Chapter III (1)

With the problem still unsolved, however, I went to sleep, and awakened at eight bells of the afternoon watch. Going on deck, I found a gale of wind blowing out of the southeast, the ship hove down under the three lower topsails, spanker, spencer, and foretopmast staysail, and liquid hills of greenish-gray bombarding the weather-bow and occasionally climbing aboard. Jack, clad in yellow oilskins and sou'wester, stood on the poop in a fleeting patch of sunlight, trying to get an afternoon sight with his sextant as the sun peeped from behind the racing storm-clouds. Jim was also on the poop, but on the lee side, scurrying forward along the alley in advance of the irate second mate, who was profanely criticizing Jim's bad taste in coming to relieve the wheel without knowledge of steering or of the compass. Jack, busy with the sextant, did not witness the scene, nor hear the profanity; but I, having a personal and domestic interest in the matter, met the officer, returning after a final kick at Jim, and softly but intensely informed him that such language must cease within hearing of my wife, or I would deal with him as man to man. He apologized, in his way, and I then gave him the reasons I had given Limerick for keeping Jim out of sight, and secured his coöperation. Limerick was at the wheel, scowling in sympathy with me, and he whispered as I passed that it would not have happened had he been forward--that the men of the other watch had driven Jim aft to relieve the wheel before they had learned his status.

I joined Jack. He seemed himself, showing no sign of the night's agitation; yet he looked a little worried.

"Couldn't get a sight, dad," he said, swinging his sextant at arm's length, and smiling, rather sadly, I thought. "But the Long Island coast is about ten miles under the lee. How'd you like to drown at the end of a cable to-night?"

"Why," I asked, "is there any danger?"

"We're on the wrong tack, I think; but I expected it to veer to the east. It hangs right on from sou'-sou'east--dead on to the beach, and as it is it don't make much difference which tack we're on if we hit. If it shows the slightest sign of hauling to the west I'll wear ship and try to clear Montauk. If it don't, it's the anchors."

"Why not wear ship now?--whatever that is," I answered.

"Couldn't clear it anyway with the wind this way, and I'd only lose a full mile to leeward. Our drift under this canvas is quartering, and about three miles an hour."

"Is there no other recourse than wearing ship?"

"Clubhauling, if the wind shifts too late to wear. You see, wearing is putting a ship on the other tack by squaring away before the wind and then rounding to. Clubhauling is going about head to wind with the help of the lee anchor. It's about the most difficult operation in seamanship. We did it once in the _Monocacy_, but few merchant skippers learn the trick."

All this was unintelligible to me at the time, and I went down to my wife. I found her as comfortable as a woman may be in her first storm at sea, and then paid a professional visit to the first officer. Then I went forward on the reeling main-deck to see and encourage the unfortunate Jim. On the way I thought seriously of taking Jack into my confidence, but gave it up when I considered that the shock and mental agitation might not be well for him with his ship in danger. Then I thought of the alternative--could I not arouse a little courage in Jim, so that if a critical moment arrived Jack would not be obsessed with his cowardice, as he was the preceding evening? It was worth trying--at least worth thinking of. In any event Jim would be none the worse for a little bracing up.

I found him shivering in his wet garments, crouching from the blast of cold rain and spindrift under the weather-rail near the fore-rigging.

"Doctor," he sobbed, "take me away from these fellers. They hit me and kick me, and I'm afraid. I haven't a friend here but you."

"Jim," I asked kindly, "do you really believe me to be your friend? Have you full confidence that I can help you?"

"Yes, yes, doctor. You were always good to me, in the old days. And you married mother. Where is she, and Jack? Jack never cared for me, but I'd like to see mother 'fore I die."

"You shall see her sometime, Jim, but not yet--not for a long time, perhaps. You are worn out and want sleep. You want dry clothes and a good, long sleep, and you'll feel all right when you wake up. Stay here and when I beckon to you, come."

I had made up my mind. Going aft, I found my wife in the forward companionway, where she had been watching me. Her first question was of the poor fellow forward, and I said what I could to quiet the instinctive mother-love that she herself could not analyze. I told her that the man needed only a little care, which I was giving him. Then, when I had led her aft to her quarters, I sought the cabin steward, adjured him to silence, and arranged for exclusive possession of the forward cabin stateroom that adjoined my own. Going on deck, I imposed the same condition upon the second mate (who was beginning to respect me), and beckoned to the expectant Jim. He came on the run, and I soon had him in that room, with his wet rags exchanged for a dry suit of my own, and no one the wiser but the second mate and the steward, both of whom considered him a sick man taken aft for treatment. Which was more or less the truth.

Giving Jim a stimulant, I put him into the berth and covered him, for he still shivered from the chill of the storm. Then, holding his hand, I began a gentle, soothing flow of words in which I assured him that I was his friend, that I would so continue, that he was in no danger while I was with him, but that he must go to sleep, and rest, and that when he wakened he would feel braver and stronger, like his brother Jack, whom he surely must remember. In a few moments his eyelids had ceased to flutter, and soon after they closed under the steady, monotonous lullaby of my voice; but he was not yet asleep, and I continued, enjoining upon the weary, homeless, and desolate waif again and again--speaking more emphatically as his breathing grew heavier--that he must be like Jack, as he was when they were little boys together and shared the same impulses; that he must hark back to that time, and rouse up the strong, brave soul, common to each, which had developed in Jack, but which in him had been suppressed by years of continued defeat. Strongly insisting upon this toward the last, I finally left him, having actually talked him to sleep.

On deck I found Jack really worried. "If it would only shift," he said, "one way or the other. But here it is, hanging on out of the same quarter, and blowing harder. The storm-center is inland, and coming right at us. See the land yonder?"

A dim line of yellowish brown showed faintly through the dense blanket of gray to leeward--the only visible border between sea and sky. Two hours more would bring us perilously close.

Supper was served, and I ate, hurriedly and ravenously, my first meal in twenty-four hours; then I prepared my wife for what might come, saw that she was dressed warmly, and brought her on deck, where Jack supperless and anxious paced the deck abaft the house and watched the wind and compass. Forward, all hands, under the second mate, worked at the two chain cables in the lessening light of the evening, hauling them up from the lockers and ranging them ready for use. Occasionally, in the intervals of work, the men would look keenly aft and to leeward at the approaching line of coast. Every face wore a look of anxiety; all knew of the danger.

When the cables were ranged a quiet order from Jack brought a cast of the lead. Twelve fathoms was the finding.

"Lord grant we hit close to a life-saving station," said Jack, looking fondly at his mother. "No boats could live a minute in this sea. We're not far from the storm center. It's got to shift six points at least to clear us, now. I'll get ready to clubhaul, anyway."

An order to the tired but very efficient second mate resulted in two strong hawsers being brought up from the forepeak, coiled one each side on the poop abaft the house, and the ends led forward outside of all rigging to the hawsepipes in the bow, into which they were passed. Then another sounding was taken, showing ten fathoms of water.

"About half an hour more," said Jack to the second mate. "Fake your braces down for going about, and have the carpenter stand by at the windlass with a top-maul and a punch to slip the chain at any shackle." The officer stared in amazement, but went forward to execute the orders. Evidently, he knew as little of their portent as did I.

He reported in time, "All ready for stays, sir," and we waited. There was nothing more to do, it seemed, with the ship blowing almost straight on to a lee shore. Again was the lead cast, and nine fathoms was the result called out.

"All hands on deck, and stand by on the poop," roared Jack through his hands. The men trooped aft and crowded the weather alley.

A tall, unkempt figure with face tied up in cloths lumbered up the poop steps and approached Jack. "I b'long on deck, Cappen," he mumbled. "Can I be any good?"

"No, sir," answered Jack kindly, but sharply; "you cannot; but stay on deck and be ready for swimming."

The injured mate bowed his head and, first looking at the compass, then painfully aloft at the wind-vane, seated himself on the wheel-box. His chance of swimming was poor; he could hardly stand.

The steward came up, muffled to the chin in a long overcoat, and the sight of him brought to my mind poor Jim, lying asleep in a cabin berth. Down the after companionway I rushed, but was hardly clear of the stairs before I felt the ship heel still farther under a furious blast of wind, then straighten nearly upright; and over and above the sound of rattling canvas came Jack's thundering roar: "Keep full. Hard up your wheel. Stand by for stays. Down off--" Something had interrupted the order. I heard my wife scream, but I hurried into the forward cabin after Jim, just in time to see him leave the stateroom and dart out through the forward door.

I followed him out, but he was not in sight on the main deck, nor was he among the men floundering down the poop steps to stations. So I mounted to the poop; and there, prone upon his back in the alley, was the unconscious form of Jack, with blood upon his face, and his mother bending over him.

"The wind shifted, and the mizzen royal-yard shook out of her," said the second mate from near the wheel, "and something came down and hit him on the head."

Lifting my wife to her feet, I examined him hurriedly, but found no cause for alarm. He was simply stunned by some falling object. "Let him lie where he is, and he'll come to directly," I said, and, leaving him to his mother, I joined the second mate to ask of Jim.

But a voice from the top of the house interrupted my query--a voice like the blast of a speaking-trumpet, strangely like Jack's. And there was Jim beside the mizzenmast, bareheaded and erect, his stoop-shoulders squared, his eyes staring straight before him into the horizontal rain and drift from the combers. "Ready about," he had said in that borrowed voice. "Hard alee!"

My wife screamed again, stood up, and stared at the figure on the house, and in a bound I had reached her.

"It's your boy Jim," I said in her ear, "but keep quiet. He's asleep." She knew what I meant, and stood still, staring with wide-open, hungry eyes at Jim, with an occasional downward glance at Jack.

"Get down off that house," sang out the second mate angrily.

"Let him alone," I shouted, "and do what he orders. Do you hear? Obey his orders to the letter. They will be correct."

I hardly knew this myself, but the second mate believed me. He motioned to the helmsman, who ground the wheel hard down. Forward, the forecastle men had let go the foretopmast staysail sheet, and this sail flapped furiously as the ship came slowly up to the wind. I hastened to the compass and looked. Though I could not have named the points, I could see that the wind was now blowing from the southwest, and that the ship _had_ been heading nearly straight for that line of sand. I went back to my wife, and Jim turned his expressionless face and sleepy eyes toward the second mate, who had nervously followed me.

"Go forward," Jim commanded; "cockbill and stand by the lee anchor to let go at the word; then stand by with the carpenter to make fast the spring-line to the chain forward of the windlass, and to slip the chain at the first shackle abaft. And send two men aft to attend this line at the quarter-bitt."

"Aye, aye, sir," answered the astounded officer, hastening to obey.

Limerick was one of the men sent aft to the spring-line, and his amazement exceeded that of the other. "Goin' to clubhaul her," he said to me, "an' he don't know the compass, he's only a barber man an' no sailor. It beats my goin' to sea."

With my arm about my wife I watched the somnambulist, ready to speak to him if I thought the occasion warranted it, ready to prevent others from speaking; for the sleepy mind of Jim--or the soul of the unconscious Jack, if you like--might obey an unwise or misleading word, even now.

Slowly and more slowly the great ship came up against the pounding of the southerly seas, wavered, and stopped with the weather leech of the maintopsail just lifting.

"Let go the lee anchor," thundered Jim. The anchor was dropped, and the chain rattled out of the hawse-pipe.

"Maintopsail haul," came the next order from Jim in the same vibrant voice. The lee main- and weather cro'-jack braces were cast off, and the after yards came around with a swing and a crash that threatened to take them out of her; but they held, and the opposite braces were tautened.

"Is Jim a sailor, too?" my wife whispered.

"No," I answered gently. "He is doing Jack's work for him. Thank God for your boy to-night. He is saving our lives."

Slowly the ship's head sagged away from the wind; then it stopped and a tremor went through her. The anchor had bit, but was dragging.

"Pay out on that chain," roared Jim to the forecastle, then to Limerick he said quietly, "Catch a turn with that spring and stand by to slack away."

"Very good, sorr," answered Limerick, as he took a turn with the line around the bitt. "Oh, he's a navy officer, all right, sorr," he said joyously, but softly to me. "I've been there an' I know 'em."

Again the ship's nose drew up into the wind under the strain of the still dragging anchor, and when head to it, with the foretopsail aback and tending to throw her still farther, Jim called out: "Hang on to your chain. Make fast the spring to the chain, and knock out the shackle-pin." Then he waited a moment or two, until the heaving ship unmistakably pointed to the southward of the wind's eye, and shouted: "All hands on the forebraces. Fore bowline. Let go and haul. Slip the chain." Then quietly to Limerick: "Handsomely on that spring when the strain comes. Don't part it."

"Aye, aye, sir," laughed Limerick. "I've been in the service, sorr."

"Not a word to him," I said, bounding toward Limerick. "Not a word. He knows what he is doing."

The end of the chain had rattled out of the hawse-pipe and under the tension of the line to the quarter the big ship was paying off to the southward, while the men slowly hauled the foreyard around. When it finally filled and was steadied, and the ship brought up as high as she would lay, the last of the spring-line slipped out of Limerick's hands and went overboard. And now the big first mate, who had quietly watched the whole operation from the wheel-box, approached and studied the compass.

"The wind is hauling all the time," he said through his swollen jaws, "and we'll have a fair wind to the open sea. But who is that man? He kept her off the beach. She'd 'a' hit in a few minutes more."

"He's captain of the ship," I answered.

But Jim was not acting like a captain now. He ran to the monkey-rail at the side of the house, and partly climbed over to descend. Then he went back and resumed his position at the mizzenmast. Then he made another attempt, succeeded, and, gaining the alley, sped forward to the steps and went down them. A groan from Jack, followed by his mother's cry of sympathy, apprised me of the reason. Jack was recovering consciousness, and after assuring myself that he was in his right mind, I left him, still dazed and stupid, in the care of his mother, and leisurely followed Jim, finding him just where I expected to--sound asleep in the stateroom berth. I wakened him, and he sat up, blinking at me.

"Lordy, what a dream, doctor. Mother and Jack--oh, I forget," he said sleepily. "And something hit me on the head--here." He felt of the spot on his head where Jack had been struck.

"Come out on deck, Jim," I said, and he followed me.

"How do you feel now, Jim?"

"Fine, doctor, but where's this boat going, I'd like to know?"

"Feel afraid of the water, now?"

"Not a bit. Why, it can't hurt anyone, can it--unless you fall into it?"

"Afraid of those men forward, Jim?"

"No, I'm not." His face took on a look of defiance. "Why, doctor, I could lick most o' that crowd, couldn't I? I feel different, somehow. But that dream, doctor, about mother and Jack. That dream meant something. Where are they, and how are they?"

"Come below, Jim."

This is not a story of sentiment, so that reunion will not be described. This story is a question, with a large interrogation point. The question is: What is the human soul? Is it an entity, or a possible merging of entities? Is it a collection of memory clusters, any of which may assume an individuality, or is it a series of mental planes or concentric spheres? Jack is Jack and Jim is Jim, and there is a separate ego to each. But what part of Jim's soul left him to obsess Jack during the fracas forward when Jack was awake, and why did it not come again before Jack was struck down, and when he was but normally disturbed over the ship's peril. And how much or how little of Jack went into Jim under my suggestion to the latter to be like him, which waited until Jack was unconscious before acting, and which left him when Jack awoke to claim it?

We are sailing south with a crew and a first mate that think Jim a fugitive from justice, protected by the skipper, and with a second mate who thinks me the devil and Jim my familiar. There is a white-haired, happy woman growing young in her aroused mother-love; and there is a former very promising hobo developing surprising qualities of mind and seamanship under mine and Jack's tutelage. But from none of these can I get any light. I am only a village practitioner, and I submit the question to others: What is the human soul?

THE BROTHERS

It is popularly believed that twins grow up in mutual love and loyalty--and, when properly reared, this is not only probable, but almost imperative--but these two grew up in mutual hatred and antagonism; even though in face, form, brain, mind, and soul they were as alike as the proverbial peas in a pod. They received the same limited education in the same schools and classes, and up to the period of this story were never apart; not because either so chose, but because of the common influences of their environment, which decreed the same paths and channels of thought and initiative.

They were orphans, and had their home with an illiterate stepfather, whose early mistake of punishing one child for the fault of the other raised the first barrier between them. The guilty boy was amused at the mistake; but the victim, smarting with pain and a sense of injustice, could not appreciate the humor of the situation, and waited for a reversal of conditions, which, not happening immediately, he brought about by a deliberate offense and an accusation of the other.

Then followed reprisal met with reprisal and in time each boy hated the other with a hatred that dominated all other emotions, and, inspired by previous grievance, would hesitate at no dishonorable and unboyish trick whereby he might create trouble for him. It was genuine community of soul; for it manifested itself in other and more pleasing ways, and without mutual prompting. If one felt like playing hooky, the other felt the impulse, and they would come together; but only to separate with snarls. If one liked another boy, the twin shared the liking; and, conversely, each disliked the enemy of the other, though never to the point of defending him. They fought each other often; but never was victory given to either. Each battle was a draw, and supremacy could not be established; for neither would surrender until the other was ready to.

So conditioned, physically, mentally, and morally, the cumulative effect of the vicarious suffering of each brought them to the murder mind when, at nineteen, they fell in love with the same maiden. The episode need only be mentioned. They made love in the same way, and the maiden repulsed each with the same catholic impartiality. Neither might have won her alone; but both thought so, and in the furious battle with fists, stones, and clubs that followed they received injuries which, with the stepfatherly horse-whipping that came to them, laid them up for a week. Had they been endowed with a sense of humor, or had they been separated long enough to acquire one, they might have been spared the soul-consuming malignancy that now possessed them; as it was, each rose from bed while hardly able to walk, and, resolved to get away from the other, ran away from home, stowing away in the same ship, a three-skysail yarder bound to Sydney.

These things I learned from the maiden referred to, whose father commanded the big ship, and from later inquiry in their native village. From now on, however, they were more or less under my immediate attention; for I was second mate of that ship.

Mr. Butterell, the first mate, hauled Bill out of the paint locker about the same time that I found Tom in the lazarette, and we brought the two together under the break of the poop for the captain's inspection and decision. It was plain from their faces as they eyed each other that neither had expected to find the other on board; but, after glaring at each other for a moment, they assumed a moody indifference, which left them only for an instant when a low voice on the poop above said, "Why, Papa! The Landon boys!"

I was surprised myself--though agreeably so--for I did not know that Mabel was to make the voyage with us, and, looking up to where she stood with her father, I received a nod and a smile.

A little here, in parenthesis, about myself. I was twenty-four, and had sailed four voyages with Captain Merwin, the last two as second mate, mainly to keep in touch with this girl who, as a child of fourteen, had been my shipmate on the first. And because of this I felt a secret disappointment that the captain had not signed me first mate on this occasion instead of second; for I had entertained a youthful hope and ambition to present myself to her as her father's first officer when we met again. But the highly efficient, handsome, and self-confident Mr. Butterell had forestalled me in this; though I did not dream at the time that he would also forestall me with Mabel, or that the two loutish stowaways had attempted to.

They were tall, well built, and with a look of crafty intelligence in their faces, which, with their embarrassment and their ill-fitting clothes, bespoke the village loafer. Only by these clothes could they be told apart. They were exactly alike, each with the same red hair, high cheekbones, and squinting green eyes, and each chewed tobacco and spat on the deck in a way to bring disapproval to the face of the gray old skipper.

"You are stowaways," he said, "and, as my daughter informs me, brothers, from my own home town. Why have you done this?"

"To get away from him," grunted Tom, jerking his thumb toward Bill. "I hate him like so much pizen."

"And you?" asked the skipper of Bill.

"I didn't know I'd find him here," answered Bill with a vindictive squint at Tom, "or I wouldn't ha' come."

"Twin brothers," commented the captain, "and on bad terms! Well, you will have little time to quarrel aboard this ship, and plenty of time to make friends. It is too late to get rid of you; so you must work. Put them in separate watches, Mr. Butterell."

"Yes, sir," answered Mr. Butterell, reaching for Bill. "I choose you," he added, as his grip closed on Bill's collar. Then he swung him at arm's length aft toward the poop then forward with all his strength, hurling him, rolling and scrambling wildly, fully thirty feet along the deck. Then, with a quick, self-satisfied smirk up at those on the poop, he repeated the feat upon Tom.

Now a few words about Mr. Butterell. He was, all in all, the most efficient executive officer I had ever sailed with. He knew his business, from knotting a rope yarn up to masting a ship. In shortening sail he could get canvas in as though it obeyed an intelligent knowledge of his wish; but it was really because of his wonderful voice and vocabulary. He never missed or repeated an order, and could send his words against a gale from the poop to the weather fore earing as distinctly and articulately as he would read off morning sights to the skipper.

Unlike myself, a graduate of the schoolship St. Mary, he had worked his way up from the forecastle; yet he had mastered more of navigation than do most merchant skippers, and could figure great circle sailing and take star and lunar sights. Besides, as I learned on further association with him, he possessed a conversational power rare in seafaring men, but developed in him by wide reading and wide-open eyes. Added to this, he had the build and strength of a giant, the agility of a panther, the fistic skill of a prize-fighter--and the vanity of a spoiled child.

He seemed unable to perform the most commonplace action without a half-involuntary and quick look around to notice some possible token of approval, and in the absence of his social or professional equals would seek it from the men, even from the Chinese cook. And with this weakness was allied another, still more incompatible with his assured mental and physical strength--an active hatred for the class of men from which he had risen. It was the first of these that had prompted that quick smirk toward the poop, and the second that impelled him to follow the two human projectiles and, with kicks, clouts, and forceful language, hasten their progress forward.

It was nearly four bells of the first dog-watch, or, more explicitly, about ten minutes to six in the evening, of the first day out, and though the watches had not yet been chosen half the crew had gone to supper at three bells, when the day's work was done, and now, having finished, had struggled out of the forecastle lighting their pipes. Also the captain, his daughter, and Mr. Butterell had eaten supper; but the rest of the men and myself would not have ours until four bells. Hence, for the time, all hands were on deck to witness the breaking in of the stowaways.

I could see no approval in the faces of the men as they watched the brutal spectacle, and in Mabel's, as I glanced upward, I saw horror and fright; but in Captain Merwin's face was nothing to indicate approval or disapproval. My own, however, must have reflected the strong disgust that I felt; for the captain, seizing his daughter's arm, said, "Come, Mabel," and led her aft.

"Afraid," I muttered bitterly, "to antagonize his fancy first mate!" For Captain Merwin was a kindly man, and I had often heard him correct his officers for assaulting the men.

The exhibition of prowess went merrily on, Mr. Butterell using the helpless youths like billiard balls, knocking one against the other and frequently making a carom against the rail. But at the main hatch, after a peculiarly successful fist play in which both brothers struck the rail and clung to it, Mr. Butterell turned his head quickly, looked aft with the smirking expectancy of his face, and, finding the audience for which he had performed no longer at the break of the poop, gave over the play, and started aft with his face as sober as my own.

And before he had taken three steps one of the brothers--I could not tell which at the distance--wrenched an iron belaying pin from the rail and hurled it at his head. It missed; but continued on a flat trajectory to the cabin, from which it rebounded after making an inch dent and whirled forward again and over the lee rail. Had Mr. Butterell's head stopped it, he would never have moved or spoken again.

He wheeled when the pin whizzed by him, and with a bound put himself between the two and the forecastle; for each had turned forward.

"Who threw that belaying pin?" he said quietly but menacingly.

"He throwed it; I didn't," answered one, pointing to the other.

"He lies!" retorted the accused one. "He throwed it himself."

"I lie, do I?"

"Yes, you lie!"

And then they were at each other's throats. Forgetting the common enemy, they clenched tightly and whirled about the deck, bending this way and that, striving to trip each other, striking with short uppercuts, and even attempting to bite. But at this the interested men forward crowed aft with sober faces, and Mr. Butterell, sensing their mood, stepped jauntily past the fighters and came aft with an amused smile on his face. Before he reached my vicinity I saw the men part the two and lead them forward.

"Did you," said Mr. Butterell to me, his smile leaving him as he looked at me, "did you, I say, see which one threw that pin?"

"I saw it thrown, sir," I answered; "but I could not tell which one threw it."

"And wouldn't tell me if you could!" he sneered. "I can see that in your face."

"Mr. Butterell," I said as calmly as was possible, "if I knew which one threw it, I should tell you; for their unbrotherly conduct just now destroyed what sympathy I may have felt for them."

"Sympathy for them!" he exploded. And now I knew the animus of his heckling of me--his audience was again looking down at us. "Sympathy for them!" He shook one finger under my nose. "Now I'll tell you, young fellow," he continued, "before we go any further, that I'm first mate of this craft and I'll dictate the sympathies of any man under me!"

"And I'm second," I retorted hotly, "with a right to sympathize with whom I like! And take your hand away from my face, Mr. Butterell!"

* * * * *

Let me forestall any sympathy I may have aroused for myself. I am not the hero of this story. There is a heroine, but no hero; for neither the mild-natured Captain Merwin, half hypnotized by the dashing Mr. Butterell into a surrender of his principles, Mr. Butterell, actuated by the cheapest motives of vanity and self-love, nor myself, embittered by disappointment, jealousy, and other unworthy emotions--none of us, I say, acted a heroic part from beginning to end. Mr. Butterell took his hand away from my face, as I had demanded; but it became a fist and came back.

I parried the blow and struck back at his face; but it was like parrying a battering ram and striking a stone wall. It was the only blow I struck in that fight, if fight it may be called. He was larger, heavier, and quicker than myself, and soon I felt his fist crashing between my eyes, and my world went out in a blinding flash of light. I came to in a few moments, I think, and found myself in the lee scuppers with Mabel bending over me, her face all sympathy and kindliness. I could barely see it between my closing eyelids; but could also see Mr. Butterell standing up to windward with Captain Merwin, laughingly explaining his code of ethics. "Yes, sir," he was saying. "I consider that there's less difference between your second mate and the dubs I kicked forward than between myself and a captain. That goes, Captain Merwin, or you can put me aboard the first inbound ship!"

I struggled to my feet and, pushing past Mabel, approached the two as the captain answered, "Yes, yes, Mr. Butterell, I understand; but I am sorry, very sorry. I had hoped--I hope there will be no more fighting."

"No, sir," I broke in rather insanely, "there'll be no more fighting with fists, I promise you that. But let me say to you, sir," I faced Mr. Butterell, "that there's less difference between you and a dead man than there is between you and a captain. If you ever strike me again, I'll kill you, if I have to knife you through your window while you are asleep."

Then, as though it were a deathknell, four bells struck at the wheel.

I spoke loudly in my rage, and pain, and blindness--for I could not see them now--and I know my words rang through the ship from end to end, and must have been heard by the listening crew, for a few responsive whoops came from forward. But also came a shivery "Oh, oh!" from Mabel, and stern words from the captain.

"Tut, tut, Mr. Rogers!" he said. "That will do! You are setting a bad example to the men. Go to your room, bathe your eyes, and get your supper. If you cannot stand watch at eight bells, I will stand watch for you; but no more of this talk of killing! I did not think it of you!"

And, to the sound of Mr. Butterell's soft, derisive chuckling, he half led, half pushed me into the companion to my room on the starboard side of the passage. With the exception of the log desk in the mate's room, the two apartments were similar, each with a window looking out on the main deck, and another, over the berth opening into the alley. I could not eat, and as I crawled blindly into the berth, like a bad boy sent supperless to bed, and opened the window to let air in on my fevered face, I could not help thinking how easy it would be to carry out my threat. In imagination I did so; but I was not yet sane.

While few men pass through life without at least one sound thrashing from schoolmate or fellow man, still fewer, I think, receive that thrashing under such peculiarly humiliating conditions as those attending mine, and fewer yet, at my age, know that vengeance, properly disregarded, will take care of itself. So I fumed through the dog-watch, listening to the hateful sound of the mate's voice--now chatting with Mabel, again raised in a roaring behest to the men--and to the still more hateful sound of Mabel's musical laughter at his sallies, until seven bells, when he called the men to the pumps, which, whether the ship leaks or not, are manned at this time of day. Then the captain came with the steward, prescribed remedies from the medicine chest, and gave me such fatherly, grieved, and reprehensive admonishment as to irritate me past all silence and endurance.

"Look out, sir," I said at last, "that you don't get yours!"

"What do you mean, sir?" he asked sternly as he drew back from me. "Do you threaten me, Mr. Rogers?"

"No, captain, I do not," I answered. "I mean that he has practically threatened you. I heard him claim equality with you in your presence, after picking this quarrel with me and then likening me to the stowaways. I am your second mate. He will treat you the same, sir, when it suits him."

"Nonsense, young man!"

"No nonsense about it, captain!" I raved. "There'll be trouble aboard this ship yet, trouble that'll be none o' my making. Why didn't you ship a Bengal tiger and be done with it? You could ha' got one cheaper than a mate's pay for the passage."

"I begin to think you resent my shipping any kind of mate, except yourself."

"Or why didn't you go to a drygoods store, if you wanted a ladykiller to fool your daughter," I continued, forgetting the "sir" in my anger and jealousy.

"My daughter? What do you mean, sir, by such reference to my daughter?"

"Oh, haven't you caught on yet, Captain Merwin?" I asked, as recklessly and sarcastically as an unlicked schoolboy. "Not twelve hours on board, and he not only knocks me out, but makes love over my window to the girl I've worked and waited for since I saw her as a child. What d'you s'pose, captain, that I've stuck to this ship for? To have everything taken by him, and then remain satisfied? Well, I s'pose I'll have to be satisfied. He's evidently just the kind of man she likes. Some women prefer a brute to a man."

I paused for lack of breath, and Captain Merwin remained silent for a moment or two; then he said quietly, "You are unfit to talk or to think, much less to work. I will choose your men and stand your watch until you are well. Meanwhile, go to sleep. I will apprise my daughter of your opinion of her."

But as he left my room I felt that he would not need to. Through my open window came Mr. Butterell's gleeful snicker and the soft murmur of Mabel's voice as they moved away.

I was able to see in three days, and returned to duty, first offering to Captain Merwin from my cooler and saner viewpoint an apology for my manner, which he graciously accepted. But I made no apology to Mr. Butterell, nor even a withdrawal of my threat, preferring to let it hang over him as a possible deterrent. As it was a "watch and watch" ship, we met only at eight bells, to report the course, distance run, and the happenings of the last four hours, so that our strained relations did not matter. And that these relations should not suffer further straining, Captain Merwin, seeing me hopeless, decreed that the mate's log desk be placed in the passage between our rooms, so that I could enter up the log slate at the end of my watch without trespassing upon his atmosphere.

As for Mabel, she had partaken of my blindness; she did not see me, even when she looked at me. But this gave me a larger opportunity to look at her, a dismal pleasure which I enjoyed to the utmost.

I cannot describe in detail the peculiar grace, and charm, and beauty with which this girl appealed to me. All men know, and all men at some time in their lives invest some one woman with such attributes, which, perhaps, others cannot see. As a child, with yellow hair and sea-blue eyes, Mabel Merwin had seemed to me a creature lent from Heaven to lead me upward; now matured to perfect womanhood, her sea-blue eyes the same, but her hair darkened to a golden bronze and her creamy complexion to an orange tint by sun and wind, she was more than ever one of another world, unable to descend to my own. For mine was a world of outer and under darkness, of watch and worry, of work and dirt, of profane, hateful, jealous, and murderous thought which, without knowing it, I shared with the twin brothers. I could understand the baleful glitter in their eyes when they looked at the mate; but, uninformed at the time, nothing of the hungry adoration with which they regarded the girl.

They were in separate watches, slept in separate forecastles, and did not meet except in the dog-watches, when the crew--an exceptionally fine and well-behaved body of men--policed them and kept them from fighting. In other respects they did well. Poorly educated, yet they were splendid material from which to develop the hardy, enduring deep-water sailor, and they advanced rapidly.

Tom was in my watch, and received some tutelage from me; but I am positive that Bill, in the other watch, got nothing from the mate but kicks, cuffs, and abuse. Yet he seemed to absorb something from his own brother; for, side by side, yet without speaking, they acquired proficiency; until, when each knew the ropes, could box the compass, steer, and go aloft to a skysail the captain called them aft, complimented them, and placed them on the articles under pay. Then they steered a regular trick, and drew clothing from the slop chest--also sheath knives, which every skipper will deny to a bad crew and accord to a good; for, worn outside all clothing, they are the handiest tools aboard ship. Tom and Bill wore theirs as proudly as the ablest seaman we had. But, with clothing alike, it was harder than ever to tell them apart.

We were now down off the Cape and had begun the long eastering on the fortieth parallel. Captain Merwin, as was usual with him when his officers and crew had settled into place, had retired to his world of books and study, leaving, except the working out of morning sights, the navigation, and the handling of the ship, to the mate. Also, it seemed, he had left to him the welfare of his daughter; for Mr. Butterell devoted to her all the time he could spare from his work, and would even remain up in his watch below to talk with her.

As for her, she seemed to enjoy his society, would talk with him by the hour, watch him with interest as he would stand at the break of the poop bellowing orders to the men, and respond to his inevitable smirk with the sweetest of smiles. She gave me never a look, and, as the captain seldom spoke to me now, and the mate not at all except in the way of work, my sense of isolation had so grown upon me that I resolved this passage would be my last with Captain Merwin.

In this rebellious mood I lay smoking in my berth one second dog-watch, waiting for eight bells and listening to the mate's sallies and Mabel's laughter through the open window of my room, and to an occasional sharp word of command to Bill, who, at the wheel, was making hard work of steering. Though it was southern summer and warm, a half-gale blew from the starboard quarter, and this, with the following sea, would have taxed the powers of a better helmsman than Bill. But, instead of sending such a better man to relieve Bill, Mr. Butterell chose to heckle the poor greenhorn until, as I could see by ranging the clouds through my window, the ship was yawing frightfully, two points each side of her course, and in danger of broaching to or going by the lee. Some skippers and mates never learn that bad steering is not improved by criticism, and when eight bells struck I went on deck, angry and disgusted with the purblind bully.

I found the ship staggering along under an unnecessary and unwise press of after canvas, the mate still berating Bill, who was desperately heaving on the wheel, and Mabel seated in a deck chair on the weather, or starboard, quarter. Following me along the lee alley came the twin brother Tom to relieve Bill at the wheel; but before allowing him to take the spokes I steadied the ship myself. Then I relinquished the spokes to Tom and turned officially to relieve the mate.

But he had other matters on his mind. Collaring Bill before he could give the course to his brother, he hurled him violently against the lee quarter rail, then followed and drove him, with kicks and punches, forward along the alley.

"Now, then, you long-jawed farmer," he shouted to the cowering man, "up aloft wi' you! Up the lee rigging you go, and over the lee futtock rigging, to the upper topsail yard, and out the lee yardarm! Hear me? The lee upper topsail yardarm, where you keep a lookout till four bells."

"Yes, sir," answered Bill in a curious throaty voice as he scrambled into the rigging.

"And when the bells strike, you answer them, d'you hear? You sing out, 'One bell--all's well! Two bells--all's well!' and so on. Hear?"

"I hear," snarled Bill, "and by Gawd I'll have your life for this!"

Mr. Butterell's life for a second time had been threatened on board that ship, and there was an explosiveness in the words, "I'll have your life for this!" that indicated their sincerity. Then followed a volley of village billingsgate as Bill made the hard climb on the slackened rigging, and Mabel rose from her seat; but the mate's answer silenced Bill, and she resumed it.

"Here!" he said, picking up Bill's knife, which had evidently jolted out of its sheath in the fracas. "This is what you want? I'll put it right here, on the house over my window. You can knife me when I'm asleep, and save your friend the trouble." Then he placed the knife carefully within the covering board of the house, and came aft with his smirk, strongly visible in the moonlight.

I was standing beside Tom watching his steering--for he was getting as nervous over it as his brother--and directly in front of Mabel's chair. But I was not yet in charge of the deck.

"Mr. Butterell," said the girl calmly as he approached, "I must ask you not to arouse the men to such language as I have just been compelled to listen to. I am not accustomed to it."

The smirk left his face and it took on a scowl as he realized my presence. "Why, Miss Merwin," he stammered. "I didn't suppose--"

"That is all, Mr. Butterell!" she interrupted. "I do not care to argue."

"Course due east," he growled, turning to me.

"Due east, sir," I answered.

"And keep that mutt aloft till four bells. If he fails to answer the bells, keep him aloft the whole watch."

"Is that all, sir? Is the watch relieved?"

"Watch is relieved, all right. No need o' mustering and counting this moonlight night. You have the deck now. Watch out!"

"Yes, sir," I answered; then, stepping into the weather alley, I sent my voice forward, "Weather main- and cro'-jack clew-garnets and buntlines," I shouted, "and come aft here, some o' you, and take in this spanker!"

"What are you taking in the spanker for?" asked the mate as I resumed my position beside Tom, ready to aid him if necessary.

"Do you want charge of the deck again, sir?" I answered. "It's one man's job."

"Leave the spanker on her. Haul up your clews, if you like," he said. Then he began a short pacing back and forth before the wheel, evidently working himself into a rage that was based on the girl's rebuff. He continued this pacing until the men, under the boatswain of the watch, had hauled up the weather clews, which allowed the wind to impinge upon the foresail. Then, seeing that Tom made easier work of the steering--even though, because of the spanker, he steered with the wheel nearly hard up--Mr. Butterell was ready for an explosion.

"You look out, young fellow!" he said, halting me as I moved toward the weather alley. "I'll take the conceit out o' you yet!"

I looked him squarely in the eyes. I do not know that Mabel's rebuke had heartened me. I only remembered that I had lost her regard, that I had lost my skipper's good will, and that the last five years of work and effort, as far as advancement was concerned, had been wasted.

"Take care, sir," I said, quietly, "and do not forget the conditions under which I have allowed you to live this long!"

Then, in a cold rage, I turned my back on him and took my place at the forward end of the alley, where I could stand my watch in touch with both ends of the ship. He did not follow, and soon I heard him talking amicably with Mabel.

I did not look aft, as I could gauge Tom's steering by the swing of the fore yard against the few stars showing in the strong moonlight, and I noticed that the men forward were seeking sheltered and shady spots to doze away the watch--as is always permitted in easy ships--and that the lookout on the forecastle deck was pacing back and forth, wide awake. All was well with the ship, and with me, except for the irritating conversation on the quarter.

The talk continued until three bells had struck--and with each striking of the bell Bill aloft had obediently answered--then the mate shouldered his way past me and went to his room, leaving the girl still seated in the chair. I did not go aft again until nearly four bells, when I went to take the reading of the patent log at the taffrail. As I passed the girl she half rose, as though to speak to me; then, as I moved sullenly on, sank back in her chair. A glance into the binnacle showed me the ship on her course, and a glance at Tom showed him with his left shoulder braced against a spoke, steering by easing the wheel down and painfully heaving it up. I looked aloft at the swelling canvas, noticed that Bill sprawled over the lee upper topsail yard, and saw that nothing could be done in the way of bracing the yards. The spanker should have come in; for, with the ship griping like this, she would have broached to in ten seconds if Tom lost his grip on the wheel. But the mate had forbidden it, and I let it stand.

I took the reading of the log, and again passed stiffly before Mabel, going forward again by the weather alley, down the steps, and into the companionway to the desk in the passage, where I jotted down on the log slate the happenings of the watch. I could hear Mr. Butterell snoring heavily in his room on the lee, or port, side, and, wondering at his utterly nerveless makeup in being able to go to sleep so readily after a fit of anger, I closed the slate and turned toward the door.

At this moment a hoarse, guttural, hair-raising scream rang out, followed instantly by another in a higher key, and I sprang out, looking wildly about me for the cause. Mabel lay prone on the deck at the foot of the lee steps and I reached her at a bound. There was no blood nor marks, nothing to show what had hurt her and caused her to scream, and I stood up, bewildered. The men forward had wakened, and some were coming aft haltingly. I called to them, to question them, when out of the companion door burst the captain in his pajamas.

"What's happened?" he asked excitedly. "My girl screamed! What is it?"

"I do not know, sir," I answered. "I heard her scream from the log desk, and found her here."

He examined the unconscious girl, then said, "She has only fainted, I think. Call the mate and the steward. We must get her below."