V 
 
 p 
 
SHIPMATES 
 
"I order you to leave my boat at once ! " 
 
 (See page 25.) 
 
By 
 
 MORGAN ROBERTSON 
 
 Author of 
 
 *' Masters of Men," "Where Angels Fear to 
 Tread," *' Spun Yarn," etc. 
 
 4* 
 
 D. APPLETON AND COMPANY 
 
 1901 
 
Copyright, 1901, 
 By D. APPLETON AND COMPANY. 
 
TO 
 
 GEOEGE HOJIAGE LOEIMEE 
 
 O 1 O9) k o 
 
CONTENTS 
 
 PAOB 
 
 The Nuisance 1 
 
 The Fool Killer 51 
 
 The Devil and his Due 73 
 
 Polarity: A Tale of Two Brunettes .... 123 
 
 A Tale of a Pigtail 159 
 
 The Man at the Wheel 175 
 
 The Day op the Dog 209 
 
 At the End of the Man-rope . , . . . 243 
 
 A Fall from Grace 275 
 
 The Dutch Port Watch 311 
 
 On the Forecastle Deck 335 
 
 vu 
 
THE NUISANCE 
 
 PAET I 
 
 Nature had endowed him with brain and the 
 essentials of manhood, but his parents, unable to 
 comprehend, had endeavoured to supplant these 
 with the education of a young lady. They par- 
 tially succeeded. At seventeen he was a credit to 
 his tutelage — as harmless and useless a prig as re- 
 fined environment can produce. His diction was 
 faultless, his dress immaculate, and his morals 
 above par. 
 
 Intended for the ministry, he had been shielded 
 from the contaminating associations of public 
 schools, and what he knew he had learned from his 
 parents, his nurse, his governess, and private tutor. 
 He knew that most people were vulgar, that incor- 
 rect speech was but little less sinful than profanity, 
 that quarrelling, even in self-defence, was shock- 
 ingly disgraceful, and that the only fit and con- 
 sistent course of action for a gentleman afflicted by 
 sudden assault was to turn the unsmitten cheek to 
 
 1 
 
Shipmates 
 
 -f-rJ- 
 
 the smiter. He knew that women were good in a 
 ratio commensurate with their beauty — that while 
 an old or ill-favoured woman might be vengeful and 
 dishonest, it was manifestly impossible for a young 
 and charming girl to have a wicked thought or mo- 
 tive. As he had no sisters, and his intercourse 
 with young ladies usually began and ended with 
 the lifting of his hat, it was easy for him to know 
 this. 
 
 He knew a few other things of no account, and 
 the list of practical things which he did not know 
 is beyond enumeration. In time he learned and 
 unlearned a great many, but this concept of wom- 
 ankind, born of his seclusion, nourished by a strong 
 romantic fancy, and proven conclusively by his 
 carefully selected literature — which told only of 
 the good, the pure and the beautiful — made an 
 impress on his mind that was never thoroughly 
 effaced. 
 
 At this stage of his development his mother 
 died, and with her going went a large part of the 
 gentle pressure that had moulded his character. 
 His abstracted and grief-stricken father, having 
 done his duty by the boy, now left him to himself. 
 So he lifted his head and looked about. Grounded 
 as he was in propriety, he used his new-found lib- 
 
 2 
 
The Nuisance 
 
 erty only in the matter of books. It was enough. 
 He read what he could not have found in his 
 father's library. Choosing at haphazard, he de- 
 voured iconoclastic philosophy, which played havoc 
 with some of his spiritual beliefs; modern political 
 economy, which told him that things were not as 
 they might be; novels which, while widening his 
 horizon, conflicted in nowise with his ideals — and 
 finally, a tale of the sea. This last opened up a new 
 world to him, and choosing no more at haphazard, 
 he drank in all printed nautical lore that was within 
 reach. 
 
 There was a strain of Norse blood in his veins. 
 Externally, it manifested itself in yellow hair, blue 
 eyes, pink skin, and promise of giant stature. In- 
 ternally, it developed in his soul, under the stimu- 
 lus of this reading, a repugnance for the humdrum 
 life laid out for him, and a thirst for travel and ad- 
 venture that brought him, at the end of a year, 
 into his father's study to announce that he would 
 not preach, that he would go to sea, and that he 
 had arranged preliminaries with the Congressman 
 of the district — even to the passing of a competi- 
 tive examination — ^f or an appointment to the Naval 
 Academy. All that he needed was his father's 
 consent and an outfit. 
 
 3 
 
Shipmates 
 
 At first astonished, then enraged, as he saw the 
 work of years undone before his eyes, the father re- 
 fused, and, in the stormy scene which followed, 
 struck the boy, who had hardly felt pain in all his 
 life. What followed was humiliating. The father 
 was larger than the son, and in his prime; but his 
 arms were pinioned immovably to his side, and he 
 was forced into a chair, while the boy, white as 
 death, save where the open hand had left its red 
 imprint, looked into his face and informed him in a 
 new voice that he wished he were not his father so 
 that he might fittingly return the blow. When re- 
 leased, the furious man gained the front door, 
 opened it, and explosively ordered the ingrate to 
 go, never to come back. 
 
 So, John Braisted left home. Whatever of 
 remorse or regret the father may have felt when 
 his anger cooled he carefully concealed. Three 
 months later, when the Congressman showed him 
 a letter from mid-ocean, full of boyish explanation 
 and complaint, he displayed as little interest as he 
 did four years after, when the same Congressman 
 — who was interested — read him a newspaper ac- 
 count of a heroic rescue at sea, in which the name 
 and description of John Braisted, Third Mate, 
 was given laudatory prominence. Still, he was 
 
 4 
 
The Nuisance 
 
 a father, and there was Norse blood in his 
 own veins. 
 
 The events and adventures — the strenuous se- 
 quence of hard knocks and hard fare that went to- 
 ward the unmaking and remaking of John Brais- 
 ted, have no place here. At the end of ten years 
 an endless chain of letters and a radiating flow of 
 money overspread the world. Consuls, commis- 
 sioners, crimps and runners, pilots and marine edi- 
 tors, where English is spoken, knew that a slowly 
 dying father would see his sailor son before the 
 end. And so, one day, the big chief mate of a big 
 in-bound ship received a newspaper clipping from 
 the pilot at Hongkong, quit his berth when the 
 anchor dropped (to the annoyance of his captain, 
 for he was a good officer), took steamer passage for 
 New York, and arrived barely in time to clasp the 
 hand of a worn and withered man and promise to 
 give up the sea. 
 
 It was not the John Braisted of ten years ago. 
 An overgrown, unformed boy, with a girl's face, 
 had gone away; a straight-limbed, square-shoul- 
 dered giant had come back — a man with a voice 
 of authority, with face the colour of old copper, 
 and hair the lighter hue of hemp — whose gait and 
 gestures suggested the grace and agility of a pan- 
 
 5 
 
Shipmates 
 
 ther, with the might of a grizzly bear. In him 
 was promise of popularity and good-fellowship, 
 and men claimed acquaintance with him. His fa- 
 ther's estate yielded him an income more than suf- 
 ficient for his wants; and with nothing to do, this 
 masterful son of the sea donned his first dress suit, 
 and, under the auspices of a fad-finding aunt whose 
 social position was impregnable, made his bow to a 
 matured metropolitan society. 
 
 Society flocked to meet the lion. Men compre- 
 hended and liked him; he joined their yacht clubs 
 and told them where they stood. Their wives, sis- 
 ters and daughters, understanding him as little as 
 he understood them, but influenced by masculine 
 praise, sought his company, tried him by their 
 tests, weighed him in their balance, and judged him 
 by their law. 
 
 In a measure he had preserved the correctness 
 of his speech and his taste in dress, but he lacked 
 the unconscious knowledge of small social form 
 which landsmen absorb with their growth and de- 
 velopment. The formulas " come and see me,'' 
 and " not at home," were truths to him at first, then 
 lies. He resented such small evasions, but over- 
 looked intentional and transparent deception. 
 Across the years of his seafaring he had carried in 
 
 6 
 
The Nuisance 
 
 his mind the childish correlation of beauty and 
 goodness. He could see no guile in the smiling 
 eyes of a bare-shouldered daughter of Eve whose 
 main object in smiling was to test the strength of 
 his armour, and who, only in her school days, could 
 have appreciated the homage he paid to her sex 
 in his direct replies and queries, his badly timed 
 comments, and his tactless silences — all arising 
 from his own shyness and embarrassment, but 
 bearing the outward semblance of arrogance. 
 
 He was vaguely conscious from the first that in 
 this hot-house atmosphere he was not as other men; 
 but, proud of his manhood, and placing but a small 
 estimate on that of these other men, he exchanged 
 no confidences and asked no advice. His aunt could 
 not safely be affronted, and there was no apparent 
 lessening of the demand for his society. ,So the 
 well-meaning victim of diverted development — the 
 product of the nursery and the forecastle — went 
 blindly and innocently on to his punishment, tram- 
 pling on small prejudice and precedent in a manner 
 not to be forgiven. 
 
 Flushed cheeks were beyond his power of anal- 
 ysis; moist and angry eyes were turned away from 
 him; just criticism never reached his ears, and his 
 confusion increased. At last the fair lion-tamers, 
 
 7 
 
Shipmates 
 
 by comparing notes and by mutual encouragement, 
 reached a verdict that even his aunt's influence 
 could not modify. Some considered him a boor; 
 others thought him intentionally hateful; but all 
 agreed that he was an utterly impossible man, who 
 smelled vilely of tobacco. Consequently they po- 
 litely snubbed him; but as he was not yet able to 
 see beneath the politeness, the lesson was lost. 
 
 Then one brave spirit pointedly ignored his 
 street greeting and watched the effect. It needed 
 a repetition before the sensitive self-conscious 
 man made sure of the animus; but, when he had 
 recovered from the shock of the experience, that 
 particular young person ceased to exist for him. 
 She delightedly and excitedly told the tale. Others 
 followed suit, and soon there was a charmed circle, 
 whose members discussed the pariah at informal 
 meetings, and into which enthusiastic, bright-eyed 
 aspirants eagerly sought entrance, as men seek ad- 
 mission to a popular club, bringing as credentials 
 the latest tale of snub. I^ot to know hinl became a 
 social advantage. Braisted, the more vulnerable 
 because of his vigorous chivalry and honest intent, 
 suffered keenly, but dumbly — and found himself 
 utterly helpless in a warfare that youth meets with 
 derision and reprisal. 
 
 8 
 
The Nuisance 
 
 The clause in his indictment regarding tobacco 
 was true. He had acquired the smoking habit at 
 sea, and in his present idleness indulged in it fre- 
 quently, through the medium of a black brier pipe, 
 which he carried with him upon all occasions. It 
 was before the time when pipes were admitted to 
 good society, and he was conscientiously careful 
 not to smoke in the presence of ladies; but his cloth- 
 ing was saturated with the fumes, and as he him- 
 self — like all smokers — was immune to the odour, 
 and as no man cared to tell him, he remained bliss- 
 fully unconscious of his atmosphere, until, one day, 
 the knowledge came to him with other information 
 in understandable terms that brought his brief 
 career in polite society to a temporary close. 
 
 It was a girl, of course — a brown-eyed girl of 
 stately mould and well-stored mind. She was a 
 few years his junior; she had not sought his ac- 
 quaintanceship, and, wiser than her sisters, showed 
 no fervid desire to give it up. Hence she possessed, 
 in time, a peculiar interest for him that bore no 
 relation to the fact that she was wealthy in her own 
 right and the daughter of a wealthier widow. As 
 his sense of isolation grew upon him, he had wel- 
 comed the mute sympathy which he found in her 
 manner and expression, and took up more of her 
 2 9 
 
Shipmates 
 
 time than she might have spared to another. Fi- 
 nally her pity for his bewilderment took the form 
 of tuition. Yielding to the maternal instinct in- 
 herent in the sex — which prompts small girls to 
 scold small brothers — she threw out delicate hints, 
 which he gladly tried to profit by. But the man 
 needed a real mother, who could do more than 
 hint. When she touched upon his atmosphere, 
 he smiled, unbelieving, and wondered at her imag- 
 ination; for his own sense of smell — or lack of 
 it — contradicted the gentle accusation. However, 
 after three smokeless days he appeared before her, 
 with hands shaking from nervous strain, and an- 
 nounced that he had given it up — for her. As 
 he wore the same clothing, she had sniffed sus- 
 piciously, and, for obvious reasons, displayed no 
 keen interest in his alleged reform. Then, in a 
 spasm of pique, he backslid, and smoked himself 
 into good health. 
 
 Her manner was guarded now, and it had the 
 effect of spurring him to a blunt statement of fact, 
 and a blunter question, to which she responded 
 with a firmly spoken '' JS'o.'^ But he would not 
 take this for an answer. Somehow, from his in- 
 adequate reading and limited experience he had 
 evolved the futile theory that a woman's " No '' 
 
 10 
 
The Nuisance 
 
 invariably meant '' Yes," and lie asked the question 
 again and again. Had he shown less anxiety as to 
 his fate, or less faith in the truth of the theory, he 
 might have won by pure persistence; for it was 
 plain that she liked him. As it was, the continuous 
 recurrence of the never-settled question — ^which 
 had become as vital to him as life itself — irritated 
 the girl beyond endurance, and at last, on the verge 
 of hysterics, she faced him with angry eyes, and the 
 storm descended. 
 
 " Why do you not let me alone? " she asked. 
 '' Why should I marry you when I do not love you? 
 More, why should I, how could I love you? Are 
 you a gentleman? ;N"o, or you would not annoy 
 me. Can you live, without comment or criticism, 
 the life I am living? N'o. You are a slave to a 
 filthy habit; you continually make yourself ridicu- 
 lous, and have made me so while I have been trying 
 to help you. Have you self-respect and ambition? 
 No, or you would not be content as you are. Have 
 you moral fibre that commands consideration? 
 You have lied to me, pitifully and trivially, about 
 your miserable pipe — for what object I can not 
 guess. You have become a veritable nuisance ! " 
 
 Then she burst into tears. 
 
 He turned and left her without a word. In the 
 IX 
 
shipmates 
 
 succeeding twenty-four hours lie experienced all 
 the emotions to which the human mind is suscep- 
 tible except joy and anger. Her words forbade the 
 one, her tears the other. He dealt his aunt insane 
 reproach; and the busy, frivolous woman, judging 
 only by externals — his handsome face and magnifi- 
 cent physique — wept copiously, and washed her 
 hands of him. Then he disgustedly packed his 
 trunk and travelled — anywhere. 
 
 With him went his pipe, and for six months it 
 never became cold during his waking hours. It 
 softened the discord of the bitter song in his brain, 
 the most jarring note of which was the word " nui- 
 sance.'^ In the end he silenced the song, but sub- 
 stituted the savage judgment on himself: " Served 
 me right. I'm an educated pig — badly educated, 
 and wholly pig." The last clause signified a hope- 
 lessness that robbed him even of the wish to please 
 — which, under the peculiar circumstances, may 
 have been good for him. 
 
 His flight from himself and his memories had 
 carried him to the wilderness, and late one sultry 
 afternoon, clad in a soiled outing-suit, and smoking 
 his pipe, he stood on the beach of a Florida lagoon, 
 studying a craft at anchor with all a sailor's criti- 
 cism. As indicated by the burgee and private sig- 
 
 12 
 
The Nuisance 
 
 nal at the trucks, it was a yacht; and indeed, be- 
 low the water-line the vessel was yacht-like enough, 
 if her lines were an index; but above, though the 
 craft was no larger than an ordinary schooner- 
 yacht, were the short ends, spars and rigging of a 
 square-rigged ship. She carried neither skysails 
 nor stunsails, and the cabin trunk extended to the 
 foremast, but in other respects, even to the stand- 
 ing spanker gaff, she was outwardly a complete 
 miniature of the old Cape Horn clippers, and with 
 her glossy black hull, varnished spars and sparkling 
 brasswork, as beautiful a craft as Braisted had 
 ever seen. 
 
 On the beach was the yacht's dingey, and on 
 the backboard in the stern-sheets Braisted read the 
 name. Argonaut. It called up recollections of 
 yacht-club gossip concerning this craft and her 
 owner — a fat, smooth-faced and effusive young 
 man named Fanwood, who had not impressed him 
 favourably when he had met him, and who seemed 
 to be as unique among yachtsmen as the Argonaut 
 was among yachts. He was — so ran the gossip — 
 possessed of an income too large for intelligent dis- 
 tribution and the smallest brain-power compatible 
 with sanity. He was a one-idea man, intensely en- 
 thusiastic about whatever occupied his mind for 
 
 13 
 
shipmates 
 
 the moment, and in his way fond of outdoor 
 sport, which prompted him to build freak yachts 
 like the Argonaut. He spoke with a natural 
 lisp, a very unnatural English accent, and radi- 
 ated a general offensiveness, due to his limita- 
 tions. 
 
 As Braisted's musings reached this point he 
 was tapped on the shoulder and a voice spoke : 
 
 ''Bwaithted, ithn't it? How d'ye do? By 
 Jove, what bringths you down here ? '^ 
 
 " Out to grass, Fanwood," he answered, as he 
 turned and shook hands. '' Knew you by your 
 yacht and your musical voice. Nothing like 'em on 
 earth. How many hands do you carry in that play- 
 thing? " 
 
 " None now — bleth the luck! I'm in a peck of 
 twouble. Whole crew quit me yetht'day — every 
 one. No one to cook or do anything. Can't get 
 away. Beathly nuisance. Telegwaphed to Fer- 
 nandina. Cedar Keys, St. Augustine — lots of 
 thailor men, no captains. Can't wun her myself, 
 you now. Bleth me, Bwaithted, what a villainous 
 pipe! Smoke that all the time? " 
 
 " Most always," answered Braisted with a 
 smile, as he blew more smoke to windward. '' Why 
 don't you send for a tug? " 
 
 14 
 
77?^^ Nuisance 
 
 ^^ Oh, that wouldn't do, don't you know; 
 wouldn't be thporthmanlike," coughed Fanwood. 
 " But I sent for twenty-j&ve thailor men. Be here 
 to-morrow." 
 
 " That's sensible. All you really want now is 
 a skipper. Let's think. I'm under promise to — 
 but, Fanwood, you have a party, I see — ladies, too. 
 Any one I know? " 
 
 " Think not. Mother ith along, and a few of 
 her fwiends. Mr. Brimm, pwesident of an anti- 
 tobacco league, and hith thon, Eugene, and 
 Mrs. " 
 
 " Hold on, Fanwood ; what made your crew 
 quit you? " 
 
 " I vow I don't know. I did evwything I could 
 for them. Sheets and pillow-cases in the berths, 
 and tablecloths, and napkins — yeth sir, each man 
 had his own napkin ring. Yet they thwore fwight- 
 fully before the ladies, and at last they mu- 
 tinied " 
 
 Braisted burst into a roar of laughter — the first 
 genuine laughter he had enjoyed for months. 
 
 " Sheets and pillow-cases! " he repeated when 
 he could. " And napkins ! Anti-smoking crank 
 aboard! Kept 'em up in their watch below to be 
 lectured to, I suppose." 
 
 15 
 
shipmates 
 
 " But it wath all for their own good/' rejoined 
 Fanwood. 
 
 " Well, now, here — got a sextant and chronom- 
 eter aboard? Or did your skipper furnish his 
 own?" 
 
 " Gueth tho. I bought evwy thing." 
 
 " Well, you suppress the services, and I'll take 
 your little ship up to Fernandina, where you can 
 look around for a skipper." 
 
 "You? Weally? Why, bleth me, yeth! I 
 heard you had been a thailor. But, have you been 
 a captain ? She's a ship, you know, and thailor men 
 are a wough lot — hard to manage." 
 
 " I'm a rough lot myself," said Braisted grave- 
 ly, " and it took me ten years to learn what I know 
 about ships and sailors. I promised my father to 
 give up the life; so I'll go aboard as your guest, if 
 you like — but, understand me, a guest with all the 
 rights and privileges of a skipper. There must be 
 no interference between myself and the men; and 
 if I give an order, to a sailor or passenger, that 
 order must be obeyed. You need a sailing-master 
 — I need a sniff of salt air. Is it agreed? " 
 
 " Thertainly — thertainly, Bwaithted; and I 
 call this a dithpenthation of Pwovidence, I weally 
 do. Where ith your luggage? That ith a pwetty 
 
 16 
 
The Nuisance 
 
 wocky suit you have on. Gueth the thailing-mas- 
 ter's uniform will just fit you." 
 
 " Will it? Well, I'll not wear your livery, just 
 the same. And as I don't go aboard to impress 
 your guests, I'll wear this rig until my trunk 
 comes. It's three miles inland at a hotel. I'll wire 
 for it." 
 
 This done, they pulled off in the dingey, and on 
 the yacht's white deck Braisted, with pipe out of 
 sight, and mental poise steadied and strengthened 
 by six months' immunity from shock and surprise, 
 bore gracefully the ordeal of a sweeping introduc- 
 tion to Mrs. Fanwood — a portly, hook-nosed wom- 
 an, who said that she was glad to know him, and 
 looked otherwise — to Mr. Brimm, the enemy of to- 
 bacco, tall, unctuous and flabby-handed, and to his 
 son, Eugene, a frank-faced youngster of eighteen. 
 But when he was presented to a kind-looking, mid- 
 dle-aged lady at the after companionway, who an- 
 nounced distinctly that she was '' very pleased to 
 make his acquaintance," speech left him; and when 
 he looked into the brown eyes of a younger, state- 
 lier woman who followed up the steps, and whom 
 the other described as '' My daughter. Miss Flem- 
 ing," he became dizzy; for he had known the mother 
 nearly as well as the daughter. The girl merely 
 
 17 
 
Shipmates 
 
 bowed to him, with eyes on the deck, and in his em- 
 barrassment he turned to Fanwood, who was now 
 explaining matters to his mother and Mr. Brimm. 
 The searching inquiry which these two made as to 
 his record and ancestry, his habits and accomplish- 
 ments, nautical and social, and as to his morals, 
 completed his collapse, but convinced him, con- 
 fused as he was, that his experience with Miss 
 Fleming was known only to her mother. 
 
 To escape the catechism, however, he desper- 
 ately asked Fanwood the location of the skipper's 
 room — and fled. Whereupon Mrs. Fanwood 
 averred that he talked like a fool and looked like 
 an idiot, and that she never would permit him to 
 take command of the yacht. 
 
 In the sailing-master's room, with heart beating 
 painfully, Braisted mopped his forehead and sat 
 down to collect his scattered faculties. " Pleased 
 to make my acquaintance," he muttered. " That's 
 my cue. Saves explaining to the rest. I under- 
 stand — I'm to keep my distance. I'll keep it, by 
 Heaven ! Recognised me in the boat — I saw them 
 — more than one woman on deck — went below to 
 consult — and then I got that — ^ Pleased to make 
 your acquaintance.' And she'll think I came 
 aboard on her account — invited myself. And Fan- 
 
 18 
 
The Nuisance 
 
 wood'll give it out that way. All right. I'll clear 
 out just as quickly. I'll take a smoke, and then — 
 "the dingey." 
 
 He filled and lighted his pipe, the old rage 
 strong upon him — the old song gathering force in 
 his brain. " Not a gentleman," he growled to him- 
 self as he puffed savagely; " ridiculous — a liar, 
 without moral fibre. I'm all that — yes, every bit 
 
 of it; but not a nuisance. I'm d d if I'll be a 
 
 nuisance ! She'll never call me that again, God — 
 bless her! " 
 
 The reactive effect of the blessing invoked by 
 his heart against the dictum of his brain brought 
 him a slight measure of tranquility, and he began to 
 take some interest in his surroundings. He noticed 
 a triangular box on a shelf which he knew con- 
 tained nothing but a sextant. Rolls of charts and 
 a tell-tale compass hung from the carlines; on the 
 bulkhead was a large aneroid barometer; on the 
 desk was the closed log-book, and in a locker — or 
 alcove in the bulkhead — the yacht's chronometer, 
 which, on examining, he found run down. He 
 opened the log-book. The last entry was two days 
 old, giving the yacht's position at noon and the 
 subsequent run to the lagoon; and in the " re- 
 marks " column was this : 
 
 19 
 
Shipmates 
 
 " All hands quit this ship to-day, having 
 brought her to a safe anchorage, because, although 
 there are enough of us to man a ship three times 
 as big, we are not allowed to smoke even below 
 decks. 
 
 " We believe we are justified by the customs 
 of the sea in bringing this floating Sunday-school 
 to port and leaving her. We take only our own 
 clothes and property. Uniforms are in the fore- 
 castle and ofiicers' rooms. 
 
 '' (Signed) John Barry, Sailing-Master. 
 
 '' George Edwards, Mate.'^ 
 
 The unconscious humour of the manifesto ap- 
 pealed to Braisted, and he laughed softly. Then 
 came the thought : " But — why — It's lunacy. 
 Whoever heard of stopping tobacco aboard ship? 
 Fanwood's fool enough, but he wouldn't hold out. 
 His mother's no fool — she wouldn't try. It's Ma- 
 bel, surely. She's a reformer — though a mighty 
 poor one — and she's undoubtedly behind this — 
 with the old man to back her up, perhaps. How, 
 though? What's her hold on Fanwood? What's 
 she doing aboard this yacht? " 
 
 A pang of jealousy whitened his face for a mo- 
 ment; but though it displaced the last trace of hi^ 
 
 20 
 
The Nuisance 
 
 anger, it left all the antagonism of hopelessness. 
 Gulping down a disconsolate exclamation, he 
 turned toward the door and his eyes rested on the 
 barometer. The reading startled him: the indica- 
 tor marked below twenty-nine. He shook the in- 
 strument, but there was no change; in another al- 
 cove he found a mercurial barometer which agreed 
 with it, and he sought the deck, but not the dingey. 
 
 It was about six o'clock in the evening, and the 
 sun, a blood-red ball, was setting in an opaque bank 
 over the land. The sultriness of the air had be- 
 come a humid stagnation which seemed to oppress 
 the breathing. What tide came and went in the 
 bay was now at slack water, and on the flat mirror 
 the little ship hovered over her anchor with chain 
 up-and-down from the hawse-pipe, while the crash- 
 ing of surf on the sea-beach of the Barrier sounded 
 faintly — as though from double the distance. 
 These were signs of a coming storm — ^not many 
 hours away. 
 
 Braisted reversed his decision to leave. 
 
 There was no immediate way of learning how 
 much chain was out, but he lifted over and cock- 
 billed the other anchor — an easy task for his broad 
 shoulders — and after satisfying himself that the 
 inner ends of the chains were secured in the locker, 
 
 21 
 
Shipmates 
 
 he procured a hand-lead and tested the bottom — 
 walking along the rail from bow to stern, paying no 
 attention to the silent observers under the after 
 awning. It was hard and soft in spots, and his mis- 
 givings were confirmed by an inspection of the 
 charts, which said that this bay was '^ Poor anchor- 
 age — shallow beds of sand over coral," and also 
 told him that Captain Barry had chosen the best 
 spot available. Then, as a final precaution against 
 trouble in the darkness of night, he went aft again 
 and took the bearings of the inlet by the deck com- 
 pass near the wheel. His activity and preoccupied 
 manner moved Fanwood to ask what troubled him. 
 
 '^ Bad weather coming," he answered as he 
 emptied his pipe over the taffrail and looked from 
 one to another of the group. '' I don't like to dis- 
 turb you, but this is the hurricane season, and we 
 may be piled up on the Barrier before morning. 
 Look there." 
 
 He pointed to the growing bank to the west- 
 ward, and all but Miss Fleming stood erect to look. 
 She remained seated, intent upon a book. 
 
 " If I had a crew," he continued, '^ I should 
 warp out through the inlet, where there is sea-room 
 to take it. Next best plan is to haul over to the 
 mainland and make the cables fast to the trees. 
 
 22 
 
The Nuisance 
 
 Do you gentlemen care to try it? It's a long, hard 
 job." 
 
 " Bleth me, no! " said Fanwood. '' It ith alto- 
 gether too laborious. Why can't we thtay where 
 we are? " 
 
 " I see no occasion for alarm/' said Mrs. Fan- 
 wood pompously. '' It looks like rain — that is all. 
 And we are safe at anchor — safe in port, I might 
 say. You surely can know but little of the sailor's 
 calling, Mr. Braisted, if you advocate leaving port 
 with a storm coming. Captain Barry, villain that 
 he was, would not have thought of it." , 
 
 " It is useless to argue about what I know, Mrs. 
 Fanwood. I judge by the log-book that Captain 
 Barry was a good seaman. He doubtless had suf- 
 ficient reason for quitting this craft. But I blame 
 the man for leaving you over bad holding ground. 
 I shall drop the other anchor, and when the wind 
 comes will pay out all the chain. The anchors may 
 possibly hold. If they drag, however, I shall slip 
 both chains and try to steer through the inlet." 
 
 " You shall do nothing of the kind, sir! " re- 
 joined Mrs. Fanwood. " The idea! And what do 
 you mean, sir, by such comment on Captain Bar- 
 ry's mutinous desertion of us? What do you mean, 
 sir?" 
 
 23 
 
Shipmates 
 
 " Young man/' interrupted Mr. Brimm patron- 
 izingly, " it is really a little surprising that you 
 should attempt to terrorize these ladies in this man- 
 ner. True, you may be alarmed yourself, but you 
 surely would not be were you the seafaring man 
 you announce yourself. I have crossed the ocean 
 many times. Believe me, sir, there is no dan- 
 ger " 
 
 " Fanwood," Braisted interrupted warmly, 
 '' there's a log-book entry that will make you the 
 laughing-stock of every yacht club from here to 
 Halifax. Why did you forbid smoking? Were 
 you crazy? Stop sailors' pay and they'll take their 
 ship out of danger. Stop their grub, and they'll 
 growl, but work. Stop their tobacco, and you'll 
 have open mutiny. Women don't know any better, 
 but you ought." 
 
 " Mr. Braisted, your language is insufferable ! " 
 spluttered Mrs. Fanwood. 
 
 " Very sorry, madam, but I'm about done talk- 
 ing." 
 
 " Bwaithted," said her son with all his scant 
 dignity, " you should wemember that as my guest 
 you should be governed by the wules of courtethy 
 common to gentlemen — ^which a mere thailing- 
 mathter is not thupposed to pwactice." 
 
 24 
 
The Nuisance 
 
 '' Perfectly right, Mr. Fanwood," he answered 
 in a white heat. '' But I am not a gentleman " (the 
 girl with the book made no sign) ; '' neither am I 
 your sailing-master or your guest. I'm the ' dith- 
 penthation of Pwovidenee/ which you called me. 
 If these ladies will go ashore, I'll go too, and stay 
 there. If not, I remain here and see them out of 
 this scrape.'' 
 
 He started forward, and as he passed the boy, 
 Eugene's eye caught his for a moment. It closed 
 slowly in a deliberate wink, which the others did 
 not see, and his own eyes gave thanks for the sym- 
 pathy. 
 
 " I order you to leave my boat at once,'^ 
 stormed Fanwood. " You are forthing yourthelf 
 on people who do not want your thothiety. You 
 mean to eat my food while you inthult my mother 
 and my gueths. You get into that boat and go! 
 Eugene will row you ashore." 
 
 He had presented an extreme view of the case, 
 which momentarily affected Braisted. He turned 
 and looked back at the group, half-minded to ac- 
 cede. But a pair of brown eyes decided him. She 
 had looked at him as she might have looked at the 
 mainmast, with no show of interest or approval; 
 but for this he would stand by her — and the others. 
 3 25 
 
Shipmates 
 
 PAET II 
 
 As Braisted leaned against the low brass rail, 
 trembling with excitement, Mrs. Fleming came 
 forward, followed by Mr. Brimm, who, however, 
 halted at a polite distance as the lady accosted the 
 new sailing-master. 
 
 " Pardon me," she said abruptly. " I judge 
 by your manner and your somewhat slighting ref- 
 erence to women that you consider us responsible 
 for the desertion of the crew. In a measure we 
 were, as we expressed freely our abhorrence of 
 tobacco, and this, no doubt, strongly influenced Mr. 
 Fanwood. My husband died of tobacco heart, and 
 my son of excessive cigarette smoking, as you 
 know " (Braisted did not know) ; " so you can 
 easily understand the attitude of myself and daugh- 
 ter toward the habit; but I assure you, Mr. Brais- 
 ted, that I did all in my power to prevent this fool- 
 ish prohibition. I know well the mastery which 
 smoking obtains over sailors, and the irritation 
 consequent on any sudden deprivation." 
 
 What Braisted might have said in reply was 
 forestalled by the approach of Mr. Brimm, who 
 had drawn near enough to hear the last remark. 
 
 " A slavish, vile and unclean vice/' he said 
 26 
 
The Nuisance 
 
 didactically. " A little effort of will — a little re- 
 gard for the cleanliness which is next to godliness, 
 and the habit could be overcome." 
 
 " Mr. Brimm," protested the lady, while Brais- 
 ted stared hard at the speaker, '' this gentleman 
 is a — this gentleman says that he is a hard smoker. 
 Please consider the subject closed. Now, Mr. 
 Braisted, tell me plainly. Are we in danger? Do 
 you think it advisable for us to go ashore? I pro- 
 posed this to my daughter just now, but she reso- 
 lutely refuses to go.'' 
 
 " Mrs. Fleming," he answered earnestly, " no 
 man can tell the strength of coming wind. The ba- 
 rometer is below twenty-nine; there is a hurricane 
 brewing; there is treacherous holding-ground be- 
 neath us, a stretch of shallow water to leeward 
 wide enough to raise a vicious sea, and a low sand- 
 spit out there over which this sea would dash and 
 wash us all into the ocean; for if the yacht drags, 
 and strikes a hard spot, she will go to pieces. This 
 much I know; but I do not know that the anchors 
 will not hold. If they do not, I shall slip them and 
 endeavour to run to sea." 
 
 " Young man," said Mr. Brimm sternly, 
 " enough of this childish and cowardly croaking! 
 You shall not frighten trusting and dependent 
 
 27 
 
Shipmates 
 
 women in this manner. You have been ordered off 
 this yacht, and you remain. I have come to en- 
 force the order. Go. I command you." 
 
 "You do? Well, I disobey your command.'' 
 Braisted's voice was quiet, but ominously high- 
 pitched. 
 
 Mr. Brimm advanced a step toward him, and 
 for a moment both men, equal in size and weight, 
 threatened, with their eyes, while Mrs. Fleming 
 clasped her hands and stepped back. But it came 
 to nothing. Mr. Brimm, possibly thinking of the 
 better part of valour, turned away, and said, 
 " Come, Mrs. Fleming. It is useless to bandy 
 words with this ruiRan.'' 
 
 And with no further word the lady accom- 
 panied him; but Braisted was past feeling hurt. 
 Moreover, he half believed he had been named 
 correctly. Yet underneath it all was a slight in- 
 crement of humiliation in the thought that Mabel 
 Fleming added to her indictment a distrust of his 
 seamanship — his one strong point. 
 
 Beyond watching his movements, the party aft 
 paid him no further attention, and while the light 
 of the evening lasted he walked about, familiariz- 
 ing himself with the running-gear and deck-fit- 
 tings. He climbed aloft and out the jib-boom to 
 
 28 
 
The Nuisance 
 
 loosen and rehitch gaskets; he descended to the 
 chain locker, unshackled the ends of the chains, 
 and secured them in a manner to be quickly- 
 slipped; then, as the blackness covered the sky, 
 he lighted the side lights and binnacle, as well as 
 a few deck-lanterns, which he left in the lamp 
 locker. 
 
 During this time he had heard the sound of 
 dishes below deck, and knew that they were eating 
 a meal to which he was not invited; but when 
 he had hoisted the dingey — which he had left to the 
 last for possible use — lashed it and the other boats, 
 and rigged in the swinging booms, he descended 
 the fore-hatch, burst in a door leading to the gal- 
 ley, and helped himself to what he found. Then 
 he lighted his pipe, noticing that his tobacco was 
 getting low, and walked the forward deck — watch- 
 ing and waiting. 
 
 About ten o'clock a slight figure crept forward 
 in the darkness. It was the youth, Eugene. 
 
 "All turned in aft?" asked Braisted. 
 
 " Yes, sir; and I turned out. Did you find 
 something to eat? Heard you smashing things. 
 Might have asked you to dinner, at least." 
 
 " Haven't much use for me, I'm afraid," 
 drawled Braisted; " but tell me, boy, why are they 
 
 29 
 
Shipmates 
 
 all so dead set against common sense? I gave good 
 reasons for expecting trouble to-night.'' 
 
 '' It's Lady Fanwood. She'll scald you yet, or 
 poison you. She won't be told anything, and you 
 dared to. Fanwood's a soft lunatic, but she's vi- 
 cious, and just as crazy. The Governor's all right 
 when you're on to his curves, but he's with the 
 powers that be, every time; and the Flemings are 
 all right — except about 'baccy. They're all luny 
 on that point." 
 
 ^^ No wonder the crew finally rebelled and 
 quit," said Braisted with a laugh. 
 
 " Yes, and Fanwood went through the fore- 
 castle and threw overboard all the old pipes and 
 stray tobacco the men had left. Then they burned 
 sulphur candles to fumigate it. Crazy — crazy as 
 bugs." 
 
 Braisted thought of his nearly empty tobacco 
 pouch, and his reserve stock ashore, wondering 
 when he would see it. 
 
 " Boy," he said after a moment's silence, " do 
 you or the others know the ropes ? " 
 
 " The Governor doesn't, and I don't think Fan- 
 wood does; but I know most of 'em — all I could 
 learn, so far, in the cruise. Always wanted to go 
 to sea." 
 
 30 
 
The Nuisance 
 
 '' Can you loose the f oretopmast-staysail, clear 
 away the downhaul, and find the halyards — all in 
 the dark?" 
 
 '^' Yes, sir; I know I can." 
 
 " We'll need that sail quickly, if we have to 
 slip." 
 
 " I'll help all I can, Mr. Braisted. Shall I stay 
 with you? " 
 
 " No; go and turn in. I'll call you all if neces- 
 sary." 
 
 The hurricane found Braisted with his hand on 
 the windlass lever. It was midnight when it came, 
 with no lightning or thunder, but with a steady 
 downpour of rain that lasted ten minutes and 
 drenched him in one. Then followed the wind, a 
 succession of hot blasts which soon merged into a 
 continuous pressure. As the yacht swung head to 
 it, he let the chain run to the end, and dropped the 
 other anchor, for he felt what he had feared — the 
 jarring vibration of the deck which tells of a drag- 
 ging anchor. Holding back the lever, he allowed 
 this chain to go as fast as it would, and in three 
 minutes a surging of the windlass said that this 
 anchor had bit the ground at the full length of 
 the chain. But to no purpose; there was no less- 
 ening of the tremors in the deck, and before the 
 
 31 
 
Shipmates 
 
 furious rush of wind the yacht drove sternward, 
 with her anchors, side by side, bounding, catching, 
 and bounding again. Then there was a sudden stop 
 to the vibrations — a creaking, grinding, straining 
 sound from the windlass, barely distinguishable 
 above the screaming in the rigging; then two sharp 
 shocks, one after the other, and the chains forward 
 of the windlass dropped to the deck and rose again. 
 Both anchors had hooked to some solid ridge of 
 coral, and both chains had parted. Turning toward 
 the forehatch, Braisted met the boy struggling up 
 against the wind. 
 
 " We're adrift," he shouted in his ear, for the 
 sound aloft was now a buzzing roar. '' Loose the 
 f oretopmast staysail while I slip the chains. Stand 
 clear as they go out the hawse-pipes. Hold on to 
 the downhaul till we're ready to hoist." 
 
 The boy answered and climbed out the bow- 
 sprit. Before he came in Braisted had released the 
 two ends of chain, regained the deck, fastened the 
 sheet and tautened the halyards. Then they set 
 the small sail — an easy pull for the boy in fine 
 weather, but a task for Braisted's giant strength 
 now; for the yacht had swung broadside to the 
 wind, and was nearly on her beam ends. There 
 was no time to flatten the sheet. Both hurried aft; 
 
 32 
 
The Nuisance 
 
 Braisted shouted in the boy's ear to stand near him 
 and watch for the inlet; for he, at the wheel, would 
 be blinded by the binnacle light. 
 
 He saw indistinctly in the darkness two figures 
 in the after companionway as he took the wheel 
 and ground it up ; and he heard voices in question- 
 ing inflection; but he answered not, and as the ves- 
 sel payed off and righted, bringing a flood of rain 
 and spindrift into the companionway, the doors 
 were shut. 
 
 Braisted never steered straighter; but, doubt- 
 ful of a compass course picked up after so much 
 sternway, he repeatedly shouted to Eugene, and at 
 last was answered. 
 
 " There's a long flicker of white ahead, and to 
 starboard," called the boy as he came close, " and 
 it's all black to port, and farther over it's white 
 again." 
 
 " Breakers on the Barrier," he answered, shift- 
 ing the wheel. " Steady me for the black 
 water." 
 
 "Now you're right — steady!" sang out the 
 boy, and Braisted met the yacht's swing and 
 steered the new course. Soon there was a wild 
 turmoil of surf, and seas climbed aboard; a tugging 
 at the rudder, telling of shallow water, and an up- 
 
 33 
 
Shipmates 
 
 roar of sound over which Braisted could just hear 
 the scream of the boy, " Port, sir! — hard a-port! " 
 He obeyed the warning as he could, for it seemed 
 that giants stronger than himself had hold of the 
 rudder. The yacht quivered in the undertow and 
 eddies, then shook herself clear and went on into 
 the blackness, while the crashing sound of break- 
 ing seas gave way to the steady humming of the 
 hurricane. 
 
 They were at sea, but with the Bahamas 
 forty miles to the eastward — a lee-shore for a 
 hundred miles of northing. Putting the wheel 
 to starboard, and lashing it, Braisted watched 
 the craft steady herself nearly in the trough of 
 the crisp, fast-rising sea. Then, telling the boy 
 to clear away the spanker gear, he opened the 
 companionway and descended into the lighted 
 after cabin. They were all there, hurriedly 
 dressed, and they met him with a chorus of pro- 
 test. 
 
 " Why do you come down here, thir, all dwip- 
 ping wet? " demanded Fanwood. " If you like to 
 thtay out in the wain, do tho, but please have the 
 conthiderwation " 
 
 " What has happened, Mr. Braisted? " asked 
 Mrs. Fleming anxiously. 
 
 34 
 
The Nuisance 
 
 '^ Chains parted; slipped them, and got her over 
 the bar. We're outside now." 
 
 " You slipped the chains after I forbade you? " 
 stormed Mrs. Fanwood. '' Then I command you, 
 sir, to take this yacht right back." 
 
 " Impossible, madam. — Fanwood, I want help 
 on deck. The yacht must carry sail whether she 
 will or not. With the maintopsail, spanker, and 
 foretopmast-staysail on her, I think she'll skim up 
 the shore in fairly smooth water. The boy's a born 
 sailor, but he isn't strong. You and Mr. Brimm 
 come up." 
 
 " JSTo, I won't. Why didn't you wait for the 
 thailors?" 
 
 " I am unfamiliar with what you ask of me, 
 sir," said Mr. Brimm. ^' Can you not dispense with 
 my presence? " 
 
 '' N'o, I can not! " said Braisted angrily. '^ You 
 ought to be ashamed. Afraid of getting wet, with 
 women depending on you! Get up on deck, the 
 pair of you! I've no time or patience to waste. 
 Up with you! " 
 
 He collared Fanwood, shook him, and launched 
 him toward the stairs. In transit, he lurched heav- 
 ily against Miss Fleming, who was seated, and 
 Braisted found grace to say, " I beg your pardon, 
 
 35 
 
shipmates 
 
 Miss Fleming." Then he turned to Mr. Brimm. 
 ^^ Will you go? " he asked in that ominous, high- 
 pitched voice. 
 
 "No, sir; I will not." 
 
 Braisted picked up a chair and held it poised 
 above his head. " I can conquer you and carry 
 you up," he said, " but, as I told you, I haven't 
 time. Start — quickly — or I'll " 
 
 But before he could finish the sentence Mr. 
 Brimm had scurried up the companionway and 
 joined Fan wood on deck. 
 
 " If I catch you two soldiering any more to- 
 night I'll have no mercy on you; now clap on to 
 that spanker outhaul," called Braisted as he 
 emerged from the companionway. 
 
 With their united strength they set the sail, 
 and when Braisted had trimmed the sheet he drove 
 them forward to flatten down the foretopmast- 
 staysail, which was shaking dangerously from the 
 yacht's closer angle to the wind. But it was not 
 close enough, and the leeway was more than the 
 headway. So, after pointing the yards — ^Braisted 
 slacking away, and the boy finding the lee braces 
 for the others — they set the maintrysail; then 
 Braisted climbed and loosed the maintopsail, de- 
 scended to help on the reef-tackles — for the 
 
 36 
 
The Nuisance 
 
 yacht was scuppers under now, and he feared 
 to carry the whole sail — and, with much men- 
 acing with a white-ash heaver, haled the two 
 landsmen aloft to reef. The boy went willingly, 
 but not so the others. As for Braisted, the 
 spirit of the sea was upon him, and he justi- 
 fied himself by the ethics of his old calling — which 
 takes no regard of personal feelings when work is 
 to be done — and by the fact that below was a 
 haughty and disdainful young woman who, when 
 he entered the cabin, had appealed to him — with 
 her eyes — but had given him scorn when he threw 
 Fanwood at her. 
 
 On the yard he did most of the work, for even 
 the courageous and quick-witted boy was too much 
 bewildered by the surroundings to do more than 
 knot reef-points after Braisted, by main strength, 
 had passed both earings; and the other two, though 
 they had gone out on the foot-rope to escape the 
 proddings of Braisted's heaver, while there had 
 surrendered completely to the terrors of the night 
 — the black void beneath, the furious buffeting of 
 wind and horizontal rain, the humming in their 
 ears which prevented their understanding Brais- 
 ted's roaring orders, and their unstable foothold on 
 a slippery rope which slanted at an angle of nearly 
 37 
 
Shipmates 
 
 forty-five degrees. Braisted pushed them along to 
 the rigging on his way to the lee earing, and left 
 them there while he and the boy finished the job. 
 Then they all descended, hauled home the sheets 
 with a watch-tackle, and hoisted the yard by means 
 of the windlass. 
 
 With the helm a-lee, the little ship now luffed, 
 lost way, fell off and gathered it, swinging within 
 three points of the compass ; and Braisted, satisfied 
 with her balance, put the boy — who said he could 
 steer — at the wheel to steady her, hove the log 
 with the aid of the others, and went below to the 
 chart, which showed him that if the wind held as 
 it was the yacht's drift and headway would take 
 her clear of the outermost of the Bahama shoals. 
 But what content might have come to him from 
 this was nullified by the discovery that his small 
 store of tobacco was ruined by the salt spindrift 
 picked up by the wind. He was wet, tired and 
 chilled, and wanted a smoke. A thorough search 
 brought none to light in the sailing-master's room ; 
 neither was there any in the mate's apartment, and 
 with a heartfelt malediction on Fanwood he marked 
 the log-book up to date and went on deck. 
 
 " Fanwood and dad have gone down," said Eu- 
 gene, as he joined him. 
 
 38 
 
The Nuisance 
 
 '' All right. Let 'em stay there. Go down 
 yourself, boy, and close all deadlights. Then 
 change your clothes and get oilskins on, if you've 
 got 'em. I'll want you on deck for a lookout. You 
 can sleep to-morrow. Tell the women we're all 
 right, and that they can safely turn in." 
 
 " Aye, aye, sir," answered the boy, proud of 
 the trust in him, as he relinquished the wheel. 
 
 " Deadlights all closed," he reported when he 
 appeared, clad in yellow oilskins. " Don't you 
 want some dry clothes, sir? Lots aboard." 
 
 Braisted did not. He wanted tobacco, and 
 wanted it tenfold because he could not get it. And 
 so he suffered through the night in his thin out- 
 ing suit, for the wind now blew cold, and listened 
 to such comment as Eugene, keeping watch beside 
 him, could deliver over the noise of the wind and 
 sea. Part of this comment was upon the fact that a 
 " fat fool like Fanwood should dare aspire to a 
 level-headed girl like Mabel Fleming." 
 
 As Braisted had been guilty of the same ambi- 
 tion, and as fellow-feeling does not always conduce 
 to sympathy, his attitude toward Fanwood became 
 such as to frighten that gentleman into speechless 
 and immediate compliance with his wishes. When 
 he appeared after breakfast, and hesitatingly in- 
 
 39 
 
shipmates 
 
 quired of the bareheaded, bedraggled and dishev- 
 elled man at the wheel as to the yacht's destina- 
 tion, he was not answered, but was sternly ordered 
 to see that his meals were cooked, and served — ^hot 
 — on the dining-room table. Fanwood hastened to 
 obey, and as his mother virtuously and indignantly 
 refused to cook for " the brute,'' and as Mrs. Flem- 
 ing was ill from the excitement, the duty devolved 
 upon her daughter; but Braisted did not know this. 
 
 The call to breakfast came from the boy when 
 he relieved him at the wheel, and as the naturally 
 embarrassed young woman failed to hear and re- 
 spond to his half-hearted " good-morning " when 
 they met at the companionway, he ascribed to 
 the failure a personal animus, and thenceforth ig- 
 nored her presence. But he was keenly alive to 
 the presence of the others. He directed Fanwood, 
 under penalty of a rope's-ending, to search the ship 
 for tobacco, and on Fanwood's reporting later that 
 there was none to be found, berated him luridly. 
 
 To Mrs. Fleming, when she appeared on deck, 
 supported by her daughter, he deprecated almost 
 pathetically the inhuman tyranny that would de- 
 prive a sailor of tobacco, and when Mrs. Fanwood 
 interrupted, argued with her on questions ranging 
 from social ethics to seamanship. In this debate 
 
 40 
 
The Nuisance 
 
 he was forced to yield the last word; for the lady, 
 clad in a warm, though condemned, fur-lined cir- 
 cular, suffered no diminution of her extensive vo- 
 cabulary, while Braisted, weakened from fatigue 
 and want of sleep, drenched to the skin, blue about 
 the lips, and shivering with cold, had entered the 
 dispute only from extreme irritation. 
 
 The boy came up at noon, and would have re- 
 mained through the day, but Braisted, after an- 
 other well-cooked meal, sent him back, saying that 
 he would need him all night. 
 
 The wind had gradually veered to the north, 
 and immense gray combers were coming down the 
 coast, lifting the small vessel to the full pressure of 
 the blast on their crests, and dropping her deep in 
 the hollows, where the becalmed maintopsail 
 flapped idly against the mast. The land to the west 
 was now a thin line of blue, and to the east a rising 
 island threatened danger. 
 
 At supper-time Braisted had decided to wear 
 ship, and had taken cross-bearings as an aid to his 
 future reckoning, when a sudden backing of the 
 wind to the northwest induced him to hold the ship 
 on the port tack pending developments. 
 
 At ten o'clock they came — a blast of icy wind 
 out of the northeast that nearly caught the ship 
 4 41 
 
Shipmates 
 
 aback, and as she payed off, a beam sea tbat threw 
 the little craft nearly on her beam ends and occa- 
 sionally swamped her. It was imperative now that 
 she be put on the other tack, and, expecting trouble 
 with his crew, Braisted gave the 'wheel to the boy 
 and sent a thundering " Wear ship ! '' down the 
 companionway. 
 
 There was no direct response, and he de- 
 scended. Excepting Miss Fleming, they were all 
 there. The cabin table had fetched away and with 
 the chairs was down to leeward, while in the cleared 
 space men and women alike stood quaking in frank 
 fear. Braisted drove the two men on deck, voicing 
 his opinion of them in severe language, and citing 
 to Mr. Brimm the manly conduct of Eugene as an 
 example to recreant fatherhood. He put them at 
 the weather braces, and the boy to leeward to slack 
 away. Then by skilful steering before the wind 
 he aided them in swinging the yards, attending to 
 the spanker himself, after grinding the wheel down 
 to round to. While in this position — the ship 
 nearly in the trough, the spanker jibed and strain- 
 ing on the sheet, and the wheel lashed down — a 
 great gray wall lifted up in the darkness on the 
 starboard quarter, dropped aboard, and washed 
 Braisted to the mizzen rigging, to which he clung. 
 
 42 
 
The Nuisance 
 
 As the sea crashed over the yacht, a figure in a 
 fur-lined circular, just emerging from the compan- 
 ionway, was also caught, upset, and shot head-first 
 and face downward half through the bars of the 
 low brass railing which extended from bow to stern. 
 Braisted heard a gasping scream, and struggled to 
 the spot just in time to catch a firm grip on a plump 
 ankle before another sea rolled over the ship. 
 
 '^ Take the wheel, boy,'^ he roared, " Steady 
 her — by the wind." 
 
 He heard the boy's answer, and saw him 
 speeding aft in the darkness. Then, securing the 
 other ankle, he exerted his strength, and landed his 
 catch, a bedraggled heap, on the deck. Inserting 
 his fingers into the tightly buttoned collar, he lifted 
 her to her feet, and marched her, still choking and 
 gasping, to the companionway. 
 
 " Now, then, old lady," he shouted in her ear 
 as he pushed her down, " I've saved your life. 
 Let me alone after this. Get off the deck, and 
 stay off! " 
 
 Eugene at the wheel had the yacht under 
 command. Leaving him there, he trimmed over 
 the f oretopmast-staysail sheet, and with the help of 
 the others pointed the yards to the wind. Then he 
 sent them down, complaining bitterly of his bru- 
 
 43 
 
shipmates 
 
 tality. The yacht now took the head sea easily, 
 and as Braisted seated himself for a few moments' 
 rest on the cabin trunk, Mrs. Fleming came up and 
 approached him. 
 
 " I have been — this has come to light, Mr. 
 Braisted," she said; " will you accept it? It is ap- 
 parent that you need it." She handed him a pack- 
 age of tobacco. 
 
 " Bless you for this, Mrs. Fleming ! " he an- 
 swered, rising eagerly. " Yes — thank you ! Thank 
 you ever so much ! I can smoke my pipe now. It's 
 nearly twenty-four hours since I've had a smoke." 
 
 Mrs. Fleming went below, and Braisted lighted 
 his pipe in the galley, coming back to tell the boy 
 all about it, and to violate the traditions of the sea 
 by smoking at the wheel. Although the tobacco 
 almost flamed in the fierce wind, and the hot smoke 
 burned the tongue of the smoker, it was blessed 
 tobacco he was consuming, and he was happy. 
 Thus they steered, watched and talked through 
 the night, cementing for life the friendship begun 
 in the sympathy of the youth, and which only 
 their common tastes, likes and dislikes made pos- 
 sible. Braisted, magnanimous from his victory 
 over the elements, was at peace with the world, 
 even though he had been on his feet for forty-eight 
 
The Nuisance 
 
 hours, and carried a rime of white salt on his hair, 
 eyebrows, and mustache. He called down bless- 
 ings on Mrs. Fleming; he forgave Fanwood — and 
 his mother — and Mr. Brimm — yes, and the girl, 
 whom he loved in spite of himself, even though she 
 had called him a nuisance. 
 
 " She can't, by any possible excuse," he mused, 
 '^ call me that again." 
 
 But she did. 
 
 And though he had forgiven Mrs. Fanwood, 
 that lady had not forgiven him. The wind mod- 
 erated before morning, and he and the boy shook 
 out the reef and put the sails on, one after the 
 other. At breakfast-time the party came up, and 
 Braisted, examining the nearby coast with the bi- 
 noculars, found Mrs. Fanwood at his elbow. 
 
 " So," she snapped, " I am to get off the deck 
 and stay off, am I? I heard that much — I heard 
 that, you low-bred rowdy! I'll see if there is law 
 in the land for you! " And down below she 
 flounced before he could reply. 
 
 Nor had Mr. Brimm forgiven him. As Brais- 
 ted stood at the wheel a little later, that gen- 
 tleman, while the others were out of hearing, 
 approached with emotion in his face that had not 
 shown there when being disciplined. 
 
 45 
 
Shipmates 
 
 '' There are certain requirements, sir/' lie said 
 haltingly, ^^ in the way of consideration for others' 
 rights which, of course, none but a gentleman may 
 understand. But there is law in the land, and, be- 
 lieve me, sir, in spite of your brutal mastery of the 
 sailor's calling, and the service you have undoubt- 
 edly done this party of people, the law is intended 
 to restrict such practices as you are guilty of; and 
 if, by chance, we meet again, I shall esteem it 
 my duty to my fellow-men to give you all the 
 rope necessary, and, when you have convicted 
 yourself, to invoke this law as quickly as possi- 
 ble." 
 
 ^^What are you driving at?'' asked Braisted 
 in amazement. 
 
 " I think I have said all that is needful. Good- 
 morning." 
 
 If Fanwood forgave him, he gave no sign. The 
 emergency past, Braisted moderated his voice and 
 manner, and Fanwood need not have crept about 
 the deck of his own yacht, too frightened to speak 
 — of the law, or other matters. 
 
 A meridian observation gave Braisted his lati- 
 tude at noon, and under a smiling sky the little 
 yacht crept toward St. Augustine Inlet, picked 
 up a tug at the entrance, and was towed up to 
 46 
 
The Nuisance 
 
 the city. Braisted and the boy clewed up the sails 
 on the way, letting them hang in the buntlines, 
 and when the yacht was docked, the tired man 
 sent a telegram for his trunk and collapsed, stag- 
 gering to the sailing-master's room like one 
 drunk. 
 
 He had been awake sixty hours, and so he slept 
 until nine o'clock of the following morning, waking 
 at the sound of a trunk being rolled into the room 
 by a man who said he was the newly engaged ship- 
 keeper. He was stiff and sore from the expos- 
 ure; but a hot soaking and rubbing down in Fan- 
 wood's bath-room freshened him, and fresh cloth- 
 ing gave him the appearance of a gentleman, 
 though he may not have felt that he had earned 
 the title. As he gained the deck, the ship-keeper 
 informed him that his breakfast was in the dining- 
 room. 
 
 " The leddy heard ye movin' sir, an' got it 
 ready," he said. 
 
 Braisted ate it alone, wondering who had 
 cooked it; then rising, and starting for the com- 
 panionway, faced Miss Fleming, standing in the 
 after doorway. 
 
 " Good-morning, Mr. Braisted," she said, with 
 a tremor in her voice. " Mother is still in her 
 
 47 
 
shipmates 
 
 room — too ill to rise; and the others have gone 
 ashore. There was no one but me to cook your 
 breakfast.'^ 
 
 " I thank you, Miss Fleming/' he answered, as 
 he bowed courteously. " It was a good breakfast, 
 and I enjoyed it. And it must be, from the fa- 
 miliar taste of the coffee, that I have eaten your 
 cooking before.'' He wondered where his old fear 
 of this girl had gone. 
 
 " You had to have food," she said with a little 
 smile, " or you could not have done what you did — 
 big and strong and brave as you are. And all the 
 others but Eugene were against you." 
 
 " All the others," he repeated vacantly. 
 
 " All but Eugene and myself. Can't you see? " 
 She advanced, flushed in the face, and nervously 
 fingered the rumpled cloth upon the table before 
 her. " Can't you see that I want to be forgiven? 
 I would not leave the yacht, hoping to talk with 
 you. Didn't you know? But everything went 
 wrong. I know I made a face when Mr. Fanwood 
 stepped on my toes; I didn't mean to. And you 
 never looked at me again. I never forgot your 
 face, John, when you went away — and you never 
 came back. And since then I've learned to think 
 differently about some things. 
 
 48 
 
The Nuisance 
 
 " And I've lost all my self-respect," she went 
 on, half crying, " or I should not be saying these 
 things. Yes, everything that I denounced in you, 
 except the smoking habit, I possess myself. I am 
 without moral fibre; I stole the tobacco from Mr. 
 Brimm's room. I thought he might have for- 
 gotten to throw it all away; so I went back to 
 the gentlemen's cabin while he was at dinner and 
 found some. I feared Mr. Brimm might suspect 
 me, and so I told him that I had seen you come out 
 of his room. I knew he couldn't hurt you, and 
 that you wouldn't care. You don't, do you? He 
 certainly must think you stole it." 
 
 ^' He does," said Braisted with an abandoned 
 grin, " and threatens law." 
 
 " And then," went on the girl, with downcast 
 eyes, " I came up to give it to you — I was going 
 to force you to speak to me — and to keep dry I put 
 on Mrs. Eanwood's circular, and I wouldn't let the 
 tobacco get wet, so I couldn't save myself, but 
 you did, and " 
 
 "Great Scott!" exclaimed Braisted. "Was 
 that you?" 
 
 "Didn't I look ridiculous — ^pulled feet first 
 through a fence? Yes, and you were terribly rude, 
 and she'll never forgive you, for she heard you, and 
 49 
 
shipmates 
 
 knew you thought that I was she. Mr. Braisted — 
 please — stop — I'll call mother. I will. Please 
 don't. Oh, you are a nuisance ! '' 
 
 But the man had got his arm around her waist, 
 and kissed her. 
 
 50 
 
THE FOOL KILLER 
 
 Originally designed for the use of a wealthy- 
 man — as a racing machine — she had shown won- 
 derful speed on her trial trip, and this, with the 
 insolvency of her prospective buyer, had induced 
 the builder to offer her to the Government. The 
 Government bought her and gave her as foster- 
 mother the sea-going battleship Argyll. She was 
 about fifty-five feet long, of the very lightest con- 
 struction, two thousand indicated horse-power, and 
 trial-trip speed of thirty-three knots, with power to 
 generate superhot steam in cold-water tubes in four 
 minutes from the time a match was applied to her 
 automatic-feed oil fuel. A dockyard made her a 
 bed on the Argyll's superstructure, fitted her with 
 four strong eyebolts in which to hook a hoisting 
 bridle, gave her a turtleback over the bow — ^for 
 looks only, as it covered nothing — a closed conning- 
 tower, a closed boiler-room for forced draft, leaving 
 the tiller free in an open cockpit and the tiller 
 chains exposed, planted a torpedo tube in her stem 
 
 51 
 
shipmates 
 
 with a Whitehead inside, and called her a third- 
 class torpedo boat attached to the Argyll as a 
 tender. The Argyll's crew hoisted her aboard, and 
 later tried her, but with her change of trade her 
 good reputation left her. 
 
 A crew was given her : Mr. Felton, a junior lieu- 
 tenant, to command, a quartermaster to steer, two 
 machinists to handle her engines, and two trained 
 experts from the torpedo division to work the tor- 
 pedoes. In a month all were replaced. The oil 
 feed blew up, burning their clothes and their cuti- 
 cle; boiler tubes blew out and scalded them; tiller 
 ropes parted at full speed and she rammed a dock, 
 throwing all hands high and dry with fractures and 
 dislocations; the Whitehead jammed in the tube 
 and the powder charge burst the breech, ruining the 
 lieutenant's new coat and his eyesight; and finally, 
 when a sea-cock opened of its own sweet will, sink- 
 ing her at the swinging boom in ten fathoms, the 
 first crew begged off. She was raised, refitted, and 
 with her second crew behaved no better; so they 
 hoisted her to her bed on the superstructure, 
 christened her the Fool Killer, and the captain ap- 
 pointed Finnegan, the ship's butt, as caretaker, and 
 washed his hands of both; for Finnegan was equally 
 useless. But in his new charge Finnegan displayed 
 52 
 
The Fool Killer 
 
 great pride when sober, spending much time scour- 
 ing her brasswork and puttering over her fittings; 
 and when he finally reported — somewhat unstead- 
 ily — to the captain that he had repaired all breaks 
 and made her seaworthy and shipshape, the latter 
 gravely appointed him captain of the torpedo boat 
 and sent him below rejoicing. 
 
 And with Finnegan rejoicing and the ship^s 
 company guying him the Argyll charged around 
 the Cape of Good Hope to the antipodes, where in- 
 ternational intrigue required her presence. Before 
 she arrived intrigue had given way to ponderously 
 polite notes, notes to ultimatums, ultimatums to 
 requests for ministerial passports, and the world had 
 risen to witness a war. But the Argyll, far from 
 her last despatches, knew nothing of the later de- 
 velopments, so it can hardly be considered her fault, 
 or that of Lieutenant Felton — officer of the deck 
 at the time — that she blundered into a squadron of 
 the enemy's ships containing one battleship as 
 heavy as herself. The rest were armoured and pro- 
 tected cruisers, four in all, none of which could 
 have withstood the Argyll's secondary battery; but 
 the battleship was a serious proposition. 
 
 It would have been unjust in a captain — re- 
 sponsible for his being officer of the deck in his 
 
 53 
 
Shipmates 
 
 half-blind condition — to blame Lieutenant Telton. 
 He had sent word below, on the authority of the 
 sharp-eyed quartermaster at his side, of the sighting 
 of the ships; and as his superiors — dallying over 
 their Christmas dinner, unaware of hostilities be- 
 gun — paid no attention, he had reported again, 
 with the enemy five miles nearer. This ended his 
 duty under the regulations, but he might have done 
 more had he been himself. He was not himself; he 
 was suffering keenly from doubt and regret and re- 
 morse. He had sent Finnegan — ^poor old Finne- 
 gan, beloved and belittled of all hands — down to 
 the sick-bay with a request to the surgeon for some 
 eye-water to relieve the pain in his eyes; and when 
 Finnegan, smelling of whisky, and vacantly for- 
 getful of his errand to the sick-bay, was caught wan- 
 dering about the superstructure an hour later, he 
 had sent again for eye-water by a responsible mes- 
 senger, and then learning that Finnegan had pil- 
 fered a bottle of sick-bay whisky and escaped with 
 no reference to eye-water, Mr. Felton had angrily 
 punished him by sending him over the side in a 
 " bosun's chair " with a swab and a bucket. A 
 later sight of the empty " bosun's chair " swinging 
 against the side had aroused Mr. Felton's doubts, 
 and a wholesale and unavailing search for Finne- 
 
 54 
 
The Fool Killer 
 
 gan by the whole watch on deck failing to bring 
 him to light had aroused his regret and remorse. 
 The poor old fellow was miles astern, surely; hence 
 Mr. Felton's condition of mind. 
 
 But his condition of mind was of small im- 
 portance compared with that of his superiors when 
 they appeared on the bridge. Mr. Clarkson, the 
 executive officer, jauntily examined the oncoming 
 ships through the binoculars, Mr. Ryerson, the tor- 
 pedo lieutenant, joked him about his eyes, and the 
 captain listened — pained and astonished — as he told 
 of the fate of Finnegan; but before a word of cen- 
 sure or comfort could come to Mr. Felton, the ex- 
 ecutive had shouted: "Battle-flags! Look at 
 them! They're stripped for action! "War must 
 leon!'^ 
 
 " Quarters, Mr. Clarkson," tersely remarked 
 the captain. " IsTo time to strip; ^^ and then, in a 
 kindly tone to Mr. Felton: " I know how you feel, 
 but — there will be more than Finnegan. Remain 
 on the bridge as my aid.'' 
 
 A gun on the leading craft — evidently the flag- 
 ship — had spoken while the captain was talking; 
 and for a short time the battleship seemed to 
 quiver with internal motion as men sprang to sta- 
 tions and machinery moved. Mr. Clarkson, first 
 55 
 
shipmates 
 
 lieutenant, went to the forward turret; the navi- 
 gating officer arrived on the bridge, where, with 
 the torpedo lieutenant, he belonged during an ac- 
 tion; and Mr. Felton entered the conning-tower. 
 Here he was to transmit orders to telephones and 
 speaking-tubes until the others were driven from 
 the bridge. 
 
 As the captain had said, there was no time to 
 strip ship for action. Guns could be manned, com- 
 partments closed, steam generated in auxiliary boil- 
 ers, hose stretched out and pumps started; but the 
 stowing of ventilators, anchors and davits, the 
 knocking down of wooden bulkheads, and the 
 throwing overboard of the boats, could not be 
 thought of. Thus, high over all, snug in her 
 chocks under the great steam crane which had 
 hoisted her, lay the Fool Killer, unharmed by the 
 furious hail of shot and shell which battered the 
 ship. 
 
 The initial gun was followed by others from 
 the four ships, which the Argyll answered. She 
 was but a mile and a half away from her enemies, 
 and at this short distance there was hardly need 
 of range-finders. Few shots from either side went 
 wild, and the Argyll rang like a boiler-shop. The 
 fire was from port broadsides, and the hostile squad- 
 
 56 
 
The Fool Killer 
 
 ron maintained the mile and a half distance while 
 it circled at full speed in a single column around 
 the Argyll, which, with engines working just 
 enough for steerage-way, turned slowly in her 
 tracks like a huge wild animal fighting for life. 
 
 But the God of Battles was with the Argyll 
 that day. As understood among her well-trained 
 ofiicers and crew, large shot and shell fire were 
 never wasted on cruisers. Thirteen-inch projectiles 
 were meant only for battleships, and the four large 
 turret guns were trained on her solid-walled proto- 
 type, who showed no sign of suffering as yet, and 
 replied with an equal weight of metal against the 
 Argyll's armour and turrets, while she drilled her 
 soft ends and superstructure with a furious storm 
 of steel from her lighter batteries. But the Ar- 
 gyll's eight-inch, six-inch, and secondary guns that 
 would bear were divided up against the three cruis- 
 ers; and this comparatively light fire was the first 
 to produce results. It was marksmanship and 
 good smokeless powder that did it; for when gun- 
 ners can see their targets, and can send small shells 
 through sponson and turret apertures to explode 
 against the opposite walls, effects are complete. 
 The rear ship of the column, with gun-fire stilled, 
 belching smoke from all ports and hatches, and 
 5 57 
 
Shipmates 
 
 steering wildly, as thougli from damaged rudder 
 gear, reeled out of range, and soon burst into 
 flame. 
 
 Mr. Felton sent the news down a speaking-tube, 
 and heard shouts of gladness as the news spread 
 in the depths; then came an injunction up the 
 tube from the ofiicer at the central station to 
 " hurry up and finish the rest, as the ship was a 
 floating morgue " ; and he repeated sadly the cap- 
 tain's remark, " There will be more than Finne- 
 gan." 
 
 The captain and the two officers had remained 
 on the bridge, sheltered from the whistling shells 
 by the double walls of the conning-tower; but now 
 the shattering among them of the stricken star- 
 board search-light induced them to enter the tower 
 and close the door. Here they learned the news 
 from below. 
 
 " True enough, Mr. Felton," answered the cap- 
 tain, as with strained, white face he peered through 
 an observation slit. " And I can never get accus- 
 tomed to this killing. It is horrid, and — and, too, 
 I am — I was a little upset. There, there! See, 
 the flagship is ablaze ! " 
 
 They looked, and verified the assertion; the 
 flagship was a splendid craft — high-sided and sym- 
 
 58 
 
The Faol Killer 
 
 metrical, fit to lead in international parades — but 
 surely doomed now for fighting out of her class. 
 She had suddenly burst into a red mass of flame 
 amidships which seemed to feed on steel, so fiercely 
 it raged. And while they looked the noise grew 
 quieter; there was less of the boiler-shop sound in 
 the clanging and crashing of projectiles, and they 
 peered through other peepholes. The battleship 
 was still hammering them, but the remaining cruis- 
 er, apparently still intact, was showing them her 
 stern and giving steam to her engines. She was 
 wise just in time; no greyhound should fight a 
 bulldog. 
 
 And gunners cheered while they again changed 
 their aim, and soon wrought marked results on 
 the battleship. Something — no one knew what, 
 though later all the big turret crews claimed the 
 credit — happened to the two heavy guns forward 
 on board the enemy. They swung in open bar- 
 bettes, not turrets, and were vulnerable to a burst- 
 ing charge just above; yet it hardly seemed proba- 
 ble that any shell exploding in the air could swing 
 those two guns around until they pointed to star- 
 board, and elevate them at different angles. This 
 much only was seen, and that the guns did not 
 come back. But a broadside of eight-inch, two 
 59 
 
shipmates 
 
 stern guns of thirteen-inch, and a whole masked 
 battery of smaller calibre guns were still at work, 
 and demanded attention. 
 
 With but one antagonist it was wisest now that 
 the Argyll move faster, and Mr. Felton, at the cap- 
 tain's order, signalled " Full speed " to the engine- 
 room; also, to satisfy his misgivings, the lieutenant 
 asked Mr. Clarkson, in the forward turret, if Fin- 
 negan had reported at his station there. The an- 
 swer was negative. 
 
 Still maintaining their broadside bearings and 
 an approximate mile and a half distance, the two 
 monsters thundered around in a circle — the Argyll 
 stronger in gun protection and efficiency, but 
 weaker in side armour and totally vulnerable in her 
 ends, which were already battered out of all sem- 
 blance to bow and stem. It was a death duel for 
 one, perhaps for both. Around they charged, 
 sputtering and roaring with quick-fire and heavy 
 turret guns. Little by little, as gun positions be- 
 hind light armour were shot away, the port battery 
 of eight-inch guns on board the enemy yielded to 
 the marksmanship of the A^-gyll's gunners, until 
 there was nothing to be seen or heard from her but 
 the belching and roaring of the two heavy after 
 barbette guns and the spitting shatter of her quick- 
 
 60 
 
The Fool Killer 
 
 fire secondary battery. Then came a moment when 
 a quiver went through the Argyll; and when it 
 had passed there was a stillness and silence that had 
 not been there — easily missed over the voice of her 
 batteries. Those in the conning-tower looked aft 
 through the slits and saw yellow smoke oozing from 
 midship ventilators, then a man, naked to the waist, 
 staggering out of a chasm that had once been a 
 companionway. He reeled a little, found his foot- 
 ing and sped forward, bursting into the tower just 
 as the captain had anticipated his message by a 
 trial of the engine-room tubes and telephones. 
 
 " Engines both gone to h — 1," he gasped. 
 ^^Half the crowd are dead, the rest dying — and 
 I'm alive, but I don't know why." He was the 
 chief engineer. 
 
 "But we've got her whipped! " sang out the 
 navigating officer joyously from a peephole; " the 
 ^fter guns are done for." 
 
 They crowded to look; the two huge rifles, 
 plainly discernible at the distance, were farther 
 apart, no longer parallel, and her quick-fire guns 
 were silent also; but there was no sign of flags 
 coming down — the toothless monster still rode 
 along, silent and sullen. Then they noticed that 
 she was turning toward them. 
 
 61 
 
Shipmates 
 
 " Going to work his starboard broadside/' said 
 Mr. Eyerson in a deprecating tone. '' No good; 
 might as well give np." 
 
 " He is not/' responded the captain, pale-faced 
 through it all. " He can ram — he is a fool if he 
 does not. "We can not avoid him, and we can not 
 penetrate his armour. See — he is steadying him- 
 self for us. All hands on deck, Mr. Felton. Give 
 each a chance to swim. The ship is doomed." 
 
 " Why — how " yelled Mr. Ryerson excit- 
 edly. " What about the torpedo boat? Can't we 
 get her over? The Whitehead's all ready." 
 
 " Get steam up in no time," added the engineer. 
 " Let's get her over, Capt'n. No need for volun- 
 teers. I'm out o' commission — Felton to steer — 
 you can spare him now. Kyerson to shoot the 
 torpedo." 
 
 " Let me go, Capt'n," said Mr. Felton anxiously. 
 ^' I can see to steer, and I was once in charge — I 
 am familiar with her." 
 
 '^ It is sure death for you all." 
 
 ^' It is death for all hands otherwise." 
 
 " Boilers are intact," said the engineer. 
 " Plenty o' steam for the crane. Give us two men 
 to ride down in her and unhook. We'll do the 
 rest." 
 
 62 
 
The Fool Killer 
 
 " Go/' said the captain gravely, " and may God 
 watch you. Have you called down for all hands, 
 Mr. Felton? No? Don't then. There will be 
 gun-fire again, and men may be killed. I will 
 call them, if necessary. Hurry, gentlemen, and 
 God help you! Quartermasters," he added to the 
 man at the wheel and the signalman listening 
 from the staircase above, " go with them and help 
 launch the boat; but you are not to go. Come 
 back." 
 
 " Very good, sir," they answered, and away 
 went the five — out on the superstructure and up 
 to the " strongbacks," where, snug and serene in her 
 chocks, lay the Fool Killer, unharmed — as though 
 the mystic symbolism of her name might have pro- 
 tected her. The engineer started her fires and 
 climbed to the platform of the steam crane; the 
 others rigged the steel-wire bridle and hooked on 
 the heavy block of the crane tackle; then the two 
 quartermasters entered the boat to unhook in the 
 water and hold her to the ship's side until the others 
 could man her. The engineer opened valves and 
 turned levers; the boat rose from her bed, swung 
 over the side and descended, while the two lieu- 
 tenants followed down the shattered superstructure 
 to join her; and before she struck the water her 
 63 
 
Shipmates 
 
 tubes were hissing with steam and the small-arm fire 
 of the oncoming battleship was resumed. 
 
 It was a terrible fire at the closer range, and 
 it was aimed low; for the work on hand could easily 
 be seen by the gunners. But, though they aimed 
 low enough to clear the engineer — vociferating 
 from the crane platform to clear away the after 
 bridlehooks first, as the Argyll was still moving at 
 a twelve-knot rate — ^they did not aim low enough 
 to hit the boat. They hit the ship and laid the 
 two lieutenants on their backs, unconscious from 
 the impact of flying steel fragments; they hit the 
 two quartermasters and killed them — both tum- 
 bling overboard; they hit the lower block of the 
 steam-crane tackle, and the boat finished her descent 
 by a drop of four feet; then, as she plunged and 
 pitched, they aimed lower and hit the small conning- 
 tower, shattering the steering-wheel within, and 
 knocked off the hatch cover which closed the deck 
 entrance to the turtleback forward. And out of 
 this hatch, as the little craft drifted astern, emerged 
 a frowsy head followed by a limp figure of uncer- 
 tain poise and motion. In the half-closed eyes 
 and in the puffed and wrinkled face were the 
 wonder and fright and bewilderment of a sud- 
 denly awakened sleeper. It was Finnegan. 
 
 64 
 
The Fool Killer 
 
 He stood up, turned around, and fell to his hands 
 and knees. 
 
 " Finnegan," roared the chief, climbing down 
 from the crane; '' Knnegan! Give her steam and 
 bring her up to the side. Turn the valve at the 
 left of the engine — draw the lever half way — slow 
 motion.'' Then he joined the captain and navigat- 
 ing officer on the bridge — safe from harm now, as 
 the other ship was firing solely at the torpedo boat. 
 The Argyll had ceased firing and the deck was 
 filling with men, smoke-begrimed, bloody and un- 
 clothed; for with the loss of the torpedo boat the 
 captain had sent the order through the ship: " All 
 hands on deck — each man for himself — stand by 
 for ramming." 
 
 It is doubtful that Einnegan in his muddled 
 frame of mind understood the order of the engineer, 
 for when it was given the Argyll's guns were still 
 speaking. Yet, somehow, out of his inner con- 
 sciousness he knew what to do. They watched him 
 crawl aft to the engine and stoop down; then the 
 little craft shot ahead with a suddenness which 
 threw him backward. He had given her full speed, 
 and she was headed straight for the Argyll's stem. 
 Men shouted at him, and he arose, scrambled for- 
 ward and peered curiously at the wreck of the 
 
 65 
 
shipmates 
 
 wheel and conning-tower. Again his inner self 
 must have guided him. With a startled glance 
 ahead at the big steel ship he was ramming, he 
 reached down and seized the slackened starboard 
 tiller-rope where it lay along the rail, and pulled 
 on it, drawing the tiller hard over. The boat an- 
 swered, and nearly hurled him overboard as she 
 heeled and circled under the Argyll's stern, barely 
 clearing by a foot. The rudder straightened as he 
 dropped the tiller-rope, and the torpedo boat Fool 
 Killer, at a thirty-knot speed, rushed away to port, 
 straight for the approaching enemy, in the face of 
 a fusillade that churned the sea into foam. And 
 then only did Finnegan seem to realize that he 
 was under fire. He scrambled aft, hurriedly and 
 unsteadily, and launched headlong into the cock- 
 pit, which screened him from sight. 
 
 ^^ What a death for any man! " said the captain 
 explosively. "Who of us would not choose it? 
 And it is given to Finnegan. Living or dead, he 
 will be a hero before the world if a man of us 
 lives to speak of this." 
 
 " No fear of it, sir," answered the navigating 
 officer. " We will all go down in the suction — too 
 far down to come back — unless — shall I order the 
 men to jump on the chance of swimming clear? " 
 
The Fool Killer 
 
 ^^Not yet; they might exhaust themselves. 
 Wait until she is almost on us. I shall go down 
 with my ship.'' 
 
 '^ I shall swim if I can," said the engineer 
 grimly, as he shed his trousers. '' I'd rather be a 
 live prisoner than a dead engineer." 
 
 Mr. Clarkson and other officers had joined 
 them; the men on deck were stripped; some held 
 tightly to cork fenders and life-buoys, some to dis- 
 connected doors, planks, gratings, and ladders, 
 brought from below; but most of them had secured 
 hammocks and removed the mattresses. All 
 watched intently the little craft speeding away 
 from them between two high waves, and the on- 
 coming monster, rushing to meet her behind two 
 mightier waves, and greeting her with a rain of 
 small shot — sixty a minute from each gun — ^which 
 bored her through and through, but seemed as yet 
 to strike no vital part. 
 
 On went the Fool Killer, and on came the 
 Fool, on parallel tracks that would leave them but 
 a hundred yards' distance in passing, until, when 
 each bore four points off the port bow of the other, 
 a vital part was struck. The watching crew of the 
 Argyll observed the torpedo tube, which had been 
 pointed dead ahead on the boat's stern, slued almost 
 
 67 
 
Shipmates 
 
 squarely around to port on its spindle by the blow 
 of a projectile; but only the trained apprehension 
 of Mr. Ryerson, who, revived, but cut and bleed- 
 ing, had crawled to the bridge, took cognizance of 
 a little puff of white smoke arising from the strick- 
 en breech, and a long, black spindle leaping from 
 its throat. 
 
 " The Whitehead's overboard," he exclaimed 
 excitedly as he hung to the bridge rail. " Didn't 
 you see it? Didn't you? I did. I'll swear to it. 
 They've aimed it themselves, and exploded the 
 breech charge. It may hit her. It may — it's just 
 about the right angle. Where's the glass? Watch 
 for the bubbles." 
 
 Nothing could be seen of bubbles at that dis- 
 tance; but it needed no glass to see the great ship 
 lift amidships a few seconds later, and to see the 
 dense masses of thick, yellow smoke and white 
 steam bursting from ports, ventilators, and the riven 
 hull. Then, while she settled low on her port 
 side, they heard a thunderous boom and a rushing 
 of steam which told of exploded magazines and 
 punctured boilers. Her gun-fire ceased, men dot- 
 ted her decks, and she came on with lessening speed 
 and a perceptibly lower bow wave, until, at a quar- 
 ter-mile distance, she buried her bow, lifted her 
 
 68 
 
The Fool Killer 
 
 stem, and dived to the depths, with the air each 
 side of her filled with men leaping from her rising 
 stern. In the chaos of whirlpools, bursting bub- 
 bles, heaving waves and wreckage which took her 
 place, could be seen a very few of these men swim- 
 ming toward the Argyll. But they did not swim 
 long. 
 
 " It is horrible ! " groaned the captain. " We 
 can not save them. We haven't a boat left." 
 
 He was trembling from the reaction of feeling, 
 and leaned heavily against the bridge rail. 
 
 " Some may reach us," said Mr. Clarkson, 
 equally unnerved. " We can pull them aboard. 
 And yet — it was the fate meant for us." 
 
 " Finnegan's luck," said the engineer. " FU 
 bet he isn't harmed. It wouldn't be consistent. 
 Where's the glass?" 
 
 " I hope so," answered the captain. Then turn- 
 ing to a white-faced and bleeding wreck crawling 
 up the stairs he said: ^^ I congratulate you, Mr. 
 Felton. We thought you were killed." 
 
 " I thought so, too, sir," answered the officer. 
 ^' And I remember at the time thinking that it 
 was a judgment." 
 
 " On account of Finnegan? " asked the captain, 
 smiling weakly. ^^ Mr. Felton, there is an in- 
 
 69 
 
Shipmates 
 
 scrutable fate behind all Finnegan's actions. Alone 
 and unaided lie has done what the whole ship's 
 company could not do. He has destroyed our 
 enemy.'' 
 
 "Is he alive?" 
 
 " Yes, by Jupiter — he is/' roared back the en- 
 gineer joyously, with the glass at his eyes. " He's 
 coming back! He's coming back! He's at the 
 tiller! Told you so. Finnegan's luck! " 
 
 They could see plainly with the naked eye the 
 little craft turning around in the distance. And 
 soon they made out the head of Finnegan rising 
 over the edge of the turtleback. 
 
 " But she's sinking," said the first lieutenant, 
 who had seized the glass from the engineer. 
 Then, after another look, he continued: " She's 
 low down — she may run under yet." 
 
 He stepped down and ordered ropes' ends, life- 
 buoys, and ladders prepared for the rescue of Fin- 
 negan; and the men responded with cheers. On 
 came the Fool Killer, nearer and nearer, and slower 
 as she came, Finnegan at the tiller in the cockpit, 
 the lapping water occasionally lifting over the mid- 
 ship rail, the engines barely moving, until at fifty 
 feet distance from the ship she gently settled under 
 and left Finnegan swimming. Twenty men sprang 
 
 70 
 
The Fool Killer 
 
 over with yells of encouragement. More would 
 have gone, but Mr. Clarkson stopped them. The 
 hero was seized, pushed and lifted toward the ship. 
 They punched him playfully and swore at him 
 lovingly; and Finnegan, who had been swimming 
 well until they reached him, was nearly drowned 
 by his enthusiastic rescuers. He swore back at 
 them, and when they slipped a bowline under his 
 shoulders and men on deck hoisted him up, he pro- 
 tested against such unseamanly treatment. They 
 sat him down on deck and he remained there, look- 
 ing about him in pained indignation and bewilder- 
 ment, swaying back and forth in a pool of water. 
 
 "Finnegan!'' yelled Mr. Clarkson over the 
 noise of cheers and shouts; ^^Finnegan, do you 
 know what you've done? Do you know you're a 
 hero?" 
 
 " Whash matter, sir? " he answered thickly as 
 he brushed his dripping hair from his eyes. 
 " Whasha throw me overboard for, sir? Who hit 
 me? " (He felt of his ribs where the bowline had 
 pinched.) "Whash all 'bout, anyway? Might's 
 well kill a man 't onsh as scare him to death." 
 
 Yl 
 
THE DEYIL AND HIS DUE 
 
 " Thank you for coming/' I said, as I rose 
 from the rustic chair under the tree; "but I see 
 there are two of you." 
 
 " But it is so improper, Mr. Somers," she an- 
 swered demurely. " Archie would come; he does 
 not approve of his sister meeting gentlemen.'' 
 
 " Archibald," I said sternly — I could not call 
 him Archie, nor could I call his Satanic Majesty 
 Satie — " I find that I am out of cigars. Will you 
 kindly take this dollar up to the ofiice and get 
 some? You know my brand." 
 
 " Cert," he responded, gleefully. He had been 
 grinning at me, leaning over the back of the chair 
 I had vacated, and now took the coin and van- 
 ished. 
 
 " Why did you give him all that money? " she 
 asked. " You know how careless and forgetful he 
 is. You might not see it again." 
 
 "Careless and forgetful! " I said, in assumed 
 6 73 
 
Shipmates 
 
 amazement. " Yes, Miss Bronson, I know; but I 
 would give much more not to see Mm again.'' 
 
 He was a fat boy; more, he was a whistling boy. 
 The combination is well known, and need not be 
 enlarged upon. Some at the hotel averred that 
 he had no mind — no soul. Others declared that an 
 imp of darkness filled the place of a soul; and 
 in this I agreed. But, as he did not need a soul, 
 and as an able imp knows something — ^knows when 
 it is not wanted — I had concluded that his soul was 
 a weakling imp, an imbecile devil cast out of the 
 lower regions because unfitted to remain. 
 
 " Please be seated," I said, taking her hand 
 and leading her to the chair. " You must know 
 why I wanted to see you alone. I'm going away 
 in a few days. I don't know when I'll see you 
 again — as things are." 
 
 Perhaps I had startled her. Her face was 
 white in the half light, and she nervously with- 
 drew her hand from mine and grasped the arm of 
 the chair. 
 
 " You must know, Annie," I went on, while she 
 slowly sank into the seat, " that under all our fun 
 and nonsense this summer I've been loving you 
 more and more every day " 
 
 " Oh! " she exclaimed in a suppressed tone that 
 74 
 
The Devil and his Due 
 
 sounded reproachful, if not angry, while she 
 gripped both arms of the chair rigidly. 
 
 " You're not offended, Annie, are you? " I 
 asked, leaning over her. 
 
 Her answer was a hysterical little scream. She 
 bounded to her feet, sprang past my outstretched 
 arms, and with a gasping " No; don't touch me,'' 
 sped into the shadows in the direction of the hotel. 
 I followed in stupefied amazement, unable to com- 
 prehend, but stopped when I heard snickering 
 laughter in the devil's voice. This gave way to 
 plaintive howls punctuated by smacks of an open 
 hand, and I knew he was getting his ears boxed. 
 
 " For deserting her at a ticklish moment," I 
 muttered, with bitterness in my soul. " She's a 
 coquette, after all. Who'd have thought it? Well, 
 here ends my worst love-affair." 
 
 I lit my pipe — cigars would not do — and puff- 
 ing savagely, struck off through the grounds to the 
 river road which led down to the sea; and there, 
 with the roar of the surf in my ears, I spent the 
 warm night in the frame of mind which comes to 
 the jilted — ^knowing what Satan felt after the He- 
 gira. At daylight, as I turned into the road on 
 the way back, I noticed a medium-sized schooner- 
 yacht in the river, with canvas furled and anchored 
 
 75 
 
Shipmates 
 
 over the shallows. There was no private signal 
 flying at this hour, but I knew her — Hooper's Sun- 
 light, back from a Gulf cruise. Fervently envy- 
 ing Hooper, I passed on. 
 
 Miss Bronson — not Annie now, just plain Miss 
 Bronson, a young lady I knew — ^was not down 
 early to breakfast, but I came upon her suddenly 
 in the passage on my way out of the dining-room. 
 Her face became red as the ribbon at her throat, 
 and her tremulous " Good-morning '' was barely 
 audible. 
 
 " Quite right,'' I thought, as I repeated the 
 greeting in my iciest tones and strode on. " It is 
 quite right, and proper, that she is embarrassed and 
 ashamed of herself. My conscience is clear." 
 
 Helped by my clear conscience, and sleepy 
 after my sleepless night, I dozed through the morn- 
 ing, waking in time for a late luncheon with less 
 pain in my heart and head, but with more of the 
 iron in my soul; and after the meal, while I talked 
 with Hooper on the veranda. Miss Bronson came 
 out with her brother. She wore the combination 
 of white and red that I had liked so well and 
 praised so often, and in her hair were flowers that 
 I had given her the day before; she was pale, and 
 the corners of her mouth twitched, while her blue 
 76 
 
The Devil and his Due 
 
 eyes held a pathetic entreaty that would have 
 brought me to her side asking, " "Why? " had noth- 
 ing happened; as it was, it hardened me the more. 
 
 " She naturally wears what becomes her," I 
 mused gloomily; " that's her business in life; and 
 IVe seen that look on her face when she has lost 
 at golf.'' Then, fancying that I had seen the same 
 look in the eyes of a cat that had lost a mouse, I 
 turned my back to her. 
 
 Her brother was approaching me; I knew that 
 by the sound of his abominable whistle. And I 
 knew by the cadence that there was something on 
 his mind. He stepped between Hooper and myself 
 — such was his habit — and faced me. 
 
 " Here's your cigar, Tom," he said. (Once in 
 a burst of confidence she had called me this name in 
 his hearing; he had henceforth adopted it.) " And 
 here's the change." He handed me the cigar — 
 fresh from the box, as I could tell by the touch — 
 and seventy-five cents in money. Then, with an 
 expression of impeccable virtue on his fat face, 
 and his lips pursed for whistling, he turned away. 
 
 " Archibald," I said solemnly, " you spent the 
 dollar last evening and have become honest under 
 assistance and compulsion." 
 
 " Well, whatcha kickin' about? " he answered 
 77 
 
Shipmates 
 
 in the querulous tone of the aggrieved. " Got your 
 money, didn'tcha? Got your cigar, didn'tcha?" 
 
 '' Archibald," I continued, " I forgive you. 
 Allow me to make over to you this perfecto. It 
 is a good cigar — easy to begin on — it will not make 
 you sick. And this money, also; take it as a 
 present. I shall undoubtedly kill you some day; 
 for you will not reform. But — we will start 
 afresh. You have done me a service." 
 
 She heard it all. The boy pocketed the gifts, 
 marched down the veranda with the high step of 
 a rooster on a wet day, drew his doubled fist over 
 his shoulder as though to hit his sister as he passed 
 her, and disappeared through the ofiice door. Just 
 within was a candy counter, and here his whistle 
 stopped. 
 
 It is unwholesome to strike — no matter how 
 deservedly — a creature you are fond of. There 
 is a never-failing rebound which smites you the 
 hardest. I watched furtively while she stared fix- 
 edly at some golfers in the distance, and saw the 
 red spots grow in her cheeks and the tears come to 
 her eyes. Then she turned and went slowly down 
 the veranda after her brother, and, could I have 
 framed an apology, or unsaid my words, I would 
 have followed; for, as surely as I knew her, I knew 
 
 78 
 
The Devil and his Due 
 
 that she had audited the young man's accounts ; and 
 as it was not a question of love or pique, but of 
 common honesty, I felt keenly my position. But 
 there was menace in those red cheeks which no 
 mere words might soften; and, besides. Hooper was 
 talking. 
 
 He was a big, jovial, sailor-like man of about 
 fifty, with a wife as jolly as himself — and as small 
 as he was big — whom he loved even more than he 
 did his yacht. He had not noticed Miss Bronson; 
 no man could do that and go on talking of yachts 
 and yachting, tide-rips and a foul hawse, a lubberly 
 crew that lost an anchor, and a tiresome lot of 
 guests who became seasick and asked wearying 
 questions. 
 
 " And theyVe all gone this morning," he said; 
 " and the skipper has fired all but three of the 
 men. They're up here after the new anchor, and 
 we'll go down in the gig with the new men he's 
 shipped. Want to get them into uniform soon 
 as possible. Others can float the anchor down on 
 a scow, and take your trunk too. I want a con- 
 genial crowd, for once. I'll get Gamble, if he'll 
 come, and over at iJ^ewport we'll find more of the 
 boys. Then we'll take in the cup races. What do 
 
 you say? " 
 
 79 
 
Shipmates 
 
 I had still a week to spare, and accepted his in- 
 vitation. While I had doubts about Gamble 
 and myself being congenial company, I did not 
 advance the objection, as I knew that Hooper liked 
 him, and I was anxious for any company that 
 would relieve me of my own. Gamble and I 
 had not quarrelled; we had merely competed for 
 the favour of the first young lady at the hotel — 
 a practical-minded miss with good looks, and a 
 plaintiveness of speech and expression that brought 
 men to her feet — ^in which contest I had won ; and 
 though I had hoped that Miss Kunyon regarded 
 the affair no more seriously than it had appeared 
 to me, there was silent reproach in the tilt of her 
 nose — troubling to my conscience — when I later 
 transferred my homage to Miss Bronson, a star 
 of the first magnitude, while Gamble hated me in- 
 tensely from the first. Afterward he again be- 
 came my rival until Miss Bronson kindly sup- 
 pressed him; but for a time, deadly in earnest, and 
 only sorry for Miss Eunyon, I returned his senti- 
 ments cordially. It was all over now; and I hoped 
 that Hooper could get us both away before he 
 learned my fate. 
 
 So, while Hooper attended to his anchor, I 
 donned my yachting suit, packed my trunk, di- 
 80 
 
The Devil and his Due 
 
 rected that it be placed aboard the scow at the land- 
 ing, and then settled my bill, conscious, as I talked 
 with the clerk, that Miss Bronson and her invalid 
 mother passed behind me. I turned on the spur 
 of the moment and lifted my cap, willing, in this, 
 our last meeting, to make amends and part on 
 good terms if possible; but my silent greeting was 
 either not seen or ignored, and with a sharper edge 
 to my humiliation, I left the hotel, revisited the 
 scenes hallowed by walks and talks with her, pitied 
 .myself immensely, and reached the landing at two 
 thirty, the time set by Hooper, in as maudlin a 
 condition as it is possible for a healthy young man 
 to be in. 
 
 Hooper was on the dock, yelling to hurry. I 
 quickened my steps, noticing that, though the scow 
 at the dock held five trunks and a group of uni- 
 formed men, there was no anchor. 
 
 '' Anchor hasn't come yet," said Hooper, " but 
 we'll go down now. N^o one aboard but the cook 
 and steward; climb in." 
 
 As I followed him down the incline to the gig, 
 I heard a familiar whistling. There, in the bow, 
 was Archibald; at the oars were four as villainous- 
 looking dock rats as ever robbed a tipsy sailor; in 
 the stern-sheets was Mrs. Hooper, smiling as ever, 
 
 81 
 
Shipmates 
 
 and, beside her, Miss Eunyon, Miss Bronson, 
 and Gamble — the latter looking uncomfortably 
 moist and embarrassed, as though he also had 
 hurried. The mills of the gods had caught us 
 both. 
 
 There was no retreat possible now, and, bound 
 not to look like Gamble, and heartened by the sight 
 of the two young ladies — armed neutrals, as I 
 knew — laughing and chatting together, I swal- 
 lowed the lump in my throat, saluted them smil- 
 ingly, and sat down, facing Gamble — grateful that 
 Mrs. Hooper was a voluble talker. 
 
 " Yes," she began, after the conventional pre- 
 liminaries, " Hooper thought he'd bring a lot of 
 men aboard — stag party, he called it — but I 
 thought different. I want some women, and I'm 
 bound to have them. If he gets more men at New- 
 port, I'll find more women. I can chaperone a 
 whole seminary, and — by the way, Mr. Somers, did 
 you know that Miss Bronson is my niece? No? 
 Strange she never told you. She told me all about 
 you." 
 
 Miss Bronson flushed at this and Miss Runyon 
 fidgeted visibly. * '' And Nellie, here," she con- 
 tinued, " I've known since she was a baby — ^knew 
 her mother at school thirty years ago — oh, I'm not 
 
 82 
 
The Devil and his Due 
 
 ashamed of my age — and I received the nicest kind 
 of a letter at New Orleans from " 
 
 " Mrs. Hooper," interrupted Miss Eunyon. 
 
 ^^ Shove off!" commanded Hooper, who had 
 taken the yoke ropes; and then, as the dock rats 
 awkwardly pushed the boat clear of the dock, 
 ^' You men want boat drill first thing — you'll get 
 it, too." 
 
 The men scowled, shipped their oars, and began 
 to pull, each in his turn. It was plain they were 
 not sailors. Gamble and I pretended to be inter- 
 ested in Hooper's harsh comments on their work, 
 and though the young ladies were certainly an- 
 noyed, the innocent Mrs. Hooper went on. 
 
 " You needn't protest, Nellie," she said, with 
 a motherly smile; ^^ you did write. That is why 
 I asked you aboard when Hooper said he was com- 
 ing. Oh, I've been young myself." 
 
 '' I assure you," I said in a generous effort to 
 relieve the pressure, " that I am exceedingly com- 
 plimented if Miss Eunyon spoke of me." 
 
 " I did not speak of you," snapped Miss Eun- 
 yon. 
 
 '' Not you, Mr. Somers," said Mrs. Hooper, 
 beaming my way. " Some one else." 
 
 " Oh — I beg pardon, Miss Eunyon." 
 83 
 
Shipmates 
 
 Then I felt the hot tingling creep up my cheeks 
 to the hair roots, and saw Gamble's mouth open in 
 sheer amazement. 
 
 " Pull together/' growled Hooper, busy with 
 his steering. 
 
 " And I didn't know he was coming," com- 
 plained Miss Nellie, " or I wouldn't have come." 
 She put her handkerchief to her eyes, and Mrs. 
 Hooper understood. She gathered the girl in her 
 arms and kissed her. Gamble and I looked into 
 each other's eyes. In his I plainly read, " She 
 means you," and I know that mine returned the 
 accusation. I had learned something; but Gamble 
 was not yet in a reasoning condition. 
 
 " I want to go back," moaned the weeping girl. 
 " I don't want to go." 
 
 " There, there, dear, never mind," said the mis- 
 guided woman. " It'll be all right. I know about 
 these things; we'll be the jolliest party that ever 
 went yachting." 
 
 If Hooper would have only interrupted at the 
 right moment it might not have gone further; he 
 looked as though about to speak, but the boy in the 
 bow got ahead of him. 
 
 " Oh, come off," he said, in his disagreeable 
 falsetto; "they're back numbers, Mrs. Hooper 
 
 84 
 
The Devil and his Due 
 
 —both got it in the neck. Nell's dead sore on 
 Gamble and don't speak to Tom in public, and 
 Sis swears if I mention Tom's name again she'll 
 choke me, and she soured on Gamble -" 
 
 " Archie ! " exclaimed Miss Bronson in ago- 
 nized tones; and then, with face aflame, addressing 
 me, she said, " I never prohibited your name, Mr. 
 Somers, or uttered that threat." 
 
 " Oh, well, you meant it," said the boy, " 'cause 
 he gimme your boodle." 
 
 " Miss Bronson," I said, with the calmness of 
 desperation, " if you will permit me I will kill 
 him now. You know I have doomed him. It is 
 inevitable, and I am willing to hang. I can hold 
 his head under the surface, and he will suffer no 
 pain. Drowning is an easy death." 
 
 " I beg you will not joke, Mr. Somers. It is 
 not the time for it. Perhaps Mr. Hooper will turn 
 back and land us." 
 
 " Not now, Miss Bronson," he answered; " not 
 until I see how the yacht is. Only two men 
 aboard." 
 
 " I'll murder him if Somers don't," growled 
 Gamble to himself; but it was heard. 
 
 " Now, now," said Mrs. Hooper, ^^ not an- 
 other word from any one, until we get aboard and 
 85 
 
Shipmates 
 
 I can straighten this out. Keep silent, every- 
 body/' 
 
 We obeyed her. Miss Kunyon dried her eyes 
 and sat up. Miss Bronson sat straighter, and 
 looked at the distance. Mrs. Hooper scanned our 
 faces with motherly concern; Hooper growled at 
 the men; the idiot in the bow whistled cheerfully; 
 and Gamble and I exchanged furtive glances until 
 our right hands involuntarily extended and met; 
 then we gripped tightly, in the fulness of frater- 
 nity and fellow-feeling; and before them all, silent- 
 ly and with grave faces, each looking over the 
 other's shoulder, we shook hands, up and down, 
 to the accompaniment of that detestable whistle. 
 
 And so we went down the river. Archibald 
 essayed to amuse us with comments on the situa- 
 tion until sternly ordered by Hooper to " dry up, 
 or go overboard." Then he subsided. Hooper 
 was palpably as angry at his wife as was possible 
 in him, but he vented it on the greenhorns at the 
 oars, becoming almost profane in his criticism. 
 And they replied in kind ; it was a warm afternoon, 
 and they made hard work of the pulling. I was 
 undoubtedly the happiest person in the boat ; for I 
 had drawn secret comfort from Miss Bronson's hot 
 denial of her brother's charge. But my happiness 
 
 86 
 
The Devil and his Due 
 
 was dashed at the side-ladder, when, instead of tak- 
 ing my politely extended right hand as an aid in 
 stepping out of the boat, she calmly and coldly ig- 
 nored it, taking instead her hand-bag — ^which I 
 had lifted as I rose — out of my left hand, and 
 ascending the ladder alone. Gamble was wisier, and 
 Miss JSTellie's disdainful face warned me not to re- 
 peat the courtesy. 
 
 Followed by Gamble, I took my diminished self 
 to the forward cabin — devoted to men — while Mrs. 
 Hooper mustered her charges into the sacred after 
 cabin — where no man may enter — and Hooper 
 drove his recruits to the forecastle, to deal out 
 their uniforms, and, I fancy, to ease his mind, for 
 we heard strong language filtering through the in- 
 tervening galley. Archibald had begun a tour of 
 inspection on deck, his surprised comments and 
 questions to himself as he came upon the different 
 deck fittings coming to our ears through the sky- 
 light. These sounds, drifting forward, ended in a 
 yelp and whinny of pain, and Gamble and I, who 
 had spoken not a word, smiled approvingly and 
 helped ourselves anew to the refreshments which 
 Hooper's well-trained steward had provided. Then 
 Hooper's heavy step sounded above, and he came 
 down the companion. 
 
 87 
 
Shipmates 
 
 '' Steward, give me a high-ball — quick/' he 
 called. " Great smoke, boys, what a job! But I've 
 a skipper who'll make sailors of them. Say," he 
 said to us as he sat down, " something's up with this 
 crowd. Don't know what, and it don't matter. 
 Mrs. Hooper's made a mess of things for once, evi- 
 dently. Wouldn't have that cub aboard for any 
 money. Caught him unlocking the windlass. 
 Asked me if it made the boat go. Told him yes. 
 
 Now, I'm d d sorry for this mix, boys, but lay 
 
 low, and I'll take 'em ashore when the men come 
 down. Wouldn't take a boat up to any dock with 
 this gang I've shipped." 
 
 " No, no. Hooper," I said. " Mrs. Hooper in- 
 vited them, and of course they didn't expect to see 
 us. The boy described us correctly — back num- 
 bers. Let them stay aboard and enjoy the trip. 
 Gamble and I will escape." 
 
 " Boys, I can't do that," he answered in some 
 embarrassment; but Gamble joined me, and we 
 argued him down. 
 
 " Well, we'll wait for developments in the 
 after cabin," he finally said. ^' Perhaps Mrs. Hoop- 
 er can straighten this out, but I wouldn't attempt 
 it. Meanwhile, suppose we get into the gig with 
 our new men and go over to the beach for a swim 
 
 88 
 
The Devil and his Due 
 
 until the others come down; then we'll know who 
 goes ashore." 
 
 We gladly agreed. There were no bathing 
 suits in the yacht, but Hooper averred that we 
 would not need them. " There's a famous beach 
 across the bay," he said, "and not a soul lives 
 within sight of it." 
 
 Archibald would have accompanied us, even in 
 the face of my warm invitation — delivered from 
 the stern-sheets of the boat as he stood at the rail — 
 to " come along and be drowned," and the ostenta- 
 tious display of a hangman's noose which Gamble 
 tied in the end of the yoke rope. But Hooper, the 
 last to enter the boat, shook his finger impressively 
 in Archibald's face, and admonished him to take 
 good care of the yacht and^lSie ladies; he was to be 
 captain until Captain Moore returned in the scow; 
 if pirates attacked the yacht he was to fight them 
 off, and if any escaped he was to pursue them; if the 
 cook and steward mutinied he was to hang them 
 at the end of the main boom. All of which Archi- 
 bald listened to, open-eyed and open-mouthed. 
 
 Before we shoved off, Mrs. Hooper appeared 
 above us and eyed Gamble and myself severely. 
 
 " What have you two been doing to my girls? " 
 she asked. " They won't talk about you — to me. 
 7 89 
 
Shipmates 
 
 They're down there with their arms about each 
 other, and all I can get out of them is that they 
 want to go ashore. If either of you have been 
 talking about one to the other, it'll all come out 
 now. They're comparing notes." 
 
 I was guiltless of this crime and Gamble de- 
 clared his innocence — in thought and word; then, 
 with Hooper grinning and the four new men mut- 
 tering, we got away. 
 
 " Please assure them, Mrs. Hooper," I called 
 back with all the dignity I had left, " that they 
 need not go ashore on our account — that Mr. Gam- 
 ble and myself intend to relieve them of our pres- 
 ence soon as is possible." 
 
 It was a long, hard pull for those undisciplined 
 dock rats, sweltering in their blue uniforms under 
 the hot, afternoon sun; and before we had left the 
 river they were frankly mutinous. Then came a 
 mile of choppy water — a deep but narrow bay to 
 the right of the river, on the opposite side of which 
 was the sandy beach ; and in this choppy water the 
 men caught crabs, splashed us, and, in general, so 
 exasperated Hooper that he declared his intention 
 of paying them off that evening. Which was cer- 
 tainly unwise; for no sooner were we undressed 
 and out to a good swimming depth than they 
 
 90 
 
The Devil and his Due 
 
 bundled our clothing, to the last wilted collar, into 
 the boat, launched it with snarls and curses, and 
 with two pulling and two standing erect, threat- 
 ening our heads with the oars, passed by us heading 
 back to the river. Hooper had caught the gun- 
 wale, but a pistol shoved into his face caused him 
 to let go. Then all four bent to the oars, and we 
 swam in. 
 
 " Come along," gasped Hooper, purple with 
 rage, " around the beach — the women — cook and 
 steward are no good — those devils have guns." 
 
 "We started for the yacht — around that four- 
 mile horseshoe of alternate sand and pebbles — 
 though I wondered as I ran what we would do 
 when we got there. There were a passenger steamer 
 and a large steam yacht about a mile out, and 
 occasional openings in the trees inland showed up 
 farm-houses and summer hotels. If any binoculars 
 were turned our way, their holders must have been 
 surprised if not scandalized at seeing three naked 
 men in such an unseemly hurry. And how would 
 Mrs. Hooper and the girls regard us — even in the 
 role of rescuers? 
 
 Hooper was an athlete, and in spite of his age 
 and size, easily distanced us. He stopped once, 
 pointed at the boat disappearing behind the point, 
 
 91 
 
shipmates 
 
 and then at a blackening of the sky inland, from 
 which forked lightning was shooting, sang out 
 hoarsely to " hurry up," and sped on. We under- 
 stood; the yacht was riding to a small anchor, and 
 was in danger from the elements, if not from the 
 thieves. Gamble and myself were evenly matched, 
 and panted and puffed in company, and in spite of 
 our sore feet — bruised and cut by the stones — broke 
 all our previous records ; but before we had reached 
 the neck of woods bordering the river road Hooper 
 was long out of sight, and the squall had come — 
 pelting us with warm, horizontal rain. " Good! " 
 grunted Gamble; "it'll keep the women below 
 decks." Though fully as modest as he, I but partly 
 concurred. The wind was down the river, and if 
 the anchor dragged it would drag downhill. 
 
 ' We crossed the river road at an angle, luckily 
 meeting no one, struck into the bushes, and reached 
 the bank abreast of where the yacht should be — but 
 was not. She was below us, drifting broadside to, 
 and we had arrived just in time to see, through the 
 thick smudge of rain. Hooper clambering up the 
 bobstays. There was no one on deck, and sick with 
 fear of what might have happened, I yelled " Come 
 on," and we raced down the bank. As we caught 
 up to the yacht we noticed empty hawse-pipes, and 
 
 92 
 
The Devil and his Due 
 
 knew that the chain had either parted at the wind- 
 lass, or had been slipped. Then, a glance seaward 
 showed us the gig with the four men pulling hard 
 to reach the shore at the left of the river mouth, 
 but unavailingly in the fierce wind. They were 
 blowing to sea. A quarter mile below the yacht 
 we dived in, swam frantically, and barely caught 
 the bobstays as she came down. Resting a moment 
 — for we were exhausted — we climbed up, paused 
 at the rail until sure of an empty deck, tumbled 
 inboard, and shot down the forecastle hatch, where 
 we found Hooper and the boy. Hooper was still 
 purple-faced, and the boy's fat countenance showed 
 signs of recent mental agitation. 
 
 '' What's happened? " I gasped, as I sank upon 
 a locker. 
 
 " Women are all right," he answered. " Locked 
 themselves in the after cabin. Forecastle's gutted 
 — skipper's room gutted — steward and cook are 
 robbed — forward cabin's cleaned out — everything 
 portable — every rag, bag, and blanket taken into 
 that gig and being blown to sea and we after them. 
 And this boy — this bright, brave, charming, lovable 
 boy — hid with the women folks, and then slipped 
 the chain to make the boat go after the pirates." 
 With his hands upon his knees, he glowered at the 
 
 93 
 
Shipmates 
 
 youth and leaned toward him, and Archibald 
 shrunk away. One ear was larger than the other, 
 and very red ; but it was not a blush. I think that 
 Hooper had laid violent hands upon him. 
 
 " "Well, how'd I know your old boat wouldn't 
 go? " he piped. " You told me I was captain. You 
 told me that thing upstairs made her go. You 
 told me to chase pirates — and they're pirates, ain't 
 they? All your own fault." 
 
 " If it wasn't for your people, I'd throw you 
 overboard," said Hooper. 
 
 " But the cook and steward? " I asked. " What 
 have they been doing? '^ 
 
 " Ashore in the dingey — gone up to a farm- 
 house after milk and butter. I wouldn't have per- 
 mitted it; but Mrs. Hooper's only a woman — a 
 good-natured, blundering fool woman. Boys, 
 we've got to get sail on the yacht and tack back 
 and forth until this blows out." 
 
 "What — as we are?" I asked, aghast at the 
 prospect. 
 
 " Just as we are," he said, firmly, " and quickly, 
 too." An increase of wind was apparent in the 
 sounds from above ; and it gave force to his words. 
 
 " Not by a jugful," I said emphatically. " One 
 of us can strip Archibald." 
 
 94 
 
The Devil and his Due 
 
 "What'U he wear, then? We'll need him, 
 too." 
 
 " Will you keep the ladies locked up? " asked 
 Gamble, as agitated as myself. 
 
 " Of course. But say, let's draw on them — 
 something to cover us — a dress, a skirt, a night- 
 gown — any old thing. I'll see what they've 
 got." 
 
 He went aft by way of the galley to consult 
 through locked doors; and Gamble and myself, six- 
 footers and broad in proportion, mutely scanned 
 each other's dimensions — busy with the same 
 thought, I know. We were thinking of those 
 slim waists aft, and the slimmer prospect of being 
 covered by anything which fitted them — except, 
 possibly, the last-named garment — which was mani- 
 festly too preposterous to be considered. 
 
 '' We might turn a dress around," stuttered 
 Gamble, '^ and put another on over it." 
 
 " Of course," I answered scornfully; " and put 
 two shirt-waists on — one in front and one behind 
 and sew up the sides. With time enough for that 
 we could make shirts and trousers." 
 
 Gamble subsided helplessly, and soon Hooper 
 appeared. 
 
 "Here," he said as he unloaded an armful. 
 95 
 
shipmates 
 
 '' Here are three mackintoshes — no sleeves, just 
 armholes and a cape. Get into 'em, quick.'' 
 
 We tried them on. At each waist line and be- 
 low they would button across; but above were three 
 white triangles of uncovered masculinity. 
 
 " Won't do," I groaned wildly. " Go get 
 something else." 
 
 " Turn 'em upside down," cried Hooper excit- 
 edly; for the sounds above were ominous. " Stick 
 your legs through, and cut armholes in the bottom. 
 We'll sew them on. Where's there a knife? 
 Archibald, give me your knife." 
 
 With the boy's knife he cut and slashed, and 
 again we tried. It was a tight squeeze, but when 
 buttoned up, and laced around our necks with a 
 length of spun-yarn, and bound in the middle by 
 a '^ soul-and-body lashing " of the same, the gar- 
 ments screened us from all but the harshest criti- 
 cism; and in this regard they were even better than 
 bathing suits, for the dangling capes reached to our 
 ankles, and the rear elevation was entirely blank- 
 eted. Then, when Hooper had impressively cau- 
 tioned Archibald to keep the knife — the only one 
 aboard — in his pocket — the only pocket aboard — 
 ready for use at any time, we went on deck. Archi- 
 bald remained below, however, and we heard his 
 
 96 
 
The Devil and his Due 
 
 contented whistle drifting aft through the galley 
 as we ascended. No danger, except the danger of 
 physical pain, could disturb this youth. 
 
 The shore was hidden. Darkness was closing 
 down, and nothing but a circular patch of angry 
 water of which the yacht was the centre could now 
 be seen. Sea and sky were merged, and above was 
 a hollow hemisphere of gray, of no great dimen- 
 sions, from one side of which came a driving pres- 
 sure of wind and a furious bombardment of rain 
 and spindrift, while in our ears was the humming, 
 roaring, singing sound of the wind in the rigging. 
 The yacht was heeled — starboard side to the blast — 
 and, short as had been the time for it, vicious waves 
 were already pounding her. We were clear of the 
 river, and at sea. Gamble and I were yachtsmen, 
 and knew the ropes. Under Hooper's directions 
 we loosed the staysail, jib, and mainsail, putting a 
 double reef in the latter, and with Archibald hold- 
 ing slack (for Hooper had brazenly entered the 
 ladies' cabin and brought him up by his sorest ear) 
 we hoisted the canvas and trimmed sheets to port. 
 Then Hooper lighted the binnacle, and as he took 
 the wheel, shouted in our ears: 
 
 " Wind's a little west of north. We're about 
 five miles east of Watch Hill light. We'll make 
 
 97 
 
shipmates 
 
 hourly tacks parallel with the shore. Variation's 
 about ten degrees westerly here, and it'll be due 
 west-sou'west on one tack, east-nor'east on the 
 other — allowing for two points leeway, due west 
 and nor'east. Go down and tell the women we're 
 all right, and to fix up some sandwiches." 
 
 "No," I yelled; "I'll send Archibald." 
 
 But Archibald had already descended, and 
 Gamble also refused to go. 
 
 " Go yourself. You're married. Hooper," he 
 vociferated. " Go down yourself." 
 
 So Hooper, who had no shame, went down the 
 companionway while I steered, and when he came 
 up, the boy came with him — howling. 
 
 " Now, young man," bawled Hooper, with his 
 hand on his collar, " you're to stay on deck here 
 and do as you're told. You're to get wet to the 
 skin, and possibly catch your death, and die; but 
 until you die, you're to stay around where we can 
 get that knife — ^understand? Keep that knife 
 handy." 
 
 " I won't," he screamed. " It's my knife. 
 I'll tell my father." 
 
 He wriggled unavailingly while the knife was 
 being twisted from his pocket; and when Hooper 
 had shaken him vigorously and sat him down hard 
 
 98 
 
The Devil and his Due 
 
 on the slanting deck, he wept convulsively, and 
 called us all kinds of had names. It was really com- 
 forting to hear him weep, to such a point had his 
 porcine offensiveness brought me. Hooper placed 
 the knife on the skylight, and coming close to us 
 said: " Port side on the lower sash under the grat- 
 ing; we'll know where it is now, if we want it." 
 
 Sandwiches and coffee were passed into the fore- 
 castle and we supped hungrily; then, as we sailed 
 on, we looked for Watch Hill light; but no light 
 as much as a mile away could be seen through that 
 thick smudge, and at the end of an hour we put 
 about, steering back on the magnetic course — 
 northeast. In another hour came a lull, and a 
 partial clearing of the blinding rain, but we saw 
 no lights, and again tacked ship and headed west. 
 But no sooner were sheets trimmed down than 
 from the blackness on the weather quarter came a 
 whistling blast that nearly whipped the masts out, 
 and I at the wheel barely succeeded in bringing 
 the yacht, lee rail buried, and trembling like a 
 frightened animal, up to the wind. Then the com- 
 panion doors burst open and three figures appeared 
 and clung to the binnacle, the reflection from which 
 illumined me like a vision; and I shivered, but not 
 from cold; it was a warm night. 
 
 99 
 
Shipmates 
 
 " What is it? " cried Mrs. Hooper. " Where's 
 Hooper? " Hooper just then appeared and glanced 
 at the compass. " Hooper, I will not stay down 
 there to drown like a rat. I don't care what you've 
 got on." 
 
 '' All right, Mollie — stay up. Take the wheel, 
 if you like. Keep her shaking. We've got to reef 
 down. Only a shift of wind and a puff; but I don't 
 like it. Girls, better go below." 
 
 But they would not; they clung to the binnacle 
 and stared wildly at me; so Hooper passed a few 
 turns of rope about them and went forward to slack 
 the halyards, while Mrs. Hooper — a competent 
 helmswoman — relieved me at the wheel, and Gam- 
 ble, hiding his face, sneaked out of the darkness, to 
 join me at the main-sheet in that harrowing illu- 
 mination from the binnacle. When Hooper came 
 aft to help, a rippling duet of laughter sounded 
 over the gale; the lady at the wheel joined in, and 
 we three unfortunates tugged at the sheet, and 
 listened, and suffered. Afterward Mrs. Hooper 
 stoutly maintained that it was simply hysterics, but 
 I never quite believed it, even though Miss Bronson 
 had given voice to a piercing scream when I 
 climbed the sheet and seated myself astride the 
 boom to pass the reef -earing; for I have noticed 
 100 
 
The Devil and. his Due 
 
 that they will laugh at our direst trouble, and in 
 this ease, most certainly, no hysterics were needed. 
 
 While on the boom I saw, dimly in the dark- 
 ness, the fat figure of Archibald hovering over the 
 skylight, but in the excitement forgot his affection 
 for his knife, and did not speak of it. The reefing 
 done and the sail hoisted. Hooper induced the 
 ladies to go down, and I again took the wheel, 
 noticing that the yacht, which had been heading 
 northwest by the compass when we began reefing, 
 now headed about west — her original course — 
 though still close-hauled. Mrs. Hooper had kept 
 her by the wind, as directed. 
 
 " Wind's back again," said Hooper when I called 
 his attention to it. " It's a bad sign — means worse 
 weather. We'll make a two-hour stretch this time. 
 I want to pick up Watch Hill light, and know where 
 I am." 
 
 But the wind — which had now become a furi- 
 ous gale — veered steadily until it again blew from 
 the weather quarter; so we slackened sheets, and 
 sailed faster, while a heaving sea made steering 
 difficult. This sea puzzled Hooper, an expert in 
 such matters. " It's as though it came in from the 
 broad Atlantic," he said, " and we're on a weather 
 coast. Ought to have fairly smooth water." 
 101 
 
Shipmates 
 
 Before I could reply there came a shock, and 
 a crash, and violent vibration of the hull; then the 
 two topmasts fell to leeward — snapping short at 
 the caps and leaving the lower masts standing — 
 and the next sea swept the yacht. We were 
 ashore. 
 
 Gamble and the boy were amidships, clinging 
 to the fife-rail, but Hooper and myself were thrown 
 to the lee main rigging, where we clutched the 
 bights of ropes and saved ourselves. Before we 
 could regain our footing, however, another sea 
 crashed over the craft from squarely abeam, and 
 I heard a cry of pain from Hooper. 
 
 " Bm hurt," he gasped. " Look out for the 
 women, Somers. Keep 'em below decks — they'll 
 be washed overboard." 
 
 I scrambled for the companionway, and met 
 another sea which hurled me back to the rail. Be- 
 fore I could recover I saw a slight figure emerge 
 from below. 
 
 " Go back! " I shouted. '^ Don't come up yet. 
 Go back again." 
 
 The figure swayed unsteadily on the reeling 
 deck, and half turned; then a larger sea board- 
 ed the yacht, and I heard her scream. Then, 
 half-buried as I clung to the rail, I saw her 
 102 
 
The Devil and his Due 
 
 swept past, high over my head, and heard the 
 scream repeated in the receding hollow to lee- 
 ward. 
 
 ITot knowing which of the three it was — only- 
 knowing that it resembled Annie Bronson, I fol- 
 lowed, and when I raised my head out of that black 
 water, the yacht was an undefined blur in the dark- 
 ness, fifty feet to windward, and I was alone with 
 the merciless sea. 
 
 " Annie ! " I called, when I could speak. 
 " Annie, Annie — where are you? " 
 
 There was no answer, and the desolation of 
 death gripped my heart. Not until then had I 
 realized that I needed this girl more than life; and 
 not caring to live if she died, I swam blindly in 
 the darkness — away from the yacht. 
 
 ^^ Annie!'' I called repeatedly. "Answer. 
 Can you hear?" 
 
 There was an answer from the right — a chok- 
 ing sound; and I swam that way, in spite of my 
 embarrassing drapery making such headway that I 
 drove her under before knowing that I had reached 
 her; but I lifted her to the surface by the hair, 
 and held her head above water. Her clothing had 
 supported her thus far, and, though almost ex- 
 hausted, and hardly conscious, she was able to 
 103 
 
Shipmates 
 
 speak. But it was not the one I had thought — 
 it was Mi^s N'ellie Eunyon. 
 
 She struggled weakly, but I quieted her by 
 firmly spoken commands and directions; then, 
 holding her above and in front of me, I swam on 
 my back. We could reach the shore, I assured 
 her, and send help for the others. 
 
 But something hard and round struck my left 
 arm, and I seized it. It was the maintopmast, and, 
 as I clung to it and rested, I knew by the rushing 
 by of the seas that it was anchored to the yacht by 
 some of the gear. Cautiously pulling myself, with 
 the girl on my arm now, along to the end, I found 
 the backstay extending taut to windward, and 
 heard Gamble's voice coming down the wind. 
 
 " Gamble ! " I shouted with all my power of 
 lung. '' 0-o-o-o-oh, Gamble! I've got her — hang- 
 ing on to the topmast. Send down a line on a life- 
 buoy." 
 
 He answered with a joyous hurrah. How he 
 heard me — a hundred feet to leeward of him in 
 that fierce gale — and how he managed to float the 
 life-buoy directly within reach, I never could un- 
 derstand. But it was done in five minutes, and I 
 placed the cork ring under the arms of the limp 
 Miss I^ellie, sang out "' Haul in ! " and secured a 
 104 
 
The Devil and his Due 
 
 firm grip on the beckets. He pulled us to the rail 
 in half a minute, and dropped me the bight of the 
 rope to hold to; he lifted the girl — life-buoy and 
 all — over the rail; then, as I scrambled up in the 
 darkness, I saw him disengage that drenched and 
 helpless young lady, enfold her tightly in his arms, 
 and kiss her repeatedly on the lips, cheeks, and 
 forehead, unmindful of the seas which washed past 
 him. Then he gripped my hand and said brokenly: 
 
 " God bless you for this, Somers. I knew 
 you'd get her if any one could; but I knew you 
 couldn't get back if I went too." 
 
 "Yes, but take her below, man," I answered. 
 " She was alive when I had her; you've drowned 
 her." He carried her down. 
 
 He had almost drowned me in that rapid rush 
 through the water, and from this, or from her 
 safety after the danger, or from the kissing — I do 
 not know which — Miss Nellie was unconscious in 
 his arms. And I — I had learned something more, 
 and I climbed the sloping deck with a hazy compre- 
 hension of the irony of fate, which had brought me 
 unneeded between this young couple, while leaving 
 Miss Bronson to be rescued, possibly by Gamble, 
 who had nothing to gain; by Hooper, a practical 
 old married man ; or, perhaps, by her brother, who 
 8 105 
 
Shipmates 
 
 could only do it with the help of Providence, and 
 who would hold the feat over her head, as a club, 
 while she lived. 
 
 The yacht had been lifted to shallower water, 
 and the seas now spent most of their force against 
 the higher side before washing over the deck. I 
 found Hooper lashed to the fife-rail, weakly reply- 
 ing to the comments of the uninjured and unsub- 
 dued boy, who was proudly holding to a belaying- 
 pin with one hand and defying the sea to break his 
 grip. 
 
 " Good for you, Somers," groaned Hooper. 
 " Other two had sense enough to stay down. I'm 
 helpless — ribs stove in. She'll hold together, no 
 doubt, until daylight, and we'll be taken off." 
 
 " But how did it happen, Hooper? Where are 
 we? What land runs north and south around 
 here?" 
 
 " I don't know — I don't know. I can't make it 
 out. We ought to have been off Watch Hill Pond, 
 but not down to the reef. It can't be Block Island, 
 or Fisher's Island — impossible. I know the yacht's 
 drift under any rag she carries. It must be the 
 reef; but we're on soft bottom. I can't under- 
 stand." 
 
 I went aft and looked in the binnacle. We 
 . 106 
 
The Devil and his Due 
 
 were heading northeast, and, as the yacht was pre- 
 sumably lying parallel with the nearest land, this 
 was consistent only with our having overrun the 
 distance and bringing up on Watch Hill Reef with- 
 out seeing the light. But the seas were now board- 
 ing the yacht on the weather bow — for she had 
 swung around until her stern grounded — aijd these 
 seas came over us with the force and volume of 
 Atlantic combers, too heavy to develop in the short 
 distance from the Ehode Island shore. As it was 
 manifestly impossible for us to have missed Watch 
 Hill Eeef and reached Fisher's Island — ^far to the 
 westward — it seemed that we must have drifted 
 south and east, and struck Block Island on our 
 last westerly tack. But this meant a fifteen-mile 
 drift before making sail, and I could not ad- 
 mit it. 
 
 Gamble appeared and announced that Miss 
 Eunyon was doing well. '^ Feeble, but rather hap- 
 py," he said, grinning weakly in the light of the 
 binnacle. " And say, Somers, she's almighty 
 grateful to you, and wants to be forgiven — wants 
 me to speak for her.'' 
 
 " For what? " I asked in surprise. 
 
 " Oh, for flirting with you and throwing you 
 over. You see, her conscience is mighty active just 
 107 
 
Shipmates 
 
 now, and she thinks you may have felt badly. She 
 tells me it was to stir me up." 
 
 " Oh, the vanity of womenkind! " I exclaimed 
 sourly; "and you. Gamble, was that your object 
 in crossing my hawse, afterward? " 
 
 " Well, not exactly, Somers. I was sore, and 
 off my feed, of course; and Miss Bronson was very 
 attractive, and very kind to me. But I had no 
 chance in that quarter." 
 
 " I forgive you both," I said, severely as I 
 could. " Let it be a lesson to you. Tell her I 
 forgive her 'way down in my heart." 
 
 Then he announced a vital piece of news — the 
 water was coming into the cabin. I told Hooper. 
 
 " Keep 'em below as long as possible," he an- 
 swered. " It's better than perching in the rigging, 
 and the lower masts might go at any time. Lower 
 the mainsail and jibs; they're straining the spars; 
 and get the cartridges for the gun, and the rockets 
 from the skipper's room. Use 'em up." 
 
 We obeyed him; and for an hour, as the for- 
 ward deck sank from the disintegration of the 
 hull beneath, the signal gun barked and rockets 
 soared skyward; but there was no answering sig- 
 nal, and when the last rocket and cartridge were 
 expended the foremast went by the board; then 
 108 
 
The Devil and his Due 
 
 the ladies came up, flooded out of the cabin, and 
 we assisted them and Hooper into the main rig- 
 ging, for every sea now swept the deck. 
 
 " Unlay some strands from the gear and lash 
 us, boys," said Hooper. " One turn's enough; we 
 might want to cast off in a hurry. You, boy, go 
 down and get the knife from the skylight," he 
 called to Archibald. 
 
 " Knife ain't there," answered the youth. 
 
 "Where is it?" 
 
 " Don't know. 'Tain't there. I looked, and 
 'tain't there." 
 
 " When did you look? " I asked, suspiciously. 
 
 " Just now — 'fore we came up." 
 
 I descended, searched the skylight, and found 
 that he had spoken truly. It was gone. Then I 
 remembered seeing him at the skylight when reef- 
 ing; and knowing him well, climbed up to him. 
 
 " You took that knife yourself," I said sternly. 
 " Where is it." 
 
 " I didn't," he exclaimed petulantly; " and it's 
 my knife, anyway. What right have you got to my 
 knife, I'd like to know." 
 
 " He put something into the binnacle when I 
 was steering," said Mrs. Hooper. " Was it the 
 knife, Archie? " 
 
 109 
 
shipmates 
 
 " No, it wasn't the knife at all. I didn't put 
 anything into the binnacle.'^ 
 
 "The binnacle!" groaned Hooper. "Great 
 smoke ! Boy, if you've wrecked my yacht — Go 
 down and see, Somers.'^ 
 
 I descended again. In the after-part of the 
 brass globe, close to the compass, was the knife. 
 As I removed it the compass card swung half- 
 way round, then back, and when it had stead- 
 ied a little the lubber's point hovered at due 
 east. 
 
 " Hooper," I said, as I joined them, " he put 
 it in the binnacle, and hauled us four points north 
 of our course. We've simply piled up on the 
 Rhode Island shore, and this wind and sea are just 
 as you thought — right in from the broad At- 
 lantic." 
 
 He answered only with wheezing groans as he 
 climbed painfully toward the boy. There was ter- 
 rible menace in the slow deliberation of his move- 
 ments. I believe he would have killed him, crip- 
 pled as he was. And I prevented it — not for his 
 sake, I am free to admit; for Hooper's, and for the 
 sake of that quiet sister who crouched by his side, 
 who had spoken no word to me, whose disapproval 
 overtopped the terror of the night. I seized the 
 110 
 
The Devil and his Due 
 
 boy by the collar, wrenched him clear of the rig- 
 ging, and dropped him to the sheer-pole. 
 
 ^^ Stay down there as you value your life!" 
 I shouted. ^' Hooper, think twice. He isn't 
 worth it.'' 
 
 Hooper seemed to be choking, but he remained 
 where he was, and the boy had brain enough to 
 obey me. Fear of pain always aroused his fac- 
 ulties. 
 
 "Oh, my yacht! " gasped Hooper at last. " My 
 beautiful yacht ! Swapped for a jack-knife ! " But 
 he made no further demonstration toward Archi- 
 bald. 
 
 Gamble and I secured cork jackets for all and 
 arranged them; then we uiilaid strands from run- 
 ning gear, tied ourselves to the shrouds, and in 
 silence and cold — ^for the gale blew chilly now — 
 we passed the night in the rigging. Just before 
 daylight the weather cleared, and we saw lights 
 to leeward, moving back and forth, as though car- 
 ried by men; then in the gray of the morning we 
 saw a high shore a quarter mile away and a furi- 
 ous nest of breakers in which no mere surf-boat 
 could live and no life-boat be launched. And the 
 "Watch Hill life-savers, who had seen our signals, 
 were well aware of it; for coming down the beach 
 111 
 
Shipmates 
 
 from the westward was a f our-liorse truck carrying, 
 not a boat, but a life-car and wrecking gear. Men 
 waved their hats, and we, having none, answered 
 with our hands. 
 
 They arranged their apparatus ; a puff of smoke 
 arose from the beach, and with the report of the 
 wreck-gun came a conical shot, with a line at- 
 tached, singing over our heads. It fell into the 
 sea, and the bight of the line stretched across the 
 deck. 
 
 " Get it," said Hooper. " Haul in plenty of 
 slack from to windward, cut it, and reeve it through 
 the throat halyard block aloft to haul on. They'll 
 send out a whip and a hawser." 
 
 We followed his instructions, unreeving one 
 part of the throat halyards to make room for the 
 shot-line, and hauling on this, brought out a tail- 
 block with a rope rove through it. Secured to the 
 block was a small blackboard with the following 
 printed instructions: 
 
 " Make the tail-block fast to the lower mast, 
 well up. If the masts are gone, then to the best 
 place you can find. Cast off shot-line, see that the 
 rope in the block runs free, and show the signal to 
 the shore." 
 
 We secured the tail-block as directed, just be- 
 112 
 
The Devil and his Due 
 
 low the hounds of the mast, and waved to the men 
 on the beach. Then the rope travelled and out 
 came the end of a three-inch hawser, with another 
 tally-board which read: 
 
 " Make this hawser fast about two feet above 
 the tail-block, see all clear and that the rope 
 in the block runs free, and show signal to the 
 shore." 
 
 We followed these instructions, advised by 
 Hooper, who had climbed up and who seemed to 
 know the drill. Then out came what he called a 
 breeches-buoy — a cork ring such as Gamble. had 
 floated to me, but with four lifts supporting it to 
 a travelling block on the hawser, and a canvas 
 attachment depending from the under side resem- 
 bling in shape a pair of swimming trunks. Its pur- 
 pose was obvious — a man could get into the ring, 
 insert his legs in the breeches, and be pulled safely 
 through the surf. 
 
 " Who goes first? " I asked, thinking — I could 
 not help it, having been laughed at — of the pain- 
 ful spectacle of a lady in such a contrivance. 
 
 " The boy," answered Hooper. " I must go 
 last, and you fellows must stay by the women. 
 We'll tell him to ask the men to send out the life- 
 car and take us all at once. Mast's liable to fall 
 113 
 
Shipmates 
 
 at any time, and there are three women and a sick 
 man here/' 
 
 " Come on, Archibald/' I sang out as I de- 
 scended to him. " You're to go first. Mr. Hooper 
 won't touch you now. Come on." 
 
 He gladly climbed a few ratlins, for the seas 
 were drenching him; but going ashore in the 
 breeches-buoy was another proposition, and he flat- 
 ly refused. 
 
 I was not in the mood to waste time upon him. 
 There was danger in further delay; our bare feet 
 were numb with pain from standing on the rat- 
 lins; we were. hungry and blue in the lips from 
 cold and exposure; the ladies were suffering keenly, 
 and Mrs. Hooper was in an agony of wifely anxiety 
 about her husband, who really needed medical at- 
 tention. So I grimly asked the group for a pencil, 
 and Mrs. Hooper found one in her pocket. Taking 
 it aloft, I scratched — hoping it was legible — the 
 request for the life-car on one of the black tally- 
 boards, which I fastened firmly to the lifts of the 
 breeches-buoy, and with Gamble's help overhauled 
 the throat halyards until I reached the end of the 
 rope. With this I descended — Gamble following 
 with the other part — and said to the boy: 
 
 " If you resist we'll put it round your neck." 
 114 
 
The Devil and his Due 
 
 " What you goin' to do? " lie cried, awed by 
 our set faces and the menacing preparations. 
 " Let me alone. Don't you touch me. Annie, 
 make him stop.'' 
 
 While he protested I passed the end around his 
 waist and knotted it at his shoulder-blades. His 
 resistance was vocal only, but he clung tightly to 
 the shrouds until Gamble and I, pulling down on 
 the other part of the rope, tore him away. His 
 sister looked on, implacable in her reserve, say- 
 ing nothing. Mrs. Hooper pleaded mildly not to 
 hurt him, and Miss Nellie looked frightened, 
 while Hooper, above, called down to " bowse 
 him up." 
 
 As he rolled past the after-shroud and swung 
 far to leeward, a piercing scream left his lips, and 
 as he went aloft in irregular curves the scream 
 was repeated with every breath until it took on 
 the hoarse intonation noticeable in the squealing 
 of a pig in the hands of a butcher. It continued 
 —peal after peal — after we had hoisted him to the 
 top-block; and when I had climbed to his level, it 
 gathered force borne of my proximity and became 
 an inarticulate, squalling roar. 
 
 Gamble had remained below to slack away, and 
 Hooper was unable to assist; so upon me alone de- 
 115 
 
shipmates 
 
 volved the task of getting him into the breeches- 
 buoy. 
 
 " In you go/' I yelled at him. " Go ashore and 
 send out that life-car." 
 
 " I won't — I won't — I won't," he shrieked. 
 " Annie, Annie — don't let him ! " Then the words 
 merged into the squall of fright. 
 
 The breeches-buoy was just beneath him. I 
 gripped the shrouds firmly with my knees, and 
 holding on with one hand, reached for his throat 
 with the other. As I felt the soft flesh yield under 
 my grip, and saw his face grow red, then purple, I 
 felt dimly and momentarily the murder impulse — 
 the desire to kill inherent in us all — the legacy 
 from our cave-dwelling ancestors. But I was a 
 civilized man, with a long line of civilized grand- 
 fathers, and when his tongue began to protrude I 
 released the pressure. 
 
 " Will you go? " I shouted. 
 
 He choked, sputtered, and began his howl, but 
 did not finish. I closed down again, and this time 
 held the stricture until the clutch of his own fin- 
 gers over mine relaxed; then I gave him a breath, 
 shut off again, and sang out ^^ Lower away, hand- 
 somely." As Gamble slacked him down, I guided 
 his limp legs into the buoy, took my fingers from 
 116 
 
The Devil and his Due 
 
 his throat, and holding him firmly by the collar, 
 unhitched him, and waved to the men ashore. 
 They were evidently aware of our trouble, for they 
 instantly let go the upper part of the whip, which 
 had held the breeches-buoy close to the tail-block, 
 and Archibald shot down the inclined trolley fifty 
 feet before his vocal powers were again in working 
 order; but then it sounded — shriek after shriek of 
 animal terror coming back on the gale, fainter and 
 fainter as they hauled him shoreward. The yacht 
 was rolling with the heave of the sea, and as the 
 mast inclined, the hawser would slacken, dropping 
 him within reach of the combers; as she rolled 
 backward and tautened it, up would go Archibald 
 high above the hawser, his fat legs pointing heaven- 
 ward like steeples out of plumb. Then he would 
 fall with a jerk which strained the hitches on the 
 mast. In the breakers he was immersed half the 
 time, but not until he stood up on the beach did 
 his protest cease. And thus the product of moth- 
 erly coddling, mismanagement, and inborn vicious- 
 ness was rescued from a watery grave. 
 
 I had known the mind of a righteous judge, 
 and the ofiicial calm of a hangman; but now that 
 the nauseous job was done, I was faint with dis- 
 gust; though when I descended past Hooper, and 
 117 
 
shipmates 
 
 heard him chuckling joyously, and was heartened 
 thereby, I concluded it was partly due to an empty 
 stomach. 
 
 The life-car, a short boat with a whale-back 
 deck and ventilated hatch, came out, slung by rings 
 to the hawser. With less trouble than might have 
 been expected after Archibald's example, we in- 
 duced the ladies — who had certainly shown won- 
 derful courage and fortitude — to climb the rigging 
 and be assisted into the car. In spite of his inten- 
 tion to be last to leave the yacht, poor Hooper was 
 first, being unable to lower himself, unaided, into 
 the hatch. His wife followed, then Miss Bronson, 
 Miss Eunyon, and Gamble. It was given me to 
 support Miss Bronson with an arm about her waist, 
 as she stepped from the rigging to the deck of the 
 car; and as she looked into my face before going 
 down I saw the twitching of the mouth and the 
 pleading in the the eyes that I had once ascribed to 
 her sense of loss. She did not speak, nor did I; 
 but the incident softened me, and prepared me for 
 what happened in the car. 
 
 When all were down, I signalled to the shore, 
 
 descended the hatch, and secured the cover by its 
 
 inside bar according to Hooper's directions. 
 
 Though the hatch cover was pierced with small 
 
 118 
 
The Devil and his Due 
 
 holes, it was very dark in there, and I only knew, 
 as I crouched down and gripped a handhold, that 
 Hooper and Gamble were on the opposite side with 
 one of the ladies, while on each side of me were 
 the other two. 
 
 The car started; and, however it might have ap- 
 peared to observers ashore, the first part of the pas- 
 sage was no more uncomfortable than would be 
 a trolley-ride. Our united weight kept us below 
 the hawser — fairly steady, and there was not even 
 the rapid, toboggan-like rush down the incline 
 which had afflicted Archibald; for he had been 
 hung to a travelling pulley, while the life-car was 
 supported by two rings. The grating of these 
 rings over the strands of the hawser prevented con- 
 versation, and I was not surprised when my right- 
 hand neighbour leaned my way as though to speak 
 in my ear; but I was much surprised when an arm 
 slid around my neck, soft breath fanned my face, 
 and lips kissed me. I could not tell in the darkness 
 which one it was, but as some comment was re- 
 quired, I brought my mouth close to her ear and 
 w^hispered: 
 
 "Afraid?'^ 
 
 "No, not while you're with me/' came the 
 whispered answer. 
 
 119 
 
Shipmates 
 
 " Must be Annie/' I thought, with my heart 
 thumping. " Wonder what's brought her 'round? " 
 
 " Say, Will/' came the whisper in my ear, 
 "isn't he horrid?" 
 
 It was not Miss Bronson; it was Miss l^ellie 
 again, talking to her beloved Gamble. Now was 
 the time for an honourable man to undeceive her, 
 but I was weak and fallible; I wanted to know who 
 was "horrid," and why; and I was also governed 
 by fear of the mutual embarrassment which would 
 follow her discovery of whom she had kissed. So I 
 remained silent. 
 
 "Isn't he mean?" she asked again. 
 
 "Yes, of course. Who?" 
 
 " Mr. Somers." 
 
 " What's he done now? " 
 
 " Why, he's treating her awful — ^won't speak 
 to her — won't look at her — insulted her at the 
 hotel. She told me so — she's breaking her heart — 
 and he isn't worth it, even though he did help you 
 save my life. If 'twas me, I'd never look at him 
 again; but she accepted Mrs. Hooper's invitation 
 just to be near him — to make it up, you see. And 
 he won't forgive her." 
 
 " Won't forgive her? " I gasped. " What's she 
 done?" 
 
 120 
 
The Devil and his Due 
 
 "Nothing at all. But — she didn't tell this. 
 Her brother told us in the cabin — he was propos- 
 ing just as she sat down on a pin which Archie had 
 fixed for him, and she had to jump and run. Now, 
 she just couldn't stay there, could she?" 
 
 " No, I should think not." 
 
 " And the big goose, who loves every hair of 
 her head — I know, because he shouted for her in 
 the water, thinking I was she — don't know any 
 more than to get mad. And she can't explain, 
 can she ? " 
 
 " Ought to be kicked," I managed to say. 
 "Shall I tell him?" 
 
 " Not for the world. She'd never forgive me. 
 You're not supposed to know. I'll manage it. I'll 
 be the good fairy. She's a dear girl; she sent you 
 back to me where you belonged — you jealous 
 ninny! I never cared for him; but he helped you, 
 and I'll be good to him." 
 
 " You're a dear girl yourself," I said, and as 
 I meant to forestall her efforts in my behalf, and as 
 there was something due me for having " helped " 
 Gamble in saving her life, and as the whispering 
 lips were very close, I took my vicarious reward 
 right there. Then the life-car struck a sea, and 
 the rest of the trip was a tumble through the surf. 
 6 121 
 
Shipmates 
 
 Among his youthful friends Archibald is now 
 a hero. The reporters interviewed him, and de- 
 scribed his perilous ride through the breakers in 
 behalf of the cowardly " grown-ups " who waited 
 for the life-car. He is soon to become my brother- 
 in-law; but, though the sentence of death still 
 hangs over him, I doubt that it will ever be car- 
 ried out. For he fears me as his patron saint is 
 said to fear the good Book, and nothing short of 
 physical restraint will induce him to remain within 
 sound of my voice. 
 
 122 
 
POLARITY 
 
 A TALE OF TWO BRUNETTES 
 
 I TOSSED my half -smoked cigar overboard. It 
 had not availed to increase my courage, though 
 lighted for the purpose. 
 
 " Miss Durand/' I began, desperately, with the 
 painful fluttering of the heart which attends on 
 most confessions, " do you know that I invited you 
 out here with an object in view — other than the 
 mere inspection of my yacht ? " 
 
 " Indeed? " The dark eye-brows lifted slight- 
 ly, and the darker eyes glanced swiftly into mine, 
 and dropped. 
 
 " Yes, and it was in furtherance of this object 
 that I sent my sailing-master and the crew ashore 
 for the new sails, and the steward for provisions — 
 though both could wait.'' 
 
 " I thought you were ignoring the proprieties," 
 she answered, with an increase of colour. " I am 
 sure every glass on the beach has been levelled 
 at us.'' 
 
 123 
 
shipmates 
 
 ^^ Perhaps — ^perhaps, Miss Durand; I am sorry 
 if it will embarrass you; but I felt that I miust see 
 you alone, and that has been impossible since our 
 first meeting. Do you know that I disliked you 
 then?'' 
 
 " Why, Mr. Townsend/' she exclaimed, sitting 
 bolt upright in the deck-chair, " I did not know it. 
 Is it kind of you to tell me this? " 
 
 " It is my own fault — not yours," I answered, 
 hurriedly; ^Met me explain.'' Then, while the 
 beautiful face was half turned away from me, and 
 the shapely fingers of one white hand were closing 
 and unclosing nervously over those of the other, I 
 blundered through a long explanation of a pet 
 theory, arising from something I had heard, or read, 
 in my boyhood, concerning the physiological hin- 
 drance to true love, or even agreement, when lovers 
 happened to be of the same colour of eyes and hair. 
 I told her that my theory had been justified by 
 experience and observation — that, as a boy, I 
 had never been able to patch up a tiff, or a mis- 
 understanding, with a dark-haired girl, but that the 
 sunny-haired kind were my friends, because — I felt 
 sure — I was a pronounced brunette myself, black- 
 eyed and swarthy. Later, I had noticed that all my 
 married friends who seemed unhappily mated were 
 124 
 
Polarity 
 
 of the same type — both blonde, or both brunette. 
 " And, Miss Durand,'^ I concluded, " I met you 
 with this theory firmly intrenched in my mind, and 
 avoided you for a while on general principles. I 
 felt that we could never become friends. Then — 
 do you know what changed me? I learned that 
 you, in your life at sea with your father, had be- 
 come a better sailor than I — which could not but 
 impress an enthusiastic yachtsman. I enjoyed your 
 conversation, cultivated your acquaintance, learned 
 daily of new beauties of character, realized to the 
 full all your sweetness and nobility of soul, and 
 ended with a complete surrender and shattering of 
 my theories. Miss Durand, you have conquered, 
 captivated me " 
 
 '' Goodness ! '' she exclaimed. 
 
 I was fairly well launched in what I considered 
 a dignified avowal of love, when this remark cut me 
 short. It was not in answer to me, however, as for 
 an instant I thought. The yacht was heeling, and 
 a cool pressure of swiftly moving air fanned our 
 faces. Springing to my feet, I looked toward the 
 shore. It was hidden by a blackish-gray wall of 
 cloud which also obliterated from view the moun- 
 tain-top inland. The lower part of it was marked 
 by slanting and nearly parallel darker lines of de- 
 125 
 
Shipmates 
 
 scending rain, and beneath it was a white, frothy 
 turmoil of water. 
 
 '' A squall/' I said, " and a bad one. Better 
 go below, Miss Durand, out of the wet. I'll stay- 
 on deck." 
 
 ^^ What chain are you riding by? " she asked, 
 with no regard to my advice. 
 
 " I don't know. Short, I believe." 
 
 " Pay out, Mr. Townsend; she will need it all." 
 Miss Durand was compelled to scream this, as the 
 squall was upon us. It became nearly as dark as 
 night, and while the whistling fury of wind pelted 
 us with horizontal rain, and my companion, indif- 
 ferent to the drenching, clung to the binnacle, 
 studying the compass and the direction of the blast, 
 I fought my way forward, toward the windlass. 
 Urgent as was the need of prompt action, I could 
 not but note, in passing her, the perfection of a 
 figure shown to me in all its harmony of swelling 
 curve and rounded hollow, as the wet-clinging 
 fabric of her dress was pressed about her by the 
 wind. She was not frightened, but the wide-open 
 dark eyes, and parted lips, showing but two of the 
 white teeth, gave the lovely face an expression 
 of sailorly anxiety, charming in her — this child 
 of the sea. She was, indeed, I thought, a crea- 
 126 
 
Polarity 
 
 ture to live, and work, and fight for, if not to 
 die for. 
 
 '' Go below, Miss Durand," I shouted, as I cov- 
 ered the forecastle hatch; but she did not move. 
 The yacht carried a modern windlass, over a 
 sprocket-like wheel of which the chain led from the 
 hawse-pipe to the locker below. I knew by the jar- 
 ring vibration of the lever as I grasped it that the 
 anchor was dragging. Unlocking the windlass, I 
 let the chain run. It was too dark to see, and I 
 could only guess at the shackles as they whizzed 
 out; so after a conjectural thirty fathoms had 
 been added to the chain, I tightened the compressor 
 and held it. The anchor still dragged, and I let the 
 wheel spin. Again I held it, and again felt the jar- 
 ring of the anchor bounding along the bottom. It 
 seemed to be striking rocks, and resolving to pay 
 out all the chain at once, I loosened the compressor, 
 took my hand off the lever, and stood up, confident, 
 with amateurish confidence, that the end of the 
 cable was secured to the pawl-post below. In ten 
 seconds that end came up, barely cleared my face, 
 dealt the deck a blow that sounded like a pistol 
 report, and shot out the hawse-pipe in a glow of 
 sparks. It was a lubberly oversight — of my sail- 
 ing-master or mate. 
 
 127 
 
shipmates 
 
 ^^ We're adrift! I've slipped the chain," I 
 shouted, running aft to Miss Durand. 
 
 I could not hear clearly in that howling wind all 
 she said in reply, yet I thought that some part of 
 her answer formed a context to the word " fool," 
 which I was sure I heard quite clearly. But she 
 beckoned me close to her, and called in my ear: 
 
 " Hog-back Reef is but a quarter mile to lee- 
 ward. Come forward. We must get her before 
 the wind. The wheel is hard-a-port." 
 
 What courage and self-possession she had! I 
 understood her; the schooner was stripped to her 
 spars, and the only plan was to stand forward 
 as near the bows as we could so that our bodies 
 might catch the wind and throw her around before 
 it. Then we could steer. We clung to the fore- 
 stay, and watched the yacht swing broadside to the 
 storm, but beyond that we could not turn. 
 
 " Lay out," screamed Miss Durand. 
 
 I obeyed her, and erect at the extreme end of 
 the jib-boom had the satisfaction of seeing the little 
 schooner pay off. Dim and obscure in the gloom 
 I saw the figure of Miss Durand staggering aft 
 against the pressure of wind, and coming in, 
 joined her. She had taken the wheel, and now 
 called: 
 
 128 
 
Polarity 
 
 " Light the binnacle — quick! Then watch for 
 the reef. I think we can clear it." 
 
 She steered with the wind on the port quarter, 
 while I took the lamp below, lighted, and replaced 
 it in the binnacle. As I raised up, she pointed to 
 starboard. Hog-back Eeef, an outcrop of black 
 rocks in a swirling, boiling yeast of agitated water, 
 was but a half-length away. 
 
 '' We must let her drive, and keep off the 
 bottom," she screamed. ^^ I know the channel — 
 east-southeast now, and when we pass the beacon 
 to port we can square away. Keep a lookout; I will 
 steer." 
 
 I felt that steering would be more in keeping 
 with my strength, and offered to relieve her, but 
 she motioned me away, and I obeyed. I could not 
 help it. 
 
 The yacht was charging along at about a ten- 
 knot rate, and I watched through the darkness and 
 fog-like spindrift for the beacon-house. In five 
 minutes it loomed up, huge and shadowy on the 
 port bow, and I pointed to it. She nodded, shifted 
 the wheel, and called me to her. 
 
 " Due southeast for two miles now," she cried 
 in my ear; '' then we are at sea. Will you steer? 
 My arms ache." 
 
 129 
 
Shipmates 
 
 I gladly relieved her. She had already found 
 the course, and I held the yacht to it, while she 
 leaned against the companionway and peered ahead. 
 What was in her mind I could not guess. This 
 squall had interrupted a proposal of marriage, 
 which her woman's understanding must have ap- 
 prised her was coming. And I had not put the 
 matter in shape to be answered, and surely could 
 not until the wind moderated and our safety was 
 assured. But there came to my mind the favourite 
 situations in Clark EusselFs charming sea stories 
 — a young man and woman alone somewhere at 
 sea, on a derelict, a raft, or an island — and from the 
 resemblance of our own position to that of his 
 characters I drew hope and courage ; for out of the 
 perils of the sea grew most logically the loves of 
 his heroes and heroines. 
 
 A curling, shallow-water sea was following the 
 yacht, and the spray, colder than the summer rain, 
 was chilling me to the bone. Miss Durand must 
 have suffered more, and I called to her: 
 
 " Won't you go below? It is dangerous to ex- 
 pose yourself this way." 
 
 She moved to the binnacle, looked at the com- 
 pass, and then at me, with eye-brows knitted. 
 
 " Keep her on her course," she cried sharply. 
 130 
 
Polarity 
 
 I was a point and a half off the course. Bow- 
 ing to her in acknowledgment of my carelessness, 
 I brought the yacht ba(:?k, and repeated my 
 advice. 
 
 " No," was her answer; " not with you at the 
 wheel — not until we have sea room." 
 
 This I thought was rather unkind, but I forgave 
 her; she was wet, cold, and in a most embarrassing 
 position. 
 
 The first violence of the squall had passed, and 
 it grew lighter, enabling us to see landmarks each 
 side and ahead; but a gray gale of wind was left, 
 which drove us down the channel, past the spar- 
 buoy off the light-house point — ^where the keeper 
 came out and waved to us — past the channel buoy, 
 which I would have run down had not Miss Durand 
 screamed at me and assisted at the wheel, and out 
 beyond the whistling buoy that marked the en- 
 trance to the channel. We were at sea — a half 
 confident commodore of a yacht club, and a much 
 out-of-sorts young woman — in a sailless schooner- 
 yacht, with a scant supply of provisions and water. 
 Yet I doubted not of our rescue; breezy old Captain 
 Durand would charter every steam yacht and tug 
 within reach of a telegram to search for his daugh- 
 ter; and I imagined what my blowing-up would be 
 131 
 
shipmates 
 
 when I came within range of his quarter-deck vo- 
 cabulary. 
 
 An off-shore sea was now raising, and the little 
 schooner began to heave unpleasantly. Miss Du- 
 rand left her position, and asked: " Have you any 
 canvas aboard — a storm mainsail or trysail? '' 
 
 " ITot a rag," I answered. '' I condemned 
 every sail in the suit, and sold them yesterday for 
 junk.'' 
 
 " Have you a sea anchor? " 
 
 " A sea anchor? I don't know. What is it? " 
 
 With a gesture of impatience she opened the 
 companionway and went below. 
 
 "Poor girl!" I thought. "It certainly is 
 enough to ruffle the sweetest of tempers. But what 
 on earth is a sea anchor? It isn't mentioned in the 
 books." 
 
 She came up in a few moments and said: 
 
 " I have rummaged for material. There are 
 tools in the forecastle. You can not use a hatch, 
 and the cabin table is too small. You must take 
 down a stateroom door, bore holes in each corner, 
 make a bridle and weight one side. There is a 
 hawser in the forecastle that will answer for a 
 riding line. I will steer." 
 
 " What for? What do you want me to do? " 
 132 
 
Polarity 
 
 '' Make a drag — to hold her head to sea. We 
 are driving out too fast. When you have rigged 
 and ridden to a sea anchor, you will have an im- 
 mense advantage. Your club will call you their 
 admiral.'' 
 
 ISTot even the effort to make herself heard above 
 the storm could qualify the contempt which she 
 put into these words, and coming from her, for 
 whom I am confident I would have given my life, 
 it hurt me beyond expression. But I was of age, 
 and with a certain experience of the world and of 
 women, I knew that without her respect I was 
 valueless to her, and my love futile; and this re- 
 spect I could not ask — I must compel it. So with 
 as much dignity as a man may assume while grind- 
 ing a three-foot wheel right and left, I said: 
 
 " Miss Durand, I can understand and appreciate 
 your superior nautical knowledge. I have often 
 heard your father speak of you as a better sailor 
 and navigator than himself, and I feel deeply culpa- 
 ble and sorry for our present position. I admit I 
 am solely to blame. Yet I hope that I do not de- 
 serve all your sarcasm." 
 
 "Port! Port!" she answered, seizing the 
 wheel. A choppy sea broke over the port quarter, 
 drenching us both, and rolled forward. It was 
 133 
 
Shipmates 
 
 with difficulty that, with her help, I prevented the 
 yacht broaching to. Again I had shown my inca- 
 pacity, and my ears burned. 
 
 " Go to work," she said, sharply. 
 
 I relinquished the wheel to her, and went below, 
 where, in an unenviable frame of mind, I ruined 
 a mahogany stateroom door with an auger. I could 
 not remember all of her instructions, and was too 
 proud to ask; but I possessed a fairly logical mind, 
 and reasoning out the points in the contrivance as 
 I progressed, soon had it finished. In the fore- 
 castle was the tow-line she had mentioned, but I 
 captiously decided not to use it. Hawsers should 
 not be wet until necessary. I knew that much. 
 
 I brought the door on deck with a shackle fast 
 to the knob for a weight, unrove the fore-throat 
 halyards, and bent it to the bridle I had rigged 
 from the corners of the door in spite of her scream- 
 ing protest that the rope was too weak. 
 
 " Miss Durand," I said, coldly but politely, as 
 I struggled up to her against the wind, " I am the 
 owner of this yacht and all the ropes on board. I 
 am now ready. If you will kindly put the wheel 
 over, I will throw out the drag as soon as we lose 
 headway." She ground the wheel to starboard with 
 a vigour and strength which surprised me, while 
 134 
 
Polarity 
 
 her face assumed a stony expression. She was not 
 beautiful in her present mood, and the shock of the 
 change pained me, angry as I felt. 
 
 Sea after sea, green and solid, boarded the yacht 
 as she rounded to and rolled in the trough, and I 
 was twice knocked from my feet before I managed 
 to launch the door over the bow and catch a turn 
 with the line, which, by slacking with a taut strain, 
 brought the bow slowly to the wind. When the 
 whole length, about twenty fathoms, was out I 
 made fast, and two minutes later realized that I 
 had made another mistake, and that Miss Durand 
 was again right. The rope was too weak, and 
 parted at the chock. 
 
 With an inward malediction on my stubborn- 
 ness, I scrambled aft — past Miss Durand, whose im- 
 passive face was averted — and below, where, in a 
 state of unstable equilibrium, I duplicated my work 
 on the other door. The job took me an hour, for 
 the yacht behaved like a cradle in the trough of 
 the rising sea. Carrying the door up the compan- 
 ionway, flushed and fatigued from my exertions, 
 I said to Miss Durand, with a poor show of 
 politeness: "I need help to get that hawser up; 
 will you go down and light the coils out of the 
 locker? " 
 
 135 
 
shipmates 
 
 She had lashed herself to the wheel-box grating, 
 and, after a searching look into my face which puz- 
 zled me, undid the lashing and went below, while 
 I staggered forward with my burden. Lifting the 
 forecastle hatch, I received the end from her, and 
 after a difficult quarter hour's dragging — during 
 which the forecastle was nearly flooded — had the 
 hawser coiled on deck. With experience to guide 
 me this time, I passed the end out the vacant hawse- 
 pipe and back over the rail before bending on. 
 Then, throwing the drag over as before, and slacking 
 out all the line, I again brought the yacht's nose to 
 the sea and made fast. Bound not to earn her criti- 
 cism if I could help it, I wrapped the hawser snugly 
 with canvas — parcelling, I think they call it — and 
 slacked this wrapping into the hawse-pipe to take 
 the chafe. 
 
 The little schooner rode the seas nobly, and my 
 chagrin at Miss Durand's attitude was replaced, in 
 part, by a seamanly pride in the success of my 
 efforts. She would share in the benefit and must 
 accord me a share in the credit. Though without 
 her superb knowledge of the sea and of ships, I felt 
 that I could be of use to her in this crisis, and 
 selfishly hoped that our voyage would continue long- 
 enough for me to offset, by intelligent work and 
 136 
 
Polarity 
 
 devotion, my ridiculous blunder in slipping the 
 chain. " She was educated at sea," I mused, '' and 
 places seamanship at the head of manly accom- 
 plishments. I have been found wanting in sea- 
 manship; consequently I have dropped in her es- 
 teem and must be punished.'' Miss Durand was 
 almost forgiven— would have been wholly so had 
 I been quite sure of my premises. 
 
 Mounting the fore-rigging, I searched closely 
 the gray expanse of crested sea between myself and 
 the rocky shore fast disappearing in the gloom of 
 the evening. There was no sign of sail or smoke 
 to indicate a search for us, and descending, I went 
 aft to Miss Durand, who was again seated on the 
 grating. Her hat was blown away, and her hair 
 sadly disarranged by the wind; she had not laboured 
 as I had, her lips were blue from cold and she 
 shivered palpably. A great pity possessed me, and 
 I forgot everything except that I loved her. 
 
 " Miss Durand," I exclaimed, '' this will not 
 do. You are suffering. We are in for a night at 
 sea; but she rides easy. Go down, and I will stand 
 watch. You will find food of some kind in the 
 steward's pantry — and stimulants; you need them 
 — and then go to bed. There are two staterooms." 
 
 With a look in her eyes which might have meant 
 10 137 
 
shipmates 
 
 anger or scorn or fright — or all three, so strange 
 and unpleasant it seemed — she stood erect and drew 
 back; then, with a little grimace which certainly 
 indicated disgust and aversion, she passed me and 
 went below. 
 
 Hurt beyond measure by her manner, incapable 
 of connected thought, I took her place on the grat- 
 ing, where I sat until my limbs were stiff with cold ; 
 but I cared nothing for it; her insolence had fired 
 my brain and numbed my heart. The chilly wind 
 could not blow cold enough for me. 
 
 I heard the sound of rattling dishes, and knew 
 that she was helping herself in the pantry; then 
 darkness descended and the cabin became quiet. 
 Though the gale was moderating, the sea was get- 
 ting higher and the temperature lower, and at last, 
 chilled to the bone by the wet and cold, I was forced 
 to pace up and down. The exercise brought co- 
 herence to my thoughts, and I reviewed what had 
 passed. 
 
 The searching scrutiny of my face when I had 
 asked her to go into the forecastle, and back of this, 
 the stony expression of her own face when I had 
 disagreed with her about the riding line — these 
 things certainly came of her distrust of my compe- 
 tence; but why was she so severe? Her dictatorial 
 X38 
 
Polarity 
 
 manner on the run out was strictly compatible with 
 her superior seamanship, but why had she called me 
 a fool? I was sure that she had — just for slipping 
 the cable. Do accidents and mistakes never occur 
 at sea? What had changed her so — she so kind 
 and gracious, who had shown a preference for my 
 society, so delicately indicated, yet so marked that 
 it had led me to hope that she loved me — that had 
 induced me to dare the conventionalities and ask 
 for her hand on board my yacht; and that proposal 
 — what had I said? 
 
 Slowly and painfully after the excitement — 
 word by word — my half -uttered declaration of love 
 came back to me. ^^ That was it," I groaned; ^^ that 
 upset her. I didn't finish, and up to the interrup- 
 tion it was grossest personal flattery. Great heav- 
 ens, can I undo it? It was insulting, under the 
 circumstances.'' 
 
 Before midnight I had decided what it was best 
 to do — finish the tale of love at the first opportunity 
 and set my motives right; and no matter what her 
 reception should be, to repeat it again and again 
 and assume such a dignity and treat her with such 
 deference as would in time shame her out of her 
 injustice to me — in short, to live it down. She 
 was worth waiting for. 
 
 139 
 
shipmates 
 
 This question settled, other things demanded 
 attention. I had not eaten for twelve hours and 
 was faint with hunger, and in danger of pneumonia 
 from exposure. Then, too, we had been drifting 
 half the night without showing a light. With as 
 little noise as possible, I procured the riding light 
 from the lamp locker in the forecastle — luckily 
 finding dry matches in a bunk — and ran it up on 
 the bight of the staysail halyards, as I had seen 
 done by my men. Going down the hatch again, 
 and aft into the pantry, I made a substantial lunch 
 after warming myself with a glass of whisky. 
 
 I now wanted a smoke; but the cigars in my 
 pocket were sodden. Though there were pipes and 
 tobacco in the sailing-master's room and the fore- 
 castle, I had always a distaste for another man's 
 pipe, and knew that I should not like the tobacco. 
 The thought of my own fragrant meerschaum and 
 Turkish Mixture on my stateroom desk led me 
 into the dark cabin, where I stopped short; for my 
 way was impeded by wet skirts and other clothing 
 hanging from lines stretched across the room. 
 
 With two to choose from. Miss Durand would 
 
 hardly occupy my stateroom. Her nautical mind 
 
 would enable her to readily distinguish mine by its 
 
 appurtenances and position to port, from the vacant 
 
 140 
 
Polarity 
 
 stateroom to starboard. Yet I must make no mis- 
 take; I had blundered too much already. I re- 
 mained perfectly quiet to make sure of her where- 
 abouts by her breathing, but heard no sound other 
 than the crashing of the water alongside. She 
 was either a soft sleeper, or she was wide awake, 
 listening. The latter possibility decided me. 
 
 '' Miss Durand ! " I called softly, so as not to 
 waken her if she was asleep. "Are you awake? 
 Which room are you in? " 
 
 There was no answer. She was evidently 
 asleep, I thought, and probably — almost certainly 
 — in the spare room. The craving for a smoke be- 
 coming stronger by the delay, I decided to step 
 quietly into my room, secure the pipe, and decamp 
 without disturbing her. 
 
 As I passed the threshold a voice — a low, hard, 
 unfeminine voice — said, " You scoundrel! " Then 
 a deafening report filled my ears and my cap left 
 my head, while the room was lighted by an instan- 
 taneous flash which went out as it came, leaving 
 blacker darkness behind. But the flash had dis- 
 closed to me a white, set face with gleaming teeth 
 between parted lips, and glittering eyes glancing 
 along the barrel of a revolver held by a shapely 
 hand, behind which — in the berth and half -covered 
 141 
 
Shipmates 
 
 by the blanket — was a shapelier arm and swelling 
 white shoulders and bust. She had taken my room 
 and guarded it with my own revolver, which had a 
 place on the desk beside the pipe. 
 
 " Miss Durand," I shouted, " don't shoot me. 
 I only wanted a smoke — my pipe and tobacco." 
 
 " Leave this cabin as you value your life." 
 
 I left it and floundered into the forecastle, 
 where I sat on a locker, trembling in every limb, per- 
 spiring at every pore, for ten minutes before capa- 
 ble of another voluntary action. If ever in my life 
 I wanted a smoke I wanted it then, and when I 
 could, fired up a sailor's pipe, felt of a furrow in 
 my hair over a hot line of blistered scalp, and 
 smoked feverishly. Under the influence of the to- 
 bacco I soon grew calmer and went on deck. There 
 was nothing in sight, the lamp burned brightly, and 
 the gale was going down, so I descended, for the 
 cold wind seemed to cut me to the bone. 
 
 I sat on the locker smoking continuously until 
 daylight, and in that time went through a process 
 of retrospection and heart dissection that no man is 
 equal to until face to face with some great calamity 
 or loss. At first came a great sadness, and back of 
 it were dead memories of our walks, and talks, and 
 dances together, in which her sweet, imperious 
 142 
 
Polarity 
 
 beauty and gracious charm of manner appealed to 
 me to make excuses — to forgive her. She was mis- 
 taken, but justifiably so. But oftener and oftener 
 as I brooded and called up these memories of the 
 past, the loveliness and softness in the face of the 
 vision I conjured would give way to the baleful 
 combination of fear, suspicion, and destructive hate 
 that I had seen by the pistol flash. Then a fury of 
 soul possessed me, and thoughts came to me of 
 which I must not speak. Then melancholy, and 
 weakness which brought tears; then a permanent 
 calm. And in this calm I forced her face of beauty 
 from me, and in its stead, enshrined in hatred, 
 placed a picture that I meant should stay forever — 
 a picture of gleaming teeth between parted lips, 
 and glittering, murderous eyes in a white, set face. 
 Then, and not until then, I perceived the grim 
 humour of the situation, and laughed long and 
 loudly. It was a laugh that must have found an 
 echo in the infernal regions. 
 
 At daylight I went on deck. The gale had be- 
 come a gentle breeze, and the yacht rolled in the 
 trough of a greasy swell, heaving seaward. The 
 horizon was hidden by haze, here and there thick- 
 ened to genuine fog, and overhead was promise of 
 a bright day and sunshine. I took down the riding 
 143 
 
shipmates 
 
 light, hauled in the now useless drag, and lim- 
 bered my stiffened joints by smartly pacing the 
 deck. In about an hour Miss Durand came up the 
 companionway. 
 
 She had made the best toilet possible, but 
 looked wretched and ill. Black half circles were 
 under her eyes, and her pale face, besides wearing 
 the expression of discomfort following the recent 
 donning of damp clothing, showed pinched and 
 drawn, indicating a sleepless night. But any pity 
 I might have felt for her as a woman was for- 
 bidden by the sight of my revolver tucked into 
 her belt — obviously to keep me in order. With 
 as sarcastic a smile as I could assume I advanced 
 and said: 
 
 '' Good-morning, Miss Durand. I see — pardon 
 the allusion — that you are carrying side-arms to- 
 day. Do you think you would like another shot — 
 a daylight shot — at me? " 
 
 " Up to the time I heard you laughing, sir, I 
 thought one shot might be enough. Be assured 
 that the next time I shall aim lower than your 
 cap." 
 
 " Thank you for the warning. I am to con- 
 sider, I suppose, that you did not mean to kill me. 
 As for laughing. Miss Durand," I added, seriously, 
 144 
 
Polarity 
 
 " believe me, I was not. It was a song that you 
 heard — the swan song of a shattered ideal. But in 
 your own behalf will you not say something — 
 something that will explain or possibly excuse your 
 shooting at a man who, up to that moment, would 
 have defended your honour and safety with his life, 
 a man whose only fault was the innocent one of en- 
 tering his own room after satisfying himself by 
 your silence that it was empty. It is all a mystery, 
 and yet — I wish to be just." 
 
 " Mr. Townsend," she answered, in the incisive 
 tone which none but well-bred women can assume, 
 " prior to your admission that you invited me on 
 board your yacht, and sent your crew ashore in 
 order that I should be alone with you, I thought 
 you a gentleman; when you slipped the chain 
 I merely thought you a fool, and, I believe, 
 called you one in the excitement of the mo- 
 ment; but when you pretended ignorance of a 
 sea anchor and then constructed one, when you 
 purposely wasted one stateroom door so that the 
 other must be taken also, I concluded that you 
 had purposely wasted your cable as well, and that 
 you were a quick-witted \Tillain, able and ready 
 to take any advantage of time, weather, or cir- 
 cumstance to further your ends. As to my taking 
 145 
 
shipmates 
 
 your room, it is due myself to say that I found 
 
 the berth in the other drenched with water from 
 
 the open dead-light above." 
 
 She had explained it all. On the evidence of 
 
 a series of accidents she had judged me guilty of 
 motives for which men have been lynched; yet her 
 denunciation brought no increase of anger or hu- 
 miliation ; I was beyond reach of an insult from her 
 now; only the terrible humour of it appealed to 
 me, as before, and again I laughed, bitterly and 
 sardonically. 
 
 " I see," I said. " To attempt to refute this 
 would be pure folly. I shall go down now and cook 
 our breakfast; but I feel that after the experience 
 of the night and your expressed intention to aim 
 lower, I must ask you to place my pipe and tobacco- 
 bag on the cabin table, where I can get them with- 
 out risking my life." 
 
 " You may cook what you wish for yourself," 
 she answered, impassively. " I shall eat what I can 
 find and when I please. Your pipe and tobacco-bag 
 you will find in the binnacle, where you placed 
 them yesterday." 
 
 In the binnacle! So I had — when we sat to- 
 gether at the anchorage and she had gently hinted 
 that I smoke a cigar, as less likely to scent her 
 146 
 
Polarity 
 
 clothing. I looked in and found both, snug and 
 dry. 
 
 ^^ Miss Durand/' I said, " I must assert, on my 
 honour, whether you believe me or not, that I had 
 forgotten this, and supposed them still in the state- 
 room." 
 
 '' That will do, sir; I do not care to discuss the 
 subject." She turned her back to me as she said 
 this, and I went forward, for there was nothing 
 more to be said. 
 
 Down below I made a startling discovery. I 
 had eaten all the cold meat I could find in the night, 
 and there was no more of it; and beyond four or 
 five potatoes, a small piece of bacon, a little coffee, 
 and some crackers — just enough for a meal — there 
 was no food in the yacht. Why the steward had 
 allowed the provisions to get so low I could not 
 understand; though he had spoken of the shortage, 
 and I had gladly sent him ashore. Sounding the 
 tank, I found it half full. " Water enough for a 
 week," I thought, " if we do not waste it." 
 
 I lighted a fire, cooked what I had found, and 
 set the table; then, stepping on deck, invited Miss 
 Durand to precede me in eating her share, at the 
 same time apprising her of the state of the larder. 
 She walked away from me, and looked over the taff- 
 147 
 
Shipmates 
 
 rail without answering. Nothing could be done 
 with such a girl, so I ate my breakfast — putting 
 her half in the oven — and came up. She immedi- 
 ately descended, and I, smoking on the wheel-box, 
 heard again the rattle of dishes. She was not going 
 hungry. Soon an increase of smoke from the gal- 
 ley chimney told me of extra fire below. 
 
 An hour later she came up, arrayed in the 
 yacht's ensign, which, with the pistol, she had 
 belted around her. It was large enough to cover 
 her, and, with her dark eyes and hair, I confessed 
 to myself, made a tasteful combination of colour. 
 In one hand she carried a bucket of steaming water, 
 and in the other her dress — a dark wash-fabric — 
 and a piece of soap. 
 
 " Miss Durand," I said, as I realized her object, 
 " allow me to suggest that we are not yet rescued, 
 and are short of water, as well as of food." 
 
 " Mind your own business," she snapped. " I 
 am not going to look like a fright." I smiled and 
 subsided. She washed the salt from the dress, 
 rinsed it with more fresh water, rigged a clothes- 
 line between the fore and main rigging, and hung 
 it up, dripping, so that it would dry without creas- 
 ing — a trick she must have learned at sea. Then 
 she stood a moment, musing, and went down, com- 
 148 
 
Polarity 
 
 ing up with more fresh water and a skirt, which she 
 also washed and hung out. Down she went again 
 — the spirit of wash-day was upon her — and ap- 
 peared with a garment, which I, having sisters, 
 knew for a corset-cover. This was followed by the 
 corset. 
 
 Again she descended, and beginning to wonder 
 where this young woman would stop, I filled my 
 pipe anew and took a position where I could gaze 
 over the stem while she flitted back and forth from 
 bucket to cabin, washing out and hanging up what- 
 ever was next on the list. When she descended 
 at last and remained longer in the cabin, I ventured 
 to peep forward. Flying balloon-like in the morn- 
 ing breeze were frilled and beribboned garments — 
 known, I believe, under the generic name of lin- 
 gerie — a generous display, which lacked but stock- 
 ings to complete the list. 
 
 Would Miss Durand take off her shoes and 
 stockings? She would, and did, but donned instead 
 my sailing-master's long rubber boots. This was 
 gratifying, and I breathed a bachelor sigh of relief 
 as she stumped up the stairs and went forward. 
 Soon the stockings were added to the wash, and 
 with her shoes, garters, and belt — the latter re- 
 placed by a piece of spun-yarn rove through the 
 149 
 
shipmates 
 
 trigger-guard of the pistol — well rinsed of salt 
 water and arranged in sunny spots on the hot deck, 
 she stood back and surveyed her work with the 
 most pleasant expression of face that I had seen 
 since the squall. 
 
 " Going to hang yourself up, Miss Durand? " 
 I asked, with a malicious grin. 
 
 I had probably been farthest from her thoughts 
 — otherwise she might not have tied that guardian 
 weapon so firmly to her waist — and a startled look 
 in her eyes gave way to one of angry contempt. 
 She said nothing, but walked forward; while I, 
 knocking the ashes from my pipe, began pacing the 
 deck. At the first turn, I made out, directly ahead, 
 half hidden by the haze, a black steamer. Behind 
 her was thicker fog from which she had come, and 
 ahead of her was more into, which she would plunge 
 in less than ten minutes. She was crossing our 
 bow, diagonally, fully three miles away — too far 
 to see us with no canvas set. But she might see a 
 flag. Miss Durand, too, had observed her. 
 
 " We must signal," I said, as I approached her. 
 
 " You have a cannon? " 
 
 " But no powder. You must go below. Miss 
 Durand, and throw the ensign into the forecastle 
 where I can get it.'' A blaze of scorn came from 
 150 
 
Polarity 
 
 her eyes. " Go down below, Miss Durand/' I con- 
 tinued, excitedly. " I will respect your privacy; I 
 will return you the ensign or your clothes. Hurry, 
 please! " 
 
 " I will not. What do you think? " 
 
 ^^ Hang it! ''I yelled. ^' Keep the pistol. Go 
 below and take off the flag." 
 
 " I will not." 
 
 " Then, by Heaven! I know what TU do. Tve 
 been too long at sea with you." I quickly untied 
 the after end of the clothes-line from the rigging, 
 ran forward with it — clothes and all — and had 
 fastened it to one end of the fore-signal halyards, 
 when she said, close behind me, ^^ You let my 
 things alone! " Turning, I saw her struggling with 
 the pistol, trying to stretch the string enough to 
 enable it to bear on me. 
 
 " You murdering tigress! " I growled insanely. 
 " Shoot me, will you? " 
 
 I hardly know what happened; but of this I am 
 sure, for it is all that I remember of my thoughts 
 during the struggle : I used no more force than was 
 necessary to twist the pistol from her hand and 
 hold it while I undid the granny's knot — which 
 she, being a woman, had tied in the spun-yarn. 
 Whether she meant to shoot me or not I can not 
 151 
 
shipmates 
 
 say, but my face felt the heat of the explosion 
 which occurred as she resisted me, and I afterward 
 found grains of powder embedded in the skin. 
 
 She sank down on the cabin-trunk, holding her 
 disordered raiment about her and sobbing hyster- 
 ically, while I ran the wash to half-mast, unbending 
 the forward end of the line from the rigging, and 
 letting it go up with the other part of the halyards. 
 Three minutes later a cloud of steam left the 
 steamer, followed by the faint toot of her whistle. 
 We were seen, and I walked aft, too enraged to 
 offer to lower the clothes. 
 
 Still sobbing, she arose, recaptured and donned 
 her spun-yarn belt, cast off the turns from the be- 
 laying-pin, and with shaking, bungling fingers 
 hauled down on the signal halyards and untied the 
 knot at the lower end of the clothes-line. In doing 
 so, she released the other part of the halyards, and 
 a fresher puff of wind coming with a weather roll 
 of the yacht, this part went aloft with a whir, jerk- 
 ing the end from her fingers just as she had cleared 
 the knot. She sprang frantically to catch it, re- 
 leased her hold on the clothes-line, then turned and 
 gazed blankly at her apparel dropping gently on 
 the surface of the smooth swell thirty feet to lee- 
 ward, 
 
 152 
 
Polarity 
 
 I was a man — though an angry one — and she 
 a woman, conquered, frightened to tears, and ar- 
 rayed in most unconventional raiment; and I would 
 have rescued her clothing had I been able to; but 
 both boats were ashore, I could not swim, and 
 nothing on board would reach. Too proud to ap- 
 peal to me, she seated herself again, with a face 
 white and stony as marble — a statue-like image of 
 misery and despair. Before the steamer was within 
 hailing distance, the last bubble from the sunken 
 clothing had burst on the surface. 
 
 The steamer was one of the two-masted, single- 
 funnelled passenger boats which ply up and down 
 the coast, and her rail was lined with men, women, 
 and children, as she surged up and stopped along- 
 side. 
 
 ^^ What's the trouble ? " sang out a uniformed 
 captain on her bridge. , 
 
 " Blown out yesterday by a squall — no can- 
 vas, no grub, and very little water. Can you tow 
 me in?'' 
 
 " We're bound to Boston. How'U that do? " 
 
 "How far?" 
 
 " 'Bout a hundred miles." 
 
 " Have you a stewardess on board? '^ 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 11 153 
 
Shipmates 
 
 " Very well. I want passage in for this lady, 
 with what care and clothing she may require; and 
 I want a man to help me steer, and grub and water 
 for both. How much?" 
 
 He named a figure, which, though high, I was 
 willing to pay and acceded to. The steamer's main 
 gaff was guyed out with one vang, the tackle of the 
 other singled up, and a chair hung to the end and 
 lowered to our deck. 
 
 " Now, Miss Durand," I asked, " are you 
 ready? '' 
 
 " I don't want to go ! " she moaned. " I can 
 not — I can not — all those men! " She burst out 
 crying again. 
 
 " Miss Durand," I said, gravely, but firmly, 
 ^^you must; there is no food on board. I am re- 
 sponsible for your being here, and will see that you 
 are clothed and sent to your father ; but you are re- 
 sponsible for your present condition, and also for 
 the fact that I am anxious to end our association. 
 I was about to ask you to become my wife when the 
 squall prevented me. I am glad now that it did 
 so. You have misunderstood my most inno- 
 cent actions, misjudged me, insulted me, wronged 
 me — as well as wronged yourself — and twice 
 you have attempted my life. You must leave 
 154 
 
Polarity 
 
 my yacht — for your own sake as much as for 
 mine/' 
 
 She dried her eyes with a comer of the flag, 
 arose to her feet, and said, simply, though not 
 humbly, " I will go/' 
 
 Ten minutes later she had been swung over the 
 steamer's rail, and a sailor, with a breaker of water 
 and a basket of assorted food, was lowered in the 
 chair. A hawser was then dropped to us, which 
 we took in through the hawse-pipe, and one bell 
 was rung in the engine-room. 
 
 " Say," called the captain, as the steamer 
 forged ahead, " what colours did you signal with? 
 I couldn't make 'em out." 
 
 Hesitating for a moment, I answered: " Flags 
 of all nations." 
 
 But I doubt that he understood, though a pe- 
 culiar buzzing sound, as of collective laughter, 
 arose from the group of passengers nearest to Miss 
 Durand. 
 
 I^ext morning, at Boston, I handed my yacht 
 over to a caretaker, and telegraphed my sailing- 
 master to come on with the crew and sails. On 
 inquiry, I learned that Miss Durand had found 
 friends on the steamer, who fitted her out and sent 
 her home to her father. 
 
 155 
 
shipmates 
 
 I met that breezy old man later on, and was 
 prepared for anything from a broadside of abuse 
 to a caning; but, to my amazement, he thanked 
 me warmly for my chivalrous care of his daughter, 
 and congratulated me on my skill in handling the 
 yacht, particularly as regarded the rigging of the 
 sea anchor; which chivalry and skill I did not dare 
 disclaim. 
 
 I have also met Miss Durand — in society — 
 charming, gracious as ever she had been — and actu- 
 ally received an apology and plea for forgiveness, 
 which I cheerfully granted, as I had long since 
 overcome my resentment, and measured the 
 trouble by my discarded Theory — now reclaimed 
 and firmly enthroned. And, as time went on, I 
 found, by certain indications in her eyes and voice, 
 that my former attentions might be welcome — 
 that, in spite of the brutality of conduct she had 
 forced me to, I had not lost ground in that trip, 
 but, on the contrary, seemed to stand higher than 
 ever in her estimation. Was it because she had 
 reasoned out the injustice she had done me? Or 
 was it because I had proved — animal-like in my 
 strength and rage, yet thoroughly — that mine was 
 the master nature, and she, queenly woman that 
 she was, needed this proof before her love was pos- 
 156 
 
Polarity 
 
 sible? I do not know. The question involves the 
 inscrutability of the feminine heart — a problem 
 that antedates human experience and is not yet re- 
 duced to law. 
 
 I have a wife now. She is timid and gentle, 
 with the shiniest of golden hair and bluest of eyes. 
 She likes yachting, is anxious to learn of the sea, 
 and I teach her all that I know (she has just mas- 
 tered the theory of sea anchors), while she studies 
 deeply in nautical lore and fiction. But on one 
 point — our nearest approach to a difference of 
 opinion — ^we are not in complete accord: She en- 
 joys the sea tales of W. Clark Eussell, and says 
 that they are just lovely — which is true — ^but, 
 somehow, I can not abide them. 
 
 157 
 
A TALE OF A PIGTAIL 
 
 One of the finest specimens of Chinese anatomy 
 I had ever seen came down the rickety wharf, 
 climbed my little schooner's rail, and, approaching 
 the poop, where the mate and I sat smoking, asked 
 me for a berth. He was nearly six feet tall, well 
 built, handsome in a Chinese way, and he wore at 
 full length down his back as long, thick, and glossy 
 a queue as might be found in all Shanghai. Be- 
 sides, he was well dressed, and smiled in a very well- 
 bred, intelligent manner. He did not look like a 
 waterman or a sailor; but as I was a man short I 
 considered his application. 
 
 " What can do? " I asked in the pidgin-English 
 of the seaports. 
 
 ^^ Can do," he answered; "Ling Sum, name. 
 Velly much able seaman." 
 
 " Can steer? Can splice rope? Can box com- 
 pass? " 
 
 "Plenty good sailo'man. Makee long splice, 
 159 
 
Shipmates 
 
 slio' splice. Box compass. No', no' by eas', no' 
 no' eas', no' eas' by no' " 
 
 ''That's good," I interrupted. "Savvy 
 ropes?" 
 
 He put out his hand on the main-sheet and 
 named it. Then he pointed to the foremast, jib- 
 boom, and various parts of the vessel, calling their 
 names correctly, and giving other evidence of nau- 
 tical erudition far in advance of that of the rest 
 of my crew. 
 
 '' Try him on knots, cap'n," said the mate. 
 " A square knot's the test o' Chinese sailorizin'." 
 
 Somehow, out of his experience, Mr. Jack Mac- 
 donald, my mate, had evolved the theory that a 
 woman and a Chinaman can not tie a square knot, 
 without laborious instruction — their instincts im- 
 pelling them to make a granny's knot. A square 
 knot is the simplest of knots. Bring the two ends 
 of string or rope together, lay one over the other, 
 wind it around underneath and bring it up; then 
 bring the ends together again and repeat the opera- 
 tion, but reverse it — that is, if you laid the right- 
 hand end over the other in the first knotting, lay 
 the left-hand end over the right in the second. The 
 result is a shipshape square or reef knot which a 
 trained sailor would tie in his sleep; but if you do 
 160 
 
A Tale of a Pigtail 
 
 not reverse the easting of the second knot, you have 
 a slippery granny's knot. As I had been to much 
 trouble in teaching my Chinese crew to knot reef- 
 points correctly, and as I never had known a woman 
 who could keep her shoestrings tied, I admitted the 
 logic of Jack's contention, and put Ling Sum 
 through the knots. He tied correctly a bowline 
 knot, a becket and a carrick bend, a clove hitch, 
 rolling hitch, timber hitch, and all the working- 
 knots used at sea except the last one named to him 
 — Jack's test knot. Ling Sum quickly and smil- 
 ingly tied a granny's knot. 
 
 " We can teach him that. Jack," I said to my 
 scornful and triumphant mate. " He seems to be a 
 good Chinaman. — Got any discharges? " I asked of 
 the applicant. " Any paper talk? " 
 
 He pulled out a letter and gave it to me with 
 the proud air of a good boy showing a favourable 
 school report. It read thus: 
 
 ^^ To whom it may concern. This scoundrel is 
 no doubt the greatest liar and thief unbeheaded. He 
 claims to be a sailor; if so, he is a Pei Ho pirate. 
 He worked a week in the British legation, stole all 
 that was portable, proved himself innocent, and was 
 discharged on general principles and to save the 
 161 
 
Shipmates 
 
 legation. He asks for a character, and I cheerfully 
 give it. Robert Walpole, 
 
 ' ConsTiFs Clerk, Shanghai." 
 
 a i 
 
 Though I read this aloud to the mate, its long 
 words and grammatical construction made it an 
 unknown tongue to the Chinaman, who said, as I 
 handed it back: 
 
 " Velly good man, Mis' Walpo'. Velly good 
 flien' Ling Sum." 
 
 " Yes," I answered. " He says you're a very 
 good Chinaman. I suppose you are. You're all 
 alike. Go for your clothes. We go down to Wu 
 Sung next tide." 
 
 He went away and returned in an hour 
 with his working clothes — one suit tied up in 
 a handkerchief. I had no scruples in shipping him, 
 for I already had five choice thieves in my fore- 
 castle and did not balk at a sixth. But Ling Sum 
 was persona non grata with the others at once. 
 It was his own fault; he was far and away their 
 mental and physical superior, and barring the mat- 
 ter of the granny's knot, the best seaman of them 
 all; but he chose to ignore this legitimate right to 
 his own way among them, and to base his attitude 
 on his orthodoxy. I heard suspicious sounds at sup- 
 162 
 
A Tale of a Pigtail 
 
 per time — squealings, ehatterings and jarrings — 
 arising from the forecastle hatch, but did not in- 
 terfere, having learned that no one but a China- 
 man can settle a Chinese row. However, on 
 the way down the river that evening, I asked Yum 
 Too, who came aft to the wheel with a large 
 lump on his forehead, as to the cause of the 
 sounds. 
 
 '' Him velly bad Chinaman," he answered, as 
 he took the wheel and the course. '' Him Ling 
 Sum velly good sailo'man — velly much fore side. 
 Him no care this. Him talkee 'ligion all time. 
 Got queue — velly much pleased. No care for 
 Chinaman no got queue. Hittee him belayin'-pin. 
 What manner fashion that?" 
 
 From which I gathered that Ling Sum had been 
 reproving his shipmates for their apostasy from 
 Chinese religion. Long acquaintance and contact 
 with foreigners in the seaports, and possibly a 
 former conversion to Christianity, had resulted in 
 their losing their pigtails and growing hair like 
 other human beings. Kenegades they were, and in 
 danger of assault in the inland towns. Ling Sum 
 had merely upheld the ancient traditions of his 
 race; but, as it was a matter affecting discipline, 
 I called him aft and admonished him, flourishing 
 163 
 
Shipmates 
 
 a belaying-pin menacingly in his smiling face as 
 I spoke. 
 
 But lie denied all unworthy intent, and swore 
 by the graves of his fathers — even though the rest 
 of the crew came aft with bruises and contusions to 
 refute him — that he was a well-meaning stranger 
 among the wicked, that they had objected to his 
 fine clothes, to his education, to his queue, and 
 had reviled him, and his father and mother, and 
 all his family, because of his ignorance of a certain 
 mysterious knot which they had learned (it seems 
 they had found his weakness); and for this he 
 had given them kind words and forgiveness until 
 forced to defend himself from their combined as- 
 sault. As he could not show a bruise or a scratch 
 to bear out his testimony, and as the chatter of 
 protest was deafening, I chased them forward to 
 settle it as they could. 
 
 There was no further trouble that night. We 
 reached Wu Sung, at the junction of the Wu Sung 
 river with the Yangtze Kiang, before dark, found 
 a berth, and having set the anchor watches — a mat- 
 ter of form, for my crew invariably slept on watch 
 — Jack and I turned in. ^NTothing moved at night 
 in that narrow and crowded passage, and there was 
 no danger from collision. As for thieves, though 
 164 
 
A Tale of a Pigtail 
 
 we placed no confidence in the integrity of the 
 crew, we did in loaded revolvers placed under our 
 pillows, and in our well-established reputation along 
 the river for willingness to use them on strange 
 Chinamen. Besides, there was nothing stealable 
 in the schooner of greater value than loose belay- 
 ing-pins, pump brakes and buckets, except at such 
 times as I received my freight money too late for 
 banking; then I took it to bed with me and slept 
 lightly. 
 
 This happened on the following day, after we 
 had discharged cargo into a lighter. I received it 
 in silver bullion and Mexican dollars, packed in a six 
 by six square box of lacquer, the loose cover of 
 which was held down by a silken cord, crossed and 
 knotted as a grocer ties up a package. Sam Tung, 
 as sinful-looking a thief as I ever saw, was the 
 only one on deck when I came aboard at dark, 
 and I could tell by the slight change in his seamy 
 countenance that he had seen the box in my hand 
 and knew of its contents. 
 
 " All right, my gentleman," I muttered as I 
 walked aft. " It'll pay you to stick to your end of 
 the schooner to-night." 
 
 Before turning in, I told Jack to stand by for a 
 call, apprising him of the presence of the money 
 165 
 
Shipmates 
 
 and its hiding-place — in mj bunk. But, as usual, 
 with my freight money aboard, I could not go to 
 sleep, and twice that night I arose and sought the 
 deck for a cooling smoke. My first visit was at a 
 quarter past one, and Ah Wen, on watch from one 
 o'clock to two forty, was dozing over the windlass 
 bitt. I awakened him, not too gently, and learned 
 that he had relieved Ling Sum, the new man, and 
 would be followed by Sam Tung, the one who had 
 observed the box. I hoped that Sam's Chinese in- 
 stincts had prevented him from speaking of the 
 box and arranging a combined raid on the cabin; 
 and, though I would have felt easier if he had 
 already stood his anchor watch, I knew that a 
 Chinaman, aware that he is under suspicion, be- 
 comes not only useless, but at times dangerous; so 
 I made no change in the watches. I turned in 
 again, dozed until three, and again came on deck. 
 Sam Tung was snoring on the forehatch, and judg- 
 ing him safest asleep,! went below, lighted the cabin 
 lamp, shaded it from Jack's door, so as not to dis- 
 turb him, and read for a while at the table. Then 
 I fell asleep in the chair, and awakened shortly 
 after in utter darkness. 
 
 Keyed up as I was that night, it did not take 
 many seconds for me to realize where I was, that 
 166 
 
A Tale of a Pigtail 
 
 the cabin lamp ought to be burning, and that there 
 was somebody in the cabin; a dark mass on the 
 floor was slowly moving toward the forward 
 passage. 
 
 ^'Turn out, Jack," I called; "here's a thief! 
 Get your gun! " 
 
 I heard his answer as I sprang for the man on 
 the floor, and as the fellow clenched me and we 
 rolled about, I heard Jack yell: "Pistol's gone, 
 cap'n. Hold on, I'll help you." 
 
 " Get mine — under my pillow," I called with 
 difficulty, for though I was heavily built, my bur- 
 glar was a wrestler, strong and lively. Jack bound- 
 ed across the cabin to my room and then shouted: 
 " ISTot here. Hold him till I get my knife out." 
 
 " I've got him down," I answered, my knee on 
 the fellow's chest and my fingers at his throat. 
 " Give me your knife and light the lamp." 
 
 I received the opened jack-knife, and while 
 Jack fumbled for matches, pressed the point on 
 my man's throat, and said sharply: " Lie quiet, 
 or I'll drive it in." 
 
 So far he had not spoken, but the touch of that 
 
 cold, sharp steel brought out an ear-splitting shriek, 
 
 and developed in him a strength that I was not 
 
 prepared for. He gripped my hand in both of his 
 
 167 
 
shipmates 
 
 and wrenched the knife away from me. With a 
 violent wriggle side wise, he managed to bring one 
 foot up under my stomach; then I was lifted and 
 hurled back against the table; and before I could 
 recover, saw him scramble to his feet and dart out 
 the forward passage. But in that sudden wrench- 
 ing of the knife out of my hands I had felt it cut 
 into his throat. It would identify him, I thought, 
 and was comforted; for in the short struggle my 
 hands had not reached the top of his head, which 
 would have cleared or branded one, at least. 
 
 My first thought was of the box. It was in my 
 bunk, tied up, but empty, as I ascertained by shak- 
 ing it. In the passage, toward which the thief was 
 crawling when I awakened, were our pistols, side 
 by side. Having left the box in the bunk, no 
 doubt, to delay discovery of the theft of its con- 
 tents, it may have been his intention to replace 
 the pistols for the same reason. But before we 
 could speculate on this there arose from forward a 
 screaming and yelling in pidgin-English, which 
 brought us, pistols in hand, to the forward door. 
 Our crew, the whole six, were coming aft — Ling 
 Sum and Sam Tung in the van — and each held 
 his hand to his throat and chattered frantically. 
 
 " Stand where you are," I ordered as I levelled 
 168 
 
A Tale of a Pigtail 
 
 my pistol, and they halted in the glare of light 
 from the open door. " Now, what's the matter? " 
 
 They all showed me their throats, in each of 
 which was a small wound, and out of the babel 
 of explanation and protest which arose, I gathered 
 that they had been stabbed in their sleep by some 
 one, who had then escaped from the forecastle in 
 the darkness; that Sam Tung, on anchor watch, 
 standing erect on the forehatch, looking ahead, was 
 the first to suffer; and, having received his wound 
 from some one who approached from behind, he 
 had only time to observe a dark figure darting 
 down the forecastle hatch. Which I mentally stig- 
 matized as a lie; for if Sam Tung was the thief 
 he had received his cut in the cabin, and if he 
 was innocent, and awake on the hatch, he would 
 have heard the uproar aft and would have been 
 looking that way. 
 
 " Come down below, all of you," I said, and 
 we mustered around the cabin table. I examined 
 the cuts, found that none was serious, and told 
 them so. Then we searched them, but found noth- 
 ing of value — not even Jack's knife. Their cloth- 
 ing, in which they slept, like all sailors, was so 
 soiled that none gave signs of additional stains 
 from the dust of the cabin floor, and their faces 
 12 169 
 
shipmates 
 
 all wore a common expression of injury and 
 wonder. 
 
 '^ Now, look here/' I said sternly, '' one bad 
 Chinaman here. Come aft, turn out lamp, takee 
 two pistol from bunks — put down on floor; takee 
 box from bunk, takee money from box, put box 
 back in bunk all tied up allee same ; go for get pis- 
 tols to puttee back in bunk, wakee me up ; I fight, I 
 make little cut in throat; bad Chinaman run away 
 with knife; cuttee Sam Tung, go down, cuttee one, 
 two, three, four — allee same place — allee so make 
 all same — so no one can tell which bad Chinaman. 
 Chinamen all stay here — in morning all go jail, all 
 six Chinamen." 
 
 Mighty vociferation arose from the six, which 
 I silenced with the levelled revolver. Then they 
 scanned each other's faces, and I watched closely 
 for a telltale expression, but not a face betrayed its 
 owner. At last Jack approached and whispered in 
 my ear: '' Was the box tied up? One of 'em ties 
 granny's knots." 
 
 I bounded into my room and examined the 
 knot in the silken cord. There it was— a lubberly 
 granny, which no sailor should tie. Securing a 
 pair of handcuffs, I nodded to Jack through the 
 door, and he immediately covered Ling Sum with 
 170 
 
A Tale of a Pigtail 
 
 his gun. Then I ironed the gentleman, in spite 
 of his declarations of innocence, and, re-entering 
 my room, brought out the box, held it in the lamp- 
 light, and silently pointed to the knot. They 
 crowded around, peered at it, and then arose the 
 mightiest outburst of Chinese billingsgate that I 
 had ever heard. They surrounded the captive, and 
 in their native tongue told him their opinion of 
 him. We knew what it was by the unmistakable 
 scorn, derision, contempt, and anger in their voices, 
 by the vicious slaps they gave his face, and the 
 vicious tugs they gave his beautiful pigtail; and 
 Sam Tung, as became the betrayed, was the noisi- 
 est; Ling shook his manacled hands and wagged his 
 head in protest; but they brought the box under 
 his nose, pointed out the disgraceful hitch, and 
 renewed their upbraidings. The face of Ling Sum 
 changed as he realized what had convicted him, 
 and he hung his head dejectedly until the last 
 Chinese anathema had rung out and quivered into 
 silence; then he looked reproachfully at me and 
 said: 
 
 " Ling Sum tie knots chop-chop velly good — no 
 tie number one knot all samee Melican. No see — 
 no. can see, how can do. No tell Ling Sum — how 
 can tie knot.'' 
 
 171 
 
Shipmates 
 
 " Why, you bloody-minded thief! " I rejoined 
 hotly, while Jack roared with laughter, " do you 
 blame me for this? Think I ought to have taught 
 you that knot, eh? and then you wouldn't have got 
 caught. TouVe a wonderful nerve.'' 
 
 " If no can see, no can do." 
 
 " Where's the money? " 
 
 " Ling Sum no hab got." 
 
 " Ling Sum goes to jail chop-chop. Chop-chop: 
 Ling Sum no got head." I drew my hand across 
 my throat suggestively; but I doubt that it was the 
 reference to losing his head that aifected him; for 
 he must have known that he was in no danger of 
 his life for robbing a foreigner. But I think he 
 was wanted in jail for some greater crime, and 
 that he feared an investigation into his history, 
 for when I added, " Ling Sum tell where money 
 is, Ling Sum no go to jail," he looked at me quickly 
 and said: 
 
 " Ling Sum step on bundle 'longside main 
 hatch. No can tell — plaps bundle got money." 
 
 " Go out and get it, Jack," I said joyfully. 
 Jack went out and returned with the ship's ditty- 
 bag, which had once held the twine, palms and 
 needles, wax, eyelets and the odds-and-ends used in 
 sailmaking; but it now held my silver, and at its 
 172 
 
A Tale of a Pigtail 
 
 mouth was a long piece of spun-yarn, convenient 
 to fasten the bag to the neck while swimming 
 ashore, and this spun-yarn was knotted granny- 
 fashion. 
 
 It was daylight now, and sounds were arising 
 from the wharves. Turning to the five expectant 
 Chinamen so curiously cleared of suspicion, I said: 
 " Yum Foo, Wang Sing, Ah Wen, Wing Lung, 
 Sam Tung — all good Chinamen — no steal, no lie " 
 — each thief of the five nodded his head in smiling 
 affirmation of this lie — " Ling Sum very bad 
 Chinaman; steal, lie, cut throat — some time go to 
 jail. But I tell him he not go now. Savvy? 
 Still, Ling Sum must get punish. Chinaman 
 punish. Savvy? " 
 
 I handed the key of the handcuffs to Sam Tung, 
 and motioned them to the door. They went, lead- 
 ing Ling Sum, and Jack and I cooked our break- 
 fast. 
 
 As we took in cargo that day I learned that 
 they had Ling Sum still ironed, secured to the 
 pawl-post in the forecastle, and on questioning one 
 of them, was answered by mysterious mutterings 
 about Shanghai; so, supposing that Ling Sum was 
 to receive a good " basting " with bamboos up the 
 river, I dismissed him from my mind. 
 173 
 
Shipmates 
 
 At Shanghai we discharged, took in cargo for 
 Chapu, in Hangchau Bay, and sailed down the 
 river. As we passed the last wharf of the Ameri- 
 can quarter, my crew — all but Ah Wen, who had 
 the wheel and seemed intensely excited — went be- 
 low. Then there arose such an agonized wail as 
 only an afflicted Chinaman can emit, and up the 
 forecastle hatch came Ling Sum, minus his queue, 
 and grasping wildly at the short stump left. "With 
 eyes blazing, and scream after scream coming from 
 his throat, he raced aft, then forward, aft again, 
 and with a wild whoop went overboard. When 
 he appeared on the surface, he struck out for the 
 right bank, yelling occasionally, and as he made 
 good progress, I forebore attempting a rescue. 
 
 His queue will grow in time; but until it does 
 he is a creature far below the animals — as low, 
 and as vile, and as worthy of death as the wickedest 
 foreign devil. 
 
 174 
 
THE MAN AT THE WHEEL 
 
 He and I were the only Americans in the fore- 
 castle; but he had been shanghaied, while I had 
 shipped willingly. Yet though he had come aboard 
 drunk as the drunkest, he was the one man forward 
 who had escaped friction with the mates while they 
 were taking our measures on the first day out. 
 This immunity was not due to his nationality, for 
 I, sober from the start, had suffered woefully — a 
 black eye from the first mate, a sore head from 
 the second, and unkind words from the skipper 
 being my share of the criticism. 
 
 But Fuller was an able seaman in the highest 
 degree. Even while still reeling from the drink 
 within him, he displayed a knowledge of his work, 
 a facility of anticipating happenings, and a readi- 
 ness of judgment, speech, and action that was al- 
 most instinctive. He really gave the officers no 
 possible excuse for fault-finding, and when he had 
 sobered up, gave them reason for strong approval. 
 Tall and straight, with broad, square shoulders and 
 175 
 
Shipmates 
 
 a phenomenal depth of chest — slow and deliberate 
 in speech and manner until occasion arose, then 
 quick as a panther — with a voice like a woman's 
 in conversation, but vibrant and resonant as a 
 chime whistle when calling down from aloft — with 
 bronzed, refined features, heavy black mustache, 
 and kindly eye hiding a latent sparkle — this man 
 gave evidence of mental and physical power far 
 above his needs as a sailor, and which suffered 
 from but one drawback; he himself named it — 
 intemperance. 
 
 He spoke but little in the watch below, and 
 then, usually, as a peace-maker; for, until men 
 become acquainted a ship's crew is an inharmonious 
 muster. Once he became angry; Tim, a bristly- 
 faced Liverpool Irishman, had persistently perse- 
 cuted the ordinary seaman Hans, and on this occa- 
 sion had planted his knuckles under Hans's ear 
 for some small breach of forecastle etiquette. 
 Fuller reached his long right arm out of an upper 
 bunk, seized the Irishman by the collar and shook 
 him until he gasped, then dropped him in a heap. 
 Tim crawled into his bunk whispering and mut- 
 tering curses, and Fuller sat up, his legs dangling 
 over the bunk board. 
 
 " Now, I'll tell you fellows right here, once 
 176 
 
The Man at the Wheel 
 
 for all/' he said, looking down on us, '" you're 
 going to let the Dutchman alone, or answer to 
 me." ITo one spoke. He peered at us all, knocked 
 the ashes out of his pipe, and continued: 
 
 "Do I make myself plain? This is for all 
 of you. With one exception there's not a whole 
 sailorman among you." (I hoped he meant me.) 
 " You don't know your work on deck; you get 
 hammered by the mates, and come growling 
 and whining round the beef -kid; then the biggest 
 of you hit the smaller. Did you ever think that 
 if the mates had less to bother them there'd be 
 less billingsgate and belaying-pin soup? Why 
 don't you learn your work? Compare notes; teach 
 one another; talk about sailorizing, and get to be 
 of some use on deck." 
 
 I ventured to suggest that the mates hammered 
 us for the love of the sport, and that no amount 
 of proficiency would save us. 
 
 " There's something in that, I know," he an- 
 swered more mildly; "but in any case only the 
 worst of you would catch it. Have you noticed 
 that I haven't been struck, or called out of my 
 name yet? Well, I promise you that I won't. I 
 know my work better than the mates know theirs." 
 
 I was silent. 
 
 177 
 
Shipmates 
 
 " Another thing/' he continued — and his voice 
 gathered strength. " I've listened to the talk in 
 this forecastle about the skipper's wife. Now, he's 
 a brute, of course — a whisky-soaked brute — but 
 she's a lady, and my countrywoman. Hear that? 
 My countrywoman. If I hear her spoken of 
 again in anything but terms of the highest respect 
 I'll send that man aft feet first for treatment. I'm 
 an American." 
 
 He rolled back, refilled his pipe and smoked 
 silently. I also was an American — not long from 
 a good home — and I own to a blush of shame that 
 I had not protested at the forecastle discourse con- 
 cerning the sweet-faced, big-eyed little woman who 
 hovered near the after companionway and watched 
 us as a kitten might a pack of dogs; but Fuller 
 had anticipated me, and I could only announce 
 bravely, " I stand by that." 
 
 From this on, though he resumed his quiet 
 gentleness of manner, he dominated the forecastle 
 so thoroughly that there was no further need of 
 dictation. Hans enjoyed immunity from assault 
 and the captain's wife from gossip; we took turns 
 at cleaning the forecastle and attending to the 
 food, and before the trades were reached were on 
 fairly good terms. 
 
 178 
 
The Man at the Wheel 
 
 But before this another phase of Fuller's char- 
 acter was shown to us — he was an entertainer of 
 exceptional ability. We were all impressed by his 
 careful choice of words — we all knew that here 
 was a man able to pass muster among refined people 
 on shore; but not even I, fresh from the public 
 schools, was prepared for the erudite discourse on 
 history and science, poetry and art, which he gave 
 us one watch, inspired by the grog which the skip- 
 per, with drunken generosity, had served out to 
 all hands at the end of a hard reefing match. The 
 liquor had warmed our stomachs and loosened our 
 tongues, but did not conduce to sleep; and it began 
 with Tim's comment on the " domfoolishness of 
 a diwle he'd read about somewhere," who, having 
 been cast away for years, returns to look into the 
 window of his home and see his wife happy in 
 another man's love and another man's children. 
 The foolishness, according to Tim, was in going 
 quietly away instead of inside, to " kick the liver 
 an' lights out o' the other man." 
 
 ^' He wuz no man," concluded Tim, " to jist 
 look in the windy and sneak. An' he wuz no sailor- 
 man, ayether. If I had a wife — Holy Mother, me 
 wid a wife! — but if I had a wife, I wudent lose her. 
 Begob, no. But it's all made up; the felly jist 
 179 
 
Shipmates 
 
 wrote what wuz in his head. It never happened. 
 It cuddent." 
 
 " Enoch Arden, wasn't it? " asked Fuller from 
 above. '' Yes, Tim, it could happen. Tennyson 
 knew more of human nature than you do. It's 
 a hard strain on a man, I admit, but it could 
 happen. It has happened. I knew such a man." 
 
 "Ye did?" 
 
 " Yes, he was shipwrecked, just as the poem 
 says, and came home years later. There was a 
 man in his place, and a big new house built with 
 money his father had left him and which the wife 
 inherited, and there was a baby bom. But he 
 didn't look into the window and clear out. He 
 talked with the woman and found out that the 
 baby would be illegitimatized if he asserted him- 
 self; and though the woman loved him more than 
 the new man, he knew that she loved the baby 
 more than either, so rather than make trouble 
 he quietly decamped without seeing the new man 
 at all." 
 
 "And where'd he go?" asked Tim. 
 
 " To sea, of course." 
 
 It was a treat to hear Fuller talk, and I sounded 
 him, leading from one subject to another until 
 other voices were silent. Beginning with Tenny- 
 180 
 
The Man at the Wheel 
 
 son, he delivered a lecture on modern poets that 
 would have enlightened a Bible class of editors; in 
 fact, he talked us to sleep, for I, the last man awake, 
 was listening to a dissection of Shelley when the 
 words grew dreamy. 
 
 But this " feast of reason and flow of soul " 
 had results detrimental to Fuller's theory of his 
 immunity from abuse. The steward, a well-mean- 
 ing but unwise individual, was in the habit of 
 visiting the forecastle for a smoke with the men 
 before turning in for the night, and arrived on 
 this evening just in time to hear Fuller's discourse 
 on poetry. So impressed was he by the wonder 
 that he sounded Fuller's praises at the cabin table 
 next morning, to the end that the captain, highly 
 indignant at the discovery of such a forecastle law- 
 yer among his men, forthwith made life a burden 
 to Fuller, cursing and shouting at him whenever 
 he came in sight. The captain was a well-built, 
 handsome young man with a fair education and 
 a reddening nose. Had he remained sober long 
 enough to be guided by his natural sense, Fuller 
 might have escaped his wrath; but he tippled con- 
 tinually and smelled vilely. Once his wife pro- 
 tested, and there were sorrow and shame in her 
 blue eyes. 
 
 181 
 
Shipmates 
 
 "Please don't, George/' she said to her hus- 
 band. " He is doing his best." 
 
 But he flung her a curse and pushed her aside; 
 whereupon she went below, crying. 
 
 Another happening lowered Fuller's stock still 
 further. The two mates, " buckos " of the worst 
 type, began shouting at one another in the darkness 
 of a stormy night, each under the impression that 
 the other was an angry and insolent sailor. They 
 met soon on the slanting deck, and though they 
 must have known their mistake by this time, still 
 they went at it, to the intense amusement of all 
 of us, wrestling, striking, and cursing until they 
 rolled to the lee scuppers. It was Fuller who 
 separated them; and he may or may not have 
 earned the gratitude of Mr. Parker, the second 
 mate — under dog in the fight — but he certainly 
 aroused all the hatred that Mr. Oliver, the first 
 officer, was able to feel. It was intensified by what 
 Hans told him (we learned of Hans's and the stew- 
 ard's misdoing afterward). On fine nights he 
 would call this slow-witted young man aft to be 
 wheedled and pumped of forecastle news; and 
 Hans, not able to quote correctly, gave out Fuller's 
 declaration in regard to his own ability in a way 
 which made him say that he knew more than did 
 182 
 
The Man at the Wheel 
 
 the mates. So, though there was bad blood be- 
 tween the first and second mate, the former and 
 the skipper were thoroughly in accord in their 
 opinion of Fuller, and often joined their extensive 
 vocabularies in expressing it. Sometimes, as I 
 noted the sparkle in Fuller's dark eyes, I feared 
 for the ending of this; but he held his temper 
 wonderfully and silenced our sympathizing com- 
 ment in the watch below. 
 
 We had now caught the northeast trade, and 
 about this time my view point was changed from 
 the forecastle to the lazaret. The cause of the 
 transfer has nothing to do with this story, but is 
 touched upon as explaining the somewhat uncon- 
 ventional frame of mind which makes this story 
 possible. When you are flat on your back, with 
 a second mate, bigger and stronger than yourself, 
 kneeling on your chest, gripping your throat and 
 hammering a belaying-pin fortissimo on your bare 
 head until your tongue protrudes and your reeling 
 brain sees things of another world, you are apt to 
 fall back upon your instincts, and later to feel an 
 unregenerate sympathy for mutiny, murder, and 
 manslaughter, which you can acquire in no other 
 way. I reached for my sheath-knife. Shortly af- 
 terward, dazed, breathing hard and unrepentant, I 
 183 
 
shipmates 
 
 was ironed in the half -deck and entered in the offi- 
 cial log for murderous assault on Mr. Parker, with 
 good prospects of bread and water for the passage, 
 and a long term in the penitentiary afterward. Mr. 
 Oliver, our first mate, put the irons on my wrists, 
 and as we descended the hatch, I noticed a sympa- 
 thetic leer showing in his evil face; but whatever 
 of approval this may have indicated he carefully 
 left out of his language. Savage as I felt at the 
 time, I remember philosophizing on the absurd 
 nautical etiquette which required me to " Sir " and 
 " Mr." this ignorant wretch, on whom I would 
 not have wasted three minutes of conversation 
 ashore. He was heavily built, bull-necked, and 
 with a countenance that reminded you of a go- 
 rilla's. Quite different, though equally a villain, 
 was Mr. Parker. He was younger, better educated, 
 and better favoured — possessing a slippery, snaky 
 kind of good looks, and an expression about the 
 mouth which in repose was a sneer, when he was 
 excited a malevolent grin, but when pleased or 
 amused a very pleasant smile. My knife had 
 barely pricked a rib, and he had smiled sweetly as 
 I left the deck. 
 
 Having ironed me, the mate further secured 
 me according to his not very brilliant lights. He 
 184 
 
The Man at the Wheel 
 
 rove a long rope through the links of the shackles, 
 and bringing the ends even, passed a clove-hitch 
 with both parts around a stanchion, then led the 
 two ends forward out of my reach and hitched them 
 to another; but he had left me six feet of rope be- 
 tween the first hitch and my shackles, and this was 
 enough. After one night spent in the half-deck, 
 breathing bilge-water fumes from the scupper-holes, 
 I loosened the hitch with my six feet of slack when 
 night came down again, crawled through it and 
 forward to the other stanchion, cleared away the 
 ends, then coiled up my tether and crept aft past 
 the cabin-trunk to the lazaret, where there were soft 
 oakum and canvas to lie upon, and a hatch above for 
 ventilation. It was about four feet square, and 
 in fine weather was left open. I made this change 
 nightly, returning at daylight to hitch myself to 
 the stanchion. 
 
 About a week after my incarceration, while 
 crawling along the starboard alleyway, I heard a 
 sound through the thin bulkhead which brought 
 me to a stop — a sound of sobbing in a woman's 
 voice, and harsh, masculine profanity. I knew 
 that I was abreast of the captain's room, and I 
 knew of rumours in the ship that he was unkind to 
 his wife. When I could listen no longer, I passed 
 13 185 
 
shipmates 
 
 on to my nest in the lazaret, cursing the drunken 
 brute, and wishing fervently that the fates had 
 made me a policeman instead of a sailor. Musing 
 on the hard lot of the little woman, I fell asleep, to 
 be awakened shortly by voices on deck. 
 
 The ship was close-hauled on the port tack, 
 and out of the spanker over my head the wind 
 hummed with a sound that would have deadened 
 voices less forceful than those of Fuller and the 
 mate. From where I lay I could just distinguish, 
 faintly illumined by the binnacle light, the head 
 and torse of Fuller at the wheel, and a few outlines 
 of Mr. Oliver's burly figure, stamping back and 
 forth across the deck in front of him. It was the 
 blackest night I had ever known in trade-wind 
 waters, and but for the binnacle light and their 
 voices I would not have known them. The mate 
 was speaking. 
 
 " ni take the shine out o' you, you d d sea 
 
 preacher. Know yer work, do you? I've got a 
 few tricks you don't know." 
 
 " What I said, Mr. Oliver," answered Fuller, 
 firmly but respectfully, " was not boastingly, or in 
 comparison with any one aft, but to induce the men 
 to brace up and learn something." 
 
 " You lie, you d d snivelling soul-saver. 
 
 186 
 
The Man at the Wheel 
 
 Don't gi' me any lip; don't you gi' me any lip, or I'll 
 make you smell hell right here." He halted be- 
 fore Fuller and raised his fist. 
 
 " Hold on, sir," said Fuller. " There's prece- 
 dent established, aside from the law in the matter, 
 against striking a man at the wheel. I'll have the 
 best of it, sir." 
 
 " You will, hey? D n the law! " Then 
 
 followed an epithet unprintable, and he struck 
 Fuller in the face. He was bent back over the 
 wheel-box by the force of the blow, but retained 
 his hold on the spokes. 
 
 " There's little chance for a foremast hand 
 in court; but, by God, I've got you foul, Mr. 
 Oliver." 
 
 "Have, hey, you whining hound! Got any 
 witnesses? Take another, you ! " 
 
 Again the epithet; again the big fist launched 
 out, and again Fuller sank back over the wheel- 
 box. 
 
 " Take care — take care ! Don't hit me again," 
 he said hoarsely as he straightened up. " You're 
 right. There are no witnesses if I kill you. Take 
 care, sir." 
 
 " Oh, hell ! " The mate laughed contemptu- 
 ously. Then — -I did not see — it was too dark 
 187 
 
Shipmates 
 
 — I heard the sound of expectoration, and " that's 
 all you're worth " from Mr. Oliver. 
 
 Fuller wiped his face with his bare wrist, and, 
 with a harsh, throaty growl, dropped the wheel 
 and sprang at the mate. They clinched, and as 
 their tightly locked forms disappeared from my 
 sight, I stepped toward the hatch for a peep over 
 the combings. Before I could raise my head, how- 
 ever, a heavy figure launched over the hatch, and 
 I heard a sound as of a breakfast ^gg struck by a 
 knife-blade, then felt a vibration of the lazaret 
 flooring, followed quickly by the quiver of the 
 hatch combing and the floundering thud of arms, 
 legs, and body falling on the deck. One of them 
 had been hurled through the air, head first, at the 
 lee-quarter bitt; but it was not Fuller, as I saw 
 in a second. He was at the wheel, grinding it up, 
 coughing and spitting, snarling and cursing furi- 
 ously, and occasionally rubbing his cheek and chin 
 with his wrist. The ship had come up into the 
 wind, and I heard the long-drawn hail of the look- 
 out on the forecastle deck: " All in the wind for- 
 rard, sir." 
 
 " All right — all right," answered Fuller after 
 a momentary inspection of what was on the deck 
 over my head; and there was a raspy note in his 
 188 
 
The Man at the Wheel 
 
 voice — intentional, or coming of his rage — pecul- 
 iarly like the unpleasant voice of the mate. It 
 does no man good to spit in his face. 
 
 When the sails were full and the ship steady 
 he left the wheel, stepped quickly down to leeward 
 out of my sight, and returned in a moment to his 
 steering. I could not see the expression of his 
 face, but I saw him hold his hand to his fore- 
 head, as a man does with the headache, while he 
 looked aloft at the royal, to windward and ahead, 
 but he did not look at the thing on the deck. 
 
 " Dead," I heard him say. " O God, haven't 
 I trouble enough? He deserved it; and they'd 
 acquit him for my death, but hang me for his." 
 
 Three bells — half past nine — struck on the 
 cabin clock. He rang the strokes on the small bell 
 behind him, and it was repeated forward. In 
 half an hour he would be relieved. 
 
 He spent five minutes of inaction, while I 
 watched, with a dry tongue and throat, every nerve 
 strained in expectancy; then, putting the wheel up 
 a full turn, he dropped it, sprang quickly down 
 past the hatch, and I heard the scraping of boot 
 heels on the deck as he lifted the body. I heard 
 no splash — it was blowing too hard — but knew that 
 he had given the mate the burial he had earned; 
 189 
 
shipmates 
 
 and I knew, too, that if no one else had seen or 
 heard, Fuller had saved himself; for I, a brother- 
 slave in my country's ships, a convict-elect — who 
 had felt the clutch of authority at my throat and 
 seen things of another world — would not have de- 
 nounced him. 
 
 He waited ten minutes — until the mate's body 
 must have been a mile astern — then, putting his 
 hands to his mouth, sent a bellowing call forward: 
 "Man overboard! Man overboard! Call all 
 hands! Come aft here, some o' you! " 
 
 There was confusion indescribable on that deck 
 for a full half -hour. The captain came up drunk, 
 as usual, totally unequal to the situation. The 
 men were excited, and, judging by the few com- 
 ments I heard in their voices, not overzealous to 
 save their chief officer. The second mate alone 
 was steady. Somehow he managed to back the 
 main-yards and get a quarter-boat over; but it re- 
 turned without Mr. Oliver. 
 
 I overheard Fuller explaining earnestly to the 
 captain and second mate that Mr. Oliver had 
 climbed the taffrail to examine the chafed clew- 
 lashing of the spanker; that he had slipped, struck 
 his head on the rail, and fallen overboard; where- 
 upon he had immediately " sung out." 
 190 
 
The Man at the Wheel 
 
 With Mr. Parker in the mate's place and the 
 captain — fairly sober now — standing watch, the 
 ship ran down the northeast trade and into the dol- 
 drums, each day marked by the knocking down or 
 clubbing of one or more of the crew. I knew this 
 from the sounds I heard and from the gossip of 
 Hans, who brought me my meals. 
 
 " I dink I will my knife stick in him, too," 
 he said one day. " Den I coom down here and 
 do no work and be waited on, aindt it? Yah." 
 But when I pulled up my shirt and showed some 
 blue spots left by Mr. Parker's boots — which little 
 attention had followed a brazen and quite unneces- 
 sary request on my part for more slack to my tether 
 — Hans departed, shaking his head sorrowfully. 
 One part of Hans's gossip was gratifying: Fuller, 
 in Mr. Parker's watch, now escaped a great deal 
 of the captain's ill-will and abuse, and from Mr. 
 Parker himself received consideration and even 
 kindness. But the two were united in their tyranny 
 over the rest of the crew, and treated the men 
 harsher than before the disappearance of Mr. 
 Oliver. I ascribed it to the fact that, with their 
 force reduced by a third, they dared not abate one 
 jot of their iron rule, fearing that the crew would 
 take advantage of it; and that in Fuller's case Mr. 
 191 
 
Shipmates 
 
 Parker, more practical than the captain, knew that 
 this man needed no coercion or terrorizing to keep 
 him in order. Also, I considered the fight between 
 the mates, when Fuller had aided him; but another 
 conversation which I listened to one evening de- 
 cided me that gratitude played no part in Mr. 
 Parker's motive. 
 
 It was a fine night. Curiously enough for the 
 latitude, we had a gentle, fair wind which promised 
 to be steady. I had crawled aft cautiously, and on 
 the way had listened to that harrowing sound 
 through the bulkhead which told me that the skip- 
 per was drinking again. I stretched out on my 
 resting-place just as four bells (ten o'clock) struck 
 overhead. Puller relieved the wheel, as I knew 
 by the voice that repeated the course. Then I 
 heard Mr. Parker's step and his voice. 
 
 " Why didn't you take the second mate's berth 
 the old man offered you? " he asked; and as Puller 
 did not reply at once, I rose to my feet and ap- 
 proached the hatch. This promised to be inter- 
 esting. 
 
 " I didn't want it, sir," he said at last. " I am 
 not competent, and am satisfied in the forecastle.'^ 
 
 " Possibly you are, Mr. Puller — now that your 
 pet friend is over the side. I say ^ Mr.' Puller, 
 192 
 
The Man at the Wheel 
 
 because I know a good man when I see him. Don't 
 tell me you're not competent. I know better. 
 You've walked the poop-deck for years." 
 
 Fuller did not reply. 
 
 " Now, I've been your friend — you can't deny 
 that — and I want you aft here." 
 
 "May I ask why, sir? It's safe enough to 
 disrate an officer, but not safe to promote a fore- 
 mast hand against his will and make him responsi- 
 ble. He could dismast the ship, plead incompe- 
 tency, and the owners would get no insurance. 
 Why do you want me aft against my will? " 
 
 " Take the berth and I'll tell you. It's a good 
 thing for us both." 
 
 "]^o, sir; I prefer staying forward." 
 
 The officer paced the deck a few turns and 
 halted. 
 
 " I want you aft," he said, " because I like a 
 man of your calibre. You're one man in a 
 thousand. The other nine hundred and ninety- 
 nine would have lost their heads the other night." 
 
 " What do you mean, sir? " 
 
 " What do I mean? Fuller, what I didn't see 
 I heard from the forward companionway; what I 
 didn't hear I saw from the corner of the house. 
 
 I heard the mate d ning you. I saw him flung 
 
 193 
 
shipmates 
 
 across the deck, heard him land, saw you pitch him 
 over, and heard you sing out. I give you credit 
 for a cool head, but — I can hang you." 
 
 Fuller made no response. 
 
 " I could have raised hell at the time, Fuller, 
 but I approved of the thing; and, as I said, I liked 
 you. Now, I want you with me. Take the 
 berth.'' 
 
 "Why?" 
 
 There was no " sir " added to the word, and 
 Fuller's voice was hoarse. 
 
 " Well — just this. May as well tell you. The 
 skipper's got clean green bills in his room to the 
 tune of thirty thousand dollars — no right to it — 
 what his wife got from her first husband's es- 
 tate. I wormed this out o' the drunken fool. 
 He sold out everything, and they mean to set- 
 tle in Frisco. Now — do you want part o' that 
 money? " 
 
 " Shouldn't wonder. Our right to it is as good 
 as his." 
 
 " Of course. Now we're talking. I only want 
 a third for my share, but I want the woman. You 
 can have two-thirds." 
 
 " What's the plan? " asked Fuller, with a kind 
 of dry laugh in his voice. 
 
 194 
 
The Man at the Wheel 
 
 " Dead easy. Send him after the mate. We 
 can take the ship to Frisco.'' 
 
 ^^ And you want a third and the woman. Does 
 she want you ? '' 
 
 " Oh, that won't matter long. She'll be glad 
 o' the change. The fool cuffs her and cusses her 
 too much. Of course a woman needs a bat in the 
 nose once in a while, but where's the sense in spoil- 
 ing good looks? She's a beauty if she'd stop blub- 
 bering. You leave that part to me. I'll win the 
 woman all right." 
 
 "How?" 
 
 " Kiss her, hug her, tell her I love her. 
 Oh, I know how. Her kid died lately, and she 
 w^ants something to love. I'll give her the tommy- 
 rot women like. Dammit, I'd like to begin to- 
 night; the skipper's dead drunk. Almost grabbed 
 her the other night in the companionway." 
 
 Fuller waited a little before speaking; then his 
 words came with a business-like distinctness. 
 
 " And in case I refuse to come aft as second 
 mate, aid you in killing the skipper, take two-thirds 
 of the money we find while you take one-third and 
 the woman, you intend to denounce me for killing 
 the mate?" 
 
 " Well — ^yes — that's about the size of it. I'll 
 195 
 
shipmates 
 
 explain mj delay by seeming frightened — afraid 
 of a like fate. It'll go in court." 
 
 "ril think a little. I don't want to hang. I've 
 work to do in this world." 
 
 " All right. Think quick. I want your an- 
 swer next trick at the wheel. Here, Fuller, it's 
 a little late in the deal — but, have a drink. Some 
 of the skipper's good stuff. Steward sneaked it 
 for me." 
 
 He drew out a flask, but Fuller declined. " I've 
 quit drinking forever," he said. '' I've work to 
 do." 
 
 The mate went forward and began pacing the 
 half -deck, as I could tell by the sound of his foot- 
 steps. From my position near the quarter-bitt I 
 could only see the upper part of Fuller's tall figure, 
 standing at the wheel, holding his hand to his fore- 
 head as he had done before; but in the stillness of 
 the tropic night I could hear plainly, not only the 
 mate's footfalls, but Fuller's heavy breathing, the 
 guttural snoring of the captain in his berth, and 
 the sound of light footsteps on the forward com- 
 panionway stairs — then voices in the lee alleyway. 
 Fuller stepped to the lee side of the wheel, and 
 holding it with one hand, bent his body nearly to a 
 right angle as he looked forward. 
 196 
 
The Man at the Wheel 
 
 "What do you mean, sir?'' came a plaintive 
 and indignant voice. " Mr. Parker, I forbid you. 
 What are you thinking of? Do you want me to 
 speak to my husband? " 
 
 " Why, no, little woman ; of course not. 
 What's the sense? He'd only hit you again. Just 
 one; no one can see." 
 
 There was a faint scuffle of feet on the deck, a 
 stifled plaint that was half gasp, and a sound from 
 Fuller's lips that I had never heard outside of a 
 menagerie. He left the wheel, and I raised my 
 head through the hatch, but he had disappeared 
 in the alley. Then I heard an oath — furious and 
 all but inarticulate — a scream, a heavy stamping 
 of feet, choking words of protest in the mate's 
 voice, the crashing of a heavy body on the deck, 
 and the thud, thud, thud, of something hard 
 striking it — the vibrations coming along the 
 deck. 
 
 " Lay aft here the watch," came a roar in Ful- 
 ler's vibrant voice. " Take the wheel, one hand. 
 I'm through. One o' you call the skipper." 
 
 The shuffling of feet sounded on the deck as the 
 
 men scampered aft, and I lowered my head, but 
 
 remained where I could watch. Before the men 
 
 reached the quarter Fuller appeared around the 
 
 197 
 
shipmates 
 
 comer of the house supporting the nearly uncon- 
 scious woman. 
 
 " Steady, little girl/' he said tenderly. " Steady 
 — don't faint. It's almost over." 
 
 " Oh, John," she wailed, '' don't blame — don't 
 blame me. I couldn't help it. I came up for air 
 — the fumes stifled me — and I didn't know — I 
 didn't know — and he struck me again to- 
 night " 
 
 " Never mind, Alice ; I don't blame you," he 
 said, giving the wheel a spin with his free hand. 
 '^ I never blamed you. You've borne it nobly, and 
 I hoped we could hold out, but — it ends this night 
 if I kill him, too. Take the wheel here, one o' 
 you," he added sternly to the group of men, " and 
 call the skipper." 
 
 "What's the row? " asked Irish Tim, as he 
 grasped the spokes. " Where's the mate. Fuller? " 
 
 Now came two or three men along the lee alley, 
 and one answered Tim. 
 
 " Dead," he said. " Dead as he can be. My 
 God, what a sight! Fuller, yer done for; ye've 
 stamped his face off." 
 
 '' Call the skipper." 
 
 A man descended the after companionway, and 
 not knowing where to look, sang out loudly, wak- 
 198 
 
The Man at the Wheel 
 
 ing first the steward in the forward cabin, who ap- 
 peared — later, the captain. 
 
 ^^ What's the matter here?" asked this indi- 
 vidual thickly, as he reached the deck. " Where's 
 Mr. Parker?" 
 
 " Dead," answered Fuller, still supporting the 
 captain's wife. " Dead for assaulting this woman. 
 D — — n you," he yelled insanely, " can't you care 
 for the wife that was given you ? " 
 
 " What — why — what — " stuttered the dazed 
 captain, backing toward the companionway. " As- 
 saulting my wife? Who — Alice? " he bawled, sud- 
 denly his faculties crystallizing to anger. '' Whpt's 
 this? Get away from that man. Get down be- 
 low. Parker assaulted you? Then, by God, you 
 gave him leave, you " 
 
 "Be careful, you hound; be careful," inter- 
 rupted Puller, placing the woman's hands on the 
 edge of the house and advancing, while the men 
 drew back wonderingly. I had not scrupled to 
 lift my head through the hatch, and had seen the 
 well-meaning but unwise steward disappear down 
 the stairs. He returned at this juncture and 
 handed a bright revolver to the captain, who raised 
 it unsteadily, scattering the men into the alley- 
 ways. 
 
 199 
 
Shipmates 
 
 " Lower that gun," said Fuller. 
 
 " Who are you — to talk to me like this aboard 
 my ship? This is mutiny. Go forrard. "Who 
 are you, anyway? " Armed as he was, it was plain 
 that he was frightened. 
 
 " I'm the Fool Killer. Lower that gun quick- 
 ly. My neck's already in the halter." 
 
 The captain lowered the pistol. There was 
 terrible menace in Fuller's even voice and delib- 
 erate advance. 
 
 " I've another name," he continued, as he 
 stopped before the wavering captain. " Ever 
 hear it?" 
 
 He bent forward and said something in a low 
 voice — which I could not hear. Whatever it was, 
 the effect on the captain was astonishing. 
 
 ^^Hell and damnation!" he shouted. "You 
 
 alive — d n you! By God, you die again — 
 
 that's all." He levelled the pistol and fired, but his 
 hand was unsteady, and the bullet went clear. Be- 
 fore he could cock the pistol again a scream rang 
 out, and his wife threw herself on his breast. 
 
 " You shall not, George. You shall not kill 
 
 him," she exclaimed, as she frantically clutched at 
 
 the pistol. He struck her down with an oath, and 
 
 was then busy with Fuller, who had seized his wrist 
 
 200 
 
The Man at the Wheel 
 
 and was twisting the pistol out of his hand. This 
 was soon accomplished. I believe that Fuller was 
 at that moment a maniac with a maniac's strength. 
 He held the captain by the collar, at arm's length, 
 until he had laid the pistol on the house; then with 
 a few preliminary shakes and a sudden swing side- 
 ways, he jerked him off his feet. For a fraction 
 of a second the captain was nearly horizontal, face 
 upward, in mid-air. Then Fuller's right arm 
 slipped under his back, his left hand left his collar, 
 and his left elbow pressed into his throat. In this 
 position, choking and spluttering, the captain was 
 carried, like a doll in the arms of a child, behind 
 the wheel-box, out of my sight. But in a moment I 
 saw his legs, wide apart and bent at the knees, rise 
 into view as he was launched feet first over the 
 taffrail. A shriek began on his lips, but the water 
 cut it short, and before this shriek sounded Fuller 
 had regained the pistol. 
 
 "Forward with you all!" he roared as he 
 vaulted to the top of the house. " Down off the 
 poop, the lot of you. Muster at the main hatch and 
 wait there. Steward," he called to the frightened 
 flunkey in the companionway, " assist this lady 
 down below, and then take the wheel." 
 
 But the poor creature had arisen and was al- 
 14 201 
 
shipmates 
 
 ready stumbling down the stairs — perhaps to es- 
 cape the pitiful appeals for help coming out of 
 the sea astern — and the steward was soon at the 
 wheel. 
 
 " Holy Mother! " said Tim as he relinquished 
 it. " An' will ye lave him drown, Fuller? '^ 
 
 " Silence," thundered Fuller, levelling the 
 pistol at him. " Go forward to the main hatch. 
 Yes — if you want to know — and kill the first man 
 that lays a hand on a boat gripe." 
 
 Tim hurried after the others, who had lost 
 no time in obeying Fuller's command; and when 
 the heart-rending cries from astern were hushed 
 Fuller followed. I also followed, below decks, 
 weak in the knees and dizzy, but feverish with curi- 
 osity to know what was to happen next. At the 
 head of the booby-hatch steps I heard Fuller, at 
 the break of the poop, order all hands called, and 
 when their shuffling footsteps indicated their ap- 
 pearance, I listened to the address he made 
 them. 
 
 " Men," he said, in a steady voice, but with 
 a ring and a snap to each word, "this ship needs a 
 skipper and a mate — but we wont elect them. 
 There's not a man among you fit for it. So I ap- 
 point myself skipper, and the man in the half-deck 
 202 
 
The Man at the Wheel 
 
 mate. I'll take the ship to Frisco and deliver her 
 to a tug. Now, let me impress something on your 
 minds. You heard me tell the skipper that my 
 neck was in the halter. He chose to ignore that 
 fact. It was my life or his, and I won. I killed 
 the mate for insulting a lady — my countrywoman 
 — and announced that reason; but I had another, 
 which I announce to you, though I do not feel 
 called upon to explain — it was my life 'gainst his. 
 Do you understand? I have killed no one without 
 reason; but, give me reason and I will kill you all 
 cheerfully. Understand? If a man of you enters 
 the cabin, or affronts the lady who lives in it by 
 word or look, I'll drop that man in his tracks. 
 Such little things as disobedience of orders, or lack 
 of respect to myself or the man I appoint mate can 
 be adjusted with a club, perhaps with fists. Against 
 this you will have watch-and-watch, full and plenty 
 of grub and water, and civil words while you do 
 your work. Is this satisfactory, or is any one look- 
 ing for trouble? I'm the Fool Killer, remember, 
 and my neck's in the halter." 
 
 " It's all right. Fuller," began Tim, '' we " 
 
 " Hold on, there," thundered Fuller. " What 
 did you say? " 
 
 " Captain Fuller, I mean, sorr. It's all right, 
 203 
 
Shipmates 
 
 son. I'm wid ye on this, an' I'll do as I'm told; 
 an' it's a good man kin do that, sorr." 
 
 " It's all right, sir," " We'll stand by you, sir," 
 ^^ Served 'em right," '' We'll back you up, sir," 
 sang out others. 
 
 " Very well. Is the carpenter on deck? " 
 
 '' Yes, sir," answered Chips. 
 
 " Take a file down the half-deck and file off 
 those shackles. IN'o time to look for the keys. Ee- 
 lieve the wheel, one of you." 
 
 At this I chose to descend and hug my stan- 
 chion. The excited carpenter did not notice that I 
 was not priDperly hitched, and I was soon on deck, 
 being introduced to my shipmates as their officer. 
 It was my first promotion, but I was not unduly 
 elated. 
 
 In the morning we gave the body of Mr. Parker 
 sea burial, at which function I played the hypocrite 
 and read the Lord's Prayer to the men — Fuller be- 
 ing below with a hysterical woman. It was three 
 days before she could be left alone — three days be- 
 fore Fuller and myself got any sleep; for he dared 
 not leave her, and I stood both watches. 
 
 There was no trouble with the men. Not once 
 in the long passage around the Horn did Fuller 
 need to raise his voice in anger or dictation, and 
 204 
 
The Man at the Wheel 
 
 the only violent language used to the men was on 
 one occasion when I overheard Tim and Hans dis- 
 cussing the complaisance of our passenger in taking 
 up so readily with the slayer of her husband. When 
 Hans remarked that his " country womans did not 
 do dot/' I took official action — bumping their heads 
 together hard, and reminding them of the Enoch 
 Arden story Fuller had once told us under the 
 warming influence of the grog. Having thus 
 started a forecastle argument, I dropped the sub- 
 ject, satisfied that the crew would soon see through 
 the grindstone — satisfied that Fuller would ap- 
 prove. 
 
 Though he had pleaded incompetency for the 
 berth of second mate, he proved himself a master 
 navigator, sneaking the ship around the Horn from 
 " fifty to fifty " in two weeks, and as we sailed 
 north in the Pacific, and the woman in his care 
 recovered health and beauty and confidence, the 
 latent sparkle in Fuller's eyes changed to the softest 
 light that ever shone in the eyes of a friend. 
 
 At the Farallone Islands, twenty-five miles 
 west of the Golden Gate, we made fast a tug's 
 tow-line, and while some of us unbent the canvas, 
 the rest, under Fuller, hoisted over the biggest and 
 best boat we carried, fitting her with spar and 
 205 
 
Shipmates 
 
 lug-sail, ballasting her with two heavy trunks, and 
 filling in with at least a month's supply of food and 
 water. Then Fuller called us around him, thanked 
 us and shook the hands of all, formally handed the 
 ship over to me, and assisted the smiling little 
 woman down the side ladder, following with a 
 small hand-bag, which I do not doubt contained the 
 '' clean green bills '' spoken of by Mr. Parker. 
 We cast off the painter, the boat dropped astern, 
 and Fuller hoisted the lug; then, as he pointed the 
 boat's nose due west and crossed our wake, we gave 
 him three cheers, which he answered with his hat, 
 and the woman with her handkerchief. 
 
 We anchored the ship in San Francisco harbor. 
 Then, after some stern and scandalized questioning 
 by the authorities, we philosophically went to jail, 
 held as witnesses, while revenue cutters and tugs 
 searched the coast for a white ship's boat containing 
 a man and woman. At the end of six months' 
 detention the men were released, and I was tried, 
 on my own admission and the evidence of the official 
 log, for murderous assault on an officer, and given 
 three months more; for a scapegoat was needed, 
 and they never found Fuller. He had disappeared 
 into the vastness of the Pacific Ocean; but not to 
 die, that I know, as I know the man. 
 206 
 
The Man at the Wheel 
 
 Good-bye, John Fuller, or whoever you be, and 
 good luck to you, wherever you be. You were a 
 good friend, a good shipmate, and a brave seaman 
 and navigator; and you killed your enemies with 
 the weapons you were bom with, and reclaimed 
 your wife like a man. But, under the law of your 
 country, which denies to a sailor the right of self- 
 defence, and which you knew too well to brave, 
 you are a mutineer, a pirate, and a murderer. And 
 this is the reason why I, who have gone down into 
 the deep, dark valley and returned by the scratch 
 of a sheath-knife, give this story to the world, 
 fearing that they will catch you and hang you 
 when I am not on hand to testify. Fare you well. 
 Fuller. 
 
 207 
 
THE DAY OP THE DOG 
 
 "Light the glim — who's got a match?" 
 
 " Vere is mine kist? I get some stick-plaster." 
 
 " Keep yer dukes off thot bag; it's mine." 
 
 " It vas in my bunk." 
 
 " Yer bunk, ye bloody Dutchman ! Take an 
 upper bunk — where ye belong." 
 
 "Who's got a match? I'm bleedin' like a 
 stuck pig." 
 
 " That mate or me won't finish the voyage 'f 
 he kicks me again." 
 
 " 'No oil in the blasted lamp ! Go aft to the 
 steward, one o' ye, an' get some oil." 
 
 " Where's that ordinary seaman? Go get some 
 oil; find him in the galley." 
 
 " There goes royal sheets — we'll have a reefin' 
 match 'fore mornin'." 
 
 " An' I'd be a lot o' use on a yard to-night; I 
 can't take a good breath." 
 
 " I dink he stove in your rips, Yijn, ven he 
 209 
 
Shipmates 
 
 yump off de fo'castle on you. He loose mine 
 teet'." 
 
 '' He won't do it often. Wonder if sheath- 
 knives '11 go in this ship ? " 
 
 ^' In my last ship dey dake 'em avay by der 
 dock." 
 
 "Dry up — you an' yer last ship; it's the likes 
 o' you that ruins American ships. What d'ye let 
 go the t'gallant-sheet for? " 
 
 " I dink it vas der bowline. It vas der bowline- 
 pin on." 
 
 " Where's that boy? Did he go for some oil? " 
 
 " Here he is. Got some oil? " 
 
 "Steward says to light up a slush-bucket to- 
 night. He ain't got no oil to spare, but'll break 
 some out in the mornin'." 
 
 " He be dam." 
 
 " The mate says to rout out the dead man an' 
 send him aft." 
 
 "Where is he? Get an iron slush-bucket out 
 o' the bosun's locker, an' ask Chips for some oakum 
 — ^never mind, here's a bunch. Where's that 
 feller? Can he move yet? " 
 
 " Here he is. Hey, matey, heave out. Gen- 
 tleman aft on the poop wants to shake hands. Out 
 o' that wi' you! " 
 
 210 
 
The Day of the Dog 
 
 " That'll do, that'll do. Am I the corpse that 
 is wanted? " 
 
 /^Turn out!" 
 
 " I've listened to the conversation, but can 
 understand nothing of it beyond the profanity. 
 Can any one inform me in the darkness where I 
 am? Am I at sea? " 
 
 " You are — at sea, one day out, in the hottest, 
 bloodiest packet that floats. The mate wants you. 
 Get out, or he'll be here. Come on, now; we've 
 had trouble enough this day." 
 
 The flare of burning oakum in a bucket of 
 grease illumined the forecastle and the disfigured 
 faces of seven men who were clustered near a lower 
 bunk. From this bunk scrambled a sad wreck. A 
 well-built young man it was, with a shock of long, 
 thick hair overhanging a clean-cut face, which the 
 flickering light showed to be as bronzed by sun 
 and wind as those of the sailors about him; but in 
 this face were weary, bloodshot eyes, and tell-tale 
 lines that should not have been there; a quarter- 
 inch stubble of beard and mustache covered the 
 lower part, and it was further embellished by the 
 grime of the gutter. The raggedest rags that could 
 carry the name of shirt, trousers, or coat clothed 
 the body; sockless feet showed through holes in the 
 211 
 
Shipmates 
 
 shoes, and from the shoulders, under the coat, hung 
 by a piece of cord an empty tomato can with bril- 
 liant label. 
 
 "Tramp, be the powers!" said one. "Isn't 
 thot the name o' the bird, Jim? " 
 
 " Eight you are, Dennis," said the one ad- 
 dressed — a tall, active American: he who had been 
 called " Yim " by the sympathizing Swede with 
 the " loosed " teeth. 
 
 " Yes," said the wreck, " tramp, that's my latest 
 role. How'd I get here? I was in a saloon, drink- 
 ing, but I don't remember any more. I might 
 have been drugged. My head feels light." 
 
 " It'll be heavier with a few bumps on it," said 
 Dennis. " Ye've been shanghaied 'long with three 
 or four more of us. Gwan aft an' git bumped; 
 we've had our share." 
 
 "What craft is this?" 
 
 " Ship Indiana o' New York. Ye'U know her 
 better 'fore ye see the next pint o' beer." 
 
 "Indiana?" repeated the wreck. "And do 
 you happen to know, any of you, who owns her? " 
 
 " Western Packet Line," said Jim; " J. L. 
 Greenheart's the owner. Get out o' here; the mate 
 wants to see you." 
 
 " Thank you; but I don't particularly care to 
 212 
 
The Day of the Dog 
 
 see the mate. The captain will answer very well 
 for me. Allow me to introduce myself — J. L. 
 Greenheart, owner of this ship and employer of 
 every man on board." 
 
 Stricken as were those men with sore spots 
 and aching bones, they burst into uproarious laugh- 
 ter at this flippant declaration, during which the 
 ragged one moved toward the door and passed out. 
 
 ^^ Lord help him/' said Jim, " if he goes aft 
 with that bluff! The mates are horses, but the 
 skipper's a whole team." 
 
 Ten minutes later the ragged one returned — 
 feet first and unconscious — in the arms of two of 
 the watch on deck, who bundled him into the bunk 
 he had lately quitted and said to the inquiring 
 men: 
 
 '' We don't know what happened. They had 
 a lively muss on the poop, an' the skipper an' mates 
 must ha' jumped on him; then they called us aft 
 to get him." 
 
 The two passed out, and the seven men, with 
 no time for sympathy or nursing, chose, with much 
 bickering, the bunks they were to occupy for 
 the passage at least, patched up their hurts with 
 w^hat appliances they possessed, and turned in. But 
 they had no sooner stretched out than the rasp- 
 213 
 
shipmates 
 
 ing voice of the second mate was heard at the 
 door. 
 
 "Heye, in there!" he called. "Who's that 
 dock rat yeVe got with you? " 
 
 " Don't know, Mr. Barker/' answered Jim from 
 his bunk. " He didn't sign when we did — shang- 
 haied in place of a good man, likely — but says he's 
 the owner." 
 
 " Did he know the owner's name without being 
 told?" 
 
 "IsTo, sir — nor the name of the ship; we told 
 him." 
 
 "Where is he?" 
 
 " In the forrard lower bunk, sir — this side." 
 
 The second officer stepped in — the still burning 
 slush-bucket showing him to be a red-whiskered, 
 red-eyed giant — and scanned closely the grimy fea- 
 tures of this latest pupil in nautical etiquette. As 
 though there was hypnotic power in the red eyes, 
 the injured man opened his own and returned the 
 stare, at the same time feeling with his fingers a 
 discoloured swelling on his forehead that bore 
 plainly the stamp of a boot-heel. 
 
 " An all-round hobo; get him out at eight bells, 
 if he can move," said the officer as he left the 
 forecastle. 
 
 214 
 
The Day of the Dog 
 
 At four bells the helmsman was relieved, and 
 reported to his mates in the watch on deck as 
 follows : 
 
 " He marches up the poop steps an' tells the 
 mate suthin' pretty sharp, an' then, 'fore the mate 
 could stop him, he was down below routin' out the 
 skipper. They had a run-in down there — I heard 
 'em plain — he was orderin' the skipper to put back 
 to I^ew York an' land him, an' the skipper got a 
 black eye out of it. Then the second mate turns 
 out, an' the first mate goes down, an' between 'em 
 all three they boosts him up the co'panionway an' 
 kicks him round the poop till he can't wiggle." 
 
 And when the lookout came down and told of 
 his appearing on the forecastle deck shortly after 
 the second mate's visit and sitting for an hour on 
 the port anchor, muttering to himself and answer- 
 ing no questions, the watch on deck unanimously 
 agreed that he was demented. At eight bells he 
 was in his bunk, and responded to the vigorous 
 shaking he received by planting his feet in the 
 stomach of Dennis, the shaker, and sending him 
 gasping into the opposite bunk. 
 
 " Howly Mother," groaned the sailor, when he 
 could breathe. " Say, you scrapin's o' Newgate, 
 try yer heels on some one ilse — the second mate, 
 215 
 
Shipmates 
 
 fr inshtance. Me cuticle won't hold any more 
 shpots/' 
 
 Dennis had been disciplined the day before, 
 mainly while prostrate. 
 
 " Kicking seems to be the vogue here/' said 
 the man as he rolled out, ^^ and I've been a Prince- 
 ton half-back, so I'm in it. I've been kicked out 
 of the cabin and off the quarter-deck of my own 
 ship — pounded into insensibility with boot heels. 
 Why is this?" 
 
 " Now look-a here," said a sturdy, thoughtful- 
 eyed Englishman — he who had vociferated for oil 
 when the watch went below — "take my advice: 
 turn to an' be civil, an' do as yer told. You can't 
 run the after-end of her — ye've tried it; you can't 
 run the fo'castle — there's too many against you. 
 Stow that guff 'bout ownin' this ship or ye'U be 
 killed. There ain't a Dutchman aboard but what's 
 a better man than you, and every one of us has 
 been hammered an' kicked till we didn't know our 
 names. 'Cause why? 'Cause it's the rule in yer 
 blasted Yankee ships to break in the crew with 
 handspikes. You've caught it harder, 'cause ye 
 didn't know better than to go aft lookin' for trouble. 
 The sooner ye find yer place an' larn yer work, the 
 better for you." 
 
 216 
 
The Day of the Dog 
 
 ^^ Thank you for the advice; I'll take it if I 
 have to, but it's against my principles to work — 
 especially under compulsion. My head aches, and 
 I'm pretty hungry, otherwise I " 
 
 '^ Turn out ! " roared a voice at the door, the 
 command being accompanied by choice epithet and 
 profanity. " Bear a hand." 
 
 " Who is that? " asked the man of principles. 
 " I've heard that voice." 
 
 ^^ Second mate," whispered the Englishman; 
 '' don't go first," he added, mercifully, ^^ nor last." 
 
 The first man to leave the forecastle was Lars, 
 the Swede, who received a blow in the face that 
 sent him reeling against the fife-rail. Then came 
 Dennis; then Tom, the Englishman; followed by 
 Ned, a burly German; Fred, the ordinary seaman; 
 and David, a loose-jointed Highlander, who the day 
 before had lost all his front teeth by the swinging 
 blow of a heaver and had since, for obvious reasons, 
 added no Scotch dialect to the forecastle discourse. 
 All these escaped that big fist, the second blow, 
 according to packet-ship ethics, being reserved for 
 the last man out; and the last man out now was 
 the man of rags. 
 
 But Mr. Barker had not time to deliver that 
 blow. A dirty fist preceded its owner through 
 15 217 
 
shipmates 
 
 the door, striking the mate between the eyes, and 
 before the whirling points of light had ceased to 
 dazzle his inner vision a second blow, crashing 
 under his ear, sent him, big man that he was, 
 nearly as far as Lars had gone. Recovering him- 
 self, with a furious oath he seized a belaying-pin 
 from the fife-rail and sprang at his assailant. One 
 futile blow only he dealt, and the pin was wrenched 
 from his grasp and dropped to the deck; then with 
 an iron-hard elbow pressing his throat, and a sinewy 
 left arm bearing, fulcrum-like, on his backbone, he 
 was bent over, gasping, struggling, and vainly 
 striking, lifted from his feet, and hurled headlong 
 to the forehatch. 
 
 " You are one of the three with whom I dealt 
 in the cabin,'' said a voice above him in the dark- 
 ness; "now face me alone, curse you! Get up 
 here and fight it out." 
 
 " Mr. Pratt," called the officer, rising unstead- 
 ily. "Mr, Pratt! Come forrard, sir." 
 
 It was a black night, with a promise of dirty 
 weather to come in the sky astern, and the ship 
 was charging along under top-gallant sails before a 
 half-gale of wind, against which no sounds from 
 near the bow could easily reach the quarter-deck. 
 Only at rare intervals did the full moon show 
 218 
 
The Day of the Dog 
 
 through the dense storm clouds racing overhead, 
 and Mr. Barker was alone on a dark deck, sur- 
 rounded by fifteen men, not one of whom would 
 have prayed for him. Dazed as he was, he knew 
 his -danger — knew that all these men needed was 
 a leader, a master-spirit, to arouse them from the 
 submissive apathy of the foremast hand to bloody 
 retaliation. And a leader seemed to have appeared. 
 Lars complained bitterly as he held his bleeding 
 face. Angry mutterings came from the others; 
 some drew sheath-knives, some abstracted belaying- 
 pins from the rail; and a few, Tom among them, 
 supplied themselves with capstan-bars from the rack 
 at the break of the top-gallant forecastle. 
 
 '' Mr. Pratt ! " bawled the demoralized officer 
 as he backed away from his challenger; then, as 
 though suddenly remembering, he drew a revolver 
 from his pocket and pointed it at the man confront- 
 ing him. At that moment, a lithe, springy man 
 bounded into the group from around the comer 
 of the forward house. Flourishing an iron belay- 
 ing-pin, he yelled: 
 
 "What's the matter here? Lay aft, you 
 hounds — lay aft! Aft with you all. Mr. Barker, 
 you here? " 
 
 " Here you are, sir — this feller here." 
 219 
 
shipmates 
 
 A momentary appearance of tlie moon gave 
 the newcomer light to see the levelled pistol and 
 the man covered by it, who seemed to be hesitating 
 and about to look around. One bound carried him 
 close. Down crashed the iron pin on the man's 
 head, and without a word or a groan he fell, limp 
 and lifeless, to the edge of the hatch, and rolled to 
 the deck. A menacing circle closed around the two 
 officers. " Shame, shame ! '' cried the men. ^^ He 
 warn't in his right mind; he didn't know what he 
 was doin'." 
 
 " It's bloody murder, that's what it is," shouted 
 Tom in a fury of horror and rage. '' Blast you, 
 kill a man from behind who only wanted a fair 
 fight ! " He whirled his capstan-bar aloft, but held 
 it poised, for he was looking into the barrel of the 
 chief officer's pistol. 
 
 "Drop that handspike — drop it quick!" said 
 Mr. Pratt. " Quick, or I'll shoot you dead." 
 
 Tom allowed the six-foot club to slip slowly 
 through his fingers until it struck the deck; then 
 he let it fall, saying sulkily : " Needs must when 
 the devil drives; but it's only a matter of time, a 
 matter of time. I'll have you hung." 
 
 " Put up your knives, every one of you. Put 
 those belaying-pins back in their places, quick/^ 
 220 
 
The Day of the Dog 
 
 snapped the officer. The two pistols wandered 
 around the group, and the men fell back and obeyed 
 him. 
 
 '' Now lay aft, every man jack of you." 
 
 The incipient mutiny was quelled. They were 
 driven aft before the pistols to the main hatch, 
 where they surrendered their sheath-knives and re- 
 ceived a clean-cut lecture on their moral defects 
 from the first officer; then Tom was invited to 
 insert his hands into a pair of shackles. He ac- 
 cepted the invitation (the pistols were still in evi- 
 dence); and while he was being fastened to a 
 stanchion in the half -deck the men at the wheel 
 and lookout were relieved and the port watch dis- 
 missed. 
 
 Tom, with forecastle philosophy, congratulated 
 himself on his present immunity from standing 
 watch and stretched out for a nap, flat on his broad 
 back, with arms elevated and hanging by the 
 handcuffs above his head. He had nearly dozed 
 off when the booby-hatch was opened and another 
 prisoner was bundled down the steps, moaning pite- 
 ously; and, as he was being ironed to the next 
 stanchion, Tom recognised, by the light of the 
 mate's lantern, the ragged violator of precedent. 
 
 '' Blow me, matey, but y^r hard to kill," he 
 221 
 
shipmates 
 
 said, when the mate had gone. '' I thought you 
 were done for. Know me? I'm the feller that 
 advised ye to go slow.'' 
 
 " Oh, yes. What happened? Why are we 
 here ? What place is this ? " 
 
 " 'Tween decks. We were unkind to the 
 mates — blast 'em — that's why we're here. I'd 
 ha' knocked the first mate stiffer than he knocked 
 you 'f it hadn't been for his gun." 
 
 "Was it the first mate who struck me? Oh, 
 there'll be an accounting — my head! Oh, my 
 head! " groaned the man. " I believe I'm injured 
 for life." 
 
 " Ye were too reckless, old man ; ye oughter 
 ha' watched for the mate. He's a holy terror; he 
 half killed all hands yesterday; that's why we 
 couldn't stand by ye better. He jumped off the 
 fo'castle on to Dennis, an' the two o' them kicked 
 him all round the forehatch. David was knocked 
 endwise with a heaver for goin' to windward o' the 
 skipper, an' his teeth are all gone. Lars got soaked 
 at the wheel — that's against the law, too; and ye 
 see him get it again to-night. Dutch Ned let go 
 the to'-gallant sheet, an' the second mate sent him 
 twenty feet. I got it in the nose just 'fore goin' 
 below at eight bells, for no reason on earth but 
 222 
 
The Day of the Dog 
 
 'cause I was the only man left who hadn't got 
 soaked — besides Fred, the boy; he got clear. An' 
 the other watch got it just as bad. We're all used 
 up an' no good at all; but you got it hardest, 'cause 
 ye earned it. Blow me, but ye done the second 
 mate up brown." 
 
 '^ But why is it necessary, and why do you 
 submit to it — all you men at the mercy of three ? " 
 
 " Pistols, matey, the pistols. An' Yankee 
 mates are all trained buckoes — rather fight than 
 eat. When the fists an' boots an' belayin'-pins an' 
 handspikes can't do the business they pull their 
 guns — we knew that. An' then, too, mutiny's a 
 serious thing when yer hauled up 'fore the commis- 
 sioner: all the law's mostly against the sailors." 
 
 " I have been drugged, kidnapped, and twice 
 beaten insensible; there is law against that." 
 
 " If ye can get it; but ye can't." 
 
 " I'll try— I'll try; I've read a little law." 
 
 " Yer not a sailorman, matey, I can see; what's 
 yer trade?" 
 
 " I have none." 
 
 "Never worked?" 
 
 " ITo." 
 
 " Jim says you fellers just hoof it round the 
 country, sleepin' under haystacks summer-times an' 
 223 
 
Shipmates 
 
 goin' to jail winters. It's better than goin' to sea. 
 But ye talk like a man that's been educated once. 
 "What brought ye down to this — whisky?'^ 
 
 " Y-e-s, and knockout drops. My head is get- 
 ting worse. I can't talk. How can I lie down? 
 What fiends they are! My head — my head! " 
 
 Tom advised the suffering wretch how to dis- 
 pose himself, and again considered the question 
 of sleep. But no sleep came to him that night. 
 The injured man began muttering to himself; and 
 this muttering, at times intelligible, at others not, 
 often rising to a shriek of pain, lasted until morning 
 and kept him awake. In spite of his life of hard 
 knocks, Tom had so far learned nothing of the 
 alternate delirium and lucidity consequent on slight 
 brain concussion, and supposed this to be the raving 
 of insanity. Kind-hearted as he was, the ceaseless 
 jargon grated on his nerves. He listened to it and 
 the sounds of shortening sail overhead, and wished 
 himself on deck, in the wet and cold, away from 
 this suffering, beyond his power to understand or 
 relieve. At daylight, nearly at the shrieking point 
 himself, he welcomed the throwing back of the 
 scuttle and the appearance of the first mate, who, 
 in yellow sou'-wester and long oilskin coat, de- 
 scended the ladder and stepped to the side of his 
 224 
 
The Day of the Dog 
 
 victim. Mr. Pratt was a young man, well put to- 
 gether, with black hair and whiskers, and dull 
 gray eyes set in a putty-coloured face. It was 
 a face that might grin, but never could smile; 
 yet it wore, as it bent over the moaning, tossing 
 bundle of rags and blood, an expression of mental 
 disquiet. 
 
 " How long's he been like this? " he suddenly 
 demanded of Tom. 
 
 " Ever since he come down, sir. If you please, 
 sir, I'd like to be put somewhere else or turn to. 
 I wasn't myself last night, Mr. Pratt. I'll be crazy 
 as he is if I stay here with him." 
 
 In answer to this Tom received two or three 
 kicks in the ribs; then the officer went on deck, re- 
 turning in a few moments with the captain of the 
 ship — a man who in the role of jolly sea-dog might 
 play a part well borne out by his physique. He 
 was the very opposite in appearance to his chief 
 mate — short, broad, and smooth-faced, with an up- 
 turn to the corners of his mouth, and twinkling 
 blue eyes, which, in spite of a dark circle around 
 one of them, gave his countenance a deceptive look 
 of suppressed merriment. 
 
 " So, ho, my man," he said, breezily, " so you 
 nearly kill my second officer, do you? " 
 225 
 
shipmates 
 
 " ~Soi this fellow, Captain Millen/' said the 
 mate; ^^ not him, the other. This man raised a 
 handspike over me and threatened to hang me." 
 
 " I was excited, cappen,'' said Tom. " I 
 thought Mr. Pratt had killed the man, which he 
 didn't.'^ 
 
 " Will you promise to turn to and do your 
 work, and obey orders civilly, if I let you out? '' 
 
 '' Yes, sir." 
 
 "Unlock him, Mr. Pratt." 
 
 Tom was released. Rising to his feet, he said, 
 respectfully: "Will I go on deck, sir?" 
 
 " Go on," answered the captain. 
 
 But Tom was not to escape so easily. As he 
 passed them Captain Milieu's sledge-like fist shot 
 out, and he fell in a heap. 
 
 " On deck with you," thundered the captain, 
 whose eyes had not ceased to twinkle during the 
 performance. Tom rose again, sneaked up the lad- 
 der and passed forward, where he showed his ship- 
 mates an eye that in ten minutes was blacker than 
 the captain's. 
 
 Captain Millen and Mr. Pratt stooped over and 
 examined the remaining prisoner, now unconscious 
 and breathing heavily, and the mate asked, un- 
 easily: " Think I've done for him, sir? " 
 226 
 
The Day of the Dog 
 
 '' Can't tell; he's all blood and the cut's hidden, 
 and I wouldn't touch him with a fish-pole. I never 
 shipped this hoodlum; the runners kept back a man 
 and sent him." 
 
 " The Englishman says he's crazy — the men 
 forrard, too; might be, or his yarn about owning 
 the ship's just the bluff of a tramp." 
 
 "Possibly he's daft; but he didn't know the 
 ship's name or the owner's name till the men told 
 him, so Mr. Barker says; and when I told him in 
 the cabin that the owner was a gray-headed man, 
 it threw him out. Guess it's only a bluff. Have 
 you logged him? " 
 
 " Yes, sir. Wrote him down just after I ironed 
 him." 
 
 "I'll put him in the official log as a maniac; 
 evidence enough even without the men's testimony 
 — forces himself into my cabin and claims to own 
 the ship, and orders me to run back to New York 
 and land him; unprovoked assault on an officer, 
 and display of maniacal strength. You see, Mr. 
 Pratt, if he dies it'll look better for us, and par- 
 ticularly you, to have him crazy; extra severity is 
 necessary and excusable in dealing with dangerous 
 lunatics. But we don't want him to die — we're 
 too short-handed." 
 
 227 
 
Shipmates 
 
 " Shall I have the steward down to fix him 
 up, sir? " 
 
 " Yes, and tell him to get what he wants from 
 the medicine chest; and better be more careful, Mr. 
 Pratt; it don't pay to get the law after you. I 
 know it was dark and Mr. Barker was badly scared; 
 but, just the same, a light whack will always an- 
 swer. N'ever strike a man near the temple, es- 
 pecially with an iron belaying-pin or a hand- 
 spike; and when you have him down, kick him 
 on the legs or above the short ribs. It's alto- 
 gether unnecessary to disable a man, and un- 
 wise with a short crew. Be more careful, Mr. 
 Pratt." 
 
 " Yes, sir," said the pupil humbly; " but they 
 had their knives out, and I had no time to pick 
 spots; I just let go." 
 
 They left the half -deck, and the steward, busy 
 with the cabin breakfast, was ordered to desist and 
 attend to the wants of the prisoner, which repug- 
 nant duty he performed perfunctorily, yet with 
 the result of bringing him to consciousness and 
 inducing him to eat. This, his first meal since he 
 had come aboard, was followed by a refreshing 
 sleep, with his bandaged head pillowed on a coil 
 of new rope; and when he wakened in the afternoon 
 228 
 
The Day of the Dog 
 
 he was able, with his shackles removed to his an- 
 kles, to minister to his own hurts. 
 
 His condition improved steadily; but a week 
 passed before his nerves and faculties were suf- 
 ficiently under control to warrant him in, as he 
 expressed it, " taking another fall out o' them." 
 He sent a request for an interview to the captain, 
 who granted it. 
 
 " Well, what d'ye want? '' he roared, before he 
 was half-way down the ladder. 
 
 " Want to talk to you,'' answered the uncon- 
 quered wreck, in nearly as loud a tone. 
 
 " Y' do, hey? Well, talk civil, and be quick 
 about it." 
 
 ^^ Exactly. I am anxious to impress upon 
 your mind, as quickly as your mind will receive 
 the impression, the fact that you have made a seri- 
 ous mistake — that you have maltreated and con- 
 fined in irons, on board one of his own ships, John 
 L. Greenheart, your employer. You have not met 
 him before, because you have only dealt with 
 James L. Greenheart, his uncle and manager." 
 
 " Oh, you've struck a new lay, have you — in- 
 vented a nephew to carry out your bluff? Well, 
 it don't go." But there was a look of intelligent 
 earnestness in the weary eyes of the claimant that 
 229 
 
Shipmates 
 
 induced Captain Millen to continue in defence of 
 his denial — a needless waste of words, liad lie 
 stopped to think. 
 
 " I've sailed in this employ twenty-five years/' 
 he stormed; " and I know, if I know anything, that 
 there are no vagabonds in the Greenheart family. 
 Why, you infernal jail-bird, your dirty hide is as 
 tanned as a shell-back's from tramping the high- 
 ways." 
 
 " Just back from a yachting cruise in southern 
 waters, captain — I haven't yet learned your 
 name." 
 
 " Eats! And when did you shave last? What 
 kind of clothes do ship-owners wear? " 
 
 '' I was slumming disguised as a tramp when 
 I was drugged and kidnapped. As for being un- 
 shaved, I was in the middle of a champagne spree 
 — or I shouldn't have gone slumming at all — and 
 scissored off my beard to heighten the disguise." 
 
 Captain Millen did not know what ^' slum- 
 ming " meant, and did not care to ask, so he lis- 
 tened no further. The interview ended with a 
 hearty round of profane abuse from him, and the 
 aphorism, " Every dog has his day," from the 
 other. 
 
 A few days later he sent a second request to 
 230 
 
The Day of the Dog 
 
 the quarter-deck for a talk with the captain, but 
 the favour was not granted. Fred, the messenger, 
 who now brought his meals from the forecastle, 
 repeated the errand on the following day, was 
 kicked off the quarter-deck, and refused to go 
 again; so it was another week before he was able to 
 communicate. Then Mr. Barker, rummaging the 
 half -deck in the line of duty, listened to a proposi- 
 tion that he be allowed to work with the crew on 
 terms of abdication and submission. This brought 
 the captain. 
 
 " My health is suffering from this confine- 
 ment," he said. " I can not eat the swill you feed 
 to me without the appetite coming from exercise in 
 the open air. I am willing to work as a common 
 sailor; and as you will not recognise the name I 
 give you, I will answer to any.'' 
 
 " Will you shut up about that owner racket? '' 
 
 '' I will." 
 
 " And do as you're told, and try to learn your 
 work, so that you can be worth your grub? " 
 
 '' Yes." 
 
 "^Yes'? Say ^ Yes, sir,' when you speak to 
 me or the officers. Learn that first." 
 
 "Yes, sir." 
 
 " All right; and mind you, any monkey work'll 
 231 
 
Shipmates 
 
 get you into more trouble. You're on the articles 
 as Hans Johanne Von Dagerman, Dutchman, able 
 seaman, fourteen dollars a month, and a month's 
 advance — remember that when you're paid off. 
 And you're down in my official log as a dangerous 
 lunatic. If you raise any row aboard my ship, 
 you'll be shot, and your character and record will 
 excuse it. Understand?" 
 
 '' I do. I accept the warning, the name, the 
 nationality, and the conditions — even the lunacy. 
 Only, captain, as I am officially insane, I can not 
 be punished if I kill you all three — remember 
 that." The weary eyes were sparkling. 
 
 '' Oh, that's your game, is it? Want to get out 
 to kill somebody? Down you go in my log as 
 threatening my life and the lives of my officers, and 
 here you stay in double-irons on bread and water. '^ 
 
 So he was logged again, and another pair of 
 manacles fastened to his wrists, with a foot of chain 
 connecting the centre links to the stanchion. This 
 gave him scope to lift from the deck to his mouth 
 the one biscuit allowed him each day, and to drink 
 from his tomato can, which had been saved for 
 him. But it was not the diet that broke him down. 
 The water was good; and the biscuit, though not 
 the soft, fluffy morsel eaten at tea-tables on shore, 
 232 
 
The Day of the Dog 
 
 was the cleanest and sweetest food on the forecastle 
 menu, and one a day was as much as he could mas- 
 ticate during his waking hours. It was the confine- 
 ment and double-irons. After three weeks, pale and 
 emaciated, he sent up another plea for liberty, in 
 which he relinquished the privileges of the insane; 
 and to Captain Millen, when he appeared, he prom- 
 ised a line of good behaviour while on board which 
 debarred him the right to return a blow. He made 
 this promise on his honour, which he said was all 
 they had left him. As the ship was short-handed, 
 the captain accepted the promise and his services. 
 Then, with his tomato can in his hand, able seaman 
 Hans Johanne Von Dagerman, as we must now 
 know him, went forward, a member of the star- 
 board watch. At the end of the first day he had 
 proved his incapacity and was disrated to ordinary 
 seaman, at eleven dollars a month. This did not 
 trouble him, until, having heard of the " slop- 
 chest " — the store of clothing which captains lay 
 in to sell to sailors at sea — he learned that he could 
 not purchase until out of debt to the ship. His pay 
 had stopped when he became a prisoner, and the 
 time required to work off the fourteen dollars ad- 
 vance charged against him brought the ship, bound 
 to Shanghai, well into the chilly weather to the 
 16 233 
 
shipmates 
 
 south of Cape of Good Hope before he could draw 
 from the slop-chest ; and then he bought, not cloth- 
 ing, but salt-water soap, with which he washed his 
 own and the scant supply of rags contributed by his 
 pitying shipmates, and took a chilly bath over the 
 bows with a draw-bucket. He was certainly insane, 
 and the men not only pitied him but feared him, 
 forbearing all the petty persecutions which able 
 seamen may inflict on a green hand in the watch 
 below. He occasionally borrowed his friend Tom's 
 scissors and looking-glass and kept his growing 
 beard trimmed to a point — an outlandish, lubberly 
 style, inspired, no doubt, by his lunacy. He manu- 
 factured, from the inner bristles of a condemned 
 paint-brush, a fairly serviceable tooth-brush, with 
 which, and a piece of bath-brick coaxed from the 
 cook, he scoured his teeth — remarkably white and 
 well-set — after each meal. Every morning, no 
 matter what the weather, he took his douche-bath, 
 using up valuable time in his watch below for the 
 performance. When he had earned more money, 
 he bought clothing, and paid his debts to his mates 
 in kind — new shirts, etc., for old; and then only did 
 he buy for himself. He refused to talk of his past, 
 but frankly confessed to the others that he was 
 crazy. All these idiosyncrasies counted against 
 234 
 
The Day of the Dog 
 
 him, and drifting aft, through the medium of the 
 cook and steward, were entered in the official log 
 as additional evidence of his mental derangemnt. 
 
 He seemed to know something of sailors' work 
 when he began — that is, he knew starboard from 
 port, and the names of the sails, but not the ropes; 
 and he could steer well enough to take his trick in 
 fine weather. He learned rapidly, tutored by Tom 
 and Jim; and, though often making mistakes that 
 brought him abuse and sometimes knockdowns, he 
 never resented, only showing, by the sombre spark- 
 ling of his weary eyes, that he appreciated and re- 
 membered. The big second mate, however, though 
 prolific in profanely worded expressions of disap- 
 proval, avoided personal contact with him, candidly 
 admitting to Mr. Pratt that once was enough for 
 one lifetime and that he took no stock in the prom- 
 ises of crazy men. 
 
 At Shanghai, Hans Johanne Yon Dagerman 
 applied for liberty to go ashore, which was denied 
 him; for he had drawn his wages up to date in slop- 
 clothing, and with nothing to hold him to the ship, 
 he might desert. As a consequence, he slipped 
 overboard in the night, swam ashore, hid until 
 morning, and entered the office of the American 
 consul just as Captain Millen had finished reading 
 235 
 
Shipmates 
 
 to that gentleman from the official log an account 
 of his misdoing. The consul listened to the de- 
 serter's story, and was so impressed with its un- 
 truthfulness and so incensed by his violent de- 
 mands that he depose Captain Millen from com- 
 mand, that he ordered him back to the ship in 
 irons. He remained in the half -deck until the ship 
 sailed for New York, and was then glad to be re- 
 leased on a second promise of good conduct. 
 
 On the homeward passage he kept his place and 
 his promise, becoming, under the influence of his 
 watch-mates, who began to like him, a fairly pro- 
 ficient sailorman — quick and intelligent in judg- 
 ment, active and strong in the execution of orders. 
 The ozone of the sea, with his hygienic personal 
 habits, religiously clung to, had cleared the blood- 
 shot eye, smoothed the premature lines in his sun- 
 burned face, and transformed him from the dilapi- 
 dated wreck of humanity first introduced to as 
 healthy and manly-looking a sailor as ever pulled 
 a rope. 
 
 The ship reached New York, and Captain Mil- 
 len, according to instructions brought to him at 
 Quarantine, anchored the Indiana off Staten Island 
 pending the vacating of her dock by another ship. 
 As this would not be for a fortnight, the men were 
 236 
 
The Day of the Dog 
 
 sent ashore on a tug, and three days later paid off 
 at the shipping-office. Then they disappeared from 
 the ken and concern of Captain Millen and his offi- 
 cers, who, with the steward, remained by the ship, 
 killing time as best they could. Smoking lazily un- 
 der the quarter-deck awning one day, they became 
 interested in a large steam yacht approaching on 
 the starboard quarter. A dainty piece of cabinet- 
 work she was, glistening with varnish paint and 
 polished brass, with the American yacht ensign at 
 the stern and the burgee of the l^ew York Yacht 
 Club at the fore-truck, yet showing, by her square 
 stern and gaffs peaked from the deck, her probable 
 English origin. Blue-shirted sailors dotted her 
 white deck, two uniformed officers conned her from 
 the bridge; and aft, on the fan-tail, seated in a 
 wicker-work deck chair, was a white-haired old 
 gentleman. Captain Millen, viewing her through 
 his glasses, suddenly exclaimed: 
 
 "Why, it's old Greenheart! Getting gay in 
 his old age, buying steam yachts. Hope he won't 
 dock my pay to make up for this." 
 
 As the beautiful craft drew up alongside and 
 
 stopped, the old gentleman arose and took off his 
 
 cap, which salute they answered; then a gig was 
 
 lowered, manned by a neatly dressed crew, and 
 
 237 
 
Shipmates 
 
 steered to the ship's gangway by a spruce young 
 cockswain, who mounted the side and approached 
 them. Touching his cap, he said: 
 
 " Mr. Greenheart would like to see Captain 
 Millen, Mr. Pratt, and Mr. Barker on board the 
 yacht.'' 
 
 " Well, well — certainly — yes, of course," said 
 the captain. "Pratt, get a collar on; you, too. 
 Barker. 'Tisn't every day we get into good so- 
 ciety. Hurry up. Eeady in a minute, young fel- 
 low." The cockswain descended to the gig, and 
 the two mates to their rooms, where they made 
 such hurried toilet as the urgency would admit of. 
 As they came up, the captain said impressively: 
 
 " Don't let on, now, that you expect anything: 
 the old man's finicky; but I think this means pro- 
 motion for all of us. The new ship was launched 
 last week, and I'm more than likely to get her. 
 That'll leave a vacancy here, and Pve spoken well 
 of both of you. But don't let on." 
 
 They entered the gig and were pulled to the 
 yacht, where, on climbing the gangway steps, they 
 found the side manned for them. Two lines of 
 men, marshalled by a keen-eyed second mate, who 
 stared curiously at the visitors, stretched across 
 the deck, forming a lane through which they must 
 238 
 
The Day of the Dog 
 
 pass. And these two lines were composed of the 
 port and starboard watches of the Indiana, spick 
 and span, in clean blue uniform, each man gazing 
 stonily over the shoulder of his vis-d-vis, and only 
 one giving any sign of recognition. David, who had 
 not smiled during the voyage, now grinned cheer- 
 fully around a set of false teeth. Agape with as- 
 tonishment, the three visitors passed on until they 
 were met by the smiling old gentleman, who shook 
 hands with them and said: 
 
 " A little out of the ordinary, captain — no, not 
 my yacht — my nephew's. He has just returned 
 from abroad, and thinks he was in the China seas 
 about the time you were there. He wants to meet 
 you and compare notes, and suggested a spin down 
 the bay. John,'' he called down the cabin stairs, 
 ^' will you come up? Captain Milieu is here. Al- 
 low me to introduce you. Gentlemen, my nephew, 
 Mr. Greenheart. John, this is Captain Millen, our 
 commodore " 
 
 " Exactly." 
 
 Hans Johanne Yon Dagerman had come up the 
 stairs and seated himself in the deck chair. His 
 tar-stained hands were hidden in gloves; his sym- 
 metrical figure was clad in the New York Yacht 
 Club uniform, and the weary eyes glittered in his 
 239 
 
Shipmates 
 
 bronzed face with an expression as deadly in its 
 earnestness as was the gesture which brought two 
 revolvers from his pockets and up to a line with 
 the visitors' heads. 
 
 "Exactly/^ he repeated; "we've met before. 
 Don't trouble yourself to introduce them, uncle — 
 allow me. Allow me to make you acquainted with 
 three as black-hearted, inhuman scoundrels as ever 
 disgraced humanity." 
 
 "Why, John — John, what does this mean?" 
 exclaimed the puzzled old gentleman, while Cap- 
 tain Millen, pale and embarrassed, stuttered: 
 
 "I didn't know, sir; why didn't you tell me? " 
 Mr. Pratt and Mr. Barker said nothing, but looked 
 from the levelled pistols forward to the two lines 
 of observant men, and noticed that the yacht was 
 under way and now heading for sea. 
 
 "Uncle, how long has Captain Millen com- 
 manded a ship for father? " 
 
 "Over twenty-five years, John; and he now 
 stands first — as good, capable, and honest a captain 
 as ever sailed a ship. I am astonished." 
 
 " Um-humph — I see. Yet I am afraid that if 
 
 father knows now how his money was made — how 
 
 every dollar was wrung from the sweat, and the 
 
 blood, and the suffering of slaves — he is not resting 
 
 240 
 
The Day of the Dog 
 
 easy in his grave. Uncle, you are getting old. In 
 a week I shall expect a statement of the business 
 of the line, with the names and whereabouts of 
 the ships and the names of the captains. There is 
 going to be one line of American sailing ships con- 
 ducted on humane principles. But before you re- 
 linquish control, examine the official log of the 
 Indiana for the last voyage, and you will learn 
 that one Hans Johanne Yon Dagerman is insane 
 and not responsible for his actions. An official 
 log is excellent testimony in court. Now, then, 
 you three, off with your coats and throw them down 
 the companionway — quickly, or I'll lift the tops 
 of your heads." 
 
 He was still seated in the deck chair, but his 
 voice rang out like the blare of a trumpet; and 
 they obeyed him, while the old gentleman wrung 
 his hands nervously. 
 
 " Turn your trousers pockets inside out,'^ he 
 commanded, and was obeyed again. 
 
 " I^ow, boys," he called excitedly, " they 
 haven't any pistols, and we've got them right where 
 we want them. Tom — Jim — Ned — hurrah! here; 
 come on! Lars — drive in; there's a railful of brass 
 belay ing-pins; there's a rack of handspikes; David, 
 remember your teeth. Come on, Fred! Come on, 
 241 
 
Shipmates 
 
 the whole crowd of you! Let them know how it 
 feels. Give it to them! " 
 
 An hour later, three men — scarred, bleeding, 
 and groaning — stripped to remnants of undercloth- 
 ing, conscious of nothing but their terrible pain, 
 were lowered into a boat and landed at the wharf 
 of Bellevue Hospital, from which institution 
 emanated, in a few days, certain official notifications 
 to the police which resulted in certain ofiicial in- 
 quiries that were immediately hushed. 
 
 A few days later a shocked and agitated old 
 gentleman betook himself to the mountains to be 
 treated for nervous prostration, and in a few months 
 a young clubman — former good fellow, lately re- 
 turned from abroad — had excited much gossip and 
 puzzled comment among his friends because of 
 his serious demeanour, changed habits, and strict 
 attention to business. 
 
 242 
 
AT THE END OF THE MAN-ROPE 
 
 Mr. Arbuckle's reputation was international, 
 and from the view-point of shipmasters and owners 
 it was good. Aside from slight mention of an in- 
 dependence of character which had prevented their 
 recommending him for a command, captains with 
 whom he had sailed spoke well of him. They 
 agreed that he knew his business. He could '' lick 
 a crew into shape " before the green hands had 
 learned the ropes. He could get more work out 
 of them than could ordinarily be got out of double 
 their number. He could take a lofty, skysail 
 yarder — dingy and rusty from a long stay at the 
 dock — and with the poorest of crews could have 
 her spick and span as a yacht before reaching the 
 Horn or the Cape. In a sudden squall he could 
 shorten down to top-gallant sails before the watch 
 below could reach the deck to help. In short, he 
 was, as one skipper expressed it, ^^ the two ends 
 and the bight of a sailor," and, in the opinion of 
 all of them, the best chief mate out of New York. 
 243 
 
Shipmates 
 
 The opinion of sailors who had signed under him 
 was equally unanimous, but, being unfit for publi- 
 cation, is not given here. It does not matter. 
 Gossip of the forecastle and sailors' boarding 
 house would not have influenced Captain Haskins 
 at this stage of his development, even had he heard 
 it. A secret and unsatisfied yearning for higher 
 things, hidden in his soul since his first voyage with 
 his father, would have risen up to offset such 
 gossip. 
 
 At ship-chandlers' stores, agents' and consuls' 
 offices, and at ship-masters' tables, he had listened 
 to tales told by his confreres of mutinous crews, 
 double-irons and bread and water, belaying-pin and 
 handspike medicine, powder and buckshot argu- 
 ments, and other details incident to the government 
 of big ships; and he, the little, withered, kindly- 
 faced old man, who had never struck a blow or re- 
 ceived one, who did not need a mate to keep his 
 men at work, whose ancient little vessel was known 
 as the Sailors' Home, would have lived such expe- 
 riences and told such tales. His humdrum life 
 palled upon him. Hence his secret yearnings — 
 hence his delight when, looking for a mate at Cal- 
 lao, he was introduced by the consul to Mr. George 
 Arbuckle, the crack chief officer of big ships, the 
 244 
 
At the End of the Man-rope 
 
 dashing, handsome six-footer whose reputation was 
 so good, who for twenty years had signed in nothing 
 smaller than 2,000 tons register, and who would 
 sign with Captain Haskins now only because ship- 
 wreck had left him penniless, and the consul 
 having procured him a berth, declined further 
 assistance. 
 
 " FU take the berth, captain," he said, " and 
 be aboard in the morning; but there's one thing 
 I stick out for. There's no second mate, you say, 
 so I'll have more than my share of the work. What 
 I want is, no interference between me and the men. 
 I'm not used to it, in the first place; and then, I'll 
 have no time for it. I don't believe in coddling 
 men, and if I break one o' their heads — that's my 
 business. If I kill one o' them — that's my busi- 
 ness too; but I'll expect my money at quaran- 
 tine, as usual, and a chance to skip before we dock." 
 
 " Certainly, certainly," stammered the little 
 captain. '^ I understand, Mr. Arbuckle. A mate 
 has rights which a master is bound to respect. I 
 leave things entirely to you — as far as the work 
 goes. You know your business. I heard of you 
 ten years ago. I have six in the forecastle. A 
 little stirring up won't hurt 'em. Suit yourself. 
 Stir 'em up, if you like." 
 245 
 
Shipmates 
 
 So Mr. George Arbuckle became mate of the 
 little brigantine Warrior, loaded and cleared for 
 New York. On bis way to tbe dock in the morning 
 lie stopped at the consulate to post a letter home, 
 and listened to this from the white-haired old 
 consul : 
 
 ^' I heard you speak carelessly of breaking 
 heads and killing men. You have done this 
 before — I have heard of you — and will possibly do 
 it again; but, be assured, sir, on the word of an 
 old man who has studied men and events, the wrong 
 we do comes home to us this side of the grave, and 
 the men we kill come back to watch us die. Here 
 is a letter, just in from the Frisco steamer, for 
 one of your crew." 
 
 Mr. Arbuckle laughed at the admonition, 
 shook hands with the consul, pocketed the letter, 
 and went on board. When he had changed his 
 clothes and reached the deck, he found that Cap- 
 tain Haskins had mustered the crew at the 
 main-mast. 
 
 " These are my men, Mr. Arbuckle," said the 
 captain. " Men, this is Mr. Arbuckle, who goes 
 home mate with us." 
 
 A gray-bearded man, elderly but active, stepped 
 forward from the group, and ducking his head with 
 246 
 
At the End of the Man-rope 
 
 a conciliatory grin, said, partly to the captain, partly 
 to the officer: 
 
 " I knew Mr. Arbuckle when he was a boy, sir, 
 though I don't s'pose he 'members me. I lived in 
 Tompkinsville a while. He used to chum wi' my 
 nephew — my namesake. My name's Martin 
 Mathews, sir." 
 
 Mr. Arbuckle made no immediate response. 
 He was looking into each face with a dispassionate 
 stare, and only gave the old sailor his share of the 
 scrutiny. When he had finished the inspection 
 he said quietly to the crew as a whole: 
 
 " I've taken your measure. Now, let me tell 
 you at the start — I expect when I speak to a 
 man that that man will jump — not walk, or run, 
 but jump. Understand? Then we can get 
 along. But, if he don't — if I have to speak 
 twice to a man — that man'U wish himself dead. 
 Understand? My name's Arbuckle. Ever hear 
 o' me? My first name is Mister. Remember 
 that." 
 
 The men — all but the negro cook — shifted their 
 feet uneasily and dropped their eyes when his 
 searching glance met theirs. But the cook re- 
 turned his stare. 
 
 " I think, sir," said Martin, " you'll find us 
 247 
 
Shipmates 
 
 all right. I've sailed three v'yages wi' Captain 
 Haskins." 
 
 " Two and a half too many. And right here, 
 old man, let me say to you: I've no use for townies 
 aboard ship. The less you have to say about Tomp- 
 kinsville, the better for you. Go f orrard, the lot 
 of you." 
 
 They obeyed him, with misgiving in their faces, 
 though Captain Haskins smiled his delight. Here 
 was the right kind of a mate. But for a few days, 
 during which the brigantine put to sea, nothing 
 further occurred to further satisfy his yearnings 
 or justify the misgivings of the men. Mr. Ar- 
 buckle proved his efficiency as an officer. In navi- 
 gation he was superior to Captain Haskins, and in 
 seamanship above the criticism of old Martin, an 
 erudite forecastle lawyer. The men, too, impressed 
 by his certain mastery of his profession, and zealous 
 to please an officer they respected, forestalled the 
 first beginnings of disapproval, until Tom, an intel- 
 ligent young fellow, fresh from the navy, answered 
 a command with " Very good, sir," instead of the 
 " Ay, ay, sir " of the merchant marine. Obvi- 
 ously, no self-respecting officer could brook such 
 an oifence; so Tom was promptly knocked down, 
 stepped upon, kicked in the face and instructed. 
 248 
 
Ai the End of the Man-rope 
 
 " I want none o' your d d man-o'-war eti- 
 quette here/' said the mate sternly, as the dazed 
 sailor arose. " Answer me properly, or I'll cut 
 the liver out o' you. Hear me? Come now, what 
 d'ye say? " 
 
 " Ay, ay, sir," stammered Tom, too aston- 
 ished, as well as disabled, to resent this treat- 
 ment. He was not cowardly, but no sane man 
 merely resents the assaults of a tiger, and Tom 
 possessed the man-of-war's man's respect for au- 
 thority. 
 
 Jerry, an Irishman, was next to be disciplined. 
 He spilled some tar on the dingy old deck, and was 
 called down from aloft, collared, choked, pressed 
 downward, and his nose rubbed in the sticky tar; 
 then he was reduced to aches and contusions. But 
 the national sense of injury was strong in Jerry, 
 and he had never served in the navy. He turned 
 on the officer and fought him until rendered uncon- 
 scious; then he was carried to his bunk and nursed 
 back to life by Captain Haskins, who read him a 
 lecture on insubordination, and outwardly approved 
 of his punishment. Outwardly, because the mis- 
 givings of the men had reached to the captain, 
 and were sorely conflicting with his inward yearn- 
 ings. 
 
 17 249 
 
shipmates 
 
 Dutch Ned's turn came next. A shift of wind 
 caught the jibs aback, and Ned, at the wheel, was 
 blamed. 
 
 " I was put der wheel hard up, sir," he said 
 in answer, " but she no steerage way have right 
 away, sir.'' 
 
 " Dry up, you black-jowled Ethiopian," yelled 
 the angry Mr. Arbuckle. " Talk back to me, will 
 you? " Then — ^it was painful — Ned was taught 
 his place; but when he had learned it, he could 
 not see, and another man steered his trick. Captain 
 Haskins was non-committal. 
 
 In the freezing weather oflf Cape Horn, John, 
 a Swede, fell from the icy foretop-gallant yard, 
 struck the upper topsail yard, bounded to the lower 
 topsail yard, and held on. But he had dropped the 
 heaver which he had taken aloft, and this fell per- 
 ilously close to Mr. Arbuckle's head. Descend- 
 ing painfully, with broken ribs and bleeding face, 
 his answers to Mr. Arbuckle at the rail were not 
 such, in coherence and respectfulness of tone, as to 
 convince the gentleman of John's innocence in 
 dropping the heaver so close to him. So John was 
 further crippled with the heaver, which the mate 
 had secured. Captain Haskins did what he could 
 for the sufferer, and then reasoned with the mate. 
 250 
 
At the End of the Man-rope 
 
 His crew was small, he said, and it was unwise to 
 have more than one man disabled at once. For, 
 though Dutch Ned could now see, Jerry was unable 
 to pull ropes or steer. 
 
 This advice might have prevailed, for Mr. Ar- 
 buckle possessed a fairly logical mind. But, un- 
 luckily, he communed with George, a weak-minded, 
 lanky youth of the crew, whom he called aft to 
 keep him company on a clear moonlight night. He 
 asked the young man about his history, his plans, 
 hopes, and prospects, and the flattered weakling re- 
 sponded. He was a member of the Salvation 
 Army, he said — ^not a sailor; and he had signed with 
 Captain Haskins at the behest of his superiors as 
 a practical means of saving souls; for sailors ashore 
 were hard to reach, and the army had few converts 
 among them. But he had achieved little with this 
 crew — the spirit of the Lord was not with them. 
 They were irreverent, profane, and revengeful, in 
 spite of his prayers and exhortations. And this led 
 to the object of the interview. 
 
 ^^ Revengeful ? " repeated the mate. "What 
 about? Are they after me? " 
 
 " Well, no, sir; not that. But they say spiteful 
 things.'' 
 
 "About me? What do they say? Tell me, 
 251 
 
Shipmates 
 
 boy. I've been your friend. I saw at the start 
 that you were different from that crowd." 
 
 " It's not all of them, sir/' said the fatuous 
 youth. " But Martin says that you practically 
 murdered your wife and child years ago. Oh, I 
 don't believe it, sir. I don't, really." The mate's 
 face was frightful in the moonlight. 
 
 ^^What — ^how — how did he put it?" he said 
 in a choking voice. 
 
 " I don't believe it, Mr. Arbuckle. He said 
 that you beat her cruelly when at home, and when 
 you left on a voyage she took the child to IN'ew 
 York and tried to make a living, but they both 
 starved to death." 
 
 " Go forrard," said the mate calmly, " and send 
 that old liar aft." 
 
 George disappeared and Martin came. 
 
 " I'll teach you, you old crow-bait," he said, 
 " to set the men against me. Killed my wife and 
 child, did I? Didn't I tell you that the less you 
 knew about Tompkinsville the better for you? " 
 
 '' Mr. Arbuckle," answered the old man, 
 bravely, " what I've said in the fo'castle I'll say 
 to your face; and I've a right to say what the whole 
 town knows. I knew you as a boy, and I knew 
 your wife as a pretty little girl, and if the account 
 252 
 
At the End of the Man-rope 
 
 is true, you are responsible. I never saw the baby, 
 but my folks did, and read the letter she sent just 
 before they both died of starvation." 
 
 The old man fell under the fist blow which 
 followed, and when the infuriated officer had fin- 
 ished stamping upon him, he, too, was carried to his 
 bunk. And Captain Haskins became alarmed; his 
 secret ideals had been realized. 
 
 " You stop this right here, Mr. Arbuckle," he 
 said. " I forbid you killing and maiming my crew. 
 If you strike another of my men, I'll put you 'fore 
 the mast. I will, by the Eternal." 
 
 Which was as near as Captain Haskins ever 
 came to profanity. 
 
 But the mate was not himself; he answered 
 warmly — in fact, threatened to break Captain 
 Haskins's head if he violated his agreement to not 
 interfere between him and the men, and for a 
 few days was practically master of the vessel — a 
 terror to all. Then an incident brought him 
 around. 
 
 The Salvationist, useless on deck, and spared by 
 the mate only because of his value as a spy, was a 
 splendid entertainer in the watch below, possessing 
 a clear, bell-like tenor voice. Usually he sang the 
 sacred words and jingling tunes of the Salvation 
 253 
 
shipmates 
 
 Armjj but on this evening he treated them to a 
 pathetic song of the war days. It began softly at 
 first, nothing distinguishable but the melody, then 
 rising until the words of the refrain could be heard 
 from the poop. 
 
 ** No more the bugle calls the weary one. 
 Rest, noble spirit, in thy grave unknown. 
 I'll find you and know you among the good and true, 
 When a robe of white is given for the faded coat of blue." 
 
 Mr. Arbuckle was heard to utter a sound be- 
 tween a gasp and a groan; then he ran forward, 
 entered the forecastle, pulled the singer from his 
 bunk, and expressed himself: 
 
 " Shut up — shut up, you snivelling, caterwaul- 
 ing insect! Don't let me hear any more of this." 
 And he shook the unlucky George until his breath- 
 ing was difficult. 
 
 " Don't you want us to sing in the last dog- 
 watch below, sir? " asked Tom, standing up. 
 
 " No," yelled the mate. Then, reminded by 
 their faces that the edict was revolutionary, he 
 added: "Not such songs as this. They're played 
 out years ago. Sing something decent — lively. 
 Hear me? " he said to the cowering George. 
 " Sing something lively, if you want to sing; and 
 
 don't sing so d d loud." 
 
 254 
 
At the End of the Man-rope 
 
 " Yes, sir — all right, sir — ay, ay, sir," an- 
 swered George, and the mate went aft. 
 
 He walked the deck until midnight, and for an 
 hour into his watch below; then approached the 
 captain. 
 
 " Mustn't think, sir," he said, halting, " that 
 I'm trying to kill the men. I'm not; but they 
 aggravate me. There's not an able seaman 
 aboard." 
 
 " That is a matter of opinion, Mr. Arbuckle,'^ 
 answered the captain, coldly. '' Even so, able sea- 
 men are not really necessary in a little craft like 
 this. Human beings are — and require human 
 treatment. And, what's wrong with that boy? 
 He's got a good voice. I like to hear him sing; 
 and he's the one man, besides the cook, that you 
 haven't maltreated. I thought you liked him." 
 
 " Like him — the snivelling, psalm-singin' 
 sneak? I've pumped him dry about the rest, and 
 they put him up to sing that song. I know it. It's 
 the old fellow. Have you heard what he's saying 
 'bout me?" 
 
 '' About your wife and child? Yes. Martin 
 
 told me when I bandaged him. That is not my 
 
 business. But I shouldn't think a mere song could 
 
 disturb you, Mr. Arbuckle. I know the song — 
 
 255 
 
Shipmates 
 
 Faded Coat of Blue. It'll draw tears from a stone, 
 but not from bucko mates — as a general thing." 
 
 '' But I've got feelings, captain, same as any 
 man. And that's a song she taught the child — 
 used to sing it together, the young un sittin' in her 
 lap, and me smokin' and listenin'. 'Tisn't on her 
 
 account. To h 1 with her. She quit me when I 
 
 was at sea. But she took the boy — my boy. She 
 took my boy away, and he died." 
 
 " Of starvation? " 
 
 '' ISTo," and the mate's voice was hoarse. '^ I 
 
 won't have it that way. She lied. D n her, she 
 
 lied. Starvation — my boy — not that. He got 
 sick, maybe, and she didn't take care of him." 
 
 "Why did she quit you?" asked the captain, 
 for lack of something to say. 
 
 "Why, captain, she was one of these high-toned 
 pieces — too good for this world — parson's daugh- 
 ter; and when her old dad died she was d d 
 
 glad to marry me to get something to eat. But 
 she objected to everything I did, and said I wasn't 
 good enough for her — and when I gave her a few 
 bats in the nose she objected still more. I had to 
 take this — at school and at sea. So does every 
 man. Why should a woman be exempt? But she 
 
 quit me, d n her, and took my boy." 
 
 256 
 
At the End of the Man-rope 
 
 " Well/' said the captain, slowly, " if that is 
 your code, we can not discuss it. You are too old 
 to be changed. I'll simply say, Mr. Arbuckle, that 
 I am master here under the law. I forbid you to 
 strike another man aboard my vessel. You are big 
 enough to thrash all hands, but I know the law, 
 and will prosecute you, with my men for wit- 
 nesses." 
 
 The mate went to his bunk. He may, or may 
 not, have been impressed by the captain's threat. 
 He certainly was by an interview with the cook, 
 which occurred a few mornings later. So far there 
 had been no friction between these two, the most 
 important factors in the economy of a ship at sea. 
 But the watch on deck being a little dilatory in 
 drinking their morning coffee, Mr. Arbuckle ap- 
 peared at the galley door loudly commanding that 
 the cook stop the morning coffee until further 
 orders. The cook came to the door with a ten-inch 
 carving knife. " Look heah," he said, with spark- 
 ling eyes, *' I know you — you no-'count white 
 man. My father used to go into the forest an' kill 
 gorillas like you 'fore the traders got him. I was a 
 slave 'til I was big 'nough to run away. Then I 
 killed an overseer like you. Now I'm an Ameri- 
 can. You heah me? I'm an American. I signed 
 257 
 
shipmates 
 
 heah to cook for all hands an' give 'em coffee 
 at turn-to. I'm goin' to do it. I sharpened this 
 knife the day you joined, an' I've kep' it sharp. 
 If you run foul o' me, I'll cut you into little bits. 
 You heah me? " 
 
 The officer heard, and understood. He went 
 aft for a revolver, and the cook followed to the cabin 
 door with the knife, and met him when he appeared. 
 But the pistol did not leave his pocket. The cook 
 was as large a man as himself, and there was an 
 earnest look in his sparkling eyes that dominated 
 other influences. So the day's work began with- 
 out disturbance. 
 
 From this on, though he carried his revolver 
 ostentatiously for the cook's benefit, and cursed the 
 men explosively night and day, he obeyed Captain 
 Haskins's injunction, and until the last day of the 
 passage he struck no man. But in the case of 
 George, no longer exempt, the vocal abuse had the 
 effect of reducing him to a state of chronic terror, 
 which found expression in a willingness to betray 
 to Mr. Arbuckle all that was said in the forecastle, 
 in the hope of finding favour with him. The mate 
 would listen, of course, and abate none of his con- 
 tempt for the informer, while the crew, easily sur- 
 mising the object of the nightly discourse at the 
 258 
 
At the End of the Man-rope 
 
 weather main rigging, made life a burden to him in 
 the watch below. Never too wholesome in his atti- 
 tude toward his fellow-men, George yielded to the 
 pressure, and became an illogical, irresponsible ani- 
 mal; never too cleanly in his personal habits, he be- 
 came on offence to the eye and nostril. And this 
 induced the mate to apply heroic treatment. He 
 dowsed him with buckets of water in the morning 
 washing down of the deck, and this not availing, he 
 collared him one dark night when he had crept aft 
 with a new tale, marched him to the taffrail, and, 
 in spite of his screams, tied him to the end of the 
 main-sheet and lowered him over the stern, slack- 
 ing away until the poor wretch was immersed to 
 his waist. 
 
 Occasionally a lifting sea would bury him, 
 smothering his cries; then, as the stern arose, he 
 would dangle, dripping and gasping, from the up- 
 right rope until another sea came to overwhelm 
 him. Mr. Arbuckle watched from the taffrail, and 
 might have pulled him in after he was presumably 
 cleaner; but a sudden squall and shift of wind re- 
 quired his attention and the work of the watch be- 
 low for two hours, during which George remained 
 overboard, forgotten by all but the man at the 
 wheel. At last this man — it was Martin, barely 
 269 
 
Shipmates 
 
 recovered from his beating — informed Mr. Ar- 
 buekle that if he did not hoist George aboard he 
 would becket the wheel and call the captain, which 
 induced the officer to curse Martin luridly, but, as 
 a secondary consideration, to rescue the involun- 
 tary bather. 
 
 George would not talk when he was pulled in. 
 He smiled voluminously in the light from the bin- 
 nacle and muttered incoherently, but would not 
 talk in spite of the stern command of the mate to 
 tell how he felt and to state his future intentions 
 with regard to soap and water. They led him for- 
 ward, where his horrified shipmates stripped and 
 put him in his bunk to drivel himself into the sleep 
 of utter exhaustion and idiocy. He awakened 
 twelve hours later, and, though he still gibbered 
 when spoken to — often repeating the words of the 
 speaker — he showed no sign of brain, mind, or soul 
 behind the words. They found that he could pull a 
 rope if put in his hands, and would belay when told. 
 He could not be trusted at the wheel, but learned 
 to express himself on seeing a light, and became 
 available on the lookout. If properly watched he 
 could paint, tar down rigging, sweep and scrub the 
 deck, but could do no work requiring the intelli- 
 gence of a pack mule. Yet, in spite of the embargo 
 260 
 
At the End of the Man-rope 
 
 on his tongue, lie could sing the songs he had 
 known in a soft, plaintive voice, which moved these 
 rough men to tears ; and in spite of the terrible ex- 
 perience that had wrecked his mind he displayed no 
 more fear of Mr. Arbuckle; he never avoided him, 
 but would smile into his face with the innocent 
 candour of a babe. 
 
 What Mr. Arbuckle thought of his handiwork 
 found no expression in his manner or discourse. 
 He was still the strict, arbitrary, profane critic of 
 the crew that he was before. What Captain Has- 
 kins thought could be surmised by the fact that he 
 spoke no more to his mate, and entered the incident 
 in his official log. The men were less guarded; 
 boldly announcing their intention to throw him 
 overboard if he went much further, and warning 
 Mr. Arbuckle in any event to be prepared for legal 
 proceedings on shore — which did not in the least 
 affect the officer at the time, this being the last 
 gossip given him by George on the night of his 
 ducking. 
 
 It was when the anchor was dropped off Tomp- 
 kinsville, Staten Island, that he broke out again, 
 to wind up the passage with a proper assertion of 
 his dignity. A slight mistake on the part of one 
 of them in paying out chain, and the smiling ap- 
 261 
 
shipmates 
 
 proval of the mistake in the faces of the rest, in- 
 duced him to lay about him with a handspike, and 
 when he had finished, three only of the crew — 
 Tom, Martin, and George — could stand erect. 
 Even the cook was disabled. When he left his gal- 
 ley to join the row, he was met, not by a pistol shot 
 — simply by the swinging handspike, and the hand 
 that held that sharp carving knife was crushed. 
 
 Canvas had been furled while towing up the 
 bay, so when the pilot had been put ashore in the 
 dingey, the work of the day was done, and all hands 
 went to a late supper — served one-handed by the 
 cook. When he had cleared off the dishes from the 
 cabin table, and gone forward, Mr. Arbuckle, cour- 
 ageous and confident from his recent victory, re- 
 minded the captain of his pre-expressed desire to 
 be paid off before docking. 
 
 " You want your pay, do you? '^ asked the in- 
 dignant little captain, heatedly. " You want to 
 quit me now to escape arrest, and leave me to dock 
 this vessel with three men. You'll get your money 
 to-morrow, and you'll get it in the presence of the 
 policeman who arrests you." 
 
 The argument and quarrel which followed need 
 not be detailed. It ended in a crashing blow of the 
 six-foot officer's fist on the temple of the five-foot 
 262 
 
At the End of the Man-rope 
 
 captain. The little man reeled, sat down on a stool, 
 slid off, and stretched himself on the floor with the 
 deliberation of a man preparing for sleep, while 
 Mr. Arbuckle, breathing loudly and deeply, looked 
 down on him with angry eyes. But, as he looked, 
 the anger left his eyes, and his breathing, though 
 still loud and deep, changed its character. He ex- 
 amined the captain's head. There was no outward 
 sign of injury, and he felt for a movement of the 
 heart. The breast was warm, but as rigid as the 
 face with its staring eyes. He stood up, then sat 
 down on the stool, and looked at the man he had 
 killed. 
 
 He had bargained to receive his money and 
 discharge before docking if he killed a man on 
 the passage. Here was the dead man; where was 
 the money? 
 
 He procured keys from the captain's pocket, 
 lighted the lamp in his room, searched his desk and 
 found, not only money enough to pay off all hands, 
 but the account of wages due each man up to the 
 end of the following day, and their discharges, 
 signed by Captain Haskins, his own stating that 
 as mate he was Y. G. (very good). He counted 
 out the money due him, signed his name to the 
 account, pocketed the money and discharge, and 
 263 
 
Shipmates 
 
 locked the desk. As far as tlie world was concerned 
 he was officially paid off as mate of the Warrior. 
 Then, lifting the corpse to the bed in the room, he 
 turned down the lamp and sought the deck. 
 
 It was a dark, wintry evening, with cold rain 
 and a colder wind out of the north, which froze 
 the rain as it fell. Deck, rail, and rigging were 
 already coated with ice, and overboard large cakes 
 of it, fragments of the Hudson Eiver pack, were 
 floating in on the swift flood-tide. The vessel was 
 alone at the anchorage, moored beyond easy hailing 
 distance from the shore, and all lights were turned 
 out forward except the riding light in the fore rig- 
 ging. The stooped figure of Martin, standing the 
 first anchor watch, showed dimly in the darkness 
 at the forecastle door, but the rest of the stricken 
 men were undoubtedly in their bunks. It was an 
 ideal night for murder and its concomitants; but, 
 cold as it was, Mr. Arbuckle perspired profusely. 
 He climbed the poop steps and looked over the 
 stem, where the dingey, tugging at its painter, 
 bobbed and rocked on the black water below. Long 
 and silently he mused, and often mopped his brow 
 wdth his handkerchief; then his musings found ex- 
 pression. 
 
 " Won't do," he muttered. " Doctors would 
 264 
 
At the End of the Man-rope 
 
 know he didn't drown. Adrift in the dingey, may 
 be — no oars — frozen to death? But I need the 
 boat for an alibi. Frozen to death — how? Falls 
 overboard — floats long enough to freeze. Good — 
 a life-buoy! Some one throws it. Who? I must 
 be ashore. One o' the men — the idiot. He could 
 throw it, and do no more. I must come out just 
 in time to hear cries for help, climb overboard, miss 
 the skipper, find the life-buoy gone, and raise 
 
 h 1. Idiot on anchor watch. When is he on 
 
 watch? But I can arrange that." 
 
 He removed a life-buoy from the quarter-rail, 
 entered the cabin by the after companionway, and 
 drew the cork ring over the head and shoulders of 
 the body, twisting the still pliable arms and fingers 
 around it to hold it in place. N^ext he carried the 
 body up and rested it against the taflfrail until he 
 had assured himself that Martin was still forward. 
 Then he carefully lowered it over the stern, shifting 
 his hold to the hair, and reaching down until the 
 feet touched the water before letting go. There 
 was hardly a splash; the life-buoy was forced up 
 snug under the arms, and the body, shoulders out, 
 floated away on the tide. No intelligent coroner 
 would pronounce this a case of murder. 
 
 Mr. Arbuckle descended to his room, where he 
 18 265 
 
shipmates 
 
 changed his clothes, putting on the suit he had worn 
 at Callao. As he donned the coat he felt of a letter 
 in the pocket — the letter given him by the consul, 
 and which he had forgotten to deliver. He read 
 the address, ^^ Martin Mathews, brigantine Warrior, 
 Callao, Peru, care American Consul." He no 
 longer perspired so profusely, but trembled from 
 the reaction of feeling which followed the safe 
 disposal of the body. A glass of spirits from the 
 captain's stock remedied this, and, going on deck, 
 he bawled out in his most officer-like tone: ^^ Who's 
 on watch? Lay aft here." Martin obeyed, and 
 met him at the main-mast. 
 
 '' Here's a letter I got from the consul at Callao 
 — for you. Forgot all about it." 
 
 ^^ Thank you, sir," answered Martin, as he took 
 the letter. " I 'spect it's from my sister inshore 
 here. Curious, sir, that I come back to Tompkins- 
 ville to read it." 
 
 ^^I^ever mind about Tompkinsville. Who 
 stands watch to-night?" 
 
 " Only three of us, sir. We 'greed to let the 
 rest have all night in. Tom relieves me at 'leven, 
 and George relieves him at three. I came on at 
 eight, sir, as you ordered at supper time." 
 
 '^ That's all right. Let George come on at 
 266 
 
At the End of the Man-rope 
 
 eleven, and let Tom take the morning watch. The 
 harbour's quiet at midnight, and river thieves 
 work late. Let Tom take the last watch. Under- 
 stand?" 
 
 " Yes, sir. I'll call George at 'leven." 
 
 " And keep your watch on the poop. Pass the 
 word along. Make that idiot understand — to stand 
 watch on the poop. But don't disturb the captain. 
 He's sick. If he feels better I may go ashore in 
 the dingey." 
 
 " All right, sir. May I read my letter f orrard, 
 sir? " 
 
 " Go ahead — get it off your mind." 
 
 Martin disappeared in the direction of the fore- 
 castle, and when Mr. Arbuckle saw him emerge a 
 little later he went below. 
 
 " Got to make sure," he said. " Got to have 
 the idiot on deck, and I can't disturb the watches 
 any more. Make 'em suspicious. I'll wait till 
 'leven o'clock — when the skipper feels better." 
 
 He waited, passing the time as he could, and 
 when the cabin clock struck eleven went on deck, 
 first fortifying himself with a glass of whisky. 
 George and Martin were coming aft, the older man 
 earnestly explaining the orders to the younger. 
 Mr. Arbuckle, fully as earnestly, repeated them, 
 267 
 
Shipmates 
 
 enjoining George to stand watch on the poop, and 
 to not disturb Captain Haskins, who was feeling 
 better. 
 
 " And I'm going ashore," he said to Martin. 
 " Be back about midnight. 'Fore you turn in 
 bring the dingey up to the gangway.'' 
 
 Martin answered respectfully, and obeyed him, 
 while the smiling idiot watched the operation. 
 Then Mr. Arbuckle descended the side ladder, 
 slacking himself carefully down by the man-ropes. 
 These were two short, fancifully covered ropes, 
 leading from brass stanchions in the rail, one each 
 side of the ladder, to within a foot of the water. 
 They were covered with ice and hard to hold, yet 
 he paused halfway down to repeat the command 
 to '' stand watch on the poop." 
 
 ^' Yes, sir," answered the old sailor, as he 
 climbed the rail with a pump-brake in his hand. 
 " The boy'll do that all right, but I want to say 
 something first. You're going, George Arbuckle. 
 You've got your money and discharge, and this 
 is the last we'll see o' you. I know the trick. 
 You're not takin' your clothes, 'cause you have 
 none worth takin'. "We'll have to wait three days 
 'fore we get our money, and then we can't find you. 
 You'll lay low and ship a^ain to cripple more men. 
 2f^8 
 
At the End of the Man-rope 
 
 But I've got this to say — and, you chew it over, 
 too — you just remember that I had the satisfaction 
 of tellin' you. Hold on, there! " (Mr. Arbuckle 
 had moved his hands upward.) " Don't you come 
 up, or you'll go down by the run. I'll brain you, 
 you devil, if you climb that ladder. You stay there 
 and listen. You've pretty near killed this crew. 
 You've hammered and clubbed us to the last man, 
 and one of us you drove insane — this boy here. 
 Look at him, you brute ! He's your own son. Do 
 you hear? Your own son — the little boy — that 
 we all thought died o' starvation. He didn't die — 
 nor the mother, either, at the time. She came back 
 to Tompkinsville since this brig sailed from New 
 York, and she died here eight months ago. She 
 fooled you. The letter I got tells of it. And the 
 boy was a Salvation Army man, and shipped in 
 this vessel. She told that, but she didn't know that 
 he was to meet his father and be driven insane. 
 Look at your work, you hell-hound ! Look at your 
 work! " And the old man pointed at the smiling 
 idiot. 
 
 Mr. Arbuckle descended quickly. The ropes 
 
 and steps were very slippery, but this may not have 
 
 been the reason of his hurry. The demented youth 
 
 looked down and gibbered. The man in the boat 
 
 269 
 
Shipmates 
 
 said nothing. When Martin cast olBf the painter, 
 he shipped the oars and pulled shoreward. 
 
 He was not back at midnight; he came at one 
 o'clock, when the ebb-tide had gathered force, and 
 the vessel was tailing down the harbour with the 
 side ladder on the offshore side. He hailed as he 
 approached, but the anchor watch, looking down 
 from the poop rail, did not answer the order to take 
 the painter, so he pulled to the steps and essayed 
 to climb them with the painter in his hand. But 
 steps and man-ropes were still icy. He slipped, 
 scrambled, lost the painter, and as the boat floated 
 sternward, found himself in the water, holding on 
 to the end of the after man-rope, with the side 
 ladder tantalizingly close, but not within reach. 
 
 The tide was strong and held him away from 
 the ladder. The water was icy cold, and his teeth 
 chattered. Uttering an angry curse, he pulled him- 
 self up — high as his strength would enable him — 
 and with less of his body immersed, he swung 
 toward the ladder; but strong man though he was, 
 he could not support so much of his weight and 
 that of his water-soaked clothing with one hand, 
 even to catch the ladder with the other. "With fin- 
 ger nails scraping the coveted steps, he slid down 
 the rope, and barely held on at the end. Again 
 270 
 
At the End of the Man-rope 
 
 and again he tried, only to fatigue himself in 
 failure. 
 
 " On deck, there ! " he called at last. " George, 
 gi' me a hand here! George! On deck! Hear 
 me? Gi' me a hand! " 
 
 George heard, but remained on the poop rail, 
 silently observing him. 
 
 "George!" he called. "Come down to the 
 gangway. Stand watch at the gangway now! 
 Hear me? And send me down a bowline — a run- 
 ning bowline. Understand? Make a running 
 bowline 'round the after man-rope, and slip it 
 down to me. Don't you hear me, George? " 
 
 Had there been more of command in the tone 
 of his voice George might have obeyed, in a man- 
 ner. But he spoke pleadingly. 
 
 " On 'deck, there ! " he called again, raising his 
 voice. " Forward there. Turn out, somebody, 
 and gi' me a hand. Man overboard! Man over- 
 board! Any one hear me? Help! Help! " 
 
 The idiot above chuckled and repeated the call 
 softly: " Man overboard! Man overboard! " 
 
 " George, my boy," he begged, " help me up. 
 Call the men. No, call Tom — don't bother Mar- 
 tin. Go forrard and call Tom — that's a good 
 boy." 
 
 271 
 
shipmates 
 
 '' Good boy! Good boy! Good boy! " was re- 
 peated to him. 
 
 " Yes, George, you are. But help me. I'm 
 your father, George. I just learned. Under- 
 stand? Your father. I didn't know it before. 
 Ifeither did you. I thought you died when you 
 were little; but you didn't die. And now I'm 
 going to stand by you, George, if you'll help me. 
 I'm your father." 
 
 '' Fadder — f adder — f adder — f adder," came 
 back to him. Then, perhaps because he had just 
 heard repetitions of Martin's denunciatory words, 
 he chattered, " Diden die — diden die — diden — 
 diden die — you devil — you devil, devil, devil, 
 devil^ — brute, you brute, you brute. Look at your 
 work, work, work — look at your work — diden die, 
 diden die, diden die — " and it merged into inco- 
 herent drivel. 
 
 The man in the water groaned hoarsely, and, 
 with eyes bulging and veins in his hands, neck, and 
 temples standing out like cording, he strained his 
 muscles and scraped the side with the edges of his 
 shoe soles in a mighty effort of strength. Then 
 came the penalty of overworking chilled muscles; 
 he slid down, panting hoarsely, and groaned: " Fm 
 cramped. I've got the cramps. Help! '^ 
 272 
 
At the End of the Man-rope 
 
 His voice was weak now, and he saved it; but, 
 while he rested, both hands gripping the rope over 
 his head, the gibberish above changed to this — the 
 clear, bell-like voice echoing on the shore: 
 
 ** My brave lad he sleeps in his faded coat of blue, 
 In a lonely grave unknown lies the heart that beat so true. 
 He sank faint and hungry among the famished brave, 
 And they laid him sad and lonely within his nameless 
 grave." 
 
 " O God, have mercy on my soul ! " muttered 
 the man, as the singer ended the verse. His eyes 
 were closed now, and while the boy above hummed 
 the melody softly, he repeated to himself the words 
 of the consul at Callao: 
 
 " The wrong we do comes home to us this side 
 of the grave, and the men we kill come back to 
 watch us die." 
 
 Something brushed him, and he opened his eyes. 
 Within a foot of his face was the head and torso 
 of a man supported by a life-buoy. The staring 
 eyes looked into his own. With a gasp and a 
 gurgle, he let go of the rope, barely clutched 
 the life-buoy, and the two went out to sea together. 
 
 273 
 
A FALL FROM GRACE 
 
 Yank Tate was a single-minded jack-of -all- 
 trades — short, square-bearded, open-eyed, and as 
 honest as a human being may be. In spite of his 
 versatility he was a master seaman and mechanic, 
 and, helped by his single-mindedness, faithful devo- 
 tee of an ideal which had come to him in child- 
 hood and clung to him through the years. It had 
 taken him in early manhood from carpenter and 
 joiner's work to a shipyard at less pay. It had 
 impelled him to go to sea in the first carpenter's 
 berth that offered. It had dominated all influences 
 that shaped his wanderings, and finally, after years 
 of experience as a football of Fate, it had brought 
 him to Eastern waters — the nursery of pirates — 
 and left him stranded " on the beach " at Manila, 
 from which he had been rescued by the Eeverend 
 Mr. Todd, missionary, who recognised good mate- 
 rial. Mr. Todd laboured and wrestled with his 
 soul, vainly, until Yank learned that he needed 
 a mate in his little missionary brig, whereat both 
 275 
 
shipmates 
 
 made concessions. Yank got a berth and acknowl- 
 edged himself saved, provided that Mr. Todd would 
 consider the agitation closed and not expect him 
 to pray in his watch below. And the missionary 
 agreed. He knew nothing of the secret, unsullied 
 ambition hidden in Yank's honest heart to become a 
 roaring, bloody-minded, walk-the-plank, skuU-and- 
 crossbones buccaneer; so the watch below was given 
 up to sleep and secular thought, and Yank's chances 
 for backsliding were a hundred per cent better. 
 
 But thus far he had met no pirates, unless 
 the nondescript craft coming out of the west pro- 
 pelled by sweeps was of this nature. 
 
 Mr. Todd was palpably anxious. Sweltering 
 through six days of dead calm, with tar oozing 
 from ropes and pitch from deck seams, while the 
 barometer dropped steadily to 28.56 — sure sign of 
 a typhoon — was troubling enough without this ad- 
 ditional menace. Below in his desk was the ac- 
 cumulation of seven years' innocent trading with 
 the innocent islanders — about ten thousand dollars' 
 worth of little iridescent globules much valued 
 in jewellery manufacture — which he had taken in 
 exchange for Bibles, knives, trinkets, etc., from 
 different converts on the islands of his route. And 
 here he was in piratical seas with a small crew of 
 276 
 
A Fall from Grace 
 
 non-combative Kanakas in his forecastle, and only 
 one white man to help him. 
 
 He was as good a seaman as Yank and a better 
 navigator; yet he could not classify the approach- 
 ing vessel. She had the hull of a Chinese junk, 
 the mainsail and gaff topsail of a schooner, and a 
 lateen foresail slung to a heavy yard, while out 
 over the bows was a cocky stump bowsprit and old- 
 fashioned sprit-sail yard with sail attached — clearly 
 a hybrid of the high seas, a makeshift of hard 
 times; and as she slopped her way along, her sails 
 flapped ludicrously with the draught of her motion. 
 
 " Perhaps," said Yank, handing the glass to his 
 superior, his brown eyes glistening, " she's a pi- 
 rate. Ten sweeps and two ports to a side? Big 
 crew." 
 
 " Let's hope not," answered Mr. Todd, gravely. 
 " But if so, let us hope that the other one is a 
 war vessel." 
 
 Half a mile to the southward, and extending 
 east and west about four miles each way, was the 
 northern face of an atoll, or coral reef, inclosing 
 a lagoon. Within this lagoon was anchored the 
 other craft mentioned — a large, black and rakish 
 brig, whose sparkling guns and generally stylish 
 appearance suggested government ownership. 
 277 
 
shipmates 
 
 Though they had flown their own flag that morn- 
 ing as a slow current drifted them around the 
 atoll, the signal was not answered, and none of 
 her crew was visible. Close study with the glass 
 had shown them a thickening of the reef on the 
 south side, where the debris of the sea had formed 
 land, and here were a few stunted palms and three 
 or four tents. The same scrutiny had disclosed 
 an opening in the reef on the east, and another 
 on the north side. Had there been wind, Mr. 
 Todd would have entered for further acquaintance. 
 As it was, with a typhoon coming, the atoll was a 
 place of danger, and he wondered why the brig 
 did not warp out. Early in the morning he had 
 sent down upper spars and stowed all canvas except 
 a storm spanker and foretopmast-staysail, and 
 now, with nothing to do but to watch the approach 
 of the suspect to the westward, he improved the 
 time by hiding his treasure and other valuables, 
 and destroying his account book. 
 
 But to no avail, for the first remark of a vil- 
 lainous-looking swashbuckler who climbed over 
 his rail an hour later was: 
 
 " Been a-lookin' f er you. Hand ober them 
 pearls." 
 
 He was a giant mulatto, with bloodshot eyes, 
 278 
 
A Fall from Grace 
 
 fang-like teeth, and a settled grin on a face further 
 distorted by every evil thought and passion. He 
 was followed by a crew of about thirty — cutthroats 
 all — as nondescript as their craft bumping along- 
 side. They were of every breed of men---black, 
 white, and yellow; they were dressed fantastically, 
 each to suit himself, but were armed alike, with 
 short cutlass and heavy pistols. They crowded the 
 wondering Kanakas forward while their leader in- 
 terviewed Mr. Todd and his mate. 
 
 "Pearls, Mr. Todd,'' he repeated. "Hand 
 ober dem pearls.'' 
 
 "What pearls?" 
 
 " E'o time to hear you lie," he said. " Hear 
 all about you and your pile. Come aft here, four 
 hands," he called to his men. 
 
 Four came. They seemed to know what was 
 wanted. Quickly and silently they seized Mr. 
 Todd, throttled his angry protest, bore him to the 
 deck, and bound him; then fastening the end of 
 the main-staysail halyards to his ankles, they 
 hauled on the other part and swayed him up, feet 
 first, until his fingers cleared the deck. He writhed 
 and struggled to lift his head — successfully; but 
 they fastened his wrists to the life rail, bowsed 
 him higher, and belayed. Yank Tate watched 
 279 
 
Shipmates 
 
 ' in fascinated horroij and the pirate lighted a 
 cheroot. 
 
 '' When you're ready to tell, I'll lower you/' 
 he said quietly. 
 
 The unfortunate missionary groaned, and cried 
 unto Heaven for help; then he appealed to Yank, 
 then to his crew, huddled near the windlass, lastly 
 to the pirate captain. 
 
 "Mercy!" he gurgled. "Yes, yes. Take 
 them." 
 
 Flesh and blood could haye stood it no longer. 
 He was black in the face when they stretched him 
 out on the deck, and for five minutes was uncon- 
 scious; then he opened his eyes. 
 
 "Where?" asked the pirate, bending over 
 him. 
 
 Mr. Todd did not answer. 
 
 " Up wid him again," ordered the mulatto, and 
 they manned the rope; but Mr. Todd lifted his 
 hand. 
 
 " Under the cabin," he whispered hoarsely — 
 " starboard side — near the deadwood — loose plank." 
 
 " Good." 
 
 The captain descended the main hatch and re- 
 turned in a few minutes with a canvas ditty-bag 
 that bulged with its contents. His mood had 
 280 
 
A Fall from Grace 
 
 changed; he laughed and waved the bag over the 
 head of the still prostrate missionary. 
 
 " All in the sabing o' souls/' he chuckled. ^^ All 
 fo' de glory o' God. Now, I tell you/' he added, 
 more seriously, " you go right 'long an' git some 
 more. I wait for 'em. I let you keep this little 
 rotten ol' brig — good 'nough to sabe de heathen 
 wid — no good to me — too small. But— how much 
 money you got down in yo' desk? " 
 
 Mr. Todd rose unsteadily to his feet and an- 
 swered brokenly: ^^ I have a very little — not a 
 week's pay for my crew. I have provisions, yams, 
 cereals, salt meat, preserved goods, coffee. Take 
 what you please — kill us if you like — but, I enjoin 
 you, in the name of an outraged God, not to tor- 
 ture us." 
 
 The pirate's face sobered to its sneering grin. 
 He pointed to his craft alongside. 
 
 " See dat vessel? What you call her rig? 
 Once she was a mandarin junk — sixty men. Dey 
 all walk de plank. See dat mainsail? Dat belong 
 to down-east Yankee trader. Cappen an' six men 
 — all yo' countrymen. I hang 'em all up to dat 
 gaff 'fore I cut de mast out fo' myself. See dat 
 fo'sail? Arab dhow. Dey all roast. Wha' you 
 whinin' 'bout? You's de goose dat lays de egg. 
 19 281 
 
shipmates 
 
 Dat's why I let you go. You keep yo' money. 
 You keep yo' brig an' you men, an' you grub. 
 Sometime I ketch you again and git mo' pearls." 
 
 "Monster!" said Mr. Todd. "And do you 
 think that I shall be a party to such a compact? 
 Fool! Kill me at once, and your chance of con- 
 tinuing your infamous career is better." 
 
 "Wha'youdo?" 
 
 " Do you think," went on the enraged mis- 
 sionary, now in command of his voice and vo- 
 cabulary, " that you have robbed a weakling — a 
 man who will rest content? You have taken my 
 all. It is mine — gained by honest barter. There 
 are men-of-war in these seas. I have influence. I 
 will see you hanged." 
 
 For a moment or two the pirate chief seemed 
 to be thinking deeply; then he said to his men: 
 
 " Put it 'roun' his neck, run him up to de 
 masthead and slack him down." 
 
 Mr. Todd was not bound — he was simply held 
 tightly in the clutches of three while the fourth 
 knotted a hangman's noose in the end of the hal- 
 yards, and adjusted the knot under his ear. He 
 struggled and fought, crying out inarticulately, 
 until the men forward lifted him clear of the 
 deck; then up he went, wriggling and twisting, 
 282 
 
A Fail from Grace 
 
 his long coat-tails and longer legs thrashing out at 
 right angles to his line of ascent and his hands 
 gripping the rope over his head. This saved him. 
 Had he been bound he would have strangled. As 
 he went up to the block aloft, Yank Tate, wonder 
 and doubt, shock and horror, intermingled in his 
 open countenance, stepped up to the captain. 
 
 " Hadn't oughter do this, cap'n," he said, ar- 
 gumentativelj and almost pleadingly. " There's 
 a man-o'-war in yonder. She can see; she'll know, 
 and she'll foUer you." 
 
 " Wha — who " yelled the pirate, hilari- 
 ously. " Bill Swarth — a man-o'-war. Yah-yah, 
 he'll see; he'll know — but he won't f oiler. Hey, 
 dere," he called forward, for Mr. Todd was chock-a- 
 block — " slack him down — slack down de golden 
 goose." 
 
 Yank drew back, and Mr. Todd came down. 
 He lay on the deck for a time, as before; then, 
 assisted by Yank, arose to his feet and clung to the 
 life rail, his breath coming and going in wheezing 
 groans, while his dark eyes sparkled luridly. 
 
 " Now," said the mulatto, in a quiet voice, 
 
 '' when you see me hanged you'll know how it 
 
 feels, and 'joy it much better. I'm goin' now. 
 
 I won't report you to any 'Merican consuls roun' 
 
 283 
 
Shipmates 
 
 here, 'cause you might be called home to tell why 
 you swindle natives in yo' missionary brig. So 
 you jess go 'long an' git mo' pearls fo' me. An', 
 say " — he pointed to the atoll — " don't make no 
 complaints to dat man-o'-war in dar, or you'll lose 
 de money I lef ' you, an' you' brig. An' you need 
 'em in yo' business." 
 
 Mr. Todd, his solemn face working convul- 
 sively, and his long frame swaying as he rested 
 his weight first on one foot, then on the other, 
 gave voice to short speech, which in his honest 
 anger was a prayer — a supplication — a calling down 
 of the wrath of Omnipotence on the head of the 
 despoiler, but outwardly, with regard to its terse- 
 ness, explosiveness, and commonplaceness of ex- 
 pression, it was an oath, nothing else — a plain im- 
 precation — and it moved the pirate to tears — of 
 laughter. 
 
 " Yah-yah," he yelled, hilariously, while he 
 danced back and forth, swinging the bag of pearls. 
 " Yah — ho-ho — I better go sabe souls myself. 
 I cuss most as good as dat myself." Then he 
 sobered suddenly, and ordering his crew back to 
 their craft, followed them, singing loudly with 
 mock earnestness: 
 
 *' ' There is work for us all in de vineyard of de Lord ' " 
 
 284 
 
A Fall from Grace 
 
 He sang only this much. Mr. Todd, with 
 fingers in his ears, had turned his back and was 
 moving aft, which gave Yank Tate the opportunity 
 of his life. He followed the pirate chief and 
 caught him at the rail, interrupting the song. 
 
 "Got all hands, cappen?" he said quickly. 
 " Want a good hand — a carpenter? " 
 
 For answer he was knocked prone upon his 
 back by a blow of the huge mulatto's fist; and 
 while lying there, too dazed to rise, and with his 
 pulpy nose spouting streams of blood, listened to 
 this: 
 
 " 1^0, you no-account hypocrite — you robber 
 of natives and obtainer of money under false pre- 
 tences — I don't want you in my ship. I'm p'ticu- 
 lar who I 'sociate with." 
 
 The pirate climbed over the rail, ordering 
 fastenings cast off and sweeps manned. When ten 
 yards separated the two craft Yank arose, disfig- 
 ured, chagrined, and as angry as was possible for 
 him to be with a fellow creature. 
 
 " You come back here, you half -cooked moke ! " 
 he yelled, shaking his fist. " Come back here an^ 
 fight it out. I kin lick you, big as you are. Come 
 back, you nigger — you nigger — you damn nigger!" 
 
 A derisive laugh rang out, and the strange 
 285 
 
shipmates 
 
 craft swung around the brig's bow, making back 
 to the west. Yank drew a bucket of water, 
 swabbed his swollen features, and went aft, where 
 Mr. Todd was leaning moodily against the rail. 
 
 " What happened ? " asked the missionary. 
 "Why did he strike you?" 
 
 " Well — just this," answered Yank, in some 
 confusion, not knowing how to explain; then de- 
 ciding that an out-and-out lie was best, he said: 
 " Went up to him an' told him that he was 
 wrong, an' wicked, an' — an' such like — an' told 
 him we'd pray fur him. But he didn't agree to 
 it, an' plugged me." 
 
 " You were wrong yourself, if not wicked. !N^o 
 prayer will avail with him. He is a type. I am 
 an instrument of the vengeance of the Lord. I 
 feel that I have been chosen — perhaps you also- 
 I feel that the Lord will decree, having sorely tried 
 us, that we are to meet that man again." 
 
 " Mebbe. I kin lick the stuffin' out o' any 
 damn Ethiopian, stand up an' knock down, that 
 ever stole a chicken, if he'll only " 
 
 " Hush. When will you reform your vocabu- 
 lary? Go forward; send three hands aft to the 
 spanker, and stand by the foretopmast-staysail 
 sheets. There is wind coming. While you are 
 286 
 
A Fall from Grace 
 
 waiting, get all the small chain on deck and over- 
 haul as much forward of the windlass as you can. 
 We may have to use it — though I doubt that we 
 can club-haul against a reef rising out of the 
 deep sea." 
 
 Yank answered and obeyed. And the events 
 of the next twenty-four hours followed in such 
 quick succession that he was spared further pain 
 of chagrin and disappointment. The typhoon 
 came down upon them with a preliminary dark- 
 ness to the north, followed by a deluge of rain. 
 Then came wind — gentle at first, which enabled 
 them to cast the brig on the port tack with small 
 steerage way — then a succession of furious blasts, 
 the second of which ripped the storm spanker to 
 ribbons, then a steady, screaming pressure which 
 bore men against the lee rail and flattened the 
 ground-swell of the sea to a milk-white froth. Even 
 with the helm hard down the brig would not steer, 
 but paid off toward the atoll. And Mr. Todd 
 knew that with the staysail furled to balance the 
 loss of the spanker, the brig would only drift bodily 
 toward the jagged reef to leeward. As there was 
 not a sail on board half as strong as the lost 
 spanker, and as the staysail might go at any mo- 
 ment, he decided that there was but one thing to 
 287 
 
Shipmates 
 
 do — scud, on the only track open, through the 
 northern inlet of the reef to a dubious anchor- 
 age, or to a further journey through the eastern 
 inlet to sea room and safety. 
 
 He took the wheel himself — with the Kanaka 
 helmsman to leeward to help him — and put it up, 
 roaring orders to Yank regarding ground tackle. 
 The brig paid off, straightened to an even keel, 
 and rolling slightly, more froni uneven wind pres- 
 sure than from the action of the sea, charged down 
 toward the nest of coral. 
 
 A quarter mile away on all sides sea and sky 
 were merged in the cloud of spindrift that rose from 
 the froth, and beyond this was the reef. But 
 he was a wise man, this Mr. Todd, and he had 
 taken the bearings of the inlet while there was 
 still time. He steered a compass course, and soon 
 distinguished the shadowy, loftier outlines of the 
 reef to starboard and port on the flat sea ahead of 
 him, and knew that he was right. With a mo- 
 ment's time now to look around he saw, off on the 
 starboard quarter, the pirate ship, dismasted, broad- 
 side to the wind, and surely doomed. Then the 
 smudge shut her out, and Mr. Todd steered on, 
 with a grim smile on his face; for he was but 
 human, and human beings lately triced up by the 
 288 
 
A Fail from Grace 
 
 heels, hanged by the neck, tod despoiled are apt 
 to forget the golden rule and its corollaries. 
 
 The little brig whizzed through the inlet into 
 water no calmer than the flat turmoil without, but 
 lacking, in a measure, the overlying cloud of 
 spume; and Mr. Todd saw, in a hurried look to 
 starboard, the big brig close up to the reef, with 
 cables, taut as iron bars, made fast to projections 
 of coral. .The sight decided him. The brig's 
 commander would never have made fast to the 
 reef had he not distrusted the holding ground be- 
 neath, and with a shout to Yank Tate to come 
 aft, he shifted the wheel and steered roughly for 
 the eastern inlet. Yank appeared. 
 
 '' Ifever mind the anchors," shouted Mr. Todd 
 in his ear. " Eig a tarpaulin in the port main 
 rigging to help steer. I'm making for the east 
 inlet." 
 
 Yank attended to this and Mr. Todd soon 
 picked up the opening to the southeast. To allow 
 for leeway he steered a full point higher than the 
 inlet's direction, and the staysail gave the little 
 brig good headway, with the square of canvas aft 
 to balance it. All might have gone well had not 
 a gun boomed out aboard the large armed brig 
 hanging to the reef and a solid shot plunged into 
 289 
 
Shipmates 
 
 the main-mast six feet below the hounds. There 
 was no sail on the mast except the tarpaulin in 
 the rigging; but in that furious pressure of wind 
 no mast weakened in this manner could stand. 
 The top-gallant mast was on deck, but the top-mast 
 and upper part of the lower mast sagged forward, 
 slowly and steadily; lanyards stretched like rubber 
 strings, then snapped, and down came the fabric 
 amid the roars of Mr. Todd and Yank to " Lay 
 aft, for your lives.'' It crashed on the lee rail, 
 balanced a moment, and rolled overboard; then, 
 held by the still intact mainstay, it drifted to the 
 quarter — an embarrassing drag, which pulled the 
 brig's head off before the wind, against the wheel, 
 which was hard down. 
 
 The crew, though frightened, were unhurt. 
 With axes and knives they slashed at rigging until 
 the wreck went astern, then they set a double fore- 
 spencer — an alleged storm-sail forward correspond- 
 ing to the spanker aft. But in spite of its age 
 and weakness it held together, and the brig sped 
 toward the inlet, rushed through at ten knots, and 
 squared away dead before the wind, for at least 
 a ten-hour scud, as there was no heaving-to with 
 all after-sail gone. Mr. Todd plotted his track, 
 and when the wind moderated rigged a jury main- 
 ?90 
 
A Fall from Grace 
 
 mast and sail of his maintop-gallant gear; then, 
 with short head sail, beat back to the atoll with two 
 dominating speculations in his mind — as to whether 
 his pearls were above water or below, and as to 
 why he had been fired at — arriving three days 
 later; by which time Yank's sore nose was healed 
 and his spirits recovered. 
 
 They noted the white tents on the southern 
 edge of the atoll as they skirted it, and well over 
 to the eastward — as far as where the reef broke up 
 into the maze of fragments through which ran the 
 deep east channel — were moving specks, men, un- 
 doubtedly, in red shirts, who seemed to be waving 
 caps. High and dry near the north inlet, unkempt 
 and forlorn, was the junk-like hull of the pirate 
 ship; but there was no sign of the large brig, 
 within or without. They sailed around until 
 abreast of the wreck ; then, with main yards backed, 
 the brig drifted. Leaving Yank in charge, Mr. 
 Todd lowered a boat and visited the wreck, confi- 
 dent that it was deserted. 
 
 He was right; it was not only empty of living 
 creatures, but stripped and gutted of everything 
 inanimate that was movable. There was not even 
 ballast in the hold; the cabin and forecastle were 
 void of furniture and clothing. The sails and gear 
 291 
 
shipmates 
 
 had, of course, gone with the masts, but guns and 
 carriages, deck blocks, pump-brakes, handspikes, 
 belaying-pins, and all ropes, lines, and running gear 
 had been removed by men. The dingy brown hull 
 was a shell, and though he searched high and low, 
 Mr. Todd found no trace of his pearls. He re- 
 turned to his little brig with gloomy face. 
 
 " Bothered 'bout somethin' in yonder," said 
 Yank as he climbed the rail. " Makin' a big 
 smoke." He pointed south, toward the thickened 
 part of the atoll, where black smoke soared sky- 
 ward. 
 
 " We'll go in," answered his chief, determin- 
 edly, after a look through the glass. '' I am not 
 yet sure of my duty, or of what is required of 
 me; but they are evidently in trouble — perhaps 
 hungry — and possibly open to terms." 
 
 They swung the yards and sailed in, across the 
 lagoon to within a hundred yards of the beach, 
 where, after first satisfying himself that the shout- 
 ing men on the strip of coral had no boats, Mr. 
 Todd dropped anchor and sculled in with his 
 dingey, stopping at a safe distance. 
 
 " Come in," yelled a tall, black-eyed, sun- 
 burned man with big mustache, who seemed to be 
 the leader. " Come in. We're all right — only 
 292 
 
A Fall from Grace 
 
 -d hungry and thirsty/' Then the rest — hol- 
 
 lowed-eyed and gaunt — voiced the invitation in 
 unmistakable sincerity. They were armed, to the 
 last man, with long knives, and were dressed in 
 red shirts and caps; but they were not the men 
 who had boarded the brig. 
 
 "Who are you?" asked Mr. Todd. "Why 
 are you here? You are armed; I am not, and 
 have lately suffered from it. Explain who you 
 are.'' 
 
 " Come in. We're all right. We're harmless. 
 Here — look." The leader tossed his long knife 
 toward Mr. Todd. It sank in two fathoms. 
 
 " Disarm — every man Jack of you," he 
 shouted, and a shower of knives fell around 
 the boat. 
 
 " Now, come in. We're marooned to starve — 
 that's all that ails us. We belong to the brig that 
 
 shot away your main-mast. D d sorry — 
 
 thought it was Chink. Had an old war with him, 
 and never thought he'd let any one get away from 
 him. So we let go at you." 
 
 "You mean," queried Mr. Todd, "that you 
 fired on what you supposed to be a pirate crew 
 who had first disposed of myself and men?" 
 
 " Yes — that's it. We knew his old tub — we 
 293 
 
Shipmates 
 
 knew Chink; and he never spared any one be- 
 fore. Thought he'd taken your brig for him- 
 self/' 
 
 " And why are you here? " 
 
 " We came in to mend our rudder, and had 
 to stay through the blow. "We got boats out, took 
 Chink and his gang off the reef, just in time to 
 save 'em alive, and afterward found his main-mast 
 and towed it in here — over yonder, with the guns 
 and dunnage." The leader pointed up the beach. 
 " We were going to help him refit, and stripped his 
 craft to launch her, but he put up a job on us 
 when our rudder was fixed; got all hands ashore 
 here but my mate, then rushed for the boats — the 
 lot of them — put off to the brig, killed the mate 
 as we watched 'em, and went to sea. We're sup- 
 posed to starve, while he gets away with my brig 
 and your pearls. He told me about his haul, and 
 I saw the bag." 
 
 Mr. Todd turned and hailed Yank, ordering 
 him to strike out a barrel of bread and a cask of 
 water. Then he sculled out to receive them, and 
 when Yank had lowered them into the dingey, he 
 invited him to come ashore. 
 
 " We have nothing to fear from these men," 
 he said. " They are pirates beyond doubt — but pi- 
 294 
 
A Fall from Grace 
 
 rates with a grievance equal to ours. Like us, they 
 are instruments. We can aid each other." 
 
 Which partly explains Mr. Todd's later ac- 
 quiescence to a questionable scheme propounded 
 by Captain Swarth at a conference in one of the 
 tents — the dominant reason being the enthusiastic 
 approval of the single-minded Yank Tate. The 
 scheme was, to temporarily change the missionary 
 brig to a pirate brigantine by substituting Chink's 
 main-mast with its still intact mainsail and gaff top- 
 sail for the jury rig; and thus disguised, to sail in 
 pursuit of Chink, whom Captain Swarth vowed he 
 could find, and recover by law of might the brig- 
 and the pearls. Yank stipulated ghoulishly that 
 in return for his services as carpenter in masting 
 the brig, he be allowed the privilege of prodding 
 Chink along the plank when he walked it, and 
 Mr. Todd stipulated that he be not involved in 
 conflict or contact with either side, receiving his 
 pearls merely for the loan of his brig. Captain 
 Swarth promised, and Mr. Todd chided Yank on 
 his bloodthirstiness. 
 
 " You are ever a backslider," he said sternly. 
 " What will be your future when you no longer 
 have me to guide and advise? " 
 
 " Don't know," answered Yank, calmly, as he 
 295 
 
Shipmates 
 
 bit off a chew of forbidden tobacco. " It's the 
 least of my troubles; and this good-for-evil business 
 don't always work. I gave him good — promised 
 to pray for him, and he gave me evil — plugged me 
 in the nose. An' then, you know, I'm an in- 
 strument." 
 
 Mr. Todd sighed and turned away, realizing 
 that Yank's independence came only of a prospec- 
 tive berth with Captain Swarth, who had taken 
 a strong fancy to him. He was certainly a valuable 
 man to any skipper. He dressed down and short- 
 ened the junk's main-mast to suitable dimensions 
 for use in the brig, and finding a split in the lower 
 end, he constructed a forge and shrunk an iron 
 band or two around it; he invented a coral paint, 
 to whiten the black brig, of coral powder and 
 boiled oil from Mr. Todd's paint locker, fashioning 
 the mill for pulverizing coral with two grindstones 
 and a couple of pump-brakes. He was cheery, in- 
 dustrious, and enthusiastic, loving work and his 
 fellow men, and limited only by his unseemly am- 
 bition to burn, sink, and destroy. 
 
 Mr. Todd had a hold full of provisions intended 
 
 for distribution and sale at the islands on his route, 
 
 80 there was no lack of food for these forty men, 
 
 though the water-supply was low. A kitchen was 
 
 296 
 
A Fall from Grace 
 
 set up on shore, and the bewildered Kanakas im- 
 pressed into the service of Swarth's cook, but they 
 were of little use. There being no carpenter in 
 the pirate crew, Yank was appointed foreman of 
 construction, Mr. Todd and Captain Swarth became 
 consulting engineers, and the crew — rascals all, but 
 white men and able seamen — were to carry on the 
 work, which they did, first diving up their long 
 knives. 
 
 Sheers rose on the brig's deck and the reduced 
 main-mast was stepped ; rigging was cut out and set 
 up; the top-mast was sent up and equipped; then, 
 when some sail-making was done, the brig had be- 
 come a brigantine — square-rigged forward, schoon- 
 er-rigged aft. Through it all Yank Tate looked 
 for orders less and less to Mr. Todd, and more and 
 more to Captain Swarth — yet, from no lack of re- 
 spect for Mr. Todd's seamanship, which was of a 
 quality that impressed even the pirate chief — a 
 skilled specialist — to the point of asking how he, 
 a mere missionary, had become so familiar with 
 nautical technique. 
 
 " Observation," answered Mr. Todd, " and a 
 few voyages before the Lord called me." 
 
 " Um — ^humph! Sure you were called? Men 
 like you are scarce aboard ship. Sure you were 
 20 297 
 
shipmates 
 
 not called to the quarter-deck? I knew by the 
 way you handled your craft in the typhoon that 
 you were one in a hundred — in fact, I thought 
 you were Chink — and he's a whole seaman. And 
 yet Chink got dismasted. Well, I want a mate 
 and quartermaster. Square it with yourself, and 
 the berth's yours at any time.'' 
 
 But Mr. Todd sadly and firmly declined. 
 
 " I feel," he said, " that I am entitled to my 
 little worldly store against the chances of old age, 
 but not to begin a career of violence and revenge 
 — though the world has used me badly, I admit." 
 
 " Suppose we can't recover your pearls? " 
 
 But the missionary sighed, and refused to dis- 
 cuss it. 
 
 They took Chink's four carronades, even though 
 the powder was wet, and cut ports in the bulwarks 
 against Mr. Todd's protest. It was done for its 
 moral influence on the missionary, and Yank voted 
 with Swarth. A few coats of white paint without, 
 and bunks for forty men within, completed the 
 little craft's degradation, and she put to sea with. 
 Swarth in command, Yank Tate in his old berth 
 — mate and carpenter — and her quondam com- 
 mander, the earnest and forceful Mr. Todd, a 
 quiescent and non-combative passenger. 
 298 
 
A Fail from Grace 
 
 Swarth headed for Pauna Lo island for water 
 and traces of Chink, and obtained both. A wild- 
 eyed man came off in the boat and told of his 
 being marooned by Chink for a small disagreement, 
 and of Chink's announced intention to ravage the 
 China seas with his fine new ten-gun brig — " fit 
 to thrash a man-of-war/' 
 
 The man was shipped and the brig sailed 
 west, leaving behind six Kanaka deserters, who, 
 no doubt, could live and die happily on this well- 
 stocked, well-watered island. But Mr. Todd, 
 on hearing this, voiced gently a sad suspicion 
 that Captain Swarth and the recreant Yank had 
 compounded the desertion — which may, or 
 may not, have been true. Yank was too 
 supremely happy to deny anything criminal and 
 disgraceful. 
 
 There were sure signs of Chink here and there 
 in the China Sea — wreckage, drifting boats holding 
 dead men, and an occasional smouldering and dere- 
 lict hull ; but they had cruised three months before, 
 early one morning, hove to in a howling gale off 
 the southern end of Formosa; they sighted a craft, 
 hull down in the west, which Swarth knew for his 
 brig. She was on the starboard tack, under double- 
 reefed topsails, spanker and foretopmast-staysail, 
 299 
 
Shipmates 
 
 and, the wind being out of the east, lay almost 
 directly to leeward. 
 
 " Our work is cut out/' said Swarth to his men 
 when they had assembled at his call. ^*' We'll run 
 down flying a distress signal to fool him, and we'll 
 keep out of sight till we get there. Then — there's 
 no turning back; for this craft can't lay alongside 
 in this sea. We'll board our own brig and take 
 her back. We've nothing but knives, but we know 
 how to use them. ITo quarter, for you'll get none 
 if you lose." 
 
 They yelled an approving response and flour- 
 ished their knives. And Yank, having none, ele- 
 vated his broad-axe-^a murderous tool with ten 
 inches of razor-like edge — and yelled the loudest. 
 
 Yards were squared, reefs taken out, and the 
 little vessel was headed toward the brig, while a 
 British ensign, union down, was fastened in the 
 port main rigging; then all but Swarth and a couple 
 of men — the three in yellow oilskins — hid them- 
 selves behind the rail, sharpening their knives as 
 they waited. In two hours they could make out 
 the huge figure of Chink on the brig's quarter, and 
 shortly after were within hailing distance. 
 
 " Brig ahoy! " roared Swarth through a trum- 
 pet. ^^Brig ahoy! " 
 
 300 
 
A Fail from Grace 
 
 " What you want ? " came back faintly against 
 the wind. '' Keep off wi' dat craft in dis big sea.'' 
 
 " Brig ahoy! " again called Swarth, as though 
 not understanding Chink's answer. '^ I'm short o' 
 grub and water. I'll heave to to windward o' you 
 and send a boat." 
 
 Chink sprang frantically to the top of the sky- 
 light, and, waving to his helmsman to put the 
 wheel up, sang out thundering orders to his men, 
 plainly distinguishable now, for the brigantine was 
 nearly upon him. 
 
 It was too late. Swarth had gained the time 
 he needed, and now putting his helm hard down, 
 rounded to alongside the brig — yards catching yards 
 aloft, rigging snapping, and Chink's cosmopolitan 
 crew rivalling their leader in blasphemous objurga- 
 tion. Then the two vessels crashed together, and 
 a dozen or so of Chink's men sprang over with their 
 short cutlasses, ready to exterminate the lubberly 
 visitors. But they did not return ; forty red-shirted 
 men arose to receive them, and great was their sur- 
 prise while it lasted. There were oaths and ex- 
 clamations, of course, steel clicked against steel, 
 and some red shirts were slashed and stained darker 
 red; but it was not a fight — merely a killing. 
 
 "Hurrah, lads!" shouted Captain Swarth, as 
 301 
 
Shipmates 
 
 he sprang over the rail to his own craft. ^^ Here 
 are the men who left us to starve. Give it to 'em." 
 
 Yank among them with his broad-axe, they 
 followed; and Mr. Todd, unarmed and dignified, 
 brought up to the rear. The little brigantine, with 
 yards square and canvas aback, bumped her way 
 astern, and drifted away — a future derelict. Mr. 
 Todd, near the main rigging of the brig, saw her 
 disappear, but had neither heart nor power to stop 
 her — so new, and horrid, and paralyzing was the 
 sight before him — a hand-to-hand struggle with 
 knives and cutlasses — the wickedest warfare that 
 human beings ever indulged in. A few single-shot 
 pistols exploded, but were not reloaded. The 
 shouting now was done by the mixed crew under 
 Chink. Swarth's men — trained in sheath-knife 
 fencing — saved their breath. Where one could 
 close with his opponent, he had the advantage — a 
 short preliminary wrestle, an opening, a sudden 
 thrust, and there was a man less. 
 
 But they could not always close, and those of 
 Swarth's men who had seized cutlasses from the 
 over-supply in the racks of the gun stations did not 
 need to; so there was a nerve-racking jingle of steel 
 added to the uproar as men fenced for their lives. 
 Forward, near the fore rigging, a huge negro of 
 302 
 
A Fall from Grace 
 
 Chink's crew lay with a divided shoulder — a victim 
 to Yank Tate's broad-axe, and as the fascinated 
 missionary watched he saw the handle of his broad- 
 axe rise and fall regularly, coming down on heads 
 and blades as a club. 
 
 But it became apparent to Mr. Todd that in 
 this furious melee length of steel was telling; there 
 were more red-shirted men prone upon the deck 
 than there were of the others. Yank had become 
 the centre of an enclosing circle of flourishing 
 blades, which he was keeping at a proper radius; 
 and on the poop deck Captain Swarth was engaged 
 with Chink, and holding his own; nevertheless it 
 was plain that the defenders of the brig were win- 
 ning. As the missionary looked, Swarth slipped 
 and fell. Before he recovered himself Chink had 
 sunk his blade into his shoulder, and without wait- 
 ing to repeat the thrust, he sprang to the main- 
 deck to join his men. Then it was that the Rev- 
 erend Mr. Todd took action. 
 
 Selecting a capstan-bar from the rack near him, 
 he whirled it over his head and walked briskly into 
 the fray, his long clerical coat-tails flapping with 
 his motion. His eyes sparkled in his sombre face; 
 his lips were parted and drawn tightly over his 
 gleaming teeth; he growled incoherently; he was 
 303 
 
Shipmates 
 
 not pleasant to look upon, nor was lie pleasant to 
 meet. A man faced him and fell — with, a crushed 
 head; then another, and another. There was no 
 standing before this tall, muscular terror, who 
 whirled, and twisted, and flourished that six-foot 
 club with quicker motion than they could give to 
 their cutlasses. They fell back and left him a 
 path, but he turned upon them. The circle around 
 Yank melted away, and men sprang to meet the 
 new enemy — but only to fall when they reached 
 him. Swarth's crew took heart and fought harder, 
 while Chink, whom Mr. Todd was plainly trying 
 to find, called his followers around him at the for- 
 ward door of the cabin and bade them defend it. 
 Then the pirate entered the cabin and returned 
 with the canvas ditty-bag. 
 
 " Here," he called, as he held it up. '^ Here, 
 you humble follower of de meek an' lowly Saviour. 
 Dis what you want. Take it, an' call off your 
 
 '' Throw it to me," yelled the frenzied mission- 
 ary. '' Throw it to me." 
 
 " Stop fightin', and make terms. We're not 
 
 beat yet." And Mr. Todd essayed to oblige him; 
 
 but the furious men beside him, with their leader 
 
 fallen, would not desist. They pressed harder 
 
 304 
 
A Fall from Grace 
 
 upon the little band at the cabin door. Then the 
 bag was thrown — overboard. 
 
 Mr. Todd became a homicidal maniac. He 
 yelled and shrieked, struck and prodded, killing 
 three of ten men surrounding Chink before he 
 met the chieftain face to face. Then these two 
 fought — the one with cutlass, the other with that 
 terrible club. There were fifteen of Swarth's men 
 beside him when that duel began, and of these, five 
 fell before the last of Chink's followers stretched 
 upon the deck. The survivors turned to end the 
 single combat raging along the deck from main- 
 mast to foremast; but in this fight there was no 
 room for their short knives. 
 
 Early in the fray Chink's cutlass flew in 
 pieces, and he fled to the main-mast, there to 
 arm himself equally. And now, around the deck, 
 forward and aft, to starboard and port, the two men 
 were contesting, with their ponderous weapons, in 
 a fight which in the nature of things could have 
 but one survivor. The giant mulatto, silent and 
 impassive, whirled his club and retreated; the 
 equally tall, but thinner, wirier, and quicker-mo- 
 tioned missionary, yelling and exclaiming insanely, 
 pressed him hard — striving to bring the six-foot 
 club down on the woolly head dodging before him. 
 305 
 
Shipmates 
 
 The red-shirted victors formed a circle about them, 
 but not one cared to enter within the sweep of those 
 capstan-bars, which, when they met, rebounded 
 with greater force than is usually given a black- 
 smith's sledge. The combatants stepped over the 
 dead and living bodies, and upon them; they 
 stooped, endeavouring to lunge; they sprang in the 
 air, and to the right and to the left; they fenced — 
 and their fencing came of no skill acquired by tute- 
 lage, but of instincts derived from the age of stone, 
 when clubs were the only weapons and victory the 
 only prize of combat — and at last Chink stumbled 
 on the outstretched arm of a dead man, and the co- 
 incident sweep of his club lost its initial direction, 
 just enough to admit of the descending bludgeon 
 of the missionary to strike a glancing blow on his 
 head. He fell, but his head was not injured; it 
 was his crushed shoulder — crushed by the impact 
 of the carom blow, which brought an agonized 
 howl from his throat and the fight to an end. He 
 dropped his weapon and sat upon the deck. 
 
 "Surrender!" shouted the missionary, hold- 
 ing his capstan-bar poised. 
 
 Chink glared at him, wildly and helplessly, 
 making no response. The men crowded up. 
 
 " Bind him hand and foot," ordered Mr. Todd, 
 306 
 
A Fall from Grace 
 
 panting hard, but self-contained now. '' Bind him 
 tight. I made him a promise once." The men 
 obeyed him as they would their captain. 
 
 Chink's evil face, as they fastened his wrists 
 and ankles, was a composite of all unworthy emo- 
 tions; yet he made no sound until Mr. Todd ordered 
 the main-staysail halyards overhauled to the deck 
 and a hangman's noose made in the end of the 
 fall. Then he voiced his protest in a loud, wail- 
 ing tone. 
 
 '^ You won't do dat? O Mister Todd; you won't 
 do dat? Help! Don't hang me. I give you 
 pearls. I got lots. I gib you money to make up. 
 Don't hang me, Mister Todd." 
 
 "Hush," answered the missionary, sternly, as 
 they slipped the noose around his neck and drew 
 it tight. " You marked yourself for the vengeance 
 of God when you tortured and robbed a man who 
 had not harmed you, but had the courage to follow 
 you. I warned you. — Up with him, men," he 
 called; "hook the bight in the stanchion sheave 
 and bowse him up." 
 
 The howling mulatto was lifted upright, his 
 
 cries troubling the air until the noose stifled them; 
 
 then, amid the pitiless laughter and shouting of 
 
 his executioners, he went aloft to the halyard 
 
 307 
 
shipmates 
 
 block, to squirm and strangle until deatli came to 
 him. As he left the deck Mr. Todd bowed his head 
 and lowered his eyes, and remained in this attitude 
 until the rope was belayed; but in this scene of 
 vengeance and reprisal the single-minded Yank 
 Tate took no part. 
 
 Mr. Todd, hardly hearing the congratulations 
 of the men left standing, climbed the poop steps 
 and looked for his brigantine. She was out of 
 sight, behind the blank wall of spindrift raised by 
 the storm. He looked vacantly at the red-shirted 
 man at the wheel, who, shouting jubilantly, was 
 pushing his predecessor's body out of his way with 
 his feet. He looked up to the heavens and groaned 
 hoarsely, then raising his arms high above his head, 
 brought them slowly down with a sweeping motion 
 that might have meant renunciation of heaven or 
 defiance of hell. His eye fell upon Captain Swarth, 
 who was beckoning, and weakly trying to make 
 himself heard. He went to him, bound his 
 wound roughly, placed a coil of rope under his 
 head, talked with him for a moment, then went 
 forward. 
 
 Yank Tate sat upon the deck beside his victim, 
 the big negro. He had placed his knee beneath 
 the woolly head for a pillow; he was holding a tin 
 308 
 
A Fall from Grace 
 
 pot of water to the thick lips of the dying man, 
 and explaining, while tears welled in his honest 
 brown eyes. 
 
 " Couldn't help it, old man," he was saying, as 
 Mr. Todd stopped before him. " An' I couldn't 
 do it again, God, no — never again. I can use a 
 club, but not an axe — never again. You're the 
 only one, old man, and I'm d d sorry." 
 
 The glazing eyes brightened a moment, then 
 dulled, and the huge black head rolled to one side. 
 The negro was dead. Tank stood up and looked 
 into the drawn face of Mr. Todd through his 
 tears. 
 
 '' Yank Tate," said the missionary in a strained 
 voice, " you left my service against my wishes 
 and engaged with Captain Swarth, refusing to take 
 orders from me. You will take them now; I am 
 your superior officer. My life is wasted, my vessel 
 is lost, and my wealth is in the sea. From the sea 
 will I recover it. Captain Swarth is seriously 
 though not fatally injured, and I have engaged 
 with him as mate and quartermaster. May the 
 Lord have mercy on our two souls, Yank — on 
 yours in particular if you ever cross me again. 
 Clear up the decks and throw these carrion over- 
 board." 
 
 309 
 
shipmates 
 
 " Ay, ay, sir," answered the astounded car- 
 penter. 
 
 Mr. Todd went aft, and Yank wiped his eyes. 
 
 " And he called me a backslider," he mut- 
 tered. 
 
 310 
 
THE DUTCH PORT WATCH 
 
 Half the crew were Liverpool Irishmen — 
 rough, desperate fellows, equally ready to drink 
 and fight on shore and to mutiny at sea, but sailors 
 in head and heart, able seamen in all that the name 
 implies. The other half represented the slums of 
 nearly every seaport of Europe — Danes, Germans, 
 " SouVegians,^' and " Dagoes," all classed to- 
 gether by English and American sailors as 
 " Dutchmen." 
 
 The first mate was a Norwegian, a little dried- 
 up fellow who always looked as though he had just 
 been whipped, and in choosing watches, this ofiicer 
 picked the Dutchmen, for reasons that were plain 
 to us all; while the English second mate, a larger, 
 older, and presumably more efiicient man, selected 
 the Irishmen and to my satisfaction included me, 
 for I had the true American boy's distaste for for- 
 eigners and considered an Irishman as nearer my 
 kin than any one of the Latin, German, or Scan- 
 dinavian races. 
 
 311 
 
shipmates 
 
 The third mate was an American, but a weak- 
 ling — a young man with a heavy mustache and 
 vapid face, who, from the time he was thrashed by 
 a httle cockney stowaway who came to light within 
 a few days, was the object of all hands' derision 
 and contempt. The boatswain, a heavily-built, 
 black-eyed, sun-burned fellow, was the ablest of 
 our officers. Being the only man of the old crew 
 who declined to be worked out at Liverpool, he had 
 been promoted to the post of boatswain solely — 
 as he claimed — to placate him and forestall any 
 possible complaints at ISTew York in regard to the 
 quality of food given to the crew on the last pas- 
 sage. Evidence as to what this food must have 
 been was found in the sprouting grain in old pans 
 and pots in the forecastle; and the boatswain 
 averred that had it not been for the cargo of good 
 wheat the crew would have mutinied, as nothing 
 short of starvation would induce a man to eat the 
 poisonous condemned navy stores which the cap- 
 tain had purchased at San Francisco. 
 
 But there was no lack of good food — of its 
 kind — on this passage; and the captain — old Bully 
 McKane, as he was called — made a characteristic 
 speech in regard to it. When the two mates had 
 finished choosing watches and dismissed us, he 
 312 
 
The Dutch Port Watch 
 
 stepped to the break of the poop, and bellowed: 
 ^' Stay where you are — I want a word or two with 
 you/' We halted and looked up at the squat fig- 
 ure outlined against the moonlight in the sky. 
 
 " I have heard ashore/' he began in his raspy 
 voice, '' a good deal about my shipping a crew of 
 Dutchmen at 'Frisco that I could safely kill with 
 w^ork on rotten grub; and I have heard that my 
 ship was the hungriest packet that ever docked at 
 Liverpool. I never want to hear that again. I 
 have shipped this time as many tarriers as I could 
 find and as few Dutchmen, and picked the biggest ; 
 but I haven't shipped a man I can't get away with. 
 I have laid in full and plenty of the best grub in 
 the market, and I'm going to give you all you can 
 eat of it and as much work as I can lay into you; 
 and if you don't work I'll break every head among 
 you. Now go forward and commence." 
 
 The profanity with which he punctuated these 
 remarks is not given; it Avould not add to their 
 emphasis. This was at eight bells in the evening, 
 but we went " forrard " and '' commenced." Night 
 and day throughout the passage we scraped and 
 painted spars and deck-fittings, set up, rattled 
 down and tarred down rigging, and holy-stoned the 
 deck. This last job, which is ordinarily left to the 
 21 313 
 
Shipmates 
 
 end, was begun right in the middle of the tarring 
 and painting, and coincident with the shedding of 
 the officers' coats and their going to work with the 
 rest of us. The captain watched the ship, and to 
 give us time to clean up before making port, sailed 
 her down below the Azores. She was a large 
 double top-gallantsail and skysail yard ship, with 
 a beautiful hard-pine deck on which our holy- 
 stones slid like soap. These holy-stones were 
 blocks of sandstone eighteen inches square, with 
 ropes fast to them by which three men to wind- 
 ward and two to leeward could drag them across 
 the deck. Captain McKane personally superin- 
 tended this work, and often would seat himself on 
 a holy-stone to increase the pressure; then, while 
 he swore at us, we would ride him back and forth. 
 Once a perspiring Irishman stopped hauling and 
 said : " Can't I make ye a whip next watch below, 
 cappen, so ye kin lick up yer harses?" He was 
 promptly knocked down and stepped upon until 
 he promised to be civil. . 
 
 The captain was crowding into a short Atlantic 
 run the work which a passage around the Horn is 
 none too long for, with the result that nothing 
 was done thoroughly, and some things done twice 
 over. The men revenged themselves by all sorts 
 314 
 
The Dutch Port Watch 
 
 of pretty tricks — for instance, a little scratch, 
 would appear in the deck, indicating the presence, 
 on the bottom surface of the holy-stone, of a small 
 pebble. This was always picked out, of course, 
 but usually just before the appearance of the cap- 
 tain in the vicinity and after the deck at that spot 
 resembled a chopping-block. And paint pots and 
 tar pots would sail down from aloft, spattering 
 their contents anywhere; but, as in every case the 
 offender was called down to a painful rebuking, 
 grievances were not thoroughly adjusted in this 
 manner. 
 
 Boy-like, I took a hand in this, and success- 
 fully. I was sent aloft one day by the captain to 
 overhaul buntlines on the mizzen; and when about 
 to climb to the royal yard I noticed a half-filled 
 tar pot fastened to the runner of the halyards — left 
 there by one of the other watch. The rigging be- 
 low was filled with men, tarring and painting, and 
 beneath, pacing the now white quarter-deck, was 
 Captain McKane. I weighed the chances, consid- 
 ered that I was the only one on the mizzen who 
 could not show a pot of some kind, also that I was 
 the only one not supposed to have a pot, and, put- 
 ting my trust in Providence, let it go, giving it 
 a gentle toss to windward. It sprinkled tar on 
 315 
 
shipmates 
 
 every yard and sail in its descent, then, striking 
 the white sky-light amidships, bounded straight for 
 the captain's face, and cutting his cljeek open, gen- 
 tly emptied the rest of the tar down his starched 
 shirt-front. Before that pot had passed the top- 
 sail yards I was half-way up to the royal, and while 
 the captain was roaring up, " Come down, every 
 infernal one of you," I was innocently busy at my 
 task on the yard where no tar pots were supposed 
 to be. Down we all came and gave evidence. My 
 disclaimer was loudest as my position was secur- 
 est; but it was not until next watch below that I 
 knew how well my shipmates had stood by me. 
 
 ^^ l!^ext time, sonny," said one of them, '' take 
 better aim; an' if ye kin put a marline-spike in the 
 pot, do it, for the good of his sconce — the shlave- 
 driver." It was the thoughtless trick of a boy. 
 If that tar pot had struck the captain fairly on the 
 head, our troubles might have ended, as the mean- 
 est Dutchman aboard would not have feared the 
 mates, and the boatswain was one of us. 
 
 To our other crimes against property we added 
 that of broaching cargo. We found in the 'tween- 
 deck, lashed to a stanchion near the cabin trunk, 
 a half-barrel of Golden Drip sirup belonging 
 either to the cabin stores or to some unoffending 
 316 
 
The Dutch Port Watch 
 
 consignees — we did not inquire. We easily picked 
 out the bung in the darkness of the night, and by 
 lowering a cle^n Manilla rope-yarn into the cask 
 and draining off the adhering sirup into a tin pot, 
 kept both forecastles supplied for the passage. It 
 much improved our duff, the usual sauce for which 
 is Santa Eosa molasses. 
 
 This molasses is the last dregs of the vats and 
 bears so close a resemblance to Stockholm tar in 
 viscidity, stickiness, and general nastiness, that in 
 forecastle discourse it sometimes borrows the 
 name. Every duff day (Sunday and Thursday) 
 two quarts of this stuff would be passed into each 
 forecastle, and not caring to return it or throw it 
 overboard in the daytime, we merely dumped it 
 into a condemned wash-deck tub, which lay in the 
 forecastle, and later on found a use for it. 
 
 The duff too is an institution only found at sea 
 — a pasty mess of cheap flour and fresh water, 
 lightened with a very little saleratus and shortened 
 with a great deal of slush from the cook's barrel, 
 tied up in a bag and boiled in salt water; but it is 
 a treat to sailors, and duff days are looked forward 
 to. Christmas came on Wednesday and we hoped 
 that it would be a holiday according to custom; 
 but we holy-stoned — profanely — and only found 
 317 
 
shipmates 
 
 the day honoured with duff. For this we were 
 duly thankful, but when the next day (the regular 
 duff day) passed off with the Wednesday pea soup 
 for dinner, our opinion of Captain McKane was 
 heartfelt and unanimous. 
 
 At last the awful holy-stoning was finished and 
 the deck scrubbed clean early on a moist day of 
 Gulf Stream weather, at the end of which all 
 hands, including the cook, steward, and carpenter, 
 went at the job of oiling it — half dry as it was. 
 Time was limited and oil plenty, so we literally 
 poured it around in a profusion that would have 
 prevented its drying in a week, even with sun- 
 shine to help. All that day we had been painting 
 bulwarks and blocks aloft and continued this work 
 up to the oiling of the. deck, the result being that 
 night came down with wet paint everywhere which 
 we were not supposed to touch, and a slippery deck 
 beneath us which we were not supposed to walk 
 on, planks for this being laid around where travel 
 was necessary. 
 
 But with the coming of night came a Cape Hat- 
 teras gale from the northeast with sleet and snow. 
 Then was developed a curious state of affairs — 
 not a man on board but the boatswain knew the 
 ropes. We had made sail in the Channel as a new 
 318 
 
The Dutch Port Watch 
 
 crew always does — by feeling our way; we had not 
 shortened sail once since then and touched no 
 ropes but braces; she was a curiously rigged craft 
 with experimental gear all through her; and with 
 skysailclew-lines and buntlines mingling with 
 royal gear, and the extra upper top-gallant down- 
 hauls and spilling-lines hidden in a maze of lower 
 buntlines at the fife-rail, she presented, with her 
 oily deck, a problem that we did not solve for ten 
 hours. Ten terrible hours they were, too, of 
 darkness and storm, of freezing wind and blinding 
 sleet and snow. The ship was in ballast trim and 
 was tossed over the seas like an egg-shell. With a 
 deck made greasier by the mixture of oil and snow, 
 no one was sure of his footing, and it was a com- 
 mon occurrence that night for a dozen or fifteen 
 men to be launched headlong toward the lee-bow 
 as she dived into a sea. 
 
 A general rule is to heave-to on the starboard 
 tack north of the equator, in order to drift away 
 from the storm-centre; but with Cape Hatteras to 
 leeward, Captain McKane did not dare. He put 
 the ship on the port tack, and nearly on her beam 
 ends from the increasing pressure, she drifted to 
 sea while we endeavoured to shorten sail. When 
 thoroughly drenched, one by one, we found an op- 
 319 
 
shipmates 
 
 portunity to sneak into the forecastle and don oil- 
 skins. 
 
 Skysails, royals, and head-sails came in easily 
 in the darkness by our letting go all ropes which 
 might contain among them sheets or halyards and 
 hauling on anything that might be a buntline, clew- 
 line, or downhaul. We got the upper top-gallant- 
 sails down but could not find, in the inky smudge, 
 buntlines or spilling-lines, so left them to clew up 
 the lower. This done, we reduced the upper top- 
 sails to hollow cylinders — unable as with the upper 
 top-gallant-sails to find the spilling-lines — and then 
 hauled up the courses by ^^ brute strength and stu- 
 pidity " — all hands, for instance, tugging at a fore 
 buntline for a full half-hour without gaining an 
 inch before discovering that the bight of a gasket 
 was jammed in the block above. With the excep- 
 tion of the boatswain, more incompetent officers 
 than ours never pretended to oversee a crew of 
 men. I^ow and then a roar would leave the poop 
 from the captain, which the boatswain would an- 
 swer and try to attend to, but the three mates kept 
 themselves out of his sight — huddled under the lee 
 of the weather rail or the forward house — and 
 rarely uttered an order. 
 
 The outer and flying jibs were bags on the jib- 
 320 
 
The Dutch Port Watch 
 
 boom threatening to tear it out of her; for, light 
 as the ship was, she sometimes spooned up a green 
 sea; and with nothing set now but the lower top- 
 sails, two head-sails, and the spanker — everything 
 else being in bights or ribbons — we went aloft to 
 furl. I found myself on the mizzen skysail yard 
 —where I belonged — and spent a cool hour there 
 before I mastered the sail; for by this time it was 
 blowing so hard that breathing was difficult facing 
 the wind, and in the rigging, climbing up was 
 easier than climbing down. 
 
 Descending, I found the royal furled, the up- 
 per top-gallant yard stripped bare — I had not 
 heard the sail go — and four of my Irish watch 
 mates struggling with a remnant of the lower top- 
 gallant-sail. My assistance, slight as it was, turned 
 the balance and we conquered it. Below us was the 
 rest of the watch fighting the upper topsail, and 
 with nothing accomplished. We joined them, but 
 it was only by lying out at full length on that rigid 
 cylinder and fishing with our toes for the gaskets 
 tossed up from underneath that we finally smoth- 
 ered the sail and furled it. The cro'-jack, with its 
 clews hauled into the bunt, was easy, compared 
 with that topsail, and we made short work of it, 
 coming down to go up the main. 
 321 
 
shipmates 
 
 Again I found myself alone — on the main sky- 
 sail yard — and yelled for help, as this sail was a 
 task for a grown man in easier weather. In about 
 ten minutes a man came up from below and to- 
 gether we furled it, after I was nearly brushed 
 from the yard by the parting of the weather bunt- 
 line ; then we descended to the royal and were com- 
 pelled to shout again for help. The men on the 
 top-gallant yard were having their hands full, and 
 answered, " Cut the bloomin' rag away and give 
 us a hand." As royals were cheaper than top-gal- 
 lant-sails, and as the thrashing sail was endanger- 
 ing the slight spar, we obliged them, I at the 
 weather side barely getting off the foot-rope be- 
 fore the sail whirled over my head, smothering my 
 companion's curses and binding him tight. I cut 
 the clew-lines, and in half a minute more there was 
 nothing but shreds left of the main royal. 
 
 Ten Irishmen and an active boy can furl an 
 upper main top-gallant-sail, no matter how hard it 
 blows, if they have time, but we had begun to fear 
 that we would not have time before the gale ended; 
 we were encouraging one another to cut it away — 
 which was easier than furling — and the man far- 
 thest to leeward had ruined his sheath-knife by a 
 desperate slash in the darkness at a chain head ear- 
 322 
 
The Dutch Port Watch 
 
 ing, when one man in the bunt caught a bare inch 
 of a gasket tossed up by a man on the yard below. 
 The men each side of him held his legs while he 
 crawled out on the hollow cushion of icy canvas 
 and secured a firmer grip; then he was dragged 
 back, the gasket coming with him; others caught 
 hold, and the sail was smothered and furled in ten 
 minutes. 
 
 The lower top-gallant-sail with clews amidships 
 was a five minutes' job, and we came down to the 
 upper topsail yard and spread out on that frozen 
 cylinder, knowing to a man that we could not furl 
 it; but it was our business to try, and we did, to 
 the extent of punching our fists into it without 
 making a dent, though hurting our knuckles. 
 ^Neither spilling-lines nor reef-tackles had been 
 touched; but the upper and lower edges of the sail 
 were brought close together by the downhauls, 
 and through this great pipe the wind hummed with 
 a sound that I have often heard in the subtones of 
 a pipe-organ. It prevented all communication by 
 speech, and we looked for some gesture or sign 
 from the boatswain in the slings to indicate what 
 we were to do, and saw him pointing forward. 
 There, through the darkness and snow, we made 
 out the port watch streaming slowly down the 
 323 
 
Shipmates 
 
 foretopmast rigging, leaving behind them a furled 
 skysail and royal — all they had done — and two 
 top-gallant-sails in ribbons. 
 
 Motioning us to remain, the boatswain de- 
 scended, and after a while we felt the spilling-lines 
 creasing into the sail; but they were not hauled 
 home, nor were the reef-tackles touched. The 
 boatswain came back and beckoned us down. He 
 told us afterward that he had chased the Dutch- 
 men out of their forecastle and put the spilling- 
 lines in their hands, but they were half-frozen, 
 almost unable to get out of their own way, and 
 that it was impossible to get them into the rigging. 
 The three mates were out of sight — he did not 
 know where. 
 
 We descended with ice on our left sides and 
 breasts a quarter inch thick, leaving untouched 
 the mainsail, which now resembled a snow- 
 drift on the lee yard-arm; for it was useless 
 for one watch to attempt furling it. We had 
 worked bare-handed aloft, our blood was circulat- 
 ing, and we had not really suffered from cold; but 
 no sensation that I can remember ever equalled 
 the agreeable warmth I experienced under the lee 
 of the weather rail on deck. I was thirsty, and 
 while I had the chance, darted into the " boys' 
 324 
 
The Dutch Port Watch 
 
 room '' to get a drink of water. There, sitting on 
 my chest, was the third mate, crying. 
 
 "What's the matter, Mr. Parker?" I asked, 
 rather amazed. 
 
 " Got a spare sou'wester, boy? " he whim- 
 pered. " I've lost mine." 
 
 I had one, and pulling it from my bunk, gave it 
 to him, secured my drink, and stepped out on deck, 
 meeting the boatswain coming in — possibly on the 
 same errand that had brought me. Then, through 
 the open door, I heard some bad language, and 
 soon out shot Mr. Parker with the boatswain's fist 
 close behind. He fell on the main hatch and the 
 boatswain followed, kicked him off the hatch to the 
 greasy deck and into the lee scuppers, kicked him 
 solidly and silently a few times more, and left him. 
 The pitiful officer picked himself up, sneaked for- 
 ward, and was not seen again until the trouble 
 was over. 
 
 1^0 w there came a roar from the captain on the 
 quarter-deck steps. " Bosun," he called, " I want 
 you to take your crowd of Micks up the fore and 
 try to stow those t'-gallant-sails. If you can't do 
 it, cut 'em away 'fore they take the spars out of 
 her. The port watch are dead and my officers are 
 hidden. Bear a hand now." 
 325 
 
shipmates 
 
 '' Ay, ay, sir/' answered the boatswain cheer- 
 fully. " Come on, bullies," he said to us; " we'll 
 do their work for 'em, and break their heads after- 
 ward." 
 
 " Not much," I said to myself; " I've had 
 enough." For, seventeen years old, half-formed 
 and irresponsible, I felt that I had done my share; 
 and, resolved on doing a little ^' soldiering " my- 
 self, went forward with the grumbling crowd, and 
 farther than they; for I shot into the arms of the 
 first mate, who, with some of his watch, was 
 skulking under the top-gallant forecastle. 
 
 " Vat yer vant here, boy? " he snarled vicious- 
 ly. " Get oud on deck." I got, according to my 
 orders, and it was perhaps well for the others that 
 the mate — ^possibly through shame— followed me; 
 for at the weather fore rigging I met the cap- 
 tain. 
 
 '^ Lay aloft there," he shouted, and this was 
 repeated by the mate behind with the addition: 
 "Hidin' under der fo'castle, sir; I yoost chased 
 him out." 
 
 " It's a lie, captain," I yelled from the sheer- 
 pole. " I've been aloft half the night." 
 
 " And where have you been, you blasted old 
 hen? " I heard the captain say in his mighty voice. 
 326 
 
The Dutch Port Watch 
 
 Then, as I climbed the ratlines and their figures 
 became indistinct in the darkness, I heard, even 
 above the roar of the gale, a crashing sound fol- 
 lowed by a hollow thud — as of a skull impacting 
 on a water-tank — and knew that something had 
 happened to the mate. 
 
 I joined my watch-mates on the top-gallant 
 yard and was called a fool for coming. Our task 
 was a hard one; but the very men who had cut 
 away a good main royal and mizzen top-gallant-sail 
 rather than furl them now laboured like horses to 
 save two worthless remnants, because it was a job 
 given up by the other watch. We conquered the 
 ragged tangle, lashed it to both yards, and de- 
 scended, making no pretence of an attempt to furl 
 the sails beneath. It would have been as easy to 
 furl a section of a steamship's funnel as that hol- 
 low, icy upper topsail humming its song to the 
 gale; and as for the foresail — snow and sleet and 
 freezing spindrift were binding it tighter than a 
 man-of-war's crew could have done. It thrashed 
 a little, as it hung in the buntlines, but not enough 
 to damage it. 
 
 As I felt again that agreeable warmth under 
 the weather rail, I vowed by all I held holy that 
 no power on earth should get me aloft again that 
 
Shipmates 
 
 night; but along came the stricken and rejuven- 
 ated Dutch mate. 
 
 ^^Now den — now den, you starboard watch; 
 go oud and stow der yibs — stow der ouder and 
 flyin' yibs/' he called, as loudly and bravely as 
 though his record was good. 
 
 " Stow nothinV growled an Irishman; 
 ^' where's yer own crowd? " 
 
 ^' We b'long aft — we've done our work/' said 
 others. 
 
 " Yell, come aft and clew up der mizzen topsail. 
 Hurrah, now; you belong on der mizzen, you say." 
 
 Just then a dark figure passed behind the mate, 
 and he went down, slid to leeward on the slippery 
 deck, and crawled aft in the darkness. Something, 
 or somebody, must have hit him; and, as nobody 
 claimed the credit, I think the dark figure was the 
 boatswain, who, being an officer, waived the later 
 honors. 
 
 But with the mate thus disposed of we still 
 had the captain, who was not so easy. He was 
 forward in a few moments, indignantly rebuking 
 us with bad words and a belaying-pin, and we 
 went aft at his behest and clewed up his mizzen 
 topsail; then we climbed aloft — I going along in 
 epite of my vow — and spread ourselves along the 
 328 
 
The Dutch Port Watch 
 
 icy yard and foot-rope to another half -hour's work. 
 We furled it, after a fashion, and compacted, one 
 with the other along the yard before laying in, that 
 our next task would be to hunt for the port watch. 
 
 But our next task was really a scramble for 
 dear life in along the yard. About half of us were 
 into the rigging when the weather end of the 
 furled topsail lifted off the yard; then, with a 
 snapping of gaskets and robands, and a flapping, 
 thrashing, and scattering of ice, the whole sail went 
 over to leeward, going to pieces almost before it 
 was blown from the yard. A later investigation 
 by the boatswain discovered the outer gasket and 
 a few robands, as well as the bolt-ropes close 
 to the head-cringle, nearly cut through — indicat- 
 ing some sheath-knife work. The man farthest to 
 windward, and who must have done it, was the 
 one who had been knocked down at the holy-ston- 
 ing; but he was not accused or troubled — the boat- 
 swain saying nothing about it. 
 
 On reaching the deck we trooped forward, the 
 captain following us, cursing and roaring to " take 
 in the spanker.'' "We answered him not. We 
 cleaned out the midship capstan-bar rack, which 
 gave us six long clubs. Five belaying-pins — my 
 own an iron affair — completed our armament, and 
 23 329 
 
shipmates 
 
 we hunted for Dutchmen. We found them under 
 the top-gallant forecastle, in the paint locker and 
 boatswain's locker, and in their own forecastle — 
 two in their bunks — with the door closed. 
 
 We hammered, punched, kicked, and cuffed 
 them, crowding them on deck, up the forecastle 
 steps, and out the icy bowsprit. We clustered in 
 the knightheads, threatening to brain the first 
 Dutchman who came in before the jibs were 
 stowed; and as they were, evidently, more afraid 
 of us than they were of the storm and the danger, 
 they stowed the jibs. When they came in we took 
 it upon ourselves to let go the inner-jib halyards. 
 They hauled it down and went out and stowed it, 
 while we bossed the job. Then we chased them 
 aft and told the captain that if he wanted the 
 spanker furled we would have it done for him. He 
 replied that he would like to have it furled (he had 
 grasped the situation and wisely accepted it); we 
 asked him — very respectfully — if he wanted it 
 reefed first, and he said that he did; so we saw that 
 it was done. The first mate was there and assisted 
 in the job, and during the persuasion necessary 
 was rapped on the head more than once by an iron 
 belaying-pin. 
 
 As the ship was carrying too much head-sail 
 330 
 
The Dutch Port Watch 
 
 now to balance well, we suggested taking off the 
 foretopmast-staysail, to which the captain's dig- 
 nity prevented a response; but we drove them 
 forward again, took in this sail, and consulted. 
 We were now under the fore and main lower top- 
 sails with the upper topsails and courses unfurled, 
 but steady. If it had been in the power of all 
 hands to have furled either of these last, we would 
 have driven our slaves aloft and gone with them; 
 for we were officers for the first time, and enjoyed 
 the experience. 
 
 It was now after four o'clock in the morning 
 and the Dutchmen's watch below, so we relieved 
 the wheel — the '' Sou'wegian " who had steered 
 eleven hours in a warm, dry wheel-house complain- 
 ing bitterly of his long trick when he came for- 
 ward until silenced by an Irish fist — ^but we com- 
 pelled them to coil up the gear before allowing a 
 man to leave the deck. While this was going on 
 the second mate appeared — quietly coiling up 
 ropes. Where this officer had been during the 
 trouble, and how he explained to the captain, is a 
 mystery. He was a shrewd, experienced man — 
 an officer for years — but had seemed to go to 
 pieces that night. Neither he, nor the first and 
 third mates, received another order from the cap- 
 331 
 
Shipmates 
 
 tain, or gave one to the men, for the rest of the 
 passage. They moved about the decks, trying to 
 be of use in a half-hearted, embarrassed way, but 
 were thoroughly ignored by the captain, and in- 
 sulted by the men. 
 
 The storm-centre must have been past us now, 
 to the eastward, and travelling faster than our 
 drift; for the wind moderated at daylight. Before 
 evening we had made top-gallant sails, and by the 
 next morning the whole of the canvas, bending 
 new sails in place of those lost. Cold weather con- 
 tinued as we sailed up to Sandy Hook, and one 
 would have thought that, after our assuming police 
 duty during the blow. Captain McKane would hesi- 
 tate to " work us up '' any more. But he kept us 
 at it, the last job given the Irish half being to tar 
 down the fore rigging at night in the middle watch, 
 after the tug had taken our line. 
 
 Captain McKane did not know until the sun 
 had warmed up his rigging in port, and the fore 
 channels, rail and deck were covered on both sides 
 with a black, sticky mess, that we had filled our 
 tar pots with the despised Santa Eosa molasses 
 accumulated in the old wash-deck tub. It re- 
 mained in place only as long as the rigging was 
 cold. But the treacle on the forward deck was not 
 332 
 
The Dutch Port Watch 
 
 the only disfiguration of this big " skysail yarder '' 
 which we had worked so hard to make a yacht of. 
 Deck and paintwork from bow to stern were 
 spotted like the hide of a brindle cow, while one 
 side of every fixture, spar, and rope, from the deck 
 to the trucks, was covered with a coating of salt, 
 left there as the frozen spindrift thawed, so that 
 from a position four points off the port bow she 
 could easily appear in a half light as a dingy, di- 
 lapidated, spectral Flying Dutchman. 
 
 333 
 
ON THE FORECASTLE DECK 
 
 " Who goes on lookout? '^ 
 
 I am the man and I call out my name. 
 
 " Watch out for a flashing white light on the 
 port bow. Believe the wheel and lookout. That'll 
 do the watch." 
 
 A man goes aft to the wheel, the watch goes 
 below, and I climb the steps to the forecastle deck, 
 where my predecessor is waiting at the capstan. 
 
 ^' Keep your eyes peeled for a flash-light ahead 
 and to port. Pass the word along." 
 
 " All right. Go below — but what do they ex- 
 pect it is? " 
 
 ^^ Don't know. Some lighthouse; we're on 
 soundings." 
 
 He is gone. I rub the sleep from my eyes and 
 scan the clear-cut horizon ahead. There is no sign, 
 of a light, and I pace up and down, and back and 
 forth from cathead to cathead, with an occasional 
 glance over the sea. It is a beautiful night — the 
 kind that brings meditation and retrospection. 
 335 
 
Shipmates 
 
 The full moon hangs in the southern sky, and 
 depending from it to the horizon is a darkening of 
 the deep blue which can only be likened to a shad- 
 ow or a curtain of shade. From a point a hundred 
 yards from the ship to the base of this curtain 
 extends a glittering, narrowing track of liquid fire. 
 There are a few stars shining faintly in the flood of 
 light; there is wind, a soughing breath aloft, just 
 strong enough to belly the canvas; overboard is a 
 tinkling, musical wash of water, accentuated to a 
 rhythmical crash under the bow as the ship buries 
 her cutwater, and losing volume on the way aft to 
 revive in the swirling cross-currents of the wake. 
 I can hear the murmur of my watch mates' voices 
 amidships, and the regular thumping of the mate's 
 boot heels on the poop. He is pacing up and down 
 like myself, perhaps from habit, perhaps to waken 
 himself; for we have all lost much sleep lately. 
 
 But I am wide awake — the moonlight and its 
 memories have banished the sleep — and I halt in 
 my walk to lean over the capstan, with no fear of 
 the drowsiness which usually attends the first half- 
 hour of the watch on deck at night. It was just 
 such a night as this when I once walked through a 
 lane with a girl and stopped at the gate of a flower- 
 filled yard. And though my eyes are mechanically 
 336 
 
On the Forecastle Deck 
 
 fixed upon the horizon ahead and to port, watching 
 for that flashing white light, my mental vision is 
 taken up with the image of the girl. She is facing 
 me, one small hand resting on the gate, one small 
 foot peeping from beneath her dress, the colour 
 gone from the cheek, and the tears starting in her 
 eyes. In the strong moonlight I can see the 
 womanly pity and regret in her sweet face, the 
 twitching at the corners of her mouth, and the 
 slow, troubled nodding of her head. She is saying: 
 " No, no ; I am not for you. We are not alike. 
 You must go your way, and I must go mine. We 
 can not even be friends, for there is no middle 
 ground.'' 
 
 And that is why I am back before the mast this 
 night, hanging over the capstan, watching for a 
 flashing white light and thinking of her. The re- 
 bellious heart in my breast chokes me, and the re- 
 bellious brain in my head throbs in pain while it 
 tries to formulate the reason of it all — why I, who 
 must love her through life, am debarred on this 
 account alone from her friendship, from her so- 
 ciety — from even her acquaintance. I, who would 
 give my all for a smile, for a glance of recogni- 
 tion, must not know her, speak to her, nor meet 
 her. The stranger yet unborn is nearer to her 
 337 
 
Shipmates 
 
 than am I, and of the millions of human beings in 
 the world she is farthest removed from me. 
 
 Because, for certain temperaments, ihere is no 
 middle ground. 
 
 It is a bitter speculation, and not all men have 
 known it. In my own case I can only work out 
 the problem to this: I love because I can appreci- 
 ate — I lose because I love too much. 
 
 A twinkle of light shows on the dark line of 
 horizon. I stand erect to make sure, and it is 
 gone. As I watch it sparkles again. 
 
 " Flashing white light on the port bow, sir," I 
 sing out, glad of the relief to my bitterness of 
 mind — gratified that I had been first to see it. 
 
 " All right.'^ 
 
 I watch the light. It is not regular in its com- 
 ing and going; it has a refulgence uncommon in 
 beacon lights; it leaps to a flare, and sinks to a 
 glow; it expands to a nebula, and breaks up into 
 fragments. 
 
 " Keep her away for that light," I hear the 
 mate call to the man at the wheel; then, to the 
 third mate : ^' Eouse out all hands ; send up a 
 rocket or show a torch. That's a ship afire." 
 
 A ship afire! I turn and look again. There 
 is no mistake — the mate is right. I can clearly 
 338 
 
On the Forecastle Deck 
 
 make out two slim spars and a black funnel, sharp- 
 ly cut in the reflection. The blaze is aft, and the 
 steamer is heading toward us, while from our 
 change of course she takes a position from two 
 points on the port bow to one directly ahead. 
 
 As though the powers behind the wind had 
 taken direct cognizance of the extremity, the 
 breeze freshens with our change of course, and 
 we rush down the wind with breaking seas curling 
 under our counter. Yards are square as before, 
 for the change merely brings the wind from 
 slightly on one quarter to slightly on the other. 
 Soon we can make out the shape and position of 
 deck houses and the indefinite shadow of hull be- 
 neath. Over the sparkling flare, and left behind 
 by her motion, stretches a canopy of smoke; and 
 there is a black thickening and rise of her sheer 
 forward which can be nothing but closely packed 
 human beings. 
 
 The watch below is out. Men are clewing up 
 the courses; others are dancing aloft to the fore- 
 yard with hoisting tackles; aft, the third mate and 
 the ship's boys are clearing away a quarter-boat, 
 and amidships the carpenter is sending up rockets. 
 But I am on lookout, and until called down or re- 
 lieved, can take no part in this. 
 339 
 
Shipmates 
 
 With the increase of wind comes a lowering 
 of temperature and a darkening of the sky. I 
 shiver, and buttoning my jacket snug to my throat, 
 resume my walk back and forth from cathead to 
 cathead. A glance aft shows me the southern sky 
 shaded with an almost opaque curtain of cloud; 
 the moon is nearly obscured. A few flakes of 
 snow brush my cheek; a keener edge comes to the 
 pressure of wind, and aloft the seolian song of a 
 new-born gale wails in the rigging. There will be 
 trouble and grief to-night, I know: boat work in 
 a snow-storm and rising sea. 
 
 " Keep a good lookout for'ard, there," roars 
 the mate from amidships, and I answer, thankful, 
 with a sailor's irresponsibility, that mine is the 
 easiest duty on board. 
 
 Fast as we are charging toward the flaming 
 craft, the snow squall is faster, and soon details 
 are hidden; nothing but a red glow guides the 
 man at the wheel, and toward this we rush at ten 
 knots, while the blaze itself approaches at an equal 
 speed, until again details are shown us. She is 
 still head to wind; but engines have stopped, and 
 steam is escaping in a muffled roar. The fire has 
 reached the engine-room, and we are just in time. 
 To our ears against the gale come screamings 
 340 
 
On the Forecastle Deck 
 
 and shoutings, and we see frantic waving of 
 hats. 
 
 " Check in starboard fore and port cro' jack 
 braces/' calls the skipper from the poop. " Leave 
 the main-yards square till we try her. Down wi' 
 the wheel. Starboard— hard over." 
 
 Around we come with the swinging of the 
 yards Until the canvas on the main is aback; the 
 helmsman is given a course and the ship is tried. 
 A little manipulation of the main-yards satisfies 
 the skipper, and we lie steady on the port bow of 
 the steamer, drifting bodily to leeward, with 
 vicious seas from squarely abeam pounding our 
 weather side. We are hove to, with our starboard 
 fore yard-arm directly over the boats on the for- 
 ward house. A skilful manoeuvre, but he is a 
 skilful skipper. 
 
 "Over with the boats!" 
 
 They are already cleared away, turned on their 
 keels, and the yard-arm tackles hooked to the 
 ring-bolts. Up they rise, one at a time, with two 
 men in each to unhook and drop the boat back to 
 the main channels. Outboard they swing until the 
 two end tackles from the fore and main yards can 
 take their weight, and they descend to the water. 
 One at a time the three boats are launched to the 
 341 
 
Shipmates 
 
 tune of the mate's roaring orders, and not a man 
 is hurt or a drop of water shipped. A skilful job, 
 but — ^he is a skilful mate. 
 
 Aft, the ship's boys under the third mate have 
 lowered the lee quarter-boat, and are off with a 
 hurrah, just ahead of the first of the whale-boats 
 from forward. Then follow the rest: four boats^ 
 crews are racing to leeward to save life, cheering 
 as they disappear in a thick smudge of snow from 
 which they may not return. As the third mate is 
 in the quarter-boat, the other three must be in 
 charge of the second mate and the two boatswains, 
 leaving the first mate aboard; for I hear again his 
 thundering voice from the poop : '' Keep a good 
 lookout for'ard, there." 
 
 I answer again, and watch in the direction of 
 the steamer. The towering flame seems to cut the 
 snow in a line with my eyes; for, though I can see 
 her distinctly, and apparently can see the crisping 
 sea beneath my line of sight, the boats are invisi- 
 ble. 1 look slowly around at the inclosing wall of 
 gray, and see nothing but our spars and deck fit- 
 tings. No prompt report from a lookout could 
 save a ship hove to in this snow should anything 
 under sail or steam come out of that gray wall: 
 yet I am on lookout, and my duty is to watch, 
 342 
 
On the Forecastle Deck 
 
 But I would now rather be in one of those boats, 
 cheering with the rest as I pull to save life. 
 
 A rocket rises from amidships at regular inter- 
 vals. We have a lazaret half full and the car- 
 penter does not sparis them. Up they go, whizzing 
 and sputtering, high above the royal yards before 
 they turn down and burst. It is this bursting in 
 mid-air that is depended upon to show our direc- 
 tion to the boats: it can be seen through snow 
 and fog that would obscure the fiery line of 
 ascent. 
 
 I turn to the burning steamer. She is now on 
 our starboard bow, drifting to leeward at a lesser 
 rate than ours, for we are under sail. She is 
 pointing our way, nearly end on, and the flames 
 amidships are lapping the bridge near the foremost 
 — this from the change of head to beam wind. The 
 black thickening at the forward rail is now thicker, 
 and I can plainly see little dots and spots descend- 
 ing from it — ^people jumping, probably into our 
 boats. 
 
 This is soon confirmed. The dots and spots 
 cease dropping, and a faint cheer comes over the 
 sea. Kocket after rocket goes aloft until a rous- 
 ing hail to starboard indicates the return of the 
 first boat. It is the quarter-boat. She comes 
 343 
 
Shipmates 
 
 ghost-like and immense out of the snow, and the 
 third mate sings out: 
 
 " Women and children, sir. Let's have a bo- 
 sun's chair.'' 
 
 The boat comes around to the lee side. Four 
 men have been left aboard and the bosun's chair 
 is already rigged. Down it goes from the lee 
 main-yard and brings up a woman. Down again; 
 up with another. Then comes a man with a child 
 in his arms; then more men. The steward minis- 
 ters unto them, and the boat disappears into the 
 gray. 
 
 The other boats heave in sight, one by one, and 
 discharge their living freight; then back to the 
 steamer and back to the ship. The decks are fill- 
 ing with men and boys, and here and there a 
 woman or a child. Some seek the shelter of the 
 forward house, and stare to windward at the red 
 glare upon the gray wall. One slight figure leaves 
 this group, steps upon the forehatch, and looks 
 steadily up at me. 
 
 We are drifting faster than the blazing 
 steamer; she is now on our port bow, and our dis- 
 tance is increasing; but, as I watch, the black line 
 on her forward rail grows thinner and thinner, 
 while boat after boat comes out of the snow and 
 344 
 
On the Forecastle Deck 
 
 returns to her. Then they come, the four together, 
 and I hear the joyful hail of the second mate: 
 " Got 'em all, sir. Good thing, too. There's 
 powder in her hold." 
 
 I step to leeward and look down on the con- 
 fusion below where three boats endeavour to keep 
 clear of each other while a fourth unloads. Then 
 I return to the capstan, where, facing me in the 
 flurry of snowflakes, is a slight figure — a woman. 
 One small hand rests upon the capstan, one small 
 foot peeps from beneath her dress. I had seen 
 this attitude in a girl at a gate in the moonlight. 
 The parallel is more complete — there is the same 
 slow, troubled nodding of the head. It is more 
 than complete; it is the girl. For, though I can 
 not distinguish her features, I know her voice 
 when she speaks. 
 
 " You would not come home, so I come to you. 
 Why would you not come? I waited so long." 
 
 I spring toward her, and she advances, her 
 head still slowly nodding. I forget the situation — 
 the storm, the crowded decks, my position on 
 lookout, our isolated prominence in full view of 
 those who would look — and I extend my arms. 
 
 But a sudden lighting up of the duU-hued 
 blanket of sea and sky startles us both. Then 
 23 345 
 
shipmates 
 
 comes gray darkness, and on the port bow is a faint 
 point of light where -had shown the flare of the 
 burning steamer; then a shock, and a report like 
 the boom of near-by thunder, and, with the point 
 of light fast fixed in my eyes, I hear a thundering 
 voice from the poop: "Keep a good lookout for- 
 ward, there." 
 
 A shiver, colder than the snow, passes through 
 me; the girl seems to move away into nothingness; 
 the gray of the snow-filled air changes to the clear 
 brightness of a moonlit sky, and I am hanging over 
 the capstan still gazing at a point of light burn- 
 ing steadily on the port bow. It bursts into a 
 flare for a second, then subsides to its steady 
 glow. 
 
 " Ay, ay, sir," I manage to answer, while my 
 brain reels and my legs quiver under my weight. 
 *^ Flashing white light on the port bow, sir." 
 
 " All right — all right. Keep your eyes open 
 on lookout, there." But the mate does not come 
 forward. 
 
 I have slept on lookout. How long I do not 
 know, until a watch-mate appears within call and I 
 hail him. 
 
 " How many times did the mate sing out to 
 keep a good lookout? " 
 
 346 
 
On the Forecastle Deck 
 
 '' Once. He saw the light 'fore you did. Been 
 asleep? " 
 
 ^^About a second or two." 
 
 Dreams are curious in that they require no 
 time that can be measured by finite units. That 
 call from the mate to " keep a good lookout for- 
 ward, there/' which I heard twice at different times 
 in my dream, was the call which wakened me. A 
 dream is an instantaneous photograph, not a mov- 
 ing picture of sequences, and I had long known it. 
 But what I do not know, and what I shall learn 
 when I reach shore, is the inner meaning of that 
 dream. I shall be there in a month, when the 
 moon will again be full; and I shall seek a quiet 
 country village that I know, a lane in that village, 
 a gate in the lane, a house behind the gate, a girl 
 in the house. I shall ask her if, at half past twelve 
 of this night, she did not dream of storm and fire, 
 and rescue at sea. 
 
 I may also ask her something else. 
 
 THE END 
 
 347 
 
A PICTURESQUE BOOK OF THE SEA. 
 
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 Recollections of Forty Tears of Naval Life. By Rear- 
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 The Private Life of the Sultan. 
 
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 usually pass as recent likenesses. 
 
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BOOKS BY E. F. BENSON. 
 
 The Luck of the Vails. 
 
 A Romance. i2mo. Cloth, I1.50. 
 
 ** If Mr. Benson continues to write novels as interesting as this latest prod- 
 uct from his pen — stories that will hold the attention of the reader as absorb- 
 ingly as this one is sure to do — he is very likely to win a name among English 
 fiction writers that shall be as lasting as — say, the name of Wilkie Collins." — 
 Brooklyn Eagle. 
 
 Mammon & Co. 
 
 i2mo. Cloth, ^1.50. 
 
 ** Mr. Benson writes from intimate knowledge and the inside. He is a part 
 of the very society which he openly censures. . . . His novel stands out as a 
 strong bit of work in which he is very much at home. Its brilliant sayings 
 and clever epigrams give it a finish and polish which are even more effective 
 than the setting itself. What is more, Mr. Benson sees with a great deal of 
 heart the tragedy of human experience, and writes of it feelingly.'* — Boston 
 Herald. 
 
 Dodo. 
 
 A Detail of the Day. i2mo. Cloth, $1.00; 
 paper, 50 cents. 
 
 ** * Dodo * is a delightfully v/itty sketch of the * smart ' people of society. 
 . . . The writer is a true artist." — London Spectator. 
 
 The Rubicon. 
 
 i2mo. Cloth, ^i.oo; paper, 50 cents. 
 
 "The anticipations which must have been formed by all readers of 'Dodo* 
 will in no wise be disappointed by * The Rubicon.* The new work is well 
 written, stimulating, unconventional, and, in a word, characteristic. Intel- 
 lectual force is never absent, and the keen observation and knowledge of char- 
 acter, of which there is abundant evidence, are aided by real literary power." — 
 Birmingham Post. 
 
 D. APPLETON AND COMPANY, NEW YORK. 
 
A STORY OF THE PEOPLES POWER. 
 
 The Eternal City. 
 By Hall Caine, author of "The Christian/' "The 
 Manxman," "The Bondman/' "The Deemster/' 
 etc. i2mo. Cloth, ^1.50. 
 
 ''A vivid and moving picture of Roman life." — Pittsburg 
 Commercial Gazette. 
 
 ** Bound to exercise a great influence in the controversies now- 
 exciting the world,*' — St. Louis Post-Dispatch. 
 
 " One of the very strongest productions in fiction that the 
 present age has been privileged to enjoy." — Philadelphia Item. 
 
 **The most ambitious work the author has so far undertaken, 
 and may be regarded his greatest success." — Cleveland Plain- 
 Dealer. 
 
 ''A powerful novel, inspired by a lofty conception, and 
 carried out with unusual force. It is the greatest thing that Hall 
 Caine has ever attempted." — Brooklyn Eagle. 
 
 " The praise of the great men of letters — Ruskin, Collins, 
 Blackmore, Gladstone — who hailed with delight the advent of 
 * The Deemster ' and ' The Bondman,' should now be readjusted 
 to meet present exigencies, for Mr. Hall Caine has done for the 
 myriads of his English readers what Walpole did for a smaller yet 
 not less discriminating public. . . . The true Italian spirit of 
 Onuphrio Muralto we find revived after many years in * The 
 Eternal City.' " — New Tork Times Saturday Review. 
 
 D. APPLETON AND COMPANY, NEW YORK. 
 
HAMLIN GARLAND'S BOOKS* 
 
 UNIFORM EDITION. 
 
 Each, J2mo, doth, $1.25* 
 
 Wayside Courtships. 
 
 ** A faithful and an entertaining portrayal of village and rural life in the West. . . . 
 No one can read this collection of short stories without feeling that he is master of the 
 subject." — Chicago jfournal. 
 
 Jason Edwards. 
 
 An Average Man. 
 
 *' The average man in the industrial ranks is presented in this story in as lifelike a 
 manner as Mr. Bret Harte presented the men in the California mining camps thirty 
 years ago. ... A story which will be read with absorbing interest by hundreds of 
 workingmen." — Boston Herald. 
 
 A Member of the Third House. 
 
 A Story of Political Warfare. 
 
 ** The work is, in brief, a keen and searching study of lobbies and lobbyists. At 
 least it is the lobbies that furnish its motive. For the rest, the story is narrated with 
 much power, and the characters of Brennan the smart wire-puller, the millionaire Davis, 
 the reformer Tuttle, and Evelyn Ward are skillfully individualized. . . . Mr. Garland's 
 people have this peculiar characteristic, that they have not had a literary world made 
 for them to live in. They seem to move and act in the cold gray light of reality, and 
 in that trying light they are evidently human." — Chicago Record. 
 
 A Spoil of Office. 
 
 A Story of the Modem West. 
 
 **It awakens in the mind a tremendous admiration for an artist who could so find 
 his way through the mists of familiarity to an artistic haven, ... In reading * A Spoil 
 of Office ' one feels a continuation of interest extending from the fictional into the actual, 
 with no break or divergence. And it seems to be only a question of waiting a day or 
 two ere one will run up against the characters in real life." 
 
 The Eagle's Heart. 
 
 A Story of the West. i2mo. Cloth, $1.50. 
 
 " A story told with all the fidelity of observation, the sincerity and the insight which 
 mark his work at its best. The clear, open atmosphere of the farther West is in the 
 hooV..*^— 'Chicago Record. 
 
 " Fresh and absorbing in its interest A novel of red blood and vigorous life."— 
 Detroit Free Press. 
 
 A Little Norsk ; 
 
 Or, or Pafs Flaxen. i6mo. Boards, 50 cents. 
 
 " True feeling, the modesty of Nature, and the sure touch of art are the marks of 
 this pure and graphic storj', which has added a bright leaf to the author's laurels."— 
 Chicago Tribune. 
 
 D. APPLETON AND COMPANY, NEW YORK. 
 
By MAARTEN MAARTENS. 
 
 Each^ J2mo, cloth, $L50* Uniform Edition* 
 
 Some Women I have Known. 
 
 *' Maarten Maartens is one of the best novel writers of this or 
 any day." — Chicago Times- Herald. 
 
 " Maarten Maartens stands head and shoulders above the 
 average novelist of the day in intellectual subtlety and imaginative 
 power." — Boston Beacon. 
 
 Her Memory. With Photogravure Portrait. 
 
 " Maarten Maartens took us all by storm some time ago with 
 his fine story christened * God's Fool.' He established himself 
 at once in our affections as a unique creature who had something 
 to say and knew how to say it in the most fascinating way. He is 
 a serious story writer, who sprang into prominence when he first 
 put his pen to paper, and who has ever since kept his work up to 
 the standard of excellence which he raised in the beginning." — 
 New York Herald. 
 
 The Greater Glory. A Story of High Life. 
 
 " It would take several columns to give any adequate idea of 
 the superb way in which the Dutch novelist has developed his 
 theme and wrought out one of the most impressive stories of the 
 period. ... It belongs to the small class of novels which one 
 can not afford to neglect. " — San Francisco Chronicle, 
 
 God's Fool. 
 
 "Throughout there is an epigrammatic force which would 
 make palatable a less interesting story of human lives or one less 
 deftly told." — London Saturday Review, 
 
 Joost Avelingh. 
 
 ** Aside from the masterly handling of the principal characters 
 and general interest in the story, the series of pictures of Dutch 
 life give the book a charm peculiarly its own." — New York 
 Herald, 
 
 APPLETON AND COMPANY, NEW YORK. 
 
DR. BARTON'S BOOKS- 
 
 Pine Knot. 
 
 A Story of Kentucky Life. By William E, Barton. Illus- 
 trated by F. T. Merrill. i2mo. Cloth, gi.50. 
 
 The story is full of the atmosphere of the quaint mountain 
 life with its wealth of amusing pecuharities, and it also has a his- 
 torical value, since it pictures conditions attendant upon the anti- 
 slavery movement and the days of the war. The interest of a 
 treasure search runs through the tale, the author having adroitly 
 utilized a mountain legend of a lost mine. *«Pine Knot" is a 
 romance ''racy of the soil " in a true sense, a story fresh, strong, 
 and absorbing in its interest throughout. 
 
 **Like Mr. Allen's * Reign of Law,' * Pine Knot' is a thoroughly whole- 
 some story written by a man of earnestness and purpose. It is a novel to be 
 read and enjoyed, and then put away to be read later." — Buffalo Express. 
 
 "The humanity of the book will touch every reader. The quaint pecul- 
 iarities of the community are introduced with picturesque effect, but eccentrici- 
 ties are only appropriate entertaining accompaniments of a skillfully portrayed 
 development of character and social life. Few modern writers possess such a 
 power of describing an interesting and generally unknown people so apprecia- 
 tively, graphically, and often humorously. — The book has a vivid, cumulative 
 interest. ' ' — Congregationalist. 
 
 A Hero in Homespun. 
 
 A Tale of the Loyal South. By William E. Barton. I2mc. 
 Paper, 50 cents; cloth, ^i.oo. 
 
 ** Vigorous, spirited, truthful, absorbing." — Neiv York Critic. 
 
 ** A thoroughly interesting, red-blooded, virile story, and at the same time 
 a historical document of the very greatest value." — The Bookman, 
 
 ** Will be read with keen enjoyment." — Ne'w Tork Times. 
 
 **The story is one of intense interest." — Boston Herald. 
 
 " Abounds in life and incident. The men and women move and act 
 spontaneously. The primitive customs and usages of the mountaineers have 
 been carefully pictured." — Philadelphia Ledger. 
 
 > Mill Ill I 1 
 
 D. APPLETON AND COMPANY, NEW YORK. 
 
THREE GOOD NOVELS. 
 
 Eacht ^2mot cloth^ $S*50* 
 
 i z=. 
 
 The Wilderness Road* 
 
 J Romance of St. Clair's Defeat and Wayne's Victory. By J. 
 A. Altsheler, author of ** In Circling Camps," *^A Herald of 
 the West," etc. 
 
 **Full of health and vigorous life.** — Chicago yournal. 
 
 ** The author is one of those who do not need warm commendation ; his 
 name will carry any story." — Buffalo CommerciaL 
 
 "There is a strong odor of the open country, and many fine pictures of the 
 woodland in this book, and above it all stands out the eternal interest the reader 
 takes in the characters." — Neiv York Journal. 
 
 ** He takes his situations, always lively, dramatic, and full of possibilities, 
 and handles them with an ease and adroitness the skill of which is more and 
 more apparent as, in their turnings and twistings, they constantly flash upon the; 
 fascinated reader some new phase, yet ever leave him in the dark as to the 
 next move or the final outcome. — Chicago Tribune, 
 
 The Curious Courtship of Kate Poins* 
 
 By Louis Evan Shipman. Illustrated. 
 
 *' One of the best written novels of the year. It will be widely read and 
 generally admired. The romance has vigor, tone, and cumulative interest that 
 increases as the story ascends to its climax.'* — Philadelphia Item. 
 
 **The rakish days of Beau Brummell afforded delightful material for a bril- 
 liant and diverting romance, and the author of ** D'Arcy of the Guards " has 
 made fullest use of it. The story lacks little in either boldness or brilliancy.** 
 — Cleveland World. 
 
 The Lucfc of the Vails* 
 
 A Romance. By E. F. Benson, author of ''Dodo," "The 
 Rubicon," ''Mammon & Co." 
 
 ** Attention is held firmly from the first spell of interest to the final cli- 
 max. ' * — Neivark Advertiser. 
 
 "Really an interesting story, and whoever begins it will want to read it 
 through.'* — Waterhury American. 
 
 ** The story is well told, the interest is sustained throughout, working up 
 to a fitting climax, and the book is full of bright, entertaining conversation." — 
 Chicago Journal. 
 
 D. APPLETON AND COMPANY, NEW YORK. 
 
By ELLEN TH0RNEYC210FT FOWLER. 
 
 Each^ i2mo, doth, $I*50» 
 Sirius. 
 
 A new book by the author of ** Concerning Isabel Camaby " and ** The 
 Farringdons " needs no introduction. All readers of the best fiction know 
 her epigrammatic quality and humor, her adroitness in the suggestion of 
 character, and her command of original situations and unexpected social 
 climaxes. Her new book is a gallery of vivid miniature of various phases of 
 English life. Its unfailing interest will increase the author's well-earned 
 reputation, 
 
 Cupid's Garden. With new portrait of the Author. 
 
 ** Whatever this author sends out has freshness and originality, and her 
 sketches of people are so deftly drawn that one wonders at the versatility. 
 * Cupid's Garden' is a collection of stories of love, not all of which run 
 smooth, but which all exhibit some noble trait of the tender passion." 
 — Indianapolis News, 
 
 The Farringdons. 
 
 " Miss Fowler makes her own audience, which, large as it is in England, 
 must be even larger in this country. There is a deeper note in this story than 
 any she has yet sounded. . . . ' The Farringdons ' is, above all else, a procla- 
 mation to the world that the religion which Christ brought to humanity is a 
 living power, undiminished in strength, the mainspring of the actions and 
 aspirations of millions of Anglo-Saxons." — New York Mail and Express, 
 
 Concerning Isabel Carnaby. New edition, with 
 
 Portrait and Biographical Sketch of the Author. 
 
 ** No one who reads it will regret it or forget it." — Chicago Tribune. 
 
 *'For brilliant conversations, epigrammatic bits of philosophy, keenness 
 of wit, and full insight into human nature, ' Concerning Isabel Camaby ' is 
 a remarkable success." — Boston Transcript, 
 
 A Double Thread. 
 
 *' The excellence of her writing makes her book delightful reading. She 
 is genial and s)rmpathetic without being futile, and witty without being 
 cjrnical." — Literature^ London, 
 
 D. APPLETON AND COMPANY, NEW YORK 
 
BY CYRUS TQWNSEND BRADY. 
 
 Commodore Paul Jones. 
 
 A new volume in the GREAT COMMANDERS 
 SERIES, edited by General James Grant Wilson. 
 With Photogravure Portrait and Maps. i2mo. 
 Cloth, 1 1. 50 net; postage, 11 cents additional. 
 
 " An excellent biography . " — The Outlook. 
 
 " Has the fascination of a romance." — Ch'veland Plain Dealer. 
 
 **It has the interest of an absorbing romance." — Neiv York Commercial 
 Ad'vertiser. 
 
 "A thousand times more interesting than any of the so-called historical 
 romances that are now in vogue." — Spirit of the Times. 
 
 " Mr. Brady's vigorous style, vivid imagination, and dramatic force are 
 most happily exhibited in this book." — Philadelphia Press. 
 
 **Mr. Brady's book shows great study and care, and brings out many new 
 and characteristic incidents not hitherto published." — Neiv Ha'ven Palladium. 
 
 "No better biographer than Mr. Brady could have been found for the first 
 admiral of our fleet. The book is good biography, but it is also good patriot- 
 ism." — Neiv Tork Mail and Express. 
 
 ** Brady's * Commodore Jones ' is incomparably fine. Being the work of a 
 scholarly writer, it must stand as the best popular life yet available. The book 
 is one to buy and own. It is more interesting than any novel, and better written 
 than most histories." — Nautical Gazette. 
 
 Reuben James. 
 A Hero of the Forecastle. A new volume in the 
 YOUNG HEROES OF OUR NAVY SE- 
 RIES. Illustrated by George Gibbs and Others. 
 i2mo. Cloth, 1 1. 00. 
 
 "A lively and spirited narrative." — Boston Herald. 
 
 " An entertaining and patriotic study." — Neivport Neivs, 
 
 " Mr. Brady has made a stirring tale out of the material before him, one of 
 those brilliant and forceful descriptions of the glories of the old wooden walled 
 navy, which stir the blood like a trumpet call." — Brooklyn Eagle. 
 
 D. APPLETON AND COMPANY, NEW YORK. 
 
UNIVEESITY OF CALIFORNIA LIBEAEY, 
 BERKELEY 
 
 THIS BOOK IS DUE ON THE LAST DATE 
 
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 Books not returned on time are subject to a fine of 
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 to $1.00 per volume after the sixth day. Books not in 
 demand may be renewed if application is made before 
 expiration of loan period. 
 
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 SENT ON ILL 
 
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 NOV 15 I92a 
 
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UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LIBRARY