"We suppose," said these proud men of the sea, "he has been brought here to teach us something. We will let him see what he has come to. His life shall be made not worth living, and the miserable traitor who has put him over our heads shall be made to feel that we don't want any Scottish instruction. His great seamanship must be tested, and as to learning, what do we care for learning? This is not our business. We want sailors, not learning."

This piece of shrewd eloquence was noisily applauded by the affected persons, who felt convinced that their birthright had been stolen from them. Meanwhile the object of their aversion showed qualities of genius that caused Mr Hobkirk to marvel at his own inherent instinct which had enabled him to fix on so distinguished a prodigy. Some of his shipowning friends were struck with what they called his cleverness, and asked him to convey to them his secret for finding a person so unlike the ordinary shipmaster. He bowed his head low in token of submission, and almost in a whisper conveyed to them the belief that he was the instrument of divine Providence. The seamen and skippers of the port did not hold the same view as the owner, so they set themselves to make it very difficult for Macgregor to get a crew, and had he not been an astute man of affairs, great loss and inconvenience would have ensued. The local union was very strong, very active and intensely popular. All its official machinery was thrown into the policy of obstruction, and all its efforts were abortive, for the Hebe was towed out of port with a full crew in spite of a continual shower of stones and other missiles.

Amongst this notorious crew was one named Ralph Davidson, a half-witted young fellow who had served two apprenticeships without being able to qualify for the dignity of A.B., that is, he could not pass the necessary examination for admittance into the union. This poor creature was permitted to sail as "half-marrow" or ordinary seaman because of his local origin and good natured simplicity. Otherwise the very mention of half-marrow was loathed, and no amount of persuasion could induce these men and lads to tolerate a stranger in that capacity. I commend the ideal to present-day sailors and shipowners. The British Merchant Service would be all the better by going back to this old-time method of keeping up the standard of proficiency. Ralph had all the characteristic weaknesses of the sailor. He was a much-sought-after institution at all the public house dances while at home, and was not averse to either accepting a glass of whiskey or giving one when he had the wherewithal to do it, but that was rarely. He spent much of his meagre earnings and time in this way, and suffered for it when he was obliged to go to sea without suitable clothing. Young people of both sexes were very fond of getting him to do a step-dance or sing a song. The latter sounded like paying chain cable out of a hawse pipe, and kept the room in screams of laughter. The Hebe had reached the Bay of Biscay on her way to Lisbon. A strong south wind was blowing, accompanied with heavy rain, and the spray flew all over her. Ralph stood at the wheel shivering, clad in a suit of dungarees. His face indicated all that he was suffering, and his mutterings attracted the attention of the captain, who overheard him swearing, "My God, as soon as I get into port I'll have a suit of oilskins!" In due time they got into port, and Ralph was the first aft to ask for money to purchase the water-proof articles. The captain made the advance and reminded him that he relied on it being spent for the purpose for which it was intended. He was assured that Ralph's suffering for want of proper clothing had left an unpleasant recollection on his mind and he did not intend to suffer in the same way in future. On landing, he was prevailed upon to go to a grog shop and dance house before making his purchase. The captain, suspecting that there was not much strength behind his resolve, dropped into the place of amusement and witnessed his half-marrow in full swing on the floor. He tapped him on the shoulder as he waltzed round, and said:

"Didn't you say when the rain and spray were lashing over you in the Bay of Biscay that you would buy a suit of oilskins as soon as you got into port?"

"Ah, yes, captain, I said that. But there is no rain and spray lashing at me now. It's different weather here," replied the irrepressible sailor as he continued to play his part in the harmony of the evening.

The captain had brought some friends to witness and enjoy the discomfiture of his "oddity," but the bright retort turned the tables against him, and established the opinion with them that Ralph instead of being half-witted was at any rate on that occasion very ready-witted. They said they would not have lost the sight of seeing the joke for anything. Macgregor wisely entered into the fun, and admitted that Ralph had scored in a way that he had not anticipated.

Meanwhile the new captain was discussed at home with striking regularity. Opinions varied as to how long he would last and what would be the cause of his downfall. Quotations from the Scriptures were used in profusion, the favourite of which was: "Pride goeth before destruction, and a haughty spirit before a fall." Their faces wore an aspect of great concern, and they ominously shook their heads in token of sinister developments that were to bring much tribulation to their friend who had broken the law of brotherhood. A letter was received by Mr Hobkirk from the captain giving a graphic description of his passage and the general prospects for dispatch at the port of discharge. Dealing incidentally with his future plans, he remarked in passing: "I cannot close without briefly saying how much I owe you for the honour you have done me by entrusting so valuable a property and such important interests to my keeping. May I assure you that it is my intention to see that you are well rewarded for the confidence you have placed in your humble servant." The owner went into ecstasy over this letter and showed it to many of his friends as evidence against their adverse opinion and as an indication of unusual capacity. Some of them drily remarked: "The letter may be all right, but we believe in results, and advise you to wait until you see your accounts." These nasty insinuations, however, did not in any way shake the confidence of the owner. Each communication dazzled his imagination and gave him further opportunity for extolling the rare gifts of his valuable skipper who was dashing his vessel along in a way that amazed the inhabitants of the sleepy town to which she belonged. The first voyage was made in quick time, and the profits were satisfactory. His treatment of the crew was not all kindness, but they were rather proud to be able to say that they had sailed with a dare-devil who had lost a suit of sails crossing the Bay by sheer carrying on; besides he was generous in the distribution of food and grog, and this was a trait that palliated all other defects. On his arrival home the interview between him and his employer was of the most cordial character, and he was sent on another voyage with a free hand to act in chartering and other things, as his judgement led him to think was in the best interests of the vessel. On this occasion he went to Landscrona with coals, and from there to a Russian place called Windau in ballast. On arrival off this port he left the mate in charge with instructions to dodge about while he went ashore to see if he could get a good charter. In less than two hours he was aboard again with the pilot, and the ship proceeded into the harbour to load at a high rate of freight for London. The news of the unexpected arrival and unique fixture created quite a flutter in shipping circles. Hobkirk's former critics became suddenly enamoured of this remarkable captain, and his fame spread far and wide. He was held up as an example of greatness to his less successful contemporaries, and they in turn secretly desired a tragic end for him. Hobkirk being a pillar of the church, deemed it necessary when he took his walks abroad to hang his head in saintly humility. If he came across any of his friends he warned them to guard against covetousness, and should prosperity such as his come to them they were adjured to subdue any inclination to pride.

"We have need to subdue vanity, haughtiness, self-glorification, and other worldly ways. I often read and ponder over these awful words," said this sanctified commercial prince: "The nations shall rush like the rushing of many waters, but God shall rebuke them, and they shall flee far off, and shall be chased as the chaff of the mountains before the wind, and like a rolling thing before the whirlwind."

At the time his owner was exhorting his fellow-townsmen to a closer communion with God, Captain Macgregor had given way to habits that were not commensurate with the doctrine of that righteousness which exalteth a people, and as often happens (especially aboard ship) when a bad example is shown by the master, the crew and officers drift into irregularities, and all discipline is destroyed. This was exactly what occurred aboard the Hebe. The master was known to be on the spree, so the mate, Munroe, thought he would have a day off, and took as a drinking chum, Ralph, the half-marrow; and, in order that they might not be disturbed, they travelled to a snapshop in the country, some miles away from the town. Instead of one day, two were spent in drinking, swearing, dancing, and, as sailors generally call it when on the spree, casting the lead—presumably to know their whereabouts. A sailor belonging to the Hebe got to know where they were, and persuaded a man belonging to another vessel to go with him and bring them back. They had a tough job, but at midnight of the second day they succeeded in getting them to retrace their way to the ship, the plan being to get aboard when nobody was about. Munroe was a typical sailor, full of devilment, especially when he had had a few glasses of grog. The two "plants" trudged their way conversing with great animation of what they had seen and done and what they intended to do. Ralph was ready to acquiesce in all his officer said as to future exploits. Their shipmate reminded them (especially Ralph) that it would not be well for them if the old man got to know they had been on the loose, whereupon Ralph retorted, "I don't care a damn for the old beggar." This outburst was supplemented by more sanguinary promises on the part of Mr Munroe. At this point they were passing a farm just on the outskirts of the town, and observed some poultry. The chief officer said he would not go aboard emptyhanded, and had never done so in his life, and wouldn't do so now.

"What do you say, Ralph?"

"I say the same as you say, James," said the complacent half-marrow; "let us have a fowl for breakfast."

One cock and two hens were captured by the mate, who was full of congratulations to himself. At last one of the escorts reminded him that he would have to conceal the birds or he might be stopped and run in by the sentry.

"By gox, that's true," said Munroe; "where shall I put them?"

"In your breeches," said Ralph, sharply.

"That's first class," said he, and with Ralph's assistance they were stowed in the part of his wearing apparel where there was an abundance of room generously supplied by the tailor. They had not gone many yards when the mate showed evidences of discomfort. He was obviously suffering pain. The two escorts were by this time in kinks with laughter. Ralph asked his mate what was the matter with him.

"Matter?" said the mate, "why, the blooming things are biting me to pieces."

"Let the beasts bite," said Ralph coolly; "you cannot have them there without them doing something, you darned fool! How do you expect to get past the sentry if you go on like that? Buck up and bear it."

At this point the cock gave an unnatural guttural cry. Ralph exhorted his companion to keep the thing quiet. He replied he couldn't, and that he would stand it no longer.

"Well," said Ralph, "if you won't stand it you won't have fowl for breakfast."

"Oh, darn the breakfast! I must let them go. Help me to unbutton, for if I move they'll go mad again."

The birds were taken from their concealment. Ralph secured two, twisted their necks, stuffed one into his own nether garment, and informed the mate that he should have adopted this plan of quietening them at first.

"Here," said he, passing him the other dead hen, "two makes it far over bulky; you stow it away in yours."

"No fear," said Mr Munroe, "I'll never touch or eat a bit of fowl again as long as I live. My sufferings are too great."

"Why that's rotten nonsense," said the resourceful half-marrow; "the thing's dead."

"I don't care," responded the penitent thief, "I'll never handle them again, dead or alive. Oh, Christo, I am smarting!"

"Hold your blether about smarting and suffering, you fool, or you'll get me nabbed," replied Ralph, who had now concealed both roosters.

The two escorts were by this time well nigh paralytic with laughter. As they drew near to where the slumbering sentry stood, the chief officer caused great anxiety by the style of walk he was forced to assume. Ralph implored him not to go along as though he expected swine to pass between his legs, and not to put on such an agonized look. He coaxed him by the promise that he himself would attend to his wounds as soon as they got safely aboard. The good-hearted soul took infinite trouble in his rough way to fulfil the pledge he had given. They were not intercepted by the military gentleman who guarded the destiny of the port, and as soon as their feet were planted on deck Ralph exclaimed, "Now we're safe." Jack has an inherent belief in the sacredness of British territory, either floating or otherwise. He is a stout upholder of British supremacy, and conformity to the laws of other nations does not appeal to him. His creed is undisguised, and has been handed down as an heirloom from the great naval hero who smashed the combined fleets of Spain and France at Trafalgar. Here it is: "Fear God, and hate a Frenchman as the devil hates holy water." The average sailor continues to believe this to be an edict which alone can assure patriotism and divine compassion. All these things were well mixed in Ralph's brain. He never doubted the truth of them, and the one idea which brought forth the utterance, "Now we're safe," was the conviction of British supremacy and protection.

It took Mr Munroe a few days to get into working order. The news of the adventure and the sequel to it soon spread amongst the English vessels in port. There was much visiting and jocular sympathy expressed for the prime mover, and the sailor's sense of humour was greatly touched by all he heard. The mate himself was a humourist, and after he had got over the painful period he often told the story against himself, and never failed to do so with a vividness that made it highly attractive.

The loading of the vessel was in no way delayed by this little freak, as there was no cargo down. Captain Macgregor, however, had not been seen for several days, and the vessel was nearly ready for sea. The proper agencies were instructed to have him brought aboard, drunk or sober, so he landed aboard drunk, and gave everybody an unhappy time until he was got into his bunk and sent to sleep. The next day he rose early, got all his papers and accounts made right, paid them, signed bills of lading, cleared, and put to sea with a fair wind. There were no traces of intemperance in either his behaviour or in the manner of giving orders. He talked with marked intelligence to his officer, and partook of the evening meal with him; and as he had reason to leave the table before Munroe had finished, he politely asked to be excused for doing so. This mark of consideration overshadowed his other faults and stamped him as a gentleman in the opinion of the mate. A somewhat disturbing incident followed, for the guttural voice of someone nowhere to be seen rebuked James Munroe for absenting himself from the vessel for two days and indulging in intoxicating drink to excess and for purloining a poor farmer's fowls, which even the painful results to himself could not excuse. Then followed a modest tribute to Captain Macgregor's superior morality. "It is not well that Macgregor should ever taste alcohol," said the voice; "the slightest drop takes effect and causes him to appear intoxicated when he is not." Then there came from the stairs the almost incoherent announcement that a stormy passage was to be experienced. Then the voice fluttered away, and left only the sound of creaking timbers and the weird moan of the wind. Munroe was riveted with dumb terror, and when speech came to him he remarked: "That's darned funny," and proceeded on deck to attend to his duties. In a short time he was joined by the captain, who was promptly informed of what had been heard.

"Ah," said the skipper, in dead earnest, "that must have been a warning to you and to me to regulate our lives aright."

"I don't know about the warning, but these visitations you talk about are not very canny," responded the mate.

"How dare you complain of being reminded of absenting yourself from your duties and stealing poultry and concealing them in a manner that is disgraceful?" sternly replied the captain.

"All right," said Munroe in a voice obviously agitated, "say no more about it."

Macgregor navigated for three days after leaving, with great vigour and commendable care, though it was known that he was tippling. He seemed to have an aversion to Ralph when he had imbibed too freely. This could not be accounted for, as until recently Ralph was very popular with the captain. After passing Elsinore he commenced to drink harder, but always kept his watch until the Scaw was rounded. Then irregularities became visible. Strong westerly winds were encountered after passing the Jutland coast. The men knew by experience whenever a light was kept burning in the stateroom at night, when the wind blew hard and a press of canvas was being carried, that the intention was, not to take a stitch in until something carried away. The sailors dreaded these occasions, as the little craft was smothered at times and never a bit of rest could be had until the wind eased down. Ten days after leaving Windau the Hebe entered the Commercial Docks, London. She had been flogged heavily all the way home. A record passage was considered to have been made under the circumstances, and several vessels that had left before and at the same time were sheltering in Elsinore roads, while others had put into Norwegian ports. Mr Hobkirk was much gratified by his captain's performances, and would not listen to the petty gossip that had been sent by some busybodies about him drinking and being absent from the vessel while at the loading port. He deemed it necessary, however, to mention the matter to the captain, who on his arrival at the Tyne was asked to spend an evening with the owner and discuss things generally. The use of offices was dispensed with in these days. All accounts and correspondence were kept and carried on from the owner's private house. When the interview took place, Captain Macgregor was at his best. Hobkirk was like a willow in his hands. He nervously introduced the subject of intemperance. It was eloquently and contemptuously denied; and just as the owner was in the act of repeating what had been told him, a stern voice came down the chimney rebuking him for lack of confidence in a man who had given such proof of integrity. Hobkirk felt uneasy, but the matter of accounts which were not quite satisfactory had to be dealt with. As soon as they were mentioned Macgregor fumed into white heat and rose to go, and got nearly to the door when a sharp angry voice came down the chimney demanding that the captain should be brought back again and peace made with him. Hobkirk was by this time in such a state of terror he begged the gallant commander to take his seat, and apologised for having unintentionally offended him. Again the voice came: "The wicked in his pride doth persecute the poor: let them be taken in the devices that they have imagined." This was the climax. Hobkirk was beside himself with fear, and tremblingly requested that all should be forgotten.

"I assure you, Macgregor, I have the fullest confidence in you. By the way, did you hear anything just now?"

"Yes," said the captain, "and although I'm not a nervous man it has made a very deep impression upon me. Good night, sir."

The captain never had the honour of being invited to his owner's home again. There were those who said that Hobkirk believed him to have communion with his Satanic majesty, or to possess supernatural power. Hobkirk was undoubtedly convinced that the mill was haunted by a spirit favourably disposed towards the man who had claimed to be his ideal shipmaster. He became afraid to doubt his honesty or his sobriety lest his nights might be disturbed and his days filled with trouble.

"Ah," said he to a friend in whom he had confided, "Solomon the son of David was right when he said these words: 'Happy is the man that findeth wisdom and the man that getteth understanding, for the merchandise of it is better than the merchandise of silver, and the gain thereof than fine gold.'"

"Very shrewd, very fine," said his friend, "but you might have added one or two other things that the great Hebrew King's son said. What do you think of these few words of wisdom and rebuke: 'But ye have set at naught all my counsel, and would none of my reproof. I also will laugh at your calamity: I will mock when your fear cometh?' It is no use, Hobkirk; I told you all along that Macgregor would have to be watched, but you were carried away with his money-making, his glamour and letter-writing, and now he's your master. I'll tell you another thing old Solomon said: 'Open rebuke is better than secret love, and faithful are the wounds of a friend; but the kisses of an enemy are deceitful.' My advice is: have another master ready for the Hebe as soon as she gets back."

Hobkirk confessed to his friend that the quotations from his favourite author and his own frank statements had made a deep impression on him, though he was bound to admit that his confidence was only partially shaken in the man to whom he had pinned his faith.

"Very well, we will see," responded the friend as he passed out of the door.

Mr Hobkirk's meditations kept him awake right through the night, and at an early hour in the morning he boarded the Hebe, and found the captain and his men energetically preparing to take her to sea. The cargo was all in. A gentle westerly breeze was blowing. The topsails were set; the moorings were let go; and the little vessel proceeded out of the harbour bound to Copenhagen.

The owner went over the bar with her, and on getting outside had a private conversation with the master, the nature of which was never disclosed, but so far as Macgregor was concerned it was animated. Mr Hobkirk, before leaving with the pilot, gave the crew his benediction, and slipped into the cobble which waited to convey them ashore. The pilot, observing that the flag was being dipped, broke the silence by remarking:

"She's off once more, sir, and they're dipping the blood and guts of old England to say goodbye to us."

The owner was indignant, and smartly retorted:

"I wish you to understand, pilot, that I will not have the British flag insulted in my presence. When you speak of that flag, sir, you must speak of it with reverence, and remember that it has never been lowered to an enemy."

The pilot, who had been a sailor and captain, was amazed at the owner's ignorance in not knowing that seamen were accustomed to speak of the flag in this way. Had he been a foreigner who dared to address him in a similar tone of ill-nature, he would have thrown him overboard. As it was, he merely remarked in an ironic accent that Mr Hobkirk "had a lot to learn yet." By the time the cobble got ashore, the fine clipper brig was nearly hull down.

Macgregor had prevailed upon the same crew to go with him again, and the owner's back was scarcely turned before he commenced to drink and ill-use the poor half-witted Ralph who was in his watch. There does not appear to have been any reason for this except that of alcoholic viciousness. The dark horror of secret drinking quickly developed into hideous proportions; it gripped him like a vice; his bleary eyes and wild fits of delirium foreshadowed inevitable collapse. He raved about things that were supposed to be whispered in his ears by unholy voices; he saw wild beasts of the most ferocious character, which were not there, and imagined them grinding their teeth in anxiety to devour him; he alternately yelled and whispered that rats, weasels and wild cats were crawling over his body and gnawing at his vitals. In the paroxysm of frenzy he lay down on the cabin floor and tried to bury his head from the sight of the demons that he imagined pursued him. He cried out in pitiful accents to be shielded from them, and in the effort lost complete capacity for coherent speech. The crew were thrown into a condition of chilly fear. A consultation was held, and it was decided to have him carefully watched and occasional doses of brandy administered. For three days a fine westerly breeze had raced over the dappled sea. It had varied in strength, and nearly three hundred miles had been covered when the wind died away to a calm which continued nearly twenty-four hours. Then an air sprang up from the east and gradually gained in strength to a whole sail breeze. The captain had shown alarming signs of sudden recovery during the early hours of the fourth day. The delirium tremens had apparently left him, and he became subdued and attractively rational. Munroe, who did not possess much intelligence, knowledge or ambition, expressed his satisfaction that the drunken beggar was about to resume control, as he was sick of being both skipper and mate. As a matter of fact, responsibility did not sit lightly on this frivolous officer, and it may be that he knew the measure of his capacity. Ralph heard all the mate had to say, and quietly remarked:

"They haven't left him yet. He's only at the cunning, dangerous stage."

"What do you mean, Ralph?" said Munroe (for in spite of his reputed semi-idiotcy Ralph was supposed to possess intuitive foresight).

"I mean what I say. Now's the time to watch him, or he may have any one of us by the throat before we know where we are. I'll be the first he'll go for," said Ralph, in broad vernacular; "he used to like me, but now that he's taken on to drink I feel that he wants to kill me."

At midnight on the fourth day from sailing Ralph had just relieved the wheel, and Macgregor had come on deck, and commenced to walk the quarterdeck in his usual dignified style. The vessel was being sailed by the wind, and his eyes became fixed aloft, watching, as was his custom, whether she was properly steered. At last he broke silence by shouting out:

"Hard up! Don't you see the rocks right ahead?" Then he sprang at Ralph like a tiger, and had nearly torn his clothes off him before other members of the crew came to his aid. The captain's strength was superhuman. It took four men to get him into his berth and lash him securely down, and in a few minutes he died in a screaming fit of madness.

It was promptly arranged that the body should, if possible, be landed in England, and as there was blowing a whole sail breeze from the east, her tail was put to it and then a heated discussion arose as to the proper course to steer for Tynemouth Castle. The mate said W. by N. Ralph insisted W. by S. from their position would land her right under the castle foot. As both stubbornly maintained they were right, it was agreed to come to a compromise by steering W. by N. one watch and W. by S. the next, and so on until the land was made. After this knotty question was settled an incident almost incredible in its awful gruesomeness took place. Ralph became smitten by a revengeful mania. He went below, took his deceased commander's clothes off, put his body on the table and commenced to lash at it with a piece of rope, exclaiming at every stroke, "You thrashed me, you tiger, when you were living, and I'll thrash you now that you're dead." The mate happened to go into the cabin while this performance was going on, and was stricken with chill horror.

"My God, Ralph, what are you doing?" the mate shouted.

"Don't you see what I'm doing, you d——n fool?" said Ralph, "I'll teach the villain to lash me for doing nothing!"

"But," said Munroe, "his body will be marked, and we will be had up for murder!"

"There is no fear of that. A corpse never gets marked by beating it."

This assurance relieved Mr Munroe so much that he covered his strange companion with profuse compliments on his knowledge of the inanimate human body, and nicknamed him 'Ralph-ower-mony.' After this extraordinary being had finished his gruesome revenge on the dead body of his master, it was placed in a hastily-constructed deal casement, and put on top of the longboat, and then covered over with the Union Jack and an awning, so that it might be kept cool.

There is no class of Englishmen who regard the national flag with such reverence as the sailor; to him it is a divinity, used as an emblem of glory, or sorrow, as the case may be. He disdains making the noisy, vulgar use of it that is sometimes practised at meetings by unctuous, ill-read politicians, whose abnormal egotism, impudence and ignorance cause them to boast of a devotion for the flag equalled by no one else. The sailor, on the other hand, speaks of it as a thing too sacred to act circus games with. If his shipmate dies at sea, he is sewn up in canvas and covered over with the Union Jack; a heavy weight is placed at his feet, and, with heads bowed low, they silently commit his remains to the deep. If a sailor dies in port, the flag is used to cover the coffin as a solemn token of having died while serving under its beneficent protection. Think of the beautiful sentiment that governs the sailor's ideal of using it, and then, if you can, think of the blatant political person and the use he puts it to! How it reminds you of Petticoat Lane, and makes you pray that England may be delivered from such disgusting impertinence!

Mr Munroe had assumed command, and discussed with his crew the idea of a burial at sea. This was strenuously opposed by Ralph, who insisted that the body should be carried to England in case the question of foul play should arise. This course was adopted, and great precaution was taken to prevent premature decomposition. A smart breeze from the N.E. carried the little brig rapidly towards the land, and on the morning of the third day she sailed into the roadstead for which she had been steered. The dual courses had worked out an accurate landfall. Before the anchor was let go, the pilot cobble came alongside.

"Where's the captain?" asked the pilot.

"The beggar's dead, sir," answered Ralph, ignoring the respect he owed to his superior officer, Mr Munroe, who requested him to keep his tongue quiet and allow him to speak. The anchor was dropped, sails furled and flag put half-mast, and the pilot was requested to go ashore and acquaint the owner with what had happened. At eleven o'clock every forenoon a few well-known owners met in the parlour of an inn, there to discuss matters of personal and public interest. The banking accounts and characters of their neighbours who did not belong to the coterie were pulled remorselessly to pieces. If they happened to have progressive ideas and were successful, their speedy bankruptcy was predicted. Each member of the party had "churchwardens" kept in a bracket with his name on, and only one glass of whiskey and one pipe of tobacco was indulged in until the evening sitting, when they did not stick at trifles. But the keynote of these forenoon and evening sittings was money. Mr Hobkirk and his friends had just got quietly seated and the conversation turned on the vessel that had been observed to anchor in the roads, when the pilot in wild excitement burst in upon their privacy, exclaiming:

"The Hebe has put back with the captain's dead body aboard!"

"How did he come by his death?" asked several of the party; "he was a stout, strong-looking man?"

"They say he died of drink," said the pilot.

"Ah," responded the comforting friends, "we told you, Hobkirk, what you might expect. You remember the voice coming down the chimney? That was his voice. We have been informed he could talk two ways. We never believed in him, and told you so."

"I admit it, gentlemen, I admit it. I have been deceived, but please do not refer to the chimney affair again; that unnerves me."

Instructions were given to the pilot to land the body of Captain Macgregor, and without any show of mourning the remains of this once brilliant man were put to rest in a drunkard's grave, close by the sea, far away from his own home. The story of how he came by his death and what subsequently occurred was told in all its ghastly detail to the pilots, who in turn spread it abroad, without diminishing the account given to them. Another captain was quickly engaged, and the Hebe sailed on her voyage. The late owners of Captain Macgregor were informed of his death, and about two weeks afterwards a comely-looking lady with a little boy of four years old called at Mr Hobkirk's house and asked for an interview. She was received with unfeigned displeasure. The owner commenced a vigorous tirade against the man who he considered had wronged him by killing himself with drink. The lady suddenly cut this flow of vindictive denunciation short by stamping her foot on the floor and shouting out: "Stop! I will listen to this no longer. I am the widow of the late captain. I have come from Scotland, not to hear your coarse abuse of him, but to learn where you have laid his body. Tell me this, and then I desire to hear no more from you. His effects and any money due from you to him you may send to this address."

Hobkirk interjected:

"He has no money due."

"Very well, then," responded Mrs Macgregor, "there will be none to send; but I must have his effects."

Hobkirk by this time had read the address. It startled him. He became apologetic and asked if the baronet whose address she had given was in any way related to her.

"Yes," said she, "he is my father, and my late husband's uncle."

"Ah," said Hobkirk, "I knew my judgement was right in believing him to belong to a family of distinction. He was a man of great ability, and had a fascinating address. What a sad thing that he should have given way to drink."

"I must request you not to speak of Captain Macgregor in this way to me. Whatever faults he may have had are covered up in his tomb. If he has wronged you, be frank and tell me, so that I may atone for it in some way. You have my address. I came here principally to visit his grave and arrange for a tombstone to be put up. Please be good enough to allow someone to take me to it."

"If I may, I should like to take you to it myself."

But the little lady declined. The fine dignity of her bearing, and the charm of her bow when she said "good-day" to him, covered the parochial potentate with shame for having received and treated her as a commonplace captain's wife. Mr Hobkirk conveyed to his friends at their evening sitting at the inn all that had passed between himself and his distinguished visitor. He was smartly censured for being shortsighted in not discerning that she belonged to the gentry, and he was charged with the possibility of getting the leading citizens of the town into bad repute.

"Why," said they, "she may write to the papers about it, and then there will be a fine ado."

The tragedy of her husband's death and her visit created a sensation of no small importance in the district. Local gossip made much of it, and for a time the great Mr Hobkirk lost caste. The poor, bereaved lady was the centre of sympathy. They thought of her standing by the grave-side, holding her little son by the hand, and, wrapped by the veil of sorrow, offering up a humble prayer to Almighty God, and then quietly passing from the scene of sadness and death to make her way home.



IV

PIRACY IN THE ARCHIPELAGO

Who can fully estimate all the world owes to Providence and nature in propagating the fervid Scottish race? They are found in every continent, climbing from the three-legged stool in an office, or from any other subordinate position. They toil upward with caution and perseverance. They always aim at the top of the tree, and multitudes of them succeed. But one of the Scot's extraordinary characteristics is his deference to superiors. At an early age the average Scot is characterized by this passion to get on by thrift, love of "siller," a puritanic mode of thought, and an imperishable love of his country which, however, does not prevent him from leaving it in order to enter into mercantile or other pursuits in the farthest parts of the earth—or the nearest, it really does not matter—so long as he gets a decent start.

Archie Macvie's father, who was an elder of a Presbyterian Kirk, managed one of the flax factories in an important town north of the Forth. Archie was the youngest of the lads, and by far and away the cleverest, but he had made up his mind to engage himself as an apprentice aboard an English brig that was discharging flax for the owners of the factory. This determination came as a great shock to the Macvies, who had pictured their boy in the position one day of a popular minister of their own denomination. Every strictly proper device was used to change the mind of their laddie, but all to no purpose. His imagination, and perhaps his desire to minimise the grief of his parents, led him to urge that in a few years he would come to them, not only a captain, but an owner. The old people were secretly pleased to hear these aspirations from the lips of their much-beloved boy, but they felt it their duty to treat the case with becoming solemnity. "Ah, Archie," said his father, "I must warn you never to allow the things of this world to take possession of your thoughts in a way that will keep religion from you. I would remind you of the words of Solomon: 'Better is little with the fear of the Lord than great treasure and trouble therewith.'" However, he went to sea.

After four years and a half of hard training he had gained the reputation of being one of the smartest young fellows that sailed out of his port. He had become quite a favourite, not only with his shipmates, but with the captain and owner. There was neither surprise nor jealousy when the master recommended that his indentures should be endorsed, and that he should be given the mate's situation, which had become vacant. At this time he was in his twentieth year, and before he had reached twenty-one his owner gave him command of the vessel which about six years before he had joined as an apprentice. His rapid advancement and singular success as a shipmaster made his contemporaries speak of him as likely to reach the very highest place in the profession before he had attained his thirtieth year. Their estimate of the highest position was really very modest, as the largest vessel belonging to the port did not exceed 700 tons deadweight, and of these there were only about half-a-dozen. The general public rarely saw them except when they came off a long voyage and had repairs to do. Those occasions were looked upon as not merely incidental, but historic. The whole country-side turned out to witness the advent of what they conceived to be a leviathan; the vessel herself was dressed from truck to rail on every mast with bunting, and there was a corresponding display of it on shore. Events such as births, deaths, marriages, and other more or less interesting doings were accurately remembered by a visitation of this kind. The local almanac chronicled the occasion as minutely as it did the death of Nelson or the accession of Queen Victoria to the throne. So that if any lapse of memory occurred a reference to this touchstone of local history put matters right. Archie Macvie had longed for the time to come when someone would offer him command of a large vessel. His reputation as a clever, pushing, steady-going shipmaster had reached beyond the circle of local critics, which entitled him to expect speedy promotion. His owner, as well as other people, predicted great things of him, and it was whispered that he had immediate prospects that were dazzling in their lucrative possibilities. A landed proprietor, who owned the whole of a handsome barque, had heard of his fame, and wrote requesting Macvie to come and see him. The interview sealed the captain's future destiny. Mr Rockfeller received him with becoming dignity; but after a few minutes' conversation with the young captain his icy manner melted. He became aware that the man whom he had asked to be seated in the sumptuously-furnished drawing-room was his equal, if not his superior, in knowledge and intelligence.

"Your youthful appearance surprises me," said the lord of the manor.

"Yes," responded the shrewd Scotsman; "I have been told that before, and have often had reason to be grateful to a kind Providence in not necessarily prohibiting me from occupying a position of trust because of my juvenile appearance."

"Very good, very good," said Rockfeller. "And now, captain, I wish at once to offer you command of the first vessel that brought gold from Australia. Your wage will be L12 per month; and in order to give you a good start I offer you an eighth of the Boadicea at a low price. If you have the money to pay for it, well and good; if not I will be content to allow you to work it off."

"Your kindness overpowers me," replied Macvie; "I am sorry I have not sufficient money saved to pay for the share you so generously give me the opportunity of taking, and as I make it a rule never to purchase a thing I cannot pay for in cash, I am reluctantly compelled to refuse it."

"Very well," said the owner, "give me what you can spare, and I will forego the balance, and hand you a bill of sale for eight sixty-fourths. I do this not only because of the favourable impression you have made, but to make you feel that your interest is not merely that of a commander, but that of part owner with myself."

"I thank you; but may I suggest that this generosity be postponed until you have tested whether I will suit you or not?" said the lucky captain.

"No, I will risk that," replied Mr Rockfeller. "And now there is nothing left for me to say except to request that you join the vessel at once; and you have a free hand to do what you consider best with her."

Captain Macvie hurried home and conveyed to his young wife the good fortune that had come to them. He also informed his aged parents, whom he had not seen since his first home-leaving, of all that had taken place, and expressed his regret that he could not visit them before sailing on a voyage to the Piraeus, but hoped to do so on his return. This letter became a family heirloom. The joy of the old people was reflected on the whole family, and also on their friends, and the congratulations were numerous and sincere. In less than a week from the time of being engaged, the Boadicea was towed over the bar, and she sailed away followed by a north-east wind. The hurrahs of the visitors after embarking on the tug reverberated the joyous tidings of goodwill, and soon the ship and her jolly crew passed from view into the southern haze.

The Eastern question was causing great anxiety in diplomatic circles; trouble was fast brewing into open hostility, and before the Boadicea arrived at the port of discharge, the great Russian war of 1854 had broken out with all its hellish mismanagement and criminal indifference to the needs of the finest soldiers in the whole world. They were badly generalled, shockingly clothed and meagrely fed on provisions that the ordinary civilian would scarcely give to swine. Complaints of the grossest mismanagement were sent home and were unheeded; while the predatory, heartless scoundrels who had contracts were allowed to amass wealth by shamelessly robbing poor Tommy of his food and clothes. Mon Dieu! What forbearance the thinking, sympathetic portion of the British people must have had to endure it, knowing that their fellow-subjects and kinsfolk were being done to death by some contractors and by the callousness and incompetency of dunderheaded politicians and drawing-room warriors! It is a sickening subject that cannot be approached without feelings of anger.

The Boadicea made a quick passage, and was boarded on her arrival by swarms of Levantine gentlemen, each clamouring for first place to get her in hand to charter. The declaration of war had created a wild demand for transport tonnage. Sensational freights were offered for the veriest rattletraps, and as the young commander of the Boadicea estimated his craft to be one of the finest of her class afloat, he made a counter-bid which startled the Grecian modesty of his interesting visitors. The negotiations were animated, and before the day closed the vessel was chartered at a rate that would pay back her original cost in less than twelve months. Over and above this it was agreed that the captain should receive legitimate gratuities that amounted to more than double his wage per month. The director of transports ordered the vessel to be taken to Malta to load stores immediately she had finished discharging, and gave instructions that overtime should be worked in order to get the cargo of much needed supplies to the seat of war. It was a stirring time for the captain and his crew. In four days the holds were emptied and she sailed from the Piraeus on the fifth with 180 tons of sand ballast aboard. In five days from leaving Athens she arrived in the beautiful harbour of Valetta, and four days after left again with a full cargo of foods, stores and other supplies for Constantinople for orders. Every stitch of canvas was set after getting clear of the harbour; studding sails lower and aloft were spread to the kiss of the singing wind, and the officers were made to understand that there was to be hard cracking on; nothing was to be taken in until the maximum amount of endurance of spars, ropes and rigging had been reached. The breeze freshened and the sea curled its white tops into angry combers Captain Macvie walked the starboard quarterdeck with an air of dignity and luxury of dress that would have called forth the supreme contempt of his associates of earlier days. They would have stigmatized him as a fine-weather dandy, and not a true British sailor. The captain had never been past Gibraltar until he got command of his present vessel. As a matter of fact, he had rarely been off the coast, and never at any time as far south as Cape Finisterre. He had acquired large ideas of the magnificence that should be observed by a captain aboard a vessel of the Boadicea's size and class. He had heard also that the men liked to see monarchical display, and that is why he adopted it so naturally. The third day after leaving Malta the forecastle hands were congregated on the topgallant forecastle during the dogwatch from six to eight. The discussion was of an animated character. The second officer, who was an old hand in these waters, stood amongst them, and the speaker frequently referred to him in order that his statements might be confirmed. When the second officer came aft, the captain remarked that the boys seemed to have had a heated discussion.

"Mr Robb, may I take the liberty of asking if it is anything that may not be conveyed to me?"

"Not at all," said Mr Robb; "they were yarning about pirates that infest the Grecian Archipelago. They sneak out of the bays and from under the islands with the suddenness of a rocket. They have very swift schooners, many of them built in America for the slave trade, and they are full of well-armed, bloodthirsty villains who stick at nothing." It was according to the strictly observed ethics of South Spainer discipline that the commander never was supposed to so far lower the supremacy of high office as to speak directly to a common sailor, but only through his officers. Mr Robb took it for granted that this law had been rigidly observed, and therefore said to the captain.

"You know that fair-haired man who was talking so excitedly?"

Macvie, not wishing to appear familiar with his men, and perhaps in order to impress the officer with an air of majesty, replied:

"No, sir, I do not know him, but I think I recognize the sailor to whom you desire to call my attention. I saw him gesticulating, and I think I heard him swear frightfully."

"That may be, sir," said the second officer, "but he means no harm by it. He is indeed one of the best and bravest sailors attached to the British Mercantile Marine; and were it not a breach of etiquette, I would ask you to allow him to give you a brief account of all the curious experiences and hardships he has gone through in a short life."

"My curiosity impels me to consent, but my judgement forbids such familiarity. Had I been in charge of the Vanquisher I might have yielded; as it is, I must conform to the duty that devolves upon a person in my position by asking you to be the medium of communication of this sailor's strange adventures," said the captain.

"Very good," replied Robb, "then here is the story: I do not think he would like me to tell you, but he was a pirate himself for over twelve months. It came about like this. He and I were shipmates five years ago. The barque we were in was discharging at Athens. We asked for liberty to go ashore one Saturday night; he got a few glasses of grog too much, and became pally with some Greek sailors who spoke broken English. They asked him to go with them to some place of amusement, and in spite of my pleading with him not to do so, he went; the result being they decoyed him aboard their own vessel, which proved to be a pirate schooner. When he came to himself after his drunken sleep, the vessel was far out at sea. He was soon made to understand what he would be expected to do, and the terrible conditions under which he would be permitted to live. He was asked to take the oath of fidelity to their cause, which carried with it awful obligations and consequences if not rigidly adhered to; and after the hazy alcoholic stupor had been shivered out of him, he grasped the situation, and not only agreed to their code, but became, externally, the most enterprising of the gang. They were indebted to him for much useful information, though for some time his bona-fides were suspected because of his pushful partiality for conflict with any nationality rather than his own. He persuaded his friends that six out of ten British vessels kept firearms and powder magazines aboard, and that foreigners, such as Swedes, Norwegians, Danes and Germans gave in much sooner than his own countrymen. They cordially agreed with this, hence rarely gave chase after a Britisher except when he suggested it, and it was policy for him to do this sometimes in order to keep on perfectly good terms with them. He has told me that over and over again they boarded Norwegian vessels laden with flax, tallow or grain, and the crew asked them to take what they wanted and no resistance would be made. This, he says, was the best plan, because it saved blood from being spilt on either side. They used to fill the craft's holds from the cargo of the captured vessel; take any money or valuables, such as chronometers, that might be aboard; all firearms, gunpowder and implements of warfare had to be given up; and a squad of armed pirates covered their comrades who were operating for the benefit of the whole.

The grief of having to leave my old shipmate behind was only equalled by the mystery of what had become of him. He was very popular with all of us in the forecastle. His quick humour and gifted capacity to entertain and amuse endeared him to everybody. A born musician, he could play on almost any instrument, sing comic songs, and step-dance as well as any professional. His great weakness was love of gay company and grog. He belonged to very well-to-do, highly respectable people; and their sorrow at his supposed death was very bitter. His mother declared that the light had gone out of her life, and begged me never to cease trying to find out when on my voyages whether he was alive or not. The old lady said she feared the worst, but never ceased to pray and hope that some day he would be brought back to them. A little over a year had elapsed since the fateful night of his disappearance. I was on my second voyage in the same vessel, but had been promoted to boatswain. We had rounded Matapan with a snoring breeze on the port beam. We had just opened the Gulf of Nauplia out when the look-out man shouted, 'A vessel on the port bow!' She was carrying full sail, and steering towards us. We soon discerned that she was on an unfriendly errand, and that the intention was to try and board us. No one could be seen about the decks except the helmsman and a man apparently on the look out. If we altered our course she did the same; and whichever way we went, her sailing qualities outmatched ours. The excitement had grown to fever heat, as a great conflict was now imminent. Our men had been supplied with muskets, and told to conceal themselves and use them when the critical time came, and to make sure that every shot was effectual. Two small cannon, which were fixtures on the taffrail, were loaded ready to do service. At last she came within hailing distance of our weather beam. A man shouted through a speaking-trumpet in mongrel English to 'Heave to!' We did not heed this insolent command, but kept going. In a few minutes more a peremptory command came through the speaking-trumpet to 'Heave to, or we would be fired upon.'

"'Now's the time,' hissed our captain; 'we will do some damage to ourselves, but, by God, we'll teach them to order an English ship to be hove to! We must run right into his midships. I will give the order at the proper moment. The thing must be done with the suddenness of fork lightning. It is not the shooting so much as the sinking, and the panic that must be created by the suddenness of our action. 'Hard down the helm!' cried the captain. 'Let go your weather braces, and stand by to use your muskets and bayonets too if any of them attempt to board us.' In less than a minute the pirate schooner's doom was sealed. Our vessel struck her with such force amidships that she sank almost immediately. Instead of tacking their vessel, and getting out of our way, which they might have done, they were encouraged to fight; and the man who didn't was the man who has attracted your attention to-night. So far as we could tell, only himself and three of the Greeks were saved. They jumped aboard unarmed, and Jack, or 'Curly' as he was called, shouted out to me and the captain who he was. We were dumbfounded. He hastily told us how he had managed to bring about the disastrous results to the pirates, and asked the captain to put the Greeks, or whatever they were, into a boat and set them adrift. This was promptly agreed to, but before the painter was let go one of the sailors asked permission to shoot the beggars before they left, to prevent them killing somebody else. But our captain only laughed and ordered them from alongside. After cordially shaking hands with the captain and all the crew, Jack requested to be allowed to assist in clearing away the wreckage caused by the collision, and fixing the spare jib-boom, for that was the only spar carried away. Jack told us the pirates thought they had a soft thing on, as we seemed so undecided what to do, and that we could not have adopted a better move than we did. 'There is nothing frightens them like panic, and I played up to it as near as I could; but, by thunder! I played a high game. I stood to be shot by either you or my Christian friends,' said Jack; 'and upon my soul I feel that I have played them a dirty trick.' 'Not a bit of it,' said I. 'You have done your country, and especially us, a great service by helping to rid the world of a few murderous thieves and cunning assassins.'

"'Oh, damn it!' interjected Jack, 'I cannot allow you to call us such villanous names as that. My late friends considered their trade quite as honourable as yours. They knew that they were breaking the law by carrying on a game of what is called pillage or brigandage at sea; but then they thought the law was all wrong, and that it was unlawful to enforce such restrictions, or put any penalty on freedom of action. And, by Jove! their arguments were almost convincing; especially when we had to fight for what we wanted, and got wounded.'

"'I see that you have got scars on your cheek and hands. Were they received by encounter with some ship's crew?'

"'Yes,' said Jack, 'but not my own countrymen. It was a deadly fight.' And then he became pensive. I could see his mind was working, but he refused to be drawn into further conversation; and from that day to this I have not been able to get anything more out of him on that score. Though when he is in the mood, he relates the comical side of the sea-rovers' life in a most fascinating way, and frankly admits the better side to have a charm about it that only those who have lived the life can know. 'But,' he would add, 'I would rather stand here and ask that I might be shot if I thought there was any possibility of ever becoming one of them again. On the criminal side it resembles hell's tatterdemalions let loose. To call them thieves and murderers is to flatter them. Their vicious scoundrelism transcends either murder or thieving.'"

The hero of this sensational story was a well-built young fellow of twenty-three or twenty-four years old; he stood about five feet nine, and had the appearance of being possessed of great physical power; his cleanshaven face disclosed a beautiful mouth and two fine rows of teeth; his chin and nose indicated robust strength of character, and his large blue eyes, sparkling under well-formed eyebrows and a massive forehead, both spoke and laughed in a fascinating way while his tongue was speechless. In short, he was a good-looking, typical sailor, whose natural gifts made him popular and much sought after to amuse his comrades by doing a step-dance, telling a funny yarn, singing a comic song, or he would entertain them by reading from a book.

"I have told this tale at your own request, captain," said the second officer. "My main object has been not only to interest you, but to inform you of the dangers that may be expected in navigating these piratical waters. And I have been asked by Curly to warn you against hugging the land. He advises keeping well in mid-channel, as you are more likely to carry a true wind; and if any of the rovers should make their appearance and attempt pursuit, he says the thing that would terrify them most would be to shape at running them down; but if that course is adopted it must not be done in a halfhearted way. There should be no first-you-will and then-you-won't policy. Nothing but a daring, unfaltering attitude directed fair for the amidships can be effectual. They fear the loss of their vessel more than the disablement of a few men; and the leader of the band fears as much as anything the creation of panic amongst his followers. Damage to the running down vessel must be counted upon, but it must be arranged so that the other gets hit so badly that, instead of fighting they have to swim for their lives or plead for mercy. Curly informs me this is their prowling time, and they may be expected to pop out from any of the islands as we pass along."

Captain Macvie was much impressed, and thanked his second officer for relating to him a story so full of keen interest and useful information.

"You may rely on the facts being correct," said Mr Robb, "but should you have any doubts as to the authenticity of some of the things I have been talking to you about, reserve your final judgement, because it is pretty certain that you won't be long in this trade until you find out I have not exaggerated one single incident, and that there are gentlemen cruising in these waters who claim a law unto themselves, and who make a speciality of brigandage and murder. I understand from Curly that many of them are educated and well-bred, and that it is the love of adventure that causes that section of them to take to the life. They are adepts at playing the double role of society person and murderous buccaneer. In both capacities they are fascinating, and really irresistible at a ball or a dinner-party; so much so, indeed, that it is not an uncommon thing for young ladies of gentle birth to become their wives, and in exceptional cases share their adventures."

"Oh," said Captain Macvie, "you must not suppose that I doubt the truth of what you have related to me. I think it quite possible, and we must be prepared to cope with any sudden emergency of a similar character. I must now bid you good-night. You will find instructions in the night order book. I do not wish to be disturbed unless something unusual occurs."

Right through the night the Boadicea romped along at the rate of ten knots an hour, and when the captain came on deck at eight o'clock the following morning she was flying through the Cerigo passage under double-reefed topsails and courses.

"There is no fear of any pirates troubling us if this continues," remarked the captain.

"Not any," responded the chief mate, "and I think we shall have more of it before we have less. You won't be able to carry this press of canvas after passing Andros. We will have the wind more on the port quarter, and she will bury herself after opening the AEgean Sea."

"Very well," said Macvie in an angry tone, "let her bury herself; and in order that her qualities may be tested before we reach this wonderful sea of yours, let the reefs out of the topsails and masthead them. I desire you to know, Mr Scrivener, that I shall be the judge when to shorten sail and when to set it. Do you imagine, sir, because I only commanded a collier before coming here that I do not know my business? Please remember that I am master of this craft, not you."

This was a crushing rebuke for the mate, and he resolved that if the masts were going over the side he would never make another suggestion while his chief was on deck. The additional canvas did not improve matters, as her flat bows sent the sea churning angrily ahead, and the spray flew all over her in smothering clouds. Mr Scrivener was secretly glad that she was "making such a mess of herself," as he called it, but he did not deem it prudent to say so to his captain. But, as he afterwards said, it was not necessary to do this, for he saw the skipper was thinking hard enough himself, though he was too proud to own it, and would have seen the masts go by the board rather than show weakness in shortening sail after what had passed. This freak, however, kept him on deck all day and all night, for there was no abatement of either wind or sea, until she was swept into the Dardanelles. The sail had to be shortened so that she might be hove to, and the boat sent ashore at Chanak to receive pratique and a permit to allow her to pass through into the sea of Marmora. Many an expensive salvage case and many a life has been lost through this barbarous system. It is the worst part of the channel for erratic currents, and notwithstanding the disasters to life and property, it has only been possible to establish a steam launch there during the last twelve months. As soon as the boat returned with the clearance she was hoisted up, and the vessel headed on her course through the straits. The west wind blew through the narrow passage with screaming gusts, and the volley of water was churned into flying foam as she rushed along under a heavy press of sail; for the young commander was bent on letting his officers and men see that he knew how to crack on without losing his head, and the average sailor rejoices in being able to say that he has sailed with a man who was "a slogger." On the other hand, I have more than once seen a whole crew come aft and ask the captain to reduce the sail when the vessel was burying herself and the spars and sails were in danger of being carried away; and I have more than once seen deputations of this sort sent about their business, followed by a wrathful flow of well-selected oaths that are only used by persons who have a very resourceful vocabulary. It is not an uncommon thing for men to grumble and refuse to go aloft and furl a royal or topgallant sail when it has been carried too long; and I have seen the captain spring up the rigging and appeal to their manliness to follow him. This challenge rarely fails to bring forth volunteers, and those who lag behind have been the cause of bringing torrents of wickedness into the world.

Captain Macvie was not a man who swore. He was more inclined to adhere to his rigid Presbyterian training by quoting a psalm or a proverb to emphasise displeasure or convey a rebuke. His officers did not comprehend how he could be so unemotional and yet throw so much energy and dash into the navigation of his vessel. Externally he was cool, reticent, authoritative. He gave orders peremptorily, without hesitation; and both officers and sailors like to feel that they have a strong personality commanding them. The first and second mate had formed an impression, owing to their captain never having been in these regions before, that he would frequently have to appeal to them for information and advice, and they were almost chagrined when they found that he never once showed any indication of asking for information. But what caused them to marvel was the masterful way in which he handled his vessel, and navigated her not only through amongst the islands, but through a narrow waterway that he had never seen before. The first officer ventured to make a suggestion, when drawing towards Chanak, as to the method of heaving the vessel to, so that the boat might be picked up easily. The captain retorted with almost oriental dignity.

"Sir," said he, "when I was asked to take command of this vessel I did not consent until I was perfectly assured of its being within the limit of my capacity to do so, and it has not yet occurred to me that I am incapable of carrying out what I undertook to do unaided by anyone. Please do not think me angry with you. I only wish to say that you may rely on my making use of your wide knowledge and experience when I find my capacity defective. But not having realized that yet, I prefer to depend on my own tactics in all that appertains to the navigation and handling of the ship I have the honour to command."

The mate received this piece of information in subdued silence. It took him all aback. He had not taken the trouble to ascertain whether there was force and ability behind his chief's placid, silent exterior, and the lesson he received was salutary and lasting. He watched with a critical eye the management and navigation as the Boadicea was pressed through the stream past Gallipoli into the sea of Marmora, and admitted to the second mate that but for the excessive carrying on there was no flaw to be found.

"Indeed," said he, "I am beginning to see that we have got our master here in everything. I'm sure he is a gentleman, and I wouldn't be surprised to find that he's a sailor as well."

The following night the wind had fallen away to a gentle breeze. The vessel was sailed close past San Stephano, and soon came within range of that weird sepulchral cry of the Turk for the return of their prophet Mahomet. I know what it is like, for I have often stood on deck and listened to the melancholy wailing call of scores of voices appealing to their God, and filling the air with thrilling pathos, until I have been stricken with a sense of sadness myself, which caused me to envy the devotion of the people whom we, who call ourselves Christians, deride. Macvie was greatly touched by the sombre wail that was wafted over the glassy waters, and for a brief moment it took his thoughts to the old home of prayer and saintly song, and made him wonder whether the God to whom these people were calling could also be his. But he had no time to ponder over eternal things. His vessel was slipping towards the anchorage at Scutari. A suitable berth was picked, the anchor dropped, sails furled, and then the captain's gig was made ready by her crew, who were ordered to wash and dress themselves in white ducks and blue jerseys, the latter having the name of the vessel in front. All being ready, the master stepped into the boat and was rowed in regal style to a landing in the Golden Horn. He was met there by an agent, who informed him that he knew the stores were much needed in the Crimea, but no official instructions having been given, he would have to remain at anchor until they came.

"But don't you think," said the captain, "it would be as well for me to proceed off Sevastopol or Kertch, and see if they really are in need of the supplies I have on board?"

"My dear fellow," replied the agent, "you must never think of doing such a thing. It would be deemed a breach of the rules of the service, and you might be court-martialled and lose a splendid charter for doing so. Take my advice: lie where you are until red-tapeism finds out that the wares you are carrying for Government account are needed. You can make use of the time by putting your vessel in good order. It may be months before they come to your turn, and until they precisely come to it, you may rely on hearing nothing from them. Departmental methods are very exact. You must never be donkey enough to interfere with an ancient order of things: it might throw the machinery of uniformity into chaos. Of course I know you will say, 'That is all very excellent: but what about the poor, ill-fed, ill-clad, fever-stricken soldiers? Is it right that I should be an accomplice in this dreadful crime?' For God's sake, captain, leave off thinking like that, or it will harrow your soul out of its casing; look at things from the broad, brainless point of view of your mechanical employers who do everything by routine. Go on board and order your sails to be unbent and put into the sail cabin, for as sure as I am talking to you now, they will not be needed for months."

"Will they not have heard at home of the distress in the army?" interjected Captain Macvie.

"Why, yes, captain," said the versatile agent; "but, my dear fellow, do try to get it into your head that these things have to go through many intricate stages. First, the trouble which ought to have been foreseen takes place; then weeks are occupied in transfixed amazement without doing anything; then a council is held to consider why these breakdowns should happen; and the conclusion arrived at is that they should never have happened, therefore they have not taken place, and it is resolved to await further developments before doing anything more. How is it possible for the British army to have sickness in its ranks when we have thought of sending out medicine? And how can they be without food and clothes when we have given orders to our contractors to have these supplied? It is a malicious libel to assert such things, to say nothing of the lack of commonsense in supposing that the commissariat department does not know its own business."

"Well," said the captain, "I must admit you seem to know the inner workings of these Government concerns."

"I should just think I do," said the agent; "but of course we have to speak with some regard to discretion. I am only giving you a tip or two to keep you right. You will be going off aboard, so I will say 'good-day.' Come ashore to-morrow."

The captain had many opportunities of hearing from this voluble person of the magnificent mismanagement shown by the way the transports were kicking about in different parts of the Bosphorus and in the Black Sea. Many of them would sail to Kertch or Sevastopol and come straight back without their cargoes being broached. They anchored in a snug spot where the shore was easy of access, and would remain for months in peaceful indolence. The Boadicea had been dismantled, and her anchor was never seen for six months. How the men were to be kept employed became a tax on the resources of the officers. Her sails, ropes and rigging had been thoroughly overhauled, repaired and made equal to new, and the hull showed indications of great taste and care. Not a speck of dirt or disorder could be seen anywhere; and notwithstanding the jolly entertainments, vocal and otherwise, they had on board each others' vessels almost every night, the life of inactivity became so dreary that they longed for the time when orders would be given to proceed to the Crimea. It was not mere change they longed for, but they craved to see the fighting on shore, and, better still, the bombardment of towns and ports by the warships from the sea. Many of the merchant sailors would have enjoyed taking part in the struggle.

Although the life at the Scutari anchorage had become a weary monotony, it was not without incidents of excitement. Constantinople at that time was overrun with the most daring brigands, who paid irregular visits to the different roadsteads between midnight and the early hours of the morning. They were armed with the most deadly weapons, and their secret movements frequently evaded every precaution of watchfulness. The sneaking caique, manned by accomplished emissaries handling muffled oars, was rowed through the anchorage in advance, and for the purpose of finding out the most vulnerable object of attack. Occasionally they selected the wrong ship, and met with a sudden determined resistance from the crew, who were eager for an opportunity of wreaking vengeance on a gang of murderous ruffians who kept the men of the whole mercantile fleet in these waters in a state of perpetual expectancy. Most ingenious methods were planned for their destruction. An anchor, for instance, would be hanging to the rail of the topgallant forecastle, or the cathead, and, as the caique came dropping down with the current, if they drifted her under the bow, the stopper and shankpainter was let go simultaneously, and the anchor landed on their heads and then through the bottom of the boat. Nothing more was ever seen of that batch! Another plan was to drop large stones or pieces of heavy iron into the frail craft; and in that case also no more was ever heard from them. These chances seldom came, however, as they were a wily lot, who nearly always made sure of their ground before embarking on a hazardous expedition. The crews of vessels were warned to keep a vigilant lookout, and sometimes the anchor watch succeeded in giving the alarm in time to frustrate a boarding.

But even this, and the open encounters that occurred, became a very monotonous business to a large number of crews. They were itching for some other sensation to be put into their lives, and they had moods of gloomy forebodings that the great war would be ended without their being able to say that they had seen anything of it; and, in fact, many of them never did, and it is fair to say some never wanted to. Poor Captain Wilkins of the Seaflower and his crew were among the latter. The captain was a highly religious person who had imbued his men with anti-war proclivities. He had a simple faith in the righteousness of making large profits in consequence of the war, but never failed to proclaim the originators of it as a gang of unholy rascals. His faith had become strong in the belief that the robber was destined never to set foot on the Seaflower's decks. She had been lying there for several months without ever having been interfered with. Captain Wilkins was not unduly sympathetic when he heard of any neighbouring vessel being pillaged during the night. In fact, he became so impressed with his own virtue that he frequently fell into the error of speaking contemptuously of his less fortunate brethren. Captain Macvie had warned him against indulging in self-righteousness, and never to pin his faith on immunity from attack.

"It may come," said he, "when you least expect it; and in order that you may cultivate a more generous spirit towards your neighbours when misfortune befalls them, always keep in mind the proverb: 'Rejoice not when thine enemy falleth, and let not thine heart be glad when he stumbleth, lest the Lord see it and it displease Him.' These are words that ought to be burnt into our minds and hearts."

"Yes," said Wilkins, "I appreciate your goodness in quoting them. They have reminded me that I have not been sufficiently charitable in judging others, while I have been at the same time professing to have the spirit of the great Redeemer."

Captain Wilkins held a prayer-meeting in his cabin each evening before the watch was set, and his friend Macvie nearly always attended, and professed to receive great spiritual benefit therefrom. At those devotional gatherings there was a simple petition offered to the Giver of all good that He should guard them during the night from the crimeful visitations of wicked men who coveted that which did not belong to them, and who did not shrink from murder in order to get it. Captain Wilkins had a profound belief in the efficacy of prayer, and was therefore staggered when he realized about two o'clock one morning that a giant of coppery colour stood over him with a revolver, while his compatriots helped themselves to all that was of value. At the time this was going on in the cabin, there stood an armed man at the entrance to the sailors' forecastle, and another in the galley in unpleasant proximity to the eldest apprentice, who had fallen asleep before the fire, and while he had slept the vessel had been boarded. Had he attempted to move or shout or make a noise of any kind whatsoever, his life would have been instantly taken, and his body thrown into the rushing stream. Poor fellow! I have often heard him speak of the dull terror that took possession of him when he awoke and saw that his own life and the lives of the whole ship's company depended on his submission and silence. The chronometer, every piece of brass, and every sail and rope of any importance was taken out of her, and this included the sails that were unbent. In fact, there was not a single article of that kind left aboard when the brigands went from alongside. This was one of the most daring and gigantic robberies that had taken place during the whole time the fleet had lain at anchor. Naturally it created a great sensation both afloat and ashore. Captain Wilkins was the object of much genuine sympathy. The whole of the personal losses of his officers and himself were promptly made good by subscription, and a good deal of the vessel's loss was contributed for as well. Never a finger was put on the perpetrators, though it was said the authorities were cognizant of their whereabouts. It was also whispered that they had accomplices in persons holding high official position, but this was never in any degree proved, and I should say it had no foundation in fact. The idea may have originated in consequence of the lethargic attitude of the officials whose duty it was to see that they were captured. At this time lawlessness was rampant in those parts, and it would have been beyond the capacity of even a more alert and energetic officialism to subdue its ferocious and determined attacks. In addition to the open brigandage that was carried on, several captains who for some reason were detained ashore until after dark were obliged to engage caiques to take them off to their vessels, and when in mid-stream the boat's crew, consisting as a rule of two Turks (or Greeks in Turks' clothing), would lay their oars in and demand them to give up all their money and valuables, or they would be thrown into the Bosphorus. And if they had the good fortune to have as their passenger a timid man they demanded that every article of dress should be given up so that they might be assured that nothing was concealed. Some of the more courageous and defiant, instead of complying with this peremptory request, took a revolver from a pocket, pointed it at the gentlemen at the oars, and suggested that as soon as they ceased to row they would have a lump of lead put into their heads. Whereupon they usually did as they were told. In cases of this kind the oars were taken from them as soon as the captain was put aboard and they were then set adrift. It was believed that several captains who never turned up were overpowered, robbed, and then thrown overboard.

The weather from the middle of October had been fitful and treacherous. On November 14, 1854, a terrible hurricane burst on the Crimean coast and wrecked nearly the whole of the British transports which lay at anchor in the roadsteads. Several warships and transports belonging to the French were wrecked. The British war vessels suffered severely, but none were said to have been lost. The loss of property was estimated at over a million, and the loss of life between 1,500 and 2,000. The devastation and suffering ashore was also very terrible. The news of the frightful disaster came to Constantinople on the night that the Seaflower was pillaged. Instructions were given to send on supplies; the captain of the Boadicea was among those who received orders to proceed off Sevastopol without delay. Wilkins was in great distress at having to part from the man whom he regarded as his friend and faithful adviser. Tugs were sent to tow the vessels through the Bosphorus into the Black Sea. A fresh wind blew from the west, and in four days after leaving, Captain Macvie anchored his ship in Sevastopol Roads, and many weeks elapsed before a particle of cargo was taken out and landed for the benefit of the much neglected soldiers—such was the disorganized condition of the service. Macvie and his crew saw many a skirmish and several pitched battles during their five months' stay in the vicinity of wild wreck and ruin. In April, 1855, the cargo had been all landed and instructions were given to sail at once for Constantinople. In due course they arrived there, and received orders to go on to Smyrna, to load hay and oats. Six weeks after passing down, she anchored in Scutari and lay there until peace was declared in 1856, when orders were given to take the cargo to Portsmouth. After about two years' absence the Boadicea arrived in England; and on squaring up her accounts it was found that she had cleared more than twice her original cost. Mr Rockfeller received his fortunate and esteemed captain with much favour, and was not many minutes in his presence before he intimated with an air of generosity that he would sell his shares at par.

"I think," said he, "that you ought to hold half the vessel."

"Very good," said Macvie, "I will pay you cash for the number of shares I require to make up my half share, but you must not ask me to pay the original cost price."

"Macvie," said Rockfeller, "I wish you to be reminded that I gave you eight shares to work off when you joined me. I fear you allow your national love of money to lure you into forgetfulness."

"No, no," said the shrewd Scotchman; "you are wrong. I do not forget you having done what you say, nor do I forget that I have paid you a good price for what you were good enough to give me, and it is as well that your attention should be drawn to the fact that, owing to my foresight in chartering with the Government, the vessel has more than twice paid for herself in less than two years. Besides, if you are not satisfied with my services I have a very tempting offer from another firm."

At this stage Mr Rockfeller showed signs of nervous twitching, and interposed by assuming an injured air:

"Really, Captain Macvie, you must be reasonable, and not talk of other firms bidding for your services. I feel you are more than a match for me, and the thought of it makes me wish I had been born and reared a Scotchman. I know I am weak, but you may have the shares at any price you name; only don't be too exacting."

"Very good," replied Macvie, "they are mine at L1,000."

Rockfeller looked aghast, and again appealed to his sense of justice. The bargain was closed at L200 more.

Mr Rockfeller became transfixed with the thought of his own generous simplicity. He soliloquised, "I think I must have been born to become the victim of a stronger will than my own. Nature, I am assured, has freaked with me. Yes, Captain Macvie, you are in many ways the antithesis of myself; and my experience of you is very similar to the description given of a horse by the melancholy though eloquent Arab. I think these words describe our relations, my young friend, though the superb old philosopher who is reported to have said them never anticipated that they would be used in any such way: 'Hast thou given the horse strength? Hast thou clothed his neck with thunder? Canst thou make him afraid as a grasshopper? The glory of his nostrils is terrible. He paweth in the valley and rejoiceth in his strength: he goeth on to meet the armed men: he mocketh at fear, and is not affrighted: neither turneth he back from the sword. He saith among the trumpets, Ha, ha! and he smelleth the battle afar off, the thunder of the captains and the shouting.'"

"If," said the commander, "you mean these words of holy writ to apply to me, I am gratified, but fear you have under-estimated their grandeur and their real meaning. They pulsate the air, and make the heart throb with a conviction that the world of literature would have been poorer had they not been written. And now, Mr Rockfeller, let us cease further attempts at satire, and get to business. I wish to visit my parents who are very old; but before doing so I should like to have our little transaction settled and the future employment of the vessel arranged." The request was duly complied with in both respects.

The reunion of every branch of the Macvie family to do honour to the Captain and his wife was the occasion of great rejoicing. He had promised, long years before, on the eve of entering upon the real battle of life, that he would not return until he was a Captain, and may-be an owner, and he now presented himself with pride and modesty at the old homestead, thronged with a vast number of friends who came to welcome and congratulate him on having become both. After the flow of greeting had subsided, he requested a private interview with his father and mother. He informed them that a great joy had come into his life in being able to give a bankers' order for the payment of four pounds per month to them as long as they lived. The saintly couple's mental process became confused. They entered upon a long disquisition of how much affluence might affect their humility and endanger their religious life. The noble son urged that their faith in God was too strong to allow the possession of money to betray them into indifference. The father being spokesman replied on behalf of his wife that they accepted this bountiful goodness, "And believe me, my son," he said, "our hearts are too full to say all we feel; but may the great God have you in His holy keeping, and preserve you from the snares and fascinations of worldliness."

And the aged mother interjected by adding a supplementary petition that he should be saved from succumbing to the dangers of his profession.

"Take this present from your father and me," she added, handing him a new Bible which she had kept concealed under her black silk apron until the opportune moment came, "and when you are tossed on the troubled ocean, read about Jesus and the sea, and trust in the Lord to bring you back to us."

These simple words were delivered with compressed vehemence. A big lump stuck in Archie's throat, for he felt that it was his mother's farewell benediction, and that he would never see either of them on earth again. He would have liked to have responded in a few endearing phrases, but a dumb pain seized his heart and made him inarticulate. He tenderly embraced the old people and passed from their presence with a heavy heart, impressed with a consciousness that their next meeting would be beyond the tomb. A large procession of townspeople met at the station, in order to give the Captain and his wife a hearty send-off. Even the Provost came to say good-bye to them.

On their arrival home they found a letter had come from their friend Captain Wilkins. It was dated from Malta, and told a sickening tale of many disasters before getting away from Scutari. Two attempts at robbery had failed at the cost of one of the crew losing his life, and another being seriously wounded. Wilkins wrote: "It was bad policy making any noise about the big robbery, as it only made them revengeful." This news distressed the Macvies, but they could do nothing more than extend their sympathy, and this was tactfully and ungrudgingly given.

Captain Macvie had a long clean record of success. His popularity among his contemporaries was a growing process. No signs of rivalry were seen. He was looked up to as an authority, not only on nautical matters, but social, political and religious questions were well within his grasp. On one memorable occasion, when he was at home, a church meeting was called to consider the minister's relation in regard to his people. It was thought that he was not sound on sanctification, and one or two little matters that did not exactly bear on sanctification—a love affair, in fact. The gallant captain took the side of his minister, and put such a convincing case before his audience that a large majority declared the accusation not proven. There was wild excitement at this meeting; the hostile faction were rancorous about the captain being put up, as they assumed he could not possibly know all the facts; but both sides were one in admitting that his fame as a debater and an orator was established. So general was this belief that many of his adversaries congratulated him on having delivered a most eloquent speech.

The desire to sail with this distinguished man seized me like a vice. I determined as soon as I was free (for I was at that time an apprentice) nothing would prevent me from asking him to allow me to serve as an able seaman in the vessel which now entirely belonged to him. In a few days after making the memorable speech at his church, the Boadicea was sailing down Channel on her way to the Black Sea. Mrs Macvie was aboard. She nearly always accompanied her husband, and was a good English woman, to whom the captain owed much for her thrifty habits and sound judgement. All the officers and most of the crew had sailed continuously with him since he took command. Curly, who had served aboard a pirate schooner, became quite an institution. He was very popular, and so were his pirate stories when he could be persuaded to tell them. He had served Macvie as A. B., boatswain, and was now steward. They had been to Taganrog and loaded a cargo of tallow for London. A gentle levanter was wafting them through the Archipelago. When they got abreast of the north end of Zea Island they observed a brigantine coming romping up to them under a cloud of sail. In light winds the Boadicea did not sail fast. The breakfast bell had been rung, and as the captain was passing into the companion, Curly, who was standing close to, intimated that the following vessel was a pirate ship, and that she would soon overhaul them if the wind did not strengthen. Curly was always addressed as "Johnny" by Mrs Macvie, who was very fond of him, and as "Jake" by her husband, with whom he was a great favourite. The lady observed the concerned manner of the captain, and requested him to confer with Johnny as to the method of resistance should the schooner run alongside and the pirates attempt to come aboard. "He knows all about their tricks, and what they like and what they don't; let us hear what he has to say, Archie," said Mrs Macvie. So forthwith Jake was called into their presence. This resourceful gentleman was quite elated at the prospect of having some fun, as he termed it. His recommendations were of a very painful and drastic character. He talked of putting them into practice in a cool, frosty-blooded way which caused the lady and her husband to shudder. "It is too dreadful, Johnny," remarked Mrs Macvie; "surely what you say has never been resorted to, even to defeat the objects of pirates?"

"I don't suppose it has," said the sanguinary John; "but if you wish to save your property and the lives of yourselves and your crew, you will have to stick at nothing. My advice is, do your best to show them a clean pair of heels. If you get plenty of wind in the narrows you will easily do it; but be prepared for the worst. This is my plan: have everything that will hold in, filled with boiling water, boiling oil, and boiling pitch; have the old muskets ready for firing. If they ask you to shorten sail, don't do so. They will then run alongside, and as soon as they put their hands on the rail, blind them with boiling liquid. Then shoot with the rifles, and they won't want much telling to go away."

The chase was long and exciting. Sometimes the pirate vessel was very nearly within gun range, then the breeze would strengthen and she would fall astern. This alternate gaining and losing continued all day, until the sun went down behind the mountains far away to the north of them, and seemed to carry with it the breeze on which they had to depend for their safety. The chasing vessel gathered way as soon as the wind fell light, and the people of the Boadicea saw that all hope of avoiding a fight must be discounted. Curly advised having it before darkness came on, but there was no need to wish for this as the stern inevitable had come. The pirates had almost within their grasp their expected prize, but were doomed to meet with a terrible penalty. They put their craft alongside, and about a score of men made a jump for the rail, when the intrepid Jake, who had full charge of the plan of defence and attack, shouted: "Now boys, pour it on them smartly!" and in an instant the pirates were an agonized rabble. Some of them jumped into the sea; others fell back on to their own vessel; two got on to the Boadicea's deck, but were promptly put over the side. Boiling oil and pitch as well as boiling water were thrown aboard the schooner, so that even those who did not attempt a boarding did not escape the awful consequences of their piratical invasion. As soon as Captain Macvie saw that the punishment had been so great that they would more than probably never fight again, he tried to steer clear, but found the braces and other ropes had become entangled with the foreyard, which broke, and then the vessels separated. The stillness of the night was made a horror by the piteous moans that floated over the level sea, and excited the sympathy of the men who were compelled to inflict the suffering in order to preserve their own safety. They felt an instinctive desire to launch a boat and go to the succour of their victims. Curly, who knew the desperate character of these fearful men, advised his shipmates to have neither remorse nor pity. He assured them that the lesson given to the miscreants would not prevent those who might recover or those who had received no injury from taking to their trade with the same thievish and murderous zeal as they had practised heretofore.