The Christmas Wreck

by Frank Stockton

　　"Well, sir," said old Silas, as he gave a preliminary puff to thepipe he had just lighted, and so satisfied himself that thedraught was all right, "the wind's a-comin', an' so's Christmas.But it's no use bein' in a hurry fur either of 'em, fur sometimesthey come afore you want 'em, anyway."Silas was sitting in the stern of a small sailing-boat whichhe owned, and in which he sometimes took the Sandport visitorsout for a sail, and at other times applied to its more legitimatebut less profitable use, that of fishing. That afternoon he hadtaken young Mr. Nugent for a brief excursion on that portion ofthe Atlantic Ocean which sends its breakers up on the beach ofSandport. But he had found it difficult, nay, impossible, justnow, to bring him back, for the wind had gradually died awayuntil there was not a breath of it left. Mr. Nugent, to whomnautical experiences were as new as the very nautical suit ofblue flannel which he wore, rather liked the calm. It was such arelief to the monotony of rolling waves. He took out a cigar andlighted it, and then he remarked:"I can easily imagine how a wind might come before you sailorsmight want it, but I don't see how Christmas could come toosoon.""It come wunst on me when things couldn't `a' looked moreonready fur it," said Silas."How was that?" asked Mr. Nugent, settling himself a littlemore comfortably on the hard thwart. "If it's a story, let'shave it. This is a good time to spin a yarn.""Very well," said old Silas. "I'll spin her."The bare-legged boy whose duty it was to stay forward andmind the jib came aft as soon as he smelt a story, and took anautical position, which was duly studied by Mr. Nugent, on a bagof ballast in the bottom of the boat."It's nigh on to fifteen year ago," said Silas, "that I wason the bark Mary Auguster, bound for Sydney, New South Wales,with a cargo of canned goods. We was somewhere about longitood ahundred an' seventy, latitood nothin', an' it was the twenty-second o' December, when we was ketched by a reg'lar typhoonwhich blew straight along, end on, fur a day an' a half. It blewaway the storm-sails. It blew away every yard, spar, shroud, an'every strand o' riggin', an' snapped the masts off close to thedeck. It blew away all the boats. It blew away the cook'scaboose, an' everythin' else on deck. It blew off the hatches,an' sent 'em spinnin' in the air about a mile to leeward. An'afore it got through, it washed away the cap'n an' all the crew'cept me an' two others. These was Tom Simmons, the second mate,an' Andy Boyle, a chap from the Adirondack Mount'ins, who'd neverbeen to sea afore. As he was a landsman, he ought, by rights, to'a' been swep' off by the wind an' water, consid'rin' that thecap'n an' sixteen good seamen had gone a'ready. But he had handseleven inches long, an' that give him a grip which notyphoon could git the better of. Andy had let out that hisfather was a miller up there in York State, an' a story had gotround among the crew that his granfather an' great-gran'fatherwas millers, too; an' the way the fam'ly got such big hands comefrom their habit of scoopin' up a extry quart or two of meal orflour fur themselves when they was levellin' off their customers'measures. He was a good-natered feller, though, an' never gotriled when I'd tell him to clap his flour-scoops onter a halyard."We was all soaked, an' washed, an' beat, an' battered. Weheld on some way or other till the wind blowed itself out, an'then we got on our legs an' began to look about us to see howthings stood. The sea had washed into the open hatches till thevessel was more'n half full of water, an' that had sunk her, sodeep that she must 'a' looked like a canal-boat loaded withgravel. We hadn't had a thing to eat or drink durin' that wholeblow, an' we was pretty ravenous. We found a keg of water whichwas all right, and a box of biscuit which was what you might callsofttack, fur they was soaked through an' through with sea-water.We eat a lot of them so, fur we couldn't wait, an' the rest wespread on the deck to dry, fur the sun was now shinin' hot enoughto bake bread. We couldn't go below much, fur there was a prettygood swell on the sea, an' things was floatin' about so's to makeit dangerous. But we fished out a piece of canvas, which werigged up ag'in' the stump of the mainmast so that we could havesomethin' that we could sit down an' grumble under. What struckus all the hardest was that the bark was loaded with a wholecargo of jolly things to eat, which was just as good as ever theywas, fur the water couldn't git through the tin cans in whichthey was all put up, an' here we was with nothin' to live on butthem salted biscuit. There wasn't no way of gittin' at any ofthe ship's stores, or any of the fancy prog, fur everythin' wasstowed away tight under six or seven feet of water, an' prettynigh all the room that was left between decks was filled up withextry spars, lumber, boxes, an' other floatin' stuff. All wasshiftin', an' bumpin', an' bangin' every time the vessel rolled."As I said afore, Tom was second mate, an' I was bo's'n.Says I to Tom, `The thing we've got to do is to put up some kindof a spar with a rag on it fur a distress flag, so that we'lllose no time bein' took off.' `There's no use a-slavin' atanythin' like that,' says Tom, `fur we've been blowed off thetrack of traders, an' the more we work the hungrier we'll git,an' the sooner will them biscuit be gone.'"Now when I heared Tom say this I sot still an' began toconsider. Bein' second mate, Tom was, by rights, in command ofthis craft. But it was easy enough to see that if he commandedthere'd never be nothin' fur Andy an' me to do. All the grit hehad in him he'd used up in holdin' on durin' that typhoon. Whathe wanted to do now was to make himself comfortable till the timecome for him to go to Davy Jones's locker--an' thinkin', mostlikely, that Davy couldn't make it any hotter fur him than it wason that deck, still in latitood nothin' at all, fur we'd beenblowed along the line pretty nigh due west. So I calls to Andy,who was busy turnin' over the biscuits on the deck. `Andy,' saysI, when he had got under the canvas, `we's goin' to have a'lection fur skipper. Tom, here, is about played out. He's onecandydate, an' I'm another. Now, who do you vote fur? An' mindyer eye, youngster, that you don't make no mistake.' `I vote furyou' says Andy. `Carried unanermous!' says I. `An' I want youto take notice that I'm cap'n of what's left of the MaryAuguster, an' you two has got to keep your minds on that, an'obey orders.' If Davy Jones was to do all that Tom Simmons saidwhen he heared this, the old chap would be kept busier than heever was yit. But I let him growl his growl out, knowin' he'dcome round all right, fur there wasn't no help fur it,consid'rin' Andy an' me was two to his one. Pretty soon we allwent to work, an' got up a spar from below, which we rigged tothe stump of the foremast, with Andy's shirt atop of it."Them sea-soaked, sun-dried biscuit was pretty mean prog, asyou might think, but we eat so many of 'em that afternoon, an''cordingly drank so much water, that I was obliged to put us allon short rations the next day. `This is the day aforeChristmas,' says Andy Boyle, `an' to-night will be Christmas eve,an' it's pretty tough fur us to be sittin' here with not even somuch hardtack as we want, an' all the time thinkin' that the holdof this ship is packed full of the gayest kind of good things toeat.' `Shut up about Christmas!' says Tom Simmons. `Them twoyoungsters of mine, up in Bangor, is havin' their toes and nosespretty nigh froze, I 'spect, but they'll hang up their stockin'sall the same to-night, never thinkin' that their dad's bein'cooked alive on a empty stomach.' `Of course they wouldn't hang'em up,' says I, if they knowed what a fix you was in, butthey don't know it, an' what's the use of grumblin' at 'em furbein' a little jolly?' `Well,' says Andy `they couldn't be morejollier than I'd be if I could git at some of them fancy fixin'sdown in the hold. I worked well on to a week at 'Frisco puttin'in them boxes, an' the names of the things was on the outside ofmost of 'em; an' I tell you what it is, mates, it made my mouthwater, even then, to read 'em, an' I wasn't hungry, nuther,havin' plenty to eat three times a day. There was roast beef,an' roast mutton, an' duck, an' chicken, an' soup, an' peas, an'beans, an' termaters, an' plum-puddin',an' mince-pie--' `Shut upwith your mince-pie!' sung out Tom Simmons. `Isn't it enough tohave to gnaw on these salt chips, without hearin' about mince-pie?' `An' more'n that' says Andy, `there was canned peaches,an' pears, an' plums, an' cherries.'"Now these things did sound so cool an' good to me on thatbr'ilin' deck that I couldn't stand it, an' I leans over to Andy,an' I says: `Now look-a here; if you don't shut up talkin' aboutthem things what's stowed below, an' what we can't git at nohow,overboard you go!' `That would make you short-handed,' saysAndy, with a grin. `Which is more'n you could say,' says I, `ifyou'd chuck Tom an, me over'--alludin' to his eleven-inch grip.Andy didn't say no more then, but after a while he comes to me,as I was lookin' round to see if anything was in sight, an' sayshe, `I spose you ain't got nothin' to say ag'in' my divin' intothe hold just aft of the foremast, where there seems to be a bitof pretty clear water, an' see if I can't git up somethin'?'`You kin do it, if you like,' says I, `but it's at your own risk.You can't take out no insurance at this office.' `Allright, then,' says Andy; `an' if I git stove in by floatin'boxes, you an' Tom'll have to eat the rest of them saltcrackers.' `Now, boy,' says I,--an' he wasn't much more, bein'only nineteen year old,--`you'd better keep out o' that hold.You'll just git yourself smashed. An' as to movin' any of themthere heavy boxes, which must be swelled up as tight as if theywas part of the ship, you might as well try to pull out one ofthe Mary Auguster's ribs.' `I'll try it,' says Andy, `furto-morrer is Christmas, an' if I kin help it I ain't goin' to befloatin' atop of a Christmas dinner without eatin' any on it.' Ilet him go, fur he was a good swimmer an' diver, an' I did hopehe might root out somethin' or other, fur Christmas is about theworst day in the year fur men to be starvin' on, an' that's whatwe was a-comin' to."Well, fur about two hours Andy swum, an' dove, an' come upblubberin', an' dodged all sorts of floatin' an' pitchin' stuff,fur the swell was still on. But he couldn't even be so much assartin that he'd found the canned vittles. To dive down throughhatchways, an' among broken bulkheads, to hunt fur any partiklarkind o' boxes under seven foot of sea-water, ain't no easy job.An' though Andy said he got hold of the end of a box that felt tohim like the big uns he'd noticed as havin' the meat-pies in, hecouldn't move it no more'n if it had been the stump of theforemast. If we could have pumped the water out of the hold wecould have got at any part of the cargo we wanted, but as it was,we couldn't even reach the ship's stores, which, of course, musthave been mostly sp'iled anyway, whereas the canned vittles wasjust as good as new. The pumps was all smashed or stoppedup, for we tried 'em, but if they hadn't 'a' been we threecouldn't never have pumped out that ship on three biscuit a day,an' only about two days' rations at that."So Andy he come up, so fagged out that it was as much as hecould do to get his clothes on, though they wasn't much, an' thenhe stretched himself out under the canvas an' went to sleep, an'it wasn't long afore he was talkin' about roast turkey an'cranberry sass, an' punkin-pie, an' sech stuff, most of which weknowed was under our feet that present minnit. Tom Simmons hejust b'iled over, an' sung out: `Roll him out in the sun an' lethim cook! I can't stand no more of this!' But I wasn't goin' tohave Andy treated no sech way as that, fur if it hadn't been furTom Simmons' wife an' young uns, Andy'd been worth two of him toanybody who was consid'rin' savin' life. But I give the boy agood punch in the ribs to stop his dreamin', fur I was as hungryas Tom was, an' couldn't stand no nonsense about Christmasdinners."It was a little arter noon when Andy woke up, an' he wentoutside to stretch himself. In about a minute he give a yellthat made Tom an' me jump. `A sail!' he hollered. `A sail!' An'you may bet your life, young man, that 'twasn't more'n half asecond afore us two had scuffled out from under that canvas, an'was standin' by Andy. `There she is!' he shouted, `not a mile towin'ard.' I give one look, an' then I sings out: `'Tain't asail! It's a flag of distress! Can't you see, you land-lubber,that that's the Stars and Stripes upside down?' `Why, so it is,'says Andy, with a couple of reefs in the joyfulness of hisvoice. An' Tom he began to growl as if somebody had cheatedhim out of half a year's wages."The flag that we saw was on the hull of a steamer that hadbeen driftin' down on us while we was sittin' under our canvas.It was plain to see she'd been caught in the typhoon, too, furthere wasn't a mast or a smoke-stack on her. But her hull washigh enough out of the water to catch what wind there was, whilewe was so low sunk that we didn't make no way at all. There waspeople aboard, and they saw us, an' waved their hats an' arms,an' Andy an' me waved ours; but all we could do was to wait tillthey drifted nearer, fur we hadn't no boats to go to 'em if we'dwanted to."`I'd like to know what good that old hulk is to us,' saysTom Simmons. `She can't take us off.' It did look to mesomethin' like the blind leadin' the blind. But Andy he singsout: `We'd be better off aboard of her, fur she ain't water-logged, an', more'n that, I don't s'pose her stores are allsoaked up in salt water.' There was some sense in that, an' whenthe steamer had got to within half a mile of us, we was glad tosee a boat put out from her with three men in it. It was a queerboat, very low an' flat, an' not like any ship's boat I ever see.But the two fellers at the oars pulled stiddy, an' pretty soonthe boat was 'longside of us, an' the three men on our deck. Oneof 'em was the first mate of the other wreck, an' when he foundout what was the matter with us, he spun his yarn, which was alonger one than ours. His vessel was the Water Crescent,nine hundred tons, from 'Frisco to Melbourne, an' they had sailedabout six weeks afore we did. They was about two weeks outwhen some of their machinery broke down, an' when they got itpatched up it broke ag'in, worse than afore, so that theycouldn't do nothin' with it. They kep' along under sail forabout a month, makin' mighty poor headway till the typhoon struck'em, an' that cleaned their decks off about as slick as it didours, but their hatches wasn't blowed off, an' they didn't shipno water wuth mentionin', an' the crew havin' kep' below, none of'em was lost. But now they was clean out of provisions an'water, havin' been short when the breakdown happened, fur theyhad sold all the stores they could spare to a French brig indistress that they overhauled when about a week out. When theysighted us they felt pretty sure they'd git some provisions outof us. But when I told the mate what a fix we was in his jawdropped till his face was as long as one of Andy's hands.Howsomdever, he said he'd send the boat back fur as many men asit could bring over, an' see if they couldn't git up some of ourstores. Even if they was soaked with salt water, they'd bebetter than nothin'. Part of the cargo of the Water Crescentwas tools an, things fur some railway contractors out inAustralier, an' the mate told the men to bring over some of themirons that might be used to fish out the stores. All theirship's boats had been blowed away, an' the one they had was akind of shore boat for fresh water, that had been shipped as partof the cargo, an' stowed below. It couldn't stand no kind of asea, but there wasn't nothin' but a swell on, an' when it comeback it had the cap'n in it, an' five men, besides a lot ofchains an' tools."Them fellers an' us worked pretty nigh the rest of theday, an' we got out a couple of bar'ls of water, which was allright, havin' been tight bunged, an' a lot of sea-biscuit, allsoaked an sloppy, but we only got a half-bar'l of meat, thoughthree or four of the men stripped an' dove fur more'n an hour.We cut up some of the meat an' eat it raw, an' the cap'n sentsome over to the other wreck, which had drifted past us toleeward, an' would have gone clean away from us if the cap'nhadn't had a line got out an' made us fast to it while we was a-workin' at the stores."That night the cap'n took us three, as well as theprovisions we'd got out, on board his hull, where the'commodations was consid'able better than they was on the half-sunk Mary Auguster. An' afore we turned in he took me aftan' had a talk with me as commandin' off'cer of my vessel. `Thatwreck o' yourn,' says he, `has got a vallyble cargo in it, whichisn't sp'iled by bein' under water. Now, if you could get thatcargo into port it would put a lot of money in your pocket, furthe owners couldn't git out of payin' you fur takin' charge of itan' havin' it brung in. Now I'll tell you what I'll do. I'lllie by you, an' I've got carpenters aboard that'll put your pumpsin order, an' I'll set my men to work to pump out your vessel.An' then, when she's afloat all right, I'll go to work ag'in atmy vessel--which I didn't s'pose there was any use o' doin', butwhilst I was huntin' round amongst our cargo to-day I found thatsome of the machinery we carried might be worked up so's to takethe place of what is broke in our engine. We've got a forgeaboard, an' I believe we can make these pieces of machinery fit,an' git goin' ag'in. Then I'll tow you into Sydney, an' we'lldivide the salvage money. I won't git nothin' fur savin' myvessel, coz that's my business, but you wasn't cap'n o' yourn,an' took charge of her a-purpose to save her, which is anotherthing.' "I wasn't at all sure that I didn't take charge of theMary Auguster to save myself an' not the vessel, but I didn'tmention that, an' asked the cap'n how he expected to live allthis time."`Oh, we kin git at your stores easy enough,' says he, whenthe water's pumped out.' `They'll be mostly sp'iled,' says I.`That don't matter' says he. `Men'll eat anything when theycan't git nothin' else.' An' with that he left me to think itover."I must say, young man, an' you kin b'lieve me if you knowanything about sech things, that the idee of a pile of money wasmighty temptin' to a feller like me, who had a girl at home readyto marry him, and who would like nothin' better'n to have alittle house of his own, an' a little vessel of his own, an' giveup the other side of the world altogether. But while I was goin'over all this in my mind, an' wonderin' if the cap'n ever couldgit us into port, along comes Andy Boyle, an' sits down besideme. `It drives me pretty nigh crazy,' says he, `to think thatto-morrer's Christmas, an' we've got to feed on that sloppy stuffwe fished out of our stores, an' not much of it, nuther, whilethere's all that roast turkey an' plum-puddin' an' mince-pie a-floatin' out there just afore our eyes, an' we can't have none ofit.' `You hadn't oughter think so much about eatin', Andy,' saysI,`but if I was talkin' about them things I wouldn't leave outcanned peaches. By George! On a hot Christmas like this isgoin' to be, I'd be the jolliest Jack on the ocean if I could gitat that canned fruit.' `Well, there's a way,' says Andy,`that we might git some of 'em. A part of the cargo of this shipis stuff far blastin' rocks--ca'tridges, 'lectric bat'ries, an'that sort of thing; an' there's a man aboard who's goin' out totake charge of 'em. I've been talkin' to this bat'ry man, an'I've made up my mind it'll be easy enough to lower a littleca'tridge down among our cargo an' blow out a part of it.' `What'u'd be the good of it,' says I, `blowed into chips?' `It mightsmash some,' says he, `but others would be only loosened, an'they'd float up to the top, where we could git 'em, speciallythem as was packed with pies, which must be pretty light.' `Gitout, Andy,' says I, `with all that stuff!' An' he got out."But the idees he'd put into my head didn't git out, an' as Ilaid on my back on the deck, lookin' up at the stars, theysometimes seemed to put themselves into the shape of a littlehouse, with a little woman cookin' at the kitchin fire, an' alittle schooner layin' at anchor just off shore. An' then ag'inthey'd hump themselves up till they looked like a lot of new tincans with their tops off, an' all kinds of good things to eatinside, specially canned peaches--the big white kind, soft an'cool, each one split in half, with a holler in the middle filledwith juice. By George, sir! the very thought of a tin can likethat made me beat my heels ag'in the deck. I'd been mightyhungry, an' had eat a lot of salt pork, wet an' raw, an' now thevery idee of it, even cooked, turned my stomach. I looked up tothe stars ag'in, an' the little house an' the little schooner wasclean gone, an' the whole sky was filled with nothin' but brightnew tin cans."In the mornin' Andy he come to me ag'in. `Have you made upyour mind,' says he, `about gittin' some of them good thingsfur Christmas dinner?' `Confound you!' says I, `you talk as ifall we had to do was to go an' git 'em.' `An' that's what Ib'lieve we kin do,' says he, `with the help of that bat'ry man.'`Yes,' says I, `an' blow a lot of the cargo into flinders, an'damage the Mary Auguster so's she couldn't never be took intoport.' An' then I told him what the cap'n had said to me, an'what I was goin' to do with the money. `A little ca'tridge,'says Andy, `would do all we want, an' wouldn't hurt the vessel,nuther. Besides that, I don't b'lieve what this cap'n says abouttinkerin' up his engine. 'Tain't likely he'll ever git herrunnin' ag'in, nor pump out the Mary Auguster, nuther. If Iwas you I'd a durned sight ruther have a Christmas dinner in handthan a house an' wife in the bush.' `I ain't thinkin' o'marryin' a girl in Australier,' says I. An' Andy he grinned, an'said I wouldn't marry nobody if I had to live on sp'iled vittlestill I got her."A little arter that I went to the cap'n an' I told him aboutAndy's idee, but he was down on it. `It's your vessel, an' notmine,' says he, `an' if you want to try to git a dinner out ofher I'll not stand in your way. But it's my 'pinion you'll justdamage the ship, an' do nothin'.' Howsomdever, I talked to thebat'ry man about it, an' he thought it could be done, an' nothurt the ship, nuther. The men was all in favor of it, fur noneof 'em had forgot it was Christmas day. But Tom Simmons he wasag'in' it strong, fur he was thinkin' he'd git some of the moneyif we got the Mary Auguster into port. He was a selfish-minded man, was Tom, but it was his nater, an' I s'pose hecouldn't help it."Well, it wasn't long afore I began to feel pretty empty an'mean, an' if I'd wanted any of the prog we got out the day afore,I couldn't have found much, fur the men had eat it up nearly allin the night. An' so I just made up my mind without any morefoolin', an' me an' Andy Boyle an' the bat'ry man, with someca'tridges an' a coil of wire, got into the little shore boat,an' pulled over to the Mary Auguster. There we lowered asmall ca'tridge down the main hatchway, an' let it rest downamong the cargo. Then we rowed back to the steamer, uncoilin'the wire as. we went. The bat'ry man clumb up on deck, an' fixedhis wire to a 'lectric machine, which he'd got all ready afore westarted. Andy an' me didn't git out of the boat. We had toomuch sense fur that, with all them hungry fellers waitin' to jumpin her. But we just pushed a little off, an' sot waitin', withour mouths awaterin', fur him to touch her off. He seemed to bea long time about it, but at last he did it, an' that instantthere was a bang on board the Mary Auguster that made myheart jump. Andy an' me pulled fur her like mad, the others a-hollerin' arter us, an' we was on deck in no time. The deck wasall covered with the water that had been throwed up. But I tellyou, sir, that we poked an' fished about, an' Andy stripped an'went down an' swum all round, an' we couldn't find one floatin'box of canned goods. There was a lot of splinters, but wherethey come from we didn't know. By this time my dander was up,an' I just pitched around savage. That little ca'tridge wasn'tno good, an' I didn't intend to stand any more foolin'. We justrowed back to the other wreck, an' I called to the ba'try man tocome down, an' bring some bigger ca'tridges with him, fur ifwe was goin' to do anything we might as well do it right. So hegot down with a package of bigger ones, an' jumped into the boat.The cap'n he called out to us to be keerful, an' Tom Simmonsleaned over the rail an' swored; but I didn't pay no 'tention tonuther of 'em, an' we pulled away."When I got aboard the Mary Auguster, I says to thebat'ry man: `We don't want no nonsense this time, an' I want youto put in enough ca'tridges to heave up somethin' that'll do fura Christmas dinner. I don't know how the cargo is stored, butyou kin put one big ca'tridge 'midship, another for'ard, an'another aft, an' one or nuther of 'em oughter fetch upsomethin'.' Well, we got the three ca'tridges into place. Theywas a good deal bigger than the one we fust used, an' we j'ined'em all to one wire, an' then we rowed back, carryin' the longwire with us. When we reached the steamer, me an' Andy was a-goin' to stay in the boat as we did afore, but the cap'n sung outthat he wouldn't allow the bat'ry to be touched off till we comeaboard. `Ther's got to be fair play,' says he. `It's yourvittles, but it's my side that's doin' the work. After we'veblasted her this time you two can go in the boat an' see whatthere is to git hold of, but two of my men must go along.' So mean' Andy had to go on deck, an' two big fellers was detailed togo with us in the little boat when the time come, an' then thebat'ry man he teched her off."Well, sir, the pop that followed that tech was somethin' toremember. It shuck the water, it shuck the air, an' it shuck thehull we was on. A reg'lar cloud of smoke an' flyin' bits ofthings rose up out of the Mary Auguster; an' when that smokecleared away, an' the water was all b'ilin' with the splashof various-sized hunks that come rainin' down from the sky, whatwas left of the Mary Auguster was sprinkled over the sea likea wooden carpet fur water-birds to walk on."Some of the men sung out one thing, an' some another, an' Icould hear Tom Simmons swear; but Andy an' me said never a word,but scuttled down into the boat, follered close by the two menwho was to go with us. Then we rowed like devils fur the lot ofstuff that was bobbin' about on the water, out where the MaryAuguster had been. In we went among the floatin' spars andship's timbers, I keepin' the things off with an oar, the two menrowin', an' Andy in the bow."Suddenly Andy give a yell, an' then he reached himselffor'ard with sech a bounce that I thought he'd go overboard. Butup he come in a minnit, his two 'leven-inch hands gripped round abox. He sot down in the bottom of the boat with the box on hislap an' his eyes screwed on some letters that was stamped on oneend. `Pidjin-pies!' he sings out. "Tain't turkeys, nor 'tain'tcranberries but, by the Lord Harry, it's Christmas pies all thesame!' After that Andy didn't do no more work, but sot holdin'that box as if it had been his fust baby. But we kep' pushin' onto see what else there was. It's my 'pinion that the biggestpart of that bark's cargo was blowed into mince-meat, an' themost of the rest of it was so heavy that it sunk. But it wasn'tall busted up, an' it didn't all sink. There was a big piece ofwreck with a lot of boxes stove into the timbers, and some ofthese had in 'em beef ready b'iled an' packed into cans, an'there was other kinds of meat, an' dif'rent sorts ofvegetables, an' one box of turtle soup. I looked at every one of'em as we took 'em in, an' when we got the little boat prettywell loaded I wanted to still keep on searchin'; but the men theysaid that shore boat 'u'd sink if we took in any more cargo, an'so we put back, I feelin' glummer'n I oughter felt, fur I hadbegun to be afeared that canned fruit, sech as peaches, washeavy, an' li'ble to sink."As soon as we had got our boxes aboard, four fresh men putout in the boat, an' after a while they come back with anotherload. An' I was mighty keerful to read the names on all theboxes. Some was meat-pies, an' some was salmon, an' some waspotted herrin's, an' some was lobsters. But nary a thing could Isee that ever had growed on a tree."Well, sir, there was three loads brought in altogether, an'the Christmas dinner we had on the for'ard deck of that steamer'shull was about the jolliest one that was ever seen of a hot dayaboard of a wreck in the Pacific Ocean. The cap'n kept goodorder, an' when all was ready the tops was jerked off the boxes,and each man grabbed a can an' opened it with his knife. When hehad cleaned it out, he tuk another without doin' much questionin'as to the bill of fare. Whether anybody got pidjin-pie 'ceptAndy, I can't say, but the way we piled in Delmoniker prog would'a' made people open their eyes as was eatin' their Christmasdinners on shore that day. Some of the things would 'a' beenbetter cooked a little more, or het up, but we was too fearfulhungry to wait fur that, an' they was tiptop as they was."The cap'n went out afterwards, an' towed in a couple ofbar'ls of flour that was only part soaked through, an' he gotsome other plain prog that would do fur future use. But none ofus give our minds to stuff like this arter the glorious Christmasdinner that we'd quarried out of the Mary Auguster. Everyman that wasn't on duty went below and turned in fur a snooze--all 'cept me, an' I didn't feel just altogether satisfied. To besure, I'd had an A1 dinner, an', though a little mixed, I'd nevereat a jollier one on any Christmas that I kin look back at. But,fur all that, there was a hanker inside o' me. I hadn't got allI'd laid out to git when we teched off the Mary Auguster.The day was blazin' hot, an' a lot of the things I'd eat waspretty peppery. `Now,' thinks I, `if there had been just one cano' peaches sech as I seen shinin' in the stars last night!' An'just then, as I was walkin' aft, all by myself, I seed lodged onthe stump of the mizzenmast a box with one corner druv down amongthe splinters. It was half split open, an' I could see the tincans shinin' through the crack. I give one jump at it, an'wrenched the side off. On the top of the first can I seed was apicture of a big white peach with green leaves. That box hadbeen blowed up so high that if it had come down anywhere 'ceptamong them splinters it would 'a' smashed itself to flinders, orkilled somebody. So fur as I know, it was the only thing thatfell nigh us, an' by George, sir, I got it! When I had finisheda can of 'em I hunted up Andy, an' then we went aft an' eat somemore. `Well,' says Andy, as we was a-eatin', `how d'ye feel nowabout blowin' up your wife, an' your house, an' that littleschooner you was goin' to own?'"`Andy,' says I, `this is the joyfulest Christmas I'vehad yit, an' if I was to live till twenty hundred I don't b'lieveI'd have no joyfuler, with things comin' in so pat; so don't youthrow no shadders.'"`Shadders!' says Andy. `That ain't me. I leave that sortof thing fur Tom Simmons.'"`Shadders is cool,' says I, `an' I kin go to sleep under allhe throws.'"Well, sir," continued old Silas, putting his hand on thetiller and turning his face seaward, "if Tom Simmons had keptcommand of that wreck, we all would 'a' laid there an' waited an'waited till some of us was starved, an' the others got nothin'fur it, fur the cap'n never mended his engine, an' it wasn'tmore'n a week afore we was took off, an' then it was by a sailin'vessel, which left the hull of the Water Crescent behind her,just as she would 'a' had to leave the Mary Auguster if thatjolly old Christmas wreck had been there."An' now, sir," said Silas, "d'ye see that stretch o' littleripples over yander, lookin' as if it was a lot o' herrin'turnin' over to dry their sides? Do you know what that is?That's the supper wind. That means coffee, an' hot cakes, an' abit of br'iled fish, an' pertaters, an' p'r'aps, if the old womanfeels in a partiklar good humor, some canned peaches--big whiteuns, cut in half, with a holler place in the middle filled withcool, sweet juice."