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THE MIGGER OF THE NARCISSUS
A tale of the Forecastle Copyright, 1897, by Bacheller Syndicate. SYNOPSIS. This Is a narrative of the voyage of the •hip "Narcissus" from Bombay to Eng land. Captain Allistoun is her commander, end Messrs. Baker and Crelghton. chief and second mates. The other characters, with the exception of Podmore, the cook, a most pious individual, are sailors, and the principal ones connected with the Btory arc: Sullivan, an old seaman, silent and a philosopher; Donkin, a shirking, worth less follow, despised by all; Craik, nick named Belfast; Knowles, a lame sailor; Wamibo, n Russian Finn: Archie: Char ley;—and James Wait (Jimmy). Wait is a West India negro, a powerfully built fellow, but undoubtedly a victim of con sumption. In a short time he becomes Incapacitated for work, and a special cab in is fitted up for him. He exercises a strange fascination over the men. He treats, them abominably, and although many believe that he is shamming, they cannot resist sympathy, and sacrifice for his sake. During a terrible gale the ship Is for a time thrown on her beam ends, and Jimmy Is rescued from his cabin with much heroic effort. Donkin tries to Incite the men to rebellion. They seem Inclined to listen to him. An opportunity presents Itself one night when Jimmy and the cook get Into an altercation ln the formers cabin. Podmore Is anxious to save Jim my's soul, but the latter refuses to pray. The noise of the discussion attracts the men on deck. PART V. The little cabin was as hot as an •yen. Outside the men called by Char ley, who Informed them, in tones of de light, that there was a row going on ln Jimmy's place, pushed before the closed door, too startled to open it. All hands were there. The watch below had Jump ed out on deck in their shirts, as after a collision. Men running up, asked, "What Is It?" Others said, "Listen!" The muftied screaming went on: "On your knees. On your knees." "Shut up." "I see you dying this minnyt—before my eyes—as good as dead now." "Help!" shouted Jimmy, piercingly. "Not In this valley—look upward," bowled the other. "Go away! Murder! Help!" clamor ed Jimmy. "What's the matter now?" said a seldom-heard voice. "Fall back, men!" "Fall back, there!" repeated Mr. Crelghton sternly, pushing through. "Here's the old man," whispered some. "The cook's in there, sir," ex claimed several, backing away. The door clattered open; a broad stream of light leaped out on wondering faces. A warm whiff of vitiated air passed. The two mates towered head and shoulders above the spare, gray headed man who stood revealed be tween them, In shabby clothes, stiff and angular, like a small carved figure, and with a thin, composed face. The cook got up from his knees. Jimmy sat high ln the bunk, clasping his drawn-up legs. The tassel of the blue nightcap almost imperceptibly trembled over his knees. They gazed astonished at his long, curved back, while the white corner of one eye gleamed blindly at them. "What are you doing here?" asked Mr. Baker, sharply. "My duty," said the cook, with ardor. "Your—what?" began the mate. Captain Allistoun touched his arm lightly. "I know his caper," he said, ln a low voice. "Come out of that, Pod more," he ordered, aloud. The cook wrung his hands, shook his fists above his head, and his arms drop ped as if too heavy. "I make you re sponsible!" he cried desperately, turning half around. "That man is dying. I make you—" "Tou there yet?" called the master in a threatening tone. "No, sir," he exclaimed in startled voice. The boatswain led him away by the arm: some one laughed. Jimmy lifted his head for a stealthy glance, and in one unexpected leap sprang out of his bunk. Belfast ran to his support. He did not appear to be aware of any one near him; he stood silent for a mo ment battling single-handed with a le gion of nameless terrors. Heavy breath ings stirred the darkness. The sea gurgled through the scuppers as the ship heeled over to a short puff of wind. "Keep him away from me," said James Wait, at last, in his fine baritone voice, and leaning with all his weight on Belfast's neck. "I've been better this last week. I am well—l was going back to duty—tomorrow—now If you like—Captain." Belfast hitched his shoulders to keep him upright. "No." said the master, looking at him fixedly. "Why not?" cried a voice from the shadows, "the man's all right, sir." "I am all right." said Walt with eagerness. "Been sick—better—lurn-to now. Keep away from me," giving Bel fast a petulant push, and reeling, fetched against the door-post. His cheek-bones glistened as though they had been varnished. He snatched off his night-cap, wiped his perspiring face with It, flung it on the deck. "I am coming out," he said, without stirring. "No. You don't," said the master curtly. Bate feet shuffled, disapproving voices murmured all round; he went on as if he had not heard: "You have been shamming sick. Why anybody can see that. There's nothing the matter with you, but you choose to lie-up to please yourself—and now you shall lie-up to please me. Mr. Baker, my orders are that this man is not to be allowed on deck to the end of the passage." There were exclamations of surprise, triumph, indignation. The dark group of men swung across the light. "We've got to say something habout that," screeched Donkin from the rear. "Never mind, Jim. We will see you righted," cried several together. An elderly seaman stepped to the front. "D'ye mean to say, sir," he asked omi nously, "that a sick chap ain't allowed to get well in this 'ere hooker?" Behind him Donkin whispered excit edly amongst a staring crowd where no one spared him a.glance, but Captain Allistoun shook a forefinger at the an gry, bronzed face of the speaker. "You —you hold your tongue," he said warn ingly. "Hare we bloomin' masheens?" In quired Donkin in a piercing tone, and and dived under the elbows of the front rank. "Soon show 'im we ain't boys. The man's a man if he is black. We ain't goin' to work this bloomin' ship shorthanded if Snowball's all right. He says he is. -Well then, strike, boys, strike! That's the bloomln' ticket." Captain Allistoun said sharply to the second mate, "Keep quiet, Mr. Crelgh ton," and stood composed ln the tumult. listening with profound attention to the mixed growls and screeches, to every exclamation and every curse of the sudden outbreak. The big shape of Mr. Crelghton hovered silently about the slight figure of the master. "We have been hymposed upon all this voyage," said a gruff voice, "but this ere fancy takes the cake. That man is a shipmate. Are we bloomln' kids? Glv'us our Jimmy." This seemed to cause a variation ln the disturbance. There was a fresh burst of squabbling uproar. A lot of quarrels were set going at once. "They have Btarted a row amongst themselves now," said Mr. Crelghton with disdain; "better get aft, sir. We will soothe them." "Keep your temper, Crelghton," said the master. And the three men began to move slowly toward the cabin door. The elder seamen, bewildered and an gry, growled their determination to go through with something or other; but the younger school of advanced thought exposed their and Jimmy's wrongs with confused shouts, arguing amongst themselves. Inside the cabin, Belfast, helping Jimmy into his bunk, twitched all over In his desire not to miss all the row, and with difficulty restrained the tears of his facile emotion. James Walt, flat on his back under the blanket, gasped complaints. "We will back you up, never fear," assured Belfast, busy about his feet. "I'll come out to-morrow morning— take my chance —" mumbled Walt, "skipper or no skipper." He lifted one arm with great difficulty, passed the hand over his face. "Don't you let that cook—" he breathed out. "No, no," said Belfast, turning his back on the bunk, "I will put a head on him if he comes near you." "I will smash his mug!" exclaimed faintly Wait, enraged and weak; "I don't want to kill a man, but —" He panted fast like a dog after a run in sunshine. Some one Just outside the door shout ed, "He's as fit as any ov us!" Belfast put his hand on the door-handle. "Here!" called James Walt hurriedly and ln such a clear voice that the other spun round with a start. James Walt, stretched out black and deathlike ln the dazzling light, turned his head on the pillow. His eyes stared at Belfast, ap pealing and Impudent. "I am rather weak from lylng-up so long," he said distinctly. Belfast nod ded. "Getting quite well now," Insisted Wait. "Yes. I noticed you getting better this—last month," said Belfast looking down. "Hallo! What's this?" he shout ed and ran out. He was flattened directly against the side of the house by two men who lurched agaist him. A lot of disputes seemed to be going on all around. Don kin hissed, "Go for them—it's dark!" The crowd took a short run aft in a body—then there was a check. Donkin, agile and thin, flitted past with his right arm going like a windmill—and then stood still suddenly with his arm pointing rigidly above his head. The hurtling flight of some small, heavy object was heard; it passed between the heads of the two mates, bounded heavily along the deck, struck the after hatch with a ponderous and deadened blow. The bulky shape of Mr. Baker grew distinct. "Come to your senses, men!" he cried, advancing at the arrested crowd. "Come back, Mr. Baker!" called the master's quiet voice. He obeyed un willingly. There was a minute of silence, then a deafening hubbub arose. Above it Archie was heard energetically, "If ye do oot ageen I wull tell!" There were shouts. "Don't!" "Drop It!" "We ain't that kind!" The black cluster of human forms reeled against the bul wark, back again toward the house. Shadowy figures could be seen totter ing, falling, leaping up. Ringbolts rang under stumbling feet. "Drop it!" "Let me!" "No!" "Curse you—hah!" Then DONKIN FLITTED PAST WITH HIS RIGHT ARM GOING LIKE A WINDMILL. sounds as of some one's face being slapped; a piece of iron fell on the deck; a short scuffle, and some one's shadowy body scuttled rapidly across the main hatch before the shadow of a kick. "Throwing things—good God!" grunt ed Mr. Baker in dismay. "That was meant for me," said the master quietly. "I felt the wind of that thing; what was it—an iron belaylng pln?" Gradually the tramping noises, the confused sound of voices, died out. and the officers coming on the poop discuss ed the events. Mr. Baker was bewilder ed and grunted: Mr. Crelghton was calmly furious; but Captain Allistoun was composed and thoughtful. He lis tened to Mr. Baker's growling argumen tation, to Creighton's interjected and severe remarks, while looking down on the deck he weighed in his hand the iron belaying-pin—that a moment ago had Just missed his head—as if it had been the only tangible fact of the whole transaction. He was one of those com manders who speak little, seem to hear nothing, look at no one—and know everything, hear every whisper, see every fleeting shadow of their ship's LOS ANGELES HERALD: SUNDAY MORNING, SEPTEMBER 12,1897 life. His two big officers towered above his lean, short figure; they talked over his head; they were dismayed, sur piiseu, duil anaij, wltue thitr. the little quiet man seemed to have found his tactiturn serenity in the pro found depths of a large experience. Lights were burning in the forecastle; now and then a loud gust of babbling chatter came from forward, swept over the decks, and became faint, as if the unconscious ship, slipping gently through the great peace of the sea, had left behind and for ever the foolish noise of turbulent mankind. But it was renewed again and again. Gesticulat ing arms, profiles of heads with open mouths appeared for a moment in the illuminated squares of doorways; black fists darted—withdrew. "Yes. It was most damnable to have such an unprovoked row sprung on one," assented the master. He didn't think there would be any further trou ble Just then. A bell was struck aft. an other, forward, answered in a deeper tone, and a clamor of ringing metal spread round the ship in a circle of wide vibrations that ebbed away into the Immeasurable night of an empty sea. Didn't he know them! Didn't he! In past years. Better men, too. Real men to stand by one ln a tight place. Worse than devils, too, sometimes- downright, horned devils. Pah! This— nothing. A miss as good as a mile. The wheel was being relieved in the usual way. "Full and by," said, very loud, the man going off. "Full and by." repeated the other, catching hold of the spokes. "This head wind Is my trouble," ex claimed the master, stamping his foot in sudden anger. "Head wind! all the rest is nothing." He was calm again In a moment. "Keep them on the move to night, gentlemen; Just to let them feel we've got hold all the time—quietly, you know. Mind you keep your hands off them, Crelghton. Tomorrow I will talk to them like a Dutch Uncle. A crazy crowd of tinkers! Yes, tinkers! I could count the real sailors amongst them on the fingers of one hand. Noth ing will do but a row—if—you please." He went down three steps, and chang ing his tone, spoke with his head near the deck: "I shan't turn in to-night, In case of anything; Just call out if— Did you sec the eyes of that sick nigger, Mr. Baker? I fancied he begged me for something. What? Past all help. One lone black beggar amongst the lot of us, and he seemed to look through me into the very hell. Well, let him die in peace. He might have been half a man once. Keep a good look-out." He dis appeared down below, leaving his mates facing one another, and more impressed than if they had seen a stone image shed a miraculous tear of compassion over the incertitudes of life and death. In the blue mist spreading from twist ed threads that stood upright in the bowls of pipes, the forecastle appeared as vast as a hall. Between the beams a heavy cloud stagnated; and the lamps surrounded by halos burned each at the core of a purple glow in two lifeless flames without rays. Wreaths drifted in denser wisps. Men sprawled about on the deck, sat In negligent poses, or, bending a knee, drooped with one shoul der against a bulkhead. Lips moved, eyes flashed, waving arms made sud den eddies In the smoke. "Stick together, boys," roared Da vies. Belfast tried to make himself heard. Knowles grinned in a slow, dazed way. A short fellow with a thick clipped beard kept on yelling period ically: "Who's afeard? Who's afeard?" Another one jumped up, excited, with blazing eyes; .sent out a string of unat tached curses and sat down quietly. Two men discussed familiarly, striking one another's breast in turn, to clinch arguments. Three others, with their heads in a bunch, spoke all together with a confidential air, and at the top of their voices. One could hear: "In the last ship— Who cares? Try it on any one of us if—. Knock under? Not a hand's turn. He says he is all right—l always thought—Never mind—" Belfast cried once more with uplifted arms, "The man is dying I tell ye!" then sat down suddenly on the hatch and took his head between his hands. All looked at Sullivan, gazing up ward from the deck, staring out of dark corners, or turning their heads with curious glances. They were expectant and appeared as If that old man, who looked at no one, had possessed the secret of their uneasy Indignations and desires, a sharper vision, a clearer knowledge. And, Indeed, standing there amongst them, he had the uninterested appearance of one who had seen multi tudes of ships, had listened many times to voices such as theirs, had already seen all that could happen on Ihe wide seas. They heard his voice rumble in his broad chest as though the words j had been rolling toward them out ot a rugged past. "What do you want to do?" lie asked. "I have seen rows aboard ship before some of you were born, for something or nothing; buf never for such a thing." "The man is dying, I tell ye," repeat ed Belfast woefully, sitting at Sullivan's feet. "And a black fellow, too," went on the old seaman. "I have seen them die like flies." He stopped; thoughtful, as if trying to recollect gruesome things, details of horrors, hecatombs of negroes, and they looked at him absorbed. He was old enough to remember slavers, bloody mutinies, pirates, perhaps. Who could tell through what violences and terrors he had lived? What would he say? He said, "You can't help him: die he must," He made another pause. His moustache and beard stirred. He chew ed words, mumbled behind tangled white hairs; incomprehensible and ex citing, like an oracle behind a veil. "Bringing all this head wind. Afraid. The sea will have her own. Die in sight of land. Always so. They know it long passage—more days, more dollars. You keep quiet. What do you want? Can't help him." He seemed to awake from a dream. "You can't help your ,«W. •' y a caM ciwtcnlv per's no tool. He has something on his mind. Look out—l say! I know 'em!" With eyes fixed ln front of him he turn ed his head from right to left, from left to right, as if inspecting a long row of astute skippers. "He said 'c would brain me!" cried Donkin ln a heartrending tone. Sullivan peered downward with puz zled attention, as though he couldn't find him. He radiated unspeakable wisdom, clear unconcern, the chill ing air of resignation. Round him all the listeners felt themselves somehow completely enlightened by their disap pointment, and, mute, they lolled about with the careless ease of men who can discern perfectly the Irremediable as pect of their existence. He, profound and unconscious, waved his arm once, and strode out on deck without another word. One or two vaulted heavily into up per berths, and, once there, sighed; oth ers dived head first Inside lower bunks swift, and turned round instantly up- HE GROUND AND SNAPPED HIS TEETH. on themselves, like animals going into lairs. Belfast got up and approached Archie's berth. "We pulled him out," he whispered sadly. "What?" said the other, with sleepy discontent. "And now we will have to chuck him overboard," went on Belfast, whose loNver lip trembled. "Chuck what?" asked Archie. "Poor Jimmy," breathed out Belfast. "He be blowed!" said Archie with untruthful brutality, and sat up in his bunk. "It's all through him." " 'Taln't his fault, is it?" argued Bel fast, in a murmur. He wandered about as though he had lost his way ln the dim forecastle, and nearly fell over Donkin. He contem plated him from on high for a while. "Ain't ye going to turn in?" he asked. Donkin looked up hopelessly. "Will they split on me?" he asked, with pain ed anxiety. "Who—split?" hissed Belfast, coming back a step. "I would split your nose this minyt if I hadn't Jimmy to look after! Who d'ye think we are?" Donkin rose and watched Belfast's back lurch through the doorway. On all sides invisible men slept, breathing calmly. He seemed to draw courage and fury from the peace around him. Venomous and thin-faced, he glared from the ample misfit of borrowed clothes as if looking for something he could smash. His heart leaped wildly in his narrow chest. "Ye're no men!" he cried, in a dead ened tone. No one moved. "Yer 'aven't the pluck of a mouse!" His voice rose to a husky screech. Wamibo darted out a dishevelled head, and looked at him wildly. "Ye're sweep ings ov ships! I 'ope you will hall rot before you die!" Wamibo blinked, un comprehending but interested. Donkin sat down heavily; he blew with force through quivering nostrils, he ground and snapped his teeth, and, with the chin pressed hard against the breast, he seemed busy gnawing his way through it, as if to get at the heart within. In the morning the ship, beginning another day of her wandering life, had an aspect of sumptuous freshness, like the spring-time of the earth. The washed decks glistened ln a long, clear stretch; the oblique sunlight struck the yellow brasses in dazzling splashes, darted over the polished rods in lines of gold, and the single drops of salt water forgotten here and there along the rail were as limpid as drops of dew, and sparkled more than scattered dia monds. The sun. rising lonely and splendid in the blue sky, saw a soli tary ship gliding close-hauled on the blue sea. The men pressed three deep abreast of the mainmast and opposite the cabin-door. They shuffled, pushed, had an irresolute mien and stolid faces. At every slisht movement Knowles lurch ed heavily on his short leg. Donkin glided behind backs, restless and anx ious, like a man looking for an am bush. Captain Allistoun came out sud denly. He walked to and fro before the front. He was gray, slight, alert, shabby in the sunshine, and as hard as adamant. He had his right hand in the side-pocket of his jacket, and also something heavy in there that made folds all down that side. One of the seamen cleared his throat ominously. "I haven't till now found fault with you men," said the master, stopping short. "And I don't now, but lam here to drive this ship and keep every man jack aboard of her up to the mark. If you knew your Work as well as I do, mine, there would be no trouble. You've been braying in the dark about 'See tomorrow morning!' Well, you see me now. What do you want?" He waited, stepping quickly to and fro, giving them searching glances. What did they want? They shifted from foot to foot, they balanced their bodies; some, pushing back their caps, scratched their heads. What did they want? Jimmy was forgotten; no one thought of him, alone forward in his cabin, fighting great shadows, clinging to brazen lies, chuckling painfully over his transparent deceptions. They want ed great things. And suddenly all the simple words they knew seemed to be lost forever in the Immensity of their vague and burning desire. "What is it—food?" asked the master. "You know the stores had been spoiled off the Cape." "We know that, sir," said a bearded sea-dog in the front rank. "Work too hard—eh? Too much for your strength?" he asked again. There was an offended silence. "We don't want to go shorthanded, sir," began at last Davies in a waver ing voice, "and this 'ere black —" "Enough," cried the master. He stood scanning them for a moment, then walking a few steps this way and that began to storm at them coldly, ln gusts violent and cutting like the gales of those icy seas that had known his youth. "Tell you what's the matter? Too big for your boots. Know half your work. Do half your duty. Think It too much. If you did ten times as rwr- it 'veuldp't b« eaoiwJi." I "We did our best by her, sir," cnea I some one with shaky exasperation. "Tour best," stormed on the master. "You hear a lot on shore, don't you? They don't tell you there your best isn't much to boast of. I tell you. Your best is no better than bad. You can do no more. No, I know, and say nothing. But you stop your caper or I will stop it for you. I am ready for you. Stop It." He shook a finger at the crowd. "As to that man," he raised his voice very much; "as to that man, If he puts his nose out on deck without my leave I will clap him In irons. There!" The cook heard him forward, ran out lifting his arms, horrified, unbelieving, amazed, and ran ln again. There was a moment of profound silence during which a bow-legged seaman, stepping aside, expectorated decorously into the scupper. "There is another thing," said the master calmly. He made a quick stride and with a swing took an iron belay ing-pln out of his pocket. "This!" His movement was so unexpected and sud den that the crowd stepped back. He gazed fixedly at their faces, and some at once put on a surprised air as though they had never seen a belaytng-pln be fore. He held it up. "This is my af fair. I don't ask you anything, you know it; it has got to go where it came from." His eyes became angry. The crowd stirred uneasily. The master watched them attentively. "Donkin," he called out ln a short, sharp tone. Donkin dodged behind one, then be hind another, but they looked over their shoulders and moved aside. Captain Allistoun moved close to him. "You know this," asked the master. "No, I don't," answered the other with cheeky trepidation. "You are a cur. Take it," ordered the master. Donkin's arms seemed glued to his thighs; he stood, eyes front, as if drawn on parade. "Take It," repeated the master, and stepped closer; they breathed on one another. "Take it," said Captain Al listoun again, making a menacing ges ture. Donkin tore away one arm from his side. "Vy hare yer down hon me?" he mumbled with effort and as if his mouth had been full of 'dough. "If you don't —" began the master. Donkin snatched at the pin as though his intention had been to run away with it. and remained stock still hold ing it like a candle. "Put it back where you took it from," said Captain Allistoun, looking at him fiercely. Donkin stepped back opening wide his eyes. "Go, you blackguard, or I will make you," cried the master, driving him slowly backward by a menacing advance. He dodged, and with the dangerous iron tried to guard his head from a threatening fist. "Good! By Jove!" murmured appre ciatively Mr. Crelghton in the tone of a connoisseur. t "Don't tech me,"' snarled Donkin, "FURTHER ON, FORERIGGI NO," URGED THE MASTER. backing away. "Then go. Go faster." "Don't yer it me. I will pull yer hup afore the magistryt. I'll show yer hup." Captain Allistoun made a long stride, and Donkin, turning his back fairly, ran off a little, then stopped and over his shoulder showed yellow teeth. "Further on, forerigglng," urged the master, pointing with his arm. "Hare yer goin' to stand by hand see me bullied," screamed Donkin at the silent crowd that watched him. Captain Allistoun walked at him smartly. He started off again with a leap, dashed at the forerigging. ram med the pin into its hole violently. "Hi will be heven with yer yet," he screamed at the ship at large and van ished beyond the foremast. Captain Allistoun spun round and walked back aft with a composed face, as though he had already forgotten the scene. Ho looked at no one. "That will do, Mr. Baker. Send the watch below," he said quietly. "And you men try to walk straight for the future," he added in a calm voice. He looked pensively for a while at the backs of the impressed and retreating crowd. "Breakfast, steward," he called ln a tone of relief through the cabin door. "Ready, sir," said the steward, ap pearing before them as if by magic and with a stained napkin in his hand. "Ah! All right. Come along, Mr. Baker—late —with all this nonsense." A heavy atmosphere of oppressive quietude pervaded the ship. In the afternoon men went about washing elolhes and hanging them out to dry in the unprosperous breeze with the meditative languor of disenchanted philosophers. Very little was said. The problem of life seemed too voluminous for the narrow limits of human speech, and by common consent it was aban doned to the great sea that had from the beginning enfolded it In its im mense grip; the sea that knew all, and would in time infallibly unveil to each the wisdom hidden in all the errors. And in the confused current of im potent thoughts that set unceasingly this way and that through bodies of men, Jimmy bobbed up upon the sur face, compelling attention, like a black buoy chained to the bottom of a muddy stream. Falsehood triumphed. It tri umphed through doubt, through stu pidity, through pity, through senti mentalism. We set ourselves to bolster it up, from compassion, from reckless ness, from a sense of fun. Jimmy's steadfastness to his untruthful atti tude in the face of the inevitable truth had the proportions of a colossal enig ma—a manifestation, grand and in- comprehensible, that at times inspired a wondering awe, and there was also, to many, something.exquisitely droll in fooling him thus to the top of his bent. The latent egoism of tenderness to suf fering appeared In the developing anx iety not to see him die. His obstinate non-recugmuun ot me only cci inuuc whose approach we could watch from day to day was as disquieting as the failure of some law of nature. He was so utterly wrong about himself that one could not but suspect that he had access to some source of superhu man knowledge. He Influenced the moral tone of our world as though he had It ln his power to distribute hon ors, treasures, or pain; and he could give us nothing but his contempt. It was at that time that Belfast's de votion (and also hla pugnacity) secur ed universal respect. He spent every moment of his spare .time in Jimmy's cabin. He tended him, talked to him: was as gentle as a woman, as tenderly gay as an old philanthropist, as senti mentally careful of his charge as a model slave-owner. But outside he was irritable, explosive as gunpowder, som bre, suspicious, and never more brutal than when most sorrowful. With him It was a tear and a blow; a tear for Jimmy, a blow for anyone who did not seem to take a scrupulously orthodox view of Jimmy's case. We talked about nothing else. At any time of the day and often through the night, some man could be seen sitting on Jimmy's box. In the evening, between six and eight, the cabin was crowded, and there was an Interested group at the door. Every one stared at the negro. He basked in the warmth of our in terest. His eyes gleamed ironically, and In a weak voice he reproached us with our cowardice. He would say, "If you fellows had stuck out for me I would be now on deck." We hung our heads. "Yes, but If you think I am go ing to let them put me in irons just to show you sport. Well, no. It ruins my health, this lying-up, it does. You don't care." We were as abashed as If it had been true. His superb impudence car ried all before It. We would not have dared to revolt. We didn't want to, really. We wanted to keep him alive till horne —to the end of the voyage. Sullivan as usual held aloof, appear ing to scorn the insignificant events of an ended life. We all knew the old man's ideas about Jimmy, and nobody dared to combat them. They were un settling, they caused pain; and, what was worse, they might have been true for all we knew. Only once did he condescend to explain them fully, but the impression was lasting. He said that Jimmy was the cause of head winds. Mortally sick men linger till the first sight of land, and then die; and Jimmy knew that the land would draw his life from him. It is so ln every ship. Didn't we know it? We felt uneasy. The common saying, "more days, more dollars," did not give the usual comfort because the stores were running short. Much had been spoiled off the Cape. We were on fcalf allowance of biscuit. Peas, sugar and tea had been finished long ago. Bait meat was giving out. We had plenty of coffee but very little water to make It with. We took up another hole | our belts and went on scraping, polish ing, painting the ship from morning to night. And soon she looked as though she had come out of a band-box; but hunger lived on board of her. Not dead starvation, but steady living hunger that stalked about the decks, slept in the forecastle; the tormentor of wak ing moments, the disturber of dreams. We were weary, hungry, thirsty; we commenced to believe Sullivan, but with unshaken fidelity dissembled to Jimmy. We spoke to him with jocose allusive ness, like cheerful accomplices in a clever plot; but we looked to the west ward over the rail with mournful eyes for a sign of hope, for a sign of fair wind; even if its breath should bring death to our reluctant Jimmy. In vain! The universe conspired with James Walt. Light airs from the northward sprang up again; the sky remained clear; and round our weariness the glit tering sea, touched by the breeze, basked voluptuously in the sunshine, as though It had forgotten our life and trouble. TO BE CONCLUDED. "Halloo," "Hurrah," "Prithee," and "Marry." Among exclamations in common use "Halloo" and "Hurrah" have curious origins attributed to them. It is said by the author of the "Queen's English" that the people 'of Camwood forest, Leicestershire, when they desire to hail a person at a distance called out, not "halloo!" but "halloup!" This, he im agines, is a survival of the times when one cried to another: "A loup! a loup!" or as we would now say: "Wolf! Wolf!" "Hurrah!" again, according to one au thority is the Slavonic "huraj"—"to Paradise" which signifies that all sol diers who fall fighting valiantly go straight to heaven. "Prithee" is ob viously a corruption of "I pray thee." while "marry" was originally a method of swearing by the Virgin Mary. Neat Compliment to a Judge. This is the way an eminent Boston lawyer, the late Henry W. Paine, man aged to tell a judge to his face that he was wrong and at the same time ad minister a direct compliment. Paine was arguing a law case one day before Chief Justice Gray, when the latter in terrupted the course of argument with the impatient remark: "Mr. Paine, you know that is not law." The nature and manner of the Interruption were of a kind to throw even the most self possessed advocate off his balance. Mr. Paine, however, without any outward manifestation.of annoyance or embar rassment, replied, with simple dignity, "It was law until your honor spoke," and proceeded with his argument. THE BOWSER TROUBLES. The Bowsers had occupied their sum rrs» Msttvwm at »b» asnalMne f*r fsrsv - 1 weeks. During- that time twenty-two tramps had called for food or money* * clam-fed hog had made many hours mis erable, sand-flies and mosquitoes had beset them every minute, and they had been lonely by day and afraid by night. Mr. Bowser thought of all these things on the fourteenth evening, as they sat at the door gazing out at the sea and fanning the mosquitoes away, and the more he thought the more an gry he got. He had rented the cottage for the season without seeing it or knowing what county it was in, but it wasn't his fault—not according to his doctrine. He had lost ten pounds of flesh, suffered indignity and Insult in being thrown down by a hog and ln be ing "sassed" by tramps, had been de ceived and lied to about ths cottage. He wanted to pitch into somebody for all this, and as Mrs. Bowser was ths only one within two miles of him hs naturally turned upon her. "I suppose you feel a hundred per cent, better for this outing?" he began, as he struck a vicious blow at a mos- I qulto about as big as a bat, crippling ! the insect for life. "I didn't come down here for my 1 health," she meekly replied. "Oh! you didn't! If not for health, what then?" "To please you." I "To please me! Woman, what are ye* talking about? From January to July you were talking about the seashore. You gabbled by day and dreamed by night. We never sat down to a meal that you didn't go on about crabs and clams and the moaning sea. You couldn't hear a milk wagon drive past but what you compared the racket to the roaring of the breakers on the rocky shore. And now you say you came down here to please me!" "I—l didn't want you to rent such m place as this," she stammered. "Tou didn't, eh? That's exactly what you wanted—a cottage by the sea—• place oft by ourselves—a spot where we could watch the waves foam and play and the clams stand on their heads in exuberance of spirit. I found such a place. This is it. There are ths foam ing waves, and over a million clams ara standing on their heads along ths beach. It has cost me hundreds of I dollars and two weeks of abject misery to cater to your little romance, and ! now you have the face to tell me that 1 you didn't want to come!" "I don't think you have enjoyed It," j she said. "How could you think so!" ha thun- 1 dered, as he dropped his fan and struck out with both fists at the mosquitoes. "I didn't expect to enjoy It—not an hour —but I was willing to sacrifice myself the same as all other husbands. I have sacrificed, and I have met with the us ual reward. Mrs. Bowser, this thing must end!" j Her heart leaped for joy at ths words, but she maintained a discreet silence, » "I have stood it as long as I propose to, and to-morrow morning we start for home!" continued Mr. Bowser. "That is, I do. If you want to remain hers for the rest of the summer, you can do so. By the great horn spoon, but I am being bitten at the rate of a million bites a minute!" He struck out right and left and danc ed around, and then said: "I have been bitten by 7,550,000 sand files; I have been bitten by 14,000,000 mosquitoes; tons and tons of malaria have been poured into my system from that old marsh, and it will take a train-load of medicine and ten years ot dosing to make me what I was the day I came down here to please you." "Why do you persist in saying It waa to T" "Woman, don't interrupt me!" ha shouted, as the bite' of a veteran mos quito lifted him off his chair. "We came here to see the Atlantic Ocean. There it is—a pond of salt water, and the color Is like three-cent lager beer." And he got up and shook his fists in the air and walked around and kicked up showers of sand. "And is it all my fault?" queried Mrs. Bowser, with tears in her eyes. "Is it! Is it!" he howled, as he jumped up and down. "Of course it Ist Whose fault can it be but yours? Didn't you talk seashore to me un til I was half-crazy. Didn't you get me all excited and upset about sharks and lobsters and whales and surf-bathing? Where are the sharks and lobsters and whales? Where, I say! And we have bathed Just once. We went into the surf and found two dead cats floating around, and I cut my heel on a bottle and you cut your toe on a sardine can. Did I come here to bathe among dead cats! Would any person on the face of this earth believe that a husband would let his wife make such a fool of him? By thunder, but— but—!" And he hauled off and banged away with his fists at the side of the house and kicked up the sand behind him. Things were working her way, and Mrs. Bowser was silent. After a dozen thumps and grunts. Mr. Bowser sat down again and kicked right and left at the mosquitoes, and finally said: "We leave for home the first thing in the morning, and you can begin to pack up. When we get home I shall want a talk with you—a long, plain talk. A husband can stand only so much, Mrs. Bowser—only so much. Tou have driven me to the dead-line, and there will ei ther be a divorce or such promises of humility on your part as will make me forgive you. Now. let's fling the things Into the trunks and get ready for a sun rise skip, and if I ever meet the lop shouldered, wall-eyed swindler who rented me this cottage, I will take him by the throat and choke the life out of his miserable anatomy!" Evening faded into night, the sand flies bit, the mosquitoes thirsted for more gore, the clams crawled up on the sands. There was no spice-laden breeze, the sea didn't moan, and the moon light, shining upon the water, simply gave it a butter-milk appearance. And when the night had passed and morning came the early sun-beams, peeping into the Bowser seashore cottage, found It empty once more. Copyright, 1897, by Bacheller Syndicate, Brignoli's "Just One Minute." Brignoli never was known to be ready to go on the stage to sing his part. Ha had to wait one minute or several min utes before appearing. In this he was a great trouble to managers. "Just give me one minute more," he would beg, and when that was up he would plead for another and another, till pa tience was exhausted. Boston's Mayor Described. Joslah Quincy could hardly be mis taken for a fashionable man, though his tall, slight figure and good looking, youthful face give him considerable dis tinction. He dresses quietly and well, but does not share the true swell's de ! testation of knees in the trousers, and 'probably never knows whether or not ' the cut of his garments la fashionable.