SONNIE-BOY'S PEOPLE

[Illustration: "Look here, Sonnie-Boy. Here's a man says your papa isthe greatest man ever was in his line. "]

SONNIE-BOY'S PEOPLE

BYJAMES B. CONNOLLY

ILLUSTRATED

CHARLES SCRIBNER'S SONSNEW YORK :::::::::::::::::::::: 1913

COPYRIGHT, 1913, BYCHARLES SCRIBNER'S SONS

Published September, 1913

CONTENTS

 PAGE

SONNIE-BOY'S PEOPLE 1

TIM RILEY'S TOUCH 51

IN THE ANCHOR WATCH 95

CROSS COURSES 123

LEARY OF THE "LIGONIER" 167

HOW THEY GOT THE "HATTIE RENNISH" 199

KILLORIN'S CARIBBEAN DAYS 231

THE BATTLE-CRUISE OF THE "SVEND FOYN" 261

THE LAST PASSENGER 285

ILLUSTRATIONS

"Look here, Sonnie-Boy. Here's a man says your papais the greatest man ever was in his line" _Frontispiece_

 FACING PAGE

"And of course your brother is laying great plans toassure his future?" 6

"That two-faced chairman of yours--he never tippedme off you could fight any way except with yourhands. " 90

The Orion proved to us that she was faster off the windthan we were by rounding Cape Cod before us. 156

It was Drislane she had, his head cuddled on her kneestill the tug came and got us. 164

"Just then one came right under her forefoot and anotherunder her counter. And I looks back to the gunboat. " 226

The strangers out with revolvers, back my men intothe fo'c's'le, and lock them in. 268

'Twas me she walked home with. 276

SONNIE-BOY'S PEOPLE

The man with the gold-headed cane had been headed for the cottage, butespying the boy at the water's edge, he changed his course. He crept towithin a few paces of the lad before he hailed: "Halloo, little boy!I'll bet I know who your papa is. "

The boy looked casually around. Seeing that it was a stranger, he facedabout and stood respectfully erect. 

"Mr. Welkie's little boy, aren't you?"

"Yes, sir. But I'm 'most six. "

"Oh-h, I see--a big boy now. But what have you got there?"

The boy held up the toy steamer with which he had been playing. 

"Oh-h, I see now. What are you going to do with it?"

The boy looked sidewise out to where in the bay a fleet of battle-shipswere lying to anchor. 

"Load it with sugar and pineapples, and ship 'em to the States, areyou?"

"But it's a gun-ship. See--where the turrets 'n' the fighting-tops willbe when papa makes them. "

"Oh! and so you want to be a great merchant?"

"I want to be a fighter"--articulating slowly and distinctly--"on a biggun-ship. "

"Well, if ever you do, little man, I'll bet you'll be a game one, too. Is your papa home?"

"No, sir, but Aunt Marie is. "

"And is Aunt Marie busy, do you think?"

"I don't know, sir, but she's making a battle-flag for my gun-ship. "

"That so? I think I will call on Aunt Marie, then. "

Swinging his cane and advancing leisurely, the stranger headed for thescreened veranda door. 

Marie Welkie, because of having to keep an eye on her nephew from theveranda, could not avoid noticing the stranger. The clothing, thejewelry, the air of assurance, had disturbed and half amused her; butthe kindly tone with the boy, the parting pat of his head, were morepleasing. She answered his knock herself. 

"Good evening--Miss Welkie?" That Southern "good evening" in the middleof the afternoon likewise pleased her. 

"Miss Welkie, yes. "

"I'm Mr. Necker. " From a gold-mounted case he drew out a card. "I'mlooking for your brother. "

"He won't be home for some time yet. But won't you step in, Mr. Necker, from out of the sun?"

"Thank you. It is warm, isn't it? Warmer than ordinary?"

"No, I shouldn't say so. It's usually hot here. "

"Then it must be hot here when it is hot. It wasn't so bad out in theGulf. I just got in--from Key West. Not many passengers come here, MissWelkie?"

"Only somebody especially interested in the works--usually fromWashington. Do you mind if I go ahead with this ensign for my nephew, Mr. Necker?" She held up a partly finished American ensign. Above thetop of it the visitor could see part of the very white forehead and afront of dark straight hair. "I promised to have it ready for my nephewsurely by morning, and after my brother gets home there probably won'tbe much spare time. But were you the only passenger for here, Mr. Necker?"

"There was one other. He got off at the new fortification landing. Twenty-nine or thirty perhaps he was--a well-made, easy-moving kind. "His voice was casual, but his gaze was keen enough. It never left herface. "A tall man came running down to meet him, " he resumed. "Theyseemed terribly glad to see each other. "

"That must have been my brother to meet--Mr. Balfe, was it?--yourfellow-passenger. "

He hesitated a moment. "Mr. Balfe--yes, that was it. The captain--or wasit the captain?--said that there was a Mr. Balfe who went on specialmissions for the government, but whether this was the Mr. Balfe or nothe could not say. "

She sewed serenely on. "I've heard that that steamer captain isdeveloping into a great gossip. Our Mr. Balfe is my brother's dearestfriend and godfather to my brother's boy--the boy you were speaking toon the beach--and if he ever found himself in this part of the worldwithout calling on us, I don't know what my brother would think. "

This time Miss Welkie looked up, and Necker smiled with her. Also hepeered smilingly through the veranda vine. "So that is your brother'sboy out there? Well, well! And a fine boy, too! A beautifully shapedhead. Bright, I'll bet?"

"Naturally"--with a tender smile--"we think so. "

"I'll bet he is. And of course your brother is laying great plans toassure his future?"

"I'm afraid you are not well acquainted with my brother, Mr. Necker. "

[Illustration: "And of course your brother is laying great plans toassure his future?"]

"Not personally, Miss Welkie, but surely he won't neglect his ownchild's future?"

"I'm afraid that would not be his way of looking at it. "

"And his way is a fine way, no doubt, Miss Welkie--if a man had onlyhimself to think of. But can, or should, his family--" he paused. 

"His family? Young Greg and I are his family, Mr. Necker, and I'm surewe're not worrying about the future. " Her head bent lower to her sewing, but not too low for Necker to see the little smile, half of humor, halfof something else, hovering on her lips. 

"Because you're too young--and too unselfish. "

This time her head came up and the smile developed into a soft laugh. "No, no, nothing quite so fine as that, nor quite so awfully young. Attwenty-three----"

Necker tried to meet her eyes; but the eyes were not for him, nor forthe boy on the beach this time, nor for the brave war-ships at anchor. Her eyes were for something farther away. Necker, twisting in his chair, could distinguish through the haze the fortification walls on the otherside of the little bay. 

There was another little smile hovering. Necker waited hopefully. She, catching his eye, flushed and returned to her sewing. "We're all veryhappy here, " she added after a moment, and, still flushing, resumed herneedle. 

Presently he pointed his cane at the boy on the beach. "A great deal ofyour brother in him, isn't there?"

"Very much. Our older friends back home say that it is like Greg--thatis, my brother--being born all over. "

"A fine boy, yes, Miss Welkie, and ought to be a great man some day. ButI'll be running along now, Miss Welkie. "

"You won't wait for him? He will be glad to see you, I know. "

"Thank you; but after a man's been out there under that sun all day isno time for a friend to bother him. And I am a friend of your brother's, believe me, Miss Welkie. It is because I am a friend and an admirer ofhis that I'm here. "

"But you will return later?"

"I will, thank you--after he's had time to clean up and eat and smoke, and a chat with his friend, I'll drop in for a little talk, and in thatlittle talk, Miss Welkie, I hope you won't be against me, for I mean itfor his best. So until eight o'clock to-night, Miss Welkie--_adios_. "Necker, swishing his gold-headed cane, strolled leisurely away. 

"I wonder what he wants of Greg, " murmured Marie Welkie. And until hispea-green suit was lost to sight she speculated on his probable errand. 

By and by her eyes, now less speculative, detected the smudge againstthe concrete walls. She took down a pair of glasses from the wall. Itwas the towboat leaving the wharf. The glasses took the place of hersewing, and they were still to her eyes when a sharp "Auntie!" came toher ears. "Tention, auntie! Colors!" warned the voice. Lowering theglasses, Marie came obediently to attention. 

The sun was cutting the edge of the sea. The last level light lay on thelong, slow, swelling waters like a rolling, flaming carpet, and in thatflaming path the gray war-ships bobbed to anchor; and on thequarter-deck of every ship a red-coated band was drawn up, and from thejack-staff of every ship an American ensign was slowly dropping down. The boy stood with his back to her, but Marie knew how his heart wasthumping, and she knew the light that would be on his face. 

"O say! can you see--" came the swelling notes over the gently heavingbay. Marie could feel that young Greg was ready to burst; but she couldnot detect a move, not a quiver, out of him until the last note of thelast bugle had ceased to re-echo. Then he saluted reverently, executedan about-face, and called out excitedly: "Auntie, auntie, there's papanow! Look!"

Marie pretended to see for the first time the towboat which, a hundredyards or so down the beach, was making a landing. "Sure enough, Greg!"

"And somebody else!"

"No; is there?"

"Why, don't you see--godfather, auntie! O papa! Godfather!" He was off. 

When he returned he was clinging on the one hand to a tall, brown, lean-cheeked, and rather slender man of thirty four or five, in dustycorduroy coat and trousers, mud-caked shoes and leggings, khaki shirt, and a hard-looking, low-blocked Panama hat; and on the other hand to aman also sun-tanned, but less tall and not so lean--a muscular, activeman who may have lived the thirty years which Necker ascribed to him, but who surely did not look it now. At sight of Marie Welkie steppingdown from the screened veranda he bounded like sixteen years across thebeach. "Marie Welkie--at last!"

"Andie Balfe!" She took his hands within hers and drew them up in frontof her bosom. The smile which Necker had so wanted to see again wasthere now, and now not to vanish in a moment. Balfe brushed her fingertips with his lips. 

"How far this time, Andie?"

"From half the world around, Marie. "

"And are you glad?"

"And I would come it twice again to see your dear eyes smile. "

"Could eyes be made so dull as not to light to your poetic touch, Andie?" And then, in a low voice, "Wait for the sunset. " She stood uponher toes for her brother's kiss. "Another hard, hot day, Greg?"

"No, no, a fine day, Marie. Pedro"--he motioned to the negro at theirrear--"put Mr. Balfe's suit-case in the corner of the veranda there. That'll be all to-night, except to see that Mr. Balfe's trunks come upfrom the towboat. "

He paused on the veranda steps to get a view of the bay. As he stoodthere in silence, the lively notes of a dozen buglers came sharply tothem. He still held the boy's hand. 

"Mess call, papa?"

"Getting so you know them all, aren't you, Sonnie-Boy? One minute fromnow ten thousand husky lads out there will be doing awful things to thecommissary grub. But look there! Andie, did any of your kings orpresidents ever offer you sights more gorgeous than that to view fromtheir palace walls?"

It was the afterglow of the sunset, a red-and-orange glory fading intothe blue-black velvet of a Caribbean twilight. 

"It's by way of greeting to the far traveller. This may be the lastplace on earth here, Andie, but we warrant our sunsets to be the best onthe market. But let's go inside and make ready to eat. What do you say, Sonnie-Boy?"

"But, papa, you said that when godfather came you would have the LittleMen sing you a song for the steam-engine he sent me from Japan!"

"That's right, I did. But where is it?"

"Right here, papa. " From the veranda corner he picked up a toylocomotive. "Look! _Lightning_, I've named it. "

"A fine name for it, too. Well, let me see. How was it? Oh, yes!Lunch-time to-day it was, and your papa was smoking his cigar andlooking out to sea all by himself. It was very quiet, with all thedonkey-engines stopped and the men eating inside the walls. On the bluffbeyond the fort I was sitting, with my feet hanging over the edge, andthe mango-tree I've told you so often about was shading me from the sun. The wind was blowing just a wee mite, and every time the wind would blowand the tree would wave, a mango would drop into the bay. Plump! itwould go into the ocean below, and every time a mango dropped down aLittle Man in a green coat popped up. "

"All wet, papa?"

"Shiny wet, Sonnie-Boy, and blowing their cheeks out like so manyblub-blubs. "

"What's blub-blubs, papa?"

"A blub-blub is a fat little fish who takes big long gulps deep down inthe ocean and then comes to the top o' the water, and, when he seesanybody watching him, puffs out his cheeks and goes--blub-blub! likethat. "

"Like men sometimes, papa?"

"Just like. Well, by 'n' by there were twelve o' the Little Men in greencoats, and they sat under the mango-tree all in a row and looked at me, and the one at the head o' the row puts up one finger, with his head toone side and his little round eye rolling out at me, and he says: 'DidSonnie-Boy's godfather send him that steam-engine from Japan yet, whatyou told us about? 'Cause if he did, we have a fine pome about it. '

"'Yes, he did send him a fine steam-engine from Japan, ' I said, 'and yougo on and let me hear your pome, and if it's a good pome I'll give youall a fine ripe mango to eat. ' And so they all puffs out their fatlittle cheeks and they begins:

 "'Godfather bought him an engine, red and black, It wabbles slightly and the wheels don't track----'"

"But it don't, papa, 'n' the wheels do track. "

"But that's what they said. 

 "'But Sonnie-Boy felt prouder than England's queen When it puffed real smoke and sure-enough steam. '"

"But it's a king in England, papa. "

"I know, but that's the way the Little Green Men told me. Some thingsthey don't know yet, they're so little. 

 "'He named it Lightning 'cause of its speed, And the 'casional spills he did not heed. All big roads had accidents, people knew-- There was danger sure when the whistle blew. '"

"It's true, 'bout th' accidents, isn't it, papa?"

"Nothing truer. Now, let me see. What else? Oh, yes:

 "'The Lightning Express is coming back, Clear the way there, people, off the track! Or Sonnie-Boy's engine, red and black, Will knock you down and hit you whack!'"

"How's that?"

"That's great, papa. And did they have a band with them?"

"No. No band, but one little six-toed fellow--I 'most forgot him--wasplaying on a hook-a-zoo. That's a sausage-shaped thing, with things likerabbit's ears on it. The music comes out the ears. "

"And what kind of music, papa?"

"Oh, like a jew's-harp something, only being bigger 'twas louder. Zoo-zoo, zoo-zoo-zoo it went. "

"I like those Little Green Men, papa, but where was the Little Blue Mento-day, did they say?"

"Oh, they'd gone to a wedding, the hook-a-zoo player said. "

"They know everything, don't they, papa?"

"M-m-most everything. "

"And will the Little Men tell me things when I'm a big man, papa?"

"If they don't, I won't let 'em have any more mangoes. "

"An' what the bugle men play 'n' what the flags say when they hoiststhem up in the air on the big gun-ships, papa?"

"If you're a good boy, they will. And now what d'y' say if we go in andyou tell Diana your papa wants some hot water out of the kettle. Andwhile you're doing that and auntie and godfather are talking things overto themselves, I'll be laying out my razor and my soap 'n' things allready to shave. There you are, there's the boy!"

 * * * * *

It was after dinner on Welkie's veranda. The two friends had beensmoking for some time in silence. Young Greg had just left with his auntto go to bed. Balfe was thinking what a pity it was the boy's motherhad not lived to see him now. He turned in his chair. "What would you dowithout him, Greg?"

Welkie understood what his friend had in mind. "It would be like thedays having no sunrise. I'd be groping in the dark, and almost no reasonfor me to keep on groping. Splashed in concrete and slaked in lime, fromhead to toe, steaming under that eternal sun, five hundred spiggitiesand not half enough foremen to keep 'em jumping, I find myself saying tomyself, 'What in God's name is the use?' and then I'll see a picture ofhis shining face running to meet me on the beach, and, Andie, it's likethe trade-wind setting in afresh. The men look around to see what I'mwhistling about. But"--Welkie sniffed and stood up--"get it?"

Balfe caught a faint breath, the faintest tang borne upon the wings ofthe gentlest of breezes. 

Welkie went inside. Presently he returned with bottles and glasses. "When a little breeze stirs, as it sometimes does of a hot night here, and there's beer in the ice-box and the ice not all melted, life's 'mostworth living. Try some, Andie--from God's country. And one of thesePorto Ric' cigars. Everybody'll be smoking 'em soon, and then we poorchaps'll have to be paying New York prices for 'em, which means we'llhave to make a new discovery somewhere. "

"Wait, Greg--I almost forgot. " Balfe stepped to his suit-case, took outa box of cigars, and handed it to Welkie. "From Key West. HernandoCabada. When I told him I was going to see you, he sat down and rolledout that boxful, which took him three hours, and gave them to me foryou. 'For my friend, Mis-ter Wel-keey-ay, ' he said. "

"Good old Hernando!" Welkie opened the box. Balfe took one, Welkie tookone; they lit up. 

"Ah-h--" Welkie woofed a great gob of smoke toward the veranda roof. "Andie, you won't have to make any chemical analysis of the ashes ofthese cigars to prove they're good. There is an artist--Hernando--andmore! I used to drop in to see him after a hot day. He would let me rollout a cigar for myself in one of his precious moulds, and we'd sit andtalk of a heap of things. 'Some day, Hernando, ' I'd say, 'along willcome some people and offer you such a price for your name that I reckonyou won't be able to resist. ' 'No, no, my friend, ' he would say. 'For mynam' there shall be only my cigar. I shall mak' the good, finecigar--until I shall die. And for the sam'--one pr-r-ice. ' How'd youcome to run into him, Andie?"

"I'd heard about him and you. I suspected, too, that he could verify afew things about the Construction Company. "

"And did he?"

"He did. And so they have been after you again?"

Welkie nodded. 

"And offering more money than ever?"

Welkie nodded. 

They smoked on. Again Balfe half turned in his chair. "I haven't seenyou, Greg, since the President sent for you from Washington that time. How did you find him?"

"Fine. And I tell you, Andie, it heartened me to think that a man withall he's got to tend to would stop to spend an hour with an obscureengineer. "

"You're not too obscure, Greg. What did he have to say?"

"Oh-h--said he wanted me to do a piece of special work, and he wanted mebecause several people, in whose judgment he had confidence, said I wasthe man for the job. You were one of 'em, Andie, he told me, and I'mthanking you for it. "

"I'm not sure that you ought to thank me, Greg. With that big companyyou would be wealthy in a few years, but the trouble is, Greg, when I'mon the job I'm as bad as you, only in a different and more selfish way. I know only one road then, and once I set out I'd brush aside anythingfor the one thing, Greg. "

"Of course, when it's for the flag. "

"Would you?"

"Could I do anything else?"

"The boy, too?"

"Where would he come into it, Andie?"

"You don't think that your feeling for the lad and your work could everclash?"

"How could they ever clash, Andie?"

"I don't know, Greg. I hope not. " He relit his neglected cigar. "Butwhat else did the President have to say?"

"He said it was a bit of emergency work he wanted me for, that only theremnant of a small appropriation was available for it, and that if Itook it I would be pitiably paid; but that he wished me to do it, because some day, and that not too far away, it might have to stand thetest not of friends, but of enemies. Also he said--let me see----"

"That for foreign policy's sake it would have to be done quietly, without advertising, as a bit of departmental work?"

"That's it. "

"And that you would get no great reputation out of it, that your veryreport would remain a supplementary paper buried in departmentalfiles?"

"That was it. "

"Did it strike you that the conditions were hard, Greg?"

"Not after he explained things. And so when the Construction people saidto me later: 'You're crazy, man! Look the two propositions in the eye!'I said: 'I've looked one of 'em at least in the eye and I'm passing theother up--and the other is yours. '"

"Lord, Greg! whether you're the best or the worst concrete man in theworld is a small matter--you're a great man. And if some day--" Balfelet his front chair-legs come down bang and bounded to his feet. 

"Greg"--it was Marie who had returned--"I don't know how I ever forgot, but I never thought till a moment ago--there was a Mr. Necker here tosee you this evening. "

"Well, you don't often forget, Marie. Must be the sight of thosebattle-ships. Necker? I don't know any Necker. You know him, Andie?"

"I was trying to guess coming over on the boat. I was still guessingwhen he got off. I could guess, Greg, who he is, but it would be only aguess. "

"He didn't leave any message, Marie?"

"None, except to say that he would call again at eight. He seemed toknow something of you and to be friendly. "

"He must be a friendly soul to come to this place to see anybody. Well, when he comes we'll know. How'd you leave Sonnie-Boy?"

"He's waiting for you to say good night. "

"I'll go up to him. " He went inside. 

Marie picked up her ensign. Balfe placed a chair for her at the littlework-table, and himself took the chair on the other side of the table. 

"A great joy for you, also--young Greg, Marie?"

"If you could hold him and feel his little heart against yours when he'ssaying 'Good night, auntie, ' after he's said his prayers! His prayersand the 'Star-Spangled Banner' are his great set pieces. "

"And between you and Greg it's safe to say he's got bothletter-perfect. "

"And spirit-perfect, we're hoping. But I must get on with this ensignfor him. "

"Pretty good size, isn't it, for a toy ship?"

"But it's a battle-flag. He'll have none but battle-flags. There, I'm upto the stars. "

"You're never far from them. Let me make a stretching-frame of myfingers and square this end. "

"Do. Not quite so tight. And now--those new States come in so fast!--howmany now?"

"Forty-six. "

"M-m--four eights and two sevens?"

"Four eights and two sevens. "

She sewed rapidly, and without looking up, until she had completed thefirst row. "There--there's one of the eights. Now you can breathe again, Andie. "

Balfe sat back. "What did you make of Mr. Necker, Marie?"

She, too, sat back. "I wonder what I did make of him. He was verycurious about you. "

"That's interesting. "

"Yes. He asked questions and I couldn't quite fib to him, and yet Icouldn't see why he should expect me to tell him all about you. Andso"--she paused and the little half-smile was hovering around again. 

"And so?"

"And so I did not attempt to check his imagination. " She repeated theconversation of the afternoon. "I meant to speak of it at dinner, Andie, to you and Greg, but I forgot. "

"Here's a far traveller--" He paused. She looked up, and quickly lookeddown. 

"--who gives thanks that you forgot, Marie, in that first glad hour, Mr. Necker and his--well, his possible mission. "

"You know something of him, then, Andie?"

"I'm still guessing. But I'm wondering now if you said to yourself whenhe had gone: 'After all, what will Greg get out of this government work?Is it fair to himself to refuse those great offers and stick down here?And what will it mean to young Greg?'"

Marie Welkie let the ensign drop onto the table. "My very thoughts inwords, Andie. And while we're speaking of it, will Greg ever get therecognition due him, Andie?"

"Surely--some day. "

"Dear me, that some day! After he is dead, I suppose. You men are theidealists! But being only a woman, Andie Balfe, I don't want to waitthat long to see my brother rewarded. "

"And being only a man, Marie Welkie, I also want to see my friendrewarded before he's laid away. "

"But will he ever?"

"Who could answer that? But I stopped off in Washington on my way, Marie, and had a long talk with a man who is fine enough to appreciatethe dreams of idealists and yet sufficiently human to allow for mosthuman weaknesses. We discussed Greg and his work. The Constructionpeople were mentioned. He asked me if I thought Greg would go with them. 'And if he does, Mr. President, can be he blamed?' was my answer. "

"And how did he take it?"

"He leaned back in his chair and looked through his glasses with hiseyebrows drawn together, in that way you'd think he was scowling if youdidn't know him. After a moment he said: 'I should be sorry, but if hedoes, no professional or legal--no, nor moral--obligations can holdhim. '"

"There! Greg does not even get credit for----"

"Wait. 'But will he?' he continued. I said that I did not think so. 'What makes you think he won't?' 'Because I know him, sir. But, ' I wenton, 'don't you think, Mr. President, that by this time he should have aword of encouragement or appreciation?' And that led to quite a talk. "

"About Greg, Andie?"

"Greg and his work, Marie. "

She leaned her elbows on the table and from between her palms smiledacross at him. "When you use that tone, Andie, I know that all womenshould stay silent. But could--couldn't a little sister to the man inthe case be given just a little hint?"

"To the little sister--Oh, much! To her I can say that I have reason tothink that something is on its way to her brother which will be verypleasing to her and to him. "

"For which, my lord, thy servant thanks thee. "

Eight bells echoed from the fleet. "Eight o'clock, and somebody walkingthe beach! It couldn't be, Andie--it couldn't be that Mr. Necker----"

Balfe gravely shook his head. 

"But, Andie, " she whispered, "there was the most friendly expression inhis eye!"

"If there's a living man, Marie"--he bent over also to whisper--"whocould hold speech with you for ten seconds without a friendly gleam--" Aknock on the veranda door interrupted. 

It was Necker. "How do you do again, Miss Welkie?" To her his bow wasappreciative, deferential. To Balfe he nodded in a not unfriendlyfashion. 

"I'm glad to see you again, Mr. Necker. Come in, please. I will call mybrother. " She pressed a button on the veranda wall. "That will bring himright down, Mr. Necker. And now I'm leaving you with Mr. Balfe. Diana, our cook's little boy has a fever----"

"Fever, Marie?"

"Oh, don't worry, Andie, if you're thinking of danger. It's onlymalaria. And it's only a step or two, and you must stay with Mr. Necker. "

Balfe held the door open for her. She paused in the doorway. "I'll beback in half an hour. "

"Half an hour! Time is no bounding youth, Marie Welkie. "

"Come for me, then--Oh, when you please, " she whispered, and passedswiftly out. 

 * * * * *

Necker was examining the shelf of books above the work-table. "Keats?Keats? Oh-h, poetry! Montaigne. Montaigne? Oh, yes!" He took it down. "H-m, in French!" and put it back. One after the other he read thetitles. "Elizabethan Verse. E-u-r-i-p-i-d-e-s. Dante. H-m. "

Balfe by now had turned from the screen door. Necker pointed to theshelf. "Not a book for a practical man in the whole lot, and"--he heldup the ensign--"this! Isn't that the dreamer through and through?"

"But you and I, not being dreamers, consider how thankful we should be. "

Necker stared in surprise, and then he smiled. "Now, now, I'm meaning noharm to your friend. I guess you don't know what I'm after, though I'llbet I can guess what you're after. "

Balfe, fairly meeting Necker's eye, had to smile; and when Necker sawBalfe smile he winked. "You don't s'pose you could come down here tothis God-forsaken hole, do you, without somebody getting curious?"

"I suppose it was too much to expect. Have a smoke?"

"Thanks. " Necker's tone was polite, but it was a most negligent glancethat he gave the box of cigars. There was no name on the box. Balfe, with unsmiling mien, pointed out two small letters on the cover. "$1. $2. Mr. Necker. "

"$1. $2. "

"Hernando Cabada, Key West. "

"O-ho! How'd you ever manage to get hold of a box of them?"

"They're Welkie's. "

"How can he afford 'em? I offered old Cabada a dollar, a dollar and ahalf, and finally two dollars apiece for a thousand of 'em, comingthrough Key West the other day--and couldn't get 'em. Nor could all thepull I had in the place get 'em for me. He wasn't going to make any morethat week, he said. He's a queer one. He's got all those Socialist chapsgoing the other way. For why should he work four, five, six hours a day, he said, when he could make all he wanted in one or two? Sells cigars topeople he likes for fifteen dollars a hundred, but wouldn't sell to meat any price. I had to take my hat off to him--he stuck. Now, how do youdope a chap like that?"

"How do you?"

"Don't know the real values in life. Maybe a bit soft up top, besides. "He lit up and drew several deep inhalations. "M-m--this is a smoke for aman!" He picked up the box gently. "If I thought Welkie'd take it, I'doffer more than a good price for the rest of that box. But"--suspicionwas growing in his eyes--"how does it happen--d'y' s'pose somebody'sbeen here ahead of me after all?"

"He's coming down-stairs now--ask him, " smiled Balfe. 

Welkie stepped into the veranda. "I was in my workroom when the buzzertold me you had come in, Mr. Necker, but on the way down I couldn't helplooking in on young Greg. I'm glad to see you. "

"I'm glad to meet you, Mr. Welkie. And to get right down to business, I'm the new president of the Gulf Construction Company, and I want totalk a few things over with you. "

"Surely. "

"Greg"--Balfe had opened the door--"how far up the beach to your cook'sshack?"

"Oh, for Marie? A hundred yards that side. "

"I'll look in there. Good night, Mr. Necker. "

"Don't hurry away on my account, Mr. Balfe. I'd like you, or any friendof Mr. Welkie and his family, to hear what I have to say. It's astraight open-and-shut proposition I've got. "

"Then we'll try to be back to hear some of it. Good-by for a while, then. " The door closed behind him. 

"Let's sit down, Mr. Necker. "

"Thanks. And how did you leave that boy of yours?"

"In his little bed, with his pillow jammed up close to hiswindow-screen, singing the 'Star-Spangled Banner' to himself and lookingout on the lights of the fleet. He's afraid they'll steam away beforehe's seen his fill of them, and to-night he's not going to sleep till hehears taps, he says. "

"It must be a great thing to have a boy like him, and to plan for hisfuture and to look forward to what he'll be when he's grown up. "

Welkie looked his interrogation. 

"Surely, Welkie. A boy of brains he'll be. I don't have to look at a manor a boy twice. Brains and will power. You could make a great career forhim, Welkie--a great engineer, say, if he was started right. But, ofcourse, you'll be in a position by and by to see that he gets thestart. "

"Started right? What does he want when he has health and brains and aheart?"

"All fine, but he'll need more than that these days. "

"Are these days so different?"

"Different, man! Why, the older a country is, the more civilized it is, the more education means, the more social position counts, the moremoney counts. "

"How much more?"

"A heap more. Listen. Your father on twenty-five hundred a year, say, could put his children through college, couldn't he? On twenty-fivehundred a year to-day a man with a family has to battle to keep out ofthe tenement districts. A dozen years from now, if you're getting nomore money than you're getting now, you'll be wondering if you won'thave to take that boy out of school and put him to work. Isn't that so?"

Welkie made no answer. 

"All right. But before I go any farther, let me say that I want you, Mr. Welkie, for our new job. "

"What's wrong with the man you've got?"

"He won't do. You're the one man we want, and if there's money enough inour strong box, we're going to get you. And now that I've got that off, let me show you where it is for your higher--I say your higher, notalone your moneyed--interests to come with us, Mr. Welkie. There's thatboy of yours--you'd surely like to see him a great man?"

"I surely wouldn't dislike it. "

"Good. Then give him a chance. Get rid first of the notion that a poorboy has as good a chance as another. He hasn't. I know that all our oldschool-books told us different--along with some other queer things. Nowonder. Nine times out of ten they were got up by men born poor andintended for children born poor. It is a fine old myth in this countrythat only the poor boy ever gets anywhere. As a matter of fact, the poorboys outnumber the comfortably born boys ten to one, yet run behind inactual success. Even history'll tell you that. Alexander--son of a king. C�sar? Frederick the Great? Oh, loads of 'em! You don't seem to thinkmuch of that?"

"Not a great deal, " smiled Welkie. "If you're going to call the longroll of history, it looks to me like it's a mistake to name only three, or twenty-three, or thirty-three men. You cast your eye along thatlittle book-shelf there and----"

"Oh, I've been looking them over--Dante and Michael Angelo and Homer andShakespeare and that knight-errant Spaniard and the rest of 'em. But I'mnot talking of poets and philosophers and the like. I'm talking of themen who bossed the job when they were alive. "

"But how about those who bossed it after they were dead?"

"But, damn it, Welkie, I'm talking of men of action. "

"Men of action or--ditch-diggers?"

"What!"

"That's what I call most of 'em, Necker--ditch-diggers. If your man ofaction hasn't himself thought out what he's doing, that's what he lookslike to me--a ditch-digger, or at best a foreman of ditch-diggers. And aditch-digger, a good ditch-digger, ought to be respected--until hethinks he's the whole works. Those kings of yours may have bossed theworld, Necker, but, so long's we're arguing it, who bossed them?"

"You mean that the man who bosses the world for thirty or forty yearsisn't quite a man?"

"Surely he's quite a man; but the man who bosses men's minds a thousandyears after he's dead--he's the real one. And that kind of a man, sofar's I know things, Necker, never lived too comfortably on earth. Hecan't. I tell you, Necker, you can't be born into a fat life withoutbeing born into a fat soul, too. "

"You're not stinting yourself in the expectation of running things afteryou're dead, Welkie?"

Welkie noted the half-ironical smile, but he answered simply, evenly:"It's not in me; but I'd live even a sparer life than I do, if I thoughtanybody after me had a chance. "

"You're a hard man to argue with, Welkie, and I'm not going to arguewith you--not on things dead and gone. You're too well posted for me. But suppose it was that way once, is it that way to-day? I'll bring itright home to you. Here's the overpowering figure in public life, Roosevelt, a man you think a lot of probably--was he born in poverty?"

"No, but I notice he cut away from his comfortable quarters about assoon as his upbringing'd let him. "

"Wait. In finance who? Morgan? All right. Son of a millionairefinancier, wasn't he?"

"But if you're going to bring in money----"

"I know. What of the Carnegies and the Rockefellers? you're going tosay. There's where you think you've got me, but you haven't; for I'vealways said that being born in poverty fits a man to make money aboveall things, because he's brought up to value it out of all proportion toeverything else. But where are they after they get it? America's full ofmillionaires who came up out of nothing, but who had to work so hardgetting started that they'd nothing left in 'em or didn't know anythingbut money when they got to where they could stop to look around. If theyhad any genius to start with, it was dried out of 'em trying to getgoing. Hitch any two-mile trotter to an ice-wagon and where will hefinish? You overweight your boy going off and he will be handicappedout of the race, too. But can I have another one of those cigars?"

"Help yourself. "

"Thanks. I wish I had your pull with old Cabada. Now, Welkie, I'm onlytrying to show you where you ought to cast aside certain outworntraditions and face actual present-day truths. Now listen. You probablydon't believe I'm a villain, Welkie, and you know I represent a powerfulcorporation--reputable even if powerful. Yes. Well, this work of ours isgood, useful work--don't you think we can fairly claim that?"

"Beautiful work--beautiful. "

"Good. Then wouldn't you like to see that work growing under yourhand--ten thousand men driving night and day, and that concretestructure reaching out, as you've planned it, in long white stretches tothe sea?"

"It's certainly a fine prospect. "

"Then why not do it? What's the use, Welkie? You're the best man in thecountry for us and we're the best concern for you. We offer you thebiggest job in sight. What d'y' say? You've been turning us down, butthink it over now. "

Welkie shook his head. 

"Why not?"

"Because--but they are coming back. "

Necker could see the hands of Balfe and Miss Welkie unclasping in thehalf-darkness as they entered. He touched Welkie on the arm. "Why nottell Miss Welkie and Mr. Balfe what it is I'm after?"

"But I'm doing work here that I've got to finish, and they know that. "

"I know you are, but consider this. What does the government pay youhere, Welkie? I probably know, but no matter. "

"Two hundred a month and this house. "

"And I'm offering you two thousand! And--listen to this, please, MissWelkie. In place of a mosquito-infested shoe-box of a shack in aGod-forsaken hole, we'll give you and your brother a fine concrete houseon a breezy hill in God's own country--a real home, Miss Welkie, withgreat halls and wide verandas and sun-lighted rooms through which thesea breezes will blow at night so you can sleep in peace. A mansion, Miss Welkie, with reception and music rooms, where you can receive yourfriends in the style a lady should, or a man of your brother's abilityshould. A place to be proud of, Miss Welkie--palm-studded, clean-clippedlawn rolling down to the sea. And a sea--I'll bet you know it, Mr. Balfe--a blue-and-green sea rolling down over to coral reefs as white asdogs' teeth, a shore-front that needs only building up to be as prettyas anything in your swell Mediterranean places. What d'y' say, Welkie?And here's the contract now, all ready for you, and pay begins to-day. "

"It's alluring, it surely is. But I must finish here. "

"But you'll soon be done here. A few weeks more, they told me inWashington. What are you going to do then?"

"I hadn't thought. "

"Well, why not think of it now? Consider your boy, what it will mean tohim some day. Why not ask Miss Welkie?"

Welkie turned gravely to his sister. "What do you say to that fine housewith the grand dining-room, and the music-room, and a jasmine-twinedpergola to sit out under of a night--and watch the moon roll up from theshining sea? I know the house--it's all that Mr. Necker says it is. "

"And mahogany, and all kinds of beautiful linen for the table, MissWelkie. Imagine that, with cut glass and silver and the electric candlesgleaming over it of a night. "

"I would dearly love to preside at the head of that table, Mr. Necker, but Mr. Balfe was speaking of something that perhaps my brother shouldhear about first. "

"What's that, Andie?"

"Let it wait, Greg. "

"Better now. What is it?"

"You may not like it. "

"Maybe not, but we may as well have it now, Andie. "

"I was to tell you that after this work is done there's another jobwaiting you on the west coast, just as important, just as needful ofyour supervision, and no more reward to it than this. "

"Whee-eu!" whistled Necker. "The steamer captain had him right. "

"Then I'm afraid"--Welkie turned to Necker--"it's off between us. "

"Don't say that yet. Wait till you hear. What are you working for?Leaving the money end out of it, which I know you don't care for andnever will care for, what are you getting? You want recognition? Andprestige? Do you get them? Not a bit. Who really knows of this work? Afew engineers who keep tabs on everything, yes. Who else? Nobody. Thegovernment, for good reasons of their own, don't want it mentioned inthe press. Why, it's hardly mentioned in the engineering journals. "

"Even so. It will go down in the records that I did it. "

"Will it? Look here. I've been waiting for that. " From his insidecoat-pocket Necker drew out several typewritten sheets. "Mind you, Ididn't want to produce this, but I'm forced to. My first interests aremy company's. There is a copy of the last official report on this work. Read what that says. The credit is given, you see, to who? To you? No, no. Not a mention of you except as a civilian engineer who assisted. "

"But how did you get hold of this?" Welkie held the papers, but withoutshowing any inclination to read them. 

"Does how I got hold of it matter?"

"That's right, it doesn't matter. "

Welkie offered the papers to Balfe. 

Balfe waved them back. "I saw the original of that report in Washington. What Mr. Necker says is so. "

"There!" Necker brought his fist down on the table. "The man of allothers to bear me out. " He stepped close to Balfe. "I couldn't place youfor a while. Thanks for that. "

"Don't hurry your credit slip, " snapped Balfe, with his eyes on Welkie. 

Welkie silently passed the papers back to Necker. 

"You believe me now, Mr. Welkie?"

"I don't know's I doubted you, Mr. Necker. It caught me just a mitebelow the belt, and I had to spar for wind. "

"But it wasn't I who hit you below the belt, remember. Neither did Iwant to destroy your illusions, but I did want to show you thefacts--the truth, not the glittering romance, of life. Now they'reoffering you another job. Will you, or somebody else, get the credit forthat? You? No, sir! You'll get neither money nor reputation out of it. With us you'd get both. "

"Probably that's so. " Welkie spoke slowly. "But people in general willcredit me with loyalty at least. "

"Will they? Even where they know of your work, will they? When a manturns down an offer like ours, people in general will give him creditfor little besides simple innocence. I'm telling you they'll be morelikely to think you are controlled by some queer primitive instinctwhich will not allow you to properly value things. I'll leave it to yourfriend. What do you say to that, Mr. Balfe?"

"I think you're a good deal right. "

"There! Your own friend agrees with me!" exclaimed Necker. 

"You don't think that, Andie?" Welkie, puzzled, stared at Balfe. 

"What I mean, Greg, and what Mr. Necker very well understands me tomean, is that surely there are hordes of people who never will believethat any man did anything without a selfish motive. "

"That don't seem right, Andie. "

"No, it doesn't, but it's so, Greg. But"--he set his jaw atNecker--"what if they do think so? Let them. Let them ride hogbackthrough the mud if they will. Oceans of other people, oceans, will stillbe looking up to men like Greg Welkie here. " He rested his hand on hisfriend's shoulder. "You stick to your aeroplaning in the high air, Greg. "

"And chance a fall?" suggested Necker. 

"And chance a fall!" snapped Balfe. "But there are no falls if themachine is built right and the aviator forgets the applause. "

Marie Welkie's hand reached out and pressed one of Balfe's. He held it. "It's all right--he's a rock, " he whispered. 

"I must say, Welkie"--Necker fixed his eyes on the floor and spokeslowly--"that the government in this case seems to be represented by aman of picturesque speech, a man with imagination. I can only handlefacts, and in a matter-of-fact way. I ask you to consider this: you havea boy, and there is Miss Welkie, a lovely, cultured woman, and"--hejerked his head suddenly up--"but what's the use? Here's a contract, needing only your signature, and here's a check, needing only mysignature. I said two thousand a month. Suppose we make it three? Here'spen and ink, and remember your boy is looking out on the battle-shipsfrom his little bed up-stairs. "

"You're right, Necker, he is in his little bed up-stairs and I've got tothink of him. " He turned to Balfe. "The President, Andie, just naturallyexpects me to tackle this new job?"

"I think he does, Greg. "

"Then there's only one answer left, Mr. Necker. No. "

"Wait again. Welkie, you've a God-given genius for concrete work. I camehere to get you and I--sign now and I'll make it four thousand. "

"No. "

"No? Why, look here! Here's a check. See--I'm signing it in blank. I'mleaving it to you to fill it in for what you please. For what you pleasefor your first year for us, and the contract to run five years at thesame rate. Remember you've been trimmed once and you're likely to betrimmed again. "

"Let them trim me and keep on trimming me! The work is here and I didit. They know it and I know it. If nobody but myself and my God know, weknow. And no official or unofficial crookedness can wipe it out. "

"But that little fellow up-stairs with his face against the screen?"

"It's that little fellow I'm thinking of. He'll never have to explainwhy his father reneged on a job he was trusted to do. "

"But you haven't promised anybody in writing?"

"No. "

"And, as I make it out, you haven't even given your word?"

"No. "

"Then what right has anybody to----"

"He don't need to have any _right_. He just thinks I'm the kind of a manhe can count on, and, in a show down, that's the kind of a man I reckonI want him or any other man to think I am. "

"Then it is finally no?"

"No. "

"No?"

"No. And let that be the end of the noes. "

Necker smoked thoughtfully. Then, slowly gathering up his papers, hesaid: "I'm licked, Welkie; but I would like to know what licked me. Itmight save me from making the same mistake again. "

"Why, I don't know's I know what you mean; but there is one thing, Necker: if it ever happens that a nation which don't like us comessteaming up here to get hold of this base, to batter it to pieces, say, she won't. No. And why? Because it's no haphazard mixture of water andsand. It's a good job, and if I'm no more than a lump of clay in mygrave, I want to be able to roll over and say"--a flame seemed to shootfrom his eyes--"'You sons o' guns, you can't get in, because what you'vecome to take was built right, and 'twas me built it, by God!'"

Necker studied him. "Well, if that isn't throwing a halo around yourwork, I don't know what is. I've met that before, too. But you've gotmore than that--what is it?"

"If I have, I don't know it. " He paused. 

"I know, " whispered Marie in Balfe's ear--her eyes turned to the ensignon the table. 

"But if there's anything else there, it must've been born in me, and sothat's no credit. But if there is anything else there, I want my boy tohave it, too. "

Necker picked up his hat and cane. "He'll have it, never fear, Welkie, and the more surely because he won't know it either. I'm off. Do youmind if I take another of Cabada's cigars?"

"Surely. Help yourself. Fill your case. "

"Thanks. " He lit up. "These _are_ a smoke. I wish he'd let me have some, but he's like you something--he's only to be got at from the inside, and I guess I'm not on the inside. Good-by, Welkie. I hope you get yourreward some day, though I doubt it. Good-by, Mr. Balfe. You're the firstof your kind I ever met. You fooled me, but I'll be ready for you nexttime. Good-by, Miss Welkie. I forgot to say"--he smiled slyly--"therewas a sixty-horse-power French car and a fifty-foot motor-launch wentwith that house. Good-by. "

The pebbly beach crunched under Necker's receding feet. "Dear me, "sighed Marie, "don't you feel half sorry for him, Andie?"

"Just about half. I'll bet he plays a good game of poker. But, Greg--"Balfe drew a square white envelope from an inner coat-pocket--"I wasgiven a letter the other day to give you--in case you were still on thejob here. "

"On the job? Where else could I be?" He had taken the envelope and wasabout to rip it carelessly open, when his eye caught the embossed bluelettering on the corner:

WHITE HOUSE

He held it up in bewilderment. "Not from the President, Andie?"

"Why not? Read it. "

Slowly Welkie read it. He took it over to the light at the little tableand read it again. He dropped it on the table and gazed through thescreen at the lights of the fleet. After a time he said in a low tone:"I must tell Sonnie-Boy, " and, turning, went inside the house. 

"Is it very private, Andie?" whispered Marie. 

"No, no. "

"Then I'm going to read it. "

She read it. "Why, Andie!" she gasped, and, crowding to the light, shealso read it again. Her face was alight when she looked up at last. "Andie, Andie, isn't it splendid! If Mr. Necker could only hear this:

"'It is a fine thing in these days of materialism that a man of yourgenius can set aside the allurements of money and fame, and exileyourself to a region where certain hardship and probable disease awaityou; and this only that your country may be served. ' And the rest of it!O Greg!"

Welkie was back with his boy in his arms. He took the letter from hissister. "Look here, Sonnie-Boy, what do you think? Here's a man saysyour papa is the greatest man ever was in his line. Years from nowyou'll look at that letter and perhaps you'll be proud of your papa. Your papa's boasting now, Sonnie-Boy, but only you and your auntie andgodfather can hear him, and they'll never tell. So that's all right. 'Our papa was as good as anybody in his line'--a great man said so. What do you say, little five-and-a-half, you'll be a good man, too, inyour line some day, won't you?"

"Can I be a fighter, papa, on a big gun-ship?"

"Well, if you're bound to go that way, I don't see who's to stop you, Sonnie-Boy. But if you are, whether it's a sword to your belt or alanyard to your neck, here's hoping you'll never go over the side ofyour ship without"--he picked the ensign up--"you leave your colorsflying over her. And now we'll go back to bed, Sonnie-Boy, and this timewe'll go to sleep. " In the doorway he stopped. "What do you reckonNecker would say to that letter, Andie?"

Balfe smiled. "He'd probably say, 'Welkie, you ought to publish thatletter--capitalize it, ' and think you were four kinds of a fool if youdidn't. "

"Well, I won't publish it or capitalize it. I'm going to frame it andhang it at the foot of your bed, Sonnie-Boy, where you'll see itmornings when you wake. Up we go, son. "

Facing each other across the little work-table were Marie Welkie andAndie Balfe. She had said: "You surely have been my brother's friend, and, if you were not already so successful, I could wish a great rewardfor you. "

He laid one hand of his gently down on hers. "Wish the reward, then, Marie. Do, dear, wish it, for I'm not successful. I played hard at mygame, because playing it made me forget other things. Almost anybodyplaying a game long enough becomes half-expert at it. But successful?No, no, dear. So far I seem to have travelled only unending roadsthrough bleak countries; and I'm dreading to go back to them alone. "

Beyond the veranda screen the fireflies were flashing; farther out, thelittle green and red side-lights of the steaming launches, like othercolored fireflies, were sliding by; to the mastheads of the battle-shipsthe red and white signal-lights were winking and glowing. The night wasalive with colorful things. Closing her eyes, Marie could hear thelapping of little waves over pebbles, the challenging hail of a sailoron watch, the music of a far ship's band. She bent her head to hear itbetter--the sweetly faint cadence of that far-away band. 

"And when was it you began to think of me, Andie?"

"Since those first days, Marie, when your brother and I bunked togetherin the old S. $1. $2. Construction camp. He used to read me letters ofyours from home. You were only a little girl then, and it was yearsbefore I saw you; but I knew what you looked like even before I stoleyour photograph----"

"Stole?"

"I did. Greg dropped it one day. I found it and never gave it back. There it is--after nine years. "

She laughed when she saw it. "Why, I can't make out to see what I lookedlike then, Andie!"

"I know what you looked like. I've kissed the face away, dear, but Iknow. In nine years, Marie, I never shifted from one coat to anotherwithout shifting your photograph, too. If anything had happened to me, they would have found your photograph on me, with your address on theback. 'Then, ' I used to say to myself, 'she'll know. And Greg won't mindmy stealing it. '" He laid it face up between them on the table. "Themiles you've travelled with me, dear heart, and never knew! Back in thedays of the construction camp they used to find sketches of a girl'shead in my note-books, a beautiful head badly done--drawn from thatphotograph. But after I met you----"

"And after you met me, Andie?"

"Then I needed no photograph, though look and look at it I surely did. Steamers in western seas, battle-ships in eastern waters, balustrades ofpalaces--wherever it might be I was whirling with this old eartharound, I've had your face to look at. And when I couldn't see for thedarkness--rolled up in my rubber poncho, in no more romantic a placethan the muck of a swamp, I've looked up through the swayingbranches--or in the lee of a windy hill, it might be, with no more tohinder than the clear air, I've looked up and marked your face in theswirling clouds: your nose, your chin, the lips so shyly smiling. And ifthrough the clouds a pair of stars would break, I'd mark them for yourshining eyes, Marie. "

"Poetry again, Andie!" She was laughing, but also she was melting underhis eyes. 

"If that's poetry, then I'm losing respect for it. It's a weak thing, Marie, and----"

"Sh-h--if somebody should be walking on the beach!"

"Let them, sweetheart. It's a fine night for a walk. What harm istruth?"

"But I don't want all the world to hear, Andie. For my poor heart wasaching, too, Andie, and now it wants it all to itself, Andie mine. "

 * * * * *

It was taps on the battle-fleet. Over the mellowing, detaining waters ofthe bay the long-drawn bugles echoed. Good night, good ni-i-ght, g-o-o-d-n-i-g-h-t--they said, and gently, softly, whisperingly diedaway. 

"He's asleep at last. " Welkie was standing in the door. "And I don'tknow but we'd all better be getting to sleep, too. For to-morrowmorning, you know, we--Wha-at!"

His friend was standing before him. "Shunt care for the morrow, Greg. Greater things than have happened are happening around you. The dream ofyears has come to pass. And we--we, Greg----"

He looked to her, and tremulous, vivid, she came, and with her at hisside he was himself again. "Marie is to take me for Sonnie-Boy's uncle, and, Greg, we want your blessing. "

TIM RILEY'S TOUCH

"A man outside--says his name's Riley, " announced the youth who guardedthe outer door. "A big husky!" he added when he saw the chairman did notlook pleased. 

The state chairman nodded round the table. "This is that new man thesenator's been talking about. " From a neat pile of letters the chairmanpicked out one. 

"Here is what he sent in the other day. From it you can obtain an ideaof the calibre of the man. Listen: 'As you ask me what I think about thecrowd up here, I'll say that I think they've had their own way so longthey've got to where they figure they don't have to make good. They seemto think that to be in politics is to be trying to fool everybody. Theywould rather--the most of them--get ten votes by faking than a hundredby straightforward work. They don't seem to see that nowadays peopleknow more about the inside of things than they used to--that they'redoing more thinking for themselves in political matters. '

"And"--the chairman reinserted the letter in the neat pile--"there'smore drool of the same kind. I don't believe he ever wrote that letter. As I understand it, he's a coal-heaving sort who ought to have gone intothe prize-ring and not politics; but, whether he wrote it or not, wewill have to humor him because of the senator, who is of course theboss"--he shot a glance round the table--"the boss now. We'll give thisfellow a little rope. A couple of the boys up where he comes from tippedme off about him--and we'll let the senator see him for what he is. I'veseen these wonders before. "

"And I guess you don't have to see too much of a man to be able to sizehim up either!" This from a faithful one on the chairman's right. 

The chairman's lips kneaded shut. "Well, in political life--I don't saythis in a boasting spirit, you understand, gentlemen--if a man in myposition can't size a man up fairly well at a glance he might as wellget out. His letter alone would tell me that he knows it all, and theword I get from the county chairman up his way is that he is one of theturbulent, fighting kind. However, we'll have him in here and look himover. Show him in, George. "

And Riley stepped into the room. From the moment of his entrance not asoul there had a doubt of the chairman's prejudgment; but, that hisless acute associates might judge for themselves, the chairman allowedthe man by his own words to portray himself, which, after all, was themost convincing proof of all. It was the senior senator's own way ofdoing it. 

The new man--an agile, powerful figure--had bowed with a conventionalshow of pleasure to each in turn as he was introduced; but, that overwith, he had faced squarely toward the chairman, waiting. And thechairman began:

"I take it, Mr. Riley, that you are not the kind of man who would standup on a platform and dodge an argument with the most excitable ofopponents?"

"Dodge? What from?"

"Not from the hoots and the jeers, or vegetables--or even thehalf-bricks--eh?"

Riley waved a contemptuous arm. "I'd rather see half bricks coming myway than be looking down on staring empty benches, or benches emptyingswiftly when a man's at the height of his speech. " Riley paused by wayof emphasis. "It is to try a man's soul--a frosty greeting; but, awarm-blooded opposition--that's only to stir a man up. "

The state chairman waited for the new man to leap into the air, knockhis heels together and yell:

"Hurroo!" The new man did not do that. He gazed steadily into the faceof the chairman. However, every specimen could not be expected to meetevery requirement. No doubt of it--here was the made-to-order creaturefor clever manipulation; and there followed then the suggestion to visitNew Ireland, with artful words to whet a fighting man's appetite forthat kind of job. 

"And now for one last little touch before we send the poor boob to hispolitical extinction, " whispered the chairman to his next at hand. Aloudhe said:

"Yes, sir--I believe in frankness, Mr. Riley. And I will tell you nowthat we didn't poll many votes in New Ireland last year. I don't justremember how many--I have mislaid the figures; but I wish to tell youfrankly--frankly, I say--that we did not poll many. What they needthere, I think, is a determined man like yourself to pile into themhammer and tongs. That would be the way, I think. And you show me, Mr. Riley, a fair Republican increase in New Ireland--fifty out of fivehundred, say--and you can lay out your own itinerary for the rest of thecampaign. Now isn't that fair?"

"Why, yes; that seems all right. " As he said it, however, the new man, his eyes ever on the chairman's, had a feeling that it was not allright. And, as he was one of those intuitive ones with whom to feel wasalmost to prove, his attitude changed from the subjective to theobjective. He had not liked this man a bit from the first, and he wasliking him less and less; that finishing "Now isn't that fair?" wassurely not meant for his benefit. 

The new man left the committee-rooms with a disturbed soul, and on hisway to the elevator he began to think things over. Among a dozen otherthings which flashed through his kindling brain he recalled the glint ofwhat now he knew was mockery brightening the pale eyes of the chairmanas the door closed behind him. 

He pressed the button for the elevator; but before the upcoming carreached his floor he decided not to descend. He would have it out. Healmost ran back to the committee-rooms and, brushing by the knowing butinefficient outer guard, made for the room where the leaders were. Already he could hear the laughter--yes, and the roaring at something orother; and as he placed his hand on the knob of the inner door he heard:"He's come here from the other end of the State, with a reputation forburning things up. Let him try to burn up New Ireland--and then go backto where he came from. Why, let his kind come butting in on us and soonwe would all be out of jobs. " The chairman's voice, that was. 

Tim opened the door, and when they looked up and saw him it was as ifthey had all been clutched by the windpipes. 

"Go to the devil--all of you!" exploded the new man. "Do you hear? Everymother's son of you!"

From out the silence some one at last said: "You mean, Mr. Riley, youare going to desert the party?"

Tim whirled on him. 

"No; it doesn't mean I'm going to desert the party. Did ever you know aman who was any good to desert any party or anything, good or bad, underfire?"

"I'm glad to hear that. " The chairman had come to life. "And not alonebecause we would lose you, eloquent though you are reported to be. Somany of our people have maintained that no Irishman----"

"Cut that Irishman stuff! My chance to make a living, and my children'schance after me, I owe to this country. "

"But, Mr. Riley, you are of Irish blood. "

"Irish blood? You may be sure I am, and so proud of it that when I speakof it I slop over; but I'm an American citizen too. However, if youdon't mind, we'll leave that for private discussion and not forpolitical trading. "

The chairman recovered. 

"That's all very well; but when we ask your people to make sacrificesfor the principles of our party----"

"Principles of the party--slush! Save that for your platform speeches. You're in the party because there's more in it for you. I'm in itbecause a man who gave me a square meal when I was starving asked me tojoin it. And, once in a fight, I stick. I stick because I don't know howto do anything else--and I'm going to stick now. And I'm going out nowto New Ireland and talk to them. "

The door behind Tim opened and a smooth, carefully trained voice said:"What's this about New Ireland?"

Tim knew the voice, even before he turned to greet him. It was the tallboss, the real boss, the senior senator, the man who ordered the Statecommittee round even as they ordered the campaign speakers. 

"New Ireland?" the senator repeated. "No, Mr. Riley. I can give yousomething better than that. That would be a waste of time. I'll changethat right now. Here----"

"Excuse me, sir; but I'm going to New Ireland. I don't know what kindof a place it is or what kind they are there, except what the name tellsme, and I don't care--I'm going there. No gang of men ever picked me foran omadhaun in the morning but found out they were mistaken beforenight. And I'll say further"--indignation in Tim always disposed him toclassic periods--"if there are those who wave the green flag to tattersat every Irish meeting, and then betray her to those who hate her, thereare also those who, though they have never made a sacrifice in theirlives for this country, would prevent all but their own little kind frombreathing the free air of it. As for me, I've come to this city to dosomething; and I'll stay here until I've done it. A while ago I agreedto go to New Ireland, and to New Ireland I'm going. Good day!" And thewindows rattled with the banging of the door behind him. 

"A proper bull-headed Irishman, that fellow, " observed the chairmanpresently. 

"Or is it he has convictions and is not afraid to voice them?" Thesenator had a habit of scratching his beard with his finger-nails, andagain of drawing his chin in on his chest and looking over hisgold-rimmed pince-nez. He drew in his chin now, and the chairman did notlike it. He never did. 

"A good fighter, I should say. " The tall boss scratched his beard withhis finger-nails. "An encouraging thing to meet a good fighterin these fat days; but let us see. " He stepped over to where ablue-and-red-spotted map of the State was hanging and laid a finger on ablue spot: "New Ireland, which we can safely call the enemy's bannertown for its size in the United States. If Riley can leave his mark onthat place it will be proof to me that he can make breaches all alongthe line. "

"More likely, I think, that the place will leave its mark on him. Morelikely they will crack his skull, I think. He may love a fight; but NewIreland is full of men who love fighting too--and they are not with us. "

"That's true--they are not. " The boss drew his chin in to his neckagain. "Too bad they are not. Suppose we wait, however, and see howRiley makes out. His reputation is that of a most resourceful man. Andif he does make an impression on New Ireland he can have anything I cangive him in this State. "

II

It is a good place--a moving train--for serious meditation. Tim Rileyallowed the landscape to fly by, the while he considered matters. Heknew the temper of the kind of people with whom he was to battle. Theywere so many more like himself. As for trying to bulldoze or browbeatthem, or--if he was that kind--to bribe a single one, though they werethe hard-working, unsophisticated kind--whisht!--like the wind they'd gothe other way. And as for scaring the tough ones, he might be thestrongest and toughest and scrappiest and quickest lad on his feet thatever was, but out there in that quarrying town would be a dozen ortwenty or fifty just as strong and as quick and as scrappy as himself. And that kind--which was his kind--you might set them up in a row andknock them down one after another, and just as fast as one went downanother would come bouncing up for the honor of the last word. 

New Ireland! Tim viewed a town of two or three hundred small, square-planned wooden houses, with one green-painted house larger thanmost, labelled Kearney's Hotel; another, larger than that again, with asquare cupola, which he knew would be the town hall; and yet one more, largest of all, white-painted, with a surmounting gold cross, which, ofcourse, could only be the chapel. A mile or so beyond the town, on thescarred hillsides, stuck up the derricks of the quarries, which were thetown's reason for being. Beyond the quarries were foot-hills, whichgradually grew up into mountains. It was autumn, and in that high landthe few trees were already bare; before the high wind the bare branchesswayed. 

It was not the most encouraging day of the year. Tim, with a warm fireand a hot meal in view, hurried on to the little hotel. Peter Kearneywas the landlord, a companionable soul, who did not see the need of aregister, and who, after a time, produced a lunch; and who, further, while Tim ate, smoked and gossiped of things a travelling man wouldnaturally be interested in. 

"And what kind have you here in New Ireland? Easy to get along with?"asked Tim, after the discovery of the quarries, the settling of thetown, and the last explosion had been intelligently discussed. 

"To get along with? The finest, easiest ever--of course if a man don'tcross them. "

"I wonder do you think I'll cross them?"

"And what would your business be that you'd be crossing 'em?" thelandlord asked. 

"I'm the Republican campaign speaker that's selected to address themto-night. "

"Oh-h! Well, d'y'know, when I didn't see a sample case with you I had mysuspicions; but when you said--or did you say your name was Riley?"

"I did. And it is. R-i-l-e-y--Riley, Timothy J. And there's any numberof Republicans with names as good. "

"I dare say, but not in New Ireland--nor likely to be while so many ofyour party put us down for a tribe of savages. "

"Have patience, Mr. Kearney. There's a new order of things under way. Have patience. And tell me now how many Republicans should you estimatethere are in New Ireland?"

"Estimate? Sure, and that's a large word for them. There's Grimmer, thecashier and chief clerk o' the savin's-bank. There's Handy, who keepsthe real-estate office. And did ever ye notice, Mr. Riley, how, when aman has a soft-payin', easy-workin' job, 'tis ten to one he's aRepublican?"

"I've spoken of it so often myself, Mr. Kearney, merely by way ofhumorous observation, that my party loyalty has been doubted. If youwould never have your loyalty suspected, Mr. Kearney, you must never leton that you possess intelligence; but have patience and we'll have thatchanged some day--maybe. So those two are the leaders, are they?"

"Leaders, man! That's all of 'em. "

"Two? Two out of nigh five hundred! Well, glory be, what kind are thosetwo? The fighting kind?"

"Har-rdly the fightin' kind, Mr. Riley. They couldn't well be that inNew Ireland, bein' Republican, and remain whole. Har-rdly! No, not ifthey were John L. Sullivans, the pair of 'em. Among five hundredquarrymen, d'y'see, Mr. Riley, and they mostly young men, there's alwaysplenty of what a man might call loose energy lyin' round--speciallyafter hours and Sundays and holidays; surely too much for any two, ortwo dozen, disputatious individuals to contend against. And yet, as Isaid, the easiest, quietest people living here----"

"Yes, yes; I'll bet a leprechaun's leap against a banshee's wail I knowwhat peaceable kind they are. And I think I know now why I was--Nomatter about that though. Could you, Mr. Kearney, get somebody to passthe word to the quarries that the Republican speaker is here accordingto announcement, and that his name is Riley?"

"I'll send me boy. Dinnie!" called the landlord. No answer. "Dinnie!" Noanswer. The landlord opened his lungs and roared: "Dinnie!!" Then helooked out of the dining-room window. "H-m! I thought as much. Look athim peltin' it on his bi-sigh-cle for the quarries! He heard you sayRepublican and 'twas enough. No fear now--not a soul in New Ireland butwill know it before dark. And--but excuse me one minute, Mr. Riley. "

The landlord stood up to greet a forlorn-looking old woman, who, with aman's overcoat wrapped round her, had appeared at the dining-room door. 

"How are you to-day, Mrs. Nolan? About as usual? Well, don't beworryin'. Yes, you'll find Delia in the kitchen. Go in. "

Tim nodded after the old woman as she went in. 

"And who is she, Mr. Kearney?"

"A poor old creature who comes here once or twice in the week to have acup o' tea and maybe a little to go with it, with the cook. A poor oldsoul dependin' on charity, and yet she won't take it from every one. "

"Poor woman! Will you give her that?--not now, but when she goes out, Mr. Kearney. " He slipped a silver dollar into the landlord's hand. "Noneed to tell her where it came from. I'll be going along now, I think, to have a look at the town. I'll be back for supper. "

"Good luck to you!"

Tim had not left the hotel a hundred yards behind him when he met aCatholic priest. 

"Good afternoon, Father, " said Tim, and raised his hat. 

"Good afternoon, sir. And is it"--the cane was shifted from the righthand to the left, and the hand thus freed extended to Tim--"Mr. Riley--isn't it?"

"It is; but how did you know, Father?"

"Oh, if Peter Kearney's long-legged Dinnie hasn't told half the quarriesbefore this of your name and business 'twill be because he's burst atire or broke his neck rolling down the steep hills. And so you're tospeak to us to-night?"

"God willing, I am. "

"And you're not discouraged?"

"And why should I be discouraged?"

"Why? You must be a stranger to these parts. "

"I am. "

"And no one told you of what happened to the last man your party senthere?"

"They did not. And what happened?"

"He was rode out of town on a rail. "

"Well, well, Father. And what did he do, the poor man?"

"Oh, he only hinted at first that we were a lot of ignorant foreignerswho were Democrats because we didn't know any better; but he warmed upas he went along. I don't know wherever they got him from. In the middleof it Buck Malone gave them what they call his high sign--his rightforefinger raised so--and every man in the hall got up and walked out. A few of them came back later and took him off. They didn't hurt him--nobones broken or anything like that; but they do say he never waited forthe train when they turned him loose, but legged the thirty miles backto the city without a single stop!"

"He did? Well, it's fine exercise, Father--running; though thirty milesin one bite, to be sure, is a bit too much for good digestion, I'd say. This Buck Malone--he's the boss here, Father?"

"He is. And a famous one for surprising folks. "

"Thank you for the information, Father. "

"It's no information. The very babies here know of the last man here. Ifyou see the children in the street smiling slylike when you pass, thatwill be why. "

Tim pulled his lower lip with thumb and forefinger. 

"And yet they'd laugh all the louder if I was to go away withoutspeaking, Father. What kind is Buck Malone to look at and where does hehang out?"

The priest poked the end of his cane at Tim's chest. 

"Is it fighting you'd be at, Mr. Riley?"

"It is not. I'm not for fighting--unless, of course, I have to. Isn't itonly natural to want to know what kind your opponent is?"

"So it is--so it is. Well, then, about this time o' day you'll find himin that cigar-store with the sign out--below there. He's a contractorhimself, who furnishes labor for the quarries. A man about your heightand breadth he'll be, but a trifle fuller in the waist. A stout, strongman, and not many able to look him down. An eye in his head, has Buck! Iwouldn't want to see the pair of ye at it. "

"Thank you, Father. And look--d'y'see that old woman coming out of thehotel? What's her story, Father?"

"The widow Nolan. A sad history, Mr. Riley, if you could get it out ofher; but it's few she'll talk to. "

"Poor woman! Would you give her this--a couple of dollars--Father, afterI'm gone?"

"I will. And it's good of you. And you're bound to speak to-night?"

"I'll speak. And I'd like you to come, Father. "

"Not I, Mr. Riley. Priests are better out of politics. Good day and Godspeed you!"

Tim strolled toward the cigar-store; and drawing near he picked out, standing near the glass case, a tall, powerfully built man, withintelligently heavy features and the unwavering eyes of a fighting man. As Tim entered this man was speaking. Before ten words had been said, Tim knew that his entrance had been forecasted and that this was BuckMalone. 

"And he'll be up there on that platform all alone--not a soul with him, because these two dubs that ought to be standing by him, they've gotcold feet already. And he'll be up there all alone, except for a pitcherof cold water and a glass, and a table and a chair; and he'll begin tospout. I dunno whether he c'n talk or not; but we'll let him run on formaybe ten minutes, and about the time he thinks he's making a hit I'llstart up and I'll raise my forefinger like that--see? And that'll meaneverybody get up and go out. No hurry, mind you--nor no hustlin'; buteverybody just stand up and walk out and leave him talkin' to thatpicture o' that dago, or whoever he is, discoverin' the Mississippi onthe back wall. 

"And now you"--Malone turned leisurely to a stocky-looking young fellowin seedy clothes standing wistfully off to one side--"you go on and passthe word to 'em as they come out o' the quarries. "

"All right, " answered the stocky one in a hoarse voice, but withoutmoving. 

A meagre-looking man stood behind the cigar-case. 

"Will you let me have, " said Tim to him, "three good cigars?"

The man behind the cigar-case looked slyly at Malone. 

"How good?" he asked. 

"Oh, pretty fair--three for a dollar or so. "

"Three for a--I got nothing like that here. Fifteen cents straight's thebest I got. "

"All right; they'll do. "

The boss had not been smoking when Tim entered; but now he turned tolook better at Tim, and he pulled a cigar from his vest-pocket, bit offthe end, scratched a match, and leisurely lit it--all without taking hiseyes off Tim. 

Tim also leisurely bit the end off a cigar. The proprietor pushed threeor four matches across the case. Tim, ignoring them, stepped close tothe boss. 

"Would you let me have a light?" he inquired politely. 

"H-ff! h-ff!" The boss swallowed quite a little smoke, but recovered andpassed over his cigar. Tim took his light from it, said "Thanks!"briefly, and--puff-puff--contemplated the boss's stout henchman in therusty clothes, who was still standing irresolutely at one side. 

"Smoke?" inquired Tim suddenly, and thrust a cigar at him. 

"Wh-h--" stuttered the henchman, and then almost snatched it from Tim'shand. 

"You gettin' hard o' hearin'? Thought I told you to get along!" snappedMalone. 

"I am goin' along, " returned the husky voice, "soon's I light up. " Inthe curling of the smoke from the corner of his mouth, in the whoofingof it toward the ceiling, in the squaring of the thick shoulders as hepassed out--there was a hint of rebellion. 

"You may be the boss, " thought Tim, "but your grip isn't too sure. " Andturning squarely on Malone he observed genially: "Fine day. "

"H-p-p--" Malone stared fixedly at Tim. Tim stared back. Tim was rapidlydeveloping a feeling of respect for the man. Tim knew the kind. A fewyears back he had been such an uncompromising one himself, who wouldhave whipped off his coat, as no doubt Malone would now, and battled onthe spot in preference to verbal argument. 

"It is a fine day, " responded Malone slowly; "but accordin' to my dopeit ain't goin' to be half so fine a night. "

From behind the cigar-case came a giggle, and from the boss himself camean after-chuckle and a pleased little smile. 

"Why, it's not going to rain, is it?" asked Tim, and with anappropriately innocent manner he stepped to the door to look at the sky;and in looking he saw not the sky, but the widow Nolan, with some oddsand ends of firewood, making her halting way against the wind. 

"The poor creature!" murmured Tim; and while pitying her the plan cameto him. "Gentlemen, " he said over his shoulder, "I have to be off; butbefore going I cordially invite you and all your friends to the townhall to-night, to discuss the issues of the campaign. Good day, gentlemen. "

And through the door, before it closed after him, he could hear thecackle of the man behind the cigar-case: "Is it going to rain! Say, Buck, you won't do a thing to him to-night, will yuh?"

III

With his greeting of "Good afternoon to you, Mrs. Nolan!" Tim stowed thewidow's little bundle under his left arm. 

"And good afternoon to you, sir; but you'll be sp'iling your fineclothes, sir!"

"And if I do it's small loss. " He gripped her right elbow. "It's thehard walking it is, Mrs. Nolan--what with the wind and the steep hilland an old lady of your age. "

"Oh, yeh, it is--coming on to seventy-five. "

"Seventy-five? And you still hopping about active as a grasshopper! Agreat age that. 'Tis little, I'm afraid, many of us young ones will bethinking of climbing steep hillsides when we're coming on toseventy-five. 'Tis you was the active one in your young days, I'llwager. "

"'Tis me that was, sir; but oh, I'm not that now. "

"It's sad it must be to be looking back on the bright dancin' days o'youth, Mrs. Nolan. "

"Sure and it is, sir; but why--the fine bouncin' lad ye are--why shouldyou be sayin' it?"

"Ah, sure, youth has its trials and tribulations too, ma'am, sometimes. And is this your little place?"

"It is. An' will you come in, sir?"

"I will and thank ye kindly, ma'am. 'Tisn't every day a lady invites meinto her place. "

"Whisht! There are ladies enough to be pleasant to a fine strappin' ladlike you, with nothing on earth to be botherin' you. "

Tim laughed as he sat down. 

"Nothing? Oh, ma'am----"

"And what is it can be worryin' you, sir?"

"What is it? Well, if you had my job, Mrs. Nolan, I'm thinkin' you'd beworrying, too; even if 'twas big and strong and a man you were, and butthirty years of age. I'm the Republican speaker, ma'am, that has beensent to ye here. And for why? To convert ye, ma'am. "

"And so you're a Republican, sir? Well, well--but, savin' your presence, you don't look it or talk it. Sure, you're as Irish as myself!"

"I'm that Irish, ma'am, that if you were to take the Irish from out ofme it's faded and limp as a mornin'-glory at two in the afternoon I'dbe. "

"And what's your name, may I ask?"

"Riley, ma'am. Timothy Joseph Riley, to be exact. "

"Riley--Tim Riley! Well, you're the first Riley ever I knew was aRepublican. That thin-necked one in the bank, and that other one, thefat-necked one in the real-estate place--sure, you don't favor them nomore than--Yet there must be good men Republicans, too. Will you have acuppeen o' tea? 'Tisn't much; but 'twill war-rm you, maybe, on the chillday. "

"Thank you; and 'twill taste fine--a cup o' tea on a chill day likethis. And like to be chiller, Mrs. Nolan. "

"True for ye. And gen'rally I feels it; but not so to-day, sir. Mr. Kearney gave me a dollar, sayin' it was from a stranger and I wasn't tomention it--and I won't; but"--she shot a quick, warm glance atTim--"God guard the kind heart of him, whoever he is. To-morrow I'll beorderin' some beautiful groceries with it. Tis a gran' sinsation to begoin' into a store and orderin' things. "

She stooped for her little bundle of fagots, but Tim forestalled her. Heundid them, arranged them craftily in the stove with rolls of oldnewspaper beneath, and touched a match to the fire. 

"There, ma'am. "

"We'll have the little kittle b'ilin' in a minute now, sir. "

"And what will you do against the cold winter comin', ma'am?"

"Oh, yeh! I'll do, no doubt, what I've done every winter since I comehere--live through it. "

"With the cold wind coming through the wide cracks and the snow pilinghigh on the wintry mornings, it won't be the tightest place in theworld, ma'am. "

"Thanks be to God I have it--the same little cabin!"

"Thank God you have! Whisht, ma'am"--- Tim laid a restraining hand onhers as she spooned the tea out of the can--"you won't be leavingyourself any at all. "

"Sure, there's enough for the breakfast. And if we could always be sureof our breakfast it's little we'd have to complain of. And now let meget out my cups and saucers. I have two of each, thank God!"

"Let me, Mrs. Nolan--I see them. "

"Well, well--but 'tis the spry lad ye are! Sure, you're across the floorin one leap--like a stag just. "

"Oh, sure; my legs are young. And one spoonful o' sugar is it, ma'am?"

"One--yes. And now sit down. And so it's a Republican ye are? And anIrishman, too? Well, well--they do be queer happenin's in the world!"

"Queer enough. And from what part of Ireland are ye, ma'am?"

"Galway. "

"A fine place, ma'am. I know it. "

"Do ye now? But you're not Galway?"

"I wouldn't lie to ye, ma'am, though I'm tempted--I'm not; but I had anuncle, as fine a man as ever lived, who died there. I went to see himthere once, and a grand time I had with salmon-fishin' in the loch andfishin' with the Claddagh men in the bay--and on a Saturday night thelittle boys singin' the old Irish songs in the streets and before Mrs. Mack's hotel door. And was it in Galway the last of your people died?"

"It wasn't. And they didn't die--they were killed, God rest theirsouls!"

"Amen!"

The sticks in the little stove crackled; the water in the little kettlespluttered; a gaunt black cat crowded his way through the poorlyfastened door and rubbed himself against Tim's legs, whereat the widowthrew a stick of wood at him. 

"Out o' that, you with your mud on you from the quarry pools sp'ilin'the gentleman's fine clothes!"

"Small harm he'll do, ma'am. "

"It's better manners he ought to be havin', though 'tis fine to see aman like yourself hasn't too much conceit of his clothes. But now haveyour tea, avic. "

"I will. Ah-h! and the fine tea, it is, too. And isn't it a queer thingnow, Mrs. Nolan, that I can go to the finest hotels in the land and notget the like o' this for tea? The finest of hotels--yes; and here in alittle cabin, with the wind blowing through the cracks, I'm havin' teathat for its equal I'd have to go--well, to China itself, I'm thinking. But tell me, Mrs. Nolan--it's as a friend I ask--what misfortune was itbrought you to be living in a little shebeen on this rocky hillside?"

The old woman made no response, except to add three or four littlesticks of wood from her pile to freshen the fire. It was still chillyand outside it was windy, and Tim drew the man's worn coat about hershoulders and made her sit closer to the fire. And by and by she toldhim. 

When she had done the twilight was on them and the fire long gone out. Through the one little window of the cabin they could see the increasinglights in the town below, and from the road they could hear the trampingof heavy-booted men. 

"They'll be hurrying home from the quarries now. And 'tis not a lonesomehome they will be finding. "

"True, ma'am. "

And Tim sat there smoking the last of the three cigars he had boughtthat afternoon, and thinking--thinking--sometimes of the evening's workbefore him, but mostly of the old woman's story. 

"Oh, yeh; if it was but a stone I had to put on their two graves in thecemetery below!" she said after a long silence. 

"And why shouldn't you have the stone to put over them?" Tim jumped upand patted her white, straggling hair. "And you will have it, Nanna. Come with me to-night and I'll guarantee you'll have it. "

"And where will I go?"

"With me and have a fine, hot supper at Kearney's--and then to the townhall to hear me speak. "

"Indeed and I'd like that fine, Mr. Riley; but they don't be invitin'women--old women--to any rallies. "

"Tis me is giving the rally, and I'll invite whom I please--I mean, ifyou're not afraid of the rioting when they don't like, maybe, what I'mgoing to say to them. "

"Me afraid? Of what? Sure and they could be liftin' the roof itself fromthe town hall and a lone woman like myself would be safe among them. Butwhy should you be wanting me there?"

"Why? I'll tell you, Nanna, and you must take it for the true reasonuntil I can give you a better. And who knows it isn't the true reason?I'm that vain, Nanna, that I want some one soul there that isn't againstme--some one that, before ever I begin, I know will hear me out. Ifyou're there I know whose heart will be warm to me while I'm speaking. For 'tis terrible discouraging to see nothing but cold faces staring upfrom the benches and your heart bursting to tell them what's in it. "

"Sure and it must be, avic. The cold heart--'tis an awful thing. A bonyblack cat itself is more company in the house than one of ourselves whenthe heart is ice. But whisper"--she leaned doubtfully toward him--"d'y'think there'd be hope of you turnin' Dimicrat?"

"I'm afraid I'm fixed where I am. I'm not easily turned, Nanna. "

"Oh, yeh! Well, well--in one minute, Timmie avic, I'll be along withyou. "

And she dusted the hearth and gathered up her cups and saucers, which, as she washed, Tim dried. And presently he was guiding her halting stepsdown the hill. 

IV

At eight o'clock that night Tim was facing his audience, and a fine, large audience it was--not a hand's width in a single bench vacant; fromthe front row, where sat Buck Malone, almost smiling, to the back wall, where De Soto with some Indians and mailed companions was discoveringthe Mississippi--from stage to entrance, not a vacant seat. What hopesfor a man in a fighting audience like that if he could but win them tohim!

Tim was alone on the stage. 

"Gentlemen, " he began, "the Republican party in New Ireland seems to bevery busy to-night. One-half of it has to attend a conference of bankcashiers over in Rocktown; and Rocktown, it appears, is four miles in abuggy over a rough road. That rough road and the buggy are, of course, an incontrovertible argument, gentlemen. And the other half has a richprospective customer for a couple of town lots--also over in Rocktown. Abusy little place that Rocktown must be! I don't wonder you're smiling. I smiled myself when they told me. 

"But if they are not here, gentlemen, to accredit me, I am here to speakfor myself. And, as you see, there is the table, the chair, theice-water pitcher, the empty glass, all as"--he smiled down at the bossin the front row--"as Mr. Malone said it would be. 'Twas this veryafternoon Mr. Malone spoke of it; and, myself happening to hear him, Iwould not for a lord lieutenant's income disappoint him. 'Twas my goodold mother--God rest her soul!--who used to say--and many's the time shesaid it: 'Timmie dear, don't never disappoint people if you can helpit. ' And I never do--especially when it don't cost me anything; forwater is the only thing I had to bring into the hall to-night--andwater, gentlemen, is cheap. "

"Yes, an' talk's cheap, too!"

Tim bowed to the voice and smiled with the laugh that followed. 

"God knows it is cheap. If it wasn't 'tisn't the likes o' me couldafford to be handing it out to you to-night, and no charge for admissionat the door. "

"Say, Buck, his ten minutes'll be used up before ever he gets started!"came a voice from midway of the hall. 

"True for you, boy. And so I'll be introducing myself. My history isshort. Riley is my name, Timothy Joseph Riley--baptized by Father Kiley, in the parish of Ballymallow--and I'm a Republican. "

"And there's what we'd like to have you tell us, Misther Riley--how cameyou to be a Republican?"

"Yes, you blarneyin' turncoat--how came ye?"

A man in the front row stood up to say that last, a rugged-looking man, who looked as if he would like mighty well to jump up on the stage andhaul Tim down off it. Toward him Tim stepped, leaning over the edge ofthe stage so that the belligerent one would not miss a syllable. 

"I'll tell how I came to be a Republican. When I landed in this countryand before I was fairly out of Castle Garden some thief of a pickpocketor worse stole the few little dollars I had to keep me until I could geta job. I was a seventeen-year-old boy, and that shy I couldn't beg. Fortwo days not a morsel of food went into my mouth. And there I was, jumping sideways with the hunger, when a man comes along and saw me andbrought me into a grand restaurant, 'And how'll I ever pay you?' I askswhen I'd eaten my fill. He was a butcherman, with a white smock on him. And he laughs and says: 'You can't now; but by and by, when you get avote, be sure and vote the Republican ticket. ' And I says: 'Why theRepublican ticket?' And he says: 'Oh, just by way o' variety--just toshow that you people don't all go one way. '

"And"--Tim straightened up--"I took his hand, and 'Sir, I will!' I said. He was joking, maybe; but I wasn't. And I did vote the Republicanticket; and I'm still voting the Republican ticket. And I'm saying toyou all to-night--the one Republican among five hundred of ye--that I'mnot apologizing to any man in this hall or any other hall for it. AndI'm saying to you"--in the face of the inquiring man in the front row, in the face of Buck Malone, in the face of the whole hall, Tim clinchedhis fist--"I'm saying that the man of Irish blood who ever forgets thepromise that he's made to the one that befriended him--I say to ye all, and I don't care whether ye like it or not--his blood's been crossedsomewhere; he's no Irish in him! No--nor fit to be called a man at all!"

Tim stepped back to pour out a glass of water; a form rose up midway ofthe hall, and a voice roared out:

"Say, you Riley man, your politics are the divil's own, but you're Irishall right. Go on!"

Tim held the glass toward the speaker. 

"And, ma bouchal, 'tis you has the Irish heart in you, too. Here's toyou! You stubborn, unconverted, hereditary Democrat, here's to you!" Hedrained the glass. 

"Go on! Tell us more!"

"Yes; go on--talk up!"

"You'll get a show here. Go on!"

Tim glanced down at Buck Malone, swept the benches for the sight of amore cheerful face and caught the friendly eyes of Peter Kearney. Alsohe suddenly recognized the face of Malone's henchman--the man to whom hehad given the cigar. He was wagging his head encouragingly. 

"Gentlemen, I will go on--and thank you for the chance. And, with yourpermission, gentlemen, I'll speak of something besides politics. It isof charity. Gentlemen, a great quality is charity. Only because of thespirit of charity in you, gentlemen, am I allowed to speak to you hereto-night; but it's another phase of charity I'd like to speak of. I willput it in the form of a story--and, gentlemen, not too long a story. 

"There was an old lady in the old country, who received a letter fromher oldest son, John, with passage-money for her second son, Pat, tocome over and join him. She gave her consent. Why wouldn't she--whenthe living was so hard? Pat went, leaving his mother of nigh seventy andthe last of his brothers with her. One son had already gone to SouthAmerica and another to Australia; and now only a boy was left toher--and him with one leg gone in a railroad accident, for which they'dnever got a farthing. "

At this point Tim heard the side door softly open and close. He took aquick backward peek. Dinnie and old Nanna Nolan were waiting in thewings. Tim signed to them to remain there. He stepped to the front ofthe stage then, just in time to see Malone, whose every move he waswatching, uncross his legs and half rise in his seat. Tim looked at himsteadily and waited. Malone did not move farther, and Tim resumed:

"Well, the two sons in America, strong and willing, worked side by side, earning their dollar and a quarter and their dollar and a half a day, with now and again a day's or a week's layoff to set them back, butmanaging always between them to save four dollars in the week and sendit over every month to the old mother--until by and by, she scrimpingand saving, too, there was passage-money for herself and the lad to cometo America. They took the steamer at Queenstown; and 'twas like a granddream to them--until one day there came a great storm and the shipleaped and jumped, and the poor, helpless, crippled boy was thrown downan iron ladder; and when some one thought to help the poor mother pickhim up he was dead. Well--But, gentlemen, maybe I'm trying yourpatience?"

"Go on!" came a voice, and "Go on!" came another; and then three, four, a dozen voices called for him to continue. 

"Thank you. Well, gentlemen, a tempest in the great ocean, with itstremendous winds and mountains of seas, must be a terrible sight; butsurely a more terrible sight is to see that same ocean, as smooth asoil, and the blue heavens smiling down, while the body of one that'sdear to you is lowered into it! So it was. With loose, wide stitchesthey'd sewed the boy into canvas; and to the one foot of him they tied apiece of an old grate-bar, and dropped him into that great ocean. "

Tim saw Malone shoot a furtive glance sideways to learn how they weretaking it in the front row. Plainly he was not liking it, for he stoodup straight then and surveyed the rows of voters behind him. Tim waited, and every man there knew why he waited. There was an indrawing ofbreaths all over the hall. Malone, without showing the orderingforefinger, sat down again. 

Tim bowed to him. "Thank you, Mr. Malone, for that fighting chance, "which remark brought out a quick burst of applause. 

"Well, gentlemen, that poor old woman landed in the strange country. Grief-stricken she was, but not yet utterly discouraged. The son Pat wasto meet her at the dock. He was not there. Well, she could see a goodreason for that. They could not leave their work--sometimes the bosseswere strict--they had often written so in their letters. No matter. Withnot much left of her little savings, she bought a ticket and took thetrain for the town where her two sons were working. Well, neither wasPat at the station to greet her--but by and by she learned why. 

"There had been a premature explosion in the quarries, and a fall ofrock had knocked Pat senseless; and as he lay there, unconscious, asecond blast came and killed him. Well, that was an awful thing; butstill there was the son John. And they had then to tell her of John. Well, while Pat lay there helpless, another man had run in to carry himout of danger. He was a brave man, that second man, for the flame of thesecond fuse was then almost to the charge; but he ran in and he had theinjured man in his arms when the second explosion came. They were killedtogether. That second man was her other son, John. "

Tim paused; but he no longer had to ask their leave to speak. He was infull swing; and out there, beyond the ends of his nervous, spreadingfingers, they were swinging with him. Sitting up straight and still theywere--or leaning forward, bent and eager. 

A potent gift, the orator's. A writer may never hope to achieveinstantly his great intention. He is limited to monotonous-looking blackwords on a blank page. But a speaker! Added to the words are eyes, lips, hands, head, body, and the immeasurable force of personality. Tim'svoice softened and deepened, halted and quickened, rounded and trembled;the ruddy cheek took on a ruddier color; his deep-set eyes grew deeperand darker, and by and by they flamed. He grew taller; his bodyexpanded. He spread his hands--fine, shapely hands, with nervous, expressive fingers--and as he gestured he quivered to his veryfinger-tips, and down there on the benches they quivered with him. Thecold words--he warmed and revivified them. Under the caress of hisbeautiful, barely perceptible brogue the commonest, harshest lines tookon smoothness and roundness; and from out his mouth the fine, tenderwords bloomed like summer flowers; and the larger, colorful wordsflashed like gems. 

Tim, in short, was an orator. And when he said: "There, gentlemen, youhave the story--and you know whose story it is. Poor old NannaNolan's--yes:" when he had said that, with arms and hands no longergesturing, but drooping straight and motionless by his side, no onestirred--but a great sigh went up. 

And not till that moment did Malone wake up to it that he had waited toolong; but that moment he desperately chose to take his position at theend of the aisle and face his hitherto unbroken constituency; and whileMalone was doing that Tim was motioning to Dinnie in the wings; and nowDinnie was leading her out--old Nanna Nolan, halting and bewildered, blinking at the audience--as Tim held up one hand for a last word. 

"Here she is! I've tried to tell you her story, gentlemen; but there'sonly one living person can tell that story right, and I'm not that one. If you could have heard her telling it--she in her little cabin on thatwindy hillside, before her little stove, with the dark coming down andthe lights beginning to shine through----"

And that instant, while Tim's arm was across her poor thin shoulders, covered as ever with the worn man's coat--that instant Malone, whoseback was to the stage, chose to raise his fateful forefinger. 

And Tim waited. And Malone waited. 

[Illustration: "That two-faced chairman of yours--he never tipped me offyou could fight any way except with your hands. "]

Not a man left the hall. 

Malone turned and faced Tim. 

"You win, " he said; "but that two-faced chairman of yours--and he ain'tany friend of yours--he never tipped me off you could fight any wayexcept with your hands. Speak the rest of your piece. You win!"

 * * * * *

Back at headquarters the state chairman had been for an hour trying toextract a little comfort from the newspaper story of the New Irelandupheaval when the tall boss came in. To the boss, of course, he had tomake some comment, and he made it. 

"This man Riley, " he began cautiously, "I've been trying to discoverwhether he's a Republican or a Democrat by what he says here. "

"How's that?"

"He says: 'Take your leaders: and if they don't carry out your will fire'em out! If the men you have set on high betray you, ' he puts it, 'lasso'em off their pedestals and set 'em on the street level again!' If thatisn't----"

"--government by the people?"

"I wasn't going to say that, sir. "

"Why not? Isn't that what it amounts to? Let me see your paper, please. H-m! I don't see what there is here to object to. He is not against aparty government; in fact, he's all for party. Only make sure the partyleaders are honest, he says, in politics, religion, business--ineverything; and if they do not live up to their promises read them theirlesson. Well, why not? I think he's right. The people know more thanthey did and we might as well reckon with that new knowledge. The menwho don't do that might as well give up the leadership!"

There was a whole page of it in the New Ireland _Record_ about Tim. Thesenator read it all. When he at last looked up he murmured:

"Raised twelve hundred and odd dollars for the widow Nolan. That wassurely well done! Two hundred and fifty votes pledged to him before heleft the hall. He surely has the touch! And Malone says he's going tostick to his contracting hereafter. Good idea!"

The senator read on: "And Malone also says--also says--H-m!"

The chairman was startled out of his silence. 

"I set Malone on to Riley--to fool him. "

"You did!" The senator scratched his beard with his finger-nails, drewhis chin in to his neck and looked over his pince-nez at the chairman. "Too bad he misunderstood you--wasn't it? It would be so nice if wecould give you the credit; but I'm afraid we'll have to hand it toRiley. "

It was not said loudly; but the tone and the glint of the eyes--and thecultured boss stirred into using slang! The chairman knew that he mightas well pick up his hat and go. 

And he did; after he wrote out his resignation with the big bossdictating it over his shoulder. 

IN THE ANCHOR WATCH

The battle-fleet, home from foreign waters, now lay, within amile-square, emblazoned quadrangle, to placid moorings in the bay. 

From the after bridge of his own ship Lieutenant Wickett had beenobserving in silence the night life of the fleet, but when from somehappy quarter-deck to windward there floated down the opening strains ofa mellow folk-song, he lifted his chin from arms crossed on the bridgetop-rail to say to his shore-going friend beside him: "Were you everable to listen to a ship's band over water, Carlin, and not get tofeeling homesick?"

"Still the kid, aren't you? How can you be homesick and you home?"

"I'm not home--not yet. "

Just below them the officer of the deck was roaming the quarter-deck. Aship's messenger stepped up to him, saluted and said smartly: "Twobells, sir. "

"Strike 'em, " came the sharp order; and as the two bells were striking, from other ships, from windward and leeward, came also the quick, sharp-toned double stroke. 

"Why, " asked Carlin, "couldn't they strike those two bells withoutbothering that deck officer?"

"Regulations. "

"They're the devil, those regulations, Wickett. "

"Worse--sometimes. You can steer clear of the devil if you want to. " Hepaused. "And yet it would soon be a devil of a service without 'em. "

A sailor stepped up to the officer of the deck, and, saluting, said:"Anchor lights burning bright, sir. "

A man in a chief petty officer's uniform stepped up to the officer ofthe deck, whereupon Wickett, sitting up, said: "That's our wirelessoperator. "

"A message for Mr. Wickett, sir, " came the operator's voice. 

"You'll find Mr. Wickett on the after bridge, " the officer of the decksaid; and the wireless man came up the bridge ladder and saluted:

"You raised the _Clermont_, Wesson?" Wickett's voice was eagerlyanticipatory. 

"No, sir, I could not. She has no wireless. "

"Oh-h!"

"But I raised the Cape station, and they reported she passed there onschedule time. "

"On time? Good! Thank you, Wesson; that's all. "

"Were you expecting somebody on the _Clermont_?" asked Carlin, when thewireless man had gone. 

"Not really expecting. My home is a thousand miles from here, and my paywon't allow of my family travelling around everywhere to meet me. But Ilike to dream of rosy possibilities, don't you?"

A cool night breeze was blowing. Wickett bared his head to it. Presentlyhe began to hum:

 "And it's O you little baby boy A-dancing on my knee-- Will it be a belted charger Or a heaving deck to sea? Is't to be the serried pennants Or the rolling blue Na-vee? Or is't to be----"

He turned to Carlin. "When I hear myself singing that, in my ownquarters ashore, then I'm home--and not before. "

He set to humming softly again:

 "And it's O you little baby girl Athwart your mother's lap----"

Suddenly he asked: "Were you ever away from home sixteen months?"

Carlin emphatically shook his head. "No, _sir_. A year once. And I don'twant to be that long away again. Were you--before this cruise?"

"Five years one time. "

"F-i-i-ve! Whee-eee! Pretty tough that. "

"Tough? More--inhuman. A man can get fat on war, but five years fromyour family--!" He raised his face to the stars and whoofed his despairof it. 

"My year away from home, " said Carlin, though not immediately, "was inthe Philippines--where I first met you--remember? The night you landedfrom the little tug you were in command of and a bunch of us--warcorrespondents we called ourselves--were gathered around a big fire. "

Wickett nodded. "I remember. And pretty blue was I?"

"Not at first. I thought you were the most care-free kid I'd met inmonths as you sat there telling about the funny things that had happenedyou and your little war tugboat. But towards morning, with only the twoof us awake, I remember you as possibly the most melancholy young navalofficer I'd ever met. You started to tell what a tough life the navy wasfor the home-loving officer or man, and I had a special reason for beinginterested in that. I had--I still have--a nephew with his eye onAnnapolis. But just then reveille blew the camp awake and you went backto your tugboat. "

Wickett smiled, though not too buoyantly, as he said: "Well, on my nextcruise to the East I could have added a chapter to the story I mighthave told you by that overnight camp-fire. And I will now--but wait. "

A ship's messenger was saluting the officer of the deck. "Taps, sir. "

"Tell the bugler to sound taps, " was the brisk command. 

The ship's bugler had already taken position, heels together and facingseaward, in the superstructure bulkhead doorway. Looking straight down, Wickett and Carlin could see him, as, shoulders lifting and blouseexpanding, he put his lungs into the call. From other ships, as hecalled, it was coming also--the long-noted, melancholy good night of thewar legions. 

When the last lingering note drooped out, only one ship, and she afar-away one, remained; but from her, finally, on the wings of the nightbreeze, the last notes drifted--gently, sweetly, lonesomely, to them. 

 * * * * *

"What was keeping me walking the deck or sitting up around camp-firesnights in the Philippines wasn't Filipinos, " began Wickett. "I'd beenin the East a year that time we met, and I put in another year on top ofthat in China. A terrible two years. But even two years in the East withyour heart at home must have an ending. After all, the earth can onlyrevolve so many days in one year, though at times I used to believeshe'd quit revolving altogether, had stopped dead, was only markingtime--'specially nights--and that the astronomical sharps weren't on toher changes. However, at last she'd rolled her sun up and her sun downthe necessary seven hundred and odd times and I was headed for home. 

"I went out a middy and came back an ensign--which is very important. Anensign may not rate many high rights in the service, but he does rate aleave of absence. And when my leave came I flew across the bay to thefort, where Colonel Blenner--Doris's father--was commandant. And on theway over I had a thousand visions, dreams, hopes, with of course amillion misgivings, fears, doubts, and so on. 

"When I met her I set it down right away that my misgivings hadcome true. A fleet of young artillery officers were manoeuvringwithin shelling range of her, and while I didn't expect her tobound half-way across the drill-ground and throw her arms aroundmy neck, or anything like that, because she never had boundeddown and thrown her arms around my neck, and wasn't thebounding-down-and-throwing-her-arms-around-your-neck sort of a girlanyway; but what I did sort of hope for was that after a polite littleinterval she'd turn the red-caped chaps adrift and say, 'Come on, Dick, let's sit down here in the corner by ourselves and have a good talk, 'and perhaps later, before the evening got too old, go for a stroll onthe long walk, same as she used to. 

"But she didn't turn any of them loose. She kept them all about herwhile she drew me into the middle of them. But poor me! I'd had noservice at all in the civilized ports and hadn't seen more than a dozenwhite women in the whole two years I'd been gone, and of that dozen hadspoken to only three, while as for these artillery chaps--! They made mefeel like a six-pound shell in a big turret magazine. Any one of themcould talk the eye out of my head the best day I'd ever seen. And theday I came back to her wasn't the best day I'd ever seen--not fortalking purposes. I looked at and listened to them, and kept saying tomyself: 'I wonder if they realize what a lucky lot they are to be ableto stay all the time around where civilized women live?' But I don'tbelieve they did. They took everything as if 'twas no more thansmall-arms ammunition was being served out to them. 

"In my room in the hotel that night I began to chart a few new coursesfor myself. Before I left for the East Doris was terribly young andthere'd been no other war heroes hanging around. She and her mother werethen living in a quiet hotel near my house while her father was off onsome board mission in the West. But now it wasn't any isolated littlecountry hotel. It was post quarters, with her father the commandant, anda parade of young army officers in and out of those quarters, withsquadrons of two and three-stripers steaming over pretty regularly fromthe navy-yard across the bay. And she was two years older--a terribleadvance, eighteen to twenty, and I'd been two years gone. 

"You said a while ago, Carlin, 'What a kid you are!' and perhaps I am, though I think I'm an old, old party myself; but about the time I cameback from the East that first time I must have been a good deal of akid. I know now I was. That first night at the hotel, after I'd been tothe fort all day, I talked to myself in good shape. And I wound up bysaying: 'Well, what do you care? There are forty nice girls between thishotel and the post. ' But there weren't forty. There were a hundred, asfar as that went, but there was only one that I wanted to see comingover the side of my ship, and next day when I went to see that one againI set out to win her. And I'm not going to give you any history of thecourtship of Doris. I couldn't tell it right if I wanted to, and I don'twant to--it's our own private story, but she wasn't trifling when shetold me she'd never forget me before I went East. In a week it all cameback, and once more we were walking under tall pines and sailing in abeautiful bay. In another week it was as when I left her--I had hopes. 

"And then came the morning of the last day of my leave, and as an ensigndoesn't rate any shore duty I knew that next day it would have to beback to my ship for me; though that same ship being slated for aneighborly berth with the North Atlantic fleet, I didn't feel toodiscouraged. I'd be within wireless distance at least. But I did notwant to go without a promise. The night before I couldn't get twominutes together with her--there being a reception in her father'squarters to somebody or other--but when I was leaving for the night shehad said yes, she'd come sailing with me in the morning after breakfast. And I left the hotel at sunrise and went down to the boat-landing tooverhaul the hotel's little twenty-one-footer to make sure everythingwould be all ready for our sail after breakfast. 

"I went through the post grounds to get sight of her window in passing, and there she was--all dressed, and looking out across the bay fromtheir veranda. 'I was just wondering if you, too, would be up early thismorning, Dick, ' she said. 'Do you think it is going to storm?' And Itold her no, and if it did, what matter? And without waiting until afterbreakfast we went off for our young cruise in the bay. 

"I was half hoping it would storm, so I could show her what I could dowith that little boat. But there was no storm or anything like it. Theredid come a squall of wind and I let it come, wearing the boat around, and letting the main-sheet run. And she zizzed. And I let her zizz. Nothing could happen. She was one of those little craft with a lead keelthat you couldn't capsize, which I explained to Doris, while down on herside the little thing was tearing a white path in the blue water. ButDoris's people had been always army people, and she hadn't much faith infloating contraptions. She clung closer to me; and the two of us sittingtogether and nothing to do but watch the boat go, why--well, we sattogether and let her go. 

"The breeze died down until there wasn't enough of it to be called abreeze, but that was no matter. We were still sitting close togetherand while we sat so, I found courage to tell her what had been floodingmy heart through all those nights and days in Eastern waters. And wecame back to breakfast engaged. And after breakfast--" Wickettunexpectedly turned to Carlin and said, half shyly: "I suppose you stillthink I'm a good deal of a kid to be telling you all this?"

Carlin nodded in serene agreement. "I always thought you were a gooddeal of a kid. I hope you always will be. God save me from the man whoisn't still a good deal of a kid at thirty. What did you do afterbreakfast?"

"After breakfast I went up to see Colonel Blenner, and found him on hisveranda smoking his after-breakfast cigar before he went over toguard-mount. He was genial as ever; except that he put his foot down onan engagement. 'An engagement means a marriage, or should, ' he says, 'and how can you marry on an ensign's pay? You with your mess bills andother expenses aboard ship, and Doris with her quarters ashore--youwould never meet your bills. '

"I agreed with him, but also argued with him, and shook him some, butcould not quite upset him. I left him to run back to the hotel to throwmy things together. And there I found a new complication--orders werewaiting me. I was to be detached from my ship and to take command ofthe gunboat _Bayport_--and a rust-eaten old kettle of a _Bayport_ shewas, famous for her disabilities; and I was to sail for Manila nextmorning at eight o'clock. Manila! Another jolt. I sat down and thoughtit out. 

"And when I got talking to myself again, I said: 'Doris Blenner, you'rea great girl--the best ever; but you're not superhuman. No man has aright to expect a girl to be that. You're too lovable, too human, Doris, to be the superhuman kind. I'll be away in the East Lord knows howlong--another two years perhaps--and there's all those army chaps alwayson the job. We'll just have to be married, that's all there is to that, before I leave. '

"I was back to the post in time to join a riding-party after lunch. Itwas no use my trying to see her alone riding. But after the ride weslipped out onto the ramparts of the fort, and there, the pair of ussitting hand in hand and a sentry a dozen paces away trying not to seeand hear us, I told her of my orders and then entered my new plea. 'Allfor myself, Doris, ' I told her. By that time the sun was low behind usand throwing our two shadows onto where the water of the bay camegurgling up against the walls of the fort, and looking down on ourshadows from the fort walls, she said at last she would marry me beforeI left, if papa agreed--and glad one minute and sad the next, we walkedback in the twilight. 

"Colors had sounded when we got back, and the colonel was dressing fordinner; but after dinner I took him out for a walk. Three laps we madearound the drill-ground and then, halting him under the clump of willowsdown by the outer walls, I plumped it at him--what it meant to be awayfor months and years from your own people. 

"And he heard me through, and said: 'Why, that's part of the hardship, Richard, in both arms of the service. In my day, Richard----"

"'Pardon, Colonel, ' I butted in, 'pardon me, Colonel, but in your daythe army people never left the country. Even when you were fightingIndians on the frontier, after all it was only the frontier and nevermore than a couple of thousand miles at the most to get back home. Andwhen you were through campaigning and back in garrison, your peoplecould come to see you. But twelve thousand miles! It isn't as if a man'swithin telephone call then. And when you're not to see your people forthat length of time, there's danger. '

"'Danger?' He stiffens up and takes a peek at me. 

"'Danger, yes sir, ' I said. 'I've been out there in the islands, in atugboat with her engines broken down and she drifting onto a beach wherefour hundred squatting Moros with Remington rifles were waitinghopefully for us to come ashore. Four hundred of them and five of us alltold. But that's not danger, sir, ' I hurries on, 'of the kind to scare aman, though it did sicken me to think I'd never see Doris again, andthat perhaps it would shock her when she heard of it. But otherwise, sir, that's no danger. But when a young officer goes a thousand miles upa Chinese river in command of a gunboat, as I was this last time--gonefor months on it--and being commander was everywhere received as therepresentative of a great country by all the governors and topsidemandarins along the route. And they haven't our idea of things--a lot ofthings that seem wrong to us seem all right to them. They mean no harm. They intend only to be courteous and complimentary, and so they strew afellow's path with the flowers of ease and pleasure--if he forgetshimself, there's danger, Colonel, ' I said. 'I sail at eight in themorning, sir. I'm to be gone I don't know how long, perhaps another twoyears, and--Colonel--I want a home anchor. '

"He said no word till he had finished his cigar. When he does he dropsit at his feet, steps on it to put out the light, and says: 'A goodargument for yourself, Richard, but what of Doris?'

"'Doris has probably done a lot of thinking in the matter, sir. Why notleave it to Doris, sir?'

"'Of course, ' he said, dry as powder, 'Doris would be disinterested inthis case!'

"'Then leave it to her mother, sir. '

"'I see neither logic nor prudence in your argument, Richard, ' heanswers at last, 'but I will leave it to her mother. ' And when he saidthat, I knew I had won; for, without her ever telling me, I knew hermother was with us. If I had told him that, I would only have beentelling what he already guessed, as he told me that same night, later. 

"Anyway, after a minute with Doris and her mother, I jumped over to thehotel, and from the side of a most billowy waltz partner I detachedShorty Erroll to get the ring and the smaller stores for a properwedding, and then I went out to bespeak my own ship's chaplain. I foundhim lying in his bunk in his pajamas with a History of the Tunisian Warsbalanced on his chest and a wall-light just back of his head, and hesays: 'Why surely, Dick, ' when I told him, but added: 'Though that oldsieve of a _Bayport_, I doubt will you ever get her as far as Manila, 'after which, carefully inserting a book-mark into the Tunisians, heglides into his uniform and comes ashore with me. 

"And without Doris even changing her dress we were married--in thecolonel's quarters, with every officer and every member of everyofficer's family on the reservation--even the children--standing by. Andthe women said, 'How distressing, Mr. Wickett, to have to leave in themorning!' and the men said, 'Tough luck, Dick'--and be sure I thought itwas tough luck, and it would have been tough luck only by this time theentire post had got busy and got word to Washington, and at eleveno'clock, while we were still at the wedding-supper, word came to delaythe sailing of the gunboat for twenty-four hours. And that was followedby a telegraphic order next morning to haul the _Bayport_ into dry dockand overhaul her. "

Wickett, who had been talking rapidly, came to a full stop, while threebells were striking throughout the fleet. 

"Nine-thirty, " said Wickett. "I thought I saw a steamer's light beyondthe breakwater. "

Carlin looked where he pointed. "I don't, but I haven't your eyes. Howlong was the respite?"

"In ten days they had her afloat again. I thanked my God-given luck forevery flying minute of those ten days. "

"And did she stay afloat long enough to get to Manila?"

"Oh, yes. She wasn't half bad. Needed a little nursing in heavy weather, but outside of that she wasn't hopeless at all. "

"And what of Mrs. Wickett?"

"She was to come to me just as soon as I cabled where in the East thegunboat would fetch up for any sort of a stay. But I was never in onespot for long. We cruised from Vladivostok to Manila and back again, never more than a week in any one place. Even so, as soon as I'd savedenough out of my ensign's pay, she was to come--and she would have--tomeet me; but before enough months of saving had passed she wrote me. There was a baby coming, and then I wouldn't let her come. I did notwant her jumping from port to port in foreign waters before the baby wasborn, and she would soon be needing every cent of my ensign's pay that Icould save. 

"And the months rolled around and the cable came which told that thebaby had come, and that Doris and everything was fine; and I was ashappy as a man could be with a wife and boy he was crazy to see, butcouldn't. She wanted to come out and join me right away, but I said no. 

"Well, when the baby was big enough to stand travel she was coming, anyway, she wrote; but I reminded her that before a great while now Iought to be on my way home. And one day in the China Seas I saw the sunbetween us and the shore setting under a thousand golden lakes and poolsand purple pillars, and a home-bound pennant of a full cable's lengthwhipping the breeze in our smoke astern. "

Wickett paused, and resumed: "That was a great night. It was two yearsand three months since I'd left Bayport. The first thing I did in themorning after turning out, and for every morning thereafter, was to stepto the calendar on the wall of my room and block out that day's datewith a fat blue-leaded pencil I'd got from the paymaster for thatpurpose alone, and then, estimating the run on the chief engineer'sdope, count how many days were left. "

Wickett was silent. He remained silent so long that Carlin thought thatthat must be the end, abrupt though it was, to the story. But it was notthat. Wickett was pointing across the bay. 

"See, Carlin--the flag-ship of the second squadron has just sent out anorder for its first division to prepare for an emergency signal drill. And the first division are to have a torpedo drill at the same time. Wait--in half a minute it will be on. There--look!"

From the mastheads the red and white Ardois lights were winking even asthe illuminated arms of the semaphores were wigwagging jerky messagesfrom bridge to bridge; on shore, on the water, on the clouds, the greatsearch-lights swept and crossed endlessly. It was dazzling. Suddenly itceased. "Oh-h!" protested Carlin. 

"Life is just like that, isn't it?" said Wickett; "all light and playand color for a spell, and then--pff--lights out. "

"Maybe, " admitted Carlin, "but don't impede the speed of the story. Yourship was racing for home. "

"Our orders were to proceed by way of Suez and to rendezvous with thebattle-fleet at Guant�namo, Cuba. We got into Guant�namo the day beforethe _Missalama_ arrived from the North. The _Missalama_ had orders toproceed to the West Coast. Half a dozen of the officers already inGuant�namo were ordered to her. I was one of them. "

"Good night! But that was a jolt!"

"That's what it was. But that's the service. "

"And couldn't you do anything about it?"

"What could I do? There were my orders. A couple of the fellows came asnear to being politicians then as ever they did in their lives. Theytried to reach people in Washington--bureau chiefs, senators, influential congressmen--to have me detached and ordered home. But nextday was a holiday and the day after was Sunday, and the ship had to sailby Sunday. And she did, and I with her. "

"And how do you account for your being shunted off like that? Somebodyhave it in for you?"

"No, no--not that. Simply the politicians. I don't suppose the servicewill ever be free of the near-politicians. The navy has them--fellowswho are not good enough officers to depend upon themselves alone, andnot good enough politicians to go in for politics altogether. Somebodywith a good shore billet somewhere was probably due for sea-duty, andnot wanting to let go of a good thing, and having the pull, somebodyelse went instead. And somebody else for that somebody else, andsomebody else again, and so on till at last the somebody else who couldbe made to serve a turn happened to be me. 

"'Hard luck, Dickie, ' said the ward-room mess. 'But cheer up--in threemonths you'll see the Golden Gate, and by then you'll be ready for alittle duty on your home coast. Then your lieutenant's straps and shoreduty, and your wife and baby to yourself for a while. ' I had thatthought to cheer me through the night-watches around South America, butat Callao we got orders to proceed to Manila, and after six months outthat way it was off to the Island of Guam, and from there to make asurvey of some islands in the South Sea. No way I could fix it could Itell my wife to come and meet me at any certain place. 

"But no task is endless. We were homeward bound at last. I remember howI used to say at mess that I was never going to believe I was home, tillwith my own eyes I saw the anchor splash in a home port. But there itwas now--the anchor actually splashing in Bayport. I had the bridgemaking port, and I remember what a look I took around me before I turnedthe deck over to the executive. From the bridge, with a long glass, Icould see above the tree tops the roof of the colonel's old quarters. Ipictured him on the veranda below with the baby and Doris waiting forme. I'd sent a wireless ahead for Doris not to risk herself or that babyout in the bay with a fleet of battle-ships coming to anchor. And thebaby! I dreamed of him reaching up his little hands and calling, 'Papa, papa!' when he saw me. 

"Well, everything was shipshape. We were safe to moorings and I wasrelieved of the deck and about to step off the bridge when the word waspassed that somebody was waiting to see me in the ward-room. And with nomore than that--'Somebody to see you, sir'--I knew who it was. The fortboat had come alongside and people had come aboard--officers' wives andfamilies, I knew, but not just who, because the boat had unloaded aftwhile I was on the bridge forward. But I knew. 

"The messenger smiled when he told me. The men along the deck smiledwhen they saw me hurrying aft. The marines on the half-deck smiled as Iflew by them. Everybody aboard knew by this time of my five years fromhome and the little baby waiting. Good old Doctor and Pay, going up totake the air on the quarter-deck, said: 'Hurry, Dick, hurry!' Hurry? Iwas taking the ladders in single leaps. At the foot of the last one, inthe passageway leading to the ward-room, I all but bowled over a littlefellow who was looking up the ladder like he was expecting somebody. Ipicked him up and stood him on his feet again. 'Hi, little man!' Iremember saying, and thinking what a fine little fellow he was, but nomore than that, I was in such a hurry. 

"And into the ward-room, and everybody in the ward-room that wasn'toccupied with some of his own was smiling and pointing a finger towhere, in the door of my stateroom, Doris was waiting for me. And I dovethrough the bulkhead door, leaped the length of the ward-room country, and took her in my arms. For a minute, five minutes, ten minutes--justhow long I don't know--but I held her and patted her and dried hertears. 

"'And where's little Dick?' I asked at last. 

"'Why, that was Dick you stood on his feet in the passageway, ' she said, and laughed to think I didn't know him. 'But that's because he looks somuch like you and not me. No man knows what he looks like himself, ' shesaid, and ran and got Dick, and brought him to me, and said: 'Dick, here's your papa. ' And Dick looked at me and he said: 'No, mama, that isnot my papa. My papa has no legs, ' just as I was going to fold him in myarms and hug him to death. 

"And--will you still think I was only a kid?--I stepped into my room anddrew the curtains, and sat down by my bunk and cried. After five years!And Doris came in, and perhaps she wanted to cry, too, but she didn't. She drew a photograph from her bosom and showed it to me. It was theonly one of me that ever suited her, and it happened to be only a headand shoulders, and every day since the baby was old enough she had toldhim: 'That's your papa, dear, and some day he'll come home in a greatbig war-ship with guns and guns, and then you'll see. ' And the poorlittle kid, four years and three months old, had never seen any legs onthe man in the photograph; but he had seen his mother cry almost everytime she looked at it, and he supposed that was why she cried--becausepapa had no legs. And so the poor kid was waiting to see a man with nolegs. "

Wickett was silent. Carlin asked no more questions. In silence he, too, studied what was left of the night-life of the fleet. Only the whiteanchor-lights of the motionless battle-ships, the colored side-lights ofthe chugging steam-launches, were now left. 

Carlin pointed out to Wickett a green light coming rapidly in from sea. "Another battle-ship, Wickett?"

Wickett shook his head. "No. I've been watching her. It's the_Clermont_. She's due. And I'm half afraid to go and board her. "

"Why?"

"If my wife's aboard, she'll have with her a fifteen-months-old daughterthat I have never seen. Suppose she, too, greets me with--She's swingingback--to her anchorage--look. "

The green light rolled in a great half-circle inshore, and disappeared. A red light curved into sight. 

Wickett jumped up. "Come on, Carlin, I'll get permission to leave theship. We'll be there before she lowers the port ladder. "

"No, but drop me at the landing on the way and I'll see you in themorning at the hotel. How's that?"

 * * * * *

Carlin saw him before the morning. He was in the lobby of the hotel whenWickett with his wife, a fine big boy, and a lovely little baby girl, got out of the hotel 'bus. The boy was clinging to Wickett's hand, allthe while talking rapturously of the trip of the _Clermont_. With hisfree arm Wickett was carrying the baby, which was murmuring, "Papa, papa, papa!"

Carlin would have known Mrs. Wickett without an introduction or thepresence of the boy and the baby. Merely from the way she looked atWickett he knew that this was the girl who had gone sailing with him inthe dawn and become engaged before breakfast. 

"It's all right, " smiled Wickett, with his cheek against the baby's. "This one can't seem to say anything but papa!"

Carlin nodded, and whispered: "And you couldn't afford it?"

Wickett grinned. "We couldn't; but we did. We always do. "

"And how about the service--going to quit it?"

Wickett stared at Carlin. "Quit the service!"

Suddenly he recalled, and laughed, and whispered: "Sh-h--! I'm due for ayear and a half of shore duty. But don't mind if I hurry along, willyou? I got to get these children to bed. "

"Go on--hurry--and good night, " said Carlin. "Good night, Mrs. Wickett, "and handed her into the elevator; and smoked two thoughtful cigars onthe veranda and then went inside and sat down and wrote a long letter onthe subject of the navy as a profession to the mother of a young ladback home. 

There was much detail, and then:

 As to being away from home for long periods: Married officers tell me that it is hard at times. But judging by what I saw awhile ago here, the home-coming almost offsets the long absences. The kind of a woman they marry probably makes a lot of difference. I'd say, let him go if he wants to. Good night. 

 Your affectionate brother, SAM. 

CROSS COURSES

Hearing the boys in the office talking of a lecture at the Sailor'sHaven a few nights ago was what set me thinking to-day. It was onsuperstition, and the speaker digressed to expend ten minutes, as he putit, on sailors. A most superstitious lot, sailors. 

He had a lot of fun with the sailors, and a crowd of old seafaring mensat there and let him, until a boss stevedore from our wharf who'd beenone time mate of a coaster, with the preliminary contribution that thiswas sure the wisest party he'd listened to in all o' seven years, roseto inquire of the gentleman how long he'd been to sea. 

Well, he had been to sea quite a little. Twice to Europe and return, once to Panama and return, once to Jamaica in the West Indies and----

"--return?" finishes our stevedore. "Sure you returned each time? 'N' inwhat sortivver craft'd you sail to them places--and return--in?"

"Why, steamers, " answers the lecturer. 

"Passinjer?"

"Passenger? Certainly. "

"Excuse _me_!" says our stevedore. "I oughter known better. O' course, _you know_ all about sailors, " and sits down. 

The lecturer was all right. He was doing the best he knew, with thefinest and fattest of words he could pick out, to make things clearer tohis audience; and his audience, appreciating that, let him run on, untilhe said that there was not one mysterious thing which had ever happenedthat could fail to be proved very ordinary by mathematical, orhistorical, or logical, or physical, or some other "cal" deduction;which bounced our watch-dog out of his seat again. 

"How d'you 'count, " he growls, "for th' _Orion_ 'n' _Sirius_?"

Well-l, he could not account for it, for the simple and overwhelminglyconclusive reason that, previous to that very moment, he had never heardof the ships named. 

"Then s'pose you hear 'f 'em now, " says our stevedore, and starts in anddelivers the lecturer a lecture on the _Orion_ and _Sirius_, and itwound up the show; for when the lecturer started to butt in, all the oldbarnacles, who before this had been clinging warily to the edge of theirseats, now rose up and rallied around our stevedore to finish hisstory, which he did; and the old fellows, on leaving the hall, said thatthe credit of the proceeds for the Sailor's Haven fund, for that night, anyway, ought to go as much to their old college chum from the coalwharf as to any imported lecturer with his deckload of lantern slides. 

But our stevedore didn't tell all there was of the _Orion_ and the_Sirius_. The lecturer went home thinking he had been told all about it, but he hadn't. Here it is as it was. 

I

In the fleet of big coal schooners, which at this time were running fromthe middle Atlantic ports to Boston, the twin five-masters, the _Orion_and the _Sirius_, were notable. 

They were twins in everything: built from the one set of moulds in theone yard at the one time, launched together, rigged together, sailed ontheir maiden trips together, and were brought home with their firstcargoes of coal together by two masters who were almost as twinlike tolook at as their vessels. 

It was the history of these two big schooners, that they seemed alwaysto be wanting to get together. Their crews used to say of them that ifleft anchored at all near each other in the stream, they would startright away to swing toward each other. Even if it was slack water theywould. Yes, sir. 

I can't speak from personal knowledge of that tide-swinging trick, but Ido know that I saw them a few hours after they had twice smashed intoeach other--once under sail off the Capes and once in tow up BostonHarbor; and it was not to be doubted that in both cases they had morethan drifted into each other. And of their near-collisions! A day's loafalong the water-front would yield gossip of a dozen or more. 

Now, these next few lines are from out of the sailors' book of gossip ofmysterious happenings at sea; and it is true that the more sailorly thegossip, the more likely will it be to try to account for unusualaccidents at sea in a natural way; and the most usual reason given isinefficiency--lack of seamanship. As to that, it is true that lack ofseamanship or of sea instinct has accounted for many calamities at sea, and the same lack would probably account for many another not so setdown on the public tablets; but lack of seamanship won't account for allthe queer happenings at sea. Every now and then comes a ship which noearthly power seems able to keep up with. From out of our superior shoreknowledge we may deduce that the builder or designer was in fault, thatthere must have been an asymmetry in her hull, or that her rigginglacked balance, such defects tending to render her uncontrollable undercertain conditions. Maybe; but there she is, as she is, with the malignfates seeming to be working double tides to get her. 

"Hoodoo ships, " sailors term such, and "Hoo-doos, both of 'em, " thecrews of the collier fleet early labelled the _Orion_ and the _Sirius_. Yes, _sir_. And some day the pair of them were going up--or down--in awhirl of glory. If only they would smash only each other, and not go toputting poor innocent outsiders out of commission when they didgo!--that was all they'd ask of _them_. 

The master of the _Orion_ was Oliver Sickles; of the _Sirius_, NormanSickles; and they were from the same little hamlet in that Cape Shoreregion whence come so many capable sailormen. Each was named for hisfather, and their fathers were brothers who hated each other and broughtup their children to hate each other. 

It was curious to see them--two master mariners commanding sister shipsfor the same owners--passing each other on the wharf, brushing elbows inthe office, putting to sea time and time together, sailing, again andagain, side by side for days together, and yet never seeming to see eachother. Indifference was the word; but if by any chance a third personreferred to one in the presence of the other in anything likecomplimentary terms, that third person was soon let to know that hewasn't making any hit with whichever Captain Sickles it was who had tolisten. If it was Norman of the _Sirius_, he would shift his feet andstart to stare intently at the ceiling or the sky; if it was Oliver ofthe _Orion_, with a snarl of disgust he would get up and walk off. 

I had heard a lot of the Sickles cousins, but had never had more than ahailing acquaintance with either of them, until this early fall when myfirm chartered, among others, the _Orion_ and the _Sirius_, and sent medown to Newport News to see that they lost no time in loading andgetting out. It was the time of a threatened coal famine in New England, with coal freights up to two dollars a ton, and my firm charteringeverything they could get hold of to take the coal from the railroads atNewport News and rush it east. 

In our two new schooner captains, Norman and Oliver Sickles, I found, when I came to have dealings with them, a pair who knew their business. Implacable toward each other they surely were, but so long as theirfeelings weren't delaying their sailing days, that was their ownbusiness. Tall, broad, powerful chaps they both were, twenty-eight orthirty years of age to look at, slow in thought, heavy in action, butcompetent sailormen always. I had no need to know their records, nor totalk with them too many hours, to find that out. Not much about aschooner, be she two or five master, nor much about the North Atlanticcoast, that they didn't know. 

I had been three months in Newport News, Christmas was at hand, and therailroad people were telling me that they would have no more coal for myfirm until after New Year's. There were twenty thousand tons not yetgone; but if my four four-master schooners could sail next morning, andthe five-masters, _Orion_ and _Sirius_, get away the morning after, thattwenty thousand tons would be cleaned up. 

I hunted up the Captain Sickles of the _Sirius_ and put the question tohim: "Captain Norman, if I can get you loaded and cleared by the morningafter to-morrow, what's the chance of your making Boston by Christmas?"And he answered, after some thought: "It's a westerly wind with a mediumglass to-day. It ought to hang on westerly and dry for another four orfive days. Clear me by the morning after to-morrow, and I'll lay the_Sirius_ to anchor in Boston Harbor Christmas Eve, or"--he was a man ofserious ways, and spoke most seriously now---"or I'll give you a goodreason why. "

I hunted up Captain Oliver Sickles of the _Orion_, and I found himhaving a drink in the bar of the Tidewater Caf�. He looked as if he'dwelcome a quarrel, but that was nothing strange in him. I put the samequestion to him that I had put to his cousin, and the answer came inalmost the same words as to the medium glass and the westerly wind, butat that point he looked sharply at me. 

"And when does the _Sirius_ sail?" he asked. 

"The morning after to-morrow. "

"And"--suspiciously--"who first that morning, the _Sirius_ or me?"

"I don't know. You'll be loaded and cleared together--it's foryourselves to say who sails first. "

"And what did he say?"

Captain Oliver had a hectoring way about him which used to make mepromise myself that some day, after he'd done hauling coal for myoutfit, I'd tell him what I thought of him. "What did who say?" I askedhim now. 

"Warn't you talkin' to my cousin awhile ago about the same thing?"

"I was, though I don't remember telling you about it. "

"H-m, " he sneered, "I thought so. Y' always go to him first. "

"Yes, I do!" I snapped at him. "And why? Because he knows his mind. Andhe's a man to give an answer without using up an afternoon talking aboutit. He said he'd have the _Sirius_ to anchor in Boston Harbor byChristmas Eve or give me a good reason why. "

"He did, did he? Then set this down in your log"--with the end of aprodigiously thick forefinger he was tapping the bar as he saidit:--"The _Orion_ will be laying to anchor in Boston Harbor by ChristmasEve or there'll be a _damn_ good reason why. "

Right here I should say that there was more than a rivalry ofcraftsmanship between the Sickles cousins. Once, thinking it was the_Sirius_, Norman Sickles's sweetheart, a very pretty and a very goodgirl, had gone aboard the _Orion_ as it lay in Boston Harbor. Oliver atonce locked her in the cabin, put to sea, and carried her toPhiladelphia, where, urged by her mother, and to save her good name asshe thought, she married Oliver. But that her heart was still withNorman was current gossip in the fleet. 

Because he had lately heard that I had been free-spoken in my comment onthat exploit was why Captain Oliver now--his forefinger tapping the barand he eying me from under his hat-brim--added to his "good reason" theword that, no matter what my firm or any other firm thought of this orthat, which warn't none o' their business anyway, he wanted 'em all tounderstand that he was as capable of getting a quick passage out of avessel as any Norman Sickles that ever walked; which gave me a finechance to say: "Well, the place to prove that is at sea, and not in abarroom ashore. "

Not very delicate--no; but it sent him almost on the run down aboard hisvessel, to clear his decks for loading, which was mostly what I wasafter. 

And I let it leak out--the answer of the two cousins about being inBoston before Christmas. A little rivalry of that kind doesn't do anyharm; and I wanted to walk into the office on Christmas Eve and say, "The last of that Newport News coal is lying out there in the streamwaiting to dock, " and then go home, even as many of the crews would wantto go home, with an easy conscience for a Christmas holiday. 

II

People in my line used to say that I was pretty young for my job, andsome of them to warn me about allowing the underlings to get familiarwith me. Well, perhaps I was too young for my job, or for any other jobof any account; but as to the other charge I never noticed anybodygetting over-familiar with me. Friendly, yes; but even the head of thefirm himself couldn't get over-familiar unless I let him. 

Part of my job, as I figured it, was to know freights and ships and themasters of ships; and where it hurt the firm's interests if I knew thecrews as well, I couldn't see. Some would tell me that the further awayI kept from them the more highly they would respect me, and the morehighly they respected me the more they would do for me, which would havelistened well if their vessels were getting in and out of loading portsany faster than mine did; but nobody noticed that they were. 

And beyond that: I could never see where a little friendliness toanybody did any harm. I may have been too young for my job, but I wasn'ttoo young to know that the world is alive with unassuming little fellowswho are full to the hatches with knowledge of one kind or another thatthey will cheerfully unload to anybody who has time for them. Not that Iwant anybody to think I am so long-headed or forehanded a chap as tospend time only with people who could tell me things! I didn't do anythinking about it one way or the other. Any man that had time for me, Ihad time for him. 

I had time for Drislane. He was one of the crew of the _Sirius_, and Ihad been seeing quite a little of him while I was in Newport News thisfall on the coal. The _Sirius_ would load, sail, and return; load, sail, and return; and between trips Drislane and I would have sessions. 

I'd seen something of Drislane before this in Boston. His mail used tocome addressed to our Boston office, where everybody knew that twice ayear, toward the end of June and just before Christmas, a check wouldcome to him from his home in the West. When he came up from the vesselafter a trip and found that home envelope awaiting him, he would steparound to his room, clean up, and in his shore-going suit of clothescome back, have us cash his check, and then, according to our officeforce, it was--Good night! for two weeks. 

The check, always the same--for twelve hundred dollars--would have givenhim a good two weeks' whirl in highly-rated, expensive places, if hecared for splurge, but I guess he never was influenced much byregulation ratings. Any place he liked the looks of would do forhim--and some perhaps that he didn't like the looks of. 

It was no use to try to tell the office force that Drislane hadn't aweak joint somewhere. Man, they _knew_! and holding no berths for thepurely spiritual, with but one suspicious and unexplained action towork from, would build you up a character of any depth of depravity youwere pleased to have. Three guesses, no more, was all they needed forDrislane's case. It was rum, or women, or rum _and_ women. If neither, then there was no hope for him at all--he was insane. 

And certainly his judgment in women was something fierce. I'm settingdown now the diction, as well as the judgment, of the office force; thislast judgment being based on the evidence of the two illuminatedoccasions when he had come in to cash his check, and each time broughtwith him a young woman. Naturally, on his departure, the lads in theoffice had a word to say. The only way they could account for hisselections--well, they couldn't account for them. It must be a genius hehad--something was born with him--to pick the homely ones. 

There wasn't the least evidence to show that there was anything wrong inthese companionships of his. My notion of it was--he would never speakof it--that he picked up any kind of people in any kind of place, andmade them as happy as he could while his money lasted. He certainlynever went off for any two weeks' jamboree. Whatever his experienceswere, they seemed to leave him in good shape physically, anyway. Atleast the marks of too many lonesome hours seemed to be ironed out ofhis face when he came back. 

The man was so everlastingly unconscious that he was different fromanybody else that it was refreshing. But there was more than that--tome, at least. I always looked on him as a touchstone, one of those menby whom you may gauge other men. Drislane was sensitized to crooks. Hehad only to stand in the same room with them to get their moralpictures. If I heard of Drislane distrusting a man or of a man dislikingDrislane, I would at once set that man down, knowing nothing of the man, as having a rotten spot in him somewhere. 

That was the Drislane who met me this night before the _Sirius_ and the_Orion_ were to sail for their last coal trip of the year, and asked meto have supper with him. And he took me to that same place where I'd hadthe words with Captain Oliver Sickles the day before--that is, theTidewater Caf�--where was a drinking bar in front and a restaurant inback, a common enough sort of place, where women of the streetcould--and did--bring drunken sailors, and they served you pie with aknife. 

I speak of that item of serving pie with a knife, not by way of pokingfun at anybody; but here was a man five years away from his inlandhills, for a whole year owner of an eating-place in a good-sizedseaport city, and had not yet noticed that some people ate pie without aknife. By it I fancied I could gauge the man's social inheritance. Andthere were other customs of the place in keeping with the pie and knife. I used to speculate on what primitive sort of an upbringing he had thathe was so slow to adopt the most ordinary civilized customs. 

Drislane seemed to be at home in the place. So was I for that matter; bywhich I mean I felt safe enough. Several times before this, in myinquisitive ramblings about the port, I had looked in there. So far asthat goes, there are not many places where they bother a man who doesn'tbother them, always excepting, of course, that he doesn't get drunk anddisorderly, and isn't naturally foolish. 

While I was studying the place and the people, Drislane ordered supper. I paid no attention to him until he joggled my elbow. "What do you thinkof her?" he asked. 

"Which one?" I asked, and looked about me afresh to note what worshipfulcreature it was I had missed. 

"You didn't notice, " he said, plainly put out with me, "the girl who iswaiting on us?"

I had noticed her; but when she reappeared with the first part of ourorder, I noticed anew. A tall, full-bosomed girl she was, and as shewalked across the floor toward us, a load of table things in each hand, she swayed from her hips like a young tree in the wind. 

The physical force and poise of the girl was the notable thing abouther. She carried her armfuls of dishes and food as if they were handfulsof marshmallows. She must have spent years working like a man in thefields to have developed such physical power. As to her face--it wasinnocent as a child's. 

He introduced me when she had set down her dishes. "Miss Rose"---- Ididn't get her surname, and it doesn't matter. "Rose's uncle owns thisplace, " he added. 

"Poor girl!" I thought. 

She met his enchanted gaze with a slow, red-lipped smile. To me she gavean embarrassed, half-sidewise glance. Strange men as yet were evidentlydisturbing items in her life. 

He watched her when she left us, until she had passed through thekitchen-door and beyond sight. "I'm going to marry and settle down, " hesaid. 

"This young lady?"

"If she'll have me. I haven't asked her yet. " He was fiddling with hisbread and butter. Suddenly he burst out with: "If you knew how lonesomeI used to get, and the things I was tempted to do to forget it!"

"A man doesn't need, son, to be entirely exiled from his family tobelieve that; but when you're married will you go to sea just the same?"I asked. 

He did not answer. 

I felt sorry for him. She looked to be a good girl, but I foresaw hertroubles in a place like this while he would be away to sea. It would bea constant fight. She was possibly nineteen; she didn't look like a girlwho had been tempered by temptation's long siege, and Lord knows whatresisting power she would develop when so tempted. 

From the fragments Drislane fed me with while she was coming and going, I learned that both her parents were dead, that she had been in the cityonly three months, that her uncle didn't seem to see anything strange inher employment in his place, and that Drislane was the first man who hadshown an honest interest in her. "I take her to the theatre regularly, "said Drislane. "I would to-night, only I want to sit in somewhere andhave a long talk with her. You'd be surprised the things she doesn'tknow about the world. "

"I wonder, " I thought to myself, "if you realize the things _you_ don'tknow about the world, " and began to wish then for his own sake that he'dhurry up and take to looking at life through the same glasses otherpeople used. 

She was living in sordid quarters in a section where a woman was anyman's who could get her, and on any terms he could get her; and she wasof the type and at the age which has always been held most desirable bythe primitive male; and it was to be doubted if she had had thereligious or home training needful to an emotional nature. In a goodhome, in a community where a woman was respected because she was awoman, all would have been fine; but here--they married, and he most ofthe time at sea--I felt sorry for her as well as for him. 

"Take her out of here when you marry, " I said to him before parting. 

He shook his head. "No, I had a scrap with my people leaving home. They're all right at home--the best--but they want me to get down on myknees to them. "

"Better be on your knees of your own will to your own people thanagainst your will to an enemy, " I said, but it had no meaning to him;and I left him to his Rose, almost wishing that something would happento him soon to shake him up, even if, shaking him up, it shook off afew of the purple blossoms that he thought so necessary to the tree oflife. Thinking of him I almost talk like him in his absent-mindedmoments. 

III

I left Drislane to go to the theatre with Captain Norman Sickles. Thetheatre over, he went with me to my hotel to get a few ship's papers Ihad for him. After that we sat in for a smoke and a chat. 

Not that there was much chatting on Captain Norman's part. He never didhave much to say of himself, nor too much of anybody else, though hecould praise a man if he liked him. It was the first time I had everspent more than an hour together with him except on pure business, and Iwas curious to know just what he thought of a lot of things; amongothers, of his cousin. I gave him two or three openings, but he didn'trush in. What he did have to say of him he said at one gulp. It was:"Where I was raised 'twas common talk that after you'd been gettingnaught but fair winds for a long course, it was then a good time to keepa watch out. The headwinds have to come some time, and the longer theybe in coming the longer they'll stay with you when they does come. Oliver Sickles's been runnin' with a free sheet so long that Icalc'late he's forgot there's such a thing as headwinds this side theWestern ocean. "

Even as Drislane, so did Captain Norman look like a terribly lonesomeman at times. He probably was not yet over losing that girl who had beentricked into marrying his cousin. His cousin seemed to have got over it. There was gossip enough between Boston and Norfolk to hang more than asuspicion of that on--for that and the belief that not so much inmarrying her as in getting the girl away from his cousin was whereCaptain Oliver had most likely achieved his main desire. 

We talked until Captain Norman thought it was time for him to be gettingback aboard his vessel and turning in. As he stood up to go, he said:"'Tis said you like a little sea trip now and again? Why don't you gohome with me in the _Sirius_?"

I was pleased at that--he was known to be not over-free with hisinvitations--and I thanked him, but on my not saying yes or no at oncehe looked chagrined; seeing which, I explained that early that fall hiscousin had invited me, if ever I cared to return to Boston by water, totake passage with him on the _Orion_. 

He tried to smile. He was a whale of a man, bashful in his ways. Hesmiled like an overgrown boy who had done something there was no harm inbut of which he was ashamed. "He always appears to be gettin' in aheado' me, don't he?" he said, wistfully-like, after a moment, which hurriedme into saying: "But I never said I'd go with him, captain, and heprobably thinks he knows me too well to ask me now. I want to go withyou, captain, and"--I made up my mind then and there--"I will--and proudto have you ask me. "

"Good!" 'Twas a real smile now. "And if the _Orion_ hauls out with usyou may see a wet passage, and maybe a bit of excitement of one kind oranother before we make Boston Light. "

We shook hands on the hope of a fast run to Boston, and then, drawingfrom my suit-case a package of receipts, coal memoranda, and so on, Iheld them up. "For the _Orion_, captain. Where do you suppose I'll findyour cousin this time of night to give them to him?"

"Where but the Tidewater where that girl is?"

I stopped to put one thing to another. "And he is after that red-hairedRose, too?"

"What else?"

"But doesn't she know, or doesn't her uncle know, that he's a wife inBoston?"

"Her uncle!" he snorted. "He's no more wit than my ship's cat. "

"But Drislane knows--won't he tell her?"

"He don't seem to. A proud one, Drislane. Six months he's been with menow in the _Sirius_, and if she isn't sure she wants him above anybodyelse on this earth, then she needn't have him, that's all; or leastwise, that's how I sense him. He wouldn't take no odds of the devil, thatlad. "

I could believe that; and it set me to thinking. 

"Maybe you're thinkin' now, " he went on, "that she should be able to seefor herself what my cousin is? But what training has she had to judge o'men? What other kind does she see aught of in her uncle's place? Indeed, with her bringing up and what brains the poor girl has, she's done verywell, I'm thinkin', to ha' kept off the rocks as long as she has. Ahundred to one you'll find my fine cousin at the Tidewater to-night. ButI must be going. Good night to you. "

 * * * * *

Only the bartender was in the front room of the Tidewater, and he was sobusy peeking through a slide in the wall, the same through which hepassed the drink orders from the restaurant, that he did not hear mecome in. The door to the inner room was closed, but the low-poweredroars of people trying hard not to be noisy were oozing through. 

"What's doing?" I called to the bartender. I had to call it twice tomake him turn around. 

"It's the big captain of the _Orion_ and that little deck-handDrislane. "

Anybody taking Drislane for a joke always did get my goat. "He's not adeck-hand!" I bit out, "he's a seaman, and a good one. But what abouthim and Captain Sickles?"

"It's about him an' the boss's Rose. The captain begins to abuseDrislane somethin' fierce, an' he comes back at him. Then the captainbrings her into it. 'What would a girl be wantin' with a little runtlike you?' he says; and after that, 'I dunno but I'll take her to Bostonwith me this trip, ' and said it like he meant it. An' the littleDrislane he jumps into him two-handed, an' they're hard at it now. "

I squeezed inside the door of the inner room. "Man-to-man fashion!" Icould hear, in the powerful voice of Captain Oliver, while I wascrowding through the ring of people to the open space in the middle ofthe floor. "That's it--man fashion wi' the naked fists!" some scatteringvoices echoed. 

Man-to-man fashion! As if man could invent an unfairer scheme to settleprivate quarrels! Give a man heavy muscles and huge knuckles, toughhide and thick skull, add half the courage of a yellow dog, and how canhe lose at that game? The old-time duellists with their swords were ahundred times fairer. A long sword to his wrist and the smallest man hada chance; which is as it should be, or else we might as well pick someseven-foot, solid-skulled savage from out of the jungle and set him upfor king. 

Man to man! Drislane was five foot six and weighed, possibly, a hundredand thirty-five pounds, and was no boxer. Sickles was six foot three andweighed two-fifty. He had enormous muscles and knuckles of brass. Hishide was thick and hard as double-ought canvas. Drislane could havestood off and pounded on his ribs for a week and hardly black-and-bluedthem. He could have swung on him for a month and not knocked him over. 

It was the old-fashioned style of stand-up fighting. No regular roundswith a rest between. The men rushed and slugged and clinched and tugged, and when they fell, got up and went at it again. Always, when they wentto the floor, Sickles let his two hundred and fifty pounds drop limp andheavy on Drislane. Drislane would almost flatten out under it. Standingup, when Sickles's fist landed on him he would wince all over. He feltpain like a girl. 

It was slaughter. Blood, blood, blood; and the blood all on one side. For perhaps twenty times Drislane was knocked flat. If Sickles had onlythe explosive spark to go with those tremendous blows he wouldn't havehad to hit Drislane more than once. But he could only continue to knockthe little man flat; and knocking him flat often enough, the poundingfinally told. 

The time came when Drislane could not rise to his feet. He workedhimself up to one knee, with the big man waiting for him to look up sohe might deliver the blow more sweetly. Drislane, knowing to the fullwhat was coming, looked up and took all there was of it. 

This time he lay flat and quiet. The triumphant Sickles bent over him. "Y'are satisfied, are yuh?"

Sickles wasn't going to stop with beating him up. Drislane must proclaimhis conqueror's victory and his own defeat. Possibly he wanted the girlRose to hear it. She had been standing back on a box in the kitchendoorway and must have seen most of the fight. I was wondering how farthe joy of battle would mount in her primitive nature; but when I lookedup to note that, and how she took Drislane's beating, she had gone. 

"Are yuh? Speak up!--are yuh?" bellowed Sickles. 

Drislane by now could open his eyes. He looked up at his conqueror butwould not say the word. Sickles dug the toe of his shoe into his side. 

I had been waiting, half sick to my stomach, for a good excuse to buttin. I had marked, when I first came in, a piano-stool setting upsidedown atop of the piano to one side of the room. In these possiblyrough-house wind-ups it never does any harm to note where a few littlearticles of warfare may be picked up in a hurry. This piano-stool had atwo-inch oak seat. 

"You wunt, heh?" Sickles lifted his foot. 

"No, he won't!" I butted in, and as he straightened up to see who itwas, I went on: "And don't think I'll be foolish enough to go staving inmy good knuckles on you. See this little wherewithal I'm holding, andnot too loosely, by the wind'ard leg? You've a fine thick skull, butthis is thicker. One cute little wallop o' this amidships of your ears, and it's little you'll care whether you take the _Orion_ out on thefirst or the last of the flood-tide to-morrow. Let him be!"

Now, don't let anybody think I was making a play for any Carnegie medalthereby. I knew Oliver Sickles, and even better did I know his kind, whoonly go to battle when certain victory lies before them. The only chanceI was taking was with my firm's interests. It might be that he'd havesuch a grouch against me that he'd carry no more coal for my firm thanhe could help in future. 

He let him be. He put on his collar and coat, and received as his duethe applause of that crawling breed which are never by any chance seenshaking hands with anybody but a winner. While he was still at thehand-shaking I threw him his ship's papers. 

I had the bartender order a carriage, and while waiting I tried to cheerup Drislane. I told him that he must not think of going to sea next day, that I would see Captain Norman Sickles and get him off, and later gowith him to Boston by rail. 

He shook his head. He could hardly part his swollen lips to talk; andthen could only half whisper. "I'll sail to-morrow on the _Sirius_, " hesaid; and rolled his head over to see what Sickles was doing. 

Sickles was just then stepping through that kitchen doorway where buttwo minutes earlier Rose had been standing. Drislane closed his eyes;and then, as if he thought he had to show me he wasn't beaten, he openedthem and smiled. After I'd fully taken in that smile, I wished he hadcried. 

The bartender called through the slide that the carriage was waiting. Icarried out Drislane, drove him to my hotel, and called in a doctor. Between us we gave him a hot bath, salved and plastered him, and put himto bed. 

I turned in on a cot which I had had brought in. Hours after I heard himgroan. I switched on the light and went to him. He was lying on his sidewith his head on one arm. His hands were clinched. 

After a moment he said: "She is in trouble somewhere. " That was anotherone of the things he believed in--telepathy. 

He may or may not have had it right; but it certainly wasn't going to dohim any good to let him lie there and be torturing himself. "Sh-h--go tosleep, son. Don't imagine things. You'll find everything will be allright to-morrow, " I said. 

"No, " he said, "everything will never be all right while he's alive andI'm alive. "

That didn't sound good to me, so I sat down by the bed and began to talkto him. We talked, I doing the most of it, until past daylight. Wetalked of her. "She's all right, " he said at last, "I tell you she is. Even if she didn't like me and did him, it would be only natural. Butshe likes me--the best of her likes me better than him, and when shegets to know him all of her will like me. You'll see. "

There were people who used to say Drislane was so innocent as to be ajoke; but after that talk into that wintry dawn I had to salute him. Hehad just a little something on all of us who were so much moreworldly-wise. It surely was a great gift he had--to see in every womanonly the shining soul. 

IV

No man could say where the word came from, no man could say that he hadseen her himself; but the word was out that Oliver Sickles had boardedhis vessel in the early morning with the red-haired girl of theTidewater Caf� in tow. 

Nobody on the _Sirius_ ever intended to pass the word to Drislane, butno crew of a vessel can be whispering for hours without the one man theydon't discuss the mysterious matter with wanting to guess what it isthey are trying to keep from him. Drislane guessed. 

I had brought him to the _Sirius_ in a carriage just before she sailed. Captain Norman had told him to keep to his bunk until the _Sirius_ tiedup to the dock in Boston if he wished, but Drislane did not wish. Hecame on deck, still bandaged and battered, on the first morning out, tostand his watch. A word blown across the deck, when he was thought to bestill in his bunk below, halted him in his walk aft. He turned andstared at the man who was speaking, whereupon followed such a sudden andfoolish twist to the conversation that he might just as well have beentold. 

Throughout his trick at the wheel Drislane said nothing, but everymoment the compass could spare his eyes saw them roaming across to wherethe _Orion_, like ourselves, was plugging through the short green seasfor home. When his watch was done he borrowed my glasses, climbed bypainful relays to the masthead and trained them on the _Orion_. After hecame down and had gone below, I went aloft and spent the rest of themorning trying to see what it was that Drislane may have seen on thedeck of Oliver Sickles's vessel. 

Was it a woman's head showing above the cabin companionway? or was it aman passenger Oliver Sickles had taken aboard at the last minute? If aman, he surely was no seagoer; for in the two hours that I watched henever once stepped out on deck. He leaned dejectedly, or it might bepatiently, but, either way, motionless as a stanchion against thecompanion casing, his soft flapping hat and the shoulders of a loosecoat showing just above the woodwork. Man or woman, the face was pointedsteadily toward the _Sirius_. 

Our captain said it was a passenger of some kind. It had to be, hesaid, because during the morning he had kept an eye on the _Orion's_deck and accounted for every man of her crew, which numbered exactly thesame as his own; even for the cook, who had shown himself on deck toheave a bucket of galley refuse over the rail. It could not be an extrahand shipped for the trip, because no hand would be allowed to stand onthe cabin stairs. 

And did he think it was a man or a woman? The shoulders in the loosecoat looked wide enough to be a man's. And I looked at him and he at me. So was Drislane's Rose big enough for a man, but we said no more of thatthen--Drislane had just come on deck and was making his way aft. Againhe borrowed my glasses, went aloft, and trained them on the _Orion_. From time to time he looked down to the man at the wheel, as if to hintto him to get a little nearer the _Orion_, but the man at the wheel hadalready got a quiet word from the captain. We were to leeward. "Keepoff--keep off--off--off--!" Captain Norman was saying in a low voice tothe helmsman. "Don't let her get any nearer, leastwise while he's aloftwith the glasses. "

It looked as if we would have to wait to get to Boston to settle thequestion. Meantime, if Drislane would only try to forget everything ofshore matters, he might be getting great comfort of a run like this. Ifhe were himself, he would by now, being half in the way of a poet andhalf hoping some day to be an artist, be drawing little water-colors andwriting little rhymes of these two big schooners racing home together. 

'Twould have been well worth his paint and paper. The _Orion_ and the_Sirius_ were two of the best in their class and more trimly modelledthan most. What the _Orion_ looked like we must have looked like, andshe was something I used to spend whole watches on deck just looking at. She carried an open rail amidships, and her white-painted stanchions, carved to hour-glass form, with the white-painted flat hand-rail atop, stood clearly, sharply, beautifully out above her black lower sides andthe pale-green seas. 

Not that either of us had much lower planking to show, for four thousandfive hundred tons of coal had brought us pretty well down to ourscuppers. Too deep-loaded for our best looks, some would say; but Idon't know--with all her jibs and all whole sail to her five lowerspars, we must have looked pretty good, the pair of us, plugging alongtogether through the curling rollers. We had set no topsails orstaysails, because they would not have stayed on, blowing as it was agood half-gale. 

[Illustration: The _Orion_ proved to us that she was faster off the windthan we were by rounding Cape Cod before us. ]

It could have been blowing twice a gale and nothing happened to eitherof us. Probably no stiffer class of vessels sails the seas than the bigcoasters of our side of the North Atlantic. Give them plenty of ballastand there is no capsizing them. We surely had plenty of ballast in usnow, and took cheerfully all the hard westerly had to give us, andfoamed along. Foamed? We wallowed--like a couple of sailing submarinesalmost. In that wind and sea, with all that loose water sloshing aroundher deck, there was no careless standing around of course; but withrubber boots to your hips, a good oil-slicker to your back, and yourselflashed to something solid up to wind'ard, it was a great place for a manto let the wind blow away three months of coal-dust from his eyelids;and what the wind couldn't blow away the sea would surely wash out. 

That loose water flopping around her deck--that was no harm. "Tarpaulinher hatches, clamp 'em down, and let her roll!"--that had been CaptainNorman's word coming out of Hampton Roads. And "Batten her down and lether plug into it!" had come roaring across to us at almost the samemoment from the deck of the _Orion_. And no more than into the openAtlantic than we were plugging into it. The sea came mounting up overour low lee-rails--up, up our swash-swept decks, clear across ussometimes, when for a moment a doubtful helmsman would let her ship anextra cargo. But, again, no harm in that. Let 'em slosh and let 'emroll--we were standing up, the pair of us, like two brick houses. Andthe rest didn't matter. And so almost forgetting Drislane's trouble inthe strain of the race, we batted our way through the winter seas onwhich the sun was dancing--batted and slatted, plugged and slugged ourway beside the _Orion_ for the New England coast. 

Two vessels may be built alike and rigged alike, but that doesn't meanthey will sail alike. The _Orion_, in the judgment of seafaring folk, was a shade faster reaching and running than the _Sirius_. At any rate, the _Orion_ proved to us that she was faster off the wind than we wereby rounding Cape Cod before us. To there it had been a good passage. Nocollier loaded to her scuppers is ever going to break any sailingrecords, but hard driving had brought the pair of us along at a goodclip. So far, fine; but it was to be a beat to windward for the rest ofthe way. West-north-west is the course from Cape Cod to Boston, andwest-north-west was where the wind was coming from when it hit us on thenose as we rounded the Cape. 

The _Orion_ might outrun us, the _Sirius_, but to windward there was nodifference except in their masters; and there we had the best of it. Norman Sickles could get more out of a vessel than his cousin when thegoing was bad. Oliver used to claw around deck like a sore-headed bear, and every now and then go below and have a drink for himself when thingsweren't breaking right. Norman took things more quietly, and so takingthem wasn't too busy to grab every little chance that bobbed up. 

The _Orion_ stood off on one tack, we on the other, and by and by welost her below the horizon; but standing in, after some hours found heragain; and finding her, were pleased to see that we had made upsomething on her. We filled away once more, and by and by stood back toher. We were making distance fast. Had we held on we would have crossedher wake almost under her stern on that tack. On our next tack we wouldbe crossing her bow, and it would then be on past the lightship in thelead, and the race over; for neither of us was going to tack up thechannel, deep-loaded, against a tide which would soon be ebbing. Up atthe harbor entrance two tugs had already seen that and were racing outto pick us up. 

To more quickly get in tow of the tug nearest us, which was cominghooked up for us, our captain put the _Sirius_ about earlier than hehad originally intended. As we tacked, so did the _Orion_. We stood intoward the harbor. The _Orion_ stood in toward the harbor. We weresurely going to pass close to each other--very close. Altogether tooclose. 

I didn't like the looks of things. Being a passenger, I had a mind freefor other things than navigation. "In case of doubt who gives way--the_Orion_ or the _Sirius_?" I asked Captain Norman. "Why, she does, " hesaid, surprised. "It has to be her--not us. Both of us close-hauled, butwe being starboard tack have the right of way. He'll have to come aboutand give us the road. "

"But suppose, captain, he will not give way?"

"What! not give way! That'd be foolish. He c'n go bulling his way onshore all he pleases, but out here he'll only get what's due him. He'llhave to give way. "

So Norman Sickles said, but he wasn't the man to lose his vessel or riskmen's lives. The _Orion_ was holding on. She was going to force us. WhenNorman Sickles saw that, he motioned with his arm for the man at ourwheel to keep off. But the _Sirius_ wasn't keeping off. Norman Sicklesturned and yelled: "Keep her off--off--off, I say!" starting aft, at thesame time, to take the wheel himself. 

He was too late. They seemed drawn together. We took a shoot. The_Orion_ took a shoot. "Damned if she didn't get away from him!" Iremember hearing one of our fellows jerk out, but I remember also I wasleft wondering whether he meant our vessel or the _Orion_. 

They rushed together and g-g-h-h! Talk of a smash! Forty-five hundredtons of coal, nine-tenths of it below the water-line, and a breeze ofwind! Either one would have sunk a battle-ship. It shook the spars outof the _Orion_. Her after-mast came down, the next one came down, theothers were swaying. "The boat--the boat!" her crew yelled, but takinganother look up at those wabbling masts, they waited to launch no boat. With few words but much action, they went over her side, one after theother, and began to claw out for the _Sirius_, on which--she was sinkingtoo--our crew had a big quarter-boat ready to launch. 

While the two vessels were still locked in collision I had seen Drislanecome running from aft and leap into the _Orion_. I lost sight of himthen, because with our captain I had jumped below into our cabin, he tosave his ship's papers and I to save my firm's. We were on deck in timeto get into our boat, and help pick up the crew of the _Orion_ in thewater. 

Looking for Drislane then, I saw him and Captain Oliver Sickles at eachother's throats in the stern of the _Orion_. There wasn't much left ofher above water then. And on her deck it was a mess of fallen spars, with her foremast the only stick left, and that--unsupported bybackstays and the wind still pressing against the big sail--that waswabbling. Even as we looked it came down--lower and top parts--with asmash which snapped the topmast off and sent it twisting and gyrating towhere, after a bound or two, it rolled down and pinned to the deck thetwo battling men in the stern. With it came a tangled mess of halyardsand stays. 

We had picked up all of the _Orion's_ crew from the water and were nowhurrying to get to the two men on the _Orion_, which was fast settling, when a red-haired girl came running from the cabin companionway. Almostas if she had been waiting in ambush, she rushed over to the fallenspar, untangled the halyards from the legs of one of the furthest men, and after an effort lifted the end of the spar so that he could scramblefree. She needed to be strong to do that; but she was strong. If she hadheld the spar up only an instant longer, the other man might havewiggled free too. But she let it drop back. The man she had freed shepicked up and carried to the quarter-rail, where she waited for us inthe boat. He made an effort as if to get back to the man left under thespar, but she would not let him. "Tain't no crime, Honey, " I heard hersay as we got to them. She went overboard as she said it, and we had tohurry to get her. "I know him a heap better than you-all, Honey--let himrest where he done fall to. "

She couldn't swim, but we got them in time. She didn't mind us in theleast. "He done tol' me, Honey, you was dyin' abo'd yo' ship 'n' o'coase I goes on down to see. It sure did look like yo' own ship, Honey"--she was saying to him before we had them both fairly in theboat. It was Drislane she had, his head cuddled on her knees till thetug came and got us. 

We weren't in time to get to the man she had left behind. The last wesaw of him was his head sticking out like a turtle's from under thefallen spar as the _Orion_ went under. 

 * * * * *

We were all in Boston by Christmas Eve; that is, all of course butOliver Sickles--and nobody gibed at his memory for that. He had his goodreason. 

The tug rushed the two crews up the harbor to our dock, where I leftthem while I went to get carriages and warm clothes and so on. When Icame back Drislane and his Rose were gone and no word behind them. Butthe day after Christmas he came to the office early to get hissemiannual check and cash it. I wasn't there, but he left word for methat he and Rose were married, and he was going to take my advice and gohome to his people. The office force said that with him was a girl ofglorious Titian hair and super-physique, who smiled wonderfully on him. 

Captain Norman married the girl he should have married in the firstplace. And so all the good people came happy out of it; all except ourfirm. Nine thousand tons at two dollars per ton--there was eighteenthousand dollars' worth of freights that we never collected. 

 * * * * *

So there's the _Orion_ and _Sirius_ thing, only, in telling it at theSailor's Haven the other night, our old stevedore didn't say anything ofRose's part in it. He probably didn't see what that had to do with it. However, he said enough to convince the lecturer, who was a prettyfair-minded kind, that perhaps he would have to reconstruct his viewsabout sailors' superstitions. 

And perhaps there is something in it; but it's a poor case won't standhearing both sides of the evidence. "Hoodoo ships!" It's a fascinatingphrase, but--Oliver Sickles it was who held the wheel of the _Orion_, and it was Drislane to the wheel of the _Sirius_, when they cametogether. 

[Illustration: It was Drislane she had, his head cuddled on her kneestill the tug came and got us. ]

LEARY OF THE "LIGONIER"

It was a gloomy house, set in the shadow of a rocky bluff, and made moregloomy within by the close-drawn curtains. Since the news had come ofthe loss of John Lowe's son, no man in all Placentia Bay could say hehad seen those curtains raised; and, so ran the gossip, John Lowe beingwhat John Lowe was, a long time again before those curtains would beraised. 

John Lowe sat reading his black-typed, double-columned page by thetable, and over by the stove John Lowe's second wife sat rockingherself. 

John Lowe's daughter came in, removed her shawl, and took a chair on theother side of the stove. Her stepmother spoke a word; but no word ofgreeting did her father offer until his chapter was finished, and thenhe no more than half turned, while his harsh voice asked: "Has he comeinto the bay yet?"

"He has. Tim Lacy, that shipped wi' him out o' here, was to Shepperd'sto-day--and he'll be to Shepperd's to-night, Tim says. "

"Tim Lacy. Another o' his kin. And what would be bringin' him toShepperd's to-night?"

"It will be a dance to-night. "

"Oh, the dancin'! No fear but you'll know o' the dancin'. An' he'll bethere, the drinkin', murderin'----"

"It's no' right, father, to be speakin' like that o' a man you never seteyes on. "

"An' how come it you know him, girl? Where was it you had truck wi' him?Where?"

"I never had truck wi' him. But I see him. Who could help seein' him--hewas in an' out o' Shepperd's his last time in. "

"Well, take care you see him no more. An'--" A step outside the doorcaused John Lowe to pause. 

"Ah-h--" John Lowe almost smiled. 

His wife glanced at the clock. "It will be the trader, " she explained. 

"Aye, an' now we'll ha' the news--now we'll ha' the news. "

A knock followed the step, and, following the knock, the door opened andin stepped the expected trader. No wild daredevil, no sail carrier this, but a smooth, passionless man of business. And he got right down tobusiness. 

"By dawn, John Lowe, there'll be two hundred men of the bay drawn up onHalf-Tide Beach. And an hour later the _Ligonier_ and all's in her willbe lyin' on the bottom of the bay--or so"--he glanced doubtfully at thegirl--"or so we planned it. Will you be there, John Lowe?"

"He'll no' be there, Mr. Lackford. " Mrs. Lowe half rose from her chair. 

John Lowe glared at her. "And since when is it for you to say I'll notbe there?"

"I'm your lawful wife, John Lowe. And who is this man would tell youwhat to do? You read your Bible night and morn, John Lowe, and you tellme and you tell Bess we should read it, too, and all the bay knows it. An' how can you preach to us as you do an' join in this deed? 'Righteousshall be all my days, ' say you, an' you think o' joinin' a band thatwill sink an' destroy--yes, an' mayhap kill in the morning. ThisAmerican has as much right to what herrin' his men can ketch as anybodyelse. "

John Lowe turned to the trader. "She's right, Mr. Lackford, she'sright. "

"You'll not be with us?"

"I can't. "

"After all you said! Well, there will be enough without you. " He wasstill addressing John Lowe, but it was on the woman his eyes were bent. "Only let me carry back the word you'll not be against us. "

"No, no--I'll not be against you. "

"That's enough. Good night. "

"Good night. "

The door closed. They listened to the crunching of the trader'sboot-heels on the pebbly beach outside. 

"They'll be killing, mayhaps, in the morning, and it's well for you tobe clear of it, John Lowe. "

"But he lost my son. "

"It was a natural death for a fisherman, John Lowe, to be lost thatway. "

"But what reason to love him for it?"

"What reason ha' ye to hate him till you know more of him?"

Silence reigned again in the kitchen; silence until John Lowe set asidehis book and made for the stairs. With his foot on the bottom step hepaused and sighed. "Even after three months it's no' easy to bear. Butyou're right, wife, it's no' right what some of them be up to. "

"No, it's no' right. An' he's not the man Lackford an' the others wouldha' you believe, John. "

He looked long at his wife. "No? No doubt no--but no stop to it now. Ifthere was a way to slip a word and not be known for it; but there's noway. Come to bed, woman. But"--the girl was standing up--"where be youoff to?"

The girl looked to her stepmother; and the stepmother answered for her. 

"It's o'er-early for bed yet--she's goin' for an hour to Shepperd's, John. Go on, Bess, but don't stay too long. "

The girl snatched her shawl and hurried out. 

"And is't so you manage her, woman?"

"Let be, man, let be. She's no child to be managed--your way o'managin'. Why shouldn't she have her little pleasure? What's one herefor? Prayers an' psalms, prayers an' psalms----"

"An' do you rail against the prayin'?"

"Not me. Prayin's for good, no doubt; but all of us hasn't the sin soblack that it needs prayin' night an' day to burn it out. "

He glared at her. "An' you're waitin' up for her?"

"I am. "

"Some night you'll wait o'er-long, woman. "

"No, no. She's young, is Bess, and a bit soft. But no bad--no, no, nobad in Bess. She's all we ha' left now, John--lay a light hand to her. "

II

Up to old man Shepperd's the dance was on, and Bess Lowe was there; andnot long before the American captain blew through the door; and nodreary passage of time before he spied Bess. 

"Why, Bess, God bless you, how are you? And you ain't forgot? And do Iget a dance this evenin' or no? Tell me, do I, now? Ay, that'syou--hard-hearted as ever. Eyes to light a vessel to port, but never asoft look in 'em. "

"My eyes, Captain Leary?"

"Ay, your eyes, Bess. Eyes, Bess, that the likes of never looked acrossthe bay before--eyes that flash out from the dark like twin shore-lightswhen a man's been weeks to sea. "

"Oh, Captain Leary!" breathed Bess; and presently took to sighing, andfrom sighing to smiling, and all at once burst out into such laughterthat the whole company took notice; whereat a huge, surly man in acorner went into the back room. 

"Gi' me one drink and I'll smash him into bits, " the big man said toLackford, the trader, who was standing guard in the back room over thelittle jug which Shepperd kept handy for his guests. 

"What, now? No. Not now, please, not now. There'll be plenty of chancesfor fighting in the morning. The crowd is only waiting for daylight tomake a move. They want you. Come on now, do, and get a good night'ssleep so's to be feeling good in the morning. Come on now. And you'llhave two hundred men at your back in the morning, remember; andremember, too, that after you've put the American out of the way all thegirls in the bay'll fall to your hand. "

The big man was diverted, and passed out with Lackford, meantime thatLeary, with an arm half around the girl's waist, was pleading: "The nextdance for me, hah, Bess?"

"Ay, captain--who could deny you?" and they went at it. 

'Twas a shuffling across the floor, a whirling of buxom partners byhusky men, who never omitted to mark the measure with the thump ofboot-heels that jumped the dust from cellar to roof. Shouting, stamping, joking, smiling, with quick breathing--such joy entirely it was, withTim Lacy, oilskinned and jack-booted, leading the swing across thefloor. Yes, and back again, although on him, even as on Leary, oldShepperd looked with disapproving eye. 

"A wonder, Tim Lacy, you wouldn't leave your gear on your vessel, " hesnorted. 

"Sure, an' I'm on my way to the vessel now, an' she'll be leavin' thebay for the States in the mornin'. "

"You think she will, " amended Shepperd, from behind the musician, whowas his own strong-lunged daughter Sue. 

On a chair atop of a fish-box in one corner was balanced Sue, a nativegenius, who puffed most industriously into a musical instrument made ofa sheet of tissue-paper wrapped around a fine-tooth comb. 

Tim Lacy, though he never let on, caught the sly remark. Less guilelessthan he looked was Lacy, a little man, forever lighting his pipe. Hestruck another match now, and between puffs delivered a belated message. So many years senior was Lacy to his skipper that he used to talk to himlike a father. 

"You know, as you said yourself, we was to hurry, Sammie--and do comenow, Sammie"--_puff_--"and hurry on"--_puff_--"to Half-TideBeach"--_puff_--"and there we'll take the dory for the vessel. Ah-h, there she's goin'. No, drat her, she's out again! Hurry on, boy. Weoughtn't be standin' here all night. The crew'll be waitin' for us wi'the vessel at Caplin Cove. A special word they left for you, Sammie. They says if you was here"--here Tim stepped close and whispered--"ashow I was to tell you they're feared for trouble. "

He peered over the flame of the last-lit match at his skipper. 

"'Tell him, Tim, ' they says to me, 'that if we're to get the last o' theherrin' aboard that they're afeard it'll have to be an early start. ' Imisdoubt"--_puff_--"they have a notion of how there was goin' to betrouble. So come on; do, boy. "

"One more, Tim; one more dance before we break up. A crime to go out ona cold night like this and not have a farewell dance. Come on, Bess;what d'y' say? There's the girl!"

Tim was gone, but back and forth Sam and Bess sidled and stamped, andmany another minute passed with Sam still whirling his able-bodiedpartner, pacing her across and back again, lifting her off her feet, andswinging her--one, two, three full circles off the floor. And Sam wasthe boy could do it, a hundred and seventy pounds though she weighed, and continued to whirl her after the last dance till they were out ofthe room and into the shadows of the porch, where he snatched her up andkissed her fair. 

The girl's heart leaped out to him. Did ever such a man make landing inthe bay before? And surely he must think the world of her? Tendernessfor him overwhelmed her; and out under the stars she whispered the wordsof warning in his ear. 

"What's it, Bess? You're not foolin'? The trader to the head of them?"

"Ay, an' they'll be at Half-Tide Beach afore the sun rises----"

"D'y' mean, Bessie, d'y' mean----"

"I mean all that's bad they'll do to you, Sammie. I heard 'em my ownself. 'What right has this American to come here and take the herrin'from our very doors? What right?' That's the way the trader talked to'em in the back room afore you came in. 'In the old days I've seen menbeat to death on the beach for less, ' I heard 'em through the bulkhead. 'Ay, an' their vessels run up on the rocks somewhere, ' he goes on. An'it's you, Sammie, they has in mind. "

"And the crew to Caplin Cove, an' only me and Tim to stand by thevessel. The vessel and her full hold. But who'll get the word to them?If only there was some one, some one we could trust, Bess!"

"There is one that could do that, too, boy. "

"Who? What! Yourself, Bess? Could you make where they are--CaplinCove--alone, and by night--and tell 'em what's in the wind, so they'llbe aboard in time, while I go and hurry after Tim Lacy to the vessel atHalf-Tide Harbor? Could a woman like a man well enough to do that?"

"Well, women likes men sometimes, Sammie. "

"God bless you, Bess, of course. And sometimes, too, a man likes--But, Bess!" She lay swaying in the hollow of his arm. "Bessie!"--and oh, thenearness of him! "I don't want to fool you, girl--we _was_ carryin' sailthe night your brother Simon was lost. A livin' gale, and she buttin'into it with a whole mains'l--you won't hold that agin' me?"

"How could I, Sammie? A man that's a man at all is bound to carry sailat times. And fishermen, sail-carryin' or no sail-carryin', they comesand goes. "

"Ay, girl, and sometimes goes quicker than they comes. Oh, Bess, thefine men I've been shipmates with! And now 'twould take a chart of allthe banks 'tween Hatteras and Greenland to find out where the bones ofthe half of 'em lie. "

"But do go now, Sammie. " She snuggled closer to him. "Have a care now, for I'm lovin' you now, Sammie. "

"Ay, you are. And I'm lovin' you, Bess. But your father, Bess; he'll putyou out. "

"Well, if he do----"

"If he do, Bess, you know who'll be waitin' for you. "

"Ay, I do. An' I'll come to you, too, no fear, boy. But no matter aboutJohn Lowe now, boy, so you won't forget me, Sammie. "

"Never a forget, Bessie. "

"Then hold me again, Sammie, afore we part. And don't forget--never aman afore did I like like I likes you, Sammie. "

 * * * * *

And Bess had gone and delivered her message to Leary's crew at CaplinCove. "Be all hands aboard afore dawn and have her ready to sail, " wasBessie's message, and with that put off for home in her father's littlesloop. There had been stars on her run over, bright, cheerful stars thatmade you overlook the frost in the air, but no stars now. But that wasthe way of the weather in the bay. 

In the lee of Shingle Spit it was calm enough, and so, for all the boomof the sea outside, Bess had time for revery. A gran' figur' of a man, Sammie Leary. Strong he was. Ay, strong. An' not stern. Lord knows, there was enough of that to home. No, no, saft-like same as Sammie--thatwas the kind for a woman to love. 

And Sammie now. Out under the shadow of the porch he had said: "You'rethe lass for me. " Ay, he did. But so many talked like that and meantnaught by it, but took your kiss and your heart wi' the kiss and sailedaway, and you never again see 'em, mayhap. There was Jessie Mann, and--Oh, no matter them. Sammie was none o' their kind o' men. An'yet--there were those who said that one like Sammie never made a goodhusband. Sailed wi' too free a sheet, he did. An' yet, did ever a vesselget anywhere without a free sheet at times?

And, thinking of a free sheet, Bess gave the little sloop a foot or twomore of main-sheet. And there she was going through the water faster forit. And she would need to go fast through the water if so be she was toget home this night. And if she didn't get home--but 'twas o'er-early toworry about what her father would say. 

But was it all so true about a free sheet? Was it no' true that, holdin'a vessel's nose to the wind, she'd sail her course wi' never a foot o'leeway? 'Twas so her father maintained. Always safest to be on thestraight course, her father held. True enough, but wi' the wind ahead, what headway? None at all--while, if you let them run off a bit, whenthey did come back on the course they was farther on the road, arterall. Ay, so it was. And Sammie? What did the poor boy ever know of ahome or a lovin' heart to guide him! Oh, ay, women should makeallowances for men like Sammie. 'Twas the good heart in him. 

Out beyond the end of the spit the little boat began to feel thepressure of the wind and the thump of the sea. She jumped so becausethere wasn't much ballast in her. An' there was the matter o' ballastnow. A gran' thing in a vessel, a bit o' ballast--like religion in abody. Not all religion, like her father, for then 'twas like a vesselloaded down wi' ballast--took a gale o' wind to stir her, and a vesselo' that kind was no mortal use whatever--except mayhap for a lightshipor something o' that kind. 

The sea by now was coming inboard regularly, and Bess knew she shouldbe carrying less sail; but it would mean a lot of time to reef themainsail, and if she was to get on there was small time for reefing, 'specially as the wind was hauling to the east. A beat home now, asCaptain Leary warned her, 'twould be. Surely she would never be home bydaylight now. And colder now it was. Ay, it was. She drew the tarpaulinover her knees, and that helped to keep off the spray which, as itsplashed up from her bows, was carried aft in sheets before everysquall. 

And those squalls were frequent. And little pellets of hail werethickening the air. And over the tarpaulin that covered her the ice wasmaking. Sailin' by the wind, 'tis terrible cold. She was becomingdrowsy--hard work to keep from falling asleep. Good enough for her--ay, good enough, her father would say--dancin' half the night and carryin'messages to strangers the other half. 

The air softened and that was some relief; but in place of the awfulcold--and still cold enough--was now the snow. And in that snow-storm, with the wind continually veering, she knew at last she must have runoff her course; for the sound of the surf beating against the rocks cameto her. 

And what would that be? What now? Ay, Shark's Fin Ledge it must be. Shemust ha' sailed wi' too free a sheet, arter all. Ay, she must ha'. Timeto come about now. But not so much sail on! Well, sail or no sail, itwas time to come about. About she was comin'--ay--she was--no!--ay----

Over came the boom, and then high it skied, and then the wind took itand slit the sail from boom to gaff and off to leeward went the sloop. 

Too much sheet that time, thought poor Bess, and could have cried atherself. And might have cried if she had nothing else to do. But no timenow. Her little sloop was rolling and pitching in the seas, anddrifting, always drifting; and in that snow there was no seeing how fastshe was drifting in to the ledge; but fast enough, no doubt. 

No use wailing over it. Bess took to bailing, and the work kept her fromthinking overmuch of herself; only she couldn't help picturing herfather with his Bible, and her stepmother waiting up for her. AndSammie? Never another dance or kiss from Sammie. And oh, the blackdisgrace of it if she was lost in the bay, when maybe they found herbody ground to pieces on the ledge! There would be those who wouldsay--what wouldn't they say--of her that couldn't hide her likin' forhim up to the dance at Shepperd's?

III

The tail of the night found Leary striding over the hills. "Going toheave her herrin' overboard, are they? And she'll never clear for home, hah? She won't, eh?" And over the hills he ran. In and out, up and down, over the crests, and at last down the tangled slope across moss-grownrocks where lay the tide-tossed kelp, and onto the beach, where in thedawn he came suddenly on them. 

A great shout went up when they were certain 'twas he; and down upon himpresently they bore. 

"Two hundred of 'em, maybe, " calculated Leary, and looked wistfullytoward where his vessel should have been laying to anchor. "If I weren'tsuch a hand for skylarkin' she'd be lay-in' there now with Tim Lacystandin' by the old six-pounder, and she loaded to the muzzle with nailsand one thing and another, ready to sweep the beach of 'em. " Andsomewhat sadly he waited for the mob; and, waiting, wondered how Besswas making out, for the squalls were chasing each other off the hills, and out beyond the little harbor, all whitecapped, lay the open bay. 

As a sea sweeps up and buries the lone rock under its surge, so did itseem to Leary that the mob must overwhelm him as he stood there aloneon the beach. Annihilation! Their gestures and imprecations, as theydrew near, implied nothing less. "Well, let it come!" and from his mindflew all but one clear idea. He would deal them all the damage he couldbefore they overbore him; and if under their heels on the sand theystrove to crush the life out of him, he would reach up and grasp as manyas his arms would circle. 

And then he heard the hail from behind him. He flashed a look. Yes, there was the vessel, and it was Tim Lacy calling. She was coming intothe wind. Her jibs were down by the run. Ay, and there was the rattlingof her chain-anchor. 

"Skipper, oh, skipper, " came the hail again, and he heard the hoistingof a dory. To one hand was the mob which meant his destruction; to theother hand by the open water to the vessel if he could make it. He hadfarther to go than they, but they were mostly in oilskins, and he was ararely active man. That he knew. Away he went over the little bowlders. 

Diagonally he had to go. A straight parallel to the beach it was forthem. Fast as he was, some of them would intercept his way to theincoming dory. Three, four, perhaps a dozen would be there before him. 

A dozen it was, and one huge man and Lackford, with no oilskins tohamper them, were in the front; and because they were in front they feltthe force of Leary's arm. It would have been joy to stop and battle withthem all, but that wasn't saving the vessel. He caught one with onehand, and one with the other--and it was so easy and so satisfying!

But that wouldn't be making Bess happy by and by. There were two morethat he could have reached, but those two he dodged. But two now betweenhim, and he was for stopping to box with them--the battle fever wasgetting him--but a voice came to him: "Don't stop for them, skipper. Come on. We're here. "

Leary turned and saw, and raced for the water's edge. A wide leap and hewas in the dory. They tore after him, minding not the fallen bodies intheir eagerness. Up to their waists in the water they rushed with yellsof rage. Stones came flying after him. A few struck him, but they weretoo small to do damage. 

From the dory Leary faced them again. "That's you--two hundred ofyou--you spawn of dogfish. "

"Blast 'em, Sammie, don't talk to them. Out oars, Ned, and drive her!Here's the kind of talk for the likes of them!" and between hisskipper's arm and body Tim Lacy from behind thrust an old-fashionedheavy dragoon pistol. "Only one shot in her, but make that one good;here y'are, Sammie. "

Leary's fingers curled about the stock of it, and it felt pleasant tothe touch. Yet for all that he thrust it back, but as he did so Tim'sdory-mate tumbled down beside Leary in the dory. On the bottom of thedory the jagged rock was rolling even as the blood welled from histemple. And then came a report--another, and a third; and with the thirda bullet whizzed close. 

"Blast you all!" shrieked Leary, and with a leg either side of thefallen man's body he held the pistol waist-high. "Come on now! Come onnow, I say! _You_, and _you_, and _you_, you white-livered----"

"After him--drag him out of the dory!"

"Ay, drag me out! Come you and drag me out!" And threatening variouslywith his pistol, Leary pointed directly at what seemed to be a newleader, a man with a revolver. "And let me tell you"--he pointed to thearmed man--"whoever you are, you round-shouldered, glue-eyed squid you, whoever goes, you go first. Mind that--whatever happens, _you_ go first. I've got _you_, you pop-eyed, slit-mouthed dogfish--and now shootagain. "

The man with the revolver shrank back; but Leary's pistol was stilltrained on him, and farther and farther he shrank until he melted intothe body of the crowd. 

In the rear of the crowd were those who struggled to get nearer. "Whydon't you go after him down there?" they yelled. "Or let us do it? Oneman against you all! Why don't you pull him out of the dory?"

"Ay, pull him out! Send him to hell!" roared another. 

"Well, send me to hell, " retorted Leary--"maybe I've got friends inhell, too!"

Back onto the beach receded the mob. Leary turned to his mate. "To thevessel, Tim--and drive her!"

By the time they reached the vessel's deck the injured man came to. Acup of coffee and five minutes by the fire and he was ready to turn to, but Leary turned him into a bunk instead. "We've men enough withoutyou--a full crew. Lie down, boy, and go to sleep. " Which he did. 

"Now, fellows, make sail. Drive her. The trader an' that whole crowd, they'll be after us soon in their jacks. Come on--lively--there's thirtysail of 'em ready to round the point! An', Tim?"

"Ay, Sammie. "

"Get out that old salutin' six-pounder and lash it for'ard o' thewindlass. Lash her hard so she won't kick overboard when she's fired. "

"Ay, Sammie, " and Lacy hurried off. 

"And now, up with the jibs. And then mains'l--we've lost a lot of timealready. With her four lowers and those squalls shootin' off the highhills from the other side of the bay, she'll soon have wind enough. Andwe've got to be out of here before the snow sets in. A bad place here inthick weather. Drive her, fellows--drive her!"

They were swaying up the mainsail when Leary happened to look over hisshoulder. With the wind of the frequently recurring squalls taking holdof the great sail, they had a hard task to get it up; but at last it wasset; and then they trimmed in the main-sheet, while Leary ran forward tothe howitzer. 

"What you got to load it with, Tim?"

"There's black powder enough, Sammie. "

"But we want to do something more than salute 'em, Tim. "

"M-m--there's the soundin' leads, Sammie. "

"Get 'em!" And Tim went and came back with a deep-sea lead which herammed in after a hatful or so of powder. 

When all was ready four inches of the lead stuck out of the muzzle. 

"No matter; you'll do, " Leary commented, and cast another look towardthe open water of the bay where were now twenty-five or thirty smallschooners rounding the headland. 

Leary now contemplated the anchor chain of his vessel. 

"I hate to lose you, 'specially like this, but--" And without furtherword he reduced the chain to one turn of the windlass. "And now let allhands tuck away under the rail, all but one man to go aloft and look outfor a small white sloop. " And he took the wheel, where he was needed, for the squalls, in full force, were now whistling battle-hymns fromdeck to truck. 

The fleet of jacks were now to be seen coming on rapidly; but presently, the squall proving too strong for them, they all came fluttering up intothe wind and began to shorten sail. 

"No heaving-to for this one, eh, Tim?" yelled Leary; and putting hiswheel up, and feeling the _Ligonier_ beginning to pay off and the anchorto drag, he gave the word to slip the cable. 

Through the hawse-hole the clanking chain tore swiftly, and away camethe _Ligonier_ like a wild thing. Leary patted the wheel and began totalk to her:

"Crazy to get away, aren't you? Been laying too long to anchor, yes. Nowonder. And I'll not stint you now--take your fill of it, girl. " Whichshe did, and with Leary giving her plenty of wheel, through the whiteswash she scooped a long, wet rail. 

Tim Lacy now came aft. "There they are waitin' for us--an' the joke ofit is, Sammie, we c'n go out the North Passage with a fair wind. Theymust 'a' forgot that I was born and brought up in this very bay. "

"But we're not goin' out the North Passage, Tim. "

"No?"

"No. "

"But why? An' it's a beat up by them. "

"Well, a beat it'll be. Go for'ard now. "

"What'll he be at now?" muttered Tim. 

But Leary knew. One eye he had for the approaching fleet and one to theledge of rocks toward which the _Ligonier_ was winging. "Some of 'em, bythis time, think we're trying to run away. But they'll know better in aminute. And now do you, Tim, stand by that old cannon. "

She was almost into the rocks then, holding in for the last foot ofclear water; but not for too long did he allow her to run on. Just intime he tacked, and then it was about and away, for the fleet of nativeschooners, who, watching her closely and assured now of her course, spread out to intercept her. Expert seamen themselves, nowhere did theyleave a space wide enough for a rowboat, let alone a ninety-tonfisherman, to slip through. 

And they were armed. A shot rang out. Leary looked to see where the ballstruck, but among the endless merging of whitecaps there was nodiscovering that. "Not that I care where it hit, blast ye--ye'll neverstop me now--for--hide under the rail you, Tim, with the rest--I'm aftersome of you. " And he headed the _Ligonier_ straight for the windwardjack, which now he could see was that of the trader Lackford, whoseround-shouldered figure in the bow betrayed him. 

"Out of my way!" roared Leary before he realized that he was too faraway to be heard against the whistling squall. "But you'll hear me wellenough soon, " he muttered. "And, Tim, so long as you won't hide away, stand by that old fog-buster, and be sure to have the lanyard longenough to let you hide behind the forem'st, for there's no telling--theold antiquity might explode. I don't s'pose she's been shot off this tenyears. When I give the word, now--but wait, wait yet!" For a flyingmoment he brought the _Ligonier's_ head into the wind. "Now!"

Boom! It made more noise than a modern six-inch. They could see thelong lead go skipping under the bow of the trader's jack. 

"Heave to!" roared Leary, "or the next one goes aboard. " No question butthey could hear him now. "Heave her to, I say! Ay, that's right. Loadthe old lady again, Tim. And now"--his voice rose high again--"you'dbetter all heave to, and stand aside, for this one's bound out, and 'llcome blessed handy to cuttin' in two whatever gets in her way. "

And they luffed, twenty-odd sail of them, with six to eight men aboardeach, and stood to attention while the _Ligonier_, with her crew'sinquisitive, grinning faces poked above her rail, came tearing up andby. 

"And now let be your batteries, Tim, and run the ensign to the peak. "Which was done; and passed on in glory did the _Ligonier_, the oldsix-pounder adorning one rail, a swish of white foam burying the other, the colors aloft, and Sam Leary singing war-songs to the wheel. Andperfectly happy would he have been only the snow was thickening and noBess in sight. But maybe she had got safely home. Maybe. And just thencame from aloft:

"There's a little white sloop--an' some one in it--at Shark's Fin Ledgea'most. "

"Break out that gaff tops'l, fellows--and you, Tim, go aloft and pointthe way--and hurry, afore the snow comes. "

"Point the way to what, Sammie?"

"For a little white sloop with a girl in it. "

"Ho-oh--that's it, is it?"

IV

Bess had curled herself up and was falling asleep; and her last sleep itwould have been but for the boom of a small gun and the hail of afamiliar voice. She stood up. Again a hail. And through the curtain ofwhite it came almost atop of her, the grandest schooner ever was! Thelong lines of her seemed familiar. Then a clearer glimpse. Ay, she'dknow her anywhere--by the rust on her jumbo she would--the _Ligonier_. And then it swept on by--ay, sailing as a wild gull. 

Out of sight it went in the snow-squall, but leaving a voice in itstrail. 

"Bessie! Bessie!" it called. 

And now no schooner at all. Gone it was. And she remembered that thatwas the way of it--the beautiful picture afore they went at last. Butsoon again the sweep of the great white sails and the black bodybeneath. And the beautiful handling of her! "Seamen, them!" said Bessadmiringly, and then alongside it came--beautiful, beautiful. 

Then two arms scooped down and swept her over the rail of the lovely bigAmerican schooner. A strong arm and a voice. "Oh, Bessie! Bessie! andthe big, warm, foolish heart of you!" said the voice, and the armscarried her below and wrapped her in blankets and poured hot coffee, mugs of it, down her throat, and laid her in a bunk, while he sat on thelocker and looked--just looked at her. 

"Ah-h, Sammie!" murmured Bess blissfully. "An' now you'll bring me home, Sammie?"

"Ay, home, Bess. "

"Ah-h! An' my mother'll no ha' to cry for me, arter all. An' father, too, he'll ha' no cause to--Ah-h, God love you, Sammie. "

 * * * * *

By the light of the kerosene lamp in John Lowe's kitchen sat John Lowereading his favorite volume, harrowing tales of religious persecutioncenturies agone. And Mrs. Lowe sat rocking herself by the stove. Everyonce in a while she would hide her head in her skirt, and, onwithdrawing it, wipe her eyes. 

Now and again she would sigh wearily. "Too harsh, too harsh we were onthe lass. The blood runs warm at her age. "

Whereat John Lowe would turn and look fixedly at her, open his lips asif to say something but, always without speaking, refix his attention onthe fine black print before him. 

A knock on the door and a tall man in oilskins and sea-boots entered. "I've come to say--" he began: but by then John Lowe was on his feet. 

"Captain Leary is it?"

"Captain Leary it is. "

"Then, I've this to say to you, Captain Leary----"

"Hush, John. Captain"--beside her husband Mrs. Lowe stoodtrembling--"Captain Leary, we've a little girl--an' the story's aroundthe bay----"

Leary raised a hand. "I know, ma'am; I know. Your daughter, Mrs. Lowe, she's safe. Yes, John Lowe, safe--in every way safe. No thanks to me, but to herself. And she and me, we're going to be married. Yes, ma'am, married. Don't look so hard, man. You're thinkin' now, I know--you'rethinkin' it's a poor pilot I'll be for her on life's course?"

"Ay, I'm thinkin' so, captain, and not afeard to say it--I fear no man. Ay, a poor compass. "

"Compass? There--a fine word, compass. But the compass itself that 'mostevery one thinks is so true, John Lowe, we have to make allowances forit, don't we? And after we've made the allowances, it's as though itnever pointed anywhere but true north, isn't it? There's only one circleon the ocean, John Lowe, where a compass don't veer, but every shipcan't be always on that line. And even when you're sailin' that onecircle, John Lowe, there's sometimes deviations. And me--no doubt I havemy little variations and deviations. "

"Ay, no doubt o' that, " muttered John Lowe. 

"Ay, like everything and everybody else, John Lowe. But at last I've gotto where I think I know what little allowances to make. I think so. Andafter we've made our little allowances, and we c'n make 'em in advancesame's if we took it from a chart, why--there's Sammie Leary as true asthe next one. "

Mrs. Lowe laid her hand on the American's arm. "And Bess, captain; whereis she?"

"Outside, Mrs. Lowe, with Tim. And she's waiting. "

"Waiting for what?"

"To be asked inside. Will I call her?"

"Call her, captain--call her. "

"Yes, Mrs. Lowe, but--" Leary faced the man at the table. 

"Oh, well"--John Lowe sighed. "No doubt you ha' the right o' it, captain. You're one who ha' sailed many courses, an' your navigation, 'tis possible, is better than mine. Call her, captain, call her. "

Next morning, for all the bay to see, the curtains in John Lowe's housewere raised high. 

HOW THEY GOT THE "HATTIE RENNISH"

On the word being passed that Alec Corning was back from the West Coast, a few reminiscent friends went to hunt him up, and found him in theAnchorage, in a back room overlooking Duncan's wharf; and Alec wasagreeable, over a social glass and a good cigar, to explain how it camehe was back in Gloucester. 

"If they'd only let us alone I'd 'a' got--and Archie Gillis too--goodand rich. "

"Rich, Alec? You rich?"

"Well, maybe not quite rich, for that, o' course, would call for saving, but certainly I'd had a roll to spend before I was done--if only they'dlet us alone. But would they? Man, the meddlers they were!--thebrass-buttoned, steam-winched buttinskis!"

"But if that is their business, Alec?"

"M-m--maybe. But Russians, English, Japs--yes, an' American cutters andgunboats before they were done--you ought to seen them!"

Alec paused, but only for a quick breath. "We had the finest littlescheme of sealing till they took to hunting us. Up and down the lengthand breadth of the sealing-grounds they'd up and chase us wheneverthey'd get word of us--from the Japan coast back by way of theAleutians--clear down, one time, a pair of 'em, till we had to put inbehind Vancouver Island and hide the _Hattie_ behind a lot o' screenboughs. "

Alec paused; this time for a longer, an almost reflective, breath. "Thatbeing their business, p'r'aps they were all right; but ain't it a finething when a gang wants to go seal-hunting that a lot o' gover'mentpeople must specify where they can kill 'em, and when?--and theyswimmin' the wide ocean as the Lord intended! And our little vessel--the_Hattie Rennish_ when she used to go fresh halibutin' out o'here--remember her?"

There were several who heartily remembered the fast and able _Hattie_. 

Presently, letting the elevated front legs of his chair drop to thefloor, Alec rested one forearm on the table and went on to tell of howat last they got the _Hattie Rennish_. 

"'Twas a Californian man named Trumbull bought the _Hattie_ when she wasfresh halibutin' out o' Gloucester. A good sort of a man, and 'twas himgot me, with Archie Gillis for mate, to bring her 'round to Frisco. 

"But the time I'm going to speak of, the _Hattie_--painted green shewas, and called the _Pioneer_--was layin' into Seattle, when a chapcomes aboard with a letter from Trumbull to me explaining that certainaspects of the sealing business 'd been taking on a serious look to himlately and he'd sold the _Hattie_, and the party who'd bought her, letter herewith, might want to do business with me. 

"The looks of the new owner didn't warm me toward him in the start-off. Looks, of course, ain't everything, but when you don't know much about aman you got to go a lot by his looks. Yes, you sure have. And I'd seenhim before, joy cruisin' on the Barbary Coast one night with a lot ofdrunken sailors--only he wasn't drunk. And I knew what he was--someChinese blood in him, and the name o' being a slick one. But I didn'tsay anything about that. Gratu'tously telling a man you don't like himdon't lay you up to wind'ard any. No. And we sat down and he explainswhat he wanted. There was a consignment of a few bales of hemp waitingup on the British Columbia coast, and would I run the _Hattie_ over andslip back with 'em? And we'd have to leave right away. 

"Well, I would--after a talk. And with Archie Gillis and a few hoboesthat called themselves sailors, which I'd picked up in Jack Downing'splace in Seattle, we put out. Archie was mate and to get two hundreddollars and me five hundred. 

"It was a fine night, that night, and we put out into the sound andworked our way up through the islands, and the second morning laterslips into a little cove behind some high hills with trees along thebanks--in Georgia Strait. Twenty-four hours we lay there, and then wehears a steamer's wheel, but we don't see her; only a couple of hourslater the owner comes for me in a big ship's quarter-boat, and we workthe _Hattie_ over to a little island where we find a lot of baleswrapped in burlap and hid in a cook's shack. 

"'That all?' I asks my new owner--Durks his name. 

"'Oh, yes--there's a couple o' Chinamen here. But let's see--where arethey?' He looks around. 'They're not here--strolling in the woodssomewhere. We'll take them along, too, ' he says. 'You won't mind that, will you?'

"Now there was nothing in the contract about Chinamen, and I didn't likethe notion of him working 'em aboard in that way, but I said all rightand soon as dark came we'd roll 'em aboard and put out. 

"Well, the boss and I sits down to lunch in the cook-house, and by andby, with nothing to do but wait for dark, we stroll around the island. Now I'm no wizard in anything, but I always did have a good ear. And noharm at all, a good ear, when you got to do most of your own watchingout. Before we'd gone far I knew somebody was trailing me and the newowner. I could hear steps behind us an' dead twigs snapping and somebodyshoving aside branches, and once, when we stopped for a talk on the edgeof a clearing, I knew I heard somebody breathing just behind the busheswhich was hanging over the logs we were sitting on. 

"Now I knew that this Durks wasn't very popular in the quarters where hedid business, and 's I wasn't aching to have any Chinese tong man hit meover the head with any hatchet by mistake in a shaded wood, I justnaturally fell out of step and lost him, and being some trailer myself, I took to trailing whoever it was 'd been trailing me and Durks, and byand by I come up behind him, and when I do I grip him where he won'tmake too much noise nor do me too much harm till I let him. He wasn't avery big chap, nor any too strong, and I sets him down on the nearestold tree trunk and--'What is it?' I asks. 

"He looks at me and shakes his head and says, 'No sabby, ' and I looks athim and I shakes my head and says: 'Oh, yes, you do, Johnnie Sing. Iwasn't wearing any whiskers when I used to meet you in Wall-Eye Bunsen'splace. I've cultivated them for protective purposes only, to hide myface but not my intelligence--so you just overlook them and try andrecollect Alec Corning. Now what d' y' say?'

"'Halloo, Captain Corning!' he says; and, no pretending, he was glad tosee me. 

"'Whitely, ' I says--'Bill Whitely when you say it out loud. What's yourtrouble, Johnnie?' And so you c'n all get it right, I ought to say firstthat Johnnie Sing was a sort of Americanized Chinaman, who the last timeI'd seen him was inquiring if he couldn't become a real American someway. He'd been born in Lima on the West Coast, where there's a bigcolony o' Chinamen, and he was part Chinese, the rest of him PeruvianIndian. A Christian, too, he was; which I'm not putting up as being foror against him, except so you'll see he had as much right to be aChristian as anything else. His mother was Christian, and so it wasn'tlike as if he had turned against his own to get on in the world. 

"Johnnie was a good sort, and he'd made a few dollars in the teabusiness, and so maybe ought to 'a' been happy. But he wasn't. Therewas an old Chinaman, and not too old either, who'd married a Finn womancame off a wrecked Norwegian bark. They ran a laundry together, andby'n'by they came on to Frisco and ran a laundry there. And Johnniefollowed them. A good woman, and she died leaving a well-grown littlegirl, and by'n'by the old fellow he figures he's made enough and goesback to have a look at China. But no sooner there than he learns hewon't live very long, and he writes Johnnie of it, or maybe it was thegirl did, her and Johnnie having been always about three-quarters inlove with each other. And Johnnie he cruises over to China, and the oldfellow, savvying how things are, says all right, marry, and they getmarried, and he gives 'em his blessing and lays down and dies. A goodold scout, Johnnie said, and I guess he was. 

"Well, everything's fine, only Johnnie wants to come back and live inthe United States, and the girl too. She was sixteen years old when sheleft California, and a woman's life in the United States looked a lotbetter to her than in this land of one-half her ancestors. So she andJohnnie takes a steamer to Vancouver, and they get there all right; butnot till they got there did either of them happen to think that theywere foreigners and barred as Chinese from coming into the UnitedStates. Which was a pity, they being pretty white and so strong foreverything American. Anyway, Johnnie writes to Trumbull, my old boss, tosee what he could do, and after ten days or so Durks happens along andbumps into Johnnie and is surprised as you please to see him, andJohnnie tells him his story, and Durks tells him not to worry aboutthat--that he'd smuggle him and his wife across in a schooner he'd justbought. They would take a little coast steamer and meet her a few hoursup the coast, and then across the sound to Seattle--'twould be theeasiest thing ever you see. 

"And there they were, Johnnie and his wife, and when he got that far inhis story Johnnie stops and looks up at the sky most mournful-like. Springtime it was, mind you, and fine weather, with the sun shining andthe waters of the inlet rolling up on the rocks gentle-like, and thefirst of the birds were up from the south and singing and chirping, and, I s'pose, nesting overhead--a bran'-new spring day in a piny grove on apretty little island off the coast of British Columbia, when anybodyshould 'a' been happy, 'specially with a new young wife. 

"'Well, what's wrong--what you so blue about?' I asks Johnnie when he'dgot through squinting up the tree branches to the sky. 

"And he tells me how after his wife was aboard the steamer which 'dbrought 'em to this place she sees Durks and tells Johnnie how Durkscame near kidnapping her one time--before she went back to China withher father. Her father and Durks had a terrible row over it. Her fathernear killed Durks with a hatchet. And now here was Durks turning up inthis accidental way; too accidental altogether--for Durks. He wouldsteal her or something, and once he got her into San Francisco theycould be swallowed up with her. Huh--a Chinese row, the police wouldsay, and not bother too much. Not like stealing an American girl. 'Andif he gives me over to the police, I am not an American citizen--out ofthe country I must go, ' winds up Johnnie. 

"Terrible downcast is Johnnie Sing, but I stands him on his feet andtells him to cheer up. Durks was head of the expedition, yes, and payingthe bills, yes; but me, Alec Corning, was skipper of the _Hattie_. 'Godown and tell your little wife that everything'll be all right, ' saysI--'that Alec Corning'll be on the job. Where is she?'

"'She is here, ' he says, and whistles, and out from the brush steps acute little girl dressed like a man, and with a hard hat to make herlook all the more like a man. Johnnie lifted the little hat, and underit she has a lot of yellow-ash hair coiled up where a reg'lar Chinaman'd have only a black pigtail. 

"'Don't let on to Durks either of you ever saw me in your life, ' Iadvises 'em, 'and when it's time to go aboard the vessel you go. '

"And they went aboard with what Durks says was bales of hemp; and we putout that night in open water, and next day threading inside passages sofar as we could. Another night and another morning found us in PugetSound, and there on a little neck of land on the American shore wehoisted our load of hemp onto a little, rough-made wooden pier. Anarrow-gauge track ran up from the pier, and standing on the track was ahand flat car. 

"'Now, ' says Durks, 'I will pay off" these men, so they won't be hangingaround and possibly talking too much before we get clear. ' And he did---ten dollars to the hands and fifteen to the cook, and a silver dollarall around for car-fare. And they went ashore, he telling them wherethey would find a little branch station about a mile up the road to takethem to Seattle. And so we got through with them. 

"He himself goes ashore after they're out the way, and stays an hour orso, and when he's back, 'How about paying off me and my mate now?' Iasks. 

"'You take the schooner to a little place west of here and then I'll payyou both off, ' he answers. 

"'And how about landing those two passengers?' I asks. 

"'No, no, don't land them here, ' he says. 'Somebody might see them andpounce on us for landing them. Keep them aboard for a while--to the nextanchorage. '

"And we put out late in the morning then, and, there being no wind, 'twas in the middle of the afternoon before we came to anchor in alittle harbor about five miles from where we landed the cargo. And we'dhardly been there when an American gunboat comes to anchor just off ourhiding-place, and Archie and me we looks at each other, but don't sayanything. 

"And Durks? He's terribly surprised at the sight of thegunboat--terribly. By and by he stops walking the deck and says to me:'I have a plan, captain. I will go aboard that gunboat and find out whatthey want here. If they think there is anything wrong about us, I willinvite them to come aboard and look us over. What do you say to that?'

"I didn't say anything to it, but 'What will become of me and my wife--Ipaid you five hundred dollars for us?' pipes up Johnnie Sing. 

"'Why'--and Durks smiles--'that is easy. You can hide--oh, where now?Why, of course, in the lazaretto. And your wife in a locker somewherethat Captain Corning will pick out for her. They will not look far, evenif they shall suspect us--they will think we would have fifty or ahundred aboard or none at all. So they will not look into every corner. If you both hide away somewhere everything will be all right. '

"Johnnie is uneasy, but I nods my head to him on the sly, and he saysall right and goes below with his wife. And making sure they are below, Durks turns to me and hands over five hundred to me, and to Archie twohundred dollars. And he shows us another five hundred and says: 'Andthis will be for you two to divide as you please when I get Johnnie Singaway from the ship and the girl is left behind. What do you say?'

"And I looks over at the five hundred and says, 'It looks pretty good';and Archie he looks at me and at the extra money and says, 'It lookspretty good'; and Durks laughs and says, 'It will feel pretty good, too;but better put that money out of sight, hadn't you, captain--and youtoo, Mr. Gillis?' and goes off in the big quarter-boat--the only boat wehad aboard, by the way. 

"No sooner was he gone than up pops Johnnie Sing out of the cabincompanionway. 'Captain, ' he says, 'must I hide away?'

"Can you swim?'

"'A little bit. '

"'A little bit? Not enough. And your wife?'

"From over his shoulder she shook her head. 

"'Then you can't swim ashore, can you? You got to stay aboard, that'splain. Well, you and your wife go with Mr. Gillis, who'll stow you in aplace he knows under the forec's'le floor. Neither o' you bein' too tallor too fat, you c'n stow away in this place without smotherin' for anhour or two. We've used it before. Go by way of the cabin and throughthe hold below decks, so if anybody's got a glass on us from the gunboatthey won't see you. '

"And they went, she crawling behind him like a little mouse. And Archietucked 'em away and comes on deck, looking at his money as he comes--twoone-hundred-dollar bills. 'Tuck it out o' sight!' Archie wassayin'--'tuck it out o' sight, hah?' And the more he looks the moredoubtful he becomes, and I looks at mine, and I get a magnifyin' glassfrom my dunnage to have a closer look, and sure enough it's the phonykind of money men like Durks used sometimes to pass off on unsuspectingChinks on that coast. 'Johnnie Sing tips me off about it just now, 'explains Archie to me. 

"And while we're swearing at Durks for that, back he comes with a youngofficer and four armed sailors. The officer looks at me and says: 'Youhave contraband Chinamen aboard here?'

"Well, that got me. I looks at him, and then, thinking of the phonymoney, I looks at Durks. And I don't answer. 

"'We shall have to search the ship, ' says the officer. 

"'Sure, ' I says, 'search away. '

"And they went and dropped straight into the cabin and made for thelazaretto, Durks waiting and whistling to himself on deck. Pretty soonthe officer comes up and reports nobody in the lazaretto. Durks goes upin the air. 'Where is he?' he says to me. 

"'He? Who?'

"'Johnnie Sing. '

"'What you talkin' about?' I asks, and at the same time Archiecarelessly hauls out a hundred-dollar bill and lights a cigarette withit. And Durks suddenly changes, and with the officer's permission stepswith me into the cabin. And the first thing he does is to count outseven hundred dollars good money and hand it to me. 'I took that otherfrom the wrong pile, ' he says, and smiles, but not as if he expects tobe believed. And he holds out another five hundred--good money--andsays, 'Where are they?' And I looks wise and says, 'Suppose that Chinkgave me a thousand to get 'em clear?' 'A thousand? Well, here--here's athousand when you turn him over to me. Where are they?'

"And I whispered, so the lockers themselves couldn't hear me: 'They swamashore and are hid away. To-morrow morning I give them the signal andthey'll come back aboard. '

"'Then, ' says Durks, 'you can get his five hundred and my thousand. Willthat satisfy you?'

"And I said I'd think it over, and we went on deck, where Durks told theofficer there might be a way to get hold of the contraband Chinamen yet. And the officer eyes us both and finally says: 'You'd better both comewith me to the ship and make it clear to the captain. He is now up theSound, but will be aboard in the morning. And we went, leaving Archie tolook after the vessel. 

"We went aboard the gunboat, not exactly under guard, but just so's tobe sure we'd be there when we were wanted. It was now getting on towardsix o'clock, and the first thing meal call blew, and up steps an oldshipmate, Ed Gurney, and invites me down to the chief petty officers'mess for supper. 

"Ed and me we'd been snapper-fishing together in the Gulf o' Mexico, onthe Campeche Bank, in one of those little short bowsprit schooners outo' Pensacola, and now he was high-line marksman of the ship, wore extramarks on his sleeve and got extra money, and all that kind o' stuff, forhis shooting. Well, Ed always could tell an oil-tanker from a bananasteamer as far as any man in the Gulf, and we talked of those daysduring supper, and after we'd had a good smoke we walked the decktogether, talking of one thing and another, and before I got through Itold him all about the scrape I was in. 

"'The grab-all snake!' says Ed. 'And what you goin' to do, Alec?'

"'My name is Bill, ' I answers; 'Bill Whitely if there's anybody likelyto be in hearing. But I tell you, Ed, ' I says, 'I don't like the notiono' little Johnnie Sing and his wife getting caught--or separated. '

"We were looking over the side then, where to the boom was tied a stringof small boats, our big quarter-boat to the end. 

"'What do you know about this fellow Durks, Ed?' I said, after a time. 

"'Nothing, ' he said, 'except that he's under suspicion of smugglingopium for a long time. They say he's money-mad and woman-mad, and alwayswas. '

"'So I've heard. And what's his game here with me?'

"'It's going around the ship that you ran away with his schooner andsmuggled a Chink aboard unbeknownst, but that he's going to forgive youif you hand over the Chinaman and so put him right with the Gover'ment. He didn't say anything about any woman. '

"'He's one fine gentleman, ' I says. And, by 'n' by: 'Suppose you sawsomebody was trying to slip the _Hattie_--the _Pioneer_--out by you inthe dark, what would happen?'

"'Happen?' says Ed. 'A lot o' things. And quick. It'd be up with a lotof three-inch ammunition, and some high-rating gun pointer, who's aslikely to be me as anybody else, would probably have to use you for alittle target practice. '

"'And you c'n lay 'em pretty close aboard, can't you, Ed--strings o'bull's-eyes at six and eight and ten thousand yards--hah?'

"'I have landed 'em as close as that, ' says Ed. 

"'But an old shipmate, Ed?' I says. 

"'Now, Alec----'

"'Bill--Bill Whitely, ' I says. 

"'Well, Bill Whitely, then, though you'd better let me call you Alec. Ithink I'd shoot a bit wider thinking of Alec Corning than anybody namedBill Whitely. If you don't leave me any other way out of it, I'd maybekeep scraping the paint off you as long as I could. '

"'Your idea bein' to do the right thing by the Gover'ment in the end, Ed?'

"'That's it, ' says Ed. 

"'Well, Ed, ' I says, 'if you should happen to see such a thing as amoving picture of the _Hattie_ stealin' out to sea, and it's up to youto bring her to, say at five or six or eight thousand yards, just scrapethe paint with the first two or three, will you, by way o' telling mehow it's you, Ed?'

"'All right, ' says Ed. 

"'And we shook hands over that. 'And maybe the Gover'ment won't belosing anything at that, ' I says. 

"After a time Ed Gurney left me to go on the night watch, and I wasstanding by the rail, figuring how I was going to get back to the_Hattie_, when Durks comes looking for me. 

"'Of course, ' says Durks, 'you had no idea of it, but I organized thisexpedition as much to get Johnnie Sing out of the way and separate himfrom his wife as to smuggle in the cargo of hemp. '

"'The duty on hemp, ' I interrupts, 'must be very high, Mr. Durks. '

"'What? It is--yes, ' he says. 

"'And how much _is_ the duty on hemp?' I asks. 

"And he don't know. 'Hemp, humph!' I says, 'how much is the duty on--?'and I stops. 

"'On what?' he says. 

"'On whatever's in those bales?' I answers. 

"'Why, what is the duty?' he asks. 

"Maybe there's no duty--maybe it's against the law to bring it in, nomatter what the duty, ' I answers. 

"And he sees I know too much, and from out of a pocket inside his vesthe draws a package of money and lets me look to see how much, and hesays: 'Five hundred now and five hundred when you turn over to meJohnnie Sing--separate from his wife. '

"'If I could get back on the schooner, ' I says, like I was studying itout, 'back on her to-night, I'd guarantee I'd have Johnnie Sing aboardher in the morning. '

"'But how can you get off this ship?' he says. 

"'Easy enough, ' I says. 'Nobody here cares whether I stay aboard or getaway, and nobody's watching me too close. You ask the executiveofficer's permission to go down aboard your quarter-boat, swinging fromthe boom there, by way of seeing it's all right, and you get into it andlook it over, and the last thing you do before leaving it you unfastenthe painter and let her go adrift. And in the morning, when you see the_Hattie_, Johnnie Sing and his wife will be aboard--- on her deck inplain sight. And then you come and get 'em. But you'll have to come andget 'em yourself--and give me five hundred dollars now on account--goodmoney, mind. ' And he does--good money. 

"And while he's going down over the boom ladder to one side I'm climbingdown a side ladder on the other, and soon standing on the last rung, just above the water-line, and waiting. And pretty soon I see the shadowof our quarter-boat drifting past her stern, and as I do I slipsoverboard and strikes out for her, quiet and mostly under water, becauseI had my clothes on. 

"I get aboard the quarter-boat and I let her drift till maybe I am aquarter of a mile away, and then I out oars and heads her in for where Ican see the _Hattie's_ riding light. I comes alongside. Archie's shapelooms up over the rail. 'Hi-i!' he yells, 'keep off!' 'It's all right, Archie, ' I says, and he reaches down and takes the painter. 'What'sdoing?' he says. 

"'Where's Johnnie Sing and his wife?'

"'She's asleep in the cabin and he's awake watching her. What you goingto do?'

"'You tell Johnnie here's his five hundred passage money back, will you, Archie? And then we'll make ready to skip out of here. '

"'Skip out? Not enough wind, ' says Archie. 

"'Not now, ' I says, 'but there will be. '

"'I hope so, ' says Archie, and calls Johnnie and tells him, and I giveshim his money which he didn't want to take but had to and we slip herchain cable but left her riding light on a buoy in case the gunboatwatch were having an eye on her. 'And now, ' I says, 'to that lighterwhere those bales of hemp are. '

"'Hadn't we better put straight for the open sound and head to sea, 'says Archie, 'while it's dark? What do we want with a lot o' hemp?'growls Archie. 

"'We'll go after the hemp, all the same, Archie, ' I says. 

"It took us three hours from our anchorage to make the lighter, wherethe hemp was, and that made it midnight. We let the schooner drift acouple of hundred yards off the little pier, and Archie and me paddledashore in our quarter-boat with a spare lantern. 

"There was the lighter, but no bales of hemp. Up on the pier, about twohundred yards, we see a streak of light. We crept up to that, andthrough a pane of glass high up--me standing on Archie's shoulders toget a look through--was four men playing cards, with money and a bottleof whiskey and a kerosene lamp on the table. We looked around. On thenarrow-gauge railroad track we found the little flat hand-car, and onthat, under a tarpaulin, were the bales of hemp. 

"We crept around to the door of the shack. By feeling we saw it openedout; so the two of us felt around for big-sized stones, a hundred poundsapiece, or so, and them we piled in front of the door, fifteen or twentyof 'em, very softly, and then I whispers to Archie to hustle the flatcar along to the pier. 

"And he did, but in getting started the car wheels grinded a little, andsomebody inside yells, 'What's that!' and again, 'Listen!' and then Icould hear one of 'em jumping up and cursing and swearing: 'What startedher?' Next thing somebody rattled the door-latch and pushed. And pushedagain. And then--bam! his whole weight against the door. The top partsprings out, but the bottom half sticks. 

"Then there was a quiet, and then somebody said something quick, and Icould hear 'em all jumping up and yelling out, and they came pilingbang-up for the door and slammed against it, but the big stones held'em. Then they stopped, and one of 'em says: 'We're locked in allright. ' 'Yes, ' I calls out, 'and you'd better stay locked in, for thefirst man, and the second man, and the third man comes out the door hegets his. And now, men, ' I calls out, 'keep that door covered and cutloose if it's knocked open. ' And then I hurried after Archie's lantern, which I see is now to the pier. 

"It didn't take us more than a couple o' minutes to pitch those littlebales off that car, tote 'em across the lighter and drop 'em into ourquarter-boat. Then we rowed out to our vessel and threw them over therail and let 'em lay there amidships till we could get a chance to rip'em open and see what we got. 

"It was then two o'clock, and 's by this time the breeze'd made a bit, Iwas hoping we'd slip by the gunboat before daylight. And we did--almost;but not far enough by. Before the sun was fair up they saw us and putsafter us. It took her a few minutes to get under way and steam up onher, and then she came a-belting. Twelve knots she was probablysteaming, but by now the breeze was strong enough for the _Hattie_ tohold her own, but not to draw away. And soon the breeze comes stronger, and we begin to lengthen and draw away from the gunboat. And it breezedup more, and the _Hattie_, balloon and stays'l on now, and taking itover her quarter, was beginning to show the stuff in her. 

"She was lifting her forefoot and kicking her way through like she knewwhat we wanted. We were walking away from the gunboat, and I waswondering why she didn't reach out for us with one of her long five-inchlads. But I see why pretty soon. In the clearing light a point of landshows up ahead of us, making out maybe a couple of miles to the windwardof our course. We couldn't turn out, for here was the main shore andthere was the gunboat. 'And a pity, too, ' I says to Archie, 'with enoughopium aboard to keep us many a year. '

"Archie'd 'most forgot the bales. 'Cut 'em open, ' I says to him, and hedid, and out they come--six or eight pound tins they looked--dozens of'em. And Archie, looking at the bright shiny tins, said, 'What a pity!'again, and we both said what a pity it was, too, for Johnnie Sing andhis wife. 'But don't you worry about 'em, ' I says; 'Nor you about yourwife, ' I says to Johnnie, who was looking heart-broken, with his armaround her. 

"All the time we were hopping on toward the point, and if 'twas anythingbut a steamer with guns was chasing us we'd 'a' squeezed by, and, onceby, it was good night to the gunboat or anything like her in thatbreeze. It looked that way even as it was, till a shell goes skippingacross the water ahead of us. In half a minute there came another oneastern. There wasn't any sea on this time--inshore this and the watersmooth, and the two shells had a fine chance to show how they couldpile up little hills of water and then go skipping across the surface, making quarter circles to the right. I had hopes, a few hopes yet. Forthe wind was still there, and the _Hattie_ she had everything on her, and she was pirooting 'tween earth and sky like a picnic swing. Andlooking out in terror was Johnnie Sing's little wife, and I was sayingto her: 'She's all right--she'll stay up, never fear. '

"'Oh, she'll stay up, ' says Archie, 'if one of them shells don't comeaboard, ' and we both eying a flash o' flame that just then came out theside of the gunboat. 

"'They're only fourteen-pounders, ' I says. 

"'Is that all?' says Archie. 'Only fourteen pounds o' nitroglycerine, orcordite, or dynamite, or guncotton, or whatever 'tis they packs into'em! Only fourteen pounds!--and fourteen ounces is enough to send the_Hattie_ to the clouds and eternal glory if ever it comes aboard, ' andjust then one came right under her forefoot and another under hercounter. And I looks back to the gunboat. She's less than a mile awaynow, and I takes the glasses and has a peek, and I imagines I sees atall, rangy lad standing beside a long, slim, steel-shiny, needle-lookin' gun, and I says to myself: 'Eddie boy, you miss us abouttwice more and Alec Corning'll be buying you more than one drink nexttime we meet, ' for I knew the end was near. Ahead of me I see a passagemaking an island of the last half mile o' that point o' land, and itlooked like water enough in the passage to let the _Hattie_ through. 

"I calls out to Archie and tells him to heave the tins of opium into thequarter-boat, and he did, and 'Now get into her, ' I says, 'and pull forthe beach. ' And they did, me staying aboard the _Hattie_ to luff her forthem to get away. And then I cut the stays'l free and gave the _Hattie_her wheel again, and when she was going full-tilt I jibed her over, andshe had everything on, and it was blowing blue devils, and only onething you'd think could happen after that long main-boom went swingingacross her deck--over the side had to go her spars. But they didn't. Atwenty-two-inch forem'st she carried, a great stick, and when she wasaway again and going straight for the passage I says to myself: 'You'llhave to hurry, Ed Gurney, or I'll be beating you to it!' For after all, when you're put to it, Durks or no Durks, there's only one thing todo--try and save your vessel. 

[Illustration: "Just then one came right under her forefoot and anotherunder her counter. And I looks back to the gunboat. "]

"The _Hattie_ rushes straight for the passage, and I thought maybe she'dmake it, when whing! whing! whing! you'd think somebody was tryingto cut his initials in the water around her. One after the other, likesomebody having fun with her, and then wr-r-t! I felt her shiver, andthen she seemed to shake herself, and then straight into the air herbowsprit seemed to rise and point to the morning sky, and from out ofher waist came flame and smoke. Straight on and up the bowsprit went, and down! and plump! her after-part went! and flying junks of one thingand another filled the air, and some smoke, and then in the sea aroundthe small parts that'd blown up began to fall. But I wasn't watchingthem. I was watching the for'ard half of her as it went pitching up, thebowsprit making a quarter circle in the air, and then plunk! down andunder. The great little _Hattie_ was gone. By that time I was in thewater reaching out for the quarter-boat. 

"'Too bad, ' says Archie, 'too bad!' when I was safe in her. 'Too bad!'he says, and stops rowing. 'Pull, you sentimental loafer; pull for thebeach!' I yells at him. 

"And he did, and we all did--all but Johnnie's wife--and landed, and ranup and hid in the brush up top of the cliff, and lay on our stomachswatching the gunboat come stealing in and put off a steam-barge and grabour quarter-boat with all the opium in it. And we could hear Ed Gurneywhoop when he held a tin of it aloft. 'Man, tons of it, tons of it!'Archie swore he could hear Ed yelling, and we guessed that would squarehim for those few wide shots. And then they headed back and went aboardthe gunboat, and pretty soon she steamed off. 

"'Vessel and opium both gone--I wonder how Durks is feeling now, ' saysArchie; 'and we with his--but how much is it altogether, Alec?' And thatreminded me, and I says to Archie, 'Where'd you leave your two hundreddollars?' and he stops and swears. He'd left it under his mattress inthe cabin of the _Hattie_. And I'd left my five hundred hanging up in mycoat in the cabin of the _Hattie_, and there she was in ten fathom ofwater. I broke the news to Archie. 

"Archie said he'd be damned. Then: 'How'll we get out of here? For wegotta go east after this, Alec. '

"And Johnnie Sing, listening, takes the five hundred I'd given him andhands it to me. I don't want to take it, and he says, 'Plentymore--see, ' and with his jackknife begins opening the wadding of hiscoat, and out come bills and bills and bills. All his property, twenty-odd thousand dollars, was sewed up there in big bills. And when'twas all out he offers it to us, telling us to help ourselves. AndArchie and me said no, the five hundred would do us to pay our way backto Gloucester here, and meals on the way, o' course. And Johnnie, byour advice, he comes east, too, with his little wife, and stepped off inNew York; and that's where we left him. 

"A fine little team, Johnnie and his wife. And the _Hattie_? If there'sany of you never seen her, then you ought to when she was alive. A greatlittle vessel, the _Hattie Rennish_!"

KILLORIN'S CARIBBEAN DAYS

Revolutions? These days? In those South American countries? Sh-h, boy, sh-h--you don't know. In th' old gunboat days in the Caribbeans we nevercalled it a good week 'nless we suppressed three or four. And at that Ithink we used to miss some. 

Believe me, son, those were the days when they knew how torevolutionize. You'd turn in of a night with the Blues or the Reds orGreens, in, and have breakfast maybe in the mornin' with the Purples orthe Violets and brass bands celebratin' the vict'ry in the Palacesquare. 

And the first thing every new party did when they got in was to start upthe Bureau of Printin' 'nd Engravin' and roll off a few billion dollarsof gover'ment money. In Guadalquique the money for all parties was thesame, except each party used to rubber-stamp its name across the face. An old navy yeoman hit the beach there one time named Tommie Andersonand he was made chief of the Bureau o' Printin' 'nd Engravin' by theGreens because he could make a rubber hand-stamp while they waited. Some traitor who didn't get his 'd absconded with the 'ficial one, Tommie said. 

Of course that kind o' work tends to debilitate the best kind o' money. In Almatara, which was one o' the best little revolutionary countriesever I struck, you could see nigger boot-blacks shootin' crap for two orthree thousand dollars a throw of a holiday in the market square. Itused to cost a thousand dollars for a shine--that's a first-class shinefor a foreigner, I mean. The natives didn't have to pay that much. 

Yes sir, son, a great old cruisin'-ground in the old days, theCaribbeans, and fine times there, believe me. In the old _Hiawatha_ we'dbe layin' in to Kingston, or Havana, or Matanzas, or some port alongthere, with big liberty parties ashore every day, when word 'd come fromWashington tellin' us there was hell to pay over to Guadalquique, orAlmatara, or somewhere else, and for us to beat it over there and sit on'em before they got going. 

The _Hiawatha_ she was a good old gunboat ratin' four fourteen and twosix-pounders, and, bein' the handiest thing in the fleet, 'twas alwaysher they detailed for those little revolutionary jobs, and aboard her wegot so, after a while, we didn't mind the report of a new revolutionany more 'n you'd mind the ringin' of the cash-register in a barroom uphere. Sometimes you'd see the skipper showin' signs of impatience, rumplin' his hair and rubbin' his chin and maybe cussin' a little; buthe always ended by hurryin' a patrol party ashore, and we'd beat up thegrog-shops 'n' the dance-halls and the park benches and hustle everybodyaboard, and the chief engineer he'd rouse out a couple of extra stokers, and up steam and away we'd go. 

Foolish things--revolutions? Maybe. But people who say no good can comeout o' revolutions, they don't know. I got rank an' fortune out of arevolution one time. Yes, sir, me, Killorin, bosun's mate, second class, U. S. N. And on my first Caribbean cruise it was, and--but I'll get tothe rest of it. When I was drafted to the _Hiawatha_ on the Caribbeanstation I had what you might call only a virgin notion of revolutions. My first enlistment was 'most run out, and I was looking to be putaboard some home-bound ship, but I was still on the _Hiawatha_ when shewas told to jog along over to Tangarine, a bustling young republic whichwas beginnin' to make a name for itself in the revolutionary way. 

Whatever they were doin' we were to stop it. That was the MonroeDoctrine, the officers said. And so we put over there, but we didn'tstop it. It was all over, with the Reds in an' printin' new money andpostage-stamps and makin' a bluff to collect customs fine as could bewhen we got there. 

There was nothin' to keep us there, but it was a fruitful-lookin'country and the skipper he thought he might 's well get a little freshgrub for his mess, and he sends me ashore to do the buyin'. And I goes. And the first grocery store I come to I says to the man behind thecounter: "How much for a ham?" And he says, quick and brisk, "Fourthousand dollars, " and I was most stunned, but I manages to slap afive-dollar gold piece down on the counter and I says, quick and brisktoo: "In God's name gimme a bite out of it!" An' I had to hire twocoolies to wheel the change back to the ship. 

Well, the money values of that Tangarine place had me mesmerized, andwhen my time ran out a few weeks later I settles up with the paymasterand stands by to go over the side with my bag. The skipper he says:"Killorin, I'll be over here by'n'by and take you off. And you'll beglad to come, I'll wager. " And I says, "Thank you, sir, but this is thedolsee far nanity country for me. With the number o' gold pieces I gotin my pants pocket I oughter be able to pass the rest o' my days here, "and with my big ticket and my bag I hit the beach in Tangarine, intendin' to go straight to the palace and get chummy with the newPresident first thing. 

But I never got so far as the palace. Not that time. About aquarter-mile up from the beach was a joyous-lookin' hotel with shadedverandas all 'round and a banana grove in the yard, and on a second looka _cantina_ shinin' with mirrors and glasses and colored bottles on theground floor, and on another look spacious-lookin' suites o' rooms suchas were befittin' to _se�ors_ of wealth and leisure on the floor above. And over these premises I cast one sailor-like view, and through thefor'ard gangway of that glass-mounted _cantina_ I hove my clothes-bagand myself followed after. There was also a roulette wheel, which didn'thurt the looks of the place either. 

I felt so right to home that I anchored right there--oh, three or fouror five or six days; maybe it was two weeks; but anyway--all that don'tmatter--when I steadied down so's to reason like the man o' sense myskipper always used to say I was at bottom, I was down on the beach andit was early in the mornin', and I was watchin' a lemon-colored suntrying to rise out of the smooth Caribbean sea, and I was wonderin'where it was I'd mislaid my clothes-bag. I could account for everythin'but my clothes-bag. But that don't matter either now. I never saw itagain. 

And while I sat there, not feelin' just like a high-score gun-captainafter target-practice, I hears a light step behind me, and pretty soon Icould feel an eye looking me over, and by'n'by a voice said: "A ver-ryfine good morning, sir. "

"Is it?" I says, and I looks up to see who the cheerful party is. Andthere was a good-lookin', well-dressed, young, dark-complected chap, with a little bamboo cane which he kept stickin' into the sand. 

And he looks at me again and says, plainly pleased and yet a little sad, too: "The Blues are in. " And I says: "That so? Since when?" And he says:"Since last nigh-it. You did not hear, the revoloo-shee-onn?"

And I says: "I didn't--I must 'a' been takin' a nap. " But I guessed itwas a good thing; leastways they couldn't be any worse than the Reds--orwas it the Yellow chaps were in last?

"No Yellow in Tangarine, " he says. 

"Ha, ha!" I says--"an authority. "

"No Yellow--Blues and Reds only. And as for the Reds, bah! But theBlues, good--ver-ry good, " and he pulls the cane out of the sand, lungesat the air, comes to a present, and says: "I salute you, sir. " And Isaid: "And I al-so salute you, se�or. " And he says: "Americano?" And Isaid: "You betcher. " And he said: "Of course. Ver-ry good. I have beenone time in your country. I have studied the langooage there, yes. Ver-ry fine, ver-ry fine. All American people ver-ry fine. All heroes. Yes, yes, I think so. I have read it also in your books. But par-don, sir, what is it you do now?"

And I said I wasn't doing anything except makin' up my mind whether I'dgo back to the navy or not, and if I did, how I'd get back. 

"Ah-h, man-o'-war-man. I have thought so. You sail ship--navigate, yes?"And I said I didn't know about navigatin', but I could sail a ship if Ihad to. 

"I have thought so, " he says. "Listen, please. While you--compose, is itnot?--your brains, should you not wish to engage in privateerin'? It isver-ry good wonderful opportune time now for that, while the Blues arein control and the Reds who are on the ocean know not of it. "

"H'm, we kind o' lost the privateerin' habit in our country. How do youdo it these days?" I says. 

"Oh-h, sir, ver-ry sim-ple, ver-ry. My friend he is in the Blue cabinet. A fine man, yes. He shall make for me all the privateerin' documents Ishall require. It is necessary only to request respectfully of him. Thenwe shall engage a small ship and you shall navigate her, and when weshall perceive other ships, the same who shall display the Red flag, weshall display suddenly a Blue flag on our ship and capture them. "

"And loot 'em?"

"Par-don, sir, " says he, "but what is that lootem?"

"Why, whatever's in the ships we capture. Don't we get everythin' we c'nfind in 'em?"

"Oh, sir, of a surely, abso-lutely. It is the article of war. But"--heholds up a finger warnin'like--"as commander of the expedition I shallreserve to myself one article of any kind which shall be captured. Onechest, one table, even"--he looked at me to see if I got thispart--"even one prisoner, if I shall so desire. "

"Well, that's all right, too, " I said; "for I s'pose you're payin' forthe outfittin' o' this expedition?" And he says he was. "Then it's ago, " I says; "for I don't see but I might 's well be privateerin' an'pickin' up a little loose loot as lyin' around on the beach wonderin'where my eats are comin' from f'r the next few weeks. "

So he brings me around and shows me a little brigantine, he'd chartered, and with three dusky lads for a crew and some grub and two big chests onher quarter-deck we sail out. And the first thing I says when we wereclear o' the harbor was: "What's them chests for?" And he opens up oneof 'em and says: "Behold, se�or, your uniform!"

And I looks and there's five gold stripes on the sleeve of the coat tobegin with. And draws it all out, pants and all, and I see it's anadmiral's special full-dress uniform!

"For me?" I says. 

"Certain-ly, " he says. "You, se�or, shall be an admiral. Why not?"

"Well, " I says, "I don' know why not either, only it's some rank tostart with. But what'll you be?" And at that he opens up the other chestand hauls out another uniform and holds it up f'r me to look at, and, pointin' to the insignia, he asks: "What rank shall such be?"

It was a general's uniform, and I tells him so. 

"So?" he says. Then bowing to me: "Then I, se�or, if you do not object, shall be a gen'ral. "

"Sure--why not, se�or?" I says. "And there's cert'nly some class to thequarter-deck o' this brigantine. Let's get into 'em. " And we got into'em, an' gorgeous, oh, gorgeous, they were. An' rememberin' the marketprice o' hams when I was buyin' hams, I figured they must 'a' cost tenor fifteen million dollars apiece. And I hadn't been an hour inmine--solid gold almost, and a gold-mounted shappo and a gold belt and adazzlin' sword--before I begins to appreciate what it was to be anadmiral and to respect every admiral ever I'd sailed under--except maybetwo or three--for bein' good enough to look at me at all while they werestanding round deck in their uniforms. An' f'r the next hour I kept thatcrew hoppin' from one end of the brigantine to the other, just to see'em hop when I gives an order with my admiral's uniform on. 

But after I got so I could take off my shappo and draw my sword and lookdown at myself without swellin' up, I says to the gen'ral, "Whatd'y'say, se�or gen'ral, to a little action?" and points to a ladquarterin' down the wind toward us with a Red flag up. "It's plain, " Isays, "he don't know the Blues is in. What d'y'say if we shake him upsame as a real privateer--send a hot shot across his forefoot and makehim haul his wind?"

"No, no, " and the gen'ral shakes his head. 

And soon there came another fellow inbound and with a Red flag up, butagain the gen'ral said, "Paysheeons, paysheeons, se�or admiral, " andraises one hand to restrain my impulsive motions. 

And four or five more passed, all flyin' the Red flag. But no word fromthe gen'ral until toward the middle of the afternoon--and a hotafternoon it was. The gen'ral, with the glasses to his eyes, bouncesinto the air. "Ah-h!" and again, "Ah-h!" and points to her. "Now thefair prize-a, the rich prize-a!" he says, and draws deep breaths, andcinches up on his belt, and runs his fingers between his red and greenand yellow gold-mounted collar and his neck, and runs below and takes alast look at himself in the mirror, and comes runnin' up on deck andcalls out: "Se�or admiral, you shall prepare the ship for combat!"

"Ay, ay, gen'ral!" I says and takes out my bosun's whistle, which I'dnever turned in of a night without hangin' it 'round my neck, and whichI now lifts from the breast of my gold-mounted coat, and pipes all handsto battle quarters. But the crew, except the one to the wheel, was underthe rail, asleep, and so I had to enforce my pipin' with the flat of mysword. It'd been quicker to kick 'em, but, it bein' a hot day, I'd leftoff my shoes. And when they come awake I orders 'em to fly thebattle-flag, which the gen'ral brings up from the bottom of his uniformchest, a fine large bright-blue thing, with stars and horned moons onit. 

And then I makes ready a little old muzzle-loadin' gun, which was lashedin the waist, but pointin' over the port side, which happened to be thewrong side when we wanted to fire a shot across the enemy's bow. So wehad to tack ship, which took about ten minutes, my crew not bein' A. B. 's. But when we did fire, the noise and the splash of water the ballthrew up was war enough for the enemy. She was about a 100-ton tradin'schooner, and she came into the wind. 

"Haul down your flag!" hollers the gen'ral in the Tangarine language, and one of their crew was goin' to haul it down, only for a stout littlechap who came runnin' up out of her cabin and put his glasses on thegen'ral, and then rushes over and grabs the signal halyards from the manwho was goin' to lower 'em, and hits him a clip in the neck at the sametime--a scrappy chap he looked. 

"He is there--it is heemself, " says the gen'ral, excitedly. But to me, very courteous, he said: "Se�or admiral, shall you manoeuvre the shipto approach the enemy, if you please?"

"Ay, ay, sir!" I says cheerily, and puts the brigantine alongside, andthe pair of us, in our gorgeous uniforms, we leaps aboard. 

"Surrender!" orders the gen'ral in a commandin' voice, but the scrappylittle man he wouldn't. He yelled somethin' at his crew, and they gotbehind him. And there were four of them against me an' the gen'ral, forour brigantine started to drift away soon as we left her, and ourspiggity crew couldn't get her alongside again. 

There we were, us two heroes, marooned on the enemy's deck, in the mostmagnificent uniforms, but not another blessed thing to fight with excepta couple o' gold-plated swords. But the little captain and his crew hadonly what loose things they could grab in a hurry--oars, deck-swabs, marlin-spikes, and one thing or another; but with them, without wastin'any flourishes, they came at me an' the gen'ral, and we draws ourswords. 

"What d' y' say, will we have at 'em, gen'ral?" I says. 

"As you say, se�or admiral, have at 'em!" answers the gen'ral, and wehaves at 'em. 

But I soon begin to see we wasn't havin' at 'em in any great shape. Ourswords had two backs but no edge. It was like hittin' 'em withbarrel-staves. Fine grand echoes, but the echoes wasn't knockin' 'emdown. And the gold-mounted uniforms were in the way, too--in my way, anyway. My gold-mounted collar was gettin' so tight after I'd warmed upto the work that I 'most choked. 

"Have at 'em!" the gen'ral cried again, "but have great care for the oldgentleman. "

I was just goin' to welt the little captain a good one when I heardthat. "Not hurt him!" I says. "A hell of a battle this where we have toplay fav'rites among th' enemy. And why won't I hurt him, se�orgen'ral, an' him the best scrapper o'the lot?"

"You must not. No, no! He is the father of the lady. "

"So that's it? And where's the fair lady?" I asks. 

"I know not. I trust she is on this ship, but I know not. But have at'em, as you say, se�or admiral, once more, and possibly we shalldiscover. "

"All right, but let's have at 'em right, " I says, and down on the deck Ithrows my grand sword, and with it the very fine scabbard which I'd beenholdin' with one hand to keep from givin' myself the leg. And I shedsthe gold-embroidered coat on top of it. I kept wearin' the gold-mountedshappo because the sun was hot, but the rest of me was stripped to thewaist. And I felt better, and then I says: "Come on, gen'ral, unhookthat golden armor and be free an' easy in y'ur motions like me. "

"No, no, se�or admiral. I shall wear my uniform, even though it is todie in it, " he answers back. 

"All right, se�or gen'ral, " I says, "have your own way. It's theprivilege of your rank, but for me a little looser motions and a heavierarmament, " and I picks up what looks like a baseball bat, but a littlelonger and a little thicker and a good deal heavier than any baseballbat. A capstan-bar it was. And if y'ever handled one you know what agreat little persuader a capstan-bar is. I could tell you a hundredstories o' capstan-bars. Many a good fight used to be settled in th' oldsailin'-ship days with a capstan-bar. 

And with my capstan-bar I haves at 'em right. Soon I had two of theenemy backed up to the forehatch, and before their worryin' eyes Iflourishes my capstan-bar. "Now then, " I says, "it's go below for youtwo or a pair of cracked skulls--which?" And they went below, the pairof them together like divin' seals, into what I see, when I takes apeek, was mostly a cargo of pineapples and cocoanuts in bulk. I couldhear 'em bouncin' around among 'em after they struck. 

And now, being well warmed up to my work and my head bustin' withstrategy, I takes the little captain in the rear and was about to layhim low, when the gen'ral hollers: "Se�or admiral, you for-get--sparehim!" So I spares him, but I whales the other last one a couple in asoft spot and chases him, till he took a high dive too into theforehold; and I could also hear him rattlin' and bouncin' around afterhe struck the cocoanuts or the pineapples, whichever it was. Then I goesfor the little captain again, only now I picks him up and holds himwhile the gen'ral ties his arms, and then, first clampin' down theforehatches on the captured crew, we lowers him into the cabin whilst wetake a look around. 

It was me for loot, the gen'ral for the fair lady. But not a thing couldI find, and him no fair lady. In the hold, topside, between decks, everywhere; but nothin' besides cocoanuts and other fruit and somehogsheads o' rum. The rum was an encouragin' item, but not what you'dcall loot. So we came back to the cabin and untied the captain, whobegins at once to go rollin' cigarettes and shootin' green eyes at thepair of us. The gen'ral takes a seat opposite him and arguesbeseechin'ly, but not one soft look from the little man. 

The gen'ral, discouraged, turns to me. "Se�or admiral, what do you sayfor him? Is it not a hard heart? I love his daughter, but he----"

"She no lofe you!" snaps the little man. 

"Ah-h, but how can you say that truly?" says the gen'ral, and turns tome and says: "Is it not just, se�or admiral, that I should have oneopportuni-ty to see her?"

By this time I'd filled a little jug with some rum, and there was lemonsand brown sugar and a little ice, and I thought 'twas kind o' rough onhim, and so I says: "Yes, I think y'oughter, 'specially while you gotthat uniform on. But where is she?"

"Ah-h, that is it, where is she? On this ship I have thought, butevident-ly not so. "

"Maybe she's here at that, hidden somewhere, " I says, "and if she is, believe me, gen'ral, I'll find her, " and leavin' a lemon swizzle to coolI begins to search the schooner again. And this time I takes a good lookinto the little captain's stateroom. I didn't find the fair lady, butpacked cutely away under the old fellow's bunk was about a cord o'money! Nothing less than a thousand-dollar bill, but five andten-thousand dollar bills mostly, and all new. Lord knows how much therewas there, but I hauled a bushel or so of it out on the cabin floor byway of a sample. And the little man never stirred when he saw it; and asfor the gen'ral, "Bah!" he said--"Red moneys!"

I was thinkin' I'd done a fine stroke, and that made me feel kind o' putout. "I'll find that girl if she's on the ship, " I says then, and Isteps over to a corner of the cabin where there'd been a freshboarding-up of the bulkhead. 

I gazes steady at it. And I could almost feel the little man's eyesborin' into my back! And I whirls around quick; there he was--paying noattention to the gen'ral, but starin' at me. And to myself I says: "Iflosin' all that money in his room don't jar him, it must be somethin'good behind that bulkhead for him to worry over. " And with that in mymind I looks again at the old fellow, and now I know what it is, and theold man knew I knew, and into his eyes came such a look that I stoppeddead. You mustn't forget that I was a big, loose, rangy 180-pounder, andstandin' there--I can see it now; I didn't then--but me standin' there, with the heat of warm exercise and three West Indian rum swizzles oozingout of me on that tropic afternoon, I c'n see now I wasn't any wingedangel to look at. 

But I had no notion of that then, only that I was beginnin' to like thelittle captain; and with that new feelin' I spoke to the gen'ral. "Here, " I says, "let's step on deck for a minute. " And we went up, leaving the old fellow below with his hands tied while we were gone. Andup on deck I says, quick and sharp: "Look here, mate, what's this aboutyou and the old chap's daughter? Is it all straight?"

"Straight?" repeats the gen'ral, puzzled like. "Straight? Ah-h--listen, my friend, " and he pours out on me what I wasn't huntin' for--hisautobie-ography. It was her father who had kept them apart so. Herfather, he did not love his--the gen'ral's--father. An old familyquarrel, yes. Oh, for a long time back. Politics. He was of the Reds, her father, and his own father of the Blues. Her uncle he had beenvice-president of the Red republic. It was true. But why should he andthe beautiful daughter suffer for a quarrel which was so old, and thegirl and himself all that were left of both families? Why? And Iscratched my head and said I couldn't see why either. 

And love her! Before he got through I could hear whole poems in thelittle wavelets lappin' under our run, and in the evenin' breeze whichwas kissin' my cheek. And the smell of oranges and pineapples andmolasses and good West India rum coming up from the main hold--'twas thebreath of roses--only I stopped to hope the captured crew in theforehold wasn't drinkin' up all the rum in their end of the ship--and tothis side and that the lights of passin' ships were showin' and thevoices of men and women floatin' over the water, darky voices mostly, and some were chorusin', chorusin' a shanty air which I'd last heardfrom a crowd of Georgia darkies loadin' a lumber schooner, a four-mastedlumber schooner, through a great square hole in her bow from a railroaddock on the Savannah River--one time, that was, my ship put intoSavannah and I got to know a girl lived in the Yamacraw there, and onSunday afternoons we used to walk up and sit on the lumber piles onthat same railroad wharf and watch the yellow river flowing by and dreamo' things that never did happen an' never could--not for her and me. Andnow, aboard the little Caribbean trader, the moon was beginnin' to pokeover our starboard rail and the first little white stars were peekin'out over the foretopsail, and the gen'ral was still talking. And whenhe'd done he laid his hand on my shoulder and said: "Straight, my braveAmerican friend? As straight as a tall palm-tree. And all this"--hepulls on the end of a couple of cords on his gold-mounted coat--"Ithought it would look well in her eyes. " And he stops. 

"But you are of the North, " he says after a little while; "you thinkthat foolish, possibly?"

"We do, " I says. "We unanimously do, " and as I said it I got to thinkin'of how when I was a boy I used to walk on my hands, and stand on myhead, and throw flip-flaps, or stop to knock the head off some passin'kid--if I was able--anythin' so a red-ginghamed, pop-eyed little girlsittin' on the door-step across the street would take notice. "We dothose things when we are boys, " says I aloud. 

"Ah-h! So you think--" says the gen'ral. "Ver-ry good, " and starts tothrow off his uniform. 

"No, no, " I says. "Keep that on. It becomes you. And, besides, I don'tknow's I'm so sure we ought all to grow up. And come below--come!" Ithought I heard the old fellow's voice below and I jumped down, andthere he was, the little captain, hurryin' away from the bulkhead. 

And now I examines the bulkhead carefully, and I goes up on deck andresumes my full admiral's coat and buckles on the fine gold-mounted beltand sword and sets my shappo just a little to one side. I was wishin' Ihad my shoes, but they were on the brigantine and she was a quarter-mileaway and still driftin'. And back in the cabin again, I picks up thehammer and draws from the bulkhead plankin' half a dozen nails, and intwo minutes it's done, and out under the lights o' the cabin lampsteps--O, the prettiest, slimmest little dark-eyed girl, just a matchfor the gen'ral. But the first thing she sees is me, Killorin. "Ah-h--"she says, in a long sigh with her mouth a little open, and I tosses thehammer and nails into a corner and straightens up and takes a fullbreath; and let me tell you, son, in those days the worst-lookin'flatfoot ever climbed over a gunboat's side wasn't me, Killorin, bosun'smate, second-class--or was I first-class then? No matter; I was in afull-dress admiral's uniform then, and from me cocked hat to me baretoes I was some class. I knew I was--even without my shoes. And whenagain she looks at me and when again she sighs, "Ah-h--" with her littlered lips apart, I says to myself: "Killorin, son, you're makin' one bighit. " And just then her eyes looked past me and again she said, "Ah-h--"and down among my lower ribs somewhere dropped my quick-firm' heart, and"Killorin, " I whispers to myself, "she loves you--not. " For that lastah-h--and sigh-h for the gen'ral was seven times deeper and longer thanthe one she hove up at sight of me. 

And while they were gazin' rapturous at each other the little captain'seyes met mine. And with a memory o' the last time I'd been up before asummary court-martial, I takes charge of the case. And "Sir, " I says, "it appears to me like I'd have to be judge here. You, sir, are aprisoner o' war. And, to be more explicit, all aboard here are prisonerso' war. But no gentleman, and I say gentleman advisedly, is goin' toinclude a woman in the loot without her own consent, even if her fatherdid hide her away and deny the same, which is against all articles o'war, besides bein' most disrespectful of service regulations. But inconsideration of your previous good conduct we will not mention thatnow. "

I turns to the gen'ral. "You, se�or gen'ral, do you believe me an honestman?" And without even lookin' at me he says, "Pff--a foolishqueschee-own, se�or admiral. I have known you are honest from themo-ment I have seen you spendin' your money foolishly at the hotel. Andbrave--as all American sailormen are brave. "

"Tis well, " I says. "And you"--I turned to the little captain--"you, Ifear me, sir, will have to take my honesty for granted. Now I'll be thejudge. Do you"--I faces the gen'ral again--"agree? 'Cause if you don'tyou an' me'll have to hop up on deck and fight it out. "

The gen'ral was still lookin' up at the little captain's daughter. "Silence gives consent, " I says. "And now, " I says, "it's the young ladywill say the word. Attend me, se�orita. This young man here, but twomoments agone, up on deck declared to me, while below the blue Caribbeanthe sun like a fine ripe orange was sinkin', and likewise the SouthernCross was shinin', lopsided, like a blessin' in the southwest overtoward where the hills o' South America would 'a' been if we could 'a'seen 'em--to me, on this occasion, this young man declared he loved you. This young man--attend me, and not him, fair lady, please--and a gallantyoung man he is--I never knew a gallanter on such short notice--thisyoung man on the occasion aforementioned declared to me that he lovesyou and wants you to wife. What have you to say to this charge? Do youlove him or do you not? Take your time in answerin'. "

And I stood to one side. She was still lookin' at the gen'ral and him ather. Just once she looked at her father and once at me--and I winked byway of encouragement--and she looked at her gen'ral again, and lookedand looked, till all at once the gen'ral just nachally stepped acrossthe cabin floor and took her in his arms. 

"Look here, boy, " I says, stern-like, "ain't that kind o' rushin'things? Have you a steady job--outside o' privateerin'?"

"I do not work. I have money, " he says over her shoulder. 

"Real money? Or this kind?" and I points to the bales of new bills inthe little captain's room. 

"I have gold in the bank and much sugar plantations. "

"Then, orer pro nobis, she is yours, " I says, and waves my armsbeneficent-like over the pair of them. "And you and me, " I says to theold man, "as I don't see how we c'n help it, what d'ye say if we twocall the war off and have a few lemon swizzles with ice in 'em?"

And I draws a jug o' Santiago rum, and there was lemons an' sugar and alittle ice, and we foregathers like a couple of old shipmates after aforeign cruise. And when, in the mornin', from out of the smoothCaribbean Sea the rosy sun came swimmin' we was right there, joyous as aliberty party on pay-day, to greet it. And the gen'ral and the se�oritaalso saluted the goddess o' the mornin', and after breakfast we all wentashore, and that night I danced a taranteller at the weddin'. And, believe me, there's class to a good taranteller dancer. 

And likewise that night, with the silver moon risin' like a goddess o'wisdom above the smooth Caribbean, and me and the little captain mixin'lemon swizzles on the veranda of the gen'ral's plantation _hacienda_, the little captain says to me: "I love you as one son. You shall becaptain of my ship. " And as a sort of weddin' legacy he bequeathes to meall the money was in the schooner when the gen'ral and me captured her. 

And next mornin' I took up my quarters on the schooner, with the crewsof the schooner and the brigantine for body-servants. And I had one goodtime. There was a basket there--a basket about the size of a good-sizedwash-basket--and every mornin' I'd shovel a lot of money into that. Oh, I don' know how much, maybe two or three or four or five or six hundredthousand dollars, and I'd say to the cook, or maybe one of the deckforce: "Here you, Fernando, go on up now an' hurry back. " And theyweren't bad traders at all. In a couple of hours they'd come hustlingback with the full o' the basket o' chickens, eggs, butter, cheese, bologny, and fruit--everything a man 'd want for breakfast--in place o'the money. Fifty thousand dollars a day apiece I paid the crew, and goodand plenty for them--a lot o' lazy loafers. It used to take three of 'emto buckle me into my uniform of a hot morning. 

I never knew how much money was in that pile, but three or four, ormaybe five or six hundred million dollars. And maybe I didn't live onthe fat o' the land with it, for eight weeks! It would 'a' lasted longeronly it was the divil tryin' to be thrifty with my admiral's uniform on, and then one mornin' the _Hiawatha_ came to port, and with what I hadleft--forty or fifty million, or whatever it was--I gave a farewellparty that night at the hotel where the banana grove was in the yard. Iwore my admiral's uniform for the last time that night, and maybe thatmade 'em charge me a little more, but no matter that. In the mornin' Ididn't have hardly enough to tip the waiters, three or four hundredthousand dollars, maybe, but--whatever it was, I tips 'em with it, andgoes down to the beach to where the little, old, homely _Hiawatha_ waslaying to anchor, and 'twas eight o'clock and the bugler was soundingcolors and it made me feel homesick, and I waves my hand back to thetown, and "Fare thee well, O Tangarine-a, " I says, "Tangarine-a, farethee well. " Secretary o' the navy I could 'a' been, I know, but backaboard the old _Hiawatha_ I goes. And damn glad, you betcher, I was tobe there. 

But an admiral of the Blue I was once, with a hogshead of nothin' lessthan thousand-dollar bills; and I helped to make two young people happy. And no one c'n take that from me. And so I say when people say there'sno good in revolutions you refer 'em to me, Killorin, bosun's mate, U. S. N. -I'll tell 'em. 

THE BATTLE-CRUISE OF THE "SVEND FOYN"

At this time I had drifted down South America way, and was master of acombination whaling and sealing steamer sailing out of Punta 'renas forthe firm of Amundsen & Co. 

Punta Arenas, if you don't happen to know, is at the tip end ofPatagonia, in the Magellan Straits. It is now a highly respectable placeunder the Chilean flag, but there was a time it wasn't. All kinds ofhuman wreckage used to drift onto the west coast of South America inthose days, and when the Chilean Government couldn't take care of themany other way they would ship them down through the straits to Punta'renas. At the time I was there most of the bad ones had been run out, but every now and then a few of the old crew would pop up and worrypeople into thinking Punta 'renas must still be a hard place, which itwasn't. 

Mr. Amundsen lived in a big house up on the plaza where the bandstandwas, with a fine open-air veranda in front and a glassed-inconservatory on the side, and aft of the house a garden with a waterfallmodelled after something he had left behind him in Norway. He designedthe waterfall himself, and over the grandpiano in the front room lookingout on the plaza was an oil-painting of it--a whale of a painting, doneby a stranded Scandinavian who told Mr. Amundsen he'd seen thatidentical waterfall in Norway many a time, which perhaps he had. 

We didn't like Mr. Amundsen any the less because of his collection ofold sagas which he used to spin out for hours on end. Whoppers, some ofthem were, but we, his whaling and sealing captains, we'd sit there andnever let on, eating thin Norwegian bread and goats' cheese and driedchips of ptarmigan, with Trondhjem beer, and none of us but would havesat longer any time, so that after he got through there was a chance tohear his daughter Hilda play the grandpiano--and sing, maybe, while sheplayed. And I tell you, the thought of that fine old Norwegian and Hildaafter months of banging around to the west'ard of Cape Horn in a littlewhaling steamer--it was surely like coming home to be home-bound then. 

Norwegian songs were they, and I, American-born, and only halfScandinavian by blood, was probably the one man coming to Amundsen'swho didn't know every word of them by heart. But not much of thesentiment of them I missed at that, because in other days I'd cruisedoff Norway, too, and knew the places the songs told about--thehigh-running fjords and the little white lighthouses; the fish drying onthe rocks and the night sun floating just above the edge of the graysea; and, again, the long black night of winter and the dead piled up towait till they could be buried when the snow went in the spring. 

But shore time in Punta 'renas was holiday time. Wet days, hard days atsea have their time, too; and Mr. Amundsen and Hilda and Punta 'renaswere a long way behind me. I was whaling and sealing in the SouthPacific, and had been doing pretty well, but nothing record-breakingtill one day I picked up a lot of ambergris. 

Now I could have stocked a million dollars in a regular way and nobodypay any great attention; but the tale of that find went through half theSouth Pacific. A dozen whaling and sealing masters boarded me in onemonth to see if it was so, and after I'd told them the story of it aboutforty-five times, I began to see myself telling it to old Amundsen andHilda in the big front room looking out on the plaza, her father and Ihaving a late supper of flat bread and the goats' cheese and the driedptarmigan chips, with Trondhjem beer, and Hilda playing softly on thepiano with an eye and an ear maybe sidewise now and again to me. 

And now we were truly homeward bound in old Magellan Straits, with thehills back of Punta 'renas in sight from our masthead, when we spied aNorwegian bark with a deckload of lumber ashore on the spit of PouvenirBay, which is on the southerly--the Terra del Fuego--shore of thestraits. Her ensign was upside down in her rigging, and I headed in tosee if we could help her out. I thought it was queer no one showed upaboard her to answer when I hailed, but no matter--I moored my steamerjust inside the spit and put off with half a dozen men in a boat andwent aboard. 

Nobody on her deck, nobody in her below for-'ard. I went aft and droppedinto her cabin, my men behind me, and we were peeking here and there tosee what it was could be wrong, when slap! on goes the cabin hatch overour heads. Then we hear the padlock slipped on and the lock sprung. Weare prisoners, without even a peek at who it was did it. 

We heard them going off. Without waiting any longer, I began slashingaway with my pocket-knife, the only knife among us, and by and by I hadcut our way through the cabin door; but that took a lot of time. Fromthe bark's deck, when we were clear, there was nothing in sight exceptour own steamer to anchor in the bay beyond the spit. The boat we hadcome in was gone. 

Well, we weren't worrying about the boat, only we had to take the timeto lash together twenty or thirty pine planks and some scantling fromthe bark's deckload of lumber and raft ourselves around the spit andinto the little bay to get to our steamer. Everything about her lookedall right, except that none of the crew were in sight when we paddledalongside. I hurried over the rail to see what was the matter. It didn'ttake long to see. The hatches were off her hold and our sealskins andour ambergris gone from below. A fortune it was, gone--s-st!--like that. 

Looking further, we found the rest of the crew nicely locked up in thefo'c's'le. They didn't know what happened, except that some men had comerowing in from the direction of the lumber bark in our boat, and one ofthem had sung out in English and another in Norwegian that they were thecrew of the bark, with a message from me. 

My crew, of course, said: "Come aboard. " But no sooner aboard than thestrangers out with revolvers, back my men into the fo'c's'le, and lockthem in. That was all they knew about that, except they heard the noiseof the hurrying of our cargo out of the hold, and then the sound of asteamer making fast alongside and of shifting our cargo to her deck andof her moving away. And then all quiet till we came back. 

Well, whoever did it must have had us timed pretty well. They must havehad a gang hid in the lumber bark and a steamer hid somewhere in thestraits near by waiting for us. It looked as if there was nothing for usto do but take our loss and keep on for Punta 'renas, but first I wentto the masthead and had a look out. 

Opposite Pouvenir Bay the Straits of Magellan are at their widest. Fromthe crow's-nest there was a good stretch of sea to look at. To thewest'ard was a touch of smoke, which might be the steamer which lootedus; surely she didn't go to the east'ard, for there it was open waterwith nothing in sight. To the northward, toward Patagonia, of course, she would not go, because Punta 'renas was there. But I had a look thatway, and as I looked I could see what looked like an open boat headingour way; and I wondered who she would be and what she would be after ina place like Terra del Fuego. 

They came skipping on at a great clip for an open boat. They wererunning her to a long main-sheet, but keeping a tight hand on thesheet. 

[Illustration: The strangers out with revolvers, back my men into thefo'c's'le, and lock them in. ]

As they drew nearer I see she was white-painted, and pretty soon I seeshe was too big to be anything but a navy sailing cutter, and soon againI made out that they were a crew of American naval officers andbluejackets. 

They went out of their way some to sweep under the stern of the bark, and I noticed they all took a look up at her and back at her, wondering, as I thought, how she came to go ashore. They held on for the inside ofthe bay and ran straight up onto a little reach of pebbly beach; and nosooner grounded than most of them went tearing across the spit withrifles and shotguns. I see what they were now--it was a hunting party. 

Without wasting a second they began to blaze away at the wild ducks asthey came swooping down from the west. In that country the wild gamedon't know what a man looks like, and as it was late in the afternoon, with the ducks coming back for the night from the west'ard, the shootingwas good. Swooping along the shore they came, across the mouth of thebay, flock after flock so close-set and low-lying that they didn't needguns. They could have sat on the beach and hove up stones or drift-woodand killed 'em as they went kiting by, sixty miles or more an hour tothe east'ard. 

After twenty minutes or so they must have thought that kind of shootingwas too easy, for part of them went off into the brush and the otherscame back to the spit of beach and, with some kindlings from their boatand some drift-wood and brush, started a fire. It was a north wind, andI could smell the ducks cooking and the coffee making, and I couldn'thold off any longer. I rowed myself over in our second boat. The seniorline officer of the party, a lieutenant, invited me to join them, whichI did, and pretty soon I was eating broiled duck and drinking realAmerican coffee, with bacon and eggs, and forgetting my troubles. 

After supper we sat around and talked, and they told me what hadhappened to the lumber bark. She had been lured inshore by false lightsthe night before and boarded by a gang under Red Dick, who had cleanedher out of stores and what money they had, and had driven the crew offin the morning after beating up most of them by way of divertinghimself. Then the bark's captain and his crew rowed across the Straitsof Punta Arenas in their quarter-boat, looking for satisfaction. Nobodythere could do anything for them, because nothing less than a war-shipcould have overcome Red Dick, and there was no Chilean war-ship nearerthan Valparaiso, and that was six days' steaming away. 

"But how did that lumber captain know it was Red Dick?" I asked at thispoint. 

"He didn't know, " answered the officer who'd been talking. "But when hedescribed him everybody in Punta Arenas said it was Red Dick. But aren'tyou an American?"

I said I was and told them my experience, and they all said what a pitymy ship wasn't under the American flag so they could put it up to theircaptain and be sure he would send a party after Red Dick. And they wouldall like nothing better than to join that party, and an easy matter all'round, as their ship was to be hanging around the straits for anotherweek. 

By this time the others of the party, who'd gone into the brush for wildgeese, were coming back. They didn't get any geese, because geese, wildgeese, anyway, aren't near so foolish as a lot of people think. Theywere hungry and sat right down to supper. 

Among them, as I looked, was one I knew for Peter Lawson, an oldshipmate. A warrant officer I saw he was now, but when I knew him he wasa chief carpenter's mate on the old _Missalama_. We kept eying eachother, and by and by he remembered, and we stood up and shook handsacross the fire. In half a minute we were talking of old days in thenavy. 

By this time it was late day, with the sun going down below the hills onthe other side of Pouvenir Bay. I remember it went down red as the heartof the fire we were sitting by. Through the little thin whiffs of thesmoke of the fire it looked like that--all hot color and no flame. Nothing to that, of course, only pictures like that do start your brainto going. The little bay was there at our feet and the wide straits offto our elbow, and the water of that bay was smooth green where itshoaled on the pebbly spit; but the straits, as far as we could seethem, were one long roll of tossing ridges and scooping hollows, andthey were all black except where the williwaws, cutting across the tide, would whip the ridges to a marble white. 

I saw the sun set red through the thin blue smoke of the fire, andalmost in line with the sun and the smoke was the stranded bark with herdeckload of lumber. A little farther off was my own little _Svend Foyn_. It was coming on dark by then and I could see them making ready theanchor light on the _Svend Foyn_. And it was coming colder, too, for thebroad, warm north wind had changed to a thin little icy wind from thesouth. 

And now the fiery-red reflection of the sun was gone from above thehills across the bay, and when that went all warmth went with it. Everybody drew nearer to the fire except the two apprentice boys, whowere cleaning up the mess gear in water made hot at a little fire oftheir own. One of them was singing to himself little jiggly, ragtimesongs while he wiped the dishes:

 "Oh-h, ahm gwine down to Macon town Ter buy mah 'Liza Jane a gown-- Ah feel so happy 'n' ah don' know why, Mah bai-bie, mah hon-ie!"

Every time he stacked up a few plates he would stop to roll a few morecake-walk steps. 

"I wish I was feeling as good as you!" I said to myself while I watchedhim. 

And, watching him, I got to thinking of Hilda in the big front room inwhat was home for me--and of having to tell her what a failure my cruisehad been. It did set me to thinking. 

All at once it came to me, and "I've got it!" I said, not knowing I saidit out loud until I saw that everybody around the fire was looking atme; and at last Peter said, "What's it you got?"

And I told them what I had in mind, and they all thought it was a greatscheme--if I could carry it out. And the lieutenant in charge of theparty said: "And we'll help you; but not to-night--the first thing inthe morning after a good night's sleep. "

We had a good sleep that night, sleeping till sunrise on the pebblybeach with the mainsail of the sailing cutter for a tent over us. And inthe morning the first thing after breakfast I pulled the lumber bark offthe beach and moored her in the bay. That was so she wouldn't break upand go to pieces the first gale of wind came along; and, as after thatservice I figured her owners wouldn't call it stealing, I helped myselfto a few thousand feet of lumber off her deck, and we all set to work tomake the _Svend Foyn_ over into what her builder back in Norwaycertainly never intended her for. 

First, we built up her topsides to make a superstructure, and then addedthe other things a first-class battle-ship ought to have. The _SvendFoyn_ had two masts and one smoke-stack. The two masts were all right. We had only to set fighting-tops around them, but she would be a poorclass of a battle-ship with only one smoke-stack. So we gave her twomore. We painted her lower sides white and her topsides yellow-brown, and for turrets we had one to each end with what was intended for12-inch gun muzzles sticking out of them. And we allowed the ends ofwhat looked like twelve 7-inch black boys to peek through the sides ofwhat we called her gun-deck. Two of those 7-inch muzzles were realmuzzles, that is, black-tarred wood like the others, but they werehollow so we could train a bomb-lance whaling-gun through them, one toeach side. When we got that far they said I would have to name her, andI called her the _Cape Horn_, and there being no flag that any of us hadever heard of for Terra del Fuego, we made one for her out of threepieces of green, red, and purple cloth, and broke it out to hermain-peak. 

And when that little round-bowed, fat-sterned whaler waddled out ofPouvenir Bay that afternoon there wasn't a thing that one lieutenant, one ensign, one doctor, a warrant carpenter, and sixteen enlisted men ofthe United States Navy could see she was shy of, except a wirelessoutfit, and we soon fixed that by stringing a stretch of old wirebetween her masts, with half a dozen old barrel hoops for a wirelessplant, and for fear there was anybody of Red Dick's party who knewbattle-ships only from pictures, I had the stokers keep feeding herfires with whale-oil. After that, with the clouds of smoke belching outof her, I felt sure nobody could doubt us--especially at a distance. 

We gave three whistles and dipped the ensign to our navy friends, andfor the rest of that day and night, and all next day and night, westeamed through the straits toward the Pacific. And on the secondmorning we turned north and ran in among the islands off the Chileancoast; and pretty soon we ran into the place I was bound for--abottle-shaped passage with a narrow inlet to each end and the shadow ofthe Andes Mountains darkening all. And, laying to moorings there, was acargo steamer of perhaps fifteen hundred tons. Even if she wasn't toobig a steamer to be loafing there, I knew her of old. Red Dick washandy. I took a look around to the north'ard, and at the other end ofthe passage and jam in to the high rocks was a whaling steamer about ourown tonnage. I also knew her of old. 

I might as well say now that Red Dick and I weren't strangers. We usedto be sort of friends, but not since the day we walked up the longtimber pier in Punta 'renas together and met Hilda with her father. Shewas straight from school in Norway then, and 'twas the first time we'dseen her. We looked out together on the wonderful straits, and 'twas meshe walked home with. 

But that was a year back, and it was other business now. I had now tomake an impression, and right away, to back up our battle-ship looks. Sowe cut loose and gave them, port and starboard, one after the other, twenty-one whaling bombs in good, regulation style. They made aterrible racket against the Andes Mountains, which come down here to thewater's edge. 

[Illustration: 'Twas me she walked home with. ]

And Red Dick's gang must have thought we were some awful power, forthere was soon great doings on the deck of the whaling steamer. Smokebegan to come out of her, and pretty soon she began to move; but when webore down, with a great white wave ahead of us and rolls of smoke overus, they quit. Two boats dropped over her side and headed for a bit ofbeach, and twenty men scurried off and lost themselves in holes betweenthe rocks. We shot a few bombs over their heads just to let them know wewere a rich nation with ammunition to spare. The echoes coming backsounded like a battle-fleet saluting port in foreign waters. 

We boarded Red Dick's steamer, and there were our sealskins andambergris. There were also four or five thousand other fine sealskinswhich weren't ours, but which we took along, knowing they weren't RedDick's. And with Red Dick's steamer in charge of six of my crew behindus, we started back the way we came. In steaming past the cargo steamerwe counted four long glasses levelled at us. 

The first likely place we came to we hauled to and shifted Red Dick'scargo to the _Svend Foyn_. By this time, with the ambergris back andfive thousand extra sealskins below, all hands were willing to take amoderate chance on almost anything. We swung away for the straits, butnot making great headway. The little old _Svend Foyn_ was never anywonder for steaming. At her best she could do perhaps ten miles an hour. Now, with all her battle-ship topgear and with the wind ahead, she wasdoing perhaps six. 

It began to breeze up, but nothing for us to worry over until we saw asteamer's smoke coming up astern. We were then clear of the coastislands and into the straits, with wind and sea fighting each other. 

I had another good look at the steamer coming up astern, and took myprize crew off Red Dick's whaler and turned her adrift. I hated to. Notalone the prize money, but to see a good ship go to loss any time isbad. I did it in hopes that the cargo steamer coming upon us would stopto get her, and while they were getting her--what with the gale and thedark coming--we would be able to slip away. But they didn't stop. Perhaps the little whaler was too close in to the cliffs for the bigsteamer to have a chance in the tide that was running. They let her pileup against the cliffs, and came on and ranged up abreast of us. Red Dickwas on her bridge. She came so close to us that I could almost havejumped aboard. It was blowing pretty hard at the time, but she wasmaking easy weather of it--a good sea-boat. We weren't. The williwaws, which are what they call the hard squalls off the high hills down there, were having a great time with out battle-ship topsides. She wassomething of a roller on her own account at any time, the _Svend Foyn_, but now she rolled her wooden turrets under and every once in a whileher bridge. 

Red Dick leaned over the bridge rail and laughed. He looked the _SvendFoyn's_ top gear over and laughed again. "Blank shells and wooden guns!"he called out. "Fine! Any more left?"

"Oh, " I said, "not all blanks and not all wooden, and a few left--yes. "

"So?" he says, and gives an order. A man pulls a tarpaulin off a longneedle-gun amidships. "Got anything like that in your battery?" he callsout. 

I looked it over as if I was interested. At the same time I made a signto my mate behind me. I'd long before this loaded my two whalingbomb-lance guns, but this time I put in them the lances, which were ofsteel, weighed eighty pounds, and were four and a half feet long--not abad little projectile at all. 

"What's it for?" I called out, pointing to his needle-gun. 

"What's it for?" he mimics. "What d'y' think it's for?"

I shake my head. "I could never guess. "

"Well, you will soon. You know me?"

"I do. And you know me?"

"I know you, and I'll take no chances with you. I'm going to heave you aline and take you in tow. "

"I don't remember flying any signals for a tow. "

"No? Well, I think you'd be better off for a tow. Take my line. "

"We don't want your line. "

"Take my line or I'll blow a few holes in you, and while you're on yourway to the bottom of the straits--all hands of you--I'll ram you to makesure. "

"You're foolish to sink us, " I says, "till you take off the ambergrisand the sealskins. "

He began to get mad. "Take my line or take a shell from this gun. Whichis it?" he yells. 

His gun was trained on our midship topsides. I couldn't see where he wasgoing to sink us, leastwise not with one shot, so, "Come aboard withyour shell!" I called out, and he did. I didn't look to see what damagethe shell did in passing, but it went clear through our pine topsidesone side and out the other. 

I'd already passed the word to my mate, and wh-r-oo! went thefour-and-a-half-foot bomb-lance from the inside of one of ourmake-believe seven-inch rifles. The lance tore through just above thewater-line of Red Dick's steamer. The bomb exploded inside her hull. Through the hold the sea rushed, and from her deck below came whoops ofsurprise. 

I rolled the little fat _Svend Foyn_ around. She near capsized inturning, especially as Red Dick let me have two more from his needle-gunwhile we were coming around. One of them burst inside, but didn't killanybody. Around came the _Svend Foyn_. 

"Her water-line!" I yelled, and we let her have it. And again we gave itto her. They both went home. 

Red Dick quit laughing. He ran down from the bridge and out of sightbelow. Pretty soon, through her sides, as we hear him and his gangyelling, came the ends of blankets and mattresses, to keep the sea outof the holes we'd made. 

And while they are at that we give them another. And that settled it. Five minutes before, I had an idea we might have to go to thebottom--s-sst! like that. And now Red Dick and his cargo steamer werebelting through the tide rips toward the Terra del Fuego shore, to finda bay, I suppose, and a bit of a beach to haul up and patch things. AndI couldn't help thinking as he went that he'd lost a desperatereputation about as easy as any ever I heard of; but I might as wellalso say now that I'd been shipmates with Red Dick, and I always didbelieve he was a good deal of a bluff. But my crew didn't think that. There was great rejoicing among them, and I let them rejoice so long asthey didn't stop setting things to rights. 

We were shook up some--our bridge loosened up, our wireless hoopshanging droopy, our two fake smoke-stacks lying over on their sides, andthe for'ard turret with some dents in it; but bow first, and in peaceand quiet, we steamed on. And we were still steaming in peace and quietwhen we made Punta Arenas. 

And, steaming in, I thought I might as well do it in style. Here wewere, a victorious battle-ship entering a foreign port, and so I hoistedour international code--spelling it out that we were the _Cape Horn_ ofthe Terra del Fuegan navy, and asking permission to anchor. The captainof the American battle-ship was standing on his bridge as we steameddown the line, with a man in our chains heaving the lead, my mate on thefore-bridge and myself on the after-bridge, a quartermaster to thewheel, and the second mate spying, busy as could be, through a longglass; and not alone the captain, but the nine hundred and odd officersand men of the American battle-ship roared in review of us. The otherships in port didn't know what to make of it no way. 

We came around and dropped our young anchor, splash! and saluted theport--twenty-one guns from our bomb-lance things. 

Our lieutenant of the hunting party seemed to be officer of the deck onthe real battle-ship. "How'd you come out?" he hails. 

"We met the enemy and their loot is ours, " I answers. 

"Captain Fenton presents his compliments and would like to have you comeaboard, " he hails. 

And I went aboard, sitting in the stern-sheets of my second boat, withthe red, green, and purple flag trailing astern and eight men to theoars. And they gave me two bosun's pipes with four side-boys and twolong ruffles from the drums as I came over the side, and in thecaptain's cabin I told him what the officers of the hunting partycouldn't tell him already. And he thought it the best story he'd heardin a long time. 

I thought it was a pretty good story myself, and told it again to Mr. Amundsen on the same long pier where I had first met him with Hilda, andhe said the blood of the old vikings must be in my veins, and uncorkedfour solid hours of the old sagas, finishing up in the big front roomwith fiat bread and goats' cheese and dried ptarmigan chips andTrondhjem beer. 

By and by I got a chance to tell it to Hilda--that and a little morewhile I was telling it. The band, a fine band, too, was playing theirSunday-night concert out in the plaza. I remember how the music madepictures in my brain while I talked, though I never could remember whatthey played. 

However, that's no matter. Hilda says I told the story right that night. And I've told it many a time since--to her and the children when I'mhome from sea. They are good children, who believe everything that istold them--even the sagas of their grandfather. 

THE LAST PASSENGER

Meade was having his coffee in the smoking-room. Major Crupp came in andtook a seat beside him. 

A watchful steward hurried over. "Coffee, sir?"

"Please. "

"Cigarette, Major?" asked Meade. 

"I will--thanks. "

Lavis came in. Both men passed the greetings of the evening with him, and then Meade, at least, forgot that he existed. Only interestingpeople were of value to Meade, and he had early in the passage appraisedLavis--one of those negligible persons whose habit was to hover nearsome group of notables and look at them or listen to them, and, ifencouraged, join in the conversation, or, if invited, take a hand in agame of cards. 

"Seen Cadogan since dinner, Major?" asked Meade. 

"He's patrolling the deck right now. "

"With the beautiful lady?"

"Nope--alone. "

"Thank God! And where is she?"

"Oh, she's nicely enthroned, thank you, in an angle of the loungeroomwith that sixty-millionaire coal baron, Drissler. "

"It's bath-tubs, and he's only got twenty millions. "

"The poor beggar! Well, Meade, if ever she gets within shelling distanceof his little twenty millions they'll melt like a dobey house in therain. "

"No doubt of that, I guess. And yet--and yet up to late this afternoon, at least, she appeared to be delighting in the presence of Cadogan. "

"She surely did. But"--Major Crupp eyed Meade quizzically--"what are youworrying about?"

"I'm afraid she hasn't really shook him. I know too much about her. Thetwenty millions would be nice to draw upon, but her one unquenchablepassion is man, and in build, looks, age, and temperament Cadogan isjust one rich prize. But how do you account for Cadogan? He's certainlybright enough in other matters. "

Crupp projected three smoke rings across the table at Meade. "I wasstationed in the wilds of the Philippines one time. The native womenwhere I was were unwashed, bow-legged, black creatures about four feethigh. After three years of it I returned home in a government transport. I landed in San Francisco. At first I thought it was a dream. "

"Thought what was a dream, Major?"

"The women going by. I posted myself on the corner of two streets, andthere I stood transfixed, except every ten minutes or so, when I'd runinto the hotel bar behind me and have another drink. And I'd come outagain, and I'd take another look at those big, beautiful, upstandingcreatures floating by, hosts and hosts of 'em, and I'd whisper tomyself: 'Cruppie, you're dead. You've been boloed on outpost and gone toheaven, and you don't know it. ' And googoo-eyed I kept staring at 'em, investing every last one of 'em with a double halo, till a long, splayfooted, thin-necked hombre in a policeman's uniform came along andsays: 'Here, you, I've been pipin' you off for about four hours now. About time you moved on, ain't it?' Lord, and not one of 'em thatcouldn't have married me on the spot, I held 'em in such respect. "

"Thick, wasn't he?"

"I thought so--then. But I wonder if Caddie would think we were thick, too, if we told him to move on? He's just back, remember, from two yearsin the jungle, and her eyes haven't changed color and her hair stillshines like a new gold shoulder-knot at dress parade. She is stillbeautiful--and clever. "

"Clever? She's surely that; but he's only a boy, Major. "

"M-m--twenty-six!"

"What's twenty-six? He's still a dreaming boy. I'd like to say what Ireally thought of her. "

"Don't. They'd be having a squad of stewards in here to police the placeafter you got through. "

"Why don't you give him a hint?"

"Huh! No, no, Mister Meade--I'm still young and fair. You break it tohim. Who knows, your age may save you from being projected through thenearest embrasure!" Crupp crushed the smoking end of his cigaretteagainst the ash-tray. "I'll have to run along now. "

"Back soon?"

"After I've said good night to two or three dear old ladies in theloungeroom before they go below. "

"And two or three dear young ladies who won't be going below. "

"Don't be saucy, Meade. You look out of uniform when you try to besaucy. Exactness as to fact and luminosity of language--that's you, ifyou please. "

"Bring Vogel on your way back. "

"If I can detach him from his beloved maps. Forty millions in railroadshe's got now. And colored maps of 'em he's got. He gloats over 'em---gloats, every night before he turns in. "

"Hurry him up, anyway. And drive Cadogan in. I'll get him going on a fewadventures, and make him forget his beautiful lady. "

 * * * * *

Lavis had been sitting on the transom. He always seemed to be sitting onthe transom--a long, lean, huddled-up figure in the corner, looking outwith half-closed eyes on the life of the smoking-room. 

Cadogan came in. Meade revolved the chair next to him at the table, sothat Cadogan had only to fall into it. Cadogan abstractedly nodded histhanks. Catching sight of Lavis, he nodded and smiled. 

With eyes staring absently into space Cadogan was drumming on the tablewith his fingers. 

"Sounds like some tom-tom march you're trying to play, " interruptedMeade, and proffered a cigar. Cadogan shook his head. 

"No?" Meade dropped his cigar placidly back into its case. "But listenhere, Cadogan. As a writer and newspaper man, my main business in lifeis to discover people who know more than other people about someparticular thing, and then get it out of them. What about thisocean-liner travelling of to-day--is it perfectly safe?"

"The safest mode of travel ever devised--or should be. "

"But lives are lost?"

"Surely. And probably will be. But they should not be--not on the highsea--except in a collision, and then probably one ship or the other isto blame. Even inshore, if they keep their lead and foghorn going, andsteam up to kick her off, nothing will happen either, unless"--heshrugged his shoulders--"they've gone foolish or something else on thebridge. "

Meade questioned further. And Cadogan answered briefly, abstractedly, until--Meade growing more cunning and subtle--he was led into citing oneexperience after another from out of his own life in proof of this orthat side of an argument. 

Cadogan had begun in short, snappy sentences, and in a tense, ratherhigh-keyed voice; but once warmed up he swung along in rounded, almostclassic periods; and his voice deepened and softened and, as he becameyet more absorbed in his subject, grew rhythmical, musical almost, thewhile his words took on added color and glow. 

Once in full swing it was not difficult for Meade to get him to run on;and he ran on for an hour, and would have gone on indefinitely only, suddenly coming to himself and looking around, he discovered that halfthe room had gathered in a semicircle behind his chair. He flushed, cuthis story short, and said no more. The crowd dispersed to their variousseats. 

Presently Meade observed: "How did you ever find time in your young lifefor the half of it? And how you do suggest things--possibilities thattry a man's spirit even to contemplate!"

Cadogan did not respond; but from Lavis, the man on the transom, came:"And now you are suggesting the really great adventuring!"

Meade turned in surprise. "What is that?"

"Isn't it in the spirit we have the really great adventures?"

Meade studied him curiously. "You mean that the most thrillingadventures are those we only dream about, but which never happen?"

"I didn't mean exactly that, for they do happen. What I meant was thatto try your body was nothing, but to try your soul--try it to theutmost--there would be something. "

"To risk it or try it?" asked Meade. 

"Oh, to try it only. To risk it, would not that be sinful?"

Cadogan's instinctive liking for Lavis had led him from the beginningof the voyage to take a keen interest in whatever he might do or say;but until to-night he had found him a most unobtrusive and taciturn man. He had a feeling that this man, who before to-night had barely said morethan good morning and good night to him, understood him much better thandid Meade, the professional observer, who was forever questioning him. The answer to Meade's last question stirred him particularly, because hefelt that it was meant, not for Meade, but for himself. 

Thinking of Meade, who was a famous author and journalist, Cadogan saidhesitatingly and shyly: "I've often thought I'd like to be a writer. " Hemeant that for Lavis, but it was Meade who took it to himself to ask himwhy. 

"If I were a writer, I'd have hope right now of taking part in one ofthe greatest adventures that could befall a man. "

"Where, Cadogan?"

"Right aboard this ship. How? Here we are tearing through the icebergcountry trying to make a record. If ever we piled up head on to one ofthose icebergs, where would we be?"

"But it is a clear night. And the lookouts. "

"Never mind the clear night--or the lookouts if they are not lookingout. "

"But this ship can't sink. "

"No? But suppose she can sink, and that she is sinking. There are fourthousand people aboard--and down she goes. Wouldn't that be anexperience?"

With meditative eyes directed down to the ashes at the end of his cigar, Meade mulled over the question. "A great adventure it surely would be, "he at length emitted from behind a puff of smoke. "The right man, agreat writer, for instance, if he could live through that, would make aworld's epic of it. "

Cadogan wondered what the man on the transom was thinking of. He put hisnext question directly to him. "There would be some great deaths in suchan event, don't you think, sir?" His own eyes were glowing. 

"Some great deaths, surely--and some horrible ones, doubtless, too. "

"Oh, but men would die like gods at such a time!"

"No doubt--and like dogs also. "

Meade did not relish losing control of the conversation to anundistinguished outsider. "Look here, Cadogan, " he interjected; "could aman live through that--go down with the ship and survive?"

"He could survive the sinking--yes; but he would not live long--not inwater near icebergs. The numbness soon creeps up to your heart, andthen----"

"But how could a man do it and live?"

"Why, sir, do you insist that he should live?" It was Lavis who hadspoken. 

Meade's eyebrows rose above the tops of his horn glasses. "Eh!" Cadogan, too, stared at Lavis. 

"To live after it would be only to half complete the adventure. We beganby speaking of an adventure in the spirit. To make a real, a greatadventure of it, should not the man die?"

Meade now smiled with obvious tolerance. "But a man dead and buried inthe depths of the sea!"

"That would only be his body, and we were speaking of an adventure ofthe spirit--of the soul. The man should experience every physical dread, every nervous fear, every emotional horror of those last few minutes, share the bitterness of the disillusionment inevitable when three orfour thousand ordinary, every-day human beings are dying in despair, because, as they would judge it, dying so needlessly. To get the fullmeasure of it, and to share also in the sweetness and resignation ofgreat souls in the hour of death, would not his mortal body have to meetdeath, even as the others?"

Meade readjusted his horned spectacles. He would have to revise hisnotes of the man, that was plain. Forty, or forty-five possibly, he was. Tall and large-framed, but spare, thin-cheeked, and hollow-templed, withwhite streaks among the close-clipped, very black, and very thick hairwhich showed from under his cap. A worn-looking man, a student. M-m--hehad him now--a teacher of the classics in some college, possibly a youngwomen's college. 

"To get back to our steamer and your extraordinary proposition, "suggested Meade; "you say that the man should actually die?"

"Surely die. And he should face death even as our highly vitalized youngfriend here faces life. Mr. Cadogan, coming back to us from perilousexperiences, makes us share with him in every tremor, every dread, everythought he himself felt in his adventure. And how does he manage to dothat? Isn't it because in the perilous moment his soul remains tranquil?If death comes, well and good--it cannot be helped; if not, then aglorious adventure. He meets danger with every faculty keyed up to thehighest. Now, if a man would meet his death, as this steamer went down, in the same mood, would he not march into the shadows with a soulennobled?"

"And then what?"

"Then? If we are heirs in spirit even as in body will God ever allow agreat spirit to become extinct?"

Meade abandoned his young-ladies'-teacher supposition. He speared theman with another glance. "Pardon me, you are not a scientist?"

Lavis smiled--for the first time. "Do I talk like one?"

"You do not believe, then, in present-day scientific methods?"

"I believe in any constructive method, but"--he betrayed a shadow ofimpatience--"why limit our beliefs to what can be proved with asurgeon's knife?"

Meade thought he remembered that Roman Catholic priests were on specialoccasions allowed to travel without the outer garb of their calling; butwould a priest talk so freely to a stranger? And yet--"You must have hada religious training at some time in your life?"

Lavis smiled again, but more slowly. "You are persistent, Mr. Meade. "

"I beg your pardon. It is the journalist's interviewing habit. And Ithought I recalled, also----"

Lavis seemed to be waiting for Meade to finish, but Meade, who suddenlyrealized to what he was leading, did not finish; and Lavis turned hishead so as to look squarely at Cadogan. Through the half-closed, wistfuleyes Cadogan caught a gleam that he again felt was an answer to Meade'sunfinished question, and yet was again meant, not for Meade, but forhimself. 

"But to return, " persisted Meade; "how is the world to benefit by yourtheory that God does not allow a great spirit to die?"

"Well, call it theory. After the mortal death of a man whose dying was atremendous experience, there will be born again a great soul. And if thebeing in whom that soul is enshrined is but true to the best in himself, he will attain to the utterance of a great message, compel the world tolisten to his message; and the world, having listened, will be for alltime the better. "

"I suppose"--Meade was by now not wholly free of self-consciousness--"aman should have had a training as a writer to best fit him for such anexperience?"

"Writer, sculptor, painter, musician, lawgiver--anything, so that hepossesses the germ, the potential power to make others see, hear, orfeel things as he does. "

"But who aboard this ship possesses such a gift?"

Lavis turned to Cadogan. "Here is the man. "

"Who!" Cadogan bounded in his seat; and then, smiling at himself:"That's a good one--I took it seriously. "

"Take it seriously, please. "

Cadogan instantly sobered. "But I'm not aching to die. And the Lordnever intended me for a martyr. "

"Are you sure you know what the Lord intended you for? You have donegreat deeds in one way. You could do great deeds in another way. A greatdeed is never more than a great thought in action. You need but thegreat thought to give the great deed birth. "

"But I never originated a great thought in my life. "

"What man ever did? The seeds of great thoughts are born in us, whichmeans that they come from God. But great deeds are man's. And if itshould come to pass in your adventurous life that you go to a calamitousdeath, it may not be altogether a pity. If your heart remains pure asnow, it surely would not be. You have every qualification, if you couldbut be born again. "

"Why wouldn't you yourself be the man for such a thing?" It was Meade, eying the man from under contracted eyebrows, who put this question. 

"Thanks!" Lavis's smile was almost perceptible. 

"I did not mean----"

"No harm. It would require the creative genius. I am no longercreative. "

"But you have an intellect. "

"Meaning that I have a well-developed muscle in the brain? The man wholifts heavy weights in the circus has also a well-developed muscle inhis arm, or back, or legs, but what does he teach us that is for thebetterment of the race? But Mr. Cadogan here has the flaming soul. Andthe last passenger on this ship should be such as he, a strong man withthe innocence of the child. " He turned from the older to the youngerman. "You are creative in thought, powerful, direct, tireless in action, Mr. Cadogan. Every new experience still comes to you with the dew of themorning on it. You should die hard, with your eyes open to the last. Nothing would escape you. And you would know what dying was, because foryou to give up life would be a great renunciation. "

Cadogan shook his head. "Even if all the rest of it were true, I havenothing in life to renounce. "

"How can you know that? You would be renouncing a limitless capacity forenjoyment, if nothing more. " Lavis rose to his feet. "I hope I haven'tbored you too much? I think I will go out and get some fresh air. " Hebowed and smiled to Meade, smiled more warmly on Cadogan, wrapped histop-coat over his evening clothes, and went out on deck. 

Meade saw that Cadogan was gazing thoughtfully on the seat which Lavishad vacated. "What do you make of him, Cadogan?"

Cadogan's face, when he swung his chair around, was flushed, hisdark-blue eyes more glowing than usual. "I don't know, except that hehad me thinking. He made me feel that he was reading my mind, and beforehe left I was saying to myself, 'When I grow older I'll be somethinglike him, ' only, of course, with less brains than he's got. "

"You'll have brains enough, don't fear. He made me think of the head ofa religious order who went wrong some years ago. But that was before Iknew much of the inside of Continental affairs. A woman, as I recall it. However, he's gone--he made my head ache trying to follow him, and--butthere is the major and Vogel passing the port-hole. I'll call them inand we'll have our little rubber. "

 * * * * *

They sat in to their little rubber, and while they played a passenger ofimportance was auctioning off the pool on the ship's run for the nextday. 

He stood on a table to see and be seen, a short, fat, bearded man whosometimes had to pause for breath. "Here she is, gentlemen, the largestship of all time making marine history. What d'y' say, gentlemen? We allknow what we did up to noon to-day. We did even better, impossiblethough it may seem, this afternoon. Now, what am I offered for the highfield? Come now, gentlemen. By Tuesday morning, at ten o'clock, are weto be abreast of Sandy Hook or not? It will be a record run if we makeit, but whether we are a few minutes late or early, every indicationpoints to a grand day's run for to-morrow. Come, gentlemen, bid up!"

"What of the rumors of icebergs?" asked a voice. 

"Pray do not joke, gentlemen. I beg of you, do not joke. Has any personhere observed any notice of icebergs posted on the ship's board? I fancynot. To-day I myself put the question to the man whose word is law onthis ship. Do I have to name him, gentlemen? No need, is there? No. 'Arewe going to slow down?' was my question. 'On the contrary, we are goingto go faster, ' was the reply. "

There was a laugh. "Seventy pounds!" was called. 

"That's the spirit, gentlemen. Seventy pounds for the high field. Thegentleman who shall be fortunate enough to win this pool will havesomething to brag about in future days. Come, now, how much for the highfield? Seventy-five? Good! Gentlemen, I am offered----"

"What's the high field worth, Cadogan?" asked Vogel. 

"All you want to bid, if nothing goes wrong. But with ship's officersspending more time with distinguished passengers than on the bridge, Iwouldn't give a nickel for it. "

"I won't bid, then. "

The voice of the man on the table was increasing in volume. "Eighty-fivepounds I am offered for the high field. It is not enough, not enough byfar, gentlemen--eh! Eh, I say. "

The ship heaved, not violently; gently rather, under them. There was aneasy, slight roll to port, a dull, almost noiseless bumping, a slow, heavy resistance, as of a heavy object being forced over a stubbornlyyielding surface. 

To either side of him and in the mirrors Cadogan could see a dozen menpeer inquiringly up over cards or books or glasses. Meade stared aroundthe room. "What the devil's that?" he asked, and held a card high, witheyes directed to the nearest deck door. 

There was a recoil of the ship, which slowly and gently, but surely andalmost comically, to Cadogan's way of thinking, urged the stout waist ofMeade against the edge of the table. 

Cadogan waited his last turn to play, laid down his card, and scooped inthe trick. "Forty on points, eight on honors, Major, " he said, and setit down. "If nobody minds, I'll step out on deck and see what stoppedher. "

"Stopped! Is she stopped?" exclaimed Vogel. 

"She is. " Cadogan strolled out of the smoking-room. Three or four hadpreceded him; half a dozen, who had nothing else to do, strolled outafter him. 

In a few minutes those who had gone out were beginning to return. "Well, what do you know about that?" whooped the first one. "Hit alump of ice! Lucky for the ice we didn't hit it fair, with thisforty-five-thousand-tonner going along at twenty-five or six knots anhour like she is!"

Several laughed at that, and Major Crupp, who was patiently riffling thecards, called out to the last speaker: "Did you see Mr. Cadogan outthere?"

"I saw him going toward the bow of the ship, Major, " was the answer. 

"Investigating, I suppose. Well, suppose we play dummy--what do you-allsay?--till Caddie comes back. He's possessed of a demon for finding outthings. Your deal, Mr. Vogel. "

A steward stepped in from the deck. "Major Crupp, sir?"

"Yes. "

"Mr. Cadogan told me to say not to wait till he came back, sir, but togo on with the game, sir. "

Vogel picked up his cards. "How long will we be delayed, steward?"

"Oh, not more than an hour or two, they say, sir. "

"H-m-m"--Vogel stared reflectively at the table--"I'll have to buyCadogan a good smoke when he comes back. He saved me ninety or a hundredpounds on that high field. "

They resumed play. 

II

Lavis was pacing the wide promenade deck and sniffing the air as hepaced. It was as if a breath of the north were on them, and yet--havingreached the uncovered part of the deck astern he looked up to observethe steamer's smoke--the wind was not from the north. 

Such passengers as were still making their rounds were doing sodeterminedly, in sweaters or top-coats. Without halting in their rapidwalking they, too, at times drew short, sharp breaths through high-heldnostrils. It surely was growing colder. But why? A group held up anofficer who was smoking his pipe in the lee of the canvas forward to askhim why. He at once set them right about it. Why, surely it should becool--on the North Atlantic, in April, and well on in the evening!

A couple that Lavis knew for bride and groom turned out to lean over therail. He was pointing down by the ship's side. "Hardly a ripple onit--see!" he exclaimed. "Only for the bubbling up from underneath, noneat all. Like an endless belt sliding by so smoothly, isn't it? Andabove--see, sweetheart--a clear sky. "

"Ah-h, a beautiful night!" she murmured. "On such a night--" Lavis, ashe turned the corner of the house, saw him snatch her close and kissher. 

In lounge and smoking rooms all was cosey, cheerful, lively company. Lavis in passing had only to glance into air-ports to be sure of that. It was card-playing and easy gossip in the one, and not infrequentdrinks being brought to impatient men by alert, deferential, many-buttoned servants in the other. In the grill those who must have aspecial little bite before turning in were having it; and, this being achilly sort of a night, there were those who were also having a warmingdrink, with the bite or without it. 

It was growing late. The deck was now almost deserted. Lavis took a lastlook over the rail, a last gulp of the cooling air, and went into theloungeroom. Here he got from the steward paper and envelopes, sat downand wrote:

Now see that you make no attempt to lure him back. 

There was no address, no signature. He sealed the envelope and wentbelow to where, at the end of a passageway, he found a stewardess onwatch. "Miss Huttle hasn't come down yet, Hannah?"

"No, sir, Mr. Lavis. "

"No? Well, there is a party in Mr. Drissler's suite. "

"Mr. Drissler, sir?"

"The wealthy man in the royal suite. "

"Oh, yes, sir. "

"Miss Huttle is there. You take this note to her there, and let me knowthat it has been delivered, please. "

Lavis went to his room, got out a long, loose linen duster from hiswardrobe, removed his top-coat, pulled the duster over his eveningclothes, found an old cloth cap, and waited for the return of thestewardess. 

She came presently. "I gave it to Miss Huttle, Mr. Lavis. Into her ownhand, sir. "

"Thank you, Hannah. "

 * * * * *

Lavis left his room and descended deep down into the ship, to where aman in dungarees, but with an officer's cap of authority, was perched ona horizontal grating poring over the speed register. Over his shoulderLavis watched the numerals shift--seven, eight, nine, thirty. One, two--eight, nine, forty. Click, click, click, click--he watched themuntil the officer turned and saw him. 

"Ho, I was beginning to think you'd given me the go-by for to-night. "They shook hands. 

"Isn't it the most beautiful mechanism ever made by the hand of man!"exclaimed the officer. "A watch is nothing to it. And what you see herecost more than twenty thousand watches--twenty thousand of 'em, andevery danged watch in a gold case. "

He drew out his own gun-metal stop-watch. "I'll time her now for ahundred revolutions. "

He caught the time, set it down in a little notebook, and from it slowlybut surely reckoned her speed. "Grand, grand!" he said softly. "Will youcome along? Good!"

They descended and ascended many narrow iron ladders and made their waythrough many narrow, grimy passageways. Oilers, stokers, coal-passers, water-tenders straightened up to give them a greeting as they passed. Inone boiler-room a stoker was scooping a dipper through the water-pail athis feet as they entered. 

"Are we holding our own this watch, Mr. Linnell?" He held the dipperrespectfully in suspense for the answer. 

"Holding it? Yes, and more. "

"Hi, hi! an' that gang went off watch before us, Mr. Linnell--an' Ifancy they rate themselves a competent watch--among themselves, sir--they threw it at us as how we'd do mighty well to hold our own. " Bythis time his chief had passed on, but Lavis, lingering, saw the stokergulp a mouthful of water, hold it a moment, and squirt it, _s-s-t!_contemptuously into a heap of hot ashes. 

Linnell continued his rounds, sparing a nod here; a nod there, almost afull smile at times, and at times, too, a sharp snap of criticism. Lavisin his rear caught the pursuing comment. He was the kind, was the chief, to soon let you know where you stood. And right he was. And no one wouldbegrudge him what he could make of the passage, if so be he could make abit more of reputation out of it, for surely his heart was in his work. Never one to loaf, by all reports, but this time!--not a single watchwithout his full rounds below. 

Lavis followed the engineer up a narrow iron ladder, and thence up awide iron ladder, to where, from a heavily grated brass-railed platform, Linnell surveyed his engines. 

He laid a hand on Lavis's shoulder and extended an eloquent arm. "Worthlooking at, aren't they? The largest engines ever went into a ship, those engines you are looking at now, Mr. Lavis. It is something to havecharge of the likes of them. Wait till I see some of my old mates!" Hiswas a low, chuckling laugh. "I'll be having a word to say, they betterbelieve, of ship's engines! Talking of their ten and twenty thousandtonners--ferry-boats, river ferry-boats, that's what I'll tell 'em theyhave alongside o' this one. And everything working beautifully"--hehesitated a moment--"leastwise in my division. An' why shouldn't it, Mr. Lavis, after four days and three nights now of never closing an eye formore than two hours together? But two nights and another day now, an''twill be all behind us. And something to put behind a man, that--arecord-breakin' maiden passage of the greatest ship ever built. And--butI'm gassin' again. We'll be moving on. "

Lavis followed Linnell to where a man in grimy blue dungarees wasstanding silent watch. Before him was a row of levers and beside him adial on which were words in very black letters: FULL SPEED, HALF SPEED, and so on. To one side was a disk around which two colored arrows, onered and one green, were racing. A gong was at the man's ear. At his feetwas a pit into which a great mass of highly polished steel was drivingin and out, in and out, up and down ceaselessly. 

Linnell studied the colored arrows as they sped around the disk. "Portengine a bit the best of it?" He had to speak into the man's ear to makehimself heard. 

The man in dungarees nodded. "A wee bit, sir. "

"How's all else?"

"Couldn't be better, sir. " He had to yell to make himself heard. "Are weholding our own, sir?"

"A full revolution better than any watch since we left port. "

The man nodded as if he had been expecting it, but presently chuckledand swung one foot playfully toward the glittering gray cross-head as itwent driving down into the pit. "A full revolution!" heechoed--"t-t-t"--and spat with obvious significance into the pit. 

"T-t-t--" mimicked Linnell, and slapped him lightly on the shoulderbefore he turned to Lavis. 

"Will you go farther or wait here?"

"I'll wait here, if you don't mind, and stand part of the watch withAndie. "

"Very good! I'll pick you up later. "

Lavis, standing beside Andie and gazing into the pit, pointed to thegreat cross-head driving by. "If that were to fly out and go through thebottom of the ship, Andie, would it sink her?"

Andie projected his lower lip. "It _might_ sink her, sir, though itdon't seem possible-like. But if it _did_ sink her, 'twould be _about_the only way _to_ sink her, sir. "

Lavis let his eyes roam above and about him. Andie observed thedirection of his gaze. "A wonderful sight, aren't it?" he commented. "What wi' so many polished rods an' shafts all whity-gray, an' all themmany beams an' bars so beautiful green an' red-painted!"

Lavis, still interested in the wonderful machinery, felt the deck liftedthe least bit under him. It was as if the ship had risen to a rollinghead sea. He laid hold of a handy stanchion to steady himself, but hesaw Andie, unsupported, go sliding easily, gently, irresistibly to thebulkhead behind them. Lavis saw Andie brace his legs, and then, remindful and resentful, bound back to his station and set a hand toeach of two levers. The iron deck beneath them was still rolling easily;from beneath the deck came a chafing noise, a slow, heavy grinding. 

Lavis saw that with hands to levers, eyes on indicator, and ears togong, the man in dungarees had become oblivious to all but the expectedorder from the bridge. It came after a time--the warning clang and theneedle pointing to ASTERN SLOW. 

Andie shifted his levers. Rods and shafts reversed. Andie, eyes set onthe bridge dial, waited. 

Lavis could hear Linnell's voice sharply hailing somebody in theboiler-room passage. Presently he saw him running by the bulkhead door;and then, from the far end of the passage, his voice cracking out like awhip: "Back, I say! Back, you dogs, back to your stations! I'll tell youwhen you're to go. "

He came bounding in and past Lavis and Andie, up the narrow iron ladder, up the wider one above it. Again Lavis heard him: "You thought toforelay me, eh--and breed panic above? You misbegotten spawn, I'd killyou as I'd kill a cockroach--and every last one of you, if you force me. You dogs--go back!"

Cries and oaths, then the thud of a heavy weapon on bone and flesh, thefalling of stumbling bodies on the iron grating above. A silence, andthen Linnell's voice again, now more controlled: "You there, Wallace?Well, stay there. An' let not a single one of 'em pass without myorders. Shoot 'em down if you have to, but keep 'em below. "

The ship was still backing. _Wh-r-r-i-ng!_ went the gong. Stop!commanded the indicator. Andie shifted the levers. The tremendousmachinery hung motionless. 

All was quiet. Not a quiver from out of the great compartment. Throughthe grating over his head Lavis saw the figure of the chief hurriedlydescending. He saw him turn, pause a moment at the head of the narrowladder, and then come sliding down. 

"Doing our best, some of 'em will get up above, " he said quietly. "Butwe've enough left for a watch. " He stepped to Andie's side, all thewhile with his eyes roaming over the machinery. "She answered her bellspromptly, Andie?"

"To the stroke, sir. "

"Good! Stay by her. Pass the word to me if aught goes wrong. "

He was through the bulkhead door and into the passageway before he hadcompleted the order. 

Lavis saw Andie pout his lower lip, and with a "T-t-t--" shift his gazeto the pit. "The blind bats!" burst from him, and he spat into the pit. "See there, sir!" he called out to Lavis. 

Lavis nodded. He had already noticed it. There was a foot or so of waterin the pit. 

"How the devil came it there?" Andie stooped and scooped a handful ofit, tasted it, and held it up for Lavis to view. "Salt! _And_ cold. T-t-t--" Andie let his breath whistle softly through his parted teeth. 

The water was rising. By and by it was over the top of the pit andcrawling across the shiny deck. Andie looked about for relief. 

"I'll tell him, " volunteered Lavis. 

"Thank you, sir. An' you might say, sir, there must be somethin' wrongwi' the bulkhead doors. They aren't closed yet. "

Lavis met Linnell returning in the passageway. "Buttons in place of eyesin their heads aloft!" he was muttering. "An' for all o' forty mechanicsbrought specially to set things right, they can't close the doorsbelow. "

Together they waded in to where Andie was now to his knees in water. "Let be your levers, Andie, an' take a spell o' rest for yourself, "commanded Linnell. 

Andie slowly relaxed his fingers, pulled a bunch of waste from his hippocket, and wiped his hands. 

"She's hard hit, " said Linnell to Lavis, "though there's few know ityet. And won't in a hurry. "

"Then I'd better be going above?"

"That's right, do. Will you be back this way again?"

Lavis let his hand rest lightly on Andie's head. "I'm not sure. " Heextended his hand to Linnell. "If I don't see you again, good-by. "

"Good-by, Mr. Lavis. " The engineer stepped closer and whispered: "If anyhonest chance offers to leave the ship, leave her. "

 * * * * *

Lavis found his way through the crew's quarters to the lowest sleepingdeck of steerage. Here a few old people and some children, toodiscouraged, too indifferent, or too helpless, were clinging to theirbunks. On the next deck he found a gathering in the open spacesurrounding a freight hatch. One whom he knew for a Polish woman, withher baby at her breast, was on the edge of the crowd, and, like most ofthe others, glancing up to see what was doing on the higher decks. ThePolish woman was too concerned with her baby to see exactly what theywere doing on that high deck where all the boats were, but another womanwas telling her how it was. 

Lavis stepped closer and listened. She was telling, the tall one, howthere were many men running about excitedly--ship's men with only shirtsabove their trousers some, and others with coats buttoned up. And theywere pulling and hauling and knocking away blocks. Such a clear nightone could see them--see their forms--and hear, too, their blows andshouts. The woman with the baby nodded. Without looking up she couldhear the blows. And now the electric light had come, resumed the tallone; she could see that many women had gathered there, and some werepushing forward and others pushing back, and now women--yes, and aman--were being put into a boat. 

"And now the boat is lowered, " resumed the tall one. 

"I can hear them, " said the young mother. "And now it is rowing awayfrom the ship in the dark. "

"And there is another, " informed the tall one by and by. 

"I can hear that, too, rowing away in the dark. And from the water--doyou hear it, too, baby--such a lonesome cry in the darkness?"

At that moment Lavis spoke to her in her own language. The young mothergreeted him warmly. "Ah-h, baby, " she said, "here is the good gentlemanwho lives in the country where your father is waiting. " She turned fromthe baby to ply Lavis with rapid questions in Polish. 

What did that mean--the boats leaving the great ship? Surely it must betrue what the men had said, the ship's men--that there was no danger?Surely it must be true that such a monster of a ship, it could not sink?Surely it could not! And yet why were all the rich ladies being sentaway and the gates to the upper decks closed, so that the poor people inthe steerage could not get out? Was it really true there was no danger?Surely those officers would not deceive poor, friendless people! And yethere the oily men, the greasy ones who worked deep down in the ship, rushing every moment from below! And saying nothing but low-spoken wordsto each other, and into their rooms and out again in no time, but withmore and heavier clothes upon them! Did men dress more warmly to workwhere the engines and hot fires were?

"Wait. I will return, " said Lavis to her, and stepped over to where twostewards were on guard over a gate. One, observing him, turned to theother and remarked, with vast negligence: "A silly lot, steerage, ain'tthey? Always airin' a growl about something or other, as if ship'srulin's was a-goin' to be changed for the likes o' them!"

"I would like to get to the upper deck, " interrupted Lavis. 

"_You_ would like to get to the upper deck, would you? And who, may Iask, do you take yourself for, a-trying to speak like a toff?" The manturned his back to Lavis. "Swine!" he repeated to his mate. 

Lavis glanced down at himself. He had overlooked the effect of the oldlinen duster and the old cap. 

"When _he_ gets to 'arbor, of course there will be tugboat visitors andcustoms officers arskin' for 'im, won't they?"

The other cast half an eye on Lavis. "When the clarss will look down onthe tops o' their heads and remark: 'What a mob of 'em there! How manyof 'em did you cart along this time, Captain?' I fancy he'll have onlyto cock his ear up to hear 'em. "

"Bloody foreigners, most of 'em. "

Lavis returned to the Polish mother. "Come, " he said. "There is anotherway out of here. "

"Please, sir, the big, jolly Irisher--what is she saying?"

Lavis listened to the big, jolly Irish girl, who, however, was not nowso jolly. Lavis had seen a thousand like her gathering kelp on the westIrish coast--tall, deep-bosomed, barefooted girls with black hair to thewaist, and glorious dark eyes. She was standing on the covered hatch, and pointing at the moment to one of the ship's men who had passed. 

"Wet to his knees. Where is it he should be getting wet to his knees?And another one. And where is it they are going? And is it we that hasto stay here till that kind"--she pointed to the two stewards on guardat the steerage gate--"are pleased to let us out? Haven't we as muchright to our lives as them that lives higher up? Five hundred of ushere, women and childther, and which of them above cares whether we liveor die?"

She pointed to a woman with her brood clinging to her hands and skirts. "Look at that poor woman with her five childther. And that poor littlething"--she indicated the Polish woman--"that has a husband waiting forherself and her baby in New York. And that other one, and that one, andthat one. God in heaven, mothers with their children to their breasts, and not to be given a chance to live at all! If 'tis a mother I was, anda child to my breast, it's not images of men in uniforms would hinder mefrom saving my baby this night! And myself with my baby, if my baby wasin need of me, an' I could. "

The two ship's men on guard were gazing, not at the steerage, but up atthe higher decks, when a dozen or more of the steerage women sweptacross the deck. "Grand work for strong men, " the Irish girl cried, "preventin' poor women and childther from looking out for themselves. It's not even shadows of men ye are!" and with that bowled the near oneover; and her companions, sweeping up behind her, bowled the other oneover. The two stewards had a look up and a look down, and then, with anoutraged look at each other, they flew after the disappearing steeragewomen. 

"Come, now. " Lavis took the Polish mother's hand. 

"Sh-h!" she warned. "He is sleeping. "

Lavis, nodding that he saw, helped her carefully to her feet, and ledher through the now unguarded gate, and by way of several ladders, tothat high deck where the boats were. 

A boat was all but ready for lowering. The last woman had been crowdedinto it. The Polish woman removed her shawl and wrapped it around herbaby. "Baby!" Lavis could hear her saying over and over again in Polish. "Oh, my baby! my baby boy!" but softly, so as not to waken him. Shestepped into the circle of light which surrounded the boat and theship's people. "Sa-ave beb-by, " she said in English, and held shawl andbaby up at the end of her outstretched arms. 

A rough hand gripped her by the shoulder. 

"Stand back! Stand back, you! You've no right here! Saloon goes first, don't y' understand?"

She stepped back in discouragement. 

The men, busy at the falls, had swung the boat clear and were about tolower away. "Now!" said Lavis sharply in her ear, and pointed to theboat. 

"Ah-h, " she murmured, and darted under the arms of the ship's men andthrust her baby into the bosom of the nearest woman in the life-boat. "Save beb-by!" she breathed, and darted back into the crowd. 

"I meant yourself also, " said Lavis reproachfully. 

"No, no, no--they would take baby, but me--no. " Her eyes followed thelowered boat. 

III

When Cadogan went forward he wished to see something other than the loomof the low-lying, misty, white berg against the sky. He peered down overthe bow. He bent low his ear to catch the purr of eddying waters. 

He turned sharply on his heel, and went below--deep below. 

 * * * * *

When he reappeared he went straight to his stateroom. Here, in the cabinsleeping quarters below the promenade deck, nothing disturbing hadhappened. When such passengers as were about to turn in became aware ofthat slow lurch and easy stoppage, they had stepped out into thepassageways, and asked each other what was the matter; which questionwas answered almost immediately by ship's people who came hurrying amongthem with reassuring words. "It's nothing, ladies and gentlemen. If youwill go back to your rooms, ladies and gentlemen--it's nothing. " Andthey had gone back to their rooms. 

Cadogan turned on the light in his room, and hauled out his suit-case. He found a pad of paper, found also a fountain pen, shook the pen tomake sure there was ink in it, let down the covering of the wash-basinfor a desk, laid thereon a small photograph of a beautiful face and head_en profile_, and began to write. He set down "Dear, " and paused. Hesmiled faintly, wrote "Helen" after it, and went unhesitatingly on:

 This afternoon, over our tea, as I concluded one of my almost endless monologues, you may remember you said, "You'd better watch out or some day you will be having your last adventure. " Well, I have had it. Not with this ship--no, no. My last adventure was a dream of you. I was on the dock, about to board a steamer for South America, when I saw you step out of your cab. And so I came aboard here. I am glad I came. 

 You brushed me in passing, as I stood beside the gangplank trying not to stare at you; but you did not know that--did you?--although for an instant I thought you did. It was the conceit of youth, that thought. 

Cadogan held up his pen. The sound of hurrying feet from the passageway, the noise of fists pounding on doors, of high-pitched voices asking andanswering questions, broke on his ears. He listened, stared at theair-port for a moment, and resumed his writing:

 About this time a steward is pounding on your door and _hin_forming you that you are to go on deck and be ready to go into the boats. Nothing serious, he is probably saying. The poor man who tells you so, I am sure, does not suspect, but whoever told him to carry that message knew better. Perhaps it is just as well he does not suspect. 

 When the steamer stopped that time, it was because she struck on the submerged shelf of an iceberg. In three hours--or less--she will go down, and all who happen to be on board will go with her. They should be able to stow a thousand women and children in the boats, and these should be picked up soon after daylight, if the sea stays smooth and the weather clear. To-night's indications were clear weather and a calm sea for at least another day, so that will be all right. 

 You will be in one of the boats, and--safe. It would be like you not to want to go. If I hear that you do not, then some one will see that you do go. But I shall not be by you when you leave the ship, for I do not want you to read in my face that I know I am not to see you again--nor to bother you in any way. I shall be looking on as you leave, and what you said to-night will not then matter. As you go over the side my prayer will go with you. 

There came a sharp knock on the door. 

"Come!" he called. It was his own steward, who thrust his head past thedoor's edge. "Saloon passengers are to go on deck, Mr. Cadogan. "

"Why?"

"I 'ave no idea, sir. Orders, sir. I was to hinform the saloon passengersas how they were to go on deck, and women and children into boats. "

"All right. Thank you. And, Hames. "

"Yes, sir?"

"You hunt up Miss Huttle's maid, and have her tell Miss Huttle to besure to wrap up warm. Be sure she gets that right--to wrap up warm. Twosets of everything all round. Got that right?"

"Two sets--yes, sir. "

"That's all, Hames. "

"'K you, sir. "

He resumed writing:

 And so it has come to write the adieu which I would dread to have to speak. Four days only have I known you, but a man may build his life anew in four days, and this last adventure of mine has been such as in my visionary boyhood days I used to mark out for myself in rosy dreams. 

 I have the little snapshot you gave me yesterday. I will have it with me to the end, and your face in it will be the last thing I kiss this side of eternity. And so good-by, dear heart, and don't worry for me. Who lives by the sword, et cetera. It had to come to some such ending, I suppose, though rather a joke, isn't it, to be lost on an ocean liner crossing the Atlantic in these days?

 To-day with you I saw the sun go down 'twixt purple bars, and what is the little matter of dying to that? And it is a consolation to know you will not mourn me. Good night, dear heart, and may God have ever a tender eye on you. 

He sealed the envelope, and very carefully addressed it: "Miss HelenHuttle, " placed it in his inside coat-pocket, kissed the littlephotograph, and placed that also in his inside coat-pocket. 

He gazed about to see what else. His top-coat lay where he had lastthrown it--across the edge of the berth. He shook his head at it, andfrom his wardrobe took a heavy ulster, scanned it approvingly and put iton. He hauled his steamer trunk out from under his berth, and from acorner of it dragged a thick wallet. He ran his thumb along the edge ofthe bills within it. Large banknotes they were mostly. He stuck thewallet into his hip pocket. The handle of a magazine pistol peeped up athim. He took it up, laid it flat in the palm of his hand, shook hishead, and tossed it back. He took one more look around the room, wavedhis hand to the walls, and stepped out into the passageway. 

A hurrying steward almost bumped into him. It was Hames. "Miss Huttlewas told, sir. "

"Good! Now, something else. Later on Miss Huttle will be going into aboat. Before she goes, be sure you give her this letter. Not now--no. But up on deck, just before she goes. "

"Yes, sir. "

Cadogan sought the upper deck by way of the second-cabin quarters. Onthe wide staircase he overtook an old couple who, at sight of him, begantalking volubly. She was a little old lady with a confiding smile, andhe a bent and round-backed man with a long, forked beard. 

"Vot you t'ink, Mr. Cadogan? He tell me I shell go in der boads. "

"And why not, Mrs. Weiscopf?"

"Und vere shell he go?"

"A man of Mr. Weiscopf's age--they may let him go with you. "

"I go in der boads?" The old man tried to straighten up. "I shell not goin der boads. I, mit childrun und grandchildrun, to go in der boads? Itis der foolishness--all der foolishness--dose boads. "

"Why, then, shell I go in der boads, Simon?"

"For mens I say der foolishness. All der womans go in der boads, Meenie. "

"I shell not go in der boads mitout you, Simon. "

"Go in the boat, and take him with you, if you can, Mrs. Weiscopf, "whispered Cadogan, and hurried on. 

He came onto the boat-deck in the rear of the saloon passengers alreadygathered there. The first boat was clear. An officer stood at the sternof it. "Women and children!" he was calling out, and there was a rush tofill it. 

"I don't see many children, " said a voice. 

"Do you ever--in saloon?" retorted another. 

Cadogan, recognizing the second voice as Meade's, and seeing that he wasalso in the rear of the crowd, stepped over beside him. 

The boat was filled, and lowered in jumps and jerks. The passengersmoved to the next boat. Half a dozen ship's men and an officer stood by. 

"They're taking enough of the crew along, " observed Meade. 

"Not much gets by you, " commented Cadogan. 

"It's my business. I'll have to write a story about this later. "

"Women and children!" called the officer. 

The boat was filled, except for a space for ship's men and the officerin charge, who stepped quickly in. This boat went down likewise in jumpsand jerks. 

In the next boat two men passengers jumped in at the last moment. Theofficer in charge seemed not to see them. The crew said nothing. 

"Must have friends at court, " muttered Meade. "Though why anybody shouldchoose the staying out all night, half frozen, in those boats I don'tunderstand, do you? But look--there's the Major marshalling hisbattalions. Old ladies and young, pretty and otherwise--instinctivelygallant, the Major, " observed Meade. 

"We'll remember your friends in New York, Major!" two of the youngerones chorussed. 

"Be sure you do!" he retorted. "And pay your bet with a box of candywhen you're back aboard in the morning. But take care you keep thoserugs around your feet in the meantime. " He waved them smilingly down theside of the ship, but he was not smiling when he had turned his back tothe ship's side, and made his way into the crowd of passengers. 

Cadogan shrank back of Meade. It was Miss Huttle who had stepped intothe light, with Drissler in attendance. And not alone Drissler. She wasfully dressed, with heavy furs in addition. Her smile was not lessfrequent, and apparently her tongue no less ready than usual, when shereplied to the sallies of her escorts. 

The blocks were knocked away clumsily, the falls overhauled bunglinglyfor the next boat. Cadogan ached to jump in and show them how to do it. 

"The worst of standing here, Meade"--Major Crupp had taken his positionby the side of the journalist--"is that no matter how matters arehandled, we can no more interfere than if we were children in steerage. And yet some of us, Cadogan here especially, could help out a lot. "

"Why can't you jump in there and help?" inquired Meade. 

"Discipline. A man whose trade calls above all things for disciplinemust be the last of all to interfere with it. There's an officer therefoolishly displaying a revolver, frightening people needlessly. Somefoolish woman--did you hear her?--just said: 'How brave!' Brave! Whenhis boat is loaded he goes off with it. "

"Well, he's welcome, Major. I wouldn't care to be out there all night. What do you say, Cadogan?"

Cadogan made no answer. He was not losing a finger's crook of MissHuttle's actions; and yet he was listening to and studying Meade andCrupp, old Mrs. Weiscopf and her husband, the ship's officers and men, asteerage woman with her baby in a shawl--however she came to bethere--everybody and everything within sight and hearing. He could nothelp it. If he were one of a file of prisoners to be taken out and shot, his last curiosity would be to know what everybody was saying anddoing--the executioners, the executed, himself, the spectators. 

He noted the parting of bride and groom, and wondered what that groomwould have given to go with her into the boat. He was taking note ofthe women who went reluctantly from the sides of their men-folk, andthose who could hardly be held back until their turn came. He studiedthe faces of the men who by some mysterious dispensation were allowed togo into the boats. Some, as they stepped under the cluster of electriclights, betrayed to him that they knew. Some one in authority had toldthem, or, like himself, they had found out for themselves. 

It was then that he saw Lavis. A woman with a baby in the shawl had, with a sublime gesture, abandoned her baby to a woman already in theboat, so that it might be saved. Lavis was standing behind her when shedid it, and as she lost herself in the crowd, Lavis had looked after herwith such an expression of pity that Cadogan's attention was attractedanew to him. 

When Lavis turned to the circle of light again, his eyes met Cadogan's. "And you, too, know, " thought Cadogan. Lavis came over to him. 

"I was wishing I could give that poor woman this big coat of mine, "began Cadogan; "it might make things a little less miserable for her. "

Lavis's eyes thanked him. "I will find her and give it to her. " Cadogantook it off. "I will see you again, " said Lavis, and, went off with thecoat. 

Cadogan turned in time to see--and it thrilled him--old Mrs. Weiscopfrefusing to go when her turn came. She pointed to the old man. "No, no, "was the impatient answer from the officer. "But he iss so old, " shepleaded again. She was roughly told to hurry up and get into the boat orstay behind. She marched back to her old husband, and gripped himtightly by the arm. The boat left without her. 

Cadogan saw these things, and a hundred others, without ever losingsight of Miss Huttle. On the other side of the ship he knew that a gangof ship's men were fighting for the possession of a boat for themselves. He could hear them--half-smothered murmurs, cries, blows. He thought ofgoing to his room, and getting his automatic pistol, and jumping inamong them. But what good would it do? was his next thought. It would beonly to substitute one set of dead men for another; and, doing it, hewould lose sight of her. 

At last she walked over to where the boat was ready to lower. Before shestepped in she cast a long look above the heads of the crowd. Thethought that she might be looking for him set Cadogan to trembling. Shewas pale. He drew farther back into the shadows. He saw her face peeringout again from the crowded hats, toques, and hoods of the close-packedwomen as the boat was lowered. 

She appeared to be still searching for some one in the crowd as the boatdisappeared below the deck rail. Cadogan forced his way to the rail towatch it. It was rolled from side to side, bumped against the ship'sside, swung in and out as it descended. While yet some distance abovethe water, it stuck. Cadogan could just make it out. The falls hadfouled. With a jerk the stern dropped several feet on the run, and theboat hung again in air, now with bow up and stern down. There werescreams and shouts. Cadogan was at the rail, ready to leap, when the bowunexpectedly dropped. The boat was level again. It was in the water andfloating. She was safe away. 

Cadogan remained by the rail, tracing the course of the little boat onthe sea. When he could no longer see the shadow of it, nor hear thevoices from it, he still stayed, pursuing in his imagination her courseand position out there on the waters. 

When he faced inboard, all the boats were away, and Meade and Crupp wereno longer on deck. He guessed they had gone into the smoking-room. 

IV

Many other passengers had returned to the smoking-room by the timeCadogan got there. Meade, Crupp, and Vogel were already seated at thecorner table. Cadogan sat down with them. 

From the farther corner of the room came a strident voice. "They wereall of them foolish to go at all, that's what I say. They will be outthere all night, and in the morning we will be laughing at them whenthey return aboard. See here. Please see here. "

The speaker opened and held up an illustrated advertising booklet. Noone in the room could fail to see it. "Thirty-eight water-tightcompartments. See, there it is. Non-sinkable. Non-sinkable--that's theword. See for yourself, whoever cares. But there's people who fancy theyknow more about ships than the men who make a trade of building 'em. " Hestared around the room to see who would gainsay him. Nobody seemed tocare to. 

Crupp turned around to see who it was. "It's that chap was auctioningoff the ship's pool an hour or two ago, " explained Vogel. "He neverstops. "

Major Crupp's questioning eyes roamed from Cadogan to the assertive manat the farther corner and back to Cadogan. "What d'you make of him, Cadogan?"

Cadogan shrugged his shoulders. "It is faith like his that buildsempires. And stupidity like his that loses them. "

The man with the booklet had not abated the fervor of his readingannouncements; but those who were listening were listening withoutcomment. Thus far no one in the room had spoken aloud of danger exceptthe man with the booklet. The effect of his loud insistence was toincrease the unvoiced uneasiness. 

A steward, with a face into which a white frost seemed to have bitten, burst into the smoking-room, revolved rapidly once in the middle of theroom, and vanished through the door by which he came. 

Everybody turned toward the door through which he disappeared, and thenevery head seemed to turn toward every other. The voice of the man withthe booklet was lowered. Presently he ceased reading. 

One man stood up and went silently out. The door closed behind him. Another stood up. One, two, three men followed him to the door. Severalgot up together. Another group was on its way when suddenly there was arush for the door. The man with the booklet, whiskered, fat, andred-necked, stared down at his printed page in amaze. He gulped, blinked, heaved himself up, and lumbered after the others. Only the fourgathered around the corner table remained in the smoking-room. 

Crupp, with his thumbs hooked into his trousers pockets, was staringdown between his knees. On Crupp's left was Vogel, the millionaire ofthe railroads. He was a tall, slope-shouldered man of fifty-five, baldat the top of his head. His forehead sloped back from speculative eyes. "Hi, wake up there, Major!" he bawled, most unexpectedly. "That stewardwho came running in that time, you'd think he thought the ship was goingdown. What d'y' imagine he wanted, Major?"

Crupp raised his head and stared abstractedly at Vogel. "Huh, " repeatedVogel, "what was he after, Major?"

"Lord knows"--Crupp suddenly smiled--"perhaps it was a tip. "

On the table was a siphon of soda and some empty glasses. Crupp selectedone that had not been used, and, carefully gauging, poured about an inchof soda into the glass. "The ship going down, Mr. Vogel? Heroes thenwe'd have to be"--he glanced at each in turn over the rim of hisglass--"whether we liked it or not, wouldn't we? What did you learn thattime you went forward, Cadogan?"

Cadogan also helped himself to some soda-water, rolled it around in hismouth, swallowed it, and set down his glass. As if he had not heardCrupp, he drew out his cigar-case and offered it to the soldier. 

Crupp nodded his thanks, took a cigar, bit off the end, and, withoutlooking away from Cadogan, lit up. Vogel took one, but as if by way ofcourtesy only, for he indicated no desire to light it. Meade, wavingCadogan away, lit a cigarette of his own rolling. "Shortening my lifesmoking cigars, " he explained. 

The door opened. It was Lavis. With a pause and a bow, as if to asktheir permission, he took the corner seat on the transom. Cadogan, waiting until he saw Lavis seated, tendered him the cigar-case. Lavisshook his head. 

"If you're afraid it's my last--" suggested Cadogan. 

"It's years since I've smoked. "

"That saves me, for it _is_ my last. " With the word Cadogan threw theempty cigar-case on the table. 

Meade picked up the case, a gun-metal one, with Cadogan's monogram inthin, flat silver letters on the side. "You throw that down, Cadogan, as if you wanted to give it away. "

"Did it look that way?" Cadogan took it from Meade's extended hand. "I've carried that a good many years. " He stood up as he finishedspeaking, to reach for some matches from the next table. After lightingup he remained standing. 

"Clear, settled weather, and a smooth sea. " He was gazing reflectivelythrough the weather air-port as he spoke. 

"Cadogan"--Meade was speaking--"give us some more of your adventures. "

Cadogan drew out his watch, also of gun-metal. "And I've carried that agood many years, too. " He spoke as if to himself. He looked at the face. "No, it's too late, Mr. Meade. It's too late to begin now. "

"It's never too late. Just think, in your short life you have lived morevolumes than I have written. You know more, ten times more, about reallife than I do, and I'm sixty. I wonder"--he fanned the smoke fromhim--"would you mind dying after all you've been through?"

Cadogan was still standing. He set his left foot on the seat of hischair, his left elbow on his knee, and his chin in the heel of his lefthand. By extending two long, supple left fingers he could hold hiscigar while he blew rings of smoke toward the air-port. He blew themnow--once, twice, three times. "I don't know any healthy men who areeager to die, do you?" he said, half smiling, presently. 

"Meaning you don't want to go yourself?"

"Just that. And yet, if I had to go, any time now, I don't see where Icould have any kick coming. Somewhere, sometime, it had to come. And yetI was wondering, only to-night, queerly enough--" Between the first twofingers and thumb of his right hand he was somersaulting the gun-metalcigar-case against the table-top. _Tap_--_tap_--_tap_--one end, then theother--_tap_--_tap_--_tap_--it went. 

While Cadogan paused Meade was making mental notes of him. How wide andpowerful the shoulders loomed, how trim the waist, the grace of the longwhite fingers, the smooth curves of the strong face, all brown below theeyes and all white above! "What a fight you could put up!" thoughtMeade. "And what a pity if anything should happen to you before youshould have had your chance!"

Cadogan ceased somersaulting the cigar-case. "Wouldn't it be queer, now, I was thinking--here I've drawn lots with Death a hundred times--a fewmore or less--and then to think of him coming along and grabbing afellow off the deck of an ocean liner!"

"That _would_ be a joke, " commented Meade. 

"Wouldn't it?" Cadogan carefully knocked his cigar-ashes onto the tray. His eyes and Crupp's met. 

With his eyes now focussed on the ash-tray, Cadogan continued: "If Ihave left anybody worrying, or guessing, I can tell him where there is acollapsible life-boat which will be safe in smooth water. "

"There are women still aboard, " said Crupp. 

"Eh, what's that?" Meade sat straight up. 

"Yes"--Cadogan's response was directed to Crupp--"there are many womenaboard. But when that life-boat is launched, there is going to be agrand fight to see who will get on it. A half-dozen armed men could holdit for themselves, but not for anybody else--women or men. What do yousay, Major? Would you be for that kind of a fight in the event of hersinking?"

Crupp shook his head firmly. "I'd better shoot myself--or any other armyor navy officer--than be saved where a ship-load of women went down. "

"What do you say, Mr. Vogel?"

Vogel smiled uneasily. "You gentlemen of the sword and pen, how you dotry our nerve at times! But in my circle neither do men honor thecraven. With many women still aboard, would I get into a boat and leavethe ship? Why, no. "

"Do you mean, Cadogan"--all was silence when Meade spoke up--"do youmean there is a possibility that this ship will founder?"

Cadogan nodded--twice--slowly. 

"But for God's sake, when?"

"See"--he pointed to the deck at their feet--"the slant. Her bow issettling now. "

No one spoke, and only Meade moved, and he to interlock his fingers and, pressing his hands together, to rest them on the edge of the table, andlower, for a moment, his head. 

Only Cadogan seemed to remember that Lavis was on the transom seat. During all the time that he was speaking and acting, Cadogan knew thatLavis had never ceased to study him. 

Cadogan addressed him directly. "The raft?" asked Cadogan. Lavis shookhis head indifferently. 

The soldier dropped the butt of his cigar straight down between hisknees. Meade laid the ends of his fingers on the edge of the table, andstared at his nails. 

Vogel sat a little higher in his chair. "Well, there's one thing. Forthree generations now our family have pursued a constructive policy. Myson is almost of age. I hope he will not forget his responsibilities. "

Major Crupp stood up. "Shall we go outside?"

Vogel stood up promptly. Meade got more slowly to his feet. "It doesn'tseem real, " he said to Cadogan; "so quiet! Do men die so easily?"Without waiting to hear the answer he walked after Crupp and Vogel. 

Lavis had not moved from his transom seat. Cadogan walked half-way tothe door and returned. "You set me thinking to-night, Mr. Lavis, but Isee now that it is you the Eternal Verities should select to go downinto the depths. "

"No, no! Never immortality for me. I had my chance. I threw it away. Iwas dedicated to a sacred calling, Mr. Cadogan. I had almost achievedthe heights, when I--fell. I sinned not only in body, but in spirit. Tosin in body is to scorch the soul; but to sin in spirit is to consumethe soul. Mine is but ashes. Yours is still a burning flame. And--butthere is somebody at the door, I think, who wishes to speak to you. "

It was a man in a steward's uniform. As Cadogan reached the door, theman retreated to the shadows of the deck. Cadogan followed. It wasHames, with a square envelope in his hand. "Miss Huttle, Mr. Cadogan, "he whispered, "said I was to give you this. When there was nobodyabout, she said, sir. I've been trying ever since, sir, to find youalone. "

Cadogan stepped to the light of a smoking-room air-port, held the sheetclose up to the glass, and read:

 It was all a mistake after dinner to-night. I will explain when next we meet--if ever we do meet. But you must see that we do meet. You must. The passengers do not know, even you may not know, but it is true--the ship is going to sink. I am frightened--dreadful thoughts--if you were only near!

 You must save yourself. You can, if you will. You can do the impossible. You have done it before in play. Do it to-night for the woman who loves you. 

 I know you will never go into the boats, but after they are gone, when you can no longer help another, I ask you to save yourself--save yourself not for yourself, but for me. 

 A woman who loves--remember you said it yourself--hers is the call that no man has the choice of refusing. A woman who loves you and whose love is all for you, will be calling calling, calling, as you read this, from out on the dark sea. 

 Come, come, come, O Beloved, to me at the last. If you do not come, I shall believe always that you did not care. But I know you will come to me. HELEN. 

Cadogan stared at the sea about him, at the sky above him. He rubbed hisforehead. "'Come, come, oh, come!'" he murmured. He drove his clinchedfist against the air-port. "I'll come! I'll come!"

"Mr. Cadogan?" It was the steward. 

"What is it?"

"There's queer talk going about between decks, sir. There will bedesp'rate work doing to-night, if what they say is true, sir. I've afamily in Southampton, sir, and I always tried to do my duty, sir. "

"I never knew a better steward, Hames. Listen. "

"'K you, sir. Yes, sir?"

"On the boat deck for'ard, port side--get that right now. "

"Port side for'ard, sir. Yes, sir. Believe me, sir, I won't forget suchdirections as you are pleased to give, sir. "

"There's a collapsible life-boat there under a tarpaulin. Somebody issaving that for the finish--for a favored few. "

"I believe you, sir. "

"Stand by it, and when they launch it jump on. "

"But they will have spanners and wrenches, and such weapons, sir. "

"They surely will. In the steamer trunk in my room you will find amagazine pistol. "

"Yes, sir. 'K you, sir. "

"But you must hurt nobody, mind, except those who try to hurt you. "

"I'll promise, sir. An' I'll remember also I 'ave a missus an' threekiddies in Southampton, sir. "

"And don't forget you have them, either. "

"No, sir. 'K you, sir. But I never 'andled a magazine one. Anycomplications, sir?"

"Not many. You find the trigger, curl your finger around it, put themuzzle to the man's head who means you harm, and, if he persists, pullthe trigger. It's very simple. "

"Quite so, sir. "

"Good luck to you. And don't forget--you keep pressing the trigger aslong as you want to keep shooting. And--how old are the kiddies?"

"Five, and three, and the baby, one. A grand little chap, the baby, sir. "

"Is he now? Isn't that fine!" Cadogan drew from his hip-pocket thewallet with the packet of bills. "Put this in the bank--for the kiddiesand missus. "

"It's a hawful kindness to 'em, sir. "

"All right. Good luck to you. "

"Good luck to you, I s'y, sir. " He vanished. 

V

From his seat on the transom, Lavis had caught sight of the face ofCadogan as he read the sheet of paper held up to the air-port. His chincame down on his chest, remained there a moment, and then he stood upand slowly went out on deck, by way of the door opposite to that whichCadogan had taken. 

The passengers were gathering thickly on the top deck. There was now norestriction, ship's people having ceased their supervision, and manysteerage passengers were crowding up to join first and second class onthe higher decks. 

"In the last death plunge, " mused Lavis, "steerage may go first, if sobe it pleases them. "

He made out a couple standing hand in hand like children. He knew them, the couple from second cabin, and of the faith of the prophets of old. 

"For why should I go in der boads, Simon?" the woman was saying. "No, no, mein husband. Fifty yahres together we hafe been now. Together weshell go now also. "

"Surely God will welcome thee, " murmured Lavis, and touched theirclasped hands in passing. 

He halted. A young man was staring out on the wide sea. Lavis rememberedthe bride and groom who had been so rapturously gazing out on the seatogether before the collision. This was the groom, and he was speakingto another young man who was treading the deck restlessly, four pacesone way, four paces back. "They said there was a lantern in the boat shewas put in. I think I see it--a small light. "

"Do you?"--the restless one halted--"I don't. How long were youmarried?"

"Four months. "

"Oh-h! We were only ten weeks. " With short, quick steps he resumed hisstriding. 

Lavis leaned beside the young man at the rail. "I think I see the lightyou were looking for--there. " He pointed. 

"Yes, yes--that's it. See here!" He turned to address the pacing man. "Why, he's gone!" He peered into Lavis's face. "There were ten of us, you see, with our wives, returning from our wedding trips. We were goingto have a supper together when we reached New York. "

"But you are not afraid?"

"I am. And I wish I could have gone in the boat too. But look there!" Hepointed to the hundreds of steerage passengers who were still crowdedtogether three decks below. "What chance did they give those womento-night? what chance do they ever get? And my old mother came oversteerage. And she is still alive. And she would stand me up before herand she'd say--I know how she would say it: 'Dannie, boy, do you tell meyou came away from a sinking ship, and women and children behind you?'"

"But you are not sorry?"

"God, man, no! But only the night before last my wife all at once cameclose to me and said: 'Dannie, we're going to have a little baby. ' Andnothing more for a long time, me holding her. And then she whispers:'And I hope he'll be a boy, and grow up to be a man like you, Dannie, 'she said. 

"And God help me! Already I had him grown up and was taking him out tosee the Giants play. "

"God help us all!" said Lavis; and gripped the other's hand swiftly, andpassed on to the lowest open deck, where, by way of the long gangway, hemight reach the after end of the ship. Already the deck was taking on amore noticeable forward slant. He saw a man lashing together somechairs. He paused long enough to see that it was Cadogan, but, withoutdiscovering himself, he passed on to where an isolated man in dungareesleaned with folded arms across the rail. 

It was Andie, with his chin resting on his arms, and his face turnedtoward the placid sea. Once he lifted his head to gaze up at the sky. 

Lavis touched him on the arm. "How did you leave Mr. Linnell, Andie?"

Andie unfolded his arms and faced around. "Eh? Oh! How do you do, sir?He comes to me, Mr. Lavis--an' 'twas somethin' beyond the fear o' deathwas in his eyes--an' he says: 'Andie, your work's done. 'Twas herdeath-blow they give her, an' she'll not live much longer now. Go aboveyou now, Andie, ' he says, 'and I'll stay here. ' 'If you don't mind, I'llstay with you, sir, ' I says. 'Don't be foolish, Andie, ' he says. 'There's small reputation goes with eight pounds in the month. There'snone will be lookin' in the papers to see did you desert your post, butthere's many will be sayin' what a grand fool you was you didn't go whenyou could. '

"'I know you mean that, sir, for the wharf-rats that ships an' shirksfor one voyage, and stays drunk ashore for three more, ' I says. 'I've nocall to leave this ship while one passenger is aboard of her. An' more, Mister Linnell, many an' many's the watch I've stood under you, an', 'less you forbids it, I'll stand this last watch wi' you. Only, if youwon't forbid me, sir, I'll go up on deck at the last, an' have a look atGod's own sky before she goes. '"

"And what did he say to that, Andie?"

"He said naught to that, sir, excep' to shake hands wi' me. I was thatembarrassed wi' the grup o' the hand he gave, I takes out my pipe an'baccy from the locker where the sea wasn't yet reached to, an' I cutsmyself a pipeful an' lights up. An' he says, smilin'-like: 'Andie, is itthe same old Buccaneer brand you're smokin'?' An' I says: 'The same, sir. ' 'Well, ' says he, 'I've always maintained it was the mostoutrageousest-smellin' baccy ever was brought into an engine-room. An' Iwon't change my opinion now, but if you will spare me a pipeful I'llrisk my health to ha' a smoke wi' you now, Andie. '

"An' while we was smokin', sir, man to man like he says: 'Andie, didever you get it into your head you'd like to be marryin'?' And Ianswers, 'I did, sir, ' an' I told him o' the Brighton lass I'd oncecourted, unobtrusive-like, between voyages, goin' on two year, and Iwould 'a' been most pleased to marry her, till of an evenin' we wassittin' out by the end o' the long pier, wi' the little waves from theChannel cooing among the pilin's where the long skelps o' sea-grass wasclingin' to 'em under the planks at our feet. She was a doctor's wife'smaid. An' I axed her, an' she says: 'The marster, an' my missus, too, says when ye're gettin' your twelve pound in the month, Andie, I'm tomarry you. '

"'Wherever will I be findin' twelve pound in the month?' I says. 'Yourdanged old doctor himsel' is collectin' but little more nor that of hisbills in the month, him wi' his red herrin' an' oatmeal porridge forbreakfast every mornin' of his life!' I says. She'd told me herself o'the red herrin'. An' I left her clickin' her fancy high heels togetherunder her penny chair, an' I'd paid tuppence each for the two of us atthe gate comin' in. 'But you wasn't ever thinkin' o' gettin' marrityourself, Mr. Linnell?' I says. 

"'Maybe you noticed a large photograph, Andie, above my desk wheneveryou come to my room?' he asks. I said as how I did. 'And you had nosuspicions?' he says. 'Well, sir, ' I says, 'I did make suspicion itwasn't altogether by way of exercisin' o' your muscles you dusted thegold frame of it so frequent. '

"'I was only waitin', ' he says, 'till I'd made a bit more reputation, and only to-night it was, me makin' my rounds, that I was thinkin' atlast I had made it. ' And he stop there, an' lets his pipe go out thewhile he looks down at his beautiful engines, an' then he has the loanof another match of me, an' he says: 'Andie, but it does seem hard thatyour life an' mine must be smashed through the misbehavior of others. 'An' I thought myself it was, without meanin' to cast blame, sir, onothers. 

"An' we finished our pipeful together, an' he stands up an' says, 'Goodluck to you, Andie, lad, ' and I knew he was wishful to be alone. An' so, 'Good luck to you, Mister Linnell, ' I says, an' we gave each otheranother long grup o' the hand. I was wantin' to tell him he was the bestchief ever I worked under, but he wasn't ever the kind, you see, sir, to be praisin' to his face. An' at the top of the ladder I looks down, an' there he was wi' his arms folded across the shiny brass railin', an'he lookin' down, aweary-like, at his engines. "

Lavis took Andie's hand. "A good man, Andie. And a good man yourself, Andie. Good-by, and God bless you!"

"Thank you, sir. Good-by, sir. And the same to you. " Andie turned to therail and with folded arms set his face to the impassive sea. 

Lavis passed on to where from a tarpaulined hatch a Catholic priest wassaying a litany, while around him a body of kneeling men and women wereresponding. He had donned his cassock, and a shining silver crucifix wason his breast, and his biretta at his feet. His voice was even andunhurried, his features composed. 

"Lamb of God, Who takest away the sins of the world----"

"_Spare us, O Lord!_" came the response. 

"Lamb of God, Who takest away the sins of the world----"

"_Graciously hear us, O Lord!_"

"Lamb of God, Who takest away the sins of the world----"

"_Have mercy on us!_"

"Pray for us, O Holy Mother of God----"

"_That we may be made worthy of the promises of Christ!_"

The priest rose from his knees. "And bear in mind, my children, that nomatter what sin you may have committed, God will forgive you. No oneborn into this world of sin but has sinned at some time, so do notdespair. Offer up your prayers, your heart, to God. He will hear you. Hecould save us, any one of us, or every one of us even now, if he sowilled. If he does not, it is because it is better so. But merely to besaved in the body--what is that? A passing moment here, but the nextworld--for eternity. It is your soul, not your body, which is to live ineternity. Prepare your soul for that. And now our time is growing short, compose your minds and your hearts, and all kneel and say with me an actof contrition: O my God----"

"_O my God_--" came from them like a chanted hymn. 

"I am most heartily sorry for all my sins----"

"_I am most heartily sorry for all my sins_----"

Lavis knelt and prayed also. When he rose from his knees it was to go tothe side of the Polish woman, who was also kneeling at the edge of thecrowd. He found her weeping. 

"Why do you weep? Do you fear death so very much?"

"I weep for my baby. "

"But your baby is safe--out there in the boat. They will bring him tohis father, who will be there waiting on the dock in New York. "

"Yes, yes; but who will be there to give him the breast when he wakes?"

"Who will give--Father in heaven! Come--come with me. " Lavis helped herto her feet. 

VI

Cadogan looked into the smoking-room. Lavis was gone. He hesitated, wheeled quickly, returned to the deck, sought the nearest gangway, andrapidly descended four decks. He traversed one passageway, another, andentered what looked like a carpenter's shop, where, he knew, was athick-topped wooden table with its legs held by small angle-irons to thewooden planking over the steel-deck floor. 

Cadogan crawled under the table, hunched his shoulders, straightened hislegs, and had the table up by the roots. He stepped out from under it, grasped it across the beam, raised it high, brought two of the legs downagainst the deck, once, twice; reversed the ends and brought the othertwo legs down to the deck, once, twice. The legs were gone. 

He set the table top on his head. A man stood in the doorway. Cadoganmotioned him out of the way. "Where yuh goin' with that?" snarled theman. Cadogan set the end of his plank against the man's chest, walkedstraight ahead, and stepped over the man's body. In the passageway someone seized his table from behind. Cadogan let go entirely, wheeledsharply, caught the man by the collar and trousers, smashed him againstthe bulkhead, and, as the other dropped his hold of the table top, threwhim a dozen feet down the passage. The man, rising to his feet, ran theother way. Cadogan picked up his plank and resumed his way. 

At a place where a boat-falls dropped past the ship's rail Cadogan laiddown his burden. This was on the lowest open deck, where not many peoplewould be coming to bother him; but, to reduce the chance of loss, he sethis table top up on edge in the shadow of the rail, while he went offfor an armful of steamer chairs. 

He needed lashings for his chairs. A transverse passageway opened on tothe deck near by. Staterooms opened off either side of the passage. Thedoor of the nearest room was locked. "Bright people, " he muttered, "whodidn't intend anybody should steal anything while they were gone!" Heset one foot under the door-knob, rested his back against the bulkheadacross the narrow aisle, and straightened his leg. The lock gave way;the door swung open. "When they return I hope you won't miss the finebed sheets, " he murmured, and swished them--one, two--from the berths, with the blankets and one pillow. He slit the hemmed edges of the sheetsand tore them into strips lengthwise. With these strips he lashed hischairs compactly together. The chairs in turn he lashed to the heavyplank. 

Cadogan had taken off dinner coat, waistcoat, collar, tie, and linenshirt to work more freely. Now he looked about for the coat. All thewhile he had been working he was not unaware that forms of men hadflitted by him, and that more than one had stopped as if curious to knowwhat he was at. He knew that more than one of these were now prowlingwithin leaping distance and that from them were coming muffled words ofcomment. Also he was not unaware that the ship was nearing her end. Hecould detect the first pitching of her hull, the settling of the deckunder his feet, even as he could hear the half-tones of the menacingvoices from out of the shadows. He was aware, too, that a despairingmultitude were massing on the decks above him. 

Up there, he knew, they were preparing to meet the end in a hundreddifferent fashions. Up there would be those who smiled and those whocried, those who joked or moaned, who prayed or blasphemed, those whowere going with pity in their hearts and consumed with bitternessothers; forgiving whoever it was that had brought it on, or wishing, theothers, that they had the negligent ones to coldly and calmly wringtheir necks before they went themselves. 

Cadogan, having found his coat, laid it on a bitt near by while heshould launch his little raft. He balanced it on the rail, inserted ahook under one of his lashings at each end, folded his blankets on top, and, a boat-falls in each hand, paid out carefully, slowly. He could nothave lowered a human body more tenderly. Easily, gently, he felt itsettle on the bosom of the sea. He took a turn of his falls around thebitt, and, always with one eye peeping sidewise into the shadows, reached for his coat. In the pocket of that coat was the photograph ofhis beloved. 

"You've everything fixed nicely, have you, matie?"

Cadogan had had his eye out for him, and was expecting some suchsalutation; and the revolver within two feet of his head was also notunexpected. A man could not attend to everything at once. 

"Everything nice, yes, " responded Cadogan, now with his coat in hishand. 

"I'm glad o' that, matie, because, you see, I'm needing it. "

"Would you take that from a man after all the work he put in on it?" Hewas kneading the coat into a ball in his right hand. With his left handhe was taking in a hole or two in his belt. 

"You _are_ a soft un! And a swell toff, too. You'll 'ave to st'y aboard, matie. I'm needing that tidy little floatin' thing you've moored below, and I'm plannin' to take it. "

"Well, why don't you take it?"

"No larkin'. I'm fightin' for my life. "

"I've been fighting for more than my life, or yours, and----"

His right arm had been hanging loosely down by his side. He snapped hisright wrist against his hip. The coat, in a tight ball, was jolted intothe man's face, just as Cadogan's left arm shot up and caught the man'spistol wrist. His open right hand followed the coat and gripped theman's throat. He had no mind for a scuffle which would attractattention, nor did he wish the man when he dropped overboard to fall toonear his raft; so, with his finger to the man's windpipe, he bore himalong the passageway toward the stern of the ship. The tide was settingthat way. The man was kicking out with both legs, striking out with hisfree hand. Cadogan held the man's arm over the rail the while he twistedthe pistol wrist. The revolver dropped overboard. Cadogan took a freshhold of him, spun around with him, and let him fly. He went where therevolver went. 

Cadogan, arrived back at his raft, found a man standing by the falls andcalling down to somebody below: "How is it now?"

There was no answer. The man by the falls repeated his question. Onlysilence from below. 

Cadogan was looking for his coat, when the man grasped the falls andswiftly lowered himself over the side. Cadogan let be his coat and sliddown the falls after him. His feet fetched up against the man's fingers. He pressed with all his weight. The man cursed softly, let go his hold, and fell into the sea. Cadogan dropped after him. When the man came upCadogan gripped him by the throat and held him under water. 

The dim outline of another fellow was standing erect on the end of thelittle raft. "Norrie, me lad, " he was saying in a cold voice, "it's atidy little floater with nice warm blankets, but it will never hold uptwo. " Cadogan could see a long spanner, or bar, held ready on theshoulder of the man on the raft. The man in the water was now twininghis legs about him, whereupon, still clinging to his man, Cadogan dived, porpoise-like, head down into the sea. When he felt his feet under hekicked once, twice, three times powerfully. Deep down he went. 

He came up alone. 

He clung to one of the hooks of the falls to get his breath. A capfloated up to him. Smiling grimly, he set it on his head. The man on theend of the raft poised himself above him and aimed the long spanner atthe cap. Cadogan diverted the blow with his free forearm, and before theother could recover wrenched the spanner from him and dropped it intothe sea. 

"Oh, ho! that's how it is, is it, Norrie, me lad?" He swung one footviciously at Cadogan's hand where it was gripped around the hook. Cadogan swooped again with his free hand, caught the man by the swingingankle, and hauled him off the raft. He released his grip of the man'sankle, only to shift it to his throat. The man seized Cadogan's freewrist with both hands. Cadogan, hanging to the hook with one hand andgripping the man's throat with the other, continued to squeeze the man'sthroat. The man's legs kicked convulsively. Cadogan continued tosqueeze. When the legs stopped kicking, Cadogan forced the head underwater and eased up on his grip. Bubbles rose up and burst on thesurface. Cadogan placed his ear close to the water to hear. When hecould no longer hear the bubbles he loosed his grip. 

With hands to the falls and feet against the ship's side, Cadoganclimbed to the deck where he had left his coat. He found it kicked toone side and trampled upon. But the little photograph was stillthere--in the inside pocket. 

He took off his cap, the cap of the drowned man, while he kissed thelittle photograph. "Coming, coming, oh, coming!" he murmured. 

"Have you room for a passenger?" came in a man's voice from the dark. 

Cadogan whirled. "Passenger? Passenger! I've fought and schemedand--Oh!"

It was Lavis, and, clinging to his hand, was somebody in a man's longulster. 

"It's the woman--you remember her?--who passed her baby boy into theboat so that he would be saved. "

Cadogan said nothing. 

"A few minutes ago I found her. She was weeping for her baby. I askedher why she should be weeping now that her baby was safe, and sheanswered me: 'But who will be there to give him the breast when hewakes?'"

Cadogan rested his left hand, with the fingers clinched around the cap, on the ship's rail. 

"If Christ on earth were to be with us once more, " went on Lavissoftly, "would he not say again: 'Greater love hath no man than this'?'Who will be there to give him the breast when he wakes?'--and she aboutto die. Have you room for her as a passenger on your raft?"

"It will bear only one. "

Lavis waited. 

Cadogan unloosed the fingers of the hand on the rail. The cap droppedinto the sea. 

"She shall be the one, " he said presently. 

In the rosy flush of a beautiful dawn a lone woman on a tiny raftdrifted down to her crying baby and gave him suck. 

+-----------------------------------------------------------------------+|Transcriber's Notes: Minor changes have been made to make spelling and ||punctuation consistent throughout the work. Italics have been replaced ||with "_"(underline). Instances of ligature "oe" have been replaced with||simple "oe". |+-----------------------------------------------------------------------+