Transcriber's note:

 Minor typographical errors have been corrected without note. 

 Dialect spellings, contractions and discrepancies have been retained. 

"WHERE ANGELS FEAR TO TREAD"

AND OTHER TALES OF THE SEA

by

MORGAN ROBERTSON

Published by The Century Co. New York M DCCC XC IX

Copyright, 1899, byThe Century Co. 

Copyright, 1898, by Houghton, Mifflin & Co. Copyright, 1898, 1899, by The Curtis Publishing Co. Copyright, 1899, by Peter Fénelon Collier. Copyright, 1899, by Street & Smith. Copyright, 1897, 1898, by The S. S. McClure Co. Copyright, 1898, by Harper & Brothers. 

TO ITS GODFATHERJOHN S. PHILLIPSTHIS BOOK IS GRATEFULLYDEDICATED

"'Where Angels Fear to Tread'" was first published in the "AtlanticMonthly"; "Salvage" in the "Century Magazine"; "The Brain of theBattle-Ship, " "The Wigwag Message, " "Between the Millstones, " and"The Battle of the Monsters, " in the "Saturday Evening Post"; "TheTrade-Wind" in "Collier's Weekly"; "From the Royal-Yard Down" in"Ainslee's Magazine"; "Needs Must when the Devil Drives" and "WhenGreek Meets Greek" in McClure's Syndicate; and "Primordial" in"Harper's Monthly Magazine. "

To the publishers of these periodicals I am indebted for the privilegeof republishing the stories in book form. 

MORGAN ROBERTSON. 

CONTENTS

 PAGE

"WHERE ANGELS FEAR TO TREAD" 1

THE BRAIN OF THE BATTLE-SHIP 57

THE WIGWAG MESSAGE 88

THE TRADE-WIND 111

SALVAGE 137

BETWEEN THE MILLSTONES 170

THE BATTLE OF THE MONSTERS 193

FROM THE ROYAL-YARD DOWN 213

NEEDS MUST WHEN THE DEVIL DRIVES 233

WHEN GREEK MEETS GREEK 259

PRIMORDIAL 272

"WHERE ANGELS FEAR TO TREAD"

"I have seen wicked men and fools, a great many of each; and Ibelieve they both get paid in the end, but the fools first. " ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON. 

PART I

The first man to climb the _Almena's_ side-ladder from the tug was theshipping-master, and after him came the crew he had shipped. Theyclustered at the rail, looking around and aloft with muttered profanecomments, one to the other, while the shipping-master approached agray-eyed giant who stood with a shorter but broader man at thepoop-deck steps. 

"Mr. Jackson--the mate here, I s'pose?" inquired the shipping-master. Anod answered him. "I've brought you a good crew, " he continued; "we'lljust tally 'em off, and then you can sign my receipt. The captain'll bedown with the pilot this afternoon. "

"I'm the mate--yes, " said the giant; "but what dry-goods store did youraid for that crowd? Did the captain pick 'em out?"

"A delegation o' parsons, " muttered the short, broad man, contemptuously. 

"No, they're not parsons, " said the shipping-master, as he turned tothe man, the slightest trace of a smile on his seamy face. "You're Mr. Becker, the second mate, I take it; you'll find 'em all right, sir. They're sailors, and good ones, too. No, Mr. Jackson, the skipperdidn't pick 'em--just asked me for sixteen good men, and there you are. Muster up to the capstan here, boys, " he called, "and be counted. "

As they grouped themselves amidships with their clothes-bags, theshipping-master beckoned the chief mate over to the rail. 

"You see, Mr. Jackson, " he said, with a backward glance at the men, "I've only played the regular dodge on 'em. They've all got thesailor's bug in their heads and want to go coasting; so I told 'em thiswas a coaster. "

"So she is, " answered the officer; "round the Horn to Callao iscoasting. What more do they want?"

"Yes, but I said nothin' of Callao, and they were all three sheets i'the wind when they signed, so they didn't notice the articles. Theyexpected a schooner, too, big enough for sixteen men; but I've justtalked 'em out of that notion. They think, too, that they'll have aweek in port to see if they like the craft; and to make 'em think itwas easy to quit, I told 'em to sign nicknames--made 'em believe that awrong name on the articles voided the contract. "

"But it don't. They're here, and they'll stay--that is, if they knowenough to man the windlass. "

"Of course--of course. I'm just givin' you a pointer. You may have torun them a little at the start, but that's easy. Now we'll tally 'emoff. Don't mind the names; they'll answer to 'em. You see, they're alltownies, and bring their names from home. "

The shipping-master drew a large paper from his pocket, and theyapproached the men at the capstan, where the short, broad second matehad been taking their individual measures with scowling eye. 

It was a strange crew for the forecastle of an outward-bound, deep-water American ship. Mr. Jackson looked in vain for the heavy, foreign faces, the greasy canvas jackets and blanket trousers he wasaccustomed to see. Not that these men seemed to be landsmen--eachcarried in his face and bearing the indefinable something by whichsailors of all races may distinguish each other at a glance fromfishermen, tugmen, and deck-hands. They were all young men, and theirintelligent faces--blemished more or less with marks of overnightdissipation--were as sunburnt as were those of the two mates; and wherea hand could be seen, it showed as brown and tarry as that of theablest able seaman. There were no chests among them, but the canvasclothes-bags were the genuine article, and they shouldered and handledthem as only sailors can. Yet, aside from these externals, they gave nosign of being anything but well-paid, well-fed, self-respectingcitizens, who would read the papers, discuss politics, raise families, and drink more than is good on pay-nights, to repent at church in themorning. The hands among them that were hidden were covered withwell-fitting gloves--kid or dog-skin; all wore white shirts andfashionable neckwear; their shoes were polished; their hats were instyle; and here and there, where an unbuttoned, silk-faced overcoatexposed the garments beneath, could be seen a gold watch-chain withtasteful charm. 

"Now, boys, " said the shipping-master, cheerily, as he unfolded thearticles on the capstan-head, "answer, and step over to starboard as Iread your names. Ready? Tosser Galvin. "

"Here. " A man carried his bag across the deck a short distance. 

"Bigpig Monahan. " Another--as large a man as the mate--answered andfollowed. 

"Moccasey Gill. "

"Good God!" muttered the mate, as this man responded. 

"Sinful Peck. " An undersized man, with a cultivated blond mustache, lifted his hat politely to Mr. Jackson, disclosing a smooth, bald head, and passed over, smiling sweetly. Whatever his character, his namebelied his appearance; for his face was cherubic in its innocence. 

"Say, " interrupted the mate, angrily, "what kind of a game is this, anyhow? Are these men sailors?"

"Yes, yes, " answered the shipping-master, hurriedly; "you'll find 'emall right. And, Sinful, " he added, as he frowned reprovingly at thelast man named, "don't you get gay till my receipt's signed and I'mclear of you. "

Mr. Jackson wondered, but subsided; and, each name bringing forth aresponse, the reader called off: "Seldom Helward, Shiner O'Toole, Senator Sands, Jump Black, Yampaw Gallagher, Sorry Welch, YorkerJimson, General Lannigan, Turkey Twain, Gunner Meagher, Ghost O'Brien, and Poop-deck Cahill. "

Then the astounded Mr. Jackson broke forth profanely. "I've beenshipmates, " he declared between oaths, "with freak names of allnations; but this gang beats me. Say, you, " he called, --"you with thecro'-jack eye there, --what's that name you go by? Who are you?" Hespoke to the large man who had answered to "Bigpig Monahan, " and whosuffered from a slight distortion of one eye; but the man, instead ofcivilly repeating his name, answered curtly and coolly:

"I'm the man that struck Billy Patterson. "

Fully realizing that the mate who hesitates is lost, and earnestlyresolved to rebuke this man as his insolence required, Mr. Jackson hadsecured a belaying-pin and almost reached him, when he found himselflooking into the bore of a pistol held by the shipping-master. 

"Now, stop this, " said the latter, firmly; "stop it right here, Mr. Jackson. These men are under my care till you've signed my receipt. After that you can do as you like; but if you touch one of them beforeyou sign, I'll have you up 'fore the commissioner. And you fellers, " hesaid over his shoulder, "you keep still and be civil till I'm rid ofyou. I've used you well, got your berths, and charged you nothin'. AllI wanted was to get Cappen Benson the right kind of a crew. "

"Let's see that receipt, " snarled the mate. "Put that gun up, too, orI'll show you one of my own. I'll tend to your good men when you getashore. " He glared at the quiescent Bigpig, and followed theshipping-master--who still held his pistol ready, however--over to therail, where the receipt was produced and signed. 

"Away you go, now, " said the mate; "you and your gun. Get over theside. "

The shipping-master did not answer until he had scrambled down to thewaiting tug and around to the far side of her deck-house. There, readyto dodge, he looked up at the mate with a triumphant grin on his shrewdface, and called:

"Say, Mr. Jackson, 'member the old bark _Fair Wind_ ten years ago, and the ordinary seaman you triced up and skinned alive with adeck-scraper? D' you 'member, curse you? 'Member breakin' the sameboy's arm with a heaver? You do, don't you? I'm him. 'Member me sayin'I'd get square?"

He stepped back to avoid the whirling belaying-pin sent by the mate, which, rebounding, only smashed a window in the pilot-house. Then, amidan exchange of blasphemous disapproval between Mr. Jackson and the tugcaptain, and derisive jeers from the shipping-master, --who also averredthat Mr. Jackson ought to be shot, but was not worth hanging for, --thetug gathered in her lines and steamed away. 

Wrathful of soul, Mr. Jackson turned to the men on the deck. They hadchanged their position; they were now close to the fife-rail at themainmast, surrounding Bigpig Monahan (for by their names we must knowthem), who, with an injured expression of face, was shedding outergarments and voicing his opinion of Mr. Jackson, which the othersanswered by nods and encouraging words. He had dropped a pair ofstarched cuffs over a belaying-pin, and was rolling up hisshirt-sleeve, showing an arm as large as a small man's leg, and themate was just about to interrupt the discourse, when the second matecalled his name. Turning, he beheld him beckoning violently from thecabin companionway, and joined him. 

"Got your gun, Mr. Jackson?" asked the second officer, anxiously, as hedrew him within the door. "I started for mine when the shippin'-masterpulled. I can't make that crowd out; but they're lookin' for fight, that's plain. When you were at the rail they were sayin': 'Soak him, Bigpig. ' 'Paste him, Bigpig. ' 'Put a head on him. ' They might be a loto' prize-fighters. "

Mr. Becker was not afraid; his position and duties forbade it. He wassimply human, and confronted with a new problem. 

"Don't care a rap what they are, " answered the mate, who was sufficientlywarmed up to welcome any problem. "They'll get fight enough. We'lloverhaul their dunnage first for whisky and knives, then turn them to. Come on--I'm heeled. "

They stepped out and advanced to the capstan amidships, each with ahand in his trousers pocket. 

"Pile those bags against the capstan here, and go forrard, " ordered themate, in his most officer-like tone. 

"Go to the devil, " they answered. "What for?--they're our bags, notyours. Who in Sam Hill are you, anyhow? What are you? You talk like ap'liceman. "

Before this irreverence could be replied to Bigpig Monahan advanced. 

"Look here, old horse, " he said; "I don't know whether you're captainor mate, or owner or cook; and I don't care, either. You had somethin'to say 'bout my eyes just now. Nature made my eyes, and I can't helphow they look; but I don't allow any big bull-heads to make remarks'bout 'em. You're spoilin' for somethin'. Put up your hands. " He threwhimself into an aggressive attitude, one mighty fist within six inchesof Mr. Jackson's face. 

"Go forrard, " roared the officer, his gray eyes sparkling; "forrard, all o' you!"

"We'll settle this; then we'll go forrard. There'll be fair play; thesemen'll see to that. You'll only have me to handle. Put up. "

Mr. Jackson did not "put up. " He repeated again his order to goforward, and was struck on the nose--not a hard blow; just apreliminary tap, which started blood. He immediately drew his pistoland shot the man, who fell with a groan. 

An expression of shock and horror over-spread every face among thecrew, and they surged back, away from that murderous pistol. Amomentary hesitance followed, then horror gave way to furious rage, andcarnage began. Coats and vests were flung off, belaying-pins andcapstan-bars seized; inarticulate, half-uttered imprecations punctuatedby pistol reports drowned the storm of abuse with which the matesjustified the shot, and two distinct bands of men swayed and zig-zaggedabout the deck, the center of each an officer fighting according to hislights--shooting as he could between blows of fists and clubs. Then thesmoke of battle thinned, and two men with sore heads and bleeding facesretreated painfully and hurriedly to the cabin, followed by snarlingmaledictions and threats. 

It was hardly a victory for either side. The pistols were empty and thefight taken out of the mates for a time; and on the deck lay threemoaning men, while two others clung to the fife-rail, draining bloodfrom limp, hanging arms. But eleven sound and angry men were left--andthe officers had more ammunition. They entered their rooms, moppedtheir faces with wet towels, reloaded the firearms, pocketed theremaining cartridges, and returned to the deck, the mate carrying asmall ensign. 

"We'll run it up to the main, Becker, " he said thickly, --for hesuffered, --ignoring in his excitement the etiquette of thequarter-deck. 

"Aye, aye, " said the other, equally unmindful of his breeding. "Will wego for 'em again?" The problem had defined itself to Mr. Becker. Thesemen would fight, but not shoot. 

"No, no, " answered the mate; "not unless they go for us and it'sself-defense. They're not sailors--they don't know where they are. Wedon't want to get into trouble. Sailors don't act that way. We'll waitfor the captain or the police. " Which, interpreted, and plus the slightshade of anxiety showing in his disfigured face, meant that Mr. Jacksonwas confronted with a new phase of the problem: as to how much moreunsafe it might be to shoot down, on the deck of a ship, men who didnot know where they were, than to shoot down sailors who did. So, whilethe uninjured men were assisting the wounded five into the forecastle, the police flag was run up to the main-truck, and the two mates retiredto the poop to wait and watch. 

In a few moments the eleven men came aft in a body, empty-handed, however, and evidently with no present hostile intention: they hadmerely come for their clothes. But that dunnage had not been searched;and in it might be all sorts of dangerous weapons and equally dangerouswhisky, the possession of which could bring an unpleasant solution tothe problem. So Mr. Jackson and Mr. Becker leveled their pistols overthe poop-rail, and the chief mate roared: "Let those things alone--let'em alone, or we'll drop some more o' you. "

The men halted, hesitated, and sullenly returned to the forecastle. 

"Guess they've had enough, " said Mr. Becker, jubilantly. 

"Don't fool yourself. They're not used to blood-letting, that's all. Ifit wasn't for my wife and the kids I'd lower the dinghy and jump her;and it isn't them I'd run from, either. As it is, I've half a mind tohaul down the flag, and let the old man settle it. Steward, " he calledto a mild-faced man who had been flitting from galley to cabin, unmindful of the disturbance, "go forrard and find out how bad thosefellows are hurt. Don't say I sent you, though. "

The steward obeyed, and returned with the information that two men hadbroken arms, two flesh-wounds in the legs, and one--the bigman--suffered from a ragged hole through the shoulder. All werestretched out in bedless bunks, unwilling to move. He had been askednumerous questions by the others--as to where the ship was bound, whothe men were who had shot them, why there was no bedding in theforecastle, the captain's whereabouts, and the possibility of gettingashore to swear out warrants. He had also been asked for bandages andhot water, which he requested permission to supply, as the wounded menwere suffering greatly. This permission was refused, and theslight--very slight--nautical flavor to the queries, and the hopefulcondition of the stricken ones, decided Mr. Jackson to leave the policeflag at the masthead. 

When dinner was served in the cabin, and Mr. Jackson sat down before asavory roast, leaving Mr. Becker on deck to watch, the steward impartedthe additional information that the men forward expected to eat in thecabin. 

"Hang it!" he mused; "they can't be sailor-men. "

Then Mr. Becker reached his head down the skylight, and said: "Raisin'the devil with the cook, sir--dragged him out o' the galley into theforecastle. "

"Are they coming aft?"

"No, sir. "

"All right. Watch out. "

The mate went on eating, and the steward hurried forward to learn thefate of his assistant. He did not return until Mr. Jackson was about toleave the cabin. Then he came, with a wry face and disgust in his soul, complaining that he had been seized, hustled into the forecastle, andcompelled, with the Chinese cook, to eat of the salt beef and pea-soupprepared for the men, which lay untouched by them. In spite of hisaches and trouble of mind, Mr. Jackson was moved to a feeble grin. 

"Takes a sailor or a hog to eat it, hey, Steward?" he said. 

He relieved Mr. Becker, who ate his dinner hurriedly, as became a goodsecond mate, and the two resumed their watch on the poop, noticing thatthe cook was jabbering Chinese protest in the galley, and that the menhad climbed to the topgallant-forecastle--also watching, andoccasionally waving futile signals to passing tugs or smallsailing-craft. They, too, might have welcomed the police boat. 

But, either because the _Almena_ lay too far over on the Jersey flatsfor the flag to be noticed, or because harbor police share thefallibility of their shore brethren in being elsewhere when wanted, noshiny black steamer with blue-coated guard appeared to investigate thetrouble, and it was well on toward three o'clock before a tug left thebeaten track to the eastward and steamed over to the ship. The officerstook her lines as she came alongside, and two men climbed theside-ladder--one, a Sandy Hook pilot, who need not be described; theother, the captain of the ship. 

Captain Benson, in manner and appearance, was as superior to thesmooth-shaven and manly-looking Mr. Jackson as the latter was to themisformed, hairy, and brutal second mate. With his fashionably cutclothing, steady blue eye, and refined features, he could have beentaken for an easy-going club-man or educated army officer rather thanthe master of a working-craft. Yet there was no lack of seamanlydecision in the leap he made from the rail to the deck, or in the toneof his voice as he demanded:

"What's the police flag up for, Mr. Jackson?"

"Mutiny, sir. They started in to lick me 'fore turning to, and we'veshot five, but none of them fatally. "

"Lower that flag--at once. "

Mr. Becker obeyed this order, and as the flag fluttered down thecaptain received an account of the crew's misdoing from the mate. Hestepped into his cabin, and returning with a double-barreled shot-gun, leaned it against the booby-hatch, and said quietly: "Call all handsaft who can come. "

Mr. Jackson delivered the order in a roar, and the eleven men forward, who had been watching the newcomers from the forecastle-deck, straggledaft and clustered near the capstan, all of them hatless and coatless, shivering palpably in the keen December air. With no flinching of theireyes, they stared at Captain Benson and the pilot. 

"Now, men, " said the captain, "what's this trouble about? What's thematter?"

"Are you the captain here?" asked a red-haired, Roman-nosed man, as hestepped out of the group. "There's matter enough. We ship for a rundown to Rio Janeiro and back in a big schooner; and here we're putaboard a square-rigged craft, that we don't know anything about, boundfor Callao, and 'fore we're here ten minutes we're howled at and shot. Bigpig Monahan thinks he's goin' to die; he's bleedin'--they're allbleedin', like stuck pigs. Sorry Welch and Turkey Twain ha' got brokenarms, and Jump Black and Ghost O'Brien got it in the legs and can'tstand up. What kind o' work is this, anyhow?"

"That's perfectly right. You were shot for assaulting my officers. Doyou call yourselves able seamen, and say you know nothing aboutsquare-rigged craft?"

"We're able seamen on the Lakes. We can get along in schooners. That'swhat we came down for. "

Captain Benson's lips puckered, and he whistled softly. "The Lakes, " hesaid--"lake sailors. What part of the Lakes?"

"Oswego. We're all union men. "

The captain took a turn or two along the deck, then faced them, andsaid: "Men, I've been fooled as well as you. I would not have an Oswegosailor aboard my ship--much less a whole crew of them. You may knowyour work up there, but are almost useless here until you learn. Although I paid five dollars a man for you, I'd put you ashore and shipa new crew were it not for the fact that five wounded men going out ofthis ship requires explanations, which would delay my sailing and incurexpense to my owners. However, I give you the choice--to go to sea, andlearn your work under the mates, or go to jail as mutineers; for toprotect my officers I must prosecute you all. "

"S'pose we do neither?"

"You will probably be shot--to the last resisting man--either by us orthe harbor police. You are up against the law. "

They looked at each other with varying expressions on their faces; thenone asked: "What about the bunks in the forecastle? There's nobedding. "

"If you failed to bring your own, you will sleep on the bunk-boardswithout it. "

"And that swill the Chinaman cooked at dinner-time--what about that?"

"You will get the allowance of provisions provided by law--no more. Andyou will eat it in the forecastle. Also, if you have neglected to bringpots, pans, and spoons, you will very likely eat it with your fingers. This is not a lake vessel, where sailors eat at the cabin table, withknives and forks. Decide this matter quickly. "

The captain began pacing the deck, and the listening pilot steppedforward, and said kindly: "Take my advice, boys, and go along. You'rein for it if you don't. "

They thanked him with their eyes for the sympathy, conferred togetherfor a few moments, then their spokesman called out: "We'll leave it tothe fellers forrard, captain"; and forward they trooped. In fiveminutes they were back, with resolution in their faces. 

"We'll go, captain, " their leader said. "Bigpig can't be moved 'thoutkillin' him, and says if he lives he'll follow your mate to hell buthe'll pay him back; and the others talk the same; and we'll stand by'em--we'll square up this day's work. "

Captain Benson brought his walk to a stop close to the shot-gun. "Verywell, that is your declaration, " he said, his voice dropping theconversational tone he had assumed, and taking on one more inaccordance with his position; "now I will deliver mine. We sail at oncefor Callao and back to an American port of discharge. You know yourwages--fourteen dollars a month. I am master of this ship, responsibleto my owners and the law for the lives of all on board. And thisresponsibility includes the right to take the life of a mutineer. Youhave been such, but I waive the charge considering your ignorance ofsalt-water custom and your agreement to start anew. The law definesyour allowance of food, but not your duties or your working- andsleeping-time. That is left to the discretion of your captain andofficers. Precedent--the decision of the courts--has decided theprivilege of a captain or officer to punish insolence or lack ofrespect from a sailor with a blow--of a fist or missile; but, understand me now, a return of the blow makes that man a mutineer, andhis prompt killing is justified by the law of the land. Is this plainto you? You are here to answer and obey orders respectfully, adding theword 'sir' to each response; you are never to go to windward of anofficer, or address him by name without the prefix 'Mr. '; and you areto work civilly and faithfully, resenting nothing said to you until youare discharged in an American port at the end of the voyage. A failurein this will bring you prompt punishment; and resentment of thispunishment on your part will bring--death. Mr. Jackson, " he concluded, turning to his first officer, "overhaul their dunnage, turn them to, and man the windlass. "

A man--the bald-headed Sinful Peck--sprang forward; but his face wasnot cherubic now. His blue eyes blazed with emotion much in keepingwith his sobriquet; and, raising his hand, the nervously crookingfingers of which made it almost a fist, he said, in a voice explosivelystrident:

"That's all right. That's _your_ say. You've described the condition o'nigger slaves, not American voters. And I'll tell you one thing, righthere--I'm a free-born citizen. I know my work, and can do it, withoutbein' cursed and abused; and if you or your mates rub my fur the wrongway I'm goin' to claw back; and if I'm shot, you want to shoot sure;for if you don't, I'll kill that man, if I have to lash my knife to abroom-handle, and prod him through his window when he's asleep. "

But alas for Sinful Peck! He had barely finished his defiance when hefell like a log under the impact of the big mate's fist; then, whilethe pilot, turning his back on the painful scene, walked aft, noddingand shaking his head, and the captain's strong language and leveledshot-gun induced the men to an agitated acquiescence, the two officerskicked and stamped upon the little man until consciousness left him. Before he recovered he had been ironed to a stanchion in the'tween-deck, and entered in the captain's official log for threateninglife. And by this time the dunnage had been searched, a fewsheath-knives tossed overboard, and the remaining ten men were moodilyheaving in the chain. 

And so, with a crippled crew of schooner sailors, the square-rigger_Almena_ was towed to sea, smoldering rebellion in one end of her, thepower of the law in the other--murder in the heart of every man onboard. 

PART II

Five months later the _Almena_ lay at an outer mooring-buoy in CallaoRoads, again ready for sea, but waiting. With her at the anchoragewere representatives of most of the maritime nations. English shipsand barks with painted ports and spider-web braces, high-sided, square-sterned American half-clippers, clumsy, square-bowed "Dutchmen, "coasting-brigs of any nation, lumber-schooners from "'Frisco, "hide-carriers from Valparaiso, pearl-boats and fishermen, and even acouple of homesick Malay proas from the west crowded the roadstead; forthe guano trade was booming, and Callao prosperous. Nearly every typeof craft known to sailors was there; but the postman and the policemanof the seas--the coastwise mail-steamer and the heavily sparredman-of-war--were conspicuously absent. The Pacific Mail boat would notarrive for a week, and the last cruiser had departed two days before. 

Beyond the faint land- and sea-breeze, there was no wind nor promise ofit for several days; and Captain Benson, though properly cleared at thecustom-house for New York, was in no hurry, and had taken advantage ofthe delay to give a dinner to some captains with whom he hadfraternized on shore. "I've a first-rate steward, " he had told them, "and I'll treat you well; and I've the best-trained crew that ever wentto sea. Come, all of you, and bring your first officers. I want to giveyou an object-lesson on the influence of matter over mind that youcan't learn in the books. "

So they came, at half-past eleven, in their own ships' dinghies, whichwere sent back with orders to return at nightfall--six big-fisted, more or less fat captains, and six big-fisted, beetle-browed, andembarrassed chief mates. As they climbed the gangway they were met andwelcomed by Captain Benson, who led them to the poop, the only dry andclean part of the ship; for the _Almena's_ crew were holystoning themain-deck, and as this operation consists in grinding off the oiledsurface of the planks with sandstone, the resulting slime of sand, oilywood-pulp, and salt water made walking unpleasant, as well as beingvery hard on polished shoe-leather. But in this filthy slime the menwere on their knees, working the six-inch blocks of stone, technicallycalled "bibles, " back and forth with about the speed and motion of anenergetic woman over a wash-board. 

The mates also were working. With legs clad in long rubber boots, theyfilled buckets at the deck-pump and scattered water around whereneeded, occasionally throwing the whole bucketful at a doubtful spot onthe deck to expose it to criticism. As the visitors lined up againstthe monkey-rail and looked down on the scene, Mr. Becker launched sucha bucketful as only a second mate can--and a man who happened to be inthe way was rolled over by the unexpected impact. He gasped a littlelouder than might have been necessary, and the wasting of the bucketfulof water having forced Mr. Becker to make an extra trip to the pump, the officer was duly incensed. 

"Get out o' the way, there, " he bawled, eying the man sternly. "Whatare you gruntin' at? A little water won't hurt you--soap neither. "

He went to the pump for more water, and the man crawled back to hisholystone. It was Bigpig Monahan, hollow-eyed and thin, slow in hisvoluntary movements; minus his look of injury, too, as though he mighthave welcomed the bowling over as a momentary respite for his achingmuscles. 

Now and then, when the officers' faces were partly turned, a man wouldstop, rise erect on his knees, and bend backward. A man may work aholystone much longer and press it much harder on the deck for theseoccasional stretchings of contracted tissue; but the two mates chose toignore this physiological fact, and a moment later, a little man, caught in the act by Mr. Jackson, was also rolled over on his back, notby a bucket of water, but by the boot of the mate, who uttered wordssuitable to the occasion, and held his hand in his pocket until thelittle man, grinning with rage, had resumed his work. 

"There, " said Captain Benson to his guests on the poop; "see thatlittle devil! See him show his teeth! That is Mr. Sinful Peck. I've hadhim in irons with a broken head five times, and the log is full of him. I towed him over the stern running down the trades to take thecussedness out of him, and if he had not been born for higher things, he'd have drowned. He was absolutely unconquerable until I found himtelling his beads one time in irons and took them away from him. Now toget an occasional chance at them he is fairly quiet. "

"So this is your trained crew, is it, captain?" said a grizzled oldskipper of the party. "What ails that fellow down in the scuppers witha prayer-book?" He pointed to a man who with one hand was rubbing asmall holystone in a corner where a large one would not go. 

"Ran foul of the big end of a handspike, " answered Captain Benson, quietly; "he'll carry his arm in splints all the way home, I think. Hisname is Gunner Meagher. I don't know how they got their names, but theysigned them and will answer to them. They are unique. Look at thatoutlaw down there by the bitts. That is Poop-deck Cahill. Looks like aprize-fighter, doesn't he? But the steward tells me that he waseducated for the priesthood, and fell by the wayside. That one close tothe hatch--the one with the red head and hang-dog jib--is SeldomHelward. He was shot off the cro'-jack yard; he fell into the lee clewof the cro'-jack, so we pulled him in. "

"What did he do, captain?" asked the grizzled skipper. 

"Threw a marlinespike at the mate. "

"What made him throw it?"

"Never asked. I suppose he objected to something said to him. "

"Ought to ha' killed him on the yard. Are they all of a kind?"

"Every man. Not one knew the ropes or his place when he shipped. They're schooner sailors from the Lakes, where the captain, if he iscivil and respectful to his men, is as good as any of them. Theystarted to clean us up the first day, but failed, and I went to seawith them. Since then, until lately, it has been war to the knife. I'veset more bones, mended more heads, and plugged more shot-holes on thispassage than ever before, and my officers have grown perceptiblythinner; but little by little, man by man, we've broken them in. Still, I admit, it was a job. Why, that same Seldom Helward I ironed and ranup on the fall of a main-buntline. We were rolling before a stiffbreeze and sea, and he would swing six feet over each rail and batagainst the mast in transit; but the dog stood it eight hours before hestopped cursing us. Then he was unconscious. When he came to in theforecastle, he was ready to begin again; but they stopped him. They'rekeeping a log, I learn, and are going to law. Every time a man getsthumped they enter the tragedy, and all sign their names. "

Captain Benson smiled dignifiedly in answer to the outburst of laughterevoked by this, and the men below lifted their haggard, hopeless facesan instant, and looked at the party with eyes that werefurtive--cat-like. The grinding of the stones prevented their hearingthe talk, but they knew that they were being laughed at. 

"Never knew a sailor yet, " wheezed a portly and asthmatic captain, "whowasn't ready to sue the devil and try the court in hell when he's atsea. Trouble is, they never get past the first saloon. "

"They got a little law here, " resumed Captain Benson, quietly. "I putthem all in the guardo. The consul advised it, and committed them forfear they might desert when we lay at the dock. When I took them out torun to the islands, they complained of being starved; and to tell thetruth, they didn't throw their next meal overboard as usual. Nevertheless, a good four weeks' board-bill comes out of their wages. Idon't think they'll have a big pay-day in New York: the natives cleanedout the forecastle in their absence, and they'll have to draw heavilyon my slop-chest. "

"That's where captains have the best of it, " said one of the mates, jocularly--and presumptuously, to judge by his captain's frown; "wehammer 'em round and wear out their clothes, and it's the captain thatsells 'em new ones. "

"Captain, " said the grizzled one, who had been scanning the crewintently, "I'd pay that crew off if I were you; you ought to ha' let'em run, or worked 'em out and saved their pay. Look at 'em--look atthe devils in their eyes. I notice your mates seldom turn their backson 'em. I'd get rid of 'em. "

"What! Just when we have them under control and useful? Oh, no! Theyknow their work now, and I'd only have to ship a crowd of beach-combersand half-breeds at nearly double pay. Besides, gentlemen, we're just alittle proud of this crew. They are lake sailors from Oswego, a littleport on Lake Ontario. When I was young I sailed on the Lakes a seasonor two and became thoroughly acquainted with the aggressiveself-respect of that breed. They would rather fight than eat. Theirreputation in this regard prevents them getting berths in any butOswego vessels, and even affects the policy of the nation. There's afort at Oswego, and whenever a company of soldiers anywhere in thecountry become unmanageable--when their officers can't control themoutside the guard-house--the War Department at Washington transfersthem to Oswego for the tutelage they will get from the sailors. Andthey get it; they are well-behaved, well-licked soldiers when theyleave. An Oswego sailor loves a row. He is possessed by the fightingspirit of a bulldog; he inherits it with his Irish sense of injury; hesucks it in with his mother's milk, and drinks it in with his whisky;and when no enemies are near, he will fight his friends. Pay them off?Not much. I've taken sixteen of those devils round the Horn, and I'lltake them back. I'm proud of them. Just look at them, " he concludedvivaciously, as he waved his hand at his men; "docile and obedient, down on their knees with bibles and prayer-books. "

"And the name o' the Lord on their lips, " grunted the adviser; "but notin prayer, I'll bet you. "

"Hardly, " laughed Captain Benson. "Come below, gentlemen; the stewardis ready. "

From lack of facilities the mild-faced and smiling steward could notserve that dinner with the style which it deserved. He would haveliked, he explained, as they seated themselves, to bring it on inseparate courses; but one and all disclaimed such frivolity. The dinnerwas there, and that was enough. And it was a splendid dinner. In frontof Captain Benson, at the head of the table, stood a large tureen ofsmoking terrapin-stew; next to that a stuffed and baked freshly caughtfish; and waiting their turn in the center of the spread, a couple ofbrace of wild geese from the inland lakes, brown and glistening, oyster-dressed and savory. Farther along was a steaming plum-pudding, overhead on a swinging tray a dozen bottles of wine, by the captain'selbow a decanter of yellow fluid, and before each man's plate a coupleof glasses of different size. 

"We'll start off with an appetizer, gentlemen, " said the host, as hepassed the decanter to his neighbor. "Here is some of the best Dutchcourage ever distilled; try it. "

The decanter went around, each filling his glass and holding it poised;then, when all were supplied, they drank to the grizzled old captain'stoast: "A speedy and pleasant passage home for the _Almena_, andfurther confusion to her misguided crew. " The captain respondedgracefully, and began serving the stew, which the steward took from himplate by plate, and passed around. 

But, either because thirteen men had sat down to that table, or becausethe Fates were unusually freakish that day, it was destined that, beyond the initial glass of whisky, not a man present should partake ofCaptain Benson's dinner. On deck things had been happening, and just asthe host had filled the last plate for himself, a wet, bedraggled, dirty little man, his tarry clothing splashed with the slime of thedeck, his eyes flaming green, his face expanded to a smile of ferocity, appeared in the forward doorway, holding a cocked revolver whichcovered them all. Behind him in the passage were other men, equallyunkempt, their eyes wide open with excitement and anticipation. 

"Don't ye move, " yelped the little man, "not a man. Keep yer hands outo' yer pockets. Put 'em over yer heads. That's it. You too, cappen. "

They obeyed him (there was death in the green eyes and smile), all butone. Captain Benson sprang to his feet, with a hand in his breastpocket. 

"You scoundrels!" he cried, as he drew forth a pistol. "Leave this----"The speech was stopped by a report, deafening in the closed-up space;and Captain Benson fell heavily, his pistol rattling on the floor. 

"Hang me up, will ye?" growled another voice through the smoke. 

In the after-door were more men, the red-haired Seldom Helward in thevan, holding a smoking pistol. "Get the gun, one o' you fellows overthere, " he called. 

A man stepped in and picked up the pistol, which he cocked. 

"One by one, " said Seldom, his voice rising to the pitch and timbre ofa trumpet-blast, "you men walk out the forward companionway with yourhands over your heads. Plug them, Sinful, if two move together, andshoot to kill. "

Taken by surprise, the guests, resolute men though they were, obeyedthe command. As each rose to his feet, he was first relieved of abright revolver, which served to increase the moral front of the enemy, then led out to the booby-hatch, on which lay a newly broached coil ofhambro-line and pile of thole-pins from the boatswain's locker. Here hewas searched again for jack-knife or brass knuckles, bound with thehambro-line, gagged with a thole-pin, and marched forward, past theprostrate first mate, who lay quiet in the scuppers, and the erect butagonized second mate, gagged and bound to the fife-rail, to the portforecastle, where he was locked in with the Chinese cook, who, similarly treated, had preceded. The mild-faced steward, weeping now, as much from professional disappointment as from stronger emotion, wasquestioned sternly, and allowed his freedom on his promise not to "singout" or make trouble. Captain Benson was examined, his injury diagnosedas brain-concussion, from the glancing bullet, more or less serious, and dragged out to the scuppers, where he was bound beside hisunconscious first officer. Then, leaving them to live or die as theirsubconsciousness determined, the sixteen mutineers sacrilegiouslyreëntered the cabin and devoured the dinner. And the appetites theydisplayed--their healthy, hilarious enjoyment of the good things on thetable--so affected the professional sense of the steward that he ceasedhis weeping, and even smiled as he waited on them. 

When you have cursed, beaten, and kicked a slave for five months it isalways advisable to watch him for a few seconds after you administercorrection, to give him time to realize his condition. And when youhave carried a revolver in the right-hand trousers pocket for fivemonths it is advisable occasionally to inspect the cloth of the pocketto make sure that it is not wearing thin from the chafe of the muzzle. Mr. Jackson had ignored the first rule of conduct, Mr. Becker thesecond. Mr. Jackson had kicked Sinful Peck once too often; but notknowing that it was once too often, had immediately turned his back, and received thereat the sharp corner of a bible on his bump ofinhabitiveness, which bump responded in its function; for Mr. Jacksonshowed no immediate desire to move from the place where he fell. Beyondbinding, he received no further attention from the men. Mr. Becker, onhis way to the lazarette in the stern for a bucket of sand to assist inthe holystoning, had reached the head of the poop steps when thisoccurred; and turning at the sound of his superior's fall, had boundedto the main-deck without touching the steps, reaching for his pistol ashe landed, only to pinion his fingers in a large hole in the pocket. Wildly he struggled to reclaim his weapon, down his trouser leg, heldfirmly to his knee by the tight rubber boot; but he could not reach it. His anxious face betrayed his predicament to the wakening men, and whenhe looked into Mr. Jackson's revolver, held by Sinful Peck, hesubmitted to being bound to the fife-rail and gagged with the end ofthe topgallant-sheet--a large rope, which just filled his mouth, andhurt. Then the firearm was recovered, and the descent upon thedinner-party quickly planned and carried out. 

Have you ever seen a kennel of hunting-dogs released on a fine dayafter long confinement--how they bark and yelp, chasing one another, biting playfully, rolling and tumbling over and over in sheer joy andhealthy appreciation of freedom? Without the vocal expression ofemotion, the conduct of these men after that wine dinner was verysimilar to that of such emancipated dogs. They waltzed, boxed, wrestled, threw each other about the deck, turned handsprings andcartwheels, --those not too weak, --buffeted, kicked, and clubbed thesuffering Mr. Becker, reviled and cursed the unconscious captain andchief officer, and when tired of this, as children and dogs of play, they turned to their captives for amusement. The second mate was takenfrom the fife-rail, with hands still bound, and led to the forecastle;the gags of all and the bonds of the cook were removed, and theforecastle dinner was brought from the galley. This they were invitedto eat. There was a piece of salt beef, boiled a little longer thanusual on account of the delay; it was black, brown, green, andiridescent in spots; it was slippery with ptomaïnes, filthy to thesight, stinking, and nauseating. There were potatoes, two years old, shriveled before boiling--hard and soggy, black, blue, and bitter afterthe process. And there was the usual "weevily hardtack" in thebread-barge. 

Protest was useless. The unhappy captives surrounded that dinner on theforecastle floor (for there was neither table to sit at, nor chests, stools, or boxes to sit on, in the apartment), and, with hands behindtheir backs and disgust in their faces, masticated and swallowed themorsels which the Chinese cook put to their mouths, while theirfeelings were further outraged by the hilarity of the men at theirbacks, and their appetites occasionally jogged into activity by theimpact on their heads of a tarry fist or pistol-butt. At last a portlycaptain began vomiting, and this being contagious, the meal ended; foreven the stomachs of the sailors, overcharged as they were with therich food and wine of the cabin table, were affected by the spectacle. 

There were cool heads in that crowd of mutineers--men who thought ofconsequences: Poop-deck Cahill, square-faced and resolute, butthoughtful of eye and refined of speech; Seldom Helward, who had shotthe captain--a man whose fiery hair, arching eyebrows, Roman nose, andexplosive language indicated the daredevil, but whose intelligentthough humorous eye and corrugated forehead gave certain signs ofrepressive study and thought; and Bigpig Monahan, already described. These three men went into session under the break of the poop, and cameto the conclusion that the consul who had jailed them for nothing wouldhang them for this; then, calling the rest to the conference as acommittee of the whole, they outlined and put to vote a proposition tomake sail and go to sea, leaving the fate of their captives for laterconsideration--which was adopted unanimously and with much profanity, the central thought of the latter being an intention to "make 'emfinish the holystonin' for the fun they had laughin' at us. " ThenBigpig Monahan sneaked below and induced the steward to toss throughthe store-room dead-light every bottle of wine and liquor which theship contained. "For Seldom and Poop-deck, " he said to him, "are theonly men in the gang fit to pick up navigation and git this ship intoport again; but if they git their fill of it, it's all day with you, steward. "

Six second mates on six American ships watched curiously, doubtingly, and at last anxiously, as sails were dropped and yards mastheaded onboard the _Almena_, and as she paid off from the mooring-buoy beforethe land-breeze and showed them her stern, sent six dinghies, whichgave up the pursuit in a few minutes and mustered around the buoy, where a wastefully slipped shot of anchor-chain gave additionalevidence that all was not right. But by the time the matter wasreported to the authorities ashore, the _Almena_, having caught thenewly arrived southerly wind off the Peruvian coast, was hull down onthe western horizon. 

 * * * * *

Four days later, one of the _Almena's_ boats, containing twelve menwith sore heads, disfigured faces, and clothing ruined by oilywood-pulp, --ruined particularly about the knees of their trousers, --camewearily into the roadstead from the open sea, past the shipping, and upto the landing at the custom-house docks. From here the twelveproceeded to the American consul and entered bitter complaint ofinhuman treatment received at the hands of sixteen mutinous sailors onboard the _Almena_--treatment so cruel that they had welcomed beingturned adrift in an open boat; whereat, the consul, deploring theabsence of man-of-war or steamer to send in pursuit, took theirindividual affidavits; and these he sent to San Francisco, from whichpoint the account of the crime, described as piracy, spread to everynewspaper in Christendom. 

PART III

A Northeast gale off Hatteras: immense gray combers, five to the mile, charging shoreward, occasionally breaking, again lifting their headstoo high in the effort, truncated as by a knife, and the liquid apexshattered to spray; an expanse of leaden sky showing between therain-squalls, across which heavy background rushed the darker scud andstorm-clouds; a passenger-steamer rolling helplessly in the trough, anda square-rigged vessel, hove to on the port tack, two miles to windwardof the steamer, and drifting south toward the storm-center. This is thepicture that the sea-birds saw at daybreak on a September morning, andcould the sea-birds have spoken they might have told that thesquare-rigged craft carried a navigator who had learned that a whirlingfury of storm-center was less to be feared than the deadly DiamondShoals--the outlying guard of Cape Hatteras toward which that steamerwas drifting, broadside on. 

Clad in yellow oilskins and sou'wester, he stood by theafter-companionway, intently examining through a pair of glasses thewallowing steamer to leeward, barely distinguishable in the half-lightand driving spindrift. On the main-deck a half-dozen men paced up anddown, sheltered by the weather rail; forward, two others walked thedeck by the side of the forward house, but never allowed their march toextend past the after-corner; and at the wheel stood a little man whosheltered a cheerful face under the lee of a big coat-collar, andoccasionally peeped out at the navigator. 

"Poop-deck, " he shouted above the noise of the wind, "take the wheeltill I fire up. "

"Thought I was exempt from steering, " growled the other, good-humoredly, as he placed the glasses inside the companionway. 

"You're getting too fat and sassy; steer a little. "

Poop-deck relieved the little man, who descended the cabin stairs, andreturned in a few moments, smoking a short pipe. He took the wheel, andPoop-deck again examined the steamer with the glasses. 

"There goes his ensign, union down, " he exclaimed; "he's in trouble. We'll show ours. "

From a flag-locker inside the companionway he drew out the Stars andStripes, which he ran up to the monkey-gaff. Then he looked again. 

"Down goes his ensign; up goes the code pennant. He wants to signal. Come up here, boys, " called Poop-deck; "give me a hand. "

As the six men climbed the steps, he pulled out the corresponding codesignal from the locker, and ran it up on the other part of the halyardsas the ensign fluttered down. "Go down, one of you, " he said, "and getthe signal-book and shipping-list. He'll show his number next. Get oursready--R. L. F. T. "

While a man sprang below for the books named, the others hookedtogether the signal-flags forming the ship's number, and Poop-deckresumed the glasses. 

"Q. T. F. N. , " he exclaimed. "Look it up. "

The books had arrived, and while one lowered and hoisted again the codesignal, which was also the answering pennant, the others pored over theshipping-list. 

"Steamer _Aldebaran_ of New York, " they said. 

The pennant came down, and the ship's number went up to the gaff. 

"H. V. , " called Poop-deck, as he scanned two flags now flying from thesteamer's truck. "What does that say?"

"Damaged rudder--cannot steer, " they answered. 

"Pull down the number and show the answering pennant again, " saidPoop-deck; "and let me see that signal-book. " He turned the leaves, studied a page for a moment, then said: "Run up H. V. R. That says, 'What do you want?' and that's the nearest thing to it. "

These flags took the place of the answering pennant at the gaff-end, and again Poop-deck watched through the glasses, noting first theshowing of the steamer's answering pennant, then the letters K. R. N. 

"What does K. R. N. Say?" he asked. 

They turned the leaves, and answered: "I can tow you. "

"Tow us? We're all right; we don't want a tow. He's crazy. How can hetow us when he can't steer?" exclaimed three or four together. 

"He wants to tow us so that he _can_ steer, you blasted fools, " saidPoop-deck. "He can keep head to sea and go where he likes with a bigdrag on his stern. "

"That's so. Where's he bound--'you that has knowledge and eddication'?"

"Didn't say; but he's bound for the Diamond Shoals, and he'll fetch upin three hours, if we can't help him. He's close in. "

"Tow-line's down the forepeak, " said a man. "Couldn't get it up in anhour, " said another. "Yes, we can, " said a third. Then, all speaking atonce, and each raising his voice to its limit, they argued excitedly:"Can't be done. " "Coil it on the forecastle. " "Yes, we can. " "Too muchsea. " "Run down to wind'ard. " "Line 'ud part, anyhow. " "Float abarrel. " "Shut up. " "I tell you, we can. " "Call the watch. " "Seldom, yer daft. " "Needn't get a boat over. " "Hell ye can. " "Call the boys. ""All hands with heavin'-lines. " "Can't back a topsail in this. " "Go laydown. " "Soak yer head, Seldom. " "Hush. " "Shut up. " "Nothing _you_ can'tdo. " "Go to the devil. " "I tell you, we can; do as I say, and we'll geta line to him, or get his. "

The affirmative speaker, who had also uttered the last declaration, wasSeldom Helward. "Put me in command, " he yelled excitedly, "and do whatI tell you, and we'll make fast to him. "

"No captains here, " growled one, while the rest eyed Seldomreprovingly. 

"Well, there ought to be; you're all rattled, and don't know any morethan to let thousands o' dollars slip past you. There's salvage down tolooward. "

"Salvage?"

"Yes, salvage. Big boat--full o' passengers and valuable cargo--shoalsto looward of him--can't steer. You poor fools, what ails you?"

"Foller Seldom, " vociferated the little man at the wheel; "follerSeldom, and ye'll wear stripes. "

"Dry up, Sinful. Call the watch. It's near seven bells, anyhow. Let'shear what the rest say. Strike the bell. "

The uproarious howl with which sailors call the watch below wasdelivered down the cabin stairs, and soon eight other men came up, rubbing their eyes and grumbling at the premature wakening, whileanother man came out of the forecastle and joined the two pacing theforward deck. Seldom Helward's proposition was discussed noisily injoint session on the poop, and finally accepted. 

"We put you in charge, Seldom, against the rule, " said Bigpig Monahan, sternly, "'cause we think you've some good scheme in your head; but ifyou haven't, --if you make a mess of things just to have a little funbossin' us, --you'll hear from us. Go ahead, now. You're captain. "

Seldom climbed to the top of the after-house, looked to windward, thento leeward at the rolling steamer, and called out:

"I want more beef at the wheel. Bigpig, take it; and you, Turkey, standby with him. Get away from there, Sinful. Give her the uppermaintopsail, the rest of you. Poop-deck, you stand by thesignal-halyards. Ask him if he's got a tow-line ready. "

Protesting angrily at the slight put upon him, Sinful Peck relinquishedthe wheel, and joined the rest on the main-deck, where they hadhurried. Two men went aloft to loose the topsail, and the rest clearedaway gear, while Poop-deck examined the signal-book. 

"K. S. G. Says, 'Have a tow-line ready. ' That ought to do, Seldom, " hecalled. 

"Run it up, " ordered the newly installed captain, "and watch hisanswer. " Up went the signal, and as the men on the main-deck weremanning the topsail-halyards, Poop-deck made out the answer: "V. K. C. "

"That means 'All right, ' Seldom, " he said, after inspecting the book. 

"Good enough; but we'll get our line ready, too. Get down and help 'emmast-head the yard first, then take 'em forrard and coil the tow-lineabaft the windlass. Get all the heavin'-lines ready, too. "

Poop-deck obeyed; and while the main-topsail-yard slowly arose to placeunder the efforts of the rest, Seldom himself ran up the answeringpennant, and then the repetition of the steamer's last message: "Allright. " This was the final signal displayed between the two craft. Bothsignal-flags were lowered, and for a half-hour Seldom waited, until theothers had lifted a nine-inch hawser from the forepeak and coiled itdown. Then came his next orders in a continuous roar:

"Three hands aft to the spanker-sheet! Stand by to slack off and haulin! Man the braces for wearing ship, the rest o' you! Hard up thewheel! Check in port main and starboard cro'-jack braces! Shiver thetopsail! Slack off that spanker!"

Before he had finished the men had reached their posts. The orders wereobeyed. The ship paid off, staggered a little in the trough under theright-angle pressure of the gale, swung still farther, and steadieddown to a long, rolling motion, dead before the wind, heading for thesteamer. Yards were squared in, the spanker hauled aft, staysailtrimmed to port, and all hands waited while the ship charged down thetwo miles of intervening sea. 

"Handles like a yacht, " muttered Seldom, as, with brow wrinkled andkeen eye flashing above his hooked nose, he conned the steering fromhis place near the mizzenmast. 

Three men separated themselves from the rest and came aft. They werethose who had walked the forward deck. One was tall, broad-shouldered, and smooth-shaven, with a palpable limp; another, short, broad, andhairy, showed a lamentable absence of front teeth; and the third, ablue-eyed man, slight and graceful of movement, carried his arm insplints and sling. This last was in the van as they climbed the poopsteps. 

"I wish to protest, " he said. "I am captain of this ship under the law. I protest against this insanity. No boat can live in this sea. No helpcan be given that steamer. "

"And I bear witness to the protest, " said the tall man. The short, hairy man might have spoken also, but had no time. 

"Get off the poop, " yelled Seldom. "Go forrard, where you belong. " Hestood close to the bucket-rack around the skylight. Seizing bucketafter bucket, he launched them at his visitors, with the result thatthe big man was tumbled down the poop steps head first, while the othertwo followed, right side up, but hurriedly, and bearing some sorespots. Then the rest of the men set upon them, much as a pack of dogswould worry strange cats, and kicked and buffeted them forward. 

There was no time for much amusement of this sort. Yards were braced toport, for the ship was careering down toward the steamer at a ten-knotrate; and soon black dots on her rail resolved into passengers wavinghats and handkerchiefs, and black dots on the boat deck resolved intosailors standing by the end of a hawser which led up from the bittsbelow on the fantail. And the ship came down, until it might haveseemed that Seldom's intention was to ram her. But not so; when a scanttwo lengths separated the two craft, he called out: "Hard down! Lightup the staysail-sheet and stand by the forebraces!"

Around the ship came on the crest of a sea; she sank into the hollowbehind, shipped a few dozen tons of water from the next comber, and thenlay fairly steady, with her bow meeting the seas, and the huge steamernot a half-length away on the lee quarter. The fore-topmast-staysail wasflattened, and Seldom closely scrutinized the drift and heave of the ship. 

"How's your wheel, Bigpig?" he asked. 

"Hard down. "

"Put it up a little; keep her in the trough. "

He noted the effect on the ship of this change; then, as thoughsatisfied, roared out: "Let your forebraces hang, forrard there! Standby heavin'-lines fore and aft! Stand by to go ahead with that steamerwhen we have your line!" The last injunction, delivered through hishands, went down the wind like a thunder-clap, and the officers on thesteamer's bridge, vainly trying to make themselves heard against thegale in the same manner, started perceptibly at the impact of sound, and one went to the engine-room speaking-tube. 

Breast to breast the two vessels lifted and fell. At times it seemedthat the ship was to be dropped bodily on the deck of the steamer; atothers, her crew looked up a streaked slope of a hundred feet to wherethe other craft was poised at the crest. Then the steamer would drop, and the next sea would heave the ship toward her. But it was noticeablethat every bound brought her nearer to the steamer, and also fartherahead, for her sails were doing their work. 

"Kick ahead on board the steamer!" thundered Seldom from his eminence. "Go ahead! Start the wagon, or say your prayers, you blasted idiots!"

The engines were already turning; but it takes time to overcome threethousand tons of inertia, and before the steamer had forged ahead sixfeet the ship had lifted above her, and descended her black side with agrinding crash of wood against iron. Fore and main channels on the shipwere carried away, leaving all lee rigging slack and useless; lowerbraces caught in the steamer's davit-cleats and snapped, but the sails, held by the weather braces, remained full, and the yards did not swing. The two craft separated with a roll and came together again with morescraping and snapping of rigging. Passengers left the rail, divedindoors, and took refuge on the opposite side, where falling blocks andsmall spars might not reach them. Another leap toward the steamerresulted in the ship's maintopgallantmast falling in a zigzag whirl, asthe snapping gear aloft impeded it; and dropping athwart the steamer'sfunnel, it neatly sent the royal-yard with sail attached down the ironcylinder, where it soon blazed and helped the artificial draft in thestoke-hold. Next came the foretopgallantmast, which smashed a couple ofboats. Then, as the round black stern of the steamer scraped the leebow of the ship, jib-guys parted, and the jib-boom itself went, snappingat the bowsprit-cap, with the last bite the ship made at the steamershe was helping. But all through this riot of destruction--whilepassengers screamed and prayed, while officers on the steamer shoutedand swore, and Seldom Helward, bellowing insanely, danced up and downon the ship's house, and the hail of wood and iron from aloft threatenedtheir heads--men were passing the tow-line. 

It was a seven-inch steel hawser with a Manila tail, which they hadtaken to the foretopsail-sheet bitts before the jib-boom had gone. Panting from their exertions, they watched it lift from the water asthe steamer ahead paid out with a taut strain; then, though thecrippled spars were in danger of falling and really needed their firstattention, they ignored the fact and hurried aft, as one man, to attendto Seldom. 

Encouraged by the objurgations of Bigpig and his assistant, who weresteering now after the steamer, they called their late commander downfrom the house and deposed him in a concert of profane ridicule andabuse, to which he replied in kind. He was struck in the face by thesmall fist of Sinful Peck, and immediately knocked the little man down. Then he was knocked down himself by a larger fist, and, fightingbravely and viciously, became the object of fist-blows and kicks, until, in one of his whirling staggers along the deck, he passed closeto the short, broad, hairy man, who yielded to the excitement of themoment and added a blow to Seldom's punishment. It was an unfortunatemistake; for he took Seldom's place, and the rain of fists and bootsdescended on him until he fell unconscious. Mr. Helward himselfdelivered the last quieting blow, and then stood over him with a luridgrin on his bleeding face. 

"Got to put down mutiny though the heavens fall, " he said painfully. 

"Right you are, Seldom, " answered one. "Here, Jackson, Benson--drag himforrard; and, Seldom, " he added, reprovingly, "don't you ever try itagain. Want to be captain, hey? You can't; you don't know enough. Youcouldn't command my wheelbarrow. Here's three days' work to clear upthe muss you've made. "

But in this they spoke more, and less, than the truth. The steamer, going slowly, and steering with a bridle from the tow-line to eachquarter, kept the ship's canvas full until her crew had steadied theyards and furled it. They would then have rigged preventer-stays andshrouds on their shaky spars, had there been time; but there was not. An uncanny appearance of the sea to leeward indicated too closeproximity to the shoals, while a blackening of the sky to windward toldof probable increase of wind and sea. And the steamer waited no longer. With a preliminary blast of her whistle, she hung the weight of theship on the starboard bridle, gave power to her engines, and roundedto, very slowly, head to sea, while the men on the ship, who had beencarrying the end of the coiled hawser up the foretopmast rigging, dropped it and came down hurriedly. 

Released from the wind-pressure on her strong side, which had somewhatsteadied her, the ship now rolled more than she had done in the trough, and with every starboard roll were ominous creakings and grindingsaloft. At last came a heavier lurch, and both crippled topmasts fell, taking with them the mizzentopgallantmast. Luckily, no one was hurt, and they disgustedly cut the wreck adrift, stayed the fore- andmainmasts with the hawser, and resigning themselves to a largesubtraction from their salvage, went to a late breakfast--a savory mealof smoking fried ham and potatoes, hot cakes and coffee served tosixteen in the cabin, and an unsavory meal of "hardtack-hash, " with aninfusion of burnt bread-crust, pease, beans, and leather, handed, butnot served, to three in the forecastle. 

Three days later, with Sandy Hook lighthouse showing through the hazeahead, and nothing left of the gale but a rolling ground-swell, thesteamer slowed down so that a pilot-boat's dinghy could put a manaboard each craft. And the one who climbed the ship's side was thepilot that had taken her to sea, outward bound, and sympathized withher crew. They surrounded him on the poop and asked for news, while thethree men forward looked aft hungrily, as though they would have joinedthe meeting, but dared not. Instead of giving news, the pilot askedquestions, which they answered. 

"I knew you'd taken charge, boys, " he said at length. "The whole worldknows it, and every man-of-war on the Pacific stations has been lookingfor you. But they're only looking out there. What brings you roundhere, dismasted, towing into New York?"

"That's where the ship's bound--New York. We took her out; we bring herhome. We don't want her--don't belong to us. We're law-abidin' men. "

"Law-abiding men?" asked the amazed pilot. 

"You bet. We're goin' to prosecute those dogs of ours forrard there tothe last limit o' the law. We'll show 'em they can't starve and hammerand shoot free-born Americans just 'cause they've got guns in theirpockets. "

The pilot looked forward, nodded to one of the three, who beckoned tohim, and asked:

"Who'd you elect captain?"

"Nobody, " they roared. "We had enough o' captains. This ship's anunlimited democracy--everybody just as good as the next man; that is, all but the dogs. They sleep on the bunk-boards, do as they're told, and eat salt mule and dunderfunk--same as we did goin' out. "

"Did they navigate for you? Did no one have charge of things?"

"Poop-deck picked up navigation, and we let him off steerin' andstandin' lookout. Then Seldom, here, he wanted to be captain just once, and we let him--well, look at our spars. "

"Poop-deck? Which is Poop-deck? Do you mean to say, " asked the pilotwhen the navigator had been indicated to him, "that you brought thisship home on picked-up navigation?"

"Didn't know anything about it when we left Callao, " answered thesailor, modestly. "The steward knew enough to wind the chronometeruntil I learned how. We made an offing and steered due south, while Istudied the books and charts. It didn't take me long to learn how totake the sun. Then we blundered round the Horn somehow, and before longI could take chronometer sights for the longitude. Of course I know wewent out in four months and used up five to get back; but a man can'tlearn the whole thing in one passage. We lost some time, too, chasingother ships and buying stores; the cabin grub gave out. "

"You bought, I suppose, with Captain Benson's money. "

"S'pose it was his. We found it in his desk. But we've kept account ofevery cent expended, and bought no grub too good for a white man toeat. "

"What dismasted you?"

They explained the meeting with the steamer and Seldom's misdoing; thenrequested information about the salvage laws. 

"Boys, " said the pilot, "I'm sorry for you. I saw the start of thisvoyage, and you appear to be decent men. You'll get no salvage; you'llget no wages. You are mutineers and pirates, with no standing in court. Any salvage which the _Almena_ has earned will be paid to her ownersand to the three men whom you deprived of command. What you canget--the maximum, though I can't say how hard the judge will lay iton--is ten years in state's prison, and a fine of two thousand dollarseach. We'll have to stop at quarantine. Take my advice: if you get achance, lower the boats and skip. "

They laughed at the advice. They were American citizens who respectedthe law. They had killed no one, robbed no one; their wages andsalvage, independently of insurance liabilities, would pay for thestores bought, and the loss of the spars. They had no fear of any courtof justice in the land; for they had only asserted their manhood andrepressed inhuman brutality. 

The pilot went forward, talked awhile with the three, and left themwith joyous faces. An hour later he pointed out the _Almena's_ numberflying from the masthead of the steamer. 

"He's telling on you, boys, " he said. "He knew you when you helped him, and used you, of course. Your reputation's pretty bad on the high seas. See that signal-station ashore there? Well, they're telegraphing nowthat the pirate _Almena_ is coming in. You'll see a police boat atquarantine. "

He was but partly right. Not only a police boat, but an outward-boundman-of-war and an incoming revenue cutter escorted the ship toquarantine, where the tow-line was cast off, and an anchor dropped. Then, in the persons of a scandalized health-officer, a naval captain, a revenue-marine lieutenant, and a purple-faced sergeant of thesteamboat squad, the power of the law was rehabilitated on the_Almena's_ quarter-deck, and the strong hand of the law closed down onher unruly crew. With blank faces, they discarded--to shirts, trousers, and boots--the slop-chest clothing which belonged to the triumphantCaptain Benson, and descended the side to the police boat, whichimmediately steamed away. Then a chuckling trio entered the ship'scabin, and ordered the steward to bring them something to eat. 

 * * * * *

Now, there is no record either in the reports for that year of thepolice department, or from any official babbling, or from later yarnsspun by the sixteen prisoners, of what really occurred on the deck ofthat steamer while she was going up the bay. Newspapers of the timegave generous space to speculations written up on the facts discoveredby reporters; but nothing was ever proved. The facts were few. A tugmet the steamer in the Narrows about a quarter to twelve that morning, and her captain, on being questioned, declared that all seemed wellwith her. The prisoners were grouped forward, guarded by eight officersand a sergeant. A little after twelve o'clock a Battery boatmanobserved her coming, and hied him around to the police dock to have alook at the murderous pirates he had heard about, only to see herheading up the North River, past the Battery. A watchman on theelevator docks at Sixty-third Street observed her charging up the rivera little later in the afternoon, wondered why, and spoke of it. Thecaptain of the _Mary Powel_, bound up, reported catching her abreast ofYonkers. He had whistled as he passed, and though no one was in sight, the salute was politely answered. At some time during the night, residents of Sing Sing were wakened by a sound of steam blowing offsomewhere on the river; and in the morning a couple of fishermen, goingout to their pond-nets in the early dawn, found the police boatgrounded on the shoals. On boarding her they had released a pinioned, gagged, and hungry captain in the pilot-house, and an engineer, fireman, and two deck-hands, similarly limited, in the lamp-room. Hearing noises from below, they pried open the nailed doors of thedining-room staircase, and liberated a purple-faced sergeant and eightfurious officers, who chased their deliverers into their skiff, andspoke sternly to the working-force. 

Among the theories advanced was one, by the editor of a paper in asmall Lake Ontario town, to the effect that it made little differenceto an Oswego sailor whether he shipped as captain, mate, engineer, sailor, or fireman, and that the officers of the New York Harbor Patrolhad only under-estimated the caliber of the men in their charge, leaving them unguarded while they went to dinner. But his paper andtown were small and far away, he could not possibly know anything ofthe subject, and his opinion obtained little credence. 

Years later, however, he attended, as guest, a meeting and dinner ofthe Shipmasters' and Pilots' Association of Cleveland, Ohio, when aresolution was adopted to petition the city for a harbor policeservice. Captain Monahan, Captain Helward, Captain Peck, and CaptainCahill, having spoken and voted in the negative, left their seats onthe adoption of the proposition, reached a clear spot on the floor, shook hands silently, and then, forming a ring, danced around in acircle (the tails of their coats standing out in horizontal rigidity)until reproved by the chair. 

And the editor knew why. 

THE BRAIN OF THE BATTLE-SHIP

Build an inverted Harvey-steel box about eight feet high, one hundredand fifty feet long, half as wide, with walls of eighteen-inchthickness, and a roof of three, and you have strong protection againstshot and shell. Build up from the ends of the box two steel barbetteswith revolving turrets as heavy as your side-walls; place in each apair of thirteen-inch rifles; flank these turrets with four others ofeight-inch wall, each holding two eight-inch guns; these again withfour smaller, containing four six-inch guns, and you have power ofoffense nearly equal to your protection. Loosely speaking, a moderngun-projectile will, at short range, pierce steel equal to itself incross-section, and from an elevated muzzle will travel as many miles asthis cross-section measures in inches. Placed upon an outlying shoal, this box with its guns would make an efficient fortress, but would lackthe advantage of being able to move and choose position. 

Build underneath and each way from the ends of the box a cellular hullto float it; place within it, and below the box, magazines, boilers, and engines; construct above, between the turrets, a lightersuperstructure to hold additional quick-fire guns and torpedo-tubes;cap the whole with a military mast supporting fighting-tops, andcontaining an armored conning-tower in its base; man and equip, provision and coal the fabric, and you can go to sea, confident of yourability to destroy everything that floats, except icebergs and otherbattle-ships. 

Of these essentials was the first-class coast-defense battle-ship_Argyll_. She was of ten thousand tons displacement, and was propelledby twin screws which received ten thousand horse-power from twinengines placed below the water-line. Three long tubes--one fixed in thestem, two movable in the superstructure--could launch Whiteheadtorpedoes, --mechanical fish carrying two hundred and twenty pounds ofguncotton in their heads, --which sought in the water a twenty-footdepth, and hurried where pointed at a thirty-knot rate of speed. Theirimpact below the water-line was deadly, and only equaled in effect bythe work of the ram-bow, the blow of the ship as a whole--the lastglorious, suicidal charge on an enemy that had dismounted the guns, ifsuch could happen. 

Besides her thirteen-, eight-, and six-inch guns, she carried asecondary quick-fire battery of twenty six-pounders, four one-pounders, and four Gatling guns distributed about the superstructure and in thefighting-tops. The peculiar efficacy of this battery lay in its menaceto threatening torpedo-boats, and its hostility to range-finders, big-gun sights, and opposing gunners. A torpedo-boat, receiving thefull attention of her quick-fire battery, could be disintegrated andsunk in a yeasty froth raised by the rain of projectiles long beforeshe could come within range of torpedo action; while a simultaneousdischarge of all guns would distribute over seven thousand pounds ofmetal with foot-tons of energy sufficient to lift the ship herself highout of water. Bristling, glistening, and massive, a reservoir of deathpotential, a center of radiant destruction, a spitting, chattering, thundering epitome of racial hatred, she bore within her steel wallsthe ever-growing burden of progressive human thought. She was a makerof history, a changer of boundaries, a friend of young governments; andit chanced that on a fine tropical morning, in company with threearmored cruisers, four protected cruisers, and a fleet of torpedo-boatsand destroyers, she went into action. 

She was stripped to bare steel and signal-halyards. Davits, anchors, and cables were stowed and secured. Ladders, gratings, stanchions, andall movable deck-fittings were below the water-line. Wooden bulkheads, productive of splinters, were knocked down and discarded, while allboats, with the plugs out, were overboard, riding to a sea-anchor madeup of oars and small spars. 

The crew was at quarters. Below, in the magazine, handling-rooms, stoke-holds, and bunkers, bare-waisted men worked and waited instifling heat; for she was under forced draft, and compartments wereclosed, even though the enemy was still five miles away. The chief andhis first assistant engineer watched the main engines in their twincompartments, while the subordinate aids and machinists attended to thedynamos, motors, and auxiliary cylinders that worked the turrets, pumps, and ammunition-hoists. All boilers were hot and hissing steam;all fire-pumps were working; all fire-hose connected and spoutingstreams of water. Perspiring men with strained faces deluged oneanother while they waited. 

In the turrets were the gun-crews, six men to a gun, with an officerabove in the sighting-hood; behind the superstructure-ports were thequick-fire men, sailors and marines; and above all, in thefighting-tops, were the sharp-shooters and men who handled theone-pounders and Gatling guns--the easiest-minded of the ship'scompany, for they could see and breathe. Each division of fighters andworkers was overseen by an officer; in some cases by two and three. 

Preparatory work was done, and, excepting the "black gang, " men werequiescent, but feverish. Few spoke, and then on frivolous things, intones that were not recognized. Occasionally a man would bring out apiece of paper and write, using for a desk a gun-breech or -carriage, aturret-wall, or the deck. An officer in a fighting-top used atelegraph-dial, and a stoker in the depths his shovel, in a chink oflight from the furnace. These letters, written in instalments, werepocketed in confidence that sometime they would be mailed. 

From the captain down each man knew that a large proportion of theirnumber was foredoomed; but not a consciousness among them could admitthe possibility of itself being chosen. The great first law forbade it. Senior officers pictured in their minds dead juniors, and thought ofextra work after the fight. Junior officers thought of vacancies abovethem and promotion. Men in the turrets bade mental good-by to theirmates in the superstructure; and these, secure in their five-inchprotection, pitied those in the fighting-tops, where, cold logic says, no man may live through a sea-fight. Yet all would have volunteered tofill vacancies aloft. The healthy human mind can postulate suffering, but not its own extinction. 

In a circular apartment in the military mast, protected by twelveinches of steel, perforated by vertical and horizontal slits forobservation, stood the captain and navigating officer, both inshirt-sleeves; for this, the conning-tower, was hot. Around the innerwalls were the nerve-terminals of the structure--the indicators, telegraph-dials, telephones, push-buttons, and speaking-tubes, whichcommunicated with gun-stations, turrets, steering-room, engine-rooms, and all parts of the ship where men were stationed. In the forward partwas a binnacle with small steering-wheel, disconnected now, for thesteering was done by men below the water-line in the stern. A spiralstaircase led to the main-deck below, and another to the firstfighting-top above, in which staircase were small platforms where asignal-officer and two quartermasters watched through slits the signalsfrom the flag-ship, and answered as directed by the captain below withsmall flags, which they mastheaded through the hollow within thestaircase. 

The chief master-at-arms, bareheaded, climbed into the conning-tower. 

"Captain Blake, what'll we do with Finnegan?" he said. "I've releasedhim from the brig as you ordered; but Mr. Clarkson won't have him inthe turret where he belongs, and no one else wants him around. Theyeven chased him out of the bunkers. He wants to work and fight, but Mr. Clarkson won't place him; says he washes his hands of Finnegan, andsent me to you. I took him to the bay, but he won't take medicine. "

Captain Blake, stern of face and kindly of eye, drew back from apeep-hole, and asked: "What's his condition?"

"Shaky, sir. Sees little spiders and big spiders crawling round hiscap-rim. Him and the recording angel knows where he gets it and wherehe keeps it, sir; but I don't. I've watched him for six months. "

"Send him to me. "

"Very good, sir. "

The master-at-arms descended, and in a few moments the unwantedFinnegan appeared--a gray-bearded, emaciated, bleary-eyed seaman, whobrushed imaginary things from his neck and arms, and stammered, as heremoved his cap: "Report for duty, sir. "

"For duty?" answered the captain, eying him sternly. "For death. Youwill be allowed the honorable death of an English seaman. You will diein the fighting-top sometime in the next three hours. "

The man shivered, elevated one shoulder, and rubbed his ear against it, but said nothing, while Mr. Dalrymple, the navigating officer, with hiseyes at a peep-hole and his ears open to the dialogue, wondered (as heand the whole ship's company had wondered before) what the realrelation was between the captain and this wretched, drunken butt of thecrew. For the captain's present attitude was a complete departure. Always he had shielded Finnegan from punishment to the extent thatnaval etiquette would permit. 

"I have tried for six years, " continued the captain, "to reform you andhold you to the manhood I once knew in you; but I give you up. You arenot fit to live, and will never be fitter to die than this morning, when the chance comes to you to die fighting for your country. But Iwant you to die fighting. Do you wish to see the surgeon or thechaplain?"

"No, no, no, cappen; one's bad as t' other. The chaplain'll pray andthe doctor'll fill me up wi' bromide, and it just makes me crazy, sir. I'm all right, cappen, if I only had a drink. Just give me a drink, cappen, --the doctor won't, --and send me down to my station, sir. I knowit's only in my head, but I see 'em plain, all round. You'll give me adrink, cappen, please; I know you'll give me a drink. "

He brushed his knees gingerly, and stepped suddenly away from anisolated speaking-tube. Captain Blake's stern face softened. His mindwent back to his midshipman days, to a stormy night and a heavy sea, anicy foot-rope, a fall, a plunge, and a cold, hopeless swim toward ashadowy ship hove to against the dark background, until this man'sface, young, strong, and cheery then, appeared behind a whitelife-buoy; and he heard again the panting voice of his rescuer: "Hereye are, Mr. Blake; boat's comin'. "

He whistled down the speaking-tube, and when answered, called: "Send anopened bottle of whisky into the conning-tower--no glasses. "

"Thankee, sir. "

The captain resumed his position at the peep-hole, and Finnegan busiedhimself with his troubles until a Japanese servant appeared with aquart bottle. The captain received it, and the Jap withdrew. 

"Help yourself, Finnegan, " said the captain, extending the bottle;"take a good drink--a last one. " Finnegan took the equivalent of three. "Now, up with you. " The captain stood the bottle under the binnacle. "Upper top. Report to Mr. Bates. "

"Cappen, please send me down to the turret where I b'long, sir. I'm allright now. I don't want to go up there wi' the sogers. I'm not good atmachine-guns. "

"No arguments. Up with you at once. You are good for nothing but towork a lever under the eye of an officer. "

Finnegan saluted silently and turned toward the stairs. 

"Finnegan!"

He turned. The captain extended his hand. "Finnegan, " he said, "I don'tforget that night, but you must go; the eternal fitness of thingsdemands it. Perhaps I'll go, too. Good-by. "

The two extremes of the ship's company shook hands, and Finneganascended. When past the quartermasters and out of hearing, he grumbledand whined: "No good, hey? Thirty years in the service, and sent uphere to think of my sins like a sick monkey. Good for nothin' but toturn a crank with the sogers. Nice job for an able seaman. What's theblasted service a-comin' to?"

The two fleets were approaching in similar formation, double column, atabout a twelve-knot speed. Leading the left column was the _Lancaster_, and following came the _Argyll_, _Beaufort_, and _Atholl_, the lasttwo, like the _Lancaster_, armored cruisers of the first class. On the_Lancaster's_ starboard bow was the flag-ship _Cumberland_, a largeunarmored cruiser, and after her came the _Marlborough_, _Montrose_, and _Sutherland_, unarmored craft like the flag-ship, equallyvulnerable to fire, the two columns making a zigzag line, with theheaviest ships to the left, nearest the enemy. 

Heading as they were, the fleets would pass about a mile apart. Ledby a black, high-sided monster, the left column of the enemy was madeup of four battle-ships of uncouth, foreign design and murderousappearance, while the right column contained the flag-ship and threeothers, all heavily armored cruisers. Flanking each fleet, far to therear, were torpedo-boats and destroyers. 

"We're outclassed, Dalrymple, " said Captain Blake. "There are the shipswe expected--_Warsaw_, _Riga_, _Kharkov_, and _Moscow_, all of fightingweight, and the _Obdorsk_, _Tobolsk_, _Saratov_, and _Orenburg_. Leaving out the _Argyll_, we haven't a ship equal to the weakest onethere. This fight is the _Argyll's_. "

"And the _Argyll_ is equal to it, captain. All I fear is torpedoes. Ofcourse our ends and superstructure will catch it, and I suppose we'lllose men--all the quick-fire men, perhaps. "

"Those in the tops surely, " said the captain. "Dalrymple, what do youthink? I don't feel right about Finnegan. He belongs in the turret, andI've sentenced him. Have I the right? I've half a mind to call himdown. " He pushed a button marked "Forward turret, " and listened at atelephone. 

"Mr. Clarkson!" he called. "I've put your man Finnegan in the uppertop; but he seems all right now. Can you use him?"

The answer came:

"No, sir; I've filled his place. "

"Die, then. On my soul be it, Finnegan, poor devil, " muttered thecaptain, gloomily. 

His foot struck the bottle under the binnacle, and, on an impulse dueto his mood, he picked it up and uncorked it. Mr. Dalrymple observedthe action and stepped toward him. 

"Captain, pardon me, " he said, "if I protest unofficially. We are goinginto action--not to dinner. "

The captain's eyes opened wide and shone brighter, while his lipcurled. He extended the bottle to the lieutenant. 

"The apologies are mine, Mr. Dalrymple, " he said. "I forgot yourpresence. Take a drink. "

The officer forced a smile to his face, and stepped back, shaking hishead. Captain Blake swallowed a generous portion of the whisky. 

"The fool!" mused the navigator, as he looked through the peep-hole. "The whole world is watching him to-day, and he turns to whisky. That'sit, dammit; that's the bond of sympathy: Blake and Finnegan, Finneganand Blake--dipsomaniacs. Lord, I never thought. I've seen him drunkerthan Finnegan, and if it wasn't for his position and obligations, he'dsee spiders, too. "

Mr. Dalrymple was not the only one on board who disapproved of "Dutchcourage" for captains. The Japanese servant, whose station was at theforward-turret ammunition-hoist, reported the service of the whisky tohis mates, and from here the news spread--as news will in a cellularhull--up to turrets and gun-rooms, through speaking-tubes andwater-tight bulkheads, down to stoke-hold, engine-rooms, andsteering-room; and long before Captain Blake had thought of taking adrink the whole ship's company was commenting, mentally and openly, andmore or less profanely, on the story that "the old man was gettingdrunk in the conning-tower. "

And another piece of news traveled as fast and as far--the whereaboutsof Finnegan. Mr. Clarkson had incidentally informed his gun-captain, who told the gun-crew; and from them the news went down the hoist andspread. Men swore louder over this; for though they did not wantFinnegan around and in the way, they did not want him to die. Strongnatures love those which may be teased; and not a heart was there butcontained a soft spot for the helpless, harmless, ever good-natured, drunk, and ridiculous Finnegan. 

The bark of an eight-inch gun was heard. Captain Blake saw, through theslits of the conning-tower, a cloud of thinning smoke drifting awayfrom the flag-ship. Stepping back, he rang up the forward turret. 

"Mr. Clarkson, " he said to the telephone when it answered him, "remember: aim for the nearest water-line, load and fire, and expect noorders after the first shot. "

Calling up the officer in the after-turret, he repeated the injunction, substituting turrets as the object of assault. He called to theofficers at the eight-inch guns that conning-towers and superstructurewere to receive their attention; to those at the six-inch guns to aimsolely at turret apertures; to ensigns and officers of marine in chargeof the quick-fire batteries to aim at all holes and men showing, towatch for torpedo-boats, and, like the others, to expect no ordersafter the first shot. Then, ringing up the round of gun-stations, oneafter another, he sang out, in a voice to be heard by all: "Fire away!"

The initial gun had been fired from the flag-ship when the leadingships of the two fleets were nearly abreast. It was followed bybroadsides from all, and the action began. The _Argyll_, rollingslightly from the recoil of her guns, smoked down the line like a thingalive, voicing her message, dealing out death and receiving it. In thisfirst round of the battle the fire of the eight opposing vessels wasdirected at her alone. Shells punctured her vulnerable parts, and, exploding inside, killed men and dismounted guns. The groans of thestricken, the crash of steel against steel, the roar of theturret-guns, the rattling chorus of quick-fire rifles, and the drummingof heavy shells against the armor and turrets made an uproarious riotof sound over which no man above the water-line could lift his voice. But there were some there, besides the dead, --men who worked throughand survived the action, --who, after the first impact of sound, did nothear it, nor anything else while they lived. They were the men who hadneglected stuffing their ears with cotton. 

A fundamental canon of naval tactics is to maintain formation. Anotheris to keep moving, at the full speed of the slowest ship, not only todisconcert the enemy's fire, but to obtain and hold the mostadvantageous position--if possible, to flank him. As these rules applyequally well to both sides, it is obvious that two fleets, passing inopposite directions, and each trying to flank the rear of the other, will eventually circle around a common center; and if the effort toimprove position dominates the effort to evade fire, this circle willnarrow until the battle becomes a mêlée. 

The two lines, a mile apart and each about a mile in length, weresquarely abreast in less than five minutes from the time of firing thefirst gun; and by now the furious bombardment of the _Argyll_ by eightships had ceased, for each one found it more profitable to deal withits vis-à-vis. But there was yet a deafening racket in the _Argyll's_conning-tower as small projectiles from the rear battle-ship abreastimpinged on its steel walls; and Captain Blake, his ears ringing, hiseyes streaming, half stunned by the noise, almost blinded andsuffocated by the smoke from his forward guns, did not know that hisship had dropped back in the line until the signal-officer descendedand shouted in his ear an order signaled from the admiral: "Move aheadto position. "

"Hang the man who invented conning-towers, " he muttered angrily. "Keepa lookout up there, Mr. Wright, " he shouted; "I can see very little. "

The officer half saluted, half nodded, and ran up the stair, whileCaptain Blake rang "full speed" to the engines. The indicators on thewall showed increased revolution, and he resumed his place at thepeep-hole. In a few moments Mr. Wright reappeared with a message fromthe flag-ship to "starboard helm; follow ship ahead. "

"All right. Watch out up there; report all you see, " he answered. Peeping out, he saw the _Lancaster_ and the _Cumberland_ sheering toport, and he moved the lever of the steering-telegraph. There was noanswering ring. "Shot away, by George, " he growled. He yelled into asupplementary voice-tube to "starboard your wheel--slowly. " This wasnot answered, and with his own hands he coupled up the steering-wheelon the binnacle and gave it a turn. It was merely a governor, whichadmitted steam to the steering-engine, and there was no resistingpressure to guide him; but a helm indicator showed him the changedposition of the rudder, and, on looking ahead, he found that sheanswered the wheel; also, on looking to starboard, he found that he hadbarely escaped collision with the _Montrose_, whose fire he had beenmasking, to the scandal of the admiral and the _Montrose's_ officers. 

A little unnerved, Captain Blake called down a seven-inch tube to anapartment in the depths, --a central station of pipes and wires, to beused as a last resort, --directing the officer on post to notify thechief engineer of the damage, and to order the quartermasters in thesteering-room to disconnect their wheel and stand by. This wasanswered, and the captain resumed his lookout, one hand on the wheel. 

"Reduces the captain of the ship to a helmsman, " he muttered. 

The navigating officer approached, indicating by gesture and expressionhis intention of relieving him, but was waved away. 

"I want the wheel myself, " shouted the captain. "Devil take aconning-tower, anyhow! Keep a lookout to port. But say, Dalrymple, sendup for Finnegan. I'll not have him killed. Get him down, if he'salive. "

Mr. Dalrymple ascended the stair to pass the word for Finnegan, but didnot come down. He had reached the signal-platform, where onequartermaster lay dead, and was transmitting the order to Mr. Wright, when a heavy shell struck the mast, above their heads and below thelower top, exploded inside, killed the three men on the platform, andhurled the upper part of the mast, with both tops full of dead men andliving, high in air. The conning-tower was filled with gas and smoke;but Captain Blake, though burned and nearly stripped of clothing by theblast of flame, was uninjured by the flying fragments of the shell. Smarting, gasping, and choking, fully aware of the complete destructionabove, his mind dwelt for an instant on the man who had once saved hislife, whom he had sentenced to death. He looked up the hollow withinthe wrecked staircase, but saw nothing. 

Mr. Clarkson, however, happened to be looking through an upperpeep-hole in the sighting-hood at this moment, and saw the upper halfof the mast lift and turn; also, dimly through the smoke, he noticed, among the dozen of men hurled from the tops, the blue-shirted figure ofone whom he knew to be Finnegan, clinging at arm's-length in mid-air toa Gatling gun, which had been torn from its fastenings. Then the smokethickened and shut out the view; but a moment later he heard therattling crash of the mast as it fell upon the superstructure beneath. 

"The whole mast's gone, boys, " he shouted to his crew--"both tops. Finnegan's done for. "

And the story of Finnegan's finish went down the hoist and through theship, everywhere received with momentary sorrow, and increasedmalediction on the drunken captain, who thought no more--and knew nomore--of a blue-jacket than to masthead him with the marines. 

The tactics of both admirals being the same, and the speed of bothfleets--that of their slowest ships--being equal, they turned, and, like two serpents pursuing each other's tails, charged around in acircle, each ship firing at the nearest or most important enemy. Thisfire was destructive. A ship a mile distant is a point-blank target formodern guns and gunners, and everything protected by less than eightinches of steel suffered. The _Argyll_ had lost her military mast andmost of her secondary guns. The flag-ship _Cumberland_, raked andriddled by nine- and eleven-inch shells, surrounded herself with steamfrom punctured boilers shortly after the signal to turn, and swungdrunkenly out of line, her boilers roaring, her heavy guns barking. Along, black thing, low down behind the wave created by its rush, dartedby her, unstruck by the shells sent by the flag-ship and the _Marlborough_. A larger thing, mouse-colored and nearly hidden by a larger wave, wascoming from the opposite direction, spitting one-pound shot at the rateof sixty a minute, but without present avail; for a spindle-shapedobject left the deck of the first when squarely abreast of the helplessflag-ship, diving beneath the surface, and the existence and positionof this object were henceforth indicated only by a line of bubbles, adarting streak of froth, traveling toward the _Cumberland_. In lessthan a minute it had reached her. The sea alongside arose in a mound, and she seemed to lean away from it; then the mound burst, and out ofit, and spouting from funnels, ventilators, and ports, came a densecloud of smoke, which mingled with the steam and hid her from view, while a dull, booming roar, barely distinguishable in the noise ofbattle, came across the water. When the cloud thinned there was nothingto be seen but heads of swimming men, who swam for a time and sank. Theflag-ship had been torpedoed. 

But the torpedo-boat followed her. Pursued by the mouse-coloreddestroyer, she circled around and headed back in the endeavor to reachher consorts; but she had not time. Little by little the avenger creptup, pounding her with small shot and shell, until, leaking from ahundred wounds, she settled beneath the surface. She had fulfilled hermission; she was designed to strike once and die. 

No armored cruiser may withstand the fire of a battle-ship. The_Lancaster_, leading the _Argyll_, received through her eight-inchwater-line belt the heavy shot and shell of the _Moscow_ and _Orenburg_. Nine- and eleven-inch shell fire, sent by Canet and Hontoria guns, makesshort work of eight-inch armor, and the doomed _Lancaster_ settled anddisappeared, her crew yelling, her screws turning, and her guns firinguntil the water swamped her. The following _Argyll_ scraped her funnelsand masts as she passed over. 

Eight hundred feet back in the line was the _Beaufort_, armored likethe _Lancaster_. Her ending was dramatic and suicidal. Drilled throughand through by the fire of the _Riga_, she fought and suffered untilthe _Lancaster_ foundered; then, with all guns out of action, but withstill intact engine-power, she left the line, not to run, but to ram. The circle was narrowing, but she had fully four minutes to steambefore she could reach the opposite side and intercept her slayer. Andin this short time she was reduced to scrap-iron by the concentratedfire of the _Warsaw_, _Riga_, and _Kharkov_. Every shot from every gunon the three battle-ships struck the unlucky cruiser; but in the faceof the storm of flame and steel she went on, exhaling through fissuresand ports smoke from bursting shells and steam from broken pipes. Half-way across, an almost solid belching upward and outward of whitesteam indicated a stricken boiler, and from now on her progress wasslow. She was visibly lower in the water and rolled heavily. Soonanother cloud arose from her, her headway decreased, and she came to astop, two hundred yards on the port bow of the onrushing _Riga_, whosecrew yelled derisively--whose quick-fire guns still punished her. 

But the yells suddenly ceased and the gunners changed their aim. Asmall thing had left the nearly submerged tube in the cruiser's stem, and the gunners were now firing at a darting line of bubbles, obliterating the target for a moment with the churning of the water, only to see the frothy streak within their range, coming on atlocomotive speed. They aimed ahead; two five-inch guns added theirclamor, and even a Hontoria turret-gun voiced its roar and sent itsmessenger. But the bubbles would not stop; they entered the bow wave ofthe battle-ship, and a second later the great floating fort separatedinto two parts, with a crackling thunder of sound and an outburst offlame and smoke which came of nothing less than an exploded magazine. The two halves rolled far to starboard, then to port, shivered, settled, turned completely over, and sank in a turmoil of burstingsteam and air-bubbles. Three minutes later the _Beaufort_ lifted herstern and dived gently after her victim, still groaning hoarsely fromher punctured iron lungs. In her death-agony she had given birth to achild more terrible than a battle-ship. 

The rear ship of the inner column, the _Atholl_, was officially anarmored cruiser, but possessed none of the attributes of the cruiserclass. She was the laggard of the fleet, and her heaviest guns were ofsix-inch caliber; but, being designed for a battle-ship, she carriedthis temporary battery behind sixteen inches of steel, and hadmaintained her integrity, taking harder blows than she could give. Withthe going down of the _Beaufort_ she took a position astern of the_Sutherland_, and the double line of battle was reduced to a singleline; for the _Argyll_ had left the column when the flag-ship sank. 

And this is why the overmatched, battered, and all but demoralizedcruisers received no more attention from the enemy; it were wiser todeal with the _Argyll_. The _Saratov_, blazing fiercely from theeffects of a well-planted shell, had drawn out of line, the better todeal with her trouble. Her place in the line and that of the sunken_Riga_ were filled by the following ships drawing ahead; but the fleetstill held to double column, and into the lane between the lines the_Argyll_ was coming at sixteen knots, breathing flame, vomitingsteel--delivering destruction and death. 

She had rounded the _Moscow's_ stern, raking her as she came, andsending armor-piercing shells through her citadel. Some exploded onimpact, some inside; all did work. An eight-inch projectile entered theafter turret-port, and silenced the gun and gun-crew forever. Beforethe _Argyll_ was abeam the _Moscow_ had ceased firing. Rolling andsmoking, her crew decimated, her guns disabled and steering-gearcarried away, she swung out of line; and the appearance in his field ofvision of several rushing waves with short smoke-stacks behind, and thesupplementary pelting his ship was now receiving from the _Marlborough_, decided her commander to lower his flag. 

On the starboard bow of the _Argyll_ was the armored cruiser _Orenburg_. Her fire, hot and true, ceased on the explosion of a large shell at herwater-line, and she swung out of the fight, silent but for the roar ofescaping steam, heeled heavily to port, and sank in ten minutes, herensigns flying to the last. Mr. Clarkson rejoiced with his gun-crew. Hehad sent the shell. 

On stormed the _Argyll_. Her next adversary was the _Kharkov_, abattle-ship nearly equal in guns and armor to herself, but notquite--by an inch. And that inch cost her the fight. With her mainturrets damaged, her superstructure, secondary guns, and torpedo-tubesshot away, she yielded to fate, and, while the _Argyll_ passed on, hauled down her ensigns at the request of a torpedo-boat. 

Ahead and to starboard was the cruiser _Tobolsk_, leaving theneighborhood as fast as her twin screws could push her. Her end was insight; in her wake were two gray destroyers, and behind, chargingacross the broken formation, was the fleet _Marlborough_. The _Argyll_ignored the _Tobolsk_; for slowing down to await her coming was theblack and high-sided _Warsaw_, the monster of the fleet, bristling withguns, somber, and ominous in her silence. 

Ahead of her, and turning to port, was the flag-ship _Obdorsk_, alsoslowed down; but she promised to be fully occupied with the _Atholl_, _Sutherland_, and _Montrose_, who had wheeled in their tracks, nolonger obliged to traverse a circle to reach an enemy. 

On rushed the _Argyll_, and when nearly up to the _Warsaw_, the lattergave steam to her engines. Breast to breast the gladiators chargedacross the sea, roaring, flaming, and smoking. A torpedo left the sideof the _Warsaw_, pointed diagonally ahead, to intercept the _Argyll_. But it was badly aimed, and the hissing bubbles passed under her stern. Before another could be discharged, the torpedo-room, located by the_Argyll's_ officers, was enlarged to the size of three by thesucceeding bombardment and the explosion of the remaining torpedoes. 

Twelve-inch armor cannot keep out thirteen-inch armor-piercing shell, and torpedoes cannot explode on board without damage to machinery, steering-gear, and vital connections. The _Warsaw_ yawed, slackenedspeed, and came to a stop, her turret-guns still speaking, but thesecondary guns silent. The _Argyll_ circled around her, sending herthirteen-, eight-, and six-inch shells into her victim with almostmuzzle energy. The two military masts of the _Warsaw_ sank, and deadmen in the fighting-tops were flung overboard. The forward turretseemed to explode; smoke and flame shot out of the ports, and its toplifted and fell. Then the _Argyll_ turned and headed straight for herside. 

There was little need of gun fire now; but the forward-turret gunsbelched once during the charge, and the more quickly handled eight- andsix-inch rifles stormed away while there was time to reload. Smoking, rolling, and barking, --ten thousand tons of inertia behind a solidsteel knife, --she pounced on her now silent enemy. There was acrunching sound, muffled and continuous. The speed of the _Argyll_seemed hardly checked. In went the ram farther and farther, until theslanting edge began cutting above the water. Then the _Warsaw_, heeledfar over by the impact, rolled back, and the knife cut upward. Thesmooth plates at the _Argyll's_ water-line wrinkled like paper, and thepile of shattered steel which had once been her forward deck andbulkheads was shaken up and adjusted to new positions; but not untilher nose was actually buried in the wound--until the _Warsaw_ was cuthalf in two--did the reversed engines begin to work. The _Argyll_backed out, exposing for a moment a hole like a cavern's mouth; thenthe stricken ship rolled heavily toward her, burying the sore, and, humming and buzzing with exhausting steam and rushing air, settledrapidly and sank, while out from ports, doors, and nearly verticalhatches came her crew, as many as could. They sprang overboard andswam, and those that reached the now stationary _Argyll_ were rescued;for a cry had gone through the latter from the central station in herdepths: "All hands on deck to save life! Bring ladders, life-buoys, andropes' ends!"

The battle was ended; for, with the ramming of the _Warsaw_, the_Obdorsk_ struck to the three ships circling around her. They hadsuffered, but the battle-ship _Argyll_ was reduced to a monitor. Hersuperstructure and the bow and stern above the water-line wereshattered to a shapeless tangle of steel. What was left of her funnelsand ventilators resembled nutmeg-graters, and she was perceptibly downby the head; for her bow leaked through its wrinkled plates, and theforward compartment below the protective deck was filled. Yet she couldstill fight in smooth water. Her box-like citadel was intact, andstanding naked out of the wreck, scarred and dented, but uninjured, were the turrets, ammunition-hoists, and conning-tower. In the latterwas the brain of the ship, that had fought her to victory and then sentthe call to her crew to save the lives of their enemies. 

Two men met on a level spot amidships and clasped hands. Both werebare-waisted and grimy, and one showed red as a lobster under thestains. He was the chief engineer. 

"We've won, Clarkson, " he said. "We've won the hottest fight thathistory can tell of--won it ourselves; but he'll get the credit. "

"And he's drunk as a lord--drunk through it all. What did he ram for?Why did he send two millions of prize-money to the bottom? O Lord! OLord! it's enough to make a man swear at his mother. We had her licked. Why did he ram?"

"Because he was drunk, that's why. He rang seven bells to me along atthe first of the muss, and then sent word through young Felton that hewanted full speed. Dammit, he already had it, every pound of it. And hegave me no signal to reverse when we struck; if it wasn't for luck anda kind Providence we'd have followed the _Warsaw_. I barely got herover. Here, Mr. Felton; you were in the central, were you not? How'dthe old man appear to be making it? Were his orders intelligible?"

A young man had joined them, hot, breathing hard, and unclothed. 

"Not always, sir; I had to ask him often to repeat, and then Isometimes got another order. He kept me busy from the first, when hesent the torpedoes overboard. "

"The torpedoes!" exclaimed Mr. Clarkson. "Did we use them? I didn'tknow it. "

"He was afraid they'd explode on board, sir, " he said. "That was justafter we took full speed. "

"And just before he got too full to be afraid of anything, " mutteredthe lieutenant. "Why don't he come out of that?" He glanced toward theconning-tower. Other officers had joined them. 

"We'll investigate, " said Mr. Clarkson. 

The door on the level of the main-deck leading into the mast was foundto be wedged fast by the blow of a projectile. Men, naked and black, sprawled about the wreckage breathing fresh air, were ordered to get upand to rig a ladder outside. They did so, and Mr. Clarkson ascended tothe ragged end of the hollow stump and looked down. Standing at thewheel, steering the drifting ship with one hand and holding an emptybottle in the other, was a man with torn clothing and bloody face. Inspite of the disfigurement Mr. Clarkson knew him. Jammed into thenarrow staircase leading below was the body of a man partly hidden by aGatling gun, the lever of which had pierced the forehead. 

"Finnegan, " yelled the officer, "how'd you get there?"

The man at the wheel lifted a bleary eye and blinked; then, unsteadilytouching his forehead, answered: "Fe' dow'-shtairs, shir. "

"Come out of that! On deck there! Take the wheel, one hand, and standby it!" Mr. Clarkson descended to the others with a serious look on hisgrimy face, and a sailor climbed the ladder and went down the mast. 

"Gentlemen, " said the first lieutenant, impressively, "we weremistaken, and we wronged Captain Blake. He is dead. He died at thebeginning. He lies under a Gatling gun in the bottom of the tower. Isaw Finnegan hanging to that gun, whirling around it, when the mastblew up. It is all plain now. Finnegan and the gun fell into the tower. Finnegan may have struck the stairs and rolled down, but the gun wentdown the hollow within and killed the captain. We have been steered andcommanded by a drunken man--but it was Finnegan. "

Finnegan scrambled painfully down the ladder. He staggered, stumbled, and fell in a heap. 

"Rise up, " said Mr. Clarkson, as they surrounded him; "rise up, DanielDrake Nelson Farragut Finnegan. You are small potatoes and few in thehill; you are shamefully drunk, and your nose bleeds; you are strickenwith Spanish mildew, and you smell vilely--but you are immortal. Youhave been a disgrace to the service, but Fate in her gentle irony hasredeemed you, permitting you, in one brief moment of your misspentlife, to save to your country the command of the seas--to guide, withyour subconscious intelligence, the finest battle-ship the science ofthe world has constructed to glorious victory, through the fiercestsea-fight the world has known. Rise up, Daniel, and see the surgeon. "

But Finnegan only snored. 

THE WIGWAG MESSAGE

As eight bells sounded, Captain Bacon and Mr. Knapp came up frombreakfast, and Mr. Hansen, the squat and square-built second mate, immediately went down. The deck was still wet from the morning washingdown, and forward the watch below were emerging from the forecastle torelieve the other half, who were coiling loosely over the top of theforward house a heavy, wet hawser used in towing out the eveningbefore. They were doing it properly, and as no present supervision wasnecessary, the first mate remained on the poop for a few moments'further conversation with the captain. 

"Poor crew, cap'n, " he said, as, picking his teeth with the end of amatch, he scanned the men forward. "It'll take me a month to lick 'eminto shape. "

To judge by his physique, a month was a generous limit for such anoperation. He was a giant, with a giant's fist and foot; red-haired andbearded, and of sinister countenance. But he was no more formidable inappearance than his captain, who was equally big, but smooth-shaven, and showing the square jaw and beetling brows of a born fighter. 

"Are the two drunks awake yet?" asked the latter. 

"Not at four o'clock, sir, " answered the mate. "Mr. Hansen couldn't get'em out. I'll soon turn 'em to. "

As he spoke, two men appeared from around the corner of the forwardhouse, and came aft. They were young men, between twenty-five andthirty, with intelligent, sun-burnt faces. One was slight of figure, with the refinement of thought and study in his features; the other, heavier of mold and muscular, though equally quick in his movements, had that in his dark eyes which said plainly that he was wont tosupplement the work of his hands with the work of his brain. Both weredressed in the tar-stained and grimy rags of the merchant sailor atsea; and they walked the wet and unsteady deck with no absence of"sea-legs, " climbed the poop steps to leeward, as was proper, andapproached the captain and first mate at the weather rail. The heavierman touched his cap, but the other merely inclined his head, andsmiling frankly and fearlessly from one face to the other, said, in apleasant, evenly modulated voice:

"Good morning. I presume that one of you is the captain. "

"I'm the captain. What do you want?" was the gruff response. 

"Captain, I believe that the etiquette of the merchant service requiresthat when a man is shanghaied on board an outward-bound ship he remainssilent, does what is told him cheerfully, and submits to fate until thepassage ends; but we cannot bring ourselves to do so. We were struckdown in a dark spot last night, --sandbagged, I should say, --and we donot know what happened afterward, though we must have been keptunconscious with chloroform or some such drug. We wakened this morningin your forecastle, dressed in these clothes, and robbed of everythingwe had with us. "

"Where were you slugged?"

"In Cherry Street. The bridge cars were not running, so we crossed fromBrooklyn by the Catherine Ferry, and foolishly took a short cut to theelevated station. "

"Well, what of it?"

"What--why--why, captain, that you will kindly put us aboard the firstinbound craft we meet. "

"Not much I won't, " answered the captain, decidedly. "You belong to mycrew. I paid for twenty men; and you two and two others skipped at thedock. I had to wait all day in the Horseshoe. You two were caught deaddrunk last night, and came down with the tug. That's what the runnerssaid, and that's all I know about it. Go forrard. "

"Do you mean, captain----"

"Go forrard where you belong. Mr. Knapp, set these men to work. "

Captain Bacon turned his back on them, and walked away. 

"Get off the poop, " snarled the mate. "Forrard wi' you both!"

"Captain, I advise you to reconsider----"

The words were stopped by a blow of the mate's fist, and the speakerfell to the deck. Then a hoarse growl of horror and rage came from hiscompanion; and Captain Bacon turned, to see him dancing around thefirst officer with the skill and agility of a professional boxer, planting vicious blows on his hairy face and neck. 

"Stop this, " roared the captain, as his right hand sought the pocket ofhis coat. "Stop it, I say. Mr. Hansen, " he called down the skylight, "on deck, here. "

The huge mate was getting the worst of the unexpected battle, andCaptain Bacon approached cautiously. His right hand had come out of hispocket, armed with large brass knuckles; but before he could use themhis dazed and astonished first officer went down under the rain ofblows. It was then, while the victor waited for him to rise, that thebrass knuckles impacted on his head, and he, too, went down, to liequiet where he fell. The other young man had arisen by this time, somewhat shocked and unsteady in movement, and was coming bravelytoward the captain; but before he could reach him his arms werepinioned from behind by Mr. Hansen, who had run up the poop steps. 

"What is dis, onnyway?" he asked. "Mudiny, I dink?"

"Let go, " said the other, furiously. "You shall suffer for this, youscoundrels. Let go of my arms. " He struggled wildly; but Mr. Hansen wasstrong. 

Mr. Knapp had regained his feet and a few of his faculties. Hisconqueror was senseless on the deck, but this other mutineer was stillactive in rebellion. So, while the approving captain looked on inbrass-knuckled dignity, he sprang forward and struck, with strengthborn of his rage and humiliation, again and again at the man helplessin the arms of Mr. Hansen, until his battered head sank supinelybackward, and he struggled no more. Then Mr. Hansen dropped him. 

"Lay aft, here, a couple o' hands, " thundered the captain from thebreak of the poop, and two awe-struck men obeyed him. The whole crewhad watched the fracas from forward, and the man at the wheel hadlooked unspeakable things; but no hand or voice had been raised inprotest. One at a time they carried the unconscious men to theforecastle; then the crew mustered aft at another thundering summons, and listened to a forceful speech by Captain Bacon, delivered in quick, incisive epigrams, to the effect that if a man aboard his ship--whetherhe believed himself shipped or shanghaied, a sailor, a priest, apoliceman, or a dry-nurse--showed the slightest hesitation at obeyingorders, or the slightest resentment at what was said to him, he wouldbe punished with fists, brass knuckles, belaying-pins, orhandspikes, --the officers were here for that purpose, --and if hepersisted, he would be shot like a mad dog. They could go forward. 

They went, and while the watch on deck, under the supervision of thesecond mate, finished coiling down the tow-line, the watch belowfinished their breakfast, and when the stricken ones had recoveredconsciousness, advised them, unsympathetically, to submit and make thebest of it until the ship reached Hong-Kong, where they could all "jumpher" and get better berths. 

"For if ye don't, " concluded an Irishman, "I take it ye'll die, an'take sam wan of us wid ye; fur this is an American ship, where themates are hired fur the bigness o' their fists an' the hardness o'their hearts. Look pleasant, now, the pair o' ye; an' wan o' ye takethis hash-kid back to the galley. "

The larger of the two victims sprang to his feet. He was stained anddisfigured from the effects of the brass knuckles, and he lookedanything but "pleasant. "

"Say, Irish, " he said angrily, "do you know who you 're talkin' to?Looks as though you don't. I'm used to all sorts of guff from all sortsof men, but Mr. Breen here----"

"Johnson, " interrupted the other, "wait--it's of no account now. Thisman's advice is sound. No one would believe us, and we can provenothing. We are thoroughly helpless, and must submit until we reach aconsular port, or something happens. Now, men, " he said to the others, "my name is Breen. Call me by it. You, too, Johnson. I yield to theinevitable, and will do my share of the work as well as I can. If Imake mistakes, don't hesitate to criticize, and post me, if you will. I'll be grateful. "

"But I'll tell you one thing to start with, " said Johnson, glaringaround the forecastle: "we'll take turns at bringin' grub and cleanin'up the forecastle. Another thing: I've sailed in these wind-jammersenough to know my work; and that's more than you fellows know, by thelooks of you. I don't want your instructions; but Mr. Breen, here--Breen, I mean" (a gesture from the other had interruptedhim)--"Breen's forgotten what you and I will never learn, though hemight not be used to pullin' ropes and swabbing paint-work. If I findone o' you pesterin' him, or puttin' up any jobs, I'll break that man'shead; understand me? Any one want to put this thing to the test, now?"He scanned each man's face in turn; but none showed an inclination torespond. They had seen him fight the big first mate. "There's not themakin' of a whole man among you, " he resumed. "You stand still whilethree men do up two, when, if you had any nerve, Mr. ---- Breen, here, might be aft, 'stead o' eatin' cracker-hash with a lot o' dock-rats andbeach-combers. He's had better playmates; so 've I, for that matter, o'late years. "

"Johnson, keep still, " said the other. "It doesn't matter what we havehad, who we were or might be. We're before the mast, bound forHong-Kong. We may find a consul at Anjer; I'm not sure. Meanwhile, I'mBreen, and you are Johnson, and it is no one's business what we havebeen. I'm not anxious for this matter to become public. I can explainto the department, and no one else need know. "

"Very good, sir. "

"No; not 'sir. ' Keep that for our superiors. "

Johnson grumbled a little; then Mr. Hansen's round Swedish faceappeared at the door. 

"Hi, you in dere--you big feller--you come out. You belong in der utterwatch. You hear? You come out on deck, " he called. 

"Aye, aye, sir, " said Johnson, rising sullenly. 

"All the better, Johnson, " whispered Breen. "One can keep a lookout allthe time. Keep your eyes open and your mouth shut. "

So for these two men the work of the voyage began. The hard-headed, aggressive Johnson, placed in the mate's watch, had no trouble infinding his place, and keeping it, at the top of the class. He ruledthe assorted types of all nations, who worked and slept with him, withsound logic backed by a strong arm and hard fist, never trying toconceal his contempt for them. 

"You mixed nest o' mongrels, " he would say, at the end of some pettysquabble which he had settled for them, "why don't you stay in your owncountry ships? Or, if you must sign in American craft, try to feel andact like Americans. It's just this same yawping at one another in theforecastles that makes it easy for the buckoes aft to hunt you. Andthat's why you get your berths. No skipper 'll ship an American sailorwhile there's a Dutchman left in the shippin'-office. He wouldn't thinkit safe to go to sea with too many American sailors forward to call himdown and make him treat 'em decent. He picks a Dago here, and aDutchman there, and all the Sou'wegians he sees, and fills in with therakin's and scrapin's o' Hell, Bedlam, and Newgate, knowin' they'llhate one another worse than they hate him, and never stand together. "

To which they would respond in kind, though of lesser degree, alwaysyielding him the last word when he spoke it loud enough. 

But Breen, in the second mate's watch, had trouble with his fellows atfirst. They could not understand his quiet, gentlemanly demeanor, mistaking it for fear of them; so, unknown to Johnson, for he would notcomplain, they subjected him to all the petty annoyances whichignorance may inflict upon intelligence. Though he showed a theoreticalknowledge of ships and the sea superior to any they had met with, hewas not their equal in the practical work of a sailor. He was awkwardat pulling ropes with others, placing his hands in the wrong place andmixing them up in what must be a concerted pull to be effective. Hishands, unused to labor, became blistered and sore, and he often, unconsciously perhaps, held back from a task, to save himself frompain. He was an indifferent helmsman, and off Hatteras, in a blow, wassent from the wheel in disgrace. He did not know the ropes, and madesad mistakes until he had mastered the lesson. He could box thecompass, in his own way; for instance, the quarter-points betweennorth-northeast and northeast by north he persisted in naming from thefirst of these points instead of from the other, as was seamanlike andproper; and the same with the corresponding sectors in the otherquadrants. Once, at the wheel, when the ship was heading southeast bysouth half-south, he had been asked the course, and answered:"South-southeast half-east, sir. " For this he was profanely admonishedby the captain and ridiculed by the men. Johnson had made the samemistake, but corrected himself in time, and nothing was said about it;but Breen was bullied and badgered in the watch below, --the lubberlynomenclature becoming a byword of derision and contempt, --until, patience leaving him, he doubled his sore fingers into fists onedog-watch, and thrashed the Irishman--his most unforgiving critic--soquickly, thoroughly, and scientifically that persecution ceased; forthe Irishman had been the master spirit of the port forecastle. 

But the captain and mates were not won over. Practical Johnson--an ableseaman from crown to toe--knew how to avoid or forestall their abuse;but Breen did not. The very presence of such a man as he before themast was a continuous menace, --an insult to their artificialsuperiority, --and they assailed him at each mistake with volleys ofbillingsgate that brought a flush to his fine face and tears to hiseyes; later, a deadly paleness that would have been a warning totyrants of better discrimination. Once again, while being rebuked inthis manner, his self-control left him. With white face and blazingeyes he darted at Mr. Knapp, and had almost repeated Johnson's feat onthe poop when an iron belaying-pin in the hands of the captaindescended upon him and broke his left arm. Mr. Knapp's fists and bootscompleted his tutelage, and he was carried to his bunk with anotherlesson learned. Johnson, swearing the while, skilfully set the brokenbones and made a sling; then, by tactful wheedling of the steward, secured certain necessaries from the medicine-chest, with hot waterfrom the galley; but open assistance was refused by the captain. 

Breen, scarcely able to move, held to his bunk for a few days; then, the first mild skirts of the trade-wind being reached, the mate drovehim to the wheel, to steer one-handed through the day, while all hands(in the afternoon) worked in the rigging. But the trade-wind freshened, and his strength was not equal to the task set for it. With the men allaloft and the two mates forward, the ship nearly broached to one day, and only the opportune arrival of Captain Bacon on deck saved thespars. He seized the wheel, ground it up, and the ship paid off; then awhole man was called to relieve him, and the incompetent helmsman waspromptly and properly punished. He was kicked off the poop, and hisarm, as a consequence, needed resetting. 

Johnson had been aloft, but there was murder in his dark eyes when hecame down at supper-time. Yet he knew its futility, and while bandagingthe broken arm earnestly explained, as Breen's groans would allow, thatif he killed one the other two would kill him, and nothing would begained. "For they've brass knuckles in their pockets, sir, " he said, "and pistols under their pillows. We haven't even sheath-knives, andthe crew wouldn't help. "

Whereupon, an inspired Russian Finn of the watch remarked: "If a manknow his work an' do his work, an' gif no back lip to te mates, he getno trupple mit te mates. In my country ships----" The dissertation wasnot finished. Johnson silently knocked him down, and the incidentclosed. 

But they found work which the crippled man could do, after a short"lying up. " With the steward's washboard, he could wash the captain'ssoiled linen, which the steward would afterward wring out and hang up. He refused at first, but was duly persuaded, and went to work in thelee scuppers amidships. Johnson made a detour on his way to themain-rigging, and muttered: "Say the word, sir, and I 'll chance it. Nojury'd convict. "

"No, no; go aloft, Johnson. I'm all right, " answered Breen, as he bentover the distasteful task. 

Johnson climbed the rigging to the main-royalyard, which he was toscrape for reoiling, and had no sooner reached it than he sang out:

"Sail oh! Dead ahead, sir. Looks like an armored cruiser o' the firstclass. "

"Armored cruiser o' the first class?" muttered the captain, as hecarried his binoculars to the weather rail and looked ahead. "More 'n Ican make out with the glasses. "

If three funnels, two masts, two bridges, and two sets of fighting-topsindicate an armored cruiser of the first class, Johnson was right. These the oncoming craft showed plainly even at seven miles' distance. Fifteen minutes later she was storming by, a half-mile to windward; abeautiful picture, long and white, with an incurving ram-bow, withbuff-colored turrets and superstructure, and black guns bristling fromall parts of her. The Stars and Stripes flew from the flagstaff at thestern; white-clad men swarmed about her decks, and one of them, on theforward bridge, close to a group of officers, was waving by its staff asmall red-and-white flag. Captain Bacon brought out the Americanensign, and with his own hands hoisted it to the monkey-gaff on themizzen, dipped it three times in respectful salute, and left it at thegaff-end. Then he looked at the cruiser, as every man on board wasdoing except the man washing clothes in the lee scuppers. His businesswas to wash clothes, not to cross a broad deck and climb a high rail tolook at passing craft; but, as he washed away, he looked furtivelyaloft, with eyes that sparkled, at the man on the mainroyalyard. Johnson was standing erect on the small spar, holding on with his lefthand to the royal-pole, --certainly the most conspicuous detail of thewhole ship to the eyes of those on board the cruiser, --and with hisright hand he was waving his cap to the right and left, and up anddown. There was method in his motions, for when he would cease, thesmall red-and-white flag on the cruiser's bridge would answer, wavingto the right and left, and up and down. 

A secondary gun spoke from a midship sponson, and Captain Baconexclaimed enthusiastically, "Salutin' the flag, " and again dipped hisensign. Then, after an interval, during which it became apparent thatthe cruiser had altered her course to cross the ship's stern, there wasseen another tongue of flame and cloud of smoke, and something seemedto rush through the air ahead of the ship. But it was a splash of waterfar off on the lee bow which really apprised them that the gun wasshotted. At the same time a string of small flags arose to thesignal-yard, and when Captain Bacon had found this combination in hiscode-book, he read with amazement: "Heave to or take the consequences. "By this time the cruiser was squarely across his wake, most certainlyrounding to for an interview. 

"Heave to or take the consequences!" he exclaimed. "And he's firin' onus. Down from aloft, all hands!" he roared upward; then he seized theanswering pennant from the flag-locker and displayed it from the rail, begrudging the time needful to hoist it. The men were sliding to thedeck on backstays and running-gear, and the mates were throwing downcoils of rope from the belaying-pins. 

"Man both main clue-garnets, some o' you!" yelled the captain. "Clueup! Weather main-braces, the rest o' you! Slack away to looward! Roundwi' the yards, you farmers--round wi' 'em! Down wi' the wheel, there!Bring her up three points and hold her. H----l an' blazes, what's hefirin' on me for?"

Excitedly, the men obeyed him; they were not used to gun fire, and itis certainly exciting to be shot at. Conspicuous among them wasJohnson, who pulled and hauled lustily, shouting exuberantly theformless calls which sailors use in pulling ropes, and smilingsardonically. In five minutes from the time of the second gun the yardswere backed, and, with weather leeches trembling, the ship lay "hoveto, " drifting bodily to leeward. The cruiser had stopped her headway, and a boat had left her side. There were ten men at the oars, acockswain at the yoke-ropes, and with him in the stern-sheets a youngman in an ensign's uniform, who lifted his voice as the boat neared thelee quarter, and shouted: "Rig a side-ladder aboard that ship!"

He was hardly more than a boy, but he was obeyed; not only theside-ladder, but the gangway steps were rigged; and leaving thecockswain and bow oarsman to care for the boat, the young officerclimbed aboard, followed by the rest--nine muscular man-of-war's-men, each armed with cutlass and pistol, one of them carrying a hand-bag, another a bundle. Captain Bacon, as became his position, remained uponthe poop to receive his visitor, while the two mates stood at the mainfife-rail, and the ship's crew clustered forward. Johnson, alert andattentive, stood a little in the van, and the man in the lee scuppersstill washed clothes. 

"What's the matter, young man?" asked the captain from the break of thepoop, with as much of dignity as his recent agitation would permit. "Why do you stop my ship on the high seas and board her with an armedboat's crew?"

"You have an officer and seaman of the navy on board this ship, "answered the ensign, who had been looking about irresolutely. "Producethem at once, if you please. "

"What--what----" stuttered the captain, descending the poop steps; butbefore more was said there was a sound from forward as of somethinghard striking something heavy, and as they looked, they saw CaptainBacon's bucket of clothes sailing diagonally over the lee rail, scattering a fountain of soapy water as it whirled; his late laundrymancoming toward them with head erect, as though he might have owned theship and himself; and Johnson, limping slightly, making for the crowdof blue-jackets at the gangway. With these he fraternized at once, telling them things in a low voice, and somewhat profanely, while thetwo mates at the fife-rail eyed him reprovingly, but did not interrupt. 

Breen advanced to the ensign, and said, as he extended his hand: "I amLieutenant Breen. Did you bring the clothing? This is an extremelyfortunate meeting for me; but I can thank you--you and your brotherofficers--much more gracefully aboard the cruiser. "

The officer took the extended hand gingerly, with suspicion in hiseyes. Perhaps, if it had not been thoroughly clean from its latefriction with soap and water, he might have declined taking it; forthere was nothing in the appearance of the haggard, ragged wreck beforehim to indicate the naval officer. 

"There is some mistake, " he said coldly. "I am well acquainted withLieutenant Breen, and you are certainly not he. "

Breen's face flushed hotly, but before he could reply, the captainbroke in. 

"Some mistake, hey?" said he, derisively. "I guess there is--anothermistake--another bluff that don't go. Get out o' here; and I tell younow, blast yer hide, that if you make me any more trouble 'board myship yer liable to go over the side feet first, with a shackle to yerheels. And you, young man, " he stormed, turning to the ensign, "youlook round, if you like. There's my crew. All the navy officers youfind you can have, and welcome to 'em. " He turned his back, stamped afew paces along the deck, and returned, working himself into a fury. 

Breen had not moved, but, with a slight sparkle to his eyes, said tothe young officer:

"I think, sir, that if you take the trouble to investigate, you will besatisfied. There are two Breens in the navy. You know one, evidently; Iam the other. Lieutenant William Breen is on shore duty at Washington, I think. Lieutenant John Breen, lately in command of the torpedo-boat_Wainwright_, with his signalman Thomas Johnson, are shanghaied onboard this ship. There is Johnson talking to your men. "

The young man's face changed, and his hand went to his cap in salute;but the mischief was done. Captain Bacon's indignation was atbursting-pressure, and his mind in no condition to respond readily tonew impressions. He was captain of the ship, and grossly affronted. Johnson, noting his purple face, wisely reached for a topsail-bracebelaying-pin, and stepped toward him; for he now towered over Breen, cursing with volcanic energy. 

"Didn't I tell you to go forrard?" he roared, drawing back his powerfulfist. 

Breen stood his ground; the officer raised his hand and half drew hissword, while the blue-jackets sprang forward; but it was Johnson'sbelaying-pin which stopped that mighty fist in mid-passage. It was aniron club, eighteen inches long by an inch and a half diameter; andJohnson, strong man though he was, used it two-handed. It struck thebrawny forearm just above the wrist with a crashing sound, and seemedto sink in. Captain Bacon almost fell, but recovered his balance, and, holding the broken bones together, staggered toward the booby-hatch forsupport. He groaned in pain, but did not curse; for it requires amodicum of self-respect for this, and Captain Bacon's self-respect wascompletely shocked out of him. 

But Mr. Knapp and Mr. Hansen still respected themselves, and werecoming. 

"You keep back, there--you two, " yelled Johnson, excitedly. "Stand byhere, mates. These buckoes 'll kill someone yet. Look out for theirbrass knuckles and guns. "

And the two officers halted. They had no desire to assert themselvesbefore nine scowling, armed men, an angry and aggressive mutineer witha belaying-pin, and a rather confused, but wakening, young officer withdrawn sword. Johnson backed toward the latter. 

"Don't you know me, Mr. Bronson, " he said--"Tom Johnson, cocks'n o' thegig on your practice-cruise? 'Member me, sir? This is LieutenantBreen--take my word, sir. "

"Yes--yes--I understand, " said the ensign, with a face redder thanBreen's had been. "I really beg your pardon, Mr. Breen. It wasinexcusable in me, I know--but--I had expected to see a different face, and--and--we're three months out from Hong-Kong, you see----"

Breen smiled, and interrupted with a gesture. 

"No time for explanations, Mr. Bronson, " said he, kindly. "Did youbring the clothes? Thoughtful of Johnson to ask for them, wasn't it? Itreally would be embarrassing to join your ship in this rig. In the gripand bundle? All right. Form your men across the deck, please, forwardof the cabin. Keep these brutes away from us while we change. Come, Johnson. "

Taking the hand-bag and the bundle, they brazenly entered the cabin bythe forward door. In ten minutes they emerged, Johnson clad in the bluerig of a man-of-war's-man, Breen in the undress uniform of an officer, his crippled arm buttoned into the coat. As they stepped toward thegangway, Captain Bacon, pale and perspiring, wheezing painfully, entered the cabin and passed out of their lives. The steward followedat his heels, and the two mates, with curiously working faces, approached Breen. 

"Excuse me, sir, " said Mr. Knapp, "but I want to say that I had nonotion o' this at all; and I hope you won't make no trouble for meashore. "

Breen, one foot on the steps while he waited for the blue-jackets tofile over the side, eyed him thoughtfully. 

"No, " he said slowly. "I hardly think, Mr. Knapp, that I shall exertmyself to make trouble for you personally, or for the other two. Thereis a measure now before Congress which, if it passes, will legislatebrutes like you and your captain off the American quarter-deck by itseducational conditions. This, with a consideration for your owners, iswhat permits you to continue this voyage, instead of going back to theUnited States in irons. But if I had the power, " he added, looking atthe beautiful flag still flying at the gaff, "I would lower thatensign, and forbid you to hoist it. It is the flag of a free country, and should not float over slave-ships. "

He mounted the steps, and, assisted by the young officer and Johnson, descended to the boat; but before Johnson went down, he peered over therail at the two mates, grinning luridly. 

"And I'll promise you, " he said, "that I'm always willing to maketrouble for you, ashore or afloat, and wish I had a little more timefor it now. And you can tell your skipper, if you like, in case hedon't know it, that he got smashed with the same club that he used onMr. Breen, and I'm only d----d sorry I didn't bring it down on hishead. So long, you bloody-minded hell-drivers. See you again some day. "

He descended, and Mr. Knapp gave the order to brace the yards. 

"Give a good deal, " he mused, as the men manned the braces, "to knowjust how they got news to that cruiser. Homeward bound fromHong-Kong--three months out. Couldn't ha' been sent after us. "

But he never learned. 

THE TRADE-WIND

The orgy was finished. The last sea-song had resounded over the smoothwaters of the bay; the last drunken shout, oath, and challenge werevoiced; the last fight ended in helplessness and maudlin amity, and thered-shirted men were sprawled around on the moonlit deck, snoring. Though the barrel of rum broached on the main-hatch was but slightlylowered, their sleep was heavy; scurvy-tainted men at the end of a CapeHorn passage may not drink long or deeply. Some lay as they fell--faceupward; others on their sides for a while, then to roll over on theirbacks and so remain until the sleep was done; for in no other positionmay the human body rest easy on a hard bed with no pillow. And as theyslept through the tropic night the full moon in the east rose higherand higher, passed overhead and disappeared behind a thickening haze inthe western sky; but before it had crossed the meridian its cold, chemical rays had worked disastrously on the eyes of the sleeping men. 

Captain Swarth, prone upon the poop-deck, was the first to waken. Therewas pain in his head, pain in his eyes, --which were swollen, --and awhistling tumult of sound in his ears coming from the Plutoniandarkness surrounding him, while a jarring vibration of the deck beneathhim apprised his awakening brain that the anchor was dragging. As hestaggered to his feet a violent pressure of wind hurled him against thewheel, to which he clung, staring into the blackness to windward. 

"All hands, there!" he roared! "Up with you all! Go forward and pay outon the chain!"

Shouts, oaths, and growls answered him, and he heard the nasal voice ofhis mate repeating his order. "Angel, " he called, "get the other anchorover and give her all of both chains. "

"Aye, aye, sir, " answered the mate. "Send a lantern forrard, Bill. Can't see our noses. "

"Steward, " yelled the captain, "where are you? Light up a deck-lanternand the binnacle. Bear a hand. "

He heard the steward's voice close to him, and the sound of thebinnacle lights being removed from their places, then the opening andclosing of the cabin companionway. He could see nothing, but knew thatthe steward had gone below to his store-room. In a minute more a shriekcame from the cabin. It rang out again and again, and soon sounded fromthe companionway: "I'm blind, I'm blind, capt'n. I can't see. I lit thelantern and burned my fingers; but I can't see the light. I'm blind. "The steward's voice ended in a howl. 

"Shut up, you blasted fool, " answered Captain Swarth; "get down thereand light up. "

"Where's that light?" came the mate's voice in a yell from amidships. "Shank-painter's jammed, Bill. Can't do a thing without a light. "

"Come aft here and get it. Steward's drunk. "

The doors in the forward part of the cabin slammed, and the mate'sprofanity mingled with the protest of the steward in the cabin. Thenshouts came from forward, borne on the gale, and soon followed by theshuffling of feet as the men groped their way aft and climbed the poopsteps. 

"We're stone-blind, cappen, " they wailed. "We lit the fo'c'sle lamp, an' it don't show up. We can't see it. Nobody can see it. We're allblind. "

"Come down here, Bill, " called the mate from below. 

As Captain Swarth felt his way down the stairs a sudden shock stilledthe vibrations caused by the dragging anchor, and he knew that thechain had parted. 

"Stand by on deck, Angel; we're adrift, " he said. "It's darker than tenthousand black cats. What's the matter with you?"

"Can you see the light, Bill? I can't. I'm blind as the steward, or I'mdrunker. "

"No. Is it lit? Where? The men say they're blind, too. "

"Here, forrard end o' the table. "

The captain reached this end, searched with his hands, and burned themon the hot glass of a lantern. He removed the bowl and singed the hairon his wrists. The smell came to his nostrils. 

"I'm blind, too, " he groaned. "Angel, it's the moon. We'remoonstruck--moon-blind. And we're adrift in a squall. Steward, " he saidas he made his way toward the stairs, "light the binnacle, and stopthat whining. Maybe some one can see a little. "

When he reached the deck he called to the men, growling, cursing, andcomplaining on the poop. "Down below with you all!" he ordered. "Passthrough and out the forrard door. If any man sees the light on thecabin table, let that man sing out. "

They obeyed him. Twenty men passed through the cabin and again climbedthe poop stairs, their lamentations still troubling the night. But notone had seen the lantern. Some said that they could not open their eyesat all; some complained that their faces were swollen; others thattheir mouths were twisted up to where their ears should be; and one manaverred that he could not breathe through his nose. 

"It'll only last a few days, boys, " said the captain, bravely; "weshouldn't have slept in the moonlight in these latitudes. Drop the leadover, one of you--weather side. The devil knows where we're drifting, and the small anchor won't hold now; we'll save it. " Captain Swarth washimself again. 

But not so his men. They had become children, with children's fear ofthe dark. Even the doughty Angel Todd was oppressed by the first horrorof the situation, speaking only when spoken to. Above the rushing soundof wind and the smacking of short seas could be heard the voice of thesteward in the cabin, while an occasional heart-borne malediction orgroan--according to temperament--added to the distraction on deck. Oneman, more self-possessed than the rest, had dropped the lead over theside. An able seaman needs no eyes to heave the lead. 

"A quarter six, " he sang out, and then, plaintively: "We'll fetch up onthe Barrier, capt'n. S'pose we try an' get the other hook over. "

"Yes, yes, " chorused some of the braver spirits. "It may hold. We don'twant to drown on the reef. Let's get it over. Chain's overhauled. "

"Let the anchor alone, " roared the captain. "No anchor-chain'll hold inthis. Keep that lead a-going, Tom Plate, if it's you. What bottom doyou find?"

"Quarter less six, " called the leadsman. "Soft bottom. We're shoaling. "

"Angel, " said the captain to his mate, who stood close to him, "we'reblowing out the south channel. We've been drifting long enough to fetchup on the reef if it was in our way. There's hard bottom in the northchannel, and the twenty-fathom lead wouldn't reach it half a lengthfrom the rocks. "

The mate had nothing to say. 

"And the south channel lay due southeast from our moorings, " continuedthe captain. "Wind's nor'west, I should say, right down from thehilltops; and I've known these blasted West India squalls to last threedays, blowing straight and hard. This has the smell of a gale in italready. Keep that lead a-going, there. "

"No bottom, " answered the leadsman. 

"Good enough, " said the captain, cheerfully. 

"No bottom, " was called repeatedly, until the captain sang out:"That'll do the lead. " Then the leadsman coiled up the line, and theyheard his rasping, unpleasant voice, cursing softly but fiercely tohimself. Captain Swarth descended the stairs, silenced the steward witha blow, felt of the clock hands, secured his pistols, and returned tothe deck. 

"We're at sea, " he said. "Two hands to the wheel. Loose and set theforetopmast-staysails and the foretopsail. Staysail first. Let a manstay in the slings to square the yard by the feel as it goes up. "

"What for?" they answered complainingly. "What ye goin' to do? We can'tsee. Why didn't you bring to when you had bottom under you?"

"No arguments!" yelled Swarth. "Forrard with you. What are you doing onthe poop, anyway? If you can't see, you can feel, and what more do youwant? Jump, now. Set that head-sail and get her 'fore the wind--quick, or I'll drop some of you. "

They knew their captain, and they knew the ropes--on the blackest ofdark nights. Blind men climbed aloft, and felt for foot-ropes andgaskets. Blind men on deck felt for sheets, halyards, and braces, andin ten minutes the sails were set, and the brig was charging wildlyalong before the gale, with two blind men at the wheel endeavoring tokeep her straight by the right and left pressure of the wind on theirfaces. 

"Keep the wind as much on the port quarter as you can without broachingto, " yelled the captain in their ears, and they answered and did theirbest. She was a clean-lined craft and steered easily; yet the off-shoresea which was rising often threw her around until nearly in the trough. The captain remained by them, advising and encouraging. 

"Where're ye goin', Bill?" asked the mate, weakly, as he scrambled upto him. 

"Right out to sea, and, unless we get our eyes back soon, right acrossto the Bight of Benin, three thousand miles from here. We've nobusiness on this coast in this condition. What ails you, Angel? Lostyour nerve?"

"Mebbe, Bill. " The mate's voice was hoarse and strained. "This is newto me. I'm falling--falling--all the time. "

"So am I. Brace up. We'll get used to it. Get a couple of hands aft andheave the log. We take our departure from Kittredge Point, BarbadosIsland, at six o'clock this morning of the 10th October. We'll keep aGeordie's log-book--with a jack-knife and a stick. "

They hove the log for him. It was marked for a now useless 28-secondsand-glass, which Captain Swarth replaced by a spare chronometer, heldto his ear in the companionway. It ticked even seconds, and whentwenty-eight of them had passed he called, "Stop. " The markings on theline that had slipped through the mate's fingers indicated aneight-knot speed. 

"Seven, allowing for wild steering, " said the captain when he hadstowed away his chronometer and returned to the deck. "Angel, we knowwe're going about sou'east by east, seven knots. There's practicallyno variation o' the compass in these seas, and that course'll take usclear of Cape St. Roque. Just as fast as the men can stand it at thewheel, we'll pile on canvas and get all we can out o' this good wind. If it takes us into the southeast trades, well and good. We can feelour way across on the trade-wind--unless we hit something, of course. You see, it blows almost out of the east on this side, and 'll haulmore to the sou'east and south'ard as we get over. By the wind first, then we'll square away as we need to. We'll know the smell o' thetrades--nothing like it on earth--and the smell o' the Gold Coast, Ivory Coast, Slave Coast, and the Kameruns. And I'll lay odds we canfeel the heat o' the sun in the east and west enough to make a fairguess at the course. But it won't come to that. Some of us 'll be ableto see pretty soon. "

It was wild talk, but the demoralized mate needed encouraging. Heanswered with a steadier voice: "Lucky we got in grub and wateryesterday. "

"Right you are, Angel. Now, in case this holds on to us, why, we'llfind some of our friends over in the Bight, and they'll know by our rigthat something's wrong. Flanders is somewhere on the track, --you knowhe went back to the nigger business, --and Chink put a slave-deck in hishold down Rio way last spring. And old man Slack--I did him a servicewhen I crippled the corvette that was after him, and he's grateful. Hope we'll meet him. I'd rather meet Chink than Flanders in the dark, and I'd trust a Javanese trader before either. If either of them comeaboard we'll be ready to use their eyes for our benefit, not let 'emuse ours for theirs. Flanders once said he liked the looks of thisbrig. "

"S'pose we run foul of a bulldog?"

"We'll have to chance it. This coast's full o' them, too. Great guns, man! Would you drift around and do nothing? Anywhere east of due souththere's no land nearer than Cape Orange, and that's three hundred andfifty miles from here. Beginning to-morrow noon, we'll take deep-seasoundings until we strike the trade-wind. "

The negro cook felt his way through the preparing of meals and servedthem on time. The watches were set, and sail was put on the brig asfast as the men became accustomed to the new way of steering, thoserelieved always imparting what they had learned to their successors. Before nightfall on that first day they were scudding under foresail, topsail and topgallantsail and maintopsail, with the spanker furled asuseless, and the jib adding its aid to the foretopmast-staysail inkeeping the brig before the quartering seas which occasionally climbedaboard. The bowsprit light was rigged nightly; they hove the log everytwo hours; and Captain Swarth made scratches and notches on thesliding-hood of the companionway, while careful to wind his chronometerdaily. 

But, in spite of the cheer of his indomitable courage and confidence, his men, with the exception of a few, dropped into a querulous, whiningdiscontent. Mr. Todd, spurred by his responsibility, gradually camearound to something like his old arbitrary self. Yank Tate, thecarpenter, maintained through it all a patient faith in the captain, and, in so far as his influence could be felt, acted as a foil to theirascible, fault-finding Tom Plate, the forecastle lawyer, the man whohad been at the lead-line at Barbados. But the rest of them were dazedand nerveless, too shaken in brain and body to consider seriously Tom'sproposition to toss the afterguard overboard and beach the brig on theSouth American coast, where they could get fresh liver of shark, goat, sheep, or bullock, which even a "nigger" knew was the only cure formoon-blindness. 

They had not yet recovered from the unaccustomed debauch; their cloudedbrains seemed too large for their skulls, and their eyeballs ached intheir sockets, while they groped tremblingly from rope to rope at thebehest of the captain or mate. 

So Tom marked himself for future attention by insolent and disapprovingcomments on the orders of his superiors, and a habit of moving swiftlyto another part of the deck directly he had spoken, which prevented theblind and angry captain from finding him in the crowd. 

Dim as must have been the light of day through the pelting rain andstorm-cloud, it caused increased pain in their eyes, and they boundthem with their neckerchiefs, applying meanwhile such remedies asforecastle lore could suggest. The captain derided these remedies, butfrankly confessed his ignorance of anything but time as a means ofcure. And so they existed and suffered through a three days' damp galeand a fourth day's dead calm, when the brig rolled scuppers under withall sail set, ready for the next breeze. It came, cool, dry, and faintat first, then brisker--the unmistakable trade-wind. They boxed thebrig about and braced sharp on the starboard tack, steering again bythe feel of the wind and the rattling of shaking leeches aloft. Theremoval of bandages to ascertain the sun's position by sense of lightor increase of pain brought agonized howls from the experimenters, andthis deterred the rest. Not even by its warmth could they locate it. Itwas overhead at noon and useless as a guide. In the early morning andlate afternoon, when it might have indicated east and west, its warmthwas overcome by the coolness of the breeze. So they steered on blindly, close-hauled on the starboard tack, nearly as straight a course asthough they were whole men. 

They took occasional deep-sea soundings with the brig shaking in thewind, but found no bottom, and at the end of fifteen days a longerheave to the ground-swell was evidence to Captain Swarth's mind that hewas passing Cape St. Roque, and the soundings were discontinued. 

"No use bothering about St. Paul Rocks or the Rocas, Angel, " said he. "They rise out o' the deep sea, and if we're to hit, soundings won'twarn us in time. I take it we'll pass between them and well north ofAscension. " So he checked in the yards a little and brought the windmore abeam. 

One day Yank Tate appeared at the captain's elbow, and suggested, in alow voice, that he examine the treasure-chests in the 'tween-deck. "Iwas down stowing away some oakum, " he said, "an' I was sure I heard thelid close; but nobody answered me, an' I couldn't feel anybody. "

Captain Swarth descended to his cabin and found his keys missing; thenhe and the carpenter visited the chests. They were locked tight, and asheavy as ever. 

"Some one has the keys, Yank, and has very likely raided the diamonds. We can't do anything but wait. He can't get away. Keep still about it. "

The air became cooler as they sailed on; and judging that thetrade-wind was blowing more from the south than he had allowed for, thecaptain brought the wind squarely abeam, and the brig sailed faster. Still, it was too cool for the latitude, and it puzzled him, until aman came aft and groaned that he had lifted his bandage to bathe hiseyes, and had unmistakably seen the sun four points off the portquarter; but his eyes were worse now, and he could not do it again. 

"Four points off!" exclaimed Swarth. "Four o'clock in the afternoon. That's just about where the sun ought to be heading due east, and farenough south o' the line to bring this cool weather. We're not far fromAscension. Never knew the sou'east trade to act like this before. Mustha' been blowing out o' the sou'west half the time. "

A week later they were hove to on the port tack under double-reefedtopsails, with a cold gale of wind screaming through the rigging andcold green seas boarding their weather bow. It was the first break inthe friendly trade-wind, and Swarth confessed to himself--though not tohis men--that he was out of his reckoning; but one thing he was sureof--that this was a cyclone with a dangerous center. 

The brig labored heavily during the lulls as the seas rose, and whenthe squalls came, flattening them to a level, she would lie down like atired animal, while the æolian song aloft prevented orders being heardunless shouted near by. Captain Swarth went below and smashed the glassof an aneroid barometer (newly invented and lately acquired from anoutward-bound Englishman), in which he had not much confidence, butwhich might tell him roughly of the air-density. Feeling of theindicator, and judging by the angle it made with the center, --marked bya ring at the top, --he found a measurement which startled him. Settingthe adjustable hand over the indicator for future reference, hereturned to the deck, ill at ease, and ordered the topsailsgoose-winged. By the time the drenched and despairing blind men hadaccomplished this, a further lowering of the barometer induced him tofurl topsails and foretopmast-staysail, and allow the brig to rideunder a storm-spanker. Then the increasing wind required that this alsoshould be taken in, and its place filled by a tarpaulin lashed to theweather main-rigging. 

"Angel, " said the captain, shouting into the mate's ear, "there's onlyone thing to account for this. We're on the right tack for the SouthernOcean; but the storm-center is overtaking us faster than we can driftaway from it. We must scud out of its way. "

So they took in the tarpaulin and set the foretopmast-staysail again, and, with the best two helmsmen at the wheel, they sped before thetempest for four hours, during which there was no increase of the windand no change in the barometer; it still remained at its lowestreading. 

"Keep the wind as much on the port quarter as you dare, " orderedSwarth. "We're simply sailing around the center, and perhaps in withthe vortex. "

They obeyed him as they could, and in a few hours more there was lessfury in the blast and a slight rise in the barometer. 

"I was right, " said the captain. "The center will pass us now. We'reout of its way. "

They brought the brig around amid a crashing of seas over the portrail, and stowing the staysail, pinned her again on the port tack withthe tarpaulin. But a few hours of it brought an increase of wind and afall of the barometer. 

"What in d--nation does it mean, Angel?" cried the captain, desperately. "By all laws of storms we ought to drift away from thecenter. "

The mate could not tell; but a voice out of the night, barelydistinguishable above the shrieking wind, answered him. 

"You--all-fired--fool--don't--you--know--any--more--than--to--heave--to--in--the--Gulf--Stream?"

Then there was the faintest disturbance in the sounds of the sea, indicating the rushing by of a large craft. 

"What!" roared Swarth. "The Gulf Stream? I've lost my reckoning. Wheream I? Ship ahoy! Where am I?"

There was no answer, and he stumbled down to the main-deck among hismen, followed by the mate. 

"Draw a bucket of water, one of you, " he ordered. 

This was done, and he immersed his hand. The water was warm. 

"Gulf-Stream, " he yelled frantically, "Gulf Stream--how in h----l did weget up here? We ought to be down near St. Helena. Angel, come here. Let's think. We sailed by the wind on the southeast trade for--no, wedidn't. It was the northeast trade. We caught the northeast trade, andwe've circled all over the Western Ocean. "

"You're a bully full-rigged navigator, you are, " came the sneering, rasping voice of Tom Plate from the crowd. "Why didn't you drop yourhook at Barbados, and give us a chance for our eyes?"

The captain lunged toward him on the reeling deck; but Tom moved on. 

"Your time is coming, Tom Plate, " he shouted insanely; then he climbedto the poop, and when he had studied the situation awhile, called hisbewildered mate up to him. 

"We were blown out of the north entrance o' the bay, Angel, instead ofthe south, as we thought. I was fooled by the soundings. At this timeo' the year Barbados is about on the thermal equator--half-way betweenthe trades. This is a West India cyclone, and we're somewhere aroundHatteras. No wonder the port tack drifted us into the center. Stormsrevolve against the sun north o' the line, and with the sun south ofit. Oh, I'm the two ends and the bight of a d--d fool! Wear ship!" headded in a thundering roar. 

They put the brig on the starboard tack, and took hourly soundings withthe deep-sea lead. As they hauled it in for the fourth time, the mencalled that the water was cold; and on the next sounding the leadreached bottom at ninety fathoms. 

"We're inside the Stream and the hundred-fathom curve, Angel. Thebarometer's rising now. The storm-center's leaving us, and we'redrifting ashore, " said the captain. "I know pretty well where I am. These storms follow an invariable track, and I judge the center is tothe east of us, moving north. That's why we didn't run into it when wethought we were dodging it. We'll square away with the wind on thestarboard quarter now, and if we pick up the Stream and the glass don'trise, I'll be satisfied to turn in. I'm about fagged out. "

"It's too much for me, Bill, " answered Mr. Todd, wearily. "I cannavigate; but this ain't navigation. This is blindman's-buff. "

But he set the head-sail for his captain, and again the brig fledbefore the wind. Only once did they round to for soundings, and thistime found no bottom; so they squared away, and when, a few hourslater, the seas came aboard warm, Swarth was confident enough of hisposition to allow his mind to dwell on pettier details of his business. 

It was nearly breakfast-time now, and the men would soon be eating. With his pistols in his coat pockets he stationed himself beside thescuttle of the fore-hatch, --the entrance to the forecastle, --and waitedlong and patiently, listening to occasional comments on his folly andbad seamanship which ascended from below, until the harsh voice of TomPlate on the stairs indicated his coming up. He reached toward Tom withone hand, holding a cocked pistol with the other; but Tom slid easilyout of his wavering grasp and fled along the deck. He followed hisfootsteps until he lost them, and picked up instead the angry plaint ofthe negro cook in the galley amidships. 

"I do' know who you are, but you want to git right out o' my galley, now. You heah me? I'se had enough o' dis comin' inter my galley. Gwan, now! Is you de man dat's all time stealin' my coffee? I'll gib youcoffee, you trash! Take dat!"

Captain Swarth reached the galley door in time to receive on the leftside of his face a generous share of a pot of scalding coffee. Itbrought an involuntary shriek of agony from him; then he clung to thegalley-lashings and spoke his mind. Still in torment, he felt his waythrough the galley; but the cook and the intruder had escaped by theother door and made no sound. 

All that day and the night following he chose to lie in his darkenedstate-room, with his face bandaged in oily cloths, while Yank Tatestood his watch. In the morning he removed the bandages and took in thesight of his state-room fittings: the bulkhead, his desk, chronometer, cutlass, and clothing hanging on the hooks. It was a joyous sight, andhe shouted in gladness. He could not see with his right eye and butdimly with his left, but a scrutiny of his face in a mirror discloseddeep lines that had not been there, distorted eyelids, and the leftside where the coffee had scalded puffed to a large, angry blister. Hetied up his face, leaving his left eye free, and went on deck. 

The wind had moderated, but on all sides was a wild gray waste ofheaving, white-crested combers, before which the brig was stillscudding under the staysail. Three miles off on the port bow was alarge, square-bowed, square-yarded ship, hove to and heading away fromthem, which might be a frigate or a subsidized Englishman with paintedports; but in either case she could not be investigated now. He lookedat the compass. The brig was heading about southeast, and his judgmentwas confirmed. Two haggard-faced men with bandaged eyes were grindingthe wheel to starboard and port, and keeping the brig's yaws within twopoints each way--good work for blind men. Angel Todd stood near, hischin resting in his hand and his elbow on the companionway. Forward thewatch sat about in coils of rope and sheltered nooks or walked the deckunsteadily, and a glance aloft showed the captain his rigging hangingin bights and yards pointed every way. She was unkempt as a wreck. Thesame glance apprised him of an English ensign, union down, tattered andfrayed to half its size, at the end of the standing spanker-gaff, withthe halyards made fast high on the royal-backstay, above the reach ofbungling blind fingers. Tom Plate was coming aft with none of thehesitancy of the blind, and squinting aloft at the damageddistress-signal. He secured another ensign--American--from theflag-locker in the booby-hatch, mounted the rail, and hoisted it, uniondown, in place of the other. Then he dropped to the deck and lookedinto the glaring left eye and pepper-box pistol of Captain Swarth, whohad descended on him. 

"Hands up, Tom Plate, over your head--quick, or I'll blow your brainsout!"

White in the face and open-mouthed, Tom obeyed. 

"Mr. Todd, " called the captain, "come down here--port main-rigging. "

The mate came quickly, as he always did when he heard the prefix to hisname. It was used only in emergencies. 

"What soundings did you get at the lead when we were blowing out?"asked the captain. "What water did you have when you sang out 'aquarter six' and 'a quarter less six'?"

"N-n-one, capt'n. There warn't any bottom. I jess wanted to get you todrop the other anchor and hold her off the reef. "

"Got him tight, cappen?" asked the mate. "Shall I help you hold 'im?"

"I've got my sight back. I've got Tom Plate under my gun. How long haveyou been flying signals of distress, Tom Plate?"

"Ever since I could see, capt'n, " answered the trembling sailor. 

"How long is that?"

"Second day out, sir. "

"What's your idea in keeping still about it? What could you gain bybeing taken aboard a man-of-war?"

"I didn't want to have all the work piled on me jess 'cause I couldsee, capt'n. I never thought anybody could ever see again. I sleptpartly under No. 2 gun that night, and didn't get it so bad. "

"You sneaked into my room, got my keys, and raided the treasure-chests. You know what the rules say about that? Death without trial. "

"No, I didn't, capt'n; I didn't. "

"Search him, Mr. Todd. "

The search brought to light a tobacco-pouch in which were about fiftyunset diamonds and a few well-jeweled solid-gold ornaments, which thecaptain pocketed. 

"Not much of a haul, considering what you left behind, " he said calmly. "I suppose you only took what you could safely hide and swim with. "

"I only took my share, sir; I did no harm; I didn't want to be driftin'round wi' blind men. How'd I know anybody could ever see any more?"

"Sad mistake, Tom. All we wanted, it seems, was a good scalding withhot coffee. " He mused a few moments, then continued: "There must besome medical virtue in hot coffee which the doctors haven't learned, and--well--Tom, you've earned your finish. "

"You won't do it, capt'n; you can't do it. The men won't have it;they're with me, " stuttered the man. 

"Possibly they are. I heard you all growling down the hatch yesterdaymorning. You're a pack of small-minded curs. I'll get another crew. Mr. Todd, " he said to the listening mate, "steward told me he was out ofcoffee, so we'll break a bag out o' the lazarette. It's a heavylift--two hundred pounds and over--'bout the weight of a man; so we'llhoist it up. Let Tom, here, rig a whip to the spanker-gaff. He cansee. "

"Aye, aye, sir, " answered the mate. "Get a single block and a strap anda gant-line out o' the bo's'n's locker, Tom. "

"Is it all right, capt'n?" asked Tom, lowering his hands with a deepsigh of relief. "I did what seemed right, you know. "

"Rig that whip, " said Swarth, turning his back and ascending the poop. 

Tom secured the gear, and climbing aloft and out the gaff, fastened theblock directly over the lazarette-hatch, just forward of the binnacle. Then he overhauled the rope until it reached the deck, and descended. 

"Come up here on the poop, " called the captain; and he came. 

"Shall I go down and hook on, sir?" he asked zealously. 

"Make a hangman's noose in the end of the rope, " said Swarth. 

"Eh--what--a runnin' bowline--a timber-hitch? No, no, " he yelled, as heread the captain's face. "You can't do it. The men----"

"Make a hangman's knot in the end of the rope, " thundered the captain, his pistol at Tom's ear. 

With a face like that of a death's-head he tied the knot. 

"Pass it round your neck and draw it tight. "

Hoarse, inarticulate screams burst from the throat of the man, ended bya blow on the side of his face by the captain's iron-hard fist. Hefell, and lay quiet, while Swarth himself adjusted the noose and boundthe hands with his own handkerchief. The men at the wheel strainedtheir necks this way and that, with tense waves of conflictingexpressions flitting across their weary faces, and the men forward, aroused by the screams, stood about in anxious expectancy until theyheard Swarth's roar: "Lay aft here, the watch!"

They came, feeling their way along by rail and hatch. 

"Clap on to that gant-line at the main fife-rail, and lift this bag ofcoffee out o' the lazarette, " sang out the captain. 

They found the loose rope, tautened it, hooked the bight into an opensheave in the stanchion, and listlessly walked forward with it. Whenthey had hoisted the unconscious Tom to the gaff, Swarth ordered:"Belay, coil up the fall, and go forrard. "

They obeyed, listlessly as ever, with no wondering voice raised toinquire why they had not lowered the coffee they had hoisted. 

Captain Swarth looked at the square-rigged ship, now on the portquarter--an ill-defined blur to his imperfect vision. "Fine chance we'dhave had, " he muttered, "if that happened to be a bulldog. Angel, " hesaid, as the mate drew near, "hot coffee is good for moon-blindness, taken externally, as a blistering agent--a counter-irritant. We have nofly-blisters in the medicine-chest, but smoking-hot grease must be justas good, if not better than either. Have the cook heat up a potful, andyou get me out a nice small paint-brush. "

Forty-eight hours later, when the last wakening vision among the twentymen had taken cognizance of the grisly object aloft, the gaff was guyedoutboard, the rope cut at the fife-rail, and the body of Tom Platedropped, feet first, to the sea. 

Then when Captain Swarth's eyes permitted he took an observation ortwo, and, after a short lecture to his crew on the danger of sleepingin tropic moonlight, shaped his course for Barbados Island, to take upthe burden of his battle with fate where the blindness had forced himto lay it down; to scheme and to plan, to dare and to do, to war and todestroy, against the inevitable coming of the time when fate shouldprove the stronger--when he would lose in a game where one must alwayswin or die. 

SALVAGE

She had a large crew, abnormally large hawse-pipes, and a badreputation--the last attribute born of the first. Registered as the_Rosebud_, this innocent name was painted on her stern and on hersixteen dories; but she was known among the fishing-fleet as the_Ishmaelite_, and the name fitted her. Secretive and unfriendly, shefished alone, avoided company, answered few hails, and, seldom fillingher hold, disposed of her catch as her needs required, in out-of-the-wayports, often as far south as Charleston. And she usually left behindher such bitter memories of her visit as placed the last port at thebottom of her list of markets. 

No ship-chandler or provision-dealer ever showed her receipted bills, and not a few of them openly averred that certain burglaries of theirgoods had plausible connection with her presence in port. Be this as itmay, the fact stood that farmers on the coast who saw her high bow andunmistakable hawse-pipes when she ran in for bait invariablydouble-locked their barns and chicken-coops, and turned loose all tieddogs when night descended, often to find both dogs and chickens gone inthe morning. 

Once, too, three small schooners had come home with empty holds, andcomplained of the appearance, while anchored in the fog, of a flotillaof dories manned by masked men, who overpowered and locked all hands incabin or forecastle, and then removed the cargoes of fish to their owncraft, hidden in the fog. Shortly after this, the _Ishmaelite_ disposedof a large catch in Baltimore, and the piracy was believed of her, butnever proved. 

Her luck at finding things was remarkable. Drifting dories, spars, oars, and trawl-tubs sought her unsavory company, as though impelled bythe inanimate perversity which had sent them drifting. They were soldin port, or returned to their owners, when paid for. In the early partof her career she had towed a whistling buoy into Boston and claimedsalvage of the government, showing her logbook to prove that she hadpicked it up far at sea. The salvage was paid; but, as her reputationspread, there were those who declared that she herself had sent thebuoy adrift. 

As poets and sailors believe that ships have souls, it may be that shegloried in her shame, like other fallen creatures; for her large, slanting oval hawse-pipes and boot-top stripe gave a fine, Orientalsneer to her face-like bow, and there was slur and insult torespectable craft in the lazy dignity with which she would swashthrough the fleet on the port tack, compelling vessels on the starboardtack to give up their right of way or be rammed; for she was a largecraft, and there was menace in her solid, one-piece jib-boom, thick asan ordinary mainmast. An outward-bound coasting-schooner, resentingthis lawlessness on one occasion, attempted to assert her rights, andbeing on the lawful starboard tack, bore steadily down on the_Ishmaelite_, --who budged not a quarter-point, --and, losing heart atthe last moment, luffed up, all shaking, in just the position to allowthe ring of her port anchor to catch on the bill of the _Ishmaelite's_starboard anchor. As her own ring-stopper and shank-painter were weak, the patent windlass unlocked, and the end of the cable not secured inthe chain-locker, the _Ishmaelite_ walked calmly away with the anchorand a hundred fathoms of chain, which, at the next port, she sold aslegitimate spoil of the sea. 

As her reputation increased, so did the hatred of men, while the numberof ports on the coast which she could safely enter became painfullysmall. To avoid conflict with local authority, she had hurried to seawithout clearing at the custom-house from Boston, Bangor, Portland, andGloucester. She had carried local authority in the persons ofdistressed United States marshals to sea with her from three otherports, and landed it on some outlying point before the next meal-hour. With her blunt jib-boom she had prodded a hole in the side of alighthouse supply-boat, and sailed away without answering questions. The government was taking cognizance, and her description was writtenon the fly-leaves of several revenue cutters' log-books, while Sundaynewspapers in the large cities began a series of special articles aboutthe mysterious schooner-rigged pirate of the fishing-fleet. 

The future looked dark for her, and when the time came that she waschased away from Plymouth harbor--which she had entered forprovisions--by a police launch, it seemed that the end was at hand; forshe had done no wrong in Plymouth, and the police boat was evidentlyacting on general principles and instructions, which were vital enoughto extend the pursuit to the three-mile limit. Her trips had becomenecessarily longer, and there was but two weeks' supply of food in thelazarette. The New England coast was an enemy's country, but in thecrowded harbor of New York was a chance to lie unobserved at anchorlong enough to secure the stores she needed, which only a large citycan supply. So Cape Cod was doubled on the way to New York; but thebrisk offshore wind, which had helped her in escaping the police boat, developed to a gale that blew her to sea, and increased in force as thehours passed by. 

Hard-headed, reckless fellows were these men who owned the _Rosebud_ andran her on shares and under laws of their own making. Had they been oflarger, broader minds, with no change of ethics they would have acquireda larger, faster craft with guns, hoisted the black flag, and sailedsouthward to more fruitful fields. Being what they were, --fishermen gonewrong, --they labored within their limitations and gleaned upon knownground. 

They were eighteen in number, and they typified the maritime nations ofthe world. Americans predominated, of course, but English, French, German, Portuguese, Scandinavian, and Russian were among them. The cookwas a West India negro, and the captain--or their nearest approach to acaptain--a Portland Yankee. Both were large men, and held theirpositions by reason of special knowledge and a certain magnetic masteryof soul which dominated the others against their rules; for in thissocial democracy captains and bosses were forbidden. The cook was anexpert in the galley and a thorough seaman; the other as able a seaman, and a navigator past the criticism of the rest. 

His navigation had its limits, however, and this gale defined them. Hecould find his latitude by meridian observation, and his longitude bymorning sights and chronometer time; his dead-reckoning wastrustworthy, and he possessed a fair working conception of the set andforce of the Atlantic currents and the heave of the sea in a blow. Buthis studies had not given him more than a rudimentary knowledge ofmeteorology and the laws of storms. A gale was a gale to him, and heknew that it would usually change its direction as a clock's hands willin moving over the dial; and if, by chance, it should back around toits former point, he prepared for heavier trouble, with no reference tothe fluctuations of the barometer, which instrument to him was merely aweather-glass--about as valuable as a rheumatic big toe. 

So, in the case we are considering, not knowing that he was caught bythe southern fringe of a St. Lawrence valley storm, with its center oflow barometer to the northwest and coming toward him, he hove to on theport tack to avoid Cape Cod, and drifted to sea, shortening sail as thewind increased, until, with nothing set but a small storm-mainsail, hefound himself in the sudden calm of the storm-center, which hadovertaken him. Here, in a tumultuous cross-sea, fifty miles off theshore, deceived by the light, shifty airs and the patches of blue skyshowing between the rushing clouds, he made all sail and headed west, only to have the masts whipped out as the whistling fury of wind on theopposite side of the vortex caught and jibed the canvas. 

It was manifestly a judgment of a displeased Providence; and, glad thatthe hull was still tight, they cut away the wreck and rode out thegale, --now blowing out of the north, --hanging to the tangle of spar andcordage which had once been the foremast and its gear. It made a fairlygood sea-anchor, with the forestay--strong as any chain--for a cable, and she lay snug under the haphazard breakwater and benefited by theprotection, as the seas must first break their heads over the wreckagebefore reaching her. The mainmast was far away, with all that pertainedto it; but the solid, hard-pine jib-boom was still intact, and not oneof the sixteen dories piled spoon-fashion in the four nests had beeninjured when the spars went by the board. So they were content tosmoke, sleep, and kill time as they could, until the gale and seashould moderate, and they could rig a jury-foremast of the wreck. 

But before they could begin, --while there was still wind enough to curlthe head of an occasional sea into foam, --a speck which had beenshowing on the shortened horizon to windward, when the schooner liftedout of the hollows, took form and identity--a two-masted steamer, withEnglish colors, union down, at the gaff. High out of water, herbroadside drift was faster than that of the dismasted craft riding toher wreckage, and in a few hours she was dangerously near, directlyahead, rolling heavily in the trough of the sea. They could see shredsof canvas hanging from masts and gaffs. 

"Wunner what's wrong wid her, " said the cook, as he relinquished theglasses to the next man. "Amos, " he called to another, "you've been inthe ingine-room, you say. Is her ingine bus' down?"

"Dunno, " answered Amos. "Steam's all right; see the jet comin' out o'the stack? There! she's turnin' over--kickin' ahead. 'Bout time if shewants to clear us. She's signalin'. What's that say, Elisha?"

The ensign was fluttering down, and a string of small flags going alofton the other part of the signal-halyards, while the steamer, headingwest, pushed ahead about a length under the impulse of her propeller. Elisha, the navigator, went below, and returned with a couple of books, which he consulted. 

"Her number, " he said. "She's the _Afghan Prince_ o' London. " As theschooner carried no signal-flags, he waved his sou'wester in answer, and the flags came down, to be replaced by others. 

"Rudder carried away, " he read, and then looked with the glasses. "Rudder seems all right; must mean his steerin'-gear. Why don't theyrig up suthin', or a drag over the stern?"

"Don't know enough, " said an expatriated Englishman of the crew. "She'sone o' them bloomin', undermanned tramps, run by apprentices an' Thameswatermen. They're drivin' sailors an' sailin'-ships off the sea blarst'em!"

"Martin, " said Elisha to the cook, "what's the matter with our bein' adrag for her?"

"Dead easy, if we kin git his line an' he knows how to rig a bridle. "

"We can show him, if it comes to it. What ye say, boys? If we steer herinto port we're entitled to salvage. She's helpless; we're not, forwe've got a jury-rig under the bows. Hello! what's he sayin' now?"Other flags had gone aloft on the steamer, which asked for thelongitude. Then followed others which said that the chronometer wasbroken. 

"Better 'n ever!" exclaimed Elisha, excitedly. "Can't navigate. Ourchronometer's all right; we never needed it, an' don't now, but it's abig help in a salvage claim. What ye say? Can't we get our hemp cableto him with a dory?"

Why not? They were fishermen, accustomed to dory work. A short confabsettled this point; a dory was thrown over, and Elisha and Amos pulledto the steamer, which was now abreast, near enough for the name whichElisha had read to be seen plainly on the stern, but not near enoughfor the men shouting from her taffrail to make themselves heard on theschooner. Elisha and Amos, in the dory, conferred with these men andthen returned. 

"Badly rattled, " they reported. "Tiller-ropes parted, an' not a manaboard can put a long splice in a wire rope, an' o' course we said wecouldn't. They'll take our line, an' we're to chalk up the position an'the course to New York. Clear case o' salvage. We furnish everything, an' sacrifice our jury-material to aid 'em. "

"What'll be our chance in court, I'm thinkin', " said one, doubtfully. "Hadn't we better keep out o' the courts? It's been takin' most of ourtime lately. "

"What's the matter wi' ye?" yelled Elisha. "We owe a few hundreds, an'mebbe a fine or two; an' there's anywhere from one to two hundredthousand--hull an' cargo--that we save. We'll get no less than a third, mebbe more. Go lay down, Bill. "

Bill subsided. They knotted four or five dory rodings together, coiledthe long length of rope in the dory, unbent the end of their water-laidcable from the anchor, and waited until the wallowing steamer haddrifted far enough to leeward to come within the steering-arc of acraft with no canvas; then they cut away the wreck, crowded forward, all hands spreading coats to the breeze, and when the schooner had paidoff, steered her down with the wind on the quarter until almost nearenough to hail the steamer, where they rounded to, safe in theknowledge that she could not drift as fast as the other. 

Away went the dory, paying out on the roding, the end of which wasfastened to the disconnected cable, and when it had reached thesteamer, a heaving-line was thrown, by which the roding was hauledaboard. Then the dory returned, while the steamer's men hauled thecable to their stern. The bridle, two heavy ropes leading from theafter-winch out the opposite quarter-chocks to the end of the cable, was quickly rigged by the steamer's crew. 

With a warning toot of the whistle, she went ahead, and the longtow-line swept the sea-tops, tautened, strained, and creaked on thewindlass-bitts, and settled down to its work, while the schooner, dropping into her wake, was dragged westward at a ten-knot rate. 

"This is bully, " said Elisha, gleefully. "Now I'll chalk out theposition an' give her the course--magnetic, to make sure. "

He did so, and they held up in full view of the steamer's bridge alarge blackboard showing in six-inch letters the formula: "Lat. 41-20. Lon. 69-10. Mag. Co. W. Half S. "

A toot of the whistle thanked them, and they watched the steamer, whichhad been heading a little to the south of this course, painfully swingher head up to it by hanging the schooner to the starboard leg of thebridle; but she did not stop at west-half-south, and when she pointedunmistakably as high as northwest, still dragging her tow by thestarboard bridle, a light broke on them. 

"She's goin' on her way with us, " said Elisha. "No, no; she can't. She's bound for London, " he added. "Halifax, mebbe. "

They waved their hats to port, and shouted in chorus at the steamer. They were answered by caps flourished to starboard from the bridge, andoutstretched arms which pointed across the Atlantic Ocean, while thecourse changed slowly to north, then faster as wind and sea bore on theother bow, until the steamer steadied and remained at east-by-north. 

"The rhumb course to the Channel, " groaned Elisha, wildly. "The nerveof it! An' I'm supposed to give the longitude every noon. Why, dammit, boys, they'll claim they rescued us, an' like as not the Englishcourts'll allow them salvage on our little tub. "

"Let go the tow-line! Let 'em go to h----l!" they shouted angrily, andsome started forward, but were stopped by the cook. His eyes gleamed inhis black face, and his voice was a little higher pitched than usual;otherwise he was the steadiest man there. 

"We'll hang right on to our bran-new cable, men, " he said. "It's ours, not theirs. 'Course we kin turn her adrif' ag'in, an' be wuss off, too;we can't find de foremast now. But dat ain't de bes' way. John, " hecalled to the Englishman of the crew, "how many men do you' countrytramp steamers carry?"

John computed mentally, then muttered: "Two mates, six ash-cats, [1] twoflunkies, two quartermasters, watchman, deck-hands--oh, 'bout sixteenor seventeen, Martin. "

 [1] Ash-cats: engineers and firemen. 

"Boys, le' 's man de win'lass. We'll heave in on our cable, an' if wekin git close enough to climb aboard, we'll reason it out wid datEnglish cappen, who can't fin' his way roun' alone widout stealin'little fishin'-schooners. "

"Right!" they yelled. "Man the windlass. We'll show the lime-juicethief who's doin' this. "

"Amos, " said Martin to the ex-engineer, "you try an' 'member all youforgot 'bout ingines in case anything happens to de crew o' datsteamer; an', Elisha, you want to keep good track o' where we go, so'syou kin find you' way back. "

"I'll get the chronometer on deck now. I can take sights alone. "

They took the cable to the windlass-barrel and began to heave. It washard work, --equal to heaving an anchor against a strong head wind andten-knot tideway, --and only half the crew could find room on thewindlass-brakes; so, while the first shift labored and swore andencouraged one another, the rest watched the approach of a small tugtowing a couple of scows, which seemed to have arisen out of the seaahead of them. When the steamer was nearly upon her, she let go hertow-line and ranged up alongside, while a man leaning out of thepilot-house gesticulated to the steamer's bridge and finally shook hisfist. Then the tug dropped back abreast of the schooner. She was adingy little boat, the biggest and brightest of her fittings being thename-board on her pilot-house, which spelled in large gilt letters theappellation _J. C. Hawks_. 

"Say, " yelled her captain from his door, "I'm blown out wi' my barges, short o' grub an' water. Can you gi' me some? That lime-juice suckerahead won't. "

"Can you tow us to New York?" asked Elisha, who had brought up thechronometer and placed it on the house, ready to take morning sightsfor his longitude if the sun should appear. 

"No; not unless I sacrifice the barges an' lose my contract wi' thecity. They're garbage-scows, an' I haven't power enough to hook on toanother. Just got coal enough to get in. "

"An' what do you call this--a garbage-scow?" answered Elisha, ill-naturedly. "We've got no grub or water to spare. We've got troublesof our own. "

"Dammit, man, we're thirsty here. Give us a breaker o' water. Throw itoverboard; I'll get it. "

"No; told you we have none to spare; an' we're bein' yanked out tosea. "

"Well, gi' me a bottleful; that won't hurt you. "

"No; sheer off. Git out o' this. We're not in the Samaritan business. "

A forceful malediction came from the tug captain, and a whirlingmonkey-wrench from the hand of the engineer, who had listened from theengine-room door. It struck Elisha's chronometer and knocked it off thehouse, box and all, into the sea. He answered the profanity in kind, and sent an iron belaying-pin at the engineer; but it only dented thetug's rail, and with these compliments the two craft separated, the tugsteaming back to her scows. 

"That lessens our chance just so much, " growled Elisha, as he joinedthe rest. "Now we can't do all we agreed to. "

"Keep dead-reckonin', 'Lisha, " said Martin; "dat's good 'nough for us;an', say, can't you take sights by a watch--jess for a bluff, to showin de log-book?"

"Might; 't wouldn't be reliable. Good enough, though, for log-booktestimony. That's what I'll do. "

Inch by inch they gathered in their cable and coiled it down, unmovedby the protesting toots of the steamer's whistle. When half of it layon the deck, the steamer slowed down, while her crew worked at theirend of the rope; then she went ahead, the schooner dropped back tonearly the original distance, and they saw a long stretch of new Manilahawser leading out from the bridle and knotted to their cable. Theycursed and shook their fists, but pumped manfully on the windlass, andby nightfall had brought the knot over their bows by means of a"messenger, " and were heaving on the new hawser. 

"Weakens our case just that much more, " growled Elisha. "We were tofurnish the tow-line. "

"Heave away, my boys!" said Martin. "Dey's only so many ropes aboardher, an' when we get 'em all we've got dat boat an' dem men. "

So they warped their craft across the Western Ocean. Knot after knot, hawser after hawser, came over the bows and cumbered the deck. 

They would have passed them over the stern as fast as they came in, were they not salvors with litigation ahead; for their hands must beclean when they entered their claim, and to this end Elisha chalked outthe longitude daily at noon and showed it to the steamer, alwaysreceiving a thankful acknowledgment on the whistle. He secured thefigures by his dead-reckoning; but the carefully kept log-book alsoshowed longitude by chronometer sights, taken when the sun shone, withhis old quadrant and older watch, and corrected to bring a resultplausibly near to that of the reckoning by log and compass. But thelog-book contained no reference to the loss of the chronometer. Thatwas to happen at the last. 

On stormy days, when the sea rose, they dared not shorten theirtow-line, and the steamer-folk made sure that it was long enough toeliminate the risk of its parting. So these days were passed inidleness and profanity; and when the sea went down they would go towork, hoping that the last tow-line was in their hands. But it was notuntil the steamer had given them three Manila and two steel hawsers, four weak--too weak--mooring-chains, and a couple of old and frayedwarping-lines, that the coming up to the bow of an anchor-chain ofsix-inch link told them that the end was near, that the steamer hadexhausted her supply of tow-lines, and that her presumably sane skipperwould not give them his last means of anchoring--the other chain. 

They were right. Either for this reason or because of the proximity toEnglish bottom, the steamer ceased her coyness, and her crew watchedfrom the taffrail, while those implacable, purposeful men behind creptup to them. It was slow, laborious work; for the small windlass wouldnot grip the heavy links of the chain, and they must needs climb out afew fathoms, making fast messengers to heave on, while the idle half ofthem gathered in the slackened links by hand. 

On a calm, still night they finally unshipped the windlass-brakes andlooked up at the round, black stern of the steamer not fifty feetahead. They were surrounded by lights of outgoing and incoming craft, and they knew by soundings taken that day, when the steamer had sloweddown for the same purpose, that they were within the hundred-fathomcurve, close to the mouth of the Channel, but not within the three-milelimit. Rejoicing at the latter fact, they armed themselves to a manwith belaying-pins from their still intact pin-rails, and climbed outon the cable, the whole eighteen of them, man following man, in closeclimbing order. 

"Now, look here, " said a portly man with a gilt-bound cap to the leaderof the line, as he threw a leg over the taffrail, "what's the meaning, may I ask, of this unreasonable conduct?"

"You may ask, of course, " said the man, --it was Elisha, --"but we'd liketo ask something, too" (he was sparring for time until more shouldarrive); "we'd like to ask why you drag us across the Atlantic Oceanagainst our will?"

Another man climbed aboard, and said:

"Yes; we 'gree to steer you into New York. You's adrif' in de trough ofde sea, an' you got no chronometer, an' you can't navigate, an' we come'long--under command, mind you--an' give you our tow-line, an' tell youde road to port. Wha' you mean by dis?"

"Tut, tut, my colored friend!" answered the man of gilt. "You weredismasted and helpless, and I gave you a tow. It was on the high seas, and I chose the port, as I had the right. "

Another climbed on board. 

"We were not helpless, " rejoined Elisha. "We had a good jury-rig underthe bows, and we let it go to assist you. Are you the skipper here?"

"I am. "

Martin's big fist smote him heavily in the face, and the blow wasfollowed by the crash of Elisha's belaying-pin on his head. The captainfell, and for a while lay quiet. There were four big, strong men overthe rail now, and others coming. Opposing them were a second mate, anengineer, a fireman, coal-passer, watchman, steward, and cook--easyvictims to these big-limbed fishermen. The rest of the crew were onduty below decks or at the steering-winch. It was a short, sharpbattle; a few pistols exploded, but no one was hurt, and the firearmswere captured and their owners well hammered with belaying-pins; then, binding all victims as they overcame them, the whole party raided thesteering-winch and engine-room, and the piracy was complete. 

But from their standpoint it was not piracy--it was resistance topiracy; and when Amos, the ex-engineer, had stopped the engines andbanked the fires, they announced to the captives bound to the railthat, with all due respect for the law, national and international, they would take that distressed steamboat into New York and deliver herto the authorities, with a claim for salvage. The bargain had been madeon the American coast, and their log-book not only attested this, butthe well-doing of their part of the contract. 

When the infuriated English captain, now recovered, had exhausted hisstock of adjectives and epithets, he informed them (and he was backedby his steward and engineer) that there was neither food nor coal forthe run to New York; to which Elisha replied that, if so, the foolishand destructive waste would be properly entered in the log-book, andmight form the basis of a charge of barratry by the underwriters, if itturned out that any underwriters had taken a risk on a craft with suchan "all-fired lunatic" for a skipper as this. But they would go back;they might be forced to burn some of the woodwork fittings (her deckswere of iron) for fuel, and as for food, though their own supply ofgroceries was about exhausted, there were several cubic yards of saltcodfish in the schooner's hold, and this they would eat: they were usedto it themselves, and science had declared that it was goodbrain-food--good for feeble-minded Englishmen who couldn't splice wirenor take care of a chronometer. 

Before starting back they made some preliminary and precautionarypreparations. While Martin inventoried the stores and Amos thecoal-supply, the others towed the schooner alongside and moored her. Then they shackled the schooner's end of the chain cable around theinner barrel of the windlass and riveted the key of the shackle. Theytranshipped their clothing and what was left of the provisions. Theyalso took the log-book and charts, compass, empty outerchronometer-case, --which Elisha handled tenderly and officiously by itsstrap in full view of the captives, --windlass-brakes, tool-chest, deck-tools, axes, handspikes, heavers, boat-hooks, belaying-pins, andeverything in the shape of weapon or missile by which disgruntledEnglishmen could do harm to the schooner or their rescuers. 

Then they passed the rescued ones down to the schooner, and Martin toldthem where they would find the iron kettle for boiling codfish, withthe additional information that with skill and ingenuity they couldmake fish-balls in the same kettle. 

Martin had reported a plenitude of provisions, and anathematized thelying captain and steward; and Amos had declared his belief that withcareful economy in the use of coal they could steam to the Americancoast with the supply in the bunkers: so they did not take any of thecodfish, and the hawsers, valuable as fuel in case of a shortage, wereleft where they would be more valuable as evidence against the lawless, incompetent Englishmen. And they also left the dories, all but one, forreasons in Elisha's mind which he did not state at the time. 

They removed the bonds of one man--who could release the others--andcast off the fastenings; then, with Amos and a picked crew of pupils inthe boat's vitals, they went ahead and dropped the prison-hulk back tothe full length of the chain, while the furious curses of the prisonerstroubled the air. They found a little difficulty in steering by thewinch and deck-compass (they would have mended the tiller-ropes with asection of backstay had they not bargained otherwise), but finallymastered the knack, and headed westerly. 

You cannot take an Englishman's ship from under him--homeward bound andclose to port--and drag him to sea again on a diet of salt codfishwithout impinging on his sanity. When day broke they looked and saw thehawsers slipping over the schooner's rail, and afterward a fountain offish arising from her hatches to follow the hawsers overboard. 

"What's de game, I wunner?" asked Martin. "Tryin' to starve deyselves?"

"Dunno, " answered Elisha, with a serious expression. "They're not doin'it for nothin'. They're wavin' their hats at us. Somethin' on theirminds. "

"We'll jes let 'em wave. We'll go 'long 'bout our business. "

So they went at eight knots an hour; for, try as he might, Amos couldget no more out of the engine. "She's a divil to chew up coal, " heexplained; "we may have to burn the boat yet. "

"Hope not, " said Elisha. "'Tween you an' me, Amos, this is a desperatebluff we're makin', an' if we go to destroyin' property we may get nocredit for savin' it. We'd have no chance in the English courts at all, but it's likely an American judge 'ud recognize our originalposition--our bargain to steer her in. "

"Too bad 'bout that tarred cable of ours, " rejoined Amos; "three days'good fuel in that, I calculate. "

"Well, it's gone with the codfish, and the fact is properly entered inthe log as barratrous conduct on the part of the skipper. Enough toprove him insane. "

And further to strengthen this possible aspect of the case, Elishafound a blank space on the leaf of the log-book which recorded thefirst meeting and bargain to tow, and filled it with the potentialsentence, "Steamer's commander acts strangely. " For a well-kept logbookis excellent testimony in court. 

Elisha's knowledge of navigation did not enable him to project a courseon the great circle--the shortest track between two points on theearth's surface, and the route taken by steamers. But he possessed afairly practical and ingenious mind, and with a flexible steelstraight-edge rule, and a class-room globe in the skipper's room, laidout his course between the lane-routes of the liners, --which he wouldneed to vary daily, --as it was not wise to court investigation. But hesignaled to two passing steamships for Greenwich time, and set hiswatch, obtaining its rate of correction by the second favor; and withthis, and his surely correct latitude by meridian observation, he hopedto make an accurate landfall in home waters. 

And so the hours went by, with their captives waving caps ceaselessly, until the third day's sun arose to show them an empty deck on theschooner, over a dozen specks far astern and to the southward, and aneast-bound steamship on their port bow. The specks could be nothing butthe dories, and they were evidently trying to intercept the steamship. Elisha yelled in delight. 

"They've abandoned ship--just what I hoped for--in the dories. They'veno case at all now. "

"But what for, Elisha?" asked Martin. "Mus' be hungry, I t'ink. "

"Mebbe, or else they think that liner, who can stop only to savelife, --carries the mails, you see, --will turn round and put 'em incharge here. Why, nothin' but an English man-o'-war could do that now. "

They saw the steamship slow down, while the black specks flocked up toher, and then go on her way. And they went on theirs; but three dayslater they had reasoned out a better explanation of the Englishmen'sconduct. Martin came on deck with a worried face, and announced that, running short of salt meat in the harness-cask, he had broken out thebarrels of beef, pork, and hard bread that he had counted upon, andfound their contents absolutely uneatable, far gone in putrescence, alive with crawling things. 

"Must ha' thought he was fitting out a Yankee hell-ship when he boughtthis, " said Elisha, in disgust, as he looked into the ill-smellingbarrels. "Overboard with it, boys!"

Overboard went the provisions, for starving animals could not eat ofthem, and the odor permeated the ship. They resigned themselves to agloomy outlook--gloomier when Amos reported that the coal in thebunkers would last but two days longer. He had been mistaken, he said;he had calculated to run compound engines with Scotch boilers, not afull-powered blast-furnace with six inches of scale on thecrown-sheets. 

"And they knew this, " groaned Elisha. "That's why they chucked thestuff overboard--to bring us to terms, and never thinkin' they'd starvefirst. They were dead luny, but we're lunier. "

They stopped the engines and visited the schooner in the dory. Not ascrap of food was there, and the fish-kettle was scraped bright. Theyreturned and went on. With plenty of coal there was still six days' runahead to New York. How many with wood fuel, chopped on empty stomachsand burned in coal-furnaces, they could not guess. But they went towork. There were three axes, two top-mauls, and several handspikes andpinch-bars aboard, and with these they attacked bulkheads and sparewoodwork, and fed the fires with the fragments; for a glance down thehatches had shown them nothing more combustible and detachable in thecargo than a few layers of railroad iron, which covered and blocked theopenings to the lower hold. 

With the tools at hand they could not supply the rapacious fires fastenough to keep up steam, and the engines slowed to a five-knot rate. Asthis would not maintain a sufficient tension on the dragging schoonerto steer by, they were forced to sacrifice the best item in their claimfor salvage: they spliced the tiller-ropes and steered from thepilot-house. They would have sacrificed the schooner, too, for Amoscomplained bitterly of the load on the engines; but Elisha would nothear of it. She was the last evidence in their favor now, their lastconnection with respectability. 

"She and the pavement o' h----l, " he growled fiercely, "are all we'vegot to back us up. Without proof we're pirates under the law. "

However, he made no entry in the log of the splicing, trusting that achance would come in port to remove the section of wire rope with whichthey had joined the broken ends. 

And, indeed, it seemed that their claim was dwindling. The chronometerwhich they were to use for the steamer's benefit was lost; the tow-linewhich they were to furnish had been given back to them; the course toNew York which they chalked out had not been accepted; the abandoningof their ship by the Englishmen was clearly enforced by the pressure oftheir own presence; and now they themselves had been forced to cancelfrom the claim the schooner's value as a necessary drag behind thesteamer, by substituting a three hours' splicing-job, worth fivedollars in a rigging-loft, and possibly fifty if bargained for at sea. Nothing was left them now but their good intentions, duly entered inthe log-book. 

But fate, and the stupid understanding of some one or two of them, decreed that their good intentions also should be taken from them. Thelog-book disappeared, and the strictest search failing to bring it tolight, the conclusion was reached that it had been fed to the firesamong the wreckage of the skipper's room and furniture. They blasphemedto the extent that the occasion required, and there was civil war for atime, while the suspected ones were being punished; then they drew whatremaining comfort they could from burning the steamer's log-book andtrack-chart, which contained data conflicting with their position inthe case, and resumed their labors. 

Martin had raked and scraped together enough of food to give them twoscant meals; but these eaten, starvation began. The details of theirsuffering need not be given. They chopped, hammered, and pried inhunger and anxiety, and with lessening strength, while the days passedby--fortunately spared the torture of thirst, for there was plenty ofwater in the tanks. Upheld by the dominating influence of Elisha, Martin, and Amos, they stripped the upper works and fed to the firesevery door and sash, every bulkhead and wooden partition, all chairs, stools, and tables, cabin berths and forecastle bunks. Then theyattempted sending down the topmasts, but gave it up for lack ofstrength to get mast-ropes aloft, and attacked instead the boats on thechocks, of which there were four. 

It was no part of the plan to ask help of passing craft and have theirdistressed condition taken advantage of; but when the hopelessness ofthe fight at last appealed to the master spirits, they consented to thesignaling of an east-bound steamer, far to the northward, in the hopeof getting food. So the English ensign, union down, was again flownfrom the gaff. It was at a time when Elisha could not stand up at thewheel, when Amos at the engines could not have reversed them, whenMartin--man of iron--staggered weakly around among the rest and struckthem with a pump-brake, keeping them at work. (They would strive underthe blows, and sit down when he had passed. ) But the flag was not seen;a haze arose between the two craft and thickened to fog. 

By Elisha's reckoning they were on the Banks now, about a hundred milesdue south from Cape Sable, and nearer to Boston than to Halifax;otherwise he might have made for the latter port and defied alienprejudice. But the fog continued, and it was not port they were lookingfor now; it was help, food: they were working for life, not salvage;and, wasting no steam, they listened for whistles or fog-horns, butheard none near enough to be answered by their weak voices. 

And so the boat, dragging the dismal mockery behind her, plodded andgroped her way on the course which Elisha had shaped for Boston, whileman after man dropped in his tracks, refusing to rise; and those thatwere left nourished the fires as they could, until the afternoon of thethird day of fog, when the thumping, struggling engines halted, started, made a half-revolution, and came to a dead stop. Amos crawledon deck and forward to the bridge, where, with Elisha's help, hedragged on the whistle-rope and dissipated the remaining steam in awheezy, gasping howl, which lasted about a half-minute. It was answeredby a furious siren-blast from directly astern; and out of the fog, attwenty knots an hour, came a mammoth black steamer. Seeming to heavethe small tramp out of the way with her bow wave, she roared by at sixfeet distance, and in ten seconds they were looking at her vanishingstern. But ten minutes later the stern appeared in view, as the linerbacked toward them. The reversed English ensign still hung at the gaff;and the starving men, some prostrate on the deck, some clinging to therails, unable to shout, had painted to the flag of distress andbeckoned as the big ship rushed by. 

 * * * * *

"There's a chance, " said the captain of this liner to the pilot, as herejoined him on the bridge an hour later, "of international complicationsover this case, and I may have to lose a trip to testify. That's the_Afghan Prince_ and consort that I was telling you about. Strange, isn't it, that I should pick up these fellows after picking up thelegitimate crew going east? I don't know which crew was the hungriest. The real crew charge this crowd with piracy. By George, it's ratherfunny!"

"And these men, " said the pilot, with a laugh, "would have claimedsalvage?"

"Yes, and had a good claim, too, for effort expended; but they'veoffset it by their violence. Their chance was good in the Englishcourts, if they'd only allowed the steamer to go on; and then, too, they abandoned her in a more dangerous position than where they foundher. You see, they met her off Nantucket with sea-room, and nothingwrong with her but broken tiller-ropes; and they quit her here close toSandy Hook, in a fog, more than likely to hit the beach before morning. Then, in that case, she belongs to the owners or underwriters. "

"Why didn't they make Boston?" asked the pilot. 

"Tried to, but overran their distance. Chronometer must have been 'wayout. I talked to the one who navigated, and found that he'd neverthought of allowing for local attraction, --didn't happen to run againstthe boat's deviation table, --and so, with all that railway iron belowhatches, he fetched clear o' Nantucket, and 'way in here. "

"That's tough. The salvage of that steamer would make them rich, wouldn't it? And I think they might have got it if they could have heldout. "

"Yes; think they might. But here's another funny thing about it. Theyneedn't have starved. They needn't have chopped her to pieces for fuel. I just remember, now. Her skipper told me there was good anthracitecoal in her hold, and Chicago canned meats, Minnesota flour, beef, pork, and all sorts of good grub. He carried some of the rails in the'tween-deck for steadying ballast, and I suppose it prevented themlooking farther. And now they'll lose their salvage, and perhaps haveto pay it on their own schooner if anything comes along and picks themup. That's the craft that'll get the salvage. "

"Not likely, " said the pilot; "not in this fog, and the wind and searising. I'll give 'em six hours to fetch up on the Jersey coast. A mailcontract with the government is sometimes a nuisance, isn't it, captain? How many years would it take you to save money to equal yourshare of the salvage if you had yanked that tramp and the schooner intoNew York?"

"It would take more than one lifetime, " answered the captain, a littlesadly. "A skipper on a mail-boat is the biggest fool that goes to sea. "

The liner did not reach quarantine until after sundown, hence remainedthere through the night. As she was lifting her anchor in the morning, preparatory to steaming up to her dock, the crew of the _Rosebud_, refreshed by food and sleep, but still weak and nerveless, came on deckto witness a harrowing sight. The _Afghan Prince_ was coming toward theanchorage before a brisk southeast wind. Astern of her, held by theheavy iron chain, was their schooner. Moored to her, one on each side, were two garbage-scows; and at the head of the parade, pretending totow them all, --puffing, rolling, and smoking in the effort to keep astrain on the tow-line, --and tooting joyously with her whistle, was alittle, dingy tugboat, with a large gilt name on her pilot-house--_J. C. Hawks_. 

BETWEEN THE MILLSTONES

He stood before the recruiting officer, trembling with nervousness, anxious of face, and clothed in rags; but he was clean, for, knowingthe moral effect of cleanliness, he had lately sought the beach andtaken a swim. 

"Want to enlist?" asked the officer, taking his measure with trainedeye. 

"Yes, sir; I read you wanted men in the navy. "

"Want seamen, firemen, and landsmen. What's your occupation? You looklike a tramp. "

"Yes, " he answered bitterly, "I'm a tramp. That's all they'd let me be. I used to be a locomotive engineer--before the big strike. Then theyblacklisted me, and I've never had a job above laborin' work since. It's easy to take to the road and stay at it when you find you can'tmake over a dollar a day at back-breakin' work after earnin' three andfour at the throttle. An engineer knows nothin' but his trade, sir. Take it away, and he's a laborin' man. 

"I'd ha' worked and learned another, but they jailed me--put me inchoky, 'cause I had no visible means o' support. I had no money, andwas a criminal under the law. And they kept at it, --jailed me again andagain as a vagrant, --when all I wanted was work. After a while I didn'tcare. But now's my chance, sir, if you'll take me on. I don't know muchabout boats and the sea, but I can fire an engine, and know somethingabout steam. "

"A fireman's work on board a war-vessel is very different from that ofa locomotive fireman, " said the officer, leaning back in his chair. 

"I know, sir; that may be, " the tramp replied eagerly; "but I canshovel coal, and I can learn, and I can work. I'm not very strong now, 'cause I haven't had much to eat o' late years; but I'm not a drinkin'man--why, that costs more than grub. Give me a chance, sir; I'm anAmerican; I'm sick o' bein' hunted from jail to jail, like a wildanimal, just 'cause I can't be satisfied with pick-and-shovel work. I've spent half o' the last five years in jail as a vagrant. I put in amonth at Fernandina, and then I was chased out o' town. They gave metwo months at Cedar Keys, and I came here, only to get a month more inthis jail. I got out this mornin', and was told by the copper whopinched me to get out o' Pensacola or he'd run me in again. And he'soutside now waitin' for me. I dodged past 'im to get in. "

"Pass this man in to the surgeon, " said the officer, with somethinglike a sympathetic snort in the tone of his voice; for he also was anAmerican. 

An orderly escorted him to the surgeon, who examined him and passedhim. Then the recruit signed his name to a paper. 

"Emaciated, " wrote the surgeon in his daily report; "body badlynourished, and susceptible to any infection. Shows slight febrilesymptoms, which should be attended to. An intelligent man; with goodfood and care will become valuable. "

The tramp marched to the receiving-ship with a squad of other recruits, and on the way smiled triumphantly into the face of a mulattopoliceman, who glared at him. He had signed his name on a piece ofpaper, and the act had changed his status. From a hunted fugitive andhabitual criminal he had become a defender of his country's honor--apotential hero. 

On board the receiving-ship he was given an outfit of clothes andbedding; but before he had learned more than the correct way to lashhis hammock and tie his silk neckerchief he was detailed for sea duty, and with a draft of men went to Key West in a navy-yard tug; for warwas on, and the fleet blockading Havana needed men. 

At Key West he was appointed fireman on a torpedo-boat, where hiswork--which he soon learned--was to keep up steam in a tubular boiler. But he learned nothing of the rest of the boat, her business, or thereason of her construction. Seasickness prevented any assertion ofcuriosity at first, and later the febrile symptoms which the examiningsurgeon had noted developed in him until he could think of nothingelse. There being no doctor aboard to diagnose his case, he was jeeredby his fellows, and kept at work until he dropped; then he took to hishammock. Shooting pains darted through him, centering in his head, while his throat was dry and his thirst tormenting. 

Life on a torpedo-boat engaged in despatch duty and rushing through aGulf Stream sea at thirty knots is torture to a healthy, nervoussystem. It sent this sick man into speedy delirium. He could eat verylittle, but he drank all the water that was given him. Moaning andmuttering, tossing about in his hammock, never asleep, but sometimesunconscious, at other times raving, and occasionally lucid, hepresented a problem which demanded solution. His emaciated face, flushed at first, had taken on a peculiar bronzed appearance, and therewere some who declared that it was Yellow Jack. But nothing could bedone until they reached the fleet and could interview a cruiser with asurgeon. 

The sick man solved the problem. He scrambled out of his hammock atdaylight in the morning and dressed himself in his blue uniform, carefully tying his black neckerchief in the regulation knot. Then, muttering the while, he gained the deck. 

The boat was charging along at full speed, throwing aside a bow wavenearly as high as herself. Three miles astern, just discernible in thehalf-light, was a pursuing ram-bowed gunboat, spitting shot and shell;and forward near the conning-tower were two blue-coated, brass-buttonedofficers, watching the pursuer through binoculars. 

The crazed brain of the sick man took cognizance of nothing but theblue coats and brass buttons. He did not look for locust clubs andsilver shields. These were policemen--his deadliest enemies; but hewould escape them this time. 

With a yell he went overboard, and, being no swimmer, would havedrowned had not one of the blue-coated officers flung a lifebuoy. Hecame to the surface somewhat saner, and seized the white ring, whichsupported him, while the torpedo-boat rushed on. She could not stop forone man in time of war, with a heavily armed enemy so near. 

A twenty-knot gunboat cannot chase a thirty-knot torpedo-boat very longwithout losing her below the horizon; but this pursuit lasted tenminutes from the time the sick man went overboard before the gunboatceased firing and slackened speed. The quarry was five miles away, outof Spanish range, and the floating man directly under her bow. He wasseen and taken on board, with Spanish profanity sounding in hisunregarding ears. 

He lay on the deck, a bedraggled heap, gibbering and shivering, while asurgeon, with cotton in his nostrils and smelling-salts in his hand, diagnosed his case. Then the gunboat headed north and dropped anchor inthe bight of a small, crescent-shaped sand-key of the Florida Reef. Forthe diagnosis was such as to suggest prompt action. Two brave menbundled him into the dinghy, lowered it, pulled ashore, and laid him onthe sand. 

Returning, they stripped and threw away their clothing, sank the boatwith a buoy on the painter, took a swim, and climbed aboard to befurther disinfected. Then the gunboat lifted her anchor and steamedeastward, her officers watching through glasses a small, lowtorpedo-boat, far to the southeast, --too far to be reached by gunfire, --which was steering a parallel course, and presumably watchingthe gunboat. 

An idiot, a lunatic, with bloodshot eyes glaring from a yellow face, raved, rolled, and staggered bareheaded under the sun about the sandycrescent until sundown, then fell prostrate and unconscious into thewater on the beach, luckily turning over so that his nostrils were notimmersed. The tide went down, leaving him damp and still on the sands. In about an hour a sigh, followed by a deep, gasping breath, escapedhim; another long inhalation succeeded, and another; then came steady, healthy breathing and childlike sleep, with perspiration oozing fromevery pore. He had passed a crisis. 

About midnight the cloudy sky cleared and the tropic stars came out, while the tide climbed the beach again, and lapped at the sleepingman's feet; but he did not waken, even when the Spanish gunboat stoleslowly into the bay from the sea and dropped anchor with a loudrattling of chain in the hawse-pipe. A boat was lowered, and a singleman sculled it ashore; then lifting out a small cask and bag, he placedthem high on the sands and looked around. 

Spying the sleeping man, half immersed now, he approached and felt ofthe damp clothing and equally damp face. Not noticing that he breathedsoftly, the man crossed himself, then moved quickly and nervouslytoward his boat, muttering, "Muerto, muerto!" Pushing out, he sculledrapidly toward the anchored craft, and disposed of the boat and hisclothing as had been done before; then he swam to the gangway andclimbed aboard. 

Shortly after, the sleeping man, roused by the chill of the water, crawled aimlessly up the sand and slept again--safe beyond thetide-line. In three hours he sat up and rubbed his eyes, half awake, but sane. 

Strange sights and sounds puzzled him. He knew nothing of this starlitbeach and stretch of sparkling water--nothing of that long black craftat anchor, with the longer beam of white light reaching over the seafrom her pilot-house. He could only surmise that she was a war-vesselfrom the ram-bow, --a feature of the government model which hadimpressed him at Key West, --and from the noise she was making. Shequivered in a maze of flickering red flashes, and the rattling din ofher rapid-fire and machine guns transcended in volume all the roadsideblastings he had heard in his wanderings. Dazed and astonished, he roseto his feet, but, too weak to stand, sat down again and looked. 

Half a mile seaward, where the beam of light ended, a small craft, lowdown between two crested waves, was speeding toward the gunboat in theface of her fire. The water about her was lashed into turmoil by thehail of projectiles; but she kept on, at locomotive speed, until withina thousand feet of the gunboat, when she turned sharply to starboard, doubled on her track, and raced off to sea, still covered by thesearch-light and followed by shot and shell while the gunners could seeher. 

When the gun fire ceased, a hissing of steam could be heard in thedistance, and a triumphant Spanish yell answered. The small enemy hadbeen struck, and the gunboat slipped her cable and followed. 

The tired brain could not cope with the problem, and again the manslept, to awaken at sunrise with ravenous hunger and thirst, and amemory of what seemed to be horrible dreams, --vague recollections ofpainful experiences, --torturing labor with aching muscles and blisteredhands; harsh words and ridicule from strong, bearded men; and runningthrough and between, the shadowy figures of blue-coated, brass-buttonedmen, continually ordering him on, and threatening arrest. The spectacleof the night was as dream-like as the rest; for he remembered nothingof the gunboat which had rescued and marooned him. 

His face had lost its yellowish-bronze color, but was pale andemaciated as ever, while his sunken eyes held the soft light whichalways comes of extreme physical suffering. He was too weak to remainon his feet, but in the effort to do so he spied the cask and baghigher up on the beach and crawled to them. Prying a plug from thebunghole with his knife, he found water, sweet and delicious, which hedrank by rolling the cask carefully and burying his lips in theoverflow. Evidently some one in authority on the gunboat had decreedthat he should not die of hunger or thirst, for the bag contained hardbread. 

Stronger after a meal, he climbed the highest sand-dune and studied thesituation. An outcropping of coral formed the backbone of the thincrescent which held him, and which was about half a mile between thepoints. To the south, opening out from the bay, was a clear stretch ofsea, green in the sunlight, deep blue in the shadows of the clouds, andon the horizon were a few sails and smoke columns. West and east wereother sandy islets and coral reefs, and to the north a continuous lineof larger islands which might be inhabited, but gave no indication ofit. 

Out in the bay, bobbing to the heave of the slight ground-swell, werethe three white buoys left by the Spaniards to mark the sunken boatsand slipped cable; and far away on the beach, just within the westernpoint, was something long and round, which rolled in the gentle surfand glistened in the sunlight. He knew nothing of buoys, but theyrelieved his loneliness; they were signs of human beings, who must haveplaced him there with the bread and water, and who might come for him. 

"Wonder if I got pinched again, and this is some new kind of a choky, "he mused. "Been blamed sick and silly, and must ha' lost the job andgot jailed again. Just my luck! S'pose the jug was crowded and they runme out here. Wish they'd left me a hat. Wonder how long I'm in for thistime. "

He descended to the beach and found that repeated wettings of his hairrelieved him from the headache that the sun's heat was bringing on; andsatisfied that the strong hand of local law had again closed over him, he resigned himself to the situation, resenting only the absence of ashade-tree or a hat. "Much better 'n the calaboose in El Paso, " hemuttered, "or the brickyard in Chicago. "

As he lolled on the sand, the glistening thing over at the westernpoint again caught his eye. After a moment's scrutiny he rose andlimped toward it, following the concave of the beach, and often pausingto rest and bathe his head. It was a long journey for him, and thetide, at half-ebb when he started, was rising again when he cameabreast of the object and sat down to look at it. It was of metal, longand round, rolling nearly submerged, and held by the alternate surf andundertow parallel with the beach, about twenty feet out. 

He waded in, grasped it by a T-shaped projection in the middle, andheaded it toward the shore. Then he launched it forward with all hisstrength--not much, but enough to lift a bluntly pointed end out ofwater as it grounded and exposed a small, four-bladed steel wheel, shaped something like a windmill. He examined this, but could notunderstand it, as it whirled freely either way and seemed to have nointernal connection. The strange cylinder was about sixteen feet longand about eighteen inches in diameter. 

"Boat o' some kind, " he muttered; "but what kind? That screw's toosmall to make it go. Let's see the other end. "

He launched it with difficulty, and noticed that when floating end onto the surf it ceased to roll and kept the T-shaped projectionuppermost, proving that it was ballasted. Swinging it, he grounded theother end, which was radically different in appearance. It was long andfinely pointed, with four steel blades or vanes, two horizontal and twovertical, --like the double tails of an ideal fish, --and in hollowedparts of these vanes were hung a pair of unmistakable propellers, onebehind the other, and of opposite pitch and motion. 

"One works on the shaft, t' other on a sleeve, " he mused, as he turnedthem. "A roundhouse wiper could see that. Bevel-gearin' inside, Iguess. It's a boat, sure enough, and this reverse action must be tokeep her from rolling. "

On each of the four vanes he found a small blade, showing by itsconnection that it possessed range of action, yet immovable as the vaneitself, as though held firmly by inner leverage. Those on thehorizontal vanes were tilted upward. Just abaft the T-shapedprojection--which, fastened firmly to the hull, told him nothing of itspurpose--were numerous brass posts buried flush with the surface, ineach of which was a square hole, as though intended to be turned with akey or crank. Some were marked with radiating lines and numbers, andthey evidently controlled the inner mechanism, part of which he couldsee--little brass cog-wheels, worms, and levers--through a fore-and-aftslot near the keyholes. 

Rising from the forward end of this slot, and lying close to the metalhull in front of it, was a strong lever of brass, L-shaped, connectedinternally, and indicating to his trained mechanical mind that its onlysphere of action was to lift up and sink back into the slot. Hefingered it, but did not yet try to move it. A little to the left ofthis lever was a small blade of steel, curved to fit the convexhull, --which it hugged closely, --and hinged at its forward edge. This, too, must have a purpose, --an internal connection, --and he did notdisturb it until he had learned more. 

To the right of the brass lever was an oblong hatch about eight incheslong, flush with the hull, and held in place by screws. Three seams, with lines of screws, encircled the round hull, showing that it wasconstructed in four sections; and these screws, with those in thehatch, were strong and numerous--placed there to stay. 

Fatigued from his exertion, he moistened his hair, sat down, andwatched the incoming tide swing the craft round parallel with thebeach. As the submerged bow raised to a level with the stern, henoticed that the small blades on the horizontal vanes dropped fromtheir upward slant to a straight line with the vanes. 

"Rudders, " he said, "horizontal rudders. Can't be anything else. " Withhis chin in his hand and his wrinkled brow creased with deepercorrugations, he put his mind through a process of inductive reasoning. 

"Horizontal rudders, " he mused, "must be to keep her from diving, or tomake her dive. They work automatically, and I s'pose the verticalrudders are the same. There's nothing outside to turn 'em with. Thatboat isn't made to ride in, --no way to get into her, --and she isn't bigenough, anyhow. And as you can't get into her, that brass lever must bewhat starts and stops her. Wonder what the steel blade's for. 'T isn'ta handy shape for a lever, --to be handled with fingers, --too sharp; butit has work to do, or it wouldn't be there. That section o' railroadiron on top must be to hang the boat by, --a traveler, --when she's outo' water. 

"And the fan-wheel on the nose--what's that for? If it's a speed ordistance indicator, the dial's inside, out o' sight. There's noexhaust, so the motive power can't be steam. Clockwork or electricity, maybe. Mighty fine workmanship all through! That square door is fittedin for keeps, and she must ha' cost a heap. Now, as she has horizontalrudders, she's intended to steer up and down; and as there's no way toget into her or to stay on her, and as she can't be started from theinside or steered from the outside, I take it she's a model o' one o'those submarine boats I've heard of--some fellow's invention that's gotaway from him. Guess I'll try that lever and see what happens. I'llbury the propellers, though; no engine ought to race. "

He pushed the craft into deeper water, pointed it shoreward, andcautiously lifted the curved blade to a perpendicular position, as highas it would go. Nothing happened. He lowered it, raised it again, --itworked very easily, --then, leaving it upright, he threw the long brasslever back into the slot. A slight humming came from within, thepropellers revolved slowly, and the craft moved ahead until the bowgrounded. Then he followed and lifted the lever out of the slot to itsfirst position, shutting off the power. 

Delighted with his success, he backed it out farther than before andagain threw back the brass lever, this time with the curved blade downflat on the hull. With the sinking of the lever into the slot themechanism within gave forth a rushing sound, the propellers at thestern threw up a mound of foam, and the craft shot past him, diveduntil it glanced on the sandy bottom, then slid a third of its lengthout of water on the beach and stopped, the propellers still churning, and the small wheel on the nose still spinning with the motion given itby the water. 

"Air-pressure!" he exclaimed, as he shut it off. He had seen a line ofbubbles rise as the thing dived. "An air-engine, and the whole thingmust be full o' compressed air. The brass lever turns it on, and if thesteel blade's up it gives it the slow motion; if it's down, she getsfull speed at once. Now I know why it's blade-shaped. It's so the wateritself can push it down--after she starts. "

He did not try to launch it; he waited until the tide floated it, thenpushed it along the beach toward his store of food, arriving at highwater too exhausted to do more that day than ground his capture andbreak hard bread. And as the afternoon drew to a close the fatigue inhis limbs became racking pain; either as a result of his exposure, oras a later symptom of the fever, he was now in the clutch of a newenemy--rheumatism. 

Then, with the coming of night came a return of his first violentsymptoms; he was hot, shivery, and feverish by turns, with dry tongueand throat, and a splitting headache; but in this condition he couldstill take cognizance of a black, ram-bowed gunboat, which stole intothe bay from the east and dropped anchor near the buoys. 

A half-moon shone in the western sky, and by its light the steamerpresented an unkempt, broken appearance, even to the untrained eye ofthis castaway. Her after-funnel was but half as high as the other;there were gaps in her iron rail, and vacancies below the twisteddavits where boats should be; and her pilot-house was wrecked--thestarboard door and nearest window merged in a large, ragged hole. 

Officers on the bridge gave orders in foreign speech, in tones whichcame shoreward faintly. Men sprang overboard with ropes, which theyfastened to the buoys; then they swam back, and for an hour or two thewhole crew was busy getting the boats to the davits and the end of thecable into the hawse-pipe. 

The man on the beach recognized the craft he had seen when he wakened. 

He felt that she must in some way be connected with his being there, and he waited, expecting to see a boat put off; but when both boatswere hoisted and he heard the humming of a steam-windlass, he gave upthis expectation and tried to hail. 

His voice could not rise above a hoarse whisper. The anchor was fished, and after an interval he heard the windlass again, heaving in the otherchain. They were going away--going to leave him there to die. 

He crawled and stumbled down to the water's edge. The tide was upagain, rippling around the strange thing he had resolved to navigate. It was not a boat, but it would go ahead, and it would float--it wouldpossibly float him. 

With strength born of desperation and fear, he pushed it, inch by inch, into the water until it was clear of the sand, and tried the engine onthe slow motion. The propellers turned and satisfied him. He shut offthe power, swung the thing round until it pointed toward the steamer, and seated himself astride of it, just abaft the T-shaped projection inthe middle. The long cylinder sank with him, and when it had steadiedto a balance between his weight and its buoyancy he found that it borehim, shoulders out; and the position he had taken--within reach of thelevers behind him--lifted the blunt nose higher than the stern, but notout of water. This was practicable. 

He reached behind, raised the blade lever, threw back the large brasslever, and the craft went ahead, at about the speed of a healthy man'swalk. He kept his left hand on the blade lever to hold it up, and byskilful paddling with his right maintained his balance and assisted hislegs in steering. He had never learned to swim, but he felt less fearof drowning than of slow death on the island. 

In five minutes he was near enough to the steamer to read her name. Hepulled the starting-lever forward, stopping his headway; for he must besure of his welcome. 

"Say, boss, " he called faintly and hoarsely, "take me along, can't you?Or else gi' me some medicine. I'm blamed sick--I'll die if I stayhere. "

The noise of the windlass and chain prevented this being heard, but atlast, after repeated calls on his part, a Spanish howl went up fromamidships, and a sailor sprang from one of the boats to the deck, crossed himself, and pointing to the man in the water, ran forward. 

"Madre de Dios!" he yelled. "El aparecido del muerto. "

Work stopped, and a call down a hatchway stopped the windlass. In portsand dead-lights appeared faces; and those on deck, officers and men, crowded to the rail, some to cross themselves, some to sink on theirknees, others to grip the rail tightly, while they stared in silence atthe torso and livid face in the moonlight on the sea--the ghastly faceof the man they had marooned to die alone, who had been seen later deadon the beach. 

"Take me with you, boss, " he pleaded with his weak voice. "I'm sick; Ican't hold on much longer. "

It was not the dead man's body washed out from the beach, for it moved, it spoke. And it was not a living man; no man may recover from advancedyellow fever, and this man had been found afterward, dead--cold andstill. And no living man may swim in this manner--high out of water, patting and splashing with one hand. It was a ghost. It had come topunish them. 

"Por qué nos atormentan así, hombre, deja?" cried a white-facedofficer. 

"Can't you hear me?" asked the apparition. "I'll come closer. "

He threw back the starting-lever, and the thing began moving. Then arifle-barrel protruded from a dead-light. There was a report and aflash, and a bullet passed through his hair. The shock startled him, and he lost his balance. In the effort to recover it his leg knockeddown the blade lever, and the steel cylinder sprang forward, leavinghim floundering in the water. Pointed upward, it appeared for a momenton the surface, then dived like a porpoise and disappeared. In fiveseconds something happened to the gunboat. 

Coincident with a sound like near-by thunder, the black craft liftedamidships like a bending jack-knife, and up from the shattered deck, and out from ports, doors, and dead-lights, came a volcano of flame andsmoke. The sea beneath followed in a mound, which burst like a greatbubble, sending a cloud of steam and spray and whitish-yellow smokealoft to mingle with the first and meet the falling fragments. Thesefell for several seconds--hatches, gratings, buckets, ladders, splinters of wood, parts of men, and men whole, but limp. 

A side-ladder fell near the choking and half-stunned sick man, and heseized it. Before he could crawl on top the two halves of the gunboathad sunk in a swirl of bubbles and whirlpools. 

A few broken and bleeding swimmers approached to share his support, sawhis awful face in the moonlight, and swam away. 

A few hours later a gray cruiser loomed up close by and directed asearch-light at him. Then a gray cutter full of white-clad menapproached and took him off the ladder. He was delirious again, andbleeding from mouth, nose, and ears. 

 * * * * *

The surgeon and the torpedo-lieutenant came up from the sick-bay, thelatter with enthusiasm on his face, --for he was young, --and joined agroup of officers on the quarterdeck. 

"He'll pull through, gentlemen, " said the surgeon. "He is the manMosher lost overboard, though he doesn't know anything about it, norhow he got on that sand-key. I suppose the _Destructor_ picked himup and landed him. He found bread and water, he says. You see, thefirst symptoms are similar in Yellow Jack and relapsing bilious fever. I don't wonder that Mosher was nervous. "

"Then it _was_ the _Destructor_?" asked an ensign, pulling out anote-book and a pencil. "And Lieutenant Mosher was right, after all?"

"Yes; this man read her name before she blew up; and a Spanish sailorhas waked up and confirmed it. She was the _Destructor_, just over, andtrying to get into Havana. Instead of blowing up in Algeciras Bay, asthey thought, she had left with despatches for Havana, only to blow upon the Florida Reef. "

"The _Destructor_, " said the ensign, as he pocketed his note-book andpencil, "carried fifty-five men. Don't we get the bounty as the nearestcraft?"

"Not much, " said the young and enthusiastic torpedo-lieutenant. "Wewere not even within signal distance, and came along by accident. Listen, all of you. When an American war-craft sinks or destroys alarger enemy, there is a bounty due her crew of two hundred dollars forevery man on board the enemy. That is law, isn't it?" They nodded. "Ifa submarine boat can be a war-craft, so may a Whitehead torpedo, andcertainly is one, being built for war. A war-craft abandoned is aderelict, and the man who finds her becomes her lawful commander forthe time. If he belongs to the navy his position is strengthened, andif he is alone he is not only commander, but the whole crew, andconsequently he is entitled to all the bounty she may earn. That islaw. 

"Now, listen hard. Lieutenant Mosher sent one torpedo at the gunboat;it missed and became derelict, while Mosher escaped under one boiler. This man found the derelict adrift, puzzled out the action, waiteduntil the gunboat came back for her anchor, then straddled his craft, and rode out with the water-tripper up. They shot at him. He turned hisdog loose and destroyed the enemy. If the _Destructor_ carriedfifty-five men he is entitled to eleven thousand dollars, and thegovernment must pay, for that is law. "

THE BATTLE OF THE MONSTERS

Extract from hospital record of the case of John Anderson, patient ofDr. Brown, Ward 3, Room 6:

 August 3. Arrived at hospital in extreme mental distress, having been bitten on wrist three hours previously by dog known to have been rabid. Large, strong man, full-blooded and well nourished. Sanguine temperament. Pulse and temperature higher than normal, due to excitement. Cauterized wound at once (2 P. M. ) and inoculated with antitoxin. 

 As patient admits having recently escaped, by swimming ashore, from lately arrived cholera ship, now at quarantine, he has been isolated and clothing disinfected. Watch for symptoms of cholera. 

 August 3, 6 P. M. Microscopic examination of blood corroborative of Metschnikoff's theory of fighting leucocytes. White corpuscles gorged with bacteria. 

He was an amphibian, and, as such, undeniably beautiful; for thesunlight, refracted and diffused in the water, gave his translucent, pearl-blue body all the shifting colors of the spectrum. Vigorous andgraceful of movement, in shape he resembled a comma of threedimensions, twisted, when at rest, to a slight spiral curve; but intraveling he straightened out with quick successive jerks, each onesending him ahead a couple of lengths. Supplemented by the undulatorymovement of a long continuation of his tail, it was his way ofswimming, good enough to enable him to escape his enemies; this, andriding at anchor in a current by his cable-like appendage, constitutinghis main occupation in life. The pleasure of eating was denied him;nature had given him a mouth, but he used it only for purposes ofoffense and defense, absorbing his food in a most unheard-ofmanner--through the soft walls of his body. 

Yet he enjoyed a few social pleasures. Though the organs of the fivesenses were missing in his economy, he possessed an inner sixth sensewhich answered for all and also gave him power of speech. He wouldconverse, swap news and views, with creatures of his own and otherspecies, provided that they were of equal size and prowess; but hewasted no time on any but his social peers. Smaller creatures hepursued when they annoyed him; larger ones pursued him. 

The sunlight, which made him so beautiful to look at, was distastefulto him; it also made him too visible. He preferred a half-darkness andless fervor to life's battle--time to judge of chances, to figure on anenemy's speed and turning-circle, before beginning flight or pursuit. But his dislike of it really came of a stronger animus--a shudderingrecollection of three hours once passed on dry land in a comatosecondition, which had followed a particularly long and intense period ofbright sunlight. He had never been able to explain the connection, butthe awful memory still saddened his life. 

And now it seemed, as he swam about, that this experience might berepeated. The light was strong and long-continued, the wateruncomfortably warm, and the crowd about him denser--so much so as toprevent him from attending properly to a social inferior who hadcrossed his bow. But just as his mind grasped the full imminence of thedanger, there came a sudden darkness, a crash and vibration of thewater, then a terrible, rattling roar of sound. The social inferiorslipped from his mouth, and with his crowding neighbors was washed faraway, while he felt himself slipping along, bounding and reboundingagainst the projections of a corrugated wall which showed white in thegloom. There was an unpleasant taste to the water, and he became awareof creatures in his vicinity unlike any he had known, --quickly dartinglittle monsters about a tenth as large as himself, --thousands of them, black and horrid to see, each with short, fish-like body and squarehead like that of a dog; with wicked mouth that opened and shutnervously; with hooked flippers on the middle part, and a bunch oftentacles on the fore that spread out ahead and around. A dozen of themsurrounded him menacingly; but he was young and strong, much largerthan they, and a little frightened. A blow of his tail killed two, andthe rest drew off. 

The current bore them on until the white wall rounded off and was lostto sight beyond the mass of darting creatures. Here was slack water, and with desperate effort he swam back, pushing the small enemies outof his path, meeting some resistance and receiving a few bites, until, in a hollow in the wall, he found temporary refuge and time to think. But he could not solve the problem. He had not the slightest idea wherehe was or what had happened--who and what were the strange blackcreatures, or why they had threatened him. 

His thoughts were interrupted. Another vibrant roar sounded, and therewas pitch-black darkness; then he was pushed and washed away from hisshelter, jostled, bumped, and squeezed, until he found himself in adimly lighted tunnel, which, crowded as it was with swimmers, wasnarrow enough to enable him to see both sides at once. The walls weredark brown and blue, broken up everywhere into depressions or caves, some of them so deep as to be almost like blind tunnels. The dog-facedcreatures were there--as far as he could see; but besides them, now, were others, of stranger shape--of species unknown to him. 

A slow current carried them on, and soon they entered a larger tunnel. He swam to the opposite wall, gripped a projection, and watched inwonder and awe the procession gliding by. He soon noticed the source ofthe dim light. A small creature with barrel-like body and innumerablelegs or tentacles, wavering and reaching, floated past. Its bodyswelled and shrank alternately, with every swelling giving out aphosphorescent glow, with every contraction darkening to a faint redcolor. Then came a group of others; then a second living lamp; lateranother and another: they were evenly distributed, and illumined thetunnel. 

There were monstrous shapes, living but inert, barely pulsing withdormant life, as much larger than himself as the dog-headed kind weresmaller--huge, unwieldy, disk-shaped masses of tissue, light gray atthe margins, dark red in the middle. They were in the majority, andblocked the view. Darting and wriggling between and about them werehorrible forms, some larger than himself, others smaller. There wereserpents, who swam with a serpent's motion. Some were serpents in form, but were curled rigidly into living corkscrews, and by sculling withtheir tails screwed their way through the water with surprisingrapidity. Others were barrel- or globe-shaped, with swarming tentacles. With these they pulled themselves along, in and out through the crowd, or, bringing their squirming appendages rearward, --each an individualsnake, --used them as propellers, and swam. There were creatures in theform of long cylinders, some with tentacles by which they rolled alonglike a log in a tideway; others, without appendages, were as inert andhelpless as the huge red-and-gray disks. He saw four ball-shapedcreatures float by, clinging together; then a group of eight, then oneof twelve. All these, to the extent of their volition, seemed to be ina state of extreme agitation and excitement. 

The cause was apparent. The tunnel from which he had come was stilldischarging the dog-faced animals by the thousand, and he knew now thebusiness they were on. It was war--war to the death. They flungthemselves with furious energy into the parade, fighting and biting allthey could reach. A hundred at a time would pounce on one of the largered-and-gray creatures, almost hiding it from view; then, and beforethey had passed out of sight, they would fall off and disperse, and theonce living victim would come with them, in parts. The smaller, activeswimmers fled, but if one was caught, he suffered; a quick dart, atangle of tentacles, an embrace of the wicked flippers, a bite--and adead body floated on. 

And now into the battle came a ponderous engine of vengeance anddefense. A gigantic, lumbering, pulsating creature, white andtranslucent but for the dark, active brain showing through its walls, horrible in the slow, implacable deliberation of its movements, floateddown with the current. It was larger than the huge red-and-graycreatures. It was formless, in the full irony of the definition--for itassumed all forms. It was long--barrel-shaped; it shrank to a sphere, then broadened laterally, and again extended above and below. In turnit was a sphere, a disk, a pyramid, a pentahedron, a polyhedron. Itpossessed neither legs, flippers, nor tentacles; but out from itsheaving, shrinking body it would send, now from one spot, now fromanother, an active arm, or feeler, with which it swam, pulled, orpushed. An unlucky invader which one of them touched made few morevoluntary movements; for instantly the whole side of the whitish massbristled with arms. They seized, crushed, killed it, and then pushed itbodily through the living walls to the animal's interior to serve forfood. And the gaping fissure healed at once, like the wounds ofMilton's warring angels. 

The first white monster floated down, killing as he went; then cameanother, pushing eagerly into the fray; then came two, then three, thendozens. It seemed that the word had been passed, and the army ofdefense was mustering. 

Sick with horror, he watched the grim spectacle from the shelter of theprojection, until roused to an active sense of danger to himself--butnot from the fighters. He was anchored by his tail, swinging easily inthe eddy, and now felt himself touched from beneath, again from above. A projection down-stream was extending outward and toward him. The cavein which he had taken refuge was closing on him like a great mouth--asthough directed by an intelligence behind the wall. With a terrifiedflirt of his tail he flung himself out, and as he drifted down with thecombat the walls of the cave crunched together. It was well for himthat he was not there. 

The current was clogged with fragments of once living creatures, andeverywhere, darting, dodging, and biting, were the fierce blackinvaders. But they paid no present attention to him or to the smalltentacled animals. They killed the large, helpless red-and-gray kind, and were killed by the larger white monsters, each moment marking thedeath and rending to fragments of a victim, and the horrid interment offully half his slayers. The tunnel grew larger, as mouth after mouth oftributary tunnels was passed; but as each one discharged its quota ofswimming and drifting creatures, there was no thinning of the crowd. 

As he drifted on with the inharmonious throng, he noticed what seemedthe objective of the war. This was the caves which lined the tunnel. Some were apparently rigid, others were mobile. A large red-and-grayanimal was pushed into the mouth of one of the latter, and the wallsinstantly closed; then they opened, and the creature drifted out, limpand colorless, but alive; and with him came fragments of the wall, broken off by the pressure. This happened again and again, but thelarge creature was never quite killed--merely squeezed. The tentaclednon-combatants and the large white fighters seemed to know the dangerof these tunnel mouths, possibly from bitter experiences, for theyavoided the walls; but the dog-faced invaders sought this death, andonly fought on their way to the caves. Sometimes two, often four ormore, would launch themselves together into a hollow, but to no avail;their united strength could not prevent the closing in of themechanical maw, and they were crushed and flung out, to drift on withother debris. 

Soon the walls could not be seen for the pushing, jostling crowd, buteverywhere the terrible, silent war went on until there came a timewhen fighting ceased; for each must look out for himself. They seemedto be in an immense cave, and the tide was broken into cross-currentsrushing violently to the accompaniment of rhythmical thunder. They wereshaken, jostled, pushed about and pushed together, hundreds of thesmaller creatures dying from the pressure. Then there was a moment ofcomparative quiet, during which fighting was resumed, and there couldbe seen the swiftly flying walls of a large tunnel. Next they wererushed through a labyrinth of small caves with walls of curious, branching formation, sponge-like and intricate. It required energeticeffort to prevent being caught in the meshes, and the largered-and-gray creatures were sadly torn and crushed, while the whiteones fought their way through by main strength. Again the flying wallsof a tunnel, again a mighty cave, and the cross-currents, and therhythmical thunder, and now a wild charge down an immense tunnel, thewall of which surged outward and inward, in unison with the roaring ofthe thunder. 

The thunder died away in the distance, though the walls stillsurged--even those of a smaller tunnel which divided the current andreceived them. Down-stream the tunnel branched again and again, andwith the lessening of the diameter was a lessening of the current'svelocity, until, in a maze of small, short passages, the invaders, content to fight and kill in the swifter tide, again attacked thecaves. 

But to the never-changing result: they were crushed, mangled, and castout, the number of suicides, in this neighborhood, largely exceedingthose killed by the white warriors. And yet, in spite of the largemortality among them, the attacking force was increasing. Where onedied two took his place; and the reason was soon made plain--they werereproducing. A black fighter, longer than his fellows, a littlesluggish of movement, as though from the restrictive pressure of alarge, round protuberance in his middle, which made him resemble asnake which had swallowed an egg, was caught by a white monster andinstantly embraced by a multitude of feelers. He struggled, bit, andbroke in two; then the two parts escaped the grip of the astonishedcaptor, and wriggled away, the protuberance becoming the head of therear portion, which immediately joined the fight, snapping and bitingwith unmistakable jaws. This phenomenon was repeated. 

And on went the battle. Illumined by the living lamps, and watched byterrified non-combatants, the horrid carnival continued withnever-slacking fury and ever-changing background--past the mouths oftributary tunnels which increased the volume and velocity of thecurrent and added to the fighting strength, on through wideningarchways to a repetition of the cross-currents, the thunder, and thesponge-like maze, down past the heaving walls of larger tunnels tobranched passages, where, in comparative slack water, the siege of thecaves was resumed. For hour after hour this went on, the invaders dyingby hundreds, but increasing by thousands and ten thousands, as thegeometrical progression advanced, until, with swimming-spaces nearlychoked by their bodies, living and dead, there came the inevitable turnin the tide of battle. A white monster was killed. 

Glutted with victims, exhausted and sluggish, he was pounced upon byhundreds, hidden from view by a living envelop of black, which pulsedand throbbed with his death-throes. A feeler reached out, to be bittenoff; then another, to no avail. His strength was gone, and theassailants bit and burrowed until they reached a vital part, when thegreat mass assumed a spherical form and throbbed no more. They droppedoff, and, as the mangled ball floated on, charged on the next enemywith renewed fury and courage born of their victory. This one died asquickly. 

And as though it had been foreseen, and a policy arranged to meet it, the white army no longer fought in the open, but lined up along thewalls to defend the immovable caves. They avoided the working jaws ofthe other kind, which certainly needed no garrison, and drifting slowlyin the eddies, fought as they could, with decreasing strength andincreasing death-rate. And thus it happened that our conservativenon-combatant, out in midstream, found himself surrounded by a horde ofblack enemies who had nothing better to do than attack him. 

And they did. As many as could crowd about him closed their wicked jawsin his flesh. Squirming with pain, rendered trebly strong by histerror, he killed them by twos and threes as he could reach them withhis tail. He shook them off with nervous contortions, only to make roomfor more. He plunged, rolled, launched himself forward and back, up anddown, out and in, bending himself nearly double, then with lightningrapidity throwing himself far into the reverse curve. He was fightingfor his life, and knew it. When he could, he used his jaws, only onceto an enemy. He saw dimly at intervals that the white monsters werewatching him; but none offered to help, and he had not time to call. 

He thought that he must have become the object of the war; for from allsides they swarmed, crowding about him, seeking a place on which tofasten their jaws. Little by little the large red-and-gray creatures, the non-combatants, and the phosphorescent animals were pushed aside, and he, the center of an almost solid black mass, fought, in utterdarkness, with the fury of extreme fright. He had no appreciation ofthe passing of time, no knowledge of his distance from the wall, or thedestination of this never-pausing current. But finally, after anapparently interminable period, he heard dimly, with failingconsciousness, the reverberations of the thunder, and knew momentaryrespite as the violent cross-currents tore his assailants away. Then, still in darkness, he felt the crashing and tearing of flesh againstobstructing walls and sharp corners, the repetition of thunder and theroar of the current which told him he was once more in a large tunnel. An instant of light from a venturesome torch showed him to his enemies, and again he fought, like a whale in his last flurry, slowly dying fromexhaustion and pain, but still potential to kill--terrible in hisagony. There was no counting of scalps in that day's work; but perhapsno devouring white monster in all the defensive army could have shown adeath-list equal to this. From the surging black cloud there was asteady outflow of the dead, pushed back by the living. 

Weaker and weaker, while they mangled his flesh, and still in darkness, he fought them down through branching passages to another network ofsmall tunnels, where he caught a momentary view of the walls and thestolid white guard, thence on to what he knew was open space. And herehe felt that he could fight no more. They had covered him completely, and, try as he might with his failing strength, he could not dislodgethem. So he ceased his struggles; and numb with pain, dazed withdespair, he awaited the end. 

But it did not come. He was too exhausted to feel surprise or joy whenthey suddenly dropped away from him; but the instinct ofself-preservation was still in force, and he swam toward the wall. Thesmall creatures paid him no attention; they scurried this way and that, busy with troubles of their own, while he crept stupidly and painfullybetween two white sentries floating in the eddies, --one of whomconsiderately made room for him, --and anchored to a projection, luckilychoosing a harbor that was not hostile. 

"Any port in a storm, eh, neighbor?" said the one who had given himroom, and who seemed to notice his dazed condition. "You'll feel bettersoon. My, but you put up a good fight, that's what you did!"

He could not answer, and the friendly guard resumed his vigil. In a fewmoments, however, he could take cognizance of what was going on in thestream. There was a new army in the fight, and reinforcements werestill coming. A short distance above him was a huge rent in the wall, and the caves around it, crushed and distorted, were grinding fiercely. Protruding through the rent and extending half-way across the tunnelwas a huge mass of some strange substance, roughly shaped to acylindrical form. It was hollow, and out of it, by thousands andhundred thousands, was pouring the auxiliary army, from which the blackfighters were now fleeing for dear life. 

The newcomers, though resembling in general form the creatures theypursued, were much larger and of two distinct types. Both were lightbrown in color; but while one showed huge development of head and jaw, with small flippers, the other kind reversed these attributes, theirheads being small, but their flippers long and powerful. They ran theirquarry down in the open, and seized them with outreaching tentacles. Nomistakes were made--no feints or false motions; and there was noresistance by the victims. Where one was noticed he was doomed. Thetentacles gathered him in--to a murderous bite or a murderous embrace. 

At last, when the inflow had ceased, --when there must have beenmillions of the brown killers in the tunnel, --the great hollow cylinderturned slowly on its axis and backed out through the rent in the wall, which immediately closed, with a crushing and scattering of fragments. Though the allies were far down-stream now, the war was practicallyended; for the white defenders remained near the walls, and the blackinvaders were in wildest panic, each one, as the resistless currentrushed him past, swimming against the stream, to put distance betweenhimself and the destroyer below. But before long an advance-guard ofthe brown enemy shot out from the tributaries above, and the tide ofretreat swung backward. Then came thousands of them, and the massacrewas resumed. 

"Hot stuff, eh?" said his friendly neighbor to him. 

"Y-y-y-es--I guess so, " he answered, rather vacantly; "I don't know. Idon't know anything about it. I never saw such doings. What is it allfor? What does it mean?"

"Oh, this is nothing; it's all in a lifetime. Still, I admit it mightha' been serious for us--and you, too--if we hadn't got help. "

"But who are they, and what? They all seem of a family, and are killingeach other. "

"Immortal shade of Darwin!" exclaimed the other sentry, who had notspoken before. "Where were you brought up? Don't you know thatvariations from type are the deadliest enemies of the parent stock?These two brown breeds are the hundredth or two-hundredth cousins ofthe black kind. When they've killed off their common relative, and getto competing for grub, they'll exterminate each other, and we'll be ridof 'em all. Law of nature. Understand?"

"Oh, y-yes, I understand, of course; but what did the black kind attackme for? And what do they want, anyway?"

"To follow out their destiny, I s'pose. They're the kind of folks whohave missions. Reformers, we call 'em--who want to enforce theirpeculiar ideas and habits on other people. Sometimes we call themexpansionists--fond of colonizing territory that doesn't belong tothem. They wanted to get through the cells to the lymph-passages, thence on to the brain and spinal marrow. Know what that means?Hydrophobia. "

"What's that?"

"Oh, say, now! You're too easy. "

"Come, come, " said the other, good-naturedly; "don't guy him. He neverhad our advantages. You see, neighbor, we get these points from thesubjective brain, which knows all things and gives us our instructions. We're the white corpuscles, --phagocytes, the scientists call us, --andour work is to police the blood-vessels, and kill off invaders thatmake trouble. Those red-and-gray chumps can't take care of themselves, and we must protect 'em. Understand? But this invasion was too much forus, and we had to have help from outside. You must have come in withthe first crowd--think I saw you--in at the bite. Second crowd came inthrough an inoculation tube, and just in time to pull you through. "

"I don't know, " answered our bewildered friend. "In at the bite? Whatbite? I was swimming round comfortable-like, and there was a big noise, and then I was alongside of a big white wall, and then----"

"Exactly; the dog's tooth. You got into bad company, friend, and you'rewell out of it. That first gang is the microbe of rabies, not very wellknown yet, because a little too small to be seen by most microscopes. All the scientists seem to have learned about 'em is that a colony afew hundred generations old--which they call a culture, or serum--isdeath on the original bird; and that's what they sent in to help out. Pasteur's dead, worse luck, but sometime old Koch'll find out whatwe've known all along--that it's only variation from type. "

"Koch!" he answered eagerly and proudly. "Oh, I know Koch; I've methim. And I know about microscopes, too. Why, Koch had me under hismicroscope once. He discovered my family, and named us--the commabacilli--the Spirilli of Asiatic Cholera. "

In silent horror they drew away from him, and then conversed together. Other white warriors drifting along stopped and joined the conference, and when a hundred or more were massed before him, they spread out to asemi-spherical formation and closed in. 

"What's the matter?" he asked nervously. "What's wrong? What are yougoing to do? I haven't done anything, have I?"

"It's not what you've done, stranger, " said his quondam friend, "orwhat we're going to do. It's what you're going to do. You're going todie. Don't see how you got past quarantine, anyhow. "

"What--why--I don't want to die. I've done nothing. All I want is peaceand quiet, and a place to swim where it isn't too light nor too dark. Imind my own affairs. Let me alone--you hear me--let me alone!"

They answered him not. Slowly and irresistibly the hollow formationcontracted--individuals slipping out when necessary--until he waspushed, still protesting, into the nearest movable cave. The wallscrashed together and his life went out. When he was cast forth he wasin five pieces. 

And so our gentle, conservative, non-combative cholera microbe, whoonly wanted to be left alone to mind his own affairs, met this violentdeath, a martyr to prejudice and an unsympathetic environment. 

 * * * * *

Extract from hospital record of the case of John Anderson:

 August 18. As period of incubation for both cholera and hydrophobia has passed and no initial symptoms of either disease have been noticed, patient is this day discharged, cured. 

FROM THE ROYAL-YARD DOWN

As night descended, cold and damp, the wind hauled, and by nine o'clockthe ship was charging along before a half-gale and a rising sea fromthe port quarter. When the watch had braced the yards, the mate orderedthe spanker brailed in and the mizzen-royal clued up, as the shipsteered hard. This was done, and the men coiled up the gear. 

"Let the spanker hang in the brails; tie up the royal, " ordered themate from his position at the break of the poop. 

"Aye, aye, sir, " answered a voice from the group, and an active figuresprang into the rigging. Another figure--slim and graceful, clad inlong yellow oilskin coat, and a sou'wester which could not confine atangled fringe of wind-blown hair--left the shelter of theafter-companionway and sped along the alley to the mate's side. 

"The foot-rope, Mr. Adams, " she said hurriedly. "The seizing waschafed, you remember. "

"By George, Miss Freda!" said the officer. "Forgot all about it. Gladyou spoke. Come down from aloft, " he added in a roar. 

The sailor answered and descended. 

"Get a piece of spun yarn out o' the booby-hatch and take it up wi'you, " continued the mate. "Pass a temporary seizing on the lee royalfoot-rope. Make sure it's all right 'fore you get on it, now. "

"Aye, aye, sir. "

The man passed down the poop steps, secured the spun yarn, and whilerolling it into a ball to put in his pocket, stood for a moment in thelight shining from the second mate's room. The girl on the poop lookeddown at him. He was a trim-built, well-favored young fellow, with morerefinement in his face than most sailors can show; yet there was nolack of seamanly deftness in the fingers which balled up the spun yarnand threw a half-hitch with the bight of the lanyard over the point ofthe marlinespike which hung to his neck. As he climbed the steps, thegirl faced him, looking squarely into his eyes. 

"Be careful, John--Mr. Owen, " she said. "The seizing is chafed through. I heard the man report it--it was Dutch George of the other watch. Dobe careful. "

"Eh, why--why, yes, Miss Folsom. Thank you. But you startled me. I'vebeen Jack for three years--not John, nor Mister. Yes, it's all right;I----"

"Get aloft to that mizzenroyal, " thundered the mate, now near thewheel. 

"Aye, aye, sir. " He touched his sou'wester to the girl and mounted theweather mizzen-rigging, running up the ratlines as a fireman goes up aladder. It was a black night with cold rain, and having thrown off hisoiled jacket, he was already drenched to the skin; but no environmentof sunshine, green fields and woodland, and flower-scented air evermade life brighter to him than had the incident of the last fewmoments; and with every nerve in his body rejoicing in his victory, andher bitter words of four years back crowding his mind as a contrastingbackground, he danced up and over the futtock-shrouds, up thetopmast-rigging, through the crosstrees, and up the topgallant-riggingto where the ratlines ended and he must climb on the runner of theroyal-halyards. As the yard was lowered, this was a short climb, and heswung himself upward to the weather yard-arm, where he rolled up oneside of the sail with extravagant waste of muscular effort; for she hadsaid he was not a man, and he had proved her wrong: he had conqueredhimself, and he had conquered her. 

He hitched the gasket, and crossed over to the lee side, forgetting, inhis exhilaration, the object of the spun yarn in his pocket and themarlinespike hung from his neck, stepped out on the foot-rope, passedhis hands along the jack-stay to pull himself farther, and felt thefoot-rope sink to the sound of snapping strands. The jackstay was tornfrom his grasp, and he fell, face downward, into the black voidbeneath. 

An involuntary shriek began on his lips, but was not finished. He feltthat the last atom of air was jarred from his lungs by what he knew wasthe topgallant-yard, four feet below the royal; and, unable to hold on, with a freezing cold in his veins and at the hair-roots, he experiencedin its fullness the terrible sensation of falling, --whirlingdownward, --clutching wildly at vacancy with stiffened fingers. 

The first horror past, his mind took on a strange contemplativeness;fear of death gave way to mild curiosity as to the manner of it. Wouldhe strike on the lee quarter, or would he go overboard? And might henot catch something? There was rigging below him--the leeroyal-backstay stretched farthest out from the mast, and if he brushedit, there was a possible chance. He was now face upward, and with theutmost difficulty moved his eyes, --he could not yet, by any exercise ofwill or muscle, move his head, --and there, almost within reach, was adark line, which he knew was the royal-backstay; farther in toward thespars was another--the topgallant-backstay; and within this, two otherropes which he knew for the topgallant-rigging, though he could see noratlines, nor could he distinguish the lay of the strands; the ropesappeared like solid bars. This, with the fact that he was still but afew feet below the topgallant-yard, surprised him, until it came to himthat falling bodies travel over sixteen feet in the first second ofdescent, which is at a rate too fast for distinct vision, and that theapparent slowness of his falling was but relative--because of thequickness of his mind, which could not wait on a sluggish optic nerveand more sluggish retina. 

Yet he wondered why he could not reach out and grasp the backstay. Itseemed as though invisible fetters bound every muscle and joint, thoughnot completely. An intense effort of will resulted in the slowextension of all the fingers of his right hand, and a littlestraightening of the arm toward the backstay; but not until he hadfallen to the level of the upper topsail-yard was this result reached. It did no good; the backstay was now farther away. As it led in astraight line from the royal-masthead to the rail, this meant that hewould fall overboard, and the thought comforted him. The concussionwould kill him, of course; but no self-pity afflicted him now. Hemerely considered that she, who had relented, would be spared the sightof him crushed to a pulp on the deck. 

As he drifted slowly down past the expanse of upper topsail, he noticedthat his head was sinking and his body turning so that he wouldultimately face forward; but still his arms and legs held theirextended position, like those of a speared frog, and the thoughtrecalled to him an incident of his infancy--a frog-hunt with an olderplaymate, his prowess, success, wet feet, and consequent illness. Ithad been forgotten for years, but the chain was started, and led toother memories, long dead, which rose before him. His childhood passedin review, with its pleasures and griefs; his school-days, with theirsports, conflicts, friends and enemies; college, where he had acquiredthe polish to make him petted of all but one--and abhorrent to her. Almost every person, man or woman, boy or girl, with whom he hadconversed in his whole life, came back and repeated the scene; and ashe passed the lower topsail-yard, nearly head downward, he wasmuttering commonplaces to a brown-faced, gray-eyed girl, who listened, and looked him through and through, and seemed to be wondering why heexisted. 

And as he traversed the depth of the lower topsail, turning graduallyon his axis, he lived it over--next to his first voyage, the mostharrowing period of his life: the short two months during which he hadstriven vainly to impress this simple-natured sailor-girl with his goodqualities, ending at last with his frantic declaration of a love thatshe did not want. 

"But it's not the least use, John, " she said to him. "I do not loveyou, and I cannot. You are a gentleman, as they say, and as such I likeyou well enough; but I never can love you, nor any one like you. I'vebeen among men, real men, all my life, and perhaps have ideals that arestrange to you. John, "--her eyes were wide open in earnestness, --"youare not a man. "

Writhing under her words, which would have been brutal spoken byanother, he cursed, not her, nor himself, but his luck and the fatesthat had shaped his life. And next she was showing him the opened door, saying that she could tolerate profanity in a man, but not in agentleman, and that under no circumstances was he to claim heracquaintance again. Then followed the snubbing in the street, when, like a lately whipped dog, he had placed himself in her way, hoping shewould notice him; and the long agony of humiliation and despair as hisheart and soul followed her over the seas in her father's ship, untilthe seed she had planted--the small suspicion that her words weretrue--developed into a wholesome conviction that she had measured himby a higher standard than any he had known, and found him wanting. Sohe would go to her school, and learn what she knew. 

With lightning-like rapidity his mind rehearsed the details of histuition: the four long voyages; the brutality of the officers until hehad learned his work; their consideration and rough kindness when hehad become useful and valuable; the curious, incongruous feeling ofself-respect that none but able seamen feel; the growth in him of anaggressive physical courage; the triumphant satisfaction with which hefinally knew himself as a complete man, clean in morals and mind, ableto look men in the face. And then came the moment when, mustering atthe capstan with the new crew of her father's ship, he had met hersurprised eyes with a steady glance, and received no recognition. 

And so he pleaded his cause, dumbly, by the life that he lived. Askingnothing by word or look, he proved himself under her eyes--first ondeck; first in the rigging; the best man at a weather-earing; the bestat the wheel; quick, obedient, intelligent, and respectful, winning theadmiration of his mates, the jealous ill will of the officers, but nosign of interest or approval from her until to-night--the ninety-secondday of the passage. She had surrendered; he had reached her level, onlyto die; and he thought this strange. 

Facing downward, head inboard now, and nearly horizontal, he waspassing the cross-jack yard. Below him was the sea--black and crisp, motionless as though carved in ebony. Neither was there movement of theship and its rigging; the hanging bights of ropes were rigid, while abreaking sea just abaft the main chains remained poised, curled, itswhite crest a frozen pillow of foam. "The rapidity of thought, " hemused dreamily; "but I'm falling fast enough--fast enough to kill mewhen I strike. "

He could not move an eyelid now, nor was he conscious that he breathed;but, being nearly upright, facing aft and inboard, the quarter-deck andits fittings were before his eyes, and he saw what brought him out ofeternity to a moment of finite time and emotion. The helmsman stood atthe motionless wheel with his right hand poised six inches above aspoke, as though some sudden paralysis gripped him, and his face, illumined by the binnacle light, turned aloft inquiringly. But it wasnot this. Standing at the taffrail, one hand on a life-buoy, was a girlin yellow looking at him, --unspeakable horror in the look, --and aroundher waist the arm of the mate, on whose rather handsome face was anevil grin. 

A pang of earthly rage and jealousy shot through him, and he wished tolive. By a supreme effort of will he brought his legs close togetherand his arms straight above his head; then the picture before him shotupward, and he was immersed in cold salt water, with blackness allabout him. How long he remained under he could not guess. He had struckfeet first and suffered no harm, but had gone down like a deep-sealead. He felt the aching sensation in his lungs coming from suppressedbreathing, and swam blindly in the darkness, not knowing in whichdirection was the surface, until he felt the marlinespike--stillfastened to his neck--extending off to the right. Sure that it musthang downward, he turned the other way, and, keeping it parallel withhis body, swam with bursting lungs, until he felt air upon his face andknew that he could breathe. In choking sobs and gasps his breath cameand went, while he paddled with hands and feet, glad of his reprieve;and when his lungs worked normally, he struck out for a white, circularlife-buoy, not six feet away. "Bless her for this, " he prayed, as heslipped it under his arms. His oilskin trousers were cumbersome, andwith a little trouble he shed them. 

He was alive, and his world was again in motion. Seas lifted anddropped him, occasionally breaking over his head. In the calm of thehollows, he listened for voices of possible rescuers. On the tops ofthe seas, --ears filled with the roar of the gale, --he shouted, facingto leeward, and searching with strained eyes for sign of the ship orone of her boats. At last he saw a pin-point of light far away, andaround it and above it blacker darkness, which was faintly shaped tothe outline of a ship and canvas--hove to in the trough, withmaintopsail aback, as he knew by its foreshortening. And even as helooked and shouted it faded away. He screamed and cursed, for he wantedto live. He had survived that terrible fall, and it was his right. 

Something white showed on the top of a sea to leeward and sank in ahollow. He sank with it, and when he rose again it was nearer. 

"Boat ahoy!" he sang out. "Boat ahoy!--this way--port alittle--steady. "

He swam as he could, cumbered by the life-buoy, and with every heavingsea the boat came nearer. At last he recognized it--the ship's dinghy;and it was being pulled into the teeth of that forceful wind and sea bya single rower--a slight figure in yellow. 

"It's Freda, " he exclaimed; and then, in a shout: "This way, MissFolsom--a little farther. "

She turned, nodded, and pulled the boat up to him. He seized thegunwale, and she took in the oars. 

"Can you climb in alone, John?" she asked in an even voice--as even asthough she were asking him to have more tea. "Wait a little, --I amtired, --and I will help you. "

She was ever calm and dispassionate, but he wondered at her now; yet hewould not be outdone. 

"I'll climb over the stern, Freda, so as not to capsize you. Better goforward to balance my weight. "

She did so. He pulled himself to the stern, slipped the life-buoy overhis head and into the boat, then, by a mighty exercise of all hisstrength, vaulted aboard with seeming ease and sat down on a thwart. Hefelt a strong inclination to laughter and tears, but repressed himself;for masculine hysterics would not do before this young woman. She cameaft to the next thwart, and when he felt steadier he said:

"You have saved my life, Freda; but thanks are idle now, for your ownis in danger. Give me the oars. We must get back to the ship. "

She changed places with him, facing forward, and said wearily, as heshipped the oars: "So you want to get back?"

"Why, yes; don't you? We are adrift in an open boat. "

"The wind is going down, and the seas do not break, " she answered, inthe same weary voice. "It does not rain any more, and we will have themoon. "

A glance around told him that she spoke truly. There was less pressureto the wind, and the seas rose and fell, sweeping past them like movinghills of oil. Moonlight shining through thinning clouds faintlyillumined her face, and he saw the expressionless weariness of hervoice, and a sad, dreamy look in her gray eyes. 

"How did you get the dinghy down, Freda?" he asked. "And why did no onecome with you?"

"Father was asleep, and the mate was incompetent. I had my revolver, and they backed the yards for me and threw the dinghy over. I hadloosened the gripes as you went aloft. I thought you would fall. Still--no one would come. "

"And you came alone, " he said in a broken voice, "and pulled this boatto windward in this sea. You are a wonder. "

"I saw you catch the life-buoy. Why did you fall? You were cautioned. "

"I forgot the foot-rope. I was thinking of you. "

"You are like the mate. He forgot the foot-rope all day because he wasthinking of me. I should have gone aloft and seized it myself. "

There was no reproof or sarcasm in the tired voice. She had simply madean assertion. 

"Why are you at sea, before the mast--a man of your talents?"

It was foolish, he knew; but the word "man" sent a thrill through him. 

"To please you if I may; to cultivate what you did not find in me. "

"Yes, I knew; when you came on board I knew it. But you might havespoken to me. "

There was petulance in the tone now, and the soul of the man rejoiced. The woman in her was asserting itself. 

"Miss Folsom, " he answered warmly, "I could not. You had made itimpossible. It was your right, your duty, if you wished it. But youignored my existence. "

"I was testing you. I am glad now, Mr. Owen. "

The petulance was gone, but there was something chilling in thisanswer. 

"Can you see the ship?" he asked after a moment's silence. "Themoonlight is stronger. "

"We will not reach her. They have squared away. The mate had the deck, and father is asleep. "

"And left you in an open boat, " he answered angrily. 

"He knew I was with you. "

What was irrelevant in this explanation of the mate's conduct escapedhim at the time. The full moon had emerged from behind the racingclouds, and it brightened her face, fringed by the tangled hair andyellow sou'wester, to an unearthly beauty that he had never seenbefore. He wondered at it, and for a moment a grisly thought crossedhis mind that this was not life, but death; that he had died in thefall, and in some manner the girl had followed. 

She was standing erect, her lithe figure swaying to the boat's motion, and pointing to leeward, while the moonlit face was now sweetened bythe smile of a happy child. He stood up, and looked where she pointed, but saw nothing, and seated himself to look at her. 

"See!" she exclaimed gleefully. "They have hauled out the spanker andare sheeting home the royal. I will never be married! I will never bemarried! He knew I was with you. "

Again he stood up and searched the sea to leeward. There was nothing insight. 

"Unhinged, " he thought, "by this night's trouble. Freda, " he saidgently, "please sit down. You may fall overboard. "

"I am not insane, " she said, as though reading his thought; and, smiling radiantly in his face, she obeyed him. 

"Do you know where we are?" he asked tentatively. "Are we in the trackof ships?"

"No, " she answered, while her face took on the dreamy look again. "Weare out of all the tracks. We will not be picked up. We are due westfrom Ilio Island. I saw it at sundown broad on the starboard bow. Thewind is due south. If you will pull in the trough of the sea we canreach it before daylight. I am tired--so tired--and sleepy. Will youwatch out?"

"Why, certainly. Lie down in the stern-sheets and sleep if you can. "

She curled up in her yellow oil-coat and slumbered through the night, while he pulled easily on the oars--not that he had full faith in hernavigation, but to keep himself warm. The sea became smoother, and asthe moon rose higher, it attained a brightness almost equal to that ofthe sun, casting over the clear sky a deep-blue tint that shadedindefinitely into the darkness extending from itself to the horizon. Late in the night he remembered the danger of sleeping in strongmoonlight, and arising softly to cover her face with his damphandkerchief, he found her looking at him. 

"We are almost there, John. Wake me when we arrive, " she said, andclosed her eyes. 

He covered her face, and, marveling at her words, looked ahead. He waswithin a half-mile of a sandy beach which bordered a wooded island. Thesea was now like glass in its level smoothness, and the air was warmand fragrant with the smell of flowers and foliage. He shipped theoars, and pulled to the beach. As the boat grounded she arose, and hehelped her ashore. 

The beach shone white under the moonlight, and dotting it were largeshellfish and moving crabs that scuttled away from them. Bordering thebeach were forest and undergrowth with interlacery of flowering vines. A ridge of rocks near by disclosed caves and hollows, some filled bythe water of tinkling cascades. Oranges snowed in the branches oftrees, and cocoa-palms lifted their heads high in the distance. Asmall deer arose, looked at them, and lay down, while a rabbitinspected them from another direction and began nibbling. 

"An earthly paradise, I should say, " he observed, as he hauled the boatup the beach. "Plenty of food and water, at any rate. "

"It is Ilio Island, " she answered, with that same dreamy voice. "It isuninhabited and never visited. "

"But surely, Freda, something will come along and take us off. "

"No; if I am taken off I must be married, of course; and I will neverbe married. "

"Who to, Freda? Whom must you marry if we are rescued?"

"The mate--Mr. Adams. Not you, John Owen--not you. I do not like you. "

She was unbalanced, of course; but the speech pained him immeasurably, and he made no answer. He searched the clean-cut horizon for a moment, and when he looked back she was close to him, with the infantile smileon her face, candor and sanity in her gray eyes. Involuntarily heextended his arms, and she nestled within them. 

"You _will_ be married, Freda, " he said; "you _will_ be married, and tome. "

He held her tightly and kissed her lips; but the kiss ended in acrashing sound, and a shock of pain in his whole body which expelledthe breath from his lungs. The moonlit island, sandy beach, blue seaand sky were swallowed in a blaze of light, which gave way to pitchydarkness, with rain on his face and whistling wind in his ears, whilehe clung with both arms, not to a girl, but to a hard, wet, and coldmizzentopgallant-yard whose iron jack-stay had bumped him severelybetween the eyes. Below him in the darkness a scream rang out, followedby the roar of the mate: "Are you all right up there? Want any help?"

He had fallen four feet. 

When he could speak he answered: "I'm all right, sir. " And catching theroyal foot-rope dangling from the end of the yard above him, he broughtit to its place, passed the seizing, and finished furling the royal. But it was a long job; his movements were uncertain, for every nerve inhis body was jumping in its own inharmonious key. 

"What's the matter wi' you up there?" demanded the mate when he reachedthe deck; and a yellow-clad figure drew near to listen. 

"It was nothing, sir; I forgot about the foot-rope. "

"You're a bigger lunkhead than I thought. Go forrard. "

He went, and when he came aft at four bells to take his trick at thewheel, the girl was still on deck, standing near the companionway, facing forward. The mate stood at the other side of the binnacle, looking at her, with one elbow resting on the house. There was justlight enough from the cabin skylight for Owen to see the expressionwhich came over his face as he watched the graceful figure balancing tothe heave of the ship. It took on the same evil look which he had seenin his fall, while there was no mistaking the thought behind the gleamin his eyes. The mate looked up, --into Owen's face, --and saw somethingthere which he must have understood; for he dropped his glance to thecompass, snarled out, "Keep her on the course, " and stepped into thelee alleyway, where the dinghy, lashed upside down on the house, hidhim from view. 

The girl approached the man at the wheel. 

"I saw you fall, Mr. Owen, " she said in a trembling voice, "and I couldnot help screaming. Were you hurt much?"

"No, Miss Folsom, " he answered in a low though not a steady tone; "butI was sadly disappointed. "

"I confess I was nervous--very nervous--when you went aloft, " she said;"and I cleared away the life-buoy. Then, when you fell, it slipped outof my hand and went overboard. Mr. Adams scolded me. Wasn't itridiculous?" There were tears and laughter in the speech. 

"Not at all, " he said gravely; "it saved my life--for which I thankyou. "

"How--why----"

"Who in Sam Hill's been casting off these gripe-lashings?" growled thevoice of the mate behind the dinghy. 

The girl tittered hysterically, and stepped beside Owen at the wheel, where she patted the moving spokes, pretending to assist him insteering. 

"Miss Freda, " said the officer, sternly, as he came around the cornerof the house, "I must ask you plainly to let things alone; and anotherthing, please don't talk to the man at the wheel. "

"Will you please mind your own business?" she almost screamed; andthen, crying and laughing together: "If you paid as much attention toyour work as you do to--to--me, men wouldn't fall from aloft on accountof rotten foot-ropes. "

The abashed officer went forward, grumbling about "discipline" and"women aboard ship. " When he was well out of sight in the darkness, thegirl turned suddenly, passed both arms around Owen's neck, exerted avery slight pressure, patted him playfully on the shoulder as shewithdrew them, and sped down the companionway. 

He steered a wild course during that trick, and well deserved theprofane criticism which he received from the mate. 

NEEDS MUST WHEN THE DEVIL DRIVES

Hogged at bow and stern, her deck sloped at the ends like a truck'splatform, while a slight twist in the old hull canted the foremast toport and the mizzen to starboard. It would be hard to know when she wason an even keel. The uneven planking, inboard and out, was scarred likea chopping-block, possibly from a former and intimate acquaintance withthe coal trade. Aloft were dingy gray spars, slack hemp rigging, untarred for years, and tan-colored sails, mended with patch upon patchof lighter-hued canvas that seemed about to fall apart from their ownweight. She was English-built, bark-rigged, bluff in the bow, square inthe stern, unpainted and leaky--on the whole as unkempt anddisreputable-looking a craft as ever flew the black flag; and with theclank of the pumps marking time to the wailing squeak of thetiller-ropes, she wallowed through the waves like a log in an eddyingtideway. 

Even the black flag at the gaff-end wore a makeshift, slovenly air. Itwas a square section of the bark's foreroyal, painted black around theskull-and-cross-bones design, which had been left the original hue ofthe canvas. The port-holes were equally slovenly in appearance, beingcut through between stanchions with axes instead of saws; and thebulwarks were further disfigured by extra holes smashed through at thestanchions to take the lashings of the gun-breechings. But the gunswere bright and cared for, as were the uniforms of the crew; for theyhad been lately transhipped. Far from home, with a general cargo, thisancient trader had been taken in a fog by Captain Swarth and his men anhour before their own well-found vessel had sunk alongside--which gavethem just time to hoist over guns and ammunition. When the fog shifted, the pursuing English war-brig that had riddled the pirate saw nothingbut the peaceful old tub ahead, and went on into the fog, looking forthe other. 

"Any port in a storm, Angel, " remarked Captain Swarth, as he flashedhis keen eyes over the rickety fabric aloft; "but we'll find a betterone soon. How do the boys stand the pumping?"

Mr. Angel Todd, first mate and quartermaster, filled a black pipebefore answering. Then, between the first and second deep puffs, hesaid: "Growlin'--dammum. "

"At the work?"

"Yep, and the grub. And they say the 'tween-deck and forecastle smellso' bedbugs and bilge-water, and they want their grog. 'An ungodlywitness scorneth judgment: and the mouth of the wicked devourethiniquity. '" Mr. Todd had been educated for the pulpit; but, going outas a missionary, he had fallen into ungodly ways and taken to the sea, where he was more successful. Many of his old phrasings clung to him. 

"Well, " drawled the captain, "men get fastidious and high-toned in thisbusiness, --can't blame them, --but we've got to make the coast, and ifwe don't pick up something on the way, we must careen and stop theleak. Then they'll have something to growl about. "

"S'pose the brig follows us in?"

"Hope she will, " said Captain Swarth, with a pleasant smile and alightening of his eyes--"hope she will, and give me a chance. Hermajestic widowship owes me a brig, and that's a fine one. "

Mr. Todd had never been known to smile, but at this speech he liftedone eyebrow and turned his saturnine face full at his superior, inquirywritten upon every line of it. Captain Swarth was musing, however, andsaid no more; so the mate, knowing better than to attempt probing hismind, swung his long figure down the poop-ladder, and went forward toharass the men--which, in their opinion, was all he was good for. 

According to his mood, Mr. Todd's speech was choicest English or thecosmopolitan, technical slang of the sea, mingled with wonderfulprofanity. But one habit of his early days he never dropped: he wore, in the hottest weather, and in storm and battle, the black frock andchoker of the clerical profession. Standing now with one foot on thefore-hatch, waving his long arms and objurgating the scowling men atthe pumps, he might easily have seemed, to any one beyond the reach ofhis language, to be a clergyman exhorting them. Captain Swarth watchedhim with an amused look on his sunburnt face, and muttered: "Good man, every inch of him, but he can't handle men. " Then he called him aft. 

"Angel, " he said, "we made a mistake in cutting the ports; we can'tcatch anything afloat that sees them, so we'll have to pass for apeaceable craft until we can drift close enough to board something. Ithink the brig'll be back this way, too. Get out some old tarpaulinsand cover up the ports. Paint them, if you can, the color of the sides, and you might coil some lines over the rail, as though to dry. Then youcan break out cargo and strike the guns down the main-hatch. "

Three days later, with Cape St. Roque a black line to the westward, around shot across her bows brought the old vessel--minus the blackemblem now, and outwardly respectable--up to the wind, with maintopsailaback, while Captain Swarth and a dozen of his men--equally respectablein the nondescript rig of the merchant sailor--watched the approach ofan English brig of war. Mr. Todd and the rest of the crew were belowhatches with the guns. 

The brig came down the wind like a graceful bird--a splendid craft, black, shiny, and shipshape, five guns to a side, brass-bound officerson her quarter-deck, blue-jackets darting about her white deck and upaloft, a homeward-bound pennant trailing from her main-truck, and ather gaff-end a British ensign as large as her mainroyal. Captain Swarthlazily hoisted the English flag to the bark's gaff, and, as the brigrounded to on his weather beam, he pointed to it; but his dark eyessparkled enviously as he viewed the craft whose government's protectionhe appealed to. 

"Bark ahoy!" came a voice through a trumpet. "What bark is that?"

Captain Swarth swung himself into the mizzen-rigging and answeredthrough his hands with an excellent cockney accent: "_Tryde Wind_o' Lunnon, Cappen Quirk, fifty-one dyes out fro' Liverpool, bound toCallao, gen'ral cargo. "

"You were not heading for the Horn. "

"Hi'm a-leakin' badly. Hi'm a-goin' to myke the coast to careen. D'yehappen to know a good place?"

An officer left the group and returned with what Captain Swarth knewwas a chart, which a few of them studied, while their captain hailedagain:

"See anything more of that pirate brig the other day?"

"What! a pirate? Be 'e a pirate?" answered Captain Swarth, in agitatedtones. "Be that you a-chasin' of 'im? Nao, hi seed nothink of 'im arterthe fog shut 'im out. "

The captain conferred with his officers a moment, then called:

"We are going in to careen ourselves. That fellow struck us on thewater-line. We are homeward bound, and Rio's too far to run back. Follow us in; but if you lose sight of us, it's a small bay, latitudenine fifty-one forty south, rocks to the north, lowland to the south, good water at the entrance, and a fine beach. Look out for the brig. It's Swarth and his gang. Good morning. "

"Aye, that hi will. Thank ye. Good marnin'. "

In three hours the brig was a speck under the rising land ahead; inanother, she was out of sight; but before this Captain Swarth and hiscrew had held a long conference, which resulted in sail beingshortened, though the man at the wheel was given a straight course tothe bay described by the English captain. 

Late on the following afternoon the old bark blundered into this bay--arippling sheet of water, bag-shaped, and bordered on all sides by asandy beach. Stretching up to the mountainous country was a luxuriousforest of palm, laurel, and cactus, bound and intertwined by almostimpassable undergrowth, and about half-way from the entrance to the endof the bay was the English brig, moored and slightly careened on theinshore beach. Captain Swarth's seamanly eye noted certain appearancesof the tackles that held her down, which told him that the work wasdone and she was being slacked upright. "Just in time, " he muttered. 

They brought the bark to anchor near the beach, about a half-mile fromthe brig, furled the canvas, and ran out an anchor astern, with thecable over the taffrail. Heaving on this, they brought the vesselparallel with the shore. So far, good. Guns and cargo lightered ashore, more anchors seaward to keep her off the beach, masthead tackles to thetrees to heave her down, and preventer rigging and braces to assist themasts, would have been next in order, but they proceeded no furthertoward careening. Instead, they lowered the two crazy boats, provisioned and armed them on the in-shore side of the bark, madecertain other preparations--and waited. 

On the deck of the English brig things were moving. A gang ofblue-jackets, under the first lieutenant, were heaving in the cable;another gang, under the boatswain, were sending down and stowing awaythe heavy tackles and careening-gear, tailing out halyards and sheetsand coiling down the light-running rigging, while topmen aloft loosedthe canvas to bunt-gaskets, ready to drop it at the call from the deck. 

The second lieutenant, overseeing this latter, paced the portquarter-deck and answered remarks from Captain Bunce, who paced thesacred starboard side (the brig being at anchor) and occasionallyturned his glass on the dilapidated craft down the beach. 

"Seems to me, Mr. Shack, " he said across the deck, "that an owner whowould send that bark around the Horn, and the master who would takeher, ought to be sequestered and cared for, either in an asylum or injail. "

"Yes, sir, I think so too, " answered the second lieutenant, lookingaloft. "Might be an insurance job. Clear away that bunt-gasket on theroyal-yard, " he added in a roar. 

Captain Bunce--round, rosy, with brilliant mutton-chopwhiskers--muttered: "Insurance--wrecked intentionally--no, not herewhere we are; wouldn't court investigation by her Majesty's officers. "He rolled forward, then aft, and looked again through the glass. 

"Very large crew--very large, " he said; "very curious, Mr. Shack. "

A hail from the forecastle, announcing that the anchor was short, prevented Mr. Shack's answering. Captain Bunce waved a deprecatory handto the first lieutenant, who came aft at once, while Mr. Shackdescended to the waist, and the boatswain ascended the forecastle stepsto attend to the anchor. The first lieutenant now had charge of thebrig, and from the quarter-deck gave his orders to the crew, whileCaptain Bunce busied himself with his glass and his thoughts. 

Fore-and-aft sail was set and head-sheets trimmed down to port, squaresails were dropped, sheeted home, and hoisted, foreyards braced toport, the anchor tripped and fished, and the brig paid off from theland-breeze, and, with foreyards swung, steadied down to a course forthe entrance. 

"Mr. Duncan, " said the captain, "there are fully forty men on thatbark's deck, all dressed alike--all in red shirts and knitted caps--andall dancing around like madmen. Look!" He handed the glass to the firstlieutenant, who brought it to bear. 

"Strange, " said the officer, after a short scrutiny; "there were only afew showing when we spoke her outside. It looks as though they were alldrunk. "

As they drew near, sounds of singing--uproarious discord--reached them, and soon they could see with the naked eye that the men on the barkwere wrestling, dancing, and running about. 

"Quarters, sir?" inquired Mr. Duncan. "Shall we bring to alongside?"

"Well--no--not yet, " said the captain, hesitatingly; "it's allright--possibly; yet it is strange. Wait a little. "

They waited, and had sailed down almost abreast of the gray old craft, noticing, as they drew near, an appreciable diminution of the uproar, when a flag arose from the stern of the bark, a dusky flag thatstraightened out directly toward them, so that it was difficult to makeout. 

But they soon understood. As they reached a point squarely abreast ofthe bark, five points of flame burst from her innocent gray sides, fiveclouds of smoke ascended, and five round shot, coming with the thunderof the guns, hurtled through their rigging. Then they saw the design ofthe flag, a white skull and cross-bones, and noted another, a blackflag too, but pennant-shaped, and showing in rudely painted letters thesingle word "Swarth, " sailing up to the forepeak. 

"Thunder and lightning!" roared Captain Bunce. "Quarters, Mr. Duncan, quarters, and in with the kites. Give it to them. Put about first. "

A youngster of the crew had sprung below and immediately emerged with adrum which, without definite instruction, he hammered vigorously; butbefore he had begun, men were clearing away guns and manning flying-jibdownhaul and royal clue-lines. Others sprang to stations, anticipatingall that the sharp voice of the first lieutenant could order. Aroundcame the brig on the other tack and sailed back, receiving anotherbroadside through her rigging and answering with her starboard guns. Then for a time the din was deafening. The brig backed her main-yardsand sent broadside after broadside into the hull of the old craft. Butit was not until the eighth had gone that Captain Bunce noticed throughthe smoke that the pirates were not firing. The smoke from the burningcanvas port-coverings had deluded him. He ordered a cessation. Fullyforty solid shot had torn through that old hull near the water-line, and not a man could now be seen on her deck. 

"Out with the boats, Mr. Duncan, " he said; "they're drunk or crazy, butthey're the men we want. Capture them. "

"Suppose they run, sir--suppose they take to their boats and get intothe woods--shall we follow?"

"No, not past the beach--not into an ambush. "

The four boat-loads of men which put off from the brig found nothingbut a deserted deck on the sinking bark and two empty boats hauled upon the beach. The pirates were in the woods, undoubtedly, having keptthe bark between themselves and the brig as they pulled ashore. Whilethe blue-jackets clustered around the bows of their boats and watchednervously the line of forest up the beach, from which bullets mightcome at any time, the two lieutenants conferred for a few moments, andhad decided to put back, when a rattling chorus of pistol reportssounded from the depths of the woods. It died away; then was heard acrashing of bush and branch, and out upon the sands sprang a figure--along, weird figure in black frock of clerical cut. Into their midst itsped with mighty bounds, and sinking down, lifted a glad face to theheavens with the groaning utterance: "O God, I thank thee. Protect me, gentlemen--protect me from those wicked men. "

"What is it? Who are you?" asked Mr. Duncan. "Were they shooting atyou?"

"Yes, at me, who never harmed a fly. They would have killed me. My nameis Todd. Oh, such suffering! But you will protect me? You are Englishofficers. You are not pirates and murderers. "

"But what has happened? Do you live around here?"

It took some time for Mr. Todd to quiet down sufficiently to tell hisstory coherently. He was an humble laborer in the vineyard of the Lord. He had gleaned among the poorest of the native population in theoutskirts of Rio de Janeiro until his health suffered, and had takenpassage home in a passenger-ship, which, ten days out, was captured bya pirate brig. And the pirate crew had murdered every soul on board buthimself, and only spared his life, as he thought, for the purpose ofamusement; for they had compelled him to dance--he, a minister of thegospel--and had made him drink under torture, and recite ribald poetry, and swear, and wash their clothes. All sorts of indignities had beenheaped upon him, but he had remembered the injunction of the Master; hehad invariably turned the other cheek when smitten, and had prayed fortheir souls. He told of the flight from the English war-brig, of thetaking of the old bark in the fog and the sinking of the pirate craft, of the transfer of guns and treasure to the bark, and the interview atsea with the English brig, in which Captain Swarth had deceived theother, and of Captain Swarth's reckless confidence in himself, whichhad induced him to follow the brig in and careen in the same bay. Hewound up his tale with a lurid description of the drunken debauchfollowing the anchoring of the bark, --during which he had trembled forhis life, --of the insane firing on the brig as she passed, and thetumbling into the boats when the brig returned the fire, of the flightinto the woods, the fighting among themselves, and his escape underfire. 

As he finished he offered an incoherent prayer of thankfulness, and thesympathetic Mr. Shack drew forth his pocket-flask and offered it to theagitated sufferer; but Mr. Todd, who could probably drink more whiskyand feel it less than any other man in the pirate crew, declined thepoison with a shiver of abhorrence. Then Mr. Duncan, who had listenedthoughtfully, said: "You speak of treasure; did they take it withthem?"

Mr. Todd opened wide his eyes, looked toward the dark shades of theforest, then at the three masts of the bark rising out of the water, and answered impressively:

"Gentlemen, they did not. They were intoxicated--mad with liquor. Theytook arms and a knapsack of food to each man, --they spoke of an inlandretreat to which they were going, --but the treasure from thepassenger-ship--the bars of gold and the bags of diamonds--they forgot. They transferred it from their sinking vessel when sober, but whenintoxicated they remembered food and left it behind. Gentlemen, thereis untold wealth in the hull out there which your fire has sunk. It is, verily, the root of all evil; let us hope that it remains at the bottomof the sea. "

"Bars of gold--bags of diamonds!" said Mr. Duncan. "Come on board, Mr. Todd; we'll see what the captain thinks. "

At dinner in the brig's cabin that evening--as a prelude to which Mr. Todd said grace--his account of the wealth spread out on CaptainSwarth's cabin table after the taking of the passenger-ship wassomething to arouse interest in a less worldly man than Captain Bunce. Virgin gold--in bars, ingots, bricks, and dust--from the Morro Velhomines of Brazil was there, piled up on the table until the legs hadgiven way and launched the glittering mass to the floor. Diamondsuncut, uncounted, of untold value, --a three years' product of the wholeChapada district, --some as large as walnuts, had been spread out andtossed about like marbles by those lawless men, then boxed up with thegold and stowed among the cargo under the main-hatch. Again Mr. Toddexpressed the hope that Providence would see fit to let this treasureremain where the pirates had left it, no longer to tempt man to killand steal. But Captain Bunce and his officers thought differently. Glances, then tentative comments, were exchanged, and in five minutesthey were of one mind, even including Mr. Todd; for it may not beneedless to state that the treasure and the passenger-ship existed onlyin his imagination. 

Pending the return of the boats the brig's anchor had been droppedabout two hundred yards from the bark; now canvas was furled, and ateight bells all hands were mustered aft to hear what was in store. Captain Bunce stated the case succinctly; they were homeward bound andunder general orders until they reported to the admiral at Plymouth. Treasure was within their reach, apportionable, when obtained, asprize-money. It was useless to pursue the pirates into the Brazilianjungle; but they would need to be watchful and ready for surprise atany moment, either while at work raising the bark or at night; forthough they had brought out the two boats in which the pirates hadescaped, they could find other means of attack, should they dare orcare to make it. The English sailors cheered. Mr. Todd begged to say afew words, and enjoined them not to allow the love of lucre to tempttheir minds from the duty they owed to their God, their country, andtheir captain, which was also applauded and forgotten in a moment. Then, leaving a double-anchor watch, provided with blue fire and strictinstructions, on deck, the crew turned in to dream of an affluentfuture, and Mr. Todd was shown to a comfortable state-room. He removedhis coat and vest, closed the door and dead-light, filled and lightedhis black pipe, and rolled into the berth with a seaman's sigh ofcontentment. 

"That was a good dinner, " he murmured, after he had filled the roomwith smoke--"a good dinner. Nothing on earth is too good for asky-pilot. I'd go back to the business when I've made my pile, if itwasn't so all-fired hard on the throat; and then the trustees, withtheir eternal kicking on economy, and the sisters, and thedonation-parties--yah, to h----l with 'em! Wonder if this brig evercarried a chaplain? Wonder how Bill and the boys are making out? Finebrig, this, --'leven knots on a bow-line, I'll bet, --fine state-room, good grub, nothin' to do but save souls and preach the Word on Sunday. Guess I'll strike the fat--duffer--for the--job--in--the--morn----" Therest of the sentence merged into a snore, and Mr. Todd slept throughthe night in the fumes of tobacco, which so permeated his very beingthat Captain Bunce remarked it at breakfast. "Smoke, Captain Bunce? Ismoke? Not I, " he answered warmly; "but, you see, those ungodly mencompelled me to clean all their pipes, --forty foul pipes, --and I do notdoubt that some nicotine has lodged on my clothing. " Whereupon CaptainBunce told of a chaplain he had once sailed with whose clothing smelledso vilely that he himself had framed a petition to the admiral for histransfer to another ship and station. And the little story had theeffect on Mr. Todd of causing him mentally to vow that he'd "ship withno man who didn't allow smoking, " and openly aver that no sincere, consistent Christian clergyman would be satisfied to stultify himselfand waste his energies in the comfort and ease of a naval chaplaincy, and that a chaplain who would smoke should be discredited and forcedout of the profession. But later, when Captain Bunce and his officerslighted fat cigars, and he learned that the aforesaid chaplain hadmerely been a careless devotee of pipe and pigtail twist, Mr. Todd'sfeelings may be imagined (by a smoker); but he had committed himselfagainst tobacco and must suffer. 

During the breakfast the two lieutenants reported the results of asurvey which they had taken of the wreck at daylight. 

"We find, " said Mr. Duncan, "about nine feet of water over the deck atthe stern, and about three feet over the fore-hatch at low tide. Thetopgallant-forecastle is awash and the end of the bowsprit out ofwater, so that we can easily reach the upper ends of the bobstays. There is about five feet rise and fall of tide. Now, we have nopontoons nor casks. Our only plan, captain, is to lift her bodily. "

"But we have a diving-suit and air-pump, " said Mr. Shack, enthusiastically, "and fifty men ready to dive without suits. We canraise her, captain, in two weeks. "

"Gentlemen, " said Captain Bunce, grandly, "I have full faith in yourseamanship and skill. I leave the work in your hands. " Which wasequivalent to an admission that he was fat and lazy, and did not careto take an active part. 

"Thank you, sir, " said Mr. Duncan, and "Thank you, sir, " said Mr. Shack; then the captain said other pleasant things, which brought otherpleasant responses, and the breakfast passed off so agreeably that Mr. Todd, in spite of the soul-felt yearning for a smoke inspired by thecigars in the mouths of the others, felt the influence of theenthusiasm and bestowed his blessing--qualifiedly--on the enterprise. 

Every man of the brig's crew was eager for the work, but few couldengage at first; for there was nothing but the forecastle-deck and thebark's rigging to stand upon. Down came the disgraceful black flags thefirst thing, and up to the gaff went the ensign of Britain. Then theysent down the fore and main lower and topsail yards, and erected themas sheers over the bow and stern, lower ends well socketed in spareanchor-stocks to prevent their sinking in the sand, upper ends lashedtogether and stayed to each other and to the two anchors ahead andastern. To the sheer-heads they rigged heavy threefold tackles, and tothe disconnected bobstays (chains leading from the bowsprit end to thestem at the water-line) they hooked the forward tackle, and heaving onthe submerged windlass, lifted the bow off the bottom--high enough toenable them to slip two shots of anchor-chain under the keel, one totake the weight at the stern, the other at the bow, for the bobstayswould pull out of the stem under the increased strain as the barkarose. 

Most of this work was done under water; but a wetting is nothing to menlooking for gold, and nobody cared. Yet, as a result of ruineduniforms, the order came from Captain Bunce to wear underclothing onlyor go naked, which latter the men preferred, though the officers clungto decency and tarry duck trousers. Every morning the day began withthe washing of the brig's deck and scouring of brasswork--which must bedone at sea though the heavens fall; then followed breakfast, thearming of the boats ready for an attack from the shore, and the descentupon the bark of as many men as could work. 

Occasionally Captain Bunce would order the dinghy, and, accompanied byMr. Todd, would visit the bark and offer interfering suggestions, afterthe manner of captains, which only embarrassed the officers; and Mr. Todd would take advantage of these occasions to make landlubberlycomments and show a sad ignorance of things nautical. But often hewould decline the invitation, and when the captain was gone woulddescend to his room, and, shutting the door, grip his beloved--thoughempty--black pipe between his teeth and breathe through it, while hiseyes shone fiercely with unsatisfied desire, and his mind framed silentmalediction on Bill Swarth for condemning him to this smokelesssojourn. For he dared not smoke; stewards, cooks, and sailors were allabout him. 

In three days the bark's nose was as high as the seven-part tacklewould bring it, with all men heaving who could find room at thewindlass-brakes. Then they clapped a luff-tackle on the fall, and byheaving on this, nippering and fleeting up, they lifted the fore-hatchand forecastle scuttle out of water--which was enough. Before thisanother gang had been able to slip the other chain to position abaftthe mizzenmast, hook on the tackle, and lead the fall through asnatch-block at the quarter-bitts forward to the midship capstan. Disdaining the diving-suit, they swam down nine feet to do thesethings, and when they had towed the rope forward they descended sevenfeet to wind it around the capstan and ship the bars, which they foundin a rack at the mainmast. 

A man in the water weighs practically nothing, and to heave around acapstan under water requires lateral resistance. To secure this theydived with hammers and nails, and fastened a circle of cleats to catchtheir feet. Then with a boy on the main fife-rail (his head out)holding slack, eighteen men--three to a bar--would inhale all the airtheir lungs could hold, and, with a "One, two, three, " would flounderdown, push the capstan around a few pawls, and come up gasping, andblue in the face, to perch on their bars and recover. It went slowly, this end, but in three days more they could walk around with theirheads above water. 

The next day was Sunday, and they were entitled to rest; but the flavorof wealth had entered their souls, and they petitioned the captain forprivilege to work, which was granted, to the satisfaction of theofficers, and against the vigorous protest of Mr. Todd, who hadprepared a sermon and borrowed clean linen from Mr. Shack in which todeliver it. 

With luff-tackles on the fall they hove the stern up until the cabindoors and all deck-openings but the main-hatch were out of water, andthen, with the bark hanging to the sheers as a swinging-cradle hangsfrom its supports, some assisted the carpenter and his mates inbuilding up and calking an upward extension of the main-hatch coamingthat reached above water at high tide, while others went over the sidelooking for the shot-holes of eight broadsides. These, when found, werecovered with planking, followed by canvas, nails being driven withshackles, sounding-leads, and stones from the bottom in the hands ofnaked men clinging to weighted stagings--men whose eyes protruded, whose lungs ached, whose brains were turning. 

Then, and before a final inspection by the boatswain in the diving-suitassured them that the last shot-hole was covered, they began bailingfrom the main-hatch, and when the water perceptibly lowered--the firstindex of success--a feverish yell arose and continued, while nudelunatics wrestled and floundered waist-deep on the flooded deck. Thebark's pumps were manned and worked under water, bailing-pumps--squaretubes with one valve--were made and plunged up and down in each hatch, whips were rigged, and buckets rose and fell until the obstructingcargo confined the work to the bark's pumps. Can-hooks replaced thebuckets on the whips, then boxes and barrels were hoisted, broken into, and thrown overboard, until the surface of the bay was dotted withthem. They drifted back and forth with the tide, some stranding on thebeach, others floating seaward through the inlet. And all the time thatthey worked, sharp eyes had watched through the bushes, and a few milesinland, in a glade surrounded by the giant trees of the Brazilianforest, red-shirted men lolled and smoked and grew fat, while theydiscussed around the central fire the qualities of barbecued wild oxen, roast opossum and venison, and criticized the seamanship of theEnglishmen. 

With a clear deck to work on, every man and boy of the brig's crew, except the idlers (stewards, cooks, and servants), was requisitioned, and boxes flew merrily; but night closed down on the tenth day of theirlabor without sign of the treasure, and now Mr. Todd, who had noticed ashade of testiness in the queries of the officers as to the exactlocation of the gold and diamonds, expressed a desire to climb therigging next afternoon, a feat he had often wished to perform, which hedid clumsily, going through the lubber's hole, and seated in themaintop with Mr. Duncan's Bible, he remained in quiet meditation andapparent reading and prayer until the tropic day changed to suddentwilight and darkness, and the hysterical crew returned. Then he camedown to dinner. 

In the morning the work was resumed, and more boxes sprinkled the bay. They drifted up with the flood, and came back with the ebb-tide; butamong them now were about forty others, unobserved by Captain Bunce, pacing his quarter-deck, but noted keenly by Mr. Todd. These fortydrifted slowly to the offshore side of the brig and stopped, bobbing upand down on the crisp waves, even though the wind blew briskly with thetide, and they should have gone on with the others. It was then thatCaptain Bunce stepped below for a cigar, and it was then that Mr. Toddbecame strangely excited, hopping along the port-rail and throwingoverboard every rope's end within reach, to the wonder and scandal ofan open-eyed steward in the cabin door, who immediately apprised thecaptain. 

Captain Bunce, smoking a freshly lit cigar, emerged to witness ashocking sight--the good and godly Mr. Todd, with an intense expressionon his somber countenance, holding a match to a black pipe and puffingvigorously, while through the ports and over the rail red-shirted men, dripping wet and scowling, were boarding his brig. Each man carried acutlass and twelve-inch knife, and Captain Bunce needed no specialintelligence to know that he was tricked. 

One hail only he gave, and Mr. Todd, his pipe glowing like a hot coal, was upon him. The captain endeavored to draw his sword, but sinewy armsencircled him; his cigar was removed from his lips and inserted in themouth of Mr. Todd alongside the pipe; then he was lifted, splutteringwith astonishment and rage, borne to the rail and dropped overboard, his sword clanking against the side as he descended. When he came tothe surface and looked up, he saw through a cloud of smoke on the railthe lantern-jaws of Mr. Todd working convulsively on pipe and cigar, and heard the angry utterance: "Yes, d--n ye, I smoke. " Then a vibrantvoice behind Mr. Todd roared out: "Kill nobody--toss 'em overboard, "and the captain saw his servants, cooks, and stewards tumbling over tojoin him. 

Captain Bunce turned and swam--there was nothing else to do. Soon hecould see a black-eyed, black-mustached man on his quarter-deckdelivering orders, and he recognized the thundering voice, but none ofthe cockney accent of Captain Quirk. Men were already on the yardsloosing canvas; and as he turned on his back to rest--for, thoughfleshy and buoyant, swimming in full uniform fatigued him--he saw hisanchor-chains whizzing out the hawse-pipes. 

He was picked up by the first boat to put off from the bark, andordered pursuit; but this was soon seen to be useless. The clean-linedbrig had sternway equal to the best speed of the boats, and nowhead-sails were run up, and she paid off from the shore. Topsails weresheeted home and hoisted, she gathered way, and with topgallantsailsand royals, spanker and staysails, following in quick succession, thebeautiful craft hummed down to the inlet and put to sea, while yells ofderision occasionally came back to the white-faced men in the boats. 

A month later the rehabilitated old bark also staggered out theentrance, and, with a naked, half-starved crew and sad-eyed, dilapidated officers, headed southward for Rio de Janeiro. 

WHEN GREEK MEETS GREEK

 "Thrice is he armed that hath his quarrel just. " BARD OF AVON. 

 "But 4 times he who gits hiz blo' in fust. " JOSH BILLINGS. 

Captain William Belchior was more than a martinet. He was known as"Bucko" Belchior in every port where the English language is spoken, having earned this prefix by the earnest readiness with which, in hisdays as second and chief mate, he would whirl belaying-pins, heavers, and handspikes about the decks, and by his success in knocking down, tricing up, and working up sailors who displeased him. With a blow ofhis fist he had broken the jaw of a man helplessly ironed in the'tween-deck, and on the same voyage, armed with a simple belaying-pin, had sprung alone into a circle of brandishing sheath-knives and quelleda mutiny. He was short, broad, beetle-browed, and gray-eyed, ofundoubted courage, but with the quality of sympathy left out of hisnature. 

During the ten years in which he had been in command, he was relievedof much of the executive work that had made him famous when he stoodwatch, but was always ready to justify his reputation as a "bucko"should friction with the crew occur past the power of his officers tocope with. His ship, the _Wilmington_, a skysail-yard clipper, wasrated by sailormen as the "hottest" craft under the American flag, andCaptain Belchior himself was spoken of by consuls and commissioners, far and near, as a man peculiarly unfortunate in his selection of men;for never a passage ended but he was complainant against one or moreheavily ironed and badly used-up members of his crew. 

His officers were, in the language of one of these defendants, "o' thesame breed o' dorg. " No others could or would sign with him. His crewswere invariably put on board in the stream or at anchorage--never atthe dock. Drunk when coerced by the boarding-masters into signing theship's articles, kept drunk until delivery, they were driven or hoistedup the side like animals--some in a stupor from drink or drugs, sometied hand and foot, struggling and cursing with returning reason. 

Equipped thus, the _Wilmington_, bound for Melbourne, discharged hertug and pilot off Sandy Hook one summer morning, and, with a freshquartering wind and raising sea, headed for the southeast. The day wasspent in getting her sail on, and in the "licking into shape" of themen as fast as they recovered their senses. Oaths and missiles flewabout the deck, knock-downs were frequent, and by eight bells in theevening, when the two mates chose the watches, --much as boys choosesides in a ball game, --the sailors were well convinced that theirmasters lived aft. 

Three men, long-haired fellows, sprawling on the main-hatch, helplessfrom seasickness, were left to the last in the choosing and thenhustled into the light from the near-by galley door to be examined. They had been dragged from the forecastle at the mate's call for "allhands. "

"Call yourselves able seamen, I suppose, " he said with an oath, as heglared into their woebegone faces. 

"No, pard, " said the tallest and oldest of the three, in a weak voice. "We're not seamen; we don't know how we got here, neither. "

The mate's answer was a fist-blow under the ear that sent the manheadlong into the scuppers, where he lay quiet. 

"Say 'sir' when you speak to me, you bandy-legged farmers, " he snarled, glowering hard at the other two, as they leaned against the water-tank. "I'm pard to none of ye. "

They made him no answer, and he turned away in contempt. "Mr. Tomm, " hecalled, "want these Ethiopians in your watch?"

"No, sir, " said the second mate; "I don't want 'em. They're no more use'an a spare pump. "

"I'll make 'em useful 'fore I'm done with 'em. Go forrard, you three. Get the bile out o' yer gizzards 'fore mornin', 'f ye value yer goodlooks. " He delivered a vicious kick at each of the two standing men, bawled out, "Relieve the wheel an' lookout--that'll do the watch, " andwent aft, while the crew assisted the seasick men to the forecastle andinto three bedless bunks--bedless, because sailors must furnish theirown, and these men had been shanghaied. 

The wind died away during the night, and they awoke in the morning withtheir seasickness gone and appetites ravenous. Somber and ominous wastheir bearing as they silently ate of the breakfast in the forecastleand stepped out on deck with the rest in answer to the mate's roar:"All hands spread dunnage. " Having no dunnage but what they wore, theydrew off toward the windlass and conferred together while chests andbags were dragged out on deck and overhauled by the officers for whiskyand sheath-knives. What they found of the former they pocketed, and ofthe latter, tossed overboard. 

"Where are the canal-drivers?" demanded the chief mate, as he raisedhis head from the last chest. "Where are our seasick gentlemen, whosleep all night--what--what----" he added in a stutter of surprise. 

He was looking down three eight-inch barrels of three heavy Coltrevolvers, cocked, and held by three scowling, sunburnt men, each ofwhom was tucking with disengaged left hand the corner of a shirt into awaistband, around which was strapped a belt full of cartridges. 

"Hands up!" snapped the tall man; "hands up, every one of ye! Up with'em--over yer heads. That's right!" The pistols wandered around theheads of the crowd, and every hand was elevated. 

"What's this? What d' ye mean? Put them pistols down. Give 'em up. Layaft, there, some o' ye, and call the captain, " blustered the mate, withhis hands held high. 

Not a man stirred to obey. The scowling faces looked deadly in earnest. 

"Right about, face!" commanded the tall man. "March, every man--back tothe other end o' the boat. Laramie, take the other side and round upanybody ye see. Now, gentlemen, hurry. "

Away went the protesting procession, and, joined by the carpenter, sail-maker, donkey-man, and cook, "rounded up" from their sanctums bythe man called Laramie, it had reached the main-hatch before thecaptain, pacing the quarter-deck, was aware of the disturbance. WithCaptain Belchior to think was to act. Springing to the cabin skylight, he shouted: "Steward, bring up my pistols. Bear a hand. Lower yourweapons, you scoundrels; this is rank mutiny. "

A pistol spoke, and the captain's hat left his head. "There goes yourhat, " said a voice; "now for a button. " Another bullet sped, which cutfrom his coat the button nearest his heart. "Come down from there--comedown, " said the voice he had heard. "Next shot goes home. Start while Icount three. One--two----" Captain Belchior descended the steps. "Handsup, same as the rest. " Up went the captain's hands; such marksmanshipwas beyond his philosophy. "'Pache, " went on the speaker, "go up thereand get the guns he wanted. " The steward, with two bright revolvers inhis hands, was met at the companion-hatch by a man with but one; butthat one was so big, and the hand which held it was so steady, that itwas no matter of surprise that he obeyed the terse command, "Fork over, handles first. " The captain's nickel-plated pistols went into thepockets of 'Pache's coat, and the white-faced steward, poked in theback by the muzzle of that big firearm, marched to the main-deck andjoined the others. 

"Go down that place, 'Pache, and chase out any one else ye find, "called the leader from behind the crowd. "Bring 'em all down here. "

'Pache descended, and reappeared with a frightened cabin-boy, whom, with the man at the wheel, he drove before him to the steps. There wasno wind, and the ship could spare the helmsman. 

"Now, then, gentlemen, " said the tall leader, "I reckon we're all here. Keep yer hands up. We'll have a powwow. 'Pache, stay up there, and you, Laramie, cover 'em from behind. Plug the first man that moves. "

He mounted the steps to the quarter-deck, and, as he replaced emptyshells with cartridges, looked down on them with a serene smile on hisnot ill-looking face. His voice, except when raised in accents ofcommand, had in it the musical, drawling, plaintive tone so peculiar tothe native Texan--and so deceptive. The other two, younger and roughermen, looked, as they glanced at their victims through the sights of thepistols, as though they longed for the word of permission to riddle theship's company with bullets. 

"You'll pay for this, you infernal cut-throats, " spluttered thecaptain. "This is piracy. "

"Don't call any names now, " said the tall man; "'t ain't healthy. Wedon't want to hurt ye, but I tell ye seriously, ye never were nearerdeath than ye are now. It's a risky thing, and a foolish thing, too, gentlemen, to steal three American citizens with guns under theirshirts, and take 'em so far from land as this. Hangin''s the fit andproper punishment for hoss-stealin', but man-stealin''s so great acrime that I'm not right sure what the punishment is. Now, we don'tknow much 'bout boats and ropes, --though we can tie a hangman's knotwhen necessary, --but we do know somethin' 'bout guns and humannatur'--here, you, come 'way from that fence. "

The captain was edging toward a belaying-pin; but he noticed that thespeaker's voice had lost its plaintiveness, and three tubes werelooking at him. He drew inboard, and the leader resumed:

"Now, fust thing, who's foreman o' this outfit? Who's boss?"

"I'm captain here. "

"You are? You are not. I'm captain. Get up on that shanty. " The smallhouse over the mizzen-hatch was indicated, and Captain Belchior climbedit. The tubes were still looking at him. 

"Now, you, there, you man who hit me last night when I was sick, whoare you, and what?"

"Mate, d---- you. "

"Up with you, and don't cuss. You did a cowardly thing, pardner--anunmanly thing--low down and or'nary. You don't deserve to live anylonger; but my darter, back East at school, thinks I've killed enoughmen for one lifetime, and mebbe she's right--mebbe she's right. Anyhow, she don't like it, and that lets you out--though I won't answer for'Pache and Laramie when my back's turned. You kicked 'em both. But I'lljust return the blow. " The mate had but straightened up on top of thehatch-house when the terrible pistol spat out another red tongue, andhis yell followed the report, as he clapped his hand to the ear throughwhich the bullet had torn. 

"Hands up, there!" thundered the shooter, and the mate obeyed, while astream of blood ran down inside his shirt-collar. 

"Any more bosses here?"

The second mate did not respond; but 'Pache's pistol sought him out, and under its influence, and his guttural, "I know you; get up, " hefollowed his superiors. 

"Any more?"

A manly-looking fellow stepped out of the group, and said: "You've gotthe captain and two mates. I'm bo's'n here, and yonder's my mate. We'renext, but we're not bosses in the way o' bein' responsible for anythingthat has happened or might happen to you. We b'long forrard. There's nocall to shoot at the crew, for there's not a man among 'em but what 'udbe glad to see you get ashore, and get there himself. "

"Silence, bo's'n, " bawled the captain. But the voice of authorityseemed pitifully ludicrous and incongruous, coupled with the captain'sposition and attitude, and every face on the deck wore a grin. Theleader noticed the silent merriment, and said:

"Laramie, I reckon these men'll stand. You can come up here. I'mgettin' 'long in years, and kind o' steadyin' down, but I s'pose youand 'Pache want some fun. Start yer whistle and turn loose. "

Up the steps bounded Laramie, and, with a ringing whoop as a prelude, began whistling a clear, musical trill, while 'Pache, growling out, "Dance, dance, ye white-livered coyotes, " sent a bullet through theouter edge of the chief mate's boot-heel. 

"Dance, " repeated Laramie between bars of the music. _Crack, crack_, went the pistols, while bullets rattled around the feet of the men onthe hatch, and Laramie's whistle rose and fell on the soft morning air. 

The sun, who has looked on many scandalous sights, looked on this, andhid his face under a cloud, refusing to witness. For never before hadthe ethics of shipboard life been so outrageously violated. A squatcaptain and two six-foot officers, nearly black in the face from rageand exertion, with hands clasped over their heads, hopped and skippedaround a narrow stage to the accompaniment of pistol reportsharmoniously disposed among the notes of a whistled tune, while bulletsgrazed their feet, and an unkempt, disfigured, and sore-headed crewlooked on and chuckled. When the mate, weak from loss of blood, felland rolled to the deck, the leader stopped the entertainment. 

"Now, gentlemen, " he said in his serious voice, "I'm called Pecos Tom, and I've had considerable experience in my time, but this is my fustwith human creatur's so weak and thoughtless that they'll drug andsteal three men without takin' their guns away from them. And so, on'count o' this shiftless improvidence, I reckon this boat will have toturn round and go back. "

They bound them, rolled and kicked the two mates to the rail, liftedthe captain to his feet, and then the leader said significantly:

"Give the right and proper order to yer men to turn this boat round. "

With his face working convulsively, Captain Belchior glanced at hiscaptors, at his eager, waiting crew, at the wheel without a helmsman, at a darkening of the water on the starboard bow to the southward, upaloft, and back again at the three frowning muzzles so close to hishead. 

"One hand to the wheel! Square in main and cro'-jack yards!" he called. He was conquered. 

With a hurrah which indicated the sincerity of these orders, the crewsprang to obey them, and with foreyards braced to starboard andhead-sheets flat, the ship _Wilmington_ paid off, wore around, andbringing the young breeze on the port quarter, steadied down to acourse for Sandy Hook, which the captain, with hands released, butstill under the influence of those threatening pistols, worked out fromthe mate's dead-reckoning. Then he was pinioned again, but allowed topace the deck and watch his ship, while the two officers were keptunder the rail, sometimes stepped upon or kicked, and often admonishedon the evil of their ways. 

Early passengers on the East River ferryboats were treated to a novelsight next morning, which they appreciated according to their nauticalknowledge. A lofty ship, with sky-sails and royals hanging in thebuntlines, and jibs tailing ahead like flags, was charging up theharbor before a humming southerly breeze, followed by an elbowing crowdof puffing, whistling, snub-nosed tugs. It was noticeable that whenevera fresh tug arrived alongside, little white clouds left herquarter-deck, and that tug suddenly sheered off to take a position inthe parade astern. Abreast of Governor's Island, topgallant-halyardswere let go, as were those of the jibs; but no cluing up or haulingdown was done, nor were any men seen on her forecastle-deck gettingready lines or ground-tackle. She passed the Battery and up the EastRiver, craft of all kinds getting out of her way, --for it was obviousthat something was wrong with her, --until, rounding slowly to astarboard wheel, with canvas rattling and running-gear in bights, sheheaded straight for a slip partly filled with canal-boats. Now hertopsail-halyards were let go, and three heavy yards came down by therun, breaking across the caps; and amid a grinding, creaking, andcrashing of riven timbers, and a deafening din of applauding tugwhistles, she plowed her way into the nest of canal-boats and came to astop. 

Then was a hejira. Down her black sides by ropes and chain-plates, tothe wrecked and sinking canal-boats, --some with bags or chests, somewithout, --came eager men, who climbed to the dock, and answering noquestions of the gathering crowd of dock-loungers, scattered into theside-streets. Then three other men appeared on the rail, who shooktheir fists, and swore, and shouted for the police, callingparticularly for the apprehension of three dark-faced, long-hairedfellows with big hats. 

In the light of later developments it is known that the policeresponded, and with the assistance of boarding-house runners gatheredin that day nearly all of this derelict crew, --even to the cautiousboatswain, --who were promptly and severely punished for mutiny anddesertion. But the later developments failed to show that the threedark-faced men were ever seen again. 

PRIMORDIAL

Gasping, blue in the face, half drowned, the boy was flungspitefully--as though the sea scorned so poor a victory--high on thesandy beach, where succeeding shorter waves lapped at him and retired. The encircling life-buoy was large enough to permit his crouchingwithin it. Pillowing his head on one side of the smooth ring, he wailedhoarsely for an interval, then slept--or swooned. The tide went downthe beach, the typhoon whirled its raging center off to sea, and thetropic moon shone out, lighting up, between the beach and barrier reef, a heaving stretch of oily lagoon on which appeared and disappearedhundreds of shark-fins quickly darting, and, out on the barrier reef, perched high, yet still pounded by the ocean combers raised by thestorm, a fragment of ship's stern with a stump of mizzenmast. Theelevated position of the fragment, the quickly darting dorsal fins, andthe absence of company for the child on the beach spoke, too plainly, of shipwreck, useless boats, and horrible death. 

Sharks must sleep like other creatures, and they nestle in hollows atthe bottom and in coral caves, or under overhanging ledges of the reefswhich attract them. The first swimmer may pass safely by night, seldomthe second. Like she-wolves, fiendish cats, and vicious horses, theyhave been known to show mercy to children. For one or both reasons, this child had drifted to the beach unharmed. 

Anywhere but on a bed of hot sand near the equator the sleep in wetclothing of a three-year-old boy might have been fatal; but salt watercarries its own remedy for the evils of its moisture, and he wakened atdaylight with strength to rise and cry out his protest of lonelinessand misery. His childish mind could record facts, but not their reasonor coherency. He was in a new, an unknown world. His mother had filledhis old; where was she now? Why had she tied him into that thing andthrown him from her into the darkness and wet? Strange things hadhappened, which he dimly remembered. He had been roused from his sleep, dressed, and taken out of doors in the dark, where there were frightfulcrashing noises, shoutings of men, and crying of women and otherchildren. He had cried himself, from sympathy and terror, until hismother had thrown him away. Had he been bad? Was she angry? And afterthat--what was the rest? He was hungry and thirsty now. Why did shenot come? He would go and find her. 

With the life-buoy hanging about his waist--though of cork, a heavyweight for him--he toddled along the beach to where it ended at amassive ridge of rock that came out of the wooded country inland andextended into the lagoon as an impassable point. He called the chiefword in his vocabulary again and again, sobbing between calls. She wasnot there, or she would have come; so he went back, glancing fearfullyat the dark woods of palm and undergrowth. She might be in there, buthe was afraid to look. His little feet carried him a full half-mile inthe other direction before the line of trees and bushes reached soclose to the beach as to stop him. Here he sat down, screamingpassionately and convulsively for his mother. 

Crying is an expense of energy which must be replenished by food. Whenhe could cry no longer he tugged at the straps and strings of thelife-buoy. But they were wet and hard, his little fingers were weak, and he knew nothing of knots and their untying, so it was well ontoward midday before he succeeded in scrambling out of the meshes, bywhich time he was famished, feverish with thirst, and all butsunstruck. He wandered unsteadily along the beach, fallingoccasionally, moaning piteously through his parched, open lips; andwhen he reached the obstructing ridge of rock, turned blindly into thebushes at its base, and followed it until he came to a pool of waterformed by a descending spray from above. From this, on his hands andknees, he drank deeply, burying his lips as would an animal. 

Instinct alone had guided him here, away from the salt pools on thebeach, and impelled him to drink fearlessly. It was instinct--afamiliar phase in a child--that induced him to put pebbles, twigs, andsmall articles in his mouth until he found what was pleasant to histaste and eatable--nuts and berries; and it was instinct, the mostancient and deeply implanted, --the lingering index of an arborealancestry, --that now taught him the safety and comfort of these woodyshades, and, as night came on, prompted him--as it prompts a drowningman to reach high, and leads a creeping babe to a chair--to attemptclimbing a tree. Failing in this from lack of strength, he mounted therocky wall a few feet, and here, on a narrow ledge, after indulging ina final fit of crying, he slept through the night, not comfortably onso hard a bed, but soundly. 

During the day, while he had crawled about at the foot of the rocks, wild hogs, marsupial animals, and wood-rats had examined himsuspiciously through the undergrowth and decamped. As he slept, howlingnight-dogs came up, sniffed at him from a safe distance, and scatteredfrom his vicinity. He would have yielded in a battle with a pugnaciouskitten, but these creatures recognized a prehistoric foe, and would notabide with him. 

A week passed before he had ceased to cry and call for his mother; butfrom this on her image grew fainter, and in a month the infantintelligence had discarded it. He ate nuts and berries as he foundthem, drank from the pool, climbed the rocks and strolled in the wood, played on the beach with shells and fragments of splintered wreckage, wore out his clothes, and in another month was naked; for when buttonsand vital parts gave way and a garment fell, he let it lie. But heneeded no clothes, even at night; for it was southern summer, and thenortheast monsoon, adding its humid warmth to the radiating heat fromthe sun-baked rocks, kept the temperature nearly constant. 

He learned to avoid the sun at midday, and, free from contagion andmotherly coddling, escaped many of the complaints which torture andkill children; yet he suffered frightfully from colic until his stomachwas accustomed to the change of diet, by which time he was emaciated toskin and bone. Then a reaction set in, and as time passed he gainedhealthy flesh and muscle on the nitrogenous food. 

Six months from the time of his arrival, another storm swept the beach. Pelted by the warm rain, terror-stricken, he cowered under the rocksthrough the night, and at daylight peered out on the surf-washed sands, heaving lagoon, and white line of breakers on the barrier reef. Theshort-lived typhoon had passed, but the wind still blew slantingly onthe beach with force enough to raise a turmoil of crashing sea andundertow in the small bay formed by the extension of the wall. Thefragment of ship's stern on the reef had disappeared; but a half-mileto the right--directly in the eye of the wind--was another wreck, andsomewhat nearer, on the heaving swell of the lagoon, a black spot, which moved and approached. It came down before the wind and resolvedinto a closely packed group of human beings, some of whom tuggedfrantically at the oars of the water-logged boat which held them, others of whom as frantically bailed with caps and hands. Escorting theboat was a fleet of dorsal fins, and erect in the stern-sheets was awhite-faced woman, holding a child in one arm while she endeavored toremove a circular life-buoy from around her waist. At first headingstraight for the part of the beach where the open-eyed boy waswatching, the boat now changed its course and by desperate exertion ofthe rowers reached a position from which it could drift to leeward ofthe point and its deadly maelstrom. With rowers bailing and thewhite-faced woman seated, fastening the child in the life-buoy, theboat, gunwale-deep, and the gruesome guard of sharks drifted out ofsight behind the point. The boy had not understood; but he had seen hiskind, and from association of ideas appreciated again hisloneliness--crying and wailing for a week; but not for his mother: hehad forgotten her. 

With the change of the monsoon came a lowering of the temperature. Naked and shelterless, he barely survived the first winter, tropicalthough it was. But the second found him inured to the surroundings--hardyand strong. When able to, he climbed trees and found birds' eggs, whichhe accidentally broke and naturally ate. It was a pleasant relief froma purely vegetable diet, and he became a proficient egg-thief; then thebirds built their nests beyond his reach. Once he was savagely peckedby an angry brush-turkey and forced to defend himself. It aroused acombativeness and destructiveness that had lain dormant in his nature. 

Children the world over epitomize in their habits and thoughts theinfancy of the human race. Their morals and modesty, as well as theirgames, are those of paleolithic man, and they are as remorselesslycruel. From the day of his fracas with the turkey he was a hunter--ofgrubs, insects, and young birds; but only to kill, maim, or torture; hedid not eat them, because hunger was satisfied, and he possessed achild's dislike of radical change. 

Deprived of friction with other minds, he was slower than his socialprototype in the reproduction of the epochs. At a stage when most boysare passing through the age of stone, with its marbles, caves, andslings, he was yet in the earlier arboreal period--a climber--and wouldswing from branch to branch with almost the agility of an ape. 

On fine, sunny days, influenced by the weather, he would laugh andshout hilariously; a gloomy sky made him morose. When hurt, or angeredby disappointment in the hunt, he would cry out inarticulately; buthaving no use for language, did not talk, hence did not think, as theterm is understood. His mind received the impressions of his senses, and could fear, hate, and remember, but knew nothing of love, fornothing lovable appealed to it. He could hardly reason, as yet; hisshadow puzzled, angered, and annoyed him until he noticed itsconcomitance with the sun, when he reversed cause and effect, considered it a beneficent, mysterious Something that had life, andendeavored by gesture and grimace to placate and please it. It was hisbeginning of religion. 

His dreams were often horrible. Strange shapes, immense snakes andreptiles, and nondescript monsters made up of prehistoric legs, teeth, and heads, afflicted his sleep. He had never seen them; they were aninheritance, but as real to him as the sea and sky, the wind and rain. 

Every six months, at the breaking up of the monsoon, would come squallsand typhoons--full of menace, for his kindly, protecting shadow thendeserted him. One day, when about ten years old, during a wild burst ofstorm, he fled down the beach in an agony of terror; for, consideringall that moved as alive, he thought that the crashing sea and swaying, falling trees were attacking him, and, half buried in the sand near thebushes, found the forgotten life-buoy, stained and weather-worn. It wasquiescent, and new to him, --like nothing he had seen, --and he clung toit. At that moment the sun appeared, and in a short time the storm hadpassed. He carried the life-buoy back with him--spurning andthreatening his delinquent shadow--and looked for a place to put it, deciding at last on a small cave in the rocky wall near to the pool. Ina corner of this he installed the ring of cork and canvas, and remainedby it, patting and caressing it. When it rained again, he appreciated, for the first time, the comfort of shelter, and became a cave-dweller, with a new god--a fetish, to which he transferred his allegiance andobeisance because more powerful than his shadow. 

From correlation of instincts, he now entered the age of stone. He nolonger played with shells and sticks, but with pebbles, which hegathered, hoarded in piles, and threw at marks, --to be gatheredagain, --seldom entering the woods but for food and the relaxation ofthe hunt. But with his change of habits came a lessening of his crueltyto defenseless creatures, --not that he felt pity: he merely found nomore amusement in killing and tormenting, --and in time he transferredhis antagonism to the sharks in the lagoon, their dorsal fins makingfamous targets for his pebbles. He needed no experience with thesepirates to teach him to fear and hate them, and when he bathed--whichhabit he acquired as a relief from the heat, and indulged daily--hechose a pool near the rocks that filled at high tide, and in it learnedto swim, paddling like a dog. 

And so the boy, blue-eyed and fair at the beginning, grew to earlymanhood, as handsome an animal as the world contains, tall, straight, and clean-featured, with steady eyes wide apart, and skin--the color ofold copper from sun and wind--covered with a fine, soft down, which atthe age of sixteen had not yet thickened on his face to beard andmustache, though his wavy brown hair reached to his shoulders. 

At this period a turning-point appeared in his life which gave animpetus to his almost stagnant mental development--his food-supplydiminished and his pebble-supply gave out completely, forcing him towander. Pebble-throwing was his only amusement; pebble-gathering hisonly labor; eating was neither. He browsed and nibbled at all hours ofthe day, never knowing the sensation of a full stomach, and, untillately, of an empty one. To this, perhaps, may be ascribed hiswonderful immunity from sickness. In collecting pebbles his method wasto carry as many as his hands would hold to a pile on the beach and goback for more; and in the six years of his stone-throwing he had foundand thrown at the sharks every stone as small as his fist, within asector formed by the beach and the rocky wall to an equal distanceinland. The fruits, nuts, edible roots, and grasses growing in thisarea had hitherto supported him, but would no longer, owing to adrought of the previous year, which, luckily, had not affected hiswater-supply. 

One morning, trembling with excitement, eye and ear on the alert, --as ahigh-spirited horse enters a strange pasture, --he ventured past thejunction of bush and tide-mark, and down the unknown beach beyond. Hefilled his hands with the first pebbles he found, but noticing theplentiful supply on the ground ahead of him, dropped them and went on;there were other things to interest him. A broad stretch of undulating, scantily wooded country reached inland from the convex beach of sandand shells to where it met the receding line of forest and bush behindhim; and far away to his right, darting back and forth among straybushes and sand-hummocks, were small creatures--strange, unlike thosehe knew, but in regard to which he felt curiosity rather than fear. 

He traveled around the circle of beach, and noticed that the movingcreatures fled at his approach. They were wild hogs, hunted of mensince hunting began. He entered the forest about midday, and emerging, found himself on a pebbly beach similar to his own, and facing acontinuation of the rocky wall, which, like the other end, dipped intothe lagoon and prevented further progress. He was thirsty, and found apool near the rocks; hungry, and he ate of nuts and berries which herecognized. Puzzled by the reversal of perspective and the similarityof conditions, he proceeded along the wall, dimly expecting to find hiscave. But none appeared, and, mystified, --somewhat frightened, --heplunged into the wood, keeping close to the wall and looking sharplyabout him. Like an exiled cat or a carrier-pigeon, he was making astraight line for home, but did not know it. 

His progress was slow, for boulders, stumps, and rising ground impededhim. Darkness descended when he was but half-way home and nearly on alevel with the top of the wall. Forced to stop, he threw himself down, exhausted, yet nervous and wakeful, as any other animal in a strangeplace. But the familiar moon came out, shining through the foliage, andthis soothed him into a light slumber. 

He was wakened by a sound near by that he had heard all his life at adistance--a wild chorus of barking. It was coming his way, and hecrouched and waited, grasping a stone in each hand. The barking, interspersed soon with wheezing squeals, grew painfully loud, andculminated in vengeful growls, as a young pig sprang into a patch ofmoonlight, with a dozen dingoes--night-dogs--at its heels. In theexcitement of pursuit they did not notice the crouching boy, butpounced on the pig, tore at it, snapping and snarling at one another, and in a few minutes the meal was over. 

Frozen with terror at this strange sight, the boy remained quiet untilthe brutes began sniffing and turning in his direction; then he stooderect, and giving vent to a scream which rang through the forest, hurled the two stones with all his strength straight at the nearest. Hewas a good marksman. Agonized yelps followed the impact of stone andhide; two dogs rolled over and over, then, gaining their feet, spedafter their fleeing companions, while the boy sat down, trembling inevery limb--completely unnerved. Yet he knew that he was the cause oftheir flight. With a stone in each hand, he watched and waited untildaylight, then arose and went on homeward, with a new and intenseemotion--not fear of the dingoes: he was the superior animal, and knewit--not pity for the pig: he had not developed to the pitying stage. Hewas possessed by a strong, instinctive desire to emulate the dogs andeat of animal food. It did not come of his empty stomach; he felt itafter he had satisfied his hunger on the way; and as he plodded downthe slope toward his cave, gripped his missiles fiercely and watchedsharply for small animals--preferably pigs. 

But no pigs appeared. He reached his cave, and slept all day and thefollowing night, waking in the morning hungry, and with the memory ofhis late adventure strong in his mind. He picked up the two stones hehad brought home, and started down the beach, but stopped, came back, and turned inland by the wall; then he halted again and retraced hissteps--puzzled. He pondered awhile, --if his mental processes may be sotermed, --then walked slowly down the beach, entered the bush a shortdistance, turned again to the wall, and gained his starting-point. Thenhe reversed the trip, and coming back by way of the beach, struckinland with a clear and satisfied face. He had solved the problem--anew and hard one for him--that of two roads to a distant place; and hehad chosen the shortest. 

In a few hours he reached his late camping-spot, and crouched to theearth, listening for barking and squealing--for a pig to be chased hisway. But dingoes hunt only by night, and unmolested pigs do not squeal. Impatient at last, he went on through the forest in the direction fromwhich they had come, until he reached the open country where he hadfirst seen them; and here, rooting under the bushes at the margin ofthe wood, he discovered a family--a mother and four young ones--whichhad possibly contained the victim of the dogs. He stalked them slowlyand cautiously, keeping bushes between himself and them, but was seenby the mother when about twenty yards away. She sniffed suspiciously, then, with a warning grunt and a scattering of dust and twigs, scurriedinto the woods, with her brood--all but one--in her wake. 

A frightened pig is as easy a target as a darting dorsal fin, and a fatsuckling lay kicking convulsively on the ground. He hurried up, thehunting gleam bright in his eyes, and hurled the second stone at thelittle animal. It still kicked, and he picked up the first stone, thinking it might be more potent to kill, and crashed it down on theunfortunate pig's head. It glanced from the head to the other stone andstruck a spark--which he noticed. 

The pig now lay still, and satisfied that he had killed it, he tried torepeat the carom, but failed. Yet the spark had interested him, --hewanted to see it again, --and it was only after he had reduced the pig'shead to a pulp that he became disgusted and angrily threw the stone inhis hand at the one on the ground. The resulting spark delighted him. He repeated the experiment again and again, each concussion drawing aspark, and finally used one stone as a hammer on the other, with thesame result--to him, a bright and pretty thing, very small, but alive, which came from either of the dead stones. Tired of the play at last, he turned to the pig--the food that he had yearned for. 

It was well for him, perhaps, that the initial taste of bristle and fatprevented his taking the second mouthful. Slightly nauseated, hedropped the carcass and turned to go, but immediately bounded in theair with a howl of pain. His left foot was red and smarting. Once hehad cut it on a sharp shell, and now searched for a wound, but foundnone. Rubbing increased the pain. Looking on the ground for the cause, he discovered a wavering, widening ring of strange appearance, andwithin it a blackened surface on which rested the two stones. They weredry flint nodules, and he had set fire to the grass with the sparks. 

Considering this to be a new animal that had attacked him, he pelted itwith stones, dancing around it in a rage and shouting hoarsely. Hemight have conquered the fire and never invoked it again, had not thesupply of stones in the vicinity given out, or those he had used growntoo hot to handle; for he stayed the advancing flame at one side. Butthe other side was creeping on, and he used dry branches, dropping tohis hands and knees to pound the fire, fighting bravely, crying outwith pain as he burned himself, and forced to drop stick after stickwhich caught fire. Soon it grew too hot to remain near, and he stoodoff and launched fuel at it, which resulted in a fair-sized bonfire;then, in desperation and fear, he hurled the dead pig--the cause of thetrouble--at the terrible monster, and fled. 

Looking back through the trees to see if he was pursued, he noticedthat the strange enemy had taken new shape and color; it was reachingup into the air, black and cloud-like. Frightened, tired mentally andphysically, and suffering keenly from his burns, he turned his back onthe half-solved problem and endeavored to satisfy his hunger. But hewas on strange territory and found little of his accustomed food; thechafing and abrading contact of bushes and twigs irritated his sorespots, preventing investigation and rapid progress, and at the end ofthree hours, still hungry, and exasperated by his torment into areckless, fighting mood, he picked up stones and returned savagely tobattle again with the enemy. But the enemy was dead. The grass hadburned to where it met dry earth, and the central fire was now ablack-and-white pile of still warm ashes, on which lay the charred anddenuded pig, giving forth a savory odor. Cautiously approaching, hestudied the situation, then, yielding to an irresistible impulse, seized the pig and ran through the woods to the wall and down to hiscave. 

Two hours later he was writhing on the ground with a violentstomach-ache. It was forty-eight hours after when he ate again, andthen of his old food--nuts and berries. But the craving returned in aweek, and he again killed a pig, but was compelled to forego eating itfor lack of fire. 

Though he had discovered fire and cooked food, his only conception ofthe process, so far, was that the mysterious enemy was too powerful forhim to kill, that it would eat sticks and grass but did not likestones, and that a dead pig could kill it, and in the conflict be madeeatable. It was only after months of playing with flints and sparksthat he recognized the part borne by dry grass or moss, and that withthese he could create it at will; that a dead pig, though alwaysimproved by the effort, could not be depended upon to kill it unlessthe enemy was young and small, --when stones would answer as well, --andthat he could always kill it himself by depriving it of food. 

It is hardly possible that animal food produced a direct effect on hismind; but the effort to obtain it certainly did, arousing his torpidfaculties to a keener activity. He grasped the relation of cause toeffect--seeing one, he looked for the other. He noticed resemblancesand soon realized the common attributes of fire and the sun; and, ashis fetish was not always good to him, --the sun and storm seeming tofollow their own sweet will in spite of his unspoken faith in thelifebuoy, --he again became an apostate, transferring his allegiance tothe sun, of which the friendly fire was evidently a part or symbol. Hedid not discard his dethroned fetish completely; he still kept it inhis cave to punch, kick, and revile by gestures and growls at timeswhen the sun was hidden, retaining this habit from his former faith. The life-buoy was now his devil--a symbol of evil, or what was the sameto him--discomfort; for he had advanced in religious thought to a pointwhere he needed one. Every morning when the sun shone, and at itsreappearance after the rain, he prostrated himself in a patch ofsun-light--this and the abuse of the life-buoy becoming ceremonies inhis fire-worship. 

In time he became such a menace to the hogs that they climbed the wallat the high ground and disappeared in the country beyond. And afterthem went the cowardly dingoes that preyed on their young. Rodentanimals, more difficult to hunt, and a species of small kangaroofurnished him occupation and food until they, too, emigrated, when hewas forced to follow; he was now a carnivorous animal, no longersatisfied with vegetable food. 

The longer hunts brought with them a difficulty which spurred him tofurther invention. He could carry only as many stones as his handswould hold, and often found himself far from his base of supply, withgame in sight, and without means to kill it. The pouch in which themother kangaroo carried her young suggested to his mind a likecontrivance for carrying stones. Since he had cut his foot on theshell, he had known the potency of a sharp edge, but not until heneeded to remove charred and useless flesh from his food did heappreciate the utility. It was an easy advance for him roughly to skina female kangaroo and wear the garment for the pocket's sake. But itchafed and irritated him; so, cutting off the troublesome parts littleby little, he finally reduced it to a girdle which held only the pouch. And in this receptacle he carried stones for throwing and shells forcutting, his expeditions now extending for miles beyond the wall, andonly limited by the necessity of returning for water, of which, in thelimestone rock, there were plenty of pools and trickling springs. 

He learned that no stones but the dry flints he found close to the wallwould strike sparks; but, careless, improvident, petulant child ofnature that he was, he exhausted the supply, and one day, too indolentto search his hunting-tracts to regain the necessary two, he endeavoredto draw fire from a pair that he dug from the moist earth, and failing, threw them with all his strength at the rocky wall. One of themshivered to irregular pieces, the other parted with a flake--a six-inchdagger-like fragment, flat on one side, convex on the other, with sharpedges that met in a point at one end, and at the other, where lay thecone of percussion, rounded into a roughly cylindrical shape, convenient for handling. Though small, no flint-chipping savage of thestone age ever made a better knife, and he was quick to appreciate itssuperiority to a shell. 

Like most discoveries and inventions that have advanced the human race, his were, in the main, accidental; yet he could now reason from theaccidental to the analogous. Idly swinging his girdle around his head, one day, and letting go, he was surprised at the distance to which, with little effort, he could send the stone-laden pouch. Months ofpuzzled experimenting produced a sling--at first with a thong of hidefast to each stone, later with the double thong and pouch that smallboys and savages have not yet improved upon. 

To this centrifugal force, which he could use without whollyunderstanding, he added the factor of a rigid radius--a handle to aheavy stone; for only with this contrivance could he break large flintsand open cocoanuts--an article of good food that he had passed by allhis life and wondered at until his knife had divided a green one. Hisexperiments in this line resulted in a heavy, sharp-edged, solid-backedflint, firmly bound with thongs to the end of a stick, --a rudetomahawk, --convenient for the _coup de grâce_. 

The ease with which he could send a heavy stone out of sight, or bury asmaller one in the side of a hog at short range, was wonderful to him;but he was twenty years old before, by daily practice with his sling, he brought his marksmanship up to that of his unaided hand, equal towhich, at an earlier date, was his skill at hatchet-throwing. He couldoutrun and tomahawk the fastest hog, could bring down with his sling akangaroo on the jump or a pigeon on the wing, could smell anddistinguish game to windward with the keen scent of a hound, and becameso formidable an enemy of his troublesome rivals, the dingoes, --whoseflesh he disapproved of, --and the sharks in the lagoon, that the onedeserted his hunting-ground and the other seldom left the reef. 

He broke or lost one knife and hatchet after another, and learned, inmaking new ones, that he could chip them into improved shape whenfreshly dug, and that he must allow them to dry before using--when theywere also available for striking fire. He had enlarged his pocket, making a better one of a whole skin by roughly sewing the edgestogether with thongs, first curing the hide by soaking in salt waterand scraping with his knife. His food-list now embraced shellfish andbirds, wild yams, breadfruit, and cocoanuts, which, even the latter, hecooked before eating and prepared before cooking. Pushed by anever-present healthy appetite, and helped by inherited instincts basedon the habits and knowledge of a long line of civilized ancestry, hehad advanced in four years from an indolent, mindless existence to aplane of fearless, reasoning activity. He was a hunter of prowess, master of his surroundings, lord over all creatures he had seen, and, though still a cave-dweller when at home, in a fair way to become ahut-builder, herdsman, and agriculturist; for he had arranged boughs toshelter him from the rain when hunting, had attempted to block up thepass over the wall to prevent the further wanderings of a herd of hogsthat he had pursued, and had lately become interested in the sproutingof nuts and seeds and the encroachments and changes of the vegetation. 

Yet he lacked speech, and did his thinking without words. Thedeficiency was not accompanied by the unpleasant twisted features andgrimacing of mutes, which comes of conscious effort to communicate. Hisfeatures were smooth and regular, his mouth symmetrical and firm, andhis clear blue eye thoughtful and intent as that of a student; for hehad studied and thought. He would smile and frown, laugh and shout, growl and whine, the pitch and timbre of his inarticulate utteranceindicating the emotion which prompted it to about the same degree asdoes an intelligent dog's language to his master. But dogs and othersocial animals converse in a speech beyond human ken; and in thisrespect he was their inferior, for he had not yet known the need oflanguage, and did not, until, one day, in a section of his domain thathe had never visited before, --because game avoided it, --down by the seaon the side of the wall opposite to his cave, he met a creature likehimself. 

He had come down the wooded slope on the steady jog-trot he assumedwhen traveling, tomahawk in hand, careless, confident, and happybecause of the bright sunshine and his lately appeased hunger, and, ashe bounded on to the beach with a joyous whoop, was startled by ananswering scream. 

Mingled with the frightful monsters in the dreams of his childhoodhad been transient glimpses of a kind, placid face that he seemedto know--a face that bent over him lovingly and kissed him. Thesewere subconscious memories of his mother, which lasted long afterhe had forgotten her. As he neared manhood, strange yearnings hadcome to him--a dreary loneliness and craving for company. In hissleep he had seen fleeting visions of forms and faces like hisreflection in a pool--like, yet unlike; soft, curving outlines, tinted cheeks, eyes that beamed, and white, caressing handsappeared and disappeared--fragmentary and illusive. He could notdistinctly remember them when he wakened, but their influence madehim strangely happy, strangely miserable; and while the mood lastedhe could not hunt and kill. 

Standing knee-deep in a shallow pool on the beach, staring at him withwide-open dark eyes, was the creature that had screamed--a living, breathing embodiment of the curves and color, the softness, brightness, and gentle sweetness that his subconsciousness knew. There were thefamiliar eyes, dark and limpid, wondering but not frightened; two whitelittle teeth showing between parted lips; a wealth of long brown hairheld back from the forehead by a small hand; and a rounded, dimpledcheek, the damask shading of which merged delicately into the olivetint that extended to the feet. No Venus ever arose from the sea withrarer lines of beauty than were combined in the picture of lovelinesswhich, backed by the blue of the lagoon, appeared to the astonishedeyes of this wild boy. It was a girl--naked as Mother Eve, and asinnocently shameless. 

In the first confusion of his faculties, when habit and inherentpropensity conflicted, habit dominated his mind. He was ahuntsman--feared and avoided: here was an intruder. He raised hishatchet to throw, but a second impulse brought it slowly down; she hadshown no fear--no appreciation of what the gesture threatened. Droppingthe weapon to the ground, he advanced slowly, the wonder in his facegiving way to a delighted smile, and she came out of the pool to meethim. 

Face to face they looked into each other's eyes--long and earnestly;then, as though the scrutiny brought approval, the pretty features ofthe girl sweetened to a smile, but she did not speak nor attempt to. Stepping past him, she looked back, still smiling, halted until hefollowed, and then led him up to the wall, where, on a level with theground, was a hollow in the formation, somewhat similar to his cave, but larger. Flowering vines grew at the entrance, which had preventedhis seeing it before. She entered, and emerged immediately with alife-buoy, which she held before him, the action and smiling faceindicating her desire that he admire it. 

The boy thought that he saw his property in the possession of anothercreature, and resented the spoliation. With an angry snarl he snatchedthe life-buoy and backed away, while the girl, surprised and a littleindignant, followed with extended hands. He raised it threateningly, and though she did not cower, she knew intuitively that he was angry, and feeling the injustice, burst into tears; then, turning from him, she covered her eyes with her hands and crouched to the ground, sobbingpiteously. 

The face of the boy softened. He looked from the weeping girl to thelife-buoy and back again; then, puzzled, --still believing it to be hisown, --he obeyed a generous impulse. Advancing, he laid the treasure ather feet; but she turned away. Sober-faced and irresolute, not knowingwhat to do, he looked around and above. A pigeon fluttered on a branchat the edge of the wood. He whipped out his sling, loaded it, and senta stone whizzing upward. The pigeon fell, and he was beneath it beforeit reached the ground. Hurrying back with the dead bird, he placed itbefore her; but she shuddered in disgust and would not touch it. Off inthe lagoon a misguided shark was swimming slowly along, --its dorsal fincutting the surface, --a full two hundred yards from the beach. He ranto the water's edge, looked back once, flourished his sling, and twoseconds later the shark was scudding for the reef. If she had seen, sheevidently was not impressed. He returned, picked up his tomahawk on theway, idly and nervously fingered the pebbles in his pocket, stood amoment over the sulky girl, and then studied the life-buoy on theground. A light came to his eyes; with a final glance at the girl hebounded up the slope and disappeared in the woods. 

Three hours later he returned with his discarded fetish, and found hersitting upright, with her life-buoy on her knees. She smiled gladly ashe approached, then pouted, as though remembering. Panting from hisexertion, he humbly placed the faded, scarred, and misshapen ring ontop of the brighter, better-cared-for possession of the girl, andstood, mutely pleading for pardon. It was granted. Smilingradiantly, --a little roguishly, --she arose and led him again to thecave, from which she brought forth another treasure. It was a billet ofwood, --a dead branch, worn smooth at the ends, --around which werewrapped faded, half-rotten rags of calico. Hugging it for a moment, shehanded it to him. He looked at it wonderingly and let it drop, turninghis eyes upon her; then, with impatience in her face, she reclaimed it, entered the cave, --the boy following, --and tenderly placed it in acorner. 

It was her doll. Up to the borders of womanhood--untutored, unlovedwaif of the woods--living through the years of her simple existencealone--she had lavished the instinctive mother-love of her heart on astick, and had clothed it, though not herself. 

With a thoughtful little wrinkle in her brow, she studied the face ofthis new companion who acted so strangely, and he, equally mystified, looked around the cave. A pile of nuts in a corner indicated herhousewifely thrift and forethought. A bed of dry moss with an evenlypacked elevation at the end--which could be nothing but apillow--showed plainly the manner in which she had preserved thevelvety softness of her skin. Tinted shells and strips of faded calico, arranged with some approach to harmony of color around the sides andthe border of the floor, gave evidence of the tutelage of thebower-birds, of which there were many in the vicinity. And the vines atthe entrance had surely been planted--they were far from others of thekind. In her own way she had developed as fully as he. As he stoodthere, wondering at what he saw, the girl approached, slowly andirresolutely; then, raising her hand, she softly pressed the tip of herfinger into his shoulder. 

In the dim and misty ages of the past, when wandering bands of ape-likehuman beings had not developed their tribal customs to the level ofpriestly ceremonies, --when the medicine-man had not arisen, --a marriagebetween a man and young woman was generally consummated by the manbeating the girl into insensibility, and dragging her by the hair tohis cave. Added to its simplicity, the custom had the merit ofimproving the race, as unhealthy and ill-favored girls were notpursued, and similar men were clubbed out of the pursuit by stronger. But the process was necessarily painful to the loved one, and herfemale children very naturally inherited a repugnance to being wooed. 

When a civilized young lady, clothed and well conducted, anticipatesbeing kissed or embraced by her lover, she places in the way suchdifficulties as are in her power; she gets behind tables and chairs, runs from him, compels him to pursue, and expects him to. In hermaidenly heart she may want to be kissed, but she cannot helpresisting. She obeys the same instinct that impelled this wild girl tospring from the outstretched arms of the boy and go screaming out ofthe cave and down the beach in simulated terror--an instinct inheritedfrom the prehistoric mother, who fled for dear life and a whole skinfrom a man behind armed with a club and bent upon marriage. 

Shouting hoarsely, the boy followed, in what, if he had been calledupon to classify it, might have seemed to him a fury of rage, but itwas not. He would not have harmed the girl, for he lacked the tribaleducation that induces cruelty to the weaker sex. But he did not catchher; he stubbed his toe and fell, arising with a bruised kneecap whichprevented further pursuit. Slowly, painfully, he limped back, tearswelling in his eyes and increasing to a copious flood as he sat downwith his back to the girl and nursed his aching knee. It was not thepain that brought the tears; he was hardened to physical suffering. Buthis feelings had been hurt beyond any disappointment of the hunt orterror of the storm, and for the first time in his life since hisbabyhood he wept--like the intellectual child that he was. 

A soft, caressing touch on his head aroused him and brought him to hisfeet. She stood beside him, tears in her own eyes, and sympathyoverflowing in every feature of the sweet face. From her lips camelittle cooing, gurgling sounds which he endeavored to repeat. It wastheir first attempt at communication, and the sounds that theyused--understood by mothers and infants of all races--were the firstroot-words of a new language. He extended his arms, and though she heldback slightly, while a faint smile responded to his own, she did notresist, and he drew her close--forgetting his pain as he pressed hislips to hers.