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| author | Roger Frank <rfrank@pglaf.org> | 2025-10-15 04:44:31 -0700 |
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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/14449-0.txt b/14449-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..aef103c --- /dev/null +++ b/14449-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,3734 @@ +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 14449 *** + +DUTCH COURAGE AND OTHER STORIES + +by + +JACK LONDON + +New York + +1924 + + + + + + + +[Illustration: JACK LONDON, SAILOR] + + + + +PREFACE + + +"I've never written a line that I'd be ashamed for my young daughters to +read, and I never shall write such a line!" + +Thus Jack London, well along in his career. And thus almost any +collection of his adventure stories is acceptable to young readers as +well as to their elders. So, in sorting over the few manuscripts still +unpublished in book form, while most of them were written primarily for +boys and girls, I do not hesitate to include as appropriate a tale such +as "Whose Business Is to Live." + +Number two of the present group, "Typhoon Off the Coast of Japan," is +the first story ever written by Jack London for publication. At the age +of seventeen he had returned from his deep-water voyage in the sealing +schooner _Sophie Sutherland_, and was working thirteen hours a day +for forty dollars a month in an Oakland, California, jute mill. The +_San Francisco Call_ offered a prize of twenty-five dollars for the +best written descriptive article. Jack's mother, Flora London, +remembering that I had excelled in his school "compositions," urged him +to enter the contest by recalling some happening of his travels. Grammar +school, years earlier, had been his sole disciplined education. But his +wide reading, worldly experience, and extraordinary powers of +observation and correlation, enabled him to command first prize. It is +notable that the second and third awards went to students at California +and Stanford universities. + +Jack never took the trouble to hunt up that old _San Francisco +Call_ of November 12, 1893; but when I came to write his biography, +"The Book of Jack London," I unearthed the issue, and the tale appears +intact in my English edition, published in 1921. And now, gathering +material for what will be the final Jack London collections, I cannot +but think that his first printed story will have unusual interest for +his readers of all ages. + +The boy Jack's unexpected success in that virgin venture naturally +spurred him to further effort. It was, for one thing, the pleasantest +way he had ever earned so much money, even if it lacked the element of +physical prowess and danger that had marked those purple days with the +oyster pirates, and, later, equally exciting passages with the Fish +Patrol. He only waited to catch up on sleep lost while hammering out +"Typhoon Off the Coast of Japan," before applying himself to new +fiction. That was what was the matter with it: it was sheer fiction in +place of the white-hot realism of the "true story" that had brought him +distinction. This second venture he afterward termed "gush." It was +promptly rejected by the editor of the _Call_. Lacking experience +in such matters, Jack could not know why. And it did not occur to him to +submit his manuscript elsewhere. His fire was dampened; he gave over +writing and continued with the jute mill and innocent social diversion +in company with Louis Shattuck and his friends, who had superseded +Jack's wilder comrades and hazards of bay- and sea-faring. This period, +following the publication of "Typhoon Off the Coast of Japan," is +touched upon in his book "John Barleycorn." + +The next that one hears of attempts at writing is when, during his +tramping episode, he showed some stories to his aunt, Mrs. Everhard, in +St. Joseph, Michigan. And in the ensuing months of that year, 1894, she +received other romances mailed at his stopping places along the eastward +route, alone or with Kelly's Industrial Army. As yet it had not sunk +into his consciousness that his unyouthful knowledge of life in the raw +would be the means of success in literature; therefore he discoursed of +imaginary things and persons, lords and ladies, days of chivalry and +what not--anything but out of his priceless first-hand lore. At the same +time, however, he kept a small diary which, in the days when he had +found himself, helped in visualizing his tramp life, in "The Road." + +The only out and out "juvenile" in the Jack London list prior to his +death is "The Cruise of the Dazzler," published in 1902. At that it is a +good and authentic maritime study of its kind, and not lacking in honest +thrills. "Tales of the Fish Patrol" comes next as a book for boys; but +the happenings told therein are perilous enough to interest many an +older reader. + +I am often asked which of his books have made the strongest appeal to +youth. The impulse is to answer that it depends upon the particular type +of youth. As example, there lies before me a letter from a friend: "Ruth +(she is eleven) has been reading every book of your husband's that she +can get hold of. She is crazy over the stories. I have bought nearly all +of them, but cannot find 'The Son of the Wolf,' 'Moon Face,' and +'Michael Brother of Jerry.' Will you tell me where I can order these?" I +have not yet learned Ruth's favorites; but I smile to myself at thought +of the re-reading she may have to do when her mind has more fully +developed. + +The youth of every country who read Jack London naturally turn to his +adventure stories--particularly "The Call of the Wild" and its companion +"White Fang," "The Sea Wolf," "The Cruise of the Snark," and my own +journal, "The Log of the Snark," and "Our Hawaii," "Smoke Bellew Tales," +"Adventure," "The Mutiny of the Elsinore," as well as "Before Adam," +"The Game," "The Abysmal Brute," "The Road," "Jerry of the Islands" and +its sequel "Michael Brother of Jerry." And because of the last named, +the youth of many lands are enrolling in the famous Jack London Club. +This was inspired by Dr. Francis H. Bowley, President of the +Massachusetts S.P.C.A. The Club expects no dues. Membership is automatic +through the mere promise to leave any playhouse during an animal +performance. The protest thereby registered is bound, in good time, to +do away with the abuses that attend animal training for show purposes. +"Michael Brother of Jerry" was written out of Jack London's heart of +love and head of understanding of animals, aided by a years'-long study +of the conditions of which he treats. Incidentally this book contains +one of the most charming bits of seafaring romance of the Southern Ocean +that he ever wrote. + +During the Great War, the English speaking soldiers called freely for +the foregoing novels, dubbing them "The Jacklondons"; and there was also +lively demand for "Burning Daylight," "The Scarlet Plague," "The Star +Rover," "The Little Lady of the Big House," "The Valley of the Moon," +and, because of its prophetic spirit, "The Iron Heel." There was +likewise a desire for the short-story collections, such as "The God of +His Fathers," "Children of the Frost," "The Faith of Men," "Love of +Life," "Lost Face," "When God Laughs," and later groups like "South Sea +Tales," "A Son of the Sun," "The Night Born," and "The House of Pride," +and a long list beside. + +But for the serious minded youth of America, Great Britain, and all +countries where Jack London's work has been translated--youth +considering life with a purpose--"Martin Eden" is the beacon. Passing +years only augment the number of messages that find their way to me from +near and far, attesting the worth to thoughtful boys and girls, young +men and women, of the author's own formative struggle in life and +letters as partially outlined in "Martin Eden." + +The present sheaf of young folk's stories were written during the latter +part of that battle for recognition, and my gathering of them inside +book covers is pursuant of his own intention at the time of his death on +November 22, 1916. + + CHARMIAN LONDON. + + Jack London Ranch, + Glen Ellen, Sonoma County, California. + August 1, 1922. + + + + +TABLE OF CONTENTS + + + DUTCH COURAGE + TYPHOON OFF THE COAST OF JAPAN + THE LOST POACHER + THE BANKS OF THE SACRAMENTO + CHRIS FARRINGTON: ABLE SEAMAN + TO REPEL BOARDERS + AN ADVENTURE IN THE UPPER SEA + BALD-FACE + IN YEDDO BAY + WHOSE BUSINESS IS TO LIVE + + + + +DUTCH COURAGE + + +"Just our luck!" + +Gus Lafee finished wiping his hands and sullenly threw the towel upon +the rocks. His attitude was one of deep dejection. The light seemed gone +out of the day and the glory from the golden sun. Even the keen mountain +air was devoid of relish, and the early morning no longer yielded its +customary zest. + +"Just our luck!" Gus repeated, this time avowedly for the edification of +another young fellow who was busily engaged in sousing his head in the +water of the lake. + +"What are you grumbling about, anyway?" Hazard Van Dorn lifted a +soap-rimmed face questioningly. His eyes were shut. "What's our luck?" + +"Look there!" Gus threw a moody glance skyward. "Some duffer's got ahead +of us. We've been scooped, that's all!" + +Hazard opened his eyes, and caught a fleeting glimpse of a white flag +waving arrogantly on the edge of a wall of rock nearly a mile above his +head. Then his eyes closed with a snap, and his face wrinkled +spasmodically. Gus threw him the towel, and uncommiseratingly watched +him wipe out the offending soap. He felt too blue himself to take stock +in trivialities. + +Hazard groaned. + +"Does it hurt--much?" Gus queried, coldly, without interest, as if it +were no more than his duty to ask after the welfare of his comrade. + +"I guess it does," responded the suffering one. + +"Soap's pretty strong, eh?--Noticed it myself." + +"'Tisn't the soap. It's--it's _that!_" He opened his reddened eyes +and pointed toward the innocent white little flag. "That's what hurts." + +Gus Lafee did not reply, but turned away to start the fire and begin +cooking breakfast. His disappointment and grief were too deep for +anything but silence, and Hazard, who felt likewise, never opened his +mouth as he fed the horses, nor once laid his head against their arching +necks or passed caressing fingers through their manes. The two boys were +blind, also, to the manifold glories of Mirror Lake which reposed at +their very feet. Nine times, had they chosen to move along its margin +the short distance of a hundred yards, could they have seen the sunrise +repeated; nine times, from behind as many successive peaks, could they +have seen the great orb rear his blazing rim; and nine times, had they +but looked into the waters of the lake, could they have seen the +phenomena reflected faithfully and vividly. But all the Titanic grandeur +of the scene was lost to them. They had been robbed of the chief +pleasure of their trip to Yosemite Valley. They had been frustrated in +their long-cherished design upon Half Dome, and hence were rendered +disconsolate and blind to the beauties and the wonders of the place. + +Half Dome rears its ice-scarred head fully five thousand feet above the +level floor of Yosemite Valley. In the name itself of this great rock +lies an accurate and complete description. Nothing more nor less is it +than a cyclopean, rounded dome, split in half as cleanly as an apple +that is divided by a knife. It is, perhaps, quite needless to state that +but one-half remains, hence its name, the other half having been carried +away by the great ice-river in the stormy time of the Glacial Period. In +that dim day one of those frigid rivers gouged a mighty channel from out +the solid rock. This channel to-day is Yosemite Valley. But to return to +the Half Dome. On its northeastern side, by circuitous trails and stiff +climbing, one may gain the Saddle. Against the slope of the Dome the +Saddle leans like a gigantic slab, and from the top of this slab, one +thousand feet in length, curves the great circle to the summit of the +Dome. A few degrees too steep for unaided climbing, these one thousand +feet defied for years the adventurous spirits who fixed yearning eyes +upon the crest above. + +One day, a couple of clear-headed mountaineers had proceeded to insert +iron eye-bolts into holes which they drilled into the rock every few +feet apart. But when they found themselves three hundred feet above the +Saddle, clinging like flies to the precarious wall with on either hand a +yawning abyss, their nerves failed them and they abandoned the +enterprise. So it remained for an indomitable Scotchman, one George +Anderson, finally to achieve the feat. Beginning where they had left +off, drilling and climbing for a week, he had at last set foot upon that +awful summit and gazed down into the depths where Mirror Lake reposed, +nearly a mile beneath. + +In the years which followed, many bold men took advantage of the huge +rope ladder which he had put in place; but one winter ladder, cables and +all were carried away by the snow and ice. True, most of the eye-bolts, +twisted and bent, remained. But few men had since essayed the hazardous +undertaking, and of those few more than one gave up his life on the +treacherous heights, and not one succeeded. + +But Gus Lafee and Hazard Van Dorn had left the smiling valley-land of +California and journeyed into the high Sierras, intent on the great +adventure. And thus it was that their disappointment was deep and +grievous when they awoke on this morning to receive the forestalling +message of the little white flag. + +"Camped at the foot of the Saddle last night and went up at the first +peep of day," Hazard ventured, long after the silent breakfast had been +tucked away and the dishes washed. + +Gus nodded. It was not in the nature of things that a youth's spirits +should long remain at low ebb, and his tongue was beginning to loosen. + +"Guess he's down by now, lying in camp and feeling as big as Alexander," +the other went on. "And I don't blame him, either; only I wish it were +we." + +"You can be sure he's down," Gus spoke up at last. "It's mighty warm on +that naked rock with the sun beating down on it at this time of year. +That was our plan, you know, to go up early and come down early. And any +man, sensible enough to get to the top, is bound to have sense enough to +do it before the rock gets hot and his hands sweaty." + +"And you can be sure he didn't take his shoes with, him." Hazard rolled +over on his back and lazily regarded the speck of flag fluttering +briskly on the sheer edge of the precipice. "Say!" He sat up with a +start. "What's that?" + +A metallic ray of light flashed out from the summit of Half Dome, then a +second and a third. The heads of both boys were craned backward on the +instant, agog with excitement. + +"What a duffer!" Gus cried. "Why didn't he come down when it was cool?" + +Hazard shook his head slowly, as if the question were too deep for +immediate answer and they had better defer judgment. + +The flashes continued, and as the boys soon noted, at irregular +intervals of duration and disappearance. Now they were long, now short; +and again they came and went with great rapidity, or ceased altogether +for several moments at a time. + +"I have it!" Hazard's face lighted up with the coming of understanding. +"I have it! That fellow up there is trying to talk to us. He's flashing +the sunlight down to us on a pocket-mirror--dot, dash; dot, dash; don't +you see?" + +The light also began to break in Gus's face. "Ah, I know! It's what they +do in war-time--signaling. They call it heliographing, don't they? Same +thing as telegraphing, only it's done without wires. And they use the +same dots and dashes, too." + +"Yes, the Morse alphabet. Wish I knew it." + +"Same here. He surely must have something to say to us, or he wouldn't +be kicking up all that rumpus." + +Still the flashes came and went persistently, till Gus exclaimed: "That +chap's in trouble, that's what's the matter with him! Most likely he's +hurt himself or something or other." + +"Go on!" Hazard scouted. + +Gus got out the shotgun and fired both barrels three times in rapid +succession. A perfect flutter of flashes came back before the echoes had +ceased their antics. So unmistakable was the message that even doubting +Hazard was convinced that the man who had forestalled them stood in some +grave danger. + +"Quick, Gus," he cried, "and pack! I'll see to the horses. Our trip +hasn't come to nothing, after all. We've got to go right up Half Dome +and rescue him. Where's the map? How do we get to the Saddle?" + +"'Taking the horse-trail below the Vernal Falls,'" Gus read from the +guide-book, "'one mile of brisk traveling brings the tourist to the +world-famed Nevada Fall. Close by, rising up in all its pomp and glory, +the Cap of Liberty stands guard----" + +"Skip all that!" Hazard impatiently interrupted. "The trail's what we +want." + +"Oh, here it is! 'Following the trail up the side of the fall will bring +you to the forks. The left one leads to Little Yosemite Valley, Cloud's +Rest, and other points.'" + +"Hold on; that'll do! I've got it on the map now," again interrupted +Hazard. "From the Cloud's Rest trail a dotted line leads off to Half +Dome. That shows the trail's abandoned. We'll have to look sharp to find +it. It's a day's journey." + +"And to think of all that traveling, when right here we're at the bottom +of the Dome!" Gus complained, staring up wistfully at the goal. + +"That's because this is Yosemite, and all the more reason for us to +hurry. Come on! Be lively, now!" + +Well used as they were to trail life, but few minutes sufficed to see +the camp equipage on the backs of the packhorses and the boys in the +saddle. In the late twilight of that evening they hobbled their animals +in a tiny mountain meadow, and cooked coffee and bacon for themselves at +the very base of the Saddle. Here, also, before they turned into their +blankets, they found the camp of the unlucky stranger who was destined +to spend the night on the naked roof of the Dome. + +Dawn was brightening into day when the panting lads threw themselves +down at the summit of the Saddle and began taking off their shoes. +Looking down from the great height, they seemed perched upon the +ridgepole of the world, and even the snow-crowned Sierra peaks seemed +beneath them. Directly below, on the one hand, lay Little Yosemite +Valley, half a mile deep; on the other hand, Big Yosemite, a mile. +Already the sun's rays were striking about the adventurers, but the +darkness of night still shrouded the two great gulfs into which they +peered. And above them, bathed in the full day, rose only the majestic +curve of the Dome. + +"What's that for?" Gus asked, pointing to a leather-shielded flask which +Hazard was securely fastening in his shirt pocket. + +"Dutch courage, of course," was the reply. "We'll need all our nerve in +this undertaking, and a little bit more, and," he tapped the flask +significantly, "here's the little bit more." + +"Good idea," Gus commented. + +How they had ever come possessed of this erroneous idea, it would be +hard to discover; but they were young yet, and there remained for them +many uncut pages of life. Believers, also, in the efficacy of whisky as +a remedy for snake-bite, they had brought with them a fair supply of +medicine-chest liquor. As yet they had not touched it. + +"Have some before we start?" Hazard asked. + +Gus looked into the gulf and shook his head. "Better wait till we get up +higher and the climbing is more ticklish." + +Some seventy feet above them projected the first eye-bolt. The winter +accumulations of ice had twisted and bent it down till it did not stand +more than a bare inch and a half above the rock--a most difficult object +to lasso as such a distance. Time and again Hazard coiled his lariat in +true cowboy fashion and made the cast, and time and again was he baffled +by the elusive peg. Nor could Gus do better. Taking advantage of +inequalities in the surface, they scrambled twenty feet up the Dome and +found they could rest in a shallow crevice. The cleft side of the Dome +was so near that they could look over its edge from the crevice and gaze +down the smooth, vertical wall for nearly two thousand feet. It was yet +too dark down below for them to see farther. + +The peg was now fifty feet away, but the path they must cover to +get to it was quite smooth, and ran at an inclination of nearly fifty +degrees. It seemed impossible, in that intervening space, to find a +resting-place. Either the climber must keep going up, or he must slide +down; he could not stop. But just here rose the danger. The Dome was +sphere-shaped, and if he should begin to slide, his course would be, not +to the point from which he had started and where the Saddle would catch +him, but off to the south toward Little Yosemite. This meant a plunge of +half a mile. + +"I'll try it," Gus said simply. + +They knotted the two lariats together, so that they had over a hundred +feet of rope between them; and then each boy tied an end to his waist. + +"If I slide," Gus cautioned, "come in on the slack and brace yourself. +If you don't, you'll follow me, that's all!" + +"Ay, ay!" was the confident response. "Better take a nip before you +start?" + +Gus glanced at the proffered bottle. He knew himself and of what he was +capable. "Wait till I make the peg and you join me. All ready?" + +"Ay." + +He struck out like a cat, on all fours, clawing energetically as he +urged his upward progress, his comrade paying out the rope carefully. At +first his speed was good, but gradually it dwindled. Now he was fifteen +feet from the peg, now ten, now eight--but going, oh, so slowly! Hazard, +looking up from his crevice, felt a contempt for him and disappointment +in him. It did look easy. Now Gus was five feet away, and after a +painful effort, four feet. But when only a yard intervened, he came to a +standstill--not exactly a standstill, for, like a squirrel in a wheel, +he maintained his position on the face of the Dome by the most desperate +clawing. + +He had failed, that was evident. The question now was, how to save +himself. With a sudden, catlike movement he whirled over on his back, +caught his heel in a tiny, saucer-shaped depression and sat up. Then his +courage failed him. Day had at last penetrated to the floor of the +valley, and he was appalled at the frightful distance. + +"Go ahead and make it!" Hazard ordered; but Gus merely shook his head. + +"Then come down!" + +Again he shook his head. This was his ordeal, to sit, nerveless and +insecure, on the brink of the precipice. But Hazard, lying safely in his +crevice, now had to face his own ordeal, but one of a different nature. +When Gus began to slide--as he soon must--would he, Hazard, be able to +take in the slack and then meet the shock as the other tautened the rope +and darted toward the plunge? It seemed doubtful. And there he lay, +apparently safe, but in reality harnessed to death. Then rose the +temptation. Why not cast off the rope about his waist? He would be safe +at all events. It was a simple way out of the difficulty. There was no +need that two should perish. But it was impossible for such temptation +to overcome his pride of race, and his own pride in himself and in his +honor. So the rope remained about him. + +"Come down!" he ordered; but Gus seemed to have become petrified. + +"Come down," he threatened, "or I'll drag you down!" He pulled on the +rope to show he was in earnest. + +"Don't you dare!" Gus articulated through his clenched teeth. + +"Sure, I will, if you don't come!" Again he jerked the rope. + +With a despairing gurgle Gus started, doing his best to work sideways +from the plunge. Hazard, every sense on the alert, almost exulting in +his perfect coolness, took in the slack with deft rapidity. Then, as the +rope began to tighten, he braced himself. The shock drew him half out of +the crevice; but he held firm and served as the center of the circle, +while Gus, with the rope as a radius, described the circumference and +ended up on the extreme southern edge of the Saddle. A few moments later +Hazard was offering him the flask. + +"Take some yourself," Gus said. + +"No; you. I don't need it." + +"And I'm past needing it." Evidently Gus was dubious of the bottle and +its contents. + +Hazard put it away in his pocket. "Are you game," he asked, "or are you +going to give it up?" + +"Never!" Gus protested. "I _am_ game. No Lafee ever showed the +white feather yet. And if I did lose my grit up there, it was only for +the moment--sort of like seasickness. I'm all right now, and I'm going +to the top." + +"Good!" encouraged Hazard. "You lie in the crevice this time, and I'll +show you how easy it is." + +But Gus refused. He held that it was easier and safer for him to try +again, arguing that it was less difficult for his one hundred and +sixteen pounds to cling to the smooth rock than for Hazard's one hundred +and sixty-five; also that it was easier for one hundred and sixty-five +pounds to bring a sliding one hundred and sixteen to a stop than _vice +versa_. And further, that he had the benefit of his previous +experience. Hazard saw the justice of this, although it was with great +reluctance that he gave in. + +Success vindicated Gus's contention. The second time, just as it seemed +as if his slide would be repeated, he made a last supreme effort and +gripped the coveted peg. By means of the rope, Hazard quickly joined +him. The next peg was nearly sixty feet away; but for nearly half that +distance the base of some glacier in the forgotten past had ground a +shallow furrow. Taking advantage of this, it was easy for Gus to lasso +the eye-bolt. And it seemed, as was really the case, that the hardest +part of the task was over. True, the curve steepened to nearly sixty +degrees above them, but a comparatively unbroken line of eye-bolts, six +feet apart, awaited the lads. They no longer had even to use the lasso. +Standing on one peg it was child's play to throw the bight of the rope +over the next and to draw themselves up to it. + +A bronzed and bearded man met them at the top and gripped their hands in +hearty fellowship. + +"Talk about your Mont Blancs!" he exclaimed, pausing in the midst of +greeting them to survey the mighty panorama. "But there's nothing on all +the earth, nor over it, nor under it, to compare with this!" Then he +recollected himself and thanked them for coming to his aid. No, he was +not hurt or injured in any way. Simply because of his own carelessness, +just as he had arrived at the top the previous day, he had dropped his +climbing rope. Of course it was impossible to descend without it. Did +they understand heliographing? No? That was strange! How did they---- + +"Oh, we knew something was the matter," Gus interrupted, "from the way +you flashed when we fired off the shotgun." + +"Find it pretty cold last night without blankets?" Hazard queried. + +"I should say so. I've hardly thawed out yet." + +"Have some of this." Hazard shoved the flask over to him. + +The stranger regarded him quite seriously for a moment, then said, +"My dear fellow, do you see that row of pegs? Since it is my honest +intention to climb down them very shortly, I am forced to decline. +No, I don't think I'll have any, though I thank you just the same." + +Hazard glanced at Gus and then put the flask back in his pocket. But +when they pulled the doubled rope through the last eye-bolt and set foot +on the Saddle, he again drew out the bottle. + +"Now that we're down, we don't need it," he remarked, pithily. "And I've +about come to the conclusion that there isn't very much in Dutch +courage, after all." He gazed up the great curve of the Dome. "Look at +what we've done without it!" + +Several seconds thereafter a party of tourists, gathered at the margin +of Mirror Lake, were astounded at the unwonted phenomenon of a whisky +flask descending upon them like a comet out of a clear sky; and all the +way back to the hotel they marveled greatly at the wonders of nature, +especially meteorites. + + + + +TYPHOON OFF THE COAST OF JAPAN + +[Jack London's first story, published at the age of seventeen] + + +It was four bells in the morning watch. We had just finished breakfast +when the order came forward for the watch on deck to stand by to heave +her to and all hands stand by the boats. + +"Port! hard a port!" cried our sailing-master. "Clew up the topsails! +Let the flying jib run down! Back the jib over to windward and run down +the foresail!" And so was our schooner _Sophie Sutherland_ hove to +off the Japan coast, near Cape Jerimo, on April 10, 1893. + +Then came moments of bustle and confusion. There were eighteen men to +man the six boats. Some were hooking on the falls, others casting off +the lashings; boat-steerers appeared with boat-compasses and +water-breakers, and boat-pullers with the lunch boxes. Hunters were +staggering under two or three shotguns, a rifle and heavy ammunition +box, all of which were soon stowed away with their oilskins and mittens +in the boats. + +The sailing-master gave his last orders, and away we went, pulling three +pairs of oars to gain our positions. We were in the weather boat, and so +had a longer pull than the others. The first, second, and third lee +boats soon had all sail set and were running off to the southward and +westward with the wind beam, while the schooner was running off to +leeward of them, so that in case of accident the boats would have fair +wind home. + +It was a glorious morning, but our boat-steerer shook his head ominously +as he glanced at the rising sun and prophetically muttered: "Red sun in +the morning, sailor take warning." The sun had an angry look, and a few +light, fleecy "nigger-heads" in that quarter seemed abashed and +frightened and soon disappeared. + +Away off to the northward Cape Jerimo reared its black, forbidding head +like some huge monster rising from the deep. The winter's snow, not yet +entirely dissipated by the sun, covered it in patches of glistening +white, over which the light wind swept on its way out to sea. Huge gulls +rose slowly, fluttering their wings in the light breeze and striking +their webbed feet on the surface of the water for over half a mile +before they could leave it. Hardly had the patter, patter died away +when a flock of sea quail rose, and with whistling wings flew away +to windward, where members of a large band of whales were disporting +themselves, their blowings sounding like the exhaust of steam engines. +The harsh, discordant cries of a sea-parrot grated unpleasantly on the +ear, and set half a dozen alert in a small band of seals that were ahead +of us. Away they went, breaching and jumping entirely out of water. A +sea-gull with slow, deliberate flight and long, majestic curves circled +round us, and as a reminder of home a little English sparrow perched +impudently on the fo'castle head, and, cocking his head on one side, +chirped merrily. The boats were soon among the seals, and the bang! +bang! of the guns could be heard from down to leeward. + +The wind was slowly rising, and by three o'clock as, with a dozen seals +in our boat, we were deliberating whether to go on or turn back, the +recall flag was run up at the schooner's mizzen--a sure sign that with +the rising wind the barometer was falling and that our sailing-master +was getting anxious for the welfare of the boats. + +Away we went before the wind with a single reef in our sail. With +clenched teeth sat the boat-steerer, grasping the steering oar firmly +with both hands, his restless eyes on the alert--a glance at the +schooner ahead, as we rose on a sea, another at the mainsheet, and then +one astern where the dark ripple of the wind on the water told him of a +coming puff or a large white-cap that threatened to overwhelm us. The +waves were holding high carnival, performing the strangest antics, as +with wild glee they danced along in fierce pursuit--now up, now down, +here, there, and everywhere, until some great sea of liquid green with +its milk-white crest of foam rose from the ocean's throbbing bosom and +drove the others from view. But only for a moment, for again under new +forms they reappeared. In the sun's path they wandered, where every +ripple, great or small, every little spit or spray looked like molten +silver, where the water lost its dark green color and became a dazzling, +silvery flood, only to vanish and become a wild waste of sullen +turbulence, each dark foreboding sea rising and breaking, then rolling +on again. The dash, the sparkle, the silvery light soon vanished with +the sun, which became obscured by black clouds that were rolling swiftly +in from the west, northwest; apt heralds of the coming storm. + +We soon reached the schooner and found ourselves the last aboard. +In a few minutes the seals were skinned, boats and decks washed, and +we were down below by the roaring fo'castle fire, with a wash, change +of clothes, and a hot, substantial supper before us. Sail had been put +on the schooner, as we had a run of seventy-five miles to make to the +southward before morning, so as to get in the midst of the seals, out +of which we had strayed during the last two days' hunting. + +We had the first watch from eight to midnight. The wind was soon blowing +half a gale, and our sailing-master expected little sleep that night as +he paced up and down the poop. The topsails were soon clewed up and made +fast, then the flying jib run down and furled. Quite a sea was rolling +by this time, occasionally breaking over the decks, flooding them and +threatening to smash the boats. At six bells we were ordered to turn +them over and put on storm lashings. This occupied us till eight bells, +when we were relieved by the mid-watch. I was the last to go below, +doing so just as the watch on deck was furling the spanker. Below all +were asleep except our green hand, the "bricklayer," who was dying of +consumption. The wildly dancing movements of the sea lamp cast a pale, +flickering light through the fo'castle and turned to golden honey the +drops of water on the yellow oilskins. In all the corners dark shadows +seemed to come and go, while up in the eyes of her, beyond the pall +bits, descending from deck to deck, where they seemed to lurk like some +dragon at the cavern's mouth, it was dark as Erebus. Now and again, the +light seemed to penetrate for a moment as the schooner rolled heavier +than usual, only to recede, leaving it darker and blacker than before. +The roar of the wind through the rigging came to the ear muffled like +the distant rumble of a train crossing a trestle or the surf on the +beach, while the loud crash of the seas on her weather bow seemed almost +to rend the beams and planking asunder as it resounded through the +fo'castle. The creaking and groaning of the timbers, stanchions, and +bulkheads, as the strain the vessel was undergoing was felt, served to +drown the groans of the dying man as he tossed uneasily in his bunk. +The working of the foremast against the deck beams caused a shower of +flaky powder to fall, and sent another sound mingling with the tumultous +storm. Small cascades of water streamed from the pall bits from the +fo'castle head above, and, joining issue with the streams from the wet +oilskins, ran along the floor and disappeared aft into the main hold. + +At two bells in the middle watch--that is, in land parlance one o'clock +in the morning--the order was roared out on the fo'castle: "All hands on +deck and shorten sail!" + +Then the sleepy sailors tumbled out of their bunk and into their +clothes, oil-skins, and sea-boots and up on deck. 'Tis when that order +comes on cold, blustering nights that "Jack" grimly mutters: "Who would +not sell a farm and go to sea?" + +It was on deck that the force of the wind could be fully appreciated, +especially after leaving the stifling fo'castle. It seemed to stand +up against you like a wall, making it almost impossible to move on +the heaving decks or to breathe as the fierce gusts came dashing by. +The schooner was hove to under jib, foresail, and mainsail. We proceeded +to lower the foresail and make it fast. The night was dark, greatly +impeding our labor. Still, though not a star or the moon could pierce +the black masses of storm clouds that obscured the sky as they swept +along before the gale, nature aided us in a measure. A soft light +emanated from the movement of the ocean. Each mighty sea, all +phosphorescent and glowing with the tiny lights of myriads of +animalculæ, threatened to overwhelm us with a deluge of fire. Higher and +higher, thinner and thinner, the crest grew as it began to curve and +overtop preparatory to breaking, until with a roar it fell over the +bulwarks, a mass of soft glowing light and tons of water which sent the +sailors sprawling in all directions and left in each nook and cranny +little specks of light that glowed and trembled till the next sea washed +them away, depositing new ones in their places. Sometimes several seas +following each other with great rapidity and thundering down on our +decks filled them full to the bulwarks, but soon they were discharged +through the lee scuppers. + +To reef the mainsail we were forced to run off before the gale under the +single reefed jib. By the time we had finished the wind had forced up +such a tremendous sea that it was impossible to heave her to. Away we +flew on the wings of the storm through the muck and flying spray. A wind +sheer to starboard, then another to port as the enormous seas struck the +schooner astern and nearly broached her to. As day broke we took in the +jib, leaving not a sail unfurled. Since we had begun scudding she had +ceased to take the seas over her bow, but amidships they broke fast +and furious. It was a dry storm in the matter of rain, but the force +of the wind filled the air with fine spray, which flew as high as the +crosstrees and cut the face like a knife, making it impossible to see +over a hundred yards ahead. The sea was a dark lead color as with long, +slow, majestic roll it was heaped up by the wind into liquid mountains +of foam. The wild antics of the schooner were sickening as she forged +along. She would almost stop, as though climbing a mountain, then +rapidly rolling to right and left as she gained the summit of a huge +sea, she steadied herself and paused for a moment as though affrighted +at the yawning precipice before her. Like an avalanche, she shot forward +and down as the sea astern struck her with the force of a thousand +battering rams, burying her bow to the catheads in the milky foam at the +bottom that came on deck in all directions--forward, astern, to right +and left, through the hawse-pipes and over the rail. + +The wind began to drop, and by ten o'clock we were talking of heaving +her to. We passed a ship, two schooners, and a four-masted barkentine +under the smallest of canvas, and at eleven o'clock, running up the +spanker and jib, we hove her to, and in another hour we were beating +back again against the aftersea under full sail to regain the sealing +ground away to the westward. + +Below, a couple of men were sewing the "bricklayer's" body in canvas +preparatory to the sea burial. And so with the storm passed away the +"bricklayer's" soul. + + + + +THE LOST POACHER + + +"But they won't take excuses. You're across the line, and that's enough. +They'll take you. In you go, Siberia and the salt-mines. And as for +Uncle Sam, why, what's he to know about it? Never a word will get back +to the States. 'The _Mary Thomas_,' the papers will say, 'the +_Mary Thomas_ lost with all hands. Probably in a typhoon in the +Japanese seas.' That's what the papers will say, and people, too. In you +go, Siberia and the salt-mines. Dead to the world and kith and kin, +though you live fifty years." + +In such manner John Lewis, commonly known as the "sea-lawyer," settled +the matter out of hand. + +It was a serious moment in the forecastle of the _Mary Thomas_. No +sooner had the watch below begun to talk the trouble over, than the +watch on deck came down and joined them. As there was no wind, every +hand could be spared with the exception of the man at the wheel, and he +remained only for the sake of discipline. Even "Bub" Russell, the +cabin-boy, had crept forward to hear what was going on. + +However, it was a serious moment, as the grave faces of the sailors bore +witness. For the three preceding months the _Mary Thomas_ sealing +schooner, had hunted the seal pack along the coast of Japan and north to +Bering Sea. Here, on the Asiatic side of the sea, they were forced to +give over the chase, or rather, to go no farther; for beyond, the +Russian cruisers patrolled forbidden ground, where the seals might breed +in peace. + +A week before she had fallen into a heavy fog accompanied by calm. Since +then the fog-bank had not lifted, and the only wind had been light airs +and catspaws. This in itself was not so bad, for the sealing schooners +are never in a hurry so long as they are in the midst of the seals; but +the trouble lay in the fact that the current at this point bore heavily +to the north. Thus the _Mary Thomas_ had unwittingly drifted across +the line, and every hour she was penetrating, unwillingly, farther and +farther into the dangerous waters where the Russian bear kept guard. + +How far she had drifted no man knew. The sun had not been visible +for a week, nor the stars, and the captain had been unable to take +observations in order to determine his position. At any moment a cruiser +might swoop down and hale the crew away to Siberia. The fate of other +poaching seal-hunters was too well known to the men of the _Mary +Thomas_, and there was cause for grave faces. + +"Mine friends," spoke up a German boat-steerer, "it vas a pad piziness. +Shust as ve make a big catch, und all honest, somedings go wrong, und +der Russians nab us, dake our skins and our schooner, und send us mit +der anarchists to Siberia. Ach! a pretty pad piziness!" + +"Yes, that's where it hurts," the sea lawyer went on. "Fifteen hundred +skins in the salt piles, and all honest, a big pay-day coming to every +man Jack of us, and then to be captured and lose it all! It'd be +different if we'd been poaching, but it's all honest work in open +water." + +"But if we haven't done anything wrong, they can't do anything to us, +can they?" Bub queried. + +"It strikes me as 'ow it ain't the proper thing for a boy o' your age +shovin' in when 'is elders is talkin'," protested an English sailor, +from over the edge of his bunk. + +"Oh, that's all right, Jack," answered the sea-lawyer. "He's a perfect +right to. Ain't he just as liable to lose his wages as the rest of us?" + +"Wouldn't give thruppence for them!" Jack sniffed back. He had been +planning to go home and see his family in Chelsea when he was paid off, +and he was now feeling rather blue over the highly possible loss, not +only of his pay, but of his liberty. + +"How are they to know?" the sea-lawyer asked in answer to Bub's previous +question. "Here we are in forbidden water. How do they know but what we +came here of our own accord? Here we are, fifteen hundred skins in the +hold. How do they, know whether we got them in open water or in the +closed sea? Don't you see, Bub, the evidence is all against us. If you +caught a man with his pockets full of apples like those which grow on +your tree, and if you caught him in your tree besides, what'd you think +if he told you he couldn't help it, and had just been sort of blown +there, and that anyway those apples came from some other tree--what'd +you think, eh?" + +Bub saw it clearly when put in that light, and shook his head +despondently. + +"You'd rather be dead than go to Siberia," one of the boat-pullers said. +"They put you into the salt-mines and work you till you die. Never see +daylight again. Why, I've heard tell of one fellow that was chained to +his mate, and that mate died. And they were both chained together! And +if they send you to the quicksilver mines you get salivated. I'd rather +be hung than salivated." + +"Wot's salivated?" Jack asked, suddenly sitting up in his bunk at the +hint of fresh misfortunes. + +"Why, the quicksilver gets into your blood; I think that's the way. And +your gums all swell like you had the scurvy, only worse, and your teeth +get loose in your jaws. And big ulcers form, and then you die horrible. +The strongest man can't last long a-mining quicksilver." + +"A pad piziness," the boat-steerer reiterated, dolorously, in the +silence which followed. "A pad piziness. I vish I was in Yokohama. Eh? +Vot vas dot?" + +The vessel had suddenly heeled over. The decks were aslant. A tin +pannikin rolled down the inclined plane, rattling and banging. From +above came the slapping of canvas and the quivering rat-tat-tat of the +after leech of the loosely stretched foresail. Then the mate's voice +sang down the hatch, "All hands on deck and make sail!" + +Never had such summons been answered with more enthusiasm. The calm had +broken. The wind had come which was to carry them south into safety. +With a wild cheer all sprang on deck. Working with mad haste, they flung +out topsails, flying jibs and stay-sails. As they worked, the fog-bank +lifted and the black vault of heaven, bespangled with the old familiar +stars, rushed into view. When all was ship-shape, the _Mary Thomas_ +was lying gallantly over on her side to a beam wind and plunging ahead +due south. + +"Steamer's lights ahead on the port bow, sir!" cried the lookout from +his station on the forecastle-head. There was excitement in the man's +voice. + +The captain sent Bub below for his night-glasses. Everybody crowded to +the lee-rail to gaze at the suspicious stranger, which already began to +loom up vague and indistinct. In those unfrequented waters the chance +was one in a thousand that it could be anything else than a Russian +patrol. The captain was still anxiously gazing through the glasses, when +a flash of flame left the stranger's side, followed by the loud report +of a cannon. The worst fears were confirmed. It was a patrol, evidently +firing across the bows of the _Mary Thomas_ in order to make her +heave to. + +"Hard down with your helm!" the captain commanded the steers-man, all +the life gone out of his voice. Then to the crew, "Back over the jib and +foresail! Run down the flying jib! Clew up the foretopsail! And aft here +and swing on to the main-sheet!" + +The _Mary Thomas_ ran into the eye of the wind, lost headway, and +fell to courtesying gravely to the long seas rolling up from the west. + +The cruiser steamed a little nearer and lowered a boat. The sealers +watched in heartbroken silence. They could see the white bulk of the +boat as it was slacked away to the water, and its crew sliding aboard. +They could hear the creaking of the davits and the commands of the +officers. Then the boat sprang away under the impulse of the oars, and +came toward them. The wind had been rising, and already the sea was too +rough to permit the frail craft to lie alongside the tossing schooner; +but watching their chance, and taking advantage of the boarding ropes +thrown to them, an officer and a couple of men clambered aboard. +The boat then sheered off into safety and lay to its oars, a young +midshipman, sitting in the stern and holding the yoke-lines, in charge. + +The officer, whose uniform disclosed his rank as that of second +lieutenant in the Russian navy, went below with the captain of the +_Mary Thomas_ to look at the ship's papers. A few minutes later he +emerged, and upon his sailors removing the hatch-covers, passed down +into the hold with a lantern to inspect the salt piles. It was a goodly +heap which confronted him--fifteen hundred fresh skins, the season's +catch; and under the circumstances he could have had but one conclusion. + +"I am very sorry," he said, in broken English to the sealing captain, +when he again came on deck, "but it is my duty, in the name of the tsar, +to seize your vessel as a poacher caught with fresh skins in the closed +sea. The penalty, as you may know, is confiscation and imprisonment." + +The captain of the _Mary Thomas_ shrugged his shoulders in seeming +indifference, and turned away. Although they may restrain all outward +show, strong men, under unmerited misfortune, are sometimes very close +to tears. Just then the vision of his little California home, and of the +wife and two yellow-haired boys, was strong upon him, and there was a +strange, choking sensation in his throat, which made him afraid that if +he attempted to speak he would sob instead. + +And also there was upon him the duty he owed his men. No weakness before +them, for he must be a tower of strength to sustain them in misfortune. +He had already explained to the second lieutenant, and knew the +hopelessness of the situation. As the sea-lawyer had said, the evidence +was all against him. So he turned aft, and fell to pacing up and down +the poop of the vessel over which he was no longer commander. + +The Russian officer now took temporary charge. He ordered more of his +men aboard, and had all the canvas clewed up and furled snugly away. +While this was being done, the boat plied back and forth between the +two vessels, passing a heavy hawser, which was made fast to the great +towing-bitts on the schooner's forecastle-head. During all this work +the sealers stood about in sullen groups. It was madness to think of +resisting, with the guns of a man-of-war not a biscuit-toss away; but +they refused to lend a hand, preferring instead to maintain a gloomy +silence. + +Having accomplished his task, the lieutenant ordered all but four of his +men back into the boat. Then the midshipman, a lad of sixteen, looking +strangely mature and dignified in his uniform and sword, came aboard to +take command of the captured sealer. Just as the lieutenant prepared to +depart, his eyes chanced to alight upon Bub. Without a word of warning, +he seized him by the arm and dropped him over the rail into the waiting +boat; and then, with a parting wave of his hand, he followed him. + +It was only natural that Bub should be frightened at this unexpected +happening. All the terrible stories he had heard of the Russians served +to make him fear them, and now returned to his mind with double force. +To be captured by them was bad enough, but to be carried off by them, +away from his comrades, was a fate of which he had not dreamed. + +"Be a good boy, Bub," the captain called to him, as the boat drew away +from the _Mary Thomas_'s side, "and tell the truth!" + +"Aye, aye, sir!" he answered, bravely enough, by all outward appearance. +He felt a certain pride of race, and was ashamed to be a coward before +these strange enemies, these wild Russian bears. + +"Und be politeful!" the German boat-steerer added, his rough voice +lifting across the water like a fog-horn. + +Bub waved his hand in farewell, and his mates clustered along the +rail as they answered with a cheering shout. He found room in the +stern-sheets, where he fell to regarding the lieutenant. He didn't look +so wild or bearish, after all--very much like other men, Bub concluded, +and the sailors were much the same as all other man-of-war's men he had +ever known. Nevertheless, as his feet struck the steel deck of the +cruiser, he felt as if he had entered the portals of a prison. + +For a few minutes he was left unheeded. The sailors hoisted the boat up, +and swung it in on the davits. Then great clouds of black smoke poured +out of the funnels, and they were under way--to Siberia, Bub could not +help but think. He saw the _Mary Thomas_ swing abruptly into line +as she took the pressure from the hawser, and her side-lights, red and +green, rose and fell as she was towed through the sea. + +Bub's eyes dimmed at the melancholy sight, but--but just then the +lieutenant came to take him down to the commander, and he straightened +up and set his lips firmly, as if this were a very commonplace affair +and he were used to being sent to Siberia every day in the week. The +cabin in which the commander sat was like a palace compared to the +humble fittings of the _Mary Thomas_, and the commander himself, in +gold lace and dignity, was a most august personage, quite unlike the +simple man who navigated his schooner on the trail of the seal pack. + +Bub now quickly learned why he had been brought aboard, and in the +prolonged questioning which followed, told nothing but the plain truth. +The truth was harmless; only a lie could have injured his cause. He did +not know much, except that they had been sealing far to the south in +open water, and that when the calm and fog came down upon them, being +close to the line, they had drifted across. Again and again he insisted +that they had not lowered a boat or shot a seal in the week they had +been drifting about in the forbidden sea; but the commander chose to +consider all that he said to be a tissue of falsehoods, and adopted a +bullying tone in an effort to frighten the boy. He threatened and +cajoled by turns, but failed in the slightest to shake Bub's statements, +and at last ordered him out of his presence. + +By some oversight, Bub was not put in anybody's charge, and wandered up +on deck unobserved. Sometimes the sailors, in passing, bent curious +glances upon him, but otherwise he was left strictly alone. Nor could he +have attracted much attention, for he was small, the night dark, and the +watch on deck intent on its own business. Stumbling over the strange +decks, he made his way aft where he could look upon the side-lights of +the _Mary Thomas_, following steadily in the rear. + +For a long while he watched, and then lay down in the darkness close to +where the hawser passed over the stern to the captured schooner. Once +an officer came up and examined the straining rope to see if it were +chafing, but Bub cowered away in the shadow undiscovered. This, however, +gave him an idea which concerned the lives and liberties of twenty-two +men, and which was to avert crushing sorrow from more than one happy +home many thousand miles away. + +In the first place, he reasoned, the crew were all guiltless of any +crime, and yet were being carried relentlessly away to imprisonment in +Siberia--a living death, he had heard, and he believed it implicitly. +In the second place, he was a prisoner, hard and fast, with no chance +of escape. In the third, it was possible for the twenty-two men on the +_Mary Thomas_ to escape. The only thing which bound them was a +four-inch hawser. They dared not cut it at their end, for a watch was +sure to be maintained upon it by their Russian captors; but at this end, +ah! at his end---- + +Bub did not stop to reason further. Wriggling close to the hawser, he +opened his jack-knife and went to work, The blade was not very sharp, +and he sawed away, rope-yarn by rope-yarn, the awful picture of the +solitary Siberian exile he must endure growing clearer and more terrible +at every stroke. Such a fate was bad enough to undergo with one's +comrades, but to face it alone seemed frightful. And besides, the very +act he was performing was sure to bring greater punishment upon him. + +In the midst of such somber thoughts, he heard footsteps approaching. +He wriggled away into the shadow. An officer stopped where he had been +working, half-stooped to examine the hawser, then changed his mind and +straightened up. For a few minutes he stood there, gazing at the lights +of the captured schooner, and then went forward again. + +Now was the time! Bub crept back and went on sawing. Now two parts were +severed. Now three. But one remained. The tension upon this was so great +that it readily yielded. Splash! The freed end went overboard. He lay +quietly, his heart in his mouth, listening. No one on the cruiser but +himself had heard. + +He saw the red and green lights of the _Mary Thomas_ grow dimmer +and dimmer. Then a faint hallo came over the water from the Russian +prize crew. Still nobody heard. The smoke continued to pour out of the +cruiser's funnels, and her propellers throbbed as mightily as ever. + +What was happening on the _Mary Thomas_? Bub could only surmise; +but of one thing he was certain: his comrades would assert themselves +and overpower the four sailors and the midshipman. A few minutes later +he saw a small flash, and straining his ears heard the very faint report +of a pistol. Then, oh joy! both the red and green lights suddenly +disappeared. The _Mary Thomas_ was retaken! + +Just as an officer came aft, Bub crept forward, and hid away in +one of the boats. Not an instant too soon. The alarm was given. Loud +voices rose in command. The cruiser altered her course. An electric +search-light began to throw its white rays across the sea, here, there, +everywhere; but in its flashing path no tossing schooner was revealed. + +Bub went to sleep soon after that, nor did he wake till the gray of +dawn. The engines were pulsing monotonously, and the water, splashing +noisily, told him the decks were being washed down. One sweeping glance, +and he saw that they were alone on the expanse of ocean. The _Mary +Thomas_ had escaped. As he lifted his head, a roar of laughter went +up from the sailors. Even the officer, who ordered him taken below and +locked up, could not quite conceal the laughter in his eyes. Bub thought +often in the days of confinement which followed, that they were not very +angry with him for what he had done. + +He was not far from right. There is a certain innate nobility deep down +in the hearts of all men, which forces them to admire a brave act, even +if it is performed by an enemy. The Russians were in nowise different +from other men. True, a boy had outwitted them; but they could not blame +him, and they were sore puzzled as to what to do with him. It would +never do to take a little mite like him in to represent all that +remained of the lost poacher. + +So, two weeks later, a United States man-of-war, steaming out of the +Russian port of Vladivostok, was signaled by a Russian cruiser. A boat +passed between the two ships, and a small boy dropped over the rail upon +the deck of the American vessel. A week later he was put ashore at +Hakodate, and after some telegraphing, his fare was paid on the railroad +to Yokohama. + +From the depot he hurried through the quaint Japanese streets to the +harbor, and hired a _sampan_ boatman to put him aboard a certain +vessel whose familiar rigging had quickly caught his eye. Her gaskets +were off, her sails unfurled; she was just starting back to the United +States. As he came closer, a crowd of sailors sprang upon the forecastle +head, and the windlass-bars rose and fell as the anchor was torn from +its muddy bottom. + +"'Yankee ship come down the ribber!'" the sea-lawyer's voice rolled out +as he led the anchor song. + +"'Pull, my bully boys, pull!'" roared back the old familiar chorus, the +men's bodies lifting and bending to the rhythm. + +Bub Russell paid the boatman and stepped on deck. The anchor was +forgotten. A mighty cheer went up from the men, and almost before he +could catch his breath he was on the shoulders of the captain, +surrounded by his mates, and endeavoring to answer twenty questions to +the second. + +The next day a schooner hove to off a Japanese fishing village, sent +ashore four sailors and a little midshipman, and sailed away. These men +did not talk English, but they had money and quickly made their way to +Yokohama. From that day the Japanese village folk never heard anything +more about them, and they are still a much-talked-of mystery. As the +Russian government never said anything about the incident, the United +States is still ignorant of the whereabouts of the lost poacher, nor has +she ever heard, officially, of the way in which some of her citizens +"shanghaied" five subjects of the tsar. Even nations have secrets +sometimes. + + + + +THE BANKS OF THE SACRAMENTO + + "And it's blow, ye winds, heigh-ho, + For Cal-i-for-ni-o; + For there's plenty of gold so I've been told, + On the banks of the Sacramento!" + + +It was only a little boy, singing in a shrill treble the sea chantey +which seamen sing the wide world over when they man the capstan bars and +break the anchors out for "Frisco" port. It was only a little boy who +had never seen the sea, but two hundred feet beneath him rolled the +Sacramento. "Young" Jerry he was called, after "Old" Jerry, his father, +from whom he had learned the song, as well as received his shock of +bright-red hair, his blue, dancing eyes, and his fair and inevitably +freckled skin. + +For Old Jerry had been a sailor, and had followed the sea till middle +life, haunted always by the words of the ringing chantey. Then one day +he had sung the song in earnest, in an Asiatic port, swinging and +thrilling round the capstan-circle with twenty others. And at San +Francisco he turned his back upon his ship and upon the sea, and went +to behold with his own eyes the banks of the Sacramento. + +He beheld the gold, too, for he found employment at the Yellow Dream +mine, and proved of utmost usefulness in rigging the great ore-cables +across the river and two hundred feet above its surface. + +After that he took charge of the cables and kept them in repair, and ran +them and loved them, and became himself an indispensable fixture of the +Yellow Dream mine. Then he loved pretty Margaret Kelly; but she had left +him and Young Jerry, the latter barely toddling, to take up her last +long sleep in the little graveyard among the great sober pines. + +Old Jerry never went back to the sea. He remained by his cables, and +lavished upon them and Young Jerry all the love of his nature. When evil +days came to the Yellow-Dream, he still remained in the employ of the +company as watchman over the all but abandoned property. + +But this morning he was not visible. Young Jerry only was to be seen, +sitting on the cabin step and singing the ancient chantey. He had cooked +and eaten his breakfast all by himself, and had just come out to take a +look at the world. Twenty feet before him stood the steel drum round +which the endless cable worked. By the drum, snug and fast, was the +ore-car. Following with his eyes the dizzy flight of the cables to the +farther bank, he could see the other drum and the other car. + +The contrivance was worked by gravity, the loaded car crossing the river +by virtue of its own weight, and at the same time dragging the empty car +back. The loaded car being emptied, and the empty car being loaded with +more ore, the performance could be repeated--a performance which had +been repeated tens of thousands of times since the day Old Jerry became +the keeper of the cables. + +Young Jerry broke off his song at the sound of approaching footsteps, A +tall, blue-shirted man, a rifle across the hollow of his arm, came out +from the gloom of the pine-trees. It was Hall, watchman of the Yellow +Dragon mine, the cables of which spanned the Sacramento a mile farther +up. + +"Hello, younker!" was his greeting. "What you doin' here by your +lonesome?" + +"Oh, bachin'," Jerry tried to answer unconcernedly, as if it were a very +ordinary sort of thing. "Dad's away, you see." + +"Where's he gone?" the man asked. + +"San Francisco. Went last night. His brother's dead in the old country, +and he's gone down to see the lawyers. Won't be back till tomorrow +night." + +So spoke Jerry, and with pride, because of the responsibility which had +fallen to him of keeping an eye on the property of the Yellow Dream, and +the glorious adventure of living alone on the cliff above the river and +of cooking his own meals. + +"Well, take care of yourself," Hall said, "and don't monkey with the +cables. I'm goin' to see if I can't pick up a deer in the Cripple Cow +Cañon." + +"It's goin' to rain, I think," Jerry said, with mature deliberation. + +"And it's little I mind a wettin'," Hall laughed, as he strode away +among the trees. + +Jerry's prediction concerning rain was more than fulfilled. By ten +o'clock the pines were swaying and moaning, the cabin windows rattling, +and the rain driving by in fierce squalls. At half past eleven he +kindled a fire, and promptly at the stroke of twelve sat down to his +dinner. + +No out-of-doors for him that day, he decided, when he had washed the few +dishes and put them neatly away; and he wondered how wet Hall was and +whether he had succeeded in picking up a deer. + +At one o'clock there came a knock at the door, and when he opened it a +man and a woman staggered in on the breast of a great gust of wind. They +were Mr. and Mrs. Spillane, ranchers, who lived in a lonely valley a +dozen miles back from the river. + +"Where's Hall?" was Spillane's opening speech, and he spoke sharply and +quickly. + +Jerry noted that he was nervous and abrupt in his movements, and that +Mrs. Spillane seemed laboring under some strong anxiety. She was a thin, +washed-out, worked-out woman, whose life of dreary and unending toil had +stamped itself harshly upon her face. It was the same life that had +bowed her husband's shoulders and gnarled his hands and turned his hair +to a dry and dusty gray. + +"He's gone hunting up Cripple Cow," Jerry answered. "Did you want to +cross?" + +The woman began to weep quietly, while Spillane dropped a troubled +exclamation and strode to the window. Jerry joined him in gazing out to +where the cables lost themselves in the thick downpour. + +It was the custom of the backwoods people in that section of country +to cross the Sacramento on the Yellow Dragon cable. For this service a +small toll was charged, which tolls the Yellow Dragon Company applied to +the payment of Hall's wages. + +"We've got to get across, Jerry," Spillane said, at the same time +jerking his thumb over his shoulder in the direction of his wife. "Her +father's hurt at the Clover Leaf. Powder explosion. Not expected to +live. We just got word." + +Jerry felt himself fluttering inwardly. He knew that Spillane wanted to +cross on the Yellow Dream cable, and in the absence of his father he +felt that he dared not assume such a responsibility, for the cable had +never been used for passengers; in fact, had not been used at all for a +long time. + +"Maybe Hall will be back soon," he said. + +Spillane shook his head, and demanded, "Where's your father?" + +"San Francisco," Jerry answered, briefly. + +Spillane groaned, and fiercely drove his clenched fist into the palm of +the other hand. His wife was crying more audibly, and Jerry could hear +her murmuring, "And daddy's dyin', dyin'!" + +The tears welled up in his own eyes, and he stood irresolute, not +knowing what he should do. But the man decided for him. + +"Look here, kid," he said, with determination, "the wife and me are +goin' over on this here cable of yours! Will you run it for us?" + +Jerry backed slightly away. He did it unconsciously, as if recoiling +instinctively from something unwelcome. + +"Better see if Hall's back," he suggested. + +"And if he ain't?" + +Again Jerry hesitated. + +"I'll stand for the risk," Spillane added. "Don't you see, kid, we've +simply got to cross!" + +Jerry nodded his head reluctantly. + +"And there ain't no use waitin' for Hall," Spillane went on. "You know +as well as me he ain't back from Cripple Cow this time of day! So come +along and let's get started." + +No wonder that Mrs. Spillane seemed terrified as they helped her +into the ore-car--so Jerry thought, as he gazed into the apparently +fathomless gulf beneath her. For it was so filled with rain and cloud, +hurtling and curling in the fierce blast, that the other shore, seven +hundred feet away, was invisible, while the cliff at their feet dropped +sheer down and lost itself in the swirling vapor. By all appearances it +might be a mile to bottom instead of two hundred feet. + +"All ready?" he asked. + +"Let her go!" Spillane shouted, to make himself heard above the roar of +the wind. + +He had clambered in beside his wife, and was holding one of her hands in +his. + +Jerry looked upon this with disapproval. "You'll need all your hands for +holdin' on, the way the wind's yowlin.'" + +The man and the woman shifted their hands accordingly, tightly gripping +the sides of the car, and Jerry slowly and carefully released the brake. +The drum began to revolve as the endless cable passed round it, and the +car slid slowly out into the chasm, its trolley wheels rolling on the +stationary cable overhead, to which it was suspended. + +It was not the first time Jerry had worked the cable, but it was the +first time he had done so away from the supervising eye of his father. +By means of the brake he regulated the speed of the car. It needed +regulating, for at times, caught by the stronger gusts of wind, it +swayed violently back and forth; and once, just before it was swallowed +up in a rain squall, it seemed about to spill out its human contents. + +After that Jerry had no way of knowing where the car was except by means +of the cable. This he watched keenly as it glided around the drum. +"Three hundred feet," he breathed to himself, as the cable markings went +by, "three hundred and fifty, four hundred; four hundred and----" + +The cable had stopped. Jerry threw off the brake, but it did not move. +He caught the cable with his hands and tried to start it by tugging +smartly. Something had gone wrong. What? He could not guess; he could +not see. Looking up, he could vaguely make out the empty car, which had +been crossing from the opposite cliff at a speed equal to that of the +loaded car. It was about two hundred and fifty feet away. That meant, he +knew, that somewhere in the gray obscurity, two hundred feet above the +river and two hundred and fifty feet from the other bank, Spillane and +his wife were suspended and stationary. + +Three times Jerry shouted with all the shrill force of his lungs, but +no answering cry came out of the storm. It was impossible for him to +hear them or to make himself heard. As he stood for a moment, thinking +rapidly, the flying clouds seemed to thin and lift. He caught a brief +glimpse of the swollen Sacramento beneath, and a briefer glimpse of the +car and the man and woman. Then the clouds descended thicker than ever. + +The boy examined the drum closely, and found nothing the matter with it. +Evidently it was the drum on the other side that had gone wrong. He was +appalled at thought of the man and woman out there in the midst of the +storm, hanging over the abyss, rocking back and forth in the frail car +and ignorant of what was taking place on shore. And he did not like to +think of their hanging there while he went round by the Yellow Dragon +cable to the other drum. + +But he remembered a block and tackle in the tool-house, and ran and +brought it. They were double blocks, and he murmured aloud, "A purchase +of four," as he made the tackle fast to the endless cable. Then he +heaved upon it, heaved until it seemed that his arms were being drawn +out from their sockets and that his shoulder muscles would be ripped +asunder. Yet the cable did not budge. Nothing remained but to cross over +to the other side. + +He was already soaking wet, so he did not mind the rain as he ran over +the trail to the Yellow Dragon. The storm was with him, and it was easy +going, although there was no Hall at the other end of it to man the +brake for him and regulate the speed of the car. This he did for +himself, however, by means of a stout rope, which he passed, with a +turn, round the stationary cable. + +As the full force of the wind struck him in mid-air, swaying the cable +and whistling and roaring past it, and rocking and careening the car, he +appreciated more fully what must be the condition of mind of Spillane +and his wife. And this appreciation gave strength to him, as, safely +across, he fought his way up the other bank, in the teeth of the gale, +to the Yellow Dream cable. + +To his consternation, he found the drum in thorough working order. +Everything was running smoothly at both ends. Where was the hitch? In +the middle, without a doubt. + +From this side, the car containing Spillane was only two hundred and +fifty feet away. He could make out the man and woman through the +whirling vapor, crouching in the bottom of the car and exposed to the +pelting rain and the full fury of the wind. In a lull between the +squalls he shouted to Spillane to examine the trolley of the car. + +Spillane heard, for he saw him rise up cautiously on his knees, and with +his hands go over both trolley-wheels. Then he turned his face toward +the bank. + +"She's all right, kid!" + +Jerry heard the words, faint and far, as from a remote distance. Then +what was the matter? Nothing remained but the other and empty car, which +he could not see, but which he knew to be there, somewhere in that +terrible gulf two hundred feet beyond Spillane's car. + +His mind was made up on the instant. He was only fourteen years old, +slightly and wirily built; but his life had been lived among the +mountains, his father had taught him no small measure of "sailoring," +and he was not particularly afraid of heights. + +In the tool-box by the drum he found an old monkey-wrench and a short +bar of iron, also a coil of fairly new Manila rope. He looked in vain +for a piece of board with which to rig a "boatswain's chair." There was +nothing at hand but large planks, which he had no means of sawing, so he +was compelled to do without the more comfortable form of saddle. + +The saddle he rigged was very simple. With the rope he made merely a +large loop round the stationary cable, to which hung the empty car. When +he sat in the loop his hands could just reach the cable conveniently, +and where the rope was likely to fray against the cable he lashed his +coat, in lieu of the old sack he would have used had he been able to +find one. + +These preparations swiftly completed, he swung out over the chasm, +sitting in the rope saddle and pulling himself along the cable by his +hands. With him he carried the monkey-wrench and short iron bar and a +few spare feet of rope. It was a slightly up-hill pull, but this he did +not mind so much as the wind. When the furious gusts hurled him back and +forth, sometimes half twisting him about, and he gazed down into the +gray depths, he was aware that he was afraid. It was an old cable. What +if it should break under his weight and the pressure of the wind? + +It was fear he was experiencing, honest fear, and he knew that there was +a "gone" feeling in the pit of his stomach, and a trembling of the knees +which he could not quell. + +But he held himself bravely to the task. The cable was old and worn, +sharp pieces of wire projected from it, and his hands were cut and +bleeding by the time he took his first rest, and held a shouted +conversation with Spillane. The car was directly beneath him and only a +few feet away, so he was able to explain the condition of affairs and +his errand. + +"Wish I could help you," Spillane shouted at him as he started on, "but +the wife's gone all to pieces! Anyway, kid, take care of yourself! I got +myself in this fix, but it's up to you to get me out!" + +"Oh, I'll do it!" Jerry shouted back. "Tell Mrs. Spillane that she'll be +ashore now in a jiffy!" + +In the midst of pelting rain, which half-blinded him, swinging from side +to side like a rapid and erratic pendulum, his torn hands paining him +severely and his lungs panting from his exertions and panting from the +very air which the wind sometimes blew into his mouth with strangling +force, he finally arrived at the empty car. + +A single glance showed him that he had not made the dangerous journey in +vain. The front trolley-wheel, loose from long wear, had jumped the +cable, and the cable was now jammed tightly between the wheel and the +sheave-block. + +One thing was clear--the wheel must be removed from the block. A second +thing was equally clear--while the wheel was being removed the car would +have to be fastened to the cable by the rope he had brought. + +At the end of a quarter of an hour, beyond making the car secure, he +had accomplished nothing. The key which bound the wheel on its axle was +rusted and jammed. He hammered at it with one hand and held on the best +he could with the other, but the wind persisted in swinging and twisting +his body, and made his blows miss more often than not. Nine-tenths of +the strength he expended was in trying to hold himself steady. For fear +that he might drop the monkey-wrench he made it fast to his wrist with +his handkerchief. + +At the end of half an hour Jerry had hammered the key clear, but he +could not draw it out. A dozen times it seemed that he must give up +in despair, that all the danger and toil he had gone through were for +nothing. Then an idea came to him, and he went through his pockets with +feverish haste, and found what he sought--a ten-penny nail. + +But for that nail, put in his pocket he knew not when or why, he would +have had to make another trip over the cable and back. Thrusting the +nail through the looped head of the key, he at last had a grip, and in +no time the key was out. + +Then came punching and prying with the iron bar to get the wheel itself +free from where it was jammed by the cable against the side of the +block. After that Jerry replaced the wheel, and by means of the rope, +heaved up on the car till the trolley once more rested properly on the +cable. + +All this took time. More than an hour and a half had elapsed since his +arrival at the empty car. And now, for the first time, he dropped out of +his saddle and down into the car. He removed the detaining ropes, and +the trolley-wheels began slowly to revolve. The car was moving, and he +knew that somewhere beyond, although he could not see, the car of +Spillane was likewise moving, and in the opposite direction. + +There was no need for a brake, for his weight sufficiently +counterbalanced the weight in the other car; and soon he saw the cliff +rising out of the cloud depths and the old familiar drum going round and +round. + +Jerry climbed out and made the car securely fast. He did it deliberately +and carefully, and then, quite unhero-like, he sank down by the drum, +regardless of the pelting storm, and burst out sobbing. + +There were many reasons why he sobbed--partly from the pain of his +hands, which was excruciating; partly from exhaustion; partly from +relief and release from the nerve-tension he had been under for so long; +and in a large measure from thankfulness that the man and woman were +saved. + +They were not there to thank him; but somewhere beyond that howling, +storm-driven gulf he knew they were hurrying over the trail toward the +Clover Leaf. + +Jerry staggered to the cabin, and his hand left the white knob red with +blood as he opened the door, but he took no notice of it. + +He was too proudly contented with himself, for he was certain that he +had done well, and he was honest enough to admit to himself that he had +done well. But a small regret arose and persisted in his thoughts--if +his father had only been there to see! + + + + +CHRIS FARRINGTON: ABLE SEAMAN + + +"If you vas in der old country ships, a liddle shaver like you vood pe +only der boy, und you vood wait on der able seamen. Und ven der able +seaman sing out, 'Boy, der water-jug!' you vood jump quick, like a shot, +und bring der water-jug. Und ven der able seaman sing out, 'Boy, my +boots!' you vood get der boots. Und you vood pe politeful, und say +'Yessir' und 'No sir.' But you pe in der American ship, und you t'ink +you are so good as der able seamen. Chris, mine boy, I haf ben a +sailorman for twenty-two years, und do you t'ink you are so good as me? +I vas a sailorman pefore you vas borned, und I knot und reef und splice +ven you play mit topstrings und fly kites." + +"But you are unfair, Emil!" cried Chris Farrington, his sensitive face +flushed and hurt. He was a slender though strongly built young fellow of +seventeen, with Yankee ancestry writ large all over him. + +"Dere you go vonce again!" the Swedish sailor exploded. "My name is +Mister Johansen, und a kid of a boy like you call me 'Emil!' It vas +insulting, und comes pecause of der American ship!" + +"But you call me 'Chris!'" the boy expostulated, reproachfully. + +"But you vas a boy." + +"Who does a man's work," Chris retorted. "And because I do a man's work +I have as much right to call you by your first name as you me. We are +all equals in this fo'castle, and you know it. When we signed for the +voyage in San Francisco, we signed as sailors on the _Sophie +Sutherland_ and there was no difference made with any of us. Haven't +I always done my work? Did I ever shirk? Did you or any other man ever +have to take a wheel for me? Or a lookout? Or go aloft?" + +"Chris is right," interrupted a young English sailor. "No man has had to +do a tap of his work yet. He signed as good as any of us, and he's shown +himself as good--" + +"Better!" broke in a Nova Scotia man. "Better than some of us! When +we struck the sealing-grounds he turned out to be next to the best +boat-steerer aboard. Only French Louis, who'd been at it for years, +could beat him. I'm only a boat-puller, and you're only a boat-puller, +too, Emil Johansen, for all your twenty-two years at sea. Why don't you +become a boat-steerer?" + +"Too clumsy," laughed the Englishman, "and too slow." + +"Little that counts, one way or the other," joined in Dane Jurgensen, +coming to the aid of his Scandinavian brother. "Emil is a man grown and +an able seaman; the boy is neither." + +And so the argument raged back and forth, the Swedes, Norwegians and +Danes, because of race kinship, taking the part of Johansen, and the +English, Canadians and Americans taking the part of Chris. From an +unprejudiced point of view, the right was on the side of Chris. As he +had truly said, he did a man's work, and the same work that any of them +did. But they were prejudiced, and badly so, and out of the words which +passed rose a standing quarrel which divided the forecastle into two +parties. + + * * * * * + +The _Sophie Sutherland_ was a seal-hunter, registered out of San +Francisco, and engaged in hunting the furry sea-animals along the +Japanese coast north to Bering Sea. The other vessels were two-masted +schooners, but she was a three-master and the largest in the fleet. In +fact, she was a full-rigged, three-topmast schooner, newly built. + +Although Chris Farrington knew that justice was with him, and that he +performed all his work faithfully and well, many a time, in secret +thought, he longed for some pressing emergency to arise whereby he could +demonstrate to the Scandinavian seamen that he also was an able seaman. + +But one stormy night, by an accident for which he was in nowise +accountable, in overhauling a spare anchor-chain he had all the fingers +of his left hand badly crushed. And his hopes were likewise crushed, for +it was impossible for him to continue hunting with the boats, and he was +forced to stay idly aboard until his fingers should heal. Yet, although +he little dreamed it, this very accident was to give him the +long-looked-for opportunity. + +One afternoon in the latter part of May the _Sophie Sutherland_ +rolled sluggishly in a breathless calm. The seals were abundant, the +hunting good, and the boats were all away and out of sight. And with +them was almost every man of the crew. Besides Chris, there remained +only the captain, the sailing-master and the Chinese cook. + +The captain was captain only by courtesy. He was an old man, past +eighty, and blissfully ignorant of the sea and its ways; but he was the +owner of the vessel, and hence the honorable title. Of course the +sailing-master, who was really captain, was a thorough-going seaman. The +mate, whose post was aboard, was out with the boats, having temporarily +taken Chris's place as boat-steerer. + +When good weather and good sport came together, the boats were +accustomed to range far and wide, and often did not return to the +schooner until long after dark. But for all that it was a perfect +hunting day, Chris noted a growing anxiety on the part of the +sailing-master. He paced the deck nervously, and was constantly sweeping +the horizon with his marine glasses. Not a boat was in sight. As sunset +arrived, he even sent Chris aloft to the mizzen-topmast-head, but with +no better luck. The boats could not possibly be back before midnight. + +Since noon the barometer had been falling with startling rapidity, and +all the signs were ripe for a great storm--how great, not even the +sailing-master anticipated. He and Chris set to work to prepare for +it. They put storm gaskets on the furled topsails, lowered and stowed +the foresail and spanker and took in the two inner jibs. In the one +remaining jib they put a single reef, and a single reef in the mainsail. + +Night had fallen before they finished, and with the darkness came the +storm. A low moan swept over the sea, and the wind struck the _Sophie +Sutherland_ flat. But she righted quickly, and with the sailing-master +at the wheel, sheered her bow into within five points of the wind. +Working as well as he could with his bandaged hand, and with the feeble +aid of the Chinese cook, Chris went forward and backed the jib over to +the weather side. This with the flat mainsail, left the schooner hove to. + +"God help the boats! It's no gale! It's a typhoon!" the sailing-master +shouted to Chris at eleven o'clock. "Too much canvas! Got to get two +more reefs into that mainsail, and got to do it right away!" He glanced +at the old captain, shivering in oilskins at the binnacle and holding on +for dear life. "There's only you and I, Chris--and the cook; but he's +next to worthless!" + +In order to make the reef, it was necessary to lower the mainsail, and +the removal of this after pressure was bound to make the schooner fall +off before the wind and sea because of the forward pressure of the jib. + +"Take the wheel!" the sailing-master directed. "And when I give the +word, hard up with it! And when she's square before it, steady her! And +keep her there! We'll heave to again as soon as I get the reefs in!" + +Gripping the kicking spokes, Chris watched him and the reluctant cook go +forward into the howling darkness. The _Sophie Sutherland_ was +plunging into the huge head-seas and wallowing tremendously, the tense +steel stays and taut rigging humming like harp-strings to the wind. A +buffeted cry came to his ears, and he felt the schooner's bow paying off +of its own accord. The mainsail was down! + +He ran the wheel hard-over and kept anxious track of the changing +direction of the wind on his face and of the heave of the vessel. This +was the crucial moment. In performing the evolution she would have to +pass broadside to the surge before she could get before it. The wind was +blowing directly on his right cheek, when he felt the _Sophie +Sutherland_ lean over and begin to rise toward the sky--up--up--an +infinite distance! Would she clear the crest of the gigantic wave? + +Again by the feel of it, for he could see nothing, he knew that a wall +of water was rearing and curving far above him along the whole weather +side. There was an instant's calm as the liquid wall intervened and shut +off the wind. The schooner righted, and for that instant seemed at +perfect rest. Then she rolled to meet the descending rush. + +Chris shouted to the captain to hold tight, and prepared himself for the +shock. But the man did not live who could face it. An ocean of water +smote Chris's back and his clutch on the spokes was loosened as if it +were a baby's. Stunned, powerless, like a straw on the face of a +torrent, he was swept onward he knew not whither. Missing the corner of +the cabin, he was dashed forward along the poop runway a hundred feet or +more, striking violently against the foot of the foremast. A second +wave, crushing inboard, hurled him back the way he had come, and left +him half-drowned where the poop steps should have been. + +Bruised and bleeding, dimly conscious, he felt for the rail and dragged +himself to his feet. Unless something could be done, he knew the last +moment had come. As he faced the poop, the wind drove into his mouth +with suffocating force. This brought him back to his senses with a +start. The wind was blowing from dead aft! The schooner was out of the +trough and before it! But the send of the sea was bound to breach her to +again. Crawling up the runway, he managed to get to the wheel just in +time to prevent this. The binnacle light was still burning. They were +safe! + +That is, he and the schooner were safe. As to the welfare of his three +companions he could not say. Nor did he dare leave the wheel in order to +find out, for it took every second of his undivided attention to keep +the vessel to her course. The least fraction of carelessness and the +heave of the sea under the quarter was liable to thrust her into the +trough. So, a boy of one hundred and forty pounds, he clung to his +herculean task of guiding the two hundred straining tons of fabric amid +the chaos of the great storm forces. + +Half an hour later, groaning and sobbing, the captain crawled to Chris's +feet. All was lost, he whimpered. He was smitten unto death. The galley +had gone by the board, the mainsail and running-gear, the cook, +everything! + +"Where's the sailing-master?" Chris demanded when he had caught his +breath after steadying a wild lurch of the schooner. It was no child's +play to steer a vessel under single-reefed jib before a typhoon. + +"Clean up for'ard," the old man replied. "Jammed under the +fo'c'sle-head, but still breathing. Both his arms are broken, he says, +and he doesn't know how many ribs. He's hurt bad." + +"Well, he'll drown there the way she's shipping water through the +hawse-pipes. Go for'ard!" Chris commanded, taking charge of things as a +matter of course. "Tell him not to worry; that I'm at the wheel. Help +him as much as you can, and make him help"--he stopped and ran the +spokes to starboard as a tremendous billow rose under the stern and +yawed the schooner to port--"and make him help himself for the rest. +Unship the fo'castle hatch and get him down into a bunk. Then ship the +hatch again." + +The captain turned his aged face forward and wavered pitifully. The +waist of the ship was full of water to the bulwarks. He had just come +through it, and knew death lurked every inch of the way. + +"Go!" Chris shouted, fiercely. And as the fear-stricken man started, +"And take another look for the cook!" + +Two hours later, almost dead from suffering, the captain returned. He +had obeyed orders. The sailing-master was helpless, although safe in a +bunk; the cook was gone. Chris sent the captain below to the cabin to +change his clothes. + +After interminable hours of toil, day broke cold and gray. Chris looked +about him. The _Sophie Sutherland_ was racing before the typhoon +like a thing possessed. There was no rain, but the wind whipped the +spray of the sea mast-high, obscuring everything except in the immediate +neighborhood. + +Two waves only could Chris see at a time--the one before and the one +behind. So small and insignificant the schooner seemed on the long +Pacific roll! Rushing up a maddening mountain, she would poise like a +cockle-shell on the giddy summit, breathless and rolling, leap outward +and down into the yawning chasm beneath, and bury herself in the smother +of foam at the bottom. Then the recovery, another mountain, another +sickening upward rush, another poise, and the downward crash. Abreast of +him, to starboard, like a ghost of the storm, Chris saw the cook dashing +apace with the schooner. Evidently, when washed overboard, he had +grasped and become entangled in a trailing halyard. + +For three hours more, alone with this gruesome companion, Chris held the +_Sophie Sutherland_ before the wind and sea. He had long since +forgotten his mangled fingers. The bandages had been torn away, and the +cold, salt spray had eaten into the half-healed wounds until they were +numb and no longer pained. But he was not cold. The terrific labor of +steering forced the perspiration from every pore. Yet he was faint and +weak with hunger and exhaustion, and hailed with delight the advent on +deck of the captain, who fed him all of a pound of cake-chocolate. It +strengthened him at once. + +He ordered the captain to cut the halyard by which the cook's body was +towing, and also to go forward and cut loose the jib-halyard and sheet. +When he had done so, the jib fluttered a couple of moments like a +handkerchief, then tore out of the bolt-ropes and vanished. The +_Sophie Sutherland_ was running under bare poles. + +By noon the storm had spent itself, and by six in the evening the waves +had died down sufficiently to let Chris leave the helm. It was almost +hopeless to dream of the small boats weathering the typhoon, but there +is always the chance in saving human life, and Chris at once applied +himself to going back over the course along which he had fled. He +managed to get a reef in one of the inner jibs and two reefs in the +spanker, and then, with the aid of the watch-tackle, to hoist them to +the stiff breeze that yet blew. And all through the night, tacking back +and forth on the back track, he shook out canvas as fast as the wind +would permit. + +The injured sailing-master had turned delirious and between tending him +and lending a hand with the ship, Chris kept the captain busy. "Taught +me more seamanship," as he afterward said, "than I'd learned on the +whole voyage." But by daybreak the old man's feeble frame succumbed, and +he fell off into exhausted sleep on the weather poop. + +Chris, who could now lash the wheel, covered the tired man with blankets +from below, and went fishing in the lazaretto for something to eat. +But by the day following he found himself forced to give in, drowsing +fitfully by the wheel and waking ever and anon to take a look at things. + +On the afternoon of the third day he picked up a schooner, dismasted and +battered. As he approached, close-hauled on the wind, he saw her decks +crowded by an unusually large crew, and on sailing in closer, made out +among others the faces of his missing comrades. And he was just in the +nick of time, for they were fighting a losing fight at the pumps. An +hour later they, with the crew of the sinking craft, were aboard the +_Sophie Sutherland_. + +Having wandered so far from their own vessel, they had taken refuge on +the strange schooner just before the storm broke. She was a Canadian +sealer on her first voyage, and as was now apparent, her last. + +The captain of the _Sophie Sutherland_ had a story to tell, also, +and he told it well--so well, in fact, that when all hands were gathered +together on deck during the dog-watch, Emil Johansen strode over to +Chris and gripped him by the hand. + +"Chris," he said, so loudly that all could hear, "Chris, I gif in. You +vas yoost so good a sailorman as I. You vas a bully boy, und able +seaman, und I pe proud for you! + +"Und Chris!" He turned as if he had forgotten something, and called +back, "From dis time always you call me 'Emil' mitout der 'Mister!'" + + + + +TO REPEL BOARDERS + + +"No; honest, now, Bob, I'm sure I was born too late. The twentieth +century's no place for me. If I'd had my way----" + +"You'd have been born in the sixteenth," I broke in, laughing, "with +Drake and Hawkins and Raleigh and the rest of the sea-kings." + +"You're right!" Paul affirmed. He rolled over upon his back on the +little after-deck, with a long sigh of dissatisfaction. + +It was a little past midnight, and, with the wind nearly astern, we were +running down Lower San Francisco Bay to Bay Farm Island. Paul Fairfax +and I went to the same school, lived next door to each other, and +"chummed it" together. By saving money, by earning more, and by +each of us foregoing a bicycle on his birthday, we had collected +the purchase-price of the _Mist_, a beamy twenty-eight-footer, +sloop-rigged, with baby topsail and centerboard. Paul's father was a +yachtsman himself, and he had conducted the business for us, poking +around, overhauling, sticking his penknife into the timbers, and testing +the planks with the greatest care. In fact, it was on his schooner, +the _Whim_, that Paul and I had picked up what we knew about +boat-sailing, and now that the _Mist_ was ours, we were hard at +work adding to our knowledge. + +The _Mist_, being broad of beam, was comfortable and roomy. +A man could stand upright in the cabin, and what with the stove, +cooking-utensils, and bunks, we were good for trips in her of a week at +a time. And we were just starting out on the first of such trips, and it +was because it was the first trip that we were sailing by night. Early +in the evening we had beaten out from Oakland, and we were now off the +mouth of Alameda Creek, a large salt-water estuary which fills and +empties San Leandro Bay. + +"Men lived in those days," Paul said, so suddenly as to startle me from +my own thoughts. "In the days of the sea-kings, I mean," he explained. + +I said "Oh!" sympathetically, and began to whistle "Captain Kidd." + +"Now, I've my ideas about things," Paul went on. "They talk about +romance and adventure and all that, but I say romance and adventure are +dead. We're too civilized. We don't have adventures in the twentieth +century. We go to the circus----" + +"But----" I strove to interrupt, though he would not listen to me. + +"You look here, Bob," he said. "In all the time you and I've gone +together what adventures have we had? True, we were out in the hills +once, and didn't get back till late at night, and we were good and +hungry, but we weren't even lost. We knew where we were all the time. It +was only a case of walk. What I mean is, we've never had to fight for +our lives. Understand? We've never had a pistol fired at us, or a +cannon, or a sword waving over our heads, or--or anything.... + +"You'd better slack away three or four feet of that main-sheet," he said +in a hopeless sort of way, as though it did not matter much anyway. "The +wind's still veering around. + +"Why, in the old times the sea was one constant glorious adventure," +he continued. "A boy left school and became a midshipman, and in a few +weeks was cruising after Spanish galleons or locking yard-arms with a +French privateer, or--doing lots of things." + +"Well--there _are_ adventures today," I objected. + +But Paul went on as though I had not spoken: + +"And today we go from school to high school, and from high school to +college, and then we go into the office or become doctors and things, +and the only adventures we know about are the ones we read in books. +Why, just as sure as I'm sitting here on the stern of the sloop +_Mist_, just so sure am I that we wouldn't know what to do if a +real adventure came along. Now, would we?" + +"Oh, I don't know," I answered non-committally. + +"Well, you wouldn't be a coward, would you?" he demanded. + +I was sure I wouldn't and said so. + +"But you don't have to be a coward to lose your head, do you?" + +I agreed that brave men might get excited. + +"Well, then," Paul summed up, with a note of regret in his voice, "the +chances are that we'd spoil the adventure. So it's a shame, and that's +all I can say about it." + +"The adventure hasn't come yet," I answered, not caring to see him down +in the mouth over nothing. You see, Paul was a peculiar fellow in some +things, and I knew him pretty well. He read a good deal, and had a quick +imagination, and once in a while he'd get into moods like this one. So I +said, "The adventure hasn't come yet, so there's no use worrying about +its being spoiled. For all we know, it might turn out splendidly." + +Paul didn't say anything for some time, and I was thinking he was out of +the mood, when he spoke up suddenly: + +"Just imagine, Bob Kellogg, as we're sailing along now, just as we are, +and never mind what for, that a boat should bear down upon us with armed +men in it, what would you do to repel boarders? Think you could rise to +it?" + +"What would _you_ do?" I asked pointedly. "Remember, we haven't +even a single shotgun aboard." + +"You would surrender, then?" he demanded angrily. "But suppose they were +going to kill you?" + +"I'm not saying what I'd do," I answered stiffly, beginning to get a +little angry myself. "I'm asking what you'd do, without weapons of any +sort?" + +"I'd find something," he replied--rather shortly, I thought. + +I began to chuckle. "Then the adventure wouldn't be spoiled, would it? +And you've been talking rubbish." + +Paul struck a match, looked at his watch, and remarked that it was +nearly one o'clock--a way he had when the argument went against him. +Besides, this was the nearest we ever came to quarreling now, though +our share of squabbles had fallen to us in the earlier days of our +friendship. I had just seen a little white light ahead when Paul +spoke again. + +"Anchor-light," he said. "Funny place for people to drop the hook. It +may be a scow-schooner with a dinky astern, so you'd better go wide." + +I eased the _Mist_ several points, and, the wind puffing up, we +went plowing along at a pretty fair speed, passing the light so wide +that we could not make out what manner of craft it marked. Suddenly the +_Mist_ slacked up in a slow and easy way, as though running upon +soft mud. We were both startled. The wind was blowing stronger than +ever, and yet we were almost at a standstill. + +"Mud-flat out here? Never heard of such a thing!" + +So Paul exclaimed with a snort of unbelief, and, seizing an oar, shoved +it down over the side. And straight down it went till the water wet +his hand. There was no bottom! Then we were dumbfounded. The wind was +whistling by, and still the _Mist_ was moving ahead at a snail's +pace. There seemed something dead about her, and it was all I could do +at the tiller to keep her from swinging up into the wind. + +"Listen!" I laid my hand on Paul's arm. We could hear the sound of +rowlocks, and saw the little white light bobbing up and down and now +very close to us. "There's your armed boat," I whispered in fun. +"Beat the crew to quarters and stand by to repel boarders!" + +We both laughed, and were still laughing when a wild scream of rage came +out of the darkness, and the approaching boat shot under our stern. +By the light of the lantern it carried we could see the two men in it +distinctly. They were foreign-looking fellows with sun-bronzed faces, +and with knitted tam-o'-shanters perched seaman fashion on their heads. +Bright-colored woolen sashes were around their waists, and long +sea-boots covered their legs. I remember yet the cold chill which passed +along my backbone as I noted the tiny gold ear-rings in the ears of one. +For all the world they were like pirates stepped out of the pages of +romance. And, to make the picture complete, their faces were distorted +with anger, and each flourished a long knife. They were both shouting, +in high-pitched voices, some foreign jargon we could not understand. + +One of them, the smaller of the two, and if anything the more +vicious-looking, put his hands on the rail of the _Mist_ and +started to come aboard. Quick as a flash Paul placed the end of the oar +against the man's chest and shoved him back into his boat. He fell in a +heap, but scrambled to his feet, waving the knife and shrieking: + +"You break-a my net-a! You break-a my net-a!" + +And he held forth in the jargon again, his companion joining him, and +both preparing to make another dash to come aboard the _Mist_. + +"They're Italian fishermen," I cried, the facts of the case breaking in +upon me. "We've run over their smelt-net, and it's slipped along the +keel and fouled our rudder. We're anchored to it." + +"Yes, and they're murderous chaps, too," Paul said, sparring at them +with the oar to make them keep their distance. + +"Say, you fellows!" he called to them. "Give us a chance and we'll get +it clear for you! We didn't know your net was there. We didn't mean to +do it, you know!" + +"You won't lose anything!" I added. "We'll pay the damages!" + +But they could not understand what we were saying, or did not care to +understand. + +"You break-a my net-a! You break-a my net-a!" the smaller man, the one +with the earrings, screamed back, making furious gestures. "I fix-a you! +You-a see, I fix-a you!" + +This time, when Paul thrust him back, he seized the oar in his hands, +and his companion jumped aboard. I put my back against the tiller, and +no sooner had he landed, and before he had caught his balance, than I +met him with another oar, and he fell heavily backward into the boat. It +was getting serious, and when he arose and caught my oar, and I realized +his strength, I confess that I felt a goodly tinge of fear. But though +he was stronger than I, instead of dragging me overboard when he +wrenched on the oar, he merely pulled his boat in closer; and when +I shoved, the boat was forced away. Besides, the knife, still in his +right hand, made him awkward and somewhat counterbalanced the advantage +his superior strength gave him. Paul and his enemy were in the same +situation--a sort of deadlock, which continued for several seconds, but +which could not last. Several times I shouted that we would pay for +whatever damage their net had suffered, but my words seemed to be +without effect. + +Then my man began to tuck the oar under his arm, and to come up along +it, slowly, hand over hand. The small man did the same with Paul. Moment +by moment they came closer, and closer, and we knew that the end was +only a question of time. + +"Hard up, Bob!" Paul called softly to me. + +I gave him a quick glance, and caught an instant's glimpse of what I +took to be a very pale face and a very set jaw. + +"Oh, Bob," he pleaded, "hard up your helm! Hard up your helm, Bob!" + +And his meaning dawned upon me. Still holding to my end of the oar, I +shoved the tiller over with my back, and even bent my body to keep it +over. As it was the _Mist_ was nearly dead before the wind, and +this maneuver was bound to force her to jibe her mainsail from one side +to the other. I could tell by the "feel" when the wind spilled out of +the canvas and the boom tilted up. Paul's man had now gained a footing +on the little deck, and my man was just scrambling up. + +"Look out!" I shouted to Paul. "Here she comes!" + +Both he and I let go the oars and tumbled into the cockpit. The next +instant the big boom and the heavy blocks swept over our heads, the +main-sheet whipping past like a great coiling snake and the _Mist_ +heeling over with a violent jar. Both men had jumped for it, but in some +way the little man either got his knife-hand jammed or fell upon it, for +the first sight we caught of him, he was standing in his boat, his +bleeding fingers clasped close between his knees and his face all +twisted with pain and helpless rage. + +"Now's our chance!" Paul whispered. "Over with you!" + +And on either side of the rudder we lowered ourselves into the water, +pressing the net down with our feet, till, with a jerk, it went clear, +Then it was up and in, Paul at the main-sheet and I at the tiller, the +_Mist_ plunging ahead with freedom in her motion, and the little +white light astern growing small and smaller. + +"Now that you've had your adventure, do you feel any better?" I remember +asking when we had changed our clothes and were sitting dry and +comfortable again in the cockpit. + +"Well, if I don't have the nightmare for a week to come"--Paul paused +and puckered his brows in judicial fashion--"it will be because I can't +sleep, that's one thing sure!" + + + + +AN ADVENTURE IN THE UPPER SEA + + +I am a retired captain of the upper sea. That is to say, when I was a +younger man (which is not so long ago) I was an aeronaut and navigated +that aerial ocean which is all around about us and above us. Naturally +it is a hazardous profession, and naturally I have had many thrilling +experiences, the most thrilling, or at least the most nerve-racking, +being the one I am about to relate. + +It happened before I went in for hydrogen gas balloons, all of varnished +silk, doubled and lined, and all that, and fit for voyages of days +instead of mere hours. The "Little Nassau" (named after the "Great +Nassau" of many years back) was the balloon I was making ascents in at +the time. It was a fair-sized, hot-air affair, of single thickness, good +for an hour's flight or so and capable of attaining an altitude of a +mile or more. It answered my purpose, for my act at the time was making +half-mile parachute jumps at recreation parks and country fairs. I was +in Oakland, a California town, filling a summer's engagement with a +street railway company. The company owned a large park outside the city, +and of course it was to its interest to provide attractions which would +send the townspeople over its line when they went out to get a whiff of +country air. My contract called for two ascensions weekly, and my act +was an especially taking feature, for it was on my days that the largest +crowds were drawn. + +Before you can understand what happened, I must first explain a bit +about the nature of the hot air balloon which is used for parachute +jumping. If you have ever witnessed such a jump, you will remember that +directly the parachute was cut loose the balloon turned upside down, +emptied itself of its smoke and heated air, flattened out and fell +straight down, beating the parachute to the ground. Thus there is no +chasing a big deserted bag for miles and miles across the country, and +much time, as well as trouble, is thereby saved. This maneuver is +accomplished by attaching a weight, at the end of a long rope, to the +top of the balloon. The aeronaut, with his parachute and trapeze, hangs +to the bottom of the balloon, and, weighing more, keeps it right side +down. But when he lets go, the weight attached to the top immediately +drags the top down, and the bottom, which is the open mouth, goes up, +the heated air pouring out. The weight used for this purpose on the +"Little Nassau" was a bag of sand. + +On the particular day I have in mind there was an unusually large crowd +in attendance, and the police had their hands full keeping the people +back. There was much pushing and shoving, and the ropes were bulging +with the pressure of men, women and children. As I came down from the +dressing room I noticed two girls outside the ropes, of about fourteen +and sixteen, and inside the rope a youngster of eight or nine. They +were holding him by the hands, and he was struggling, excitedly and +half in laughter, to get away from them. I thought nothing of it at +the time--just a bit of childish play, no more; and it was only in the +light of after events that the scene was impressed vividly upon me. + +"Keep them cleared out, George!" I called to my assistant. "We don't +want any accidents." + +"Ay," he answered, "that I will, Charley." + +George Guppy had helped me in no end of ascents, and because of his +coolness, judgment and absolute reliability I had come to trust my life +in his hands with the utmost confidence. His business it was to overlook +the inflating of the balloon, and to see that everything about the +parachute was in perfect working order. + +The "Little Nassau" was already filled and straining at the guys. The +parachute lay flat along the ground and beyond it the trapeze. I tossed +aside my overcoat, took my position, and gave the signal to let go. As +you know, the first rush upward from the earth is very sudden, and this +time the balloon, when it first caught the wind, heeled violently over +and was longer than usual in righting. I looked down at the old familiar +sight of the world rushing away from me. And there were the thousands of +people, every face silently upturned. And the silence startled me, for, +as crowds went, this was the time for them to catch their first breath +and send up a roar of applause. But there was no hand-clapping, +whistling, cheering--only silence. And instead, clear as a bell and +distinct, without the slightest shake or quaver, came George's voice +through the megaphone: + +"Ride her down, Charley! Ride the balloon down!" + +What had happened? I waved my hand to show that I had heard, and began +to think. Had something gone wrong with the parachute? Why should I ride +the balloon down instead of making the jump which thousands were waiting +to see? What was the matter? And as I puzzled, I received another start. +The earth was a thousand feet beneath, and yet I heard a child crying +softly, and seemingly very close to hand. And though the "Little Nassau" +was shooting skyward like a rocket, the crying did not grow fainter and +fainter and die away. I confess I was almost on the edge of a funk, +when, unconsciously following up the noise with my eyes, I looked above +me and saw a boy astride the sandbag which was to bring the "Little +Nassau" to earth. And it was the same little boy I had seen struggling +with the two girls--his sisters, as I afterward learned. + +There he was, astride the sandbag and holding on to the rope for +dear life. A puff of wind heeled the balloon slightly, and he swung out +into space for ten or a dozen feet, and back again, fetching up against +the tight canvas with a thud which even shook me, thirty feet or more +beneath. I thought to see him dashed loose, but he clung on and +whimpered. They told me afterward, how, at the moment they were casting +off the balloon, the little fellow had torn away from his sisters, +ducked under the rope, and deliberately jumped astride the sandbag. It +has always been a wonder to me that he was not jerked off in the first +rush. + +Well, I felt sick all over as I looked at him there, and I understood +why the balloon had taken longer to right itself, and why George had +called after me to ride her down. Should I cut loose with the parachute, +the bag would at once turn upside down, empty itself, and begin its +swift descent. The only hope lay in my riding her down and in the boy +holding on. There was no possible way for me to reach him. No man could +climb the slim, closed parachute; and even if a man could, and made the +mouth of the balloon, what could he do? Straight out, and fifteen feet +away, trailed the boy on his ticklish perch, and those fifteen feet were +empty space. + +I thought far more quickly than it takes to tell all this, and realized +on the instant that the boy's attention must be called away from his +terrible danger. Exercising all the self-control I possessed, and +striving to make myself very calm, I said cheerily: + +"Hello, up there, who are you!" + +He looked down at me, choking back his tears and brightening up, but +just then the balloon ran into a cross-current, turned half around and +lay over. This set him swinging back and forth, and he fetched the +canvas another bump. Then he began to cry again. + +"Isn't it great?" I asked heartily, as though it was the most enjoyable +thing in the world; and, without waiting for him to answer: "What's your +name?" + +"Tommy Dermott," he answered. + +"Glad to make your acquaintance, Tommy Dermott," I went on. "But I'd +like to know who said you could ride up with me?" + +He laughed and said he just thought he'd ride up for the fun of it. And +so we went on, I sick with fear for him, and cudgeling my brains to keep +up the conversation. I knew that it was all I could do, and that his +life depended upon my ability to keep his mind off his danger. I pointed +out to him the great panorama spreading away to the horizon and four +thousand feet beneath us. There lay San Francisco Bay like a great +placid lake, the haze of smoke over the city, the Golden Gate, the ocean +fog-rim beyond, and Mount Tamalpais over all, clear-cut and sharp +against the sky. Directly below us I could see a buggy, apparently +crawling, but I knew from experience that the men in it were lashing the +horses on our trail. + +But he grew tired of looking around, and I could see he was beginning to +get frightened. + +"How would you like to go in for the business?" I asked. + +He cheered up at once and asked "Do you get good pay?" + +But the "Little Nassau," beginning to cool, had started on its long +descent, and ran into counter currents which bobbed it roughly about. +This swung the boy around pretty lively, smashing him into the bag once +quite severely. His lip began to tremble at this, and he was crying +again. I tried to joke and laugh, but it was no use. His pluck was +oozing out, and at any moment I was prepared to see him go shooting +past me. + +I was in despair. Then, suddenly, I remembered how one fright could +destroy another fright, and I frowned up at him and shouted sternly: + +"You just hold on to that rope! If you don't I'll thrash you within an +inch of your life when I get you down on the ground! Understand?" + +"Ye-ye-yes, sir," he whimpered, and I saw that the thing had worked. I +was nearer to him than the earth, and he was more afraid of me than of +falling. + +"'Why, you've got a snap up there on that soft bag," I rattled on. + +"Yes," I assured him, "this bar down here is hard and narrow, and it +hurts to sit on it." + +Then a thought struck him, and he forgot all about his aching fingers. + +"When are you going to jump?" he asked. "That's what I came up to see." + +I was sorry to disappoint him, but I wasn't going to make any jump. + +But he objected to that. "It said so in the papers," he said. + +"I don't care," I answered. "I'm feeling sort of lazy today, and I'm +just going to ride down the balloon. It's my balloon and I guess I can +do as I please about it. And, anyway, we're almost down now." + +And we were, too, and sinking fast. And right there and then that +youngster began to argue with me as to whether it was right for me to +disappoint the people, and to urge their claims upon me. And it was +with a happy heart that I held up my end of it, justifying myself in a +thousand different ways, till we shot over a grove of eucalyptus trees +and dipped to meet the earth. + +"Hold on tight!" I shouted, swinging down from the trapeze by my hands +in order to make a landing on my feet. + +We skimmed past a barn, missed a mesh of clothesline, frightened +the barnyard chickens into a panic, and rose up again clear over a +haystack--all this almost quicker than it takes to tell. Then we came +down in an orchard, and when my feet had touched the ground I fetched up +the balloon by a couple of turns of the trapeze around an apple tree. + +I have had my balloon catch fire in mid air, I have hung on the cornice +of a ten-story house, I have dropped like a bullet for six hundred feet +when a parachute was slow in opening; but never have I felt so weak and +faint and sick as when I staggered toward the unscratched boy and +gripped him by the arm. + +"Tommy Dermott," I said, when I had got my nerves back somewhat. "Tommy +Dermott, I'm going to lay you across my knee and give you the greatest +thrashing a boy ever got in the world's history." + +"No, you don't," he answered, squirming around. "You said you wouldn't +if I held on tight." + +"That's all right," I said, "but I'm going to, just the same. The +fellows who go up in balloons are bad, unprincipled men, and I'm going +to give you a lesson right now to make you stay away from them, and from +balloons, too." + +And then I gave it to him, and if it wasn't the greatest thrashing in +the world, it was the greatest he ever got. + +But it took all the grit out of me, left me nerve-broken, that +experience. I canceled the engagement with the street railway company, +and later on went in for gas. Gas is much the safer, anyway. + + + + +BALD-FACE + + +"Talkin' of bear----" + +The Klondike King paused meditatively, and the group on the hotel porch +hitched their chairs up closer. + +"Talkin' of bear," he went on, "now up in the Northern Country there are +various kinds. On the Little Pelly, for instance, they come down that +thick in the summer to feed on the salmon that you can't get an Indian +or white man to go nigher than a day's journey to the place. And up +in the Rampart Mountains there's a curious kind of bear called the +'side-hill grizzly.' That's because he's traveled on the side-hills ever +since the Flood, and the two legs on the down-hill side are twice as +long as the two on the up-hill. And he can out-run a jack rabbit when he +gets steam up. Dangerous? Catch you! Bless you, no. All a man has to do +is to circle down the hill and run the other way. You see, that throws +mister bear's long legs up the hill and the short ones down. Yes, he's a +mighty peculiar creature, but that wasn't what I started in to tell +about. + +"They've got another kind of bear up on the Yukon, and his legs are all +right, too. He's called the bald-face grizzly, and he's jest as big as +he is bad. It's only the fool white men that think of hunting him. +Indians got too much sense. But there's one thing about the bald-face +that a man has to learn: he never gives the trail to mortal creature. +If you see him comin', and you value your skin, you get out of his path. +If you don't, there's bound to be trouble. If the bald-face met Jehovah +Himself on the trail, he'd not give him an inch. O, he's a selfish +beggar, take my word for it. But I had to learn all this. Didn't know +anything about bear when I went into the country, exceptin' when I was a +youngster I'd seen a heap of cinnamons and that little black kind. And +they was nothin' to be scared at. + +"Well, after we'd got settled down on our claim, I went up on the hill +lookin' for a likely piece of birch to make an ax-handle out of. But +it was pretty hard to find the right kind, and I kept a-goin' and kept +a-goin' for nigh on two hours. Wasn't in no hurry to make my choice, you +see, for I was headin' down to the Forks, where I was goin' to borrow a +log-bit from Old Joe Gee. When I started, I'd put a couple of sour-dough +biscuits and some sowbelly in my pocket in case I might get hungry. +And I'm tellin' you that lunch came in right handy before I was done +with it. + +"Bime-by I hit upon the likeliest little birch saplin', right in the +middle of a clump of jack pine. Jest as I raised my hand-ax I happened +to cast my eyes down the hill. There was a big bear comin' up, swingin' +along on all fours, right in my direction. It was a bald-face, but +little I knew then about such kind. + +"'Jest watch me scare him,' I says to myself, and I stayed out of sight +in the trees. + +"Well, I waited till he was about a hundred feet off, then out I runs +into the open. + +"'Oof! oof!' I hollered at him, expectin' to see him turn tail like +chain lightning. + +"Turn tail? He jest throwed up his head for one good look and came a +comin'. + +"'Oof! oof!' I hollered, louder'n ever. But he jest came a comin'. + +"'Consarn you!' I says to myself, gettin' mad. 'I'll make you jump the +trail.' + +"So I grabs my hat, and wavin' and hollerin' starts down the trail to +meet him. A big sugar pine had gone down in a windfall and lay about +breast high. I stops jest behind it, old bald-face comin' all the time. +It was jest then that fear came to me. I yelled like a Comanche Indian +as he raised up to come over the log, and fired my hat full in his face. +Then I lit out. + +"Say! I rounded the end of that log and put down the hill at a +two-twenty clip, old bald-face reachin' for me at every jump. At the +bottom was a broad, open flat, quarter of a mile to timber and full of +niggerheads. I knew if ever I slipped I was a goner, but I hit only the +high places till you couldn't a-seen my trail for smoke. And the old +devil snortin' along hot after me. Midway across, he reached for me, +jest strikin' the heel of my moccasin with his claw. Tell you I was +doin' some tall thinkin' jest then. I knew he had the wind of me and I +could never make the brush, so I pulled my little lunch out of my pocket +and dropped it on the fly. + +"Never looked back till I hit the timber, and then he was mouthing the +biscuits in a way which wasn't nice to see, considerin' how close he'd +been to me. I never slacked up. No, sir! Jest kept hittin' the trail for +all there was in me. But jest as I came around a bend, heelin' it right +lively I tell you, what'd I see in middle of the trail before me, and +comin' my way, but another bald-face! + +"'Whoof!' he says when he spotted me, and he came a-runnin.' + +"Instanter I was about and hittin' the back trail twice as fast as I'd +come. The way this one was puffin' after me, I'd clean forgot all about +the other bald-face. First thing I knew I seen him mosying along kind of +easy, wonderin' most likely what had become of me, and if I tasted as +good as my lunch. Say! when he seen me he looked real pleased. And then +he came a-jumpin' for me. + +"'Whoof!' he says. + +"'Whoof!' says the one behind me. + +"Bang I goes, slap off the trail sideways, a-plungin' and a-clawin' +through the brush like a wild man. By this time I was clean crazed; +thought the whole country was full of bald-faces. Next thing I +knows--whop, I comes up against something in a tangle of wild blackberry +bushes. Then that something hits me a slap and closes in on me. Another +bald-face! And then and there I knew I was gone for sure. But I made up +to die game, and of all the rampin' and roarin' and rippin' and tearin' +you ever see, that was the worst. + +"'My God! O my wife!' it says. And I looked and it was a man I was +hammering into kingdom come. + +"'Thought you was a bear,' says I. + +"He kind of caught his breath and looked at me. Then he says, 'Same +here.' + +"Seemed as though he'd been chased by a bald-face, too, and had hid in +the blackberries. So that's how we mistook each other. + +"But by that time the racket on the trail was something terrible, and we +didn't wait to explain matters. That afternoon we got Joe Gee and some +rifles and came back loaded for bear. Mebbe you won't believe me, but +when we got to the spot, there was the two bald-faces lyin' dead. You +see, when I jumped out, they came together, and each refused to give +trail to the other. So they fought it out. Talkin' of bear. As I was +sayin'----" + + + + +IN YEDDO BAY + + +Somewhere along Theater Street he had lost it. He remembered being +hustled somewhat roughly on the bridge over one of the canals that +cross that busy thoroughfare. Possibly some slant-eyed, light-fingered +pickpocket was even then enjoying the fifty-odd yen his purse had +contained. And then again, he thought, he might have lost it himself, +just lost it carelessly. + +Hopelessly, and for the twentieth time, he searched in all his pockets +for the missing purse. It was not there. His hand lingered in his +empty hip-pocket, and he woefully regarded the voluble and vociferous +restaurant-keeper, who insanely clamored: "Twenty-five sen! You pay now! +Twenty-five sen!" + +"But my purse!" the boy said. "I tell you I've lost it somewhere." + +Whereupon the restaurant-keeper lifted his arms indignantly and +shrieked: "Twenty-five sen! Twenty-five sen! You pay now!" + +Quite a crowd had collected, and it was growing embarrassing for Alf +Davis. + +It was so ridiculous and petty, Alf thought. Such a disturbance about +nothing! And, decidedly, he must be doing something. Thoughts of diving +wildly through that forest of legs, and of striking out at whomsoever +opposed him, flashed through his mind; but, as though divining his +purpose, one of the waiters, a short and chunky chap with an +evil-looking cast in one eye, seized him by the arm. + +"You pay now! You pay now! Twenty-five sen!" yelled the proprietor, +hoarse with rage. + +Alf was red in the face, too, from mortification; but he resolutely set +out on another exploration. He had given up the purse, pinning his last +hope on stray coins. In the little change-pocket of his coat he found +a ten-sen piece and five-copper sen; and remembering having recently +missed a ten-sen piece, he cut the seam of the pocket and resurrected +the coin from the depths of the lining. Twenty-five sen he held in his +hand, the sum required to pay for the supper he had eaten. He turned +them over to the proprietor, who counted them, grew suddenly calm, and +bowed obsequiously--in fact, the whole crowd bowed obsequiously and +melted away. + +Alf Davis was a young sailor, just turned sixteen, on board the _Annie +Mine_, an American sailing-schooner, which had run into Yokohama to +ship its season's catch of skins to London. And in this, his second trip +ashore, he was beginning to snatch his first puzzling glimpses of the +Oriental mind. He laughed when the bowing and kotowing was over, and +turned on his heel to confront another problem. How was he to get aboard +ship? It was eleven o'clock at night, and there would be no ship's boats +ashore, while the outlook for hiring a native boatman, with nothing but +empty pockets to draw upon, was not particularly inviting. + +Keeping a sharp lookout for shipmates, he went down to the pier. At +Yokohama there are no long lines of wharves. The shipping lies out at +anchor, enabling a few hundred of the short-legged people to make a +livelihood by carrying passengers to and from the shore. + +A dozen sampan men and boys hailed Alf and offered their services. He +selected the most favorable-looking one, an old and beneficent-appearing +man with a withered leg. Alf stepped into his sampan and sat down. +It was quite dark and he could not see what the old fellow was doing, +though he evidently was doing nothing about shoving off and getting +under way. At last he limped over and peered into Alf's face. + +"Ten sen," he said. + +"Yes, I know, ten sen," Alf answered carelessly. "But hurry up. American +schooner." + +"Ten sen. You pay now," the old fellow insisted. + +Alf felt himself grow hot all over at the hateful words "pay now." "You +take me to American schooner; then I pay," he said. + +But the man stood up patiently before him, held out his hand, and said, +"Ten sen. You pay now." + +Alf tried to explain. He had no money. He had lost his purse. But he +would pay. As soon as he got aboard the American schooner, then he would +pay. No; he would not even go aboard the American schooner. He would +call to his shipmates, and they would give the sampan man the ten sen +first. After that he would go aboard. So it was all right, of course. + +To all of which the beneficent-appearing old man replied: "You pay now. +Ten sen." And, to make matters worse, the other sampan men squatted on +the pier steps, listening. + +Alf, chagrined and angry, stood up to step ashore. But the old fellow +laid a detaining hand on his sleeve. "You give shirt now. I take you +'Merican schooner," he proposed. + +Then it was that all of Alf's American independence flamed up in his +breast. The Anglo-Saxon has a born dislike of being imposed upon, and +to Alf this was sheer robbery! Ten sen was equivalent to six American +cents, while his shirt, which was of good quality and was new, had cost +him two dollars. + +He turned his back on the man without a word, and went out to the end of +the pier, the crowd, laughing with great gusto, following at his heels. +The majority of them were heavy-set, muscular fellows, and the July +night being one of sweltering heat, they were clad in the least possible +raiment. The water-people of any race are rough and turbulent, and it +struck Alf that to be out at midnight on a pier-end with such a crowd of +wharfmen, in a big Japanese city, was not as safe as it might be. + +One burly fellow, with a shock of black hair and ferocious eyes, came +up. The rest shoved in after him to take part in the discussion. + +"Give me shoes," the man said. "Give me shoes now. I take you 'Merican +schooner." + +Alf shook his head, whereat the crowd clamored that he accept the +proposal. Now the Anglo-Saxon is so constituted that to browbeat or +bully him is the last way under the sun of getting him to do any certain +thing. He will dare willingly, but he will not permit himself to be +driven. So this attempt of the boatmen to force Alf only aroused all the +dogged stubbornness of his race. The same qualities were in him that are +in men who lead forlorn hopes; and there, under the stars, on the lonely +pier, encircled by the jostling and shouldering gang, he resolved that +he would die rather than submit to the indignity of being robbed of a +single stitch of clothing. Not value, but principle, was at stake. + +Then somebody thrust roughly against him from behind. He whirled about +with flashing eyes, and the circle involuntarily gave ground. But the +crowd was growing more boisterous. Each and every article of clothing he +had on was demanded by one or another, and these demands were shouted +simultaneously at the tops of very healthy lungs. + +Alf had long since ceased to say anything, but he knew that the +situation was getting dangerous, and that the only thing left to him +was to get away. His face was set doggedly, his eyes glinted like points +of steel, and his body was firmly and confidently poised. This air of +determination sufficiently impressed the boatmen to make them give way +before him when he started to walk toward the shore-end of the pier. But +they trooped along beside him and behind him, shouting and laughing more +noisily than ever. One of the youngsters, about Alf's size and build, +impudently snatched his cap from his head; but before he could put it on +his own head, Alf struck out from the shoulder, and sent the fellow +rolling on the stones. + +The cap flew out of his hand and disappeared among the many legs. Alf +did some quick thinking; his sailor pride would not permit him to leave +the cap in their hands. He followed in the direction it had sped, and +soon found it under the bare foot of a stalwart fellow, who kept his +weight stolidly upon it. Alf tried to get the cap out by a sudden jerk, +but failed. He shoved against the man's leg, but the man only grunted. +It was challenge direct, and Alf accepted it. Like a flash one leg was +behind the man and Alf had thrust strongly with his shoulder against the +fellow's chest. Nothing could save the man from the fierce vigorousness +of the trick, and he was hurled over and backward. + +Next, the cap was on Alf's head and his fists were up before him. Then +he whirled about to prevent attack from behind, and all those in that +quarter fled precipitately. This was what he wanted. None remained +between him and the shore end. The pier was narrow. Facing them and +threatening with his fist those who attempted to pass him on either +side, he continued his retreat. It was exciting work, walking backward +and at the same time checking that surging mass of men. But the +dark-skinned peoples, the world over, have learned to respect the white +man's fist; and it was the battles fought by many sailors, more than his +own warlike front, that gave Alf the victory. + +Where the pier adjoins the shore was the station of the harbor police, +and Alf backed into the electric-lighted office, very much to the +amusement of the dapper lieutenant in charge. The sampan men, grown +quiet and orderly, clustered like flies by the open door, through which +they could see and hear what passed. + +Alf explained his difficulty in few words, and demanded, as the +privilege of a stranger in a strange land, that the lieutenant put him +aboard in the police-boat. The lieutenant, in turn, who knew all the +"rules and regulations" by heart, explained that the harbor police were +not ferrymen, and that the police-boats had other functions to perform +than that of transporting belated and penniless sailor-men to their +ships. He also said he knew the sampan men to be natural-born robbers, +but that so long as they robbed within the law he was powerless. It +was their right to collect fares in advance, and who was he to command +them to take a passenger and collect fare at the journey's end? Alf +acknowledged the justice of his remarks, but suggested that while he +could not command he might persuade. The lieutenant was willing to +oblige, and went to the door, from where he delivered a speech to the +crowd. But they, too, knew their rights, and, when the officer had +finished, shouted in chorus their abominable "Ten sen! You pay now! +You pay now!" + +"You see, I can do nothing," said the lieutenant, who, by the way, spoke +perfect English. "But I have warned them not to harm or molest you, so +you will be safe, at least. The night is warm and half over. Lie down +somewhere and go to sleep. I would permit you to sleep here in the +office, were it not against the rules and regulations." + +Alf thanked him for his kindness and courtesy; but the sampan men had +aroused all his pride of race and doggedness, and the problem could not +be solved that way. To sleep out the night on the stones was an +acknowledgment of defeat. + +"The sampan men refuse to take me out?" + +The lieutenant nodded. + +"And you refuse to take me out?" + +Again the lieutenant nodded. + +"Well, then, it's not in the rules and regulations that you can prevent +my taking myself out?" + +The lieutenant was perplexed. "There is no boat," he said. + +"That's not the question," Alf proclaimed hotly. "If I take myself out, +everybody's satisfied and no harm done?" + +"Yes; what you say is true," persisted the puzzled lieutenant. "But you +cannot take yourself out." + +"You just watch me," was the retort. + +Down went Alf's cap on the office floor. Right and left he kicked off +his low-cut shoes. Trousers and shirt followed. + +"Remember," he said in ringing tones, "I, as a citizen of the United +States, shall hold you, the city of Yokohama, and the government of +Japan responsible for those clothes. Good night." + +He plunged through the doorway, scattering the astounded boatmen to +either side, and ran out on the pier. But they quickly recovered and ran +after him, shouting with glee at the new phase the situation had taken +on. It was a night long remembered among the water-folk of Yokohama +town. Straight to the end Alf ran, and, without pause, dived off cleanly +and neatly into the water. He struck out with a lusty, single-overhand +stroke till curiosity prompted him to halt for a moment. Out of the +darkness, from where the pier should be, voices were calling to him. + +He turned on his back, floated, and listened. + +"All right! All right!" he could distinguish from the babel. "No pay +now; pay bime by! Come back! Come back now; pay bime by!" + +"No, thank you," he called back. "No pay at all. Good night." + +Then he faced about in order to locate the _Annie Mine_. She was +fully a mile away, and in the darkness it was no easy task to get her +bearings. First, he settled upon a blaze of lights which he knew nothing +but a man-of-war could make. That must be the United States war-ship +_Lancaster_. Somewhere to the left and beyond should be the +_Annie Mine._ But to the left he made out three lights close +together. That could not be the schooner. For the moment he was +confused. He rolled over on his back and shut his eyes, striving to +construct a mental picture of the harbor as he had seen it in daytime. +With a snort of satisfaction he rolled back again. The three lights +evidently belonged to the big English tramp steamer. Therefore the +schooner must lie somewhere between the three lights and the +_Lancaster_. He gazed long and steadily, and there, very dim and +low, but at the point he expected, burned a single light--the +anchor-light of the _Annie Mine_. + +And it was a fine swim under the starshine. The air was warm as the +water, and the water as warm as tepid milk. The good salt taste of it +was in his mouth, the tingling of it along his limbs; and the steady +beat of his heart, heavy and strong, made him glad for living. + +But beyond being glorious the swim was uneventful. On the right hand he +passed the many-lighted _Lancaster_, on the left hand the English +tramp, and ere long the _Annie Mine_ loomed large above him. He +grasped the hanging rope-ladder and drew himself noiselessly on deck. +There was no one in sight. He saw a light in the galley, and knew that +the captain's son, who kept the lonely anchor-watch, was making coffee. +Alf went forward to the forecastle. The men were snoring in their bunks, +and in that confined space the heat seemed to him insufferable. So he +put on a thin cotton shirt and a pair of dungaree trousers, tucked +blanket and pillow under his arm, and went up on deck and out on the +fore-castle-head. + +Hardly had he begun to doze when he was roused by a boat coming +alongside and hailing the anchor-watch. It was the police-boat, and to +Alf it was given to enjoy the excited conversation that ensued. Yes, the +captain's son recognized the clothes. They belonged to Alf Davis, one of +the seamen. What had happened? No; Alf Davis had not come aboard. He +was ashore. He was not ashore? Then he must be drowned. Here both the +lieutenant and the captain's son talked at the same time, and Alf could +make out nothing. Then he heard them come forward and rouse out the +crew. The crew grumbled sleepily and said that Alf Davis was not in the +forecastle; whereupon the captain's son waxed indignant at the Yokohama +police and their ways, and the lieutenant quoted rules and regulations +in despairing accents. + +Alf rose up from the forecastle-head and extended his hand, saying: + +"I guess I'll take those clothes. Thank you for bringing them aboard so +promptly." + +"I don't see why he couldn't have brought you aboard inside of them," +said the captain's son. + +And the police lieutenant said nothing, though he turned the clothes +over somewhat sheepishly to their rightful owner. + +The next day, when Alf started to go ashore, he found himself surrounded +by shouting and gesticulating, though very respectful, sampan men, all +extraordinarily anxious to have him for a passenger. Nor did the one +he selected say, "You pay now," when he entered his boat. "When Alf +prepared to step out on to the pier, he offered the man the customary +ten sen. But the man drew himself up and shook his head. + +"You all right," he said. "You no pay. You never no pay. You bully boy +and all right." + +And for the rest of the _Annie Mine's_ stay in port, the sampan men +refused money at Alf Davis's hand. Out of admiration for his pluck and +independence, they had given him the freedom of the harbor. + + + + +WHOSE BUSINESS IS TO LIVE + + +Stanton Davies and Jim Wemple ceased from their talk to listen to an +increase of uproar in the street. A volley of stones thrummed and boomed +the wire mosquito nettings that protected the windows. It was a hot +night, and the sweat of the heat stood on their faces as they listened. +Arose the incoherent clamor of the mob, punctuated by individual cries +in Mexican-Spanish. Least terrible among the obscene threats were: +"Death to the Gringos!" "Kill the American pigs!" "Drown the American +dogs in the sea!" + +Stanton Davies and Jim Wemple shrugged their shoulders patiently to each +other, and resumed their conversation, talking louder in order to make +themselves heard above the uproar. + +"The question is _how_," Wemple said. "It's forty-seven miles to +Panuco, by river----" + +"And the land's impossible, with Zaragoza's and Villa's men on the loot +and maybe fraternizing," Davies agreed. + +Wemple nodded and continued: "And she's at the East Coast Magnolia, two +miles beyond, if she isn't back at the hunting camp. We've got to get +her----" + +"We've played pretty square in this matter, Wemple," Davies said. "And +we might as well speak up and acknowledge what each of us knows the +other knows. You want her. I want her." + +Wemple lighted a cigarette and nodded. + +"And now's the time when it's up to us to make a show as if we didn't +want her and that all we want is just to save her and get her down +here." + +"And a truce until we do save her--I get you," Wempel affirmed. + +"A truce until we get her safe and sound back here in Tampico, or aboard +a battleship. After that? ..." + +Both men shrugged shoulders and beamed on each other as their hands met +in ratification. + +Fresh volleys of stones thrummed against the wire-screened windows; a +boy's voice rose shrilly above the clamor, proclaiming death to the +Gringos; and the house reverberated to the heavy crash of some battering +ram against the street-door downstairs. Both men, snatching up automatic +rifles, ran down to where their fire could command the threatened door. + +"If they break in we've got to let them have it," Wemple said. + +Davies nodded quiet agreement, then inconsistently burst out with a +lurid string of oaths. + +"To think of it!" he explained his wrath. "One out of three of those +curs outside has worked for you or me--lean-bellied, barefooted, +poverty-stricken, glad for ten centavos a day if they could only get +work. And we've given them steady jobs and a hundred and fifty centavos +a a day, and here they are yelling for our blood." + +"Only the half breeds," Davies corrected. + +"You know what I mean," Wemple replied. "The only peons we've lost are +those that have been run off or shot." + +The attack on the door ceasing, they returned upstairs. Half a dozen +scattered shots from farther along the street seemed to draw away the +mob, for the neighborhood became comparatively quiet. + +A whistle came to them through the open windows, and a man's voice +calling: + +"Wemple! Open the door! It's Habert! Want to talk to you!" + +Wemple went down, returning in several minutes with a tidily-paunched, +well-built, gray-haired American of fifty. He shook hands with Davies +and flung himself into a chair, breathing heavily. He did not relinquish +his clutch on the Colt's 44 automatic pistol, although he immediately +addressed himself to the task of fishing a filled clip of cartridges +from the pocket of his linen coat. He had arrived hatless and +breathless, and the blood from a stone-cut on the cheek oozed down his +face. He, too, in a fit of anger, springing to his feet when he had +changed clips in his pistol, burst out with mouth-filling profanity. + +"They had an American flag in the dirt, stamping and spitting on it. And +they told me to spit on it." + +Wemple and Davies regarded him with silent interrogation. + +"Oh, I know what you're wondering!" he flared out. "Would I a-spit on it +in the pinch? That's what's eating you. I'll answer. Straight out, brass +tacks, I WOULD. Put that in your pipe and smoke it." + +He paused to help himself to a cigar from the box on the table and to +light it with a steady and defiant hand. + +"Hell!--I guess this neck of the woods knows Anthony Habert, and you can +bank on it that it's never located his yellow streak. Sure, in the +pinch, I'd spit on Old Glory. What the hell d'ye think I'm going on the +streets for a night like this? Didn't I skin out of the Southern Hotel +half an hour ago, where there are forty buck Americans, not counting +their women, and all armed? That was safety. What d'ye think I came here +for?--to rescue you?" + +His indignation lumped his throat into silence, and he seemed shaken as +with an apoplexy. + +"Spit it out," Davies commanded dryly. + +"I'll tell you," Habert exploded. "It's Billy Boy. Fifty miles up +country and twenty-thousand throat-cutting federals and rebels between +him and me. D'ye know what that boy'd do, if he was here in Tampico and +I was fifty miles up the Panuco? Well, I know. And I'm going to do the +same--go and get him." + +"We're figuring on going up," Wemple assured him. + +"And that's why I headed here--Miss Drexel, of course?" + +Both men acquiesced and smiled. It was a time when men dared speak of +matters which at other times tabooed speech. + +"Then the thing's to get started," Habert exclaimed, looking at his +watch. "It's midnight now. We've got to get to the river and get a +boat--" + +But the clamor of the returning mob came through the windows in answer. + +Davies was about to speak, when the telephone rang, and Wemple sprang to +the instrument. + +"It's Carson," he interjected, as he listened. "They haven't cut the +wires across the river yet.--Hello, Carson. Was it a break or a cut? ... +Bully for you.... Yes, move the mules across to the potrero beyond +Tamcochin.... Who's at the water station? ... Can you still 'phone +him? ... Tell him to keep the tanks full, and to shut off the main to +Arico. Also, to hang on till the last minute, and keep a horse saddled +to cut and run for it. Last thing before he runs, he must jerk out the +'phone.... Yes, yes, yes. Sure. No breeds. Leave full-blooded Indians in +charge. Gabriel is a good _hombre_. Heaven knows, once we're chased +out, when we'll get back.... You can't pinch down Jaramillo under +twenty-five hundred barrels. We've got storage for ten days. Gabriel'll +have to handle it. Keep it moving, if we have to run it into the +river----" + +"Ask him if he has a launch," Habert broke in. + +"He hasn't," was Wemple's answer. "The federals commandeered the last +one at noon." + +"Say, Carson, how are you going to make your get-away?" Wemple queried. + +The man to whom he talked was across the Panuco, on the south side, at +the tank farm. + +"Says there isn't any get-away," Wemple vouchsafed to the other two. +"The federals are all over the shop, and he can't understand why they +haven't raided him hours ago." + +"... Who? Campos? That skunk! ... all right.... Don't be worried if you +don't hear from me. I'm going up river with Davies and Habert.... Use +your judgment, and if you get a safe chance at Campos, pot him.... Oh, +a hot time over here. They're battering our doors now. Yes, by all +means ... Good-by, old man." + +Wemple lighted a cigarette and wiped his forehead. + +"You know Campos, JosĂ© H. Campos," he +volunteered. "The dirty cur's stuck Carson up +for twenty thousand pesos. We had to pay, +or he'd have compelled half our peons to enlist +or set the wells on fire. And you know, +Davies, what we've done for him in past years. +Gratitude? Simple decency? Great Scott!" + + * * * * * + +It was the night of April twenty-first. On the morning of the +twenty-first the American marines and bluejackets had landed at Vera +Cruz and seized the custom house and the city. Immediately the news was +telegraphed, the vengeful Mexican mob had taken possession of the +streets of Tampico and expressed its disapproval of the action of the +United States by tearing down American flags and crying death to the +Americans. + +There was nothing save its own spinelessness to deter the mob from +carrying out its threat. Had it battered down the doors of the Southern +Hotel, or of other hotels, or of residences such as Wemple's, a fight +would have started in which the thousands of federal soldiers in Tampico +would have joined their civilian compatriots in the laudable task of +decreasing the Gringo population of that particular portion of Mexico. +There should have been American warships to act as deterrents; but +through some inexplicable excess of delicacy, or strategy, or heaven +knows what, the United States, when it gave its orders to take Vera +Cruz, had very carefully withdrawn its warships from Tampico to the open +Gulf a dozen miles away. This order had come to Admiral Mayo by wireless +from Washington, and thrice he had demanded the order to be repeated, +ere, with tears in his eyes, he had turned his back on his countrymen +and countrywomen and steamed to sea. + + * * * * * + +"Of all asinine things, to leave us in the lurch this way!" Habert was +denouncing the powers that be of his country. "Mayo'd never have done +it. Mark my words, he had to take program from Washington. And here we +are, and our dear ones scattered for fifty miles back up country.... +Say, if I lose Billy Boy I'll never dare go home to face the wife.--Come +on. Let the three of us make a start. We can throw the fear of God into +any gang on the streets." + +"Come on over and take a squint," Davies invited from where he stood, +somewhat back from the window, looking down into the street. + +It was gorged with rioters, all haranguing, cursing, crying out death, +and urging one another to smash the doors, but each hanging back from +the death he knew waited behind those doors for the first of the rush. + +"We can't break through a bunch like that, Habert," was Davies' comment. + +"And if we die under their feet we'll be of little use to Billy Boy or +anybody else up the Panuco," Wemple added. "And if----" + +A new movement of the mob caused him to break off. It was splitting +before a slow and silent advance of a file of white-clad men. + +"Bluejackets--Mayo's come back for us after all," Habert muttered. + +"Then we can get a navy launch," Davies said. + +The bedlam of the mob died away, and, in silence, the sailors reached +the street door and knocked for admittance. All three went down to open +it, and to discover that the callers were not Americans but two German +lieutenants and half a dozen German marines. At sight of the Americans, +the rage of the mob rose again, and was quelled by the grounding of the +rifle butts of the marines. + +"No, thank you," the senior lieutenant, in passable English, declined +the invitation to enter. He unconcernedly kept his cigar alive at such +times that the mob drowned his voice. "We are on the way back to our +ship. Our commander conferred with the English and Dutch commanders; but +they declined to cooperate, so our commander has undertaken the entire +responsibility. We have been the round of the hotels. They are to hold +their own until daybreak, when we'll take them off. We have given them +rockets such as these.--Take them. If your house is entered, hold your +own and send up a rocket from the roof. We can be here in force, in +forty-five minutes. Steam is up in all our launches, launch crews and +marines for shore duty are in the launches, and at the first rocket we +shall start." + +"Since you are going aboard now, we should like to go with you," Davies +said, after having rendered due thanks. + +The surprise and distaste on both lieutenants' faces was patent. + +"Oh, no," Davies laughed. "We don't want refuge. We have friends fifty +miles up river, and we want to get to the river in order to go up after +them." + +The pleasure on the officers' faces was immediate as they looked a +silent conference at each other. + +"Since our commander has undertaken grave responsibility on a night like +this, may we do less than take minor responsibility?" queried the elder. + +To this the younger heartily agreed. In a trice, upstairs and down +again, equipped with extra ammunition, extra pistols, and a +pocket-bulging supply of cigars, cigarettes and matches, the three +Americans were ready. Wemple called last instructions up the stairway to +imaginary occupants being left behind, ascertained that the spring lock +was on, and slammed the door. + +The officers led, followed by the Americans, the rear brought up by the +six marines; and the spitting, howling mob, not daring to cast a stone, +gave way before them. + + * * * * * + +As they came alongside the gangway of the cruiser, they saw launches and +barges lying in strings to the boat-booms, filled with men, waiting for +the rocket signal from the beleaguered hotels. A gun thundered from +close at hand, up river, followed by the thunder of numerous guns and +the reports of many rifles fired very rapidly. + +"Now what's the _Topila_ whanging away at?" Habert complained, then +joined the others in gazing at the picture. + +A searchlight, evidently emanating from the Mexican gunboat, was +stabbing the darkness to the middle of the river, where it played upon +the water. And across the water, the center of the moving circle of +light, flashed a long, lean speedboat. A shell burst in the air a +hundred feet astern of it. Somewhere, outside the light, other shells +were bursting in the water; for they saw the boat rocked by the waves +from the explosions. They could guess the whizzing of the rifle bullets. + +But for only several minutes the spectacle lasted. Such was the speed of +the boat that it gained shelter behind the German, when the Mexican +gunboat was compelled to cease fire. The speedboat slowed down, turned +in a wide and heeling circle, and ranged up alongside the launch at the +gangway. + +The lights from the gangway showed but one occupant, a tow-headed, +greasy-faced, blond youth of twenty, very lean, very calm, very much +satisfied with himself. + +"If it ain't Peter Tonsburg!" Habert ejaculated, reaching out a hand to +shake. "Howdy, Peter, howdy. And where in hell are you hellbent for, +surging by the _Topila_ in such scandalous fashion!" + +Peter, a Texas-born Swede of immigrant parents, filled with the old +Texas traditions, greasily shook hands with Wemple and Davies as well, +saying "Howdy," as only the Texan born can say it. + +"Me," he answered Habert. "I ain't hellbent nowhere exceptin' to get +away from the shell-fire. She's a caution, that _Topila_. Huh! but +I limbered 'em up some. I was goin' every inch of twenty-five. They was +like amateurs blazin' away at canvasback." + +"Which _Chill_ is it?" Wemple asked. + +"_Chill II_," Peter answered. "It's all that's left. _Chill I_ +a Greaser--you know 'm--Campos--commandeered this noon. I was runnin' +_Chill III_ when they caught me at sundown. Made me come in under +their guns at the East Coast outfit, and fired me out on my neck. + +"Now the boss'd gone over in this one to Tampico in the early evening, +and just about ten minutes ago I spots it landin' with a sousy bunch of +Federals at the East Coast, and swipes it back according. Where's the +boss? He ain't hurt, is he? Because I'm going after him." + +"No, you're not, Peter," Davies said. "Mr. Frisbie is safe at the +Southern Hotel, all except a five-inch scalp wound from a brick that's +got him down with a splitting headache. He's safe, so you're going with +us, going to take us, I mean, up beyond Panuco town." + +"Huh?--I can see myself," Peter retorted, wiping his greasy nose on a +wad of greasy cotton waste. "I got some cold. Besides, this +night-drivin' ain't good for my complexion." + +"My boy's up there," Habert said. + +"Well, he's bigger'n I am, and I reckon he can take care of himself." + +"And there's a woman there--Miss Drexel," Davies said quietly. + +"Who? Miss Drexel? Why didn't you say so at first!" Peter demanded +grievedly. He sighed and added, "Well, climb in an' make a start. Better +get your Dutch friends to donate me about twenty gallons of gasoline if +you want to get anywhere." + + * * * * * + +"Won't do you no good to lay low," Peter Tonsburg remarked, as, at full +speed, headed up river, the _Topila's_ searchlight stabbed them. +"High or low, if one of them shells hits in the vicinity--_good +night_!" + +Immediately thereafter the _Topila_ erupted. The roar of the +_Chill's_ exhaust nearly drowned the roar of the guns, but the +fragile hull of the craft was shaken and rocked by the bursting shells. +An occasional bullet thudded into or pinged off the _Chill_, and, +despite Peter's warning that, high or low, they were bound to get it if +it came to them, every man on board, including Peter, crouched, with +chest contracted by drawn-in shoulders, in an instinctive and purely +unconscious effort to lessen the area of body he presented as a target +or receptacle for flying fragments of steel. + +The _Topila_ was a federal gunboat. To complicate the affair, the +constitutionalists, gathered on the north shore in the siege of Tampico, +opened up on the speedboat with many rifles and a machine gun. + +"Lord, I'm glad they're Mexicans, and not Americans," Habert observed, +after five mad minutes in which no damage had been received. "Mexicans +are born with guns in their hands, and they never learn to use them." + +Nor was the _Chill_ or any man aboard damaged when at last she +rounded the bend of river that shielded her from the searchlight. + +"I'll have you in Panuco town in less'n three hours, ... if we don't hit +a log," Peter leaned back and shouted in Wemple's ear. "And if we do hit +driftwood, I'll have you in the swim quicker than that." + +_Chill II_ tore her way through the darkness, steered by the +tow-headed youth who knew every foot of the river and who guided his +course by the loom of the banks in the dim starlight. A smart breeze, +kicking up spiteful wavelets on the wider reaches, splashed them with +sheeted water as well as fine-flung spray. And, in the face of the +warmth of the tropic night, the wind, added to the speed of the boat, +chilled them through their wet clothes. + +"Now I know why she was named the _Chill_," Habert observed betwixt +chattering teeth. + +But conversation languished during the nearly three hours of drive +through the darkness. Once, by the exhaust, they knew that they passed +an unlighted launch bound down stream. And once, a glare of light, near +the south bank, as they passed through the Toreno field, aroused brief +debate as to whether it was the Toreno wells, or the bungalow on +Merrick's banana plantation that flared so fiercely. + +At the end of an hour, Peter slowed down and ran in to the bank. + +"I got a cache of gasoline here--ten gallons," he explained, "and it's +just as well to know it's here for the back trip." Without leaving the +boat, fishing arm-deep into the brush, he announced, "All hunky-dory." +He proceeded to oil the engine. "Huh!" he soliloquized for their +benefit. "I was just readin' a magazine yarn last night. 'Whose Business +Is to Die,' was its title. An' all I got to say is, 'The hell it is.' A +man's business is to live. Maybe you thought it was our business to die +when the _Topila_ was pepper-in' us. But you was wrong. We're +alive, ain't we? We beat her to it. That's the game. Nobody's got any +business to die. I ain't never goin' to die, if I've got any say about +it." + +He turned over the crank, and the roar and rush of the _Chill_ put +an end to speech. + +There was no need for Wemple or Davies to speak further in the affair +closest to their hearts. Their truce to love-making had been made as +binding as it was brief, and each rival honored the other with a firm +belief that he would commit no infraction of the truce. Afterward was +another matter. In the meantime they were one in the effort to get Beth +Drexel back to the safety of riotous Tampico or of a war vessel. + +It was four o'clock when they passed by Panuco Town. Shouts and songs +told them that the federal detachment holding the place was celebrating +its indignation at the landing of American bluejackets in Vera Cruz. +Sentinels challenged the _Chill_ from the shore and shot at random +at the noise of her in the darkness. + +A mile beyond, where a lighted river steamer with steam up lay at the +north bank, they ran in at the Apshodel wells. The steamer was small, +and the nearly two hundred Americans--men, women, and children--crowded +her capacity. Blasphemous greetings of pure joy and geniality were +exchanged between the men, and Habert learned that the steamboat was +waiting for his Billy Boy, who, astride a horse, was rounding up +isolated drilling gangs who had not yet learned that the United States +had seized Vera Cruz and that all Mexico was boiling. + +Habert climbed out to wait and to go down on the steamer, while the +three that remained on the _Chill_, having learned that Miss Drexel +was not with the refugees, headed for the Dutch Company on the south +shore. This was the big gusher, pinched down from one hundred and +eighty-five thousand daily barrels to the quantity the company +was able to handle. Mexico had no quarrel with Holland, so that the +superintendent, while up, with night guards out to prevent drunken +soldiers from firing his vast lakes of oil, was quite unemotional. Yes, +the last he had heard was that Miss Drexel and her brother were back at +the hunting lodge. No; he had not sent any warnings, and he doubted that +anybody else had. Not till ten o'clock the previous evening had he +learned of the landing at Vera Cruz. The Mexicans had turned nasty as +soon as they heard of it, and they had killed Miles Forman at the Empire +Wells, run off his labor, and looted the camp. Horses? No; he didn't +have horse or mule on the place. The federals had commandeered the last +animal weeks back. It was his belief, however, that there were a couple +of plugs at the lodge, too worthless even for the Mexicans to take. + +"It's a hike," Davies said cheerfully. + +"Six miles of it," Wemple agreed, equally cheerfully. "Let's beat it." + +A shot from the river, where they had left Peter in the boat, started +them on the run for the bank. A scattering of shots, as from two rifles, +followed. And while the Dutch superintendent, in execrable Spanish, +shouted affirmations of Dutch neutrality into the menacing dark, across +the gunwale of _Chill II_ they found the body of the tow-headed +youth whose business it had been not to die. + + * * * * * + +For the first hour, talking little, Davies and Wemple stumbled along the +apology for a road that led through the jungle to the lodge. They did +discuss the glares of several fires to the east along the south bank of +Panuco River, and hoped fervently that they were dwellings and not +wells. + +"Two billion dollars worth of oil right here in the Ebaño field alone," +Davies grumbled. + +"And a drunken Mexican, whose whole carcass and immortal soul aren't +worth ten pesos including hair, hide, and tallow, can start the bonfire +with a lighted wad of cotton waste," was Wemple's contribution. "And if +ever she starts, she'll gut the field of its last barrel." + +Dawn, at five, enabled them to accelerate their pace; and six o'clock +found them routing out the occupants of the lodge. + +"Dress for rough travel, and don't stop for any frills," Wemple called +around the corner of Miss Drexel's screened sleeping porch. + +"Not a wash, nothing," Davies supplemented grimly, as he shook hands +with Charley Drexel, who yawned and slippered up to them in pajamas. +"Where are those horses, Charley? Still alive?" + +Wemple finished giving orders to the sleepy peons to remain and care for +the place, occupying their spare time with hiding the more valuable +things, and was calling around the corner to Miss Drexel the news of the +capture of Vera Cruz, when Davies returned with the information that the +horses consisted of a pair of moth-eaten skates that could be depended +upon to lie down and die in the first half mile. + +Beth Drexel emerged, first protesting that under no circumstances would +she be guilty of riding the creatures, and, next, her brunette skin and +dark eyes still flushed warm with sleep, greeting the two rescuers. + +"It would be just as well if you washed your face, Stanton," she told +Davies; and, to Wemple: "You're just as bad, Jim. You are a pair of +dirty boys." + +"And so will you be," Wemple assured her, "before you get back to +Tampico. Are you ready?" + +"As soon as Juanita packs my hand bag." + +"Heavens, Beth, don't waste time!" exclaimed Wemple. "Jump in and grab +up what you want." + +"Make a start--make a start," chanted Davies. "Hustle! Hustle!--Charley, +get the rifle you like best and take it along. Get a couple for us." + +"Is it as serious as that?" Miss Drexel queried. + +Both men nodded. + +"The Mexicans are tearing loose," Davies explained. "How they missed +this place I don't know." A movement in the adjoining room startled him. +"Who's that?" he cried. + +"Why, Mrs. Morgan," Miss Drexel answered. + +"Good heavens, Wemple, I'd forgotten _her_," groaned Davies. "How +will we ever get her anywhere?" + +"Let Beth walk, and relay the lady on the nags." + +"She weighs a hundred and eighty," Miss Drexel laughed. "Oh, hurry, +Martha! We're waiting on you to start!" + +Muffled speech came through the partition, and then emerged a very +short, stout, much-flustered woman of middle age. + +"I simply can't walk, and you boys needn't demand it of me," was her +plaint. "It's no use. I couldn't walk half a mile to save my life, and +it's six of the worst miles to the river." + +They regarded her in despair. + +"Then you'll ride," said Davies. "Come on, Charley. We'll get a saddle +on each of the nags." + +Along the road through the tropic jungle, Miss Drexel and Juanita, +her Indian maid, led the way. Her brother, carrying the three rifles, +brought up the rear, while in the middle Davies and Wemple struggled +with Mrs. Morgan and the two decrepit steeds. One, a flea-bitten roan, +groaned continually from the moment Mrs. Morgan's burden was put upon +him till she was shifted to the other horse. And this other, a mangy +sorrel, invariably lay down at the end of a quarter of a mile of Mrs. +Morgan. + +Miss Drexel laughed and joked and encouraged; and Wemple, in brutal +fashion, compelled Mrs. Morgan to walk every third quarter of a mile. +At the end of an hour the sorrel refused positively to get up, and, so, +was abandoned. Thereafter, Mrs. Morgan rode the roan alternate quarters +of miles, and between times walked--if _walk_ may describe her +stumbling progress on two preposterously tiny feet with a man supporting +her on either side. + +A mile from the river, the road became more civilized, running along the +side of a thousand acres of banana plantation. + +"Parslow's," young Drexel said. "He'll lose a year's crop now on account +of this mix-up." + +"Oh, look what I've found!" Miss Drexel called from the lead. + +"First machine that ever tackled this road," was young Drexel's +judgment, as they halted to stare at the tire-tracks. + +"But look at the tracks," his sister urged. "The machine must have come +right out of the bananas and climbed the bank." + +"Some machine to climb a bank like that," was Davies' comment. "What it +did do was to go down the bank--take a scout after it, Charley, while +Wemple and I get Mrs. Morgan off her fractious mount. No machine ever +built could travel far through those bananas." + +The flea-bitten roan, on its four legs upstanding, continued bravely to +stand until the lady was removed, whereupon, with a long sigh, it sank +down on the ground. Mrs. Morgan likewise sighed, sat down, and regarded +her tiny feet mournfully. + +"Go on, boys," she said. "Maybe you can find something at the river and +send back for me." + +But their indignant rejection of the plan never attained speech, for, at +that instant, from the green sea of banana trees beneath them, came the +sudden purr of an engine. A minute later the splutter of an exhaust told +them the silencer had been taken off. The huge-fronded banana trees were +violently agitated as by the threshing of a hidden Titan. They could +identify the changing of gears and the reversing and going ahead, until, +at the end of five minutes, a long low, black car burst from the wall of +greenery and charged the soft earth bank, but the earth was too soft, +and when, two-thirds of the way up, beaten, Charley Drexel braked the +car to a standstill, the earth crumbled from under the tires, and he ran +it down and back, the way he had come, until half-buried in the bananas. + +"'A Merry Oldsmobile!'" Miss Drexel quoted from the popular song, +clapping her hands. "Now, Martha, your troubles are over." + +"Six-cylinder, and sounds as if it hadn't been out of the shop a week, +or may I never ride in a machine again," Wemple remarked, looking to +Davies for confirmation. + +Davies nodded. + +"It's Allison's," he said. "Campos tried to shake him down for a private +loan, and--well, you know Allison. He told Campos to go to. And Campos, +in revenge, commandeered his new car. That was two days ago, before we +lifted a hand at Vera Cruz. Allison told me yesterday the last he'd +heard of the car it was on a steamboat bound up river. And here's where +they ditched it--but let's get a hustle on and get her into the +running." + +Three attempts they made, with young Drexel at the wheel; but the soft +earth and the pitch of the grade baffled. + +"She's got the power all right," young Drexel protested. "But she can't +bite into that mush." + +So far, they had spread on the ground the robes found in the car. +The men now added their coats, and Wemple, for additional traction, +unsaddled the roan, and spread the cinches, stirrup leathers, saddle +blanket, and bridle in the way of the wheels. The car took the +treacherous slope in a rush, with churning wheels biting into the woven +fabrics; and, with no more than a hint of hesitation, it cleared the +crest and swung into the road. + +"Isn't she the spunky devil!" Drexel exulted. "Say, she could climb the +side of a house if she could get traction." + +"Better put on that silencer again, if you don't want to play tag with +every soldier in the district," Wemple ordered, as they helped Mrs. +Morgan in. + +The road to the Dutch gusher compelled them to go through the outskirts +of Panuco town. Indian and half breed women gazed stolidly at the +strange vehicle, while the children and barking dogs clamorously +advertised its progress. Once, passing long lines of tethered federal +horses, they were challenged by a sentry; but at Wemple's "Throw on the +juice!" the car took the rutted road at fifty miles an hour. A shot +whistled after them. But it was not the shot that made Mrs. Morgan +scream. The cause was a series of hog-wallows masked with mud, which +nearly tore the steering wheel from Drexel's hands before he could +reduce speed. + +"Wonder it didn't break an axle," Davies growled. "Go on and take it +easy, Charley. We're past any interference." + +They swung into the Dutch camp and into the beginning of their real +troubles. The refugee steamboat had departed down river from the +Asphodel camp; _Chill II_ had disappeared, the superintendent knew +not how, along with the body of Peter Tonsburg; and the superintendent +was dubious of their remaining. + +"I've got to consider the owners," he told them. "This is the biggest +well in Mexico, and you know it--a hundred and eighty-five thousand +barrels daily flow. I've no right to risk it. We have no trouble with +the Mexicans. It's you Americans. If you stay here, I'll have to protect +you. And I can't protect you, anyway. We'll all lose our lives and +they'll destroy the well in the bargain. And if they fire it, it means +the entire Ebaño oil field. The strata's too broken. We're flowing +twenty thousand barrels now, and we can't pinch down any further. As it +is, the oil's coming up outside the pipe. And we can't have a fight. +We've got to keep the oil moving." + +The men nodded. It was cold-blooded logic; but there was no fault to it. + +The harassed expression eased on the superintendent's face, and he +almost beamed on them for agreeing with him. + +"You've got a good machine there," he continued. "The ferry's at the +bank at Panuco, and once you're across, the rebels aren't so thick on +the north shore. Why, you can beat the steamboat back to Tampico by +hours. And it hasn't rained for days. The road won't be at all bad." + + * * * * * + +"Which is all very good," Davies observed to Wemple as they approached +Panuco, "except for the fact that the road on the other side was never +built for automobiles, much less for a long-bodied one like this. I wish +it were the Four instead of the Six." + +"And it would bother you with a Four to negotiate that hill at Aliso +where the road switchbacks above the river." + +"And we're going to do it with a Six or lose a perfectly good Six in +trying," Beth Drexel laughed to them. + +Avoiding the cavalry camp, they entered Panuco with all the speed the +ruts permitted, swinging dizzy corners to the squawking of chickens and +barking of dogs. To gain the ferry, they had to pass down one side of +the great plaza which was the heart of the city. Peon soldiers, drowsing +in the sun or clustering around the _cantinas_, stared stupidly at +them as they flashed past. Then a drunken major shouted a challenge from +the doorway of a _cantina_ and began vociferating orders, and as +they left the plaza behind they could hear rising the familiar mob-cry +"_Kill the Gringoes!_" + +"If any shooting begins, you women get down in the bottom of the car," +Davies commanded. "And there's the ferry all right. Be careful, +Charley." + +The machine plunged directly down the bank through a cut so deep that it +was more like a chute, struck the gangplank with a terrific bump, and +seemed fairly to leap on board. The ferry was scarcely longer than the +machine, and Drexel, visibly shaken by the closeness of the shave, +managed to stop only when six inches remained between the front wheels +and overboard. + +It was a cable ferry, operated by gasoline, and, while Wemple cast off +the mooring lines, Davies was making swift acquaintance with the engine. +The third turn-over started it, and he threw it into gear with the +windlass that began winding up the cable from the river's bottom. + +By the time they were in midstream a score of horsemen rode out on the +bank they had just left and opened a scattering fire. The party crowded +in the shelter of the car and listened to the occasional richochet of a +bullet. Once, only, the car was struck. + +"Here!--what are you up to!" Wemple demanded suddenly of Drexel, who had +exposed himself to fish a rifle out of the car. + +"Going to show the skunks what shooting is," was his answer. + +"No, you don't," Wemple said. "We're not here to fight, but to get +this party to Tampico." He remembered Peter Tonsburg's remark. "Whose +business is to live, Charley--that's our business. Anybody can get +killed. It's too easy these days." + +Still under fire, they moored at the north shore, and when Davies had +tossed overboard the igniter from the ferry engine and commandeered ten +gallons of its surplus gasoline, they took the steep, soft road up the +bank in a rush. + +"Look at her climb," Drexel uttered gleefully. "That Aliso hill won't +bother us at all. She'll put a crimp in it, that's what she'll do." + +"It isn't the hill, it's the sharp turn of the zig-zag that's liable to +put a crimp in her," Davies answered. "That road was never laid out for +autos, and no auto has ever been over it. They steamboated this one up." + +But trouble came before Aliso was reached. Where the road dipped +abruptly into a small jag of hollow that was almost V-shaped, it arose +out and became a hundred yards of deep sand. In order to have speed left +for the sand after he cleared the stiff up-grade of the V, Drexel was +compelled to hit the trough of the V with speed. Wemple clutched Miss +Drexel as she was on the verge of being bounced out. Mrs. Morgan, too +solid for such airiness, screamed from the pain of the bump; and even +the imperturbable Juanita fell to crossing herself and uttering prayers +with exceeding rapidity. + +The car cleared the crest and encountered the sand, going slower from +moment to moment, slewing and writhing and squirming from side to side. +The men leaped out and began shoving. Miss Drexel urged Juanita out and +followed. But the car came to a standstill, and Drexel, looking back and +pointing, showed the first sign of being beaten. Two things he pointed +to: a constitutional soldier on horseback a quarter of a mile in the +rear; and a portion of the narrow road that had fallen out bodily on the +far slope of the V. + +"Can't get at this sand unless we go back and try over, and we ditch the +car if we try to back up that." + +The ditch was a huge natural sump-hole, the stagnant surface of which +was a-crawl with slime twenty feet beneath. + +Davies and Wemple sprang to take the boy's place. + +"You can't do it," he urged. "You can get the back wheels past, but +right there you hit that little curve, and if you make it your front +wheel will be off the bank. If you don't make it, your back wheel'll be +off." + +Both men studied it carefully, then looked at each other. + +"We've got to," said Davies. + +"And we're going to," Wemple said, shoving his rival aside in comradely +fashion and taking the post of danger at the wheel. "You're just as good +as I at the wheel, Davies," he explained. "But you're a better shot. +Your job's cut out to go back and hold off any Greasers that show up." + +Davies took a rifle and strolled back with so ominous an air that the +lone cavalryman put spurs to his horse and fled. Mrs. Morgan was helped +out and sent plodding and tottering unaided on her way to the end of the +sand stretch. Miss Drexel and Juanita joined Charley in spreading the +coats and robes on the sand and in gathering and spreading small +branches, brush, and armfuls of a dry, brittle shrub. But all three +ceased from their exertions to watch Wemple as he shot the car backward +down the V and up. The car seemed first to stand on one end, then on the +other, and to reel drunkenly and to threaten to turn over into the +sump-hole when its right front wheel fell into the air where the road +had ceased to be. But the hind wheels bit and climbed the grade and out. + +Without pause, gathering speed down the perilous slope, Wemple came +ahead and up, gaining fifty feet of sand over the previous failure. More +of the alluvial soil of the road had dropped out at the bad place; but +he took the V in reverse, overhung the front wheel as before, and from +the top came ahead again. Four times he did this, gaining each time, but +each time knocking a bigger hole where the road fell out, until Miss +Drexel begged him not to try again. + +He pointed to a squad of horsemen coming at a gallop along the road a +mile in the rear, and took the V once again in reverse. + +"If only we had more stuff," Drexel groaned to his sister, as he threw +down a meager, hard-gathered armful of the dry and brittle shrub, and as +Wemple once more, with rush and roar, shot down the V. + +For an instant it seemed that the great car would turn over into the +sump, but the next instant it was past. It struck the bottom of the +hollow a mighty wallop, and bounced and upended to the steep pitch of +the climb. Miss Drexel, seized by inspiration or desperation, with a +quick movement stripped off her short, corduroy tramping-skirt, and, +looking very lithe and boyish in slender-cut pongee bloomers, ran along +the sand and dropped the skirt for a foothold for the slowly revolving +wheels. Almost, but not quite, did the car stop, then, gathering way, +with the others running alongside and shoving, it emerged on the hard +road. + +While they tossed the robes and coats and Miss Drexel's skirt into the +bottom of the car and got Mrs. Morgan on board, Davies overtook them. + +"Down on the bottom!--all of you!" he shouted, as he gained the running +board and the machine sprang away. A scattering of shots came from the +rear. + +"Whose business is to live!--hunch down!" Davies yelled in Wemple's ear, +accompanying the instruction with an open-handed blow on the shoulder. + +"Live yourself," Wemple grumbled as he obediently hunched. "Get your +head down. You're exposing yourself." + +The pursuit lasted but a little while, and died away in an occasional +distant shot. + +"They've quit," Davies announced. "It never entered their stupid heads +that they could have caught us on Aliso Hill." + + * * * * * + +"It can't be done," was Charley Drexel's quick judgment of youth, as the +machine stopped and they surveyed the acute-angled turn on the stiff +up-grade of Aliso. Beneath was the swift-running river. + +"Get out everybody!" Wemple commanded. "Up-side, all of you, if you +don't want the car to turn over on you. Spread traction wherever she +needs it." + +"Shoot her ahead, or back--she can't stop," Davies said quietly, from +the outer edge of the road, where he had taken position. "The earth's +crumbling away from under the tires every second she stands still." + +"Get out from under, or she'll be on top of you," Wemple ordered, as he +went ahead several yards. + +But again, after the car rested a minute, the light, dry earth began to +crack and crumble away from under the tires, rolling in a miniature +avalanche down the steep declivity into the water. And not until Wemple +had backed fifty yards down the narrow road did he find solid resting +for the car. He came ahead on foot and examined the acute angle formed +by the two zig-zags. Together with Davies he planned what was to be +done. + +"When you come you've got to come a-humping," Davies advised. "If you +stop anywhere for more than seconds, it's good night, and the walking +won't be fine." + +"She's full of fight, and she can do it. See that hard formation right +there on the inside wall. It couldn't have come at a better spot. If I +don't make her hind wheels climb half way up it, we'll start walking +about a second thereafter." + +"She's a two-fisted piece of machinery," Davies encouraged. "I know her +kind. If she can't do it, no machine can that was ever made. Am I right, +Beth?" + +"She's a regular, spunky she-devil," Miss Drexel laughed agreement. "And +so are the pair of you--er--of the male persuasion, I mean." + +Miss Drexel had never seemed so fascinating to either of them as she was +then, in the excitement quite unconscious of her abbreviated costume, +her brown hair flying, her eyes sparkling, her lips smiling. Each man +caught the other in that moment's pause to look, and each man sighed to +the other and looked frankly into each other's eyes ere he turned to the +work at hand. + +Wemple came up with his usual rush, but it was a gauged rush; and Davies +took the post of danger, the outside running board, where his weight +would help the broad tires to bite a little deeper into the treacherous +surface. If the road-edge crumbled away it was inevitable that he would +be caught under the car as it rolled over and down to the river. + +It was ahead and reverse, ahead and reverse, with only the briefest of +pauses in which to shift the gears. Wemple backed up the hard formation +on the inside bank till the car seemed standing on end, rushed ahead +till the earth of the outer edge broke under the front tires and +splashed in the water. Davies, now off, and again on the running board +when needed, accompanied the car in its jerky and erratic progress, +tossing robes and coats under the tires, calling instructions to Drexel +similarly occupied on the other side, and warning Miss Drexel out of the +way. + +"Oh, you Merry Olds, you Merry Olds, you Merry Olds," Wemple muttered +aloud, as if in prayer, as he wrestled the car about the narrow area, +gaining sometimes inches in pivoting it, sometimes fetching back up the +inner wall precisely at the spot previously attained, and, once, having +the car, with the surface of the roadbed under it, slide bodily and +sidewise, two feet down the road. + +The clapping of Miss Drexel's hands was the first warning Davies +received that the feat was accomplished, and, swinging on to the running +board, he found the car backing in the straight-away up the next zig-zag +and Wemple still chanting ecstatically, "Oh, you Merry Olds, you Merry +Olds!" + +There were no more grades nor zigzags between them and Tampico, but, so +narrow was the primitive road, two miles farther were backed before +space was found in which to turn around. One thing of importance +did lie between them and Tampico--namely the investing lines of the +constitutionalists. But here, at noon, fortune favored in the form of +three American soldiers of fortune, operators of machine guns, who had +fought the entire campaign with Villa from the beginning of the advance +from the Texan border. Under a white flag, Wemple drove the car across +the zone of debate into the federal lines, where good fortune, in the +guise of an ubiquitous German naval officer, again received them. + +"I think you are nearly the only Americans left in Tampico," he told +them. "About all the rest are lying out in the Gulf on the different +warships. But at the Southern Hotel there are several, and the situation +seems quieter." + +As they got out at the Southern, Davies laid his hand on the car and +murmured, "Good old girl!" Wemple followed suit. And Miss Drexel, +engaging both men's eyes and about to say something, was guilty of a +sudden moisture in her own eyes that made her turn to the car with a +caressing hand and repeat, "Good old girl!" + +*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 14449 *** diff --git a/14449-h/14449-h.htm b/14449-h/14449-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..f20c418 --- /dev/null +++ b/14449-h/14449-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,4515 @@ +<!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 Dutch Courage and Other Stories, by Jack London</title> +<style type="text/css"> +/*<![CDATA[*/ + <!-- + body { margin-left: 5%; margin-right: 5%; } + p { text-indent: 1em; + margin-top: .75em; + font-size: 100%; + text-align: justify; + margin-bottom: .75em; } + h1,h2,h3,h4,h5,h6 { text-align: center; } + hr { width: 50%; } + hr.full { width: 100%; } + .foot { margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; text-align: justify; text-indent: -3em; font-size: 85%; } + .poem { margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; margin-bottom: 1em; text-align: left; } + .poem .stanza { margin: 1em 0em 1em 0em; } + .poem p { margin: 0; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em; } + .poem p.i2 { margin-left: 1.5em; } + .poem p.i4 { margin-left: 2.5em; } + .poem p.i6 { margin-left: 3.5em; } + .quote { margin-left: 6%; margin-right: 6%; text-indent: 0em; font-size: 90%; } + .toc { margin-left: 15%; font-size: 80%; margin-bottom: 0em;} + center { padding: 0.8em;} + 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: 8pt;} +/*]]>*/ + // --> +</style> +</head> +<body> +<div>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 14449 ***</div> +<h1>The Project Gutenberg eBook, Dutch Courage and Other Stories, by Jack +London</h1> +<p> </p> +<p> </p> +<hr class="full" /> +<div style="height: 2em;"><br /></div> + +<a name="image-0001"><!--IMG--></a> +<div style="text-align: center; margin: auto; width: 70%;"> +<a href="images/frontis.jpg" target="_blank"><img src="images/frontis.jpg" width="80%" +alt="Jack London, Sailor" /></a><br /> +<b>Jack London, Sailor</b> +</div> + +<div style="height: 4em;"><br /><br /><br /><br /></div> + +<h1> + DUTCH COURAGE<br /> AND OTHER STORIES +</h1> +<h3> +BY JACK LONDON +</h3> +<p> </p> + +<center><small> +<i>NEW YORK</i><br /> +1924 +</small></center> + + +<a name="h2H_PREF" id="h2H_PREF"><!-- H2 anchor --></a> + +<div style="height: 4em;"><br /><br /><br /><br /></div> + +<h2> + PREFACE +</h2> +<p> +"I've never written a line that I'd be ashamed for my young daughters to +read, and I never shall write such a line!" +</p> +<p> +Thus Jack London, well along in his career. And thus almost any +collection of his adventure stories is acceptable to young readers as +well as to their elders. So, in sorting over the few manuscripts still +unpublished in book form, while most of them were written primarily for +boys and girls, I do not hesitate to include as appropriate a tale such +as "Whose Business Is to Live." +</p> +<p> +Number two of the present group, "Typhoon Off the Coast of Japan," is +the first story ever written by Jack London for publication. At the age +of seventeen he had returned from his deep-water voyage in the sealing +schooner <i>Sophie Sutherland</i>, and was working thirteen hours a day +for forty dollars a month in an Oakland, California, jute mill. The +<i>San Francisco Call</i> offered a prize of twenty-five dollars for the +best written descriptive article. Jack's mother, Flora London, +remembering that I had excelled in his school "compositions," urged him +to enter the contest by recalling some happening of his travels. Grammar +school, years earlier, had been his sole disciplined education. But his +wide reading, worldly experience, and extraordinary powers of +observation and correlation, enabled him to command first prize. It is +notable that the second and third awards went to students at California +and Stanford universities. +</p> +<p> +Jack never took the trouble to hunt up that old <i>San Francisco +Call</i> of November 12, 1893; but when I came to write his biography, +"The Book of Jack London," I unearthed the issue, and the tale appears +intact in my English edition, published in 1921. And now, gathering +material for what will be the final Jack London collections, I cannot +but think that his first printed story will have unusual interest for +his readers of all ages. +</p> +<p> +The boy Jack's unexpected success in that virgin venture naturally +spurred him to further effort. It was, for one thing, the pleasantest +way he had ever earned so much money, even if it lacked the element of +physical prowess and danger that had marked those purple days with the +oyster pirates, and, later, equally exciting passages with the Fish +Patrol. He only waited to catch up on sleep lost while hammering out +"Typhoon Off the Coast of Japan," before applying himself to new +fiction. That was what was the matter with it: it was sheer fiction in +place of the white-hot realism of the "true story" that had brought him +distinction. This second venture he afterward termed "gush." It was +promptly rejected by the editor of the <i>Call</i>. Lacking experience +in such matters, Jack could not know why. And it did not occur to him to +submit his manuscript elsewhere. His fire was dampened; he gave over +writing and continued with the jute mill and innocent social diversion +in company with Louis Shattuck and his friends, who had superseded +Jack's wilder comrades and hazards of bay- and sea-faring. This period, +following the publication of "Typhoon Off the Coast of Japan," is +touched upon in his book "John Barleycorn." +</p> +<p> +The next that one hears of attempts at writing is when, during his +tramping episode, he showed some stories to his aunt, Mrs. Everhard, in +St. Joseph, Michigan. And in the ensuing months of that year, 1894, she +received other romances mailed at his stopping places along the eastward +route, alone or with Kelly's Industrial Army. As yet it had not sunk +into his consciousness that his unyouthful knowledge of life in the raw +would be the means of success in literature; therefore he discoursed of +imaginary things and persons, lords and ladies, days of chivalry and +what not—anything but out of his priceless first-hand lore. At the same +time, however, he kept a small diary which, in the days when he had +found himself, helped in visualizing his tramp life, in "The Road." +</p> +<p> +The only out and out "juvenile" in the Jack London list prior to his +death is "The Cruise of the Dazzler," published in 1902. At that it is a +good and authentic maritime study of its kind, and not lacking in honest +thrills. "Tales of the Fish Patrol" comes next as a book for boys; but +the happenings told therein are perilous enough to interest many an +older reader. +</p> +<p> +I am often asked which of his books have made the strongest appeal to +youth. The impulse is to answer that it depends upon the particular type +of youth. As example, there lies before me a letter from a friend: "Ruth +(she is eleven) has been reading every book of your husband's that she +can get hold of. She is crazy over the stories. I have bought nearly all +of them, but cannot find 'The Son of the Wolf,' 'Moon Face,' and +'Michael Brother of Jerry.' Will you tell me where I can order these?" I +have not yet learned Ruth's favorites; but I smile to myself at thought +of the re-reading she may have to do when her mind has more fully +developed. +</p> +<p> +The youth of every country who read Jack London naturally turn to his +adventure stories—particularly "The Call of the Wild" and its companion +"White Fang," "The Sea Wolf," "The Cruise of the Snark," and my own +journal, "The Log of the Snark," and "Our Hawaii," "Smoke Bellew Tales," +"Adventure," "The Mutiny of the Elsinore," as well as "Before Adam," +"The Game," "The Abysmal Brute," "The Road," "Jerry of the Islands" and +its sequel "Michael Brother of Jerry." And because of the last named, +the youth of many lands are enrolling in the famous Jack London Club. +This was inspired by Dr. Francis H. Bowley, President of the +Massachusetts S.P.C.A. The Club expects no dues. Membership is automatic +through the mere promise to leave any playhouse during an animal +performance. The protest thereby registered is bound, in good time, to +do away with the abuses that attend animal training for show purposes. +"Michael Brother of Jerry" was written out of Jack London's heart of +love and head of understanding of animals, aided by a years'-long study +of the conditions of which he treats. Incidentally this book contains +one of the most charming bits of seafaring romance of the Southern Ocean +that he ever wrote. +</p> +<p> +During the Great War, the English speaking soldiers called freely for +the foregoing novels, dubbing them "The Jacklondons"; and there was also +lively demand for "Burning Daylight," "The Scarlet Plague," "The Star +Rover," "The Little Lady of the Big House," "The Valley of the Moon," +and, because of its prophetic spirit, "The Iron Heel." There was +likewise a desire for the short-story collections, such as "The God of +His Fathers," "Children of the Frost," "The Faith of Men," "Love of +Life," "Lost Face," "When God Laughs," and later groups like "South Sea +Tales," "A Son of the Sun," "The Night Born," and "The House of Pride," +and a long list beside. +</p> +<p> +But for the serious minded youth of America, Great Britain, and all +countries where Jack London's work has been translated—youth +considering life with a purpose—"Martin Eden" is the beacon. Passing +years only augment the number of messages that find their way to me from +near and far, attesting the worth to thoughtful boys and girls, young +men and women, of the author's own formative struggle in life and +letters as partially outlined in "Martin Eden." +</p> +<p> +The present sheaf of young folk's stories were written during the latter +part of that battle for recognition, and my gathering of them inside +book covers is pursuant of his own intention at the time of his death on +November 22, 1916. +</p> + +<p style="text-align: right;"> CHARMIAN LONDON. </p> + +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i2"> Jack London Ranch, </p> +<p class="i4"> Glen Ellen, Sonoma County, California. </p> +<p class="i6"> August 1, 1922. </p> +</div> +</div> + + +<hr class="full" /> + +<div style="height: 4em;"><br /><br /><br /><br /></div> + +<h2> + TABLE OF CONTENTS +</h2> +<p><a href="#h2H_PREF"> +PREFACE +</a></p> +<p><a href="#h2H_4_0003"> +DUTCH COURAGE +</a></p> +<p><a href="#h2H_4_0004"> +TYPHOON OFF THE COAST OF JAPAN +</a></p> +<p><a href="#h2H_4_0005"> +THE LOST POACHER +</a></p> +<p><a href="#h2H_4_0006"> +THE BANKS OF THE SACRAMENTO +</a></p> +<p><a href="#h2H_4_0007"> +CHRIS FARRINGTON: ABLE SEAMAN +</a></p> +<p><a href="#h2H_4_0008"> +TO REPEL BOARDERS +</a></p> +<p><a href="#h2H_4_0009"> +AN ADVENTURE IN THE UPPER SEA +</a></p> +<p><a href="#h2H_4_0010"> +BALD-FACE +</a></p> +<p><a href="#h2H_4_0011"> +IN YEDDO BAY +</a></p> +<p><a href="#h2H_4_0012"> +WHOSE BUSINESS IS TO LIVE +</a></p> + +<div style="height: 4em;"><br /><br /><br /><br /></div> + +<hr class="full" /> + +<a name="h2H_4_0003" id="h2H_4_0003"><!-- H2 anchor --></a> + +<div style="height: 4em;"><br /><br /><br /><br /></div> + +<h2> + DUTCH COURAGE +</h2> +<p> +"Just our luck!" +</p> +<p> +Gus Lafee finished wiping his hands and sullenly threw the towel upon +the rocks. His attitude was one of deep dejection. The light seemed gone +out of the day and the glory from the golden sun. Even the keen mountain +air was devoid of relish, and the early morning no longer yielded its +customary zest. +</p> +<p> +"Just our luck!" Gus repeated, this time avowedly for the edification of +another young fellow who was busily engaged in sousing his head in the +water of the lake. +</p> +<p> +"What are you grumbling about, anyway?" Hazard Van Dorn lifted a +soap-rimmed face questioningly. His eyes were shut. "What's our luck?" +</p> +<p> +"Look there!" Gus threw a moody glance skyward. "Some duffer's got ahead +of us. We've been scooped, that's all!" +</p> +<p> +Hazard opened his eyes, and caught a fleeting glimpse of a white flag +waving arrogantly on the edge of a wall of rock nearly a mile above his +head. Then his eyes closed with a snap, and his face wrinkled +spasmodically. Gus threw him the towel, and uncommiseratingly watched +him wipe out the offending soap. He felt too blue himself to take stock +in trivialities. +</p> +<p> +Hazard groaned. +</p> +<p> +"Does it hurt—much?" Gus queried, coldly, without interest, as if it +were no more than his duty to ask after the welfare of his comrade. +</p> +<p> +"I guess it does," responded the suffering one. +</p> +<p> +"Soap's pretty strong, eh?—Noticed it myself." +</p> +<p> +"'Tisn't the soap. It's—it's <i>that!</i>" He opened his reddened eyes +and pointed toward the innocent white little flag. "That's what hurts." +</p> +<p> +Gus Lafee did not reply, but turned away to start the fire and begin +cooking breakfast. His disappointment and grief were too deep for +anything but silence, and Hazard, who felt likewise, never opened his +mouth as he fed the horses, nor once laid his head against their arching +necks or passed caressing fingers through their manes. The two boys were +blind, also, to the manifold glories of Mirror Lake which reposed at +their very feet. Nine times, had they chosen to move along its margin +the short distance of a hundred yards, could they have seen the sunrise +repeated; nine times, from behind as many successive peaks, could they +have seen the great orb rear his blazing rim; and nine times, had they +but looked into the waters of the lake, could they have seen the +phenomena reflected faithfully and vividly. But all the Titanic grandeur +of the scene was lost to them. They had been robbed of the chief +pleasure of their trip to Yosemite Valley. They had been frustrated in +their long-cherished design upon Half Dome, and hence were rendered +disconsolate and blind to the beauties and the wonders of the place. +</p> +<p> +Half Dome rears its ice-scarred head fully five thousand feet above the +level floor of Yosemite Valley. In the name itself of this great rock +lies an accurate and complete description. Nothing more nor less is it +than a cyclopean, rounded dome, split in half as cleanly as an apple +that is divided by a knife. It is, perhaps, quite needless to state that +but one-half remains, hence its name, the other half having been carried +away by the great ice-river in the stormy time of the Glacial Period. In +that dim day one of those frigid rivers gouged a mighty channel from out +the solid rock. This channel to-day is Yosemite Valley. But to return to +the Half Dome. On its northeastern side, by circuitous trails and stiff +climbing, one may gain the Saddle. Against the slope of the Dome the +Saddle leans like a gigantic slab, and from the top of this slab, one +thousand feet in length, curves the great circle to the summit of the +Dome. A few degrees too steep for unaided climbing, these one thousand +feet defied for years the adventurous spirits who fixed yearning eyes +upon the crest above. +</p> +<p> +One day, a couple of clear-headed mountaineers had proceeded to insert +iron eye-bolts into holes which they drilled into the rock every few +feet apart. But when they found themselves three hundred feet above the +Saddle, clinging like flies to the precarious wall with on either hand a +yawning abyss, their nerves failed them and they abandoned the +enterprise. So it remained for an indomitable Scotchman, one George +Anderson, finally to achieve the feat. Beginning where they had left +off, drilling and climbing for a week, he had at last set foot upon that +awful summit and gazed down into the depths where Mirror Lake reposed, +nearly a mile beneath. +</p> +<p> +In the years which followed, many bold men took advantage of the huge +rope ladder which he had put in place; but one winter ladder, cables and +all were carried away by the snow and ice. True, most of the eye-bolts, +twisted and bent, remained. But few men had since essayed the hazardous +undertaking, and of those few more than one gave up his life on the +treacherous heights, and not one succeeded. +</p> +<p> +But Gus Lafee and Hazard Van Dorn had left the smiling valley-land of +California and journeyed into the high Sierras, intent on the great +adventure. And thus it was that their disappointment was deep and +grievous when they awoke on this morning to receive the forestalling +message of the little white flag. +</p> +<p> +"Camped at the foot of the Saddle last night and went up at the first +peep of day," Hazard ventured, long after the silent breakfast had been +tucked away and the dishes washed. +</p> +<p> +Gus nodded. It was not in the nature of things that a youth's spirits +should long remain at low ebb, and his tongue was beginning to loosen. +</p> +<p> +"Guess he's down by now, lying in camp and feeling as big as Alexander," +the other went on. "And I don't blame him, either; only I wish it were +we." +</p> +<p> +"You can be sure he's down," Gus spoke up at last. "It's mighty warm on +that naked rock with the sun beating down on it at this time of year. +That was our plan, you know, to go up early and come down early. And any +man, sensible enough to get to the top, is bound to have sense enough to +do it before the rock gets hot and his hands sweaty." +</p> +<p> +"And you can be sure he didn't take his shoes with, him." Hazard rolled +over on his back and lazily regarded the speck of flag fluttering +briskly on the sheer edge of the precipice. "Say!" He sat up with a +start. "What's that?" +</p> +<p> +A metallic ray of light flashed out from the summit of Half Dome, then a +second and a third. The heads of both boys were craned backward on the +instant, agog with excitement. +</p> +<p> +"What a duffer!" Gus cried. "Why didn't he come down when it was cool?" +</p> +<p> +Hazard shook his head slowly, as if the question were too deep for +immediate answer and they had better defer judgment. +</p> +<p> +The flashes continued, and as the boys soon noted, at irregular +intervals of duration and disappearance. Now they were long, now short; +and again they came and went with great rapidity, or ceased altogether +for several moments at a time. +</p> +<p> +"I have it!" Hazard's face lighted up with the coming of understanding. +"I have it! That fellow up there is trying to talk to us. He's flashing +the sunlight down to us on a pocket-mirror—dot, dash; dot, dash; don't +you see?" +</p> +<p> +The light also began to break in Gus's face. "Ah, I know! It's what they +do in war-time—signaling. They call it heliographing, don't they? Same +thing as telegraphing, only it's done without wires. And they use the +same dots and dashes, too." +</p> +<p> +"Yes, the Morse alphabet. Wish I knew it." +</p> +<p> +"Same here. He surely must have something to say to us, or he wouldn't +be kicking up all that rumpus." +</p> +<p> +Still the flashes came and went persistently, till Gus exclaimed: "That +chap's in trouble, that's what's the matter with him! Most likely he's +hurt himself or something or other." +</p> +<p> +"Go on!" Hazard scouted. +</p> +<p> +Gus got out the shotgun and fired both barrels three times in rapid +succession. A perfect flutter of flashes came back before the echoes had +ceased their antics. So unmistakable was the message that even doubting +Hazard was convinced that the man who had forestalled them stood in some +grave danger. +</p> +<p> +"Quick, Gus," he cried, "and pack! I'll see to the horses. Our trip +hasn't come to nothing, after all. We've got to go right up Half Dome +and rescue him. Where's the map? How do we get to the Saddle?" +</p> +<p> +"'Taking the horse-trail below the Vernal Falls,'" Gus read from the +guide-book, "'one mile of brisk traveling brings the tourist to the +world-famed Nevada Fall. Close by, rising up in all its pomp and glory, +the Cap of Liberty stands guard——" +</p> +<p> +"Skip all that!" Hazard impatiently interrupted. "The trail's what we +want." +</p> +<p> +"Oh, here it is! 'Following the trail up the side of the fall will bring +you to the forks. The left one leads to Little Yosemite Valley, Cloud's +Rest, and other points.'" +</p> +<p> +"Hold on; that'll do! I've got it on the map now," again interrupted +Hazard. "From the Cloud's Rest trail a dotted line leads off to Half +Dome. That shows the trail's abandoned. We'll have to look sharp to find +it. It's a day's journey." +</p> +<p> +"And to think of all that traveling, when right here we're at the bottom +of the Dome!" Gus complained, staring up wistfully at the goal. +</p> +<p> +"That's because this is Yosemite, and all the more reason for us to +hurry. Come on! Be lively, now!" +</p> +<p> +Well used as they were to trail life, but few minutes sufficed to see +the camp equipage on the backs of the packhorses and the boys in the +saddle. In the late twilight of that evening they hobbled their animals +in a tiny mountain meadow, and cooked coffee and bacon for themselves at +the very base of the Saddle. Here, also, before they turned into their +blankets, they found the camp of the unlucky stranger who was destined +to spend the night on the naked roof of the Dome. +</p> +<p> +Dawn was brightening into day when the panting lads threw themselves +down at the summit of the Saddle and began taking off their shoes. +Looking down from the great height, they seemed perched upon the +ridgepole of the world, and even the snow-crowned Sierra peaks seemed +beneath them. Directly below, on the one hand, lay Little Yosemite +Valley, half a mile deep; on the other hand, Big Yosemite, a mile. +Already the sun's rays were striking about the adventurers, but the +darkness of night still shrouded the two great gulfs into which they +peered. And above them, bathed in the full day, rose only the majestic +curve of the Dome. +</p> +<p> +"What's that for?" Gus asked, pointing to a leather-shielded flask which +Hazard was securely fastening in his shirt pocket. +</p> +<p> +"Dutch courage, of course," was the reply. "We'll need all our nerve in +this undertaking, and a little bit more, and," he tapped the flask +significantly, "here's the little bit more." +</p> +<p> +"Good idea," Gus commented. +</p> +<p> +How they had ever come possessed of this erroneous idea, it would be +hard to discover; but they were young yet, and there remained for them +many uncut pages of life. Believers, also, in the efficacy of whisky as +a remedy for snake-bite, they had brought with them a fair supply of +medicine-chest liquor. As yet they had not touched it. +</p> +<p> +"Have some before we start?" Hazard asked. +</p> +<p> +Gus looked into the gulf and shook his head. "Better wait till we get up +higher and the climbing is more ticklish." +</p> +<p> +Some seventy feet above them projected the first eye-bolt. The winter +accumulations of ice had twisted and bent it down till it did not stand +more than a bare inch and a half above the rock—a most difficult object +to lasso as such a distance. Time and again Hazard coiled his lariat in +true cowboy fashion and made the cast, and time and again was he baffled +by the elusive peg. Nor could Gus do better. Taking advantage of +inequalities in the surface, they scrambled twenty feet up the Dome and +found they could rest in a shallow crevice. The cleft side of the Dome +was so near that they could look over its edge from the crevice and gaze +down the smooth, vertical wall for nearly two thousand feet. It was yet +too dark down below for them to see farther. +</p> +<p> +The peg was now fifty feet away, but the path they must cover to +get to it was quite smooth, and ran at an inclination of nearly fifty +degrees. It seemed impossible, in that intervening space, to find a +resting-place. Either the climber must keep going up, or he must slide +down; he could not stop. But just here rose the danger. The Dome was +sphere-shaped, and if he should begin to slide, his course would be, not +to the point from which he had started and where the Saddle would catch +him, but off to the south toward Little Yosemite. This meant a plunge of +half a mile. +</p> +<p> +"I'll try it," Gus said simply. +</p> +<p> +They knotted the two lariats together, so that they had over a hundred +feet of rope between them; and then each boy tied an end to his waist. +</p> +<p> +"If I slide," Gus cautioned, "come in on the slack and brace yourself. +If you don't, you'll follow me, that's all!" +</p> +<p> +"Ay, ay!" was the confident response. "Better take a nip before you +start?" +</p> +<p> +Gus glanced at the proffered bottle. He knew himself and of what he was +capable. "Wait till I make the peg and you join me. All ready?" +</p> +<p> +"Ay." +</p> +<p> +He struck out like a cat, on all fours, clawing energetically as he +urged his upward progress, his comrade paying out the rope carefully. At +first his speed was good, but gradually it dwindled. Now he was fifteen +feet from the peg, now ten, now eight—but going, oh, so slowly! Hazard, +looking up from his crevice, felt a contempt for him and disappointment +in him. It did look easy. Now Gus was five feet away, and after a +painful effort, four feet. But when only a yard intervened, he came to a +standstill—not exactly a standstill, for, like a squirrel in a wheel, +he maintained his position on the face of the Dome by the most desperate +clawing. +</p> +<p> +He had failed, that was evident. The question now was, how to save +himself. With a sudden, catlike movement he whirled over on his back, +caught his heel in a tiny, saucer-shaped depression and sat up. Then his +courage failed him. Day had at last penetrated to the floor of the +valley, and he was appalled at the frightful distance. +</p> +<p> +"Go ahead and make it!" Hazard ordered; but Gus merely shook his head. +</p> +<p> +"Then come down!" +</p> +<p> +Again he shook his head. This was his ordeal, to sit, nerveless and +insecure, on the brink of the precipice. But Hazard, lying safely in his +crevice, now had to face his own ordeal, but one of a different nature. +When Gus began to slide—as he soon must—would he, Hazard, be able to +take in the slack and then meet the shock as the other tautened the rope +and darted toward the plunge? It seemed doubtful. And there he lay, +apparently safe, but in reality harnessed to death. Then rose the +temptation. Why not cast off the rope about his waist? He would be safe +at all events. It was a simple way out of the difficulty. There was no +need that two should perish. But it was impossible for such temptation +to overcome his pride of race, and his own pride in himself and in his +honor. So the rope remained about him. +</p> +<p> +"Come down!" he ordered; but Gus seemed to have become petrified. +</p> +<p> +"Come down," he threatened, "or I'll drag you down!" He pulled on the +rope to show he was in earnest. +</p> +<p> +"Don't you dare!" Gus articulated through his clenched teeth. +</p> +<p> +"Sure, I will, if you don't come!" Again he jerked the rope. +</p> +<p> +With a despairing gurgle Gus started, doing his best to work sideways +from the plunge. Hazard, every sense on the alert, almost exulting in +his perfect coolness, took in the slack with deft rapidity. Then, as the +rope began to tighten, he braced himself. The shock drew him half out of +the crevice; but he held firm and served as the center of the circle, +while Gus, with the rope as a radius, described the circumference and +ended up on the extreme southern edge of the Saddle. A few moments later +Hazard was offering him the flask. +</p> +<p> +"Take some yourself," Gus said. +</p> +<p> +"No; you. I don't need it." +</p> +<p> +"And I'm past needing it." Evidently Gus was dubious of the bottle and +its contents. +</p> +<p> +Hazard put it away in his pocket. "Are you game," he asked, "or are you +going to give it up?" +</p> +<p> +"Never!" Gus protested. "I <i>am</i> game. No Lafee ever showed the +white feather yet. And if I did lose my grit up there, it was only for +the moment—sort of like seasickness. I'm all right now, and I'm going +to the top." +</p> +<p> +"Good!" encouraged Hazard. "You lie in the crevice this time, and I'll +show you how easy it is." +</p> +<p> +But Gus refused. He held that it was easier and safer for him to try +again, arguing that it was less difficult for his one hundred and +sixteen pounds to cling to the smooth rock than for Hazard's one hundred +and sixty-five; also that it was easier for one hundred and sixty-five +pounds to bring a sliding one hundred and sixteen to a stop than <i>vice +versa</i>. And further, that he had the benefit of his previous +experience. Hazard saw the justice of this, although it was with great +reluctance that he gave in. +</p> +<p> +Success vindicated Gus's contention. The second time, just as it seemed +as if his slide would be repeated, he made a last supreme effort and +gripped the coveted peg. By means of the rope, Hazard quickly joined +him. The next peg was nearly sixty feet away; but for nearly half that +distance the base of some glacier in the forgotten past had ground a +shallow furrow. Taking advantage of this, it was easy for Gus to lasso +the eye-bolt. And it seemed, as was really the case, that the hardest +part of the task was over. True, the curve steepened to nearly sixty +degrees above them, but a comparatively unbroken line of eye-bolts, six +feet apart, awaited the lads. They no longer had even to use the lasso. +Standing on one peg it was child's play to throw the bight of the rope +over the next and to draw themselves up to it. +</p> +<p> +A bronzed and bearded man met them at the top and gripped their hands in +hearty fellowship. +</p> +<p> +"Talk about your Mont Blancs!" he exclaimed, pausing in the midst of +greeting them to survey the mighty panorama. "But there's nothing on all +the earth, nor over it, nor under it, to compare with this!" Then he +recollected himself and thanked them for coming to his aid. No, he was +not hurt or injured in any way. Simply because of his own carelessness, +just as he had arrived at the top the previous day, he had dropped his +climbing rope. Of course it was impossible to descend without it. Did +they understand heliographing? No? That was strange! How did they—— +</p> +<p> +"Oh, we knew something was the matter," Gus interrupted, "from the way +you flashed when we fired off the shotgun." +</p> +<p> +"Find it pretty cold last night without blankets?" Hazard queried. +</p> +<p> +"I should say so. I've hardly thawed out yet." +</p> +<p> +"Have some of this." Hazard shoved the flask over to him. +</p> +<p> +The stranger regarded him quite seriously for a moment, then said, +"My dear fellow, do you see that row of pegs? Since it is my honest +intention to climb down them very shortly, I am forced to decline. +No, I don't think I'll have any, though I thank you just the same." +</p> +<p> +Hazard glanced at Gus and then put the flask back in his pocket. But +when they pulled the doubled rope through the last eye-bolt and set foot +on the Saddle, he again drew out the bottle. +</p> +<p> +"Now that we're down, we don't need it," he remarked, pithily. "And I've +about come to the conclusion that there isn't very much in Dutch +courage, after all." He gazed up the great curve of the Dome. "Look at +what we've done without it!" +</p> +<p> +Several seconds thereafter a party of tourists, gathered at the margin +of Mirror Lake, were astounded at the unwonted phenomenon of a whisky +flask descending upon them like a comet out of a clear sky; and all the +way back to the hotel they marveled greatly at the wonders of nature, +especially meteorites. +</p> +<a name="h2H_4_0004" id="h2H_4_0004"><!-- H2 anchor --></a> + +<div style="height: 4em;"><br /><br /><br /><br /></div> + +<h2> + TYPHOON OFF THE COAST OF JAPAN +</h2> +<center> + <i>Jack London's first story, published at the age of seventeen</i> +</center> +<p> +It was four bells in the morning watch. We had just finished breakfast +when the order came forward for the watch on deck to stand by to heave +her to and all hands stand by the boats. +</p> +<p> +"Port! hard a port!" cried our sailing-master. "Clew up the topsails! +Let the flying jib run down! Back the jib over to windward and run down +the foresail!" And so was our schooner <i>Sophie Sutherland</i> hove to +off the Japan coast, near Cape Jerimo, on April 10, 1893. +</p> +<p> +Then came moments of bustle and confusion. There were eighteen men to +man the six boats. Some were hooking on the falls, others casting off +the lashings; boat-steerers appeared with boat-compasses and +water-breakers, and boat-pullers with the lunch boxes. Hunters were +staggering under two or three shotguns, a rifle and heavy ammunition +box, all of which were soon stowed away with their oilskins and mittens +in the boats. +</p> +<p> +The sailing-master gave his last orders, and away we went, pulling three +pairs of oars to gain our positions. We were in the weather boat, and so +had a longer pull than the others. The first, second, and third lee +boats soon had all sail set and were running off to the southward and +westward with the wind beam, while the schooner was running off to +leeward of them, so that in case of accident the boats would have fair +wind home. +</p> +<p> +It was a glorious morning, but our boat-steerer shook his head ominously +as he glanced at the rising sun and prophetically muttered: "Red sun in +the morning, sailor take warning." The sun had an angry look, and a few +light, fleecy "nigger-heads" in that quarter seemed abashed and +frightened and soon disappeared. +</p> +<p> +Away off to the northward Cape Jerimo reared its black, forbidding head +like some huge monster rising from the deep. The winter's snow, not yet +entirely dissipated by the sun, covered it in patches of glistening +white, over which the light wind swept on its way out to sea. Huge gulls +rose slowly, fluttering their wings in the light breeze and striking +their webbed feet on the surface of the water for over half a mile +before they could leave it. Hardly had the patter, patter died away +when a flock of sea quail rose, and with whistling wings flew away +to windward, where members of a large band of whales were disporting +themselves, their blowings sounding like the exhaust of steam engines. +The harsh, discordant cries of a sea-parrot grated unpleasantly on the +ear, and set half a dozen alert in a small band of seals that were ahead +of us. Away they went, breaching and jumping entirely out of water. A +sea-gull with slow, deliberate flight and long, majestic curves circled +round us, and as a reminder of home a little English sparrow perched +impudently on the fo'castle head, and, cocking his head on one side, +chirped merrily. The boats were soon among the seals, and the bang! +bang! of the guns could be heard from down to leeward. +</p> +<p> +The wind was slowly rising, and by three o'clock as, with a dozen seals +in our boat, we were deliberating whether to go on or turn back, the +recall flag was run up at the schooner's mizzen—a sure sign that with +the rising wind the barometer was falling and that our sailing-master +was getting anxious for the welfare of the boats. +</p> +<p> +Away we went before the wind with a single reef in our sail. With +clenched teeth sat the boat-steerer, grasping the steering oar firmly +with both hands, his restless eyes on the alert—a glance at the +schooner ahead, as we rose on a sea, another at the mainsheet, and then +one astern where the dark ripple of the wind on the water told him of a +coming puff or a large white-cap that threatened to overwhelm us. The +waves were holding high carnival, performing the strangest antics, as +with wild glee they danced along in fierce pursuit—now up, now down, +here, there, and everywhere, until some great sea of liquid green with +its milk-white crest of foam rose from the ocean's throbbing bosom and +drove the others from view. But only for a moment, for again under new +forms they reappeared. In the sun's path they wandered, where every +ripple, great or small, every little spit or spray looked like molten +silver, where the water lost its dark green color and became a dazzling, +silvery flood, only to vanish and become a wild waste of sullen +turbulence, each dark foreboding sea rising and breaking, then rolling +on again. The dash, the sparkle, the silvery light soon vanished with +the sun, which became obscured by black clouds that were rolling swiftly +in from the west, northwest; apt heralds of the coming storm. +</p> +<p> +We soon reached the schooner and found ourselves the last aboard. +In a few minutes the seals were skinned, boats and decks washed, and +we were down below by the roaring fo'castle fire, with a wash, change +of clothes, and a hot, substantial supper before us. Sail had been put +on the schooner, as we had a run of seventy-five miles to make to the +southward before morning, so as to get in the midst of the seals, out +of which we had strayed during the last two days' hunting. +</p> +<p> +We had the first watch from eight to midnight. The wind was soon blowing +half a gale, and our sailing-master expected little sleep that night as +he paced up and down the poop. The topsails were soon clewed up and made +fast, then the flying jib run down and furled. Quite a sea was rolling +by this time, occasionally breaking over the decks, flooding them and +threatening to smash the boats. At six bells we were ordered to turn +them over and put on storm lashings. This occupied us till eight bells, +when we were relieved by the mid-watch. I was the last to go below, +doing so just as the watch on deck was furling the spanker. Below all +were asleep except our green hand, the "bricklayer," who was dying of +consumption. The wildly dancing movements of the sea lamp cast a pale, +flickering light through the fo'castle and turned to golden honey the +drops of water on the yellow oilskins. In all the corners dark shadows +seemed to come and go, while up in the eyes of her, beyond the pall +bits, descending from deck to deck, where they seemed to lurk like some +dragon at the cavern's mouth, it was dark as Erebus. Now and again, the +light seemed to penetrate for a moment as the schooner rolled heavier +than usual, only to recede, leaving it darker and blacker than before. +The roar of the wind through the rigging came to the ear muffled like +the distant rumble of a train crossing a trestle or the surf on the +beach, while the loud crash of the seas on her weather bow seemed almost +to rend the beams and planking asunder as it resounded through the +fo'castle. The creaking and groaning of the timbers, stanchions, and +bulkheads, as the strain the vessel was undergoing was felt, served to +drown the groans of the dying man as he tossed uneasily in his bunk. +The working of the foremast against the deck beams caused a shower of +flaky powder to fall, and sent another sound mingling with the tumultous +storm. Small cascades of water streamed from the pall bits from the +fo'castle head above, and, joining issue with the streams from the wet +oilskins, ran along the floor and disappeared aft into the main hold. +</p> +<p> +At two bells in the middle watch—that is, in land parlance one o'clock +in the morning—the order was roared out on the fo'castle: "All hands on +deck and shorten sail!" +</p> +<p> +Then the sleepy sailors tumbled out of their bunk and into their +clothes, oil-skins, and sea-boots and up on deck. 'Tis when that order +comes on cold, blustering nights that "Jack" grimly mutters: "Who would +not sell a farm and go to sea?" +</p> +<p> +It was on deck that the force of the wind could be fully appreciated, +especially after leaving the stifling fo'castle. It seemed to stand +up against you like a wall, making it almost impossible to move on +the heaving decks or to breathe as the fierce gusts came dashing by. +The schooner was hove to under jib, foresail, and mainsail. We proceeded +to lower the foresail and make it fast. The night was dark, greatly +impeding our labor. Still, though not a star or the moon could pierce +the black masses of storm clouds that obscured the sky as they swept +along before the gale, nature aided us in a measure. A soft light +emanated from the movement of the ocean. Each mighty sea, all +phosphorescent and glowing with the tiny lights of myriads of +animalculæ, threatened to overwhelm us with a deluge of fire. Higher and +higher, thinner and thinner, the crest grew as it began to curve and +overtop preparatory to breaking, until with a roar it fell over the +bulwarks, a mass of soft glowing light and tons of water which sent the +sailors sprawling in all directions and left in each nook and cranny +little specks of light that glowed and trembled till the next sea washed +them away, depositing new ones in their places. Sometimes several seas +following each other with great rapidity and thundering down on our +decks filled them full to the bulwarks, but soon they were discharged +through the lee scuppers. +</p> +<p> +To reef the mainsail we were forced to run off before the gale under the +single reefed jib. By the time we had finished the wind had forced up +such a tremendous sea that it was impossible to heave her to. Away we +flew on the wings of the storm through the muck and flying spray. A wind +sheer to starboard, then another to port as the enormous seas struck the +schooner astern and nearly broached her to. As day broke we took in the +jib, leaving not a sail unfurled. Since we had begun scudding she had +ceased to take the seas over her bow, but amidships they broke fast +and furious. It was a dry storm in the matter of rain, but the force +of the wind filled the air with fine spray, which flew as high as the +crosstrees and cut the face like a knife, making it impossible to see +over a hundred yards ahead. The sea was a dark lead color as with long, +slow, majestic roll it was heaped up by the wind into liquid mountains +of foam. The wild antics of the schooner were sickening as she forged +along. She would almost stop, as though climbing a mountain, then +rapidly rolling to right and left as she gained the summit of a huge +sea, she steadied herself and paused for a moment as though affrighted +at the yawning precipice before her. Like an avalanche, she shot forward +and down as the sea astern struck her with the force of a thousand +battering rams, burying her bow to the catheads in the milky foam at the +bottom that came on deck in all directions—forward, astern, to right +and left, through the hawse-pipes and over the rail. +</p> +<p> +The wind began to drop, and by ten o'clock we were talking of heaving +her to. We passed a ship, two schooners, and a four-masted barkentine +under the smallest of canvas, and at eleven o'clock, running up the +spanker and jib, we hove her to, and in another hour we were beating +back again against the aftersea under full sail to regain the sealing +ground away to the westward. +</p> +<p> +Below, a couple of men were sewing the "bricklayer's" body in canvas +preparatory to the sea burial. And so with the storm passed away the +"bricklayer's" soul. +</p> +<a name="h2H_4_0005" id="h2H_4_0005"><!-- H2 anchor --></a> + +<div style="height: 4em;"><br /><br /><br /><br /></div> + +<h2> + THE LOST POACHER +</h2> +<p> +"But they won't take excuses. You're across the line, and that's enough. +They'll take you. In you go, Siberia and the salt-mines. And as for +Uncle Sam, why, what's he to know about it? Never a word will get back +to the States. 'The <i>Mary Thomas</i>,' the papers will say, 'the +<i>Mary Thomas</i> lost with all hands. Probably in a typhoon in the +Japanese seas.' That's what the papers will say, and people, too. In you +go, Siberia and the salt-mines. Dead to the world and kith and kin, +though you live fifty years." +</p> +<p> +In such manner John Lewis, commonly known as the "sea-lawyer," settled +the matter out of hand. +</p> +<p> +It was a serious moment in the forecastle of the <i>Mary Thomas</i>. No +sooner had the watch below begun to talk the trouble over, than the +watch on deck came down and joined them. As there was no wind, every +hand could be spared with the exception of the man at the wheel, and he +remained only for the sake of discipline. Even "Bub" Russell, the +cabin-boy, had crept forward to hear what was going on. +</p> +<p> +However, it was a serious moment, as the grave faces of the sailors bore +witness. For the three preceding months the <i>Mary Thomas</i> sealing +schooner, had hunted the seal pack along the coast of Japan and north to +Bering Sea. Here, on the Asiatic side of the sea, they were forced to +give over the chase, or rather, to go no farther; for beyond, the +Russian cruisers patrolled forbidden ground, where the seals might breed +in peace. +</p> +<p> +A week before she had fallen into a heavy fog accompanied by calm. Since +then the fog-bank had not lifted, and the only wind had been light airs +and catspaws. This in itself was not so bad, for the sealing schooners +are never in a hurry so long as they are in the midst of the seals; but +the trouble lay in the fact that the current at this point bore heavily +to the north. Thus the <i>Mary Thomas</i> had unwittingly drifted across +the line, and every hour she was penetrating, unwillingly, farther and +farther into the dangerous waters where the Russian bear kept guard. +</p> +<p> +How far she had drifted no man knew. The sun had not been visible +for a week, nor the stars, and the captain had been unable to take +observations in order to determine his position. At any moment a cruiser +might swoop down and hale the crew away to Siberia. The fate of other +poaching seal-hunters was too well known to the men of the <i>Mary +Thomas</i>, and there was cause for grave faces. +</p> +<p> +"Mine friends," spoke up a German boat-steerer, "it vas a pad piziness. +Shust as ve make a big catch, und all honest, somedings go wrong, und +der Russians nab us, dake our skins and our schooner, und send us mit +der anarchists to Siberia. Ach! a pretty pad piziness!" +</p> +<p> +"Yes, that's where it hurts," the sea lawyer went on. "Fifteen hundred +skins in the salt piles, and all honest, a big pay-day coming to every +man Jack of us, and then to be captured and lose it all! It'd be +different if we'd been poaching, but it's all honest work in open +water." +</p> +<p> +"But if we haven't done anything wrong, they can't do anything to us, +can they?" Bub queried. +</p> +<p> +"It strikes me as 'ow it ain't the proper thing for a boy o' your age +shovin' in when 'is elders is talkin'," protested an English sailor, +from over the edge of his bunk. +</p> +<p> +"Oh, that's all right, Jack," answered the sea-lawyer. "He's a perfect +right to. Ain't he just as liable to lose his wages as the rest of us?" +</p> +<p> +"Wouldn't give thruppence for them!" Jack sniffed back. He had been +planning to go home and see his family in Chelsea when he was paid off, +and he was now feeling rather blue over the highly possible loss, not +only of his pay, but of his liberty. +</p> +<p> +"How are they to know?" the sea-lawyer asked in answer to Bub's previous +question. "Here we are in forbidden water. How do they know but what we +came here of our own accord? Here we are, fifteen hundred skins in the +hold. How do they, know whether we got them in open water or in the +closed sea? Don't you see, Bub, the evidence is all against us. If you +caught a man with his pockets full of apples like those which grow on +your tree, and if you caught him in your tree besides, what'd you think +if he told you he couldn't help it, and had just been sort of blown +there, and that anyway those apples came from some other tree—what'd +you think, eh?" +</p> +<p> +Bub saw it clearly when put in that light, and shook his head +despondently. +</p> +<p> +"You'd rather be dead than go to Siberia," one of the boat-pullers said. +"They put you into the salt-mines and work you till you die. Never see +daylight again. Why, I've heard tell of one fellow that was chained to +his mate, and that mate died. And they were both chained together! And +if they send you to the quicksilver mines you get salivated. I'd rather +be hung than salivated." +</p> +<p> +"Wot's salivated?" Jack asked, suddenly sitting up in his bunk at the +hint of fresh misfortunes. +</p> +<p> +"Why, the quicksilver gets into your blood; I think that's the way. And +your gums all swell like you had the scurvy, only worse, and your teeth +get loose in your jaws. And big ulcers form, and then you die horrible. +The strongest man can't last long a-mining quicksilver." +</p> +<p> +"A pad piziness," the boat-steerer reiterated, dolorously, in the +silence which followed. "A pad piziness. I vish I was in Yokohama. Eh? +Vot vas dot?" +</p> +<p> +The vessel had suddenly heeled over. The decks were aslant. A tin +pannikin rolled down the inclined plane, rattling and banging. From +above came the slapping of canvas and the quivering rat-tat-tat of the +after leech of the loosely stretched foresail. Then the mate's voice +sang down the hatch, "All hands on deck and make sail!" +</p> +<p> +Never had such summons been answered with more enthusiasm. The calm had +broken. The wind had come which was to carry them south into safety. +With a wild cheer all sprang on deck. Working with mad haste, they flung +out topsails, flying jibs and stay-sails. As they worked, the fog-bank +lifted and the black vault of heaven, bespangled with the old familiar +stars, rushed into view. When all was ship-shape, the <i>Mary Thomas</i> +was lying gallantly over on her side to a beam wind and plunging ahead +due south. +</p> +<p> +"Steamer's lights ahead on the port bow, sir!" cried the lookout from +his station on the forecastle-head. There was excitement in the man's +voice. +</p> +<p> +The captain sent Bub below for his night-glasses. Everybody crowded to +the lee-rail to gaze at the suspicious stranger, which already began to +loom up vague and indistinct. In those unfrequented waters the chance +was one in a thousand that it could be anything else than a Russian +patrol. The captain was still anxiously gazing through the glasses, when +a flash of flame left the stranger's side, followed by the loud report +of a cannon. The worst fears were confirmed. It was a patrol, evidently +firing across the bows of the <i>Mary Thomas</i> in order to make her +heave to. +</p> +<p> +"Hard down with your helm!" the captain commanded the steers-man, all +the life gone out of his voice. Then to the crew, "Back over the jib and +foresail! Run down the flying jib! Clew up the foretopsail! And aft here +and swing on to the main-sheet!" +</p> +<p> +The <i>Mary Thomas</i> ran into the eye of the wind, lost headway, and +fell to courtesying gravely to the long seas rolling up from the west. +</p> +<p> +The cruiser steamed a little nearer and lowered a boat. The sealers +watched in heartbroken silence. They could see the white bulk of the +boat as it was slacked away to the water, and its crew sliding aboard. +They could hear the creaking of the davits and the commands of the +officers. Then the boat sprang away under the impulse of the oars, and +came toward them. The wind had been rising, and already the sea was too +rough to permit the frail craft to lie alongside the tossing schooner; +but watching their chance, and taking advantage of the boarding ropes +thrown to them, an officer and a couple of men clambered aboard. +The boat then sheered off into safety and lay to its oars, a young +midshipman, sitting in the stern and holding the yoke-lines, in charge. +</p> +<p> +The officer, whose uniform disclosed his rank as that of second +lieutenant in the Russian navy, went below with the captain of the +<i>Mary Thomas</i> to look at the ship's papers. A few minutes later he +emerged, and upon his sailors removing the hatch-covers, passed down +into the hold with a lantern to inspect the salt piles. It was a goodly +heap which confronted him—fifteen hundred fresh skins, the season's +catch; and under the circumstances he could have had but one conclusion. +</p> +<p> +"I am very sorry," he said, in broken English to the sealing captain, +when he again came on deck, "but it is my duty, in the name of the tsar, +to seize your vessel as a poacher caught with fresh skins in the closed +sea. The penalty, as you may know, is confiscation and imprisonment." +</p> +<p> +The captain of the <i>Mary Thomas</i> shrugged his shoulders in seeming +indifference, and turned away. Although they may restrain all outward +show, strong men, under unmerited misfortune, are sometimes very close +to tears. Just then the vision of his little California home, and of the +wife and two yellow-haired boys, was strong upon him, and there was a +strange, choking sensation in his throat, which made him afraid that if +he attempted to speak he would sob instead. +</p> +<p> +And also there was upon him the duty he owed his men. No weakness before +them, for he must be a tower of strength to sustain them in misfortune. +He had already explained to the second lieutenant, and knew the +hopelessness of the situation. As the sea-lawyer had said, the evidence +was all against him. So he turned aft, and fell to pacing up and down +the poop of the vessel over which he was no longer commander. +</p> +<p> +The Russian officer now took temporary charge. He ordered more of his +men aboard, and had all the canvas clewed up and furled snugly away. +While this was being done, the boat plied back and forth between the +two vessels, passing a heavy hawser, which was made fast to the great +towing-bitts on the schooner's forecastle-head. During all this work +the sealers stood about in sullen groups. It was madness to think of +resisting, with the guns of a man-of-war not a biscuit-toss away; but +they refused to lend a hand, preferring instead to maintain a gloomy +silence. +</p> +<p> +Having accomplished his task, the lieutenant ordered all but four of his +men back into the boat. Then the midshipman, a lad of sixteen, looking +strangely mature and dignified in his uniform and sword, came aboard to +take command of the captured sealer. Just as the lieutenant prepared to +depart, his eyes chanced to alight upon Bub. Without a word of warning, +he seized him by the arm and dropped him over the rail into the waiting +boat; and then, with a parting wave of his hand, he followed him. +</p> +<p> +It was only natural that Bub should be frightened at this unexpected +happening. All the terrible stories he had heard of the Russians served +to make him fear them, and now returned to his mind with double force. +To be captured by them was bad enough, but to be carried off by them, +away from his comrades, was a fate of which he had not dreamed. +</p> +<p> +"Be a good boy, Bub," the captain called to him, as the boat drew away +from the <i>Mary Thomas</i>'s side, "and tell the truth!" +</p> +<p> +"Aye, aye, sir!" he answered, bravely enough, by all outward appearance. +He felt a certain pride of race, and was ashamed to be a coward before +these strange enemies, these wild Russian bears. +</p> +<p> +"Und be politeful!" the German boat-steerer added, his rough voice +lifting across the water like a fog-horn. +</p> +<p> +Bub waved his hand in farewell, and his mates clustered along the +rail as they answered with a cheering shout. He found room in the +stern-sheets, where he fell to regarding the lieutenant. He didn't look +so wild or bearish, after all—very much like other men, Bub concluded, +and the sailors were much the same as all other man-of-war's men he had +ever known. Nevertheless, as his feet struck the steel deck of the +cruiser, he felt as if he had entered the portals of a prison. +</p> +<p> +For a few minutes he was left unheeded. The sailors hoisted the boat up, +and swung it in on the davits. Then great clouds of black smoke poured +out of the funnels, and they were under way—to Siberia, Bub could not +help but think. He saw the <i>Mary Thomas</i> swing abruptly into line +as she took the pressure from the hawser, and her side-lights, red and +green, rose and fell as she was towed through the sea. +</p> +<p> +Bub's eyes dimmed at the melancholy sight, but—but just then the +lieutenant came to take him down to the commander, and he straightened +up and set his lips firmly, as if this were a very commonplace affair +and he were used to being sent to Siberia every day in the week. The +cabin in which the commander sat was like a palace compared to the +humble fittings of the <i>Mary Thomas</i>, and the commander himself, in +gold lace and dignity, was a most august personage, quite unlike the +simple man who navigated his schooner on the trail of the seal pack. +</p> +<p> +Bub now quickly learned why he had been brought aboard, and in the +prolonged questioning which followed, told nothing but the plain truth. +The truth was harmless; only a lie could have injured his cause. He did +not know much, except that they had been sealing far to the south in +open water, and that when the calm and fog came down upon them, being +close to the line, they had drifted across. Again and again he insisted +that they had not lowered a boat or shot a seal in the week they had +been drifting about in the forbidden sea; but the commander chose to +consider all that he said to be a tissue of falsehoods, and adopted a +bullying tone in an effort to frighten the boy. He threatened and +cajoled by turns, but failed in the slightest to shake Bub's statements, +and at last ordered him out of his presence. +</p> +<p> +By some oversight, Bub was not put in anybody's charge, and wandered up +on deck unobserved. Sometimes the sailors, in passing, bent curious +glances upon him, but otherwise he was left strictly alone. Nor could he +have attracted much attention, for he was small, the night dark, and the +watch on deck intent on its own business. Stumbling over the strange +decks, he made his way aft where he could look upon the side-lights of +the <i>Mary Thomas</i>, following steadily in the rear. +</p> +<p> +For a long while he watched, and then lay down in the darkness close to +where the hawser passed over the stern to the captured schooner. Once +an officer came up and examined the straining rope to see if it were +chafing, but Bub cowered away in the shadow undiscovered. This, however, +gave him an idea which concerned the lives and liberties of twenty-two +men, and which was to avert crushing sorrow from more than one happy +home many thousand miles away. +</p> +<p> +In the first place, he reasoned, the crew were all guiltless of any +crime, and yet were being carried relentlessly away to imprisonment in +Siberia—a living death, he had heard, and he believed it implicitly. +In the second place, he was a prisoner, hard and fast, with no chance +of escape. In the third, it was possible for the twenty-two men on the +<i>Mary Thomas</i> to escape. The only thing which bound them was a +four-inch hawser. They dared not cut it at their end, for a watch was +sure to be maintained upon it by their Russian captors; but at this end, +ah! at his end—— +</p> +<p> +Bub did not stop to reason further. Wriggling close to the hawser, he +opened his jack-knife and went to work, The blade was not very sharp, +and he sawed away, rope-yarn by rope-yarn, the awful picture of the +solitary Siberian exile he must endure growing clearer and more terrible +at every stroke. Such a fate was bad enough to undergo with one's +comrades, but to face it alone seemed frightful. And besides, the very +act he was performing was sure to bring greater punishment upon him. +</p> +<p> +In the midst of such somber thoughts, he heard footsteps approaching. +He wriggled away into the shadow. An officer stopped where he had been +working, half-stooped to examine the hawser, then changed his mind and +straightened up. For a few minutes he stood there, gazing at the lights +of the captured schooner, and then went forward again. +</p> +<p> +Now was the time! Bub crept back and went on sawing. Now two parts were +severed. Now three. But one remained. The tension upon this was so great +that it readily yielded. Splash! The freed end went overboard. He lay +quietly, his heart in his mouth, listening. No one on the cruiser but +himself had heard. +</p> +<p> +He saw the red and green lights of the <i>Mary Thomas</i> grow dimmer +and dimmer. Then a faint hallo came over the water from the Russian +prize crew. Still nobody heard. The smoke continued to pour out of the +cruiser's funnels, and her propellers throbbed as mightily as ever. +</p> +<p> +What was happening on the <i>Mary Thomas</i>? Bub could only surmise; +but of one thing he was certain: his comrades would assert themselves +and overpower the four sailors and the midshipman. A few minutes later +he saw a small flash, and straining his ears heard the very faint report +of a pistol. Then, oh joy! both the red and green lights suddenly +disappeared. The <i>Mary Thomas</i> was retaken! +</p> +<p> +Just as an officer came aft, Bub crept forward, and hid away in +one of the boats. Not an instant too soon. The alarm was given. Loud +voices rose in command. The cruiser altered her course. An electric +search-light began to throw its white rays across the sea, here, there, +everywhere; but in its flashing path no tossing schooner was revealed. +</p> +<p> +Bub went to sleep soon after that, nor did he wake till the gray of +dawn. The engines were pulsing monotonously, and the water, splashing +noisily, told him the decks were being washed down. One sweeping glance, +and he saw that they were alone on the expanse of ocean. The <i>Mary +Thomas</i> had escaped. As he lifted his head, a roar of laughter went +up from the sailors. Even the officer, who ordered him taken below and +locked up, could not quite conceal the laughter in his eyes. Bub thought +often in the days of confinement which followed, that they were not very +angry with him for what he had done. +</p> +<p> +He was not far from right. There is a certain innate nobility deep down +in the hearts of all men, which forces them to admire a brave act, even +if it is performed by an enemy. The Russians were in nowise different +from other men. True, a boy had outwitted them; but they could not blame +him, and they were sore puzzled as to what to do with him. It would +never do to take a little mite like him in to represent all that +remained of the lost poacher. +</p> +<p> +So, two weeks later, a United States man-of-war, steaming out of the +Russian port of Vladivostok, was signaled by a Russian cruiser. A boat +passed between the two ships, and a small boy dropped over the rail upon +the deck of the American vessel. A week later he was put ashore at +Hakodate, and after some telegraphing, his fare was paid on the railroad +to Yokohama. +</p> +<p> +From the depot he hurried through the quaint Japanese streets to the +harbor, and hired a <i>sampan</i> boatman to put him aboard a certain +vessel whose familiar rigging had quickly caught his eye. Her gaskets +were off, her sails unfurled; she was just starting back to the United +States. As he came closer, a crowd of sailors sprang upon the forecastle +head, and the windlass-bars rose and fell as the anchor was torn from +its muddy bottom. +</p> +<p> +"'Yankee ship come down the ribber!'" the sea-lawyer's voice rolled out +as he led the anchor song. +</p> +<p> +"'Pull, my bully boys, pull!'" roared back the old familiar chorus, the +men's bodies lifting and bending to the rhythm. +</p> +<p> +Bub Russell paid the boatman and stepped on deck. The anchor was +forgotten. A mighty cheer went up from the men, and almost before he +could catch his breath he was on the shoulders of the captain, +surrounded by his mates, and endeavoring to answer twenty questions to +the second. +</p> +<p> +The next day a schooner hove to off a Japanese fishing village, sent +ashore four sailors and a little midshipman, and sailed away. These men +did not talk English, but they had money and quickly made their way to +Yokohama. From that day the Japanese village folk never heard anything +more about them, and they are still a much-talked-of mystery. As the +Russian government never said anything about the incident, the United +States is still ignorant of the whereabouts of the lost poacher, nor has +she ever heard, officially, of the way in which some of her citizens +"shanghaied" five subjects of the tsar. Even nations have secrets +sometimes. +</p> +<a name="h2H_4_0006" id="h2H_4_0006"><!-- H2 anchor --></a> + +<div style="height: 4em;"><br /><br /><br /><br /></div> + +<h2> + THE BANKS OF THE SACRAMENTO +</h2> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i2"> "And it's blow, ye winds, heigh-ho, + </p> +<p class="i2"> For Cal-i-for-ni-o; + </p> +<p class="i2"> For there's plenty of gold so I've been told, + </p> +<p class="i2"> On the banks of the Sacramento!" + </p> +</div> +</div> + +<p> +It was only a little boy, singing in a shrill treble the sea chantey +which seamen sing the wide world over when they man the capstan bars and +break the anchors out for "Frisco" port. It was only a little boy who +had never seen the sea, but two hundred feet beneath him rolled the +Sacramento. "Young" Jerry he was called, after "Old" Jerry, his father, +from whom he had learned the song, as well as received his shock of +bright-red hair, his blue, dancing eyes, and his fair and inevitably +freckled skin. +</p> +<p> +For Old Jerry had been a sailor, and had followed the sea till middle +life, haunted always by the words of the ringing chantey. Then one day +he had sung the song in earnest, in an Asiatic port, swinging and +thrilling round the capstan-circle with twenty others. And at San +Francisco he turned his back upon his ship and upon the sea, and went +to behold with his own eyes the banks of the Sacramento. +</p> +<p> +He beheld the gold, too, for he found employment at the Yellow Dream +mine, and proved of utmost usefulness in rigging the great ore-cables +across the river and two hundred feet above its surface. +</p> +<p> +After that he took charge of the cables and kept them in repair, and ran +them and loved them, and became himself an indispensable fixture of the +Yellow Dream mine. Then he loved pretty Margaret Kelly; but she had left +him and Young Jerry, the latter barely toddling, to take up her last +long sleep in the little graveyard among the great sober pines. +</p> +<p> +Old Jerry never went back to the sea. He remained by his cables, and +lavished upon them and Young Jerry all the love of his nature. When evil +days came to the Yellow-Dream, he still remained in the employ of the +company as watchman over the all but abandoned property. +</p> +<p> +But this morning he was not visible. Young Jerry only was to be seen, +sitting on the cabin step and singing the ancient chantey. He had cooked +and eaten his breakfast all by himself, and had just come out to take a +look at the world. Twenty feet before him stood the steel drum round +which the endless cable worked. By the drum, snug and fast, was the +ore-car. Following with his eyes the dizzy flight of the cables to the +farther bank, he could see the other drum and the other car. +</p> +<p> +The contrivance was worked by gravity, the loaded car crossing the river +by virtue of its own weight, and at the same time dragging the empty car +back. The loaded car being emptied, and the empty car being loaded with +more ore, the performance could be repeated—a performance which had +been repeated tens of thousands of times since the day Old Jerry became +the keeper of the cables. +</p> +<p> +Young Jerry broke off his song at the sound of approaching footsteps, A +tall, blue-shirted man, a rifle across the hollow of his arm, came out +from the gloom of the pine-trees. It was Hall, watchman of the Yellow +Dragon mine, the cables of which spanned the Sacramento a mile farther +up. +</p> +<p> +"Hello, younker!" was his greeting. "What you doin' here by your +lonesome?" +</p> +<p> +"Oh, bachin'," Jerry tried to answer unconcernedly, as if it were a very +ordinary sort of thing. "Dad's away, you see." +</p> +<p> +"Where's he gone?" the man asked. +</p> +<p> +"San Francisco. Went last night. His brother's dead in the old country, +and he's gone down to see the lawyers. Won't be back till tomorrow +night." +</p> +<p> +So spoke Jerry, and with pride, because of the responsibility which had +fallen to him of keeping an eye on the property of the Yellow Dream, and +the glorious adventure of living alone on the cliff above the river and +of cooking his own meals. +</p> +<p> +"Well, take care of yourself," Hall said, "and don't monkey with the +cables. I'm goin' to see if I can't pick up a deer in the Cripple Cow +Cañon." +</p> +<p> +"It's goin' to rain, I think," Jerry said, with mature deliberation. +</p> +<p> +"And it's little I mind a wettin'," Hall laughed, as he strode away +among the trees. +</p> +<p> +Jerry's prediction concerning rain was more than fulfilled. By ten +o'clock the pines were swaying and moaning, the cabin windows rattling, +and the rain driving by in fierce squalls. At half past eleven he +kindled a fire, and promptly at the stroke of twelve sat down to his +dinner. +</p> +<p> +No out-of-doors for him that day, he decided, when he had washed the few +dishes and put them neatly away; and he wondered how wet Hall was and +whether he had succeeded in picking up a deer. +</p> +<p> +At one o'clock there came a knock at the door, and when he opened it a +man and a woman staggered in on the breast of a great gust of wind. They +were Mr. and Mrs. Spillane, ranchers, who lived in a lonely valley a +dozen miles back from the river. +</p> +<p> +"Where's Hall?" was Spillane's opening speech, and he spoke sharply and +quickly. +</p> +<p> +Jerry noted that he was nervous and abrupt in his movements, and that +Mrs. Spillane seemed laboring under some strong anxiety. She was a thin, +washed-out, worked-out woman, whose life of dreary and unending toil had +stamped itself harshly upon her face. It was the same life that had +bowed her husband's shoulders and gnarled his hands and turned his hair +to a dry and dusty gray. +</p> +<p> +"He's gone hunting up Cripple Cow," Jerry answered. "Did you want to +cross?" +</p> +<p> +The woman began to weep quietly, while Spillane dropped a troubled +exclamation and strode to the window. Jerry joined him in gazing out to +where the cables lost themselves in the thick downpour. +</p> +<p> +It was the custom of the backwoods people in that section of country +to cross the Sacramento on the Yellow Dragon cable. For this service a +small toll was charged, which tolls the Yellow Dragon Company applied to +the payment of Hall's wages. +</p> +<p> +"We've got to get across, Jerry," Spillane said, at the same time +jerking his thumb over his shoulder in the direction of his wife. "Her +father's hurt at the Clover Leaf. Powder explosion. Not expected to +live. We just got word." +</p> +<p> +Jerry felt himself fluttering inwardly. He knew that Spillane wanted to +cross on the Yellow Dream cable, and in the absence of his father he +felt that he dared not assume such a responsibility, for the cable had +never been used for passengers; in fact, had not been used at all for a +long time. +</p> +<p> +"Maybe Hall will be back soon," he said. +</p> +<p> +Spillane shook his head, and demanded, "Where's your father?" +</p> +<p> +"San Francisco," Jerry answered, briefly. +</p> +<p> +Spillane groaned, and fiercely drove his clenched fist into the palm of +the other hand. His wife was crying more audibly, and Jerry could hear +her murmuring, "And daddy's dyin', dyin'!" +</p> +<p> +The tears welled up in his own eyes, and he stood irresolute, not +knowing what he should do. But the man decided for him. +</p> +<p> +"Look here, kid," he said, with determination, "the wife and me are +goin' over on this here cable of yours! Will you run it for us?" +</p> +<p> +Jerry backed slightly away. He did it unconsciously, as if recoiling +instinctively from something unwelcome. +</p> +<p> +"Better see if Hall's back," he suggested. +</p> +<p> +"And if he ain't?" +</p> +<p> +Again Jerry hesitated. +</p> +<p> +"I'll stand for the risk," Spillane added. "Don't you see, kid, we've +simply got to cross!" +</p> +<p> +Jerry nodded his head reluctantly. +</p> +<p> +"And there ain't no use waitin' for Hall," Spillane went on. "You know +as well as me he ain't back from Cripple Cow this time of day! So come +along and let's get started." +</p> +<p> +No wonder that Mrs. Spillane seemed terrified as they helped her +into the ore-car—so Jerry thought, as he gazed into the apparently +fathomless gulf beneath her. For it was so filled with rain and cloud, +hurtling and curling in the fierce blast, that the other shore, seven +hundred feet away, was invisible, while the cliff at their feet dropped +sheer down and lost itself in the swirling vapor. By all appearances it +might be a mile to bottom instead of two hundred feet. +</p> +<p> +"All ready?" he asked. +</p> +<p> +"Let her go!" Spillane shouted, to make himself heard above the roar of +the wind. +</p> +<p> +He had clambered in beside his wife, and was holding one of her hands in +his. +</p> +<p> +Jerry looked upon this with disapproval. "You'll need all your hands for +holdin' on, the way the wind's yowlin.'" +</p> +<p> +The man and the woman shifted their hands accordingly, tightly gripping +the sides of the car, and Jerry slowly and carefully released the brake. +The drum began to revolve as the endless cable passed round it, and the +car slid slowly out into the chasm, its trolley wheels rolling on the +stationary cable overhead, to which it was suspended. +</p> +<p> +It was not the first time Jerry had worked the cable, but it was the +first time he had done so away from the supervising eye of his father. +By means of the brake he regulated the speed of the car. It needed +regulating, for at times, caught by the stronger gusts of wind, it +swayed violently back and forth; and once, just before it was swallowed +up in a rain squall, it seemed about to spill out its human contents. +</p> +<p> +After that Jerry had no way of knowing where the car was except by means +of the cable. This he watched keenly as it glided around the drum. +"Three hundred feet," he breathed to himself, as the cable markings went +by, "three hundred and fifty, four hundred; four hundred and——" +</p> +<p> +The cable had stopped. Jerry threw off the brake, but it did not move. +He caught the cable with his hands and tried to start it by tugging +smartly. Something had gone wrong. What? He could not guess; he could +not see. Looking up, he could vaguely make out the empty car, which had +been crossing from the opposite cliff at a speed equal to that of the +loaded car. It was about two hundred and fifty feet away. That meant, he +knew, that somewhere in the gray obscurity, two hundred feet above the +river and two hundred and fifty feet from the other bank, Spillane and +his wife were suspended and stationary. +</p> +<p> +Three times Jerry shouted with all the shrill force of his lungs, but +no answering cry came out of the storm. It was impossible for him to +hear them or to make himself heard. As he stood for a moment, thinking +rapidly, the flying clouds seemed to thin and lift. He caught a brief +glimpse of the swollen Sacramento beneath, and a briefer glimpse of the +car and the man and woman. Then the clouds descended thicker than ever. +</p> +<p> +The boy examined the drum closely, and found nothing the matter with it. +Evidently it was the drum on the other side that had gone wrong. He was +appalled at thought of the man and woman out there in the midst of the +storm, hanging over the abyss, rocking back and forth in the frail car +and ignorant of what was taking place on shore. And he did not like to +think of their hanging there while he went round by the Yellow Dragon +cable to the other drum. +</p> +<p> +But he remembered a block and tackle in the tool-house, and ran and +brought it. They were double blocks, and he murmured aloud, "A purchase +of four," as he made the tackle fast to the endless cable. Then he +heaved upon it, heaved until it seemed that his arms were being drawn +out from their sockets and that his shoulder muscles would be ripped +asunder. Yet the cable did not budge. Nothing remained but to cross over +to the other side. +</p> +<p> +He was already soaking wet, so he did not mind the rain as he ran over +the trail to the Yellow Dragon. The storm was with him, and it was easy +going, although there was no Hall at the other end of it to man the +brake for him and regulate the speed of the car. This he did for +himself, however, by means of a stout rope, which he passed, with a +turn, round the stationary cable. +</p> +<p> +As the full force of the wind struck him in mid-air, swaying the cable +and whistling and roaring past it, and rocking and careening the car, he +appreciated more fully what must be the condition of mind of Spillane +and his wife. And this appreciation gave strength to him, as, safely +across, he fought his way up the other bank, in the teeth of the gale, +to the Yellow Dream cable. +</p> +<p> +To his consternation, he found the drum in thorough working order. +Everything was running smoothly at both ends. Where was the hitch? In +the middle, without a doubt. +</p> +<p> +From this side, the car containing Spillane was only two hundred and +fifty feet away. He could make out the man and woman through the +whirling vapor, crouching in the bottom of the car and exposed to the +pelting rain and the full fury of the wind. In a lull between the +squalls he shouted to Spillane to examine the trolley of the car. +</p> +<p> +Spillane heard, for he saw him rise up cautiously on his knees, and with +his hands go over both trolley-wheels. Then he turned his face toward +the bank. +</p> +<p> +"She's all right, kid!" +</p> +<p> +Jerry heard the words, faint and far, as from a remote distance. Then +what was the matter? Nothing remained but the other and empty car, which +he could not see, but which he knew to be there, somewhere in that +terrible gulf two hundred feet beyond Spillane's car. +</p> +<p> +His mind was made up on the instant. He was only fourteen years old, +slightly and wirily built; but his life had been lived among the +mountains, his father had taught him no small measure of "sailoring," +and he was not particularly afraid of heights. +</p> +<p> +In the tool-box by the drum he found an old monkey-wrench and a short +bar of iron, also a coil of fairly new Manila rope. He looked in vain +for a piece of board with which to rig a "boatswain's chair." There was +nothing at hand but large planks, which he had no means of sawing, so he +was compelled to do without the more comfortable form of saddle. +</p> +<p> +The saddle he rigged was very simple. With the rope he made merely a +large loop round the stationary cable, to which hung the empty car. When +he sat in the loop his hands could just reach the cable conveniently, +and where the rope was likely to fray against the cable he lashed his +coat, in lieu of the old sack he would have used had he been able to +find one. +</p> +<p> +These preparations swiftly completed, he swung out over the chasm, +sitting in the rope saddle and pulling himself along the cable by his +hands. With him he carried the monkey-wrench and short iron bar and a +few spare feet of rope. It was a slightly up-hill pull, but this he did +not mind so much as the wind. When the furious gusts hurled him back and +forth, sometimes half twisting him about, and he gazed down into the +gray depths, he was aware that he was afraid. It was an old cable. What +if it should break under his weight and the pressure of the wind? +</p> +<p> +It was fear he was experiencing, honest fear, and he knew that there was +a "gone" feeling in the pit of his stomach, and a trembling of the knees +which he could not quell. +</p> +<p> +But he held himself bravely to the task. The cable was old and worn, +sharp pieces of wire projected from it, and his hands were cut and +bleeding by the time he took his first rest, and held a shouted +conversation with Spillane. The car was directly beneath him and only a +few feet away, so he was able to explain the condition of affairs and +his errand. +</p> +<p> +"Wish I could help you," Spillane shouted at him as he started on, "but +the wife's gone all to pieces! Anyway, kid, take care of yourself! I got +myself in this fix, but it's up to you to get me out!" +</p> +<p> +"Oh, I'll do it!" Jerry shouted back. "Tell Mrs. Spillane that she'll be +ashore now in a jiffy!" +</p> +<p> +In the midst of pelting rain, which half-blinded him, swinging from side +to side like a rapid and erratic pendulum, his torn hands paining him +severely and his lungs panting from his exertions and panting from the +very air which the wind sometimes blew into his mouth with strangling +force, he finally arrived at the empty car. +</p> +<p> +A single glance showed him that he had not made the dangerous journey in +vain. The front trolley-wheel, loose from long wear, had jumped the +cable, and the cable was now jammed tightly between the wheel and the +sheave-block. +</p> +<p> +One thing was clear—the wheel must be removed from the block. A second +thing was equally clear—while the wheel was being removed the car would +have to be fastened to the cable by the rope he had brought. +</p> +<p> +At the end of a quarter of an hour, beyond making the car secure, he +had accomplished nothing. The key which bound the wheel on its axle was +rusted and jammed. He hammered at it with one hand and held on the best +he could with the other, but the wind persisted in swinging and twisting +his body, and made his blows miss more often than not. Nine-tenths of +the strength he expended was in trying to hold himself steady. For fear +that he might drop the monkey-wrench he made it fast to his wrist with +his handkerchief. +</p> +<p> +At the end of half an hour Jerry had hammered the key clear, but he +could not draw it out. A dozen times it seemed that he must give up +in despair, that all the danger and toil he had gone through were for +nothing. Then an idea came to him, and he went through his pockets with +feverish haste, and found what he sought—a ten-penny nail. +</p> +<p> +But for that nail, put in his pocket he knew not when or why, he would +have had to make another trip over the cable and back. Thrusting the +nail through the looped head of the key, he at last had a grip, and in +no time the key was out. +</p> +<p> +Then came punching and prying with the iron bar to get the wheel itself +free from where it was jammed by the cable against the side of the +block. After that Jerry replaced the wheel, and by means of the rope, +heaved up on the car till the trolley once more rested properly on the +cable. +</p> +<p> +All this took time. More than an hour and a half had elapsed since his +arrival at the empty car. And now, for the first time, he dropped out of +his saddle and down into the car. He removed the detaining ropes, and +the trolley-wheels began slowly to revolve. The car was moving, and he +knew that somewhere beyond, although he could not see, the car of +Spillane was likewise moving, and in the opposite direction. +</p> +<p> +There was no need for a brake, for his weight sufficiently +counterbalanced the weight in the other car; and soon he saw the cliff +rising out of the cloud depths and the old familiar drum going round and +round. +</p> +<p> +Jerry climbed out and made the car securely fast. He did it deliberately +and carefully, and then, quite unhero-like, he sank down by the drum, +regardless of the pelting storm, and burst out sobbing. +</p> +<p> +There were many reasons why he sobbed—partly from the pain of his +hands, which was excruciating; partly from exhaustion; partly from +relief and release from the nerve-tension he had been under for so long; +and in a large measure from thankfulness that the man and woman were +saved. +</p> +<p> +They were not there to thank him; but somewhere beyond that howling, +storm-driven gulf he knew they were hurrying over the trail toward the +Clover Leaf. +</p> +<p> +Jerry staggered to the cabin, and his hand left the white knob red with +blood as he opened the door, but he took no notice of it. +</p> +<p> +He was too proudly contented with himself, for he was certain that he +had done well, and he was honest enough to admit to himself that he had +done well. But a small regret arose and persisted in his thoughts—if +his father had only been there to see! +</p> +<a name="h2H_4_0007" id="h2H_4_0007"><!-- H2 anchor --></a> + +<div style="height: 4em;"><br /><br /><br /><br /></div> + +<h2> + CHRIS FARRINGTON: ABLE SEAMAN +</h2> +<p> +"If you vas in der old country ships, a liddle shaver like you vood pe +only der boy, und you vood wait on der able seamen. Und ven der able +seaman sing out, 'Boy, der water-jug!' you vood jump quick, like a shot, +und bring der water-jug. Und ven der able seaman sing out, 'Boy, my +boots!' you vood get der boots. Und you vood pe politeful, und say +'Yessir' und 'No sir.' But you pe in der American ship, und you t'ink +you are so good as der able seamen. Chris, mine boy, I haf ben a +sailorman for twenty-two years, und do you t'ink you are so good as me? +I vas a sailorman pefore you vas borned, und I knot und reef und splice +ven you play mit topstrings und fly kites." +</p> +<p> +"But you are unfair, Emil!" cried Chris Farrington, his sensitive face +flushed and hurt. He was a slender though strongly built young fellow of +seventeen, with Yankee ancestry writ large all over him. +</p> +<p> +"Dere you go vonce again!" the Swedish sailor exploded. "My name is +Mister Johansen, und a kid of a boy like you call me 'Emil!' It vas +insulting, und comes pecause of der American ship!" +</p> +<p> +"But you call me 'Chris!'" the boy expostulated, reproachfully. +</p> +<p> +"But you vas a boy." +</p> +<p> +"Who does a man's work," Chris retorted. "And because I do a man's work +I have as much right to call you by your first name as you me. We are +all equals in this fo'castle, and you know it. When we signed for the +voyage in San Francisco, we signed as sailors on the <i>Sophie +Sutherland</i> and there was no difference made with any of us. Haven't +I always done my work? Did I ever shirk? Did you or any other man ever +have to take a wheel for me? Or a lookout? Or go aloft?" +</p> +<p> +"Chris is right," interrupted a young English sailor. "No man has had to +do a tap of his work yet. He signed as good as any of us, and he's shown +himself as good—" +</p> +<p> +"Better!" broke in a Nova Scotia man. "Better than some of us! When +we struck the sealing-grounds he turned out to be next to the best +boat-steerer aboard. Only French Louis, who'd been at it for years, +could beat him. I'm only a boat-puller, and you're only a boat-puller, +too, Emil Johansen, for all your twenty-two years at sea. Why don't you +become a boat-steerer?" +</p> +<p> +"Too clumsy," laughed the Englishman, "and too slow." +</p> +<p> +"Little that counts, one way or the other," joined in Dane Jurgensen, +coming to the aid of his Scandinavian brother. "Emil is a man grown and +an able seaman; the boy is neither." +</p> +<p> +And so the argument raged back and forth, the Swedes, Norwegians and +Danes, because of race kinship, taking the part of Johansen, and the +English, Canadians and Americans taking the part of Chris. From an +unprejudiced point of view, the right was on the side of Chris. As he +had truly said, he did a man's work, and the same work that any of them +did. But they were prejudiced, and badly so, and out of the words which +passed rose a standing quarrel which divided the forecastle into two +parties. +</p> +<hr /> +<p> +The <i>Sophie Sutherland</i> was a seal-hunter, registered out of San +Francisco, and engaged in hunting the furry sea-animals along the +Japanese coast north to Bering Sea. The other vessels were two-masted +schooners, but she was a three-master and the largest in the fleet. In +fact, she was a full-rigged, three-topmast schooner, newly built. +</p> +<p> +Although Chris Farrington knew that justice was with him, and that he +performed all his work faithfully and well, many a time, in secret +thought, he longed for some pressing emergency to arise whereby he could +demonstrate to the Scandinavian seamen that he also was an able seaman. +</p> +<p> +But one stormy night, by an accident for which he was in nowise +accountable, in overhauling a spare anchor-chain he had all the fingers +of his left hand badly crushed. And his hopes were likewise crushed, for +it was impossible for him to continue hunting with the boats, and he was +forced to stay idly aboard until his fingers should heal. Yet, although +he little dreamed it, this very accident was to give him the +long-looked-for opportunity. +</p> +<p> +One afternoon in the latter part of May the <i>Sophie Sutherland</i> +rolled sluggishly in a breathless calm. The seals were abundant, the +hunting good, and the boats were all away and out of sight. And with +them was almost every man of the crew. Besides Chris, there remained +only the captain, the sailing-master and the Chinese cook. +</p> +<p> +The captain was captain only by courtesy. He was an old man, past +eighty, and blissfully ignorant of the sea and its ways; but he was the +owner of the vessel, and hence the honorable title. Of course the +sailing-master, who was really captain, was a thorough-going seaman. The +mate, whose post was aboard, was out with the boats, having temporarily +taken Chris's place as boat-steerer. +</p> +<p> +When good weather and good sport came together, the boats were +accustomed to range far and wide, and often did not return to the +schooner until long after dark. But for all that it was a perfect +hunting day, Chris noted a growing anxiety on the part of the +sailing-master. He paced the deck nervously, and was constantly sweeping +the horizon with his marine glasses. Not a boat was in sight. As sunset +arrived, he even sent Chris aloft to the mizzen-topmast-head, but with +no better luck. The boats could not possibly be back before midnight. +</p> +<p> +Since noon the barometer had been falling with startling rapidity, and +all the signs were ripe for a great storm—how great, not even the +sailing-master anticipated. He and Chris set to work to prepare for +it. They put storm gaskets on the furled topsails, lowered and stowed +the foresail and spanker and took in the two inner jibs. In the one +remaining jib they put a single reef, and a single reef in the mainsail. +</p> +<p> +Night had fallen before they finished, and with the darkness came the +storm. A low moan swept over the sea, and the wind struck the <i>Sophie +Sutherland</i> flat. But she righted quickly, and with the sailing-master +at the wheel, sheered her bow into within five points of the wind. +Working as well as he could with his bandaged hand, and with the feeble +aid of the Chinese cook, Chris went forward and backed the jib over to +the weather side. This with the flat mainsail, left the schooner hove to. +</p> +<p> +"God help the boats! It's no gale! It's a typhoon!" the sailing-master +shouted to Chris at eleven o'clock. "Too much canvas! Got to get two +more reefs into that mainsail, and got to do it right away!" He glanced +at the old captain, shivering in oilskins at the binnacle and holding on +for dear life. "There's only you and I, Chris—and the cook; but he's +next to worthless!" +</p> +<p> +In order to make the reef, it was necessary to lower the mainsail, and +the removal of this after pressure was bound to make the schooner fall +off before the wind and sea because of the forward pressure of the jib. +</p> +<p> +"Take the wheel!" the sailing-master directed. "And when I give the +word, hard up with it! And when she's square before it, steady her! And +keep her there! We'll heave to again as soon as I get the reefs in!" +</p> +<p> +Gripping the kicking spokes, Chris watched him and the reluctant cook go +forward into the howling darkness. The <i>Sophie Sutherland</i> was +plunging into the huge head-seas and wallowing tremendously, the tense +steel stays and taut rigging humming like harp-strings to the wind. A +buffeted cry came to his ears, and he felt the schooner's bow paying off +of its own accord. The mainsail was down! +</p> +<p> +He ran the wheel hard-over and kept anxious track of the changing +direction of the wind on his face and of the heave of the vessel. This +was the crucial moment. In performing the evolution she would have to +pass broadside to the surge before she could get before it. The wind was +blowing directly on his right cheek, when he felt the <i>Sophie +Sutherland</i> lean over and begin to rise toward the sky—up—up—an +infinite distance! Would she clear the crest of the gigantic wave? +</p> +<p> +Again by the feel of it, for he could see nothing, he knew that a wall +of water was rearing and curving far above him along the whole weather +side. There was an instant's calm as the liquid wall intervened and shut +off the wind. The schooner righted, and for that instant seemed at +perfect rest. Then she rolled to meet the descending rush. +</p> +<p> +Chris shouted to the captain to hold tight, and prepared himself for the +shock. But the man did not live who could face it. An ocean of water +smote Chris's back and his clutch on the spokes was loosened as if it +were a baby's. Stunned, powerless, like a straw on the face of a +torrent, he was swept onward he knew not whither. Missing the corner of +the cabin, he was dashed forward along the poop runway a hundred feet or +more, striking violently against the foot of the foremast. A second +wave, crushing inboard, hurled him back the way he had come, and left +him half-drowned where the poop steps should have been. +</p> +<p> +Bruised and bleeding, dimly conscious, he felt for the rail and dragged +himself to his feet. Unless something could be done, he knew the last +moment had come. As he faced the poop, the wind drove into his mouth +with suffocating force. This brought him back to his senses with a +start. The wind was blowing from dead aft! The schooner was out of the +trough and before it! But the send of the sea was bound to breach her to +again. Crawling up the runway, he managed to get to the wheel just in +time to prevent this. The binnacle light was still burning. They were +safe! +</p> +<p> +That is, he and the schooner were safe. As to the welfare of his three +companions he could not say. Nor did he dare leave the wheel in order to +find out, for it took every second of his undivided attention to keep +the vessel to her course. The least fraction of carelessness and the +heave of the sea under the quarter was liable to thrust her into the +trough. So, a boy of one hundred and forty pounds, he clung to his +herculean task of guiding the two hundred straining tons of fabric amid +the chaos of the great storm forces. +</p> +<p> +Half an hour later, groaning and sobbing, the captain crawled to Chris's +feet. All was lost, he whimpered. He was smitten unto death. The galley +had gone by the board, the mainsail and running-gear, the cook, +everything! +</p> +<p> +"Where's the sailing-master?" Chris demanded when he had caught his +breath after steadying a wild lurch of the schooner. It was no child's +play to steer a vessel under single-reefed jib before a typhoon. +</p> +<p> +"Clean up for'ard," the old man replied. "Jammed under the +fo'c'sle-head, but still breathing. Both his arms are broken, he says, +and he doesn't know how many ribs. He's hurt bad." +</p> +<p> +"Well, he'll drown there the way she's shipping water through the +hawse-pipes. Go for'ard!" Chris commanded, taking charge of things as a +matter of course. "Tell him not to worry; that I'm at the wheel. Help +him as much as you can, and make him help"—he stopped and ran the +spokes to starboard as a tremendous billow rose under the stern and +yawed the schooner to port—"and make him help himself for the rest. +Unship the fo'castle hatch and get him down into a bunk. Then ship the +hatch again." +</p> +<p> +The captain turned his aged face forward and wavered pitifully. The +waist of the ship was full of water to the bulwarks. He had just come +through it, and knew death lurked every inch of the way. +</p> +<p> +"Go!" Chris shouted, fiercely. And as the fear-stricken man started, +"And take another look for the cook!" +</p> +<p> +Two hours later, almost dead from suffering, the captain returned. He +had obeyed orders. The sailing-master was helpless, although safe in a +bunk; the cook was gone. Chris sent the captain below to the cabin to +change his clothes. +</p> +<p> +After interminable hours of toil, day broke cold and gray. Chris looked +about him. The <i>Sophie Sutherland</i> was racing before the typhoon +like a thing possessed. There was no rain, but the wind whipped the +spray of the sea mast-high, obscuring everything except in the immediate +neighborhood. +</p> +<p> +Two waves only could Chris see at a time—the one before and the one +behind. So small and insignificant the schooner seemed on the long +Pacific roll! Rushing up a maddening mountain, she would poise like a +cockle-shell on the giddy summit, breathless and rolling, leap outward +and down into the yawning chasm beneath, and bury herself in the smother +of foam at the bottom. Then the recovery, another mountain, another +sickening upward rush, another poise, and the downward crash. Abreast of +him, to starboard, like a ghost of the storm, Chris saw the cook dashing +apace with the schooner. Evidently, when washed overboard, he had +grasped and become entangled in a trailing halyard. +</p> +<p> +For three hours more, alone with this gruesome companion, Chris held the +<i>Sophie Sutherland</i> before the wind and sea. He had long since +forgotten his mangled fingers. The bandages had been torn away, and the +cold, salt spray had eaten into the half-healed wounds until they were +numb and no longer pained. But he was not cold. The terrific labor of +steering forced the perspiration from every pore. Yet he was faint and +weak with hunger and exhaustion, and hailed with delight the advent on +deck of the captain, who fed him all of a pound of cake-chocolate. It +strengthened him at once. +</p> +<p> +He ordered the captain to cut the halyard by which the cook's body was +towing, and also to go forward and cut loose the jib-halyard and sheet. +When he had done so, the jib fluttered a couple of moments like a +handkerchief, then tore out of the bolt-ropes and vanished. The +<i>Sophie Sutherland</i> was running under bare poles. +</p> +<p> +By noon the storm had spent itself, and by six in the evening the waves +had died down sufficiently to let Chris leave the helm. It was almost +hopeless to dream of the small boats weathering the typhoon, but there +is always the chance in saving human life, and Chris at once applied +himself to going back over the course along which he had fled. He +managed to get a reef in one of the inner jibs and two reefs in the +spanker, and then, with the aid of the watch-tackle, to hoist them to +the stiff breeze that yet blew. And all through the night, tacking back +and forth on the back track, he shook out canvas as fast as the wind +would permit. +</p> +<p> +The injured sailing-master had turned delirious and between tending him +and lending a hand with the ship, Chris kept the captain busy. "Taught +me more seamanship," as he afterward said, "than I'd learned on the +whole voyage." But by daybreak the old man's feeble frame succumbed, and +he fell off into exhausted sleep on the weather poop. +</p> +<p> +Chris, who could now lash the wheel, covered the tired man with blankets +from below, and went fishing in the lazaretto for something to eat. +But by the day following he found himself forced to give in, drowsing +fitfully by the wheel and waking ever and anon to take a look at things. +</p> +<p> +On the afternoon of the third day he picked up a schooner, dismasted and +battered. As he approached, close-hauled on the wind, he saw her decks +crowded by an unusually large crew, and on sailing in closer, made out +among others the faces of his missing comrades. And he was just in the +nick of time, for they were fighting a losing fight at the pumps. An +hour later they, with the crew of the sinking craft, were aboard the +<i>Sophie Sutherland</i>. +</p> +<p> +Having wandered so far from their own vessel, they had taken refuge on +the strange schooner just before the storm broke. She was a Canadian +sealer on her first voyage, and as was now apparent, her last. +</p> +<p> +The captain of the <i>Sophie Sutherland</i> had a story to tell, also, +and he told it well—so well, in fact, that when all hands were gathered +together on deck during the dog-watch, Emil Johansen strode over to +Chris and gripped him by the hand. +</p> +<p> +"Chris," he said, so loudly that all could hear, "Chris, I gif in. You +vas yoost so good a sailorman as I. You vas a bully boy, und able +seaman, und I pe proud for you! +</p> +<p> +"Und Chris!" He turned as if he had forgotten something, and called +back, "From dis time always you call me 'Emil' mitout der 'Mister!'" +</p> +<a name="h2H_4_0008" id="h2H_4_0008"><!-- H2 anchor --></a> + +<div style="height: 4em;"><br /><br /><br /><br /></div> + +<h2> + TO REPEL BOARDERS +</h2> +<p> +"No; honest, now, Bob, I'm sure I was born too late. The twentieth +century's no place for me. If I'd had my way——" +</p> +<p> +"You'd have been born in the sixteenth," I broke in, laughing, "with +Drake and Hawkins and Raleigh and the rest of the sea-kings." +</p> +<p> +"You're right!" Paul affirmed. He rolled over upon his back on the +little after-deck, with a long sigh of dissatisfaction. +</p> +<p> +It was a little past midnight, and, with the wind nearly astern, we were +running down Lower San Francisco Bay to Bay Farm Island. Paul Fairfax +and I went to the same school, lived next door to each other, and +"chummed it" together. By saving money, by earning more, and by +each of us foregoing a bicycle on his birthday, we had collected +the purchase-price of the <i>Mist</i>, a beamy twenty-eight-footer, +sloop-rigged, with baby topsail and centerboard. Paul's father was a +yachtsman himself, and he had conducted the business for us, poking +around, overhauling, sticking his penknife into the timbers, and testing +the planks with the greatest care. In fact, it was on his schooner, +the <i>Whim</i>, that Paul and I had picked up what we knew about +boat-sailing, and now that the <i>Mist</i> was ours, we were hard at +work adding to our knowledge. +</p> +<p> +The <i>Mist</i>, being broad of beam, was comfortable and roomy. +A man could stand upright in the cabin, and what with the stove, +cooking-utensils, and bunks, we were good for trips in her of a week at +a time. And we were just starting out on the first of such trips, and it +was because it was the first trip that we were sailing by night. Early +in the evening we had beaten out from Oakland, and we were now off the +mouth of Alameda Creek, a large salt-water estuary which fills and +empties San Leandro Bay. +</p> +<p> +"Men lived in those days," Paul said, so suddenly as to startle me from +my own thoughts. "In the days of the sea-kings, I mean," he explained. +</p> +<p> +I said "Oh!" sympathetically, and began to whistle "Captain Kidd." +</p> +<p> +"Now, I've my ideas about things," Paul went on. "They talk about +romance and adventure and all that, but I say romance and adventure are +dead. We're too civilized. We don't have adventures in the twentieth +century. We go to the circus——" +</p> +<p> +"But——" I strove to interrupt, though he would not listen to me. +</p> +<p> +"You look here, Bob," he said. "In all the time you and I've gone +together what adventures have we had? True, we were out in the hills +once, and didn't get back till late at night, and we were good and +hungry, but we weren't even lost. We knew where we were all the time. It +was only a case of walk. What I mean is, we've never had to fight for +our lives. Understand? We've never had a pistol fired at us, or a +cannon, or a sword waving over our heads, or—or anything.... +</p> +<p> +"You'd better slack away three or four feet of that main-sheet," he said +in a hopeless sort of way, as though it did not matter much anyway. "The +wind's still veering around. +</p> +<p> +"Why, in the old times the sea was one constant glorious adventure," +he continued. "A boy left school and became a midshipman, and in a few +weeks was cruising after Spanish galleons or locking yard-arms with a +French privateer, or—doing lots of things." +</p> +<p> +"Well—there <i>are</i> adventures today," I objected. +</p> +<p> +But Paul went on as though I had not spoken: +</p> +<p> +"And today we go from school to high school, and from high school to +college, and then we go into the office or become doctors and things, +and the only adventures we know about are the ones we read in books. +Why, just as sure as I'm sitting here on the stern of the sloop +<i>Mist</i>, just so sure am I that we wouldn't know what to do if a +real adventure came along. Now, would we?" +</p> +<p> +"Oh, I don't know," I answered non-committally. +</p> +<p> +"Well, you wouldn't be a coward, would you?" he demanded. +</p> +<p> +I was sure I wouldn't and said so. +</p> +<p> +"But you don't have to be a coward to lose your head, do you?" +</p> +<p> +I agreed that brave men might get excited. +</p> +<p> +"Well, then," Paul summed up, with a note of regret in his voice, "the +chances are that we'd spoil the adventure. So it's a shame, and that's +all I can say about it." +</p> +<p> +"The adventure hasn't come yet," I answered, not caring to see him down +in the mouth over nothing. You see, Paul was a peculiar fellow in some +things, and I knew him pretty well. He read a good deal, and had a quick +imagination, and once in a while he'd get into moods like this one. So I +said, "The adventure hasn't come yet, so there's no use worrying about +its being spoiled. For all we know, it might turn out splendidly." +</p> +<p> +Paul didn't say anything for some time, and I was thinking he was out of +the mood, when he spoke up suddenly: +</p> +<p> +"Just imagine, Bob Kellogg, as we're sailing along now, just as we are, +and never mind what for, that a boat should bear down upon us with armed +men in it, what would you do to repel boarders? Think you could rise to +it?" +</p> +<p> +"What would <i>you</i> do?" I asked pointedly. "Remember, we haven't +even a single shotgun aboard." +</p> +<p> +"You would surrender, then?" he demanded angrily. "But suppose they were +going to kill you?" +</p> +<p> +"I'm not saying what I'd do," I answered stiffly, beginning to get a +little angry myself. "I'm asking what you'd do, without weapons of any +sort?" +</p> +<p> +"I'd find something," he replied—rather shortly, I thought. +</p> +<p> +I began to chuckle. "Then the adventure wouldn't be spoiled, would it? +And you've been talking rubbish." +</p> +<p> +Paul struck a match, looked at his watch, and remarked that it was +nearly one o'clock—a way he had when the argument went against him. +Besides, this was the nearest we ever came to quarreling now, though +our share of squabbles had fallen to us in the earlier days of our +friendship. I had just seen a little white light ahead when Paul +spoke again. +</p> +<p> +"Anchor-light," he said. "Funny place for people to drop the hook. It +may be a scow-schooner with a dinky astern, so you'd better go wide." +</p> +<p> +I eased the <i>Mist</i> several points, and, the wind puffing up, we +went plowing along at a pretty fair speed, passing the light so wide +that we could not make out what manner of craft it marked. Suddenly the +<i>Mist</i> slacked up in a slow and easy way, as though running upon +soft mud. We were both startled. The wind was blowing stronger than +ever, and yet we were almost at a standstill. +</p> +<p> +"Mud-flat out here? Never heard of such a thing!" +</p> +<p> +So Paul exclaimed with a snort of unbelief, and, seizing an oar, shoved +it down over the side. And straight down it went till the water wet +his hand. There was no bottom! Then we were dumbfounded. The wind was +whistling by, and still the <i>Mist</i> was moving ahead at a snail's +pace. There seemed something dead about her, and it was all I could do +at the tiller to keep her from swinging up into the wind. +</p> +<p> +"Listen!" I laid my hand on Paul's arm. We could hear the sound of +rowlocks, and saw the little white light bobbing up and down and now +very close to us. "There's your armed boat," I whispered in fun. +"Beat the crew to quarters and stand by to repel boarders!" +</p> +<p> +We both laughed, and were still laughing when a wild scream of rage came +out of the darkness, and the approaching boat shot under our stern. +By the light of the lantern it carried we could see the two men in it +distinctly. They were foreign-looking fellows with sun-bronzed faces, +and with knitted tam-o'-shanters perched seaman fashion on their heads. +Bright-colored woolen sashes were around their waists, and long +sea-boots covered their legs. I remember yet the cold chill which passed +along my backbone as I noted the tiny gold ear-rings in the ears of one. +For all the world they were like pirates stepped out of the pages of +romance. And, to make the picture complete, their faces were distorted +with anger, and each flourished a long knife. They were both shouting, +in high-pitched voices, some foreign jargon we could not understand. +</p> +<p> +One of them, the smaller of the two, and if anything the more +vicious-looking, put his hands on the rail of the <i>Mist</i> and +started to come aboard. Quick as a flash Paul placed the end of the oar +against the man's chest and shoved him back into his boat. He fell in a +heap, but scrambled to his feet, waving the knife and shrieking: +</p> +<p> +"You break-a my net-a! You break-a my net-a!" +</p> +<p> +And he held forth in the jargon again, his companion joining him, and +both preparing to make another dash to come aboard the <i>Mist</i>. +</p> +<p> +"They're Italian fishermen," I cried, the facts of the case breaking in +upon me. "We've run over their smelt-net, and it's slipped along the +keel and fouled our rudder. We're anchored to it." +</p> +<p> +"Yes, and they're murderous chaps, too," Paul said, sparring at them +with the oar to make them keep their distance. +</p> +<p> +"Say, you fellows!" he called to them. "Give us a chance and we'll get +it clear for you! We didn't know your net was there. We didn't mean to +do it, you know!" +</p> +<p> +"You won't lose anything!" I added. "We'll pay the damages!" +</p> +<p> +But they could not understand what we were saying, or did not care to +understand. +</p> +<p> +"You break-a my net-a! You break-a my net-a!" the smaller man, the one +with the earrings, screamed back, making furious gestures. "I fix-a you! +You-a see, I fix-a you!" +</p> +<p> +This time, when Paul thrust him back, he seized the oar in his hands, +and his companion jumped aboard. I put my back against the tiller, and +no sooner had he landed, and before he had caught his balance, than I +met him with another oar, and he fell heavily backward into the boat. It +was getting serious, and when he arose and caught my oar, and I realized +his strength, I confess that I felt a goodly tinge of fear. But though +he was stronger than I, instead of dragging me overboard when he +wrenched on the oar, he merely pulled his boat in closer; and when +I shoved, the boat was forced away. Besides, the knife, still in his +right hand, made him awkward and somewhat counterbalanced the advantage +his superior strength gave him. Paul and his enemy were in the same +situation—a sort of deadlock, which continued for several seconds, but +which could not last. Several times I shouted that we would pay for +whatever damage their net had suffered, but my words seemed to be +without effect. +</p> +<p> +Then my man began to tuck the oar under his arm, and to come up along +it, slowly, hand over hand. The small man did the same with Paul. Moment +by moment they came closer, and closer, and we knew that the end was +only a question of time. +</p> +<p> +"Hard up, Bob!" Paul called softly to me. +</p> +<p> +I gave him a quick glance, and caught an instant's glimpse of what I +took to be a very pale face and a very set jaw. +</p> +<p> +"Oh, Bob," he pleaded, "hard up your helm! Hard up your helm, Bob!" +</p> +<p> +And his meaning dawned upon me. Still holding to my end of the oar, I +shoved the tiller over with my back, and even bent my body to keep it +over. As it was the <i>Mist</i> was nearly dead before the wind, and +this maneuver was bound to force her to jibe her mainsail from one side +to the other. I could tell by the "feel" when the wind spilled out of +the canvas and the boom tilted up. Paul's man had now gained a footing +on the little deck, and my man was just scrambling up. +</p> +<p> +"Look out!" I shouted to Paul. "Here she comes!" +</p> +<p> +Both he and I let go the oars and tumbled into the cockpit. The next +instant the big boom and the heavy blocks swept over our heads, the +main-sheet whipping past like a great coiling snake and the <i>Mist</i> +heeling over with a violent jar. Both men had jumped for it, but in some +way the little man either got his knife-hand jammed or fell upon it, for +the first sight we caught of him, he was standing in his boat, his +bleeding fingers clasped close between his knees and his face all +twisted with pain and helpless rage. +</p> +<p> +"Now's our chance!" Paul whispered. "Over with you!" +</p> +<p> +And on either side of the rudder we lowered ourselves into the water, +pressing the net down with our feet, till, with a jerk, it went clear, +Then it was up and in, Paul at the main-sheet and I at the tiller, the +<i>Mist</i> plunging ahead with freedom in her motion, and the little +white light astern growing small and smaller. +</p> +<p> +"Now that you've had your adventure, do you feel any better?" I remember +asking when we had changed our clothes and were sitting dry and +comfortable again in the cockpit. +</p> +<p> +"Well, if I don't have the nightmare for a week to come"—Paul paused +and puckered his brows in judicial fashion—"it will be because I can't +sleep, that's one thing sure!" +</p> +<a name="h2H_4_0009" id="h2H_4_0009"><!-- H2 anchor --></a> + +<div style="height: 4em;"><br /><br /><br /><br /></div> + +<h2> + AN ADVENTURE IN THE UPPER SEA +</h2> +<p> +I am a retired captain of the upper sea. That is to say, when I was a +younger man (which is not so long ago) I was an aeronaut and navigated +that aerial ocean which is all around about us and above us. Naturally +it is a hazardous profession, and naturally I have had many thrilling +experiences, the most thrilling, or at least the most nerve-racking, +being the one I am about to relate. +</p> +<p> +It happened before I went in for hydrogen gas balloons, all of varnished +silk, doubled and lined, and all that, and fit for voyages of days +instead of mere hours. The "Little Nassau" (named after the "Great +Nassau" of many years back) was the balloon I was making ascents in at +the time. It was a fair-sized, hot-air affair, of single thickness, good +for an hour's flight or so and capable of attaining an altitude of a +mile or more. It answered my purpose, for my act at the time was making +half-mile parachute jumps at recreation parks and country fairs. I was +in Oakland, a California town, filling a summer's engagement with a +street railway company. The company owned a large park outside the city, +and of course it was to its interest to provide attractions which would +send the townspeople over its line when they went out to get a whiff of +country air. My contract called for two ascensions weekly, and my act +was an especially taking feature, for it was on my days that the largest +crowds were drawn. +</p> +<p> +Before you can understand what happened, I must first explain a bit +about the nature of the hot air balloon which is used for parachute +jumping. If you have ever witnessed such a jump, you will remember that +directly the parachute was cut loose the balloon turned upside down, +emptied itself of its smoke and heated air, flattened out and fell +straight down, beating the parachute to the ground. Thus there is no +chasing a big deserted bag for miles and miles across the country, and +much time, as well as trouble, is thereby saved. This maneuver is +accomplished by attaching a weight, at the end of a long rope, to the +top of the balloon. The aeronaut, with his parachute and trapeze, hangs +to the bottom of the balloon, and, weighing more, keeps it right side +down. But when he lets go, the weight attached to the top immediately +drags the top down, and the bottom, which is the open mouth, goes up, +the heated air pouring out. The weight used for this purpose on the +"Little Nassau" was a bag of sand. +</p> +<p> +On the particular day I have in mind there was an unusually large crowd +in attendance, and the police had their hands full keeping the people +back. There was much pushing and shoving, and the ropes were bulging +with the pressure of men, women and children. As I came down from the +dressing room I noticed two girls outside the ropes, of about fourteen +and sixteen, and inside the rope a youngster of eight or nine. They +were holding him by the hands, and he was struggling, excitedly and +half in laughter, to get away from them. I thought nothing of it at +the time—just a bit of childish play, no more; and it was only in the +light of after events that the scene was impressed vividly upon me. +</p> +<p> +"Keep them cleared out, George!" I called to my assistant. "We don't +want any accidents." +</p> +<p> +"Ay," he answered, "that I will, Charley." +</p> +<p> +George Guppy had helped me in no end of ascents, and because of his +coolness, judgment and absolute reliability I had come to trust my life +in his hands with the utmost confidence. His business it was to overlook +the inflating of the balloon, and to see that everything about the +parachute was in perfect working order. +</p> +<p> +The "Little Nassau" was already filled and straining at the guys. The +parachute lay flat along the ground and beyond it the trapeze. I tossed +aside my overcoat, took my position, and gave the signal to let go. As +you know, the first rush upward from the earth is very sudden, and this +time the balloon, when it first caught the wind, heeled violently over +and was longer than usual in righting. I looked down at the old familiar +sight of the world rushing away from me. And there were the thousands of +people, every face silently upturned. And the silence startled me, for, +as crowds went, this was the time for them to catch their first breath +and send up a roar of applause. But there was no hand-clapping, +whistling, cheering—only silence. And instead, clear as a bell and +distinct, without the slightest shake or quaver, came George's voice +through the megaphone: +</p> +<p> +"Ride her down, Charley! Ride the balloon down!" +</p> +<p> +What had happened? I waved my hand to show that I had heard, and began +to think. Had something gone wrong with the parachute? Why should I ride +the balloon down instead of making the jump which thousands were waiting +to see? What was the matter? And as I puzzled, I received another start. +The earth was a thousand feet beneath, and yet I heard a child crying +softly, and seemingly very close to hand. And though the "Little Nassau" +was shooting skyward like a rocket, the crying did not grow fainter and +fainter and die away. I confess I was almost on the edge of a funk, +when, unconsciously following up the noise with my eyes, I looked above +me and saw a boy astride the sandbag which was to bring the "Little +Nassau" to earth. And it was the same little boy I had seen struggling +with the two girls—his sisters, as I afterward learned. +</p> +<p> +There he was, astride the sandbag and holding on to the rope for +dear life. A puff of wind heeled the balloon slightly, and he swung out +into space for ten or a dozen feet, and back again, fetching up against +the tight canvas with a thud which even shook me, thirty feet or more +beneath. I thought to see him dashed loose, but he clung on and +whimpered. They told me afterward, how, at the moment they were casting +off the balloon, the little fellow had torn away from his sisters, +ducked under the rope, and deliberately jumped astride the sandbag. It +has always been a wonder to me that he was not jerked off in the first +rush. +</p> +<p> +Well, I felt sick all over as I looked at him there, and I understood +why the balloon had taken longer to right itself, and why George had +called after me to ride her down. Should I cut loose with the parachute, +the bag would at once turn upside down, empty itself, and begin its +swift descent. The only hope lay in my riding her down and in the boy +holding on. There was no possible way for me to reach him. No man could +climb the slim, closed parachute; and even if a man could, and made the +mouth of the balloon, what could he do? Straight out, and fifteen feet +away, trailed the boy on his ticklish perch, and those fifteen feet were +empty space. +</p> +<p> +I thought far more quickly than it takes to tell all this, and realized +on the instant that the boy's attention must be called away from his +terrible danger. Exercising all the self-control I possessed, and +striving to make myself very calm, I said cheerily: +</p> +<p> +"Hello, up there, who are you!" +</p> +<p> +He looked down at me, choking back his tears and brightening up, but +just then the balloon ran into a cross-current, turned half around and +lay over. This set him swinging back and forth, and he fetched the +canvas another bump. Then he began to cry again. +</p> +<p> +"Isn't it great?" I asked heartily, as though it was the most enjoyable +thing in the world; and, without waiting for him to answer: "What's your +name?" +</p> +<p> +"Tommy Dermott," he answered. +</p> +<p> +"Glad to make your acquaintance, Tommy Dermott," I went on. "But I'd +like to know who said you could ride up with me?" +</p> +<p> +He laughed and said he just thought he'd ride up for the fun of it. And +so we went on, I sick with fear for him, and cudgeling my brains to keep +up the conversation. I knew that it was all I could do, and that his +life depended upon my ability to keep his mind off his danger. I pointed +out to him the great panorama spreading away to the horizon and four +thousand feet beneath us. There lay San Francisco Bay like a great +placid lake, the haze of smoke over the city, the Golden Gate, the ocean +fog-rim beyond, and Mount Tamalpais over all, clear-cut and sharp +against the sky. Directly below us I could see a buggy, apparently +crawling, but I knew from experience that the men in it were lashing the +horses on our trail. +</p> +<p> +But he grew tired of looking around, and I could see he was beginning to +get frightened. +</p> +<p> +"How would you like to go in for the business?" I asked. +</p> +<p> +He cheered up at once and asked "Do you get good pay?" +</p> +<p> +But the "Little Nassau," beginning to cool, had started on its long +descent, and ran into counter currents which bobbed it roughly about. +This swung the boy around pretty lively, smashing him into the bag once +quite severely. His lip began to tremble at this, and he was crying +again. I tried to joke and laugh, but it was no use. His pluck was +oozing out, and at any moment I was prepared to see him go shooting +past me. +</p> +<p> +I was in despair. Then, suddenly, I remembered how one fright could +destroy another fright, and I frowned up at him and shouted sternly: +</p> +<p> +"You just hold on to that rope! If you don't I'll thrash you within an +inch of your life when I get you down on the ground! Understand?" +</p> +<p> +"Ye-ye-yes, sir," he whimpered, and I saw that the thing had worked. I +was nearer to him than the earth, and he was more afraid of me than of +falling. +</p> +<p> +"'Why, you've got a snap up there on that soft bag," I rattled on. +</p> +<p> +"Yes," I assured him, "this bar down here is hard and narrow, and it +hurts to sit on it." +</p> +<p> +Then a thought struck him, and he forgot all about his aching fingers. +</p> +<p> +"When are you going to jump?" he asked. "That's what I came up to see." +</p> +<p> +I was sorry to disappoint him, but I wasn't going to make any jump. +</p> +<p> +But he objected to that. "It said so in the papers," he said. +</p> +<p> +"I don't care," I answered. "I'm feeling sort of lazy today, and I'm +just going to ride down the balloon. It's my balloon and I guess I can +do as I please about it. And, anyway, we're almost down now." +</p> +<p> +And we were, too, and sinking fast. And right there and then that +youngster began to argue with me as to whether it was right for me to +disappoint the people, and to urge their claims upon me. And it was +with a happy heart that I held up my end of it, justifying myself in a +thousand different ways, till we shot over a grove of eucalyptus trees +and dipped to meet the earth. +</p> +<p> +"Hold on tight!" I shouted, swinging down from the trapeze by my hands +in order to make a landing on my feet. +</p> +<p> +We skimmed past a barn, missed a mesh of clothesline, frightened +the barnyard chickens into a panic, and rose up again clear over a +haystack—all this almost quicker than it takes to tell. Then we came +down in an orchard, and when my feet had touched the ground I fetched up +the balloon by a couple of turns of the trapeze around an apple tree. +</p> +<p> +I have had my balloon catch fire in mid air, I have hung on the cornice +of a ten-story house, I have dropped like a bullet for six hundred feet +when a parachute was slow in opening; but never have I felt so weak and +faint and sick as when I staggered toward the unscratched boy and +gripped him by the arm. +</p> +<p> +"Tommy Dermott," I said, when I had got my nerves back somewhat. "Tommy +Dermott, I'm going to lay you across my knee and give you the greatest +thrashing a boy ever got in the world's history." +</p> +<p> +"No, you don't," he answered, squirming around. "You said you wouldn't +if I held on tight." +</p> +<p> +"That's all right," I said, "but I'm going to, just the same. The +fellows who go up in balloons are bad, unprincipled men, and I'm going +to give you a lesson right now to make you stay away from them, and from +balloons, too." +</p> +<p> +And then I gave it to him, and if it wasn't the greatest thrashing in +the world, it was the greatest he ever got. +</p> +<p> +But it took all the grit out of me, left me nerve-broken, that +experience. I canceled the engagement with the street railway company, +and later on went in for gas. Gas is much the safer, anyway. +</p> +<a name="h2H_4_0010" id="h2H_4_0010"><!-- H2 anchor --></a> + +<div style="height: 4em;"><br /><br /><br /><br /></div> + +<h2> + BALD-FACE +</h2> +<p> +"Talkin' of bear——" +</p> +<p> +The Klondike King paused meditatively, and the group on the hotel porch +hitched their chairs up closer. +</p> +<p> +"Talkin' of bear," he went on, "now up in the Northern Country there are +various kinds. On the Little Pelly, for instance, they come down that +thick in the summer to feed on the salmon that you can't get an Indian +or white man to go nigher than a day's journey to the place. And up +in the Rampart Mountains there's a curious kind of bear called the +'side-hill grizzly.' That's because he's traveled on the side-hills ever +since the Flood, and the two legs on the down-hill side are twice as +long as the two on the up-hill. And he can out-run a jack rabbit when he +gets steam up. Dangerous? Catch you! Bless you, no. All a man has to do +is to circle down the hill and run the other way. You see, that throws +mister bear's long legs up the hill and the short ones down. Yes, he's a +mighty peculiar creature, but that wasn't what I started in to tell +about. +</p> +<p> +"They've got another kind of bear up on the Yukon, and his legs are all +right, too. He's called the bald-face grizzly, and he's jest as big as +he is bad. It's only the fool white men that think of hunting him. +Indians got too much sense. But there's one thing about the bald-face +that a man has to learn: he never gives the trail to mortal creature. +If you see him comin', and you value your skin, you get out of his path. +If you don't, there's bound to be trouble. If the bald-face met Jehovah +Himself on the trail, he'd not give him an inch. O, he's a selfish +beggar, take my word for it. But I had to learn all this. Didn't know +anything about bear when I went into the country, exceptin' when I was a +youngster I'd seen a heap of cinnamons and that little black kind. And +they was nothin' to be scared at. +</p> +<p> +"Well, after we'd got settled down on our claim, I went up on the hill +lookin' for a likely piece of birch to make an ax-handle out of. But +it was pretty hard to find the right kind, and I kept a-goin' and kept +a-goin' for nigh on two hours. Wasn't in no hurry to make my choice, you +see, for I was headin' down to the Forks, where I was goin' to borrow a +log-bit from Old Joe Gee. When I started, I'd put a couple of sour-dough +biscuits and some sowbelly in my pocket in case I might get hungry. +And I'm tellin' you that lunch came in right handy before I was done +with it. +</p> +<p> +"Bime-by I hit upon the likeliest little birch saplin', right in the +middle of a clump of jack pine. Jest as I raised my hand-ax I happened +to cast my eyes down the hill. There was a big bear comin' up, swingin' +along on all fours, right in my direction. It was a bald-face, but +little I knew then about such kind. +</p> +<p> +"'Jest watch me scare him,' I says to myself, and I stayed out of sight +in the trees. +</p> +<p> +"Well, I waited till he was about a hundred feet off, then out I runs +into the open. +</p> +<p> +"'Oof! oof!' I hollered at him, expectin' to see him turn tail like +chain lightning. +</p> +<p> +"Turn tail? He jest throwed up his head for one good look and came a +comin'. +</p> +<p> +"'Oof! oof!' I hollered, louder'n ever. But he jest came a comin'. +</p> +<p> +"'Consarn you!' I says to myself, gettin' mad. 'I'll make you jump the +trail.' +</p> +<p> +"So I grabs my hat, and wavin' and hollerin' starts down the trail to +meet him. A big sugar pine had gone down in a windfall and lay about +breast high. I stops jest behind it, old bald-face comin' all the time. +It was jest then that fear came to me. I yelled like a Comanche Indian +as he raised up to come over the log, and fired my hat full in his face. +Then I lit out. +</p> +<p> +"Say! I rounded the end of that log and put down the hill at a +two-twenty clip, old bald-face reachin' for me at every jump. At the +bottom was a broad, open flat, quarter of a mile to timber and full of +niggerheads. I knew if ever I slipped I was a goner, but I hit only the +high places till you couldn't a-seen my trail for smoke. And the old +devil snortin' along hot after me. Midway across, he reached for me, +jest strikin' the heel of my moccasin with his claw. Tell you I was +doin' some tall thinkin' jest then. I knew he had the wind of me and I +could never make the brush, so I pulled my little lunch out of my pocket +and dropped it on the fly. +</p> +<p> +"Never looked back till I hit the timber, and then he was mouthing the +biscuits in a way which wasn't nice to see, considerin' how close he'd +been to me. I never slacked up. No, sir! Jest kept hittin' the trail for +all there was in me. But jest as I came around a bend, heelin' it right +lively I tell you, what'd I see in middle of the trail before me, and +comin' my way, but another bald-face! +</p> +<p> +"'Whoof!' he says when he spotted me, and he came a-runnin.' +</p> +<p> +"Instanter I was about and hittin' the back trail twice as fast as I'd +come. The way this one was puffin' after me, I'd clean forgot all about +the other bald-face. First thing I knew I seen him mosying along kind of +easy, wonderin' most likely what had become of me, and if I tasted as +good as my lunch. Say! when he seen me he looked real pleased. And then +he came a-jumpin' for me. +</p> +<p> +"'Whoof!' he says. +</p> +<p> +"'Whoof!' says the one behind me. +</p> +<p> +"Bang I goes, slap off the trail sideways, a-plungin' and a-clawin' +through the brush like a wild man. By this time I was clean crazed; +thought the whole country was full of bald-faces. Next thing I +knows—whop, I comes up against something in a tangle of wild blackberry +bushes. Then that something hits me a slap and closes in on me. Another +bald-face! And then and there I knew I was gone for sure. But I made up +to die game, and of all the rampin' and roarin' and rippin' and tearin' +you ever see, that was the worst. +</p> +<p> +"'My God! O my wife!' it says. And I looked and it was a man I was +hammering into kingdom come. +</p> +<p> +"'Thought you was a bear,' says I. +</p> +<p> +"He kind of caught his breath and looked at me. Then he says, 'Same +here.' +</p> +<p> +"Seemed as though he'd been chased by a bald-face, too, and had hid in +the blackberries. So that's how we mistook each other. +</p> +<p> +"But by that time the racket on the trail was something terrible, and we +didn't wait to explain matters. That afternoon we got Joe Gee and some +rifles and came back loaded for bear. Mebbe you won't believe me, but +when we got to the spot, there was the two bald-faces lyin' dead. You +see, when I jumped out, they came together, and each refused to give +trail to the other. So they fought it out. Talkin' of bear. As I was +sayin'——" +</p> +<a name="h2H_4_0011" id="h2H_4_0011"><!-- H2 anchor --></a> + +<div style="height: 4em;"><br /><br /><br /><br /></div> + +<h2> + IN YEDDO BAY +</h2> +<p> +Somewhere along Theater Street he had lost it. He remembered being +hustled somewhat roughly on the bridge over one of the canals that +cross that busy thoroughfare. Possibly some slant-eyed, light-fingered +pickpocket was even then enjoying the fifty-odd yen his purse had +contained. And then again, he thought, he might have lost it himself, +just lost it carelessly. +</p> +<p> +Hopelessly, and for the twentieth time, he searched in all his pockets +for the missing purse. It was not there. His hand lingered in his +empty hip-pocket, and he woefully regarded the voluble and vociferous +restaurant-keeper, who insanely clamored: "Twenty-five sen! You pay now! +Twenty-five sen!" +</p> +<p> +"But my purse!" the boy said. "I tell you I've lost it somewhere." +</p> +<p> +Whereupon the restaurant-keeper lifted his arms indignantly and +shrieked: "Twenty-five sen! Twenty-five sen! You pay now!" +</p> +<p> +Quite a crowd had collected, and it was growing embarrassing for Alf +Davis. +</p> +<p> +It was so ridiculous and petty, Alf thought. Such a disturbance about +nothing! And, decidedly, he must be doing something. Thoughts of diving +wildly through that forest of legs, and of striking out at whomsoever +opposed him, flashed through his mind; but, as though divining his +purpose, one of the waiters, a short and chunky chap with an +evil-looking cast in one eye, seized him by the arm. +</p> +<p> +"You pay now! You pay now! Twenty-five sen!" yelled the proprietor, +hoarse with rage. +</p> +<p> +Alf was red in the face, too, from mortification; but he resolutely set +out on another exploration. He had given up the purse, pinning his last +hope on stray coins. In the little change-pocket of his coat he found +a ten-sen piece and five-copper sen; and remembering having recently +missed a ten-sen piece, he cut the seam of the pocket and resurrected +the coin from the depths of the lining. Twenty-five sen he held in his +hand, the sum required to pay for the supper he had eaten. He turned +them over to the proprietor, who counted them, grew suddenly calm, and +bowed obsequiously—in fact, the whole crowd bowed obsequiously and +melted away. +</p> +<p> +Alf Davis was a young sailor, just turned sixteen, on board the <i>Annie +Mine</i>, an American sailing-schooner, which had run into Yokohama to +ship its season's catch of skins to London. And in this, his second trip +ashore, he was beginning to snatch his first puzzling glimpses of the +Oriental mind. He laughed when the bowing and kotowing was over, and +turned on his heel to confront another problem. How was he to get aboard +ship? It was eleven o'clock at night, and there would be no ship's boats +ashore, while the outlook for hiring a native boatman, with nothing but +empty pockets to draw upon, was not particularly inviting. +</p> +<p> +Keeping a sharp lookout for shipmates, he went down to the pier. At +Yokohama there are no long lines of wharves. The shipping lies out at +anchor, enabling a few hundred of the short-legged people to make a +livelihood by carrying passengers to and from the shore. +</p> +<p> +A dozen sampan men and boys hailed Alf and offered their services. He +selected the most favorable-looking one, an old and beneficent-appearing +man with a withered leg. Alf stepped into his sampan and sat down. +It was quite dark and he could not see what the old fellow was doing, +though he evidently was doing nothing about shoving off and getting +under way. At last he limped over and peered into Alf's face. +</p> +<p> +"Ten sen," he said. +</p> +<p> +"Yes, I know, ten sen," Alf answered carelessly. "But hurry up. American +schooner." +</p> +<p> +"Ten sen. You pay now," the old fellow insisted. +</p> +<p> +Alf felt himself grow hot all over at the hateful words "pay now." "You +take me to American schooner; then I pay," he said. +</p> +<p> +But the man stood up patiently before him, held out his hand, and said, +"Ten sen. You pay now." +</p> +<p> +Alf tried to explain. He had no money. He had lost his purse. But he +would pay. As soon as he got aboard the American schooner, then he would +pay. No; he would not even go aboard the American schooner. He would +call to his shipmates, and they would give the sampan man the ten sen +first. After that he would go aboard. So it was all right, of course. +</p> +<p> +To all of which the beneficent-appearing old man replied: "You pay now. +Ten sen." And, to make matters worse, the other sampan men squatted on +the pier steps, listening. +</p> +<p> +Alf, chagrined and angry, stood up to step ashore. But the old fellow +laid a detaining hand on his sleeve. "You give shirt now. I take you +'Merican schooner," he proposed. +</p> +<p> +Then it was that all of Alf's American independence flamed up in his +breast. The Anglo-Saxon has a born dislike of being imposed upon, and +to Alf this was sheer robbery! Ten sen was equivalent to six American +cents, while his shirt, which was of good quality and was new, had cost +him two dollars. +</p> +<p> +He turned his back on the man without a word, and went out to the end of +the pier, the crowd, laughing with great gusto, following at his heels. +The majority of them were heavy-set, muscular fellows, and the July +night being one of sweltering heat, they were clad in the least possible +raiment. The water-people of any race are rough and turbulent, and it +struck Alf that to be out at midnight on a pier-end with such a crowd of +wharfmen, in a big Japanese city, was not as safe as it might be. +</p> +<p> +One burly fellow, with a shock of black hair and ferocious eyes, came +up. The rest shoved in after him to take part in the discussion. +</p> +<p> +"Give me shoes," the man said. "Give me shoes now. I take you 'Merican +schooner." +</p> +<p> +Alf shook his head, whereat the crowd clamored that he accept the +proposal. Now the Anglo-Saxon is so constituted that to browbeat or +bully him is the last way under the sun of getting him to do any certain +thing. He will dare willingly, but he will not permit himself to be +driven. So this attempt of the boatmen to force Alf only aroused all the +dogged stubbornness of his race. The same qualities were in him that are +in men who lead forlorn hopes; and there, under the stars, on the lonely +pier, encircled by the jostling and shouldering gang, he resolved that +he would die rather than submit to the indignity of being robbed of a +single stitch of clothing. Not value, but principle, was at stake. +</p> +<p> +Then somebody thrust roughly against him from behind. He whirled about +with flashing eyes, and the circle involuntarily gave ground. But the +crowd was growing more boisterous. Each and every article of clothing he +had on was demanded by one or another, and these demands were shouted +simultaneously at the tops of very healthy lungs. +</p> +<p> +Alf had long since ceased to say anything, but he knew that the +situation was getting dangerous, and that the only thing left to him +was to get away. His face was set doggedly, his eyes glinted like points +of steel, and his body was firmly and confidently poised. This air of +determination sufficiently impressed the boatmen to make them give way +before him when he started to walk toward the shore-end of the pier. But +they trooped along beside him and behind him, shouting and laughing more +noisily than ever. One of the youngsters, about Alf's size and build, +impudently snatched his cap from his head; but before he could put it on +his own head, Alf struck out from the shoulder, and sent the fellow +rolling on the stones. +</p> +<p> +The cap flew out of his hand and disappeared among the many legs. Alf +did some quick thinking; his sailor pride would not permit him to leave +the cap in their hands. He followed in the direction it had sped, and +soon found it under the bare foot of a stalwart fellow, who kept his +weight stolidly upon it. Alf tried to get the cap out by a sudden jerk, +but failed. He shoved against the man's leg, but the man only grunted. +It was challenge direct, and Alf accepted it. Like a flash one leg was +behind the man and Alf had thrust strongly with his shoulder against the +fellow's chest. Nothing could save the man from the fierce vigorousness +of the trick, and he was hurled over and backward. +</p> +<p> +Next, the cap was on Alf's head and his fists were up before him. Then +he whirled about to prevent attack from behind, and all those in that +quarter fled precipitately. This was what he wanted. None remained +between him and the shore end. The pier was narrow. Facing them and +threatening with his fist those who attempted to pass him on either +side, he continued his retreat. It was exciting work, walking backward +and at the same time checking that surging mass of men. But the +dark-skinned peoples, the world over, have learned to respect the white +man's fist; and it was the battles fought by many sailors, more than his +own warlike front, that gave Alf the victory. +</p> +<p> +Where the pier adjoins the shore was the station of the harbor police, +and Alf backed into the electric-lighted office, very much to the +amusement of the dapper lieutenant in charge. The sampan men, grown +quiet and orderly, clustered like flies by the open door, through which +they could see and hear what passed. +</p> +<p> +Alf explained his difficulty in few words, and demanded, as the +privilege of a stranger in a strange land, that the lieutenant put him +aboard in the police-boat. The lieutenant, in turn, who knew all the +"rules and regulations" by heart, explained that the harbor police were +not ferrymen, and that the police-boats had other functions to perform +than that of transporting belated and penniless sailor-men to their +ships. He also said he knew the sampan men to be natural-born robbers, +but that so long as they robbed within the law he was powerless. It +was their right to collect fares in advance, and who was he to command +them to take a passenger and collect fare at the journey's end? Alf +acknowledged the justice of his remarks, but suggested that while he +could not command he might persuade. The lieutenant was willing to +oblige, and went to the door, from where he delivered a speech to the +crowd. But they, too, knew their rights, and, when the officer had +finished, shouted in chorus their abominable "Ten sen! You pay now! +You pay now!" +</p> +<p> +"You see, I can do nothing," said the lieutenant, who, by the way, spoke +perfect English. "But I have warned them not to harm or molest you, so +you will be safe, at least. The night is warm and half over. Lie down +somewhere and go to sleep. I would permit you to sleep here in the +office, were it not against the rules and regulations." +</p> +<p> +Alf thanked him for his kindness and courtesy; but the sampan men had +aroused all his pride of race and doggedness, and the problem could not +be solved that way. To sleep out the night on the stones was an +acknowledgment of defeat. +</p> +<p> +"The sampan men refuse to take me out?" +</p> +<p> +The lieutenant nodded. +</p> +<p> +"And you refuse to take me out?" +</p> +<p> +Again the lieutenant nodded. +</p> +<p> +"Well, then, it's not in the rules and regulations that you can prevent +my taking myself out?" +</p> +<p> +The lieutenant was perplexed. "There is no boat," he said. +</p> +<p> +"That's not the question," Alf proclaimed hotly. "If I take myself out, +everybody's satisfied and no harm done?" +</p> +<p> +"Yes; what you say is true," persisted the puzzled lieutenant. "But you +cannot take yourself out." +</p> +<p> +"You just watch me," was the retort. +</p> +<p> +Down went Alf's cap on the office floor. Right and left he kicked off +his low-cut shoes. Trousers and shirt followed. +</p> +<p> +"Remember," he said in ringing tones, "I, as a citizen of the United +States, shall hold you, the city of Yokohama, and the government of +Japan responsible for those clothes. Good night." +</p> +<p> +He plunged through the doorway, scattering the astounded boatmen to +either side, and ran out on the pier. But they quickly recovered and ran +after him, shouting with glee at the new phase the situation had taken +on. It was a night long remembered among the water-folk of Yokohama +town. Straight to the end Alf ran, and, without pause, dived off cleanly +and neatly into the water. He struck out with a lusty, single-overhand +stroke till curiosity prompted him to halt for a moment. Out of the +darkness, from where the pier should be, voices were calling to him. +</p> +<p> +He turned on his back, floated, and listened. +</p> +<p> +"All right! All right!" he could distinguish from the babel. "No pay +now; pay bime by! Come back! Come back now; pay bime by!" +</p> +<p> +"No, thank you," he called back. "No pay at all. Good night." +</p> +<p> +Then he faced about in order to locate the <i>Annie Mine</i>. She was +fully a mile away, and in the darkness it was no easy task to get her +bearings. First, he settled upon a blaze of lights which he knew nothing +but a man-of-war could make. That must be the United States war-ship +<i>Lancaster</i>. Somewhere to the left and beyond should be the +<i>Annie Mine.</i> But to the left he made out three lights close +together. That could not be the schooner. For the moment he was +confused. He rolled over on his back and shut his eyes, striving to +construct a mental picture of the harbor as he had seen it in daytime. +With a snort of satisfaction he rolled back again. The three lights +evidently belonged to the big English tramp steamer. Therefore the +schooner must lie somewhere between the three lights and the +<i>Lancaster</i>. He gazed long and steadily, and there, very dim and +low, but at the point he expected, burned a single light—the +anchor-light of the <i>Annie Mine</i>. +</p> +<p> +And it was a fine swim under the starshine. The air was warm as the +water, and the water as warm as tepid milk. The good salt taste of it +was in his mouth, the tingling of it along his limbs; and the steady +beat of his heart, heavy and strong, made him glad for living. +</p> +<p> +But beyond being glorious the swim was uneventful. On the right hand he +passed the many-lighted <i>Lancaster</i>, on the left hand the English +tramp, and ere long the <i>Annie Mine</i> loomed large above him. He +grasped the hanging rope-ladder and drew himself noiselessly on deck. +There was no one in sight. He saw a light in the galley, and knew that +the captain's son, who kept the lonely anchor-watch, was making coffee. +Alf went forward to the forecastle. The men were snoring in their bunks, +and in that confined space the heat seemed to him insufferable. So he +put on a thin cotton shirt and a pair of dungaree trousers, tucked +blanket and pillow under his arm, and went up on deck and out on the +fore-castle-head. +</p> +<p> +Hardly had he begun to doze when he was roused by a boat coming +alongside and hailing the anchor-watch. It was the police-boat, and to +Alf it was given to enjoy the excited conversation that ensued. Yes, the +captain's son recognized the clothes. They belonged to Alf Davis, one of +the seamen. What had happened? No; Alf Davis had not come aboard. He +was ashore. He was not ashore? Then he must be drowned. Here both the +lieutenant and the captain's son talked at the same time, and Alf could +make out nothing. Then he heard them come forward and rouse out the +crew. The crew grumbled sleepily and said that Alf Davis was not in the +forecastle; whereupon the captain's son waxed indignant at the Yokohama +police and their ways, and the lieutenant quoted rules and regulations +in despairing accents. +</p> +<p> +Alf rose up from the forecastle-head and extended his hand, saying: +</p> +<p> +"I guess I'll take those clothes. Thank you for bringing them aboard so +promptly." +</p> +<p> +"I don't see why he couldn't have brought you aboard inside of them," +said the captain's son. +</p> +<p> +And the police lieutenant said nothing, though he turned the clothes +over somewhat sheepishly to their rightful owner. +</p> +<p> +The next day, when Alf started to go ashore, he found himself surrounded +by shouting and gesticulating, though very respectful, sampan men, all +extraordinarily anxious to have him for a passenger. Nor did the one +he selected say, "You pay now," when he entered his boat. "When Alf +prepared to step out on to the pier, he offered the man the customary +ten sen. But the man drew himself up and shook his head. +</p> +<p> +"You all right," he said. "You no pay. You never no pay. You bully boy +and all right." +</p> +<p> +And for the rest of the <i>Annie Mine's</i> stay in port, the sampan men +refused money at Alf Davis's hand. Out of admiration for his pluck and +independence, they had given him the freedom of the harbor. +</p> +<a name="h2H_4_0012" id="h2H_4_0012"><!-- H2 anchor --></a> + +<div style="height: 4em;"><br /><br /><br /><br /></div> + +<h2> + WHOSE BUSINESS IS TO LIVE +</h2> +<p> +Stanton Davies and Jim Wemple ceased from their talk to listen to an +increase of uproar in the street. A volley of stones thrummed and boomed +the wire mosquito nettings that protected the windows. It was a hot +night, and the sweat of the heat stood on their faces as they listened. +Arose the incoherent clamor of the mob, punctuated by individual cries +in Mexican-Spanish. Least terrible among the obscene threats were: +"Death to the Gringos!" "Kill the American pigs!" "Drown the American +dogs in the sea!" +</p> +<p> +Stanton Davies and Jim Wemple shrugged their shoulders patiently to each +other, and resumed their conversation, talking louder in order to make +themselves heard above the uproar. +</p> +<p> +"The question is <i>how</i>," Wemple said. "It's forty-seven miles to +Panuco, by river——" +</p> +<p> +"And the land's impossible, with Zaragoza's and Villa's men on the loot +and maybe fraternizing," Davies agreed. +</p> +<p> +Wemple nodded and continued: "And she's at the East Coast Magnolia, two +miles beyond, if she isn't back at the hunting camp. We've got to get +her——" +</p> +<p> +"We've played pretty square in this matter, Wemple," Davies said. "And +we might as well speak up and acknowledge what each of us knows the +other knows. You want her. I want her." +</p> +<p> +Wemple lighted a cigarette and nodded. +</p> +<p> +"And now's the time when it's up to us to make a show as if we didn't +want her and that all we want is just to save her and get her down +here." +</p> +<p> +"And a truce until we do save her—I get you," Wempel affirmed. +</p> +<p> +"A truce until we get her safe and sound back here in Tampico, or aboard +a battleship. After that? ..." +</p> +<p> +Both men shrugged shoulders and beamed on each other as their hands met +in ratification. +</p> +<p> +Fresh volleys of stones thrummed against the wire-screened windows; a +boy's voice rose shrilly above the clamor, proclaiming death to the +Gringos; and the house reverberated to the heavy crash of some battering +ram against the street-door downstairs. Both men, snatching up automatic +rifles, ran down to where their fire could command the threatened door. +</p> +<p> +"If they break in we've got to let them have it," Wemple said. +</p> +<p> +Davies nodded quiet agreement, then inconsistently burst out with a +lurid string of oaths. +</p> +<p> +"To think of it!" he explained his wrath. "One out of three of those +curs outside has worked for you or me—lean-bellied, barefooted, +poverty-stricken, glad for ten centavos a day if they could only get +work. And we've given them steady jobs and a hundred and fifty centavos +a a day, and here they are yelling for our blood." +</p> +<p> +"Only the half breeds," Davies corrected. +</p> +<p> +"You know what I mean," Wemple replied. "The only peons we've lost are +those that have been run off or shot." +</p> +<p> +The attack on the door ceasing, they returned upstairs. Half a dozen +scattered shots from farther along the street seemed to draw away the +mob, for the neighborhood became comparatively quiet. +</p> +<p> +A whistle came to them through the open windows, and a man's voice +calling: +</p> +<p> +"Wemple! Open the door! It's Habert! Want to talk to you!" +</p> +<p> +Wemple went down, returning in several minutes with a tidily-paunched, +well-built, gray-haired American of fifty. He shook hands with Davies +and flung himself into a chair, breathing heavily. He did not relinquish +his clutch on the Colt's 44 automatic pistol, although he immediately +addressed himself to the task of fishing a filled clip of cartridges +from the pocket of his linen coat. He had arrived hatless and +breathless, and the blood from a stone-cut on the cheek oozed down his +face. He, too, in a fit of anger, springing to his feet when he had +changed clips in his pistol, burst out with mouth-filling profanity. +</p> +<p> +"They had an American flag in the dirt, stamping and spitting on it. And +they told me to spit on it." +</p> +<p> +Wemple and Davies regarded him with silent interrogation. +</p> +<p> +"Oh, I know what you're wondering!" he flared out. "Would I a-spit on it +in the pinch? That's what's eating you. I'll answer. Straight out, brass +tacks, I WOULD. Put that in your pipe and smoke it." +</p> +<p> +He paused to help himself to a cigar from the box on the table and to +light it with a steady and defiant hand. +</p> +<p> +"Hell!—I guess this neck of the woods knows Anthony Habert, and you can +bank on it that it's never located his yellow streak. Sure, in the +pinch, I'd spit on Old Glory. What the hell d'ye think I'm going on the +streets for a night like this? Didn't I skin out of the Southern Hotel +half an hour ago, where there are forty buck Americans, not counting +their women, and all armed? That was safety. What d'ye think I came here +for?—to rescue you?" +</p> +<p> +His indignation lumped his throat into silence, and he seemed shaken as +with an apoplexy. +</p> +<p> +"Spit it out," Davies commanded dryly. +</p> +<p> +"I'll tell you," Habert exploded. "It's Billy Boy. Fifty miles up +country and twenty-thousand throat-cutting federals and rebels between +him and me. D'ye know what that boy'd do, if he was here in Tampico and +I was fifty miles up the Panuco? Well, I know. And I'm going to do the +same—go and get him." +</p> +<p> +"We're figuring on going up," Wemple assured him. +</p> +<p> +"And that's why I headed here—Miss Drexel, of course?" +</p> +<p> +Both men acquiesced and smiled. It was a time when men dared speak of +matters which at other times tabooed speech. +</p> +<p> +"Then the thing's to get started," Habert exclaimed, looking at his +watch. "It's midnight now. We've got to get to the river and get a +boat—" +</p> +<p> +But the clamor of the returning mob came through the windows in answer. +</p> +<p> +Davies was about to speak, when the telephone rang, and Wemple sprang to +the instrument. +</p> +<p> +"It's Carson," he interjected, as he listened. "They haven't cut the +wires across the river yet.—Hello, Carson. Was it a break or a cut? ... +Bully for you.... Yes, move the mules across to the potrero beyond +Tamcochin.... Who's at the water station? ... Can you still 'phone +him? ... Tell him to keep the tanks full, and to shut off the main to +Arico. Also, to hang on till the last minute, and keep a horse saddled +to cut and run for it. Last thing before he runs, he must jerk out the +'phone.... Yes, yes, yes. Sure. No breeds. Leave full-blooded Indians in +charge. Gabriel is a good <i>hombre</i>. Heaven knows, once we're chased +out, when we'll get back.... You can't pinch down Jaramillo under +twenty-five hundred barrels. We've got storage for ten days. Gabriel'll +have to handle it. Keep it moving, if we have to run it into the +river——" +</p> +<p> +"Ask him if he has a launch," Habert broke in. +</p> +<p> +"He hasn't," was Wemple's answer. "The federals commandeered the last +one at noon." +</p> +<p> +"Say, Carson, how are you going to make your get-away?" Wemple queried. +</p> +<p> +The man to whom he talked was across the Panuco, on the south side, at +the tank farm. +</p> +<p> +"Says there isn't any get-away," Wemple vouchsafed to the other two. +"The federals are all over the shop, and he can't understand why they +haven't raided him hours ago." +</p> +<p> +"... Who? Campos? That skunk! ... all right.... Don't be worried if you +don't hear from me. I'm going up river with Davies and Habert.... Use +your judgment, and if you get a safe chance at Campos, pot him.... Oh, +a hot time over here. They're battering our doors now. Yes, by all +means ... Good-by, old man." +</p> +<p> +Wemple lighted a cigarette and wiped his forehead. +</p> +<p> +"You know Campos, JosĂ© H. Campos," he +volunteered. "The dirty cur's stuck Carson up +for twenty thousand pesos. We had to pay, +or he'd have compelled half our peons to enlist +or set the wells on fire. And you know, +Davies, what we've done for him in past years. +Gratitude? Simple decency? Great Scott!" +</p> +<hr /> +<p> +It was the night of April twenty-first. On the morning of the +twenty-first the American marines and bluejackets had landed at Vera +Cruz and seized the custom house and the city. Immediately the news was +telegraphed, the vengeful Mexican mob had taken possession of the +streets of Tampico and expressed its disapproval of the action of the +United States by tearing down American flags and crying death to the +Americans. +</p> +<p> +There was nothing save its own spinelessness to deter the mob from +carrying out its threat. Had it battered down the doors of the Southern +Hotel, or of other hotels, or of residences such as Wemple's, a fight +would have started in which the thousands of federal soldiers in Tampico +would have joined their civilian compatriots in the laudable task of +decreasing the Gringo population of that particular portion of Mexico. +There should have been American warships to act as deterrents; but +through some inexplicable excess of delicacy, or strategy, or heaven +knows what, the United States, when it gave its orders to take Vera +Cruz, had very carefully withdrawn its warships from Tampico to the open +Gulf a dozen miles away. This order had come to Admiral Mayo by wireless +from Washington, and thrice he had demanded the order to be repeated, +ere, with tears in his eyes, he had turned his back on his countrymen +and countrywomen and steamed to sea. +</p> +<hr /> +<p> +"Of all asinine things, to leave us in the lurch this way!" Habert was +denouncing the powers that be of his country. "Mayo'd never have done +it. Mark my words, he had to take program from Washington. And here we +are, and our dear ones scattered for fifty miles back up country.... +Say, if I lose Billy Boy I'll never dare go home to face the wife.—Come +on. Let the three of us make a start. We can throw the fear of God into +any gang on the streets." +</p> +<p> +"Come on over and take a squint," Davies invited from where he stood, +somewhat back from the window, looking down into the street. +</p> +<p> +It was gorged with rioters, all haranguing, cursing, crying out death, +and urging one another to smash the doors, but each hanging back from +the death he knew waited behind those doors for the first of the rush. +</p> +<p> +"We can't break through a bunch like that, Habert," was Davies' comment. +</p> +<p> +"And if we die under their feet we'll be of little use to Billy Boy or +anybody else up the Panuco," Wemple added. "And if——" +</p> +<p> +A new movement of the mob caused him to break off. It was splitting +before a slow and silent advance of a file of white-clad men. +</p> +<p> +"Bluejackets—Mayo's come back for us after all," Habert muttered. +</p> +<p> +"Then we can get a navy launch," Davies said. +</p> +<p> +The bedlam of the mob died away, and, in silence, the sailors reached +the street door and knocked for admittance. All three went down to open +it, and to discover that the callers were not Americans but two German +lieutenants and half a dozen German marines. At sight of the Americans, +the rage of the mob rose again, and was quelled by the grounding of the +rifle butts of the marines. +</p> +<p> +"No, thank you," the senior lieutenant, in passable English, declined +the invitation to enter. He unconcernedly kept his cigar alive at such +times that the mob drowned his voice. "We are on the way back to our +ship. Our commander conferred with the English and Dutch commanders; but +they declined to cooperate, so our commander has undertaken the entire +responsibility. We have been the round of the hotels. They are to hold +their own until daybreak, when we'll take them off. We have given them +rockets such as these.—Take them. If your house is entered, hold your +own and send up a rocket from the roof. We can be here in force, in +forty-five minutes. Steam is up in all our launches, launch crews and +marines for shore duty are in the launches, and at the first rocket we +shall start." +</p> +<p> +"Since you are going aboard now, we should like to go with you," Davies +said, after having rendered due thanks. +</p> +<p> +The surprise and distaste on both lieutenants' faces was patent. +</p> +<p> +"Oh, no," Davies laughed. "We don't want refuge. We have friends fifty +miles up river, and we want to get to the river in order to go up after +them." +</p> +<p> +The pleasure on the officers' faces was immediate as they looked a +silent conference at each other. +</p> +<p> +"Since our commander has undertaken grave responsibility on a night like +this, may we do less than take minor responsibility?" queried the elder. +</p> +<p> +To this the younger heartily agreed. In a trice, upstairs and down +again, equipped with extra ammunition, extra pistols, and a +pocket-bulging supply of cigars, cigarettes and matches, the three +Americans were ready. Wemple called last instructions up the stairway to +imaginary occupants being left behind, ascertained that the spring lock +was on, and slammed the door. +</p> +<p> +The officers led, followed by the Americans, the rear brought up by the +six marines; and the spitting, howling mob, not daring to cast a stone, +gave way before them. +</p> +<hr /> +<p> +As they came alongside the gangway of the cruiser, they saw launches and +barges lying in strings to the boat-booms, filled with men, waiting for +the rocket signal from the beleaguered hotels. A gun thundered from +close at hand, up river, followed by the thunder of numerous guns and +the reports of many rifles fired very rapidly. +</p> +<p> +"Now what's the <i>Topila</i> whanging away at?" Habert complained, then +joined the others in gazing at the picture. +</p> +<p> +A searchlight, evidently emanating from the Mexican gunboat, was +stabbing the darkness to the middle of the river, where it played upon +the water. And across the water, the center of the moving circle of +light, flashed a long, lean speedboat. A shell burst in the air a +hundred feet astern of it. Somewhere, outside the light, other shells +were bursting in the water; for they saw the boat rocked by the waves +from the explosions. They could guess the whizzing of the rifle bullets. +</p> +<p> +But for only several minutes the spectacle lasted. Such was the speed of +the boat that it gained shelter behind the German, when the Mexican +gunboat was compelled to cease fire. The speedboat slowed down, turned +in a wide and heeling circle, and ranged up alongside the launch at the +gangway. +</p> +<p> +The lights from the gangway showed but one occupant, a tow-headed, +greasy-faced, blond youth of twenty, very lean, very calm, very much +satisfied with himself. +</p> +<p> +"If it ain't Peter Tonsburg!" Habert ejaculated, reaching out a hand to +shake. "Howdy, Peter, howdy. And where in hell are you hellbent for, +surging by the <i>Topila</i> in such scandalous fashion!" +</p> +<p> +Peter, a Texas-born Swede of immigrant parents, filled with the old +Texas traditions, greasily shook hands with Wemple and Davies as well, +saying "Howdy," as only the Texan born can say it. +</p> +<p> +"Me," he answered Habert. "I ain't hellbent nowhere exceptin' to get +away from the shell-fire. She's a caution, that <i>Topila</i>. Huh! but +I limbered 'em up some. I was goin' every inch of twenty-five. They was +like amateurs blazin' away at canvasback." +</p> +<p> +"Which <i>Chill</i> is it?" Wemple asked. +</p> +<p> +"<i>Chill II</i>," Peter answered. "It's all that's left. <i>Chill I</i> +a Greaser—you know 'm—Campos—commandeered this noon. I was runnin' +<i>Chill III</i> when they caught me at sundown. Made me come in under +their guns at the East Coast outfit, and fired me out on my neck. +</p> +<p> +"Now the boss'd gone over in this one to Tampico in the early evening, +and just about ten minutes ago I spots it landin' with a sousy bunch of +Federals at the East Coast, and swipes it back according. Where's the +boss? He ain't hurt, is he? Because I'm going after him." +</p> +<p> +"No, you're not, Peter," Davies said. "Mr. Frisbie is safe at the +Southern Hotel, all except a five-inch scalp wound from a brick that's +got him down with a splitting headache. He's safe, so you're going with +us, going to take us, I mean, up beyond Panuco town." +</p> +<p> +"Huh?—I can see myself," Peter retorted, wiping his greasy nose on a +wad of greasy cotton waste. "I got some cold. Besides, this +night-drivin' ain't good for my complexion." +</p> +<p> +"My boy's up there," Habert said. +</p> +<p> +"Well, he's bigger'n I am, and I reckon he can take care of himself." +</p> +<p> +"And there's a woman there—Miss Drexel," Davies said quietly. +</p> +<p> +"Who? Miss Drexel? Why didn't you say so at first!" Peter demanded +grievedly. He sighed and added, "Well, climb in an' make a start. Better +get your Dutch friends to donate me about twenty gallons of gasoline if +you want to get anywhere." +</p> +<hr /> +<p> +"Won't do you no good to lay low," Peter Tonsburg remarked, as, at full +speed, headed up river, the <i>Topila's</i> searchlight stabbed them. +"High or low, if one of them shells hits in the vicinity—<i>good +night</i>!" +</p> +<p> +Immediately thereafter the <i>Topila</i> erupted. The roar of the +<i>Chill's</i> exhaust nearly drowned the roar of the guns, but the +fragile hull of the craft was shaken and rocked by the bursting shells. +An occasional bullet thudded into or pinged off the <i>Chill</i>, and, +despite Peter's warning that, high or low, they were bound to get it if +it came to them, every man on board, including Peter, crouched, with +chest contracted by drawn-in shoulders, in an instinctive and purely +unconscious effort to lessen the area of body he presented as a target +or receptacle for flying fragments of steel. +</p> +<p> +The <i>Topila</i> was a federal gunboat. To complicate the affair, the +constitutionalists, gathered on the north shore in the siege of Tampico, +opened up on the speedboat with many rifles and a machine gun. +</p> +<p> +"Lord, I'm glad they're Mexicans, and not Americans," Habert observed, +after five mad minutes in which no damage had been received. "Mexicans +are born with guns in their hands, and they never learn to use them." +</p> +<p> +Nor was the <i>Chill</i> or any man aboard damaged when at last she +rounded the bend of river that shielded her from the searchlight. +</p> +<p> +"I'll have you in Panuco town in less'n three hours, ... if we don't hit +a log," Peter leaned back and shouted in Wemple's ear. "And if we do hit +driftwood, I'll have you in the swim quicker than that." +</p> +<p> +<i>Chill II</i> tore her way through the darkness, steered by the +tow-headed youth who knew every foot of the river and who guided his +course by the loom of the banks in the dim starlight. A smart breeze, +kicking up spiteful wavelets on the wider reaches, splashed them with +sheeted water as well as fine-flung spray. And, in the face of the +warmth of the tropic night, the wind, added to the speed of the boat, +chilled them through their wet clothes. +</p> +<p> +"Now I know why she was named the <i>Chill</i>," Habert observed betwixt +chattering teeth. +</p> +<p> +But conversation languished during the nearly three hours of drive +through the darkness. Once, by the exhaust, they knew that they passed +an unlighted launch bound down stream. And once, a glare of light, near +the south bank, as they passed through the Toreno field, aroused brief +debate as to whether it was the Toreno wells, or the bungalow on +Merrick's banana plantation that flared so fiercely. +</p> +<p> +At the end of an hour, Peter slowed down and ran in to the bank. +</p> +<p> +"I got a cache of gasoline here—ten gallons," he explained, "and it's +just as well to know it's here for the back trip." Without leaving the +boat, fishing arm-deep into the brush, he announced, "All hunky-dory." +He proceeded to oil the engine. "Huh!" he soliloquized for their +benefit. "I was just readin' a magazine yarn last night. 'Whose Business +Is to Die,' was its title. An' all I got to say is, 'The hell it is.' A +man's business is to live. Maybe you thought it was our business to die +when the <i>Topila</i> was pepper-in' us. But you was wrong. We're +alive, ain't we? We beat her to it. That's the game. Nobody's got any +business to die. I ain't never goin' to die, if I've got any say about +it." +</p> +<p> +He turned over the crank, and the roar and rush of the <i>Chill</i> put +an end to speech. +</p> +<p> +There was no need for Wemple or Davies to speak further in the affair +closest to their hearts. Their truce to love-making had been made as +binding as it was brief, and each rival honored the other with a firm +belief that he would commit no infraction of the truce. Afterward was +another matter. In the meantime they were one in the effort to get Beth +Drexel back to the safety of riotous Tampico or of a war vessel. +</p> +<p> +It was four o'clock when they passed by Panuco Town. Shouts and songs +told them that the federal detachment holding the place was celebrating +its indignation at the landing of American bluejackets in Vera Cruz. +Sentinels challenged the <i>Chill</i> from the shore and shot at random +at the noise of her in the darkness. +</p> +<p> +A mile beyond, where a lighted river steamer with steam up lay at the +north bank, they ran in at the Apshodel wells. The steamer was small, +and the nearly two hundred Americans—men, women, and children—crowded +her capacity. Blasphemous greetings of pure joy and geniality were +exchanged between the men, and Habert learned that the steamboat was +waiting for his Billy Boy, who, astride a horse, was rounding up +isolated drilling gangs who had not yet learned that the United States +had seized Vera Cruz and that all Mexico was boiling. +</p> +<p> +Habert climbed out to wait and to go down on the steamer, while the +three that remained on the <i>Chill</i>, having learned that Miss Drexel +was not with the refugees, headed for the Dutch Company on the south +shore. This was the big gusher, pinched down from one hundred and +eighty-five thousand daily barrels to the quantity the company +was able to handle. Mexico had no quarrel with Holland, so that the +superintendent, while up, with night guards out to prevent drunken +soldiers from firing his vast lakes of oil, was quite unemotional. Yes, +the last he had heard was that Miss Drexel and her brother were back at +the hunting lodge. No; he had not sent any warnings, and he doubted that +anybody else had. Not till ten o'clock the previous evening had he +learned of the landing at Vera Cruz. The Mexicans had turned nasty as +soon as they heard of it, and they had killed Miles Forman at the Empire +Wells, run off his labor, and looted the camp. Horses? No; he didn't +have horse or mule on the place. The federals had commandeered the last +animal weeks back. It was his belief, however, that there were a couple +of plugs at the lodge, too worthless even for the Mexicans to take. +</p> +<p> +"It's a hike," Davies said cheerfully. +</p> +<p> +"Six miles of it," Wemple agreed, equally cheerfully. "Let's beat it." +</p> +<p> +A shot from the river, where they had left Peter in the boat, started +them on the run for the bank. A scattering of shots, as from two rifles, +followed. And while the Dutch superintendent, in execrable Spanish, +shouted affirmations of Dutch neutrality into the menacing dark, across +the gunwale of <i>Chill II</i> they found the body of the tow-headed +youth whose business it had been not to die. +</p> +<hr /> +<p> +For the first hour, talking little, Davies and Wemple stumbled along the +apology for a road that led through the jungle to the lodge. They did +discuss the glares of several fires to the east along the south bank of +Panuco River, and hoped fervently that they were dwellings and not +wells. +</p> +<p> +"Two billion dollars worth of oil right here in the Ebaño field alone," +Davies grumbled. +</p> +<p> +"And a drunken Mexican, whose whole carcass and immortal soul aren't +worth ten pesos including hair, hide, and tallow, can start the bonfire +with a lighted wad of cotton waste," was Wemple's contribution. "And if +ever she starts, she'll gut the field of its last barrel." +</p> +<p> +Dawn, at five, enabled them to accelerate their pace; and six o'clock +found them routing out the occupants of the lodge. +</p> +<p> +"Dress for rough travel, and don't stop for any frills," Wemple called +around the corner of Miss Drexel's screened sleeping porch. +</p> +<p> +"Not a wash, nothing," Davies supplemented grimly, as he shook hands +with Charley Drexel, who yawned and slippered up to them in pajamas. +"Where are those horses, Charley? Still alive?" +</p> +<p> +Wemple finished giving orders to the sleepy peons to remain and care for +the place, occupying their spare time with hiding the more valuable +things, and was calling around the corner to Miss Drexel the news of the +capture of Vera Cruz, when Davies returned with the information that the +horses consisted of a pair of moth-eaten skates that could be depended +upon to lie down and die in the first half mile. +</p> +<p> +Beth Drexel emerged, first protesting that under no circumstances would +she be guilty of riding the creatures, and, next, her brunette skin and +dark eyes still flushed warm with sleep, greeting the two rescuers. +</p> +<p> +"It would be just as well if you washed your face, Stanton," she told +Davies; and, to Wemple: "You're just as bad, Jim. You are a pair of +dirty boys." +</p> +<p> +"And so will you be," Wemple assured her, "before you get back to +Tampico. Are you ready?" +</p> +<p> +"As soon as Juanita packs my hand bag." +</p> +<p> +"Heavens, Beth, don't waste time!" exclaimed Wemple. "Jump in and grab +up what you want." +</p> +<p> +"Make a start—make a start," chanted Davies. "Hustle! Hustle!—Charley, +get the rifle you like best and take it along. Get a couple for us." +</p> +<p> +"Is it as serious as that?" Miss Drexel queried. +</p> +<p> +Both men nodded. +</p> +<p> +"The Mexicans are tearing loose," Davies explained. "How they missed +this place I don't know." A movement in the adjoining room startled him. +"Who's that?" he cried. +</p> +<p> +"Why, Mrs. Morgan," Miss Drexel answered. +</p> +<p> +"Good heavens, Wemple, I'd forgotten <i>her</i>," groaned Davies. "How +will we ever get her anywhere?" +</p> +<p> +"Let Beth walk, and relay the lady on the nags." +</p> +<p> +"She weighs a hundred and eighty," Miss Drexel laughed. "Oh, hurry, +Martha! We're waiting on you to start!" +</p> +<p> +Muffled speech came through the partition, and then emerged a very +short, stout, much-flustered woman of middle age. +</p> +<p> +"I simply can't walk, and you boys needn't demand it of me," was her +plaint. "It's no use. I couldn't walk half a mile to save my life, and +it's six of the worst miles to the river." +</p> +<p> +They regarded her in despair. +</p> +<p> +"Then you'll ride," said Davies. "Come on, Charley. We'll get a saddle +on each of the nags." +</p> +<p> +Along the road through the tropic jungle, Miss Drexel and Juanita, +her Indian maid, led the way. Her brother, carrying the three rifles, +brought up the rear, while in the middle Davies and Wemple struggled +with Mrs. Morgan and the two decrepit steeds. One, a flea-bitten roan, +groaned continually from the moment Mrs. Morgan's burden was put upon +him till she was shifted to the other horse. And this other, a mangy +sorrel, invariably lay down at the end of a quarter of a mile of Mrs. +Morgan. +</p> +<p> +Miss Drexel laughed and joked and encouraged; and Wemple, in brutal +fashion, compelled Mrs. Morgan to walk every third quarter of a mile. +At the end of an hour the sorrel refused positively to get up, and, so, +was abandoned. Thereafter, Mrs. Morgan rode the roan alternate quarters +of miles, and between times walked—if <i>walk</i> may describe her +stumbling progress on two preposterously tiny feet with a man supporting +her on either side. +</p> +<p> +A mile from the river, the road became more civilized, running along the +side of a thousand acres of banana plantation. +</p> +<p> +"Parslow's," young Drexel said. "He'll lose a year's crop now on account +of this mix-up." +</p> +<p> +"Oh, look what I've found!" Miss Drexel called from the lead. +</p> +<p> +"First machine that ever tackled this road," was young Drexel's +judgment, as they halted to stare at the tire-tracks. +</p> +<p> +"But look at the tracks," his sister urged. "The machine must have come +right out of the bananas and climbed the bank." +</p> +<p> +"Some machine to climb a bank like that," was Davies' comment. "What it +did do was to go down the bank—take a scout after it, Charley, while +Wemple and I get Mrs. Morgan off her fractious mount. No machine ever +built could travel far through those bananas." +</p> +<p> +The flea-bitten roan, on its four legs upstanding, continued bravely to +stand until the lady was removed, whereupon, with a long sigh, it sank +down on the ground. Mrs. Morgan likewise sighed, sat down, and regarded +her tiny feet mournfully. +</p> +<p> +"Go on, boys," she said. "Maybe you can find something at the river and +send back for me." +</p> +<p> +But their indignant rejection of the plan never attained speech, for, at +that instant, from the green sea of banana trees beneath them, came the +sudden purr of an engine. A minute later the splutter of an exhaust told +them the silencer had been taken off. The huge-fronded banana trees were +violently agitated as by the threshing of a hidden Titan. They could +identify the changing of gears and the reversing and going ahead, until, +at the end of five minutes, a long low, black car burst from the wall of +greenery and charged the soft earth bank, but the earth was too soft, +and when, two-thirds of the way up, beaten, Charley Drexel braked the +car to a standstill, the earth crumbled from under the tires, and he ran +it down and back, the way he had come, until half-buried in the bananas. +</p> +<p> +"'A Merry Oldsmobile!'" Miss Drexel quoted from the popular song, +clapping her hands. "Now, Martha, your troubles are over." +</p> +<p> +"Six-cylinder, and sounds as if it hadn't been out of the shop a week, +or may I never ride in a machine again," Wemple remarked, looking to +Davies for confirmation. +</p> +<p> +Davies nodded. +</p> +<p> +"It's Allison's," he said. "Campos tried to shake him down for a private +loan, and—well, you know Allison. He told Campos to go to. And Campos, +in revenge, commandeered his new car. That was two days ago, before we +lifted a hand at Vera Cruz. Allison told me yesterday the last he'd +heard of the car it was on a steamboat bound up river. And here's where +they ditched it—but let's get a hustle on and get her into the +running." +</p> +<p> +Three attempts they made, with young Drexel at the wheel; but the soft +earth and the pitch of the grade baffled. +</p> +<p> +"She's got the power all right," young Drexel protested. "But she can't +bite into that mush." +</p> +<p> +So far, they had spread on the ground the robes found in the car. +The men now added their coats, and Wemple, for additional traction, +unsaddled the roan, and spread the cinches, stirrup leathers, saddle +blanket, and bridle in the way of the wheels. The car took the +treacherous slope in a rush, with churning wheels biting into the woven +fabrics; and, with no more than a hint of hesitation, it cleared the +crest and swung into the road. +</p> +<p> +"Isn't she the spunky devil!" Drexel exulted. "Say, she could climb the +side of a house if she could get traction." +</p> +<p> +"Better put on that silencer again, if you don't want to play tag with +every soldier in the district," Wemple ordered, as they helped Mrs. +Morgan in. +</p> +<p> +The road to the Dutch gusher compelled them to go through the outskirts +of Panuco town. Indian and half breed women gazed stolidly at the +strange vehicle, while the children and barking dogs clamorously +advertised its progress. Once, passing long lines of tethered federal +horses, they were challenged by a sentry; but at Wemple's "Throw on the +juice!" the car took the rutted road at fifty miles an hour. A shot +whistled after them. But it was not the shot that made Mrs. Morgan +scream. The cause was a series of hog-wallows masked with mud, which +nearly tore the steering wheel from Drexel's hands before he could +reduce speed. +</p> +<p> +"Wonder it didn't break an axle," Davies growled. "Go on and take it +easy, Charley. We're past any interference." +</p> +<p> +They swung into the Dutch camp and into the beginning of their real +troubles. The refugee steamboat had departed down river from the +Asphodel camp; <i>Chill II</i> had disappeared, the superintendent knew +not how, along with the body of Peter Tonsburg; and the superintendent +was dubious of their remaining. +</p> +<p> +"I've got to consider the owners," he told them. "This is the biggest +well in Mexico, and you know it—a hundred and eighty-five thousand +barrels daily flow. I've no right to risk it. We have no trouble with +the Mexicans. It's you Americans. If you stay here, I'll have to protect +you. And I can't protect you, anyway. We'll all lose our lives and +they'll destroy the well in the bargain. And if they fire it, it means +the entire Ebaño oil field. The strata's too broken. We're flowing +twenty thousand barrels now, and we can't pinch down any further. As it +is, the oil's coming up outside the pipe. And we can't have a fight. +We've got to keep the oil moving." +</p> +<p> +The men nodded. It was cold-blooded logic; but there was no fault to it. +</p> +<p> +The harassed expression eased on the superintendent's face, and he +almost beamed on them for agreeing with him. +</p> +<p> +"You've got a good machine there," he continued. "The ferry's at the +bank at Panuco, and once you're across, the rebels aren't so thick on +the north shore. Why, you can beat the steamboat back to Tampico by +hours. And it hasn't rained for days. The road won't be at all bad." +</p> +<hr /> +<p> +"Which is all very good," Davies observed to Wemple as they approached +Panuco, "except for the fact that the road on the other side was never +built for automobiles, much less for a long-bodied one like this. I wish +it were the Four instead of the Six." +</p> +<p> +"And it would bother you with a Four to negotiate that hill at Aliso +where the road switchbacks above the river." +</p> +<p> +"And we're going to do it with a Six or lose a perfectly good Six in +trying," Beth Drexel laughed to them. +</p> +<p> +Avoiding the cavalry camp, they entered Panuco with all the speed the +ruts permitted, swinging dizzy corners to the squawking of chickens and +barking of dogs. To gain the ferry, they had to pass down one side of +the great plaza which was the heart of the city. Peon soldiers, drowsing +in the sun or clustering around the <i>cantinas</i>, stared stupidly at +them as they flashed past. Then a drunken major shouted a challenge from +the doorway of a <i>cantina</i> and began vociferating orders, and as +they left the plaza behind they could hear rising the familiar mob-cry +"<i>Kill the Gringoes!</i>" +</p> +<p> +"If any shooting begins, you women get down in the bottom of the car," +Davies commanded. "And there's the ferry all right. Be careful, +Charley." +</p> +<p> +The machine plunged directly down the bank through a cut so deep that it +was more like a chute, struck the gangplank with a terrific bump, and +seemed fairly to leap on board. The ferry was scarcely longer than the +machine, and Drexel, visibly shaken by the closeness of the shave, +managed to stop only when six inches remained between the front wheels +and overboard. +</p> +<p> +It was a cable ferry, operated by gasoline, and, while Wemple cast off +the mooring lines, Davies was making swift acquaintance with the engine. +The third turn-over started it, and he threw it into gear with the +windlass that began winding up the cable from the river's bottom. +</p> +<p> +By the time they were in midstream a score of horsemen rode out on the +bank they had just left and opened a scattering fire. The party crowded +in the shelter of the car and listened to the occasional richochet of a +bullet. Once, only, the car was struck. +</p> +<p> +"Here!—what are you up to!" Wemple demanded suddenly of Drexel, who had +exposed himself to fish a rifle out of the car. +</p> +<p> +"Going to show the skunks what shooting is," was his answer. +</p> +<p> +"No, you don't," Wemple said. "We're not here to fight, but to get +this party to Tampico." He remembered Peter Tonsburg's remark. "Whose +business is to live, Charley—that's our business. Anybody can get +killed. It's too easy these days." +</p> +<p> +Still under fire, they moored at the north shore, and when Davies had +tossed overboard the igniter from the ferry engine and commandeered ten +gallons of its surplus gasoline, they took the steep, soft road up the +bank in a rush. +</p> +<p> +"Look at her climb," Drexel uttered gleefully. "That Aliso hill won't +bother us at all. She'll put a crimp in it, that's what she'll do." +</p> +<p> +"It isn't the hill, it's the sharp turn of the zig-zag that's liable to +put a crimp in her," Davies answered. "That road was never laid out for +autos, and no auto has ever been over it. They steamboated this one up." +</p> +<p> +But trouble came before Aliso was reached. Where the road dipped +abruptly into a small jag of hollow that was almost V-shaped, it arose +out and became a hundred yards of deep sand. In order to have speed left +for the sand after he cleared the stiff up-grade of the V, Drexel was +compelled to hit the trough of the V with speed. Wemple clutched Miss +Drexel as she was on the verge of being bounced out. Mrs. Morgan, too +solid for such airiness, screamed from the pain of the bump; and even +the imperturbable Juanita fell to crossing herself and uttering prayers +with exceeding rapidity. +</p> +<p> +The car cleared the crest and encountered the sand, going slower from +moment to moment, slewing and writhing and squirming from side to side. +The men leaped out and began shoving. Miss Drexel urged Juanita out and +followed. But the car came to a standstill, and Drexel, looking back and +pointing, showed the first sign of being beaten. Two things he pointed +to: a constitutional soldier on horseback a quarter of a mile in the +rear; and a portion of the narrow road that had fallen out bodily on the +far slope of the V. +</p> +<p> +"Can't get at this sand unless we go back and try over, and we ditch the +car if we try to back up that." +</p> +<p> +The ditch was a huge natural sump-hole, the stagnant surface of which +was a-crawl with slime twenty feet beneath. +</p> +<p> +Davies and Wemple sprang to take the boy's place. +</p> +<p> +"You can't do it," he urged. "You can get the back wheels past, but +right there you hit that little curve, and if you make it your front +wheel will be off the bank. If you don't make it, your back wheel'll be +off." +</p> +<p> +Both men studied it carefully, then looked at each other. +</p> +<p> +"We've got to," said Davies. +</p> +<p> +"And we're going to," Wemple said, shoving his rival aside in comradely +fashion and taking the post of danger at the wheel. "You're just as good +as I at the wheel, Davies," he explained. "But you're a better shot. +Your job's cut out to go back and hold off any Greasers that show up." +</p> +<p> +Davies took a rifle and strolled back with so ominous an air that the +lone cavalryman put spurs to his horse and fled. Mrs. Morgan was helped +out and sent plodding and tottering unaided on her way to the end of the +sand stretch. Miss Drexel and Juanita joined Charley in spreading the +coats and robes on the sand and in gathering and spreading small +branches, brush, and armfuls of a dry, brittle shrub. But all three +ceased from their exertions to watch Wemple as he shot the car backward +down the V and up. The car seemed first to stand on one end, then on the +other, and to reel drunkenly and to threaten to turn over into the +sump-hole when its right front wheel fell into the air where the road +had ceased to be. But the hind wheels bit and climbed the grade and out. +</p> +<p> +Without pause, gathering speed down the perilous slope, Wemple came +ahead and up, gaining fifty feet of sand over the previous failure. More +of the alluvial soil of the road had dropped out at the bad place; but +he took the V in reverse, overhung the front wheel as before, and from +the top came ahead again. Four times he did this, gaining each time, but +each time knocking a bigger hole where the road fell out, until Miss +Drexel begged him not to try again. +</p> +<p> +He pointed to a squad of horsemen coming at a gallop along the road a +mile in the rear, and took the V once again in reverse. +</p> +<p> +"If only we had more stuff," Drexel groaned to his sister, as he threw +down a meager, hard-gathered armful of the dry and brittle shrub, and as +Wemple once more, with rush and roar, shot down the V. +</p> +<p> +For an instant it seemed that the great car would turn over into the +sump, but the next instant it was past. It struck the bottom of the +hollow a mighty wallop, and bounced and upended to the steep pitch of +the climb. Miss Drexel, seized by inspiration or desperation, with a +quick movement stripped off her short, corduroy tramping-skirt, and, +looking very lithe and boyish in slender-cut pongee bloomers, ran along +the sand and dropped the skirt for a foothold for the slowly revolving +wheels. Almost, but not quite, did the car stop, then, gathering way, +with the others running alongside and shoving, it emerged on the hard +road. +</p> +<p> +While they tossed the robes and coats and Miss Drexel's skirt into the +bottom of the car and got Mrs. Morgan on board, Davies overtook them. +</p> +<p> +"Down on the bottom!—all of you!" he shouted, as he gained the running +board and the machine sprang away. A scattering of shots came from the +rear. +</p> +<p> +"Whose business is to live!—hunch down!" Davies yelled in Wemple's ear, +accompanying the instruction with an open-handed blow on the shoulder. +</p> +<p> +"Live yourself," Wemple grumbled as he obediently hunched. "Get your +head down. You're exposing yourself." +</p> +<p> +The pursuit lasted but a little while, and died away in an occasional +distant shot. +</p> +<p> +"They've quit," Davies announced. "It never entered their stupid heads +that they could have caught us on Aliso Hill." +</p> +<hr /> +<p> +"It can't be done," was Charley Drexel's quick judgment of youth, as the +machine stopped and they surveyed the acute-angled turn on the stiff +up-grade of Aliso. Beneath was the swift-running river. +</p> +<p> +"Get out everybody!" Wemple commanded. "Up-side, all of you, if you +don't want the car to turn over on you. Spread traction wherever she +needs it." +</p> +<p> +"Shoot her ahead, or back—she can't stop," Davies said quietly, from +the outer edge of the road, where he had taken position. "The earth's +crumbling away from under the tires every second she stands still." +</p> +<p> +"Get out from under, or she'll be on top of you," Wemple ordered, as he +went ahead several yards. +</p> +<p> +But again, after the car rested a minute, the light, dry earth began to +crack and crumble away from under the tires, rolling in a miniature +avalanche down the steep declivity into the water. And not until Wemple +had backed fifty yards down the narrow road did he find solid resting +for the car. He came ahead on foot and examined the acute angle formed +by the two zig-zags. Together with Davies he planned what was to be +done. +</p> +<p> +"When you come you've got to come a-humping," Davies advised. "If you +stop anywhere for more than seconds, it's good night, and the walking +won't be fine." +</p> +<p> +"She's full of fight, and she can do it. See that hard formation right +there on the inside wall. It couldn't have come at a better spot. If I +don't make her hind wheels climb half way up it, we'll start walking +about a second thereafter." +</p> +<p> +"She's a two-fisted piece of machinery," Davies encouraged. "I know her +kind. If she can't do it, no machine can that was ever made. Am I right, +Beth?" +</p> +<p> +"She's a regular, spunky she-devil," Miss Drexel laughed agreement. "And +so are the pair of you—er—of the male persuasion, I mean." +</p> +<p> +Miss Drexel had never seemed so fascinating to either of them as she was +then, in the excitement quite unconscious of her abbreviated costume, +her brown hair flying, her eyes sparkling, her lips smiling. Each man +caught the other in that moment's pause to look, and each man sighed to +the other and looked frankly into each other's eyes ere he turned to the +work at hand. +</p> +<p> +Wemple came up with his usual rush, but it was a gauged rush; and Davies +took the post of danger, the outside running board, where his weight +would help the broad tires to bite a little deeper into the treacherous +surface. If the road-edge crumbled away it was inevitable that he would +be caught under the car as it rolled over and down to the river. +</p> +<p> +It was ahead and reverse, ahead and reverse, with only the briefest of +pauses in which to shift the gears. Wemple backed up the hard formation +on the inside bank till the car seemed standing on end, rushed ahead +till the earth of the outer edge broke under the front tires and +splashed in the water. Davies, now off, and again on the running board +when needed, accompanied the car in its jerky and erratic progress, +tossing robes and coats under the tires, calling instructions to Drexel +similarly occupied on the other side, and warning Miss Drexel out of the +way. +</p> +<p> +"Oh, you Merry Olds, you Merry Olds, you Merry Olds," Wemple muttered +aloud, as if in prayer, as he wrestled the car about the narrow area, +gaining sometimes inches in pivoting it, sometimes fetching back up the +inner wall precisely at the spot previously attained, and, once, having +the car, with the surface of the roadbed under it, slide bodily and +sidewise, two feet down the road. +</p> +<p> +The clapping of Miss Drexel's hands was the first warning Davies +received that the feat was accomplished, and, swinging on to the running +board, he found the car backing in the straight-away up the next zig-zag +and Wemple still chanting ecstatically, "Oh, you Merry Olds, you Merry +Olds!" +</p> +<p> +There were no more grades nor zigzags between them and Tampico, but, so +narrow was the primitive road, two miles farther were backed before +space was found in which to turn around. One thing of importance +did lie between them and Tampico—namely the investing lines of the +constitutionalists. But here, at noon, fortune favored in the form of +three American soldiers of fortune, operators of machine guns, who had +fought the entire campaign with Villa from the beginning of the advance +from the Texan border. Under a white flag, Wemple drove the car across +the zone of debate into the federal lines, where good fortune, in the +guise of an ubiquitous German naval officer, again received them. +</p> +<p> +"I think you are nearly the only Americans left in Tampico," he told +them. "About all the rest are lying out in the Gulf on the different +warships. But at the Southern Hotel there are several, and the situation +seems quieter." +</p> +<p> +As they got out at the Southern, Davies laid his hand on the car and +murmured, "Good old girl!" Wemple followed suit. And Miss Drexel, +engaging both men's eyes and about to say something, was guilty of a +sudden moisture in her own eyes that made her turn to the car with a +caressing hand and repeat, "Good old girl!" +</p> + + +<div style="height: 3em;"><br /><br /><br /></div> + +<div>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 14449 ***</div> +</body> +</html> diff --git a/14449-h/images/frontis.jpg b/14449-h/images/frontis.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..0144acf --- /dev/null +++ b/14449-h/images/frontis.jpg diff --git a/LICENSE.txt b/LICENSE.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6312041 --- /dev/null +++ b/LICENSE.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11 @@ +This eBook, including all associated images, markup, improvements, +metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be +in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES. + +Procedures for determining public domain status are described in +the "Copyright How-To" at https://www.gutenberg.org. + +No investigation has been made concerning possible copyrights in +jurisdictions other than the United States. Anyone seeking to utilize +this eBook outside of the United States should confirm copyright +status under the laws that apply to them. diff --git a/README.md b/README.md new file mode 100644 index 0000000..48df389 --- /dev/null +++ b/README.md @@ -0,0 +1,2 @@ +Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for +eBook #14449 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/14449) diff --git a/old/14449-8.txt b/old/14449-8.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..f30b506 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/14449-8.txt @@ -0,0 +1,4125 @@ +The Project Gutenberg eBook, Dutch Courage and Other Stories, by Jack +London + + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + + + + +Title: Dutch Courage and Other Stories + +Author: Jack London + +Release Date: December 24, 2004 [eBook #14449] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + + +***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK DUTCH COURAGE AND OTHER STORIES*** + + +E-text prepared by David Garcia and the Project Gutenberg Online +Distributed Proofreading Team + + + +DUTCH COURAGE AND OTHER STORIES + +by + +JACK LONDON + +New York + +1924 + + + + + + + +[Illustration: JACK LONDON, SAILOR] + + + + +PREFACE + + +"I've never written a line that I'd be ashamed for my young daughters to +read, and I never shall write such a line!" + +Thus Jack London, well along in his career. And thus almost any +collection of his adventure stories is acceptable to young readers as +well as to their elders. So, in sorting over the few manuscripts still +unpublished in book form, while most of them were written primarily for +boys and girls, I do not hesitate to include as appropriate a tale such +as "Whose Business Is to Live." + +Number two of the present group, "Typhoon Off the Coast of Japan," is +the first story ever written by Jack London for publication. At the age +of seventeen he had returned from his deep-water voyage in the sealing +schooner _Sophie Sutherland_, and was working thirteen hours a day +for forty dollars a month in an Oakland, California, jute mill. The +_San Francisco Call_ offered a prize of twenty-five dollars for the +best written descriptive article. Jack's mother, Flora London, +remembering that I had excelled in his school "compositions," urged him +to enter the contest by recalling some happening of his travels. Grammar +school, years earlier, had been his sole disciplined education. But his +wide reading, worldly experience, and extraordinary powers of +observation and correlation, enabled him to command first prize. It is +notable that the second and third awards went to students at California +and Stanford universities. + +Jack never took the trouble to hunt up that old _San Francisco +Call_ of November 12, 1893; but when I came to write his biography, +"The Book of Jack London," I unearthed the issue, and the tale appears +intact in my English edition, published in 1921. And now, gathering +material for what will be the final Jack London collections, I cannot +but think that his first printed story will have unusual interest for +his readers of all ages. + +The boy Jack's unexpected success in that virgin venture naturally +spurred him to further effort. It was, for one thing, the pleasantest +way he had ever earned so much money, even if it lacked the element of +physical prowess and danger that had marked those purple days with the +oyster pirates, and, later, equally exciting passages with the Fish +Patrol. He only waited to catch up on sleep lost while hammering out +"Typhoon Off the Coast of Japan," before applying himself to new +fiction. That was what was the matter with it: it was sheer fiction in +place of the white-hot realism of the "true story" that had brought him +distinction. This second venture he afterward termed "gush." It was +promptly rejected by the editor of the _Call_. Lacking experience +in such matters, Jack could not know why. And it did not occur to him to +submit his manuscript elsewhere. His fire was dampened; he gave over +writing and continued with the jute mill and innocent social diversion +in company with Louis Shattuck and his friends, who had superseded +Jack's wilder comrades and hazards of bay- and sea-faring. This period, +following the publication of "Typhoon Off the Coast of Japan," is +touched upon in his book "John Barleycorn." + +The next that one hears of attempts at writing is when, during his +tramping episode, he showed some stories to his aunt, Mrs. Everhard, in +St. Joseph, Michigan. And in the ensuing months of that year, 1894, she +received other romances mailed at his stopping places along the eastward +route, alone or with Kelly's Industrial Army. As yet it had not sunk +into his consciousness that his unyouthful knowledge of life in the raw +would be the means of success in literature; therefore he discoursed of +imaginary things and persons, lords and ladies, days of chivalry and +what not--anything but out of his priceless first-hand lore. At the same +time, however, he kept a small diary which, in the days when he had +found himself, helped in visualizing his tramp life, in "The Road." + +The only out and out "juvenile" in the Jack London list prior to his +death is "The Cruise of the Dazzler," published in 1902. At that it is a +good and authentic maritime study of its kind, and not lacking in honest +thrills. "Tales of the Fish Patrol" comes next as a book for boys; but +the happenings told therein are perilous enough to interest many an +older reader. + +I am often asked which of his books have made the strongest appeal to +youth. The impulse is to answer that it depends upon the particular type +of youth. As example, there lies before me a letter from a friend: "Ruth +(she is eleven) has been reading every book of your husband's that she +can get hold of. She is crazy over the stories. I have bought nearly all +of them, but cannot find 'The Son of the Wolf,' 'Moon Face,' and +'Michael Brother of Jerry.' Will you tell me where I can order these?" I +have not yet learned Ruth's favorites; but I smile to myself at thought +of the re-reading she may have to do when her mind has more fully +developed. + +The youth of every country who read Jack London naturally turn to his +adventure stories--particularly "The Call of the Wild" and its companion +"White Fang," "The Sea Wolf," "The Cruise of the Snark," and my own +journal, "The Log of the Snark," and "Our Hawaii," "Smoke Bellew Tales," +"Adventure," "The Mutiny of the Elsinore," as well as "Before Adam," +"The Game," "The Abysmal Brute," "The Road," "Jerry of the Islands" and +its sequel "Michael Brother of Jerry." And because of the last named, +the youth of many lands are enrolling in the famous Jack London Club. +This was inspired by Dr. Francis H. Bowley, President of the +Massachusetts S.P.C.A. The Club expects no dues. Membership is automatic +through the mere promise to leave any playhouse during an animal +performance. The protest thereby registered is bound, in good time, to +do away with the abuses that attend animal training for show purposes. +"Michael Brother of Jerry" was written out of Jack London's heart of +love and head of understanding of animals, aided by a years'-long study +of the conditions of which he treats. Incidentally this book contains +one of the most charming bits of seafaring romance of the Southern Ocean +that he ever wrote. + +During the Great War, the English speaking soldiers called freely for +the foregoing novels, dubbing them "The Jacklondons"; and there was also +lively demand for "Burning Daylight," "The Scarlet Plague," "The Star +Rover," "The Little Lady of the Big House," "The Valley of the Moon," +and, because of its prophetic spirit, "The Iron Heel." There was +likewise a desire for the short-story collections, such as "The God of +His Fathers," "Children of the Frost," "The Faith of Men," "Love of +Life," "Lost Face," "When God Laughs," and later groups like "South Sea +Tales," "A Son of the Sun," "The Night Born," and "The House of Pride," +and a long list beside. + +But for the serious minded youth of America, Great Britain, and all +countries where Jack London's work has been translated--youth +considering life with a purpose--"Martin Eden" is the beacon. Passing +years only augment the number of messages that find their way to me from +near and far, attesting the worth to thoughtful boys and girls, young +men and women, of the author's own formative struggle in life and +letters as partially outlined in "Martin Eden." + +The present sheaf of young folk's stories were written during the latter +part of that battle for recognition, and my gathering of them inside +book covers is pursuant of his own intention at the time of his death on +November 22, 1916. + + CHARMIAN LONDON. + + Jack London Ranch, + Glen Ellen, Sonoma County, California. + August 1, 1922. + + + + +TABLE OF CONTENTS + + + DUTCH COURAGE + TYPHOON OFF THE COAST OF JAPAN + THE LOST POACHER + THE BANKS OF THE SACRAMENTO + CHRIS FARRINGTON: ABLE SEAMAN + TO REPEL BOARDERS + AN ADVENTURE IN THE UPPER SEA + BALD-FACE + IN YEDDO BAY + WHOSE BUSINESS IS TO LIVE + + + + +DUTCH COURAGE + + +"Just our luck!" + +Gus Lafee finished wiping his hands and sullenly threw the towel upon +the rocks. His attitude was one of deep dejection. The light seemed gone +out of the day and the glory from the golden sun. Even the keen mountain +air was devoid of relish, and the early morning no longer yielded its +customary zest. + +"Just our luck!" Gus repeated, this time avowedly for the edification of +another young fellow who was busily engaged in sousing his head in the +water of the lake. + +"What are you grumbling about, anyway?" Hazard Van Dorn lifted a +soap-rimmed face questioningly. His eyes were shut. "What's our luck?" + +"Look there!" Gus threw a moody glance skyward. "Some duffer's got ahead +of us. We've been scooped, that's all!" + +Hazard opened his eyes, and caught a fleeting glimpse of a white flag +waving arrogantly on the edge of a wall of rock nearly a mile above his +head. Then his eyes closed with a snap, and his face wrinkled +spasmodically. Gus threw him the towel, and uncommiseratingly watched +him wipe out the offending soap. He felt too blue himself to take stock +in trivialities. + +Hazard groaned. + +"Does it hurt--much?" Gus queried, coldly, without interest, as if it +were no more than his duty to ask after the welfare of his comrade. + +"I guess it does," responded the suffering one. + +"Soap's pretty strong, eh?--Noticed it myself." + +"'Tisn't the soap. It's--it's _that!_" He opened his reddened eyes +and pointed toward the innocent white little flag. "That's what hurts." + +Gus Lafee did not reply, but turned away to start the fire and begin +cooking breakfast. His disappointment and grief were too deep for +anything but silence, and Hazard, who felt likewise, never opened his +mouth as he fed the horses, nor once laid his head against their arching +necks or passed caressing fingers through their manes. The two boys were +blind, also, to the manifold glories of Mirror Lake which reposed at +their very feet. Nine times, had they chosen to move along its margin +the short distance of a hundred yards, could they have seen the sunrise +repeated; nine times, from behind as many successive peaks, could they +have seen the great orb rear his blazing rim; and nine times, had they +but looked into the waters of the lake, could they have seen the +phenomena reflected faithfully and vividly. But all the Titanic grandeur +of the scene was lost to them. They had been robbed of the chief +pleasure of their trip to Yosemite Valley. They had been frustrated in +their long-cherished design upon Half Dome, and hence were rendered +disconsolate and blind to the beauties and the wonders of the place. + +Half Dome rears its ice-scarred head fully five thousand feet above the +level floor of Yosemite Valley. In the name itself of this great rock +lies an accurate and complete description. Nothing more nor less is it +than a cyclopean, rounded dome, split in half as cleanly as an apple +that is divided by a knife. It is, perhaps, quite needless to state that +but one-half remains, hence its name, the other half having been carried +away by the great ice-river in the stormy time of the Glacial Period. In +that dim day one of those frigid rivers gouged a mighty channel from out +the solid rock. This channel to-day is Yosemite Valley. But to return to +the Half Dome. On its northeastern side, by circuitous trails and stiff +climbing, one may gain the Saddle. Against the slope of the Dome the +Saddle leans like a gigantic slab, and from the top of this slab, one +thousand feet in length, curves the great circle to the summit of the +Dome. A few degrees too steep for unaided climbing, these one thousand +feet defied for years the adventurous spirits who fixed yearning eyes +upon the crest above. + +One day, a couple of clear-headed mountaineers had proceeded to insert +iron eye-bolts into holes which they drilled into the rock every few +feet apart. But when they found themselves three hundred feet above the +Saddle, clinging like flies to the precarious wall with on either hand a +yawning abyss, their nerves failed them and they abandoned the +enterprise. So it remained for an indomitable Scotchman, one George +Anderson, finally to achieve the feat. Beginning where they had left +off, drilling and climbing for a week, he had at last set foot upon that +awful summit and gazed down into the depths where Mirror Lake reposed, +nearly a mile beneath. + +In the years which followed, many bold men took advantage of the huge +rope ladder which he had put in place; but one winter ladder, cables and +all were carried away by the snow and ice. True, most of the eye-bolts, +twisted and bent, remained. But few men had since essayed the hazardous +undertaking, and of those few more than one gave up his life on the +treacherous heights, and not one succeeded. + +But Gus Lafee and Hazard Van Dorn had left the smiling valley-land of +California and journeyed into the high Sierras, intent on the great +adventure. And thus it was that their disappointment was deep and +grievous when they awoke on this morning to receive the forestalling +message of the little white flag. + +"Camped at the foot of the Saddle last night and went up at the first +peep of day," Hazard ventured, long after the silent breakfast had been +tucked away and the dishes washed. + +Gus nodded. It was not in the nature of things that a youth's spirits +should long remain at low ebb, and his tongue was beginning to loosen. + +"Guess he's down by now, lying in camp and feeling as big as Alexander," +the other went on. "And I don't blame him, either; only I wish it were +we." + +"You can be sure he's down," Gus spoke up at last. "It's mighty warm on +that naked rock with the sun beating down on it at this time of year. +That was our plan, you know, to go up early and come down early. And any +man, sensible enough to get to the top, is bound to have sense enough to +do it before the rock gets hot and his hands sweaty." + +"And you can be sure he didn't take his shoes with, him." Hazard rolled +over on his back and lazily regarded the speck of flag fluttering +briskly on the sheer edge of the precipice. "Say!" He sat up with a +start. "What's that?" + +A metallic ray of light flashed out from the summit of Half Dome, then a +second and a third. The heads of both boys were craned backward on the +instant, agog with excitement. + +"What a duffer!" Gus cried. "Why didn't he come down when it was cool?" + +Hazard shook his head slowly, as if the question were too deep for +immediate answer and they had better defer judgment. + +The flashes continued, and as the boys soon noted, at irregular +intervals of duration and disappearance. Now they were long, now short; +and again they came and went with great rapidity, or ceased altogether +for several moments at a time. + +"I have it!" Hazard's face lighted up with the coming of understanding. +"I have it! That fellow up there is trying to talk to us. He's flashing +the sunlight down to us on a pocket-mirror--dot, dash; dot, dash; don't +you see?" + +The light also began to break in Gus's face. "Ah, I know! It's what they +do in war-time--signaling. They call it heliographing, don't they? Same +thing as telegraphing, only it's done without wires. And they use the +same dots and dashes, too." + +"Yes, the Morse alphabet. Wish I knew it." + +"Same here. He surely must have something to say to us, or he wouldn't +be kicking up all that rumpus." + +Still the flashes came and went persistently, till Gus exclaimed: "That +chap's in trouble, that's what's the matter with him! Most likely he's +hurt himself or something or other." + +"Go on!" Hazard scouted. + +Gus got out the shotgun and fired both barrels three times in rapid +succession. A perfect flutter of flashes came back before the echoes had +ceased their antics. So unmistakable was the message that even doubting +Hazard was convinced that the man who had forestalled them stood in some +grave danger. + +"Quick, Gus," he cried, "and pack! I'll see to the horses. Our trip +hasn't come to nothing, after all. We've got to go right up Half Dome +and rescue him. Where's the map? How do we get to the Saddle?" + +"'Taking the horse-trail below the Vernal Falls,'" Gus read from the +guide-book, "'one mile of brisk traveling brings the tourist to the +world-famed Nevada Fall. Close by, rising up in all its pomp and glory, +the Cap of Liberty stands guard----" + +"Skip all that!" Hazard impatiently interrupted. "The trail's what we +want." + +"Oh, here it is! 'Following the trail up the side of the fall will bring +you to the forks. The left one leads to Little Yosemite Valley, Cloud's +Rest, and other points.'" + +"Hold on; that'll do! I've got it on the map now," again interrupted +Hazard. "From the Cloud's Rest trail a dotted line leads off to Half +Dome. That shows the trail's abandoned. We'll have to look sharp to find +it. It's a day's journey." + +"And to think of all that traveling, when right here we're at the bottom +of the Dome!" Gus complained, staring up wistfully at the goal. + +"That's because this is Yosemite, and all the more reason for us to +hurry. Come on! Be lively, now!" + +Well used as they were to trail life, but few minutes sufficed to see +the camp equipage on the backs of the packhorses and the boys in the +saddle. In the late twilight of that evening they hobbled their animals +in a tiny mountain meadow, and cooked coffee and bacon for themselves at +the very base of the Saddle. Here, also, before they turned into their +blankets, they found the camp of the unlucky stranger who was destined +to spend the night on the naked roof of the Dome. + +Dawn was brightening into day when the panting lads threw themselves +down at the summit of the Saddle and began taking off their shoes. +Looking down from the great height, they seemed perched upon the +ridgepole of the world, and even the snow-crowned Sierra peaks seemed +beneath them. Directly below, on the one hand, lay Little Yosemite +Valley, half a mile deep; on the other hand, Big Yosemite, a mile. +Already the sun's rays were striking about the adventurers, but the +darkness of night still shrouded the two great gulfs into which they +peered. And above them, bathed in the full day, rose only the majestic +curve of the Dome. + +"What's that for?" Gus asked, pointing to a leather-shielded flask which +Hazard was securely fastening in his shirt pocket. + +"Dutch courage, of course," was the reply. "We'll need all our nerve in +this undertaking, and a little bit more, and," he tapped the flask +significantly, "here's the little bit more." + +"Good idea," Gus commented. + +How they had ever come possessed of this erroneous idea, it would be +hard to discover; but they were young yet, and there remained for them +many uncut pages of life. Believers, also, in the efficacy of whisky as +a remedy for snake-bite, they had brought with them a fair supply of +medicine-chest liquor. As yet they had not touched it. + +"Have some before we start?" Hazard asked. + +Gus looked into the gulf and shook his head. "Better wait till we get up +higher and the climbing is more ticklish." + +Some seventy feet above them projected the first eye-bolt. The winter +accumulations of ice had twisted and bent it down till it did not stand +more than a bare inch and a half above the rock--a most difficult object +to lasso as such a distance. Time and again Hazard coiled his lariat in +true cowboy fashion and made the cast, and time and again was he baffled +by the elusive peg. Nor could Gus do better. Taking advantage of +inequalities in the surface, they scrambled twenty feet up the Dome and +found they could rest in a shallow crevice. The cleft side of the Dome +was so near that they could look over its edge from the crevice and gaze +down the smooth, vertical wall for nearly two thousand feet. It was yet +too dark down below for them to see farther. + +The peg was now fifty feet away, but the path they must cover to +get to it was quite smooth, and ran at an inclination of nearly fifty +degrees. It seemed impossible, in that intervening space, to find a +resting-place. Either the climber must keep going up, or he must slide +down; he could not stop. But just here rose the danger. The Dome was +sphere-shaped, and if he should begin to slide, his course would be, not +to the point from which he had started and where the Saddle would catch +him, but off to the south toward Little Yosemite. This meant a plunge of +half a mile. + +"I'll try it," Gus said simply. + +They knotted the two lariats together, so that they had over a hundred +feet of rope between them; and then each boy tied an end to his waist. + +"If I slide," Gus cautioned, "come in on the slack and brace yourself. +If you don't, you'll follow me, that's all!" + +"Ay, ay!" was the confident response. "Better take a nip before you +start?" + +Gus glanced at the proffered bottle. He knew himself and of what he was +capable. "Wait till I make the peg and you join me. All ready?" + +"Ay." + +He struck out like a cat, on all fours, clawing energetically as he +urged his upward progress, his comrade paying out the rope carefully. At +first his speed was good, but gradually it dwindled. Now he was fifteen +feet from the peg, now ten, now eight--but going, oh, so slowly! Hazard, +looking up from his crevice, felt a contempt for him and disappointment +in him. It did look easy. Now Gus was five feet away, and after a +painful effort, four feet. But when only a yard intervened, he came to a +standstill--not exactly a standstill, for, like a squirrel in a wheel, +he maintained his position on the face of the Dome by the most desperate +clawing. + +He had failed, that was evident. The question now was, how to save +himself. With a sudden, catlike movement he whirled over on his back, +caught his heel in a tiny, saucer-shaped depression and sat up. Then his +courage failed him. Day had at last penetrated to the floor of the +valley, and he was appalled at the frightful distance. + +"Go ahead and make it!" Hazard ordered; but Gus merely shook his head. + +"Then come down!" + +Again he shook his head. This was his ordeal, to sit, nerveless and +insecure, on the brink of the precipice. But Hazard, lying safely in his +crevice, now had to face his own ordeal, but one of a different nature. +When Gus began to slide--as he soon must--would he, Hazard, be able to +take in the slack and then meet the shock as the other tautened the rope +and darted toward the plunge? It seemed doubtful. And there he lay, +apparently safe, but in reality harnessed to death. Then rose the +temptation. Why not cast off the rope about his waist? He would be safe +at all events. It was a simple way out of the difficulty. There was no +need that two should perish. But it was impossible for such temptation +to overcome his pride of race, and his own pride in himself and in his +honor. So the rope remained about him. + +"Come down!" he ordered; but Gus seemed to have become petrified. + +"Come down," he threatened, "or I'll drag you down!" He pulled on the +rope to show he was in earnest. + +"Don't you dare!" Gus articulated through his clenched teeth. + +"Sure, I will, if you don't come!" Again he jerked the rope. + +With a despairing gurgle Gus started, doing his best to work sideways +from the plunge. Hazard, every sense on the alert, almost exulting in +his perfect coolness, took in the slack with deft rapidity. Then, as the +rope began to tighten, he braced himself. The shock drew him half out of +the crevice; but he held firm and served as the center of the circle, +while Gus, with the rope as a radius, described the circumference and +ended up on the extreme southern edge of the Saddle. A few moments later +Hazard was offering him the flask. + +"Take some yourself," Gus said. + +"No; you. I don't need it." + +"And I'm past needing it." Evidently Gus was dubious of the bottle and +its contents. + +Hazard put it away in his pocket. "Are you game," he asked, "or are you +going to give it up?" + +"Never!" Gus protested. "I _am_ game. No Lafee ever showed the +white feather yet. And if I did lose my grit up there, it was only for +the moment--sort of like seasickness. I'm all right now, and I'm going +to the top." + +"Good!" encouraged Hazard. "You lie in the crevice this time, and I'll +show you how easy it is." + +But Gus refused. He held that it was easier and safer for him to try +again, arguing that it was less difficult for his one hundred and +sixteen pounds to cling to the smooth rock than for Hazard's one hundred +and sixty-five; also that it was easier for one hundred and sixty-five +pounds to bring a sliding one hundred and sixteen to a stop than _vice +versa_. And further, that he had the benefit of his previous +experience. Hazard saw the justice of this, although it was with great +reluctance that he gave in. + +Success vindicated Gus's contention. The second time, just as it seemed +as if his slide would be repeated, he made a last supreme effort and +gripped the coveted peg. By means of the rope, Hazard quickly joined +him. The next peg was nearly sixty feet away; but for nearly half that +distance the base of some glacier in the forgotten past had ground a +shallow furrow. Taking advantage of this, it was easy for Gus to lasso +the eye-bolt. And it seemed, as was really the case, that the hardest +part of the task was over. True, the curve steepened to nearly sixty +degrees above them, but a comparatively unbroken line of eye-bolts, six +feet apart, awaited the lads. They no longer had even to use the lasso. +Standing on one peg it was child's play to throw the bight of the rope +over the next and to draw themselves up to it. + +A bronzed and bearded man met them at the top and gripped their hands in +hearty fellowship. + +"Talk about your Mont Blancs!" he exclaimed, pausing in the midst of +greeting them to survey the mighty panorama. "But there's nothing on all +the earth, nor over it, nor under it, to compare with this!" Then he +recollected himself and thanked them for coming to his aid. No, he was +not hurt or injured in any way. Simply because of his own carelessness, +just as he had arrived at the top the previous day, he had dropped his +climbing rope. Of course it was impossible to descend without it. Did +they understand heliographing? No? That was strange! How did they---- + +"Oh, we knew something was the matter," Gus interrupted, "from the way +you flashed when we fired off the shotgun." + +"Find it pretty cold last night without blankets?" Hazard queried. + +"I should say so. I've hardly thawed out yet." + +"Have some of this." Hazard shoved the flask over to him. + +The stranger regarded him quite seriously for a moment, then said, +"My dear fellow, do you see that row of pegs? Since it is my honest +intention to climb down them very shortly, I am forced to decline. +No, I don't think I'll have any, though I thank you just the same." + +Hazard glanced at Gus and then put the flask back in his pocket. But +when they pulled the doubled rope through the last eye-bolt and set foot +on the Saddle, he again drew out the bottle. + +"Now that we're down, we don't need it," he remarked, pithily. "And I've +about come to the conclusion that there isn't very much in Dutch +courage, after all." He gazed up the great curve of the Dome. "Look at +what we've done without it!" + +Several seconds thereafter a party of tourists, gathered at the margin +of Mirror Lake, were astounded at the unwonted phenomenon of a whisky +flask descending upon them like a comet out of a clear sky; and all the +way back to the hotel they marveled greatly at the wonders of nature, +especially meteorites. + + + + +TYPHOON OFF THE COAST OF JAPAN + +[Jack London's first story, published at the age of seventeen] + + +It was four bells in the morning watch. We had just finished breakfast +when the order came forward for the watch on deck to stand by to heave +her to and all hands stand by the boats. + +"Port! hard a port!" cried our sailing-master. "Clew up the topsails! +Let the flying jib run down! Back the jib over to windward and run down +the foresail!" And so was our schooner _Sophie Sutherland_ hove to +off the Japan coast, near Cape Jerimo, on April 10, 1893. + +Then came moments of bustle and confusion. There were eighteen men to +man the six boats. Some were hooking on the falls, others casting off +the lashings; boat-steerers appeared with boat-compasses and +water-breakers, and boat-pullers with the lunch boxes. Hunters were +staggering under two or three shotguns, a rifle and heavy ammunition +box, all of which were soon stowed away with their oilskins and mittens +in the boats. + +The sailing-master gave his last orders, and away we went, pulling three +pairs of oars to gain our positions. We were in the weather boat, and so +had a longer pull than the others. The first, second, and third lee +boats soon had all sail set and were running off to the southward and +westward with the wind beam, while the schooner was running off to +leeward of them, so that in case of accident the boats would have fair +wind home. + +It was a glorious morning, but our boat-steerer shook his head ominously +as he glanced at the rising sun and prophetically muttered: "Red sun in +the morning, sailor take warning." The sun had an angry look, and a few +light, fleecy "nigger-heads" in that quarter seemed abashed and +frightened and soon disappeared. + +Away off to the northward Cape Jerimo reared its black, forbidding head +like some huge monster rising from the deep. The winter's snow, not yet +entirely dissipated by the sun, covered it in patches of glistening +white, over which the light wind swept on its way out to sea. Huge gulls +rose slowly, fluttering their wings in the light breeze and striking +their webbed feet on the surface of the water for over half a mile +before they could leave it. Hardly had the patter, patter died away +when a flock of sea quail rose, and with whistling wings flew away +to windward, where members of a large band of whales were disporting +themselves, their blowings sounding like the exhaust of steam engines. +The harsh, discordant cries of a sea-parrot grated unpleasantly on the +ear, and set half a dozen alert in a small band of seals that were ahead +of us. Away they went, breaching and jumping entirely out of water. A +sea-gull with slow, deliberate flight and long, majestic curves circled +round us, and as a reminder of home a little English sparrow perched +impudently on the fo'castle head, and, cocking his head on one side, +chirped merrily. The boats were soon among the seals, and the bang! +bang! of the guns could be heard from down to leeward. + +The wind was slowly rising, and by three o'clock as, with a dozen seals +in our boat, we were deliberating whether to go on or turn back, the +recall flag was run up at the schooner's mizzen--a sure sign that with +the rising wind the barometer was falling and that our sailing-master +was getting anxious for the welfare of the boats. + +Away we went before the wind with a single reef in our sail. With +clenched teeth sat the boat-steerer, grasping the steering oar firmly +with both hands, his restless eyes on the alert--a glance at the +schooner ahead, as we rose on a sea, another at the mainsheet, and then +one astern where the dark ripple of the wind on the water told him of a +coming puff or a large white-cap that threatened to overwhelm us. The +waves were holding high carnival, performing the strangest antics, as +with wild glee they danced along in fierce pursuit--now up, now down, +here, there, and everywhere, until some great sea of liquid green with +its milk-white crest of foam rose from the ocean's throbbing bosom and +drove the others from view. But only for a moment, for again under new +forms they reappeared. In the sun's path they wandered, where every +ripple, great or small, every little spit or spray looked like molten +silver, where the water lost its dark green color and became a dazzling, +silvery flood, only to vanish and become a wild waste of sullen +turbulence, each dark foreboding sea rising and breaking, then rolling +on again. The dash, the sparkle, the silvery light soon vanished with +the sun, which became obscured by black clouds that were rolling swiftly +in from the west, northwest; apt heralds of the coming storm. + +We soon reached the schooner and found ourselves the last aboard. +In a few minutes the seals were skinned, boats and decks washed, and +we were down below by the roaring fo'castle fire, with a wash, change +of clothes, and a hot, substantial supper before us. Sail had been put +on the schooner, as we had a run of seventy-five miles to make to the +southward before morning, so as to get in the midst of the seals, out +of which we had strayed during the last two days' hunting. + +We had the first watch from eight to midnight. The wind was soon blowing +half a gale, and our sailing-master expected little sleep that night as +he paced up and down the poop. The topsails were soon clewed up and made +fast, then the flying jib run down and furled. Quite a sea was rolling +by this time, occasionally breaking over the decks, flooding them and +threatening to smash the boats. At six bells we were ordered to turn +them over and put on storm lashings. This occupied us till eight bells, +when we were relieved by the mid-watch. I was the last to go below, +doing so just as the watch on deck was furling the spanker. Below all +were asleep except our green hand, the "bricklayer," who was dying of +consumption. The wildly dancing movements of the sea lamp cast a pale, +flickering light through the fo'castle and turned to golden honey the +drops of water on the yellow oilskins. In all the corners dark shadows +seemed to come and go, while up in the eyes of her, beyond the pall +bits, descending from deck to deck, where they seemed to lurk like some +dragon at the cavern's mouth, it was dark as Erebus. Now and again, the +light seemed to penetrate for a moment as the schooner rolled heavier +than usual, only to recede, leaving it darker and blacker than before. +The roar of the wind through the rigging came to the ear muffled like +the distant rumble of a train crossing a trestle or the surf on the +beach, while the loud crash of the seas on her weather bow seemed almost +to rend the beams and planking asunder as it resounded through the +fo'castle. The creaking and groaning of the timbers, stanchions, and +bulkheads, as the strain the vessel was undergoing was felt, served to +drown the groans of the dying man as he tossed uneasily in his bunk. +The working of the foremast against the deck beams caused a shower of +flaky powder to fall, and sent another sound mingling with the tumultous +storm. Small cascades of water streamed from the pall bits from the +fo'castle head above, and, joining issue with the streams from the wet +oilskins, ran along the floor and disappeared aft into the main hold. + +At two bells in the middle watch--that is, in land parlance one o'clock +in the morning--the order was roared out on the fo'castle: "All hands on +deck and shorten sail!" + +Then the sleepy sailors tumbled out of their bunk and into their +clothes, oil-skins, and sea-boots and up on deck. 'Tis when that order +comes on cold, blustering nights that "Jack" grimly mutters: "Who would +not sell a farm and go to sea?" + +It was on deck that the force of the wind could be fully appreciated, +especially after leaving the stifling fo'castle. It seemed to stand +up against you like a wall, making it almost impossible to move on +the heaving decks or to breathe as the fierce gusts came dashing by. +The schooner was hove to under jib, foresail, and mainsail. We proceeded +to lower the foresail and make it fast. The night was dark, greatly +impeding our labor. Still, though not a star or the moon could pierce +the black masses of storm clouds that obscured the sky as they swept +along before the gale, nature aided us in a measure. A soft light +emanated from the movement of the ocean. Each mighty sea, all +phosphorescent and glowing with the tiny lights of myriads of +animalculć, threatened to overwhelm us with a deluge of fire. Higher and +higher, thinner and thinner, the crest grew as it began to curve and +overtop preparatory to breaking, until with a roar it fell over the +bulwarks, a mass of soft glowing light and tons of water which sent the +sailors sprawling in all directions and left in each nook and cranny +little specks of light that glowed and trembled till the next sea washed +them away, depositing new ones in their places. Sometimes several seas +following each other with great rapidity and thundering down on our +decks filled them full to the bulwarks, but soon they were discharged +through the lee scuppers. + +To reef the mainsail we were forced to run off before the gale under the +single reefed jib. By the time we had finished the wind had forced up +such a tremendous sea that it was impossible to heave her to. Away we +flew on the wings of the storm through the muck and flying spray. A wind +sheer to starboard, then another to port as the enormous seas struck the +schooner astern and nearly broached her to. As day broke we took in the +jib, leaving not a sail unfurled. Since we had begun scudding she had +ceased to take the seas over her bow, but amidships they broke fast +and furious. It was a dry storm in the matter of rain, but the force +of the wind filled the air with fine spray, which flew as high as the +crosstrees and cut the face like a knife, making it impossible to see +over a hundred yards ahead. The sea was a dark lead color as with long, +slow, majestic roll it was heaped up by the wind into liquid mountains +of foam. The wild antics of the schooner were sickening as she forged +along. She would almost stop, as though climbing a mountain, then +rapidly rolling to right and left as she gained the summit of a huge +sea, she steadied herself and paused for a moment as though affrighted +at the yawning precipice before her. Like an avalanche, she shot forward +and down as the sea astern struck her with the force of a thousand +battering rams, burying her bow to the catheads in the milky foam at the +bottom that came on deck in all directions--forward, astern, to right +and left, through the hawse-pipes and over the rail. + +The wind began to drop, and by ten o'clock we were talking of heaving +her to. We passed a ship, two schooners, and a four-masted barkentine +under the smallest of canvas, and at eleven o'clock, running up the +spanker and jib, we hove her to, and in another hour we were beating +back again against the aftersea under full sail to regain the sealing +ground away to the westward. + +Below, a couple of men were sewing the "bricklayer's" body in canvas +preparatory to the sea burial. And so with the storm passed away the +"bricklayer's" soul. + + + + +THE LOST POACHER + + +"But they won't take excuses. You're across the line, and that's enough. +They'll take you. In you go, Siberia and the salt-mines. And as for +Uncle Sam, why, what's he to know about it? Never a word will get back +to the States. 'The _Mary Thomas_,' the papers will say, 'the +_Mary Thomas_ lost with all hands. Probably in a typhoon in the +Japanese seas.' That's what the papers will say, and people, too. In you +go, Siberia and the salt-mines. Dead to the world and kith and kin, +though you live fifty years." + +In such manner John Lewis, commonly known as the "sea-lawyer," settled +the matter out of hand. + +It was a serious moment in the forecastle of the _Mary Thomas_. No +sooner had the watch below begun to talk the trouble over, than the +watch on deck came down and joined them. As there was no wind, every +hand could be spared with the exception of the man at the wheel, and he +remained only for the sake of discipline. Even "Bub" Russell, the +cabin-boy, had crept forward to hear what was going on. + +However, it was a serious moment, as the grave faces of the sailors bore +witness. For the three preceding months the _Mary Thomas_ sealing +schooner, had hunted the seal pack along the coast of Japan and north to +Bering Sea. Here, on the Asiatic side of the sea, they were forced to +give over the chase, or rather, to go no farther; for beyond, the +Russian cruisers patrolled forbidden ground, where the seals might breed +in peace. + +A week before she had fallen into a heavy fog accompanied by calm. Since +then the fog-bank had not lifted, and the only wind had been light airs +and catspaws. This in itself was not so bad, for the sealing schooners +are never in a hurry so long as they are in the midst of the seals; but +the trouble lay in the fact that the current at this point bore heavily +to the north. Thus the _Mary Thomas_ had unwittingly drifted across +the line, and every hour she was penetrating, unwillingly, farther and +farther into the dangerous waters where the Russian bear kept guard. + +How far she had drifted no man knew. The sun had not been visible +for a week, nor the stars, and the captain had been unable to take +observations in order to determine his position. At any moment a cruiser +might swoop down and hale the crew away to Siberia. The fate of other +poaching seal-hunters was too well known to the men of the _Mary +Thomas_, and there was cause for grave faces. + +"Mine friends," spoke up a German boat-steerer, "it vas a pad piziness. +Shust as ve make a big catch, und all honest, somedings go wrong, und +der Russians nab us, dake our skins and our schooner, und send us mit +der anarchists to Siberia. Ach! a pretty pad piziness!" + +"Yes, that's where it hurts," the sea lawyer went on. "Fifteen hundred +skins in the salt piles, and all honest, a big pay-day coming to every +man Jack of us, and then to be captured and lose it all! It'd be +different if we'd been poaching, but it's all honest work in open +water." + +"But if we haven't done anything wrong, they can't do anything to us, +can they?" Bub queried. + +"It strikes me as 'ow it ain't the proper thing for a boy o' your age +shovin' in when 'is elders is talkin'," protested an English sailor, +from over the edge of his bunk. + +"Oh, that's all right, Jack," answered the sea-lawyer. "He's a perfect +right to. Ain't he just as liable to lose his wages as the rest of us?" + +"Wouldn't give thruppence for them!" Jack sniffed back. He had been +planning to go home and see his family in Chelsea when he was paid off, +and he was now feeling rather blue over the highly possible loss, not +only of his pay, but of his liberty. + +"How are they to know?" the sea-lawyer asked in answer to Bub's previous +question. "Here we are in forbidden water. How do they know but what we +came here of our own accord? Here we are, fifteen hundred skins in the +hold. How do they, know whether we got them in open water or in the +closed sea? Don't you see, Bub, the evidence is all against us. If you +caught a man with his pockets full of apples like those which grow on +your tree, and if you caught him in your tree besides, what'd you think +if he told you he couldn't help it, and had just been sort of blown +there, and that anyway those apples came from some other tree--what'd +you think, eh?" + +Bub saw it clearly when put in that light, and shook his head +despondently. + +"You'd rather be dead than go to Siberia," one of the boat-pullers said. +"They put you into the salt-mines and work you till you die. Never see +daylight again. Why, I've heard tell of one fellow that was chained to +his mate, and that mate died. And they were both chained together! And +if they send you to the quicksilver mines you get salivated. I'd rather +be hung than salivated." + +"Wot's salivated?" Jack asked, suddenly sitting up in his bunk at the +hint of fresh misfortunes. + +"Why, the quicksilver gets into your blood; I think that's the way. And +your gums all swell like you had the scurvy, only worse, and your teeth +get loose in your jaws. And big ulcers form, and then you die horrible. +The strongest man can't last long a-mining quicksilver." + +"A pad piziness," the boat-steerer reiterated, dolorously, in the +silence which followed. "A pad piziness. I vish I was in Yokohama. Eh? +Vot vas dot?" + +The vessel had suddenly heeled over. The decks were aslant. A tin +pannikin rolled down the inclined plane, rattling and banging. From +above came the slapping of canvas and the quivering rat-tat-tat of the +after leech of the loosely stretched foresail. Then the mate's voice +sang down the hatch, "All hands on deck and make sail!" + +Never had such summons been answered with more enthusiasm. The calm had +broken. The wind had come which was to carry them south into safety. +With a wild cheer all sprang on deck. Working with mad haste, they flung +out topsails, flying jibs and stay-sails. As they worked, the fog-bank +lifted and the black vault of heaven, bespangled with the old familiar +stars, rushed into view. When all was ship-shape, the _Mary Thomas_ +was lying gallantly over on her side to a beam wind and plunging ahead +due south. + +"Steamer's lights ahead on the port bow, sir!" cried the lookout from +his station on the forecastle-head. There was excitement in the man's +voice. + +The captain sent Bub below for his night-glasses. Everybody crowded to +the lee-rail to gaze at the suspicious stranger, which already began to +loom up vague and indistinct. In those unfrequented waters the chance +was one in a thousand that it could be anything else than a Russian +patrol. The captain was still anxiously gazing through the glasses, when +a flash of flame left the stranger's side, followed by the loud report +of a cannon. The worst fears were confirmed. It was a patrol, evidently +firing across the bows of the _Mary Thomas_ in order to make her +heave to. + +"Hard down with your helm!" the captain commanded the steers-man, all +the life gone out of his voice. Then to the crew, "Back over the jib and +foresail! Run down the flying jib! Clew up the foretopsail! And aft here +and swing on to the main-sheet!" + +The _Mary Thomas_ ran into the eye of the wind, lost headway, and +fell to courtesying gravely to the long seas rolling up from the west. + +The cruiser steamed a little nearer and lowered a boat. The sealers +watched in heartbroken silence. They could see the white bulk of the +boat as it was slacked away to the water, and its crew sliding aboard. +They could hear the creaking of the davits and the commands of the +officers. Then the boat sprang away under the impulse of the oars, and +came toward them. The wind had been rising, and already the sea was too +rough to permit the frail craft to lie alongside the tossing schooner; +but watching their chance, and taking advantage of the boarding ropes +thrown to them, an officer and a couple of men clambered aboard. +The boat then sheered off into safety and lay to its oars, a young +midshipman, sitting in the stern and holding the yoke-lines, in charge. + +The officer, whose uniform disclosed his rank as that of second +lieutenant in the Russian navy, went below with the captain of the +_Mary Thomas_ to look at the ship's papers. A few minutes later he +emerged, and upon his sailors removing the hatch-covers, passed down +into the hold with a lantern to inspect the salt piles. It was a goodly +heap which confronted him--fifteen hundred fresh skins, the season's +catch; and under the circumstances he could have had but one conclusion. + +"I am very sorry," he said, in broken English to the sealing captain, +when he again came on deck, "but it is my duty, in the name of the tsar, +to seize your vessel as a poacher caught with fresh skins in the closed +sea. The penalty, as you may know, is confiscation and imprisonment." + +The captain of the _Mary Thomas_ shrugged his shoulders in seeming +indifference, and turned away. Although they may restrain all outward +show, strong men, under unmerited misfortune, are sometimes very close +to tears. Just then the vision of his little California home, and of the +wife and two yellow-haired boys, was strong upon him, and there was a +strange, choking sensation in his throat, which made him afraid that if +he attempted to speak he would sob instead. + +And also there was upon him the duty he owed his men. No weakness before +them, for he must be a tower of strength to sustain them in misfortune. +He had already explained to the second lieutenant, and knew the +hopelessness of the situation. As the sea-lawyer had said, the evidence +was all against him. So he turned aft, and fell to pacing up and down +the poop of the vessel over which he was no longer commander. + +The Russian officer now took temporary charge. He ordered more of his +men aboard, and had all the canvas clewed up and furled snugly away. +While this was being done, the boat plied back and forth between the +two vessels, passing a heavy hawser, which was made fast to the great +towing-bitts on the schooner's forecastle-head. During all this work +the sealers stood about in sullen groups. It was madness to think of +resisting, with the guns of a man-of-war not a biscuit-toss away; but +they refused to lend a hand, preferring instead to maintain a gloomy +silence. + +Having accomplished his task, the lieutenant ordered all but four of his +men back into the boat. Then the midshipman, a lad of sixteen, looking +strangely mature and dignified in his uniform and sword, came aboard to +take command of the captured sealer. Just as the lieutenant prepared to +depart, his eyes chanced to alight upon Bub. Without a word of warning, +he seized him by the arm and dropped him over the rail into the waiting +boat; and then, with a parting wave of his hand, he followed him. + +It was only natural that Bub should be frightened at this unexpected +happening. All the terrible stories he had heard of the Russians served +to make him fear them, and now returned to his mind with double force. +To be captured by them was bad enough, but to be carried off by them, +away from his comrades, was a fate of which he had not dreamed. + +"Be a good boy, Bub," the captain called to him, as the boat drew away +from the _Mary Thomas_'s side, "and tell the truth!" + +"Aye, aye, sir!" he answered, bravely enough, by all outward appearance. +He felt a certain pride of race, and was ashamed to be a coward before +these strange enemies, these wild Russian bears. + +"Und be politeful!" the German boat-steerer added, his rough voice +lifting across the water like a fog-horn. + +Bub waved his hand in farewell, and his mates clustered along the +rail as they answered with a cheering shout. He found room in the +stern-sheets, where he fell to regarding the lieutenant. He didn't look +so wild or bearish, after all--very much like other men, Bub concluded, +and the sailors were much the same as all other man-of-war's men he had +ever known. Nevertheless, as his feet struck the steel deck of the +cruiser, he felt as if he had entered the portals of a prison. + +For a few minutes he was left unheeded. The sailors hoisted the boat up, +and swung it in on the davits. Then great clouds of black smoke poured +out of the funnels, and they were under way--to Siberia, Bub could not +help but think. He saw the _Mary Thomas_ swing abruptly into line +as she took the pressure from the hawser, and her side-lights, red and +green, rose and fell as she was towed through the sea. + +Bub's eyes dimmed at the melancholy sight, but--but just then the +lieutenant came to take him down to the commander, and he straightened +up and set his lips firmly, as if this were a very commonplace affair +and he were used to being sent to Siberia every day in the week. The +cabin in which the commander sat was like a palace compared to the +humble fittings of the _Mary Thomas_, and the commander himself, in +gold lace and dignity, was a most august personage, quite unlike the +simple man who navigated his schooner on the trail of the seal pack. + +Bub now quickly learned why he had been brought aboard, and in the +prolonged questioning which followed, told nothing but the plain truth. +The truth was harmless; only a lie could have injured his cause. He did +not know much, except that they had been sealing far to the south in +open water, and that when the calm and fog came down upon them, being +close to the line, they had drifted across. Again and again he insisted +that they had not lowered a boat or shot a seal in the week they had +been drifting about in the forbidden sea; but the commander chose to +consider all that he said to be a tissue of falsehoods, and adopted a +bullying tone in an effort to frighten the boy. He threatened and +cajoled by turns, but failed in the slightest to shake Bub's statements, +and at last ordered him out of his presence. + +By some oversight, Bub was not put in anybody's charge, and wandered up +on deck unobserved. Sometimes the sailors, in passing, bent curious +glances upon him, but otherwise he was left strictly alone. Nor could he +have attracted much attention, for he was small, the night dark, and the +watch on deck intent on its own business. Stumbling over the strange +decks, he made his way aft where he could look upon the side-lights of +the _Mary Thomas_, following steadily in the rear. + +For a long while he watched, and then lay down in the darkness close to +where the hawser passed over the stern to the captured schooner. Once +an officer came up and examined the straining rope to see if it were +chafing, but Bub cowered away in the shadow undiscovered. This, however, +gave him an idea which concerned the lives and liberties of twenty-two +men, and which was to avert crushing sorrow from more than one happy +home many thousand miles away. + +In the first place, he reasoned, the crew were all guiltless of any +crime, and yet were being carried relentlessly away to imprisonment in +Siberia--a living death, he had heard, and he believed it implicitly. +In the second place, he was a prisoner, hard and fast, with no chance +of escape. In the third, it was possible for the twenty-two men on the +_Mary Thomas_ to escape. The only thing which bound them was a +four-inch hawser. They dared not cut it at their end, for a watch was +sure to be maintained upon it by their Russian captors; but at this end, +ah! at his end---- + +Bub did not stop to reason further. Wriggling close to the hawser, he +opened his jack-knife and went to work, The blade was not very sharp, +and he sawed away, rope-yarn by rope-yarn, the awful picture of the +solitary Siberian exile he must endure growing clearer and more terrible +at every stroke. Such a fate was bad enough to undergo with one's +comrades, but to face it alone seemed frightful. And besides, the very +act he was performing was sure to bring greater punishment upon him. + +In the midst of such somber thoughts, he heard footsteps approaching. +He wriggled away into the shadow. An officer stopped where he had been +working, half-stooped to examine the hawser, then changed his mind and +straightened up. For a few minutes he stood there, gazing at the lights +of the captured schooner, and then went forward again. + +Now was the time! Bub crept back and went on sawing. Now two parts were +severed. Now three. But one remained. The tension upon this was so great +that it readily yielded. Splash! The freed end went overboard. He lay +quietly, his heart in his mouth, listening. No one on the cruiser but +himself had heard. + +He saw the red and green lights of the _Mary Thomas_ grow dimmer +and dimmer. Then a faint hallo came over the water from the Russian +prize crew. Still nobody heard. The smoke continued to pour out of the +cruiser's funnels, and her propellers throbbed as mightily as ever. + +What was happening on the _Mary Thomas_? Bub could only surmise; +but of one thing he was certain: his comrades would assert themselves +and overpower the four sailors and the midshipman. A few minutes later +he saw a small flash, and straining his ears heard the very faint report +of a pistol. Then, oh joy! both the red and green lights suddenly +disappeared. The _Mary Thomas_ was retaken! + +Just as an officer came aft, Bub crept forward, and hid away in +one of the boats. Not an instant too soon. The alarm was given. Loud +voices rose in command. The cruiser altered her course. An electric +search-light began to throw its white rays across the sea, here, there, +everywhere; but in its flashing path no tossing schooner was revealed. + +Bub went to sleep soon after that, nor did he wake till the gray of +dawn. The engines were pulsing monotonously, and the water, splashing +noisily, told him the decks were being washed down. One sweeping glance, +and he saw that they were alone on the expanse of ocean. The _Mary +Thomas_ had escaped. As he lifted his head, a roar of laughter went +up from the sailors. Even the officer, who ordered him taken below and +locked up, could not quite conceal the laughter in his eyes. Bub thought +often in the days of confinement which followed, that they were not very +angry with him for what he had done. + +He was not far from right. There is a certain innate nobility deep down +in the hearts of all men, which forces them to admire a brave act, even +if it is performed by an enemy. The Russians were in nowise different +from other men. True, a boy had outwitted them; but they could not blame +him, and they were sore puzzled as to what to do with him. It would +never do to take a little mite like him in to represent all that +remained of the lost poacher. + +So, two weeks later, a United States man-of-war, steaming out of the +Russian port of Vladivostok, was signaled by a Russian cruiser. A boat +passed between the two ships, and a small boy dropped over the rail upon +the deck of the American vessel. A week later he was put ashore at +Hakodate, and after some telegraphing, his fare was paid on the railroad +to Yokohama. + +From the depot he hurried through the quaint Japanese streets to the +harbor, and hired a _sampan_ boatman to put him aboard a certain +vessel whose familiar rigging had quickly caught his eye. Her gaskets +were off, her sails unfurled; she was just starting back to the United +States. As he came closer, a crowd of sailors sprang upon the forecastle +head, and the windlass-bars rose and fell as the anchor was torn from +its muddy bottom. + +"'Yankee ship come down the ribber!'" the sea-lawyer's voice rolled out +as he led the anchor song. + +"'Pull, my bully boys, pull!'" roared back the old familiar chorus, the +men's bodies lifting and bending to the rhythm. + +Bub Russell paid the boatman and stepped on deck. The anchor was +forgotten. A mighty cheer went up from the men, and almost before he +could catch his breath he was on the shoulders of the captain, +surrounded by his mates, and endeavoring to answer twenty questions to +the second. + +The next day a schooner hove to off a Japanese fishing village, sent +ashore four sailors and a little midshipman, and sailed away. These men +did not talk English, but they had money and quickly made their way to +Yokohama. From that day the Japanese village folk never heard anything +more about them, and they are still a much-talked-of mystery. As the +Russian government never said anything about the incident, the United +States is still ignorant of the whereabouts of the lost poacher, nor has +she ever heard, officially, of the way in which some of her citizens +"shanghaied" five subjects of the tsar. Even nations have secrets +sometimes. + + + + +THE BANKS OF THE SACRAMENTO + + "And it's blow, ye winds, heigh-ho, + For Cal-i-for-ni-o; + For there's plenty of gold so I've been told, + On the banks of the Sacramento!" + + +It was only a little boy, singing in a shrill treble the sea chantey +which seamen sing the wide world over when they man the capstan bars and +break the anchors out for "Frisco" port. It was only a little boy who +had never seen the sea, but two hundred feet beneath him rolled the +Sacramento. "Young" Jerry he was called, after "Old" Jerry, his father, +from whom he had learned the song, as well as received his shock of +bright-red hair, his blue, dancing eyes, and his fair and inevitably +freckled skin. + +For Old Jerry had been a sailor, and had followed the sea till middle +life, haunted always by the words of the ringing chantey. Then one day +he had sung the song in earnest, in an Asiatic port, swinging and +thrilling round the capstan-circle with twenty others. And at San +Francisco he turned his back upon his ship and upon the sea, and went +to behold with his own eyes the banks of the Sacramento. + +He beheld the gold, too, for he found employment at the Yellow Dream +mine, and proved of utmost usefulness in rigging the great ore-cables +across the river and two hundred feet above its surface. + +After that he took charge of the cables and kept them in repair, and ran +them and loved them, and became himself an indispensable fixture of the +Yellow Dream mine. Then he loved pretty Margaret Kelly; but she had left +him and Young Jerry, the latter barely toddling, to take up her last +long sleep in the little graveyard among the great sober pines. + +Old Jerry never went back to the sea. He remained by his cables, and +lavished upon them and Young Jerry all the love of his nature. When evil +days came to the Yellow-Dream, he still remained in the employ of the +company as watchman over the all but abandoned property. + +But this morning he was not visible. Young Jerry only was to be seen, +sitting on the cabin step and singing the ancient chantey. He had cooked +and eaten his breakfast all by himself, and had just come out to take a +look at the world. Twenty feet before him stood the steel drum round +which the endless cable worked. By the drum, snug and fast, was the +ore-car. Following with his eyes the dizzy flight of the cables to the +farther bank, he could see the other drum and the other car. + +The contrivance was worked by gravity, the loaded car crossing the river +by virtue of its own weight, and at the same time dragging the empty car +back. The loaded car being emptied, and the empty car being loaded with +more ore, the performance could be repeated--a performance which had +been repeated tens of thousands of times since the day Old Jerry became +the keeper of the cables. + +Young Jerry broke off his song at the sound of approaching footsteps, A +tall, blue-shirted man, a rifle across the hollow of his arm, came out +from the gloom of the pine-trees. It was Hall, watchman of the Yellow +Dragon mine, the cables of which spanned the Sacramento a mile farther +up. + +"Hello, younker!" was his greeting. "What you doin' here by your +lonesome?" + +"Oh, bachin'," Jerry tried to answer unconcernedly, as if it were a very +ordinary sort of thing. "Dad's away, you see." + +"Where's he gone?" the man asked. + +"San Francisco. Went last night. His brother's dead in the old country, +and he's gone down to see the lawyers. Won't be back till tomorrow +night." + +So spoke Jerry, and with pride, because of the responsibility which had +fallen to him of keeping an eye on the property of the Yellow Dream, and +the glorious adventure of living alone on the cliff above the river and +of cooking his own meals. + +"Well, take care of yourself," Hall said, "and don't monkey with the +cables. I'm goin' to see if I can't pick up a deer in the Cripple Cow +Cańon." + +"It's goin' to rain, I think," Jerry said, with mature deliberation. + +"And it's little I mind a wettin'," Hall laughed, as he strode away +among the trees. + +Jerry's prediction concerning rain was more than fulfilled. By ten +o'clock the pines were swaying and moaning, the cabin windows rattling, +and the rain driving by in fierce squalls. At half past eleven he +kindled a fire, and promptly at the stroke of twelve sat down to his +dinner. + +No out-of-doors for him that day, he decided, when he had washed the few +dishes and put them neatly away; and he wondered how wet Hall was and +whether he had succeeded in picking up a deer. + +At one o'clock there came a knock at the door, and when he opened it a +man and a woman staggered in on the breast of a great gust of wind. They +were Mr. and Mrs. Spillane, ranchers, who lived in a lonely valley a +dozen miles back from the river. + +"Where's Hall?" was Spillane's opening speech, and he spoke sharply and +quickly. + +Jerry noted that he was nervous and abrupt in his movements, and that +Mrs. Spillane seemed laboring under some strong anxiety. She was a thin, +washed-out, worked-out woman, whose life of dreary and unending toil had +stamped itself harshly upon her face. It was the same life that had +bowed her husband's shoulders and gnarled his hands and turned his hair +to a dry and dusty gray. + +"He's gone hunting up Cripple Cow," Jerry answered. "Did you want to +cross?" + +The woman began to weep quietly, while Spillane dropped a troubled +exclamation and strode to the window. Jerry joined him in gazing out to +where the cables lost themselves in the thick downpour. + +It was the custom of the backwoods people in that section of country +to cross the Sacramento on the Yellow Dragon cable. For this service a +small toll was charged, which tolls the Yellow Dragon Company applied to +the payment of Hall's wages. + +"We've got to get across, Jerry," Spillane said, at the same time +jerking his thumb over his shoulder in the direction of his wife. "Her +father's hurt at the Clover Leaf. Powder explosion. Not expected to +live. We just got word." + +Jerry felt himself fluttering inwardly. He knew that Spillane wanted to +cross on the Yellow Dream cable, and in the absence of his father he +felt that he dared not assume such a responsibility, for the cable had +never been used for passengers; in fact, had not been used at all for a +long time. + +"Maybe Hall will be back soon," he said. + +Spillane shook his head, and demanded, "Where's your father?" + +"San Francisco," Jerry answered, briefly. + +Spillane groaned, and fiercely drove his clenched fist into the palm of +the other hand. His wife was crying more audibly, and Jerry could hear +her murmuring, "And daddy's dyin', dyin'!" + +The tears welled up in his own eyes, and he stood irresolute, not +knowing what he should do. But the man decided for him. + +"Look here, kid," he said, with determination, "the wife and me are +goin' over on this here cable of yours! Will you run it for us?" + +Jerry backed slightly away. He did it unconsciously, as if recoiling +instinctively from something unwelcome. + +"Better see if Hall's back," he suggested. + +"And if he ain't?" + +Again Jerry hesitated. + +"I'll stand for the risk," Spillane added. "Don't you see, kid, we've +simply got to cross!" + +Jerry nodded his head reluctantly. + +"And there ain't no use waitin' for Hall," Spillane went on. "You know +as well as me he ain't back from Cripple Cow this time of day! So come +along and let's get started." + +No wonder that Mrs. Spillane seemed terrified as they helped her +into the ore-car--so Jerry thought, as he gazed into the apparently +fathomless gulf beneath her. For it was so filled with rain and cloud, +hurtling and curling in the fierce blast, that the other shore, seven +hundred feet away, was invisible, while the cliff at their feet dropped +sheer down and lost itself in the swirling vapor. By all appearances it +might be a mile to bottom instead of two hundred feet. + +"All ready?" he asked. + +"Let her go!" Spillane shouted, to make himself heard above the roar of +the wind. + +He had clambered in beside his wife, and was holding one of her hands in +his. + +Jerry looked upon this with disapproval. "You'll need all your hands for +holdin' on, the way the wind's yowlin.'" + +The man and the woman shifted their hands accordingly, tightly gripping +the sides of the car, and Jerry slowly and carefully released the brake. +The drum began to revolve as the endless cable passed round it, and the +car slid slowly out into the chasm, its trolley wheels rolling on the +stationary cable overhead, to which it was suspended. + +It was not the first time Jerry had worked the cable, but it was the +first time he had done so away from the supervising eye of his father. +By means of the brake he regulated the speed of the car. It needed +regulating, for at times, caught by the stronger gusts of wind, it +swayed violently back and forth; and once, just before it was swallowed +up in a rain squall, it seemed about to spill out its human contents. + +After that Jerry had no way of knowing where the car was except by means +of the cable. This he watched keenly as it glided around the drum. +"Three hundred feet," he breathed to himself, as the cable markings went +by, "three hundred and fifty, four hundred; four hundred and----" + +The cable had stopped. Jerry threw off the brake, but it did not move. +He caught the cable with his hands and tried to start it by tugging +smartly. Something had gone wrong. What? He could not guess; he could +not see. Looking up, he could vaguely make out the empty car, which had +been crossing from the opposite cliff at a speed equal to that of the +loaded car. It was about two hundred and fifty feet away. That meant, he +knew, that somewhere in the gray obscurity, two hundred feet above the +river and two hundred and fifty feet from the other bank, Spillane and +his wife were suspended and stationary. + +Three times Jerry shouted with all the shrill force of his lungs, but +no answering cry came out of the storm. It was impossible for him to +hear them or to make himself heard. As he stood for a moment, thinking +rapidly, the flying clouds seemed to thin and lift. He caught a brief +glimpse of the swollen Sacramento beneath, and a briefer glimpse of the +car and the man and woman. Then the clouds descended thicker than ever. + +The boy examined the drum closely, and found nothing the matter with it. +Evidently it was the drum on the other side that had gone wrong. He was +appalled at thought of the man and woman out there in the midst of the +storm, hanging over the abyss, rocking back and forth in the frail car +and ignorant of what was taking place on shore. And he did not like to +think of their hanging there while he went round by the Yellow Dragon +cable to the other drum. + +But he remembered a block and tackle in the tool-house, and ran and +brought it. They were double blocks, and he murmured aloud, "A purchase +of four," as he made the tackle fast to the endless cable. Then he +heaved upon it, heaved until it seemed that his arms were being drawn +out from their sockets and that his shoulder muscles would be ripped +asunder. Yet the cable did not budge. Nothing remained but to cross over +to the other side. + +He was already soaking wet, so he did not mind the rain as he ran over +the trail to the Yellow Dragon. The storm was with him, and it was easy +going, although there was no Hall at the other end of it to man the +brake for him and regulate the speed of the car. This he did for +himself, however, by means of a stout rope, which he passed, with a +turn, round the stationary cable. + +As the full force of the wind struck him in mid-air, swaying the cable +and whistling and roaring past it, and rocking and careening the car, he +appreciated more fully what must be the condition of mind of Spillane +and his wife. And this appreciation gave strength to him, as, safely +across, he fought his way up the other bank, in the teeth of the gale, +to the Yellow Dream cable. + +To his consternation, he found the drum in thorough working order. +Everything was running smoothly at both ends. Where was the hitch? In +the middle, without a doubt. + +From this side, the car containing Spillane was only two hundred and +fifty feet away. He could make out the man and woman through the +whirling vapor, crouching in the bottom of the car and exposed to the +pelting rain and the full fury of the wind. In a lull between the +squalls he shouted to Spillane to examine the trolley of the car. + +Spillane heard, for he saw him rise up cautiously on his knees, and with +his hands go over both trolley-wheels. Then he turned his face toward +the bank. + +"She's all right, kid!" + +Jerry heard the words, faint and far, as from a remote distance. Then +what was the matter? Nothing remained but the other and empty car, which +he could not see, but which he knew to be there, somewhere in that +terrible gulf two hundred feet beyond Spillane's car. + +His mind was made up on the instant. He was only fourteen years old, +slightly and wirily built; but his life had been lived among the +mountains, his father had taught him no small measure of "sailoring," +and he was not particularly afraid of heights. + +In the tool-box by the drum he found an old monkey-wrench and a short +bar of iron, also a coil of fairly new Manila rope. He looked in vain +for a piece of board with which to rig a "boatswain's chair." There was +nothing at hand but large planks, which he had no means of sawing, so he +was compelled to do without the more comfortable form of saddle. + +The saddle he rigged was very simple. With the rope he made merely a +large loop round the stationary cable, to which hung the empty car. When +he sat in the loop his hands could just reach the cable conveniently, +and where the rope was likely to fray against the cable he lashed his +coat, in lieu of the old sack he would have used had he been able to +find one. + +These preparations swiftly completed, he swung out over the chasm, +sitting in the rope saddle and pulling himself along the cable by his +hands. With him he carried the monkey-wrench and short iron bar and a +few spare feet of rope. It was a slightly up-hill pull, but this he did +not mind so much as the wind. When the furious gusts hurled him back and +forth, sometimes half twisting him about, and he gazed down into the +gray depths, he was aware that he was afraid. It was an old cable. What +if it should break under his weight and the pressure of the wind? + +It was fear he was experiencing, honest fear, and he knew that there was +a "gone" feeling in the pit of his stomach, and a trembling of the knees +which he could not quell. + +But he held himself bravely to the task. The cable was old and worn, +sharp pieces of wire projected from it, and his hands were cut and +bleeding by the time he took his first rest, and held a shouted +conversation with Spillane. The car was directly beneath him and only a +few feet away, so he was able to explain the condition of affairs and +his errand. + +"Wish I could help you," Spillane shouted at him as he started on, "but +the wife's gone all to pieces! Anyway, kid, take care of yourself! I got +myself in this fix, but it's up to you to get me out!" + +"Oh, I'll do it!" Jerry shouted back. "Tell Mrs. Spillane that she'll be +ashore now in a jiffy!" + +In the midst of pelting rain, which half-blinded him, swinging from side +to side like a rapid and erratic pendulum, his torn hands paining him +severely and his lungs panting from his exertions and panting from the +very air which the wind sometimes blew into his mouth with strangling +force, he finally arrived at the empty car. + +A single glance showed him that he had not made the dangerous journey in +vain. The front trolley-wheel, loose from long wear, had jumped the +cable, and the cable was now jammed tightly between the wheel and the +sheave-block. + +One thing was clear--the wheel must be removed from the block. A second +thing was equally clear--while the wheel was being removed the car would +have to be fastened to the cable by the rope he had brought. + +At the end of a quarter of an hour, beyond making the car secure, he +had accomplished nothing. The key which bound the wheel on its axle was +rusted and jammed. He hammered at it with one hand and held on the best +he could with the other, but the wind persisted in swinging and twisting +his body, and made his blows miss more often than not. Nine-tenths of +the strength he expended was in trying to hold himself steady. For fear +that he might drop the monkey-wrench he made it fast to his wrist with +his handkerchief. + +At the end of half an hour Jerry had hammered the key clear, but he +could not draw it out. A dozen times it seemed that he must give up +in despair, that all the danger and toil he had gone through were for +nothing. Then an idea came to him, and he went through his pockets with +feverish haste, and found what he sought--a ten-penny nail. + +But for that nail, put in his pocket he knew not when or why, he would +have had to make another trip over the cable and back. Thrusting the +nail through the looped head of the key, he at last had a grip, and in +no time the key was out. + +Then came punching and prying with the iron bar to get the wheel itself +free from where it was jammed by the cable against the side of the +block. After that Jerry replaced the wheel, and by means of the rope, +heaved up on the car till the trolley once more rested properly on the +cable. + +All this took time. More than an hour and a half had elapsed since his +arrival at the empty car. And now, for the first time, he dropped out of +his saddle and down into the car. He removed the detaining ropes, and +the trolley-wheels began slowly to revolve. The car was moving, and he +knew that somewhere beyond, although he could not see, the car of +Spillane was likewise moving, and in the opposite direction. + +There was no need for a brake, for his weight sufficiently +counterbalanced the weight in the other car; and soon he saw the cliff +rising out of the cloud depths and the old familiar drum going round and +round. + +Jerry climbed out and made the car securely fast. He did it deliberately +and carefully, and then, quite unhero-like, he sank down by the drum, +regardless of the pelting storm, and burst out sobbing. + +There were many reasons why he sobbed--partly from the pain of his +hands, which was excruciating; partly from exhaustion; partly from +relief and release from the nerve-tension he had been under for so long; +and in a large measure from thankfulness that the man and woman were +saved. + +They were not there to thank him; but somewhere beyond that howling, +storm-driven gulf he knew they were hurrying over the trail toward the +Clover Leaf. + +Jerry staggered to the cabin, and his hand left the white knob red with +blood as he opened the door, but he took no notice of it. + +He was too proudly contented with himself, for he was certain that he +had done well, and he was honest enough to admit to himself that he had +done well. But a small regret arose and persisted in his thoughts--if +his father had only been there to see! + + + + +CHRIS FARRINGTON: ABLE SEAMAN + + +"If you vas in der old country ships, a liddle shaver like you vood pe +only der boy, und you vood wait on der able seamen. Und ven der able +seaman sing out, 'Boy, der water-jug!' you vood jump quick, like a shot, +und bring der water-jug. Und ven der able seaman sing out, 'Boy, my +boots!' you vood get der boots. Und you vood pe politeful, und say +'Yessir' und 'No sir.' But you pe in der American ship, und you t'ink +you are so good as der able seamen. Chris, mine boy, I haf ben a +sailorman for twenty-two years, und do you t'ink you are so good as me? +I vas a sailorman pefore you vas borned, und I knot und reef und splice +ven you play mit topstrings und fly kites." + +"But you are unfair, Emil!" cried Chris Farrington, his sensitive face +flushed and hurt. He was a slender though strongly built young fellow of +seventeen, with Yankee ancestry writ large all over him. + +"Dere you go vonce again!" the Swedish sailor exploded. "My name is +Mister Johansen, und a kid of a boy like you call me 'Emil!' It vas +insulting, und comes pecause of der American ship!" + +"But you call me 'Chris!'" the boy expostulated, reproachfully. + +"But you vas a boy." + +"Who does a man's work," Chris retorted. "And because I do a man's work +I have as much right to call you by your first name as you me. We are +all equals in this fo'castle, and you know it. When we signed for the +voyage in San Francisco, we signed as sailors on the _Sophie +Sutherland_ and there was no difference made with any of us. Haven't +I always done my work? Did I ever shirk? Did you or any other man ever +have to take a wheel for me? Or a lookout? Or go aloft?" + +"Chris is right," interrupted a young English sailor. "No man has had to +do a tap of his work yet. He signed as good as any of us, and he's shown +himself as good--" + +"Better!" broke in a Nova Scotia man. "Better than some of us! When +we struck the sealing-grounds he turned out to be next to the best +boat-steerer aboard. Only French Louis, who'd been at it for years, +could beat him. I'm only a boat-puller, and you're only a boat-puller, +too, Emil Johansen, for all your twenty-two years at sea. Why don't you +become a boat-steerer?" + +"Too clumsy," laughed the Englishman, "and too slow." + +"Little that counts, one way or the other," joined in Dane Jurgensen, +coming to the aid of his Scandinavian brother. "Emil is a man grown and +an able seaman; the boy is neither." + +And so the argument raged back and forth, the Swedes, Norwegians and +Danes, because of race kinship, taking the part of Johansen, and the +English, Canadians and Americans taking the part of Chris. From an +unprejudiced point of view, the right was on the side of Chris. As he +had truly said, he did a man's work, and the same work that any of them +did. But they were prejudiced, and badly so, and out of the words which +passed rose a standing quarrel which divided the forecastle into two +parties. + + * * * * * + +The _Sophie Sutherland_ was a seal-hunter, registered out of San +Francisco, and engaged in hunting the furry sea-animals along the +Japanese coast north to Bering Sea. The other vessels were two-masted +schooners, but she was a three-master and the largest in the fleet. In +fact, she was a full-rigged, three-topmast schooner, newly built. + +Although Chris Farrington knew that justice was with him, and that he +performed all his work faithfully and well, many a time, in secret +thought, he longed for some pressing emergency to arise whereby he could +demonstrate to the Scandinavian seamen that he also was an able seaman. + +But one stormy night, by an accident for which he was in nowise +accountable, in overhauling a spare anchor-chain he had all the fingers +of his left hand badly crushed. And his hopes were likewise crushed, for +it was impossible for him to continue hunting with the boats, and he was +forced to stay idly aboard until his fingers should heal. Yet, although +he little dreamed it, this very accident was to give him the +long-looked-for opportunity. + +One afternoon in the latter part of May the _Sophie Sutherland_ +rolled sluggishly in a breathless calm. The seals were abundant, the +hunting good, and the boats were all away and out of sight. And with +them was almost every man of the crew. Besides Chris, there remained +only the captain, the sailing-master and the Chinese cook. + +The captain was captain only by courtesy. He was an old man, past +eighty, and blissfully ignorant of the sea and its ways; but he was the +owner of the vessel, and hence the honorable title. Of course the +sailing-master, who was really captain, was a thorough-going seaman. The +mate, whose post was aboard, was out with the boats, having temporarily +taken Chris's place as boat-steerer. + +When good weather and good sport came together, the boats were +accustomed to range far and wide, and often did not return to the +schooner until long after dark. But for all that it was a perfect +hunting day, Chris noted a growing anxiety on the part of the +sailing-master. He paced the deck nervously, and was constantly sweeping +the horizon with his marine glasses. Not a boat was in sight. As sunset +arrived, he even sent Chris aloft to the mizzen-topmast-head, but with +no better luck. The boats could not possibly be back before midnight. + +Since noon the barometer had been falling with startling rapidity, and +all the signs were ripe for a great storm--how great, not even the +sailing-master anticipated. He and Chris set to work to prepare for +it. They put storm gaskets on the furled topsails, lowered and stowed +the foresail and spanker and took in the two inner jibs. In the one +remaining jib they put a single reef, and a single reef in the mainsail. + +Night had fallen before they finished, and with the darkness came the +storm. A low moan swept over the sea, and the wind struck the _Sophie +Sutherland_ flat. But she righted quickly, and with the sailing-master +at the wheel, sheered her bow into within five points of the wind. +Working as well as he could with his bandaged hand, and with the feeble +aid of the Chinese cook, Chris went forward and backed the jib over to +the weather side. This with the flat mainsail, left the schooner hove to. + +"God help the boats! It's no gale! It's a typhoon!" the sailing-master +shouted to Chris at eleven o'clock. "Too much canvas! Got to get two +more reefs into that mainsail, and got to do it right away!" He glanced +at the old captain, shivering in oilskins at the binnacle and holding on +for dear life. "There's only you and I, Chris--and the cook; but he's +next to worthless!" + +In order to make the reef, it was necessary to lower the mainsail, and +the removal of this after pressure was bound to make the schooner fall +off before the wind and sea because of the forward pressure of the jib. + +"Take the wheel!" the sailing-master directed. "And when I give the +word, hard up with it! And when she's square before it, steady her! And +keep her there! We'll heave to again as soon as I get the reefs in!" + +Gripping the kicking spokes, Chris watched him and the reluctant cook go +forward into the howling darkness. The _Sophie Sutherland_ was +plunging into the huge head-seas and wallowing tremendously, the tense +steel stays and taut rigging humming like harp-strings to the wind. A +buffeted cry came to his ears, and he felt the schooner's bow paying off +of its own accord. The mainsail was down! + +He ran the wheel hard-over and kept anxious track of the changing +direction of the wind on his face and of the heave of the vessel. This +was the crucial moment. In performing the evolution she would have to +pass broadside to the surge before she could get before it. The wind was +blowing directly on his right cheek, when he felt the _Sophie +Sutherland_ lean over and begin to rise toward the sky--up--up--an +infinite distance! Would she clear the crest of the gigantic wave? + +Again by the feel of it, for he could see nothing, he knew that a wall +of water was rearing and curving far above him along the whole weather +side. There was an instant's calm as the liquid wall intervened and shut +off the wind. The schooner righted, and for that instant seemed at +perfect rest. Then she rolled to meet the descending rush. + +Chris shouted to the captain to hold tight, and prepared himself for the +shock. But the man did not live who could face it. An ocean of water +smote Chris's back and his clutch on the spokes was loosened as if it +were a baby's. Stunned, powerless, like a straw on the face of a +torrent, he was swept onward he knew not whither. Missing the corner of +the cabin, he was dashed forward along the poop runway a hundred feet or +more, striking violently against the foot of the foremast. A second +wave, crushing inboard, hurled him back the way he had come, and left +him half-drowned where the poop steps should have been. + +Bruised and bleeding, dimly conscious, he felt for the rail and dragged +himself to his feet. Unless something could be done, he knew the last +moment had come. As he faced the poop, the wind drove into his mouth +with suffocating force. This brought him back to his senses with a +start. The wind was blowing from dead aft! The schooner was out of the +trough and before it! But the send of the sea was bound to breach her to +again. Crawling up the runway, he managed to get to the wheel just in +time to prevent this. The binnacle light was still burning. They were +safe! + +That is, he and the schooner were safe. As to the welfare of his three +companions he could not say. Nor did he dare leave the wheel in order to +find out, for it took every second of his undivided attention to keep +the vessel to her course. The least fraction of carelessness and the +heave of the sea under the quarter was liable to thrust her into the +trough. So, a boy of one hundred and forty pounds, he clung to his +herculean task of guiding the two hundred straining tons of fabric amid +the chaos of the great storm forces. + +Half an hour later, groaning and sobbing, the captain crawled to Chris's +feet. All was lost, he whimpered. He was smitten unto death. The galley +had gone by the board, the mainsail and running-gear, the cook, +everything! + +"Where's the sailing-master?" Chris demanded when he had caught his +breath after steadying a wild lurch of the schooner. It was no child's +play to steer a vessel under single-reefed jib before a typhoon. + +"Clean up for'ard," the old man replied. "Jammed under the +fo'c'sle-head, but still breathing. Both his arms are broken, he says, +and he doesn't know how many ribs. He's hurt bad." + +"Well, he'll drown there the way she's shipping water through the +hawse-pipes. Go for'ard!" Chris commanded, taking charge of things as a +matter of course. "Tell him not to worry; that I'm at the wheel. Help +him as much as you can, and make him help"--he stopped and ran the +spokes to starboard as a tremendous billow rose under the stern and +yawed the schooner to port--"and make him help himself for the rest. +Unship the fo'castle hatch and get him down into a bunk. Then ship the +hatch again." + +The captain turned his aged face forward and wavered pitifully. The +waist of the ship was full of water to the bulwarks. He had just come +through it, and knew death lurked every inch of the way. + +"Go!" Chris shouted, fiercely. And as the fear-stricken man started, +"And take another look for the cook!" + +Two hours later, almost dead from suffering, the captain returned. He +had obeyed orders. The sailing-master was helpless, although safe in a +bunk; the cook was gone. Chris sent the captain below to the cabin to +change his clothes. + +After interminable hours of toil, day broke cold and gray. Chris looked +about him. The _Sophie Sutherland_ was racing before the typhoon +like a thing possessed. There was no rain, but the wind whipped the +spray of the sea mast-high, obscuring everything except in the immediate +neighborhood. + +Two waves only could Chris see at a time--the one before and the one +behind. So small and insignificant the schooner seemed on the long +Pacific roll! Rushing up a maddening mountain, she would poise like a +cockle-shell on the giddy summit, breathless and rolling, leap outward +and down into the yawning chasm beneath, and bury herself in the smother +of foam at the bottom. Then the recovery, another mountain, another +sickening upward rush, another poise, and the downward crash. Abreast of +him, to starboard, like a ghost of the storm, Chris saw the cook dashing +apace with the schooner. Evidently, when washed overboard, he had +grasped and become entangled in a trailing halyard. + +For three hours more, alone with this gruesome companion, Chris held the +_Sophie Sutherland_ before the wind and sea. He had long since +forgotten his mangled fingers. The bandages had been torn away, and the +cold, salt spray had eaten into the half-healed wounds until they were +numb and no longer pained. But he was not cold. The terrific labor of +steering forced the perspiration from every pore. Yet he was faint and +weak with hunger and exhaustion, and hailed with delight the advent on +deck of the captain, who fed him all of a pound of cake-chocolate. It +strengthened him at once. + +He ordered the captain to cut the halyard by which the cook's body was +towing, and also to go forward and cut loose the jib-halyard and sheet. +When he had done so, the jib fluttered a couple of moments like a +handkerchief, then tore out of the bolt-ropes and vanished. The +_Sophie Sutherland_ was running under bare poles. + +By noon the storm had spent itself, and by six in the evening the waves +had died down sufficiently to let Chris leave the helm. It was almost +hopeless to dream of the small boats weathering the typhoon, but there +is always the chance in saving human life, and Chris at once applied +himself to going back over the course along which he had fled. He +managed to get a reef in one of the inner jibs and two reefs in the +spanker, and then, with the aid of the watch-tackle, to hoist them to +the stiff breeze that yet blew. And all through the night, tacking back +and forth on the back track, he shook out canvas as fast as the wind +would permit. + +The injured sailing-master had turned delirious and between tending him +and lending a hand with the ship, Chris kept the captain busy. "Taught +me more seamanship," as he afterward said, "than I'd learned on the +whole voyage." But by daybreak the old man's feeble frame succumbed, and +he fell off into exhausted sleep on the weather poop. + +Chris, who could now lash the wheel, covered the tired man with blankets +from below, and went fishing in the lazaretto for something to eat. +But by the day following he found himself forced to give in, drowsing +fitfully by the wheel and waking ever and anon to take a look at things. + +On the afternoon of the third day he picked up a schooner, dismasted and +battered. As he approached, close-hauled on the wind, he saw her decks +crowded by an unusually large crew, and on sailing in closer, made out +among others the faces of his missing comrades. And he was just in the +nick of time, for they were fighting a losing fight at the pumps. An +hour later they, with the crew of the sinking craft, were aboard the +_Sophie Sutherland_. + +Having wandered so far from their own vessel, they had taken refuge on +the strange schooner just before the storm broke. She was a Canadian +sealer on her first voyage, and as was now apparent, her last. + +The captain of the _Sophie Sutherland_ had a story to tell, also, +and he told it well--so well, in fact, that when all hands were gathered +together on deck during the dog-watch, Emil Johansen strode over to +Chris and gripped him by the hand. + +"Chris," he said, so loudly that all could hear, "Chris, I gif in. You +vas yoost so good a sailorman as I. You vas a bully boy, und able +seaman, und I pe proud for you! + +"Und Chris!" He turned as if he had forgotten something, and called +back, "From dis time always you call me 'Emil' mitout der 'Mister!'" + + + + +TO REPEL BOARDERS + + +"No; honest, now, Bob, I'm sure I was born too late. The twentieth +century's no place for me. If I'd had my way----" + +"You'd have been born in the sixteenth," I broke in, laughing, "with +Drake and Hawkins and Raleigh and the rest of the sea-kings." + +"You're right!" Paul affirmed. He rolled over upon his back on the +little after-deck, with a long sigh of dissatisfaction. + +It was a little past midnight, and, with the wind nearly astern, we were +running down Lower San Francisco Bay to Bay Farm Island. Paul Fairfax +and I went to the same school, lived next door to each other, and +"chummed it" together. By saving money, by earning more, and by +each of us foregoing a bicycle on his birthday, we had collected +the purchase-price of the _Mist_, a beamy twenty-eight-footer, +sloop-rigged, with baby topsail and centerboard. Paul's father was a +yachtsman himself, and he had conducted the business for us, poking +around, overhauling, sticking his penknife into the timbers, and testing +the planks with the greatest care. In fact, it was on his schooner, +the _Whim_, that Paul and I had picked up what we knew about +boat-sailing, and now that the _Mist_ was ours, we were hard at +work adding to our knowledge. + +The _Mist_, being broad of beam, was comfortable and roomy. +A man could stand upright in the cabin, and what with the stove, +cooking-utensils, and bunks, we were good for trips in her of a week at +a time. And we were just starting out on the first of such trips, and it +was because it was the first trip that we were sailing by night. Early +in the evening we had beaten out from Oakland, and we were now off the +mouth of Alameda Creek, a large salt-water estuary which fills and +empties San Leandro Bay. + +"Men lived in those days," Paul said, so suddenly as to startle me from +my own thoughts. "In the days of the sea-kings, I mean," he explained. + +I said "Oh!" sympathetically, and began to whistle "Captain Kidd." + +"Now, I've my ideas about things," Paul went on. "They talk about +romance and adventure and all that, but I say romance and adventure are +dead. We're too civilized. We don't have adventures in the twentieth +century. We go to the circus----" + +"But----" I strove to interrupt, though he would not listen to me. + +"You look here, Bob," he said. "In all the time you and I've gone +together what adventures have we had? True, we were out in the hills +once, and didn't get back till late at night, and we were good and +hungry, but we weren't even lost. We knew where we were all the time. It +was only a case of walk. What I mean is, we've never had to fight for +our lives. Understand? We've never had a pistol fired at us, or a +cannon, or a sword waving over our heads, or--or anything.... + +"You'd better slack away three or four feet of that main-sheet," he said +in a hopeless sort of way, as though it did not matter much anyway. "The +wind's still veering around. + +"Why, in the old times the sea was one constant glorious adventure," +he continued. "A boy left school and became a midshipman, and in a few +weeks was cruising after Spanish galleons or locking yard-arms with a +French privateer, or--doing lots of things." + +"Well--there _are_ adventures today," I objected. + +But Paul went on as though I had not spoken: + +"And today we go from school to high school, and from high school to +college, and then we go into the office or become doctors and things, +and the only adventures we know about are the ones we read in books. +Why, just as sure as I'm sitting here on the stern of the sloop +_Mist_, just so sure am I that we wouldn't know what to do if a +real adventure came along. Now, would we?" + +"Oh, I don't know," I answered non-committally. + +"Well, you wouldn't be a coward, would you?" he demanded. + +I was sure I wouldn't and said so. + +"But you don't have to be a coward to lose your head, do you?" + +I agreed that brave men might get excited. + +"Well, then," Paul summed up, with a note of regret in his voice, "the +chances are that we'd spoil the adventure. So it's a shame, and that's +all I can say about it." + +"The adventure hasn't come yet," I answered, not caring to see him down +in the mouth over nothing. You see, Paul was a peculiar fellow in some +things, and I knew him pretty well. He read a good deal, and had a quick +imagination, and once in a while he'd get into moods like this one. So I +said, "The adventure hasn't come yet, so there's no use worrying about +its being spoiled. For all we know, it might turn out splendidly." + +Paul didn't say anything for some time, and I was thinking he was out of +the mood, when he spoke up suddenly: + +"Just imagine, Bob Kellogg, as we're sailing along now, just as we are, +and never mind what for, that a boat should bear down upon us with armed +men in it, what would you do to repel boarders? Think you could rise to +it?" + +"What would _you_ do?" I asked pointedly. "Remember, we haven't +even a single shotgun aboard." + +"You would surrender, then?" he demanded angrily. "But suppose they were +going to kill you?" + +"I'm not saying what I'd do," I answered stiffly, beginning to get a +little angry myself. "I'm asking what you'd do, without weapons of any +sort?" + +"I'd find something," he replied--rather shortly, I thought. + +I began to chuckle. "Then the adventure wouldn't be spoiled, would it? +And you've been talking rubbish." + +Paul struck a match, looked at his watch, and remarked that it was +nearly one o'clock--a way he had when the argument went against him. +Besides, this was the nearest we ever came to quarreling now, though +our share of squabbles had fallen to us in the earlier days of our +friendship. I had just seen a little white light ahead when Paul +spoke again. + +"Anchor-light," he said. "Funny place for people to drop the hook. It +may be a scow-schooner with a dinky astern, so you'd better go wide." + +I eased the _Mist_ several points, and, the wind puffing up, we +went plowing along at a pretty fair speed, passing the light so wide +that we could not make out what manner of craft it marked. Suddenly the +_Mist_ slacked up in a slow and easy way, as though running upon +soft mud. We were both startled. The wind was blowing stronger than +ever, and yet we were almost at a standstill. + +"Mud-flat out here? Never heard of such a thing!" + +So Paul exclaimed with a snort of unbelief, and, seizing an oar, shoved +it down over the side. And straight down it went till the water wet +his hand. There was no bottom! Then we were dumbfounded. The wind was +whistling by, and still the _Mist_ was moving ahead at a snail's +pace. There seemed something dead about her, and it was all I could do +at the tiller to keep her from swinging up into the wind. + +"Listen!" I laid my hand on Paul's arm. We could hear the sound of +rowlocks, and saw the little white light bobbing up and down and now +very close to us. "There's your armed boat," I whispered in fun. +"Beat the crew to quarters and stand by to repel boarders!" + +We both laughed, and were still laughing when a wild scream of rage came +out of the darkness, and the approaching boat shot under our stern. +By the light of the lantern it carried we could see the two men in it +distinctly. They were foreign-looking fellows with sun-bronzed faces, +and with knitted tam-o'-shanters perched seaman fashion on their heads. +Bright-colored woolen sashes were around their waists, and long +sea-boots covered their legs. I remember yet the cold chill which passed +along my backbone as I noted the tiny gold ear-rings in the ears of one. +For all the world they were like pirates stepped out of the pages of +romance. And, to make the picture complete, their faces were distorted +with anger, and each flourished a long knife. They were both shouting, +in high-pitched voices, some foreign jargon we could not understand. + +One of them, the smaller of the two, and if anything the more +vicious-looking, put his hands on the rail of the _Mist_ and +started to come aboard. Quick as a flash Paul placed the end of the oar +against the man's chest and shoved him back into his boat. He fell in a +heap, but scrambled to his feet, waving the knife and shrieking: + +"You break-a my net-a! You break-a my net-a!" + +And he held forth in the jargon again, his companion joining him, and +both preparing to make another dash to come aboard the _Mist_. + +"They're Italian fishermen," I cried, the facts of the case breaking in +upon me. "We've run over their smelt-net, and it's slipped along the +keel and fouled our rudder. We're anchored to it." + +"Yes, and they're murderous chaps, too," Paul said, sparring at them +with the oar to make them keep their distance. + +"Say, you fellows!" he called to them. "Give us a chance and we'll get +it clear for you! We didn't know your net was there. We didn't mean to +do it, you know!" + +"You won't lose anything!" I added. "We'll pay the damages!" + +But they could not understand what we were saying, or did not care to +understand. + +"You break-a my net-a! You break-a my net-a!" the smaller man, the one +with the earrings, screamed back, making furious gestures. "I fix-a you! +You-a see, I fix-a you!" + +This time, when Paul thrust him back, he seized the oar in his hands, +and his companion jumped aboard. I put my back against the tiller, and +no sooner had he landed, and before he had caught his balance, than I +met him with another oar, and he fell heavily backward into the boat. It +was getting serious, and when he arose and caught my oar, and I realized +his strength, I confess that I felt a goodly tinge of fear. But though +he was stronger than I, instead of dragging me overboard when he +wrenched on the oar, he merely pulled his boat in closer; and when +I shoved, the boat was forced away. Besides, the knife, still in his +right hand, made him awkward and somewhat counterbalanced the advantage +his superior strength gave him. Paul and his enemy were in the same +situation--a sort of deadlock, which continued for several seconds, but +which could not last. Several times I shouted that we would pay for +whatever damage their net had suffered, but my words seemed to be +without effect. + +Then my man began to tuck the oar under his arm, and to come up along +it, slowly, hand over hand. The small man did the same with Paul. Moment +by moment they came closer, and closer, and we knew that the end was +only a question of time. + +"Hard up, Bob!" Paul called softly to me. + +I gave him a quick glance, and caught an instant's glimpse of what I +took to be a very pale face and a very set jaw. + +"Oh, Bob," he pleaded, "hard up your helm! Hard up your helm, Bob!" + +And his meaning dawned upon me. Still holding to my end of the oar, I +shoved the tiller over with my back, and even bent my body to keep it +over. As it was the _Mist_ was nearly dead before the wind, and +this maneuver was bound to force her to jibe her mainsail from one side +to the other. I could tell by the "feel" when the wind spilled out of +the canvas and the boom tilted up. Paul's man had now gained a footing +on the little deck, and my man was just scrambling up. + +"Look out!" I shouted to Paul. "Here she comes!" + +Both he and I let go the oars and tumbled into the cockpit. The next +instant the big boom and the heavy blocks swept over our heads, the +main-sheet whipping past like a great coiling snake and the _Mist_ +heeling over with a violent jar. Both men had jumped for it, but in some +way the little man either got his knife-hand jammed or fell upon it, for +the first sight we caught of him, he was standing in his boat, his +bleeding fingers clasped close between his knees and his face all +twisted with pain and helpless rage. + +"Now's our chance!" Paul whispered. "Over with you!" + +And on either side of the rudder we lowered ourselves into the water, +pressing the net down with our feet, till, with a jerk, it went clear, +Then it was up and in, Paul at the main-sheet and I at the tiller, the +_Mist_ plunging ahead with freedom in her motion, and the little +white light astern growing small and smaller. + +"Now that you've had your adventure, do you feel any better?" I remember +asking when we had changed our clothes and were sitting dry and +comfortable again in the cockpit. + +"Well, if I don't have the nightmare for a week to come"--Paul paused +and puckered his brows in judicial fashion--"it will be because I can't +sleep, that's one thing sure!" + + + + +AN ADVENTURE IN THE UPPER SEA + + +I am a retired captain of the upper sea. That is to say, when I was a +younger man (which is not so long ago) I was an aeronaut and navigated +that aerial ocean which is all around about us and above us. Naturally +it is a hazardous profession, and naturally I have had many thrilling +experiences, the most thrilling, or at least the most nerve-racking, +being the one I am about to relate. + +It happened before I went in for hydrogen gas balloons, all of varnished +silk, doubled and lined, and all that, and fit for voyages of days +instead of mere hours. The "Little Nassau" (named after the "Great +Nassau" of many years back) was the balloon I was making ascents in at +the time. It was a fair-sized, hot-air affair, of single thickness, good +for an hour's flight or so and capable of attaining an altitude of a +mile or more. It answered my purpose, for my act at the time was making +half-mile parachute jumps at recreation parks and country fairs. I was +in Oakland, a California town, filling a summer's engagement with a +street railway company. The company owned a large park outside the city, +and of course it was to its interest to provide attractions which would +send the townspeople over its line when they went out to get a whiff of +country air. My contract called for two ascensions weekly, and my act +was an especially taking feature, for it was on my days that the largest +crowds were drawn. + +Before you can understand what happened, I must first explain a bit +about the nature of the hot air balloon which is used for parachute +jumping. If you have ever witnessed such a jump, you will remember that +directly the parachute was cut loose the balloon turned upside down, +emptied itself of its smoke and heated air, flattened out and fell +straight down, beating the parachute to the ground. Thus there is no +chasing a big deserted bag for miles and miles across the country, and +much time, as well as trouble, is thereby saved. This maneuver is +accomplished by attaching a weight, at the end of a long rope, to the +top of the balloon. The aeronaut, with his parachute and trapeze, hangs +to the bottom of the balloon, and, weighing more, keeps it right side +down. But when he lets go, the weight attached to the top immediately +drags the top down, and the bottom, which is the open mouth, goes up, +the heated air pouring out. The weight used for this purpose on the +"Little Nassau" was a bag of sand. + +On the particular day I have in mind there was an unusually large crowd +in attendance, and the police had their hands full keeping the people +back. There was much pushing and shoving, and the ropes were bulging +with the pressure of men, women and children. As I came down from the +dressing room I noticed two girls outside the ropes, of about fourteen +and sixteen, and inside the rope a youngster of eight or nine. They +were holding him by the hands, and he was struggling, excitedly and +half in laughter, to get away from them. I thought nothing of it at +the time--just a bit of childish play, no more; and it was only in the +light of after events that the scene was impressed vividly upon me. + +"Keep them cleared out, George!" I called to my assistant. "We don't +want any accidents." + +"Ay," he answered, "that I will, Charley." + +George Guppy had helped me in no end of ascents, and because of his +coolness, judgment and absolute reliability I had come to trust my life +in his hands with the utmost confidence. His business it was to overlook +the inflating of the balloon, and to see that everything about the +parachute was in perfect working order. + +The "Little Nassau" was already filled and straining at the guys. The +parachute lay flat along the ground and beyond it the trapeze. I tossed +aside my overcoat, took my position, and gave the signal to let go. As +you know, the first rush upward from the earth is very sudden, and this +time the balloon, when it first caught the wind, heeled violently over +and was longer than usual in righting. I looked down at the old familiar +sight of the world rushing away from me. And there were the thousands of +people, every face silently upturned. And the silence startled me, for, +as crowds went, this was the time for them to catch their first breath +and send up a roar of applause. But there was no hand-clapping, +whistling, cheering--only silence. And instead, clear as a bell and +distinct, without the slightest shake or quaver, came George's voice +through the megaphone: + +"Ride her down, Charley! Ride the balloon down!" + +What had happened? I waved my hand to show that I had heard, and began +to think. Had something gone wrong with the parachute? Why should I ride +the balloon down instead of making the jump which thousands were waiting +to see? What was the matter? And as I puzzled, I received another start. +The earth was a thousand feet beneath, and yet I heard a child crying +softly, and seemingly very close to hand. And though the "Little Nassau" +was shooting skyward like a rocket, the crying did not grow fainter and +fainter and die away. I confess I was almost on the edge of a funk, +when, unconsciously following up the noise with my eyes, I looked above +me and saw a boy astride the sandbag which was to bring the "Little +Nassau" to earth. And it was the same little boy I had seen struggling +with the two girls--his sisters, as I afterward learned. + +There he was, astride the sandbag and holding on to the rope for +dear life. A puff of wind heeled the balloon slightly, and he swung out +into space for ten or a dozen feet, and back again, fetching up against +the tight canvas with a thud which even shook me, thirty feet or more +beneath. I thought to see him dashed loose, but he clung on and +whimpered. They told me afterward, how, at the moment they were casting +off the balloon, the little fellow had torn away from his sisters, +ducked under the rope, and deliberately jumped astride the sandbag. It +has always been a wonder to me that he was not jerked off in the first +rush. + +Well, I felt sick all over as I looked at him there, and I understood +why the balloon had taken longer to right itself, and why George had +called after me to ride her down. Should I cut loose with the parachute, +the bag would at once turn upside down, empty itself, and begin its +swift descent. The only hope lay in my riding her down and in the boy +holding on. There was no possible way for me to reach him. No man could +climb the slim, closed parachute; and even if a man could, and made the +mouth of the balloon, what could he do? Straight out, and fifteen feet +away, trailed the boy on his ticklish perch, and those fifteen feet were +empty space. + +I thought far more quickly than it takes to tell all this, and realized +on the instant that the boy's attention must be called away from his +terrible danger. Exercising all the self-control I possessed, and +striving to make myself very calm, I said cheerily: + +"Hello, up there, who are you!" + +He looked down at me, choking back his tears and brightening up, but +just then the balloon ran into a cross-current, turned half around and +lay over. This set him swinging back and forth, and he fetched the +canvas another bump. Then he began to cry again. + +"Isn't it great?" I asked heartily, as though it was the most enjoyable +thing in the world; and, without waiting for him to answer: "What's your +name?" + +"Tommy Dermott," he answered. + +"Glad to make your acquaintance, Tommy Dermott," I went on. "But I'd +like to know who said you could ride up with me?" + +He laughed and said he just thought he'd ride up for the fun of it. And +so we went on, I sick with fear for him, and cudgeling my brains to keep +up the conversation. I knew that it was all I could do, and that his +life depended upon my ability to keep his mind off his danger. I pointed +out to him the great panorama spreading away to the horizon and four +thousand feet beneath us. There lay San Francisco Bay like a great +placid lake, the haze of smoke over the city, the Golden Gate, the ocean +fog-rim beyond, and Mount Tamalpais over all, clear-cut and sharp +against the sky. Directly below us I could see a buggy, apparently +crawling, but I knew from experience that the men in it were lashing the +horses on our trail. + +But he grew tired of looking around, and I could see he was beginning to +get frightened. + +"How would you like to go in for the business?" I asked. + +He cheered up at once and asked "Do you get good pay?" + +But the "Little Nassau," beginning to cool, had started on its long +descent, and ran into counter currents which bobbed it roughly about. +This swung the boy around pretty lively, smashing him into the bag once +quite severely. His lip began to tremble at this, and he was crying +again. I tried to joke and laugh, but it was no use. His pluck was +oozing out, and at any moment I was prepared to see him go shooting +past me. + +I was in despair. Then, suddenly, I remembered how one fright could +destroy another fright, and I frowned up at him and shouted sternly: + +"You just hold on to that rope! If you don't I'll thrash you within an +inch of your life when I get you down on the ground! Understand?" + +"Ye-ye-yes, sir," he whimpered, and I saw that the thing had worked. I +was nearer to him than the earth, and he was more afraid of me than of +falling. + +"'Why, you've got a snap up there on that soft bag," I rattled on. + +"Yes," I assured him, "this bar down here is hard and narrow, and it +hurts to sit on it." + +Then a thought struck him, and he forgot all about his aching fingers. + +"When are you going to jump?" he asked. "That's what I came up to see." + +I was sorry to disappoint him, but I wasn't going to make any jump. + +But he objected to that. "It said so in the papers," he said. + +"I don't care," I answered. "I'm feeling sort of lazy today, and I'm +just going to ride down the balloon. It's my balloon and I guess I can +do as I please about it. And, anyway, we're almost down now." + +And we were, too, and sinking fast. And right there and then that +youngster began to argue with me as to whether it was right for me to +disappoint the people, and to urge their claims upon me. And it was +with a happy heart that I held up my end of it, justifying myself in a +thousand different ways, till we shot over a grove of eucalyptus trees +and dipped to meet the earth. + +"Hold on tight!" I shouted, swinging down from the trapeze by my hands +in order to make a landing on my feet. + +We skimmed past a barn, missed a mesh of clothesline, frightened +the barnyard chickens into a panic, and rose up again clear over a +haystack--all this almost quicker than it takes to tell. Then we came +down in an orchard, and when my feet had touched the ground I fetched up +the balloon by a couple of turns of the trapeze around an apple tree. + +I have had my balloon catch fire in mid air, I have hung on the cornice +of a ten-story house, I have dropped like a bullet for six hundred feet +when a parachute was slow in opening; but never have I felt so weak and +faint and sick as when I staggered toward the unscratched boy and +gripped him by the arm. + +"Tommy Dermott," I said, when I had got my nerves back somewhat. "Tommy +Dermott, I'm going to lay you across my knee and give you the greatest +thrashing a boy ever got in the world's history." + +"No, you don't," he answered, squirming around. "You said you wouldn't +if I held on tight." + +"That's all right," I said, "but I'm going to, just the same. The +fellows who go up in balloons are bad, unprincipled men, and I'm going +to give you a lesson right now to make you stay away from them, and from +balloons, too." + +And then I gave it to him, and if it wasn't the greatest thrashing in +the world, it was the greatest he ever got. + +But it took all the grit out of me, left me nerve-broken, that +experience. I canceled the engagement with the street railway company, +and later on went in for gas. Gas is much the safer, anyway. + + + + +BALD-FACE + + +"Talkin' of bear----" + +The Klondike King paused meditatively, and the group on the hotel porch +hitched their chairs up closer. + +"Talkin' of bear," he went on, "now up in the Northern Country there are +various kinds. On the Little Pelly, for instance, they come down that +thick in the summer to feed on the salmon that you can't get an Indian +or white man to go nigher than a day's journey to the place. And up +in the Rampart Mountains there's a curious kind of bear called the +'side-hill grizzly.' That's because he's traveled on the side-hills ever +since the Flood, and the two legs on the down-hill side are twice as +long as the two on the up-hill. And he can out-run a jack rabbit when he +gets steam up. Dangerous? Catch you! Bless you, no. All a man has to do +is to circle down the hill and run the other way. You see, that throws +mister bear's long legs up the hill and the short ones down. Yes, he's a +mighty peculiar creature, but that wasn't what I started in to tell +about. + +"They've got another kind of bear up on the Yukon, and his legs are all +right, too. He's called the bald-face grizzly, and he's jest as big as +he is bad. It's only the fool white men that think of hunting him. +Indians got too much sense. But there's one thing about the bald-face +that a man has to learn: he never gives the trail to mortal creature. +If you see him comin', and you value your skin, you get out of his path. +If you don't, there's bound to be trouble. If the bald-face met Jehovah +Himself on the trail, he'd not give him an inch. O, he's a selfish +beggar, take my word for it. But I had to learn all this. Didn't know +anything about bear when I went into the country, exceptin' when I was a +youngster I'd seen a heap of cinnamons and that little black kind. And +they was nothin' to be scared at. + +"Well, after we'd got settled down on our claim, I went up on the hill +lookin' for a likely piece of birch to make an ax-handle out of. But +it was pretty hard to find the right kind, and I kept a-goin' and kept +a-goin' for nigh on two hours. Wasn't in no hurry to make my choice, you +see, for I was headin' down to the Forks, where I was goin' to borrow a +log-bit from Old Joe Gee. When I started, I'd put a couple of sour-dough +biscuits and some sowbelly in my pocket in case I might get hungry. +And I'm tellin' you that lunch came in right handy before I was done +with it. + +"Bime-by I hit upon the likeliest little birch saplin', right in the +middle of a clump of jack pine. Jest as I raised my hand-ax I happened +to cast my eyes down the hill. There was a big bear comin' up, swingin' +along on all fours, right in my direction. It was a bald-face, but +little I knew then about such kind. + +"'Jest watch me scare him,' I says to myself, and I stayed out of sight +in the trees. + +"Well, I waited till he was about a hundred feet off, then out I runs +into the open. + +"'Oof! oof!' I hollered at him, expectin' to see him turn tail like +chain lightning. + +"Turn tail? He jest throwed up his head for one good look and came a +comin'. + +"'Oof! oof!' I hollered, louder'n ever. But he jest came a comin'. + +"'Consarn you!' I says to myself, gettin' mad. 'I'll make you jump the +trail.' + +"So I grabs my hat, and wavin' and hollerin' starts down the trail to +meet him. A big sugar pine had gone down in a windfall and lay about +breast high. I stops jest behind it, old bald-face comin' all the time. +It was jest then that fear came to me. I yelled like a Comanche Indian +as he raised up to come over the log, and fired my hat full in his face. +Then I lit out. + +"Say! I rounded the end of that log and put down the hill at a +two-twenty clip, old bald-face reachin' for me at every jump. At the +bottom was a broad, open flat, quarter of a mile to timber and full of +niggerheads. I knew if ever I slipped I was a goner, but I hit only the +high places till you couldn't a-seen my trail for smoke. And the old +devil snortin' along hot after me. Midway across, he reached for me, +jest strikin' the heel of my moccasin with his claw. Tell you I was +doin' some tall thinkin' jest then. I knew he had the wind of me and I +could never make the brush, so I pulled my little lunch out of my pocket +and dropped it on the fly. + +"Never looked back till I hit the timber, and then he was mouthing the +biscuits in a way which wasn't nice to see, considerin' how close he'd +been to me. I never slacked up. No, sir! Jest kept hittin' the trail for +all there was in me. But jest as I came around a bend, heelin' it right +lively I tell you, what'd I see in middle of the trail before me, and +comin' my way, but another bald-face! + +"'Whoof!' he says when he spotted me, and he came a-runnin.' + +"Instanter I was about and hittin' the back trail twice as fast as I'd +come. The way this one was puffin' after me, I'd clean forgot all about +the other bald-face. First thing I knew I seen him mosying along kind of +easy, wonderin' most likely what had become of me, and if I tasted as +good as my lunch. Say! when he seen me he looked real pleased. And then +he came a-jumpin' for me. + +"'Whoof!' he says. + +"'Whoof!' says the one behind me. + +"Bang I goes, slap off the trail sideways, a-plungin' and a-clawin' +through the brush like a wild man. By this time I was clean crazed; +thought the whole country was full of bald-faces. Next thing I +knows--whop, I comes up against something in a tangle of wild blackberry +bushes. Then that something hits me a slap and closes in on me. Another +bald-face! And then and there I knew I was gone for sure. But I made up +to die game, and of all the rampin' and roarin' and rippin' and tearin' +you ever see, that was the worst. + +"'My God! O my wife!' it says. And I looked and it was a man I was +hammering into kingdom come. + +"'Thought you was a bear,' says I. + +"He kind of caught his breath and looked at me. Then he says, 'Same +here.' + +"Seemed as though he'd been chased by a bald-face, too, and had hid in +the blackberries. So that's how we mistook each other. + +"But by that time the racket on the trail was something terrible, and we +didn't wait to explain matters. That afternoon we got Joe Gee and some +rifles and came back loaded for bear. Mebbe you won't believe me, but +when we got to the spot, there was the two bald-faces lyin' dead. You +see, when I jumped out, they came together, and each refused to give +trail to the other. So they fought it out. Talkin' of bear. As I was +sayin'----" + + + + +IN YEDDO BAY + + +Somewhere along Theater Street he had lost it. He remembered being +hustled somewhat roughly on the bridge over one of the canals that +cross that busy thoroughfare. Possibly some slant-eyed, light-fingered +pickpocket was even then enjoying the fifty-odd yen his purse had +contained. And then again, he thought, he might have lost it himself, +just lost it carelessly. + +Hopelessly, and for the twentieth time, he searched in all his pockets +for the missing purse. It was not there. His hand lingered in his +empty hip-pocket, and he woefully regarded the voluble and vociferous +restaurant-keeper, who insanely clamored: "Twenty-five sen! You pay now! +Twenty-five sen!" + +"But my purse!" the boy said. "I tell you I've lost it somewhere." + +Whereupon the restaurant-keeper lifted his arms indignantly and +shrieked: "Twenty-five sen! Twenty-five sen! You pay now!" + +Quite a crowd had collected, and it was growing embarrassing for Alf +Davis. + +It was so ridiculous and petty, Alf thought. Such a disturbance about +nothing! And, decidedly, he must be doing something. Thoughts of diving +wildly through that forest of legs, and of striking out at whomsoever +opposed him, flashed through his mind; but, as though divining his +purpose, one of the waiters, a short and chunky chap with an +evil-looking cast in one eye, seized him by the arm. + +"You pay now! You pay now! Twenty-five sen!" yelled the proprietor, +hoarse with rage. + +Alf was red in the face, too, from mortification; but he resolutely set +out on another exploration. He had given up the purse, pinning his last +hope on stray coins. In the little change-pocket of his coat he found +a ten-sen piece and five-copper sen; and remembering having recently +missed a ten-sen piece, he cut the seam of the pocket and resurrected +the coin from the depths of the lining. Twenty-five sen he held in his +hand, the sum required to pay for the supper he had eaten. He turned +them over to the proprietor, who counted them, grew suddenly calm, and +bowed obsequiously--in fact, the whole crowd bowed obsequiously and +melted away. + +Alf Davis was a young sailor, just turned sixteen, on board the _Annie +Mine_, an American sailing-schooner, which had run into Yokohama to +ship its season's catch of skins to London. And in this, his second trip +ashore, he was beginning to snatch his first puzzling glimpses of the +Oriental mind. He laughed when the bowing and kotowing was over, and +turned on his heel to confront another problem. How was he to get aboard +ship? It was eleven o'clock at night, and there would be no ship's boats +ashore, while the outlook for hiring a native boatman, with nothing but +empty pockets to draw upon, was not particularly inviting. + +Keeping a sharp lookout for shipmates, he went down to the pier. At +Yokohama there are no long lines of wharves. The shipping lies out at +anchor, enabling a few hundred of the short-legged people to make a +livelihood by carrying passengers to and from the shore. + +A dozen sampan men and boys hailed Alf and offered their services. He +selected the most favorable-looking one, an old and beneficent-appearing +man with a withered leg. Alf stepped into his sampan and sat down. +It was quite dark and he could not see what the old fellow was doing, +though he evidently was doing nothing about shoving off and getting +under way. At last he limped over and peered into Alf's face. + +"Ten sen," he said. + +"Yes, I know, ten sen," Alf answered carelessly. "But hurry up. American +schooner." + +"Ten sen. You pay now," the old fellow insisted. + +Alf felt himself grow hot all over at the hateful words "pay now." "You +take me to American schooner; then I pay," he said. + +But the man stood up patiently before him, held out his hand, and said, +"Ten sen. You pay now." + +Alf tried to explain. He had no money. He had lost his purse. But he +would pay. As soon as he got aboard the American schooner, then he would +pay. No; he would not even go aboard the American schooner. He would +call to his shipmates, and they would give the sampan man the ten sen +first. After that he would go aboard. So it was all right, of course. + +To all of which the beneficent-appearing old man replied: "You pay now. +Ten sen." And, to make matters worse, the other sampan men squatted on +the pier steps, listening. + +Alf, chagrined and angry, stood up to step ashore. But the old fellow +laid a detaining hand on his sleeve. "You give shirt now. I take you +'Merican schooner," he proposed. + +Then it was that all of Alf's American independence flamed up in his +breast. The Anglo-Saxon has a born dislike of being imposed upon, and +to Alf this was sheer robbery! Ten sen was equivalent to six American +cents, while his shirt, which was of good quality and was new, had cost +him two dollars. + +He turned his back on the man without a word, and went out to the end of +the pier, the crowd, laughing with great gusto, following at his heels. +The majority of them were heavy-set, muscular fellows, and the July +night being one of sweltering heat, they were clad in the least possible +raiment. The water-people of any race are rough and turbulent, and it +struck Alf that to be out at midnight on a pier-end with such a crowd of +wharfmen, in a big Japanese city, was not as safe as it might be. + +One burly fellow, with a shock of black hair and ferocious eyes, came +up. The rest shoved in after him to take part in the discussion. + +"Give me shoes," the man said. "Give me shoes now. I take you 'Merican +schooner." + +Alf shook his head, whereat the crowd clamored that he accept the +proposal. Now the Anglo-Saxon is so constituted that to browbeat or +bully him is the last way under the sun of getting him to do any certain +thing. He will dare willingly, but he will not permit himself to be +driven. So this attempt of the boatmen to force Alf only aroused all the +dogged stubbornness of his race. The same qualities were in him that are +in men who lead forlorn hopes; and there, under the stars, on the lonely +pier, encircled by the jostling and shouldering gang, he resolved that +he would die rather than submit to the indignity of being robbed of a +single stitch of clothing. Not value, but principle, was at stake. + +Then somebody thrust roughly against him from behind. He whirled about +with flashing eyes, and the circle involuntarily gave ground. But the +crowd was growing more boisterous. Each and every article of clothing he +had on was demanded by one or another, and these demands were shouted +simultaneously at the tops of very healthy lungs. + +Alf had long since ceased to say anything, but he knew that the +situation was getting dangerous, and that the only thing left to him +was to get away. His face was set doggedly, his eyes glinted like points +of steel, and his body was firmly and confidently poised. This air of +determination sufficiently impressed the boatmen to make them give way +before him when he started to walk toward the shore-end of the pier. But +they trooped along beside him and behind him, shouting and laughing more +noisily than ever. One of the youngsters, about Alf's size and build, +impudently snatched his cap from his head; but before he could put it on +his own head, Alf struck out from the shoulder, and sent the fellow +rolling on the stones. + +The cap flew out of his hand and disappeared among the many legs. Alf +did some quick thinking; his sailor pride would not permit him to leave +the cap in their hands. He followed in the direction it had sped, and +soon found it under the bare foot of a stalwart fellow, who kept his +weight stolidly upon it. Alf tried to get the cap out by a sudden jerk, +but failed. He shoved against the man's leg, but the man only grunted. +It was challenge direct, and Alf accepted it. Like a flash one leg was +behind the man and Alf had thrust strongly with his shoulder against the +fellow's chest. Nothing could save the man from the fierce vigorousness +of the trick, and he was hurled over and backward. + +Next, the cap was on Alf's head and his fists were up before him. Then +he whirled about to prevent attack from behind, and all those in that +quarter fled precipitately. This was what he wanted. None remained +between him and the shore end. The pier was narrow. Facing them and +threatening with his fist those who attempted to pass him on either +side, he continued his retreat. It was exciting work, walking backward +and at the same time checking that surging mass of men. But the +dark-skinned peoples, the world over, have learned to respect the white +man's fist; and it was the battles fought by many sailors, more than his +own warlike front, that gave Alf the victory. + +Where the pier adjoins the shore was the station of the harbor police, +and Alf backed into the electric-lighted office, very much to the +amusement of the dapper lieutenant in charge. The sampan men, grown +quiet and orderly, clustered like flies by the open door, through which +they could see and hear what passed. + +Alf explained his difficulty in few words, and demanded, as the +privilege of a stranger in a strange land, that the lieutenant put him +aboard in the police-boat. The lieutenant, in turn, who knew all the +"rules and regulations" by heart, explained that the harbor police were +not ferrymen, and that the police-boats had other functions to perform +than that of transporting belated and penniless sailor-men to their +ships. He also said he knew the sampan men to be natural-born robbers, +but that so long as they robbed within the law he was powerless. It +was their right to collect fares in advance, and who was he to command +them to take a passenger and collect fare at the journey's end? Alf +acknowledged the justice of his remarks, but suggested that while he +could not command he might persuade. The lieutenant was willing to +oblige, and went to the door, from where he delivered a speech to the +crowd. But they, too, knew their rights, and, when the officer had +finished, shouted in chorus their abominable "Ten sen! You pay now! +You pay now!" + +"You see, I can do nothing," said the lieutenant, who, by the way, spoke +perfect English. "But I have warned them not to harm or molest you, so +you will be safe, at least. The night is warm and half over. Lie down +somewhere and go to sleep. I would permit you to sleep here in the +office, were it not against the rules and regulations." + +Alf thanked him for his kindness and courtesy; but the sampan men had +aroused all his pride of race and doggedness, and the problem could not +be solved that way. To sleep out the night on the stones was an +acknowledgment of defeat. + +"The sampan men refuse to take me out?" + +The lieutenant nodded. + +"And you refuse to take me out?" + +Again the lieutenant nodded. + +"Well, then, it's not in the rules and regulations that you can prevent +my taking myself out?" + +The lieutenant was perplexed. "There is no boat," he said. + +"That's not the question," Alf proclaimed hotly. "If I take myself out, +everybody's satisfied and no harm done?" + +"Yes; what you say is true," persisted the puzzled lieutenant. "But you +cannot take yourself out." + +"You just watch me," was the retort. + +Down went Alf's cap on the office floor. Right and left he kicked off +his low-cut shoes. Trousers and shirt followed. + +"Remember," he said in ringing tones, "I, as a citizen of the United +States, shall hold you, the city of Yokohama, and the government of +Japan responsible for those clothes. Good night." + +He plunged through the doorway, scattering the astounded boatmen to +either side, and ran out on the pier. But they quickly recovered and ran +after him, shouting with glee at the new phase the situation had taken +on. It was a night long remembered among the water-folk of Yokohama +town. Straight to the end Alf ran, and, without pause, dived off cleanly +and neatly into the water. He struck out with a lusty, single-overhand +stroke till curiosity prompted him to halt for a moment. Out of the +darkness, from where the pier should be, voices were calling to him. + +He turned on his back, floated, and listened. + +"All right! All right!" he could distinguish from the babel. "No pay +now; pay bime by! Come back! Come back now; pay bime by!" + +"No, thank you," he called back. "No pay at all. Good night." + +Then he faced about in order to locate the _Annie Mine_. She was +fully a mile away, and in the darkness it was no easy task to get her +bearings. First, he settled upon a blaze of lights which he knew nothing +but a man-of-war could make. That must be the United States war-ship +_Lancaster_. Somewhere to the left and beyond should be the +_Annie Mine._ But to the left he made out three lights close +together. That could not be the schooner. For the moment he was +confused. He rolled over on his back and shut his eyes, striving to +construct a mental picture of the harbor as he had seen it in daytime. +With a snort of satisfaction he rolled back again. The three lights +evidently belonged to the big English tramp steamer. Therefore the +schooner must lie somewhere between the three lights and the +_Lancaster_. He gazed long and steadily, and there, very dim and +low, but at the point he expected, burned a single light--the +anchor-light of the _Annie Mine_. + +And it was a fine swim under the starshine. The air was warm as the +water, and the water as warm as tepid milk. The good salt taste of it +was in his mouth, the tingling of it along his limbs; and the steady +beat of his heart, heavy and strong, made him glad for living. + +But beyond being glorious the swim was uneventful. On the right hand he +passed the many-lighted _Lancaster_, on the left hand the English +tramp, and ere long the _Annie Mine_ loomed large above him. He +grasped the hanging rope-ladder and drew himself noiselessly on deck. +There was no one in sight. He saw a light in the galley, and knew that +the captain's son, who kept the lonely anchor-watch, was making coffee. +Alf went forward to the forecastle. The men were snoring in their bunks, +and in that confined space the heat seemed to him insufferable. So he +put on a thin cotton shirt and a pair of dungaree trousers, tucked +blanket and pillow under his arm, and went up on deck and out on the +fore-castle-head. + +Hardly had he begun to doze when he was roused by a boat coming +alongside and hailing the anchor-watch. It was the police-boat, and to +Alf it was given to enjoy the excited conversation that ensued. Yes, the +captain's son recognized the clothes. They belonged to Alf Davis, one of +the seamen. What had happened? No; Alf Davis had not come aboard. He +was ashore. He was not ashore? Then he must be drowned. Here both the +lieutenant and the captain's son talked at the same time, and Alf could +make out nothing. Then he heard them come forward and rouse out the +crew. The crew grumbled sleepily and said that Alf Davis was not in the +forecastle; whereupon the captain's son waxed indignant at the Yokohama +police and their ways, and the lieutenant quoted rules and regulations +in despairing accents. + +Alf rose up from the forecastle-head and extended his hand, saying: + +"I guess I'll take those clothes. Thank you for bringing them aboard so +promptly." + +"I don't see why he couldn't have brought you aboard inside of them," +said the captain's son. + +And the police lieutenant said nothing, though he turned the clothes +over somewhat sheepishly to their rightful owner. + +The next day, when Alf started to go ashore, he found himself surrounded +by shouting and gesticulating, though very respectful, sampan men, all +extraordinarily anxious to have him for a passenger. Nor did the one +he selected say, "You pay now," when he entered his boat. "When Alf +prepared to step out on to the pier, he offered the man the customary +ten sen. But the man drew himself up and shook his head. + +"You all right," he said. "You no pay. You never no pay. You bully boy +and all right." + +And for the rest of the _Annie Mine's_ stay in port, the sampan men +refused money at Alf Davis's hand. Out of admiration for his pluck and +independence, they had given him the freedom of the harbor. + + + + +WHOSE BUSINESS IS TO LIVE + + +Stanton Davies and Jim Wemple ceased from their talk to listen to an +increase of uproar in the street. A volley of stones thrummed and boomed +the wire mosquito nettings that protected the windows. It was a hot +night, and the sweat of the heat stood on their faces as they listened. +Arose the incoherent clamor of the mob, punctuated by individual cries +in Mexican-Spanish. Least terrible among the obscene threats were: +"Death to the Gringos!" "Kill the American pigs!" "Drown the American +dogs in the sea!" + +Stanton Davies and Jim Wemple shrugged their shoulders patiently to each +other, and resumed their conversation, talking louder in order to make +themselves heard above the uproar. + +"The question is _how_," Wemple said. "It's forty-seven miles to +Panuco, by river----" + +"And the land's impossible, with Zaragoza's and Villa's men on the loot +and maybe fraternizing," Davies agreed. + +Wemple nodded and continued: "And she's at the East Coast Magnolia, two +miles beyond, if she isn't back at the hunting camp. We've got to get +her----" + +"We've played pretty square in this matter, Wemple," Davies said. "And +we might as well speak up and acknowledge what each of us knows the +other knows. You want her. I want her." + +Wemple lighted a cigarette and nodded. + +"And now's the time when it's up to us to make a show as if we didn't +want her and that all we want is just to save her and get her down +here." + +"And a truce until we do save her--I get you," Wempel affirmed. + +"A truce until we get her safe and sound back here in Tampico, or aboard +a battleship. After that? ..." + +Both men shrugged shoulders and beamed on each other as their hands met +in ratification. + +Fresh volleys of stones thrummed against the wire-screened windows; a +boy's voice rose shrilly above the clamor, proclaiming death to the +Gringos; and the house reverberated to the heavy crash of some battering +ram against the street-door downstairs. Both men, snatching up automatic +rifles, ran down to where their fire could command the threatened door. + +"If they break in we've got to let them have it," Wemple said. + +Davies nodded quiet agreement, then inconsistently burst out with a +lurid string of oaths. + +"To think of it!" he explained his wrath. "One out of three of those +curs outside has worked for you or me--lean-bellied, barefooted, +poverty-stricken, glad for ten centavos a day if they could only get +work. And we've given them steady jobs and a hundred and fifty centavos +a a day, and here they are yelling for our blood." + +"Only the half breeds," Davies corrected. + +"You know what I mean," Wemple replied. "The only peons we've lost are +those that have been run off or shot." + +The attack on the door ceasing, they returned upstairs. Half a dozen +scattered shots from farther along the street seemed to draw away the +mob, for the neighborhood became comparatively quiet. + +A whistle came to them through the open windows, and a man's voice +calling: + +"Wemple! Open the door! It's Habert! Want to talk to you!" + +Wemple went down, returning in several minutes with a tidily-paunched, +well-built, gray-haired American of fifty. He shook hands with Davies +and flung himself into a chair, breathing heavily. He did not relinquish +his clutch on the Colt's 44 automatic pistol, although he immediately +addressed himself to the task of fishing a filled clip of cartridges +from the pocket of his linen coat. He had arrived hatless and +breathless, and the blood from a stone-cut on the cheek oozed down his +face. He, too, in a fit of anger, springing to his feet when he had +changed clips in his pistol, burst out with mouth-filling profanity. + +"They had an American flag in the dirt, stamping and spitting on it. And +they told me to spit on it." + +Wemple and Davies regarded him with silent interrogation. + +"Oh, I know what you're wondering!" he flared out. "Would I a-spit on it +in the pinch? That's what's eating you. I'll answer. Straight out, brass +tacks, I WOULD. Put that in your pipe and smoke it." + +He paused to help himself to a cigar from the box on the table and to +light it with a steady and defiant hand. + +"Hell!--I guess this neck of the woods knows Anthony Habert, and you can +bank on it that it's never located his yellow streak. Sure, in the +pinch, I'd spit on Old Glory. What the hell d'ye think I'm going on the +streets for a night like this? Didn't I skin out of the Southern Hotel +half an hour ago, where there are forty buck Americans, not counting +their women, and all armed? That was safety. What d'ye think I came here +for?--to rescue you?" + +His indignation lumped his throat into silence, and he seemed shaken as +with an apoplexy. + +"Spit it out," Davies commanded dryly. + +"I'll tell you," Habert exploded. "It's Billy Boy. Fifty miles up +country and twenty-thousand throat-cutting federals and rebels between +him and me. D'ye know what that boy'd do, if he was here in Tampico and +I was fifty miles up the Panuco? Well, I know. And I'm going to do the +same--go and get him." + +"We're figuring on going up," Wemple assured him. + +"And that's why I headed here--Miss Drexel, of course?" + +Both men acquiesced and smiled. It was a time when men dared speak of +matters which at other times tabooed speech. + +"Then the thing's to get started," Habert exclaimed, looking at his +watch. "It's midnight now. We've got to get to the river and get a +boat--" + +But the clamor of the returning mob came through the windows in answer. + +Davies was about to speak, when the telephone rang, and Wemple sprang to +the instrument. + +"It's Carson," he interjected, as he listened. "They haven't cut the +wires across the river yet.--Hello, Carson. Was it a break or a cut? ... +Bully for you.... Yes, move the mules across to the potrero beyond +Tamcochin.... Who's at the water station? ... Can you still 'phone +him? ... Tell him to keep the tanks full, and to shut off the main to +Arico. Also, to hang on till the last minute, and keep a horse saddled +to cut and run for it. Last thing before he runs, he must jerk out the +'phone.... Yes, yes, yes. Sure. No breeds. Leave full-blooded Indians in +charge. Gabriel is a good _hombre_. Heaven knows, once we're chased +out, when we'll get back.... You can't pinch down Jaramillo under +twenty-five hundred barrels. We've got storage for ten days. Gabriel'll +have to handle it. Keep it moving, if we have to run it into the +river----" + +"Ask him if he has a launch," Habert broke in. + +"He hasn't," was Wemple's answer. "The federals commandeered the last +one at noon." + +"Say, Carson, how are you going to make your get-away?" Wemple queried. + +The man to whom he talked was across the Panuco, on the south side, at +the tank farm. + +"Says there isn't any get-away," Wemple vouchsafed to the other two. +"The federals are all over the shop, and he can't understand why they +haven't raided him hours ago." + +"... Who? Campos? That skunk! ... all right.... Don't be worried if you +don't hear from me. I'm going up river with Davies and Habert.... Use +your judgment, and if you get a safe chance at Campos, pot him.... Oh, +a hot time over here. They're battering our doors now. Yes, by all +means ... Good-by, old man." + +Wemple lighted a cigarette and wiped his forehead. + +"You know Campos, José H. Campos," he +volunteered. "The dirty cur's stuck Carson up +for twenty thousand pesos. We had to pay, +or he'd have compelled half our peons to enlist +or set the wells on fire. And you know, +Davies, what we've done for him in past years. +Gratitude? Simple decency? Great Scott!" + + * * * * * + +It was the night of April twenty-first. On the morning of the +twenty-first the American marines and bluejackets had landed at Vera +Cruz and seized the custom house and the city. Immediately the news was +telegraphed, the vengeful Mexican mob had taken possession of the +streets of Tampico and expressed its disapproval of the action of the +United States by tearing down American flags and crying death to the +Americans. + +There was nothing save its own spinelessness to deter the mob from +carrying out its threat. Had it battered down the doors of the Southern +Hotel, or of other hotels, or of residences such as Wemple's, a fight +would have started in which the thousands of federal soldiers in Tampico +would have joined their civilian compatriots in the laudable task of +decreasing the Gringo population of that particular portion of Mexico. +There should have been American warships to act as deterrents; but +through some inexplicable excess of delicacy, or strategy, or heaven +knows what, the United States, when it gave its orders to take Vera +Cruz, had very carefully withdrawn its warships from Tampico to the open +Gulf a dozen miles away. This order had come to Admiral Mayo by wireless +from Washington, and thrice he had demanded the order to be repeated, +ere, with tears in his eyes, he had turned his back on his countrymen +and countrywomen and steamed to sea. + + * * * * * + +"Of all asinine things, to leave us in the lurch this way!" Habert was +denouncing the powers that be of his country. "Mayo'd never have done +it. Mark my words, he had to take program from Washington. And here we +are, and our dear ones scattered for fifty miles back up country.... +Say, if I lose Billy Boy I'll never dare go home to face the wife.--Come +on. Let the three of us make a start. We can throw the fear of God into +any gang on the streets." + +"Come on over and take a squint," Davies invited from where he stood, +somewhat back from the window, looking down into the street. + +It was gorged with rioters, all haranguing, cursing, crying out death, +and urging one another to smash the doors, but each hanging back from +the death he knew waited behind those doors for the first of the rush. + +"We can't break through a bunch like that, Habert," was Davies' comment. + +"And if we die under their feet we'll be of little use to Billy Boy or +anybody else up the Panuco," Wemple added. "And if----" + +A new movement of the mob caused him to break off. It was splitting +before a slow and silent advance of a file of white-clad men. + +"Bluejackets--Mayo's come back for us after all," Habert muttered. + +"Then we can get a navy launch," Davies said. + +The bedlam of the mob died away, and, in silence, the sailors reached +the street door and knocked for admittance. All three went down to open +it, and to discover that the callers were not Americans but two German +lieutenants and half a dozen German marines. At sight of the Americans, +the rage of the mob rose again, and was quelled by the grounding of the +rifle butts of the marines. + +"No, thank you," the senior lieutenant, in passable English, declined +the invitation to enter. He unconcernedly kept his cigar alive at such +times that the mob drowned his voice. "We are on the way back to our +ship. Our commander conferred with the English and Dutch commanders; but +they declined to cooperate, so our commander has undertaken the entire +responsibility. We have been the round of the hotels. They are to hold +their own until daybreak, when we'll take them off. We have given them +rockets such as these.--Take them. If your house is entered, hold your +own and send up a rocket from the roof. We can be here in force, in +forty-five minutes. Steam is up in all our launches, launch crews and +marines for shore duty are in the launches, and at the first rocket we +shall start." + +"Since you are going aboard now, we should like to go with you," Davies +said, after having rendered due thanks. + +The surprise and distaste on both lieutenants' faces was patent. + +"Oh, no," Davies laughed. "We don't want refuge. We have friends fifty +miles up river, and we want to get to the river in order to go up after +them." + +The pleasure on the officers' faces was immediate as they looked a +silent conference at each other. + +"Since our commander has undertaken grave responsibility on a night like +this, may we do less than take minor responsibility?" queried the elder. + +To this the younger heartily agreed. In a trice, upstairs and down +again, equipped with extra ammunition, extra pistols, and a +pocket-bulging supply of cigars, cigarettes and matches, the three +Americans were ready. Wemple called last instructions up the stairway to +imaginary occupants being left behind, ascertained that the spring lock +was on, and slammed the door. + +The officers led, followed by the Americans, the rear brought up by the +six marines; and the spitting, howling mob, not daring to cast a stone, +gave way before them. + + * * * * * + +As they came alongside the gangway of the cruiser, they saw launches and +barges lying in strings to the boat-booms, filled with men, waiting for +the rocket signal from the beleaguered hotels. A gun thundered from +close at hand, up river, followed by the thunder of numerous guns and +the reports of many rifles fired very rapidly. + +"Now what's the _Topila_ whanging away at?" Habert complained, then +joined the others in gazing at the picture. + +A searchlight, evidently emanating from the Mexican gunboat, was +stabbing the darkness to the middle of the river, where it played upon +the water. And across the water, the center of the moving circle of +light, flashed a long, lean speedboat. A shell burst in the air a +hundred feet astern of it. Somewhere, outside the light, other shells +were bursting in the water; for they saw the boat rocked by the waves +from the explosions. They could guess the whizzing of the rifle bullets. + +But for only several minutes the spectacle lasted. Such was the speed of +the boat that it gained shelter behind the German, when the Mexican +gunboat was compelled to cease fire. The speedboat slowed down, turned +in a wide and heeling circle, and ranged up alongside the launch at the +gangway. + +The lights from the gangway showed but one occupant, a tow-headed, +greasy-faced, blond youth of twenty, very lean, very calm, very much +satisfied with himself. + +"If it ain't Peter Tonsburg!" Habert ejaculated, reaching out a hand to +shake. "Howdy, Peter, howdy. And where in hell are you hellbent for, +surging by the _Topila_ in such scandalous fashion!" + +Peter, a Texas-born Swede of immigrant parents, filled with the old +Texas traditions, greasily shook hands with Wemple and Davies as well, +saying "Howdy," as only the Texan born can say it. + +"Me," he answered Habert. "I ain't hellbent nowhere exceptin' to get +away from the shell-fire. She's a caution, that _Topila_. Huh! but +I limbered 'em up some. I was goin' every inch of twenty-five. They was +like amateurs blazin' away at canvasback." + +"Which _Chill_ is it?" Wemple asked. + +"_Chill II_," Peter answered. "It's all that's left. _Chill I_ +a Greaser--you know 'm--Campos--commandeered this noon. I was runnin' +_Chill III_ when they caught me at sundown. Made me come in under +their guns at the East Coast outfit, and fired me out on my neck. + +"Now the boss'd gone over in this one to Tampico in the early evening, +and just about ten minutes ago I spots it landin' with a sousy bunch of +Federals at the East Coast, and swipes it back according. Where's the +boss? He ain't hurt, is he? Because I'm going after him." + +"No, you're not, Peter," Davies said. "Mr. Frisbie is safe at the +Southern Hotel, all except a five-inch scalp wound from a brick that's +got him down with a splitting headache. He's safe, so you're going with +us, going to take us, I mean, up beyond Panuco town." + +"Huh?--I can see myself," Peter retorted, wiping his greasy nose on a +wad of greasy cotton waste. "I got some cold. Besides, this +night-drivin' ain't good for my complexion." + +"My boy's up there," Habert said. + +"Well, he's bigger'n I am, and I reckon he can take care of himself." + +"And there's a woman there--Miss Drexel," Davies said quietly. + +"Who? Miss Drexel? Why didn't you say so at first!" Peter demanded +grievedly. He sighed and added, "Well, climb in an' make a start. Better +get your Dutch friends to donate me about twenty gallons of gasoline if +you want to get anywhere." + + * * * * * + +"Won't do you no good to lay low," Peter Tonsburg remarked, as, at full +speed, headed up river, the _Topila's_ searchlight stabbed them. +"High or low, if one of them shells hits in the vicinity--_good +night_!" + +Immediately thereafter the _Topila_ erupted. The roar of the +_Chill's_ exhaust nearly drowned the roar of the guns, but the +fragile hull of the craft was shaken and rocked by the bursting shells. +An occasional bullet thudded into or pinged off the _Chill_, and, +despite Peter's warning that, high or low, they were bound to get it if +it came to them, every man on board, including Peter, crouched, with +chest contracted by drawn-in shoulders, in an instinctive and purely +unconscious effort to lessen the area of body he presented as a target +or receptacle for flying fragments of steel. + +The _Topila_ was a federal gunboat. To complicate the affair, the +constitutionalists, gathered on the north shore in the siege of Tampico, +opened up on the speedboat with many rifles and a machine gun. + +"Lord, I'm glad they're Mexicans, and not Americans," Habert observed, +after five mad minutes in which no damage had been received. "Mexicans +are born with guns in their hands, and they never learn to use them." + +Nor was the _Chill_ or any man aboard damaged when at last she +rounded the bend of river that shielded her from the searchlight. + +"I'll have you in Panuco town in less'n three hours, ... if we don't hit +a log," Peter leaned back and shouted in Wemple's ear. "And if we do hit +driftwood, I'll have you in the swim quicker than that." + +_Chill II_ tore her way through the darkness, steered by the +tow-headed youth who knew every foot of the river and who guided his +course by the loom of the banks in the dim starlight. A smart breeze, +kicking up spiteful wavelets on the wider reaches, splashed them with +sheeted water as well as fine-flung spray. And, in the face of the +warmth of the tropic night, the wind, added to the speed of the boat, +chilled them through their wet clothes. + +"Now I know why she was named the _Chill_," Habert observed betwixt +chattering teeth. + +But conversation languished during the nearly three hours of drive +through the darkness. Once, by the exhaust, they knew that they passed +an unlighted launch bound down stream. And once, a glare of light, near +the south bank, as they passed through the Toreno field, aroused brief +debate as to whether it was the Toreno wells, or the bungalow on +Merrick's banana plantation that flared so fiercely. + +At the end of an hour, Peter slowed down and ran in to the bank. + +"I got a cache of gasoline here--ten gallons," he explained, "and it's +just as well to know it's here for the back trip." Without leaving the +boat, fishing arm-deep into the brush, he announced, "All hunky-dory." +He proceeded to oil the engine. "Huh!" he soliloquized for their +benefit. "I was just readin' a magazine yarn last night. 'Whose Business +Is to Die,' was its title. An' all I got to say is, 'The hell it is.' A +man's business is to live. Maybe you thought it was our business to die +when the _Topila_ was pepper-in' us. But you was wrong. We're +alive, ain't we? We beat her to it. That's the game. Nobody's got any +business to die. I ain't never goin' to die, if I've got any say about +it." + +He turned over the crank, and the roar and rush of the _Chill_ put +an end to speech. + +There was no need for Wemple or Davies to speak further in the affair +closest to their hearts. Their truce to love-making had been made as +binding as it was brief, and each rival honored the other with a firm +belief that he would commit no infraction of the truce. Afterward was +another matter. In the meantime they were one in the effort to get Beth +Drexel back to the safety of riotous Tampico or of a war vessel. + +It was four o'clock when they passed by Panuco Town. Shouts and songs +told them that the federal detachment holding the place was celebrating +its indignation at the landing of American bluejackets in Vera Cruz. +Sentinels challenged the _Chill_ from the shore and shot at random +at the noise of her in the darkness. + +A mile beyond, where a lighted river steamer with steam up lay at the +north bank, they ran in at the Apshodel wells. The steamer was small, +and the nearly two hundred Americans--men, women, and children--crowded +her capacity. Blasphemous greetings of pure joy and geniality were +exchanged between the men, and Habert learned that the steamboat was +waiting for his Billy Boy, who, astride a horse, was rounding up +isolated drilling gangs who had not yet learned that the United States +had seized Vera Cruz and that all Mexico was boiling. + +Habert climbed out to wait and to go down on the steamer, while the +three that remained on the _Chill_, having learned that Miss Drexel +was not with the refugees, headed for the Dutch Company on the south +shore. This was the big gusher, pinched down from one hundred and +eighty-five thousand daily barrels to the quantity the company +was able to handle. Mexico had no quarrel with Holland, so that the +superintendent, while up, with night guards out to prevent drunken +soldiers from firing his vast lakes of oil, was quite unemotional. Yes, +the last he had heard was that Miss Drexel and her brother were back at +the hunting lodge. No; he had not sent any warnings, and he doubted that +anybody else had. Not till ten o'clock the previous evening had he +learned of the landing at Vera Cruz. The Mexicans had turned nasty as +soon as they heard of it, and they had killed Miles Forman at the Empire +Wells, run off his labor, and looted the camp. Horses? No; he didn't +have horse or mule on the place. The federals had commandeered the last +animal weeks back. It was his belief, however, that there were a couple +of plugs at the lodge, too worthless even for the Mexicans to take. + +"It's a hike," Davies said cheerfully. + +"Six miles of it," Wemple agreed, equally cheerfully. "Let's beat it." + +A shot from the river, where they had left Peter in the boat, started +them on the run for the bank. A scattering of shots, as from two rifles, +followed. And while the Dutch superintendent, in execrable Spanish, +shouted affirmations of Dutch neutrality into the menacing dark, across +the gunwale of _Chill II_ they found the body of the tow-headed +youth whose business it had been not to die. + + * * * * * + +For the first hour, talking little, Davies and Wemple stumbled along the +apology for a road that led through the jungle to the lodge. They did +discuss the glares of several fires to the east along the south bank of +Panuco River, and hoped fervently that they were dwellings and not +wells. + +"Two billion dollars worth of oil right here in the Ebańo field alone," +Davies grumbled. + +"And a drunken Mexican, whose whole carcass and immortal soul aren't +worth ten pesos including hair, hide, and tallow, can start the bonfire +with a lighted wad of cotton waste," was Wemple's contribution. "And if +ever she starts, she'll gut the field of its last barrel." + +Dawn, at five, enabled them to accelerate their pace; and six o'clock +found them routing out the occupants of the lodge. + +"Dress for rough travel, and don't stop for any frills," Wemple called +around the corner of Miss Drexel's screened sleeping porch. + +"Not a wash, nothing," Davies supplemented grimly, as he shook hands +with Charley Drexel, who yawned and slippered up to them in pajamas. +"Where are those horses, Charley? Still alive?" + +Wemple finished giving orders to the sleepy peons to remain and care for +the place, occupying their spare time with hiding the more valuable +things, and was calling around the corner to Miss Drexel the news of the +capture of Vera Cruz, when Davies returned with the information that the +horses consisted of a pair of moth-eaten skates that could be depended +upon to lie down and die in the first half mile. + +Beth Drexel emerged, first protesting that under no circumstances would +she be guilty of riding the creatures, and, next, her brunette skin and +dark eyes still flushed warm with sleep, greeting the two rescuers. + +"It would be just as well if you washed your face, Stanton," she told +Davies; and, to Wemple: "You're just as bad, Jim. You are a pair of +dirty boys." + +"And so will you be," Wemple assured her, "before you get back to +Tampico. Are you ready?" + +"As soon as Juanita packs my hand bag." + +"Heavens, Beth, don't waste time!" exclaimed Wemple. "Jump in and grab +up what you want." + +"Make a start--make a start," chanted Davies. "Hustle! Hustle!--Charley, +get the rifle you like best and take it along. Get a couple for us." + +"Is it as serious as that?" Miss Drexel queried. + +Both men nodded. + +"The Mexicans are tearing loose," Davies explained. "How they missed +this place I don't know." A movement in the adjoining room startled him. +"Who's that?" he cried. + +"Why, Mrs. Morgan," Miss Drexel answered. + +"Good heavens, Wemple, I'd forgotten _her_," groaned Davies. "How +will we ever get her anywhere?" + +"Let Beth walk, and relay the lady on the nags." + +"She weighs a hundred and eighty," Miss Drexel laughed. "Oh, hurry, +Martha! We're waiting on you to start!" + +Muffled speech came through the partition, and then emerged a very +short, stout, much-flustered woman of middle age. + +"I simply can't walk, and you boys needn't demand it of me," was her +plaint. "It's no use. I couldn't walk half a mile to save my life, and +it's six of the worst miles to the river." + +They regarded her in despair. + +"Then you'll ride," said Davies. "Come on, Charley. We'll get a saddle +on each of the nags." + +Along the road through the tropic jungle, Miss Drexel and Juanita, +her Indian maid, led the way. Her brother, carrying the three rifles, +brought up the rear, while in the middle Davies and Wemple struggled +with Mrs. Morgan and the two decrepit steeds. One, a flea-bitten roan, +groaned continually from the moment Mrs. Morgan's burden was put upon +him till she was shifted to the other horse. And this other, a mangy +sorrel, invariably lay down at the end of a quarter of a mile of Mrs. +Morgan. + +Miss Drexel laughed and joked and encouraged; and Wemple, in brutal +fashion, compelled Mrs. Morgan to walk every third quarter of a mile. +At the end of an hour the sorrel refused positively to get up, and, so, +was abandoned. Thereafter, Mrs. Morgan rode the roan alternate quarters +of miles, and between times walked--if _walk_ may describe her +stumbling progress on two preposterously tiny feet with a man supporting +her on either side. + +A mile from the river, the road became more civilized, running along the +side of a thousand acres of banana plantation. + +"Parslow's," young Drexel said. "He'll lose a year's crop now on account +of this mix-up." + +"Oh, look what I've found!" Miss Drexel called from the lead. + +"First machine that ever tackled this road," was young Drexel's +judgment, as they halted to stare at the tire-tracks. + +"But look at the tracks," his sister urged. "The machine must have come +right out of the bananas and climbed the bank." + +"Some machine to climb a bank like that," was Davies' comment. "What it +did do was to go down the bank--take a scout after it, Charley, while +Wemple and I get Mrs. Morgan off her fractious mount. No machine ever +built could travel far through those bananas." + +The flea-bitten roan, on its four legs upstanding, continued bravely to +stand until the lady was removed, whereupon, with a long sigh, it sank +down on the ground. Mrs. Morgan likewise sighed, sat down, and regarded +her tiny feet mournfully. + +"Go on, boys," she said. "Maybe you can find something at the river and +send back for me." + +But their indignant rejection of the plan never attained speech, for, at +that instant, from the green sea of banana trees beneath them, came the +sudden purr of an engine. A minute later the splutter of an exhaust told +them the silencer had been taken off. The huge-fronded banana trees were +violently agitated as by the threshing of a hidden Titan. They could +identify the changing of gears and the reversing and going ahead, until, +at the end of five minutes, a long low, black car burst from the wall of +greenery and charged the soft earth bank, but the earth was too soft, +and when, two-thirds of the way up, beaten, Charley Drexel braked the +car to a standstill, the earth crumbled from under the tires, and he ran +it down and back, the way he had come, until half-buried in the bananas. + +"'A Merry Oldsmobile!'" Miss Drexel quoted from the popular song, +clapping her hands. "Now, Martha, your troubles are over." + +"Six-cylinder, and sounds as if it hadn't been out of the shop a week, +or may I never ride in a machine again," Wemple remarked, looking to +Davies for confirmation. + +Davies nodded. + +"It's Allison's," he said. "Campos tried to shake him down for a private +loan, and--well, you know Allison. He told Campos to go to. And Campos, +in revenge, commandeered his new car. That was two days ago, before we +lifted a hand at Vera Cruz. Allison told me yesterday the last he'd +heard of the car it was on a steamboat bound up river. And here's where +they ditched it--but let's get a hustle on and get her into the +running." + +Three attempts they made, with young Drexel at the wheel; but the soft +earth and the pitch of the grade baffled. + +"She's got the power all right," young Drexel protested. "But she can't +bite into that mush." + +So far, they had spread on the ground the robes found in the car. +The men now added their coats, and Wemple, for additional traction, +unsaddled the roan, and spread the cinches, stirrup leathers, saddle +blanket, and bridle in the way of the wheels. The car took the +treacherous slope in a rush, with churning wheels biting into the woven +fabrics; and, with no more than a hint of hesitation, it cleared the +crest and swung into the road. + +"Isn't she the spunky devil!" Drexel exulted. "Say, she could climb the +side of a house if she could get traction." + +"Better put on that silencer again, if you don't want to play tag with +every soldier in the district," Wemple ordered, as they helped Mrs. +Morgan in. + +The road to the Dutch gusher compelled them to go through the outskirts +of Panuco town. Indian and half breed women gazed stolidly at the +strange vehicle, while the children and barking dogs clamorously +advertised its progress. Once, passing long lines of tethered federal +horses, they were challenged by a sentry; but at Wemple's "Throw on the +juice!" the car took the rutted road at fifty miles an hour. A shot +whistled after them. But it was not the shot that made Mrs. Morgan +scream. The cause was a series of hog-wallows masked with mud, which +nearly tore the steering wheel from Drexel's hands before he could +reduce speed. + +"Wonder it didn't break an axle," Davies growled. "Go on and take it +easy, Charley. We're past any interference." + +They swung into the Dutch camp and into the beginning of their real +troubles. The refugee steamboat had departed down river from the +Asphodel camp; _Chill II_ had disappeared, the superintendent knew +not how, along with the body of Peter Tonsburg; and the superintendent +was dubious of their remaining. + +"I've got to consider the owners," he told them. "This is the biggest +well in Mexico, and you know it--a hundred and eighty-five thousand +barrels daily flow. I've no right to risk it. We have no trouble with +the Mexicans. It's you Americans. If you stay here, I'll have to protect +you. And I can't protect you, anyway. We'll all lose our lives and +they'll destroy the well in the bargain. And if they fire it, it means +the entire Ebańo oil field. The strata's too broken. We're flowing +twenty thousand barrels now, and we can't pinch down any further. As it +is, the oil's coming up outside the pipe. And we can't have a fight. +We've got to keep the oil moving." + +The men nodded. It was cold-blooded logic; but there was no fault to it. + +The harassed expression eased on the superintendent's face, and he +almost beamed on them for agreeing with him. + +"You've got a good machine there," he continued. "The ferry's at the +bank at Panuco, and once you're across, the rebels aren't so thick on +the north shore. Why, you can beat the steamboat back to Tampico by +hours. And it hasn't rained for days. The road won't be at all bad." + + * * * * * + +"Which is all very good," Davies observed to Wemple as they approached +Panuco, "except for the fact that the road on the other side was never +built for automobiles, much less for a long-bodied one like this. I wish +it were the Four instead of the Six." + +"And it would bother you with a Four to negotiate that hill at Aliso +where the road switchbacks above the river." + +"And we're going to do it with a Six or lose a perfectly good Six in +trying," Beth Drexel laughed to them. + +Avoiding the cavalry camp, they entered Panuco with all the speed the +ruts permitted, swinging dizzy corners to the squawking of chickens and +barking of dogs. To gain the ferry, they had to pass down one side of +the great plaza which was the heart of the city. Peon soldiers, drowsing +in the sun or clustering around the _cantinas_, stared stupidly at +them as they flashed past. Then a drunken major shouted a challenge from +the doorway of a _cantina_ and began vociferating orders, and as +they left the plaza behind they could hear rising the familiar mob-cry +"_Kill the Gringoes!_" + +"If any shooting begins, you women get down in the bottom of the car," +Davies commanded. "And there's the ferry all right. Be careful, +Charley." + +The machine plunged directly down the bank through a cut so deep that it +was more like a chute, struck the gangplank with a terrific bump, and +seemed fairly to leap on board. The ferry was scarcely longer than the +machine, and Drexel, visibly shaken by the closeness of the shave, +managed to stop only when six inches remained between the front wheels +and overboard. + +It was a cable ferry, operated by gasoline, and, while Wemple cast off +the mooring lines, Davies was making swift acquaintance with the engine. +The third turn-over started it, and he threw it into gear with the +windlass that began winding up the cable from the river's bottom. + +By the time they were in midstream a score of horsemen rode out on the +bank they had just left and opened a scattering fire. The party crowded +in the shelter of the car and listened to the occasional richochet of a +bullet. Once, only, the car was struck. + +"Here!--what are you up to!" Wemple demanded suddenly of Drexel, who had +exposed himself to fish a rifle out of the car. + +"Going to show the skunks what shooting is," was his answer. + +"No, you don't," Wemple said. "We're not here to fight, but to get +this party to Tampico." He remembered Peter Tonsburg's remark. "Whose +business is to live, Charley--that's our business. Anybody can get +killed. It's too easy these days." + +Still under fire, they moored at the north shore, and when Davies had +tossed overboard the igniter from the ferry engine and commandeered ten +gallons of its surplus gasoline, they took the steep, soft road up the +bank in a rush. + +"Look at her climb," Drexel uttered gleefully. "That Aliso hill won't +bother us at all. She'll put a crimp in it, that's what she'll do." + +"It isn't the hill, it's the sharp turn of the zig-zag that's liable to +put a crimp in her," Davies answered. "That road was never laid out for +autos, and no auto has ever been over it. They steamboated this one up." + +But trouble came before Aliso was reached. Where the road dipped +abruptly into a small jag of hollow that was almost V-shaped, it arose +out and became a hundred yards of deep sand. In order to have speed left +for the sand after he cleared the stiff up-grade of the V, Drexel was +compelled to hit the trough of the V with speed. Wemple clutched Miss +Drexel as she was on the verge of being bounced out. Mrs. Morgan, too +solid for such airiness, screamed from the pain of the bump; and even +the imperturbable Juanita fell to crossing herself and uttering prayers +with exceeding rapidity. + +The car cleared the crest and encountered the sand, going slower from +moment to moment, slewing and writhing and squirming from side to side. +The men leaped out and began shoving. Miss Drexel urged Juanita out and +followed. But the car came to a standstill, and Drexel, looking back and +pointing, showed the first sign of being beaten. Two things he pointed +to: a constitutional soldier on horseback a quarter of a mile in the +rear; and a portion of the narrow road that had fallen out bodily on the +far slope of the V. + +"Can't get at this sand unless we go back and try over, and we ditch the +car if we try to back up that." + +The ditch was a huge natural sump-hole, the stagnant surface of which +was a-crawl with slime twenty feet beneath. + +Davies and Wemple sprang to take the boy's place. + +"You can't do it," he urged. "You can get the back wheels past, but +right there you hit that little curve, and if you make it your front +wheel will be off the bank. If you don't make it, your back wheel'll be +off." + +Both men studied it carefully, then looked at each other. + +"We've got to," said Davies. + +"And we're going to," Wemple said, shoving his rival aside in comradely +fashion and taking the post of danger at the wheel. "You're just as good +as I at the wheel, Davies," he explained. "But you're a better shot. +Your job's cut out to go back and hold off any Greasers that show up." + +Davies took a rifle and strolled back with so ominous an air that the +lone cavalryman put spurs to his horse and fled. Mrs. Morgan was helped +out and sent plodding and tottering unaided on her way to the end of the +sand stretch. Miss Drexel and Juanita joined Charley in spreading the +coats and robes on the sand and in gathering and spreading small +branches, brush, and armfuls of a dry, brittle shrub. But all three +ceased from their exertions to watch Wemple as he shot the car backward +down the V and up. The car seemed first to stand on one end, then on the +other, and to reel drunkenly and to threaten to turn over into the +sump-hole when its right front wheel fell into the air where the road +had ceased to be. But the hind wheels bit and climbed the grade and out. + +Without pause, gathering speed down the perilous slope, Wemple came +ahead and up, gaining fifty feet of sand over the previous failure. More +of the alluvial soil of the road had dropped out at the bad place; but +he took the V in reverse, overhung the front wheel as before, and from +the top came ahead again. Four times he did this, gaining each time, but +each time knocking a bigger hole where the road fell out, until Miss +Drexel begged him not to try again. + +He pointed to a squad of horsemen coming at a gallop along the road a +mile in the rear, and took the V once again in reverse. + +"If only we had more stuff," Drexel groaned to his sister, as he threw +down a meager, hard-gathered armful of the dry and brittle shrub, and as +Wemple once more, with rush and roar, shot down the V. + +For an instant it seemed that the great car would turn over into the +sump, but the next instant it was past. It struck the bottom of the +hollow a mighty wallop, and bounced and upended to the steep pitch of +the climb. Miss Drexel, seized by inspiration or desperation, with a +quick movement stripped off her short, corduroy tramping-skirt, and, +looking very lithe and boyish in slender-cut pongee bloomers, ran along +the sand and dropped the skirt for a foothold for the slowly revolving +wheels. Almost, but not quite, did the car stop, then, gathering way, +with the others running alongside and shoving, it emerged on the hard +road. + +While they tossed the robes and coats and Miss Drexel's skirt into the +bottom of the car and got Mrs. Morgan on board, Davies overtook them. + +"Down on the bottom!--all of you!" he shouted, as he gained the running +board and the machine sprang away. A scattering of shots came from the +rear. + +"Whose business is to live!--hunch down!" Davies yelled in Wemple's ear, +accompanying the instruction with an open-handed blow on the shoulder. + +"Live yourself," Wemple grumbled as he obediently hunched. "Get your +head down. You're exposing yourself." + +The pursuit lasted but a little while, and died away in an occasional +distant shot. + +"They've quit," Davies announced. "It never entered their stupid heads +that they could have caught us on Aliso Hill." + + * * * * * + +"It can't be done," was Charley Drexel's quick judgment of youth, as the +machine stopped and they surveyed the acute-angled turn on the stiff +up-grade of Aliso. Beneath was the swift-running river. + +"Get out everybody!" Wemple commanded. "Up-side, all of you, if you +don't want the car to turn over on you. Spread traction wherever she +needs it." + +"Shoot her ahead, or back--she can't stop," Davies said quietly, from +the outer edge of the road, where he had taken position. "The earth's +crumbling away from under the tires every second she stands still." + +"Get out from under, or she'll be on top of you," Wemple ordered, as he +went ahead several yards. + +But again, after the car rested a minute, the light, dry earth began to +crack and crumble away from under the tires, rolling in a miniature +avalanche down the steep declivity into the water. And not until Wemple +had backed fifty yards down the narrow road did he find solid resting +for the car. He came ahead on foot and examined the acute angle formed +by the two zig-zags. Together with Davies he planned what was to be +done. + +"When you come you've got to come a-humping," Davies advised. "If you +stop anywhere for more than seconds, it's good night, and the walking +won't be fine." + +"She's full of fight, and she can do it. See that hard formation right +there on the inside wall. It couldn't have come at a better spot. If I +don't make her hind wheels climb half way up it, we'll start walking +about a second thereafter." + +"She's a two-fisted piece of machinery," Davies encouraged. "I know her +kind. If she can't do it, no machine can that was ever made. Am I right, +Beth?" + +"She's a regular, spunky she-devil," Miss Drexel laughed agreement. "And +so are the pair of you--er--of the male persuasion, I mean." + +Miss Drexel had never seemed so fascinating to either of them as she was +then, in the excitement quite unconscious of her abbreviated costume, +her brown hair flying, her eyes sparkling, her lips smiling. Each man +caught the other in that moment's pause to look, and each man sighed to +the other and looked frankly into each other's eyes ere he turned to the +work at hand. + +Wemple came up with his usual rush, but it was a gauged rush; and Davies +took the post of danger, the outside running board, where his weight +would help the broad tires to bite a little deeper into the treacherous +surface. If the road-edge crumbled away it was inevitable that he would +be caught under the car as it rolled over and down to the river. + +It was ahead and reverse, ahead and reverse, with only the briefest of +pauses in which to shift the gears. Wemple backed up the hard formation +on the inside bank till the car seemed standing on end, rushed ahead +till the earth of the outer edge broke under the front tires and +splashed in the water. Davies, now off, and again on the running board +when needed, accompanied the car in its jerky and erratic progress, +tossing robes and coats under the tires, calling instructions to Drexel +similarly occupied on the other side, and warning Miss Drexel out of the +way. + +"Oh, you Merry Olds, you Merry Olds, you Merry Olds," Wemple muttered +aloud, as if in prayer, as he wrestled the car about the narrow area, +gaining sometimes inches in pivoting it, sometimes fetching back up the +inner wall precisely at the spot previously attained, and, once, having +the car, with the surface of the roadbed under it, slide bodily and +sidewise, two feet down the road. + +The clapping of Miss Drexel's hands was the first warning Davies +received that the feat was accomplished, and, swinging on to the running +board, he found the car backing in the straight-away up the next zig-zag +and Wemple still chanting ecstatically, "Oh, you Merry Olds, you Merry +Olds!" + +There were no more grades nor zigzags between them and Tampico, but, so +narrow was the primitive road, two miles farther were backed before +space was found in which to turn around. One thing of importance +did lie between them and Tampico--namely the investing lines of the +constitutionalists. But here, at noon, fortune favored in the form of +three American soldiers of fortune, operators of machine guns, who had +fought the entire campaign with Villa from the beginning of the advance +from the Texan border. Under a white flag, Wemple drove the car across +the zone of debate into the federal lines, where good fortune, in the +guise of an ubiquitous German naval officer, again received them. + +"I think you are nearly the only Americans left in Tampico," he told +them. "About all the rest are lying out in the Gulf on the different +warships. But at the Southern Hotel there are several, and the situation +seems quieter." + +As they got out at the Southern, Davies laid his hand on the car and +murmured, "Good old girl!" Wemple followed suit. And Miss Drexel, +engaging both men's eyes and about to say something, was guilty of a +sudden moisture in her own eyes that made her turn to the car with a +caressing hand and repeat, "Good old girl!" + + + +***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK DUTCH COURAGE AND OTHER STORIES*** + + +******* This file should be named 14449-8.txt or 14449-8.zip ******* + + +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: +https://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/1/4/4/4/14449 + + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at <a href = "https://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a></pre> +<p>Title: Dutch Courage and Other Stories</p> +<p>Author: Jack London</p> +<p>Release Date: December 24, 2004 [eBook #14449]</p> +<p>Language: English</p> +<p>Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1</p> +<p>***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK DUTCH COURAGE AND OTHER STORIES***</p> +<p> </p> +<h3>E-text prepared by David Garcia<br /> + and the Project Gutenberg Online Distributed Proofreading Team</h3> +<p> </p> +<hr class="full" /> +<div style="height: 2em;"><br /></div> + +<a name="image-0001"><!--IMG--></a> +<div style="text-align: center; margin: auto; width: 70%;"> +<a href="images/frontis.jpg" target="_blank"><img src="images/frontis.jpg" width="80%" +alt="Jack London, Sailor" /></a><br /> +<b>Jack London, Sailor</b> +</div> + +<div style="height: 4em;"><br /><br /><br /><br /></div> + +<h1> + DUTCH COURAGE<br /> AND OTHER STORIES +</h1> +<h3> +BY JACK LONDON +</h3> +<p> </p> + +<center><small> +<i>NEW YORK</i><br /> +1924 +</small></center> + + +<a name="h2H_PREF" id="h2H_PREF"><!-- H2 anchor --></a> + +<div style="height: 4em;"><br /><br /><br /><br /></div> + +<h2> + PREFACE +</h2> +<p> +"I've never written a line that I'd be ashamed for my young daughters to +read, and I never shall write such a line!" +</p> +<p> +Thus Jack London, well along in his career. And thus almost any +collection of his adventure stories is acceptable to young readers as +well as to their elders. So, in sorting over the few manuscripts still +unpublished in book form, while most of them were written primarily for +boys and girls, I do not hesitate to include as appropriate a tale such +as "Whose Business Is to Live." +</p> +<p> +Number two of the present group, "Typhoon Off the Coast of Japan," is +the first story ever written by Jack London for publication. At the age +of seventeen he had returned from his deep-water voyage in the sealing +schooner <i>Sophie Sutherland</i>, and was working thirteen hours a day +for forty dollars a month in an Oakland, California, jute mill. The +<i>San Francisco Call</i> offered a prize of twenty-five dollars for the +best written descriptive article. Jack's mother, Flora London, +remembering that I had excelled in his school "compositions," urged him +to enter the contest by recalling some happening of his travels. Grammar +school, years earlier, had been his sole disciplined education. But his +wide reading, worldly experience, and extraordinary powers of +observation and correlation, enabled him to command first prize. It is +notable that the second and third awards went to students at California +and Stanford universities. +</p> +<p> +Jack never took the trouble to hunt up that old <i>San Francisco +Call</i> of November 12, 1893; but when I came to write his biography, +"The Book of Jack London," I unearthed the issue, and the tale appears +intact in my English edition, published in 1921. And now, gathering +material for what will be the final Jack London collections, I cannot +but think that his first printed story will have unusual interest for +his readers of all ages. +</p> +<p> +The boy Jack's unexpected success in that virgin venture naturally +spurred him to further effort. It was, for one thing, the pleasantest +way he had ever earned so much money, even if it lacked the element of +physical prowess and danger that had marked those purple days with the +oyster pirates, and, later, equally exciting passages with the Fish +Patrol. He only waited to catch up on sleep lost while hammering out +"Typhoon Off the Coast of Japan," before applying himself to new +fiction. That was what was the matter with it: it was sheer fiction in +place of the white-hot realism of the "true story" that had brought him +distinction. This second venture he afterward termed "gush." It was +promptly rejected by the editor of the <i>Call</i>. Lacking experience +in such matters, Jack could not know why. And it did not occur to him to +submit his manuscript elsewhere. His fire was dampened; he gave over +writing and continued with the jute mill and innocent social diversion +in company with Louis Shattuck and his friends, who had superseded +Jack's wilder comrades and hazards of bay- and sea-faring. This period, +following the publication of "Typhoon Off the Coast of Japan," is +touched upon in his book "John Barleycorn." +</p> +<p> +The next that one hears of attempts at writing is when, during his +tramping episode, he showed some stories to his aunt, Mrs. Everhard, in +St. Joseph, Michigan. And in the ensuing months of that year, 1894, she +received other romances mailed at his stopping places along the eastward +route, alone or with Kelly's Industrial Army. As yet it had not sunk +into his consciousness that his unyouthful knowledge of life in the raw +would be the means of success in literature; therefore he discoursed of +imaginary things and persons, lords and ladies, days of chivalry and +what not—anything but out of his priceless first-hand lore. At the same +time, however, he kept a small diary which, in the days when he had +found himself, helped in visualizing his tramp life, in "The Road." +</p> +<p> +The only out and out "juvenile" in the Jack London list prior to his +death is "The Cruise of the Dazzler," published in 1902. At that it is a +good and authentic maritime study of its kind, and not lacking in honest +thrills. "Tales of the Fish Patrol" comes next as a book for boys; but +the happenings told therein are perilous enough to interest many an +older reader. +</p> +<p> +I am often asked which of his books have made the strongest appeal to +youth. The impulse is to answer that it depends upon the particular type +of youth. As example, there lies before me a letter from a friend: "Ruth +(she is eleven) has been reading every book of your husband's that she +can get hold of. She is crazy over the stories. I have bought nearly all +of them, but cannot find 'The Son of the Wolf,' 'Moon Face,' and +'Michael Brother of Jerry.' Will you tell me where I can order these?" I +have not yet learned Ruth's favorites; but I smile to myself at thought +of the re-reading she may have to do when her mind has more fully +developed. +</p> +<p> +The youth of every country who read Jack London naturally turn to his +adventure stories—particularly "The Call of the Wild" and its companion +"White Fang," "The Sea Wolf," "The Cruise of the Snark," and my own +journal, "The Log of the Snark," and "Our Hawaii," "Smoke Bellew Tales," +"Adventure," "The Mutiny of the Elsinore," as well as "Before Adam," +"The Game," "The Abysmal Brute," "The Road," "Jerry of the Islands" and +its sequel "Michael Brother of Jerry." And because of the last named, +the youth of many lands are enrolling in the famous Jack London Club. +This was inspired by Dr. Francis H. Bowley, President of the +Massachusetts S.P.C.A. The Club expects no dues. Membership is automatic +through the mere promise to leave any playhouse during an animal +performance. The protest thereby registered is bound, in good time, to +do away with the abuses that attend animal training for show purposes. +"Michael Brother of Jerry" was written out of Jack London's heart of +love and head of understanding of animals, aided by a years'-long study +of the conditions of which he treats. Incidentally this book contains +one of the most charming bits of seafaring romance of the Southern Ocean +that he ever wrote. +</p> +<p> +During the Great War, the English speaking soldiers called freely for +the foregoing novels, dubbing them "The Jacklondons"; and there was also +lively demand for "Burning Daylight," "The Scarlet Plague," "The Star +Rover," "The Little Lady of the Big House," "The Valley of the Moon," +and, because of its prophetic spirit, "The Iron Heel." There was +likewise a desire for the short-story collections, such as "The God of +His Fathers," "Children of the Frost," "The Faith of Men," "Love of +Life," "Lost Face," "When God Laughs," and later groups like "South Sea +Tales," "A Son of the Sun," "The Night Born," and "The House of Pride," +and a long list beside. +</p> +<p> +But for the serious minded youth of America, Great Britain, and all +countries where Jack London's work has been translated—youth +considering life with a purpose—"Martin Eden" is the beacon. Passing +years only augment the number of messages that find their way to me from +near and far, attesting the worth to thoughtful boys and girls, young +men and women, of the author's own formative struggle in life and +letters as partially outlined in "Martin Eden." +</p> +<p> +The present sheaf of young folk's stories were written during the latter +part of that battle for recognition, and my gathering of them inside +book covers is pursuant of his own intention at the time of his death on +November 22, 1916. +</p> + +<p style="text-align: right;"> CHARMIAN LONDON. </p> + +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i2"> Jack London Ranch, </p> +<p class="i4"> Glen Ellen, Sonoma County, California. </p> +<p class="i6"> August 1, 1922. </p> +</div> +</div> + + +<hr class="full" /> + +<div style="height: 4em;"><br /><br /><br /><br /></div> + +<h2> + TABLE OF CONTENTS +</h2> +<p><a href="#h2H_PREF"> +PREFACE +</a></p> +<p><a href="#h2H_4_0003"> +DUTCH COURAGE +</a></p> +<p><a href="#h2H_4_0004"> +TYPHOON OFF THE COAST OF JAPAN +</a></p> +<p><a href="#h2H_4_0005"> +THE LOST POACHER +</a></p> +<p><a href="#h2H_4_0006"> +THE BANKS OF THE SACRAMENTO +</a></p> +<p><a href="#h2H_4_0007"> +CHRIS FARRINGTON: ABLE SEAMAN +</a></p> +<p><a href="#h2H_4_0008"> +TO REPEL BOARDERS +</a></p> +<p><a href="#h2H_4_0009"> +AN ADVENTURE IN THE UPPER SEA +</a></p> +<p><a href="#h2H_4_0010"> +BALD-FACE +</a></p> +<p><a href="#h2H_4_0011"> +IN YEDDO BAY +</a></p> +<p><a href="#h2H_4_0012"> +WHOSE BUSINESS IS TO LIVE +</a></p> + +<div style="height: 4em;"><br /><br /><br /><br /></div> + +<hr class="full" /> + +<a name="h2H_4_0003" id="h2H_4_0003"><!-- H2 anchor --></a> + +<div style="height: 4em;"><br /><br /><br /><br /></div> + +<h2> + DUTCH COURAGE +</h2> +<p> +"Just our luck!" +</p> +<p> +Gus Lafee finished wiping his hands and sullenly threw the towel upon +the rocks. His attitude was one of deep dejection. The light seemed gone +out of the day and the glory from the golden sun. Even the keen mountain +air was devoid of relish, and the early morning no longer yielded its +customary zest. +</p> +<p> +"Just our luck!" Gus repeated, this time avowedly for the edification of +another young fellow who was busily engaged in sousing his head in the +water of the lake. +</p> +<p> +"What are you grumbling about, anyway?" Hazard Van Dorn lifted a +soap-rimmed face questioningly. His eyes were shut. "What's our luck?" +</p> +<p> +"Look there!" Gus threw a moody glance skyward. "Some duffer's got ahead +of us. We've been scooped, that's all!" +</p> +<p> +Hazard opened his eyes, and caught a fleeting glimpse of a white flag +waving arrogantly on the edge of a wall of rock nearly a mile above his +head. Then his eyes closed with a snap, and his face wrinkled +spasmodically. Gus threw him the towel, and uncommiseratingly watched +him wipe out the offending soap. He felt too blue himself to take stock +in trivialities. +</p> +<p> +Hazard groaned. +</p> +<p> +"Does it hurt—much?" Gus queried, coldly, without interest, as if it +were no more than his duty to ask after the welfare of his comrade. +</p> +<p> +"I guess it does," responded the suffering one. +</p> +<p> +"Soap's pretty strong, eh?—Noticed it myself." +</p> +<p> +"'Tisn't the soap. It's—it's <i>that!</i>" He opened his reddened eyes +and pointed toward the innocent white little flag. "That's what hurts." +</p> +<p> +Gus Lafee did not reply, but turned away to start the fire and begin +cooking breakfast. His disappointment and grief were too deep for +anything but silence, and Hazard, who felt likewise, never opened his +mouth as he fed the horses, nor once laid his head against their arching +necks or passed caressing fingers through their manes. The two boys were +blind, also, to the manifold glories of Mirror Lake which reposed at +their very feet. Nine times, had they chosen to move along its margin +the short distance of a hundred yards, could they have seen the sunrise +repeated; nine times, from behind as many successive peaks, could they +have seen the great orb rear his blazing rim; and nine times, had they +but looked into the waters of the lake, could they have seen the +phenomena reflected faithfully and vividly. But all the Titanic grandeur +of the scene was lost to them. They had been robbed of the chief +pleasure of their trip to Yosemite Valley. They had been frustrated in +their long-cherished design upon Half Dome, and hence were rendered +disconsolate and blind to the beauties and the wonders of the place. +</p> +<p> +Half Dome rears its ice-scarred head fully five thousand feet above the +level floor of Yosemite Valley. In the name itself of this great rock +lies an accurate and complete description. Nothing more nor less is it +than a cyclopean, rounded dome, split in half as cleanly as an apple +that is divided by a knife. It is, perhaps, quite needless to state that +but one-half remains, hence its name, the other half having been carried +away by the great ice-river in the stormy time of the Glacial Period. In +that dim day one of those frigid rivers gouged a mighty channel from out +the solid rock. This channel to-day is Yosemite Valley. But to return to +the Half Dome. On its northeastern side, by circuitous trails and stiff +climbing, one may gain the Saddle. Against the slope of the Dome the +Saddle leans like a gigantic slab, and from the top of this slab, one +thousand feet in length, curves the great circle to the summit of the +Dome. A few degrees too steep for unaided climbing, these one thousand +feet defied for years the adventurous spirits who fixed yearning eyes +upon the crest above. +</p> +<p> +One day, a couple of clear-headed mountaineers had proceeded to insert +iron eye-bolts into holes which they drilled into the rock every few +feet apart. But when they found themselves three hundred feet above the +Saddle, clinging like flies to the precarious wall with on either hand a +yawning abyss, their nerves failed them and they abandoned the +enterprise. So it remained for an indomitable Scotchman, one George +Anderson, finally to achieve the feat. Beginning where they had left +off, drilling and climbing for a week, he had at last set foot upon that +awful summit and gazed down into the depths where Mirror Lake reposed, +nearly a mile beneath. +</p> +<p> +In the years which followed, many bold men took advantage of the huge +rope ladder which he had put in place; but one winter ladder, cables and +all were carried away by the snow and ice. True, most of the eye-bolts, +twisted and bent, remained. But few men had since essayed the hazardous +undertaking, and of those few more than one gave up his life on the +treacherous heights, and not one succeeded. +</p> +<p> +But Gus Lafee and Hazard Van Dorn had left the smiling valley-land of +California and journeyed into the high Sierras, intent on the great +adventure. And thus it was that their disappointment was deep and +grievous when they awoke on this morning to receive the forestalling +message of the little white flag. +</p> +<p> +"Camped at the foot of the Saddle last night and went up at the first +peep of day," Hazard ventured, long after the silent breakfast had been +tucked away and the dishes washed. +</p> +<p> +Gus nodded. It was not in the nature of things that a youth's spirits +should long remain at low ebb, and his tongue was beginning to loosen. +</p> +<p> +"Guess he's down by now, lying in camp and feeling as big as Alexander," +the other went on. "And I don't blame him, either; only I wish it were +we." +</p> +<p> +"You can be sure he's down," Gus spoke up at last. "It's mighty warm on +that naked rock with the sun beating down on it at this time of year. +That was our plan, you know, to go up early and come down early. And any +man, sensible enough to get to the top, is bound to have sense enough to +do it before the rock gets hot and his hands sweaty." +</p> +<p> +"And you can be sure he didn't take his shoes with, him." Hazard rolled +over on his back and lazily regarded the speck of flag fluttering +briskly on the sheer edge of the precipice. "Say!" He sat up with a +start. "What's that?" +</p> +<p> +A metallic ray of light flashed out from the summit of Half Dome, then a +second and a third. The heads of both boys were craned backward on the +instant, agog with excitement. +</p> +<p> +"What a duffer!" Gus cried. "Why didn't he come down when it was cool?" +</p> +<p> +Hazard shook his head slowly, as if the question were too deep for +immediate answer and they had better defer judgment. +</p> +<p> +The flashes continued, and as the boys soon noted, at irregular +intervals of duration and disappearance. Now they were long, now short; +and again they came and went with great rapidity, or ceased altogether +for several moments at a time. +</p> +<p> +"I have it!" Hazard's face lighted up with the coming of understanding. +"I have it! That fellow up there is trying to talk to us. He's flashing +the sunlight down to us on a pocket-mirror—dot, dash; dot, dash; don't +you see?" +</p> +<p> +The light also began to break in Gus's face. "Ah, I know! It's what they +do in war-time—signaling. They call it heliographing, don't they? Same +thing as telegraphing, only it's done without wires. And they use the +same dots and dashes, too." +</p> +<p> +"Yes, the Morse alphabet. Wish I knew it." +</p> +<p> +"Same here. He surely must have something to say to us, or he wouldn't +be kicking up all that rumpus." +</p> +<p> +Still the flashes came and went persistently, till Gus exclaimed: "That +chap's in trouble, that's what's the matter with him! Most likely he's +hurt himself or something or other." +</p> +<p> +"Go on!" Hazard scouted. +</p> +<p> +Gus got out the shotgun and fired both barrels three times in rapid +succession. A perfect flutter of flashes came back before the echoes had +ceased their antics. So unmistakable was the message that even doubting +Hazard was convinced that the man who had forestalled them stood in some +grave danger. +</p> +<p> +"Quick, Gus," he cried, "and pack! I'll see to the horses. Our trip +hasn't come to nothing, after all. We've got to go right up Half Dome +and rescue him. Where's the map? How do we get to the Saddle?" +</p> +<p> +"'Taking the horse-trail below the Vernal Falls,'" Gus read from the +guide-book, "'one mile of brisk traveling brings the tourist to the +world-famed Nevada Fall. Close by, rising up in all its pomp and glory, +the Cap of Liberty stands guard——" +</p> +<p> +"Skip all that!" Hazard impatiently interrupted. "The trail's what we +want." +</p> +<p> +"Oh, here it is! 'Following the trail up the side of the fall will bring +you to the forks. The left one leads to Little Yosemite Valley, Cloud's +Rest, and other points.'" +</p> +<p> +"Hold on; that'll do! I've got it on the map now," again interrupted +Hazard. "From the Cloud's Rest trail a dotted line leads off to Half +Dome. That shows the trail's abandoned. We'll have to look sharp to find +it. It's a day's journey." +</p> +<p> +"And to think of all that traveling, when right here we're at the bottom +of the Dome!" Gus complained, staring up wistfully at the goal. +</p> +<p> +"That's because this is Yosemite, and all the more reason for us to +hurry. Come on! Be lively, now!" +</p> +<p> +Well used as they were to trail life, but few minutes sufficed to see +the camp equipage on the backs of the packhorses and the boys in the +saddle. In the late twilight of that evening they hobbled their animals +in a tiny mountain meadow, and cooked coffee and bacon for themselves at +the very base of the Saddle. Here, also, before they turned into their +blankets, they found the camp of the unlucky stranger who was destined +to spend the night on the naked roof of the Dome. +</p> +<p> +Dawn was brightening into day when the panting lads threw themselves +down at the summit of the Saddle and began taking off their shoes. +Looking down from the great height, they seemed perched upon the +ridgepole of the world, and even the snow-crowned Sierra peaks seemed +beneath them. Directly below, on the one hand, lay Little Yosemite +Valley, half a mile deep; on the other hand, Big Yosemite, a mile. +Already the sun's rays were striking about the adventurers, but the +darkness of night still shrouded the two great gulfs into which they +peered. And above them, bathed in the full day, rose only the majestic +curve of the Dome. +</p> +<p> +"What's that for?" Gus asked, pointing to a leather-shielded flask which +Hazard was securely fastening in his shirt pocket. +</p> +<p> +"Dutch courage, of course," was the reply. "We'll need all our nerve in +this undertaking, and a little bit more, and," he tapped the flask +significantly, "here's the little bit more." +</p> +<p> +"Good idea," Gus commented. +</p> +<p> +How they had ever come possessed of this erroneous idea, it would be +hard to discover; but they were young yet, and there remained for them +many uncut pages of life. Believers, also, in the efficacy of whisky as +a remedy for snake-bite, they had brought with them a fair supply of +medicine-chest liquor. As yet they had not touched it. +</p> +<p> +"Have some before we start?" Hazard asked. +</p> +<p> +Gus looked into the gulf and shook his head. "Better wait till we get up +higher and the climbing is more ticklish." +</p> +<p> +Some seventy feet above them projected the first eye-bolt. The winter +accumulations of ice had twisted and bent it down till it did not stand +more than a bare inch and a half above the rock—a most difficult object +to lasso as such a distance. Time and again Hazard coiled his lariat in +true cowboy fashion and made the cast, and time and again was he baffled +by the elusive peg. Nor could Gus do better. Taking advantage of +inequalities in the surface, they scrambled twenty feet up the Dome and +found they could rest in a shallow crevice. The cleft side of the Dome +was so near that they could look over its edge from the crevice and gaze +down the smooth, vertical wall for nearly two thousand feet. It was yet +too dark down below for them to see farther. +</p> +<p> +The peg was now fifty feet away, but the path they must cover to +get to it was quite smooth, and ran at an inclination of nearly fifty +degrees. It seemed impossible, in that intervening space, to find a +resting-place. Either the climber must keep going up, or he must slide +down; he could not stop. But just here rose the danger. The Dome was +sphere-shaped, and if he should begin to slide, his course would be, not +to the point from which he had started and where the Saddle would catch +him, but off to the south toward Little Yosemite. This meant a plunge of +half a mile. +</p> +<p> +"I'll try it," Gus said simply. +</p> +<p> +They knotted the two lariats together, so that they had over a hundred +feet of rope between them; and then each boy tied an end to his waist. +</p> +<p> +"If I slide," Gus cautioned, "come in on the slack and brace yourself. +If you don't, you'll follow me, that's all!" +</p> +<p> +"Ay, ay!" was the confident response. "Better take a nip before you +start?" +</p> +<p> +Gus glanced at the proffered bottle. He knew himself and of what he was +capable. "Wait till I make the peg and you join me. All ready?" +</p> +<p> +"Ay." +</p> +<p> +He struck out like a cat, on all fours, clawing energetically as he +urged his upward progress, his comrade paying out the rope carefully. At +first his speed was good, but gradually it dwindled. Now he was fifteen +feet from the peg, now ten, now eight—but going, oh, so slowly! Hazard, +looking up from his crevice, felt a contempt for him and disappointment +in him. It did look easy. Now Gus was five feet away, and after a +painful effort, four feet. But when only a yard intervened, he came to a +standstill—not exactly a standstill, for, like a squirrel in a wheel, +he maintained his position on the face of the Dome by the most desperate +clawing. +</p> +<p> +He had failed, that was evident. The question now was, how to save +himself. With a sudden, catlike movement he whirled over on his back, +caught his heel in a tiny, saucer-shaped depression and sat up. Then his +courage failed him. Day had at last penetrated to the floor of the +valley, and he was appalled at the frightful distance. +</p> +<p> +"Go ahead and make it!" Hazard ordered; but Gus merely shook his head. +</p> +<p> +"Then come down!" +</p> +<p> +Again he shook his head. This was his ordeal, to sit, nerveless and +insecure, on the brink of the precipice. But Hazard, lying safely in his +crevice, now had to face his own ordeal, but one of a different nature. +When Gus began to slide—as he soon must—would he, Hazard, be able to +take in the slack and then meet the shock as the other tautened the rope +and darted toward the plunge? It seemed doubtful. And there he lay, +apparently safe, but in reality harnessed to death. Then rose the +temptation. Why not cast off the rope about his waist? He would be safe +at all events. It was a simple way out of the difficulty. There was no +need that two should perish. But it was impossible for such temptation +to overcome his pride of race, and his own pride in himself and in his +honor. So the rope remained about him. +</p> +<p> +"Come down!" he ordered; but Gus seemed to have become petrified. +</p> +<p> +"Come down," he threatened, "or I'll drag you down!" He pulled on the +rope to show he was in earnest. +</p> +<p> +"Don't you dare!" Gus articulated through his clenched teeth. +</p> +<p> +"Sure, I will, if you don't come!" Again he jerked the rope. +</p> +<p> +With a despairing gurgle Gus started, doing his best to work sideways +from the plunge. Hazard, every sense on the alert, almost exulting in +his perfect coolness, took in the slack with deft rapidity. Then, as the +rope began to tighten, he braced himself. The shock drew him half out of +the crevice; but he held firm and served as the center of the circle, +while Gus, with the rope as a radius, described the circumference and +ended up on the extreme southern edge of the Saddle. A few moments later +Hazard was offering him the flask. +</p> +<p> +"Take some yourself," Gus said. +</p> +<p> +"No; you. I don't need it." +</p> +<p> +"And I'm past needing it." Evidently Gus was dubious of the bottle and +its contents. +</p> +<p> +Hazard put it away in his pocket. "Are you game," he asked, "or are you +going to give it up?" +</p> +<p> +"Never!" Gus protested. "I <i>am</i> game. No Lafee ever showed the +white feather yet. And if I did lose my grit up there, it was only for +the moment—sort of like seasickness. I'm all right now, and I'm going +to the top." +</p> +<p> +"Good!" encouraged Hazard. "You lie in the crevice this time, and I'll +show you how easy it is." +</p> +<p> +But Gus refused. He held that it was easier and safer for him to try +again, arguing that it was less difficult for his one hundred and +sixteen pounds to cling to the smooth rock than for Hazard's one hundred +and sixty-five; also that it was easier for one hundred and sixty-five +pounds to bring a sliding one hundred and sixteen to a stop than <i>vice +versa</i>. And further, that he had the benefit of his previous +experience. Hazard saw the justice of this, although it was with great +reluctance that he gave in. +</p> +<p> +Success vindicated Gus's contention. The second time, just as it seemed +as if his slide would be repeated, he made a last supreme effort and +gripped the coveted peg. By means of the rope, Hazard quickly joined +him. The next peg was nearly sixty feet away; but for nearly half that +distance the base of some glacier in the forgotten past had ground a +shallow furrow. Taking advantage of this, it was easy for Gus to lasso +the eye-bolt. And it seemed, as was really the case, that the hardest +part of the task was over. True, the curve steepened to nearly sixty +degrees above them, but a comparatively unbroken line of eye-bolts, six +feet apart, awaited the lads. They no longer had even to use the lasso. +Standing on one peg it was child's play to throw the bight of the rope +over the next and to draw themselves up to it. +</p> +<p> +A bronzed and bearded man met them at the top and gripped their hands in +hearty fellowship. +</p> +<p> +"Talk about your Mont Blancs!" he exclaimed, pausing in the midst of +greeting them to survey the mighty panorama. "But there's nothing on all +the earth, nor over it, nor under it, to compare with this!" Then he +recollected himself and thanked them for coming to his aid. No, he was +not hurt or injured in any way. Simply because of his own carelessness, +just as he had arrived at the top the previous day, he had dropped his +climbing rope. Of course it was impossible to descend without it. Did +they understand heliographing? No? That was strange! How did they—— +</p> +<p> +"Oh, we knew something was the matter," Gus interrupted, "from the way +you flashed when we fired off the shotgun." +</p> +<p> +"Find it pretty cold last night without blankets?" Hazard queried. +</p> +<p> +"I should say so. I've hardly thawed out yet." +</p> +<p> +"Have some of this." Hazard shoved the flask over to him. +</p> +<p> +The stranger regarded him quite seriously for a moment, then said, +"My dear fellow, do you see that row of pegs? Since it is my honest +intention to climb down them very shortly, I am forced to decline. +No, I don't think I'll have any, though I thank you just the same." +</p> +<p> +Hazard glanced at Gus and then put the flask back in his pocket. But +when they pulled the doubled rope through the last eye-bolt and set foot +on the Saddle, he again drew out the bottle. +</p> +<p> +"Now that we're down, we don't need it," he remarked, pithily. "And I've +about come to the conclusion that there isn't very much in Dutch +courage, after all." He gazed up the great curve of the Dome. "Look at +what we've done without it!" +</p> +<p> +Several seconds thereafter a party of tourists, gathered at the margin +of Mirror Lake, were astounded at the unwonted phenomenon of a whisky +flask descending upon them like a comet out of a clear sky; and all the +way back to the hotel they marveled greatly at the wonders of nature, +especially meteorites. +</p> +<a name="h2H_4_0004" id="h2H_4_0004"><!-- H2 anchor --></a> + +<div style="height: 4em;"><br /><br /><br /><br /></div> + +<h2> + TYPHOON OFF THE COAST OF JAPAN +</h2> +<center> + <i>Jack London's first story, published at the age of seventeen</i> +</center> +<p> +It was four bells in the morning watch. We had just finished breakfast +when the order came forward for the watch on deck to stand by to heave +her to and all hands stand by the boats. +</p> +<p> +"Port! hard a port!" cried our sailing-master. "Clew up the topsails! +Let the flying jib run down! Back the jib over to windward and run down +the foresail!" And so was our schooner <i>Sophie Sutherland</i> hove to +off the Japan coast, near Cape Jerimo, on April 10, 1893. +</p> +<p> +Then came moments of bustle and confusion. There were eighteen men to +man the six boats. Some were hooking on the falls, others casting off +the lashings; boat-steerers appeared with boat-compasses and +water-breakers, and boat-pullers with the lunch boxes. Hunters were +staggering under two or three shotguns, a rifle and heavy ammunition +box, all of which were soon stowed away with their oilskins and mittens +in the boats. +</p> +<p> +The sailing-master gave his last orders, and away we went, pulling three +pairs of oars to gain our positions. We were in the weather boat, and so +had a longer pull than the others. The first, second, and third lee +boats soon had all sail set and were running off to the southward and +westward with the wind beam, while the schooner was running off to +leeward of them, so that in case of accident the boats would have fair +wind home. +</p> +<p> +It was a glorious morning, but our boat-steerer shook his head ominously +as he glanced at the rising sun and prophetically muttered: "Red sun in +the morning, sailor take warning." The sun had an angry look, and a few +light, fleecy "nigger-heads" in that quarter seemed abashed and +frightened and soon disappeared. +</p> +<p> +Away off to the northward Cape Jerimo reared its black, forbidding head +like some huge monster rising from the deep. The winter's snow, not yet +entirely dissipated by the sun, covered it in patches of glistening +white, over which the light wind swept on its way out to sea. Huge gulls +rose slowly, fluttering their wings in the light breeze and striking +their webbed feet on the surface of the water for over half a mile +before they could leave it. Hardly had the patter, patter died away +when a flock of sea quail rose, and with whistling wings flew away +to windward, where members of a large band of whales were disporting +themselves, their blowings sounding like the exhaust of steam engines. +The harsh, discordant cries of a sea-parrot grated unpleasantly on the +ear, and set half a dozen alert in a small band of seals that were ahead +of us. Away they went, breaching and jumping entirely out of water. A +sea-gull with slow, deliberate flight and long, majestic curves circled +round us, and as a reminder of home a little English sparrow perched +impudently on the fo'castle head, and, cocking his head on one side, +chirped merrily. The boats were soon among the seals, and the bang! +bang! of the guns could be heard from down to leeward. +</p> +<p> +The wind was slowly rising, and by three o'clock as, with a dozen seals +in our boat, we were deliberating whether to go on or turn back, the +recall flag was run up at the schooner's mizzen—a sure sign that with +the rising wind the barometer was falling and that our sailing-master +was getting anxious for the welfare of the boats. +</p> +<p> +Away we went before the wind with a single reef in our sail. With +clenched teeth sat the boat-steerer, grasping the steering oar firmly +with both hands, his restless eyes on the alert—a glance at the +schooner ahead, as we rose on a sea, another at the mainsheet, and then +one astern where the dark ripple of the wind on the water told him of a +coming puff or a large white-cap that threatened to overwhelm us. The +waves were holding high carnival, performing the strangest antics, as +with wild glee they danced along in fierce pursuit—now up, now down, +here, there, and everywhere, until some great sea of liquid green with +its milk-white crest of foam rose from the ocean's throbbing bosom and +drove the others from view. But only for a moment, for again under new +forms they reappeared. In the sun's path they wandered, where every +ripple, great or small, every little spit or spray looked like molten +silver, where the water lost its dark green color and became a dazzling, +silvery flood, only to vanish and become a wild waste of sullen +turbulence, each dark foreboding sea rising and breaking, then rolling +on again. The dash, the sparkle, the silvery light soon vanished with +the sun, which became obscured by black clouds that were rolling swiftly +in from the west, northwest; apt heralds of the coming storm. +</p> +<p> +We soon reached the schooner and found ourselves the last aboard. +In a few minutes the seals were skinned, boats and decks washed, and +we were down below by the roaring fo'castle fire, with a wash, change +of clothes, and a hot, substantial supper before us. Sail had been put +on the schooner, as we had a run of seventy-five miles to make to the +southward before morning, so as to get in the midst of the seals, out +of which we had strayed during the last two days' hunting. +</p> +<p> +We had the first watch from eight to midnight. The wind was soon blowing +half a gale, and our sailing-master expected little sleep that night as +he paced up and down the poop. The topsails were soon clewed up and made +fast, then the flying jib run down and furled. Quite a sea was rolling +by this time, occasionally breaking over the decks, flooding them and +threatening to smash the boats. At six bells we were ordered to turn +them over and put on storm lashings. This occupied us till eight bells, +when we were relieved by the mid-watch. I was the last to go below, +doing so just as the watch on deck was furling the spanker. Below all +were asleep except our green hand, the "bricklayer," who was dying of +consumption. The wildly dancing movements of the sea lamp cast a pale, +flickering light through the fo'castle and turned to golden honey the +drops of water on the yellow oilskins. In all the corners dark shadows +seemed to come and go, while up in the eyes of her, beyond the pall +bits, descending from deck to deck, where they seemed to lurk like some +dragon at the cavern's mouth, it was dark as Erebus. Now and again, the +light seemed to penetrate for a moment as the schooner rolled heavier +than usual, only to recede, leaving it darker and blacker than before. +The roar of the wind through the rigging came to the ear muffled like +the distant rumble of a train crossing a trestle or the surf on the +beach, while the loud crash of the seas on her weather bow seemed almost +to rend the beams and planking asunder as it resounded through the +fo'castle. The creaking and groaning of the timbers, stanchions, and +bulkheads, as the strain the vessel was undergoing was felt, served to +drown the groans of the dying man as he tossed uneasily in his bunk. +The working of the foremast against the deck beams caused a shower of +flaky powder to fall, and sent another sound mingling with the tumultous +storm. Small cascades of water streamed from the pall bits from the +fo'castle head above, and, joining issue with the streams from the wet +oilskins, ran along the floor and disappeared aft into the main hold. +</p> +<p> +At two bells in the middle watch—that is, in land parlance one o'clock +in the morning—the order was roared out on the fo'castle: "All hands on +deck and shorten sail!" +</p> +<p> +Then the sleepy sailors tumbled out of their bunk and into their +clothes, oil-skins, and sea-boots and up on deck. 'Tis when that order +comes on cold, blustering nights that "Jack" grimly mutters: "Who would +not sell a farm and go to sea?" +</p> +<p> +It was on deck that the force of the wind could be fully appreciated, +especially after leaving the stifling fo'castle. It seemed to stand +up against you like a wall, making it almost impossible to move on +the heaving decks or to breathe as the fierce gusts came dashing by. +The schooner was hove to under jib, foresail, and mainsail. We proceeded +to lower the foresail and make it fast. The night was dark, greatly +impeding our labor. Still, though not a star or the moon could pierce +the black masses of storm clouds that obscured the sky as they swept +along before the gale, nature aided us in a measure. A soft light +emanated from the movement of the ocean. Each mighty sea, all +phosphorescent and glowing with the tiny lights of myriads of +animalculć, threatened to overwhelm us with a deluge of fire. Higher and +higher, thinner and thinner, the crest grew as it began to curve and +overtop preparatory to breaking, until with a roar it fell over the +bulwarks, a mass of soft glowing light and tons of water which sent the +sailors sprawling in all directions and left in each nook and cranny +little specks of light that glowed and trembled till the next sea washed +them away, depositing new ones in their places. Sometimes several seas +following each other with great rapidity and thundering down on our +decks filled them full to the bulwarks, but soon they were discharged +through the lee scuppers. +</p> +<p> +To reef the mainsail we were forced to run off before the gale under the +single reefed jib. By the time we had finished the wind had forced up +such a tremendous sea that it was impossible to heave her to. Away we +flew on the wings of the storm through the muck and flying spray. A wind +sheer to starboard, then another to port as the enormous seas struck the +schooner astern and nearly broached her to. As day broke we took in the +jib, leaving not a sail unfurled. Since we had begun scudding she had +ceased to take the seas over her bow, but amidships they broke fast +and furious. It was a dry storm in the matter of rain, but the force +of the wind filled the air with fine spray, which flew as high as the +crosstrees and cut the face like a knife, making it impossible to see +over a hundred yards ahead. The sea was a dark lead color as with long, +slow, majestic roll it was heaped up by the wind into liquid mountains +of foam. The wild antics of the schooner were sickening as she forged +along. She would almost stop, as though climbing a mountain, then +rapidly rolling to right and left as she gained the summit of a huge +sea, she steadied herself and paused for a moment as though affrighted +at the yawning precipice before her. Like an avalanche, she shot forward +and down as the sea astern struck her with the force of a thousand +battering rams, burying her bow to the catheads in the milky foam at the +bottom that came on deck in all directions—forward, astern, to right +and left, through the hawse-pipes and over the rail. +</p> +<p> +The wind began to drop, and by ten o'clock we were talking of heaving +her to. We passed a ship, two schooners, and a four-masted barkentine +under the smallest of canvas, and at eleven o'clock, running up the +spanker and jib, we hove her to, and in another hour we were beating +back again against the aftersea under full sail to regain the sealing +ground away to the westward. +</p> +<p> +Below, a couple of men were sewing the "bricklayer's" body in canvas +preparatory to the sea burial. And so with the storm passed away the +"bricklayer's" soul. +</p> +<a name="h2H_4_0005" id="h2H_4_0005"><!-- H2 anchor --></a> + +<div style="height: 4em;"><br /><br /><br /><br /></div> + +<h2> + THE LOST POACHER +</h2> +<p> +"But they won't take excuses. You're across the line, and that's enough. +They'll take you. In you go, Siberia and the salt-mines. And as for +Uncle Sam, why, what's he to know about it? Never a word will get back +to the States. 'The <i>Mary Thomas</i>,' the papers will say, 'the +<i>Mary Thomas</i> lost with all hands. Probably in a typhoon in the +Japanese seas.' That's what the papers will say, and people, too. In you +go, Siberia and the salt-mines. Dead to the world and kith and kin, +though you live fifty years." +</p> +<p> +In such manner John Lewis, commonly known as the "sea-lawyer," settled +the matter out of hand. +</p> +<p> +It was a serious moment in the forecastle of the <i>Mary Thomas</i>. No +sooner had the watch below begun to talk the trouble over, than the +watch on deck came down and joined them. As there was no wind, every +hand could be spared with the exception of the man at the wheel, and he +remained only for the sake of discipline. Even "Bub" Russell, the +cabin-boy, had crept forward to hear what was going on. +</p> +<p> +However, it was a serious moment, as the grave faces of the sailors bore +witness. For the three preceding months the <i>Mary Thomas</i> sealing +schooner, had hunted the seal pack along the coast of Japan and north to +Bering Sea. Here, on the Asiatic side of the sea, they were forced to +give over the chase, or rather, to go no farther; for beyond, the +Russian cruisers patrolled forbidden ground, where the seals might breed +in peace. +</p> +<p> +A week before she had fallen into a heavy fog accompanied by calm. Since +then the fog-bank had not lifted, and the only wind had been light airs +and catspaws. This in itself was not so bad, for the sealing schooners +are never in a hurry so long as they are in the midst of the seals; but +the trouble lay in the fact that the current at this point bore heavily +to the north. Thus the <i>Mary Thomas</i> had unwittingly drifted across +the line, and every hour she was penetrating, unwillingly, farther and +farther into the dangerous waters where the Russian bear kept guard. +</p> +<p> +How far she had drifted no man knew. The sun had not been visible +for a week, nor the stars, and the captain had been unable to take +observations in order to determine his position. At any moment a cruiser +might swoop down and hale the crew away to Siberia. The fate of other +poaching seal-hunters was too well known to the men of the <i>Mary +Thomas</i>, and there was cause for grave faces. +</p> +<p> +"Mine friends," spoke up a German boat-steerer, "it vas a pad piziness. +Shust as ve make a big catch, und all honest, somedings go wrong, und +der Russians nab us, dake our skins and our schooner, und send us mit +der anarchists to Siberia. Ach! a pretty pad piziness!" +</p> +<p> +"Yes, that's where it hurts," the sea lawyer went on. "Fifteen hundred +skins in the salt piles, and all honest, a big pay-day coming to every +man Jack of us, and then to be captured and lose it all! It'd be +different if we'd been poaching, but it's all honest work in open +water." +</p> +<p> +"But if we haven't done anything wrong, they can't do anything to us, +can they?" Bub queried. +</p> +<p> +"It strikes me as 'ow it ain't the proper thing for a boy o' your age +shovin' in when 'is elders is talkin'," protested an English sailor, +from over the edge of his bunk. +</p> +<p> +"Oh, that's all right, Jack," answered the sea-lawyer. "He's a perfect +right to. Ain't he just as liable to lose his wages as the rest of us?" +</p> +<p> +"Wouldn't give thruppence for them!" Jack sniffed back. He had been +planning to go home and see his family in Chelsea when he was paid off, +and he was now feeling rather blue over the highly possible loss, not +only of his pay, but of his liberty. +</p> +<p> +"How are they to know?" the sea-lawyer asked in answer to Bub's previous +question. "Here we are in forbidden water. How do they know but what we +came here of our own accord? Here we are, fifteen hundred skins in the +hold. How do they, know whether we got them in open water or in the +closed sea? Don't you see, Bub, the evidence is all against us. If you +caught a man with his pockets full of apples like those which grow on +your tree, and if you caught him in your tree besides, what'd you think +if he told you he couldn't help it, and had just been sort of blown +there, and that anyway those apples came from some other tree—what'd +you think, eh?" +</p> +<p> +Bub saw it clearly when put in that light, and shook his head +despondently. +</p> +<p> +"You'd rather be dead than go to Siberia," one of the boat-pullers said. +"They put you into the salt-mines and work you till you die. Never see +daylight again. Why, I've heard tell of one fellow that was chained to +his mate, and that mate died. And they were both chained together! And +if they send you to the quicksilver mines you get salivated. I'd rather +be hung than salivated." +</p> +<p> +"Wot's salivated?" Jack asked, suddenly sitting up in his bunk at the +hint of fresh misfortunes. +</p> +<p> +"Why, the quicksilver gets into your blood; I think that's the way. And +your gums all swell like you had the scurvy, only worse, and your teeth +get loose in your jaws. And big ulcers form, and then you die horrible. +The strongest man can't last long a-mining quicksilver." +</p> +<p> +"A pad piziness," the boat-steerer reiterated, dolorously, in the +silence which followed. "A pad piziness. I vish I was in Yokohama. Eh? +Vot vas dot?" +</p> +<p> +The vessel had suddenly heeled over. The decks were aslant. A tin +pannikin rolled down the inclined plane, rattling and banging. From +above came the slapping of canvas and the quivering rat-tat-tat of the +after leech of the loosely stretched foresail. Then the mate's voice +sang down the hatch, "All hands on deck and make sail!" +</p> +<p> +Never had such summons been answered with more enthusiasm. The calm had +broken. The wind had come which was to carry them south into safety. +With a wild cheer all sprang on deck. Working with mad haste, they flung +out topsails, flying jibs and stay-sails. As they worked, the fog-bank +lifted and the black vault of heaven, bespangled with the old familiar +stars, rushed into view. When all was ship-shape, the <i>Mary Thomas</i> +was lying gallantly over on her side to a beam wind and plunging ahead +due south. +</p> +<p> +"Steamer's lights ahead on the port bow, sir!" cried the lookout from +his station on the forecastle-head. There was excitement in the man's +voice. +</p> +<p> +The captain sent Bub below for his night-glasses. Everybody crowded to +the lee-rail to gaze at the suspicious stranger, which already began to +loom up vague and indistinct. In those unfrequented waters the chance +was one in a thousand that it could be anything else than a Russian +patrol. The captain was still anxiously gazing through the glasses, when +a flash of flame left the stranger's side, followed by the loud report +of a cannon. The worst fears were confirmed. It was a patrol, evidently +firing across the bows of the <i>Mary Thomas</i> in order to make her +heave to. +</p> +<p> +"Hard down with your helm!" the captain commanded the steers-man, all +the life gone out of his voice. Then to the crew, "Back over the jib and +foresail! Run down the flying jib! Clew up the foretopsail! And aft here +and swing on to the main-sheet!" +</p> +<p> +The <i>Mary Thomas</i> ran into the eye of the wind, lost headway, and +fell to courtesying gravely to the long seas rolling up from the west. +</p> +<p> +The cruiser steamed a little nearer and lowered a boat. The sealers +watched in heartbroken silence. They could see the white bulk of the +boat as it was slacked away to the water, and its crew sliding aboard. +They could hear the creaking of the davits and the commands of the +officers. Then the boat sprang away under the impulse of the oars, and +came toward them. The wind had been rising, and already the sea was too +rough to permit the frail craft to lie alongside the tossing schooner; +but watching their chance, and taking advantage of the boarding ropes +thrown to them, an officer and a couple of men clambered aboard. +The boat then sheered off into safety and lay to its oars, a young +midshipman, sitting in the stern and holding the yoke-lines, in charge. +</p> +<p> +The officer, whose uniform disclosed his rank as that of second +lieutenant in the Russian navy, went below with the captain of the +<i>Mary Thomas</i> to look at the ship's papers. A few minutes later he +emerged, and upon his sailors removing the hatch-covers, passed down +into the hold with a lantern to inspect the salt piles. It was a goodly +heap which confronted him—fifteen hundred fresh skins, the season's +catch; and under the circumstances he could have had but one conclusion. +</p> +<p> +"I am very sorry," he said, in broken English to the sealing captain, +when he again came on deck, "but it is my duty, in the name of the tsar, +to seize your vessel as a poacher caught with fresh skins in the closed +sea. The penalty, as you may know, is confiscation and imprisonment." +</p> +<p> +The captain of the <i>Mary Thomas</i> shrugged his shoulders in seeming +indifference, and turned away. Although they may restrain all outward +show, strong men, under unmerited misfortune, are sometimes very close +to tears. Just then the vision of his little California home, and of the +wife and two yellow-haired boys, was strong upon him, and there was a +strange, choking sensation in his throat, which made him afraid that if +he attempted to speak he would sob instead. +</p> +<p> +And also there was upon him the duty he owed his men. No weakness before +them, for he must be a tower of strength to sustain them in misfortune. +He had already explained to the second lieutenant, and knew the +hopelessness of the situation. As the sea-lawyer had said, the evidence +was all against him. So he turned aft, and fell to pacing up and down +the poop of the vessel over which he was no longer commander. +</p> +<p> +The Russian officer now took temporary charge. He ordered more of his +men aboard, and had all the canvas clewed up and furled snugly away. +While this was being done, the boat plied back and forth between the +two vessels, passing a heavy hawser, which was made fast to the great +towing-bitts on the schooner's forecastle-head. During all this work +the sealers stood about in sullen groups. It was madness to think of +resisting, with the guns of a man-of-war not a biscuit-toss away; but +they refused to lend a hand, preferring instead to maintain a gloomy +silence. +</p> +<p> +Having accomplished his task, the lieutenant ordered all but four of his +men back into the boat. Then the midshipman, a lad of sixteen, looking +strangely mature and dignified in his uniform and sword, came aboard to +take command of the captured sealer. Just as the lieutenant prepared to +depart, his eyes chanced to alight upon Bub. Without a word of warning, +he seized him by the arm and dropped him over the rail into the waiting +boat; and then, with a parting wave of his hand, he followed him. +</p> +<p> +It was only natural that Bub should be frightened at this unexpected +happening. All the terrible stories he had heard of the Russians served +to make him fear them, and now returned to his mind with double force. +To be captured by them was bad enough, but to be carried off by them, +away from his comrades, was a fate of which he had not dreamed. +</p> +<p> +"Be a good boy, Bub," the captain called to him, as the boat drew away +from the <i>Mary Thomas</i>'s side, "and tell the truth!" +</p> +<p> +"Aye, aye, sir!" he answered, bravely enough, by all outward appearance. +He felt a certain pride of race, and was ashamed to be a coward before +these strange enemies, these wild Russian bears. +</p> +<p> +"Und be politeful!" the German boat-steerer added, his rough voice +lifting across the water like a fog-horn. +</p> +<p> +Bub waved his hand in farewell, and his mates clustered along the +rail as they answered with a cheering shout. He found room in the +stern-sheets, where he fell to regarding the lieutenant. He didn't look +so wild or bearish, after all—very much like other men, Bub concluded, +and the sailors were much the same as all other man-of-war's men he had +ever known. Nevertheless, as his feet struck the steel deck of the +cruiser, he felt as if he had entered the portals of a prison. +</p> +<p> +For a few minutes he was left unheeded. The sailors hoisted the boat up, +and swung it in on the davits. Then great clouds of black smoke poured +out of the funnels, and they were under way—to Siberia, Bub could not +help but think. He saw the <i>Mary Thomas</i> swing abruptly into line +as she took the pressure from the hawser, and her side-lights, red and +green, rose and fell as she was towed through the sea. +</p> +<p> +Bub's eyes dimmed at the melancholy sight, but—but just then the +lieutenant came to take him down to the commander, and he straightened +up and set his lips firmly, as if this were a very commonplace affair +and he were used to being sent to Siberia every day in the week. The +cabin in which the commander sat was like a palace compared to the +humble fittings of the <i>Mary Thomas</i>, and the commander himself, in +gold lace and dignity, was a most august personage, quite unlike the +simple man who navigated his schooner on the trail of the seal pack. +</p> +<p> +Bub now quickly learned why he had been brought aboard, and in the +prolonged questioning which followed, told nothing but the plain truth. +The truth was harmless; only a lie could have injured his cause. He did +not know much, except that they had been sealing far to the south in +open water, and that when the calm and fog came down upon them, being +close to the line, they had drifted across. Again and again he insisted +that they had not lowered a boat or shot a seal in the week they had +been drifting about in the forbidden sea; but the commander chose to +consider all that he said to be a tissue of falsehoods, and adopted a +bullying tone in an effort to frighten the boy. He threatened and +cajoled by turns, but failed in the slightest to shake Bub's statements, +and at last ordered him out of his presence. +</p> +<p> +By some oversight, Bub was not put in anybody's charge, and wandered up +on deck unobserved. Sometimes the sailors, in passing, bent curious +glances upon him, but otherwise he was left strictly alone. Nor could he +have attracted much attention, for he was small, the night dark, and the +watch on deck intent on its own business. Stumbling over the strange +decks, he made his way aft where he could look upon the side-lights of +the <i>Mary Thomas</i>, following steadily in the rear. +</p> +<p> +For a long while he watched, and then lay down in the darkness close to +where the hawser passed over the stern to the captured schooner. Once +an officer came up and examined the straining rope to see if it were +chafing, but Bub cowered away in the shadow undiscovered. This, however, +gave him an idea which concerned the lives and liberties of twenty-two +men, and which was to avert crushing sorrow from more than one happy +home many thousand miles away. +</p> +<p> +In the first place, he reasoned, the crew were all guiltless of any +crime, and yet were being carried relentlessly away to imprisonment in +Siberia—a living death, he had heard, and he believed it implicitly. +In the second place, he was a prisoner, hard and fast, with no chance +of escape. In the third, it was possible for the twenty-two men on the +<i>Mary Thomas</i> to escape. The only thing which bound them was a +four-inch hawser. They dared not cut it at their end, for a watch was +sure to be maintained upon it by their Russian captors; but at this end, +ah! at his end—— +</p> +<p> +Bub did not stop to reason further. Wriggling close to the hawser, he +opened his jack-knife and went to work, The blade was not very sharp, +and he sawed away, rope-yarn by rope-yarn, the awful picture of the +solitary Siberian exile he must endure growing clearer and more terrible +at every stroke. Such a fate was bad enough to undergo with one's +comrades, but to face it alone seemed frightful. And besides, the very +act he was performing was sure to bring greater punishment upon him. +</p> +<p> +In the midst of such somber thoughts, he heard footsteps approaching. +He wriggled away into the shadow. An officer stopped where he had been +working, half-stooped to examine the hawser, then changed his mind and +straightened up. For a few minutes he stood there, gazing at the lights +of the captured schooner, and then went forward again. +</p> +<p> +Now was the time! Bub crept back and went on sawing. Now two parts were +severed. Now three. But one remained. The tension upon this was so great +that it readily yielded. Splash! The freed end went overboard. He lay +quietly, his heart in his mouth, listening. No one on the cruiser but +himself had heard. +</p> +<p> +He saw the red and green lights of the <i>Mary Thomas</i> grow dimmer +and dimmer. Then a faint hallo came over the water from the Russian +prize crew. Still nobody heard. The smoke continued to pour out of the +cruiser's funnels, and her propellers throbbed as mightily as ever. +</p> +<p> +What was happening on the <i>Mary Thomas</i>? Bub could only surmise; +but of one thing he was certain: his comrades would assert themselves +and overpower the four sailors and the midshipman. A few minutes later +he saw a small flash, and straining his ears heard the very faint report +of a pistol. Then, oh joy! both the red and green lights suddenly +disappeared. The <i>Mary Thomas</i> was retaken! +</p> +<p> +Just as an officer came aft, Bub crept forward, and hid away in +one of the boats. Not an instant too soon. The alarm was given. Loud +voices rose in command. The cruiser altered her course. An electric +search-light began to throw its white rays across the sea, here, there, +everywhere; but in its flashing path no tossing schooner was revealed. +</p> +<p> +Bub went to sleep soon after that, nor did he wake till the gray of +dawn. The engines were pulsing monotonously, and the water, splashing +noisily, told him the decks were being washed down. One sweeping glance, +and he saw that they were alone on the expanse of ocean. The <i>Mary +Thomas</i> had escaped. As he lifted his head, a roar of laughter went +up from the sailors. Even the officer, who ordered him taken below and +locked up, could not quite conceal the laughter in his eyes. Bub thought +often in the days of confinement which followed, that they were not very +angry with him for what he had done. +</p> +<p> +He was not far from right. There is a certain innate nobility deep down +in the hearts of all men, which forces them to admire a brave act, even +if it is performed by an enemy. The Russians were in nowise different +from other men. True, a boy had outwitted them; but they could not blame +him, and they were sore puzzled as to what to do with him. It would +never do to take a little mite like him in to represent all that +remained of the lost poacher. +</p> +<p> +So, two weeks later, a United States man-of-war, steaming out of the +Russian port of Vladivostok, was signaled by a Russian cruiser. A boat +passed between the two ships, and a small boy dropped over the rail upon +the deck of the American vessel. A week later he was put ashore at +Hakodate, and after some telegraphing, his fare was paid on the railroad +to Yokohama. +</p> +<p> +From the depot he hurried through the quaint Japanese streets to the +harbor, and hired a <i>sampan</i> boatman to put him aboard a certain +vessel whose familiar rigging had quickly caught his eye. Her gaskets +were off, her sails unfurled; she was just starting back to the United +States. As he came closer, a crowd of sailors sprang upon the forecastle +head, and the windlass-bars rose and fell as the anchor was torn from +its muddy bottom. +</p> +<p> +"'Yankee ship come down the ribber!'" the sea-lawyer's voice rolled out +as he led the anchor song. +</p> +<p> +"'Pull, my bully boys, pull!'" roared back the old familiar chorus, the +men's bodies lifting and bending to the rhythm. +</p> +<p> +Bub Russell paid the boatman and stepped on deck. The anchor was +forgotten. A mighty cheer went up from the men, and almost before he +could catch his breath he was on the shoulders of the captain, +surrounded by his mates, and endeavoring to answer twenty questions to +the second. +</p> +<p> +The next day a schooner hove to off a Japanese fishing village, sent +ashore four sailors and a little midshipman, and sailed away. These men +did not talk English, but they had money and quickly made their way to +Yokohama. From that day the Japanese village folk never heard anything +more about them, and they are still a much-talked-of mystery. As the +Russian government never said anything about the incident, the United +States is still ignorant of the whereabouts of the lost poacher, nor has +she ever heard, officially, of the way in which some of her citizens +"shanghaied" five subjects of the tsar. Even nations have secrets +sometimes. +</p> +<a name="h2H_4_0006" id="h2H_4_0006"><!-- H2 anchor --></a> + +<div style="height: 4em;"><br /><br /><br /><br /></div> + +<h2> + THE BANKS OF THE SACRAMENTO +</h2> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i2"> "And it's blow, ye winds, heigh-ho, + </p> +<p class="i2"> For Cal-i-for-ni-o; + </p> +<p class="i2"> For there's plenty of gold so I've been told, + </p> +<p class="i2"> On the banks of the Sacramento!" + </p> +</div> +</div> + +<p> +It was only a little boy, singing in a shrill treble the sea chantey +which seamen sing the wide world over when they man the capstan bars and +break the anchors out for "Frisco" port. It was only a little boy who +had never seen the sea, but two hundred feet beneath him rolled the +Sacramento. "Young" Jerry he was called, after "Old" Jerry, his father, +from whom he had learned the song, as well as received his shock of +bright-red hair, his blue, dancing eyes, and his fair and inevitably +freckled skin. +</p> +<p> +For Old Jerry had been a sailor, and had followed the sea till middle +life, haunted always by the words of the ringing chantey. Then one day +he had sung the song in earnest, in an Asiatic port, swinging and +thrilling round the capstan-circle with twenty others. And at San +Francisco he turned his back upon his ship and upon the sea, and went +to behold with his own eyes the banks of the Sacramento. +</p> +<p> +He beheld the gold, too, for he found employment at the Yellow Dream +mine, and proved of utmost usefulness in rigging the great ore-cables +across the river and two hundred feet above its surface. +</p> +<p> +After that he took charge of the cables and kept them in repair, and ran +them and loved them, and became himself an indispensable fixture of the +Yellow Dream mine. Then he loved pretty Margaret Kelly; but she had left +him and Young Jerry, the latter barely toddling, to take up her last +long sleep in the little graveyard among the great sober pines. +</p> +<p> +Old Jerry never went back to the sea. He remained by his cables, and +lavished upon them and Young Jerry all the love of his nature. When evil +days came to the Yellow-Dream, he still remained in the employ of the +company as watchman over the all but abandoned property. +</p> +<p> +But this morning he was not visible. Young Jerry only was to be seen, +sitting on the cabin step and singing the ancient chantey. He had cooked +and eaten his breakfast all by himself, and had just come out to take a +look at the world. Twenty feet before him stood the steel drum round +which the endless cable worked. By the drum, snug and fast, was the +ore-car. Following with his eyes the dizzy flight of the cables to the +farther bank, he could see the other drum and the other car. +</p> +<p> +The contrivance was worked by gravity, the loaded car crossing the river +by virtue of its own weight, and at the same time dragging the empty car +back. The loaded car being emptied, and the empty car being loaded with +more ore, the performance could be repeated—a performance which had +been repeated tens of thousands of times since the day Old Jerry became +the keeper of the cables. +</p> +<p> +Young Jerry broke off his song at the sound of approaching footsteps, A +tall, blue-shirted man, a rifle across the hollow of his arm, came out +from the gloom of the pine-trees. It was Hall, watchman of the Yellow +Dragon mine, the cables of which spanned the Sacramento a mile farther +up. +</p> +<p> +"Hello, younker!" was his greeting. "What you doin' here by your +lonesome?" +</p> +<p> +"Oh, bachin'," Jerry tried to answer unconcernedly, as if it were a very +ordinary sort of thing. "Dad's away, you see." +</p> +<p> +"Where's he gone?" the man asked. +</p> +<p> +"San Francisco. Went last night. His brother's dead in the old country, +and he's gone down to see the lawyers. Won't be back till tomorrow +night." +</p> +<p> +So spoke Jerry, and with pride, because of the responsibility which had +fallen to him of keeping an eye on the property of the Yellow Dream, and +the glorious adventure of living alone on the cliff above the river and +of cooking his own meals. +</p> +<p> +"Well, take care of yourself," Hall said, "and don't monkey with the +cables. I'm goin' to see if I can't pick up a deer in the Cripple Cow +Cańon." +</p> +<p> +"It's goin' to rain, I think," Jerry said, with mature deliberation. +</p> +<p> +"And it's little I mind a wettin'," Hall laughed, as he strode away +among the trees. +</p> +<p> +Jerry's prediction concerning rain was more than fulfilled. By ten +o'clock the pines were swaying and moaning, the cabin windows rattling, +and the rain driving by in fierce squalls. At half past eleven he +kindled a fire, and promptly at the stroke of twelve sat down to his +dinner. +</p> +<p> +No out-of-doors for him that day, he decided, when he had washed the few +dishes and put them neatly away; and he wondered how wet Hall was and +whether he had succeeded in picking up a deer. +</p> +<p> +At one o'clock there came a knock at the door, and when he opened it a +man and a woman staggered in on the breast of a great gust of wind. They +were Mr. and Mrs. Spillane, ranchers, who lived in a lonely valley a +dozen miles back from the river. +</p> +<p> +"Where's Hall?" was Spillane's opening speech, and he spoke sharply and +quickly. +</p> +<p> +Jerry noted that he was nervous and abrupt in his movements, and that +Mrs. Spillane seemed laboring under some strong anxiety. She was a thin, +washed-out, worked-out woman, whose life of dreary and unending toil had +stamped itself harshly upon her face. It was the same life that had +bowed her husband's shoulders and gnarled his hands and turned his hair +to a dry and dusty gray. +</p> +<p> +"He's gone hunting up Cripple Cow," Jerry answered. "Did you want to +cross?" +</p> +<p> +The woman began to weep quietly, while Spillane dropped a troubled +exclamation and strode to the window. Jerry joined him in gazing out to +where the cables lost themselves in the thick downpour. +</p> +<p> +It was the custom of the backwoods people in that section of country +to cross the Sacramento on the Yellow Dragon cable. For this service a +small toll was charged, which tolls the Yellow Dragon Company applied to +the payment of Hall's wages. +</p> +<p> +"We've got to get across, Jerry," Spillane said, at the same time +jerking his thumb over his shoulder in the direction of his wife. "Her +father's hurt at the Clover Leaf. Powder explosion. Not expected to +live. We just got word." +</p> +<p> +Jerry felt himself fluttering inwardly. He knew that Spillane wanted to +cross on the Yellow Dream cable, and in the absence of his father he +felt that he dared not assume such a responsibility, for the cable had +never been used for passengers; in fact, had not been used at all for a +long time. +</p> +<p> +"Maybe Hall will be back soon," he said. +</p> +<p> +Spillane shook his head, and demanded, "Where's your father?" +</p> +<p> +"San Francisco," Jerry answered, briefly. +</p> +<p> +Spillane groaned, and fiercely drove his clenched fist into the palm of +the other hand. His wife was crying more audibly, and Jerry could hear +her murmuring, "And daddy's dyin', dyin'!" +</p> +<p> +The tears welled up in his own eyes, and he stood irresolute, not +knowing what he should do. But the man decided for him. +</p> +<p> +"Look here, kid," he said, with determination, "the wife and me are +goin' over on this here cable of yours! Will you run it for us?" +</p> +<p> +Jerry backed slightly away. He did it unconsciously, as if recoiling +instinctively from something unwelcome. +</p> +<p> +"Better see if Hall's back," he suggested. +</p> +<p> +"And if he ain't?" +</p> +<p> +Again Jerry hesitated. +</p> +<p> +"I'll stand for the risk," Spillane added. "Don't you see, kid, we've +simply got to cross!" +</p> +<p> +Jerry nodded his head reluctantly. +</p> +<p> +"And there ain't no use waitin' for Hall," Spillane went on. "You know +as well as me he ain't back from Cripple Cow this time of day! So come +along and let's get started." +</p> +<p> +No wonder that Mrs. Spillane seemed terrified as they helped her +into the ore-car—so Jerry thought, as he gazed into the apparently +fathomless gulf beneath her. For it was so filled with rain and cloud, +hurtling and curling in the fierce blast, that the other shore, seven +hundred feet away, was invisible, while the cliff at their feet dropped +sheer down and lost itself in the swirling vapor. By all appearances it +might be a mile to bottom instead of two hundred feet. +</p> +<p> +"All ready?" he asked. +</p> +<p> +"Let her go!" Spillane shouted, to make himself heard above the roar of +the wind. +</p> +<p> +He had clambered in beside his wife, and was holding one of her hands in +his. +</p> +<p> +Jerry looked upon this with disapproval. "You'll need all your hands for +holdin' on, the way the wind's yowlin.'" +</p> +<p> +The man and the woman shifted their hands accordingly, tightly gripping +the sides of the car, and Jerry slowly and carefully released the brake. +The drum began to revolve as the endless cable passed round it, and the +car slid slowly out into the chasm, its trolley wheels rolling on the +stationary cable overhead, to which it was suspended. +</p> +<p> +It was not the first time Jerry had worked the cable, but it was the +first time he had done so away from the supervising eye of his father. +By means of the brake he regulated the speed of the car. It needed +regulating, for at times, caught by the stronger gusts of wind, it +swayed violently back and forth; and once, just before it was swallowed +up in a rain squall, it seemed about to spill out its human contents. +</p> +<p> +After that Jerry had no way of knowing where the car was except by means +of the cable. This he watched keenly as it glided around the drum. +"Three hundred feet," he breathed to himself, as the cable markings went +by, "three hundred and fifty, four hundred; four hundred and——" +</p> +<p> +The cable had stopped. Jerry threw off the brake, but it did not move. +He caught the cable with his hands and tried to start it by tugging +smartly. Something had gone wrong. What? He could not guess; he could +not see. Looking up, he could vaguely make out the empty car, which had +been crossing from the opposite cliff at a speed equal to that of the +loaded car. It was about two hundred and fifty feet away. That meant, he +knew, that somewhere in the gray obscurity, two hundred feet above the +river and two hundred and fifty feet from the other bank, Spillane and +his wife were suspended and stationary. +</p> +<p> +Three times Jerry shouted with all the shrill force of his lungs, but +no answering cry came out of the storm. It was impossible for him to +hear them or to make himself heard. As he stood for a moment, thinking +rapidly, the flying clouds seemed to thin and lift. He caught a brief +glimpse of the swollen Sacramento beneath, and a briefer glimpse of the +car and the man and woman. Then the clouds descended thicker than ever. +</p> +<p> +The boy examined the drum closely, and found nothing the matter with it. +Evidently it was the drum on the other side that had gone wrong. He was +appalled at thought of the man and woman out there in the midst of the +storm, hanging over the abyss, rocking back and forth in the frail car +and ignorant of what was taking place on shore. And he did not like to +think of their hanging there while he went round by the Yellow Dragon +cable to the other drum. +</p> +<p> +But he remembered a block and tackle in the tool-house, and ran and +brought it. They were double blocks, and he murmured aloud, "A purchase +of four," as he made the tackle fast to the endless cable. Then he +heaved upon it, heaved until it seemed that his arms were being drawn +out from their sockets and that his shoulder muscles would be ripped +asunder. Yet the cable did not budge. Nothing remained but to cross over +to the other side. +</p> +<p> +He was already soaking wet, so he did not mind the rain as he ran over +the trail to the Yellow Dragon. The storm was with him, and it was easy +going, although there was no Hall at the other end of it to man the +brake for him and regulate the speed of the car. This he did for +himself, however, by means of a stout rope, which he passed, with a +turn, round the stationary cable. +</p> +<p> +As the full force of the wind struck him in mid-air, swaying the cable +and whistling and roaring past it, and rocking and careening the car, he +appreciated more fully what must be the condition of mind of Spillane +and his wife. And this appreciation gave strength to him, as, safely +across, he fought his way up the other bank, in the teeth of the gale, +to the Yellow Dream cable. +</p> +<p> +To his consternation, he found the drum in thorough working order. +Everything was running smoothly at both ends. Where was the hitch? In +the middle, without a doubt. +</p> +<p> +From this side, the car containing Spillane was only two hundred and +fifty feet away. He could make out the man and woman through the +whirling vapor, crouching in the bottom of the car and exposed to the +pelting rain and the full fury of the wind. In a lull between the +squalls he shouted to Spillane to examine the trolley of the car. +</p> +<p> +Spillane heard, for he saw him rise up cautiously on his knees, and with +his hands go over both trolley-wheels. Then he turned his face toward +the bank. +</p> +<p> +"She's all right, kid!" +</p> +<p> +Jerry heard the words, faint and far, as from a remote distance. Then +what was the matter? Nothing remained but the other and empty car, which +he could not see, but which he knew to be there, somewhere in that +terrible gulf two hundred feet beyond Spillane's car. +</p> +<p> +His mind was made up on the instant. He was only fourteen years old, +slightly and wirily built; but his life had been lived among the +mountains, his father had taught him no small measure of "sailoring," +and he was not particularly afraid of heights. +</p> +<p> +In the tool-box by the drum he found an old monkey-wrench and a short +bar of iron, also a coil of fairly new Manila rope. He looked in vain +for a piece of board with which to rig a "boatswain's chair." There was +nothing at hand but large planks, which he had no means of sawing, so he +was compelled to do without the more comfortable form of saddle. +</p> +<p> +The saddle he rigged was very simple. With the rope he made merely a +large loop round the stationary cable, to which hung the empty car. When +he sat in the loop his hands could just reach the cable conveniently, +and where the rope was likely to fray against the cable he lashed his +coat, in lieu of the old sack he would have used had he been able to +find one. +</p> +<p> +These preparations swiftly completed, he swung out over the chasm, +sitting in the rope saddle and pulling himself along the cable by his +hands. With him he carried the monkey-wrench and short iron bar and a +few spare feet of rope. It was a slightly up-hill pull, but this he did +not mind so much as the wind. When the furious gusts hurled him back and +forth, sometimes half twisting him about, and he gazed down into the +gray depths, he was aware that he was afraid. It was an old cable. What +if it should break under his weight and the pressure of the wind? +</p> +<p> +It was fear he was experiencing, honest fear, and he knew that there was +a "gone" feeling in the pit of his stomach, and a trembling of the knees +which he could not quell. +</p> +<p> +But he held himself bravely to the task. The cable was old and worn, +sharp pieces of wire projected from it, and his hands were cut and +bleeding by the time he took his first rest, and held a shouted +conversation with Spillane. The car was directly beneath him and only a +few feet away, so he was able to explain the condition of affairs and +his errand. +</p> +<p> +"Wish I could help you," Spillane shouted at him as he started on, "but +the wife's gone all to pieces! Anyway, kid, take care of yourself! I got +myself in this fix, but it's up to you to get me out!" +</p> +<p> +"Oh, I'll do it!" Jerry shouted back. "Tell Mrs. Spillane that she'll be +ashore now in a jiffy!" +</p> +<p> +In the midst of pelting rain, which half-blinded him, swinging from side +to side like a rapid and erratic pendulum, his torn hands paining him +severely and his lungs panting from his exertions and panting from the +very air which the wind sometimes blew into his mouth with strangling +force, he finally arrived at the empty car. +</p> +<p> +A single glance showed him that he had not made the dangerous journey in +vain. The front trolley-wheel, loose from long wear, had jumped the +cable, and the cable was now jammed tightly between the wheel and the +sheave-block. +</p> +<p> +One thing was clear—the wheel must be removed from the block. A second +thing was equally clear—while the wheel was being removed the car would +have to be fastened to the cable by the rope he had brought. +</p> +<p> +At the end of a quarter of an hour, beyond making the car secure, he +had accomplished nothing. The key which bound the wheel on its axle was +rusted and jammed. He hammered at it with one hand and held on the best +he could with the other, but the wind persisted in swinging and twisting +his body, and made his blows miss more often than not. Nine-tenths of +the strength he expended was in trying to hold himself steady. For fear +that he might drop the monkey-wrench he made it fast to his wrist with +his handkerchief. +</p> +<p> +At the end of half an hour Jerry had hammered the key clear, but he +could not draw it out. A dozen times it seemed that he must give up +in despair, that all the danger and toil he had gone through were for +nothing. Then an idea came to him, and he went through his pockets with +feverish haste, and found what he sought—a ten-penny nail. +</p> +<p> +But for that nail, put in his pocket he knew not when or why, he would +have had to make another trip over the cable and back. Thrusting the +nail through the looped head of the key, he at last had a grip, and in +no time the key was out. +</p> +<p> +Then came punching and prying with the iron bar to get the wheel itself +free from where it was jammed by the cable against the side of the +block. After that Jerry replaced the wheel, and by means of the rope, +heaved up on the car till the trolley once more rested properly on the +cable. +</p> +<p> +All this took time. More than an hour and a half had elapsed since his +arrival at the empty car. And now, for the first time, he dropped out of +his saddle and down into the car. He removed the detaining ropes, and +the trolley-wheels began slowly to revolve. The car was moving, and he +knew that somewhere beyond, although he could not see, the car of +Spillane was likewise moving, and in the opposite direction. +</p> +<p> +There was no need for a brake, for his weight sufficiently +counterbalanced the weight in the other car; and soon he saw the cliff +rising out of the cloud depths and the old familiar drum going round and +round. +</p> +<p> +Jerry climbed out and made the car securely fast. He did it deliberately +and carefully, and then, quite unhero-like, he sank down by the drum, +regardless of the pelting storm, and burst out sobbing. +</p> +<p> +There were many reasons why he sobbed—partly from the pain of his +hands, which was excruciating; partly from exhaustion; partly from +relief and release from the nerve-tension he had been under for so long; +and in a large measure from thankfulness that the man and woman were +saved. +</p> +<p> +They were not there to thank him; but somewhere beyond that howling, +storm-driven gulf he knew they were hurrying over the trail toward the +Clover Leaf. +</p> +<p> +Jerry staggered to the cabin, and his hand left the white knob red with +blood as he opened the door, but he took no notice of it. +</p> +<p> +He was too proudly contented with himself, for he was certain that he +had done well, and he was honest enough to admit to himself that he had +done well. But a small regret arose and persisted in his thoughts—if +his father had only been there to see! +</p> +<a name="h2H_4_0007" id="h2H_4_0007"><!-- H2 anchor --></a> + +<div style="height: 4em;"><br /><br /><br /><br /></div> + +<h2> + CHRIS FARRINGTON: ABLE SEAMAN +</h2> +<p> +"If you vas in der old country ships, a liddle shaver like you vood pe +only der boy, und you vood wait on der able seamen. Und ven der able +seaman sing out, 'Boy, der water-jug!' you vood jump quick, like a shot, +und bring der water-jug. Und ven der able seaman sing out, 'Boy, my +boots!' you vood get der boots. Und you vood pe politeful, und say +'Yessir' und 'No sir.' But you pe in der American ship, und you t'ink +you are so good as der able seamen. Chris, mine boy, I haf ben a +sailorman for twenty-two years, und do you t'ink you are so good as me? +I vas a sailorman pefore you vas borned, und I knot und reef und splice +ven you play mit topstrings und fly kites." +</p> +<p> +"But you are unfair, Emil!" cried Chris Farrington, his sensitive face +flushed and hurt. He was a slender though strongly built young fellow of +seventeen, with Yankee ancestry writ large all over him. +</p> +<p> +"Dere you go vonce again!" the Swedish sailor exploded. "My name is +Mister Johansen, und a kid of a boy like you call me 'Emil!' It vas +insulting, und comes pecause of der American ship!" +</p> +<p> +"But you call me 'Chris!'" the boy expostulated, reproachfully. +</p> +<p> +"But you vas a boy." +</p> +<p> +"Who does a man's work," Chris retorted. "And because I do a man's work +I have as much right to call you by your first name as you me. We are +all equals in this fo'castle, and you know it. When we signed for the +voyage in San Francisco, we signed as sailors on the <i>Sophie +Sutherland</i> and there was no difference made with any of us. Haven't +I always done my work? Did I ever shirk? Did you or any other man ever +have to take a wheel for me? Or a lookout? Or go aloft?" +</p> +<p> +"Chris is right," interrupted a young English sailor. "No man has had to +do a tap of his work yet. He signed as good as any of us, and he's shown +himself as good—" +</p> +<p> +"Better!" broke in a Nova Scotia man. "Better than some of us! When +we struck the sealing-grounds he turned out to be next to the best +boat-steerer aboard. Only French Louis, who'd been at it for years, +could beat him. I'm only a boat-puller, and you're only a boat-puller, +too, Emil Johansen, for all your twenty-two years at sea. Why don't you +become a boat-steerer?" +</p> +<p> +"Too clumsy," laughed the Englishman, "and too slow." +</p> +<p> +"Little that counts, one way or the other," joined in Dane Jurgensen, +coming to the aid of his Scandinavian brother. "Emil is a man grown and +an able seaman; the boy is neither." +</p> +<p> +And so the argument raged back and forth, the Swedes, Norwegians and +Danes, because of race kinship, taking the part of Johansen, and the +English, Canadians and Americans taking the part of Chris. From an +unprejudiced point of view, the right was on the side of Chris. As he +had truly said, he did a man's work, and the same work that any of them +did. But they were prejudiced, and badly so, and out of the words which +passed rose a standing quarrel which divided the forecastle into two +parties. +</p> +<hr /> +<p> +The <i>Sophie Sutherland</i> was a seal-hunter, registered out of San +Francisco, and engaged in hunting the furry sea-animals along the +Japanese coast north to Bering Sea. The other vessels were two-masted +schooners, but she was a three-master and the largest in the fleet. In +fact, she was a full-rigged, three-topmast schooner, newly built. +</p> +<p> +Although Chris Farrington knew that justice was with him, and that he +performed all his work faithfully and well, many a time, in secret +thought, he longed for some pressing emergency to arise whereby he could +demonstrate to the Scandinavian seamen that he also was an able seaman. +</p> +<p> +But one stormy night, by an accident for which he was in nowise +accountable, in overhauling a spare anchor-chain he had all the fingers +of his left hand badly crushed. And his hopes were likewise crushed, for +it was impossible for him to continue hunting with the boats, and he was +forced to stay idly aboard until his fingers should heal. Yet, although +he little dreamed it, this very accident was to give him the +long-looked-for opportunity. +</p> +<p> +One afternoon in the latter part of May the <i>Sophie Sutherland</i> +rolled sluggishly in a breathless calm. The seals were abundant, the +hunting good, and the boats were all away and out of sight. And with +them was almost every man of the crew. Besides Chris, there remained +only the captain, the sailing-master and the Chinese cook. +</p> +<p> +The captain was captain only by courtesy. He was an old man, past +eighty, and blissfully ignorant of the sea and its ways; but he was the +owner of the vessel, and hence the honorable title. Of course the +sailing-master, who was really captain, was a thorough-going seaman. The +mate, whose post was aboard, was out with the boats, having temporarily +taken Chris's place as boat-steerer. +</p> +<p> +When good weather and good sport came together, the boats were +accustomed to range far and wide, and often did not return to the +schooner until long after dark. But for all that it was a perfect +hunting day, Chris noted a growing anxiety on the part of the +sailing-master. He paced the deck nervously, and was constantly sweeping +the horizon with his marine glasses. Not a boat was in sight. As sunset +arrived, he even sent Chris aloft to the mizzen-topmast-head, but with +no better luck. The boats could not possibly be back before midnight. +</p> +<p> +Since noon the barometer had been falling with startling rapidity, and +all the signs were ripe for a great storm—how great, not even the +sailing-master anticipated. He and Chris set to work to prepare for +it. They put storm gaskets on the furled topsails, lowered and stowed +the foresail and spanker and took in the two inner jibs. In the one +remaining jib they put a single reef, and a single reef in the mainsail. +</p> +<p> +Night had fallen before they finished, and with the darkness came the +storm. A low moan swept over the sea, and the wind struck the <i>Sophie +Sutherland</i> flat. But she righted quickly, and with the sailing-master +at the wheel, sheered her bow into within five points of the wind. +Working as well as he could with his bandaged hand, and with the feeble +aid of the Chinese cook, Chris went forward and backed the jib over to +the weather side. This with the flat mainsail, left the schooner hove to. +</p> +<p> +"God help the boats! It's no gale! It's a typhoon!" the sailing-master +shouted to Chris at eleven o'clock. "Too much canvas! Got to get two +more reefs into that mainsail, and got to do it right away!" He glanced +at the old captain, shivering in oilskins at the binnacle and holding on +for dear life. "There's only you and I, Chris—and the cook; but he's +next to worthless!" +</p> +<p> +In order to make the reef, it was necessary to lower the mainsail, and +the removal of this after pressure was bound to make the schooner fall +off before the wind and sea because of the forward pressure of the jib. +</p> +<p> +"Take the wheel!" the sailing-master directed. "And when I give the +word, hard up with it! And when she's square before it, steady her! And +keep her there! We'll heave to again as soon as I get the reefs in!" +</p> +<p> +Gripping the kicking spokes, Chris watched him and the reluctant cook go +forward into the howling darkness. The <i>Sophie Sutherland</i> was +plunging into the huge head-seas and wallowing tremendously, the tense +steel stays and taut rigging humming like harp-strings to the wind. A +buffeted cry came to his ears, and he felt the schooner's bow paying off +of its own accord. The mainsail was down! +</p> +<p> +He ran the wheel hard-over and kept anxious track of the changing +direction of the wind on his face and of the heave of the vessel. This +was the crucial moment. In performing the evolution she would have to +pass broadside to the surge before she could get before it. The wind was +blowing directly on his right cheek, when he felt the <i>Sophie +Sutherland</i> lean over and begin to rise toward the sky—up—up—an +infinite distance! Would she clear the crest of the gigantic wave? +</p> +<p> +Again by the feel of it, for he could see nothing, he knew that a wall +of water was rearing and curving far above him along the whole weather +side. There was an instant's calm as the liquid wall intervened and shut +off the wind. The schooner righted, and for that instant seemed at +perfect rest. Then she rolled to meet the descending rush. +</p> +<p> +Chris shouted to the captain to hold tight, and prepared himself for the +shock. But the man did not live who could face it. An ocean of water +smote Chris's back and his clutch on the spokes was loosened as if it +were a baby's. Stunned, powerless, like a straw on the face of a +torrent, he was swept onward he knew not whither. Missing the corner of +the cabin, he was dashed forward along the poop runway a hundred feet or +more, striking violently against the foot of the foremast. A second +wave, crushing inboard, hurled him back the way he had come, and left +him half-drowned where the poop steps should have been. +</p> +<p> +Bruised and bleeding, dimly conscious, he felt for the rail and dragged +himself to his feet. Unless something could be done, he knew the last +moment had come. As he faced the poop, the wind drove into his mouth +with suffocating force. This brought him back to his senses with a +start. The wind was blowing from dead aft! The schooner was out of the +trough and before it! But the send of the sea was bound to breach her to +again. Crawling up the runway, he managed to get to the wheel just in +time to prevent this. The binnacle light was still burning. They were +safe! +</p> +<p> +That is, he and the schooner were safe. As to the welfare of his three +companions he could not say. Nor did he dare leave the wheel in order to +find out, for it took every second of his undivided attention to keep +the vessel to her course. The least fraction of carelessness and the +heave of the sea under the quarter was liable to thrust her into the +trough. So, a boy of one hundred and forty pounds, he clung to his +herculean task of guiding the two hundred straining tons of fabric amid +the chaos of the great storm forces. +</p> +<p> +Half an hour later, groaning and sobbing, the captain crawled to Chris's +feet. All was lost, he whimpered. He was smitten unto death. The galley +had gone by the board, the mainsail and running-gear, the cook, +everything! +</p> +<p> +"Where's the sailing-master?" Chris demanded when he had caught his +breath after steadying a wild lurch of the schooner. It was no child's +play to steer a vessel under single-reefed jib before a typhoon. +</p> +<p> +"Clean up for'ard," the old man replied. "Jammed under the +fo'c'sle-head, but still breathing. Both his arms are broken, he says, +and he doesn't know how many ribs. He's hurt bad." +</p> +<p> +"Well, he'll drown there the way she's shipping water through the +hawse-pipes. Go for'ard!" Chris commanded, taking charge of things as a +matter of course. "Tell him not to worry; that I'm at the wheel. Help +him as much as you can, and make him help"—he stopped and ran the +spokes to starboard as a tremendous billow rose under the stern and +yawed the schooner to port—"and make him help himself for the rest. +Unship the fo'castle hatch and get him down into a bunk. Then ship the +hatch again." +</p> +<p> +The captain turned his aged face forward and wavered pitifully. The +waist of the ship was full of water to the bulwarks. He had just come +through it, and knew death lurked every inch of the way. +</p> +<p> +"Go!" Chris shouted, fiercely. And as the fear-stricken man started, +"And take another look for the cook!" +</p> +<p> +Two hours later, almost dead from suffering, the captain returned. He +had obeyed orders. The sailing-master was helpless, although safe in a +bunk; the cook was gone. Chris sent the captain below to the cabin to +change his clothes. +</p> +<p> +After interminable hours of toil, day broke cold and gray. Chris looked +about him. The <i>Sophie Sutherland</i> was racing before the typhoon +like a thing possessed. There was no rain, but the wind whipped the +spray of the sea mast-high, obscuring everything except in the immediate +neighborhood. +</p> +<p> +Two waves only could Chris see at a time—the one before and the one +behind. So small and insignificant the schooner seemed on the long +Pacific roll! Rushing up a maddening mountain, she would poise like a +cockle-shell on the giddy summit, breathless and rolling, leap outward +and down into the yawning chasm beneath, and bury herself in the smother +of foam at the bottom. Then the recovery, another mountain, another +sickening upward rush, another poise, and the downward crash. Abreast of +him, to starboard, like a ghost of the storm, Chris saw the cook dashing +apace with the schooner. Evidently, when washed overboard, he had +grasped and become entangled in a trailing halyard. +</p> +<p> +For three hours more, alone with this gruesome companion, Chris held the +<i>Sophie Sutherland</i> before the wind and sea. He had long since +forgotten his mangled fingers. The bandages had been torn away, and the +cold, salt spray had eaten into the half-healed wounds until they were +numb and no longer pained. But he was not cold. The terrific labor of +steering forced the perspiration from every pore. Yet he was faint and +weak with hunger and exhaustion, and hailed with delight the advent on +deck of the captain, who fed him all of a pound of cake-chocolate. It +strengthened him at once. +</p> +<p> +He ordered the captain to cut the halyard by which the cook's body was +towing, and also to go forward and cut loose the jib-halyard and sheet. +When he had done so, the jib fluttered a couple of moments like a +handkerchief, then tore out of the bolt-ropes and vanished. The +<i>Sophie Sutherland</i> was running under bare poles. +</p> +<p> +By noon the storm had spent itself, and by six in the evening the waves +had died down sufficiently to let Chris leave the helm. It was almost +hopeless to dream of the small boats weathering the typhoon, but there +is always the chance in saving human life, and Chris at once applied +himself to going back over the course along which he had fled. He +managed to get a reef in one of the inner jibs and two reefs in the +spanker, and then, with the aid of the watch-tackle, to hoist them to +the stiff breeze that yet blew. And all through the night, tacking back +and forth on the back track, he shook out canvas as fast as the wind +would permit. +</p> +<p> +The injured sailing-master had turned delirious and between tending him +and lending a hand with the ship, Chris kept the captain busy. "Taught +me more seamanship," as he afterward said, "than I'd learned on the +whole voyage." But by daybreak the old man's feeble frame succumbed, and +he fell off into exhausted sleep on the weather poop. +</p> +<p> +Chris, who could now lash the wheel, covered the tired man with blankets +from below, and went fishing in the lazaretto for something to eat. +But by the day following he found himself forced to give in, drowsing +fitfully by the wheel and waking ever and anon to take a look at things. +</p> +<p> +On the afternoon of the third day he picked up a schooner, dismasted and +battered. As he approached, close-hauled on the wind, he saw her decks +crowded by an unusually large crew, and on sailing in closer, made out +among others the faces of his missing comrades. And he was just in the +nick of time, for they were fighting a losing fight at the pumps. An +hour later they, with the crew of the sinking craft, were aboard the +<i>Sophie Sutherland</i>. +</p> +<p> +Having wandered so far from their own vessel, they had taken refuge on +the strange schooner just before the storm broke. She was a Canadian +sealer on her first voyage, and as was now apparent, her last. +</p> +<p> +The captain of the <i>Sophie Sutherland</i> had a story to tell, also, +and he told it well—so well, in fact, that when all hands were gathered +together on deck during the dog-watch, Emil Johansen strode over to +Chris and gripped him by the hand. +</p> +<p> +"Chris," he said, so loudly that all could hear, "Chris, I gif in. You +vas yoost so good a sailorman as I. You vas a bully boy, und able +seaman, und I pe proud for you! +</p> +<p> +"Und Chris!" He turned as if he had forgotten something, and called +back, "From dis time always you call me 'Emil' mitout der 'Mister!'" +</p> +<a name="h2H_4_0008" id="h2H_4_0008"><!-- H2 anchor --></a> + +<div style="height: 4em;"><br /><br /><br /><br /></div> + +<h2> + TO REPEL BOARDERS +</h2> +<p> +"No; honest, now, Bob, I'm sure I was born too late. The twentieth +century's no place for me. If I'd had my way——" +</p> +<p> +"You'd have been born in the sixteenth," I broke in, laughing, "with +Drake and Hawkins and Raleigh and the rest of the sea-kings." +</p> +<p> +"You're right!" Paul affirmed. He rolled over upon his back on the +little after-deck, with a long sigh of dissatisfaction. +</p> +<p> +It was a little past midnight, and, with the wind nearly astern, we were +running down Lower San Francisco Bay to Bay Farm Island. Paul Fairfax +and I went to the same school, lived next door to each other, and +"chummed it" together. By saving money, by earning more, and by +each of us foregoing a bicycle on his birthday, we had collected +the purchase-price of the <i>Mist</i>, a beamy twenty-eight-footer, +sloop-rigged, with baby topsail and centerboard. Paul's father was a +yachtsman himself, and he had conducted the business for us, poking +around, overhauling, sticking his penknife into the timbers, and testing +the planks with the greatest care. In fact, it was on his schooner, +the <i>Whim</i>, that Paul and I had picked up what we knew about +boat-sailing, and now that the <i>Mist</i> was ours, we were hard at +work adding to our knowledge. +</p> +<p> +The <i>Mist</i>, being broad of beam, was comfortable and roomy. +A man could stand upright in the cabin, and what with the stove, +cooking-utensils, and bunks, we were good for trips in her of a week at +a time. And we were just starting out on the first of such trips, and it +was because it was the first trip that we were sailing by night. Early +in the evening we had beaten out from Oakland, and we were now off the +mouth of Alameda Creek, a large salt-water estuary which fills and +empties San Leandro Bay. +</p> +<p> +"Men lived in those days," Paul said, so suddenly as to startle me from +my own thoughts. "In the days of the sea-kings, I mean," he explained. +</p> +<p> +I said "Oh!" sympathetically, and began to whistle "Captain Kidd." +</p> +<p> +"Now, I've my ideas about things," Paul went on. "They talk about +romance and adventure and all that, but I say romance and adventure are +dead. We're too civilized. We don't have adventures in the twentieth +century. We go to the circus——" +</p> +<p> +"But——" I strove to interrupt, though he would not listen to me. +</p> +<p> +"You look here, Bob," he said. "In all the time you and I've gone +together what adventures have we had? True, we were out in the hills +once, and didn't get back till late at night, and we were good and +hungry, but we weren't even lost. We knew where we were all the time. It +was only a case of walk. What I mean is, we've never had to fight for +our lives. Understand? We've never had a pistol fired at us, or a +cannon, or a sword waving over our heads, or—or anything.... +</p> +<p> +"You'd better slack away three or four feet of that main-sheet," he said +in a hopeless sort of way, as though it did not matter much anyway. "The +wind's still veering around. +</p> +<p> +"Why, in the old times the sea was one constant glorious adventure," +he continued. "A boy left school and became a midshipman, and in a few +weeks was cruising after Spanish galleons or locking yard-arms with a +French privateer, or—doing lots of things." +</p> +<p> +"Well—there <i>are</i> adventures today," I objected. +</p> +<p> +But Paul went on as though I had not spoken: +</p> +<p> +"And today we go from school to high school, and from high school to +college, and then we go into the office or become doctors and things, +and the only adventures we know about are the ones we read in books. +Why, just as sure as I'm sitting here on the stern of the sloop +<i>Mist</i>, just so sure am I that we wouldn't know what to do if a +real adventure came along. Now, would we?" +</p> +<p> +"Oh, I don't know," I answered non-committally. +</p> +<p> +"Well, you wouldn't be a coward, would you?" he demanded. +</p> +<p> +I was sure I wouldn't and said so. +</p> +<p> +"But you don't have to be a coward to lose your head, do you?" +</p> +<p> +I agreed that brave men might get excited. +</p> +<p> +"Well, then," Paul summed up, with a note of regret in his voice, "the +chances are that we'd spoil the adventure. So it's a shame, and that's +all I can say about it." +</p> +<p> +"The adventure hasn't come yet," I answered, not caring to see him down +in the mouth over nothing. You see, Paul was a peculiar fellow in some +things, and I knew him pretty well. He read a good deal, and had a quick +imagination, and once in a while he'd get into moods like this one. So I +said, "The adventure hasn't come yet, so there's no use worrying about +its being spoiled. For all we know, it might turn out splendidly." +</p> +<p> +Paul didn't say anything for some time, and I was thinking he was out of +the mood, when he spoke up suddenly: +</p> +<p> +"Just imagine, Bob Kellogg, as we're sailing along now, just as we are, +and never mind what for, that a boat should bear down upon us with armed +men in it, what would you do to repel boarders? Think you could rise to +it?" +</p> +<p> +"What would <i>you</i> do?" I asked pointedly. "Remember, we haven't +even a single shotgun aboard." +</p> +<p> +"You would surrender, then?" he demanded angrily. "But suppose they were +going to kill you?" +</p> +<p> +"I'm not saying what I'd do," I answered stiffly, beginning to get a +little angry myself. "I'm asking what you'd do, without weapons of any +sort?" +</p> +<p> +"I'd find something," he replied—rather shortly, I thought. +</p> +<p> +I began to chuckle. "Then the adventure wouldn't be spoiled, would it? +And you've been talking rubbish." +</p> +<p> +Paul struck a match, looked at his watch, and remarked that it was +nearly one o'clock—a way he had when the argument went against him. +Besides, this was the nearest we ever came to quarreling now, though +our share of squabbles had fallen to us in the earlier days of our +friendship. I had just seen a little white light ahead when Paul +spoke again. +</p> +<p> +"Anchor-light," he said. "Funny place for people to drop the hook. It +may be a scow-schooner with a dinky astern, so you'd better go wide." +</p> +<p> +I eased the <i>Mist</i> several points, and, the wind puffing up, we +went plowing along at a pretty fair speed, passing the light so wide +that we could not make out what manner of craft it marked. Suddenly the +<i>Mist</i> slacked up in a slow and easy way, as though running upon +soft mud. We were both startled. The wind was blowing stronger than +ever, and yet we were almost at a standstill. +</p> +<p> +"Mud-flat out here? Never heard of such a thing!" +</p> +<p> +So Paul exclaimed with a snort of unbelief, and, seizing an oar, shoved +it down over the side. And straight down it went till the water wet +his hand. There was no bottom! Then we were dumbfounded. The wind was +whistling by, and still the <i>Mist</i> was moving ahead at a snail's +pace. There seemed something dead about her, and it was all I could do +at the tiller to keep her from swinging up into the wind. +</p> +<p> +"Listen!" I laid my hand on Paul's arm. We could hear the sound of +rowlocks, and saw the little white light bobbing up and down and now +very close to us. "There's your armed boat," I whispered in fun. +"Beat the crew to quarters and stand by to repel boarders!" +</p> +<p> +We both laughed, and were still laughing when a wild scream of rage came +out of the darkness, and the approaching boat shot under our stern. +By the light of the lantern it carried we could see the two men in it +distinctly. They were foreign-looking fellows with sun-bronzed faces, +and with knitted tam-o'-shanters perched seaman fashion on their heads. +Bright-colored woolen sashes were around their waists, and long +sea-boots covered their legs. I remember yet the cold chill which passed +along my backbone as I noted the tiny gold ear-rings in the ears of one. +For all the world they were like pirates stepped out of the pages of +romance. And, to make the picture complete, their faces were distorted +with anger, and each flourished a long knife. They were both shouting, +in high-pitched voices, some foreign jargon we could not understand. +</p> +<p> +One of them, the smaller of the two, and if anything the more +vicious-looking, put his hands on the rail of the <i>Mist</i> and +started to come aboard. Quick as a flash Paul placed the end of the oar +against the man's chest and shoved him back into his boat. He fell in a +heap, but scrambled to his feet, waving the knife and shrieking: +</p> +<p> +"You break-a my net-a! You break-a my net-a!" +</p> +<p> +And he held forth in the jargon again, his companion joining him, and +both preparing to make another dash to come aboard the <i>Mist</i>. +</p> +<p> +"They're Italian fishermen," I cried, the facts of the case breaking in +upon me. "We've run over their smelt-net, and it's slipped along the +keel and fouled our rudder. We're anchored to it." +</p> +<p> +"Yes, and they're murderous chaps, too," Paul said, sparring at them +with the oar to make them keep their distance. +</p> +<p> +"Say, you fellows!" he called to them. "Give us a chance and we'll get +it clear for you! We didn't know your net was there. We didn't mean to +do it, you know!" +</p> +<p> +"You won't lose anything!" I added. "We'll pay the damages!" +</p> +<p> +But they could not understand what we were saying, or did not care to +understand. +</p> +<p> +"You break-a my net-a! You break-a my net-a!" the smaller man, the one +with the earrings, screamed back, making furious gestures. "I fix-a you! +You-a see, I fix-a you!" +</p> +<p> +This time, when Paul thrust him back, he seized the oar in his hands, +and his companion jumped aboard. I put my back against the tiller, and +no sooner had he landed, and before he had caught his balance, than I +met him with another oar, and he fell heavily backward into the boat. It +was getting serious, and when he arose and caught my oar, and I realized +his strength, I confess that I felt a goodly tinge of fear. But though +he was stronger than I, instead of dragging me overboard when he +wrenched on the oar, he merely pulled his boat in closer; and when +I shoved, the boat was forced away. Besides, the knife, still in his +right hand, made him awkward and somewhat counterbalanced the advantage +his superior strength gave him. Paul and his enemy were in the same +situation—a sort of deadlock, which continued for several seconds, but +which could not last. Several times I shouted that we would pay for +whatever damage their net had suffered, but my words seemed to be +without effect. +</p> +<p> +Then my man began to tuck the oar under his arm, and to come up along +it, slowly, hand over hand. The small man did the same with Paul. Moment +by moment they came closer, and closer, and we knew that the end was +only a question of time. +</p> +<p> +"Hard up, Bob!" Paul called softly to me. +</p> +<p> +I gave him a quick glance, and caught an instant's glimpse of what I +took to be a very pale face and a very set jaw. +</p> +<p> +"Oh, Bob," he pleaded, "hard up your helm! Hard up your helm, Bob!" +</p> +<p> +And his meaning dawned upon me. Still holding to my end of the oar, I +shoved the tiller over with my back, and even bent my body to keep it +over. As it was the <i>Mist</i> was nearly dead before the wind, and +this maneuver was bound to force her to jibe her mainsail from one side +to the other. I could tell by the "feel" when the wind spilled out of +the canvas and the boom tilted up. Paul's man had now gained a footing +on the little deck, and my man was just scrambling up. +</p> +<p> +"Look out!" I shouted to Paul. "Here she comes!" +</p> +<p> +Both he and I let go the oars and tumbled into the cockpit. The next +instant the big boom and the heavy blocks swept over our heads, the +main-sheet whipping past like a great coiling snake and the <i>Mist</i> +heeling over with a violent jar. Both men had jumped for it, but in some +way the little man either got his knife-hand jammed or fell upon it, for +the first sight we caught of him, he was standing in his boat, his +bleeding fingers clasped close between his knees and his face all +twisted with pain and helpless rage. +</p> +<p> +"Now's our chance!" Paul whispered. "Over with you!" +</p> +<p> +And on either side of the rudder we lowered ourselves into the water, +pressing the net down with our feet, till, with a jerk, it went clear, +Then it was up and in, Paul at the main-sheet and I at the tiller, the +<i>Mist</i> plunging ahead with freedom in her motion, and the little +white light astern growing small and smaller. +</p> +<p> +"Now that you've had your adventure, do you feel any better?" I remember +asking when we had changed our clothes and were sitting dry and +comfortable again in the cockpit. +</p> +<p> +"Well, if I don't have the nightmare for a week to come"—Paul paused +and puckered his brows in judicial fashion—"it will be because I can't +sleep, that's one thing sure!" +</p> +<a name="h2H_4_0009" id="h2H_4_0009"><!-- H2 anchor --></a> + +<div style="height: 4em;"><br /><br /><br /><br /></div> + +<h2> + AN ADVENTURE IN THE UPPER SEA +</h2> +<p> +I am a retired captain of the upper sea. That is to say, when I was a +younger man (which is not so long ago) I was an aeronaut and navigated +that aerial ocean which is all around about us and above us. Naturally +it is a hazardous profession, and naturally I have had many thrilling +experiences, the most thrilling, or at least the most nerve-racking, +being the one I am about to relate. +</p> +<p> +It happened before I went in for hydrogen gas balloons, all of varnished +silk, doubled and lined, and all that, and fit for voyages of days +instead of mere hours. The "Little Nassau" (named after the "Great +Nassau" of many years back) was the balloon I was making ascents in at +the time. It was a fair-sized, hot-air affair, of single thickness, good +for an hour's flight or so and capable of attaining an altitude of a +mile or more. It answered my purpose, for my act at the time was making +half-mile parachute jumps at recreation parks and country fairs. I was +in Oakland, a California town, filling a summer's engagement with a +street railway company. The company owned a large park outside the city, +and of course it was to its interest to provide attractions which would +send the townspeople over its line when they went out to get a whiff of +country air. My contract called for two ascensions weekly, and my act +was an especially taking feature, for it was on my days that the largest +crowds were drawn. +</p> +<p> +Before you can understand what happened, I must first explain a bit +about the nature of the hot air balloon which is used for parachute +jumping. If you have ever witnessed such a jump, you will remember that +directly the parachute was cut loose the balloon turned upside down, +emptied itself of its smoke and heated air, flattened out and fell +straight down, beating the parachute to the ground. Thus there is no +chasing a big deserted bag for miles and miles across the country, and +much time, as well as trouble, is thereby saved. This maneuver is +accomplished by attaching a weight, at the end of a long rope, to the +top of the balloon. The aeronaut, with his parachute and trapeze, hangs +to the bottom of the balloon, and, weighing more, keeps it right side +down. But when he lets go, the weight attached to the top immediately +drags the top down, and the bottom, which is the open mouth, goes up, +the heated air pouring out. The weight used for this purpose on the +"Little Nassau" was a bag of sand. +</p> +<p> +On the particular day I have in mind there was an unusually large crowd +in attendance, and the police had their hands full keeping the people +back. There was much pushing and shoving, and the ropes were bulging +with the pressure of men, women and children. As I came down from the +dressing room I noticed two girls outside the ropes, of about fourteen +and sixteen, and inside the rope a youngster of eight or nine. They +were holding him by the hands, and he was struggling, excitedly and +half in laughter, to get away from them. I thought nothing of it at +the time—just a bit of childish play, no more; and it was only in the +light of after events that the scene was impressed vividly upon me. +</p> +<p> +"Keep them cleared out, George!" I called to my assistant. "We don't +want any accidents." +</p> +<p> +"Ay," he answered, "that I will, Charley." +</p> +<p> +George Guppy had helped me in no end of ascents, and because of his +coolness, judgment and absolute reliability I had come to trust my life +in his hands with the utmost confidence. His business it was to overlook +the inflating of the balloon, and to see that everything about the +parachute was in perfect working order. +</p> +<p> +The "Little Nassau" was already filled and straining at the guys. The +parachute lay flat along the ground and beyond it the trapeze. I tossed +aside my overcoat, took my position, and gave the signal to let go. As +you know, the first rush upward from the earth is very sudden, and this +time the balloon, when it first caught the wind, heeled violently over +and was longer than usual in righting. I looked down at the old familiar +sight of the world rushing away from me. And there were the thousands of +people, every face silently upturned. And the silence startled me, for, +as crowds went, this was the time for them to catch their first breath +and send up a roar of applause. But there was no hand-clapping, +whistling, cheering—only silence. And instead, clear as a bell and +distinct, without the slightest shake or quaver, came George's voice +through the megaphone: +</p> +<p> +"Ride her down, Charley! Ride the balloon down!" +</p> +<p> +What had happened? I waved my hand to show that I had heard, and began +to think. Had something gone wrong with the parachute? Why should I ride +the balloon down instead of making the jump which thousands were waiting +to see? What was the matter? And as I puzzled, I received another start. +The earth was a thousand feet beneath, and yet I heard a child crying +softly, and seemingly very close to hand. And though the "Little Nassau" +was shooting skyward like a rocket, the crying did not grow fainter and +fainter and die away. I confess I was almost on the edge of a funk, +when, unconsciously following up the noise with my eyes, I looked above +me and saw a boy astride the sandbag which was to bring the "Little +Nassau" to earth. And it was the same little boy I had seen struggling +with the two girls—his sisters, as I afterward learned. +</p> +<p> +There he was, astride the sandbag and holding on to the rope for +dear life. A puff of wind heeled the balloon slightly, and he swung out +into space for ten or a dozen feet, and back again, fetching up against +the tight canvas with a thud which even shook me, thirty feet or more +beneath. I thought to see him dashed loose, but he clung on and +whimpered. They told me afterward, how, at the moment they were casting +off the balloon, the little fellow had torn away from his sisters, +ducked under the rope, and deliberately jumped astride the sandbag. It +has always been a wonder to me that he was not jerked off in the first +rush. +</p> +<p> +Well, I felt sick all over as I looked at him there, and I understood +why the balloon had taken longer to right itself, and why George had +called after me to ride her down. Should I cut loose with the parachute, +the bag would at once turn upside down, empty itself, and begin its +swift descent. The only hope lay in my riding her down and in the boy +holding on. There was no possible way for me to reach him. No man could +climb the slim, closed parachute; and even if a man could, and made the +mouth of the balloon, what could he do? Straight out, and fifteen feet +away, trailed the boy on his ticklish perch, and those fifteen feet were +empty space. +</p> +<p> +I thought far more quickly than it takes to tell all this, and realized +on the instant that the boy's attention must be called away from his +terrible danger. Exercising all the self-control I possessed, and +striving to make myself very calm, I said cheerily: +</p> +<p> +"Hello, up there, who are you!" +</p> +<p> +He looked down at me, choking back his tears and brightening up, but +just then the balloon ran into a cross-current, turned half around and +lay over. This set him swinging back and forth, and he fetched the +canvas another bump. Then he began to cry again. +</p> +<p> +"Isn't it great?" I asked heartily, as though it was the most enjoyable +thing in the world; and, without waiting for him to answer: "What's your +name?" +</p> +<p> +"Tommy Dermott," he answered. +</p> +<p> +"Glad to make your acquaintance, Tommy Dermott," I went on. "But I'd +like to know who said you could ride up with me?" +</p> +<p> +He laughed and said he just thought he'd ride up for the fun of it. And +so we went on, I sick with fear for him, and cudgeling my brains to keep +up the conversation. I knew that it was all I could do, and that his +life depended upon my ability to keep his mind off his danger. I pointed +out to him the great panorama spreading away to the horizon and four +thousand feet beneath us. There lay San Francisco Bay like a great +placid lake, the haze of smoke over the city, the Golden Gate, the ocean +fog-rim beyond, and Mount Tamalpais over all, clear-cut and sharp +against the sky. Directly below us I could see a buggy, apparently +crawling, but I knew from experience that the men in it were lashing the +horses on our trail. +</p> +<p> +But he grew tired of looking around, and I could see he was beginning to +get frightened. +</p> +<p> +"How would you like to go in for the business?" I asked. +</p> +<p> +He cheered up at once and asked "Do you get good pay?" +</p> +<p> +But the "Little Nassau," beginning to cool, had started on its long +descent, and ran into counter currents which bobbed it roughly about. +This swung the boy around pretty lively, smashing him into the bag once +quite severely. His lip began to tremble at this, and he was crying +again. I tried to joke and laugh, but it was no use. His pluck was +oozing out, and at any moment I was prepared to see him go shooting +past me. +</p> +<p> +I was in despair. Then, suddenly, I remembered how one fright could +destroy another fright, and I frowned up at him and shouted sternly: +</p> +<p> +"You just hold on to that rope! If you don't I'll thrash you within an +inch of your life when I get you down on the ground! Understand?" +</p> +<p> +"Ye-ye-yes, sir," he whimpered, and I saw that the thing had worked. I +was nearer to him than the earth, and he was more afraid of me than of +falling. +</p> +<p> +"'Why, you've got a snap up there on that soft bag," I rattled on. +</p> +<p> +"Yes," I assured him, "this bar down here is hard and narrow, and it +hurts to sit on it." +</p> +<p> +Then a thought struck him, and he forgot all about his aching fingers. +</p> +<p> +"When are you going to jump?" he asked. "That's what I came up to see." +</p> +<p> +I was sorry to disappoint him, but I wasn't going to make any jump. +</p> +<p> +But he objected to that. "It said so in the papers," he said. +</p> +<p> +"I don't care," I answered. "I'm feeling sort of lazy today, and I'm +just going to ride down the balloon. It's my balloon and I guess I can +do as I please about it. And, anyway, we're almost down now." +</p> +<p> +And we were, too, and sinking fast. And right there and then that +youngster began to argue with me as to whether it was right for me to +disappoint the people, and to urge their claims upon me. And it was +with a happy heart that I held up my end of it, justifying myself in a +thousand different ways, till we shot over a grove of eucalyptus trees +and dipped to meet the earth. +</p> +<p> +"Hold on tight!" I shouted, swinging down from the trapeze by my hands +in order to make a landing on my feet. +</p> +<p> +We skimmed past a barn, missed a mesh of clothesline, frightened +the barnyard chickens into a panic, and rose up again clear over a +haystack—all this almost quicker than it takes to tell. Then we came +down in an orchard, and when my feet had touched the ground I fetched up +the balloon by a couple of turns of the trapeze around an apple tree. +</p> +<p> +I have had my balloon catch fire in mid air, I have hung on the cornice +of a ten-story house, I have dropped like a bullet for six hundred feet +when a parachute was slow in opening; but never have I felt so weak and +faint and sick as when I staggered toward the unscratched boy and +gripped him by the arm. +</p> +<p> +"Tommy Dermott," I said, when I had got my nerves back somewhat. "Tommy +Dermott, I'm going to lay you across my knee and give you the greatest +thrashing a boy ever got in the world's history." +</p> +<p> +"No, you don't," he answered, squirming around. "You said you wouldn't +if I held on tight." +</p> +<p> +"That's all right," I said, "but I'm going to, just the same. The +fellows who go up in balloons are bad, unprincipled men, and I'm going +to give you a lesson right now to make you stay away from them, and from +balloons, too." +</p> +<p> +And then I gave it to him, and if it wasn't the greatest thrashing in +the world, it was the greatest he ever got. +</p> +<p> +But it took all the grit out of me, left me nerve-broken, that +experience. I canceled the engagement with the street railway company, +and later on went in for gas. Gas is much the safer, anyway. +</p> +<a name="h2H_4_0010" id="h2H_4_0010"><!-- H2 anchor --></a> + +<div style="height: 4em;"><br /><br /><br /><br /></div> + +<h2> + BALD-FACE +</h2> +<p> +"Talkin' of bear——" +</p> +<p> +The Klondike King paused meditatively, and the group on the hotel porch +hitched their chairs up closer. +</p> +<p> +"Talkin' of bear," he went on, "now up in the Northern Country there are +various kinds. On the Little Pelly, for instance, they come down that +thick in the summer to feed on the salmon that you can't get an Indian +or white man to go nigher than a day's journey to the place. And up +in the Rampart Mountains there's a curious kind of bear called the +'side-hill grizzly.' That's because he's traveled on the side-hills ever +since the Flood, and the two legs on the down-hill side are twice as +long as the two on the up-hill. And he can out-run a jack rabbit when he +gets steam up. Dangerous? Catch you! Bless you, no. All a man has to do +is to circle down the hill and run the other way. You see, that throws +mister bear's long legs up the hill and the short ones down. Yes, he's a +mighty peculiar creature, but that wasn't what I started in to tell +about. +</p> +<p> +"They've got another kind of bear up on the Yukon, and his legs are all +right, too. He's called the bald-face grizzly, and he's jest as big as +he is bad. It's only the fool white men that think of hunting him. +Indians got too much sense. But there's one thing about the bald-face +that a man has to learn: he never gives the trail to mortal creature. +If you see him comin', and you value your skin, you get out of his path. +If you don't, there's bound to be trouble. If the bald-face met Jehovah +Himself on the trail, he'd not give him an inch. O, he's a selfish +beggar, take my word for it. But I had to learn all this. Didn't know +anything about bear when I went into the country, exceptin' when I was a +youngster I'd seen a heap of cinnamons and that little black kind. And +they was nothin' to be scared at. +</p> +<p> +"Well, after we'd got settled down on our claim, I went up on the hill +lookin' for a likely piece of birch to make an ax-handle out of. But +it was pretty hard to find the right kind, and I kept a-goin' and kept +a-goin' for nigh on two hours. Wasn't in no hurry to make my choice, you +see, for I was headin' down to the Forks, where I was goin' to borrow a +log-bit from Old Joe Gee. When I started, I'd put a couple of sour-dough +biscuits and some sowbelly in my pocket in case I might get hungry. +And I'm tellin' you that lunch came in right handy before I was done +with it. +</p> +<p> +"Bime-by I hit upon the likeliest little birch saplin', right in the +middle of a clump of jack pine. Jest as I raised my hand-ax I happened +to cast my eyes down the hill. There was a big bear comin' up, swingin' +along on all fours, right in my direction. It was a bald-face, but +little I knew then about such kind. +</p> +<p> +"'Jest watch me scare him,' I says to myself, and I stayed out of sight +in the trees. +</p> +<p> +"Well, I waited till he was about a hundred feet off, then out I runs +into the open. +</p> +<p> +"'Oof! oof!' I hollered at him, expectin' to see him turn tail like +chain lightning. +</p> +<p> +"Turn tail? He jest throwed up his head for one good look and came a +comin'. +</p> +<p> +"'Oof! oof!' I hollered, louder'n ever. But he jest came a comin'. +</p> +<p> +"'Consarn you!' I says to myself, gettin' mad. 'I'll make you jump the +trail.' +</p> +<p> +"So I grabs my hat, and wavin' and hollerin' starts down the trail to +meet him. A big sugar pine had gone down in a windfall and lay about +breast high. I stops jest behind it, old bald-face comin' all the time. +It was jest then that fear came to me. I yelled like a Comanche Indian +as he raised up to come over the log, and fired my hat full in his face. +Then I lit out. +</p> +<p> +"Say! I rounded the end of that log and put down the hill at a +two-twenty clip, old bald-face reachin' for me at every jump. At the +bottom was a broad, open flat, quarter of a mile to timber and full of +niggerheads. I knew if ever I slipped I was a goner, but I hit only the +high places till you couldn't a-seen my trail for smoke. And the old +devil snortin' along hot after me. Midway across, he reached for me, +jest strikin' the heel of my moccasin with his claw. Tell you I was +doin' some tall thinkin' jest then. I knew he had the wind of me and I +could never make the brush, so I pulled my little lunch out of my pocket +and dropped it on the fly. +</p> +<p> +"Never looked back till I hit the timber, and then he was mouthing the +biscuits in a way which wasn't nice to see, considerin' how close he'd +been to me. I never slacked up. No, sir! Jest kept hittin' the trail for +all there was in me. But jest as I came around a bend, heelin' it right +lively I tell you, what'd I see in middle of the trail before me, and +comin' my way, but another bald-face! +</p> +<p> +"'Whoof!' he says when he spotted me, and he came a-runnin.' +</p> +<p> +"Instanter I was about and hittin' the back trail twice as fast as I'd +come. The way this one was puffin' after me, I'd clean forgot all about +the other bald-face. First thing I knew I seen him mosying along kind of +easy, wonderin' most likely what had become of me, and if I tasted as +good as my lunch. Say! when he seen me he looked real pleased. And then +he came a-jumpin' for me. +</p> +<p> +"'Whoof!' he says. +</p> +<p> +"'Whoof!' says the one behind me. +</p> +<p> +"Bang I goes, slap off the trail sideways, a-plungin' and a-clawin' +through the brush like a wild man. By this time I was clean crazed; +thought the whole country was full of bald-faces. Next thing I +knows—whop, I comes up against something in a tangle of wild blackberry +bushes. Then that something hits me a slap and closes in on me. Another +bald-face! And then and there I knew I was gone for sure. But I made up +to die game, and of all the rampin' and roarin' and rippin' and tearin' +you ever see, that was the worst. +</p> +<p> +"'My God! O my wife!' it says. And I looked and it was a man I was +hammering into kingdom come. +</p> +<p> +"'Thought you was a bear,' says I. +</p> +<p> +"He kind of caught his breath and looked at me. Then he says, 'Same +here.' +</p> +<p> +"Seemed as though he'd been chased by a bald-face, too, and had hid in +the blackberries. So that's how we mistook each other. +</p> +<p> +"But by that time the racket on the trail was something terrible, and we +didn't wait to explain matters. That afternoon we got Joe Gee and some +rifles and came back loaded for bear. Mebbe you won't believe me, but +when we got to the spot, there was the two bald-faces lyin' dead. You +see, when I jumped out, they came together, and each refused to give +trail to the other. So they fought it out. Talkin' of bear. As I was +sayin'——" +</p> +<a name="h2H_4_0011" id="h2H_4_0011"><!-- H2 anchor --></a> + +<div style="height: 4em;"><br /><br /><br /><br /></div> + +<h2> + IN YEDDO BAY +</h2> +<p> +Somewhere along Theater Street he had lost it. He remembered being +hustled somewhat roughly on the bridge over one of the canals that +cross that busy thoroughfare. Possibly some slant-eyed, light-fingered +pickpocket was even then enjoying the fifty-odd yen his purse had +contained. And then again, he thought, he might have lost it himself, +just lost it carelessly. +</p> +<p> +Hopelessly, and for the twentieth time, he searched in all his pockets +for the missing purse. It was not there. His hand lingered in his +empty hip-pocket, and he woefully regarded the voluble and vociferous +restaurant-keeper, who insanely clamored: "Twenty-five sen! You pay now! +Twenty-five sen!" +</p> +<p> +"But my purse!" the boy said. "I tell you I've lost it somewhere." +</p> +<p> +Whereupon the restaurant-keeper lifted his arms indignantly and +shrieked: "Twenty-five sen! Twenty-five sen! You pay now!" +</p> +<p> +Quite a crowd had collected, and it was growing embarrassing for Alf +Davis. +</p> +<p> +It was so ridiculous and petty, Alf thought. Such a disturbance about +nothing! And, decidedly, he must be doing something. Thoughts of diving +wildly through that forest of legs, and of striking out at whomsoever +opposed him, flashed through his mind; but, as though divining his +purpose, one of the waiters, a short and chunky chap with an +evil-looking cast in one eye, seized him by the arm. +</p> +<p> +"You pay now! You pay now! Twenty-five sen!" yelled the proprietor, +hoarse with rage. +</p> +<p> +Alf was red in the face, too, from mortification; but he resolutely set +out on another exploration. He had given up the purse, pinning his last +hope on stray coins. In the little change-pocket of his coat he found +a ten-sen piece and five-copper sen; and remembering having recently +missed a ten-sen piece, he cut the seam of the pocket and resurrected +the coin from the depths of the lining. Twenty-five sen he held in his +hand, the sum required to pay for the supper he had eaten. He turned +them over to the proprietor, who counted them, grew suddenly calm, and +bowed obsequiously—in fact, the whole crowd bowed obsequiously and +melted away. +</p> +<p> +Alf Davis was a young sailor, just turned sixteen, on board the <i>Annie +Mine</i>, an American sailing-schooner, which had run into Yokohama to +ship its season's catch of skins to London. And in this, his second trip +ashore, he was beginning to snatch his first puzzling glimpses of the +Oriental mind. He laughed when the bowing and kotowing was over, and +turned on his heel to confront another problem. How was he to get aboard +ship? It was eleven o'clock at night, and there would be no ship's boats +ashore, while the outlook for hiring a native boatman, with nothing but +empty pockets to draw upon, was not particularly inviting. +</p> +<p> +Keeping a sharp lookout for shipmates, he went down to the pier. At +Yokohama there are no long lines of wharves. The shipping lies out at +anchor, enabling a few hundred of the short-legged people to make a +livelihood by carrying passengers to and from the shore. +</p> +<p> +A dozen sampan men and boys hailed Alf and offered their services. He +selected the most favorable-looking one, an old and beneficent-appearing +man with a withered leg. Alf stepped into his sampan and sat down. +It was quite dark and he could not see what the old fellow was doing, +though he evidently was doing nothing about shoving off and getting +under way. At last he limped over and peered into Alf's face. +</p> +<p> +"Ten sen," he said. +</p> +<p> +"Yes, I know, ten sen," Alf answered carelessly. "But hurry up. American +schooner." +</p> +<p> +"Ten sen. You pay now," the old fellow insisted. +</p> +<p> +Alf felt himself grow hot all over at the hateful words "pay now." "You +take me to American schooner; then I pay," he said. +</p> +<p> +But the man stood up patiently before him, held out his hand, and said, +"Ten sen. You pay now." +</p> +<p> +Alf tried to explain. He had no money. He had lost his purse. But he +would pay. As soon as he got aboard the American schooner, then he would +pay. No; he would not even go aboard the American schooner. He would +call to his shipmates, and they would give the sampan man the ten sen +first. After that he would go aboard. So it was all right, of course. +</p> +<p> +To all of which the beneficent-appearing old man replied: "You pay now. +Ten sen." And, to make matters worse, the other sampan men squatted on +the pier steps, listening. +</p> +<p> +Alf, chagrined and angry, stood up to step ashore. But the old fellow +laid a detaining hand on his sleeve. "You give shirt now. I take you +'Merican schooner," he proposed. +</p> +<p> +Then it was that all of Alf's American independence flamed up in his +breast. The Anglo-Saxon has a born dislike of being imposed upon, and +to Alf this was sheer robbery! Ten sen was equivalent to six American +cents, while his shirt, which was of good quality and was new, had cost +him two dollars. +</p> +<p> +He turned his back on the man without a word, and went out to the end of +the pier, the crowd, laughing with great gusto, following at his heels. +The majority of them were heavy-set, muscular fellows, and the July +night being one of sweltering heat, they were clad in the least possible +raiment. The water-people of any race are rough and turbulent, and it +struck Alf that to be out at midnight on a pier-end with such a crowd of +wharfmen, in a big Japanese city, was not as safe as it might be. +</p> +<p> +One burly fellow, with a shock of black hair and ferocious eyes, came +up. The rest shoved in after him to take part in the discussion. +</p> +<p> +"Give me shoes," the man said. "Give me shoes now. I take you 'Merican +schooner." +</p> +<p> +Alf shook his head, whereat the crowd clamored that he accept the +proposal. Now the Anglo-Saxon is so constituted that to browbeat or +bully him is the last way under the sun of getting him to do any certain +thing. He will dare willingly, but he will not permit himself to be +driven. So this attempt of the boatmen to force Alf only aroused all the +dogged stubbornness of his race. The same qualities were in him that are +in men who lead forlorn hopes; and there, under the stars, on the lonely +pier, encircled by the jostling and shouldering gang, he resolved that +he would die rather than submit to the indignity of being robbed of a +single stitch of clothing. Not value, but principle, was at stake. +</p> +<p> +Then somebody thrust roughly against him from behind. He whirled about +with flashing eyes, and the circle involuntarily gave ground. But the +crowd was growing more boisterous. Each and every article of clothing he +had on was demanded by one or another, and these demands were shouted +simultaneously at the tops of very healthy lungs. +</p> +<p> +Alf had long since ceased to say anything, but he knew that the +situation was getting dangerous, and that the only thing left to him +was to get away. His face was set doggedly, his eyes glinted like points +of steel, and his body was firmly and confidently poised. This air of +determination sufficiently impressed the boatmen to make them give way +before him when he started to walk toward the shore-end of the pier. But +they trooped along beside him and behind him, shouting and laughing more +noisily than ever. One of the youngsters, about Alf's size and build, +impudently snatched his cap from his head; but before he could put it on +his own head, Alf struck out from the shoulder, and sent the fellow +rolling on the stones. +</p> +<p> +The cap flew out of his hand and disappeared among the many legs. Alf +did some quick thinking; his sailor pride would not permit him to leave +the cap in their hands. He followed in the direction it had sped, and +soon found it under the bare foot of a stalwart fellow, who kept his +weight stolidly upon it. Alf tried to get the cap out by a sudden jerk, +but failed. He shoved against the man's leg, but the man only grunted. +It was challenge direct, and Alf accepted it. Like a flash one leg was +behind the man and Alf had thrust strongly with his shoulder against the +fellow's chest. Nothing could save the man from the fierce vigorousness +of the trick, and he was hurled over and backward. +</p> +<p> +Next, the cap was on Alf's head and his fists were up before him. Then +he whirled about to prevent attack from behind, and all those in that +quarter fled precipitately. This was what he wanted. None remained +between him and the shore end. The pier was narrow. Facing them and +threatening with his fist those who attempted to pass him on either +side, he continued his retreat. It was exciting work, walking backward +and at the same time checking that surging mass of men. But the +dark-skinned peoples, the world over, have learned to respect the white +man's fist; and it was the battles fought by many sailors, more than his +own warlike front, that gave Alf the victory. +</p> +<p> +Where the pier adjoins the shore was the station of the harbor police, +and Alf backed into the electric-lighted office, very much to the +amusement of the dapper lieutenant in charge. The sampan men, grown +quiet and orderly, clustered like flies by the open door, through which +they could see and hear what passed. +</p> +<p> +Alf explained his difficulty in few words, and demanded, as the +privilege of a stranger in a strange land, that the lieutenant put him +aboard in the police-boat. The lieutenant, in turn, who knew all the +"rules and regulations" by heart, explained that the harbor police were +not ferrymen, and that the police-boats had other functions to perform +than that of transporting belated and penniless sailor-men to their +ships. He also said he knew the sampan men to be natural-born robbers, +but that so long as they robbed within the law he was powerless. It +was their right to collect fares in advance, and who was he to command +them to take a passenger and collect fare at the journey's end? Alf +acknowledged the justice of his remarks, but suggested that while he +could not command he might persuade. The lieutenant was willing to +oblige, and went to the door, from where he delivered a speech to the +crowd. But they, too, knew their rights, and, when the officer had +finished, shouted in chorus their abominable "Ten sen! You pay now! +You pay now!" +</p> +<p> +"You see, I can do nothing," said the lieutenant, who, by the way, spoke +perfect English. "But I have warned them not to harm or molest you, so +you will be safe, at least. The night is warm and half over. Lie down +somewhere and go to sleep. I would permit you to sleep here in the +office, were it not against the rules and regulations." +</p> +<p> +Alf thanked him for his kindness and courtesy; but the sampan men had +aroused all his pride of race and doggedness, and the problem could not +be solved that way. To sleep out the night on the stones was an +acknowledgment of defeat. +</p> +<p> +"The sampan men refuse to take me out?" +</p> +<p> +The lieutenant nodded. +</p> +<p> +"And you refuse to take me out?" +</p> +<p> +Again the lieutenant nodded. +</p> +<p> +"Well, then, it's not in the rules and regulations that you can prevent +my taking myself out?" +</p> +<p> +The lieutenant was perplexed. "There is no boat," he said. +</p> +<p> +"That's not the question," Alf proclaimed hotly. "If I take myself out, +everybody's satisfied and no harm done?" +</p> +<p> +"Yes; what you say is true," persisted the puzzled lieutenant. "But you +cannot take yourself out." +</p> +<p> +"You just watch me," was the retort. +</p> +<p> +Down went Alf's cap on the office floor. Right and left he kicked off +his low-cut shoes. Trousers and shirt followed. +</p> +<p> +"Remember," he said in ringing tones, "I, as a citizen of the United +States, shall hold you, the city of Yokohama, and the government of +Japan responsible for those clothes. Good night." +</p> +<p> +He plunged through the doorway, scattering the astounded boatmen to +either side, and ran out on the pier. But they quickly recovered and ran +after him, shouting with glee at the new phase the situation had taken +on. It was a night long remembered among the water-folk of Yokohama +town. Straight to the end Alf ran, and, without pause, dived off cleanly +and neatly into the water. He struck out with a lusty, single-overhand +stroke till curiosity prompted him to halt for a moment. Out of the +darkness, from where the pier should be, voices were calling to him. +</p> +<p> +He turned on his back, floated, and listened. +</p> +<p> +"All right! All right!" he could distinguish from the babel. "No pay +now; pay bime by! Come back! Come back now; pay bime by!" +</p> +<p> +"No, thank you," he called back. "No pay at all. Good night." +</p> +<p> +Then he faced about in order to locate the <i>Annie Mine</i>. She was +fully a mile away, and in the darkness it was no easy task to get her +bearings. First, he settled upon a blaze of lights which he knew nothing +but a man-of-war could make. That must be the United States war-ship +<i>Lancaster</i>. Somewhere to the left and beyond should be the +<i>Annie Mine.</i> But to the left he made out three lights close +together. That could not be the schooner. For the moment he was +confused. He rolled over on his back and shut his eyes, striving to +construct a mental picture of the harbor as he had seen it in daytime. +With a snort of satisfaction he rolled back again. The three lights +evidently belonged to the big English tramp steamer. Therefore the +schooner must lie somewhere between the three lights and the +<i>Lancaster</i>. He gazed long and steadily, and there, very dim and +low, but at the point he expected, burned a single light—the +anchor-light of the <i>Annie Mine</i>. +</p> +<p> +And it was a fine swim under the starshine. The air was warm as the +water, and the water as warm as tepid milk. The good salt taste of it +was in his mouth, the tingling of it along his limbs; and the steady +beat of his heart, heavy and strong, made him glad for living. +</p> +<p> +But beyond being glorious the swim was uneventful. On the right hand he +passed the many-lighted <i>Lancaster</i>, on the left hand the English +tramp, and ere long the <i>Annie Mine</i> loomed large above him. He +grasped the hanging rope-ladder and drew himself noiselessly on deck. +There was no one in sight. He saw a light in the galley, and knew that +the captain's son, who kept the lonely anchor-watch, was making coffee. +Alf went forward to the forecastle. The men were snoring in their bunks, +and in that confined space the heat seemed to him insufferable. So he +put on a thin cotton shirt and a pair of dungaree trousers, tucked +blanket and pillow under his arm, and went up on deck and out on the +fore-castle-head. +</p> +<p> +Hardly had he begun to doze when he was roused by a boat coming +alongside and hailing the anchor-watch. It was the police-boat, and to +Alf it was given to enjoy the excited conversation that ensued. Yes, the +captain's son recognized the clothes. They belonged to Alf Davis, one of +the seamen. What had happened? No; Alf Davis had not come aboard. He +was ashore. He was not ashore? Then he must be drowned. Here both the +lieutenant and the captain's son talked at the same time, and Alf could +make out nothing. Then he heard them come forward and rouse out the +crew. The crew grumbled sleepily and said that Alf Davis was not in the +forecastle; whereupon the captain's son waxed indignant at the Yokohama +police and their ways, and the lieutenant quoted rules and regulations +in despairing accents. +</p> +<p> +Alf rose up from the forecastle-head and extended his hand, saying: +</p> +<p> +"I guess I'll take those clothes. Thank you for bringing them aboard so +promptly." +</p> +<p> +"I don't see why he couldn't have brought you aboard inside of them," +said the captain's son. +</p> +<p> +And the police lieutenant said nothing, though he turned the clothes +over somewhat sheepishly to their rightful owner. +</p> +<p> +The next day, when Alf started to go ashore, he found himself surrounded +by shouting and gesticulating, though very respectful, sampan men, all +extraordinarily anxious to have him for a passenger. Nor did the one +he selected say, "You pay now," when he entered his boat. "When Alf +prepared to step out on to the pier, he offered the man the customary +ten sen. But the man drew himself up and shook his head. +</p> +<p> +"You all right," he said. "You no pay. You never no pay. You bully boy +and all right." +</p> +<p> +And for the rest of the <i>Annie Mine's</i> stay in port, the sampan men +refused money at Alf Davis's hand. Out of admiration for his pluck and +independence, they had given him the freedom of the harbor. +</p> +<a name="h2H_4_0012" id="h2H_4_0012"><!-- H2 anchor --></a> + +<div style="height: 4em;"><br /><br /><br /><br /></div> + +<h2> + WHOSE BUSINESS IS TO LIVE +</h2> +<p> +Stanton Davies and Jim Wemple ceased from their talk to listen to an +increase of uproar in the street. A volley of stones thrummed and boomed +the wire mosquito nettings that protected the windows. It was a hot +night, and the sweat of the heat stood on their faces as they listened. +Arose the incoherent clamor of the mob, punctuated by individual cries +in Mexican-Spanish. Least terrible among the obscene threats were: +"Death to the Gringos!" "Kill the American pigs!" "Drown the American +dogs in the sea!" +</p> +<p> +Stanton Davies and Jim Wemple shrugged their shoulders patiently to each +other, and resumed their conversation, talking louder in order to make +themselves heard above the uproar. +</p> +<p> +"The question is <i>how</i>," Wemple said. "It's forty-seven miles to +Panuco, by river——" +</p> +<p> +"And the land's impossible, with Zaragoza's and Villa's men on the loot +and maybe fraternizing," Davies agreed. +</p> +<p> +Wemple nodded and continued: "And she's at the East Coast Magnolia, two +miles beyond, if she isn't back at the hunting camp. We've got to get +her——" +</p> +<p> +"We've played pretty square in this matter, Wemple," Davies said. "And +we might as well speak up and acknowledge what each of us knows the +other knows. You want her. I want her." +</p> +<p> +Wemple lighted a cigarette and nodded. +</p> +<p> +"And now's the time when it's up to us to make a show as if we didn't +want her and that all we want is just to save her and get her down +here." +</p> +<p> +"And a truce until we do save her—I get you," Wempel affirmed. +</p> +<p> +"A truce until we get her safe and sound back here in Tampico, or aboard +a battleship. After that? ..." +</p> +<p> +Both men shrugged shoulders and beamed on each other as their hands met +in ratification. +</p> +<p> +Fresh volleys of stones thrummed against the wire-screened windows; a +boy's voice rose shrilly above the clamor, proclaiming death to the +Gringos; and the house reverberated to the heavy crash of some battering +ram against the street-door downstairs. Both men, snatching up automatic +rifles, ran down to where their fire could command the threatened door. +</p> +<p> +"If they break in we've got to let them have it," Wemple said. +</p> +<p> +Davies nodded quiet agreement, then inconsistently burst out with a +lurid string of oaths. +</p> +<p> +"To think of it!" he explained his wrath. "One out of three of those +curs outside has worked for you or me—lean-bellied, barefooted, +poverty-stricken, glad for ten centavos a day if they could only get +work. And we've given them steady jobs and a hundred and fifty centavos +a a day, and here they are yelling for our blood." +</p> +<p> +"Only the half breeds," Davies corrected. +</p> +<p> +"You know what I mean," Wemple replied. "The only peons we've lost are +those that have been run off or shot." +</p> +<p> +The attack on the door ceasing, they returned upstairs. Half a dozen +scattered shots from farther along the street seemed to draw away the +mob, for the neighborhood became comparatively quiet. +</p> +<p> +A whistle came to them through the open windows, and a man's voice +calling: +</p> +<p> +"Wemple! Open the door! It's Habert! Want to talk to you!" +</p> +<p> +Wemple went down, returning in several minutes with a tidily-paunched, +well-built, gray-haired American of fifty. He shook hands with Davies +and flung himself into a chair, breathing heavily. He did not relinquish +his clutch on the Colt's 44 automatic pistol, although he immediately +addressed himself to the task of fishing a filled clip of cartridges +from the pocket of his linen coat. He had arrived hatless and +breathless, and the blood from a stone-cut on the cheek oozed down his +face. He, too, in a fit of anger, springing to his feet when he had +changed clips in his pistol, burst out with mouth-filling profanity. +</p> +<p> +"They had an American flag in the dirt, stamping and spitting on it. And +they told me to spit on it." +</p> +<p> +Wemple and Davies regarded him with silent interrogation. +</p> +<p> +"Oh, I know what you're wondering!" he flared out. "Would I a-spit on it +in the pinch? That's what's eating you. I'll answer. Straight out, brass +tacks, I WOULD. Put that in your pipe and smoke it." +</p> +<p> +He paused to help himself to a cigar from the box on the table and to +light it with a steady and defiant hand. +</p> +<p> +"Hell!—I guess this neck of the woods knows Anthony Habert, and you can +bank on it that it's never located his yellow streak. Sure, in the +pinch, I'd spit on Old Glory. What the hell d'ye think I'm going on the +streets for a night like this? Didn't I skin out of the Southern Hotel +half an hour ago, where there are forty buck Americans, not counting +their women, and all armed? That was safety. What d'ye think I came here +for?—to rescue you?" +</p> +<p> +His indignation lumped his throat into silence, and he seemed shaken as +with an apoplexy. +</p> +<p> +"Spit it out," Davies commanded dryly. +</p> +<p> +"I'll tell you," Habert exploded. "It's Billy Boy. Fifty miles up +country and twenty-thousand throat-cutting federals and rebels between +him and me. D'ye know what that boy'd do, if he was here in Tampico and +I was fifty miles up the Panuco? Well, I know. And I'm going to do the +same—go and get him." +</p> +<p> +"We're figuring on going up," Wemple assured him. +</p> +<p> +"And that's why I headed here—Miss Drexel, of course?" +</p> +<p> +Both men acquiesced and smiled. It was a time when men dared speak of +matters which at other times tabooed speech. +</p> +<p> +"Then the thing's to get started," Habert exclaimed, looking at his +watch. "It's midnight now. We've got to get to the river and get a +boat—" +</p> +<p> +But the clamor of the returning mob came through the windows in answer. +</p> +<p> +Davies was about to speak, when the telephone rang, and Wemple sprang to +the instrument. +</p> +<p> +"It's Carson," he interjected, as he listened. "They haven't cut the +wires across the river yet.—Hello, Carson. Was it a break or a cut? ... +Bully for you.... Yes, move the mules across to the potrero beyond +Tamcochin.... Who's at the water station? ... Can you still 'phone +him? ... Tell him to keep the tanks full, and to shut off the main to +Arico. Also, to hang on till the last minute, and keep a horse saddled +to cut and run for it. Last thing before he runs, he must jerk out the +'phone.... Yes, yes, yes. Sure. No breeds. Leave full-blooded Indians in +charge. Gabriel is a good <i>hombre</i>. Heaven knows, once we're chased +out, when we'll get back.... You can't pinch down Jaramillo under +twenty-five hundred barrels. We've got storage for ten days. Gabriel'll +have to handle it. Keep it moving, if we have to run it into the +river——" +</p> +<p> +"Ask him if he has a launch," Habert broke in. +</p> +<p> +"He hasn't," was Wemple's answer. "The federals commandeered the last +one at noon." +</p> +<p> +"Say, Carson, how are you going to make your get-away?" Wemple queried. +</p> +<p> +The man to whom he talked was across the Panuco, on the south side, at +the tank farm. +</p> +<p> +"Says there isn't any get-away," Wemple vouchsafed to the other two. +"The federals are all over the shop, and he can't understand why they +haven't raided him hours ago." +</p> +<p> +"... Who? Campos? That skunk! ... all right.... Don't be worried if you +don't hear from me. I'm going up river with Davies and Habert.... Use +your judgment, and if you get a safe chance at Campos, pot him.... Oh, +a hot time over here. They're battering our doors now. Yes, by all +means ... Good-by, old man." +</p> +<p> +Wemple lighted a cigarette and wiped his forehead. +</p> +<p> +"You know Campos, José H. Campos," he +volunteered. "The dirty cur's stuck Carson up +for twenty thousand pesos. We had to pay, +or he'd have compelled half our peons to enlist +or set the wells on fire. And you know, +Davies, what we've done for him in past years. +Gratitude? Simple decency? Great Scott!" +</p> +<hr /> +<p> +It was the night of April twenty-first. On the morning of the +twenty-first the American marines and bluejackets had landed at Vera +Cruz and seized the custom house and the city. Immediately the news was +telegraphed, the vengeful Mexican mob had taken possession of the +streets of Tampico and expressed its disapproval of the action of the +United States by tearing down American flags and crying death to the +Americans. +</p> +<p> +There was nothing save its own spinelessness to deter the mob from +carrying out its threat. Had it battered down the doors of the Southern +Hotel, or of other hotels, or of residences such as Wemple's, a fight +would have started in which the thousands of federal soldiers in Tampico +would have joined their civilian compatriots in the laudable task of +decreasing the Gringo population of that particular portion of Mexico. +There should have been American warships to act as deterrents; but +through some inexplicable excess of delicacy, or strategy, or heaven +knows what, the United States, when it gave its orders to take Vera +Cruz, had very carefully withdrawn its warships from Tampico to the open +Gulf a dozen miles away. This order had come to Admiral Mayo by wireless +from Washington, and thrice he had demanded the order to be repeated, +ere, with tears in his eyes, he had turned his back on his countrymen +and countrywomen and steamed to sea. +</p> +<hr /> +<p> +"Of all asinine things, to leave us in the lurch this way!" Habert was +denouncing the powers that be of his country. "Mayo'd never have done +it. Mark my words, he had to take program from Washington. And here we +are, and our dear ones scattered for fifty miles back up country.... +Say, if I lose Billy Boy I'll never dare go home to face the wife.—Come +on. Let the three of us make a start. We can throw the fear of God into +any gang on the streets." +</p> +<p> +"Come on over and take a squint," Davies invited from where he stood, +somewhat back from the window, looking down into the street. +</p> +<p> +It was gorged with rioters, all haranguing, cursing, crying out death, +and urging one another to smash the doors, but each hanging back from +the death he knew waited behind those doors for the first of the rush. +</p> +<p> +"We can't break through a bunch like that, Habert," was Davies' comment. +</p> +<p> +"And if we die under their feet we'll be of little use to Billy Boy or +anybody else up the Panuco," Wemple added. "And if——" +</p> +<p> +A new movement of the mob caused him to break off. It was splitting +before a slow and silent advance of a file of white-clad men. +</p> +<p> +"Bluejackets—Mayo's come back for us after all," Habert muttered. +</p> +<p> +"Then we can get a navy launch," Davies said. +</p> +<p> +The bedlam of the mob died away, and, in silence, the sailors reached +the street door and knocked for admittance. All three went down to open +it, and to discover that the callers were not Americans but two German +lieutenants and half a dozen German marines. At sight of the Americans, +the rage of the mob rose again, and was quelled by the grounding of the +rifle butts of the marines. +</p> +<p> +"No, thank you," the senior lieutenant, in passable English, declined +the invitation to enter. He unconcernedly kept his cigar alive at such +times that the mob drowned his voice. "We are on the way back to our +ship. Our commander conferred with the English and Dutch commanders; but +they declined to cooperate, so our commander has undertaken the entire +responsibility. We have been the round of the hotels. They are to hold +their own until daybreak, when we'll take them off. We have given them +rockets such as these.—Take them. If your house is entered, hold your +own and send up a rocket from the roof. We can be here in force, in +forty-five minutes. Steam is up in all our launches, launch crews and +marines for shore duty are in the launches, and at the first rocket we +shall start." +</p> +<p> +"Since you are going aboard now, we should like to go with you," Davies +said, after having rendered due thanks. +</p> +<p> +The surprise and distaste on both lieutenants' faces was patent. +</p> +<p> +"Oh, no," Davies laughed. "We don't want refuge. We have friends fifty +miles up river, and we want to get to the river in order to go up after +them." +</p> +<p> +The pleasure on the officers' faces was immediate as they looked a +silent conference at each other. +</p> +<p> +"Since our commander has undertaken grave responsibility on a night like +this, may we do less than take minor responsibility?" queried the elder. +</p> +<p> +To this the younger heartily agreed. In a trice, upstairs and down +again, equipped with extra ammunition, extra pistols, and a +pocket-bulging supply of cigars, cigarettes and matches, the three +Americans were ready. Wemple called last instructions up the stairway to +imaginary occupants being left behind, ascertained that the spring lock +was on, and slammed the door. +</p> +<p> +The officers led, followed by the Americans, the rear brought up by the +six marines; and the spitting, howling mob, not daring to cast a stone, +gave way before them. +</p> +<hr /> +<p> +As they came alongside the gangway of the cruiser, they saw launches and +barges lying in strings to the boat-booms, filled with men, waiting for +the rocket signal from the beleaguered hotels. A gun thundered from +close at hand, up river, followed by the thunder of numerous guns and +the reports of many rifles fired very rapidly. +</p> +<p> +"Now what's the <i>Topila</i> whanging away at?" Habert complained, then +joined the others in gazing at the picture. +</p> +<p> +A searchlight, evidently emanating from the Mexican gunboat, was +stabbing the darkness to the middle of the river, where it played upon +the water. And across the water, the center of the moving circle of +light, flashed a long, lean speedboat. A shell burst in the air a +hundred feet astern of it. Somewhere, outside the light, other shells +were bursting in the water; for they saw the boat rocked by the waves +from the explosions. They could guess the whizzing of the rifle bullets. +</p> +<p> +But for only several minutes the spectacle lasted. Such was the speed of +the boat that it gained shelter behind the German, when the Mexican +gunboat was compelled to cease fire. The speedboat slowed down, turned +in a wide and heeling circle, and ranged up alongside the launch at the +gangway. +</p> +<p> +The lights from the gangway showed but one occupant, a tow-headed, +greasy-faced, blond youth of twenty, very lean, very calm, very much +satisfied with himself. +</p> +<p> +"If it ain't Peter Tonsburg!" Habert ejaculated, reaching out a hand to +shake. "Howdy, Peter, howdy. And where in hell are you hellbent for, +surging by the <i>Topila</i> in such scandalous fashion!" +</p> +<p> +Peter, a Texas-born Swede of immigrant parents, filled with the old +Texas traditions, greasily shook hands with Wemple and Davies as well, +saying "Howdy," as only the Texan born can say it. +</p> +<p> +"Me," he answered Habert. "I ain't hellbent nowhere exceptin' to get +away from the shell-fire. She's a caution, that <i>Topila</i>. Huh! but +I limbered 'em up some. I was goin' every inch of twenty-five. They was +like amateurs blazin' away at canvasback." +</p> +<p> +"Which <i>Chill</i> is it?" Wemple asked. +</p> +<p> +"<i>Chill II</i>," Peter answered. "It's all that's left. <i>Chill I</i> +a Greaser—you know 'm—Campos—commandeered this noon. I was runnin' +<i>Chill III</i> when they caught me at sundown. Made me come in under +their guns at the East Coast outfit, and fired me out on my neck. +</p> +<p> +"Now the boss'd gone over in this one to Tampico in the early evening, +and just about ten minutes ago I spots it landin' with a sousy bunch of +Federals at the East Coast, and swipes it back according. Where's the +boss? He ain't hurt, is he? Because I'm going after him." +</p> +<p> +"No, you're not, Peter," Davies said. "Mr. Frisbie is safe at the +Southern Hotel, all except a five-inch scalp wound from a brick that's +got him down with a splitting headache. He's safe, so you're going with +us, going to take us, I mean, up beyond Panuco town." +</p> +<p> +"Huh?—I can see myself," Peter retorted, wiping his greasy nose on a +wad of greasy cotton waste. "I got some cold. Besides, this +night-drivin' ain't good for my complexion." +</p> +<p> +"My boy's up there," Habert said. +</p> +<p> +"Well, he's bigger'n I am, and I reckon he can take care of himself." +</p> +<p> +"And there's a woman there—Miss Drexel," Davies said quietly. +</p> +<p> +"Who? Miss Drexel? Why didn't you say so at first!" Peter demanded +grievedly. He sighed and added, "Well, climb in an' make a start. Better +get your Dutch friends to donate me about twenty gallons of gasoline if +you want to get anywhere." +</p> +<hr /> +<p> +"Won't do you no good to lay low," Peter Tonsburg remarked, as, at full +speed, headed up river, the <i>Topila's</i> searchlight stabbed them. +"High or low, if one of them shells hits in the vicinity—<i>good +night</i>!" +</p> +<p> +Immediately thereafter the <i>Topila</i> erupted. The roar of the +<i>Chill's</i> exhaust nearly drowned the roar of the guns, but the +fragile hull of the craft was shaken and rocked by the bursting shells. +An occasional bullet thudded into or pinged off the <i>Chill</i>, and, +despite Peter's warning that, high or low, they were bound to get it if +it came to them, every man on board, including Peter, crouched, with +chest contracted by drawn-in shoulders, in an instinctive and purely +unconscious effort to lessen the area of body he presented as a target +or receptacle for flying fragments of steel. +</p> +<p> +The <i>Topila</i> was a federal gunboat. To complicate the affair, the +constitutionalists, gathered on the north shore in the siege of Tampico, +opened up on the speedboat with many rifles and a machine gun. +</p> +<p> +"Lord, I'm glad they're Mexicans, and not Americans," Habert observed, +after five mad minutes in which no damage had been received. "Mexicans +are born with guns in their hands, and they never learn to use them." +</p> +<p> +Nor was the <i>Chill</i> or any man aboard damaged when at last she +rounded the bend of river that shielded her from the searchlight. +</p> +<p> +"I'll have you in Panuco town in less'n three hours, ... if we don't hit +a log," Peter leaned back and shouted in Wemple's ear. "And if we do hit +driftwood, I'll have you in the swim quicker than that." +</p> +<p> +<i>Chill II</i> tore her way through the darkness, steered by the +tow-headed youth who knew every foot of the river and who guided his +course by the loom of the banks in the dim starlight. A smart breeze, +kicking up spiteful wavelets on the wider reaches, splashed them with +sheeted water as well as fine-flung spray. And, in the face of the +warmth of the tropic night, the wind, added to the speed of the boat, +chilled them through their wet clothes. +</p> +<p> +"Now I know why she was named the <i>Chill</i>," Habert observed betwixt +chattering teeth. +</p> +<p> +But conversation languished during the nearly three hours of drive +through the darkness. Once, by the exhaust, they knew that they passed +an unlighted launch bound down stream. And once, a glare of light, near +the south bank, as they passed through the Toreno field, aroused brief +debate as to whether it was the Toreno wells, or the bungalow on +Merrick's banana plantation that flared so fiercely. +</p> +<p> +At the end of an hour, Peter slowed down and ran in to the bank. +</p> +<p> +"I got a cache of gasoline here—ten gallons," he explained, "and it's +just as well to know it's here for the back trip." Without leaving the +boat, fishing arm-deep into the brush, he announced, "All hunky-dory." +He proceeded to oil the engine. "Huh!" he soliloquized for their +benefit. "I was just readin' a magazine yarn last night. 'Whose Business +Is to Die,' was its title. An' all I got to say is, 'The hell it is.' A +man's business is to live. Maybe you thought it was our business to die +when the <i>Topila</i> was pepper-in' us. But you was wrong. We're +alive, ain't we? We beat her to it. That's the game. Nobody's got any +business to die. I ain't never goin' to die, if I've got any say about +it." +</p> +<p> +He turned over the crank, and the roar and rush of the <i>Chill</i> put +an end to speech. +</p> +<p> +There was no need for Wemple or Davies to speak further in the affair +closest to their hearts. Their truce to love-making had been made as +binding as it was brief, and each rival honored the other with a firm +belief that he would commit no infraction of the truce. Afterward was +another matter. In the meantime they were one in the effort to get Beth +Drexel back to the safety of riotous Tampico or of a war vessel. +</p> +<p> +It was four o'clock when they passed by Panuco Town. Shouts and songs +told them that the federal detachment holding the place was celebrating +its indignation at the landing of American bluejackets in Vera Cruz. +Sentinels challenged the <i>Chill</i> from the shore and shot at random +at the noise of her in the darkness. +</p> +<p> +A mile beyond, where a lighted river steamer with steam up lay at the +north bank, they ran in at the Apshodel wells. The steamer was small, +and the nearly two hundred Americans—men, women, and children—crowded +her capacity. Blasphemous greetings of pure joy and geniality were +exchanged between the men, and Habert learned that the steamboat was +waiting for his Billy Boy, who, astride a horse, was rounding up +isolated drilling gangs who had not yet learned that the United States +had seized Vera Cruz and that all Mexico was boiling. +</p> +<p> +Habert climbed out to wait and to go down on the steamer, while the +three that remained on the <i>Chill</i>, having learned that Miss Drexel +was not with the refugees, headed for the Dutch Company on the south +shore. This was the big gusher, pinched down from one hundred and +eighty-five thousand daily barrels to the quantity the company +was able to handle. Mexico had no quarrel with Holland, so that the +superintendent, while up, with night guards out to prevent drunken +soldiers from firing his vast lakes of oil, was quite unemotional. Yes, +the last he had heard was that Miss Drexel and her brother were back at +the hunting lodge. No; he had not sent any warnings, and he doubted that +anybody else had. Not till ten o'clock the previous evening had he +learned of the landing at Vera Cruz. The Mexicans had turned nasty as +soon as they heard of it, and they had killed Miles Forman at the Empire +Wells, run off his labor, and looted the camp. Horses? No; he didn't +have horse or mule on the place. The federals had commandeered the last +animal weeks back. It was his belief, however, that there were a couple +of plugs at the lodge, too worthless even for the Mexicans to take. +</p> +<p> +"It's a hike," Davies said cheerfully. +</p> +<p> +"Six miles of it," Wemple agreed, equally cheerfully. "Let's beat it." +</p> +<p> +A shot from the river, where they had left Peter in the boat, started +them on the run for the bank. A scattering of shots, as from two rifles, +followed. And while the Dutch superintendent, in execrable Spanish, +shouted affirmations of Dutch neutrality into the menacing dark, across +the gunwale of <i>Chill II</i> they found the body of the tow-headed +youth whose business it had been not to die. +</p> +<hr /> +<p> +For the first hour, talking little, Davies and Wemple stumbled along the +apology for a road that led through the jungle to the lodge. They did +discuss the glares of several fires to the east along the south bank of +Panuco River, and hoped fervently that they were dwellings and not +wells. +</p> +<p> +"Two billion dollars worth of oil right here in the Ebańo field alone," +Davies grumbled. +</p> +<p> +"And a drunken Mexican, whose whole carcass and immortal soul aren't +worth ten pesos including hair, hide, and tallow, can start the bonfire +with a lighted wad of cotton waste," was Wemple's contribution. "And if +ever she starts, she'll gut the field of its last barrel." +</p> +<p> +Dawn, at five, enabled them to accelerate their pace; and six o'clock +found them routing out the occupants of the lodge. +</p> +<p> +"Dress for rough travel, and don't stop for any frills," Wemple called +around the corner of Miss Drexel's screened sleeping porch. +</p> +<p> +"Not a wash, nothing," Davies supplemented grimly, as he shook hands +with Charley Drexel, who yawned and slippered up to them in pajamas. +"Where are those horses, Charley? Still alive?" +</p> +<p> +Wemple finished giving orders to the sleepy peons to remain and care for +the place, occupying their spare time with hiding the more valuable +things, and was calling around the corner to Miss Drexel the news of the +capture of Vera Cruz, when Davies returned with the information that the +horses consisted of a pair of moth-eaten skates that could be depended +upon to lie down and die in the first half mile. +</p> +<p> +Beth Drexel emerged, first protesting that under no circumstances would +she be guilty of riding the creatures, and, next, her brunette skin and +dark eyes still flushed warm with sleep, greeting the two rescuers. +</p> +<p> +"It would be just as well if you washed your face, Stanton," she told +Davies; and, to Wemple: "You're just as bad, Jim. You are a pair of +dirty boys." +</p> +<p> +"And so will you be," Wemple assured her, "before you get back to +Tampico. Are you ready?" +</p> +<p> +"As soon as Juanita packs my hand bag." +</p> +<p> +"Heavens, Beth, don't waste time!" exclaimed Wemple. "Jump in and grab +up what you want." +</p> +<p> +"Make a start—make a start," chanted Davies. "Hustle! Hustle!—Charley, +get the rifle you like best and take it along. Get a couple for us." +</p> +<p> +"Is it as serious as that?" Miss Drexel queried. +</p> +<p> +Both men nodded. +</p> +<p> +"The Mexicans are tearing loose," Davies explained. "How they missed +this place I don't know." A movement in the adjoining room startled him. +"Who's that?" he cried. +</p> +<p> +"Why, Mrs. Morgan," Miss Drexel answered. +</p> +<p> +"Good heavens, Wemple, I'd forgotten <i>her</i>," groaned Davies. "How +will we ever get her anywhere?" +</p> +<p> +"Let Beth walk, and relay the lady on the nags." +</p> +<p> +"She weighs a hundred and eighty," Miss Drexel laughed. "Oh, hurry, +Martha! We're waiting on you to start!" +</p> +<p> +Muffled speech came through the partition, and then emerged a very +short, stout, much-flustered woman of middle age. +</p> +<p> +"I simply can't walk, and you boys needn't demand it of me," was her +plaint. "It's no use. I couldn't walk half a mile to save my life, and +it's six of the worst miles to the river." +</p> +<p> +They regarded her in despair. +</p> +<p> +"Then you'll ride," said Davies. "Come on, Charley. We'll get a saddle +on each of the nags." +</p> +<p> +Along the road through the tropic jungle, Miss Drexel and Juanita, +her Indian maid, led the way. Her brother, carrying the three rifles, +brought up the rear, while in the middle Davies and Wemple struggled +with Mrs. Morgan and the two decrepit steeds. One, a flea-bitten roan, +groaned continually from the moment Mrs. Morgan's burden was put upon +him till she was shifted to the other horse. And this other, a mangy +sorrel, invariably lay down at the end of a quarter of a mile of Mrs. +Morgan. +</p> +<p> +Miss Drexel laughed and joked and encouraged; and Wemple, in brutal +fashion, compelled Mrs. Morgan to walk every third quarter of a mile. +At the end of an hour the sorrel refused positively to get up, and, so, +was abandoned. Thereafter, Mrs. Morgan rode the roan alternate quarters +of miles, and between times walked—if <i>walk</i> may describe her +stumbling progress on two preposterously tiny feet with a man supporting +her on either side. +</p> +<p> +A mile from the river, the road became more civilized, running along the +side of a thousand acres of banana plantation. +</p> +<p> +"Parslow's," young Drexel said. "He'll lose a year's crop now on account +of this mix-up." +</p> +<p> +"Oh, look what I've found!" Miss Drexel called from the lead. +</p> +<p> +"First machine that ever tackled this road," was young Drexel's +judgment, as they halted to stare at the tire-tracks. +</p> +<p> +"But look at the tracks," his sister urged. "The machine must have come +right out of the bananas and climbed the bank." +</p> +<p> +"Some machine to climb a bank like that," was Davies' comment. "What it +did do was to go down the bank—take a scout after it, Charley, while +Wemple and I get Mrs. Morgan off her fractious mount. No machine ever +built could travel far through those bananas." +</p> +<p> +The flea-bitten roan, on its four legs upstanding, continued bravely to +stand until the lady was removed, whereupon, with a long sigh, it sank +down on the ground. Mrs. Morgan likewise sighed, sat down, and regarded +her tiny feet mournfully. +</p> +<p> +"Go on, boys," she said. "Maybe you can find something at the river and +send back for me." +</p> +<p> +But their indignant rejection of the plan never attained speech, for, at +that instant, from the green sea of banana trees beneath them, came the +sudden purr of an engine. A minute later the splutter of an exhaust told +them the silencer had been taken off. The huge-fronded banana trees were +violently agitated as by the threshing of a hidden Titan. They could +identify the changing of gears and the reversing and going ahead, until, +at the end of five minutes, a long low, black car burst from the wall of +greenery and charged the soft earth bank, but the earth was too soft, +and when, two-thirds of the way up, beaten, Charley Drexel braked the +car to a standstill, the earth crumbled from under the tires, and he ran +it down and back, the way he had come, until half-buried in the bananas. +</p> +<p> +"'A Merry Oldsmobile!'" Miss Drexel quoted from the popular song, +clapping her hands. "Now, Martha, your troubles are over." +</p> +<p> +"Six-cylinder, and sounds as if it hadn't been out of the shop a week, +or may I never ride in a machine again," Wemple remarked, looking to +Davies for confirmation. +</p> +<p> +Davies nodded. +</p> +<p> +"It's Allison's," he said. "Campos tried to shake him down for a private +loan, and—well, you know Allison. He told Campos to go to. And Campos, +in revenge, commandeered his new car. That was two days ago, before we +lifted a hand at Vera Cruz. Allison told me yesterday the last he'd +heard of the car it was on a steamboat bound up river. And here's where +they ditched it—but let's get a hustle on and get her into the +running." +</p> +<p> +Three attempts they made, with young Drexel at the wheel; but the soft +earth and the pitch of the grade baffled. +</p> +<p> +"She's got the power all right," young Drexel protested. "But she can't +bite into that mush." +</p> +<p> +So far, they had spread on the ground the robes found in the car. +The men now added their coats, and Wemple, for additional traction, +unsaddled the roan, and spread the cinches, stirrup leathers, saddle +blanket, and bridle in the way of the wheels. The car took the +treacherous slope in a rush, with churning wheels biting into the woven +fabrics; and, with no more than a hint of hesitation, it cleared the +crest and swung into the road. +</p> +<p> +"Isn't she the spunky devil!" Drexel exulted. "Say, she could climb the +side of a house if she could get traction." +</p> +<p> +"Better put on that silencer again, if you don't want to play tag with +every soldier in the district," Wemple ordered, as they helped Mrs. +Morgan in. +</p> +<p> +The road to the Dutch gusher compelled them to go through the outskirts +of Panuco town. Indian and half breed women gazed stolidly at the +strange vehicle, while the children and barking dogs clamorously +advertised its progress. Once, passing long lines of tethered federal +horses, they were challenged by a sentry; but at Wemple's "Throw on the +juice!" the car took the rutted road at fifty miles an hour. A shot +whistled after them. But it was not the shot that made Mrs. Morgan +scream. The cause was a series of hog-wallows masked with mud, which +nearly tore the steering wheel from Drexel's hands before he could +reduce speed. +</p> +<p> +"Wonder it didn't break an axle," Davies growled. "Go on and take it +easy, Charley. We're past any interference." +</p> +<p> +They swung into the Dutch camp and into the beginning of their real +troubles. The refugee steamboat had departed down river from the +Asphodel camp; <i>Chill II</i> had disappeared, the superintendent knew +not how, along with the body of Peter Tonsburg; and the superintendent +was dubious of their remaining. +</p> +<p> +"I've got to consider the owners," he told them. "This is the biggest +well in Mexico, and you know it—a hundred and eighty-five thousand +barrels daily flow. I've no right to risk it. We have no trouble with +the Mexicans. It's you Americans. If you stay here, I'll have to protect +you. And I can't protect you, anyway. We'll all lose our lives and +they'll destroy the well in the bargain. And if they fire it, it means +the entire Ebańo oil field. The strata's too broken. We're flowing +twenty thousand barrels now, and we can't pinch down any further. As it +is, the oil's coming up outside the pipe. And we can't have a fight. +We've got to keep the oil moving." +</p> +<p> +The men nodded. It was cold-blooded logic; but there was no fault to it. +</p> +<p> +The harassed expression eased on the superintendent's face, and he +almost beamed on them for agreeing with him. +</p> +<p> +"You've got a good machine there," he continued. "The ferry's at the +bank at Panuco, and once you're across, the rebels aren't so thick on +the north shore. Why, you can beat the steamboat back to Tampico by +hours. And it hasn't rained for days. The road won't be at all bad." +</p> +<hr /> +<p> +"Which is all very good," Davies observed to Wemple as they approached +Panuco, "except for the fact that the road on the other side was never +built for automobiles, much less for a long-bodied one like this. I wish +it were the Four instead of the Six." +</p> +<p> +"And it would bother you with a Four to negotiate that hill at Aliso +where the road switchbacks above the river." +</p> +<p> +"And we're going to do it with a Six or lose a perfectly good Six in +trying," Beth Drexel laughed to them. +</p> +<p> +Avoiding the cavalry camp, they entered Panuco with all the speed the +ruts permitted, swinging dizzy corners to the squawking of chickens and +barking of dogs. To gain the ferry, they had to pass down one side of +the great plaza which was the heart of the city. Peon soldiers, drowsing +in the sun or clustering around the <i>cantinas</i>, stared stupidly at +them as they flashed past. Then a drunken major shouted a challenge from +the doorway of a <i>cantina</i> and began vociferating orders, and as +they left the plaza behind they could hear rising the familiar mob-cry +"<i>Kill the Gringoes!</i>" +</p> +<p> +"If any shooting begins, you women get down in the bottom of the car," +Davies commanded. "And there's the ferry all right. Be careful, +Charley." +</p> +<p> +The machine plunged directly down the bank through a cut so deep that it +was more like a chute, struck the gangplank with a terrific bump, and +seemed fairly to leap on board. The ferry was scarcely longer than the +machine, and Drexel, visibly shaken by the closeness of the shave, +managed to stop only when six inches remained between the front wheels +and overboard. +</p> +<p> +It was a cable ferry, operated by gasoline, and, while Wemple cast off +the mooring lines, Davies was making swift acquaintance with the engine. +The third turn-over started it, and he threw it into gear with the +windlass that began winding up the cable from the river's bottom. +</p> +<p> +By the time they were in midstream a score of horsemen rode out on the +bank they had just left and opened a scattering fire. The party crowded +in the shelter of the car and listened to the occasional richochet of a +bullet. Once, only, the car was struck. +</p> +<p> +"Here!—what are you up to!" Wemple demanded suddenly of Drexel, who had +exposed himself to fish a rifle out of the car. +</p> +<p> +"Going to show the skunks what shooting is," was his answer. +</p> +<p> +"No, you don't," Wemple said. "We're not here to fight, but to get +this party to Tampico." He remembered Peter Tonsburg's remark. "Whose +business is to live, Charley—that's our business. Anybody can get +killed. It's too easy these days." +</p> +<p> +Still under fire, they moored at the north shore, and when Davies had +tossed overboard the igniter from the ferry engine and commandeered ten +gallons of its surplus gasoline, they took the steep, soft road up the +bank in a rush. +</p> +<p> +"Look at her climb," Drexel uttered gleefully. "That Aliso hill won't +bother us at all. She'll put a crimp in it, that's what she'll do." +</p> +<p> +"It isn't the hill, it's the sharp turn of the zig-zag that's liable to +put a crimp in her," Davies answered. "That road was never laid out for +autos, and no auto has ever been over it. They steamboated this one up." +</p> +<p> +But trouble came before Aliso was reached. Where the road dipped +abruptly into a small jag of hollow that was almost V-shaped, it arose +out and became a hundred yards of deep sand. In order to have speed left +for the sand after he cleared the stiff up-grade of the V, Drexel was +compelled to hit the trough of the V with speed. Wemple clutched Miss +Drexel as she was on the verge of being bounced out. Mrs. Morgan, too +solid for such airiness, screamed from the pain of the bump; and even +the imperturbable Juanita fell to crossing herself and uttering prayers +with exceeding rapidity. +</p> +<p> +The car cleared the crest and encountered the sand, going slower from +moment to moment, slewing and writhing and squirming from side to side. +The men leaped out and began shoving. Miss Drexel urged Juanita out and +followed. But the car came to a standstill, and Drexel, looking back and +pointing, showed the first sign of being beaten. Two things he pointed +to: a constitutional soldier on horseback a quarter of a mile in the +rear; and a portion of the narrow road that had fallen out bodily on the +far slope of the V. +</p> +<p> +"Can't get at this sand unless we go back and try over, and we ditch the +car if we try to back up that." +</p> +<p> +The ditch was a huge natural sump-hole, the stagnant surface of which +was a-crawl with slime twenty feet beneath. +</p> +<p> +Davies and Wemple sprang to take the boy's place. +</p> +<p> +"You can't do it," he urged. "You can get the back wheels past, but +right there you hit that little curve, and if you make it your front +wheel will be off the bank. If you don't make it, your back wheel'll be +off." +</p> +<p> +Both men studied it carefully, then looked at each other. +</p> +<p> +"We've got to," said Davies. +</p> +<p> +"And we're going to," Wemple said, shoving his rival aside in comradely +fashion and taking the post of danger at the wheel. "You're just as good +as I at the wheel, Davies," he explained. "But you're a better shot. +Your job's cut out to go back and hold off any Greasers that show up." +</p> +<p> +Davies took a rifle and strolled back with so ominous an air that the +lone cavalryman put spurs to his horse and fled. Mrs. Morgan was helped +out and sent plodding and tottering unaided on her way to the end of the +sand stretch. Miss Drexel and Juanita joined Charley in spreading the +coats and robes on the sand and in gathering and spreading small +branches, brush, and armfuls of a dry, brittle shrub. But all three +ceased from their exertions to watch Wemple as he shot the car backward +down the V and up. The car seemed first to stand on one end, then on the +other, and to reel drunkenly and to threaten to turn over into the +sump-hole when its right front wheel fell into the air where the road +had ceased to be. But the hind wheels bit and climbed the grade and out. +</p> +<p> +Without pause, gathering speed down the perilous slope, Wemple came +ahead and up, gaining fifty feet of sand over the previous failure. More +of the alluvial soil of the road had dropped out at the bad place; but +he took the V in reverse, overhung the front wheel as before, and from +the top came ahead again. Four times he did this, gaining each time, but +each time knocking a bigger hole where the road fell out, until Miss +Drexel begged him not to try again. +</p> +<p> +He pointed to a squad of horsemen coming at a gallop along the road a +mile in the rear, and took the V once again in reverse. +</p> +<p> +"If only we had more stuff," Drexel groaned to his sister, as he threw +down a meager, hard-gathered armful of the dry and brittle shrub, and as +Wemple once more, with rush and roar, shot down the V. +</p> +<p> +For an instant it seemed that the great car would turn over into the +sump, but the next instant it was past. It struck the bottom of the +hollow a mighty wallop, and bounced and upended to the steep pitch of +the climb. Miss Drexel, seized by inspiration or desperation, with a +quick movement stripped off her short, corduroy tramping-skirt, and, +looking very lithe and boyish in slender-cut pongee bloomers, ran along +the sand and dropped the skirt for a foothold for the slowly revolving +wheels. Almost, but not quite, did the car stop, then, gathering way, +with the others running alongside and shoving, it emerged on the hard +road. +</p> +<p> +While they tossed the robes and coats and Miss Drexel's skirt into the +bottom of the car and got Mrs. Morgan on board, Davies overtook them. +</p> +<p> +"Down on the bottom!—all of you!" he shouted, as he gained the running +board and the machine sprang away. A scattering of shots came from the +rear. +</p> +<p> +"Whose business is to live!—hunch down!" Davies yelled in Wemple's ear, +accompanying the instruction with an open-handed blow on the shoulder. +</p> +<p> +"Live yourself," Wemple grumbled as he obediently hunched. "Get your +head down. You're exposing yourself." +</p> +<p> +The pursuit lasted but a little while, and died away in an occasional +distant shot. +</p> +<p> +"They've quit," Davies announced. "It never entered their stupid heads +that they could have caught us on Aliso Hill." +</p> +<hr /> +<p> +"It can't be done," was Charley Drexel's quick judgment of youth, as the +machine stopped and they surveyed the acute-angled turn on the stiff +up-grade of Aliso. Beneath was the swift-running river. +</p> +<p> +"Get out everybody!" Wemple commanded. "Up-side, all of you, if you +don't want the car to turn over on you. Spread traction wherever she +needs it." +</p> +<p> +"Shoot her ahead, or back—she can't stop," Davies said quietly, from +the outer edge of the road, where he had taken position. "The earth's +crumbling away from under the tires every second she stands still." +</p> +<p> +"Get out from under, or she'll be on top of you," Wemple ordered, as he +went ahead several yards. +</p> +<p> +But again, after the car rested a minute, the light, dry earth began to +crack and crumble away from under the tires, rolling in a miniature +avalanche down the steep declivity into the water. And not until Wemple +had backed fifty yards down the narrow road did he find solid resting +for the car. He came ahead on foot and examined the acute angle formed +by the two zig-zags. Together with Davies he planned what was to be +done. +</p> +<p> +"When you come you've got to come a-humping," Davies advised. "If you +stop anywhere for more than seconds, it's good night, and the walking +won't be fine." +</p> +<p> +"She's full of fight, and she can do it. See that hard formation right +there on the inside wall. It couldn't have come at a better spot. If I +don't make her hind wheels climb half way up it, we'll start walking +about a second thereafter." +</p> +<p> +"She's a two-fisted piece of machinery," Davies encouraged. "I know her +kind. If she can't do it, no machine can that was ever made. Am I right, +Beth?" +</p> +<p> +"She's a regular, spunky she-devil," Miss Drexel laughed agreement. "And +so are the pair of you—er—of the male persuasion, I mean." +</p> +<p> +Miss Drexel had never seemed so fascinating to either of them as she was +then, in the excitement quite unconscious of her abbreviated costume, +her brown hair flying, her eyes sparkling, her lips smiling. Each man +caught the other in that moment's pause to look, and each man sighed to +the other and looked frankly into each other's eyes ere he turned to the +work at hand. +</p> +<p> +Wemple came up with his usual rush, but it was a gauged rush; and Davies +took the post of danger, the outside running board, where his weight +would help the broad tires to bite a little deeper into the treacherous +surface. If the road-edge crumbled away it was inevitable that he would +be caught under the car as it rolled over and down to the river. +</p> +<p> +It was ahead and reverse, ahead and reverse, with only the briefest of +pauses in which to shift the gears. Wemple backed up the hard formation +on the inside bank till the car seemed standing on end, rushed ahead +till the earth of the outer edge broke under the front tires and +splashed in the water. Davies, now off, and again on the running board +when needed, accompanied the car in its jerky and erratic progress, +tossing robes and coats under the tires, calling instructions to Drexel +similarly occupied on the other side, and warning Miss Drexel out of the +way. +</p> +<p> +"Oh, you Merry Olds, you Merry Olds, you Merry Olds," Wemple muttered +aloud, as if in prayer, as he wrestled the car about the narrow area, +gaining sometimes inches in pivoting it, sometimes fetching back up the +inner wall precisely at the spot previously attained, and, once, having +the car, with the surface of the roadbed under it, slide bodily and +sidewise, two feet down the road. +</p> +<p> +The clapping of Miss Drexel's hands was the first warning Davies +received that the feat was accomplished, and, swinging on to the running +board, he found the car backing in the straight-away up the next zig-zag +and Wemple still chanting ecstatically, "Oh, you Merry Olds, you Merry +Olds!" +</p> +<p> +There were no more grades nor zigzags between them and Tampico, but, so +narrow was the primitive road, two miles farther were backed before +space was found in which to turn around. One thing of importance +did lie between them and Tampico—namely the investing lines of the +constitutionalists. But here, at noon, fortune favored in the form of +three American soldiers of fortune, operators of machine guns, who had +fought the entire campaign with Villa from the beginning of the advance +from the Texan border. Under a white flag, Wemple drove the car across +the zone of debate into the federal lines, where good fortune, in the +guise of an ubiquitous German naval officer, again received them. +</p> +<p> +"I think you are nearly the only Americans left in Tampico," he told +them. "About all the rest are lying out in the Gulf on the different +warships. But at the Southern Hotel there are several, and the situation +seems quieter." +</p> +<p> +As they got out at the Southern, Davies laid his hand on the car and +murmured, "Good old girl!" Wemple followed suit. And Miss Drexel, +engaging both men's eyes and about to say something, was guilty of a +sudden moisture in her own eyes that made her turn to the car with a +caressing hand and repeat, "Good old girl!" +</p> + + +<div style="height: 3em;"><br /><br /><br /></div> + +<hr class="full" /> +<p>***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK DUTCH COURAGE AND OTHER STORIES***</p> +<p>******* This file should be named 14449-h.txt or 14449-h.zip *******</p> +<p>This and all associated files of various formats will be found in:<br /> +<a href="https://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/1/4/4/4/14449">https://www.gutenberg.org/1/4/4/4/14449</a></p> +<p>Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed.</p> + +<p>Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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For +example an eBook of filename 10234 would be found at: + +https://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/1/0/2/3/10234 + +or filename 24689 would be found at: +https://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/2/4/6/8/24689 + +An alternative method of locating eBooks: +<a href="https://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/GUTINDEX.ALL">https://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/GUTINDEX.ALL</a> + +*** END: FULL LICENSE *** +</pre> +</body> +</html> diff --git a/old/14449-h/images/frontis.jpg b/old/14449-h/images/frontis.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..0144acf --- /dev/null +++ b/old/14449-h/images/frontis.jpg diff --git a/old/14449.txt b/old/14449.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..f0d6e5b --- /dev/null +++ b/old/14449.txt @@ -0,0 +1,4125 @@ +The Project Gutenberg eBook, Dutch Courage and Other Stories, by Jack +London + + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + + + + +Title: Dutch Courage and Other Stories + +Author: Jack London + +Release Date: December 24, 2004 [eBook #14449] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-646-US (US-ASCII) + + +***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK DUTCH COURAGE AND OTHER STORIES*** + + +E-text prepared by David Garcia and the Project Gutenberg Online +Distributed Proofreading Team + + + +DUTCH COURAGE AND OTHER STORIES + +by + +JACK LONDON + +New York + +1924 + + + + + + + +[Illustration: JACK LONDON, SAILOR] + + + + +PREFACE + + +"I've never written a line that I'd be ashamed for my young daughters to +read, and I never shall write such a line!" + +Thus Jack London, well along in his career. And thus almost any +collection of his adventure stories is acceptable to young readers as +well as to their elders. So, in sorting over the few manuscripts still +unpublished in book form, while most of them were written primarily for +boys and girls, I do not hesitate to include as appropriate a tale such +as "Whose Business Is to Live." + +Number two of the present group, "Typhoon Off the Coast of Japan," is +the first story ever written by Jack London for publication. At the age +of seventeen he had returned from his deep-water voyage in the sealing +schooner _Sophie Sutherland_, and was working thirteen hours a day +for forty dollars a month in an Oakland, California, jute mill. The +_San Francisco Call_ offered a prize of twenty-five dollars for the +best written descriptive article. Jack's mother, Flora London, +remembering that I had excelled in his school "compositions," urged him +to enter the contest by recalling some happening of his travels. Grammar +school, years earlier, had been his sole disciplined education. But his +wide reading, worldly experience, and extraordinary powers of +observation and correlation, enabled him to command first prize. It is +notable that the second and third awards went to students at California +and Stanford universities. + +Jack never took the trouble to hunt up that old _San Francisco +Call_ of November 12, 1893; but when I came to write his biography, +"The Book of Jack London," I unearthed the issue, and the tale appears +intact in my English edition, published in 1921. And now, gathering +material for what will be the final Jack London collections, I cannot +but think that his first printed story will have unusual interest for +his readers of all ages. + +The boy Jack's unexpected success in that virgin venture naturally +spurred him to further effort. It was, for one thing, the pleasantest +way he had ever earned so much money, even if it lacked the element of +physical prowess and danger that had marked those purple days with the +oyster pirates, and, later, equally exciting passages with the Fish +Patrol. He only waited to catch up on sleep lost while hammering out +"Typhoon Off the Coast of Japan," before applying himself to new +fiction. That was what was the matter with it: it was sheer fiction in +place of the white-hot realism of the "true story" that had brought him +distinction. This second venture he afterward termed "gush." It was +promptly rejected by the editor of the _Call_. Lacking experience +in such matters, Jack could not know why. And it did not occur to him to +submit his manuscript elsewhere. His fire was dampened; he gave over +writing and continued with the jute mill and innocent social diversion +in company with Louis Shattuck and his friends, who had superseded +Jack's wilder comrades and hazards of bay- and sea-faring. This period, +following the publication of "Typhoon Off the Coast of Japan," is +touched upon in his book "John Barleycorn." + +The next that one hears of attempts at writing is when, during his +tramping episode, he showed some stories to his aunt, Mrs. Everhard, in +St. Joseph, Michigan. And in the ensuing months of that year, 1894, she +received other romances mailed at his stopping places along the eastward +route, alone or with Kelly's Industrial Army. As yet it had not sunk +into his consciousness that his unyouthful knowledge of life in the raw +would be the means of success in literature; therefore he discoursed of +imaginary things and persons, lords and ladies, days of chivalry and +what not--anything but out of his priceless first-hand lore. At the same +time, however, he kept a small diary which, in the days when he had +found himself, helped in visualizing his tramp life, in "The Road." + +The only out and out "juvenile" in the Jack London list prior to his +death is "The Cruise of the Dazzler," published in 1902. At that it is a +good and authentic maritime study of its kind, and not lacking in honest +thrills. "Tales of the Fish Patrol" comes next as a book for boys; but +the happenings told therein are perilous enough to interest many an +older reader. + +I am often asked which of his books have made the strongest appeal to +youth. The impulse is to answer that it depends upon the particular type +of youth. As example, there lies before me a letter from a friend: "Ruth +(she is eleven) has been reading every book of your husband's that she +can get hold of. She is crazy over the stories. I have bought nearly all +of them, but cannot find 'The Son of the Wolf,' 'Moon Face,' and +'Michael Brother of Jerry.' Will you tell me where I can order these?" I +have not yet learned Ruth's favorites; but I smile to myself at thought +of the re-reading she may have to do when her mind has more fully +developed. + +The youth of every country who read Jack London naturally turn to his +adventure stories--particularly "The Call of the Wild" and its companion +"White Fang," "The Sea Wolf," "The Cruise of the Snark," and my own +journal, "The Log of the Snark," and "Our Hawaii," "Smoke Bellew Tales," +"Adventure," "The Mutiny of the Elsinore," as well as "Before Adam," +"The Game," "The Abysmal Brute," "The Road," "Jerry of the Islands" and +its sequel "Michael Brother of Jerry." And because of the last named, +the youth of many lands are enrolling in the famous Jack London Club. +This was inspired by Dr. Francis H. Bowley, President of the +Massachusetts S.P.C.A. The Club expects no dues. Membership is automatic +through the mere promise to leave any playhouse during an animal +performance. The protest thereby registered is bound, in good time, to +do away with the abuses that attend animal training for show purposes. +"Michael Brother of Jerry" was written out of Jack London's heart of +love and head of understanding of animals, aided by a years'-long study +of the conditions of which he treats. Incidentally this book contains +one of the most charming bits of seafaring romance of the Southern Ocean +that he ever wrote. + +During the Great War, the English speaking soldiers called freely for +the foregoing novels, dubbing them "The Jacklondons"; and there was also +lively demand for "Burning Daylight," "The Scarlet Plague," "The Star +Rover," "The Little Lady of the Big House," "The Valley of the Moon," +and, because of its prophetic spirit, "The Iron Heel." There was +likewise a desire for the short-story collections, such as "The God of +His Fathers," "Children of the Frost," "The Faith of Men," "Love of +Life," "Lost Face," "When God Laughs," and later groups like "South Sea +Tales," "A Son of the Sun," "The Night Born," and "The House of Pride," +and a long list beside. + +But for the serious minded youth of America, Great Britain, and all +countries where Jack London's work has been translated--youth +considering life with a purpose--"Martin Eden" is the beacon. Passing +years only augment the number of messages that find their way to me from +near and far, attesting the worth to thoughtful boys and girls, young +men and women, of the author's own formative struggle in life and +letters as partially outlined in "Martin Eden." + +The present sheaf of young folk's stories were written during the latter +part of that battle for recognition, and my gathering of them inside +book covers is pursuant of his own intention at the time of his death on +November 22, 1916. + + CHARMIAN LONDON. + + Jack London Ranch, + Glen Ellen, Sonoma County, California. + August 1, 1922. + + + + +TABLE OF CONTENTS + + + DUTCH COURAGE + TYPHOON OFF THE COAST OF JAPAN + THE LOST POACHER + THE BANKS OF THE SACRAMENTO + CHRIS FARRINGTON: ABLE SEAMAN + TO REPEL BOARDERS + AN ADVENTURE IN THE UPPER SEA + BALD-FACE + IN YEDDO BAY + WHOSE BUSINESS IS TO LIVE + + + + +DUTCH COURAGE + + +"Just our luck!" + +Gus Lafee finished wiping his hands and sullenly threw the towel upon +the rocks. His attitude was one of deep dejection. The light seemed gone +out of the day and the glory from the golden sun. Even the keen mountain +air was devoid of relish, and the early morning no longer yielded its +customary zest. + +"Just our luck!" Gus repeated, this time avowedly for the edification of +another young fellow who was busily engaged in sousing his head in the +water of the lake. + +"What are you grumbling about, anyway?" Hazard Van Dorn lifted a +soap-rimmed face questioningly. His eyes were shut. "What's our luck?" + +"Look there!" Gus threw a moody glance skyward. "Some duffer's got ahead +of us. We've been scooped, that's all!" + +Hazard opened his eyes, and caught a fleeting glimpse of a white flag +waving arrogantly on the edge of a wall of rock nearly a mile above his +head. Then his eyes closed with a snap, and his face wrinkled +spasmodically. Gus threw him the towel, and uncommiseratingly watched +him wipe out the offending soap. He felt too blue himself to take stock +in trivialities. + +Hazard groaned. + +"Does it hurt--much?" Gus queried, coldly, without interest, as if it +were no more than his duty to ask after the welfare of his comrade. + +"I guess it does," responded the suffering one. + +"Soap's pretty strong, eh?--Noticed it myself." + +"'Tisn't the soap. It's--it's _that!_" He opened his reddened eyes +and pointed toward the innocent white little flag. "That's what hurts." + +Gus Lafee did not reply, but turned away to start the fire and begin +cooking breakfast. His disappointment and grief were too deep for +anything but silence, and Hazard, who felt likewise, never opened his +mouth as he fed the horses, nor once laid his head against their arching +necks or passed caressing fingers through their manes. The two boys were +blind, also, to the manifold glories of Mirror Lake which reposed at +their very feet. Nine times, had they chosen to move along its margin +the short distance of a hundred yards, could they have seen the sunrise +repeated; nine times, from behind as many successive peaks, could they +have seen the great orb rear his blazing rim; and nine times, had they +but looked into the waters of the lake, could they have seen the +phenomena reflected faithfully and vividly. But all the Titanic grandeur +of the scene was lost to them. They had been robbed of the chief +pleasure of their trip to Yosemite Valley. They had been frustrated in +their long-cherished design upon Half Dome, and hence were rendered +disconsolate and blind to the beauties and the wonders of the place. + +Half Dome rears its ice-scarred head fully five thousand feet above the +level floor of Yosemite Valley. In the name itself of this great rock +lies an accurate and complete description. Nothing more nor less is it +than a cyclopean, rounded dome, split in half as cleanly as an apple +that is divided by a knife. It is, perhaps, quite needless to state that +but one-half remains, hence its name, the other half having been carried +away by the great ice-river in the stormy time of the Glacial Period. In +that dim day one of those frigid rivers gouged a mighty channel from out +the solid rock. This channel to-day is Yosemite Valley. But to return to +the Half Dome. On its northeastern side, by circuitous trails and stiff +climbing, one may gain the Saddle. Against the slope of the Dome the +Saddle leans like a gigantic slab, and from the top of this slab, one +thousand feet in length, curves the great circle to the summit of the +Dome. A few degrees too steep for unaided climbing, these one thousand +feet defied for years the adventurous spirits who fixed yearning eyes +upon the crest above. + +One day, a couple of clear-headed mountaineers had proceeded to insert +iron eye-bolts into holes which they drilled into the rock every few +feet apart. But when they found themselves three hundred feet above the +Saddle, clinging like flies to the precarious wall with on either hand a +yawning abyss, their nerves failed them and they abandoned the +enterprise. So it remained for an indomitable Scotchman, one George +Anderson, finally to achieve the feat. Beginning where they had left +off, drilling and climbing for a week, he had at last set foot upon that +awful summit and gazed down into the depths where Mirror Lake reposed, +nearly a mile beneath. + +In the years which followed, many bold men took advantage of the huge +rope ladder which he had put in place; but one winter ladder, cables and +all were carried away by the snow and ice. True, most of the eye-bolts, +twisted and bent, remained. But few men had since essayed the hazardous +undertaking, and of those few more than one gave up his life on the +treacherous heights, and not one succeeded. + +But Gus Lafee and Hazard Van Dorn had left the smiling valley-land of +California and journeyed into the high Sierras, intent on the great +adventure. And thus it was that their disappointment was deep and +grievous when they awoke on this morning to receive the forestalling +message of the little white flag. + +"Camped at the foot of the Saddle last night and went up at the first +peep of day," Hazard ventured, long after the silent breakfast had been +tucked away and the dishes washed. + +Gus nodded. It was not in the nature of things that a youth's spirits +should long remain at low ebb, and his tongue was beginning to loosen. + +"Guess he's down by now, lying in camp and feeling as big as Alexander," +the other went on. "And I don't blame him, either; only I wish it were +we." + +"You can be sure he's down," Gus spoke up at last. "It's mighty warm on +that naked rock with the sun beating down on it at this time of year. +That was our plan, you know, to go up early and come down early. And any +man, sensible enough to get to the top, is bound to have sense enough to +do it before the rock gets hot and his hands sweaty." + +"And you can be sure he didn't take his shoes with, him." Hazard rolled +over on his back and lazily regarded the speck of flag fluttering +briskly on the sheer edge of the precipice. "Say!" He sat up with a +start. "What's that?" + +A metallic ray of light flashed out from the summit of Half Dome, then a +second and a third. The heads of both boys were craned backward on the +instant, agog with excitement. + +"What a duffer!" Gus cried. "Why didn't he come down when it was cool?" + +Hazard shook his head slowly, as if the question were too deep for +immediate answer and they had better defer judgment. + +The flashes continued, and as the boys soon noted, at irregular +intervals of duration and disappearance. Now they were long, now short; +and again they came and went with great rapidity, or ceased altogether +for several moments at a time. + +"I have it!" Hazard's face lighted up with the coming of understanding. +"I have it! That fellow up there is trying to talk to us. He's flashing +the sunlight down to us on a pocket-mirror--dot, dash; dot, dash; don't +you see?" + +The light also began to break in Gus's face. "Ah, I know! It's what they +do in war-time--signaling. They call it heliographing, don't they? Same +thing as telegraphing, only it's done without wires. And they use the +same dots and dashes, too." + +"Yes, the Morse alphabet. Wish I knew it." + +"Same here. He surely must have something to say to us, or he wouldn't +be kicking up all that rumpus." + +Still the flashes came and went persistently, till Gus exclaimed: "That +chap's in trouble, that's what's the matter with him! Most likely he's +hurt himself or something or other." + +"Go on!" Hazard scouted. + +Gus got out the shotgun and fired both barrels three times in rapid +succession. A perfect flutter of flashes came back before the echoes had +ceased their antics. So unmistakable was the message that even doubting +Hazard was convinced that the man who had forestalled them stood in some +grave danger. + +"Quick, Gus," he cried, "and pack! I'll see to the horses. Our trip +hasn't come to nothing, after all. We've got to go right up Half Dome +and rescue him. Where's the map? How do we get to the Saddle?" + +"'Taking the horse-trail below the Vernal Falls,'" Gus read from the +guide-book, "'one mile of brisk traveling brings the tourist to the +world-famed Nevada Fall. Close by, rising up in all its pomp and glory, +the Cap of Liberty stands guard----" + +"Skip all that!" Hazard impatiently interrupted. "The trail's what we +want." + +"Oh, here it is! 'Following the trail up the side of the fall will bring +you to the forks. The left one leads to Little Yosemite Valley, Cloud's +Rest, and other points.'" + +"Hold on; that'll do! I've got it on the map now," again interrupted +Hazard. "From the Cloud's Rest trail a dotted line leads off to Half +Dome. That shows the trail's abandoned. We'll have to look sharp to find +it. It's a day's journey." + +"And to think of all that traveling, when right here we're at the bottom +of the Dome!" Gus complained, staring up wistfully at the goal. + +"That's because this is Yosemite, and all the more reason for us to +hurry. Come on! Be lively, now!" + +Well used as they were to trail life, but few minutes sufficed to see +the camp equipage on the backs of the packhorses and the boys in the +saddle. In the late twilight of that evening they hobbled their animals +in a tiny mountain meadow, and cooked coffee and bacon for themselves at +the very base of the Saddle. Here, also, before they turned into their +blankets, they found the camp of the unlucky stranger who was destined +to spend the night on the naked roof of the Dome. + +Dawn was brightening into day when the panting lads threw themselves +down at the summit of the Saddle and began taking off their shoes. +Looking down from the great height, they seemed perched upon the +ridgepole of the world, and even the snow-crowned Sierra peaks seemed +beneath them. Directly below, on the one hand, lay Little Yosemite +Valley, half a mile deep; on the other hand, Big Yosemite, a mile. +Already the sun's rays were striking about the adventurers, but the +darkness of night still shrouded the two great gulfs into which they +peered. And above them, bathed in the full day, rose only the majestic +curve of the Dome. + +"What's that for?" Gus asked, pointing to a leather-shielded flask which +Hazard was securely fastening in his shirt pocket. + +"Dutch courage, of course," was the reply. "We'll need all our nerve in +this undertaking, and a little bit more, and," he tapped the flask +significantly, "here's the little bit more." + +"Good idea," Gus commented. + +How they had ever come possessed of this erroneous idea, it would be +hard to discover; but they were young yet, and there remained for them +many uncut pages of life. Believers, also, in the efficacy of whisky as +a remedy for snake-bite, they had brought with them a fair supply of +medicine-chest liquor. As yet they had not touched it. + +"Have some before we start?" Hazard asked. + +Gus looked into the gulf and shook his head. "Better wait till we get up +higher and the climbing is more ticklish." + +Some seventy feet above them projected the first eye-bolt. The winter +accumulations of ice had twisted and bent it down till it did not stand +more than a bare inch and a half above the rock--a most difficult object +to lasso as such a distance. Time and again Hazard coiled his lariat in +true cowboy fashion and made the cast, and time and again was he baffled +by the elusive peg. Nor could Gus do better. Taking advantage of +inequalities in the surface, they scrambled twenty feet up the Dome and +found they could rest in a shallow crevice. The cleft side of the Dome +was so near that they could look over its edge from the crevice and gaze +down the smooth, vertical wall for nearly two thousand feet. It was yet +too dark down below for them to see farther. + +The peg was now fifty feet away, but the path they must cover to +get to it was quite smooth, and ran at an inclination of nearly fifty +degrees. It seemed impossible, in that intervening space, to find a +resting-place. Either the climber must keep going up, or he must slide +down; he could not stop. But just here rose the danger. The Dome was +sphere-shaped, and if he should begin to slide, his course would be, not +to the point from which he had started and where the Saddle would catch +him, but off to the south toward Little Yosemite. This meant a plunge of +half a mile. + +"I'll try it," Gus said simply. + +They knotted the two lariats together, so that they had over a hundred +feet of rope between them; and then each boy tied an end to his waist. + +"If I slide," Gus cautioned, "come in on the slack and brace yourself. +If you don't, you'll follow me, that's all!" + +"Ay, ay!" was the confident response. "Better take a nip before you +start?" + +Gus glanced at the proffered bottle. He knew himself and of what he was +capable. "Wait till I make the peg and you join me. All ready?" + +"Ay." + +He struck out like a cat, on all fours, clawing energetically as he +urged his upward progress, his comrade paying out the rope carefully. At +first his speed was good, but gradually it dwindled. Now he was fifteen +feet from the peg, now ten, now eight--but going, oh, so slowly! Hazard, +looking up from his crevice, felt a contempt for him and disappointment +in him. It did look easy. Now Gus was five feet away, and after a +painful effort, four feet. But when only a yard intervened, he came to a +standstill--not exactly a standstill, for, like a squirrel in a wheel, +he maintained his position on the face of the Dome by the most desperate +clawing. + +He had failed, that was evident. The question now was, how to save +himself. With a sudden, catlike movement he whirled over on his back, +caught his heel in a tiny, saucer-shaped depression and sat up. Then his +courage failed him. Day had at last penetrated to the floor of the +valley, and he was appalled at the frightful distance. + +"Go ahead and make it!" Hazard ordered; but Gus merely shook his head. + +"Then come down!" + +Again he shook his head. This was his ordeal, to sit, nerveless and +insecure, on the brink of the precipice. But Hazard, lying safely in his +crevice, now had to face his own ordeal, but one of a different nature. +When Gus began to slide--as he soon must--would he, Hazard, be able to +take in the slack and then meet the shock as the other tautened the rope +and darted toward the plunge? It seemed doubtful. And there he lay, +apparently safe, but in reality harnessed to death. Then rose the +temptation. Why not cast off the rope about his waist? He would be safe +at all events. It was a simple way out of the difficulty. There was no +need that two should perish. But it was impossible for such temptation +to overcome his pride of race, and his own pride in himself and in his +honor. So the rope remained about him. + +"Come down!" he ordered; but Gus seemed to have become petrified. + +"Come down," he threatened, "or I'll drag you down!" He pulled on the +rope to show he was in earnest. + +"Don't you dare!" Gus articulated through his clenched teeth. + +"Sure, I will, if you don't come!" Again he jerked the rope. + +With a despairing gurgle Gus started, doing his best to work sideways +from the plunge. Hazard, every sense on the alert, almost exulting in +his perfect coolness, took in the slack with deft rapidity. Then, as the +rope began to tighten, he braced himself. The shock drew him half out of +the crevice; but he held firm and served as the center of the circle, +while Gus, with the rope as a radius, described the circumference and +ended up on the extreme southern edge of the Saddle. A few moments later +Hazard was offering him the flask. + +"Take some yourself," Gus said. + +"No; you. I don't need it." + +"And I'm past needing it." Evidently Gus was dubious of the bottle and +its contents. + +Hazard put it away in his pocket. "Are you game," he asked, "or are you +going to give it up?" + +"Never!" Gus protested. "I _am_ game. No Lafee ever showed the +white feather yet. And if I did lose my grit up there, it was only for +the moment--sort of like seasickness. I'm all right now, and I'm going +to the top." + +"Good!" encouraged Hazard. "You lie in the crevice this time, and I'll +show you how easy it is." + +But Gus refused. He held that it was easier and safer for him to try +again, arguing that it was less difficult for his one hundred and +sixteen pounds to cling to the smooth rock than for Hazard's one hundred +and sixty-five; also that it was easier for one hundred and sixty-five +pounds to bring a sliding one hundred and sixteen to a stop than _vice +versa_. And further, that he had the benefit of his previous +experience. Hazard saw the justice of this, although it was with great +reluctance that he gave in. + +Success vindicated Gus's contention. The second time, just as it seemed +as if his slide would be repeated, he made a last supreme effort and +gripped the coveted peg. By means of the rope, Hazard quickly joined +him. The next peg was nearly sixty feet away; but for nearly half that +distance the base of some glacier in the forgotten past had ground a +shallow furrow. Taking advantage of this, it was easy for Gus to lasso +the eye-bolt. And it seemed, as was really the case, that the hardest +part of the task was over. True, the curve steepened to nearly sixty +degrees above them, but a comparatively unbroken line of eye-bolts, six +feet apart, awaited the lads. They no longer had even to use the lasso. +Standing on one peg it was child's play to throw the bight of the rope +over the next and to draw themselves up to it. + +A bronzed and bearded man met them at the top and gripped their hands in +hearty fellowship. + +"Talk about your Mont Blancs!" he exclaimed, pausing in the midst of +greeting them to survey the mighty panorama. "But there's nothing on all +the earth, nor over it, nor under it, to compare with this!" Then he +recollected himself and thanked them for coming to his aid. No, he was +not hurt or injured in any way. Simply because of his own carelessness, +just as he had arrived at the top the previous day, he had dropped his +climbing rope. Of course it was impossible to descend without it. Did +they understand heliographing? No? That was strange! How did they---- + +"Oh, we knew something was the matter," Gus interrupted, "from the way +you flashed when we fired off the shotgun." + +"Find it pretty cold last night without blankets?" Hazard queried. + +"I should say so. I've hardly thawed out yet." + +"Have some of this." Hazard shoved the flask over to him. + +The stranger regarded him quite seriously for a moment, then said, +"My dear fellow, do you see that row of pegs? Since it is my honest +intention to climb down them very shortly, I am forced to decline. +No, I don't think I'll have any, though I thank you just the same." + +Hazard glanced at Gus and then put the flask back in his pocket. But +when they pulled the doubled rope through the last eye-bolt and set foot +on the Saddle, he again drew out the bottle. + +"Now that we're down, we don't need it," he remarked, pithily. "And I've +about come to the conclusion that there isn't very much in Dutch +courage, after all." He gazed up the great curve of the Dome. "Look at +what we've done without it!" + +Several seconds thereafter a party of tourists, gathered at the margin +of Mirror Lake, were astounded at the unwonted phenomenon of a whisky +flask descending upon them like a comet out of a clear sky; and all the +way back to the hotel they marveled greatly at the wonders of nature, +especially meteorites. + + + + +TYPHOON OFF THE COAST OF JAPAN + +[Jack London's first story, published at the age of seventeen] + + +It was four bells in the morning watch. We had just finished breakfast +when the order came forward for the watch on deck to stand by to heave +her to and all hands stand by the boats. + +"Port! hard a port!" cried our sailing-master. "Clew up the topsails! +Let the flying jib run down! Back the jib over to windward and run down +the foresail!" And so was our schooner _Sophie Sutherland_ hove to +off the Japan coast, near Cape Jerimo, on April 10, 1893. + +Then came moments of bustle and confusion. There were eighteen men to +man the six boats. Some were hooking on the falls, others casting off +the lashings; boat-steerers appeared with boat-compasses and +water-breakers, and boat-pullers with the lunch boxes. Hunters were +staggering under two or three shotguns, a rifle and heavy ammunition +box, all of which were soon stowed away with their oilskins and mittens +in the boats. + +The sailing-master gave his last orders, and away we went, pulling three +pairs of oars to gain our positions. We were in the weather boat, and so +had a longer pull than the others. The first, second, and third lee +boats soon had all sail set and were running off to the southward and +westward with the wind beam, while the schooner was running off to +leeward of them, so that in case of accident the boats would have fair +wind home. + +It was a glorious morning, but our boat-steerer shook his head ominously +as he glanced at the rising sun and prophetically muttered: "Red sun in +the morning, sailor take warning." The sun had an angry look, and a few +light, fleecy "nigger-heads" in that quarter seemed abashed and +frightened and soon disappeared. + +Away off to the northward Cape Jerimo reared its black, forbidding head +like some huge monster rising from the deep. The winter's snow, not yet +entirely dissipated by the sun, covered it in patches of glistening +white, over which the light wind swept on its way out to sea. Huge gulls +rose slowly, fluttering their wings in the light breeze and striking +their webbed feet on the surface of the water for over half a mile +before they could leave it. Hardly had the patter, patter died away +when a flock of sea quail rose, and with whistling wings flew away +to windward, where members of a large band of whales were disporting +themselves, their blowings sounding like the exhaust of steam engines. +The harsh, discordant cries of a sea-parrot grated unpleasantly on the +ear, and set half a dozen alert in a small band of seals that were ahead +of us. Away they went, breaching and jumping entirely out of water. A +sea-gull with slow, deliberate flight and long, majestic curves circled +round us, and as a reminder of home a little English sparrow perched +impudently on the fo'castle head, and, cocking his head on one side, +chirped merrily. The boats were soon among the seals, and the bang! +bang! of the guns could be heard from down to leeward. + +The wind was slowly rising, and by three o'clock as, with a dozen seals +in our boat, we were deliberating whether to go on or turn back, the +recall flag was run up at the schooner's mizzen--a sure sign that with +the rising wind the barometer was falling and that our sailing-master +was getting anxious for the welfare of the boats. + +Away we went before the wind with a single reef in our sail. With +clenched teeth sat the boat-steerer, grasping the steering oar firmly +with both hands, his restless eyes on the alert--a glance at the +schooner ahead, as we rose on a sea, another at the mainsheet, and then +one astern where the dark ripple of the wind on the water told him of a +coming puff or a large white-cap that threatened to overwhelm us. The +waves were holding high carnival, performing the strangest antics, as +with wild glee they danced along in fierce pursuit--now up, now down, +here, there, and everywhere, until some great sea of liquid green with +its milk-white crest of foam rose from the ocean's throbbing bosom and +drove the others from view. But only for a moment, for again under new +forms they reappeared. In the sun's path they wandered, where every +ripple, great or small, every little spit or spray looked like molten +silver, where the water lost its dark green color and became a dazzling, +silvery flood, only to vanish and become a wild waste of sullen +turbulence, each dark foreboding sea rising and breaking, then rolling +on again. The dash, the sparkle, the silvery light soon vanished with +the sun, which became obscured by black clouds that were rolling swiftly +in from the west, northwest; apt heralds of the coming storm. + +We soon reached the schooner and found ourselves the last aboard. +In a few minutes the seals were skinned, boats and decks washed, and +we were down below by the roaring fo'castle fire, with a wash, change +of clothes, and a hot, substantial supper before us. Sail had been put +on the schooner, as we had a run of seventy-five miles to make to the +southward before morning, so as to get in the midst of the seals, out +of which we had strayed during the last two days' hunting. + +We had the first watch from eight to midnight. The wind was soon blowing +half a gale, and our sailing-master expected little sleep that night as +he paced up and down the poop. The topsails were soon clewed up and made +fast, then the flying jib run down and furled. Quite a sea was rolling +by this time, occasionally breaking over the decks, flooding them and +threatening to smash the boats. At six bells we were ordered to turn +them over and put on storm lashings. This occupied us till eight bells, +when we were relieved by the mid-watch. I was the last to go below, +doing so just as the watch on deck was furling the spanker. Below all +were asleep except our green hand, the "bricklayer," who was dying of +consumption. The wildly dancing movements of the sea lamp cast a pale, +flickering light through the fo'castle and turned to golden honey the +drops of water on the yellow oilskins. In all the corners dark shadows +seemed to come and go, while up in the eyes of her, beyond the pall +bits, descending from deck to deck, where they seemed to lurk like some +dragon at the cavern's mouth, it was dark as Erebus. Now and again, the +light seemed to penetrate for a moment as the schooner rolled heavier +than usual, only to recede, leaving it darker and blacker than before. +The roar of the wind through the rigging came to the ear muffled like +the distant rumble of a train crossing a trestle or the surf on the +beach, while the loud crash of the seas on her weather bow seemed almost +to rend the beams and planking asunder as it resounded through the +fo'castle. The creaking and groaning of the timbers, stanchions, and +bulkheads, as the strain the vessel was undergoing was felt, served to +drown the groans of the dying man as he tossed uneasily in his bunk. +The working of the foremast against the deck beams caused a shower of +flaky powder to fall, and sent another sound mingling with the tumultous +storm. Small cascades of water streamed from the pall bits from the +fo'castle head above, and, joining issue with the streams from the wet +oilskins, ran along the floor and disappeared aft into the main hold. + +At two bells in the middle watch--that is, in land parlance one o'clock +in the morning--the order was roared out on the fo'castle: "All hands on +deck and shorten sail!" + +Then the sleepy sailors tumbled out of their bunk and into their +clothes, oil-skins, and sea-boots and up on deck. 'Tis when that order +comes on cold, blustering nights that "Jack" grimly mutters: "Who would +not sell a farm and go to sea?" + +It was on deck that the force of the wind could be fully appreciated, +especially after leaving the stifling fo'castle. It seemed to stand +up against you like a wall, making it almost impossible to move on +the heaving decks or to breathe as the fierce gusts came dashing by. +The schooner was hove to under jib, foresail, and mainsail. We proceeded +to lower the foresail and make it fast. The night was dark, greatly +impeding our labor. Still, though not a star or the moon could pierce +the black masses of storm clouds that obscured the sky as they swept +along before the gale, nature aided us in a measure. A soft light +emanated from the movement of the ocean. Each mighty sea, all +phosphorescent and glowing with the tiny lights of myriads of +animalculae, threatened to overwhelm us with a deluge of fire. Higher and +higher, thinner and thinner, the crest grew as it began to curve and +overtop preparatory to breaking, until with a roar it fell over the +bulwarks, a mass of soft glowing light and tons of water which sent the +sailors sprawling in all directions and left in each nook and cranny +little specks of light that glowed and trembled till the next sea washed +them away, depositing new ones in their places. Sometimes several seas +following each other with great rapidity and thundering down on our +decks filled them full to the bulwarks, but soon they were discharged +through the lee scuppers. + +To reef the mainsail we were forced to run off before the gale under the +single reefed jib. By the time we had finished the wind had forced up +such a tremendous sea that it was impossible to heave her to. Away we +flew on the wings of the storm through the muck and flying spray. A wind +sheer to starboard, then another to port as the enormous seas struck the +schooner astern and nearly broached her to. As day broke we took in the +jib, leaving not a sail unfurled. Since we had begun scudding she had +ceased to take the seas over her bow, but amidships they broke fast +and furious. It was a dry storm in the matter of rain, but the force +of the wind filled the air with fine spray, which flew as high as the +crosstrees and cut the face like a knife, making it impossible to see +over a hundred yards ahead. The sea was a dark lead color as with long, +slow, majestic roll it was heaped up by the wind into liquid mountains +of foam. The wild antics of the schooner were sickening as she forged +along. She would almost stop, as though climbing a mountain, then +rapidly rolling to right and left as she gained the summit of a huge +sea, she steadied herself and paused for a moment as though affrighted +at the yawning precipice before her. Like an avalanche, she shot forward +and down as the sea astern struck her with the force of a thousand +battering rams, burying her bow to the catheads in the milky foam at the +bottom that came on deck in all directions--forward, astern, to right +and left, through the hawse-pipes and over the rail. + +The wind began to drop, and by ten o'clock we were talking of heaving +her to. We passed a ship, two schooners, and a four-masted barkentine +under the smallest of canvas, and at eleven o'clock, running up the +spanker and jib, we hove her to, and in another hour we were beating +back again against the aftersea under full sail to regain the sealing +ground away to the westward. + +Below, a couple of men were sewing the "bricklayer's" body in canvas +preparatory to the sea burial. And so with the storm passed away the +"bricklayer's" soul. + + + + +THE LOST POACHER + + +"But they won't take excuses. You're across the line, and that's enough. +They'll take you. In you go, Siberia and the salt-mines. And as for +Uncle Sam, why, what's he to know about it? Never a word will get back +to the States. 'The _Mary Thomas_,' the papers will say, 'the +_Mary Thomas_ lost with all hands. Probably in a typhoon in the +Japanese seas.' That's what the papers will say, and people, too. In you +go, Siberia and the salt-mines. Dead to the world and kith and kin, +though you live fifty years." + +In such manner John Lewis, commonly known as the "sea-lawyer," settled +the matter out of hand. + +It was a serious moment in the forecastle of the _Mary Thomas_. No +sooner had the watch below begun to talk the trouble over, than the +watch on deck came down and joined them. As there was no wind, every +hand could be spared with the exception of the man at the wheel, and he +remained only for the sake of discipline. Even "Bub" Russell, the +cabin-boy, had crept forward to hear what was going on. + +However, it was a serious moment, as the grave faces of the sailors bore +witness. For the three preceding months the _Mary Thomas_ sealing +schooner, had hunted the seal pack along the coast of Japan and north to +Bering Sea. Here, on the Asiatic side of the sea, they were forced to +give over the chase, or rather, to go no farther; for beyond, the +Russian cruisers patrolled forbidden ground, where the seals might breed +in peace. + +A week before she had fallen into a heavy fog accompanied by calm. Since +then the fog-bank had not lifted, and the only wind had been light airs +and catspaws. This in itself was not so bad, for the sealing schooners +are never in a hurry so long as they are in the midst of the seals; but +the trouble lay in the fact that the current at this point bore heavily +to the north. Thus the _Mary Thomas_ had unwittingly drifted across +the line, and every hour she was penetrating, unwillingly, farther and +farther into the dangerous waters where the Russian bear kept guard. + +How far she had drifted no man knew. The sun had not been visible +for a week, nor the stars, and the captain had been unable to take +observations in order to determine his position. At any moment a cruiser +might swoop down and hale the crew away to Siberia. The fate of other +poaching seal-hunters was too well known to the men of the _Mary +Thomas_, and there was cause for grave faces. + +"Mine friends," spoke up a German boat-steerer, "it vas a pad piziness. +Shust as ve make a big catch, und all honest, somedings go wrong, und +der Russians nab us, dake our skins and our schooner, und send us mit +der anarchists to Siberia. Ach! a pretty pad piziness!" + +"Yes, that's where it hurts," the sea lawyer went on. "Fifteen hundred +skins in the salt piles, and all honest, a big pay-day coming to every +man Jack of us, and then to be captured and lose it all! It'd be +different if we'd been poaching, but it's all honest work in open +water." + +"But if we haven't done anything wrong, they can't do anything to us, +can they?" Bub queried. + +"It strikes me as 'ow it ain't the proper thing for a boy o' your age +shovin' in when 'is elders is talkin'," protested an English sailor, +from over the edge of his bunk. + +"Oh, that's all right, Jack," answered the sea-lawyer. "He's a perfect +right to. Ain't he just as liable to lose his wages as the rest of us?" + +"Wouldn't give thruppence for them!" Jack sniffed back. He had been +planning to go home and see his family in Chelsea when he was paid off, +and he was now feeling rather blue over the highly possible loss, not +only of his pay, but of his liberty. + +"How are they to know?" the sea-lawyer asked in answer to Bub's previous +question. "Here we are in forbidden water. How do they know but what we +came here of our own accord? Here we are, fifteen hundred skins in the +hold. How do they, know whether we got them in open water or in the +closed sea? Don't you see, Bub, the evidence is all against us. If you +caught a man with his pockets full of apples like those which grow on +your tree, and if you caught him in your tree besides, what'd you think +if he told you he couldn't help it, and had just been sort of blown +there, and that anyway those apples came from some other tree--what'd +you think, eh?" + +Bub saw it clearly when put in that light, and shook his head +despondently. + +"You'd rather be dead than go to Siberia," one of the boat-pullers said. +"They put you into the salt-mines and work you till you die. Never see +daylight again. Why, I've heard tell of one fellow that was chained to +his mate, and that mate died. And they were both chained together! And +if they send you to the quicksilver mines you get salivated. I'd rather +be hung than salivated." + +"Wot's salivated?" Jack asked, suddenly sitting up in his bunk at the +hint of fresh misfortunes. + +"Why, the quicksilver gets into your blood; I think that's the way. And +your gums all swell like you had the scurvy, only worse, and your teeth +get loose in your jaws. And big ulcers form, and then you die horrible. +The strongest man can't last long a-mining quicksilver." + +"A pad piziness," the boat-steerer reiterated, dolorously, in the +silence which followed. "A pad piziness. I vish I was in Yokohama. Eh? +Vot vas dot?" + +The vessel had suddenly heeled over. The decks were aslant. A tin +pannikin rolled down the inclined plane, rattling and banging. From +above came the slapping of canvas and the quivering rat-tat-tat of the +after leech of the loosely stretched foresail. Then the mate's voice +sang down the hatch, "All hands on deck and make sail!" + +Never had such summons been answered with more enthusiasm. The calm had +broken. The wind had come which was to carry them south into safety. +With a wild cheer all sprang on deck. Working with mad haste, they flung +out topsails, flying jibs and stay-sails. As they worked, the fog-bank +lifted and the black vault of heaven, bespangled with the old familiar +stars, rushed into view. When all was ship-shape, the _Mary Thomas_ +was lying gallantly over on her side to a beam wind and plunging ahead +due south. + +"Steamer's lights ahead on the port bow, sir!" cried the lookout from +his station on the forecastle-head. There was excitement in the man's +voice. + +The captain sent Bub below for his night-glasses. Everybody crowded to +the lee-rail to gaze at the suspicious stranger, which already began to +loom up vague and indistinct. In those unfrequented waters the chance +was one in a thousand that it could be anything else than a Russian +patrol. The captain was still anxiously gazing through the glasses, when +a flash of flame left the stranger's side, followed by the loud report +of a cannon. The worst fears were confirmed. It was a patrol, evidently +firing across the bows of the _Mary Thomas_ in order to make her +heave to. + +"Hard down with your helm!" the captain commanded the steers-man, all +the life gone out of his voice. Then to the crew, "Back over the jib and +foresail! Run down the flying jib! Clew up the foretopsail! And aft here +and swing on to the main-sheet!" + +The _Mary Thomas_ ran into the eye of the wind, lost headway, and +fell to courtesying gravely to the long seas rolling up from the west. + +The cruiser steamed a little nearer and lowered a boat. The sealers +watched in heartbroken silence. They could see the white bulk of the +boat as it was slacked away to the water, and its crew sliding aboard. +They could hear the creaking of the davits and the commands of the +officers. Then the boat sprang away under the impulse of the oars, and +came toward them. The wind had been rising, and already the sea was too +rough to permit the frail craft to lie alongside the tossing schooner; +but watching their chance, and taking advantage of the boarding ropes +thrown to them, an officer and a couple of men clambered aboard. +The boat then sheered off into safety and lay to its oars, a young +midshipman, sitting in the stern and holding the yoke-lines, in charge. + +The officer, whose uniform disclosed his rank as that of second +lieutenant in the Russian navy, went below with the captain of the +_Mary Thomas_ to look at the ship's papers. A few minutes later he +emerged, and upon his sailors removing the hatch-covers, passed down +into the hold with a lantern to inspect the salt piles. It was a goodly +heap which confronted him--fifteen hundred fresh skins, the season's +catch; and under the circumstances he could have had but one conclusion. + +"I am very sorry," he said, in broken English to the sealing captain, +when he again came on deck, "but it is my duty, in the name of the tsar, +to seize your vessel as a poacher caught with fresh skins in the closed +sea. The penalty, as you may know, is confiscation and imprisonment." + +The captain of the _Mary Thomas_ shrugged his shoulders in seeming +indifference, and turned away. Although they may restrain all outward +show, strong men, under unmerited misfortune, are sometimes very close +to tears. Just then the vision of his little California home, and of the +wife and two yellow-haired boys, was strong upon him, and there was a +strange, choking sensation in his throat, which made him afraid that if +he attempted to speak he would sob instead. + +And also there was upon him the duty he owed his men. No weakness before +them, for he must be a tower of strength to sustain them in misfortune. +He had already explained to the second lieutenant, and knew the +hopelessness of the situation. As the sea-lawyer had said, the evidence +was all against him. So he turned aft, and fell to pacing up and down +the poop of the vessel over which he was no longer commander. + +The Russian officer now took temporary charge. He ordered more of his +men aboard, and had all the canvas clewed up and furled snugly away. +While this was being done, the boat plied back and forth between the +two vessels, passing a heavy hawser, which was made fast to the great +towing-bitts on the schooner's forecastle-head. During all this work +the sealers stood about in sullen groups. It was madness to think of +resisting, with the guns of a man-of-war not a biscuit-toss away; but +they refused to lend a hand, preferring instead to maintain a gloomy +silence. + +Having accomplished his task, the lieutenant ordered all but four of his +men back into the boat. Then the midshipman, a lad of sixteen, looking +strangely mature and dignified in his uniform and sword, came aboard to +take command of the captured sealer. Just as the lieutenant prepared to +depart, his eyes chanced to alight upon Bub. Without a word of warning, +he seized him by the arm and dropped him over the rail into the waiting +boat; and then, with a parting wave of his hand, he followed him. + +It was only natural that Bub should be frightened at this unexpected +happening. All the terrible stories he had heard of the Russians served +to make him fear them, and now returned to his mind with double force. +To be captured by them was bad enough, but to be carried off by them, +away from his comrades, was a fate of which he had not dreamed. + +"Be a good boy, Bub," the captain called to him, as the boat drew away +from the _Mary Thomas_'s side, "and tell the truth!" + +"Aye, aye, sir!" he answered, bravely enough, by all outward appearance. +He felt a certain pride of race, and was ashamed to be a coward before +these strange enemies, these wild Russian bears. + +"Und be politeful!" the German boat-steerer added, his rough voice +lifting across the water like a fog-horn. + +Bub waved his hand in farewell, and his mates clustered along the +rail as they answered with a cheering shout. He found room in the +stern-sheets, where he fell to regarding the lieutenant. He didn't look +so wild or bearish, after all--very much like other men, Bub concluded, +and the sailors were much the same as all other man-of-war's men he had +ever known. Nevertheless, as his feet struck the steel deck of the +cruiser, he felt as if he had entered the portals of a prison. + +For a few minutes he was left unheeded. The sailors hoisted the boat up, +and swung it in on the davits. Then great clouds of black smoke poured +out of the funnels, and they were under way--to Siberia, Bub could not +help but think. He saw the _Mary Thomas_ swing abruptly into line +as she took the pressure from the hawser, and her side-lights, red and +green, rose and fell as she was towed through the sea. + +Bub's eyes dimmed at the melancholy sight, but--but just then the +lieutenant came to take him down to the commander, and he straightened +up and set his lips firmly, as if this were a very commonplace affair +and he were used to being sent to Siberia every day in the week. The +cabin in which the commander sat was like a palace compared to the +humble fittings of the _Mary Thomas_, and the commander himself, in +gold lace and dignity, was a most august personage, quite unlike the +simple man who navigated his schooner on the trail of the seal pack. + +Bub now quickly learned why he had been brought aboard, and in the +prolonged questioning which followed, told nothing but the plain truth. +The truth was harmless; only a lie could have injured his cause. He did +not know much, except that they had been sealing far to the south in +open water, and that when the calm and fog came down upon them, being +close to the line, they had drifted across. Again and again he insisted +that they had not lowered a boat or shot a seal in the week they had +been drifting about in the forbidden sea; but the commander chose to +consider all that he said to be a tissue of falsehoods, and adopted a +bullying tone in an effort to frighten the boy. He threatened and +cajoled by turns, but failed in the slightest to shake Bub's statements, +and at last ordered him out of his presence. + +By some oversight, Bub was not put in anybody's charge, and wandered up +on deck unobserved. Sometimes the sailors, in passing, bent curious +glances upon him, but otherwise he was left strictly alone. Nor could he +have attracted much attention, for he was small, the night dark, and the +watch on deck intent on its own business. Stumbling over the strange +decks, he made his way aft where he could look upon the side-lights of +the _Mary Thomas_, following steadily in the rear. + +For a long while he watched, and then lay down in the darkness close to +where the hawser passed over the stern to the captured schooner. Once +an officer came up and examined the straining rope to see if it were +chafing, but Bub cowered away in the shadow undiscovered. This, however, +gave him an idea which concerned the lives and liberties of twenty-two +men, and which was to avert crushing sorrow from more than one happy +home many thousand miles away. + +In the first place, he reasoned, the crew were all guiltless of any +crime, and yet were being carried relentlessly away to imprisonment in +Siberia--a living death, he had heard, and he believed it implicitly. +In the second place, he was a prisoner, hard and fast, with no chance +of escape. In the third, it was possible for the twenty-two men on the +_Mary Thomas_ to escape. The only thing which bound them was a +four-inch hawser. They dared not cut it at their end, for a watch was +sure to be maintained upon it by their Russian captors; but at this end, +ah! at his end---- + +Bub did not stop to reason further. Wriggling close to the hawser, he +opened his jack-knife and went to work, The blade was not very sharp, +and he sawed away, rope-yarn by rope-yarn, the awful picture of the +solitary Siberian exile he must endure growing clearer and more terrible +at every stroke. Such a fate was bad enough to undergo with one's +comrades, but to face it alone seemed frightful. And besides, the very +act he was performing was sure to bring greater punishment upon him. + +In the midst of such somber thoughts, he heard footsteps approaching. +He wriggled away into the shadow. An officer stopped where he had been +working, half-stooped to examine the hawser, then changed his mind and +straightened up. For a few minutes he stood there, gazing at the lights +of the captured schooner, and then went forward again. + +Now was the time! Bub crept back and went on sawing. Now two parts were +severed. Now three. But one remained. The tension upon this was so great +that it readily yielded. Splash! The freed end went overboard. He lay +quietly, his heart in his mouth, listening. No one on the cruiser but +himself had heard. + +He saw the red and green lights of the _Mary Thomas_ grow dimmer +and dimmer. Then a faint hallo came over the water from the Russian +prize crew. Still nobody heard. The smoke continued to pour out of the +cruiser's funnels, and her propellers throbbed as mightily as ever. + +What was happening on the _Mary Thomas_? Bub could only surmise; +but of one thing he was certain: his comrades would assert themselves +and overpower the four sailors and the midshipman. A few minutes later +he saw a small flash, and straining his ears heard the very faint report +of a pistol. Then, oh joy! both the red and green lights suddenly +disappeared. The _Mary Thomas_ was retaken! + +Just as an officer came aft, Bub crept forward, and hid away in +one of the boats. Not an instant too soon. The alarm was given. Loud +voices rose in command. The cruiser altered her course. An electric +search-light began to throw its white rays across the sea, here, there, +everywhere; but in its flashing path no tossing schooner was revealed. + +Bub went to sleep soon after that, nor did he wake till the gray of +dawn. The engines were pulsing monotonously, and the water, splashing +noisily, told him the decks were being washed down. One sweeping glance, +and he saw that they were alone on the expanse of ocean. The _Mary +Thomas_ had escaped. As he lifted his head, a roar of laughter went +up from the sailors. Even the officer, who ordered him taken below and +locked up, could not quite conceal the laughter in his eyes. Bub thought +often in the days of confinement which followed, that they were not very +angry with him for what he had done. + +He was not far from right. There is a certain innate nobility deep down +in the hearts of all men, which forces them to admire a brave act, even +if it is performed by an enemy. The Russians were in nowise different +from other men. True, a boy had outwitted them; but they could not blame +him, and they were sore puzzled as to what to do with him. It would +never do to take a little mite like him in to represent all that +remained of the lost poacher. + +So, two weeks later, a United States man-of-war, steaming out of the +Russian port of Vladivostok, was signaled by a Russian cruiser. A boat +passed between the two ships, and a small boy dropped over the rail upon +the deck of the American vessel. A week later he was put ashore at +Hakodate, and after some telegraphing, his fare was paid on the railroad +to Yokohama. + +From the depot he hurried through the quaint Japanese streets to the +harbor, and hired a _sampan_ boatman to put him aboard a certain +vessel whose familiar rigging had quickly caught his eye. Her gaskets +were off, her sails unfurled; she was just starting back to the United +States. As he came closer, a crowd of sailors sprang upon the forecastle +head, and the windlass-bars rose and fell as the anchor was torn from +its muddy bottom. + +"'Yankee ship come down the ribber!'" the sea-lawyer's voice rolled out +as he led the anchor song. + +"'Pull, my bully boys, pull!'" roared back the old familiar chorus, the +men's bodies lifting and bending to the rhythm. + +Bub Russell paid the boatman and stepped on deck. The anchor was +forgotten. A mighty cheer went up from the men, and almost before he +could catch his breath he was on the shoulders of the captain, +surrounded by his mates, and endeavoring to answer twenty questions to +the second. + +The next day a schooner hove to off a Japanese fishing village, sent +ashore four sailors and a little midshipman, and sailed away. These men +did not talk English, but they had money and quickly made their way to +Yokohama. From that day the Japanese village folk never heard anything +more about them, and they are still a much-talked-of mystery. As the +Russian government never said anything about the incident, the United +States is still ignorant of the whereabouts of the lost poacher, nor has +she ever heard, officially, of the way in which some of her citizens +"shanghaied" five subjects of the tsar. Even nations have secrets +sometimes. + + + + +THE BANKS OF THE SACRAMENTO + + "And it's blow, ye winds, heigh-ho, + For Cal-i-for-ni-o; + For there's plenty of gold so I've been told, + On the banks of the Sacramento!" + + +It was only a little boy, singing in a shrill treble the sea chantey +which seamen sing the wide world over when they man the capstan bars and +break the anchors out for "Frisco" port. It was only a little boy who +had never seen the sea, but two hundred feet beneath him rolled the +Sacramento. "Young" Jerry he was called, after "Old" Jerry, his father, +from whom he had learned the song, as well as received his shock of +bright-red hair, his blue, dancing eyes, and his fair and inevitably +freckled skin. + +For Old Jerry had been a sailor, and had followed the sea till middle +life, haunted always by the words of the ringing chantey. Then one day +he had sung the song in earnest, in an Asiatic port, swinging and +thrilling round the capstan-circle with twenty others. And at San +Francisco he turned his back upon his ship and upon the sea, and went +to behold with his own eyes the banks of the Sacramento. + +He beheld the gold, too, for he found employment at the Yellow Dream +mine, and proved of utmost usefulness in rigging the great ore-cables +across the river and two hundred feet above its surface. + +After that he took charge of the cables and kept them in repair, and ran +them and loved them, and became himself an indispensable fixture of the +Yellow Dream mine. Then he loved pretty Margaret Kelly; but she had left +him and Young Jerry, the latter barely toddling, to take up her last +long sleep in the little graveyard among the great sober pines. + +Old Jerry never went back to the sea. He remained by his cables, and +lavished upon them and Young Jerry all the love of his nature. When evil +days came to the Yellow-Dream, he still remained in the employ of the +company as watchman over the all but abandoned property. + +But this morning he was not visible. Young Jerry only was to be seen, +sitting on the cabin step and singing the ancient chantey. He had cooked +and eaten his breakfast all by himself, and had just come out to take a +look at the world. Twenty feet before him stood the steel drum round +which the endless cable worked. By the drum, snug and fast, was the +ore-car. Following with his eyes the dizzy flight of the cables to the +farther bank, he could see the other drum and the other car. + +The contrivance was worked by gravity, the loaded car crossing the river +by virtue of its own weight, and at the same time dragging the empty car +back. The loaded car being emptied, and the empty car being loaded with +more ore, the performance could be repeated--a performance which had +been repeated tens of thousands of times since the day Old Jerry became +the keeper of the cables. + +Young Jerry broke off his song at the sound of approaching footsteps, A +tall, blue-shirted man, a rifle across the hollow of his arm, came out +from the gloom of the pine-trees. It was Hall, watchman of the Yellow +Dragon mine, the cables of which spanned the Sacramento a mile farther +up. + +"Hello, younker!" was his greeting. "What you doin' here by your +lonesome?" + +"Oh, bachin'," Jerry tried to answer unconcernedly, as if it were a very +ordinary sort of thing. "Dad's away, you see." + +"Where's he gone?" the man asked. + +"San Francisco. Went last night. His brother's dead in the old country, +and he's gone down to see the lawyers. Won't be back till tomorrow +night." + +So spoke Jerry, and with pride, because of the responsibility which had +fallen to him of keeping an eye on the property of the Yellow Dream, and +the glorious adventure of living alone on the cliff above the river and +of cooking his own meals. + +"Well, take care of yourself," Hall said, "and don't monkey with the +cables. I'm goin' to see if I can't pick up a deer in the Cripple Cow +Canon." + +"It's goin' to rain, I think," Jerry said, with mature deliberation. + +"And it's little I mind a wettin'," Hall laughed, as he strode away +among the trees. + +Jerry's prediction concerning rain was more than fulfilled. By ten +o'clock the pines were swaying and moaning, the cabin windows rattling, +and the rain driving by in fierce squalls. At half past eleven he +kindled a fire, and promptly at the stroke of twelve sat down to his +dinner. + +No out-of-doors for him that day, he decided, when he had washed the few +dishes and put them neatly away; and he wondered how wet Hall was and +whether he had succeeded in picking up a deer. + +At one o'clock there came a knock at the door, and when he opened it a +man and a woman staggered in on the breast of a great gust of wind. They +were Mr. and Mrs. Spillane, ranchers, who lived in a lonely valley a +dozen miles back from the river. + +"Where's Hall?" was Spillane's opening speech, and he spoke sharply and +quickly. + +Jerry noted that he was nervous and abrupt in his movements, and that +Mrs. Spillane seemed laboring under some strong anxiety. She was a thin, +washed-out, worked-out woman, whose life of dreary and unending toil had +stamped itself harshly upon her face. It was the same life that had +bowed her husband's shoulders and gnarled his hands and turned his hair +to a dry and dusty gray. + +"He's gone hunting up Cripple Cow," Jerry answered. "Did you want to +cross?" + +The woman began to weep quietly, while Spillane dropped a troubled +exclamation and strode to the window. Jerry joined him in gazing out to +where the cables lost themselves in the thick downpour. + +It was the custom of the backwoods people in that section of country +to cross the Sacramento on the Yellow Dragon cable. For this service a +small toll was charged, which tolls the Yellow Dragon Company applied to +the payment of Hall's wages. + +"We've got to get across, Jerry," Spillane said, at the same time +jerking his thumb over his shoulder in the direction of his wife. "Her +father's hurt at the Clover Leaf. Powder explosion. Not expected to +live. We just got word." + +Jerry felt himself fluttering inwardly. He knew that Spillane wanted to +cross on the Yellow Dream cable, and in the absence of his father he +felt that he dared not assume such a responsibility, for the cable had +never been used for passengers; in fact, had not been used at all for a +long time. + +"Maybe Hall will be back soon," he said. + +Spillane shook his head, and demanded, "Where's your father?" + +"San Francisco," Jerry answered, briefly. + +Spillane groaned, and fiercely drove his clenched fist into the palm of +the other hand. His wife was crying more audibly, and Jerry could hear +her murmuring, "And daddy's dyin', dyin'!" + +The tears welled up in his own eyes, and he stood irresolute, not +knowing what he should do. But the man decided for him. + +"Look here, kid," he said, with determination, "the wife and me are +goin' over on this here cable of yours! Will you run it for us?" + +Jerry backed slightly away. He did it unconsciously, as if recoiling +instinctively from something unwelcome. + +"Better see if Hall's back," he suggested. + +"And if he ain't?" + +Again Jerry hesitated. + +"I'll stand for the risk," Spillane added. "Don't you see, kid, we've +simply got to cross!" + +Jerry nodded his head reluctantly. + +"And there ain't no use waitin' for Hall," Spillane went on. "You know +as well as me he ain't back from Cripple Cow this time of day! So come +along and let's get started." + +No wonder that Mrs. Spillane seemed terrified as they helped her +into the ore-car--so Jerry thought, as he gazed into the apparently +fathomless gulf beneath her. For it was so filled with rain and cloud, +hurtling and curling in the fierce blast, that the other shore, seven +hundred feet away, was invisible, while the cliff at their feet dropped +sheer down and lost itself in the swirling vapor. By all appearances it +might be a mile to bottom instead of two hundred feet. + +"All ready?" he asked. + +"Let her go!" Spillane shouted, to make himself heard above the roar of +the wind. + +He had clambered in beside his wife, and was holding one of her hands in +his. + +Jerry looked upon this with disapproval. "You'll need all your hands for +holdin' on, the way the wind's yowlin.'" + +The man and the woman shifted their hands accordingly, tightly gripping +the sides of the car, and Jerry slowly and carefully released the brake. +The drum began to revolve as the endless cable passed round it, and the +car slid slowly out into the chasm, its trolley wheels rolling on the +stationary cable overhead, to which it was suspended. + +It was not the first time Jerry had worked the cable, but it was the +first time he had done so away from the supervising eye of his father. +By means of the brake he regulated the speed of the car. It needed +regulating, for at times, caught by the stronger gusts of wind, it +swayed violently back and forth; and once, just before it was swallowed +up in a rain squall, it seemed about to spill out its human contents. + +After that Jerry had no way of knowing where the car was except by means +of the cable. This he watched keenly as it glided around the drum. +"Three hundred feet," he breathed to himself, as the cable markings went +by, "three hundred and fifty, four hundred; four hundred and----" + +The cable had stopped. Jerry threw off the brake, but it did not move. +He caught the cable with his hands and tried to start it by tugging +smartly. Something had gone wrong. What? He could not guess; he could +not see. Looking up, he could vaguely make out the empty car, which had +been crossing from the opposite cliff at a speed equal to that of the +loaded car. It was about two hundred and fifty feet away. That meant, he +knew, that somewhere in the gray obscurity, two hundred feet above the +river and two hundred and fifty feet from the other bank, Spillane and +his wife were suspended and stationary. + +Three times Jerry shouted with all the shrill force of his lungs, but +no answering cry came out of the storm. It was impossible for him to +hear them or to make himself heard. As he stood for a moment, thinking +rapidly, the flying clouds seemed to thin and lift. He caught a brief +glimpse of the swollen Sacramento beneath, and a briefer glimpse of the +car and the man and woman. Then the clouds descended thicker than ever. + +The boy examined the drum closely, and found nothing the matter with it. +Evidently it was the drum on the other side that had gone wrong. He was +appalled at thought of the man and woman out there in the midst of the +storm, hanging over the abyss, rocking back and forth in the frail car +and ignorant of what was taking place on shore. And he did not like to +think of their hanging there while he went round by the Yellow Dragon +cable to the other drum. + +But he remembered a block and tackle in the tool-house, and ran and +brought it. They were double blocks, and he murmured aloud, "A purchase +of four," as he made the tackle fast to the endless cable. Then he +heaved upon it, heaved until it seemed that his arms were being drawn +out from their sockets and that his shoulder muscles would be ripped +asunder. Yet the cable did not budge. Nothing remained but to cross over +to the other side. + +He was already soaking wet, so he did not mind the rain as he ran over +the trail to the Yellow Dragon. The storm was with him, and it was easy +going, although there was no Hall at the other end of it to man the +brake for him and regulate the speed of the car. This he did for +himself, however, by means of a stout rope, which he passed, with a +turn, round the stationary cable. + +As the full force of the wind struck him in mid-air, swaying the cable +and whistling and roaring past it, and rocking and careening the car, he +appreciated more fully what must be the condition of mind of Spillane +and his wife. And this appreciation gave strength to him, as, safely +across, he fought his way up the other bank, in the teeth of the gale, +to the Yellow Dream cable. + +To his consternation, he found the drum in thorough working order. +Everything was running smoothly at both ends. Where was the hitch? In +the middle, without a doubt. + +From this side, the car containing Spillane was only two hundred and +fifty feet away. He could make out the man and woman through the +whirling vapor, crouching in the bottom of the car and exposed to the +pelting rain and the full fury of the wind. In a lull between the +squalls he shouted to Spillane to examine the trolley of the car. + +Spillane heard, for he saw him rise up cautiously on his knees, and with +his hands go over both trolley-wheels. Then he turned his face toward +the bank. + +"She's all right, kid!" + +Jerry heard the words, faint and far, as from a remote distance. Then +what was the matter? Nothing remained but the other and empty car, which +he could not see, but which he knew to be there, somewhere in that +terrible gulf two hundred feet beyond Spillane's car. + +His mind was made up on the instant. He was only fourteen years old, +slightly and wirily built; but his life had been lived among the +mountains, his father had taught him no small measure of "sailoring," +and he was not particularly afraid of heights. + +In the tool-box by the drum he found an old monkey-wrench and a short +bar of iron, also a coil of fairly new Manila rope. He looked in vain +for a piece of board with which to rig a "boatswain's chair." There was +nothing at hand but large planks, which he had no means of sawing, so he +was compelled to do without the more comfortable form of saddle. + +The saddle he rigged was very simple. With the rope he made merely a +large loop round the stationary cable, to which hung the empty car. When +he sat in the loop his hands could just reach the cable conveniently, +and where the rope was likely to fray against the cable he lashed his +coat, in lieu of the old sack he would have used had he been able to +find one. + +These preparations swiftly completed, he swung out over the chasm, +sitting in the rope saddle and pulling himself along the cable by his +hands. With him he carried the monkey-wrench and short iron bar and a +few spare feet of rope. It was a slightly up-hill pull, but this he did +not mind so much as the wind. When the furious gusts hurled him back and +forth, sometimes half twisting him about, and he gazed down into the +gray depths, he was aware that he was afraid. It was an old cable. What +if it should break under his weight and the pressure of the wind? + +It was fear he was experiencing, honest fear, and he knew that there was +a "gone" feeling in the pit of his stomach, and a trembling of the knees +which he could not quell. + +But he held himself bravely to the task. The cable was old and worn, +sharp pieces of wire projected from it, and his hands were cut and +bleeding by the time he took his first rest, and held a shouted +conversation with Spillane. The car was directly beneath him and only a +few feet away, so he was able to explain the condition of affairs and +his errand. + +"Wish I could help you," Spillane shouted at him as he started on, "but +the wife's gone all to pieces! Anyway, kid, take care of yourself! I got +myself in this fix, but it's up to you to get me out!" + +"Oh, I'll do it!" Jerry shouted back. "Tell Mrs. Spillane that she'll be +ashore now in a jiffy!" + +In the midst of pelting rain, which half-blinded him, swinging from side +to side like a rapid and erratic pendulum, his torn hands paining him +severely and his lungs panting from his exertions and panting from the +very air which the wind sometimes blew into his mouth with strangling +force, he finally arrived at the empty car. + +A single glance showed him that he had not made the dangerous journey in +vain. The front trolley-wheel, loose from long wear, had jumped the +cable, and the cable was now jammed tightly between the wheel and the +sheave-block. + +One thing was clear--the wheel must be removed from the block. A second +thing was equally clear--while the wheel was being removed the car would +have to be fastened to the cable by the rope he had brought. + +At the end of a quarter of an hour, beyond making the car secure, he +had accomplished nothing. The key which bound the wheel on its axle was +rusted and jammed. He hammered at it with one hand and held on the best +he could with the other, but the wind persisted in swinging and twisting +his body, and made his blows miss more often than not. Nine-tenths of +the strength he expended was in trying to hold himself steady. For fear +that he might drop the monkey-wrench he made it fast to his wrist with +his handkerchief. + +At the end of half an hour Jerry had hammered the key clear, but he +could not draw it out. A dozen times it seemed that he must give up +in despair, that all the danger and toil he had gone through were for +nothing. Then an idea came to him, and he went through his pockets with +feverish haste, and found what he sought--a ten-penny nail. + +But for that nail, put in his pocket he knew not when or why, he would +have had to make another trip over the cable and back. Thrusting the +nail through the looped head of the key, he at last had a grip, and in +no time the key was out. + +Then came punching and prying with the iron bar to get the wheel itself +free from where it was jammed by the cable against the side of the +block. After that Jerry replaced the wheel, and by means of the rope, +heaved up on the car till the trolley once more rested properly on the +cable. + +All this took time. More than an hour and a half had elapsed since his +arrival at the empty car. And now, for the first time, he dropped out of +his saddle and down into the car. He removed the detaining ropes, and +the trolley-wheels began slowly to revolve. The car was moving, and he +knew that somewhere beyond, although he could not see, the car of +Spillane was likewise moving, and in the opposite direction. + +There was no need for a brake, for his weight sufficiently +counterbalanced the weight in the other car; and soon he saw the cliff +rising out of the cloud depths and the old familiar drum going round and +round. + +Jerry climbed out and made the car securely fast. He did it deliberately +and carefully, and then, quite unhero-like, he sank down by the drum, +regardless of the pelting storm, and burst out sobbing. + +There were many reasons why he sobbed--partly from the pain of his +hands, which was excruciating; partly from exhaustion; partly from +relief and release from the nerve-tension he had been under for so long; +and in a large measure from thankfulness that the man and woman were +saved. + +They were not there to thank him; but somewhere beyond that howling, +storm-driven gulf he knew they were hurrying over the trail toward the +Clover Leaf. + +Jerry staggered to the cabin, and his hand left the white knob red with +blood as he opened the door, but he took no notice of it. + +He was too proudly contented with himself, for he was certain that he +had done well, and he was honest enough to admit to himself that he had +done well. But a small regret arose and persisted in his thoughts--if +his father had only been there to see! + + + + +CHRIS FARRINGTON: ABLE SEAMAN + + +"If you vas in der old country ships, a liddle shaver like you vood pe +only der boy, und you vood wait on der able seamen. Und ven der able +seaman sing out, 'Boy, der water-jug!' you vood jump quick, like a shot, +und bring der water-jug. Und ven der able seaman sing out, 'Boy, my +boots!' you vood get der boots. Und you vood pe politeful, und say +'Yessir' und 'No sir.' But you pe in der American ship, und you t'ink +you are so good as der able seamen. Chris, mine boy, I haf ben a +sailorman for twenty-two years, und do you t'ink you are so good as me? +I vas a sailorman pefore you vas borned, und I knot und reef und splice +ven you play mit topstrings und fly kites." + +"But you are unfair, Emil!" cried Chris Farrington, his sensitive face +flushed and hurt. He was a slender though strongly built young fellow of +seventeen, with Yankee ancestry writ large all over him. + +"Dere you go vonce again!" the Swedish sailor exploded. "My name is +Mister Johansen, und a kid of a boy like you call me 'Emil!' It vas +insulting, und comes pecause of der American ship!" + +"But you call me 'Chris!'" the boy expostulated, reproachfully. + +"But you vas a boy." + +"Who does a man's work," Chris retorted. "And because I do a man's work +I have as much right to call you by your first name as you me. We are +all equals in this fo'castle, and you know it. When we signed for the +voyage in San Francisco, we signed as sailors on the _Sophie +Sutherland_ and there was no difference made with any of us. Haven't +I always done my work? Did I ever shirk? Did you or any other man ever +have to take a wheel for me? Or a lookout? Or go aloft?" + +"Chris is right," interrupted a young English sailor. "No man has had to +do a tap of his work yet. He signed as good as any of us, and he's shown +himself as good--" + +"Better!" broke in a Nova Scotia man. "Better than some of us! When +we struck the sealing-grounds he turned out to be next to the best +boat-steerer aboard. Only French Louis, who'd been at it for years, +could beat him. I'm only a boat-puller, and you're only a boat-puller, +too, Emil Johansen, for all your twenty-two years at sea. Why don't you +become a boat-steerer?" + +"Too clumsy," laughed the Englishman, "and too slow." + +"Little that counts, one way or the other," joined in Dane Jurgensen, +coming to the aid of his Scandinavian brother. "Emil is a man grown and +an able seaman; the boy is neither." + +And so the argument raged back and forth, the Swedes, Norwegians and +Danes, because of race kinship, taking the part of Johansen, and the +English, Canadians and Americans taking the part of Chris. From an +unprejudiced point of view, the right was on the side of Chris. As he +had truly said, he did a man's work, and the same work that any of them +did. But they were prejudiced, and badly so, and out of the words which +passed rose a standing quarrel which divided the forecastle into two +parties. + + * * * * * + +The _Sophie Sutherland_ was a seal-hunter, registered out of San +Francisco, and engaged in hunting the furry sea-animals along the +Japanese coast north to Bering Sea. The other vessels were two-masted +schooners, but she was a three-master and the largest in the fleet. In +fact, she was a full-rigged, three-topmast schooner, newly built. + +Although Chris Farrington knew that justice was with him, and that he +performed all his work faithfully and well, many a time, in secret +thought, he longed for some pressing emergency to arise whereby he could +demonstrate to the Scandinavian seamen that he also was an able seaman. + +But one stormy night, by an accident for which he was in nowise +accountable, in overhauling a spare anchor-chain he had all the fingers +of his left hand badly crushed. And his hopes were likewise crushed, for +it was impossible for him to continue hunting with the boats, and he was +forced to stay idly aboard until his fingers should heal. Yet, although +he little dreamed it, this very accident was to give him the +long-looked-for opportunity. + +One afternoon in the latter part of May the _Sophie Sutherland_ +rolled sluggishly in a breathless calm. The seals were abundant, the +hunting good, and the boats were all away and out of sight. And with +them was almost every man of the crew. Besides Chris, there remained +only the captain, the sailing-master and the Chinese cook. + +The captain was captain only by courtesy. He was an old man, past +eighty, and blissfully ignorant of the sea and its ways; but he was the +owner of the vessel, and hence the honorable title. Of course the +sailing-master, who was really captain, was a thorough-going seaman. The +mate, whose post was aboard, was out with the boats, having temporarily +taken Chris's place as boat-steerer. + +When good weather and good sport came together, the boats were +accustomed to range far and wide, and often did not return to the +schooner until long after dark. But for all that it was a perfect +hunting day, Chris noted a growing anxiety on the part of the +sailing-master. He paced the deck nervously, and was constantly sweeping +the horizon with his marine glasses. Not a boat was in sight. As sunset +arrived, he even sent Chris aloft to the mizzen-topmast-head, but with +no better luck. The boats could not possibly be back before midnight. + +Since noon the barometer had been falling with startling rapidity, and +all the signs were ripe for a great storm--how great, not even the +sailing-master anticipated. He and Chris set to work to prepare for +it. They put storm gaskets on the furled topsails, lowered and stowed +the foresail and spanker and took in the two inner jibs. In the one +remaining jib they put a single reef, and a single reef in the mainsail. + +Night had fallen before they finished, and with the darkness came the +storm. A low moan swept over the sea, and the wind struck the _Sophie +Sutherland_ flat. But she righted quickly, and with the sailing-master +at the wheel, sheered her bow into within five points of the wind. +Working as well as he could with his bandaged hand, and with the feeble +aid of the Chinese cook, Chris went forward and backed the jib over to +the weather side. This with the flat mainsail, left the schooner hove to. + +"God help the boats! It's no gale! It's a typhoon!" the sailing-master +shouted to Chris at eleven o'clock. "Too much canvas! Got to get two +more reefs into that mainsail, and got to do it right away!" He glanced +at the old captain, shivering in oilskins at the binnacle and holding on +for dear life. "There's only you and I, Chris--and the cook; but he's +next to worthless!" + +In order to make the reef, it was necessary to lower the mainsail, and +the removal of this after pressure was bound to make the schooner fall +off before the wind and sea because of the forward pressure of the jib. + +"Take the wheel!" the sailing-master directed. "And when I give the +word, hard up with it! And when she's square before it, steady her! And +keep her there! We'll heave to again as soon as I get the reefs in!" + +Gripping the kicking spokes, Chris watched him and the reluctant cook go +forward into the howling darkness. The _Sophie Sutherland_ was +plunging into the huge head-seas and wallowing tremendously, the tense +steel stays and taut rigging humming like harp-strings to the wind. A +buffeted cry came to his ears, and he felt the schooner's bow paying off +of its own accord. The mainsail was down! + +He ran the wheel hard-over and kept anxious track of the changing +direction of the wind on his face and of the heave of the vessel. This +was the crucial moment. In performing the evolution she would have to +pass broadside to the surge before she could get before it. The wind was +blowing directly on his right cheek, when he felt the _Sophie +Sutherland_ lean over and begin to rise toward the sky--up--up--an +infinite distance! Would she clear the crest of the gigantic wave? + +Again by the feel of it, for he could see nothing, he knew that a wall +of water was rearing and curving far above him along the whole weather +side. There was an instant's calm as the liquid wall intervened and shut +off the wind. The schooner righted, and for that instant seemed at +perfect rest. Then she rolled to meet the descending rush. + +Chris shouted to the captain to hold tight, and prepared himself for the +shock. But the man did not live who could face it. An ocean of water +smote Chris's back and his clutch on the spokes was loosened as if it +were a baby's. Stunned, powerless, like a straw on the face of a +torrent, he was swept onward he knew not whither. Missing the corner of +the cabin, he was dashed forward along the poop runway a hundred feet or +more, striking violently against the foot of the foremast. A second +wave, crushing inboard, hurled him back the way he had come, and left +him half-drowned where the poop steps should have been. + +Bruised and bleeding, dimly conscious, he felt for the rail and dragged +himself to his feet. Unless something could be done, he knew the last +moment had come. As he faced the poop, the wind drove into his mouth +with suffocating force. This brought him back to his senses with a +start. The wind was blowing from dead aft! The schooner was out of the +trough and before it! But the send of the sea was bound to breach her to +again. Crawling up the runway, he managed to get to the wheel just in +time to prevent this. The binnacle light was still burning. They were +safe! + +That is, he and the schooner were safe. As to the welfare of his three +companions he could not say. Nor did he dare leave the wheel in order to +find out, for it took every second of his undivided attention to keep +the vessel to her course. The least fraction of carelessness and the +heave of the sea under the quarter was liable to thrust her into the +trough. So, a boy of one hundred and forty pounds, he clung to his +herculean task of guiding the two hundred straining tons of fabric amid +the chaos of the great storm forces. + +Half an hour later, groaning and sobbing, the captain crawled to Chris's +feet. All was lost, he whimpered. He was smitten unto death. The galley +had gone by the board, the mainsail and running-gear, the cook, +everything! + +"Where's the sailing-master?" Chris demanded when he had caught his +breath after steadying a wild lurch of the schooner. It was no child's +play to steer a vessel under single-reefed jib before a typhoon. + +"Clean up for'ard," the old man replied. "Jammed under the +fo'c'sle-head, but still breathing. Both his arms are broken, he says, +and he doesn't know how many ribs. He's hurt bad." + +"Well, he'll drown there the way she's shipping water through the +hawse-pipes. Go for'ard!" Chris commanded, taking charge of things as a +matter of course. "Tell him not to worry; that I'm at the wheel. Help +him as much as you can, and make him help"--he stopped and ran the +spokes to starboard as a tremendous billow rose under the stern and +yawed the schooner to port--"and make him help himself for the rest. +Unship the fo'castle hatch and get him down into a bunk. Then ship the +hatch again." + +The captain turned his aged face forward and wavered pitifully. The +waist of the ship was full of water to the bulwarks. He had just come +through it, and knew death lurked every inch of the way. + +"Go!" Chris shouted, fiercely. And as the fear-stricken man started, +"And take another look for the cook!" + +Two hours later, almost dead from suffering, the captain returned. He +had obeyed orders. The sailing-master was helpless, although safe in a +bunk; the cook was gone. Chris sent the captain below to the cabin to +change his clothes. + +After interminable hours of toil, day broke cold and gray. Chris looked +about him. The _Sophie Sutherland_ was racing before the typhoon +like a thing possessed. There was no rain, but the wind whipped the +spray of the sea mast-high, obscuring everything except in the immediate +neighborhood. + +Two waves only could Chris see at a time--the one before and the one +behind. So small and insignificant the schooner seemed on the long +Pacific roll! Rushing up a maddening mountain, she would poise like a +cockle-shell on the giddy summit, breathless and rolling, leap outward +and down into the yawning chasm beneath, and bury herself in the smother +of foam at the bottom. Then the recovery, another mountain, another +sickening upward rush, another poise, and the downward crash. Abreast of +him, to starboard, like a ghost of the storm, Chris saw the cook dashing +apace with the schooner. Evidently, when washed overboard, he had +grasped and become entangled in a trailing halyard. + +For three hours more, alone with this gruesome companion, Chris held the +_Sophie Sutherland_ before the wind and sea. He had long since +forgotten his mangled fingers. The bandages had been torn away, and the +cold, salt spray had eaten into the half-healed wounds until they were +numb and no longer pained. But he was not cold. The terrific labor of +steering forced the perspiration from every pore. Yet he was faint and +weak with hunger and exhaustion, and hailed with delight the advent on +deck of the captain, who fed him all of a pound of cake-chocolate. It +strengthened him at once. + +He ordered the captain to cut the halyard by which the cook's body was +towing, and also to go forward and cut loose the jib-halyard and sheet. +When he had done so, the jib fluttered a couple of moments like a +handkerchief, then tore out of the bolt-ropes and vanished. The +_Sophie Sutherland_ was running under bare poles. + +By noon the storm had spent itself, and by six in the evening the waves +had died down sufficiently to let Chris leave the helm. It was almost +hopeless to dream of the small boats weathering the typhoon, but there +is always the chance in saving human life, and Chris at once applied +himself to going back over the course along which he had fled. He +managed to get a reef in one of the inner jibs and two reefs in the +spanker, and then, with the aid of the watch-tackle, to hoist them to +the stiff breeze that yet blew. And all through the night, tacking back +and forth on the back track, he shook out canvas as fast as the wind +would permit. + +The injured sailing-master had turned delirious and between tending him +and lending a hand with the ship, Chris kept the captain busy. "Taught +me more seamanship," as he afterward said, "than I'd learned on the +whole voyage." But by daybreak the old man's feeble frame succumbed, and +he fell off into exhausted sleep on the weather poop. + +Chris, who could now lash the wheel, covered the tired man with blankets +from below, and went fishing in the lazaretto for something to eat. +But by the day following he found himself forced to give in, drowsing +fitfully by the wheel and waking ever and anon to take a look at things. + +On the afternoon of the third day he picked up a schooner, dismasted and +battered. As he approached, close-hauled on the wind, he saw her decks +crowded by an unusually large crew, and on sailing in closer, made out +among others the faces of his missing comrades. And he was just in the +nick of time, for they were fighting a losing fight at the pumps. An +hour later they, with the crew of the sinking craft, were aboard the +_Sophie Sutherland_. + +Having wandered so far from their own vessel, they had taken refuge on +the strange schooner just before the storm broke. She was a Canadian +sealer on her first voyage, and as was now apparent, her last. + +The captain of the _Sophie Sutherland_ had a story to tell, also, +and he told it well--so well, in fact, that when all hands were gathered +together on deck during the dog-watch, Emil Johansen strode over to +Chris and gripped him by the hand. + +"Chris," he said, so loudly that all could hear, "Chris, I gif in. You +vas yoost so good a sailorman as I. You vas a bully boy, und able +seaman, und I pe proud for you! + +"Und Chris!" He turned as if he had forgotten something, and called +back, "From dis time always you call me 'Emil' mitout der 'Mister!'" + + + + +TO REPEL BOARDERS + + +"No; honest, now, Bob, I'm sure I was born too late. The twentieth +century's no place for me. If I'd had my way----" + +"You'd have been born in the sixteenth," I broke in, laughing, "with +Drake and Hawkins and Raleigh and the rest of the sea-kings." + +"You're right!" Paul affirmed. He rolled over upon his back on the +little after-deck, with a long sigh of dissatisfaction. + +It was a little past midnight, and, with the wind nearly astern, we were +running down Lower San Francisco Bay to Bay Farm Island. Paul Fairfax +and I went to the same school, lived next door to each other, and +"chummed it" together. By saving money, by earning more, and by +each of us foregoing a bicycle on his birthday, we had collected +the purchase-price of the _Mist_, a beamy twenty-eight-footer, +sloop-rigged, with baby topsail and centerboard. Paul's father was a +yachtsman himself, and he had conducted the business for us, poking +around, overhauling, sticking his penknife into the timbers, and testing +the planks with the greatest care. In fact, it was on his schooner, +the _Whim_, that Paul and I had picked up what we knew about +boat-sailing, and now that the _Mist_ was ours, we were hard at +work adding to our knowledge. + +The _Mist_, being broad of beam, was comfortable and roomy. +A man could stand upright in the cabin, and what with the stove, +cooking-utensils, and bunks, we were good for trips in her of a week at +a time. And we were just starting out on the first of such trips, and it +was because it was the first trip that we were sailing by night. Early +in the evening we had beaten out from Oakland, and we were now off the +mouth of Alameda Creek, a large salt-water estuary which fills and +empties San Leandro Bay. + +"Men lived in those days," Paul said, so suddenly as to startle me from +my own thoughts. "In the days of the sea-kings, I mean," he explained. + +I said "Oh!" sympathetically, and began to whistle "Captain Kidd." + +"Now, I've my ideas about things," Paul went on. "They talk about +romance and adventure and all that, but I say romance and adventure are +dead. We're too civilized. We don't have adventures in the twentieth +century. We go to the circus----" + +"But----" I strove to interrupt, though he would not listen to me. + +"You look here, Bob," he said. "In all the time you and I've gone +together what adventures have we had? True, we were out in the hills +once, and didn't get back till late at night, and we were good and +hungry, but we weren't even lost. We knew where we were all the time. It +was only a case of walk. What I mean is, we've never had to fight for +our lives. Understand? We've never had a pistol fired at us, or a +cannon, or a sword waving over our heads, or--or anything.... + +"You'd better slack away three or four feet of that main-sheet," he said +in a hopeless sort of way, as though it did not matter much anyway. "The +wind's still veering around. + +"Why, in the old times the sea was one constant glorious adventure," +he continued. "A boy left school and became a midshipman, and in a few +weeks was cruising after Spanish galleons or locking yard-arms with a +French privateer, or--doing lots of things." + +"Well--there _are_ adventures today," I objected. + +But Paul went on as though I had not spoken: + +"And today we go from school to high school, and from high school to +college, and then we go into the office or become doctors and things, +and the only adventures we know about are the ones we read in books. +Why, just as sure as I'm sitting here on the stern of the sloop +_Mist_, just so sure am I that we wouldn't know what to do if a +real adventure came along. Now, would we?" + +"Oh, I don't know," I answered non-committally. + +"Well, you wouldn't be a coward, would you?" he demanded. + +I was sure I wouldn't and said so. + +"But you don't have to be a coward to lose your head, do you?" + +I agreed that brave men might get excited. + +"Well, then," Paul summed up, with a note of regret in his voice, "the +chances are that we'd spoil the adventure. So it's a shame, and that's +all I can say about it." + +"The adventure hasn't come yet," I answered, not caring to see him down +in the mouth over nothing. You see, Paul was a peculiar fellow in some +things, and I knew him pretty well. He read a good deal, and had a quick +imagination, and once in a while he'd get into moods like this one. So I +said, "The adventure hasn't come yet, so there's no use worrying about +its being spoiled. For all we know, it might turn out splendidly." + +Paul didn't say anything for some time, and I was thinking he was out of +the mood, when he spoke up suddenly: + +"Just imagine, Bob Kellogg, as we're sailing along now, just as we are, +and never mind what for, that a boat should bear down upon us with armed +men in it, what would you do to repel boarders? Think you could rise to +it?" + +"What would _you_ do?" I asked pointedly. "Remember, we haven't +even a single shotgun aboard." + +"You would surrender, then?" he demanded angrily. "But suppose they were +going to kill you?" + +"I'm not saying what I'd do," I answered stiffly, beginning to get a +little angry myself. "I'm asking what you'd do, without weapons of any +sort?" + +"I'd find something," he replied--rather shortly, I thought. + +I began to chuckle. "Then the adventure wouldn't be spoiled, would it? +And you've been talking rubbish." + +Paul struck a match, looked at his watch, and remarked that it was +nearly one o'clock--a way he had when the argument went against him. +Besides, this was the nearest we ever came to quarreling now, though +our share of squabbles had fallen to us in the earlier days of our +friendship. I had just seen a little white light ahead when Paul +spoke again. + +"Anchor-light," he said. "Funny place for people to drop the hook. It +may be a scow-schooner with a dinky astern, so you'd better go wide." + +I eased the _Mist_ several points, and, the wind puffing up, we +went plowing along at a pretty fair speed, passing the light so wide +that we could not make out what manner of craft it marked. Suddenly the +_Mist_ slacked up in a slow and easy way, as though running upon +soft mud. We were both startled. The wind was blowing stronger than +ever, and yet we were almost at a standstill. + +"Mud-flat out here? Never heard of such a thing!" + +So Paul exclaimed with a snort of unbelief, and, seizing an oar, shoved +it down over the side. And straight down it went till the water wet +his hand. There was no bottom! Then we were dumbfounded. The wind was +whistling by, and still the _Mist_ was moving ahead at a snail's +pace. There seemed something dead about her, and it was all I could do +at the tiller to keep her from swinging up into the wind. + +"Listen!" I laid my hand on Paul's arm. We could hear the sound of +rowlocks, and saw the little white light bobbing up and down and now +very close to us. "There's your armed boat," I whispered in fun. +"Beat the crew to quarters and stand by to repel boarders!" + +We both laughed, and were still laughing when a wild scream of rage came +out of the darkness, and the approaching boat shot under our stern. +By the light of the lantern it carried we could see the two men in it +distinctly. They were foreign-looking fellows with sun-bronzed faces, +and with knitted tam-o'-shanters perched seaman fashion on their heads. +Bright-colored woolen sashes were around their waists, and long +sea-boots covered their legs. I remember yet the cold chill which passed +along my backbone as I noted the tiny gold ear-rings in the ears of one. +For all the world they were like pirates stepped out of the pages of +romance. And, to make the picture complete, their faces were distorted +with anger, and each flourished a long knife. They were both shouting, +in high-pitched voices, some foreign jargon we could not understand. + +One of them, the smaller of the two, and if anything the more +vicious-looking, put his hands on the rail of the _Mist_ and +started to come aboard. Quick as a flash Paul placed the end of the oar +against the man's chest and shoved him back into his boat. He fell in a +heap, but scrambled to his feet, waving the knife and shrieking: + +"You break-a my net-a! You break-a my net-a!" + +And he held forth in the jargon again, his companion joining him, and +both preparing to make another dash to come aboard the _Mist_. + +"They're Italian fishermen," I cried, the facts of the case breaking in +upon me. "We've run over their smelt-net, and it's slipped along the +keel and fouled our rudder. We're anchored to it." + +"Yes, and they're murderous chaps, too," Paul said, sparring at them +with the oar to make them keep their distance. + +"Say, you fellows!" he called to them. "Give us a chance and we'll get +it clear for you! We didn't know your net was there. We didn't mean to +do it, you know!" + +"You won't lose anything!" I added. "We'll pay the damages!" + +But they could not understand what we were saying, or did not care to +understand. + +"You break-a my net-a! You break-a my net-a!" the smaller man, the one +with the earrings, screamed back, making furious gestures. "I fix-a you! +You-a see, I fix-a you!" + +This time, when Paul thrust him back, he seized the oar in his hands, +and his companion jumped aboard. I put my back against the tiller, and +no sooner had he landed, and before he had caught his balance, than I +met him with another oar, and he fell heavily backward into the boat. It +was getting serious, and when he arose and caught my oar, and I realized +his strength, I confess that I felt a goodly tinge of fear. But though +he was stronger than I, instead of dragging me overboard when he +wrenched on the oar, he merely pulled his boat in closer; and when +I shoved, the boat was forced away. Besides, the knife, still in his +right hand, made him awkward and somewhat counterbalanced the advantage +his superior strength gave him. Paul and his enemy were in the same +situation--a sort of deadlock, which continued for several seconds, but +which could not last. Several times I shouted that we would pay for +whatever damage their net had suffered, but my words seemed to be +without effect. + +Then my man began to tuck the oar under his arm, and to come up along +it, slowly, hand over hand. The small man did the same with Paul. Moment +by moment they came closer, and closer, and we knew that the end was +only a question of time. + +"Hard up, Bob!" Paul called softly to me. + +I gave him a quick glance, and caught an instant's glimpse of what I +took to be a very pale face and a very set jaw. + +"Oh, Bob," he pleaded, "hard up your helm! Hard up your helm, Bob!" + +And his meaning dawned upon me. Still holding to my end of the oar, I +shoved the tiller over with my back, and even bent my body to keep it +over. As it was the _Mist_ was nearly dead before the wind, and +this maneuver was bound to force her to jibe her mainsail from one side +to the other. I could tell by the "feel" when the wind spilled out of +the canvas and the boom tilted up. Paul's man had now gained a footing +on the little deck, and my man was just scrambling up. + +"Look out!" I shouted to Paul. "Here she comes!" + +Both he and I let go the oars and tumbled into the cockpit. The next +instant the big boom and the heavy blocks swept over our heads, the +main-sheet whipping past like a great coiling snake and the _Mist_ +heeling over with a violent jar. Both men had jumped for it, but in some +way the little man either got his knife-hand jammed or fell upon it, for +the first sight we caught of him, he was standing in his boat, his +bleeding fingers clasped close between his knees and his face all +twisted with pain and helpless rage. + +"Now's our chance!" Paul whispered. "Over with you!" + +And on either side of the rudder we lowered ourselves into the water, +pressing the net down with our feet, till, with a jerk, it went clear, +Then it was up and in, Paul at the main-sheet and I at the tiller, the +_Mist_ plunging ahead with freedom in her motion, and the little +white light astern growing small and smaller. + +"Now that you've had your adventure, do you feel any better?" I remember +asking when we had changed our clothes and were sitting dry and +comfortable again in the cockpit. + +"Well, if I don't have the nightmare for a week to come"--Paul paused +and puckered his brows in judicial fashion--"it will be because I can't +sleep, that's one thing sure!" + + + + +AN ADVENTURE IN THE UPPER SEA + + +I am a retired captain of the upper sea. That is to say, when I was a +younger man (which is not so long ago) I was an aeronaut and navigated +that aerial ocean which is all around about us and above us. Naturally +it is a hazardous profession, and naturally I have had many thrilling +experiences, the most thrilling, or at least the most nerve-racking, +being the one I am about to relate. + +It happened before I went in for hydrogen gas balloons, all of varnished +silk, doubled and lined, and all that, and fit for voyages of days +instead of mere hours. The "Little Nassau" (named after the "Great +Nassau" of many years back) was the balloon I was making ascents in at +the time. It was a fair-sized, hot-air affair, of single thickness, good +for an hour's flight or so and capable of attaining an altitude of a +mile or more. It answered my purpose, for my act at the time was making +half-mile parachute jumps at recreation parks and country fairs. I was +in Oakland, a California town, filling a summer's engagement with a +street railway company. The company owned a large park outside the city, +and of course it was to its interest to provide attractions which would +send the townspeople over its line when they went out to get a whiff of +country air. My contract called for two ascensions weekly, and my act +was an especially taking feature, for it was on my days that the largest +crowds were drawn. + +Before you can understand what happened, I must first explain a bit +about the nature of the hot air balloon which is used for parachute +jumping. If you have ever witnessed such a jump, you will remember that +directly the parachute was cut loose the balloon turned upside down, +emptied itself of its smoke and heated air, flattened out and fell +straight down, beating the parachute to the ground. Thus there is no +chasing a big deserted bag for miles and miles across the country, and +much time, as well as trouble, is thereby saved. This maneuver is +accomplished by attaching a weight, at the end of a long rope, to the +top of the balloon. The aeronaut, with his parachute and trapeze, hangs +to the bottom of the balloon, and, weighing more, keeps it right side +down. But when he lets go, the weight attached to the top immediately +drags the top down, and the bottom, which is the open mouth, goes up, +the heated air pouring out. The weight used for this purpose on the +"Little Nassau" was a bag of sand. + +On the particular day I have in mind there was an unusually large crowd +in attendance, and the police had their hands full keeping the people +back. There was much pushing and shoving, and the ropes were bulging +with the pressure of men, women and children. As I came down from the +dressing room I noticed two girls outside the ropes, of about fourteen +and sixteen, and inside the rope a youngster of eight or nine. They +were holding him by the hands, and he was struggling, excitedly and +half in laughter, to get away from them. I thought nothing of it at +the time--just a bit of childish play, no more; and it was only in the +light of after events that the scene was impressed vividly upon me. + +"Keep them cleared out, George!" I called to my assistant. "We don't +want any accidents." + +"Ay," he answered, "that I will, Charley." + +George Guppy had helped me in no end of ascents, and because of his +coolness, judgment and absolute reliability I had come to trust my life +in his hands with the utmost confidence. His business it was to overlook +the inflating of the balloon, and to see that everything about the +parachute was in perfect working order. + +The "Little Nassau" was already filled and straining at the guys. The +parachute lay flat along the ground and beyond it the trapeze. I tossed +aside my overcoat, took my position, and gave the signal to let go. As +you know, the first rush upward from the earth is very sudden, and this +time the balloon, when it first caught the wind, heeled violently over +and was longer than usual in righting. I looked down at the old familiar +sight of the world rushing away from me. And there were the thousands of +people, every face silently upturned. And the silence startled me, for, +as crowds went, this was the time for them to catch their first breath +and send up a roar of applause. But there was no hand-clapping, +whistling, cheering--only silence. And instead, clear as a bell and +distinct, without the slightest shake or quaver, came George's voice +through the megaphone: + +"Ride her down, Charley! Ride the balloon down!" + +What had happened? I waved my hand to show that I had heard, and began +to think. Had something gone wrong with the parachute? Why should I ride +the balloon down instead of making the jump which thousands were waiting +to see? What was the matter? And as I puzzled, I received another start. +The earth was a thousand feet beneath, and yet I heard a child crying +softly, and seemingly very close to hand. And though the "Little Nassau" +was shooting skyward like a rocket, the crying did not grow fainter and +fainter and die away. I confess I was almost on the edge of a funk, +when, unconsciously following up the noise with my eyes, I looked above +me and saw a boy astride the sandbag which was to bring the "Little +Nassau" to earth. And it was the same little boy I had seen struggling +with the two girls--his sisters, as I afterward learned. + +There he was, astride the sandbag and holding on to the rope for +dear life. A puff of wind heeled the balloon slightly, and he swung out +into space for ten or a dozen feet, and back again, fetching up against +the tight canvas with a thud which even shook me, thirty feet or more +beneath. I thought to see him dashed loose, but he clung on and +whimpered. They told me afterward, how, at the moment they were casting +off the balloon, the little fellow had torn away from his sisters, +ducked under the rope, and deliberately jumped astride the sandbag. It +has always been a wonder to me that he was not jerked off in the first +rush. + +Well, I felt sick all over as I looked at him there, and I understood +why the balloon had taken longer to right itself, and why George had +called after me to ride her down. Should I cut loose with the parachute, +the bag would at once turn upside down, empty itself, and begin its +swift descent. The only hope lay in my riding her down and in the boy +holding on. There was no possible way for me to reach him. No man could +climb the slim, closed parachute; and even if a man could, and made the +mouth of the balloon, what could he do? Straight out, and fifteen feet +away, trailed the boy on his ticklish perch, and those fifteen feet were +empty space. + +I thought far more quickly than it takes to tell all this, and realized +on the instant that the boy's attention must be called away from his +terrible danger. Exercising all the self-control I possessed, and +striving to make myself very calm, I said cheerily: + +"Hello, up there, who are you!" + +He looked down at me, choking back his tears and brightening up, but +just then the balloon ran into a cross-current, turned half around and +lay over. This set him swinging back and forth, and he fetched the +canvas another bump. Then he began to cry again. + +"Isn't it great?" I asked heartily, as though it was the most enjoyable +thing in the world; and, without waiting for him to answer: "What's your +name?" + +"Tommy Dermott," he answered. + +"Glad to make your acquaintance, Tommy Dermott," I went on. "But I'd +like to know who said you could ride up with me?" + +He laughed and said he just thought he'd ride up for the fun of it. And +so we went on, I sick with fear for him, and cudgeling my brains to keep +up the conversation. I knew that it was all I could do, and that his +life depended upon my ability to keep his mind off his danger. I pointed +out to him the great panorama spreading away to the horizon and four +thousand feet beneath us. There lay San Francisco Bay like a great +placid lake, the haze of smoke over the city, the Golden Gate, the ocean +fog-rim beyond, and Mount Tamalpais over all, clear-cut and sharp +against the sky. Directly below us I could see a buggy, apparently +crawling, but I knew from experience that the men in it were lashing the +horses on our trail. + +But he grew tired of looking around, and I could see he was beginning to +get frightened. + +"How would you like to go in for the business?" I asked. + +He cheered up at once and asked "Do you get good pay?" + +But the "Little Nassau," beginning to cool, had started on its long +descent, and ran into counter currents which bobbed it roughly about. +This swung the boy around pretty lively, smashing him into the bag once +quite severely. His lip began to tremble at this, and he was crying +again. I tried to joke and laugh, but it was no use. His pluck was +oozing out, and at any moment I was prepared to see him go shooting +past me. + +I was in despair. Then, suddenly, I remembered how one fright could +destroy another fright, and I frowned up at him and shouted sternly: + +"You just hold on to that rope! If you don't I'll thrash you within an +inch of your life when I get you down on the ground! Understand?" + +"Ye-ye-yes, sir," he whimpered, and I saw that the thing had worked. I +was nearer to him than the earth, and he was more afraid of me than of +falling. + +"'Why, you've got a snap up there on that soft bag," I rattled on. + +"Yes," I assured him, "this bar down here is hard and narrow, and it +hurts to sit on it." + +Then a thought struck him, and he forgot all about his aching fingers. + +"When are you going to jump?" he asked. "That's what I came up to see." + +I was sorry to disappoint him, but I wasn't going to make any jump. + +But he objected to that. "It said so in the papers," he said. + +"I don't care," I answered. "I'm feeling sort of lazy today, and I'm +just going to ride down the balloon. It's my balloon and I guess I can +do as I please about it. And, anyway, we're almost down now." + +And we were, too, and sinking fast. And right there and then that +youngster began to argue with me as to whether it was right for me to +disappoint the people, and to urge their claims upon me. And it was +with a happy heart that I held up my end of it, justifying myself in a +thousand different ways, till we shot over a grove of eucalyptus trees +and dipped to meet the earth. + +"Hold on tight!" I shouted, swinging down from the trapeze by my hands +in order to make a landing on my feet. + +We skimmed past a barn, missed a mesh of clothesline, frightened +the barnyard chickens into a panic, and rose up again clear over a +haystack--all this almost quicker than it takes to tell. Then we came +down in an orchard, and when my feet had touched the ground I fetched up +the balloon by a couple of turns of the trapeze around an apple tree. + +I have had my balloon catch fire in mid air, I have hung on the cornice +of a ten-story house, I have dropped like a bullet for six hundred feet +when a parachute was slow in opening; but never have I felt so weak and +faint and sick as when I staggered toward the unscratched boy and +gripped him by the arm. + +"Tommy Dermott," I said, when I had got my nerves back somewhat. "Tommy +Dermott, I'm going to lay you across my knee and give you the greatest +thrashing a boy ever got in the world's history." + +"No, you don't," he answered, squirming around. "You said you wouldn't +if I held on tight." + +"That's all right," I said, "but I'm going to, just the same. The +fellows who go up in balloons are bad, unprincipled men, and I'm going +to give you a lesson right now to make you stay away from them, and from +balloons, too." + +And then I gave it to him, and if it wasn't the greatest thrashing in +the world, it was the greatest he ever got. + +But it took all the grit out of me, left me nerve-broken, that +experience. I canceled the engagement with the street railway company, +and later on went in for gas. Gas is much the safer, anyway. + + + + +BALD-FACE + + +"Talkin' of bear----" + +The Klondike King paused meditatively, and the group on the hotel porch +hitched their chairs up closer. + +"Talkin' of bear," he went on, "now up in the Northern Country there are +various kinds. On the Little Pelly, for instance, they come down that +thick in the summer to feed on the salmon that you can't get an Indian +or white man to go nigher than a day's journey to the place. And up +in the Rampart Mountains there's a curious kind of bear called the +'side-hill grizzly.' That's because he's traveled on the side-hills ever +since the Flood, and the two legs on the down-hill side are twice as +long as the two on the up-hill. And he can out-run a jack rabbit when he +gets steam up. Dangerous? Catch you! Bless you, no. All a man has to do +is to circle down the hill and run the other way. You see, that throws +mister bear's long legs up the hill and the short ones down. Yes, he's a +mighty peculiar creature, but that wasn't what I started in to tell +about. + +"They've got another kind of bear up on the Yukon, and his legs are all +right, too. He's called the bald-face grizzly, and he's jest as big as +he is bad. It's only the fool white men that think of hunting him. +Indians got too much sense. But there's one thing about the bald-face +that a man has to learn: he never gives the trail to mortal creature. +If you see him comin', and you value your skin, you get out of his path. +If you don't, there's bound to be trouble. If the bald-face met Jehovah +Himself on the trail, he'd not give him an inch. O, he's a selfish +beggar, take my word for it. But I had to learn all this. Didn't know +anything about bear when I went into the country, exceptin' when I was a +youngster I'd seen a heap of cinnamons and that little black kind. And +they was nothin' to be scared at. + +"Well, after we'd got settled down on our claim, I went up on the hill +lookin' for a likely piece of birch to make an ax-handle out of. But +it was pretty hard to find the right kind, and I kept a-goin' and kept +a-goin' for nigh on two hours. Wasn't in no hurry to make my choice, you +see, for I was headin' down to the Forks, where I was goin' to borrow a +log-bit from Old Joe Gee. When I started, I'd put a couple of sour-dough +biscuits and some sowbelly in my pocket in case I might get hungry. +And I'm tellin' you that lunch came in right handy before I was done +with it. + +"Bime-by I hit upon the likeliest little birch saplin', right in the +middle of a clump of jack pine. Jest as I raised my hand-ax I happened +to cast my eyes down the hill. There was a big bear comin' up, swingin' +along on all fours, right in my direction. It was a bald-face, but +little I knew then about such kind. + +"'Jest watch me scare him,' I says to myself, and I stayed out of sight +in the trees. + +"Well, I waited till he was about a hundred feet off, then out I runs +into the open. + +"'Oof! oof!' I hollered at him, expectin' to see him turn tail like +chain lightning. + +"Turn tail? He jest throwed up his head for one good look and came a +comin'. + +"'Oof! oof!' I hollered, louder'n ever. But he jest came a comin'. + +"'Consarn you!' I says to myself, gettin' mad. 'I'll make you jump the +trail.' + +"So I grabs my hat, and wavin' and hollerin' starts down the trail to +meet him. A big sugar pine had gone down in a windfall and lay about +breast high. I stops jest behind it, old bald-face comin' all the time. +It was jest then that fear came to me. I yelled like a Comanche Indian +as he raised up to come over the log, and fired my hat full in his face. +Then I lit out. + +"Say! I rounded the end of that log and put down the hill at a +two-twenty clip, old bald-face reachin' for me at every jump. At the +bottom was a broad, open flat, quarter of a mile to timber and full of +niggerheads. I knew if ever I slipped I was a goner, but I hit only the +high places till you couldn't a-seen my trail for smoke. And the old +devil snortin' along hot after me. Midway across, he reached for me, +jest strikin' the heel of my moccasin with his claw. Tell you I was +doin' some tall thinkin' jest then. I knew he had the wind of me and I +could never make the brush, so I pulled my little lunch out of my pocket +and dropped it on the fly. + +"Never looked back till I hit the timber, and then he was mouthing the +biscuits in a way which wasn't nice to see, considerin' how close he'd +been to me. I never slacked up. No, sir! Jest kept hittin' the trail for +all there was in me. But jest as I came around a bend, heelin' it right +lively I tell you, what'd I see in middle of the trail before me, and +comin' my way, but another bald-face! + +"'Whoof!' he says when he spotted me, and he came a-runnin.' + +"Instanter I was about and hittin' the back trail twice as fast as I'd +come. The way this one was puffin' after me, I'd clean forgot all about +the other bald-face. First thing I knew I seen him mosying along kind of +easy, wonderin' most likely what had become of me, and if I tasted as +good as my lunch. Say! when he seen me he looked real pleased. And then +he came a-jumpin' for me. + +"'Whoof!' he says. + +"'Whoof!' says the one behind me. + +"Bang I goes, slap off the trail sideways, a-plungin' and a-clawin' +through the brush like a wild man. By this time I was clean crazed; +thought the whole country was full of bald-faces. Next thing I +knows--whop, I comes up against something in a tangle of wild blackberry +bushes. Then that something hits me a slap and closes in on me. Another +bald-face! And then and there I knew I was gone for sure. But I made up +to die game, and of all the rampin' and roarin' and rippin' and tearin' +you ever see, that was the worst. + +"'My God! O my wife!' it says. And I looked and it was a man I was +hammering into kingdom come. + +"'Thought you was a bear,' says I. + +"He kind of caught his breath and looked at me. Then he says, 'Same +here.' + +"Seemed as though he'd been chased by a bald-face, too, and had hid in +the blackberries. So that's how we mistook each other. + +"But by that time the racket on the trail was something terrible, and we +didn't wait to explain matters. That afternoon we got Joe Gee and some +rifles and came back loaded for bear. Mebbe you won't believe me, but +when we got to the spot, there was the two bald-faces lyin' dead. You +see, when I jumped out, they came together, and each refused to give +trail to the other. So they fought it out. Talkin' of bear. As I was +sayin'----" + + + + +IN YEDDO BAY + + +Somewhere along Theater Street he had lost it. He remembered being +hustled somewhat roughly on the bridge over one of the canals that +cross that busy thoroughfare. Possibly some slant-eyed, light-fingered +pickpocket was even then enjoying the fifty-odd yen his purse had +contained. And then again, he thought, he might have lost it himself, +just lost it carelessly. + +Hopelessly, and for the twentieth time, he searched in all his pockets +for the missing purse. It was not there. His hand lingered in his +empty hip-pocket, and he woefully regarded the voluble and vociferous +restaurant-keeper, who insanely clamored: "Twenty-five sen! You pay now! +Twenty-five sen!" + +"But my purse!" the boy said. "I tell you I've lost it somewhere." + +Whereupon the restaurant-keeper lifted his arms indignantly and +shrieked: "Twenty-five sen! Twenty-five sen! You pay now!" + +Quite a crowd had collected, and it was growing embarrassing for Alf +Davis. + +It was so ridiculous and petty, Alf thought. Such a disturbance about +nothing! And, decidedly, he must be doing something. Thoughts of diving +wildly through that forest of legs, and of striking out at whomsoever +opposed him, flashed through his mind; but, as though divining his +purpose, one of the waiters, a short and chunky chap with an +evil-looking cast in one eye, seized him by the arm. + +"You pay now! You pay now! Twenty-five sen!" yelled the proprietor, +hoarse with rage. + +Alf was red in the face, too, from mortification; but he resolutely set +out on another exploration. He had given up the purse, pinning his last +hope on stray coins. In the little change-pocket of his coat he found +a ten-sen piece and five-copper sen; and remembering having recently +missed a ten-sen piece, he cut the seam of the pocket and resurrected +the coin from the depths of the lining. Twenty-five sen he held in his +hand, the sum required to pay for the supper he had eaten. He turned +them over to the proprietor, who counted them, grew suddenly calm, and +bowed obsequiously--in fact, the whole crowd bowed obsequiously and +melted away. + +Alf Davis was a young sailor, just turned sixteen, on board the _Annie +Mine_, an American sailing-schooner, which had run into Yokohama to +ship its season's catch of skins to London. And in this, his second trip +ashore, he was beginning to snatch his first puzzling glimpses of the +Oriental mind. He laughed when the bowing and kotowing was over, and +turned on his heel to confront another problem. How was he to get aboard +ship? It was eleven o'clock at night, and there would be no ship's boats +ashore, while the outlook for hiring a native boatman, with nothing but +empty pockets to draw upon, was not particularly inviting. + +Keeping a sharp lookout for shipmates, he went down to the pier. At +Yokohama there are no long lines of wharves. The shipping lies out at +anchor, enabling a few hundred of the short-legged people to make a +livelihood by carrying passengers to and from the shore. + +A dozen sampan men and boys hailed Alf and offered their services. He +selected the most favorable-looking one, an old and beneficent-appearing +man with a withered leg. Alf stepped into his sampan and sat down. +It was quite dark and he could not see what the old fellow was doing, +though he evidently was doing nothing about shoving off and getting +under way. At last he limped over and peered into Alf's face. + +"Ten sen," he said. + +"Yes, I know, ten sen," Alf answered carelessly. "But hurry up. American +schooner." + +"Ten sen. You pay now," the old fellow insisted. + +Alf felt himself grow hot all over at the hateful words "pay now." "You +take me to American schooner; then I pay," he said. + +But the man stood up patiently before him, held out his hand, and said, +"Ten sen. You pay now." + +Alf tried to explain. He had no money. He had lost his purse. But he +would pay. As soon as he got aboard the American schooner, then he would +pay. No; he would not even go aboard the American schooner. He would +call to his shipmates, and they would give the sampan man the ten sen +first. After that he would go aboard. So it was all right, of course. + +To all of which the beneficent-appearing old man replied: "You pay now. +Ten sen." And, to make matters worse, the other sampan men squatted on +the pier steps, listening. + +Alf, chagrined and angry, stood up to step ashore. But the old fellow +laid a detaining hand on his sleeve. "You give shirt now. I take you +'Merican schooner," he proposed. + +Then it was that all of Alf's American independence flamed up in his +breast. The Anglo-Saxon has a born dislike of being imposed upon, and +to Alf this was sheer robbery! Ten sen was equivalent to six American +cents, while his shirt, which was of good quality and was new, had cost +him two dollars. + +He turned his back on the man without a word, and went out to the end of +the pier, the crowd, laughing with great gusto, following at his heels. +The majority of them were heavy-set, muscular fellows, and the July +night being one of sweltering heat, they were clad in the least possible +raiment. The water-people of any race are rough and turbulent, and it +struck Alf that to be out at midnight on a pier-end with such a crowd of +wharfmen, in a big Japanese city, was not as safe as it might be. + +One burly fellow, with a shock of black hair and ferocious eyes, came +up. The rest shoved in after him to take part in the discussion. + +"Give me shoes," the man said. "Give me shoes now. I take you 'Merican +schooner." + +Alf shook his head, whereat the crowd clamored that he accept the +proposal. Now the Anglo-Saxon is so constituted that to browbeat or +bully him is the last way under the sun of getting him to do any certain +thing. He will dare willingly, but he will not permit himself to be +driven. So this attempt of the boatmen to force Alf only aroused all the +dogged stubbornness of his race. The same qualities were in him that are +in men who lead forlorn hopes; and there, under the stars, on the lonely +pier, encircled by the jostling and shouldering gang, he resolved that +he would die rather than submit to the indignity of being robbed of a +single stitch of clothing. Not value, but principle, was at stake. + +Then somebody thrust roughly against him from behind. He whirled about +with flashing eyes, and the circle involuntarily gave ground. But the +crowd was growing more boisterous. Each and every article of clothing he +had on was demanded by one or another, and these demands were shouted +simultaneously at the tops of very healthy lungs. + +Alf had long since ceased to say anything, but he knew that the +situation was getting dangerous, and that the only thing left to him +was to get away. His face was set doggedly, his eyes glinted like points +of steel, and his body was firmly and confidently poised. This air of +determination sufficiently impressed the boatmen to make them give way +before him when he started to walk toward the shore-end of the pier. But +they trooped along beside him and behind him, shouting and laughing more +noisily than ever. One of the youngsters, about Alf's size and build, +impudently snatched his cap from his head; but before he could put it on +his own head, Alf struck out from the shoulder, and sent the fellow +rolling on the stones. + +The cap flew out of his hand and disappeared among the many legs. Alf +did some quick thinking; his sailor pride would not permit him to leave +the cap in their hands. He followed in the direction it had sped, and +soon found it under the bare foot of a stalwart fellow, who kept his +weight stolidly upon it. Alf tried to get the cap out by a sudden jerk, +but failed. He shoved against the man's leg, but the man only grunted. +It was challenge direct, and Alf accepted it. Like a flash one leg was +behind the man and Alf had thrust strongly with his shoulder against the +fellow's chest. Nothing could save the man from the fierce vigorousness +of the trick, and he was hurled over and backward. + +Next, the cap was on Alf's head and his fists were up before him. Then +he whirled about to prevent attack from behind, and all those in that +quarter fled precipitately. This was what he wanted. None remained +between him and the shore end. The pier was narrow. Facing them and +threatening with his fist those who attempted to pass him on either +side, he continued his retreat. It was exciting work, walking backward +and at the same time checking that surging mass of men. But the +dark-skinned peoples, the world over, have learned to respect the white +man's fist; and it was the battles fought by many sailors, more than his +own warlike front, that gave Alf the victory. + +Where the pier adjoins the shore was the station of the harbor police, +and Alf backed into the electric-lighted office, very much to the +amusement of the dapper lieutenant in charge. The sampan men, grown +quiet and orderly, clustered like flies by the open door, through which +they could see and hear what passed. + +Alf explained his difficulty in few words, and demanded, as the +privilege of a stranger in a strange land, that the lieutenant put him +aboard in the police-boat. The lieutenant, in turn, who knew all the +"rules and regulations" by heart, explained that the harbor police were +not ferrymen, and that the police-boats had other functions to perform +than that of transporting belated and penniless sailor-men to their +ships. He also said he knew the sampan men to be natural-born robbers, +but that so long as they robbed within the law he was powerless. It +was their right to collect fares in advance, and who was he to command +them to take a passenger and collect fare at the journey's end? Alf +acknowledged the justice of his remarks, but suggested that while he +could not command he might persuade. The lieutenant was willing to +oblige, and went to the door, from where he delivered a speech to the +crowd. But they, too, knew their rights, and, when the officer had +finished, shouted in chorus their abominable "Ten sen! You pay now! +You pay now!" + +"You see, I can do nothing," said the lieutenant, who, by the way, spoke +perfect English. "But I have warned them not to harm or molest you, so +you will be safe, at least. The night is warm and half over. Lie down +somewhere and go to sleep. I would permit you to sleep here in the +office, were it not against the rules and regulations." + +Alf thanked him for his kindness and courtesy; but the sampan men had +aroused all his pride of race and doggedness, and the problem could not +be solved that way. To sleep out the night on the stones was an +acknowledgment of defeat. + +"The sampan men refuse to take me out?" + +The lieutenant nodded. + +"And you refuse to take me out?" + +Again the lieutenant nodded. + +"Well, then, it's not in the rules and regulations that you can prevent +my taking myself out?" + +The lieutenant was perplexed. "There is no boat," he said. + +"That's not the question," Alf proclaimed hotly. "If I take myself out, +everybody's satisfied and no harm done?" + +"Yes; what you say is true," persisted the puzzled lieutenant. "But you +cannot take yourself out." + +"You just watch me," was the retort. + +Down went Alf's cap on the office floor. Right and left he kicked off +his low-cut shoes. Trousers and shirt followed. + +"Remember," he said in ringing tones, "I, as a citizen of the United +States, shall hold you, the city of Yokohama, and the government of +Japan responsible for those clothes. Good night." + +He plunged through the doorway, scattering the astounded boatmen to +either side, and ran out on the pier. But they quickly recovered and ran +after him, shouting with glee at the new phase the situation had taken +on. It was a night long remembered among the water-folk of Yokohama +town. Straight to the end Alf ran, and, without pause, dived off cleanly +and neatly into the water. He struck out with a lusty, single-overhand +stroke till curiosity prompted him to halt for a moment. Out of the +darkness, from where the pier should be, voices were calling to him. + +He turned on his back, floated, and listened. + +"All right! All right!" he could distinguish from the babel. "No pay +now; pay bime by! Come back! Come back now; pay bime by!" + +"No, thank you," he called back. "No pay at all. Good night." + +Then he faced about in order to locate the _Annie Mine_. She was +fully a mile away, and in the darkness it was no easy task to get her +bearings. First, he settled upon a blaze of lights which he knew nothing +but a man-of-war could make. That must be the United States war-ship +_Lancaster_. Somewhere to the left and beyond should be the +_Annie Mine._ But to the left he made out three lights close +together. That could not be the schooner. For the moment he was +confused. He rolled over on his back and shut his eyes, striving to +construct a mental picture of the harbor as he had seen it in daytime. +With a snort of satisfaction he rolled back again. The three lights +evidently belonged to the big English tramp steamer. Therefore the +schooner must lie somewhere between the three lights and the +_Lancaster_. He gazed long and steadily, and there, very dim and +low, but at the point he expected, burned a single light--the +anchor-light of the _Annie Mine_. + +And it was a fine swim under the starshine. The air was warm as the +water, and the water as warm as tepid milk. The good salt taste of it +was in his mouth, the tingling of it along his limbs; and the steady +beat of his heart, heavy and strong, made him glad for living. + +But beyond being glorious the swim was uneventful. On the right hand he +passed the many-lighted _Lancaster_, on the left hand the English +tramp, and ere long the _Annie Mine_ loomed large above him. He +grasped the hanging rope-ladder and drew himself noiselessly on deck. +There was no one in sight. He saw a light in the galley, and knew that +the captain's son, who kept the lonely anchor-watch, was making coffee. +Alf went forward to the forecastle. The men were snoring in their bunks, +and in that confined space the heat seemed to him insufferable. So he +put on a thin cotton shirt and a pair of dungaree trousers, tucked +blanket and pillow under his arm, and went up on deck and out on the +fore-castle-head. + +Hardly had he begun to doze when he was roused by a boat coming +alongside and hailing the anchor-watch. It was the police-boat, and to +Alf it was given to enjoy the excited conversation that ensued. Yes, the +captain's son recognized the clothes. They belonged to Alf Davis, one of +the seamen. What had happened? No; Alf Davis had not come aboard. He +was ashore. He was not ashore? Then he must be drowned. Here both the +lieutenant and the captain's son talked at the same time, and Alf could +make out nothing. Then he heard them come forward and rouse out the +crew. The crew grumbled sleepily and said that Alf Davis was not in the +forecastle; whereupon the captain's son waxed indignant at the Yokohama +police and their ways, and the lieutenant quoted rules and regulations +in despairing accents. + +Alf rose up from the forecastle-head and extended his hand, saying: + +"I guess I'll take those clothes. Thank you for bringing them aboard so +promptly." + +"I don't see why he couldn't have brought you aboard inside of them," +said the captain's son. + +And the police lieutenant said nothing, though he turned the clothes +over somewhat sheepishly to their rightful owner. + +The next day, when Alf started to go ashore, he found himself surrounded +by shouting and gesticulating, though very respectful, sampan men, all +extraordinarily anxious to have him for a passenger. Nor did the one +he selected say, "You pay now," when he entered his boat. "When Alf +prepared to step out on to the pier, he offered the man the customary +ten sen. But the man drew himself up and shook his head. + +"You all right," he said. "You no pay. You never no pay. You bully boy +and all right." + +And for the rest of the _Annie Mine's_ stay in port, the sampan men +refused money at Alf Davis's hand. Out of admiration for his pluck and +independence, they had given him the freedom of the harbor. + + + + +WHOSE BUSINESS IS TO LIVE + + +Stanton Davies and Jim Wemple ceased from their talk to listen to an +increase of uproar in the street. A volley of stones thrummed and boomed +the wire mosquito nettings that protected the windows. It was a hot +night, and the sweat of the heat stood on their faces as they listened. +Arose the incoherent clamor of the mob, punctuated by individual cries +in Mexican-Spanish. Least terrible among the obscene threats were: +"Death to the Gringos!" "Kill the American pigs!" "Drown the American +dogs in the sea!" + +Stanton Davies and Jim Wemple shrugged their shoulders patiently to each +other, and resumed their conversation, talking louder in order to make +themselves heard above the uproar. + +"The question is _how_," Wemple said. "It's forty-seven miles to +Panuco, by river----" + +"And the land's impossible, with Zaragoza's and Villa's men on the loot +and maybe fraternizing," Davies agreed. + +Wemple nodded and continued: "And she's at the East Coast Magnolia, two +miles beyond, if she isn't back at the hunting camp. We've got to get +her----" + +"We've played pretty square in this matter, Wemple," Davies said. "And +we might as well speak up and acknowledge what each of us knows the +other knows. You want her. I want her." + +Wemple lighted a cigarette and nodded. + +"And now's the time when it's up to us to make a show as if we didn't +want her and that all we want is just to save her and get her down +here." + +"And a truce until we do save her--I get you," Wempel affirmed. + +"A truce until we get her safe and sound back here in Tampico, or aboard +a battleship. After that? ..." + +Both men shrugged shoulders and beamed on each other as their hands met +in ratification. + +Fresh volleys of stones thrummed against the wire-screened windows; a +boy's voice rose shrilly above the clamor, proclaiming death to the +Gringos; and the house reverberated to the heavy crash of some battering +ram against the street-door downstairs. Both men, snatching up automatic +rifles, ran down to where their fire could command the threatened door. + +"If they break in we've got to let them have it," Wemple said. + +Davies nodded quiet agreement, then inconsistently burst out with a +lurid string of oaths. + +"To think of it!" he explained his wrath. "One out of three of those +curs outside has worked for you or me--lean-bellied, barefooted, +poverty-stricken, glad for ten centavos a day if they could only get +work. And we've given them steady jobs and a hundred and fifty centavos +a a day, and here they are yelling for our blood." + +"Only the half breeds," Davies corrected. + +"You know what I mean," Wemple replied. "The only peons we've lost are +those that have been run off or shot." + +The attack on the door ceasing, they returned upstairs. Half a dozen +scattered shots from farther along the street seemed to draw away the +mob, for the neighborhood became comparatively quiet. + +A whistle came to them through the open windows, and a man's voice +calling: + +"Wemple! Open the door! It's Habert! Want to talk to you!" + +Wemple went down, returning in several minutes with a tidily-paunched, +well-built, gray-haired American of fifty. He shook hands with Davies +and flung himself into a chair, breathing heavily. He did not relinquish +his clutch on the Colt's 44 automatic pistol, although he immediately +addressed himself to the task of fishing a filled clip of cartridges +from the pocket of his linen coat. He had arrived hatless and +breathless, and the blood from a stone-cut on the cheek oozed down his +face. He, too, in a fit of anger, springing to his feet when he had +changed clips in his pistol, burst out with mouth-filling profanity. + +"They had an American flag in the dirt, stamping and spitting on it. And +they told me to spit on it." + +Wemple and Davies regarded him with silent interrogation. + +"Oh, I know what you're wondering!" he flared out. "Would I a-spit on it +in the pinch? That's what's eating you. I'll answer. Straight out, brass +tacks, I WOULD. Put that in your pipe and smoke it." + +He paused to help himself to a cigar from the box on the table and to +light it with a steady and defiant hand. + +"Hell!--I guess this neck of the woods knows Anthony Habert, and you can +bank on it that it's never located his yellow streak. Sure, in the +pinch, I'd spit on Old Glory. What the hell d'ye think I'm going on the +streets for a night like this? Didn't I skin out of the Southern Hotel +half an hour ago, where there are forty buck Americans, not counting +their women, and all armed? That was safety. What d'ye think I came here +for?--to rescue you?" + +His indignation lumped his throat into silence, and he seemed shaken as +with an apoplexy. + +"Spit it out," Davies commanded dryly. + +"I'll tell you," Habert exploded. "It's Billy Boy. Fifty miles up +country and twenty-thousand throat-cutting federals and rebels between +him and me. D'ye know what that boy'd do, if he was here in Tampico and +I was fifty miles up the Panuco? Well, I know. And I'm going to do the +same--go and get him." + +"We're figuring on going up," Wemple assured him. + +"And that's why I headed here--Miss Drexel, of course?" + +Both men acquiesced and smiled. It was a time when men dared speak of +matters which at other times tabooed speech. + +"Then the thing's to get started," Habert exclaimed, looking at his +watch. "It's midnight now. We've got to get to the river and get a +boat--" + +But the clamor of the returning mob came through the windows in answer. + +Davies was about to speak, when the telephone rang, and Wemple sprang to +the instrument. + +"It's Carson," he interjected, as he listened. "They haven't cut the +wires across the river yet.--Hello, Carson. Was it a break or a cut? ... +Bully for you.... Yes, move the mules across to the potrero beyond +Tamcochin.... Who's at the water station? ... Can you still 'phone +him? ... Tell him to keep the tanks full, and to shut off the main to +Arico. Also, to hang on till the last minute, and keep a horse saddled +to cut and run for it. Last thing before he runs, he must jerk out the +'phone.... Yes, yes, yes. Sure. No breeds. Leave full-blooded Indians in +charge. Gabriel is a good _hombre_. Heaven knows, once we're chased +out, when we'll get back.... You can't pinch down Jaramillo under +twenty-five hundred barrels. We've got storage for ten days. Gabriel'll +have to handle it. Keep it moving, if we have to run it into the +river----" + +"Ask him if he has a launch," Habert broke in. + +"He hasn't," was Wemple's answer. "The federals commandeered the last +one at noon." + +"Say, Carson, how are you going to make your get-away?" Wemple queried. + +The man to whom he talked was across the Panuco, on the south side, at +the tank farm. + +"Says there isn't any get-away," Wemple vouchsafed to the other two. +"The federals are all over the shop, and he can't understand why they +haven't raided him hours ago." + +"... Who? Campos? That skunk! ... all right.... Don't be worried if you +don't hear from me. I'm going up river with Davies and Habert.... Use +your judgment, and if you get a safe chance at Campos, pot him.... Oh, +a hot time over here. They're battering our doors now. Yes, by all +means ... Good-by, old man." + +Wemple lighted a cigarette and wiped his forehead. + +"You know Campos, Jose H. Campos," he +volunteered. "The dirty cur's stuck Carson up +for twenty thousand pesos. We had to pay, +or he'd have compelled half our peons to enlist +or set the wells on fire. And you know, +Davies, what we've done for him in past years. +Gratitude? Simple decency? Great Scott!" + + * * * * * + +It was the night of April twenty-first. On the morning of the +twenty-first the American marines and bluejackets had landed at Vera +Cruz and seized the custom house and the city. Immediately the news was +telegraphed, the vengeful Mexican mob had taken possession of the +streets of Tampico and expressed its disapproval of the action of the +United States by tearing down American flags and crying death to the +Americans. + +There was nothing save its own spinelessness to deter the mob from +carrying out its threat. Had it battered down the doors of the Southern +Hotel, or of other hotels, or of residences such as Wemple's, a fight +would have started in which the thousands of federal soldiers in Tampico +would have joined their civilian compatriots in the laudable task of +decreasing the Gringo population of that particular portion of Mexico. +There should have been American warships to act as deterrents; but +through some inexplicable excess of delicacy, or strategy, or heaven +knows what, the United States, when it gave its orders to take Vera +Cruz, had very carefully withdrawn its warships from Tampico to the open +Gulf a dozen miles away. This order had come to Admiral Mayo by wireless +from Washington, and thrice he had demanded the order to be repeated, +ere, with tears in his eyes, he had turned his back on his countrymen +and countrywomen and steamed to sea. + + * * * * * + +"Of all asinine things, to leave us in the lurch this way!" Habert was +denouncing the powers that be of his country. "Mayo'd never have done +it. Mark my words, he had to take program from Washington. And here we +are, and our dear ones scattered for fifty miles back up country.... +Say, if I lose Billy Boy I'll never dare go home to face the wife.--Come +on. Let the three of us make a start. We can throw the fear of God into +any gang on the streets." + +"Come on over and take a squint," Davies invited from where he stood, +somewhat back from the window, looking down into the street. + +It was gorged with rioters, all haranguing, cursing, crying out death, +and urging one another to smash the doors, but each hanging back from +the death he knew waited behind those doors for the first of the rush. + +"We can't break through a bunch like that, Habert," was Davies' comment. + +"And if we die under their feet we'll be of little use to Billy Boy or +anybody else up the Panuco," Wemple added. "And if----" + +A new movement of the mob caused him to break off. It was splitting +before a slow and silent advance of a file of white-clad men. + +"Bluejackets--Mayo's come back for us after all," Habert muttered. + +"Then we can get a navy launch," Davies said. + +The bedlam of the mob died away, and, in silence, the sailors reached +the street door and knocked for admittance. All three went down to open +it, and to discover that the callers were not Americans but two German +lieutenants and half a dozen German marines. At sight of the Americans, +the rage of the mob rose again, and was quelled by the grounding of the +rifle butts of the marines. + +"No, thank you," the senior lieutenant, in passable English, declined +the invitation to enter. He unconcernedly kept his cigar alive at such +times that the mob drowned his voice. "We are on the way back to our +ship. Our commander conferred with the English and Dutch commanders; but +they declined to cooperate, so our commander has undertaken the entire +responsibility. We have been the round of the hotels. They are to hold +their own until daybreak, when we'll take them off. We have given them +rockets such as these.--Take them. If your house is entered, hold your +own and send up a rocket from the roof. We can be here in force, in +forty-five minutes. Steam is up in all our launches, launch crews and +marines for shore duty are in the launches, and at the first rocket we +shall start." + +"Since you are going aboard now, we should like to go with you," Davies +said, after having rendered due thanks. + +The surprise and distaste on both lieutenants' faces was patent. + +"Oh, no," Davies laughed. "We don't want refuge. We have friends fifty +miles up river, and we want to get to the river in order to go up after +them." + +The pleasure on the officers' faces was immediate as they looked a +silent conference at each other. + +"Since our commander has undertaken grave responsibility on a night like +this, may we do less than take minor responsibility?" queried the elder. + +To this the younger heartily agreed. In a trice, upstairs and down +again, equipped with extra ammunition, extra pistols, and a +pocket-bulging supply of cigars, cigarettes and matches, the three +Americans were ready. Wemple called last instructions up the stairway to +imaginary occupants being left behind, ascertained that the spring lock +was on, and slammed the door. + +The officers led, followed by the Americans, the rear brought up by the +six marines; and the spitting, howling mob, not daring to cast a stone, +gave way before them. + + * * * * * + +As they came alongside the gangway of the cruiser, they saw launches and +barges lying in strings to the boat-booms, filled with men, waiting for +the rocket signal from the beleaguered hotels. A gun thundered from +close at hand, up river, followed by the thunder of numerous guns and +the reports of many rifles fired very rapidly. + +"Now what's the _Topila_ whanging away at?" Habert complained, then +joined the others in gazing at the picture. + +A searchlight, evidently emanating from the Mexican gunboat, was +stabbing the darkness to the middle of the river, where it played upon +the water. And across the water, the center of the moving circle of +light, flashed a long, lean speedboat. A shell burst in the air a +hundred feet astern of it. Somewhere, outside the light, other shells +were bursting in the water; for they saw the boat rocked by the waves +from the explosions. They could guess the whizzing of the rifle bullets. + +But for only several minutes the spectacle lasted. Such was the speed of +the boat that it gained shelter behind the German, when the Mexican +gunboat was compelled to cease fire. The speedboat slowed down, turned +in a wide and heeling circle, and ranged up alongside the launch at the +gangway. + +The lights from the gangway showed but one occupant, a tow-headed, +greasy-faced, blond youth of twenty, very lean, very calm, very much +satisfied with himself. + +"If it ain't Peter Tonsburg!" Habert ejaculated, reaching out a hand to +shake. "Howdy, Peter, howdy. And where in hell are you hellbent for, +surging by the _Topila_ in such scandalous fashion!" + +Peter, a Texas-born Swede of immigrant parents, filled with the old +Texas traditions, greasily shook hands with Wemple and Davies as well, +saying "Howdy," as only the Texan born can say it. + +"Me," he answered Habert. "I ain't hellbent nowhere exceptin' to get +away from the shell-fire. She's a caution, that _Topila_. Huh! but +I limbered 'em up some. I was goin' every inch of twenty-five. They was +like amateurs blazin' away at canvasback." + +"Which _Chill_ is it?" Wemple asked. + +"_Chill II_," Peter answered. "It's all that's left. _Chill I_ +a Greaser--you know 'm--Campos--commandeered this noon. I was runnin' +_Chill III_ when they caught me at sundown. Made me come in under +their guns at the East Coast outfit, and fired me out on my neck. + +"Now the boss'd gone over in this one to Tampico in the early evening, +and just about ten minutes ago I spots it landin' with a sousy bunch of +Federals at the East Coast, and swipes it back according. Where's the +boss? He ain't hurt, is he? Because I'm going after him." + +"No, you're not, Peter," Davies said. "Mr. Frisbie is safe at the +Southern Hotel, all except a five-inch scalp wound from a brick that's +got him down with a splitting headache. He's safe, so you're going with +us, going to take us, I mean, up beyond Panuco town." + +"Huh?--I can see myself," Peter retorted, wiping his greasy nose on a +wad of greasy cotton waste. "I got some cold. Besides, this +night-drivin' ain't good for my complexion." + +"My boy's up there," Habert said. + +"Well, he's bigger'n I am, and I reckon he can take care of himself." + +"And there's a woman there--Miss Drexel," Davies said quietly. + +"Who? Miss Drexel? Why didn't you say so at first!" Peter demanded +grievedly. He sighed and added, "Well, climb in an' make a start. Better +get your Dutch friends to donate me about twenty gallons of gasoline if +you want to get anywhere." + + * * * * * + +"Won't do you no good to lay low," Peter Tonsburg remarked, as, at full +speed, headed up river, the _Topila's_ searchlight stabbed them. +"High or low, if one of them shells hits in the vicinity--_good +night_!" + +Immediately thereafter the _Topila_ erupted. The roar of the +_Chill's_ exhaust nearly drowned the roar of the guns, but the +fragile hull of the craft was shaken and rocked by the bursting shells. +An occasional bullet thudded into or pinged off the _Chill_, and, +despite Peter's warning that, high or low, they were bound to get it if +it came to them, every man on board, including Peter, crouched, with +chest contracted by drawn-in shoulders, in an instinctive and purely +unconscious effort to lessen the area of body he presented as a target +or receptacle for flying fragments of steel. + +The _Topila_ was a federal gunboat. To complicate the affair, the +constitutionalists, gathered on the north shore in the siege of Tampico, +opened up on the speedboat with many rifles and a machine gun. + +"Lord, I'm glad they're Mexicans, and not Americans," Habert observed, +after five mad minutes in which no damage had been received. "Mexicans +are born with guns in their hands, and they never learn to use them." + +Nor was the _Chill_ or any man aboard damaged when at last she +rounded the bend of river that shielded her from the searchlight. + +"I'll have you in Panuco town in less'n three hours, ... if we don't hit +a log," Peter leaned back and shouted in Wemple's ear. "And if we do hit +driftwood, I'll have you in the swim quicker than that." + +_Chill II_ tore her way through the darkness, steered by the +tow-headed youth who knew every foot of the river and who guided his +course by the loom of the banks in the dim starlight. A smart breeze, +kicking up spiteful wavelets on the wider reaches, splashed them with +sheeted water as well as fine-flung spray. And, in the face of the +warmth of the tropic night, the wind, added to the speed of the boat, +chilled them through their wet clothes. + +"Now I know why she was named the _Chill_," Habert observed betwixt +chattering teeth. + +But conversation languished during the nearly three hours of drive +through the darkness. Once, by the exhaust, they knew that they passed +an unlighted launch bound down stream. And once, a glare of light, near +the south bank, as they passed through the Toreno field, aroused brief +debate as to whether it was the Toreno wells, or the bungalow on +Merrick's banana plantation that flared so fiercely. + +At the end of an hour, Peter slowed down and ran in to the bank. + +"I got a cache of gasoline here--ten gallons," he explained, "and it's +just as well to know it's here for the back trip." Without leaving the +boat, fishing arm-deep into the brush, he announced, "All hunky-dory." +He proceeded to oil the engine. "Huh!" he soliloquized for their +benefit. "I was just readin' a magazine yarn last night. 'Whose Business +Is to Die,' was its title. An' all I got to say is, 'The hell it is.' A +man's business is to live. Maybe you thought it was our business to die +when the _Topila_ was pepper-in' us. But you was wrong. We're +alive, ain't we? We beat her to it. That's the game. Nobody's got any +business to die. I ain't never goin' to die, if I've got any say about +it." + +He turned over the crank, and the roar and rush of the _Chill_ put +an end to speech. + +There was no need for Wemple or Davies to speak further in the affair +closest to their hearts. Their truce to love-making had been made as +binding as it was brief, and each rival honored the other with a firm +belief that he would commit no infraction of the truce. Afterward was +another matter. In the meantime they were one in the effort to get Beth +Drexel back to the safety of riotous Tampico or of a war vessel. + +It was four o'clock when they passed by Panuco Town. Shouts and songs +told them that the federal detachment holding the place was celebrating +its indignation at the landing of American bluejackets in Vera Cruz. +Sentinels challenged the _Chill_ from the shore and shot at random +at the noise of her in the darkness. + +A mile beyond, where a lighted river steamer with steam up lay at the +north bank, they ran in at the Apshodel wells. The steamer was small, +and the nearly two hundred Americans--men, women, and children--crowded +her capacity. Blasphemous greetings of pure joy and geniality were +exchanged between the men, and Habert learned that the steamboat was +waiting for his Billy Boy, who, astride a horse, was rounding up +isolated drilling gangs who had not yet learned that the United States +had seized Vera Cruz and that all Mexico was boiling. + +Habert climbed out to wait and to go down on the steamer, while the +three that remained on the _Chill_, having learned that Miss Drexel +was not with the refugees, headed for the Dutch Company on the south +shore. This was the big gusher, pinched down from one hundred and +eighty-five thousand daily barrels to the quantity the company +was able to handle. Mexico had no quarrel with Holland, so that the +superintendent, while up, with night guards out to prevent drunken +soldiers from firing his vast lakes of oil, was quite unemotional. Yes, +the last he had heard was that Miss Drexel and her brother were back at +the hunting lodge. No; he had not sent any warnings, and he doubted that +anybody else had. Not till ten o'clock the previous evening had he +learned of the landing at Vera Cruz. The Mexicans had turned nasty as +soon as they heard of it, and they had killed Miles Forman at the Empire +Wells, run off his labor, and looted the camp. Horses? No; he didn't +have horse or mule on the place. The federals had commandeered the last +animal weeks back. It was his belief, however, that there were a couple +of plugs at the lodge, too worthless even for the Mexicans to take. + +"It's a hike," Davies said cheerfully. + +"Six miles of it," Wemple agreed, equally cheerfully. "Let's beat it." + +A shot from the river, where they had left Peter in the boat, started +them on the run for the bank. A scattering of shots, as from two rifles, +followed. And while the Dutch superintendent, in execrable Spanish, +shouted affirmations of Dutch neutrality into the menacing dark, across +the gunwale of _Chill II_ they found the body of the tow-headed +youth whose business it had been not to die. + + * * * * * + +For the first hour, talking little, Davies and Wemple stumbled along the +apology for a road that led through the jungle to the lodge. They did +discuss the glares of several fires to the east along the south bank of +Panuco River, and hoped fervently that they were dwellings and not +wells. + +"Two billion dollars worth of oil right here in the Ebano field alone," +Davies grumbled. + +"And a drunken Mexican, whose whole carcass and immortal soul aren't +worth ten pesos including hair, hide, and tallow, can start the bonfire +with a lighted wad of cotton waste," was Wemple's contribution. "And if +ever she starts, she'll gut the field of its last barrel." + +Dawn, at five, enabled them to accelerate their pace; and six o'clock +found them routing out the occupants of the lodge. + +"Dress for rough travel, and don't stop for any frills," Wemple called +around the corner of Miss Drexel's screened sleeping porch. + +"Not a wash, nothing," Davies supplemented grimly, as he shook hands +with Charley Drexel, who yawned and slippered up to them in pajamas. +"Where are those horses, Charley? Still alive?" + +Wemple finished giving orders to the sleepy peons to remain and care for +the place, occupying their spare time with hiding the more valuable +things, and was calling around the corner to Miss Drexel the news of the +capture of Vera Cruz, when Davies returned with the information that the +horses consisted of a pair of moth-eaten skates that could be depended +upon to lie down and die in the first half mile. + +Beth Drexel emerged, first protesting that under no circumstances would +she be guilty of riding the creatures, and, next, her brunette skin and +dark eyes still flushed warm with sleep, greeting the two rescuers. + +"It would be just as well if you washed your face, Stanton," she told +Davies; and, to Wemple: "You're just as bad, Jim. You are a pair of +dirty boys." + +"And so will you be," Wemple assured her, "before you get back to +Tampico. Are you ready?" + +"As soon as Juanita packs my hand bag." + +"Heavens, Beth, don't waste time!" exclaimed Wemple. "Jump in and grab +up what you want." + +"Make a start--make a start," chanted Davies. "Hustle! Hustle!--Charley, +get the rifle you like best and take it along. Get a couple for us." + +"Is it as serious as that?" Miss Drexel queried. + +Both men nodded. + +"The Mexicans are tearing loose," Davies explained. "How they missed +this place I don't know." A movement in the adjoining room startled him. +"Who's that?" he cried. + +"Why, Mrs. Morgan," Miss Drexel answered. + +"Good heavens, Wemple, I'd forgotten _her_," groaned Davies. "How +will we ever get her anywhere?" + +"Let Beth walk, and relay the lady on the nags." + +"She weighs a hundred and eighty," Miss Drexel laughed. "Oh, hurry, +Martha! We're waiting on you to start!" + +Muffled speech came through the partition, and then emerged a very +short, stout, much-flustered woman of middle age. + +"I simply can't walk, and you boys needn't demand it of me," was her +plaint. "It's no use. I couldn't walk half a mile to save my life, and +it's six of the worst miles to the river." + +They regarded her in despair. + +"Then you'll ride," said Davies. "Come on, Charley. We'll get a saddle +on each of the nags." + +Along the road through the tropic jungle, Miss Drexel and Juanita, +her Indian maid, led the way. Her brother, carrying the three rifles, +brought up the rear, while in the middle Davies and Wemple struggled +with Mrs. Morgan and the two decrepit steeds. One, a flea-bitten roan, +groaned continually from the moment Mrs. Morgan's burden was put upon +him till she was shifted to the other horse. And this other, a mangy +sorrel, invariably lay down at the end of a quarter of a mile of Mrs. +Morgan. + +Miss Drexel laughed and joked and encouraged; and Wemple, in brutal +fashion, compelled Mrs. Morgan to walk every third quarter of a mile. +At the end of an hour the sorrel refused positively to get up, and, so, +was abandoned. Thereafter, Mrs. Morgan rode the roan alternate quarters +of miles, and between times walked--if _walk_ may describe her +stumbling progress on two preposterously tiny feet with a man supporting +her on either side. + +A mile from the river, the road became more civilized, running along the +side of a thousand acres of banana plantation. + +"Parslow's," young Drexel said. "He'll lose a year's crop now on account +of this mix-up." + +"Oh, look what I've found!" Miss Drexel called from the lead. + +"First machine that ever tackled this road," was young Drexel's +judgment, as they halted to stare at the tire-tracks. + +"But look at the tracks," his sister urged. "The machine must have come +right out of the bananas and climbed the bank." + +"Some machine to climb a bank like that," was Davies' comment. "What it +did do was to go down the bank--take a scout after it, Charley, while +Wemple and I get Mrs. Morgan off her fractious mount. No machine ever +built could travel far through those bananas." + +The flea-bitten roan, on its four legs upstanding, continued bravely to +stand until the lady was removed, whereupon, with a long sigh, it sank +down on the ground. Mrs. Morgan likewise sighed, sat down, and regarded +her tiny feet mournfully. + +"Go on, boys," she said. "Maybe you can find something at the river and +send back for me." + +But their indignant rejection of the plan never attained speech, for, at +that instant, from the green sea of banana trees beneath them, came the +sudden purr of an engine. A minute later the splutter of an exhaust told +them the silencer had been taken off. The huge-fronded banana trees were +violently agitated as by the threshing of a hidden Titan. They could +identify the changing of gears and the reversing and going ahead, until, +at the end of five minutes, a long low, black car burst from the wall of +greenery and charged the soft earth bank, but the earth was too soft, +and when, two-thirds of the way up, beaten, Charley Drexel braked the +car to a standstill, the earth crumbled from under the tires, and he ran +it down and back, the way he had come, until half-buried in the bananas. + +"'A Merry Oldsmobile!'" Miss Drexel quoted from the popular song, +clapping her hands. "Now, Martha, your troubles are over." + +"Six-cylinder, and sounds as if it hadn't been out of the shop a week, +or may I never ride in a machine again," Wemple remarked, looking to +Davies for confirmation. + +Davies nodded. + +"It's Allison's," he said. "Campos tried to shake him down for a private +loan, and--well, you know Allison. He told Campos to go to. And Campos, +in revenge, commandeered his new car. That was two days ago, before we +lifted a hand at Vera Cruz. Allison told me yesterday the last he'd +heard of the car it was on a steamboat bound up river. And here's where +they ditched it--but let's get a hustle on and get her into the +running." + +Three attempts they made, with young Drexel at the wheel; but the soft +earth and the pitch of the grade baffled. + +"She's got the power all right," young Drexel protested. "But she can't +bite into that mush." + +So far, they had spread on the ground the robes found in the car. +The men now added their coats, and Wemple, for additional traction, +unsaddled the roan, and spread the cinches, stirrup leathers, saddle +blanket, and bridle in the way of the wheels. The car took the +treacherous slope in a rush, with churning wheels biting into the woven +fabrics; and, with no more than a hint of hesitation, it cleared the +crest and swung into the road. + +"Isn't she the spunky devil!" Drexel exulted. "Say, she could climb the +side of a house if she could get traction." + +"Better put on that silencer again, if you don't want to play tag with +every soldier in the district," Wemple ordered, as they helped Mrs. +Morgan in. + +The road to the Dutch gusher compelled them to go through the outskirts +of Panuco town. Indian and half breed women gazed stolidly at the +strange vehicle, while the children and barking dogs clamorously +advertised its progress. Once, passing long lines of tethered federal +horses, they were challenged by a sentry; but at Wemple's "Throw on the +juice!" the car took the rutted road at fifty miles an hour. A shot +whistled after them. But it was not the shot that made Mrs. Morgan +scream. The cause was a series of hog-wallows masked with mud, which +nearly tore the steering wheel from Drexel's hands before he could +reduce speed. + +"Wonder it didn't break an axle," Davies growled. "Go on and take it +easy, Charley. We're past any interference." + +They swung into the Dutch camp and into the beginning of their real +troubles. The refugee steamboat had departed down river from the +Asphodel camp; _Chill II_ had disappeared, the superintendent knew +not how, along with the body of Peter Tonsburg; and the superintendent +was dubious of their remaining. + +"I've got to consider the owners," he told them. "This is the biggest +well in Mexico, and you know it--a hundred and eighty-five thousand +barrels daily flow. I've no right to risk it. We have no trouble with +the Mexicans. It's you Americans. If you stay here, I'll have to protect +you. And I can't protect you, anyway. We'll all lose our lives and +they'll destroy the well in the bargain. And if they fire it, it means +the entire Ebano oil field. The strata's too broken. We're flowing +twenty thousand barrels now, and we can't pinch down any further. As it +is, the oil's coming up outside the pipe. And we can't have a fight. +We've got to keep the oil moving." + +The men nodded. It was cold-blooded logic; but there was no fault to it. + +The harassed expression eased on the superintendent's face, and he +almost beamed on them for agreeing with him. + +"You've got a good machine there," he continued. "The ferry's at the +bank at Panuco, and once you're across, the rebels aren't so thick on +the north shore. Why, you can beat the steamboat back to Tampico by +hours. And it hasn't rained for days. The road won't be at all bad." + + * * * * * + +"Which is all very good," Davies observed to Wemple as they approached +Panuco, "except for the fact that the road on the other side was never +built for automobiles, much less for a long-bodied one like this. I wish +it were the Four instead of the Six." + +"And it would bother you with a Four to negotiate that hill at Aliso +where the road switchbacks above the river." + +"And we're going to do it with a Six or lose a perfectly good Six in +trying," Beth Drexel laughed to them. + +Avoiding the cavalry camp, they entered Panuco with all the speed the +ruts permitted, swinging dizzy corners to the squawking of chickens and +barking of dogs. To gain the ferry, they had to pass down one side of +the great plaza which was the heart of the city. Peon soldiers, drowsing +in the sun or clustering around the _cantinas_, stared stupidly at +them as they flashed past. Then a drunken major shouted a challenge from +the doorway of a _cantina_ and began vociferating orders, and as +they left the plaza behind they could hear rising the familiar mob-cry +"_Kill the Gringoes!_" + +"If any shooting begins, you women get down in the bottom of the car," +Davies commanded. "And there's the ferry all right. Be careful, +Charley." + +The machine plunged directly down the bank through a cut so deep that it +was more like a chute, struck the gangplank with a terrific bump, and +seemed fairly to leap on board. The ferry was scarcely longer than the +machine, and Drexel, visibly shaken by the closeness of the shave, +managed to stop only when six inches remained between the front wheels +and overboard. + +It was a cable ferry, operated by gasoline, and, while Wemple cast off +the mooring lines, Davies was making swift acquaintance with the engine. +The third turn-over started it, and he threw it into gear with the +windlass that began winding up the cable from the river's bottom. + +By the time they were in midstream a score of horsemen rode out on the +bank they had just left and opened a scattering fire. The party crowded +in the shelter of the car and listened to the occasional richochet of a +bullet. Once, only, the car was struck. + +"Here!--what are you up to!" Wemple demanded suddenly of Drexel, who had +exposed himself to fish a rifle out of the car. + +"Going to show the skunks what shooting is," was his answer. + +"No, you don't," Wemple said. "We're not here to fight, but to get +this party to Tampico." He remembered Peter Tonsburg's remark. "Whose +business is to live, Charley--that's our business. Anybody can get +killed. It's too easy these days." + +Still under fire, they moored at the north shore, and when Davies had +tossed overboard the igniter from the ferry engine and commandeered ten +gallons of its surplus gasoline, they took the steep, soft road up the +bank in a rush. + +"Look at her climb," Drexel uttered gleefully. "That Aliso hill won't +bother us at all. She'll put a crimp in it, that's what she'll do." + +"It isn't the hill, it's the sharp turn of the zig-zag that's liable to +put a crimp in her," Davies answered. "That road was never laid out for +autos, and no auto has ever been over it. They steamboated this one up." + +But trouble came before Aliso was reached. Where the road dipped +abruptly into a small jag of hollow that was almost V-shaped, it arose +out and became a hundred yards of deep sand. In order to have speed left +for the sand after he cleared the stiff up-grade of the V, Drexel was +compelled to hit the trough of the V with speed. Wemple clutched Miss +Drexel as she was on the verge of being bounced out. Mrs. Morgan, too +solid for such airiness, screamed from the pain of the bump; and even +the imperturbable Juanita fell to crossing herself and uttering prayers +with exceeding rapidity. + +The car cleared the crest and encountered the sand, going slower from +moment to moment, slewing and writhing and squirming from side to side. +The men leaped out and began shoving. Miss Drexel urged Juanita out and +followed. But the car came to a standstill, and Drexel, looking back and +pointing, showed the first sign of being beaten. Two things he pointed +to: a constitutional soldier on horseback a quarter of a mile in the +rear; and a portion of the narrow road that had fallen out bodily on the +far slope of the V. + +"Can't get at this sand unless we go back and try over, and we ditch the +car if we try to back up that." + +The ditch was a huge natural sump-hole, the stagnant surface of which +was a-crawl with slime twenty feet beneath. + +Davies and Wemple sprang to take the boy's place. + +"You can't do it," he urged. "You can get the back wheels past, but +right there you hit that little curve, and if you make it your front +wheel will be off the bank. If you don't make it, your back wheel'll be +off." + +Both men studied it carefully, then looked at each other. + +"We've got to," said Davies. + +"And we're going to," Wemple said, shoving his rival aside in comradely +fashion and taking the post of danger at the wheel. "You're just as good +as I at the wheel, Davies," he explained. "But you're a better shot. +Your job's cut out to go back and hold off any Greasers that show up." + +Davies took a rifle and strolled back with so ominous an air that the +lone cavalryman put spurs to his horse and fled. Mrs. Morgan was helped +out and sent plodding and tottering unaided on her way to the end of the +sand stretch. Miss Drexel and Juanita joined Charley in spreading the +coats and robes on the sand and in gathering and spreading small +branches, brush, and armfuls of a dry, brittle shrub. But all three +ceased from their exertions to watch Wemple as he shot the car backward +down the V and up. The car seemed first to stand on one end, then on the +other, and to reel drunkenly and to threaten to turn over into the +sump-hole when its right front wheel fell into the air where the road +had ceased to be. But the hind wheels bit and climbed the grade and out. + +Without pause, gathering speed down the perilous slope, Wemple came +ahead and up, gaining fifty feet of sand over the previous failure. More +of the alluvial soil of the road had dropped out at the bad place; but +he took the V in reverse, overhung the front wheel as before, and from +the top came ahead again. Four times he did this, gaining each time, but +each time knocking a bigger hole where the road fell out, until Miss +Drexel begged him not to try again. + +He pointed to a squad of horsemen coming at a gallop along the road a +mile in the rear, and took the V once again in reverse. + +"If only we had more stuff," Drexel groaned to his sister, as he threw +down a meager, hard-gathered armful of the dry and brittle shrub, and as +Wemple once more, with rush and roar, shot down the V. + +For an instant it seemed that the great car would turn over into the +sump, but the next instant it was past. It struck the bottom of the +hollow a mighty wallop, and bounced and upended to the steep pitch of +the climb. Miss Drexel, seized by inspiration or desperation, with a +quick movement stripped off her short, corduroy tramping-skirt, and, +looking very lithe and boyish in slender-cut pongee bloomers, ran along +the sand and dropped the skirt for a foothold for the slowly revolving +wheels. Almost, but not quite, did the car stop, then, gathering way, +with the others running alongside and shoving, it emerged on the hard +road. + +While they tossed the robes and coats and Miss Drexel's skirt into the +bottom of the car and got Mrs. Morgan on board, Davies overtook them. + +"Down on the bottom!--all of you!" he shouted, as he gained the running +board and the machine sprang away. A scattering of shots came from the +rear. + +"Whose business is to live!--hunch down!" Davies yelled in Wemple's ear, +accompanying the instruction with an open-handed blow on the shoulder. + +"Live yourself," Wemple grumbled as he obediently hunched. "Get your +head down. You're exposing yourself." + +The pursuit lasted but a little while, and died away in an occasional +distant shot. + +"They've quit," Davies announced. "It never entered their stupid heads +that they could have caught us on Aliso Hill." + + * * * * * + +"It can't be done," was Charley Drexel's quick judgment of youth, as the +machine stopped and they surveyed the acute-angled turn on the stiff +up-grade of Aliso. Beneath was the swift-running river. + +"Get out everybody!" Wemple commanded. "Up-side, all of you, if you +don't want the car to turn over on you. Spread traction wherever she +needs it." + +"Shoot her ahead, or back--she can't stop," Davies said quietly, from +the outer edge of the road, where he had taken position. "The earth's +crumbling away from under the tires every second she stands still." + +"Get out from under, or she'll be on top of you," Wemple ordered, as he +went ahead several yards. + +But again, after the car rested a minute, the light, dry earth began to +crack and crumble away from under the tires, rolling in a miniature +avalanche down the steep declivity into the water. And not until Wemple +had backed fifty yards down the narrow road did he find solid resting +for the car. He came ahead on foot and examined the acute angle formed +by the two zig-zags. Together with Davies he planned what was to be +done. + +"When you come you've got to come a-humping," Davies advised. "If you +stop anywhere for more than seconds, it's good night, and the walking +won't be fine." + +"She's full of fight, and she can do it. See that hard formation right +there on the inside wall. It couldn't have come at a better spot. If I +don't make her hind wheels climb half way up it, we'll start walking +about a second thereafter." + +"She's a two-fisted piece of machinery," Davies encouraged. "I know her +kind. If she can't do it, no machine can that was ever made. Am I right, +Beth?" + +"She's a regular, spunky she-devil," Miss Drexel laughed agreement. "And +so are the pair of you--er--of the male persuasion, I mean." + +Miss Drexel had never seemed so fascinating to either of them as she was +then, in the excitement quite unconscious of her abbreviated costume, +her brown hair flying, her eyes sparkling, her lips smiling. Each man +caught the other in that moment's pause to look, and each man sighed to +the other and looked frankly into each other's eyes ere he turned to the +work at hand. + +Wemple came up with his usual rush, but it was a gauged rush; and Davies +took the post of danger, the outside running board, where his weight +would help the broad tires to bite a little deeper into the treacherous +surface. If the road-edge crumbled away it was inevitable that he would +be caught under the car as it rolled over and down to the river. + +It was ahead and reverse, ahead and reverse, with only the briefest of +pauses in which to shift the gears. Wemple backed up the hard formation +on the inside bank till the car seemed standing on end, rushed ahead +till the earth of the outer edge broke under the front tires and +splashed in the water. Davies, now off, and again on the running board +when needed, accompanied the car in its jerky and erratic progress, +tossing robes and coats under the tires, calling instructions to Drexel +similarly occupied on the other side, and warning Miss Drexel out of the +way. + +"Oh, you Merry Olds, you Merry Olds, you Merry Olds," Wemple muttered +aloud, as if in prayer, as he wrestled the car about the narrow area, +gaining sometimes inches in pivoting it, sometimes fetching back up the +inner wall precisely at the spot previously attained, and, once, having +the car, with the surface of the roadbed under it, slide bodily and +sidewise, two feet down the road. + +The clapping of Miss Drexel's hands was the first warning Davies +received that the feat was accomplished, and, swinging on to the running +board, he found the car backing in the straight-away up the next zig-zag +and Wemple still chanting ecstatically, "Oh, you Merry Olds, you Merry +Olds!" + +There were no more grades nor zigzags between them and Tampico, but, so +narrow was the primitive road, two miles farther were backed before +space was found in which to turn around. One thing of importance +did lie between them and Tampico--namely the investing lines of the +constitutionalists. But here, at noon, fortune favored in the form of +three American soldiers of fortune, operators of machine guns, who had +fought the entire campaign with Villa from the beginning of the advance +from the Texan border. Under a white flag, Wemple drove the car across +the zone of debate into the federal lines, where good fortune, in the +guise of an ubiquitous German naval officer, again received them. + +"I think you are nearly the only Americans left in Tampico," he told +them. "About all the rest are lying out in the Gulf on the different +warships. But at the Southern Hotel there are several, and the situation +seems quieter." + +As they got out at the Southern, Davies laid his hand on the car and +murmured, "Good old girl!" Wemple followed suit. And Miss Drexel, +engaging both men's eyes and about to say something, was guilty of a +sudden moisture in her own eyes that made her turn to the car with a +caressing hand and repeat, "Good old girl!" + + + +***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK DUTCH COURAGE AND OTHER STORIES*** + + +******* This file should be named 14449.txt or 14449.zip ******* + + +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: +https://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/1/4/4/4/14449 + + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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