of a dim lantern, the two Japs. 
 One of them was bending over the motor casing on the
 
 108 ACROSS THE LATITUDES 
 
 starboard side, while the other gaped, open-mouthed, at 
 something I could not see. Willie dropped on his feet 
 on the lower deck and called quietly, " Short-circuit, 
 boys!" 
 
 It was then that I realized the discipline Willie en 
 forced. The men responded to his voice like trained 
 dogs, and, during the fifteen minutes ensuing, the war 
 correspondent of the " American Scientist " stood on the 
 steel plates, held to the railing on the steps leading to 
 the steering tower, and perspired. The whole interior 
 of the hull glowed with sparks of fire and flashes of 
 electricity. 
 
 How they managed, I could not tell you. But the 
 lights came on again, though dimly, and the motors 
 started hesitatingly. With the instinct of self-preser 
 vation I went up into the steering tower. It was 
 nearer the surface, at least. The first thing I saw 
 was the submergence dial. We were 113 feet under 
 water. 
 
 I stared at this, feeling that I must tell Willie. But 
 I confess I had not courage to go below again. The 
 little light illuminating the dial brightened slowly, and, 
 as it did so, I saw the indicator needle move on to 114, 
 then, with a sudden slip, to 119. Willie leaned over my 
 shoulder. " I wonder if we got that battle ship ? " he 
 muttered. " The torpedo did n't have far to go and the 
 explosion started some of our plates, I perceive. Messed 
 my wiring up a little, too." 
 
 I laid my finger silently on the dial. 
 
 " Pretty deep, is n't it ? " Willie remarked quietly.
 
 WAR CORRESPONDENT 109 
 
 " And that f or'ard tank is full of water. But we must 
 get that other ship." 
 
 He dropped down into the hull and I heard the 
 clanking of the pump. It did n't sound very lively 
 and when Willie shouted for me I decided that we had 
 reached the end of our course. I went down feeling 
 quite reconciled. I found Willie and the crew busily 
 engaged. 
 
 " Hand-pump," he said briefly. " Use your muscle 
 on this." 
 
 The two Japs were gearing up the pump, and in an 
 other minute I had hold of a steel bar which I worked 
 back and forth under Willie's direction. " It '11 get 
 easier as we rise," he remarked. " Keep on, even if you 
 drop." 
 
 The Japs, stripped to the waist, labored mechanically 
 and efficiently. It would be impossible to tell you how 
 laborious our toil was. We were pumping against the 
 horrible pressure of the water in which we were sub 
 merged, and I assure you that within five minutes I 
 heard nothing except the dull opening and shutting of 
 the heavy check valves. 
 
 Willie went to and fro swiftly and noiselessly. His 
 face, as he passed under the lights, showed as calm and 
 serene as if we were in No. 6's slip and not sinking in 
 the bottomless Pacific in a leaky cylinder of steel. Once 
 or twice he stopped and glanced keenly over us. The 
 third time I noticed that the Japs' faces were suffused 
 with purple and that the veins in their necks stood out 
 blackly. They toiled on, steadily. It struck me that
 
 110 ACROSS THE LATITUDES 
 
 they would soon give out. For myself I felt fairly 
 strong though with a queer sense of giddiness, probably 
 due to the unusual exertion. 
 
 Willie came by again and paused to say, " We '11 rise 
 stern foremost." 
 
 Another time he came and smiled. " You fellows 
 are n't making much progress," he said. " I think I '11 
 have to give you a drink." 
 
 My mouth dried up like a piece of paper in the fire 
 at the very suggestion. Willie smiled again and reached 
 overhead to a stop-cock. I heard a sharp hiss, and a 
 current of cold air struck my shoulders. I took a deep 
 breath and was amazed at the effect. I instantly re 
 gained my strength. I saw the Japs look up dully and 
 then redouble their efforts. 
 
 No words I could use would convey the proper im 
 pression of our industry. You will imagine that men 
 fighting for life would toil incessantly and desperately. 
 But our prodigious efforts were not the result of fear or 
 despair. We were exhilarated, elevated above all perils 
 and disaster. Our strength flowed out into that pump 
 gloriously. Our eyes shone. Our hearts beat strongly, 
 evenly, and without pain. I swear to you we could have 
 lifted No. 6 bodily out of the depths to which she was 
 gone. And so we drove those pump bars back and forth 
 as if they were straws. 
 
 How long we labored I am unable to say. I had set 
 my whole mind on my task. Occasionally I caught a 
 glimpse of Willie peering through the heavy vapor that 
 surrounded us. Once or twice I heard his voice, ringing
 
 WAR CORRESPONDENT 111 
 
 bell-like, saying some encouraging and unnecessary 
 word. 
 
 Suddenly he loomed like a shadow over us. " We 've 
 risen to fifty feet," he said. 
 
 I smiled. The Japs drew their thin lips back over 
 their teeth and smiled, too. How we drove that leaky 
 shell upward from the ooze! How our arms sped and 
 our hands grasped and the check valves thundered as we 
 thrust the water out ! What a din we made ! The hol 
 low cavern of the hull resounded. And as the clamor 
 of our vast toil rolled back and forth No. 6 surged 
 upward. 
 
 Willie opened the hatch. The sunlight poured down 
 upon us. The chill sea wind blew on our heated bodies. 
 We cooled like irons in a blacksmith's tub. The pump 
 levers suddenly were infinitely heavy. We threw our 
 dead weight against them and they gave, creakingly. 
 They stopped. We could not move them. 
 
 Willie came down the steps and stared at us. " That 
 undiluted oxygen is great stuff," he murmured from a 
 great distance. " Regular elixir of life ! " 
 
 We fell away from the levers and slumped down on 
 deck. The cold air played over me, stifled me. Then 
 somebody poured a bucket of cold water on me and I 
 died. 
 
 That is, I thought I died. As a matter of fact I sat 
 up and swore at Willie. He reached down and helped 
 me to my feet. " You may not know it," he said, 
 " but you fellows have been pumping two hours and a 
 half. Now, if you can wiggle your limbs, we '11 try and
 
 112 ACROSS THE LATITUDES 
 
 get this old tub into fighting shape again. That other 
 war ship is lying two miles away, disabled. We landed 
 the first one, all right." 
 
 He dragged me up through the hatch and to the little 
 deck. No. 6 lay almost awash, her bow canted down 
 ward. Just on the edge of the sea I made out the bulk 
 of the surviving Russian. That apparition was enor 
 mous and appalling. I clutched Willie's arm in pro 
 test. " You are n't going to try to torpedo her ? " I 
 demanded. 
 
 Willie almost shook my hand off. " Lieutenant 
 Pettifer, J. P. N., is in command of this fish," he said 
 curtly. " Kindly go below and drive those Japs on 
 deck." 
 
 They came, staggering, with bloodshot eyes. He re 
 ceived them with flying orders. They hesitated, glanced 
 dully about them, and gradually, as though gathering 
 momentum, went about their duties. 
 
 For an hour they worked out on the bow of the 'ma 
 rine, Willie thrusting them around in the washing water 
 like dolls. They came in, soaked through, dripping 
 with perspiration in spite of the chill wind and chiller 
 waves. " I guess those plates are fixed enough for an 
 other try," said Willie, dropping a heavy hammer 
 through the hatch. " Now we '11 pump her out some 
 more." 
 
 My skin pinched my flesh at the words. But he drove 
 us below with a smile, did Willie, and put our hands on 
 the levers and and we pumped. When we fell away 
 from the bars, unable to exert another ounce of strength,
 
 WAR CORRESPONDENT 113 
 
 he smiled widely. " We 're all right now," he an 
 nounced cheerfully. 
 
 He coupled up the gasoline engines and investigated 
 the fuel tank. " I guess we '11 just about make it," he 
 said to me as he passed into the steering tower. " I '11 
 save what 's left in the batteries for maneuvering when 
 we get there. Lucky that battle ship is disabled. 
 
 No. 6 gathered way through the heaving waves under 
 the propulsion of the coughing engines. Down in the 
 hull the heat grew torrid and the fumes of escaping gas 
 choked us horribly. But the Japs stayed at their sta 
 tions doggedly, and when I essayed to go into the little 
 tower and Willie made room for me I found the air 
 there far worse than below. The hatch was screwed 
 down and Willie was peering through a little peep-hole 
 set with thick prisms of glass. 
 
 I looked through the periscope and saw the huge ship 
 rolling about a half mile distant from us. Her stern 
 was toward us. 
 
 " They 're pretty busy on that ship," Willie remarked, 
 " otherwise they 'd see us. Guess they ran into the 
 wreckage of the first one and fouled their propellers. 
 I hope the sun won't set right in our eyes." 
 
 He pressed a button and I heard the shifting of a 
 heavy body below and the clang of a steel gate. " There 
 goes our last torpedo into the firing tube," Willie ex 
 plained. " And I 've got to use oxygen to discharge it 
 with. Compressed air is all used up. But these tor 
 pedoes travel anyway, once clear of the tube." 
 
 At that instant a puff of smoke rose from the stern
 
 114 ACROSS THE LATITUDES 
 
 of the war ship, and almost simultaneously a shell 
 screeched over No. 6. 
 
 " In line, but too high," Willie said. " Seeing they 
 know we 're here I guess we '11 scare them to death." 
 
 Once more No. 6 settled in the water. The gasoline 
 engines stopped and the motors began to rumble. 
 
 A vague terror seized me as I realized that we were 
 dropping. I was aware that someone was clutching my 
 leg and I kicked out violently. Willie glanced down and 
 I saw his face suddenly harden. He reached over 
 swiftly and picked up the heavy brass wrench used 
 in screwing the hatch down. He dropped it. A 
 muffled groan was emitted below and the hand let go 
 of my leg. 
 
 No. 6 swayed uneasily and as if ill-balanced as we 
 groped along. Willie stared continuously into the peri 
 scope. " I 'm getting between them and the setting 
 sun," he said. Later he reached over and pulled the 
 lever, releasing the torpedo. Instead of the upward 
 surge nothing followed but the hiss of slowly escaping 
 air. The submergence dial showed that No. 6 was 
 sinking. 
 
 " Not pressure enough," Willie said wrathfully. He 
 pulled other levers and I felt the submarine struggle 
 upward in obedience to her horizontal rudders. But the 
 strain was too great. The motors slowed down and 
 stopped. The lights grew dim. 
 
 We groped our way down the steps. As we reached 
 the lower deck I felt the body of someone under my feet. 
 I stooped down and laid my hand on the bare chest of
 
 WAR CORRESPONDENT 115 
 
 the Jap who had clutched my leg. The wrench had done 
 its work. 
 
 After a moment's fussing with the switches on the 
 part of Willie the lights brightened. " We 've no use 
 for the little current remaining," he said, " except to 
 see to work by. I 'm sorry I killed that fellow there. 
 We need him to pump." 
 
 " What 's the use of pumping ? " I said. " We 're 
 down here to stay." 
 
 " There 's still that Russian up there," he replied. 
 " And we 're not so deep this time, although of course 
 we 're going down all the time. I reckon we can get him 
 yet. I '11 help you." 
 
 The pump levers gave reluctantly to our first pulls. 
 The Jap gave a couple of thrusts to his bar with his body 
 and then rolled his eyes to his commander. I could not 
 hear what he said. Willie's voice rang out wrathfully. 
 " Not this time, my son ! No patriots here ! If you so 
 much as make a move toward that switch I '11 send your 
 name to the admiral as a mutineer in the face of the 
 enemy." 
 
 As the sailor sullenly thrust his weight against the 
 pump lever Willie called across to me, " These chaps 
 are all for banzais and flowers. They ain't scientists. 
 But the admiral, he 's the lad for science. The idea of 
 this blind patriot wanting to set that torpedo off in the 
 tube when we don't know how close the battle ship is! 
 Anyway, we 're too deep down to do any harm if we 
 were right under her." 
 
 After an infinite period of toil I saw Willie reach up
 
 to the oxygen valve again. He turned it on full. As 
 he put his hand back on the lever I caught his smile. 
 He nodded brightly. The cold blast struck down be 
 tween my shoulders and flowed over my chest. I took a 
 deep breath. Once more I was full of strength. 
 
 How our hearts beat! And at every full pulse we 
 drove the bars over and back with endless might. We 
 breathed fire and it poured out to our clutching fingers 
 and into the steel levers. The dim interior of the sub 
 marine grew brilliant and luminous. The machinery 
 stood out in shining masses capable of miraculous activ 
 ity. The past and the future faded. For that hour we 
 lived in the gorgeous, magnificent Present. And all the 
 while Willie smiled. 
 
 It gradually broke in upon my rapt mind that the 
 Jap was singing. His muscled chest shone behind the 
 lever as he plunged to and fro with extraordinary agility, 
 and his song, throbbing upward, rose and filled the 
 sounding shell of steel. I have heard the strain else 
 where, on the coal docks and in the holds of merchant 
 men loading with cargo. But I shall always hear it as 
 that sailor sang it over his pump handle in that sodden 
 submarine, as we drove our glorious tomb upward from 
 hell. 
 
 " Hey-a ho-a hum! Hai-a hai-a ho ! " he lilted. 
 
 That tireless song in our ears, we labored with 
 flooding energy. Ah, what an hour that was ! Death's 
 fingers at our throats, Death's arms about us! 
 Death's cold waters burdening us down! And the 
 Jap sang, and we flung the heavy steel levers back
 
 WAR CORRESPONDENT 117 
 
 and forth with gusto, with silent laughter, with full- 
 throbbing hearts. . . . 
 
 The plates underneath our feet suddenly tilted. The 
 long, luminous cavern of the hull soared, fell away like 
 a pencil from a search-light. There was a rush of water 
 overhead, the thud of waves breaking on the deck. The 
 song died away. We dropped the pump levers. Willie 
 leaped to the steering tower, and I heard the rasp of the 
 hatch as he unscrewed it. A breath of air swept down 
 upon us. I saw the Jap crumple up like a mechanical 
 toy when the current is turned off. My own strength 
 ebbed in a second. As I squatted on the pump I looked 
 up. A single star peeped down through the open hatch. 
 A bit of flying spray stung my flesh. 
 
 I crept up the ladder one step at a time. I paused by 
 the steering wheel for breath. Then I slowly thrust my 
 arms out of the hatch and drew myself on deck. 
 
 It was dark night. No. 6 lay high among the shad 
 owy waves that reared themselves against the horizon 
 and swept under her with gurgling sounds like surf 
 among the rocks. Willie, braced against the little rail 
 ing that ran around the top of the tower, was staring out 
 silently. 
 
 In my weakness I felt that we had reached the end, 
 indeed. What end ? I could not tell. But as I glanced 
 up at the figure above me I saw the same still smile, 
 discerned it in the gloom as though a light shone on his 
 face. Then my eyes opened. 
 
 A hundred yards away, lifting her dark bulk upward 
 above the heaving sea, lay the Russian. !Not a light
 
 118 ACROSS THE LATITUDES 
 
 showed; not a human sound drifted out to us. I sur 
 mised that she had been abandoned. 
 
 That surmise proved unfounded. A figure appeared 
 at her rail a careless and drowsy figure. 
 
 I managed to get beside Willie. He put his hand on 
 my arm. " Hush ! " he whispered. " We '11 get them 
 yet!" 
 
 Before I could seek an explanation a wave took No. 6 
 gently up, heaved her forward a hundred feet, and 
 dropped her back fifty. I held on and was silent. A 
 second wave thrust us softly within a hundred feet of 
 the vast mass of the battle ship. And as we rolled I 
 heard, at last, a shrill cry from the deck of the Russian. 
 
 I was blinded by the glare that enveloped us as if in 
 response to that cry. Willie dug his fingers into my 
 arm. " Found us the first thing with their search-light," 
 he muttered. " But they 're too late ! " 
 
 A third wave lifted us up in that dazzling blaze, 
 poised us delicately. We slipped down its farther face. 
 The nose of No. 6 stopped a bare dozen yards from the 
 enormous wall of steam. " Look up ! " Willie cried. 
 
 I lifted my eyes against the gleaming light. Sil 
 houetted in its cold brilliancy we saw a multitude of 
 heads rising from a huddled mass of surging forms. It 
 was the battle-ship's crew gathered at the rail. Amid 
 that dark multitude gold flashed, the sheen of steel and 
 the flicker of polished accouterments showed transiently. 
 
 The huge, silent, heaving concourse had but a single 
 countenance. It was that of a man in night-clothes, one 
 bare leg thrust part way over the rail, a chapeau on his
 
 WAR CORRESPONDENT 119 
 
 head, a sword in his hand. Roused from sleep, from 
 lethargy, by a cry of dread, the commander of the im 
 mense ship stared down at us with an appalled and 
 frightful look. His bearded lips moved in unspoken, 
 useless commands. His sword waved in an infinitesimal 
 arc. He comprehended No. 6 wallowing in the sea; 
 understood her errand. His gaze flickered upon Willie, 
 leaning intently over the slight rail of our deck. I felt 
 his eyes cross mine. Then he fixed his terrible, profound 
 vision upon some one else. 
 
 In that enduring pause I looked round to see what 
 this grotesque figure viewed with such astounding terror. 
 I did not have to seek far. Beside me stood the last Jap 
 of the submarine's crew. His bare legs straddled the 
 open hatch cover. His white chest, streaked with grime, 
 shone boldly in the white light. His bony face was 
 turned upward to his enemy. Behind his grinning lips 
 his teeth gleamed in ferocious triumph. 
 
 As these two, the prepared and the unprepared, met 
 each other's eyes, while the silent crowd on the battle 
 ship hung over the rail and Willie and I stared at them, 
 a final surge lifted No. 6 steadily up. For an instant 
 we hung, balanced on the crest. Then the submarine 
 slipped down the shining declivity toward her foe. 
 
 With a swift outstretching of his arm Willie encircled 
 my shoulder. His voice rang in my ear. " We made 
 it!" 
 
 No. 6 thrust her bowl-shaped nose downward into the 
 flanks of the huge battle ship. The deck crumpled under 
 my feet. I saw the enormous wall of steel above us give
 
 120 ACROSS THE LATITUDES 
 
 inwardly and then expand. The search-light snapped 
 out. 
 
 I found myself clinging to a piece of grating in a very 
 rough bit of water. The darkness was intense. An 
 acrid odor suffused the air which I breathed. Then I 
 was conscious of an arm about my shoulder. I heaved 
 myself round and dragged at it. Willie's voice sput 
 tered in my ear. " I did n't know whether you were 
 worth saving or not," he said, spitting the water out of 
 his mouth. 
 
 " What happened ? " I asked, gathering my thoughts. 
 " Where 's the battle ship ? " 
 
 " We got her," he said quietly. " That torpedo was 
 still in the tube, you know." 
 
 I pondered this a while. " I don't see that we 're any 
 better off," I said presently. " We '11 drown." 
 
 " You forget the admiral," he assured me. " We 're 
 part of a scientific calculation. We 've done our part. 
 And how is he to know whether his calculations were 
 correct unless we report ? " 
 
 I refused such comfort. Willie sat up on the rocking 
 grating. " Look here," he said brusquely. " The ad 
 miral knows we 're here. He 's figured it all out." 
 
 I guess the admiral did know. Anyway we were 
 picked up the next morning by a small torpedo boat 
 whose commander took our presence on the grating as a 
 matter of course, gave us a hot drink, and immediately 
 steamed back into the Straits as if he had come out on 
 purpose for us. I went back to my laboratory and my 
 bakeries. In fact I never wrote anything about the
 
 WAR CORRESPONDENT 121 
 
 affair. Willie and I decided we 'd call it the Battle of 
 Moriyoshi, after a big mountain we saw the day we were 
 picked up. But we did n't think it was worth a line in 
 the paper. And I was n't really a war correspondent. 
 My line was flour.
 
 THE BAD EGG 
 
 " I THINK, sometimes, that we are prone to judge our 
 fellowmen hastily," the doctor said. " We pass sentence 
 thus : He is a fine citizen. He will never succeed. The 
 man has nothing in him. Smith is a bad egg. So we 
 go through life, labeling our companions without regard 
 to the purpose of God, or Providence, or Destiny, as you 
 may choose to term the ruling power. There is work in 
 this world that has to be done ; rude, rough, cruel work. 
 Neither you nor I being what we call gentlemen 
 could do it. We are n't up to it. And when it con 
 fronts us we stand aside, and the bad egg, the condemned 
 one of yesterday, jostles us to one side and we see the 
 task completed. I knew a man " 
 
 It 's four years ago that I was appointed surgeon of 
 the steamer Princess Eugenia, running in the mail and 
 passenger service out of British Columbia ports down 
 to the Colonies. It was a good berth. The Princess was 
 a fine ship, an oil-burner, and one of the first trans- 
 Pacific boats to use the new fuel which, as you know, is 
 handled entirely by machinery and does away with the 
 big stokehold crews of aforetime. On my first trip 
 and my last on that steamer we left Puget Sound 
 with about one hundred and fifty passengers, the royal
 
 THEBADEGG 123 
 
 mails and general cargo. A man named Joseph Mc 
 Lean was master and Edward Rush was chief engi 
 neer. McLean was an old-timer on the Pacific, bore an 
 excellent reputation with the company, and was popular 
 with his passengers. His promotion to the Princess was 
 as fitting as the choice of the chief engineer seemed 
 strange. The engineer was not a man whom you would 
 pick out for such a command, being a silent, hard, cruel 
 character, commonly endowed by his subordinates and 
 shipmates with half the dull vices and all the petty 
 meannesses. I can't recall a tithe of the stories I heard 
 of him. But he had used fire-room crews so scandal 
 ously that twice he had been in danger of losing his 
 ticket. There was a dark rumor that he had killed a 
 man. He had no friends. But no one suggested that 
 he was not a skillful and competent engineer. 
 
 Physically he was a chap of about thirty-five years of 
 age, well built, almost handsome in feature and with 
 a very arrogant manner. His eyes were striking in their 
 expression of self-assertion. He stared straight at you 
 without winking. 
 
 Among the passengers were two young women. Mary 
 Russell was a pretty, petulant girl accompanied by her 
 mother, bound, I understood, on a pleasure trip that 
 Rush had proposed. I know we were certain that the 
 chief engineer and Miss Russell were engaged to be 
 married and I, as the ship's surgeon, was told that the 
 mother's health was not good. The other girl was an 
 Edith Halsey. She was one of those slender, black- 
 haired girls you sometimes see to admire. Oddly
 
 124 ACROSS THE LATITUDES 
 
 enough she was possessed of a double beauty, due to the 
 great difference between her full face and her profile. 
 If you spoke to her you found yourself looking into 
 steady, brilliant dark eyes ; her cheeks were n't full, but 
 gave one the impression that she was finely poised. Her 
 mouth was clearly cut, red-lipped, and deeply indented. 
 I tell you she was not only very lovely, but very alluring. 
 
 Her profile was that of another woman. The piquant 
 nose here showed itself straight and slightly sharp at 
 the tip. The full eyes became appealing, gentle, timid. 
 The deeply-curved mouth gave an expression of fragility 
 and suffering and faint sorrow. Add to these strange 
 and incongruous perfections of face a fine form, a tune 
 ful voice and the walk of a healthy woman. That 's as 
 much as I can tell you about Edith Halsey, except that 
 she was educated and refined. With her on the Prin 
 cess Eugenia was her father, a well-to-do, somewhat 
 stupid old chap of eight-and-fifty. He dozed all morn 
 ing till time to get up the Calcutta sweep, took a tem 
 perate interest in this and then relapsed into a game of 
 whist with three cronies. 
 
 So you have us for the first few days : Edith Halsey 
 walking through our little society gracefully pleasant to 
 us all ; McLean stiff and straight on the bridge ; Rush 
 silently vanishing to his engines or almost as silently 
 standing beside Mary Russell's chair, now and then 
 stooping over her to adjust a rug or pick up a book that 
 had slipped to the deck ; and myself, the doctor, watch 
 ing them all with a paternal eye. Even now I like to 
 recall that scene because of its peace and friendliness;
 
 THEBADEGG 125 
 
 because Rush's arrogance was lost for a little in his de 
 votion to the pretty, spoiled girl; because McLean was 
 peacefully enjoying his new command; most of all, it 
 is possible, because I see once more Edith Halsey's won 
 derful face and catch her quick, warm smile. 
 
 We arrived in Honolulu and passed on again for the 
 South. There came no change into our daily life. We 
 reached latitude six north of the line before a strange 
 thing happened. 
 
 At two o'clock one night I woke up choking over 
 fumes of what I took to be furnace gas. I got out of 
 my berth, opened the lattice widely and was face to face 
 with a grimy stoker. " You 're needed below, Doctor," 
 he said unceremoniously. " We 're main sick in the 
 fire-room." 
 
 I paid little attention to my own inconvenience, 
 thinking that a whiff from the funnels had, by a breath 
 of wind, been diverted into my room. We were all sus 
 picious of the oil-burners, anyway, they being a novel 
 affair. I hurried down into the engine-room and found 
 Rush at the fire-room door. 
 
 " It 's a funny thing," he told me. " Six of the men 
 are on their backs. Of course, it 's hot down here, but 
 the boys have the draught and I don't understand this 
 sudden sickness. One of them is dead. Be careful it 
 is n't mere funk on the others' part." He stared at me 
 with a peculiarly grim expression of determination as 
 I nodded and passed in. 
 
 The roar of the furnaces took hold on my ears as I 
 paused in the boiling heat that poured around me in that
 
 126 ACROSS THE LATITUDES 
 
 stokehold. Flame spit out at me from the peepholes in 
 the doors, and a curl of dark, bituminous smoke shot like 
 water from a hose across my passage. Here and there 
 the glow of the bellowing fires, fed with steam and oil, 
 ruddied the sooty beams and bulkheads. Overhead the 
 gauges throbbed and hissed. I was almost afraid to 
 move, but a voice called me and I went over to where a 
 man knelt under a pounding pump. 
 
 I stooped over beside him and looked down into the 
 dark, swollen face of a man dead from heart-stoppage. 
 This is nothing unusual in the tropics, particularly in 
 coal-burners, yet I remember wondering at the sudden, 
 rigid tenseness of the man's wide nostrils. Then, my 
 inspection finished, I got up and went forward under 
 the cool tanks where five other men lay gasping. At 
 sight of them I knew my work was laid out for me and 
 I ordered them carried up on the after-deck. When 
 they were stretched out there, over the drumming screws, 
 they gaped miserably up at me, their flesh quivering 
 under the glare of the electrics. I did what I could, but 
 they died. 
 
 As I 've said, it is nothing out of the way for one or 
 two men in the fire-room to develop bad hearts and die 
 in the heat. But six men lay under the tarpaulin on 
 that deck, and from all over the ship came calls for the 
 doctor. Stewards pulling their white jackets over their 
 shoulders hailed me as I passed, and I myself could hear 
 a general complaint, the sound of people stumbling to 
 open ports, the low moaning of the unawakened. Then 
 a certain silent, intangible, invisible something clotted
 
 THEBADEGG 127 
 
 in the air, so to speak, and while I hurried hither and 
 yon with boys at my heels carrying soda water and ice, 
 Captain McLean sent for me to come to him on the 
 bridge. I went without jacket or cap. 
 
 On the bridge the skipper met me with expressions 
 of perturbation. " What is the matter ? " he demanded 
 in a harsh voice. 
 
 " Heat and probably carbon monoxide from the fur 
 naces," I replied. 
 
 " And and they are sick \ " he inquired, with an 
 odd gesture of dismay. 
 
 " They are dead six of the firemen," I told him. 
 " The passengers are ill, some of them. There must be 
 leakage of gas from the oil-burners." 
 
 While I spoke I observed that he stared up into the 
 dark, starry sky, his face depicting bewilderment and 
 dim horror. He shivered when I finished and said in a 
 constrained voice, " It 's up there ! " and tossed his open 
 palm heavenward. 
 
 You will understand that the Princess Eugenia was 
 traveling quietly along over a calm sea and that we had 
 had no premonition of trouble. The air was heavy and 
 lifeless, to be sure; the sky seemed profound and unlit 
 by the many stars; yet all this amounted to nothing. 
 And all over the ship, I tell you, was a sense of uneasi 
 ness, of discomfort, of increasing pain, of positive hor 
 ror ; nothing that one could lay hands on, yet a distinct 
 and universal feeling of evil And six men were dead. 
 And our captain was staring upward and reading in the 
 dark heavens only this amazing legend : " It is here ! "
 
 What was up there ? I tell you, gentlemen, that was 
 the horror of it: We didn't know; didn't know, in 
 truth, whether there was anything " up there " ; whether 
 our skipper was mad; whether an invisible and awful 
 death hovered over us in the deep vault of the firma 
 ment. All that was certain to me was that the ship was 
 awake at three in the morning, and that six men had 
 turned their swollen faces to eternity under some mys 
 terious and mortal impulse. I left the bridge and went 
 back to my duties. 
 
 Day came, as it dawns in those waters, with brilliance 
 and splendor. We hastily buried the dead, while the 
 stewards clattered the early-breakfast dishes in the 
 saloon. And when the last man was over the side the 
 chief engineer asserted to the captain who still held 
 the prayer-book open with his thumb that he would 
 have to work his men double watches to keep steam up. 
 " If something is wrong with those oil-burners," he 
 growled angrily, " I '11 find out what it is." 
 
 But McLean laid his lean hand on Rush's sleeve and 
 repeated, with great emphasis, looking upward : " It 's 
 not your furnaces ; it 's up there ! " 
 
 Rush looked inquiringly at me, but I refused to diag 
 nosticate the captain's mental state, even by a glance. 
 In turning my eyes away I caught sight of the first 
 officer's face. It changed in a flash from an expression 
 of steady vigilance to one of extreme misery, pain and 
 terror. He breathed sharply, with a wheezing inspira 
 tion. Then the dull purple of quick suffocation rose to 
 his temples and I ran for him. I caught him as he fell.
 
 THEBADEGG 129 
 
 As my arms went around him there entered my nostrils 
 a faint whiff of an indescribable odor, an odor of in 
 finite smoldering fire and smoke and combustion of 
 poisonous materials. To my fancy it seemed that a 
 small spiral of a horrible, noxious gas had been wafted 
 across my face ; the pain in my throat struck clear down 
 into my vitals. I heard the captain muttering : " Yes, 
 it 's up there ! " We got the mate below and revived 
 him. An hour later he was on the bridge, a little shaky, 
 but composed and vigilant. The second engineer, how 
 ever, was dead. He had gone to take a look at the con 
 denser ; there he had been stricken down mysteriously. 
 
 At the end of the next twenty-four hours the Princess 
 Eugenia was steaming slowly over the sea with barely 
 enough pressure in her boilers to give her steerage-way. 
 The fire-room was empty, the stokers and water tenders 
 huddled on the after-deck in sullen mutiny. Of the 
 engineers Rush alone was left, and two of the passengers 
 had been choked by this incredible death. We knew at 
 last what it was. ISTot gas from the furnaces, but gas 
 from above. 
 
 Floating on the lower air lay a great pool of poisonous 
 vapor, jetted up, I suppose, from a submarine volcano. 
 In the still, windless atmosphere it hung in an invisible 
 and fatal cloud, eddying hither and thither to the slight 
 impulse of the sluggish rollers below it. And whenever 
 a tiny stream of that mortal fluid came down upon our 
 ship some one strangled, stared up and died. 
 
 The horror of it was that this great sea of poison was 
 settling down. Hour by hour it lowered upon us. Gulls
 
 soaring upward in the swift arc of their flight w r ould 
 stop, flutter and drop like stones to the water. Then 
 there were no more gulls. Occasionally we passed a 
 whole school of flying fish, lying on a wave like a hand 
 ful of torn paper. 
 
 What were we to do ? was the question. 
 
 Apart from the passengers, now thoroughly scared, 
 Captain McLean, the mate and I continually discussed 
 this, throwing uneasy glances to the cloudless sky. The 
 skipper was for keeping on; the chief officer advocated 
 turning from our long course southward to hasten out of 
 such waters into the north. " We 're running deeper 
 and deeper into this," he would say, with a shake of his 
 head. " We '11 run square into the main body of it soon, 
 and inside of ten minutes no one will be left alive." 
 
 " We can't no one can say as to that," McLean 
 would contend, wringing his fingers. " There 's always 
 the risk of doing worse. We 're on our course now. 
 It 's all in the dark, at best. I could n't explain to the 
 company. Let 's steam on toward our port and trust 
 to God." 
 
 " But the engines are almost out of commission," we 
 would both urge on him. " Nobody is left on watch 
 below but Rush. The steam is going down hour by hour. 
 The stokers are openly mutinous, and no one seems to 
 see any way of setting them to work again. The pro 
 pellers are barely turning. How shall we keep the fires 
 going ? " 
 
 In the end the captain sent for Rush. He came, 
 grimy, white-lipped, clad in greasy overalls and a sooty
 
 THEBADEGG 131 
 
 undershirt. I see him yet coming up the clean deck, 
 stepping among the silent passengers, a quiet, arrogant 
 figure of a man, and as he passed in his dirt and un- 
 cleanness they groaned. When he had mounted to the 
 bridge McLean looked steadily at him and said : " Mr. 
 Kush, I have been taking advice. I may state that I 
 am firmly convinced that we should keep on our course. 
 This phenomenon may cease at any time. But I under 
 stand that your department is crippled, that you can't 
 keep your men at work." 
 
 Rush nodded in his insolent way. " There 's only 
 myself left to stand a watch," he told us. " My fire- 
 room crew is gone by half and the other half is sucking 
 thumbs on the after-deck. Give me authority and I '11 
 keep the engines going, captain." 
 
 " Alone ? " McLean demanded. " What authority do 
 you need more than you 've got ? " 
 
 " Alone," Rush replied, gazing at us all. " As for 
 authority, I want you to back me up when I take my 
 men below. I 've suggested a couple of times that I 
 would take them down and put them to work, but each 
 time you 've been afraid for the passengers. The pas 
 sengers are none of my business. If you want the en 
 gines kept going, I '11 look out for my crew." 
 
 McLean was horribly disturbed. " You have a hard 
 name, Mr. Rush," he said finally. " I might find it 
 hard to explain when I get ashore that I 'd allowed you 
 to to " 
 
 Rush took him up boldly. " Do some killing ? " he 
 remarked. " Is that what you 're afraid of ? If you
 
 132 ACROSS THE LATITUDES 
 
 want your engines started full speed again, please allow 
 me to manage my department." 
 
 " But the passengers ! " McLean said. " Think 
 what they will say! And it is death to stay in your 
 fire-room." 
 
 " I stay there," he retorted, smiling coldly. " And as 
 for the passengers you are in command, sir. I have 
 said that I would keep the engines going and I will, so 
 long as a man 's left alive. But unless you give me a 
 free hand I can't do anything." 
 
 I suppose the skipper pondered the question with 
 occasional distrustful glances at his chief engineer 
 for a half-hour. Then he shook his head. " Enough 
 men have died already," he announced. " I can't 
 authorize you to use strong measures, Mr. Rush." 
 
 Rush's smile was an inclusive one, condemning us of 
 faint-heartedness, of inefficiency, of incompetency. He 
 turned away and went back, down the white deck among 
 the silent passengers and into the dark hole that marked 
 the entrance to his engine-room. I was following him 
 and I saw two women glance after him. One was Mary 
 Russell. Her pretty, petulant face was pinched and 
 drawn. She seemed almost afraid of Rush, so distinct 
 was her shrinking as he passed by. But Edith Halsey 
 did n't shrink. She gazed after him with a thoughtful, 
 brilliant expression of admiration. 
 
 For some hours that day the death hovering above us 
 didn't descend. During that time we kept our eyes 
 ceaselessly on the splendid and deadly sky till immunity 
 gave us courage and we smiled. Old Halsey even tim-
 
 THEBADEGG 133 
 
 idly suggested that we make our usual sweep on the day's 
 run. " It 's so small that it will give us a wide range 
 for betting," he told us. But we discouraged him by 
 lack of enthusiasm. Yet the daily life was resumed 
 sufficiently on deck to make it apparent that a great 
 change had come over Mary Russell and Edith Halsey. 
 Mary was permanently disenchanted with the sea. Its 
 cruelty, its sternness frightened her. She hated it. 
 And in that weak, peevish hatred she came to include, 
 as I saw, the man whose influence had led her to em 
 bark on this voyage. She did n't conceal her aversion, 
 and when he snatched a moment from his duties below 
 to come up and call to her from the engine-room door 
 way she pettishly turned her head and refused to notice 
 him. 
 
 On the other hand Edith Halsey suddenly became 
 thoughtful, no longer tripping around among us with 
 her smile and her low-toned voice. She sat in her 
 steamer chair near the engine-room door, her chin in 
 her hands, her eyes fixed on the horizon. Now and 
 then she listened, with an imperceptible tilt of her 
 head, to the sounds of steel on steel in the bowels of 
 the ship. Where others cast their sick eyes upward she 
 was serene and undisturbed only thoughtful. 
 
 Here Edward Rush astonished us. Remember that 
 the poisoned air still floated overhead; that people still 
 choked when a bit of its fume trickled down; that 
 McLean was openly in doubt; that the mutineers of 
 the fire-room crew still idly sat on the after-deck, re 
 fusing duty. And in all this wordless confusion the
 
 134 ACJROSS THE LATITUDES 
 
 engineer came out among us and paid court to Edith 
 Halsey. One would have thought shame would have 
 restrained him. The least of us was horrified that he 
 passed Mary Russell calmly by and sat dirty clothes 
 and all insolently by the side of the loveliest woman 
 of them all. But he did this. He lounged in a chair, 
 cast his cold and arrogant eyes over us and talked to 
 Edith as if no one else breathed. You could n't mistake 
 his manner. His fancy had been caught by her poise 
 and her serenity. He courted her openly, turning his 
 sooty face to her fair one with an incredible assurance, 
 as though he met her on even ground, had a claim on 
 her, knew that she liked his company. Even McLean 
 was wrathful. We recalled old tales about our chief 
 engineer. Many of us pitied Mary Russell and took 
 pains to show her that we disapproved of Rush's change 
 of allegiance. All to no effect. He quietly scorned us, 
 and the engines turned more and more slowly till, at 
 last, they stopped. The Princess Eugenia floated on 
 the still sea, turning her blind bow first to one quar 
 ter and then to another. The last of the engine-room 
 crew came on deck. Rush sat and talked to Edith 
 Halsey. 
 
 And that night death struck down among us again. 
 A man and a woman died in their staterooms. The 
 dawn found us all peering helplessly into the clear, 
 tainted sky every man but Edward Rush, who sat 
 beside Edith Halsey and talked, with cold eyes watch 
 ing us and unmoved face upon the blank sea. What 
 was he saying? I don't know. But the girl's brows
 
 THE BAD EGG 135 
 
 were contracted as if she were slightly puzzled. ISTow 
 and again she threw him a swift glance. But she 
 didn't move. She accepted his society. 
 
 When it Avas daylight and McLean knew exactly 
 what had happened and might happen again he 
 looked us all over from the height of the bridge with 
 a set and austere gaze in which one read a growing 
 determination. I went up and reported to him and 
 he whispered in hoarse, reedy voice : " Doctor, your 
 skill is of no avail. I think " He paused. 
 
 I remember interrogating him by a look and he 
 answered me : " We must get the ship on her way. 
 The engines are stopped. If we get them to going 
 again " 
 
 It did n't take much to read his mind. I went and 
 called the chief engineer. He followed me and con 
 fronted the skipper on the bridge. McLean hesitated 
 and then said: "Can you get the engines going 
 again ? " 
 
 Rush smiled at him. "I told you I would put the 
 crew to work if you gave me authority. You seemed 
 to think it might interfere with the comfort of the 
 passengers if I if I urged them too harshly." 
 
 "But you have abandoned your post ! " McLean burst 
 out. 
 
 Rush's face did n't change. " I quit when there was 
 no more need of me," he replied. "Why should I go 
 down there and die uselessly ? " 
 
 McLean weakly grasped at a straw of his authority. 
 " Do you refuse duty ? "
 
 136 ACROSS THE LATITUDES 
 
 " I tell you . I '11 get the machines to working inside 
 of an hour if you will give me my men," he answered 
 boldly. " I Ve got only six men left. But that 's 
 enough." 
 
 For a moment McLean seemed to be figuring on what 
 would happen. But the shrewd, insolent expression 
 of Rush's face settled his determination. He waved 
 us from the bridge. " Turn your crew to," he said 
 abruptly. " Start the engines again." An instant later 
 he ordered me to accompany Rush and help him. 
 
 The passengers surmised from the colloquy on the 
 bridge that matters had taken a new turn, for some 
 of them followed us aft at a discreet distance 
 and a buzz of conversation rose. To this Rush paid 
 no attention. He strode directly down the deck, past 
 the long rows of staterooms and to the after-deck. Once 
 there he called out to the group of firemen lounging 
 under the awning : " Look lively, men ! Get down and 
 to your work ! " 
 
 They instinctively stirred at his sharp command. 
 One or two of them even prepared to obey. But the 
 others growled a coarse refusal. The volunteers slunk 
 back. Then Rush showed himself in his real nature. 
 
 I was standing by him while his cold eyes traveled 
 from one man to another. I caught something of the 
 profound menace of his quiet manner, but I also saw 
 something that I did n't understand for the moment : 
 a kind of careful appraisal of the sullen firemen, as 
 if he were measuring them up to some standard 
 possibly, I surmised, against his own sheer ability to
 
 THEBADEGG 137 
 
 handle them. For the moment I thought he was afraid 
 of them. I was mistaken. His survey finished, he 
 nodded his head and repeated his orders for them to 
 go back to their duty, this time in a tone that brought 
 them to their feet. Still they hung back, cowed by 
 the fear of that death that so frequently struck into 
 their midst, stimulated by the dull sense of their own 
 power of numbers. Rush stared at them a brief moment 
 and then remarked to me, over his shoulder : " These 
 brutes are getting out of hand. And I can spare only 
 one of them." 
 
 That last phrase was emphasized and the men looked 
 darkly at him, wrinkling their brows in the effort to 
 make out what he meant. The chief engineer repeated 
 it: " I can't spare more than one." His voice shot out 
 sharply : "Get forward, you men, and get to work ! " 
 
 One of them lurched out from the group and said: 
 " We ain't goin' to work. It 's sure death down there." 
 
 " It 's sure death here, too," Rush replied calmly. 
 " Which will you take ? A chance in the fire-room, or 
 no chance at all here ? " 
 
 The fellow's slow wits did n't catch the menace. " I 
 guess we '11 try it a while here," he laughed. 
 
 I saw the hot color slowly flood Rush's forehead. " I 
 did n't mean that you should mistake me," he said. 
 " Will you go to work, or will you die here now ? " 
 
 " I guess we '11 stop right here," the man replied, 
 settling back against a water cask. 
 
 With the precision and certainty of a machine Rush 
 pulled his revolver out of his pocket, shot the staring
 
 138 ACROSS THE LATITUDES 
 
 man through the heart, and said again : " You men 
 get forward and below to your work. Lively now ! " 
 
 Those poor firemen gazed into his arrogant, cruel face 
 and shrank from him. They started forward all to 
 gether and fell back, shufflingly, only to feel the keen 
 imperious command in his eyes and once more surged 
 along the deck toward their station. As they passed 
 us Rush swung round and followed them with his eyes. 
 As the last man broke into a ragged trot he stepped 
 out, meeting Captain McLean's blanched face. " I 'm 
 sorry you shot him," McLean stammered. " I think " 
 
 Rush smiled harshly. " I could spare one man," he 
 said. " That fellow was no good, anyway." He passed 
 on, through the huddled passengers, past Mary Russell 
 and her averted face, holding his head high, his steady 
 stare boldly confronting them all till it met the gaze of 
 Edith Halsey. To her he vouchsafed a word : " We '11 
 soon be on our road again. Never fear ! " With this 
 he vanished after his men into the engine-room. 
 
 It was over an hour before the Princess Eugenia 
 was again under way, and in that period there were 
 several cases of choking, none fatal. Then the steamer 
 headed to her course and a faint breeze fanned us into 
 hopefulness. Yet with the darkness came another catas 
 trophe that nearly ended our voyage. Our first warning 
 was the sudden outrush of firemen, yelling in terror. It 
 appeared that some wandering breath of the poisonous 
 vapor had stolen down among them and while no one 
 was dead from it, all had been half-strangled. You 
 could tell at a glance that this time it would take more
 
 THEBADEGG 139 
 
 than a show of revolvers to return them to their duty. 
 Fear, plain and stark, held them in its frozen grasp. 
 McLean eame down and tried to argue with them, the 
 chief officer at his elbow. They answered his words 
 with gapings and shudders, speechless, nerveless, almost 
 mad with terror. Rush's advent moved them not a jot. 
 True, he said nothing, but merely held up a lantern 
 and looked them over as if they were sheep. McLean 
 fussed across to him and said flightily : " What is to 
 be done, Mr. Rush ? What can we do ? " 
 
 " Get them back to work," was the answer. 
 
 " But they won't ; they are afraid," McLean said. 
 
 " I '11 make them work," was the confident reply, but 
 the skipper seemed more put out than ever by this. " I 
 forbid you to touch them, Mr. Rush," he stormed. 
 " There has been death enough on this ship and, please 
 God, we '11 go about things differently now. Don't 
 touch them ! " 
 
 For the first time Rush lost his temper. " How do 
 you expect me to keep my engines going ? " he said 
 hotly. " Is there nobody on this ship capable of taking 
 command ? " 
 
 " Mr. Rush ! Mr. Rush ! your words require an ex 
 planation," mumbled the honest old captain. 
 
 The chief engineer's snarl was n't a pretty thing to 
 see. Watching his livid lips, his steely eyes, his cruel 
 mouth, it came over me that, after all, Rush was the 
 solitary man left among us of capacity to deal with the 
 situation. Even the terror-stricken firemen shrank from 
 his wicked glare, muttering to themselves that no one
 
 140 ACROSS THE LATITUDES 
 
 could be expected to work when it was sure death. 
 Their hoarse protests made no impression on Rush. 
 He seemed to have lost all thought that he stood alone. 
 He gritted his teeth, clenched his fists, stood tensely 
 ready to spring upon them. McLean was prodigiously 
 perplexed. In all his life he had never confronted such 
 a situation, and between the mysterious death above 
 and the fear below he stood lost, like a man bereft of 
 all sense of direction, saying empty warnings meant 
 to assuage the wrath of his chief engineer and the 
 terror of his crew, and to maintain his own dignity. 
 In the very midst of his ramblings Rush swung on his 
 heel, left the circle and strode off into the darkness. 
 
 He went down the engine-room steps, I at his heels. 
 Once on the working platform he called the solitary 
 man still at his post and told him to go into the fire- 
 room and do his best. " Keep the pumps going and 
 I '11 help you," he ordered. " We must n't let the steam 
 go down again." 
 
 The oiler nodded, went slowly away and came back. 
 But Rush's stare seemed to freeze what he intended to 
 say on his lips and he went off and into the fire-room. 
 Then Rush turned to me. " I know you 're needed on 
 deck, Doctor," he said. " But everybody 's crazy up 
 there. If you '11 stay with me to-night down here, I '11 
 try to keep the engines turning. I '11 show you how 
 to fire under an oil-burner." 
 
 My place was on deck with the passengers, of course. 
 I can't explain why I stayed below. Possibly it was 
 the dogged will of the man, the imperious heart of him
 
 THEBADEGG 141 
 
 demanding and getting help. I followed him into the 
 stokehold. 
 
 The fire-room of an oil-burner is a roaring, spitting, 
 red-hot furnace. Where coal is burned one hears only 
 the suck of the drafts, the slash of the heavy bars, the 
 slurring of the coals, the clang of furnace doors, all 
 against the deep diapason of the steam. But in the 
 bowels of the Princess it was a continuous and horrible 
 blast, as if one stood in the very throat of an incredible 
 gale blowing out of hell. The lurid glow was shot here 
 and there by jets of black smoke from the vents, by 
 spurts of hot carbon that reduced to ashes one's clothes 
 wherever it struck. Again, under the impulse of the 
 hot steam that sent the heavy oil over the grates in a 
 vast spray, sharp detonations of flame and gas would 
 fill the whole resounding fire-room with blinding heat, 
 driving us huddlewise into corners with our hands over 
 our eyes. Into this inferno Rush took me, invested me 
 with some man's cast-off garments, showed me the 
 gauges, pointed out to me the pumps that must be 
 regulated. My sole companion, the oiler, he charged 
 with instructing me in my duties. 
 
 I imagine it must have been the excitement of it, 
 but we kept the steam up by awful exertions. We tore 
 back and forth like bedlamites, twisting great valves, 
 swinging on the big chains that raised and lowered the 
 dampers, watching the jumping needles that proclaimed 
 a temporary victory or imminent defeat. Suddenly 
 how, I can't explain we caught the trick of it. The 
 pumps worked smoothly. The great fountains of oil
 
 played steadily into the fires. The steam pressure rose 
 pound by pound. The throbs of the propellers in 
 creased, the deck under our feet shook to the vibrations 
 of the heavy engines. I and the oiler wiped the sweat 
 from our eyes and grinned vacuously at each other, like 
 a pair of idiots. 
 
 Hush appeared, his cold face lit with approval. " It 's 
 daylight, Doctor," he told me. " You 've done famously. 
 But you can't keep it up. Please go and see Captain 
 McLean and tell him to send my men down here. 
 Tell him if they don't come I '11 come up and get 
 them." 
 
 Instantly I felt my strength leave me. I was com 
 pletely exhausted. It was all I could do to scramble 
 out of the fire-room into the cool engine-hold, almost 
 too much for me to make my painful way to the deck. 
 Once there I stared round like a dazed man till the 
 skipper, catching sight of me, rushed down and cried: 
 " Where have you been ? What is the matter ? " 
 
 " I 've been in the fire-room," I told him with some 
 pride. " We 've kept the steam up. Mr. Rush says for 
 you to send him down his men." 
 
 McLean was very angry. My place was on deck 
 with the passengers, he said. What business had I 
 in the engine-room ? He would speak to the chief engi 
 neer about it ... preposterous . . . Was n't a man 
 to command his own ship ? . . . The engineer seemed 
 to think . . . 
 
 " But the men ? " I reminded him. " The steam will 
 go down."
 
 THEBADEGG 143 
 
 " I won't send the men back there," he said with sud 
 den decisiveness. 
 
 " But the engines will stop," I protested. McLean 
 stared at me. " That 's no business of yours," he said 
 sharply. 
 
 I remember my dismay. You see, I had been vio 
 lently active for hours, feeling that the steamer's safety 
 depended on my exertion. I had really got excited. 
 And to be told bluntly that all this was of no account, 
 that it did n't matter, flattened me out. I decided 
 quite justly that the skipper was crazy. 
 
 As I stood there, very likely with my mouth open 
 in my sooty face, Edith Halsey came up. " What has 
 happened ? " she demanded, drawing me apart from the 
 curious. 
 
 " The engines will stop," I told her. I tried to ex 
 plain and I am sure I let it out that I thought the 
 skipper had lost his mind. 
 
 " Is Mr. Eush all right ? " she asked presently. 
 
 "All right," I told her. Then I burst forth with 
 my inner thought. " I wish he were in command. 
 Then " 
 
 " Then we should all be saved ? " she finished for me. 
 "But they say he's a cruel, murderous man. They 
 say-" 
 
 It struck me that while I 'd been working, while 
 Rush had been keeping the machinery going, people 
 had been talking about him. Very likely McLean, with 
 nothing else to do, had blamed his chief engineer to 
 this girl. While Rush was standing down there on the
 
 144 ACROSS THE LATITUDES 
 
 platform with death breathing on him, they had been 
 talking scandal on deck. Our appalling plight sud 
 denly appeared to me in its clear colors. Here we 
 were, two hundred odd of us in the heart of the South 
 Pacific, on a steamer almost helpless, overhung with a 
 cloud of death, under the command of a man who 
 did n't know what to do, who talked petty scandal about 
 his chief engineer while half a dozen grinning mutineers 
 loafed on the after-deck under the awnings. There was 
 nothing to say. I shook my head dismally at Miss 
 Halsey. It didn't even seem worth while to justify 
 Rush. 
 
 While we stared at each other there was a shout from 
 forward. I saw the captain on the bridge grab his 
 glasses. A moment later the big gong clanged in the 
 engine-room. The vibration of the machinery ceased. 
 Rush appeared on deck, the oiler behind him. "What 's 
 the matter ? " he demanded of me. I shook my head. 
 
 The sun had been risen a couple of hours at most 
 and now shone upon us out of faint haze that whitened 
 it into a huge, silvery disk. The Princess Eugenia was 
 fast losing speed, and the sluggish rollers were heaving 
 under her quarter with sullen persistence. We saw the 
 passengers pour out of the saloon and run up till they 
 stood under the bridge. Somewhere a woman was cry 
 ing hysterically. Rush and I made our way forward. 
 The skipper, the chief officer beside him, was standing 
 rigidly by the rail staring ahead into a slight, reddish 
 mist. As no one paid any attention to us, Rush said 
 sharply : " Here we are, sir ! "
 
 THE BAD E.GG 145 
 
 McLean turned on us with a look of gentle surprise 
 on his face. He said : "I think we are at the end 
 of our course, Mr. Rush. Will you look ahead and 
 tell me what you see? Look, Doctor, if you will." 
 
 I can tell only what I saw myself. Lying low on 
 the water was a strange, smoky mist that seemed to 
 encircle us at a distance of about a mile. On the edge 
 of this floated a small schooner with her sails set. No 
 one was at her wheel, and the booms banged and slatted 
 to her every roll. That was all I saw. McLean's voice 
 in my ear said : " Do you see any signs of life ? " 
 
 That question answered any query you might have 
 put to us. There was no one alive on that pretty vessel. 
 The reddish mist was a poisonous emanation. The 
 shadow of death fell circlewise about us. To run into 
 it meant destruction. 
 
 I remember staring at the captain and then turn 
 ing and consulting the sea about us. On every side I 
 saw the gradually-lowering cloud of ruddy fog. Then 
 Rush spoke : " We are n't sure that this is it. Let 's 
 go ahead and see." 
 
 Some one caught the words below and there was a 
 tumult. A hoarse voice yelled : " We won't go ! " An 
 other answered with a fluent curse. There followed a 
 wild stamping of feet and, before McLean could leap 
 to the deck, those of the crew that could make it had 
 piled themselves into a boat and lowered it away with 
 a run. The chief officer leaped to the rail and pointed 
 a revolver at the men, but McLean called out : " Let 
 them go ! "
 
 146 ACROSS THE LATITUDES 
 
 Why did they do this ? Don't ask me. Panic, I sup 
 pose; the fear that comes over men who have labored 
 till their bodies are exhausted. And they floated there, 
 in a frail craft, a few hundred feet away from the 
 Princess, not knowing which way to go, what to do, 
 how to avoid sudden death. I counted them through 
 the glass. The six firemen were among them, half a 
 dozen of the steward's boys, a couple of sailors. Rush 
 leaned over my shoulder and said bitterly : " There go 
 our men. Let 's get them back." 
 
 " What for ? How ? " I demanded angrily. 
 
 My question, natural as it was, seemed to bring us 
 up all standing. McLean bore an expression of be 
 wilderment. The chief officer, revolver still in hand, 
 scowled at the crowding passengers. Rush stared at 
 us all. Then Edith Halsey appeared below us, fixing 
 her big dark eyes on the chief engineer. " Does this 
 end it ? " she asked in her full, low tones. 
 
 Rush turned his grim stare down on her. I can't 
 tell you how odd he looked in his charred clothes, his 
 face and arms sooty and scorched, his hair crisped at 
 the ends where the fire had seized on it. And yet as 
 the girl put this momentous question McLean, the mate, 
 myself, all of us, had to withdraw, so to speak, and 
 listen to our fate. Rush opened his lips briefly: 
 " They 're coming back to work." 
 
 And they came. I could n't tell you just how he did 
 it. But he brought them back. His voice carried far 
 out over them in strict commands. He directed them 
 in the very management of their oars, and like children
 
 THE BAD EGG 147 
 
 they answered the quiet assurance of the man and 
 scrambled back on deck, swearing at each other. He 
 herded them down into the stokehold. 
 
 Half an hour later we looked up at the funnels and 
 saw fresh volumes of black smoke pouring out to mingle 
 with the almost imperceptible shadow that hung over 
 the Princess. Then the sun reached the meridian, 
 descended the western sky, sank into the sea. Still we 
 did n't move. The colors changed swiftly in the sky. 
 Darkness came. And we saw something that horrified 
 us. The schooner showed two lights, the red and the 
 green. They twinkled out from the invisible cloud 
 with a message of routine method, of regular, unques 
 tioning obedience to the law that rules the traffic of 
 the seas. 
 
 " There 's some one alive on that vessel," said 
 McLean. 
 
 But the mate would n't believe it. " They were 
 caught by the poison last night," he said. " Those lights 
 have burned all day. There was nobody to put them 
 out this morning." 
 
 An hour later Rush reappeared to ask what the cap 
 tain intended to do. McLean did n't know. " Possibly 
 . . . the passengers, you see . . . great responsibility 
 ... in fact . . . ." The skipper mouthed mere 
 phrases that signified nothing but a perturbed mind. 
 Rush touched me on the arm as he passed back and 
 said : " Come down and help me. I want to tell you 
 something." 
 
 The engine-room seemed strangely dark and silent
 
 148 ACROSS THE LATITUDES 
 
 as we descended into it. Rush had hung lanterns here 
 and there where a ghostly gleam could fall on some 
 steel face, or throw the huge shadow of a pillar against 
 the darkness. At the working platform he stopped and 
 we gazed up at the stolid dials of the gauges and tele 
 graph signals. Then Rush began : " McLean does n't 
 know what he is doing. We 've been close to losing our 
 crew this day and we 're a good week's sail from any 
 where. I 'm the only man left on this ship that can 
 even start these engines. Whuff ! and I 'm gone ! Then, 
 man, this ship will rot before anybody finds her. This 
 is no time for dallying. This is the time to be moving 
 along and out of this sea. Go and tell the skipper what 
 I say, Doctor." 
 
 I started to answer him when I was aware of another 
 with us. I peered up the steel ladder and saw Edith 
 Halsey standing there, one white arm outstretched on 
 the hand-rail. Rush caught sight of her at the same 
 time and gave utterance to a groan. 
 
 " I came down to see whether I could n't help you," 
 she said quietly. 
 
 " You ! " Rush burst out. " Are n't there any men 
 left on this ship ? " 
 
 I discerned the shadow of a smile on her face. She 
 looked directly down into the engineer's eyes while she 
 simply answered : " None but yourself, Mr. Rush." 
 
 " This is no place for you," he stammered. "You 
 might you might get hurt." 
 
 She refused to listen, but repeated : " Is there any 
 thing I can do ? "
 
 THEBADEGG 149 
 
 " She might go and tell the captain what you say," 
 I suggested stupidly, and to my astonishment she ac 
 cepted the mission instantly. We watched her go 
 swiftly back up the steps. Then Rush went on into 
 the fire-room. 
 
 Miss Halsey returned in a few minutes and stopped 
 on the platform beside me in evident excitement. She 
 demanded to know where Rush was. I told her and 
 led the way down and forward into the fire-room. As 
 I opened the door Rush came toward it, the glow of 
 the fires red on his face. He motioned Miss Halsey 
 back, in alarmed solicitous fashion, but she paid no 
 heed to him. " The captain is afraid," she announced 
 quietly. " He is afraid of the mist ahead of us. He 
 thinks we had better wait." 
 
 Rush would have answered, but the men behind him 
 shuffled up menacingly. One of them growled : " We 
 don't stay down here any longer. We 're hungry and 
 we 're tired. We quit right here." 
 
 Involuntarily, I suppose, Miss Halsey and I ranged 
 ourselves with the engineer in front of the only exit. 
 Rush's face showed a moment's worry. " You men 
 will stay here and work," he said, above the roar of 
 the boilers. " I '11 kill the first man that refuses duty ! " 
 
 They backed off, but we heard their protests: 
 " The skipper would n't stand for having them abused. 
 Enough of them had died already. The ship was being 
 abandoned. They would go on deck." 
 
 On the eve of their onset Rush backed firmly against 
 the iron door and thrust a revolver out toward them.
 
 150 ACROSS THE LATITUDES 
 
 " I 'm running this engine-room," he told them coldly. 
 " The man that does n't get back to his work is a dead 
 one." And while they hung in the wind he turned to 
 Edith again. " I 've got plenty of steam up," he said. 
 " We could get a good sixteen knots out of her now if 
 McLean would only make up his mind and run for 
 it." His eyes carried a message of helplessness. 
 
 She balanced herself on the reeling plates, ignoring 
 utterly the grumbling crew. A smile lit up her face. 
 " I said to myself that you were the only man left on 
 the ship," she said. " It 's true." 
 
 He returned her smile. " That 's nicely said, Miss 
 Halsey. And I know what they 've been telling about 
 me up on deck. I kill men when it 's necessary. I 'm 
 the original devil, that 's what I am. McLean 's all 
 right, but he 's not up to his work. He 's thinking of 
 the company, of the passengers, of the people ashore 
 who '11 want to know all about it." 
 
 " Whom are you thinking of ? " she demanded. 
 
 A shrill cry from the hold pierced through the murk. 
 
 A man staggered out, swinging back and forth to the 
 roll of the steamer, sought for some handhold, choked 
 horribly and fell. While I bent over him I heard 
 Rush's unshaken voice say : " I 'm thinking of you. 
 Say the word, and I '11 save you." 
 
 " Why ? " I heard her ask breathlessly. 
 
 " Because I want you," he answered. " All my life 
 I Ve tried to find a woman worth my while. I 'm a 
 brute and I 'm down in the books for all sorts of things. 
 But that doesn't matter now, Edith. I love you."
 
 THEBADEGG 151 
 
 The man on the deck slowly got his breath and I 
 helped him to his feet. Possibly I missed something 
 they said to each other. But as the men once more 
 surged forward, this time mad with pain and fear, she 
 jerked the revolver out of Rush's hand, drove it into the 
 very mouth of the leader of the mutineers and said: 
 " The man that wants to die, come on." She turned 
 her dark eyes on the chief engineer. " I 'm going to 
 do it," she told him. " You start the engines. I '11 
 keep these fellows at work." 
 
 Without a moment's hesitation he passed her and 
 adjusted a valve. Then he opened the drafts wide and 
 motioned to the men to get to work. You would have 
 thought he would have had something to say, but he 
 merely gazed round at us all and then, taking my arm, 
 opened the engine-room door. As we went out he said, 
 over his shoulder : " I leave them to you. I '11 do my 
 part." And she answered him with a pitiful look of 
 obedience. 
 
 I can see him yet swaying easily over the many ob 
 structions till he came to a halt under the big signal 
 dial that marked the orders from the bridge. It pointed 
 still to STOP. He looked at it and then reached up with 
 a determined gesture and put the lever over to full 
 speed ahead. There was a clashing of gongs about us 
 and slowly the engines rose and started on their toil 
 with flash of steel and hiss of steam, as he opened the 
 big overhead valve. 
 
 Almost immediately the indicator traveled back to 
 STOP and the gongs clamored again. McLean was on
 
 152 ACROSS THE LATITUDES 
 
 the bridge. But Rush refused to answer the command 
 in kind and jammed the indicator over to full speed 
 ahead once more. The engines picked up their gait, 
 and we felt the big steamer surge slowly along through 
 the water. 
 
 Still again the gongs yelled at us their imperative 
 message to stop. Again Rush deliberately thrust the 
 answering lever back to full speed ahead. Then he 
 turned on me and smiled. " Doctor, suppose you go 
 in and help Miss Halsey keep the fires going. You 
 know a little about it. If the men balk, you know what 
 to do. We '11 need all the steam we can get." 
 
 Miss Halsey had picked up a dirty jacket discarded 
 by some choking stoker and stood in the midst of the 
 toiling men with unconcerned eyes on the gauges. The 
 heat tossed her hair about her forehead and scorched 
 her cheeks. A puff of carbon burned the hem of her 
 skirt away. But she paid no attention to it. Now and 
 then she would look straight into the eyes of some hulk 
 ing fireman, and the man would fall to his work again 
 with an expression of puzzled subjection. 
 
 Rush came in after a while and gave calm directions 
 and orders. He did n't exchange a word with the girl 
 about her being there, offer her sympathy or thanks. 
 As he went back to his engines I caught him by the 
 sleeve and remonstrated with him for allowing her to 
 stay longer down there. " She 's all right," he said 
 gruffly. " She 's helping. But " he paused a mo 
 ment considerately and went on, " but if she dies, 
 call me."
 
 THEBADEGG 153 
 
 A moment later Miss Halsey came over to me and 
 said: "What did he say?" 
 
 "He said for me to call him if you if you were 
 taken ill," I told her. 
 
 Her eyes shone and I saw the gentleness of her pro 
 file as she turned away. I thought I heard her say, 
 " God help the man's sweetheart ! " but I was n't sure. 
 
 I can't tell you what was doing on deck all this while 
 except as I heard about it afterward. It seems that 
 McLean finally acquiesced in the maneuver so mutin 
 ously forced on him by Rush, and took the wheel 
 himself. In fact, he straightened the Princess out just 
 in time to avoid running down the schooner. The mate 
 told me they looked down on her decks and saw white 
 faces staring up at them through the darkness, the faces 
 of her dead crew. Then McLean fell over, choking, and 
 died, with one foot caught in the grating on which he 
 had been standing. 
 
 Down in the fire-room we knew nothing of the dawn. 
 Miss Halsey was still standing among us, still vigilant, 
 though scorched, grimy, her eyes circled by great rings 
 of soot. The steam gauges registered fifty pounds 
 the best we could do. The clock marked six o'clock 
 when Rush looked in on us, gave a hand on the chain 
 that raised the heavy draft-shutters, stood a moment 
 silently staring at the girl and was going out again. 
 Suddenly we heard cries on deck, the sound of them 
 floating down to us through the lofty gratings. Miss 
 Halsey dropped her revolver, for the cries were of joy, 
 of relief, and down through the ventilators came a faint,
 
 154 ACROSS THE LATITUDES 
 
 delicious draft of air, bearing the scent of the fresh, 
 open sea, of leagues of frothing waves, the sharp odor 
 of pure winds. Rush smiled. " It 's all right now. 
 The breeze is freshening." He picked up the revolver 
 and dismissed Miss Halsey and myself with a curt 
 " That will do for you two." 
 
 Two hours later the Princess Eugenia was once more 
 trim and in such order as the crew and volunteers from 
 the passengers could put her. The captain had been 
 buried and the chief officer was in command. The 
 steward made his little force do double duty, and under 
 a fresh, blowy sky we were pursuing our feeble way 
 down to port under what steam we could keep in the 
 boilers. 
 
 Among the first to revive and resume an interest in 
 daily life was Mary Russell. She dried her tears and 
 came down to luncheon. On her way she passed Rush, 
 grimy as ever, white with exhaustion under the soot, 
 clad in filthy rags of uniform, altogether a dull sight 
 and a reminder that the ship had suffered. She stopped 
 to speak to him. " Why don't you clean up ? " she 
 demanded, with a frown. Rush stared and laughed, 
 but he didn't answer; merely turned back to his 
 engines. 
 
 Close behind Miss Russell, Edith Halsey entered the 
 saloon. She was freshly gowned, trim, serene. Telltale 
 blisters on her slim hands, scorched flush on her cheeks, 
 curled eyelashes, crisped hair alone told her experience. 
 And when she came in all the men looked up and 
 smiled and called out greetings, openly recognizing that
 
 THEBADEGG 155 
 
 what she had done for them all was known and priced 
 at its high value. She responded quietly, her great dark 
 eyes fixed on the distance in a profound and inscrutable 
 expression of sorrow, of some sort of suffering. She 
 ate sparingly and was soon away. 
 
 Luncheon over I was master of ceremonies at that 
 meal we left the saloon for the deck, climbing up the 
 big stairways with jests and laughter. But as we 
 emerged on deck we came fairly upon Rush and Miss 
 Halsey. He stood on both feet, in his filth and grime, 
 leaning against nothing, his hands clasping nothing, 
 like a man ready to fight. Before him the girl stood, 
 looking at him with her full, intense gaze. A little 
 apart Mary Russell crouched in a chair, her chin in 
 her hand and her scared eyes fixed on them both. 
 
 " I don't care how dirty you are," Miss Halsey was 
 saying slowly. " I know what you 've done and I want 
 to be fair to you. While the rest of us are enjoying our 
 selves you are still at work seeing to it that we get to 
 our destination. But while I respect you for that, I 
 wish you to understand distinctly that your attentions 
 and your presumption are distasteful, Mr. Rush." 
 
 " But you were anxious enough to share my watch 
 with me," he returned, in apparent perplexity. 
 
 " I thought I ought to do my part," she replied, 
 biting her lip. " And you told me that you would save 
 the ship if I would help you. I '11 admit," she went on 
 hastily, " that you meant to offer me your affection and 
 that I allowed you to think that I might accept it. But 
 I did it I did it to save us all ! "
 
 " I see," he said. " As long as you were afraid for 
 your own pretty life, you hunted up the only man on 
 the ship that you thought could save it for you, the only 
 man with wit and nerve to go ahead and pull the ship 
 through. And when he 's done it, you turn up your 
 nose and confess that you led him on just to save your 
 self. Now, Miss Halsey, I want you to understand that 
 I usually get what I want. I ain't afraid, either, as you 
 know." 
 
 She waved us back with an almost imperceptible 
 gesture. " I did n't intend to say what I 'm going 
 to say now," she answered bravely enough. " You are 
 a coward. You are a murderer and a thief and a liar. 
 Because you are in a position of authority, and because 
 your passions have rein over your subordinates, you 
 play the man. You have killed. You have lied. You 
 have even made me offer myself as the price of your 
 saving the ship, the great price, Mr. Rush, of becoming 
 your wife. But I know that you are a coward. If you 
 were a stoker like the poor fellow you shot, you would 
 have been sniveling on the deck, cursing your officers, 
 afraid for your poor, worthless life. Being the chief 
 engineer you have done your duty, no more than your 
 duty, because it gave you a chance, you thought, to buy 
 a woman, and allow your cruelty and your lying to 
 have some little glory all of their own. Oh ! " she cried 
 out softly, "to think that you are such a coward ! " 
 
 The man's sooty face became almost chalk-white. He 
 drew back a step, curling his lip like an angry dog. 
 All his arrogance had changed into rage. " I '11 show
 
 THEBADEGG 157 
 
 you who 's the coward," he said violently. " I '11 show 
 you, my fair lady, just " 
 
 Some one should long before have closed the rascal's 
 mouth; but we were still under the spell of his arro 
 gance, you understand. We had n't forgot the brilliancy 
 of his achievement. It remained for Edith Halsey's 
 father, red-faced, breathing heavily, to push forward 
 and strike him full in the mouth. " Get back to your 
 machinery ! " he roared at him. " If you dare to ad 
 dress another word to my daughter I '11 kill you ! " 
 
 The fellow's temporary ascendency over us vanished 
 like a soap bubble. He did n't even try to reply, but 
 slunk off, muttering to himself, craven, shaking with 
 impotent rage, all the structure of his insolence and 
 his bravado crumbled about his shoulders by old man 
 Halsey's clean wrath. Really, you see, spite of his 
 doing a big thing, the man was a bad egg. So, having 
 done that thing, he was thrust back from the company 
 of his betters, once more a known scoundrel, infamous, 
 mean, contemptible. Yet Providence, juster than men, 
 rewarded him with the affection of Mary Russell. She 
 married him in Auckland. To start her off in her new 
 life happily the passengers presented her with a splen 
 didly-engrossed memorial, stating in fine words that 
 Edward Rush was a hero and had saved life on the 
 high seas. Among the first signatures was that of Edith 
 Halsey, who thus proudly abjured her great share in the 
 good works of a thoroughly bad egg.
 
 NEIGHBORS 
 
 ROBERT TALBOT, of the Taloot Navigation Company, 
 leaned back in his office chair and looked steadily at the 
 captain of the schooner Suisun. " Watson," he said 
 abruptly, " how do you get along with the sailors' 
 union ? " 
 
 Watson hung his cap over one knee and leaned back, 
 too. " I 've never run foul of the union yet," he 
 answered. " You see, it pays most of its attention to 
 the steamers. Of course I have a union crew, but I 've 
 never had any trouble." 
 
 " What do you think of it, anyway ? " Talbot con 
 tinued. 
 
 " I don't know," was the reply. " You see, I never 
 got mixed up with it. But I reckon it 's a mighty good 
 thing for the men. Wages have just doubled, and that 
 means better sailors. But I don't know as I have any 
 particular opinion about the union as a union." 
 
 The owner of the Suisun sat deep in thought for a 
 while. When he spoke it was with decision. " Our 
 line has never had any trouble with the union," he said 
 curtly. " We 've never had any difficulties at all with 
 the men, as you know. Our employees have been well 
 treated and they Ve reciprocated, I must say. But 
 trouble has come. You know how freights are now
 
 NEIGHBORS 159 
 
 'way down. In the two years you 've had the Suisun 
 you 've probably figured for yourself that there 's 
 mighty little money in lumber. And lumber makes the 
 market. Our little profit in carrying it comes from 
 handling the cargo ourselves with the ship's crew. The 
 union has said we sha'n't do it any more, and that we 
 shall employ longshoremen for all loading or stowing. 
 You know that usually we load lumber with the crew 
 and pay them time and a half for it. But we 've never 
 paid time and a half for putting on the deck load and 
 we can't afford to. It means running our vessels at a 
 dead loss. We can't stand for it, Watson." 
 
 The skipper pondered this and then cast a shrewd eye 
 on his chief. " We never have done much lumber carry 
 ing, sir," he suggested. " Our line has always gone 
 its own way. I can see how that new demand from the 
 union hits the big companies hard, but why don't they 
 fight their own battle ? It 's really none of our concern, 
 Mr. Talbot, for you don't take lumber charters twice 
 a year. Why does the Talbot line have to stand for 
 the first struggle and the hottest row ? For it '11 be a 
 hot row. The union is wise and would n't run the risk 
 of losing much for little unless they thought they could 
 put it through. Why, they 've got to win, or else they 're 
 up against it. And why are we shoved in right in front 
 to take the first licks ? " 
 
 Talbot's face darkened at his captain's frank speech. 
 " I may as well say that it 's just because we 've always 
 stood apart that we 've got to do the hard work now," 
 he remarked grimly. " The big fellows can afford to
 
 hold off and fight and lay their ships up. We can't, and 
 they know it, and so we've been picked out to start the 
 ball. See ? We Ve always been friendly with the 
 union, but the shipowners have us cornered. If we go 
 with the union we can't make a cent, for the big com 
 panies will shove freights down to zero, and we '11 be 
 frozen out of all our trade. So we 've got to fight the 
 union and do it alone, too, Watson, for a while." 
 
 " It is n't fair," Watson said bluntly. " It 'a a skin 
 game." 
 
 " It 's fair so far as fighting the union, Watson," 
 Talbot returned. " It 's true that their demands have 
 got to be put a stop to somewhere. They are getting 
 outrageous. We 've got to be able to run our own busi 
 ness. But it is n't fair for the McBeths and the B. & H. 
 people to stand out and shove the Talbot line into a 
 fight for existence when we are n't directly concerned. 
 But I suppose we must all hang together. The men 
 stick to the union and the owners must stick to the 
 association. But what I want to know is, do you think 
 you can keep the Suisun going ? She 's under charter to 
 take lumber out of the Columbia River to San Pedro. 
 She '11 carry a good million feet if you stow the deck 
 load properly." 
 
 Watson nodded. " I see the point. We load at the 
 mill and then drop down to another mill for a deck 
 load, which will be dumped aboard and stowed by 
 my crew. And the union says " 
 
 " The union says that the vessel's crew sha'n't touch 
 a stick of cargo in port, and out of port not unless they
 
 NEIGHBORS 161 
 
 are paid time and a half. We can't afford to pay time 
 and a half, captain." 
 
 There was a silence, broken when the Suisun's mas 
 ter remarked, with a chill light in his blue eyes, " This 
 is October. Nasty weather ahead. I hate to take a 
 vessel to sea with the cargo ill stowed. But if I try to 
 force the crew into stowing it from the slings they '11 
 walk off, and we 're out a crew and probably can't get 
 another. If I sail with the lashings off it means a 
 good bit of risk before I can persuade 'em to work with 
 out time and a half." 
 
 The owner's eyes met the captain's. " Do you think 
 you can persuade them ? " Talbot inquired. 
 
 Watson's eyes grew chillier than before. He rose. 
 " I '11 try," he said coldly. " And if they mutiny, why, 
 I 've been in mutinies in my time." 
 
 " I don't want " Talbot began, and stopped under 
 the quizzical glance of his subordinate. 
 
 " I know what you don't want," that individual re 
 turned half humorously. " But if this pudding has got 
 to be eaten it 's got to be served hot." He put his cap 
 on. " I 'm a man of peace," he added, almost savagely. 
 " I like quiet aft and no grumbling forward. But 
 orders are orders, and if you say fight the union, why, 
 fight it is. I '11 engage a tug for to-morrow, sir." He 
 opened the door, letting in the roar of San Francisco, 
 looked back with a glance of reassurance, closed the 
 door, and left Talbot to stare into vacancy and murmur : 
 " I hate this business always friendly with our men 
 What will it end in, anyway ? "
 
 162 ACROSS THE LATITUDES 
 
 Vacancy refusing to answer, he plunged wearily into 
 his mail. 
 
 Not many blocks distant from the office of the Talbot 
 Navigation Company six men sat in a rather rudely- 
 furnished room listening to a tall, stoop-shouldered 
 enthusiast whose shrill voice rose and fell with the 
 swing of a speaker used to addressing small audiences. 
 " They 've all joined together to lick us," he was saying. 
 " Every company on the coast has agreed to fight us 
 to a standstill on this time-and-a-half business. The 
 McBeth people and the B. & H. line say they '11 tie 
 their boats up indefinitely, and you know what that 
 means forty-odd vessels not needing crews, and in 
 creased assessments for you boys that are still at work. 
 But all this time has been under cover. They have n't 
 made no answer to the union's demand. They ain't said 
 a word to show whether they 're goin' to come through 
 or not. But I know : it 's all cut and dried. They 've 
 picked out the Talbots to stand us off for a while. The 
 Talbot line has always been fair, and everybody on the 
 water-front knows it. So if they get the Talbots into 
 line against us they get more 'n a few vessels : they get 
 public sympathy, and that 's a heap. And I know their 
 scheme, too. They 're goin' to bring us up against time 
 and a half on a Talbot boat and see if we 've got the 
 nerve to stick to it even when our friends is in a pinch. 
 
 " Boys, we gotta get in and fight. This ain't a ques 
 tion of friends and it ain't no question of Talbots, 
 either ; it 's a question of the union. This ain't no 
 picnic. This is war. And we gotta win." His voice
 
 NEIGHBORS 163 
 
 dropped suddenly and he became businesslike. " The 
 Suisun has asked for a crew this afternoon and to 
 morrow she sails for the Columbia River for lumber. 
 You 're the crew. I 've picked you boys out because 
 I know you and I can trust you to hold up your end. 
 Nobody can't say that you ain't a good, competent crew 
 and all family men livin' right here in the city. The 
 big owners are all the time throwin' it up to us that 
 our men ain't citizens and don't pay no taxes or have 
 families or live in houses. That talk won't go this 
 time. You men have all got wives and children in this 
 man's town and you pay taxes. Now you just go and 
 show the Talbots that nobody can run schooners and 
 steamers on this coast and walk over the workingman 
 that earns 'em their profits and looks out after his own 
 kin as well." He stopped and looked at them. 
 
 The six men glanced at one another steadily, without 
 moving a muscle of their faces. Then one of them said : 
 " Watson is master of the Suisun." 
 
 They digested this remark before another added: 
 " He 's an awful hard man. I sailed with him once 
 deep water. He never stood no nonsense." 
 
 " I 've heard he was a hard man at sea," said a third. 
 " I never sailed with him. We 're neighbors. I live 
 next door to him. My wife knows his wife." 
 
 Their director's sour looks recalled them. " That 
 ain't the question," he told them. " This is a question 
 of the union. No man can stand in the face of the 
 union, and Watson has got to knuckle under. If he 
 gets away with you, boys, and you turn to and work
 
 cargo for him, then you 've undone the work that we Ve 
 been doin' for ten years, and your wages '11 drop, and 
 it won't be banks for you nor money for your wives, but 
 back to the old wet dog's life and hell ashore. Now you 
 boys had better be gettin' down to the Commissioner's 
 and signin' on." He dismissed them with a wave of 
 his hand and turned back to a desk where he sat him 
 down, a lean, gaunt, ill-kempt man whose gnarled fin 
 gers bore evidence to years of harsh toil. The sailors 
 filed out, a steady-looking lot, sturdy-legged, neatly- 
 clothed, bronze-faced, carrying themselves with dignity 
 as befitted the representatives of the great Sailors' 
 Union of the Pacific. 
 
 On the sidewalk they halted awkwardly till one of 
 them said : " Oh, we don't want a drink. Let 's go and 
 ship. I 've said my good-by to the old woman and the 
 kids." 
 
 " That 's right," said another. " I said mine, too ; 
 but if any of you mates has to go home for a minute, 
 why, I 'm for waiting." A glance round brought head- 
 shakings. " All set," then said the speaker. " Let 's 
 go down and get to work." 
 
 The next day, walking back and forth on the quarter 
 deck of the Suisun, Watson carefully surveyed the crew 
 and nodded approvingly to his first mate. " That 's the 
 smartest lot ever sailed with me," he briefly commented. 
 
 " Good men," the mate agreed. " But what gets me, 
 captain, is why are they here ? Higgins has been bos'n 
 of the Elder for several trips, drawing good, fat wages. 
 Smith has been working 'long shore for the union at
 
 NEIGHBORS 165 
 
 Seattle, and Oleson was secretary of the Oakland local. 
 What are all these first-class men doing here on the 
 Suisun? " 
 
 Watson's frosty eyes met his officer's. " I 'm not 
 worrying my head about that," he remarked. " Get 
 that hawser flaked down and then set the spinnaker, 
 Mr. Martin." 
 
 Three days later the Suisun crossed into the Columbia 
 after one of the fastest passages on record, was picked up 
 by a towboat, and within forty-eight hours was lying 
 by a sawmill wharf, ballast out and lumber swinging in. 
 Watson put the crew to bending new and stronger sails 
 and clearing the decks for the top cargo. When the 
 hatches were on the Suisun was again picked up by a 
 huge sternwheeler and taken into the lower Columbia and 
 to a wharf jutting out at the foot of a lofty green cliff. 
 
 Watson called the mate. " We '11 take on one hun 
 dred and fifty thousand feet here on deck," he stated. 
 " Set the crew to stowing it as it comes aboard in the 
 slings, Mr. Martin." 
 
 Half an hour later Martin stuck his head into the 
 captain's berth and said : " Crew refuses to handle 
 cargo, sir. Says it 's against union rules." 
 
 Watson laid down his book and followed his chief 
 officer on deck. His quick eye caught a sling of yellow 
 lumber swinging idly above the deck and two or three 
 men looking curiously down from the wharf. The man 
 ager of the mill was gesticulating to attract his atten 
 tion. " We 're ready to deliver you your cargo," he 
 called down. " Are you ready to receive it ? "
 
 " Lower away ! " Watson commanded, and then 
 glanced at his crew, gathered closely about the foremast. 
 He looked up again to the mill manager. " Send the 
 stuff aboard as fast as you can," he told him. " We '11 
 handle it." He turned to his crew, walking slowly 
 toward them. " I understand that you refuse duty. I 
 know why, and I won't beat about the bush. Your 
 union has made a demand on Talbot & Co. to pay time 
 and a half for such work or else hire longshoremen. 
 There are no longshoremen here, and the mill, of course, 
 is only concerned in getting the stuff off the wharf. 
 The ship will not pay time and a half. Just consider 
 that settled Mr. Martin, cast off that sling and turn 
 the men to stowing." He stared at them all masterfully 
 and went back to his cabin. 
 
 Inside of five minutes the mate was in the cabin, 
 boiling with rage. " They refuse duty," he roared. 
 " Sassed me to my face ! What '11 I do ? " 
 
 Watson closed his book again. " I see," he remarked 
 calmly. " Mr. Martin, we can't do anything at present. 
 I don't want to lose my crew. We've got to get that 
 deck load aboard some way. We won't stow it at pres 
 ent. Just dump the slings as best you can. The men 
 can't refuse to unhook the slings." 
 
 Martin glared at his superior with open mouth, 
 seemed about to say something, thought better of it, and 
 retired. Almost immediately a loud thump told the 
 captain that a second slingful had reached the deck. 
 
 All day long the lumber piled up on the long deck of 
 the schooner, at first in some order, owing to the agility
 
 NEIGHBORS 167 
 
 and angry industry of the two mates, then in a disorder 
 that reached ten feet up the mainmast, overflowed the 
 little half deck, and generally made the neat 8uisun 
 look like the slab-pile from the mill. Watson at various 
 times surveyed it without remark and, to the somewhat 
 acrid comments of the mill manager, made the single 
 reply that Talbot & Co. had contracted to deliver so 
 many feet of lumber to San Pedro in good order and 
 that it was nobody's business how it was done. " Finish 
 us up to-night," he concluded. 
 
 So at sundown they hung big lusters along the wharf's 
 edge and the slings of lumber still swung down upon the 
 unwieldy mass on deck. At midnight Watson went 
 ashore and receipted for one hundred and fifty thousand 
 feet, and the crew, retiring to their quarters, puffed 
 quiet pipes and nodded to each other. " He '11 try and 
 make us restow it when we 're out of the river," said 
 Smith, wiping his mustache with a huge hand. 
 
 " And we'll ask for time and a half," Oleson added, 
 with a wag of his flaxen head. 
 
 "And he won't give it," Smith went on. "He'll 
 find himself at sea with his decks in awful shape. He '11 
 have to give in. He dassent run her down with this 
 stuff in such shape. We '11 see." 
 
 " I live next door to him in 'Frisco," Higgins said 
 irrelevantly. " My wife knows his wife." 
 
 " I rec'lect when I never had a home, and the old 
 woman used to live in one room, and when I was gone 
 pretty long she 'd have to go down to the office and sit 
 around two hours to beg five dollars advance out of my
 
 168 ACROSS THE LATITUDES 
 
 wages to buy grub with," Smith ruminated. " Them 
 days I got twenty-six dollars a month and all days in 
 port mostly docked. Then the union came, and last 
 month I drew down eighty-seven dollars. It went into 
 the bank." 
 
 Oleson suddenly laughed loudly. " I put one hundred 
 and twenty dollars in the savings-bank last month," he 
 said, opening his mouth in a vast grin. " And my girl 
 is in school." 
 
 From the shadows of the fo'c's'le came another voice, 
 full and powerful. " And the companies are trying to 
 break up the union," it announced. " Watson thinks 
 we 're goin' to knuckle under to him when this hooker 
 gets to sea. Wha 'd they think we are, anyway ? Ain't 
 we got sense ? " 
 
 " I live next door to Watson in the city," Higgins 
 repeated meditatively. " He 's building a new house 
 out in Sunset addition. That 's where all his money 
 goes, his old woman told mine. He 's a neighbor o' mine. 
 But, of course, he 's run up against the union this time. 
 They- say he's a hard man." 
 
 They considered this solemnly, gazing out over the 
 inconglomerate lumber to the wet stars above the hill, 
 thinking of all the ships they had known, of the hard 
 skippers, the bucko mates, the cruel sea, the centuries 
 of sailors who had starved and toiled and died un 
 rewarded and unfriended and homeless. And from 
 one and then another came the muttered words, " the 
 union," as they climbed into their bunks and turned 
 their stern faces to the dingy planks above them.
 
 NEIGHBORS 169 
 
 One day sufficed to get the Suisun into Astoria and 
 cleared for San Pedro. A tug swept alongside and 
 passed a hawser, the mate left the forecastle head and 
 climbed back to the poop over the unkempt deck load. 
 The schooner headed round against the flood tide and 
 for the open sea. 
 
 While the bar threatened them for a quarter of an 
 hour Watson watched the lumber on deck and imper 
 ceptibly shook his head. His clear eyes met the mate's. 
 " It won't last long," he remarked. But they finally 
 got across without mishap and out upon the long, sullen 
 rollers of the Pacific. The tug cast off, rounded to, 
 whistled farewell and dived back into port. Watson 
 steadied his vessel on an easy course westward while 
 the crew set the topsails. As he steered he flashed un 
 readable glances at the dull-gray southern sky. 
 
 When all was snug Watson turned the wheel over to 
 the mate and walked forward to the break of the poop. 
 Standing there he called loudly : " Smith ! Oleson ! 
 JTiggins ! " 
 
 They answered and struggled aft over the almost 
 impassable deck load till they stood on a level with the 
 captain. Watson commenced abruptly. " This deck 
 load must be stowed and lashed shipshape," he said 
 quietly. " It 's all right for the union to try to hold the 
 ship up in port. But we 're at sea now, and I don't 
 intend to stand for any monkey business. You star 
 board watch turn to now and do your trick at it. When 
 the port watch relieves you they '11 bear a hand." 
 
 There followed silence. Oleson spoke up. " The
 
 170 ACROSS THE LATITUDES 
 
 union won't stand for it," he said boldly. " We can't 
 do it." 
 
 Watson's chill glance rested on the big Scandinavian 
 a fraction of a second. " You men understand that I 'm 
 not asking you to load ship. That 's the business of the 
 union and the owners, I suppose. I 'm demanding that 
 you do your watch on deck, and during your watch do 
 exactly what I or Mr. Martin direct you to do. If you 
 refuse " He stopped short. 
 
 Oleson's blue eyes met the captain's steadily. " This 
 is a trick," he answered firmly. " We can't stow that 
 cargo unless the ship pays us time and a half, same as 
 the rules say." 
 
 Watson glanced at the southern sky a moment and 
 then turned an undaunted face on the three men. He 
 swung on his heel. " Mr. Martin," he said formally, 
 " put a hand at the wheel and turn the other two men 
 of your watch to stowing that lumber. We '11 have it 
 overside if we don't look sharp." 
 
 Martin slung himself across the little interval between 
 poop and deck load and cried out an order. Higgins 
 clambered aft and took the wheel, in response to it. 
 Again the mate yelled, and this time the other two men 
 shook their heads, though with a hint of respect in their 
 attitudes. Martin stared at their failure to respond and 
 bawled once more : " Clear that lumber away from the 
 pumps and stow it on the starboard side." 
 
 Smith and Oleson calmly turned their backs and 
 started forward without a word. The mate snatched a 
 belaying pin from the rack and started after them.
 
 NEIGHBORS 171 
 
 Watson called him sharply back. " None of that, Mr. 
 Martin!" he said severely. "The men will come to 
 their senses before long." 
 
 "But that stuff is working round already," the dis 
 gusted officer grumbled. " And one good souse will 
 skihoot the whole lubberly mixture into the water." 
 
 " The hands will come to their senses after a while," 
 repeated the captain. 
 
 Mr. Martin ended his watch on deck, was duly relieved 
 by the second mate and went below. A moment later he 
 reappeared, this time with an expression of intense dis 
 satisfaction on his face. " D 'ye know what the ba 
 rometer is doing ? " he demanded of his junior. " No ? 
 Well, it 'a dropping a tenth an hour, that 's what it 's 
 doing. And before long, m' son, it '11 be blowing like 
 billy, and our main deck is a clutter of lumber that 'ud 
 make any self-respecting seafaring man sick at his 
 tummy. Oh, this is a sweet voyage and a sweet crew ! " 
 He glowered at the helmsman and retired again. 
 
 At sundown Watson refused to acquiesce in the mate's 
 suggestion that they take advantage of the east wind and 
 put south. " We 're not far enough off shore," he told 
 him quietly. " This storm may break out of the 
 sou'west, and unless we 've got a good offing we 're up 
 against it." 
 
 " We '11 lose our deck load first shot," said the 
 despairing mate. " The bulwarks are edging and start 
 ing now when it sags down on 'em." 
 
 Watson stared out into the darkness. " See whether 
 the crew are ready to turn to and stow it," he said.
 
 172 ACROSS THE LATITUDES 
 
 Mr. Martin dived forward and stuck his head in at 
 the fo'c's'le doorway. " Say, you men, pile out and 
 stow that lumber ! " he bellowed. " Wind 's rising and 
 sea 's getting up ! Come ! Hustle out here and get 
 busy!" 
 
 Higgins emerged into the light that streamed from 
 the big lantern swung from a beam. " Will the ship 
 pay time and a half, sir ? " he asked civilly. 
 
 The mate's fists clenched, but the sailor's calmness 
 showed him that this was no time for a trial of physical 
 prowess. He tried to argue. Higgins, reenforced by 
 Oleson, shook his head. " The union won't let us stow 
 that stuff unless we get time and a half," said Oleson. 
 
 " All right ! " yelled the mate in a fury. " Don't, 
 then ! Drown, like the rats you are ! " He clambered 
 aft, swearing fiercely. 
 
 To Watson he snarled : " Your crew ought to have 
 sugar to eat with their cake I 'd sugar 'em ! " 
 
 " They still refuse to work that stuff ? " the captain 
 inquired coolly. " All right. They '11 come to their 
 senses after a while. Stow your tops'ls, Mr. Martin." 
 
 The darkness in which the crew worked was broken 
 by flashes of lightning before the task was completed. 
 A squall laid the poorly-laden Suisun far over, and the 
 men cursed roundly as they scrambled for their footing 
 on the loose lumber. A clatter of planks and a yell 
 came from where the cook had been nearly nipped and 
 caught under a slipping pile. The mate maintained a 
 grim silence. 
 
 Captain Watson gave no sign that he observed his
 
 NEIGHBORS 173 
 
 vessel's plight and paid no attention, apparently, to the 
 constant reports made by his officers that the glass was 
 still going down rapidly. Finally he said : " One can 
 expect a smart gale from the sou'east'ard this time of 
 year. We '11 make well off shore and ride it out com 
 fortably." 
 
 Morning showed the schooner close hauled and dip 
 ping heavily into a southerly sea which ran higher and 
 higher as each gust of the coming gale whitened the 
 ocean to windward. Both watches were called and the 
 men slipped and stumbled over the loose lumber, reefing, 
 snugging down and making things fast. The mate, 
 swearing tremendous oaths that nothing could save the 
 schooner from becoming a total wreck, busied himself 
 passing feeble lashings across the raffle. " This stuff 
 will get a start and then take off the bulwarks and clean 
 away the half deck and cut off the hatch combings and 
 spring the deck beams, so that she '11 open up like an 
 old cracker box. One sea '11 do it, spite of all the lash 
 ings in the world. Then the masts will go out of her," 
 he continued, driving a knot tight with his heel. " Then 
 you men will learn your business." He glared at them 
 and cursed them individually and collectively. Oleson's 
 big face slowly flushed till his anger boiled over. He 
 confronted Martin. " It 's the ship's fault," he roared. 
 " The ship ought to pay us time and a half, or else 
 have stowed this cargo before we came to sea. It ain't 
 the union's fault if the owners send the ship out in an 
 unseaworthy condition." 
 
 The mate thrust his savage face into the Scandi-
 
 174 ACROSS THE LATITUDES 
 
 navian's. " She would n't be unseaworthy if she had 
 a crew," he croaked. 
 
 At this moment there was a call from the poop for 
 all hands. Martin went aft, followed by the men of 
 both watches. Watson, in oilskins and boots, faced 
 them briskly. " You men had better decide what you 
 are going to do," he announced. " The gale will break 
 inside of an hour. This schooner is practically helpless 
 with that deck load unstowed and not lashed and wedged. 
 It will be a good six hours' job, but we had better make 
 a start at it if we are going to do it at all. Now, will 
 you men turn to under Mr. Martin's direction, or do 
 you still persist in refusing duty ? " 
 
 Oleson was about to speak when Watson held up his 
 hand. " I 've heard enough from you," he said coldly. 
 " This is a question for all of you. I '11 give you five 
 minutes to think it over. Get for'a'd." 
 
 Relieving the man at the wheel and ordering him to 
 join his mates, the captain watched them tumble toward 
 the bow of the schooner and gather at the foot of the 
 foremast. He could just see their shiny sou'westers 
 bobbing above the yellow lumber. Inside of the allowed 
 five minutes Higgins climbed back upon the deck load 
 and started to scramble aft, the other five trailing after 
 him. Watson turned the wheel over to the second mate 
 and came to the rail. " What do you say ? " he 
 demanded. 
 
 Higgins looked up at him solemnly. " If the ship 
 will pay time and a half we '11 stow this lumber, Cap 
 tain," he said.
 
 NEIGHBORS 175 
 
 " The ship won't pay time and a half," was the reply. 
 
 There was a silence. Higgins searched the counte 
 nances of his companions and found nothing thereon 
 written but stolid determination. " The union rules 
 won't let us," he said hoarsely. 
 
 " That will do." Watson dismissed them calmly. 
 
 During the forenoon the gale broke furiously, and 
 the schooner, stripped of most of her canvas, yielded 
 slowly to its violence, burying her bows stiffly in the 
 seas that crashed over and flooded the main deck. For 
 half an hour she kept her course, quivering in the iron 
 grip of the storm, striving, ill-laden and unweatherly 
 as she was, to do her best. But her best was too little. 
 A slithering comber threw its terrific mass against her, 
 swung her up and high to leeward. As she rose, Martin 
 shrieked a command and dashed down on the deck load, 
 waving furious arms toward the foresheet, which was 
 parting under the strain, as his quick eye had seen. The 
 men swarmed after him, balancing themselves on the 
 teetering planks. Then the Suisun was flung on her 
 beam-ends, a second sea poured over the weather bul 
 warks, the foresheet parted with a bang, and the whole 
 deck load sagged bodily to leeward. Some plank on 
 which the mate stood sprung up, and he seemed to 
 dive headlong into the sea, describing a short, swift 
 arc. As the schooner recovered herself and lurched to 
 windward Watson saw the tangled wreckage blow to 
 leeward, but he discerned no human figure amid it. 
 There was a jagged break in the bulwarks. 
 
 Under his booming orders they hove her to, stripped
 
 176 ACROSS THE LATITUDES 
 
 to the barest rag that would keep her to her position. 
 When they were done, it needed no cursing second mate 
 to inform the crew that, unless the deck cargo were 
 promptly swept overboard or securely lashed, the life 
 of the Suisun would be short. Buoyant as she was, her 
 terrific surges and wild dives threatened any moment 
 to plunge her decks under or to snap the masts out of 
 her. A constant flood of water raced across the deck 
 and foamed out from under the mass of lumber in 
 which the great planks and heavy timbers heaved and 
 slipped to every roll. The weak lashings the mate 
 had passed over it gave one by one, merely prolong 
 ing the agony and further endangering the vessel. 
 Watson called the crew to the binnacle and put the grim 
 question once more : " Will you turn to and stow that 
 lumber ? " 
 
 This time it was Smith who promptly replied : " The 
 union rules say we must have time and a half, sir." 
 
 Watson's rain-swept face assumed a cold imperious- 
 ness. " You men know what you are doing ? " 
 
 " The ship won't pay time and a half ? " Smith 
 demanded. 
 
 The captain shook his head. With one accord the 
 men shook their heads and withdrew to the rail, then 
 started to make their way forward. For the moment 
 the schooner was riding more easily, and the first two 
 leaped down on the lumber and ran briskly to the main 
 mast. But here they lost their footing. A sousing 
 sea swept them overside amid a raffle of broken planks, 
 upended timbers and tumbling bundles of lath. As
 
 NEIGHBORS 177 
 
 they bobbed to leeward Watson flung a useless life-buoy 
 toward them, hurling the rope's end after it. Then he 
 leaped to the main-deck ladder and caught Oleson's 
 arm as that struggling man dragged himself painfully 
 to safety. Together they fished out Higgins and Smith. 
 The second mate made his way to them and bawled in 
 Watson's ear : " Cut away the lashings and let the rest 
 of the deck load go, sir ? " 
 
 The three able seamen, balancing themselves against 
 the force of the screaming wind, listened for the answer 
 that might mean a solution of their great, insoluble 
 problem. Possibly Watson had a sense of their anxiety 
 and hoped that if he maintained his stubborn demeanor 
 they might finally acknowledge themselves beaten. Pos 
 sibly he merely refused this last chance to compromise. 
 He waved his hand in definite negation, drew his sou' 
 wester more closely about his head and took his stand 
 once more to windward, whence he composedly watched 
 the wild leapings and sickening plunges of his laboring 
 vessel. 
 
 Nightfall brought no surcease. The shivering cook 
 served them with what cold victuals he could find in 
 the cabin pantry, his galley being now inaccessible. 
 Master, mate and men ate silently and hastily to the 
 thump of the rudder-head pounding beneath them. 
 When they had wiped their mouths, Watson addressed 
 his crew. " This gale is n't well started yet," he told 
 them simply. " The glass is still going down. There 7 s 
 a bare chance to save this vessel if you stow that 
 what 's left of the deck load."
 
 178 ACROSS THE LATITUDES 
 
 The men met his steady eyes as steadily, shaking 
 their heads. They knew, as he did and they knew 
 he wasn't mistaken about their knowledge that to 
 attempt to make fast the slipping, sliding mass of lum 
 ber on deck meant certain death for somebody or all. 
 But, being seamen of tried worth, they refused to con 
 sider that. " We '11 do it if the ship '11 pay us time 
 and a half," they croaked. 
 
 A frosty gleam of admiration lit Watson's eyes as 
 he shook his head, and that gleam did not die till the 
 last man had filed out, leaving him swaying to the roll 
 of the deck, sipping cold coffee out of a tin cup in a 
 composed manner. 
 
 So, little by little, the storm wrought out unhindered 
 its furious will. The dark, devouring seas took the 
 lumber ton by ton. The lashings parted to the last 
 strand. The bulwarks were slowly bitten away. The 
 shrouds sang and shrieked to the impact of heavy 
 masses flung against them by rushing waves. Suddenly 
 the foremast went over the side and with it the head 
 gear. As though satisfied, the gale yielded suddenly, 
 and the Suisun was left leaping wildly to the rise and 
 surge of the sea. The weary men made their perilous 
 way forward and cut clear the fallen stays that held 
 the foremast up under the bows, where it beat trip 
 hammer blows on the planks -of the hull. This done, 
 with wild swinging of axes in the darkness, Watson 
 set them to trying to put tackles on the booms which 
 were threshing across the deck load with deadly violence. 
 But the wind piped up out of the west before the task
 
 NEIGHBORS 179 
 
 was well begun, and the schooner heeled far over to 
 hard, vicious squalls. They sought the poop again and 
 no sooner had regained it than a comber swept the deck 
 from fo'c's'le head to after cabin, and with its thunder 
 ing passage went the rest of the deck load, deck house, 
 pumps and the lee main shrouds. The mainmast broke 
 off a few feet above the deck, the mizzen lurched after 
 it, and the Suisun, wholly unmanageable, wallowed high 
 in the careering seas, a wreck. Her master, mate and 
 the four remaining men of the crew huddled by the 
 wheel and waited for the end. 
 
 For some time the buoyancy of the dismantled craft 
 saved her from being heavily swept, though sea after 
 sea broke in spume across her hulk. Then a flying spar 
 was flung from the windward darkness across the poop. 
 In its passage it took the second mate, Oleson, Smith 
 and the helmsman. Dragging a broken leg, Higgins 
 clawed his choking way to the crushed wheelbox and 
 yelled at the figure clinging to the stump of the wheel- 
 pillar : " Smith ! Oleson ! " The cook, lugging a huge 
 lantern, burst out of the cabin and staggered across the 
 tilted quarterdeck, crying shrilly into the night. For 
 one instant Higgins saw the pallid face of the captain 
 framed in the swirling darkness, then the light vanished 
 before a swooping wave which smothered the cook's last 
 cry. Higgins caught a rope's end and passed it round 
 the captain and the pillar, afterward lashing himself. 
 Watson nodded and said in a strong voice, " Smashed 
 a rib, I think." 
 
 As day approached the schooner's stout frame com-
 
 180 ACROSS THE LATITUDES 
 
 menced to give. She filled, and as her sides sank deeper 
 into the water the sea, though falling, made a clean 
 breach across her main deck, and even the poop was 
 continually washed by broken water. Dawn came, a 
 gray, spumy light that made plain the wallowing hulk 
 to the two men straining to hang to their little refuge. 
 And with the light the wind veered into the northwest 
 and blew shrilly and bitterly, laden with sleet, armed 
 with the steel of driving hail. Watson, without a word, 
 extricated himself feebly from his lashings and crawled 
 to the smashed skylight. Higgins, watching him with 
 dull eyes, knew from the expression on the captain's 
 face that all below was awash and that neither food 
 nor water nor warmth was to be theirs. He cleared his 
 eyes and peered forward. 
 
 The schooner's bows rose like a ragged island, un 
 approachable except over the broken deck that now and 
 then emerged from the foam to display gaping hatches 
 and splintered planking. He could see that one of the 
 anchors was still there, safe in its lashings. Higgins 
 threw off the rope and dragged his stiffened body for 
 ward. Watson turned his head and saw him. " You 
 and I are the only ones left," he said. 
 
 " The rest of the boys are gone with the deck 
 load," Higgins returned huskily. " I thought I 'd get 
 for' ad and cast off that bower, sir. It might make 
 her ride easier." He made a wild clutch at a handhold 
 as a sea creamed over the rail. 
 
 Watson's blue eyes gleamed slightly. " Your leg 
 broken? You can't make it, Higgins. Nobody could
 
 NEIGHBORS 181 
 
 get along that main deck now. We '11 stay here. The 
 sea is going down." He rose painfully to his feet, 
 picked up the rope and made it fast around the helpless 
 seaman. Then he sat down beside him, breathing 
 harshly into his crushed chest, his booted feet waggling 
 in front of him to the send of the deck. So they waited 
 while the gray light grew into white and a rift of blue 
 appeared in the north. Then Higgins stirred. His 
 pallid face was set in stern lines. His hand, swollen 
 by salt water, went out, and he touched his commander 
 on the knee. " Is there any chance for us, sir ? " 
 
 " There is no chance," was the calm reply. Then 
 Watson went on : " We can't be more than thirty miles 
 off shore. If this wind holds we '11 be ashore by to 
 night on the rocks to the south'ard of Tillamook." 
 
 " She 's not drifting very fast," the seaman said 
 presently. " And if we could get that anchor overside 
 and pay out the cable it would keep her head to the 
 sea and bring her up when she got into shallow water." 
 
 Watson shook his head. " There 's time enough for 
 that," he remarked, staring into the cold sky. 
 
 In the afternoon Higgins drew himself closer to the 
 pillar. " My wife knows your wife in 'Frisco," he said 
 thickly. " I live next door to you." 
 
 Watson nodded. " I know it," he croaked. " We 're 
 neighbors. My wife got a recipe for cookies from Mrs. 
 Higgins last time I was in port. . . . Good cookies . . . 
 good neighbor . . . sorry to move away . . . we 've a 
 little place out in Sunset." 
 
 Higgins considered this, working his swollen lips.
 
 182 ACROSS THE LATITUDES 
 
 " My old woman won't starve," he said presently. 
 " We 've got a little in the bank . . . the union will 
 look out for her . . . the union, you know . . ." 
 
 Watson's white face suddenly flushed and he broke 
 out, repressing his agony, " I know. The union is all 
 right for you boys ... we 're on different sides. Tal- 
 bot has always been square with me ... he '11 see that 
 the wife don't suffer . . . good man, always treated me 
 white . . ." 
 
 They were silent. 
 
 As the ruddy sunset lit up the waste of water they 
 both twisted their chilled limbs into easier positions and 
 Higgins offered the skipper some of the sodden tobacco 
 from his pocket. " Can't smoke abaft the foremast, sir," 
 he said, with pale humor. " But we can chew." 
 
 Watson smiled a wintry smile and accepted the gift. 
 " About that deck load," he said abruptly. " The ship 
 could not give time and a half." 
 
 It was simply said, a statement of fact, without hint 
 of apology or contrition. As such Higgins received it, 
 meeting his old superior's eyes with frankness. " The 
 union won't give an inch," he retorted. And without 
 further words they settled down to the long night. 
 
 The northwester blew itself out to a gentle breeze. 
 Higgins slept, his broken limb curled grotesquely out 
 from his body, his stertorous breathing rising and fall 
 ing, it seemed, to the slow surge of the wreck. But 
 Watson, kneeling on the little deck, gasping for each 
 painful breath, one arm around the broken pillar, peered 
 open-eyed into the darkness to the east. Once or twice
 
 NEIGHBORS 183 
 
 he brushed the spray out of his eyes and strained his 
 vision to catch something on the horizon. At last he 
 exhaled chokingly. " Yaquina Head light," he mut 
 tered. " Due east. We are n't over ten miles off it." 
 He figured in silence and then said, aloud : " She '11 go 
 ashore on the beach near the Siletz maybe. There 's 
 a chance, if I can get that anchor over." 
 
 His mind worked rapidly. To get forward was, even 
 now that the sea was smooth, a task of peril for an 
 active man. For him, bruised and crushed, it held im 
 possibilities. " But," he thought, " if I don't we shall 
 go ashore in the surf and both of us will be drowned. 
 Nobody will know why the Suisun was lost. Talbot 
 may not know that I obeyed orders. All this may have 
 to be done over again. He won't see that Mary does n't 
 suffer." He looked at Higgins a while and his face 
 assumed an expression of interest. " Mary says the 
 Higginses are good neighbors," he went on, formulating 
 his thoughts more slowly. " And he 's a good man. He 
 and I have done our best. He 's stuck to the union and 
 I Ve stuck to owners. We 're neighbors. It is n't 
 rightly any quarrel between us. And he '11 tell it 
 straight. . . . His wife knows Mary, and that '11 make 
 it better, so if I don't get ashore alive, maybe he '11 do 
 the neighborly thing." He awakened Higgins and said: 
 " There 's a light showing inshore. It 's Yaquina Head. 
 The wreck '11 drift into the surf. If you get off all 
 right just tell your wife to tell my wife that I did my 
 best and that I stuck by the ship. . . . Don't tell her 
 the ship could n't pay time and a half . . . she and
 
 184 ACROSS THE LATITUDES 
 
 your wife are neighbors . . . women don't understand 
 . . . you see, the ship couldn't pay time and a half 
 . . . well . . ." 
 
 Higgins nodded, shivering in the chill. " And the 
 union would n't give an inch," he proclaimed. " If you 
 get ashore and I don't, sir, just tell the boys we stuck 
 to the union . . . tell my old woman . . . she '11 under 
 stand that much . . . and if Mrs. Watson could 
 just " 
 
 " I reckon Mrs. Watson will do the neighborly thing," 
 the captain answered harshly. Higgins drowsed off 
 feverishly. 
 
 With great exertion Watson added his own lashing 
 to that about the sleeping sailor. Then he rose on un 
 steady legs and reeled to the break of the poop. Here 
 he swayed, clinging to a bit of rail, and gazed search- 
 ingly into the shadows below him. When he had got 
 his numbed limbs slightly warmed he let himself down 
 till his feet touched the main deck, jerked his arm clear 
 and turned and lurched forward, stumbling over the 
 broken planks, clinging desperately now and again to 
 some stable bit of wreckage while a wave threshed 
 around his waist, and so he struggled on toward the 
 fo'c's'le head. He made it, throwing himself up the 
 ladder just in time to escape a sea that almost tore 
 him from his precarious hold. A moment more and he 
 was on the little deck, clawing his way over the raffle 
 of twisted and useless gear to the big anchor. A wafer 
 of moon showed through the drifting clouds to light 
 him to his final stopping place. With infinite pains he
 
 NEIGHBORS 185 
 
 managed to get his big knife out of his pocket. With 
 it he hacked at the lashings. 
 
 For a quarter of an hour he worked pretty steadily, 
 stopping now and then to lay his chilled hands on his 
 bruised chest to limber the fingers. The huge anchor 
 was partially loosened and worked slightly to the pitch 
 of the hulk. He ceased and crawled to the windlass 
 and knocked out the stoppers. Then he went back to 
 the anchor. To get at the last ropes that held it in 
 the chocks he must crawl to the edge of the deck and, 
 he perceived, when that lashing was cut, the anchor 
 in its plunge must inevitably drag him with it into the 
 sea. He stared back into the shadows where Higgins, 
 invisible, lay snoring and unconscious. " One of us or 
 both," the captain thought calmly. The sailor's grim 
 words came back to his ear : " The union ain't givin' 
 an inch." All the firmness and resolution of the man's 
 strong nature came forward. He shook his head 
 fiercely. " Five of 'em went, not giving an inch. It 
 was the smartest crew that ever shipped with me. 
 They 're gone, but I 'm still here and still master. 
 They would n't give an inch. . . . Here 's another ! " 
 He dragged himself across the cold bulk of the anchor 
 and, half clinging to the broken rail, half clutching 
 at the slippery deck, he did his final duty, feeling at 
 each roll of the wreck the great, overpowering, sullen 
 thrust of the ton mass of iron. 
 
 Higgins was roused from his troubled sleep by a roar 
 of steel links tearing through the hawsehole. He sat 
 up and saw a shower of red sparks shoot into the dark-
 
 186 ACROSS THE LATITUDES 
 
 ness far forward. As he watched, the great anchor 
 reached the end of its cable and brought up short, send 
 ing great vibrations through the waterlogged hulk. He 
 stared into the blackness and yelled, " Captain ! Cap 
 tain ! Captain ! " There was no answer. 
 
 The wreck of the 8uisun, now tumbling within sound 
 ings, brought up slowly, as the anchor dragged, and 
 settled with her head to the seas. The bright light 
 on Yaquina Head shone from the invisible shore. 
 Higgins' experienced senses caught the significance of 
 the changed motion of the hulk and he ceased to cry 
 out. " Him and me was neighbors," he muttered. 
 " My wife knew his wife . . . the ship could n't pay 
 time and a half . . . the union would n't give an inch 
 . . . why " In the light of death he sternly con 
 sidered the problem of life.
 
 THE SCHOONER MARY E. FOSTER: 
 GUARDIAN 
 
 THE AGENT of Lloyd's Intelligence Department, the 
 detective bureau of the world's sea police, listened to 
 the smoking-room gossip of the wreck of the Hester 
 Fox with occasional knowing nods. When the captain 
 had finished his story the agent lit his pipe and seemed 
 on the point of drowsing off when the purser mentioned 
 the name " Mary Foster." 
 
 I have totally forgotten what the connection was, 
 what the talk about it was and the conclusion of it, 
 but I sha'n't soon forget the interest of the Lloyd's 
 man, who finally asked me to his own cabin to chat. 
 It was the beginning of my acquaintance with the most 
 remarkable and secretive department of police and 
 of my friendship with Samuel Garfinkle, one of its 
 shrewdest agents. Garfinkle told me, in the course of 
 time, the inside of many strange affairs. He was an 
 indefatigable investigator; the most indomitable col 
 lector of facts I ever knew. 
 
 " Sonny, me lad," he would say when I gaped at his 
 sureness of assertion, " the big seas are no place not 
 to know your facts. There 's no policeman on every 
 corner and no court across the way to settle a thing 
 while it 's warm. I Ve got the rascals from Tristan
 
 188 ACROSS THE LATITUDES 
 
 D'Acunha to the Runn of Kutch to watch, and I 've 
 only got facts to go on facts picked up on steamers 
 like this, hunted down in public houses in New Zealand, 
 caught out of the ruck of people on the bund in 
 Shanghai, sucked out of the whirlpools of London and 
 Hongkong and New York. Facts, me lad, facts, facts 
 and nothing but facts. Two facts, ten thousand miles 
 apart and ten years distant have saved my people a 
 hundred thousand pounds." 
 
 " But you must use your imagination a lot, too," I 
 insisted. 
 
 " Imagination is only one form of belief," said 
 Garfinkle. " You can't make up what never was nor 
 can be. You say you imagine it; that means you 
 would believe a man who told you just that thing as 
 a fact. For instance, I could tell you where three men 
 imagined something and it was a fact for ten years. 
 It cost Lloyds ten thousand pounds to find out that it 
 was n't a fact ; and when they found it out, and I told 
 them it was all a falsehood, they had paid the insurance 
 money just the same as though it were a fact, and that 
 made it a fact, which it never was and never will be 
 though it is, now." 
 
 " Go 'way," I said flippantly. 
 
 Garfinkle never liked to be treated lightly. He 
 seemed to think that he should be respected, if only 
 for what he contained a remarkable collection of 
 facts. So now, after going to the trouble of allowing 
 me to bring him to a point, he insisted on proper 
 demeanor. He lifted one eyebrow gently and said,
 
 THE MARY E. FOSTER 189 
 
 " Then you never heard the true story of the schooner 
 Mary E. Foster, Guardeen ? " 
 
 " No," I replied. 
 
 " It was that that was in my mind when I made 
 the remarks you have just sneered at. Of course, if 
 you don't know anything about the case, you couldn't 
 be expected to understand a plain statement." 
 
 I humbled myself at that moment and have rejoiced 
 ever since. In all my later profitable acquaintance 
 with Garfinkle I do not believe I ever heard him tell 
 of a matter that so completely explained his prodigious 
 activity in the search for the ultimate fact; a search 
 most wonderful and exacting in view of the bigness 
 of the world and the unbridled passions that plot and 
 play upon its far-spread seas. 
 
 You will understand (Garfinkle began, pulling out 
 of a fat wallet five newspaper clippings and spreading 
 them upon his knee) that this is not the story of the 
 Mary E. Foster, Guardeen, until the very last. In the 
 beginning it was simply the story of the American 
 schooner Mary E. Foster, of San Francisco, 450 tons 
 register; James Foster, master. Her history, like that 
 of all other craft that carry a flag, was told in the 
 marine columns of the newspapers under " Arrivals 
 and Departures." 
 
 It was sixteen years ago, while I was down in the 
 West Indies looking into the wreck of the Norwegian 
 steamer Ilda, that I was called to Kingston and told 
 to cross the isthmus, hurry to San Francisco and settle
 
 190 ACROSS THE LATITUDES 
 
 up the matter of the insurance on the hull and cargo 
 of the schooner Mary E. Foster, which had been lost 
 on a passage from Honolulu to Astoria. Remember, 
 I had never heard of the schooner before and all I 
 knew was that too many American schooners were being 
 lost in the Pacific and our department was beginning 
 to take note of them all. It is a fact that this loss 
 was a perfectly simple one and my going personally to 
 examine it was merely a matter of formality. 
 
 Now when I left Kingston for Colon on a Royal 
 Mail steamer I took with me this clipping. 
 
 (He laid the first slip of printed paper in my palm.) 
 You observe it is from the marine columns of the 
 New York " Herald " and reads : 
 
 The Oceanic steamship Mariposa, arrived in San Francisco 
 yesterday from Tahiti, reports picking up small boat and three 
 of the crew of the schooner Mary E. Foster which foundered 
 300 miles east of Koke Head on June 12. The Foster was laden 
 with shell valued at $115,000 and sailed from Honolulu June 1, 
 meeting with good weather till the morning of June 2, when 
 she was caught in a squall and thrown on her beam ends. 
 The survivors state that the vessel sank very suddenly the 
 next day in a heavy sea. Captain Foster and the rest of the 
 crew were drowned. 
 
 Sounds plain enough, does n't it ? It certainly 
 sounded all right to me, and I walked into the office 
 in San Francisco a month later ready for the simplest 
 kind of an examination into the items of the manifest 
 and the particulars of the wreck. On the table in the 
 office was an old " List," and I picked it up and turned 
 to the name "Foster," as a man will in the way of
 
 THE MARY E. FOSTER 191 
 
 business. There I found the schooner, all right, and 
 it was only a sort of mental memorandum I made that 
 she was marked " Dismantled " it was the 1889 
 " List," and two years old. A vessel, as you know, 
 sonny, me lad, is often laid up and then afterwards 
 refitted for a new series of voyages. But it stuck in 
 my mind that she was laid up in Oakland Creek. 
 
 Then I went to business, which was comprised ' in 
 the depositions under oath of Thomas Richards, A.B., 
 Henry Hoke, A.B., and Passiah Mint, cook, picked up 
 at sea, June 16th, 1891, while adrift in a small boat, 
 by the steamer Mariposa. They all told the same story, 
 which was that the Mary E. Foster, laden with shell 
 from the Paumotus, had put into Honolulu for sup 
 plies and they had joined her there for the voyage to 
 Astoria. Owing to the smell of the rotting shell, there 
 had been considerable trouble with the crew, but nothing 
 to amount to anything until the night of June llth, 
 when a squall struck the schooner during an altercation 
 between Captain Foster and the man at the wheel. The 
 schooner, being broad on the wind with her topsails 
 set, heeled over on her beam ends. The cargo shifted 
 and she did not recover herself. They passed the night 
 working in the rotten shell, trying to right her, but in 
 the heavy sea could do nothing. On June 12th, by 
 these fellows' stories, the Mary E. Foster suddenly sank 
 and they barely escaped in a small boat. They did 
 did not know what had become of the captain and the 
 rest of the crew. 
 
 Then I went to see the owner of the schooner. I
 
 192 ACROSS THE LATITUDES 
 
 found him at the " Bowhead." He was a big, heavy- 
 handed sailorman, one of those chaps that take shore 
 life as a solemn luxury. He showed me his papers 
 and a copy of the manifest signed by the American 
 consul at Suva. He proved easily enough that his 
 schooner was worth $25,000 and the cargo was worth 
 probably double the insurance on it which was 
 $50,000. The only peculiar thing about him was that 
 he was the sole owner of the schooner, whereas on the 
 Pacific coast a captain is always supposed to own a 
 " piece " of the schooner he commands. I asked the 
 owner about it and he told me Captain Foster had sold 
 him his interest that voyage. " The skipper needed the 
 money to send his daughter to school with," I remember 
 was part of the explanation. 
 
 You observe how regular it all was: the vessel in 
 Lloyd's " List," mentioned in the newspapers, a bona- 
 fide owner, all the papers correct, the loss authenticated 
 by three seamen picked up by a mail steamer in mid- 
 ocean. Of course the insurance companies paid the 
 $75,000 when the Mary E. Foster came to her last 
 Wednesday of life and was posted as " Missing." 
 
 I went my way on other matters, but, as is my cus 
 tom in every transaction, I never entirely lost the 
 case from my mind. Then, one day in Singapore I 
 picked up a copy of the " North China News," and 
 here is the clipping I made : 
 
 Passengers ex SS Fingal Bay from Vancouver via Hawaii, 
 Miss Mary E. Foster and Henry Hoke, Esq. Proceeded same 
 day.
 
 THE MARY E. FOSTER 193 
 
 That is dated in 1895, four years after the loss of 
 the schooner Mary E. Foster. But I knew right away 
 that those names, joined for the second time, meant 
 something. I looked up my notes again and assured 
 myself that one of the seamen picked up after the 
 foundering of the vessel was named Henry Hoke. You 
 see how these facts work out: What had Henry Hoke 
 to do with Mary E. Foster? Was she the daughter 
 of the captain and former part owner? If Captain 
 Foster sold his interest in his ship to send his daughter 
 to school, how did she have money to travel in the 
 style that this clipping inferred? Where did Henry 
 Hoke, a common sailor, get the money to travel first 
 cabin in the same ship ? Did Henry Hoke and Mary 
 E. Foster get part or all of the insurance money from 
 the schooner? 
 
 You see what a beautiful series of problems it set 
 for me. You will say immediately, " How did you 
 know these were the same persons ? " I will say that 
 it was because I know that a part of a circle, if con 
 tinued, will meet itself. I was as sure of the identity 
 of this Mary Foster and Henry Hoke as I was of my 
 own. 
 
 But I could n't get to Shanghai to trace them. The 
 loss had been paid, too. However, I made up my mind 
 that some day I would know the history of the wreck 
 of the Mary E. Foster. 
 
 In the San Francisco " Chronicle " of May 12th, 
 1898, I found this paragraph, the third of m^ 
 series :
 
 194 ACROSS THE LATITUDES 
 
 It is rumored along the water front that the owners of the 
 dismantled hulk Mary E. Foster, which has been lying in the 
 mud up Oakland Creek for many years, will refit her to take 
 a party of prospectors and their outfits to the Alaskan gold 
 fields this season. 
 
 Now, schooners of the same name are unusual, 
 specially hailing from the same port. I put my three 
 clippings together, and then I went and hunted up the 
 owners of this Mary E. Foster. They were a little 
 crowd of Greek fishermen who had bought her for 
 junk. I found that they had purchased the hull and 
 fittings in 1890, after the schooner had been laid up 
 since 1888. That was all the satisfaction I got, except 
 that I measured the old craft and found her dimensions 
 were exactly those of the vessel lost off the Hawaiian 
 Islands in 1891 on which the underwriters had paid 
 $75,000. 
 
 Then I came to the true conclusion: The only Mary 
 E. Foster that ever existed was the one lying up Oak 
 land Creek that had lain there ever since 1888. An 
 insurance company had paid $75,000 on a schooner and 
 cargo that never existed and consequently never could 
 arrive in port. Nice conclusion, was n't it ? 
 
 I took my three clippings to the agent in San Fran 
 cisco and we went over the whole affair again. It was 
 plain that something had been done in the way of a 
 big mystery, for we could find no trace of any Mary E. 
 Foster evcept the one lying up Oakland Creek dis 
 mantled. No real trace, I should say. We did find 
 this, a clipping from the San Francisco " Call " under 
 date of June 7th, 1891 :
 
 THE MARY E. FOSTER 195 
 
 Honolulu, June 1. Sailed, Am Sch Mary E. Foster for San 
 Francisco. From Suva, May 29. 
 
 You see the point ? There was no cable to the 
 Islands then and that item was brought up by the 
 mail boat. So much had been made evident that I 
 made a report to the home office and started out to 
 solve the mystery that these four clippings had woven. 
 And that begins the story of the schooner Mary E. 
 Foster, Guardeen. 
 
 The first thing I did was to go to Honolulu and look 
 up the records in the Harbor Master's office relative 
 to the sailing of the schooner Mary E. Foster on June 
 1st, 1891. I may state that no schooner of that name 
 entered Honolulu in that year or departed from it. 
 The latest record of the Mary E. Foster was in 1887. 
 You have observed the clipping from the " Call." 
 Is n't it business-like ? But it was all a lie. The 
 Foster never sailed from Honolulu that day in June, 
 1891 ; therefore no schooner of that name was lost 
 300 miles east of Koke Head twelve days later. That 
 is one fact. The others were that three men in a small 
 boat had been picked up by the Mariposa, that they 
 had told this story of the Mary E. Foster and that the 
 San Francisco " Call," on June 7th, several days be 
 fore the Mariposa arrived with the survivors, had pub 
 lished a false item of news. 
 
 Nothing could change these facts. But there was 
 another truth that they indicated: the man in San 
 Francisco who had placed the insurance knew the 
 inside history. If he was not one of the three sailors,
 
 196 ACROSS THE LATITUDES 
 
 that made four men concerned in the mystery of the 
 Mary E. Foster. I knew the names of three of them. 
 I knew that one, Henry Hoke, still kept the name he 
 had gone by in this transaction. Also I knew that a 
 woman called Mary E. Foster was alive and knew 
 Henry Hoke. I was puzzled, sonny, me lad. There 
 were a dozen possible explanations and all I could 
 do was to wait for another fact to turn up. It loomed 
 up while I was in Honolulu. Here is my last clipping. 
 It is from the Honolulu " Commercial Advertiser " of 
 June 14th, 1899 : 
 
 An application was made yesterday for a transfer of 
 record in the matter of Mary E. Foster, Guardian, to the 
 consular court in Shanghai. The property of the estate is 
 being administered by Bittle & ^Company of Honolulu and 
 the application is made by them as attorneys for the closing 
 up of the guardianship matter as the ward has reached her 
 majority. 
 
 I called on Bittle & Company and was referred to 
 their attorney. I do not know just how to tell the 
 various stories that finally united in the solution of the 
 mystery, but I beg you to listen carefully. There is 
 a certain amount of interest in the matter from the 
 standpoint of a student of humanity. The great inter 
 est, I may say, is in the logic by which a keen mind 
 may solve riddles woven through many years by men 
 vitally concerned in secrecy. 
 
 The attorney was very reticent about the whole mat 
 ter until I showed him my credentials. He then took 
 me down to see the manager of the bank. He, too,
 
 THE MARY E. FOSTER 197 
 
 was very non-committal, but as a business man he 
 felt compelled to afford me some opportunity of gaining 
 information. You will understand that I did not tell 
 them my object. I assumed for the time the role of 
 a man who had a pecuniary interest in the estate and 
 who demanded satisfactory proof that his interests were 
 being safeguarded. 
 
 "We are acting solely as the custodians of the funds 
 of the estate/' said the manager finally. " It was put 
 into our hands in September, 1891, upon the applica 
 tion of Thomas Richards and Passiah Mint to the 
 court of the Kingdom of Hawaii for the appointment 
 of a guardian ad litem for the minor Mary E. 
 Foster. The estate consisted of $75,000 in cash in 
 vested in English securities. We have taken charge of 
 this investment and made our annual report as required 
 by law. The minor has now, we understand, reached 
 her majority and we are prepared to turn the property 
 over to her at her request." 
 
 That was the extent of the statement and I felt that 
 I must have some details to go on. I asked the address 
 of Messrs. Hoke and Mint. " I think that these gentle 
 men, being the applicants in the matter," I said, " will 
 be most capable of telling me the exact status of my 
 claim." 
 
 " I would suggest," the manager said, " that you 
 communicate with the guardian, whose agents we 
 
 are. 
 tt 
 
 And who is the guardeen ? " I demanded. 
 " Mary E. Foster," he answered.
 
 198 ACROSS THE LATITUDES 
 
 " But I thought that that was the name of the 
 minor ? " I remarked. 
 
 " Of the guardian, also," was the response. 
 
 " Are you acquainted with the guardeen ? " I insisted. 
 
 " We are," he replied. " Our duties have been 
 merely those connected with the conserving of the 
 estate's interests in this kingdom and the investment 
 of the moneys intrusted to us at the application of the 
 gentlemen named." 
 
 I saw that there was nothing to be gained by pur 
 suing this course of action and I plumped out : " Repre 
 senting Lloyd's agency, as my credentials will show, I 
 shall be compelled to enter suit for the whole estate 
 in your hands in behalf of the underwriters who paid 
 the loss of the schooner Mary E. Foster, alleged to 
 have foundered in mid-ocean on June 12th, 1891." 
 
 I shall never forget the look on the manager's face. 
 He seemed to have been hit in the face and the color 
 rose to his ears. Then he got up and walked back and 
 forth a moment across the steaming hot office. " What 
 do you mean ? " he demanded, at last. 
 
 I told him in five minutes and he listened like a man 
 barkening to a message told in a whisper. When I 
 had finished he and the attorney stared at each other 
 and then, to my amazement, laughed. 
 
 " So that explains it," the attorney said, controlling 
 himself. 
 
 " Explains what ? " I demanded. 
 
 " A thousand things, Mr. Garfinkle," the manager 
 replied, his face growing solemn again. " I shall not
 
 THE MARY E. FOSTER 199 
 
 longer keep from you the address of Mr. Henry Hoke. 
 And when you have had a talk with him, I wish you 
 would bring him down to the bank. I should like to 
 know what your course of action will be. You under 
 stand that we have had nothing to do with anything 
 except the custody of the moneys of the estate and that 
 those moneys are ready in our hands to be delivered 
 to whomever the courts may determine." 
 
 " Mr. Hoke is living at Palama," the attorney inter 
 posed, with a look of genuine concern on his face. " I 
 should be glad to go with you to see him, if you do not 
 mind." 
 
 Now banks like Bittle & Company are not to be 
 suspected of evil doing and their attorney must neces 
 sarily be an honest and upright man. I would need 
 impartial assistance in my next operations and I gladly 
 acquiesced in the attorney's proposal. 
 
 As we walked down King street towards Palama, 
 which is the district of Honolulu across the river, the 
 attorney, my companion, seemed oddly disturbed. I 
 noticed it and finally demanded of him whether he 
 would prefer not to accompany me. He replied that 
 it was his duty, with my permission, to go along and 
 see that his client's interest suffered no harm. " Not 
 that I think you would willingly put us in a false 
 position, Mr. Garfinkle," he went on. " But in cir 
 cumstances so remarkable I hope you will excuse me 
 if I defer my full agreement in the facts that you 
 assert until after we have interviewed Mr. Hoke." 
 
 We turned off King street and went through the
 
 200 ACROSS THE LATITUDES 
 
 windings of Aala Lane under the palms until we came 
 to a small house set back in a very neatly-kept yard. 
 This, the attorney informed me, was the residence of 
 Hoke. " And there he is," he said, " sitting on the 
 lanai taking the air." 
 
 Sonny, me lad, Hoke was the owner whom I had 
 seen in 1891 in the " Bowhead " saloon and the man 
 to whom the insurance had been paid. I stopped at 
 the gate to make sure of it and I tell you I was of 
 two minds whether to go in or not. I have met many 
 desperate men, and I have gone down under more 
 than one fighting felon. But of all the malignant and 
 baleful countenances that I ever confronted I shall 
 give first place to that of Hoke. 
 
 He rose when we entered, and shot his chair back 
 to the wall with one swift straightening of his knee. 
 Then I was sure that he knew me, recognized me after 
 all the years. And, more than that, I knew he had 
 been expecting me. Sometimes, at night, I think of 
 the people who are expecting me people in cottages 
 out pretty roads from London, men in public houses 
 on the outskirts of Sydney and Auckland, skippers tool 
 ing up and down the inner seas in broken vessels, mates 
 guzzling gin in San Francisco dives, pompous chaps in 
 fine linen and broadcloth sitting in pews in fine 
 churches, all waiting for Samuel Garfinkle to come in 
 and say, " I 've come to ask you " Grim-faced, 
 sodden-eyed, busy-minded, drunken, boastful men, 
 waiting for Samuel Garfinkle . . . retribution . . . 
 Destiny the End!
 
 THE MARY E. FOSTER 201 
 
 And here I walked in this little gate a hot afternoon 
 in Honolulu, the roar of the surf on the reef beating 
 through the palms and Henry Hoke waiting for me, 
 with his heavy face set in desperation and defiance 
 and , murderous purpose. And all I said, sonny, me 
 lad, was, " Mr. Hoke, I 've come to ask you " 
 
 He hardly noticed the presence of the attorney, but 
 stared at me, his big frame stiff and menacing. I 
 picked up a chair that sat near the end of the lanai 
 and seated myself. " I 've come to ask you about the 
 loss of the Mary E. Foster" I finished, holding myself 
 calmly. 
 
 " What about it ? " he managed to demand, relaxing 
 by an effort. 
 
 " All about it," I responded, tilting my chair back 
 and pulling out some cigars. 
 
 The attorney took one and I handed the other out 
 towards Hoke. He stared at it a moment and then 
 took it, slowly. I heard his teeth crunch through the 
 end of it. 
 
 " Yes," I said quietly, " I am very much interested 
 in the case. You remember you proved a loss of 
 $75,000 in San Francisco in 1891 and we paid you. 
 Now, we understand, there was no schooner of the 
 name of Mary E. Foster on the high seas that year, or 
 any time since. On what schooner did we pay that 
 loss?" 
 
 He might have denied it and I would have had to 
 spend a year proving that he was the man who had 
 sworn ownership to that vessel. But, as I say, he had
 
 202 ACROSS THE LATITUDES 
 
 been waiting for me, and he thought, of course, that 
 I was ready for him. So he came direct to the point: 
 " What are you going to do about it ? " he asked. 
 
 " I have just informed the attorney of Bittle & 
 Company that I am going to the court and ask for the 
 principal and interest of the sum you defrauded us 
 of," I responded. " Then I am going to put you in 
 jail, you and all concerned in this fraud." 
 
 " What do you want of me, then ? " he sneered. 
 " If you Ve got it all cut and dried, why bother me 
 with questions ? " 
 
 " Because," I said frankly, " I am curious to know 
 why you did this you and Thomas Richards and 
 Passiah Mint. I find that the money has been left 
 practically untouched and is in the name of Mary E. 
 Foster, the daughter, I take it, of the man who, once 
 master of the schooner of that name, sold in 1899 to cer 
 tain Greek fishermen in Oakland. Evidently, you have 
 not profited directly by your crime. Mary E. Foster has 
 profited. It will majie it easier for you if you will tell 
 me how she used you as a tool to gain this wealth." 
 
 Even the attorney was alarmed by Hoke's aspect 
 at these words. His huge fist doubled up and his arm 
 stretched toward me as if he would catch me in some 
 fatal grip and crush me. But I did not move. " I 
 am advising you to make a clean breast for your own 
 sake," I repeated. " A full confession will have much 
 influence with the court." 
 
 To my amazement and I was prepared for almost 
 any demonstration Hoke rose to his feet and walked
 
 THE MARY E. FOSTER 203 
 
 away from me to the edge of the lanai and then back, 
 his face as he turned it toward me working like that 
 of a child trying to stifle a sob. He strode thus for a 
 full five minutes while the attorney and I watched 
 him curiously. At the end of that time a second man 
 came -in the gate and came up on the lanai. He was 
 a short, greasy-looking man with a fat and placid face. 
 He stared at Hoke and then took in the attorney and 
 myself with a slow and unperturbed glance. 
 
 Hoke stopped directly in front of him and shook 
 his fist in his face. " They 're after Mary Foster," he 
 bellowed with surprising volume of tone. 
 
 " Mary ! " echoed the new-comer. 
 
 " Yes, Mary, Passiah Mint, and it 's neither your 
 old carcass nor mine that '11 serve instead." 
 
 Nothing more ludicrous could be imagined than 
 these two men glaring at each other, Hoke's face ex 
 pressing the very deepest of anger and Mint's slowly 
 developing a bewilderment, a chagrin and a despair 
 that nearly set me to laughing. But I was on business 
 bent and I sharply brought them to a realization of 
 it. " I have n't any time to waste," I said briefly. 
 
 At this moment there was an ejaculation from Mint 
 that gave me my cue : " Mary ! " he gasped. " And she 
 never knew anything about it ! " 
 
 " If she did n't," I cut in, " she never need know, 
 if you will kindly tell me the circumstances of this 
 extraordinary crime." 
 
 " You mean that ? " said Hoke with a sudden quiet 
 ness of voice.
 
 204 ACROSS THE LATITUDES 
 
 " I do," I said readily, feeling that I now had my 
 entrance into the mystery. " If the girl you speak of 
 knew nothing of this most remarkable affair from 
 which, I gather, you profited immensely I give you 
 my word she cannot be brought into it." 
 
 I will not detail the particulars of the methods I 
 used to extract from these two men the history of their 
 crime for such of course it proved to be. But it 
 finally was exposed, in full, by Hoke and Mint. I ven 
 ture to state that a more peculiar case has never come 
 under the cognizance of my department. To appre 
 ciate the oddity of the whole matter, I must give you 
 the statement of Hoke and his companion, together with 
 their explanation of the genesis of their plan and the 
 details of its execution. 
 
 " We were sailormen with Captain Foster," Hoke 
 said, looking at Mint. 
 
 " In the old Mary E. Foster?" I demanded. 
 
 " The same. There was three of us, me and Richards 
 and Mint. I reckon we stayed by Captain Foster about 
 three years, before he was struck by the main boom 
 and died in a blanket in the lee of the wheelbox." 
 Hoke stopped and stared at me, his heavy face set 
 in deep and rebellious lines. And then, as he did 
 many times during the piecing out of the story, he 
 suddenly cried out to know why he should tell me these 
 things. I brought him to his task again each time by 
 speaking of the girl. " I shall have to go straight to 
 her and find it all out," I would say. 
 
 " Captain Foster was a hard man," Hoke told me.
 
 THE MARY E. FOSTER 205 
 
 " He would run his schooner without a mate, to save 
 money and I can see him yet sitting on the weather 
 rail with his chin on his chest and his eyes half shut 
 for lack of sleep while his ship plunged along. It 
 showed how hard he was that he never rigged boom 
 tackles to save his schooner from the wrecking jar 
 of the big booms coming inboard. ' Short-handed 
 schooners make better time without them,' he 'd growl." 
 
 Mint took it up : " Yes, and I 've stood in the galley 
 watching the sails crumple up when the wind shifted, 
 and then hung on while the three booms started in, 
 crossed the decks and brought up on the sheets with 
 that force that the Mary E. Foster would jump the 
 oakum out of the seams. You could n't sleep for the 
 thunder of 'em and the yell of the tops'l men shifting 
 the tops'l sheets up there on the buckling masts while 
 the gaffs thumped them in the ribs. He was a devil, 
 Foster was." 
 
 " So you see," Hoke went on, " it was somewhat of 
 a surprise to us when he came down Clay street in 
 San Francisco one day with a baby girl in his arms. 
 He took her into the galley and I heard him say to 
 Passiah here, ' Cookie, the old woman 's dead. Here 's 
 the kid. Look after her.' 
 
 " That was all he said and a little later we were 
 scooting out the Golden Gate bound for Hilo for sugar. 
 And there was where the boom tackles might have saved 
 the old man his life and you and me, Passiah, all this 
 pilikia (trouble). Think, sir, of a little girl playing 
 on the quarter-deck under the traveler-block, with the
 
 sheet dancing and thrumming out to the boom-end and 
 never a tackle to keep that lump of timber from swing 
 ing inboard ! And one day she had her little legs curled 
 up under the creaking block and her little ear to the 
 humming rope listening to ' the b'ass band ' when the 
 schooner fell off and the big boom hovered doubtful 
 and the big block started to come home. The old man 
 saw the kiddie and that if the boom swung she 'd be 
 crushed by the traveler like a biscuit in a dog's mouth, 
 and he jumped. Jumped, by Heaven, a good thirty 
 feet and threw her back. But the boom came home 
 and we picked him up and he died in a blanket in 
 the lee of the wheel-house with the little girl pulling 
 in his beard." 
 
 Hoke hummed a while, tilted back in his chair, and 
 the ex-cook gazed at me, shaking his head. " Go on 
 with the story," I commanded. 
 
 " We were n't any of us navigators," Hoke remarked. 
 " But we brought the schooner on down here, burying 
 the skipper out there between the coast and the islands. 
 And when we got here, they took the schooner away 
 from us and in a month we found we had just ten 
 dollars between us and the girl kid. Her share of the 
 schooner went into the courts and never came out. It 
 was right here in Palama that we came that day 
 we went broke and the three of us sat down there on 
 the bank of the stream and the little kiddie sat in the 
 middle and cried into her little frock. But we three 
 were n't going to abandon her and we swore to a paper 
 that we would go to sea and turn over our wages to
 
 THE MARY E. FOSTER 207 
 
 the girl. That was just fifteen years ago. Here 's 
 the paper." 
 
 Hoke handed out to me a piece of paper which is 
 not among my records, for a reason that I shall explain 
 in due time. But I know its wording, for it was very 
 short. It was as follows : 
 
 " We swear to this paper, so help me God no harm is to come 
 to Mary Foster till she has growed up and knows her own mind, 
 and we will pay all our pay day each time to the old woman living 
 in Aala Lane to buy her frocks and send her to school. 
 
 " THOMAS RICHARDS, A.B. 
 
 "HENRY HOKE, A.B. 
 
 "PASSIAH MINT, Cook." 
 
 Funny document, was n't it ? And when I read it 
 Hoke folded it up and tucked it away as careful as 
 if it were valuable. 
 
 " Well," I said, " so far so good. But what hap 
 pened after that ? You 're pretty slow coming to the 
 point." 
 
 " That paper 's the point," Hoke replied, buttoning 
 his jacket. " We took the little one to the old woman 
 that lived here and told her, says we, ' You feed this 
 little girl and dress her in nice frocks and keep her 
 away from the natives and we '11 pay you twenty dollars 
 a month.' Then we went away and shipped. Richards, 
 he went to Shanghai and Mint here got a berth on an 
 inter-island steamer as cook and I went back to the 
 coast in the bark Irmgarde. And every payday we 
 sent the money to the old woman here for the kiddie." 
 
 " I take it that Mint kept his eye on the girl, seeing
 
 208 ACROSS THE LATITUDES 
 
 he was traveling from here to the other islands and 
 back," said the attorney, helping him out. 
 
 " Yes," says Mint. " I ran from here to Molokai 
 and Hilo and every Saturday I went up here to see 
 how the little one was getting on. She used to like 
 to pull my whiskers." 
 
 You may imagine my impatience to get to the end 
 of the account. So I brought Hoke up with a round 
 turn and told him I did n't want any more extraneous 
 details, but the straight story of the loss of the Mary 
 E. Foster. 
 
 " It was all right for some years," he said, " till 
 Richards got on a drunk in Belfast and drank up his 
 pay day out of an English bark from the Colonies 
 a good forty pounds gone like smoke out of a pipe. 
 And the girl was growing all along and had stopped 
 being dressed in little frocks and had taken to shoes 
 and long socks as well. The old woman told us she 
 needed double the money. ' And she ought to go to 
 school down in Auckland or Sydney,' she says, ' if you 
 don't want her to take up with the natives here. She 
 is growing into a young lady.' 
 
 " That was all true, and Mint and I I came down 
 on the Falls of Clyde to see about how things was 
 going talked it over and we decided that the little 
 girl should have as good as any : ' Boarding school, 
 bonnets, silk handkerchiefs and a purse with little gold 
 pieces in it,' says Mint, t and you and me can't make 
 it on our pay days. First we drink too much and buy 
 clothes and then Richards swills the proceeds of a ten
 
 THE MARY E. FOSTER 209 
 
 months' voyage in Ireland. If we didn't drink and 
 did n't buy so many clothes when we came down to 
 see her so she can sit in our laps without getting all 
 over tar, we might make the school over in Lahaina. 
 But I get ashore and take a drink for luck and before 
 I knows it half my pay is gone on that and clothes/ 
 says Passiah. 
 
 " I felt the same way, and we were n't doing the little 
 girl justice, so when Richards turns up, after his letter, 
 we took turns making him see how rotten he had acted 
 and then we sat down to plan ways and means of 
 sending Mary Foster to school and letting her have 
 a good time. 
 
 " It would n't interest you, sir, to know how we 
 figured it out, but we did figure it that the easiest way 
 was to make it out of the insurance companies. We 
 knew they had the money and we did n't want any 
 mistakes about that end of it. So we got it." 
 
 That fellow (Mr. Garfinkle waved his hand with an 
 indescribable air of comic chagrin) plumped out with 
 this in the most matter-of-fact way, as if, by Jove, 
 all they had had to do was to decide on the sum they 
 needed and ask the insurance company for it. And I 
 had nothing to say, for they had got it. So I simply 
 waited for the rest of the story. 
 
 " We had heard the old schooner Mary E. Foster 
 was laid up and dismantled, and Passiah, here, thought 
 that was the best vessel to use. * The little girl never 
 got her rights out of it,' says he, ' and I think we can 
 get 'em for her. And besides we '11 tell her it was
 
 210 ACROSS THE LATITUDES 
 
 coming from her father's share.' You see, Mary was 
 very questionable in her manner and always wanted 
 to know everything about what we did. And we had 
 swore we would n't lie to her except about ourselves 
 for her own good, we being not exactly proper to know 
 for a young lady. 
 
 " So Richards went down to the Fijis and Passiah 
 stayed here and I went to San Francisco. I took a 
 letter up with me saying that the schooner Mary E. 
 Foster had rescued a lot of missionaries out of Rara- 
 tonga and had taken them to Tahiti. That went into 
 the paper. Then Passiah got to sending up items from 
 Auckland and the Colonies by the mail boat, all about 
 the Mary E. Foster going about with cargo. And then 
 I went and got the Mary E. Foster insured with a 
 cargo, of shell from Suva by way of Honolulu to Astoria. 
 Then Passiah and Richards met me here in Honolulu 
 and we waited till we thought it was the right time 
 and Passiah handed the purser of the Chica a letter to 
 the newspapers announcing the sailing of the schooner 
 Mary E. Foster from here to Astoria. 
 
 " Of course, being in the mud up Oakland creek 
 she would n't arrive, would she ? But everybody, hav 
 ing seen her name in the papers for some time, was 
 sure she was sailing the seas. And we were going to 
 wait a while till she was overdue and then go up to 
 the coast and collect the money. 
 
 " But Richards thought it would be better not to 
 have to wait so long and so we shipped on the Nor 
 wegian ship Hildegarde, out of Hilo round the Horn.
 
 THE MARY E. FOSTER 211 
 
 We had it all figured out, and when we had got pretty 
 well off shore we took the quarter boat and stole away 
 in the middle watch. Two days later the Mariposa 
 came up over the edge of the sea and took us aboard, 
 and it was all fixed then. We told of losing the 
 schooner, put our names down on a paper and shipped 
 outward again, all but me. I played the owner and 
 collected the money $75,000 in good money." 
 
 That was their story. Simple as addition and sub 
 traction. But you were saying, How about the Mary 
 E. Foster, Guardeen? This was the way of that, just 
 as Mint told it that afternoon at Palama. 
 
 " We had the money, all right, and we did n't know 
 just how to fix it, so one day Hoke and Richards went 
 to the bank and told them about Mary E. Foster having 
 some money left and she was a little girl and was going 
 to school in Auckland with other ladies, and how would 
 we fix the money of it? And they told us about the 
 law and the rules about all little girls having guardians. 
 Right there Hoke spoke up, ' The schooner Mary E. 
 Foster is her guardian.' 
 
 " The bank people laughed, and when we 'd explained 
 that the money was her share out of the courts, and 
 she 'd come down and talked about her father and sat 
 on our knees and smiled at everybody, the bank said 
 all right, and the money belonged to the schooner Mary 
 E, Foster, Guardian. 
 
 " So Hoke paid over the money and the bank people 
 promised to send her a good sum of money every month 
 and see that she Avas given good frocks and little gold
 
 212 ACROSS THE LATITUDES 
 
 pieces for her little purse to give to beggars and poor 
 boys on the crossings, like any little lady. Hoke took 
 her down to the Colonies in the Ventura." 
 
 Hoke squirmed a little and explained that he went 
 as quartermaster, just to keep an eye on her. 
 
 " But you landed in Shanghai out of the Fingal Bay 
 four years afterward," I suggested, just to let him 
 know I was up on the facts. You should have seen 
 Hoke look at Mint. " I knew they had an eye on us," 
 he said with a groan. " We made a bull somewhere." 
 
 " What were you doing in Shanghai ? " I insisted. 
 
 " I was taking her back to school," said Hoke 
 promptly. " She came back to Honolulu on the sly 
 to see us without letting us know, and I had to see 
 her safe to school again." 
 
 Mint laughed for the first time. " You were a toff," 
 he remarked. " Hard hat, black shoes and full shore 
 rig and a handle to your name ! " 
 
 " On my own money," Hoke interrupted sharply. 
 " And the little girl was going to be taken in style, 
 every time, and it was up to me to do it. I didn't 
 like the togs nor the cabin." 
 
 " It was a tony trip," sighed the cook, shaking his 
 head. " And you was the only one could ha' carried it 
 off in style, with the little lady calling you uncle and 
 sitting beside you on the upper deck with her little 
 hand on the arm of your chair. I saw you." 
 
 " You saw him," I interjected, puzzled. 
 
 " I was in the galley," Mint said, relaxing again, 
 " and Kichards was one of the deck stewards. And
 
 THE MARY E. FOSTER 213 
 
 nobody knew but the little lady, and she smiled and 
 thought it was a joke. Told Hoke, here, to call me 
 down one day for making her coffee too hot at tiffin. 
 But we saw her safe to school, and when we all got 
 ashore at Auckland she kissed the lot of us and tripped 
 away up the steps with her little purse on her wrist 
 and the tears in her eyes." 
 
 They fell silent and the four of us sat there a long 
 time, tilted back in our chairs. I was thinking about 
 just how to get the thing in shape for the courts, when 
 it suddenly occurred to me that it might be worth 
 while to find out where the girl was. I inquired. 
 
 " She 's in San Francisco," said Hoke, " and you '11 
 have to take it all out of us." 
 
 " When is she coming back ? " I asked. 
 
 " Never," Hoke said quietly, " and we 're just wait 
 ing till the guardeen case is settled before we start out 
 again. She 's growed up." 
 
 " We 're only sailormen," said the cook, drawing a 
 long breath, " and we 've done all the paper we swore 
 on. She 's a-going to be married to a swell up on 
 the coast, a real swell, with lots of money." 
 
 " But he 's all right," interposed Hoke hurriedly. 
 " We saw to that." 
 
 The attorney spoke up at this. " He is a young man 
 of good family and excellent prospects, Mr. Garfinkle. 
 There are several features about this case worthy of 
 careful consideration. I may state what these men 
 have omitted to state, that they have neither of them, 
 to my certain knowledge, profited personally by one
 
 214 ACROSS THE LATITUDES 
 
 cent in this transaction. Indeed, they informed me 
 yesterday that as soon as the money was turned 
 over to Miss Foster and the guardianship closed 
 up, they intended resuming their seafaring life as of 
 old." 
 
 " We won't never see her again," said the cook, 
 simply. 
 
 I had observed that Hoke was trying to speak, but 
 seemed at a loss how to begin. Finally, he blurted 
 out, " She '11 be married in a month. Let the thing 
 go till it's over with. She didn't never know any 
 thing about it and she 's getting a man that can look 
 out for her, so you can put us in jail then and 
 she '11 never know." He stooped and strangled. " You 
 might tell her," he said, catching his breath, " that 
 tell the little girl that I stole it and ran away." He 
 stopped. 
 
 Mint's face flushed and he shook his fist at Hoke. 
 r< We stole it," he bellowed. " You ain't any better 
 than me and I 'm going to do my whack. Yes, sir, 
 you take the money and the lawyer here can go up to 
 the coast and tell her Passiah Mint and Henry Hoke 
 was no good, after all she 'd done for 'em, and stole 
 the money. Then we '11 go to jail and she '11 not be 
 bothered." 
 
 " How about Richards ? " I suddenly thought to ask, 
 when they made this extraordinary proposal. 
 
 " Richards ain't in on this affair," said Mint, sav 
 agely. " We have n't told her about Richards, because 
 she thought a good deal of him. But when you tell
 
 THE MARY E. FOSTER 215 
 
 her about the stealing the money you tell her Richards 
 is dead and tell her he wrote his love to her from the 
 hospital. Hoke, give the lawyer his letter." 
 
 That letter (said Mr. Garfmkle), I have with me. 
 It has nothing to do with the case. I have it here, 
 though. 
 
 It read thus: 
 
 Deer little mary, this is to say that im not feellin vary wel and 
 must say good by and be good becuz a pakin case in Liverpool fel 
 on my belly and im in orspitel. i hav the blue riband you tied 
 my whisker whith last time i was in hanaloolu. bee a good gell. 
 Hoke and mint i kept what i swor. im sorry fer that spree in 
 belfast but that was al i don & it was too bad. She was a luvin 
 litel gell when she tide my whisker whith the riban. im dyin hard 
 on acct of my belly bein stove in. 
 
 respy Thos richards. 
 
 The lawyer took the letter and gave it to me and 
 we sat a while longer. Then Hoke got up and started 
 walking back and forth again, growling in his beard. 
 I will confess that I was somewhat puzzled to know 
 what course to pursue, and during my meditation the 
 attorney who was with me suddenly said, " Hoke, don't 
 you think you and Mint had better make the Sonoma 
 to-night ? She sails at eight o'clock for Pago-Pago. 
 Captain Hilbert told me this morning he was short- 
 handed." 
 
 I realized that I was helpless, and I tell you I sat 
 on that lanai and watched those two scoundrels walk 
 down Aala Lane with their little kits without trying 
 to stop them. When they had stamped out of sight
 
 216 ACROSS THE LATITUDES 
 
 the attorney had the impudence to smile at me. " I 
 forgot to inform you," he said, " that the matter of 
 the guardianship of Mary E. Foster, a minor, was 
 closed in court this afternoon. We decided not to 
 transfer the record to the consular court in Shanghai, 
 which Hoke and Mint insisted on for the sake of 
 secrecy. Will you join me at dinner ? " 
 
 We walked down to King street and took a car. As 
 we sped along I observed two bowed and laggard men 
 tramping along the sidewalk. The attorney waved a 
 hand towards them and said to me, " I think that the 
 matter of the schooner Mary E. Foster, Guardian, may 
 be considered purely as an historical incident." 
 
 I considered this for a time and responded, " I shall, 
 of course, have to make my report." 
 
 He took me up : " Your final report ? " 
 
 I turned and looked back up the hot, bustling street 
 and discerned the figures of two men, evidently seamen, 
 tramping side by side. From over the roofs of the 
 warehouses I heard the roar of the surf on the reef. 
 The attorney spoke again : " They will never see her 
 again." 
 
 " Then I might state, informally, that I see no good 
 ground for proceeding further," I said. " The facts 
 in the case show that they acted in what one might 
 call a purely unselfish capacity. I believe the law 
 does not contemplate the punishment of fools for their 
 folly." 
 
 I have often thought over the affair (Mr. Garfinkle 
 said, folding up the clippings and putting them back
 
 THE MARY E. FOSTER 217 
 
 in the wallet) and I do not see what interests would 
 have been subserved by a course of action other than 
 I followed. But I wish you to note that legally the 
 schooner Mary E. Foster foundered on June 12th, 1891, 
 about 300 miles east of Koke Head.
 
 T. HALDANE'S BEQUEST 
 
 " HE 's worth millions," Captain Buffle told us, with 
 a straight glance at the bulky figure treading the white 
 main deck of the Solano. " That 's T. Haldane, the 
 big broker." 
 
 " Why is he traveling on this schooner ? " Mrs. 
 White inquired. " I should think a man with his money 
 would take the Mongolia or the Miowara at least." 
 
 Buffle ignored the implied slur on his own small 
 vessel and shook his head. " They say Haldane counts 
 every minute and makes it into money," he remarked 
 with some awe. " When he took passage yesterday in 
 Honolulu I told him we might be three weeks making 
 the voyage to the coast. All he said was, ( I 'm travel 
 ing for my health.' ' 
 
 We all stared forward at the coarse, scrupulously 
 clad man who was marching back and forth below us. 
 He was almost eminent for pure physical massiveness. 
 His body was columnar ; his short, swinging arms gave 
 the impression of strength. We heard the fall of his 
 heavy feet on the planks. When he turned toward us, 
 at the end of his journey to the foremast, we saw a 
 great, pallid face, cleanly shaven, set with heavy-lidded 
 eyes that peered out over his puffy cheeks with a gross 
 and imperative glance. Mrs. White, thinned by years
 
 T. HALDANE'S BEQUEST 219 
 
 down under the line and strained by the mental effort 
 to overlay a mosaic of heathenism with the good lac 
 quer of religion, allowed an expression of distaste to 
 show in her face. Her husband, flushing slowly, said 
 only : "I wonder if he could be induced to give our 
 mission enough money to insure its growth? Possibly 
 this is providential, this meeting. In three weeks I 
 can present " 
 
 GBuffle laughed harshly. " If you get a penny out of 
 Haldane you '11 do more than all the widows and or 
 phans in the United States. Haldane eats 'em alive. 
 They say even the big men in New York are afraid 
 of him." 
 
 " How did he make his money ? " the missionary 
 asked. 
 
 " His father was Haldane of the old Cross Line 
 across the Atlantic. Old Haldane was a hummer, he 
 was. Shipmaster, mate, or sailor he beat 'em all. 
 I Ve heard the yarn that one voyage, when he was 
 already worth a million, he shipped on one of his own 
 vessels out of Boston as carpenter just for the fun 
 of licking every man aboard. ' I need exercise ; I 'm 
 gettin' too fat,' they say the old man remarked. And 
 T. Haldane got his father's money, and went right into 
 New York and doubled it. You bet he don't go to 
 sea; not much. He stops ashore and drinks his wine 
 behind the plate-glass windows and watches the poor 
 people go by. That 'a Haldane for you." The skipper 
 cocked an eye to the topsails and shook his head again. 
 
 " No matter," said the Eev. Mr. White. " In his
 
 220 ACROSS THE LATITUDES 
 
 good time the Lord can draw money from the rich 
 even as Moses drew water from the rock. Surely this 
 is a great opportunity." 
 
 We were clear of Molokai channel and out in the 
 full blast of the trades before Haldane descended into 
 the stuffy cabin for his first meal with us. At table 
 one saw the astounding bulk of the man. He over 
 flowed his chair, and his huge hands, resting on the 
 cloth, were purple monstrosities. He ate sparingly and 
 drank immoderately, much to the disgust of Mrs. White, 
 who took pains to sniff loudly each time that Haldane 
 tilted the black bottle over his glass. But such rebukes 
 did n't even penetrate the man's skin. He said nothing, 
 looked at no one; merely ate, drank, and peered into 
 space through his shuttered eyes. When his meal was 
 finished, he got up without apology, trod the creaking 
 steps to the deck, and resumed his walk. 
 
 For a week we dozed, slept, ate, and lounged under the 
 awnings. The warm breath of the wind blew constantly 
 over us, filling the sails and sending the schooner swing 
 ing to the north. All that time Haldane walked and 
 drank. The sun seemed to have no effect on his un 
 wholesome skin, and the pallor of it sank in and in, 
 as a bone whitens. He exchanged no words, even with 
 the missionary, who timidly made advances at every 
 opportunity. Usually these attempts at conversation 
 were met by a stare; once in a while Haldane would 
 stop, look over the bulwarks at the running sea, and 
 grunt inarticulately. 
 
 But when the wind died and the Solano rocked on
 
 T. HALDANE'S BEQUEST 
 
 the mirror of the ocean with crash of swinging booms 
 and occasional loud clatter of gear, the millionaire, as 
 we now called him, ceased his walks perforce and took 
 refuge with us under the quarter-deck awning. Here 
 he sat stubbornly in a big chair, his purple hands on 
 his knees, his eyes fixed resolutely on vacancy. Once, 
 or twice, it may be, he acknowledged Mrs. White's 
 presence by a nod and a dull glance. The rest of the 
 time he broke the silence only at midday when the 
 captain got up from his seat on the bitts with his slate 
 in hand and announced the day's run. Then Haldane 
 would say, very loudly, " We must have a breeze pretty 
 soon." He did not say it as a suggestion, a prophecy, 
 or a hope; he gave utterance to it as a command. 
 
 Each dawn found us swinging in the midst of the 
 windless circle of the sea. 
 
 A week of it brought even Mr. White to nervous 
 irritability. He fumed and fussed, very gently, to be 
 sure ; but still his mood was one of wrath and rebellion 
 at destiny. He would peer at the chart and ask the 
 captain questions without end, shaking his gaunt head 
 at the skipper's crabbed replies. We all of us burned 
 with dull indignation and sought some vent for it. We 
 pitched on Haldane. 
 
 You would have supposed that we were afraid of 
 him. He represented wealth and power and condign 
 cruelty. But somehow, out on the Pacific, we grew 
 a vast contempt for him. We scanned his crude bulk 
 with scorn hardly concealed. We talked over him; 
 threw our remarks around him; ignored him mali-
 
 222 ACROSS THE LATITUDES 
 
 ciously. And all the time he sat motionless in his chair, 
 his pallid face glistening with sweat, his purple hands 
 swollen on his knees, and drank and drank and drank, 
 as though the liquor that poured down his throat went 
 to cool a terrific thirst that was infinite and unap 
 peasable. 
 
 Oh, we knew him thoroughly inside of eight days. 
 We had plumbed his greed and estimated his power. 
 He might impose upon crowded people in cities. New 
 York might be afraid of Haldane, and men might 
 cringe to him. But we knew him too well, the upstart ! 
 He had been left money by his father, and by dull 
 tenacity he trebled his fortune. But he was a dunce 
 and a fool. He was hardly human. He had no soul. 
 He was an immense parasite, that 's what he was, we 
 said. He had grown like a mushroom on a muck-heap. 
 He was an unwholesome embodiment of stupid greed. 
 He was a mere gross body inhabited by an impure 
 and avaricious spirit. 
 
 We said so openly. Mr. White directed his prayers 
 against him. Mrs. White talked before his face of 
 drunkenness and vileness. Captain Buffle sneered at 
 the degenerate son of the respected shipmaster of the 
 Cross Line. Even I, used to torrid weeks on a small 
 sailing-vessel, took a peculiar pleasure in seeing how 
 close bitter personalities could come to moving the 
 stupendous conceit of the fellow. We baited him like 
 a bear in a pit. But without result. He continued 
 to stare out of his flesh-enfolded eyes with a stony and 
 imperturbable look. He drank thirstily.
 
 T. HALDANE'S BEQUEST 223 
 
 The ninth day of the calm a slight darkening of 
 the East gave us hope of wind. The oily swells began 
 to ripple a little. Far up above us hairs of cloud 
 floated on some imperceptible gale. Buffle watched 
 the swinging booms with anxious eyes while the mate 
 leaned over the bulwarks in the breast of the schooner 
 and viewed the water with surly intentness. Myself, I 
 consulted the barometer and found it falling. At sun 
 down it had dropped a half-inch since noon, and still 
 there was no wind to fill the sails. " We '11 get the 
 breeze about midnight," Buffle announced. 
 
 But midnight came, and the booms still swept back 
 and forth clangorously. The watch came on deck sleep 
 ily, and the mate stared upward with an expression 
 of doubt on his face. " I b'lieve I '11 take in them 
 tops'ls," he announced to the captain. Buffle shook 
 his head. " The glass is going down very slowly," he 
 responded. " It 's only a breeze and we must make 
 the most of it. It ought to be along now, too. If she 's 
 anyways fair, set the spinnaker, too." 
 
 I slept on deck after the watch had been changed. 
 Across from me Haldane dozed in his chair, his big 
 head on his breast. I could hear his stertorous in 
 spirations. Buffle went below, and the mate sucked 
 at his pipe by the weather rail. 
 
 Four o'clock came and the Solano still rocked on a 
 breathless sea. Above us overcast stars glimmered with 
 feeble light, and the sharp edge of the horizon was 
 dimmed by exhalations of vapor. Captain Buffle came 
 on deck and smelt the air. The mate growled some
 
 224 ACROSS THE LATITUDES 
 
 inarticulate words, and then I heard Buffle's sharp 
 answer. "No; we'll take in nothing. Let the watch 
 go below. Is the spinnaker bent ? " 
 
 " Yes, sir," was the reply. " But I 'm afraid of the 
 looks of the weather, sir. I think it will break out of 
 the southward." 
 
 " So much the better," retorted Buffle. " It '11 give 
 us a good shove on our way. We ought to make the 
 coast in a week." 
 
 The dawn kindled, sent up a spurt of light, glowed 
 furiously, and then died down again in extraordinary 
 fashion. Buffle, his mouth open, witnessed this, peered 
 along his ship in the fresh darkness, and then yelled 
 an order. The men clambered out of the forecastle. 
 Even the cook came in answer to that fierce cry. I 
 saw him emerge from the galley with a pot in one 
 hand, stare aft, and then set the pot on the deck with 
 a deliberate motion, exactly in the way of the mate 
 plunging forward with a roar. Three men appeared 
 (very dimly) in the weather shrouds. Then the sky 
 immediately above us opened slowly, allowed a tre 
 mendous light to flash on us and closed again with a 
 terrific peal. I jumped to the cuddy steps and stuck 
 there, clawing at the side rail. For the Solano was 
 being forced backward by some overwhelming and 
 silent force. 
 
 The blackness was appalling. I could barely see the 
 sheen of the sails above me, but I could distinctly hear 
 the crack and give of the masts, the slow tearing of 
 the cordage, and the gurgling of the water under the
 
 Even the cook came in answer to that fierce cry. 
 
 Page 224
 
 T. HALDANE'S BEQUEST 225 
 
 schooner's stern. The wind had come on us like an 
 explosion, from dead ahead, the boom tackles had not 
 been cast off, the head sails were not abroad, and 
 we were being driven astern while the shouting crew 
 tried to cast off tackles and give the schooner a 
 chance for her life. The comparative quiet was very 
 odd. 
 
 While I stood in the cuddy-way a huge bulk sud 
 denly got in front of me, and I caught a glimpse of 
 Haldane going down on deck. He could hardly have 
 reached it when with a roar the gear carried away 
 forward, the foretopmast went by the board, and the 
 schooner swung round slowly to the tune of banging 
 canvas, crashing gaffs, and ripping shrouds. For the 
 second time the horizon grew light. The sun rose 
 through a mass of whirling cloud and lit up a foamy, 
 wind-swept circle of sea through the middle of which 
 the schooner sagged sickly along, half dismantled. The 
 squall went by and we rocked wildly in broken water 
 for five minutes. Then the gale burst upon us from 
 the southwest. 
 
 We worked all morning to get the poor vessel in 
 shape. But we made little progress. The foremast 
 quit us, the main topmast was broken off and flung 
 completely clear, and the mizzen tottered between 
 shivering stays. The main gaff stuck up out of the 
 smashed deck by the pump, just as it had brought up 
 after plumping clean through the planks endwise. 
 Forward a few rags of canvas beat on the bowsprit. 
 On the forecastle-head the spinnaker boom lay across
 
 226 ACROSS THE LATITUDES 
 
 two boats which it had split into kindling-wood as it 
 fell. 
 
 This was not so bad, but the rising sea soon showed 
 us that the schooner was leaking. We tackled the 
 pumps, the fly-wheels spun, and two streams of muddy 
 brine flowed out over the deck. The carpenter reported 
 six feet of water in the hold. For the first time I 
 heard Haldane's voice. He was across from me, his 
 great hands on a pump-bar, his vast shoulders going 
 up and down as we pumped. " We shall have to take 
 to the boat," he said in a loud, commanding tone. He 
 pumped on, as though he had spoken and that finished 
 it. I was amazed at the man's strength and energy. 
 
 In a few hours the gale had blown itself out and 
 we were leaving the wreck in the single boat left un 
 injured. The cook had stowed it well with provisions 
 and water, Buffle had passed down his instruments, 
 and the mate was fending us off from the schooner's 
 low side with the steering-oar. " Why does n't Haldane 
 come ? " Buffle demanded, looking down at us. 
 
 " I am here," said Haldane, appearing behind him. 
 
 We watched him slip over the side and deposit his 
 great weight in our little craft with many misgivings. 
 One of the seamen went so far as to scowl at him 
 and murmur a protest. Haldane turned with amazing 
 quickness and stared at the poor fellow with paralyzing 
 fixity. Then he sat down. Buffle swung himself down 
 among us, the mate thrust the boat away, and we 
 dipped off on the next swell. Then the men got out 
 their oars and we started on the long, toilsome voyage
 
 T. HALDANE'S BEQUEST 227 
 
 to the coast, eight hundred miles away. There were 
 twelve of us crowded into the boat. We had food and 
 water for two weeks. Owing to the smallness of the 
 boat the others could not be repaired nobody had 
 been able to bring anything with him, except Mr. 
 White, whose Bible stuck out of his pocket. Haldane 
 held a small wallet in his hand. 
 
 The next three days passed with intense slowness. 
 The principal memory I have of this period is that 
 the moon, being in the full, shone down on us with 
 great brightness at night and that Haldane insisted 
 on sitting under the paltry shade of his handkerchief, 
 which he elevated above him on three slivers of wood 
 stuck into his hat. We laughed at him and he said 
 nothing, except that he nodded when Mr. and Mrs. 
 White followed his example, using a bit of sail cloth. 
 " I have observed," the missionary explained, " that 
 the light of the full moon is bad for people with poor 
 circulation." 
 
 Probably he was quite right, for I think it was to 
 the effect of the dazzling moonlight that our troubles 
 of the next days were due. First, our food spoiled. 
 It had to be thrown overboard. Then the water went 
 bad in the cask, leaving us only enough for two days 
 in a smaller receptacle. As we rowed constantly 
 there was no fair wind and the sun was broiling hot 
 the lack of water became a serious business in a 
 very few hours. Very likely it was lucky that the food 
 rotted first, or else .we should have had more trouble 
 than we did go through, which was horrible enough,
 
 228 ACROSS THE LATITUDES 
 
 of course. I shall not enlarge. At the end of the 
 sixth day in the small boat there were just six of us 
 left: Mr. and Mrs. White, Haldane, Buffle, the mate, 
 and myself. The good water was all gone, except a 
 single quart. There was nothing to eat but a few 
 biscuit crumbs. Buffle was dying of a wound he had 
 received in a struggle with a crazed sailor, and the 
 mate was only half conscious and continually combed 
 his grizzled hair with his fingers, like a sleepy child. 
 The missionary crouched on a thwart with his Bible 
 open before him. His wife lay quietly back on a bit 
 of sail cloth, her blue-veined face turned to the sapphire 
 sky. In the sternsheets sat Haldane, his great pallid 
 countenance set upon some invisible point to which 
 we were making. Haldane had taken command when 
 Buffle finally gave up the struggle to lie and think 
 of his approaching end. It had been Haldane's bull 
 strength that saved us from the vicious attack of thirsty 
 madmen, his calm authority that forbade the wasteful 
 excess which the remainder of us would have indulged 
 in as a sort of defiant revel before dying. Now, as 
 the sun went down the western sky, he held the loom 
 of the steering-oar in a powerful grasp while I rowed. 
 Our progress was infinitesimal. That, Haldane had 
 said comfortingly, did not matter. " We shall be 
 picked up by a passing vessel," he rumbled. 
 
 The bottle containing the fresh water and the bag 
 of biscuit crumbs lay between his huge legs. 
 
 In the night Buffle died, White praying fervidly 
 through cracked lips for his departing soul. The last
 
 T. HALDANE'S BEQUEST 229 
 
 moments were broken by Mrs. White's attempt to spill 
 our remaining water down the dying man's throat. 
 Haldane had silently grasped the bottle (she had it 
 already tipped over Buffle's gaping mouth) and put it 
 back with the crackers. " But he is dying ! " Mrs. 
 White sobbed wildly. " Give him water ! " 
 
 " Water ! " Buffle gasped, his head rolling on the 
 thwart. 
 
 But Haldane was deaf, and simply gazed out across 
 the sea through his puffy-lidded eyes. 
 
 When Buffle was dead, Mrs. White stumbled to 
 Haldane's feet and reviled him. " You will see us all 
 perish, you brute ! " she cried at him. " You use your 
 strength to keep the water for yourself ! " 
 
 He did not notice her. 
 
 When it was dark I drew in my oars and dozed. I 
 wakened many times and saw Haldane still at the 
 steering-oar, still silent, still immovable. Just before 
 dawn he held out the bottle of water to Mrs. White. 
 " Drink one swallow, and give it to your husband/' 
 he said. 
 
 She put the vessel to her lips and I expected to 
 see her gulp down a cupful. But instead she merely 
 tasted it and passed the bottle on to her husband. 
 He sipped a little and returned to his Bible. I then 
 drank a little and was handing it on to the mate when 
 Haldane said quietly, " Pass the bottle to me." 
 
 I don't know why, but I obeyed. The drowsing 
 mate made no sign that he had heard. Haldane corked 
 the bottle and tucked it between his legs again. Later
 
 230 ACROSS THE LATITUDES 
 
 he opened his lips to say : " If the mate can hold out 
 long enough, that water in the keg will be good again. 
 Rotten water always gets good again." 
 
 " But you have n't had a drink yourself," I sug 
 gested. He did not answer me. In the afternoon we 
 got a fine breeze from the westward and Haldane and 
 I hoisted the sail. That night Mrs. White and her 
 husband finished the fresh water. 
 
 At noon the next day the mate got up slowly, washed 
 his face and hands in the sea water, scanned some 
 invisible tops'ls in the sky, croaked out an inarticulate 
 order, and fell overboard like a stone. In the silence 
 that followed the missionaries' ejaculated prayer, 
 Haldane emitted a calm sentence, " He could not 
 wait." 
 
 The next forty-eight hours we spent in the miser 
 able business of waiting for the water in our remaining 
 cask to clear up. I suppose it had never been very 
 good. It seethed and gave up vile odors to our parched 
 nostrils; it even foamed in filthy scum over the staves 
 around the bung. In that period we drew closer, 
 White and his wife and I, to the strong, swollen- 
 visaged man who ruled us. For he gave us hope and 
 somewhat of his own infinite endurance. I fancy 
 that we drew out of his very heart those hot hours. 
 I see him yet, his unwieldly bulk squeezed between 
 the gunwales of our little boat, his blistered, purple 
 hand on the oar, his hanging jaws set in grim, harsh 
 lines, his eyes looking out of their fat sockets with 
 incredible and serene confidence. He was gross,
 
 T. HALDANE'S BEQUEST 231 
 
 drunken, cruel, selfish, greedy, soulless, predatory. 
 He looked it. And yet he poured round us the supreme 
 mightiness of his self-centered spirit. He enveloped us 
 in the garment of his own sufficiency against God and 
 His world. He scorned even the ravenous sea. He 
 lifted no eyelid at Death. He seemed without thirst, 
 without hunger, without weakness, eternally confront 
 ing destiny with imperturbable and astounding calm. 
 
 Even White would involuntarily release his eyes 
 from the pages of the Bible and seek that huge visage 
 as a child looks for help in a man's face. Mrs. White, 
 whose heart flamed within her as she, woman-like, 
 thought over all that had happened, now and again 
 peered up at him with a tremulous glance of hope. 
 And at great intervals hours apart he would say, 
 without looking at her, " We must wait till the water 
 is good." He steered steadily eastward. 
 
 In the cool of the third night after the mate left us 
 the water in the cask subsided. At dawn I dipped 
 into it and brought the bottle up filled with clear 
 liquid. We drank sparingly. White croaked a thanks 
 giving. 
 
 Two more days passed and still the westerly wind 
 held, and we slowly forged our path toward land. 
 Then the wind settled down in the east and our frail 
 craft tossed miserably over the chop. I noticed that 
 Haldane no longer took his share of water. Besides 
 this I saw a strange thing about him his great pallor 
 seemed to be breaking up like a shell. His skin hung 
 in folds over his shrunken features. His hands alone
 
 kept their former size. His forehead assumed a glassy 
 look, as if it were polished. But he gave no sign of 
 weakness. I cannot even say that he slept. None of 
 us ever saw him close his eyes. 
 
 Lack of food now made itself felt. Mrs. White was 
 too weak to sit up, and lay in the bottom of the boat, 
 sighing. Her husband read his Bible by fits and starts, 
 but mostly stared out to the eastward as if he, too, 
 caught a glimpse of the invisible goal on which 
 Haldane's eyes were set. Yet his mind wandered. 
 Now and then he prayed with startling unction. Again 
 he would mutter texts in an unknown tongue. At 
 such times Haldane would stare more profoundly than 
 ever across the windy sea and his shrunken face would 
 assume a faint color, as though the blood were driven 
 by an effort of his terrific will into the outer vessels. 
 
 I cannot tell you how long we had thus suffered 
 when I woke from my doze over the oars to hear 
 White's voice rising energetically behind me. I glanced 
 over my shoulder and saw the missionary kneeling 
 on a thwart, his closed Bible under an arm, the other 
 arm stretched out toward Haldane. He was preaching. 
 
 An odd sermon it was, too, directed at Haldane, the 
 millionaire. White described him as he was a cold, 
 heartless, money-grabbing capitalist. He didn't spare 
 him. Having laid this foundation, he warned him of 
 the consequences of hardening his heart against the 
 cry of the Lord's poor, read him the law in words of 
 fire, and wound up by asking him to contribute ten 
 thousand dollars to the Kaukama Island Mission.
 
 T. HALDANE'S BEQUEST 233 
 
 It sounds comic. But It lost that aspect inside of 
 three days. For after the sermon was over, White 
 delivered part of a prayer, slipped down beside his 
 wife, and stared sightlessly at the heavens for hours. 
 Then he got up and delivered the sermon all over again. 
 Again he fell back by his wife and was speechless. 
 Again he suddenly roused up and repeated his sermon. 
 Inside of three days Haldane had listened to that 
 appeal a dozen times and never fluttered an eyelid. 
 
 At the end of the third day I dished out the water 
 all around and answered Haldane's inquiring look by 
 answering, " Still living, both of them." He nodded. 
 At midnight he stirred in his seat and said in a hoarse 
 voice, " We are within forty miles of the coast of 
 California. If you use the water sparingly and steer 
 due east as well as you can, you will be picked up 
 before to-morrow night." 
 
 The sun was setting behind him and its effulgence 
 glorified him for a moment. I could not distinguish 
 his face. But he reached out his huge hand and 
 dropped a paper and his wallet on my knee. The 
 movement of the boat waked White, and he stretched 
 himself up and croaked, " Ten thousand dollars for 
 the saving of heathen souls ! " 
 
 The sun dipped, and Haldane's face started out of 
 the glow, distinct, pallid, serene. His steady eyes fixed 
 themselves on me with a profound and searching look. 
 " Steer to the east," he said in a strong voice. " You 
 will be picked up. See that my will is duly executed." 
 
 I started up weakly as the loom of the oar rose
 
 234 ACROSS THE LATITUDES 
 
 slowly as his hand released it. The huge, pallid face 
 darkened swiftly. The eyes in the heavy-lidded sockets 
 became sightless. A sigh resolute, deep, final ex 
 pression of an immitigable will breathed out over 
 us. Haldane was dead. 
 
 He was too heavy for me to shove overboard. So 
 I let him stay as he was, a stern figure of death. In 
 the morning a steamer sighted us and took us up, White 
 murmuring snatches of his greatest and most effectual 
 sermon, while Mrs. White sighed interminably into 
 the faces of the pitiful rescuers. The next night we 
 were in San Francisco, and two days later I deposited 
 with Haldane, McCoy & Pitts the last instructions 
 of their superior. It was written as follows: 
 
 "I instruct my executors to pay to the order of Rev. J. 
 White the sum of $10,000 to be used by him in his mission work 
 at his own discretion. The further sum of $25,000 I direct to 
 be paid to Mrs. Henry Buffle, widow of Captain Henry Buffle 
 of the schooner Solano, as payment in full for one drink of 
 water contributed by her husband to Mr. and Mrs. White's 
 missionary cause. T. HALDANE." 
 
 When they had read it, I stopped a moment for a 
 question : " I suppose that is all right ? The money 
 will be given to the Whites and Mrs. Buffle ? " 
 
 McCoy and Pitts looked at me coldly. " Such are 
 Mr. Haldane's orders," they announced together. 
 " And Mr. Haldane always had his own way about 
 things. The money will be paid. I believe no one 
 would care to dispute Mr. Haldane's wishes, even if 
 he has unfortunately been taken from us."
 
 T. HALDANE'S BEQUEST 235 
 
 Later I attended Haldane's funeral. They buried 
 him with pomp. Mrs. White, sitting weakly in her 
 hired carriage, mourned the dead man sincerely. " He 
 must have been such a lovely man! " she whispered. 
 " I should have liked to have thanked him ! " 
 
 She wept bitterly on the edge of the solemn and 
 tearless crowd.
 
 THE OLDEST JOURNALIST IN THE 
 SOUTH SEAS 
 
 I 
 THE PEBSISTENCE OF THE UNINSPIRED 
 
 THE Oldest Journalist in the South Seas had just 
 come into the hot reporters' room of the Honolulu 
 " Advertiser." The screen door, outside which the 
 night mosquitoes hummed, slammed on the flying tail 
 of his linen jacket, and the librarian came forth from 
 his dusty den to see what stirred. His voice he was 
 incredibly old met the Oldest Journalist as he 
 crossed the cramped room to his desk. " Has the 
 Mauna Loa got in ? " 
 
 The new-comer nodded his head, tucked his rescued 
 coat-tail into his breeches pocket, scowled at the electric 
 light, and addressed the librarian. " Yes. Beastly 
 trip. Have you got a cut of old Simpkins in that 
 graveyard of yours ? " 
 
 " Simpkins ? Simpkins ? " repeated the keeper of 
 our Colonial exchanges, London " Times," and copper 
 t( cuts " of the famous and infamous. " You mean 
 Simpkins of Lanai ? "
 
 THE OLDEST JOURNALIST 237 
 
 " I do not," replied the Oldest Journalist, throwing 
 a raffle of papers to the floor and squaring his elbows 
 to write. " I mean Phineas Simpkins." 
 
 It was truthfully said that our librarian, whose life 
 was a tissue of memories of the tropics, could, if given 
 time, remember anything about any person who ever 
 impinged on the sphere that contains the three social 
 circles of the Missionary, the Trader, and the Native. 
 So now he paused, his hand on the screen door that 
 separated his closet from ours. His dim eyes sought 
 the skylight, through whose wired squares the stars 
 peered in. " Simpkins, Simpkins," he whispered 
 gently. 
 
 God knows the name is nothing to conjure up 
 thoughts; and yet, as that unbelievably old gentleman 
 stood there murmuring that pair of ridiculous syllables, 
 his face marked the course of the backward tide of re 
 membrance. I dare say he saw odd figures of whalers- 
 men, gaunt missionaries, sallow traders, pompous 
 attaches to forgotten envoys from big powers to petty 
 princes a long procession of Simpkinses ; at any 
 rate, he stood there a full five minutes, while the 
 Oldest Journalist growled over his pencil and vocifer 
 ated about the drying up of his paste-pot. Suddenly 
 the librarian gave vent to a queer sound. It was 
 half chuckle of glee at finding what he sought, half 
 grunt of incredulity. " There 's only one Simpkins 
 on the Islands now," he said, tapping his nose with his 
 eyeglasses. " Ha, ha ! " 
 
 The Chinese copyholder, awaiting a correction on
 
 238 ACROSS THE LATITUDES 
 
 some proof, reminded us of his presence by a feeble, 
 tittering " Hee, hee ! " a shrill echo of the librarian's 
 laugh. At its sound the Oldest Journalist suddenly 
 flung himself upon a " Marine Register," hurled it at 
 the Chinaman, picked up his empty paste-pot, and 
 slammed it on his table, bellowing : " Simpkins ! 
 Simpkins of Molokai ! " 
 
 The copyholder fled. The librarian chuckled again 
 and withdrew to gaze through his screen door at 
 the Oldest Journalist. " My dear fellow," he said 
 calmly, " of course I have n't got any cut of Simpkins 
 of Molokai. I have the pictures of many villains 
 and some fools in here, but this paper is not 
 spending money in buying copper half-tones of 
 buffoons." 
 
 " Buffoon ! " thundered the other, to our intense 
 amazement. " Why, you senile old scrapbook maker, 
 how dare you ? " And the Oldest Journalist flung out 
 of the office. He did not return for fifteen minutes, 
 and we heard the librarian pottering over his files, 
 muttering continually and scornfully, " Simpkins of 
 Molokai!" 
 
 The next quarter of an hour saw the staff vanish, 
 except myself, who had to see the paper to press after 
 deciphering and expanding the cablegram from San 
 Francisco. It was very warm, and the mosquitoes 
 hummed under the lights, while I sought refuge in 
 tobacco. The Oldest Journalist came back quietly and 
 resumed his pencil. The librarian slipped out of his 
 sanctum, looked at the Oldest Journalist (they were
 
 THE OLDEST JOURNALIST 239 
 
 thirty-year friends) with a glance of mild pity, and 
 vanished, as the extremely old and emaciated do r with 
 a delicate and paperish sound. The " late watch " had 
 begun. 
 
 I picked up the last number of the Shanghai " Bund " 
 to read of the doings of a Council in which I had no 
 possible interest and puzzle at the initials of scandalous 
 personages of whom I had never heard. The Oldest 
 Journalist's pencil scraped on. The Chinese copyholder 
 emerged from time to time and inquired in his shrill 
 English as to the spelling of ponderous words in the 
 " old man's " leader ; the foreman came in to inquire 
 about the " cable," and its probable lateness, and to 
 anathematize, as he had done nightly since we had been 
 united to the Coast by a " wire," the slowness, ignorance, 
 and presumable inebriety of the man in San Francisco 
 whose duty it was to summarize the diary of the world 
 in seventy-five words. The proof-reader, gentlest of 
 souls, whose wife in Denver was his sole thought 
 apart from the mosquitoes dropped in to inquire 
 when the next steamer with mail from the States might 
 reasonably be expected. The telephone rang to an 
 nounce that a Japanese on trial for his life at Hilo 
 had been acquitted per wireless. Still the Oldest Jour 
 nalist wrote on. 
 
 " You 'd better rush if you 're going to get your last 
 car for Kaimuki," I suggested finally. 
 
 He threw down his pencil and bit savagely at the 
 end of a woe-begone cigar. " Did that imbecile libra 
 rian find a cut of Simpkins ? " he demanded.
 
 240 ACROSS THE LATITUDES 
 
 " He scorned you," I said tranquilly. " He pooh- 
 poohed you and Simpkins for a quarter of an hour and 
 faded." 
 
 " I Ve got to have a picture to run with this story," 
 said the Oldest Journalist decidedly. 
 
 " Is it a good yarn ? " I asked, professionally 
 interested. 
 
 " Not so you would see it in print," was the curt 
 answer. 
 
 " Who was this Simpkins ? " I continued. 
 
 " He was the great example of the Persistence of the 
 Uninspired," the Oldest Journalist responded, pushing 
 the shade back from his eyes and lighting his cigar. 
 " He is dead." 
 
 " Funny I never heard of him," I mused, " in view 
 of the fact that you are writing columns about him and 
 asking for a picture to embellish the obituary. Was 
 he a prince or potentate ? " 
 
 " Of course you never heard of him," was the tart 
 rejoinder. " That 's why I 'm writing all this. This is 
 news." 
 
 He resumed his pencil for a moment and then paused, 
 looked over at me, and slowly leaned back in his chair. 
 " I wish you 'd go into old Scrapbook's sanctum and go 
 through all the cuts to see if there is n't one of a fat 
 man with a chin whisker and bald head," he remarked. 
 " An old picture of Napoleon III might pass. Nobody 
 here will know the difference." 
 
 It happened that we did have a dusty copper en 
 graving of the lamented Emperor of the French. The
 
 THE OLDEST JOURNALIST 241 
 
 Oldest Journalist blew the dust off it, gazed at the 
 lineaments depicted on the metal, and nodded. " That '11 
 do all right. Just write a caption to run under it: 
 ' Phineas Simpkins, who died widely mourned by the 
 community in which he lived and bore a prominent 
 part.' Get that ? " 
 
 He took off his jacket and returned to his writing. 
 A little later he glanced up to remark, " I 'm not as 
 crazy as people will think I am to-morrow." 
 
 " You evidently ignore my opinion of to-night," I 
 replied. 
 
 The Oldest Journalist stopped, picked out of the mass 
 of papers on his table a small clipping, and tossed it 
 over to me. " Read that," he said. 
 
 I read the item, apparently cut many years before 
 out of some country weekly in the interior of the 
 United States. " This is the obituary of Thomas F. 
 Adams," I said. "He died on April 14th, 1879, in 
 Libertyville, Iowa, on his farm, after a long illness. 
 He was much lamented, a good father and a careful 
 business man, and was a deacon in the Methodist 
 Church. That 's all I see in this. What has it to do 
 with Simpkins of Molokai ? " 
 
 " The late Thomas F. Adams," the Oldest Journalist 
 replied, " never knew Phineas Simpkins, nor was 
 Simpkins in any way. related to him, nor did Simpkins 
 know Adams or ever see him alive, nor had he any 
 earthly interest in his death, burial, or obituary, that 
 you or I could ravel out. But that eulogy, printed in 
 that little weekly, is the reason I 'm writing this eulogy
 
 242 ACROSS THE LATITUDES 
 
 in the tropics, and the whole affair is the direct result 
 and outcome of the Persistence of the Uninspired." 
 
 The speaker was not a man used to talking riddles. 
 Indeed, his language was usually not only plain, but 
 bald. I pinned him down. " Who is this Simpkins 
 you 're talking about, anyway ? " 
 
 "Did you ever see a man who never could say an 
 interesting thing ? Who never had a glance of the eye 
 that betokened anything behind it ? Who invariably 
 did the most commonplace act possible under the cir 
 cumstances ? Who bored you in a crowd and staggered 
 you with his vacuity when you were alone with him ? 
 Did you ever know a man whose circle of thought 
 would pinch, the waist of a peanut, and who incessantly 
 attempted to converse by using the worn phrases of any 
 fool who had been with him previously ? Did you ever, 
 my son, have to spend three days on a rolling inter- 
 island steamer with a man incapable of anything but 
 exasperating dumbness or maddening loquacity ? " The 
 Oldest Journalist's vigor was extreme, and he thumped 
 his paste-pot on the table resoundingly. 
 
 " What did Simpkins do to you ? " I pursued, assum 
 ing his interrogations to be rhetorical. 
 
 " Everything ! " was the response. " He achieved 
 the impossible, and I 'm going to give him a column in 
 to-morrow's paper. Listen. You won't get this in the 
 1 Advertiser ' of to-morrow's date. . . . 
 
 " I can only approach this thing chronologically. 
 Simpkins was born, apparently of commonplace parents, 
 in a small town in the domestic part of Illinois or
 
 THE OLDEST JOURNALIST 243 
 
 what was, in his day. I spent a year of my young life 
 in the Middle West, as they call it now, and I tell you 
 that no people under the sun have more virtues or less 
 curiosity about vice than those folk who live back there 
 where we never know what 's going on. And Simpkins 
 came from there; with his little religion, his neglected 
 education, and his dullness. God knows what brought 
 him to the South Seas. He had no romance in his 
 make-up, and you could n't have explained the word 
 ' adventure ' to him. He just came. It happened to 
 be the utterly commonplace thing to do. And down 
 here he merely ' stayed,' as they say of people whose 
 movements are directed by no visible emotions or desires. 
 
 " I made his acquaintance years ago. You could n't 
 use the expression ' got to know him.' One never can 
 know a fence-post. I laughed at him, just as that 
 librarian laughed to-night. But he took a terrible re 
 venge. He made me a victim of the Persistence of the 
 Uninspired! " 
 
 It was comical to see the Oldest Journalist's discon 
 certment. He was tremendously put out, and tore at 
 his cigar savagely. 
 
 " Time has nothing to do with such people as 
 Simpkins, except to record their movements and decay. 
 But still, there was a chronological sequence to this 
 history. First Simpkins came to Hawaii. He stayed. 
 He worked in an utterly uninspired way at a most 
 prosaic trade. He made money. Then he went back 
 to the States. Did n't go back ' home,' as everybody 
 else does. He merely ' returned. 7 Then he came back
 
 244 ACROSS THE LATITUDES 
 
 here, and in due course I was shut up in the same 
 cabin on the Likelike with him for three days with 
 nobody to talk to. 
 
 " He was speechless for three hours, and then dug 
 up from memory a sentence about the weather. He 
 talked weather and there is no such article this thou 
 sand miles either way till I was almost insane. Then 
 he maundered about something else. In a thousand 
 sentences he couldn't wake a single idea. His voice, 
 his tone, his manner were uninspired. He was incapable 
 of anything like human variety of thought. I loathed 
 him as I would a street piano I had heard for an 
 eternity. 
 
 " The third day came, and the gale that was piling 
 the surf up on Molokai moderated. Simpkins came to 
 me. ' If the wind goes down awhile, the sea will be 
 smoother/ he said. 
 
 " l Are you going ashore along here ? ' I demanded. 
 
 " * At Kalaupapa/ he returned. 
 
 " Now you don't always feel like asking a man why 
 he 's going ashore at a leper colony. In those days you 
 could get a permit to go to Kalaupapa almost any time. 
 It 's stricter now. So we lay off that amphitheater of 
 polyglot misery, and Simpkins got his baggage together. 
 As we waited for the boat, he came to say good-by. 
 1 1 'm going to live there/ he said. ' I think the climate 
 is good.' 
 
 " For an instant I thought Simpkins had really a 
 brain working in his head. It was a ghastly joke he 
 had just cracked. But I actually liked him the better
 
 THE OLDEST JOURNALIST 245 
 
 for it. Then I found out that it was no joke. He 
 had n't the leprosy. He had nothing but his poor wit 
 less head and money. Do you know what he had done ? 
 Listen : 
 
 " He had gone to the Health Officer here and an 
 nounced that he wanted to go to Molokai. ' Sure,' said 
 the doctor, thinking he was urged by curiosity, and 
 gave him his pass. In due time he landed through the 
 surf and walked into the strangest town in the world. 
 The steamer sent the last boat ashore, and the mate 
 yelled for Simpkins. He did n't appear. The steamer 
 left, and a couple of weeks later the Health Officer 
 got a letter from one of the lunas of Molokai that 
 made him tear his hair. Simpkins had actually settled 
 in the leper colony, spite of the laws of the kingdom 
 and of society. 
 
 " Now, my son, you 're thinking of Father Damien, 
 the missioners, and such. Forget all that. Simpkins 
 was uninspired. He told me why he did this thing, 
 and you will probably laugh when you hear it. Fancy 
 this dull chap fixing his eternal abode in an accursed 
 vale where one hears only the cracked voice of the leper 
 and sees only the hopeless living dead. It makes your 
 heart beat a bit faster, doesn't it? But look at that 
 obituary of that obscure late lamented in Iowa. It 
 was scribbled one afternoon in Libertyville when the 
 willows were budding along the muddy creek banks, 
 and the children were making whistles children who 
 have whistled many tunes since and gone their ways 
 apart. The editor probably thought when he wrote those
 
 246 ACROSS THE LATITUDES 
 
 words that lie would attend the auction of the deceased's 
 livestock and maybe buy a horse or a cow. But 
 Simpkins is dead in Molokai because of that paragraph." 
 
 The Oldest Journalist made an extraordinary grimace 
 at the ceiling and flung his cigar butt against the screen 
 door. " Laugh ! " he cried. " But I must get it off 
 my mind. I have moiled over Simpkins till I am fair 
 crazy. I am a victim, and my only hope of release is 
 this column article in the paper to-morrow morning." 
 
 " Don't get worked up over it," I remonstrated. " It 
 is too hot. Out with your story." 
 
 " There is n't any story," he wailed. " It 's positively 
 the dullest affair you ever heard of. There is n't any 
 inspiration in years of it. 
 
 " When Simpkins had got pretty much a fixture on 
 Molokai, and his reputation was hopelessly compromised, 
 and various claimants of his wealth were agitating 
 having him declared incompetent and a guardian ap 
 pointed, I went down on the annual trip of inspection. 
 You know the sort : officials, some reporters, and a few 
 friends of the Kalaupapans go over for a day's riding 
 through the settlement, auditing of accounts and visiting. 
 
 " It was my fate to go, a few years back. I had 
 not seen Simpkins nor heard much of him, but one of 
 the first men I saw in that town of pestilence was he. 
 He waddled along under a ridiculous sunshade, his 
 fat arms bulging from a thin jacket, his whiskers blow 
 ing in the breeze, his bald head shining with perspira 
 tion. It was the most incongruous sight I ever saw. 
 The maimed shuffled by with bound feet; the wind
 
 THE OLDEST JOURNALIST 247 
 
 brought odors of antiseptic and balm. Chinese chat 
 tered along the way, flat of voice, shriveled of limb. 
 Kanakas barked out greetings and smiled miserably. 
 White men, carrying themselves with a final jauntiness, 
 waved their dry arms. Babies played under the 
 papayas, played silently. And through this throng 
 waddled Simpkins, obtrusively healthy, his full face 
 flushed with clean blood. 
 
 " He insisted on talking. I don't remember what he 
 said. He bored me intensely. The visitors scattered, 
 and by some mischance I fell into the hands of Simpkins, 
 alone. ' You must come up to my house for dinner,' 
 he insisted. ' I have had some good chickens killed. 
 We must hurry, because I don't know whether you like 
 them stewed or baked.' And he talked chicken all the 
 way to his gaudy house. 
 
 " It was a queer mansion to rise among those groves 
 of pain. It was painted a vile red, with yellow trim 
 mings. No vine grew over its nakedness. It sat in 
 a bare yard, through which a gravel walk ran as 
 straight as a string. He took me in and immediately 
 sat down on a porch. ' How do you like our town ? ' 
 he demanded. 
 
 " I could have struck him for the sleek tone of those 
 outrageous words. But he wiped his forehead and 
 went on : ' We have made many improvements the past 
 year. We have built a theater with a ball room over 
 it. We had a wedding there two months ago. A fine 
 young couple, too. I think they enjoyed our little 
 festivities.'
 
 248 ACROSS THE LATITUDES 
 
 " Travesty of mercy ! I got up. I could not eat 
 the bread of such a man. It suddenly occurred to 
 me that he had a most devilish rancour against his 
 race. He was the Satan of this unspeakable hell. 
 But he was warmly hospitable when I rose, and called 
 for a drink of beer. The servant a leper shuffled 
 out with it, and we drank. Simpkins nodded over his 
 beer and sighedr ' I understand they say in Honolulu 
 I am crazy,' he remarked abruptly. 
 
 " ' They don't see why a well man should bury 
 himself in this asylum without any object,' I 
 paltered. 
 
 " ' Hum! ' he ejaculated, with an indescribable pon- 
 derousness. l Hum ! ' 
 
 " ' Personally,' I continued, ( I fail to see what you 
 came here for. You came for no charitable purpose. 
 No one but a brute could enjoy the sight of this or 
 ganized misery.' 
 
 " Simpkins looked at me with a puzzled face. ' I 
 don't catch your meaning,' he said. 
 
 " ' I mean,' I recollect saying, ' that your coming here 
 is offensive/ 
 
 " His flat face became drawn in a violent effort to 
 disengage my intention from my words. I rather en 
 joyed it. He squirmed in his chair, and the sunshade 
 (which he had deposited by his side) rolled away and 
 off the porch. He waddled over and with prodigious 
 exertions recovered it. Then he sat down again and 
 stared at me. ' I have no intention of being offensive 
 to you,' he said. ' You are a friend of mine. T&hy,
 
 THE OLDEST JOURNALIST 249 
 
 my dear fellow, I had no intention whatever of being 
 offensive, none whatever ! ' 
 
 " What could I say ? I retreated. I enlarged on the 
 fact that personally I had nothing against him. I men 
 tioned that outside, in Honolulu, the people who had 
 known him did not understand his sudden departure 
 and voluntary descent into a living death. Then it 
 came out. I don't know whether you will understand 
 it at all. But I shall try to be plain. Frankly, I am 
 not sure of all this myself that is, I sometimes think 
 I fail to catch some vital point, some point in the 
 Persistence of the Uninspired. 
 
 " Simpkins drew closer to me, hitching his chair up 
 the porch, with various expressions of regard. He 
 finally came to rest and gazed at me with a look of 
 importance. ' You see,' he said, * I have a place in 
 the community here. Really, my dear fellow, I am 
 one of the principal men of Kalaupapa! I was the 
 head of the committee on the new theater, and I was 
 chairman of the floor committee of the first ball. The 
 paper mentioned me here in flattering terms.' 
 
 " I am not going to bother you with the details of 
 his talk, except to state that I firmly believe Simpkins 
 had never in his life had a home. !No, he did n't come 
 from Libertyville, Iowa. He came from Illinois. From 
 that village in which he had first lived, to the boisterous 
 streets of San Francisco and the dissipations of Hono 
 lulu, he had been Simpkins, plain Simpkins, waddling 
 on his uninspired way, meeting men whom he bored, 
 viewing other men honored, liked, loved; the universal
 
 250 ACROSS THE LATITUDES 
 
 word of praise had never fallen to his lot. You would 
 never have suspected it. He was lonely." 
 
 The Oldest Journalist lit another cigar and smoked 
 in silence a moment. Then he repeated his last word: 
 " Lonely. You are young and can occasionally catch 
 a friendly eye in the crowd. We both have our pro 
 fession, our work. But sometimes in these warm seas, 
 under these gleaming stars, I pause an instant and 
 know what loneliness is. Maybe it 's bred in our bones, 
 this Anglo-Saxon feeling, in the dumbest of us, for 
 our social life. Anyway, I think I understand Simp- 
 kins. He wanted a place in a community, to be some 
 body to be chairman of the floor committee at the 
 ball of a leper settlement. 
 
 " Don't imagine he said all this. He was an un 
 utterable bore that afternoon. Only I was convinced 
 that Simpkins, in his childish and unreasoning desire 
 to have a place, a social position, a funeral with 
 mourners, an obituary, had picked out, of all places 
 in the world, Kalaupapa on Molokai! 
 
 " You saw old Scrapbook giggle when I said ' Simp- 
 kins of Molokai ' ? That is the attitude. That seeker 
 after a place was incredibly dull and offensive. I be 
 lieve he never did the right thing in his life. He did 
 not even catch the leprosy, but lived blatantly healthy 
 among the dying, waddling around that afflicted city, 
 pursing up his lips importantly over his petty affairs, 
 purposely content. ( Really, my dear fellow, I am one 
 of the principal men of Kalaupapa ! ' 
 
 The foreman looked in to ask whether the cable had
 
 THE OLDEST JOURNALIST 251 
 
 come. The Oldest Journalist resumed his pencil. 
 " How about the obituary notice you showed me ? " I 
 demanded. 
 
 " Simpkins saw it in a paper and cut it out," was 
 the response. " In a moment of confidence yesterday, 
 when he was dying, he showed it to me. He was infelici 
 tous to the last. ' Something like this might be appro 
 priate,' he told me. Thrust it into my hands, you know, 
 with an anxiety worthy of a little politician crazy to 
 have his name in the paper. I suppose he had nursed 
 the hope for twenty years that some day he would have 
 an obituary like that. But imagine the audacity of 
 his insisting that I write it so. Pah ! " 
 
 I mused over this, and the foreman came in again. 
 " Look here," he said angrily. " Is this the best picture 
 you 've got for the front page to-morrow ? Simpkins 
 of Molokai! Why, he was crazy! People will laugh 
 at the paper." 
 
 The Oldest Journalist looked up. " I 've got a column 
 story to go with that," he said severely. " What busi 
 ness is it of yours, anyway ? " 
 
 The foreman shuffled his feet, grumbled something 
 about the insanity of all newspaper men, and departed. 
 As editor in charge, I felt justified in a question. 
 " What are you writing about Simpkins ? " 
 
 He threw the sheets together and tossed them over 
 to me. " Just what Simpkins asked for," he said. 
 " There is a first-class, stereotyped obituary, with every 
 thing in it, from ' the lamented citizen in our com 
 munity ' to ' widely mourned by a large circle of 
 
 \
 
 252 ACROSS THE LATITUDES 
 
 friends.' I have described the theater, the ball-room, 
 and the festivities he fathered, in the best journalese. 
 It is a final example, my son, of the Persistence of 
 the Uninspired." 
 
 " But a column ! And a picture of Napoleon III ! " 
 I protested. 
 
 The Oldest Journalist turned on me with a snarl. 
 " He earned it, did Simpkins of Molokai ! He had no 
 inspirations, I grant you, and he was a bore such as 
 heaven spare us another. But his life was harmonious, 
 and his end came fittingly. By the Lord, if he wanted 
 all through his dull life a word of friendliness said 
 over his grave, it 's not your business." 
 
 " It is my business," I remonstrated. " I 'm here to 
 see that the public get the news and nothing but news. 
 I 'm not here to give a column to the death of a crazy 
 fool who was the laughing-stock of five islands. You 're 
 indeed the victim of his persistency in the uninspired 
 if you try this scheme." 
 
 The snarl melted into a chuckle. " You 're the 
 victim, too," said the Oldest Journalist, putting 
 on his jacket. " Simpkins left all his money to 
 the lepers, and that 's news worth a column any 
 day, with a full-sized picture. I have the will in my 
 pocket." 
 
 So Simpkins of Molokai got the reward of his perse 
 verance on the first page of the " Advertiser," graced 
 by a picture that I am informed looked strangely like 
 him. And the final paragraph of the Oldest Journalist's 
 article ran thus:
 
 With the passing of Mr. Simpkins there passed away the 
 single citizen of the unfortunate colony on Molokai who pur 
 sued the avocations of a friendly life without any reference to 
 the misery and despair about him. Mr. Simpkins did not make 
 many close friends,, but the streets of Kalaupapa will be the 
 sadder for lack of his untroubled countenance, and the pale 
 festivities of the settlement will move less joyously for want 
 of one participant who never by word or act or glance gave 
 any reminder to his fellow citizens of their infirmity or their 
 separation from the world of the active and healthy. With 
 out making protestations of charity, single-hearted in his 
 desire to bear an honorable part in the life of his chosen 
 home, he did more, it is possible, than he will be given 
 credit for.
 
 254 ACROSS THE LATITUDES 
 
 II 
 
 ON KINDILINI 
 
 WE HAD been gossiping idly on the lanai of the big 
 hotel, and our budget of scandal was exhausted. Harper 
 leaned back, waving his hands impatiently at the mov 
 ing crowd that circled and hummed under the lights. 
 " There is something devilish about all this," he mut 
 tered. " Why do we excuse things down here that we 
 would strongly reprobate at home? I am very near 
 to belief in what a shocked Briton said last night about 
 there not being any God in these latitudes." 
 
 " Manners are different," I paltered. 
 
 Harper breathed out a strong " Pah ! Right is right ! 
 Society ought to punish " 
 
 The Oldest Journalist in the South Seas raised his 
 eyes. " It 's not altogether society's business," he said. 
 " You and I can punish only after hearing all the evi 
 dence ; society sometimes has to yield to Fate, or 
 God, if you prefer that title. And I have come to 
 think that God knows best and punishes most severely. 
 And it is more merciful to leave it to Him; for when 
 He punishes He pardons, too. You and I never par 
 don. We miss the kernel of the law." 
 
 " Nonsense," Harper put in brusquely. " You see 
 people going free every day. If society does n't exact 
 her penalties and execute her laws, there is no punish 
 ment at all. I judge " 
 
 " I 'm not so sure that we you have a right to
 
 THE OLDEST JOURNALIST 255 
 
 judge," went on the old man thoughtfully. " Now, 
 I was just thinking about Honoria McLean and 
 Kindilini." 
 
 " Who was she ? " we demanded. 
 
 " She was the woman that Henry Plicott ran away 
 with twenty-five years ago. It was all before your 
 time. But it shows that when a man and a woman have 
 evaded society, they are face to face with with 
 destiny, or God ; or is it themselves ? 
 
 " It was, as I Ve said " (the Oldest Journalist went 
 on), " something more or less than twenty-five years 
 ago. Henry Plicott came from the States to sell ma 
 chinery to the sugar-planters. I recall him as a spare, 
 solemn fellow, with hungry brown eyes. He had the 
 usual vices, I believe; he also cherished, at times when 
 business did not prosper, a whimsical, almost comic 
 taint of philosophy. As I understood it, it was a child 
 ish belief that ' some good woman would be the making 
 of him some day.' That 's probably definite enough. 
 You Ve heard wastrels mouth it before. Plicott was 
 not offensive about it, though. He merely offered it 
 to you, over an intimate cigar, much as a man may 
 admit to a friend that he hopes to make a winning on 
 the next turn of the market. 
 
 " Plicott had been on the islands a year when he met 
 Honoria McLean. She was the wife of Alexander 
 McLean, head of a small commission house. Old resi 
 dents Jcamaainas like myself remember Honoria. 
 She was a big, splendid, red-haired woman thirty years 
 old; full of exuberant vitality that a humid climate
 
 256 ACROSS THE LATITUDES 
 
 and a broiling sun seemed unable to weaken. McLean 
 had married her in Scotland two years before, going 
 back to fetch her after he had made a little fortune 
 here. She was waiting for him. We understood that 
 they had been sweethearts since he was a young fellow 
 and she a kiddie. Alexander was short, wore a neat, 
 dry beard, and took snuff; a stiff man, starched with 
 the rules of virtuous conduct, and ever ready for a 
 bargain or an argument. 
 
 " Plicott and Honoria met at the Palace, as every 
 body did then. If you 'd go up and look in the register 
 of the royal receptions and levees of those days, you 'd 
 find Honoria's genteel script and Plicott's scrawl among 
 the signatures of envoys, attaches, and visiting admirals. 
 But it was a full year after they met that some one 
 said one night, ' Plicott is making love to Honoria.' 
 
 " Of course that opened the eyes of us all. We looked 
 across the lawn, and saw Honoria's fine figure shining 
 like a white statue of marble under the trees, and 
 Plicott standing before her with his hands clasped be 
 hind his back and his big, hungry eyes fixed on her. 
 Later I Ve been swimming at Waikiki, and heard a 
 steady, powerful beat of arms just behind me, and 
 swerved aside to let Plicott and Honoria plunge by, 
 round white arm and lean brown arm reaching out 
 overhand with the regularity of perfect strength and 
 accord as they drove in from the reef. Again, one would 
 see Alexander in a brown study in a parlor, snuff-box 
 in hand, gazing under bent brows at some invisible 
 object, while the constant talk of his wife with Plicott
 
 THE OLDEST JOURNALIST 257 
 
 must have poured into his ears. It just missed being 
 a scandal. 
 
 " Later we observed that Honoria and Henry were n't 
 seen together as formerly, and when they met they 
 seemed to look at each other silently, Plicott with a 
 grave perplexity in his eyes. At such seasons I 've 
 caught a glance of Honoria's that expressed a profound 
 bewilderment, a searching sorrow that was feeling round 
 in her heart for something to feed on; a very subtle 
 glance that avoided us, Plicott most of all, like an in 
 voluntary sob that must find no one's ear. 
 
 " Then there came the day when we heard that the 
 barque Golden Gate would leave Honolulu for Panama, 
 whence one could catch the steamship for New York 
 and Liverpool. What plans we made ! I myself thought 
 of the folks in Maine, and decided to go. Others grew 
 hilarious at hope of reaching home without all the 
 delays of the trip to the Coast and overland from San 
 Francisco. Inside a week every cabin on the Golden 
 Gate was taken, and the list was closed. We frolicked 
 like children, we who had been down here for years 
 without a taste of hominy, a sup of maple syrup, or a 
 buckwheat cake. And those who didn't go snarled at 
 us emigrants, forming a defensive alliance against our 
 forces of good cheer and hope and enthusiasm. 
 
 " It was n't till we were well down Molokai Channel 
 that we found that among us were Alexander and Hono 
 ria McLean and Henry Plicott. Even then it didn't 
 strike us as anything worth comment, for of late the two 
 of them had n't been seen much together, and Honoria
 
 258 ACROSS THE LATITUDES 
 
 had even avoided the usual routs and balls. But inside 
 a week our eyes followed them, for Henry quietly took 
 Honoria as his constant companion, and Alexander, 
 snuff-box in hand, sat by the wheel and stared out upon 
 the ocean with a sullen, hurt look. Honoria was 
 resplendent. 
 
 " We were really a strange company, though I suppose 
 our being thrust together in cramped quarters had much 
 to do with our incongruity. Out of thirty passengers 
 there were, besides Honoria, only three women. Two 
 of these were wives of men on board; the third was a 
 slim, shy girl going to some place in Connecticut to be 
 married. Her name was Susan Hays, and she sat in the 
 shadow of the long-boat at night and warmed her en 
 gagement ring against her breast. I suppose she thought 
 no one observed her. 
 
 " Indeed, I flattered myself that it was I only who 
 had been shrewd enough to read the story of this girl's 
 brooding affection. But one night, sitting on a hatch 
 and watching the moonlight on the upper sails, I heard 
 Honoria's voice, from some shadow, saying unsteadily, 
 ' I threw my betrothal ring into a drawer when I got it. 
 I could n't wear it, Harry.' 
 
 " Plicott (for I recognized his voice) muttered, 
 ' One can get rid of the engagement ring, but the wed 
 ding ring sticks fast, does n't it, Honoria ? ' 
 
 " That was all I heard. But I knew, then, that 
 Alexander McLean had better look to his wife or lose 
 her. The Golden Gate was swimming eastward slowly 
 through warm, breezy seas, under dark skies where the
 
 THE OLDEST JOURNALIST 259 
 
 stars hung in a certain gorgeous detachment and a 
 woman's face in the dusk was more than all the com 
 mandments. A few days later I went forward at sun 
 down, and found Honoria and Henry sitting on the 
 big anchor, quite forgetful of the dinner-gong. When 
 I appeared, she looked up with a defiant glance, and 
 Henry dropped her hand. Later he came to me and 
 said glowering, ' You understand, I suppose, that it is 
 none of your business ? ' Well, of course it was no 
 affair of mine. The elderly chap with the snuff-box had 
 the whole burden on his shoulders. 
 
 " Thereafter I thought Henry dropped some of his 
 reserve. Whenever Honoria came up on deck, with 
 her hair glowing in the light and her firm, white hands 
 shading her eyes, her invariable gesture, Plicott 
 would leave whatever group he was in and walk slowly 
 and steadily to meet her. They would sit down, silently, 
 together. Now and then one would see her brush her 
 warm lips with her fingers and glance abroad with a 
 frightened, tremulous air, like a child in trouble. Henry 
 would glower out of his hungry eyes, and his lean, dark 
 face would redden. Now and again Alexander walked 
 by, his starched face rigid with disapproval. So far as 
 we observed, neither man ever addressed the other. 
 
 " You understand that the course taken by our vessel 
 was lonely beyond expression. It is extremely probable 
 that not one ship in ten years cuts across chat desolate 
 expanse of the South Pacific. It is a sea of baffling 
 winds, of unending blank reaches that weary the eye. 
 Day after day the horizon recedes before you, present-
 
 260 ACROSS THE LATITUDES 
 
 ing a constant, definite line, broken once in a while 
 by the uprising of a distant wave or the column of a 
 cloud. Overhead the winds echo in the profound vault, 
 a measured, faint thunder that is forever exactly above 
 you, invariable and incessant, like the dim din of vast 
 wheels. 
 
 " The Golden Gate gained an atmosphere of intense 
 and eternal solitude, much as if she had become fixed 
 in space, and the earth were rumbling under us like an 
 endless treadmill, midway of which we were traveling, 
 without an inch's advance. I suppose we all of us 
 expected this to last forever. I don't think one of us 
 looked for the barque to arrive at any port. Honestly, 
 as I review it, I am convinced that we did n't dream of 
 ever missing the sight of Honoria, elbows on knees, eyes 
 on the distance, feeling beside her Plicott, whose dark 
 face was forever ruddied by the thought of his love 
 for her. . . . Susan Hays was eternally to slip across 
 before them, holding her gentle left hand in the palm 
 of her right in order that no breath of this fiery 
 passion might sear the tender love that warmed her 
 small betrothal ring. . . . For ages Alexander McLean 
 was to skulk in the shadow, tapping the lid of his box 
 of deadly venom. So when, one night as we sat about 
 the deck, the yards shivered, a shroud snapped high 
 up, giving forth a vibrant, shrill tang, and the Golden 
 Gate stopped dead on her course, we stared at each other 
 like men wakened from a dream. 
 
 " An hour later we knew the extent of our disaster. 
 In that uncharted sea a reef had intercepted us. The
 
 THE OLDEST JOURNALIST 261 
 
 barque had slipped upon it under the gentle impulse 
 of her sails, nosed into it, and swung round broadside 
 to the sharp coral. Our vessel was a total loss, lying 
 almost awash to the long, low rollers that passed over 
 the sunken reef without breaking. 
 
 " The next day was an anxious one. The captain 
 pored over the charts and fingered the ' Handbook and 
 Sailing Directions for the South Pacific/ while the 
 mates cleared away the boats, broke out provisions, and 
 did what they could to prepare for the long trip to land. 
 Toward evening the captain assembled us and said: 
 ' The reef we are wrecked on is not down on the chart. 
 Apparently the nearest land is seven hundred miles 
 away. I have figured out our course, and we shall 
 leave the ship to-night in five boats. If the weather 
 holds fair we shall make land within one week/ 
 
 " We were then assigned to the different boats, and 
 the water and food was carefully measured. During 
 this operation the moon rose. By its light, boat after 
 boat was lowered and its passengers embarked in it. Pli- 
 cott and I were assigned to the second mate's boat, a 
 small one manned by three sailors. With us was a pas 
 senger named Howard, an old man who insisted that 
 Susan Hays go with us, as he knew her people and felt 
 a responsibility for her safety. When we were all on 
 board, and the girl had been handed down to us, we 
 pulled off a few fathoms and lay to, swinging up and 
 down on the sluggish surges. 
 
 " The moon had reached the zenith when we were 
 all embarked. The last boat was riding just below the
 
 262 ACROSS THE LATITUDES 
 
 rail of the quarter-deck. In it were half a dozen pas 
 sengers and Alexander and Honoria McLean. The cap 
 tain's instruments were in the stern-sheets, a seaman 
 held the chronometer on his lap, and the captain him 
 self was staring up at the tangled rigging with an 
 abstracted, mournful look. Then, with a determined 
 and manly gesture of resignation, he stepped briskly 
 over the rail, dropped into his place, and the boat drove 
 away. 
 
 " A cable's length from the wreck, the boats came 
 together for orders. The captain gave his plans. ' I '11 
 keep the lead and show a light at night,' he said. ' The 
 course is east by north. God bless us all! Give way, 
 men! ' 
 
 " His boat swung up to the one Plicott and I were 
 in, and the captain leaned out to speak to the second 
 mate, who commanded it. In that instant Honoria 
 rose slightly in her place, and I heard Plicott draw a 
 long breath. Before one of us could raise a finger, he 
 had bent out, caught Honoria's white hands, and with 
 a vast effort heaved her into our boat. 
 
 " It was so suddenly done that the captain did not 
 catch the purport of our exclamations. When he saw 
 Honoria beside Plicott, he seemed on the pqint of saying 
 something; instead he stared at Alexander, who stared 
 back at him with eyes blazing in his contorted visage. 
 But the moonlight was deceptive, and the captain listened 
 for him to speak. I suppose that that moment, which 
 seemed long to us, was really a second of time. In 
 that instant Plicott had called out, loud and command-
 
 THE OLDEST JOURNALIST 263 
 
 ingly, ' Give way, all ! ' and our sailors instinctively- 
 had driven our boat ahead. I think the captain cried 
 out sharply, though I 'm not sure, for the very next 
 thing (our eyes were fixed on Alexander), McLean stood 
 up, snuff-box in hand, as we could plainly see, and with 
 his other hand drew a small pistol from his pocket, which 
 he fired point-blank. 
 
 " The report had not reached us before the second 
 mate roared out an order to pull harder, and our boat 
 rushed off, out of range of the madman's weapon. It 
 must have been several minutes before we felt safe, and 
 the second mate, whose name was Gridley, gave the 
 order to lie by. We looked back and saw nothing, the 
 moon, now past the zenith, being in our eyes. We heard 
 a hail, quite faint. One of us answered it. Then came 
 silence, and Gridley ordered the sailors to fall to their 
 oars again. ' What did that man mean ? ' he demanded 
 angrily. No one replied, and he bent over his compass. 
 When he had found the course and fixed a star in his 
 mind, we started slowly and painfully out to the east 
 ward. 
 
 " It must have lacked but a couple of hours of dawn 
 when we left the barque, for, as we went along, listening 
 occasionally for the voices of some in the other boats, 
 or peering out to pick up the light that the captain had 
 promised to show, the eastern horizon suddenly grew 
 white. Later there appeared around the declining moon 
 a great circle of darkness; the stars faded. Then a 
 ribbon of fire flamed on the edge of the sea, and in a 
 moment the sun burst up. When it was high enough
 
 264 ACROSS THE LATITUDES 
 
 for us to see under its beams, the other boats were not 
 in sight. We thought to discern the spars of the Golden 
 Gate far astern, but that was all. Gridley was much 
 put out. ' We were set wrong by that mad fellow 
 shooting at us,' he exclaimed. ' And the other boats 
 pulled directly eastward. They are ahead of us. We '11 
 keep the course and maybe overtake them in a few 
 hours.' 
 
 " An appalled voice came from a man forward : { The 
 water-cask has leaked, sir ! ' An examination showed 
 that McLean's bullet had clipped one of the wooden 
 hoops of the cask, cut it in two, and allowed the staves to 
 open up slightly. Of the hundred gallons of fresh water 
 we had started with, we might have a dozen left. We 
 accepted this growlingly, but the mate assured us that 
 we must soon pick up the other boats and from their 
 casks we would replenish our supply. In the meantime 
 a sailor carefully stopped the cracks in the cask with 
 strips of cloth in order to prevent further loss. 
 
 " During that day and the following night we failed 
 to sight the other boats. The sea had swallowed them 
 up. Gridley refused to alter the course to search for 
 them, alleging that it might delay us in reaching the 
 land. ' And an hour may mean life to some of us/ 
 he said grimly. 
 
 " The third day our water was exhausted, except for 
 a few ounces apiece for the ten of us. Our plight, 
 now that we had lost track of our companions, was 
 desperate. Gridley, observing a strong current setting to 
 the southward, assumed that it was the action of this
 
 THE OLDEST JOURNALIST 265 
 
 that had parted us, and he said that we might now do 
 well to follow this current, doubling our speed, in 
 hopes of sighting some land. ' These are uncharted 
 seas/ he told me. l If that reef was there without 
 having been discovered, it is possible we may find an 
 island.' He changed the course. 
 
 " The horizon still presented a faultless rim when 
 our thirst had mounted high. In our growing misery 
 we looked askance at Plicott and Honoria. They, we 
 argued, had caused our disaster. And seeing our anger, 
 Plicott drew her apart and held her beside him, glower 
 ing at us in a truculent and determined manner. We 
 should doubtless have set him to the last test, had not 
 a gull passing overhead dropped from his bill a seed 
 which floated on the water and was caught by Gridley. 
 He examined it and said cheerfully, ' It is a fresh seed. 
 Land is close by.' 
 
 " l But where ? ' we demanded. 
 
 " Gridley smiled upon us gallantly, recovering his 
 courage and ascendancy. ' We '11 soon find it,' he as 
 sured us. ' Everybody keep a good lookout.' 
 
 " That night we found it a small, wavering shadow 
 on the southern horizon. At first we thought it an 
 illusion, a mere blot of cloud. But as we studied it, 
 sniffed the air, and felt of the water, it came over us 
 that it was truly an island. The mate carefully calcu 
 lated the force and direction of the current, diverted 
 our course by a few points, and we gradually drew 
 up to it, dawn breaking while we were three miles away 
 and rapidly approaching it over a windless sea, It was.
 
 266 ACROSS THE LATITUDES 
 
 noon when we ran the boat up on a barren white shore 
 and stumbled out, saying to each other, ' We must find 
 water.' 
 
 " I '11 pass over certain episodes of little moment and 
 bring you to the hour, late that night, when we knew 
 that there was no water on the island. We had searched 
 it, scanned it inch by inch, knew its configuration per 
 fectly, and were gathered in despair at the foot of the 
 only eminence in its small area. 
 
 " The extreme breadth of the islet was a half-mile. 
 In length it extended for about two miles, running 
 almost directly north and south. In the middle of it, 
 dividing it in two, rose a long, steep, sharp ridge of 
 rock, rising precipitously from the white, barren sand 
 for nearly the length of the island. This rock was 
 very much like a wall, or a backbone. On either side 
 of this ridge the sand was verdureless except for a 
 small clump of bushes huddled at the foot of an abrupt 
 cliff on the east face. These formed a thicket possibly 
 a score of feet through, none of the bushes being over a 
 dozen feet high. Above them the rock rose vertically 
 for fifty feet, glaring white. I assure you that we 
 knew what we were talking about when we agreed that 
 there was no water. We had even dug in the coarse, 
 white, sharp coral sand. We had tried to scale the 
 spine of rock, and failed. We had almost pulled the 
 stunted shrubs up in an effort to find whence they 
 sucked their moisture. And now, lighted by the rising 
 moon, we gaped at each other, mumbling our despair 
 through swollen lips. Apart from us sat three people:
 
 THE OLDEST JOURNALIST 267 
 
 Susan Hays, her hands clasped in her lap, and Honoria 
 and Plicott, silently staring at us, driven from us by 
 the consciousness that to them we owed our lamentable 
 death. 
 
 " I don't know what would have been the outcome 
 of our despair if a cloud had not suddenly overspread 
 us and poured down a flood of rain. For an hour we 
 drank out of our palms out of any vessel we could 
 find; we soaked our bodies in the warm water, lifting 
 our faces to it in a sort of ecstasy. Yet, when dawn 
 came we had managed to collect only a few gallons, and 
 a cloudless sky and burning sun mocked us. 
 
 " We worked and built us a camp, with a fireplace, 
 a cellar dug in the sand in the rock's shadow for our 
 provisions, and a little store place for the scanty fuel 
 the sailors gathered. Then Gridley divided us into 
 watches, and we prepared to stay till we could accumu 
 late enough water to fill the cask, which we repaired, 
 and so continue our voyage to the mainland. Our 
 circumstances were not pleasant : we were a thousand 
 miles from land, the climate forbade us to expect many 
 showers, and there was no hope of a passing vessel. 
 Under these conditions, we settled down as best we 
 might, relying on the possibility of soon being ready to 
 take to the boat again. 
 
 " The seamen instantly accommodated themselves, and 
 Gridley relapsed into sullen taciturnity. The old man, 
 Howard, sat first on the west side of the rock of a 
 morning, panted during the flaming noon, and then, 
 when the sun had passed the meridian, crept over into
 
 268 ACROSS THE LATITUDES 
 
 the shadow on the westward side. With him, con 
 stantly silent, shy, thoughtful, went Susan Hays. 
 Plicott and Honoria had withdrawn themselves to 
 the edge of the thicket, where they sat, her hand in 
 his, while he glared out into the great sunshine with 
 stormy eyes. Honoria seemed pensive, with a subdued 
 demeanor. 
 
 " Our water again gave out, in due course. We 
 sought the implacable heavens for a cloud. Gridley 
 tried to make a rude still to distil the sea water into 
 a drinkable liquid; he failed. Once more we searched 
 the islet for a trace of water, digging into the hot 
 sand with our fingers. Plicott came with us, furious 
 in the hunt for two days. Then he desisted, and lay 
 in the shadow of the thicket, gazing seaward, or staring 
 at Honoria, now sunburnt and with blackened lips and 
 bloodshot eyes. 
 
 " The next night thereafter I wakened from an un 
 easy sleep, hearing a rustling sound in the thicket, out 
 side which Howard, Susan Hays, Honoria, Plicott, and 
 myself had laid us down. I was at the foot of the rock, 
 and when I opened my eyes I thought I discovered a 
 figure clambering painfully up the cliff, out of the 
 tops of the bushes. At first I supposed I was dreaming ; 
 but I finally decided that some one was trying desper 
 ately to find water. There was nothing unusual in 
 this, for each of us at some time or another wandered 
 off in that hopeless quest. However, I had not thought 
 it possible to scale the rock. I stole away and into 
 the thicket. There I waited till a slight, scrambling
 
 THE OLDEST JOURNALIST 269 
 
 noise warned me that a man was coming down. I 
 drew aside and listened. Whoever it was dropped softly 
 upon the sand and sank down, breathing heavily. 
 Waiting for the moon to rise and give me light upon 
 him, I fell asleep. When I wakened again it was to 
 hear the whisper of a man's husky voice. It was 
 Plicott, saying, ' Drink it all, Honoria. I Ve found it 
 for you.' 
 
 " Gradually I made out that they were standing a 
 few feet from me, the woman with one hand supporting 
 her against the rock. She was whispering, 1 1 must n't 
 Harry. Give it to the others. It 's wicked ! Give 
 it to the others ! ' 
 
 " ( The others shall have some when you 're done,' 
 he insisted. ' You are first.' 
 
 " ' And there is plenty ? ' she demanded. 
 
 " ' Plenty,' he told her. 
 
 " Presently she sighed, and drank. A moment later 
 Plicott crawled past me, and then Honoria stepped out 
 of the thicket. When I returned to the rest, I saw her 
 seated a little distance off; Plicott was back in his old 
 place. 
 
 " You see what I had discovered : Plicott had found 
 water. While I was debating what to do, the dawn 
 broke. Scanning the blackened, swollen faces about 
 me, I kept silent. Instead of speaking a word of what 
 I knew, I followed Henry down to the boat, and when 
 he turned on me with a look of inquiry, I made no 
 bones of my intentions. * You 've found water,' I said. 
 'Where is it?'
 
 270 ACROSS THE LATITUDES 
 
 " He snarled at me like an animal. ' You '11 never 
 know/ he muttered. 
 
 " ' I will/ I said loudly. ' I suppose you think that 
 you and the woman you have stolen can have it all. 
 But it is on account of you and your guilt that we 
 decent people are dying. Do you suppose we will en 
 dure it ? ' 
 
 " I can't describe the look that altered his face. He 
 stood there, staring at me with a hurt, puzzled expression, 
 a man suddenly confronted with an inexplicable prob 
 lem. ' But you don't love her ! ' he managed to say. 
 
 " ' Of course I don't/ I retorted. ' Why should I ? 
 But I 'm going to have some of that water.' 
 
 " You can give what explanation you like of his next 
 move. He took me by the arm and strode back to the 
 thicket, pulling me into its shade after him. On the 
 ground lay Honoria, asleep. He motioned to me to pass 
 her, and as I crept up beside him he laid his finger on 
 a small grove in the face of the rock. 
 
 "'Look!' he said. 
 
 " The depression, a very shallow one, extended ver 
 tically up. It was still damp. It was the channel 
 of a stream. 
 
 " ' I found it/ he told me savagely. ' It 's mine. 
 Somewhere up the face of the cliff there is the outlet 
 of a spring. When the sun shines and heats the rock, 
 all the water that issues evaporates before it comes 
 down within reach. But at night, after the face of 
 the rock has cooled, it commences to trickle down into 
 a little basin twenty feet up there. When that basin
 
 THE OLDEST JOURNALIST 271 
 
 is filled a few drops trickle down to the ground, but 
 then the sun rises and heats the rock and instantly 
 evaporates it, so that a few minutes after sunrise there 
 is only this slight dampness to mark its course. It 'a 
 mine ! ' 
 
 " ' But if one should climb up to the spring to 
 that basin,' I said eagerly, l then we could get water 
 all day long, for all of us/ 
 
 " He laughed feverishly. ' I 've measured it. Work 
 ing for hours last night, I got how much ? A cupful ! 
 All told, less than a pint ! Enough for only one ! ' 
 
 " l And that 's you ! ' I stormed. 
 
 " ' No,' he replied dully. ' Honoria.' 
 
 " I went away, quite undecided. I was of a mind 
 to tell the rest. But what good would that do? The 
 scanty pint a day a cupful would not moisten the 
 lips of all of us. And, besides, I had a profound fear 
 of Plicott. He was capable of murder; he would kill 
 us all, if it came to the question. I did not doubt his 
 ability. While we had silently made these two, the 
 guilty man and the guilty woman, apart from us, sep 
 arated by an invisible strong line,, they dominated us. 
 Keeping to themselves, forced aloof by some unspoken 
 reprobation of ours, they, however, seemed to have the 
 balance of power with them. Yet I cannot tell what 
 I would have done had not an opportune shower drenched 
 us and given us half a cask of water again. This re 
 prieve strengthened us. But at the end of twenty-four 
 hours we wakened to find that the three sailors had 
 stolen the cask and our boat and vanished, leaving
 
 Howard and the mate, Plicott, Honoria, Susan, and 
 myself with but very little victual and no water. 
 
 " Day after day passed. Our little rations of food 
 would not go down our throats for dryness. We lay 
 in the shadow of the rock, after soaking our bodies in 
 the surf, and muttered insane blasphemy at the pitiless 
 and shining sky. When I say ' we ' and ' our ' I refer 
 to those of us who had thrust Plicott and Honoria into a 
 separate society. I did not disclose their secret yet. 
 We were all weakened and nerveless; Plicott and the 
 woman were strong, unwithered by the heat and the 
 drought. But I saw to it that they got nothing of our 
 scanty food. I recall smiling across at Plicott and 
 daring him to demand his rations. And he smiled back, 
 magnificently. 
 
 " Gridley grew violent within two days after the 
 desertion of the seamen, went off by himself, and main 
 tained a steady and vigilant watch over us, like a vul 
 ture. Howard, old and dried up anyway, did not 
 seem to need water as much as the rest of us. He 
 sat against the rock, as he had always done, changing 
 from shadow to shadow as the sun swept overhead ; and 
 Susan Hays leaned on his knee and dreamed, her hands 
 clasped over her bosom. Apart, Honoria sat like a 
 splendid goddess at the entrance of her sacred thicket; 
 sunk in dark meditation, Plicott sat beyond her, sullen 
 and silent, now staring at the woman, now gazing upon 
 the ground. 
 
 " I think about two days more had passed when I 
 was wakened in deep night to hear a harsh voice saying,
 
 THE OLDEST JOURNALIST 273 
 
 ' Get back ! Get back ! ' I got up and ran round the 
 edge of the rock toward the thicket, and saw Gridley 
 on one knee, fighting off Plicott. 
 
 " As I came up the second mate called out through 
 the dark, ' They 've got water ! Kill them both ! ' He 
 rolled over under a blow, his voice dying in his throat. 
 
 " The tumult brought Howard, and he and I stormed 
 at Plicott, who confronted us under the bright stars, 
 pistol in hand. I admit it was not a pretty scene. But 
 Plicott's pistol subdued us, and we went muttering 
 away. As we stumbled back, looking over our shoulders 
 and cursing, the old man pitched forward. Gridley, 
 stooping over him, stared into his set face and rose, 
 croaking, ' He 's dead.' So he was. 
 
 " This brought matters to a pass. The girl, Susan 
 Hays, came and sat through the morning by the side of 
 her only protector and friend, dry-eyed, serene, her 
 cracked lips parted in a gentle smile. Far off, Gridley 
 huddled in the wet sand at the water's edge, while 
 Plicott stood on the other side, pistol in hand. After 
 hours of hesitation, I got up and drew my knife, intend 
 ing to go and kill Plicott. 
 
 " But at this moment Honoria came, walking easily 
 and slowly, calling out, ' Susan ! Susan ! ' 
 
 " Plicott made a sudden attempt to stop her. But 
 she merely smiled at him and came on, splendid and 
 beautiful, white arms swinging at her sides, her cheeks 
 fresh and dewy. She saw the girl crouched over the 
 old man's body, and halted. Then she ran up to her, 
 crying, ' Susan ! Susan ! What 's the matter ? '
 
 274 ACROSS THE LATITUDES 
 
 " The girl lifted her quiet, dull eyes and said simply, 
 ' He 's dead.' 
 
 " Honoria swept down beside her, drawing her into 
 her arms. ' How did he die ? ' she cried. ( What 's the 
 matter ? ' 
 
 " I broke in : ' Can you ask ? How dare you ask ! 
 Can't you see we are all dying for lack of the water 
 you are using ? ' 
 
 " She stared at us ; then, suddenly stooping over, 
 she brushed her white finger-tips across the old man's 
 parted lips. His open eyes and protruding tongue would 
 have told any one the story. And Honoria got up 
 slowly, drearily, and walked away. Plicott met her 
 and tried to say something. She shook her head. ' Why 
 did you deceive me ? I did n't know,' I heard her 
 say. ' Why did n't you tell me that they had no 
 water ? ' She stared at him a long moment, and then 
 said, ' We are guilty, Harry. We can never get away 
 from it.' 
 
 " She went into the covert of the thicket and came 
 out with a cup in her hand. This she carried to Susan 
 and held to her lips, with little murmurs of comfort. 
 The girl, suddenly waking, so to speak, gulped the 
 water down, looking wildly over the scene, and fell to 
 sobbing bitterly. Honoria put her arms about her. 
 
 " ' I '11 never see Tom/ I heard Susan whisper. 
 ' He 's waiting for me in Connecticut/ 
 
 " ' Yes, you '11 see him yet,' Honoria returned, while 
 Plicott and I stood by dumbly. 
 
 " l No, and I Ve waited for him all my life till
 
 THE OLDEST JOURNALIST 275 
 
 he made money enough. And now I won't see him 
 ever ! Oh, Mrs. McLean, you 've been married and 
 had your life and the man you love ! You 've had your 
 husband ! And I '11 never have Tom ! ' 
 
 " Imagine that slender, plangent voice talking to the 
 brassy sky, through pale lips, over a dead body. It 
 shook me. I seemed to see before me all the misery of 
 the world suddenly drawn down into the heart of a 
 young girl. To Honoria it carried a different message ; 
 she rose, with infinite gentleness, and caught Plicott's 
 eye. 
 
 " ' I understand why you did this, Harry,' she said 
 to him, shading her eyes with her hands. ' You did n't 
 tell me the rest were dying for a drink of water. But 
 you and I have come to the end of things, Harry. I 
 ought never to have loved you. I 'm a wicked woman. 
 But now that it is all done, and you and I have nothing 
 else, we '11 keep our love. We '11 deserve it, Harry. 
 We '11 earn the right to carry it to God and tell him 
 it was n't all false, it was n't all unworthy and mean and 
 dishonorable. . . . Bring her in and put her in the 
 shade/ 
 
 " Plicott stooped over dizzily, took Susan in his arms, 
 and carried her into the thicket. Honoria went in then, 
 and we stood outside, panting and thirsty and desper 
 ate. When Honoria came out she walked to Plicott 
 and put her fingers in his. ' Now we '11 die together/ 
 she said calmly, and sat down. 
 
 " That night we buried the old man, and Gridley 
 drew me aside to say, ' I know that Plicott and that
 
 276 ACROSS THE LATITUDES 
 
 woman stole our cask of water. Look at their wet 
 lips ! Let 's kill them ! ' He made this proposal with 
 earnestness; and when he had made it he lay down, 
 struggled a little with phantoms, and later died in a 
 burning pain. 
 
 " Without any help I dragged his body into the 
 shadow of the rock, and went and told Honoria and 
 Henry. She looked at me quietly. ' I 'm guilty of his 
 death, too,' she said. ' But I did n't know. You 
 would n't stay with us ; you looked at us as if we were 
 too wicked, and we stayed by ourselves. I did n't know 
 you were not having water to drink. Harry showed 
 me how to get the water at night, and there was only 
 enough for the two of us. Why should n't we have it ? ' 
 
 " l But Plicott owed it to the rest of us,' I said bru 
 tally. ( He had no business to snatch you into our 
 boat and get your husband to shoot at us and spoil our 
 cask of water.' 
 
 " ' That is so/ she replied. ' But I am glad Harry 
 loved me that much. Now we '11 let Susan have the 
 water, so that she can meet that fellow in Connecticut.' 
 She crept into Plicott's arms, and we sat together 
 through the night. At dawn, gently disengaging him 
 self, Plicott drew me aside to say through cracked lips, 
 ' I did n't drink any of the water. She thought there 
 was plenty.' 
 
 " ' But what became of it ? ' I demanded. 
 
 " l There was only a cupful/ he answered, walking 
 on beyond the thicket. 
 
 " But something caught my eye. Pinned against
 
 THE OLDEST JOURNALIST 277 
 
 the hot face of the rock, I saw a pair of long stockings 
 spread out to dry. 
 
 " To my exclamation he croaked : l She washed them. 
 She thought there was plenty of water. You could n't 
 expect her not to ... a delicate woman. . . . The sea 
 water, she said, made them sticky . . . she wanted to 
 be beautiful for my sake. . . . She said she would 
 have made me a tidy wife . . . men like tidiness . . . 
 she washed them. I lied to her . . . she went thirsty 
 herself, so 's she could have her stockings clean . . . 
 she . . . Honoria ! ' He suddenly fell forward, 
 clutched his fingers into the sand, and sighed, blowing 
 the coral dust out of his parched nostrils in a final 
 puff. And, as he relaxed, a gentle draught of air 
 picked one of the lace stockings from the rock and let 
 it fall across his lifeless hand. 
 
 " It was a week later, or two or three weeks later 
 (time passed by us with tremendous irregularity), that 
 I dreamed that it rained. I started to my feet, and in 
 my wild eagerness stumbled over something and fell, 
 being at the end of my powers. There I lay, sucking 
 at the very air for moisture till I slept again. I was 
 roused at daylight to see Susan standing over me, sob 
 bing. l She 's dead ! she 's dead ! ' she cried again and 
 again. 
 
 " I remember that I looked up into the blue sky 
 and felt my dry clothes about me. When I cleared my 
 eyes, I saw, a few yards off, Honoria, lying on her 
 back, her glowing hair shrouding her white face, her 
 parched lips and shrunken throat. Beyond her I saw
 
 278 ACROSS THE LATITUDES 
 
 the white surf. Yet beyond that gleamed the sail of 
 a vessel. 
 
 " I forgot everything, and ran down to the shore 
 and shouted in a thin voice, while Susan stood before 
 me, her hands clasped over her bosom in an agony of 
 suspense. It was n't till I was sure the schooner was 
 heading up for the island that I turned round, and 
 realized that Honoria was quite dead in the barren sand 
 that covered the lean, burnt body of the man who had 
 loved her lawlessly."
 
 STRANGE PORTS 
 
 WE sat on the wheel-box of the Mary E. Timms, smok 
 ing our pipes in the glitter of California sunshine. 
 The schooner lay before us empty and deserted. Up 
 the gaping main hatch came soft sounds of water 
 gurgling along the planks of the hull. My companion 
 took his pipe out of his mouth, cuddled it in his huge 
 fist and shook his head at a straw-haired man who 
 peered down at us from the wharf. " Don't know 
 where she 's bound for ! " he rumbled. The man 
 nodded and retired, sinking behind the edge of the 
 wharf till only a round hat bobbed within view. When 
 this, after several erratic movements along our wooden 
 horizon, disappeared too, the mate resumed his pipe. 
 " Sailors always want to know where you 're going,"" 
 he remarked. 
 
 " That 's natural," I suggested. 
 
 " It is," was the reply. " But I remember when 
 young fellows were n't so curious about where the 
 vessel was cleared for. But sailing was sport those 
 days. Now it 's business. There are n't many strange 
 ports left, so to speak." 
 
 The phrase caught my ear. " Strange ports ? You 
 talk like a sailor out of one of Magellan's ships. Who 
 ever thinks of setting sail for strange ports nowadays ? "
 
 280 ACROSS THE LATITUDES 
 
 " Oh, well," the mate answered with some signs of 
 
 embarrassment, " that 's just a manner of speaking. 
 
 Only I was thinking of Silas Everett and the voyage 
 
 of the El Dorado." 
 
 11 Did you go to strange ports ? " I demanded 
 
 The mate sought the mizzen truck with dreamy eyes. 
 
 " We sailed for 'em," he answered me slowly. " You 
 
 see " 
 
 Captain Silas Everett quit the Pacific Mail line, 
 and a first-class ship, one day about ten years ago. 
 Nobody could exactly make out why he left the San 
 Juan, for Everett was a steady, skillful, quiet skipper, 
 not more than middle-aged, and he would sooner or later 
 have been given one of the crack express steamers. 
 But one day I was third mate with him he went 
 to the superintendent and resigned. Then he came 
 back to the San Juan, emptied his lockers, told the 
 steward to hang a fresh towel over the mirror and came 
 up on the bridge where I was fixing the compass. 
 " Just hand me out those glasses of mine, Grindley," 
 he said. " I >ve left the ship." 
 
 I got him his binoculars and that was all there was 
 to it. Naturally, I was surprised; but Thompson took 
 the steamer and I did n't think much more about it till 
 next trip into San Francisco, when Everett hunted me 
 up. " Would you like to go mate with me in the El 
 Dorado ? " says he. 
 
 " El Dorado? " says I. " I don't know her." 
 
 " She 's a brig," he told me.
 
 STRANGE PORTS 281 
 
 " Where bound ? " I asked him. 
 
 Everett just looked at me with his steady eyes and 
 said, " Are you game for a voyage anywhere ? " Funny, 
 was n't it ? But I climbed right down, so to speak, 
 and said, " Anything for a change. I 'm sick of the 
 smell of steam and the same old road year in and 
 year out." 
 
 " I thought so," he said. " I stuck to that route 
 for twenty-three years. Come over to Meiggs' Wharf 
 and have a look at the El Dorado." 
 
 So I went and drew my pay and turned in the 
 buttons and badges on my uniform and we walked 
 down to Meiggs' Wharf and I had a look at my new 
 ship. 
 
 She was n't very big, and was old-fashioned as a 
 whaler. She was about five hundred tons burden, 
 heavily built, with good lines, and a half deck. She 
 was oversparred, and the canvas was all new, I could 
 see. Brasswork shining, decks like cream and new 
 dowells looking up like bright dollars out of the low 
 quarter-deck. " There does n't seem to be much for 
 a mate to do," I remarked, and Everett nodded. " I 've 
 tended her myself," he told me. " She 's all ready 
 for sea. I 've got half a crew, and I reckon we can 
 pick up the rest in a day or so." 
 
 That night I threw my blankets into my bunk on 
 the El Dorado, cut up some tobacco into the soap dish! 
 and felt at home for the first time in six years. It 's 
 pretty fine to step out on deck of a nice evening and 
 smell no steam and see no passengers and not feel that
 
 282 ACROSS THE LATITUDES 
 
 from six to sixteen ventilators are swung the wrong 
 way. I turned in and slept like a full bottle with 
 out a gurgle. Next morning I turned what hands were 
 aboard out at dawn and scrubbed the decks. Then I 
 drank my coffee and wondered where Everett was. I 
 had n't heard him come aboard the night before. He 
 hove in sight just as I set my coffee cup down, and 
 he had two more hands in tow. He shoved them up 
 the plank, gave them a twist toward the foVsle and 
 came up to me, rubbing his fingers together. " Three 
 more men will fill us up," he remarked. 
 
 Now I had taken a good, fair look at the hands al 
 ready signed on, and I had a glance at the two he had 
 just brought. I spoke my mind. " Of all the rough, 
 rum, piratical, filibustering, throat-cutting, knife-eat 
 ing, nail-chewing, impolite sons of Neptune that I ever 
 laid eyes on you 've got the pick, cream and eelight," 
 I said. " The very largest sized cuss-word would n't 
 half go round with 'em." 
 
 Everett smiled, apparently much pleased with him 
 self. " Can you handle them ? " he inquired very 
 civilly. 
 
 " I 've been third officer and kindergartner on a mail 
 boat for six years," I said. " My hands are soft. But 
 I once sailed with a Nova Scotia crew out of Pictou 
 and I had callouses on my shoes. I understand I am 
 mate of this brig." 
 
 No more was said or was needful to say, though the 
 last three seamen that Everett signed on struck me as 
 being fellows that no skipper in his wits would have
 
 STRANGE PORTS 283 
 
 more than one of in a crew tall, hairy, scowling, 
 sullen chaps, the biggest of whom Everett made 
 bos'n on the spot. I merely pondered to myself 
 the probability that the El Dorado was going as 
 a pirate or on a sealing voyage in the Jap islands. 
 But it was none of my business and I kept my mouth 
 shut. 
 
 We sailed the next day without any fuss, and 
 twenty-one days later I came up during my watch 
 below and tackled Everett to know where we were 
 bound for. " We 've toddled out into the Pacific a 
 thousand miles and dropped down toward the Equator 
 another thousand, and now, as I understand it, we 
 are rocking along into the places where the maps are 
 plain blue without any specks on them. I 've spent 
 my days licking the crew and my nights trying to get 
 up strength enough to lick them again the next day. 
 You have twelve hands on this brig, and each of the 
 twelve would occupy the entire time and attention of 
 three policemen. Look at your second mate over there; 
 he has n't knuckles left to wipe his eyes with. How 
 many days more ? " 
 
 Everett took all this in and then invited me into 
 the cabin, where he called the boy and ordered him to 
 bring glasses. He reached out a large bottle himself 
 and presently we were discussing it without too much 
 ceremony, while the shadow of the spanker swept back 
 and forth across the open skylight. " I might as well 
 explain some things to you," the skipper told me, brush 
 ing his hair down on both sides of his head. " But
 
 284 ACROSS THE LATITUDES 
 
 possibly even then you won't understand. You will 
 see that. I am trying to make up for my lack of ad 
 vantages in my youth." Everett stared at me anxiously. 
 
 " I 'm listening, sir," I said encouragingly. 
 
 " I suppose you ran away to sea ? " he inquired. 
 
 " I did," I said. " I perspire when I think of it." 
 
 He nodded his head vigorously. " Now there you 
 have it real adventure, Mr. Grindley. As a boy you 
 ran away to sea." He smacked his lips. " Now I had 
 no such luck. My father apprenticed me when I was 
 fourteen years old, and I spent five years in the same 
 ship trading across the Atlantic. Then I was offered, 
 through my father's interest, a berth in the Pacific 
 Mail, and I stayed on the Panama run for twenty-three 
 years, one month and eight days. When I quit the 
 San Juan I had had no more experience on the sea 
 than one of the steward's boys, not so much. I re 
 solved that when I had the money I would do what I 
 longed to do when I was a lad and " Here he 
 looked at me in a scared way and brushed his hair 
 down again. 
 
 " And what, sir ? " I helped him along. 
 
 " And run away to sea," he finished hastily. 
 
 Well, I stared at him for an hour or so and he stared 
 back, a prim, clean-faced, neat whiskered captain with 
 a gold watch chain strung across his stomach. Odd, 
 was n't it ? So I stared, and all the foolish thoughts 
 that I ever thought came up over the horizon of my 
 mind and settled in the sky like peculiar, impudent 
 stars. Were you ever eleven hundred and sixty-five
 
 STRANGE PORTS 285 
 
 miles from land with a lunatic? And yet Captain 
 Silas Everett was n't a lunatic. You could see that 
 he had been thinking of this thing for years and years, 
 while he was taking his sights from the San Juan and 
 telling the chief officer to be sure and not load coffee 
 and sheep-dip in the same hold. He was sane, all 
 right. But it occurred to me that one of us was crazy 
 and it was evident that I was it. So after a long 
 while I managed to say, " And you 're running away 
 to sea now ? " 
 
 "Exactly, Mr. Grindley." 
 
 "But where are you going? "*I demanded. 
 
 He came back at me with another question. " Did 
 you know where you were bound for when you ran 
 away to sea ? " 
 
 " I did not, and I was an " 
 
 " Of course you did n't," he announced, cheering 
 up. " Neither do I. Lord, Grindley, have n't I earned 
 this ? I slaved on a steamer for twenty-three years. 
 Now I 'm going to have what all you chaps had and 
 I never did. I 'm going to have a little adventure. 
 Just fancy " he combed his hair up this time 
 " just fancy : here we are with a tight little brig, free 
 as air and with the whole world before us. Why, man, 
 it 's the real thing." 
 
 A thought struck me and I kept quiet and let him 
 talk, which he did very sensibly except for his notion 
 about running away to sea, which was all rot and I 
 wished I had never done it. But that night when I 
 saw the chance I sneaked out the ship's papers and
 
 286 ACROSS THE LATITUDES 
 
 looked up her clearance. I '11 bet no other vessel ever 
 cleared from San Francisco like the El Dorado did. 
 But there it was all written out " for Strange Ports." 
 Then I went topside and stared at the chart a while. 
 The El Dorado was blowing down into the blank South 
 Pacific. 
 
 There was one thing, however, that I was entitled 
 to know and I went right to the skipper about it. 
 " It 's all right about where we 're bound for," I told 
 him. " If you 're yachting it suits me. Kindly en 
 lighten me as to the reason you had for raking the 
 cinders of hell for yoifr crew." 
 
 He gave me no satisfaction, though I found out 
 afterward, and I '11 tell you about that when I get to 
 it. In the meantime please consider me conducting a 
 free fight through several thousand miles of latitude 
 and longitude, up one side of the world and down the 
 other, cross all the tropics, through every oceanic cur 
 rent and thwartships of the mundane sphere for eight 
 months. Have you looked in your geography lately? 
 Well, the surface of the earth is said to be two-thirds 
 water. That is a lie. It is nine-tenths water. We 
 didn't sight even an island from the time we left the 
 Golden Gate till nine months later, when Everett looked 
 up at me from the chart and said quietly, " I wish 
 you 'd correct this course here. I make it sixteen hun 
 dred and eight miles." 
 
 I jumped. " To where ? " I asked. 
 
 " To Hue/' he said. 
 
 " Hue ? That 's a new one to me," I remarked,
 
 STRANGE PORTS 287 
 
 planting my fists on the chart. " But land is land and 
 a port is a port the world over." 
 
 When my eye lit on Hue I felt funny. Look for 
 it on any chart of Indian waters. It is in Cochin 
 China, not so far from Saigon. The El Dorado was 
 swinging along in the southern equatorial current, and 
 ahead of her lay a mess of islands. Well, time enough 
 to tell about it when we get there. 
 
 Did you ever sail in those waters ? Don't. Just a 
 week later than the day that Everett handed me his fig 
 ures, our little brig was plunging bows under in broken 
 water. I swear that all the water in the world piles 
 up on the shoals and into the channels off that coast. 
 It swirls up from the bottom, rides down in smoking 
 rollers, whirls in vast pools that suck and suck and 
 suck at the fringes of smelly islands. Lord, what a 
 seaman Everett was ! Day after day we rocked along 
 among these currents and tides. Now and then I could 
 see the exact place where the great stream of water 
 forked and divided. Moon and stars and sun together 
 pulled and hauled and drew and drove that hot, scented 
 sea amid the flocking islands. One hour we were 
 racing on the crest of a tidal wave ; the following hour 
 we were close hauled and beating up into the thrust 
 of a torrent of water pouring round some headland. 
 Not a watch passed but what the men threw themselves 
 down where they stood and panted and slept till eight 
 bells struck again. Everett and I did n't sleep at all, 
 conning that little, stanch brig through the welter of 
 rocks and water and shoals and whirlpools and long
 
 288 ACROSS THE LATITUDES 
 
 reaches, where the waves ran ruddy tipped into the 
 flaming sun. 
 
 Once in a while we would sight a steamer coasting 
 carefully into some hidden bay, or a native craft boil 
 ing along in a tide-rip. But we won through, and the 
 monsoon silenced the sails and we drove across the 
 China Sea toward Hue. 
 
 Everett was jubilant, like a boy out of school. He 
 would smile like a father on the sullen, sweating, curs 
 ing crew, and then his face would light up, and he 
 would draw in a long breath of the spicy air as much 
 as to say, " I '11 have another of the same, please." 
 
 Right here occurred a small incident. It was a 
 first-class mutiny. Sun, warm water, hard work and 
 nine months at sea took the frazzled loose ends of our 
 piratical crew and twisted them into a knot that was 
 like to have finished us all. We all knew it was com 
 ing as soon as we fetched smooth seas and open going. 
 It broke at midnight when the bos'n did n't relieve the 
 wheel. The man steering quietly left his post and the 
 brig came banging up into the fresh wind. 
 
 I was just turning things over to the second mate 
 when this happened, and the skipper was standing in 
 the stairway to the cabin in his pajamas. Of course 
 one of them jumped for the wheel, while I ran for 
 ward. I got exactly as far as the corner of the deck 
 house when a long hairy arm shot across my shoulder 
 and a knife tickled my windpipe. But Everett was 
 too smart. Something burned my cheek, and the man 
 who held the knife seemed to lose his balance and went
 
 STRANGE PORTS 289 
 
 down, grabbing at my legs. I ran back, the report of 
 a revolver in my ears. 
 
 It was a night of velvet set with spangled stars that 
 shone with a sort of splendid blue flame. The wind 
 was fresh and the sea smooth. You could see a man's 
 bulk plainly, but you could n't see his face or his hands. 
 That made it bad. But Everett simply walked for 
 ward, with his revolver in his hand, and the second 
 mate and myself back of him. I shall never forget 
 that walk down the jumping deck of the old El Dorado. 
 It seemed hours that we were stepping through the 
 clinging darkness under the thundering sails, and all 
 that time Everett was whistling gently to himself. The 
 second mate's head was rocking regularly on his shoul 
 ders as he peered first over one of the skipper's raised 
 arms and then over the other. 
 
 Our slow advance must have scattered the wits of 
 the men, who likely expected to end it all in a rush. 
 At any rate they did n't break in a body, but slithered 
 here and there like men dodging bricks. But the bos'ri 
 and he was a man indeed saw that this would n't 
 do, and slipped out and drove his big knife full at the 
 old man's throat. Everett let out a loud, surprised 
 whistle and his gun went off. The bos'n's knife clat 
 tered against the bulwark and he himself clapped down 
 on the deck like a board. The old man fired again, 
 stared at the threshing yards and let out a yell, " Man 
 the braces ! " 
 
 Yes, sir, they turned to like little children with their 
 thumbs in their mouths, leaving their dead on the deck
 
 where the hauling queues of men trampled them to the 
 tune of Sant' Anna. And when the dawn burnt up 
 the darkness the crew was done for. Everett looked 
 'em all over carefully and then told the sailmaker to 
 sew the corpses up in canvas. Then he drank his 
 coffee and smiled. 
 
 That afternoon we buried them, the two dead men, 
 with prayer book and all. When the brig was on her 
 course again Everett went down into his cabin and 
 called me. " I hope I did what was right, Mr. Grind- 
 ley," said he. " In a way I am responsible for this 
 outbreak." 
 
 " I told you these hands would make trouble," I 
 said. 
 
 " That 's one reason I signed on such men," he re 
 marked quietly. " In all my time at sea I never had 
 any such trouble, and I wondered whether whether 
 I could handle such a crowd. It was an experiment 
 of mine. Remember Ferguson ? He quelled five mu 
 tinies, they say. Good man, Ferguson. I merely won 
 dered if I was up to it, that 's all. Well, poor fellows! 
 All my fault, too." 
 
 Sounds crazy, does n't it ? Getting a crew of cut 
 throats just to see if one can manage 'em? But I 
 want you to understand that I did n't see anything 
 crazy about it at the time. I had got used to Silas 
 Everett and his ways. He was going on a picnic he 'd 
 missed when he was a kid, and it was n't my place 
 to cut the rope to his swing or eat his banana or hide 
 his clothes when he was in swimming.
 
 STRANGE PORTS 291 
 
 Next day we sighted a lump of land that struck 
 me as being first-class in every particular, quite dif 
 ferent from the bits of islands we had seen so far. 
 " That 's China," says Everett solemnly. " I 've never 
 seen China before." He sat down by the wheel and 
 enjoyed it. Later he remarked that we would lie in 
 Hue a long time. " I 'm going to see some of this 
 China," he said. 
 
 " You 'd have done it easier by taking the Peking 
 to Hongkong," I suggested. 
 
 He shook his head. " I 've done with liners, Grind- 
 ley," he said familiarly, as it was n't my watch. " I 
 missed all this when I was a boy. Think of landing 
 in a small boat in a town you never saw before or 
 heard of till you saw it on the chart." 
 
 " It 's a strange port, all right," I said, not thinking 
 till I caught Everett's blush that I had given myself 
 away. 
 
 " That was the way Columbus cleared his ships," he 
 told me solemnly. 
 
 " Well, you 're the Columbus of Hue, anyway," I 
 said. " I wonder how long it 's going to take us to 
 make it ? Tow in ? " 
 
 " There is n't a tugboat there ! " he said trium 
 phantly. " We 're going to see China right, my son." 
 
 That sea is worth looking at. The next day I 
 watched the water foaming under the bows, the sky 
 like thick blue glass overhead, and smelt the sharp, 
 moist air and enjoyed it. Native junks tooled along 
 like pictures on a revolving ribbon. Odd canoes slunk
 
 292 ACROSS THE LATITUDES 
 
 out of little bays, and an ancient tub of a paddle- 
 wheel steamer went in and out of openings in the 
 coast like a big bumblebee poking its bill into flowers. 
 We stood on up the sea under plain sail. 
 
 I was called at four o'clock the next morning to 
 relieve the second mate, and when I came on deck I 
 found that we were out of sight of land again. The 
 skipper pointed to the chart. I saw the wind had 
 hauled and we were a good forty miles off the coast, 
 which here entered into a big bight. Pitch dark it 
 was, and a strong current setting against us. I took 
 the deck. 
 
 Just before dawn I thought I saw a vessel's lights 
 to windward the wind set off shore but I could 
 make nothing out till the first light came. Then I saw 
 it was a big junk, painted a gaudy red and black like 
 a chimney sweep's cart. It was moseying along under 
 a hugeous big sail, and the steersman was perched far 
 out, hanging to the end of his rudder sweep. That 
 was all, except that the junk was being edged over 
 toward the El Dorado by the swift current. Everett 
 came on deck and watched it a while. Then he got 
 his glasses. The strange craft was apparently forging 
 ahead of us. 
 
 Half an hour later it was n't a cable's length away 
 and Everett was staring at it with puckered brows. 
 " I don't like the looks of that affair," he told me, over 
 his shoulder. The words were hardly out of his mouth 
 when he jumped for the wheel, calling the watch to 
 the braces. I saw a score of bare-chested men climb-
 
 STRANGE PORTS 293 
 
 ing up the bulwarks of the junk with knives in their 
 teeth and the steersman was jamming his helm over 
 so as to thrust the junk in towards our brig. I let 
 out a roar, and all hands piled up out of the fo'c's'le. 
 The old man lifted his upper lip over his teeth and 
 said in a loud, clear voice, " They 're pirates. Give 
 the hands knives." 
 
 The second mate caught the last words as he dived 
 up the steps, tumbled back, and ten seconds later was 
 spilling a heavy rack of big knives out on the deck. 
 The seamen grabbed at them, I took the wheel, and the 
 second mate jumped forward to keep the Chinks from 
 cutting away our headgear. The junk swung up against 
 the brig with a bump and Everett ran down among 
 the men, revolver in one hand and knife in the other. 
 
 For twenty minutes I sailed the brig, single-handed, 
 while that hellion crew of ours, with the old man and 
 the second mate in the thick of them, slashed, bit and 
 mauled those Chinks as they piled up and on our decks. 
 Thank God for those nail-chewers I 'd licked across ten 
 thousand miles of open water ! I prayed for the resur 
 rection of the bos'n and his fellow corpse. I kept the 
 brig full, steered her like a small boat and watched. 
 
 You understand that the first thing these pirates 
 tried to do was to cut away our gear. They knew that 
 if they could render the brig helpless they had all day 
 to finish the job in. With an ordinary white-headed 
 crew we would have been goners in ten minutes. But 
 our men were boiling for a scrap, tough as knots, filled 
 with ginger, gall and grit. I saw whole rows of claw-
 
 294 ACROSS THE LATITUDES 
 
 like hands clutch our rails as the Chinks piled up tooth 
 and nail. From where I was I could catch a glimpse 
 of the crowds on the deck of the junk waiting their 
 chance, and the boss of them, in a bright yellow shirt, 
 yelling and shrieking at them from the after-deck. 
 Then I 'd see knives flash out and the hands drop off, 
 one by one, and I 'd hear great, agonized cries of pain. 
 But they had managed to get a chain hooked over the 
 port channels and it held, with the weight of the junk 
 pulling on it. And the more hands were cut and 
 mashed the more men seemed to swarm up the poor 
 brig's sides. 
 
 I could see that we were fighting with the odds against 
 us, and every now and then a Chink managed to stick 
 his toes in, hold on for a second and drive his ugly 
 cutlass into one of the hands. Two of our men were 
 groaning on the hatch already, and I could see that 
 the pirates below were loading a round-bellied cannon, 
 and the yellow-shirted fiend was passing out guns. 
 Something had to be done and done quickly. I dared 
 not leave the wheel, for the breeze was freshening 
 and we were in a perfect tide-rip. But fortune took it 
 out of my hands. A dozen of the pirates managed in 
 some way to pull round our bows in a small boat and 
 they piled over the lee bulwarks like a swarm of flies. 
 I dropped the wheel, grabbed a handspike and tumbled 
 down on the main deck to do my best. Inside of five 
 seconds I was sorry I had come. 
 
 Ever fight with a dozen hyenas ? Those Chinks were 
 the worst men I ever ran up against. They bit, tore,
 
 STRANGE PORTS 295 
 
 scratched, knifed, shot, kicked and spit. I was naked 
 to the waist in a minute and my shoes were gone in 
 two. But Everett had seen what was happening and 
 he edged his men round, back to back, and yelled to 
 the second mate, who was nearest the cabin, to run 
 there and hold it so that the Chinks could n't get to 
 windward of us that way. 
 
 Our leaving the bulwarks had allowed still more 
 pirates to scramble up, and they cut the braces in a 
 minute. I saw Everett's face settle into a hard, wicked 
 knot when he glanced up from the middle of the scrim 
 mage and saw the yards banging. But that saved us. 
 
 The brig lost headway, was caught by the current, 
 swung back, and then the sails filled for a moment, 
 and I saw the junk slide away from us and drag ahead. 
 The sails emptied again, and as the brig rose on a 
 big swell the junk was jerked bodily up under the cut 
 water. The crash of the collision threw us down on 
 our hands, the whole boiling of us. Assorted yells 
 came from the junk, the pirates ran to the sides of the 
 brig and our sweating men jumped on them and the rest 
 was a slaughter. In half an hour the decks were clear 
 of the living pirates, and on the wreckage of the junk 
 were floating a few Chinks whom the second mate 
 potted from the fife rail. 
 
 We had lost two men killed outright and every man 
 jack was wounded. I had a rotten slash in the arm 
 myself. I saw Everett grinning over us, his hand 
 wiping at the breast of his torn shirt. " Mr. Grindley," 
 he called out clearly, " please turn the men to to clean
 
 up. Overhaul the running gear and get the yards 
 braced. Tell the cook to get breakfast for all hands." 
 
 " He 's dead, sir," said somebody, and Everett 
 frowned. 
 
 " How many are dead ? " he inquired in a very loud 
 voice. I answered him. " Two, the cook and the 
 carpenter." 
 
 " Tell off two men as cook and carpenter," he 
 croaked, and started to step slowly toward the poop. 
 But he didn't get far. One of the hands leaped for 
 ward and caught him as he fell. 
 
 We laid him on a bit of sail on the after-deck and 
 stared down at him, careless of the threshing yards. 
 Across his chest ran a deep cut, and every breath he 
 took sent bubbles out of it. He looked up at us and 
 rocked his head. " Turn the men to," he said in a 
 whisper. " Get the brig under way again. Don't 
 mind me." 
 
 The damage to the ship was slight, and half an 
 hour later I came back to the quarter-deck and looked 
 down at the skipper. He smiled up at me and I knelt 
 down so as to catch what he was trying to say. " It 
 was a great fight," he whispered. " What luck ! I 
 wouldn't have missed it ... after twenty-three years 
 on a mail boat. . . . I 'd like to see China. But I 
 sha'n't. Take the brig home . . . neither wife nor 
 child ... I suppose folks won't understand, but it 
 does n't matter, my son ... a great lark. Bury me 
 in Hue." 
 
 He was passing, and the shadow of the spanker
 
 STRANGE PORTS 297 
 
 shaded his face wet with sweat. I listened. He was 
 smiling to himself. Suddenly his eyes flashed over me 
 and toward the thick, blue sky. " I 'm clearing for the 
 last time . . . for a strange port," he muttered. He 
 was silent again for an interval, then suddenly raised 
 himself on one elbow. His right hand shaded his 
 steady eyes ; he drove his sobbing breath out in a loud 
 cry, "Land, ho! " 
 
 I threw a spare sail over him and laid the course for 
 Hue.
 
 JAMES GALBRAITH, ABLE-BODIED 
 SEAMAN 
 
 WE were talking idly, leaning back in our chairs on the 
 lanai of the Moana Hotel in Honolulu. My companion 
 was telling me about the loss of the bark Quickstep, 
 whose captain sat across the lawn, gazing stupidly out 
 at the gaudy Pacific, with an expression of bewilder 
 ment. 
 
 " Yes, they fired him. The local inspector went for 
 him, I can tell you ! Just sailed into him and told him 
 he was no seaman at all ! Took away his master's papers 
 for one year, by Jove ! and nearly kicked him out of 
 the office. A shame, too! Look at the man's reputa 
 tion: never had an accident before. Because he aban 
 dons a leaky old tub that 's sinking under his feet, they 
 disgrace him." 
 
 The speaker lit another cigar, flinging the match 
 away with a nervous and scornful gesture. " It 's a 
 shame ! " 
 
 Across the lanai came Thomas Price, master of the 
 tank steamer Murray Wells, and my friend hailed him 
 jovially. " What you doin' out here at Waikiki, you 
 old fraud ? Is the Wells in drydock, that you 're free 
 for an hour ? " 
 
 Captain Price smiled gently, shook hands quite for 
 mally, with a vast grip, and sat down. " The ship 's all
 
 JAMES GALBRAITH 299 
 
 right," he announced. " But that wharf -pump is 
 choked. Been choked two hours. So I thought I 'd run 
 out here." He took off his cap and laid it on the table. 
 
 " Yes, of course something happened." The speaker 
 turned to me, tossing his head to emphasize the satire 
 of his remark. " The Wells has been crossing the Pacific 
 for three years, carrying crude oil, and in all those three 
 years Captain Price here has n't been ashore an hour 
 at either end of the run. Think of it! Gets into 
 Monterey eight days out from Honolulu, ties up, and 
 the pumps start throwing oil into her hold again, while 
 Price skips out, buys a morning paper, gets a box of 
 cheap cigars, hands in his accounts and papers at the 
 office, comes back, and sails for Honolulu after being 
 just four hours in port after a voyage of twenty-five 
 hundred miles. Crosses the ocean and gets into Hono 
 lulu at 10 P.M., pumps the oil out, buys an evening 
 paper, turns in his accounts, buys six sacks of rice, and 
 is off for Monterey again before daylight. Wah ! Why 
 don't you quit and be a street-car conductor ? The sea 's 
 no place for a man any more." 
 
 " We keep pretty steady at it," Price agreed gently, 
 looking at me with a slightly humorous glance, as much 
 as to say, " Listen to the lad ! " 
 
 " Why, they run ships nowadays just like the old 
 Fifth Avenue busses in New York. Up and down and 
 up and down. Then they fire you if they don't like the 
 color of your hair or you 're sassy to a lady passenger. 
 Look at poor old Stuntser, there. Left the Quickstep 
 just half an hour before she foundered. Did his best,
 
 by Jove ! And they take his ticket away from him 
 disgrace him ! Punish him as if he were a thief ! It 'a 
 a rotten shame, by Jove ! " He looked at us with great 
 ferocity, chewing on his cigar and evidently enraged to 
 the last degree. 
 
 Price nodded slightly and thoughtfully. " Well," 
 he said gently, " I suppose they looked at it this way : 
 he did n't bring her in." 
 
 "Bring her in! Man, she sank!" 
 
 " Well, then, he let her sink," Price went on imper- 
 turbably. 
 
 " My heavens, Price, what sort of a machine-made 
 man are you, anyway ? " came the cross demand. 
 " Would you have had the man go down with an old 
 tub like the Quickstep? Ain't one man's life worth 
 more than ten Quicksteps? Say, ain't it, now?" 
 
 The captain of the tanker looked at us meditatively. 
 " Oh, of course," he said presently, digesting the matter 
 thoroughly. " If they were passengers. Certainly, of 
 course." 
 
 " Passengers ! " roared our companion, in huge dis 
 gust. " Are n't sailors worth saving ? Say, are n't they ? 
 You 're a sailor. Answer me." 
 
 Price flushed faintly. " Stuntser was the captain. 
 He was paid to bring the Quickstep into port." 
 
 " Look here," was the response. " The Quickstep's 
 cargo was plain cement, worth something or other a 
 barrel. She carried a crew of sixteen. She was sink 
 ing. Stuntser quit her three hundred miles offshore 
 came in in a little open boat, without the loss of a man.
 
 JAMES GALBRAITH 301 
 
 By Jove ! after all that, saving his crew an' all, 
 they fire him. It 's a burning shame ! And you run 
 your old tanker like a street-car, at the beck and call of 
 some little clerk in Monterey and another little clerk in 
 Honolulu. Say, do you ring in a time-clock when you 
 get in and when you leave ? " 
 
 I almost got up, the tone was so insulting. But Price 
 simply flushed a little deeper and shook his head mildly. 
 " You 're young," he said very gently. " I used to think 
 just that way. But I always remember Galbraith 
 James Galbraith, A.B." 
 
 " Galbraith ? Galbraith ? Don't remember him. 
 Who was he? What did he do ?" 
 
 The captain of the Murray Wells glanced at me 
 apologetically. " He shipped with me once. I was 
 very young at the time; really had no business with a 
 command. It was a long time ago. It doesn't matter." 
 
 For the first time I interfered. " I 'd like to hear 
 about him, if you don't mind," I insisted. 
 
 " Mind ? Oh, of course not. Why should I mind ? 
 Well, this was the way of it. 
 
 " I was a youngster on the steamship Ardmore, one 
 of the steel wool-ships the Yellow Funnel line ran years 
 ago to the Colonies. I was fourth officer just out of 
 my 'prentice days, you know, and quite lucky to get a 
 start in so good a line. We carried coal up to Vladivo 
 stok that voyage from Japan, and found no place to 
 discharge our cargo. It was in the fall, cold and a little 
 stormy. We lay there for a month. 
 
 " Just above us I used to see an ancient, dingy, bark-
 
 302 ACROSS THE LATITUDES 
 
 rigged steamer, lying to a weedy cable. She was small, 
 top-heavy, and miserable-looking. Her name it was 
 in white capitals across her stern was the Patrick 
 Dare. I understood she was a sealer that had 
 been caught by the cruisers off the Pribilof Islands 
 and condemned as a poacher. She was waiting to be 
 sold. 
 
 " They found us a place to discharge our coal, and 
 we set to work, sweating through the short, chilly days, 
 up to our eyes in dust and grime. I did n't like the job. 
 We of the second mess used to complain bitterly at night. 
 !Not where the old man could hear us, though. We were 
 afraid of him. One morning the captain came and called 
 me out of the 'tween-decks. ' Do you want to take the 
 Patrick Dare to Honolulu ? ' he asked me. ' A Japanese 
 has bought her and loaded her with stuff for his firm 
 down there. There is n't a man in port who can or will 
 take her out. They came to me about it. You '11 have 
 command, of course. An ugly job pick-up crew. 
 Will you go ? ' 
 
 " I am amazed now that I took it. But I was young. 
 I had never commanded a vessel. That old, weedy sealer 
 suddenly became magnificent in my eyes and utterly 
 desirable. I left the Ardmore in an hour, looking back 
 at the cloud of grime and dust that hung over her, with 
 pity for the men who were condemned to stay with her 
 in their vile and commonplace toil. I even thought a 
 little scornfully of the old man, who would continue in 
 his decent, unadventurous position, conning that big 
 steel hull through commercial waters, with freight rates
 
 JAMES GALBRAITH 303 
 
 at one end of the vista and engineers' indents at the 
 other. While I 
 
 " Well, I saw my new employer. He was a delicate- 
 fingered Japanese, quite alert and businesslike. ' You 
 had better sail immediately/ he told me. ' The ice will 
 soon freeze here. You will make the voyage in nineteen 
 days. Leave to-morrow. That will get you into 
 Honolulu on Wednesday, the thirtieth of November. 
 See ? ' He laid it out for me with his pencil on the 
 blotter that lay on the counter. And when he was done, 
 he went and counted out a small bag of gold coin and 
 handed that to me. ' For the ship's expenses. I have 
 engaged a crew. The engineer is an American; the 
 mate also. The rest are Japanese, Captain.' 
 
 " I left that little office with the last word ringing in 
 my ears. I suppose I strutted through the bazaar with 
 the air of an emperor or a freshly commissioned ensign. 
 I took a sampan and started out on the bay for my new 
 command, with the bag of coin in my pocket, my instru 
 ments on my lap, and the ship's papers in a tin case at 
 my feet. My pride received a slight setback when I told 
 the Chinese boatman, ' The Patrick Dare/ for he 
 glanced at all my paraphernalia, my uniform (minus 
 the insignia, which I had turned in to the steward of the 
 Ardmore, of course), and then at the rotten craft I was 
 bound for. The final insult was when he took his fare 
 and turned away without the usual demand to be my 
 sampan-man for the ship. Evidently he thought that 
 the Patrick Dare could not afford a sampan during its 
 stay in port.
 
 304 ACROSS THE LATITUDES 
 
 " The mate received me at the gangway, and the 
 engineer thrust his tousled head out of the half-deck 
 with watery eyes fixed on me. l How-do, Cap'n,' he 
 greeted me. f When are them stores comin' off ? ' 
 
 " Now, this was a natural question which I should 
 have been able to answer. I knew it, but I knew noth 
 ing of the stores. Nobody had said a word about them. 
 I carried it off with a ' Stores will be off this afternoon. 
 Got all your coals ? ' 
 
 " He nodded apathetically, and I turned to the mate 
 with relief. He was a slight, energetic-looking, sharp- 
 faced fellow, about my own age. He told me the crew 
 was on board and that what things he could find to do 
 he had done. l We 've all Japs, sir,' he informed me. 
 
 " l This is a Japanese vessel,' I responded with dig 
 nity. e Cargo stowed ? ' 
 
 " ' Yes. This old tub leaks/ 
 
 " ' What did you expect ? ' I demanded. 
 
 " ' Nothing,' was the sulky answer, and he went off 
 cursing the Japanese roundly. 
 
 " You have no notion how disappointed I was as I 
 inspected my new craft. The solitary virtue that I could 
 find in her was possibilities of speed. The engineer, 
 who cursed her from keelson to truck, admitted that she 
 was heavily engined and that her lines were good. ' But 
 she'll shake the plates out of her,' he asserted loudly. 
 ' She 's got high-speed, single-actin' machines, and 
 they '11 chew and chew and chew till the hull opens up 
 like a rotten orange or she drops her propeller.' The 
 boilers were bad. The starboard water-tank leaked like
 
 JAMES GALBRAITH 305 
 
 a sieve. The donkey-engine was wholly out of commis 
 sion from rust and disuse. The bunkers were filled with 
 the vilest of coal. 
 
 " I left him and went ashore, after long signaling for 
 a sampan, to fetch off some provisions which the 
 Japanese steward said were to come to us. They had 
 not arrived, and I was bent on sailing at dawn. So I 
 went after them. 
 
 " I found the comprador, and made him understand 
 that there was no pay coming unless the provisions were 
 on board by sundown. Then I went up to the Admiralty 
 Building to get my correct time. 
 
 " As I came out and was hurrying through the bazaar, 
 an old man met me. He looked at me a moment and 
 then said, t Captain, want another hand ? ' 
 
 " I stopped and stared at him. I saw an aged, rather 
 feeble-looking European. His hands were stubby- 
 fingered, and the backs of them tattooed. His face was 
 big, round, with a fringe of white beard. He took off 
 his cap, and I saw that his hair was thick and gray. But 
 he gave every appearance of being too old to work. I 
 told him so. 
 
 " ( I 've got good discharges, sir,' he croaked, reaching 
 into some huge pocket and dragging out a tremendous 
 book of them. ' All V. G., sir.' 
 
 " Now, I was in a hurry. However, it suddenly ran 
 through my mind that here was an old seaman who 
 might have to starve all winter if he did n't get a ship 
 for the outside. I knew the Ardmore would n't take him, 
 and the only other craft in port was the American ship
 
 306 ACROSS THE LATITUDES 
 
 Charles F. Sargent. She had been laid up, for my mate 
 had been third on her and was taking this chance to get 
 out of Vladivostok. The old man held out his pre 
 posterous bunch of papers and repeated, ' They're all V. 
 G., sir. In sixty years I never got a bad discharge, 
 sir. 7 
 
 " Why didn't I tell him he was too old ? you ask. God 
 knows. Because I was young and pitiful and puffed up 
 with pride and anxious to show my capacity, I nodded 
 to this ancient shellback, and he followed me into the 
 sampan and out to the Patrick Dare. Here I turned 
 him over to the mate. ' I guess we '11 take this man with 
 us/ I told him. l Put him on the articles, will you ? ' 
 Then I was busy till dark. 
 
 " I had had my supper alone in the dingy saloon, 
 when the same old sailor came into my cabin cap in 
 hand, and croaked out, i Speak to you, sir ? ' 
 
 " i What is it ? ' I demanded crossly. 
 
 " ( Mr Buxton wants to sign me on as ordinary sea 
 man, sir. I 'm A.B., sir ; I 've been A.B. for sixty 
 years. James Galbraith, A.B., sir.' 
 
 " I fancy I stared at him a long while, for he started 
 to draw out his bundle of discharges again. I capitu 
 lated on the spot. ' Present my compliments to Mr. 
 Buxton,' I told him, ' and ask him to come here.' 
 
 " When Buxton came I ordered him to sign the old 
 man on as able-bodied seaman. 
 
 " ' He 's too old to be any good,' the mate protested. 
 But I insisted, and he went off grumbling. 
 
 " Before turning in I went out on deck to see that all
 
 JAMES GALBRAITH 307 
 
 was well. The engineer was sitting in his cabin scrawl 
 ing on his slate. In response to my inquiries, he said 
 that he was all ready to go, as ready as his engines ever 
 would be giving me to understand that he had doubts 
 of our arriving anywhere, on account of the weakness, 
 inefficiency, and general worthlessness of the Patrick 
 Dare's machinery. On my way back to my room I 
 passed the old seaman. He was busy over a boat- 
 lashing and paid no attention to me. 
 
 " I was up shortly after midnight, and at dawn the 
 Patrick Dare had sixty fathoms of grassgrown cable 
 dripping on her forward deck, an ancient wooden-stocked 
 anchor was at the cathead, and down below the rusty, 
 high-speed engines were whining shrilly. From my 
 place on the bridge I saw the harbor-lights swing a little 
 and then begin to drop astern. The mate joined me, 
 and wanted to know what to do with the anchor-cable. 
 I told him to stow it as best he could, regardless of its 
 weeds and barnacles. Then I rang to the engine-room 
 for full speed, and we trundled off into the eye of the 
 belated dawn, making something like twelve knots an 
 hour, I reckoned. As we passed the Ardmore, standing 
 out of the dark water like a huge building, I pulled the 
 whistle-cord, and an appalling guttural blast of sound 
 rose into the chill air. Ten minutes later we signaled 
 the guard-vessel below and tooled out into the lower 
 bay. 
 
 " Three days afterward the mate and the engineer 
 and I sat at table, at our meagre supper. We were dis 
 gusted with the ship and with each other. Buxton, the
 
 308 ACROSS THE LATITUDES 
 
 mate, threw his roving eyes about the saloon and openly 
 cursed the whole outfit, easily and freely. ' By heavens, 
 I never thought I 'd get down to this,' he told me. ' Now, 
 you 've got a good berth waiting for you, Captain, when 
 you get this old tub into port. But, I swear, I '11 be 
 ashamed to look for another ship. Who 'd have thought 
 I 'd ever work for a Jap ? ' 
 
 " The engineer glanced up from his plate, and his 
 watery eyes held a doubtful, sly look that offended me. 
 1 If she breaks down we '11 have a devil of a time getting 
 to shore,' he said, almost menacingly. ' And it '11 serve 
 these stingy Japs right, too. Just serve the villains 
 right to lose this old tub, blast 'em. Nobody but a 
 heathen would send such a craft to sea. And of course 
 she 's not insured ? ' He glanced carefully at me. I 
 nodded, and he burst out, ' Yes, that 's the way ! 
 Could n't trust their own dirty countrymen to take this 
 hooker to Honolulu; had to get white men! We get 
 nothin' but wages, and they rake in the profits ! ' He 
 shook his head threateningly and departed to his engine- 
 room, quivering with rage. 
 
 " The mate glanced at me and winked. ' Booth ain't 
 stuck on his job,' he remarked. ' Well, if we don't fetch 
 her in, there 's no harm done. What 's a Jap, anyway ? 
 Let 'em run their own coffins.' And he strolled away. 
 
 " I sympathized with my two officers ; they were the 
 only two white companions I had ; I really was much of 
 the same opinion as they. I cursed my first command 
 and the Japanese that owned her. Really, she was a 
 scandal.
 
 JAMES GALBRAITH 309 
 
 " But we mogged along, and as the engines recovered 
 from their years of disuse we made steadily better time. 
 The weather grew fine after we were out of the Japan 
 Sea and into the Pacific, and the days grew fewer that 
 I must count before I handed the Patrick Dare over in 
 Honolulu. 
 
 " My only recreations these days was James Galbraith. 
 The mate had watched him about his work for a day or 
 so, and then dubbed him Able-bodied, a grim jest on his 
 rating on the articles and his real physical weakness. 
 The doddering old chap pottered round the deck, did 
 odd jobs, kept himself incessantly busied over useless 
 tasks. As the rest of the crew were Japanese, I ac 
 cepted with great formality Buxton's jesting remark 
 that we ought to make him second mate. I can see the 
 old chap's face when I called him up and told him I 
 had decided to have him act as a second mate, and for 
 him to move his luggage (he had only a little bag of it) 
 into the empty room next to mine. He fumbled his cap, 
 stared up at the stubby masts of the Patrick Dare, and 
 croaked, ' I never was an officer, sir. I 've stood the 
 second mate's watch, but I 'm no officer, sir. I 've dis 
 charges, sir, to show that I 've always done my duty. 
 If you say so, I '11 act as second mate.' 
 
 " ' Certainly,' I responded curtly, and Buxton, with 
 infinite humor, promptly handed him over my watch, 
 as the mate and I were standing watch and watch. ' It 
 will give the captain a rest/ I heard him explain 
 solemnly, when I had stepped away. It was a great 
 joke, of course.
 
 310 ACROSS THE LATITUDES 
 
 " The old fellow took it all seriously. For two days 
 we enjoyed it, and at the end of that time I was slightly 
 astonished to find that it had ceased to be a joke. Old 
 Galbraith was a good officer. He was far better than 
 Buxton. He handled the crew in an easy, masterful 
 style that even I envied. And the Japs seemed perfectly 
 satisfied to jump when he croaked at them. Now and 
 again he would say in all seriousness to me, ' I 've never 
 been an officer, sir, before. I 've always been an A.B., 
 not having the learning required. My discharges will 
 show that I have done my duty well, sir.' And I 'd re 
 spond, ' You are doing all right, Mr. Galbraith.' Then 
 the old chap would stare out of his old eyes and clasp 
 the bridge-rail in his worn old fingers and stand a little 
 straighter and throw a little more volume into his queer, 
 husky voice. 
 
 " Once Galbraith insisted on showing me his dis 
 charges. I sat at the little desk in his room while he 
 stood hovering over me, handling the musty, stained, 
 crackling papers that recorded his sixty years at sea. By 
 Jove! you ought to have seen that prodigious mass of 
 papers ! Old discharges written by some long-dead 
 captain by the light of a torch on some East Indian 
 wharf fifty years before; others with the neat scrawl 
 of Her British Majesty's consul in some port you 
 never heard of an endless succession of slips of paper 
 testifying under oath that James Galbraith had done his 
 duty as an able-bodied seaman with good will and good 
 judgment. 
 
 " ' I 'm getting old, now/ he said suddenly. ' It 's
 
 JAMES GALBRAITH 311 
 
 hard to get a ship these days. They tell me I 'm too 
 old, sir.' 
 
 " ' How old are you ? ' I asked him. 
 
 " ' Seventy years old/ he croaked, gathering the papers 
 up in his shaking hands. 
 
 " ' That 's too old to work/ I said carelessly. ' Why 
 don't you quit it ? ' 
 
 " He glanced at me apologetically, with a feeble shake 
 of his gray head. ' I 'm only an A.B./ he muttered. 
 ' What would I do ashore ? I never stopped ashore.' 
 
 " What was there to say to him ? Nothing. I looked 
 at him. His years of arduous and ill-paid toil were 
 heavy upon him. He was losing the strength that had 
 fought and vanquished so many seas on so many ships. 
 His eyes were dimming. He was old. What could he 
 do ? What was the reward of this outrageous task that 
 destiny had imposed on his manhood and which he had 
 accomplished? It made me think, I tell you. It oc 
 curred to me that each day some seaman suddenly 
 reached the limit of his inglorious activity, was no 
 longer signed on by mates or picked out by anxious 
 skippers passed up forever by the users of the sea. 
 And what had he learned ? What had his life amounted 
 to ? It was a question, was n't it ? 
 
 " Day after day I watched Galbraith about his self- 
 appointed duties and wondered what would become of 
 him when he * signed clear ' in Honolulu. Probably this 
 was his last voyage. Nobody else would be so foolish 
 as I. What would become of him ? 
 
 " I am not sure that I determined that all this was
 
 312 ACROSS THE LATITUDES 
 
 an injustice to Galbraith. In those days I accepted most 
 of what was as right and proper. I might try to ex 
 plain, but I don't remember questioning the justice of 
 fate or Providence. I was young, and why should I ? 
 Age brings the doubts that hurt and destroy. 
 
 " One thing did impress itself slowly on my mind : 
 the difference between Buxton and the acting second 
 mate. Buxton was cock-sure, able, alert, loud-mouthed, 
 quite fancy at times in his language and his notions of 
 his own dignity. Galbraith was silent, slow, impassive, 
 inexorably busy, never giving utterance to a thought, an 
 imagination, or anything but an order. The endless 
 spangles of stars in the sky, the rolling horizon, the 
 changing sea never seemed to call up a single abstraction 
 in his mind. He seemed to move in a world where things 
 came up in regular order to be done and, being done, 
 passed into the preterit forever. ISTow and then he dis 
 played an odd skill or silently employed a daring 
 manoeuver that showed that he had studied his profes 
 sion with thoroughness and understanding. But other 
 wise he was simply an old man, fast declining in 
 strength and able-bodiness. 
 
 " I set our course so as to enter the Hawaiian archi 
 pelago much farther south than is usually done. In 
 fact, I made so that I would see the island of Laysan, 
 which is very far out of the ordinary course. But I 
 reckoned that we should lose little time by doing this, 
 and, to tell the truth, I did n't trust the seaworthiness 
 of the Patrick Dare. First, she was ill laden ; second, 
 she was leaking badly somewhere aft. I thought it
 
 JAMES GALBRAITH 313 
 
 would do no harm to run among the islands in the 
 case of accident. 
 
 " We sighted Laysan and headed east for Honolulu, 
 engines going full speed, smooth sea, fair breeze. Then, 
 with the suddenness of an explosion, the engines jarred 
 off the propeller, sent the tail-shaft grinding after it, 
 and stopped with a roar of steam and a leaping of decks. 
 Booth, the engineer, crawled out on deck, hanging to a 
 Japanese oiler, and swore feebly. The firemen and the 
 assistant engineer followed them with yelps of fear. 
 
 " It was mid-afternoon, and Galbraith was on watch. 
 Buxton was asleep in the saloon, and I was reading a 
 book. I came on deck with a jump, Buxton hard at my 
 heels. Galbraith was staring down at the engineer, 
 flinging questions at him which that scalded artisan an 
 swered with groans and tossings. It did not take us long 
 to estimate the damage. It was irreparable. The water 
 was pouring in the broken stern-bearings, flooding the 
 engines. In time the Patrick Dare would sink. True, 
 she might live for a day. She might live for a week, 
 could we get the pumps going. But the pumps were 
 below, clouded in hot steam. And the white plume on 
 the funnel showed that the fires were going out fast. 
 
 " While the crew stood round with gaping mouths, 
 Buxton and I talked it over. ' We gotta quit her right 
 away/ he said. ' Laysan is astern there, not over a hun 
 dred miles. We can make it to-morrow in a small boat. 
 We gotta do it, and do it quick/ 
 
 " Really that seemed the only course. I ordered him 
 to get the boats ready, and went about the work of
 
 314 ACROSS THE LATITUDES 
 
 saving the papers, finding out the particulars of the 
 breakage, and assuring myself the case was hopeless. I 
 must say, had we been in any steamer track I would 
 have held on, waiting to be picked up. But we were a 
 hundred miles out of the usual track. We might lie 
 there a month without sighting a sail. 
 
 " The poor old craft settled very gradually, by the 
 stern. Now and then she rolled in a queer, distress 
 ing way. Buxton passed and repassed with anxious 
 face. The engineer was squatted on the deck, oiling his 
 burns and wrapping his arms and neck with waste. 
 Galbraith was on the bridge, silent and apparently 
 asleep, so far as any comprehension of what had hap 
 pened was concerned. 
 
 " It was just sundown when Buxton reported that all 
 was ready. He had our three boats swung out, with 
 provisions and water in them, and the crew mustered. 
 The Dare was riding, her bow a-cock, tumbling wildly 
 in the heavy swell. ' She won't last long, sir,' Buxton 
 rattled off. * We 're all ready to go now. What 's the 
 course, sir ? ' 
 
 " ' West by south,' I told him. 
 
 " ' All right, sir. We '11 follow you. Mr. Booth, 
 take No. 2 and keep just astern of the Captain ! ' 
 
 " I suppose I hesitated, for he snapped out, l Shall 
 you take Galbraith with you ? ' 
 
 " ' Certainly,' I replied, and looked around for him. 
 I did not see him, and turned and told them to clear 
 away their boats and start out. ' I '11 follow later,' I 
 said.
 
 JAMES GALBRAITH 315 
 
 " The two boats pulled away, and the six or seven 
 Japanese who composed my boat's crew waited impas 
 sively. I went in search of Galbraith. I found him 
 nowhere on deck. I searched the ship for him, and at 
 last I heard the sound of a hammer tinkling on metal, 
 somewhere in the hold. I went down the engine-room 
 ladder to the 'tween-decks and yelled, ( Galbraith ! 
 Galbraith!' 
 
 " Far below I saw a sudden gleam of light on the 
 shallow water that swept back and forth as the Dare 
 rolled in the seaway. A white face was turned up to me, 
 and the old fellow's croak ascended : ' Send another man 
 down here, Captain.' The face was withdrawn, and I 
 heard the tin-tink-tinkle of metal on metal again. 
 
 " Now, I fully intended to order Galbraith up and 
 into the boat. Instead, I went on deck and ordered two 
 Japs down to help him. They went without a word, 
 lowering themselves into the dark engine-room swiftly 
 and silently. I sat down on the nearest hatch and won 
 dered what Galbraith was doing. A pretty thing for 
 the master of a ship to do! 
 
 " Presently it struck in on me that I had better be 
 doing something myself. Four sailors were still stand 
 ing round, watching the departing boats, which were 
 now mere specks on the fast-darkening ocean. I set to 
 work to hoist what sail I could to the freshening breeze. 
 
 " An hour later the Dare was swinging along to the 
 westward at a very fair gait. I put a man at the wheel 
 and took a lantern and went below. It was not till I 
 reached the platform far below that I saw Galbraith's
 
 316 ACROSS THE LATITUDES 
 
 light. There were three or four feet of water washing 
 about the engine hold, and I saw that he was at work 
 far in the shaft-tunnel. I managed to find sufficient 
 footing to claw my way to him. He was jamming some 
 calking in about the edges of a plank shutter he had 
 made to stop the tunnel. The water was squirting round 
 him, and he swore as he worked. 
 
 " When he had braced it to suit him, he croaked out, 
 ' That '11 hold a while. Now let 's get them pumps 
 a-going.' He saw me and waved his hand respectfully. 
 ' She was leaking down this tunnel over the shaft, sir. 
 So I stopped it up. Not enough '11 come in now to hurt, 
 just so we can get the pumps going. Where's the en 
 gineer ? He can get his fires going again and pump her 
 out.' 
 
 " l The engineer 's gone,' I told him. ' But the as 
 sistant is here.' I turned and ordered the Japanese 
 machinist to start the fires, get up steam, and clear the 
 pumps. 
 
 " Without a word those heathen went to their task 
 alertly and energetically. As Galbraith climbed up the 
 ladder and I followed him, I looked back into the hold 
 and saw the lanterns glow out into the murk as they lit 
 them. Then came a rattle of orders in Japanese, and 
 the grunting song of the men swinging to their gear. 
 
 " On deck, Galbraith glanced at the sails, nodded, 
 spat over the side, and asked, l Where 's the mate and 
 the engineer, Captain ? ' 
 
 " t They thought the ship was sinking and skipped out 
 with two boats for Laysan.'
 
 JAMES GALBRAITH 317 
 
 " He pondered this, and shook his head, with profound 
 wisdom. ' The mate 's too young,' he rasped mildly. 
 ' Does he think he 's a passenger ? ' 
 
 " His voice rolled along the deserted deck to the bridge 
 
 and the man at the wheel : ' Full and by, you 
 
 ! ' He followed it with a bellow into the engine- 
 room : ' Come up here, two of you, and set the f oretop- 
 mast stays'l ! ' 
 
 " I was amazed. You could not have imagined such 
 a volume of tone issuing from so feeble a frame. And it 
 carried the note of command, of insistent and relentless 
 discipline. Two men rushed up and on deck, staring 
 round fearfully, muttering, ' Fbretopmas' stays'l, sir ! ' 
 as though suddenly wakened from a deep slumber. 
 
 " They ran the staysail up smartly ; other sails, too. 
 I saw Galbraith dive into lockers and drag out huge 
 rolls of clumsily bound canvas. His men sweated under 
 his quick orders, and the slender, ill-stayed masts of the 
 Dare were clothed, yard by yard, with drumming sails. 
 And as each new cloth went aloft and was spread, she 
 drove on more swiftly. 
 
 " By midnight we were under all plain sail, and the 
 assistant engineer reported that the leak was under con 
 trol. Galbraith was on the bridge, conning the little 
 vessel with skill and prudence, his gray head barely 
 crowned by his old cap, now rakishly on one side. His 
 great bellow filled the decks when he hurled an order, 
 and I saw his pale eyes steady like those of a youth 
 whenever they caught something amiss. 
 
 " Dawn found us hastening along with a big curl of
 
 318 ACROSS THE LATITUDES 
 
 white water under our bows. The wind was gradually 
 hauling and we headed the Dare up for Honolulu. Gal- 
 braith smiled as he saw how close to the wind we sailed, 
 and muttered, ' Better 'n steam, any day.' 
 
 " I had difficulty to get him to turn in and sleep. 
 His long-slumbering spirit seemed to have wakened. 
 He betrayed no sign of fatigue or weariness. His 
 hands still shook, to be sure, but they obeyed his 
 muscles easily. Now and then he glanced at me with 
 a triumphant, respectful glance, as much as to say, 
 ' You still have a mate ; don't worry because Buxton 
 is gone.' 
 
 " After his sleep he came on deck, and we determined 
 on our course for Honolulu. When that was done 
 Galbraith said hoarsely, ' Them other fellows must have 
 thought they was passengers! What did they sign on 
 for ? Heh ? Scared ! Heh ? But we '11 take her in, 
 sir.' 
 
 " Another time he approached the subject from an 
 other point of view. 
 
 " l Some of these young chaps think their bally hides 
 are too precious to risk. What 'd that owner sign 'em on 
 for ? To save their own skins ? Heh ? No. To take 
 the ship to Honolulu.' 
 
 " Now I have confessed that I nearly left the Dare 
 myself my first command, too. But I could not have 
 explained why I stayed, or why Buxton's going was so 
 paltry an affair, till the old seaman's words rang in my 
 ears : ' What did the owner sign them on for ? ... To 
 take the ship to Honolulu/
 
 JAMES GALBRAITH 319 
 
 " During the next three days, as we beat up for Oahu, 
 I pondered this long. 
 
 " At my elbow was James Galbraith, for sixty years a 
 sailor before the mast, unhonored, ill-paid, cared for by 
 no one ; yet doing his single duty with great steadfastness 
 of purpose and simplicity of heart earning his wage. 
 I, in the heat of youth, had been willing to throw away 
 my trust and save my own life, thinking that it was 
 worth more than the business I was on. I had been 
 saved from that. The big lesson had been written before 
 me by James Galbraith, A.B. Because he had learned 
 this, and lived it, his pocket bulged with insignificant 
 papers, discharges from a hundred ships that he had 
 served well. Now, at the end of a long life, he passed 
 on to me the duty of earning my wage, handing over to 
 me the sum of his laborious toil : to take my ship to its 
 port. 
 
 " It is a hard lesson. You will find many who value 
 a human life above all else. That is right and proper. 
 But at sea you are not paid to live : you are paid to do 
 your duty, as others do it, without repining, steadfastly, 
 earning your wage." 
 
 " And you got in all right ? " I demanded, when he 
 paused. 
 
 " We did. I left Galbraith' to look after the ship, and 
 I went to the office of the consignees. I 'm afraid I laid 
 some stress on the shape the Dare was in, but the 
 Japanese merely nodded and paid me off, after my ac 
 counting. Never a word about my bringing in a steamer 
 that was practically a wreck. And, after all, he was
 
 320 ACROSS THE LATITUDES 
 
 quite just. I recall that I said nothing about the six 
 hands who had stayed with us because we had needed 
 them." 
 
 " And James Galbraith ? " 
 
 The master of the Murray Wells put on his cap and 
 prepared to go. " Galbraith ? I don't know. Shipped 
 out for some place or other, I suppose. Good man, too. 
 I gave him a first-class discharge to put with all the 
 others in his big book." 
 
 " Nothing more ? " I demanded incredulously 
 " after all his work and " 
 
 Price glanced down at me with a faintly puzzled ex 
 pression. " More ? What more ? He was paid for it." 
 
 He left us, striding back to the big tanker and his in 
 cessant industry, leaving me and my companion to stare 
 at the disrated master of the wrecked Quickstep, still 
 bowed down by the weight of a punishment he could not 
 comprehend.
 
 THE VOICE OF AUTHORITY 
 
 THE captain of the Gaelic stood in the doorway of thei 
 smoking-room, a trim, quiet figure. His eyes met the 
 glances of us all steadily and then fixed upon the judge's 
 face. " The engineer reports a tube blown out of one of 
 the boilers," he said calmly. " It may take some hours 
 to plug it up. We shall be on our way before long." 
 
 The judge nodded and the captain vanished, leaving 
 behind him a subtle effect of having stopped us midway 
 of our course of conversation. Somebody spoke. " What 
 did the captain come and tell us that for ? " 
 
 The judge turned on the speaker and shook his head. 
 " The captain has a great responsibility. A steamer 
 stopped in mid-ocean presents unusual possibilities of 
 trouble. Nobody worries over broken machinery. It 's 
 the people. We 're six hundred persons, capable of 
 strange things. So long as the ship goes on and we hear 
 the trundle of the screw, we yield to the subtle manifes 
 tation of authority, we obey the captain because it is he 
 who keeps the ship on her course. It is his only hold 
 on us. If he fails to steer true, if he does not, day in 
 and day out, maintain the harmonious working of all the 
 machinery, we lose confidence in him. And six hundred 
 people offer prodigious possibilities of anarchy." 
 
 " But he can depend on a lot of us to help him/' came
 
 ACROSS THE LATITUDES 
 
 another voice. " I guess we could keep things in order 
 on this ship if worst came to worst." 
 
 " Perhaps," the judge answered. " But where would 
 we get our authority ? From the captain ? You see, it 
 all depends on him in the end." 
 
 " But he would manage to call on some one who would 
 help him," the last speaker objected. " If trouble were 
 brewing he would certainly call for help." 
 
 The judge gazed at us all and replied heavily. " I was 
 on the Parthia ten years ago." 
 
 Interest blazed up among us. " She lost her propeller 
 off Oonamak " " You were three months adrift " 
 " I understood that there was killing " " How was she 
 brought in at last ? " " Who was the unlucky skip 
 per ? " " Is it true that murder ? " " You were 
 there ? " 
 
 We tossed scraps of that famous tragedy of the 
 Pacific back and forth about the judge, vying with each 
 other in throwing suggestions to him, innuendoes, hints 
 of horror and terror. And he gazed austerely at us till 
 we fell silent. Then he said, " I '11 tell you what I know 
 of it. But I can't attempt to justify my opinions. As 
 a matter of fact, we were saved by a man sixty years 
 behind the times, a missionary to the heathen who was 
 scorned even by his own sect. But he had authority. 
 That is the only explanation I can offer you. When you 
 have heard the facts you can form your own judgments. 
 
 " You remember that the Parthia sailed from 
 Yokohama in August of 1898 and was not heard from 
 till the 17th of December of the same year. I gather
 
 that none of you have heard anything more definite than 
 rumor as to what occurred during those months when 
 the Parthia was lost to this world. So I shall start in 
 at the beginning and give you some details. 
 
 " We left Yokohama in the morning and our destina 
 tion was Seattle. The Parthia was not a large vessel 
 and she was crowded with passengers, not of the tourist 
 variety, but mainly professional men and their families, 
 clerks homeward bound on a holiday, captains going to 
 the Coast to take charge of ships, a few officers en route 
 to a new station the crowd that throngs eastbound 
 steamships from Oriental ports when fares are low. I 
 myself was going to Maine after three years' service as 
 consul in an interior city. The captain of the Parthia 
 was an experienced man who had formerly commanded 
 sailing ships ; a taciturn, diffident fellow getting well 
 along in years. The crew was made up of Europeans, 
 except in the steward's department where Chinese were 
 employed. 
 
 " The passage was expected to consume twenty-four 
 days. 
 
 " When we were five days out from the Japanese 
 coast, at four o'clock in the morning, the propeller 
 struck a floating log and was broken off. The racket of 
 the racing engines, the hissing of steam and the clatter 
 of rending steel was terrific, and within ten minutes after 
 the accident three hundred men, women, and children 
 were huddled on the dripping decks of the Parthia 
 peering out into a wet, clinging fog. There was not what 
 you could reasonably call a panic, the officers of the ship
 
 324 ACROSS THE LATITUDES 
 
 behaved excellently, but it was half an hour before we 
 were finally assured by the captain himself that the 
 steamer was uninjured and would not sink. In that 
 space of time the nerves of us all were thoroughly un 
 settled and we went back to our staterooms convinced 
 that a gross deception had been worked on us. We 
 dressed, and by six o'clock we were all out on deck again, 
 prepared to demand explicit answers to our questions. 
 
 " Captain Myers, unused to dealing with a throng of 
 passengers, failed to satisfy some of us that we knew the 
 exact truth. He admitted that the propeller was gone 
 and the engine disabled, but he made the mistake of as 
 serting that ' everything was all right,' and that it was 
 ( only a matter of time till the steamer would be under 
 weigh again.' In short^ he allowed his consciousness of 
 having to depend on himself to influence him too far. 
 He refused to recognize what we thought were our just 
 claims and threw all the weight of his authority upon 
 us to make us keep silence and accept his unsupported 
 statement as to our present and ultimate safety. 
 
 " Had the morning been bright and clear, or had the 
 accident happened at some hour in the daytime, it is 
 likely that we would have been in a different temper. 
 But we were profoundly conscious that we had barely 
 missed being drowned in our beds. We attributed our 
 safety to luck, to Providence, and therefore suspected 
 Captain Myers of plotting against us. In short, where 
 as individuals we would have congratulated ourselves, as 
 a crowd we were sullen and distrustful. 
 - " I have a notion that the captain, inside of twenty-
 
 VOICE OF AUTHORITY 325 
 
 four hours after the accident, knew how we felt. He 
 had got some sail on the steamer, all, in fact, that she 
 would carry, and it did n't give her steerageway in the 
 baffling foggy breeze that blew down from Kamchatka 
 and chilled us. But he stuck to his assertion that we 
 were all right and, as I view it now, kept his head excel 
 lently. 
 
 " During the next week we passengers got acquainted 
 with each other in a fashion impossible on a speeding 
 liner. IsTow that we were finally assured of the soundness 
 of our vessel, seeing that our meals were regular, our 
 sleep uninterrupted and the discipline of the crew 
 unrelaxed, we drew together and made the best of it. 
 Really, we were quite contented that week. True, the 
 fog still eddied about us and the inefficient sails flapped 
 drearily on the slender yards and the Parthia rolled in 
 the trough of the easy swell. But we were engaged in 
 finding out who we were. 
 
 " I recall vividly the gradual emergence of the 
 Reverend Jonas Hampstead. I presume that none of us 
 would have noticed him under ordinary circumstances. 
 But we were isolated, for an indefinite period, and we 
 dug into each other's history and possibilities and char 
 acters with unwearied zest. Among three hundred 
 decent and colorless folk the Reverend Mr. Hampstead 
 stood apart, both by manner and by action. 
 
 " He was a spare, pale complexioned, elderly man who 
 clothed himself in black, rusty garments of ancient out. 
 He had never been handsome and age had accentuated a 
 meager jaw, thin nose, and stern eyes. His hands were
 
 326 ACROSS THE LATITUDES 
 
 crooked, apparently from some form of malnutrition, and 
 his voice was harsh and nasal. He was by no means 
 retiring, but he seemed indifferent to all the rest of us. 
 At times he was a blanket on our mild festivities. Not 
 that he talked, or argued ; he simply overlooked us with 
 a calmness that irritated. For some time we knew noth 
 ing of him, except that he had been a missionary for some 
 Presbyterian society in some out-of-the-way city in the 
 inside of China. 
 
 " But as we turned expectantly from one to another 
 for amusement our eyes constantly fell upon the 
 Reverend Jonas Hampstead. He aggravated our rest 
 lessness. He tempted us to impertinence, with his air 
 of indifference, of contempt, of scorn of our little bust 
 ling activities. And one by one we pitted our audacity 
 against his reserve and drew him out, word by word, till 
 we gathered a faint sketch of his history. 
 
 " He was seventy years old, and for fifty years had 
 been preaching the gospel to the heathen. In all that 
 time (we learned), he had visited the United States but 
 twice, both times to raise funds for some obscure mission 
 work. The last time he was home had been ten years 
 before. His contempt for the state of his church in 
 America was profound. 
 
 " You see, Jonas had left the theological seminary 
 years before you and I were" born. He had been taught 
 a stern, hard religion, the religion of your fathers and 
 mine ; in those days men were not afraid to believe hard 
 things. Jonas had gone from the seminary filled in 
 every corner of his narrow soul with dogmas of predes-
 
 VOICE OF AUTHORITY 327 
 
 tination of saints, damnation of unbaptized infants, 
 salvation by grace a whole category of things we no 
 longer dare believe. And he had gone out to the heathen, 
 carrying to them the message of an unbending and harsh 
 faith. Can't you see him, in that forgotten inside city 
 of China, preaching hell and the condemnation of sin 
 ners ? And he had been constant and industrious. He 
 had taught what he believed to the placid and un- 
 astonished heathen day in and year out, for a score of 
 years, for twoscore years, for fifty years. And all the 
 time the world from which he came had moved on, drop 
 ping by the wayside the doctrines he cherished as im 
 mutable and eternal. His church had passed by him, 
 hastened on to broader things, to easier doctrines, to 
 popular dogmas, toward liberality. I suppose nobody 
 had ever taken pains to tell him that Presbyterians 
 did n't teach election of saints any more. I doubt 
 whether he would have listened, anyway. He wasn't 
 that kind of a man. 
 
 " So here he was among us, on the drifting Parthia, 
 and we studied him gleefully and several young mission 
 aries shook their heads at him pityingly, and we all 
 laughed in our sleeves at a relic of a time we had never 
 known. Of course he did n't catch the point of our chat 
 ter. We were pert, disrespectful almost; and he stood 
 there unmoved by it all, austerely contemptuous of our 
 business, our gossip, our petty philosophy. Once in a 
 while he would open his mouth and say something, when 
 one of the young missionaries stepped too boldly. I wish 
 you could have heard him. Jonas did n't argue. He
 
 328 ACROSS THE LATITUDES 
 
 merely restated a fact, coldly, firmly. And I have seen 
 the younger man flush angrily and turn away uneasily, 
 as though somebody had whispered a caution in his ear. 
 
 " You observe we had the foundation for an infinite 
 jest. We had Jonas, an antediluvian in faith and belief, 
 a ridiculous, unmodern figure, and we had all the leisure 
 in the world in which to taste the joke and roll it under 
 our tongues and talk it over and laugh. But in some 
 way the jest failed to march. If the old man would have 
 argued I think we might have made our joke good. But 
 you see he never offered to debate a matter. He settled 
 it calmly, stating his doctrine as a fact indisputable and 
 exactly true. One could n't hold one's face against that. 
 It shook one's whole knowledge of the world when Jonas 
 laid down his preposterous, incredible dogmas as with 
 authority. One felt that, after all, one ought to keep 
 one's beliefs. He made us feel as though we were 
 deserters, children run away from school, truants from 
 faith. 
 
 " Possibly all this bores you. But I must impress on 
 you the general character of the Reverend Mr. Hamp- 
 stead, for he suddenly did something so amazing, so 
 unexpected that We gaped. 
 
 " I must confess that one week put an end to our ac 
 ceptance of Captain Myers's optimism. The eighth day 
 dawned and the Parthia still swung in the trough of the 
 swell, and at the head of the saloon stairs the chart bore 
 testimony to the fact that since the screw had been 
 twisted off we had drifted, sailed and sagged just sixty- 
 seven miles, and that to the southward and not eastward.
 
 VOICE OF AUTHORITY 329 
 
 We knew that it would take a gale of wind to give the 
 poor sails we could spread power enough to send us along 
 toward our destination at even the slowest pace. Also 
 we had figured out that our chances of being picked up 
 by another vessel were slender indeed. Few vessels take 
 any route we were traversing, and in the constant fog we 
 feared to think of an approaching ship. 
 
 " I was one of the committee appointed in the first 
 cabin to confer with Captain Myers and explain to him 
 our feeling. It was a dreary meeting. Myers confronted 
 us, outwardly at ease, but displaying at intervals an un- 
 sureness, a hesitation that did not fail of its effect. He 
 went at length into the fact that the ship carried pro 
 visions enough for five months, that we were comfort 
 able and safe, that he was doing his best, that in due 
 time we would be missed and a steamer sent to look 
 for us. He had it all figured out on a slip of paper. 
 He promised us relief within thirty days. 
 
 " We went back and reported in the saloon. Mothers 
 sat and listened to our statement of the result of our mis 
 sion while their babies cried or gurgled or played on the 
 carpet under the feet of the silent, unaffected Chinese 
 servants. Some bitter words were said. I 'm afraid we 
 were pretty despondent. But we agreed to put up with 
 our plight for thirty days. 
 
 " It was an interminable month. The ship steadily 
 grew uncomfortable. We stood harshly on our rights. I 
 recall that we were always complaining to the captain 
 that the second-cabin passengers infringed on our deck- 
 room, that they were overbold and paid no attention to
 
 330 ACROSS THE LATITUDES 
 
 the usual notices restricting them to certain portions of 
 the ship. Myers listened to everything pleasantly, 
 quietly, silently, his gray head always neatly covered by 
 his spotless cap, his long uniform coat carefully buttoned 
 across the chest. But he did n't do anything but wait. 
 
 " No steamer came to our rescue. The thirty days 
 passed and a week besides. The committee waited on 
 the captain again and insisted that something be done. 
 A boat should be sent off. The engines should be re 
 paired. We commanded him to take us to port. This 
 time Myers listened frowningly. He explained that it 
 was over a thousand miles to the nearest inhabited land. 
 All the resources of a shipyard would be needed to fix 
 the machinery. He was doing his best. We must wait. 
 
 " Then we exploded. 
 
 " It should have been avoided at any cost, that loud, 
 angry debate between the master of the Parthia and us, 
 the outraged passengers. Our hot words carried all over 
 the vessel, clear down into the second cabin, into the 
 engine-room, into the quarters of the crew. I confess 
 that we were in the wrong and Myers was right. But 
 it was a difficult impasse. It ended in the captain's per 
 emptorily ordering us out of his cabin. 
 
 " That night the ship seethed with discontent and even 
 mutiny. The crew hung round the saloon doors. The 
 firemen sneaked on deck and listened to our red-hot argu 
 ments in favor of seizing the ship and working her (God 
 knows how!) into some port. Women wailed. Chil 
 dren wakened and bawled piercingly. Men cursed 
 violently and we welcomed the second-cabin passengers
 
 VOICE OF AUTHORITY 331 
 
 when they came in a body to back us up in any desperate 
 measures. 
 
 " You can see that it only needed a match to explode 
 the magazine. The next morning a seaman refused duty. 
 He stood by the saloon door and cursed the mate. The 
 captain came and spoke curtly. He ordered the rest of 
 the watch to put the recalcitrant in irons. No one moved. 
 We all stood, silently waiting for the outcome of the 
 struggle. It seems to me that the whole ship was voice 
 less, while the grayhaired, immaculately dressed captain 
 stared down at the grinning sailor. It is unbelievable, 
 but nobody of us all raised his hand or gave a sign in 
 favor of authority. Let the captain fight it out. 
 
 " For the second time the old man said austerely, ' Put 
 that man in irons.' No one moved. The seaman, drunk 
 with insolence, laughed loud and long, staring round at 
 us all as much as to say, ( Look at me ! I 'm the man to 
 talk ! ' And Myers, without a tremor of hesitation, with 
 out a look at any of us, quietly drew a revolver from his 
 pocket and shot the man through the forehead. 
 
 " For the moment we were silent. We saw the dead 
 man curled up on the deck, and we went back to our 
 rooms. The whole situation was changed. Our informal 
 agglutination was dissolved. In the presence of death it 
 was every man for himself. We avoided the saloon. We 
 came to dinner scatteringly and viewed askance the figure 
 of the captain at the head of his table, imperturbable, 
 silent, steady-eyed. Women peeped at him through half- 
 opened doors. One heard now and then, from some cur 
 tained cabin, the sound of stifled sobs. We men did n't
 
 332 ACROSS THE LATITUDES 
 
 speak to each other. We moped apart, shaken by 
 mysterious forebodings, staring at the gray, cloudy sea. 
 Now and then some man would come out into the middle 
 of the smoking-room, light his cigar with a flourish and 
 start to say something. But we would look aside, get up 
 and leave him to mumble inarticulately to himself; we 
 were afraid. 
 
 " The next morning we rose from a half -eaten break 
 fast to hear the sound of the ship's bell tolling. Heavy 
 feet tramped by. There was the low swish of canvas 
 dragged along the deck, the hoarse voice of the chief 
 officer muttering commands. We came out, blinking, 
 and saw the captain standing on the lower bridge, in his 
 immaculate uniform. His low, quiet tones met our ears : 
 ' Present my compliments to Mr. Hampstead and ask 
 him to read the burial service.' 
 
 " I feel yet the sudden surprise that we evinced. Why 
 Hampstead ? Why this solemn, stern old man with the 
 crooked hands ? Why not some of the other ministers ? 
 Why not the man in sleek bands and proper cloth who 
 read prayers on Sunday in the first cabin saloon ? Why 
 Hampstead ? 
 
 " The old man came out, his worn Bible under his 
 arm, and took his stand by the plank on which the canvas- 
 swathed body lay. And as he did so we realized that 
 Hampstead, the old Presbyterian, had kept himself apart 
 from us. He had taken no share in our discussions. He 
 had silently refused to censure the captain, to blame 
 Myers for our great, appalling mishap. We recognized 
 an enemy in him. He was not one of us. He was neither
 
 VOICE OF AUTHORITY 333 
 
 shocked nor moved to priestly rebuke. We scowled at 
 him. He approved of a murder. 
 
 " So fancy to yourselves our bitter amazement when 
 Jonas opened his Bible and read in a harsh voice : l Thy 
 way and thy doings have procured these things unto thee; 
 this is thy wickedness, because it is bitter, because it 
 reacheth unto thine, heart.' Ten minutes later they 
 tipped the plank and the body of the sailor slid off 
 into eternity and, if Hampstead was to be believed, 
 into hell. 
 
 " We listened with dark looks. I see Hampstead's 
 austere, coloress face bent on us in stern admonition, 
 while on the bridge Myers contemplated us all with 
 unperturbed countenance. The ceremony ended and I 
 think many of us caught the glance that passed between 
 the two men the captain who had killed the body and 
 the minister who had condemned the soul. It was a 
 brief, poignant interchange of steadfast purpose, as if 
 Hampstead had said to the captain : ' I will do my part. 
 Be strong,' and Myers had returned, ' I am still strong/ 
 
 " I think we did n't lack a certain courage ourselves, 
 for we took pains to intimate to Hampstead that we 
 detested him, that we thought him the degraded tool of 
 a murderous despotism. Not that our attitude affected 
 him. He was unmoved. He looked out upon us with 
 his stern old eyes and gave us to understand that he 
 knew; that he regarded us as pettish children, who had 
 to be beaten with stripes into obedience to right, and to 
 authority. 
 
 " Of course, we left him out of our discussions after
 
 334 ACROSS THE LATITUDES 
 
 that, carefully avoiding him and warning one another 
 against him. By this time we looked upon the captain 
 as a monster, bloodthirsty, cruel, desirous of outrage 
 and rapine. It sounds ridiculous in the telling, but we 
 honestly had lost all sense of law and order. Out on 
 the dull, fog-shrouded Pacific we were three hundred 
 people battling for elemental life. And our first and 
 hottest wrath was toward the embodiment of authority, 
 against the calm, immovable soul who gazed down at us 
 from the bridge and controlled us and ruled us and gov 
 erned us by the power of authority. 
 
 " So we went from hot talk to cold plotting. Dis 
 creetly, silently, we went about organizing ourselves 
 into a band to seize the ship from the captain and take 
 her into some port How? We had a dozen schemes. 
 Only let us get the upper hand, we stormed, and we '11 
 save ourselves. Were we to stand for murder and slow 
 starvation ? Not we. We were American citizens. We 
 were able to look out for ourselves. We were n't going to 
 stand Myers's insolence and incapacity any longer. 
 
 " Some of us (I 'm ashamed to say it) tampered 
 with the crew. We were mad, of course, but then, we 
 were in a hard plight and the constant view of women 
 crying, the incessant sound of women whispering in 
 distress, gets on one's nerves. And the steamer still 
 rolled in the trough of the sea, and the chart still 
 showed that our infinitesimal progress led no whither. 
 
 " I sha'n't go into details, but one night, when the 
 deepest of us in the plot did n't suspect it, trouble 
 broke out. In that bitter, disillusioning half hour we
 
 VOICE OF AUTHORITY 335 
 
 learned our lesson, the lesson taught by a crew out 
 of hand, drunk with stolen liquor and maddened by 
 release from long restraint. The Parthia became a 
 hell. The wildest of us were terror-stricken at sight 
 of the lawless, blazing passions of the men whom we 
 had ourselves approached with proposals of a mutinous 
 character. As we trampled on each other to get within 
 the shelter of the cabin, as we heard the shrieks of 
 fleeing women, the oaths and wild uproarious laughter 
 of pursuing fiends, as we rushed out only to be hurled 
 back by rough arms and crashing fists, we realized that 
 between us and our women and our children and the 
 worst of fates, there stood only the arm of Captain 
 Myers and his authority. 
 
 " It was dark night and we could see neither friend 
 nor foe. I recall that I myself stood on the saloon 
 stairs, clinging to the banisters, staring upward at 
 the closed door beyond which the battle was raging. 
 Now and again a sharp report echoed down to us and 
 we held our breath, knowing that death was abroad. 
 
 " Gradually all of us huddled round the stairs, gaz 
 ing up at the huge door that gave and strained under 
 the impact of hurtling bodies. We wondered how we 
 should come out. One man would whisper across to 
 his neighbor to know whether one might count on the 
 officers standing by the captain. Another would groan, 
 licking his dry lips with trembling tongue. Women, 
 holding their children to their breasts, swayed among 
 us, wide-eyed, ready to scream when the big door be 
 tween them and unspeakable outrage crashed inward.
 
 336 ACROSS THE LATITUDES 
 
 " You will say that three hundred of us should havo 
 mastered the crew. But you must remember that we 
 were unnerved, shot through with suspicion, strug 
 gling in the net of fear and horror and weakness. 
 And the crew outnumbered the men of us. Oh, it 
 was a sweet plight that we had got ourselves in! 
 
 " The door opened at last. We held our breath 
 and peered miserably at the blank darkness it dis 
 closed. ~No one appeared. From outside came the 
 sound of sighs, of odd, choking groanings. Some one 
 hurried past, with firm, heavy step. A voice from 
 way forward called out, ' Turn on the deck-lights ! ' 
 
 " The order was obeyed and we caught the reflection 
 of the rising glow of the electric lamps outside as the 
 current poured into them. Then a figure appeared in 
 the open doorway, the immaculate, calm figure of 
 Captain Myers. We heaved ourselves toward him, 
 shouting. 
 
 " But he paid no attention to us. His crisp tones 
 cut over our heads. ' Mr. Hampstead ! ' 
 
 " We surged back, peering over our shoulders. We 
 saw the old missionary rise from his seat far back in 
 the saloon and set down a little girl from his arms. 
 He walked forward quietly and looked up at the cap 
 tain. ( I am here/ he said simply. 
 
 " ' The purser and the chief officer have been killed/ 
 said Myers quietly. ' I rely on you to look after the 
 passengers. The steward will report to you. Please 
 allow nobody on deck.' And after a cool stare at us 
 all the captain stepped back and disappeared.
 
 VOICE OF AUTHORITY 337 
 
 " I wish I could narrate the small events of the 
 night, but I can only state that the old missionary took 
 command with a definiteness, a sureness, a silent im- 
 periousness that balked any opposition. He herded us 
 to our cabins, listened to the complaints of women, 
 soothed with crooked hands weeping children, within 
 an hour had cleared the saloon and was sitting placidly 
 beside the steward, reading his Bible through large, 
 iron-rimmed spectacles, while the Chinese boys slipped 
 around cleaning up the mess of dirt, torn clothes, and 
 shredded matting that marked the tumult and conflict 
 of the mutiny. ISTow and again Hampstead would cease 
 reading and enunciate a Chinese sentence in a harsh, 
 nasal voice. Each time the boys would gather quickly 
 and then separate on their varied errands. 
 
 " In the morning we learned something of what had 
 really happened. We saw splintered wood-work about 
 the decks, strange, bluish splotches on the white planks, 
 an uneasy and shamefaced alacrity in the movements 
 of the crew. In the shadow of the bridge four bodies 
 lay under a tarpaulin, and we understood that the chief 
 officer, the purser and two engineers lay there awaiting 
 burial. They had been on the captain's side. There 
 were whispers that a dozen bodies had been thrown 
 overside during the night, that down in the recesses 
 of the ship mutineers were dying of their wounds. But 
 no one spoke openly of all this. We were left to sur 
 mise, to innuendo, to glances. 
 
 " At noon Hampstead buried the four faithful offi 
 cers, praying fervently over them for the rest of us.
 
 338 ACROSS THE LATITUDES 
 
 Myers stood on the lower bridge, vigilant, spotless in 
 garb, apparently undisturbed. And when the short 
 ceremony was over we went down to luncheon. 
 
 " The days after this are, to my remembrance, dream 
 like. I observe Hampstead austerely vigilant, fulfill 
 ing his duties without ardor or word of mouth. I 
 recall that our food gave out slowly, having been sadly 
 wasted by the mutineers. We came to the day when 
 we had no fresh milk, the cows having gone dry. 
 Babies suffered. We had no meat. Curry powder 
 failed. We were on an allowance of water, supplied 
 by the condensers. The dark winter of the North 
 Pacific settled down on us. We read much, sitting in 
 the saloon and warming ourselves over the steam coils. 
 
 " But we had one satisfaction. High winds had been 
 availed of to drive the Parthia into the great Japanese 
 current which flows in a huge arc from the coast of 
 Asia to the northern coast of America. The chart 
 showed steady progress eastward, of fifty miles one 
 day, of one hundred miles another day. The sails were 
 filled with sleety winds. The ship wallowed along on 
 a course. In time we would gain a port. 
 
 " As the horrors of the mutiny faded, we slowly 
 picked up spirit enough to enter into certain pale 
 amusements. We sang at night over the saloon piano. 
 We gave a concert to the second cabin and that dark 
 part of the ship blazed with lights in honor of a grand 
 reception to the first cabin. But, after all, our prin 
 cipal interest was in Jonas Hampstead's nightly 
 prayers. In taking charge of the passengers at the
 
 VOICE OF AUTHORITY 339 
 
 captain's orders, he had taken over the cure of our 
 souls as well. He was instant in season and out of 
 season. He said grace at meals. He prayed over the 
 sick children. He labored earnestly with the doubt 
 ing. He preached fervently to the sinners. 
 
 " Never did ship drift across the foggy, gloomy 
 Pacific under such circumstances as did the old Parthia. 
 From daylight till midnight we were under the spell 
 of the old missionary's zeal. True, he preached an 
 outworn, neglected doctrine, a harsh and forbidding 
 creed. But he believed it. Somehow we perceived that 
 his strength flowed from it. He thundered out against 
 all sin, making no distinction between the venial and 
 the mortal. He held before us the prospect of hell- 
 fire. He adjured us in the name of an angry and 
 jealous God to come to the Mercy-Seat. He mocked 
 our worldly hopes. He refused to listen to our argu 
 ments. And with it all he offered us no sure salvation, 
 but left us to face eternal condemnation should our 
 election not be made sure by Divine Grace. I suppose 
 that he taught us the sternest dogma of a stern sect. 
 But in those shadowy, murky days the religion he 
 lived appealed to us. It was strong meat, but we needed 
 it. Driving about on a stormy sea, with little real 
 hope of living to set foot on land, we faced with 
 equanimity the prospect that we could not appease by 
 any sacrifice a righteously wrathful Deity. We gained 
 (but transiently, I fear) a glimpse of that enduring 
 hardihood that smiles at God even when He smites. 
 
 " I fear I weary you. So I pass on, merely saying
 
 340 ACROSS THE LATITUDES 
 
 that during those miserable, half-starved weeks we bent 
 to the will of two men: the immaculately dressed, 
 steady-eyed captain, always vigilant, taciturn and ready, 
 and the gaunt, crooked-handed missionary with his 
 fiery spirit and ceaseless importunity to mend our 
 wicked ways. 
 
 " On the second of December, the Parthia then rid 
 ing out the end of a severe gale at two o'clock in the 
 afternoon, Captain Myers stepped inside the saloon 
 door and said quietly, l The Armeria of Seattle has 
 answered our signals and will tow us into Puget Sound.' 
 On the seventeenth of that month the Parthia was 
 slowly warped into her berth in Seattle and we went 
 ashore. 
 
 " But I have still something to tell. Possibly it 
 explains more than one would think. At least I like 
 to suppose that, at the very last, I caught a glimpse 
 of that ultimate strength, that ultimate base of author 
 ity which we have been discussing here while the en 
 gineers plug that boiler tube. 
 
 " We had entered the Sound, and two large tugs 
 made fast on either quarter of the Parthia. A booted 
 and waterproofed pilot lolled on the bridge. All 
 through the steamer we were packing up our belong 
 ings, writing letters, chatting excitedly over the past. 
 As night fell I walked out on the dripping deck and 
 stared at the misty hills of Washington, starred here 
 and there by glowing lights. In my tramping I re- 
 passed Captain Myers's cabin several times, and my 
 ear caught the sound of Jonas Hampstead's voice.
 
 VOICE OF AUTHORITY 341 
 
 When I had made the round of the deck and passed 
 again I saw through the partly opened shutter the 
 missionary and the captain facing each other. I heard 
 the captain say, in a curiously modulated voice, l There 
 was nothing else to do. If I did not kill the muti 
 neers, I should have failed in my duty. But I am a 
 murderer just the same. I have lost my soul's 
 salvation.' 
 
 " Blame me for listening if you will, but this is 
 what I overheard Hampstead answer, in a harsh, tin- 
 tuneful voice : ' My brother, we are both miserable sin 
 ners and unworthy of any saving grace. Let us pray.' 
 I confess that I stood there, opposite that partly opened 
 shutter, and looked in upon the two old men. Myers, 
 his gray head bared and bowed, listened while Hamp 
 stead raised his seamed meager visage to the invisible 
 sky and said in a firm voice : ' Lord, we two miserable 
 sinners stand before Thee to-night knowing that Thou 
 hast out of Thine own good pleasure chosen some to 
 everlasting life and joy with Thee and others Thou 
 hast in Thy just wrath elected to eternal destruction. 
 We are blood guilty, for the burden Thou hast laid 
 upon us has been heavy. We beg for the infinite gift 
 of Thy saving grace. But we know that Thou art a 
 sure foundation for our faith and if there be no health 
 in us and Thou hast judged us unworthy of salvation, 
 we are content. But, Gracious Lord, grant us 
 strength to save others to Thy honor and glory. AmenS 
 
 " When this extraordinary petition had been offered 
 there ensued a silence. It was broken by Captain
 
 342 ACROSS THE LATITUDES 
 
 Myers. He said quietly, ' I suppose that is quite right. 
 I must answer for my own acts. One must do one's 
 duty without reference to consequences to himself. 
 After all, what do I matter compared to a shipload 
 of people ? ' He opened the door and passed out with 
 a brisk, assured, authoritative step. As the door closed 
 after him I saw the missionary raise an agonized face 
 and heard him mutter, clasping crooked hand in crooked 
 hand, ' Lord, Thy will be done, not mine.'' 
 
 " You understand," said the judge, " that I 'm not 
 defending their theology. I am only stating the fact: 
 those two old men saved three hundred lives by virtue 
 of their belief and reliance in an impregnable and un 
 swerving authority. After all, if we are to do any 
 thing quite worth while, we have to believe in well ? 
 possibly even in our own damnation." He was 
 silent, and from the deck we heard a woman's rapid 
 wail, " Captain, if anything should happen, remember 
 I have my baby ! " 
 
 The captain of the Gaelic's quiet tones reached us. 
 " That relieves my mind of much responsibility. I shall 
 entrust the baby to you. I know you will look out for 
 it. We shall be going in a quarter of an hour." The 
 woman passed the open door with face alight, calling 
 to a companion, " We 're all right ! The captain says 
 we 're going to start in a quarter of an hour ! " 
 
 The judge nodded his head. " You hear it ? The 
 voice of authority ! "
 
 THE DOG 
 
 " LIFE is too complex," he insisted. " I admit that I 
 am a weak sister, that I Ve reached Part II of what 
 the missionaries call a Ruined Existence. But then 
 why have Ten Commandments ? Let the strong and 
 eager and virtuous observe all ten or a dozen, if they 
 are able. But I 'm not equal to it. I could easily 
 keep one commandment, and I might keep two. But 
 when you mix things up beyond that, I confess, I quit. 
 If life were simple, as your American poets sing, I 
 should be among Those Present. But I fail to solve 
 the problem in terms of x, y, and z." 
 
 The speaker stared with sunken eyes at the clean 
 bank clerk. 
 
 " Get to work ! " was the eager answer. " Mix in 
 with the good folks down here you used to know 
 'em and get acquainted with some of the nice girls 
 and make some money. Stop drinking. You could 
 do it, Reynolds. Half the men in Honolulu would 
 be glad of it." 
 
 " You are making things complex again," Reynolds 
 returned. " You say, l Stop drinking.' Done ! But 
 am I saved ? No. I Ve got to do that and then mix 
 in with nice people and make some fine girl think I 
 am all right, and then I Ve got to make some money,
 
 344 ACROSS THE LATITUDES 
 
 and so on, and so on, for ever and ever. Too com 
 plex. I can do something simple, but I 'm no juggler. 
 I can't keep ten commandments and six social must- 
 nots in the air at once. Have a drink? No? Well, 
 so long ! " 
 
 Archibald Thomas P. Reynolds finished his third 
 " dog's nose," glanced carelessly at the morning's Ad 
 vertiser and walked slowly out of Cunha's into the 
 bright Honolulu sunshine. On his way two men nodded 
 coldly and a third took pains to cut him. 
 
 In King Street he consulted the bulletin boards, 
 stared in the shop-windows and conducted himself in 
 offensively as a man of leisure for two hours. He 
 then carelessly strolled up to a cafe, where he lunched 
 on whisky and crackers. An hour later he was trudg 
 ing slowly down Kalekaua Road to the beach, under 
 the hot afternoon sun, a byword and a scandal to all 
 who saw him. For he wavered and had lost his hat. 
 Oddly enough, this was Archibald Thomas P. Rey- 
 nolds's last appearance. With rambling steps and star 
 ing eyes he passed out of the complexities of a civi 
 lization which he could not appreciate at its true value 
 into that simplicity for which his soul yearned. For 
 one hundred yards beyond the grass hut that is pointed 
 out to tourists as the residence of the former kings 
 of Hawaii a very small girl clung to the step of a 
 carriage and screamed shrilly as Reynolds came by. 
 
 A woman, leaning out of the carriage, jerked at her 
 daughter's arm and scolded her vigorously. 
 
 " Of course you can't take the dog," she said.
 
 THE DOG 345 
 
 " Hurry and get in with me ! We 're going to catch 
 the steamer and go home ! " 
 
 " I won't leave my dog ! " wailed the child, kicking 
 up the dust. 
 
 " Get in," her mother commanded wrathfully. " If 
 you don't," her wary eye discerned the shameful 
 figure of a drunken white man by the roadside, " if 
 you don't, that bad man will get you ! " 
 
 The girl stared interestedly at the Bad Man-. Then, 
 jerking her arm from her mother's grasp, she darted 
 over to him. At her heels galloped a small, wizened 
 animal with a string around its black neck. 
 
 " Please ! " she begged. " I want somebody to be 
 good to my dog ! " 
 
 " Is this your dog ? " he inquired. 
 
 " Yes ! I founded him myself ! And nobody is 
 good to him ! Will you be good to him ? " 
 
 Reynolds straightened up and looked over to the 
 lady in the carriage. 
 
 " It is a very simple matter, madam," he said with 
 an air. " I am not much as you perceive. But 
 your daughter is correct in her judgment. I believe 
 I am equal to being good to a dog. It is a simple 
 matter." 
 
 He took the dirty string out of the little girl's hand 
 and bowed as deeply as a dizzy head would allow 
 him. 
 
 " I '11 be good to him," he said hoarsely. " Now run 
 on to your mother." 
 
 The child seemed satisfied and retreated, backwards,
 
 346 ACROSS THE LATITUDES 
 
 with loving eyes upon htr late pet, who, to do him 
 justice, seemed very loth to be left behind. 
 
 " Be very good to him ! " she cried in farewell. 
 
 " Trust me ! " he replied gravely. " And thank you 
 for the confidence ! " 
 
 As the carriage sped on he looked down at his new 
 charge. The dog, a miserable mongrel, sat on its 
 haunches and looked at him, blunt ears a-cock. Then, 
 as Reynolds resumed his slightly erratic course down 
 the white road, it fell behind resignedly. 
 
 The strange pair wandered on and on, past bright 
 villas, through laughing crowds of tourists, into the 
 spacious shadows of Kapiolani Park. There, under 
 a tree, the man subsided to the grass and fell asleep. 
 The dog, after snapping at mosquitoes without suc 
 cess, howled miserably. Then it curled itself up be 
 tween its new master's feet. 
 
 The sun dipped into the ocean and the shadows in 
 the park deepened. The electric lights along the trol 
 ley line sparkled out on the poles and under them the 
 gardeners passed homeward. Out on the beach the 
 shark, threshing in its concrete tank behind the aqua 
 rium, sipped the cool water flowing in with the rising 
 tide over the pool's lip and relapsed into silence. The 
 crescent moon, swung delicately in the unfathomable 
 sky, threw down a faint radiance and roused the night- 
 birds. A brushing wing awakened the man and he 
 sat up. His aching eyes saw nothing. His parched 
 throat called loudly for a drink. He thrust his hand 
 into his pocket, and was rejoiced to find a coin. He
 
 THE DOG 347 
 
 got to his feet to start off. The tug of a string on 
 his finger stopped him. He stared down at the dog. 
 
 " The little cur ! " he said to himself. " And she 
 wanted me to be good to you! Well, that's easy. 
 Come on ! " 
 
 He wrapped the string afresh around his finger, and 
 walked away towards the city. 
 
 Just as he emerged from the park- Reynolds crossed 
 the road to a small shop where a huge Portuguese 
 woman dozed among bottles of soda-water and baskets 
 of fruit and provisions. Extracting his solitary coin, 
 Reynolds effected the purchase of some ginger-ale and 
 a piece of dried fish. With these in hand he went 
 back into the park. Under the shadows he emptied 
 the bottle and fed the fish to the dog. When the ani 
 mal, its hunger satisfied, licked its lips and wagged 
 its crooked tail, he addressed it solemnly. 
 
 " Now, that was simple, was n't it, pup ? Life, dog, 
 is very complex. But one can always be good to a 
 dog. Now run along." 
 
 He unknotted the cord from round its throat and set 
 it loose. 
 
 " Run along ! " he ordered. 
 
 But the mongrel, wagging its tail again, pursued a 
 centipede under a root, barked at a rat on some noc 
 turnal hunt, and returned to curl up between the man's 
 knees. 
 
 Reynolds considered this at length'. Finally, with 
 out disturbing his new charge, he took off his shoes, 
 threw his socks away, tore collar and cuffs from his
 
 348 ACROSS THE LATITUDES 
 
 shirt and thus began his new life. They slept together, 
 mongrel and man, till the dawn blazed over Palolo. 
 Then they went down to bathe together. 
 
 Two months later the manager of Bishop & Com 
 pany, bankers, remarked that Archibald Thomas P. 
 Reynolds did not call for his mail any more. 
 
 " He 's dropped out," said the manager, thrusting 
 the few letters into a pigeonhole. " Poor chap ! he 
 was of little account ! " 
 
 " Probably," was the reply. " Better return those 
 letters to the writers. We '11 never see him again." 
 
 And thus it came about that Archibald T. P. Rey 
 nolds did not return up the white road that he went 
 down. 
 
 Instead, a man answering to the general title of 
 " Jim " was living in a hut back of the cable land 
 ing, helping the assistant superintendent, who had 
 never heard of Reynolds, watch the safety of the big, 
 snaky cable that plunged out over the reef and into 
 the depths of the Pacific. The work was not hard, but 
 it meant long watches at night, sometimes, and conse 
 quent consumption of much tobacco. At these epochs 
 the assistant superintendent railed exceedingly at the 
 miserable cur that followed Jim, the handy man, and 
 refused to be separated from him even for a minute. 
 But in the midst of his objurgation he would find 
 Jim's eyes sharply fixed on him. 
 
 " Anybody can be decent to a dog," said that ex 
 traordinary laborer. 
 
 And the assistant would become silent, much to his
 
 THE DOG 349 
 
 own amazement. Latterly he got to bringing the dog 
 lumps of sugar, which were gratefully accepted and 
 assured double service from the animal's master. 
 
 One night the assistant kept the laborer working till 
 early morning over the foundations of the long carrier- 
 conduit that took the tender cable out over the jagged 
 reef. The trades were strong and chill. When the 
 work was done, the superintendent pulled a dollar out 
 of his pocket and laid it down before the dog. 
 
 " Take it to your master and tell him to get a drink 
 for himself and a bone for you," he said. 
 
 Jim, from the other side of the room, nodded his 
 thanks. 
 
 " I don't drink," he said briefly. 
 
 " Anything you like," was the reply. " But par 
 don me what are you doing out here, if you don't 
 drink ? Excuse my bluntness, but you 're up to better 
 things, if you 're a sober man." 
 
 Jim stared moodily out into the crisp morning 
 twilight. 
 
 " I 'm doing one thing at a time," he said slowly. 
 " Just now I 'm trying to be good to the dog." 
 
 At daylight Jim considered the pup for some time, 
 as they enjoyed their breakfast among the palms. 
 
 " We 've got a dollar that we don't need, and while 
 I don't usually take tips," he said, " I guess you 've 
 got a treat coming. Now what '11 it be ? " 
 
 The dog cocked one shapeless ear and panted, his 
 red tongue quivering out of his jaws. A sudden 
 thought struck his master.
 
 350 ACROSS THE LATITUDES 
 
 " By jove ! " he said loudly. " We need a good 
 swim, both of us, pup. We '11 go down to the sand 
 beach and swim with the rest of the good people. 
 Come on ! " 
 
 The walk to Waikiki seemed very short. Reynolds 
 (or Jim) strode along barefooted, active, lean and 
 with the faint glow of health on him. Now and again 
 he glanced curiously in upon the green lawn of some 
 villa, or drew aside as an early picnicking party fled 
 by with jesting laughter. When he emerged into the 
 open of Waikiki proper, and saw the Moana Hotel, and 
 the motors chugging outside, and heard the footfalls 
 echoing on polished floors and smelt the odors of cook 
 ing, the perfume of wines and the scent of cigars, he 
 stopped. 
 
 " I don't believe we '11 go any farther, pup," he said. 
 " This business has got to be kept simple. If it gets 
 complex and tangled up and mixed with various com 
 mandments, you '11 get the worst of it. And I 'm not 
 much, pup. It's about all I can do to be good to a 
 dog!" 
 
 As for the animal he addressed, after turning one 
 inquiring glance back on his master, he trotted on. 
 Reynolds, gazing after him, hesitated, was about to 
 whistle a recall, started on, halted, swore, and then 
 continued on his way. 
 
 Several people, seeing the lines of perplexity on the 
 lean, healthy face of the barefooted Jiaole, glanced at 
 him interestedly. But no one recognized in him the 
 man who had once been prominent in Honolulu, first
 
 THE DOG 351 
 
 as a young business man, lastly as a drunkard. The 
 dog turned in under a big gateway bearing the sign 
 " Japanese Inn." 
 
 " That settles it," Reynolds remarked weakly. 
 " They '11 serve me, no matter how many bare feet 
 I have." 
 
 He cursed the dog and his own failings. He quickly 
 crossed the lawn, avoided the main entrance, and dived 
 down an alleyway. At the end of this a Japanese, 
 dressed in white apron and jacket, received him smil 
 ingly. Half an hour later Reynolds lolled on the sea 
 ward lanai of the inn, glowing with liquor, flushed 
 with new dreams, his full, handsome face set on the 
 shining ocean. Now and then he replenished his glass 
 out of the bottle. 
 
 " I 'm going to get away," he told the waiter. " Just 
 you wait! Odd how a good drink simplifies matters, 
 once you get 'em straight in your head ! I 'm going 
 back home ! Decent citizen ! and all that ! " 
 
 The tide crept in from the blue ocean, flooded the 
 white beach and covered the reefs, and at the same 
 time another tide, of humanity, flowed slowly down from 
 the city to meet it, filling up the hotels, the parks, 
 thronging the roadways with men and women drawn 
 by idleness, curiosity, thirst, or more innocent desires. 
 In a secluded part of the lanai Reynolds finished his 
 bottle, watching the pageant. Now and again he stared 
 round him, as if he would go somewhere. But each 
 time he relapsed into his seat. When the bottle was 
 empty and the canoes began their rides over the
 
 352 ACROSS THE LATITUDES 
 
 breakers, and the surf board-riders yelled and laughed 
 outside, and the people along the beach hummed like 
 a vast swarming of bees, he suddenly remembered that 
 he had come for a swim. It was true that he might 
 have gone swimming down by the cable landing, among 
 the rocks, but it was n't safe for the dog. One must 
 look out for the dog. Where was the dog? He whis 
 tled. It crept out from under a bench, and together 
 they left the lanai and started down towards the 
 water. 
 
 Heedless of his clothes for how could a wetting 
 injure them ? he walked into the warm sea. As 
 he made his slow way down the shelving sand and the 
 water rose to his knees, to his waist, to his shoulders, 
 he forgot the dog in the pure comfort and refreshment 
 of it. He looked longingly out. He had often swum 
 to the reef before. It would be just the thing now. 
 He stretched himself out gently on the water. 
 
 A yelp behind recalled to him his charge. He turned 
 and saw the mongrel, half drowned, plunging towards 
 him with pitiful, straining efforts. He reached out, 
 picked it up and set it on his shoulder. 
 
 " Poor little pup," he said commiseratingly. " You 
 never came of a swimming breed. But you 've got 
 pluck all right. You swam." 
 
 He scanned the expanse between him and the shore. 
 It suddenly came over him how far the dog had strug 
 gled before he heard its cry and heeded it. 
 
 " By jove ! " he said admiringly. " You certainly 
 have pluck, pup ! "
 
 THE DOG 353 
 
 The animal, perilously balanced on his steadily heav 
 ing shoulder, licked his briny cheek. 
 
 On a pinnacle of coral far out Reynolds rested. 
 About him the long rollers of the Pacific heaped them 
 selves high, shook overhead like huge billows of blue 
 cloth, and swept downward in crashes of foam and 
 spray. Now and then he had to struggle to maintain 
 his position on the bit of coral. Each time he recov 
 ered himself in the broken water he felt the dog's 
 trembling body pressed closer to him. 
 
 A wave lifted him up and he felt the cruel scrape of a 
 coral branch along his leg. He regained his perch with 
 difficulty, rescuing the dog with a sweep of his arm from 
 the swirling brine. It struggled up in his arms and 
 licked his face. He suddenly felt sorry for it. 
 
 " You swam a dickens of a ways," he muttered. 
 " You saw me headed this way and you just came, too." 
 
 He mused on this a long time. Then he felt weak. 
 A dull pain made itself felt in his leg. 
 
 " That coral 's poison," he said. " And we must get 
 away while we can." 
 
 He glanced behind him, saw his chance and slipped 
 down into the water. He struck out for shore very 
 slowly. His right leg was stiff. 
 
 What seemed to him interminable hours passed re 
 soundingly. As he swam, with great strokes, buffeting 
 the waves with amazing vigor and address, but making 
 infinitesimal progress, he continually heard the shout of 
 surf-riders behind him, rose into the bosom of breakers 
 and was suddenly overwhelmed. Each time he came
 
 354 ACROSS THE LATITUDES 
 
 to the air to see the riders flitting towards the far beach 
 on the crest of the wave that had just overpassed. Once 
 in a while a ponderous canoe, laden with shrieking white 
 women, thundered by, careening down the smooth slope 
 of a wave, the brown, intent faces of the canoemen fixed 
 immovably upon the distant shore towards which they 
 sped. Later a fishing sampan, rocking wildly in the 
 broken water, was borne slowly by him. in a vast smudge 
 of foam and spray. 
 
 Gradually the blood pelting through his arteries 
 slowed up, as the liquor died in him. Perspective re 
 turned. Instead of swimming forever in a boundless 
 sea, he was thrashing wildly around within a few hun 
 dred feet of the shallows. And behind him he heard a 
 scream. There was the impact of some heavy flat 
 object on the surface of the water, a raucous call, a 
 bellow of rage, of command, of encouragement. He 
 turned his face quickly seaward. 
 
 Caught under the arch of a wave he saw a small canoe, 
 its bow swung up, its stem tilted downward. With great 
 deliberation, as he craned his neck to watch, a woman 
 slipped from her place in the bow, clutched methodically 
 at the thwarts as she descended and plunged into the 
 water beneath the uphung canoe. The wave seemed to 
 tremble forward, to totter. Foam suddenly blossomed on 
 the crest. A huge kanaka, poised across the little craft, 
 bellowed again, driving his paddle deep into the wave. 
 
 " That takes a long time," mused Reynolds. " The 
 woman will likely be hit by the canoe and she will 
 be drowned."
 
 THE DOG 355 
 
 The wave broke. Reynolds, clutching the dog to 
 his neck with one hand, thrust the arm down and dived. 
 He felt the wrecked canoe wallow overhead. Something 
 struck his leg, his right leg, too, a sharp, painful blow. 
 He emerged to face the kanaka who was plunging 
 around looking for his passenger. A second canoeman, 
 spilled some moments before, swam a hundred yards 
 away. Before his eyes the woman reappeared, rolling 
 slowly to the surface. The native, grasping her, started 
 for the beach with great, swift movements, raising the 
 water before his breast in a girdle of foam, traversing 
 the long swells with frantic and incredible speed. From 
 the sea a second canoe swept in, its crew shouting 
 terribly, beating the water with their paddles. Reynolds 
 exhaled his breath with a long " A-ah ! " He understood. 
 A shark had crossed the reef and was hunting. This was 
 what had demoralized the men in the wrecked canoe, the 
 source of the terror in the oncoming craft. 
 
 A second wave slopped the broken canoe directly 
 across Reynolds's path. Something underneath a thwart 
 caught his eye. He reached out his hand and took 
 hold of the side. He looked in. A little girl's upturned, 
 white face met his glance. He pondered quickly. It 
 was a hopeless undertaking to try to take the canoe in. 
 The girl lay in water that washed over her lips and swept 
 her hair round her throat. Any moment another wave 
 might turn it all upside down. And there was the shark 
 somewhere. He drove his feet down, thrust his arms 
 in and drew the child out. The canoe was flung far from 
 him by the rush of a surge. But he had the girl safely 
 in his grasp.
 
 Dazed, lie started slowly to swim on toward shore. 
 He made a few strokes and his limbs failed him. By 
 himself he could with difficulty make the distance. 
 Burdened with the child, it was impossible. His eyes 
 darkened. His lips sucked in brine. He was perishing. 
 But his dulled ear caught a sharp, imperative, pitiful 
 sound behind him. It was the yelp of his abandoned 
 dog. It was swimming alone. With infinite pains he 
 turned and saw it, perceived dimly the pleading eyes, 
 the upturned muzzle, the blunt ears. Shifting the child 
 slightly, he thrust out stiff fingers to save the dog. The 
 animal puffed and struggled. It yelped again. It 
 choked. And beyond them he saw the swiftly rising 
 crest of another breaker. The child in his arms sud 
 denly struggled, too. 
 
 In that instant he saw the faithfulness of the dog. 
 It had followed him. It had asked neither reason nor 
 cause. It had simply followed him. It had trusted 
 him. In his arms he clutched a child. Something 
 familiar in the girl's face moved him, how he did not 
 know. The thought came to him that she might, at 
 some time, have wished that people would be good to 
 a dog. Bitterly, quickly he made his decision. With 
 a huge intaking of breath, he dived, without one look 
 behind him, without a sound to signify that he Heard 
 a feeble yelp as the breaker engulfed the floundering 
 mongrel. 
 
 Ten minutes later he strode out of the water and up 
 the beach to a woman who sat shrieking for her child. 
 At sight of him she rose and threw herself forward.
 
 THE DOG 357 
 
 Men crowded around, with orders, with commands, with 
 warning. 
 
 In the midst of this clamor he stood, holding the 
 child. His wet clothes dripped. At his feet gathered 
 a dark pool of blood. 
 
 Somebody stepped up and took the little girl from 
 him, calling out loudly, " She 's alive ! She 's all 
 right!" 
 
 Another man, staring keenly at Reynolds, touched 
 him on the arm. 
 
 "The shark!" he said. 
 
 Reynolds shook him off. Without a word to the 
 astonished people huddled circlewise round him he 
 turned and strode back towards the sea. They called 
 to him. A man, waving his arms menacingly, ran 
 toward him. He shook his head. Gathering his strength 
 he plunged into the water, hastened out into it till it 
 rose to his waist, to his shoulders. Then, with a sigh, he 
 yielded himself to it, swimming seaward wearily, out 
 towards the crashing breakers, to the place where he had 
 heard that last piteous yelp of his dog. 
 
 " It 's so simple," he mused. " Anybody can do that. 
 Just " his calm face grew peaceful, as the warm tide 
 flowed over it " just be good to the dog ! " 
 
 And with this solitary and ridiculous substitute for 
 a morality too high for him, Archibald Thomas P. 
 Reynolds swam on and on out of that sea into an 
 other, seeking a black, blunt-eared, clumsy mongrel 
 a cur.
 
 A PERIODICAL PROSELYTE 
 
 Oh, art thou fool or madman ? 
 
 Thy port is but a dream, 
 And never on the horizon's rim 
 
 Will its fair turrets gleam. 
 
 Sealed Orders. 
 
 HE maintained that pure religion was to be found only 
 in San Francisco. " The export article they have here 
 in Honolulu," he said, " may be all right for the kana 
 kas and paTces. But it don't bite in on a white man 
 like the genuine, domestic, Peniel Mission, Kearney 
 Street, brand. I admit I Ve been poopooli [crazy] from 
 gin for three months. It 's because the religion down 
 here has n't got any real hold. You just get me an 
 order on the transports to San Francisco and give me 
 the ten dollars I need to pay my meals, and I can get 
 saved right. Look at that time in '99 ; was n't I on 
 the beach, then ? And I went to 'Frisco and the Peniel 
 people took me and converted me and I quit liquor and 
 was decent for a year till I came to Papeete and 
 these parts where religion is thin." 
 
 The man he addressed shook his head. " Nothing 
 for you, Jim," he said. " The Coast article may be 
 a bit stronger than we have down here ; but you 're too 
 far gone this time. You have taken your pitcher too
 
 PERIODICAL PROSELYTE 359 
 
 often to the well. You are n't worth saving any more. 
 Clear out!" 
 
 So James Hughes, formerly respectable but now va- 
 grantj staggered ' out of the cool office into the hot 
 street, his dirty linen trousers flapping about his bare 
 ankles. He attempted jauntiness of demeanor, but some 
 tourists, ex steamship China, drew aside at his passing 
 with expressions of disgust. Farther on a Chinese hack 
 driver, lolling in his vehicle, scoffed loudly at the 
 drunken haole. The offcast tried to assume dignity 
 enough to resent such familiarity, but his failure was 
 evident to himself and he rolled round the next corner 
 holding a shaking hand over his face. 
 
 He passed along King Street in such manner as he 
 could, swaying amid the scornful crowd, till a turn in 
 the road brought him into the Japanese quarter. Here 
 no one paid him any attention. But he refused the 
 silent invitation of the saloons and kept on till he reached 
 Iwilei, hot, desolate, and foul, but free from the sur 
 veillance of the police. Once within this asylum of 
 wretchedness he threw out his chest and strode boldly 
 up an alley. 
 
 He stopped in front of a little hovel. A child cried 
 shrilly within, its plaint rising, a thin note above the 
 hum of the quarter. The vagrant listened, nodding 
 his unkempt head. " That 's Yohara's kid," he said 
 to himself. " And I forgot the candy." 
 
 He felt in all his pockets for the coin he had spent 
 in a Kakaako bar. " Poor little kiddie," he muttered, 
 when his searching fingers failed to find anything.
 
 360 ACROSS THE LATITUDES 
 
 Then, as an after-thought, he added, " Poor Jim 
 Hughes!" 
 
 At this instant a tall, angularly built man in decent 
 clothes, wearing a broad-brimmed hat, came out of the 
 hut, almost bumping into Hughes. They suddenly 
 eyed each other, blinking in the torrid sunshine. " I 
 beg your pardon," said the stranger. 
 
 " No offence," Hughes answered, rubbing his un 
 shaven face. " My fault entirely. Did n't expect to 
 see a white man here." 
 
 " I 'm Rapp," the other responded to this suggestion. 
 " I have a school in Palama and the little boy here was 
 going to it. But he 's not well, and my wife sent him 
 home to-day." 
 
 " You 're the new missionary ? " Hughes demanded. 
 
 Embarrassment was plain on Mr. Rapp's face. He 
 swept off his big felt hat with an easy gesture and seemed 
 to interrogate the glaring heavens. " I don't know that 
 I 'm much of a missionary," he said, slowly. " I 'm 
 only a teacher Social Settlement, you know." 
 
 " Anything like Peniel Mission ? " Hughes removed 
 his own tattered hat with a faint insinuation of mutual 
 courtesy. 
 
 " Not exactly," Mr. Rapp answered. " I don't 
 believe I know just who the Peniel missionaries 
 
 are. 
 u 
 
 They 're the real article," Hughes asserted, stand 
 ing more erect. " They work in San Francisco. I was 
 converted by them several times. Their religion is the 
 only thing for a man that 's got many bad habits, like
 
 PERIODICAL PROSELYTE 361 
 
 me. Now I was thinking that if you were a Peniel 
 man, it might save me a trip to San Francisco." 
 
 The Settlement worker looked somewhat mystified. 
 The man before him showed every sign of degradation. 
 They were in a quarter of Honolulu shunned even by 
 the police. He had just come out of a hovel where 
 disease rioted, into a street where vice reigned. And 
 a white man, shaking from excesses, was looking at him 
 with appealing eyes and affirming that a sect he had 
 never heard of were the bearers of the only true gospel. 
 Lacking words, he nodded. His companion nodded back, 
 as if he quite understood, and went on : "I was just 
 trying to make arrangements to get back to the Coast 
 a little while. I need a turn in Peniel. Somehow the 
 religion down here is n't strong enough for my case. It 's 
 all right for the natives and people that don't have much 
 to fight against. But a man like me needs a good strong 
 doctrine to hold him up." He glanced at Rapp, humbly. 
 " I 'm sort of a weak sister, you see. Now in San 
 Francisco I 'm all right. The Peniel people get me and 
 I say to myself, ' Jim, this time 's the time the Lord 
 has got you by the ear, sure. You can't get lost again.' 
 Then I come back to Papeete or Honolulu. I 'm all to 
 the good for a month, maybe. I live among the good 
 people and work hard and save my money. Then the 
 religion gets sort of thinned out, and by and by I 
 take to gin, not being able to find anything in the way 
 of doctrine, and I land here in Iwilei." 
 
 " Why don't you keep going to church, and keep up 
 your good works ? " Mr. Rapp demanded.
 
 Hughes put on his hat again. " I tried it," he 
 said, " but the religion here don't bite ; honestly, it 
 don't. I 'm used to strong liquor and I want strong 
 doctrine. Anyway," he added, somberly, " the mission 
 aries don't want me around. They all know Jim 
 Hughes drunken Jim, they call me. But I advise 
 you, if the missionaries get down on you and you find 
 you 're weak on practice and shaky on doctrine, to hunt 
 up the Peniel people in San Francisco. I 'm going 
 back there myself to get saved. Seven times they 
 plucked me from the burning. All I need is the price to 
 pay my passage. You haven't ten dollars, have you? 
 I '11 pay you back just as soon as I get saved and find 
 a job again." 
 
 Mr. Rapp's interest turned to disgust. The man was 
 begging. He would have started away, except that a 
 sense of his duty made him pause to say : " Look Here, 
 I 'm in no position to give you money. If I did, you 'd 
 spend it for drink. Why don't you brace up and live 
 like a white man? Quit this life and be decent. 
 You really look as though you might have been a man, 
 once." 
 
 The thin wail of the child rose into the afternoon 
 air and Hughes shambled into the hut. As he passed 
 the Settlement worker he shook his head. " Nothing 
 does me any good except Peniel Mission. I 've tried all 
 the other brands. I ought to know. Ain't I the one 
 that needs salvation ? " 
 
 He disappeared into the interior, and Rapp, picking 
 his way down the filthy alley, heard the wail turn to
 
 PERIODICAL PROSELYTE 363 
 
 a feeble cry of joy. " I wonder," he mused, " whether 
 that is the brute's child ? " 
 
 The same question occurred to him the next day 
 when he visited the hut in Iwilei and found Yohara 
 bending over a very sick child, indeed. When he had 
 done what little he could to ease its pain, Mr. Rapp 
 determined to decide the question. " You remember 
 one man very drunk yesterday? Haole? " 
 
 Yohara seemed at a loss for a moment. Rapp sud 
 denly remembered the name the man had given himself. 
 " Hughes ? Hughes ? " he added. 
 
 The woman smiled instantly. " He bring my baby 
 candy." 
 
 " He your husband, you aiJcane ? " he continued. 
 
 She shook her head vigorously. " Aole, aole me 
 aikane. Me aikane pake." 
 
 " But he give your baby candy," he persisted. 
 
 The Japanese woman smiled. " He poopooli " 
 (crazy), she said curtly. 
 
 The next day and the next, Mr. Rapp came to visit 
 the child, now dying in the stifling heat of the foul 
 alley. But it was not till a week later that he met 
 Hughes again. This time the vagrant was sober. He 
 was bending over the fretful child when Rapp entered. 
 He straightened up and silently stood to one side while 
 the child was examined. 
 
 " How 's the kid ? " he ventured at last. 
 
 " Not going to last much longer," was the reply. 
 
 " What 's the matter ? " Hughes demanded. 
 
 " Everything principally poor food and bad air.
 
 I 'd bring milk myself, only this woman would let it 
 get warm and it would be worse than none at all in 
 side of an hour. I 've tried to persuade her to take 
 the child somewhere else. But she don't seem to 
 understand." 
 
 Hughes bent his head over the little mat a moment. 
 " Poor little kid ! " he muttered. When he straightened 
 up, the Settlement worker observed that the slack lips 
 were quivering; he did not notice that round one finger 
 was clutched a feeble baby's hand. " I '11 ask the Jap 
 what 's the matter," Hughes mumbled, not moving in 
 his tracks, feeling that faint tug on his hand. He broke 
 out into speech that Rapp could not follow, so mingled 
 was it of three languages. 
 
 The woman listened sullenly. Then she spread out 
 her empty hands in a gesture eloquent of poverty. 
 " She has no money," Hughes interpreted. " Her hus 
 band, who is a Chinese luna [overseer] on Kauai, sends 
 her no money. She is afraid." 
 
 " I can't make these people out," Rapp said, angrily. 
 " That kid would have a chance to get well anywhere 
 but here. ' I 've done what I could. It '11 just have to 
 die." He took his hat and left. 
 
 When he had gone, the woman went and sat in the 
 doorway while Hughes lifted the frail child into his 
 arms and soothed its fretfulness by grotesque grimaces 
 and snatches of song. When it was stilled he carried 
 it out into the scant shade of the hut and sat down to 
 fight out his battle. 
 
 The woman paid no attention to the haole when his
 
 PERIODICAL PROSELYTE 365 
 
 voice rose in soliloquy. He was poopooli. He would 
 not hurt the child. " Poor little kiddie," the outcast 
 was saying. " Chink father and Jap mother. No 
 chance at all. Going make [dead] because there 's no 
 one cares." He repeated this last sentence and fell 
 silent. When the child stirred and its clawlike hand 
 reached up and touched his bare throat he said again, 
 " Going make because no one cares." 
 
 The woman fell asleep, her head on her breast, and 
 Hughes shook his head. " Poor little kiddie," he whis 
 pered. " And ten dollars will do it. But I 've got 
 to go to the Coast and get saved. It '11 take that ten 
 dollars. If I don't go, I '11 never straighten up and 
 I '11 go make, too, here in Iwilei where nobody cares." 
 
 The day-mosquitoes stole in upon his emaciated body, 
 and he took off his hat and slapped at them. The child 
 wakened and cried again, twisting till its hot cheek 
 rested on Hughes' breast. His face suddenly whit 
 ened. His weak mouth drew into firmer lines and he 
 painfully got upon his feet. Thrusting past the drows 
 ing woman he entered the Hut and laid the child upon 
 its mat and drew a torn piece of netting over it. " It 's 
 got to be done," he muttered. 
 
 King Street was crowded. Gaily decked native 
 women pushed their way along in front of the shops, 
 chattering and laughing. Heavily laden coolies trotted 
 through the midstreet, swinging their baskets from 
 under the noses of the panting hack horses. Japanese 
 women, hauling bedizened children by the hand, called 
 to each other across the stream of traffic. Here and
 
 366 ACROSS THE LATITUDES 
 
 there a mounted policeman rode above the current, 
 debonair, careless, dominant. Occasionally linen-clad 
 white men lounged by in the shadow of the wall, red- 
 faced, complaining of the mid-afternoon heat. At in 
 tervals a crowded street car clanged on its hurried way 
 to Kalihi or Waikiki. 
 
 Hughes noted nothing of this. He was walking as 
 fast as he could, careless where his bare feet stepped. 
 A withered garland depended from his tattered hat. 
 His torn jacket flapped behind him, snatched at by 
 coarse flower sellers, almost plucked from his body by 
 impudent children. 
 
 He won out of the crowd and down the alley that 
 leads to the post office. A few steps more brought him 
 to a bank. Without pause he stepped in and went 
 down the big room, past the cages wherein clerks worked 
 over books, to a far window. He tapped on the counter 
 and a man at a desk inside looked up with a frown. 
 "What is it, Hughes?" he said. "The transport 
 does n't sail till next week." 
 
 " I know that," Hughes answered, " but I need the 
 ten dollars you promised me to-day. I thought maybe 
 if I did n't bother you any more, you 'd be glad to be 
 rid of me, Mr. Haskins." 
 
 " I certainly would be glad to be relieved of your 
 constant pestering," was the response. " But you 've 
 always said you could straighten up if you went to the 
 Coast. I told you I 'd give you the money to go. 
 Now you take advantage of my good nature and try 
 to work me for it now. If I give it to you, it means
 
 that you '11 go and get drunk again. Don't you want 
 to be decent ? " 
 
 Hughes' face darkened. " I never lied to you, did 
 I ? " he demanded. 
 
 " ]N"o-o," Haskins admitted. 
 
 " Well, I 'm not lying now. I need that money 
 worse to-day than I will next week. I '11 never bother 
 you again if you '11 let me have it now." 
 
 " All right," said the banker, " here 's your tenner. 
 But don't come in here any more." 
 
 Once on the street Hughes started back the way he 
 had come. But his feet lagged. Time and again he 
 stopped to gaze out over the many-tinted bay. " I 
 could make it all right," he said to himself. " And the 
 Peniel people would straighten me out, and I could 
 quit the beach and be somebody. But I guess I 've 
 had my last chance. We '11 just give somebody else a 
 show." 
 
 Two hours later the woman Yohara was seated under 
 the awning on the forward deck of the inter-island 
 steamer Caroline, a little bundle of her belongings at 
 her feet and the child on her lap. As the last whistle 
 blew Hughes shambled to her side and thrust a package 
 into her hands. " Candy," he mumbled. The mate 
 bellowed at him and he hastened away. The woman 
 drew her gown closer about her and then looked down 
 at the child. " Poopooli," she murmured. 
 
 When the Caroline had fussed out of her slip and 
 passed down the gleaming bay toward the tossing pass, 
 Jim Hughes left the wharf and shambled to Iwilei.
 
 368 ACROSS THE LATITUDES 
 
 Once safe within its precincts he sought a cheap saloon 
 and laid down his solitary quarter on the bar. 
 
 A couple of nights later Mr. Rapp was surprised 
 to see the outcast walk into his little chapel in Palama 
 where he and his wife were trying to teach a polyglot 
 assembly the virtues of cleanliness and godliness. 
 Hughes listened silently to the reading of a chapter 
 from the Bible, to the songs, to the exhortations. Be 
 fore the services ended he slipped out into the night. 
 
 Thereafter he made occasional visits to the chapel. 
 Ragged and unkempt, he was usually sober. Even 
 when drunk, he was scrupulously quiet and attentive. 
 Finally Mr. Rapp sought him out alone. " You ought 
 to straighten up," he said kindly. " I see you are 
 really interested. 1 'd like to help you." 
 
 Jim shook his head. " I 'd like to oblige you," he 
 said. " I 'd like mighty well to be saved again. But 
 the only thing that will take hold of old Jim Hughes 
 is San Francisco gospel. If I could have made it 
 back to the Coast I 'd have been all right. But I 
 passed up my chance. Don't worry about me." 
 
 Rapp was provoked, thinking it a play for his 
 sympathy. " I have n't any money to send you up 
 to the Coast," he said sharply. " And if you went 
 there, I doubt if you would do anything but what you 
 do here." 
 
 " I 'm not asking you for money, am I ? " said 
 Hughes, suddenly flushing. " I was simply trying to 
 explain to you. Good-night." 
 
 Palama Chapel saw him no more and honest Mr.
 
 Rapp's heart was troubled. But he and his wife found 
 plenty to occupy their minds in their efforts to save 
 in the morning the fruits of their toil of yesterday. 
 And in due time the Settlement came into conflict with 
 the interests of certain of the powers. Their efforts 
 to cleanse the filthy purlieus of Chinatown and the 
 still filthier slums of Iwilei met with a quiet but 
 effective opposition that finally ended in a courteous 
 notice to Mrs. Rapp that her prescribing for the sick 
 and the ailing was against the territorial law, provid 
 ing that only licensed physicians should be allowed 
 to practise in Honolulu. 
 
 Three nights later a Chinese came out of a house 
 across the street from the deserted chapel and built 
 a fire in the gutter. He worked hastily, puffing noisily 
 as he thrust little sticks of kindling into the heart of 
 the burning pile of paper. A little crowd gathered, 
 jabbering curiously. The Chinese, baring his arms, 
 poured incense on the blaze from a paper sack, work 
 ing his lips in mad incantation. A block away another 
 fire suddenly flared into the darkness, sparks stream 
 ing upward to the stars. A gong rolled its thunderous 
 beat out over the quarter. The crowd melted silently. 
 All Palama shuddered within doors. The plague had 
 broken out. 
 
 The next morning Mr. Rapp found a squad of 
 mounted police barring the way across Nuuanu Creek. 
 Beyond the bridge he saw the uninterrupted traffic of 
 the careless city. He distinguished a party of tour 
 ists viewing the sights. He turned and looked back
 
 370 ACROSS THE LATITUDES 
 
 over Palama. It was deserted of grown people. A 
 few dying fires sent little spirals of smoke toward the 
 glowing sky. Little children huddled on the curbs, 
 oppressed by the silence. From an alley near by came 
 the strident wail of a mourning woman. Against an 
 electric light pole a Chinese slept his last sleep, await 
 ing the dead wagon. 
 
 " You can pass," said the police sergeant, lighting 
 a cigarette. " But I guess they '11 shut Palama up by 
 itself to-morrow. We don't allow pokes or Hawaiians 
 into the city now. Better get your wife and take her 
 out while you can." 
 
 Mr. Rapp paused, turning his eyes from the safe 
 city back to the quarter he called home, the quarter 
 he was trying to cleanse and make decent. 
 
 "Thanks," he said quietly. "I shall stay. But 
 you '11 let Mrs. Rapp pass ? " 
 
 The sergeant, who remembered gratefully the woman 
 who had soothed the last hour of a little child whose 
 girl-mother did not know how to save it, nodded his 
 head. " You better get her through right away," he 
 suggested. 
 
 With a groan, Mr. Rapp turned and made his way 
 to the little cottage he called home. In the lanai his 
 wife waited for him, her face drawn and white. " Dear 
 heart ! " she called, as he came up the steps. " Dear 
 heart, they 're dying ! " 
 
 They were, all around them. But after that first 
 cry of anguish neither spoke again of the horror. 
 Rapp tried to suggest that she take advantage of the
 
 chance and go to Waikiki. " I can stay and do what 
 I can," he said. 
 
 She smiled. 
 
 They were almost alone the first days. Honolulu, 
 kept in ignorance of the death that knocked at her 
 door, heard only vague rumors of infectious disease 
 and the necessity an active health department felt of 
 cleaning up the native quarters. The band played in 
 Emma Square as of old, and from Fort Street to 
 Waikiki none but the government officials suspected 
 the scenes in which Mr. Rapp and his wife were acting 
 across the stream, fighting the plague with such sup 
 plies as they could get from the police. 
 
 The third day they came to their home in the little 
 lane bordered by papayas for a brief rest. The ser 
 vant had fled and they cooked what food they could 
 find, ate it, and went to sleep in the lanai, holding each 
 other's hand that neither might be seized upon by death 
 alone. 
 
 They woke to find a man in dirty cotton trousers and 
 a ragged shirt seated on the steps. He looked at Rapp 
 bashfully and nodded. " I thought maybe I could 
 help you," he muttered. 
 
 It was Hughes. When Mrs. Rapp sat up in her chair 
 and brushed the hair out of her weary eyes he nearly 
 fled. She smiled at him and he mumbled inarticu 
 lately. " Hughes thought we might need some help," 
 said her husband, doubtfully. 
 
 Quicker to understand, Mrs. Rapp nodded to the 
 outcast. " It 's good of you," she said. " Would
 
 372 ACROSS THE LATITUDES 
 
 you mind helping me to get something for us to 
 eat?" 
 
 So there were three of them that toiled in the heat 
 and smoke of the disinfecting fires. It was grim work, 
 the grimmer because they heard no news from the 
 city that hummed across Nuuanu stream, careless of 
 the dying. Hughes said little as he went about the 
 tasks that mercy set. But every now and again he 
 would look at Mrs. Rapp, nod his head vigorously and 
 smile. It was a confident smile, cheering beyond words 
 to the exhausted woman. She taught herself always 
 to respond to it, feeling a certain stimulus in thus ac 
 knowledging that all was not lost. But the hour came 
 when she did not smile in answer to Hughes' quick 
 flash of cheer. Instead she gazed at him with weary 
 eyes and sank to the steps of the little hut within which 
 the child she had been nursing lay dead. Her eyes 
 closed. 
 
 With a startled leap Hughes reached her side. Rapp 
 was far up the street burning rubbish. The outcast 
 stared down at the slender form an instant and then 
 he stooped. With an effort he raised the light body 
 in his arms and strode away toward the cottage under 
 the papayas. It was a hard climb up the lane and the 
 beads of sweat stood out on his white face when he 
 finally reached her chair in the lanai. There he laid 
 her down, gently, and sped away for her husband. 
 
 He came, his limbs shaking under him, fearing the 
 worst. He poured out all his little skill to revive her, 
 and when Hughes heard the man's voice calling to
 
 PERIODICAL PROSELYTE 373 
 
 the wife, he slipped out into the little yard, where he 
 stood, bareheaded, in the hot sun. 
 
 But it was not death, only exhaustion, that had over 
 powered Mrs. Rapp's frail body. She revived, and 
 when Hughes tiptoed up the steps he met her smile. 
 He mumbled inarticulate words and turned away, hurry 
 ing down the lane and out of sight. So there were 
 but two of them to carry on the battle. They toiled 
 harder than ever, working with frantic strength to stem 
 the tide of death that rippled to the very hills. But 
 this time they made shorter shifts of it, coming back 
 to the little cottage to meet the woman's smile, to 
 hover about her with anxious words of encouragement, 
 to steam over the stove compounding soups and dishes 
 she might enjoy. And when her smile grew stronger, 
 Hughes would slip out, his rake in hand, to battle with 
 filth, to burn rubbish, to bury the dead, to lift the 
 dying into the open air. 
 
 One day Rapp paused on the porch of his house 
 and stared out at the bay. He saw a couple of steamers 
 anchored out beyond the reef. He saw others anchored 
 inside, flying signal flags. Hughes joined him and 
 they nodded to each other. The city had been quar 
 antined. The black death had crossed the stream. 
 They were not alone. 
 
 That afternoon soldiers appeared in Palama. 
 Wagons loaded with disinfectants rumbled across the 
 bridges and squads of men with rakes and brooms 
 invaded the alleys. The city had wakened. On every 
 hand officialdom worked beside them.
 
 374 ACROSS THE LATITUDES 
 
 But it was too late. The plague had got a foothold 
 that nothing could shake. Chinese and Japanese, na 
 tive and white, they cried out in pain, panted and 
 wheezed on their mats, and died. 
 
 All day long the good priest of Kalihi-uka chanted 
 the masses for souls and flung the incense into the 
 polluted air. All day long the dead wagons toiled up 
 the hills, and the wails of the desolate rose to the 
 languid skies. 
 
 Eapp found himself suddenly overcome with dis 
 taste of life. It mattered nothing what he might do. 
 He labored on because Hughes worked beside him, 
 with his flashing smile, his eternal confidence. But 
 the end came. He went to the cottage and slipped 
 into the chair beside his wife. There he stayed, fight 
 ing for strength to live through the horror. 
 
 But Hughes accepted this, as he had the woman's 
 collapse, with cheerfulness. He still worked with rake 
 and fire and medicine. But he came oftener into the 
 lanai, where these two militant workers drowsed in 
 exhaustion of body and soul. He cooked their meals. 
 And now and then he would stop before them, smiling 
 cheerfully. " Not so bad to-day," he would remark. 
 " Only three died in Palama since morning. We Ve 
 got it under. Cheer up ! " 
 
 They looked wearily for him when he was gone. 
 The hours passed with unbearable sluggishness. And 
 when he came again they would rally a smile to meet 
 his, only to sink back into apathy. 
 
 One night he came to the house and threw his rake
 
 Rapp and his wife rose to their feet and walked feebly out. 
 
 Page 375
 
 PERIODICAL PROSELYTE 375 
 
 down with a bang. " It } s all over," he said. " No 
 new cases to-day." He breathed chokingly. 
 
 " How about Honolulu ? " Rapp demanded fretfully. 
 
 Hughes blew his breath out with a whistle. He 
 panted in the heat, still smiling. Then he threw his 
 hand out. " Come and see." 
 
 For the first time Rapp and his wife rose to their 
 feet and walked feebly out to the gate. Hughes went 
 beside them, blowing out his breath, wheezing like a 
 spent runner. " Look ! " he said. 
 
 They looked. The sky was crimson above the city 
 across the stream. Sparks soared among the stars. A 
 faint roar, as of a distant crackling surf, beat upon 
 their ears. They pushed on into the lane, followed 
 its declivity a hundred yards, and came out into a full 
 view. The city was afire from Kuuanu stream to 
 Fort Street. Rapp drew a long breath. He stared, 
 open mouthed, for a moment. Then he turned to his 
 wife. 
 
 " It is all over/' he said. " Fear has done what we 
 could not. This saves the city." 
 
 " Will they burn Palama, too ? " his wife demanded. 
 
 Hughes puffed out his white cheeks and seemed to 
 be muttering to himself. Suddenly his voice broke 
 articulately. " No" he said hoarsely. " Palama was 
 saved." He smiled. But agony gathered in his eyes. 
 
 With a sudden leaning forward Mrs. Rapp put her 
 hand on the outcast's arm. " You saved it," she said. 
 
 He gazed at her in astonishment, the ultimate 
 amazement of a man who turns a corner and finds the
 
 376 ACROSS THE LATITUDES 
 
 end of his thoroughfare. He gasped. Then he turned 
 on his heel, clutched at the air, and fell. They bent 
 over him. He opened his lips. " I lost my show to 
 be saved," he said with difficulty. " Peniel Mission 
 . . . strong doctrine. . . . Could n't go again. . . . No 
 good, anyhow. . . . Unsaved . . ." 
 
 The conflagration across Nuuanu roared into the 
 sky. 
 
 But Palama was safe. Under the papayas lay the 
 last case, his face upturned to the crimson sky.
 
 A Story of the Oregon Timber Lands 
 
 THE LAND CLAIMERS 
 
 By JOHN FLEMING WILSON 
 
 Author of " Across the Latitudes, " etc. 
 
 Illustrated by Arthur E. Becher. 12mo. $1.50 
 
 A meaty, virile story, straightforward, unpretentious and full 
 of human interest. Philadelphia North American. 
 
 The characters are strongly developed, with many pretty 
 situations and amusing incidents. Springfield Republican. 
 
 The man's courage and humor, his simple code of heroism and 
 his love, make a tale that is unexpected in its turnings, and 
 fascinating from start to finish. Boston Globe. 
 
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 with their ever-present dangers. It is a fascinating story. 
 
 Philadelphia Record. 
 
 It combines the pleasures of life in the open with a romance 
 of unusual strength, with humor, pathos and tragedy, and it 
 introduces characters of virility and perseverance. 
 
 Boston Transcript. 
 
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 or fiction, in so far as that hero seems to us a natural, a real 
 being, despite his very unselfish heroism. Chicago Inter-Ocean. 
 
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 34 BEACON STREET, BOSTON
 
 Anthony Partridge's Latest Novel 
 
 THE GOLDEN WEB 
 
 BY ANTHONY PARTRIDGE 
 
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 The skill of Anthony Partridge improves with each 
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 As a writer of mystery stories Mr. Partridge is at his 
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 willed heroine who will win your sympathy at once. 
 
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 34 BEACON STREET, BOSTON, MASS.
 
 " The novel of a decade." London Graphic 
 
 THE BROAD HIGHWAY 
 
 By JEFFERY FARNOL 
 12mo. 332 pages. Cloth. $1.35 net 
 
 A story that pulsates with life and overflows with origi 
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 A downright delicious book. Gives its author high 
 place at once among writers of fine romance. New York 
 World. 
 
 A remarkable book. It is simply human nature, sweet 
 ening and ennobling. Not only enchanting as a story, but 
 scholarly and uplifting. New York Herald. 
 
 We are introduced to such a wealth of characters that 
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 A romance of the most romantic sort, a long, brightly 
 written, youthful-hearted tale of action and love. 
 
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 A novel so particularly vivid, lovable, and always 
 interesting that we feel obliged to tell the reader : " Read 
 it, sir, or miss, or madam; Read it. If you do, you will 
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 you will miss a pleasure of the most delightful kind." 
 
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 34 BEACON STREET, BOSTON
 
 By the author of " Aunt Jane of Kentucky" 
 
 TO LOVE AND TO 
 CHERISH 
 
 By ELIZA CALVERT HALL 
 
 Author of " The Land of Long Ago," " Sally Ann's 
 Experience," etc. 
 
 Illustrated by J. V. McFall. $1.00 net 
 
 A story of vital human quality. Boston Transcript. 
 
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 Herald. 
 
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 spiritual individuality in the author. Philadelphia Press. 
 
 A simple, sweet, wholesome idyl dealing with some of the 
 great issues of life in a spirit of love and sacrifice. . . . Another 
 instance where simplicity is strength and beauty. Detroit 
 Free Press. 
 
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 and leaves a peculiar sense of clear impressions behind it that 
 is a tribute to its good art. Christian Science Monitor. 
 
 Lofty of sentiment and as uplifting a tale of modern chivalry 
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 is an artistic gem. Springfield Union. 
 
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