SPUN* 
 * YARN 
 
 * MORGAN* 
 ROBERTSON 
 

THE LIBRARY 
 
 OF 
 
 THE UNIVERSITY 
 OF CALIFORNIA 
 
 PRESENTED BY 
 
 PROF. CHARLES A. KOFOID AND 
 MRS. PRUDENCE W. KOFOID 
 
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 LONDON : GRANT RICHARDS, 
 9, HENRIETTA STREET, W.C. 
 
Spun Yarn 
 
 Sea Stories 
 
 By 
 Morgan Robertson 
 
 London 
 
 Grant Richards 
 
 1900 
 
t 
 

 I 
 
 rt 
 
 TO ITS GODFATHER 
 
 JOHN S. PHILLIPS 
 
 THIS BOOK IS GRATEFULLY 
 DEDICATED 
 
CONTENTS 
 
 PAGE 
 
 WHERE ANGELS FEAR TO TREAD - - 1 
 
 THE BRAIN OF THE BATTLE -SHIP - - 43 
 
 THE WIGWAG MESSAGE - 66 
 
 THE TRADE-WIND - - 83 
 
 SALVAGE - 103 
 
 BETWEEN THE MILLSTONES - - 128 
 
 THE BATTLE OF THE MONSTERS - - 145 
 
 FROM THE ROYAL-YARD DOWN - 160 
 
 NEEDS MUST WHEN THE DEVIL DRIVES - 175 
 
 WHEN GREEK MEETS GREEK - 195 
 
 PRIMORDIAL - - 205 
 
 THE SLUMBER OF A SOUL : A TALE OF A MATE AND A COOK 228 
 
 THE SURVIVAL OF THE FITTEST - 252 
 
 A CREATURE OF CIRCUMSTANCE - 274 
 
 THE DERELICT NEPTUNE 305 
 
 HONOUR AMONG THIEVES - - 329 
 
 vii 
 
WHERE ANGELS FEAR TO TREAD 
 
 * I have seen wicked men and fools, a great many of each ; 
 and I believe they both get paid in the end, but the fools first. 
 
 EGBERT Louis STEVENSON. 
 
 PAET I 
 
 THE first man to climb the Almena s side-ladder from 
 the tug was the shipping-master, and after him came 
 the crew he had shipped. They clustered at the rail, 
 looking around and aloft with muttered profane com 
 ments, one to the other, while the shipping-master 
 approached a gray-eyed giant who stood with a shorter 
 but broader man at the poop-deck steps. 
 
 Mr. Jackson the mate here, I s pose? inquired 
 the shipping-master. A nod answered him. I ve 
 brought you a good crew, he continued ; we ll just 
 tally em off, and then you can sign my receipt. The 
 captain 11 be down with the pilot this afternoon. 
 
 I m the mate yes, said the giant; but what 
 dry-goods store did you raid for that crowd? Did the 
 captain pick em out ? 
 
 A delegation o parsons, muttered the short, broad 
 man contemptuously. 
 
 No, they re not parsons, said the shipping-master, 
 as he turned to the man, the slightest trace of a smile 
 on his seamy face. You re Mr. Becker, the second 
 mate, I take it ; you ll find em all right, sir. They re 
 
 I B 
 
c Where Angels 
 
 sailors, and good ones, too. No, Mr. Jackson, the 
 skipper didn t pick em just asked me for sixteen 
 good men, and there you are. Muster up to the 
 capstan here, boys, he called, and be counted. 
 
 As they grouped themselves amidships with their 
 clothes-bags, the shipping-master beckoned the chief 
 mate over to the rail. 
 
 You see, Mr. Jackson, he said, with a backward 
 glance at the men, I ve only played the regular dodge 
 on em. They ve all got the sailor s bug in their 
 heads and want to go coasting ; so I told em this was 
 a coaster. 
 
 . So she is, answered the officer ; round the Horn 
 to Callao is coasting. What more do they want ? 
 
 Yes, but I said nothin of Callao, and they were all 
 three sheets i the wind when they signed, so they 
 didn t notice the articles. They expected a schooner, 
 too, big enough for sixteen men ; but I ve just talked 
 em out of that notion. They think, too, that they ll 
 have a week in port to see if they like the craft ; and 
 to make em think it was easy to quit, I told em to 
 sign nicknames made em believe that a wrong name 
 on the articles voided the contract. 
 
 But it don t. They re here, and they ll stay that 
 is, if they know enough to man the windlass. 
 
 Of course of course. I m just givin you a 
 pointer. You may have to run them a little at the 
 start, but that s easy. Now we ll tally em off. Don t 
 mind the names; they ll answer to em. You see, 
 they re all townies, and bring their names from home. 
 
 The shipping-master drew a large paper from his 
 pocket, and they approached the men at the capstan, 
 where the short, broad second mate had been taking 
 their individual measures with scowling eye. 
 
 It was a strange crew for the forecastle of an out 
 ward-bound, deep-water American ship. Mr. Jackson 
 looked in vain for the heavy, foreign faces, the greasy 
 
Fear to Tread 
 
 canvas jackets and blanket trousers he was accustomed 
 to see. Not that these men seemed to be landsmen ; 
 each carried in his face and bearing the indefinable 
 something by which sailors of all races may distinguish 
 each other at a glance from fishermen, tugmen, and 
 deck-hands. They were all young men, and their 
 intelligent faces blemished more or less with marks of 
 overnight dissipation were as sunburnt as were those 
 of the two mates ; and where a hand could be seen it 
 showed as brown and tarry as that of the ablest able 
 seaman. There were no chests among them, but the 
 canvas clothes-bags were the genuine article, and they 
 shouldered and handled them as only sailors can. 
 Yet, aside from these externals, they gave no sign of 
 being anything but well-paid, well-fed, self-respecting 
 citizens, who would read the papers, discuss politics, 
 raise families, and drink more than is good on pay- 
 nights, to repent at church in the morning. The 
 hands among them that were hidden were covered 
 with well-fitting gloves kid or dog-skin; all wore 
 white shirts and fashionable neckwear ; their shoes 
 were polished ; their hats were in style ; and here and 
 there, where an unbuttoned, silk-faced overcoat ex 
 posed the garments beneath, could be seen a gold 
 watch-chain with tasteful charm. 
 
 Now, boys, said the shipping-master cheerily, as 
 he unfolded the articles on the capstan-head, answer, 
 and step over to the starboard as I read your names. 
 Ready? Tosser Galvin. 
 
 Here. A man carried his bag across the deck a 
 short distance. 
 
 Bigpig Monahan. Another as large a man as 
 the mate answered and followed. 
 
 Moccasey Gill. 
 
 Good God ! muttered the mate, as this man re 
 sponded. 
 
 Sinful Peck. An undersized man, with a culti- 
 
 3 B 2 
 
* Where Angels 
 
 vated blond moustache, lifted his hat politely to Mr. 
 Jackson, disclosing a smooth, bald head, and passed 
 over, smiling sweetly. Whatever his character, his 
 name belied his appearance ; for his face was cherubic 
 in its innocence. 
 
 Say, interrupted the mate angrily, what kind of 
 a game is this, anyhow ? Are these men sailors ? 
 
 * Yes, yes, answered the shipping-master hurriedly; 
 you ll find em all right. And, Sinful, he added, as 
 he frowned reprovingly at the last man named, * don t 
 you get gay till my receipt s signed and I m clear of 
 you. 
 
 Mr. Jackson wondered, but subsided; and, each 
 name bringing forth a response, the reader called off : 
 * Seldom Helward, Shiner O Toole, Senator Sands, 
 Jump Black, Yampaw Gallagher, Sorry Welch, Yorker 
 Jimson, General Lannigan, Turkey Twain, Gunner 
 Meagher, Ghost O Brien, and Poop-deck Cahill. 
 
 Then the astounded Mr. Jackson broke forth pro 
 fanely. * I ve been shipmate, he declared between 
 oaths, with freak names of all nations ; but this 
 gang beats me. Say, you, he called you with the 
 cro -jack eye there what s that name you go by? 
 Who are you? He spoke to the large man who had 
 answered to BigpigMonahan, and who suffered from 
 a slight distortion of one eye ; but the man, instead 
 of civilly repeating his name, answered curtly and 
 coolly : 
 
 I m the man that struck Billy Patterson. 
 
 Fully realizing that the mate who hesitates is lost, 
 and earnestly resolved to rebuke this man as his 
 insolence required, Mr. Jackson had secured a belay- 
 ing-pin and almost reached him, when he found him 
 self looking into the bore of a pistol held by the 
 shipping-master. 
 
 * Now, stop this, said the latter firmly ; stop it 
 right here, Mr. Jackson. These men are under my 
 
 4 
 
Fear to Tread 
 
 care till you ve signed my receipt. After that you 
 can do as you like ; but if you touch one of them 
 before you sign, I ll have you up fore the commis 
 sioner. And you fellars, he said over his shoulder, 
 you keep still and be civil till I m rid of you. I ve 
 used you well, got your berths, and charged you 
 nothin . All I wanted was to get Cappen Benson the 
 right kind of a crew. 
 
 * Let s see that receipt, snarled the mate. Put 
 that gun up, too, or I ll show you one of my own. 
 I ll tend to your good men when you get ashore. 
 He glared at the quiescent Bigpig, and followed the 
 shipping-master who still held his pistol ready, 
 however over to the rails, where the receipt was 
 produced and signed. 
 
 Away you go, now, said the mate you and your 
 gun. Get over the side. 
 
 The shipping-master did not answer until he had 
 scrambled down to the waiting tug and around to the 
 far side of her deck-house. There, ready to dodge, he 
 looked up at the mate with a triumphant grin on his 
 shrewd face, and called : 
 
 Say, Mr. Jackson, member the old barque Fair 
 Wind ten years ago, and the ordinary seaman you 
 triced up and skinned alive with a deck-scraper? 
 D you member ? curse you ! Member breakin the 
 same boy s arm with a heaver ? You do, don t you ? 
 I m him. Member me sayin I d get square ? 
 
 He stepped back to avoid the whirling belaying-pin 
 sent by the mate, which, rebounding, only smashed a 
 window in the pilot-house. Then, amid an exchange 
 of blasphemous disapproval between Mr. Jackson and 
 the tug- captain, and derisive jeers from the shipping- 
 master who also averred that Mr. Jackson ought to 
 be shot, but was not worth hanging for the tug 
 gathered in her lines and steamed away. 
 
 Wrathful of soul, Mr. Jackson turned to the men 
 
Where Angels 
 
 on the deck. They had changed their position ; they 
 were now close to the fife-rail at the mainmast, sur 
 rounding Bigpig Monahan (for by their names we 
 must know them), who, with an injured expression of 
 face, was shedding outer garments and voicing his 
 opinion of Mr. Jackson, which the others answered by 
 nods and encouraging words. He had dropped a pair 
 of starched cuffs over a belaying-pin, and was rolling 
 up his shirt-sleeve, showing an arm as large as a 
 small man s leg, and the mate was just about to inter 
 rupt the discourse, when the second mate called his 
 name. Turning, he beheld him beckoning violently 
 from the cabin companion way, and joined him. 
 
 Got your gun, Mr. Jackson ? asked the second 
 officer anxiously, as he drew him within the door. 
 * I started for mine when the shippin -master pulled. 
 I can t make that crowd out ; but they re looking for 
 fight, that s plain. When you were at the rail they 
 were sayin : "Soak him, Bigpig!" " Paste him, 
 Bigpig !" " Put a head on him !" They might be a 
 lot o prize-fighters. 
 
 Mr. Becker was not afraid ; his position and duties 
 forbade it. He was simply human, and confronted 
 with a new problem. 
 
 Don t care a rap what they are, answered the 
 mate, who was sufficiently warmed up to welcome any 
 problem. They ll get fight enough. We ll overhaul 
 their dunnage first for whisky and knives, then turn 
 them to. Come on I m heeled. 
 
 They stepped out and advanced to the capstan 
 amidships, each with a hand in his trousers pocket. 
 
 Pile those bags against the capstan here, and go 
 forrard, ordered the mate, in his most officer-like tone. 
 
 Go to the devil, they answered. What for ? 
 they re our bags, not yours. Who in Sam Hill are 
 you, anyhow? What are you? You talk like a 
 p liceman. 
 
 6 
 
Fear to Tread 
 
 Before this irreverence could be replied to Bigpig 
 Monahan advanced. 
 
 Look here, old horse, he said; I don t know 
 whether you re captain or mate, or owner or cook; 
 and I don t care, either. You had somethin to say 
 bout my eyes just now. Nature made my eyes, and 
 I can t help how they look ; but I don t allow any big 
 bull-heads to make remarks bout em. You re spoilin 
 for somethin . Put up your hands. He threw him 
 self into an aggressive attitude, one mighty fist within 
 six inches of Mr. Jackson s face. 
 
 Go forrard, roared the officer, his gray eyes 
 sparkling forrard, all o you! 
 
 We ll settle this ; then we ll go forrard. There ll 
 be fair play ; these men ll see to that. You ll only 
 have me to handle. Put up. 
 
 Mr. Jackson did not put up. He repeated again 
 his order to go forward, and was struck on the nose 
 not a hard blow, just a preliminary tap, which started 
 blood. He immediately drew his pistol and shot the 
 man, who fell with a groan. 
 
 An expression of shock and horror overspread every 
 face among the crew, and they surged back, away 
 from that murderous pistol. A momentary hesitance 
 followed, then horror gave way to furious rage, and 
 carnage began. Coats and vests were flung off, be- 
 laying-pins and capstan-bars seized ; inarticulate, 
 half-uttered imprecations punctuated by pistol-reports 
 drowned the storm of abuse with which the mates 
 justified the shot, and two distinct bands of men 
 swayed and zigzagged about the deck, the centre of 
 each an officer fighting according to his lights shoot 
 ing as he could between blows of fists and clubs. 
 Then the smoke of battle thinned, and two men with 
 sore heads and bleeding faces retreated painfully and 
 hurriedly to the cabin, followed by snarling maledic 
 tions and threats. 
 
* Where Angels 
 
 It was hardly a victory for either side. The pistols 
 were empty and the fight taken out of the mates for a 
 time ; and on the deck lay three moaning men, while 
 two others clung to the fife-rail, draining blood from 
 limp, hanging arms. But eleven sound and angry 
 men were left and the officers had more ammunition. 
 They entered their rooms, mopped their faces with 
 wet towels, reloaded the firearms, pocketed the re 
 maining cartridges, and returned to the deck, the 
 mate carrying a small ensign. 
 
 We ll run it up to the main, Becker, he said 
 thickly for he suffered ignoring in his excitement 
 the etiquette of the quarter-deck. 
 
 Ay, ay, said the other, equally unmindful of his 
 breeding. Will we go for em again ? The problem 
 had defined itself to Mr. Becker. These men would 
 fight, but not shoot. 
 
 No, no, answered the mate ; not unless they go 
 for us and it s self-defence. They re not sailors they 
 don t know where they are. We don t want to get 
 into trouble. Sailors don t act that way. We ll wait 
 for the captain or the police. Which, interpreted, 
 and plus the slight shade of anxiety showing in his 
 disfigured face, meant that Mr. Jackson was confronted 
 with a new phase of the problem as to how much 
 more unsafe it might be to shoot down, on the deck 
 of a ship, men who did not know where they were, 
 than to shoot down sailors who did. So, while the 
 uninjured men were assisting the wounded five into 
 the forecastle, the police-flag was run up to the main 
 truck, and the two mates retired to the poop to wait 
 and watch. 
 
 In a few moments the eleven men came aft in a 
 body, empty-handed, however, and evidently with no 
 present hostile intention : they had merely come for 
 their clothes. But that dunnage had not been 
 searched ; and in it might be all sorts of dangerous 
 
 8 
 
Fear to Tread 
 
 weapons and equally dangerous whisky, the possession 
 of which could bring an unpleasant solution to the 
 problem. So Mr. Jackson and Mr. Becker levelled 
 their pistols over the poop-rail, and the chief mate 
 roared : Let those things alone let em alone, or 
 we ll drop some more o you! 
 
 The men halted, hesitated, and sullenly returned 
 to the forecastle. 
 
 Guess they ve had enough, said Mr. Becker 
 jubilantly. 
 
 Don t fool yourself. They re not used to blood 
 letting, that s all. If it wasn t for my wife and the 
 kids, I d lower the dinghy and jump her ; and it isn t 
 them I d run from, either. As it is, I ve half a mind 
 to haul down the flag, and let the old man settle it. 
 Steward, he called to a mild-faced man who had been 
 flitting from galley to cabin, unmindful of the dis 
 turbance, go forrard and find out how bad those 
 fellows are hurt. Don t say I sent you, though/ 
 
 The steward obeyed, and returned with the infor 
 mation that two men had broken arms, two flesh- 
 wounds in the legs, and one the big man suffered 
 from a ragged hole through the shoulder. All were 
 stretched out in bedless bunks, unwilling to move. 
 He had been asked numerous questions by the others 
 as to where the ship was bound, who the men were 
 who had shot them, why there was no bedding in the 
 forecastle, the captain s whereabouts, and the possi 
 bility of getting ashore to swear out warrants. He 
 had also been asked for bandages and hot water, which 
 he requested permission to supply, as the wounded 
 men were suffering greatly. This permission was re 
 fused, and the slight very slight nautical flavour to 
 the queries, and the hopeful condition of the stricken 
 ones, decided Mr. Jackson to leave the police flag at 
 the masthead. 
 
 When dinner was served in the cabin, and Mr. Jack- 
 
Where Angels 
 
 son sat down before a savoury roast, leaving Mr. Becker 
 on deck to watch, the steward imparted the additional 
 information that the men forward expected to eat in 
 the cabin. 
 
 Hang it ! he mused ; * they can t be sailormen. 
 
 Then Mr. Becker reached his head down the sky 
 light, and said : Kaisin the devil with the cook, sir ; 
 dragged him out o the galley into the forecastle. 
 
 * Are they coming aft ? 
 
 1 No, sir. 
 
 < All right. Watch out. 
 
 The mate went on eating, and the steward hurried 
 forward to learn the fate of his assistant. He did not 
 return until Mr. Jackson was about to leave the cabin. 
 Then he came, with a wry face and disgust in his soul, 
 complaining that he had been seized, hustled into the 
 forecastle, and compelled, with the Chinese cook, to eat 
 of the salt beef and pea-soup prepared for the men, 
 which lay untouched by them. In spite of his aches 
 and trouble of mind, Mr. Jackson was moved to a 
 feeble grin. 
 
 Takes a sailor or hog to eat it, hey, steward ? he 
 said. 
 
 He relieved Mr. Becker, who ate his dinner hurriedly, 
 as became a good second mate, and the two resumed 
 their watch on the poop, noticing that the cook was 
 jabbering Chinese protest in the galley, and that the 
 men had climbed to the topgallant-forecastle also 
 watching, and occasionally waving futile signals to 
 passing tugs or small sailing-craft. They, too, might 
 have welcomed the police boat. 
 
 But, either because the Almena lay too far over on 
 the Jersey flats for the flag to be noticed, or because 
 harbour police share the fallibility of their shore 
 brethren in being elsewhere when wanted, no shiny 
 black steamer with blue-coated guard appeared to 
 investigate the trouble, and it was well on toward 
 
 10 
 
Fear to Tread 
 
 three o clock before a tug left the beaten track to the 
 eastward and steamed over to the ship. The officers 
 took her lines as she came alongside, and two men 
 climbed the side-ladder one a Sandy Hook pilot, who 
 need not be described, the other the captain of the 
 ship. 
 
 Captain Benson, in manner and appearance, was 
 as superior to the smooth-shaven and manly-looking 
 Mr. Jackson as the latter was to the misformed, hairy, 
 and brutal second mate. With his fashionably-cut 
 clothing, steady blue eye, and refined features, he 
 could have been taken for an easy-going club man or 
 educated army officer rather than the master of a 
 working-craft. Yet there was no lack of seamanly 
 decision in the leap he made from the rail to the 
 deck, or in the tone of his voice as he demanded : 
 
 What s the police flag up for, Mr. Jackson ? 
 
 * Mutiny, sir. They started in to lick me fore 
 turning to, and we ve shot five, but none of them 
 fatally. 
 
 Lower that flag at once ! 
 
 Mr. Becker obeyed this order, and as the flag 
 fluttered down the captain received an account of the 
 crew s misdoing from the mate. He stepped into his 
 cabin, and returning with a double-barrelled shot 
 gun, leaned it against the booby-hatch, and said 
 quietly : Call all hands aft who can come. 
 
 Mr. Jackson delivered the order in a roar, and the 
 eleven men forward, who had been watching the new 
 comers from the forecastle-deck, straggled aft and 
 clustered near the capstan, all of them hatless and 
 coatless, shivering palpably in the keen December air. 
 With no flinching of their eyes, they stared at Captain 
 Benson and the pilot. 
 
 Now, men, said the captain, what s this trouble 
 about ? What s the matter ? 
 
 Are you the captain here? asked a red-haired, 
 ii 
 
c Where Angels 
 
 Eoman-nosed man, as he stepped out of the group. 
 There s matter enough. We ship for a run down to 
 Eio Janeiro and back in a big schooner ; and here 
 we re put aboard a square-rigged craft that we don t 
 know anything about, bound for Callao, and fore 
 we re here ten minutes we re howled at and shot. 
 Bigpig Monahan thinks he s goin to die ; he s bleedin 
 they re all bleedin , like stuck pigs. Sorry Welch 
 and Turkey Twain ha got broken arms, and Jump 
 Black and Ghost O Brien got it in the legs and can t 
 stand up. What kind o work is this, anyhow ? 
 
 That s perfectly right. You were shot for assault 
 ing my officers. Do you call yourselves able seamen, 
 and say you know nothing about square-rigged craft ? 
 
 We re able seamen on the Lakes. We can get along 
 in schooners. That s what we came down for. 
 
 Captain Benson s lips puckered, and he whistled 
 softly. The Lakes, he said Lake sailors. What 
 part of the Lakes ? 
 
 Oswego. We re all union men. 
 
 The captain took a turn or two along the deck, then 
 faced them, and said : Men, I ve been fooled as well 
 as you. I would not have an Oswego sailor aboard 
 my ship much less a whole crew of them. You may 
 know your work up there, but are almost useless here 
 until you learn. Although I paid five dollars a man 
 for you, I d put you ashore and ship a new crew were 
 it not for the fact that five wounded men going out of 
 this ship requires explanations, which would delay my 
 sailing and incur expense to my owners. However, I 
 give you the choice to go to sea and learn your work 
 under the mates, or go to gaol as mutineers ; for to 
 protect my officers I must prosecute you all. 
 
 S pose we do neither ? 
 
 You will probably be shot to the last resisting 
 man either by us or by the harbour police. You are 
 up against the law. 
 
 12 
 
Fear to Tread 5 
 
 They looked at each other with varying expressions 
 on their faces ; then one asked : What about the 
 bunks in the forecastle ? There s no bedding. 
 
 If you failed to bring your own, you will sleep on 
 the bunk-boards without it. 
 
 And that swill the Chinaman cooked at dinner 
 time what about that ? 
 
 You will get the allowance of provisions provided 
 by law no more. And you will eat it in the fore 
 castle. Also, if you have neglected to bring pots, 
 pans, and spoons, you will very likely eat it with your 
 fingers. This is not a Lake vessel, where sailors eat 
 at the cabin table with knives and forks. Decide this 
 matter quickly. 
 
 The captain began pacing the deck, and the listen 
 ing pilot stepped forward, and said kindly : Take my 
 advice, boys, and go along. You re in for it if you 
 don t. 
 
 They thanked him with their eyes for his sympathy, 
 conferred together for a few moments ; then their 
 spokesman called out, * We ll leave it to the fellers 
 forrard, captain ; and forward they trooped. In five 
 minutes they were back, with resolution in their faces. 
 
 We ll go, captain, their leader said. Bigpig 
 can t be moved thout killin him, and says if he lives 
 he ll follow your mate to hell but he ll pay him back ; 
 and the others talk the same ; and we ll stand by 
 em we ll square up this day s work. 
 
 Captain Benson brought his walk to a stop close to 
 the shot-gun. Very well, that is your declaration, 
 he said, his voice dropping the conversational tone he 
 had assumed, and taking on one more in accordance 
 with his position ; now I will deliver mine. We sail 
 at once for Callao and back to an American port of 
 discharge. You know your wages fourteen dollars a 
 month. I am master of this ship, responsible to my 
 owners and the law for the lives of all on board. And 
 
 13 
 
Where Angels 
 
 this responsibility includes the right to take the life 
 of a mutineer. You have been such, but I waive the 
 charge considering your ignorance of salt-water custom 
 and your agreement to start anew. The law defines 
 your allowance of food, but not your duties or your 
 working and sleeping time. That is left to the dis 
 cretion of your captain and officers. Precedent the 
 decision of the Courts has decided the privilege of a 
 captain or officer to punish insolence or lack of respect 
 from a sailor with a blow of a fist or missile ; but, 
 understand me now, a return of the blow makes that 
 man a mutineer, and his prompt killing is justified by 
 the law of the land. Is this plain to you? You are 
 here to answer and obey orders respectfully, adding 
 the word "sir" to each response; you are never to 
 go to windward of an officer, or address him by name 
 without the prefix " Mr."; and you are to work civilly 
 and faithfully, resenting nothing said to you until you 
 are discharged in an American port at the end of the 
 voyage. A failure in this will bring you prompt 
 punishment ; and resentment of this punishment on 
 your part will bring death. Mr. Jackson, he con 
 cluded, turning to his first officer, overhaul their 
 dunnage, turn them to, and man the windlass. 
 
 A man the bald-headed Sinful Peck sprang 
 forward ; but his face was not cherubic now. His 
 blue eyes blazed with emotion much in keeping with 
 his sobriquet ; and, raising his hand, the nervously 
 crooking fingers of which made it almost a fist, he 
 said, in a voice explosively strident : 
 
 That s all right. That s your say. You ve described 
 the condition o nigger slaves, not American voters. 
 And I ll tell you one thing, right here : I m a free-born 
 citizen. I know my work, and can do it, without bein* 
 cursed and abused ; and if you or your mates rub my 
 fur the wrong way, I m goin to claw back ; and if I m 
 shot, you want to shoot sure; for if you don t, I ll 
 
 14 
 
Fear to Tread 
 
 kill that man, if I have to lash my knife to a broom- 
 handle, and prod him through his window when he s 
 asleep. 
 
 But alas for Sinful Peck ! He had barely finished 
 his defiance when he fell like a log under the impact 
 of the big mate s fist ; then, while the pilot, turning 
 his back on the painful scene, walked aft, nodding and 
 shaking his head, and the captain s strong language 
 and levelled shot-gun induced the men to an agitated 
 acquiescence, the two officers kicked and stamped upon 
 the little man until consciousness left him. Before 
 he recovered, he had been ironed to a stanchion in 
 the tween-deck, and entered in the captain s official 
 log for threatening life. And by this time the dunnage 
 had been searched, a few sheath-knives tossed over 
 board, and the remaining ten men were moodily 
 heaving in the chain. 
 
 And so, with a crippled crew of schooner sailors, 
 the square-rigged Almena was towed to sea, smouldering 
 rebellion in one end of her, the power of the law in the 
 other murder in the heart of every man on board. 
 
 PART II 
 
 FIVE months later the Almena lay at an outer mooring- 
 buoy in Callao Eoads, again ready for sea, but waiting. 
 With her at the anchorage were representatives of 
 most of the maritime nations. English ships and 
 barques with painted ports and spider-web braces, high- 
 sided, square-sterned American half-clippers, clumsy, 
 square - bowed Dutchmen, coasting - brigs of any 
 nation, lumber-schooners from Frisco, hide-carriers 
 from Valparaiso, pearl-boats and fishermen, and even 
 a couple of homesick Malay proas from the west, 
 crowded the roadstead ; for the guano trade was 
 booming, and Callao prosperous. Nearly every type 
 of craft known to sailors was there ; but the postman 
 
 15 
 
* Where Angels 
 
 and the policeman of the seas the coastwise mail- 
 steamer and the heavily sparred man-of-war were 
 conspicuously absent. The Pacific Mail boat would 
 not arrive for a week, and the last cruiser had de 
 parted two days before. 
 
 Beyond the faint land and sea breeze, there was 
 no wind nor promise of it for several days ; and 
 Captain Benson, though properly cleared at the 
 Custom-house for New York, was in no hurry, and 
 had taken advantage of the delay to give a dinner to 
 some captains with whom he had fraternized on shore. 
 * I ve a first-rate steward, he had told them, * and I ll 
 treat you well; and I ve the best-trained crew that 
 ever went to sea. Come, all of you, and bring your 
 first officers. I want to give you an object-lesson on 
 the influence of matter over mind that you can t 
 learn in the books. 
 
 So they came, at half-past eleven, in their own 
 ships dinghies, which were sent back with orders to 
 return at nightfall six big-fisted, more or less fat 
 captains, and six big-fisted, beetle-browed, and em 
 barrassed chief mates. As they climbed the gangway 
 they were met and welcomed by Captain Benson, who 
 led them to the poop, the only dry and clean part of 
 the ship ; for the Almena s crew were holy-stoning the 
 main-deck, and as this operation consists in grinding 
 off the oiled surface of the planks with sandstone, the 
 resulting slime of sand, oily wood-pulp, and salt water 
 made walking unpleasant, as well as being very hard 
 on polished shoe-leather. But in this filthy slime the 
 men were on their knees, working the six- inch blocks 
 of stone, technically called bibles, back and forth 
 with about the speed and motion of an energetic 
 woman over a wash-board. 
 
 The mates also were working. With legs clad in 
 long rubber boots, they filled buckets at the deck- 
 pump and scattered water around where needed, 
 
 16 
 
Fear to Tread 
 
 occasionally throwing the whole bucketful at a doubt 
 ful spot on the deck to expose it to criticism. As the 
 visitors lined up against the monkey-rail and looked 
 down on the scene, Mr. Becker launched such a 
 bucketful as only a second mate can, and a man who 
 happened to be in the way was rolled over by the 
 unexpected impact. He gasped a little louder than 
 might have been necessary, and the wasting of the 
 bucketful of water having forced Mr. Becker to make 
 an extra trip to the pump, the officer was duly 
 incensed. 
 
 * Get out o the way, there ! he bawled, eyeing the 
 man sternly. What are you gruntin at? A little 
 water won t hurt you soap neither. 
 
 He went to the pump for more water, and the man 
 crawled back to his holy-stone. It was Bigpig Monahan, 
 hollow-eyed and thin, slow in his voluntary movements ; 
 minus his look of injury, too, as though he might have 
 welcomed the bowling over as a momentary respite for 
 his aching muscles. 
 
 Now and then, when the officers faces were partly 
 turned, a man would stop, rise erect on his knees, and 
 bend backward. A man may work a holy-stone much 
 longer and press it much harder on the deck for these 
 occasional stretchings of contracted tissue; but the 
 two mates chose to ignore this physiological fact, and 
 a moment later a little man, caught in the act by 
 Mr. Jackson, was also rolled over on his back, not by 
 a bucket of water, but by the boot of the mate, who 
 uttered words suitable to the occasion, and held his 
 hand in his pocket until the little man, grinning with 
 rage, had resumed his work. 
 
 * There, said Captain Benson to his guests on the 
 poop, see that little devil ! See him show his teeth ! 
 That is Mr. Sinful Peck. I ve had him in irons with 
 a broken head five times, and the log is full of him. 
 I towed him over the stern running down the trades 
 
 17 c 
 
Where Angels 
 
 to take the cussedness out of him, and if he had not 
 been born for higher things, he d have drowned. He 
 was absolutely unconquerable until I found him telling 
 his beads one time in irons and took them away from 
 him. Now to get an occasional chance at them he is 
 fairly quiet. 
 
 So this is your trained crew, is it, captain ? said a 
 grizzled old skipper of the party. What ails that 
 fellow down in the scuppers with a prayer-book ? He 
 pointed to a man who with one hand was rubbing a 
 small holy- stone in a corner where a large one would 
 not go. 
 
 Ban foul of the big end of a handspike, answered 
 Captain Benson quietly ; he ll carry his arm in splints 
 all the way home, I think. His name is Gunner 
 Meagher. I don t know how they got their names, 
 but they signed them and will answer to them. They 
 are unique. Look at that outlaw down there by the 
 bitts. That is Poop-deck Cahill. Looks like a prize 
 fighter, doesn t he ? But the steward tells me that he 
 was educated for the priesthood, and fell by the way 
 side. That one close to the hatch the one with the 
 red head and hang-dog jib is Seldom Helward. He 
 was shot off the cro -jack yard ; he fell into the lee 
 clew of the cro -jack, so we pulled him in. 
 
 What did he do, captain? asked the grizzled 
 skipper. 
 
 Threw a marlinespike at the mate. 
 
 What made him throw it ? 
 
 Never asked. I suppose he objected to something 
 said to him. 
 
 Ought to ha killed him on the yard. Are they all 
 of a kind? 
 
 Every man. Not one knew the ropes or his place 
 when he shipped. They re schooner sailors from the 
 Lakes, where the captain, if he is civil and respectful 
 to his men, is as good as any of them. They started 
 
 18 
 
Fear to Tread 
 
 to clean us up the first day, but failed, and I went to 
 sea with them. Since then, until lately, it has been 
 war to the knife. I ve set more bones, mended more 
 heads, and plugged more shot-holes on this passage 
 than ever before, and my officers have grown per 
 ceptibly thinner ; but little by little, man by man, 
 we ve broken them in. Still, I admit, it was a job. 
 Why, that same Seldom Helward I ironed and ran up 
 on the fall of a main-buntline. We were rolling before 
 a stiff breeze and sea, and he would swing six feet 
 over each rail and bat against the mast in transit ; 
 but the dog stood it six hours before he stopped 
 cursing us. Then he was unconscious. When he 
 came to in the forecastle, he was ready to begin 
 again ; but they stopped him. They re keeping a log, 
 I learn, and are going to law. Every time a man 
 gets thumped they enter the tragedy, and all sign 
 their names. 
 
 Captain Benson smiled dignifiedly in answer to the 
 outburst of laughter evoked by this, and the men 
 below lifted their haggard, hopeless faces an instant, 
 and looked at the party with eyes that were furtive 
 cat-like. The grinding of the stones prevented their 
 hearing the talk, but they knew that they were being 
 laughed at. 
 
 Never knew a sailor yet, wheezed a portly and 
 asthmatic captain, who wasn t ready to sue the devil 
 and try the court in hell when he s at sea. Trouble 
 is, they never get past the first saloon. 
 
 They got a little law here, resumed Captain Ben 
 son quietly. I put them all in the guardo. The 
 Consul advised it, and committed them for fear they 
 might desert when we lay at the dock. When I took 
 them out to run to the islands, they complained of 
 being starved ; and to tell the truth, they didn t throw 
 their next meal overboard as usual. Nevertheless, a 
 good four weeks board-bill comes out of their wages. 
 
 19 c 2 
 
Where Angels 
 
 I don t think they ll have a big pay-day in New York: 
 the natives cleaned out the forecastle in their absence, 
 and they ll have to draw heavily on my slop-chest. 
 
 * That s where captains have the best of it, said 
 one of the mates jocularly and presumptuously, to 
 judge by his captain s frown ; we hammer em round 
 and wear out their clothes, and it s the captain that 
 sells em new ones. 
 
 Captain, said the grizzled one, who had been 
 scanning the crew intently, I d pay that crew off if 
 I were you ; you ought to ha let ern run, or worked 
 em out and saved their pay. Look at em look at 
 the devils in their eyes. I notice your mates seldom 
 turn their backs on em. I d get rid of em. 
 
 * What ! Just when we have got them under control 
 and useful ? Oh no ! They know their work now, 
 and I d only have to ship a crowd of beach-combers 
 and half-breeds at nearly double pay. Besides, gentle 
 men, we re just a little proud of this crew. They are 
 Lake sailors from Oswego, a little port on Lake 
 Ontario. When I was young I sailed on the Lakes a 
 season or two and became thoroughly acquainted with 
 the aggressive self-respect of that breed. They would 
 rather fight than eat. Their reputation in this regard 
 prevents them getting berths in any Oswego vessels, 
 and even affects the policy of the nation. There s a 
 fort at Oswego, and whenever a company of soldiers 
 anywhere in the country become unmanageable when 
 their officers can t control them outside the guard 
 house the War Department at Washington transfers 
 them to Oswego for the tutelage they will get from 
 the sailors. And they get it ; they are well-behaved, 
 well-licked soldiers when they leave. An Oswego 
 sailor loves a row. He is possessed by the fighting 
 spirit of a bulldog ; he inherits it with his Irish sense 
 of injury ; he sucks it in with his mother s milk, and 
 drinks it in with his whisky ; and when no enemies 
 
 20 
 
Fear to Tread 
 
 are near he will fight his friends. Pay them off? Not 
 much ! I ve taken sixteen of those devils round the 
 Horn, and I ll take them back. I m proud of them. 
 Just look at them, he concluded vivaciously, as he 
 waved his hand at his men * docile and obedient, 
 down on their knees with bibles and prayer-books. 
 
 * And the name o the Lord on their lips, grunted 
 the adviser ; * but not in prayer, I ll bet you. 
 
 Hardly, laughed Captain Benson. Come below, 
 gentlemen ; the steward is ready. 
 
 From lack of facilities the mild-faced and smiling 
 steward could not serve that dinner with the style 
 which it deserved. He would have liked, he explained, 
 as they seated themselves, to bring it on in separate 
 courses ; but one and all disclaimed such frivolity. 
 The dinner was there, and that was enough. And it 
 was a splendid dinner. In front of Captain Benson, 
 at the head of the table, stood a large tureen of 
 smoking terrapin- stew ; next to that a stuffed and 
 baked freshly-caught fish ; and waiting their turn in 
 the centre of the spread, a couple of brace of wild- 
 geese from the inland lakes, brown and glistening, 
 oyster-dressed and savoury. Farther along was a 
 steaming plum-pudding, overhead on a swinging tray 
 a dozen bottles of wine, by the captain s elbow a 
 decanter of yellow fluid, and before each man s plate 
 a couple of glasses of different size. 
 
 We ll start off with an appetizer, gentlemen, said 
 the host, as he passed the decanter to his neighbour. 
 Here is some of the best Dutch courage ever distilled ; 
 try it. 
 
 The decanter went around, each filling his glass 
 and holding it poised ; then, when all were supplied, 
 they drank to the grizzled old captain s toast : A 
 speedy and pleasant passage home for the Almena, 
 and further confusion to her misguided crew. The 
 captain responded gracefully, and began serving the 
 
 21 
 
Where Angels 
 
 stew, which the steward took from him plate by plate, 
 and passed around. 
 
 But, either because thirteen men had sat down to 
 that table, or because the Fates were unusually 
 freakish that day, it was destined that, beyond the 
 initial glass of whisky, not a man present should par 
 take of Captain Benson s dinner. On deck things had 
 been happening, and just as the host had filled the 
 last plate for himself, a wet, bedraggled, dirty little 
 man, his tarry clothing splashed with the slime of the 
 deck, his eyes flaming green, his face expanded to a 
 smile of ferocity, appeared in the forward doorway, 
 holding a cocked revolver which covered them all. 
 Behind him in the passage were other men, equally 
 unkempt, their eyes wide open with excitement and 
 anticipation. 
 
 Don t ye move, yelped the little man, not a man. 
 Keep yer hands out o yer pockets. Put em over yer 
 heads. That s it. You too, cappen. 
 
 They obeyed him (there was death in the green eyes 
 and smile), all but one. Captain Benson sprang to 
 his feet, with a hand in his breast pocket. 
 
 You scoundrels! he cried, as he drew forth a 
 pistol. Leave this The speech was stopped 
 by a report, deafening in the closed-up space ; and 
 Captain Benson fell heavily, his pistol rattling on the 
 floor. 
 
 * Hang me up, will ye ? growled another voice 
 through the smoke. 
 
 In the after-door were more men, the red-haired 
 Seldom Helward in the van, holding a smoking pistol. 
 Get the gun, one o you fellows over there, he called. 
 
 A man stepped in and picked up the pistol, which 
 he cocked. 
 
 One by one, said Seldom, his voice rising to the 
 pitch and timbre of a trumpet-blast, you men walk 
 out the forward companionway with your hands over 
 
 22 
 
Fear to Tread 
 
 your heads. Plug them, Sinful, if two move together, 
 and shoot to kill. 
 
 Taken by surprise, the guests, resolute men though 
 they were, obeyed the command. As each rose to his 
 feet, he was first relieved of a bright revolver, which 
 served to increase the moral front of the enemy, then 
 led out to the booby-hatch, on which lay a newly- 
 broached coil of hambro-line and pile of thole-pins 
 from the boatswain s locker. Here he was searched 
 again for jack-knife or brass knuckles, bound with the 
 hambro-line, gagged with a thole-pin, and marched 
 forward, past the prostrate first mate, who lay quiet 
 in the scuppers, and the erect but agonized second 
 mate, gagged and bound to the fife -rail, to the 
 port forecastle, where he was locked in with the 
 Chinese cook, who, similarly treated, had preceded. 
 The mild-faced steward, weeping now, as much from 
 professional disappointment as from stronger emotion, 
 was questioned sternly, and allowed his freedom on 
 his promise not to sing out or make trouble. Captain 
 Benson was examined, his injury diagnosed as brain- 
 concussion, from the glancing bullet, more or less 
 serious, and dragged out to the scuppers, where he 
 was bound beside his unconscious first officer. Then, 
 leaving them to live or die as their subconsciousness 
 determined, the sixteen mutineers sacrilegiously re- 
 entered the cabin and devoured the dinner. And the 
 appetites they displayed their healthy, hilarious 
 enjoyment of the good things on the table so affected 
 the professional sense of the steward that he ceased 
 his weeping, and even smiled as he waited on them. 
 
 When you have cursed, beaten, and kicked a slave 
 for five months, it is always advisable to watch him 
 for a few seconds after you administer correction, to 
 give him time to realize his condition. And when 
 you have carried a revolver in the right-hand trousers 
 pocket for five months, it is advisable occasionally to 
 
 23 
 
Where Angels 
 
 inspect the cloth of the pocket, to make sure that it 
 is not wearing thin from the chafe of the muzzle. 
 Mr. Jackson had ignored the first rule of conduct, 
 Mr. Becker the second. Mr. Jackson had kicked 
 Sinful Peck once too often ; hut not knowing that it 
 was once too often, had immediately turned his back, 
 and received thereat the sharp corner of a bible on 
 his bump of inhabitiveness, which bump responded 
 in its function ; for Mr. Jackson showed no immediate 
 desire to move from the place where he fell. Beyond 
 binding, he received no further attention from the 
 men. Mr. Becker, on his way to the lazarette in the 
 stern for a bucket of sand to assist in the holy-stoning, 
 had reached the head of the poop steps when this 
 occurred ; and turning at the sound of his superior s 
 fall, had bounded to the main-deck without touching 
 the steps, reaching for his pistol as he landed, only 
 to pinion his fingers in a large hole in the pocket. 
 Wildly he struggled to reclaim his weapon down his 
 trouser-leg, held firmly to his knee by the tight rubber 
 boot ; but he could not reach it. His anxious face 
 betrayed his predicament to the wakening men, and 
 when he looked into Mr. Jackson s revolver, held by 
 Sinful Peck, he submitted to being bound to the fife-rail 
 and gagged with the end of the topgallant-sheet a 
 large rope, which just filled his mouth, and hurt. 
 Then the firearm was recovered, and the descent upon 
 the dinner-party quickly planned and carried out. 
 
 Have you ever seen a kennel of hunting-dogs re 
 leased on a fine day after long confinement how they 
 bark and yelp, chasing one another, biting playfully, 
 rolling and tumbling over and over in sheer joy and 
 healthy appreciation of freedom ? Without the vocal 
 expression of emotion, the conduct of these men after 
 that wine dinner was very similar to that of such 
 emancipated dogs. They waltzed, boxed, wrestled, 
 threw each other about the deck, turned handsprings 
 
 24 
 
Fear to Tread 
 
 and cartwheels those not too weak buffeted, kicked, 
 and clubbed the suffering Mr. Becker, reviled and 
 cursed the unconscious captain and chief officer ; and 
 when tired of this, as children and dogs of play, they 
 turned to their captives for amusement. The second 
 mate was taken from the fife-rail, with hands still 
 bound, and led to the forecastle ; the gags of all and 
 the bonds of the cook were removed, and the fore 
 castle dinner was brought from the galley. This they 
 were invited to eat. There was a piece of salt beef, 
 boiled a little longer than usual on account of the 
 delay; it was black, brown, green, and iridescent in 
 spots ; it was slippery with ptomaines, filthy to the 
 sight, stinking, and nauseating. There were potatoes, 
 two years old, shrivelled before boiling hard and 
 soggy, black, blue, and bitter after the process. And 
 there was the usual weevily hardtack in the bread- 
 barge. 
 
 Protest was useless. The unhappy captives sur 
 rounded that dinner on the forecastle floor (for there 
 was neither table to sit at, nor chests, stools, or boxes 
 to sit on, in the apartment), and, with hands behind 
 their backs and disgust in their faces, masticated and 
 swallowed the morsels which the Chinese cook put to 
 their mouths, while their feelings were further out 
 raged by the hilarity of the men at their backs, and 
 their appetites occasionally jogged into activity by the 
 impact on their heads of a tarry fist or pistol-butt. 
 At last a portly captain began vomiting, and this 
 being contagious, the meal ended; for even the 
 stomachs of the sailors, overcharged as they were 
 with the rich food and wine of the cabin table, were 
 affected by the spectacle. 
 
 There were cool heads in that crowd of mutineers 
 men who thought of consequences : Poop-deck Cahill, 
 square-faced and resolute, but thoughtful of eye and 
 refined of speech; Seldom Helward, who had shot 
 
 25 
 
c Where Angels 
 
 the captain a man whose fiery hair, arching eye 
 brows, Koman nose, and explosive language indicated 
 the daredevil, but whose intelligent though humorous 
 eye and corrugated forehead gave certain signs of 
 repressive study and thought ; and Bigpig Monahan, 
 already described. These three men went into session 
 under the break of the poop, and came to the conclu 
 sion that the Consul who had gaoled them for nothing 
 would hang them for this ; then, calling the rest to 
 the conference as a committee of the whole, they out 
 lined and put to vote a proposition to make sail and 
 go to sea, leaving the fate of their captives for later 
 consideration which was adopted unanimously and 
 with much profanity, the central thought of the latter 
 being an intention to make em finish the holy-stonin 
 for the fun they had laughin at us. Then Bigpig 
 Monahan sneaked below and induced the steward to 
 toss through the storeroom dead-light every bottle of 
 wine and liquor which the ship contained. For 
 Seldom and Poop-deck, he said to him, * are the only 
 men in the gang fit to pick up navigation and git this 
 ship into port again ; but if they git their fill of it, it s 
 all day with you, steward. 
 
 Six second mates on six American ships watched 
 curiously, doubtingly, and at last anxiously, as sails 
 were dropped and yards mastheaded on board the 
 Almena, and as she paid off from the mooring-buoy 
 before the land-breeze and showed them her stern, 
 sent six dinghies, which gave up the pursuit in a few 
 minutes and mustered around the buoy, where a 
 wastefully slipped shot of anchor-chain gave additional 
 evidence that all was not right. But by the time the 
 matter was reported to the authorities ashore, the 
 Almcna, having caught the newly-arrived southerly 
 wind off the Peruvian coast, was hull down on the 
 western horizon. 
 
 26 
 
Fear to Tread 
 
 Four days later, one of the Almena s boats, contain 
 ing twelve men with sore heads, disfigured faces, and 
 clothing ruined by oily wood-pulp ruined particularly 
 about the knees of their trousers came wearily into 
 the roadstead from the open sea, past the shipping, 
 and up to the landing at the Custom-house docks. 
 From here the twelve proceeded to the American 
 Consul, and entered bitter complaint of inhuman treat 
 ment received at the hands of sixteen mutinous sailors 
 on board the Almena treatment so cruel that they 
 had welcomed being turned adrift in an open boat ; 
 whereat the Consul, deploring the absence of man-of- 
 war or steamer to send in pursuit, took their individual 
 affidavits ; and these he sent to San Francisco, from 
 which point the account of the crime, described as 
 piracy, spread to every newspaper in Christendom. 
 
 PART III 
 
 A NORTH-EAST gale off Hatteras : immense gray com 
 bers, five to the mile, charging shoreward, occasionally 
 breaking, again lifting their heads too high in the 
 effort, truncated as by a knife, and the liquid apex 
 shattered to spray ; an expanse of leaden sky showing 
 between the rain- squalls, across which heavy back 
 ground rushed the darker scud and storm-clouds ; a 
 passenger-steamer rolling helplessly in the trough, 
 and a square-rigged vessel, hove to on the port tack, 
 two miles to windward of the steamer, and drifting 
 south toward the storm-centre. This is the picture 
 that the sea-birds saw at daybreak on a September 
 morning, and could the sea-birds have spoken they 
 might have told that the square-rigged craft carried a 
 navigator who had learned that a whirling fury of 
 storm-centre was less to be feared than the deadly 
 Diamond Shoals the outlying guard of Cape Hatteras 
 toward which the steamer was drifting broadside on. 
 
 27 
 
* Where Angels 
 
 Clad in yellow oilskins and sou wester, he stood by 
 the after-companionway, intently examining through 
 a -pair of glasses the wallowing steamer to leeward, 
 barely distinguishable in the half-light and driving 
 spindrift. On the main-deck a half-dozen men paced 
 up and down, sheltered by the weather-rail ; forward, 
 two others walked the deck by the side of the forward 
 house, but never allowed their march to extend past 
 the after-corner ; and at the wheel stood a little man 
 who sheltered a cheerful face under the lee of a big 
 coat-collar, and occasionally peeped out at the navi 
 gator. 
 
 Poop-deck, he shouted above the noise of the wind, 
 take the wheel till I fire up ! 
 
 1 Thought I was exempt from steering, growled the 
 other good-humouredly, as he placed the glasses 
 inside the companionway. 
 
 You re getting too fat and sassy ; steer a little. 
 
 Poop-deck relieved the little man, who descended 
 the cabin stairs, and returned in a few moments 
 smoking a short pipe. He took the wheel, and Poop- 
 deck again examined the steamer with the glasses. 
 
 There goes his ensign, union down, he exclaimed ; 
 he s in trouble. We ll show ours. 
 
 From a flag-locker inside the companionway he 
 drew out the Stars and Stripes, which he ran up to 
 the monkey-gaff. Then he looked again. 
 
 Down goes his ensign ; up goes the code pennant. 
 He wants to signal. Come up here, boys! called 
 Poop-deck ; give me a hand. 
 
 As the six men climbed the steps, he pulled out the 
 corresponding code signal from the locker, and ran it 
 up on the other part of the halyards as the ensign 
 fluttered down. Go down, one of you, he said, and 
 get the signal-book and shipping-list. He ll show his 
 number next. Get ours ready E. L. F. T. 
 
 While a man sprang below for the books named, the 
 28 
 
Fear to Tread 
 
 others hooked together the signal-flags forming the 
 ship s number, and Poop-deck resumed the glasses. 
 
 1 Q. T. F. N., he exclaimed. Look it up. 
 
 The books had arrived, and while one lowered and 
 hoisted again the code signal, which was also the 
 answering pennant, the others pored over the shipping- 
 list. 
 
 Steamer Aldelaran of New York, they said. 
 
 The pennant came down, and the ship s number 
 went up to the gaff. 
 
 H. V., called Poop-deck, as he scanned two flags 
 now flying from the steamer s truck. What does 
 that say ? 
 
 Damaged rudder cannot steer, they answered. 
 
 Pull down the number and show the answering 
 pennant again, said Poop-deck ; and let me see that 
 signal-book. He turned the leaves, studied a page 
 for a moment, then said : Eun up H. V. E. That 
 says, "What do you want?" and that s the nearest 
 thing to it. 
 
 These flags took the place of the answering pennant 
 at the gaff-end, and again Poop- deck watched through 
 the glasses, noting first the showing of the steamer s 
 answering pennant, then the letters K. E. N. 
 
 What does K. E. N. say? he asked. 
 
 They turned the leaves, and answered : I can tow 
 you. 
 
 Tow us ? We re all right ; we don t want a tow. 
 He s crazy. How can he tow us when he can t steer ? 
 exclaimed three or four together. 
 
 He wants to tow us so that he can steer, you 
 blasted fools ! said Poop-deck. He can keep head to 
 sea and go where he likes with a big drag on his 
 stern. 
 
 That s so. Where s he bound you that has 
 knowledge and eddication ? 
 
 Didn t say ; but he s bound for the Diamond 
 29 
 
Where Angels 
 
 Shoals, and he ll fetch up in three hours, if we can t 
 help him. He s close in. 
 
 Tow - line s down the forepeak, said a man. 
 Couldn t get it up in an hour, said another. Yes, 
 we can, said a third. Then, all speaking at once, 
 and each raising his voice to its limit, they argued 
 excitedly : Can t be done. Coil it on the forecastle. 
 Yes, we can. Too much sea. Kun down to 
 wind ard. Line ud part, anyhow. Float a barrel. 
 Shut up ! I tell you, we can. Call the watch. 
 Seldom, yer daft. Needn t get a boat over. Hell, 
 ye can. Call the boys. All hands with heavin - 
 lines. Can t back a topsail in this. Go lay down. 
 Soak yer head, Seldom. Hush! Shut up! 
 Nothin you can t do. Go to the devil! I tell 
 you, we can ; do as I say, and we ll get a line to him, 
 or get his. 
 
 The affirmative speaker, who had also uttered the 
 last declaration, was Seldom Helward. Put me in 
 command, he yelled excitedly, and do what I tell 
 you, and we ll make fast to him. 
 
 No captains here, growled one, while the rest eyed 
 Seldom reprovingly. 
 
 Well, there ought to be; you re all rattled, and 
 don t know any more than to let thousands o dollars 
 slip past you. There s salvage down to looward. 
 
 Salvage ? 
 
 Yes, salvage. Big boat full o passengers and 
 valuable cargo shoals to looward of him can t steer. 
 You poor fools ! what ails you ? 
 
 Foller Seldom, vociferated the little man at the 
 wheel ; * foller Seldom, and ye ll wear stripes. 
 
 Dry up, Sinful. Call the watch. It s near seven 
 bells, anyhow. Let s hear what the rest say. Strike 
 the bell. 
 
 The uproarious howl with which sailors call the 
 watch below was delivered down the cabin stairs, and 
 
 30 
 
Fear to Tread 
 
 soon eight other men came up, rubbing their eyes and 
 grumbling at the premature wakening, while another 
 man came out of the forecastle and joined the two 
 pacing the forward deck. Seldom Helward s pro 
 position was discussed noisily in joint session on the 
 poop, and finally accepted. 
 
 We put you in charge, Seldom, against the rule, 
 said Bigpig Monahan sternly, cause we think you ve 
 some good scheme in your head ; but if you haven t 
 if you make a mess of things just to have a little fun 
 bossin us you ll hear from us. Go ahead, now. 
 You re captain. 
 
 Seldom climbed to the top of the after-house, looked 
 to windward, then to leeward at the rolling steamer, 
 and called out : 
 
 I want more beef at the wheel. Bigpig, take it ; 
 and you, Turkey, stand by with him. Get away from 
 there, Sinful. Give her the upper main topsail, the 
 rest of you. Poop-deck, you stand by the signal- 
 halyards. Ask him if he s got a tow-line ready. 
 
 Protesting angrily at the slight put upon him, 
 Sinful Peck relinquished the wheel, and joined the 
 rest on the main-deck, where they had hurried. Two 
 men went aloft to loose the topsail, and the rest 
 cleared away gear, while Poop-deck examined the 
 signal-book. 
 
 K. S. G. says, "Have a tow-line ready." That 
 ought to do, Seldom, he called. 
 
 *Eun it up, ordered the newly installed captain, 
 and watch his answer. Up went the signal, and as 
 the men on the main-deck were manning the topsail- 
 halyards, Poop-deck made out the answer : 
 
 V. K. C. 
 
 1 That means "All right," Seldom, he said, after 
 inspecting the book. 
 
 * Good enough ; but we ll get our line ready, too. 
 Get down and help em masthead the yard first, then 
 
Where Angels 
 
 take em forrard and coil the tow-line abaft the wind 
 lass. Get all the heavin -lines ready, too. 
 
 Poop-deck obeyed ; and while the main topsail yard 
 slowly arose to place under the efforts of the rest, 
 Seldom himself ran up the answering pennant, and 
 then the repetition of the steamer s last message : 
 All right. This was the final signal displayed be 
 tween the two craft. Both signal-flags were lowered, 
 and for a half-hour Seldom waited, until the others 
 had lifted a nine-inch hawser from the forepeak and 
 coiled it down. Then came his next orders in a con 
 tinuous roar : 
 
 * Three hands aft to the spanker- sheet ! Stand by 
 to slack off and haul in ! Man the braces for wearing 
 ship, the rest o you ! Hard up the wheel ! Check 
 in port main and starboard cro -jack braces ! Shiver 
 the topsail ! Slack off that spanker ! 
 
 Before he had finished the men had reached their 
 posts. The orders were obeyed. The ship paid off, 
 staggered a little in the trough under the right-angle 
 pressure of the gale, swung still farther, and steadied 
 down to a long, rolling motion, dead before the wind, 
 heading for the steamer. Yards were squared in, the 
 spanker hauled aft, staysail trimmed to port, and all 
 hands waited while the ship charged down the two 
 miles of intervening sea. 
 
 Handles like a yacht/ muttered Seldom, as, with 
 brow wrinkled and keen eye flashing above his hooked 
 nose, he conned the steering from his place near the 
 mizzenmast. 
 
 Three men separated themselves from the rest 
 and came aft. They were those who had walked the 
 forward deck. One was tall, broad-shouldered, and 
 smooth-shaven, with a palpable limp ; another, short, 
 broad, and hairy, showed a lamentable absence of 
 front-teeth; and the third, a blue-eyed man, slight 
 and graceful of movement, carried his arm in splints 
 
 32 
 
Fear to Tread 
 
 and sling. This last was in the van as they climbed 
 the poop steps. 
 
 1 1 wish to protest, he said. I am captain of this 
 ship under the law. I protest against this insanity. 
 No boat can live in this sea. No help can be given 
 that steamer. 
 
 And I bear witness to the protest, said the tall 
 man. The short, hairy man might have spoken also, 
 but had no time. 
 
 Get off the poop! yelled Seldom. Go forrard, 
 where you belong. He stood close to the bucket-rack 
 around the skylight. Seizing bucket after bucket, he 
 launched them at his visitors, with the result that the 
 big man was tumbled down the poop steps head first, 
 while the other two followed, right side up, but 
 hurriedly, and bearing some sore spots. Then the 
 rest of the men set upon them, much as a pack 
 of dogs would worry strange cats, and kicked and 
 buffeted them forward. 
 
 There was no time for much amusement of this 
 sort. Yards were braced to port, for the ship was 
 careering down toward the steamer at a ten-knot rate ; 
 and soon black dots on her rail resolved into passengers 
 waving hats and handkerchiefs, and black dots on the 
 boat deck resolved into sailors standing by the end of 
 a hawser which led up from the bitts below on the 
 fantail. And the ship came down, until it might have 
 seemed that Seldom s intention was to ram her. But 
 not so ; when a scant two lengths separated the two 
 craft, he called out : Hard down ! Light up the 
 staysail-sheet and stand by the forebraces ! 
 
 Around the ship came on the crest of a sea ; she 
 sank into the hollow behind, shipped a few dozen 
 tons of water from the next comber, and then lay 
 fairly steady, with her bow meeting the seas, and 
 the huge steamer not a half-length away on the lee 
 quarter. The foretopmast-staysail was flattened, and 
 
 33 D 
 
< Where Angels 
 
 Seldom closely scrutinized the drift and heave of the 
 ship. 
 
 How s your wheel, Bigpig ? he asked. 
 
 Hard down. 
 
 Put it up a little ; keep her in the trough. 
 
 He noted the effect on the ship of this change ; 
 then, as though satisfied, roared out : Let your fore- 
 braces hang, forrard there ! Stand by heavin -lines 
 fore and aft ! Stand by to go ahead with that steamer 
 when we have your line ! The last injunction, 
 delivered through his hands, went down the wind like 
 a thunder-clap, and the officers on the steamer s 
 bridge, vainly trying to make themselves heard against 
 the gale in the same manner, started perceptibly at 
 the impact of sound, and one went to the engine-room 
 speaking-tube. 
 
 Breast to breast the two vessels lifted and fell. At 
 times it seemed that the ship was to be dropped bodily 
 on the deck of the steamer ; at others, her crew looked 
 up a streaked slope of a hundred feet to where the 
 other craft was poised at the crest. Then the steamer 
 would drop, and the next sea would heave the ship 
 toward her. But it was noticeable that every bound 
 brought her nearer to the steamer, and also farther 
 ahead, for her sails were doing their work. 
 
 Kick ahead on board the steamer ! thundered 
 Seldom from his eminence. Go ahead ! Start 
 the waggon, or say your prayers, you blasted 
 idiots ! 
 
 The engines were already turning; but it takes 
 time to overcome three thousand tons of inertia, and 
 before the steamer had forged ahead six feet the ship 
 had lifted above her, and descended her black side 
 with a grinding crash of wood against iron. Fore and 
 main channels on the ship were carried away, leaving 
 all lee rigging slack and useless ; lower braces caught 
 in the steamer s davit-cleats and snapped, but the 
 
 34 
 
Fear to Tread 
 
 sails, held by the weather braces, remained full, and 
 the yards did not swing. The two craft separated 
 with a roll and came together again with more scrap 
 ing and snapping of rigging. Passengers left the rail, 
 dived indoors, and took refuge on the opposite side, 
 where falling blocks and small spars might not reach 
 them. Another leap toward the steamer resulted in 
 the ship s maintop-gallant-mast falling in a zigzag 
 whirl, as the snapping gear aloft impeded it ; and 
 dropping athwart the steamer s funnel, it neatly sent 
 the royal-yard with sail attached down the iron cylinder, 
 where it soon blazed and helped the artificial draught in 
 the stoke-hold. Next came the foretop-gallant-mast, 
 which smashed a couple of boats. Then, as the round 
 black stern of the steamer scraped the lee bow of the 
 ship, jib-guys parted, and the jib-boom itself went, 
 snapping at the bowsprit-cap, with the last bite the 
 ship made at the steamer she was helping. But all 
 through this riot of destruction while passengers 
 screamed and prayed, while officers on the steamer 
 shouted and swore, and Seldom Helward, bellowing 
 insanely, danced up and down on the ship s house, and 
 the hail of wood and iron from aloft threatened their 
 heads men were passing the tow-line. 
 
 It was a seven-inch steel hawser with a Manilla tail, 
 which they had taken to the foretopsail-sheet bitts 
 before the jib-boom had gone. Panting from their 
 exertions, they watched it lift from the water as the 
 steamer ahead paid out with a taut strain ; then, 
 though the crippled spars were in danger of falling 
 and really needed their first attention, they ignored 
 the fact and hurried aft, as one man, to attend to 
 Seldom. 
 
 Encouraged by the objurgations of Bigpig and his 
 assistant, who were steering now after the steamer, 
 they called their late commander down from the house 
 and deposed him in a concert of profane ridicule and 
 
 35 D 2 
 
Where Angels 
 
 abuse, to which he replied in kind. He was struck in 
 the face by the small fist of Sinful Peck, and immedi 
 ately knocked the little man down. Then he was 
 knocked down himself by a larger fist, and, fighting 
 bravely and viciously, became the object of fist-blows 
 and kicks, until, in one of his whirling staggers along 
 the deck, he passed close to the short, broad, hairy 
 man, who yielded to the excitement of the moment 
 and added a blow to Seldom s punishment. It was 
 an unfortunate mistake ; for he took Seldom s place, 
 and the rain of fists and boots descended on him until 
 he fell unconscious. Mr. Helward himself delivered 
 the last quieting blow, and then stood over him with 
 a lurid grin on his bleeding face. 
 
 Got to put down mutiny though the heavens fall, 
 he said painfully. 
 
 Eight you are, Seldom, answered one. Here, 
 Jackson, Benson draw him forrard ; and, Seldom, 
 he added reprovingly, don t you ever try it again. 
 Want to be captain, hey ? You can t ; you don t know 
 enough. You couldn t command my wheelbarrow. 
 Here s three days work to clear up the muss you ve 
 made. 
 
 But in this they spoke more, and less, than the truth. 
 The steamer, going slowly, and steering with a bridle 
 from the tow-line to each quarter, kept the ship s 
 canvas full until her crew had steadied the yards and 
 furled it. They would then have rigged preventer- 
 stays and shrouds on their shaky spars had there 
 been time ; but there was not. An uncanny appear 
 ance of the sea to leeward indicated too close proximity 
 to the shoals, while a blackening of the sky to wind 
 ward told of probable increase of wind and sea. And 
 the steamer waited no longer. With a preliminary 
 blast of her whistle, she hung the weight of the ship 
 on her starboard bridle, gave power to her engines, 
 and rounded to, very slowly, head to sea, while the 
 
 36 
 
Fear to Tread 
 
 men on the ship, who had been carrying the end of 
 the coiled hawser up to the foretop-mast rigging, 
 dropped it and came down hurriedly. 
 
 Eeleased from the wind-pressure on her strong side, 
 which had somewhat steadied her, the ship now rolled 
 more than she had done in the trough, and with every 
 starboard roll were ominous creakings and grindings 
 aloft. At last came a heavier lurch, and both crippled 
 topmasts fell, taking with them the mizzen-topgallant- 
 mast. Luckily, no one was hurt, and they disgustedly 
 cut the wreck adrift, stayed the fore and main masts 
 with the hawser, and, resigning themselves to a large 
 subtraction from their salvage, went to a late break 
 fast a savoury meal of smoking fried ham and 
 potatoes, hot cakes and coffee, served to sixteen in the 
 cabin ; and an unsavoury meal of hardtack-hash, 
 with an infusion of burnt bread-crust, pease, beans, 
 and leather, handed, but not served, to three in the 
 forecastle. 
 
 Three days later, with Sandy Hook lighthouse show 
 ing through the haze ahead, and nothing left of the 
 gale but a rolling ground-swell, the steamer slowed 
 down so that a pilot-boat s dinghy could put a man 
 aboard each craft. And the one who climbed the 
 ship s side was the pilot that had taken her to sea, 
 outward bound, and sympathized with her crew. They 
 surrounded him on the poop and asked for news, 
 while the three men forward looked aft hungrily, as 
 though they would have joined the meeting, but dared 
 not. Instead of giving news, the pilot asked questions, 
 which they answered. 
 
 I knew you d taken charge, boys, he said at length. 
 The whole world knows it, and every man-of-war on 
 the Pacific stations has been looking for you. But 
 they re only looking out there. What brings you 
 round here, dismasted, towing into New York ? 
 
 * That s where the ship s bound, New York. We 
 37 
 
Where Angels 
 
 took her out ; we bring her home. We don t want 
 her don t belong to us. We re law-abidin men. 
 
 Law-abiding men ? asked the amazed pilot. 
 
 You bet. We re goin to prosecute those dogs of 
 ours forrard there to the last limit o the law. We ll 
 show em they can t starve and hammer and shoot 
 free-born Americans just cause they ve got guns in 
 their pockets. 
 
 The pilot looked forward, nodded to one of the 
 three, who beckoned to him, and asked : 
 
 Who d you elect captain ? 
 
 * Nobody, they roared. We d had enough o cap 
 tains. This ship s an unlimited democracy every 
 body just as good as the next man ; that is, all but 
 the dogs. They sleep on the bunk-boards, do as 
 they re told, and eat salt mule and dunderfunk same 
 as we did goin out. 
 
 Did they navigate for you ? Did no one have 
 charge of things ? 
 
 Poop-deck picked up navigation, and we let him off 
 steerin and standin lookout. Then Seldom, here, he 
 wanted to be captain just once, and we let him well, 
 look at our spars. 
 
 Poop-deck ? Which is Poop-deck ? Do you mean 
 to say, asked the pilot when the navigator had been 
 indicated to him, that you brought this ship home 
 on picked-up navigation ? 
 
 * Didn t know anything about it when we left Callao, 
 answered the sailor modestly. The steward knew 
 enough to wind the chronometer until I learned how. 
 We made an offing and steered due south, while I 
 studied the books and charts. It didn t take me long 
 to learn how to take the sun. Then we blundered 
 round the Horn somehow, and before long I could 
 take chronometer sights for the longitude. Of course, 
 I know we went out in four months and used up five to 
 get back ; but a man can t learn the whole thing in 
 
 38 
 
Fear to Tread 
 
 one passage. We lost some time, too, chasing other 
 ships and buying stores ; the cabin grub gave out. 
 
 You bought, I suppose, with Captain Benson s 
 money ? 
 
 S pose it was his. We found it in his desk. But 
 we ve kept account of every cent expended, and bought 
 no grub too good for a white man to eat. 
 
 What dismasted you ? 
 
 They explained the meeting with the steamer and 
 Seldom s misdoing, then requested information about 
 the salvage laws. 
 
 Boys, said the pilot, I m sorry for you. I saw 
 the start of this voyage, and you appear to be decent 
 men. You ll get no salvage; you ll get no wages. 
 You are mutineers and pirates, with no standing in 
 court. Any salvage which the Almena has earned 
 will be paid to her owners and to the three men whom 
 you deprived of command. What you can get the 
 maximum, though I can t say how hard the judge 
 will lay it on is ten years in State s prison, and a 
 fine of 2,000 dollars each. We ll have to stop at 
 quarantine. Take my advice : if you get a chance, 
 lower the boats and skip. 
 
 They laughed at the advice. They were American 
 citizens who respected the law. They had killed no 
 one, robbed no one ; their wages and salvage, inde 
 pendently of insurance liabilities, would pay for the 
 stores bought and the loss of the spars. They had 
 no fear of any court of justice in the land ; for they 
 had only asserted their manhood and repressed in 
 human brutality. 
 
 The pilot went forward, talked awhile with the 
 three, and left them with joyous faces. An hour later 
 he pointed out the Almena s number flying from the 
 masthead of the steamer. 
 
 He s telling on you, boys, he said. He knew you 
 when you helped him, and used you, of course. Your 
 
 39 
 
Where Angels 
 
 reputation s pretty bad on the high seas. See that 
 signal-station ashore there ? Well, they re telegraph 
 ing now that the pirate Almena is coming in. You ll 
 see a police-boat at quarantine. 
 
 He was but partly right. Not only a police-boat, 
 but an outward-bound man-of-war and an incoming 
 revenue cutter escorted the ship to quarantine, where 
 the tow-line was cast off and an anchor dropped. 
 Then, in the persons of a scandalized health-officer, 
 a naval captain, a revenue-marine lieutenant, and a 
 purple-faced sergeant of the steamboat squad, the 
 power of the law was rehabilitated on the Almena s 
 quarter-deck, and the strong hand of the law closed 
 down on her unruly crew. With blank faces, they 
 discarded to shirts, trousers, and boots the slop- 
 chest clothing which belonged to the triumphant 
 Captain Benson, and descended the side to the police- 
 boat, which immediately steamed away. Then a 
 chuckling trio entered the ship s cabin, and ordered 
 the steward to bring them something to eat. 
 
 Now, there is no record either in the reports for 
 that year of the police department, or from any official 
 babbling, or from later yarns spun by the sixteen 
 prisoners, of what really occurred on the deck of that 
 steamer while she was going up the bay. Newspapers 
 of the time gave generous space to speculations written 
 upon the facts discovered by reporters ; but nothing 
 was ever proved. The facts were few. A tug met the 
 steamer in the Narrows about a quarter to twelve that 
 morning, and her captain, on being questioned, de 
 clared that all seemed well with her. The prisoners 
 were grouped forward, guarded by eight officers and 
 a sergeant. A little after twelve o clock a Battery 
 boatman observed her coming, and hied him around 
 to the police dock to have a look at the murderous 
 pirates he had heard about, only to see her heading 
 
 40 
 
Fear to Tread 
 
 up the North Eiver past the Battery. A watchman 
 on the elevator docks at Sixty-third Street observed 
 her charging up the river a little later in the after 
 noon, wondered why, and spoke of it. The captain of 
 the Mary Poiuel, bound up, reported catching her 
 abreast of Yonkers. He had whistled as he passed, 
 and, though no one was in sight, the salute was 
 politely answered. At some time during the night 
 residents of Sing Sing were awakened by a sound of 
 steam blowing off somewhere on the river, and in the 
 morning a couple of fishermen, going out to their 
 pond-nets in the early dawn, found the police-boat 
 grounded on the shoals. On boarding her they had 
 released a pinioned, gagged, and hungry captain in 
 the pilot-house, and an engineer, fireman, and two 
 deck-hands, similarly limited, in the lamp -room. 
 Hearing noises from below, they prised open the nailed 
 doors of the dining-room staircase, and liberated a 
 purple-faced sergeant and eight furious officers, who 
 chased their deliverers into their skiff, and spoke 
 sternly to the working force. 
 
 Among the theories advanced was one, by the editor 
 of a paper in a small Lake Ontario town, to the effect 
 that it made little difference to an Oswego sailor 
 whether he shipped as captain, mate, engineer, sailor, 
 or fireman, and that the officers of the New York 
 Harbour Patrol had only under-estimated the calibre 
 of the men in their charge, leaving them unguarded 
 while they went to dinner. But his paper and town 
 were small and far away ; he could not possibly know 
 anything of the subject, and his opinion obtained little 
 credence. 
 
 Years later, however, he attended, as guest, a meet 
 ing and dinner of the Shipmasters and Pilots Associa 
 tion of Cleveland, Ohio, when a resolution was adopted 
 to petition the city for a harbour police service. 
 Captain Monahan, Captain Helward, Captain Peck 
 
< Where Angels Fear to Tread 
 
 and Captain Cahill, having spoken and voted in the 
 negative, left their seats on the adoption of the pro 
 position, reached a clear spot on the floor, shook 
 hands silently, and then, forming a ring, danced 
 around in a circle (the tails of their coats standing 
 out in horizontal rigidity) until reproved by the Chair. 
 And the editor knew why. 
 
 42 
 
THE BRAIN OF THE BATTLE-SHIP 
 
 BUILD an inverted Harvey-steel box about eight feet 
 high, one hundred and fifty feet long, half as wide, 
 with walls of eighteen-inch thickness, and a roof of 
 three, and you have strong protection against shot and 
 shell. Build up from the ends of the box two steel 
 barbettes with revolving turrets as heavy as your side- 
 walls ; place in each a pair of thirteen-inch rifles ; 
 flank these turrets with four others of eight-inch wall, 
 each holding two eight-inch guns ; these again with 
 four smaller, containing four six-inch guns, and you 
 have power of offence nearly equal to your protection. 
 Loosely speaking, a modern gun-projectile will, at 
 short range, pierce steel equal to itself in cross- 
 section, and from an elevated muzzle will travel as 
 many miles as this cross-section measures in inches. 
 Placed upon an outlying shoal, this box with its guns 
 would make an efficient fortress, but would lack the 
 advantage of being able to move and choose position. 
 Build underneath and each way from the ends of 
 the box a cellular hull to float it ; place within it, and 
 below the box, magazines, boilers and engines ; con 
 struct above, between the turrets, a lighter super 
 structure to hold additional quick -fire guns and 
 torpedo-tubes ; cap the whole with a military mast 
 supporting fighting-tops, and containing an armoured 
 conning-tower in its base ; man and equip, provision 
 and coal the fabric, and you can go to sea, confident 
 
 43 
 
The Brain of 
 
 of your ability to destroy everything that floats, except 
 icebergs and other battle-ships. 
 
 Of these essentials was the first-class coast-defence 
 battle- ship A rgyll. She was of ten thousand tons dis 
 placement, and was propelled by twin screws which 
 received ten thousand horse-power from twin engines 
 placed below the water-line. Three long tubes one 
 fixed in the stem, two movable in the superstructure 
 could launch Whitehead torpedoes, mechanical fish 
 carrying two hundred and twenty pounds of guncotton 
 in their heads, which sought in the water a twenty- 
 foot depth, and hurried where pointed at a thirty-knot 
 rate of speed. Their impact below the water-line was 
 deadly, and only equalled in effect by the work of the 
 rambow, the blow of the ship as a whole the last 
 glorious, suicidal charge on an enemy that had dis 
 mounted the guns, if such could happen. 
 
 Besides her thirteen-, eight-, and six-inch guns, she 
 carried a secondary quick-fire battery of twenty six- 
 pounders, four one-pounders, and four Gatling guns 
 distributed about the superstructure and in the 
 fighting-tops. The peculiar efficacy of this battery 
 lay in its menace to threatening torpedo-boats, and 
 its hostility to range-finders, big-gun sights, and 
 opposing gunners. A torpedo-boat, receiving the full 
 attention of her quick-fire battery, could be disin 
 tegrated and sunk in a yeasty froth raised by the rain 
 of projectiles long before she could come within range 
 of torpedo action ; while a simultaneous discharge of 
 all guns would distribute over seven thousand pounds 
 of metal with foot-tons of energy sufficient to lift the 
 ship herself high out of water. Bristling, glistening 
 and massive, a reservoir of death potential, a centre 
 of radiant destruction, a spitting, chattering, thunder 
 ing epitome of racial hatred, she bore within her steel 
 walls the ever-growing burden of progressive human 
 thought. She was a maker of history, a changer of 
 
 44 
 
the Battle-ship 
 
 boundaries, a friend of young governments; and it 
 chanced that on a fine tropical morning, in company 
 with three armoured cruisers, four protected cruisers, 
 and a fleet of torpedo-boats and destroyers, she went 
 into action. 
 
 She was stripped to bare steel and signal-halyards. 
 Davits, anchors and cables were stowed and secured. 
 Ladders, gratings, stanchions, and all movable deck- 
 fittings were below the water-line. Wooden bulkheads, 
 productive of splinters, were knocked down and dis 
 carded, while all boats, with the plugs out, were over 
 board, riding to a sea-anchor made of oars and small 
 spars. 
 
 The crew was at quarters. Below, in the magazine, 
 handling -rooms, stoke -holds and bunkers, bare- 
 waisted men worked and waited in stifling heat ; for 
 she was under forced draft, and compartments were 
 closed, even though the enemy was still five miles 
 away. The chief and his first assistant engineer 
 watched the main engines in their twin compartments, 
 while the subordinate aids and machinists attended 
 to the dynamos, motors and auxiliary cylinders that 
 worked the turrets, pumps and ammunition-hoists. 
 All boilers were hot and hissing steam ; all fire-pumps 
 were working ; all fire-hose connected and spouting 
 streams of water. Perspiring men with strained faces 
 deluged one another while they waited. 
 
 In the turrets were the gun-crews, six men to a 
 gun, with an officer above in the sighting-hood ; 
 behind the superstructure-ports were the quick-fire 
 men, sailors and marines ; and above all, in the 
 fighting-tops, were the sharp-shooters and men who 
 handled the one -pounders and Gatling guns the 
 easiest-minded of the ship s company, for they could 
 see and breathe. Each division of fighters and 
 workers was overseen by an officer, in some cases by 
 two or three. 
 
 45 
 
The Brain of 
 
 Preparatory work was done, and, excepting the 
 black gang, men were quiescent, but feverish. Few 
 spoke, and then on frivolous things, in tones that 
 were not recognised. Occasionally a man would bring 
 out a piece of paper and write, using for a desk a gun- 
 breech or carriage, a turret-wall, or the deck. An 
 officer in a fighting-top used a telegraph-dial, and a 
 stoker in the depths his shovel, in a chink of light 
 from the furnace. These letters, written in instal 
 ments, were pocketed in confidence that sometime 
 they would be mailed. 
 
 From the captain down each man knew that a large 
 proportion of their number was foredoomed ; but not 
 a consciousness among them could admit the pos 
 sibility of itself being chosen. The great first law 
 forbade it. Senior officers pictured in their minds 
 dead juniors, and thought of extra work after the 
 fight. Junior officers thought of vacancies above 
 them and promotion. Men in the turrets bade mental 
 good-bye to their mates in the superstructure; and 
 these, secure in their five-inch protection, pitied those 
 in the fighting-tops, where, cold logic says, no man 
 may live through a sea-fight. Yet all would have 
 volunteered to fill vacancies aloft. The healthy 
 human mind can postulate suffering, but not its own 
 extinction. 
 
 In a circular apartment in the military mast, pro 
 tected by twelve inches of steel, perforated by vertical 
 and horizontal slits for observation, stood the captain 
 and navigating officer, both in shirt-sleeves ; for this, 
 the conning-tower, was hot. Around the inner walls 
 were the nerve-terminals of the structure the indi 
 cators, telegraph-dials, telephones, push-buttons, and 
 speaking-tubes, which communicated with gun-stations, 
 turrets, steering-room, engine-rooms, and all parts of 
 the ship where men were stationed. In the forward 
 part was a binnacle with small steering-wheel, dis- 
 
the Bat tie- ship 
 
 connected now, for the steering was done by men 
 below the water-line in the stern. A spiral staircase 
 led to the main-deck below, and another to the first 
 fighting -top above, in which staircase were small 
 platforms where a signal -officer and two quarter 
 masters watched through slits the signals from the 
 flag-ship, and answered as directed by the captain 
 below with small flags, which they mastheaded through 
 the hollow within the staircase. 
 
 The chief master-at-arms, bareheaded, climbed into 
 the conning-tower. 
 
 * Captain Blake, what ll we do with Finnegan ? he 
 said. I ve released him from the brig as you ordered ; 
 but Mr. Clarkson won t have him in the turret where 
 he belongs, and no one else wants him around. They 
 even chased him out of the bunkers. He wants to 
 work and fight, but Mr. Clarkson won t place him ; says 
 he washes his hands of Finnegan, and sent me to you. 
 I took him to the bay, but he won t take medicine. 
 
 Captain Blake, stern of face and kindly of eye, drew 
 back from a peep-hole, and asked : What s his con 
 dition ? 
 
 1 Shaky, sir. Sees little spiders and big spiders 
 crawling round his cap-rim. Him and the recording 
 angel knows where he gets it and where he keeps it, 
 sir ; but I don t. I ve watched him for six months. 
 
 Send him to me. 
 
 * Very good, sir. 
 
 The master-at-arms descended, and in a few moments 
 the unwanted Finnegan appeared a gray-bearded, 
 emaciated, bleary-eyed seaman, who brushed imaginary 
 things from his neck and arms, and stammered, as he 
 removed his cap : Keport for duty, sir. 
 
 For duty? answered the captain, eyeing him 
 sternly. For death. You will be allowed the honour 
 able death of an English seaman. You will die in the 
 fighting-top sometime in the next three hours. 
 
 47 
 
The Brain of 
 
 The man shivered, elevated one shoulder, and rubbed 
 his ear against it, but said nothing, while Mr. Dalrymple, 
 the navigating officer, with his eyes at a peep-hole and 
 his ears open to the dialogue, wondered (as he and the 
 whole ship s company had wondered before) what the 
 real relation was between the captain and this wretched, 
 drunken butt of the crew. For the captain s present 
 attitude was a complete departure. Always he had 
 shielded Finnegan from punishment to the extent that 
 naval etiquette would permit. 
 
 I have tried for six years, continued the captain, 
 * to reform you and hold you to the manhood I once 
 knew in you ; but I give you up. You are not fit to 
 live, and will never be fitter to die than this morning, 
 when the chance comes to you to die fighting for your 
 country. But I want you to die fighting. Do you 
 wish to see the surgeon or the chaplain ? 
 
 No, no, no, cappen; one s bad as t other. The 
 chaplam ll pray and the doctor ll fill me up wi 
 bromide, and it just makes me crazy, sir. I m all 
 right, cappen, if I only had a drink. Just give me a 
 drink, cappen the doctor won t and send me down 
 to my station, sir. I know it s only in my head, but 
 I see em plain, all round. You ll give me a drink, 
 cappen, please ; I know you ll give me a drink. 
 
 He brushed his knees gingerly, and stepped suddenly 
 away from an isolated speaking-tube. Captain Blake s 
 stern face softened. His mind went back to his mid 
 shipman days, to a stormy night and a heavy sea, an 
 icy foot-rope, a fall, a plunge, and a cold, hopeless 
 swim toward a shadowy ship hove to against the dark 
 background, until this man s face young, strong, and 
 cheery then appeared behind a white life-buoy ; and 
 he heard again the panting voice of his rescuer : Here 
 ye are, Mr. Blake ; boat s comin . 
 
 He whistled down the speaking-tube, and when 
 answered, called : 
 
the Battle-ship 
 
 Send an opened bottle of whisky into the conning- 
 tower no glasses. 
 
 Thankee, sir. 
 
 The captain resumed his position at the peep-hole, 
 and Finnegan busied himself with his troubles until 
 a Japanese servant appeared with a quart bottle. The 
 captain received it, and the Jap withdrew. 
 
 Help yourself, Finnegan, said the captain, extend 
 ing the bottle ; take a good drink a last one. Fin 
 negan took the equivalent of three. Now, up with 
 you. The captain stood the bottle under the binnacle. 
 Upper top. Eeport to Mr. Bates. 
 
 Cappen, please send me down to the turret where 
 I b long, sir. I m all right now. I don t want to go 
 up there wi the sogers. I m not good at machine- 
 guns. 
 
 * No arguments. Up with you at once. You are 
 good for nothing but to work a lever under the eye of 
 an officer. 
 
 Finnegan saluted silently and turned toward the 
 stairs. 
 
 Finnegan ! 
 
 He turned. The captain extended his hand. Fin 
 negan, he said, I don t forget that night, but you 
 must go ; the eternal fitness of things demands it. 
 Perhaps I ll go, too. Good-bye. 
 
 The two extremes of the ship s company shook 
 hands, and Finnegan ascended. When past the 
 quartermasters and out of hearing, he grumbled and 
 whined : No good, hey ? Thirty years in the service, 
 and sent up here to think of my sins like a sick 
 monkey. Good for nothin but to turn a crank with 
 the sogers. Nice job for an able seaman ! What s the 
 blasted service a-comin to ? 
 
 The two fleets were approaching in similar formation, 
 double column, at about a twelve-knot speed. Leading 
 the left column was the Lancaster, and following came 
 
 49 E 
 
The Brain of 
 
 the Argyll, Beaufort, and Atholl, the last two, like the 
 Lancaster, armoured cruisers of the first class. On 
 the Lancaster s starboard bow was the flag-ship Cum 
 berland, a large unarmoured cruiser, and after her 
 came the Maryborough, Montrose, and Sutherland, un 
 armoured craft like the flag-ship, equally vulnerable 
 to fire, the two columns making a zigzag line, with 
 the heaviest ships to the left, nearest the enemy. 
 
 Heading as they were, the fleets would pass about 
 a mile apart. Led by a black, high-sided monster, 
 the left column of the enemy was made up of four 
 battle-ships of uncouth, foreign design and murderous 
 appearance, while the right column contained the 
 flag-ship and three others, all heavily - armoured 
 cruisers. Flanking each fleet, far to the rear, were 
 torpedo-boats and destroyers. 
 
 We re outclassed, Dalrymple, said Captain Blake. 
 * There are the ships we expected Warsaw, Riga, 
 Kharkov, and Moscow, all of fighting weight, and the 
 Obdorsk, Tobolsk, Saratov and Orenburg. Leaving 
 out the Argyll, we haven t a ship equal to the weakest 
 one there. This fight is the Argyll s. 
 
 And the Argyll is equal to it, captain. All I fear 
 is torpedoes. Of course our ends and superstructure 
 will catch it, and I suppose we ll lose men all the 
 quick-fire men, perhaps. 
 
 Those in the tops, surely, said the captain. Dal 
 rymple, what do you think ? I don t feel right about 
 Finnegan. He belongs in the turret, and I ve 
 sentenced him. Have I the right ? I ve half a mind 
 to call him down. He pushed a button marked For 
 ward turret, and listened at a telephone. 
 
 Mr. Clarkson! he called. I ve put your man 
 Finnegan in the upper top ; but he seems all right 
 now. Can you use him ? 
 
 The answer came : 
 
 No, sir ; I ve filled his place. 
 50 
 
the Battle-ship 
 
 Die, then ! On my soul be it, Finnegan, poor 
 devil ! muttered the captain gloomily. 
 
 His foot struck the bottle under the binnacle, and, 
 on an impulse due to his mood, he picked it up and 
 uncorked it. Mr. Dalrymple observed the action and 
 stepped toward him. 
 
 * Captain, pardon me, he said, if I protest un 
 officially. We are going into action not to dinner. 
 
 The captain s eyes opened wide and shone brighter, 
 while his lip curled. He extended the bottle to the 
 lieutenant. 
 
 The apologies are mine, Mr. Dalrymple, he said. 
 * I forgot your presence. Take a drink. 
 
 The officer forced a smile to his face, and stepped 
 back, shaking his head. Captain Blake swallowed a 
 generous portion of the whisky. 
 
 * The fool ! mused the navigator, as he looked 
 through the peep-hole. * The whole world is watch 
 ing him to-day, and he turns to whisky. That s it, 
 dammit ; that s the bond of sympathy : Blake and 
 Finnegan, Finnegan and Blake dipsomaniacs. Lord, 
 I never thought ! I ve seen him drunker than Finne 
 gan, and if it wasn t for his position and obligations, 
 he d see spiders, too. 
 
 Mr. Dalrymple was not the only one on board who 
 disapproved of * Dutch courage for captains. The 
 Japanese servant, whose station was at the forward- 
 turret ammunition-hoist, reported the service of the 
 whisky to his mates, and from here the news spread 
 as news will in a cellular hull up to turrets and 
 gun-rooms, through speaking-tubes and water-tight 
 bulkheads, down to stoke-hold, engine-rooms and 
 steering-room ; and long before Captain Blake had 
 thought of taking a drink the whole ship s company 
 was commenting, mentally and openly, and more or 
 less profanely, on the story that the old man was 
 getting drunk in the conning-tower. 
 
 51 E 2 
 
The Brain of 
 
 And another piece of news travelled as fast and as 
 far the whereabouts of Finnegan. Mr. Clarkson had 
 incidentally informed his gun-captain, who told the 
 gun-crew; and from them the news went down the 
 hoist and spread. Men swore louder over this ; for 
 though they did not want Finnegan around and in 
 the way, they did not want him to die. Strong 
 natures love those which may be teased ; and not a 
 heart was there but contained a soft spot for the help 
 less, harmless, ever good-natured, drunk and ridiculous 
 Finnegan. 
 
 The bark of an eight -inch gun was heard. Captain 
 Blake saw, through the slits of the conning-tower, a 
 cloud of thinning smoke drifting away from the flag 
 ship. Stepping back, he rang up the forward turret. 
 
 * Mr. Clarkson, he said to the telephone when it 
 answered him, remember aim for the nearest water- 
 line, load and fire, and expect no orders after the first 
 shot. 
 
 Calling up the officer in the after-turret, he repeated 
 the injunction, substituting turrets as the object of 
 assault. He called to the officers at the eight-inch 
 guns that conning-towers and superstructures were to 
 receive their attention ; to those at the six-inch guns 
 to aim solely at turret apertures ; to ensigns and 
 officers of marine in charge of the quick-fire batteries 
 to aim at all holes and men showing, to watch for 
 torpedo-boats, and, like the others, to expect no orders 
 after the first shot. Then, ringing up the round of 
 gun-stations, one after another, he sang out, in a voice 
 to be heard lay all : Fire away ! 
 
 The initial gun had been fired from the flag-ship 
 when the leading ships of the two fleets were nearly 
 abreast. It was followed by broadsides from all, and 
 the action began. The Argyll, rolling slightly from 
 the recoil of her guns, smoked down the line like a 
 thing alive, voicing her message, dealing out death 
 
 52 
 
the Battle-ship 
 
 and receiving it. In this first round of the battle the 
 fire of the eight opposing vessels was directed at her 
 alone. Shells punctured her vulnerable parts, and, 
 exploding inside, killed men and dismounted guns. 
 The groans of the stricken, the crash of steel against 
 steel, the roar of the turret-guns, the rattling chorus 
 of quick-fire rifles, and the drumming of heavy shells 
 against the armour and turrets, made an uproarious 
 riot of sound over which no man above the water-line 
 could lift his voice. But there were some there, 
 besides the dead men who worked through and 
 survived the action who, after the first impact of 
 sound, did not hear it, nor anything else while they 
 lived. They were the men who had neglected stuffing 
 their ears with cotton. 
 
 A fundamental canon of naval tactics is to maintain 
 formation. Another is to keep moving, at the full 
 speed of the slowest ship, not only to disconcert the 
 enemy s fire, but to obtain and hold the most advan 
 tageous position if possible, to flank him. As these 
 rules apply equally well to both sides, it is obvious 
 that two fleets, passing in opposite directions, and 
 each trying to flank the rear of the other, will 
 eventually circle around a common centre ; and if the 
 effort to improve position dominates the effort to evade 
 fire, this circle will narrow until the battle becomes a 
 melee. 
 
 The two lines, a mile apart and each about a mile 
 in length, were squarely abreast in less than five 
 minutes from the time of firing the first gun ; and by 
 now the furious bombardment of the Argyll by eight 
 ships had ceased, for each one found it more profitable 
 to deal with its vis-a-vis. But there was yet a deafen 
 ing racket in the Argyll s conning-tower as small pro 
 jectiles from the rear battle-ship abreast impinged on 
 its steel walls ; and Captain Blake, his ears ringing, 
 his eyes streaming, half stunned by the noise, almost 
 
 53 
 
The Brain of 
 
 blinded and suffocated by the smoke from his forward 
 guns, did not know that his ship had dropped back 
 in the line until the signal-officer descended and 
 shouted in his ear an order signalled from the admiral : 
 Move ahead to position. 
 
 Hang the man who invented conning-towers ! he 
 muttered angrily. Keep a lookout up there, Mr. 
 Wright, he shouted ; I can see very little. 
 
 The officer half saluted, half nodded, and ran up 
 the stair, while Captain Blake rang full speed to 
 the engines. The indicators on the wall showed 
 increased revolution, and he resumed his place at the 
 peep-hole. In a few moments Mr. Wright reappeared 
 with a message from the flag-ship to Starboard helm ; 
 follow ship ahead. 
 
 All right. Watch out up there ; report all you 
 see, he answered. Peeping out, he saw the Lancaster 
 and the Cumberland sheering to port, and he moved 
 the lever of the steering-telegraph. There was no 
 answering ring. Shot away, by George ! he growled. 
 He yelled into a supplementary voice-tube to Star 
 board your wheel slowly. This was not answered, 
 and with his own hands he coupled up the steering- 
 wheel on the binnacle and gave it a turn. It was 
 merely a governor, which admitted steam to the 
 steering-engine, and there was no resisting pressure 
 to guide him ; but a helm indicator showed him the 
 changed position of the rudder, and, on looking 
 ahead, he found that she answered the wheel ; also, 
 on looking to starboard, he found that he had barely 
 escaped collision with the Montrose, whose fire he had 
 been masking, to the scandal of the admiral and the 
 Montrose s officers. 
 
 A little unnerved, Captain Blake called down a 
 seven-inch tube to an apartment in the depths a 
 central station of pipes and wires, to be used as a last 
 resort directing the officer on post to notify the chief 
 
 54 
 
the Battle-ship 
 
 engineer of the damage, and to order the quarter 
 masters in the steering-room to disconnect their wheel 
 and stand by. This was answered, and the captain 
 resumed his lookout, one hand on the wheel. 
 
 Eeduces the captain of the ship to a helmsman, 
 he muttered. 
 
 The navigating officer approached, indicating by 
 gesture and expression his intention of relieving him, 
 but was waved away. 
 
 I want the wheel myself, shouted the captain. 
 Devil take a conning-tower, anyhow ! Keep a look 
 out to port. But say, Dalrymple, send up for Finnegan. 
 I ll not have him killed. Get him down, if he s alive. 
 
 Mr. Dalrymple ascended the stair to pass the word 
 for Finnegan, but did not come down. He had reached 
 the signal-platform, where one quartermaster lay dead, 
 and was transmitting the order to Mr. Wright, when 
 a heavy shell struck the mast, above their heads and 
 below the lower top, exploded inside, killed the three 
 men on the platform, and hurled the upper part of 
 the mast, with both tops full of dead men and living, 
 high in air. The conning-tower was filled with gas 
 and smoke ; but Captain Blake, though burned and 
 nearly stripped of clothing by the blast of flames, 
 was uninjured by the flying fragments of the shell. 
 Smarting, gasping and choking, fully aware of the 
 complete destruction above, his mind dwelt for an 
 instant on the man who had once saved his life, whom 
 he had sentenced to death. He looked up the hollow 
 within the wrecked staircase, but saw nothing. 
 
 Mr. Clarkson, however, happened to be looking 
 through an upper peep-hole in the sighting-hood at 
 this moment, and saw the upper half of the mast 
 lift and turn; also, dimly through the smoke, he 
 noticed, among the dozen of men hurled from the 
 tops, the blue-shirted figure of one whom he knew to 
 be Finnegan, clinging at arm s-length in mid-air to a 
 
 55 
 
The Brain of 
 
 Gatling gun, which had been torn from its fastenings. 
 Then the smoke thickened and shut out the view ; but 
 a moment later he heard the rattling crash of the mast 
 as it fell upon the superstructure beneath. 
 
 * The whole mast s gone, boys, he shouted to his 
 crew both tops. Finnegan s done for. 
 
 And the story of Finnegan s finish went down the 
 hoist and through the ship, everywhere received with 
 momentary sorrow, and increased malediction on the 
 drunken captain, who thought no more and knew 
 no more of a blue- jacket than to masthead him with , 
 the marines. 
 
 The tactics of both admirals being the same, and 
 the speed of both fleets that of their slowest ships 
 being equal, they turned, and, like two serpents pur 
 suing each other s tails, charged around in a circle, 
 each ship firing at the nearest or most important 
 enemy. This fire was destructive. A ship a mile 
 distant is a point-blank target for modern guns and 
 gunners, and everything protected by less than eight 
 inches of steel suffered. The Argyll had lost her 
 military mast and most of her secondary guns. The 
 flag- ship Cumberland, raked and riddled by nine- and 
 eleven-inch shells, surrounded herself with steam 
 from punctured boilers shortly after the signal to 
 turn, and swung drunkenly out of line, her boilers 
 roaring, her heavy guns barking. A long, black 
 thing, low down behind the wave created by its rush, 
 darted by her, unstruck by the shells sent by the 
 flag-ship and the Marlborough. A larger thing, mouse- 
 coloured and nearly hidden by a larger wave, was 
 coming from the opposite direction, spitting one- 
 pound shot at the rate of sixty a minute, but without 
 present avail ; for a spindle-shaped object left the 
 deck of the first when squarely abreast of the help 
 less flag-ship, diving beneath the surface ; and the 
 existence and position of this object were henceforth 
 
 56 
 
the Battle-ship 
 
 indicated only by a line of bubbles, a darting streak of 
 froth, travelling toward the Cumberland. In less than 
 a minute it had reached her. The sea alongside arose 
 in a mound, and she seemed to lean away from it ; 
 then the mound burst, and out of it, and spouting from 
 funnels, ventilators and ports, came a dense cloud of 
 smoke, which mingled with the steam and hid her 
 from view, while a dull, booming roar, barely dis 
 tinguishable in the noise of battle, came across the 
 water. When the cloud thinned there was nothing to 
 be seen but heads of swimming men, who swam for a 
 time and sank. The flag-ship had been torpedoed. 
 
 But the torpedo-boat followed her. Pursued by the 
 mouse - coloured destroyer, she circled around and 
 headed back in the endeavour to reach her consorts ; 
 but she had not time. Little by little the avenger 
 crept up, pounding her with small shot and shell, 
 until, leaking from a hundred wounds, she settled 
 beneath the surface. She had fulfilled her mission ; 
 she was designed to strike once and die. 
 
 No armoured cruiser may withstand the fire of a 
 battle-ship. The Lancaster, leading the Argyll, re 
 ceived through her eight-inch water-line belt the 
 heavy shot and shell of the Moscow and Orenburg. 
 Nine- and eleven-inch shell fire, sent by Canet and 
 Hontoria guns, makes short work of eight -inch 
 armour, and the doomed Lancaster settled and dis 
 appeared, her crew yelling, her screws turning, and 
 her guns firing until the water swamped her. The 
 following Argyll scraped her funnels and masts as 
 she passed over. 
 
 Eight hundred feet back in the line was the Beau 
 fort, armoured like the Lancaster. Her ending was 
 dramatic and suicidal. Drilled through and through 
 by the fire of the Riga, she fought and suffered until 
 the Lancaster foundered ; then, with all guns out of 
 action, but with still intact engine-power, she left the 
 
 57 
 
The Brain of 
 
 line, not to run, but to ram. The circle was narrow 
 ing, but she had fully four minutes to steam before 
 she could reach the opposite side and intercept her 
 slayer. And in this short time she was reduced to 
 scrap-iron by the concentrated fire of the Warsaw, 
 Riga and Kharkov. Every shot from every gun on the 
 three battle-ships struck the unlucky cruiser ; but in 
 the face of the storm of steel she went on, exhaling 
 through fissures and ports smoke from bursting shells 
 and steam from broken pipes. Half-way across, an 
 almost solid belching upward and outward of white 
 steam indicated a stricken boiler, and from now on 
 her progress was slow. She was visibly lower in the 
 water and rolled heavily. Soon another cloud arose 
 from her, her headway decreased, and she came to 
 a stop two hundred yards on the port bow of the 
 onrushing Riga, whose crew yelled derisively, whose 
 quick-fire guns still punished her. 
 
 But the yells suddenly ceased, and the gunners 
 changed their aim. A small thing had left the 
 nearly submerged; tube in the cruiser s stem, and the 
 gunners were now firing at a darting line of bubbles, 
 obliterating the target for a moment with the churning 
 of the water, only to see the frothy streak within their 
 range, coming on at locomotive speed. They aimed 
 ahead ; two five-inch guns added their clamour, and 
 even a Hontoria turret-gun voiced its roar and sent 
 its messenger. But the bubbles would not stop ; they 
 entered the bow wave of the battle-ship, and a second 
 later the great floating fort separated into two parts, 
 with a crackling thunder of sound and an outburst of 
 flame and smoke which came of nothing less than an 
 exploded magazine. The two halves rolled far to 
 starboard, then to port, shivered, settled, turned com 
 pletely over, and sank in a turmoil of bursting steam 
 and air-bubbles. Three minutes later the Beaufort 
 lifted her stern and dived gently after her victim, still 
 
 58 
 
the Battle-ship 
 
 groaning hoarsely from her punctured iron lungs. In 
 her death-agony she had given birth to a child more 
 terrible than a battle-ship. 
 
 The rear ship of the inner column, the Atlioll, was 
 officially an armoured cruiser, but possessed none of 
 the attributes of the cruiser class. She was the 
 laggard of the fleet, and her heaviest guns were of 
 six-inch calibre ; but, being designed for a battle- ship, 
 she carried this temporary battery behind sixteen 
 inches of steel, and had maintained her integrity, 
 taking harder blows than she could give. With the 
 going down of the Beaufort she took a position astern 
 of the Sutherland, and the double line of battle was 
 reduced to a single line ; for the Argyll had left the 
 column when the flag-ship sank. 
 
 And this is why the overmatched, battered, and all 
 but demoralized cruisers received no more attention 
 from the enemy ; it were wiser to deal with the Argyll. 
 The Saratov, blazing fiercely from the effects of a well- 
 planted shell, had drawn out of line, the better to 
 deal with her trouble. Her place in the line, and that 
 of the sunken Riga, were filled by the following ships 
 drawing ahead ; but the fleet still held to double 
 column, and into the lanes between the lines the 
 Argyll was coming at sixteen knots, breathing flame, 
 vomiting steel, delivering destruction and death. 
 
 She had rounded the Moscow s stern, raking her as 
 she came, and sending armour-piercing shells through 
 her citadel. Some exploded on impact, some inside ; 
 all did work. An eight- inch projectile entered the 
 after turret-port, and silenced the gun and gun-crew 
 for ever. Before the Argyll was abeam, the Moscow 
 had ceased firing. Boiling and smoking, her crew 
 decimated, her guns disabled and steering-gear carried 
 away, she swung out of line ; and the appearance in 
 his field of vision of several rushing waves with short 
 smoke-stacks behind, and the supplementary pelting 
 
 59 
 
The Brain of 
 
 his ship was now receiving from the Marlborough, 
 decided her commander to lower his flag. 
 
 On the starboard bow of the Argyll was the armoured 
 cruiser Orenburg. Her fire, hot and true, ceased on 
 the explosion of a large shell at her water-line, and 
 she swung out of the fight, silent but for the roar of 
 escaping steam, heeled heavily to port, and sank in 
 ten minutes, her ensigns flying to the last. Mr. Clark- 
 son rejoiced with his gun- crew. He had sent the 
 shell. 
 
 On stormed the Argyll. Her next adversary was 
 the Kharkov, a battleship nearly equal in guns and 
 armour to herself, but not quite by an inch. And 
 that inch cost her the fight. With her main turrets 
 damaged, her superstructure, secondary guns, and 
 torpedo-tubes shot away, she yielded to fate, and, 
 while the Argyll passed on, hauled down her ensigns 
 at the request of a torpedo-boat. 
 
 Ahead and to starboard was the cruiser Tobolsk, 
 leaving the neighbourhood as fast as her twin-screws 
 could push her. Her end was in sight ; in her wake 
 were two gray destroyers, and behind, charging across 
 the broken formation, was the fleet Marlborough. The 
 Argyll ignored the Tobolsk ; for slowing down to await 
 her coming was the black and high-sided Warsaiv, the 
 monster of the fleet, bristling with guns, sombre, and 
 ominous in her silence. 
 
 Ahead of her, and turning to port, was the flagship 
 Obdorsk, also slowed down ; but she promised to be 
 fully occupied with the Atholl, Sutherland, and Mont- 
 rose, who had wheeled in their tracks, no longer 
 obliged to traverse a circle to reach an enemy. 
 
 On rushed the Argyll, and when nearly up to the 
 Warsaic, the latter gave steam to her engines. Breast 
 to breast the gladiators charged across the sea, roar 
 ing, flaming, and smoking. A torpedo left the side of 
 the Warsaw, pointed diagonally ahead, to intercept 
 
 60 
 
the Battle-ship 
 
 the Argyll. But it was badly aimed, and the hissing 
 bubbles passed under her stern. Before another could 
 be discharged, the torpedo-room, located by the Argyll s 
 officers, was enlarged to the size of three by the suc 
 ceeding bombardment and the explosion of the re 
 maining torpedoes. 
 
 Twelve-inch armour cannot keep out thirteen-inch 
 armour-piercing shell, and torpedoes cannot explode 
 on board without damage to machinery, steering-gear, 
 and vital connections. The Warsaw yawed, slackened 
 speed, and came to a stop, her turret-guns still speak 
 ing, but the secondary guns silent. The A rgyll circled 
 around her, sending her thirteen-, eight-, and six-inch 
 shells into her victim with almost muzzle energy. 
 The two military masts of the Warsaw sank, and dead 
 men in the fighting-tops were flung overboard. The 
 forward turret seemed to explode ; smoke and flame 
 shot out of the ports, and its top lifted and fell. Then 
 the Argyll turned and headed straight for her side. 
 
 There was little need of gun-fire now ; but the 
 forward-turret guns belched once during the charge, 
 and the more quickly handled eight- and six-inch 
 rifles stormed away while there was no time to reload. 
 Smoking, rolling, and barking ten thousand tons of 
 inertia behind a solid steel knife she pounced on her 
 now silent enemy. There was a crunching sound, 
 muffled and continuous. The speed of the Argyll 
 seemed hardly checked. In went the ram farther and 
 farther, until the slanting edge began cutting above 
 the water. Then the Warsaw, heeled far over by the 
 impact, rolled back, and the knife cut upward. The 
 smooth plates at the Argyll s water-line wrinkled like 
 paper, and the pile of shattered steel which had once 
 been her forward deck and bulkheads was shaken up 
 and adjusted to new positions ; but not until her nose 
 was actually buried in the wound until the Warsaw 
 was cut half in two did the reversed engines begin to 
 
 61 
 
The Brain of 
 
 work. The Argyll backed out, exposing for a moment 
 a hole like a cavern s mouth ; then the stricken ship 
 rolled heavily toward her, burying the sore, and, 
 humming and buzzing with exhausting steam and 
 rushing air, settled rapidly and sank, while out from 
 ports, doors, and nearly vertical hatches came her 
 crew, as many as could. They sprang overboard and 
 swam, and those that reached the now stationary 
 Argyll were rescued ; for a cry had gone through the 
 latter from the central station in her depths, All 
 hands on deck to save life ! Bring ladders, life-buoys, 
 and ropes ends ! 
 
 The battle was ended ; for, with the ramming of the 
 Warsaic, the Obdorsk struck to the three ships circling 
 round her. They had suffered, but the battle-ship 
 Argyll was reduced to a monitor. Her superstructure 
 and the bow and stern above the water-line were 
 shattered to a shapeless tangle of steel. What was 
 left of her funnels and ventilators resembled nutmeg- 
 graters, and she was perceptibly down by the head ; 
 for her bow leaked through its wrinkled plates, and 
 the forward compartment below the protective deck 
 was filled. Yet she could still fight in smooth water. 
 Her box-like citadel was intact and standing naked 
 out of the wreck, scarred and dented, but uninjured, 
 were the turrets, ammunition-hoists, and conning- 
 tower. In the latter was the brain of the ship, that 
 had fought her to victory, and then sent the call to 
 her crew to save the lives of their enemies. 
 
 Two men met on a level spot amidships and clasped 
 hands. Both were bare-waisted and grimy, and one 
 showed red as a lobster under the stains. He was the 
 chief engineer. 
 
 We ve won, Clarkson, he said. We ve won the 
 hottest fight that history can tell of won it ourselves 
 but he ll get the credit. 
 
 And he s drunk as a lord drunk through it all. 
 62 
 
the Battle-ship 
 
 What did he ram for ? Why did he send two millions 
 of prize-money to the bottom ? Lord ! Lord ! 
 It s enough to make a man swear at his mother. We 
 had her licked. Why did he ram ? 
 
 Because he was drunk, that s why. He rang 
 seven bells to me along at the first of the muss, and 
 then sent word through young Felton that he wanted 
 full speed. Dammit, he already had it, every pound 
 of it. And he gave me no signal to reverse when we 
 struck ; if it wasn t for luck and a kind Providence, 
 we d have followed the Warsaw. I barely got her 
 over. Here, Mr. Felton, you were in the central, 
 were you not? How d the old man appear to be 
 making it ? Were his orders intelligible ? 
 
 A young man had joined them, hot, breathing 
 hard, and unclothed. 
 
 1 Not always, sir ; I had to ask him often to repeat, 
 and then I sometimes got another order. He kept me 
 busy from the first, when he sent the torpedoes over 
 board. 
 
 * The torpedoes ! exclaimed Mr. Clarkson. Did we 
 use them ? I didn t know it. 
 
 * He was afraid they d explode on board, sir, he 
 said. That was just after we took full speed. 
 
 And just before he got too full to be afraid of any 
 thing, muttered the lieutenant. Why don t he come 
 out of that ? He glanced toward the conning-tower. 
 Other officers had joined them. 
 
 * We ll investigate/ said Mr. Clarkson. 
 
 The door on the level of the main-deck leading into 
 the mast was found to be wedged fast by the blow of 
 a projectile. Men, naked and black, sprawled about 
 the wreckage breathing fresh air, were ordered to get 
 up and to rig a ladder outside. They did so, and 
 Mr. Clarkson ascended to the ragged end of the 
 hollow stump and looked down. Standing at the 
 wheel, steering the drifting ship with one hand and 
 
 63 
 
The Brain of 
 
 holding an empty bottle in the other, was a man with 
 torn clothing and bloody face. In spite of the dis 
 figurement Mr. Clarkson knew him. Jammed into 
 the narrow staircase leading below was the body of a 
 man partly hidden by a Gatling gun, the lever of 
 which had pierced the forehead. 
 
 Finnegan ! yelled the officer, how d you get there ? 
 The man at the wheel lifted a bleary eye and 
 blinked ; then, unsteadily touching his forehead, 
 answered : Fe dow -shtairs, shir. 
 
 * Come out of that ! On deck, there ! Take the 
 wheel, one hand, and stand by it ! Mr. Clarkson 
 descended to the others with a serious look on his 
 grimy face, and a sailor climbed the ladder and went 
 down the mast. 
 
 * Gentlemen, said the first lieutenant impressively, 
 we were mistaken, and we wronged Captain Blake. 
 He is dead. He died at the beginning. He lies 
 under a Gatling gun in the bottom of the tower. I 
 saw Finnegan hanging to that gun, whirling around 
 it, when the mast blew up. It is all plain now. 
 Finnegan and the gun fell into the tower. Finnegan 
 may have struck the stairs and rolled down, but the 
 gun went down the hollow within and killed the cap 
 tain. We have been steered and commanded by a 
 drunken man but it was Finnegan. 
 
 Finnegan scrambled painfully down the ladder. 
 He staggered, stumbled, and fell in a heap. 
 
 Rise up, said Mr. Clarkson, as they surrounded 
 him ; rise up, Daniel Drake Nelson Farragut Finne 
 gan. You are small potatoes and few in the hill ; you 
 are shamefully drunk, and your nose bleeds ; you are 
 stricken with Spanish mildew, and you smell vilely 
 but you are immortal. You have been a disgrace to 
 the service, but Fate in her gentle irony has redeemed 
 you, permitting you, in one brief moment of your 
 misspent life, to save to your country the command 
 
 64 
 
the Battle-ship 
 
 of the seas to guide, with your subconscious intelli 
 gence, the finest battle-ship the science of the world 
 has constructed to glorious victory, through the 
 fiercest sea-fight the world has known. Eise up, 
 Daniel, and see the surgeon. 
 But Finnegan only snored. 
 
THE WIGWAG MESSAGE 
 
 As eight bells sounded, Captain Bacon and Mr. Knapp 
 came up from breakfast, and Mr. Hansen, the squat 
 and square-built second mate, immediately went down. 
 The deck was still wet from the morning washing 
 down, and forward the watch below were emerging 
 from the forecastle to relieve the other half, who were 
 coiling loosely over the top of the forward house a 
 heavy wet hawser used in towing out the evening 
 before. They were doing it properly, and as no 
 present supervision was necessary, the first mate re 
 mained on the poop for a few moments further con 
 versation with the captain. 
 
 * Poor crew, cap n, he said, as, picking his teeth 
 with the end of a match, he scanned the men for 
 ward. It ll take me a month to lick em into shape. 
 
 To judge by his physique, a month was a generous 
 limit for such an operation. He was a giant, with a 
 giant s fist and foot, red-haired and bearded, and of 
 sinister countenance. But he was no more formidable 
 in appearance than his captain, who was equally big, 
 but smooth-shaven, and showing the square jaw and 
 beetling brows of a born fighter. 
 
 * Are the two drunks awake yet ? asked the latter. 
 
 Not at four o clock, sir, answered the mate. 
 Mr. Hansen couldn t get em out. I ll soon turn em 
 to. 
 
 66 
 
The Wigwag Message 
 
 As he spoke, two men appeared from around the 
 corner of the forward house, and came aft. They 
 were young men, between twenty-five and thirty, with 
 intelligent, sunburnt faces. One was slight of figure, 
 with the refinement of thought and study in his 
 features ; the other, heavier of mould and muscular, 
 though equally quick in his movements, had that in 
 his dark eyes which said plainly that he was wont to 
 supplement the work of his hands with the work of 
 his brain. Both were dressed in the tar-stained and 
 grimy rags of the merchant sailor at sea ; and they 
 walked the wet and unsteady deck with no absence of 
 sea-legs, climbed the poop steps to leeward, as was 
 proper, and approached the captain and first mate at 
 the weather-rail. The heavier man touched his cap, 
 but the other man merely inclined his head, and, 
 smiling frankly and fearlessly from one face to the 
 other, said, in a pleasant, evenly modulated voice : 
 
 Good-morning ! I presume that one of you is the 
 captain ? 
 
 I m the captain. What do you want ? was the 
 gruff response. 
 
 Captain, I believe that the etiquette of the mer 
 chant service requires that when a man is shanghaied 
 on board an outward-bound ship he remains silent, 
 does what is told him cheerfully, and submits to fate 
 until the passage ends ; but we cannot bring our 
 selves to do so. We were struck down in a dark spot 
 last night sandbagged, I should say and we do not 
 know what happened afterward, though we must have 
 been kept unconscious with chloroform or some such 
 drug. We wakened this morning in your forecastle, 
 dressed in these clothes, and robbed of everything we 
 had with us. 
 
 * Where were you slugged ? 
 
 In Cherry Street. The bridge cars were not run 
 ning, so we crossed from Brooklyn by the Catherine 
 
 67 F 2 
 
The Wigwag Message 
 
 Ferry, and foolishly took a short cut to the elevated 
 station. 
 
 Well, what of it? 
 
 What why why, captain, that you will kindly 
 put us aboard the first inbound craft we meet. 
 
 Not much, I won t! answered the captain 
 decidedly. You belong to my crew. I paid for 
 twenty men, and you two and two others skipped at 
 the dock. I had to wait all day in the Horseshoe. 
 You two were caught dead drunk last night, and came 
 down with the tug. That s what the runners said, 
 and that s all I know about it. Go forrard ! 
 
 Do you mean, captain 
 
 Go forrard where you belong. Mr. Knapp, set 
 these men to work. 
 
 Captain Bacon turned his back on them, and walked 
 away. 
 
 Get off the poop, snarled the mate. Forrard wi 
 you both ! 
 
 Captain, I advise you to reconsider 
 
 The words were stopped by a blow of the mate s fist, 
 and the speaker fell to the deck. Then a hoarse growl 
 of horror and rage came from his companion ; and 
 Captain Bacon turned, to see him dancing around the 
 first officer with the skill and agility of a professional 
 boxer, planting vicious blows on his hairy face and 
 neck. 
 
 Stop this ! roared the captain, as his right hand 
 sought the pocket of his coat. Stop it, I say ! 
 Mr. Hansen, he called down the skylight, on deck 
 here ! 
 
 The huge mate was getting the worst of the un 
 expected battle, and Captain Bacon approached 
 cautiously. His right hand had come out of his 
 pocket, armed with large brass knuckles ; but before 
 he could use them his dazed and astonished first 
 officer went down under the rain of blows. It was 
 
 68 
 
The Wigwag Message 
 
 then, while the victor waited for him to rise, that the 
 brass knuckles impacted on his head, and he, too, 
 went down, to lie quiet where he fell. The other 
 young man had arisen by this time, somewhat shocked 
 and unsteady in movement, and was coming bravely 
 toward the captain ; but before he could reach him 
 his arms were pinioned from behind by Mr. Hansen, 
 who had run up the poop steps. 
 
 What is dis, onnyway? he asked. Mudiny, I 
 dink. 
 
 Let go! said the other furiously. You shall 
 suffer for this, you scoundrels ! Let go my arms ! 
 He struggled wildly ; but Mr. Hansen was strong. 
 
 Mr. Knapp had regained his feet and a few of his 
 faculties. His conqueror was senseless on the deck, 
 but this other mutineer was still active in rebellion. 
 So, while the approving captain looked on in brass- 
 knuckles, he sprang forward and struck, with strength 
 born of his rage and humiliation, again and again at 
 the man helpless in the arms of Mr. Hansen, until his 
 battered head sank supinely backward, and he struggled 
 no more. Then Mr. Hansen dropped him. 
 
 Lay aft, here, a couple o hands! thundered the 
 captain from the break of the poop, and two awe 
 struck men obeyed him. The whole crew had watched 
 the fracas forward, and the man at the wheel had 
 looked unspeakable things ; but no hand or voice had 
 been raised in protest. One at a time they carried 
 the unconscious men to the forecastle ; then the crew 
 mustered aft at another thundering summons, and 
 listened to a forceful speech by Captain Bacon, de 
 livered in quick, incisive epigrams, to the effect that if 
 a man aboard his ship whether he believed himself 
 shipped or shanghaied, a sailor, a priest, a policeman, 
 or a dry-nurse showed the slightest hesitation at 
 obeying orders, or the slightest resentment at what 
 was said to him, he would be punished with fists, 
 
 69 
 
The Wigwag Message 
 
 brass knuckles, belaying-pins, or handspikes the 
 officers were there for that purpose and if he per 
 sisted, he would be shot like a mad dog. They could 
 go forward. 
 
 They went, and while the watch on deck, under the 
 supervision of the second mate, finished coiling down 
 the tow-line, the watch below finished their breakfast, 
 and when the stricken ones had recovered conscious 
 ness, advised them, unsympathetically, to submit and 
 make the best of it until the ship reached Hong-Kong, 
 where they could all * jump her and get better 
 berths. 
 
 For if ye don t, concluded an Irishman, I take it 
 ye ll die, an take sam wan of us wid ye ; fur this is 
 an American ship, where the mates are hired fur the 
 bigness o their fists an the hardness o their hearts. 
 Look pleasant, now, the pair o ye ; and wan o ye take 
 this hash-kid back to the galley. 
 
 The larger of the two victims sprang to his feet. 
 He was stained and disfigured from the effects of the 
 brass knuckles, and he looked anything but pleasant. 
 
 Say, Irish, he said angrily, * do you know who 
 you re talkin to ? Looks as though you don t. I m 
 used to all sorts of guff from all sorts of men, but 
 Mr. Breen, here 
 
 Johnson, interrupted the other, * wait it s of no 
 account now. This man s advice is sound. No one 
 would believe us, and we can prove nothing. We are 
 thoroughly helpless, and must submit until we reach 
 a Consular port, or something happens. Now, men, 
 he said to the others, my name is Breen. Call me 
 by it. You, too, Johnson. I yield to the inevitable, 
 and will do my share of the work as well as I can. If 
 I make mistakes, don t hesitate to criticise, and post 
 me, if you will. I ll be grateful. 
 
 But I ll tell you one thing to start with, said 
 Johnson, glaring round the forecastle : we ll take 
 
 70 
 
The Wigwag Message 
 
 turns at bringin grub and cleanin up the forecastle. 
 Another thing: I ve sailed in these wind-jammers 
 enough to know my work ; and that s more than you 
 fellows know, by the looks of you. I don t want your 
 instructions ; but Mr. Breen, here Breen, I mean 
 (a gesture from the other had interrupted him) 
 " Breen s forgotten what you and I will never learn, 
 though he might not be used to pullin ropes and 
 swabbin paint-work. If I find one o you pesterin 
 him, or puttin up any jobs, I ll break that man s 
 head ; understand me ? Anyone want to put this 
 thing to the test, now ? He scanned each man s face 
 in turn ; but none showed an inclination to respond. 
 They had seen him fight the big first mate. There s 
 not the makin of a whole man among you, he re 
 sumed. You stand still while three men do up two, 
 when, if you had any nerve, Mr. Breen, here, 
 might be aft, stead o ^eatin cracker-hash with a lot 
 o dock-rats and beach-combers. He s had better 
 playmates ; so ve I, for that matter, o late years. 
 
 Johnson, keep still, said the other. * It doesn t 
 matter what we have had, who we were or might be. 
 We re before the mast, bound for Hong-Kong. We 
 may find a Consul at Anjer ; I m not sure. Mean 
 while, I m Breen, and you are Johnson, and it s no 
 one s business what we have been. I m not anxious 
 for this matter to become public. I can explain to the 
 Department, and no one else need know. 
 
 * Very good, sir. 
 
 No, not " sir." Keep that for our superiors. 
 
 Johnson grumbled a little; then Mr. Hensen s 
 round Swedish face appeared at the door. 
 
 Hi, you in dere you big feller you come out. 
 You belong in der utter watch. You hear ? You come 
 out on deck, he called. 
 
 1 Ay, ay, sir, said Johnson, rising sullenly. 
 
 All the better, Johnson, whispered Breen. One 
 7* 
 
The Wigwag Message 
 
 can keep a lookout all the time. Keep your eyes open 
 and your mouth shut. 
 
 So for these two men the work of the voyage began. 
 The hard-headed, aggressive Johnson, placed in the 
 mate s watch, had no trouble in finding his place, and 
 keeping it, at the top of the class. He ruled the 
 assorted types of all nations who worked and slept 
 with him with sound logic backed by a strong arm 
 and hard fist, never trying to conceal his contempt for 
 them. 
 
 * You mixed nest o mongrels ! he would say at the 
 end of some petty squabble which he had settled for 
 them ; * why don t you stay in your own country ships, 
 or, if you must sign in American craft, try to feel and 
 act like Americans? It s just the same yawping at 
 one another in the forecastles that makes it easy for 
 the buckoes aft to hunt you. And that s why you get 
 your berths. No skipper ll ship an American sailor 
 while there s a Dutchman left in the shippin -office. 
 He wouldn t think it safe to go to sea with too many 
 American sailors forward to call him down and make 
 him treat em decent. He picks a Dago here, and a 
 Dutchman there, and all the Sou wegians he sees, and 
 fills in with the rakin s and scrapin s o hell, Bedlam, 
 and Newgate, knowin they ll hate one another worse 
 than they hate him, and never stand together. 
 
 To which they would respond in kind, though of 
 lesser degree, always yielding him the last word when 
 he spoke it loud enough. 
 
 But Breen, in the second mate s watch, had trouble 
 with his fellows at first. They could not understand 
 his quiet, gentlemanly demeanour, mistaking it for 
 fear of them ; so, unknown to Johnson, for he would 
 not complain, they subjected him to all the petty 
 annoyances which ignorance may inflict upon intelli 
 gence. Though he showed a theoretical knowledge 
 of ships and the sea superior to any they had met 
 
 72 
 
The Wigwag Message 
 
 with, he was not their equal in the practical work of 
 a sailor. He was awkward at pulling ropes with others, 
 placing his hands in the wrong place and mixing them 
 up in what must be a concerted pull to be effective. 
 His hands, unused to labour, became blistered and 
 sore, and he often, unconsciously perhaps, held back 
 from a task, to save himself from pain. He was an 
 indifferent helmsman, and off Hatteras, in a blow, was 
 sent from the wheel in disgrace. He did not know 
 the ropes, and made sad mistakes until he had mastered 
 the lesson. He could box the compass, in his own 
 way ; for instance, the quarter-points between north- 
 north-east and north-east by north he persisted in 
 naming from the first of these points instead of from 
 the other, as was seaman-like and proper ; and the 
 same with the corresponding sectors in the other 
 quadrants. Once, at the wheel, when the ship was 
 heading south-east by south half-south, he had been 
 asked the course, and answered : South-south-east 
 half-east, sir. For this he was profanely admonished 
 by the captain and ridiculed by the men. Johnson 
 had made the same mistake, but corrected himself in 
 time, and nothing was said about it ; but Breen was 
 bullied and badgered in the watch below the lubberly 
 nomenclature becoming a byword of derision and con 
 tempt until, patience leaving him, he doubled his 
 sore fingers into fists one dog-watch, and thrashed the 
 Irishman his most unforgiving critic so quickly, 
 thoroughly, and scientifically that persecution ceased ; 
 for the Irishman had been the master-spirit of the 
 port forecastle. 
 
 But the captain and mates were not won over. 
 Practical Johnson an able seaman from crown to toe 
 knew how to avoid or forestall their abuse ; but 
 Breen did not. The very presence of such a man as 
 he before the mast was a continuous menace an 
 insult to their artificial superiority and they assailed 
 
 73 
 
The Wigwag Message 
 
 him at each mistake with volleys of Billingsgate that 
 brought a flush to his fine face and tears to his eyes ; 
 later, a deadly paleness that would have been a warn 
 ing to tyrants of better discrimination. Once again, 
 while being rebuked in this manner, his self-control 
 left him. With white face and blazing eyes he darted 
 at Mr. Knapp, and had almost repeated Johnson s 
 feat on the poop when an iron belaying-pin in the 
 hands of the captain descended upon him and broke 
 his left arm. Mr. Knapp s fists and boots completed 
 his tutelage, and he was carried to his bunk with 
 another lesson learned. Johnson, swearing the while, 
 skilfully set the broken bones and made a sling ; 
 then, by tactful wheedling of the steward, secured 
 certain necessaries from the medicine-chest, with hot 
 water from the galley; but open assistance was re 
 fused by the captain. 
 
 Breen, scarcely able to move, held to his bunk for 
 a few days ; then, the first mild skirts of the trade- 
 wind being reached, the mate drove him to the wheel, 
 to steer one-handed through the day, while all hands 
 (in the afternoon) worked in the rigging. But the 
 trade-wind freshened, and his strength was not equal 
 to the task set for it. With the men all aloft and the 
 two mates forward, the ship nearly broached to one 
 day, and only the opportune arrival of Captain Bacon 
 on deck saved the spars. He seized the wheel, ground 
 it up, and the ship paid off; then a whole man was 
 called to relieve him, and the incompetent helmsman 
 was promptly and properly punished. He was kicked 
 off the poop, and his arm, as a consequence, needed 
 resetting. 
 
 Johnson had been aloft, but there was murder in 
 his dark eyes when he came down at supper-time. 
 Yet he knew its futility, and while bandaging the 
 broken arm earnestly explained, as Breen s groans 
 would allow, that if he killed one the other two would 
 
 74 
 
The Wigwag Message 
 
 kill him, and nothing would be gained. For they ve 
 brass knuckles in their pockets, sir, he said, and 
 pistols under their pillows. We haven t even sheath- 
 knives, and the crew wouldn t help. 
 
 Whereupon, an inspired Eussian Finn of the watch 
 remarked : * If a man know his work an do his work, 
 an gif no back lip to te mates, he get no trupple mit 
 te mates. In my country ships The disserta 
 tion was not finished. Johnson silently knocked him 
 down, and the incident closed. 
 
 But they found work which the crippled man could 
 do, after a short lying up. With the steward s wash 
 board he could wash the captain s soiled linen, which 
 the steward would afterwards wring out and hang up. 
 He refused at first, but was duly persuaded, and went 
 to work in the lee scuppers amidships. Johnson 
 made a detour on his way to the main-rigging, and 
 muttered : Say the word, sir, and I ll chance it. 
 No jury d convict. 
 
 No, no ; go aloft, Johnson. I m all right, answered 
 Breen, as he bent over the distasteful task. 
 
 Johnson climbed the rigging to the main-royal-yard, 
 which he was to scrape for re-oiling, and had no 
 sooner reached it than he sang out : 
 
 * Sail oh ! Dead ahead, sir. Looks like an armoured 
 cruiser o the first class. 
 
 Armoured cruiser o the first class ? muttered the 
 captain, as he carried his binoculars to the weather- 
 rail and looked ahead. More n I can make out with 
 the glasses. 
 
 If three funnels, two masts, two bridges, and two 
 sets of fighting-tops indicate an armoured cruiser of 
 the first class, Johnson was right. These the on-com 
 ing craft showed plainly, even at seven miles distance. 
 Fifteen minutes later she was storming by, a half-mile 
 to windward, a beautiful picture, long and white, 
 with an incurving ram-bow, with buff-coloured turrets 
 
 75 
 
The Wigwag Message 
 
 and superstructure, and black guns bristling from all 
 parts of her. The Stars and Stripes flew from the 
 flagstaff at the stern ; white-clad men swarmed about 
 her decks, and one of them, on the forward bridge, 
 close to a group of officers, was waving by its staff a 
 small red-and-white flag. Captain Bacon brought out 
 the American ensign, and with his own hands hoisted 
 it to the monkey-gaff on the mizzen, dipped it three 
 times in respectful salute, and left it at the gaff-end. 
 Then he looked at the cruiser, as every man on board 
 was doing, except the man washing clothes in the lee 
 scuppers. His business was to wash clothes, not to 
 cross a broad deck and climb a high rail to look at 
 passing craft ; but, as he washed away, he looked 
 furtively aloft, with eyes that sparkled, at the man on 
 the main-royal-yard. Johnson was standing erect on 
 the small spar, holding on with his left hand to the 
 royal-pole certainly the most conspicuous detail of 
 the whole ship to the eyes of those on board the 
 cruiser and with his right hand he was waving his 
 cap to the right and left, and up and down. There 
 was method in his motions, for when he would cease 
 the small red-and-white flag on the cruiser s bridge 
 would answer, waving to the right and left, and up 
 and down. 
 
 A secondary gun spoke from a midship sponson, and 
 Captain Bacon exclaimed enthusiastically, Salutin 
 the flag ! and again dipped his ensign. Then, after 
 an interval, during which it became apparent that the 
 cruiser had altered her course to cross the ship s stern, 
 there was seen another tongue of flame and cloud of 
 smoke, and something seemed to rush through the 
 air ahead of the ship. But it was a splash of water 
 far off on the lee bow which really apprised them that 
 the gun was shotted. At the same time a string of 
 small flags arose to the signal-yard, and when Cap 
 tain Bacon had found this combination in his code- 
 
The Wigwag Message 
 
 book, he read with amazement : Heave to or take 
 the consequences. By this time the cruiser was 
 squarely across his wake, most certainly rounding-to 
 for an interview. 
 
 * Heave to or take the consequences ! he exclaimed. 
 * And he s firm on us ! Down from aloft, all hands ! 
 he roared upward ; then he seized the answering 
 pennant from the flag-locker and displayed it from the 
 rail, begrudging the time needful to hoist it. The men 
 were sliding to the deck on backstays and running- 
 gear, and the mates were throwing down coils of rope 
 from the belaying-pins. 
 
 Man both main clue-garnets, some o you ! yelled 
 the captain. * Clue up ! Weather main-braces, the 
 rest o you ! Slack away to looward ! Bound wi the 
 yards, you farmers round wi em ! Down wi the 
 wheel, there ! Bring her up three points and hold 
 her. H 1 and blazes! what s he firin on me 
 for? 
 
 Excitedly the men obeyed him ; they were not used 
 to gun fire, and it is certainly exciting to be shot at. 
 Conspicuous among them was Johnson, who pulled 
 and hauled lustily, shouting exuberantly the formless 
 calls which sailors use in pulling ropes, and smiling 
 sardonically. In five minutes from the time of the 
 second gun the yards were backed, and, with weather 
 leeches trembling, the ship lay hove to, drifting 
 bodily to leeward. The cruiser had stopped her head 
 way, and a boat had left her side. There were ten 
 men at the oars, a coxswain at the yoke-ropes, and 
 with him in the stern- sheets a young man in an 
 ensign s uniform, who lifted his voice as the boat 
 neared the lee quarter, and shouted : Eig a side- 
 ladder aboard that ship ! 
 
 He was hardly more than a boy, but he was obeyed ; 
 not only the side-ladder, but the gangway steps were 
 rigged ; and leaving the coxswain and bow oarsman to 
 
 77 
 
The Wigwag Message 
 
 care for the boat, the young officer climbed aboard, 
 followed by the rest nine muscular man-of-war s- 
 men, each armed with cutlass and pistol, one of them 
 carrying a hand-bag, another a bundle. Captain 
 Bacon, as became his position, remained upon the 
 poop to receive his visitor, while the two mates stood 
 at the main fife-rail, and the ship s crew clustered 
 forward. Johnson, alert and attentive, stood a little 
 in the van, and the man in the lee scuppers still 
 washed clothes. 
 
 What s the matter, young man? asked the captain 
 from the break of the poop, with as much of dignity 
 as his recent agitation would permit. * Why do you 
 stop my ship on the high seas and board her with an 
 armed boat s crew? 
 
 * You have an officer and seaman of the navy on 
 board this ship, answered the ensign, who had been 
 looking about irresolutely. Produce them at once, 
 if you please. 
 
 * What what stuttered the captain, descend 
 ing the poop steps ; but before more was said there 
 was a sound from forward as of something hard 
 striking something heavy, and as they looked they 
 saw Captain Bacon s bucket of clothes sailing dia 
 gonally over the lee rail, scattering a fountain of soapy 
 water as it whirled ; his late laundryman coming 
 toward them with head erect, as though he might 
 have owned the ship and himself ; and Johnson, limp 
 ing slightly, making for the crowd of bluejackets at 
 the gangway. With these he fraternized at once, 
 telling them things in a low voice, and somewhat 
 profanely, while the two mates at the fife-rail eyed 
 him reprovingly, but did not interrupt. 
 
 Breen advanced to the ensign and said, as he ex 
 tended his hand : I am Lieutenant Breen. Did you 
 bring the clothing? This is an extremely fortunate 
 meeting for me ; but I can thank you you and your 
 
 78 
 
The Wigwag Message 
 
 brother officers much more gracefully aboard the 
 cruiser. 
 
 The officer took the extended hand gingerly, with 
 suspicion in his eyes. Perhaps, if it had not been 
 thoroughly clean from its late friction with soap and 
 water, he might have declined taking it ; for there 
 was nothing in the appearance of the haggard, ragged 
 wreck before him to indicate the naval officer. 
 
 There is some mistake, he said coldly. * I am 
 well acquainted with Lieutenant Breen, and you are 
 certainly not he. 
 
 Breen s face flushed hotly, but before he could reply 
 the captain broke in. 
 
 * Some mistake, hey ? said he derisively. I guess 
 there is another mistake another bluff that don t 
 go. Get out o here ; and I tell you now, blast yer 
 hide ! that if you make me any more trouble board 
 my ship, yer liable to go over the side feet first, with 
 a shackle to your heels. And you, young man, he 
 stormed, turning to the ensign, you look round, if 
 you like. There s my crew. All the navy officers 
 you find you can have, and welcome to em. He 
 turned his back, stamped a few paces along the deck, 
 and returned, working himself into a fury. 
 
 Breen had not moved, but, with a slight sparkle to 
 his eyes, said to the young officer : 
 
 I think, sir, that if you take the trouble to investi 
 gate, you will be satisfied. There are two Breens in 
 the navy. You know one evidently ; I am the other. 
 Lieutenant William Breen is on shore duty at Wash 
 ington, I think. Lieutenant John Breen, lately in 
 command of the torpedo-boat Wainwright, with his 
 signalman, Thomas Johnson, are shanghaied on board 
 this ship. There is Johnson talking to your men. 
 
 The young man s face changed, and his hand went 
 to his cap in salute. But the mischief was done. 
 Captain Bacon s indignation was at bursting-pressure, 
 
 79 
 
The Wigwag Message 
 
 and his mind in no condition to respond readily to 
 new impressions. He was captain of the ship, and 
 grossly affronted. Johnson, noting his purple face, 
 wisely reached for a topsail-brace belaying-pin, and 
 stepped toward him ; for he now towered over Breen, 
 cursing with volcanic energy. 
 
 Didn t I tell you to go forrard ! he roared, drawing 
 back his powerful fist. 
 
 Breen stood his ground ; the officer raised his hand 
 and half drew his sword, while the bluejackets sprang 
 forward; but it was Johnson s belaying-pin which 
 stopped that mighty fist in mid-passage. It was an 
 iron club, eighteen inches long by an inch and a half 
 diameter ; and Johnson, strong man though he was, 
 used it two-handed. It struck the brawny forearm 
 just above the wrist with a crashing sound, and seemed 
 to sink in. Captain Bacon almost fell, but recovered 
 his balance, and, holding the broken bones together, 
 staggered toward the booby-hatch for support. He 
 groaned in pain, but did not curse ; for it requires a 
 modicum of self-respect for this, and Captain Bacon s 
 self-respect was completely shocked out of him. 
 
 But Mr. Knapp and Mr. Hansen still respected 
 themselves, and were coming. 
 
 You keep back, there you two ! yelled Johnson 
 excitedly. Stand by here, mates. These buckoes 
 11 come one yet. Look out for their brass knuckles 
 and guns. 
 
 And the two officers halted. They had no desire to 
 assert themselves before nine scowling, armed men 
 an angry and aggressive mutineer with a belaying-pin, 
 and a rather confused, but awakening, young officer 
 with drawn sword. Johnson backed toward the latter. 
 
 Don t you know me, Mr. Bronson ? he said * Tom 
 Johnson, coxs n o the gig on your practice-cruise. 
 Member me, sir? This is Lieutenant Breen take 
 my word, sir. 
 
 80 
 
The Wigwag Message 
 
 Yes yes I understand, said the ensign, with a 
 face redder than Breen s had been. I really beg 
 your pardon, Mr. Breen. It was inexcusable in me, I 
 know but I had expected to see a different face, 
 and and we re three months out from Hong-Kong, 
 you see 
 
 Breen smiled, and interrupted with a gesture. 
 
 No time for explanations, Mr. Bronson, said he 
 kindly. Did you bring the clothes ? Thoughtful 
 of Johnson to ask for them, wasn t it? It really 
 would be embarrassing to join your ship in this rig. 
 In the grip and bundle ? All right. Form your men 
 across the deck, please, forward of the cabin. Keep 
 these brutes away from us while we change. Come, 
 Johnson. 
 
 Taking the hand-bag and the bundle, they brazenly 
 entered the cabin by the forward door. In ten minutes 
 they emerged, Johnson clad in the blue rig of a man- 
 of-war s-man, Breen in the undress uniform of an 
 officer, his crippled arm buttoned into the coat. As 
 they stepped toward the gangway, Captain Bacon, pale 
 and perspiring, wheezing painfully, entered the cabin 
 and passed out of their lives. The steward followed 
 at his heels, and the two mates, with curiously work 
 ing faces, approached Breen. 
 
 Excuse me, sir, said Mr. Knapp, but I want to 
 say that I had no notion o this at all ; and I hope 
 you won t make no trouble for me ashore. 
 
 Breen, one foot on the steps while he waited for the 
 blue- jackets to file over the side, eyed him thought 
 fully. 
 
 No, he said slowly. I hardly think, Mr. Knapp, 
 that I shall exert myself to make trouble for you 
 personally, or for the other two. There is a measure 
 now before Congress which, if it passes, will legislate 
 brutes like you and your captain off the American 
 quarter-deck by its educational conditions. This, with 
 
 81 G 
 
The Wigwag Message 
 
 a consideration for your owners, is what permits you 
 to continue this voyage, instead of going back to the 
 United States in irons. But if I had the power, he 
 added, looking at the beautiful flag still flying at the 
 gaff, I would lower that ensign, and forbid you to 
 hoist it. It is the flag of a free country, and should 
 not float over slave-ships. 
 
 He mounted the steps, and, assisted by the young 
 officer and Johnson, descended to the boat ; but before 
 Johnson went down, he peered over the rail at the 
 two mates, grinning luridly. 
 
 * And I ll promise you, he said, that I m always 
 willing to make trouble for you, ashore or afloat, and 
 wish I had a little more time for it now. And you 
 can tell your skipper, if you like, in case he don t 
 know it, that he got smashed with the same club that 
 
 he used on Mr. Breen, and I m only d d sorry I 
 
 didn t bring it down on his head. So long, you 
 bloody - minded hell - drivers ! See you again some 
 day. 
 
 He descended, and Mr. Knapp gave the order to 
 brace the yards. 
 
 Give a good deal, he mused, as the men manned 
 the braces, * to know just how they got news to that 
 cruiser. Homeward bound from Hong-Kong three 
 months out. Couldn t ha been sent after us. 
 
 But he never learned. 
 
 82 
 
THE TRADE-WIND 
 
 THE orgy was finished. The last sea-song had re 
 sounded over the smooth waters of the bay ; the last 
 drunken shout, oath, and challenge were voiced ; the 
 last fight ended in helplessness and maudlin amity, 
 and the red-shirted men were sprawled around on the 
 moonlit deck, snoring. Though the barrel of rum 
 broached on the main-hatch was but slightly lowered, 
 their sleep was heavy ; scurvy-tainted men at the end 
 of a Cape Horn passage may not drink long or deeply. 
 Some lay as they fell face upward ; others on their 
 sides for a while, then to roll over on their backs and 
 so remain until the sleep was done ; for in no other 
 position may the human body rest easy on a hard bed 
 with no pillow. And as they slept through the tropic 
 night the full moon in the east rose higher and 
 higher, passed overhead and disappeared behind a 
 thickening haze in the western sky ; but before it 
 had crossed the meridian its cold, chemical rays had 
 worked disastrously on the eyes of the sleeping men. 
 
 Captain Swarth, prone upon the poop-deck, was the 
 first to waken. There was pain in his head, pain in 
 his eyes which were swollen and a whistling tumult 
 of sound in his ears, coming from the Plutonian dark 
 ness surrounding him, while a jarring vibration of the 
 deck beneath him apprised his awakening brain that 
 the anchor was dragging. As he staggered to his feet 
 
 83 G 2 
 
The Trade-Wind 
 
 a violent pressure of wind hurled him against the 
 wheel, to which he clung, staring into the blackness 
 to windward. 
 
 All hands, there ! he roared. Up with you all ! 
 Go forward and pay out on the chain ! 
 
 Shouts, oaths, and growls answered him, and he 
 heard the nasal voice of his mate repeating his order. 
 Angel, he called, get the other anchor over and 
 give her all of both chains. 
 
 Ay, ay, sir, answered the mate. Send a lantern 
 forrard, Bill. Can t see our noses. 
 
 Steward! yelled the captain, where are you? 
 Light up a deck-lantern and the binnacle. Bear a 
 hand. 
 
 He heard the steward s voice close to him, and the 
 sound of the binnacle lights being removed from their 
 places, then the opening and closing of the cabin 
 companionway. He could see nothing, but knew that 
 the steward had gone below to his store-room. In a 
 minute more a shriek came from the cabin. It rang 
 out again and again, and soon sounded from the 
 companionway: I m blind, I m blind, cap n! I 
 can t see. I lit the lantern and burned my fingers ; 
 but I can t see the light. I m blind ! The steward s 
 voice ended in a howl. 
 
 Shut up, you blasted fool ! answered Captain 
 Swarth ; get down there and light up. 
 
 Where s that light ? came the mate s voice in a 
 yell from amidships. Shankpainter s jammed, Bill ! 
 Can t do a thing without a light. 
 
 Come aft here and get it. Steward s drunk. 
 
 The doors in the forward part of the cabin slammed, 
 and the mate s profanity mingled with the protest of 
 the steward in the cabin. Then shouts came from 
 forward, borne on the gale, and soon followed by the 
 shuffling of feet as the men groped their way aft and 
 climbed the poop steps. 
 
The Trade- Wind 
 
 We re stone-blind, cappen, they wailed. We lit 
 the fo c s le lamp, an it don t show up. We can t see 
 it. Nobody can see it. We re all blind. 
 
 Come down here, Bill, called the mate from 
 below. 
 
 As Captain Swarth felt his way down the stairs, a 
 sudden shock stilled the vibrations caused by the 
 dragging anchor, and he knew that the chain had 
 parted. 
 
 Stand by on deck, Angel ; we re adrift, he said. 
 It s darker than ten thousand black cats. What s 
 the matter with you ? 
 
 Can you see the light, Bill ? I can t. I m blind 
 as the steward, or I m drunker/ 
 
 No. Is it lit? Where? The men say they re 
 blind, too. 
 
 Here, forrard end o the table. 
 
 The captain reached this end, searched with his 
 hands, and burned them on the hot glass of a lantern. 
 He removed the bowl and singed the hair on his 
 wrists. The smell came to his nostrils. 
 
 I m blind, too, he groaned. Angel, it s the 
 moon. We re moonstruck moon-blind. And we re 
 adrift in a squall. Steward, he said, as he made his 
 way towards the stairs, light the binnacle, and stop 
 that whining. Maybe some one can see a little. 
 
 When he reached the deck he called to the men, 
 growling, cursing, and complaining on the poop. 
 Down below with you all! he ordered. Pass 
 through and out the forrard door. If any man sees 
 the light on the cabin table, let that man sing out. 
 
 They obeyed him. Twenty men passed through 
 the cabin and again climbed the poop stairs, their 
 lamentations still troubling the night. But not one 
 had seen the lantern. Some said that they could not 
 open their eyes at all; some complained that their 
 faces were swollen ; others that their mouths were 
 
 85 
 
The Trade-Wind 
 
 twisted up to where their ears should be ; and one 
 man averred that he could not breathe through his 
 nose. 
 
 It ll only last a few days, boys, said the captain 
 bravely ; we shouldn t have slept in the moonlight 
 in these latitudes. Drop the lead over, one of you 
 weather side. The devil knows where we re drifting, 
 and the small anchor won t hold now ; we ll save it. 
 
 Captain Swarth was himself again. But not so 
 his men. They had become children, with children s 
 fear of the dark. Even the doughty Angel Todd 
 was oppressed by the first horror of the situation, 
 speaking only when spoken to. Above the rushing 
 sound of wind and the smacking of short seas could 
 be heard the voice of the steward in the cabin, while 
 an occasional heart-borne malediction or groan 
 according to temperament added to the distraction 
 on deck. One man, more self-possessed than the rest, 
 had dropped the lead over the side. An able seaman 
 needs no eyes to heave the lead. 
 
 A quarter six, he sang out, and then, plaintively : 
 We ll fetch up on the Barrier, capt n. S pose we try 
 an get the other hook over ? 
 
 Yes, yes, chorused some of the braver spirits. 
 * It may hold. We don t want to drown on the reef. 
 Let s get it over. Chain s overhauled ! 
 
 Let the anchor alone ! roared the captain. No 
 anchor-chain ll hold in this. Keep that lead a-going, 
 Tom Plate, if it s you. What bottom do you find ? 
 
 * Quarter less six, called the leadsman. Soft 
 bottom. We re shoaling. 
 
 Angel/ said the captain to his mate, who stood 
 close to him, we re blowing out the south channel. 
 We ve been drifting long enough to fetch up on the 
 reef if it was in our way. There s hard bottom in the 
 north channel, and the twenty-fathom lead wouldn t 
 reach it half a length from the rocks. 
 
 86 
 
The Trade- Wind 
 
 The mate had nothing to say. 
 And the south channel lay due south-east from our 
 moorings, continued the captain. * Wind s nor -west, 
 I should say, right down from the hilltops ; and I ve 
 known these blasted West India squalls to last three 
 days, blowing straight and hard. This has the smell 
 of a gale in it already. Keep that lead a-going, there ! 
 No bottom ! answered the leadsman. 
 Good enough, said the captain cheerfully. 
 No bottom! was called repeatedly, until the cap 
 tain sang out : That ll do the lead. Then the leads 
 man coiled up the line, and they heard his rasping, 
 unpleasant voice, cursing softly but fiercely to himself. 
 Captain Swarth descended the stairs, silenced the 
 steward with a blow, felt of the clock-hands, secured 
 his pistols, and returned to the deck. 
 
 We re at sea, he said. * Two hands to the wheel ! 
 Loose and set the fore-topmast-staysails and the fore- 
 topsail ! Staysail first ! Let a man stay in the slings 
 to square the yard by the feel as it goes up. 
 
 What for ? they answered complainingly. What 
 ye goin to do ? We can t see. Why didn t you bring 
 to when you had bottom under you ? 
 
 No arguments ! yelled Swarth. Forrard with 
 you ! What are you doing on the poop, anyway ? 
 If you can t see, you can feel, and what more do you 
 want ? Jump, now. Set that head-sail and get her 
 fore the wind quick ! or I ll drop some of you. 
 
 They knew their captain, and they knew the ropes, 
 on the blackest of dark nights. Blind men climbed 
 aloft, and felt for foot-ropes and gaskets. Blind men 
 on deck felt for sheets, halyards, and braces, and in 
 ten minutes the sails were set, and the brig was 
 charging wildly along before the gale, with two blind 
 men at the wheel endeavouring to keep her straight 
 by the right and left pressure of the wind on their 
 faces. 
 
The Trade- Wind 
 
 Keep the wind as much on the port quarter as you 
 can without broaching to ! yelled the captain in their 
 ears, and they answered and did their best. She was 
 a clean-lined craft, and steered easily ; yet the off 
 shore sea which was rising often threw her around 
 until nearly in the trough. The captain remained by 
 them, advising and encouraging. 
 
 * Where re ye goin , Bill ? asked the mate weakly, 
 as he scrambled up to him. 
 
 * Eight out to sea ; and, unless we get our eyes 
 back soon, right across to the Bight of Benin, three 
 thousand miles from here. We ve no business on 
 this coast in this condition. What ails you, Angel ? 
 Lost your nerve ? 
 
 1 Mebbe, Bill. The mate s voice was hoarse and 
 strained. This is new to me. I m falling falling 
 all the time. 
 
 So am I. Brace up ! We ll get used to it. Get 
 a couple of hands aft and heave the log. We take our 
 departure from Kittredge Point, Barbados Island, at 
 six o clock this morning of the 10th October. We ll 
 keep a Geordie s log-book with a jack-knife and a 
 stick. 
 
 They hove the log for him. It was marked for a 
 now useless 28-second sand-glass, which Captain 
 Swarth replaced by a spare chronometer, held to his 
 ear in the companionway. It ticked even seconds, 
 and when twenty-eight of them had passed he called, 
 * Stop ! The markings on the line that had slipped 
 through the mate s fingers indicated an eight-knot 
 speed. 
 
 Seven, allowing for wild steering, said the captain 
 when he had stowed away his chronometer and re 
 turned to the deck. Angel, we know we re going 
 about sou -east by east, seven knots. There s practi 
 cally no variation o the compass in these seas, and 
 that course ll take us clear of Cape St. Eoque. Just 
 
 88 
 
The Trade-Wind 
 
 as fast as the men can stand it at the wheel, we ll 
 pile on canvas and get all we can out o this good 
 wind. If it takes us into the south-east trades, well 
 and good. We can feel our way across on the trade- 
 wind unless we hit something, of course. You see, 
 it blows almost out of the east on this side, and ll 
 haul more to the sou -east and south ard as we get 
 over. By the wind first, then we ll square away as 
 we need to. We ll know the smell o the trades 
 nothing like it on earth and the smell o the Gold 
 Coast, Ivory Coast, Slave Coast, and the Kameruns. 
 And I ll lay odds we can feel the heat o the sun in 
 the east and west enough to make a fair guess at the 
 course. But it won t come to that. Some of us ll be 
 able to see pretty soon. 
 
 It was wild talk, but the demoralized mate needed 
 encouraging. He answered with a steadier voice : 
 * Lucky we got in grub and water yesterday. 
 
 * Eight you are, Angel. Now, in case this holds on 
 to us, why, we ll find some of our friends over in the 
 Bight, and they ll know by our rig that something s 
 wrong. Flanders is somewhere on the track you 
 know he went back to the nigger business and Chink 
 put a slave-deck in his hold down Kio way last spring. 
 And old man Slack I did him a service when I 
 crippled the corvette that was after him, and he s 
 grateful. Hope we ll meet him. I d rather meet 
 Chink than Flanders in the dark, and I d trust a 
 Javanese trader before either. If either of them comes 
 aboard, we ll be ready to use their eyes for our benefit, 
 not let em use ours for theirs. Flanders once said 
 he liked the looks of this brig. 
 
 S pose we run foul of a bulldog ? 
 
 * We ll have to chance it. This coast s full o them, 
 too. Great guns, man ! would you drift round and 
 do nothing ? Anywhere east of due south there s no 
 land nearer than Cape Orange, and that s three 
 
 89 
 
The Trade- Wind 
 
 hundred and fifty miles from here. Beginning to 
 morrow noon, we ll take deep-sea soundings until we 
 strike the trade-wind. 
 
 The negro cook felt his way through the preparing 
 of meals and served them on time. The watches were 
 set, and sail was put on the brig as fast as the men 
 became accustomed to the new way of steering, those 
 relieved always imparting what they had learned to 
 their successors. Before nightfall on that first day 
 they were scudding under foresail, topsail and top- 
 gallantsail and maintopsail, with the spanker furled 
 as useless, and the jib giving its aid to the foretop- 
 mast-staysail in keeping the brig before the quarter 
 ing seas which occasionally climbed aboard. The 
 bowsprit light was rigged nightly ; they hove the log 
 every two hours ; and Captain Swarth made scratches 
 and notches on the sliding-hood of the companionway, 
 while careful to wind his chronometer daily. 
 
 But, in spite of the cheer of his indomitable courage 
 and confidence, his men, with the exception of a few, 
 dropped into a querulous, whining discontent. Mr. 
 Todd, spurred by his responsibility, gradually came 
 around to something like his old arbitrary self. Yank 
 Tate, the carpenter, maintained through it all a 
 patient faith in the captain, and, in so far as his 
 influence could be felt, acted as a foil to the irascible, 
 fault-finding Tom Plate, the forecastle lawyer, the man 
 who had been at the lead-line at Barbados. But the 
 rest of them were dazed and nerveless, too shaken in 
 brain and body to consider seriously Tom s proposition 
 to toss the after-guard overboard and beach the brig 
 on the South American coast, where they could get 
 fresh liver of shark, goat, sheep, or bullock, which even 
 a nigger knew was the only cure for moon-blindness. 
 
 They had not yet recovered from the unaccustomed 
 debauch; their clouded brains seemed too large for 
 their skulls, and their eyeballs ached in their sockets, 
 
 90 
 
The Trade- Wind 
 
 while they groped tremblingly from rope to rope at 
 the behest of the captain or mate. 
 
 So Tom marked himself for future attention by 
 insolent and disapproving comments on the orders of 
 his superiors, and a habit of moving swiftly to another 
 part of the deck directly he had spoken, which pre 
 vented the blind and angry captain finding him in the 
 crowd. 
 
 Dim as must have been the light of day through the 
 pelting rain and storm-cloud, it caused increased pain 
 in their eyes, and they bound them with their necker 
 chiefs, applying meanwhile such remedies as fore 
 castle lore could suggest. The captain derided these 
 remedies, but frankly confessed his ignorance of any 
 thing but time as a means of cure. And so they 
 existed and suffered through a three days damp gale 
 and a fourth day s dead calm, when the brig rolled 
 scuppers under with all sail set, ready for the next 
 breeze. It came, cool, dry, and faint at first, then 
 brisker the unmistakable trade- wind. They boxed 
 the brig about and braced sharp on the starboard 
 tack, steering again by the feel of the wind and the 
 rattling of shaking leeches aloft. The removal of 
 bandages to ascertain the sun s position by sense of 
 light or increase of pain brought agonized howls from 
 the experimenters, and this deterred the rest. Not even 
 by its warmth could they locate it. It was overhead 
 at noon and useless as a guide. In the early morning 
 and late afternoon, when it might have indicated east 
 and west, its warmth was overcome by the coolness of 
 the breeze. So they steered on blindly, close-hauled 
 on the starboard tack, nearly as straight a course as 
 though they were whole men. 
 
 They took occasional deep-sea soundings with the 
 brig shaking in the wind, but found no bottom, and 
 at the end of fifteen days a longer heave to the 
 ground-swell was evidence to Captain Swarth s mind 
 
The Trade-Wind 
 
 that he was passing Cape St. Koque, and the sound 
 ings were discontinued. 
 
 No use bothering about St. Paul s Eocks or the 
 Rocas, Angel, said he. They rise out o the deep 
 sea, and if we re to hit, soundings won t warn us in 
 time. I take it we ll pass between them and well 
 north of Ascension. So he checked in the yards a 
 little and brought the wind more abeam. 
 
 One day Yank Tate appeared at the captain s elbow, 
 and suggested, in a low voice, that he should examine 
 the treasure-chests in the tween-deck. I was down 
 stowing away some oakum, he said, an I was sure 
 I heard the lid close ; but nobody answered me, an 
 I couldn t feel anybody. 
 
 Captain Swarth descended to his cabin and found his 
 keys missing ; then he and the carpenter visited the 
 chests. They were locked tight, and as heavy as ever. 
 
 Someone has the keys, Yank, and has very likely 
 raided the diamonds. We can t do anything but wait. 
 He can t get away. Keep still about it. 
 
 The air became cooler as they sailed on, and, 
 judging that the trade- wind was blowing more from 
 the south than he had allowed for, the captain brought 
 the wind squarely abeam, and the brig sailed faster. 
 Still, it was too cool for the latitude, and it puzzled 
 him, until a man came aft and groaned that he had 
 lifted his bandage to bathe his eyes, and had unmis 
 takably seen the sun four points off the port quarter ; 
 but his eyes were worse now, and he could not do it 
 again. 
 
 Four points off ! exclaimed Swarth. Four o clock 
 in the afternoon. That s just about where the sun 
 ought to be heading due east, and far enough south 
 o the line to bring this cool weather. We re not far 
 from Ascension. Never knew the sou -east trade to 
 act like this before. Must ha been blowing out o the 
 sou -west half the time. 
 
 92 
 
The Trade- Wind 
 
 A week later they were hove-to on the port tack 
 under double-reefed topsails, with a cold gale of wind 
 screaming through the rigging and cold green seas 
 boarding their weather bow. It was the first break 
 in the friendly trade-wind, and Swarth confessed to 
 himself though not to his men that he was out of 
 his reckoning ; but one thing he was sure of, that this 
 was a cyclone with a dangerous centre. 
 
 The brig laboured heavily during the lulls as the 
 seas rose, and when the squalls came, flattening them 
 to a level, she would lie down like a tired animal, 
 while the aeolian song aloft prevented orders being 
 heard unless shouted near by. Captain Swarth went 
 below and smashed the glass of an aneroid barometer 
 (newly invented and lately acquired from an outward- 
 bound Englishman), in which he had not much con 
 fidence, but which might tell him roughly of the 
 air-density. Feeling of the indicator, and judging by 
 the angle it made with the centre marked by a ring 
 at the top he found a measurement which startled 
 him. Setting the adjustable hand over the indicator 
 for future reference, he returned to the deck, ill at 
 ease, and ordered the topsails goose-winged. By the 
 time the drenched and despairing blind men had 
 accomplished this, a further lowering of the barometer 
 induced him to furl topsails and fore-topmast-staysail, 
 and allow the brig to ride under a storm-spanker. 
 Then the increasing wind required that this also 
 should be taken in, and its place filled by a tarpaulin 
 lashed to the weather main-rigging. 
 
 Angel, said the captain, shouting into the mate s 
 ear, there s only one thing to account for this. 
 We re on the right tack for the Southern Ocean, but 
 the storm centre is overtaking us faster than we can 
 drift away from it. We must scud out of its way. 
 
 So they took in the tarpaulin and set the fore-top 
 mast-staysail again, and, with the best two helmsmen 
 
 93 
 
The Trade-Wind 
 
 at the wheel, they sped before the tempest for four 
 hours, during which there was no increase of the wind 
 and no change in the barometer ; it still remained at 
 its lowest reading. 
 
 1 Keep the wind as much on the port quarter as 
 you dare, ordered Swarth. * We re simply sailing 
 around the centre, and perhaps in with the vortex. 
 
 They obeyed him as they could, and in a few hours 
 more there was less fury in the blast and a slight rise 
 in the barometer. 
 
 I was right, said the captain. The centre will 
 pass us now ! We re out of its way ! 
 
 They brought the brig around amid a crashing of 
 seas over the port rail, and stowing the staysail, 
 pinned her again on the port tack with the tarpaulin. 
 But a few hours of it brought an increase of wind 
 and a fall of the barometer. 
 
 What in d nation does it mean, Angel? cried the 
 captain desperately. * By all laws of storms we ought 
 to drift away from the centre. 
 
 The mate could not tell ; but a voice out of the 
 night, barely distinguishable above the shrieking wind, 
 answered him. 
 
 You all-fired fool don t you know any 
 more than to heave to in the Gulf 
 Stream? 
 
 Then there was the faintest disturbance in the 
 sounds of the sea, indicating the rushing by of a 
 large craft. 
 
 1 What ! roared Swarth. The Gulf Stream ? I ve 
 lost my reckoning. Where am I ? Ship ahoy ! 
 Where am I ? 
 
 There was no answer, and he stumbled down to the 
 main-deck among his men, followed by the mate. 
 
 Draw a bucket of water, one of you, he ordered. 
 
 This was done, and he immersed his hand. The 
 water was warm. 
 
 94 
 
The Trade-Wind 
 
 * Gulf Stream ! he yelled frantically* Gulf Stream ! 
 How in h 1 did we get up here ? We ought to be 
 down near St. Helena. Angel, come here. Let s 
 think. We sailed by the wind on the south-east trade 
 
 for No, we didn t : it was the north-east trade. 
 
 We caught the north-east trade, and we ve circled all 
 over the Western Ocean. 
 
 You re a bully full-rigged navigator, you are ! came 
 the sneering, rasping voice of Tom Plate from the 
 crowd. Why didn t you drop your hook at Barbados, 
 and give us a chance for our eyes ? 
 
 The captain lunged toward him on the reeling deck ; 
 but Tom moved on. 
 
 Your time is coming, Tom Plate! he shouted 
 insanely ; then he climbed to the poop, and when he 
 had studied the situation awhile, called his bewildered 
 mate up to him. 
 
 1 We were blown out of the north entrance o the 
 bay, Angel, instead of the south, as we thought. I 
 was fooled by the soundings. At this time o the year 
 Barbados is about on the thermal equator half-way 
 between the trades. This is a West India cyclone, 
 and we re somewhere around Hatteras. No wonder 
 the port tack drifted us into the centre. Storms 
 revolve against the sun north o the line, and with the 
 sun south of it. Oh, I m the two ends and the bight 
 of a d d fool ! Wear ship ! he added in a thunder 
 ing roar. 
 
 They put the brig on the starboard tack, and took 
 hourly soundings with the deep-sea lead. As they 
 hauled it in for the fourth time, the men called that 
 the water was cold ; and on the next sounding the 
 lead reached bottom at ninety fathoms. 
 
 We re inside the Stream and the hundred-fathom 
 curve, Angel. The barometer s rising now. The 
 storm-centre s leaving us, and we re drifting ashore, 
 said the captain. I know pretty well where I am. 
 
 95 
 
The Trade-Wind 
 
 These storms follow an invariable track, and I judge 
 the centre is to the east of us, moving north. That s 
 why we didn t run into it when we thought we were 
 dodging it. We ll square away with the wind on the 
 starboard quarter now, and if we pick up the Stream 
 and the glass don t rise, I ll be satisfied to turn in. 
 I m about fagged out. 
 
 It s too much for me, Bill, answered Mr. Todd 
 wearily. I can navigate ; but this ain t navigation. 
 This is blindman s buff. 
 
 But he set the head-sail for his captain, and again 
 the brig fled before the wind. Only once did they 
 round - to for soundings, and this time found no 
 bottom ; so they squared away, and when, a few hours 
 later, the seas came aboard warm, Swarth was con 
 fident enough of his position to allow his mind to 
 dwell on pettier details of his business. 
 
 It was nearly breakfast-time now, and the men 
 would soon be eating. With his pistols in his coat- 
 pockets he stationed himself beside the scuttle of the 
 fore-hatch the entrance to the forecastle and waited 
 long and patiently, listening to occasional comments 
 on his folly and bad seamanship which ascended from 
 below, until the harsh voice of Tom Plate on the stairs 
 indicated his coming up. He reached toward Tom 
 with one hand, holding a cocked pistol with the other ; 
 but Tom slid easily out of his wavering grasp and fled 
 along the deck. He followed his footsteps until he 
 lost them, and picked up instead the angry plaint of 
 the negro cook in the galley amidships. 
 
 I do know who you are, but you want to get right 
 out o my galley, now. You heah me? I se had 
 enough o dis comin inter my galley. Gwan, now ! 
 Is you de man dat s all time stealin my coffee ? I ll 
 gib you coffee, you trash ! Take dat ! 
 
 Captain Swarth reached the galley door in time to 
 receive on the left side of his face a generous share of 
 
The Trade- Wind 
 
 a pot of scalding coffee. It brought an involuntary 
 shriek of agony from him ; then he clung to the galley- 
 lashings and spoke his mind. Still in torment, he 
 felt his way through the galley ; but the cook and the 
 intruder had escaped by the other door and made no 
 sound. 
 
 All that day and the night following he chose to lie 
 in his darkened state-room, with his face bandaged in 
 oily cloths, while Yank Tate stood his watch. In the 
 morning he removed the bandages and took in the 
 sight of his state-room fittings : the bulkhead, his desk, 
 chronometer, cutlass, and clothing hanging on the 
 hooks. It was a joyous sight, and he shouted in glad 
 ness. He could not see with his right eye and but dimly 
 with his left, but a scrutiny of his face in a mirror 
 disclosed deep lines that had not been there, distorted 
 eyelids, and the left side where the coffee had scalded 
 puffed to a large angry blister. He tied up his face, 
 leaving his left eye free, and went on deck. 
 
 The wind had moderated, but on all sides was a 
 wild gray waste of heaving, white-crested combers, 
 before which the brig was still scudding under the 
 staysail. Three miles off on the port bow was a large, 
 square-bowed, square-yarded ship, hove to and head 
 ing away from them, which might be a frigate or a 
 subsidized Englishman with painted ports ; but in 
 either case she could not be investigated now. He 
 looked at the compass. The brig was heading about 
 south-east, and his judgment was confirmed. Two 
 haggard-faced men with bandaged eyes were grinding 
 the wheel to starboard and port, and keeping the 
 brig s yaws within two points each way good work 
 for blind men. Angel Todd stood near, his chin rest 
 ing in his hand and his elbow on the companionway. 
 Forward the watch sat about in coils of rope and 
 sheltered nooks or walked the deck unsteadily, and a 
 glance aloft showed the captain his rigging hanging in 
 
 97 H 
 
The Trade-Wind 
 
 bights and yards pointed every way. She was un 
 kempt as a wreck. The same glance apprized him of 
 an English ensign, union down, tattered and frayed 
 to half its size, at the end of the standing spanker- 
 gaff, with the halyards made fast high on the royal- 
 backstay, above the reach of bungling blind fingers. 
 Torn Plate was coming aft with none of the hesitancy 
 of the blind, and squinting aloft at the damaged 
 distress-signal. He secured another ensign American 
 from the flag-locker in the booby-hatch, mounted 
 the rail, and hoisted it, union down, in place of the 
 other. Then he dropped to the deck and looked into 
 the glaring left eye and pepper-box pistol of Captain 
 Swarth, who had descended on him. 
 
 Hands up, Tom Plate, over your head ! quick, 
 or I ll blow your brains out ! 
 
 White in the face and open-mouthed, Tom obeyed. 
 
 Mr. Todd ! called the captain, come down here 
 port main-rigging. 
 
 The mate came quickly, as he always did when he 
 heard the prefix to his name. It was used only in 
 emergencies. 
 
 What soundings did you get at the lead when we 
 were blowing out ? asked the captain. * What water 
 did you have when you sang out " A quarter six " 
 and " A quarter less six "? 
 
 N-n-one, capt n. There warn t any bottom. I 
 jes wanted to get you to drop the other anchor and 
 hold her off the reef. 
 
 Got him tight, cappen ? asked the mate. Shall 
 I help you hold im ? 
 
 I ve got my sight back. I ve got Tom Plate under 
 my gun. How long have you been flying signals of 
 distress, Tom Plate? 
 
 Ever since I could see, capt n, answered the 
 trembling sailor. 
 
 How long is that ? 
 
 98 
 
The Trade-Wind 
 
 Second day out, sir. 
 
 What s your idea in keeping still about it ? What 
 could you gain by being taken aboard a man-of- 
 war? 
 
 * I didn t want to have all the work piled on me jes 
 cause I could see, capt n. I never thought anybody 
 could ever see again. I slept partly under No. 2 gun 
 that night, and didn t get it so bad. 
 
 You sneaked into my room, got my keys, and 
 raided the treasure-chests. You know what the rules 
 say about that? Death without trial. 
 
 No, I didn t, capt n; I didn t. 
 
 Search him, Mr. Todd. 
 
 The search brought to light a tobacco-pouch in 
 which were about fifty unset diamonds and a few 
 well- jewelled solid-gold ornaments, which the captain 
 pocketed. 
 
 Not much of a haul, considering what you left 
 behind, he said calmly. I suppose you only took 
 what you could safely hide and swim with. 
 
 I only took my share, sir ; I did no harm ; I didn t 
 want to be driftin round wi blind men. How d I 
 know anybody could ever see any more ? 
 
 Sad mistake, Tom. All we wanted, it seems, was 
 a good scalding with hot coffee. He mused a few 
 moments, then continued : There must be some 
 medical virtue in hot coffee which the doctors haven t 
 learned, and well, Tom, you ve earned your finish. 
 
 You won t do it, capt n; you can t do it. The 
 men won t have it ; they re with me, stuttered the 
 man. 
 
 Possibly they are, I heard you all growling down 
 the hatch yesterday morning. You re a pack of small- 
 minded curs. I ll get another crew. Mr. Todd, he 
 said to the listening mate, steward told me he was 
 out of coffee, so we ll break a bag out o the lazarette. 
 It s a heavy lift two hundred pounds and over bout 
 
 99 H 2 
 
The Trade- Wind 
 
 the weight of a man ; so we ll hoist it up. Let 
 Tom, here, rig a whip to the spanker-gaff. He can 
 see. 
 
 Ay, ay, sir, answered the mate. * Get a single 
 block and a strap and a gant-line out o the bo s n s 
 locker, Tom. 
 
 Is it all right, capt n ? asked Tom, lowering his 
 hands with a deep sigh of relief. * I did what seemed 
 right, you know. 
 
 * Kig that whip, said Swarth, turning his back and 
 ascending the poop. 
 
 Tom secured the gear, and climbing aloft and out 
 the gaff, fastened the block directly over the lazarette- 
 hatch, just forward of the binnacle. Then he over 
 hauled the rope until it reached the deck, and 
 descended. 
 
 Come up here on the poop, called the captain ; 
 and he came. 
 
 Shall I go down and hook on, sir ? he asked 
 zealously. 
 
 Make a hangman s noose in the end of the rope, 
 said Swarth. 
 
 Eh what a runnin bowline a timber-hitch? 
 No, no, he yelled, as he read the captain s face. 
 You can t do it ! The men 
 
 Make a hangman s knot in the end of the rope ! 
 thundered the captain, his pistol at Tom s ear. 
 
 With a face like that of a death s-head he tied the 
 knot. 
 
 Pass it round your neck and draw it tight. 
 
 Hoarse, inarticulate screams burst from the throat 
 of the man, ended by a blow on the side of his face 
 by the captain s iron-hard fist. He fell, and lay 
 quiet, while Swarth himself adjusted the noose and 
 bound the hands with his own handkerchief. The 
 men at the wheel strained their necks this way and 
 that, with tense waves of conflicting expressions flit- 
 
 100 
 
The Trade- Wind 
 
 ting across their weary faces, and the men forward, 
 aroused by the screams, stood about in anxious expect 
 ancy until they heard Swarth s roar: Lay aft here, 
 the watch ! 
 
 They came, feeling their way along by rail and 
 hatch. 
 
 Clap on to that gant-line at the main fife-rail, 
 and lift this bag of coffee out o the lazarette/ sang 
 out the captain. 
 
 They found the loose rope, tautened it, hooked the 
 bight into an open sheave in the stanchion, and list 
 lessly walked forward with it. When they had hoisted 
 the unconscious Tom to the gaff, Swarth ordered : 
 * Belay, coil up the fall, and go forrard. 
 
 They obeyed, listlessly as ever, with no wondering 
 voice raised to inquire why they had not lowered the 
 coffee they had hoisted. 
 
 Captain Swarth looked at the square-rigged ship, 
 now on the port quarter an ill-defined blur to his 
 imperfect vision. Fine chance we d have had, he 
 muttered, if that happened to be a bulldog. Angel, 
 he said, as the mate drew near, hot coffee is good for 
 moon-blindness, taken externally, as a blistering agent 
 a counter-irritant. We have no fly-blisters in the 
 medicine-chest, but smoking-hot grease must be just 
 as good, if not better than either. Have the cook 
 heat up a potful, and you get me out a nice small 
 paint-brush. 
 
 Forty- eight hours later, when the last wakening 
 vision among the twenty men had taken cognizance 
 of the grisly object aloft, the gaff was guyed outboard, 
 the rope cut at the fife-rail, and the body of Tom 
 Plate dropped, feet first, into the sea. 
 
 Then, when Captain Swarth s eyes permitted, he 
 took an observation or two, and, after a short lecture 
 to his crew on the danger of sleeping in tropic moon 
 light, shaped his course for Barbados Island, to take 
 
 101 
 
The Trade-Wind 
 
 up the burden of his battle with fate where the blind 
 ness had forced him to lay it down ; to scheme and 
 to plan, to dare and to do, to war and to destroy, 
 against the inevitable coming of the time when fate 
 should prove the stronger when he would lose in a 
 game where one must always win or die. 
 
 102 
 
SALVAGE 
 
 SHE had a large crew, abnormally large hawse-pipes, 
 and a bad reputation the last attribute born of the 
 first. Registered as the Rosebud, this innocent name 
 was painted on her stern and on her sixteen dories ; 
 but she was known among the fishing-fleet as the 
 Ishmaelite, and the name fitted her. Secretive and 
 unfriendly, she fished alone, avoided company, an 
 swered few hails, and, seldom filling her hold, dis 
 posed of her catch as her needs required, in out-of- 
 the-way ports, often as far south as Charleston. And 
 she usually left behind her such bitter memories of 
 her visit as placed the last port at the bottom of her 
 list of markets. 
 
 No ship-chandler or provision-dealer ever showed 
 her receipted bills, and not a few of them openly 
 averred that certain burglaries of their goods had 
 plausible connection with her presence in port. Be 
 this as it may, the fact stood that farmers on the 
 coast who saw her high bow and unmistakable hawse- 
 pipes when she ran in for bait invariably double- 
 locked their barns and chicken - coops, and turned 
 loose all tied dogs when night descended, often to 
 find both dogs and chickens gone in the morning. 
 
 Once, too, three small schooners had come home 
 with empty holds, and complained of the appearance, 
 while anchored in the fog, of a flotilla of dories 
 
 103 
 
Salvage 
 
 manned by masked men, who overpowered and 
 locked all hands in cabin or forecastle, and then 
 removed the cargoes of fish to their own craft, hidden 
 in the fog. Shortly after this, the Rosebud disposed 
 of a large catch in Baltimore, and the piracy was 
 believed of her, but never proved. 
 
 Her luck at finding things was remarkable. Drift 
 ing dories, spars, oars, and trawl-tubs sought her 
 unsavoury company, as though impelled by the inani 
 mate perversity which had sent them drifting. They 
 were sold in port, or returned to their owners, when 
 paid for. In the early part of her career she had 
 towed a whistling buoy into Boston and claimed 
 salvage of the Government, showing her log-book to 
 prove that she had picked it up far at sea. The 
 salvage was paid ; but, as her reputation spread, 
 there were those who declared that she herself had 
 sent the buoy adrift. 
 
 As poets and sailors believe that ships have souls, 
 it may be that she gloried in her shame, like other 
 fallen creatures ; for her large, slanting, oval hawse- 
 pipes and boot-top stripe gave a fine, Oriental sneer 
 to her face-like bow, and there was slur and insult to 
 respectable craft in the lazy dignity with which she 
 would swash through the fleet on the port tack, com 
 pelling vessels on the starboard tack to give up their 
 right of way or be rammed ; for she was a large craft, 
 and there was menace in her solid, one-piece jib- 
 boom, thick as an ordinary mainmast. An outward- 
 bound coasting-schooner, resenting this lawlessness 
 on one occasion, attempted to assert her rights, and 
 being on the lawful starboard tack, bore steadily 
 down on the Rosebud who budged not a quarter- 
 point and, losing heart at the last moment, luffed 
 up, all shaking, in just the position to allow the ring 
 of her port anchor to catch on the bill of the Rosebud s 
 starboard anchor. As her own ring-stopper and shank- 
 
 104 
 
Salvage 
 
 painter were weak, the patent windlass unlocked, and 
 the end of the cable not secured in the chain-locker, 
 the Rosebud walked calmly away with the anchor 
 and a hundred fathoms of chain, which, at the next 
 port, she sold as legitimate spoil of the sea. 
 
 As her reputation increased, so did the hatred of 
 men, while the number of ports on the coast which 
 she could safely enter became painfully small. To 
 avoid a conflict with local authority, she had hurried 
 to sea without clearing at the Custom-house from 
 Boston, Bangor, Portland, and Gloucester. She had 
 carried local authority, in the persons of distressed 
 United States marshals, to sea with her from three 
 other ports, and landed it on some outlying point 
 before the next meal-hour. With her blunt jib-boom 
 she had prodded a hole in the side of a lighthouse 
 supply-boat, and sailed away without answering ques 
 tions. The Government was taking cognizance, and 
 her description was written on the fly-leaves of several 
 revenue-cutters log-books, while Sunday newspapers 
 in the large cities began a series of special articles 
 about the mysterious schooner-rigged pirate of the 
 fishing-fleet. 
 
 The future looked dark for her, and when the time 
 came that she was chased away from Plymouth har 
 bour which she had entered for provisions by a 
 police-launch, it seemed that the end was at hand ; 
 for she had done no wrong in Plymouth, and the 
 police-boat was evidently acting on general principles 
 and instructions, which were vital enough to extend 
 the pursuit to the three-mile limit. Her trips had 
 become necessarily longer, and there was but two 
 weeks supply of food in the lazarette. The New 
 England coast was an enemy s country, but in the 
 crowded harbour of New York was a chance to lie un 
 observed at anchor long enough to secure the stores 
 she needed, which only a large city can supply. So 
 
 105 
 
Salvage 
 
 Cape Cod was doubled on the way to New York ; but 
 the brisk offshore wind, which had helped her in 
 escaping the police-boat, developed to a gale that 
 blew her to sea, and increased in force as the hours 
 passed by. 
 
 Hard-headed, reckless fellows were these men who 
 owned the Rosebud, and ran her on shares and under 
 laws of their own making. Had they been of larger, 
 broader minds, with no change of ethics, they would 
 have acquired a larger, faster craft with guns, hoisted 
 the black flag, and sailed southward to more fruitful 
 fields. Being what they were fishermen gone wrong 
 they laboured within their limitations and gleaned 
 upon known ground. 
 
 They were eighteen in number, and they typified 
 the maritime nations of the world. Americans pre 
 dominated, of course, but English, French, German, 
 Portuguese, Scandinavian, and Eussian were among 
 them. The cook was a West India negro, and the 
 captain or their nearest approach to a captain a 
 Portland Yankee. Both were large men, and held 
 their positions by reason of special knowledge and a 
 certain magnetic mastery of soul which dominated 
 the others against their rules ; for in this social 
 democracy captains and bosses were forbidden. The 
 cook was an expert in the galley and a thorough sea 
 man ; the other as able a seaman, and a navigator 
 past the criticism of the rest. 
 
 His navigation had its limits, however, and this gale 
 defined them. He could find his latitude by meridian 
 observation, and his longitude by morning sight and 
 chronometer time; his dead-reckoning was trust 
 worthy, and he possessed a fair working conception 
 of the set and force of the Atlantic currents and the 
 heave of the sea in a blow. But his studies had not 
 given him more than a rudimentary knowledge of 
 meteorology and the laws of storms. A gale was a 
 
 106 
 
Salvage 
 
 gale to him, and he knew that it would usually change 
 its direction as a clock s hands will in moving over the 
 dial ; and if, by chance, it should back around to its 
 former point, he prepared for heavier trouble, with no 
 reference to the fluctuations of the barometer, which 
 instrument to him was merely a weather-glass about 
 as valuable as a rheumatic big-toe. 
 
 So, in the case we are considering, not knowing that 
 he was caught by the southern fringe of a St. Law 
 rence Valley storm, with its centre of low barometer to 
 the north-west and coming toward him, he hove to on 
 the port tack to avoid Cape Cod, and drifted to sea, 
 shortening sail as the wind increased, until, with 
 nothing set but a small storm-mainsail, he found 
 himself in the sudden calm of the storm-centre, which 
 had overtaken him. Here, in a tumultuous cross-sea, 
 fifty miles off the shore, deceived by the light, shifty 
 airs and the patches of blue sky showing between the 
 rushing clouds, he made all sail and headed west, 
 only to have the masts whipped out as the whistling 
 fury of wind on the opposite side of the vortex caught 
 and jibbed the canvas. 
 
 It was manifestly a judgment of a displeased Provi 
 dence ; and, glad that the hull was still tight, they 
 cut away the wreck and rode out the gale now blow 
 ing out of the north hanging to the tangle of spar 
 and cordage which had once been the foremast and 
 its gear. It made a fairly good sea-anchor, with the 
 forestay strong as any chain for a cable, and she 
 lay snug under the haphazard breakwater and bene 
 fited by the protection, as the seas must first break 
 their heads over the wreckage before reaching her. 
 The main-mast was far away, with all that pertained 
 to it ; but the solid, hard-pine jib-boom was still 
 intact, and not one of the sixteen dories piled spoon- 
 fashion in the four nests had been injured when the 
 spars went by the board. So they were content to 
 
 107 
 
Salvage 
 
 smoke, sleep, and kill time as they could, until the 
 gale and sea should moderate, and they could rig a 
 jury-foremast of the wreck. 
 
 But before they could begin while there was still 
 wind enough to curl the head of an occasional sea into 
 foam a speck which had been showing on the 
 shortened horizon to windward, when the schooner 
 lifted out of the hollows, took form and identity a 
 two-masted steamer, with English colours, union 
 down, at the gaff. High out of water, her broadside 
 drift was faster than that of the dismasted craft riding 
 to her wreckage, and in a few hours she was danger 
 ously near, directly ahead, rolling heavily in the trough 
 of the sea. They could see shreds of canvas hanging 
 from masts and gaffs. 
 
 * Wunner what s wrong wid her, said the cook, as 
 he relinquished the glasses to the next man. * Amos, 
 he called to another, you ve been in the ingine-room, 
 you say. Is her ingine bus down ? 
 
 Dunno, answered Amos. * Steam s all right ; see 
 the jet comin out o the stack? There ! she s turnin 
 over kickin ahead. Bout time, if she wants to 
 clear us. She s signallin . What s that say, Elisha ? 
 
 The ensign was fluttering down, and a string of 
 small flags going aloft on the other part of the signal- 
 halyards, while the steamer, heading west, pushed 
 ahead about a length under the impulse of her pro 
 peller. Elisha, the navigator, went below, and re 
 turned with a couple of books, which he consulted. 
 
 * Her number, he said. She s the Afghan Prince, 
 o London. As the schooner carried no signal-flags, 
 he waved his sou -wester in answer, and the flags 
 came down, to be replaced by others. 
 
 Rudder carried away, he read, and then looked 
 with the glasses. Rudder seems all right ; must 
 mean his steerin -gear. Why don t they rig up 
 suthin , or a drag over the stern ? 
 
 108 
 
Salvage 
 
 * Don t know enough, said an expatriated English 
 man of the crew. * She s one o them bloomin under 
 manned tramps, run by apprentices an Thames 
 watermen. They re drivin sailors an sailin -ships 
 off the sea, blarst em ! 
 
 * Martin, said Elisha to the cook, what s the 
 matter with our bein a drag for her ? 
 
 Dead easy, if we kin git his line an he knows how 
 to rig a bridle. 
 
 We can show him, if it comes to it. What ye say, 
 boys? If we steer her into port, we re entitled to 
 salvage. She s helpless ; we re not, for we ve got a 
 jury-rig under the bows. Hello! what s he sayin 
 now? Other flags had gone aloft on the steamer, 
 which asked for the longitude. Then followed others 
 which said that the chronometer was broken. 
 
 Better n ever ! exclaimed Elisha excitedly. Can t 
 navigate ! Our chronometer s all right ; we never 
 needed it, an don t now, but it s a big help in a 
 salvage claim. What ye say ? Can t we get our helm 
 cable to him with a dory ? 
 
 Why not? They were fishermen, accustomed to 
 dory work. A short confab settled this point ; a dory 
 was thrown over, and Elisha and Amos pulled to the 
 steamer, which was now abreast, near enough for the 
 name which Elisha read to be seen plainly on the 
 stern, but not near enough for the men shouting from 
 her taffrail to make themselves heard on the schooner. 
 Elisha and Amos, in the dory, conferred with these 
 men and then returned. 
 
 Badly rattled, they reported. Tiller-ropes parted, 
 an not a man aboard can put a long splice in a wire 
 rope, an o course we said we couldn t. They ll take 
 our line, an we re to chalk up the position an the 
 course to New York. Clear case o salvage. We 
 furnish everything, an sacrifice our jury-material to 
 aid em. 
 
 109 
 
Salvage 
 
 What ll be our chance in court, I m thinkin , said 
 one doubtfully. * Hadn t we better keep out o the 
 courts? It s been takin most of our time lately. 
 
 What s the matter wi ye ? yelled Elisha. We 
 owe a few hundreds, an mebbe a fine or two ; an 
 there s anywhere from one to two hundred thousand 
 hull an cargo that we save. We ll get no less than 
 a third, mebbe more. Go lay down, Bill. 
 
 Bill subsided. They knotted four or five dory 
 rodings together, coiled the long length of rope in the 
 dory, unbent the end of their water-laid cable from 
 the anchor, and waited until the wallowing steamer 
 drifted far enough to leeward to come within the 
 steering-arc of a craft with no canvas ; then they cut 
 away the wreck, crowded forward, all hands spreading 
 coats to the breeze, and when the schooner had paid 
 off, steered her down with the wind on the quarter 
 until almost near enough to hail the steamer, where 
 they rounded to, safe in the knowledge that she could 
 not drift as fast as the other. 
 
 Away went the dory, paying out on the roding, the 
 end of which was fastened to the disconnected cable, 
 and when it had reached the steamer, a heaving-line 
 was thrown, by which the roding was hauled aboard. 
 Then the dory returned, while the steamer s men 
 hauled the cable to their stern. The bridle, two heavy 
 ropes leading from the after-winch out the opposite 
 quarter-chocks to the end of the cable, was quickly 
 rigged by the steamer s crew. 
 
 With a warning toot of the whistle she went ahead, 
 and the long tow-line swept the sea-tops, tautened 
 and creaked on the windlass-bitts, and settled down 
 to its work, while the schooner, dropping into her 
 wake, was dragged westward at a ten-knot rate. 
 
 This is bully! said Elisha gleefully. Now I ll 
 chalk out the position an give her the course 
 magnetic, to make sure. 
 
 no 
 
Salvage 
 
 He did so, and they held up in full view of the 
 steamer s bridge a large blackboard showing in six- 
 inch letters the formula : Lat. 4120. Lon. 6910. 
 Mag. Co. W. half S. 
 
 A toot of the whistle thanked them, and they watched 
 the steamer, which had been heading a little to the 
 south of this course, painfully swing her head up to 
 it by hanging the schooner to the starboard leg of the 
 bridle ; but she did not stop at west-half-south, and 
 when she pointed unmistakably as high as north 
 west, still dragging her tow by the starboard bridle, a 
 light broke on them. 
 
 * She s goin on her way with us ! said Elisha. 
 1 No, no ! she can t. She s bound for London, he 
 added. * Halifax, mebbe ! 
 
 They waved their hats to port, and shouted in 
 chorus at the steamer. They were answered by caps 
 flourished to starboard from the bridge, and out 
 stretched arms which pointed across the Atlantic 
 Ocean, while the course changed slowly to north, then 
 faster as wind and sea bore on the other bow, until 
 the steamer steadied and remained at east-by-north. 
 
 The rhumb course to the Channel ! groaned 
 Elisha wildly. * The nerve of it ! An I m supposed 
 to give the longitude every noon ! Why, dammit, 
 boys, they ll claim they rescued us, an like as not 
 the English courts 11 allow them salvage on our little 
 tub! 
 
 Let go the tow-line! Let em go to h 1 ! they 
 shouted angrily ; and some started forward, but were 
 stopped by the cook. His eyes gleamed in his black 
 face, and his voice was a little higher pitched than 
 usual, otherwise he was the steadiest man there. 
 
 We ll hang right on to our bran-new cable, men, 
 he said. It s ours, not theirs. Course we kin turn 
 her adrif ag in, an be wuss off, too ; we can t find de 
 foremast now. But dat ain t de bes way. John, he 
 
 in 
 
Salvage 
 
 called to the Englishman of the crew, how many 
 men do you country tramp steamers carry? 
 
 John computed mentally, then muttered : Two 
 mates, six ash-cats,* two flunkies, two quartermasters, 
 watchman, deck-hands oh, bout sixteen or seven 
 teen, Martin. 
 
 Boys, le s man de win lass ! We ll heave in on 
 our cable, an if we kin git close enough to climb 
 aboard, we ll reason it out wid dat English cappen, 
 who can t fin his way roun alone widout stealin little 
 fishin -schooners. 
 
 * Eight ! they yelled. Man the windlass ! We ll 
 show the lime-juice thief who s doin this ! 
 
 * Amos, said Martin to the ex-engineer, you try 
 an member all you forgot bout ingines, in case any 
 thing happens to de crew o dat steamer ; an , Elisha, 
 you want to keep good track o where we go, so s you 
 kin find you way back. 
 
 I ll get the chronometer on deck now. I can take 
 sight alone. 
 
 They took the cable to the windlass-barrel and 
 began to heave. It was hard work equal to heaving 
 an anchor against a strong head wind and ten-knot 
 tideway and only half the crew could find room on 
 the windlass-brakes ; so, while the first shift laboured 
 and swore and encouraged one another, the rest 
 watched the approach of a small tug towing a couple 
 of scows, which seemed to have arisen out of the sea 
 ahead of them. When the steamer was nearly upon 
 her, she let go her tow-line and ranged up alongside, 
 while a man leaning out of the pilot-house gesticulated 
 to the steamer s bridge and finally shook his fist. 
 Then the tug dropped abreast of the schooner. She 
 was a dingy little boat, the biggest and brightest of 
 her fittings being the name-board on her pilot-house, 
 
 * Engineers and firemen. 
 112 
 
Salvage 
 
 which spelt in large gilt letters the appellation 
 J. C. Hawks. 
 
 * Say, yelled her captain from his door, I m blown 
 out wi my barges short o grub an water ! Can you 
 gi me some? That lime-juice sucker ahead won t. 
 
 Can you tow us to New York ? asked Elisha, who 
 had brought up the chronometer and placed it on the 
 house, ready to take morning sights for his longitude 
 if the sun should appear. 
 
 * No ; not unless I sacrifice the barges an lose my 
 contract wi the city. They re garbage-scows, an I 
 haven t power enough to hook another just got coal 
 enough to get in. 
 
 * An what do you call this a garbage-scow? 
 answered Elisha ill-naturedly. We ve got no grub 
 or water to spare. We ve got troubles of our own. 
 
 Dammit, man, we re thirsty here ! Give us a 
 breaker o water. Throw it overboard ; I ll get it. 
 
 * No ; told you we have none to spare ; an we re 
 bein yanked out to sea. 
 
 Well, gi me a bottleful ; that won t hurt you. 
 
 No ; sheer off ! Git out o this ! We re not in the 
 Samaritan business. 
 
 A forceful malediction came from the tug captain, 
 and a whirling monkey-wrench from the hand of the 
 engineer, who had listened from the engine-room door. 
 It struck Elisha s chronometer and knocked it off the 
 house, box and all, into the sea. He answered the 
 profanity in kind, and sent an iron belay ing-pin at 
 the engineer ; but it only dented the tug s rail, and 
 with these compliments the two craft separated, the 
 tug steaming back to her scows. 
 
 That lessens our chance just so much, growled 
 Elisha, as he joined the rest. Now we can t do all 
 we agreed to. 
 
 1 Keep dead-reckonin , Lisha, said Martin ; dat s 
 good nough for us ; an , say, can t you take sights 
 
 113 i 
 
Salvage 
 
 by a watch jess for a bluff, to show in de log 
 book? 
 
 1 Might ; t wouldn t be reliable. Good enough, 
 though, for log-book testimony. That s what I ll 
 do. 
 
 Inch by inch they gathered in their cable and coiled 
 it down, unmoved by the protesting toots of the 
 steamer s whistle. When half of it lay on the deck, 
 the steamer slowed down, while her crew worked at 
 their end of the rope ; then she went ahead, the 
 schooner dropped back to nearly the original distance, 
 and they saw a long stretch of new Manila hawser 
 leading out from the bridle and knotted to their cable. 
 They cursed and shook their fists, but pumped man 
 fully on the windlass, and by nightfall had brought 
 the knot over their bows by means of a messenger, 
 and were heaving on the new hawser. 
 
 Weakens our case just that much more, growled 
 Elisha. * We were to furnish the tow-line. 
 
 Heave away, my boys ! said Martin. Dey s only 
 so many ropes aboard her, an when we get em all 
 we ve got dat boat an dem men. 
 
 So they warped their craft across the Western 
 Ocean. Knot after knot, hawser after hawser, came 
 over the bows and cumbered the deck. 
 
 They would have passed them over the stern as fast 
 as they came in were they not salvors with litigation 
 ahead ; for their hands must be clean when they 
 entered their claim, and to this end Elisha chalked 
 out the longitude daily at noon and showed it to the 
 steamer, always receiving a thankful acknowledgment 
 on the whistle. He secured the figures by his dead- 
 reckoning ; but the carefully-kept log-book also showed 
 longitude by chronometer sights, taken when the sun 
 shone, with his old quadrant and older watch, and 
 corrected to bring a result plausibly near to that of 
 reckoning by log and compass. But the log-book 
 
 114 
 
Salvage 
 
 contained no reference to the loss of the chronometer. 
 That was to happen at the last. 
 
 On stormy days, when the sea rose, they dared not 
 shorten their tow-line, and the steamer-folk made 
 sure that it was long enough to eliminate the risk of 
 its parting. So these days were passed in idleness 
 and profanity; and when the sea went down they 
 would go to work, hoping that the last tow-line was in 
 their hands. But it was not until the steamer had 
 given them three Manila and two steel hawsers, four 
 weak too weak mooring chains, and a couple of old 
 and frayed warping-lines, that the coming up to the 
 bow of an anchor-chain of six-inch link told them 
 that the end was near, that the steamer had exhausted 
 her supply of tow-lines, and that her presumably sane 
 skipper would not give them his last means of anchor 
 ing the other chain. 
 
 They were right. Either for this reason or because 
 of the proximity to English bottom the steamer ceased 
 her coyness, and her crew watched from the taffrail. 
 while those implacable, purposeful men behind crept 
 up to them. It was slow, laborious work ; for the 
 small windlass would not grip the heavy links of the 
 chain, and they must needs climb out a few fathoms, 
 making fast messengers to heave on, while the idle 
 half of them gathered in the slackened links by hand. 
 
 On a calm, still night they finally unshipped the 
 windlass-brakes and looked up at the round, black 
 stern of the steamer not fifty feet ahead. They were 
 surrounded by lights of outgoing and incoming craft, 
 and they knew by soundings taken that day, when the 
 steamer had slowed down for the same purpose, that 
 they were within the hundred-fathom curve, close to 
 the mouth of the Channel, but not within the three- 
 mile limit. Kejoicing at the latter fact, they armed 
 themselves to a man with belaying-pins from their still 
 intact pin-rails, and climbed out on the cable, the whole 
 
 115 i 2 
 
Salvage 
 
 eighteen of them, man following man, in close climb 
 ing order. 
 
 * Now, look here, said a portly man with a gilt- 
 bound cap to the leader of the line, as he threw a leg 
 over the taffrail, what s the meaning, may I ask, of 
 this unreasonable conduct ? 
 
 * You may ask, of course, said the man it was 
 Elisha * but we d like to ask something, too (he was 
 sparring for time until more should arrive) ; we d 
 like to ask why you drag us across the Atlantic Ocean 
 against our will ? 
 
 Another man climbed aboard, and said : 
 
 Yes ; we J gree to steer you into New York. You s 
 adrif in de trough of de sea, an you got no chrono 
 meter, an you can t navigate, an we come long 
 under command, mind you an give you our tow- 
 line, an tell you de road to port. Wha you mean 
 by dis? 
 
 Tut, tut, my coloured friend! answered the man 
 of gilt. * You were dismasted and helpless, and I gave 
 you a tow. It was on the high seas, and I chose the 
 port, as I had the right. 
 
 Another climbed on board. 
 
 * We were not helpless, rejoined Elisha. We had 
 a good jury-rig under the bows, and we let it go to 
 assist you. Are you the skipper here ? 
 
 I am. 
 
 Martin s big fist smote him heavily in the face, and 
 the blow was followed by the crash of Elisha s belay- 
 ing-pin on his head. The captain fell, and for a while 
 lay quiet. There were four big, strong men over the 
 rail now, and others coming. Opposing them were a 
 second mate, an engineer, a fireman, a coal-passer, 
 watchman, steward, and cook easy victims to these 
 big-limbed fishermen. The rest of the crew were on 
 duty below decks or at the steering-winch. It was a 
 short, sharp battle ; a few pistols exploded, but no one 
 
 116 
 
Salvage 
 
 was hurt, and the firearms were captured and their 
 owners well hammered with belaying - pins ; then, 
 binding all victims as they overcame them, the whole 
 party raided the steering-winch and engine-room, and 
 the piracy was complete. 
 
 But from their standpoint it was not piracy it was 
 resistance to piracy and when Amos, the ex-engineer, 
 had stopped the engines and banked the fires, they 
 announced to the captives bound to the rail that, with 
 all due respect for the law, national and international, 
 they would take that distressed steamboat into New 
 York and deliver her to the authorities, with a claim 
 for salvage. The bargain had been made on the 
 American coast, and their log-book not only attested 
 this, but the well-doing of their part of the contract. 
 
 When the infuriated English captain, now recovered, 
 had exhausted his stock of adjectives and epithets, he 
 informed them (and he was backed by his steward 
 and engineer) that there was neither food nor coal for 
 the run to New York ; to which Elisha replied that, 
 if so, the foolish and destructive waste would be pro 
 perly entered in the log-book, and might form the 
 basis of a charge of barratry by the underwriters, if it 
 turned out that any underwriters had taken a risk on 
 a craft with such an all-fired lunatic for a skipper 
 as this. But they would go back ; they might be 
 forced to burn some of the woodwork fittings (her 
 decks were of iron) for fuel, and as for food, though 
 their own supply of groceries was about exhausted, 
 there were several cubic yards of salt codfish in the 
 schooner s hold, and this they would eat : they were 
 used to it themselves, and science had declared that 
 it was good brain-food good for feeble-minded Eng 
 lishmen who couldn t splice wire nor take care of a 
 chronometer. 
 
 Before starting back they made some preliminary 
 and precautionary preparations. While Martin in- 
 
 117 
 
Salvage 
 
 ventoried the stores and Amos the coal- supply, the 
 others towed the schooner alongside and moored her. 
 Then they shackled the schooner s end of the chain- 
 cable around the inner barrel of the windlass and 
 riveted the key of the shackle. They transhipped 
 their clothing and what was left of the provisions. 
 They also took the log-book and charts, compass, 
 empty outer chronometer-case which Elisha handled 
 tenderly and officiously by its strap in full view of the 
 captives windlass-brakes, tool-chest, deck-tools, axes, 
 handspikes, heavers, boat-hooks, belaying-pins, and 
 everything in the shape of weapon or missile by which 
 disgruntled Englishmen could do harm to the schooner 
 or their rescuers. 
 
 Then they passed the rescued ones down to the 
 schooner, and Martin told them where they would 
 find the iron kettle for boiling codfish, with the 
 additional information that with skill and ingenuity 
 they could make fish-balls in the same kettle. 
 
 Martin had reported a plenitude of provisions, and 
 anathematized the lying captain and steward ; and 
 Amos had declared his belief that with careful 
 economy in the use of coal they could steam to the 
 American coast with the supply in the bunkers : so 
 they did not take any of the codfish ; and the hawsers, 
 valuable as fuel in case of a shortage, were left where 
 they would be more valuable as evidence against the 
 lawless, incompetent Englishmen. And they also left 
 the dories, all but one, for reasons in Elisha s mind 
 which he did not state at the time. 
 
 They removed the bonds of one man who could 
 release the others and cast off the fastenings ; then, 
 with Amos and a picked crew of pupils in the boat s 
 vitals, they went ahead and dropped the prison-hulk 
 back to the full length of the chain, while the furious 
 curses of the prisoners troubled the air. They found 
 a little difficulty in steering by the winch and deck- 
 
 118 
 
Salvage 
 
 compass (they would have mended the tiller-ropes 
 with a section of backstay had they not bargained 
 otherwise), but finally mastered the knack, and 
 headed westerly. 
 
 You cannot take an Englishman s ship from under 
 him homeward bound and close to port and drag 
 him to sea again on a diet of salt codfish without 
 impinging on his sanity. When day broke they 
 looked and saw the hawsers slipping over the 
 schooner s rail, and afterwards a fountain of fish 
 arising from her hatches to follow the hawsers over 
 board. 
 
 What s de game, I wunner ? asked Martin. 
 Tryin to starve deyselves ? 
 
 Dunno, answered Elisha, with a serious expres 
 sion. They re not doin it for nothin . They re 
 wavin their hats at us. Somethin on their minds. 
 
 We ll jes let em wave. We ll go long bout our 
 business. 
 
 So they went at eight knots an hour ; for, try as 
 he might, Amos could get no more out of the engine. 
 * She s a divil to chew up coal! he explained; we 
 may have to burn the boat yet. 
 
 Hope not, said Elisha. Tween you an me, 
 Amos, this is a desperate bluff we re makin , an if we 
 go to destroyin property we may get no credit for 
 savin it. We d have no chance in the English courts 
 at all, but it s likely an American judge "ud recognise 
 our original position our bargain to steer her in. 
 
 Too bad bout that tarred cable of ours, rejoined 
 Amos ; three days good fuel in that, I calculate. 
 
 Well, it s gone with the codfish, and the fact is 
 properly entered in the log as barratrous conduct on 
 the part of the skipper enough to prove him insane. 
 
 And further to strengthen this possible aspect of 
 the case, Elisha found a blank space on the leaf of 
 the log-book which recorded the first meeting and 
 
 119 
 
Salvage 
 
 bargain to tow, and filled it with the potential 
 sentence: Steamer s commander acts strangely. For 
 a well-kept log-book is excellent testimony in court. 
 
 Elisha s knowledge of navigation did not enable 
 him to project a course on the great circle the 
 shortest track between two points on the earth s 
 surface, and the route taken by steamers. But he 
 possessed a fairly practical and ingenious mind, and 
 with a flexible steel straight-edge rule, and a class 
 room globe in the skipper s room, laid out his course 
 between the lane-routes of the liners which he would 
 need to vary daily as it was not wise to court investi 
 gation. But he signalled to two passing steamships 
 for Greenwich time, and set his watch, obtaining its 
 rate of correction by the second favour; and with 
 this and his surely correct latitude by meridian 
 observation he hoped to make an accurate landfall 
 in home waters. 
 
 And so the hours went by, with their captives 
 waving caps ceaselessly, until the third day s sun 
 arose to show them an empty deck on the schooner, 
 over a dozen specks far astern and to the southward, 
 and an east-bound steamship on their port bow. The 
 specks could be nothing but the dories, and they were 
 evidently trying to intercept the steamship. Elisha 
 yelled in delight. 
 
 1 They ve abandoned ship just what I hoped for 
 in the dories. They ve no case at all now. 
 
 * But what for, Elisha ? asked Martin. Mus be 
 hungry, I t ink. 
 
 Mebbe, or else they think that liner, who can stop 
 only to save life carries the mails, you see will 
 turn round and put em in charge here. Why, 
 nothin but an English man-o -war could do that 
 now. 
 
 They saw the steamship slow down, while the black 
 specks flocked up to her, and then go on her way. 
 
 120 
 
Salvage 
 
 And they went on theirs ; but three days later they 
 had reasoned out a better explanation of the English 
 men s conduct. Martin came on deck with a worried 
 face, and announced that, running short of salt meat 
 in the harness-cask, he had broken out the barrels of 
 beef, pork, and hard bread that he had counted upon, 
 and found their contents absolutely uneatable, far 
 gone in putrescence, alive with crawling things. 
 
 * Must ha thought he was fitting out a Yankee 
 hell-ship when he bought this, said Elisha in disgust, 
 as he looked into the ill- smelling barrels. Overboard 
 with it, boys ! 
 
 Overboard went the provisions, for starving animals 
 could not eat of them, and the odour permeated the 
 ship. They resigned themselves to a gloomy outlook 
 gloomier when Amos reported that the coal in the 
 bunkers would last but two days longer. He had 
 been mistaken, he said ; he had calculated to run 
 compound engines with Scotch boilers, not a full- 
 powered blast-furnace with six inches of scale on the 
 crown-sheets. 
 
 And they knew this, groaned Elisha. That s 
 why they chucked the stuff overboard to bring us to 
 terms, and never thinkin they d starve first. They 
 were dead luny, but we re lunier. 
 
 They stopped the engines and visited the schooner 
 in the dory. Not a scrap of food was there, and the 
 fish-kettle was scraped bright. They returned and 
 went on. With plenty of coal there was still six days 
 run ahead to New York. How many with wood fuel, 
 chopped on empty stomachs and burned in coal- 
 furnaces, they could not guess. But they went to 
 work. There were three axes, two top-mauls, and 
 several handspikes and pinch-bars aboard, and with 
 these they attacked bulkheads and spare woodwork, 
 and fed the fires with the fragments ; for a glance 
 down the hatches had shown them nothing more 
 
 121 
 
Salvage 
 
 combustible and detachable in the cargo than a few 
 layers of railroad iron, which covered and blocked the 
 openings to the lower hold. 
 
 With the tools at hand they could not supply the 
 rapacious fires fast enough to keep up steam, and the 
 engines slowed to a five-knot rate. As this would not 
 maintain a sufficient tension on the dragging schooner 
 to steer by, they were forced to sacrifice the best item 
 in their claim for salvage : they spliced the tiller-ropes 
 and steered from the pilot-house. They would have 
 sacrificed the schooner, too, for Amos complained 
 bitterly of the load on the engines ; but Elisha would 
 not hear of it. She was the last evidence in their 
 favour now, their last connection with respect 
 ability. 
 
 She and the pavement o h 1, he growled fiercely, 
 * are all we ve got to back us up ! Without proof we re 
 pirates under the law. 
 
 However, he made no entry in the log of the 
 splicing, trusting that a chance would come in port 
 to remove the section of wire rope with which they 
 had joined the broken ends. 
 
 And, indeed, it seemed that their claim was 
 dwindling. The chronometer which they were to 
 use for the steamer s benefit was lost ; the tow-line 
 which they were to furnish had been given back to 
 them; the course to New York which they chalked 
 out had not been accepted ; the abandoning of their 
 ship by the Englishmen was clearly enforced by the 
 pressure of their own presence ; and now they them 
 selves had been forced to cancel from the claim the 
 schooner s value, as a necessary drag behind the 
 steamer, by substituting a three hours splicing- job, 
 worth five dollars in a rigging-loft, and possibly fifty 
 if bargained for at sea. Nothing was left them now 
 but their good intentions, duly entered in the log 
 book. 
 
 122 
 
Salvage 
 
 But fate, and the stupid understanding of some one 
 or two of them, decreed that their good intentions also 
 should be taken from them. The log-book disappeared, 
 and, the strictest search failing to bring it to light, 
 the conclusion was reached that it had been fed to 
 the fires among the wreckage of the skipper s room 
 and furniture. They blasphemed to the extent that 
 the occasion required, and there was civil war for a 
 time, while the suspected ones were being punished ; 
 then they drew what remaining comfort they could 
 from burning the steamer s log-book and track-chart, 
 which contained data conflicting with their position in 
 the case, and resumed their labours. 
 
 Martin had raked and scraped together enough of 
 food to give them two scant meals, but, these eaten, 
 starvation began. The details of their suffering need 
 not be given. They chopped, hammered, and pried 
 in hunger and anxiety, and with lessening strength, 
 while the days passed by fortunately spared the 
 torture of thirst, for there was plenty of water in 
 the tanks. Upheld by the dominating influence of 
 Elisha, Martin, and Amos, they stripped the upper 
 works and fed to the fires every door and sash, every 
 bulkhead and wooden partition, all chairs, stools, and 
 tables, cabin berths and forecastle bunks. Then they 
 attempted sending down the top-masts, but gave it up 
 for lack of strength to get mast-ropes aloft, and attacked 
 instead the boats on the chocks, of which there were 
 four. 
 
 It was no part of the plan to ask help of passing 
 craft, and have their distressed condition taken ad 
 vantage of ; but when the hopelessness of the fight 
 at last appealed to the master spirits, they consented 
 to the signalling of an east-bound steamer, far to the 
 northward, in the hope of getting food. So the 
 English ensign, union down, was again flown from 
 the gaff. It was at a time when Elisha could not 
 
 123 
 
Salvage 
 
 stand up at the wheel, when Amos at the engines 
 could not have reversed them, when Martin man of 
 iron staggered weakly around among the rest and 
 struck them with a pump-brake, keeping them at 
 work. (They would strive under the blows, and sit 
 down when he had passed.) But the flag was not 
 seen ; a haze arose between the two craft and thick 
 ened to fog. 
 
 By Elisha s reckoning they were on the Banks 
 now, about a hundred miles due south from Cape 
 Sable, and nearer to Boston than to Halifax ; other 
 wise he might have made for the latter port, and 
 defied alien prejudice. But the fog continued, and 
 it was not port they were looking for now; it was 
 help, food ; they were working for life, not salvage ; 
 and, wasting no steam, they listened for whistles 
 or fog-horns, but heard none near enough to be 
 answered by their weak voices. 
 
 And so the boat, dragging the dismal mockery 
 behind her, plodded and groped her way on the 
 course which Elisha had shaped for Boston, while 
 man after man dropped in his tracks, refusing to 
 rise ; and those that were left nourished the fires 
 as they could, until the afternoon of the third day 
 of fog, when the thumping, struggling engines halted, 
 started, made a half-revolution, and came to a dead 
 stop. Amos crawled on deck and forward to the 
 bridge, where, with Elisha s help, he dragged on 
 the whistle-rope, and dissipated the remaining steam 
 in a wheezy, gasping howl, which lasted about a half- 
 minute. It was answered by a furious siren-blast 
 from directly astern, and out of the fog, at twenty 
 knots an hour, came a mammoth black steamer. 
 Seeming to heave the small tramp out of the way 
 with her bow wave, she roared by at six feet distance, 
 and in ten seconds they were looking at her vanishing 
 stern. But ten minutes later the stern appeared in 
 
 124 
 
Salvage 
 
 view, as the liner backed toward them. The reversed 
 English ensign still hung at the gaff; and the starving 
 men, some prostrate on the deck, some clinging to 
 the rails, unable to shout, had pointed to the flag 
 of distress and beckoned as the big ship rushed 
 
 by. 
 
 There s a chance, said the captain of this liner to 
 the pilot, as he rejoined him on the bridge an hour 
 later, of international complications over this case, 
 and I may have to lose a trip to testify. That s the 
 Afghan Prince and consort that I was telling you 
 about. Strange, isn t it, that I should pick up these 
 fellows after picking up the legitimate crew going 
 east? I don t know which crew was the hungriest. 
 The real crew charge this crowd with piracy. By 
 George, it s rather funny ! 
 
 And these men, said the pilot, with a laugh, 
 would have claimed salvage ? 
 
 Yes, and had a good claim, too, for effort expended ; 
 but they ve offset it by their violence. Their chance 
 was good in the English courts, if they d only allowed 
 the steamer to go on ; and then, too, they abandoned 
 her in a more dangerous position than where they 
 found her. You see, they met her off Nantucket 
 with sea-room, and nothing wrong with her but 
 broken tiller-ropes, and they quit her here close to 
 Sandy Hook, in a fog, more than likely to hit the 
 beach before morning. Then, in that case, she 
 belongs to the owners or underwriters. 
 
 Why didn t they make Boston ? asked the 
 pilot. 
 
 Tried to, but overran their distance. Chrono 
 meter must have been way out. I talked to the 
 one who navigated, and found that he d never thought 
 of allowing for local attraction didn t happen to run 
 against the boat s deviation table and so, with all 
 
 125 
 
Salvage 
 
 that railway iron below hatches, he fetched clear o 
 Nantucket, and way in here. 
 
 That s tough. The salvage of that steamer would 
 make them rich, wouldn t it ? And I think they 
 might have got it if they could have held out. 
 
 Yes ; think they might. But here s another funny 
 thing about it. They needn t have starved ; they 
 needn t have chopped her to pieces for fuel. I just 
 remember now. Her skipper told me there was good 
 anthracite coal in her hold, and Chicago canned meats, 
 Minnesota flour, beef, pork, and all sorts of good grub. 
 He carried some of the rails in the tween-deck for 
 steadying ballast, and I suppose it prevented them 
 looking farther. And now they ll lose their salvage, 
 and perhaps have to pay it on their own schooner 
 if anything comes along and picks them up. That s 
 the craft that ll get the salvage. 
 
 Not likely, said the pilot ; not in this fog, and 
 the wind and sea rising. I ll give em six hours to 
 fetch up on the Jersey coast. A mail contract with 
 the government is sometimes a nuisance, isn t it, 
 captain? How many years would it take you to 
 save money to equal your share of the salvage if 
 you had yanked that tramp and the schooner into 
 New York? 
 
 It would take more than one lifetime, answered 
 the captain, a little sadly. * A skipper on a mail- 
 boat is the biggest fool that goes to sea ! 
 
 The liner did not reach quarantine until after sun 
 down, hence remained there through the night. As 
 she was lifting her anchor in the morning, prepara 
 tory to steaming up to her dock, the crew of the 
 Rosebud, refreshed by food and sleep, but still weak 
 and nerveless, came on deck to witness a harrowing 
 sight. The Afghan Prince was coming toward the 
 anchorage before a brisk south-east wind. Astern 
 of her, held by the heavy iron chain, was their 
 
 126 
 
Salvage 
 
 schooner. Moored to her, one on each side, were 
 two garbage-scows, and at the head of the parade, 
 pretending to tow them all puffing, rolling, and 
 smoking in the effort to keep a strain on the tow- 
 line and tooting joyously with her whistle, was a 
 little, dingy tugboat, with a large gilt name on her 
 pilot-house J. C. Hawks. 
 
 127 
 
BETWEEN THE MILLSTONES 
 
 HE stood before the recruiting-officer, trembling with 
 nervousness, anxious of face, and clothed in rags ; 
 but he was clean, for knowing the moral effect of 
 cleanliness, he had lately sought the beach and taken 
 a swim. 
 
 Want to enlist ? asked the officer, taking his 
 measure with trained eye. 
 
 Yes, sir ; I read you wanted men in the navy. 
 
 Want seamen, firemen, and landsmen. What s 
 your occupation? You look like a tramp. 
 
 Yes, he answered bitterly, I m a tramp. That s 
 all they d let me be. I used to be a locomotive 
 engineer before the big strike. Then they black 
 listed me, and I ve never had a job above labourin 
 work since. It s easy to take to the road and stay at 
 it when you find you can t make over a dollar a day 
 at back-breakin work, after earnin three and four at 
 the throttle. An engineer knows nothin but his trade, 
 sir. Take it away, and he s a labourin man. 
 
 1 I d ha worked and learned another, but they 
 gaoled me put me in choky, cause I had no visible 
 means o support. I had no money, and was a 
 criminal under the law. And they kept at it jailed 
 me again and again as a vagrant when all I wanted 
 was work. After a while I didn t care. But now s 
 my chance, sir, if you ll take me on. I don t know 
 
 128 
 
Between the Millstones 
 
 much about boats and the sea, but I can fire an 
 engine, and know something about steam. 
 
 * A fireman s work on board a war-vessel is very 
 different from that of a locomotive fireman, said the 
 officer, leaning back in his chair. 
 
 I know, sir; that may be, the tramp replied 
 eagerly ; but I can shovel coal, and I can learn, and 
 I can work. I m not very strong now, cause I haven t 
 had much to eat o late years ; but I m not a drinkin 
 man why, that costs more than grub. Give me a 
 chance, sir ; I m an American ; I m sick o bein 
 hunted from gaol to gaol, like a wild animal, just cause 
 I can t be satisfied with pick-and-shovel work. I ve 
 spent half o the last five years in gaol as a vagrant. 
 I put in a month at Fernandina, and then I was chased 
 out o town. They gave me two months at Cedar 
 Keys, and I came here, only to get a month more in 
 this gaol. I got out this mornin , and was told by the 
 copper who pinched me to get out o Pensacola or he d 
 run me in again. And he s outside now, waitin for 
 me. I dodged past im to get in. 
 
 Pass this man in to the surgeon, said the officer, 
 with something like a sympathetic snort in the tone 
 of his voice ; for he also was an American. 
 
 An orderly escorted him to the surgeon, who ex 
 amined him and passed him. Then the recruit signed 
 his name to a paper. 
 
 * Emaciated, wrote the surgeon in his daily report ; 
 * body badly nourished, and susceptible to any infec 
 tion. Shows slight febrile symptoms, which should 
 be attended to. An intelligent man ; with good food 
 and care will become valuable. 
 
 The tramp marched to the receiving-ship with a 
 squad of other recruits, and on the way smiled trium 
 phantly into the face of a mulatto policeman, who 
 glared at him. He had signed his name on a piece of 
 paper, and the act had changed his status. From a 
 
 129 K 
 
Between the Millstones 
 
 hunted fugitive and habitual criminal he had become 
 a defender of his country s honour a potential hero. 
 
 On board the receiving-ship he was given an outfit 
 of clothes and bedding ; but before he had learned 
 more than the correct way to lash his hammock and 
 tie his silk neckerchief he was detailed for sea duty, 
 and with a draft of men went to Key West in a navy- 
 yard tug; for war was on, and the fleet blockading 
 Havana needed men. 
 
 At Key West he was appointed fireman on a torpedo- 
 boat, where his work which he soon learned was to 
 keep up steam in a tubular boiler. But he learned 
 nothing of the rest of the boat, her business, or the 
 reason of her construction. Sea-sickness prevented 
 any assertion of curiosity at first, and later the febrile 
 symptoms which the examining surgeon had noted 
 developed in him until he could think of nothing else. 
 There being no doctor aboard to diagnose his case, he 
 was jeered by his fellows, and kept at work until he 
 dropped ; then he took to his hammock. Shooting 
 pains darted through him, centring in his head, 
 while his throat was dry and his thirst tormenting. 
 
 Life on a torpedo-boat engaged in despatch duty 
 and rushing through a Gulf Stream sea at thirty 
 knots is torture to a healthy nervous system. It 
 sent this sick man into speedy delirium. He could 
 eat very little, but he drank all the water that was 
 given him. Moaning and muttering, tossing about in 
 his hammock, never asleep, but sometimes unconscious, 
 at other times raving, and occasionally lucid, he pre 
 sented a problem which demanded solution. His 
 emaciated face, flushed at first, had taken on a peculiar 
 bronzed appearance, and there were some who declared 
 that it was Yellow Jack. But nothing could be done 
 until they reached the fleet, and could interview a 
 cruiser with a surgeon. 
 
 The sick man solved the problem. He scrambled 
 130 
 
Between the Millstones 
 
 out of his hammock at daylight in the morning, and 
 dressed himself in his blue uniform, carefully tying 
 his black neckerchief in the regulation knot. Then, 
 muttering the while, he gained the deck. 
 
 The boat was charging along at full speed, throwing 
 aside a bow wave nearly as high as herself. Three 
 miles astern, just discernible in the half-light, was a 
 pursuing ram-bowed gunboat, spitting shot and shell ; 
 and forward near the conning-tower were two blue- 
 coated, brass-buttoned officers, watching the pursuer 
 through binoculars. 
 
 The crazed brain of the sick man took cognizance 
 of nothing but the blue coats and brass buttons. He 
 did not look for locust clubs and silver shields. These 
 were policemen his deadliest enemies ; but he would 
 escape them this time. 
 
 With a yell he went overboard, and, being no 
 swimmer, would have drowned had not one of the 
 blue-coated officers flung a life-buoy. He came to 
 the surface somewhat saner, and seized the white 
 ring, which supported him, while the torpedo-boat 
 rushed on. She could not stop for one man in time 
 of war, with a heavily-armed enemy so near. 
 
 A twenty-knot gunboat cannot chase a thirty-knot 
 torpedo-boat very long without losing her below the 
 horizon ; but this pursuit lasted ten minutes from the 
 time the sick man went overboard before the gunboat 
 ceased firing and slackened speed. The quarry was 
 five miles away, out of Spanish range, and the floating 
 man directly under her bow. He was seen and taken 
 on board, with Spanish profanity sounding in his un- 
 regarding ears. 
 
 He lay on the deck, a bedraggled heap, gibbering 
 and shivering, while a surgeon, with cotton in his 
 nostrils and smelling-salts in his hand, diagnosed his 
 case. Then the gunboat headed north, and dropped 
 anchor in the bight of a small, crescent-shaped sand- 
 
 131 K 2 
 
Between the Millstones 
 
 key of the Florida Eeef. For the diagnosis was such 
 as to suggest prompt action. Two brave men bundled 
 him into the dinghy, lowered it, pulled ashore, and 
 laid him on the sand. 
 
 Keturning, they stripped and threw away their 
 clothing, sank the boat with a buoy on a painter, took 
 a swim, and climbed aboard to be further disinfected. 
 Then the gunboat lifted her anchor and steamed east 
 ward, her officers watching through glasses a small, 
 low torpedo-boat, far to the south-east too far to be 
 reached by gun-fire which was steering a parallel 
 course, and presumably watching the gunboat. 
 
 An idiot, a lunatic, with bloodshot eyes glaring from 
 a yellow face, raved, rolled, and staggered bareheaded 
 under the sun about the sandy crescent until sundown, 
 then fell prostrate and unconscious into the water on 
 the beach, luckily turning over so that his nostrils 
 were not immersed. The tide went down, leaving 
 him damp and still on the sands. In about an hour 
 a sigh, followed by a deep, gasping breath, escaped 
 him ; another long inhalation succeeded, and another ; 
 then came steady, healthy breathing and childlike 
 sleep, with perspiration oozing from every pore. He 
 had passed a crisis. 
 
 About midnight the cloudy sky cleared and the 
 tropic stars came out, while the tide climbed the beach 
 again, and lapped at the sleeping man s feet ; but he 
 did not waken, even when the Spanish gunboat stole 
 slowly into the bay from the sea and dropped anchor 
 with a loud rattling of chain in the hawse-pipe. A 
 boat was lowered, and a single man sculled it ashore ; 
 then lifting out a small cask and bag, he placed them 
 high on the sands and looked around. 
 
 Spying the sleeping man, half immersed now, he 
 approached and felt of the damp clothing and equally 
 damp face. Not noticing that he breathed softly, the 
 man crossed himself, then moved quickly and nervously 
 
 132 
 
Between the Millstones 
 
 toward his boat, muttering, Muerto, muerto ! Push 
 ing out, he sculled rapidly toward the anchored craft, 
 and disposed of the boat and his clothing as had been 
 done before ; then he swam to the gangway and 
 climbed aboard. 
 
 Shortly after, the sleeping man, roused by the chill 
 of the water, crawled aimlessly up the sand and slept 
 again safe beyond the tide-line. In three hours he 
 sat up and rubbed his eyes, half awake, but sane. 
 
 Strange sights and sounds puzzled him. He knew 
 nothing of this starlit beach and stretch of sparkling 
 water nothing of that long black craft at anchor, 
 with the longer beam of white light reaching over the 
 sea from her pilot-house. He could only surmise that 
 she was a war- vessel from the ram-bow a feature of 
 the Government model which had impressed him at 
 Key West and from the noise she was making. She 
 quivered in a maze of flickering red flashes, and the 
 rattling din of her rapid-fire and machine-guns tran 
 scended in volume all the roadside blastings he had 
 heard in his wanderings. Dazed and astonished, he 
 rose to his feet, but, too weak to stand, sat down again 
 and looked. 
 
 Half a mile seaward, where the beam of light ended, 
 a small craft, low down between two crested waves, 
 was speeding toward the gunboat in the face of her 
 fire. The water about her was lashed into turmoil by 
 the hail of projectiles ; but she kept on, at locomotive 
 speed, until within a thousand feet of the gunboat, 
 when she turned sharply to starboard, doubled on her 
 track, and raced off to sea, still covered by the search 
 light and followed by shot and shell while the gunners 
 could see her. 
 
 When the gun-fire ceased, a hissing of steam could 
 be heard in the distance, and a triumphant Spanish 
 yell answered. The small enemy had been struck, 
 and the gunboat slipped her cable and followed. 
 
 133 
 
Between the Millstones 
 
 The tired brain could not cope with the problem, 
 and again the man slept, to awaken at sunrise with 
 ravenous hunger and thirst, and a memory of what 
 seemed to be horrible dreams vague recollections of 
 painful experiences torturing labour with aching 
 muscles and blistered hands ; harsh words and ridicule 
 from strong, bearded men ; and running through and 
 between, the shadowy figures of blue-coated, brass- 
 buttoned men, continually ordering him on, and 
 threatening arrest. The spectacle of the night was as 
 dream-like as the rest ; for he remembered nothing of 
 the gunboat which had rescued and marooned him. 
 
 His face had lost its yellowish-bronze colour, but 
 was pale and emaciated as ever, while his sunken 
 eyes held the soft light which always comes of extreme 
 physical suffering. He was too weak to remain on 
 his feet, but in the effort to do so he spied the cask 
 and bag higher up on the beach and crawled to them. 
 Prizing a plug from the bunghole with his knife, he 
 found water, sweet and delicious, which he drank by 
 rolling the cask carefully and burying his lips in the 
 overflow. Evidently someone in authority on the 
 gunboat had decreed that he should not die of hunger 
 or thirst, for the bag contained hard bread. 
 
 Stronger after a meal, he climbed the highest sand- 
 dune and studied the situation. An outcropping of 
 coral formed the backbone of the thin crescent which 
 held him, and which was about half a mile between 
 the points. To the south, opening out from the bay, 
 was a clear stretch of sea, green in the sunlight, deep- 
 blue in the shadows of the clouds, and on the horizon 
 were a few sails and smoke-columns. West and east 
 were other sandy islets and coral reefs, and to the 
 north a continuous line of larger islands, which might 
 be inhabited, but gave no indication of it. 
 
 Out in the bay, bobbing to the heave of the slight 
 ground- swell, were the three white buoys left by the 
 
 134 
 
Between the Millstones 
 
 Spaniards to mark the sunken boats and slipped cable ; 
 and far away on the beach, just within the western 
 point, was something long and round, which rolled in 
 the gentle surf and glistened in the sunlight. He 
 knew nothing of buoys, but they relieved his loneli 
 ness ; they were signs of human beings, who must 
 have placed him there with the bread and water, and 
 who might come for him. 
 
 Wonder if I got pinched again, and this is some 
 new kind of a choky, he mused. Been blamed sick 
 and silly, and must ha lost the job and got gaoled 
 again. Just my luck ! S pose the jug was crowded 
 and they run me out here. Wish they d left me a 
 hat. Wonder how long I m in for this time. 
 
 He descended to the beach, and found that repeated 
 wettings of his hair relieved him from the headache 
 that the sun s heat was bringing on ; and satisfied 
 that the strong hand of local law had again closed 
 over him, he resigned himself to the situation, resent 
 ing only the absence of a shade-tree or a hat. Much 
 better n the calaboose in El Paso, he muttered, or 
 the brickyard in Chicago. 
 
 As he lolled in the sand, the glistening thing over 
 at the western point again caught his eye. After a 
 moment s scrutiny he rose and limped toward it, 
 following the concave of the beach, and often pausing 
 to rest and bathe his head. It was a long journey for 
 him, and the tide, at half -ebb when he started, was 
 rising again when he came abreast of the object and 
 sat down to look at it. It was of metal, long and 
 round, rolling nearly submerged, and held by the 
 alternate surf and undertow parallel with the beach, 
 about twenty feet out. 
 
 He waded in, grasped it by a T-shaped projection 
 in the middle, and headed it toward the shore. Then 
 he launched it forward with all his strength not 
 much, but enough to lift a bluntly-pointed end out of 
 
 135 
 
Between the Millstones 
 
 water as it grounded and exposed a small, four-bladed 
 steel wheel, shaped something like a windmill. He 
 examined this, but could not understand it, as it 
 whirled freely either way and seemed to have no in 
 ternal connection. The strange cylinder was about six 
 teen feet long and about eighteen inches in diameter. 
 
 * Boat o some kind, he muttered ; but what kind? 
 That screw s too small to make it go. Let s see the 
 other end. 
 
 He launched it with difficulty, and noticed that 
 when floating end on to the surf it ceased to roll and 
 kept the T-shaped projection uppermost, proving that 
 it was ballasted. Swinging it, he grounded the other 
 end, which was radically different in appearance. It 
 was long and finely pointed, with four steel blades or 
 vanes, two horizontal and two vertical like the double 
 tails of an ideal fish and in hollowed parts of these 
 vanes were hung a pair of unmistakable propellers, 
 one behind the other, and of opposite pitch and 
 motion. 
 
 * One works on the shaft, t other on a sleeve, he 
 mused, as he turned them. A roundhouse wiper 
 could see that. Bevel-gearin inside, I guess. It s a 
 boat, sure enough, and this reverse action must be to 
 keep her from rolling. 
 
 On each of the four vanes he found a small blade, 
 showing by its connection that it possessed range of 
 action, yet immovable as the vane itself, as though 
 held firmly by inner leverage. Those on the horizontal 
 vanes were tilted upward. Just abaft the T-shaped 
 projection which, fastened firmly to the hull, told 
 him nothing of its purpose were numerous brass 
 posts buried flush with the surface, in each of which 
 was a square hole, as though intended to be turned 
 with a key or crank. Some were marked with 
 radiating lines and numbers, and they evidently con 
 trolled the inner mechanism, part of which he could 
 
Between the Millstones 
 
 see little brass cog-wheels, worms and levers 
 through a fore-and-aft slot near the keyholes. 
 
 Kising from the forward end of this slot, and lying 
 close to the metal hull in front of it, was a strong 
 lever of brass, L-shaped, connected internally, and 
 indicating to his trained mechanical mind that its 
 only sphere of action was to lift up and sink back into 
 the slot. He fingered it, but did not yet try to move 
 it. A little to the left of this lever was a small blade 
 of steel, curved to fit the convex hull which it 
 hugged closely and hinged at its forward edge. 
 This, too, must have a purpose an internal connec 
 tion and he did not disturb it until he had learned 
 more. 
 
 To the right of the brass lever was an oblong hatch 
 about eight inches long, flush with the hull, and held 
 in place by screws. Three seams, with lines of screws, 
 encircled the round hulls, showing that it was con 
 structed in four sections ; and these screws, with those 
 in the hatch, were strong and numerous placed there 
 to stay. 
 
 Fatigued from his exertion, he moistened his hair, 
 sat down, and watched the incoming tide swing the 
 craft round parallel with the beach. As the sub 
 merged bow raised to a level with the stern, he 
 noticed that the small blades on the horizontal vanes 
 dropped from their upward slant to a straight line 
 with the vanes. 
 
 Kudders, he said * horizontal rudders. Can t be 
 anything else. With his chin in his hand and his 
 wrinkled brow creased with deeper corrugations, he 
 put his mind through a process of inductive reasoning. 
 
 Horizontal rudders, he mused, must be to keep 
 her from diving, or to make her dive. They work 
 automatically, and I s pose the vertical rudders are 
 the same. There s nothing outside to turn em with. 
 That boat isn t made to ride in no way to get into 
 
Between the Millstones 
 
 her and she isn t big enough, anyhow. And as you 
 can t get into her, that brass lever must be what 
 starts and stops her. Wonder what the steel blade s 
 for. Tisn t a handy shape for a lever, to be handled 
 with fingers too sharp ; but it has work to do, or it 
 wouldn t be there. That section o railroad iron on 
 top must be to hang the boat by a traveller when 
 she s out o water. And the fan-wheel on the nose 
 what s that for? If it s a speed or distance indicator, 
 the dial s inside, out o sight. There s no exhaust, so 
 the motive-power can t be steam. Clockwork or 
 electricity, maybe. Mighty fine workmanship all 
 through ! That square door is fitted in for keeps, and 
 she must ha cost a heap, Now, as she has horizontal 
 rudders, she s intended to steer up and down ; and as 
 there s no way to get into her or to stay on her, and 
 as she can t be started from the inside or steered from 
 the outside, I take it she s a model o one o those 
 submarine boats I ve heard of some fellow s invention 
 that s got away from him. Guess I ll try that lever 
 and see what happens. I ll bury the propellers, 
 though ; no engine ought to race. 
 
 He pushed the craft into deeper water, pointed it 
 shoreward, and cautiously lifted the curved blade to 
 a perpendicular position, as high as it would go. 
 Nothing happened. He lowered it, raised it again 
 it worked very easily then, leaving it upright, he 
 threw the long brass lever back into the slot. A slight 
 humming came from within, the propellers revolved 
 slowly, and the craft moved ahead until the bow 
 grounded. Then he followed and lifted the lever 
 out of the slot to its first position, shutting off the 
 power. 
 
 Delighted with his success, he backed it out farther 
 than before and again threw back the brass lever, this 
 time with the curved blade down flat on the hull. 
 With the sinking of the lever into the slot the 
 
 138 
 
Between the Millstones 
 
 mechanism within gave forth a rushing sound, the 
 propellers at the stern threw up a mound of foam, 
 and the craft shot past him, dived until it glanced on 
 the sandy bottom, then slid a third of its length out 
 of water on the beach and stopped, the propellers still 
 churning, and the small wheel on the nose still 
 spinning with the motion given it by the water. 
 
 * Air-pressure ! he exclaimed, as he shut it off. He 
 had seen a line of bubbles rise as the thing dived. 
 An air-engine, and the whole thing must be full o 
 compressed air. The brass lever turns it on, and if 
 the steel blade s up, it gives it the slow motion ; if it s 
 down, she gets full speed at once. Now I know why 
 it s blade-shaped. It s so the water itself can push it 
 down after she starts. 
 
 He did not try to launch it ; he waited until the 
 tide floated it, then pushed it along the beach toward 
 his store of food, arriving at high water too exhausted 
 to do more that day than ground his capture and 
 break hard bread. And as the afternoon drew to a 
 close the fatigue in his limbs became racking pain ; 
 either as a result of his exposure, or as a later 
 symptom of the fever, he was now in the clutch of a 
 new enemy rheumatism. 
 
 Then with the coming of night came a return of 
 his first violent symptoms ; he was hot, shivery and 
 feverish by turns, with dry tongue and throat, and a 
 splitting headache ; but in this condition he could 
 still take cognizance of a black, ram-bowed gunboat, 
 which stole into the bay from the east and dropped 
 anchor near the buoys. 
 
 A half-moon shone in the western sky, and by its 
 light the steamer presented an unkempt, broken 
 appearance, even to the untrained eye of this cast 
 away. Her after-funnel was but half as high as the 
 other ; there were gaps in her iron rail, and vacancies 
 below the twisted davits where boats should be ; and 
 
 139 
 
Between the Millstones 
 
 her pilot-house was wrecked the starboard door and 
 nearest window merged in a large, ragged hole. 
 
 Officers on the bridge gave orders in foreign speech, 
 in tones which came shoreward faintly. Men sprang 
 overboard with ropes, which they fastened to the 
 buoys ; then they swam back, and for an hour or two 
 the whole crew was busy getting the boats to the davits 
 and the end of the cable into the hawse-pipe. 
 
 The man on the beach recognised the craft he had 
 seen when he wakened. 
 
 He felt that she must in some way be connected 
 with his being there, and he waited, expecting to see 
 a boat put off ; but when both boats were hoisted and 
 he heard the humming of a steam-windlass, he gave 
 up this expectation and tried to hail. 
 
 His voice could not rise above a hoarse whisper. 
 The anchor was fished, and after an interval he heard 
 the windlass again, heaving in the other chain. They 
 were going away going to leave him there to die. 
 
 He crawled and stumbled down to the water s edge. 
 The tide was up again, rippling around the strange 
 thing he had resolved to navigate. It was not a boat, 
 but it would go ahead, and it would float it would 
 possibly float him. 
 
 With strength born of desperation and fear, he 
 pushed it, inch by inch, into the water until it was 
 clear of the sand, and tried the engine on the slow 
 motion. The propellers turned and satisfied him. 
 He shut off the power, swung the thing round until 
 it pointed toward the steamer, and seated himself 
 astride of it, just abaft the T-shaped projection in the 
 middle. The long cylinder sank with him, and when 
 it had steadied to a balance between his weight and 
 its buoyancy, he found that it bore him, shoulders out; 
 and the position he had taken within reach of the 
 levers behind him lifted the blunt nose higher than 
 the stern, but not out of water. This was practicable. 
 
 140 
 
Between the Millstones 
 
 He reached behind, raised the blade lever, threw 
 back the large brass lever, and the craft went ahead, 
 at about the speed of a healthy man s walk. He 
 kept his left hand on the blade lever to hold it up, 
 and by skilful paddling with his right maintained his 
 balance and assisted his legs in steering. He had 
 never learned to swim, but he felt less fear of drown 
 ing than of slow death on the island. 
 
 In five minutes he was near enough to the steamer 
 to read her name. He pulled the starting-lever 
 forward, stopping his headway ; for he must be sure 
 of his welcome. 
 
 Say, boss, he called faintly and hoarsely, take 
 me along, can t you ? Or else gi me some medicine. 
 I m blamed sick I ll die if I stay here. 
 
 The noise of the windlass and chain prevented this 
 being heard, but at last, after repeated calls on his 
 part, a Spanish howl went up from amidships, and a 
 sailor sprang from one of the boats to the deck, 
 crossed himself, and pointing to the man in the 
 water, ran forward. 
 
 Madre de Dios! he yelled. El aparecido del 
 muerto ! 
 
 Work stopped, and a call down a hatchway stopped 
 the windlass. In ports and dead -lights appeared 
 faces ; and those on deck, officers and men, crowded 
 to the rail, some to cross themselves, some to sink on 
 their knees, others to grip the rail tightly, while they 
 stared in silence at the torso and livid face in the 
 moonlight on the sea the ghastly face of the man 
 they had marooned to die alone, who had been seen 
 later dead on the beach. 
 
 Take me with you, boss, he pleaded with his 
 weak voice. I m sick ; I can t hold on much 
 longer. 
 
 It was not the dead man s body washed out from 
 the beach, for it moved, it spoke. And it was not a 
 
 141 
 
Between the Millstones 
 
 living man ; no man may recover from advanced 
 yellow fever, and this man had been found afterward, 
 dead cold and still. And no living man may swim 
 in this manner high out of water, patting and splash 
 ing with one hand. It was a ghost. It had come to 
 punish them. 
 
 For que nos atormentan asi, hombre, deja ? cried 
 a white-faced officer. 
 
 Can t you hear me? asked the apparition. I ll 
 come closer. 
 
 He threw back the starting-lever, and the thing 
 began moving. Then a rifle-barrel protruded from a 
 dead-light. There was a report and a flash, and a 
 bullet passed through his hair. The shock startled 
 him, and he lost his balance. In the effort to recover 
 it his leg knocked down the blade-lever, and the steel 
 cylinder sprang forward, leaving him floundering in 
 the water. Pointed upward, it appeared for a moment 
 on the surface, then dived like a porpoise and dis 
 appeared. In five seconds something happened to 
 the gunboat. 
 
 Coincident with a sound like near-by thunder, the 
 black craft lifted amidships like a bending jack-knife, 
 and up from the shattered deck, and out from ports, 
 doors and dead-lights came a volcano of flame and 
 smoke. The sea beneath followed in a mound, which 
 burst like a great bubble, sending a cloud of steam 
 and spray and whitish-yellow smoke aloft to mingle 
 with the first and meet the falling fragments. These 
 fell for .several seconds hatches, gratings, buckets, 
 ladders, splinters of wood, parts of men, and men 
 whole, but limp. 
 
 A side-ladder fell near the choking and half-stunned 
 sick man, and he seized it. Before he could crawl on 
 top, the two halves of the gunboat had sunk in a 
 swirl of bubbles and whirlpools. 
 
 A few broken and bleeding swimmers approached 
 142 
 
Between the Millstones 
 
 to share his support, saw his awful face in the moon 
 light, and swam away. 
 
 A few hours later a gray cruiser loomed up close 
 by and directed a search-light at him. Then a gray 
 cutter full of white-clad men approached and took 
 him off the ladder. He was delirious again, and 
 bleeding from mouth, nose and ears. 
 
 The surgeon and the torpedo-lieutenant came up 
 from the sick-bay, the latter with enthusiasm on his 
 face for he was young and joined a group of officers 
 on the quarter-deck. 
 
 He ll pull through, gentlemen, said the surgeon. 
 He is the man Mosher lost overboard, though he 
 doesn t know anything about it, nor how he got on 
 that sand-key. I suppose the Destructor picked him 
 up and landed him. He found bread and water, he 
 says. You see, the first symptoms are similar in 
 Yellow Jack and relapsing bilious fever. I don t 
 wonder that Mosher was nervous. 
 
 Then it was the Destructor T asked an ensign, 
 pulling out a note-book and a pencil. And Lieu 
 tenant Mosher was right, after all ? 
 
 Yes ; this man read her name before she blew up ; 
 and a Spanish sailor has waked up and confirmed it. 
 She was the Destructor, just over, and trying to get 
 into Havana. Instead of blowing up in Algeciras 
 Bay, as they thought, she had left with despatches 
 for Havana, only to blow up on the Florida Keel 
 
 The Destructor^ said the ensign, as he pocketed 
 his note-book and pencil, carried fifty-five men. 
 Don t we get the bounty as the nearest craft ? 
 
 Not much! said the young and enthusiastic 
 torpedo-lieutenant. We were not e ven within signal 
 distance, and came along by accident. Listen, all of 
 you. When an American war-craft sinks or destroys 
 a larger enemy, there is a bounty due to her crew of 
 
 143 
 
Between the Millstones 
 
 two hundred dollars for every man on board the 
 enemy. That is law, isn t it ? They nodded. * If a 
 submarine boat can be a war-craft, so may a White- 
 head torpedo, and certainly is one, being built for 
 war. A war-craft abandoned is a derelict, and the 
 man who finds her becomes her lawful commander 
 for the time. If he belongs to the navy, his position 
 is strengthened, and if he is alone he is not only 
 commander, but the whole crew, and consequently he 
 is entitled to all the bounty she may earn. That is 
 law. 
 
 Now, listen hard. Lieutenant Mosher sent one 
 torpedo at the gunboat ; it missed and became derelict, 
 while Mosher escaped under one boiler. This man 
 found the derelict adrift, puzzled out the action, 
 waited until the gunboat came back for her anchor, 
 then straddled his craft, and rode out with the water- 
 tripper up. They shot at him. He turned his dog 
 loose and destroyed the enemy. If the Destructor 
 carried fifty-five men, he is entitled to eleven thousand 
 dollars, and the Government must pay, for that is 
 law. 
 
 144 
 
THE BATTLE OF THE MONSTERS 
 
 EXTRACT from hospital record of the case of John 
 Anderson, patient of Dr. Brown, Ward 3, Room 6 : 
 
 August 3. Arrived at hospital in extreme mental distress, 
 having been bitten on wrist three hours previously by dog known 
 to have been rabid. Large, strong man, full-blooded and well 
 nourished ; sanguine temperament ; pulse and temperature 
 higher than normal, due to excitement. Cauterized wound at 
 once (2 p.m.), and inoculated with antitoxin. 
 
 As patient admits having recently escaped, by swimming 
 ashore, from lately-arrived cholera ship, now at quarantine, he 
 has been isolated and clothing disinfected. Watch for symptoms 
 of cholera. 
 
 August 3, 6 p.m. Microscopic examination of blood cor 
 roborative of Metschnikoff s theory of fighting leucocytes. 
 White corpuscles gorged with bacteria. 
 
 ***** 
 
 He was an amphibian, and, as such, undeniably 
 beautiful ; for the sunlight, refracted and diffused 
 in the water, gave his translucent, pearl-blue body 
 all the shifting colours of the spectrum. Vigorous 
 and graceful of movement, in shape he resembled a 
 comma of three dimensions, twisted, when at rest, to 
 a slight spiral curve ; but in travelling he straightened 
 out with quick, successive jerks, each one sending him 
 ahead a couple of lengths. Supplemented by the un- 
 dulatory movement of a long continuation of his tail, 
 it was his way of swimming, good enough to enable 
 him to escape his enemies this, and riding at anchor 
 
The Battle of 
 
 in a current by his cable-like appendage, constituted 
 his main occupation in life. The pleasure of eating 
 was denied him ; Nature had given him a mouth, but 
 he used it only for purposes of offence and defence, 
 absorbing his food in a most unheard-of manner 
 through the soft walls of his body. 
 
 Yet he enjoyed a few social pleasures. Though the 
 organs of the five senses were missing in his economy, 
 he possessed an inner sixth sense which answered for 
 all, and also gave him power of speech. He would 
 converse, swap news and views, with creatures of his 
 own and other species, provided that they were of 
 equal size and prowess ; but he wasted no time on 
 any but his social peers. Smaller creatures he pur 
 sued when they annoyed him ; larger ones pursued 
 him. 
 
 The sunlight, which made him so beautiful to look 
 at, was distasteful to him ; it also made him too 
 visible. He preferred a half-darkness and less fervour 
 to life s battle time to judge of chances, to figure on 
 an enemy s speed and turning-circle, before beginning 
 flight or pursuit. But his dislike of it really came of 
 a stronger animus a shuddering recollection of three 
 hours once passed on dry land in a comatose condition, 
 which had followed a particularly long and intense 
 period of bright sunlight. He had never been able 
 to explain the connection, but the awful memory still 
 saddened his life. 
 
 And now it seemed, as he swam about, that this 
 experience might be repeated. The light was strong 
 and long-continued, the water uncomfortably warm, 
 and the crowd about him denser, so much so as to 
 prevent him from attending properly to a social 
 inferior who had crossed his bow. But just as his 
 mind grasped the full imminence of the danger, 
 there came a sudden darkness, a crash and vibra 
 tion of the water, then a terrible rattling roar of 
 
 146 
 
the Monsters 
 
 sound. The social inferior slipped from his mouth, 
 and, with his crowding neighbours, was washed far 
 away, while he felt himself slipping along, bounding 
 and rebounding against the projections of a corrugated 
 wall, which showed white in the gloom. There was 
 an unpleasant taste to the water, and he became 
 aware of creatures in his vicinity unlike any he had 
 known quickly-darting little monsters about a tenth 
 as large as himself thousands of them, black and 
 horrid to see, each with short, fish-like body and 
 square head, like that of a dog, with wicked mouth 
 that opened and shut nervously ; with hooked flippers 
 on the middle part, and a bunch of tentacles on the 
 fore that spread out ahead and around. A dozen of 
 them surrounded him menacingly, but he was young 
 and strong, much larger than they, and a little 
 frightened. A blow of his tail killed two, and the 
 rest drew off. 
 
 The current bore them on until the white wall 
 rounded off and was lost to sight beyond the mass 
 of darting creatures. Here was slack water, and 
 with desperate effort he swam back, pushing the 
 small enemies out of his path, meeting some resist 
 ance and receiving a few bites, until, in a hollow 
 in the wall, he found temporary refuge and time to 
 think. But he could not solve the problem. He had 
 not the slightest idea where he was or what had 
 happened, who and what were the strange black 
 creatures, or why they had threatened him. 
 
 His thoughts were interrupted. Another vibrant 
 roar sounded, and there was pitch-black darkness ; 
 then he was pushed and washed away from his 
 shelter, jostled, bumped, and squeezed, until he 
 found himself in a dimly - lighted tunnel, which, 
 crowded as it was with swimmers, was narrow enough 
 to enable him to see both sides at once. The walls 
 were dark-brown and blue, broken up everywhere into 
 
 147 L 2 
 
The Battle of 
 
 depressions or caves, some of them so deep as to be 
 almost like blind tunnels. The dog-faced creatures 
 were there as far as he could see ; but besides them 
 now were others of stranger shape of species un 
 known to him. 
 
 A slow current carried them on, and soon they 
 entered a larger tunnel. He swam to the opposite 
 wall, gripped a projection, and watched in wonder 
 and awe the procession gliding by. He soon noticed 
 the source of the dim light. A small creature with 
 barrel-like body and innumerable legs or tentacles, 
 wavering and reaching, floated past. Its body swelled 
 and shrank alternately, with every swelling giving out 
 a phosphorescent glow, with every contraction darken 
 ing to a faint red colour. Then came a group of 
 others ; then a second living lamp ; later another 
 and another. They were evenly distributed, and 
 illumined the tunnel. 
 
 There were monstrous shapes, living but inert, 
 barely pulsing with dormant life, as much larger 
 than himself as the dog-headed kind were smaller 
 huge, unwieldy, disc- shaped masses of tissue, light- 
 gray at the margins, dark-red in the middle. They 
 were in the majority, and blocked the view. Darting 
 and wriggling between and about them were horrible 
 forms, some larger than himself, others smaller. 
 There were serpents, who swam with a serpent s 
 motion. Some were serpents in form, but were 
 curled rigidly into living corkscrews, and by sculling 
 with their tails screwed their way through the water 
 with surprising rapidity. Others were barrel or globe- 
 shaped, with swarming tentacles. With these they 
 pulled themselves along, in and out through the 
 crowd, or, bringing their squirming appendages rear 
 ward each an individual snake used them as pro 
 pellers, and swam. There were creatures in the form 
 of long cylinders, some with tentacles, by which they 
 
 148 
 
the Monsters 
 
 rolled along like a log in a tideway ; others, without 
 appendages, were as inert and helpless as the huge 
 red and gray discs. He saw four ball-shaped creatures 
 float by, clinging together ; then a group of eight, 
 then one of twelve. All these, to the extent of their 
 volition, seemed to be in a state of extreme agitation 
 and excitement. 
 
 The cause was apparent. The tunnel from which 
 he had come was still discharging the dog-faced 
 animals by the thousand, and he knew now the 
 business they were on. It was war war to the 
 death. They flung themselves with furious energy 
 into the parade, fighting and biting all they could 
 reach. A hundred at a time would pounce on one 
 of the large red-and-gray creatures, almost hiding it 
 from view ; then, and before they had passed out of 
 sight, they would fall off and disperse, and the once 
 living victim would come with them, in parts. The 
 smaller, active swimmers fled, but if one was caught 
 he suffered a quick dart, a tangle of tentacles, an 
 embrace of the wicked flippers, a bite, and a dead 
 body floated on. 
 
 And now into the battle came a ponderous engine 
 of vengeance and defence a gigantic, lumbering, 
 pulsating creature, white and translucent but for the 
 dark, active brain showing through its walls, horrible 
 in the slow, implacable deliberation of its movements, 
 floating down with the current. It was larger than 
 the huge red-and-gray creatures. It was formless, in 
 the full irony of the definition for it assumed all 
 forms. It was long barrel-shaped ; it shrank to a 
 sphere, then broadened laterally, and again extended 
 above and below. In turn it was a sphere, a disc, a 
 pyramid, a pentahedron, a polyhedron. It possessed 
 neither legs, flippers, nor tentacles ; but out from its 
 heaving, shrinking body it would send, now from one 
 spot, now from another, an active arm, or feeler, with 
 
 149 
 
The Battle of 
 
 which it swam, pulled, or pushed. An unlucky in 
 vader which one of them touched made few more 
 voluntary movements ; for instantly the whole side of 
 the whitish mass bristled with arms. They seized, 
 crushed, killed it, and then pushed it bodily through 
 the living walls to the animal s interior to serve for 
 food. And the gaping fissure healed at once, like the 
 wounds of Milton s warring angels. 
 
 The first white monster floated down, killing as he 
 went ; then came another, pushing eagerly into the 
 fray ; then came two, then three, then dozens. It 
 seemed that the word had been passed, and the army 
 of defence was mustering. 
 
 Sick with horror, he watched the grim spectacle 
 from the shelter of the projection, until roused to an 
 active sense of danger to himself but not from the 
 fighters. He was anchored by his tail, swinging 
 easily in the eddy, and now felt himself touched from 
 beneath, again from above. A projection down-stream 
 was extending outward and toward him. The cave 
 in which he had taken refuge was closing on him like 
 a great mouth as though directed by an intelligence 
 behind the wall. With a terrified flirt of his tail he 
 flung himself out, and as he drifted down with the 
 combat the walls of the cave crunched together. It 
 was well for him that he was not there. 
 
 The current was clogged with fragments of once 
 living creatures, and everywhere, darting, dodging, 
 and biting, were the fierce black invaders. But they 
 paid no present attention to him or to the email ten- 
 tacled animals. They killed the large, helpless red- 
 and-gray kind, and were killed by the larger white 
 monsters, each moment marking the death and rend 
 ing to fragments of a victim, and the horrid interment 
 of fully half his slayers. The tunnel grew larger, as 
 mouth after mouth of tributary tunnels was passed ; 
 but as each one discharged its quota of swimming 
 
 150 
 
the Monsters 
 
 and drifting creatures, there was no thinning of the 
 crowd. 
 
 As he drifted on with the inharmonious throng, he 
 noticed what seemed the objective of the war. This 
 was the caves which lined the tunnel. Some were 
 apparently rigid, others were mobile. A large red- 
 and-gray animal was pushed into the mouth of one of 
 the latter, and the walls instantly closed ; then they 
 opened, and the creature drifted out, limp and colour 
 less, but alive ; and with him came fragments of the 
 wall, broken off by the pressure. This happened 
 again and again, but the large creature was never 
 quite killed merely squeezed. The tentacled non- 
 combatants and the large white fighters seemed to 
 know the danger of these tunnel mouths, possibly 
 from bitter experiences, for they avoided the walls ; 
 but the dog-faced invaders sought this death, and 
 only fought on their way to the caves. Sometimes 
 two, often four or more, would launch themselves 
 together into a hollow, but to no avail ; their united 
 strength could not prevent the closing in of the 
 mechanical maw, and they were crushed and flung 
 out, to drift on with other debris. 
 
 Soon the walls could not be seen for the pushing, 
 jostling crowd, but everywhere the terrible, silent war 
 went on until there came a time when fighting ceased ; 
 for each must look out for himself. They seemed to 
 be in an immense cave, and the tide was broken into 
 cross-currents rushing violently to the accompani 
 ment of rhythmical thunder. They were shaken, 
 jostled, pushed about and pushed together, hundreds 
 of the smaller creatures dying from the pressure. 
 Then there was a moment of comparative quiet, 
 during which fighting was resumed, and there could 
 be seen the swiftly-flying walls of a large tunnel. 
 Next they were rushed through a labyrinth of small 
 caves with walls of curious, branching formation, 
 
The Battle of 
 
 sponge-like and intricate. It required energetic effort 
 to prevent being caught in the meshes, and the large 
 red-and-gray creatures were sadly torn and crushed, 
 while the white ones fought their way through by 
 main strength. Again the flying walls of a tunnel, 
 again a mighty cave, and the cross-currents, and the 
 rhythmical thunder, and now a wild charge down 
 an immense tunnel, the wall of which surged out 
 ward and inward, in unison with the roaring of the 
 thunder. 
 
 The thunder died away in the distance, though the 
 walls still surged even those of a smaller tunnel 
 which divided the current and received them. Down 
 stream the tunnel branched again and again, and 
 with the lessening of the diameter was a lessening of 
 the current s velocity, until, in a maze of small, short 
 passages, the invaders, content to fight and kill in the 
 swifter tide, again attacked the caves. 
 
 But to the never -changing result: they were 
 crushed, mangled, and cast out, the number of 
 suicides in this neighbourhood largely exceeding 
 those killed by the white warriors. And yet, in spite 
 of the large mortality among them, the attacking force 
 was increasing. Where one died two took his place ; 
 and the reason was soon made plain they were re 
 producing. A black fighter, longer than his fellows, 
 a little sluggish of movement, as though from the 
 restrictive pressure of a large, round protuberance in 
 his middle, which made him resemble a snake which 
 had swallowed an egg, was caught by a white monster 
 and instantly embraced by a multitude of feelers. 
 He struggled, bit, and broke in two; then the two 
 parts escaped the grip of the astonished captor, and 
 wriggled away, the protuberance becoming the head 
 of the rear portion, which immediately joined the 
 fight, snapping and biting with unmistakable jaws. 
 This phenomenon was repeated. 
 
 152 
 
the Monsters 
 
 And on went the battle. Illumined by the living 
 lamps, and watched by terrified noncombatants, the 
 horrid carnival continued with never- slacking fury 
 and ever-changing background past the mouths of 
 tributary tunnels which increased the volume and 
 velocity of the current and added to the fighting 
 strength, on through widening archways to a repeti 
 tion of the cross-currents, the thunder, and the sponge- 
 like maze, down past the heaving walls of larger 
 tunnels to branched passages, where, in comparatively 
 slack water, the siege of the caves was resumed. For 
 hour after hour this went on, the invaders dying by 
 hundreds, but increasing by thousands and ten thou 
 sands, as the geometrical progression advanced, until, 
 with swimming-spaces nearly choked by their bodies, 
 living and dead, there came the inevitable turn in the 
 tide of battle. A white monster was killed. 
 
 Glutted with victims, exhausted and sluggish, he 
 was pounced upon by hundreds, hidden from view by 
 a living envelope of black, which pulsed and throbbed 
 with his death-throes. A feeler reached out, to be 
 bitten off; then another, to no avail. His strength 
 was gone, and the assailants bit and burrowed until 
 they reached a vital part, when the great mass assumed 
 a spherical form and throbbed no more. They dropped 
 off, and, as the mangled ball floated on, charged on 
 the next enemy with renewed fury and courage born 
 of their victory. This one died as quickly. 
 
 And as though it had been foreseen, and a policy 
 arranged to meet it, the white army no longer fought 
 in the open, but lined up along the walls to defend 
 the immovable caves. They avoided the working jaws 
 of the other kind, which certainly needed no garrison, 
 and drifting slowly in the eddies, fought as they could, 
 with decreasing strength and increasing death-rate. 
 And thus it happened that our conservative non-com 
 batant, out in mid-stream, found himself surrounded 
 
 153 
 
The Battle of 
 
 by a horde of black enemies who had nothing better 
 to do than attack him. 
 
 And they did. As many as could crowd about him 
 closed their wicked jaws in his flesh. Squirming with 
 pain, rendered trebly strong by his terror, he killed 
 them by twos and threes as he could reach them with 
 his tail. He shook them off with nervous contortions, 
 only to make room for more. He plunged, rolled, 
 launched himself forward and back, up and down, 
 out and in, bending himself nearly double, then with 
 lightning rapidity throwing himself far into the re 
 verse curve. He was fighting for his life, and knew 
 it. When he could, he used his jaws, only once to an 
 enemy. He saw dimly at intervals that the white 
 monsters were watching him ; but none offered to 
 help, and he had not time to call. 
 
 He thought that he must have become the object of 
 the war ; for from all sides they swarmed, crowding 
 about him, seeking a place on which to fasten their 
 jaws. Little by little the large red-and-gray creatures, 
 the non-combatants, and the phosphorescent animals 
 were pushed aside, and he, the centre of an almost 
 solid black mass, fought, in utter darkness, with the 
 fury of extreme fright. He had no appreciation of 
 the passing of time, no knowledge of his distance from 
 the wall, or the destination of this never-pausing 
 current. But finally, after an apparently intermin 
 able period, he heard dimly, with failing consciousness, 
 the reverberations of the thunder, and knew momen 
 tary respite as the violent cross-currents tore his 
 assailants away. Then, still in darkness, he felt the 
 crashing and tearing of flesh against obstructing walls 
 and sharp corners, the repetition of thunder and the 
 roar of the current which told him he was once more 
 in a large tunnel. An instant of light from a venture 
 some torch showed him to his enemies, and again he 
 fought, like a whale in his last flurry, slowly dying 
 
 154 
 
the Monsters 
 
 from exhaustion and pain, but still potential to kill 
 terrible in his agony. There was no counting of 
 scalps in that day s work ; but perhaps no devouring 
 white monster in all the defensive army could have 
 shown a death-list equal to his. From the surging 
 black cloud there was a steady outflow of the dead, 
 pushed back by the living. 
 
 Weaker and weaker, while they mangled his flesh, 
 and still in darkness, he fought them down through 
 branching passages to another network of small 
 tunnels, where he caught a momentary view of the 
 walls and the stolid white guard, thence on to what 
 he knew was open space. And here he felt that he 
 could fight no more. They had covered him com 
 pletely, and, try as he might with his failing strength, 
 he could not dislodge them. So he ceased his struggles, 
 and numb with pain, dazed with despair, he awaited 
 the end. 
 
 But it did not come. He was too exhausted to feel 
 surprise or joy when they suddenly dropped away 
 from him ; but the instinct of self-preservation was 
 still in force, and he swam towards the wall. The 
 small creatures paid him no attention ; they scurried 
 this way and that, busy with troubles of their own, 
 while he crept stupidly and painfully between two 
 white sentries floating in the eddies one of whom 
 considerately made room for him and anchored to 
 a projection, luckily choosing a harbour that was not 
 hostile. 
 
 Any port in a storm, eh, neighbour ? said the one 
 who had given him room, and who seemed to notice 
 his dazed condition. You ll feel better soon. My, 
 but you put up a good fight, that s what you did ! 
 
 He could not answer, and the friendly guard re 
 sumed his vigil. In a few moments, however, he 
 could take cognizance of what was going on in the 
 stream. There was a new army in the fight, and 
 
 155 
 
The Battle of 
 
 reinforcements were still coming. A short distance 
 above him was a huge rent in the wall, and the caves 
 around it, crushed and distorted, were grinding fiercely. 
 Protruding through the rent and extending half-way 
 across the tunnel was a huge mass of some strange 
 substance, roughly shaped to a cylindrical form. It 
 was hollow, and out of it, by thousands and hundred 
 thousands, was pouring the auxiliary army, from 
 which the black fighters were now fleeing for dear 
 life. 
 
 The newcomers, though resembling in general form 
 the creatures they pursued, were much larger and of 
 two distinct types. Both were light-brown in colour ; 
 but while one showed huge development of head and 
 jaw, with small flippers, the other kind reversed these 
 attributes, their heads being small, but their flippers 
 long and powerful. They ran their quarry down in 
 the open, and seized them with outreaching tentacles. 
 No mistakes were made no feints or false motions ; 
 and there was no resistance by the victims. Where 
 one was noticed he was doomed. The tentacles 
 gathered him in to a murderous bite or a murderous 
 embrace. 
 
 At last, when the inflow had ceased when there 
 must have been millions of the brown killers in the 
 tunnel the great hollow cylinder turned slowly on 
 its axis and backed out through the rent in the wall, 
 which immediately closed, with a crushing and scat 
 tering of fragments. Though the allies were far 
 down-stream now, the war was practically ended ; for 
 the white defenders remained near the walls, and the 
 black invaders were in wildest panic, each one, as the 
 resistless current rushed him past, swimming against 
 the stream, to put distance between himself and the 
 destroyer below. But before long an advance-guard 
 of the brown enemy shot out from the tributaries 
 above, and the tide of retreat swung backwards. 
 
 156 
 
the Monsters 
 
 Then came thousands of them, and the massacre 
 was resumed. 
 
 * Hot stuff, eh ? said his friendly neighbour to him. 
 
 Y-y-y-es I guess so, he answered, rather vacantly. 
 I don t know; I don t know anything about it. I 
 never saw such doings. What is it all for? What 
 does it mean ? 
 
 Oh, this is nothing; it s all in a lifetime. Still, I 
 admit it might ha been serious for us and you, too 
 if we hadn t got help. 
 
 But who are they, and what ? They all seem of 
 a family, and are killing each other. 
 
 Immortal shade of Darwin! exclaimed the other 
 sentry, who had not spoken before. Where were 
 you brought up? Don t you know that variations 
 from type are the deadliest enemies of the parent 
 stock? These two brown breeds are the hundredth 
 or two-hundredth cousins of the black kind. When 
 they ve killed off their common relative, and get to 
 competing for grub, they ll exterminate each other, 
 and we ll be rid of em all. Law of nature. Under 
 stand? 
 
 Oh, y-yes, I understand, of course ; but what did 
 the black kind attack me for? And what do they 
 want, anyway? 
 
 To follow out their destiny, I s pose. They re the 
 kind of folks who have missions reformers, we call 
 em who want to enforce their peculiar ideas and 
 habits on other people. Sometimes we call them ex 
 pansionists fond of colonizing territory that doesn t 
 belong to them. They wanted to get through the 
 cells to the lymph-passages, then on to the brain and 
 spinal marrow. Know what that means? Hydro 
 phobia. 
 
 What s that? 
 
 Oh, say, now ! You re too easy. 
 
 Come, come, said the other good-naturedly; don t 
 
 157 
 
The Battle of 
 
 guy him. He never had our advantages. You see, 
 neighbour, we get these points from the subjective 
 brain, which knows all things and gives us our 
 instructions. We re the white corpuscles phago 
 cytes the scientists call us and our work is to police 
 the bloodvessels, and kill off invaders that make 
 trouble. Those red-and-gray chumps can t take care 
 of themselves, and we must protect em. Understand? 
 But this invasion was too much for us, and we had to 
 have help from outside. You must have come in 
 with the first crowd think I saw you in at the bite. 
 Second crowd came in through an inoculation tube, 
 and just in time to pull you through. 
 
 * I don t know, answered our bewildered friend. 
 In at the bite ? What bite ? I was swimming 
 round comfortable-like, and there was a big noise, 
 and then I was alongside of a big white wall, and 
 then 
 
 Exactly ; the dog s tooth. You got into bad com 
 pany, friend, and you re well out of it. That first 
 gang is the microbe of rabies, not very well known 
 yet, because a little too small to be seen by most 
 microscopes. All the scientists seem to have learned 
 about em is that a colony a few hundred generations 
 old which they call a culture, or serum is death 
 on the original bird ; and that s what they sent in to 
 help out. Pasteur s dead, worse luck, but some time 
 old Koch 11 find out what we ve known all along 
 that it s only variation from type. 
 
 Koch ! he answered eagerly and proudly. Oh, I 
 know Koch ; I ve met him. And I know about micro 
 scopes, too. Why, Koch had me under his microscope 
 once. He discovered my family, and named us the 
 comma bacilli the Spirilli of Asiatic Cholera. 
 
 In silent horror they drew away from him, and 
 then conversed together. Other white warriors drift 
 ing along stopped and joined the conference, and 
 
 158 
 
the Monsters 
 
 when a hundred or more were massed before him, 
 they spread out to a semi-spherical formation and 
 closed in. 
 
 What s the matter ? he asked nervously. What s 
 wrong ? What are you going to do ? I haven t done 
 anything, have I ? 
 
 It s not what you ve done, stranger, said his 
 quondam friend, or what we re going to do. It s 
 what you re going to do. You re going to die. Don t 
 see how you got past quarantine, anyhow. 
 
 What why I don t want to die. I ve done 
 nothing. All I want is peace and quiet, and a place 
 to swim where it isn t too light nor too dark. I mind 
 my own affairs. Let me alone you hear me let 
 me alone ! 
 
 They answered him not. Slowly and irresistibly 
 the hollow formation contracted individuals slipping 
 out when necessary until he was pushed, still pro 
 testing, into the nearest movable cave. The walls 
 crashed together, and his life went out. When he 
 was cast forth he was in five pieces. 
 
 And so our gentle, conservative, non-combative 
 cholera microbe, who only wanted to be left alone to 
 mind his own affairs, met this violent death, a martyr 
 to prejudice and an unsympathetic environment. 
 ***** 
 
 Extract from hospital record of the case of John 
 Anderson : 
 
 August 18. As period of incubation for both cholera and 
 hydrophobia has passed, and no initial symptoms of either 
 disease have been noticed, patient is this day discharged, cured. 
 
FROM THE ROYAL-YARD DOWN 
 
 As night descended, cold and damp, the wind hauled, 
 and by nine o clock the ship was charging along 
 before a half-gale and a rising sea from the port 
 quarter. When the watch had braced the yards, the 
 mate ordered the spanker brailed in and the mizzen- 
 royal clewed up, as the ship steered hard. This was 
 done, and the men coiled up the gear. 
 
 Let the spanker hang in the brails ; tie up the 
 royal, ordered the mate from his position at the 
 break of the poop. 
 
 Ay, ay, sir, answered a voice from the group, 
 and an active figure sprang into the rigging. Another 
 figure slim and graceful, clad in long yellow oilskin 
 coat, and a sou -wester which could not confine a 
 tangled fringe of wind-blown hair left the shelter of 
 the aftercompanion-way and sped along the alley to 
 the mate s side. 
 
 The foot-rope, Mr. Adams, she said hurriedly. 
 The seizing was chafed, you remember. 
 
 By George, Miss Freda ! said the officer. Forgot 
 all about it. Glad you spoke. Come down from 
 aloft, he added in a roar. 
 
 The sailor answered and descended. 
 
 Get a piece of spun yarn out o the booby-hatch 
 and take it up wi you, continued the mate. Pass a 
 
 160 
 
From the Royal- Yard down 
 
 temporary seizing on the lee royal foot-rope. Make 
 sure it s all right fore you get on it, now. 
 
 * Ay, ay, sir. 
 
 The man passed down the poop steps, secured the 
 spun yarn, and while rolling it into a ball to put in 
 his pocket, stood for a moment in the light shining 
 from the second mate s room. The girl on the poop 
 looked down at him. He was a trim-built, well- 
 favoured young fellow, with more refinement in his 
 face than most sailors can show; yet there was no 
 lack of seamanly deftness in the fingers which balled 
 up the spun yarn and threw a half-hitch with the 
 bight of the lanyard over the point of the marlinespike 
 which hung to his neck. As he climbed the steps, the 
 girl faced him, looking squarely into his eyes. 
 
 Be careful, John Mr. Owen, she said. The 
 seizing is chafed through. I heard the man report 
 it it was Dutch George, of the other watch. Do be 
 careful. 
 
 Eh, why why, yes, Miss Folsom. Thank you. 
 But you startled me. I ve been Jack for three years 
 not John, nor Mister. Yes, it s all right ; I 
 
 Get aloft to that mizzen-royal, thundered the 
 mate, now near the wheel. 
 
 Ay, ay, sir. He touched his sou -wester to the 
 girl and mounted the weather mizzen-rigging, running 
 up the ratlines as a fireman goes up a ladder. It 
 was a black night with cold rain ; having thrown off 
 his oiled jacket, he was already drenched to the skin; 
 but no environment of sunshine, green fields and 
 woodland, and flower - scented air ever made life 
 brighter to him than had the incident of the last 
 few moments ; and with every nerve in his body 
 rejoicing in his victory, and her bitter words of four 
 years back crowding his mind as a contrasting back 
 ground, he danced up and over the futtock-shrouds, 
 up the topmast-rigging, through the crosstrees, and 
 
 161 M 
 
From the 
 
 up the topgallant-rigging to where the ratlines ended, 
 and he must climb on the runner of the royal- 
 halyards. As the yard was lowered, this was a short 
 climb, and he swung himself upward to the weather 
 yard-arm, where he rolled up one side of the sail with 
 extravagant waste of muscular effort ; for she had 
 said he was not a man, and he had proved her 
 wrong : he had conquered himself, and he had 
 conquered her. 
 
 He hitched the gasket, and crossed over to the lee 
 side, forgetting, in his exhilaration, the object of the 
 spun yarn in his pocket and the marlinespike hung 
 from his neck, stepped out on the foot-rope, passed 
 his hands along the jack-stay to pull himself farther, 
 and felt the foot-rope sink to the sound of snapping 
 strands. The jackstay was torn from his grasp, and 
 he fell, face downward, into the black void beneath. 
 
 An involuntary shriek began on his lips, but was 
 not finished. He felt that the last atom of air was 
 jarred from his lungs by what he knew was the 
 topgallant - yard, four feet below the royal ; and, 
 unable to hold on, with a freezing cold in his veins 
 and at the hair-roots, he experienced in its fulness 
 the terrible sensation of falling whirling downward 
 clutching wildly at vacancy with stiffened fingers. 
 
 The first horror past, his mind took on a strange 
 contemplativeness ; fear of death gave way to mild 
 curiosity as to the manner of it. Would he strike on 
 the lee quarter, or would he go overboard? And 
 might he not catch something? There was rigging 
 below him ; the lee royal-backstay stretched farthest 
 out from the mast, and if he brushed it, there was a 
 possible chance. He was now face upward, and with 
 the utmost difficulty moved his eyes he could not 
 yet, by any exercise of will or muscle, move his head 
 and there, almost within reach, was a dark line, 
 which he knew was the royal-backstay ; farther in 
 
 162 
 
Royal-Yard down 
 
 towards the spars was another the topgallant-back 
 stay ; and within this, two other ropes which he 
 knew for the topgallant-rigging, though he could see 
 no ratlines, nor could he distinguish the lay of the 
 strands ; the ropes appeared like solid bars. This, 
 with the fact that he was still but a few feet below 
 the topgallant-yard, surprised him, until it came to 
 him that falling bodies travel over sixteen feet in the 
 first second of descent, which is at a rate too fast for 
 distinct vision, and that the apparent slowness of his 
 falling was but relative because of the quickness of 
 his mind, which could not wait on a sluggish optic 
 nerve and more sluggish retina. 
 
 Yet he wondered why he could not reach out and 
 grasp the backstay. It seemed as though invisible 
 fetters bound every muscle and joint, though not 
 completely. An intense effort of will resulted in the 
 slow extension of all the fingers of his right hand, 
 and a little straightening of the arm toward the back 
 stay ; but not until he had fallen to the level of the 
 upper topsail-yard was this result reached. It did no 
 good ; the backstay was now farther away. As it led 
 in a straight line from the royal- masthead to the rail, 
 this meant that he would fall overboard, and the 
 thought comforted him. The concussion would kill 
 him, of course ; but no self-pity afflicted him now. 
 He merely considered that she, who had relented, 
 would be spared the sight of him crushed to a pulp 
 on the deck. 
 
 As he drifted down past the expanse of upper top 
 sail, he noticed that his head was sinking and his 
 body turning, so that he would ultimately face for 
 ward ; but still his arms and legs held their extended 
 position, like those of a speared frog, and the thought 
 recalled to him an incident of his infancy a frog- 
 hunt with an older playmate, his prowess, success, 
 wet feet, and consequent illness. It had been for- 
 
 163 M 2 
 
From the 
 
 gotten for years, but the chain was started, and led 
 to other memories, long dead, which rose before him. 
 His childhood passed in review, with its pleasures and 
 griefs : his school-days, with their sports, conflicts, 
 friends and enemies ; college, where he had acquired 
 the polish to make him petted of all but one, and 
 abhorrent to her. Almost every person, man or 
 woman, boy or girl, with whom he had conversed 
 in his whole life came back and repeated the scene ; 
 and as he passed the lower topsail-yard, nearly head 
 downward, he was muttering commonplaces to a 
 brown-faced, gray-eyed girl, who listened, and looked 
 him through and through, and seemed to be wonder 
 ing why he existed. 
 
 And as he traversed the depth of the lower topsail, 
 turning gradually on his axis, he lived it over next 
 to his first voyage, the most harrowing period of his 
 life : the short two months during which he had 
 striven vainly to impress this simple-natured sailor- 
 girl with his good qualities, ending at last with his 
 frantic declaration of a love that she did not want. 
 
 * But it s not the least use, John, she said to him. 
 I do not love you, and I cannot. You are a gentle 
 man, as they say, and as such I like you well enough ; 
 but I never can love you, nor anyone like you. I ve 
 been among men real men all my life, and perhaps 
 have ideals that are strange to you. John her eyes 
 were wide open in earnestness * you are not a man ! 
 
 Writhing under her words, which would have been 
 brutal spoken by another, he cursed, not her, nor 
 himself, but his luck, and the fates that had shaped 
 his life. And next she was showing him the opened 
 door, saying that she could tolerate profanity in a 
 man, but not in a gentleman, and that under no 
 circumstances was he to claim her acquaintance 
 again. Then followed the snubbing in the street, 
 when, like a lately - whipped dog, he had placed 
 
 164 
 
Royal-Yard down 
 
 himself in her way, hoping she would notice him; 
 and the long agony of humiliation and despair as his 
 heart and soul followed her over the seas in her 
 father s ship, until the seed she had planted the 
 small suspicion that her words were true developed 
 into a wholesome conviction that she had measured 
 him by a higher standard than any he had known, 
 and found him wanting. So he would go to her 
 school, and learn what she knew. 
 
 With lightning-like rapidity, his mind rehearsed 
 the details of his tuition : the four long voyages ; 
 the brutality of the officers until he had learned 
 his work ; their consideration and rough kindness 
 when he had become useful and valuable ; the curious, 
 incongruous feeling of self-respect that none but able 
 seamen feel ; the growth in him of an aggressive 
 physical courage ; the triumphant satisfaction with 
 which he finally knew himself as a complete man, 
 clean in morals and mind, able to look men in the 
 face. And then came the moment when, mustering 
 at the capstan with the new crew of her father s ship, 
 he had met her surprised eyes with a steady glance, 
 and received no recognition. 
 
 And so he pleaded his cause, dumbly, by the life 
 that he lived. Asking nothing by word or look, he 
 proved himself under her eyes first on deck ; first in 
 the rigging; the best man at a weather-earing; the 
 best at the wheel ; quick, obedient, intelligent, and 
 respectful, winning the admiration of his mates, the 
 jealous ill-will of the officers, but no sign of interest 
 or approval from her until to-night the ninety- second 
 day of the passage. She had surrendered ; he had 
 reached her level, only to die and he thought this 
 strange. 
 
 Facing downward, head inboard now, and nearly 
 horizontal, he was passing the cross-jack yard. Below 
 him was the sea black and crisp, motionless as 
 
 165 
 
From the 
 
 though carved in ebony. Neither was there move 
 ment of the ship and its rigging ; the hanging bights 
 of ropes were rigid, while a breaking sea just abaft 
 the main chains remained poised, curled, its white 
 crest a frozen pillow of foam. The rapidity of 
 thought, he mused dreamily ; but I m falling fast 
 enough fast enough to kill me when I strike. 
 
 He could not move an eyelid now, nor was he 
 conscious that he breathed ; but, being nearly up 
 right, facing aft and inboard, the quarter-deck and 
 its fittings were before his eyes, and he saw what 
 brought him out of eternity to a moment of finite 
 time and emotion. The helmsman stood at the 
 motionless wheel with his right hand poised six 
 inches above a spoke, as though some sudden 
 paralysis gripped him, and his face, illumined by 
 the binnacle light, turned aloft inquiringly. But it 
 was not this. Standing at the taffrail, one hand on 
 a life-buoy, was a girl in yellow, looking at him un 
 speakable horror in the look and around her waist 
 the arm of the mate, on whose rather handsome face 
 was an evil grin. 
 
 A pang of earthly rage and jealousy shot through 
 him, and he wished to live. By a supreme effort of 
 will he brought his legs close together and his arms 
 straight above his head ; then the picture before him 
 shot upward, and he was immersed in cold salt water, 
 with blackness all about him. How long he remained 
 under he could not guess. He had struck feet first 
 and suffered no harm, but had gone down like a deep- 
 sea lead. He felt the aching sensation in his lungs 
 coming from suppressed breathing, and swam blindly 
 in the darkness, not knowing in which direction was 
 the surface, until he felt the marlinespike still 
 fastened to his neck extending off to the right. 
 Sure that it must hang downward, he turned the 
 other way, and, keeping it parallel with his body, 
 
 166 
 
Royal- Yard down 
 
 swam with bursting lungs, until he felt air upon his 
 face, and knew that he could breathe. In choking 
 sobs and gasps his breath came and went, while he 
 paddled with hands and feet, glad of his reprieve; 
 and when his lungs worked normally he struck out 
 for a white, circular life-buoy, not six feet away. 
 Bless her for this ! he prayed, as he slipped it 
 under his arms. His oilskin trousers were cumber 
 some, and with a little trouble he shed them. 
 
 He was alive, and his world was again in motion. 
 Seas lifted and dropped him, occasionally breaking 
 over his head. In the calm of the hollows he listened 
 for voices of possible rescuers. On the tops of the 
 seas ears filled with the roar of the gale he shouted, 
 facing to leeward, and searching with strained eyes 
 for sign of the ship or one of her boats. At last he 
 saw a pin-point of light far away, and around it and 
 above it blacker darkness, which was faintly shaped 
 to the outline of a ship and canvas, hove to in the 
 trough, with maintopsail aback, as he knew by its 
 foreshortening. And even as he looked and shouted, 
 it faded away. He screamed and cursed, for he 
 wanted to live. He had survived that terrible fall, 
 and it was his right. 
 
 Something white showed on the top of a sea to 
 leeward, and sank in a hollow. He sank with it, 
 and when he rose again it was nearer. 
 
 Boat ahoy ! he sang out boat ahoy ! This way 
 port a little steady ! 
 
 He swam as he could, cumbered by the life-buoy, 
 and with every heaving sea the boat came nearer. 
 At last he recognised it the ship s dinghy ; and 
 it was being pulled into the teeth of that forceful 
 wind and sea by a single rower a slight figure in 
 yellow. 
 
 It s Freda ! he exclaimed ; and then, in a shout : 
 This way, Miss Folsom a little farther ! 
 
 167 
 
From the 
 
 She turned, nodded, and pulled the boat up to him. 
 He seized the gunwale, and she took in the oars. 
 
 * Can you climb in alone, John ? she asked in an 
 even voice, as even as though she were asking him to 
 have more tea. Wait a little I am tired and I 
 will help you. 
 
 She was ever calm and dispassionate, but he 
 wondered at her now; yet he would not be out 
 done. 
 
 I ll climb over the stern, Freda, so as not to 
 capsize you. Better go forward to balance my 
 weight. * 
 
 She did so. He pulled himself to the stern, slipped 
 the life-buoy over his head and into the boat, then, 
 by a mighty exercise of all his strength, vaulted 
 aboard with seeming ease, and sat down on a thwart. 
 He felt a strong inclination to laughter and tears, 
 but repressed himself ; for masculine hysterics would 
 not do before this young woman. She came aft to 
 the next thwart, and when he felt steadier he said : 
 
 You have saved my life, Freda; but thanks are 
 idle now, for your own is in danger. Give me the 
 oars. We must get back to the ship. 
 
 She changed places with him, facing forward, and 
 said wearily, as he shipped the oars : So you want 
 to get back ? 
 
 Why, yes ; don t you ? We are adrift in an open 
 boat. 
 
 The wind is going down, and the seas do not 
 break, she answered, in the same weary voice. It 
 does not rain any more, and we shall have the 
 moon. 
 
 A glance around told him that she spoke truly. 
 There was less pressure to the wind, and the seas 
 rose and fell, sweeping past them like moving hills of 
 oil. Moonlight shining through thinning clouds faintly 
 illumined her face, and he noted the expressionless 
 
 168 
 
Royal- Yard down 
 
 weariness of her voice, and a sad, dreamy look in her 
 gray eyes. 
 
 * How did you get the dinghy down, Freda ? he 
 asked. And why did no one come with you ? 
 
 * Father was asleep, and the mate was incompetent. 
 I had my revolver, and they backed the yards for me 
 and threw the dinghy over. I had loosened the gripes 
 as you went aloft. I thought you would fall. Still, 
 no one would come. 
 
 And you came alone, he said in a broken voice, 
 and pulled this boat to windward in this sea ! You 
 are a wonder. 
 
 I saw you catch the life-buoy. Why did you fall ? 
 You were cautioned. 
 
 I forgot the foot-rope. I was thinking of you. 
 
 You are like the mate. He forgot the foot-rope 
 all day because he was thinking of me. I should 
 have gone aloft and seized it myself. 
 
 There was no reproof or sarcasm in the tired voice. 
 She had simply made an assertion. 
 
 Why are you at sea, before the mast a man of 
 your talents ? 
 
 It was foolish, he knew, but the word man sent a 
 thrill through him. 
 
 * To please you, if I may ; to cultivate what you did 
 not find in me. 
 
 Yes, I knew ; when you came on board I knew it. 
 But you might have spoken to me. 
 
 There was petulance in the tone now, and the soul 
 of the man rejoiced. The woman in her was asserting 
 itself. 
 
 Miss Folsom, he answered warmly, * I could not. 
 You had made it impossible. It was your right, your 
 duty, if you wished it. But you ignored my existence. 
 
 * I was testing you. I am glad now, Mr. Owen. 
 The petulance was gone, but there was something 
 
 chilling in this answer. 
 
 169 
 
From the 
 
 * Can you see the ship ? he asked, after a moment s 
 silence. The moonlight is stronger. 
 
 We shall not reach her. They have squared away. 
 The mate had the deck, and father is asleep. 
 
 And left you in an open boat ! he answered angrily. 
 
 He knew I was with you. 
 
 What was irrelevant in this explanation of the 
 mate s conduct escaped him at the time. The full 
 moon had emerged from behind the racing clouds, 
 and it brightened her face, fringed by the tangled 
 hair and yellow sou -wester, to an unearthly beauty 
 that he had never seen before. He wondered at it, 
 and for a moment a grisly thought crossed his mind 
 that this was not life, But death ; that he had died in 
 the fall, and in some manner the girl had followed. 
 
 She was standing erect, her lithe figure swaying to 
 the boat s motion, and pointing to leeward, while the 
 moonlit face was now sweetened by the smile of a 
 happy child. He stood up, and looked where she 
 pointed, but saw nothing, and seated himself to look 
 at her. 
 
 * See ! she exclaimed gleefully. They have hauled 
 out the spanker, and are sheeting home the royal. I 
 will never be married ! I will never be married ! He 
 knew I was with you. 
 
 Again he stood up and searched the sea to leeward. 
 There was nothing in sight. 
 
 Unhinged, he thought, by this night s trouble. 
 Freda, he said gently, please sit down. You may 
 fall overboard. 
 
 I am not insane, she said, as though reading his 
 thought; and, smiling radiantly in his face, she 
 obeyed him. 
 
 Do you know where we are ? he asked tentatively. 
 Are we in the track of ships ? 
 
 No, she answered, while her face took on the 
 dreamy look again. We are out of all the tracks ; 
 
 170 
 
Royal- Yard down 
 
 we will not be picked up. We are due west from 
 Ilio Island. I saw it at sundown broad on the star 
 board bow. The wind is due south. If you will pull 
 in the trough of the sea, we can reach it before day 
 light. I am tired so tired and sleepy. Will you 
 watch out? 
 
 Why, certainly. Lie down in the stern-sheets and 
 sleep if you can. 
 
 She curled up in her yellow oil-coat and slumbered 
 through the night, while he pulled easily on the oars 
 not that he had full faith in her navigation, but to 
 keep himself warm. The sea became smoother, and 
 as the moon rose higher it attained a brightness 
 almost equal to that of the sun, casting over the 
 clear sky a deep-blue tint that shaded indefinitely 
 into the darkness, extending from itself to the 
 horizon. Late in the night he remembered the 
 danger of sleeping in strong moonlight, and arising 
 softly to cover her face with his damp handkerchief, 
 he found her looking at him. 
 
 We are almost there, John. Wake me when we 
 arrive, she said, and closed her eyes. 
 
 He covered her face, and, marvelling at her words, 
 looked ahead. He was within a half-mile of a sandy 
 beach which bordered a wooded island. The sea was 
 now like glass in its level smoothness, and the air was 
 warm and fragrant with the smell of flowers and 
 foliage. He shipped the oars, and pulled to the 
 beach. As the boat grounded she arose, and he 
 helped her ashore. 
 
 The beach shone white under the moonlight, and 
 dotting it were large shellfish and moving crabs that 
 scuttled away from them. Bordering the beach were 
 forest and undergrowth, with interlacery of flowering 
 vines. A ridge of rocks near by disclosed caves and 
 hollows, some filled by the water of tinkling cascades. 
 Oranges showed in the branches of trees, and cocoa- 
 
 171 
 
From the 
 
 palms lifted their heads high in the distance. A 
 small deer arose, looked at them, and lay down, 
 while a rabbit inspected them from another direc 
 tion, and began nibbling. 
 
 * An earthly paradise, I should say, he observed, 
 as he hauled the boat up the beach. Plenty of food 
 and water, at any rate. 
 
 It is Ilio Island, she answered, with that same 
 dreamy voice. It is uninhabited and never visited. 
 
 But surely, Freda, something will come along and 
 take us off. 
 
 No ; if I am taken off, I must be married, of course; 
 and I will never be married. 
 
 Who to, Freda? Whom must you marry if we 
 are rescued ? 
 
 The mate Mr. Adams. Not you, John Owen 
 not you. I do not like you. 
 
 She was unbalanced, of course; but the speech 
 pained him immeasurably, and he made no answer. 
 He searched the clean-cut horizon for a moment, and 
 when he looked back she was close to him, with the 
 infantile smile on her face, candour and sanity in her 
 gray eyes. Involuntarily he extended his arms, and 
 she nestled within them. 
 
 You will be married, Freda, he said; you will 
 be married and to me. 
 
 He held her tightly and kissed her lips; but the 
 kiss ended in a crashing sound, and a shock of pain 
 in his whole body which expelled the breath from his 
 lungs. The moonlit island, sandy beach, blue sea 
 and sky were swallowed in a blaze of light, which 
 gave way to pitchy darkness, with rain on his face 
 and whistling wind in his ears, while he clung with 
 both arms, not to a girl, but to a hard, wet, and cold 
 mizzen - topgallant - yard whose iron jack-stay had 
 bumped him severely between the eyes. Below him 
 in the darkness a scream rang out, followed by the 
 
 172 
 
Royal-Yard down 
 
 roar of the mate : Are you all right up there ? Want 
 any help ? 
 
 He had fallen four feet. 
 
 When he could speak he answered : * I m all right, 
 sir. And catching the royal footrope dangling from 
 the end of the yard above him, he brought it to its 
 place, passed the seizing, and finished furling the 
 royal. But it was a long job ; his movements were 
 uncertain, for every nerve in his body was jumping 
 in its own inharmonious key. 
 
 What s the matter wi you up there ? demanded 
 the mate when he reached the deck ; and a yellow- 
 clad figure drew near to listen. 
 
 It was nothing, sir ; I forgot about the foot-rope. 
 
 You re a bigger lunkhead than I thought. Go 
 forrard. 
 
 He went, and when he came aft at four bells to 
 take his trick at the wheel, the girl was still on deck, 
 standing near the companion way, facing forward. 
 The mate stood at the other side of the binnacle, 
 looking at her, with one elbow resting on the house. 
 There was just light enough from the cabin skylight 
 for Owen to see the expression which came over his 
 face as he watched the graceful figure balancing to 
 the heave of the ship. It took on the same evil look 
 which he had seen in his fall, while there was no 
 mistaking the thought behind the gleam in his eyes. 
 The mate looked up into Owen s face and saw 
 something there which he must have understood ; for 
 he dropped his glance to the compass, snarled out, 
 * Keep her on the course, and stepped into the lee 
 alleyway, where the dinghy, lashed upside down on 
 the house, hid him from view. 
 
 The girl approached the man at the wheel. 
 
 I saw you fall, Mr. Owen, she said in a trembling 
 voice, and I could not help screaming. Were you 
 hurt much ? 
 
 173 
 
From the Royal-Yard down 
 
 No, Miss Folsom, he answered in a low, though 
 not a steady tone ; but I was sadly disappointed. 
 
 I confess I was nervous very nervous when you 
 went aloft, she said ; t and I cleared away the life 
 buoy. Then, when you fell, it slipped out of my 
 hand and went overboard. Mr. Adams scolded me. 
 Wasn t it ridiculous ? There were tears and laughter 
 in the speech. 
 
 Not at all, he said gravely ; it saved my life for 
 which I thank you. 
 
 How why 
 
 Who in Sam Hill s been casting off these gripe - 
 lashings ? growled the voice of the mate behind the 
 dinghy. 
 
 The girl tittered hysterically, and stepped beside 
 Owen at the wheel, where she patted the moving 
 spokes, pretending to assist him in steering. 
 
 * Miss Freda, said the officer sternly, as he came 
 around the corner of the house, I must ask you 
 plainly to let things alone ; and another thing, please 
 don t talk to the man at the wheel. 
 
 Will you please mind your own business ? she 
 almost screamed ; and then, crying and laughing 
 together : * If you paid as much attention to your 
 work as you do to to me, men wouldn t fall from 
 aloft on account of rotten foot-ropes. 
 
 The abashed officer went forward, grumbling about 
 * discipline and women aboard ship. When he was 
 well out of sight in the darkness, the girl turned 
 suddenly, passed both arms around Owen s neck, 
 exerted a very slight pressure, patted him playfully 
 on the shoulder as she withdrew them, and sped 
 down the companion-way. 
 
 He steered a wild course during that trick, and well 
 deserved the profane criticism which he received from 
 the mate. 
 
 174 
 
NEEDS MUST WHEN THE DEVIL 
 DRIVES 
 
 HOGGED at bow and stern, her deck sloped at the 
 ends like a truck s platform, while a slight twist in 
 the old hull canted the foremast to port and the 
 mizzen to starboard. It would be hard to know when 
 she was on an even keel. The uneven planking, 
 inboard and out, was scarred like a chopping-block, 
 possibly from a former and intimate acquaintance 
 with the coal trade. Aloft were dingy gray spars, 
 slack hemp rigging, untarred for years, and tan- 
 coloured sails, mended with patch upon patch of 
 lighter-hued canvas that seemed about to fall apart 
 from their own weight. She was English-built, barque- 
 rigged, bluff in the bow, square in the stern, unpainted 
 and leaky on the whole as unkempt and disreputable 
 looking a craft as ever flew the black flag ; and with 
 the clank of the pumps marking time to the wailing 
 squeak of the tiller-ropes, she wallowed through the 
 waves like a log in an eddying tideway. 
 
 Even the black flag at the gaff-end wore a make 
 shift, slovenly air. It was a square section of the 
 bark s foreroyal, painted black around the skull-and- 
 cross-bones design, which had been left the original 
 hue of the canvas. The port-holes were equally 
 slovenly in appearance, being cut through between 
 stanchions with axes instead of saws; and the bul- 
 
 175 
 
Needs must when 
 
 warks were further disfigured by extra holes smashed 
 through at the stanchions to take the lashings of the 
 gun-breechings. But the guns were bright and cared 
 for, as were the uniforms of the crew ; for they had 
 been lately transhipped. Far from home, with a 
 general cargo, this ancient trader had been taken in 
 a fog by Captain Swarth and his men an hour before 
 their own well-found vessel had sunk alongside 
 which gave them just time to hoist over guns and 
 ammunition. When the fog shifted, the pursuing 
 English war-brig that had riddled the pirate saw 
 nothing but the peaceful old tub ahead, and went on 
 into the fog, looking for the other. 
 
 Any port in a storm, Angel, remarked Captain 
 Swarth, as he flashed his keen eyes over the rickety 
 fabric aloft ; but we ll find a better one soon. How 
 do the boys stand the pumping ? 
 
 Mr. Angel Todd, first mate and quartermaster, 
 filled a black pipe before answering. Then, between 
 the first and second deep puffs, he said : Growlin 
 dammum. 
 
 At the work ? 
 
 Yep, and the grub. And they say the tween-deck 
 and forecastle smells o bedbugs and bilge-water, and 
 they want their grog. "An ungodly witness scorneth 
 judgment : and the mouth of the wicked devoureth 
 iniquity." Mr. Todd had been educated for the 
 pulpit ; but, going out as a missionary, he had fallen 
 into ungodly ways and taken to the sea, where he was 
 more successful. Many of his old phrasings clung to 
 him. 
 
 Well, drawled the captain, men get fastidious 
 and high-toned in this business can t blame them 
 but we ve got to make the coast, and if we don t pick 
 up something on the way, we must careen and stop 
 the leak. Then they ll have something to growl about. 
 
 S pose the brig follows us in ? 
 176 
 
the Devil drives 
 
 Hope she will, said Captain Swarth with a 
 pleasant smile and a lightening of his eyes hope 
 she will, and give me a chance. Her majestic widow- 
 ship owes me a brig, and that s a fine one. 
 
 Mr. Todd had never been known to smile, but at 
 this speech he lifted one eyebrow and turned his 
 saturnine face full at his superior, inquiry written 
 upon every line of it. Captain Swarth was musing, 
 however, and said no more ; so the mate, knowing 
 better than to attempt probing his mind, swung his 
 long figure down the poop-ladder, and went forward 
 to harass the men which, in their opinion, was all 
 he was good for. 
 
 According to his mood, Mr. Todd s speech was 
 choicest English or the cosmopolitan, technical slang 
 of the sea, mingled with wonderful profanity. But 
 one habit of his early days he never dropped : he 
 wore, in the hottest weather, and in storm and battle, 
 the black frock and choker of his clerical profession. 
 Standing now with one foot on the fore-hatch, waving 
 his long arms and objurgating the scowling men at 
 the pumps, he might easily have seemed, to anyone 
 beyond the reach of his language, to be a clergy 
 man exhorting them. Captain Swarth watched him 
 with an amused look on his sunburnt face, and 
 muttered : Good man, every inch of him, but he 
 can t handle men. Then he called him aft. 
 
 Angel, he said, we made a mistake in cutting 
 the ports ; we can t catch anything afloat that sees 
 them, so we ll have to pass for a peaceable craft until 
 we can drift close enough to board something. I 
 think the brig 11 be back this way, too. Get out some 
 old tarpaulins and cover up the ports. Paint them, 
 if you can, the colour of the sides, and you might 
 coil some lines over the rail, as though to dry. Then 
 you can break out cargo and strike the guns down the 
 main-hatch. 
 
 177 N 
 
Needs must when 
 
 Three days later, with Cape St. Eoque a black line 
 to the westward, a round shot across her bows brought 
 the old vessel minus the black emblem now, and 
 outwardly respectable up to the wind, with main- 
 topsail aback, while Captain Swarth and a dozen of 
 his men equally respectable in the nondescript rig 
 of the merchant sailor watched the approach of an 
 English brig of war. Mr. Todd and the rest of the 
 crew were below hatches with the guns. 
 
 The brig came down the wind like a graceful bird 
 a splendid craft, black, shiny and shipshape, five guns 
 to a side, brass-bound officers on her quarter-deck, 
 bluejackets darting about her white deck and up 
 aloft, a homeward-bound pennant trailing from her 
 main-truck, and at her gaff-end a British ensign as 
 large as her mainroyal. Captain Swarth lazily 
 hoisted the English flag to the barque s gaff, and, as 
 the brig rounded to on his weather beam, he pointed 
 to it ; but his dark eyes sparkled enviously as he 
 viewed the craft whose Government s protection he 
 appealed to. 
 
 * Barque ahoy! came a voice through a trumpet. 
 What barque is that ? 
 
 Captain Swarth swung himself into the mizzen- 
 rigging, and answered through his hands with an 
 excellent cockney accent : * Tryde Wind o Lunnon, 
 Cappen Quirk, fifty-one dyes out fro Liverpool, bound 
 to Callao, gen ral cargo. 
 
 You were not heading for the Horn. 
 
 * Hi m a-leakin badly. Hi m a-goin to myke the 
 coast to careen. D ye happen to know a good place? 
 
 An officer left the group and returned with what 
 Captain Swarth knew was a chart, which a few of 
 them studied, while their captain hailed again : 
 
 * See anything more of that pirate brig the other 
 day? 
 
 What ! a pirate ? Be e a pirate ? answered 
 
the Devil drives 
 
 Captain Swarth in agitated tones. Be that you 
 a-chasin of im ? Nao, hi seed nothink of im arter 
 the fog shut im out. 
 
 The captain conferred with his officers a moment, 
 then called : 
 
 We are going in to careen ourselves. That fellow 
 struck us on the water-line. We are homeward bound, 
 and Kio s too far to run back. Follow us in ; but if 
 you lose sight of us, it s a small bay, latitude nine 
 fifty-one forty south, rocks to the north, lowland to 
 the south, good water at the entrance, and a fine 
 beach. Look out for the brig. It s Swarth and his 
 gang. Good-morning. 
 
 * Ay, that hi will. Thank ye. Good-morninY 
 
 In three hours the brig was a speck under the rising 
 land ahead ; in another, she was out of sight ; but 
 before this Captain Swarth and his crew had held a 
 long conference, which resulted in sail being shortened, 
 though the man at the wheel was given a straight 
 course to the bay described by the English Captain. 
 
 Late in the following afternoon the old barque 
 blundered into this bay a rippling sheet of water, 
 bag-shaped, and bordered on all sides by a sandy 
 beach. Stretching up to the mountainous country 
 was a luxurious forest of palm, laurel and cactus, 
 bound and intertwined by almost impassable under 
 growth, and about half-way from the entrance to the 
 end of the bay was the English brig, moored and 
 slightly careened on the inshore beach. Captain 
 Swarth s seamanly eye noted certain appearances of 
 the tackles that held her down which told him that 
 the work was done and she was being slacked upright. 
 Just in time ! he muttered. 
 
 They brought the barque to anchor near the beach, 
 about a half-mile from the brig, furled the canvas, 
 and ran out an anchor astern, with the cable over the 
 taffrail. Heaving on this, they brought the vessel 
 
 179 N 2 
 
Needs must when 
 
 parallel with the shore. So far, good. Guns and 
 cargo lightered ashore, more anchors seaward to keep 
 her off the beach, masthead tackles to the trees to 
 heave her down, and preventer rigging and braces to 
 assist the masts, would have been next in order, but 
 they proceeded no further toward careening. Instead, 
 they lowered the two crazy boats, provisioned and 
 armed them on the inshore side of the barque, made 
 certain other preparations and waited. 
 
 On the deck of the English brig things were moving. 
 A gang of bluejackets, under the first lieutenant, were 
 heaving in the cable ; another gang, under the boat 
 swain, were sending down and stowing away the heavy 
 tackles and careening-gear, tailing out halyards and 
 sheets and coiling down the light-running rigging, 
 while topmen aloft loosed the canvas to bunt-gaskets, 
 ready to drop it at the call from the deck. 
 
 The second lieutenant, overseeing this latter, paced 
 the port quarter-deck and answered remarks from 
 Captain Bunce, who paced the sacred starboard side 
 (the brig being at anchor) and occasionally turned 
 his glass on the dilapidated craft down the beach. 
 
 Seems to me, Mr. Shack, he said across the deck, 
 that an owner who would send that barque around the 
 Horn, and the master who would take her, ought to 
 be sequestered and cared for, either in an asylum or 
 in gaol. 
 
 Yes, sir, I think so too, answered the second 
 lieutenant, looking aloft. Might be an insurance job. 
 Clear away that bunt-gasket on the royal-yard, he 
 added in a roar. 
 
 Captain Bunce round, rosy, with brilliant mutton- 
 chop whiskers muttered : Insurance wrecked in 
 tentionally no, not here where we are ; wouldn t 
 court investigation by Her Majesty s officers. He 
 rolled forward, then aft, and looked again through 
 the glass. 
 
 180 
 
the Devil drives 
 
 Very large crew very large, he said; very 
 curious, Mr. Shack. 
 
 A hail from the forecastle, announcing that the 
 anchor was short, prevented Mr. Shack s answering. 
 Captain Bunce waved a deprecatory hand to the first 
 lieutenant, who came aft at once, while Mr. Shack 
 descended to the waist, and the boatswain ascended 
 the forecastle steps to attend to the anchor. The 
 first lieutenant now had charge of the brig, and from 
 the quarter-deck gave his orders to the crew, while 
 Captain Bunce busied himself with his glass and his 
 thoughts. 
 
 Fore-and-aft sail was set and head-sheets trimmed 
 down to port, square sails were dropped, sheeted 
 home, and hoisted, foreyards braced to port, the 
 anchor tripped and fished, and the brig paid off from 
 the land-breeze, and, with foreyards swung, steadied 
 down to a course for the entrance. 
 
 Mr. Duncan, said the captain, there are fully 
 forty men on that barque s deck, all dressed alike all 
 in red shirts and knitted caps and all dancing 
 around like madmen. Look ! He handed the glass 
 to the first lieutenant, who brought it to bear. 
 
 Strange, said the officer, after a short scrutiny; 
 there were only a few showing when we spoke her 
 outside. It looks as though they were all drunk. 
 
 As they drew near, sounds of singing uproarious 
 discord reached them, and soon they could see with 
 the naked eye that the men on the barque were 
 wrestling, dancing, and running about. 
 
 Quarters, sir ? inquired Mr. Duncan. Shall we 
 bring to alongside ? 
 
 Well no not yet, said the captain hesitatingly; 
 it s all right possibly; yet it is strange. Wait a 
 little. 
 
 They waited, and had sailed down almost abreast 
 of the gray old craft, noticing, as they drew near, an 
 
 181 
 
Needs must when 
 
 appreciable diminution of the uproar, when a flag 
 arose from the stern of the barque, a dusky flag that 
 straightened out directly towards them, so that it was 
 difficult to make out. 
 
 But they soon understood. As they reached a 
 point squarely abreast of the barque, five points of 
 flame burst from her innocent gray sides, five clouds 
 of smoke ascended, and five round shot, coming with 
 the thunder of the guns, hurtled through their rigging. 
 Then they saw the design of the flag, a white skull 
 and cross-bones, and noted another, a black flag too, 
 but pennant- shaped, and showing in rudely painted 
 letters the single word Swarth, sailing up to the 
 forepeak. 
 
 Thunder and lightning! roared Captain Bunce. 
 Quarters, Mr. Duncan, quarters, and in with the 
 kites. Give it to them. Put about first. 
 
 A youngster of the crew had sprung below and 
 immediately emerged with a drum, which, without 
 definite instruction, he hammered vigorously; but 
 before he had begun, men were clearing away guns 
 and manning flying-jib downhaul and royal clue- 
 lines. Others sprang to stations, anticipating all that 
 the sharp voice of the first lieutenant could order. 
 Around came the brig on the other tack and sailed 
 back, receiving another broadside through her rigging 
 and answering with her starboard guns. Then for a 
 time the din was deafening. The brig backed her 
 main-yards and sent broadside after broadside into 
 the hull of the old craft. But it was not until the 
 eighth had gone that Captain Bunce noticed through 
 the smoke that the pirates were not firing. The 
 smoke from the burning canvas port-coverings had 
 deluded him. He ordered a cessation. Fully forty 
 solid shot had torn through that old hull near the 
 water-line, and not a man could now be seen on her 
 deck. 
 
 182 
 
the Devil drives 
 
 Out with the boats, Mr. Duncan, he said ; they re 
 drunk or crazy, but they re the men we want. Capture 
 them. 
 
 Suppose they run, sir suppose they take to their 
 boats and get into the woods shall we follow ? 
 
 * No, not past the beach not into an ambush. 
 
 The four boatloads of men which put off from the 
 brig found nothing but a deserted deck on the sinking 
 barque and two empty boats hauled up on the beach. 
 The pirates were in the woods, undoubtedly, having 
 kept the barque between themselves and the brig as 
 they pulled ashore. While the bluejackets clustered 
 around the bows of their boats and watched nervously 
 the line of forest up the beach, from which bullets 
 might come at any time, the two lieutenants conferred 
 for a few moments, and had decided to put back, 
 when a rattling chorus of pistol reports sounded from 
 the depths of the woods. It died away; then was 
 heard a crashing of bush and branch, and out upon 
 the sands sprang a figure a long, weird figure in 
 black frock of clerical cut. Into their midst it sped 
 with mighty bounds, and sinking down, lifted a glad 
 face to the heavens with the groaning utterance : 
 God, I thank Thee ! Protect me, gentlemen protect 
 me from those wicked men. 
 
 What is it ? Who are you ? asked Mr. Duncan. 
 Were they shooting at you ? 
 
 Yes, at me, who never harmed a fly. They would 
 have killed me. My name is Todd. Oh, such 
 suffering ! But you will protect me ? You are 
 English officers. You are not pirates and murderers. 
 
 But what has happened? Do you live around 
 here ? 
 
 It took some time for Mr. Todd to quiet down 
 sufficiently to tell his story coherently. He was an 
 humble labourer in the vineyard of the Lord. He 
 had gleaned among the poorest of the native popula- 
 
 183 
 
Needs must when 
 
 tion in the outskirts of Eio de Janeiro until his health 
 suffered, and had taken passage home in a passenger- 
 ship, which, ten days out, was captured by a pirate 
 brig. And the pirate crew had murdered every soul 
 on board but himself, and only spared his life, as he 
 thought, for the purpose of amusement ; for they had 
 compelled him to dance he, a minister of the Gospel ! 
 and had made him drink under torture, and recite 
 ribald poetry, and swear, and wash their clothes. All 
 sorts of indignities had been heaped upon him, but 
 he had remembered the injunction of the Master : he 
 had invariably turned the other cheek when smitten, 
 and had prayed for their souls. He told of the flight 
 from the English war-brig, of the taking of the old 
 barque in the fog and the sinking of the pirate craft, 
 of the transfer of guns and treasure to the barque, 
 and the interview at sea with the English brig, in 
 which Captain Swarth had deceived the other, and of 
 Captain Swarth s reckless confidence in himself, which 
 had induced him to follow the brig in and careen in 
 the same bay. He wound up his tale with a lurid 
 description of the drunken debauch following the 
 anchoring of the barque during which he had 
 trembled for his life of the insane firing on the brig 
 as she passed, and the tumbling into the boats when 
 the brig returned the fire, of the flight into the woods, 
 the fighting among themselves, and his escape under 
 fire. 
 
 As he finished he offered an incoherent prayer of 
 thankfulness, and the sympathetic Mr. Shack drew 
 forth his pocket-flask and offered it to the agitated 
 sufferer; but Mr. Todd, who could probably drink 
 more whisky and feel it less than any other man in 
 the pirate crew, declined the poison with a shiver of 
 abhorrence. Then Mr. Duncan, who had listened 
 thoughtfully, said : You speak of treasure ; did they 
 take it with them ? 
 
 184 
 
the Devil drives 
 
 Mr. Todd opened wide his eyes, looked towards the 
 dark shades of the forest, then at the three masts of 
 the barque rising out of the water, and answered 
 impressively : 
 
 * Gentlemen, they did not. They were intoxicated, 
 mad with liquor. They took arms and a knapsack of 
 food to each man ; they spoke of an inland retreat to 
 which they were going; but the treasure from the 
 passenger-ship the bars of gold and the bags of 
 diamonds they forgot. They transferred it from 
 their sinking vessel when sober, but when intoxicated 
 they remembered food and left it behind. Gentlemen, 
 there is untold wealth in the hull out there which 
 your fire has sunk. It is, verily, the root of all evil ; 
 let us hope that it remains at the bottom of the sea. 
 
 Bars of gold bags of diamonds ! said Mr. Duncan. 
 Come on board, Mr. Todd ; we ll see what the captain 
 thinks. 
 
 At dinner in the brig s cabin that evening as a 
 prelude to which Mr. Todd said grace his account of 
 the wealth spread out on Captain Swarth s cabin 
 table after the taking of the passenger-ship was some 
 thing to arouse interest in a less worldly man than 
 Captain Bunce. Virgin gold in bars, ingots, bricks, 
 and dust from the Morro Velho mines of Brazil was 
 there, piled up on the table until the legs had given 
 way and launched the glittering mass to the floor. 
 Diamonds uncut, uncounted, of untold value a three 
 years product of the whole Chapada district some 
 as large as walnuts, had been spread out and tossed 
 about like marbles by those lawless men, then boxed 
 up with the gold and stowed among the cargo under 
 the main-hatch. Again Mr. Todd expressed the hope 
 that Providence would see fit to let this treasure 
 remain where the pirates had left it, no longer to 
 tempt man to kill and steal. But Captain Bunce and 
 his officers thought differently. Glances, then tenta- 
 
 185 
 
Needs must when 
 
 tive comments, were exchanged, and in five minutes 
 they were of one mind, even including Mr. Todd ; for 
 it may not be needless to state that the treasure and 
 the passenger- ship existed only in his imagination. 
 
 Pending the return of the boats the brig s anchor 
 had been dropped about two hundred yards from the 
 barque ; now canvas was furled, and at eight bells all 
 hands were mustered aft to hear what was in store. 
 Captain Bunce stated the case succinctly ; they were 
 homeward bound and under general orders until they 
 reported to the admiral at Plymouth. Treasure was 
 within their reach, apportionable, when obtained, as 
 prize-money. It was useless to pursue the pirates 
 into the Brazilian jungle ; but they would need to be 
 watchful and ready for surprise at any moment, either 
 while at work raising the barque or at night; for 
 though they had brought out the two boats in which 
 the pirates had escaped, they could find other means 
 of attack should they dare or care to make it. The 
 English sailors cheered. Mr. Todd begged to say a 
 few words, and enjoined them not to allow the love of 
 lucre to tempt their minds from the duty they owed to 
 their God, their country, and their captain, which was 
 also applauded and forgotten in a moment. Then, 
 leaving a double-anchor watch, provided with blue 
 fire and strict instructions, on deck, the crew turned 
 in to dream of an affluent future, and Mr. Todd was 
 shown to a comfortable state-room. He removed his 
 coat and vest, closed the door and dead-light, filled 
 and lighted his black pipe, and rolled into the berth 
 with a seaman s sigh of contentment. 
 
 1 That was a good dinner, he murmured, after he 
 had filled the room with smoke a good dinner. 
 Nothing on earth is too good for a sky-pilot. I d go 
 back to the business when I ve made my pile if it 
 wasn t so all-fired hard on the throat ; and then the 
 trustees, with their eternal kicking on economy, and 
 
 186 
 
the Devil drives 
 
 the sisters, and the donation-parties yah, to h 1 
 with em ! Wonder if this brig ever carried a chap 
 lain. Wonder how Bill and the boys are making 
 out. Fine brig this ! leven knots on a bow-line, 
 I ll bet fine state-room, good grub, nothin to do 
 but save souls and preach the Word on Sunday ! 
 Guess I ll strike the fat duffer for the job in 
 
 the morn The rest of the sentence merged into 
 
 a snore, and Mr. Todd slept through the night in the 
 fumes of tobacco, which so permeated his very being 
 that Captain Bunce remarked it at breakfast. * Smoke, 
 Captain Bunce? I smoke? Not I! he answered 
 warmly ; but, you see, those ungodly men compelled 
 me to clean all their pipes forty foul pipes and I 
 do not doubt that some nicotine has lodged on my 
 clothing. W T hereupon Captain Bunce told of a chap 
 lain he had once sailed with whose clothing smelled 
 so vilely that he himself had framed a petition to the 
 admiral for his transfer to another ship and station. 
 And the little story had the effect on Mr. Todd of 
 causing him mentally to vow that he d ship with no 
 man who didn t allow smoking, and openly aver that 
 no sincere, consistent Christian clergyman would be 
 satisfied to stultify himself and waste his energies in 
 the comfort and ease of a naval chaplaincy, and that 
 a chaplain who would smoke should be discredited 
 and forced out of the profession. But later, when 
 Captain Bunce and his officers lighted fat cigars, and 
 he learned that the aforesaid chaplain had merely 
 been a careless devotee of pipe and pigtail twist, 
 Mr. Todd s feelings may be imagined (by a smoker) ; 
 but he had committed himself against tobacco and 
 must suffer. 
 
 During the breakfast the two lieutenants reported 
 the results of a survey which they had taken of the 
 wreck at daylight. 
 
 We find, said Mr. Duncan, about nine feet of 
 
Needs must when 
 
 water over the deck at the stern, and about three feet 
 over the fore-hatch at low tide. The topgallant-fore 
 castle is awash and the end of the bowsprit out of 
 water, so that we can easily reach the upper ends of 
 the bobstays. There is about five feet rise and fall of 
 tide. Now, we have no pontoons or casks. Our only 
 plan, captain, is to lift her bodily. 
 
 * But we have a diving-suit and air-pump, said 
 Mr. Shack enthusiastically, and fifty men ready to 
 dive without suits. We can raise her, captain, in two 
 weeks. 
 
 Gentlemen, said Captain Bunce grandly, * I have 
 full faith in your seamanship and skill. I leave the 
 work in your hands. Which was equivalent to an 
 admission that he was fat and lazy, and did not care 
 to take an active part. 
 
 Thank you, sir, said Mr. Duncan, and * Thank 
 you, sir, said Mr. Shack ; then the captain said other 
 pleasant things, which brought other pleasant re 
 sponses, and the breakfast passed off so agreeably that 
 Mr. Todd, in spite of the soul-felt yearning for a 
 smoke inspired by the cigars in the mouths of the 
 others, felt the influence of the enthusiasm and be 
 stowed his blessing qualifiedly on the enterprise. 
 
 Every man of the brig s crew was eager for the 
 work, but few could engage at first; for there was 
 nothing but the forecastle-deck and the barque s 
 rigging to stand upon. Down came the disgraceful 
 black flags the first thing, and up to the gaff went the 
 ensign of Britain. Then they sent down the fore 
 and main lower and topsail yards, and erected them 
 as sheers over the bow and stern, lower ends well 
 socketed in spare anchor-stocks to prevent their sink 
 ing in the sand, upper ends lashed together and 
 stayed to each other and to the two anchors ahead 
 and astern. To the two sheer-heads they rigged 
 heavy threefold tackles, and to the disconnected bob- 
 
 188 
 
the Devil drives 
 
 stays (chains leading from the bowsprit end to the 
 stem at the water-line) they hooked the forward tackle, 
 and heaving on the submerged windlass, lifted the 
 bow off the bottom high enough to enable them to 
 slip two shots of anchor-chain under the keel, one to 
 take the weight at the stern, the other at the bow, for 
 the bobstays would pull out of the stem under the 
 increased strain as the barque arose. 
 
 Most of this work was done under water ; but a 
 wetting is nothing to men looking for gold, and nobody 
 cared. Yet, as a result of ruined uniforms, the order 
 came from Captain Bunce to wear underclothing 
 only or go naked, which latter the men preferred, 
 though the officers clung to decency and tarry duck 
 trousers. Every morning the day began with the 
 washing of the brig s deck and scouring of brass work 
 which must be done at sea though the heavens fall ; 
 then followed breakfast, the arming of the boats ready 
 for an attack from the shore, and the descent upon 
 the barque of as many men as could work. 
 
 Occasionally Captain Bunce would order the dinghy, 
 and, accompanied by Mr. Todd, would visit the barque 
 and offer interfering suggestions, after the manner of 
 captains, which only embarrassed the officers ; and 
 Mr. Todd would take advantage of these occasions to 
 make landlubberly comments and show a sad ignor 
 ance of things nautical. But often he would decline 
 the invitation, and when the captain was gone would 
 descend to his room, and, shutting the door, grip his 
 beloved though empty black pipe between his teeth 
 and breathe through it, while his eyes shone fiercely 
 with unsatisfied desire, and his mind framed silent 
 malediction on Bill Swarth for condemning him to 
 this smokeless sojourn. For he dared not smoke ; 
 stewards, cooks, and sailors were all about him. 
 
 In three days the barque s nose was as high as the 
 seven-part tackle would bring it, with all men heaving 
 
 189 
 
Needs must when 
 
 who could find room at the windlass-brakes. Then 
 they clapped a luff-tackle on the fall, and by heaving 
 on this, nippering and fleeting up, they lifted the fore- 
 hatch and forecastle scuttle out of water which was 
 enough. Before this another gang had been able to 
 slip the other chain to position abaft the mizzenmast, 
 hook on the tackle, and lead the fall through a snatch- 
 block at the quarter-bitts forward to the midship 
 capstan. Disdaining the diving -suit, they swam 
 down nine feet to do these things, and when they 
 had towed the rope forward they descended seven 
 feet to wind it around the capstan and ship the bars, 
 which they found in a rack at the mainmast. 
 
 A man in the water weighs practically nothing, 
 and to heave around a capstan under water requires 
 lateral resistance. To secure this they dived with 
 hammers and nails, and fastened a circle of cleats 
 to catch their feet. Then, with a boy on the main 
 fife-rail (his head out) holding slack, eighteen men 
 three to a bar would inhale all the air their lungs 
 could hold, and, with a One, two, three, would 
 flounder down, push the capstan around a few pawls, 
 and come up gasping and blue in the face, to perch 
 on their bars and recover. It went slowly, this end, 
 but in three days more they could walk around with 
 their heads above water. 
 
 The next day was Sunday, and they were entitled 
 to rest ; but the flavour of wealth had entered their 
 souls, and they petitioned the captain for privilege to 
 work, which was granted, to the satisfaction of the 
 officers, and against the vigorous protest of Mr. Todd, 
 who had prepared a sermon, and borrowed clean linen 
 from Mr. Shack in which to deliver it. 
 
 With luff-tackles on the fall, they hove the stern 
 up until the cabin doors and all deck-openings but 
 the main-hatch were out of water, and then, with 
 the barque hanging to the sheers as a swinging-cradle 
 
 190 
 
the Devil drives 
 
 hangs from its supports, some assisted the carpenter 
 and his mates in building up and calking an upward 
 extension of the main-hatch coaming that reached 
 above water at high tide, while others went over the 
 side looking for the shot-holes of eight broadsides. 
 These, when found, were covered with planking, 
 followed by canvas, nails being driven with shackles, 
 sounding-leads, and stones from the bottom, in the 
 hands of naked men clinging to weighted stagings 
 men whose eyes protruded, whose lungs ached, whose 
 brains were turning. 
 
 Then, and before a final inspection by the boatswain 
 in the diving-suit assured them that the last shothole 
 was covered, they began bailing from the main-hatch, 
 and when the water perceptibly lowered the first 
 index of success a feverish yell arose and continued, 
 while nude lunatics wrestled and floundered waist- 
 deep on the flooded deck. The barque s pumps were 
 manned and worked under water, baling-pumps 
 square tubes with one valve were made and plunged 
 up and down in each hatch, whips were rigged, and 
 buckets rose and fell until the obstructing cargo 
 confined the work to the barque s pumps. Can- 
 hooks replaced the buckets on the whips, then boxes 
 and barrels were hoisted, broken into, and thrown 
 overboard, until the surface of the bay was dotted 
 with them. They drifted back and forth with the 
 tide, some stranding on the beach, others floating 
 seaward through the inlet. And all the time that 
 they worked, sharp eyes had watched through the 
 bushes, and a few miles inland, in a glade sur 
 rounded by the giant trees of the Brazilian forest, 
 red-shirted men lolled and smoked and grew fat, 
 while they discussed around the central fire the 
 qualities of barbecued wild oxen, roast opossum and 
 venison, and criticised the seamanship of the English 
 men. 
 
 191 
 
Needs must when 
 
 With a clear deck to work on, every man and boy 
 of the brig s crew, except the idlers (stewards, cooks, 
 and servants), was requisitioned, and boxes flew 
 merrily; but night closed down on the tenth day 
 of their labour without sign of the treasure, and 
 now Mr. Todd, who had noticed a shade of testiness 
 in the queries of the officers as to the exact location 
 of the gold and diamonds, expressed a desire to climb 
 the rigging next afternoon, a feat he had often wished 
 to perform, which he did clumsily, going through the 
 lubber s hole ; and, seated in the maintop with Mr. 
 Duncan s Bible, he remained in quiet meditation and 
 apparent reading and prayer until the tropic day 
 changed to sudden twilight and darkness, and the 
 hysterical crew returned. Then he came down to 
 dinner. 
 
 In the morning the work was resumed, and more 
 boxes sprinkled the bay. They drifted up with the 
 flood, and came back with the ebb-tide ; but among 
 them now were about forty others, unobserved by 
 Captain Bunce, pacing his quarter-deck, but noted 
 keenly by Mr. Todd. These forty drifted slowly to 
 the offshore side of the brig and stopped, bobbing 
 up and down on the crisp waves, even though the 
 wind blew briskly with the tide, and they should 
 have gone on with the others. It was then that 
 Captain Bunce stepped below for a cigar, and it was 
 then that Mr. Todd became strangely excited, hopping 
 along the port-rail and throwing overboard every 
 rope s end within reach, to the wonder and scandal 
 of an open-eyed steward in the cabin door, who imme 
 diately apprised the captain. 
 
 Captain Bunce, smoking a freshly-lit cigar, emerged 
 to witness a shocking sight the good and godly Mr. 
 Todd, with an intense expression on his sombre 
 countenance, holding a match to a black pipe and 
 puffing vigorously, while through the ports and over 
 
 192 
 
the Devil drives 
 
 the rail red-shirted men, dripping wet and scowling, 
 were boarding his brig. Each man carried a cutlass 
 and twelve-inch knife, and Captain Bunce needed no 
 special intelligence to know that he was tricked. 
 
 One hail only he gave, and Mr. Todd, his pipe 
 glowing like a hot coal, was upon him. The captain 
 endeavoured to draw his sword, but sinewy arms en 
 circled him; his cigar was removed from his lips, 
 and inserted in the mouth of Mr. Todd alongside 
 the pipe ; then he was lifted, spluttering with 
 astonishment and rage, borne to the rail, and dropped 
 overboard, his sword clanking against the side as he 
 descended. When he came to the surface and looked 
 up, he saw, through a cloud of smoke, on the rail the 
 lantern jaws of Mr. Todd working convulsively on 
 pipe and cigar, and heard the angry utterance : Yes, 
 
 d n ye, I smoke ! Then a vibrant voice behind 
 
 Mr. Todd roared out : Kill nobody toss em over 
 board ! and the captain saw his servants, cooks, and 
 stewards tumbling over to join him. 
 
 Captain Bunce turned and swam ; there was 
 nothing else to do. Soon he could see a black- 
 eyed, black - moustached man on his quarter-deck 
 delivering orders, and he recognised the thundering 
 voice, but none of the cockney accent, of Captain 
 Quirk. Men were already on the yards loosing 
 canvas, and as he turned on his back to rest 
 for, though fleshy and buoyant, swimming in full 
 uniform fatigued him he saw his anchor - chains 
 whizzing out the hawse-pipes. 
 
 He was picked up by the first boat to put off from 
 the barque, and ordered pursuit ; but this was soon 
 seen to be useless. The clean-lined brig had stern- 
 way equal to the best speed of the boats, and now 
 head-sails were run up, and she paid off from the 
 shore. Topsails were sheeted home and hoisted, 
 she gathered way, and, with topgallant- sails and 
 
 193 o 
 
Needs must when the Devil drives 
 
 royals, spanker and staysails, following in quick 
 succession, the beautiful craft hummed down to the 
 inlet and put to sea, while yells of derision occa 
 sionally came back to the white-faced men in the 
 boats. 
 
 A month later the rehabilitated old barque also 
 staggered out the entrance, and, with a naked, half- 
 starved crew and sad-eyed, dilapidated officers, headed 
 southward for Kio de Janeiro. 
 
 194 
 
WHEN GREEK MEETS GREEK 
 
 * Thrice is he armed that hath his quarrel just. 
 
 BARD OF AVON. 
 
 4 But 4 times he who gits hiz bio in fust. 
 
 JOSH BILLINGS. 
 
 CAPTAIN WILLIAM BELCHIOE was more than a martinet. 
 He was known as * Bucko Belchior in every port 
 where the English language is spoken, having earned 
 this prefix by the earnest readiness with which, in his 
 days as second and chief mate, he would whirl belay- 
 ing-pins, heavers, and handspikes about the decks, 
 and by his success in knocking down, tricing up, and 
 working up sailors who displeased him. With a blow 
 of his fist he had broken the jaw of a man helplessly 
 ironed in the tween-deck, and on the same voyage, 
 armed with a simple belaying-pin, had sprung alone 
 into a circle of brandishing sheath-knives and quelled 
 a mutiny. He was short, broad, beetle-browed, and 
 gray-eyed, of undoubted courage, but with the quality 
 of sympathy left out of his nature. 
 
 During the ten years in which he had been in com 
 mand he was relieved of much of the executive work 
 that had made him famous when he stood watch, 
 but was always ready to justify his reputation as a 
 * bucko should friction with the crew occur past the 
 power of his officers to cope with. His ship, the 
 
 195 o 2 
 
When Greek 
 
 Wilmington, a skysail-yard clipper, was rated by sailor- 
 men as the hottest craft under the American flag, 
 and Captain Belchior himself was spoken of by Consuls 
 and Commissioners, far and near, as a man peculiarly 
 unfortunate in his selection of men ; for never a pas 
 sage ended but he was complainant against one or 
 more heavily-ironed and badly used-up members of 
 his crew. 
 
 His officers were, in the language of one of these 
 defendants, * o the same breed o dorg. No others 
 could or would sign with him. His crews were in 
 variably put on board in the stream or at anchorage, 
 never at the dock. Drunk when coerced by the board 
 ing - masters into signing the ship s articles, kept 
 drunk until delivery, they were driven or hoisted up 
 the side like animals some in a stupor from drink or 
 drugs, some tied hand and foot, struggling and cursing 
 with returning reason. 
 
 Equipped thus, the Wilmington, bound for Mel 
 bourne, discharged her tug and pilot off Sandy Hook 
 one summer morning, and, with a fresh quartering 
 wind and raising sea, headed for the south-east. The 
 day was spent in getting her sail on, and in the lick 
 ing into shape of the men as fast as they recovered 
 their senses. Oaths and missiles flew about the deck, 
 knock-downs were frequent, and by eight bells in the 
 evening, when the two mates chose the watches 
 much as boys choose sides in a ball game the sailors 
 were well convinced that their masters lived aft. 
 
 Three men, long-haired fellows, sprawling on the 
 main-hatch, helpless from seasickness, were left to the 
 last in the choosing and then hustled into the light 
 from the near-by galley-door to be examined. They 
 had been dragged from the forecastle at the mate s 
 call for all hands. 
 
 * Call yourselves able seamen, I suppose ? he said, 
 with an oath, as he glared into their woebegone faces* 
 
 196 
 
meets Greek 
 
 1 No, pard, said the tallest and oldest of the three 
 in a weak voice. We re not seamen ; we don t know 
 how we got here, neither. 
 
 The mate s answer was a fist-blow under the ear 
 that sent the man headlong into the scuppers, where 
 he lay quiet. 
 
 * Say " sir " when you speak to me, you bandy 
 legged farmers ! he snarled, glowering hard at the 
 other two, as they leaned against the water-tank. 
 I m " pard " to none of ye. 
 
 They made him no answer, and he turned away in 
 contempt. Mr. Tomm, he called, * want these 
 Ethiopians in your watch ? 
 
 No, sir, said the second mate ; I don t want em. 
 They re no more use an a spare pump. 
 
 I ll make em useful fore I m done with em ! Go 
 forrard, you three ! Get the bile out o yer gizzards 
 fore mornin , f ye value yer good looks ! He de 
 livered a vicious kick at each of the two standing 
 men, bawled out, Believe the wheel an lookout 
 that ll do the watch, and went aft, while the crew 
 assisted the seasick men to the forecastle and into 
 three bedless bunks bedless because sailors must 
 furnish their own, and these men had been shang 
 haied. 
 
 The wind died away during the night, and they 
 awoke in the morning with their seasickness gone 
 and appetites ravenous. Sombre and ominous was 
 their bearing as they silently ate of the breakfast in 
 the forecastle and stepped out on deck with the rest 
 in answer to the mate s roar, All hands spread dun 
 nage ! Having no dunnage but what they wore, they 
 drew off toward the windlass and conferred together 
 while chests and bags were dragged out on deck and 
 overhauled by the officers for whisky and sheath- 
 knives. What they found of the former they pocketed, 
 and of the latter tossed overboard. 
 
 197 
 
When Greek 
 
 * Where are the canal-drivers ? demanded the chief 
 mate, as he raised his head from the last chest. 
 Where are our seasick gentlemen, who sleep all 
 
 night What what ! he added in a stupor of 
 
 surprise. 
 
 He was looking down three eight-inch barrels of 
 three heavy Colt revolvers, cocked, and held by three 
 scowling, sunburnt men, each of whom was tucking 
 with disengaged left hand the corner of a shirt into a 
 waistband, around which was strapped a belt full of 
 cartridges. 
 
 Hands up! snapped the tall man; hands up, 
 every one of ye ! Up with em over yer heads that s 
 right! The pistols wandered around the heads of 
 the crowd, and every hand was elevated. 
 
 What s this ? What d ye mean ? Put them pistols 
 down. Give em up ! Lay aft, there, some o ye, and 
 call the captain ! blustered the mate, with his hands 
 held high. 
 
 Not a man stirred to obey. The scowling faces 
 looked deadly in earnest. 
 
 Eight about face! commanded the tall man. 
 March, every man back to the other end o the 
 boat. Laramie, take the other side and round up 
 anybody you see. Now, gentlemen, hurry ! 
 
 Away went the protesting procession, and, joined 
 by the carpenter, sail-maker, donkey-man, and cook, 
 rounded up from their sanctums by the man called 
 Laramie, it had reached the main-hatch before the 
 captain, pacing the quarter-deck, was aware of the 
 disturbance. With Captain Belchior to think was to 
 act. Springing to the cabin skylight, he shouted : 
 Steward, bring up my pistols ! Bear a hand ! Lower 
 your weapons, you scoundrels this is rank mutiny ! 
 
 A pistol spoke, and the captain s hat left his head. 
 There goes your hat! said a voice. Now for a 
 button ! Another bullet sped, which cut from his 
 
 198 
 
meets Greek 
 
 coat the button nearest his heart. Come down from 
 there come down! said the voice he had heard. 
 Next shot goes home. Start while I count three. 
 
 One two Captain Belchior descended the steps. 
 
 Hands up, same as the rest ! Up went the captain s 
 hands ; such marksmanship was beyond his philo 
 sophy. Tache, went on the speaker, go up there 
 and get the guns he wanted. The steward, with two 
 bright revolvers in his hands, was met at the com 
 panion-hatch by a man with but one ; but that one 
 was so big, and the hand which held it was so steady, 
 that it was no matter of surprise that he obeyed the 
 terse command, Fork over, handles first! The 
 captain s nickel-plated pistols went into the pockets 
 of Tache s coat, and the white-faced steward, poked 
 in the back by the muzzle of that big firearm, marched 
 to the main-deck and joined the others. 
 
 Go down that place, Tache, and chase out anyone 
 else ye find, called the leader from behind the crowd. 
 Bring em all down here. 
 
 Tache descended, and reappeared with a frightened 
 cabin-boy, whom, with the man at the wheel, he drove 
 before him to the steps. There was no wind, and the 
 ship could spare the helmsman. 
 
 * Now, then, gentlemen, said the tall leader, I 
 reckon we re all here. Keep yer hands up. We ll 
 have a pow-wow. Tache, stay up there, and you, 
 Laramie, cover em from behind. Plug the first man 
 that moves. 
 
 He mounted the steps to the quarter-deck, and, as 
 he replaced empty shells with cartridges, looked down 
 on them with a serene smile on his not ill-looking 
 face. His voice, except when raised in accent of 
 command, had in it the musical, drawling, plaintive 
 tone so peculiar to the native Texan and so deceptive. 
 The other two, younger and rougher men, looked, as 
 they glanced at their victims through the sights of the 
 
 199 
 
When Greek 
 
 pistols, as though they longed for the word of permis 
 sion to riddle the ship s company with bullets. 
 
 * You ll pay for this, you infernal cut- throats ! 
 spluttered the captain. This is piracy. 
 
 Don t call any names, now, said the tall man ; 
 * tain t healthy. We don t want to hurt ye, but I tell 
 ye seriously, ye never were nearer death than ye are 
 now. It s a risky thing, and a foolish thing, too, 
 gentlemen, to steal three American citizens with guns 
 under their shirts, and take em so far from land as 
 this. Hangin s the fit and proper punishment for 
 hoss-stealin , but man-stealin s so great a crime that 
 I m not right sure what the punishment is. Now, we 
 don t know much bout boats and ropes though we 
 can tie a hangman s knot when necessary but we do 
 know somethin bout guns and human natur here, 
 you, come way from that fence. 
 
 The captain was edging towards a belaying-pin ; 
 but he noticed that the speaker s voice had lost its 
 plaintiveness, and three tubes were looking at him. 
 He drew inboard, and the leader resumed : 
 
 Now, fust thing, who s foreman o this outfit? 
 Who s boss ? 
 
 I m captain here. 
 
 * You are ? You are not ! I m captain ! Get up 
 on that shanty! The small house over the mizzen- 
 hatch was indicated, and Captain Belchior climbed it. 
 The tubes were still looking at him. 
 
 Now, you, there, you man who hit me last night 
 when I was sick, who are you, and what ? 
 
 Mate, d you ! 
 
 Up with you, and don t cuss. You did a cowardly 
 thing, pardner an unmanly thing low down and 
 or nary. You don t deserve to live any longer; but 
 my darter, back East at school, thinks I ve killed 
 enough men for one lifetime, and mebbe she s right 
 mebbe she s right. Anyhow, she don t like it, and 
 
 200 
 
meets Greek 
 
 that lets you out though I won t answer for Tache 
 and Laramie when my back s turned. You kicked 
 em both. But I ll just return the blow. The mate 
 had but straightened up on top of the hatch-house 
 when the terrible pistol spat out another red tongue, 
 and his yell followed the report, as he clapped his 
 hand to the ear through which the bullet had torn. 
 
 * Hands up, there ! thundered the shooter, and the 
 mate obeyed, while a stream of blood ran down inside 
 his shirt-collar. 
 
 Any more bosses here ? 
 
 The second mate did not respond ; but Tache s 
 pistol sought him out, and under its influence, and 
 his guttural I know you; get up, he followed his 
 superiors. 
 
 * Any more ? 
 
 A manly-looking fellow stepped out of the group, 
 and said : You ve got the captain and two mates. 
 I m bo s n here, and yonder s my mate. We re next, 
 but we re not bosses in the way o bein responsible 
 for anything that has happened or might happen to 
 you. We b long forrard. There s no call to shoot at 
 the crew, for there s not a man among em but what 
 ud be glad to see you get ashore, and get there 
 himself. 
 
 Silence, bo s n ! bawled the captain. But the 
 voice of authority seemed pitifully ludicrous and 
 incongruous, coupled with the captain s position and 
 attitude, and every face on the deck wore a grin. The 
 leader noticed the silent merriment, and said : 
 
 Laramie, I reckon these men ll stand. You can 
 come up here. I m gettin long in years, and kind o 
 steadyin down, but I s pose you and Tache want 
 some fun. Start yer whistle and turn loose/ 
 
 Up the steps bounded Laramie, and, with a ringing 
 whoop as a prelude, began whistling a clear, musical 
 trill, while Tache, growling out, * Dance, dance, ye 
 
 201 
 
When Greek 
 
 white-livered coyotes/ sent a bullet through the outer 
 edge of the chief mate s boot-heel. 
 
 Dance ! repeated Laramie between bars of the 
 music. Crack, crack, went the pistols, while bullets 
 rattled around the feet of the men on the hatch, and 
 Laramie s whistle rose and fell on the soft morning 
 air. 
 
 The sun, who has looked on many scandalous 
 sights, looked on this, and hid his face under a cloud, 
 refusing to witness. For never before had the ethics 
 of shipboard life been so outrageously violated. A 
 squat captain and two six-foot officers, nearly black 
 in the face from rage and exertion, with hands clasped 
 over their heads, hopped and skipped around a narrow 
 stage to the accompaniment of pistol reports harmoni 
 ously disposed among the notes of a whistled tune, 
 while bullets grazed their feet, and an unkempt, dis 
 figured, and sore-headed crew looked on and chuckled. 
 When the mate, weak from loss of blood, fell and 
 rolled to the deck, the leader stopped the entertain 
 ment. 
 
 Now, gentlemen, he said in his serious voice, 
 I m called Pecos Tom, and I ve had considerable 
 experience in my time, but this is my fust with 
 human creatur s so weak and thoughtless that they ll 
 drug and steal three men without takin their guns 
 away from them. And so, on count o this shiftless 
 improvidence, I reckon this boat will have to turn 
 round and go back. 
 
 They bound them, rolled and kicked the two mates 
 to the rail, lifted the captain to his feet, and then the 
 leader said significantly : 
 
 Give the right and proper order to yer men to 
 turn this boat round. 
 
 With his face working convulsively, Captain Belchior 
 glanced at his captors, at his eager, waiting crew, at 
 the wheel without a helmsman, at a darkening of the 
 
 202 
 
meets Greek 
 
 water on the starboard bow to the southward, up aloft, 
 and back again at the three frowning muzzles so close 
 to his head. 
 
 * One hand to the wheel ! Square in main and 
 cro -jack yards ! he called. He was conquered. 
 
 With a hurrah which indicated the sincerity of 
 these orders, the crew sprang to obey them, and with 
 foreyards braced to starboard and head-sheets flat, 
 the ship Wilmington paid off, wore around, and 
 bringing the young breeze on the port quarter, 
 steadied down to a course for Sandy Hook, which 
 the captain, with hands released, but still under the 
 influence of those threatening pistols, worked out 
 from the mate s dead - reckoning. Then he was 
 pinioned again, but allowed to pace the deck and 
 watch his ship, while the two officers were kept under 
 the rail, sometimes stepped upon or kicked, and often 
 admonished on the evil of their ways. 
 
 Early passengers on the East Kiver ferry-boats 
 were treated to a novel sight next morning, which 
 they appreciated according to their nautical know 
 ledge. A lofty ship, with sky- sails and royals hanging 
 in the buntlines, and jibs tailing ahead like flags, was 
 charging up the harbour before a humming southerly 
 breeze, followed by an elbowing crowd of puffing, 
 whistling, snub-nosed tugs. It was noticeable that 
 whenever a fresh tug arrived alongside, little white 
 clouds left her quarter-deck, and that tug suddenly 
 sheered off to take a position in the parade astern. 
 Abreast of Governor s Island, topgallant - halyards 
 were let go, as were those of the jibs ; but no clewing 
 up or hauling down was done, nor were any men seen 
 on her forecastle-deck getting ready lines or ground- 
 tackle. She passed the Battery and up the East 
 Eiver, craft of all kinds getting out of her way for 
 it was obvious that something was wrong with her 
 until, rounding slowly to a starboard wheel, with 
 
 203 
 
When Greek meets Greek 
 
 canvas rattling and running - gear in bights, she 
 headed straight for a slip partly filled with canal- 
 boats. Now her topsail-halyards were let go, and 
 three heavy yards came down by the run, breaking 
 across the caps ; and amid a grinding, creaking, and 
 crashing of riven timbers, and a deafening din of 
 applauding tug whistles, she ploughed her way into 
 the nest of canal-boats and came to a stop. 
 
 Then was a hejira. Down her black sides by ropes 
 and chain-plates, to the wrecked and sinking canal- 
 boats some with bags or chests, some without 
 came eager men, who climbed to the dock, and, 
 answering no questions of the gathering crowd of 
 dock-loungers, scattered into the side-streets. Then 
 three other men appeared on the rail, who shook 
 their fists, and swore, and shouted for the police, 
 calling particularly for the apprehension of three 
 dark-faced, long-haired fellows with big hats. 
 
 In the light of later developments it is known that 
 the police responded, and, with the assistance of 
 boarding-house runners, gathered in that day nearly 
 all of this derelict crew even to the cautious boat 
 swain who were promptly and severely punished 
 for mutiny and desertion. But the later develop 
 ments failed to show that the three dark-faced men 
 were ever seen again. 
 
 204 
 
PRIMORDIAL 
 
 GASPING, blue in the face, half drowned, the boy was 
 flung spitefully as though the sea scorned so poor a 
 victory high on the sandy beach, where succeeding 
 shorter waves lapped at him and retired. The en 
 circling life-buoy was large enough to permit his 
 crouching within it. Pillowing his head on one 
 side of the smooth ring, he wailed hoarsely for an 
 interval, then slept or swooned. The tide went 
 down the beach, the typhoon whirled its raging 
 centre off to sea, and the tropic moon shone out, 
 lighting up, between the beach and barrier reef, a 
 heaving stretch of oily lagoon, on which appeared 
 and disappeared hundreds of shark-fins quickly dart 
 ing, and out on the barrier reef, perched high, yet 
 still pounded by the ocean combers raised by the 
 storm, a fragment of ship s stern, with a stump of 
 mizzenmast. The elevated position of the fragment, 
 the quickly-darting dorsal fins, and the absence of 
 company for the child on the beach, spoke too plainly 
 of shipwreck, useless boats, and horrible death. 
 
 Sharks must sleep, like other creatures, and they 
 nestle in hollows at the bottom and in coral caves, 
 or under overhanging ledges of the reefs which attract 
 them. The first swimmer may pass safely by night, 
 seldom the second. Like she-wolves, fiendish cats, 
 
 205 
 
Primordial 
 
 and vicious horses, they have been known to show 
 mercy to children. For one or both reasons, this 
 child had drifted to the beach unharmed. 
 
 Anywhere but on a bed of hot sand near the equator 
 the sleep in wet clothing of a three-year-old boy might 
 have been fatal ; but salt water carries its own remedy 
 for the evils of its moisture, and he wakened at day 
 light with strength to rise and cry out his protest of 
 loneliness and misery. His childish mind could 
 record facts, but not their reason or coherency. 
 He was in a new, an unknown, world. His mother 
 had filled his old. Where was she now ? Why had 
 she tied him into that thing, and thrown him from 
 her into the darkness and wet ? Strange things had 
 happened, which he dimly remembered. He had 
 been roused from his sleep, dressed, and taken out 
 of doors in the dark, where there were frightful 
 crashing noises, shoutings of men, and crying of 
 women and other children. He had cried himself, 
 from sympathy and terror, until his mother had 
 thrown him away. Had he been bad ? Was she 
 angry? And after that what was the rest? He 
 was hungry and thirsty now. Why did she not 
 come ? He would go and find her. 
 
 With the life-buoy hanging about his waist 
 though of cork, a heavy weight for him he toddled 
 along the beach to where it ended at a massive ridge 
 of rock that came out of the wooded country inland 
 and extended into the lagoon as an impassable point. 
 He called the chief word in his vocabulary again and 
 again, sobbing between calls. She was not there, or 
 she would have come ; so he went back, glancing 
 fearfully at the dark woods of palm and undergrowth. 
 She might be in there, but he was afraid to look. 
 His little feet carried him a full half-mile in the other 
 direction before the line of trees and bushes reached 
 so close to the beach as to stop him. Here he sat 
 
 206 
 
Primordial 
 
 down, screaming passionately and convulsively for 
 his mother. 
 
 Crying is an expenditure of energy which must be 
 replenished by food. When he could cry no longer, 
 he tugged at the straps and strings of the life-buoy. 
 But they were wet and hard, his little fingers were 
 weak, and he knew nothing of knots and their un 
 tying, so it was well on toward mid-day before he 
 succeeded in scrambling out of the meshes, by which 
 time he was famished, feverish with thirst, and ail- 
 but sunstruck. He wandered unsteadily along the 
 beach, falling occasionally, moaning piteously through 
 his parched, open lips, and when he reached the 
 obstructing ridge of rock, turned blindly into the 
 bushes at its base, and followed it until he came 
 to a pool of water formed by a descending spray 
 from above. From this, on his hands and knees, 
 he drank deeply, burying his lips as would an animal. 
 
 Instinct alone had guided him here, away from the 
 salt pools on the beach, and impelled him to drink 
 fearlessly. It was instinct a familiar phase in a 
 child that induced him to put pebbles, twigs, and 
 small articles in his mouth until he found what was 
 pleasant to his taste and eatable nuts and berries ; 
 and it was instinct, the most ancient and deeply im 
 planted the lingering index of an arboreal ancestry 
 that now taught him the safety and comfort of 
 these woody shades, and, as night came on, prompted 
 him as it prompts a drowning man to reach high, 
 and leads a creeping babe to a chair to attempt 
 climbing a tree. Failing in this from lack of 
 strength, he mounted the rocky wall a few feet, 
 and here, on a narrow ledge, after indulging in a 
 final fit of crying, he slept through the night, not 
 comfortably on so hard a bed, but soundly. 
 
 During the day, while he had crawled about at the 
 foot of the rocks, wild hogs, marsupial animals, and 
 
 207 
 
Primordial 
 
 wood-rats had examined him suspiciously through 
 the undergrowth and decamped. As he slept, howl 
 ing night-dogs came up, sniffed at him from a safe 
 distance, and scattered from his vicinity. He would 
 have yielded in a battle with a pugnacious kitten, but 
 these creatures recognised a prehistoric foe, and would 
 not abide with him. 
 
 A week passed before he had ceased to cry and call 
 for his mother; but from this on her image grew 
 fainter, and in a month the infant intelligence had 
 discarded it. He ate nuts and berries as he found 
 them, drank from the pool, climbed the rocks and 
 strolled in the wood, played on the beach with shells 
 and fragments of splintered wreckage, wore out his 
 clothes, and in another month was naked ; for when 
 buttons and vital parts gave way and a garment fell, 
 he let it lie. But he needed no clothes, even at night ; 
 for it was southern summer, and the north-east mon 
 soon, adding its humid warm to the radiating heat 
 from the sun-baked rocks, kept the temperature nearly 
 constant. 
 
 He learned to avoid the sun at mid-day, and, free 
 from contagion and motherly coddling, escaped many 
 of the complaints which torture and kill children ; 
 yet he suffered frightfully from colic until his stomach 
 was accustomed to the change of diet, by which time 
 he was emaciated to skin and bone. Then a reaction 
 set in, and as time passed he gained healthy flesh and 
 muscle on the nitrogenous food. 
 
 Six months from the time of his arrival, another 
 storm swept the beach. Pelted by the warm rain, 
 terror-stricken, he cowered under the rocks through 
 the night, and at daylight peered out on the surf- 
 washed sands, heaving lagoon, and white line of 
 breakers on the barrier reef. The short-lived typhoon 
 had passed, but the wind still blew slantingly on the 
 beach with force enough to raise a turmoil of crashing 
 
 208 
 
Primordial 
 
 sea and undertow in the small bay formed by the ex 
 tension of the wall. The fragments of ship s stern on 
 the reef had disappeared ; but a half-mile to the right, 
 directly in the eye of the wind, was another wreck, 
 and somewhat nearer, on the heaving swell of the 
 lagoon, a black spot, which moved and approached. 
 It came down before the wind, and resolved into a 
 closely-packed group of human beings, some of whom 
 tugged frantically at the oars of the water-logged boat 
 which held them, others of whom as frantically baled 
 with caps and hands. Escorting the boat was a fleet 
 of dorsal fins, and erect in the stern-sheets was a 
 white-faced woman, holding a child in one arm, while 
 she endeavoured to remove a circular life-buoy from 
 around her waist. At first heading straight for the 
 part of the beach where the open-eyed boy was 
 watching, the boat now changed its course, and by 
 desperate exertion of the rowers reached a position 
 from which it could drift to leeward of the point 
 and its deadly maelstrom. With rowers baling and 
 the white-faced woman seated, fastening the child in 
 the life-buoy, the boat, gunwale-deep, and the grue 
 some guard of sharks, drifted out of sight behind the 
 point. The boy had not understood, but he had seen 
 his kind, and from association of ideas appreciated 
 again his loneliness, crying and wailing for a week 
 but not for his mother ; he had forgotten her. 
 
 With the change of the monsoon came a lowering 
 of the temperature. Naked and shelterless, he barely 
 survived the first winter, tropical though it was. But 
 the second found him inured to the surroundings 
 hardy and strong. When able to he climbed trees 
 and found birds eggs, which he accidentally broke 
 and naturally ate. It was a pleasant relief from a 
 purely vegetable diet, and he became a proficient 
 egg- thief ; then the birds built their nests beyond his 
 reach. Once he was savagely pecked by an angry 
 
 209 p 
 
Primordial 
 
 brush-turkey and forced to defend himself. It aroused 
 a combativeness and destructiveness that had lain 
 dormant in his nature. 
 
 Children the world over epitomize in their habits 
 and thoughts the infancy of the human race. Their 
 morals and modesty, as well as their games, are those 
 of paleolithic man, and they are remorselessly cruel. 
 From the day of his fracas with the turkey he was a 
 hunter of grubs, insects, and young birds ; but only 
 to kill, maim, or torture ; he did not eat them because 
 hunger was satisfied, and he possessed a child s dis 
 like of radical change. 
 
 Deprived of friction with other minds, he was slower 
 than his social prototype in the reproduction of the 
 epochs. At a stage when most boys are passing 
 through the age of stone, with its marbles, caves, and 
 slings, he was yet in the earlier arboreal period a 
 climber and would swing from branch to branch with 
 almost the agility of an ape. 
 
 On fine, sunny days, influenced by the weather, he 
 would laugh and shout hilariously ; a gloomy sky 
 made him morose. When hurt, or angered by dis 
 appointment in the hunt, he would cry out inarticu 
 lately ; but having no use for language, did not talk, 
 hence did not think, as the term is understood. His 
 mind received the impressions of his senses, and 
 could fear, hate, and remember, but knew nothing of 
 love, for nothing lovable appealed to it. He could 
 hardly reason as yet ; his shadow puzzled, angered, 
 and annoyed him until he noticed its concomitance 
 with the sun, when he reversed cause and effect, con 
 sidered it a beneficent, mysterious something that had 
 life, and endeavoured by gesture and grimace to 
 placate and please it. It was his beginning of re 
 ligion. 
 
 His dreams were often horrible. Strange shapes, 
 immense snakes and reptiles, and nondescript mon- 
 
 210 
 
Primordial 
 
 sters made up of prehistoric legs, teeth, and heads, 
 afflicted his sleep. He had never seen them ; they 
 were an inheritance, but as real to him as the sea and 
 sky, the wind and rain. 
 
 Every six months, at the breaking up of the mon 
 soon, would come squalls and typhoons full of 
 menace, for his kindly, protecting shadow then de 
 serted him. One day, when about ten years old, 
 during a wild burst of storm, he fled down the beach 
 in an agony of terror ; for, considering all that moved 
 as alive, he thought that the crashing sea and sway 
 ing, falling trees were attacking him, and, half buried 
 in the sand near the bushes, found the forgotten life 
 buoy, stained and weather-worn. It was quiescent, 
 and new to him like nothing he had seen and he 
 had clung to it. At that moment the sun appeared, 
 and in a short time the storm had passed. He carried 
 the life-buoy back with him spurning and threaten 
 ing his delinquent shadow and looked for a place to 
 put it, deciding at last on a small cave in the rocky 
 wall near to the pool. In a corner of this he installed 
 the ring of cork and canvas, and remained by it, pat 
 ting and caressing it. When it rained again, he ap 
 preciated, for the first time, the comfort of shelter, 
 and became a cave-dweller, with a new god a fetish, 
 to which he transferred his allegiance and obeisance 
 because more powerful than his shadow. 
 
 From correlation of instincts, he now entered the 
 age of stone. He no longer played with shells and 
 sticks, but with pebbles, which he gathered, hoarded 
 in piles, and threw at marks to be gathered again 
 seldom entering the woods but for food and the relaxa 
 tion of the hunt. But with his change of habits came 
 a lessening of his cruelty to defenceless creatures 
 not that he felt pity : he merely found no more amuse 
 ment in killing and tormenting and in time he trans 
 ferred his antagonism to the sharks in the lagoon, 
 
 211 p 2 
 
Primordial 
 
 their dorsal fins making famous targets for his pebbles. 
 He needed no experience with these pirates to teach 
 him to fear and hate them, and when he bathed 
 which habit he acquired as a relief from the heat, and 
 indulged daily he chose a pool near the rocks that 
 filled at high tide, and in it learned to swim, paddling 
 like a dog. 
 
 And so the boy, blue-eyed and fair at the beginning, 
 grew to early manhood, as handsome an animal as 
 the world contains, tall, straight, and clean-featured, 
 with steady eyes wide apart, and skin the colour of 
 old copper from sun and wind covered with a fine, 
 soft down, which at the age of sixteen had not yet 
 thickened on his face to beard and moustache, though 
 his wavy brown hair reached to his shoulders. 
 
 At this period a turning-point appeared in his life 
 which gave an impetus to his almost stagnant mental 
 development his food- supply diminished and his 
 pebble- supply gave out completely, forcing him to 
 wander. Pebble-throwing was his only amusement ; 
 pebble-gathering his only labour ; eating was neither. 
 He browsed and nibbled at all hours of the day, never 
 knowing the sensation of a full stomach, and, until 
 lately, of an empty one. To this, perhaps, may be 
 ascribed his wonderful immunity from sickness. In 
 collecting pebbles his method was to carry as many as 
 his hands would hold to a pile on the beach and go 
 back for more ; and in the six years of his stone- 
 throwing he had found and thrown at the sharks 
 every stone as small as his fist within a sector formed 
 by the beach and the rocky wall to an equal distance 
 inland. The fruits, nuts, edible roots, and grasses 
 growing in this area had hitherto supported him, 
 but would no longer, owing to a drought of the 
 previous year, which, luckily, had not affected his 
 water-supply. 
 
 One morning, trembling with excitement, eye and 
 212 
 
Primordial 
 
 ear on the alert as a high-spirited horse enters a 
 strange pasture he ventured past the junction of 
 bush and tide-mark, and down the unknown beach 
 beyond. He filled his hands with the first pebbles he 
 found, but noticing the plentiful supply on the ground 
 ahead of him, dropped them and went on ; there were 
 other things to interest him. A broad stretch of 
 undulating, scantily wooded country reached inland 
 from the convex beach of sand and shells to where it 
 met the receding line of forest and bush behind him ; 
 and far away to his right, darting back and forth among 
 stray bushes and sand-hummocks, were small crea 
 tures strange, unlike those he knew, but in regard to 
 which he felt curiosity rather than fear. 
 
 He travelled around the circle of beach, and noticed 
 that the moving creatures fled at his approach. They 
 were wild hogs, hunted of men since hunting began. 
 He entered the forest about mid-day, and emerging, 
 found himself on a pebbly beach similar to his own, 
 and facing a continuation of the rocky wall, which, 
 like the other end, dipped into the lagoon and pre 
 vented further progress. He was thirsty, and found 
 a pool near the rocks ; hungry, and he ate of nuts 
 and berries which he recognised. Puzzled by the 
 reversal of perspective and the similarity of conditions, 
 he proceeded along the wall, dimly expecting to find 
 his cave. But none appeared, and, mystified some 
 what frightened he plunged into the wood, keeping 
 close to the wall and looking sharply about him. 
 Like an exiled cat or a carrier-pigeon, he was making 
 a straight line for home, but did not know it. 
 
 His progress was slow, for boulders, stumps, and 
 rising ground impeded him. Darkness descended 
 when he was but half-way home and nearly on a 
 level with the top of the wall. Forced to stop, he 
 threw himself down, exhausted, yet nervous and 
 wakeful, as any other animal in a strange place. 
 
 213 
 
Primordial 
 
 But the familiar moon came out, shining through the 
 foliage, and this soothed him into a light slumber. 
 
 He was wakened by a sound near by that he had 
 heard all his life at a distance a wild chorus of 
 barking. It was coming his way, and he crouched 
 and waited, grasping a stone in each hand. The 
 barking, interspersed soon with wheezing squeals, 
 grew painfully loud, and culminated in vengeful 
 growls, as a young pig sprang into a patch of moon 
 light, with a dozen dingoes night-dogs at its heels. 
 In the excitement of pursuit they did not notice the 
 crouching boy, but pounced on the pig, tore at it, 
 snapping and snarling at one another, and in a few 
 minutes the meal was over. 
 
 Frozen with terror at this strange sight, the boy 
 remained quiet until the brutes began sniffing and 
 turning in his direction ; then he stood erect, and 
 giving vent to a scream which rang through the 
 forest, hurle d the two stones with all his strength 
 straight at the nearest. He was a good marksman. 
 Agonized yelps followed the impact of stone on hide; 
 two dogs rolled over and over, then, gaming their 
 feet, sped after their fleeing companions, while the 
 boy sat down, trembling in every limb completely 
 unnerved. Yet he knew that he was the cause of 
 their flight. With a stone in each hand, he watched 
 and waited until daylight, then arose and went on 
 homeward, with a new and intense emotion not fear 
 of the dingoes: he was the superior animal, and 
 knew it not pity for the pig : he had not developed 
 to the pitying stage. He was possessed by a strong, 
 instinctive desire to emulate the dogs and eat of 
 animal food. It did not come of his empty stomach ; 
 he felt it after he had satisfied his hunger on the 
 way ; and as he plodded down the slope towards his 
 cave, he gripped his missiles fiercely and watched 
 sharply for small animals preferably pigs. 
 
 214 
 
Primordial 
 
 But no pigs appeared. He reached his cave, and 
 slept all day and the following night, waking in the 
 morning hungry, and with the memory of his late 
 adventure strong in his mind. He picked up the two 
 stones he had brought home, and started down the 
 beach, but stopped, came back, and turned inland by 
 the wall ; then he halted again and retraced his steps 
 puzzled. He pondered awhile if his mental pro 
 cesses may be so termed then walked slowly down 
 the beach, entered the bush a short distance, turned 
 again to the wall, and gained his starting-point. 
 Then he reversed the trip, and coming back by way 
 of the beach, struck inland with a clear and satisfied 
 face. He had solved the problem a new and hard 
 one for him that of two roads to a distant place ; 
 and he had chosen the shortest. 
 
 In a few hours he reached his late camping-spot, 
 and crouched to the earth, listening for barking and 
 squealing for a pig to be chased his way. But 
 dingoes hunt only by night, and unmolested pigs do 
 not squeal. Impatient at last, he went on through 
 the forest in the direction from which they had come, 
 until he reached the open country where he had first 
 seen them ; and here, rooting under the bushes at the 
 margin of the wood, he discovered a family a mother 
 and four young ones which had possibly contained 
 the victim of the dogs. He stalked them slowly and 
 cautiously, keeping bushes between himself and them, 
 but was seen by the mother when about twenty yards 
 away. She sniffed suspiciously, then, with a warning 
 grunt and a scattering of dust and twigs, scurried 
 into the woods, with her brood all but one in her 
 wake. 
 
 A frightened pig is as easy a target as a darting 
 dorsal fin, and a fat suckling lay kicking convulsively 
 on the ground. He hurried up, the hunting gleam 
 bright in his eyes, and hurled the second stone at the 
 
 215 
 
Primordial 
 
 little animal. It still kicked, and he picked up the 
 first stone, thinking it might be more potent to kill, 
 and crashed it down on the unfortunate pig s head. 
 It glanced from the head to the other stone and struck 
 a spark which he noticed. 
 
 The pig now lay still, and, satisfied that he had 
 killed it, he tried to repeat the cannon, but failed. 
 Yet the spark had interested him he wanted to see 
 it again and it was only after he had reduced the 
 pig s head to a pulp that he became disgusted, and 
 angrily threw the stone in his hand at the one on the 
 ground. The resulting spark delighted him. He 
 repeated the experiment again and again, each con 
 cussion drawing a spark, and finally used one stone 
 as a hammer on the other, with the same result to 
 him, a bright and pretty thing, very small, but alive, 
 which came from either of the dead stones. Tired of 
 the play at last, he turned to the pig the food that 
 he had yearned for. 
 
 It was well for him, perhaps, that the initial taste 
 of bristle and fat prevented his taking the second 
 mouthful. Slightly nauseated, he dropped the carcass 
 and turned to go, but immediately bounded in the air 
 with a howl of pain. His left foot was red and 
 smarting. Once he had cut it on a sharp shell, and 
 now searched for a wound, but found none. Rubbing 
 increased the pain. Looking on the ground for the 
 cause, he discovered a wavering, widening ring of 
 strange appearance, and within it a blackened surface 
 on which rested the two stones. They were dry flint 
 nodules, and he had set fire to the grass with the 
 sparks. 
 
 Considering this to be a new animal that had 
 attacked him, he pelted it with stones, dancing around 
 it in a rage and shouting hoarsely. He might have 
 conquered the fire and never invoked it again, had 
 not the supply of stones in the vicinity given out, or 
 
 216 
 
Primordial 
 
 those he had used grown too hot to handle ; for he 
 stayed the advancing flame at one side. But the 
 other side was creeping on, and he used dry branches, 
 dropping to his hands and knees to pound the fire, 
 fighting bravely, crying out with pain as he burned 
 himself, and forced to drop stick after stick which 
 caught fire. Soon it grew too hot to remain near, 
 and he stood off and launched fuel at it, which 
 resulted in a fair-sized bonfire ; then, in desperation 
 and fear, he hurled the dead pig the cause of the 
 trouble at the terrible monster, and fled. 
 
 Looking back through the trees to see if he was 
 pursued, he noticed that the strange enemy had taken 
 new shape and colour ; it was reaching up into the 
 air, black and cloud-like. Frightened, tired mentally 
 and physically, and suffering keenly from his burns, 
 he turned his back on the half-solved problem and 
 endeavoured to satisfy his hunger. But he was on 
 strange territory and found little of his accustomed 
 food ; the chafing and abrading contact of bushes and 
 twigs irritated his sore spots, preventing investigation 
 and rapid progress, and at the end of three hours, 
 still hungry, and exasperated by his torment into a 
 reckless, fighting mood, he picked up stones and 
 returned savagely to battle again with the enemy. 
 But the enemy was dead. The grass had burned to 
 where it met dry earth, and the central fire was now 
 a black-and-white pile of still warm ashes, on which 
 lay the charred and denuded pig, giving forth a 
 savoury odour. Cautiously approaching, he studied 
 the situation, then, yielding to an irresistible impulse, 
 seized the pig and ran through the woods to the wall 
 and down to his cave. 
 
 Two hours later he was writhing on the ground 
 with a violent stomach-ache. It was forty -eight 
 hours after when he ate again, and then of his old 
 food nuts and berries. But the craving returned in 
 
 217 
 
Primordial 
 
 a week, and he again killed a pig, but was compelled 
 to forego eating it for lack of fire. 
 
 Though he had discovered fire and cooked food, his 
 only conception of the process, so far, was that the 
 mysterious enemy was too powerful for him to kill, 
 that it would eat sticks and grass, but did not like 
 stones, and that a dead pig could kill it, and in the 
 conflict be made eatable. It was only after months 
 of playing with flints and sparks that he recognised 
 the part borne by dry grass or moss, and that with 
 these he could create it at will ; that a dead pig, 
 though always improved by the effort, could not be 
 depended upon to kill it, unless the enemy was young 
 and small when stones would answer as well and 
 that he could always kill it himself by depriving it of 
 food. 
 
 It is hardly possible that animal food produced 
 a direct effect on his mind, but the effort to obtain it 
 certainly did, arousing his torpid faculties to a keener 
 activity. He grasped the relation of cause to effect 
 seeing one, he looked for the other. He noticed 
 resemblances, and soon realized the common attri 
 butes of fire and the sun ; and, as his fetish was 
 not always good to him the sun and storm seeming 
 to follow their own sweet will in spite of his unspoken 
 faith in the life-buoy he again became an apostate, 
 transferring his allegiance to the sun, of which the 
 friendly fire was evidently a part or symbol. He did 
 not discard his dethroned fetish completely ; he still 
 kept it in his cave to punch, kick, and revile by 
 gestures and growls at times when the sun was 
 hidden, retaining this habit from his former faith. 
 The life-buoy was now his devil a symbol of evil, 
 or, what was the same to him, discomfort ; for he 
 had advanced in religious thought to a point where 
 he needed one. Every morning when the sun shone, 
 and at its reappearance after the rain, he prostrated 
 
 218 
 
Primordial 
 
 himself in a patch of sunlight this and the abuse of 
 the life-buoy becoming ceremonies in his fire-worship. 
 
 In time he became such a menace to the hogs that 
 they climbed the wall at the high ground and dis 
 appeared in the country beyond. And after them 
 went the cowardly dingoes that preyed on their 
 young. Kodent animals, more difficult to hunt, and 
 a species of small kangaroo, furnished him occupa 
 tion and food until they, too, emigrated, when he 
 was forced to follow ; he was now a carnivorous 
 animal, no longer satisfied with vegetable food. 
 
 The longer hunts brought with them a difficulty 
 which spurred him to further invention. He could 
 carry only as many stones as his hands would hold, 
 and often found himself far from his base of supply, 
 with game in sight, and without means to kill it. 
 The pouch in which the mother kangaroo carried 
 her young suggested to his mind a like contrivance 
 for carrying stones. Since he had cut his foot on 
 the shell he had known the potency of a sharp edge, 
 but not until he needed to remove charred and useless 
 flesh from his food did he appreciate the utility. It 
 was an easy advance for him roughly to skin a female 
 kangaroo, and wear the garment for the pocket s sake. 
 But it chafed and irritated him ; so, cutting off the 
 troublesome parts little by little, he finally reduced 
 it to a girdle which held only the pouch. And in 
 this receptacle he carried stones for throwing and 
 shells for cutting, his expeditions now extending for 
 miles beyond the wall, and only limited by the 
 necessity of returning for water, of which, in the 
 limestone rock, there were plenty of pools and 
 trickling springs. 
 
 He learned that no stones but the dry flints he 
 found close to the wall would strike sparks ; but, 
 careless, improvident, petulant child of nature that 
 he was, he exhausted the supply, and one day, too 
 
 219 
 
Primordial 
 
 indolent to search his hunting-tracts to regain the 
 necessary two, he endeavoured to draw fire from a 
 pair that he dug from the moist earth, and, failing, 
 threw them with all his strength at the rocky wall. 
 One of them shivered to irregular pieces, the other 
 parted with a flake a six-inch, dagger-like fragment, 
 flat on one side, convex on the other, with sharp 
 edges that met in a point at one end, and at the 
 other, where lay the cone of percussion, rounded into 
 a roughly-cylindrical shape, convenient for handling. 
 Though small, no flint-chipping savage of the stone 
 age ever made a better knife, and he was quick to 
 appreciate its superiority to a shell. 
 
 Like most discoveries and inventions that have 
 advanced the human race, his were, in the main, 
 accidental; yet he could now reason from the acci 
 dental to the analogous. Idly swinging his girdle 
 around his head one day, and letting go, he was 
 surprised at the distance to which, with little effort, 
 he could send the stone-laden pouch. Months of 
 puzzled experimenting produced a sling at first with 
 a thong of hide fast to each stone, later with the double 
 thong and pouch that small boys and savages have 
 not yet improved upon. 
 
 To this centrifugal force, which he could use with 
 out wholly understanding, he added the factor of a 
 rigid radius a handle to a heavy stone ; for only 
 with this contrivance could he break large flints and 
 open cocoanuts an article of good food that he had 
 passed by all his life, and wondered at until his knife 
 had divided a green one. His experiments in this 
 line resulted in a heavy, sharp-edged, solid-backed 
 flint, firmly bound with thongs to the end of a stick 
 a rude tomahawk, convenient for the coup de grace. 
 
 The ease with which he could send a heavy stone 
 out of sight, or bury a smaller one in the side of a 
 hog at short range, was wonderful to him ; but he 
 
 220 
 
Primordial 
 
 was twenty years old before, by daily practice with 
 his sling, he brought his marksmanship up to that 
 of his unaided hand, equal to which, at an earlier 
 date, was his skill at hatchet-throwing. He could 
 outrun and tomahawk the fastest hog, could bring 
 down with his sling a kangaroo on the jump or a 
 pigeon on the wing, could smell and distinguish game 
 to windward with the keen scent of a hound, and 
 became so formidable an enemy of his troublesome 
 rivals, the dingoes whose flesh he disapproved of 
 and the sharks in the lagoon, that the one deserted 
 his hunting-ground and the other seldom left the reef. 
 He broke or lost one knife and hatchet after another, 
 and learned, in making new ones, that he could chip 
 them into improved shape when freshly dug, and that 
 he must allow them to dry before using, when they 
 were also available for striking fire. He had enlarged 
 his pocket, making a better one of a whole skin by 
 roughly sewing the edges together with thongs, first 
 curing the hide by soaking in salt water and scraping 
 with his knife. His food-list now embraced shellfish 
 and birds, wild yams, bread-fruit, and cocoanuts, 
 which, even the latter, he cooked before eating and 
 prepared before cooking. Pushed by an ever-present 
 healthy appetite, and helped by inherited instincts 
 based on the habits and knowledge of a long line 
 of civilized ancestry, he had advanced in four years 
 from an indolent, mindless existence to a plane of 
 fearless, reasoning activity. He was a hunter of 
 prowess, master of his surroundings, lord over all 
 creatures he had seen, and, though still a cave- 
 dweller when at home, in a fair way to become a 
 hut-builder, herdsman, and agriculturist ; for he had 
 arranged boughs to shelter him from the rain when 
 hunting, had attempted to block up the pass over the 
 wall to prevent the further wanderings of a herd of 
 hogs that he had pursued, and had lately become 
 
 221 
 
Primordial 
 
 interested in the sprouting of nuts and seeds and the 
 encroachments and changes of the vegetation. 
 
 Yet he lacked speech, and did his thinking without 
 words. The deficiency was not accompanied by the 
 unpleasant twisted features and grimacing of mutes, 
 which comes of conscious effort to communicate. His 
 features were smooth and regular, his mouth sym 
 metrical and firm, and his clear blue eye thoughtful 
 and intent as that of a student, for he had studied 
 and thought. He would smile and frown, laugh and 
 shout, growl and whine, the pitch and timbre of his 
 inarticulate utterance indicating the emotion which 
 prompted it to about the same degree as does an 
 intelligent dog s language to his master. But dogs 
 and other social animals converse in a speech beyond 
 human ken, and in this respect he was their inferior, 
 for he had not yet known the need of language, and 
 did not until, one day, in a section of his domain that 
 he had never visited before, because game avoided it, 
 down by the sea on the side of the wall opposite to 
 his cave, he met a creature like himself. 
 
 He had come down the wooded slope on the steady 
 jog-trot he assumed when travelling, tomahawk in 
 hand, careless, confident, and happy because of the 
 bright sunshine and his lately appeased hunger, and, 
 as he bounded on to the beach with a joyous whoop, 
 was startled by an answering scream. 
 
 Mingled with the frightful monsters in the dreams 
 of his childhood had been transient glimpses of a 
 kind, placid face that he seemed to know a face that 
 bent over him. lovingly and kissed him. These were 
 subconscious memories of his mother, which lasted 
 long after he had forgotten her. As he neared man 
 hood strange yearnings had come to him a dreary 
 loneliness and craving for company. In his sleep he 
 had seen fleeting visions of forms and faces like his 
 reflection in a pool like, yet unlike soft, curving 
 
 222 
 
Primordial 
 
 outlines, tinted cheeks, eyes that beamed, and white, 
 caressing hands appeared and disappeared frag 
 mentary and illusive. He could not distinctly re 
 member them when he wakened, but their influence 
 made him strangely happy, strangely miserable ; and 
 while the mood lasted he could not hunt and kill. 
 
 Standing knee-deep in a shallow pool on the beach, 
 staring at him with wide-open dark eyes, was the 
 creature that had screamed a living, breathing em 
 bodiment of the curves and colour, the softness, bright 
 ness, and gentle sweetness that his subconsciousness 
 knew. There were the familiar eyes, dark and limpid, 
 wondering but not frightened ; two white little teeth 
 showing between parted lips ; a wealth of long brown 
 hair held back from the forehead by a small hand ; 
 and a rounded, dimpled cheek, the damask shading 
 of which merged delicately into the olive tint that 
 extended to the feet. No Venus ever arose from the 
 sea with rarer lines of beauty than were combined in 
 the picture of loveliness which, backed by the blue of 
 the lagoon, appeared to the astonished eyes of this 
 wild boy. It was a girl naked as Mother Eve, and 
 as innocently shameless. 
 
 In the first confusion of his faculties, when habit 
 and inherent propensity conflicted, habit dominated 
 his mind. He was a huntsman feared and avoided : 
 here was an intruder. He raised his hatchet to throw, 
 but a second impulse brought it slowly down ; she 
 had shown no fear no appreciation of what the 
 gesture threatened. Dropping the weapon to the 
 ground, he advanced slowly, the wonder in his face 
 giving way to a delighted smile, and she came out of 
 the pool to meet him. 
 
 Face to face they looked into each other s eyes 
 long and earnestly ; then, as though the scrutiny 
 brought approval, the pretty features of the girl 
 sweetened to a smile, but she did not speak or attempt 
 
 223 
 
Primordial 
 
 to. Stepping past him, she looked back, still smiling, 
 halted until he followed, and then led him up to the 
 wall, where, on a level with the ground, was a hollow 
 in the formation, somewhat similar to his cave, but 
 larger. Flowering vines grew at the entrance, which 
 had prevented his seeing it before. She entered, and 
 emerged immediately with a life-buoy, which she held 
 before him, the action and smiling face indicating her 
 desire that he should admire it. 
 
 The boy thought he saw his property in the posses 
 sion of another creature, and resented the spoliation. 
 With an angry snarl he snatched the life-buoy and 
 backed away, while the girl, surprised and a little 
 indignant, followed with extended hands. He raised 
 it threateningly, and though she did not cower, she 
 knew intuitively that he was angry, and feeling the 
 injustice, burst into tears ; then, turning from him, 
 she covered her eyes with her hands and crouched to 
 the ground, sobbing piteously. 
 
 The face of the boy softened. He looked from the 
 weeping girl to the life-buoy and back again ; then, 
 puzzled still believing it to be his own he obeyed a 
 generous impulse. Advancing, he laid the treasure 
 at her feet ; but she turned away. Sober-faced and 
 irresolute, not knowing what to do, he looked around 
 and above. A pigeon fluttered on a branch at the 
 edge of the wood. He whipped out his sling, loaded 
 it, and sent a stone whizzing upward. The pigeon 
 fell, and he was beneath it before it reached the 
 ground. Hurrying back with the dead bird, he placed 
 it before her ; but she shuddered in disgust and would 
 not touch it. Off in the lagoon a misguided shark was 
 swimming slowly along, its dorsal fin cutting the 
 surface, a full two hundred yards from the beach. 
 He ran to the water s edge, looked back once, flourished 
 his sling, and two seconds later the shark was scudding 
 for the reef. If she had seen, she evidently was not 
 
 224 
 
Primordial 
 
 impressed. He returned, picked up his tomahawk on 
 the way, idly and nervously fingered the pebbles in 
 his pocket, stood a moment over the sulky girl, and 
 then studied the life-buoy on the ground. A light 
 came to his eyes ; with a final glance at the girl he 
 bounded up the slope and disappeared in the wood. 
 
 Three hours later he returned with his discarded 
 fetish, and found her sitting upright, with her life 
 buoy on her knees. She smiled gladly as he ap 
 proached, then pouted, as though remembering. Pant 
 ing from his exertion, he humbly placed the faded, 
 scarred, and misshapen ring on top of the brighter, 
 better - cared - for possession of the girl, and stood, 
 mutely pleading for pardon. It was granted. Smiling 
 radiantly a little roguishly she arose and led him 
 again to the cave, from which she brought forth 
 another treasure. It was a billet of wood a dead 
 branch, worn smooth at the ends around which were 
 wrapped faded, half-rotten rags of calico. Hugging 
 it for a moment, she handed it to him. He looked at 
 it wonderingly and let it drop, turning his eyes upon 
 her ; then, with impatience in her face, she reclaimed 
 it, entered the cave the boy following and tenderly 
 placed it in a corner. 
 
 It was her doll. Up to the borders of womanhood 
 untutored, unloved waif of the woods, living through 
 the years of her simple existence alone she had 
 lavished the instinctive mother-love of her heart on a 
 stick, and had clothed it, though not herself. 
 
 With a thoughtful little wrinkle in her brow, she 
 studied the face of this new companion who acted so 
 strangely, and he, equally mystified, looked around the 
 cave. A pile of nuts in a corner indicated her house 
 wifely thrift and forethought. A bed of dry moss 
 with an evenly-packed elevation at the end which 
 could be nothing but a pillow showed plainly the 
 manner in which she had preserved the velvety soft- 
 
 225 g 
 
Primordial 
 
 ness of her skin. Tinted shells and strips of faded 
 calico, arranged with some approach to harmony of 
 colour around the sides and the border of the floor, 
 gave evidence of the tutelage of the bower-birds, of 
 which there were many in the vicinity. And the 
 vines at the entrance had surely been planted they 
 were far from others of the kind. In her own way 
 she had developed as fully as he. As he stood there, 
 wondering at what he saw, the girl approached, slowly 
 and irresolutely ; then, raising her hand, she softly 
 pressed the tip of her finger into his shoulder. 
 
 In the dim and misty ages of the past, when wander 
 ing bands of ape-like human beings had not developed 
 their tribal customs to the level of priestly ceremonies 
 when the medicine-man had not arisen a marriage 
 between a man and a young woman was generally 
 consummated by the man beating the girl into insen 
 sibility, and dragging her by the hair to his cave. 
 Added to its simplicity, the custom had the merit of 
 improving the race, as unhealthy and ill-favoured 
 girls were not pursued, and similar men were clubbed 
 out of the pursuit by stronger. But the process was 
 necessarily painful to the loved one, and her female 
 children very naturally inherited a repugnance to 
 being wooed. 
 
 When a civilized young lady, clothed and well- 
 conducted, anticipates being kissed or embraced by 
 her lover, she places in the way such difficulties as 
 are in her power ; she gets behind tables and chairs, 
 runs from him, compels him to pursue, and expects 
 him to. In her maidenly heart she may want to be 
 kissed, but she cannot help resisting. She obeys the 
 same instinct that impelled this wild girl to spring 
 from the outstretched arms of the boy and go scream 
 ing out of the cave and down the beach in simulated 
 terror an instinct inherited from the prehistoric 
 mother, who fled for dear life and a whole skin from 
 
 226 
 
Primordial 
 
 a man behind armed with a club and bent upon 
 marriage. 
 
 Shouting hoarsely, the boy followed in what, if he 
 had been called upon to classify it, might have seemed 
 to him a fury of rage, but it was not. He would not 
 have harmed the girl, for he lacked the tribal education 
 that induces cruelty to the weaker sex. But he did 
 not catch her ; he stubbed his toe and fell, arising 
 with a bruised kneecap which prevented further pur 
 suit. Slowly, painfully, he limped back, tears welling 
 in his eyes and increasing to a copious flood as he sat 
 down with his back to the girl and nursed his aching 
 knee. It was not the pain that brought the tears ; he 
 was hardened to physical suffering. But his feelings 
 had been hurt beyond any disappointment of the 
 hunt or terror of the storm, and for the first time in 
 his life since his babyhood he wept like the intel 
 lectual child that he was. 
 
 A soft, caressing touch on his head aroused him 
 and brought him to his feet. She stood beside him, 
 tears in her own eyes, and sympathy overflowing in 
 every feature of the sweet face. From her lips came 
 little cooing, gurgling sounds which he endeavoured 
 to repeat. It was their first attempt at communication, 
 and the sounds that they used understood by mothers 
 and infants of all races were the first root-words of a 
 new language. He extended his arms, and though 
 she held back slightly, while a faint smile responded 
 to his own, she did not resist, and he drew her close 
 forgetting his pain as he pressed his lips to hers. 
 
 227 g 2 
 
THE SLUMBER OF A SOUL 
 
 A TALE OF A MATE AND A COOK 
 
 AT the age of twenty-five John Dorsey possessed few 
 attributes of mind or body that would distinguish 
 him from other sea -faring men beyond the deep 
 resonance of his voice and a strong memory for faces, 
 facts, and places which latter made him a wonderful 
 pilot, his mind retaining a vivid picture of every 
 harbour, island, rock, or shoal that he had once seen. 
 His strong lungs, with his pilotage and a general 
 intelligence, raised him early to the quarter-deck. 
 
 Born at Nassau, in the Bahamas, he had obtained 
 such education as the island schools afforded, had 
 followed wrecking until his brain was a compre 
 hensive chart of the whole West India group, and 
 had then made four long voyages one in the engine- 
 room. The closing years of the Civil War found him 
 engaged in blockade- running, which had grown to be 
 a prosperous though risky and, from his insular 
 standpoint, a legitimate business. Long, low, speedy 
 steamers were built, painted slate-colour, loaded with 
 munitions of war, and sent to dodge their way past 
 Federal cruisers into southern ports, to return with 
 cotton. In one of these the Petrel he occupied the 
 position of first mate, and stood aft near the taffrail, 
 
 228 
 
The Slumber of a Soul 
 
 one dark night, watching the indefinite loom of a 
 pursuing sloop of war about a mile astern. 
 
 At intervals a gleam, as of heat lightning, would 
 light up the blackness. Then could be heard the 
 humming and cheep-cheep of a ricochetting solid 
 shot, followed by the bark of the gun. They were 
 firing low. 
 
 The chase, commencing with the wind abeam, 
 ended with the wind ahead; for the quarry, with 
 large engine and small sail power, had edged around 
 in a wide curve until the sails of the pursuer no longer 
 drew. The cruisers of that time were at best but 
 auxiliaries, unfitted to chase to windward, and had 
 not this one, as though to voice her disgust to the 
 night, discharged a broadside as she squared away, 
 the fleeing steamer might have escaped. 
 
 It is this broadside, or, particularly, one round, 
 nine-inch shot of it, that concerns us. The rest of 
 them, with the screaming shells, flew wide or short. 
 This shot, unaimed and unhoped of, struck a sea at 
 a quarter of the distance, another at three-quarters, 
 arose in the air and crashed through the rudder and 
 stern posts of the Petrel, forward through the boiler, 
 and then on through the length of the steamer, 
 making holes for itself where necessary, from the last 
 of which in the port bow it dropped into the sea. 
 The Petrel was successfully raked and disabled. 
 
 When the shot had entered the stern, an iron 
 belaying-pin, jolted from its place in the tanrail by 
 the impact, had spun high as the cross-trees. Before 
 it came down, and coincident with the roar of escaping 
 steam from the punctured boiler, the mate had noted 
 the damage done in his department, and, to apprise 
 the captain on the bridge, roared out : Eudder- 
 
 post But the descending belaying-pin, striking 
 
 him a glancing blow on the head, cut short the 
 sentence, and he fell to the deck. 
 
 229 
 
The Slumber 
 
 The escaping steam brought the cruiser back to 
 the chase, and the Petrel was captured, towed to a 
 northern port, and condemned. Here John Dorsey, 
 still unconscious, though breathing, was placed in the 
 hospital of a military prison. In a week he opened 
 his eyes and smiled as a baby smiles. Then as a 
 baby looks at its hands, he looked at his, and cooed 
 softly. His skull had not, apparently, been injured, 
 and the lump raised had disappeared ; so he was told 
 to get up and dress. He only smiled, and was then 
 assisted. 
 
 It could hardly have been said that John Dorsey 
 had recovered consciousness. While physically 
 healthy, a negative, non- combative good -humour, 
 indicated by his smile, was the only mental attribute 
 apparent. He even seemed to lack some of the 
 instincts of self-preservation which the human, in 
 common with other animals, inherits from parents. 
 Feeling hunger, he would not eat food placed before 
 him until shown how ; and then not with a knife and 
 fork, or even by intelligent use of his fingers, but by 
 lowering his head in the manner of brutes. Hustled 
 aside by a harsh attendant, he felt pain, and cried 
 out with no articulation. But he felt no fear at the 
 next meeting ; he could not remember. 
 
 An inner sub - consciousness directed necessary 
 physiological functions, and he lived and gained 
 flesh. But, though far below the level of brutes in 
 intellect, he differed from them and idiots in his 
 capacity for improvement. For he learned to dress 
 himself, to use a knife and fork, to make his bed, 
 sweep, carry water, etc. The first sign of memory he 
 displayed was in his avoidance of the nurse, who 
 habitually abused him. He learned the names of 
 things one by one, and, in time, essayed to speak 
 them. But only with the progress of a gurgling 
 infant did he acquire a vocabulary sufficient for his 
 
 230 
 
of a Soul 
 
 wants ; and this he used, not in the breezy, quarter 
 deck tone of John Dorsey, but in accents soft and low, 
 as became the gentleness of his new nature. 
 
 Not being a prisoner of war, he was discharged 
 cured ; but being useful, and not a stickler for salary, 
 was allowed to remain in the hospital until it was 
 officially abolished, six months after the close of the 
 war. Then he was turned adrift a man in physique 
 but a child in experience ; for his life now dated from 
 the awakening in the hospital, and what he knew he 
 had learned since then. Not a glimmer or shadow of 
 memory as to his past remained. It was as though 
 the soul of John Dorsey had gone from him, and in 
 its place had come another, but a limited, a weakling 
 soul one that could feel no strong emotions, that 
 could neither love nor hate nor fear, in a human 
 sense. 
 
 Poorly equipped as he was, he naturally became a 
 beggar, but would work when told to. He wandered, 
 associating with tramps ; and under the tutelage of 
 tramps his mind expanded, but only to the limits of 
 his soul. Some things he could not understand. 
 
 In a measure the embargo on his faculties impressed 
 its stamp on his face ; but the features of the intel 
 ligent John Dorsey did not at once yield to the new 
 conditions, and while still a fit candidate for an asylum, 
 the strange mixture of expression, resembling care 
 worn candour, saved him from commitment as weak- 
 minded, though he was often sent to gaol as a vagrant. 
 For thirty years he was a hopeless wanderer on the 
 face of the earth, at the end of which time he had 
 learned much, considering his limitations. He could 
 talk fairly well in the slang of the road, and in an 
 evenly modulated tone of voice which was somewhat 
 plaintive. He could not read nor write ; but he could 
 count, though telling the time by the clock marked 
 the limit of his progress in practical mathematics. 
 
 231 
 
The Slumber 
 
 A time-table map, the chart of his wandering con 
 freres, was an incomprehensible puzzle to him. He 
 knew the use of money and what his day s labour was 
 worth, but his lack of skill at the simplest tasks pre 
 vented his holding a job ; hence his ever-reactionary 
 tendency to beggary. Latterly, however, he had 
 worked in a hotel kitchen, and, liking the shelter and 
 warmth, cultivated the industry to the extent of be 
 coming, in spite of himself, a fairly good third-rate 
 cook. 
 
 At the hospital he had been No. 7. Asked his 
 name later, he had given this number, which his 
 tramp companions corrupted to * Shiven, and prefixed 
 with Jack their hall-mark of fellowship. His 
 beard had grown, and, with his hair, was of a soft 
 shade of brown. With no vices to age him, and tor 
 mented by no speculations as to his origin or destiny 
 the impressions of a year back being forgotten 
 unless renewed by friction his face, though changed, 
 was even more youthful than the sailor Dorsey s. In 
 repose it was stupid ; but when he was pleased and 
 smiled with the same infantile smile that marked 
 the birth of his new existence it lighted up with the 
 ineffable glory of an angel s. It was the mute expres 
 sion of an innocence of soul which approached the 
 divine beyond human understanding and it won 
 him universal goodwill, though not always good treat 
 ment. 
 
 In the autumn of 1895 he was in New York, penni 
 less ; and overhearing from a group of South Street 
 loungers that the Avon, at Pier No. 9, wanted a cook, 
 hurried there and met her captain, stepping over the 
 rail to find one. 
 
 I heard you had no cook, he began. 
 
 You a cook ? 
 
 I kin cook plain grub. 
 
 Ever been to sea ? 
 
 232 
 
of a Soul 
 
 No. 1 
 
 Where s your clothes ? 
 
 The applicant looked down at himself. 
 
 Tramp, aren t you? said the captain good- 
 humouredly. 
 
 Yes, kinder, he answered, and smiled. 
 
 Come aboard. I m in a hurry. Thirty dollars a 
 month. Say " sir " when you speak to me or the 
 mate. 
 
 The Avon was a two-masted, schooner-rigged, five- 
 hundred-ton iron screw steamer, with an old-fashioned 
 oscillating engine, which her old-fashioned engineer 
 patted lovingly for the wonderful bursts of speed he 
 could induce from it. Against his name on the Avon s 
 articles, the new cook placed his mark for the highest 
 rate of pay he had worked for as Jack Shiven. He 
 was sea-sick the first day out, but recovered, and gave 
 satisfaction. Quiet, good-humoured, and obliging, he 
 smiled on all hands and won their hearts. He s a 
 daft man, but a good un, said the engineer. 
 
 At Cedar Keys, Florida, Captain Swift brought 
 aboard one evening a tall, dark man, with whom he 
 consulted locked in his cabin. As they parted at the 
 rail he said in a low tone : We re speedy enough to 
 get away from any cutter on the coast, and, I think, 
 any Bruiser the Spanish have over. This was a 
 blockade dodger in war times, named the Petrel. Still, 
 as I said, Doctor, I must consult my crew. It s risky 
 work. 
 
 Did you own the Avon then when she was the 
 Petrel V asked the other, speaking with an accent that 
 stamped him a foreigner. 
 
 No, answered the captain ; I bought her years 
 afterwards. But, he added proudly, I sailed in her 
 fore the mast when she was captured. They jugged 
 us for a while, then let us go. Twas curious about 
 the mate, a fellow named Dorsey. Got a rap on the 
 
 233 
 
The Slumber 
 
 head somehow, and came to in the hospital, but lost 
 his bearings didn t know his name, and couldn t 
 understand when told. They let him out fore they 
 did us, and we lost all track of him. It s pitiful the 
 way his old mother sits up on the rocks over at Nassau 
 and watches the channels. She expects her boy back 
 says she knows he ll come. I ve got so I hate to 
 bring the Avon there ; for every time I ve done it 
 she s recognised the old Petrel, and waved her shawl 
 from the rocks, and rushed aboard. And I ve always 
 had to give her the same old story : " Haven t heard 
 from him." It s heart-breaking. But John Dorsey s 
 dead, sure. 
 
 In a couple of days the Avon sailed, with the dark 
 stranger below in the empty hold. Two hours later 
 a revenue cutter, primed with information of a pur 
 posed breach of the neutrality laws, lifted her anchor 
 and followed, a menacing speck on the horizon astern 
 of the Avon, and an irritation to the quickened nerves 
 of her captain, as he viewed her through the glass, 
 and wondered and guessed and swore. But next 
 morning the horizon was clear, and the Avon, having 
 doubled the Florida reef in the night, was steaming 
 up the east coast. The following midnight found her 
 well up past Cape Canaveral, and here, after answer 
 ing a rocket from the shore, she cautiously, and with 
 much heaving of the lead and speaking-tube calls to 
 the engine-room, felt her way through a narrow inlet 
 in the outlying reef, or sand-covered barrier, into the 
 enclosed lagoon, where she lay, with steam up and 
 without anchoring, while her crew brought off, with 
 the three boats, numerous boxes, cases, and barrels, 
 which they stowed carefully in the hold. 
 
 As the largest boat came out, the captain said to the 
 tall stranger : I ll not have that stuff aboard. We ll 
 tow it astern. It s fine weather and smooth water. 
 Here, you cook, Jack Shiven, watch this boat. Don t 
 
 234 
 
of a Soul 
 
 let it touch the side, or it ll blow your old head off ! 
 Keep it away with an oar. The boat was fastened to 
 the stern by the painter, and the cook, who had been 
 awakened by the unusual proceedings, obeyed orders. 
 
 Then, leaving the dark man on the bridge to watch 
 the horizon, and a negro fireman in the boiler-room 
 to keep up steam, every other man in the crew, from 
 the captain to the mess-boy, went ashore in the next 
 boat, for the last and hardest lift of all. A large 
 shell-gun, too heavy for one boat, was to be carried 
 off on a temporary deck covering two. At this work 
 they were engaged when daylight broke ; and with its 
 coming appeared, outside the barrier and heading for 
 the inlet, the revenue cutter that had followed them, 
 with ports open, guns showing, and at her gaff-end a 
 string of small flags, which, in the silent Volapiik of 
 the sea, said : Get under way as fast as you can ! 
 
 A signal-book and a good glass are needed, as a 
 rule, to interpret this language. The captain and 
 mate ashore had neither, and those aboard were not 
 tutored in their use ; so the command was neither 
 answered nor obeyed. The jig s up, said the cap 
 tain. Get this gun ashore again. We ll go aboard 
 and answer, or he may fire. They ll confiscate my 
 boat, but I don t want her sunk. 
 
 But their hurry to unload the gun resulted in the 
 swamping of one boat and the staving of the other ; 
 so they were forced to remain and hope. 
 
 Kun up a white flag! roared the captain ; then 
 scull that boat ashore. 
 
 The cook heard, but could not understand. The 
 man on the bridge understood, but could not obey 
 he could not find the flag-locker. However, he im 
 pressed on the cook s mind the wisdom of getting the 
 boat ashore. But Jack Shiven only smiled and shook 
 his head. He could not scull a boat. Neither could 
 the Cuban for such he was and the fireman con- 
 
 235 
 
The Slumber 
 
 scientiously and emphatically refused to leave his 
 work. He had shipped fireman, not sailor. 
 
 The boom of an unshotted gun was heard from 
 seaward given as a hint, which, of course, was not 
 taken. Then another report, louder, came from the 
 cutter, and with it a shot, aimed to cross the stern of 
 the Avon. But years of service in the revenue marine 
 had somewhat demoralized the old man-of-war s man 
 who had charge of the gun. He did not allow for the 
 half-charge of powder and the lateral deflection given 
 the consequently ricochetting shot by choppy waves, 
 running at angle with his aim. That shot, barely 
 clearing the reef, made a curve, shorter with each 
 blow of a glancing sea, bounded over the stern of the 
 Avon, and cut through the port main-boom lift (a 
 wire rope), which fell and struck the wondering, 
 smiling cook on the head a slight blow, but enough. 
 The shot buried itself in the sand on the beach, 
 having undone the work of that other Government 
 shot fired thirty years before : it had wakened the 
 sleeping soul of John Dorsey. He reeled, recovered, 
 and, in a cracked falsetto, cried out, Carried away, 
 sir ! finishing the sentence begun in his youth and 
 interrupted by the descending belaying-pin. Clapping 
 his hands to his head, he looked around, bewildered, 
 then bounded forward to the bridge. The Cuban 
 followed. 
 
 Are you hurt ? asked the latter. 
 
 Hurt? Who are you? Get off the bridge! 
 Where s the captain ? Who s got the wheel ? His 
 voice was choked and guttural. 
 
 The captain is on shore with the crew. Do you 
 not see them ? 
 
 Dorsey reached into the pilot-house, and in the old 
 familiar nook placed his hand on a pair of glasses, 
 with which, after a suspicious inspection, he examined 
 the group on the beach. 
 
 236 
 
of a Soul 
 
 None of our crowd, he muttered. Then he turned 
 the glass on the revenue vessel outside. 
 
 Haven t they got enough men-of-war on the coast 
 without trotting out their cutters ? he growled. 
 What s he say? " M, L, H" get under way. 
 Say, you, he demanded of the Cuban, what s 
 happened? What time is it? When d you join 
 this boat? 
 
 * On the day before yesterday, at Cedar Keys. 
 
 You lie ! snarled Dorsey. We haven t been 
 there in four months ; but he felt his head again 
 what s happened? Everything looks queer. 
 Where s the ball on the pilot-house ? Two minutes 
 ago it was night-time. What does this mean ? 
 Whose shirt have I got on ? 
 
 Two minutes ago you were struck on the head, 
 and have acted strangely since, answered the Cuban, 
 who thought the cook was crazed by the blow. 
 
 Yes, I know something belted me ; my head s 
 pretty sore. But you weren t aboard, and twas up 
 near Hatteras. Now we re down here in Gallino 
 Bay, and it s daylight. I must ha been knocked 
 silly, and stayed so. What day is it Monday? 
 Three days ago ! Dorsey s mind had solved the 
 problem, though, of course, with no regard to the 
 lapse of time. But his mind had not yet regained 
 the command of Jack Shiven s body ; his gestures 
 were clumsy, and his eyes, wide open and alert, 
 though not the eyes of Jack Shiven, were not the 
 eyes of John Dorsey. His voice was a mixture of 
 strange sounds, and he coughed continually. 
 
 What ails my throat ? And this ? he exclaimed. 
 He had felt his beard. Say, Mister Man, am I dead 
 or alive, or asleep, or crazy ? Who am I ? 
 
 * I believe you are the cook of this boat, in a sad 
 condition of mind, said the Cuban dryly, more 
 interested now in the approaching cutter. 
 
 237 
 
The Slumber 
 
 Cook ! I m mate if I m anything ! spluttered 
 Dorsey, the sailor in him aroused by the affront. 
 Yet the terror in his eyes might have indicated 
 his doubts that he was anything. 
 
 The vessel outside had stopped her engines at the 
 mouth of the inlet, and now sent another and better- 
 aimed shot across the Avon s stern. It aroused 
 Dorsey to fury. 
 
 That s your game, is it ? he growled hoarsely. 
 * All right. " Get under way," you say. He sprang 
 to the deck, saw that the anchors were on the rail, 
 then, to satisfy misgivings thirty years old, ran aft 
 and looked over the stern at the rudder. It was 
 there, intact, and he hurried to the engine-room 
 hatch. 
 
 Down there, Chief ? he called. Who s below ? 
 
 There was no answer. He reached the fire-room 
 hatch at a bound, and met, emerging, the woolly head 
 of the fireman, who had heard the gun and wanted to 
 know. 
 
 What steam you got ? demanded Dorsey, who 
 recognised his craft, though not knowing him. 
 
 Wha dat yo business, Jack Shiven ? Yo g back 
 t yo pots an pans, an doan yo cum foolin roun 
 dis yere fire-hole ! Dis fire too hot f yo . Yo git 
 bawned, shua ! Yah, yah, yah-ha ! Who fire dat 
 cannon, cookie ? 
 
 What steam you got ? The words seemed to 
 explode from the throat. * Answer me, you black 
 imp, or I ll jam you into that furnace ! How many 
 pounds ? 
 
 Wha dat 
 
 The fireman got no further. Dorsey s fingers 
 gripped his throat, and in a second he was sprawled 
 backward over the hatch-combing. Squeezing hard 
 for a moment, the infuriated questioner again de 
 manded : What steam you got ? 
 
 238 
 
of a Soul 
 
 Fifty pounds, Jack, gurgled the negro. Le go ! 
 Wha yo want ? 
 
 * Get down there ! Bring it up to sixty, and keep 
 it so. I m going to start the engine. Down with 
 you, quick ! Don t you leave that fire-hold till I 
 tell you. 
 
 The frightened fireman descended, and Dorsey 
 examined the engine. 
 
 Same scrap-heap, he muttered. * Hasn t changed 
 like me and the boat, and the heavens and earth. 
 He ran forward again. In the after-end of the pilot 
 house he found a chest, which he kicked open, scatter 
 ing the contents, signal-flags, on the floor. He picked 
 out three, and called the Cuban. 
 
 Who are you, anyhow ? he asked. Can you 
 run the engine ? 
 
 No. 1 
 
 * Can you steer ? 
 
 * I cannot. 
 
 Then I must do both. Eun these three flags up 
 to the truck in the order I name them K, G, P. 
 Understand? K on top. They re marked. Quick, 
 now ! 
 
 Why? demanded the other. * What do these 
 flags say ? 
 
 * They say our engine s broken down, if you must 
 know ! yelled Dorsey. * I want to stop his fire and 
 draw him into the inlet, then dash by him. It s our 
 only chance. D you want to end your days in a 
 Yankee prison ? Bear a hand, or you will that is, 
 unless you want to swim. The Cuban glanced at 
 three dorsal fins alongside, towards which Dorsey 
 pointed, and took the flags. He had watched the 
 friction at the hatch with as much amusement as 
 would mingle with his apprehension of arrest. But 
 this masterful, methodical lunatic, who had given 
 such forceful instructions to the fireman, and who 
 
 239 
 
The Slumber 
 
 now seemed to have the international signal code in 
 his head, was the same smiling imbecile who could 
 not scull a boat. Suspicions of Spanish espionage 
 disturbed him. Yet the other s action might indicate 
 a desire to escape ; and so, reasoning that whatever 
 the flags might say, his position would be made no 
 worse, he hoisted them, while Dorsey, after giving a 
 tentative turn or two to the engine, watched the effect 
 on the cutter. 
 
 The ruse succeeded. The mendacious message, 
 read aboard the Government craft, caused her to 
 reserve her fire and enter the inlet. Then Dorsey 
 threw the throttle wide open, and, with a passing 
 objurgation to the victim in the fire-room, ran to 
 the wheel. 
 
 Come up here and give me a hand, he called ; 
 but the Cuban did not answer. He had just seen 
 a dark figure emerge from the fire-room, take a 
 hurried look around, and speed to the stern, where 
 the boat, nearly on end now as the steamer gathered 
 way, was fastened by its painter. Acting on a sudden 
 resolution, he followed, choosing to join the party 
 ashore with the aid of the fireman who could scull 
 rather than remain with a man who, if not a 
 maniac, was a most unpleasant and aggressive com 
 panion, possibly a Spanish spy. He slipped down 
 the rope after the negro, and cut the boat clear. 
 
 Dorsey saw them, shook his fist, and steered for the 
 inlet ; but three minutes later, with a muttered curse, 
 he sprang from the pilot-house down to the deck and 
 aft to the engine-room, where he shut off the steam, 
 reversed the engine and turned it on. A bulging 
 turmoil of white froth under the cutter s counter had 
 told him that she was backing out of the inlet pos 
 sibly on account of grounding. Anxiously he watched 
 from the engine-room door while the Avon backed to 
 nearly her first position ; then, when he saw the 
 
 240 
 
of a Soul 
 
 cutter again go ahead, he gave headway to the Avon 
 and took the wheel. 
 
 But, unseen by him, the small boat, after landing 
 the Cuban and the fireman, had again left the beach, 
 this time with a single occupant, who sculled vigor 
 ously towards the Avon, and, unable to gain the 
 steamer s side, sprang to the bow of the boat barely 
 in time to catch an eye-bolt in the rudder. To this 
 he held with both hands, as the painter had been cut 
 too short to be of use. Dorsey, at the wheel, felt the 
 drag on the rudder, but ascribed it to shallow water 
 and an uneven bottom. The two steamers met in the 
 inlet. 
 
 Where are you going ? bawled a brass-buttoned 
 officer from the cutter s bridge. * Stop your engine, 
 or I ll sink you ! 
 
 Dorsey reached his head and half his body through 
 the pilot-house window and shouted in reply : Our 
 engine s running away with us lever s broken. 
 We ll pull our fires outside. 
 
 The officer doubted, but hesitated, and the Avon 
 swept by at a fifteen-knot rate. Outside, Dorsey 
 edged up into the cutter s wake, and, by keeping her 
 masts in line, avoided for a while her fire ; for she 
 was a revenue-cutter, built to pursue, not to flee ; 
 hence, none of her guns could be trained over the 
 stern. But was ever dignified Government craft 
 placed in a more undignified position ? She could 
 not safely back out of the inlet now, and by the time 
 she had steamed in, turned around, and started sea 
 ward the Avon was a mile and a half away, with an 
 increased blackness to her line of belching smoke 
 which indicated anything but an intention to pull 
 fires. Dorsey, lashing the wheel, had gone down and 
 added fuel, tried the water, talked (after the manner 
 of the engine-room) to the oscillating cylinder, wagging 
 away like the stump-tail of an overpleased dog, and 
 
 241 R 
 
The Slumber 
 
 returned to the wheel ; while the man in the boat 
 under the stern shouted profanely and vainly for 
 assistance, and, crouching low in the bow of the boat, 
 relieved one aching arm by the other. Dorsey could 
 not hear him. 
 
 Shot after shot from the cutter s long-range guns 
 hummed around the Avon, but none of them struck. 
 Though her armament was modern, her engines were 
 old older than the Avon s, and inferior by two knots 
 speed per hour and she lost ground steadily. Dorsey 
 steered due east, made periodical trips to the boat s 
 vitals, and in two hours whooped in triumph as he 
 saw the pursuer turn slowly around and start back. 
 An hour later, and about five minutes after the ex 
 hausted man in the boat had let go the rudder, Dorsey 
 drew his fires, stopped the engine, and cooked his 
 breakfast, hardly yet recovered from his excitement 
 sufficiently to realize to the full his isolation not of 
 space, but of time. He was still of the past, just 
 escaped from peril a generation gone. 
 
 He finished his meal and wanted a smoke. Going 
 to his old room, he found strange clothing, strange 
 alterations of the fittings, but no pipe. Queer, he 
 muttered. Got someone in my place, I suppose. 
 His tone was aggrieved. * Might ha waited more n 
 three days. Wonder how long, though, I ve been 
 silly. Not long my head s sore yet. But I ve grown 
 a beard. Wonder what hit me. I ll get a pipe down 
 forrard. 
 
 In the forecastle he found one and a strange brand 
 of tobacco, which he confiscated. Keturning to the 
 deck, he smoked and reflected, but in a few minutes 
 put the pipe down, nauseated. Jack Shiven had not 
 been a smoker. 
 
 What ll I do ? he mused. Go back to the coast 
 and pick up the crew ? That wasn t the crew. The 
 boat s changed hands. Has she been taken ? Maybe 
 
 242 
 
of a Soul 
 
 and I was too dead to move. Wish I knew where 
 that cutter ll hunt next. Wish I knew what s hap 
 pened. What ails the boat ? She looks as though 
 she d been through seven hells. He went to the rail. 
 Old paint! he exclaimed. Old ivoodwork ! Old 
 boat ! Where s she been to ? Wire-rigged, too. I ll 
 see the articles. I ll see if I belong here. 
 
 The captain s room was locked. In no condition of 
 mind to care for nautical etiquette, he raised his foot, 
 burst in the door, and entered. A large mirror on 
 the bulkhead reflected his image, and he stood trans 
 fixed by the strange, staring, bearded face which 
 was not his own. He raised his hand ; the image did 
 the same. He inclined his head to the right and the 
 left, and was accompanied. 
 
 It s me, he groaned, and it isn t me. Approach 
 ing the glass, he examined closely the spectre con 
 fronting him. There was not a trace of resemblance 
 between the old and the new John Dorsey, unless it 
 was the colour of the eyes. Hair, features even the 
 shape of the nose and thickness of the lips were 
 changed. The shoulders, too, were more sloping, as 
 though dragged down by weights. John Dorsey had 
 pulled ropes, downward : Jack Shiven had wheeled 
 barrows. 
 
 He sank down on a chest in helpless fright, while 
 perspiration oozed from his forehead. In the berth 
 lay a folded and discoloured newspaper, which he 
 seized and examined. It was dated January 1, 1895. 
 
 He threw it down. Can t be, he said, with a 
 doubting, though piteous, half-smile. Seventy-five, 
 eighty-five, ninety-five thirty years. Nonsense; 
 where s the log-book ? 
 
 He found it in the mate s room its last departure 
 dated October 3, 1895. With brain on fire, he re 
 turned to the captain s room and attacked the boat s 
 library, tearing books from their places, examining 
 
 243 R 2 
 
The Slumber 
 
 the publishers imprints, and throwing them down. 
 They bore dates ranging through the years following 
 the war. He burst the captain s desk apart and found 
 the articles. His name was not there. The last 
 
 his 
 
 entered was Jack x Shiven, cook ; and the articles 
 
 mark 
 
 also were dated thirty years into the future. He 
 crept on deck. He wanted air. 
 
 Not a breath of wind ruffled the glassy surface of 
 the ground-swell, which, sent by some distant gale, 
 had thrown the Avon into its trough, and was rolling 
 her gently as she drifted north with the Gulf Stream. 
 The sun was shining from a cloud-flecked sky, and in 
 the air was all the softness of the Florida winter. 
 But to this human soul, torn from its past, plunged 
 alone and unguided far into the unknown, there was 
 something unreal, unearthly, in the aspect of sea and 
 sky. There was insufferable heat and dryness in the 
 air he breathed, and a new, metallic ring to the tink 
 ling swash of the water as the boat rolled ; and this 
 sound, with the hissing of steam from the boiler, 
 seemed but to accentuate the intense silence of the 
 ocean, which bore him down and crushed him. 
 
 Who am I? he thought, rather than uttered. 
 I m not John Dorsey. I m someone else. Who ? 
 
 He backed up against the side of the forward-house. 
 Off to the westward was a speck the revenue-cutter. 
 It was a tangible reality, and his dazed faculties seized 
 it. He traced back, painfully, the events of the 
 morning. * She chased me out here, he whispered. 
 * Who was that Dago ? He knew me. Who was the 
 nigger, and the crowd on the beach ? They were not 
 the crew I m not the mate. He walked aft. Here 
 I stood this morning last night when I was struck, 
 he muttered; and then all at once it was day 
 light, and I was here. He moved a few steps. And 
 
 244 
 
of a Soul 
 
 nothing is the same. He noticed the broken wire 
 rope on the deck. What parted the lift ? It seems 
 y es it must be that is what hit me. I remember 
 now; I saw it move on the deck. It must have 
 knocked me senseless, and meanwhile the boat has 
 had trouble. But they haven t mended the lift ; and 
 it was a hemp lift, too, not wire and I m still in her 
 no, I m not I m not John Dorsey, I m someone 
 else. Who am I ? I can t make it out. Who in hell 
 am I ? He clung to the taffrail and screamed loudly 
 and hoarsely in an agony of terror. Then he ran 
 forward aft and forward again. He burst into the 
 captain s room, examined again the face in the glass 
 which he loathed and fled from it. 
 
 On the pilot-house was the boat s name, which he 
 had not noticed on the articles, and saw now for the 
 first time. He sprang to the bow and looked over. 
 There, in block copper letters, where once had been 
 the word Petrel, was the boat s later name. Aft on 
 the stern he read it again Avon, of New York. 
 He seated himself on a hatch, strangely enough 
 steadier in mind for the removal of the Petrel from 
 the problem ; and when a little of the terror had 
 left his face, he noticed an anchor worked in india-ink 
 on the back of his hand the soft, white hand of Jack 
 Shiven, the cook. He looked at it dubiously, then 
 pulled up his right sleeve. There, close to the elbow, 
 was a wreath, and within it the letters * J. D. He 
 tore open his shirt, and on his breast found a mole. 
 Springing to his feet, he raised his clenched fist, 
 brought it slowly down, and said, calmly and de 
 cisively : * I am John Dorsey, and this boat he 
 scanned the fabric from trucks to curving deck with 
 the eye of a sailor who loves his craft this boat is 
 the Petrel 9 
 
 On deck, there ! came a hail from over the side. 
 He stepped to the rail. A hatless, coatless man was 
 
 245 
 
The Slumber 
 
 wearily sculling a boat up to the steamer. Give me 
 line/ he called as he approached. Dorsey obliged 
 him. * Why didn t you answer me ? he said, as he 
 climbed over the rail ; why didn t you pay out that 
 painter ? You ve pulled my arms six inches longer. 
 lie peered into Dorsey s puzzled face ; then, as though 
 appreciating the humour of the situation, he advanced 
 with twinkling eyes and collared him. 
 
 1 So-ho, my man, he said, never been to sea, hey ? 
 Yet you can steer. Can t scull a boat ashore, but 
 can run an engine and steal a big steamer. He gave 
 Dorsey a gentle shake. The next moment he was 
 seated on the deck a dozen feet away, rubbing a 
 smarting spot on his chest about as large as Dorsey s 
 fist which fist, as unused to such collisions as Dorsey 
 was to a shaking, was also being rubbed. In his in 
 complete correspondence with his environment, Dorsey 
 was still first mate of the Petrel, dealing with an 
 insolent member of her crew ; for time had touched 
 lightly the captain of the Avon, and he recognised him. 
 
 The nigger was right, muttered the captain as he 
 arose; mad as an Irish duke on a tater-hill. He 
 bounded into his room ; but Dorsey was after him, 
 and before he could cock the revolver which he seized 
 from his wrecked desk it was twisted from his hand 
 and dropped into Dorsey s pocket ; then he was 
 dragged out on deck and seated not too gently on 
 a hatch. 
 
 Now then, Jim Swift, said the angry Dorsey, with 
 his hand on the captain s collar, you sit right there 
 and answer a few questions answer them civilly. 
 What do you know? What happened to me and 
 the boat ? 
 
 Why, Jack, I really don t know, said the captain, 
 resolved to humour his captor, whose apparent 
 maniacal strength prevented an escape ; but his neck 
 was nearly dislocated by the sudden shake he received 
 
 246 
 
of a Soul 
 
 as Dorsey thundered : Don t call me " Jack " I m 
 out of the forecastle. That the way you speak to an 
 officer ? Answer me ! 
 
 I don t know. You ran off with my boat ; but 
 that s all right good thing you did. Don t choke me 
 don t ! Dorsey had shifted his fingers. 
 
 * No nonsense ! What s the matter with me ? 
 Where s this boat been? Where s the skipper and 
 the rest of the crew ? What happened after that 
 broadside ? 
 
 Captain Swift looked up into the face of the other, 
 doubtful as to what answer to make ; but there was 
 no gleam of insanity in the earnest eyes that were fixed 
 upon him, and he saw it. His answer was unfortunate. 
 
 * Now, look here, my man, he said ; better drop 
 this game, whatever it is. You seem to be some kind 
 of an ash-cat as well as pot-wrastler. Get into the 
 engine-room I ll take care o the boat ; or else get 
 into the galley, where you belong. 
 
 It is as unwise in a sailor to call an engineer an 
 ash-cat as to call his watch-officer a pot-wrastler. 
 Dorsey swung him to his feet and struck him between 
 the eyes with his clenched fist. 
 
 When Captain Swift recovered his faculties and sat 
 up, dazed and disfigured, his wrists were ironed ; for 
 he had lain quiet on the deck long enough for Dorsey 
 to rummage the mate s room for handcuffs. 
 
 Now, then, my lad, said his conqueror sternly, 
 something s wrong I don t know what but as you 
 won t answer questions here, you might be induced to 
 in the Government House. Which ll you do help 
 me get this boat back to Nassau and hold your berth 
 and your money, or stay in irons, lose your pay, and 
 be kicked into gaol for insubordination ? 
 
 Well, said the subdued captain painfully, * I don t 
 know but Nassau s a good place for this boat just 
 now. What d you want me to do ? 
 
 247 
 
The Slumber 
 
 * Want you to say " sir " when you speak to me ! 
 roared Dorsey. Do that first. 
 
 * Yes, sir ; what do you want me to do ? 
 
 * You can t run the engine ? 
 No, sir. 
 
 All right you can steer. Will you do as you re 
 told if I unlock you with no growling ? 
 
 Yes, sir. 
 
 Dorsey released him, and lifted him to his feet by 
 his collar. Take the wheel ! he said, with an em 
 phasizing shake ; * bring her sou -sou -east when I 
 start the machine. And, mind you, if you play any 
 games, overboard you go ! 
 
 Yes, sir. 
 
 The captain climbed the bridge steps to the pilot 
 house. 
 
 Might ha known better than to ship a lunatic in 
 the first place, he muttered. But he saved the old 
 boat for me, just the same. And he s more than a 
 sailor he s been an officer he knows the road to the 
 Providence Channel. Great Scott, what a fist he s 
 got ! Minds me o the smash I got at school Jack 
 Dorsey my God ! I wonder Dorsey was an engineer 
 thinks he s an officer here thinks I m fore the 
 mast calls me Jim Swift, and I haven t heard the 
 name for twenty years. He looked aft at Dorsey, 
 leading the small boat to the stern by its improvised 
 painter, and shook his head. No, he added ; Dorsey 
 was taller ; yet there s something about him. Well, 
 we re going to Nassau; there s an old woman there 
 who ll know, and I ll be at the meeting if I m alive. 
 
 All that day and the following night Captain Swift 
 was an obedient and respectful helmsman. Dorsey 
 gravitated from the boiler and engine to the bridge, 
 passing in food to the captain at meal-times, lighting 
 the binnacle and side-lights as night came on, and 
 giving such indubitable evidence of sanity that Captain 
 
 248 
 
of a Soul 
 
 Swift once ventured to address him as Mr. Dorsey. 
 It was taken as a matter of course, whereat the captain 
 danced a silent jig at the wheel. 
 
 And Dorsey, quiet and masterful defiant of Fate 
 too incensed at the other to ask further, forced the 
 mystery from his mind. He would know in the 
 morning, when he met the owners. Through the 
 night, when his engine-room duties permitted, he 
 occasionally relieved the fatigued helmsman at the 
 long trick at the wheel, and allowed him to smoke, 
 but not to leave the bridge. 
 
 In the morning, as the languid islanders were 
 waking to their indolent existence, Dorsey, on the 
 bridge, conned the steamer into the west channel of 
 Nassau harbour. On the highest point of the low 
 shore was a figure that waved something red. He 
 did not see it, though the man in the pilot-house did, 
 and, when Dorsey s back was turned, answered with 
 his hand through the window. Inside the harbour 
 Dorsey stopped the engine while he puzzled over the 
 action of a patent windlass which was new to him. 
 Mastering this, he went on at half-speed. The figure 
 had left the rocks, and, still waving the red cloth, was 
 hastening towards the landing. Close in as he dared 
 go, Dorsey again shut off steam, and, with the cap 
 tain s help, pried the small anchor off the rail and 
 dropped it ; then, ordering the other to bring the boat 
 alongside, he washed the grime of the fire-hold from 
 his hands and face. 
 
 Boat alongside, sir, reported the captain when 
 the toilet was finished. Shall I take you in, sir ? 
 
 Yes, said Dorsey curtly ; but don t try to jump 
 at the dock, or it ll be worse for you. I want you up 
 at the owners . 
 
 Captain Swift almost fell into the boat, so fearful 
 was he of being ordered to remain ; and with Dorsey 
 seated on a midship thwart, wondering at the appear- 
 
 249 
 
The Slumber 
 
 ance of the water-front, he sculled to the steps of the 
 nearest public wharf. As they landed, an old woman 
 in a red shawl was waiting. 
 
 With some difficulty Dorsey recognised in the stern 
 face of this decrepit old woman the features he had 
 known and loved as his mother s. Not once, in his 
 trouble of mind, had the strong man thought of her ; 
 and he approached her now with such emotion as 
 might accrue from a week s absence ; for by his 
 chronology it was but a week since he had kissed her 
 good-bye. 
 
 Mother, he said, as he reached out his arms, 
 what is it ? What s happened to us ? I m changed ; 
 you re changed ; and the town s not the same every 
 thing is old. Tell me, mother. 
 
 Hush ! she answered harshly ; don t mock me 
 with that name. Where is my boy, Captain Swift 
 my Johnny ? Have you brought him back ? 
 
 Somewhat dubiously, Captain Swift, in the rear, 
 pointed at Dorsey. She peered into his face in 
 which the first terror was again showing shook her 
 head, folded her shawl tightly about her, and turned 
 her back to him. 
 
 Mother! he called despairingly, as she walked 
 away. 
 
 Something in the tone some inherent, lingering 
 trace of his baby wail struck to the heart of the 
 old woman. She needed no more. He was tugging 
 desperately at his sleeve to show her the initials on 
 his arm, but she gave him no time for that. She 
 was back to him, with her arms about his neck and 
 her lips to his bearded face, crying and crooning 
 incoherently over him with all the old endearments of 
 her early motherhood. 
 
 Oh, Johnny, she cried, when she could speak 
 clearly, I knew you d come back ; I always knew it 
 and in the Petrel. 
 
 250 
 
of a Soul 
 
 But it isn t the Petrel, mother ; it s the Avon, of 
 New York. Why, I don t know. That s what bothers 
 me. 
 
 1 1 know they call her the Avon now ; but she s 
 the Petrel to me ; she took you away from me. But 
 where d you go, my boy ? Why didn t you write ? 
 
 1 Write where d I go? said the puzzled Dorsey. 
 * Mother, what year is it ? 
 
 1 Eighteen ninety-five, John; didn t you know that? 
 
 Captain Swift advanced, seized Dorsey by the hand, 
 and said gravely : Thirty years, Mr. Dorsey, you ve 
 been gone ; can t you remember ? Don t you know 
 that the Petrel was taken and that you went to the 
 hospital? Don t you remember shipping cook with 
 me at New York as Jack Shiven ? 
 
 Dorsey only stared blankly at him, and the captain 
 went on, shaking his hand vigorously : 
 
 I didn t know you you re so changed ; but I might 
 ha known you, if I hadn t been an all-round chump, 
 when you dodged the cutter. No man alive could ha 
 done that but Jack Dorsey. I didn t know you till 
 you gave me the old familiar smash in the eyes. But 
 I kept still and obeyed orders ; I d ha given my boat, 
 if necessary, to be at this meeting. Thirty years, 
 Jack, you ve been gone, and every day of it she s sat 
 on those rocks waiting for you the captain was 
 winking hard and we all told her you were dead ; 
 but she knew better. Come out to the boat when you 
 can, Jack. There s only one thing that fits this 
 occasion; if you d smashed more furniture, you d ha 
 found it. It was bottled the year you went under. 
 
 Thirty years, said Dorsey, almost in a whisper, 
 while he looked into the blue sky and around at the 
 harbour and town. It has passed to me in the 
 instant of time during which I felt something hard 
 strike my head. Take me home, mother, and take 
 care of me till I can make it out. 
 
 251 
 
THE SURVIVAL OF THE FITTEST 
 
 HE had started life at sixteen on a small farm in 
 Ohio, had won the heart of the farmer s wife by 
 putting new life and ambition into the disabled old 
 clock during her absence, but had incurred the wrath 
 of the farmer himself by taking apart the threshing- 
 machine, which showed signs of wear, and which he 
 had sincere intentions of mending. A sound beating 
 caused a vacancy on that farm, and filled a corner of 
 a freight-car with a small boy bound for the West. 
 He never reached that ever-receding section. Hunger 
 brought him out at a small town and compelled him 
 to beg; and finding this means of livelihood easier 
 than working, he continued at it, and developed in a 
 few years into as picturesque a tramp as ever 
 enlivened rural scenery. 
 
 He was not vicious, only ignorant and lazy. Some 
 times, to relieve ennui, he would work for a few days, 
 but only at labour that brought him into contact with 
 machinery. He was a born mechanic ; but this 
 expresses all. He knew by intuition things that 
 successful civil and mechanical engineers would be 
 glad to acquire after years of study, at the same time 
 possessing none of the balance of mind that makes 
 us respectable. He had a bulging forehead, with ears 
 set well back on his head. A phrenologist, examining 
 such a head, would have described it as showing large 
 
 252 
 
The Survival of the Fittest 
 
 imitation, hope, form, and weight ; abnormally large 
 causality, comparison, and constructiveness; but sadly 
 deficient in continuity, combativeness, destructiveness, 
 firmness, acquisitiveness, and approbativeness. With 
 a little energy he could easily have earned at least the 
 title of Jack of all trades, but even this was beyond 
 him. In short, he was a happy-go-lucky vagabond, 
 with an ever-increasing repugnance for work, and an 
 ever-decreasing community of interest with hisfellow- 
 men. JL 
 
 He wandered to New York, and stood with a crowd 
 watching the ascent of a large safe, which men were 
 hoisting by means of a waggon-winch to the upper 
 story of a high building. A man stood on the safe, 
 guiding it. People passed underneath, indifferent to 
 danger, and no one but our tramp noticed a slight 
 movement of the rope, just above the waggon, followed 
 by a quick untwisting as a strand parted. 
 
 Stop ! he yelled, the rope s breaking. 
 
 Vast heaving ! roared the foreman. Stand from 
 under ! Jump for a window, Tom jump for your life ! 
 
 People scattered to the middle of the street. Among 
 the first were the foreman and his men. The man on 
 the safe frantically climbed the tackle to reach a 
 window just above him. The two remaining strands 
 of the rope quivered under the strain, becoming fuzzy 
 with the ends of yarns that had broken and were 
 forced outward, while the broken strand showed its 
 spiral bulging six feet above the place of fracture. 
 Then the tattered idler on the sidewalk made some 
 very quick movements. Seizing the end of the rope 
 from the waggon, he pulled about eight feet twice 
 around a near-by lamp-post, over and under itself, 
 thus hitching it. Jumping to the waggon with the 
 end, he tied it to the straining rope as high up as he 
 could reach, then sprang to the ground a second 
 before the overworked remaining strands snapped. 
 
 253 
 
The Survival 
 
 Down came the heavy safe a foot or so, and the 
 reinforced rope sang under the sudden tension, the 
 man above barely held his grip on the tackle, and the 
 lamp-post was bent and nearly wrenched from the 
 ground. But the hitch did not slip. 
 
 The foreman and his helpers came back with some 
 new ideas. The rope or, rather, two ropes knotted 
 together now led straight to the doubtful lamp-post. 
 Hitching another rope above the first knot, they hove 
 on it, bringing the strain on the winch, and the 
 danger was over. 
 
 Where is that tramp ? asked the foreman. * He s 
 a sailor. I ve been there, and know the signs. He s 
 passed a clove hitch on the lamp-post and a rolling 
 hitch on the fall. I ll give him a job. 
 
 But the tramp had gone. 
 
 At Buffalo he fired a stationary engine, on trial, 
 but displayed so keen an interest in the engineer s 
 own work as to lose the job. Later, inspired, perhaps, 
 by a fleeting self-respect based on his late usefulness, 
 he secured another, this time as engineer. The em 
 ployer was suspicious at first of the ragged, unlicensed 
 aspirant ; but he talked glibly of grate surface, eccen 
 trics, valves, pistons, etc. (words picked up in his last 
 service). No other applicant appeared, and the engine 
 must run, so he was accepted. 
 
 Instinct, mechanical and other, is inherited know 
 ledge, and the fact that a correct estimate of the 
 tensile strength of red-hot boiler iron in contact with 
 cold water did not form a part of this man s genius 
 was due, no doubt, to the antecedent fact that none 
 of his ancestors had experimented in this line. Indeed, 
 few who so experiment live long enough to transmit 
 to descendants, in the form of instinct, this acquired 
 knowledge. On the second day he sailed over two 
 fences amid a cloud of hot steam, while the shattered 
 boiler went the other way. 
 
 254 
 
of the Fittest 
 
 He was picked up scalded, disfigured, and uncon 
 scious, and sent to the hospital, from which, in three 
 months, he emerged blind in one eye, minus an ear, 
 and with his whole right side shortened and weakened. 
 On a stormy December morning, hungry and cold, he 
 shipped deck-hand on a steam-barge, the mate taking 
 on the forlorn applicant for the same reason that had 
 influenced his last employer : no other appeared. He 
 scrubbed decks, scoured paint-work, and helped trim 
 sail as the shifts of wind demanded, while the steam- 
 barge dragged herself and two tow-barges up the lake. 
 He soon understood the proper angle that sails should 
 bear to the wind, and the resultant force exerted on 
 the vessel. He helped the second mate splice a rope, 
 and knew how before the job was half done. He had 
 seen the rudder at the dock, and now explained to his 
 fellows the action of the slanting blade on the water. 
 Scrubbing paint on the bridge, he heard the captain 
 say to the mate : Pull up the centre-board ; she 
 gripes ; and being sent to help, asked the good- 
 natured second mate what the centre-board was for, 
 and what griping meant. The second mate explained : 
 the centre-board was a movable blade in the bottom 
 to keep the boat from drifting sideways, and griping 
 was the carrying of the rudder to one side from the 
 uneven pressure of the wind. 
 
 By the time he had assimilated this nautical lore 
 the boat had reached Point Pelee, near the head of 
 the lake, and here, as though misfortune were still 
 camped on his trail, he fell overboard. 
 
 Man overboard rouster ! yelled the second mate. 
 
 Which one ? asked the captain, as he rang the 
 stopping-bells. 
 
 * The blind one the cripple. 
 
 Let the tow pick him up! growled the captain, 
 ringing full speed to the engine. But, as a salve to 
 his conscience, he blew a few short barks of the 
 
 255 
 
The Survival 
 
 whistle, to signify to the barges behind to Look 
 out. 
 
 Our hero, fathoms deep, as he thought, barely 
 escaped a blow from the propeller as he was sucked 
 under the quarter, and came to the surface half the 
 length of the tow-line behind. Being no swimmer, 
 he gasped once and sank; then arose, only to be 
 beaten under by the bow of the on-coming tow-barge. 
 When next he appeared, it was behind the first tow- 
 barge, and the second, approaching at a seven-knot 
 speed, was almost upon him. 
 
 Help! he gurgled. But no one heard or saw 
 him, although a profane but humane second mate 
 was perilling his position and blackening his soul 
 with loud, blasphemous objurgations to the barges, 
 and vows of legal vengeance on his superior, the 
 captain, as he peered aft from the steamer s taffrail. 
 
 Just as his head disappeared, the outer bobstay of 
 the second barge struck him on the shoulder. He 
 grasped it. Tearing through the water made it hard 
 work to pull himself up, but he got his head out, and 
 rested; then, inch by inch, he dragged his crippled 
 body up the pair of iron chains to the bowsprit, and 
 thence in-board to the deck, on to which he tumbled 
 an unconscious heap. He was carried below, stripped, 
 and brought to with much rubbing and copious 
 draughts of whisky; but not being used to this 
 stimulant lately, he relapsed into a stupor. 
 
 That night it snowed so hard that the men steering 
 the tow-barges could not see the steam-barge ahead, 
 and the captains and mates took turns at standing in 
 the bows, and, guided by the trend of the tow-lines, 
 bellowing Starboard ! Port ! and Steady ! to the 
 helmsmen. The captain of the steam-barge, too sure 
 of his position to anchor, yet not sure enough to go 
 ahead without sounding, slowed down, took a cast of 
 the lead, and went on, without being able to see 
 
 256 
 
of the Fittest 
 
 through the snow the position the second of the tow- 
 barges had reached. She had crept up on the first 
 barge, but had given her a wide berth ; and now, 
 when the tow-line tautened, it bore at right angles 
 to port. 
 
 Hard a-starboard ! sang out the mate of the 
 second barge as he saw the hawser lift from the water. 
 
 It was his last speech. The terrific strain broke 
 the iron casting on the bow through which the hawser 
 led, and the mate, standing on the port cat-head, was 
 struck in the legs by the sweeping recoil of the heavy 
 line, and swept overboard. He did not rise. Eopes 
 were thrown out, but the relentless power at the other 
 end of the tow-line carried them away from the spot ; 
 the loudest pair of lungs could not penetrate that 
 thick snow, and the mate was given up. 
 
 The old captain, much shaken, took the mate s 
 place at the bow, noting, despite his horror, that 
 the port jib-boom guys were torn from their fastenings 
 by the tow-line, which now bore a little forward of the 
 beam, showing that she was straightening up to her 
 course. The tow-post creaked and groaned with the 
 unfamiliar side-strain, and she came around, slacken 
 ing the tow-line with the increased speed acquired in 
 the wide sweep. Then she swung the other way, the 
 strength of the helmsman, a mere boy, not being 
 sufficient to steady her. 
 
 As the tow-line tautened, leading now off to star 
 board, though the brand-new rope held, the rotten 
 tow-post, weakened by its wrenching, did not. Break 
 ing at the deck, it crashed over the bow with the line, 
 catching and carrying away the port bowsprit shroud 
 as it went ; and with her momentum and the wheel 
 still to port, the barge swung around, lost headway, 
 and, pointing her nose to the north shore, drifted to 
 leeward, with all the rigging of the bowsprit and jib- 
 boom gone on the port, or weather, side. 
 
 257 s 
 
The Survival 
 
 The much-wrought-up old skipper, who had barely 
 escaped the flying tow-post, sprang to the rail, and 
 screamed his curses on the steam-barge. Think 
 I m goin t anchor, do ye ? anchor in this passage, 
 an wait for you t take a night s sleep at th dock 
 fore ye come back ? Not much ! Ye ve carried way 
 my head- gear, but I ll find a better place, f I run t 
 Buffalo ! How s her head ? This to the wheel. 
 
 Nor by east, sir. 
 
 Bring her east by south, half south, when she ll 
 come. Give her the stay-sail, boys ! 
 
 The sail was loosed, hoisted half up, and lost in 
 the thick maze to leeward as a sudden puff of the 
 increasing gale blew it to pieces. 
 
 With decks awash as the seas boarded the weather- 
 rail and spilled out of the lee scuppers, and in that 
 blinding snow-storm, the flakes of which were attain 
 ing a needle-like sharpness, the gray old skipper was 
 more than ever resolved not to anchor in a dangerous 
 channel, and his men began rigging preventer guys to 
 the bowsprit, for head-sail must be carried to bring 
 her before the wind. The boy was told to drop the 
 wheel and lend a hand. The darky cook was called 
 and sent out on the bowsprit with the rest, as they 
 endeavoured to hitch a heavy hawser around the end 
 of the spar. It was icy cold. The waves made 
 hungry licks at their legs as they worked, and their 
 fingers were numb, and the ropes and spar slippery 
 with ice ; but they completed the task, and had started 
 in when one of those vicious Lake Erie seas, the first of 
 the three which travel in company, lifted up to wind 
 ward, a gray, nearly perpendicular wall. 
 
 Look out ! cried the captain ; * hang on ! 
 
 When the sea had passed over and the captain had 
 straightened up, he saw one dark object clinging to 
 the icy gear under the spar, while from the blanket of 
 snow to leeward came gurgling cries. Then, as the 
 
 258 
 
of the Fittest 
 
 next sea crashed over the bows, he heard : Help, 
 cappen ! as the cook also was swept away. 
 
 Unable to save them, and trembling with horror, 
 the old man crawled aft and went below, where he 
 buried his head in his hands on the cabin table. 
 Great God ! he groaned, all gone, every man and 
 all in half an hour ! 
 
 He sat there, wet, lonely and miserable, until day 
 light shone in on him ; then he remembered the deck 
 hand in the forecastle, and started forward to arouse 
 him, if he too had not died in the night. 
 
 It had stopped snowing, but the snow was replaced 
 by the drift from the sea, which, freezing where it 
 fell, had already encased deck, rail and rigging in a 
 coating of ice. It was slippery walking, or, rather, 
 creeping, for an old man of seventy, with the craft 
 rolling both rails under, and it is no wonder that an 
 incoming sea swept his legs from under him, bringing 
 him down with a thud on the icy corner of the fore- 
 hatch. 
 
 He groaned with the sharp pain in his back, but 
 could not rise. His legs were useless ; so he hitched 
 and crawled as best he could, and in time reached the 
 forecastle-hatch, where he called called until his 
 voice grew weak, then gasped his prayer for help, 
 while the man below slept on, and did not waken even 
 when the masts crashed over the side. 
 
 It was high noon when the sleeper opened his eyes 
 on strange quarters, with an icy ladder leading up 
 to a square of light, blocked by a gray face fringed 
 with icicles, on which death had stamped the agony 
 of its owner s last moments. He shivered with cold 
 as he turned out. His clothes, nearly dried by the 
 now cold stove, hung on the pawl-post, and he dressed 
 himself, with many upward glances at the gruesome 
 thing above. Then he mounted the slippery ladder, 
 shutting his eyes as he neared the staring face, and 
 
 259 s 2 
 
The Survival 
 
 not opening them until he had climbed over it and 
 floundered on to the deck beside the body, covered 
 now, like the deck itself, with a frozen mantle. 
 
 He made his way aft, and called down the cabin- 
 door : Anyone here ? 
 
 Hearing no sound, he descended, and opened all the 
 state-room doors, but found no one. His hunger 
 brought him to the galley, where he partook of some 
 food, and then returned to the deck. It was a situa 
 tion to appal the heart of even an experienced sailor. 
 The vessel had once been a fine three-masted schooner, 
 degraded later to a barge by sending down her top 
 masts. Now she was a dismantled hulk, with ice on 
 deck making a curve from the rails in-board to where 
 it raised in hummocks over the hatches. And on this 
 dismantled, ice-bound hulk, rolling in the trough of 
 the sea, somewhere on Lake Erie, he was alone with 
 a dead man. This much he knew. Ahead and astern 
 were two lines of blue, which he took for land. But 
 no sail appeared to cheer him. As he stood in the 
 companion-way, sheltered from the furious blast, the 
 memory of his fall from the steam-barge, his being 
 swept under the first tow-barge, and his painful climb 
 up the bobstays of the other, came back to him. But 
 he remembered nothing more. 
 
 * Somethin orful s happened, he muttered. S pose 
 everyone got washed off or mebbe they re in the 
 boat ; that s gone ! Wonder what killed the man 
 forrard. I ve got t do somethinV 
 
 He noticed the thumping of the spars alongside, 
 where they lay held by the rigging, and concluded to 
 cut them away ; they might knock a hole in her. An 
 axe alone would do it. He looked at the frozen deck. 
 Axes suggest wood -piles, and wood -piles suggest 
 stoves. This inductive reasoning brought him to the 
 galley, where he found a hatchet ; and with this he 
 chopped at lanyards and running-gear until the spars 
 
 260 
 
of the Fittest 
 
 drifted away. The jib-boom had snapped at the bow 
 sprit end, but the bowsprit still stood ; otherwise he 
 would have had to cut through a chain bowsprit- 
 shroud a thing practically impossible. 
 
 He saved as much of the running-rigging as he 
 could not that he knew why ; he had no use for it 
 as yet ; he obeyed an instinct, the same that impelled 
 him to put the hatchet carefully away in an oval- 
 shaped hole in the after part of the cabin. As it was 
 daytime, he felt no nervous fears of the dead man 
 forward, and crawled around the deck, inspecting 
 what was left of her fittings. He examined a hum 
 mock of ice amidships, showing a black skeleton of 
 iron. Centre-board winch, he said. Another pillar 
 of ice enclosed the capstan ; the steam-barge had 
 carried these things. Creeping aft, he looked over 
 the stern and discovered the rudder, ice-covered, but 
 free in its movements, which a sailor would have 
 known by the spinning of the wheel. 
 
 He was now wet with the drift and chilled through. 
 He went below, and in the mate s room found dry 
 clothing, with which he replaced his wet rags. The 
 captain s room furnished a good pair of rubber boots 
 and a suit of oilskins. While here, he noticed a 
 bundle of paper rolls, which he examined. * Maps, 
 he said. He found the chart of Lake Erie, and for 
 the first time in his life valued a much-neglected 
 accomplishment : he could read. 
 
 A cursory glance showed him a long, bag- shaped 
 outline of coast, with Buffalo at one end, and other 
 cities, most of which he had visited, marked on the 
 edges. In one corner was a circle, filled with numerous 
 interlocking stars, which he could not understand. 
 He put the chart away, and, clad in his warm, protec 
 tive clothing, returned to the deck, where he did an 
 hour s hard thinking and experimenting. 
 
 She don t lay even in the holler of the waves, he 
 261 
 
The Survival 
 
 said. Why? He thought of the centre-board. 
 She drifts sideways, an if the board s down it makes 
 a point, kinder, an she d hang on it. If it s forrard 
 o the centre, it ud hold that end to the wind a little. 
 I ll see. 
 
 The rubber boots gave him good sea-legs. He went 
 to the centre-board winch, measured the distance 
 forward and aft with his eye, and returned for the 
 hatchet. As he took it from the hole in the cabin, he 
 saw a curious, whirling disk inside, which, when it 
 had ceased its gyrations, resembled the diagram on 
 the chart. He had never seen or heard of a compass, 
 but the letters E, S, and W on the edge of the disk, 
 and the fact that it retained a steady position inde 
 pendent of the yaws of the vessel, were data for later 
 deductions. 
 
 He chopped the ice from the winch, and roughened 
 it under his feet, then, little by little, with his feeble 
 strength, hoisted the centre-board. A man can lift a 
 great weight with a worm-geared winch. Going aft, 
 he proved his reasoning ; she lay plumb in the trough 
 of the sea. 
 
 He chopped the ice from two large, octagon-shaped 
 boxes, abaft the stumps of the fore and main masts, 
 and looked in. They contained heavy hawsers, tackles, 
 etc. He noticed the heavy, cross-plank construction 
 of the covers as he replaced them, A barrel was 
 lashed to the fife-rail around the stump of the fore 
 mast. Chopping into it, he found salt, and remarked 
 that where he spilled some on deck the ice crackled 
 and melted to water, which did not freeze again. 
 Then he went aft, and puzzled over the action of 
 the compass, which, not being governed by purely 
 mechanical laws, was beyond his comprehension. 
 But he divined its scope and utility, and out of his 
 environment of screaming wind and heaving water 
 evolved a plan of salvation apparently so wild, so 
 
 262 
 
of the Fittest 
 
 baseless and hopeless, that no sane seafaring man, 
 hampered by experience, would have considered it for 
 an instant. But this man was not a sailor ; he was a 
 mechanic, heaven-born. 
 
 * She s driftin bout as fast as a man kin walk, he 
 mused. If she d point with the wind, she d move 
 faster. How kin I make her ? More pressure on one 
 end or less on the other ; a sail forrard ud do. 
 
 The foremast had broken about ten feet from the 
 deck, and the boom and gaff, with the foresail furled 
 to them, lay with the jaws in place on the stump and 
 the after-ends frozen fast to the ice in the scuppers. 
 The main and mizzen masts had snapped at the deck, 
 and everything pertaining to them was overboard 
 except what he had saved of the running-rigging. 
 Forward, from the bowsprit end, descended an im 
 mense icicle, the accretion of ice to the jib-stay, 
 broken aloft and hanging down, while on the bowsprit 
 lay the furled jib an elongated cone of ice, a solid 
 mass with the spar. He shrank from attempting to 
 chop loose and set this sail to the stump of the mast, 
 and considered the alternative : less pressure aft ; he 
 could rig a drag. 
 
 His ideas were crystallizing. He searched for and 
 found a well-equipped tool- chest, and spent the rest 
 of the afternoon chopping from the icy deck the ropes 
 he had pulled in coiling them, or, rather, crushing 
 them, in the cabin, where he sprinkled them with salt 
 from the barrel. Then, building a fire in the stove, 
 he cooked and ate his supper, first bringing all the 
 ropes -ends into the galley to dry. 
 
 By the light of the galley-lamp he studied the 
 chart, but could make little of it except that he was 
 somewhere on a line, midway between the shores, 
 which he creased with his thumb-nail, from Buffalo to 
 the head of the lake. If he could get her before the 
 wind and steer, and the wind should shift, he might 
 
 263 
 
The Survival 
 
 make one of the ports on either shore ; and in case 
 the wind held as it was, he could not miss Buffalo, 
 for the compass told him the wind was blowing him 
 there. He schemed and planned until sleepy, then 
 turned in, all standing. 
 
 Morning showed more ice on deck and a slight 
 change to the northward in the wind, which had been 
 due west, but no lessening of its velocity or of the 
 bitter cold. After breakfast he went to work. His 
 ropes were now pliable and the ends dry. With an 
 auger he bored four holes in the rim of one of the 
 heavy box-covers, into which he inserted the ends of 
 ropes, making a bridle such as boys put on their kites. 
 Weighting one side with a heavy piece of iron, he 
 fastened the end of a hawser from the box to the 
 bridle, and pushed the contrivance over the stern, 
 paying out the line as the vessel drifted away from it. 
 When about a hundred feet were out, he made it fast 
 to the quarter-bitt (a strong post), and watched the 
 effect as the line tautened. It certainly did bring the 
 stern to the wind, but not enough to give the craft 
 headway. He rigged the other box-cover as a drag 
 on the other quarter, and had the satisfaction of see 
 ing the craft pay off and go staggering through the 
 water, and though yawing right and left, keep a 
 general direction eastward. He hurrahed his delight, 
 and took the wheel, but found that he could make no 
 improvement in the serpentine wake the barge left 
 behind her. Deeply laden and weighted with ice, 
 she now shipped every sea over the stern, and to 
 escape them he went below, satisfied for the time that 
 she was going somewhere at a fairly good rate. Had 
 he been successful at the wheel, he would have cut 
 away the drags to increase her speed, but he feared 
 to. Could he put sail on her, and increase her speed 
 with the drags still out? The sound of the drag- 
 ropes, straining on the bitts, gave him an idea of 
 
 264 
 
of the Fittest 
 
 power that he could use power beyond the strength 
 of a hundred men. 
 
 Up he came and surveyed the ground, inspecting 
 first the jib. It was covered with six inches of solid 
 ice. It would be too dangerous to climb out there 
 and chop it loose. Besides, when set, it would show 
 little surface, and would only help to keep her be 
 fore the wind. He needed a mast and a larger sail. 
 So he inventoried his material. The furled foresail 
 was there, with a good boom and gaff; the boxes were 
 filled with strong hawsers, and on top of the coils 
 were tackles, small line, and deck-tools ; he had a 
 cabinful of running-gear, and, counting the pulley- 
 blocks in reach, found himself possessed of four large 
 double and three large single blocks, all shackled to 
 their places. With salt, hatchet, and tools he dis 
 connected these and carried them below. 
 
 The forward hawser-box was in his way, and he 
 emptied it, coiling the lines in the cabin. Disdaining 
 to chop it clear of ice, he merely scored a rough 
 groove, knotted a heavy rope to the box, and leading 
 this aft, hitched it to one of the drag-lines with the 
 same knot he had used in New York and slacked 
 away. The surrounding ice crackled, split, and went 
 to pieces as the heavy box bounded from its bed and 
 rolled about the decks. A friendly sea carried it over 
 board, and he cut it adrift. He spliced ropes for 
 tackles and an able seaman could have spliced no 
 better, though, possibly, more quickly ; for sailors are 
 made, not born, like poets and mechanics. He 
 chopped ice and manipulated tackles with the drag 
 for power and by noon had the heavy boom, sail, and 
 gaff on deck, and two holes sunk in the solid bed of 
 ice abaft the stump to receive the jaws when his mast 
 should arise. Salting his work as he left it, he 
 laboured on, perspiring with his efforts, and drenched 
 by the merciless seas which boarded the craft amid- 
 
 265 
 
The Survival 
 
 ships. His clothing stiffened with ice, but he worked 
 with an energy new to him. Was it love of life or 
 love of mechanics that impelled him ? 
 
 Late in the afternoon he first felt hunger, and sur 
 veyed his work before going aft to eat. The sail was 
 cut away and lay on deck a frozen cylinder, lashed 
 to the rail. Not wanting the gaff, he had sped it over 
 the side by clever handling of ropes and drag-lines. 
 The boom lay nearly amidships, with the middle of a 
 brand-new hawser knotted to its after extremity, the 
 ends of which, equally cut to the length of the boom, 
 he had secured to two strong iron rings in the rails, 
 one each side stout shrouds for his new mast. A 
 strong tackle led from the end of the boom to the 
 jagged head of the mast-stump. Another from the 
 same end led to the bows, hooking into the still intact 
 bull s-eye of the broken forestay. The first was to 
 lift his mast until the other could act, which would 
 then complete the work, and, when the mast was up, 
 act as a permanent support from forward a forestay. 
 A single block, with a long rope pulled through, was 
 secured to the under side of the boom, close to the 
 end. Although he might not have named it, this 
 rope was his halyard to hoist his sail. His fertile 
 brain had worked in advance of his crippled body ; he 
 had lost no time in planning the next step. 
 
 After a hurried lunch he studied his drag-line his 
 power. Could he lift that mast with one drag ? He 
 knew nothing of foot-pounds, horse-power, or mechani 
 cal equivalents, but guessed that he could not. So, 
 knotting the ends of both to his last hawser, he threw 
 them overboard, and soon had both drags straining on 
 one rope a doubling of power, but an unseamanlike 
 waste of good Manila. He then led the falls, or 
 hauling parts, of his tackles aft, and, hitching the one 
 he was to use first to the drag-line, slacked out until 
 it tautened. But his mast must go up straight as a 
 
 266 
 
of the Fittest 
 
 jack-knife blade from the handle ; it must not swing ; 
 he needed side-guys to steady it. These he rigged 
 from the end of the boom through two blocks hooked 
 in the rails, thence aft to where he could slack away 
 from two iron belaying-pins. Then he was ready. 
 
 First inspecting everything, he paid out carefully, 
 and had the satisfaction of seeing the boom lift amid 
 a shower of crackling ice from the tackle, staggering 
 its way upward, and jerking violently on the guy- 
 ropes as it swayed back and forth. But they soon 
 tautened, and, leading the drag-line across the deck, 
 he slackened these guys alternately, paying out the 
 drags as he moved back and forth, thus keeping the 
 spar comparatively steady. When the tackle had 
 reached the slippery angle of forty-five degrees, he 
 fastened the fall of the long bow-tackle to the drag 
 line, and soon got the weight of the boom on this. 
 Then, cutting the other way, he paid out roundly, 
 fearing the guys would part from the merciless tugs 
 they received as the spar, nearly on end, thrashed 
 from side to side. But they held nobly. Soon the 
 heavy shrouds tautened, and the new mast, describing 
 a few jerky circles against the gray sky, settled itself, 
 a rigid mass with the hull, held by its icy socket at 
 the deck, aft by two hawsers to the rail, and forward 
 by a strong four-part tackle to the bow. But he must 
 secure this forestay, now depending on the uncertain 
 tension of the drag-line. By the time he had done so 
 darkness had almost arrived, and the ghastly mound 
 on deck, looking ghastlier in the lessening light, sent 
 him aft for the night. First, however, he salted his 
 halyard, coiled on the fife-rail, and threw the rest of 
 the salt on the frozen cylinder which he was to trans 
 form to a sail in the morning. Then, dropping the 
 tackles and deck-tools down the stairs, he looked 
 around the shortened horizon before following them. 
 
 The aspect had not changed. The same black-and- 
 267 
 
The Survival 
 
 gray waste of wind -driven cloud and foam - crested 
 sea met his eye ; and yet he fancied the darker line 
 of land to the southward looked larger. He went 
 below, wet, benumbed, and exhausted, but feeling 
 within him the exultation of a victor and the strange 
 stirrings of a newly-aroused manhood. Dry clothes 
 and supper refreshed him a little, and again he studied 
 the chart. Eeaching down the cook s rolling-pin and 
 placing the chart on the floor, he knelt on it. 
 
 * Now, that circle in the corner, he said, * can t 
 mean nothin but to show the way the lake runs. 
 That line on it marked E an W means east an west, 
 an the one crossin it with S at the bottom means 
 south, an t other end must mean north, o course. 
 An that thing in the hole upstairs is marked just the 
 same an allus points the same way wonder why ? 
 Now, le s see. In the mornin I spects she ll be 
 pretty close to that shore. He placed the rolling-pin 
 so that by ranging his eye he struck a line from 
 Buffalo nearly parallel to the south shore, and touch 
 ing it two-thirds of its length from that port. Now, 
 I ll jess guess that in the mornin I ll be somewhere 
 near this line. He rolled his improvised parallel 
 rule ; it would not reach the compass diagram in the 
 corner, and he supplemented it with the edge of the 
 chopping-board, which he placed on the centre of the 
 circle and flush with the rolling-pin. Eight divisions 
 o that circle tween east an north, he mused. This 
 strikes off bout two an a half o them. Two an a 
 half divisions north o the east line. I ll remember. 
 
 His sleep was troubled. All night he chopped ice 
 and poked frozen ropes through blocks too small for 
 them, tied hitches that slipped, and spliced ropes that 
 broke. Once he was up. The mast was still in place, 
 and the drag still kept her before the wind. He could 
 not see the compass, but the wind and sea were un 
 questionably milder. So he turned in again, and 
 
 268 
 
of the Fittest 
 
 aroused at daylight to find himself within two miles 
 of the shore, an angry surf showing, and the wind 
 brisk from the north. But the gale was over. 
 
 The barge was heading straight for the nest of 
 breakers, and he must do something quickly. A few 
 moments of dazed thinking and he was awake and 
 himself. With some small dry rope from the cabin 
 he lashed the forward upper corner of the sail to the 
 foot of the mast. He could not haul it snug to its 
 place, but made it secure. Then with the axe he 
 chopped one of the blocks from the rail, where he 
 had left it, secured it to the mast, and, knotting one 
 end of the halyard into the after upper corner of the 
 sail, he passed the other through this block, and, 
 leading it aft, fastened it to the drag-line, not by a 
 hitch both ropes were icy but by a firm lashing of 
 small line. 
 
 Before paying out to hoist the sail, he took his axe 
 and made mighty dents in the ice which bound it. 
 He chopped, hammered, and pried, until he dared 
 wait no longer ; then he threw off the drag-line turns 
 and chopped again, where most needed, as the sail 
 shook itself loose and arose with a thrashing and 
 crackling that was deafening. 
 
 He was driven away by the hurling pieces of ice, 
 and ran to the drag-line. Taking a turn, he dubiously 
 watched the sail ascend as he slacked out, not know 
 ing as yet how he was to secure the lower part, until 
 he noticed a ring worked into the edge which was just 
 ready to slip over the side out of his reach. Making 
 fast, he ran below, emerging with some small line and 
 his best tackle, one block of which he hooked to this 
 ring, lashing the hook, and the other to the ring-bolt 
 in the starboard rail left vacant by the single block. 
 Hauling taut, he secured the tackle, then, paying out 
 more drag-line, brought the sail up. 
 
 It set beautifully, a picturesque leg-of-mutton above, 
 269 
 
The Survival 
 
 but sadly blocked the deck with the unused portion 
 below. It increased the barge s speed towards the 
 shore, and he took the wheel to throw her around. 
 She would not come ; so, lashing the halyards to the 
 bitts, with some misgivings he cut the drag-line. 
 Then she answered her helm, and soon was clawing 
 off that lee shore as bravely as though carrying a 
 complete equipment of spars, sails, and able seamen. 
 
 He found the course he had selected and held her 
 to it, not steering true, but very well for a novice. 
 When hungry, he dropped the wheel, rushed to the 
 galley, and, coming back with some bread, found her 
 rounding up to the wind. But she paid off when he 
 put the wheel over, and, munching the bread, he 
 steered on, watching for ports on the south shore. 
 He saw no signs that his judgment approved of, how 
 ever ; the wind was freshening and hauling back to 
 its old quarter, and he resolved to go on; he could 
 not miss Buffalo. 
 
 As night came on he reasoned out the necessity of 
 light on the compass, and, investigating, found two 
 lamps one burned out, the other full approachable 
 from the inside of the cabin. He lighted the full one, 
 and, returning to the wheel, found the vessel in the 
 trough of the sea and threatening to roll her mast 
 out. But it held, and he brought her back to the 
 course, resolved not to leave the wheel again. 
 
 Darkness descended, and he steered by compass 
 alone, as the wind freshened to a gale, and by mid 
 night to a hurricane that at times flattened the seas 
 to a level. His lame side ached ; his blind eye, in 
 flamed with cold, smarted as though torn with needles; 
 but he bravely made his course good. The seas poured 
 over and drenched him, and ice formed on his back 
 and shoulders, descending as a curtain from the rim 
 of his sou -wester. Working the wheel made his 
 arms and breast perspire, while his feet smarted, 
 
 270 
 
of the Fittest 
 
 burned, and grew numb as the water in his boots con 
 gealed. All but engulfed in a liquid world, he felt the 
 torture of thirst until he bit ice from his sleeve. He 
 talked to and about himself. 
 
 As the night wore on, the frozen dead man left his 
 icy bed and flitted about in the darkness beckoning. 
 The wailing of the wind in the rigging of his jury- 
 mast became the winter song of the kitchen-chimney 
 in his childhood home, where his mother had taught 
 him to read. She came to him at times, during the 
 lulls, when the seas would rise, and the terrible aching 
 fatigue of arms and back would wring from him hoarse 
 groans of agony ; and she would stand beside him, 
 pointing to the page of his book. But the printing 
 on the page before him was the markings of a brightly 
 illuminated compass-card, and her ringer would seem 
 to be a dancing, wavering lubber s point that swung 
 unsteadily far to the right, far to the left and 
 would not be still. Then would come a squall of the 
 hurricane, when the seas would flatten to a milky 
 froth, and the chimney-song rise to a continuous 
 screaming sound. But during these moments mother 
 and dead man would go ; for, braced heavily against 
 the nearly immovable wheel, his tortured mind and 
 body obtained momentary respite, and sanity came 
 back. 
 
 A bright light flared up away on the port bow and 
 went out. It appeared again and again. What was 
 it ? He did not know, but it cheered him. It passed 
 astern, and another appeared to starboard. And so 
 he steered on through the night, on the course he 
 had chosen and remembered : north-east by east, 
 half east. 
 
 A sleepy life-saver, patrolling the beach, saw a 
 curious craft approaching port in the gray of the 
 morning, making wild, zigzag yaws, as though unde 
 cided which shore to strike. He awakened his com- 
 
 271 
 
The Survival 
 
 rades and then the nearest tug-captain, and having 
 nothing better to do, and with plenty of time, turned 
 out all the tugs moored on his side of the river. Six 
 puffing, snorting, high-pressure tugs ranged up along 
 side the shapeless iceberg floundering into port, their 
 captains roaring out requests for a line to the dis 
 hevelled creature at the wheel. A vacant stare and a 
 backward wave of the arm were the only answer. 
 
 Gaily and noisily the procession passed up Buffalo 
 Eiver, and it was only after the leading craft had torn 
 three vessels from their moorings after passing the 
 foot of Main Street, black with cheering men, and 
 through the bridge, barely swung in time to save it 
 that the tugmen managed to get aboard and take 
 lines. The barge was stopped just in time to save a 
 canal-boat that lay in her way from a fatal ramming. 
 
 She was moored to the dock, where crowds poured 
 aboard and passed comments. And her helmsman 
 and navigator where was he ? In the galley, lighting 
 a fire ; he had earned his breakfast and wanted it. 
 Newspaper men sought him and asked questions, 
 which he answered between mouthfuls, mainly by a 
 simple Dunno. One brought him a looking-glass, 
 into which he looked wonderingly; his lips were 
 shrunken and drawn, his face wrinkled, and his hair, 
 which had been dark, was white as the crests of the 
 seas he had conquered. 
 
 The captain of a wind-bound liner appeared and 
 interviewed him. He s not a sailor, he reported later; 
 but he has accomplished the greatest feat of pure 
 seamanship I ever heard of. I met that craft at the 
 head of the lake three days ago. She must have been 
 dismasted that night in the first of the blow. He 
 told me how he found himself alone, rigged drags for 
 power, put a jury-mast in her, and struck off a course 
 with a rolling-pin, and clawed her off a lee-shore, and 
 sailed her down this lake in the wildest hurricane 
 
 272 
 
of the Fittest 
 
 we ve ever had here. Yes, sir, it s wonderful; but 
 it s possible. And it s a salvage job, too; he ll get 
 several thousand dollars. 
 
 But though every reporter on every paper in Buffalo 
 hunted for him high and low, he did not put in a 
 claim for salvage. 
 
 That night a south-bound freight train carried a 
 wrinkled, white-haired, one-eyed tramp, bound for 
 sunnier climes, where ice and snow were unknown. 
 
 273 
 
A CREATURE OF CIRCUMSTANCE 
 
 HE was Scotch from crown to toe, Scotch in his name, 
 character, and virtues vices he had none, unless the 
 national acquisitiveness can be so characterized and 
 Scotch, above all, in his religion. The Scotch Presby- 
 terianism is considerably bluer than the rest of the 
 brand, and of the bluest of the blue was the theology 
 of Angus MacNab. 
 
 As a boy he had won prizes at Sabbath schools ; he 
 had walked through youth in the straight and narrow 
 way, and on coming to manhood tall, loose- jointed, 
 and solemn found himself with two definite incentives 
 to future action : an ambition to acquire wealth and a 
 dream of saving souls. Parsons were poor, and 
 money -making ungodly, and for awhile the two 
 conflicting passions prevented his choosing a career ; 
 but he learned, in time, of the possibilities in mis 
 sionary work among the heathen, and with much 
 prayer and pious thought prepared himself and his 
 way toward this calling. 
 
 An outward-bound ship took him, primed with zeal 
 and commissions, as far towards heathendom as the 
 Eiver Plate, where an easterly gale wrecked the ship 
 and drowned half her people. His baggage and 
 credentials were lost, and the enforced companionship 
 with seamen in the open air until they reached the 
 settlements roughened him and prepared him to work 
 
 274 
 
A Creature of Circumstance 
 
 his way as a foremast hand to Buenos Ayres. Here 
 he found no occupation congenial to his creed the 
 Eoman Catholic Church attending to the needs of 
 souls and he shipped before the mast for the Gold 
 Coast, where, he was told, there were missionaries. 
 This trip determined his life. With his small endow 
 ment of spirituality reduced to intolerant dogmatism, 
 and his clothing to tarry rags, he presented so un 
 promising a front to the local missionaries as to fail 
 him of encouragement, or even their efforts towards 
 his discharge from the ship, and he finished the 
 voyage, shipping again in the same craft, again and 
 again in others wandering around the world, and 
 drifting with each voyage farther and farther from 
 the calling he aspired to, while he acquired money 
 and knowledge in the one forced upon him. 
 
 At thirty he was a competent chief mate and 
 navigator with a master s certificate and a bank 
 account ; at forty, a shrewd, successful commander, 
 with three or four bank accounts, and a reputation 
 for piety and integrity that attracted to him all that 
 was God-fearing in the seafaring element at the home 
 ports, and repelled the opposite. Indeed, no irre 
 ligious sailor would, or could, make the second voyage 
 with him, and at the time this story opens in the 
 early forties he possessed a following of thirty hard- 
 headed, Sabbath-keeping, money-saving Scots, who 
 had signed with him, and sworn by him figuratively 
 for years, and who mustered at his call into an 
 office at Cape Town, where they formed a stock com 
 pany, subscribing their savings and services, and 
 electing Captain MacNab, the heaviest subscriber, 
 president, and his officers directors which company 
 bought, for a song, a fast-sailing barque that had 
 lately climbed high and dry on the beach, and been 
 abandoned to the underwriters. 
 
 Hard work and good seamanship floated her, and 
 275 T 2 
 
A Creature 
 
 after a few repairs and internal changes she departed 
 with a new name and empty hold for the Guinea 
 Coast, where she took on an unsavoury cargo the 
 purchase of which used up the last shilling of the 
 company s capital and sailed for a Brazilian market. 
 
 At daylight of the seventh day out Captain MacNab 
 squared away to the southward, sent up stunsails, and 
 a silent prayer to Heaven that the way of the ungodly 
 might perish, and called his first mate, Sandy Ander 
 son ; for, charging across his stern from east to west 
 was a white brig, yacht -like in her symmetrical 
 beauty, and showing, as she heeled to the fresh 
 northerly breeze, a shining incline of yellow deck, on 
 which were twelve guns and a Long Tom, while a 
 mile astern of her was a pursuing topsail-schooner, 
 black, but equally yacht-like, with a long pennant at 
 the main-truck, the tricolour at the gaff end, and on 
 her forecastle a vicious bow-chaser, which occasionally 
 spoke. 
 
 It ll be ane o the ten-gun schooners the French 
 ha sent doon to police the coast, I m thinkin , 
 Sandy, said Captain MacNab, as he took his glass off 
 the pursuer. Send that the brig holds him to it till 
 we re oot o range. 
 
 Ay, answered the mate as he reached for the 
 glass ; we can run awa from any schooner afloat wi 
 the wind free e en a French bottom ; but yon brig ll 
 be meat for the froggies ; she s makin but twa feet to 
 the schooner s three save us ! what s that ? 
 
 1 A shell, Sandy a shell, a shell ! Oh, the in 
 humanity o man the inhumanity ! To drop a shell 
 on a cargo o human creatur s. 
 
 An explosion had occurred on the deck of the brig 
 a few seconds after a heavier puff of smoke had left 
 the schooner and coincident with the louder boom of 
 a shell-gun. The brig s main tack and main staysail 
 sheet were evidently cut, for these sails thrashed in 
 
 276 
 
of Circumstance 
 
 the wind and were taken in, while the schooner, 
 which had luffed three points or more to fire this shot 
 from a bow port, paid off to resume the chase, which 
 now gave promise of a speedy end. 
 
 But the brig was observed to luff, though with no 
 backing of yards to indicate surrender. Around she 
 came, until her weather leaches trembled, and lay 
 steady at about forty-five degrees from her course, 
 while a cluster of men could be seen working at the 
 Long-Tom amidships. 
 
 She s hittin back hittin back ! murmured Sandy 
 excitedly, as he handed the glass to his superior. 
 Losh, but it s a hangin matter ! Confiscation s 
 bad enough, but they ll hang they ll hang for 
 piracy ! 
 
 The brig heeled visibly under the recoil of the gun, 
 and a roar like a clap of thunder came down the wind. 
 Double-shotted, thought Captain MacNab, as he 
 heard it. Chain-shot ! he exclaimed, as he saw the 
 jib- topsail, fore- topsail and top-gallantsail, and main 
 gaff-topsail of the schooner sink to leeward in a 
 tangle, while two shattered stumps showed above 
 the cross-trees. The brig paid off, set her mainsail 
 and staysail, and sailed on. The race was indeed 
 ended. 
 
 The schooner s rigging became black with men 
 securing the wreck, and she wore around to an 
 easterly course, while the brig kept on to the west 
 ward and the barque to the southward. At noon, 
 with his quarrelling neighbours reduced to specks on 
 the horizon, Captain MacNab hauled back to his 
 course, and said to his mate : Twas a fair good 
 shot, Sandy, but what is she ? Chain-shot is ob 
 solete, an all men-o -war paint black. An would a 
 war-brig of any country run from a French schooner ? 
 France has na quarrel wi nations. Is she a slaver, 
 Sandy, or ha the days o piracy come back ? 
 
 277 
 
A Creature 
 
 Sandy could not answer, but next morning the 
 question was answered by the brig herself. At mid 
 night, though the weather was fine, the light sails 
 had been furled ; for the coming day was Sunday, 
 sacred to Captain MacNab, to be remembered re 
 ligiously in meditation and prayer, undisturbed by 
 the trimming and shortening of sail. Biding along 
 on a course which nothing but threatening disaster 
 was to change before the following midnight, the 
 barque found herself, as the gray dawn stole over 
 the sea, a quarter-mile to leeward of a shadowy 
 fabric, which, as the tropic day opened up in all its 
 sudden brightness, resolved itself into the white brig, 
 graceful and menacing, humming down with yards 
 nearly square, ports opened, and guns run out. 
 
 Save us ! muttered the mate, who had the deck. 
 Put your wheel up, mon ! he said to the helmsman ; 
 then, in a roar : Call all hands forrard there ! Loose 
 royals an to -gallantsa ls, fore and aft ! While the 
 men sprang to obey the orders, the mate tapped 
 on the captain s window and hoisted the British 
 ensign. 
 
 As though in defiance of the red emblem of mari 
 time supremacy, a bow gun belched forth, and sent a 
 solid shot ricochetting ahead of the barque ; then a 
 trumpet voice from the brig called out : Put your 
 wheel down, and back your main-topsail ! 
 
 Captain MacNab reached the deck in time to hear 
 this, and growled between his teeth : We ll see ye 
 further first, ye children o the de il ! Gi her the 
 canvas, Sandy. Steady your wheel there, he added ; 
 dead fore the wind keep her. Weather braces, m 
 laddies. Square in. Lord forgi yon Philistines- 
 Lord forgi em f they fire on us wi three hunder 
 misguided an unprepared creatur s in the hold ! 
 
 But the brig fired no more. She squared in her 
 yards and followed the barque, sending up stunsails 
 
 278 
 
of Circumstance 
 
 with all the quickness and precision of a Government 
 craft. Then began a race, which, had the barque 
 been in anything else but Sunday dress, might, other 
 things equal, have resulted in her favour ; but it 
 takes a little time, even with a frantic captain 
 shouting, to loose and set top-gallantsails and royals, 
 and before the first was hoisted the brig had the wind 
 of her quarry, and was gaining half a length a minute. 
 Up she came, hand-over-hand, showing, as she lifted 
 to the seas, occasional glimpses of bright copper be 
 tween the white bow and whiter turmoil of water 
 beneath, every sail in the pyramid of canvas standing 
 out in rigid convexity, every rope taut and in place 
 a beautiful picture to any but anxious Scotchmen. 
 As she drew near, Captain MacNab made out with 
 his glass clusters of men on her forecastle-deck and 
 in her fore-chains men with red shirts, nondescript 
 caps, black faces, and gleaming teeth and eyeballs. 
 Amidships, a gang worked a fly-wheel pump, and 
 aft, near the helmsman, stood a slim-built young 
 fellow, black-faced and red-shirted like the rest. 
 
 Niggers, Sandy niggers ! groaned the captain. 
 1 What d ye want aboord that brig ? he roared. 
 Keep awa from me sheer off ! 
 
 There was no answer, though the young fellow 
 near the wheel sang out something in French to 
 the crew as the brig drew up on the barque s star 
 board quarter. Wild thoughts flitted through Captain 
 MacNab s mind at this juncture thoughts of putting 
 his wheel hard a-port as the white bow lapped his 
 stern, and carrying away the brig s jib-boom and 
 head-gear with his mizzen-mast, then escaping the 
 crippled pursuer by bracing sharp up on the star 
 board tack. But he looked at the black guns and 
 Long Tom ; he had seen the brig s gunnery and he 
 hesitated. 
 
 The brig, answering a slight twist of her wheel, 
 279 
 
A Creature 
 
 drew in, and a scowling negro on the rail reached out 
 and cut the hauling part of Captain MacNab s main 
 brace, which unrove with a whir of sheaves, and 
 trailed astern as the yard canted forward. The brig s 
 stunsails came in like folding wings, men who had 
 sprung aloft rigged in the booms, men on deck braced 
 the yards to port, and the white craft slid forward 
 with lessening headway the negro cutting the 
 barque s upper braces as he came to them and 
 with skilfully-thrown grappling hooks was checked, 
 stopped, and fastened, with her nose abreast of the 
 barque s mainmast, and her fore-royal stay lifting 
 the foot-rope of the swinging main-yard. Captain 
 MacNab, wrathful but helpless, gave no orders to his 
 unarmed crew; the helmsman steered faithfully on 
 before the wind as last directed, and the two craft, 
 locked together, charged along, while a black horde, 
 to the number of forty, crowded over the rail, each 
 red waist encircled by a broad belt studded with little 
 brass cylinders each belt supporting, besides a long 
 knife, a brace of heavy pistols, with revolving chambers, 
 curiously contrived and newly invented Colt re 
 volvers. 
 
 No resistance was offered by the Scotch crew, and 
 no violence, as yet, by the blacks. They clustered 
 amidships, while their commander, who had leisurely 
 followed them, walked aft and up the quarter-deck 
 steps. 
 
 He was about thirty, armed and dressed like his 
 crew, and with equally gleaming eyes ; but beyond 
 this gleam of the eyes righting eyes they were and 
 a deep scowl on the forehead, his features were of 
 almost Caucasian regularity and refinement. It was 
 the face of a dreamer a brooder. Such faces are 
 seen in forlorn hopes, in the sanctums of turbulent 
 weeklies, in legislative minorities, reform pulpits, 
 lunatic asylums, and political prisons. They and 
 
 280 
 
of Circumstance 
 
 the minds behind are of the future, and are decidedly 
 incongruous and displeasing in an age of the present. 
 
 1 Which is the captain of this barque ? he asked, 
 in purest English, as his eyes wandered from Captain 
 MacNab to his mate and back. 
 
 Myself, Angus MacNab ; an this is my mate, 
 Alexander Anderson ; an this is the barque Dundee, 
 o Cape Town. An noo will ye tell us wha ye are, 
 an what s your flag, an why ye fire on an boord a 
 British craft on the high seas in this arbitrary 
 manner ? 
 
 All in good time. I doubt, however, that an 
 appeal to your Government will avail you. You have 
 slaves aboard. 
 
 An how d ye ken so much ? 
 
 I judged of your conscience yesterday when you 
 fled from French powder ; to-day I judge by the 
 odour surrounding your craft. Open those hatches, 
 men ! he called to his crew. 
 
 In a trice this was done, the blacks shouldering the 
 white men out of their way ; then all, white and 
 black, drew away from the openings to avoid the 
 stench which, with the sound of groaning, came 
 from the decks beneath. 
 
 The brig captain stepped down, peered into the 
 hold, and called out something in an unknown tongue. 
 After a moment s silence outcries began under the 
 hatch, extending along the tween-deck, descending to 
 the hold below, increasing in force and volume as the 
 word was passed along, until the clamour became a 
 humming, inarticulate roar. It was a tribute to liberty 
 which all could comprehend. 
 
 With an additional sparkle to his eyes and a deeper 
 scowl on his forehead, the young negro came aft, 
 followed by a few of his men, one of whom went to 
 the wheel, motioning the Scot in charge away with a 
 significant and effective flourish of his long knife. 
 
 281 
 
A Creature 
 
 How many ? demanded the negro captain tersely. 
 
 * Three hunder. 
 
 Shackled in pairs or in gangs ? 
 
 * In gangs o ten. 
 
 A poor plan, said the negro, in a tone of mingled 
 scorn and bitterness ; they live longer when shackled 
 in pairs. I will thank you for the keys of the 
 shackles. 
 
 An will ye loose yon irresponsible heathen? asked 
 Captain MacNab excitedly. 
 
 I will, to the last soul, and lock you and your 
 hellish crew in their places. I give you a choice to 
 hand me the keys and submit quietly, or be tossed 
 overboard in the next five minutes. 
 
 An what then if we submit? asked Captain 
 MacNab, his solemn face working. 
 
 Ask that of the people you meant to sell into 
 slavery. They will decide your fate on the Cameroon 
 Coast. 
 
 When you have been forced by unkind Fate to stifle 
 for half a lifetime all the instincts and spiritual 
 yearnings of your better nature to limit the soarings 
 of your soul to the fog of a mercenary career ; when 
 at last Fate has relented to a degree, and permits a 
 compromise by which devotion to God and Mammon 
 need not conflict, whereby, in lieu of enlightening 
 the heathen in his darkness, you may take him out of 
 his darkness to the enlightenment of civilized life, and 
 at the same time that you obtain credit in heaven for 
 the saving of his soul realize a handsome profit on 
 the sale of his body, such a pair of alternatives 
 instant death and the mercy of liberated slaves as 
 was offered by this misguided obstructionist is, to say 
 the least, discouraging. The savings of twenty years 
 and the approval of Captain MacNab s long-accusing 
 conscience (for he was genuinely sincere) were con 
 cerned in the success of this voyage. He looked at 
 
 282 
 
of Circumstance 
 
 his anxious crew, from whom he was now separated 
 by the blacks, at his stolid first officer, at a distant 
 rack of handspikes potent in argument into the 
 bore of a long six-shooter, and over it at the deadly, 
 gleaming eyes of the black captain ; and, lastly, he 
 looked up to the heavens. 
 
 Thy will be done, Lord ! he groaned. * Gi him 
 the keys, Mr. Anderson. The mate nodded, and 
 descending to his room, returned with a bunch of 
 keys, which he handed over. 
 
 * An if ye ha na objections, ye maun tell us what 
 flag we surrender to, an wha ye are ? continued the 
 captain, as the pistol was tucked into the other s belt. 
 
 I have no objections whatever. You surrender to 
 the brig La Guillotine, which sails under no flag. 
 Her captain is Paul Arcand, who owes allegiance to 
 no country, and to no cause but that of liberty. For 
 this cause La Guillotine works, like her namesake of 
 old, but having no present quarrel with men-of-war, 
 she avoids them, and only strikes in self-defence. Is 
 your position plain to you ? 
 
 It s plain that we re i the hands of a bloody- 
 minded pirate ! retorted Captain MacNab, in a tone 
 of disgust and aversion. I take it ye re ane o these 
 intriguin free niggers o Hayti, educated in France 
 only to be kicked oot o your ain country. 
 
 * My position depends on the view-point, rejoined 
 Captain Arcand quietly. No country on earth is free 
 enough to own me. Oblige me by stepping down on 
 the main-deck and joining your men. But in spite 
 of this definition of his freedom, the half-drawing of 
 his pistol and the ugly look of his face proved that 
 Captain Arcand was not emancipated past the reach of 
 an insult. 
 
 Fifteen minutes later Captain MacNab and Sandy, 
 fastened near the end of a thirty-foot chain, were 
 watching the shackling on to this and two other chains 
 
 283 
 
A Creature 
 
 of the complaining crew, while the clean upper deck 
 was filling with successive arrivals from below of 
 naked, filthy, emaciated and half-dead creatures of 
 both sexes. Some were lifted to the deck, others 
 could climb and walk assisting the weaker ; and all, 
 strong or weak, young or old, cried and rejoiced, and 
 grovelled persistently at the feet of their red-shirted 
 deliverers, whose pitying eyes only gleamed now as 
 they rested on the white men. 
 
 We re i the hands o the Lord, Sandy, said 
 Captain MacNab devoutly, as he looked at the rusty 
 bracelet encircling his wrist. We ma trust to Him. 
 
 We re i the hands o robbers an thieves, rejoined 
 Sandy irreverently. What s to be the final disposee- 
 tion of us ? 
 
 Landed wi the niggers, I judge. To think of it, 
 Sandy to think of it ! Three thoosan poonds warth 
 o niggers ta en from us ta en from us to be cast back 
 i their ignorance an darkness to be robbed o the 
 blessed tidings. Oh, the sinfu ness the sinfu ness of 
 man ! Captain MacNab groaned in anguish of soul. 
 
 When the last miserable wretch was above the deck, 
 and a half-dozen corpses were laid out in the scuppers, 
 the three gangs of prisoners were conducted to the 
 lower hold, where each chain was stretched out and 
 the ends shackled to the stanchions ; then, with the 
 clank of the never-resting fly-wheel pump ringing in 
 their ears through the walls of the two craft, and the 
 unintelligible orders of Captain Arcand and the shouts 
 of the liberated blacks mocking them, the hatches 
 were closed, and in darkness and filth they were left 
 to themselves. 
 
 To those unacquainted with the horrors of a slaver s 
 hold it is enough to say without gruesome details 
 that nearly half the blacks die in transit, and that the 
 profits of the voyage are made on the survivors. This 
 large mortality is due, no doubt, to the impoverishing 
 
 284 
 
of Circumstance 
 
 treatment endured on the march to the coast and to 
 the initial weak physical endowment of the negro race. 
 The thirty-one strong, hardy Scotchmen immured in 
 the stinking hold did not die not one of them. They 
 suffered in another way. 
 
 The first day was used up in complainings and 
 criticisms of Captain MacNab s management, ending 
 at last, towards evening, by the lifting of the hatch 
 and lowering into the hold of three tubs of corn-mush 
 and three buckets of water. Men followed, and placing 
 the buckets at the ends of each line, carried the tubs 
 along and dumped out the mush on the filthy ballast- 
 flooring in more or less even piles. 
 
 Those who could eat did so, grabbing the food with 
 disengaged right hand, and by passing the buckets 
 along, all but those at the farther end secured a drink 
 of water. The cheated ones had a grievance and 
 voiced it, though without avail, as the hatch was 
 again closed on them. But next day the buckets were 
 started at the other ends of the lines and the grievance 
 shared. In this manner, as the two vessels sailed 
 eastward, and the closed-up hold became a hot inferno 
 under the tropical sun, they were fed and watered once 
 a day on the leavings of the slaves, who, free to come 
 and go as they pleased, slept and ate in the tween- 
 deck above them. 
 
 On the second day some prayed, some yelled for 
 fresh air, some sang hymns and crooned, others cursed 
 and swore to the scandal of the patient captain and 
 a few fought, one-handed, over the chain. Through 
 the third day there was less praying and singing, more 
 profanity and fighting, and a great deal of screaming 
 for fresh air. On the next day there was some 
 laughter horrid to hear more singing, very little 
 praying, and less intelligent shouting. And thus, 
 day by day, the symptoms aggravated until two weeks 
 had passed by; then, shortly after the sounds of 
 
 285 
 
A Creature 
 
 shortening sail from the upper deck, and the renewed 
 throbbing of that never-resting pump alongside, the 
 hatch was lifted again, and guarded and controlled by 
 as many red-shirted men as could clap on to ropes led 
 through the end-rings of the chains, they were dragged 
 up the ladder and fastened to the rail, where the 
 crowding black slaves peered at them and drew away, 
 shuddering. 
 
 Thirty-one strong, healthy, level-headed men had 
 gone into that hold two weeks before. Thirty-one 
 lean, unclean wrecks came out parodies on manhood 
 partly covered by shreds of clothing, mottled with 
 black and blue spots, streaked with angry red scratches 
 and tearings of finger-nails, scarred on hands and 
 arms with teeth-marks all, with one exception, 
 laughing, hissing, chattering, red-eyed wild beasts 
 stark, raving mad. The exception was Captain 
 MacNab. His strong, abiding faith had saved his 
 reason, though his hair was as white as the topsides 
 of La Guillotine. 
 
 Cleansing his poisoned lungs with gasping inhala 
 tions of the sweet, fresh air, and closing his eyes 
 against the blinding sunlight, he lifted his haggard 
 face to the heavens. God o mercy ! he sobbed ; 
 * I thank Ye for this reprieve. God o vengeance, 
 gi me light, an strength a little longer an 
 courage ! 
 
 The two craft had been grounded, side by side, the 
 brig inshore, near the left bank of a muddy river. 
 About a hundred yards distant on the marshy beach 
 was high-water mark, from which the water was now 
 receding. Down-stream the ebbing tide split upon 
 the river-bar of a high, cone-shaped island, past which 
 the divided stream rushed to the open sea, visible in 
 blue patches over the undergrowth of the low shores. 
 Inland the marshy river-banks merged into a hum- 
 rnocky, wooded slope which stretched up to a distant 
 
 286 
 
of Circumstance 
 
 mountain-range ; and sprinkled here and there among 
 the trees were clusters of mud-brown huts, or small 
 villages, from which a population was coming black 
 and naked, but active, and apparently well-fed. 
 
 Aloft some of the red-shirted crew were stowing the 
 sails of both vessels, while others coiled up gear below. 
 On the deck of the barque was the horde of released 
 slaves, huddled as far from the white men as they 
 could get; aboard the brig the pump-gang still worked 
 wearily ; and aft, leaning against the quarter-rail, was 
 Captain Arcand, conversing with one of his men and 
 watching the three lines of chained maniacs. 
 
 With his sunken eyes glowing like smouldering 
 coals, Captain MacNab reached out his free arm in 
 his direction, and called hoarsely : An are ye satisfied 
 the noo, ye monster o ineequity ? 
 
 Captain Arcand walked forward, climbed over the 
 rails, and proceeded slowly down the lines, peering 
 into each distorted face shuddering palpably at the 
 outbreak evoked by his near presence and stopped 
 in front of Captain MacNab. 
 
 * No, he said quietly, I am not satisfied. This is 
 the result of my mate, who sailed the barque in, mis 
 understanding my directions. I am in favour of a 
 clean, healthy vengeance on slave-traders but not 
 this. He looked regretfully at the gibbering Sandy, 
 who was trying to reach him. * I had destined you 
 and your men, he went on, to the same fate that 
 you had arranged for my people. You were to take 
 their places in the hold, receive the same fare and 
 treatment including daily exercise on deck and, 
 later, were to become the property of my colony 
 ashore here, every member of which I have rescued 
 from slavery. Ashore, you were to be killed, worked 
 or whipped to death, or allowed to run and die in the 
 swamps, as your masters determined. This latter 
 will probably be the fate of your men, as my people, 
 
 287 
 
A Creature 
 
 in their native state, will have no dealings with the 
 insane. And, on the whole, he added, his face 
 hardening, * their punishment may be lighter than 
 yours. 
 
 An your punishment, ye child o hell, is to come! 
 growled Captain MacNab in impotent rage. It ll 
 be better, I m thinkin , could ye so balance the account 
 that ye loose my daft laddies an let them rend ye 
 limb from limb. 
 
 The other turned away with a shrug of the shoulders 
 and returned to the brig, while Captain MacNab cooled 
 down a little in the endeavour to soothe the agitated 
 Sandy, and in the reflection that in the seven days of 
 the voyage he had not once exercised the slaves. 
 
 Three hours later the pump had ceased its clank 
 ing, and the outpourings of the huts had walked on 
 the slant of mud to the brig, welcomed noisily the 
 new recruits, and departed with them after a subdued 
 and awe-struck inspection of the white men. Captain 
 Arcand and his crew were over his side examining the 
 hull of the brig, and the prisoners, under the influence 
 of the fresh air and a bountiful supply of mush and 
 possibly from the absence of the blacks had quieted 
 down and sunk to the deck, each manacled left wrist 
 raised to the taut chain. Some were sleeping. Cap 
 tain MacNab looked sorrowfully down the line, and 
 muttered : Sleep, laddies, sleep ! I ha led ye into 
 this. An what 11 craze a sensitive white man kills a 
 nigger. Did I right ? I meant right. Lord, forgi e 
 me if I was wrong ! 
 
 His terrible ordeal had brought doubts to Captain 
 MacNab s mind as to the civilizing and humanizing 
 influence of the slave trade ; but his communings with 
 conscience were soon interrupted by the approach of 
 Captain Arcand and his men. 
 
 I find, said the negro captain to him, that my 
 brig is badly damaged by the explosion of a shell 
 
 288 
 
of Circumstance 
 
 down the hatchway. She is old, and slower than the 
 barque ; so, instead of burning your craft, as is my 
 rule with prizes, I shall tranship my stores and guns 
 and go to sea in her. And as it will take the people 
 ashore some time to decide what to do with you and 
 your men, you will meanwhile occupy the deck of the 
 brig. 
 
 Outcries and violence began afresh as the madmen 
 were pitilessly hauled over the rails and moored to the 
 inshore bulwarks of the brig ; but, as Captain MacNab 
 noticed, they subsided when the blacks left them. 
 
 The nauseous task of cleaning up the slaver s hold 
 need not be described beyond saying that it required 
 the labour of the entire colony ashore in the burn 
 ing of wood and lime-rock in the hills and trans 
 porting the wood-ash and lime to the barque, and the 
 labour of the black crew in removing, cleansing, and 
 replacing ballast, and scouring and whitewashing the 
 hold for ten days before Captain Arcand decided that 
 the barque was a fit habitation for human beings. 
 Then began the transfer of the stores and dunnage, 
 and the cutting of ports in the bulwarks. The guns 
 were left to the last, because, on account of the in 
 creased draught such weights would give the barque, 
 she would need to float before taking them on. During 
 this time the demented crew had eaten, slept, and 
 occasionally raved at the black workers on the deck 
 of the brig ; and Captain MacNab had become soul- 
 weary of the unsettled question of their fate ; for the 
 natives, apparently coming to no decision in the 
 matter, avoided the brig s deck as they would a place 
 of contagion, and the others, beyond feeding them, 
 paid them no attention whatever. 
 
 All at last being done but the transfer of the arma 
 ment, the barque was kedged off at high tide, and 
 with spring-lines to the now sunken brig and taut 
 cables to anchors up stream and down, she was shored 
 
 289 u 
 
A Creature 
 
 at the ends of the fore and main yards, sent down for 
 the purpose, while preventer-lifts were rigged to the 
 main-yard of the barque ; seamanlike manoeuvres 
 these, which Captain MacNab professionally com 
 mended. Then they hooked a strong tackle from the 
 brig s top-masthead and another from the barque s 
 mainyard-arm to the heavy Long Tom, and were about 
 to heave away, when a man aloft sang out something 
 in the French patois used by the negro crew. Captain 
 Arcand sprang into the rigging with a glass, and from 
 the topmast cross-trees directed it seaward for a 
 moment ; then, slinging it over his shoulder by its 
 strap, he slid to the deck on the backstay, and called 
 out order after order to his men, while Captain MacNab 
 looked on in wonder and his unfortunate crew in in 
 creasing excitement at the effect produced. 
 
 The men aboard the brig unhooked the yard-arm 
 tackle and threw the block overboard, then ran along 
 the shores to the barque and joined their hurrying 
 shipmates as they raced about the deck, out forward 
 and up aloft, loosing and hoisting all the fore-and-aft 
 canvas, slipping first the down-stream and then the 
 up-stream cable, casting off the spar-lashings allow 
 ing the ends of the shores to drop overboard and 
 finally the spring-lines to the brig. There was a 
 brisk breeze down stream, and the barque, leaning 
 gently to port, swung around, and under stay-sails, 
 spanker, and jibs, headed for the southern inlet, her 
 square sails dropping as fast as the crew could loose 
 them. 
 
 Losh, but the scoondrel s a seaman! muttered 
 Captain MacNab. * Not a hitch or a blunder, an he s 
 awa in five minutes ; but what s the occasion ? 
 
 A bullet sang by his head. He barely heard the 
 report above the screeching chatter of his fellow- 
 prisoners, but saw, however, a thinning cloud filtering 
 through the barque s mizzen-rigging, while below it 
 
 290 
 
of Circumstance 
 
 was Captain Arcand ; resting his long revolver on the 
 quarter-rail, about to fire again. A second puff of 
 smoke arose before Captain MacNab could move, and 
 Sandy s crazed laughter ended with the sickening 
 chug of the bullet as it sped through his brain. 
 He fell to the deck, and the captain, though he had 
 no doubt that he himself was the target, felt such an 
 increment of horror to his already overshocked and 
 benumbed sensibilities as to make him entirely reck 
 less. 
 
 Fire awa , ye devil s dog! he roared, standing up 
 to full height and shaking his fist. * Fire awa an 
 finish the job, ye killer o dafties. A fusillade of 
 bullets from the black crew answered this, but all 
 flew wide, and in a few moments they were out of 
 pistol range ; then, in a burst of rage and grief, 
 Captain MacNab apostrophized the dead mate. Ye 
 were a good man, Sandy, he said, an a good friend, 
 an a good officer ; an , Sandy, though I ha felt doots 
 o the integrity of our ain position, I am past doots o 
 the falsity of his. He is marked for the vengeance o 
 the Lord ; for I, that ha seen him, an suffered by 
 him, ha been spared my sanity an memory/ 
 
 By the time the barque had entered the head of the 
 channel, the reason of the sudden antagonism was 
 apparent. An upper corner of a square sail appeared 
 over the northern slope of the island, then the whole 
 sail, with part of another below, and a gaff-topsail 
 behind all patched with new canvas and mounted 
 on top -masts whose bright straw-colour indicated 
 their recent acquaintance with carpenters tools ; and 
 Captain MacNab did not need to see the rest of the 
 fabric the lower sails and glistening black hull to 
 recognise the French schooner that had chased the 
 brig. She was beating up the North Channel against 
 the young ebb, and the outgoing barque, charging 
 down the other channel with all sail spread, was in a 
 
 291 u 2 
 
A Creature 
 
 position to avoid observation for some time, as the 
 high cone of the island would hide either craft from 
 the deck of the other. 
 
 If the schooner saw the barque, she paid no attention 
 to her, but, with long legs and short ones, reached up 
 the river and skimmed over towards the brig on the 
 last tack, her tricolour flying, her crew at quarters, 
 ports open and guns run out, and in each fore-chains 
 men heaving the lead. As she came within hail, an 
 officer on her quarter-deck shrieked out in French, 
 which Captain MacNab did not understand ; but, 
 divining the portent of the hail, he ripped off a 
 fragment of his one-time white shirt that had escaped 
 Sandy s clutches, waved it, shook the chain up and 
 down, and pointed to the barque, now under stunsails 
 just disappearing behind the island. The brig lay 
 on her port bilge, and the whole deck, with its 
 manacled occupants, was visible from the schooner. 
 A few orders were given; she luffed, lost headway, 
 and dropped an anchor about a hundred feet away ; 
 then, as she settled back on the cable, her blue- 
 jacketed crew, without starting halyard, sheet, or 
 brace, lowered four boats, into which they tumbled, 
 each man armed with cutlass and pistol. 
 
 Fifteen minutes later, Captain MacNab was explain 
 ing matters to a group of French officers through the 
 medium of one who understood English, while a 
 carpenter s mate filed at the bolt of his shackle (the 
 keys were in the barque), and his men declaimed at 
 the line of blue -jackets. The officers were much 
 interested in the account of the colony ashore, and 
 laughed, somewhat unsteadily, at the horrid spectacle 
 lined out on the deck. 
 
 It is what you call it? ze poetree of justice, is 
 it not, said the interpreter, zat you take ze place of 
 ze slaves? But it is horreeble horreeble ! 
 
 Captain MacNab made no response, and after a 
 292 
 
of Circumstance 
 
 short conference with the others the officer said: 
 We haf come for fresh vegetebel for yams for 
 any sing. We are long time on ze coast our men 
 get scurvy. We find no vegetebel where we get our 
 top-mast we come here. We haf already report zis 
 pirate brig, and get ordare to capture and bring ze 
 crew to St. Louis. We find you. We take you up ze 
 coast to St. Louis, and on ze way we put you, ze 
 commandare, on parole ; but your men ah ! your 
 men he glanced down the line we mus keep 
 your men prisonare. 
 
 Ay, mun, answered Captain MacNab, as he shook 
 his wrist out of the divided shackle ; we can clear 
 oursel s o the charge o piracy, an slave - tradin 
 canna be brought home to us. But will ye no pursue 
 yon barque ? There s the pirates ye want. Lay her 
 alongside, loose my laddies an gi us arms, an we ll 
 get the de ils an our barquey. 
 
 What was logical or practical in this proposition 
 was ignored by the French officers. They had accom 
 plished something, and perhaps wanted to return to 
 civilization ; but they acknowledged Captain MacNab s 
 claim on the brig in lieu of his barque, and, beyond 
 spiking the guns, did her no harm ; and, to aid him 
 in any future adjudication of his claim, they also 
 good-naturedly gave him the latitude, which he 
 remembered. 
 
 The body of the mate was taken ashore and buried, 
 and the grieving captain offered a hurried but heart- 
 spoken prayer over the grave ; while the others, still 
 chained, were given a washing- down with the deck- 
 hose which, in their way, they seemed to enjoy 
 and conducted to the schooner s tween-deck; then, 
 after the return from the landing up-shore of a well- 
 laden provision-boat, the anchor was tripped, and 
 they sailed down the channel, making out, as they 
 opened up the broad Atlantic, a small speck on the 
 
 293 
 
A Creature 
 
 western horizon, which before dusk was out of 
 sight. 
 
 A long passage it was across the gulf and up the 
 coast to St. Louis, and before it ended the last shackle 
 was filed from the tranquillized prisoners, who, dressed 
 in the working ducks of the French navy, were allowed 
 to walk the deck, free of restraint and duty, though 
 nominally prisoners accused of piracy. At Captain 
 MacNab s request, the English-speaking of the French 
 crew made no reference in their hearing to the cause 
 of their trouble, or to even the negro race ; and once, 
 after the sudden and violent relapse of three the 
 only ones awake early in the morning of a wash-day, 
 which Captain MacNab traced directly to the sight of 
 a line of red under-shirts hung up to dry, the decree 
 was issued from the quarter-deck that red under-shirts 
 were not to be worn or displayed while the prisoners 
 were on board. 
 
 The three soon recovered ; the physical condition 
 of all became much improved ; and, though not what 
 could be called sane men lacking even a natural 
 curiosity as to what had happened they were tract 
 able, and, with few exceptions, gave no promise of 
 further violence of temper or action. 
 
 They entered the Senegal, sailed up the river, and 
 about nightfall anchored off the island city of St. Louis, 
 where, with French exuberance of spirit, the sea-worn 
 officers and crew went ashore, leaving their pirates in 
 charge of a small anchor-watch. The apathetic Scots 
 lounged about the deck, looking at the lights of the 
 town and the native craft darting to and fro in the 
 half-darkness, and might, in an hour or so, have 
 turned in for the night, had not one of the native 
 craft a bumboat dropped alongside, and the occu 
 pants climbed aboard. After the manner of bumboat- 
 men they came dressed up each in a single garment. 
 Two wore soldier coats minus the tails, one a woman s 
 
 294 
 
of Circumstance 
 
 print dress, the rest bandanas. The colour of all was 
 red, and pandemonium broke loose. 
 
 Twenty-nine maniacs, shouting and screeching, 
 charged on the poor blacks, who leaped overboard to 
 save themselves. Captain MacNab, talking to the 
 quartermaster in charge, heard the uproar and sprang 
 forward to quiet it, but was helplessly caught in the 
 howling mob and borne forward to the bow, where 
 two French sailors ran out on the jib-boom, and, 
 being hot pressed, dropped and swam. 
 
 Back they came, bearing their captain, and on the 
 way gathered up the cook and his mate, and the 
 carpenter and the officers servants, who had come 
 from below to see what was the matter, and who, after 
 some rough handling, in which their clothing was 
 torn from their bodies, and most of their hair from 
 their heads, only escaped death by risking it in the 
 shark-infested river. The last Frenchman aboard, 
 the quartermaster, followed, and the schooner was in 
 the hands of lunatics. For a matter of ten minutes 
 they busied themselves in undressing, yelling the 
 while, and where buttons were obstinate the garment 
 suffered ; then a naked master-spirit of them slipped 
 the cable, the schooner dropped down with the ebb, 
 and Captain Angus McNab arose to the situation. 
 
 Tis the act of God, he muttered. * I am to carry 
 oot His wark. I am to be a destrawin angel o the 
 Lord. Loose fawrs l an jibs/ he added, in a roar. 
 
 They answered and obeyed, the instinct of obedience 
 overtopping their insanity. The mainsail and fore- 
 topsail followed, then the light sails, and with Captain 
 MacNab at the wheel and the naked, screaming crew 
 flitting about the deck and rigging, the floating bedlam 
 crossed the bar and went to sea. 
 
 I ve the latitude, said the captain, an the longi 
 tude is the coast of Africa. Praised be the name o 
 the Lord ! 
 
 295 
 
A Creature 
 
 Crazy or sane, these men were sailors, and obeyed 
 orders when given in a tone of authority ; but it was 
 three days before Captain MacNab dared leave the 
 deck or attempt to guide them into other tasks than 
 handling sail. By that time they were quiet enough 
 to sleep and take turns at cooking. He chose a mate 
 and divided the watches ; then, as they sailed to the 
 southward, impressed on their unsteady minds the 
 wisdom of practice at the guns. His own experience 
 embraced a voyage in a man-of-war, and some of the 
 men had also worn the blue. He made these men 
 gun-captains. 
 
 In a week they could run them out and in, and go 
 through the motions of swabbing, loading, aiming, 
 and firing. When they became violent, he isolated 
 and soothed them ; when lazy or indifferent, he 
 excited them by cautious reminiscence. They wore 
 no clothes nor needed them in the tropical weather 
 slept and ate when and where they pleased, fought 
 one another occasionally, practised at cutlass-drill 
 with ofttimes bloody effect and, as they sailed across 
 the Gulf of Guinea, with powder and solid shot and 
 shell. Everything was done to arouse their com- 
 bativeness, nothing to improve their minds or morals. 
 
 Captain MacNab continued the log-book, thus keep 
 ing the day of the month, and with the officers 
 sextants and a French almanac, in which figures, if 
 not words, were understandable, worked out the 
 latitude as he needed it, and one day sailed into the 
 river with the island at its mouth, up the north 
 channel and across to the sunken brig, where he 
 looked at the gunless yellow deck, then put to sea. 
 
 The de ils ha come for their guns an drilled the 
 spikes, no doot, he said ; an I m thinkin it ll be a 
 sea-fight yard-arm to yard-arm. Send that I raise 
 her to windward. The barque s best before it, but the 
 schooner s best close-hauled. 
 
 296 
 
of Circumstance 
 
 And to windward the barque was when he finally 
 raised her. After a month s cruise in the neigh 
 bourhood, during which he astonished several slave- 
 trading barque captains by chasing, then inconsistently 
 dropping them, he was blown far to sea by an easterly 
 gale, and on his return, close-hauled on the skirts of 
 the faint trade-wind, sailed one midnight into a fog- 
 bank, which, dissolving at noon of the next day, re 
 vealed the barque he was looking for heading south 
 east on the other tack, and about five miles ahead. 
 
 The black schooner was of too distinct a type of 
 craft to fail of being recognised by a man who had 
 disabled her once and fled from her twice, and Captain 
 MacNab was surprised, though agreeably so, to find 
 that the barque made no effort to escape, either by 
 clapping on sail or falling off to a better sailing point. 
 She lay nearly upright, with royals furled, while the 
 schooner put about on her lee- quarter and crept up 
 her lunatic crew excitedly bringing up shot and shell 
 and scattering the contents of arm-chests about the 
 deck. Captain MacNab placed the steadier of them in 
 charge of the powder supply, and his mate, the 
 steadiest of all, at the wheel. 
 
 A white flag arose to the gaff end of the barque, her 
 main-yards were backed, and a boat lowered, which, 
 as it drew near, showed to them the red shirts of the 
 black rowers and a small white flag flying from the 
 stern. 
 
 We ll e en respect the etiquette o war, said Cap 
 tain MacNab, as he went among his men and ad 
 monished them. The fatal colour had nearly rendered 
 them uncontrollable. The boat stopped about twenty 
 yards distant, and Captain Arcand arose to his feet in 
 the stern. 
 
 An ha ye foond a flag to sail under? inquired 
 Captain MacNab, as he glared at him. The other 
 scanned the line of twisted faces and naked shoulders 
 
 297 
 
A Creature 
 
 appearing above the rail in unrepressed astonish 
 ment. 
 
 I had expected, he answered, to meet the officers 
 of a French schooner-of-war, explain my position, and 
 come to a compromise. As I have told you, I have 
 no quarrel with men-of-war. But I did not expect to 
 see you. 
 
 I ha na doot na doot o it. But ye meet a mon 
 an a crew mair efficient to deal wi ye. I want na 
 explanations. Take my boat back, an looer my table 
 cloth fra the gaff o my barque, an do it in ten 
 minutes, or I ll sink ye. 
 
 * What is your wish to fight ? I have no fears of 
 the outcome ; but it would be extremely repugnant to 
 me. I am satisfied that your men are more than 
 punished. 
 
 * Back wi ye ! back wi ye ! roared the enraged 
 Captain MacNab. * Ye re sawtisfied, are ye ? But 
 the vengeance o the Lord is not ! 
 
 The boat was back and up to the davits in less than 
 ten minutes ; then the barque paid off, headed south 
 across the schooner s bow, and set the royals. But 
 the white flag remained at the gaff, and only fluttered 
 down when the ten minutes being up Captain 
 MacNab sent a shot from the bow- chaser, the only 
 gun that would bear, skimming under the bowsprit. 
 
 The Long-Tom amidships on the barque now flashed 
 out, and with the report came a pair of singing, whirl 
 ing chain-shot towards the schooner, cutting away the 
 main-topmast, as had happened before, and depriving 
 them of a useful gaff-topsail. Then Captain Mac- 
 Nab, who had paid off to a nearly parallel course, 
 answered with a broadside, which brought one from 
 the barque, and a running fight began. But, while 
 the guns of the barque were aimed high, to cripple the 
 spars of the pursuer, the lunatic avengers swept the 
 deck of the barque with the iron missiles, and the 
 
 298 
 
of Circumstance 
 
 shells from the forward gun, aimed by the captain 
 himself, did mighty work. It was at close range, and 
 the sea being smooth, he planted those shells where 
 he wished against the plank-sheer or above it. 
 
 Each at the lower edge of a cloud of smoke, the two 
 vessels approached on converging lines, while cannon 
 roared, and maniacs gibbered, and rigging above be 
 came tattered shreds ; then down came the schooner s 
 fore-topmast with the three sails supported by it, and 
 the barque, with still intact canvas, crept ahead. 
 Excepting the schooner s bow-chaser, which still killed 
 men, and the terrible Long Tom on the barque, which 
 still sent its binary messengers hurtling through sail 
 and rigging, the guns of both craft were now silent 
 unable to bear. The schooner, in the wake of the 
 other, was barely moving, but still with steerage-way, 
 and Captain MacNab decided on a change of tactics. 
 
 Up wi the wheel ! he called. Gybe her, an 
 steady when she s abeam. Doon wi all breech-screws, 
 laddies. Aim high an bring doon his spars. They 
 obeyed him in their way, and as the booms swung 
 over and the schooner lay across the wake of the 
 bark, they fired again with elevated muzzles. The 
 result was a shattered main-topgallant mast and a 
 dismounted Long Tom, which was struck by the falling 
 spar. 
 
 Again and again they loaded and fired ; and when 
 the barque s main-topmast sagged forward and fell, 
 taking with it the yard, with some dotting red spots on 
 it, Captain MacNab decided to go on. He paid off, 
 gybed again, and in the face of a fusillade of pistol- 
 shots took the schooner up to the starboard quarter of 
 the barque, exactly as the negro captain had done with 
 his brig. The pistol-shots were directed at him, and 
 at him alone, but beyond a few grazing wounds he 
 was unhurt. Throwing a grappling-hook, he bound 
 the two craft together. 
 
 299 
 
A Creature 
 
 Over ye go, my bairns ! he shouted, as he grabbed 
 a cutlass. Pikes, handspikes, or cutlasses, as ye 
 will. At em i the name of an ootraged God ! 
 
 Wild-eyed, and shrieking from the close proximity 
 of their enemies, the naked men followed the frenzied 
 captain to the corpse-strewn deck of the barque. Then 
 a strange, one-sided struggle took place. Eed-shirted 
 negroes were cut down with pikes and swords, felled 
 with handspikes and stamped upon ; bullets sang 
 around Captain MacNab, and some entered his flesh 
 as he, nearly as insane as his men, fought and en 
 deavoured to reach the negro leader, who was coolly 
 discharging shot after shot at him, only pausing to 
 reload ; but not a crazy Scot was injured. 
 
 In the midst of it all the twanging blare and drone 
 of the pibroch was heard rising over the din ; and 
 marching aft from the forecastle-hatch, where he had 
 fought his way and descended, came the naked mate 
 of the schooner. 
 
 He had remembered his treasure, the companion 
 of many a dog-watch, secured it, and now, mounting 
 the dismounted Long Tom, played, cheerfully and 
 consistently, the wild, inspiriting tunes of his native 
 land, while his countrymen fought and shouted, and 
 black men fell and died. The negroes, bleeding and 
 patient, merely defended themselves by dodging, feint 
 ing, and retreating, and only fired at Captain MacNab 
 at such times as they could do so without hitting 
 the others. 
 
 Cease firing ! suddenly called out Captain Arcand ; 
 he is as mad as the rest. Disarm them if you can, 
 and knock that bagpiper off the gun ! 
 
 The latter was done with the butt-end of a pump- 
 brake and the musician climbed back to the schooner 
 with his precious pipes. Disarming the others was 
 not so easy, and the fight raged hotter from the 
 added offensive action of the blacks. Captain Mac- 
 
 300 
 
of Circumstance 
 
 Nab sprang through a gap in the struggling crowd 
 and lunged at Captain Arcand. 
 
 Mad, be I ? he yelled. Possibly. The lunge 
 was parried, and a sword-combat, offensive on one 
 side, defensive on the other, took place on the bloody 
 deck. The white captain roared inarticulately as he 
 cut and slashed ; the other, cool, impassive, and 
 silent, merely parried though he occasionally pricked 
 the sword-arm of his adversary and retreated. It 
 was English navy cutlass-drill against the French 
 school of fencing, and, in a short time, ended by the 
 white captain s blade flying overboard. He was close 
 to the handspike rack on the mainmast, and seized 
 one. The French school of fencing has no guard for 
 the sweeping blow of such a weapon, and Captain 
 Arcand stretched on the deck, with skull crushed in. 
 
 * Thus saith the Lord ! growled Captain MacNab, 
 as he turned to join the struggle still going on among 
 the men. At this moment the drone of the bagpipes 
 arose from the forecastle-deck of the schooner, where 
 the musician, from the top of the capstan, was again 
 discoursing. But the music he gave them now was 
 soft and low, and it appealed in a different manner to 
 the disordered understanding of these Scotchmen. 
 They swarmed after him, the battle-weary remnant of 
 the negro crew allowing them to go peaceably, and 
 seated themselves on rail, cathead, and bitt, where 
 they listened silently or with weeping or accompanying 
 crooning, according to their several moods, while the 
 quaint melodies of home rose and fell on the tropic 
 air. 
 
 Captain MacNab was alone, surrounded by angry, 
 gleaming-eyed men, who sent bullet after bullet at 
 him. Their leader had fallen, and evidence of 
 Captain MacNab s insanity was conflicting ; for, 
 though his eyes blazed with maniacal fury, as he 
 whirled the handspike and cleared ground, he was 
 
 301 
 
A Creature 
 
 calling to his men, objurgating and beseeching them 
 to come back and finish their work. He gained the 
 rail, bleeding from a score of wounds, climbed aboard 
 the schooner, and with a flourish of his six-foot club 
 sent the bagpipes flying from the arms of the player, 
 over the side. The musician stared vacantly at him 
 and wept. 
 
 Hooray noo, lads ! Follow me back ! Awa wi 
 ye all ! he shouted, and turned to lead them ; but in 
 the brief time of his absence the negroes had dislodged 
 the grappling-hook, and ten feet of open space now 
 separated the two vessels. Dashing the blood from 
 his eyes, Captain MacNab sprang to the main-deck 
 and swabbed, loaded, and depressed the port shell-gun 
 until it pointed at the water-line of the barque. Then 
 he fired. 
 
 A solid shot fired at this angle would have come 
 out through the opposite bilge and made a dangerous 
 leak. A shell would, presumably, have exploded on 
 impact, and made a worse leak at the water-line. 
 This shell produced heavier results. Following the 
 roar of the gun by the merest fraction of a second 
 came a louder roar a crashing, crackling riot of 
 deafening sound containing every note in the chromatic 
 scale. The deck and black sides of the barque amid 
 ships rose and bulged, separating across the planks, 
 and from the interior belched, upward and outward, a 
 burning, blinding sheet of red, which hurled Captain 
 MacNab and his men to the deck, hairless, blistered, 
 and writhing. 
 
 Captain MacNab arose a few moments later, dragged 
 himself painfully to the rail, and looked over at an 
 agitated turmoil of water, on which appeared, at 
 intervals, boxes, small spars, slivers of planking, and 
 an occasional red-shirted body, or part of one. The 
 barque was gone. Broken in half by the explosion of 
 the powder-magazine, she had sunk to the bottom, 
 
 302 
 
of Circumstance 
 
 and of the half-hundred men comprising her crew at 
 the beginning of the fight, not one came to the surface 
 alive. They were martyrs to a chivalry not known in 
 the ethics of civilized warfare. 
 
 Kaising his blood-smeared face and outstretched 
 arms to the blue cloud of smoke above, Captain 
 MacNab groaned hoarsely : Thou didst blow wi 
 Thy wind, the sea covered them ; they sank as lead 
 i the mighty waters. Then he fell to the deck. 
 
 Twenty years later a French corvette appeared off 
 the river with the island at its mouth, and was 
 boarded by a Krooman, who could speak English, 
 but not French, and who offered to pilot the ship 
 in for a consideration. As the captain understood 
 English, he was available, and was engaged. Conning 
 the ship up the North Channel, the pilot pointed out 
 to the captain the remains of a ten-gun battery on 
 the island, which covered all approach from the river 
 above, and explained that a long time ago before he 
 came to the town a black schooner, with torn sails 
 and no topmasts, had come in and grounded on the 
 river bar. Then her crew had unloaded stores and 
 guns, built a house, set fire to the schooner, and lived 
 for many years on yams they grew and fish they 
 caught. Whenever the natives above would come 
 down in their canoes to visit them, they were fired 
 at by one or more of the guns, and they decided at 
 last to let them alone. Long afterward a white-haired 
 old man, scarred and shrivelled of face, had come over 
 from the island, explaining that all his comrades had 
 died ; and this white-haired, gentle old man had lived 
 with the natives many years more, nursing them when 
 sick, and teaching them of the white man s God, until, 
 as the town grew up and traders arrived, he went away 
 to the interior, while those whom he had taught wept 
 and prayed for him. But he never came back, and 
 
 303 
 
A Creature of Circumstance 
 
 while with them had not told them anything of him 
 self, so they did not know to this day who the white 
 men were, or why they had burned their vessel and 
 lived on the island. 
 
 While the ship took in water and yams that day, 
 the captain called his gig and visited the island. He 
 looked closely at the dismounted and half-mired guns, 
 and nodded his head. Then he stood over a square 
 of ground up from the beach, and counted two rows 
 of ten and one of nine headstones. Around this plot 
 was a fence of chain stretched over the trunks of 
 young trees planted at its edge, every three feet of 
 which chain was marked by a shackle. 
 
 * Ze chains bind in death as in life, mused the 
 captain. * Twenty-nine here ; ze mate ovare on ze 
 beach; and ze captain ah, ze captain, he turn 
 missionary to ze natives ! It is ze poetree of justice, 
 but it is horreeble ! 
 
 34 
 
THE DERELICT < NEPTUNE 
 
 ACKOSS the Atlantic Ocean from the Gulf of Guinea to 
 Cape St. Koque moves a great body of water, the Main 
 Equatorial Current, which can be considered the 
 motive power, or mainspring, of the whole Atlantic 
 current system, as it obtains its motion directly from 
 the overacting push of the trade-winds. At Cape 
 St. Eoque this broad current splits into two parts, 
 one turning north, the other south. The northern 
 part contracts, increases its speed, and, passing up 
 the northern coast of South America as the Guiana 
 Current, enters through the Caribbean Sea into the 
 Gulf of Mexico, where it circles around to the north 
 ward ; then, coloured a deep blue from the fine river 
 silt of the Mississippi, and heated from its long 
 surface exposure under a tropical sun to an average 
 temperature of eighty degrees, it emerges into the 
 Florida Channel as the Gulf Stream. 
 
 From here it travels north-east, following the trend 
 of the coastline, until, off Cape Hatteras, it splits into 
 three divisions, one of which, the westernmost, keeps 
 on, to lose its warmth and life in Baffin s Bay. 
 Another impinges on the Hebrides, and is no more 
 recognisable as a current ; and the third, the eastern 
 and largest part of the divided stream, makes a wide 
 sweep to the east and south, enclosing the Azores and 
 the dead water called the Sargasso Sea, then, as the 
 
 305 x 
 
The Derelict Neptune 
 
 African Current, runs down the coast until, just below 
 the Canary Isles, it merges into the Lesser Equatorial 
 Current, which, parallel to the parent stream, and 
 separated from it by a narrow band of backwater, 
 travels west and filters through the West Indies, 
 making puzzling combinations with the tides, and 
 finally bearing so heavily on the young Gulf Stream 
 as to give to it the sharp turn to the northward 
 through the Florida Channel. 
 
 In the South Atlantic the portion of the Main 
 Equatorial Current split off by Cape St. Eoque and 
 directed south leaves the coast at Cape Frio, and at 
 the latitude of the Eiver Plate assumes a due easterly 
 direction, crossing the ocean as the Southern Connect 
 ing Current. At the Cape of Good Hope it meets the 
 cold, north-easterly Cape Horn Current, and with it 
 passes up the coast of Africa to join the Equatorial 
 Current at the starting-point in the Gulf of Guinea, 
 the whole constituting a circulatory system of ocean 
 rivers, of speed value varying from eighteen to ninety 
 miles a day. 
 
 On a bright morning in November, 1894, a curious- 
 looking craft floated into the branch current which, 
 skirting Cuba, flows westward through the Bahama 
 Channel. A man standing on the highest of two 
 points enclosing a small bay near Cape Maisi, after 
 a critical examination through a telescope, disappeared 
 from the rocks, and in a few moments a light boat, 
 of the model used by whalers, emerged from the 
 mouth of the bay, containing this man and another. 
 In the boat also was a coil of rope. 
 
 The one who had inspected the craft from the rocks 
 was a tall young fellow, dressed in flannel shirt and 
 trousers, the latter held in place by a cartridge-belt, 
 such as is used by the American cowboy. To this 
 was hung a heavy revolver. On his head was a 
 broad-brimmed cork helmet, much soiled, and re- 
 
 306 
 
The Derelict Neptune 
 
 sembling in shape the Mexican sombrero. Beneath 
 this headgear was a mass of brown hair, which 
 showed a non-acquaintance with barbers for, perhaps, 
 months, and under this hair a sun-tanned face, lighted 
 by serious gray eyes. The most noticeable feature of 
 this face was the extreme arching of the eyebrows 
 a never-failing index of the highest form of courage. 
 It was a face that would please. The face of the 
 other was equally pleasing in its way. It was red, 
 round, and jolly, with twinkling eyes, the whole 
 borrowing a certain dignity from closely-cut white 
 hair and moustaches. This man was about fifty, 
 dressed and armed like the other. 
 
 * What do you want of pistols, Boston ? he said to 
 the younger man. One might think this an old- 
 fashioned piratical cutting out. 
 
 Oh, I don t know, Doc ! It s best to have them. 
 That hulk may be full of Spaniards, and the whole 
 thing nothing but a trick to draw us out. But she 
 looks like a derelict. I don t see how she got into 
 this channel, unless she drifted up past Cape Maisi 
 from the southward, having come in with the 
 Guiana Current. It s all rocks and shoals to the 
 eastward. 
 
 The boat, under the impulse of their oars, soon 
 passed the fringing reef and came in sight of the 
 strange craft, which lay about a mile east and half 
 a mile off shore. You see, resumed the younger 
 man, called Boston, there s a backwater inside Point 
 Mulas, and if she gets into it she may come ashore 
 right here. 
 
 Where we can loot her. Nice business for a 
 respectable practitioner like me to be engaged in ! 
 Dr. Bryce, of Havana, consorting with Fenians 
 from Canada, exiled German socialists. Cuban horse- 
 thieves who would be hung in a week if they went to 
 Texas, and a long-legged sailor-man who calls himself 
 
 307 X 2 
 
The Derelict Neptune 
 
 a retired naval officer, but who looks like a pirate ; and 
 all shouting for Cuba Libre ! Cuba Libre ! It s plunder 
 you want. 
 
 But none of us ever manufactured dynamite, 
 answered Boston with a grin. How long did they 
 have you in Moro Castle, Doc ? 
 
 Eight months, snapped the doctor, his face cloud 
 ing. Eight months in that rat-hole, with the loss of 
 my property and practice all for devotion to science. 
 I was on the brink of the most important and bene 
 ficent discovery in explosives the world ever dreamed 
 of. Yes, sir, twould have made me famous and 
 stopped all warfare. 
 
 The captain told me this morning that he d heard 
 from Marti, said Boston, after an interval. Good 
 news, he said ; but that s all I learned. Maybe it s 
 from Gomez. If he ll only take hold again, we can 
 chase the Spanish off the island now. Then we ll 
 put some of your stuff under Moro and lift it off the 
 earth. 
 
 In a short time details of the craft ahead, hitherto 
 hidden by distance, began to show. There was no 
 sign of life aboard ; her spars were gone, with the 
 exception of the foremast, broken at the hounds, and 
 she seemed to be about a thousand tons burden, 
 coloured a mixed brown and dingy gray, which, as 
 they grew near, was shown as the action of iron rust 
 on black and lead-coloured paint. Here and there 
 were outlines of painted ports. Under the stump of 
 a shattered bowsprit projected from between bluff 
 bows a weather-worn figure-head representing the 
 god of the sea. Above on the bows were wooden- 
 stocked anchors stowed inboard, and aft on the 
 quarters were iron davits with blocks intact, but no 
 falls. In a few of the dead-eyes in the channels could 
 be seen frayed rope-yarns, rotten with age, and, with 
 the stump of the foremast, the wooden stocks of the 
 
 308 
 
The Derelict c Neptune 
 
 anchors, and the teak-wood rail, of a bleached gray 
 colour. On the round stern, as they pulled under it, 
 they spelled, in raised letters, flecked here and there 
 with discoloured gilt, the name Neptune, of London. 
 Unkempt and forsaken, she had come in from the 
 mysterious sea to tell her story. 
 
 They climbed the channels, fastened the painter, 
 and peered over the rail. There was no one in sight, 
 and they sprang down, finding themselves on a deck 
 that was soft and spongy with time and weather. 
 
 She s an old tub, said Boston, scanning the gray 
 fabric fore and aft one of the first iron ships built, 
 I should think. They housed the crew under the 
 t gallant forecastle. See the doors forward there? 
 And she has a full-decked cabin; that s old style. 
 Hatches are all battened down, but I doubt if this 
 tarpaulin holds water. He stepped on the main 
 hatch, brought his weight on the ball of one foot, and 
 turned around. The canvas crumbled to threads, 
 showing the wood beneath. * Let s go below. If 
 there were any Spaniards here, they d have shown 
 themselves before this. The cabin-doors were latched, 
 but not locked, and they opened them. 
 
 Hold on, said the doctor ; this cabin may have 
 been closed for years, and generated poisonous gases. 
 Open that upper door, Boston. 
 
 Boston ran up the shaky poop-ladder and opened 
 the companion-way above, which let a stream of the 
 fresh morning air and sunshine into the cabin, then, 
 after a moment or two, descended and joined the 
 other, who had entered from the main-deck. They 
 were in an ordinary ship s cabin, surrounded by state 
 rooms, and with the usual swinging lamp and tray ; 
 but the table, chairs and floor were covered with fine 
 dust. 
 
 * Where the deuce do you get so much dust at sea ? 
 coughed the doctor. 
 
 309 
 
The Derelict Neptune 
 
 1 Nobody knows, Doc. Let s hunt for the manifest 
 and the articles. This must have been the skipper s 
 room. They entered the largest state-room, and Boston 
 opened an old-fashioned desk. Among the discoloured 
 documents it contained, he found one and handed it 
 to the doctor. Articles, he said ; look at it. Soon 
 he took out another. * I ve got it ! Now we ll find 
 what she has in her hold, and if it s worth bothering 
 about. 
 
 Great Scott ! exclaimed the doctor ; this paper 
 is dated 1844, fifty years ago. Boston looked over his 
 shoulder. 
 
 That s so ; she signed her crew at Boston, too ! 
 Where has she been all this time ? Let s see this one. 
 
 The manifest was short, and stated that her cargo 
 was 3,000 barrels of lime, 8,000 kids of tallow, and 
 2,500 carboys of acid, 1,700 of which were sulphuric, 
 the rest nitric acid. That cargo won t be much good 
 to us, Doc. I d hoped to find something we could 
 use. Let s find the log-book, and see what happened 
 to her. Boston rummaged what seemed to be the 
 first mate s room. Plenty of duds here, he said; 
 but they re ready to fall to pieces. Here s the log. 
 
 He returned with the book, and, seated at the dusty 
 table, they turned the yellow leaves. " First depar 
 ture, Highland Light, March 10, 1844," read Boston. 
 We ll look in the remarks column. 
 
 Nothing but the ordinary incidents of a voyage were 
 found until they reached the date June 1, where 
 entry was made of the ship being * caught aback, and 
 dismasted off the Cape of Good Hope in a sudden 
 gale. Then followed daily remarks of the south 
 easterly drift of the ship, the extreme cold (which, with 
 the continuance of the bad weather, prevented saving 
 the wreck for jury-masts), and the fact that no sails 
 were sighted. 
 
 June 6 told of her being locked in soft, slushy ice, 
 310 
 
The Derelict Neptune 
 
 and still being pressed southward by the never-ending 
 gale; June 10 said that the ice was hard, and at 
 June 15 was the terrible entry : Fire in the hold. 
 
 On June 16 was entered this: Kept hatches 
 battened down and stopped all air-holes, but the deck 
 is too hot to stand on, and getting hotter. Crew 
 insist on lowering the boats and pulling them north 
 ward over the ice to open water, in hopes of being 
 picked up. Good-bye. In the position columns of 
 this date the latitude was given at 62 44 S. and 
 the longitude as 30 50 E. There were no more 
 entries. 
 
 What tragedy does this tell of ? said the doctor. 
 They left this ship in the ice fifty years ago. Who 
 can tell if they were saved ? 
 
 Who indeed? said Boston. The mate hadn t 
 much hope. He said "Good-bye." But one thing is 
 certain ; we are the first to board her since. I take 
 it she stayed down there in the ice until she drifted 
 around the Pole, and thawed out where she could 
 catch the Cape Horn Current, which took her up to 
 the Hope. Then she came up with the South African 
 Current till she got into the Equatorial drift, then 
 west, and up with the Guiana Current into the Carib 
 bean Sea to the southward of us, and this morning 
 the flood-tide brought her through. It isn t a ques 
 tion of winds ; they re too variable. It s currents, 
 though it may have taken her years to get here. But 
 the surprising part of it is that she hasn t been 
 boarded. Let s look in the hold and see what the fire 
 has done. 
 
 When they boarded the hulk, the sky, with the 
 exception of a filmy haze overhanging the eastern 
 end of the island, was clear. Now, as they emerged 
 from the cabin, this haze had solidified and was coming 
 one of the black and vicious squalls of the West 
 Indian seas. 
 
The Derelict < Neptune 
 
 No man can tell what wind there is in them, 
 remarked Boston as he viewed it. But it s pretty 
 close to the water, and dropping rain. Hold on, there, 
 Doc ! Stay aboard. We couldn t pull ashore in the 
 teeth of it. The doctor had made a spasmodic leap 
 to the rail. If the chains were shackled on, we might 
 drop one of the hooks and hold her ; but it s two 
 hours work for a full crew. 
 
 But we re likely to be blown away, aren t we ? 
 asked the doctor. 
 
 * Not far. I don t think it ll last long. We ll make 
 the boat fast astern and get out of the wet. They 
 did so, and entered the cabin. Soon the squall, 
 coming with a shock like that of a solid blow, struck 
 the hulk broadside to and careened her. From the 
 cabin-door they watched the nearly horizontal rain as 
 it swished across the deck, and listened to the scream 
 ing of the wind, which prevented all conversation. 
 Silently they waited one hour two hours then 
 Boston said : * This is getting serious. It s no squall. 
 If it wasn t so late in the season, I d call it a hurricane. 
 I m going on deck. 
 
 He climbed the companionway stairs to the poop, 
 and shut the scuttle behind him for the rain was 
 flooding the cabin then looked around. The shore 
 and horizon were hidden by a dense wall of gray, 
 which seemed not a hundred feet distant. From to 
 windward this wall was detaching great waves or 
 sheets of almost solid water, which bombarded the 
 ship in successive blows, to be then lost in the gray 
 whirl to leeward. Overhead was the same dismal 
 hue, marked by hurrying masses of darker cloud, and 
 below was a sea of froth, white and flat ; for no waves 
 could raise their heads in that wind. Drenched to 
 the skin, he tried the wheel and found it free in its 
 movements. In front of it was a substantial binnacle, 
 and within a compass, which, though sluggish, as 
 
 312 
 
The Derelict Neptune 
 
 from a well-worn pivot, was practically in good con 
 dition. Blowing us about nor -west by west/ he 
 muttered, as he looked at it ; * straight up the coast. 
 It s better than the beach in this weather, but may 
 land us in Havana. He examined the boat. It was 
 full of water, and tailing to windward, held by its 
 painter. Making sure that this was fast, he went 
 down. 
 
 * Doc, he said, as he squeezed the water from his 
 limp cork helmet and flattened it on the table, have 
 you any objections to being rescued by some craft 
 going into Havana ? 
 
 I have decided objections. 
 
 * So have I ; but this wind is blowing us there 
 sideways. Now, such a blow as this, at this time of 
 year, will last three days at least, and I ve an idea 
 that it ll haul gradually to the south, and west towards 
 the end of it. Where ll we be then? Either piled 
 up on one of the Bahama cays or interviewed by the 
 Spaniards. Now I ve been thinking of a scheme on 
 deck. We can t get back to camp for a while that s 
 settled. This iron hull is worth something, and if we 
 can take it into an American port we can claim 
 salvage. Key West is the nearest, but Fernandina is 
 the surest, We ve got a stump of a foremast and a 
 rudder and a compass. If we can get some kind of 
 sail up forward and bring her fore the wind, we can 
 steer any course within thirty degrees of the wind 
 line. 
 
 But I can t steer. And how long will this voyage 
 take ? What will we eat ? 
 
 * Yes, you can steer good enough. And, of course, 
 it depends on food, and water, too. W T e d better catch 
 some of this that s going to waste. 
 
 In what had been the steward s store-room they 
 found a harness-cask with bones and a dry dust in 
 the bottom. * It s salt meat, I suppose, said the 
 
The Derelict c Neptune 
 
 doctor, reduced to its elements. With the handles 
 of their pistols they carefully hammered down the 
 rusty hoops over the shrunken staves, which were 
 well preserved by the brine they had once held, and 
 taking the cask on deck, cleaned it thoroughly under 
 the scuppers or drain-holes of the poop, and let it 
 stand under the stream of water to swell and sweeten 
 itself. 
 
 If we find more casks, we ll catch some more, said 
 Boston ; * but that will last us two weeks. Now we ll 
 hunt for her stores. I ve eaten salt-horse twenty 
 years old, but I can t vouch for what we may find 
 here. They examined all the rooms adjacent to the 
 cabin, but found nothing. 
 
 * Where s the lazarette in this kind of a ship ? 
 asked Boston. The cabin runs right aft to the 
 stern. It must be below us. He found that the 
 carpet was not tacked to the floor, and, raising the 
 after end, discovered a hatch, or trap-door, which he 
 lifted. Below, when their eyes were accustomed to 
 the darkness, they saw boxes and barrels all covered 
 with the same fine dust which filled the cabin. 
 
 1 Don t go down there yet, Boston, said the doctor. 
 It may be full of carbonic acid gas. She s been 
 afire, you know. Wait. He tore a strip from some 
 bedding in one of the rooms, and, lighting one end by 
 means of a flint and steel which he carried, lowered 
 the smouldering rag until it rested on the pile below. 
 It did not go out. 
 
 Safe enough, Boston, he remarked. But you 
 go down ; you re younger. 
 
 Boston smiled and sprang down on the pile, from 
 which he passed up a box. Looks like tinned stuff, 
 Doc. Open it, and I ll look over here. 
 
 The doctor smashed the box with his foot, and 
 found, as the other had thought, that it contained 
 cylindrical cans ; but the labels were faded with age. 
 
 314 
 
The Derelict c Neptune 
 
 Opening one with his jack-knife, he tasted the con 
 tents. It was a mixture of meat and a fluid, called 
 by sailors soup-and-bully, and as fresh and sweet as 
 though canned the day before. 
 
 We re all right, Boston, he called down the hatch. 
 * Here s as good a dish as I ve tasted for months, 
 ready cooked, too. 
 
 Boston soon appeared. There are some beef or 
 pork barrels over in the wing/ he said, and plenty 
 of this canned stuff. I don t know what good the 
 salt meat is. The barrels seem tight, but we won t 
 need to broach one for a while. There s a bag of 
 coffee gone to dust and some hard bread that isn t 
 fit to eat ; but this ll do/ He picked up the open can. 
 
 Boston, said the doctor, if those barrels contain 
 meat, we ll find it cooked boiled in its own brine, 
 like this. 
 
 * Isn t it strange, said Boston, as he tasted the 
 contents of the can, that this stuff should keep so 
 long? 
 
 4 Not at all. It was cooked thoroughly by the heat, 
 and then frozen. If your barrels haven t burst from 
 the expansion of the brine under the heat or cold, 
 you ll find the meat just as good. 
 
 But rather salty, if I m a judge of salt-horse. 
 Now, where s the sail-locker? We want a sail on 
 that foremast. It must be forward. 
 
 In the forecastle they found sailors chests and 
 clothing in all stages of ruin, but none of the spare 
 sails that ships carry. In the boatswain s locker, in 
 one corner of the forecastle, however, they found 
 some iron-strapped blocks in fairly good condition, 
 which Boston noted. Then they opened the main- 
 hatch, and discovered a mixed pile of boxes, some 
 showing protruding necks of large bottles, or carboys, 
 others nothing but the circular opening. Here and 
 there in the tangled heap were sections of canvas 
 
 315 
 
The Derelict Neptune 
 
 sails rolled and unrolled, but all yellow and worth 
 less. They closed the hatch and returned to the 
 cabin, where they could converse. 
 
 * They stowed their spare canvas in the tween- 
 deck on top of the cargo, said Boston; and the 
 carboys 
 
 And the carboys burst from the heat and ruined 
 the sails, broke in the doctor. But another question 
 is, what became of that acid ? 
 
 If it s not in the tween-deck yet, it must be in the 
 hold leaked through the hatches. 
 
 I hope it hasn t reached the iron in the hull, 
 Boston, my boy. It takes a long time for cold acids 
 to act on iron after the first oxidation, but in fifty 
 years mixed nitric and sulphuric will do lots of work. 
 
 No fear, Doc ; it had done its work when you were 
 in your cradle. What ll we do for canvas ? We must 
 get this craft before the wind. How ll the carpet do ? 
 Boston lifted the edge, and tried the fabric in his 
 fingers. It ll go, he said; we ll double it. I ll 
 hunt for a palm and needle and some twine. These 
 articles he found in the mate s room. The twine s 
 no better than yarn, said he, but we ll use four 
 parts. 
 
 Together they doubled the carpet diagonally, and 
 with long stitches joined the edges. Then Boston 
 sewed into each corner a thimble an iron ring and 
 they had a triangular sail of about twelve feet hoist. 
 
 It hasn t been exposed to the action of the air like 
 the ropes in the locker forward, said Boston, as he 
 arose and took off the palm ; and perhaps it ll last 
 till she pays off. Then we can steer. You get the 
 big pulley-blocks from the locker, Doc, and I ll get 
 the rope from the boat. It s lucky I thought to bring 
 it ; I expected to lift things out of the hold with it. 
 
 At the risk of his life Boston obtained the coil 
 from the boat, while the doctor brought the blocks. 
 
 316 
 
The Derelict c Neptune 
 
 Then, together, they rove off a tackle. With the 
 handles of their pistols they knocked bunk-boards to 
 pieces and saved the nails ; then Boston climbed the 
 foremast, as a painter climbs a steeple by nailing 
 successive billets of wood above his head for steps. 
 Next he hauled up and secured the tackle to the 
 forward side of the mast, with which they pulled up 
 the upper corner of their sail, after lashing the lower 
 corners to the windlass and fife-rail. 
 
 It stood the pressure, and the hulk paid slowly off 
 and gathered headway. Boston took the wheel and 
 steadied her at north-west by west dead before the 
 wind while the doctor, at his request, brought the 
 open can of soup and lubricated the wheel-screw with 
 the only substitute for oil at their command ; for the 
 screw worked hard with the rust of fifty years. 
 
 Their improvised sail, pressed steadily on but one 
 side, had held together, but now, with the first flap as 
 the gale caught it from another direction, appeared a 
 rent ; with the next flap the rag went to pieces. 
 
 Let her go ! sang out Boston gleefully ; we can 
 steer now. Come here, Doc, and learn to steer. 
 
 The doctor came ; and when he left that wheel, 
 three days later, he had learned. For the wind had 
 blown a continuous gale the whole of this time, which, 
 with the ugly sea raised as the ship left the lee of the 
 land, necessitated the presence of both men at the 
 helm. Only occasionally was there a lull, during 
 which one of them could rush below and return with 
 a can of soup. During one of these lulls Boston had 
 examined the boat, towing half out of water, and con 
 cluding that a short painter was best with a water 
 logged boat, had reinforced it with a few turns of his 
 rope from forward. In the three days they had 
 sighted no craft except such as their own helpless 
 hove-to or scudding. 
 
 Boston had judged rightly in regard to the wind. 
 
The Derelict Neptune 
 
 It had hauled slowly to the southward, allowing him 
 to make the course he wished through the Bahama 
 and up the Florida Channel, with the wind over the 
 stern. During the day he could guide himself by 
 landmarks, but at night, with a darkened binnacle, 
 he could only steer blindly on with the wind at his 
 back. The storm centre, at first to the south of Cuba, 
 had made a wide circle, concentric with the curving 
 course of the ship, and when the latter had reached 
 the upper end of the Florida Channel, had spurted 
 ahead and whirled out to sea across her bows. It was 
 then that the undiminished gale, blowing nearly west, 
 had caused Boston, in despair, to throw the wheel 
 down and bring the ship into the trough of the sea 
 to drift. Then the two wet, exhausted, hollow-eyed 
 men slept the sleep that none but sailors and soldiers 
 know; and when they wakened, twelve hours later, 
 stiff and sore, it was to look out on a calm, starlit 
 evening, with an eastern moon silvering the surface of 
 the long, north-bound rollers, and showing in sharp 
 relief a dark horizon, on which there was no sign of 
 land or sail. 
 
 They satisfied their hunger; then Boston, with a 
 rusty iron pot from the galley, to which he fastened 
 the end of his rope, dipped up some of the water from 
 over the side. It was warm to the touch, and, aware 
 that they were in the Gulf Stream, they crawled under 
 the musty bedding in the cabin berths and slept 
 through the night. In the morning there was no 
 promise of the easterly wind that Boston hoped would 
 come to blow them to port, and they secured their 
 boat reeving off davit-tackles, and with the plug out, 
 pulling it up, one end at a time, while the water 
 drained out through the hole in the bottom. 
 
 Now, Boston, said the doctor, here we are, as you 
 say, on the outer edge of the Gulf Stream, drifting 
 out into the broad Atlantic at the rate of four miles 
 
The Derelict c Neptune 
 
 an hour. We ve got to make the best of it until 
 something comes along; so you hunt through that 
 store-room and see what else there is to eat, and I ll 
 examine the cargo. I want to know where that acid 
 went. 
 
 They opened all the hatches, and while Boston de 
 scended to the lazarette, the doctor, with his trousers 
 rolled up, climbed down the notched steps in a 
 stanchion. In a short time he came up with a yellow 
 substance in his hand, which he washed thoroughly 
 with fresh water in Boston s improvised draw-bucket, 
 and placed in the sun to dry. Then he returned to 
 the tween-deck. After a while, Boston, rummaging 
 the lazarette, heard him calling through the bulkhead, 
 and joined him. 
 
 Look here, Boston, said the doctor, I ve cleared 
 away the muck over this hatch. It s " corked," as 
 you sailormen call it. Help me get it up. 
 
 They dug the compacted oakum from the seams 
 with their knives, and by iron rings in each corner, 
 now eaten with rust to almost the thinness of wire, 
 they lifted the hatch. Below was a filthy-looking 
 layer of whitish substance, protruding from which 
 were charred, half-burned staves. First they repeated 
 the experiment with the smouldering rag, and finding 
 that it burned, as before, they descended. The whitish 
 substance was hard enough to bear their weight, and 
 they looked around. Overhead, hung to the under 
 side of the deck and extending the length of the hold, 
 were wooden tanks, charred, and in some places burned 
 through. 
 
 She must have been built for a passenger or troop 
 ship, said Boston. Those tanks would water a 
 regiment. 
 
 1 Boston, answered the doctor irrelevantly, will 
 you climb up and bring down an oar from the boat ? 
 Carry it down don t throw it, my boy. Boston 
 
 319 
 
The Derelict Neptune 
 
 obliged him, and the doctor, picking his way forward, 
 then aft, struck each tank with an oar. * Empty all 
 of them, he said. 
 
 He dug out with his knife a piece of the whitish 
 substance under foot, and examined it closely in the 
 light from the hatch. 
 
 Boston, he said impressively, this ship was loaded 
 with lime, tallow, and acids acids above, lime and 
 tallow down here. This stuff is neither ; it is lime- 
 soap. And, moreover, it has not been touched by 
 acids. The doctor s ruddy face was ashen. 
 
 Well? asked Boston. 
 
 Lime- soap is formed by the causticizing action of 
 lime on tallow in the presence of water and heat. It 
 is easy to understand this fire. One of those tanks 
 leaked and dribbled down on the cargo, attacking the 
 lime which was stowed underneath, as all these 
 staves we see on top are from tallow-kids. The heat 
 generated by the slaking lime set fire to the barrels in 
 contact, which in turn set fire to others, and they 
 burned until the air was exhausted, and then went 
 out. See, they are but partly consumed. There was 
 intense heat in this hold, and expansion of the water 
 in all the tanks. Are tanks at sea filled to the 
 top? 
 
 Chock full, and a cap screwed down on the upper 
 end of the pipes. 
 
 As I thought. The expanding water burst every 
 tank in the hold, and the cargo was deluged with 
 water, which attacked every lime-barrel in the bottom 
 layer, at least. Kesult : the bursting of those barrels 
 from the ebullition of slaking lime, the melting of the 
 tallow which could not burn long in the closed-up 
 space and the mixing of it in the interstices of the 
 lime-barrels with water and lime a boiling hot mess. 
 What happens under such conditions ? 
 
 Give it up, said Boston laconically. 
 320 
 
The Derelict Neptune* 
 
 Lime-soap is formed, which rises, and the water 
 beneath is in time all taken up by the lime. 
 
 But what of it ? interrupted the other. 
 
 Wait. I see that this hold and the tween-deck 
 are lined with wood. Is that customary in iron ships? 
 
 Not now. It used to be a notion that an iron skin 
 damaged the cargo ; so the first iron ships were ceiled 
 with wood. 
 
 Are there any drains in the tween-deck to let 
 water out, in case it gets into that deck from above 
 a sea, for instance ? 
 
 Yes, always ; three or four scupper- holes each side 
 amidships. They lead the water into the bilges, where 
 the pumps can reach it. 
 
 I found up there, continued the doctor, a large 
 piece of wood, badly charred by acid for half its length, 
 charred to a lesser degree for the rest. It was oval in 
 cross section, and the largest end was charred most. 
 
 Scupper-plug. I suppose they plugged the tween- 
 deck scuppers to keep any water they might ship out 
 of the bilges and away from the lime. 
 
 Yes, and those plugs remained in place for days, 
 if not weeks or months, after the carboys burst, as 
 indicated by the greater charring of the larger end of 
 the plug. I burrowed under the debris, and found 
 the hole which that plug fitted. It was worked loose, 
 or knocked out of the hole by some internal movement 
 of the broken carboys, perhaps. At any rate, it came 
 out, after remaining in place long enough for the 
 acids to become thoroughly mixed and for the hull to 
 cool down. She was in the ice, remember. Boston, 
 the mixed acid went down that hole, or others like it. 
 Where is it now ? 
 
 I suppose, said Boston thoughtfully, that it 
 soaked up into the hold, through the skin. 
 
 Exactly. The skin is calked with oakum, is it 
 not ? Boston nodded. 
 
 321 Y 
 
The Derelict Neptune 
 
 1 That oakum would contract with the charring 
 action, as did the oakum in the hatch, and every drop 
 of that acid ten thousand gallons, as I have figured 
 has filtered up into the hold, with the exception of 
 what remained between the frames under the skin. 
 Have you ever studied organic chemistry ? 
 
 1 Slightly. 
 
 Then you can follow me. When tallow is saponi 
 fied there is formed, from the palmitin, stearin, and 
 olein contained, with the causticizing agent in this 
 case, lime a soap. But there are two ends to every 
 equation, and at the bottom of this immense soap-vat, 
 held in solution by the water, which would afterwards 
 be taken up by the surplus lime, was the other end of 
 this equation ; and as the yield from tallow of this 
 other product is about thirty per cent., and as we start 
 with eight thousand fifty-pound kids four hundred 
 thousand pounds all of which has disappeared, we 
 know that, sticking to the skin and sides of the barrels 
 down here, is or was once one hundred and twenty 
 thousand pounds, or sixty tons, of the other end of the 
 equation glycerine ! 
 
 Do you mean, Doc, asked Boston, with a startled 
 look, that 
 
 I mean, said the doctor emphatically, that the 
 first thing the acids mixed in the tween-deck to just 
 about the right proportions, mind you would attack, 
 on oozing through the skin, would be this glycerine ; 
 and the certain product of this union under intense 
 cold this hull was frozen in the ice, remember 
 would be nitro-glycerine ; and, as the yield of the 
 explosive is two hundred and twenty per cent, of the 
 glycerine, we can be morally sure that in the bottom 
 of this hold, each minute globule of it held firmly in 
 a hard matrix of sulphate or nitrate of calcium which 
 would be formed next when the acids met the hydrates 
 and carbonates of lime is over one hundred and 
 
 322 
 
The Derelict Neptune 
 
 thirty tons of nitro-glycerine, all the more explosive 
 from not being washed of free acids. Come up on 
 deck. I ll show you something else. 
 
 Limp and nerveless, Boston followed the doctor. 
 This question was beyond his seamanship. 
 
 The doctor brought the yellow substance now well 
 dried. I found plenty of this in the tween-deck, 
 he said ; and I should judge they used it to pack 
 between the carboy boxes. It was once cotton-batting. 
 It is now, since I have washed it, a very good sample 
 of gun-cotton. Get me a hammer crowbar some 
 thing hard. 
 
 Boston brought a marline-spike from the locker, 
 and the doctor, tearing off a small piece of the sub 
 stance and placing it on the iron barrel of a gipsy- 
 winch, gave it a hard blow with the marline- spike, 
 which was nearly torn from his hand by the explosion 
 that followed. 
 
 We have in the tween-deck/ said the doctor, as 
 he turned, about twice as many pounds of this stuff 
 as they used to pack the carboys with ; and, like the 
 nitro-glycerine, it is the more easily exploded from the 
 impurities and free acids. I washed this for safe 
 handling. Boston, we are adrift on a floating bomb 
 that would pulverize the Kock of Gibraltar ! 
 
 But, doctor, asked Boston, as he leaned against 
 the rail for support, wouldn t there be evolution of 
 heat from the action of the acids on the lime enough 
 to explode the nitro-glycerine just formed? 
 
 * The best proof that it did not explode is the fact 
 that this hull still floats. The action was too slow, 
 and it was very cold down there. But I can t yet 
 account for the acids left in the bilges. What have 
 they been doing all these fifty years ? 
 
 Boston found a sounding-rod in the locker, which 
 he scraped bright with his knife, then, unlaying a 
 strand of the rope for a line, sounded the pump-well. 
 
 323 Y 2 
 
The Derelict Neptune 
 
 The rod came up dry, but with a slight discoloration 
 on the lower end, which Boston showed to the doctor. 
 
 The acids have expended themselves on the iron 
 frames and plates. How thick are they ? 
 
 Plates, about five-eighths of an inch ; frames, like 
 railroad iron. 
 
 This hull is a shell ! We won t get much salvage. 
 Get up some kind of distress signal, Boston. Some 
 how the doctor was now the master-spirit. 
 
 A flag was nailed to the mast, union down, to be 
 blown to pieces with the first breeze ; then another, 
 and another, until the flag locker was exhausted. 
 Next they hung out, piece after piece, all they could 
 spare of the rotten bedding, until that, too, was ex 
 hausted. Then they found, in a locker of their boat, 
 a flag of Free Cuba, which they decided not to waste, 
 but to hang out only when a sail appeared. 
 
 But no sail appeared, and the craft, buffeted by 
 gales and seas, drifted eastward, while the days 
 became weeks, and the weeks became months. Twice 
 she entered the Sargasso Sea the graveyard of dere 
 licts to be blown out by friendly gales and resume 
 her travels. Occasional rains replenished the stock 
 of fresh water, but the food they found at first, with 
 the exception of some cans of fruit, was all that came 
 to light ; for the salt meat was leathery, and crumbled 
 to a salty dust on exposure to the air. After a while 
 their stomachs revolted at the diet of cold soup, and 
 they ate only when hunger compelled them. 
 
 At first they had stood watch-and-watch, but the 
 lonely horror of the long night vigils in the constant 
 apprehension of instant death had affected them alike, 
 and they gave it up, sleeping and watching together. 
 They had taken care of their boat and provisioned it, 
 ready to lower and pull into the track of any craft that 
 might approach. But it was four months from the 
 beginning of this strange voyage when the two men, 
 
 324 
 
The Derelict Neptune 
 
 gaunt and hungry with ruined digestions and 
 shattered nerves saw, with joy which may be 
 imagined, the first land and the first sail that glad 
 dened their eyes after the storm in the Florida 
 Channel. 
 
 A fierce gale from the south-west had been driving 
 them, broadside on, in the trough of the sea, for the 
 whole of the preceding day and night ; and the land 
 they now saw appeared to them a dark, ragged line of 
 blue, early in the morning. Boston could only sur 
 mise that it was the coast of Portugal or Spain. The 
 sail which lay between them and the land, about 
 three miles to leeward proved to be the try-sail of a 
 black craft, hove-to, with bows nearly towards them. 
 
 Boston climbed the foremast with their only flag 
 and secured it ; then, from the high poop-deck, they 
 watched the other craft, plunging and wallowing in 
 the immense Atlantic combers, often raising her fore 
 foot into plain view, again descending with a dive that 
 hid the whole forward half in a white cloud of spume. 
 
 1 If she was a steamer I d call her a cruiser, said 
 Boston ; one of England s black ones, with a storm- 
 sail on her military mainmast. She has a ram bow, 
 and yes, sponsons and guns. That s what she is, 
 with her funnels and bridge carried away. 
 
 Isn t she right in our track, Boston? asked the 
 doctor excitedly. * Hadn t she better get out of our 
 way? 
 
 She s got steam up a full head ; see the escape- 
 jet ? She isn t helpless. If she don t launch a boat, 
 we ll take to ours and board her. 
 
 The distance lessened rapidly the cruiser plunging 
 up and down in the same spot, the derelict heaving to 
 leeward in great, swinging leaps, as the successive 
 seas caught her, each one leaving her half a length 
 farther on. Soon they could make out the figures of 
 men. 
 
 325 
 
The Derelict Neptune 
 
 Take us off, screamed the doctor, waving his arms, 
 and get out of our way ! 
 
 We ll clear her, said Boston ; see, she s started 
 her engine. 
 
 As they drifted down on the weather-side of the 
 cruiser they shouted repeatedly words of supplication 
 and warning. They were answered by a solid shot 
 from a secondary gun, which flew over their heads. 
 At the same time, the ensign of Spain was run up on 
 the flag-staff. 
 
 They re Spanish, Boston. They re firing on us. 
 Into that boat with you ! If a shot hits our cargo, 
 we won t know what struck us. 
 
 They sprang into the boat, which luckily hung on 
 the lee side, and cleared the falls fastened and coiled 
 in the bow and stern. Often during their long voyage 
 they had rehearsed the launching of the boat in a sea 
 way an operation requiring quick and concerted 
 action. 
 
 Eeady, Doc ? sang out Boston. * One, two, three 
 let go ! The falls overhauled with a whir, and the 
 falling boat, striking an uprising sea with a smack, 
 sank with it. When it raised they unhooked the 
 tackle blocks, and pushed off with the oars just as a 
 second shot hummed over their heads. 
 
 Pull, Boston; pull hard straight to windward! 
 cried the doctor. 
 
 The tight whaleboat shipped no water, and though 
 they were pulling in the teeth of a furious gale, the 
 hulk was drifting away from them, so, in a short time, 
 they were separated from their late home by a full 
 quarter-mile of angry sea. The cruiser had forged 
 ahead in plain view, and, as they looked, took in the 
 try- sail. 
 
 She s going to wear, said Boston. See, she s 
 paying off. 
 
 I don t know what " wearing " means, Boston, 
 326 
 
The Derelict Neptune 
 
 panted the doctor, * but I know the Spanish nature. 
 She s going to ram that hundred and thirty tons of 
 nitro. Don t stop. Pull away. Hold on, there ! 
 hold on, you fools ! he shouted. * That s a torpedo ; 
 keep away from her ! 
 
 Forgetting his own injunction to pull away, the 
 doctor stood up waving his oar frantically, and Boston 
 assisted. But if their shouts and gestures were under 
 stood aboard the cruiser, they were ignored. She 
 slowly turned in a wide curve and headed straight for 
 the Neptune, which had drifted to leeward of her. 
 
 What was in the minds of the officers on that 
 cruiser s deck will never be known. Cruisers of all 
 nations hold roving commissions in regard to derelicts, 
 and it is fitting and proper for one of them to gently 
 prod a vagrant of the sea with the steel prow and 
 send her below to trouble no more. But it may be 
 that the sight of the Cuban flag, floating defiantly in 
 the gale, had something to do with the full speed at 
 which the Spanish ship approached. When but half 
 a length separated the two craft, a heavy sea lifted the 
 bow of the cruiser high in air ; then it sank, and the 
 sharp steel ram came down like a butcher s cleaver on 
 the side of the derelict. 
 
 A great semicircular wall of red shut out the gray 
 of the sea and sky to leeward, and for an instant the 
 horrified men in the boat saw as people see by a 
 lightning flash dark lines radiating from the centre 
 of this red wall, and near this centre, poised on end 
 in mid-air, with deck and sponsons still intact, a bow- 
 less, bottomless remnant of the cruiser. Then, and 
 before the remnant sank into the vortex beneath, the 
 spectacle went out in the darkness of unconsciousness ; 
 for a report, as of concentrated thunder, struck them 
 down. A great wave had left the crater-like depres 
 sion in the sea, which threw the boat on end, and 
 with the inward rush of surrounding water arose a 
 
 327 
 
The Derelict Neptune 
 
 mighty gray cone, which then subsided to a hollow, 
 while another wave followed the first. Again and 
 again this gray pillar rose and fell, each subsidence 
 marked by the sending forth of a wave. And long 
 before these concentric waves had lost themselves in 
 the battle with the storm-driven combers from the 
 ocean, the half-filled boat, with her unconscious 
 passengers, had drifted over the spot where lay the 
 shattered remnant, which with the splintered frag 
 ments of wood and iron strewn on the surface and 
 bottom of the sea for a mile around, and the lessening 
 cloud of dust in the air, was all that was left of the 
 derelict Neptune and one of the finest cruisers in the 
 Spanish navy. 
 
 A few days later, two exhausted, half-starved men 
 pulled a whaleboat up to the steps of the wharf at 
 Cadiz, where they told some lies and sold their boat. 
 Six months after, these two men, sitting at a camp- 
 fire of the Cuban army, read from a discoloured news 
 paper, brought ashore with the last supplies, the 
 following : 
 
 By CABLE TO THE "HERALD." 
 
 1 CADIZ, March 13, 1895. Anxiety for the safety of the 
 Peina Regente has grown rapidly to-day, and this evening it is 
 feared generally that she went down with her four hundred and 
 twenty souls in the storm which swept the southern coast on 
 Sunday night and Monday morning. Despatches from Gibraltar 
 say that pieces of a boat and several semaphore flags belonging 
 to the cruiser came ashore at Ceuta and Tarifa this afternoon. 
 
 328 
 
HONOUR AMONG THIEVES 
 
 * Six days thou shalt labour and do all that thou art able, 
 And on the seventh thou shalt holy-stone the deck and scrape 
 the cable. 
 
 Sailors 1 Commandments. 
 
 WHEN you have made a more than successful cruise, 
 on which you have ravaged the coast from Callao to 
 the Isthmus ; when your hold is filled with the 
 choicest of brandies, wines, and liqueurs with fancy 
 groceries and the finest of silks, brocades, and broad 
 cloths, and the covers of four treasure-chests in the 
 tween-deck will hardly close over the contents ; when 
 you have nine ships, four barques, and a brig or two 
 as well as a few competitive Malay praus to your 
 credit, and your reputation for elusiveness troubles 
 the men-of-war of four nations ; lastly, when your 
 number is reduced by fights, sickness, and quarter 
 deck correction from forty to twenty, and your share 
 of the spoil is increased in like ratio, it is hard very 
 hard to lie in the scuppers under a hot Pacific sun 
 and whistle for a wind, with your island retreat just 
 below the western horizon, a fat and tempting Chinese 
 junk a half-mile off in the same direction, a curious, 
 though quiescent man-of-war three miles east, and 
 Palm Tree Island, toward which the current is setting, 
 threatening to receive you on its shark-infested reef. 
 Such conditions would try the patience of gentler 
 329 
 
Honour among Thieves 
 
 souls than Captain Swarth and his crew. The brig 
 was taking in water through a started butt in spite 
 of the thrummed topgallant-sail under it at the rate 
 of a foot an hour, while the one gang that they dared 
 show to those inquisitive Government glasses to the 
 eastward could not pump her free in fact, the water 
 gained. Wind was what they wanted ; wind would 
 settle the whole matter. They could man all pumps, 
 lay the junk aboard, tranship what was good of her 
 cargo, lead the bull-dog a chase to the southward, 
 and dodge back to their island to careen and refit, 
 divide up and rest. They knew that man-of-war, 
 though she did not seem to know them, knew her 
 speed and gunnery, and feared her not with wind. 
 
 Yank Tate, the carpenter, sounded the pump-well, 
 and groaned a gentle oath. No good, cappen, he 
 said, as he walked aft with the sounding-rod ; must 
 be up to the second tier now. 
 
 Captain Swarth swept the smoky horizon with his 
 glasses. There was no sign of even a cat s-paw ; the 
 motionless man-of-war, a gun-deck sloop, lay outlined 
 against the haze with the distinct detail of a steel 
 engraving, every block, rope, and reef-point showing. 
 Aboard the junk a big, fat Chinaman sat at the tiller 
 on the high poop, nodding, as though asleep, while 
 the rest of her crew were hidden. Palm Tree Island 
 was nearer ; he could plainly hear the surf crashing 
 on the barrier. 
 
 Get the boys up, Angel, he said to his long-legged, 
 solemn-faced mate ; man both pumps. And, Chips 
 this to the carpenter see what you can do with 
 the lumber down below ; make a balin pump if you 
 can. 
 
 Then we ll have that feller s boats down on us, 
 answered the mate, * and lose the junk too ; they ve 
 got sweeps aboard. Them rags won t fool the brass- 
 buttons after they see our crowd. He pointed to a 
 
 330 
 
Honour among Thieves 
 
 string of signal-flags at the gaff-end, which, in answer 
 to a previous inquiry of the ship, had given the official 
 number of the last brig they had taken that now lay 
 on the bottom, forty miles east. Why not hold on 
 till dark, Bill ? The moon ll bring wind. 
 
 * We ll likely have her boats here soon, anyhow ; 
 they re only waiting till it s cooler. As for the junk, 
 let her go ; there s not much in her. We ve got to 
 float, above all, and float high, or we can t get away 
 when the wind does come. We can fight the boats off. 
 
 Guess yer right, Bill. Pity we lost ours. We 
 could be through wi the junk fore this if we had em. 
 Man the after-pump ! he called. 
 
 The carpenter had disappeared in the tween-deck, 
 and the cosmopolitan crew, with growls and hurrahs, 
 according to their individual appreciation of the situa 
 tion, arose from the hot deck and shipped pump-brakes. 
 As they did so, a tremor ran through the brig, and 
 the water alongside was broken into minute ripples. 
 
 W T hat the devil s that, said the captain barrels 
 adrift in the hold ? Pump away there, my bullies ; 
 lighten her up ! he shouted to the men. 
 
 Look at the Chinamen, Bill ! said the mate. 
 
 The crew of the junk had come to life. Not less 
 than forty long-tailed celestials were flying about her 
 deck, some lowering the heavy mat -sails, some ship 
 ping sweeps, others working at the sharp-pronged 
 wooden anchors, evidently getting them ready. But 
 the sudden showing of fourteen extra white men on 
 the deck of their neighbour did not seem to be the 
 cause of their agitation; for they swung the light 
 craft around until the two painted eyes in the bows 
 looked at the brig, and pulled in the sweeps. 
 
 She s a pirate a Chinese pirate ! cried the 
 captain ; no trading- junk carries that crew. Blown 
 off the coast, likely. The men heard, and a howl 
 of execration arose from the brig s deck not of 
 
Honour among Thieves 
 
 offended virtue; it was, rather, the protest of union 
 against non-union labour. Pickings were scarce and 
 hard-earned in these seas, even when junks and praus 
 kept out of the business. The howl was answered by 
 a shout from the man at the wheel. 
 
 Look at the island look ! Look at it ! he cried. 
 
 Palm Tree Island had arisen from the sea and 
 receded. The low cone of the island was a mile 
 farther to the southward ; but it towered in the air, 
 and around its base was a wide, gray offset which 
 descended steeply to the sea. It had been the barrier 
 reef. 
 
 Earthquake, Angel, that s what we felt ! shouted 
 Captain Swarth. * The sea-bed has sunk, and we re 
 being sucked into the hollow. We ll get the back 
 wave soon. Batten down fore and aft first thing, 
 fore you shorten sail. 
 
 They noticed that the man-of-war was clewing up 
 royals and topgallant-sails, that the Chinamen had 
 disappeared behind the rail, and that the northern 
 horizon, though hidden by a newly-formed fog-bank, 
 was unquestionably elevated ; they seemed to be 
 looking uphill. None too soon was the carpenter 
 called, and hatches and companion-ways covered and 
 secured, for suddenly, about a mile up the slope, 
 appeared a dark line across the water. It deepened, 
 raised and approached, a comber a liquid wall which 
 blotted out the fog-bank. It reached the half-clad 
 ship to the eastward, and they saw her lift her bows 
 to it, then, while everything above topmast-heads 
 sank in a confused tangle, roll on her beam-ends 
 and disappear behind the wave. 
 
 Hang on, everybody ! roared Captain Swarth, as 
 he slipped the bight of a rope over his shoulders ; 
 lash yourselves ! 
 
 The sloop-of-war had taken it bow on, and, though 
 dismasted, had ridden through. The brig and junk 
 
 332 
 
Honour among Thieves 
 
 presented their broadsides the latter intentionally, 
 perhaps from some canon of Chinese seamanship 
 and a moment later were slid-to near the crest of an 
 eighty-foot slope, where a Niagara of foaming water 
 pounded their decks and sides, and rushed them on. 
 Hatches were ripped off, gun-breechings snapped, 
 cursing and praying men were hurled around the 
 deck, and the salt avalanche held the brig in its 
 clutch for a full half-minute, then passed over and 
 on ; and they looked those who could up the 
 receding hill to where the wave-head was shivering 
 itself over the barrier reef, and in the other direction 
 at a second wave, higher, blacker, more menacing, 
 than the first, its crest hidden in fog. 
 
 With barely time for a long breath, the gasping 
 men felt their craft thrown to the top of this comber, 
 augmented in height by the reflected water of the 
 iirst. Again were they hammered by the liquid riot, 
 and, amid fog and foam and thundering uproar, were 
 again hurled shoreward. Some caught a momentary 
 glimpse of the disappearing knuckles of the reef 
 below and a dismasted junk just above ; then the 
 fog thickened, blotting out all but the punishing 
 water and its deafening sound ; then came again 
 the nauseating sinking; then a shock and a sound 
 of smashing wood. The brig had struck on the 
 reef or within it. 
 
 But the dominant volume of sound was transferred 
 from landward to seaward, and though they could see 
 nothing now, they knew that the third wave, as it 
 crashed over the barrier, was the largest of all. Up 
 the unseen slope the half-filled brig travelled, the 
 crew clinging to ropes and deck-fittings, until, above 
 the fog, and before the pitiless cataract began to 
 smother and beat them, they viewed the highest 
 hill-top of the island, not a quarter-mile away. Then 
 they saw no more, nor did they breathe, until, after 
 
 333 
 
Honour among Thieves 
 
 a succession of wrenchings, joltings, and crashings, 
 they found their brig surrounded by palm-trees, jib- 
 boom and bowsprit gone, mainmast pointing one way 
 and foremast the other which latter phenomena, 
 with the open searns in the spirally curved deck, 
 indicated a broken backbone and looked, through 
 thinning fog and tree-trunks, down a moist slope 
 to a chaotic ocean, crossed and recrossed by advancing 
 and reflected tidal waves. 
 
 Eighteen bruised and half -drowned men crawled 
 along the sloping deck to where Captain Swarth was 
 looking over the rail at the glistening streams spout 
 ing from the wrecked hull. 
 
 Who s gone? he demanded, as he noticed their 
 diminished number. 
 
 * Big Tom went with the first sea, said one. He 
 held on to the fore channels a while, then let go. 
 
 And none o you dock-rats lent him a hand ? 
 Who s in the forecastle? Suspicious sounds came 
 from forward jarrings and oaths. The men looked 
 at one another. 
 
 * Shorty and the Dago, likely, they answered ; 
 dividin up Tom s kit. 
 
 You infernal jackals! roared the captain, his eyes 
 snapping ; let a good man drown, and fight over his 
 clothes before he s cold. Mr. Todd, take a hand in 
 that. 
 
 When Captain Swarth called his mate Mr. Todd, 
 things and men moved aboard that brig. The 
 solemn-faced officer selected a belaying-pin from the 
 main fife-rail, and going forward, coolly descended 
 the forecastle-hatch. The crew followed to the fore 
 mast, and when, after a break and renewal of the 
 sounds in a new key, two bloody-faced men emerged 
 from the forecastle, they fell upon them with fists and 
 boots, and smote them hip and thigh. 
 
 Stop that ! shouted the captain, after a scowling 
 334 
 
Honour among Thieves 
 
 approval. Shorty and Pedro got ahead o you that s 
 all. Clew up and stow the canvas. 
 
 What s the use, cappen ? answered one of them ; 
 we re on the overland route. Mr. Todd was behind 
 the man and felled him to the deck with the belaying- 
 pin. 
 
 * Up wi you ! he yelled. Up aloft wi you ! D ye 
 think coz yer tossed ashore ye ve done wi yer work ? 
 The sailor arose, and, rubbing his head, followed his 
 mates to the rigging. Then Mr. Todd, with the 
 captain and carpenter, dropped over the side to hold 
 a survey of the twisted hull. They walked around it 
 in the mud on which it lay, probing gaping seams 
 with their knives, and peering into fore-and-aft 
 fissures and thwart-ship crevasses, through some of 
 which they could see the barrels of their cargo. The 
 brig lay bows down, half-way up the hill, with the 
 beach a quarter -mile away. The water was still 
 draining out. 
 
 She ll never float again, Chips, will she ? said the 
 captain. Yank Tate ruefully shook his head. 
 
 She s a fixture, cappen, said he; a dock-head 
 caps an couldn t budge her, and a dockyard couldn t 
 mend her. The keel s in two pieces, three foot apart; 
 rudder s gone, an stern-post s out o true ; port gar- 
 board s ripped out, an there ain t a sound frame that 
 side. She was a beauty, too a beauty. I never saw 
 her like among workin boats. 
 
 A man hailed from the main-royal yard : There s 
 the junk up the hill, he cried, right side up, and the 
 yaller-backs eatin supper ! 
 
 Supper ? growled the mate, * supper ? an our 
 grub must be spoiled. We were half-way to the 
 bottom, Bill, in the last sea. 
 
 If they have grub, we ll have some, too, said 
 Captain Swarth quietly. It s a question with me if 
 the junk wasn t right to take it broadside. Eoyal- 
 
 335 
 
Honour among Thieves 
 
 yard, there! he hailed; d you see the bull-dog? 
 The man aloft stood up, looked to the eastward, and 
 called down : 
 
 Headin south under top-s ls ; everything gone 
 aloft an low down in the water ; portholes amidships 
 awash. 
 
 Well, they re afloat anyhow, while we and the 
 Chinamen are high and dry. But if they can t pump 
 her out they re done for too ; there ll be wind on top 
 o this. 
 
 Captain Swarth was right. Such a cataclysm as 
 had, with three waves, washed a five hundred ton brig 
 over a reef and almost to the centre of an island, 
 could not but be followed by atmospheric disturbance. 
 Wind came a vicious hurricane which kept them 
 beneath their leaky deck, listening to wailings and 
 screamings in the rigging, and to the crashing of 
 palm-trunks and branches over their heads, feeling 
 the sway and the heave of the brig on her muddy bed 
 with each heavier puff of the tempest, and passing 
 the day and following night thus, to the accompani 
 ments of hunger and thirst. Provisions were spoiled 
 except the salt meats, which these free-lances would 
 not eat and their appetites were only increased by 
 the tot of good grog served out by Captain Swarth at 
 nightfall, while their tempers were ruffled by his 
 injunction to stay below or get shot. For, though 
 the scuttle-butt was on deck, three open hatches were 
 there as well, under which were barrels of whisky; 
 and Captain Swarth knew his men and the unwritten 
 ethics of the craft, which provide that when dry land 
 is underfoot sea discipline ends. He had work for 
 those men in the morning, and all night he or the 
 mate guarded the deck from the cabin windows with 
 the captain s pepper-box pistol, containing in its six 
 barrels the only dry powder on board. 
 
 The hurricane ended at daylight, and the sun rose 
 336 
 
Honour among Thieves 
 
 in a clear blue sky. Hungry enough now, and savage 
 as uncaged wolves, they ate of the salt-meat hash 
 prepared by the cook, after another allowance of grog. 
 Then Captain Swarth, who had taken a little excursion, 
 imparted the information that the junk lay above them 
 in a clearing, and, though dismasted, was doubtless 
 sound and tight, as her rudder was intact, and no 
 holes could be seen in her. In her was food of some 
 kind rice, sago, curry, fish, etc. Did they want her ? 
 An inarticulate yell answered. Cutlasses and boarding- 
 pikes were handed out, and twenty-two men clambered 
 down the sides and started to exterminate a junkful of 
 Chinamen. 
 
 Over fallen trunks and soggy banks, through moist 
 and tangled undergrowth, they picked their way up 
 the hill ; and when they opened the clearing, with the 
 junk resting straight on her flat bottom, they charged 
 for her sides with curses and yells. 
 
 But they came back, scalded by hot water, bruised 
 by stones flung from primitive catapults, and choking 
 from the fumes of gas-bombs thrown at them, and 
 looked, when their streaming eyes cleared, at an 
 array of sharp spear-heads along the rails, in each of 
 which was more of promise than in the best of their 
 pikes and short cutlasses, and behind each of which 
 was a Chinaman. The fat man they had seen nodding 
 at the tiller stood on the high poop and seemed to be 
 in command. 
 
 Meliean man no hab come top side, he called; 
 Melican man no b long. Chinaman b long fore 
 side. 
 
 do, hey, you yellow - skinned vipers! cried 
 Captain Swarth. At em again, boys! Don t breathe 
 till you get aboard! 
 
 The second charge was half-hearted and futile; 
 they did not breathe the demoralizing fumes, but 
 those heathen were, unquestionably, fighters; and 
 
 337 z 
 
Honour among Thieves 
 
 with several of their number prodded by the spears 
 they withdrew. 
 
 * Why didn t ye give us pistols, cappen ? asked one, 
 as he rubbed the blood from an ugly scratch in his 
 cheek. 
 
 * Powder s wet, you blasted fool ! roared the in 
 furiated captain. All there is that s dry is right 
 here he tapped his pistol * and I ll use this, not 
 on Chinamen, but on white men who re afraid of 
 
 them ! D n your hides ! can t you take a junk in 
 
 a meadow ? Could you take a peanut-stand if some 
 one showed you how ? Come on, now, you drove of 
 curs! 
 
 Away they went, yelling with a forced enthusiasm, 
 yet earnestly resolved to capture that junk, but were 
 again repulsed at the brown sides. They tumbled 
 back, caressing more spear-pricks, and sat down on 
 tree-trunks silent, gloomy, and ashamed- meekly 
 taking the tirade of abuse dealt out to them in 
 explosive volleys. For Captain Swarth had the only 
 fire-arm. 
 
 Then the Captain and mate, both nursing bloody 
 knuckles, drew aside and conferred, to which confer 
 ence they called the carpenter. They studied the 
 junk and the ground underfoot, peered down the 
 slope through the trees to the shelving beach, and 
 discussed the shortcomings of the men. 
 
 It s only coz they re ashore, cappen/ said the 
 carpenter ; a sailor ashore isn t himself. 
 
 Well, if they can t fight they can work. And 
 work they shall if the Chinamen agree. 
 
 With a dingy handkerchief at the end of a stick, 
 Captain Swarth approached the junk. The Chinamen 
 evidently understood a flag of truce, for they threw 
 nothing at him, and he called to the captain : 
 
 Chinaman no fight no bobbery ; Melican no 
 bobbery ; saway ? 
 
 338 
 
Honour among Thieves 
 
 Chinaman b long, answered the big man. 
 
 Yes, that s right ; Chinaman belong. But we 
 can t get away ; neither can you. Now, s pose 
 Melican belong all same Chinaman savvay ? The 
 big captain nodded, and Captain Swarth went on : 
 
 Melican ship all smash one piecee wreck all 
 gone no belong. Savvay ? more nods Chinaman 
 got junk, no got mast, no got sail. Melican got mast, 
 got sail, no got junk. Melican takee junk down fore- 
 side makee junk top side one piecee good junk. 
 Melican makee mast makee sail. Then, chop-chop 
 Chinaman go way foreside takee Melican fifty 
 mile one piecee island all same this. 
 
 Melican no fightee no kick up bobblee ? 
 
 No, no, no bobbery no trouble at all, replied the 
 wrathful and humiliated Captain Swarth. * We ll 
 slide your old tub down to the beach, fit her out, 
 launch her, and navigate her. All we want is to get 
 away over yonder. He waved his hand to the west 
 ward. 
 
 The junk captain said something to his followers, 
 and while a babel of Chinese disputation troubled the 
 air, Captain Swarth sat down and smoked (it was a 
 fine cigar, from the private stock of a tea-clipper s 
 captain), mentally computing the weight of the junk 
 and the horse-power of his crew. The outcry on the 
 junk was silenced by the big captain s laying about 
 him with a bamboo pole, and Captain Swarth, 
 grinning from a fellow-feeling, approached. The 
 understanding arrived at was : that the Chinamen 
 were to remain aboard their craft and do no work; 
 that the white men could do what they pleased except 
 interfere with the peace and comfort of the Chinamen ; 
 and, if they succeeded in launching her, they could 
 only ride in her as far as their island, when they 
 were to depart, and allow the junk to go on with the 
 masts and sails as her own. To which compact 
 
 339 z * 
 
Honour among Thieves 
 
 Captain Swarth and Captain Lee Kin shook hands 
 over the rail. 
 
 Then Captain Swarth climbed aboard, examined the 
 crazy windlass with which the Chinamen got their 
 anchors, shook his head, looked at the strong partners 
 (strengthening pieces) in the deck, which had received 
 the shroudless masts, smiled, and then asked about 
 her cargo. There was very little of it all clear of 
 the mast-steps. 
 
 He returned to his men and told them what they 
 were to do. Another uproar followed. They would 
 see him in the lower regions first. The cruise was 
 ended, and with it ended Captain Swarth s authority. 
 They would do what was possible to repair their own 
 craft and launch her ; they would fight the Chinamen 
 until the last man dropped ; but they wouldn t work 
 that junk down the hill for any nest of rat-eating 
 heathen. To which Captain Swarth replied that they 
 would. They were nineteen old women, afraid of 
 getting hurt ; they couldn t fight Chinamen, no 
 matter how hard they tried ; but they could work 
 under orders. He had six bullets, each equal to a 
 man, and a cutlass good for another. Did anyone 
 care to make one of the seven ? 
 
 Captain Swarth was a good shot and a good swords 
 man, and their indignation subsided to muttering 
 sulks. Then, after admonishing them to be respectful 
 and obedient, he laid out their work. They would 
 first dismantle the brig, leaving nothing standing but 
 the lower masts ; then they would execute such 
 suggestions of civil and mechanical engineering as 
 came to the minds of the captain, mate, or carpenter 
 in regard to the floating of the junk. When that was 
 accomplished other things would follow. The 
 carpenter was to be their immediate boss, or fore 
 man, under whom they would work by day. At 
 night they would sleep in their forecastle, and they 
 
 340 
 
Honour among Thieves 
 
 would stay out of the hold and let the liquor alone. 
 The captain and mate would stand * watch-and-watch 
 with the pistol to keep them civil by day and sober 
 by night. The first man who refused duty or entered 
 the hold of the brig would be shot. They would be 
 served a tot of grog three times a day, and eat the 
 salt meat and such vegetables as the cook, who 
 was to be excused from other labour, could find on 
 the island. 
 
 The man with the wounded cheek stepped forward 
 and suggested the propriety of a blow-out with the 
 whisky before they began, and Captain Swarth re 
 fused them even this ; for the blow-out would not 
 end, he said, until the whisky was gone, and by that 
 time half of them would be dead, and the other half 
 in the horrors. 
 
 Sullenly they arose at his order and marched back 
 to the brig, where they handed in their side-arms and 
 pikes. They loosed all canvas, and the day was spent 
 in sending it down as fast as it dried. Nightfall saw 
 the last sail, snugly rolled, deposited on gratings 
 alongside and covered. Then they ate their salt 
 supper and turned in. 
 
 In the morning mutiny was rampant. Nineteen 
 bad-tempered men faced Captain Swarth at the main 
 mast and informed him that he was deposed from the 
 captaincy ; that future work and movements would be 
 governed by election ; and that an immediate over 
 haul of the cargo and division of the treasure had 
 been decided on. Two fell dead, and the rest went to 
 work, burying their fallen shipmates first, while 
 Captain Swarth, remarking that there were four 
 bullets left, handed the pistol to Mr. Todd, and went 
 to his breakfast and his bunk. 
 
 Sixteen able seamen, officered by such men as 
 Captain Swarth and Angel Todd, can do a great deal 
 with ropes and blocks. Eoyal, topgallant, topsail, 
 
Honour among Thieves 
 
 and lower yards came down that day and were blocked 
 alongside, with the gear coiled up and tagged. Next 
 day followed the topgallant masts and top-masts, 
 with the spanker-boom and gaff. Growl ye may, 
 but work ye must, said Mr. Todd to them as they 
 showed him their sores and cursed him for a slave- 
 driver. 
 
 The cook had found wild yams and bread-fruit, 
 which took the edge off the salt meat, and the grog 
 was served faithfully three times a day : but the next 
 day was Sunday, and they appealed to the religious 
 and physiological law of the world for a day s rest 
 which was denied them and in the ensuing argument 
 lost another of their number Shorty, it was and 
 they dragged the carpenter s chest up the hill, burying 
 Shorty on the way, without prayers, and returned for 
 the two lower yards. This job used up the day, and 
 as they tied up their wounds with rope-yarns and tar 
 that night they talked with the cook about poisoning 
 the after-guard. The cook refused ; it was unpro 
 fessional, and he had no poison ; but, as a result of 
 the discussion, which was not whispered, Yank Tate 
 moved his goods and bedding into the cabin. For 
 they re kinder displeased, cappen, he said, and very 
 unreasonable ; and they might get into my shop when 
 I m asleep and do something they d be sorry for 
 arter wards. 
 
 In the morning they rigged sheers over the bow of 
 the junk (which, like the brig, pointed down hill) of 
 the fore and main yards, lashing the upper ends, and 
 sinking the lower in socket-holes in a couple of 
 fenders. At the sheer-head they lashed two three 
 fold blocks, each as large as a small trunk, and to a 
 stump near the heel a rouse-about, or heavy snatch- 
 block, to take the hauling part of the eight-inch 
 hawser they would use as a lifting tackle. The lower 
 blocks of this tackle they would secure to a shot of 
 
 342 
 
Honour among Thieves 
 
 anchor-chain which they were to pass under the bow. 
 And this was a job at which their souls revolted, for 
 they were forced to burrow under the junk with 
 knives, as there were no spades in the brig. If the 
 Chinamen possessed them, they made no sign, but 
 hung over the rail and guyed them in derisive panto 
 mime. 
 
 They took turns at the muddy task, and the mud 
 dried on them, layer over layer, for no time was 
 allowed them to clean up. And as only four could 
 work at a time at this, the rest, after reeving off the 
 big tackle, busied themselves in cutting down palm- 
 trees, flattening the trunks for ways (or rails), and in 
 ripping up deck-planks and dragging them up the hill 
 for cradles. This work was not done in a day it took 
 several ; and they laboured in the hot sun, teased by 
 their sores, policed continually by the captain or mate, 
 and on a short allowance of water, for several tanks 
 had been demolished in the wreck. But at last the 
 holes were dug and the chain passed under the bow, 
 through the rings of the lower blocks, and secured. 
 Then they hauled the twelve-part tackle hand-taut to 
 a palm-tree, clapped a tackle to the hauling part close 
 to the sheers, another on the hauling part of this, and 
 thus, luff upon luff, they quadrupled their power, 
 until, with five tackles rigged to five trees, Captain 
 Swarth decided that his men could lift the bow of a 
 hundred-foot junk. 
 
 And they did. Under his stinging objurgations, 
 backed by the flourished pistol, they swung on the fall 
 of the last tackle, shifting up when blocks came home, 
 sweating, cursing, and complaining, while the painted 
 eyes in the bow glared at them, and twoscore China 
 men grinned down on them and added their weight. 
 Up came the bow, a quarter inch at a heave, until 
 high enough for Yank Tate to block up the forefoot 
 (she had no keel) with fenders. Then they slacked 
 
 343 
 
Honour among Thieves 
 
 her down on the blocks, shifted the sheers and the 
 gear to the stern, and repeated the operation. 
 
 With the junk resting on blocks, the next step was 
 to build two cradles to fit the bottom. The men 
 rigged the ways under Yank Tate s supervision, while 
 he himself fashioned the cradles of the deck-planks 
 and the halves of anchor-stocks, which, flat sides 
 down, and cleated, were to rest on the ways. When 
 all was ready cradles in place, and the ways beneath 
 pinned down, trussed, and well greased they knocked 
 away the blocks, and she rested on the cradles. The 
 ways led ahead in several sections, each section scarfed 
 at the ends so that those left behind could be shifted 
 in front as the junk travelled down. With a slack 
 stern-line out to a tree, they pulled on a tackle leading 
 ahead, and the craft, amid the squealing of her crew, 
 slid forward until brought up by the hawser astern. 
 This was encouraging, and for a moment the under 
 lying sailor sentiment dominated, and the men gave a 
 rousing cheer. But when the next step was given out 
 chopping down trees and clearing away stumps 
 the sailor died out of them, and Mr. Todd remained 
 up in his watch below to assist the captain in clubbing 
 them into obedience. 
 
 Captain Swarth was loath to shoot them, recognising 
 that there was more of death-potential in three bullets 
 against fifteen men (the cook had assumed an armed 
 neutrality) than in two against fourteen, or one against 
 thirteen. So the three bullets were held in reserve, 
 and Mr. Todd s assertion that one handspike was 
 worth a dozen of em was acted on. And Yank 
 Tate flourished his broad-axe, and they went to work 
 with aching heads and blue spots on their several 
 skins, and in three days had cleared a track half-way 
 to the beach, where a deep gully and a stretch of 
 swampy ground beyond sent them back for instruc 
 tions. They received them. They would trim off 
 
 344 
 
Honour among Thieves 
 
 and sharpen the trunks of the trees they had felled, 
 and as many more as were needed ; then, after the 
 carpenter had constructed a pile-driver, they would 
 sink two parallel lines of piles to support the ways to 
 the solid ground beyond. 
 
 Captain Swarth was asleep at this juncture, and 
 Mr. Todd and the carpenter received the assault, the 
 one with a handspike and the other with a top-maul 
 (a light sledge), for Yank Tate had a big, kindly 
 heart, and only threatened with his broad-axe he 
 could not use it on them ; and they retired with more 
 aches and pains, and carried one man to his bunk 
 envied of the rest for he owned a broken leg, which 
 excused him from work. The carpenter fished the 
 injured limb that night, and gave the moody men 
 words of counsel and comfort ; but what good might 
 have come of it was nullified by the mate s looking 
 down the forecastle-hatch and reviling them. When 
 he was gone they chased Yank out of the forecastle. 
 
 The pile-driver was constructed, with a carronade 
 for a hammer, which they pulled to the top by hand, 
 and then let go. The iron rings of the anchor-stocks 
 served to slip over the heads of the piles, and when 
 the ends were sawed off to a chalk-line mark, these 
 rings were split away, to be used again. It was weary 
 work, and soul-maddening torture under the scorching 
 sun on a diet of salt meat and scant vegetables, and 
 it is small wonder that responsibility left them. One 
 morning they passed the cook s body up the hatch, 
 and announced that they had punished him for negli 
 gence in procuring yams. 
 
 In answer to this the captain announced that they 
 would procure yams in their own time now, or go 
 without, and that the day s work would continue, as 
 before, from sunrise to sunset. Any further trouble 
 would result in the stoppage of the grog. They 
 charged on him, a yelling, cursing mob of toil-crazed 
 
 345 
 
Honour among Thieves 
 
 animals, who could not understand that they were 
 conquered ; and when the smoke of battle cleared 
 away, four lay dead on the deck two from bullets, 
 two from broken skulls ; for Mr. Todd was an artist 
 with a handspike, and even preferred it at close 
 quarters to fire-arm or cutlass. 
 
 With one bullet left, Captain Swarth did not hesitate 
 to stop their grog as he had promised. The work 
 went on, and for two weeks there was no trouble. 
 They hauled the junk over the trestle in this time, 
 and getting her the rest of the way was comparatively 
 easy, though they never ceased to curse and complain, 
 and the Chinamen never ceased to jeer. 
 
 But at last she lay on the beach, just above high- 
 water mark, and when the spars and sheers were 
 dragged down to her they stopped calling themselves 
 horses and talked and acted like sailors, for they were 
 close to their element, and could see the end of their 
 labours. Captain Swarth rejoiced secretly at the 
 change, but did not dare commend it openly ; they 
 might take it for weakness, and he had but one shot 
 left. So the iron-willed man maintained his iron 
 rule marshalling them back and forth, night and 
 morning, like convicts, which the mate averred they 
 were bound to become. 
 
 The spirit of resistance was nearly extinguished 
 now, but the appetite for liquor was as strong as ever. 
 It is questionable wisdom to stop sailors grog almost 
 as dangerous an experiment as stopping tobacco. 
 They worked through the forecastle bulkhead one 
 night, secured a barrel of whisky, and were immovably 
 drunk when the mate called them in the morning. 
 
 As there was no way to punish them for this but to 
 kill them, Captain Swarth allowed them to sleep it off, 
 then turned them out, with bursting heads, to strike 
 out of the hold every barrel on top of the cargo. As 
 fast as the barrels came up Yank Tate knocked in the 
 
 346 
 
Honour among Thieves 
 
 bungs and allowed the contents to run to waste. In 
 the judgment of all well-regulated pirates this was as 
 illogical a proceeding as suicide, and they began to 
 doubt the sanity of their captain. 
 
 But they went to work again. The sheers were 
 rigged and the double tackle singled to one, while the 
 carpenter dressed down and tenoned the heels of the 
 top-masts and enlarged the holes in the deck. Then, 
 with luffs on the sheer-tackle, they hoisted the brig s 
 maintop-mast and fitted it where the main-mast of 
 the junk had been in the centre. The foretop-mast 
 followed, shipping near the bows, and raking forward. 
 She ll never be anything but a junk, said Yank, as 
 he eyed the hybrid, * no matter how we fix her ; so 
 what s the odds ? 
 
 They wedged off the channels and chain-plates of 
 the brig, and spiked them to the sides of the junk ; 
 for, though the junk had carried no shrouds, the 
 carpenter decided that the mast- steps were too weak 
 to support the heavier spars of the brig. Then, for a 
 while, the beach looked like a rigging-loft as they cut 
 out rigging, turned in dead-eyes, and set up shrouds 
 and stays. When this was done they sent up the top 
 gallant-masts for top-masts, first sawing off and dis 
 carding the royal-masts to allow the spars to enter 
 the trestle-trees. Then came more cutting and 
 splicing, reeving off gear, and a little sail-making ; for 
 most of the canvas had been torn during the crashing 
 flight of the brig through the trees, and the foot of 
 each top-sail would drag too close to the deck, 
 necessitating the cutting off of a strip. 
 
 They rigged no bowsprit, but the fore-topmast stay 
 sail, cut down and bent to the forestay, made a handy 
 sail to box her around with, and for a spanker they 
 rigged their own, boom, gaff, and all, with a reef in it 
 to make it fit. And there she lay, complete, with four 
 square and two fore-and-aft sails, ready to launch at 
 
 347 
 
Honour among Thieves 
 
 the next high tide. As this would not be until two 
 o clock next morning, they used up the day hunting 
 for any possible leaks or weak spots in the hull ; and, 
 as the tide went out in the evening, they followed it 
 down the beach with the ways, pinning and greasing 
 them. 
 
 While this was going on, Captain Swarth and 
 Captain Lee Kin, who had become very good friends, 
 held a little confab over the quarter-rail. The out 
 come was, that when the ways were laid, the men, 
 tired as they were, would take tackles up the hill and 
 hoist out of the tween-deck the four treasure-chests, 
 drag them down, and lift them aboard the junk. They 
 did it ; and midnight coming as the last chest was 
 transhipped, they threw themselves down, like dead 
 men, on the sand, to await the time of launching. 
 
 Then it was that Captain Swarth gave way to the 
 first weakness the first feeling of pity. He had 
 nearly killed them with work ; but the work was 
 done. There was not a breath of wind, and it might 
 be dangerous to try to pass the reef at night. So he 
 spoke kindly to them, told them to turn in, and sleep 
 until high tide the next afternoon if they wished ; 
 then they could bring their clothes and his instru 
 ments, which would be their last work on the island 
 until they returned in a new ship for the barrels 
 under the cargo. He would serve out a nightcap to 
 each, and would hope that there was to be no more 
 trouble or misunderstanding. Some cheered faintly ; 
 others, too weak to cheer, shed tears; all voted him a 
 fairly good fellow at heart ; and they thankfully 
 drank the grog and turned in to dreamless sleep, 
 while Captain Swarth went to his room and Angel 
 Todd paced the deck, on watch. 
 
 An hour or so later Captain Lee Kin emerged from 
 his cabin and looked around on the moonlit ocean 
 and shadowy palm-groves. It was full high tide, and 
 
 348 
 
Honour among Thieves 
 
 the water was lapping against the bow of his junk. 
 He whistled softly down a hatch and his crew came 
 up. Picking up Yank Tate s topmaul, Captain Lee 
 reached over the bow, and with one blow he was a 
 large man and a strong man sent the starboard 
 dogshore flying. The rattling on the beach was 
 answered by a shout from up the hill. 
 
 Melican wakee up, he muttered. He stepped 
 around and released the other shore, and the junk, 
 with a quiver running through her, slid down the 
 ways, raised her bow, floated, and drifted towards the 
 reef. The crew were evidently instructed ahead ; and 
 not for nothing, perhaps, had they watched for months 
 the reconstruction of their junk, for they mounted 
 aloft, loosed the square sails, came down, and set 
 them. Then followed the staysail and spanker, while 
 Captain Lee Kin steered, under the faint breath of 
 off-shore wind, for a break in the reef, and looked 
 back occasionally at a crowd of yelling, cursing, raving 
 men on the beach. 
 
 * Melican dam fool ! he grunted. 
 
 A shot rang out only one and Captain Lee 
 observed that the crowd had split up into three 
 groups, each a whirling, heaving bunch of arms and 
 legs. Then for awhile his attention was required in 
 steering through the inlet; but, as he looked back 
 from without the reef, he saw three men, bound hand 
 and foot, hanging from the sheer-head, where they 
 writhed and twisted in the moonlight. 
 
 Cappen matee man calpentee man, he said. 
 
 The spectacle impressed him, however, and he 
 treated his own crew kindly as he sailed westward. 
 
 Six months later a gun-deck sloop, with new royals 
 and topgallant- sails, hove to off the reef and sent in 
 a boat. The lieutenant in charge reported on his 
 return as follows : 
 
 349 
 
Honour among Thieves 
 
 We found the wreck of the brig up in the woods dismantled 
 and half burned, but no sign of the junk. There s a line of piles 
 up the hill, and ways on the beach, which go to show that they 
 launched her. We buried over a dozen grisly skeletons three 
 of them we cut down from the sheer-head and, by the looks of 
 things, they had a battle, for every skeleton gripped a knife or a 
 cutlass. It s Swarth s crowd, no doubt, and I suppose they 
 killed the poor Chinamen, fitted out the junk, then fought 
 among themselves, and the side that won got away. 
 
 But a corpulent, opulent Chinese gentleman who 
 about this time opened a princely establishment in 
 Shanghai could have given a better explanation. 
 
 THE END 
 
 BILLING AND SONS, PRINTERS, GUILDFORD 
 
Some of the stories in this volume have already 
 appeared in America, in a volume with the same title, 
 published by Messrs. Harper and Brothers. 
 
14 DAY USE 
 
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 General Library 
 
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