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diff --git a/13836-h/13836-h.htm b/13836-h/13836-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..c13931d --- /dev/null +++ b/13836-h/13836-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,6476 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Transitional//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-transitional.dtd"> +<html> +<head> +<meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html; charset=UTF-8" /> +<title>The Project Gutenberg eBook of Wide Courses, by James Brendan Connolly</title> + <style title="Standard Format" type="text/css"> + /*<![CDATA[*/ + <!-- + body {margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%;} + p {text-align: justify;} + p.TOC {text-align: left; font-variant: small-caps;} + p.sc {font-variant: small-caps;} + html>body p.TOC {margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%;} + blockquote {text-align: justify;} + h1,h2,h3,h4,h5,h6 {text-align: center;} + hr {text-align: center; width: 50%;} + html>body hr {margin-right: 25%; margin-left: 25%; width: 50%;} + hr.full {width: 100%;} + html>body hr.full {margin-right: 0%; margin-left: 0%; width: 100%;} + hr.short {text-align: center; width: 20%;} + html>body hr.short {margin-right: 40%; margin-left: 40%; width: 20%;} + .footnote {font-size: 0.9em; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%;} + /* To hide page numbers */ + .pagenum { display: none; } + /* To display right-aligned line numbers */ + .poem { + margin: 0em 10% 0em 10%; + text-align: left; + } + .poem .stanza { + margin: 1em 0em 1em 0em; + } + .poem .author { + text-align: right; + } + .poem .line:after { + display: block; + content: attr(title); + text-align: right; + } + /* To indent wrapped lines */ + .poem .line { + height: auto; + margin-left: 3em; + text-indent: -3em; + } + .figure, .figcenter, .figright, .figleft + {padding: 1em; margin: 0; text-align: center; font-size: 0.8em;} + .figure img, .figcenter img, .figright img, .figleft img + {border: none;} + .figure p, .figcenter p, .figright p, .figleft p + {margin: 0; text-align: center;} + .figcenter {margin: auto;} + .figright {float: right;} + .figleft {float: left;} +span.rightnote { +position: absolute; +left: 88%; +right: 1%; +font-size: 0.7em; +border-bottom: solid 1px; +text-align: left; +} +/* Use this if there are inline transliterations. */ +/* [lang][title]:after {content: " [Trans: " attr(title) "]";} */ + a:link {color:blue; + text-decoration:none} + link {color:blue; + text-decoration:none} + a:visited {color:blue; + text-decoration:none} + a:hover {color:red} + pre {font-size: 9pt;} + --> + /*]]>*/ + </style> +</head> +<body> +<div>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 13836 ***</div> +<h1>The Project Gutenberg eBook, Wide Courses, by James Brendan Connolly</h1> + <hr class="full" /> + <br /> + <div class="figcenter"> + <a name="image1" id="image1"></a> <a href="images/image1_full.jpg"><img + src="images/image1_thumbnail.png" + alt="My boy wanted to do the divin', but 'twas me that went down." /></a> + <p>My boy wanted to do the divin', but 'twas me that went down.</p> + </div> + <hr /> + <h1>WIDE COURSES</h1> + <center> + BY + </center> + <center> + JAMES BRENDAN CONNOLLY + </center> + <br /> + + <center> + AUTHOR OF <i>OUT OF GLOUCESTER</i>, <i>THE SEINERS</i>, <i>THE DEEP SEA'S TOIL</i>, <i>THE CRESTED + SEAS</i>, <i>AN OLYMPIC VICTOR</i>, <i>OPEN WATER</i>, ETC. + </center> + <center> + WITH ILLUSTRATIONS + </center> + + <center> + 1912 + </center> + <hr /> + <h2>CONTENTS</h2> + <p class="sc"><a href="#page1">The Wrecker</a><br /> + <a href="#page15">Laying The Hose-Pipe Ghost</a><br /> + <a href="#page45">The Seizure Of The "Aurora Borealis"</a><br /> + <a href="#page77">Light-Ship 67</a><br /> + <a href="#page113">Captain Blaise</a><br /> + <a href="#page171">Don Quixote Kieran, Pump-Man</a><br /> + <a href="#page219">Jan Tingloff</a><br /> + <a href="#page269">Cogan Capeador</a><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <h2>ILLUSTRATIONS</h2> + <p><a href="#image1">My boy wanted to do the divin', but 'twas me that went + down</a></p> + <p><a href="#image2">He brings out the blue-book and shows the boson</a></p> + <p><a href="#image3">Sam made a couple of tremendous swipes, and then down went the + <i>Aurora's</i> captain and one of his crew</a></p> + <p><a href="#image4">By and by he caught an answering call</a></p> + <p><a href="#image5">After a long look I saw that he did not resume his narrative. By + that I knew that the stranger was troubling him</a></p> + <p><a href="#image6">There she was, the <i>Dancing Bess</i>, holding a taut bowline + to the eastward. And there were the two frigates, but they might as well have been + chasing a star</a></p> + <p><a href="#image7">"Don't call me a mutineer, captain—I've disobeyed no + order"</a></p> + <p><a href="#image8">He said he hoped they'd meet again next day and bowed himself + out</a></p> + <hr class="full" /> + <a name="page1" id="page1"></a><span class="pagenum">[pg 1]</span> + <h2>The Wrecker</h2> + <p>Sometimes the notion comes to me while I'm talkin' to people that maybe I don't + make myself clear, and it's been so for some time now—the things I see in my + mind fadin' away from me at times, like ships in a fog. And that's strange enough, + too, if what people tell me so often is true—that it used to be so one time + that the office clerks would correct their account-books by what I told 'em out of my + head. But sometimes—not often—things come back to me, like + to-day—maybe because 'tis a winter day and a gale o' wind drivin' the sea afore + it in the bay below there. Things come to me then—like pictures—wind and + sea and fog and the wrecks on a lee shore.</p> + <p>In my business—but of course you know—runnin' after wrecks, from + Newfoundland to Cuba, I had to be days and maybe weeks away from home—which was + no harm when I had no more home than a room in a sailor's boardin'-house, and no harm + later with Sarah. Even if anything happened to me, I used to feel that + Sarah—that's my <a name="page4" id="page4"></a><span class="pagenum">[pg + 4]</span> first wife—Sarah'd still have the two lads to hearten her and keep + her busy; but 'twas different with—but there, my mind's off again....</p> + <p>Maybe some things—comforts, refinements—I might 'a' practised myself + in, got used to 'em like, but could I see in those early days that I'd ever have a + grand home—me who'd been cast away at fourteen—even if I'd had time? It + was to be able to do without comforts—to make a pleasure out o' + hardship—that meant success almost as much as knowin' the business. And I did + know my business in those days—or people lied a lot. And it always meant more + to me—the name of bein' the great wrecker—than all the money I made, and + in those last few years I made plenty of it—I did that. Me who once slaved for + six dollars a month as boy in a Bangor coaster. And I mind how I used to look back + and say—or was it somebody tellin' me?—that 'twas a great day for me and + mine when the old lumber schooner wrecked herself on Peaked Hill Bar—because + when she was hove down I was hove into a bigger world. Once in my pride I used to + cherish praise like that—but sometimes now I'm not so sure.</p> + <p>And this man, an upstandin' handsome man—no one that knew him but spoke well + of him, to me anyway, for I would not allow aught else after I come to know him. + Since that last wreck it seems <a name="page5" id="page5"></a><span + class="pagenum">[pg 5]</span> to me I've listened to other talk of him, but that's + not so clear to me ... my brain, as I say, clouds up like on things that happened + since.</p> + <p>No one ever met Her—my second wife, that is—but said she was beautiful + and good—said so to me, anyway. It is true—but that came afterward, like + the other talk, and it's not too clear in my mind what they did say. But he came to + me and I liked him. And he liked me, too ... I think he did. He'd heard of me, he + said, and would I examine his yacht—the <i>Rameses</i> that was—to see if + any damage had been done—she'd grounded comin' in by Romer Shoal the day + before. There'd be too much delay to put her in dry dock, and he wanted to sail + soon's could be—if she was sound—on her regular winter West India cruise. + 'Twas in January, a fine clear day, and I said, all right, I'd send my oldest boy + down and look at her. My oldest boy—but you know him? Aye, a grand lad. Both + grand lads. Modelled off their mother, the pair of them. If I'd only a daughter like + her ... the woman she was! A wife for a seafarin' man. "Watch and watch I've stood + wi' ye," she said, goin'—"watch and watch, but I'm no good to see the lights + nor to grip the wheel longer. The sight's gone and the strength, Matt. Watchmate, + bunkmate, and shipmate I've been to ye, but ye're in smooth water now ... and no + longer ye'll need <a name="page6" id="page6"></a><span class="pagenum">[pg 6]</span> + me." A daughter to stand by you she'd be. All my money I'd give for one such.</p> + <p>And while he was in the office She came in. "Ah-h!" he said—and then, "Your + daughter, captain?" I said, "No—my wife," maybe o'er-proudly. I was not ashamed + of my years, for it's not years but age—leastwise so I'd always held—that + sets a man back. Those lads of twenty-five or thirty, I could wear them down like + chalk whetstones. Maybe she heard—I don't know; but she didn't let on she did. + My proud days those were—my office in the big building by the Battery. You + remember? Aye, a grand place—the name in fine letters on the door, and on the + window the picture of my big wreckin'-tug, the best-geared afloat and cost the + most—a sailor's fortune just in her—yes—and I'd named it for Her. + And 'twas to that same office I used often to come straight from my rough seawork. + She used to come there to take me to drive. Me, who'd been a castaway + sailor-boy—but I could afford all these things then. I could afford anything + She wanted. And She wanted the fine office, and so it was fitted up with fine desks + and clerks, though it wasn't what the clerks put in their account-books that kept my + business goin'. There were those who said that I'd pay the price some day for tryin' + to carry so many things in my head, but small heed I paid to <a name="page7" + id="page7"></a><span class="pagenum">[pg 7]</span> them—and 'twasn't in those + days my memory dimmed.</p> + <p>There was but little damage to the yacht's bottom—a small matter to find + that out—though the skipper he carried was no master of craft. So many of them + like that, too. To face the sea like men is not what they're after, not to take + winter or summer as it comes, rough or smooth—no—but always the smooth + water and soft winds. But he did not sail for the West Indies that day, nor that + week, nor winter—something'd gone wrong with the machinery. No concern of mine + that. There were those who said later—but that was when my head begun to + trouble me—as it does now sometimes, as I said. There was a time, when Sarah + was alive, before we had even the old ship's cabin on the end of the old dock by way + of an office, when I carried my business in a wallet in my breast pocket—that + is, what we didn't carry in our heads—but the mother of those two lads, she was + with me then. That's long ago.</p> + <p>A most interestin' man he was. As I say, he made no West India cruise that + winter—the machinery kept gettin' out of order—but he made a few trips + with me—wreckin' trips—for I still looked after the big jobs myself. + There were those who used to say that if I'd only learned to stand by and look on + long enough to train a good man to take <a name="page8" id="page8"></a><span + class="pagenum">[pg 8]</span> my place in the deep divin', that I'd be goin' yet. + Maybe so, but maybe, too, they didn't know it all. I'd yet to meet a man who would do + my work half as well as I could myself—never but one, and she was a woman and + could do her part better—Sarah, my first wife, and her kind aren't livin' + now.</p> + <p>He was not so soft, this yacht man, as I used to think. He stood the rough winter + trips with me well. I learned to like him—rarely. I could talk to him about the + work, and he'd try to understand—as so few of his kind would. He understood + better after he'd been some trips with me, and I came to love him—almost. When + I was away on those trips, my wife would be at home—until the time her aunt + took sick. I recollect her speakin' of her aunt—or did I? No matter. She lived + out West somewhere, and didn't want her to marry me—or so I made out. I didn't + go too deep into it. When she hinted that she hadn't told me of her aunt before for + fear of hurtin' my feelin's, it was enough. Women feel things more than men, and no + use to rake 'em over. I knew I was a rough man, not the kind many women folks might + take to—I never quite got over Her likin' me—nor did a whole lot of + people—and 'twas natural a woman of the kind her aunt must be, didn't like her + marryin' a man like me. But no matter; her aunt <a name="page9" id="page9"></a><span + class="pagenum">[pg 9]</span> was bein' reconciled, she used to write me, and when + your wife is makin' up to her only livin' relative, and she dyin', it's no time to be + exactin'. So she stayed on in the West. I've forgotten where—Chicago + maybe?—too far, anyway, for me to go to her, because I had to stand ready in my + business to leave at a minute's notice. A gale c'd rise in an hour, the coast be + cluttered with wrecks in one day. And there were so many big people, steamboat people + and big shippin' firms, who counted on me, would 'a' been disappointed, you see, if I + wasn't on deck when needed. It's something, after all, to be honest in your work all + your life, not leave it to careless helpers.</p> + <p>He lost his interest in the wreckin' after a while, and natural, too. He hadn't to + build up his family's name or provide a livin' for anybody by it. And her aunt still + lingered, she wrote. And then I wrote that I would give up the business if she said + so, and go out there. I could begin again—there was great shippin' on the + lakes—better sell out a hundred wreckin' plants than be so much apart, for it's + terrible to be comin' from the sea and never find the woman afore ye. But she + telegraphed to wait, she would be home soon, and she wanted to see me, too, about + something partic'lar. That was the night before the Portland breeze—in the year + o' the war with Spain—yes, '98 <a name="page10" id="page10"></a><span + class="pagenum">[pg 10]</span> that would be, the year the <i>Portland</i> went down + on Middle Bank with all on board. A foolish loss that, and nobody ever went to jail + for it; but it's mostly that way, nobody sufferin' for it—but the families o' + the lost ones—when passenger ships go down at sea.</p> + <p>There was half a dozen steamboat firms telegraphin' and telephonin' the morning + after that storm, and I had to leave without waitin' till she got home. There was a + wreck off Cape Cod, and that kept me away a week, and I was hurryin' back by way of + Boston. And I saw him—me hurryin' up Atlantic Avenue to take the train and him + headed for the docks. I hailed him. There was a rumor—'twas in the + papers—that I'd gone down with the wreck I'd been workin' on off Cape + Cod—Chatham way—but of course no one who knew me well believed it. But he + must've believed it, for—"What, you!" he says—not even puttin' in the + "Captain" that he never before forgot. I missed that little word from him—and + he didn't look at me the same—him that had always such a friendly way with me. + He seemed to be in a great hurry, and so I left him without more talk. He did not + even tell me that the <i>Rameses</i> was in the harbor and he leavin' on her, but the + thought of that came later.</p> + <p>I had to stop off at Newport, to get things started <a name="page11" + id="page11"></a><span class="pagenum">[pg 11]</span> for another wreck there, and + that took me the rest of that day and the next, and then I was all ready to take the + night boat for New York, but my oldest boy came hurryin' down the dock to me, and an + old lady—no—not so old, but lookin' old—with him. And they told me + how the <i>Rameses</i>, that had left Boston the morning before, 'd been wrecked off + Gay Head durin' the night and sunk; and this was his mother, and she wanted me to go + to the wreck right away and see if I could find and bring up his body.</p> + <p>I wanted to go home—a week of days and nights—and I was tired, too, + and not easy to tire me in those days, but I thought of him and the trust he had in + the skipper that didn't know his business, and I looks at my boy and at his mother, + and Sarah's face came to me; and who's to gainsay a woman whose son lies drowned? So + my boy and me we put out that night and was there next morning in our big + wreckin'-tug.</p> + <p>'Twas a cold day, but clear, only there was a big sea runnin', makin' it + dangerous, everybody said, to be lyin' alongside her. And, I suppose because o' that, + my boy wanted to do the divin', but 'twas me that went down and fastened the chains + so she wouldn't slip off into the deep water; and then I came up to rest, and it was + while I was up restin' that the chains slipped and she slid off and on to <a + name="page12" id="page12"></a><span class="pagenum">[pg 12]</span> a ledge twenty + fathoms down. Twenty fathoms is deep water for divin'—but one or two 'd been + that deep before, and what one man has done another can do—and I'd promised the + mother to bring her son home to her.</p> + <p>I went down and made fast the chains again, and then I went inside her to make one + job of it, though I'd told the lad I'd come up after I'd made fast the chains. I + needed no pilot—I'd been on her often enough—though I did find use for + the patent electric hand-light I'd carried. Down the big staircase I went, through + the big saloon, and toward his quarters I felt my way—through the fine cabin + and the marble bath-room and his own room—all as rich and comfortable as in his + own home ashore.</p> + <p>It was deep down, as I said—maybe too deep to be stayin' so long—but + I'd never known what it was to give up on a job, and I kept on.</p> + <p>I found him ... and he wasn't alone.</p> + <p>And hard enough it was on me, for never a hint had I of it. 'Twas my boy hauled me + up that day. No signal o' mine, but I was gone so long he feared I'd come to harm + below.</p> + <p>When I found myself better I made ready to go down again, for once you've promised + to do a thing there's nothin' but to do it. But just as they were about to slip my + helmet on, me with my foot on <a name="page13" id="page13"></a><span + class="pagenum">[pg 13]</span> the ladder, the chain that was holding her slipped + again, and into two hundred fathoms she went—too deep for any diver in this + world ever to raise her.</p> + <p>I thought of his mother and I grieved for her, and it was the first job, too, that + ever I'd messed.</p> + <p>"Never mind," says my son. "Twas me, not you. Nobody that knows you, father, will + blame you." A great lad that, and his brother, too—off their mother's + model—both of 'em. Sarah said I'd never have to worry about them, and I + haven't, but I wish she'd lived to have the joy of them.</p> + <p>I don't remember much more of that, but when I got back to the office there was a + letter from her. But I never read it. Nothing it could tell me then that I hadn't + already guessed.</p> + <p>'Isn't often now it comes so to me, things being' generally dim in my mind, as I + say, slipping away and drawing nigh, like ships in a lifting fog-but + to-day—like that day—a winter's day and sunny and cold—with the + seas running like white-maned ponies before the gale in the bay below there—as + it is now—always on a day like this it comes clearer to me.</p> + <hr /> + <a name="page15" id="page15"></a><span class="pagenum">[pg 15]</span> + <h2>LAYING THE HOSE-PIPE GHOST</h2> + <p>Sometimes, for one reason or another, or perhaps without reason at all, it just + happens. So, say a handful of gossiping yeomen find themselves together, and when + that comes about, from some member (if the session stretches to any length at all) is + sure to come a story of particular interest to the guild; and perhaps it ought to be + explained that a yeoman's story is never mistaken in the Navy for a stoker's, a + gunner's, a quartermaster's; never for anybody's but a yeoman's.</p> + <p>One night, a pleasant-enough night topside, but an even pleasanter night below, at + least in our part of the ship below. A few of us were gathered in the flag office, + where Dalton, the flag yeoman, sometimes allowed us to call when his admiral was + ashore. Getting on toward middle-age was Dalton, with a head of gray-flecked hair and + an old-time school-master's face. A great fellow for books.</p> + <p>In the flag office store-room, which to get into he had only to lift a hatch in + the deck under his revolving chair and let himself drop, he had a young library, + which after-hours he, used to delve into for <a name="page18" id="page18"></a><span + class="pagenum">[pg 18]</span> anybody's or everybody's benefit. He was particularly + strong on folk-lore, and could dig up a few fat volumes any time on the folk-lore of + any nation we had ever heard of. He liked to lie flat on the coffer-dam to read, with + a row of tin letter-files under his head for a rest, the electric bulb and its shade + so adjusted as to throw all the light on the page of his book. He had done a lot of + reading and writing in his time, and his eyes were getting a little watery. If he had + had his way he would have been an author. In the hours of many a night-watch he had + tried his hand at little sketches; but somehow or other he could not catch on, he + said. Perhaps if he had tried to write as he talked, tell the things just as they + popped into his mind, he would have been luckier; but that wasn't literature, he + said, and so most of his written things read like one of Daniel Webster's speeches. + We could listen to him talking all night long; but when he brought out one of his + manuscripts, it was good-night and hammocks for all hands.</p> + <p>Taps had gone this night, and so it should have been lights out and everybody + below turned in; but this, as I said, was the admiral's office, and only separated + from the admiral's cabin by a bulkhead; and even the busiest of Jimmy-Legs don't come + prowling into the cabin country of a flagship after taps. And the flag lieutenant and + the <a name="page19" id="page19"></a><span class="pagenum">[pg 19]</span> flag + secretary were pretty savvy officers who never by any accident came bumping in on + Dalton's parties at the wrong time.</p> + <p>There came a knock at the door, and following the knock came the captain's yeoman. + Nothing wrong with the captain's yeoman, except that his bow name was Reginald and he + was rather fat for a sailor. Also he had ambitions, which was all right too, only we + knew that privately he looked on the rest of us as a lot of loafers who would never + rise to our opportunities. He'd been wearing his first-class rating badge a month + now, and before his enlistment was out he intended to be a chief petty officer; which + was why he was working after-hours. But the captain's yeoman, this particular + captain's yeoman, has nothing to do with the story, except that his errand set Dalton + off on a new tack.</p> + <p>The captain's yeoman had come for a little advice. He always was after + advice—or information. A department document had come into the office that day + with seventeen endorsements on it, and it had him bluffed. We all laughed at the face + he drew. "But," said Dalton, turning on us, "so would most of you be bluffed if one + of those winged-out documents came at you for the first time. But you're foolish, son + Reginald, to be worrying over any little thing like that. Seventeen endorsements! <a + name="page20" id="page20"></a><span class="pagenum">[pg 20]</span> What's seventeen + endorsements? I wonder what you'd think if you'd—Sit down there and listen to + me, and perhaps it'll be time well spent. If you don't learn enough from it to get + that C.P.O. you're after, then—Well, I won't call you any names here now. + Listen."</p> + <p>Now this story of Dalton's is a classic among yeoman, and only a yeoman should + tell it; but not even a yeoman, no matter how gifted he may be with letter file or + typewriter, has a rating to tell a story—no, no more than anybody else aboard + ship. Some of us had heard the story before, and it had always been mangled in the + telling, through the teller not knowing all the facts, or having perhaps never met + any of the principal characters in it. But Dalton not only knew the tale from + beginning to end; he was, though he would never admit it in a crowd, himself + concerned in it. And now when he began to relate the history of the famous length of + hose-pipe, we knew that he would have it right.</p> + <p>"I was in—well, call her the cruiser <i>Savannah</i>—this + time—"</p> + <p>"Were you a yeoman, Dallie?"</p> + <p>"Yes, a yeoman, bright Reggie boy; what else d' y' think I'd be—a + signal-girl? A good old ship, the <i>Savannah</i>, and were tied up to the dock at + the Navy Yard."</p> + <a name="page21" id="page21"></a><span class="pagenum">[pg 21]</span> + <p>"Boston yard, was it, Dallie?"</p> + <p>"Never mind what yard it was, son. And I'll name no names, either, and then by no + accident will there be a general court-martial coming to me some day. There were + three of four other ships fitting out at the same time, and after a while these other + three ships got their stores aboard and proceeded to sea, leaving a lot of old gear + behind them on the dock.</p> + <p>"We were making ready to pipe water into our ship, when Mr. Kiley, our boson, + always a forehanded chap, thought it all a pity to have to use our bran-new hose for + that kind of work. You all know how hose gets lying chafing around with people + stepping on it, carts and wagons running over it, coal-dust grinding into it, and so + on. A pity, our boson thought, to subject our nice new hose to that kind of abuse, + when in the condemned heap on the dock there was a length of hose that would do the + work, and he put it up to Mr. Renner, the officer of the deck at the time.</p> + <p>"Now Mr. Renner was a new-made ensign, and we all of us here been long enough in + the service to know how it is about a middy that's just got his commission. We all + know how it is with ourselves when we first get our C.P.O.—except you, Reggie, + and you'll get yours some day. Am I right? Sure I am. If there's one thing on earth + <a name="page22" id="page22"></a><span class="pagenum">[pg 22]</span> we're going to + do then, it's to live up to regulations.</p> + <p>"No, we'll never again remember so much about rules and regulations as we do then. + No catching us in anything irregular; no sir. And so with Mr. Renner, the new-made + ensign. He brings out the blue-book and shows the boson. 'Look,' he says. 'Paragraph + fourteen thousand four hundred and forty-two,' or whatever it was. 'Hose,' he goes on + to read, 'is expendible property, to be surveyed and wiped off the property-books by + condemning to the scrap-heap and sold in the open market to the highest bidder. + There,' says our new-made ensign to our boson, 'what it says. And according to that, + the admiral himself couldn't take that hose from that scrap-heap without authority. + No, not if it was no more than an old shoe-lace, he couldn't.'</p> + <p>"'But that won't fill our water-tanks, and I'd like to use that hose, sir,' says + the boson.</p> + <p>"'M-m!' says Mr. Renner. 'M-m! now if Mr. Shinn was aboard—' Mr. Shinn was + our executive. 'But Mr. Shinn is ashore. However, I'll tell you what; I will speak to + the captain about it,' and he steps inside the bulkhead and writes a message to the + skipper.</p> + <div class="figcenter"> + <a name="image2" id="image2"></a> <a href="images/image2_full.jpg"><img + src="images/image2_thumbnail.png" + alt="He brings out the blue-book and shows the boson" /></a> + <p>He brings out the blue-book and shows the boson</p> + </div> + <p>"Now our skipper was a good old soul, and thought a lot of his boson, and wanted + to do everything <a name="page23" id="page23"></a><span class="pagenum">[pg + 23]</span> he could to help him out, but also, like a good many other good old + captains in the service, he'd forgotten a lot of this stuff about regulations. + Ordinarily—say, if 'twas anything to be done out to sea—he'd have said, + 'Why, of course, Kiley; go ahead and do it,' But this was in a navy yard, ashore, and + when he gets a note with something about regulations in it, he begins to haul to.</p> + <p>"And many a good sea-going old skipper is bluffed the same way about anything that + spells regulations, you betcher. So now our good old skipper begins to tumble his + hair and pull his moustache and look again at Mr. Renner's note. At last he tells the + messenger to say to Mr. Renner that he will look into it and let him know.</p> + <p>"Another hour of studying, and the captain calls in his new yeoman + that—"</p> + <p>"Was that you, Dallie?"</p> + <p>"Never mind—and cut out the personal questions, Reggie son. And remember you + don't rate any more questions than anybody else here. I'm telling you the story, and + I'll tell all that's good for you and just the way it happened.</p> + <p>"Now if this yeoman had been better acquainted with his skipper, he'd have been of + some use just then. He might have suggested, in a way any of us can at times without + interfering, or jarring an officer, even as topsided as a captain, how the thing <a + name="page24" id="page24"></a><span class="pagenum">[pg 24]</span> could be fixed up + without any correspondence game. But this new yeoman hadn't yet learned what his + captain's steaming radius was. And the captain, having regulations on his brain and + not getting the hint at the psychological time, he dictates a regulation + communication to the commandant of the yard, which the new yeoman frames up just as + he was told. It was a letter inquiring of the commandant the status of the condemned + hose in question, and could it not be loaned for temporary use, to be returned in due + season—say, next day? and so forth.</p> + <p>"Now the commandant was a good old soul, too, and nothing would have pleased him + better than to accommodate his old friend and classmate, the captain of the + <i>Savannah</i>; but seeing this thing come to him in such formal style, and himself + being just off a three-years' cruise, and always a little doubtful about these port + regulations, anyway, and wanting to do things up in a seaman-like way, he turns to + his chief clerk and says, 'What do we do about this?'</p> + <p>"Now what the commandant meant and what he would have said, if he'd put it in more + words, was: 'I want the <i>Savannah</i> to have the use of that condemned hose, but I + suppose there are certain formalities to be observed, and your business is to know + what these formalities are. Here, you attend <a name="page25" id="page25"></a><span + class="pagenum">[pg 25]</span> to these formalities, but see that the <i>Savannah</i> + gets the use of the hose.' That's about how he would have put it aboard ship, but he + hadn't quite savvied this shore-going chief clerk at his elbow. Toward him he didn't + have that same sea-going feeling that he'd have toward one of his old ship's + crew.</p> + <p>"And the chief clerk wasn't the kind that lost sleep trying to make trouble for + anybody; but he was the combination of being twenty-five years on one job and having + a manager of a wife—an upstanding, marine-sergeant sort of a woman, with the + beam and bows of a battleship, and an eye—oh, an eye!—and the chief clerk + and his missus, they'd just finished paying for their house over in the city, and + they'd had to scrimp and scrape for the Lord knows how many years to get it paid for, + and there was a marriageable daughter to provide for, and his wife never let him + forget that he mustn't risk their real estate or jeopardize his job or the marrying + prospects of the daughter, who was just getting to where she was making a lot of + desirable acquaintances. There was a young staff officer, a passed assistant surgeon, + within easy range, and there was a young paymaster above the horizon, and no telling + but they might yet capture one of the line, and that was all the old lady needed to + be happy. But if papa was shifted to another <a name="page26" id="page26"></a><span + class="pagenum">[pg 26]</span> city, they'd have to sell the house at a sacrifice and + start making friends, all over again. They say that the chief clerk used to get his + instructions every morning like it was the uniform of the day. Above all things he + must never do anything that the department or any superior officer could ever censure + him for.</p> + <p>"He was a little man, the chief clerk, with an upturned moustache he was always + flattening fan-wise. 'Heels' they used to call him at the yard, because he was so + sensitive about his height that he wore regular female opera-singer's heels on his + shoes. Some said his wife made him wear them. Even then he only came up to the top of + her ear. Well, Heels considers things now, and recollecting that this would come + under the jurisdiction of the captain of the yard, and that the captain of the yard + had his little spells, he says to the commandant, 'I think, sir, we'll have to refer + it.'</p> + <p>"'Refer it? To who?'</p> + <p>"'To the captain of the yard, sir.'</p> + <p>"'Captain of the—D'y' mean the <i>Savannah</i> can't use that bit of rotten + old hose without authority?'</p> + <p>"'Well, sir, you see it is like this. You see, sir, I have to do things the way + they are laid down for me. The <i>Savannah</i> could, perhaps, use that section of + hose, especially if you say so, sir, but—'</p> + <a name="page27" id="page27"></a><span class="pagenum">[pg 27]</span> + <p>"'But what?'</p> + <p>"'But if, sir, the captain of the yard <i>should</i> learn it, as he might, sir, + and he <i>should</i> feel slighted, or if an inspector should happen along when it + was in use, and discover that the items in the scrap-heap did not tally with his + list, that there was a section of hose missing, that it was being used without + authority by the <i>Savannah</i>—'</p> + <p>"'Oh, you and your coulds and your shoulds!' snaps the commandant. 'Give me sea + duty in place of any of these shore billets any time. Aboard ship I have only to nod + my head to my executive officer and a thing's done; but here—O Lord! But go + ahead, make out a request, or requisition, or warrant, or whatever's necessary, and + let's have it fixed up.'</p> + <p>"And Heels, who used to be in the army when he was young, but didn't + like—or, rather, Mrs. Heels didn't like—to be told of it, he snaps his + heels together, starts his arm as if to salute, but stops in time, says, 'Yes, sir,' + goes off to his little desk, and typewrites Endorsement No. 1 to the back of the + captain of the <i>Savannah's</i> letter, gets the commandant's signature, and sends + the messenger with it to the captain of the yard.</p> + <p>"And right here was when it really got under way. You see, if the commandant had + 'phoned over to the captain of the yard and said in an off-hand, <a name="page28" + id="page28"></a><span class="pagenum">[pg 28]</span> fine-day sort of way, 'I suppose + it will be all right to let the <i>Savannah</i> have that hose for a day or two, + won't it?' why, the captain of the yard would have said, 'Why, yes, sir, let 'em have + it.' But he hadn't yet sized up this new commandant. He only knew he had the + reputation of being a martinet aboard ship, and now came this formal letter with its + endorsement and right away the yard captain said to himself, 'He's a strict + one—an endorsement on it already, and that <i>Savannah</i> captain, he must be + a strict one, too. What are they trying to do—trying to catch me below when I + ought to be on deck? I guess not.' He had heard of chaps that you thought you were + safe with and you stretched a point or two to help them out, one of those little + things that anybody would think would get by all right; and then, when something went + wrong, they'd turn around and say, 'Why did you allow this?' and you had no authority + to show why you did allow it. There was that last case at League Island, and a friend + of his, only the year before. There were two damaged rubber raincoats and a pair of + old rubber boots, and the commandant that time had said to his friend: 'See here, I'm + tired of looking at those things. Why don't you auction 'em off some day and get rid + of 'em?' And the captain of the yard's friend got busy and hectographed letters were + mailed to all <a name="page29" id="page29"></a><span class="pagenum">[pg 29]</span> + the junk-dealers in the city, and posted in the post-office and custom-house + corridors, and the sale advertised in the local papers, according to the law. And + after the sixty days required by the law, they were auctioned off with some other + junk. There were thirteen people attended the sale, but only one bid, and that from a + little stooped fellow with the beard of a prophet, who offered sixty-seven cents for + the lot, and took it off in a two-wheeled hand-cart he'd brought with him. And they + turned in the sixty-seven cents, together with the bill for advertising—six + dollars and seventy-five cents—and considered they had done quite a stroke of + business. But back comes a letter from the Bureau of Profit and Loss—or so the + captain of the yard said he thought it was—wanting to know who gave them + authority to advertise and sell the property of the United States without authority; + and before the inquiry was concluded there were three of them rolled through a + G.C.M., and the captain of the yard's friend was broke. And writing him about it, his + friend had closed his letter with: 'Don't ever, on your life, have anything to do + with any condemned property without you know where you're at every minute.'</p> + <p>"And this yard captain didn't intend to, and so he added Endorsement No. 2, saying + he had no authority, and returned it to the commandant, who <a name="page30" + id="page30"></a><span class="pagenum">[pg 30]</span> sent it back, with Endorsement + No. 3, asking to be informed, and so on, and the yard captain tacked on Endorsement + No. 4, respectfully suggesting that in compliance with regulations, page 11,336, + section 142, paragraphs 24-27, or whatever it was, that it be referred to the Bureau + of Replies and Queries at Washington. Which it was, and they returned it to the yard, + this time to the yard master, for further and more specific information. And the yard + master, after locking it in his safe and going home and sleeping on it overnight, + glued on an endorsement that you couldn't have convicted a fish of swimming by, and + hoisted it over to the yard captain bright and early in the morning.</p> + <p>"By this time the yard captain was beginning to believe that some politician was + after his job, and if so—Well, they'd have to snap 'em over pretty fast to + catch him playing too far off his base, and he slid it back to the Bureau of Replies + and so forth, who passed it on to the Bureau of Odds and Ends, where it steamed in + and out among a lot of swivel-chairs, who were not to be upset easily. They put in a + couple of heavy-eyed weeks on it, and rolled it back finally to the commandant for + further information. Above all, before an intelligent judgment could be rendered, + they especially desired to be informed where the hose came from originally.</p> + <a name="page31" id="page31"></a><span class="pagenum">[pg 31]</span> + <p>"Well, the poor commandant didn't know where the hose came from originally. It + might be from any one of three ships that had been lying to in the dock just before + the <i>Savannah's</i> request was received; a battleship, a cruiser, and a beef-boat + they were. But he supposed he had to do something about it, and so he looked up the + latest orders. The beef-boat was due back in the yard in a few days; but she rated + only a lieutenant-commander. The battleship had the rank: a two-starred red flag from + her main. She was about as far away as she could be when last heard from; but no + matter; rank had to be served. The commandant begging leave to be informed passed it + on to her. Did she know anything about the section of hose in question, and if so, + what? And forwarded it, care of postmaster at Manila, P.I. And when it came + back—after thirty or forty thousand miles of travel that was—the + battleship didn't know anything about the section of hose referred to. Nor did the + cruiser, which was in the Mediterranean when caught, only she having lighter heels + and hopping around more, it took eight months to get her. There was still the + beef-boat, which in the meantime had gone to sea and returned home again, and was now + again to sea, on her way to the China station. They went for her, and after a stern + chase that lasted through six months and <a name="page32" id="page32"></a><span + class="pagenum">[pg 32]</span> two typhoons and all kinds of monsoons and trades, + they got her; whereat she begged leave to say that at the time of her collision with + the collier <i>Ariadne</i> (for details of which see letter to Secretary of the Navy + on such a day and month of such a year) many files of papers were lost. And evidently + whatever pertained to the section of hose in question was among the lost files; for + certainly among the existing files there was no reference to any section of condemned + hose-pipe. It took three months more to get that back to the yard, and by that time + the old commandant had been retired for age and a new commandant had fallen heir to + it.</p> + <p>"The new head read all the endorsements, by now forty-eight, and pondered over + them. For perhaps three days he paced the yard with it, without being able to see + where it concerned him; but he was very fond of puzzling things out, and thinking he + saw a way out of this, he forwarded it to the old commander of the <i>Savannah</i>, + who now had a battleship, the <i>Texarkhoma</i>, which was in winter quarters with + the battle fleet at Guantanamo, Cuba, from where he figured on getting an answer in + three weeks at least. But before the mail reached Guantanamo, the <i>Texarkhoma</i> + had been detached by cable and ordered to the West Coast by way of South-American + ports. The commandant at Guantanamo thought he might overtake the <i>Texarkhoma</i> + <a name="page33" id="page33"></a><span class="pagenum">[pg 33]</span> at Rio Janeiro, + and forwarded the packet to the American minister there. But having meantime got + another cable from the department to hurry and make a steaming test of the cruise, + the <i>Texarkhoma</i> had stopped only long enough in Rio to coal ship, and so the + packet missed her there. On to her next stop, Punta Arenas in Magellan Straits, the + minister forwarded it, but the flying battleship, with her stops three thousand miles + apart, was moving along faster than the mail steamers, which were stopping every few + hundred miles. So they missed her in the Straits, and again at Callao. Not till she + lay to anchor in San Francisco Bay did they overtake her, and then her commander had + only to say that he didn't know where the hose came from originally; but he didn't + see that it mattered, as the necessity for the use of the hose no longer existed.</p> + <p>"I might say that the captain's yeoman, having by now come to understand his + skipper, drew up that particular endorsement, and he thought it pretty hot stuff", + and that it would end the whole matter. And so did the new commandant back in the + yard when he got it, and he shipped it on to the Bureau of Heavy Jobs with a + flourish. But did it? Not much. Down there the swivel-chairs revolved a few more + hundred times and they discussed it over a few dozen lunches, and then back <a + name="page34" id="page34"></a><span class="pagenum">[pg 34]</span> it came with a new + touch. Why did the necessity no longer exist? they asked, and shipped it by mistake + to the new commandant.</p> + <p>"'And how the hell do I know?' says the new commandant, but not in writing, and + passes it on to the old <i>Savannah</i> captain, who was now rear-admiral, with a + division in the East waiting him to come and hoist his pennant. And so again it was a + chase of the <i>Texarkhoma</i>, which was on her way to the Philippines <i>via</i> + Honolulu and way ports. They were too late for her at Honolulu, and at Guam, and + again at Yokohama; but they overhauled her at Hong-kong, where she'd been lying at + anchor for a week.</p> + <p>"The admiral had a lot of mail that morning in Hong-kong harbor, but nothing to + speed up his brain till he came to the hose-pipe thing. 'Twas then he went up on the + quarter-deck and did a Marathon for an hour or so, while the officer of the deck and + every blessed marine and flat-foot on duty stepped softly till he ducked below + again.</p> + <p>"By and by, in his cabin, the admiral presses the buzzer, and in comes his trusty + yeoman, the same he'd carried from the days of the <i>Savannah</i>, and to him the + admiral says: 'Willoughby'—call him Willoughby—' Willoughby, how long you + been in the service?'</p> + <p>"'Nineteen years, sir.'</p> + <a name="page35" id="page35"></a><span class="pagenum">[pg 35]</span> + <p>"'Nineteen? H'm! Then by this time you probably know a little something of the + ways that shore-going departments invent to worry us poor fellows to sea,' He held up + the hose-pipe thing. 'You've seen this before, Willoughby?'</p> + <p>"'Oh yes, sir,' says Willoughby."</p> + <p>"'I dare say, and so have I, and if there's a sea-going or shore-going officer in + the service that hasn't bumped into it, then he must have been on the sick-list for + the last few dozen years. Well, Willoughby, do you take it, this nightmare—that + I thought was dead and buried a dozen times—take it and study it over, from + alow and aloft, from for'ard and aft, inside and outside and topside and + 'tween-decks, from mast-head to keelson, from figure-head to jack-staff; study it and + stay with it, and from out of your nineteen years' experience—and you're no + green apprentice-boy, Willoughby—see if you can't construct an endorsement that + will lay the damned ghost of it for good and all.'</p> + <p>"'Aye, aye, sir,' says the trusty yeoman, and takes it off to his office and looks + it over. A wonderful thing it was by now, with its sixty-seven endorsements winged + out on the back of it. Just to read them took the Admiral's yeoman an hour, and he + wasn't too slow a reader, either. Well, he spreads it out and sizes it up. And sucks + three pipefuls, and takes a cruise down the passageway and has a chat with his + old-time shipmates, the <a name="page36" id="page36"></a><span class="pagenum">[pg + 36]</span> boson and the gunner. The boson was Mr. Kiley, the same old boson of the + <i>Savannah</i>, been with the Old Man when he was a middy in sailing-ship + days—couldn't lose each other. A lot of things about the new Navy the boson and + the gunner couldn't savvy, and when they got talking things over together they left + their blue-book etiquette in their lockers. The admiral's yeoman tells 'em what the + Old Man has caught in his mail, and then he asks the boson, 'Did you try to use that + hose at all that day?'</p> + <p>"Try to? No, but I did. D' y' s'pose I was goin' to lose out on a little thing + like that 'cause of regulations? And 'specially after the officer of the deck goes + inside the bulkhead to give me a chance?'</p> + <p>"'He didn't go inside to give you any chance,' says the admiral's yeoman. 'That + was to write a message to the skipper.'</p> + <p>"' Sho-oo boy—bubbles! He was young enough, was Mr. Renner, but not so young + he didn't know enough not to bother the ship's boson when he's gettin' results. And I + snakes the hose off that scrap-heap, and before he's back on the quarter I had it + bustin' with navy-yard water-pressure, and you betcher he sees it over the side, but + he don't look too hard at it. No, sir, he don't,' goes on the boson. 'And now take a + word from me—and it ain't out of any drill-book your division officer 'll <a + name="page37" id="page37"></a><span class="pagenum">[pg 37]</span> read to you. Let + me have that endorsement gadjet and I'll lash it to the fluke of one of our mudhooks + next time we come to anchor, and after it's laid a while on the bottom of Singapore + harbor, or wherever it is we next let go, under twenty, thirty, or forty fathom of + water, whatever it is, I'll let you see what it looks like.'</p> + <p>"'No, no, Kiley, don't you do it,' says the gunner. 'Don't you do it. Some crazy + Parsee diver might spot it and go down and bring it up; and besides, you oughtn't let + it get wet—it'd spoil all that nice typewriting. Give it up to me and I'll take + it up on the after-bridge, and if it's too stiff for wadding, I'll tie it across the + muzzle of the first six-pounder we salute the port with, and let you see how it looks + then.'</p> + <p>"'What you two pirates need,' says the admiral's yeoman, 'is to learn a little + respect for the shore-going departments where your orders are made out,' and goes + back to his office and takes that hose-pipe communication and reads through the + sixty-seven endorsements again, and then he carefully typewrites on a new leaf:</p> + <blockquote> + <p><i>"'Endorsement No</i>. 68<br /> + U.S.S. <i>Texarkhoma</i>,<br /> + Hong-kong, China,<br /> + Date So and so.</p> + <a name="page38" id="page38"></a><span class="pagenum">[pg 38]</span> + <p>"'Respectfully returned, with the information that the need of the section of + hose-pipe no longer exists, for the reason that we filled the <i>Savannah's</i> + tanks with it seven years ago.</p> + <p>"'Very respectfully,</p> + <p>"'Your obedient servant,'</p> + </blockquote> + <p>and signs his own name and rating, Percy Algernon Willoughby—call him + that—Chief Yeoman, U.S. Navy, and glues that on behind the other sixty-seven + endorsements and gloats over it, and for a few minutes feels like a bureau chief + himself. Then for another minute or two he thought of mailing it to them. And he + could see them reading that in Washington! There would be an endorsement to go + ringing down the departmental ancestral halls! And as for the other yeomen, his + colleagues in the service, for generations his name would resound among 'em. But he + decided that that would be too much glory for one yeoman, and besides, he didn't know + where he could start in at $70 a month (with additions) and all found, at his age, + after being nineteen years on one job. And right here, he had to admit to himself, he + didn't have so very much the best of Heels of the navy-yard. So he looks it over + again; fat as a history of the Roman Empire, and hefted it and—well, there were + young apprentice-boys aboard that didn't weigh any more. <a name="page39" + id="page39"></a><span class="pagenum">[pg 39]</span> But to make sure, he lashes it + to the butt-end of a fourteen-pound shell the gunner had once given him for a + desk-weight. He hated to lose that desk-weight, a relic of the Santiago fight, but a + good cause this—a good cause. He starts to unscrew his air-port, but come to + think, it was still daylight, and so he waits for the shades of night to fall.</p> + <p>"Well, that night—three bells just gone in the mid-watch it was—the + marine guarding the patent life-buoy on the port side of the quarter-deck, fell into + a reverie. He ought to have been on the <i>qui vive</i>, so to speak—alert, + active, wide-awake, pacing his post briskly of course, according to instructions; and + if it was daylight when the officer of the deck could see him, you betcher he would. + But it was the middle of the night, and a night in the Orient, with a sky of studded + velvet and a sea that flowed by like a smooth roll of dark belting, and he was + only—Tolliver was his name, from Georgia—only a slim young Southern boy + dreaming of home and mother, and maybe of a girl he had left behind him, and he + looked up at the emblazoned firmament and again at the flashing sea, and then he + rested his head on the top chain-rail.</p> + <p>"For just a second. He had said to himself he wouldn't go to sleep; but all at + once he heard a move below him, as of somebody unscrewing an air-port, and then he + heard a voice say, 'Well, here <a name="page40" id="page40"></a><span + class="pagenum">[pg 40]</span> goes a ghost that will stay laid!' and then a plash, a + pl-m-p! and looking over quickly, he saw plain as could be the phosphorus hole in the + sea, then a quarter of a second later something white as a man's face, and then it + was gone into the ship's wake.</p> + <p>"'Man overboard!' he yells, and snaps the patent life-buoy over the side, and the + marine on the starboard side of the quarter he yells, 'Man overboard!' and the marine + on the after-bridge he yells, 'Man overboard!' and the two seaman on watch on the + for'ard bridge, 'Man overboard, sir!' they yell, and the watch officer orders, 'Hard + on your wheel, Quartermaster!' and to the bosun's mate on watch the watch officer + yells, 'Pipe the deck division to quarters!' and the watch officer pulls a few bells + and talks through three or four tubes, and in no time the ship is coming around in a + circle, and up on deck came piling about two hundred lusty young seamen, and it was, + 'boats away,' and over the side went hanging gigs and cutters and whale-boats, and + then it was, 'Search-lights all clear!' and in about one minute the big ship was back + on the spot, and in another minute and a half there were eight boats with + half-dressed crews rowing around, and six big search-lights playing tag on the + waters. An hour and a half they stood by, but no sign of him and no call from <a + name="page41" id="page41"></a><span class="pagenum">[pg 41]</span> him. And then it + was return to your ship, sound quarters and call the roll. But everybody was present + or accounted for, and the skipper gave the captain of marines the devil, and the + marine captain gave the devil to his marine guard, the Georgia boy, who by this time + was beginning to doubt that he hadn't been asleep.</p> + <p>"Next afternoon the admiral was on deck taking the air, and after a while he asks, + 'Where was that marine guard standing when he says he heard that air-port unscrewing + and that splash last night?' And they dug the marine out of the brig and brought him + up, and he stood on the same spot leaning over the rail, and the old man stands there + and takes a look down. And he looks to see if there was an air-port handy. And there + was—the air-port of the flag office. 'H'm!—h'm!' he says. 'That's all + now, Lyman,' to the marine officer. Nothing more; but an hour later the marine was + released from the brig—nobody knew why."</p> + <p>Throughout all the story Dalton had been sitting atop of the coffer-dam, hands + with flat palms pressing down, and feet hanging, with heels drumming against the + coffer-dam sides. After he had done he pushed himself up by the palms of his hands, + rearranged his row of tin letter-files, shifted his electric bulkhead light, picked + up a fat folk-lore <a name="page42" id="page42"></a><span class="pagenum">[pg + 42]</span> volume and waited, with eyes twinkling down on us, for somebody to say + something.</p> + <p>"And how long ago was that, Dallie?" asked somebody, at last.</p> + <p>"Five years."</p> + <p>"And never a word from the admiral?"</p> + <p>"Never a word."</p> + <p>"H-m-ph! Don't you suppose—"</p> + <p>"Suppose what, fat Reggie? D' y' mean to hint at conspiracy between a rear-admiral + of the United States Navy and an enlisted man—a yeoman? Why, Reggie!"</p> + <p>"Of course not. But nothing more from anybody? Not from Washington, either?"</p> + <p>"Nothing, inquisitive child. But there's an old flat-footed friend of mine in the + department—and he, whenever he writes me, never forgets to mention that every + once in a while the chief clerk, or somebody or other in his division, is sure to + look out the window and across the street at the White House grounds, as if trying to + remember something; and whenever he takes a particularly long look he is always sure + to turn around and say to the man at the nearest desk, 'What d' y' s'pose ever became + of that hose-pipe spook used to haunt this place?' And the man at the nearest desk + he'll look up and nibble at the end of his pen-holder, or maybe he'll get up and have + a look out of the window at the <a name="page43" id="page43"></a><span + class="pagenum">[pg 43]</span> Cabinet playing tennis, and after a while he'll say: + 'That's so; I wonder what ever did become of that? But'—maybe another look + across at the tennis court—'that'll turn up again, no fear.'</p> + <p>"But it won't," concluded the flag yeoman, with a smile we could have buried one + of his tin letter-files in; "for we were two hundred miles out of Hong-kong at that + time, steaming 14.6 miles an hour through the China Sea, and you know it's good and + deep there. And now"—he rolled flat on his back, balanced his neck on the + head-rest under the bulkhead light, and his fat book on his chest—"now I'm not + advising anybody, and particularly not you, Fatty, but that's the way a competent + yeoman, with a little advice from a couple of old shipmates, laid that hose-pipe + ghost of other days. But mind, I'm not telling you to go and do anything like + that."</p> + <p>"No, of course not," says our captain's yeoman, and rubs his fat chin. "Of course + not."</p> + <p>"But if you do," says Dalton, and sets his head sideways to see how Reginald was + taking it—"if you do, you'd make a hit with your skipper, you + betcher—only he'd never tell you."</p> + <p>"Why wouldn't he, if he liked it?"</p> + <p>"Why? 'Twouldn't be regulations. And now, you fellows, beat it. Seven bells gone + and the Old Man is due aboard at twelve o'clock. And sometimes <a name="page44" + id="page44"></a><span class="pagenum">[pg 44]</span> he takes a notion to go cruising + around the cabin country before he turns in. Besides, I want a chance to peruse a + little improving literature before I turn in myself. So beat it, all of you."</p> + <p>And out into the passageways and up the hatchways we beat it; all but our + captain's fat yeoman, who went back to his office at a grave thoughtful pace.</p> + <hr /> + <a name="page45" id="page45"></a><span class="pagenum">[pg 45]</span> + <h2>The Seizure of the "Aurora Borealis"</h2> + <p>I had no notion in the beginning of going anywhere near Newfoundland that winter, + but the word was passed to me from old John Rose of Folly Cove that if I thought of + running down for a load of herrin', then he'd ought to have a couple o' thousand + barrels, by the looks o' things, fine and fat in pickle, against Christmas Day, and + old John Rose being a great friend of mine, and the market away up, I kissed the wife + and baby good-by and put out for Placentia Bay in the <i>Aurora</i>.</p> + <p>Now if anybody'd come to me before I left Gloucester that trip and asked me to + turn a smuggling trick, why, I'd 'a' said: "Go away, boy, you're crazy." But on the + way down I put into Saint Pierre. You know Saint Pierre? In the Miquelons, yes, where + in the spring the fishing vessels from France put in—big vessels, bark-rigged + mostly, and carrying forty or fifty in a crew—they put in to fit out for the + Grand Banks fishing. And they come over with wine mostly for ballast. And in the fall + they sail back home, but without the wine.</p> + <a name="page48" id="page48"></a><span class="pagenum">[pg 48]</span> + <p>And, of course, somethin's got to be done with that wine, and though wine's as + cheap in Saint Pierre as 'tis to any port in France, yet 'tisn't all drunk in Saint + Pierre—not quite. The truth is, those people in Saint Pierre aren't much in the + drinking line. One American shacking crew will come in there and put away more in one + night than that whole winter population will in a week—that is, they would if + they could get the kind they wanted. But that Saint Pierre wine isn't the kind of + booze that our fellows are looking for after hauling trawls for a month o' winter + days on the Banks. No, what they want is something with more bite in it. And what + becomes of it? H-m—if you knew that you'd know what a lot of people'd like to + know.</p> + <p>Well, I put into Saint Pierre, for I knew old John Rose and his gang of herring + netters would cert'nly relish a drink of red rum now and again on a cold winter's + night, and, going ashore, I runs into a sort of fat, black lad about forty-five, half + French, half English, that was a great trader there, named Miller. 'Twas off him I + bought my keg of rum for old John Rose. I'd heard of this Miller before, and a slick, + smooth one he was reported to be, with a warehouse on one of the docks.</p> + <p>He'd been looking at my vessel, he said, had noticed her come to anchor, and a + splendid vessel <a name="page49" id="page49"></a><span class="pagenum">[pg 49]</span> + she was—fast and weatherly, no doubt of that. Well, that was all right, for, + take it from me, the <i>Aurora</i> was all that anybody could say of her that was + good. And when you believe that way, and a man comes along and begins to praise your + vessel like that, whether you like his sail plans or not, why you just naturally + can't help warming up to him. We took a walk up the street together.</p> + <p>And a master and a crew that knew how to handle her, too, Miller goes on. Now I + blinked a little at that, straight to my face as it was, but after two or three more + drinks I says to myself: "Oh, hell, what's the good o' suspectin' everybody that pays + a compliment of trying to heave twine over you?" We got pretty friendly, and, talking + about one thing and another, he finally asked me if I ever had a notion of selling my + vessel. I only smiled at him, and asked him if he had any idea what she cost to + build. I told him then. Fourteen thousand dollars to the day of her trial trip, and + all the money my wife and I had in the world had gone into her. He had no idea she + cost so much; but, on reflection, it must be so—of a certainty yes. A + splen-did, a su-pairb vessel, so swift to sail, so perfect to manoeuvre. If he + himself possessed such an enchanting vessel—well, he could use her to much + profit. There was a way.</p> + <p>He said that so slyly that I had to ask him what <a name="page50" + id="page50"></a><span class="pagenum">[pg 50]</span> that way was. He winked. "I deal + in wines—what way can it be?" And, of course, I winked back to show that I was + a deep one too. It's wonderful what things a man c'n get up to wind'ard of you after + he's half filled you up. Well, no more then, but we left our caffay for a walk around + the port, me looking for a little souvenir in the jewelry line for the baby. + Christmas was comin', and though I didn't expect to be home till after New Year's, + still I wanted the wife to know I hadn't forgotten the baby.</p> + <p>I was tellin' that to Miller, and a little more about them, of how I hadn't been + but a couple of years married, and how I kissed her and the baby good-by on the + steps, and her tellin' me the last thing not to go pilin' the vessel up on the rocks + anywhere, that the baby's fortune was in her now, and so on.</p> + <p>Well, sir, that farewell scene, that adieu, was too touching for him—he + insisted on picking out the souvenir himself, and he picked out a good one, a pretty + brooch to fasten the baby's little collar, and he paid for it—forty + francs—and I just had to take it.</p> + <p>Well, we had another drink and parted, me not expecting to see any more of him; + but that night as I was down on the dock hailing the vessel for a dory to go aboard, + a man stepped up to me and <a name="page51" id="page51"></a><span class="pagenum">[pg + 51]</span> laid his hand on my arm. "Captain Corning?" he said, and I said yes.</p> + <p>Well, he was a friend of Mr. Miller—he had seen me talking to Mr. Miller, + and learned that I was about to depart in the early morning, bound for Placentia Bay; + he would like to ask me to do him a small favor. Could I take one package and land it + on my way to Auvergne, where was one friend of his? A small matter, one five-gallon + keg of rum, that rum which was of such trivial price in Saint Pierre, but on which + the duty was so high in Newfoundland, and his friend was one poor man, one fisherman, + who could not afford to pay the duty.</p> + <p>Now this Auvergne was twenty-five miles this side of any port of entry, and my + first landing in Newfoundland, according to law, had to be at a port of entry. And so + I told this chap that, and how I was liable to a heavy fine, and so on.</p> + <p>Yes, he discerned much truth in what I said, but consider that poor fisherman who + could have his good rum merely for the landing—no other cost, none + whatever—he, a friend of Mr. Miller, was sending it as a gift for the holiday + Christmas time. And that rum—consider the piteously cold nights hauling the + nets when a drink of good rum was so soothing, so grateful, so inspiring. And a + little favor like that—the Colonial Government would <a name="page52" + id="page52"></a><span class="pagenum">[pg 52]</span> not be—truly not—and + if I did not take the rum that poor fisherman of Auvergne would have none in its + stead. He could not afford it, the duty was so high—an impossible duty, as no + doubt I knew.</p> + <p>I did know, and also I remembered many a drink of Saint Pierre rum I'd had on a + cold night in Newfoundland and no duty paid on it, and many a cold night hauling + herring when I didn't have it, but wished I had, and would've gone a long ways to get + it, duty or no duty. And then I remembered how Miller had been pretty decent to me + that day—the little brooch he'd bought for the baby I could even then feel in + my vest pocket—and I said all right, and when half an hour later a dory slipped + up to the side of the <i>Aurora</i> and a keg was handed over the rail I didn't ask + any questions, but took and stowed it under the cabin run.</p> + <p>Next morning we sailed, and, after a four hours' easy run, made Auvergne, a little + port in Placentia Bay, tucked away between two headlands—one easterly, one + westerly. Coming from Saint Pierre, it was, of course, the westward one we rounded. + According to directions, I ground out two long and two short woofs on the fog-horn, + at which a man pops from behind a big rock and waves a handkerchief three times.</p> + <p>Well, that was according to directions, too, and I drops a dory over the side with + Sam Leary and <a name="page53" id="page53"></a><span class="pagenum">[pg 53]</span> + Archie Gillis and the keg in it, and tells them to row over to the beach, ask the + name of the lad that jumped from behind the rock, and if it was the same as on the + tag to leave the keg with him. It was about a mile to the bit of beach, and the dory + was almost there, when from behind the easterly headland comes the revenue-cutter. + "That looks bad," I says, "but we'll say we've come for fresh water, that our tanks + were leakin', and that we had to have fresh water to cook dinner, and Sam and Archie + in the dory—'specially Sam—they'll have wit enough to empty the keg over + the side and go on up as if they was really lookin' for water."</p> + <p>And that's what would 'a' happened if it'd not been for the thirst that Sam Leary + and Archie Gillis most always had with them. They see the revenue-cutter, and they + knew just what they oughter done, but they couldn't let go that keg without having + one last drink out of it, and when they got that drink down they couldn't help + thinking what a pity to waste so much good rum, and taking a look back at the cutter, + and seeing she was still half a mile away—"Time enough," says Sam to + Archie—"this lad behind the big rock'll have something to stow it in," and he + and Archie walks without any hurry up to the rock where the man was hiding.</p> + <p>But instead of one man behind that rock, there <a name="page54" + id="page54"></a><span class="pagenum">[pg 54]</span> was six, and right away there + was a battle. Sam and Archie bowls over a couple and gets away up the beach and safe + among rocks, but the revenue people got the keg. By that time the cutter was + alongside us, and so they wouldn't get the little Christmas keg I had tucked away for + John Rose I pulled the plug out of it in no time and let it drain into her bilge. And + that was an awful waste of good liquor, and I knew John Rose would grieve when I told + him.</p> + <p>They had a clean case against me, and I was taken with the <i>Aurora</i> to Harbor + Grace for trial. When they asked me what I had to say, I told 'em that I was simply + bringing a little keg of rum from a man in Saint Pierre to his friend in Auvergne. + They asked me the name of the man in Saint Pierre, and I said I didn't know. They + asked me the name of the man in Auvergne, and I said I didn't know. "Was this the + man?" they asks, and shows me the tag on the keg. I didn't answer. And they went on + to show there was no man in Auvergne by that name, and what were they to understand + by that?</p> + <p>I told them I didn't know—it was past me. And it cert'nly was. But they knew + what to make of it, they said. There were people in Auvergne doing this illegal + business under false names. And I had used a false name, and to try to tell the + honorable <a name="page55" id="page55"></a><span class="pagenum">[pg 55]</span> court + that I did not know the name of the man in Saint Pierre who gave me the rum, nor the + man I was bringing it to—why, I knew very well who gave me the rum, and I knew + who I was bringing it to, and if the truth were known, I knew a lot more about the + rum-smuggling traffic. And they were going to put a stop to it.</p> + <p>And they laid a fine of twenty-five hundred dollars against my vessel. Maybe you + might think that a pretty heavy fine, but that's nothing. Almost any little local + magistrate down that way can soak an American skipper or owner for almost any amount + and get away with it. And how's that? Well, we pay two or three dollars a barrel to + Newfoundland fishermen for herring. Before we went down here the St. John's merchants + used to pay them about fifty cents a barrel, and it's the St. John's merchants who + have all the money and came pretty near running Newfoundland.</p> + <p>Well, when my little local magistrate fines me twenty-five hundred dollars I said + I wouldn't pay it, that I'd stir things up at Washington, and so on, but they only + laughed at me, and put her up for sale.</p> + <p>Now I'd 've bid her in myself if I'd had the money, but I only had a couple of + hundred dollars in cash for running expenses with me. All my Newfoundland friends + down that way were poor <a name="page56" id="page56"></a><span class="pagenum">[pg + 56]</span> people—fishermen. If 'twas home we could 'a' raised plenty of money + on her, but I was in Newfoundland, not Gloucester, and they rushed the thing + through.</p> + <p>Well, the <i>Aurora</i> was bid in for just the amount of the fine, and that was a + shame, the vessel she was, and she was bid in by a man nobody seemed to know. I went + to the man who bid her in and told him the whole story, of what the vessel meant to + me, of how I came to bring the rum over, and asked him would he give me the chance to + communicate with some business men in Gloucester and buy her back, but he only laughs + at me, and laughs in a way to make me think I was a child.</p> + <p>And in one way I was sort of a child, then, but I didn't begin to realize how much + of a child till I heard a voice giving orders to make sail on the <i>Aurora</i>. A + coast steamer had just come in, and from her had come a crew of men to take the + <i>Aurora</i> away, and this was the voice of the man who gave me the keg of rum that + night in Saint Pierre. And while I was looking at him another man came alongside from + the coast steamer, and this was Miller himself. If the <i>Aurora</i> had been within + distance I would have jumped aboard; but she had her lower sails up then and was + moving in pretty lively fashion out of the harbor.</p> + <p>I sat on a rock on the beach to think it over, <a name="page57" + id="page57"></a><span class="pagenum">[pg 57]</span> and, "Alec Corning," I said to + myself at last—"they cert'nly tried you with the right kind o' bait—and + hooked you good."</p> + <p>And I wondered how I could get square with Miller. No use trying to stir up + Washington. There was an old skipper of mine, and they'd fined him three thousand + dollars once for just a difference of opinion and he couldn't pay it, and his vessel + at that moment was being used for a light-ship, and all he'd been getting out of + Washington were State Department letters for ten years. And he had cert'nly as much + political pull as I had, for I had none.</p> + <p>No, no State Department for mine, I says at last, and ships my crew up to John + Rose to Folly Cove, telling them to help John with the herring, and to tell him, too, + to save the herring for me, that I'd get 'em back to Gloucester some way, and myself + takes passage next day on the mail packet to Saint Pierre.</p> + <p>It was after dark of Christmas Eve when I landed at Saint Pierre. I went up to + Argand's Caffay, a place where all kinds of seafaring people used to go to get a + drink and a bite to eat. There were quite a few in there now—French stokers + from a steamer or two and half a dozen French man-of-war's men from a French gun-boat + that was lying in the harbor, I remember.</p> + <a name="page58" id="page58"></a><span class="pagenum">[pg 58]</span> + <p>I didn't see any American fishermen in Argand's, but I knew that some of 'em would + be drifting in before long. And by and by a few did, but me saying nothing to any of + them, only sitting over to a table in a corner with a little bit of supper, and + thinking that it was going to be a blue kind of Christmas for me, and a blue + Christmas at home, too, for by this time Gloucester must've got the news of the + seizure of the <i>Aurora</i>, and somebody'd surely passed the word to the wife.</p> + <p>I was sitting there, in the corner, figuring things out and not bothering much + about the people coming and going, when somebody sits down at my table, and no sooner + down than I felt his boot pressing mine under the table. I looked up, and it was + Archie Gillis.</p> + <p>"A fine one <i>you</i>!" I breaks out—"where's Sam?"</p> + <p>"Gi'me a chance now, skipper," says Gillis, and orders a little something, and + when the waiter was gone: "Sam's not far away. I left him up to Antone's rolling dice + for turkeys. We came over, him and me, on a little French packet. Sam guessed you'd + come back to Saint Pierre, and if you did he knew you'd drop in here. Sam'll be here + soon, he guessed you'd come here. We've been tryin' to find out about the + <i>Aurora</i>. She's in the harbor, and they're going to put out to-night."</p> + <a name="page59" id="page59"></a><span class="pagenum">[pg 59]</span> + <p>"For where?"</p> + <p>"Well, it's a fishin' trip she's cleared for, but she's got more than offshore + bait in her hold."</p> + <p>Archie had been talking straight down at his plate. Now he stood up, and from + behind his napkin said: "There's the skipper o' the <i>Aurora</i>—tryin' to + collect his gang together. Don't look around. But he'll have hard work, 'cause Sam + and me spent most of th' afternoon gettin' 'em drunk—specially Sam. An' Sam + says don't notice him when you see him come in, for the new <i>Aurora</i> gang don't + know yet that we was any of your crew." Gillis tossed his napkin down and strolled + over to the bar.</p> + <p>By and by I heard a familiar voice at the door—could 'a' heard it a + block—and pretty soon Sam himself comes rolling in. He was carrying a monstrous + turkey, and he spied Archie first thing. And, "Hullo, Archie boy," he shouts. "Throw + your binnacle lights on that, will you? Thirty pounds he weighs—like you see + him—and twenty-five he'll weigh, or I'm no fancy poultry raiser, when he's + ready for the oven."</p> + <p>Gillis poked his finger into the breast of the turkey. "I wish we had him for + to-morrow, Sammie. He'd make a nice little lunch, that lad."</p> + <p>"Well, we'll have him, Archie, for to-morrow. We'll have him—the biggest + turkey ever sailed out of ol' Sain' Peer. A whale, look at him."</p> + <a name="page60" id="page60"></a><span class="pagenum">[pg 60]</span> + <p>"Aye, some tonnage to him. But y' never won him here, Sammie?"</p> + <p>"Win <i>him</i> here? <i>Here</i>? In Argand's? Ever know anybody win anything + here? No, sir. I won him up to ol' Antone's. Twenty-seven throws at twenty-five cents + a throw."</p> + <p>"Twenty-seven! You could 'a' bought two of 'em for that."</p> + <p>"Bought? Of course I could 'a' bought; but who wants to buy a turkey Christmas + time? Why, any fat old shuffle-footed loafer can take a basket under his arm and go + down t' the market and pay down his money and come away with a turkey or anything + else he wants. 'Tain't the <i>getting</i> him. Archie—it's the winnin' him from + a lot of hot sports that think they c'n roll dice. Twenty-seven throws I took and + with every throw a free drink of good old cassy—"</p> + <p>"Twenty-seven drinks o' cassy! A lot you knew about what you was rollin' by then, + Sammie."</p> + <p>"'Tain't what I knew, but what I <i>did</i>, that counted, Archie, and it takes + more than twenty-seven glasses o' cassy to put my rail under. <i>You</i> oughter know + that, Archie. I knew what I was doin'—don't worry. An' that twenty-seventh + rollin'! I shook 'em up—spittin' to wind'ard for luck—and lets 'em run. + And out they comes a-bowlin'. Seventeen! Cert'nly a fine run-off that, I says, and + drops 'em in again, limbers my <a name="page61" id="page61"></a><span + class="pagenum">[pg 61]</span> wrist a couple o' times, and then—two fives and + a six—thirty-three! I gathers 'em in again, takes off my cardigan jacket, lays + my cigar on the rail, jibes my elbows to each side—'Action,' I says. 'Action.' + Yer could hear 'em breathin' a cable length all around me. I curls my fingers over + the box, snaps her across an' back again. The len'th of the table they rolled. Three + sixes—fifty-one. 'Mong doo,' yells ol' Antone—'Sankantoon—not since + fifteen year do I see such play.' Well, for another hour they rolled, but that + fifty-one was still high-line. I took him away. And alongside this lad when we have + him to-morrow, Archie, there'll be a special bottle o' wine—some red-colored + wine. I don't know the name of it. Good stuff, though, and ol' Antone gave it to + me—a special bottle."</p> + <p>"An' well he might arter all the money you spent there, Sammie."</p> + <p>"An' why not there as well as the next place? Why not there as well as here? Why + not?" Sam glared down to the end of the bar, where Argand himself was taking in the + cash, and his eyes, roaming round the room, caught mine and he winked. "A gen'l'man, + ol' Antone, which every caffy keeper ain't—an' because he's a gen'l'man, and + because some others ain't—" Sam looked around to see if Argand was getting + that—"because some others <a name="page62" id="page62"></a><span + class="pagenum">[pg 62]</span> ain't—because some others ain't, I say—an' + I could name 'em, too, if I wanted—I could, yes."</p> + <p>I caught another flash from Sam's eyes, and, looking where his eyes pointed, I saw + my <i>Aurora</i> captain and three or four of his crew, who had just come in.</p> + <p>"Name him, Sammie—name him," urged Gillis. "Name the cross-breeded + dog-fish—name 'im, Sammie, name 'im."</p> + <p>All this was foolish enough, perhaps, but not to Henri Argand, who ran this place. + He didn't have reputation enough to be able to stand off and laugh at Sammie and + Archie—probably not—for by and by, with four or five helpers, he comes + with a rush and in ten seconds it was a mix-up. Sam and Gillis put their backs to the + bar and gave battle. There were only the two of them, and the turkey, at first. A + great bird a turkey—especially when you swing him by the ankles. Down went a + waiter, and down went another waiter. Sam made a couple of tremendous swipes, and + then down went the <i>Aurora's</i> captain and one of his crew. The <i>Aurora's</i> + captain's head, I thought, would be knocked clean off, the way the turkey hit him. + Then over went a row of French stokers, and, with a back-handed sweep of the turkey, + down went the bartender behind. And Sam and Archie, I <a name="page63" + id="page63"></a><span class="pagenum">[pg 63]</span> could see, were working over to + finish the <i>Aurora's</i> new crew, and would've got 'em, too, but Argand, inside + the bar, picks up a bung-starter, sneaks down and gives Sam and Archie a couple of + slick taps over the ear, and down they went—just slid feet first away from the + bar and on to the floor, flat—and as they slid Argand reaches over and grabs + the turkey out of Sam's hand.</p> + <div class="figcenter"> + <a name="image3" id="image3"></a> <a href="images/image3_full.jpg"><img + src="images/image3_thumbnail.png" + alt="Sam made a couple of tremendous swipes, and then down went the <i>Aurora's</i> captain and one of his crew" /> + </a> + <p>Sam made a couple of tremendous swipes, and then down went the <i>Aurora's</i> + captain and one of his crew</p> + </div> + <p>That sort of put it up to our national pride—there was six or seven American + fishermen in the place—and we waded in, and the French man-of-war's men, they + waded in, and it was one fine battle for maybe ten minutes, with nothing in the way + of empty bottles, or full ones either, being overlooked. And when we couldn't reach + any more chairs or table legs we pulled off our sea boots, and, believe me, a big red + jack with a three-quarter-inch sole and an inch and a half of heel—you grab a + sea boot o' that size—it don't weigh more than four pounds or so—you grab + it by the ears and get a full healthy swing on it and let it hit a man anywhere above + the water-line, and he won't mistake it for any sofa cushion.</p> + <p>It was a fine fight, and I think we'd 'a' won out only for the re-enforcements + from outside. A liberty party of French man-of-war's men come first, and then the + police lads with the red trousers and the swords, and out we went into the + street.</p> + <a name="page64" id="page64"></a><span class="pagenum">[pg 64]</span> + <p>And when they got us out they locked the doors and barred the windows.</p> + <p>While I was pulling on my red jacks again, out under the lamp, on the corner of + the street, up comes Sam and Archie. "Say, Alec," begins Sam, "but you cert'nly laid + 'em out with your sea boot."</p> + <p>I thought Sam and Archie would be pretty well smashed up, but there wasn't a mark + on 'em except a couple of lumps behind their ears.</p> + <p>"Not us," explained Sam. "Nothin' happened to us except bein' stepped on a few + dozen times. But did y' land the rest o' the <i>Aurora's</i> crew, Alec?"</p> + <p>"I don't know. I swung for 'em, Sam."</p> + <p>"You got 'em all right, and that'll put it out o' their heads to bother with the + <i>Aurora</i> to-night, though"—he cocked up an ear to the whistle of a rising + breeze—"it begins to feel like they wouldn't 'a' gone out anyway—it's + breezing up so."</p> + <p>"Where's she layin'?"</p> + <p>"Off the end o' the big dock. An' if it keeps on breezin' they won't be goin' out + in the mornin' either. A bad time anyway to put out on a cruise—Christmas Day. + But what d'y' say, Alec, if we take a look around the place?"</p> + <p>We'd got a pretty good start for Christmas Eve, and around Saint Pierre we went, + Sam and Archie <a name="page65" id="page65"></a><span class="pagenum">[pg 65]</span> + and four men of the <i>Lucy Foster's</i> crew who'd been in the mix-up. They were + ready to tear things up, but there wasn't much to tear up, because everybody heard us + coming, and whenever we'd get to a place, we'd find the doors locked and the windows + barred. The only place not locked that night was the little cathedral, and by and by, + when we found there was no place else to go, we all went in there.</p> + <p>It was a midnight mass being celebrated, and it was the sound of the choir voices + coming from there that got us, and, Catholics or no, no matter, we all went in and + heard mass, too, and when we came out, not feeling like trouble any more, we all went + down to old Antone's and turned in.</p> + <p>Christmas morning everybody was feeling better, all but Sam Leary and me. I was + thinking of my vessel, and Sam of his big turkey. He wanted to get that turkey. He + wasn't going to leave Saint Pierre till he got it back. No, sir, he wasn't. And he + had a pretty good notion just where it was then. Up to Argand's, cooking for Henri's + Christmas dinner. Or maybe him gettin' fifty cents a plate for it for customers' + dinners. And he'd cut up for about forty platefuls. And for forty plates at fifty + cents or two francs a plate. "Mong doo an' sankantoon," yells Sam all at once. "Come + on, Archie—come on, fellows"—and up the <a name="page66" + id="page66"></a><span class="pagenum">[pg 66]</span> street went Sam and Archie and + the four of the <i>Lucy Foster's</i> crew to see about the turkey.</p> + <p>But that wasn't getting me my vessel, and I went down to the water-front to look + for her. There she was, my lovely <i>Aurora</i>, to anchor in the stream, and there + was me on the end of the dock looking at her, and that's all I could do—look at + her. She was lying to two anchors and with her mains'l standing. A little further off + shore and even her two anchors couldn't 've kept her from dragging and piling up on + the rocks with that mains'l up, for a rocky harbor is Saint Pierre, and now it was + blowing a living gale of wind.</p> + <p>While I was standing there on the big dock, along comes the trader Miller with + another chap. He must 've seen me, but he pretended not, and I didn't make any sign I + saw him. He pointed out the <i>Aurora</i> to the man, saying a few things in French. + And then he raised his voice.</p> + <p>"When it moderates she will depart—and with a car-go," he said—the + last in English, and by that I knew he meant it for me. "Go on," I grit out, "go on, + have your fun."</p> + <p>"Yes, I pur-chased her ver-ry cheap," goes on Miller, and then a great racket, and + down the dock on the run comes Sam with his big turkey, which was all cooked, I could + see, fine and brown—and Archie behind Sam and the four <i>Lucy Foster</i> men + <a name="page67" id="page67"></a><span class="pagenum">[pg 67]</span> behind Archie + and behind them again a bunch of Argand's waiters and the gendarmes with the red + trousers and swords.</p> + <p>There was a dory tied up to the end of the dock; I don't know who owned it, but + there it was. "Come on, jump in." I yells, and all hands piled in, and we shoved off; + all in one motion almost, and by the time Argand's crowd got to the stringpiece we + were a vessel length away, and pulling like homeward bound.</p> + <p>"Lay to it." I kept saying to them.</p> + <p>"Aye, lay to it, and we'll eat that turkey for Christmas yet," yells Sam.</p> + <p>"Lay to it, and we'll have more than the turkey." I says.</p> + <p>"What's that we'll have, Alec?" hollers Sam.</p> + <p>"Pull to the Aurora and see." I hollers back. It was blowing so hard we could + hardly hear each other, and what with the chop we were driving the dory through we + might well have been in swimming.</p> + <p>We made the <i>Aurora</i>, and, looking back as I leaped over her rail, I could + see Miller running back up the dock.</p> + <p>"Hurry, fellows." I yells to them, "Miller's gone to head us off."</p> + <p>As we drops onto the <i>Aurora's</i> deck a head pops out of the fo'c's'le + companion-way. He looked like <a name="page68" id="page68"></a><span + class="pagenum">[pg 68]</span> he'd just come out of a fine sleep. "You," I yelled, + "allay you—rauss—beat it," and rushed him to the dory we'd just come + aboard in. He looks up at me in the most puzzled way. Two more heads popped up out of + the companion-way. "And allay you two," yells Sam and Archie, and grabs 'em and + heaves 'em into the dory, casts off her painter, and they drifts off like men in a + trance. One minute they were sound asleep in their bunks and the next adrift and + half-dressed in a dory in the middle of the harbor with a gale of wind roaring in + their ears and a choppy sea wetting 'em down.</p> + <p>"In with her chain-anchor slack," I calls, "and then up with her jibs," which they + did. "And now her fores'l—up with her fores'l." Then we broke out her + chain-anchor. I was to the wheel and knew the second the anchor was clear of the + bottom by the way she leaped under me. "Don't stop to cat-head that anchor," I calls, + "but cut her hawser." They cut her hawser free, and with the big anchor-rope kinking + through the hawse-hole, away went the <i>Aurora</i>, picking up, as she went, the + chain-anchor with its eight or ten fathoms of chain still out and tucking it under + her bilge; and there that anchor stayed, jammed hard against her bottom planking, + while she rushed across the harbor.</p> + <p>"Now," I said, "let's see if we c'n work out of <a name="page69" + id="page69"></a><span class="pagenum">[pg 69]</span> this blessed pocket without + somebody having to notify the insurance companies afterward."</p> + <p>All along the water-front the people by now were crowding to look at us. All they + saw was an American fishing schooner with a crazy American crew trying to pick her + way through a crowded harbor with her four lowers set in a living gale.</p> + <p>We were across the harbor in no time. "Stand by now—stand by sheets," I sung + out. Steady as statues they waited for the word, and when they got it—"Har-r-d + a-lee-e!" Whf-f the steam came out of them, and the busiest of all was Sam Leary, + with the big turkey between his feet.</p> + <p>As she came around I was afraid her anchor would take bottom and her way be + checked. It did touch, but the <i>Aurora</i> spun on her toes so quick that before + that anchor knew it was down she was off and flying free again.</p> + <p>All this time I was looking around for Miller and at last I saw him in a little + power boat. He had the French gun-boat in mind that was sure, but his craft was + making heavy weather of it, and before he was half-way to the gun-boat we were under + her stern, on our shoot for the harbor entrance, and from the gun-boat's deck they + were peeping down on us, grinning and yelling the same as everybody else, waiting to + see us pile up on the rocks somewhere.</p> + <a name="page70" id="page70"></a><span class="pagenum">[pg 70]</span> + <p>But no rocks for the <i>Aurora</i> that Christmas Day. She knew what we wanted of + her. There's a spindle beacon in Saint Pierre harbor, white-painted slats on a + white-painted rock sticking out of the water, and there was a French packet lying to + the other side. We had to go between. I knew they were betting a hundred to one we'd + hit one or the other.</p> + <p>We weathered the packet and squeezed by the beacon. The end of our long bowsprit + did hit the white-painted slats, gave 'em a good healthy wallop, but that wasn't any + surprise—we figured on going close. We were by and safe, and looking back from + the wheel to mark her wake swashing over the very rock itself, I had to whisper + <i>to</i> her:</p> + <p>"<i>Aurora</i>, girl, you're all I ever said you were." But if you'd seen her, the + big spars of her, the set of her rigging, the fine-fitting sails, the beautiful line + of the rail, and the straight flat deck, you'd have to admit it wasn't any surprise. + You couldn't 've done it with every vessel—but the <i>Aurora!</i> A great bit + of wood, the <i>Aurora!</i></p> + <p>And looking past her wake, I picked out Miller's motor boat along inside the + French gun-boat. But no gun-boat was worrying me then. They might chase me, but the + gun-boat wasn't afloat that could 've chased and caught the <i>Aurora</i> in that + gale. A man didn't need to be a French captain to know that.</p> + <a name="page71" id="page71"></a><span class="pagenum">[pg 71]</span> + <p>But for fear they might chase us, I kept her going. And after we'd had time to get + our breath, we took a peek into her hold. And it was loaded with cases—wine, + brandy—liquors of all kinds. And the gang said: "How about it, skipper?" And I + said: "Help yourself—you've earned it," and they helped themselves.</p> + <p>And they had their promised Christmas dinner. The turkey had only to be warmed up. + After it was warmed up, it was fine to hear Sam telling about the recapturing of it. + "He was in the kitchen—just been hauled out the oven—and the chef, he was + standing over him with a big carving knife, when I spots the pair of 'em through the + window. 'Stand by, fellows,' I hollers, and jumps through the window and grabs the + carving knife and chases cheffie out the room with it. And back through the window + comes me and the turk. An' they all hollers murder and comes after us. And look at + him now! Twenty-five pounds he weighs—the biggest turkey, I'm tellin' you, ever + sailed out of ol' Saint Peer. A whale, twenty-five pounds as he lies there. And four + kinds of wine—four kinds. Cassie, champagne, claret, which you don't have to + drink 'less you want to, and that red-colored wine I don't know the name of, but good + stuff—I sampled it. And that's what I call a Christmas dinner."</p> + <a name="page72" id="page72"></a><span class="pagenum">[pg 72]</span> + <p>And I guess it was. Pretty soon they were hopping around like a lot of leaping + goats. The best-natured crowd ever you see, mind, but it was Christmas Day, and + they'd done a good job; the blood was running wild inside them, and I let them run a + while. And then when I thinks it time to begin to straighten them out, I looks them + over and finally picking out Archie Gillis I says, 'Archie, I think you're the + drunkest! Take the wheel and soak it out.'</p> + <p>And Archie stood to the wheel, and up the cabin steps the rest of the gang kept + passing him drinks of champagne when they thought I wasn't looking.</p> + <p>By dark of that Christmas we shot into Folly Cove in Placentia Bay and came to + anchor off John Rose's wharf. And the <i>Aurora's</i> crew were there helping John, + and there was the load of herring John had promised. And he thought I'd come for the + herring, but I hadn't—not yet. I had a word in private with John, and he found + a nice little place among the cliffs, and with John Rose and the <i>Aurora's</i> crew + it didn't take long to stow those cases of wine where no stranger would find them in + a hurry.</p> + <p>And when that was done I goes over the papers again. And sure enough, her papers + read for a fishing trip to the Grand Banks. Her crew had been shipped for a fishing + trip. Her gear, dories, <a name="page73" id="page73"></a><span class="pagenum">[pg + 73]</span> bait (not much bait though) was all for a fishing trip. It was plain as + could be, I had Miller under my lee. And so we put out again into the night, and + before daylight we were back in Saint Pierre harbor again, and all hands ashore.</p> + <p>And when Miller woke up in the morning there was the <i>Aurora</i> laying to + anchor in the stream just where she'd been the morning before. And we were having a + nice little breakfast up to Antone's when Miller and the governor and the gun-boat + captain comes to get me. And Miller was going to arrest me, put me in irons, not a + minute's delay, not one, and I says "For what?" And Miller throws up his hands and + repeats: "For what? He says for what? Mong Doo, for what?" And I says: "Yes, for + what? What are you going to arrest me for? For a little excursion trip, a little run + off shore, is it?—so's to eat our Christmas turkey in peace?" I see that my + play lay with the French naval officer, so I turns to him. "There was a turkey. Old + Antone here will tell you that it belonged to one of my men, Mr. Leary + here—that he won it fairly, and that the same turkey was stolen from him in + Henri Argand's. And Mr. Leary got it back. And they would not let him have it in + peace, and so, to escape mistreatment, we jumped aboard the first vessel we saw in + the stream and put out the harbor. You yourself <a name="page74" + id="page74"></a><span class="pagenum">[pg 74]</span> doubtless, saw us." He nodded. + "Your whole crew saw us. The whole harbor saw us. There was no concealment." I + stopped for the French captain and the governor to get that. Miller was looking at me + goo-goo-eyed, but both the officials nodded and said: "That is true."</p> + <p>"And when we found ourselves safe out to sea, we had our dinner, our Christmas + dinner—in the peace we had sought. And surely these gentlemen"—I bowed my + best to the gun-boat captain and the magistrate—"do not consider that a + crime—to ask to be allowed to eat our Christmas dinner in peace."</p> + <p>Miller was fair up in the air by then—"You pi-rates—pi-rates."</p> + <p>I leaps to my feet."Pirates—to me? To these men? Simple honest fishermen who + know only toil? Who toils harder than they? Pirates—to them! Why, if they were + anything but the simplest and honestest set of men, they would have taken that vessel + out of my hands and sold her—sold her in the States—and what could you or + I or anybody have done about it? But did they—or I? No, sir. As soon as we had + finished our Christmas dinner we brought her back."</p> + <p>"But the wine?" shrieks Miller.</p> + <p>"What wine?"</p> + <p>"The wine—the wine—her cargo of wine."</p> + <a name="page75" id="page75"></a><span class="pagenum">[pg 75]</span> + <p>"Wine? Cargo of wine—what's he talking about?" I looks at my crowd, and they + all says: "Wine? Cargo of wine?—he's crazy."</p> + <p>I turns impatiently to the governor and French captain. "Gentlemen, this is a + serious accusation, but easily settled. If there was wine in that vessel, surely her + papers will say something of it. It will be on her manifest, that is certain."</p> + <p>Now these two, the governor and the French naval officer, were honest men. "That + is so," they said. "He is quite right—quite right," and looked at Miller, and + Miller, with his eyes like door-knobs, looks at me. And I gives him a wink with my + wind'ard eye and he near blew up.</p> + <p>But he begins to see a thing or two, so he goes off with the French officials, but + before we had finished smoking our after-breakfast pipeful he comes back—alone + now—and says: "What do you propose?" And I said: "Within a thousand miles of + here is a friend of mine with a lot of wine—as good a lot as the <i>Aurora</i> + had in her hold yesterday—maybe a couple of dozen quarts shy—you know, a + Christmas dinner, and so on—and only last night my friend was figuring it up, + and he thought there was twenty thousand dollars' worth in this lot of his, and that + without figuring in the duty—but he don't care for wine much—but he does + love a good Vessel, and he was looking the <i>Aurora</i> over and he <a name="page76" + id="page76"></a><span class="pagenum">[pg 76]</span> said he'd be willing to exchange + all that wine for the <i>Aurora</i>. I told him that the <i>Aurora</i> only cost you + twenty-five hundred, but he said, 'No matter, I have a weakness for the + <i>Aurora</i>,' this friend of mine. Of course there'll be a few little extra + expenses you'll have to pay for, like the hawser and the big anchor cut away and the + keep of a crew for a week over in Newfoundland, and so on, but that won't be + much—five hundred dollars ought to cover it all."</p> + <p>And Miller gave back the <i>Aurora</i> and paid over the five hundred, and I gave + him an order on John Rose for the wine. And then I took the little baby's brooch out + of my pocket and handed it back to him.</p> + <p>And then I sailed over to Placentia Bay in the <i>Aurora</i> and took twenty-one + hundred barrels of herring off John Rose and put out, and, getting the first of a + stiff easterly, the <i>Aurora</i> carried it all the way to Gloucester. And I was + home to the wife and baby by New Year's. And the baby got a good brooch. I could + afford it. From the profits of twenty-one hundred barrels of fine fat herring I could + well afford it.</p> + <p>I haven't seen Miller since, but they say he's shyer than he used to be of simple + American fishermen.</p> + <hr /> + <a name="page77" id="page77"></a><span class="pagenum">[pg 77]</span> + <h2>Light-Ship 67</h2> + <p>Perrault was the good old Frenchman who kept the general store just across from + the Navy Yard gate, and Baldwin was the chief boson's mate, U.S.N., who commanded the + <i>Whist</i>, the little tug which was used as a general utility boat by the Navy + Yard people.</p> + <p>Old Perrault was born in Paris, and, in God's goodness, hoped yet to die there. + And Baldwin had been in Paris, more than once in his cruising youth, and could + converse of Paris; and to converse of Paris, in such loving language, was it not to + win one's heart?</p> + <p>Old Perrault had never dissembled his regard for the sailor. A pity he viewed life + so carelessly, the brave-hearted Baldwin. So excellent in many respects, if he had + but a little ambition for himself! If he but hearkened a little for the world's + opinion. But such a man! Sometimes old Perrault wished that his motherless Claire + would disregard all his wordly homilies, fall in love with the rugged Baldwin, and + marry him.</p> + <p>Baldwin himself maintained no such exalted hopes. A fine husband he'd make after + his riotous <a name="page80" id="page80"></a><span class="pagenum">[pg 80]</span> + years! But he had a friend, recently detailed to the yard, and warmly recommended by + the boson's mate, this friend Harty, chief wireless operator, soon came to be the + most regular of all the Saturday night attendants at old Perrault's store. It was on + Saturday nights that the unmarried foreman on the breakwater job came up to see old + Perrault. If you stood well with the old fellow, like as not he would ask you to the + house of a Sunday afternoon, and then you could sit around and rest your eyes on the + lovely Claire while she played the piano.</p> + <p>One might think that old Perrault, who so casually picked his company, was a + careless sort of parent; but not so, as witness his questioning of Baldwin, when it + began to dawn on him that this wireless operator was becoming a distinguished member + of the Sunday afternoon parties; and the boson's mate, who revered old Perrault, but + who also thought a lot of his friend Harty, spoke judiciously.</p> + <p>"He's all right," he replied to old Perrault, "all right. Yes, I know he used to + drink an' was generally wild once; but he's over that. Oh, sure, all over that + now."</p> + <p>It was beginning to look like Harty for Perrault's son-in-law, when Bowen came + along. Bowen was the expert who came to overhaul the wireless <a name="page81" + id="page81"></a><span class="pagenum">[pg 81]</span> plant in the yard. An + easy-going, but wide-awake sort, Bowen, who seemed to have been everywhere and who + could talk of where he had been, talk without end, and always with the intimate + little touches which you never found in the guidebooks. He captured old Perrault at + the first assault. Old Perrault from behind his counter happening to catch a stray + word, listened, looked up, and, noting the animated features, hastily signalled the + new-comer to come out of the crowd. One minute later he had put the vital question: + Had Mr. Bowen ever been to Paris?</p> + <p>To Paris! Bowen started to touch the end of a finger for every time he had been to + Paris. Old Perrault could not wait for him to finish. "And the Champs + Élysées, Mister Bowen, you have been there?"</p> + <p>"The Champs Élysées? If I had a dollar, M'sieu Perrault—"</p> + <p>"Eh?" The old man wanted to hear him say that "M'sieu" in just that way + again—"if you had one dollar, Mister Bowen?"</p> + <p>Bowen understood. "Yes, if I had a dollar, M'sieu, for every time I sat on one of + those chairs inside the sidewalk—in under the trees, you know, M'sieu—and + watched the autos go by! Talk about autos!—there's the place for autos, coming + down from that big Napoleon Arch. Some arch, that, <a name="page82" + id="page82"></a><span class="pagenum">[pg 82]</span> isn't it? Yes, sir—down + from there to the Place de la Concorde and back again, around the Arch and on to the + Bois. And there's a sight for a man, too! To sit out on the Bois sidewalk, M'sieu, + your chair almost under the bushes, and watch those cabs and autos in the late + afternoon, coming on dark. Count them? No more than you could count fire-flies of an + evening in the West Indies—like one string of light."</p> + <p>"Mon Dieu! Come to the inner room, if you please, sir, and tell me more. What a + good angel which has sent you here! Twenty-five years since I have seen my Paris. And + the Tuileries, my friend, is it yet the same?"</p> + <p>"Just the same, M'sieu, a million bare-legged children with short white socks + running wild, and another half a million nurses with white caps running wild after + them. And the Eiffel Tower! But that's since your time, M'sieu Perrault?"</p> + <p>"Ah—h, but have I not heard? Continue, continue, if you please, sir. You + bring a strange joy to my heart. The Louvre, for example—you have been there, + yes?"</p> + <p>"Been there? Yes, and 'most googoo-eyed from looking at the pictures + there—miles of 'em, aren't there?"</p> + <p>"Oh-h! and Mona Lisa—yes!"</p> + <p>"That dark one with the queer kind of a smile? <a name="page83" + id="page83"></a><span class="pagenum">[pg 83]</span> She must have had green eyes, + that one—green eyes with lights in them. And she kept them all guessing, I'll + bet a hat, when she was alive—" and Bowen ran on till every blessed breakwater + man silently stole away. Bowen and old Perrault had a three o'clock session that + first night; and within the year he had married Claire.</p> + <h3>II</h3> + <p>Having completed his work on the wireless plant at the Navy Yard, Bowen thought + himself due for a lay-off. And he did want to be home for a while, but orders came to + have installed before the end of the year an experimental plant on Light-ship 67, + which guarded Tide Rip Shoal to the eastward.</p> + <p>Bowen, with his two helpers and his apparatus, took passage with Baldwin on the + wheezy little <i>Whist</i> to where, twenty miles east by south from the end of the + breakwater, lay the tossing light-ship.</p> + <p>Baldwin was well acquainted with old 67. Every once in a while the commandant + would order Baldwin to make this trip for the accommodation of somebody or other in + the yard. "But a wonder," he observed now, as he had observed a score of <a + name="page84" id="page84"></a><span class="pagenum">[pg 84]</span> times before on + nearing her—"a wonder they wouldn't put one of those new class o' steam + lightships out here. If I was you, Bowen, I'd have an eye to the life-boat you see + hanging to her stern there."</p> + <p>"Why?"</p> + <p>"Well, if the old hooker went adrift, you might need it."</p> + <p>"What's her sails for?"</p> + <p>"I dunno. I often wondered, though. They've been tied up, just like you see 'em + now—stopped snug and neat between gaffs and booms—for, oh, I + dunno—twenty years now, I reckon. I know I've yet to see 'em hoisted. But + when'll I come and get you?"</p> + <p>"I'll send word to the yard station by wireless, to Harty or whoever's on watch + there, when we get it rigged."</p> + <p>"All right. And say, a great thing that wireless, ain't it? Well, good luck." + Baldwin gave the bell and the <i>Whist</i> backed away. He rolled his wheel over, + gave her another bell and around she came; then the jingle and ahead she went + full-speed, which in smooth water was almost eight knots.</p> + <p>The light-ship crew, headed by her yellow-haired keeper, stood around and watched + Bowen and his helpers assembling the parts of the wireless. <a name="page85" + id="page85"></a><span class="pagenum">[pg 85]</span> A momentous occasion for the + light-ship crew, for nobody bothered them much. Once every two months the supply ship + came around, and sometimes, if the weather was fine, some unhurried coaster would + stand in and toss them a bundle of newspapers. But no running alongside old 67 by any + big fellows. A good point of departure, Tide Rip Shoal! Sight it over your stern and + lay your course by her, but otherwise give her a wide berth; for you could pile up a + ten-thousand tonner on that shoal or the beach to the west and—yes, sir, high + and dry, before you knew it, especially if it was thick and you were coming from the + east'ard. No, the big fellows were satisfied to have a peek at Tide Rip through a + long glass; and so on 67 anything at all except a spell of bad weather stirred them + deeply.</p> + <p>In the daylight hours Bowen and his helpers worked at their wireless, and at night + they sat in with the light-ship crew. Bowen usually played checkers in the cabin with + the keeper, Nelson, and while they played the keeper gave him the gossip. He had been + nineteen years on Tide Rip Shoal light-ship, had keeper Nelson.</p> + <p>"No, no things never happen. He blow and she tumble about and her chain + chafe—chafe tarrible sometime. Nineteen year those chain ban chafe so. One time + he blow ten day without stop, <a name="page86" id="page86"></a><span + class="pagenum">[pg 86]</span> but" (he removed his big pipe to laugh + aloud)—"but ten day over and she right dere. Good ol' 67, she ban right dere. I + axpect ol' 67, she be here on Yoodgment Day." Old Nelson put his pipe back, puffed + three times, frowned at the checker-board, scratched his yellow head, let drop his + eyelids and pondered. At about the time Bowen began to think the keeper must be + taking a nap, a long arm swooped down and moved a black checker one square + north-easterly.</p> + <p>Now, if Bowen had been riding to anchor in that one spot with old 67 for nineteen + years, perhaps he, too, would have paid small attention to a gale of wind and a high + sea; but he was a shore-going man, and he grew very, very weary of the jumping and + the rolling, and of the everlasting rattling and chafing of the iron chains in the + iron hawse-holes.</p> + <p>Two chains there were, like double-leashes to a whippet's throat. The heave of the + sea would get her and up she would ride, shaking, snapping, quivering to get her + head. Up, up she would go, and as she struggled up, up, Bowen, watching, would find + himself crying out, "By the Lord, she's parted them." But no—Gr-r—the + iron chains would go, Kr-r the iron hawse-holes would echo, and, suddenly brought to, + dead she would stop, shake herself, and again shake herself to get free; but always + the savage chains would be there to her <a name="page87" id="page87"></a><span + class="pagenum">[pg 87]</span> throat, and down she would fall trembling; and the + white slaver would scatter a cable length from her jaws as she fell.</p> + <p>Bowen, with an arm hooked into a weather-stay, would stand out and watch her by + the hour; and "Some fine night you'll break loose," he would say over and over to + himself, "and then there'll be the devil to pay around here," and on returning to the + cabin he would tell Nelson about it.</p> + <p>"No, no," Nelson would shake his head, and after he had had time to think it over, + he would smile at Bowen's fears. On nights like these, when he couldn't have his + little game because he couldn't keep the checkers from hopping off the board, Nelson + liked to lie in his bunk, within range of the big, square, sawdust-filled box which + set just forward of the cheerful stove. With eyes mostly on the oil-clothed floor, + the light-keeper would smoke and yarn unhurriedly. "No, no," Nelson would repeat. + "For nineteen year now she ban here, yoost like you see now. No drift for ol' 67. She + ban too well trained."</p> + <p>But the chafed-out chains gave way at last. Christmas Eve it was, the night when + Bowen had hoped to be through with his work. It was also the third and worst night of + the gale, and Bowen, restless, homesick, was on deck to see it. She leaped and + strained as she had leaped and strained <a name="page88" id="page88"></a><span + class="pagenum">[pg 88]</span> ten thousand times before—and then they writhed, + those chains, like a stricken rattlesnake, for perhaps three seconds, and + S-s-t!—quick as that—they went whistling into the boiling sea. Off she + sprang then—Bowen could no more than have snapped his fingers ere she was + off—foolishly, wildly, and then, almost as suddenly as she had leaped, she + fetched up. It was as if she didn't know just what to do in her new freedom. And + while she paused, the sea swept down and caught her one under the ear. Broadside she + broached and aboard her foamed the ceaseless sea, and the wind took her. And whing! + and bing! and Kr-r-r-k!—that was the life-boat splintered and torn loose. And + sea, and wind, and tide, all working together on old 67, away she went before it.</p> + <p>Inshore, they knew, the high surf was booming; and they made sail then, and for a + while thought they could weather it; but when the whistling devils caught the rotten, + age-eaten, untested canvas—whoosh! countless strips of dirty, rusty canvas were + riding the clouded heavens like some unwashed witches.</p> + <div class="figcenter"> + <a name="image4" id="image4"></a> <a href="images/image4_full.jpg"><img + src="images/image4_thumbnail.png" alt="By and by he caught an answering call" /> + </a> + <p>By and by he caught an answering call</p> + </div> + <p>Tide and wind were taking her toward the beach, and Bowen, everybody, even the + unimaginative viking in command, could picture that beach and the surf piling up on + it. High as the light above their heads it would be, and they would live just <a + name="page89" id="page89"></a><span class="pagenum">[pg 89]</span> about ten seconds + in it. Yes, if they were lucky, they might last that long.</p> + <p>Bowen was one of those workmen who like to make a good job of a thing. He was not + ready to send his first wireless message. Another morning's work and he had hoped to + be ready, and that first message was to be a Christmas greeting to his wife; but now + he made shift to get a message away in some fashion. With limber wrist and fingers he + began to snap out his signal number. A dozen, twenty, surely a hundred times he + repeated the letters, holding up every half minute or so to listen. By and by he + caught an answering call. It was the Navy Yard station. Feverishly he sent:</p> + <p>"Light-ship 67. Tide Rip Shoal. Have parted moorings. Drifting toward beach. Send + help."</p> + <p>He waited for an answer. None came. He repeated. No answer. Over and over he sent + it. At last he caught: "OK. Been getting you. Go on."</p> + <p>"Drifting fast. West by south. Before morning will be in surf."</p> + <p>Again Bowen waited, and then the answer came: "What do you want me to do?"</p> + <p>"Do something to save us."</p> + <p>"Why don't you do something to save yourself?"</p> + <p>"Sails blown away. Life-boat gone."</p> + <a name="page90" id="page90"></a><span class="pagenum">[pg 90]</span> + <p>"Haven't you got a chart of Paris?"</p> + <p>"Chart of what?"</p> + <p>"Paris? With a few M'sieus on it? Good night."</p> + <p>Bowen let go the key, leaned back in his chair, rubbed his eyes, took off his + receiving gear and stared at the wall.</p> + <p>"What answer?" Nelson and his peering crew were at his shoulder.</p> + <p>"No answer."</p> + <p>"Dan we moost go up and dowse dose signal light, so no ship t'ink we ban on shoal + yet," and out onto the deck the impassive Nelson led his men.</p> + <p>"Good old squarehead—you're all right," muttered Bowen. "But as for you," he + gritted, "if I could only—just one grip of your throat is all I'd ask for, and + then, you dog!"</p> + <h3>III</h3> + <p>Harty closed his wireless office and headed for the water-front. Near the + shore-end of the breakwater he came to a halt. He could but dimly see the beginning + of the outstretching wall of concrete, but plainly enough he could hear the combers + thundering over the crest of it.</p> + <p>A proper night for an enemy to be adrift in a <a name="page91" + id="page91"></a><span class="pagenum">[pg 91]</span> powerless hulk. Sea enough to + suit any purpose out there. And wind! From where he stood in the lee of the + donkey-engine house, to the water's edge was a full hundred feet, and yet even so, + whenever he stepped out into the open, it was only to be drenched with spray. And out + there in the blackness, twenty miles offshore, it would be blowing good; out there on + the edge of that bank, in the hollow of the short, high, ugly seas, was a rolling, + battered light-ship; as helpless as—well, there was nothing ashore to compare + to her helplessness. And when she hit in on the beach—when she hit the + sand—it would be over and over she'd roll, and out of her he would come and be + smothered. For a second he'd be smooth and sleek as a wet rat and then—Oh, + then!</p> + <p>Even in moderate weather, what chance would they have in that surf? And to-night + it would be to her mast-head, with combers curving like a rattlesnake's neck, and + twisting, and hissing, and they would catch him up, and ten ways he'd go then, + gurgling, smothering, drowning, and his body, if ever it did come ashore for anybody + to find,—after a December night,—they'd find it frozen stiff.</p> + <p>The walls of the little engine house were icing up, the spray was freezing on his + moustache—surely a proper night for a man's enemy to be lost. In the lee of the + little shack he lit a cigar; but it <a name="page92" id="page92"></a><span + class="pagenum">[pg 92]</span> would not stay lit, and he threw it from him. The + curse which he hove after it brought an answering hail from across the dock, "Hullo + there"! Harty drew back, but the hurrying step drew nearer, and suddenly the hurrying + form was beside him, and a pair of eyes were peering at him.</p> + <p>"Who's this? Why, hullo, Bud! What you doin' here?"</p> + <p>"Who's that? Oh, hello, Baldy. Where'd you come from?"</p> + <p>"From the <i>Whist</i>—where else? Told the crew to beat it—all except + old Pete. Holidays don't mean anything to Pete, so he's sleeping aboard. A wild + night, Bud. Maybe we wasn't glad not to be caught outside! The old <i>Whist</i> she'd + sure have a fine time outside to-night. She'd last about half a night-watch out + there—say out where old 67 is to-night. But where you bound, Bud?"</p> + <p>"Nowhere—anywhere."</p> + <p>"Well, what d'y' say if we take a look in on old Perrault?"</p> + <p>"What do you want to go there for?"</p> + <p>"Oh, forget that. Come on. Every Christmas Eve since I've known him we've drunk a + Christmas health together. A good old scout, Perrault, and you and me, Bud, we ought + to be ashamed the way we kept away from him lately. Passed him on the street the + other day. 'Ah-h, <a name="page93" id="page93"></a><span class="pagenum">[pg + 93]</span> dear Baldwin, you have time for the Port Light saloon, but not for your + old frien'", and he shakes his old head. 'Please, do not fail, Cap-tan, on this + Christmas Eve!' he says to me. 'And Mr. Harty also.' Come on now. Be good. 'Twarn't + him didn't marry you, mind. Come on, Bud and forget it."</p> + <p>"All right—go ahead."</p> + <p>It was old Perrault himself who spotted Baldwin coming in the door of the store. + His joy was bursting. "Ah-h, Cap-tan! Ah-h, you come once more to see your old + frien'. And you also, Mister Harty. Now then—and you shall also, Mister Harty. + Yes, yes, I say it—drink with me to the Christmas."</p> + <p>Baldwin filled his glass. Harty made no move.</p> + <p>"Come on, Bud, you too. What's the matter with you? Here, fill her up. What's the + matter with you, anyway, to-night?"</p> + <p>"I'm on the water-wagon."</p> + <p>"Since when?"</p> + <p>"Since to-day."</p> + <p>"Sufferin' Neptune! Who ever heard of a water-wagon doin' business on Christmas + Eve? I think if we looked it up, you'd find a law against it, and if there ain't, + there ought to be. Come on. No? Well, all right, stay on it. Mo-sher Perrault—" + and, as he had done for many a Christmas <a name="page94" id="page94"></a><span + class="pagenum">[pg 94]</span> Eve before, Baldwin touched his glass to old + Perrault's, and gave the toast.</p> + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="line"> + "A fair, fair wind to you and yours, + </div> + <div class="line"> + No matter the course you sail!" + </div> + </div> + </div> + <p>Ere they had set their glasses down, Harty was making for the door. Old Perrault + entreated. "Why, Mister Harty!" and Baldwin whispered, "What's your hurry, Bud?"</p> + <p>"I've got to go," he said to Perrault; to Baldwin he whispered, "Somebody's coming + in—I heard her voice."</p> + <p>"Oh, varry well, if you will not stay," sighed old Perrault. "But hark! Attend one + moment, gentlemen. She comes." He lowered his voice. "She goes to-night to the + church. She has, you understand, gentlemen, fears. And also—" he leaned over + and whispered into Baldwin's ear.</p> + <p>"No!"</p> + <p>"Truly."</p> + <p>Baldwin took off his hat and clasped the storekeeper's hand. "God keep her."</p> + <p>"Sh-h—She is here."</p> + <p>She stood in the doorway. It was Harty's first chance in months to look her fairly + in the face. She smiled on Baldwin, bowed, but without smiling to Harty, kissed her + father, whispered a word in his ear, and turned to go. Baldwin jumped forward. <a + name="page95" id="page95"></a><span class="pagenum">[pg 95]</span> "Mrs. Bowen, + hadn't me and Mister Harty better see you to the church—might be a drunken + loafer or two on the street—and a blowy night."</p> + <p>"I shall be most honored, Captain."</p> + <p>They went out; but from them all not a word, until they were at the church door, + and here it was she who spoke. "Captain Baldwin, is it not a dangerous night?"</p> + <p>"Meaning at sea, Mrs. Bowen?"</p> + <p>"At sea—on the light-ship."</p> + <p>"Why, bless you, no. Old 67, she's been out on that spot—Lord knows how long + she's been out there. She's sort of a part of the furniture out there now. Why, the + very fishes that come to feed on South Shoal, Mrs. Bowen—they'd think they was + on the wrong bank if they couldn't look up and see the barnacled bottom of old 67 + over 'em. Rough? Lord, yes, plenty rough out there t'night, but not dangerous. Lord, + no, Mrs. Bowen, not dangerous. All she's got to do is to hang on to her + moorin's."</p> + <p>"You are a kind-hearted man, Mr. Baldwin, and a good friend. My husband, he thinks + the world of you. I go in now, to pray for him, to bring him home to us. Good-night, + and a happy Christmas to you." She hesitated, "And to you, Mr. Harty, a happy + Christmas also."</p> + <p>Harty did not close the door behind her until he <a name="page96" + id="page96"></a><span class="pagenum">[pg 96]</span> had seen her kneel at the + altar-rail. Out in the street again, he turned abruptly to his chum. "Look here, + Baldy, what was it her father whispered to you—just before she came into the + backroom?"</p> + <p>"What? Why-y—I—Well, no harm telling it, I reckon, though I don't know + why he didn't tell you, too, Bud—she's goin'—" Baldwin lowered his + voice—"she's goin' to have a baby, and—what's it?"</p> + <p>"Nothing."</p> + <p>"Oh-h! And her old father, you'll be hearin' no more from him about goin' back to + Paris to die. Gee, but this wind is fierce, ain't it? Say, Bud, but d'y' b'lieve that + some people, especially women, that they know without bein' told when people they + think a lot of is in danger?"</p> + <p>"I don't know. Do you?"</p> + <p>"M-m—sometimes I think there's something in it. Did you notice the look in + her eyes to-night? But—" the red lamp of the Port Light saloon loomed brightly + ahead—"it's a pretty cold night—a toothful o' something, what d'y' + say?"</p> + <p>"Nope."</p> + <p>"Then where you bound?"</p> + <p>"I don't know—take a walk, I guess."</p> + <p>"Well, you sure picked a fine night for a walk. Better lash your ears to your + head, if <a name="page97" id="page97"></a><span class="pagenum">[pg 97]</span> you're + heading for the beach-side. Be back this way soon?"</p> + <p>"I don't know."</p> + <p>"You don't know? What's got into you to-night, Bud?" Baldwin stared at his chum. + He stepped nearer and laid a hand on Harty's arm. "You ain't sick, Bud?"</p> + <p>"God, no! I'm all right. I'll take a walk and come back."</p> + <p>"All right, but hurry back, won't you?"</p> + <h3>IV</h3> + <p>The Port Light saloon was doing a fine business. The swinging doors between the + backroom and the bar were swinging all the time—and at the various tables a + score of young men and a dozen or so of young women, and one stout fellow at the + piano, were roaring dull care away.</p> + <p>The piano occupied one corner of an alcove off the large backroom. In the other + corner of the alcove Baldwin and a few friends were sitting into a quiet little game. + Things had been breaking well for the sailor, and it promised to be a blissful night, + for when luck came his way in a poker game, Baldwin could fall into a trance, if + nobody disturbed him.</p> + <a name="page98" id="page98"></a><span class="pagenum">[pg 98]</span> + <p>It was Hatty who came bursting through the swinging doors to disturb him. One peek + at his chum's face and "O Lord!" murmured Baldwin, "still on it." Aloud he added, + "Sit in, Bud," and Harty sat in, after first ordering a round of drinks.</p> + <p>Baldwin lifted his drink. "Fell off that water-wagon kind o' sudden, didn't you, + Bud," but without even a curious glance emptied his glass.</p> + <p>Four or five hands were played, and, luck still running the sailor's way, he was + smiling like a moonlit sea, when, "Say, Baldy," shook him out of his revery.</p> + <p>"Lord, Bud! What?"</p> + <p>"A hell of a fine bunch we are."</p> + <p>"Fine how?"</p> + <p>"To be spending our Christmas here."</p> + <p>"Why, where else would we be?"</p> + <p>"Where but home?"</p> + <p>Baldwin smiled broadly. "Say, Bud, I don't see you logging any record-breaking + runs for home.</p> + <p>"Blast it!—I've got no home."</p> + <p>"Well, who has?"</p> + <p>"But—" Harty took the spare pack which he had been riffling and slammed it + down on the table—"there's men who've got homes—good homes—who're + going to their death to sea to-night."</p> + <p>"What's the matter, Bud? Sit down. Sure there are. They're there every night, + goin' to <a name="page99" id="page99"></a><span class="pagenum">[pg 99]</span> their + death somewhere out to sea, but how c'n we help it?"</p> + <p>"We <i>can</i> help it." Harty stood up "Fine men we are, all of us."</p> + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="line"> + Ting-a-ling-a-ling-a-tump-ti— + </div> + <div class="line"> + Ting-a-ling-a-ling-a-tump-ti— + </div> + </div> + </div> + <p>came from the piano.</p> + <p>Harty whirled around. "And as for <i>you</i>!" He picked up the spare pack and + hurled them at the fat piano-player. "Blast you! Yes, <i>you</i>—I said + <i>you</i>, didn't I—shut up! It's petticoats you ought to be wearing."</p> + <p>The piano-player's lower lip fell away from his teeth. His wall eyes opened + abnormally. "Why, what did I do to you?" he gasped.</p> + <p>"Nothing. You couldn't do anything to anybody. You haven't the gimp. Shut up."</p> + <p>Harty faced Baldwin. "The hell we can't help it. The light-ship to South Shoal + could be going to her death with all hands, and we're sitting here and guzzling + rum."</p> + <p>Baldwin was holding his cards up in front of his eyes. He riffled the close-set + edges with a dexterous thumb, took another squint, pursed his lips, said + softly—"M-m—yes, I'm in," dropped two white chips onto the little pile in + the centre, then, looking up, laughed tolerantly at Harty.</p> + <a name="page100" id="page100"></a><span class="pagenum">[pg 100]</span> + <p>"Rum? Mine's rye, Bud, when there's any choice, but what's wrong with you + to-night? Sit down. Maybe you've got it right, Bud, but what's the use of gettin' + highsterics over it? Maybe some of us could be a lot better than we are, but I don't + know's any of us ever pretended to be anything great, did we?"</p> + <p>"Great? I didn't say anything about <i>great</i> men. We're not half men, + Baldy—the light-ship is going with all hands."</p> + <p>"One card," Baldwin scaled his discard to the table and stuck the new card in with + his others before he answered. His voice was now less patient. "Say, Bud, maybe we're + not half men, but don't rub it in—don't. If anything's wrong with the + light-ship, how'd you know?"</p> + <p>"I know."</p> + <p>"But how?"</p> + <p>"Wireless."</p> + <p>"Wireless?" Baldwin was peering at his cards. Suddenly he looked up. + "Hah—wireless? Eheu-u—" he whistled softly, gently laid his cards + face-down on the table. "You got word, Bud?" He half-turned to the man on his right. + "Do I see you, Bo, did you say?" He picked up his cards. "Sure I'll see you—and + two more red lozenges to come along. But what can we do about it, Bud?"</p> + <p>"There's the <i>Whist</i>, Baldy."</p> + <a name="page101" id="page101"></a><span class="pagenum">[pg 101]</span> + <p>"What, her? Send her to sea to-night? We couldn't if we wanted. She only goes out + under orders from the commandant, remember. And the commandant, he's on leave, + visitin' his married daughter somewhere over Christmas."</p> + <p>"And a G.C.M., too, wouldn't it, Baldwin?" put in the man called Bo, "without + orders."</p> + <p>Harty whirled on Bo. "Who the hell gave you a rating to butt in on this? Orders? + To hell with their orders, and to hell with their general court-martials. Orders, + Baldy, when it's lives to be saved? Christ, Baldy, you haven't forgot, have you? + Bowen's on her. Bowen, man, and remember she's going to—"</p> + <p>Baldwin held up one wide-spread hand palm out. "That's enough, Buddy. You've said + enough. I don't know what the poor old <i>Whist</i> will do once she finds herself + away from the lee of the breakwater t'night, Bud, but we'll go, and if they're there + and we stay afloat, we'll get 'em. And Bo, I could play this hand all night, but two + round blue moons to see what you got. Hah? King full, eh? The nerve of you! What did + y' think I was only taking one card f'r? There, feast your eyes on that fat black + collection, will yuh? In a row? Sure in a row. Look at 'em—a three-toed black + regiment of 'em. And these other little round red, white, and blue boys, cash 'em in, + will yuh, Bo? And put the money in an envelope for me?"</p> + <a name="page102" id="page102"></a><span class="pagenum">[pg 102]</span> + <p>"And for me too." Harty had drawn out a roll of bills and laid them on the table. + "I don't know how much is there—count it, you. And if I don't come 'round + again, here's an address—South Boston, yes—where you can send it. A + little nephew of mine, a fine fat little devil who thinks his uncle's the greatest + man in the world. The poor kid, of course, don't know any different. So long, + fellows. All ready, Baldy?"</p> + <p>"All ready, Bud—head away."</p> + <p>Through the streets, past the Navy Yard gate and through the Navy Yard the two + friends tramped silently.</p> + <p>"Won't you need more than the three of us to handle that tug?" asked Harty.</p> + <p>"Three's plenty, Bud. You and me an' old Pete, we can make out. What's the use of + risking any more, though if we did need 'em, we'd get 'em. We'd only have to beat up + the water-front, and volunteers! They'd come a-running, Bud, from every joint and + dance-hall, enough to run a battleship—in no time, yes, sir. Why, Bud, even + that squash-head of a piano-player would 'a' come if we'd ast him."</p> + <p>"H-m-m—you surely think well of people, Baldy."</p> + <p>"No more strain than to think bad of 'em. But what'd be the use? Us two an' old + Pete, who'll be sleepin' aboard, c'n run her, Bud."</p> + <a name="page103" id="page103"></a><span class="pagenum">[pg 103]</span> + <p>And they had put out in the <i>Whist</i>, and now down in the combined engine and + fire-room of her were Harty and old Pete toiling to keep steam up. A notorious little + craft, the <i>Whist</i>, one of those legacies which sometimes fall to the Service; + the department always going to fix her up, and always putting it off until the next + appropriation. Her old boilers leaked, and in a sea-way her old seams gaped, and what + between keeping steam up and her bilge pumped out, Harty and Pete could hardly find + time to brace their feet whenever she attempted, as she did about every fifteen + seconds, to heave them across the floor.</p> + <p>To the wheel of the <i>Whist</i> was Baldwin, and as with every dive of the + plunging <i>Whist</i> the spray scattered high above her bows, so through the open + windows of the pilot-house came barrels of it, and not a spoonful that didn't go to + his drenching.</p> + <p>"But it's a good thing to get good and wet at first," reflected Baldwin, "then you + won't be worryin' any more about it." It was not only wet, but cold. But naturally, + too, when you're a-wrecking to sea of a cold winter's night you just got to expect a + few little discomforts.</p> + <p>The ancient <i>Whist</i> rolled down, down, down, and jumped up, up, up; but + mostly she went down, and while she was down the swooping seas piled over her. + However, all right so far; an hour now since <a name="page104" id="page104"></a><span + class="pagenum">[pg 104]</span> she had left the breakwater, and there she was still + afloat. No telling always about those wheezy little wrecks of tugs. Baldwin looked + out and back toward her stern, almost with pride. Going since the Civil War, she'd + been, and still afloat. Must have been some little original virtues in her planks + that pleased old Neptune, and so he passed her up. Maybe she'd never been caught in + the open seas on a night like this; well, maybe not, but you betcher she wasn't + afraid of it.</p> + <p>Straight out from the breakwater Baldwin kept her going. Slow, heavy, pounding + work; and now two hours gone, and no light-ship yet. He swung her about, a ticklish + feat, and paralleled the beach to the north, and just off the beach, after an hour of + northing, he spied the distress signals—two, three, yes, and four big + torches.</p> + <p>The countless white-plumed riders were charging by, but straight for the drifting + lights, straight down the line of roaring troopers, Baldwin paraded his little + <i>Whist</i>; and when he was near enough, "We'll heave you a line!" he hailed. "And + in God's name get it, for there mayn't be a chance for a second one afore the + breakers 'll get you."</p> + <p>He placed his mouth to the engine-room tube "Ho-o, Buddie. On deck with your line + now."</p> + <p>"All right, Baldy." Harty turned to his working mate. "So long Pete, see you + later."</p> + <a name="page105" id="page105"></a><span class="pagenum">[pg 105]</span> + <p>"So long, son, and have a care on that open deck."</p> + <p>Harty climbed the iron ladder to the deck, shouldered his way through the + wind-pressed door and onto the deck, and started aft.</p> + <p>It was cold. Under his thin suit of dungaree Harty was rolling in sweat. The + winter wind whipped him like a cat-o'-nine-tails. He crept aft, coiled his heaving + line and waited in the stern for the word. She was jumping so that to hold his feet + on her open, icy deck aft, he was compelled to hook one hand to the towing bitts.</p> + <p>"Only time for one try, so don't let nothing go wrong. An' watch out for any of + those big fellows comin' aboard, Bud," came Baldwin's last warning.</p> + <h3>V</h3> + <p>On Light-ship 67, drifting broad onto the breakers, all hands were perched high in + her rigging, safe above any stray seas; all but Nelson and Bowen, who were hanging on + to her weather rail forward.</p> + <p>Bowen was the first to realize what the figure on the after end of the tug meant + to them. "Heave for here!" he shouted, and Nelson, also awake to the situation, held + up one of the torches for a mark.</p> + <a name="page106" id="page106"></a><span class="pagenum">[pg 106]</span> + <p>Nearer and nearer butted the tug. "Stand by!" they heard the call from the forward + end of her. Looking up, they could see the shadow against the pilot-house light. + "By!" came the echo, and the man astern stepped on to her open quarter and balanced + himself to heave.</p> + <p>A note in that answering voice caught Bowen's ear. "Say, Nelson, that's not one of + the tug's regular crew!"</p> + <p>"I don't know. I don't t'ink, but he ban a foolish man," replied Nelson—"he + should lash himself."</p> + <p>"Stand by with the line!" came again.</p> + <p>"By!" echoed tensely from astern.</p> + <p>"Ready!"</p> + <p>"All ready!"</p> + <p>"When she lifts! Now—w—"</p> + <p>From the top of a sea the line came whistling down to the light-ship rail. "I'll + take it," called Bowen, and, loosing his hold of the stay, he reached out and caught + the flying line to his breast. "A good throw," he muttered, and hauled it in.</p> + <p>The hawser followed the heaving line, and Nelson and Bowen, with life-lines about + them, bent the stubborn end of it around the windlass. It was heavy work, even for + two men, on the tumbling, slippery deck, and, that done, they turned, anxiously, to + see how the man in the stern of the tug <a name="page107" id="page107"></a><span + class="pagenum">[pg 107]</span> was making out. He was there, back to, bending the + thick stubborn bight about the towing bitts with slow, heavy motions. They saw one + great sea break over him; and another: but when the seas were past there he was still + working away.</p> + <p>"Won't he never mak' him fast?" wailed Nelson.</p> + <p>"Give him time," snapped Bowen. "He's doing well. He's got to do it right. If his + end came loose, where would we be? Give him time."</p> + <p>Nelson looked significantly shoreward. "Time?"</p> + <p>"How's she coming, Bud?" they heard then.</p> + <p>"Bud? And that sounds like his voice, too," muttered Bowen.</p> + <p>"Wa-atch out!" Even with the roar of it Nelson and Bowen could hear the warning + from the pilot-house to the man in the stern of the tug. A tremendous sea it was and + the little <i>Whist</i> went over—over. Over until her side-lights were under. + There she held for a moment, started to rise, and then a following sea caught her and + overbore her and that time she rolled low enough to take salt water down her + funnel.</p> + <p>She came back—after a time. Up, up, nobly; but when they next looked from + the light-ship they could see no figure in her stern. Bowen leaned far over the + light-ship's rail. Nothing there, but he called to Nelson for the torch, and Nelson + let it flare out over the water.</p> + <a name="page108" id="page108"></a><span class="pagenum">[pg 108]</span> + <p>Then Bowen saw him. Almost under the bow of the light-ship he was, and the big + torch was throwing a light like blood on his face. "It is him!" cried Bowen.</p> + <p>"Vat iss?" demanded the puzzled Nelson, and then under the light he, too, saw the + face in the tossing waters.</p> + <p>Bowen, with a life-line under his arms was already over the side. But his plunge + fell short. Nelson heard a sound as of a man's voice smothering, saw a hand raised + and lowered, and then into the tossing blackness the lone figure was swept.</p> + <p>Nelson hauled Bowen aboard. When he recovered his first word was, "God, Nelson, + that was Harty!"</p> + <p>"Harty, wass it? I don't know him, but he was one goot man."</p> + <p>The big hawser strained and groaned, chocks and bitts crooned their song of + stress, the wind whistled its dirge, while out from the breakers the <i>Whist</i> + hauled her tow.</p> + <p>To the wheel of the tug Baldwin glanced ahead and behind, pointed her nose for the + breakwater, gave her four bells and the jingle, put his mouth to the tube, and + answered, "Yes, Pete, that's right—'twas Bud went. And now it's up to you, son. + Keep steam on her, and if the hawser holds and nothing else happens, she oughter + stagger home all right."</p> + <a name="page109" id="page109"></a><span class="pagenum">[pg 109]</span> + <p>Nothing more happened and the <i>Whist</i> staggered home. The morning light saw + her safe to the Navy Yard with the light-ship moored alongside.</p> + <p>Bowen stepped from the light-ship to the tug. Up in the pilot-house he found + Baldwin. The sailor was staring through a window, staring out to sea. Bowen + waited.</p> + <p>Baldwin turned inboard at last. "I s'pose you're wonderin' how we knew. Well, + 'twas Bud passed me the word, and more than that, 'twas Bud broke me out of as + promisin' a little game as ever a man sat into. Chips? Enough to fill my service cap + afore me, and not all white chips either. And he comes along and just the same as + yanks me up by the collar an' says, 'You got to go!' and I had to. And of course + where I go Pete goes."</p> + <p>"And a game thing, Baldwin."</p> + <p>"Game hell. It's our trade—Pete's and mine. But it wasn't Bud's. But he was + bound to go. And when he went under, when I woke up to it he was gone, I looked out. + The sea was still rolling up to the clouds. I sticks my head out the window to cool + it, and to myself I says: If there was only somebody else in this watch so I could + take five minutes off somewhere and lie down and cry. That's the way I felt about it. + Yes, sir, if it wasn't for you fellows behind and good old Pete below, <a + name="page110" id="page110"></a><span class="pagenum">[pg 110]</span> I believe I'd + let everything go. Yes, sir, government property or no, I believe I'd a let the old + <i>Whist</i> roll up on the beach and been glad to roll up with her. And Bud—" + Baldwin came suddenly to a full stop and stared out to sea. After a time he turned + and asked: "Did you see him when he went?"</p> + <p>"I did. And that time I grabbed for him and missed and he went by me, he + half-turned and looked at me, and I thought he said, 'I never meant it.' Just that I + heard, when the sea washed over him, and when he came up again he must've thought + that I didn't understand, and he waved one arm. It was like he was saying + 'Good-by!'—the way he did it. Yes, he was all right—Harty."</p> + <p>"You betcher he was all right. An' more than all right. As for that, it's a damn + poor specimen' that ain't all right when it comes to a show-down. I've known + Bud—I can't remember when I didn't know Bud Harty. And, Bowen, he was a better + man than you or me. Bud always let you see the worst of himself, but you had to guess + at the best of him. Bud, he sure could hate a man—but, son, he could like you a + lot better than ever he hated you."</p> + <p>The two men sat and looked out to sea in silence. At last Baldwin, with a heavy + sigh? stood up, and, <a name="page111" id="page111"></a><span class="pagenum">[pg + 111]</span> reaching into a locker, brought forth a bottle and two glasses. "I s'pose + we oughter try to forget it for awhile. This stuff here, it's against regulations + havin' it aboard, but lots of things against regulations never hurt anybody. It was + against regulations our takin' out the <i>Whist</i> last night. And when the + commandant's back from leave I reckon I'll get mine. For you"—he laid a + forefinger against the big rating badge on his coat sleeve—"that I've been + shipmates with for fifteen years—off and on—I reckon will be detached. + But I've been disrated before and we'll let that pass. But you an' me and Bud, we + ain't been the best of friends we used to be since—well, you know when, but + you're goin' to drink for him now the toast he wouldn't drink last night, but the + toast that if he was here I know he'd drink now, for it's a sure thing that when he + went into the breakers he didn't go out of hate. So you drink for Bud, and I'll drink + for myself. Here's to you and yours, Bowen, your wife and the baby that's + comin'—"</p> + <p>"And that baby—if it's a boy, Baldwin, I'll name after him."</p> + <p>"Will you? God, but he'll like that—Bud'll sure like that. And now, here you + go—</p> + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="line"> + "May the wind be always fair for you + </div> + <div class="line"> + Whatever the course you sail! + </div> + </div> + </div> + <a name="page112" id="page112"></a><span class="pagenum">[pg 112]</span> + <p>"An' you an' me and all of us we'll be like we used to be, an' Bud'll like it, I + know. An' now one to Bud himself. I know 'twill please him to see us doin' it. Here's + to Buddie, Bowen. Is it a go?"</p> + <p>"Let her run!"</p> + <p>"Run it is, and a gale behind her—Christmas to Bud!"</p> + <hr /> + <a name="page113" id="page113"></a><span class="pagenum">[pg 113]</span> + <h2>Captain Blaise</h2> + <p>Two years now since Mr. Villard had come home, and not a soul on the plantation + but believed that at last the new master had given up his mysterious voyages and was + home to stay. But one day I had business in Savannah, and while there, hearing that + the bark <i>Nereid</i> was in from the West African coast, I strolled down to the + river front; and presently I was approached and addressed by the master of the + <i>Nereid</i>, a seaman-like and rather shrewd-looking man who had a message for Mr. + Villard, he said—from the West Coast.</p> + <p>"I am charged to ask him to pass the word to Captain Blaise," said the + <i>Nereid's</i> master, "that an old friend of his lies low of fever into Momba. + Captain Blaise would know who. We were putting out of Momba lagoon and I was standing + by the rail, when a nigger came paddling up and whispered it. Like a breath of night + air it was. 'Tell Master Captain that Ubbo bring the word,' said the nigger, and like + another breath of wind he passed on. No more than that. A short, very stout, and very + black nigger. And I was to pass <a name="page116" id="page116"></a><span + class="pagenum">[pg 116]</span> the word to Mr. Villard, a gentleman of estate near + Savannah, Georgia, and if you, sir, will attend to that, my part's done."</p> + <p>After my dinner in town was through with, I rode hard; but it was late night by + the time I reached the manor-house. I found him sitting out under the moon, smoking a + cheroot as usual, and he continued to smoke immovably for some minutes after I had + delivered the message; but by and by he stood up and took to pacing the veranda, and + presently, after his fashion, to speak his thoughts aloud.</p> + <p>"A hundred thousand acres and a thousand slaves, good, bad, and + indifferent—surely a man does owe a little something to his manorial duties. At + least, so all my highly respectable and well-established neighbors tell me. What do + you say, Guy?"</p> + <p>"I never gave much thought to the matter, sir."</p> + <p>"No? Well, doubtless you will—some day. But d'y' remember Kingston Harbor, + where the black boys dive through the green waters for the silver sixpenny pieces, + and Kingston port, where the white roads and the white walls throw back the tropic + sun so that it seems twice as hot as it really is—Kingston, Guy—in + Jamaica, where the sun sets like a blood-orange salad in a purple dish? D'y' + remember, Guy, and the day we were lying <a name="page117" id="page117"></a><span + class="pagenum">[pg 117]</span> into Kingston in the <i>Bess</i> and the word came + that my uncle was dead? Aye, you do; but don't you remember how he used to rail + against me? To be sure—you were too young. And yet a good old uncle, who gave + me never a mild word in his life but left me his all at death."</p> + <p>"And why shouldn't he, sir?"</p> + <p>"Why not? Aye, that is so. Why not? And yet he could have left it to + anybody—to you, say."</p> + <p>"Why to me? Who am I?"</p> + <p>"What? Who are you?" He ceased his pacing. "That is so, Guy—who are you? You + with the strange, quick blood writ so plain in your countenance that + there—"</p> + <p>"Isn't it good blood, sir?"</p> + <p>"Aye, Guy, be sure it is good blood. But often have I thought how he would have + stormed if—" He gazed curiously at me.</p> + <p>"If—"</p> + <p>"Aye, if—but no matter." He resumed his nervous pacing back and forth, back + and forth, hands in pockets, head up, chin out, and face turned always toward the + river, past the moss-hung cypress trees to the yellow Savannah flowing swiftly + beyond. The salt tide-water made as far as Villard Landing, and when it was in full + flood, as now, it brought the smell of the sea strongly with it.</p> + <p>"No matter that now, Guy. A good old soul, <a name="page118" + id="page118"></a><span class="pagenum">[pg 118]</span> my uncle, d'y' see; but the + blood was everything to him. And he put it in the bond and I am bound by it: that + only the lawful issue, a son of the house, shall inherit. 'I'll have no strange + derelict child inherit my estate.' His own words. So this fair estate, lacking lawful + issue of my body or my old uncle's son—and he is dead—it goes out of the + family. Oh, a stormy, intolerant, but well-meaning old uncle, who would have none of + his property left to—Oh, but not that, Guy—no, no, lad." He laid a + restraining hand on my shoulder. "No, no, lad, you must not take that to yourself; + for you are, no fear, honest born."</p> + <p>"I've waited long for you to tell me even that. Won't you tell me more, sir?"</p> + <p>"Enough for now. But whatever my uncle thought or wished, here, Guy, is an estate + to your hand to enjoy. What d'y' say, eh, to the life of a Southern gentleman on his + plantation? A hundred thousand acres, a thousand slaves, a stable of the horses you + love so, upland and river bottom to hunt, dancing, riding, balls, the city in winter. + Is not that something better than the hard, uncertain sea, Guy?"</p> + <p>He had paused for my answer, but I made none. He was standing motionless, except + for the backward toss of his head and the deep inhalation, three or four times, of + the briny air from the flooding <a name="page119" id="page119"></a><span + class="pagenum">[pg 119]</span> river. There was disappointment in his voice when he + took up the talk again.</p> + <p>"Oh, Guy, between us two what a difference! I was born ashore, you at sea, and + yet</p> + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="line"> + "'It's you for the back of a charging barb, + </div> + <div class="line"> + And me for the deck of a heaving brig!'" + </div> + </div> + </div> + <p>In a lower voice he repeated the couplet, and was plainly vastly pleased with it. + "Faith, and I wonder is that my own, or something I read somewhere. Something of the + lilt of a Scotch strathspey to 't, shouldn't you say? You know more of such things. + What d'y' say—shall I claim that for my own, Guy?"</p> + <p>"You do, sir, and it's not Homer, nor Dante, nor Keats who will rise up to accuse + you of plagiarism."</p> + <p>"Bah! You would no more allow me the merit of a poetic vein than—"</p> + <p>"Poetry, sir?"</p> + <p>"Poetry—why not?" and suddenly bending sidewise and forward, he essayed to + obtain a fuller view of my face. And it is true that I was thinking of anything but + poetry.</p> + <p>His face darkened as he gazed. "A hundred estates and plantations were nothing to + me against—" he burst out passionately, but no further than that. He checked + himself and went inside, and with no good-night going.</p> + <a name="page120" id="page120"></a><span class="pagenum">[pg 120]</span> + <p>In the morning he was gone. I waited—one, two, three days, and then I went + also—to Savannah, where I saw the <i>Bess</i>, but so altered that it needed a + lifetime's intimacy to hail her in the stream. Her spars had been sent down and her + name was now the <i>Triton</i>, and to her bow and stern was clamped the false work + which left her with no more outward grace than any clumsy coaster; and by these signs + I knew that Mr. Villard of Villard Manor would once more disappear and that Captain + Blaise would soon again be sailing the <i>Dancing Bess</i> overseas.</p> + <p>Captain Blaise had not yet come aboard; but whatever ship he sailed the full run + of that ship was mine, and I went into his cabin to wait for him.</p> + <p>It was after dark when he came over the side. It was always after dark when he + boarded the <i>Bess</i> in home ports. His words were colder than his expression when + he addressed me. "And where are you bound?"</p> + <p>"I don't know yet, sir."</p> + <p>"And why not?"</p> + <p>"You have not yet told me, sir, where you are going."</p> + <p>"Suppose it should be the West Coast and the old trade?"</p> + <p>"I'm sorry, sir, but even so I go."</p> + <a name="page121" id="page121"></a><span class="pagenum">[pg 121]</span> + <p>"And leave all that good life you love so at the Manor?"</p> + <p>On his face was still the stern look. I could not stand it longer and I stepped + closer to him. "You have not turned against me, sir?"</p> + <p>He softened at once. "Guy, Guy, don't mind me. I meant well. I thought you might + prefer the shore to living on the sea."</p> + <p>"I do, sir, but when you are at sea it's at sea I'd rather be too, sir."</p> + <p>"Ah-h—" and when he looked at me like that it mattered not about his + law-breaking—he was the bravest, finest man that ever sailed the trades. "Guy, + my boy, if you'll have it so, why come along. And once more we'll cruise together; + but you won't judge your commander too harshly, will you, Guy?"</p> + <p>We took the ebb down the river. Our papers read for a West India trading voyage, + but we lingered not among the West Indies. Four weeks later we raised the Cape + Verdes, and an islet rose like a castle from out of the mists. Abreast of a pebbled + beach we came to anchor and waited.</p> + <a name="page122" id="page122"></a><span class="pagenum">[pg 122]</span> + <h3>II</h3> + <p>A boat scraped alongside, and the agent Rimmle came aboard. He came out to have a + chat for old time's sake; and yet not so old either, he corrected, and would Captain + Blaise come ashore and have a drink or two of good liquor? And Captain Blaise replied + that he carried as good liquor in his locker as ever graced any sideboard ashore. And + they dropped into the cabin, where I happened to be, and had a glass of wine and a + word or two, and another glass and a few more words; and at last Rimmle put the + question: Would Captain Blaise run one more draft?</p> + <p>Long ago, Captain Blaise promised me that there was to be no more slave-running, + and as he never lied to me, I wondered now why he paused and pondered as if debating + with himself. At last he looked up. "It doesn't pay any more, Rimmle."</p> + <p>"Well, in these days," observed Rimmle, "I don't blame you, with the bull-dogs of + men-o'-war making it so hot."</p> + <p>We all had to smile at that, and Rimmle, seeing that Captain Blaise was not to be + shamed into it, went on. "But suppose there was larger head-money than ever was paid + before, Captain? And if half the head-money and the crew's pay were laid down in + advance? For it is hard, as you have <a name="page123" id="page123"></a><span + class="pagenum">[pg 123]</span> often said, Captain, that anything should happen to + brave and willing men on such a cruise and they have neither profit nor safety of + it." It was the old talk all over again, the agent urging him once more to take to + slave-running, except that in other days Captain Blaise had displayed less + patience.</p> + <p>The wineglasses had already been filled too frequently for me, and, pleading + business, I had spread out a coast chart on the other end of the cabin table and was + studying it, this by way of removing myself from a conversation which I saw was not + to end with trading or slave-running.</p> + <p>This Rimmle was one of those who held Captain Blaise for a sort of idol. I had + seen dozens of the kind before. Great hours for them when they could sit in with the + famous Captain Blaise, and so now, with the agent bound to talk of the West Coast + trade, lawful and otherwise, Captain Blaise was making but slow headway.</p> + <p>I was thinking of stepping up on deck to stretch my legs, when the conversation + took a sudden shift. "Captain"—Rimmle put the question hesitatingly—"I + thought I had seen the last of you. May I ask what lured you back?"</p> + <p>Captain Blaise had decanted another bottle and was viewing the rich-colored + bubbles as he held the carafe up against the light. Such little things afforded him + keen pleasure. He set the carafe down—softly—only <a name="page124" + id="page124"></a><span class="pagenum">[pg 124]</span> to ask by way of reply: + "Rimmle, what is it always brings men back?"</p> + <p>Rimmle laid his head to one side and nodded shrewdly. "As far as my experience + goes, Captain, it is one of three things."</p> + <p>"And which of the three is my failing?" Captain Blaise was absently filling their + glasses.</p> + <p>"M-m—It cannot be money—you never cared for that. You who have made + fortunes and spent them as fast as you made them—no, it cannot be money. And + then your newly acquired property in the States—"</p> + <p>"<i>My</i> newly acquired—What of that?"</p> + <p>"Why, the rumor is out that you fell heir to a great estate in the States—on + the banks of the Mississippi or the Ohio, or some outlandish name of a river in the + States."</p> + <p>"Oh, a rumor! Go on."</p> + <p>"And as for the drink—it must be a great occasion, indeed, Captain, when you + take more than is good for a man. And so—"</p> + <p>"We can never take too much drink in good company, Rimmle. And so drink + up—here's health! And so you think it must be—" He smiled faintly at the + agent. "And yet who should know better than you that all the gold I ever gave for a + woman's favor would not suffice to keep the poorest of them in cambric + handkerchiefs."</p> + <a name="page125" id="page125"></a><span class="pagenum">[pg 125]</span> + <p>"As to that"—the agent pursed up his full moist lips—"it is true; the + kind who looked for money were never your kind. And yet that kind sometimes cost men + a hundred times more in the end."</p> + <p>Captain Blaise bent deferentially toward the agent. "You think that, + Rimmle—truly?"</p> + <p>Rimmle bowed wisely.</p> + <p>Captain Blaise continued to regard him in the most friendly way, and yet with an + air of doubt, as if debating how far to discuss matters of this kind with him. And + then, leaning yet further forward and speaking rapidly, energetically: "And agreeing + that it is so, who is it that ever regrets the price? D'y' think that I, even though + I be what I be, that I—Why, Rimmle, even you who live to amass + money"—Rimmle flushed—"even you have had your days when—To be sure + you have had." Rimmle beamed. "And so, Rimmle, you can believe possibly that Captain + Blaise may yet have his immortal hour, and cherish the hope none the less dearly in + his heart because his head, from out the experience of bitter years, tells him that + it can never be. And it may be that I go this time for neither money nor drink, nor + anything else in which traders ashore or aship commonly bargain. But, hah, + hah!"—he grinned suddenly, sardonically, at the agent. "Think of us, Rimmle, + sitting in the cabin <a name="page126" id="page126"></a><span class="pagenum">[pg + 126]</span> of a West Coast slaver and smuggler discoursing in this fashion—two + gallant gentlemen who trade in human misery."</p> + <p>Ten years since Captain Blaise had done any slave-running, and Rimmle, who knew + that, was slave-running still, and so he did not quite know how to take this + outburst.</p> + <p>Neither did I. Where Captain Blaise was sincere and where talking for effect I + could not have said; but surely he was moulding Rimmle like jelly; and now looking + out from under his eyebrow at Rimmle, but his lips curved in a smile, he selected a + cheroot and lit it, and lit another for Rimmle, who now smiled too. And cheroot + followed cheroot, and story story, and drink drink, and the agent gurgled with joy of + the intimacy. "What adventures you have had, Captain, and"—he blew a cloud to + the cabin roof—"what stories!"</p> + <p>"Adventures? Stories?" Captain Blaise shrugged his shoulders. "Well enough, + Rimmle, in their way. 'Tis true I can tell of blockades evaded and corvettes slipped, + of customs officers bedevilled, of tricks on slow-tacking junks, and of dancing with + creoles under the moon. But what is that? The heedless, unplanned adventuring of an + irresponsible American captain. Now you, if you cared to talk, Rimmle, you, I + warrant, could tell of big things, things which concern great people—of <a + name="page127" id="page127"></a><span class="pagenum">[pg 127]</span> admirals and + governors and what not; for you, it is well known, Rimmle, have your own bureau of + information."</p> + <p>Rimmle chuckled. "It is true"—and then he paused. Captain Blaise refilled + their glasses. In courtly imitation of the Captain, Rimmle raised his and they + drank.</p> + <p>Captain Blaise filled them up again. "Men like myself, Rimmle, are but pawns in + this trading game. It is the people on the inside, the Governor of Momba and + gentlemen like you, who direct the play."</p> + <p>Rimmle smacked his lips. "M-m—To be sure, the Governor of Momba—"</p> + <p>There was a half-hour of anecdotes of the Governor of Momba and his son before + Cunningham's name was even mentioned; and when the question of him was slipped, so + casually was it slipped that I, with senses astretch, did not realize that this must + be the sick man at Momba—not until the next question was put.</p> + <p>"But there must have been something else, Rimmle, between the Governor and + Cunningham?"</p> + <p>Now, had they been drinking ordinary wine or heavy ale, Rimmle might have held his + own. But this was a rare vintage, a delicate bouquet meant for a finer breed than + Rimmle. His tongue was still <a name="page128" id="page128"></a><span + class="pagenum">[pg 128]</span> limber but his wits were fled. He was vain to display + to the famous Captain Blaise his knowledge of secret affairs. "Yes, it is true, + Captain, there was more than showed on the surface there. And that insult to + Cunningham was no accident. No,"—he winked,—"not at all. He had insulted + and shot men before, but he never knew that Cunningham was a professional duellist + himself. None of us in Momba knew. Did you, Captain?"</p> + <p>"He was not." Captain Blaise banged his hand on the table. "He killed three men, + yes; but bad men, and killed them in fair combat."</p> + <p>"Hm-m. A man to let alone that; but nothing of that was known—not then. + However, he took the Governor's professional duellist out behind a row of palms one + sunny morning and shot him—a beautiful bit of work. It was the vastest + surprise—a shock. But a duel, lawful possibly in your country is not so in + ours, Captain, and—"</p> + <p>"And is his daughter with him?"</p> + <p>"When she is not at the Governor's house—yes."</p> + <p>"What! Why there?"</p> + <p>"I don't know, unless it is the only house in that country where a young lady of + her position—and then her beauty—"</p> + <p>"Under that old satrap's roof? But here, Rimmle, what is the Governor going to do + with Cunningham?"</p> + <a name="page129" id="page129"></a><span class="pagenum">[pg 129]</span> + <p>"Well, Captain, if it should happen that she will marry the Governor's son, why + Cunningham might be allowed—you know how, Captain, ho! ho!—surely, to + escape. Especially as nobody seems to mourn the man he shot. But when she seemed slow + to fall in with their wishes, and as Cunningham had converted all his property into + gold and diamonds and shipped them or hid them—though no search has unearthed + them—preparatory to shooting the Governor's friend, why they grew suspicious + and threatened to push matters. Cunningham was nominally under arrest always. And + then he fell sick. How sick? Hard to say. But should he die, or be + punished—imprisoned, say—for the duel, consider it. She is a beautiful + girl, true, but human, and in time in that lonesome country where white gentlemen of + social position are so scarce—! And, after all—the Governor of Momba's + son and—"</p> + <p>"Rimmle"—Captain Blaise had stood up to look through an air port—"it's + a fair wind for me. Shall I put you ashore?"</p> + <p>"Ashore? Why, yes, yes! Bless me, I've had quite a stay, haven't I? But if you + care to try again, Captain, my friend Hassan is into Momba. He will be aboard, no + fear. If you do business with him, Captain, why, draw on me, and it's money in my + pocket."</p> + <a name="page130" id="page130"></a><span class="pagenum">[pg 130]</span> + <p>"If I do business of that kind this cruise, Rimmle, I promise you I'll do it with + Hassan."</p> + <p>"Thank you, Captain. Speedy voyage to you, and don't forget Hassan. Good-by, sir, + to you."</p> + <p>Within the hour we sailed for Momba.</p> + <h3>III</h3> + <p>A squadron of corvettes and sloops o' war put their glasses on us lazily as we + neared Momba; but with our Dutch bow and stern, our stumpy spars, no self-respecting + war-ship was bothering the <i>Triton</i>. They let us pass without so much as a + hail.</p> + <p>Captain Blaise planned to cross Momba Bar that night, all the more surely to cross + because the watchers ashore, seeing us hang on and off in the late afternoon, would + probably report that we were waiting for morning. So we hauled her to in the dusk + where, were it light, we would have seen, under its three fathom of water, Momba Bar + lying white and smooth and quiet as a sanded deck as we passed on. With the wind + coming low and light from the land that was; but were it a high wind and from the + sea, there would be no going over that bar at night or any other time.</p> + <p>We slipped silently up the inside, the northerly passage, to the lagoon, and crept + up the lagoon just <a name="page131" id="page131"></a><span class="pagenum">[pg + 131]</span> as silently, but even as we were mooring the <i>Bess</i> in a nook at the + head of the lagoon, a tall Arab was alongside. With him Captain Blaise and I went + ashore in the ship's long-boat, and to avoid suspicion we took no arms. An hour of + camp-fires and shadows under the trees we wasted then with this sharp trader Hassan. + No printed calicoes, or brass rings, or looking-glasses for him, nor rum, he being a + true believer. Nothing of that; but of gold paid into hand, and plenty of it there + must be. And Captain Blaise, to allay suspicion, discussed matters hotly. Finally he + agreed to the Arab's terms, and Hassan salaamed, and out under the open sky we went + again.</p> + <p>"A proper villain, Guy, is that fellow. Did you ever see so wonderfully cunning a + smile? And in the morning I am to give him a draft on Rimmle! Sometimes I think there + must be something infantile about me, strangers do pick me up for such an innocent at + times. But in the morning, my shrewd Hassan—"</p> + <p>Naked feet padded beside us. "O Marster Carpt'n, Marster Carpt'n, suh—"</p> + <p>"You, Ubbo!"</p> + <p>"Yes, suh, Marster Carpt'n." It was a short, very stout, and very black negro who + stood at attention before Captain Blaise.</p> + <p>"Where's your master?"</p> + <a name="page132" id="page132"></a><span class="pagenum">[pg 132]</span> + <p>"Waitin', Carpt'n, suh. He sick, suh, but not so he die, he say, suh."</p> + <p>"And Miss Shiela?"</p> + <p>"Missy Shiela at de Governor's, suh. An' de missy know you come too, suh. I been + watchin', suh, for long time. I see de ship, suh, an' I know you come over de bar, + suh, to-night. An' I tell de marster, suh. An' marster waitin', an' Missy Shiela + waitin', Marster Carpt'n, to take um away—to take um home, suh. He very sick, + suh."</p> + <p>"After us, Ubbo."</p> + <p>We raced to where was the long-boat, screened under a bank. From her crew we took + four good men and followed Ubbo.</p> + <p>The roof of a low building loomed above the jungle growth. Ubbo uttered a warning + sound. We could hear the regular tread and presently a form showed around the corner + of the house. It was a negro in uniform with a musket held carelessly over his + shoulder.</p> + <p>Captain Blaise whispered to his men: "When he comes around again get him. No + noise. Choke him first." The four sailors leaped together when next he appeared. In + an instant almost it was done. They laid him on the ground, threw his musket into the + brush, and we entered the building.</p> + <p>On a cot beside an open window, with a reading-lamp at his head, lay a tall + man.</p> + <a name="page133" id="page133"></a><span class="pagenum">[pg 133]</span> + <p>"Still alive, Gad," called Captain Blaise cheerily.</p> + <p>"Still alive, Blaise, and I reckon you did a neat job on that nigger guard, for + all I heard was a little gurgling. Yes, still alive. Still alive, Blaise, thanks to + Shiela's discrimination in the selection of the Governor's nourishing cordials, and + thanks no less to my boy Ubbo's sleepless habits. But, old friend, you're none too + soon. And don't waste any time in getting Shiela. She is still at the Governor's. I + bade her stay there so they would not suspect. She has my sabre and duelling pistols + with her, by the way. And she'll bear a hand with them, if need be. But who is this? + Oh, this is Guy? I'm glad to know you, Guy."</p> + <p>A wreck of a tall, slender, handsome man, such a man he may have been in his prime + as was Captain Blaise, but older. A sporting, reckless sort he may have been, but a + man of manner and blood. Two of the crew bore him out, though one would have + sufficed. "Ubbo will show you where the strong-box is, Blaise," he called on being + borne off; and Ubbo led us through the thick jungle to where, under a rock over which + a little water-fall played, a massive iron chest was buried. It took two stout men of + the crew to handle it.</p> + <p>We saw Mr. Cunningham and the strong-box safely to the long-boat and then, with + Ubbo, took station behind a hedge which bordered the Governor's grounds. There was + much going on there—music <a name="page134" id="page134"></a><span + class="pagenum">[pg 134]</span> and people strolling on the lawn. Captain Blaise + pointed out the Governor to me, and his son, and bade me notice also fifteen or + twenty barefooted but armed and uniformed negroes clustered between two rows of palms + on the farther side of the lawn.</p> + <p>"We'll wait here, with the hedge to protect us," said Captain Blaise, and motioned + to Ubbo. "Tell Miss Shiela that all's ready."</p> + <p>The negro slipped away. A short minute or so and Captain Blaise, who had been + peering like a man on watch on a bad night, gripped me nervously. "Look, there she + is!"</p> + <p>I looked. Never again would I have to be told to look. She was framed in a low + window off the veranda. The Governor's son was now close behind her. Ubbo was + standing on the lawn over near the musicians. We crept nearer. Turning, as if + accidentally, she saw him and called to him. "How is your master, Ubbo, + to-night?"</p> + <p>"Marster tell me to say he more happy to-night, Missy."</p> + <p>"Told you to say, Ubbo?"</p> + <p>"Yes, Missy, marster tell me to say."</p> + <p>"That's the signal, that sentence," whispered Captain Blaise.</p> + <p>"That's good. You can go, Ubbo." She smiled and chatted with the Governor's son + then.</p> + <a name="page135" id="page135"></a><span class="pagenum">[pg 135]</span> + <p>"She can't have interpreted the message aright," I panted.</p> + <p>"Because she did not leap into the air? Trust her—she's Gadsden + Cunningham's, her own father's daughter."</p> + <p>In a few minutes she turned from the Governor's son to his father, from him to her + ladyship, and from her without haste to some less distinguished member, and then in + the most casual way in the world she strolled inside and from our sight.</p> + <p>Hardly a minute later the signal came: a firefly's flash five times together and + three times repeated from the darkened upper story.</p> + <p>Ubbo was with us when the signal came. "Marster Carpt'n," he whispered, and handed + him a sabre and a pair of duelling pistols. "Missy send um—an' dey loaded, both + um, suh."</p> + <p>Captain Blaise, taking the sabre and passing me the pistols, ordered Ubbo to show + the way.</p> + <p>We skirted the grounds and entered by a rear gate a garden where were all sorts of + low-growing trees and high-growing shrubs to screen us as we drew near the rear + veranda. I saw the white gown with the dark blue sash shining out from the shrubbery, + and then the white and blue drew back. I would have leaped out on the path to follow, + but a restraining hand was on my arm. "Wait, wait!" warned Captain Blaise.</p> + <p>It was the Governor and his son hurrying around <a name="page136" + id="page136"></a><span class="pagenum">[pg 136]</span> the corner of the veranda. "I + do not believe it," the Governor was saying. "I cannot credit it. That could not have + been his ship which was reported still off the bar at dark—a clumsy galliot of + a craft she was described; and besides, he would not dare, a whole squadron cruising + within an hour's sail."</p> + <p>"But he is gone, and we found the guard was overpowered. He does not even know how + it happened, and his ship is even now moored in the lagoon, and he himself was with + Hassan less than an hour ago. Hassan will say no more until he gets his advance money + in the morning. But if we move now, he is caught like a rat in a trap. Why not send + word to the squadron? The wind is from the sea again and increasing, and he cannot + now recross the bar. If we could get hold of Cunningham's nigger, he'll know + something. Perhaps we can make him tell. I've sent Charlotte to watch her." He ran to + the corner of the veranda. "O Ubbo! Where in the devil is he? O Ubbo! Only a few + minutes ago he was talking to her out front. Ubbo! O Ubbo!"</p> + <p>A mulatto girl came hurrying from within the house. "The American missy, I cannot + find her. She not in her room, suh."</p> + <p>"What!" The fat old potentate almost jumped into the air.</p> + <p>But the son kept his head. "Not in her room, <a name="page137" + id="page137"></a><span class="pagenum">[pg 137]</span> Charlotte? And Ubbo gone, too? + Had I not better make the guard ready, sir?"</p> + <p>"Yes, yes; have the guard fall in."</p> + <p>They rushed around the corner of the veranda and we leaped into the lighted path. + She, too, stepped out into the light. "Captain Blaise, oh, Captain Blaise, you don't + know what courage you give us."</p> + <p>"Miss Shiela, you don't know what joy you give us.</p> + <p>"Still the same—but—but who is this?" she cried out like a surprised + child. And then she seemed to know without being told, for "Oh-h, of course, this is + Guy," she said, and smiled as if she had an hour to smile in, and gave me both + hands.</p> + <p>"Come," said Captain Blaise abruptly. And down the rear path we hurried, and, + circling the garden, entered the hedged path to the lagoon bank. All went well until + we had to pass the walk which crossed our path from the front lawn. Here the light of + a row of hanging lanterns fell on us.</p> + <p>And they saw us, the Governor and his son and the assembled guards, and came + charging down across the lawn after us. But only two abreast could they come down the + path.</p> + <p>"The boat is now but a hundred yards away, Miss Shiela," said Captain Blaise. "Guy + will take you there. Go you, too, Ubbo." I took her hand <a name="page138" + id="page138"></a><span class="pagenum">[pg 138]</span> and we raced to the bank, + where I handed her to a place beside her father in the boat.</p> + <p>"And what are you going to do now?" she asked.</p> + <p>"I? Why, I must go back to help Captain Blaise."</p> + <p>"Oh, of course. But hurry back. And be careful, won't you?"</p> + <p>I ran up the path and was soon at his elbow. The column was crowding down the + path, and so soon after coming from the bright light, possibly they could not see + clearly when he swung. However it was, one groaned and slid down. He cut again and + the head of the column stopped dead. "What's wrong?" came a voice, the Governor's. + "What are you stopping for?"</p> + <p>"Won't you step this way and find out?" jeered Captain Blaise.</p> + <p>"What! only one man?"</p> + <p>The hedge lining the path was waist high, trimmed flat and wide, but I never + suspected what was coming until I saw the flash and felt the ting of the bullet on my + cheek. "Drop!" warned Captain Blaise, but I had no mind to drop. I held one of Mr. + Cunningham's duelling pistols ready for the next shot. I saw it and fired, to the + right of and just above the flash. I had half seen how he had rested his elbow on the + hedge and carried his head to one side when he fired that first shot. There was the + <a name="page139" id="page139"></a><span class="pagenum">[pg 139]</span> crash of a + body through the hedge. And then a silence.</p> + <p>"You got him, I think," said Captain Blaise.</p> + <p>I had been spun half around by the shock of something or other, and now I was once + more facing the path squarely, and a thought of those red and blue and gold uniforms + jammed in there gave me an idea. "Ready, men!" I called out. "Steady! Aim!—and + be sure you fire low." No more than that, when in the Governor's guard there was the + wildest scrambling and trampling to get to the rear.</p> + <p>And we left them falling rearward over each other and ran for the landing. The men + were waiting on their oars. We leaped in, and Captain Blaise took the tiller ropes. + "Give way!" he ordered.</p> + <p>Mr. Cunningham was lying on cushions in the bottom of the boat. I was still + laughing, and he rolled his head, I thought, to look at me.</p> + <p>"Where did that skunk get you, Guy?" asked Captain Blaise.</p> + <p>"Why, I didn't know that he got me at all."</p> + <p>"Feel on your cheek."</p> + <p>There was blood, not much, trickling down my right cheek.</p> + <p>"You'd better attend to it."</p> + <p>"Yes, sir."</p> + <p>Warm fingers met mine. It was her silk scarf <a name="page140" + id="page140"></a><span class="pagenum">[pg 140]</span> which she was pressing into my + hand. I thrust it in my left breast, then took my own handkerchief and held it to my + cheek.</p> + <p>I was chuckling to myself as I fancied the Governor's guards tumbling over each + other in their retreat, when Captain Blaise broke in on me. "Aren't you laughing + rather soon? You're not over your troubles yet."</p> + <p>"Troubles, sir? Troubles?" It was not at all like him, and his voice, too, was + unwontedly harsh. "Troubles?" I almost laughed aloud again. He did not + understand—I had only to lean forward to gaze into her eyes. I had only to + reach out to clasp her hand. Troubles? Well, possibly so, but I smiled to myself in + the dark.</p> + <h3>IV</h3> + <p>Ere we had fairly boarded the brig they were in chase of us. We could see lights + flitting along the lagoon bank and hear the hallooing of native runners—the + Governor's, we knew. And for every voice we heard and every light we saw, we knew + that hidden back of the trees were a dozen or a score whom we could not hear or see. + And on the black surface of the lagoon, paddling between us and the bank, as we + worked the ship out, were noiseless <a name="page141" id="page141"></a><span + class="pagenum">[pg 141]</span> men in canoes. We could not see them, but every few + minutes a mysterious cry carried across the silent water, and the cry, we knew, was + the word of our progress from the Governor's canoe-men to the messengers on the + bank.</p> + <p>The lagoon emptied on the south into the Momba River, which twisted and turned + like so many S's to the sea; on the north was the passage by which we had come, that + which led to the sea by way of the bar. But there was to be no crossing of the bar + for us that night. Ten miles inland we had smelled that sea-breeze and knew what it + meant; but Captain Blaise, nevertheless, held on with the <i>Bess</i> toward the bar. + We could hear their crews paddling off and shouting their messages of our progress + until they were forced by the breakers to go ashore. Their parting triumphant shouts + was their word of our sure intent to attempt the passage of the bar.</p> + <p>When all was quiet from their direction, we put back to the lagoon and headed for + the river passage. But one ship of any size had ventured this river passage in a + generation, and the planking of that one, the brig <i>Orion</i>, for years lay on the + bank by way of a warning. "But the <i>Orion</i> was no <i>Dancing Bess</i>," + commented Captain Blaise. Surely not, nor was her master a Captain Blaise.</p> + <p>The top spars of the <i>Bess</i> had been slung while we were ashore, and by this + time we had also <a name="page142" id="page142"></a><span class="pagenum">[pg + 142]</span> knocked away the ugly and hindering false work on bow and stern, so that + with her lifting foreyards which would have done for a sloop-of-war, and on her + driving fore and aft sails which could have served the mizzen of a two-thousand-ton + bark, the <i>Bess</i> was now herself again. And she had need to be for the work + before her.</p> + <p>Captain Blaise ordered her foresails brailed in to the mast to windward and her + foreyards braced flat, this that she might sail closer to the wind.</p> + <p>Entering the narrow passage, she was held to the edge of the low but steep bank to + windward; so close that where the low-lying reeds grew outward we could hear them + swishing against her sides as we passed on.</p> + <p>Miss Cunningham, having seen her father comfortably established with Ubbo in the + cabin, had come on deck, and Captain Blaise, busy though he was, took time to make + her welcome. No need for him to boast of his seamanship—the whole coast could + tell her that; but how often had a beautiful girl a chance to see the proof of + it?</p> + <p>We followed the curve of the river's bank almost as the running stream itself. + When we came to a sharp-jutting point, Captain Blaise himself, or me to the wheel, + would let her fall away until her jib-boom lay over the opposite bank; and then, her + sails well filled, it was shoot her up into the wind <a name="page143" + id="page143"></a><span class="pagenum">[pg 143]</span> and past the point before us. + Twenty times we had to weather a point of land in that fashion. Fill and shoot, fill + and shoot, never a foot too soon, never a foot too late—it was a beautiful + exhibition, and only a pity it was not light for her to see it better.</p> + <p>We were clear of the river at last; that is, we were in the river's V-shaped + mouth, the delta. The south bank extended westerly, two miles or so farther to the + sea, and the other bank north-westerly toward Momba Bar. Now we were able to get a + view of the coast line, and northward to beyond the bar it was an almost unbroken + line, we could see, of lights flaring from high points along the shore.</p> + <p>Captain Blaise hove her to until he should see a guiding rocket from the + men-of-war which he knew were waiting. And presently one came, a blue and gold from + due west, and another red and gold from the west-nor'-west, then a red and blue from + north-west by west. Presently there was another, from abreast of and close in to the + bar. And we knew there were more in waiting than had signalled. It was already a + solid line across the mouth of the river.</p> + <p>If those ships guarding the river's mouth were only anchored, our problem would + have been simplified; but they were constantly shifting, and as they showed no + sailing lights, no telling where, after a signal flashed, they would fetch next up; + and always, <a name="page144" id="page144"></a><span class="pagenum">[pg 144]</span> + showing no signal-light whatever, would be the others guarding what they would like + to have us mistake for an open passage in the dark.</p> + <p>Their sending up so many signals indicated a bewilderment as to our whereabouts. + By this time they must have known ashore that we were not anchored inside the bar; + and out to sea they must have known we had not foundered in the surf, and also by + this time they had probably discovered that we were not in the lagoon.</p> + <p>"They will puzzle it out soon. Get your floating mines ready," ordered Captain + Blaise. That was my work, and in anticipation of it I had knocked together two small + rafts loaded with explosives and a large one with explosives and combustible stuff to + burn brightly for half an hour or so.</p> + <p>"What does this mean?" Miss Cunningham was at Captain Blaise's elbow. She could + not have asked a question more pleasing to him.</p> + <p>"It means that we are like a rat in a hole with half a dozen big cats guarding the + exit. It is an acutely angled corner we are in, Miss Shiela, and a string of + corvettes and sloops-of-war stretched, no knowing just where, across the narrow way + out. So far they do not know we are here, but before long it is bound to occur to + some of them that this is the <i>Dancing Bess</i> and that she has made the Momba <a + name="page145" id="page145"></a><span class="pagenum">[pg 145]</span> River + passage—and then they will crowd in and pounce on us. That is, if we don't get + out before that."</p> + <p>"I see. I must go down and tell father. He's not worrying, but he wants to know + what's going on."</p> + <p>He let the brigantine now run offshore, parallel with the southern bank, almost to + the entrance. Then we doubled back on our course. As we came about he called, "Ready + with your mines, Guy?"</p> + <p>"Ready, sir!"</p> + <p>"Let go!"</p> + <p>At the word over went the big raft. We sailed on for a quarter mile or so. "Let + go!" Over went the second. A quarter mile farther and the third one went. Each mine + had its time-fuse. In a very few minutes—the <i>Bess</i> was in by the corner + of the delta again—the inshore mine exploded.</p> + <p>Following the noise and flame there was a quiet and a great darkness, and then + from the southerly guard-ship a rocket, while from the shore burst forth new lights. + If the surf had not been roaring, we knew that we could have heard those joyful yells + from the watchers up that way. Everybody on the coast knew that the <i>Bess</i> + carried two long-toms and no lack of ammunition for them. We could imagine their + chuckling over our explosion.</p> + <p>Then came the second explosion, and five minutes <a name="page146" + id="page146"></a><span class="pagenum">[pg 146]</span> later the third, and from her + a great flame which continued to burn.</p> + <p>"Captain Blaise, I don't understand. Why that fire-raft?" Miss Shiela had + reappeared on deck.</p> + <p>"Why? We are hoping that they will think that we are sailing out to sea in line of + the explosions, just the opposite from what we are doing. If they will but think that + that burning raft is our burning hold and that we are in distress, why—Look, + Miss Shiela!"</p> + <p>Two war-ships were now signalling to each other recklessly, and their signals gave + us a chance to reckon pretty nearly the course that they were steering. Both ships + were headed straight for the burning raft. As they came on they uncovered their + sailing lights, to prevent collision with each other, and watching these two ships' + lights we might have picked a way directly between them. But if they happened to have + another ship under cover in that apparently open water, we would be lost; and also, + in passing between, we would have blocked off the lights of each in turn to the other + and then they would have us.</p> + <p>Between the bar and the sailing lights of the inshore ship of the pair now bearing + down, we knew there was another ship. We had seen her signal early, and that ship, we + knew, would be held as <a name="page147" id="page147"></a><span class="pagenum">[pg + 147]</span> close to the line of surf as her draught and the nerve of her commander + would allow. Captain Blaise, reckoning where she should be, laid the <i>Bess's</i> + course for her. "She's used to having a little loose water on her deck—let her + have it again," he said, and at this time we had everything on her, and if I have not + made any talk of it before, I'll say it now—the <i>Bess</i> could sail.</p> + <p>We were now heading about a point off the edge of the outer line of heavy + breakers, and as the <i>Bess</i> had the least free-board of any ship of her size + sailing the trades, she was soon carrying on her deck her full allowance of loose + water. Amidships, when she lay quietly to anchor, a long-armed man could lean over + her rail and all but touch his fingers in the sea. Now, with the wind beam, over her + lee rail amidships the heavy seas mounted. On the high quarter-deck we had only to + hang onto the weather-rail, but the men stationed amidships had to watch sharp to + keep from being swept overboard.</p> + <p>She was long and lean. It was her depth, and not her beam, which had held the + <i>Bess</i> from capsizing in many a blow. Ten years Captain Blaise had had her, and + in those ten years, whether in sport or need, he had not spared her. She was long and + lean, and as loose forward as an old market basket.</p> + <a name="page148" id="page148"></a><span class="pagenum">[pg 148]</span> + <p>Loose and lean and low, she was wiggling like a black snake through the + white-topped seas. We had men in our foretop looking for the guard-ship, and because + they knew almost exactly where to look for her, we saw her in time and swung the + <i>Bess</i> inside her, yet closer to the breakers. Her big bulk piled toward us, her + great sails reached up in clouds—shadows of clouds. Past our bow, past our + waist, past our quarter. We could pick the painted ports and the protruding black + muzzles of her port battery as she passed, a huge shapeless shadow racing one way, + and we going the other way like some long, sinuous, black devil of a creature + streaking through a white-bedded darkness.</p> + <p>We were by before they were alive to it. A voice, another voice, a hundred voices, + and then we saw her green sidelight swing in a great arc; but long before then we + were away on the other tack, and so when her broadside belched (and there was metal + sufficient to blow us out of water), we were half a mile away and leaping like a + black hound to the westward.</p> + <p>A score of rockets followed the broadside. Captain Blaise glanced astern, then + ahead, aloft, and from there to the swinging hull beneath him. He started to hum a + tune, but broke it off, to recite:</p> + <div class="poem"> + <div class="line"> + "O the woe of wily Hassan + </div> + <div class="line"> + When they break the tragic news!" + </div> + </div> + <a name="page149" id="page149"></a><span class="pagenum">[pg 149]</span> + <p>And from that he turned to Miss Cunningham with a joyous, "And what d'y' think of + it all?"</p> + <p>She looked her answer, with her head held high and breathing deeply.</p> + <p>"And the <i>Dancing Bess</i>, isn't she a little jewel of a ship? Something to + love? Aye, she is. And you had no fear?"</p> + <p>"Fear!" Her laughter rang out. "When father went below, he said, 'Fear nothing. If + Captain Blaise gets caught, there's no help for it—it's fate.'"</p> + <p>And I knew he was satisfied. She had seen him on the quarter of his own ship and + he playing the game at which, the <i>Bess</i> under his <i>feet</i>, no living man + could beat him; and in playing it he had brought her father and herself to freedom. + It was for such moments he lived.</p> + <p>The night was fading. We could now see things close by. He took her hand and + patted it. "Go below, child, and sleep in peace. You're headed for home. Look at her + slipping through the white-topped seas, and when she lays down to her + work—there's nothing ever saw the African coast can overhaul us. No, nothing + that ever leaped the belted trades can hold her now, not the <i>Bess</i>—while + her gear's sound and she's all the wind she craves for."</p> + <p>"I believe you, Captain." She looked over the roaring side. Long and loose and + lean, she was <a name="page150" id="page150"></a><span class="pagenum">[pg + 150]</span> lengthening out like a quarter-horse, and he was singing, but with a + puzzling savageness of tone:</p> + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="line"> + "Roll, you hunted slaver + </div> + <div class="line"> + Roll your battened hatches down—" + </div> + </div> + </div> + <p>"Good-night, Captain." She turned to me. She was pale, but 'twas the pallor of + enduring bravery. There was no paling of her dark eyes. Even darker were they now. + "Good-night—" She hesitated. "Good-night, Guy."</p> + <p>"Good-night, Miss Shiela," and I handed her down the companion-way. At the foot of + the stairs she looked up and whispered, "You must take care of that wound, Guy." And + I answered, "No fear," and then her face seemed to melt away in a mist under the + cabin lamp.</p> + <p>Astern of us the dawn leaped up. It had been black night; in a moment, almost, it + was light again. I remembered what Captain Blaise had said of a sunset in Jamaica; + but here it was the other way about—a purple, round-rimmed dish, and from a + segment of it the blood-red salad of a sun upleaping. And pictured clouds rolling up + above the blood-red. And against the splashes of the sun the tall palm-trees. And in + the new light the signal flambeaux paling. And the white spray of the bar tossing + high, and across the spray the white-belted squadron tacking and filling + futilely.</p> + <a name="page151" id="page151"></a><span class="pagenum">[pg 151]</span> + <p>I grew cold and wondered what was wrong. I dimly saw Captain Blaise come running + to me. "Guy! Guy!" he called. I remember also myself saying, "Nothing wrong with me, + sir—and no harm if there is. It's sunrise on the Slave Coast and the <i>Dancing + Bess</i> she's homeward bound!"</p> + <h3>V</h3> + <p>The blue-belted Trades! Day and day, week and week, the little curly, white-headed + seas, the unspecked blue sky, and the ceaseless caress of the pursuing wind. No yard + nor sail, never a bowline, sheet, or halyard to be handled, and the <i>Bess</i> + bounding ever ahead. Beauty, peace, and a leaping log—could the sea bring + greater joy?</p> + <p>Captain Blaise had located the bullet—the second shot it must have + been—which had lodged under my right shoulder and cut it out. We were nearing + home, and the fever was now gone from me, but I was not yet able to take my part on + deck. "Perhaps to-morrow," she had said. And to-morrow was come, and I lay there + thinking, and at times trying to write.</p> + <p>She had left me alone for a while. Her father had called her to hear another of + the Captain's stories. Through the cabin skylight I could see her, <a name="page152" + id="page152"></a><span class="pagenum">[pg 152]</span> or at least the curve of her + chin, and her tanned throat and one shoulder pressing inward under the skylight + shutters. Her face was turned toward Captain Blaise, whose head and shoulders, he + pacing and turning on the quarter, came regularly within range. But she was not + forgetting me; every few minutes she thrust her head beneath the raised skylight + hatches and looked down to see that I wanted for nothing, and always she smiled.</p> + <p>I was propped up in an easy chair. Up to two days back I had been on a cot. Mr. + Cunningham had improved so rapidly that for more than a week now he had been allowed + on deck, and there he was now, as I said, listening with his daughter to the tales of + Captain Blaise. His laughter and her breaths of suspense, I could hear the one and + feel the other.</p> + <p>I took up my pad of paper and resumed my writing. And reviewing my writing, I had + to smile at myself, even as I used to smile at Captain Blaise when he would submit + his couplets or quatrains for my judgment. He might marshal off-hand a stanza or two + of his vagabond thoughts, but here was I carefully composing with pencil and paper, + and had been for a week now.</p> + <p>I had never been ill before, never for five minutes. And this illness had driven + me to a strange introspection. There had been time to think. I <a name="page153" + id="page153"></a><span class="pagenum">[pg 153]</span> smiled at Captain Blaise's + amateurish rhymings on the veranda of the manor-house. I had condemned him in my own + mind for this death or that death of his irregular career; on that last night on the + veranda I had even allowed him to read my thoughts of such matters. And now I could + not recollect of his having ever killed or maimed except in defence of his life or + property; and yet that night in Momba I had shot, caring not whether I killed or no. + Self-defence? At the instant of shooting I had thought, had almost spoken it aloud: + "There! There's for a channel to let the starlight into your unclean brain." + Self-defence? Tish! The Governor's son desired, possibly loved in his way, a girl + that I had known no longer than I knew him, and there it was—I loved her, too! + Captain Blaise himself had probably never killed on less provocation; and meditating + on his emotional side, on his many provocations, his life-long environment, I had to + concede that the Captain Blaise I condemned was a less guilty man than I.</p> + <p>This, as I was beginning to see, was but an argument with myself for a final + dismissal of my old life. Surely I should be ashamed to admit that in such fashion + was my brain trying to fool my soul; but so it was. Remorse? I should have been worn + with remorse, I know; but I was not. I tried to grieve for my hasty judgment of + Captain Blaise: <a name="page154" id="page154"></a><span class="pagenum">[pg + 154]</span> and I did. But for the Governor's son, not a qualm. I, too, like Captain + Blaise, had become the creature of hereditary instincts and overpowering emotion. + Never in all my life before had I thought that any sin or shortcoming of mine was + ever to be anybody's business but my own. My salvation lay in the future, which, now + that my conscience was awakened, I would have only myself to censure if it did not + become what I wished.</p> + <p>But these serious thoughts were of previous days. This morning I was to have some + little composition ready for her when she came down. I turned to my paper and pencil + and began to write. But thoughts, such thoughts as I conceived would please her, came + slowly. My new conscience or it may have been the voices of the + quarter-deck,—her father's questions, Captain Blaise's muffled answers, her + exclamations of delight and wonder,—all these diverted me. In despair I tried + to catch, as I usually could, what Captain Blaise was saying, but to-day he spoke in + so low a tone that I could not quite.</p> + <p>Ubbo came down for a chart, a particular chart which Captain Blaise has always + kept apart from the others. I pointed out to him where he would find it. And my eye + followed his figure up the cabin steps. In a sailor's costume Ubbo was proud but + perspiring, though devotion shone out in every drop of perspiration.</p> + <a name="page155" id="page155"></a><span class="pagenum">[pg 155]</span> + <div class="figcenter"> + <a name="image5" id="image5"></a> <a href="images/image5_full.jpg"><img + src="images/image5_thumbnail.png" + alt="After a long look I saw that he did not resume his narrative. By that I knew that the stranger was troubling him." /> + </a> + <p>After a long look I saw that he did not resume his narrative. By that I knew + that the stranger was troubling him.</p> + </div> + <p>Through the skylight I saw Captain Blaise take the chart from Ubbo, unroll and + scan it. "I was right. Yes, here's the spot." He was addressing Shiela. "In red ink, + see, and here's about where we are now—not ten miles from here, north by + east."</p> + <p>Shiela was bending over the chart when "Sail-ho!" rang out from the lookout in the + foretop. He had a grand voice, that man on watch.</p> + <p>With one hand Captain Blaise held the chart so Shiela still could read it; with + the other he reached through the skylight opening for his long glass. After a long + look I saw that he did not resume his narrative. By that I knew that the stranger was + troubling him.</p> + <p>Shiela came below to see me. The traces of tears were in her eyes.</p> + <p>"It's a large ship to the northward," she said. "From something Captain Blaise + whispered to father it may be a man-o'-war, though I hope not. But what have you done + since I've been gone? You mustn't feel put out when I have to go on deck. It's an + ungrateful girl, you know, who is not courteous to her host, especially when that + host is Captain Blaise. Think what father and I owe him! And what a wonderfully + interesting man he is! And what adventures he has had!"</p> + <p>"But what made you cry?"</p> + <a name="page156" id="page156"></a><span class="pagenum">[pg 156]</span> + <p>"Captain Blaise was telling of a happening on this very spot almost. It was a ship + from Cadiz for Savannah. She had taken fire. He picked up among others three people + lashed to some pieces of wreckage—a man, a woman, and their baby. She was dead + and he dying. He did die later aboard his ship, the predecessor of the <i>Bess</i>. + The baby lived. Do you recall the story?"</p> + <p>"No, he never told me that one. And the baby?"</p> + <p>"The father had practically supported the baby in the water for four + days—the baby was less than a year old—and the mother had nursed him till + she died. For two days, the man said, with nothing to eat herself. She and he, they + had practically killed themselves for the baby boy. She was a Spanish woman—a + lady. The father died aboard Captain Blaise's ship. He was an American who had + married abroad without consulting his father, and the old gentleman made such a fuss + about it that the young man had stayed away—intended to remain away and + renounce his heritage; but at last the father had sent for him, and he was then on + his way home. But you should have heard Captain Blaise tell it. He made us feel that + mother's love for her baby, that mother who was dead before he picked her up, and + made us feel, too, what a man the father was. What an actor he is! I tried not <a + name="page157" id="page157"></a><span class="pagenum">[pg 157]</span> to cry, but I + did. But let me see—what have you there?"</p> + <p>I showed her some things. She picked up the nearest and read it aloud:</p> + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="line"> + "I was walking down the glen— + </div> + <div class="line"> + O my heart!—on a summer's day. + </div> + <div class="line"> + He passed me by, my gentleman— + </div> + <div class="line"> + Would I had never seen the day! + </div> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="line"> + "True love can neither hate nor scorn, + </div> + <div class="line"> + And ne'er will true love pass away. + </div> + <div class="line"> + And his hair was silk as tasselled corn, + </div> + <div class="line"> + My heart alack—that summer's day! + </div> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="line"> + "Oh, he wore plumes in his broad hat + </div> + <div class="line"> + And jewelled buckles on his shoon, + </div> + <div class="line"> + And O, the sparkle in his eye! + </div> + <div class="line"> + And yet his love could die so soon!" + </div> + </div> + </div> + <p>"H-m. Suggests satin breeches and hair-powder, men who could navigate a ball-room + floor more safely than the Trades, doesn't it? Wherever did you get such + notions?"</p> + <p>I showed her a volume, one of Captain Blaise's, an anthology of the Elizabethan + and Restoration poets. "I was trying to write like one of 'em," I explained. "And I + thought it was pretty good."</p> + <p>"I don't—a poor girl believing that Heaven made her kind for the high + people's pleasure. No, I don't like that. And 'hair as silk as tasselled corn!' Do + you like tasselled corn hair?"</p> + <a name="page158" id="page158"></a><span class="pagenum">[pg 158]</span> + <p>"Why, no—in a man. But my own being black—"</p> + <p>"Hush! Black's best. No, you're not intended for that kind of writing."</p> + <p>"But here—listen:</p> + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="line"> + "'True love can neither hate nor scorn, + </div> + <div class="line"> + And ne'er will true love pass away.' + </div> + </div> + </div> + <p>"Don't you like that?"</p> + <p>"Something like it's been said so often. Why don't you put it in your own words?" + She took up another sheet. "What's this about?"</p> + <p>"That's about a day and night at sea—a fine day in the Trades, such a day as + to-day—and last night."</p> + <p>"It <i>was</i> a beautiful moon last night, wasn't it?" And she read to herself. + Coming to the last stanza, she read aloud, unconsciously I think:</p> + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="line"> + "The stars gleamed out of a purple light, + </div> + <div class="line"> + The moon trembled wide on the sea; + </div> + <div class="line"> + The Western Ocean smiled that night— + </div> + <div class="line"> + Sweetheart, 'twas a dream of thee!" + </div> + </div> + </div> + <p>She paused. "But the ocean doesn't smile." "But it does. Smiles and frowns, and + roars and coos, and coaxes and threatens, and strikes and caresses, and leaps and + rolls—and so many other things. I've seen it. And Captain Blaise will tell you + the same."</p> + <a name="page159" id="page159"></a><span class="pagenum">[pg 159]</span> + <p>She looked strangely at me. In the deep sea I had seen, at times, that deep dark + blue of her eyes—ultramarine, they call it; but hers softer. I almost told her + so, but I was afraid.</p> + <p>She looked away and repeated softly:</p> + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="line"> + "'The Western Ocean smiled that night—Sweetheart, + </div> + <div class="line"> + 'twas a dream of thee!'" + </div> + </div> + </div> + <p>It's pretty, but more like what men who cruise for pleasure would write. You're a + sailor—have taken a sailor's chances. Why don't you write like a sailor? It is + a sad sea, a terrible sea, despite all your beautiful blue Trades. Why don't you + write of the tragic sea?"</p> + <p>"I knew that some time you would say something like that. I've seen it in your + eyes before."</p> + <p>"You have?"</p> + <p>"Why, many times. And so, here." And from between the pages of Captain Blaise's + book of verse I drew another sheet. At that time I would have been ashamed to let + anybody else see these things, but I did not mind her. "Here," I said, "is one I + felt. One night in the Caribbean we were caught in a tornado, and we + thought—Captain Blaise said afterward he thought so too—that we had stood + our last watch. And at the height of it—we could do nothing but stand + by—one of the crew, a young fellow—I was only sixteen years old myself + then—said <a name="page160" id="page160"></a><span class="pagenum">[pg + 160]</span> to me, 'Oh, Master Guy, what will she say when she hears?' He meant his + young wife. He'd been married just before we put out, and she'd come down to the ship + to see him off. So listen:</p> + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="line"> + "'The spray, most-like, was in my eyes, + </div> + <div class="line"> + He waved his hand to me— + </div> + <div class="line"> + The wind it blew a gale that day + </div> + <div class="line"> + When he sailed out to sea.'" + </div> + </div> + </div> + <p>"Ah-h!" She leaned closer.</p> + <p>"It <i>was</i> a gale the day we put out. We had to get out—in Charleston + Harbor it was—and they were hot after us—gale or no gale, Captain Blaise + put out. I'm trying to imagine what she would think when she heard.</p> + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="line"> + "'And now no spray is in my eyes, + </div> + <div class="line"> + No hand is waved to me— + </div> + <div class="line"> + But all the gales of time shall blow + </div> + <div class="line"> + Ere he comes back from sea!'" + </div> + </div> + </div> + <p>"And she a bride! Oh-h, the poor girl!" She had leaned over my shoulder to read it + for herself, and her breath was on my cheek.</p> + <p>"That is why, if I had—a wife, I should dread the sea."</p> + <p>"And that is why a woman—But how long have you been writing poetry?"</p> + <p>"Poetry? Or rhyme? Never before the day I saw you."</p> + <a name="page161" id="page161"></a><span class="pagenum">[pg 161]</span> + <p>"But when did such ideas before take hold of you?"</p> + <p>"The other night I was lying here looking up, and after a time the moon shone + through onto my cot, and you crossed its path—you had given me my night cup and + I had pretended to be asleep; and I thought of you looking out on the moonlit sea and + I got to wondering what you were thinking of. And I remembered a thousand such + moonlit nights when you were not there. And I thought what a difference it would have + made had you been there, and so when I say</p> + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="line"> + "'The Western Ocean smiled that night— + </div> + <div class="line"> + Sweetheart, 'twas a dream of thee!' + </div> + </div> + </div> + <p>"you must not smile. I meant it; for if the ocean smiles and whispers and makes men + dream of—"</p> + <p>"Oh-h!" her head had settled and now her cheek was against mine. "Go on," she said + softly.</p> + <p>"It made me dream of her that was never more than a dream-woman until I saw you. + No longer a dream—not after you stepped out onto the veranda of the Governor's + house that night in Momba. I knew it again when, looking out from the shrubbery in + the garden, you looked at me and said, 'And who is this?' And I knew it when with you + in the long-boat, when I wanted to reach out and take your hand—"</p> + <a name="page162" id="page162"></a><span class="pagenum">[pg 162]</span> + <p>"And why didn't you? I knew you were weak from your wound, and it would have been + a charity in me to cheer you up."</p> + <p>"Divine charity—but I was not weak—not from any wound. I had not the + courage. A sailor may shape his course by a star, but that does not mean that he ever + thinks of reaching up and trying to grasp it."</p> + <p>"And you've heard the sea whisper, too, Guy?"</p> + <p>"Many a time. In the night mostly—in the mid-watch, when it's quietest. I've + leant over the rail and heard it whisper up to me. People laugh at that, but they + know nothing of the sea. And the day, or the night, comes to some men, when she + whispers up to him and beckons with her wide arms and on her deep bosom offers to + pillow him, and weary of the wrong-doing, mostly it's wrong-doing, or despair, when + men hear it—weary, weary to death, they are glad to—"</p> + <p>"No, no—no, Guy—you must never go like that!"</p> + <p>"But when a man's alone?"</p> + <p>She rested her chin on my shoulder, she reached a hand down to mine. "You will not + be alone, dear—never, never again."</p> + <p>A voice from above recalled me. "Guy! O Guy! If you can make shift to come on + deck, you <a name="page163" id="page163"></a><span class="pagenum">[pg 163]</span> + would do well. We are in close quarters and like to be yet closer."</p> + <p>I looked up, not in full time, but in time to catch a glint of his eyes. Pain in + his voice, suffering in his eyes—never till that moment did it come to me that + this whole cruise had been but a wooing of Shiela Cunningham. And I, who owed him + everything in life, I had stood in his way. And even with Shiela there my heart ached + for him.</p> + <h3>VI</h3> + <p>When I made the deck I saw that off each beam was an American frigate, and ahead + was the land—the coast of Georgia.</p> + <p>No doubt of what they were after. The <i>Bess</i> was a much-desired prize, and + known as far as a long glass could shape her lines or pick her rig. "But there is yet + time, sir," I suggested, "to put about, run between them, and escape to the open + sea."</p> + <p>"There <i>is</i> time," he answered curtly. He had not looked fairly at me since I + came on deck. "But I am going to land our passengers, and without risk of their + capture."</p> + <p>I thought that he had in mind to hold up for the mouth of the Savannah River, and + run on up the <a name="page164" id="page164"></a><span class="pagenum">[pg + 164]</span> river to the city. He could do that, though it would mean the final + abandonment of the brigantine and, most likely, the identification of Captain Blaise + with Mr. Villard of Villard Manor.</p> + <p>Though these were two fast-sailing frigates, we were outrunning them, not rapidly, + but sufficiently to make it certain, while yet we were a mile offshore, that we would + easily make the river entrance, if such was his intention. But evidently not so, for + he now ordered the gig ready for lowering and had Mr. Cunningham's strong-box brought + on deck.</p> + <p>"Shall I also take that package you spoke of?" asked Mr. Cunningham.</p> + <p>"Surely. It is ready in my room." And he went below and came up with it, a great + beribboned and bewaxed envelope, saying, "Deliver it when the time comes, Gad. Or + wait, let Miss Shiela do it," and handed it to her instead.</p> + <p>She blushed vividly and placed it in her portmanteau. "Thank you, sir," she + said.</p> + <p>I had difficulty in keeping my eyes off her, even though I was again acting as + first officer of the <i>Bess</i>, and my first duty just now was to keep an eye on + the two ships and render judgment as to their intentions.</p> + <p>"That fellow to the south seems to have decided to bid up for the Savannah River + entrance on the next tack, sir," I reported.</p> + <a name="page165" id="page165"></a><span class="pagenum">[pg 165]</span> + <p>"Yes." He was busy with the Cunninghams and spoke absently, though it was also + likely that he saw better than I did what the man-o'-war would be at. "That's good. + Let him stretch that tack all he pleases."</p> + <p>"Then we are not to stand in yet, sir?"</p> + <p>"Not yet, not till the northerly fellow comes into stays. We'll tack then, but not + for the river."</p> + <p>The frigate to the north came into the wind, and as she did we wore ship and stood + up; not a great divergence from our old course, but enough to make them think we + might yet come about and try for the open sea. The ship to the south of us took + notice then and came into the wind, and while they were hanging there we eased off + and headed straight for the white beach to the north of the river.</p> + <p>Both ships, after the loss of some minutes in irons, once more filled their sails + and made straight for our wake. Now they seemed to say, "Another half-mile on that + leg and you won't make either the river or the open water."</p> + <p>As we neared the white shore an inlet opened up before us. "There's something, + Gad, no chart will show you," observed Captain Blaise. "There's a channel, carved + round an island since the last government chart was plotted. They're doing some + puzzling aboard those war-dogs now, I'll warrant. They're thinking we're going to + beach and abandon her, I'll wager."</p> + <a name="page166" id="page166"></a><span class="pagenum">[pg 166]</span> + <p>The <i>Bess</i> held straight on. It was an inlet which went on for half a mile or + so before turning obliquely to the north. It was wide and deep enough for + us—plenty; but a frigate's tonnage would have her troubles, if she tried to + follow.</p> + <p>We weathered the first bend. Before us was another bend. I remembered now that + years before, when I was a little fellow, I had come in and out of this very place. I + began to recollect dimly that after a while it came to the open sea again some miles + to the north.</p> + <p>We were almost to the other entrance when he ordered the <i>Bess</i> hove-to and + the gig lowered. Into it went the strong-box and the Cunninghams and Ubbo. "And you, + too, Guy." He was looking at me queerly. "Mr. Cunningham is still weak. And Shiela, + brave as she is, is only a woman—a girl. Will you see that they are landed + safely? That is the main shore. See that their luggage is carried up to the top of + that hill. In the creek beyond that hill is an old darky who will take them in his + little sharpie by way of a back river to Savannah."</p> + <p>And so I was to have a few more minutes with her. At the gangway he took my hand + and held it while he said, "You're weak yet—don't hurry. Those two frigates + won't follow us in here." I remember wondering why only Ubbo was in the boat besides + ourselves; but I was too excited at the thought of so soon landing her to think + logically. <a name="page167" id="page167"></a><span class="pagenum">[pg 167]</span> + As I was about to step into the gig he whispered, "Take good care of her, won't you, + Guy?"</p> + <p>"Why, of course, sir."</p> + <p>"That's the boy." He pressed my hand.</p> + <p>We shoved off, Ubbo rowing. In two minutes we were on the beach. I was still too + weak to be of much help to Ubbo with the strong-box, and so it took us some time to + get it to the top of the hill. We covered it with sand and brush to guard against a + possible landing party from the frigates. Shiela's idea that was, and it delayed us + another few minutes.</p> + <p>I turned to go. Shiela, she was nervous too, but smiling. "Shiela—"</p> + <p>"You're not going back to the ship?"</p> + <p>"But I must—I must."</p> + <p>"No, you're not—and you must not. Here." She had taken the bewaxed and + beribboned package from her little handbag. It was addressed to "Guy Villard, Esq., + Villard Manor, Chatham County, Ga."</p> + <p>"But who is he?"</p> + <p>"Who is he? Who are you?"</p> + <p>"Guy Blaise."</p> + <p>"No, you're not. Open it and read. Or wait, let me read it."</p> + <p>And it is true that not till then did I suspect. I thought that I might have been + his son, or the son <a name="page168" id="page168"></a><span class="pagenum">[pg + 168]</span> of some wild friend, born of a marriage on the West Coast or other + foreign parts. But of this thing I never had a suspicion.</p> + <p>I was the baby boy picked up in the wreckage of the burning ship. There were the + marriage certificates of my father and mother, and the title deeds to the Villard + estate. It had been a great temptation—he the next of kin, my father's cousin, + and no one knowing. And he, too, feared the strange blood. But watching my growth, he + had come to love me, and wanted me to love him, and feared my contempt if I should + learn. All this was explained in a letter in a small envelope, written recently and + hastily. Together, Shiela and I, we finished the reading of it:</p> + <blockquote> + <p>Though I'm not so sure now that you shouldn't thank me for withholding your + inheritance until the quality of your manhood was assured. It is true that I + imperilled your mortal body a score of times, but through fifty-score weeks I + nurtured your immortal soul, Guy.</p> + <p>And now I am going back to that sea wherein I expect to find rest at the last, + and let my friends make no mourning over it, Guy. 'Tis a beautiful clean grave, no + mould nor crawling worms there. But if it be that the sea will have none of me, and + the metalled war-dogs drive me, and spar-shattered and hull-battered I make a run + of it to harbor in my old age, I shall come in full confidence of a mooring under + your roof, Guy. And who knows that I won't be worth my salt there?</p> + <p>You have won her, Guy. I knew you would from that night in Momba when you sat in + the stern sheets and laughed. 'Twas in your laugh that night, though you did <a + name="page169" id="page169"></a><span class="pagenum">[pg 169]</span> not suspect + it. But I know. The tides of youth were surging in you. Beauty, wit, and + courage—with these in any man I will measure sword; but the tides of youth + are of eternal power.</p> + <p>I should like to dance your children on my knee, Guy, and lull the songs of the + sea into their little ears. I've a fine collection by now, Guy—you've no + idea—ringing chanties to get a ship under way, and roaring staves of the High + Barbaree, ballads of the gale, and lullabies of west winds and summer nights. And + your children, Guy, will grow up none the less brave gentlemen and fine ladies for + the strengthening salt of the sea in their blood and the clearing whiff of the gale + in their brains. So a fair, fair Trade to you and Shiela—the fair warm Trades + which kiss even as they bear us on—and do not forget the tides of youth are + flooding for you. Take them and let them bear you on to happiness and wisdom.</p> + </blockquote> + <p>I felt weak and dizzy, but I rose to my feet and started down the hill. Shiela + caught me and held me. "Look!" She was pointing out to sea.</p> + <div class="figcenter"> + <a name="image6" id="image6"></a> <a href="images/image6_full.jpg"><img + src="images/image6_thumbnail.png" + alt="There she was, the <i>Dancing Bess</i>, holding a taut bowline to the eastward. And there were the two frigates, but they might as well have been chasing a star" /> + </a> + <p>There she was, the <i>Dancing Bess</i>, holding a taut bowline to the eastward. + And there were the two frigates, but they might as well have been chasing a + star.</p> + </div> + <p>There she was, the <i>Dancing Bess</i>, holding a taut bowline to the eastward. + And there were the two frigates, but they might as well have been chasing a star.</p> + <p>"Look!" She handed me the glasses. I looked and saw her ensign dipping. I took off + my hat and waved it, hoping that with his long glass he could see. He must have seen, + for the ensign dipped three times again, and from the long-tom in her waist shot out + a puff of smoke. We waited for the sound of it. It came.</p> + <p>Farewell that meant. I watched her till her great <a name="page170" + id="page170"></a><span class="pagenum">[pg 170]</span> foresail was no larger than a + toy ship's. Then I sat down and cried, and had no care that the negro slave and + servant, Ubbo, saw me.</p> + <p>Mr. Cunningham came and sat beside me. "Guy," he said, "don't worry about him. + He'll come through all right. He has great qualities in him."</p> + <p>"He's good, too—too good to me."</p> + <p>"Great and good," exclaimed Shiela. "He could love and was lovable. And what's all + your greatness to that?"</p> + <p>It may be that she who knew him least understood him best. She was crying too.</p> + <p>When her great square foresails were no more than a gull's wing on the hazy + horizon we waved her a last salute. Then we made our way to the creek and sailed up + Back River, past Savannah, and on to Villard Landing. And hand in hand Shiela and I + walked up between the row of moss-hung cypress trees to the manor-house + and—Home.</p> + <hr /> + <a name="page171" id="page171"></a><span class="pagenum">[pg 171]</span> + <h2>Don Quixote Kieran, Pump-Man</h2> + <p>He came into the outer office of the great oil company, and through the half-open + door of his private office the new superintendent observed the stimulating style of + his entrance. Looking for work, no doubt of that, but not looking like a man who was + apologizing for it; and that in itself was a joy to the new official.</p> + <p>No hesitating—"Please, sir, who is the gentleman,"—no timid waiting on + any languid understrapper's pleasure for this one. A short pause; his dark eyes swept + the room from wall to wall; his black head bent respectfully and not without + appreciation toward the pretty stenographer; and then, before the leisurely office + boy thought it time to rise and ask what he wanted, he was at the rail-gate. And when + the gate did not at once swing open, he stepped lightly over it; and singling out + from all the furtively smiling males the head clerk, he charged straight across the + floor toward that important person's desk.</p> + <p>And the head clerk, who was also the head wit, took a peek at him coming, and very + politely said, <a name="page174" id="page174"></a><span class="pagenum">[pg + 174]</span> "Pray be seated?" And, also very politely, "From whence came you and what + willst thou?"</p> + <p>The chuckling heads bobbed above the rows of desks. The head clerk himself had to + gaze window-ward to smother his smile.</p> + <p>"Gramercy, kind sir—"</p> + <p>"Gramercy? Eh, what? Gramercy?"</p> + <p>"Gramercy Park—you know where Gramercy Park is? Or didn't you ask me where I + came from?"</p> + <p>"Oh-h-Oh-h, yes."</p> + <p>"Of course, and I'm after a berth as pump-man on your oil ship sailing to-day for + the Gulf."</p> + <p>"And what, may I ask, do you know of our class of ships?"</p> + <p>"Only what I've heard—most modern oil-tankers afloat, and I'd like to try + one out—and sail the Gulf again, if you'll give me the chance."</p> + <p>"M-m—what are your qualifications?"</p> + <p>"Qualifications? For pump-man on an oil-tanker?"</p> + <p>"Pump-man—yes. And on an oil-tanker. I'm not hiring a rough rider, or a + policeman, or an aeroplanist—just a pump-man."</p> + <p>Through his open door the new superintendent caught the wink which his head clerk + directed at the second clerk. And caught it so easily that the thought came to him + that to share in the humor of <a name="page175" id="page175"></a><span + class="pagenum">[pg 175]</span> the head clerk may have been one of the recreations + of his predecessor.</p> + <p>"What has been your experience with marine machinery? What were your last three or + four places?"</p> + <p>"My last three or four? Well, one was being second-assistant engineer on a + government collier from the Philippines with a denaturalized skipper, and for purser + a slick up-state New Yorker; and both of 'em at the old game—grafting off the + grub allowance. And that's bad."</p> + <p>"Eh—what's bad?"</p> + <p>"Grafting off the grub. Men quit a ship for poor grub quicker than they do for + poor pay. For a week after we hit San Francisco I didn't get any further away from + the dining-room of the nearest hotel—well, than"—he turned + suddenly—"than that fellow there is from here—that fat, knock-kneed chap + there who seems to have so much to say about me." The second clerk, who was also the + second head wit, yelped like a suddenly squelched concertina and was quiet.</p> + <p>The new-comer, after a grave study of the knock-kneed one's person, resumed his + narrative. "Then oiler on a cattle steamer. Ever been on a cattleman?"</p> + <p>"Huh!" The head clerk was scowling tremendously.</p> + <p>"No? You ought to try one sometime. Some <a name="page176" id="page176"></a><span + class="pagenum">[pg 176]</span> are all right, but some are"—he looked sidewise + at the stenographer—"well, no matter. One night two sweet-tempered, + light-complexioned coal-passers hit me together, one with a shovel, the other with a + slice-bar. It was the slice-bar, I think, that got me. I didn't see it + coming—or going either—but probably it was the slice-bar." He bent his + neck and parted the heavy black hair. A white welt showed through the hair.</p> + <p>The head clerk flashed an enlightening wink toward the second head clerk; but the + second clerk, seeming to be less interested than formerly, the wink was flashed over + to the stenographer; but as she, too, seemed preoccupied, the head clerk, rather less + buoyantly, inquired, "And what did you do to the two coal-passers?"</p> + <p>"For what I did to them—after I came to—I had to jump into the Mersey + and swim ashore. British justice, you know. Inflexible!—especially to a + foreigner who cracks a couple of domestic skulls."</p> + <p>"And then?"</p> + <p>"English navy."</p> + <p>The head clerk began to flash again. "And what, may I arsk, was wrong—haw, + haw!—wrong with the sair-vice?"</p> + <p>The new-comer almost smiled. "The grub, for one thing. My word, the grub! Blow me + for a bleedin' Dutchman, but I couldn't go the grub; <a name="page177" + id="page177"></a><span class="pagenum">[pg 177]</span> y'know. An' a man's a man, + with a man's 'eart an' feelin's, even if 'e's nowt but a sailor, ain't he now? You're + bloody well right 'e is. But I took a fall out of a submarine before I quit. 'Ave you + seen 'em—the little black chaps wot goes down an' comes up like bloomin' little + poppusses?"</p> + <p>The head clerk unobtrusively relapsed into his every-day speech. "And weren't they + exciting enough for you?"</p> + <p>"The one I was in was. But you see, sir, she sunk one d'y an' all 'ands with + 'er."</p> + <p>"Evidently you didn't sink with her. Or maybe you're amphibious?"</p> + <p>"Amphibious? Oh, I s'y now, but that's a good one. My word! But you was jokin', + wasn't you, sir? Of course you was. No, hi 'appened to be ashore that d'y, sir. A + mistike, sir, you see. But such a turn of wit as you 'ave, sir!"</p> + <p>The head clerk suddenly shed his smile. "Never mind about my wit. What then? You + deserted?"</p> + <p>"Not hexactly, sir. I was hofficially dead, sir. Ought to 'ave been at the bottom, + sir. O yes, sir. An' when I comes along an' declares myself, they said I was a + himposter—himposin' on honest people, sir—mikin' a 'ero o' myself, sir, + as bein' the only man to escipe, sir. An' so I comes aw'y—in a 'urry, sir. But + if I was married, sir, my widow could 'ave 'ad 'er pension, sir. Yes, sir, 'er + pension."</p> + <a name="page178" id="page178"></a><span class="pagenum">[pg 178]</span> + <p>"That's a queer thing."</p> + <p>"Do you think so, sir?"</p> + <p>The head clerk unexpectedly bounced up and down in his chair. "See here, don't + imagine you can make fun of me, because you can't."</p> + <p>"Now don't get grouchy. When you pull out a cigar and start to light it, don't + blame a man looking on if he thinks you don't object to smoking. Anyhow, after my + navy experience I came back home and landed on an East River tug. Said I struck the + busy season. Must have struck a busy concern, too. From daylight to ten, eleven at + night—once in a while a night lapping over. Nothing doing but work. I don't + mind work, but this indulging a lawless passion for it—not for mine. I've had + three months of that, and I think I'm due for a change. And don't you think that's + enough autobiography to qualify me for pump-man on an oil-tanker?"</p> + <p>The head clerk yawned prodigiously, and hummed, and whistled, looked out of the + window, and by and by found time to say, "you can leave your name. And sometime + possibly"—and just then the buzzer clicked, and the applicant saw him disappear + into the private office.</p> + <hr class="short" /> + <p>It was only the new superintendent's second day, and to the head clerk he still + seemed an unaggressive sort, not much to look at, and, so far, not <a name="page179" + id="page179"></a><span class="pagenum">[pg 179]</span> much to say. A clever man + ought to be able to handle him. And yet, as the head clerk was crossing the floor of + the private office, the eye of the new superintendent never looked away. Yes, he did + have a puzzling eye.</p> + <p>"Close the door, Mr. Grump. Why not ship that man for that berth? He seems + competent."</p> + <p>"The captain of the <i>Rapidan</i> said he had a man in mind for the place, + sir."</p> + <p>"M-h-h. And something of a martinet, isn't he, this <i>Rapidan</i> captain?"</p> + <p>"Something, sir."</p> + <p>"M-h-h. But even so, he probably won't object to my naming one man of his crew. + And I would like it if you would sign this man."</p> + <p>"The captain of the <i>Rapidan</i> has always selected all his own crew, sir." The + head clerk had rested both hands, with fingers spread, on his chief's desk. His chief + making no reply, the head clerk added: "And he rather resents interference from the + office."</p> + <p>The superintendent was playing idly with a paper knife. His gaze seemed to be + directed to the lower buttons of his head clerk's waistcoat. "Interference?" he + repeated. "Interference? Mr. Grump, you have a reputation for humor, or so I judge. + I've been listening to you trying to bedevil that man out there, but I'm afraid your + humor is a little on <a name="page180" id="page180"></a><span class="pagenum">[pg + 180]</span> the slap-stick order. And so"—the superintendent raised his + head—"if I use a club on you, instead of the point of a rapier, I hope you + won't think I do it out of natural brutality."</p> + <p>Their eyes met. The head clerk straightened from shoulder to heel. "And now, this + is not a request; it is an order: Sign that man."</p> + <p>"Yes, sir."</p> + <p>"And Mr. Grump, why did you ask all those questions of a man you had no notion of + shipping?"</p> + <p>"Why, sir, I meant no harm by that, sir. All kinds come here looking for berths on + our ships, and some of them are rather queer ones, you know, sir, and we like to have + a little fun with them."</p> + <p>"Have fun with that man? I wish I had your intellectual nerve."</p> + <p>"You know him, sir? If I had known—"</p> + <p>"I don't know him. I saw him and listened to him, as you did. But let me tell you + something, Mr. Grump. You're paid $5,000 a year here, and presumably you know your + business. I get several times that. Presumably I, too, know my business. But when you + or I reach a stage where we can have fun with that man out there, then you and I + won't have to rest content with our relatively subordinate and unimportant executive + positions in the Northern and Southern Oil Company."</p> + <p>"Subordinate positions, sir!"</p> + <a name="page181" id="page181"></a><span class="pagenum">[pg 181]</span> + <p>"Exactly. And Mr. Grump?"</p> + <p>"Yes, sir."</p> + <p>"Why is it that good men don't seem to stay long on some of our ships, especially + on the <i>Rapidan</i>?"</p> + <p>"I couldn't say, sir."</p> + <p>"No? Too bad you didn't take the trouble to find out during all the years you've + been here. Possibly I can find out. I'll take passage on the <i>Rapidan</i> this + trip. But say nothing about it to anybody, mind. If the captain wishes to know + something more of his passenger, say that it is a friend of the third or fourth + vice-president, or of one of the directors, or of the office boy's, or the + stenographer's, or anybody at all, taking a little sea trip for his health. And his + name—" He picked up the telephone directory, inserted the blade of the paper + knife, opened the book, and laid the knife across the page. "Noyes. Noyes sounds all + right. Tell him the passenger's name is Noyes. And that's all for now, except that + you sign that man."</p> + <p>"Yes, sir." The reorganized head clerk clicked his heels, wheeled, marched to his + desk, and without delay signed John Kieran as pump-man for the Gulf voyage of the oil + ship <i>Rapidan</i>.</p> + <a name="page182" id="page182"></a><span class="pagenum">[pg 182]</span> + <h3>II</h3> + <p>It lacked two minutes to sailing time, and the passenger was in the cabin + mess-room, when he heard the exclamation. "Here he comes now."</p> + <p>He looked through the air-port. Out on the deck was a huge fellow gazing up the + dock. The passenger, who knew the big man for the boson, gazed up the dock also and + saw that it was the pump-man coming; and he was singing cheerily as he came:</p> + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="line"> + "Our ship she was alaborin' in the Gulf o' Mexico, + </div> + <div class="line"> + The skipper on the quarter—" + </div> + </div> + </div> + <p>Usually it is only the drunks who come over the side of an oil-tanker singing, but + this was no drunk. Drunks generally make use of all the aids to navigation when they + board a ship. Above all, they do not ignore the gang-plank. But this lad wasn't going + a hundred feet out of his way for any gang-plank. He hove his suit-case aboard, made + a one-handed vault from dock to deck (and from stringpiece to rail was high as his + shoulder), and when he landed on deck it was like a cat on his toes; and like a cat + he was off and away, suit-case in hand, while those of the crew who had only seen him + land were still wondering where he dropped from.</p> + <p>The big man plainly did not like the style of him <a name="page183" + id="page183"></a><span class="pagenum">[pg 183]</span> at all. "Here you!" he + bellowed, "who the hell are <i>you</i>?"</p> + <p>And the new-comer ripped out, "And who the hell are <i>you</i> that wants to + know?"</p> + <p>"Who'm I? Who'm I? I'll show yer bloody well soon who I am."</p> + <p>"Well, show me."</p> + <p>"Show yer?"</p> + <p>"Yes, you big sausage, show me."</p> + <p>"Show yer? Show yer?" The big man peered around the ship. Surely it was a + mirage.</p> + <p>At the very first whoop from the big man the pump-man had stopped dead, softly set + down his suit-case, and waited. Now he stepped swiftly toward the big man. And to the + passenger, looking and listening from the cabin mess-room, it looked like the finest + kind of a battle; but just then the captain came up the gang-plank calling out, "Cast + off those lines. And don't fall asleep over it, either." The deck force scattered to + carry out his orders. The pump-man picked up his suit-case and went on to his + quarters.</p> + <p>Next morning (the ship by now well down the Jersey coast and the passenger on the + bridge by the captain's invitation) again was heard the carolling voice:</p> + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="line"> + "Our ship she was alaborin' in the Gulf o' Mexico, + </div> + <div class="line"> + The skipper on the quarter, with eyes aloft and low. + </div> + <div class="line"> + Says he, 'My bucko boys—'" + </div> + </div> + </div> + <a name="page184" id="page184"></a><span class="pagenum">[pg 184]</span> + <p>that far when the big man's hoarse bass interrupted, "Say you, what about that + Number Seven tank?"</p> + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="line"> + "—Says he, 'My bucko boys, it's asurely goin' to blow'" + </div> + </div> + </div> + <p>The pump-man paused, inclined his head, set one hand back of his ear, and asked, + "And what about Number Seven tank? And speak up, son, so I can hear you."</p> + <p>"Speak up!" The big man roared to the heavens. "Speak up! Don't tell me to speak + up. Did yer clean that tank out?"</p> + <p>"No, I didn't clean it out."</p> + <p>"Yer didn't? And why in hell didn't yer?"</p> + <p>"Because I don't have to. But I put a couple of men to work and saw that they + cleaned it out. And it was done before you were out of your warm bunk this + morning."</p> + <p>"Who's that big fellow?" The passenger put the question to the captain.</p> + <p>"That's my bosun—and a good one."</p> + <p>"And the other? Know anything of him?"</p> + <p>"The singing one? Nothin', except he's the new pump-man. And I can see right now + it won't be many hours afore the bosun'll beat his head off."</p> + <p>"You think he will?"</p> + <p>"I <i>know</i> he will. Why, look at him—the size of him, and solid's a + rock."</p> + <a name="page185" id="page185"></a><span class="pagenum">[pg 185]</span> + <p>The passenger took another look over the top of the bridge canvas. He was surely a + big man; and under his thin sleeveless jersey, surely a solid man. And the pump-man, + in his skimpy, badly-fitting dungarees, though of good height, did not look to be + much more than half the other's bulk.</p> + <p>"That same bosun's beat up more men than any shipping agency ever kept a record + of. That's Big Bill. And if you'd ever travelled on oil-tankers, you'd 'a' heard of + him. He's a whale. Take another look at him, Mr. Noyes."</p> + <p>Noyes took another look. The boson surely was a tremendously muscled man. He was + knobbed with muscle. But Noyes had his own opinion about the two men, and he hazarded + it now.</p> + <p>"But he's a wonderfully quick-moving fellow, that pump-man, captain. And he's + surely got his nerve with him. Look at him leap across that open hatch! If he fell + short he'd get a thirty-foot drop and break his neck."</p> + <p>"And I wish he would break his neck. And so can a kangaroo hop around, but you + wouldn't pick a kangaroo to fight a bull buffalo. You'll find out the difference, if + ever he tackles my bosun. And no fear my bosun won't get him. He'll get him, you see. + And when they come together I'll take good care there's no interruption."</p> + <a name="page186" id="page186"></a><span class="pagenum">[pg 186]</span> + <p>"But why does the bosun hound him so? This man was no sooner aboard than the bosun + began to crowd him."</p> + <p>"Did he? And perhaps you think the bosun of an oil-tanker's goin' to hand a man a + type-written letter every time he wants to have a word with him. He's a good bosun. + He knows his business, and he saves me a lot of trouble."</p> + <p>And what the captain did not say, but what Noyes imagined he saw in his eye, was: + "And I'll be telling you pretty soon to keep to yourself your opinion of ship's + matters."</p> + <p>When Noyes went to his room that night, it was for a stay of two days. More than a + year now since he had been to sea, and the weather passing Hatteras had been bad. But + now it was the fourth day out, and Hatteras was far astern, and the ship was plunging + easily southward, with the white sandy shore of Florida abeam. A fine, fair day it + was, with the Caribbean breeze pouring in through the air-port. The passenger shaved + and washed and got into his clothes. Above him he could hear the captain dressing + down somebody. He stepped out on deck.</p> + <p>It was two sailors who had complained of the grub, and he had made short work of + their complaint. "I'll give you what grub I please. And that's good grub." That and + more, and drove the <a name="page187" id="page187"></a><span class="pagenum">[pg + 187]</span> two sailors, with their dinners on their tin mess-plates, down to the + deck.</p> + <p>Noyes, who remembered that the company allowed fifty cents a day per man for grub, + took a look and a whiff of the protested rations as the men went by. "Phew!" He + ascended to the bridge. The captain turned to him. "Did you see those two? + Complaining of the grub, mind you. What do they know of grub? In the hovels they came + from they never saw good grub."</p> + <p>Noyes made no answer. He was interested just then in the pump-man, who now came + strolling along and presently overtook the protesting sailors. The better to observe + proceedings, Noyes took his station on the chart bridge aft. "And did you fellows + think that any polite game of conversation up on the bridge was going to get you a + shift of rations?" the pump-man was saying. "Don't you know that what he saves out of + the ship's allowance goes into his own pocket? What you fellows want to do is to go + and scare the cook to death—or half way to it. If it's only for a couple of + days, it'll help. Here, let's go back and shake him up. Besides, we might as well + start something to make a fellow smile. Most morbid packet ever I was in. You'd think + it was a crime to laugh on her. Come on."</p> + <p>The galley was a little house by itself on the after <a name="page188" + id="page188"></a><span class="pagenum">[pg 188]</span> deck of the ship. Noyes saw + the pump-man call out the cook, and after a time, their voices rising, he heard, + "Now, cookie, no more of that slush. Mind you, I'm wasting no time talking to the + captain. I'm talking to you. We know that he slips you a little ten-spot every month + for keeping down the grub bills; but even if he does, you'll have to dig out + something better."</p> + <p>"I'll be giving you what I please."</p> + <p>"You will, will you?" The cook was a good-sized man, and he held a skillet in his + hand, but he was taken by surprise. The pump-man whipped the skillet from him, + whirled him about, ran him into his galley, and closed and bolted the door behind + him. A stove-pipe projected from the roof of the galley. The pump-man climbed up, + stuffed a bunch of wet cotton waste into the stovepipe, and with a valve which he + seemed to be taking apart, took his stand by the taffrail.</p> + <p>Every few minutes he got up from his valve, put his ear to the door of the shack, + and listened. After twenty minutes or so he opened the door, lifted out the cook, and + held him over the rail. He was gulping like a catfish.</p> + <p>Noyes looked to see if the captain had witnessed the little comedy. Evidently he + had, for Noyes could hear him swearing.</p> + <p>Noyes, now on the bridge, was still chuckling <a name="page189" + id="page189"></a><span class="pagenum">[pg 189]</span> over the picture of the scared + cook when the pump-man came walking forward. He was swinging a pair of Stillson + wrenches, one in each hand, as if they were Indian clubs, and singing as he came:</p> + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="line"> + "Our ship she was alaborin' in the Gulf o' Mexico, + </div> + <div class="line"> + The skipper on the quarter, with eyes aloft and low. + </div> + <div class="line"> + Says he, 'My bucko boys, it's asurely goin' to blow— + </div> + <div class="line"> + Take every blessed rag from her, strip her from truck to toe, + </div> + <div class="line"> + And we'll see what she can make of it.' + </div> + <div class="line"> + And O, my eyes, it blew! And blew and blew, + </div> + <div class="line"> + And blew and blew! My soul, how it did blow! + </div> + <div class="line"> + Aboard the <i>Flying Walrus</i> in the Gulf o' Mexico. + </div> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="line"> + "The sea—" + </div> + </div> + </div> + <p>Noyes saw him leap to one side, even as he saw a heavy, triple-sheaved block bound + on the steel deck beside him. Noyes looked up. Aloft was the boson, apparently + rigging up some sort of a hoisting arrangement.</p> + <p>The pump-man stopped to pull out a handkerchief and wipe his forehead. Then he, + too, looked up. "Fine business. But did you think for a minute you—that I + didn't have my eye on you?"</p> + <p>It took the boson a minute or two to find his tongue. When he did, it was to say, + "Young fella, did you ship for a opera singer or wot?"</p> + <p>"I shipped for what you'll find my name signed against in the articles, and I'm on + the job every minute. And I'll go on singing if it pleases me. And if it pleases me, + I'll finish that song, too."</p> + <a name="page190" id="page190"></a><span class="pagenum">[pg 190]</span> + <p>"Not on this ship, you won't, 'less you sing it in your sleep and me not in + hearin'."</p> + <p>"I'll finish it on this ship, son. And it won't be in my sleep and you'll be + within hearing."</p> + <p>A group of deck-hands snickered, and the boson pretended to climb down from the + rigging. "You swine! What the—"</p> + <p>They retreated in terror. "It wasn't at you we was laffin', boson."</p> + <p>"Well, see that yer don't, yer cross-eyed whelps—see that yer don't."</p> + <p>"And do you mean to say, you collection of squashes, that you were laughing at + me?" The pump-man, still grasping a wrench in each hand, started across the deck + after them. "D'y' mean to—"</p> + <p>Down the gangway they retreated in a body. Noyes looked to the captain, but the + captain was looking out over the ship's side.</p> + <p>Noyes went down to luncheon, and after luncheon took his cigar and his book to his + room. When next he came out, he felt that something had happened since the little + adventure of the falling block. The captain was pacing the bridge by fits and starts. + The boson was leaning over the quarter-rail. The pump-man was busy on a small job + forward.</p> + <p>The quiet was unnatural. Noyes decided to take <a name="page191" + id="page191"></a><span class="pagenum">[pg 191]</span> his constitutional on the long + gangway of the main deck. As he paced aft he saw that some of the crew were laying + the hatches on one of the tanks. He paced forward. By the time he was aft again they + were overhauling a large tarpaulin. He watched them while they stretched it over the + hatch covers. He wondered what they were about, for the tanks of an empty oil ship + are usually left open in fine weather.</p> + <p>Presently he heard one of the men say to another as they stamped down the + tarpaulined hatch, "There—there's as good a prize ring as a man'd want." And + then he began to understand.</p> + <p>He stayed aft, while through the smoke of one long cigar he thought it out. When + he next went forward he stopped beside the pump-man, who was cutting a thread on a + section of deck-piping. "Do you mind my watching how you do that trick?" he + asked.</p> + <p>The pump-man looked up. "Surely not," adding after a moment, "though there's + nothing much worth watching to it."</p> + <p>Noyes noticed how deftly the tools were handled. Then he said, "So you and the big + fellow are going to have it out?"</p> + <p>"Yes, during dinner we agreed to settle it."</p> + <p>"But he's a notorious bruiser—liable to kill you."</p> + <a name="page192" id="page192"></a><span class="pagenum">[pg 192]</span> + <p>"Maybe, but I don't think so. I've trimmed 'em bigger."</p> + <p>"Not bigger, if they could fight at all?"</p> + <p>"Maybe they couldn't, but"—from beneath the grease and soot of his face his + teeth and eyes flashed swiftly upward—"they said they could."</p> + <p>Noyes took another turn of the long gangway. The tarpaulin was now clamped tightly + to the hatch-combings, rendering it smooth and firm under foot. Camp-stools for the + principals were also there, and two buckets of freshly drawn water in opposite + corners.</p> + <p>"Mr. Kieran"—Noyes had halted again beside the pump-man—"what is it + the captain's got against you?"</p> + <p>"Why"—he hesitated—"I don't think he's got anything against me + exactly." His next words came slowly, thoughtfully. "He may have something against my + kind, though."</p> + <p>"What do you mean by that?"</p> + <p>"Well, you see, a man of the captain's kind can never get a man of my kind to play + his game—and he knows it. What he wants around here is a lot of poor slobs who + will take the kicks and curses and poor grub, say thank you, sir, and come + again."</p> + <p>"But what game does he want you to play?"</p> + <p>"Well, I'm the pump-man. The ship has big bills for valving and piping and + repairing. If ever <a name="page193" id="page193"></a><span class="pagenum">[pg + 193]</span> the office got suspicious and called me in on it, why—" he shrugged + his shoulders.</p> + <p>Noyes studied the sea for a while. By and by he faced inboard. "Kieran, I've seen + ships before, even if I do get sea-sick sometimes. Was that an accident to-day, that + block dropping on you—almost?"</p> + <p>"Accident?" The recurring smile flashed anew. "That's the third I've side-stepped + in two days. I was in the bottom of a tank yesterday when a little hammer weighing + about ten pounds happened to fall in. In the old clipper-ship days, Mr. Noyes, a + great trick was to send a man out on the end of a yard in heavy weather and get the + man at the wheel to snap him overboard. On steamers, of course, we have no yards, and + so little items like spanners and wrenches and three-sheaved blocks fall from aloft. + But that's all right." The pump-man, all the while he was talking, kept fitting his + dies and cutting his threads. "I've got no kick coming. I came aboard this ship with + my eyes open, and I'm keeping 'em open"—he laughed softly—"so I won't be + carried ashore with 'em closed."</p> + <p>Noyes took a close look at the pump-man. The trick of light speech, his casual + manner in speaking of serious things, was not unbecoming, but this was a more + purposeful sort of person than he had <a name="page194" id="page194"></a><span + class="pagenum">[pg 194]</span> reckoned; a more set man physically, a more serious + man morally, than he had thought. There was more beef to him, too, than ever he + guessed; and the face was less oval, the jaw more heavily hung. The under teeth, + biting upward, were well outside the upper.</p> + <p>"But the bosun—he's altogether too huge," mused Noyes. He threw away his + cigar. "Kieran, you're too good a man to be manhandled by that brute. You say so, and + I'll stop the fight. I've got influence in the office, and I think I could present + the matter to the captain so that he will pull the bosun off."</p> + <p>"Thank you, Mr. Noyes, but you mustn't. I'd rather get beat to a pulp than crawl. + All I ask is that nobody reaches over and taps me on the back of the skull with a + four-pound hammer or some other useful little article while I'm busy with him."</p> + <p>"And when is it coming off?"</p> + <p>"Soon's we go off watch—eight bells."</p> + <p>"Eight bells? Four o'clock." Noyes drew out his watch. "Why, it's nine minutes to + that now."</p> + <p>"So near? Then I'd better begin to knock off, if I'm going to wash off and be + ready in time, hadn't I?" He finished his thread, gathered up his stock and dies, and + strolled off.</p> + <p>Noyes headed for the bridge. The captain's glance, as he came up the ladder, was + not at all <a name="page195" id="page195"></a><span class="pagenum">[pg 195]</span> + encouraging; but Noyes was already weary of the captain's hectoring glances.</p> + <p>"Captain, are you going to let it go on?" he asked, and not too deferentially.</p> + <p>"Let what go on?"</p> + <p>"That fight. They're going to have it out in a few minutes. Aft + there—look."</p> + <p>"I'm not looking. And I'll take good care I don't—not in that direction. And + what I don't see I can't stop, can I? Besides, I hope he beats that pump-man to a + jelly."</p> + <p>"Why, what's wrong with him?"</p> + <p>"Wrong? He's dangerous."</p> + <p>"Dangerous?"</p> + <p>"Dangerous, yes. Why, look at the mop of hair and the eyes of him. He's one of + those trouble-hunters, that chap. And if troubles don't turn up naturally, he'll go + out and dig them up. He's like one of those kind I read about once—used to live + a thousand years ago. All he needs is a horse seventeen hands high, and a wash-boiler + on his chest, and a tin kettle on his head, and one of those long lances, and he'd go + tilting about the country like that Don Quick-sote—"</p> + <p>"Don what?"</p> + <p>"Quick-sote—Quick-sote. That crazy Spaniard who went butting up against + windmills in that book of yours you leave around the cabin. A good name <a + name="page196" id="page196"></a><span class="pagenum">[pg 196]</span> for + him—Don John Quick-sote—running around buttin' into things he can't + straighten out."</p> + <p>"He could do all that and yet be the best kind of a man. And the bosun—why, + before I ever heard the name of this ship, I'd heard of her bosun. He's a notorious + brute."</p> + <p>"He's the kind of a brute I want to have around. He will do what I order him."</p> + <p>"Did you order him to bring on this fight?"</p> + <p>"And if I did, what of it? Do I have to account to you for what I do on my ship? + That pump-man is dangerous, I tell you. Why, just before we sailed, I was telephoning + over to the office to find out how he happened to be shipped, and a clerk—"</p> + <p>"The second clerk, was it?"</p> + <p>"What does it matter who it was? He said to watch out for him, too—that he + was the kind who knew it all. Wherever the office got him I don't know. And if you + know anybody in the office with a pull, you ought to put it up to them, Mr. Noyes, + when you go back. This pump-man, he's the kind recognizes no authority."</p> + <p>"Why, I thought he was very respectful toward your officers. And he seems to do + his work on the jump, too, captain."</p> + <p>"He carries out orders, yes; but if he felt like it, he'd tell me to go to hell as + quick as he'd tell the bosun. I can see it in his eye."</p> + <a name="page197" id="page197"></a><span class="pagenum">[pg 197]</span> + <p>"Don't you think he only wants to be treated with respect?"</p> + <p>"Treated with respect! Who do you think you're talkin' to—the cook? I don't + have to treat one of my crew with respect. I'm captain of my own ship, do you + hear?—captain of this ship, and I'll treat the crew as I damn please."</p> + <p>"I guess you will, too; but don't swear at me, captain. I'm not one of your + crew."</p> + <p>Noyes descended to the chart-room deck. "I wish," he breathed, "that that pump-man + had never seen this ship. They'll kill him before the day's over."</p> + <h3>III</h3> + <p>The after-rail of the chart-room deck looked almost directly down the hatch + whereon the fight was to take place. As Noyes was taking his position by the rail he + guessed that the bosun must have just said something which pleased the crew, for most + of them were still laughing heartily.</p> + <p>Kieran, on a camp-stool, waited for the laughter to simmer down. He fixed a + mocking eye on the bosun. "And so you're a whale, eh? And you'll learn me what a + whale can do to little fishes? Well, let me tell you something about a whale, son. A + whale is a sure enough big creature, but I never <a name="page198" + id="page198"></a><span class="pagenum">[pg 198]</span> heard he was a fighting fish + before. Now, if you knew more about some things, you'd never called yourself a whale, + but a thrasher. There's the best fighting fish of them all—the thrasher. The + thrasher's the boy with the wallop. He's the boy that chases the whale, and leaps + high out of the water, and snaps his long, limber tail, and bam! down he comes on + that big slob of a whale and breaks his back. All the wise old whales, they take to + deep water when they see a thrasher hunting trouble. It's the foolish young whales + that don't know enough to let the thrasher alone."</p> + <p>Noyes noted that the crew laughed more loudly at the bosun's rough jeers than at + the more sharply pointed comment of the pump-man. But looking them over, he began to + understand; these men were nearer to the bosun's type than the pump-man's. And also, + no crew could long remain ignorant of which it was the captain favored. If the + pump-man won, they would benefit by it, whether they were with him or no—some + selfish instinct in them taught them that; while if the bosun were to win (and who + could doubt that, looking at the two men?), why, 'twould be just as well to fly their + colors early.</p> + <p>Yet there were those who favored the game-looking pump-man. Two or three had the + courage to say so. It was these who cried out to give him <a name="page199" + id="page199"></a><span class="pagenum">[pg 199]</span> fair play when some ten or a + dozen were for rushing him off the hatch before the fight had begun at all.</p> + <p>Kieran thanked these with a grateful look. "That's all I want—fair play. + Keep off the hatch and give us room to move around in."</p> + <p>And yet it did seem for a moment as if the pump-man was to get no fair play, as if + the bosun's adherents would overwhelm him as he stood there on the hatch. And Noyes + experienced an unpleasant chill and began to appreciate the nerve of this man who + defied a crowd of alien spirits aboard a strange ship. It was more than physical + courage, and when they were making ugly demonstrations toward the pump-man it was in + pure admiration of his nerve that Noyes called out: "Hold up—fair play! Fair + play, I say—he's only one."</p> + <p>Coming from the passenger, it was the psychological act at the psychological + moment. They drew back, and Kieran, looking up, put his thanks in his look.</p> + <p>The two men faced each other. Kieran eyed the other critically. Up and down, from + toe to crown, he estimated his bulk; and then, taking a step to one side, he eyed him + once more, as if to get the exact depth of him.</p> + <p>"Well," said the bosun, and harking to his rising voice, his growling adherents + simmered to silence, "now yer've seen me, what d'yer think?"</p> + <a name="page200" id="page200"></a><span class="pagenum">[pg 200]</span> + <p>"I've seen 'em just as big, hulks of full your length and beam and draught, and in + a breeze I've seen vessels of less tonnage make 'em shorten sail."</p> + <p>"And so yer've been in the wind-jammin' line, huh?"</p> + <p>"That and a few others," answered Kieran tranquilly.</p> + <p>"Yer'll understand a talk then. An' here's a craft won't take any sail in before + you. And yer quite a hulk in the water yourself, now yer've come out where we c'n get + a peek at yer."</p> + <p>"You ought to see me when I'm hauled out on the ways," retorted Kieran. "A fair + little hulk out of water I may be, but it's below the water-line, like every good + ship, I get my real bearings. But shall we get to business? I've been hearing about + you for years. And for what you're going to do to me since I've come aboard—" + Kieran threw up his hands. "Oh, Lord, they tell me you drove your naked fist through + the wall of a saloon up on West Street before the ship put out."</p> + <p>"Yes, an' I can drive it through the side of you to-day."</p> + <p>"Man! and I'm not wall-sided either. You must be a hellion. But"—to Kieran's + ears had come the sound of muttering in the crowd—"shall we get at it? We ought + to make a good match of it. You may be a bit the bigger, but no matter. Three or <a + name="page201" id="page201"></a><span class="pagenum">[pg 201]</span> four inches in + height and sixty or seventy pounds, what's that? What d'you say?"—he turned to + the crew—"he's big enough to pull a mast down on deck. Are the two of us to + settle it here without interference? In the old days men fought so, the champions in + front of the armies, and the winning man allowed to ride back unharmed to his + comrades."</p> + <p>That picture, as the wily and eloquent pump-man painted it, impressed them. And he + looked so frail beside the bosun! They drew well back now; all but one, the crafty + carpenter, crony of the bosun and eager tool of the captain. There was that in the + pump-man's eyes—the carpenter stepped to the big man's shoulder. "Listen to me. + This man's no innercent. I've seen his picter somewheres."</p> + <p>"An' he'll see something of me in a minute, an' more than a picksher. Go away!" + The boson shoved the carpenter aside.</p> + <p>"What I like about you, bosun"—Kieran, having shed his dungaree coat, stood + now for a moment with a hand resting easily to either side of his waist—"and it + sticks out all over you, is your love of a fight. And"—under his breath this, + so only the bosun could hear it—"I'm going to satisfy that love of yours to-day + so you'll stop your ears up if ever again you hear a man even whisper fight. + Yes"—drawing off his undershirt, cinching his <a name="page202" + id="page202"></a><span class="pagenum">[pg 202]</span> trousers straps above his + hips, and resuming his easy speech—"I do love a real fighting man. But your + friends"—he waved his hand toward the crew—"they must all stand that + side. I want no man between me and the rail this side, no man behind me. 'Tisn't + fair." He turned to them. "Play me fair in that. I'm giving your man the slope of the + hatch, and he's tall enough in all conscience without. So let no man stand behind + me."</p> + <p>The arms and torso of the pump-man, as he stood there naked to the waist, amazed + Noyes. It surprised them all. He had seemed only a medium-sized man under the + concealing dungarees. Noyes saw now that he was a bigger man by fifteen or twenty + pounds than he had had any idea of; and were he padded with twenty pounds more, he + would still be in good condition. Not a lump anywhere; not a trace of a bulging + muscle, except that when he flexed his arm or worked his shoulders by way of + loosening them up he started little ripples that ran like mice from neck to loins + under the skin; and when, with this shoulder movement, he combined a rapid leg + motion, Noyes fancied he could trace the play of muscle clear to his heels. His skin, + too, had the unspotted gleaming whiteness of high vitality.</p> + <p>"He's a reg'lar race horse—a tiger," burst out from one admirer in the + crowd.</p> + <p>The bosun, also stripped of his upper garments, <a name="page203" + id="page203"></a><span class="pagenum">[pg 203]</span> looked all of his great size, + and, moving about, showed himself not altogether lacking in agility. Lively, indeed, + he was for his immense bulk, although, compared to the pump-man in that, he was like + a moose beside a panther. "It ain't goin' to be so one-sided after all," whispered + some one loudly, and recalled the pump-man's leaping across the hatch that very + morning. And now, as he ducked and turned, seeming never to lack breath for easy + speech, there were others who were beginning to believe it would not be so one-sided + either.</p> + <p>"Speaking of wind-jammers, I remember"—the bosun had rushed past him like a + charging elephant—"hearing my old grandfather tell of seeing a three-decker + manoeuvring once. She'd come into stays about the middle of the morning watch, he + said, and maybe toward three bells in the second dogwatch they'd have her on the + other tack. A ship of the old line she was, a terrible fighter, if only fighting was + done from moorings; but there were little devils of frigates kept sailing 'round and + 'round her. What? Why don't I stand up? Stand up, is it? Why, man, I don't see where + I've been hove-down yet. Hove-down, no, nor wet my rail yet. And is it you or I is + fighting this end of it? Is it?"—a subtle threat with his left, one cunning + feint of his right, one whip-like inboring of the left hand, and up came the bosun + all-standing.</p> + <a name="page204" id="page204"></a><span class="pagenum">[pg 204]</span> + <p>"You're easy luffed," jeered Kieran. "A moment ago you were drawing like a + square-rigger before a quartering gale, and now you're shaking in the wind—yes, + and likely to be aback, if you don't watch out."</p> + <p>The teeth locked in the bosun's head—so hard a jolt for so smoothly + delivered a blow! He gazed amazed. Again a deceptive swing or two, a fiddling with + one hand and the other, a moment of rapid foot-work, a quick side-step, and biff! + Kieran's left went into the ribs—crack! and Kieran's right caught him on the + cheek-bone and laid it open as if hit with a cleaver.</p> + <p>"Devil take it!" exploded Kieran, "I meant that for your jaw. It's this slippery + tarpaulin." He slid his foot back and forth on the black-tarred canvas. "The cook's + been dropping some of his slush on it, and you, bosun, didn't see to it that it was + cleaned. You ought to look after those little things or the skipper'll be having you + up to the bridge. But, come now, just once more"—he curved his left forearm + persuasively—"once more and—"</p> + <p>But having caught the flame in the eye that never once looked away from his, the + bosun wanted no more of that long-range work. It must be close quarters thereafter, + or he foresaw disgrace. He appealed to the men at his back. "He won't stand <a + name="page205" id="page205"></a><span class="pagenum">[pg 205]</span> up like a man. + He leaps around like a bloody monkey."</p> + <p>"That's right, bosun. Stand up to him there, you!" That was the carpenter's voice. + And others followed. 'Twasn't so men'd been used to fightin' on oil-tankers. No, sir. + "Stand to him breast to breast!" The carpenter led further clamorous voices.</p> + <p>"Aye, breast to breast be it." Kieran was standing at ease. "And yet you all been + telling how he drove his fist through a pine plank the other day up on the New York + water-front."</p> + <p>"Yes, an' I c'n drive it through you, if yer come close to me."</p> + <p>"Close to you? Is this close enough to you?" No more side-stepping, no more swift + shifting—just a straight step in, and they were clinched. With arms wrapped + around the body of the other, each an inside and outside hold, and fingers locked in + the small of the other's back, they were at it. One tentative tug and haul and the + bosun began to see that he would need all his strength for this man. Another + long-drawn tug and he began to fear the outcome. Again, and in place of his foe + coming to him, it was his own waist he felt drawn forward. Slowly he felt his head + falling back, and gradually his shoulders followed. In toward Kieran came the hollow + of the big man's back, and the big man <a name="page206" id="page206"></a><span + class="pagenum">[pg 206]</span> knew he had met his master; and, bitterest of all, + this man poured galling words into his ear as he bore him back; gibing words, in so + low a voice that they reached no further than the ear for which they were + intended.</p> + <p>"Your own favorite Cumberland grip—where's the whale strength of you now, + Bruiser Bill—your buffalo rush, hah? It's my weakness to make a show of you + here on this deck—you, my Bruising Bill, the boastful lump of muscle that you + are. Just muscle, no more. And now where are you—where, I say?"</p> + <p>The long, smooth muscles of Kieran's back were gathering and swelling. His waist, + contrasted with the splendid development under his shoulders, looked slim as a + corseted girl's; and not Noyes alone was noting them. Every muscle in the + smooth-skinned body—it seemed as if he drew them from his very toes for service + in that hug.</p> + <p>The bosun's breath was coming in labored gasps, yet still that terrible man kept + holding him close, drawing his waist to him and increasing his pressure as he drew. + "You've the tonnage and engine-room of a battleship," jeered Kieran, "but you've only + the steam of an East River tug. And a low-pressure tug at that. And what little steam + you had is gone. You've a big engine but no boiler. And you know what use an engine + is without a <a name="page207" id="page207"></a><span class="pagenum">[pg 207]</span> + boiler, don't you? Well, that's you, son—your steam's gone."</p> + <p>The swimming head kept falling backward toward the ground. And for Kieran, as he + felt his enemy weaken, the purple lights were flashing again. The call of battle was + ringing in his ears; came back to him the memory of more careless days, when he lived + for this kind of thing. After all, what was life but a means whereby to give one's + spirit play? And yet again—and yet—was he no more than a brute himself? + What was the use? What good would it all do? And suddenly he loosed his grip, and the + inert body of the bosun rolled down the tarpaulined hatch and onto the steel + deck.</p> + <p>Noyes found himself gasping, almost as if he were in the fight himself. Then he + noted that Kieran had raised his hand and was addressing the crew. "Holdup! You said + the fight would settle it. Mind your words now—fair play for one against you + all. Fair play, I say," and they might have scattered before this blazing, fighting + pump-man in the full lust of his power but for the carpenter, who poised a hammer to + throw. "What! you would!" yelled Kieran. A leap, a pass, and his fist smashed into + the lowering face. Over keeled the carpenter, a tall man, like a falling spar.</p> + <p>"Put that man in irons!" Noyes jumped at the voice. The captain was leaning over + the rail beside him.</p> + <a name="page208" id="page208"></a><span class="pagenum">[pg 208]</span> + <h3>IV</h3> + <p>"Irons?" The pump-man's head went into the air. For a moment he stood poised on + the hatch like a statue. "Irons?" His face paled and hardened and his arms stiffened; + but instantaneously, as half a dozen reached out to seize him, he ducked and twisted + and side-stepped, and two, who could not be avoided, he knocked swiftly out of his + way. He cracked a fist into one face, then the other. There was no malice in it; they + simply barred his way to freedom. He leaped from combing to combing of the open + hatches. It was thirty feet to the bottom of any one of these empty tanks, and those + who followed did so at creeping speed.</p> + <p>He was clear of the mob. A light bound and he was on the ship's rail beside the + after-rigging.</p> + <p>The captain, leaning as far out as the chart deck would allow, shook a raging arm + at Kieran. "You'll assault, you'll batter my men right and left, will you, you crazy + mutineer?"</p> + <p>"Don't call me a mutineer, captain—I've disobeyed no order."</p> + <p>"You are a mutineer. I declare you one now. And you'll go into irons."</p> + <p>"You'll never put me in irons."</p> + <p>"You'll go into irons or you'll go over the side."</p> + <div class="figcenter"> + <a name="image7" id="image7"></a> <a href="images/image7_full.jpg"><img + src="images/image7_thumbnail.png" + alt=""Don't call me a mutineer, captain—I've disobeyed no order"" /> + </a> + <p>"Don't call me a mutineer, captain—I've disobeyed no order"</p> + </div> + <p>"Well, maybe I'll go over the side. But before <a name="page209" + id="page209"></a><span class="pagenum">[pg 209]</span> I go, if I have to go, I'll + have a word to say. You've been trying to break my nerve from the beginning. I know + your kind that bully and starve your crew, and won't have a man on your ship that you + can't bully and starve. And so you set your bully bosun to do me—do me to + death, if he had to. And when he's not clever enough nor able enough, you'd put me in + irons—in irons here on the high seas—out here where no law can get + you!"</p> + <p>The first officer was now on the deck beneath the pump-man. "You'd better come + down, Kieran. It will be the safest way in the end."</p> + <p>"Mr. Brown, you're a good officer, and I don't want to cross you, but you're not + going to put me in irons."</p> + <p>The ship was rolling gently. Kieran rested one hand lightly, by way of balance, on + a stay, and kicked his shoes overboard. "A step nearer, Mr. Brown, and I go after the + shoes."</p> + <p>"But it's five miles to the Florida shore, Kieran, and alive with sharks. You'd + never make it. Come on now."</p> + <p>"No. Five miles or fifty, I'll have a try at it."</p> + <p>Noyes now laid a warning hand on the captain's arm. "Are you going to insist on + putting that man in irons?"</p> + <p>"I am. And stand clear of me, you."</p> + <p>"If you try to, he'll jump overboard."</p> + <a name="page210" id="page210"></a><span class="pagenum">[pg 210]</span> + <p>"And if he does, what of it?"</p> + <p>"If he does, there'll be a bad time ahead for you."</p> + <p>"There will? There's liable to be a bad time for you right now. Do you know you + have no rights on this ship unless I say so? Don't you know I can put you in irons, + too—that's marine law—if I feel like it?"</p> + <p>"I know what maritime law is. And that's the devil of it when there's a brute on + the bridge. You can put me in irons if you want to, but I don't think you will."</p> + <p>"So?" sneered the captain. "I won't? And why not?"</p> + <p>"Because I'm no friendless seafarer. And also because—here's my card. Read + it. It's the card of your boss, the man who can hire or fire you, or any other man or + officer of this line. And I don't have to give you a reason unless it pleases me. But + I'll give a reason at the right time—in your case. And the reason will leave + you where you'll never again set foot on the deck of any ship of this line or of a + good many other lines."</p> + <p>The captain had set his back to the rail and bared his teeth. Noyes, thinking he + was about to spring, braced his feet and waited. Noyes himself was no angelic-looking + creature at the moment. His jaw seemed to shoot forward, his eyes to contract and + recede.</p> + <a name="page211" id="page211"></a><span class="pagenum">[pg 211]</span> + <p>"And so that's who you are, is it? And you'd break me?"</p> + <p>"Break you, yes. And perhaps put you in jail before I'm done with you. Now will + you put him in irons?"</p> + <p>The captain did not spring. He walked to his room instead. And he gave out no + order just then; but soon the mess-boy came out and whispered to the first officer, + and the first officer said, "Kieran, you're to return to duty," and pocketed his + irons and called off the men.</p> + <hr class="short" /> + <p>It was an hour after the fight. Kieran had had time to clean up, and now, with the + passenger, he was pacing the long gangway.</p> + <p>"And would you have gone over the side?" the passenger had asked.</p> + <p>"I guess I'd had to, wouldn't I?"</p> + <p>"And would you have reached shore?"</p> + <p>"Why not? Five miles—it's not much in smooth water."</p> + <p>"But the sharks?"</p> + <p>"Sharks? Black boys in West Indian ports will dive all day among them for coppers. + Sharks and whales—writers of sea stories certainly ought to pension them. There + may have been a shark who once made a meal off a sailor, but let you or me drop over + the side, and if there's one anywhere near, he wouldn't stop racing till he was a + mile <a name="page212" id="page212"></a><span class="pagenum">[pg 212]</span> away, + and if any harmless slob of a whale ever killed a sailor, be sure he did it through + fright. But that's no matter. What does matter, though"—Kieran halted and faced + the passenger—"are the men who did go over the side, and not within swimming + distance of any pleasant sandy beach either. 'Tisn't every protesting seaman who + finds the boss of the line on deck to back him up. And, what's harder, how about the + men who never had the choice of going over the side? And think of the poor creatures + who got so that in time they didn't even want to go over the side, who might have + grown into honest, free men, but who, instead of that, learned only to live for the + day when they too would have the power to make their inferiors stand around and + cringe and whine."</p> + <p>They paced the length of the deck twice before Kieran spoke again.</p> + <p>"They wonder at the decay of our merchant marine. I wonder did they ever stop to + think of what men—seamen—think of the service? In the days of sailing + ships a man going to sea met with real danger and hardship, and they developed + courage and skill and character of some kind. What training does he get to take the + place of that now? He's a hand nowadays, a helper, a lumper—not a + sailor—on a great big hulk to which disaster is almost impossible."</p> + <p>"But disasters do happen."</p> + <a name="page213" id="page213"></a><span class="pagenum">[pg 213]</span> + <p>"They do, but what is the truth about them? Nine out of ten of them have a + disgraceful cause. But the public doesn't hear of that, because the public doesn't go + to sea—except as a saloon passenger. The public gets its story from the + steamship company's office—always, and you know what kind of a story they put + out—put out through newspapers that carry their advertising. You know what that + chief clerk or that second clerk of yours would tell any inquiring outsider in case + of a loss of life on one of these ships. He'd lie and lie and lie and lie and think + he was serving a good cause at that, and the papers publishing the lie would think + they were serving a good cause, too—especially the constructive organization + papers, as they call themselves. Our big steamship officers these days—outside + of the navy—don't get the kind of work that keeps men up to the mark, and not + getting it they grow soft—their bodies and their souls become flabby. Engineer + officers nowadays have the work cut out for them and they are doing good work, but + the bridge officers are no longer men of the sea—they're clerks, agents in + floating hotels. And the crew take their tone from the officers. When the commander's + weak, your whole outfit is apt to weaken, especially under a strain."</p> + <p>They resumed their pacing, Kieran with head high in the air, inhaling deep breaths + of the fresh salt air.</p> + <a name="page214" id="page214"></a><span class="pagenum">[pg 214]</span> + <p>The passenger came out of a deep meditation. "Kieran, you can do a good work for + us. Is there any berth with this line you'd like to have? If there is, say so. You + can have it. You can have that head clerk's job if you want it. And I think that + after a while I could get you mine, for I'm only there to fill a gap."</p> + <p>Kieran shook his head. "It wouldn't do."</p> + <p>"Why not? You're the man for the job."</p> + <p>"No, I'm not the man. You haven't got me quite right. I can point out errors, but + I'm not the man to correct them. I'm not a good executive."</p> + <p>"You certainly were the good executive in the bosun's case."</p> + <p>"N-no, no. You mustn't count him. If he was a John L. Sullivan, say, in his good + days, it would prove something. Besides, I don't care for fighting—for beating + people up. I do hate though to see a bully or a faker getting the best of it, and + maybe having had time to knock around and study people, I can pick out a bully or a + faker quicker than most people, and seeing somebody getting too much the best of it, + why, sometimes I can't help butting in."</p> + <p>"And because of that faculty of seeing things, once you made up your mind to + settle down to it, you'd make good on this job I'm offering you."</p> + <p>"No, you've got me wrong again. I'm not a <a name="page215" id="page215"></a><span + class="pagenum">[pg 215]</span> reformer, and never will be, I hope. Reformers, or + most that ever I met, are only men who first tried to play politics and got licked at + it. I'm only an observer."</p> + <p>"But you like a fight?"</p> + <p>"M-m-m-n not me. And I never did. Any man, of course, likes the excitement once + he's into it, but what man enjoys smashing another man in the face? What fights I've + been into I couldn't side-step—not without crawling, I mean. No, no, I wouldn't + make good on your job. I'd go along all right in your office back in New York for + awhile,—for a month, two months, six months,—who knows, maybe a year, and + then one day I'd look out the window, take a look down on the Battery, say at the + elevated railroad or the Aquarium Building, and the Coney Island steamer dock with + the barkers yelling and gesturing, and the loafers on the benches in between, and + from that I'd look down the bay and see the Statue of Liberty—some morning that + would be, maybe, when the sun was lighting up New York Bay as it does some mornings, + or maybe it would be on a late afternoon, with the sun setting over on the Jersey + shore, the dark smoke from a hundred chimneys smooching across the pink and purple of + it, and, if 'twas summer, a haze like a bridal veil over it all, and between that and + the Battery the life of a hundred craft—ferry-boats, <a name="page216" + id="page216"></a><span class="pagenum">[pg 216]</span> tow-boats, lighters, + windjammers, steam-yachts, ocean-liners, harbor, coastwise and foreign bound, a + hundred different kinds coming and going, the Lord knows where, but to where no four + walls will bound 'em for a time, be sure of that. And if ever I did look and looked + long enough, be sure the earth would look like it was rolling by too slow and I'd + want to get out and give it a push to speed it up. No, no. That"—he looked up + at the serene blue—"for my ceiling. And that"—he pointed to the dimpling + green sea—"for my office floor. And that"—he waved a hand to + space—"for a window. And let all the bruising bosuns and bucko ship's officers + afloat jump on me, but give me that and I'll take a chance. And—"</p> + <p>He stopped short and sighed. "I do get going sometimes, don't I?" He looked around + the deck. In a bucket of water by the rail the bosun was bathing his battered + features. "The bosun reminds me. To-day I promised him I'd finish my Flying Walrus + song."</p> + <p>"Go ahead and finish it—that first verse was pretty good."</p> + <p>"The second's better—or I think so. And"—he grinned at the + passenger—"I composed it myself, too, to an air running in my head. And I + suppose I ought to finish it. And yet"—the bosun was pouring, very quietly, his + bucket of wash <a name="page217" id="page217"></a><span class="pagenum">[pg + 217]</span> water into the scuppers—"that would be sort of rubbing it in, + wouldn't it?"</p> + <p>"What of it? It will do them all good."</p> + <p>"I don't know about that. If it"—and just then three bells struck, and three + bells on the <i>Rapidan</i> meant supper for the watch below.</p> + <p>Kieran left to go to supper, and the passenger noted the deference of the crew + toward him. Not one who found himself in his way but hopped swiftly aside to give him + gangway.</p> + <p>"How conducive to high judgment, how accelerating to respect is success," mused + the passenger. "Two hours ago hardly one of them who did not set him down for a + half-crazy, or, at least, an over-sanguine visionary—but now—they bound + like stags before him, and none more propitiatingly agile than the former satellites + of our deposed bosun. A Don Quixote"—murmured the passenger—"maybe, but a + 20th century Don Quixote—with a wallop in each hand. If the Don Quixotes + generally had his equipment, it would not be windmills alone which would suffer, and + some joy then for honest men to watch the tilting."</p> + <hr /> + <a name="page219" id="page219"></a><span class="pagenum">[pg 219]</span> + <h2>Jan Tingloff</h2> + <h3>THE LODGING HOUSE</h3> + <p>Jan Tingloff, not wishing to get too far away from the dry dock, turned up a side + street near the water-front, and there, in a basement window of a narrow four-story + brick building, he saw the sign "Furnished Room to Rent."</p> + <p>A second look showed Jan that the basement also afforded an entrance to a not too + well lit pool-room and that a not overclean alley ran up one side of the building. + Jan, with no prejudices against alleys or pool-rooms, entered the pool-room to + inquire. "Yeh," said the man behind the cigar-case—"second floor—a week + in advance—ring the front-door bell—a woman will come and show you."</p> + <p>A woman who preceded him like a discouraged shadow showed him the room, but it was + to the man in the basement that she told Jan to pay the week's rent when he said he + would take the room. "Yes; I take the rent—always," this man said; and his eyes + brightened as Jan pushed the money across the cigar-case at him. And he wore + finger-rings out of all keeping with the dark little place; but he had <a + name="page222" id="page222"></a><span class="pagenum">[pg 222]</span> a pleasant + smile for Jan and Jan smiled back at him; for Jan was one of those friendly natures + who prefer to be pleasant, even to men whose looks they do not like.</p> + <p>Jan Tingloff slept in his new quarters that night. He saw nobody connected with + the house as he passed out in the morning; but that evening as he entered the + front-door he heard a cough. It was a woman's cough and dimly he saw a woman's + form—a rather slender form. Jan's senses were the kind which see a thing large + at first and then go back for details. He hurried to close the door so that the cold + November wind would not endanger the poor creature further. As he closed the door she + said:</p> + <p>"Good evening."</p> + <p>Jan hurried to take off his hat.</p> + <p>"Good evening, ma'am."</p> + <p>"You go off early mornings, captain?"</p> + <p>"Yes, ma'am." He peered into the twilight of the hall and saw a hand lighting the + suspension lamp. "But I'm not a captain, ma'am. I was a seafaring man one time; but I + am a ship-carpenter now in a repairing job on a big coaster in the dry dock, and I + have to be over there early to get my gang started."</p> + <p>She was turning the wick of the lamp high and then low, and high again, and Jan + was vexed to <a name="page223" id="page223"></a><span class="pagenum">[pg 223]</span> + think he had not offered to light the lamp for her in the first place, especially as + he now recognized in her the same sad-eyed woman who had showed him his room the + evening before. It was twilight then, too, but she had lit no lamp in the hall or in + the room, and Jan guessed why and did not blame her for it. The furnishings here, as + in his room, were shabby.</p> + <p>Jan began to feel a pity for her. There was that in the curve of her back which + caused him to address her with unwonted gentleness—and ordinarily Jan was + gentle enough for anybody's taste. Yes, she was the same woman; but if he had met her + anywhere else he would not have known her. She was now all tidied up. Her clothes + were fresh, her shoulders had lost their droop. Her face was less pale and a glow was + coming into her eyes.</p> + 2 + <p>Jan's room was on the second floor and now he ascended the stairs to go there. At + the top of the stairs he glanced back; but catching her looking at him he looked + quickly away. From the darkness of the second-floor hallway, however, he could peer + down and she could not see him. She was still there, standing under the lamp which + was now at full blaze. One arm had been raised high in regulation of the wick and now + she raised the other to steady the lamp, which was swinging. Her figure was in the + shadow from the waist down, but her <a name="page224" id="page224"></a><span + class="pagenum">[pg 224]</span> bust, her neck, face and long, slim hands were in + full light.</p> + <p>"I'd never took her for the same woman—never!" thought Jan.</p> + <p>Next evening Jan saw her again, this time in the narrow second-floor hallway near + the stairs. She shrank against the stair-rail to let him pass. Jan drew up against + the wall. She mutely indicated that he should pass.</p> + <p>"After you, ma'am," said Jan, and resolutely waited.</p> + <p>"Thank you," she said, and passed on. At the head of the flight of stairs she + turned her head. Jan was still there.</p> + <p>"Is your room all right?" She asked the question hurriedly, awkwardly.</p> + <p>"All right, ma'am."</p> + <p>"And not too noisy for you here?—the basement noise, I mean."</p> + <p>"A ship-carpenter, ma'am—he soon gets used to noise."</p> + <p>"Of course." She glanced furtively at him. "Good-night." She hurried + downstairs.</p> + <p>That night when Jan, who read romantic fiction to relieve his loneliness, laid + down his stirring mediæval tale to go to bed, he did not follow up the + intention with immediate action, as usual.</p> + <p>By and by he raised the window-sash, and the <a name="page225" + id="page225"></a><span class="pagenum">[pg 225]</span> cool, damp sea-air feeling + good, he leaned out to enjoy it. It was a cloudy night, with a touch of coming snow + in the air; but for all that a night to enjoy, only for the racket ascending from the + pool-room.</p> + <p>"I don't think much of those people down there," thought Jan as he lowered the + sash to all but six or eight inches for fresh air and picked up the alarm clock from + the rickety dresser. "I wonder if she's one of that crowd?" And he began to wind the + clock. "But sure she ain't—sure not."</p> + <p>Jan had been holding the clock absently in his hand. Suddenly he set it down and + scolded himself—"Jan Tingloff, remember you has to be up at six in the + morning!"—and undressed, blew out the light and slid into bed, and tried to go + to sleep. And he did after a while; but his last thought before he fell into slumber + was: "Who'd ever think one day a woman could grow so young-looking the next day?"</p> + <hr class="short" /> + <p>Many an evening after that Jan met the landlady on the stairs or in the hall, and + always she stopped to ask him how he was coming on with his ship; but never any more + than that or a brief word as to the weather and his comfort, though there were times + when Jan felt he would like to become better acquainted—times when he even had + a feeling <a name="page226" id="page226"></a><span class="pagenum">[pg 226]</span> + that if he had asked her to sit down somewhere for a talk she would be willing. Jan + had learned, however, that she was married. It had been a shock to learn that. It had + come about by his noticing after three or four days the plain gold ring on the + wedding finger. He had kept staring at it until she could not help remarking it; and + by and by, in a casual sort of way, she had told him she was married.</p> + <p>"And is your husband living, ma'am?" asked Jan.</p> + <p>"He's living—yes," she answered slowly.</p> + <p>That made a difference. Even though a man didn't know anybody in the city except + the men he worked with and it was terribly lonesome of evenings—even so, her + being married made all the difference. And she must have been a wonderfully pretty + girl once—and was pretty yet, now he had a chance to look good at her. + Pretty—yes; but—well, Jan didn't know what it was, except that she was + all right. Jan knew he didn't know much about women, especially strange + women—and he knew, too, that he never would; but he would never believe she + wasn't all right—never!</p> + <p>Yes, it was pretty lonesome at times; and there was the girl who roomed on the top + floor. Jan was thrilled by alluring glimpses of her in the half-dark recesses of the + back halls, but the glimpses remained <a name="page227" id="page227"></a><span + class="pagenum">[pg 227]</span> only glimpses after he saw her one Sunday by + daylight. Only then was Jan convinced that she painted. She was a little too much and + he took to dodging her. Yet it was a pity—oh, a pity! and Jan, still thinking + what a pity, was going out for a lonesome walk one night, when who should meet him on + the front stoop but that same top-floor girl! And no sliding by her this time. She + nipped the lapel of his coat with a dexterous thumb and forefinger.</p> + <p>"Why, hello, cap! Where yuh goin'?"</p> + <p>"Nowheres."</p> + <p>"Then you got time, ain't you, to buy a girl a glass o'—" She stopped and + winked sportively.</p> + <p>"Glass o' what?"</p> + <p>"Why, ginger ale!" She laughed at his surprise. "You thought I was goin' to say + beer, or maybe somethin' stronger, didn't yuh? But I don't drink no hard stuff. No. + An' I was dyin' for a drink o' somethin' when yuh pops out that door. An' I know yuh + ain't any hinge."</p> + <p>"How do you know I ain't a hinge?"</p> + <p>"Oh, don't I? Leave it to me to pick a sport from a piker."</p> + <p>"But I'm no sport either."</p> + <p>"You could if yuh wanted ter. An' yuh ain't any hinge, even if they do say you're + a square-head. Come on an' let's go in back an' have a couple o' bottles o' ginger + ale in Hen's place."</p> + <a name="page228" id="page228"></a><span class="pagenum">[pg 228]</span> + <p>And Jan followed her into the private room beyond the pool-room—the room to + which, as he had gathered before this, the street girls of that section steered + drunken sailors. The ginger ale was brought in by the proprietor himself. Jan threw + down a ten-dollar bill. Jan had a good many bills with him that evening—his + month's wages; and seeing it was the fashion round there to show your money when you + paid for anything, why, he'd show them—even if he was a square-head—that + he could carry a wad too.</p> + <p>"Say, cap, but yuh must be drawin' down good coin?"</p> + <p>"Oh, a boss ship-carpenter gets pretty good wages." And with one splendid sweep + Jan emptied his glass.</p> + <p>"I should say yes. An' there's tinhorners round here that if they had half your + wad Hen'd have to ring in the fire alarm to put 'em out—they'd feel themselves + such warm rags. But what d'yuh say to another ginger ale?"</p> + <p>"Sure," said Jan, and called aloud for them. And again Hen brought in the ginger + ale in two long glasses, but also with two empty bottles to show Jan by the labels + that it was the real imported and no phony stuff; and Jan said, "I know! I know!" as + he paid and waved Hen away.</p> + <p>A door led from this back room into the lower back hall of the house, and in the + shadow of the <a name="page229" id="page229"></a><span class="pagenum">[pg + 229]</span> back hall Jan thought for an instant that he saw the landlady's figure; + but he wasn't sure. Two minutes—or it may have been five minutes—later, a + boy whom Jan had noticed round the house came into the room by way of that same door + and said to the girl:</p> + <p>"Mrs. Goles wants to see you a minute."</p> + <p>"Tell her I got no minute to spare—not now."</p> + <p>The boy went out and quickly came back.</p> + <p>"Mrs. Goles says for you to come out and see her or she'll have the policeman in + off the beat. He's at the corner now."</p> + <p>The girl went out.</p> + <p>"Who's Mrs. Goles?" asked Jan of the boy.</p> + <p>"Why, she's the landlady."</p> + <p>"Oh!" said Jan. So that was her husband, the handsome proprietor with the evil + eyes. "Poor woman!" muttered Jan, and absent-mindedly drank his ginger ale.</p> + <p>The boy was still there. "Where is Mrs. Goles now?" asked Jan.</p> + <p>The boy jerked his head. "Out there on the back stairs."</p> + <p>Jan stood up. "Here!" He handed the boy a quarter. "A wonder a boy like you hangs + out round here!"</p> + <p>"I run Mrs. Goles's errands. I been runnin' 'em since I was a kid. My mother used + to work for her mother. She was a lady."</p> + <a name="page230" id="page230"></a><span class="pagenum">[pg 230]</span> + <p>Jan was heading for the side door, the door which led into the alley.</p> + <p>"Will I tell her you're comin' back, mister?"</p> + <p>"Tell who?"</p> + <p>"Why, that girl you was with."</p> + <p>"Tell her nothing. Nor"—Jan nodded his head toward the pool-room—"him. + Better go home. This is no place for a good boy like you."</p> + <p>Jan went out by the alley; and from there, after peeking to see that nobody was + looking out of the pool-room windows, he stepped quickly up the front steps of the + house.</p> + <p>Cautiously he unlocked the door. He could hear voices, but not distinctly. Quietly + he tiptoed toward the head of the back stairs. It was Mrs. Goles who was talking.</p> + <p>"Didn't I warn you again and again never to bother him?" Jan heard.</p> + <p>"An' why not?"</p> + <p>"Why? He's a lodger—that's why."</p> + <p>"Is that why? Say, but ain't you takin' an awful sudden interest in yer lodgers + though! Are yuh sure you don't want him for yerself? Are yuh sure he ain't something + more than a lodger?"</p> + <p>"You—you—"</p> + <p>"Me—me! Yes, me. D'yuh think I ain't been onto yuh? D'yuh think I ain't seen + any o' that billy-dooin'—you an' him upstairs in the entryway—huh? An' + d'yuh think Hen ain't wise too? <a name="page231" id="page231"></a><span + class="pagenum">[pg 231]</span> D'yuh think he gave me the top-floor room for + nothin'—huh? Oh, yes; we're a couple o' come-ons—Hen an' me—oh, + yes! Run along now, Salomey—he's there, waitin' for me. D'yuh + hear—waitin' for me! They all fall when yuh play 'em right. All of 'em. Thought + yuh had'm to yerself—huh? Well, guess different next time; for he's out there + waitin' for me—the soft-headed Dutchman! Beat it! Beat it when yer gettin' the + worst of it. An' talk any more about a policeman—an' see what Hen says to + it!"</p> + <p>Jan could hear Mrs. Goles ascending the stairs behind him. He hurried up, + intending to get to his room and hide away before she knew, but it was the last key + of the bunch which fitted the lock, and before he had the door opened she was up with + him.</p> + <p>She turned the hall light up to see him better.</p> + <p>"Weren't you downstairs in the back room a minute ago?" she asked at last.</p> + <p>"I was; but—" Jan reached up a heavy hand and rubbed his forehead. "I + was—I know I was; but—" somehow he was feeling bewildered.</p> + <p>She drew nearer to him.</p> + <p>"Come nearer the light. Stand where the light will be on your face. Let me see + your eyes. There—you can't keep them open. Did you drink that second glass of + ginger ale—after it was brought in <a name="page232" id="page232"></a><span + class="pagenum">[pg 232]</span> all opened up? Never mind trying to speak—just + bow your head. You did? Oh, you poor innocent boy! Here—go into your room. And + wait there. I'll be right back. Light the lamp if you can while you're waiting."</p> + <p>Jan managed to light the lamp.</p> + <p>She was soon back with a bowl of something hot which she held to Jan's + lips—a nasty-tasting stuff. While he stopped once to get his breath she stepped + to the door, took the key from the outside and set it on the inside. She stepped to + Jan's side again. "Finish it!" she ordered. "Every drop. There—but + sh-h!—hear'em?"</p> + <p>"Hear what, ma'am?"</p> + <p>"The footsteps—coming upstairs. Creeping up. Hear 'em?" She stepped to the + light and blew it out. She stepped to the door and turned the key.</p> + <p>"Oh-h!" Jan had fallen backward on the bed and now was rolling from side to side. + His stomach was griping him like a burning hand.</p> + <p>"Hold in for a minute if you can!" she whispered</p> + <p>Nausea uncontrollable, as it seemed to Jan, was taking hold of him when a knock + came on the door. "Sh-h!" she warned, and Jan controlled himself. He wanted more than + ever to vomit, but there came another knock on the door—and another. And then + the knob was turned.</p> + <a name="page233" id="page233"></a><span class="pagenum">[pg 233]</span> + <p>A silence then; and then a voice—a man's voice: "I told you you were crazy. + He felt dizzy and went out into the street for some fresh air. You shouldn't 've left + him once he got the stuff into him. Take a look round the block. He's probably laying + in the gutter somewhere with that load into him."</p> + <p>The voice stopped, footsteps followed, the stairs creaked. And Jan's tortured + stomach was allowed its relief. And while he retched in the dark Mrs. Goles held his + head and, soaking a towel in the water jar, bathed his forehead and face and neck, + and kept wetting the towel and bathing his head with the cold water until at last, + with a grateful sigh, Jan stood up and said:</p> + <p>"I think it's all gone now."</p> + <p>"That's good. So I'll be leaving you. And you—" They had been talking in + whispers, but at this point her voice broke into a cough. When she spoke again her + voice was husky and pitched in a higher key. "But you—listen! You must leave + this house!"</p> + <p>"Why must I leave?"</p> + <p>"It's no place for you."</p> + <p>"And is it for you, ma'am?" he asked her.</p> + <p>"For me? No—nor for any woman. But I'm talking about you. + To-morrow—don't say a word to him downstairs—but to-morrow, when your + week's up, take your grip and walk out."</p> + <a name="page234" id="page234"></a><span class="pagenum">[pg 234]</span> + <p>"The day after to-morrow," amended Jan. "Tomorrow's Saturday and I has to be at + the dry dock. But what will become of you?"</p> + <p>"There'll nothing become of me—no more than before."</p> + <p>"He will beat you?"</p> + <p>"Beat me! If he don't any more than beat me!" Jan fancied she was smiling at him + in the dark. "But I'd better go. Good-night."</p> + <p>"Good-night," said Jan. "And I'll see you to-morrow to say good-by."</p> + <p>"Yes," she said. "I'll be about. Good-night."</p> + <p>"Good-night," said Jan again, and found himself standing at the door after it had + opened and closed behind her.</p> + <hr class="short" /> + <p>"I wonder," thought Jan, "if he will beat her!" And he stooped to lock the door. + His hand was on the key, but he did not turn it. Who was that? Jan had keen hearing. + He jammed his ear against the crack. It was the sound of breathing, heavy breathing, + of breathing and tramping, and now—Jan had been listening for perhaps a + minute—of suppressed voices.</p> + <p>Jan stepped back to the washstand and poured out a glass of water. He took it at a + gulp. He had another. It was cold and bracing to his fevered stomach. He stepped to + the door, cautiously turned <a name="page235" id="page235"></a><span + class="pagenum">[pg 235]</span> the knob and slowly drew the door to him. He peeped + out.</p> + <p>Under the hall light he saw them—she jammed back against the stair-rail and + he with his hands at her throat. His back was to Jan.</p> + <p>"Where is it? Come—give up!" he was saying. Jan could not hear what she + said; but the man took a fresh grip and shook her. "Don't tell me anything like that! + You gave in at last and got the money off him. Give it up!"</p> + <p>"I did not! I'm not that kind of a woman—not yet. I may be yet if you keep + on—but I'm not yet. And he's not that kind of a man."</p> + <p>"You're not? And he's not? And you an hour in his room with the door locked! You + got money off him! Give it to me!"</p> + <p>"N-no—no!"</p> + <p>"You lie, you—" He shifted his grip to her hair and started to drag her + along the hall.</p> + <p>Jan stepped softly out, reached his arms round Goles's shoulders, drew them tight + against his own chest; and then, holding him safe with his elbows, he ran his fingers + down until they felt the knuckles of the other's hands. And then he squeezed. With + thumb and forefinger of each hand he squeezed. Jan could pick up a keg of copper + rivets with one thumb and forefinger and toss it across the deck of a ship. And now + he squeezed. Goles hung on. Jan squeezed. The knuckles began <a name="page236" + id="page236"></a><span class="pagenum">[pg 236]</span> to crack. "G-g-g—" + snarled the other and loosed his grip.</p> + <p>Jan relaxed the grip of his thumb and forefinger, swung the man round, walked to + the head of the stairs, raised his left knee, pressed it against the small of Goles's + back, shifted his right hand to behind the man's shoulders and suddenly let knee and + arm shoot out together. In one magnificent curve, and without touching a step on the + way, Goles fetched up on the lower hall floor.</p> + <p>He stood up after a while and made as if to come back upstairs. As he did so Jan + made as if to go down.</p> + <p>Goles glared up at him.</p> + <p>"So it is you!"</p> + <p>"Yes, it's me," said Jan. "Come!"</p> + <p>"Come? No! But you wait there, will you? Just wait there and see what happens to + you! Wait!" And even as he called that last "Wait!" he was running for the back + stairs.</p> + <p>Jan turned to her. She was sitting on the floor with her back against the + stair-rail. Her knees were drawn up, and with elbows on knees she was supporting her + head in her hands.</p> + <p>"Where is he gone to?" asked Jan.</p> + <p>"I don't know—to get his revolver probably."</p> + <p>Jan bent over to see her face. A great listlessness was all he could read + there.</p> + <p>"Would he shoot? Did he ever shoot anybody?"</p> + <a name="page237" id="page237"></a><span class="pagenum">[pg 237]</span> + <p>"Yes—two. But the police never found out. You'd better get out while there's + time."</p> + <p>"And won't he shoot you?"</p> + <p>She raised her head to look at him. "No," she answered presently—"not just + now. He will some day—that's sure. He promised me that more than once, and he + means it; but I don't think he will to-night."</p> + <p>"Then, if ever he meant it, he will to-night," said Jan. "I don't want to get + shot; and I'm going. You better come too." She shook her head. "Yes," He put an arm + under her shoulder. "Come."</p> + <p>"No, no. I mustn't."</p> + <p>"But you must." Jan put his other arm under her and lifted her to her feet; but + yet she lay heavy, half-resisting. "Come," said Jan. "I'll take you out of + here—to my mother."</p> + <p>"Your mother?" she repeated, and straightened up; but almost instantly fell back. + "But we can't now!" she whispered.</p> + <p>"Why?" whispered Jan.</p> + <p>"It's too late. Hear him?" Jan heard steps on the landing below; and as he + listened and looked the light in the hall below went out. "You can't get out the + front door in time now," she said hopelessly.</p> + <p>"There's more ways than front doors to get out of a house. And there's lights to + put out up here <a name="page238" id="page238"></a><span class="pagenum">[pg + 238]</span> too." He reached up and turned down the lamp-wick, then blew out the + flame. "Come," he whispered, and led her into his room and locked the door.</p> + <p>He groped for the bed, tore off the sheets, twisted them tightly and knotted them + together. "There!" he said, and, taking a turn of it under her arms, let her down + from the window into the alley. Then he swept into his suit-case a few things from + the dresser and snapped it, and dropped it out the window.</p> + <p>He was about to fasten one end of the twisted sheets about the bedpost, to let + himself down; but hearing the door-knob slowly turning he did not finish the job. He + dropped the sheet, lowered himself by his hands from the window-sill and let go. He + landed without damage.</p> + <p>"Come," he said, and led the way to the street. At the first corner he turned. At + the next corner he turned. At the third corner a cab was in sight. He helped her + in.</p> + <p>"Do you know," Jan whispered to her, "a good hotel I could tell him to drive + to?"</p> + <p>"With me looking as I am? Why, no. Tell him any hotel we can get into."</p> + <p>Jan addressed the cabman.</p> + <p>"I want"—he said it very distinctly, so that there could be no + mistake—"a good hotel to take a lady to."</p> + <a name="page239" id="page239"></a><span class="pagenum">[pg 239]</span> + <p>"A lady? An' a <i>good</i> hotel? Sure thing. Jump in."</p> + <p>Jan got in and sat opposite to her. She was restoring order to her hair.</p> + <p>"Did the cabby laugh?" she asked.</p> + <p>"No. Why should he?"</p> + <p>"Why?" Jan saw that she was staring at him. Suddenly her stare was transformed to + a soft smile. "Oh-h—sometimes these cabbies think they're funny."</p> + <p>Presently the cab stopped. Jan looked out. It was a hotel, with a wide door and a + narrow one. The narrow door was marked "Ladies' Entrance," and through the transom a + red light shone.</p> + <p>"Wait," said Jan.</p> + <p>He went through the wide door to the desk. "I want a room for a lady," he said to + the clerk.</p> + <p>"Lady? Sure. Four dollars."</p> + <p>Jan paid the four dollars and registered. The clerk touched a bell. A boy bobbed + up.</p> + <p>"I will bring her in by the ladies' entrance," said Jan; but in passing out to the + street he caught a glimpse of a room across the hall—a room with tables, and + men and women at the tables, and drinks on the tables. He halted for a longer look + and went out to the cab finally with a troubled look.</p> + <p>"There's a room for you, but"—he took off his hat and ran his fingers + through his hair—"I don't think you ought to stay here." He had put his <a + name="page240" id="page240"></a><span class="pagenum">[pg 240]</span> head inside the + cab and was speaking low, so that the cabman should not hear. "I don't think it's a + nice place for a lady."</p> + <p>"But"—she almost smiled—"I'm afraid we'll have to put up with it. + Look!" She spread wide her rumpled skirt. Her eyes rolled down to indicate her torn + bodice. With her fingertips she touched the bruises on her face and the marks on her + neck. "And I haven't even a hat on," she concluded with an undoubted smile.</p> + <p>Jan gave in. He paid the cabman, and led her through the ladies' entrance to where + the bell-boy was waiting. The boy led the way upstairs, opened a door and turned on + the light.</p> + <p>"You wait out in the hall," Jan said to the bell-boy. "The lady may want hot water + and things to clean up. You know? The lady"—Jan tapped the boy on the + shoulder—"fell out of a buggy and lost her hat." He handed the boy a dollar + bill. "You understand now?"</p> + <p>The boy tucked the bill away. "I'm wise! I'm wise!" He winked at Jan and left the + room.</p> + <p>Jan turned to her. "I'll have a few things sent up in the morning."</p> + <p>She was standing straight and motionless in the middle of the room.</p> + <p>"You're good," she said, but without looking at him.</p> + <p>"And—oh, my mother! I most forgot her. She <a name="page241" + id="page241"></a><span class="pagenum">[pg 241]</span> lives in Port Rock. To-morrow + night I'll put you aboard the boat for Port Rock. And I won't be able to see you till + then."</p> + <p>"Not till to-morrow night?"</p> + <p>"I has to be at the dry dock early in the morning or they can't start work. + Good-night." He was holding his hat very stiffly in one hand. The other hand he + extended to her.</p> + <p>"Good-night," the woman said, and took his hand and clung to it. Suddenly she + lifted it to her lips and sobbed.</p> + <p>A woman crying and kissing his hand, and all done so suddenly he couldn't stop + it—Jan was shocked at himself. "Sh-h!" said Jan. "Sh-h! You mustn't."</p> + <p>"I will. You're the first man ever came to the house who didn't look at me as if I + was a streetwalker. And he tried his best to make me one. And I fought him—and + fought him; but not a soul to help me. And a woman can't hold out forever. I'd 'a' + killed myself, but I was afraid to die that way. I was beginning to weaken when you + came. And if you had been the wrong kind of a man—"</p> + <p>"Sh-h! Don't say things like that."</p> + <p>"But it's so. And you helped me to get over it. Before I was married I used to + dream of a man like you. But what chance had I in the dance-halls along the + water-front and my people dead? And he was a dance-hall hero, the kind girls used to + <a name="page242" id="page242"></a><span class="pagenum">[pg 242]</span> write notes + to. I was never as bad as that—believe me I wasn't,—but I married him + just the same—at seventeen, and what does a girl know of life at seventeen? And + him! Almost on my wedding-day he began to abuse me."</p> + <p>"No, no!"</p> + <p>"It's true. And when you told me you'd take me to your mother—that was the + first message I'd got in five years from a man except what was meant for my harm. But + a good mother—I'll tell her so she'll understand."</p> + <p>"She'll understand without you telling her. She's brought up a dozen of us and has + grand-children—lots of 'em. Sunday morning you'll be in my mother's house in + Port Rock."</p> + <p>She stooped to kiss his hand again.</p> + <p>"Here! Here—you mustn't!"</p> + <p>"I will—I will! And there! And there! And now good-night."</p> + <p>"Good-night," mumbled Jan. He hurried out of the room and all but fell over the + bell-boy in the hall. "What you hanging round for?" Jan almost hissed. "Go + below."</p> + <p>The bell-boy hurried downstairs and "Say, but that's a new kind of an elopement + for this shack!" he exploded to the clerk, and repeated what he had heard.</p> + <p>The clerk took a look at the register and read: "'Mrs. H.G. Goles, City.' Now I + didn't notice <a name="page243" id="page243"></a><span class="pagenum">[pg + 243]</span> that before. 'Mrs. Goles' he registered, and not himself. Goles? I wonder + if that's Hen's woman? Well, if it is he'll get his good and plenty before Hen's done + with him."</p> + <p>"Yes, and the police'll get Hen. And, say, that Swede ain't such a gink when yuh + get a second look at him."</p> + <p>"I don't know. I didn't get a second look at him; but the way he pulled out that + wad—I charged him four bucks for a dollar-'n'-a-half room. And—"</p> + <p>"S-st!" warned the boy.</p> + <p>It was Jan re-entering the office.</p> + <p>"What's wrong?" demanded the clerk.</p> + <p>"Paper and envelope, please," said Jan.</p> + <p>"Oh!" The clerk looked relieved and passed them over. Jan took out a carpenter's + thick-leaded pencil and wrote on the sheet of paper: "You must buy some things for + the trip on the boat." He looked at the clerk and then at the boy, and went out into + the hall, folded one ten-dollar bill and two twenty-dollar bills inside the sheet, + sealed and addressed the envelope, and brought it in to the boy.</p> + <p>"You take this up to the lady. Give it to her and hurry away before she can open + it. And if you are back in two minutes—"</p> + <p>The boy was back in less time. Jan gave him half a dollar and passed out into the + street.</p> + <a name="page244" id="page244"></a><span class="pagenum">[pg 244]</span> + <hr /> + <h3>THE PORT ROCK BOAT</h3> + <p>The Port Rock boat was due <i>to</i> leave her dock. The first mate made his way + to the upper deck. He found his captain in the pilot-house, studying the + barometer.</p> + <p>"Freight all aboard, sir."</p> + <p>"All right," nodded the captain; "but did you hear about the storm flags being + up?"</p> + <p>"So I heard, sir."</p> + <p>"M-m! Close that door. It's cold." The mate closed the door; but almost + immediately the captain raised a window and gazed down the harbor. "It looks bad to + me," he said after a while.</p> + <p>"It is a bad-looking night," assented the mate.</p> + <p>"A wicked night!" barked the captain; and gathering one end of his moustache + between his teeth, began to chew on it.</p> + <p>The mate pursed his lips. "What will I do, sir?"</p> + <p>The captain stopped chewing his moustache. "It all comes down to dollars and + cents. Use our judgment and stay tied up to the dock here and it's go hunt another + berth. Do you want to hunt another job?"</p> + <p>"Not me. I got a family to look after."</p> + <p>"N' me. We'll put out."</p> + <p>"All right, sir." The mate descended to the <a name="page245" + id="page245"></a><span class="pagenum">[pg 245]</span> wharf. "In with that freight + runway and plank!" he called out to the waiting longshoremen. "And you"—a + colored steward was at his elbow—"tell 'em all aboard on the dock and all + ashore on the boat that's goin' ashore."</p> + <p>The steward voiced the mate's instructions; the last passenger came aboard and the + last friend went ashore. The gangplank was hauled in, the lines cast off and the Port + Rock steamer slid out from her slip.</p> + <p>She was well down the harbor before Jan took a piece of paper from his pocket. + "Number two hundred and seventy-six," he read. "That's it—two hundred and + seventy-six." And seeking out the number he knocked on the door. It opened slightly + and Jan saw peeking out at him the lips, chin and half an eye each side of the nose + of a pretty and well-dressed girl. Jan looked up at the number over the door again to + see if he had made a mistake. Then the door opened more widely—and it was she, + smiling out at him; but so rosy and terribly pretty that Jan felt afraid and drew + back.</p> + <p>"I thought maybe you would like to get out for some fresh air soon," he + stammered.</p> + <p>"I was just trying on the new hat I bought with the money you sent up last + night—and a shirtwaist and a lovely long coat. How did you get through the + night?"</p> + <a name="page246" id="page246"></a><span class="pagenum">[pg 246]</span> + <p>"Fine! I went over to the dry dock and turned into a bunk on the schooner."</p> + <p>She made a mouth at the mirror. "That was no place to sleep. You should have taken + a comfortable room at the hotel."</p> + <p>Jan was silent.</p> + <p>"Yes, you should. I'll be right out."</p> + <p>She came out, but with her face veiled, and clung close to him as they walked the + deck. Jan sniffed the air.</p> + <p>"Snow, I think," he said.</p> + <p>"Meaning a storm? I was never in a storm. Are they terrible?"</p> + <p>"A storm is nothing," said Jan, "when you get used to them. But will we go in to + supper?"</p> + <p>They went in. The boat was now outside the harbor and pitching slightly.</p> + <p>She did not eat much and at length laid down her knife and fork."</p> + <p>"Sea-sick?" asked Jan.</p> + <p>"No. I must be too frightened to be sea-sick."</p> + <p>"Frightened of what?"</p> + <p>"Of him." She leaned across the table. "I'm sure I saw him. Yes—spying + through the window of my room just before I left it just now."</p> + <p>Jan tranquilly went on eating. "He can't hurt you aboard a boat."</p> + <p>"I don't mind that, so he won't hurt you."</p> + <a name="page247" id="page247"></a><span class="pagenum">[pg 247]</span> + <p>Jan shook his head. "He won't because he can't on here without getting + caught."</p> + <p>They stepped outside at last. Cozy enough in the dining-room; but outside the snow + was now thick enough to show white on deck where the passengers had not tramped it + down. They sought the open space in the bow—Jan to see how it looked ahead and + Mrs. Goles to feel the fresh gale blowing in her face.</p> + <p>"It's a north-east snow-storm," said Jan, "and coming thicker. But no danger. + No—no danger," he repeated quickly, with a glance at her.</p> + <p>"It's not danger of a storm I fear," she said simply. She was peering, not ahead + at the darkening, rising sea but at the form and face of every muffled-up passenger + who came near them.</p> + <p>Not many passengers were venturing onto the open deck; and those who did were + wrapped high and close, with hardly more than their eyes showing out. "If he comes on + us he will come like that—coat collar to his ears and hat over his eyes," she + thought as one after another so wrapped appeared and passed; and almost with the + thought, catching sight of a lurking man's figure in the passageway between the + paddle-box and the outside row of state-rooms, she added aloud: "Let us go up on the + top deck."</p> + <a name="page248" id="page248"></a><span class="pagenum">[pg 248]</span> + <p>"It will be pretty cold and rough for you up there," suggested Jan.</p> + <p>"Never mind; let us go there." A man could not very well hide on the more open top + deck, was what she had in mind.</p> + <p>They could hardly keep their feet on the top deck. An officer in passing warned + them sharply to be careful. She looked after him scornfully. "As if you weren't more + at home on the sea than any of them!" she said proudly.</p> + <p>The wind on the top deck was blowing a gale. The snow was pouring down. Another + officer bumped into them. "This is no place for passengers!" he yelled. "Better go + below and inside the house!" And he hurried on.</p> + <p>"Excited, ain't he?" said Jan. "But maybe we better go below too. But let's go + round by the lee side—this way."</p> + <p>In passing the pilot-house a window above them was thrown open and a man's face + thrust through, and a man's voice said:</p> + <p>"We'll never make Port Rock to-night, not against this gale and snow. And no use + trying to see anything ahead."</p> + <p>Jan peered up through the dark and the snow to see who it might be. Against the + light in the pilot-house he could distinguish the head and shoulders of the + captain.</p> + <a name="page249" id="page249"></a><span class="pagenum">[pg 249]</span> + <p>"Then we'd better put in somewhere for the night, hadn't we?" Jan knew that for + the mate's voice.</p> + <p>"Put in where?"</p> + <p>"I don't know—Gloucester, maybe?"</p> + <p>"Gloucester? And how does Gloucester bear now?—tell me that. And how does + any port bear now?—tell me that, too. Suppose we did know, would you try to + take her into Gloucester harbor on a night like this? Gloucester!"</p> + <p>"Sh-h! There's something," said the other voice.</p> + <p>The voices were hushed. Two long moans came over the sea.</p> + <p>"Wait for them again. And time 'em." The captain's voice that.</p> + <p>Mrs. Goles stepped closer to Jan. "Does it mean there's danger to the ship?" she + asked in a low voice in Jan's ear.</p> + <p>"No, no. But listen!"</p> + <p>One long moan and one short moan came fitfully over the sea.</p> + <p>"Thatcher's Island steam-whistle," said the captain's voice. "An' bearing so." So + thick was the night with snow that Jan had to strain his sight to make out the + mittened hand and coatsleeve stretching out through the window over his head.</p> + <p>Jan felt the wind whipping him on the other side, <a name="page250" + id="page250"></a><span class="pagenum">[pg 250]</span> and with that there came from + the pilot-house: "Well, if that ain't the devil's own luck! Here's the wind makin' + into the north-west and the chief whistlin' up half-steam's all he can keep on + her!"</p> + <p>"Ain't it always something wrong! I told 'em about them boilers—that they + been leakin' right along. What will we do?"</p> + <p>"Only one thing to do now. Run her before it. Besides, she'll be blown offshore + soon now. Run her across the bay. South-south-east. She ought to fetch + Provincetown."</p> + <p>"Yes, sir. But when we get out from under the lee of the land what'll happen?"</p> + <p>"I don't know; but I do know what'll happen to her bumpin' over the rocks of this + shore on a night like this!"</p> + <p>Jan touched Mrs. Goles's arm. "We better go below now, I think. And you better go + to your room and wrap up in any warm clothes you have—two pairs of stockings, + if you have them, and things like that. To be ready for accidents, you know. And wait + for me in the saloon."</p> + <p>"So there is danger?"</p> + <p>"You must not be thinking of that; but it is foolish not to be ready for + accidents. And while you are dressing up I will take a look round."</p> + <p>"Oh, suppose he is aboard! Won't you watch out for him?"</p> + <a name="page251" id="page251"></a><span class="pagenum">[pg 251]</span> + <p>"It's him has to watch out for me on a night like this," said Jan—"and maybe + watch out for more than me."</p> + <hr class="short" /> + <p>Jan went to his room and put on his extra suit of underwear, and over his vest he + drew his sweater. From his suit-case he took his mother's photograph and tucked it in + his inside pocket. Then he went up again to the top deck and located a + life-raft—made the rounds of the boat-deck and located the life-boats.</p> + <p>It was time now to study the storm. The snow was not so thick, but the sea was + making and the wind colder and stronger. A gale from the northwest it would be when + they were out in the open bay; and, besides the wind getting stronger the sea would + be higher. And it was as high now as was good for this old-fashioned side-wheeler + with her old-time single engine.</p> + <p>Jan shook his head and, still shaking his head, once more made the rounds of the + boat-deck. Eight boats; and each boat might hold twenty-five people—that is, if + it was in a mill-pond. But a night like this—how many—even if the running + gear were sound? "No, no," said Jan to himself, and reinspected the lone life-raft on + the top deck. Two cigar-shaped steel air-cylinders with a thin connecting deck was + the life-raft. Jan had seen better ones; but a raft, at least, would not capsize.</p> + <a name="page252" id="page252"></a><span class="pagenum">[pg 252]</span> + <p>He descended to the main deck, to where, in the gangway between house and rail, he + could find a little quiet and think things over. While there, amidships, a sea swept + up under the paddle-wheel casing. It boomed like a gun. With it went some crackling. + Again a booming—again a crackling. The boat broached to. Sea-water was running + the length of her deck.</p> + <p>From out of the snow and night another sea came; and this one came straight + aboard, roaring as it came. Jan knew what it meant—there is always the first + sea by itself. Not long now before there would be another.</p> + <p>And not long before there was another.</p> + <p>And soon there would be a hundred of them, one racing after the other. And a + thousand more of them—only this rust-eaten hull, with her scrollwork topsides, + would not hold together long enough to see a thousand of them.</p> + <p>Jan tried to figure out how far they were from the Cape Cod shore. Ten, fifteen, + twenty miles. Call it twenty. Jan doubted if she would live to get there, even with + the gale behind her.</p> + <p>He walked round the house to look into the lighted saloon. She was there—the + poor girl—sitting patiently by herself. Long before this the orchestra had + given up playing and only a dozen passengers or so were there; but she was the only + lone one—in a red plush chair under a cluster of <a name="page253" + id="page253"></a><span class="pagenum">[pg 253]</span> wall-lights. Besides the + passengers, there was one steward and a colored maid, both staring together through + the lighted window.</p> + <p>Jan's feet were wet. He went down to the bar, where he called for a drink of + ginger ale and a pint flask of brandy. "Of your best," he added.</p> + <p>Leaning against the bar he listened to the loungers there. Four of them were at a + table under a window which looked out on the open deck. One was struggling in a loud + voice with what should have been a funny story. His companions neglected no chance to + laugh, but after each laugh they hastily sipped their drinks. At intervals the wind + would shriek and at each shriek they would look past each other with exaggerated + calmness; but when the sea pounded the hull, and the spray splashed thickly against + the window over their heads, they would look up at the window or across at the door. + And when the boat would roll down and, rolling, threaten to dump them all on the + floor, they would grab the table and yell "Whoa!" or "Wait a second!" with just a + suggestion of hysteria in their throats; and somebody would call out, "Go on with the + story, Joe!" and the story-teller would hasten to resume.</p> + <p>Jan turned to the bartender, who was filling waiting stewards' hurried orders + calmly if not impassively. After every heavy sea he would stop pouring <a + name="page254" id="page254"></a><span class="pagenum">[pg 254]</span> or mixing to + glance with unaffected interest at the beams above him or the door opening onto the + deck. He was an undersized man with lean, pale cheeks, a hard chin, and a bright, + cold eye. Once he looked fairly at Jan and Jan looked fairly at him. It was like an + introduction.</p> + <p>"You a sea-going man?" he asked.</p> + <p>"I used to go to sea," admitted Jan.</p> + <p>"I thought so. But those there,"—he lowered his voice and leaned across the + bar to Jan,—"they don't know whether this is a real bad gale or just the + reg'lar thing. One of 'em says a while ago: 'This is the kind of weather I like!' I + bet it's his first trip. But most of the passengers, the stewards tell me, are turned + in, trying to forget it."</p> + <p>"Better for 'em," said Jan.</p> + <p>"Maybe so, too; but what do you think of it?"</p> + <p>Jan shook his head. "I will be glad when morning comes."</p> + <p>"Same here. I've seen it as bad as this a couple of times before." He picked up + Jan's bill. "But this old shoe box ain't getting any younger. Here's your brandy. + It's good stuff—don't be afraid of it. Seventy-five and + fifteen—ninety."</p> + <p>"Have a cigar," said Jan, "and finish the dollar."</p> + <p>"Thanks. I will. But I'll smoke it later, when it's quieter, if it's all the same + to you." He rang <a name="page255" id="page255"></a><span class="pagenum">[pg + 255]</span> up a dollar on the cash register and turned to a new-comer who had ranged + up beside Jan.</p> + <p>"Brandy," said the new-comer.</p> + <p>As Jan thrust his flask in his inside coat-pocket he flashed a sidewise glance at + the man drinking. The man was buttoned up to his eyes, but Jan thought he knew the + voice. Jan buttoned up his own coat, said "Good-night" to the bartender and went out + on deck, from where, through the window, he could view the customer at the bar.</p> + <p>Jan saw him empty his glass and motion for another drink. He drank that, paid, and + turned to go. Jan caught a front glimpse of his face. It was Goles. Jan also saw that + the bartender was looking curiously after him.</p> + <p>Jan waited for him outside. As he came almost abreast, the ship heaved and the two + men fell against each other, while a great splash of sea-water drenched them. Again a + roll and jump, and Goles would have fallen had not Jan held him upright. Goles gave + him no thanks, but he said huskily: "I heard one of the sailors say she's a goner." + With Jan holding on to Goles, the two men were swaying and stumbling to the boat's + heavy rolling and heaving.</p> + <p>"I don't know about that," said Jan; "but she's in a bad way. And it's going to be + worse, I think."</p> + <p>"That's what the sailor said," muttered Goles.</p> + <a name="page256" id="page256"></a><span class="pagenum">[pg 256]</span> + <p>"So if you want to shoot anybody you better wait till we're safe—to-morrow + maybe. And your wife—But watch out!"</p> + <p>The sea washed fairly over them both. With the wave went a broken rail and part of + the splintered house. Following the crashing of the wood and glass came the + frightened questions and the patter of excited people running out of their rooms. The + story-telling group from the barroom came as one man. The glass of the window over + their heads had been showered on to their table. The bartender stopped only to empty + his cash register, stuff the money in his pocket, and get into a great coat; then he + came running out too. Bottles and glasses were breaking behind him as he ran.</p> + <p>"Come," said Jan. Goles followed. Jan went up and looked into the saloon. There + she was, still waiting. "You stay here and I will bring her out," said Jan to + Goles—"and don't you open your mouth when you see her."</p> + <p>Goles made no sign. He was gripping the house railing and his face was to the + sea.</p> + <p>"Thank God for the sight of you!" she said to Jan as he came in. "Is the ship + going down?"</p> + <p>"Not yet. But your husband is outside. He won't say anything. Don't you either. + And when—Hold hard!"</p> + <p>The deck bounded up under them. She gripped <a name="page257" + id="page257"></a><span class="pagenum">[pg 257]</span> Jan's coat and Jan gripped a + chair that was screwed to the floor; and then the deck rolled far down and Jan's + chair came loose, and both were thrown across the saloon. "She is breaking up!" + thought Jan. A moment later it seemed to Jan as if all the passengers in the ship had + suddenly awakened and were trying to crowd into the place. A ship's officer and some + stewards also came running in. The stewards had life-preservers, which they were + buckling on to themselves. They remained; but the officer, after a look around, ran + out again.</p> + <p>The boat rolled back on her keel. Jan led Mrs. Goles to the outer deck. Goles was + there. "Come!" ordered Jan, and led the way to an iron ladder. The boat rolled far to + one side and again far to the other. Mrs. Goles felt as if she were clinging to the + tail of a kite, but still she clung to Jan; and Jan at last made the upper deck with + her. He had forgotten her husband; but when he turned to look back the muffled form + was there at his heels.</p> + <p>Jan groped his way to where the life-raft was lashed to the deck. He ordered Mrs. + Goles to sit down on the raft. Goles sat down beside her. Goles seemed bereft of all + volition.</p> + <p>"You wait here till I come back," Jan said to him and turning to go below, bumped + into another man.</p> + <p>"Hello! Is this you?" said the other man. "I <a name="page258" + id="page258"></a><span class="pagenum">[pg 258]</span> thought I saw you come up + here. 'And there's the man,' I says to myself, 'to tie to to-night!'"</p> + <p>Jan recognized the bartender. "You're just the man I want, too," said Jan. He dove + into his pocket and drew out a revolver. "Here, take this."</p> + <p>"A gun!"</p> + <p>"Yes—and loaded. Watch that man on the raft. And if he tries to hurt that + woman or not let her on that raft if the boat goes down, shoot him!"</p> + <p>"You mean it?"</p> + <p>"Yes. He's bad! He's the man who was drinking in your place a few minutes + ago—after me."</p> + <p>"Oh, him! Yes; he's bad, all right. He's been drinking raw brandy since seven + o'clock. I was noticin' him."</p> + <p>"Don't shoot him unless you have to. And don't let him see me passing it to you. + I'm going to get a few more people up to the raft."</p> + <p>"All right—but—Wow! I never shot a man in my life."</p> + <p>Jan had hardly reached the saloon when the great crash came. He was swept away + before it. Boom! it was—and again, crash! Now he heard the smothered appeals of + people being swept overboard! Crackling wood was following the crash of every sea, + and each sea receded only to let the next one strike even more heavily. It was now + nothing but solid water that was coming aboard.</p> + <a name="page259" id="page259"></a><span class="pagenum">[pg 259]</span> + <p>Her buoyancy had left her. Her roll had become a wallow. She was settling. "The + water's in her hold!" thought Jan, and took a quick look about. All kinds and all + ages—but there was one girl with an expression on her face that startled + him.</p> + <p>In fine but sodden clothes she was sitting, heedless of every person but the young + man standing dumbly beside her. "And I told them I was going to stay with a girl + friend out of town over Sunday," she was saying. "And now they'll know. Whether we're + drowned or not they'll know. Everybody will know and what will they say?"</p> + <p>Near the girl were a young man and a woman locked in each other's arms. Jan judged + them to be a bridal couple. They were saying nothing—just holding each other + and waiting. He hesitated an instant and then he saw a woman with a baby. She was + leaning heavily against a stanchion crooning to the baby. He now saw that she was + almost a middle-aged woman, a poorly dressed and toil-worn woman—a Finnish + woman probably. Jan's doubt was gone. He jumped to her side. "Want to save your + baby?" The woman looked up at him and down at the baby. "Baby!" she said, and held it + toward Jan. "Yes, save baby," she said. "Come!" said Jan, and grasped her hand. Then + the lights went out.</p> + <a name="page260" id="page260"></a><span class="pagenum">[pg 260]</span> + <p>Jan had marked the ladder in his mind, and in the dark he made his way toward it; + but before he could get to it there were many adventures. He went floundering this + way and that, but holding the baby in one arm and dragging the mother with the other, + he held on until he bumped into a stanchion in the dark. "It's near here," he + thought; and, reaching out with his feet, he found the bottom step of the ladder.</p> + <p>He had two decks to surmount. On the boat-deck, as he passed up, he could hear the + ship's men shouting wildly and foolishly to each other. On the top deck he found the + three just as he had left them. He gave the woman and baby into the care of the + bartender and felt about until he found a coil of rope. He cut it loose and, carrying + it back to the raft, lashed Mrs. Goles to a ring. Then, taking off his ulster, he + wrapped it round the mother and baby, and lashed her. Then he lashed the bartender + and Goles, and took a loose turn about a ring for himself. Then he waited.</p> + <p>It came soon enough. A large section of the top deck floated clear of the upper + works. Jan stayed by the floating deck until he felt that the steamer was surely sunk + beneath them. Then he cut the raft clear of everything and let her drift.</p> + <p>The raft was swirled from wave to wave. The <a name="page261" + id="page261"></a><span class="pagenum">[pg 261]</span> spray broke over them. "We'll + get wet," said Jan; "but one thing—she won't capsize!"</p> + <p>The seas curled and boomed about them; but no solid seas rolled over them. The + raft mounted every roaring white crest as if it were swinging from an aeroplane. The + spray never failed to drench them and with every heaving sea came bits of wreckage + that threatened them; but at least they were living, and not a living soul besides + themselves had come away.</p> + <h3>THE RAFT</h3> + <p>The clouds raced low above them; but by and by the clouds passed away and clear + and cold shone a moon on a terrifying sea. And so for hours—until the moon had + gone and the struggling daylight revealed a surf breaking high on a sandy shore. They + could not land there; so Jan took the long oar and wielded it over one end of the + raft and held her parallel to the beach until he descried a point reaching out into + the bay. On the other side of that point would be a lee and safety; but he said + nothing of that to his companions yet.</p> + <p>In the middle of the raft lay Goles, huddled and silent as ever. Mrs. Goles, at + the farther end of the raft, was mostly watching Jan as he heaved on the oar; but + sometimes she seemed to be studying her <a name="page262" id="page262"></a><span + class="pagenum">[pg 262]</span> husband. The Finn woman, nearest to Jan, was hugging + her baby to her under Jan's great coat. She, too, when she was not watching her baby, + was looking at Jan. The bartender, between Jan and Goles, was looking out for marks + ashore.</p> + <p>The bartender was also thinking that the two other men were about the same age, + and yet the man in the middle of the raft, when he let his face be seen, looked the + older by ten years. All night long he had not spoken and he seldom raised his + head—when he did it was to gaze at the land. He seemed to be taking but small + notice of anybody. Toward the bartender, who was behind him, he had not once turned + his head.</p> + <p>Jan worked on the long oar. The point of land was coming nearer. "A hard drag yet; + but we'll be there by sunrise!" said Jan in a low voice to the bartender; at which + Goles looked round suddenly—but said nothing.</p> + <p>At last they were under the lee of the point. The sea was beautifully smooth. Jan + stopped sculling and went forward to Mrs. Goles. "The tide has her," he said. "Soon + she will be in and we will all be safe!" She looked back at her husband.</p> + <p>The bartender stood up and shouted aloud. "Safe—hah! Say, but ain't it like + looking at something in a moving picture though?" He stuck a hand into his coat + pocket and pulled out Jan's <a name="page263" id="page263"></a><span + class="pagenum">[pg 263]</span> revolver. He stared at it; then, with a low whistle + and a glance at Goles's back, he returned it to his pocket. Only the Finn woman had + seen the action.</p> + <p>The bartender shoved a hand into his trousers pocket. He pulled out a handful of + bills and silver. "Well, what do you know? And I came near putting that into the safe + last night!" He unbuttoned his coat and from his vest pocket he pulled out a cigar. + "Well, what do you know?" He next drew out a metallic match-case. "Well, + well—dry too!" He lit his cigar, took three or four puffs, contentedly sat + down, and began smoothing out and counting the damp bills. "Well, + well!—forty-five, fifty-five, sixty, seventy—the only time in my life I + ever beat a cash register! Seventy-two—four—and on a good night there'd a + been three times the business—eight-four—six—eight. Eighty-eight + dollars."</p> + <p>Goles looked over his shoulder at the bartender. He wet his lips and stood up. + After a time he threw off his overcoat. "How about a drink from that flask?" he asked + suddenly.</p> + <p>Jan, without looking around, drew the flask from his pocket and handed it to him. + He had already given the two men a drink each—and the Finn woman and Mrs. Goles + two swallows of it during the night; and almost half the brandy was now gone. Goles + put the flask to his lips. The bartender <a name="page264" id="page264"></a><span + class="pagenum">[pg 264]</span> stopped counting his silver to watch him; and, seeing + it go, he called out: "Say there, Bill, just leave a taste of that, will you?" Goles + drank it to the last drop. When he had finished he threw the empty flask overboard. + "Well, if you ain't one fine gentleman!" exploded the bartender.</p> + <p>Goles paid no attention to him. "How long before we'll be ashore now?" he + asked.</p> + <p>"Only a few minutes now," said Jan. He was still standing with his back to + Goles.</p> + <p>"A few minutes?" repeated Goles. At the words his wife turned sharply. Husband and + wife stared at each other.</p> + <p>"There's the sun coming over the sand-hill now," said Jan. She turned to look + shoreward.</p> + <p>The bartender, counting and chuckling over his money, felt a hand shaking the tip + of his sleeve. It was the Finn woman. She pointed a finger toward Goles. The + bartender saw Goles's hand come out of his bosom with a revolver.</p> + <p>"So long as we're safe," said Goles slowly, "you're going to get yours—and + get it now, you—"</p> + <p>Jan was looking at the shore, but Mrs. Goles had turned with the first word and + thrown herself toward Goles as he fired. Mrs. Goles fell before the bullet. "I was + going to get her anyway," said Goles evenly, and leveled his revolver at Jan, who <a + name="page265" id="page265"></a><span class="pagenum">[pg 265]</span> had jumped to + save her from falling overboard and was now holding her away from Goles.</p> + <p>"I got you where there's no comeback!" gritted Goles, and took careful aim at + Jan!—but did not fire. He felt a ring of cold metal pressed against his neck + and half turned to see what it was. "Don't shoot! Don't!" he begged.</p> + <p>"You—" The word the bartender gritted out could not be heard, because he + pulled the trigger as he said it.</p> + <p>Goles sagged down until his knees rested on the deck. Then he fell forward and + over the side of the raft. There was the gentlest of splashes, a patch of red—a + cluster of bubbles which burst like sighs.</p> + <p>"Well!" said the bartender, and held up the revolver in wonder. "I never thought + I'd live to kill a man!" He looked to see how the others had taken it, but they were + paying no attention to him. He saw Jan holding the baby and trying to hush its little + cries for its mother, while the baby's mother was pressing the tips of her fingers + gently against the upper part of the injured woman's right breast.</p> + <p>"You mustn't die! You mustn't die!" Jan said when the baby would let him.</p> + <p>"I don't want to die—not now!" she answered.</p> + <p>The Finn woman looked up and smiled at Jan. "Not die. No, no—not die."</p> + <a name="page266" id="page266"></a><span class="pagenum">[pg 266]</span> + <p>The raft grounded gently on the beach. Jan took the wounded girl and set out for + the top of the sand-hill with her. The bartender took the baby and toiled behind with + its mother.</p> + <p>"Say," said the bartender, "you're all right! How many more children to home?"</p> + <p>"Home?" She held up seven fingers. "And him," pointing to the baby.</p> + <p>"Great Stork! Here!" He set down the baby, drew out the bar-money and offered it + to her. "When a ship goes down, I heard a sea-lawyer say once, all debts go with her. + And that must mean all credits go too. Anyhow we'll make it so now. Here—for + you."</p> + <p>"Me? No, no. I have husband. Fine job—dollar-half day."</p> + <p>"Dollar an' a half! It's too much for the father of eight children for one day! + But this—see. For baby. And the Lord knows a baby who came through last night + and never a yip out of him, he oughter get a million. Here—put in + bank—for baby."</p> + <p>"Ah-h! For baby. Tenk you." She beamed and took the money. "You brave man! + Him"—pointing to Jan's back—"brave man too."</p> + <p>"Him, brave—yes. But me? No, no. Me scared blue. He'd 'a' shot me next only + I beat him to it."</p> + <a name="page267" id="page267"></a><span class="pagenum">[pg 267]</span> + <p>"Kill baby too." She kissed the baby.</p> + <hr class="short" /> + <p>The sun was well up when they reached the top of the hill—a pale, + frightened-looking sun, but nevertheless a sun. The bartender took off his cap and + saluted it gravely. Below them lay the town.</p> + <p>"We'll go down there," said Jan to Mrs. Goles, "and from there, when you're well, + we'll go home—to my mother. But," he added gravely, "we will go by train."</p> + <p>She smiled weakly at him. "I could go without a train—on my hands and knees + I could crawl to the mother of you! You don't know it, but when I was growing up it + was a man like you I always used to dream about. And I'm not sure I'm not dreaming + now!"</p> + <p>"Don't worry," said the bartender. "We're all awake—and alive. And you bet + it's great to be alive again! Ain't it,"—he turned to the Finn + woman,—"you mother of eight?"</p> + <p>The Finn woman made no answer. She was nursing her baby.</p> + <hr /> + <a name="page269" id="page269"></a><span class="pagenum">[pg 269]</span> + <h2>Cogan Capeador</h2> + <p>Eight bells had gone, the morning watch was done, it was almost time to eat, and + so Kieran, the pump-man, laid aside the tools of his berth and came strolling aft; + and swinging down the long gangway he sang:</p> + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="line"> + "There was a girl,—I knew her well,—a girl in Zanzibar— + </div> + <div class="line"> + A bulgeous man of science said you bet her avatar + </div> + <div class="line"> + Was Egypt's Cleopatra—and from off a man-o'-war + </div> + <div class="line"> + I met her first—and O, her eyes! A blazing polar star! + </div> + <div class="line"> + From which you couldn't head away no more than you could fly— + </div> + <div class="line"> + Gypsy one of Zanzy! For you who wouldn't die!" + </div> + </div> + </div> + <p>It was one of those fine days in the Gulf of Mexico. Abreast of the ship the + Florida reefs, low-crested, ragged, and white, loomed above the smooth sea.</p> + <p>Kieran contemplated the line of reefs; presently he leaned over the taffrail and + stared down at the whirling propeller; from the screws his gaze shifted to the + whirling water above and about them, and thence to the tow in their wake. He put his + head to one side, studied the spectacle of the straining hawser and the wallowing + barge on the end of it, as if it were a mysterious problem.</p> + <a name="page272" id="page272"></a><span class="pagenum">[pg 272]</span> + <p>"Oh-h, shucks!" He sighed and came suddenly out of his reverie, looked up at the + sky, turned wearily inboard, and sat himself on one of the towing bitts.</p> + <p>The passenger, from the other towing bitt, asked what it was.</p> + <p>"I was just thinking that some of us are tied to the end of a string, just like + that barge, and we don't know it any more than she does, and no more able to help + ourselves than she can—sometimes."</p> + <p>"I never looked at a towing barge in that light before," said the passenger, and + lit a cigar. He made no offer of one to Kieran, because he had before this learned + that Kieran never smoked.</p> + <p>The ship rolled, the barge yawed, the reefs kept sliding by. The passenger stole a + look at the pump-man, and ventured: "Kieran, there used to be, a few years ago, a + sprinter, pole-vaulter, and jumper, competing under the name of Campbell in the + Hibernian and Caledonian games up north, and you're a ringer for him."</p> + <p>Kieran glanced sidewise at the passenger. "You must have been in athletics + yourself—seems to me I've seen you somewhere too."</p> + <p>"Maybe. My name's Benson."</p> + <p>"I remember—a sprinter. And a good one, too."</p> + <p>"Good enough—with no Wefers or Duffey, or somebody like yourself around," + protested the passenger, <a name="page273" id="page273"></a><span class="pagenum">[pg + 273]</span> but immensely pleased nevertheless to be identified after so many years. + And they were both pleased and exchanged rapid comment on a dozen incidents of + athletic days; and when two ex-athletes get together they run on interminably.</p> + <p>By and by, but not prematurely, the passenger asked, "But <i>was</i> there a girl + at Zanzibar?"</p> + <p>Kieran made no reply. He seemed to be considering the matter of the barge. After a + time he went to the quarter-rail and gazed forward. He came back to his bitt. "I + thought so. There's one of those wreckers up ahead. They're always along + here—standing by or cruising for any loose wreckage." He waved his hand toward + the reefs. "Look. Where their crests don't pierce the surface you know they're there + by the surf playing over 'em. Where they lie a little deeper the paler green of the + sea shows 'em up. In the deep pockets in between—see?—the sea's of a + beautiful deep blue. That's all easy enough, isn't it, but where the drifting clouds + shut out the sunlight, where the shadows fall it's all of a color, isn't it? No + saying then where it's deep water and where it is shoal. It's the clouds. If the + light was always good, there'd be few wrecks along here. And"—he waved toward + the barge astern—"there she is tied to us. If this ship piles up on the reefs, + she piles up behind us."</p> + <p>"Couldn't they cut her adrift?"</p> + <a name="page274" id="page274"></a><span class="pagenum">[pg 274]</span> + <p>"H-m-m—a drifting barge and the Florida Keys tide-water, where would she + fetch up?" And, after a pause, "no fault of hers either, and that seems hard, too. + But there's that wrecker—listen."</p> + <p>A hailing voice came floating aft to them. "Ain't seen nothing 'long de + way—nothin' to th' east'ard, has you, capt'n?"</p> + <p>"No, I didn't see nothin'. And if I did, d'y' s'pose I'd tell you, you + green-sided, patch-sailed whelp's loafer of a black pirate, do you?"</p> + <p>Without turning their heads Kieran and the passenger could hear their captain's + voice from the bridge, and also without turning their heads they shortly saw the + wrecking schooner slide past their quarter. She <i>was</i> green-painted and her + sails <i>were</i> a scandal, and it <i>was</i> a very black and big negro who was + standing in her waist to catch the reply, and it was very like their captain to + answer as he did.</p> + <p>The big negro only flashed his teeth and waved his arm. His little vessel went + drifting astern.</p> + <p>"Pirates and wreckers—look pretty much like honest people, don't they?" + commented Kieran. "And they are mostly. At least I've bunked with 'em—white + ones, though—and I found 'em pretty much like you and me—except for their + ideas in that and maybe one or two other lines. And most people, when you come to + know them, aren't so <a name="page275" id="page275"></a><span class="pagenum">[pg + 275]</span> different, except in one way—or maybe two or three ways in some + cases. Don't you think so?"</p> + <p>The passenger countered with another question. "You've met a good many different + kinds of people in your time, haven't you?"</p> + <p>The pump-man nodded. After a pause he added, "A few," in an absent manner.</p> + <p>The low-lying reefs sank out of sight, and far astern the green-painted schooner + merged into the mists. It was a warm, pleasant day.</p> + <p>Kieran roused himself. "No, there wasn't any girl in Zanzibar. If there had been, + a fellow couldn't be advertising her to the crew of an oil-tanker at high-noon, could + he? No! But there <i>was</i> a girl, and there was a friend of mine—call him + Cogan. Oh, not a bad fellow—no worse, maybe no better, than you or I, or most + any of the old crowd we used to know, and he happened to drift down the Isthmus + way—into Colon—during the Revolution. Ever there?"</p> + <p>"Once, just after the Revolution."</p> + <p>"And what did you think of it—the Revolution?"</p> + <p>"M-m—it surely did happen most opportunely for our interests."</p> + <p>"Didn't it, though? And did you ever notice that quite a few of the revolutions in + those Central American latitudes happen most opportunely for some northern interest + or other? Well, Cogan was <a name="page276" id="page276"></a><span + class="pagenum">[pg 276]</span> there during the Revolution. He told me of a saloon + there, about a minute's walk up from the big steamship dock on the street next the + water-side—remember that street?"</p> + <p>"Where the railroad starts to cross the Isthmus to Panama?"</p> + <p>"That's it. And this saloon was on that street—it may be there yet—the + Fourth of July saloon with its big American ensign painted on the wall opposite the + bar. Remember it?"</p> + <p>"M-m-h-h."</p> + <p>"Well, it was run by a Brooklyn Irishman named Martin Jackson, and Cogan said he + remembered the shock he got when he first heard him talk. His Irish brogue had a + Spanish accent—do you get that? Well, he has nothing to do with the story, only + this—Cogan used to have great ideas about revolutions, and Martin, he knocked + most of them out of him. He'd seen twenty of them in his time, Martin had, and when + he saw one of them coming now, he just ran up his iron shutters and let it roll by. + Business was generally pretty good after a revolution. An easy-going sort of a man, + Martin. He didn't even get mad with Cogan when he'd used up hours of his time and + then only order ginger ale.</p> + <p>"Cogan saw the Panamanian army at dress parade one day—after the Revolution + that was. About two hundred darkies, mostly boys of thirteen <a name="page277" + id="page277"></a><span class="pagenum">[pg 277]</span> or fourteen, barefooted with + high-water pants on. Cogan's notion of it was that a dozen good huskies with baseball + bats could've landed on their peninsula any fine, sunny afternoon and in ten minutes + rushed the whole Panamanian army into the Pacific Ocean—that is, if our + warships would let them. If we'd only let the Colombians alone they'd soon've wound + up the Revolution—so Cogan thought, and told Martin so. 'But I s'pose they've + had hundreds of revolutions in South America?' he says to Martin.</p> + <p>"'Hundreds,' says Martin, and blows more smoke toward the sky. Out in front of the + saloon they were sitting, both of 'em balancing between the sidewalk and the wall on + the hind legs of their chairs.</p> + <p>"'Anybody ever killed?'</p> + <p>"'Oh, not more than maybe a few hundred to a time—sometimes a few + thousand—'</p> + <p>"'Hundreds? Thousands?' says Cogan. 'We hadn't any more than three hundred + killed—that is, killed fighting—in the whole Santiago campaign.' Cogan + had been there.</p> + <p>"'And you have written a library of books about it,' says Martin. 'But of course + when a few hundred are killed down this way—'tis a great joke. And those little + black and tan lads of thirteen or fourteen having to go off shouldering a rifle and + <a name="page278" id="page278"></a><span class="pagenum">[pg 278]</span> kill or get + killed—they're jokes, too. But if a grown man up in your country does + it—the band plays when he goes and comes, and he makes speeches about it at + banquets—and sometimes he will draw a pension for the next sixty years after + it—' says Martin and said it in his easy way, as if he didn't care much about + it one way or the other; and maybe he didn't.</p> + <p>"Cogan didn't find much doing on the streets of Colon after the Revolution was + over, so he got in the way of dropping into a place just around the corner from + Martin's, a joint where they sold you drinks to tables in the front room and ran faro + layouts in two rooms in back—one for whites and one for blacks.</p> + <p>"Cogan drifted in there with a man who looked like the pictures of grand dukes + he'd seen—tall, fine broad shoulders, and dressed in white ducks, and wore a + long, well-trimmed dark beard, and swung a gold-headed cane, and had a big ring on + one finger. Cogan heard him on the wharf that day—he talked pretty good + English—helping out a Chinese merchant who was kicking about the freight + charges on some cases he wanted to ship across the peninsula. The American gang + running the railroad down there used to charge what they pleased in those days, and + Cogan had a sympathy for anybody that bucked them—he'd had to pay <a + name="page279" id="page279"></a><span class="pagenum">[pg 279]</span> eight dollars + gold for a run to Panama and back himself—and he and the grand duke got chummy + and looked the town over together; but not much to look at, and this evening they + drifted into this place—the Russian taking a high-ball and Cogan another ginger + ale—to have an excuse to hang around and see what was doing.</p> + <p>"There wasn't much doing. Half a dozen discouraged looking girls were sitting to + tables in the place. From California, Mexico, Jamaica they were, and had come on just + as soon as they could when they heard about the Revolution, thinking that with the + crowd of Americans who were sure to rush down to the peninsula, there ought to be a + living for a few clever ladies like themselves. But up to this time the rush hadn't + got beyond war correspondents and navy people, and now the poor things were sitting + to tables and looking as if they wished somebody would loosen up and buy a + drink—even if it was no more than a glass of moxie.</p> + <p>"Cogan's grand duke turned out to be a Peruvian, a dealer in Panama hats from + Lima, and he told Cogan a lot about Panama hats, which weren't Panama hats at all, + and other interesting things—South America politics and bull fighting + especially. He had a brother Juan, who was a famous mounted capeador, he + said—that's the man who sits with a red cloak on a horse in the first part of + the bull fight <a name="page280" id="page280"></a><span class="pagenum">[pg + 280]</span> and Cogan could see that he was very proud of him.</p> + <p>"Cogan and his Peruvian friend were getting on fine, when a tremendous old Indian + woman filled up the doorway, and said something in Spanish to the Peruvian, and he + got up, explaining to Cogan that his daughter Valera, who had come with him on this + trip to see the strange peoples, had sent to say that he must not forget his + good-night before she fell asleep. 'She never allows me to forget that,' said the + Peruvian. 'Also possibly she knows,' he smiled, 'that if I am at home I shall not be + in mis-cheef,' and he said he hoped they'd meet again next day and bowed himself + out.</p> + <p>"Cogan went off later to his hotel. That's the same hotel which had been the + George Washington Hotel, later the Cleveland House, and at this time was the Hotel + McKinley, but with an intention soon to call it the Roosevelt House. If it's there + now, it must be the Hotel Taft.</p> + <p>"Cogan had the end room of the lower floor of the hotel wing which ran down toward + the beach. The ocean rolled almost up to the window of his room. It was a calm night + with no sea on, and lying there, listening, Cogan could just catch the low swish of + the surf.</p> + <div class="figcenter"> + <a name="image8" id="image8"></a> <a href="images/image8_full.jpg"><img + src="images/image8_thumbnail.png" + alt="He said he hoped they'd meet again next day and bowed himself out." /></a> + <p>He said he hoped they'd meet again next day and bowed himself out.</p> + </div> + <p>"It was a hot, close night, and Cogan's bed no cooler for being wrapped four times + around with <a name="page281" id="page281"></a><span class="pagenum">[pg 281]</span> + mosquito netting, so after he had tossed around an hour or two, he guessed he might + as well get up and have a swim. He had only to step through a window, take a hop, + step, and jump, and he would be at the edge of the surf; but as he opened up his + shutters softly, so as not to disturb anybody else in that wing of the house, he saw + that it was already near dawn, and then wh-s-s-t, quick as that, the top edge of the + sun popped up.</p> + <p>"Cogan looking out saw a young girl of maybe fourteen years with long black hair + hanging loose behind her. It was a smooth, silver-like sea, with hardly surf enough + to raise a white edge on the beach, and the girl, ankle deep in the water, was + kicking her feet ahead of her, making a great splashing as she marched along. Her + legs below her knees were bare, and she was gurgling with joy. By the time she was + abreast of Cogan's window, it was full dawn.</p> + <p>"Suddenly she turned, ran in waist deep, and plunged seaward. Cogan, seeing her + over her head and alone, began to worry; but he might have saved himself the + worry—she came tumbling back like a young dolphin, found her feet on the beach, + and flew to where was a cloak and a pair of Chinese slippers piled on the sand. The + long rays of the just rising sun were now flashing level atop of the sea, and the + sea-water clinging to her in a million <a name="page282" id="page282"></a><span + class="pagenum">[pg 282]</span> twinkling drops as she ran. Cogan remembered a marble + nymph he had once seen under a fountain in a square on a sunny morning in Rome, only + the figure in Rome was a couple of hundred, or perhaps a couple of thousand, years + old and needed washing, and being marble the water didn't cling so lingeringly.</p> + <p>"Her bare young legs, as they twinkled on the beach, were like a pair of moving + poems to Cogan, and then the long cloak enveloped her. An instant later the little + feet slipped out from beneath the cloak and into the sandals, and then a big woman + came running down the beach. Cogan recognized her—the same big Indian who had + come after his Peruvian friend the night before. He decided she must be a descendant + of the old Incas that Pizarro conquered, and of course that didn't make it any less + interesting. She began to scold the girl, peering distressfully around while she was + talking as if to see if any early hotel riser had seen them. But the girl only made a + face up at her, and that gave Cogan his first sight of her teeth. He thought her the + most delightful looking creature he had ever seen. They disappeared between a row of + trees further up the beach—a row of palms which guarded a line of cottages from + the wash of the surf.</p> + <p>"'That,' said Cogan to himself, when his eyes couldn't make out the fluttering of + her cloak any <a name="page283" id="page283"></a><span class="pagenum">[pg + 283]</span> more—'that must be Valera.' And he sat down to the hotel breakfast + with a great appetite, thinking happily that by and by he would see her father + again.</p> + <p>"But Cogan, who was off a cruiser in Colon harbor, had to be back aboard for + quarters that morning; and after quarters it was up the coast to Chiriqui Lagoon to + coal ship, and it was three days more before he was back in Colon. His Peruvian + friend he could not find, but he looked up the Chinese trader that he'd first seen + him with and who had a shop on the corner between Martin Jackson's and the faro + joint.</p> + <p>"The Chinaman could tell him. Señor Roca had taken the choo-choo back to + Callao—si, si—Oh, yes, for Lima.</p> + <p>"Cogan asked for the name and address and got it. 'Señor Luis Roca,' he + repeated. 'I'll remember that—and the street and number. And some day I'll take + a run down to Peru—to Lima.'</p> + <p>"'Si, si—fine cit-ee. And bull fight—granda, señor,' said the + Chinaman, who, like Martin Jackson, had also a Spanish accent."</p> + <hr class="short" /> + <p>The pump-man had come to a full stop. The third officer was standing near. A + regurgitating and ruminating little animal was the third officer, who always after a + meal came up on deck to lean <a name="page284" id="page284"></a><span + class="pagenum">[pg 284]</span> over the after-rail, and spend a few enjoyable + minutes in picking his teeth, and rechewing the lumps of food as they welled + regularly into his throat; but otherwise a polite little man, plainly waiting for a + chance to say a word to Kieran, but too well-bred to break in on any intimate + conversation. However, Kieran remained silent so very long that the third officer + turned and ventured: "'Adn't you better go below and have your bit o' dinner afore + it's gone, mate?" And Kieran came out of his dream and said perhaps he'd better and + stood up to go below; but on the top step of the ladder he paused and over his + shoulder threw back to the passenger: "It was a long time, though, before Cogan saw + Peru."</p> + <h3>II</h3> + <p>When Kieran came on deck again the third officer had gone forward, but the + passenger was still on one of the towing bitts and still smoking. Kieran, strolling + to the taffrail, resumed his study of the tossing ship's wake and the cavorting barge + in tow. When he seemed to have settled the matter to his satisfaction, he seated + himself on the other towing bitt.</p> + <p>"You can get an idea into your head and sometimes <a name="page285" + id="page285"></a><span class="pagenum">[pg 285]</span> it'll swing you around like + that barge on the end of that hawser, won't it? Or perhaps your mind don't run that + way?"</p> + <p>"I don't see," retorted the passenger, "that that barge has to stick there + forever. What's to prevent her from making a leap and fetching up suddenly, and if + she did she'd part that hawser like a piece of twine."</p> + <p>"Yes, but she won't make the leap—not till something outside of herself + drives her to it. If a sea should rise, or a gale of wind, she might. But it would + take something like that. In the meantime she points this way and that, slewing now + to this side—see—and now to the other—but never getting away from + this ship which has her in tow. Our course must be her course."</p> + <p>"Yes, I suppose that is so."</p> + <p>"Well, then, Cogan that I've been telling you about was nearly always in tow of a + force that seemed to be outside of himself. A storm, a high sea, or a gale of wind in + his case would be an upheaval of his soul like. But in those days he hadn't come to + that. Maybe he was still only half awake. Martin Jackson, sitting out on the sidewalk + of his Fourth of July saloon, came nearer to making him think than all of the school + teachers he'd ever seen. Maybe, too, life was too smooth in those days. However, he + was always in tow of some fancy or <a name="page286" id="page286"></a><span + class="pagenum">[pg 286]</span> other. And one day, being free of the navy, he went + to Peru."</p> + <p>'"Twas love at first sight then with that young Peruvian girl on the beach?"</p> + <p>"No, I don't think so—not quite that. Even at that age Cogan could not fall + in love with curves and color alone. At any rate, he put out to sea; and the beauty + of the little Peruvian girl was with him in many a night-watch. Under the stars he + could shut his eyes and see her—the flashing teeth as she grimaced up at the + horrified nurse, and the eyes still rioting after the curved lips were closed. And + yet it was not her beauty. A hundred rosy-marbled nymphs could have paraded the beach + in a thousand silvery dawns and, once out of sight, his heart never quicken whatever + it was—the innocence, the breathing innocence of her, it may have been that. + And yet there was something more. There must have been. He gave it up, but he knew + that if he had been born a girl he, too, would want to paddle in the sea at + dawn."</p> + <p>"A sort of poet?" suggested the passenger.</p> + <p>Kieran shot a side glance at the passenger. "H-m-m—a good thing he didn't + know it if he was. He was irresponsible enough without having that excuse. If he + thought then that it was poetry in him which kept him hopping about the world, he'd + have been no good at all. He did enough dreaming <a name="page287" + id="page287"></a><span class="pagenum">[pg 287]</span> as it was. It was probably + only the discipline of a warship, of having to do a daily stint, that kept him from + loafing all his time away, for, as maybe I've said, a power used to take hold of him + at times and swing him. An idea would come to him and he'd follow it like a guide to + heaven.</p> + <p>"He wondered what had become of her, and one day, being now free of the navy, he + took a bald-headed schooner out of Portland, Oregon, with a load of lumber for + Callao. Between watches he studied a Spanish-Without-A-Master for one dollar. The + lumber schooner never reached Callao, but she did make one of those volcanic islands + to the south side of the harbor—piled up there and began to fill, which forced + the crew to leave in a hurry and row into Callao harbor in their quarter-boat. From + Callao the crew took a trolley to Lima to see the American consul. In Lima they + became scattered, and Cogan and an old fellow named Tommie Jones found themselves + together. Cogan had met Tommie in a restaurant in Portland at about the time Tommie + was taking notice of a tall, well-nourished, red-headed lass waiting on table there. + Tommie was a hearty lad of fifty-four or so, and Cogan had helped the little romance + along, and because of his interest in the case was how Cogan and Tommie came to ship + together. Well, here was Tommie adrift in Lima after five weeks to sea, <a + name="page288" id="page288"></a><span class="pagenum">[pg 288]</span> and in all that + time he hadn't had a drink, and he wanted one now. He had no money, but Cogan had a + half-dollar, and American silver is good money in Peru; so Cogan bought Tommie three + drinks of some kind of Spanish wine and himself one lemonade for the half-dollar.</p> + <p>"It couldn't have been the wine—he hadn't had enough of that. Maybe it was + the reaction from the excitement of the wreck that made Tommie sleepy. He wanted to + turn in, and it being now night-time they went into a park where a fine band was + playing. It was a beautiful night, with a moon; and under the moon, while the music + rolled out, dark-eyed señoritas with their mothers strolled up and down, and + the young fellows hung around and got in a word when they could. On the edges the + police kept an eye on the loafers.</p> + <p>"The night breeze which made the trees almost talk, the water of the fountain + arching under the colored lights, the scent of the flowering bushes—Tommie and + Cogan after their five weeks at sea just sat there till long after the music had + stopped and everybody gone home. Then Tommie fell asleep, full length under a tree. + Cogan tried to stand watch but he was tired, too, and after a while, with his back + against the same tree, and the water-play of the fountain still tinkling in his ears, + he fell asleep alongside Tommie.</p> + <a name="page289" id="page289"></a><span class="pagenum">[pg 289]</span> + <p>"Cogan had a dream of somebody trying to pull his leg off and it woke him. He + looked down and saw that the lace of one of his shoes was untied. He retied it and + looked at his chum. He was still asleep, snoring, but there was something missing. In + half a minute, his brain clearing, he saw that Tommie's shoes were gone, and also his + hat, and his pockets turned inside out. Cogan then noticed that his own trousers + pockets were turned inside out. He stood up and caught sight of two fellows just + dropping over the tall iron fence surrounding the park. The gates of the park were + closed, and locked, too, or so Cogan guessed, and wasted no time in trying them. The + fence was pretty high and had iron spikes on top, and he felt somewhat stiff in his + joints, but a hot temper is good as a bath and a rub-down any time—Cogan + vaulted the fence, and the two natives just then turned and saw him. He was coming on + pretty fast and they threw up their hands, dropped the shoes and hat, and went + tearing away. Cogan had only to stoop down and pick up the stuff, but it wasn't + property he was after. To steal the shoes off of a shipwrecked sailor! Even if they + weren't told he was shipwrecked, they ought to have guessed, or so he thought, and he + held on after them, and Cogan could run pretty well in those days. But so could one + of those fellows. Cogan could soon have <a name="page290" id="page290"></a><span + class="pagenum">[pg 290]</span> caught the slow one, but he kept always after the + fast fellow and was feeling sure of his man when he took to turning corners. They had + come to a part of the city where the streets were narrow and the blocks short. It + seemed to Cogan there was a corner every twenty feet, and it was up hill. His man + turned one corner and four seconds later Cogan turned it, and, his man not being in + sight, Cogan kept on and turned the next corner. Another twenty yards and he ran up + against a high wall. 'Wow,' says Cogan, but with a running high jump, he got his + fingers on top of the wall and hauled himself up. There was nobody in sight on the + other side. 'Trimmed!' says Cogan, and, sitting on the wall, began to fan + himself.</p> + <p>"It was bright light now and the city beginning to come awake. People came out and + took down the shutters of shops. Indian women went by with loaded baskets of fruit, + and other people drove little burros in carts filled with eggs, chickens, and green + stuff; and men and women, with fish to sell in big dishes on their heads, came + sliding by, and all yelled loud enough to wake a watch below. Girls with baskets of + flowers went by, and one, looking up, spied Cogan and stopped and held her basket up + and made a motion for him to buy. He turned his pockets inside out and threw his + hands apart. That made her laugh, and she took a flower <a name="page291" + id="page291"></a><span class="pagenum">[pg 291]</span> from the basket, touched her + lips to it and threw it up to him. She was a pretty girl,—all the girls were + pretty this morning,—but she was prettiest of all, and the flower was of a big + blue kind which Cogan had never seen before. He blew a kiss after her and she went + singing on her way. Cogan sang a little himself. He was beginning to feel pretty + good.</p> + <p>"Boys came and gazed up at Cogan, and sometimes men, and some of them laughed, but + mostly they paid no attention to him. He heard a bell tolling and he saw people below + him filing toward a gate. They all carried tin cups. He looked further and saw that + it was a monastery they were heading for, and that at the gate of the monastery two + monks in brown habits were passing out bread and filling the tin cups with coffee. + Cogan dropped over the wall, and when he saw that one man had finished with his tin + cup he asked him for it. He knew Spanish enough for that. The man smiled and handed + it over. Cogan went up to the grating and a monk filled his tin cup with coffee. + Another handed him three slices of dark bread. Cogan thanked them, but the monks + seemed not to hear. He thanked them again, at which one monk, looking up, set a + finger to his lips and motioned him to step aside for the next.</p> + <p>"Cogan finished his breakfast, thanked the native <a name="page292" + id="page292"></a><span class="pagenum">[pg 292]</span> for the loan of the cup, and + started to look around. He first tried to find the park where he had left Tommie, but + there were so many parks with trees and flowers and fountains in them! He crossed a + bridge over a river that must have come tumbling all the way from the top of the + Andes, it had such a head of speed on. He patrolled he did not know how many streets, + and at last gave up hunting for Tommie, on whose account, anyway, he wasn't worrying, + for he knew that Tommie, an experienced old sailor man, had by this time laid his + course for the Consul's and been taken care of. He sat on a bench at the curbstone in + front of a fruit store to think things over. It was a comfortable seat, except that + every time a trolley passed he had to lift his feet high so he wouldn't be swept off + his perch.</p> + <p>"As he sat there, a group of well-muscled, well-set-up young fellows passed him. + It was a cool, cheerful morning, and they appeared to be full of play. Everybody did + that morning in Lima. Cogan knew these at once for some sort of athletes. They seemed + to be well known to the store-keepers and the small boys along the street. Their + hair, or what he could see of it, was clipped close. Not handsome men all, but all in + high favor. Girls flung back light words at them, or tapped them on the arm in + passing. Two girls pinned roses on the coats of <a name="page293" + id="page293"></a><span class="pagenum">[pg 293]</span> two of them, who took it all + as though they were used to it. 'Big leaguers of some kind,' thinks Cogan, and asked + the fruit-stand keeper who they were, and the fruit-seller said 'Torero.'</p> + <p>"'Torero? Torero?—Ah-h-h'—Cogan recalled his 'Spanish Without A + Master'—'Ah-h-h, of course, Toreros—Toreadors'—he remembered the + opera 'Carmen'—bull-fighters. Cogan got up and followed them.</p> + <p>"If Cogan had never seen a bull-ring, he would right away have known this in Lima + for one. It was a perfect circle, about two hundred feet across, packed with what + looked like hard sand and surrounded by a stout stockade, and with seats enough for + eight or ten thousand people. The bull-fighters had not minded when he followed them + in, and now he took a seat on the empty benches and watched them at practice. They + had a bull, a lively one, but a well trained one, too, for when he knocked one of + them over he would stand still and not try to trample anybody. He would reach down + and prod with his horns, but, as he had a brass knob on each horn, he couldn't hurt + them much that way. The fellows with the red capes practised all their tricks, the + men with wooden stakes all covered with paper streamers practised theirs, and Cogan's + blood was racing in his veins before they were through. These were great + athletes—he saw that at once—and with <a name="page294" + id="page294"></a><span class="pagenum">[pg 294]</span> a savage bull with + sharp-pointed hoofs and horns in place of that trained manicured one—well, + these men would be taking chances which no athlete at home ever had to take, unless + they were aerial-bar men in the circus or loop-the-loopers or something like + that.</p> + <p>"A few of these men, as Cogan looked on, stood out from the others; and after a + time from among those few stood one by himself. From the first Cogan had noticed that + he was very fast and clever—and strong, yes. It was his quickness and skill, + even more than his strength, which counted. He used the bull's strength against the + bull himself. He wasn't much more than medium height or weight, but beautifully + developed—they were all finely developed men—and behind his muscular + power was all kinds of nervous energy. And a great way of doing things, not an extra + motion of any kind—no wasteful flourishes or posings. Not that he didn't have + style. Style!—he had so much of it that he didn't seem to be half trying. + Everything and everybody seemed to be playing into his hands—even the bull. And + he was such a human kind, laughing and joking as he bounded and ran about! And he + must have said many funny things, they all laughed so; and he took a lot of trouble + to coach some of them in their practice.</p> + <p>"Cogan later saw him in the dressing-room. He <a name="page295" + id="page295"></a><span class="pagenum">[pg 295]</span> came off the field before the + others, and while they were yet practising he had had his bath. He was now dressing + and Cogan saw that he wore fine linen and fashionably-cut clothes. He had a room to + himself off the main dressing-room, and two attendants jumped to serve him. From time + to time, standing at the door of his dressing-room putting on a collar or adjusting + his tie, he would sweep a glance at Cogan. His eyes were friendly. They were also of + good size and deep-set, Cogan now had a chance to see; but they had also an absent, + wistful expression which made Cogan wonder, for at this young fellow's age, and he + the star of the troupe, it's little in life should have been bothering him.</p> + <p>"By and by the others came in, and with their coming Cogan's favorite was again + lively and laughing. Soon he was ready for the street. And all dressed up he was a + great swell. As he passed out those in his way skipped to one side, while those in + the corners ran forward to catch his eye and smile at him. 'Torellas, Torellas,' + Cogan heard again and again in the most admiring and affectionate tones.</p> + <p>"After he had gone out the door, Cogan asked one of the bull-fighters who he was. + But his 'Spanish Without A Master' didn't seem to be working very well, and the man + he questioned called out <a name="page296" id="page296"></a><span class="pagenum">[pg + 296]</span> 'Ferrero—Oh, Ferrero!' saying to Cogan 'Ferrero spik the + Ingliss—O fine-a—good-a Ingliss.'</p> + <p>"A man that Cogan recognized as one of the liveliest performers in the ring, + though somewhat older than the others, came over and bowed politely.</p> + <p>"'Señor, if you will tell me—who is Torellas?' asked Cogan in + English.</p> + <p>"'Torellas'—Ferrero pointed toward the door—'he departed only one + moment ago.'</p> + <p>"'Señor, I saw, and thank you. But who is he?'</p> + <p>"'Torellas? Who ees Torellas?' Not only Ferrero, but every bull-fighter in the + place took a peek at Cogan. Ferrero looked around the room to make sure the others + had heard. 'He asks me'—or so Cogan guessed he said, for now he was speaking + Spanish—'he asks me who is Torellas!' at which they all craned their necks to + get another peek at Cogan, and there was a lot of sputtering talk among them. Cogan + guessed that they were saying many very funny things about the man who did not know + who Torellas was. Ferrero turned to Cogan, now in English, 'Sir, a stranger?' And + Cogan said, 'Si, señor, a stranger—from the United States.'</p> + <p>"And Ferrero said, 'Ah-h—Americano—cer-tain-ly,' in the most + charitable tone. 'Señor, I speak your language a leetla bit. It is true I + lived one time in your contry—a fine contry is U-ni-ted <a name="page297" + id="page297"></a><span class="pagenum">[pg 297]</span> Stat-es—two + years—yes, sir, surely. Listen, please. Torellas, sir, he ees born here, in + thees very city, a Peruvian. We are proud of him. The prodeegious skill, the + strength, the light foot, the stroke of the espada, the sword of Torellas—a + descending thunderbolt it ees—but oh, he ees not to be descripsheeoned. Some + day you shall see—you shall not depart until you have seen. Even now he ees in + Peru—yes, sir—in all South America the supreme matador. Soon—we + have the assurance of it, señor—he shall go to Spain, to Madrid, and in + the great bull-ring there he shall kill his bulls before the king and queen, and, + have no fear, señor, Spain shall also proclaim his superiority. Already, if he + so desires, fifty, seventy-five thousand—truly, sir—dollars gold in the + year—shall be his for his splendid genius. Yes, sir—and renown without + death. We are proud of him. Even now he ees with us—how shall I say + it?—ah, señor, even now, but at twenty years of age he ees with us as + the great John L. Sullivano was in United Stat-es when I lived there a leetle + boy—in New Yorrik—twenty years ago.'</p> + <p>"And Cogan said to himself—'This Torellas person must surely be some + class.'</p> + <p>"'And, señor—surely'—Ferrero had only stopped to get his + breath—'it would be criminal not to view Torellas in all his splendor—not + as you <a name="page298" id="page298"></a><span class="pagenum">[pg 298]</span> have + viewed him this mor-rn-ing—that was play—but in the full strength of his + science, his art—deliverin-g, señor, the final stroke to the ferocious + bull.'</p> + <p>"Cogan also began to see that it would be a crime not to view the great man in + action, and he was also told that even more than Torellas the matador they loved + Torellas the man, the good comrade.</p> + <p>"Cogan became quite friendly with the bull-fighters. He inquired further of + Ferrero, who in the ring was a banderillo—that is, one of the people who stick + the decorated stakes in the bull's neck—possibly Señor Ferrero knew of a + mounted capeador by the name of Juan Roca.</p> + <p>"'Juan? Who does not? Yes, sir. Very much, sir,' and went on to tell Cogan that + Juan, the best mounted capeador in all South America, was that very morning breaking + in a new horse on the ranch of Don Vicente Guillen outside the city.</p> + <p>"Ferrero was a most friendly person, and invited Cogan to eat with him, and Cogan + went. Ten or a dozen bull-fighters boarded in one place near the bull-ring—a + large, square, two-story adobe house; a grand house, with walls painted in colors and + splendid high rooms arranged around a patio inside.</p> + <p>"It was now high noon, and warm enough in the <a name="page299" + id="page299"></a><span class="pagenum">[pg 299]</span> sunny streets outside, but in + the patio it was cool, with a breeze from the Pacific, and after lunch the + bull-fighters sat around there and smoked cigarettes and played stringed instruments, + all but a few wild ones who went leaping and springing about the garden walks. Cogan + could not hide his interest in this jumping exercise, and Ferrero, seeing it, invited + him to join in, which Cogan did, and beat everybody there jumping. He did so well + that Ferrero asked him if he could jump over a horse, and he said he'd try it. So + they went out and got a horse, and Cogan jumped over it. And then they brought in + another and placed the two side by side, and Cogan jumped over the pair of them, at + which they all shouted 'Bueno, bueno, Americano!' and Ferrero slapped him on the back + and told him he must stay with them and practice bull-fighting.</p> + <p>"Cogan had another question. Was not the mounted capeador Juan Roca a brother of + Luis Roca, the hat dealer? And he was told that he was, and that Luis Roca was now + engaged in an enormous hat business with the United States, and had grown very + wealthy, thanks to the increase of trade since the American occupation of the + Isthmus. And Cogan inquired further—was there a daughter who would be now about + eighteen? 'A daughter? Blood of a bull—surely.' And beautiful? Beautee-full! + the Señorita Roca beautee-full? Mother of <a name="page300" + id="page300"></a><span class="pagenum">[pg 300]</span> God!' If he wished, he could + post himself on the Pasada that very afternoon—any afternoon—and see her + driving with her jolly good father or her proud mother, or it might be with + Señor Lorenzo de Guavera. 'And,' added Ferrero, 'you will meet Juan there + also—if he ees returned from the ranch.'</p> + <p>"In the cool of the afternoon they went to the Pasada, which is where everybody in + Lima who has a pair of horses and a coachman goes driving of an afternoon. They pace + up one side and down the other. Cogan never saw so many fine horses and beautiful + women in such a short time. And he saw the hat dealer—the same lively, + good-humored Grand Duke man to look at, dressed in the same style of white ducks and + big Panama hat, with the same great beard down on his chest. Beside him was a + stately, beautiful girl. Cogan stared. He could see the resemblance right away. 'That + must be an elder sister,' he thought, 'and that must be her mother.' The mother was + beautiful, too; but also she knew it. There was also a well-set-up, well-dressed, + well-groomed, distinguished looking man.</p> + <p>"Cogan was staring after the carriage, when he heard a voice in his ear. Ferrero + was speaking to him. 'Ah-h, you know heem, Luis, Juan's brother, yes? And the + señora?—and the Señorita Valera?'</p> + <p>"'Valera? But that is not the little girl—'</p> + <a name="page301" id="page301"></a><span class="pagenum">[pg 301]</span> + <p>"'Leetle girl?'</p> + <p>"'Has she not—the señorita—a younger sister?'</p> + <p>"'Sister? There ees no sister—only herself.'</p> + <p>"And so his little Valera had grown into that stately, self-possessed young lady. + Cogan felt sad.</p> + <p>"'And some say he ees to be betrothed to her, yes. Señor—Mister + Guavera, yes—that ees heem. A splendid man. Poor Torellas. Ah-h, but here ees + Juan coming. He speaks the most beautee-full English. Behold—Juan!'</p> + <p>"Ferrero was pointing out a square-shouldered, compactly built, bronzed man of + five feet seven or so, who was carving curved shapes out of the air with his hands + and pointing to one horse and then another in the parade to illustrate his words. To + further illustrate, he carved beautiful figures with his cane and raised one knee + after the other violently to depict the animal's action. A man full of gimp, Juan + seemed to be. 'It is his new horse,' explained Ferrero. 'He will tell us of it, too.' + And he did—went over it all again after he had been introduced to Cogan. 'Oh, a + marvel of a horse,' he wound up, 'and I shall ride him in the next fiesta.'</p> + <p>"Ferrero reintroduced Cogan to Juan as one who knew his brother Luis.</p> + <p>"'But I met him only once,' added Cogan.</p> + <p>"'Once? It is sufficient,' assured Juan. 'Fully <a name="page302" + id="page302"></a><span class="pagenum">[pg 302]</span> sufficient. To meet Luis once + is to meet him forever. He is always the same. But some others—not so. You have + been shipwrecked, yes? You lost everything? Ah-h, that is most hard luck, but do not + despair. I, too, was a sailor—one time. One time only, gracias a Dios! My + ancestors, I think, were of the land entirely. The + sea-sickness—pir-r-h—no, no, not for me. But do not mind. But pardon, + señor'—he turned to Ferrero—'attend to me, Ferrero. I am grieved + to-day. It is the señora again. What matters it whether a man is a muletero, + gaucho, toreador, or what? Torellas, now, has been all—so have I, her + brother-in-law—or a seller of hats or a member of the cabinet? What, I ask + you'—he turned to Cogan—'are we señor? We are men or we are not? + So? Very well, let us say no more, but find a café and have our coffee. It has + been very dusty to-day—very.'</p> + <p>"Two cups of coffee, and Juan was talking to Cogan like a brother. And he could + talk like a highspeed dynamo. 'A man—can he be no greater than a man, I ask + you, sir? Luis, he will be glad to see you, if you came in rags—no + matter—he is always the same, always. But the señora—pir-r-h. That + is it—you have it—Proud! A good woman, mind'—Juan leaned over and + tapped Cogan's arm to let him know there must be no mistake on that point—'the + best of women, but'—he sighed—'Luis, <a name="page303" + id="page303"></a><span class="pagenum">[pg 303]</span> he is from home six months in + the year, and she it is who has the training of Valera. And once she was as like her + father as—oh, and such a heart! But she will become—I fear it + now—like her mother. And her mother does not want Torellas.</p> + <p>"'And Torellas! A torero, yes. But whether a man is muletero, vaquero, or torero, + what matters it? Torellas has been all three, and I, too—I, her brother-in-law, + but what matters it? Luis, my brother, was, oh, so poor when they married, but, my + friend, I who say it—I, his brother—a scamp possibly, yes, but we had + family. A handsome boy was Luis, and she—I admit it—very beautiful and + good. But Luis—Luis becomes wealthy. At once the señora must have a + grand son-in-law. Torellas is a toreador,—yes,—but also Torellas is + something more than that. The strong arm, the quick eye, the'—Juan slapped + himself on the left breast—'the brave heart, yes. But more than that. I know, + señor, I who have been'—he touched them off on succeeding + finger-tips—'gaucho in Argentina, cowboy in your country, a soldier in the + Chilean war, horse-breaker—but I have not fingers sufficient—I who have + roamed far, I know men. And Torellas—but you have seen him, señor? + Ah-h—then you, too, know. Is he not a man? Ah-h—and surely a man can be + but a man. And Torellas,'—Juan pounded the table,—'he is a + man—Pir-r'—Juan <a name="page304" id="page304"></a><span + class="pagenum">[pg 304]</span> whirled in his chair—'<i>Pedro, + café</i>—<i>al instante. Tres, si, si</i>—<i>tres</i>.'</p> + <p>"'But, Juan,' asks Ferrero when the coffee came, 'a few months ago we + thought—'</p> + <p>"'Exactly—we all thought. It is the señora. Listen, Mr. Cogan. You + have the warm heart, the friendly eye, you, too, shall know. Torellas and my niece + they have regard for each other, and she, the señora, sees no harm until this + Guavera, the politician, comes. Oh, a great man—he is to be in the next + cabinet—possibly. I repeat—possibly. The señora waits for a chance + to terminate with Torellas. Very well. Torellas receives many letters from foolish + girls. So do I, and Ferrero. Pir-r-h—what torero of fame does not? And the + señora, she points to me—as an example. It is true that I am a weak man + and I have no wife—no family—'</p> + <p>"Ferrero began to laugh. 'Mr. Cogan, there was a lady'—begins Ferrero.</p> + <p>"'T-t-t, Ferrero allow me. If we shall have old woman's gossip, allow it also to + be the truth. I was riding, señor, one fine, splendid Argentine + horse—such a horse!—when a carriage approached and a lady—such a + lady!—veiled, you understand, stands before me and a voice says—"Is this + not Señor Juan Roca?" It is true that I had received a note that day—and + why not, señor? What heart would not beat—but that is nothing. I had no + <a name="page305" id="page305"></a><span class="pagenum">[pg 305]</span> more than + kissed the tips of her fingers this beautiful evening, when a giant of a man leaps + out. I did not even know that she had a husband. I do not know yet that he is her + husband. I did not even know who she was, and he—he was as one sweeping down + from a balloon, an aeroplane; but, señor, I who can be gentle, as you can + without doubt understand, I can also be as the sea storm which wrecks great ships. I + beat this interloper—ah-h—beau-tifully—'</p> + <p>"'The whole city knew of it—such a scandal'—concluded Ferrero for + him.</p> + <p>"'Ferrero, enough. I am no destroyer of homes. But the señora, Mr. Cogan, + takes occasion to point the finger at me. "There is your mounted capeador, your brave + toreador," she says to Luis, "and they are all alike." But Torellas is not so. My + heart withers for him. You must understand, señor'—Juan turned anew to + Cogan—'that Torellas is as my own son. He tells me all. I have seen him burn in + one day ten letters—yes, his own heart burning for love, you understand. Such a + boy! He should be a Seminarian. But her mother, she says it is scandalous! As if he + could stop them from writing! He must give up bull-fighting! Torellas give up + bull-fighting! Our matador, the nation's hero, give up—pir-r-h—if I were + Torellas—No matter, I tell him to come to the house as before. <a + name="page306" id="page306"></a><span class="pagenum">[pg 306]</span> Luis favors + him. I favor him. Old Tina favors him, and, I think—I think—Valera + herself—but she is too proud to say. She, also, considers it—beseeched + him to give up bull-fighting! That was the señora's influence. If he were an + ordinary matador—but the great Torellas! Pir-r-h—but a moment.' Juan + whirled to the waiter, '<i>Pedro, mas cafe!</i>'</p> + <p>"Juan downed his coffee in a gulp. 'And you shall come with us to see Luis,' he + goes on. 'Come in your shipwreck clothes, it shall not matter to Luis. I recollect + now, sir, you are the American sailor he saw one time in Colon. He has conversed many + times of you. The señora will not like it, you understand, you a sailor, but + with the señorita, it is but to charm the more. She loves me, her hard dog of + an uncle, because I, who have adventured, can tell her a thousand tales. You have + adventured also and she is yet her father's child. Do not mind that I speak frankly, + but come. If I speak thus to you, it is because I know that you, señor, are + one to understand and to trust. We shall be glad to see you. You go with Ferrero now? + Ver-ry good.' Juan stood up and with his cane he saluted profoundly. 'Good-by, sir. + Ferrero, a Dios.' He went as he came, with a rush.</p> + <p>"Stirred up by Juan, Cogan thought of calling that very night on Luis Roca and his + family. But <a name="page307" id="page307"></a><span class="pagenum">[pg 307]</span> + he did not go, nor next day, nor that week. He saw Juan regularly in the bull-ring, + and always Juan urged him afresh, but Cogan did not go to see the Rocas. 'Later,' + perhaps, he said to Juan, who stared wonderingly at him but did not ask why.</p> + <p>"And so things went for several weeks, until that morning when the American battle + fleet came steaming into Callao harbor. Cogan was one of twenty or thirty thousand + who crowded to the stone pier that day, and when the beautiful white ships came + rounding in, he felt very proud. And the yellow tongues of flame flashing and the + white sides of the great war-ships gleaming through the smoke—it made a + tremendous impression on everybody; but to Cogan's eyes the tears came. People near + him said, 'Americano?' inquiringly, to which Cogan's bull-fighting friends + replied—'Si, si, Americano,' and added a 'Heep, heep, hoo-raw!' to make Cogan + feel more at home.</p> + <p>"That was the morning that Torellas told Cogan that if he wished he could go into + the ring on the occasion of the festival which Peru was to hold in honor of the + American fleet. And such an occasion it was to be! A welcome from a younger to the + older republic. There was to be a great bull-fight, at which Torellas was to make his + last appearance before going to Spain.</p> + <a name="page308" id="page308"></a><span class="pagenum">[pg 308]</span> + <p>"Spain! Madrid! The highest of honors! Cogan looked at Torellas, but the matador + didn't seem to be so very glad."</p> + <p>The pump-man seemed to be listening to something. "Hear 'em?" he asked.</p> + <p>The passenger cocked up his ears, and heard them—several voices from the + depths of one of the tanks.</p> + <p>"It's No. 11," explained the pump-man, and hurried away. The passenger saw him + disappear into a hatchway. Almost immediately the voices ceased and shortly four + deck-hands hurriedly emerged. Kieran followed. "Beat it!" he ordered, and they + somewhat sheepishly went forward.</p> + <p>Kieran came aft. "What was the trouble?" asked the passenger.</p> + <p>"That bunch of bone-heads,"—Kieran was talking. He was also pinching the + crust from the wick of a candle he held—"they sneaked down there to have a + little game. And brought this candle with them—for light. Three weeks ago, up + to the dock in Bayonne, a bunch lit a candle to look for something in the corner of + an oil ship's tank, and the coroner couldn't tell the buttons of one from the other. + Gas, yes. Another half minute and these chaps would've got the surprise of their + lives. But maybe I'd better go for'ard and give <a name="page309" + id="page309"></a><span class="pagenum">[pg 309]</span> 'em a few chemical + explanations, or some day, meaning no harm, they'll be blowing out the side of the + ship. So long."</p> + <h3>III</h3> + <p>The pump-man roomed with Jenkins, the third officer, in the superstructure, + amidships. The passenger sometimes, as on this night, looked in there.</p> + <p>Jenkins was an Englishman, and of him they told the story that when he first came + to the country half the space in his yellow tin trunk was taken up with cakes of + Pears' soap. Somebody had told him that he couldn't buy any in the United States. He + still had some of his original load of soap, and now hauled the tin trunk out from + under his bunk, took out a cake and made a lather, with which he slicked down his + thin, sandy hair, smoothing it, the while he gossiped cheerfully with Kieran and the + passenger, on each side of the middle parting until it made a straight line between + the bottom of his ears to his eyebrows. His ears were stuck high up on the side of + his head—a sign of high intelligence, he used to say.</p> + <p>Jenkins had to go on watch at midnight, and so now he was getting ready to turn + in. The third officer had a minute way of telling his little experiences, <a + name="page310" id="page310"></a><span class="pagenum">[pg 310]</span> to which Kieran + always listened patiently. If Kieran had not, Jenkins would have had no audience at + all, for the second officer, a Norwegian, and the first officer, a Vermont Yankee, + had no use for any Englishman whatever; and besides that he was only the third + officer.</p> + <p>The pump-man had sympathy for Jenkins, but not so much that he would sit and + listen while Jenkins talked himself to sleep; so, once he saw Jenkins into his bunk, + Kieran used to fly for the open deck.</p> + <p>And here it was the passenger joined him, pacing the long gangway. The passenger + turned and they paced together.</p> + <p>The sound of the captain's voice floated down from the bridge. The passenger, who + had small use for the captain, suggested that they go forward; and so they made for + the bow of the ship and ascended the ladder to the forec's'le head, and here, after a + decent interval, to allow Kieran to absorb the beauty of the tropic night, the + passenger said, "How about that bull-fight in Peru?"</p> + <p>"Oh-h—" said Kieran, and after a silence went on to say:</p> + <p>"Well, the day of the bull-fight came, and that afternoon the bull-fighters + marched into the ring; and in their smooth-fitting tights—black, white, green, + pink, blue, purple, all colors—their short <a name="page311" + id="page311"></a><span class="pagenum">[pg 311]</span> jackets, puffed-out shirts, + with the queer little hats and the neat black slippers, well-built fellows, all of + them—they made a great showing.</p> + <p>"They marched once around the ring, and then Torellas, who was leading them, + halted in front of the Mayor's box and asked permission to kill the bull, and the + Mayor, of course, said yes. Then, marching to the opposite side of the ring, to where + was the President of Peru in the biggest box of all, with hangings of red and gold, + and two American rear-admirals of the fleet on either side of him, Torellas saluted, + and tossed up his hat, then his cloak, to the President. And as he did so, around the + ring the less famous bull-fighters were picking out friends or great people and to + them tossing their hats, by way of doing them honor. Cogan tossed his up among the + American blue-jackets, and they, not knowing he wasn't a Peruvian, didn't know what + to make of it, but they scuffled for it just the same.</p> + <p>"Torellas was in white tights with black slippers. A small gold cross was pinned + to the breast of his fine white shirt. As he stepped back from the President's box he + touched a white silk handkerchief to his lips, almost like a woman, but those + graceful little movements were as much a part of him as were his strength and nerve. + Cogan could hear women in the seats behind him whispering of <a name="page312" + id="page312"></a><span class="pagenum">[pg 312]</span> the beauty of him. Until then + it had never occurred to Cogan that the matador was any professional beauty. He + surely was a finely developed fellow, a good deal of a man to look at, but for the + beauty! No, he wasn't handsome—Cogan took another look—but any man would + say a great looking one.</p> + <p>"The ring was now clear, with the bull-fighters hidden behind the stockade, or + tucked away in the little places of refuge built against the inside of the stockade. + These places of refuge were for the bull-fighters to run into when chased by a bull; + and there were half a dozen of them, of heavy planking and about as high as a man's + chest, with an entrance wide enough for a man, but not for a bull's horns. Cogan + picked out his particular refuge because just above it, in front seats, were the + Rocas and Guavera.</p> + <p>"It was now time for the bull-fight to begin, but this was such an extraordinary + occasion that a compliment had first to be paid to the visiting fleet, so the + Peruvian band played our national hymn, and at the first note every American + blue-jacket there stood to attention. Cogan felt as proud as could be of them, in + their fresh-washed suits of muster white with the beautiful blue collars and cuffs. + Section after section was piled solid with them, and here and there Cogan saw an old + shipmate. Just to look at them made Cogan homesick. Four thousand strong they stood + stiff as statues to attention, <a name="page313" id="page313"></a><span + class="pagenum">[pg 313]</span> right arms across body and caps held to their left + breasts, while the 'Star-Spangled Banner' was played.</p> + <p>"It was all fine; and the 'Star-Spangled Banner' made such a hit that the Peruvian + band played it again. And fine musicians they were, too, only as they played it, + trying to be terribly respectful, it sounded like a funeral march. But, through it + all, our blue-jackets, four thousand strong, stood frozen to attention in their + beautiful suits of white with the blue trimmings and their caps held respectfully to + their breasts.</p> + <p>"Great! Cogan could hear them all about him saying how noble and affecting. And it + was—believe me, it was. And again that fine band arose to play the + 'Star-Spangled Banner,' but this time our brave blue-jackets also arose, four + thousand strong, in the beautiful muster white suits, and yelled as one—'Oh, + cut it out, cut out any more music and bring on the bull.' And they brought on the + bull.</p> + <p>"But first a bugle call rang out, and into the ring came the mounted capeador. And + it was Juan, and he was riding his Argentine roan. And he took his station in the + middle of the ring, and there he waited, in his left hand the reins, and in his + right, drooping below his stirrup, a scarlet cape. Great cheers greeted him; and all + around the ring Cogan <a name="page314" id="page314"></a><span class="pagenum">[pg + 314]</span> could hear the residents from the high one in the box with the American + admirals, from the President down, explaining that this was their famous mounted + capeador, Juan Roca, and to have an eye out for Juan's unparalleled skill and his + bravery—and did they notice that Juan wore no iron, nor even leather protection + to his legs? Everyone called him Juan, as though he was an old friend. Cogan + remembered how, on that night in Colon, the hat dealer was as proud as could be of + his brother; but no more proud, he now saw, than was everybody here in Lima.</p> + <p>"A barrier of light boarding was raised, and there was the bull, a big, chocolate + colored fellow, with heavy shoulders and horns that must have spread three feet. + Again Cogan could hear the residents explaining to their American guests that this + was one of a famous lot of bulls bred especially for the ring, from the ranch of Don + Vicente Guillen, and for this afternoon's sport the government had provided six of + these bulls, paying fifteen hundred pesos—about fifteen hundred + dollars—in gold for them, and also that the bulls had been fed on half rations + for the past forty-eight hours to make them of a high eagerness for this most widely + advertised combat.</p> + <p>"Back there in the half light under the shed, Cogan could see the big bull weaving + his head from <a name="page315" id="page315"></a><span class="pagenum">[pg + 315]</span> side to side and swaying on his forelegs as he looked out on the ring. + The sudden light probably blinded him, for he didn't seem to see, not for a few + seconds at least, the scarlet cape Juan was holding up. But when he did! Out he came, + head on, for Juan. And Juan stayed there with not a move, until Cogan thought the + bull surely had him hooked. But no. At arm's length, and in front of the flaming + eyes, Juan flirted the cape, and still in front of the blazing eyes he held it, and + behind him, past his horse's withers, he whipped it, and with that, with but a single + word, and drawing in on his reins, he seemed to lift his horse off the ground, to + whirl him on his hind heels, almost without moving from his tracks; and the bull + rushed on by.</p> + <p>"Juan spurred his horse, waved the scarlet cape aloft, took up a new position, and + the people cheered. And again cheered as the bull charged, for once more Juan was + safe away. Oh, Juan was the brave one! And Juan looked toward the other + bull-fighters, as if to say: 'And now is not this Argentine a horse to talk about?' + And that horse Juan patted and whispered to, and laughed and sang to him; and with + the reins taut in the left hand and the flaming cape always in his right, he did as + he pleased with that bull. He talked to the bull, too, but differently—he knew + how—to make him angry, and the bull frothed and tore up the sand to get at <a + name="page316" id="page316"></a><span class="pagenum">[pg 316]</span> him, and a + dozen times it looked as if the bull would bowl over and gore both the horse and + Juan, but always just in time Juan flashed the red cape, and always he and the + wonderful horse would come safe away. Juan was certainly the champion horseman of all + that Cogan had ever seen. And when Juan rode out of the ring and the bull stood there + and looked after him, bewildered like, Cogan didn't half blame him, for the pair of + them, Juan and his horse, certainly made a tough combination.</p> + <p>"And then into the ring came the capeadors on foot. Cogan took part with these. + They were to play the bull on foot as Juan had been playing him on horseback, but + instead of one there were eight of them in the ring together. And one after the + other, five, ten, or a dozen paces away, they waved a red cape in front of the bull, + at which he glared and lowered his head and charged; but always he charged in one + way, head down and eyes only for the red cape, and there was the way the man beat the + brute. The bull had his speed, strength, endurance, but nothing else. Once he put his + head down he had eyes only for the red cape, and so long as the capeador handled his + cape and himself with speed and skill, and no accident happened, he might count on + getting safe away.</p> + <p>"Cogan only tried to repeat in the ring this day what he had been doing for weeks + in practice. As <a name="page317" id="page317"></a><span class="pagenum">[pg + 317]</span> the bull came charging, he used the cape to lead him to one side, + allowing just room enough for the horns to pass. If he waited too long before he + turned the bull, of course it would mean trouble; but if he turned the bull too soon, + it would be clumsy. Whatever else he did the bull-fighter must not be clumsy. The + first time he tried it, Cogan didn't do a good job—the bull was faster than he + realized, and he had to run for one of the little places of refuge with the bull + after him. Then the crowd roared, or they yelled 'Malo, malo,' which is the same as + if a crowd of baseball fans yelled 'Rotten, rotten!' Next time Cogan did better, and + then it was 'Bueno, bueno!' from everybody. Possibly the applause was all the louder + because by this time the rumor had spread that he was not only a new-comer, a + stranger, an American, but also a sailor, and these four thousand American sailors + were this day the guests of the nation. Cogan could not help looking up to Valera and + her father after he had done his good turn, and was thrilled to see them both + cheering and smiling at him.</p> + <p>"So far it was clever, neat work on the part of the capeadors, but nothing + wonderful, nothing to match Juan's work on the horse. The crowd wanted livelier + action, and there were cries of 'Torellas! Torellas!' The bugle sounded, and Torellas + came. 'Ah-h,' sighed they—you could hear them—'now <a name="page318" + id="page318"></a><span class="pagenum">[pg 318]</span> we shall see something.' + Torellas, holding the red cape before him, lured the bull, turned him skilfully, and, + spinning on his heel, tempted the bull to wheel and charge again, and when the bull + did so, and yet again and again, Torellas, holding him always at arm's length, swung + him back and forth, himself retreating a step at a time, and with every step the bull + plunging on after him. It was just as if he were snapping the bull on the end of the + cape, snapping him back and forth across his path, as he made his way backward. + Torellas was never so far away but what the bull, with one unexpected lunge, would + get him. But Torellas kept the bull too well in hand for any accidental lunge. At + short range he kept him going, drawing him half way across the ring at one time, + until at last the bull himself, seeming to understand that he was being fooled, + stopped short, and Torellas pulled up, too, and let his cape hang loosely by his + side; but as he did so, instantly and at full tilt at Torellas went the bull again; + but that seeming carelessness on the part of Torellas was part of his play. With a + light upward bound, as the bull lowered his head to gore him, Torellas stepped + between the horns, and when the great head came up, with the spring of his leap to + the toss of the bull's head, away he went sailing, twenty feet beyond the bull and + landing like a breath of air on his feet.</p> + <a name="page319" id="page319"></a><span class="pagenum">[pg 319]</span> + <p>"While the people were still making the air explode with their applause, Cogan saw + Torellas look wistfully up to where Valera and her people sat. Cogan looked too. She, + leaning back between her mother and Señor Guavera, with her face cloaked, was + almost hidden. Her mother and Guavera were talking across her as if all this + bull-fighting was of all in the world the thing least interesting to them. Cogan + looked back to the matador. He was bowing, even smiling, to the audience, but Cogan, + who was close enough to mark every line of his face, saw that he was getting no great + joy of his triumph.</p> + <p>"Torellas left the ring, and the banderilleros took possession. These were the men + with the wooden stakes of the length of a man's arm and the thickness of a thumb, and + wrapped around in gay colored paper ribbon streamers, and at one end a thin iron + spike about as long as a man's little finger. The banderilleros had to stand in front + of the bull, with a stake in each hand, and, as he charged, to step in between his + horns and reach over and plant a stake on each side of his neck. 'It is most simple,' + explained Ferrero, as he left Cogan to do his part—'only—surely—we + must not make mistake.' And Cogan could not help thinking that bull-fighting was like + a thousand other games, a man mustn't make mistakes.</p> + <a name="page320" id="page320"></a><span class="pagenum">[pg 320]</span> + <p>"Ferrero, who was rated the best banderillero in Peru, first faced the bull. He + held his stakes up near the end furthest from the bull, to get as much distance at + the start as possible, though it wasn't that alone which saved him from the bull's + rush. That helped, but the bull stopping up short when he felt the spikes going into + his neck, was what Ferrero reckoned on, when it wasn't done too late. An instant + after the stakes were planted in his neck, the bull continued his charge, but by then + Ferrero was out of the way.</p> + <p>"Cogan, watching Ferrero and his companions from his retreat, began to get the + bull-fighting fever. He thought he would like to try the banderillero's + game—that is, after he'd had a few weeks' training at it. These were fine + athletes—and something more. They were risking their lives every minute.</p> + <p>"They leaped like panthers. The jabbing in of the stakes and the wiggling aside to + escape the bull's plunge, it was like one movement. Soon the bull was going round the + ring, with five or six pairs of banderillas decorating his neck. Of these Ferrero had + planted the first and last pair. When he came back to his place in the refuge beside + Cogan, the air was quivering with buenos. 'Buenos!' said Cogan also to him. 'Not + bad—no.' said Ferrero very well pleased.</p> + <p>"But the great thing was to come. 'El matador, <a name="page321" + id="page321"></a><span class="pagenum">[pg 321]</span> el matador! Torellas, + Torellas,' they were shouting. And again Torellas came. He crossed the ring, with his + even, unhurried walk to Cogan's place of refuge, and asked for his cape—'You + will allow me—please—yes? Gracias, señor,' and, with the one word + 'Americano,' and a nod of his head toward Cogan, Torellas held the cape to the + nearest section of American blue-jackets who had been wondering, ever since the word + had been passed, which was the American among the bull-fighters. Cogan, of course, + was dressed like any other bull-fighter, and being dark-haired and pretty well tanned + wasn't to be picked out easily, especially as he buried himself to the eyes in his + place of refuge. He didn't want to be recognized—not then, and so he stayed hid + away, and so it was Ferrero, in the same refuge with Cogan, but looming above him, + who was cheered by the many blue-jackets for their countryman. And Ferrero gleefully + bowed and bowed again to their applause.</p> + <p>"Torellas wrapped the cape around his left forearm. He then took from an attendant + and gripped in his right hand the espada, the short sword, with which he was to give + the bull the finishing stroke.</p> + <p>"Now, to Cogan's way of thinking, Ferrero and the other banderilleros took a + chance when they placed their beribboned stakes, but they had the length of their + stakes the start of the bull, and they <a name="page322" id="page322"></a><span + class="pagenum">[pg 322]</span> did not have to linger over doing it. A light touch, + the stakes were in, and they were off. But to drive a knife through twelve or + fourteen inches of bull gristle! Cogan pictured himself walking into a butcher's + shop, picking out twelve or fourteen inches of tough gristle and driving a knife + through it. He could do it, of course he could, or any man, but he would have to + brace legs and back to get enough power in the stroke. But to stop to brace for that + stroke and a rampant seventeen-hundred-pound bull piling down on top of you, and to + pick out a spot on his neck no bigger than a fifty-cent piece! And if you missed your + spot! Or were a little bit slow! Even in being too soon there was danger, if you + could imagine a man being too quick.</p> + <p>"That was how Cogan looked at it, and he felt himself worrying for Torellas. He + looked toward the Rocas. The mother and Guavera were no longer talking, and Valera + was again drawn back between them, but her father was leaning well forward with eyes + fixed on Torellas.</p> + <p>"There was great shouting when Torellas faced the bull—and then a great + silence. Torellas moved his cape-draped forearm—up, down, coaxingly. The bull + headed for him. Torellas stepped aside. The bull passed on and wheeled. Torellas took + half a dozen dancing steps. The bull followed. Torellas waved his arm, the bull + charged. Torellas <a name="page323" id="page323"></a><span class="pagenum">[pg + 323]</span> leaped easily to one side. The bull passed on. More light play, a charge, + another charge, yet another, all beautiful athletic play, and Torellas had worked his + way across the ring to near the place of refuge where Cogan and Ferrero were. This + also brought the bull under the seats of the Rocas. Cogan, studying the matador's + face, had a feeling that he had drawn the bull there purposely. It was as if he had + said to her up there on the seats: 'Here—here is the product of my highest + skill. To do this well I have dedicated my abounding youth. I offer them a sacrifice + to you.' So Cogan viewed it. Cogan, to be sure, had a sympathy for Torellas, had + liked him from the first. Torellas—he was one who adventured to give the spirit + play as now; and Cogan would have liked just then to be in the shoes of Torellas.</p> + <p>"The bull was at last properly worked up. Torellas took his final stand. His feet + were well apart, but not too far apart, body and legs set so that he could have + leaped instantly forward, backward, sideways. Cogan, watching, thought what a + painting, or better, what a bit of sculpture could have been made of him so. He was + standing on the balls of his feet, with his torso canted slightly forward from the + waist. His head was forward, too, but inclining a little to one side, toward his + right shoulder. His eyes were so narrowed that they <a name="page324" + id="page324"></a><span class="pagenum">[pg 324]</span> could hardly be seen, but the + glitter of them was plain enough. The sword up to this time he held loose in his + right hand, palm up and shoulder-high, with the blade horizontal, the point toward + the bull. His left arm held forward, well clear of the body, was the final effect in + the miracle of his balance. Standing like that, he was planted solidly enough on the + earth, but he gave out, too, such an impression of energy, force, power bottled up, + that he made you feel that he could fly if he tried.</p> + <p>"Standing so, he didn't seem to breathe. But the crowd were breathing for him. + From the seats behind him Cogan could hear, almost feel, their hot breaths.</p> + <p>"The bull now stopped and studied this last enemy. The others had come at him in + groups, but here was one all alone.</p> + <p>"The bull stood with half-lowered head, weaving it from side to side, like when + from behind the barrier he first appeared to the crowd. He eyed the red cape. It must + have flamed like blood in the sun to him. His nostrils, his eyes, were flaming like + blood, too. He ceased his weaving, raised, lowered his head, and bounded toward + Torellas. And everybody there knew that it was the bull or the matador this time. The + red cape of the matador seemed to leap forward, no loose ends now for a flying horn + to catch, but a tight roll around the matador's left <a name="page325" + id="page325"></a><span class="pagenum">[pg 325]</span> forearm. Standing now four + feet away Torellas, to blind the charging bull as the capeadors had done, had to step + close in. And now he was close in and his forearm was across the bull's forehead. It + was hard to follow, the action was so fast, but Cogan saw that Torellas was already + between his horns. Cogan looked for the flash of the heavy blade, but already + Torellas' right arm had gone forward, that eye of his had marked the little vital + spot, and, as the bull lowered his head and lunged to gore him, the blade was driven + forward, and onto the point of it rushed the bull. The blade went home—clear to + the hilt—eighteen inches or so. Before the people could clear their choked-up + throats to applaud, before many could realize what had happened, the bull was + stumbling to his knees and Torellas was unwrapping the cape from his left forearm. + One long, thundering in-and-out breath and they were mobbing Torellas with + applause.</p> + <p>"The bull rolled from side to side on his knees, tried to balance himself there + for four, five, six seconds, and then rolled over. He half lifted his head from the + sand, he kicked, once, twice, again, and then the head fell back, a quiver, and he + lay limp. It was sad in a way.</p> + <p>"A bugle rang out. Two Peruvian boys came galloping in on horses. The bugle + sounded again, <a name="page326" id="page326"></a><span class="pagenum">[pg + 326]</span> they took a bridle hitch on the bull and went galloping out of the ring, + bugles going and the bull dragging behind. The noise and whirl of it made Cogan think + of a fire-engine coming down the middle of a street up home.</p> + <p>"As the bull was hauled out, Cogan felt a new sorrow for him. Up to that last + stroke there was a chance that he would hurt somebody, but he hadn't killed or hurt + anybody, and now, when he was dragged out dead, Cogan felt half sad. And he said as + much to Ferrero.</p> + <p>"Ferrero looked at him puzzled. 'Such ideas you have in your country? Why? Leesen + now, my friend, I also have a sadness, but consider if you was a bull, or I was a + bull. Would you prefair to go to your death in a bull-ring or to be led to a man who + demolished you on the temple with an axe, or cut your throat with a long + knife—a man in a white garment? Which?'</p> + <p>"Cogan said that if he was a bull, no doubt he'd prefer the bull-ring, but would + the bull?</p> + <p>"'Of a certainty, yes—if he was a blooded bull—yes,' said Ferrero. 'A + high class bull always. He should be keeled no other way. No. And in the ring there + was always a hope to make man pay—but in a slaughter-house—p-ff-f. And + some day, my friend, the bull will obtain his revenge. Have no doubt of it. + Bull-fighters die one way—all matadors <a name="page327" id="page327"></a><span + class="pagenum">[pg 327]</span> surely. Let them attend to it long enough and no + fear—some day the bull shall get heem. View Torellas now. He is strong, brave, + agile, superb, triumphant as he stands there, let him continue and some day a slip + shall come and he shall go.'</p> + <p>"Cogan said no doubt, at the same time wishing he were in the place of Torellas. + The matador—he had had his supreme moment.</p> + <p>"Cogan looked up to the Roca's party. Her father was still wildly cheering + Torellas. Her mother and Guavera were applauding, too, but their applause did not + have the quality of Señor Roca's. Valera's face was still hidden by her fan. + Cogan looked to the matador. He seemed to be limp, apathetic. 'The reaction,' Cogan + thought, and Torellas, being so young and such a high-strung fellow, maybe it was + only natural, and yet, thinking a moment later, it had come rather soon for an + athlete in his fine condition.</p> + <p>"In the sand lay the sword with which he had killed the bull, and while the people + were cheering, stamping, hurling words of applause, endearment, love, at Torellas, he + picked it up. Already the President of the Republic was standing up in his box with + the cloak and hat of the master, to hand them back to him with words of appreciation, + and to him and the crowd Torellas was bowing.</p> + <a name="page328" id="page328"></a><span class="pagenum">[pg 328]</span> + <p>"Cogan, with eyes only for Torellas and the Rocas, did not see the beginning of + what happened next. He first heard a cry, then a loud voice or two, then a hundred, a + thousand voices. He turned. The gate which held the next bull in confinement had been + opened or else it had burst out. The gateman was there, but with despairing hands on + high, and across the ring the fresh bull was coming. Torellas was standing with his + back to the gate, and not twenty feet from it, almost in the spot where he had killed + his bull, and wiping the sword blade in a fold of Cogan's cape, which he was now + holding loosely. He was looking up at the Rocas and seemed at first not to hear the + cries. He turned—slowly, with horrible slowness, Cogan thought, when he + recalled how fast he could move when he wanted to.</p> + <p>"He turned too slowly. The bull caught him sideways, and when he came down, it was + astraddle of the bull's back, from which he fell to the sand beside the bull, who had + wheeled and was waiting. He must have been stunned when he landed, for the sword and + cape had fallen from him, and he lay motionless. The bull lunged like lightning. The + horn went into the left thigh, just above the knee, and, not done then, the bull + ripped on upward with that same horn until it came out under the matador's left + breast.</p> + <a name="page329" id="page329"></a><span class="pagenum">[pg 329]</span> + <p>"The white tights turned red. The bull was lowering his head to gore him again, + but Ferrero had leaped from his place of refuge. Cogan was with him. Ferrero picked + up the cape and flouted it in the bull's eyes. The bull lifted his head from + Torellas, looked at the cape, and charged. And as he did, Cogan snatched up the + matador's sword and waited. The bull charged past Ferrero, then, wheeling quickly, + made again for Torellas, and his head was lowered to gore again. Ferrero got + desperate and threw the cape from him, and it caught on the horns, and while the bull + was entangled and enraged afresh, Cogan stepped close, picked out the little spot the + size of a fifty-cent piece at the head of the spine, stood on his toes and came down + with all his force. It wasn't any approved matador's stroke, for Cogan, standing + behind instead of in front of the bull's horns, drove home in just the reverse + fashion, but it wasn't a bad stroke at that. The knife went home. The bull rolled + over, and Cogan stood there and looked and looked. Nobody was more surprised than he. + Not once in ten times he was saying to himself could he have done it in cold blood. + Only when Ferrero pulled him by the arm did he think to turn and bow with the + banderillero to the cheering audience, especially to some blue-jackets who had now + recognized him as an old shipmate and were calling him by name—hundreds of + them.</p> + <a name="page330" id="page330"></a><span class="pagenum">[pg 330]</span> + <p>"In the middle of the excitement he looked up to see how Valera was taking it. She + and her father were both leaning far over the rail toward him—he with both arms + extended and yelling, she with her handkerchief pressed to her lips. Her eyes met + Cogan's, and Cogan was satisfied. His little Valera of the beach was on deck again. + No matter about the rest. That must have been a full minute after it happened and + after the surgeon had called out 'It is well. Torellas will live!'</p> + <p>"But the bull-fighters in the ring did not believe that all was well. 'Torellas! + Oh, Torellas!' they were saying, and some were shedding tears, as they carried him to + the dressing-room. Torellas was now conscious. He smiled at Ferrero, and he was + smiling while they were undressing him, and he took Cogan's hand and held it while + the others were telling him how it was. Not until the surgeon said, 'You will live, + but your bull-fighting days are done,' did he lose his nerve. He had been pale, but + he went paler then. The globes of sweat collected on his forehead. 'Oh, no, no, + doctor!' he cried and fainted.</p> + <p>"That night Cogan slipped away from a party of American blue-jackets who wanted to + paint Lima in high colors for him, and went down to see Torellas, who had been taken + to his home, a fine, large house on a wide street. A crowd was in the street, waiting + for word of his condition.</p> + <a name="page331" id="page331"></a><span class="pagenum">[pg 331]</span> + <p>"Ferrero met him at the door. 'They wait for you, good friend.'</p> + <p>"'They? Who?'</p> + <p>"'Oh, you shall see.' And he led Cogan to the second floor, to where a fine suite + of rooms opened from the wide hall. Her father and Juan were in the outer room.</p> + <p>"These two clasped him to their bosoms. 'You brave one,' said her father—and + 'Bueno Americano!'—said Uncle Juan, and patted him on the head as if he were a + son. 'He will live—Oh, be sure of that. But never will he fight bulls again. + Never, never. And that is sad. But we have him. Let us not mourn. And you'—Juan + raised both hands high—'you and Torellas—I love you both.'</p> + <p>"Cogan thought he heard her voice, the voice which never in his life he had heard, + and hesitated. 'Proceed,' said her father, and pushed him toward the door of the + middle room. 'She is there. And Tina—you remember Tina—that night in + Colon? She is also there. The señora'—he looked at Juan and Juan smiled + back at him—'she is too fatigued to come, but Tina came.'</p> + <p>"Cogan softly crossed the second room, but paused on the threshold of the inner + room. He saw a great, stout woman back to. He knew her—Tina. He looked further, + and under the half light saw the face of the matador. She was beside the <a + name="page332" id="page332"></a><span class="pagenum">[pg 332]</span> bed. He could + not see her face, but he heard her voice, and it was over her shoulder that he saw + the matador's face.</p> + <p>"There were murmured words in Spanish which he did not understand, and then a + phrase at which he could guess, then words which there was no mistaking, and which + were not for him or any other man to hear. He backed out.</p> + <p>"Juan, Ferrero, and her father were still at the outer door of the outer room. + They were not looking. He saw that from this middle room a window led on to a + balcony. He stepped through the window, found a post, dropped to the ground, made his + way through the garden in the rear, and so on to a back street. He ran on—one + street, another, a dozen, and then uphill to a wall which he seemed to know. He + looked about, and saw that near by was the monastery where he had been given his + first breakfast in Lima. It was the same old wall.</p> + <p>"He climbed the wall and sat there. He had been sitting so that morning when the + pretty flower girl had tossed him the blue flower—blue as the sky. Only now it + was night and no one to see and smile. He looked up to the sky, the night sky of the + tropics. The twisted Southern Cross shone on him. He turned and faced the north.</p> + <p>"Somewhere he could hear a band playing. In one of the parks probably, and there + would be leaves <a name="page333" id="page333"></a><span class="pagenum">[pg + 333]</span> rustling there, and the scent of flowers, and the señoritas + walking with their mothers, while the young men hung around the edges, striving to + get a word, a look. And there would be the arched jets of a fountain playing under + colored lights, and back in Portland, Oregon, by this time was perhaps Tommie Jones + married to his plump waitress.</p> + <p>"It was a good band—playing something he had never heard before, but + something very soothing. He looked toward the Pacific. He knew where the harbor of + Callao should lie, and in the middle of the harbor he could see them, one great + cluster of lights, the lights of the battle fleet. And there were the fleet's + search-lights playing on the great stone pier.</p> + <p>"The band was playing again—something fine.</p> + <p>"And then the monastery bell tolled. And presently he heard a chanting—a + slow sad chanting! And then the chanting also died away.</p> + <p>"He had been lying on the wall with his hat in his hand and staring up at the sky. + Now he sat up, put on his hat, took another look to the lights in the harbor, and + hummed softly the Philippine service song—</p> + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="line"> + "It's home, boy, home, it's home you ought to be." + </div> + </div> + </div> + <p>"And you've no kick coming. Dreams dreams, always dreams, but you've had your + hour, too.' He took another look at the lights of the fleet—another <a + name="page334" id="page334"></a><span class="pagenum">[pg 334]</span> to the lights + of the city below him—'Good night, Lima,' he whispered, and dropped off the + wall."</p> + <hr class="short" /> + <p>The pump-man had begun his story this evening while sitting with back to the rail + and feet stretched out on the deck before him. He finished while lying on his back, + hands clasped under the back of his head, and wide eyes on the sky.</p> + <p>The passenger leaned on the rail, studied the stem of the ship, and listened to + the surge of back wash against the ship's bow as she drove on. Abeam, the young moon + drooped.</p> + <p>Kieran said nothing more. The passenger nothing for a long time. Then it was:</p> + <p>"And they were married?"</p> + <p>"I don't know—Cogan didn't wait to see—but of course."</p> + <p>"Of course," echoed the passenger, and in silence resumed his study of the ship's + bow cutting through the little seas.</p> + <p>The passenger turned inboard. "But Cogan—where is he?"</p> + <p>"There was no Cogan."</p> + <p>"No Cogan."</p> + <p>"No, no Cogan."</p> + <p>"And no bull-fight, and no Valera, and no Torellas, nor Juan, and it never + happened?"</p> + <a name="page335" id="page335"></a><span class="pagenum">[pg 335]</span> + <p>"Why, of course it happened, and just as I've told it. But not to anybody named + Cogan. There was no Cogan, or rather"—Kieran rolled over on his side and rested + his head on his elbow—"I'm Cogan."</p> + <p>"Oh-h-h. Oh-h-h. And you're Campbell, the old champion athlete?"</p> + <p>"Yes, I'm Campbell. And I'm Cogan. And I'm Kieran, pump-man on this wall-sided + oil-tanker at fifty-five per month."</p> + <p>"But why?"</p> + <p>"Why, why?" He sat up. The passenger could see the thick, dark eyebrows draw + together. "Why? Why anything? What would you do?"</p> + <p>"Forget it."</p> + <p>"Forget it. But can you?—everything? No—you betcher you can't. And + it's every man to his own cure. Some I know get drunk and fight. And some I know who + get drunk and cry. Some worry their friends to death, and some others beat their + wives. Every man to his way. I have no wife"—he laughed softly—"and I + want to keep my friends. So I run my heart out in races and beat up bully bosons, and + fight bulls—when I can."</p> + <p>"But when you can't?"</p> + <p>"When I can't? Why, when I can't, I lay out on the fo'c's'le head and bay up at a + two-horned moon."</p> + <a name="page336" id="page336"></a><span class="pagenum">[pg 336]</span> + <p>The passenger turned and looked down. "Thank your God, Kieran," he said, "you can + laugh when you say that."</p> + <p>The pump-man's smile died away. "Maybe I'm thanking God," he said softly, "for + more than that."</p> + <hr class="full" /> + <p>BOOKS BY JAMES B. CONNOLLY</p> + <p>PUBLISHED BY CHARLES SCRIBNER'S SONS</p> + <hr class="short" /> + <p>OPEN WATER</p> + <p><i>Illustrated. $1.20 net. Postpaid $1.30</i></p> + <p>A collection of new stories of the same type—breezy, fresh, + vigorous—as those in his earlier books.</p> + <p>Some are of Gloucester fishermen, some of the men of the navy, some of the + smugglers—in all such is the smack of the salt-laden wind; the rattle and creak + of ships' tackle; the dull boom of pounding surf, or the hissing crash of the + breakers. But there are the other stories of sport and adventure ashore of which Mr. + Connolly has shown his complete mastery.</p> + <hr class="short" /> + <p>THE CRESTED SEAS</p> + <p><i>Illustrated. $1.50</i></p> + <p>"Tales of daring and reckless deeds which make the blood run quicker and bring an + admiration for the hardy Gloucester men who take their lives in their hands on nearly + every trip they make. There are Martin Carr and Wesley Marrs and Tommy Clancy, and + others of the brave crew that Connolly loves to write about."—<i>Chicago + Post</i>.</p> + <p>"The author knows how to make them real and how to carry them through moving and + thrilling scenes with unconscious heroism and often with equally unconscious dry + drollery."—<i>The Outlook</i>.</p> + <a name="page354" id="page354"></a><span class="pagenum">[pg 354]</span> + <hr class="short" /> + <p>OUT OF GLOUCESTER</p> + <p><i>With illustrations by</i> M.J. BURNS <i>and</i> FRANK BRANGWYN <i>12mo, + $1.50</i></p> + <p>"Mr. Connolly has a touch of gay humor in his narratives. He knows his sea and his + sailors well. He understands how to bring dramatic power and effect into a + story."—<i>Congregationalist</i>.</p> + <p>"This new volume of six stories of ocean adventure will strengthen Mr. Connolly's + reputation as the best delineator of the actual life of our New England deep-sea + fishermen that has yet appeared."—Boston <i>Journal</i>.</p> + <p>"His book gives graphic descriptions of life on board of a fisherman, and has the + genuine salt-water flavor. Mr. Connolly knows just what he is writing about, from + actual experience, as his book very plainly indicates, and as such it is a valuable + addition to sea literature."—Gloucester <i>Times</i>.</p> + <p>"That all the romance and adventure has not gone out of New England seafaring is + easily demonstrated by Mr. Connolly in this volume of roaring good stories about + Gloucester fishermen.... They are capitally told and they put you right into the life + they tell about."—Providence <i>News</i>.</p> + <p>"Mr. Connolly really knows the sea and the men that sail it, and his love for it + is apparent on every page."—<i>Leslie's Weekly</i>.</p> + <p>"A collection that for all-round excellence and interest will be hard to + duplicate."—Chicago <i>Record-Herald</i>.</p> + <a name="page355" id="page355"></a><span class="pagenum">[pg 355]</span> + <hr class="short" /> + <p>THE DEEP SEA'S TOLL</p> + <p><i>With illustrations by</i> W.J. AYLWARD <i>and</i> H. REUTERDAHL</p> + <p><i>12mo, $1.50</i></p> + <p>"Sea stories of the kind you can't help liking. Stirring, heart-moving yarns of + the Gloucester fishermen who brave death daily in pursuit of their + calling."—Chicago <i>Record-Herald</i>.</p> + <p>"No teller of sea tales can put the passion of the sea into his stories more + forcibly than Mr. Connolly."—Brooklyn <i>Eagle</i>.</p> + <p>"The very breath of the ocean blows in these thrilling stories of deep-sea + adventure."—Albany <i>Journal</i>.</p> + <hr class="short" /> + <p>THE SEINERS</p> + <p><i>With frontispiece by</i> M.J. BURNS</p> + <p><i>12mo, $1.50</i></p> + <p>"It carries the sails easily. In Tommy Clancy he has created a veritable Mulvaney + of the sea."—<i>Collier's Weekly</i>.</p> + <p>"Full of vigor and song and the breath of the sea."—<i>St. James + Gazette</i>.</p> + <p>"A real tale of the sea which makes one feel the whiff of the wind and taste the + salt of the flying spray—such is Mr. J.B. Connolly's new book, 'The Seiners.' + ... Certainly there is not a lover of the sea, man or woman, who will fail to be + delighted with this breezy, stirring tale."—London <i>Daily Telegraph</i>.</p> + <a name="page356" id="page356"></a><span class="pagenum">[pg 356]</span> + <hr class="short" /> + <p>AN OLYMPIC VICTOR</p> + <p><i>With illustrations by A. CASTAIGNE</i></p> + <p><i>12mo, $1.25</i></p> + <p>"His story of the straining, gruelling struggle, the heart-breaking efforts of the + runners over those twenty-four miles of country roads, is + soul-stirring."—Philadelphia <i>Press</i>.</p> + <p>"The reality of the atmosphere created makes this story compare favorably even + with the great chariot race of 'Ben Hur.'"—<i>The Westminster</i>.</p> + <p>"A fascinating story of the Olympic games. The long grind over the historic course + is well portrayed and the excitement at the great finish is intense."—<i>The + Independent</i>.</p> + <hr class="short" /> + <p>JEB HUTTON</p> + <p>The Story of a Georgia Boy</p> + <p><i>Illustrated. $1.20 net</i></p> + <p>"Will rank beside 'Captains Courageous.'"—New York <i>Globe</i>.</p> + <p>"A bright, dashing story, sure to charm boys who love the strenuous + life."—<i>The Outlook</i>.</p> + <p>"'Jeb Hutton' is a boy's story from beginning to end; clean, wholesome, spirited, + and calculated to do good."—Boston <i>Journal</i>.</p> + <hr /> + <p>BOOKS BY JAMES B. CONNOLLY + </p> + <p>Wide Courses. Illustrated <i>net</i> $1.25<br /> + Open Water. Illustrated <i>net</i> $1.20<br /> + The Crested Seas. Illustrated $1.50<br /> + The Deep Sea's Toll. Illustrated $1.50<br /> + The Seiners. With frontispiece $1.50<br /> + Out of Gloucester. Illustrated $1.50<br /> + An Olympic Victor. Illustrated $1.25<br /> + Jeb Hutton. The story of a Georgia Boy. Illustrated <i>net</i> $1.20<br /> + </p> +<br /> +<div>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 13836 ***</div> +</body> +</html> |