The Sea-Farmer

by Jack London

"That wull be the doctor's launch," said Captain MacElrath.The pilot grunted, while the skipper swept on with his glass fromthe launch to the strip of beach and to Kingston beyond, and thenslowly across the entrance to Howth Head on the northern side."The tide's right, and we'll have you docked in two hours," thepilot vouchsafed, with an effort at cheeriness. "Ring's End Basin,is it?"This time the skipper grunted."A dirty Dublin day."Again the skipper grunted. He was weary with the night of wind inthe Irish Channel behind him, the unbroken hours of which he hadspent on the bridge. And he was weary with all the voyage behindhim - two years and four months between home port and home port,eight hundred and fifty days by his log."Proper wunter weather," he answered, after a silence. "The townis undistinct. Ut wull be rainun' guid an' hearty for the day."Captain MacElrath was a small man, just comfortably able to peepover the canvas dodger of the bridge. The pilot and third officerloomed above him, as did the man at the wheel, a bulky German,deserted from a warship, whom he had signed on in Rangoon. But hislack of inches made Captain MacElrath a no less able man. At leastso the Company reckoned, and so would he have reckoned could hehave had access to the carefully and minutely compiled record ofhim filed away in the office archives. But the Company had nevergiven him a hint of its faith in him. It was not the way of theCompany, for the Company went on the principle of never allowing anemployee to think himself indispensable or even exceedingly useful;wherefore, while quick to censure, it never praised. What wasCaptain MacElrath, anyway, save a skipper, one skipper of theeighty-odd skippers that commanded the Company's eighty-oddfreighters on all the highways and byways of the sea?Beneath them, on the main deck, two Chinese stokers were carryingbreakfast for'ard across the rusty iron plates that told their owngrim story of weight and wash of sea. A sailor was taking down thelife-line that stretched from the forecastle, past the hatches andcargo-winches, to the bridge-deck ladder."A rough voyage," suggested the pilot."Aye, she was fair smokin' ot times, but not thot I minded thot somuch as the lossin' of time. I hate like onythun' tull loss time."So saying, Captain MacElrath turned and glanced aft, aloft andalow, and the pilot, following his gaze, saw the mute butconvincing explanation of that loss of time. The smoke-stack,buff-coloured underneath, was white with salt, while the whistle-pipe glittered crystalline in the random sunlight that broke forthe instant through a cloud-rift. The port lifeboat was missing,its iron davits, twisted and wrenched, testifying to the mightinessof the blow that had been struck the old Tryapsic. The starboarddavits were also empty. The shattered wreck of the lifeboat theyhad held lay on the fiddley beside the smashed engine-roomskylight, which was covered by a tarpaulin. Below, to star-board,on the bridge deck, the pilot saw the crushed mess-room door,roughly bulkheaded against the pounding seas. Abreast of it, onthe smokestack guys, and being taken down by the bos'n and asailor, hung the huge square of rope netting which had failed tobreak those seas of their force."Twice afore I mentioned thot door tull the owners," said CaptainMacElrath. "But they said ut would do. There was bug seas thottime. They was uncreditable bug. And thot buggest one dud thedomage. Ut fair carried away the door an' laid ut flat on the messtable an' smashed out the chief's room. He was a but sore aboutut.""It must 'a' been a big un," the pilot remarked sympathetically."Aye, ut was thot. Thungs was lively for a but. Ut finished themate. He was on the brudge wuth me, an' I told hum tull take alook tull the wedges o' number one hatch. She was takin' watterfreely an' I was no sure o' number one. I dudna like the look o'ut, an' I was fuggerin' maybe tull heave to tull the marn, when shetook ut over abaft the brudge. My word, she was a bug one. We gota but of ut ourselves on the brudge. I dudna miss the mate ot thefirst, what o' routin' out Chips an' bulkheadun' thot door an'stretchun' the tarpaulin over the sky-light. Then he was nowhereto be found. The men ot the wheel said as he seen hum goin' downthe lodder just afore she hut us. We looked for'ard, we lookedtull hus room, aye looked tull the engine-room, an' we looked alongaft on the lower deck, and there he was, on both sides the cover tothe steam-pipe runnun' tull the after-wunches."The pilot ejaculated an oath of amazement and horror."Aye," the skipper went on wearily, "an' on both sides the steam-pipe uz well. I tell ye he was in two pieces, splut clean uz aherrin'. The sea must a-caught hum on the upper brudge deck,carried hum clean across the fiddley, an' banged hum head-on tullthe pipe cover. It sheered through hum like so much butter, downatween the eyes, an' along the middle of hum, so that one leg an'arm was fast tull the one piece of hum, an' one leg an' arm fasttull the other piece of hum. I tull ye ut was fair grewsome. Weputt hum together an' rolled hum in canvas uz we pulled hum out."The pilot swore again."Oh, ut wasna onythun' tull greet about," Captain MacElrath assuredhim. "'Twas a guid ruddance. He was no a sailor, thot mate-fellow. He was only fut for a pugsty, an' a dom puir apology forthot same."It is said that there are three kinds of Irish - Catholic,Protestant, and North-of-Ireland - and that the North-of-IrelandIrishman is a transplanted Scotchman. Captain MacElrath was aNorth-of-Ireland man, and, talking for much of the world like aScotchman, nothing aroused his ire quicker than being mistaken fora Scotchman. Irish he stoutly was, and Irish he stoutly abided,though it was with a faint lip-lift of scorn that he mentioned mereSouth-of-Ireland men, or even Orange-men. Himself he wasPresbyterian, while in his own community five men were all thatever mustered at a meeting in the Orange Men's Hall. His communitywas the Island McGill, where seven thousand of his kind lived insuch amity and sobriety that in the whole island there was but onepoliceman and never a public-house at all.Captain MacElrath did not like the sea, and had never liked it. Hewrung his livelihood from it, and that was all the sea was, theplace where he worked, as the mill, the shop, and the counting-house were the places where other men worked. Romance never sangto him her siren song, and Adventure had never shouted in hissluggish blood. He lacked imagination. The wonders of the deepwere without significance to him. Tornadoes, hurricanes,waterspouts, and tidal waves were so many obstacles to the way of aship on the sea and of a master on the bridge - they were that tohim, and nothing more. He had seen, and yet not seen, the manymarvels and wonders of far lands. Under his eyelids burned thebrazen glories of the tropic seas, or ached the bitter gales of theNorth Atlantic or far South Pacific; but his memory of them was ofmess-room doors stove in, of decks awash and hatches threatened, ofundue coal consumption, of long passages, and of fresh paint-workspoiled by unexpected squalls of rain."I know my buzz'ness," was the way he often put it, and beyond hisbusiness was all that he did not know, all that he had seen withthe mortal eyes of him and yet that he never dreamed existed. Thathe knew his business his owners were convinced, or at forty hewould not have held command of the Tryapsic, three thousand tonsnet register, with a cargo capacity of nine thousand tons andvalued at fifty-thousand pounds.He had taken up seafaring through no love of it, but because it hadbeen his destiny, because he had been the second son of his fatherinstead of the first. Island McGill was only so large, and theland could support but a certain definite proportion of those thatdwelt upon it. The balance, and a large balance it was, was drivento the sea to seek its bread. It had been so for generations. Theeldest sons took the farms from their fathers; to the other sonsremained the sea and its salt-ploughing. So it was that DonaldMacElrath, farmer's son and farm-boy himself, had shifted from thesoil he loved to the sea he hated and which it was his destiny tofarm. And farmed it he had, for twenty years, shrewd, cool-headed,sober, industrious, and thrifty, rising from ship's boy andforecastle hand to mate and master of sailing-ships and thence intosteam, second officer, first, and master, from small command tolarger, and at last to the bridge of the old Tryapsic - old, to besure, but worth her fifty thousand pounds and still able to bear upin all seas, and weather her nine thousand tons of freight.From the bridge of the Tryapsic, the high place he had gained inthe competition of men, he stared at Dublin harbour opening out, atthe town obscured by the dark sky of the dreary wind-driven day,and at the tangled tracery of spars and rigging of the harbourshipping. Back from twice around the world he was, and frominterminable junketings up and down on far stretches, home-comingto the wife he had not seen in eight-and-twenty months, and to thechild he had never seen and that was already walking and talking.He saw the watch below of stokers and trimmers bobbing out of theforecastle doors like rabbits from a warren and making their wayaft over the rusty deck to the mustering of the port doctor. Theywere Chinese, with expressionless, Sphinx-like faces, and theywalked in peculiar shambling fashion, dragging their feet as if theclumsy brogans were too heavy for their lean shanks.He saw them and he did not see them, as he passed his hand beneathhis visored cap and scratched reflectively his mop of sandy hair.For the scene before him was but the background in his brain forthe vision of peace that was his - a vision that was his oftenduring long nights on the bridge when the old Tryapsic wallowed onthe vexed ocean floor, her decks awash, her rigging thrumming inthe gale gusts or snow squalls or driving tropic rain. And thevision he saw was of farm and farm-house and straw-thatchedoutbuildings, of children playing in the sun, and the good wife atthe door, of lowing kine, and clucking fowls, and the stamp ofhorses in the stable, of his father's farm next to him, with,beyond, the woodless, rolling land and the hedged fields, neat andorderly, extending to the crest of the smooth, soft hills. It washis vision and his dream, his Romance and Adventure, the goal ofall his effort, the high reward for the salt-ploughing and thelong, long furrows he ran up and down the whole world around in hisfarming of the sea.In simple taste and homely inclination this much-travelled map wasmore simple and homely than the veriest yokel. Seventy-one yearshis father was, and had never slept a night out of his own bed inhis own house on Island McGill. That was the life ideal, soCaptain MacElrath considered, and he was prone to marvel that anyman, not under compulsion, should leave a farm to go to sea. Tothis much-travelled man the whole world was as familiar as thevillage to the cobbler sitting in his shop. To Captain MacElraththe world was a village. In his mind's eye he saw its streets athousand leagues long, aye, and longer; turnings that doubledearth's stormiest headlands or were the way to quiet inland ponds;cross-roads, taken one way, that led to flower-lands and summerseas, and that led the other way to bitter, ceaseless gales and theperilous bergs of the great west wind drift. And the cities,bright with lights, were as shops on these long streets - shopswhere business was transacted, where bunkers were replenished,cargoes taken or shifted, and orders received from the owners inLondon town to go elsewhere and beyond, ever along the long sea-lanes, seeking new cargoes here, carrying new cargoes there,running freights wherever shillings and pence beckoned andunderwriters did not forbid. But it was all a weariness tocontemplate, and, save that he wrung from it his bread, it waswithout profit under the sun.The last good-bye to the wife had been at Cardiff, twenty-eightmonths before, when he sailed for Valparaiso with coals - ninethousand tons and down to his marks. From Valparaiso he had goneto Australia, light, a matter of six thousand miles on end with astormy passage and running short of bunker coal. Coals again toOregon, seven thousand miles, and nigh as many more with generalcargo for Japan and China. Thence to Java, loading sugar forMarseilles, and back along the Mediterranean to the Black Sea, andon to Baltimore, down to her marks with crome ore, buffeted byhurricanes, short again of bunker coal and calling at Bermuda toreplenish. Then a time charter, Norfolk, Virginia, loadingmysterious contraband coal and sailing for South Africa underorders of the mysterious German supercargo put on board by thecharterers. On to Madagascar, steaming four knots by thesupercargo's orders, and the suspicion forming that the Russianfleet might want the coal. Confusion and delays, long waits atsea, international complications, the whole world excited over theold Tryapsic and her cargo of contraband, and then on to Japan andthe naval port of Sassebo. Back to Australia, another time charterand general merchandise picked up at Sydney, Melbourne, andAdelaide, and carried on to Mauritius, Lourenco Marques, Durban,Algoa Bay, and Cape Town. To Ceylon for orders, and from Ceylon toRangoon to load rice for Rio Janeiro. Thence to Buenos Aires andloading maize for the United Kingdom or the Continent, stopping atSt. Vincent, to receive orders to proceed to Dublin. Two years andfour months, eight hundred and fifty days by the log, steaming upand down the thousand-league-long sea-lanes and back again toDublin town. And he was well aweary.A little tug had laid hold of the Tryapsic, and with clang andclatter and shouted command, with engines half-ahead, slow-speed,or half-astern, the battered old sea-tramp was nudged and nosed andshouldered through the dock-gates into Ring's End Basin. Lineswere flung ashore, fore and aft, and a 'midship spring got out.Already a small group of the happy shore-staying folk had clusteredon the dock."Ring off," Captain MacElrath commanded in his slow thick voice;and the third officer worked the lever of the engine-roomtelegraph."Gangway out!" called the second officer; and when this wasaccomplished, "That will do."It was the last task of all, gangway out. "That will do" was thedismissal. The voyage was ended, and the crew shambled eagerlyforward across the rusty decks to where their sea-bags were packedand ready for the shore. The taste of the land was strong in themen's mouths, and strong it was in the skipper's mouth as hemuttered a gruff good day to the departing pilot, and himself wentdown to his cabin. Up the gangway were trooping the customsofficers, the surveyor, the agent's clerk, and the stevedores.Quick work disposed of these and cleared his cabin, the agentwaiting to take him to the office."Dud ye send word tull the wife?" had been his greeting to theclerk."Yes, a telegram, as soon as you were reported.""She'll likely be comin' down on the marnin' train," the skipperhad soliloquized, and gone inside to change his clothes and wash.He took a last glance about the room and at two photographs on thewall, one of the wife the other of an infant - the child he hadnever seen. He stepped out into the cabin, with its panelled wallsof cedar and maple, and with its long table that seated ten, and atwhich he had eaten by himself through all the weary time. Nolaughter and clatter and wordy argument of the mess-room had beenhis. He had eaten silently, almost morosely, his silence emulatedby the noiseless Asiatic who had served him. It came to himsuddenly, the overwhelming realization of the loneliness of thosetwo years and more. All his vexations and anxieties had been hisown. He had shared them with no one. His two young officers weretoo young and flighty, the mate too stupid. There was noconsulting with them. One tenant had shared the cabin with him,that tenant his responsibility. They had dined and suppedtogether, walked the bridge together, and together they had bedded."Och!" he muttered to that grim companion, "I'm quit of you, an'wull quit . . . for a wee."Ashore he passed the last of the seamen with their bags, and, atthe agent's, with the usual delays, put through his ship business.When asked out by them to drink he took milk and soda."I am no teetotaler," he explained; "but for the life o' me I cannabide beer or whusky."In the early afternoon, when he finished paying off his crew, hehurried to the private office where he had been told his wife waswaiting.His eyes were for her first, though the temptation was great tohave more than a hurried glimpse of the child in the chair besideher. He held her off from him after the long embrace, and lookedinto her face long and steadily, drinking in every feature of itand wondering that he could mark no changes of time. A warm man,his wife thought him, though had the opinion of his officers beenasked it would have been: a harsh man and a bitter one."Wull, Annie, how is ut wi' ye?" he queried, and drew her to himagain.And again he held her away from him, this wife of ten years and ofwhom he knew so little. She was almost a stranger - more astranger than his Chinese steward, and certainly far more astranger than his own officers whom he had seen every day, day andday, for eight hundred and fifty days. Married ten years, and inthat time he had been with her nine weeks - scarcely a honeymoon.Each time home had been a getting acquainted again with her. Itwas the fate of the men who went out to the salt-ploughing. Littlethey knew of their wives and less of their children. There was hischief engineer - old, near-sighted MacPherson - who told the storyof returning home to be locked out of his house by his four-yearkiddie that never had laid eyes on him before."An' thus 'ull be the loddie," the skipper said, reaching out ahesitant hand to the child's cheek.But the boy drew away from him, sheltering against the mother'sside."Och!" she cried, "and he doesna know his own father.""Nor I hum. Heaven knows I could no a-picked hum out of a crowd,though he'll be havin' your nose I'm thunkun'.""An' your own eyes, Donald. Look ut them. He's your own father,laddie. Kiss hum like the little mon ye are."But the child drew closer to her, his expression of fear anddistrust growing stronger, and when the father attempted to takehim in his arms he threatened to cry.The skipper straightened up, and to conceal the pang at his hearthe drew out his watch and looked at it."Ut's time to go, Annie," he said. "Thot train 'ull be startun'."He was silent on the train at first, divided between watching thewife with the child going to sleep in her arms and looking out ofthe window at the tilled fields and green unforested hills vagueand indistinct in the driving drizzle that had set in. They hadthe compartment to themselves. When the boy slept she laid him outon the seat and wrapped him warmly. And when the health ofrelatives and friends had been inquired after, and the gossip ofIsland McGill narrated, along with the weather and the price ofland and crops, there was little left to talk about savethemselves, and Captain MacElrath took up the tale brought home forthe good wife from all his world's-end wandering. But it was not atale of marvels he told, nor of beautiful flower-lands normysterious Eastern cities."What like is Java?" she asked once."Full o' fever. Half the crew down wuth ut an' luttle work. Utwas quinine an' quinine the whole blessed time. Each marnun' 'twasquinine an' gin for all hands on an empty stomach. An' they whowas no sick made ut out to be hovun' ut bad uz the rest."Another time she asked about Newcastle."Coals an' coal-dust - thot's all. No a nice sutty. I lost twoChinks there, stokers the both of them. An' the owners paid a finetull the Government of a hundred pounds each for them. 'We regrettull note,' they wrut me - I got the letter tull Oregon - 'Weregret tull note the loss o' two Chinese members o' yer crew otNewcastle, an' we recommend greater carefulness un the future.'Greater carefulness! And I could no a-been more careful. TheChinks hod forty-five pounds each comun' tull them in wages, an' Iwas no a-thunkun' they 'ud run."But thot's their way - 'we regret tull note,' 'we beg tulladvise,' 'we recommend,' 'we canna understand' - an' the like o'thot. Domned cargo tank! An' they would thunk I could drive herlike a Lucania, an' wi'out burnun' coals. There was thotpropeller. I was after them a guid while for ut. The old one wasiron, thuck on the edges, an' we couldna make our speed. An' thenew one was bronze - nine hundred pounds ut cost, an' then wantun'their returns out o' ut, an' me wuth a bod passage an' lossin' timeevery day. 'We regret tull note your long passage from Voloparaisotull Sydney wuth an average daily run o' only one hundred an'suxty-seven. We hod expected better results wuth the newpropeller. You should a-made an average daily run o' two hundredand suxteen.'"An' me on a wunter passage, blowin' a luvin' gale half the time,wuth hurricane force in atweenwhiles, an' hove to sux days, wuthengines stopped an' bunker coal runnun' short, an' me wuth a matethot stupid he could no pass a shup's light ot night wi'out callun'me tull the brudge. I wrut an' told 'em so. An' then: 'Ournautical adviser suggests you kept too far south,' an' 'We arelookun' for better results from thot propeller.' Nautical adviser!- shore pilot! Ut was the regular latitude for a wunter passagefrom Voloparaiso tull Sydney."An' when I come un tull Auckland short o' coal, after lettun' herdruft sux days wuth the fires out tull save the coal, an' wuth onlytwenty tons in my bunkers, I was thunkun' o' the lossin' o' timean' the expense, an' tull save the owners I took her un an' outwi'out pilotage. Pilotage was no compulsory. An' un Yokohama, whoshould I meet but Captun Robinson o' the Dyapsic. We got a-talkun'about ports an' places down Australia-way, an' first thing he says:'Speakun' o' Auckland - of course, Captun, you was never unAuckland?' 'Yus,' I says, 'I was un there very recent.' 'Oh, ho,'he says, very angry-like, 'so you was the smart Aleck thot fetchedme thot letter from the owners: "We note item of fufteen poundsfor pilotage ot Auckland. A shup o' ours was un tull Aucklandrecently an' uncurred no such charge. We beg tull advise you thotwe conseeder thus pilotage an onnecessary expense which should nobe uncurred un the future.'""But dud they say a word tull me for the fufteen pounds I savedtull them? No a word. They send a letter tull Captun Robinson forno savun' them the fufteen pounds, an' tull me: 'We note item oftwo guineas doctor's fee at Auckland for crew. Please explain thusonusual expunditure.' Ut was two o' the Chinks. I was thunkun'they hod beri-beri, an' thot was the why o' sendun' for the doctor.I buried the two of them ot sea not a week after. But ut was:'Please explain thus onusual expunditure,' an' tull CaptunRobinson, 'We beg tull advise you thot we conseeder thus pilotagean onnecessary expense.'"Dudna I cable them from Newcastle, tellun' them the old tank wasthot foul she needed dry-dock? Seven months out o' drydock, an'the West Coast the quickest place for foulun' un the world. Butfreights was up, an' they hod a charter o' coals for Portland. TheArrata, one o' the Woor Line, left port the same day uz us, boundfor Portland, an' the old Tryapsic makun' sux knots, seven ot thebest. An' ut was ot Comox, takun' un bunker coal, I got the letterfrom the owners. The boss humself hod signed ut, an' ot the bottomhe wrut un hus own bond: 'The Arrata beat you by four an' a halfdays. Am dusappointed.' Dusappointed! When I had cabled themfrom Newcastle. When she drydocked ot Portland, there was whuskerson her a foot long, barnacles the size o' me fust, oysters likeyoung sauce plates. Ut took them two days afterward tull clean thedock o' shells an' muck."An' there was the motter o' them fire-bars ot Newcastle. The firmashore made them heavier than the engineer's speecifications, an'then forgot tull charge for the dufference. Ot the last moment,wuth me ashore gettun' me clearance, they come wuth the bill:'Tull error on fire-bars, sux pounds.' They'd been tull the shupan' MacPherson hod O.K.'d ut. I said ut was strange an' would nopay. 'Then you are dootun' the chief engineer,' says they. 'I'mno dootun',' says I, 'but I canna see my way tull sign. Come wuthme tull the shup. The launch wull cost ye naught an' ut 'ull brungye back. An' we wull see what MacPherson says.'"But they would no come. Ot Portland I got the bill un a letter.I took no notice. Ot Hong-Kong I got a letter from the owners.The bill hod been sent tull them. I wrut them from Javaexplainun'. At Marseilles the owners wrut me: 'Tull extra work unengine-room, sux pounds. The engineer has O.K.'d ut, an' you haveno O.K.'d ut. Are you dootun' the engineer's honesty?' I wrut an'told them I was no dootun' his honesty; thot the bill was for extraweight o' fire-bars; an' thot ut was O.K. Dud they pay ut? Theyno dud. They must unvestigate. An' some clerk un the office tooksick, an' the bill was lost. An' there was more letters. I gotletters from the owners an' the firm -'Tull error on fire-bars, suxpounds' - ot Baltimore, ot Delagoa Bay, ot Moji, ot Rangoon, otRio, an' ot Montevuddio. Ut uz no settled yut. I tell ye, Annie,the owners are hard tull please."He communed with himself for a moment, and then mutteredindignantly: "Tull error on fire-bars, sux pounds.""Hov ye heard of Jamie?" his wife asked in the pause.Captain MacElrath shook his head."He was washed off the poop wuth three seamen.""Whereabouts?""Off the Horn. 'Twas on the Thornsby.""They would be runnun' homeward bound?""Aye," she nodded. "We only got the word three days gone. Hiswife is greetin' like tull die.""A good lod, Jamie," he commented, "but a stiff one ot carryun' on.I mind me when we was mates together un the Abion. An' so Jamie'sgone."Again a pause fell, to be broken by the wife."An' ye will no a-heard o' the Bankshire? MacDougall lost her inMagellan Straits. 'Twas only yesterday ut was in the paper.""A cruel place, them Magellan Straits," he said. "Dudna thotdomned mate-fellow nigh putt me ashore twice on the one passagethrough? He was a eediot, a lunatuc. I wouldna have hum on thebrudge a munut. Comun' tull Narrow Reach, thuck weather, wuth snowsqualls, me un the chart-room, dudna I guv hum the changed course?'South-east-by-east,' I told hum. 'South-east-by-east, sir,' sayshe. Fufteen munuts after I comes on tull the brudge. 'Funny,'says thot mate-fellow, 'I'm no rememberun' ony islands un the moutho' Narrow Reach. I took one look ot the islands an' yells, 'Puttyour wheel hard a-starboard,' tull the mon ot the wheel. An' yeshould a-seen the old Tryapsic turnun' the sharpest circle she everturned. I waited for the snow tull clear, an' there was NarrowReach, nice uz ye please, tull the east'ard an' the islands un themouth o' False Bay tull the south'ard. 'What course was yesteerun'?' I says tull the mon ot the wheel. 'South-by-east, sir,'says he. I looked tull the mate-fellow. What could I say? I wasthot wroth I could a-kult hum. Four points dufference. Fivemunuts more an' the old Tryapsic would a-been funushed."An' was ut no the same when we cleared the Straits tull theeast'ard? Four hours would a-seen us guid an' clear. I was fortyhours then on the brudge. I guv the mate his course, an' thebearun' o' the Askthar Light astern. 'Don't let her bear more tullthe north'ard than west-by-north,' I said tull hum, 'an' ye wull beall right.' An' I went below an' turned un. But I couldna sleepfor worryun'. After forty hours on the brudge, what was four hoursmore? I thought. An' for them four hours wull ye be lettun' themate loss her on ye? 'No,' I says to myself. An' wuth thot I gotup, hod a wash an' a cup o' coffee, an' went tull the brudge. Itook one look ot the bearun' o' Askthar Light. 'Twas nor'west-by-west, and the old Tryapsic down on the shoals. He was a eediot,thot mate-fellow. Ye could look overside an' see the duscolorationof the watter. 'Twas a close call for the old Tryapsic I'm tellun'ye. Twice un thirty hours he'd a-hod her ashore uf ut hod no beenfor me."Captain MacElrath fell to gazing at the sleeping child with mildwonder in his small blue eyes, and his wife sought to divert himfrom his woes."Ye remember Jummy MacCaul?" she asked. "Ye went tull school wuthhus two boys. Old Jummy MacCaul thot hoz the farm beyond DoctorHaythorn's place.""Oh, aye, an' what o' hum? Uz he dead?""No, but he was after askun' your father, when he sailed last timefor Voloparaiso, uf ye'd been there afore. An' when your fathersays no, then Jummy says, 'An' how wull he be knowun a' tull findhus way?' An' with thot your father says: 'Verry sumple ut uz,Jummy. Supposun' you was goin' tull the mainland tull a mon wholuved un Belfast. Belfast uz a bug sutty, Jummy, an' how would yebe findun' your way?' 'By way o' me tongue,' says Jummy; 'I'd beaskun' the folk I met.' 'I told ye ut was sumple,' says yourfather. 'Ut's the very same way my Donald finds the road tullVoloparaiso. He asks every shup he meets upon the sea tull ot lasthe meets wuth a shup thot's been tull Voloparaiso, an' the captuno' thot shup tells hum the way.' An' Jummy scratches hus head an'says he understands an' thot ut's a very sumple motter after all."The skipper chuckled at the joke, and his tired blue eyes weremerry for the moment."He was a thun chap, thot mate-fellow, oz thun oz you an' me putttogether," he remarked after a time, a slight twinkle in his eye ofappreciation of the bull. But the twinkle quickly disappeared andthe blue eyes took on a bleak and wintry look. "What dud he do otVoloparaiso but land sux hundred fathom o' chain cable an' takenever a receipt from the lighter-mon. I was gettun' my clearanceot the time. When we got tull sea, I found he hod no receipt forthe cable."'An' ye no took a receipt for ut?' says I."'No,' says he. 'Wasna ut goin' direct tull the agents?'"'How long ha' ye been goin' tull sea,' says I, 'not tull beknowin' the mate's duty uz tull deluver no cargo wuthout receiptfor same? An' on the West Coast ot thot. What's tull stop thelighter-mon from stealun' a few lengths o' ut?'"An' ut come out uz I said. Sux hundred hundred went over theside, but four hundred an' ninety-five was all the agents received.The lighter-mon swore ut was all he received from the mate - fourhundred an' ninety-five fathom. I got a letter from the owners otPortland. They no blamed the mate for ut, but me, an' me ashore otthe time on shup's buzz'ness. I could no be in the two places otthe one time. An' the letters from the owners an' the agents uzstill comun' tull me."Thot mate-fellow was no a proper sailor, an' no a mon tull workfor owners. Dudna he want tull break me wuth the Board of Tradefor bein' below my marks? He said as much tull the bos'n. An' hetold me tull my face homeward bound thot I'd been half an inchunder my marks. 'Twas at Portland, loadun' cargo un fresh watteran' goin' tull Comox tull load bunker coal un salt watter. I tellye, Annie, ut takes close fuggerin', an' I WAS half an inch underthe load-line when the bunker coal was un. But I'm no tellun' anyother body but you. An' thot mate-fellow untendun' tull report metull the Board o' Trade, only for thot he saw fut tull be sliced untwo pieces on the steam-pipe cover."He was a fool. After loadun' ot Portland I hod tull take on suxtytons o' coal tull last me tull Comox. The charges for lighterun'was heavy, an' no room ot the coal dock. A French barque was lyin'alongside the dock an' I spoke tull the captun, askun' hum what hewould charge when work for the day was done, tull haul clear for acouple o' hours an' let me un. 'Twenty dollars,' said he. Ut wassavun' money on lighters tull the owner, an' I gave ut tull hum.An' thot night, after dark, I hauled un an' took on the coal. ThenI started tull go out un the stream an' drop anchor - under me ownsteam, of course."We hod tull go out stern first, an' somethun' went wrong wuth thereversun' gear. Old MacPherson said he could work ut by hond, butvery slow ot thot. An' I said 'All right.' We started. The pilotwas on board. The tide was ebbun' stuffly, an' right abreast an' abut below was a shup lyin' wuth a lighter on each side. I saw theshup's ridun' lights, but never a light on the lighters. Ut wasclose quarters to shuft a bug vessel onder steam, wuth MacPhersonworkun' the reversun' gear by hond. We hod to come close down uponthe shup afore I could go ahead an' clear o' the shups on the dock-ends. An' we struck the lighter stern-on, just uz I rung tullMacPherson half ahead."'What was thot?' says the pilot, when we struck the lighter."'I dunna know,' says I, 'an' I'm wonderun'.'"The pilot was no keen, ye see, tull hus job. I went on tull aguid place an' dropped anchor, an' ut would all a-been well but forthot domned eediot mate."'We smashed thot lighter,' says he, comun' up the lodder tull thebrudge - an' the pilot stondun' there wuth his ears cocked tullhear."'What lighter?' says I."'Thot lighter alongside the shup,' says the mate."'I dudna see no lighter,' says I, and wuth thot I steps on hus futguid an' hard."After the pilot was gone I says tull the mate: 'Uf you dunna knowonythun', old mon, for Heaven's sake keep your mouth shut.'"'But ye dud smash thot lighter, dudn't ye?' says he."'Uf we dud,' says I, 'ut's no your buzz'ness tull be tellun' thepilot - though, mind ye, I'm no admuttun' there was ony lighter.'"An' next marnun', just uz I'm after dressun', the steward says, 'Amon tull see ye, sir.' 'Fetch hum un,' says I. An' un he come.'Sut down,' says I. An' he sot down."He was the owner of the lighter, an' when he hod told hus story, Isays, 'I dudna see ony lighter.'"'What, mon?' says he. 'No see a two-hundred-ton lighter, bug oz ahouse, alongside thot shup?'"'I was goin' by the shup's lights,' says I, 'an' I dudna touch theshup, thot I know.'"'But ye dud touch the lighter,' says he. 'Ye smashed her.There's a thousand dollars' domage done, an' I'll see ye pay forut.''Look here, muster,' says I, 'when I'm shuftun' a shup ot night Ifollow the law, an' the law dustunctly says I must regulate meactions by the lights o' the shuppun'. Your lighter never hod noridun' light, nor dud I look for ony lighter wuthout lights tullshow ut.'"'The mate says - ' he beguns."'Domn the mate,' says I. 'Dud your lighter hov a ridun' light?'"'No, ut dud not,' says he, 'but ut was a clear night wuth the moona-showun'.'"'Ye seem tull know your buzz'ness,' says I. 'But let me tell yethot I know my buzz'ness uz well, an' thot I'm no a-lookun' forlighters wuthout lights. Uf ye thunk ye hov a case, go ahead. Thesteward will show ye out. Guid day.'"An' thot was the end o' ut. But ut wull show ye what a puirfellow thot mate was. I call ut a blessun' for all masters thot hewas sliced un two on thot steam-pipe cover. He had a pull un theoffice an' thot was the why he was kept on.""The Wekley farm wull soon be for sale, so the agents be tellun'me," his wife remarked, slyly watching what effect her announcementwould have upon him.His eyes flashed eagerly on the instant, and he straightened up asmight a man about to engage in some agreeable task. It was thefarm of his vision, adjoining his father's, and her own peoplefarmed not a mile away."We wull be buyun' ut," he said, "though we wull be no tellun' asoul of ut ontul ut's bought an' the money paid down. I've savun'consuderable these days, though pickun's uz no what they used tobe, an' we hov a tidy nest-egg laid by. I wull see the father an'hove the money ready tull hus hond, so uf I'm ot sea he can buywhenever the land offers."He rubbed the frosted moisture from the inside of the window andpeered out at the pouring rain, through which he could discernnothing."When I was a young men I used tull be afeard thot the owners wouldguv me the sack. Stull afeard I am of the sack. But once thotfarm is mine I wull no be afeard ony longer. Ut's a puir job thussea-farmun'. Me managin' un all seas an' weather an' perils o' thedeep a shup worth fufty thousand pounds, wuth cargoes ot timesworth fufty thousand more - a hundred thousand pounds, half amillion dollars uz the Yankees say, an' me wuth all theresponsubility gettun' a screw o' twenty pounds a month. What monashore, managin' a buz'ness worth a hundred thousand pounds wull begettun' uz small a screw uz twenty pounds? An' wuth such mastersuz a captun serves - the owners, the underwriters, an' the Board o'Trade, all pullun' an wantun' dufferent thungs - the owners wantun'quick passages an' domn the rusk, the underwriters wantun' safepassages an' domn the delay, an' the Board o' Trade wantun'cautious passages an' caution always meanun' delay. Threedufferent masters, an' all three able an' wullun' to break ye uf yedon't serve their dufferent wushes."He felt the train slackening speed, and peered again through themisty window. He stood up, buttoned his overcoat, turned up thecollar, and awkwardly gathered the child, still asleep, in hisarms."I wull see the father," he said, "an' hov the money ready tull hushond so uf I'm ot sea when the land offers he wull no muss thechance tull buy. An' then the owners can guv me the sack uz soonuz they like. Ut will be all night un, an' I wull be wuth you,Annie, an' the sea can go tull hell."Happiness was in both their faces at the prospect, and for a momentboth saw the same vision of peace. Annie leaned toward him, and asthe train stopped they kissed each other across the sleeping child.

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