Mrs. Niven sighed. "Of course. Still, about Appleby?"

"Well," said her husband smiling, "I think I could tell you more when I

have had a talk with the owners to-morrow."

He nodded as he went away, and it was next afternoon when he sat talking

with an elderly gentleman in a city office.

"We would of course be willing to take a lad you recommended," said the

latter. "Still, I was not altogether pleased to hear that my partner

had promised to put your son into the _Aldebaran_."

"No?" said Mr. Niven with a twinkle in his eyes. "Now I fancied you

would have been glad of the opportunity of obliging me."

The other man looked thoughtful. "To be frank, I would sooner have had

the son of somebody we carried less goods for," said he. "With the

steamers beating us everywhere we have to run our ships economically,

and get the most out of our men, and I accordingly fancy that while it

would not have made him as good a seaman, your son would have been a

good deal more comfortable as one of the new cadet apprentices on board

a steamer."

Mr. Niven smiled dryly. "I have no great wish to make my lad a seaman.

The fact is, there's a tolerably prosperous business waiting for him,

but in the meanwhile he will go to sea, and it seems to me that the best

thing I can do is to let him. He will probably be quite willing to

listen to what I have to tell him after a trip or two, and find out

things I could never teach him on board your vessel."

"Well," said the shipowner with a little laugh, "it is often an

effective cure as well as a rough one."

Mr. Niven left the office with a document in his pocket, and on

Christmas morning Appleby found a big, blue envelope upon his breakfast

plate.

"I wonder what is inside it," said Mrs. Niven.

Appleby sighed. "It has a business appearance," he said. "It will be

to tell me when I'm to go to the office."

"Hadn't you better open it?" said Mrs. Niven with a glance at her

husband, and there was silence while Appleby tore open the envelope.

Then the colour crept into his face, and his fingers trembled as he took

out a document.

"I can't understand it," he said. "This seems to be an apprentice's

commission--indentures--for me. The ship is the _Aldebaran_."

There was a howl of delight from Chriss, and a rattle as he knocked over

his coffee, but Appleby sat still, staring at the paper, while belief

slowly replaced the wonder in his eyes. Then he rose up, and his voice

was not even as he said, "It is real. I am to go in the _Aldebaran_. I

have to thank you, sir, for this?"

Mr. Niven laughed. "No, my lad," he said. "It was my wife's doing, and

if you are sorry by and by you will have her to blame."

Appleby turned to the lady, and his eyes were shining. "It's almost too

much," he said. "Chriss and I are going together. It is everything I

could have hoped for."

Mrs. Niven smiled, though there was a little flush in her face. "Sit

down and get your breakfast before Chriss goes wild and destroys all the

crockery," she said.

Chriss laughed uproariously. "Crockery!" he said. "If we'd been at

Sandycombe we'd have smashed every pane in the Head's conservatory.

Tom, it's--oh, it's jim-bang, blazing, glorious!"

That was the happiest Christmas Appleby had ever spent, and he

remembered it many a time afterwards when he kept his lonely watch

peering into the bitter night from plunging forecastle and spray-swept

bridge, or while he clung to the slanted topsail yard clawing at the

canvas that banged above him in the whirling snow.

Then, when he knew the reality, he could smile a little at his boyish

dream, but that day he only felt his blood tingle and every fibre in him

thrill in answer to the calling of the sea. He was English, and the

spirit which had from the beginning of his nation's history driven out

hero and patriot, as well as cutthroat slaver and privateer, to scorch,

and freeze, and suffer, do brave things, and some that were shameful,

too, and with it all keep the red flag flaunting high in symbol of

sovereignty, was in him also. All that day shield-ringed galley,

caravel, towering three-decker, steel-sheathed warship, and ugly cargo

tramp sailed through his visions, and they had for a background palms

and coral beaches, mountains rolled in snow cloud, and the blink of

frozen seas. They and their crews' story were a part of his

inheritance, because, although the times have changed and canvas is

giving place to steam, English lads have not forgotten, and the sea is

still the same.

Appleby, however, had commenced to realize that going to sea is not all

luxury when he stood on the _Aldebaran's_ sloppy deck one bleak morning

in February. It was drizzling, and the light was dimmed by a smoky haze,

while the ship was foul all over with black grime from the coaling

staithes and the dust that had blown across her from a big elevator

hurling up Indian wheat. It was also very raw, and Niven's face was

almost purple with the cold, while the moisture glistened on his new

uniform. A few bedraggled women and a cluster of dripping men stood on

the dock wall above them. Other men tumbled dejectedly about the

forecastle, falling over the great wet hawsers, while one or two who had

crawled out of the mate's sight lay rather more than half-asleep in the

shadow beneath it.

A grey-haired man with a sour face paced up and down the poop, raising

one hand now and then when a dock official shouted, while Appleby sprang

aside when another man he spoke to came down the poop-ladder and along

the deck in long, angry strides. He wore a woolly cloth cap,

knee-boots, and a very old pilot-coat, and he had a big, coarse face,

with heavy jawbone and cruel eyes. Still, the very way he put his feet

down denoted strength, and Appleby noticed the depth of his chest and

the spread of his shoulders. Niven, who had not seen him, did not move

in time, and the man flung him backwards.

"Out of the way!" he said.

Niven's face was flushed when he recovered his balance, and there was an

angry flash in his eyes as he watched the man plunge into the shadow

below the forecastle. In another moment several figures came scrambling

out of it, and went up the ladder as for their lives, with the man in

the pilot-coat close behind.

"If that's the new mate he looks more like a prize-fighter than a

sailor," said Niven. "How does he strike you, Tom?"

"I think he's a brute," said Appleby quietly.

They said nothing further, for that was their first acquaintance with

the under-side of life at sea, and their thoughts were busy, while in

another minute the mate looking in their direction signed to them, and

it did not appear advisable to keep a man of his kind waiting.

"Give these beasts a hand," he said when they stood among the seamen on

the sloppy forecastle. "You can't be more useless than they are,

anyway."

Niven stooped, and clawed disgustedly at the great wet hawser behind the

swaying men, and one of them, who was dark-haired and sallow, glanced

over his shoulder when the mate swung away.

"Ah, _cochon_!" he said.

Another, who had tow-hair, stood up and stretched his stalwart limbs.

"Der peeg! Oh, yes. Dot vas goot," he said. "I tink der vas some

troubles mit dot man soon."

A little man with high cheek bones and curious half-closed eyes loosed

his grasp upon the rope and laughed softly. He also said something to

himself, but as it was Finnish neither Appleby nor Niven were much the

wiser.

It, however, occurred to them that the language they had listened to was

not quite what one would have expected to hear on board an English ship.

There were a few Englishmen on board her, but they did not talk, and for

the most part leaned up against anything handy, or slouched aimlessly

about looking very unfit for work, which was not altogether astonishing

considering the fashion in which they had spent the previous night.

Still the hawser was paid out at last, and Appleby stood up breathless,

smeared with slime and coal-dust when the ropes astern fell with a

splash, and there was a hoot from the bustling little tug. Somebody

roared out orders on the quay above, paddles splashed, and the lad felt

his heart give a curious little throb as the _Aldebaran_ slowly

commenced to move. She was a big iron barque loaded until her scuppers

amidships were apparently only a foot or two from the scum of the dock.

He stood forward behind the maze of wire rope about the jibboom, which

was not yet run out, on the forecastle, but just below him this broke

off, and the deck ran aft sunk almost a man's height between the iron

bulwarks to the raised poop at the opposite end of the ship. Half-way

between stood a little iron house, and down the middle of the deck rose

the three great masts, the last and smallest of them, springing from the

poop. Behind it a man in shining oilskins was spinning the wheel. The

deck looked very long and filthy, for the wheat-dust and the coal-dust

were over everything, and bales, and boxes, and cases strewn amidst the

straggling lengths of rope.

Then he heard a fresh shouting, and saw that the bowsprit was already

raking through the open gate of the dock, and there were faces smiling

down on him from the wall above.

"Chriss," he said, "look up."

Niven did, and Appleby swung his cap off when a hoarse and somewhat

spiritless cheer went up. Mr. Niven was shouting something he could not

catch, Mrs. Niven was smiling down at them with misty eyes, and the very

pretty girl at her side waving a handkerchief.

Appleby glanced at his comrade out of the corner of his eyes and saw

that Chriss's face had grown unusually red. Still, he was shouting

lustily, and swinging his cap, while in the silence that followed the

cheer a hoarse voice rose up--

Blow the men down,

Blow the men down,

Oh, give us time

To blow the men down.

There was another scream from the whistle, and a roar from the mate, and

while the last ropes were cast off the two lads ran aft along the deck.

Paddles splashed, ropes slid through the water, and while the red ensign

thrice swung up and sank above their heads the _Aldebaran_ slid out into

the Mersey. Once more the voices rang out hoarsely in farewell, and

then while the groups on the quay grew blurred and dim they were sliding

away with the ebb-tide into the haze and rain. Niven looked astern

until the speck of waving handkerchief was lost to him, and then turned

to Appleby with a little gulp.

"That's the last of them!" he said. "They're going back to dinner, and

we--now I wonder what we're going to out there."

He pointed vaguely with a hand that shook a little across the dismal

slate-grey waters beyond the bows, but Appleby understood him, for it

was the unknown that was filled as yet with great and alluring

possibilities the jibboom pointed to. Yet deep down within him he felt

as Niven did, a regret and a yearning after the things he had left

behind. It was very cold and wet on the _Aldebaran's_ deck.

*CHAPTER III*

*DOWN CHANNEL*

The first day at sea is seldom very pleasant to anybody, especially on

board a sailing ship, and the one the lads had looked forward with

bright hopes to, dragged by dismally. For an hour or two painted buoy

and rolling red lightship came crawling back towards them out of the

rain, and then when the last of the Lancashire sandhills had faded over

their starboard hand, there was only smoky cloud before them and a grey

sea, across which little white ripples splashed.

Still, the tug was powerful and hauled them steadily along with a

rhythmical splash and tinkle at the bows that rose and fell a little,

and a muddy wake streaked with froth astern. Once or twice they caught

a blink of the hills of Wales, but the vapours that unrolled a trifle

closed in again, and the lads were glad they had not much opportunity

for looking about them. There were huge ropes to be coiled up and

stowed away, bales and cases to be put below, the jibboom to be rigged

out, decks washed and everything cleaned down, and while the drizzle

blew about them they stumbled amidst the litter and got in everybody's

way. Now and then a seaman laughed at them or another growled. One or

two they offered to assist shoved them aside, and it commenced to dawn

upon Chriss Niven for the first time that he was of very little use in

the busy world. The knowledge was not pleasant, but it was probably

good for him.

Then the daylight died out, and while now and then coloured lights crept

up ahead and grew dim again behind, one after another long streamers of

brilliance whirled up across the sea. They, too, grew brighter,

flashed, and blinked, and flickered, and faded away, and Appleby grew

more chilly when he could find nothing more to do, until at last he

sighed with contentment when somebody told him to go into the deckhouse

if he wanted any tea.

When he entered it he saw a lamp that smoked a good deal swinging from a

blackened iron beam, and two lads a little older than himself sitting on

their sea-chests with enamelled plates on their knees, and a great can

of steaming tea before them. They were just out of port, and having

brought their own things they feasted for once royally on fresh bread

and butter, sardines and marmalade. One of them who had a pleasant face

filled up Niven's pannikin, and pointed to the bread.

"Wire in. You'll not have the chance very long," he said. "It's your

job to go to the galley and bring the senna in, but we have let you off

this time. I'd take those things you're wearing off, if I was you. We

don't dress like gunboat commanders on board the _Aldebaran_."

"You brought this grub yourselves. They don't feed you very well," said

Appleby, and the others laughed.

"No," said one. "None of the _Aldebarans_ would get a prize at a cattle

show, and you'd be glad to steal the dog's dinner in a week or two, only

we haven't got one. You see a dog can't live on nothing as we're almost

expected to do, and the old man's too mean to waste food on anything

that can't handle sail."

"What's he like apart from his stinginess?" asked Niven.

"Well," said one of the others, "I have sailed with worse--a little--but

the old man don't count for very much, anyway, because it's the mate who

runs the ship, and the one we've got now's a terror."

"He's a pig-faced Geordie with a tiger's heart. I'd sooner live with a

shark," said a lad who sat in a corner. "Hadn't been out two hours when

he pitched one of the fellows forward down the hold. Of course it was

tolerably full, and he didn't fall very far."

"What did the man do?" asked Appleby.

"Crawled away out of sight, and went to sleep--of course," said the

first speaker; "none of them will be much good until to-morrow, but

there'll be a circus or two on board this packet before we fetch

Vancouver."

It was not very encouraging, but it was evident that they must make the

best of it, and Appleby solaced himself with a long draught from his

pannikin. The tea was hot and sweet at least, though there was very

little else to recommend it, and it and the crumbly bread that tore

beneath the knife put a little warmth and vigour into him. There was

very little of the loaf left when all were contented, and following the

example of the others, he and Niven crawled into their shelf-like bunks.

Appleby flung off his jacket only because Lawson the eldest lad warned

him that he might be wanted at any moment, but though his clothes were

wet and his straw mattress might have been more cosy, he was glad to

feel the warmth begin to creep back into his chilled limbs. The lamp

creaked dolefully above him as it swung to and fro, casting a brightness

that flickered and vanished on the brass of the ports. Moisture stood

beaded on the iron beams, and the wooden floor was wet, while now and

then one of the big sea-chests groaned as it moved a little. Nothing

was quite what Appleby had expected, but he did not think there was

anything to be gained by mentioning it, and his eyes were growing dim

when a shout roused him. Lawson was out of his berth in a moment and

struggling into a black oilskin.

"You should have had yours handy, but you'll have to turn out without

it. They're getting sail on to her," hee said.

It seemed very black and cold when Appleby went out into the rain again.

The wind had evidently freshened, and sang through the maze of cordage

above him with a doleful wailing, while as he peered into the darkness a

burst of bitter spray beat into his eyes. It was almost a minute before

he could see again, and then he made out the reeling lights of the tug

with a row of paler ones behind them, and not far away a great whirling

blaze.

"That's the Skerries," said Lawson, who appeared at his elbow.

"Yonder's Holyhead. Wind's freshening out of the south-east, and she'll

about fetch Tuskar on a close jam down channel."

Appleby did not understand very much of this, but he had little time to

wonder as to its meaning, for the mate went by just then, and Lawson

vanished into the darkness when his voice rang out, "Fore and main

topsails. Forward there, loose the jibs."

Dark objects went by at a floundering run, and Appleby followed some of

them to the foremost shrouds which ran spreading out with the rattlings

across them from the lower mast-head to the rail. He had swung himself

up on to it, and was glancing down at the leaping foam below, when

somebody grabbed him by the arm, and next moment he was staggering

across the deck.

"You'll go up there when you're told," the mate's voice said. "We want

a good deal more work out of you before you're drowned."

"He's a pig," said Niven, appearing close by, and then sank back into

the shadow when a big hand reached out in his direction, while presently

the two found themselves pulling and hauling amidst a group of swaying

figures about the foot of the foremast. It ran up into the darkness

black and shadowy, and dark figures were crawling out on the long yard

above them that stretched out into the night, while there was a groaning

and rattling that drowned the wailing of the wind.

"Gantlines!" said somebody. "A pull on the lee-sheet. Overhaul your

clew," and black folds of canvas blew out and banged noisily above them.

Then while the men chanted something as they rose and fell, the flapping

folds slowly straightened out, and Niven looking up saw the topsail

stretch into a great shadowy oblong. Then the men upon its yard seemed

to claw at the next one, and there was more banging and thrashing as it

rose, while the tug's whistle hooted, and hoarse shouts fell from the

darkness and mingled with those from the poop.

"Forward," roared somebody. "Get the jibs on to her."

Neither Niven nor Appleby knew whether this referred to them or what

they were expected to do, but there was nobody to tell them, so they

followed two men forward, and stood panting a moment on the forecastle.

It was rising and falling sharply now, for a long swell was running up

channel, and they could dimly see a man crawling out upon the jibboom.

This time they did not attempt to follow him, and when somebody drove

them down the ladder a figure in oilskins thrust a rope into their

hands.

"Hang on while I sweat it up," it said.

Appleby did not understand the manoeuvre, but when the man caught the

rope beneath a pin and they took up the slack he gave them at every

backward swing, a long triangular strip of canvas ceased banging, and

the lads felt they were doing something useful when presently a second

one rose into the blackness. Then they stood gasping, and watched the

lights of the tug slide by. They could see the white froth from her

paddles and the rise and fall of the black hull, while the voice of her

skipper came ringing across the water.

"Good voyage!" he said. "You'll fetch Tuskar without breaking tack."

The tug went by, and Niven set his lips when with a farewell hoot of her

whistle she vanished into the blackness astern. She was going back to

Liverpool, and would be there before the morrow, while when another day

crept out of the rain he would be only so much farther from home. He

was not exactly sorry he had come, but by no means so sure that the sea

was the only calling for Englishmen as he had been. Then the bulwarks

they leaned upon lurched beneath them, and he was sensible that Appleby

was speaking.

"She's starting now. Look at her. This is good, after all," he said.

Niven looked, and saw that black tiers of canvas had clothed the masts,

though their upper portions still projected above it. They were also

slanting, and the deck commenced to slope beneath him, while the long

iron hull took on life and motion. There was a roar beneath the bows

which rose and fell with a leisurely regularity, a swing and dip of the

sloppy deck, and the spray began to blow in little stinging clouds over

the forecastle. The wind also grew sharper, and at last Niven laughed

excitedly as he felt the _Aldebaran_ sweep away faster and faster into

the night.

"Oh, yes," he said. "Now one can forget the other things."

"She's lying up close," said Lawson, who came by. "Still, I'm glad the

old man doesn't want the topgallants on her yet. Those are the next

higher sails, and she's a very wet ship when you drive her. Look out.

She's beginning her capers now."

As he spoke the bows dipped sharply, and from the weather side of the

forecastle a cloud of spray whirled up. It blew in long wisps to

leeward, struck with a patter along the rail, and before Niven, whose

face was streaming, could shake himself, a rush of very cold water

sluiced past him ankle-deep. Then the long hull heaved beneath him, and

lurched forward faster still.

"I'm wetter than I was when we found Jimmy's duck, but this is great.

She's just tearing through it," he said.

As he spoke a sing-song cry came out of the spray that whirled about the

dipping forecastle, "Steamer's masthead light to starboard, sir."

Appleby, glancing over his right hand, saw a blink of yellow radiance

beyond the swelling curves of the jibs. It was rising higher rapidly,

and while he watched it, a speck of green flickered out beneath. Then a

deep, organ-toned booming broke through the humming of the wind, and he

saw a dark figure which he fancied was the mate swing up and down the

poop, and another behind it stand rigid at the wheel.

"One of the Liverpool mailboats doing twenty knots, and it isn't any

wonder their skippers are nervous when they meet a sailing-ship coming

down channel," said Lawson at his side.

Then somebody gave an order on the _Aldebaran's_ poop, and though it was

not the usual one, any English sailor would have understood it. As it

happened, however, the man who held the wheel was not a Briton, and next

moment Appleby felt the ship swing round a trifle.

"Jimminy!" gasped Lawson. "The Dutchman's going to ram us right across

her."

Next moment there was a bewildering roar from the whistle, and ringed

about with lights the great bulk of the liner sprang out of the night.

Towering high with her long rows of deckhouses punctured with specks of

brilliancy and her two great funnels black against the sky, she was

apparently heading straight for them.

Appleby saw all this in a second while he held his breath, and then

there was a scuffle on the _Aldebaran's_ poop. Somebody sprang towards

the wheel, there was a thud, and a man reeled away from it, while high

up in the darkness, canvas banged as the _Aldebaran_ once more swerved a

trifle. As she did so a man came staggering down the poop ladder, and

with the white froth seething about her the liner swept by. Appleby

gasped, and felt that he was shaking, while he saw that Lawson's face

was a trifle white by the yellow glow that came out of one of the poop

windows.

Then there was a roaring of orders, rattle of blocks, and hauling at

ropes, and a curious silence by contrast when the _Aldebaran_ swung

forward with a springy lurch again, and Appleby saw the man who had come

down the ladder, sitting apparently half-dazed upon the deck. His face

was bleeding.

"Der port und der starboard I know. Also der loof, and keep her away,

but der pinch her up I know not, und now I am very seeck," he said.

"I shouldn't wonder if he was," said Lawson dryly. "Still, though that's

how accidents happen, it wasn't the stupid beggar's fault he didn't

understand pinch her up. The old man wanted him to screw her a little

nearer the wind, and luff, or a little higher would have been the usual

thing."

"Pinch!" said the seaman. "I not know him, but oop I hear, und I oop

mit him."

"And he'd have slung us across the liner's bows if the mate hadn't been

too quick for him," said Lawson. "The fellow's head must be made of

iron or that smack would have killed him. Well, these things will

happen when you're fresh from port."

Appleby and Niven were glad to crawl into their berths again when the

watch was over, and neither of them said anything, though that was not

because they were not thinking. It was evident that going to sea was

not quite all they had fancied it would be, and they had an unpleasant

recollection of the Dutchman's bleeding face, and other tokens of the

mate's temper. Still, they were tired and drowsy, and in another few

minutes Appleby was sleeping too soundly even to dream of slavers and

pirates as he had not infrequently done at Sandycombe. Niven, however,

tossed and groaned, for his head was hot, and everything seemed to be

spinning round, but at last the blinking light faded, and slumber

banished the distressful nausea that tormented him.

There was a greyness low down to the eastwards when, swathed in

streaming oilskins now, they stood where there was a little shelter

beneath the weather-rail next morning. It was raining heavily, but the

sky was no longer covered by the smoky haze, and here and there a patch

of pale indigo showed between the streaks of driving cloud. The lads

could see the white-flecked sea tops heave against it, and the rows of

straining staysails, and great oblongs of the topsails across the masts,

sharp and black above them as if cut out of ebony. They were not,

however, especially interested in anything just then, for the

_Aldebaran_ was pitching close-hauled into a short head sea, and Appleby

felt unpleasantly dizzy. Niven also clung very tightly to the rail, and

his face, so far as it could be seen, was of a curious greyish-green,

while he gasped each time the barque dipped her nose viciously and sent

a cloud of spray blowing all over her.

Then for some ten minutes there was a deluge which blotted everything

out, and they could only hear the roar of the rain. It ceased suddenly,

and was followed by a great whirling of cloud, while the streaks of blue

grew larger, and the topsails became grey instead of black as the light

came through. The wind had also almost gone, but Appleby could see the

figure of a man upon the poop with his head turned aft as though looking

for something. In another minute he stood at the top of the ladder

shouting orders, and the deck was suddenly dotted with scrambling men.

They gathered in little groups about the feet of the masts and along the

rail, and became busy flinging down coils of rope. Somebody shoved one

into Niven's hands, and he and Appleby hauled among the rest as the long

yards swung round until they were square across the vessel, and then

pointed a trifle towards the other side of her. There was a banging and

rattling overhead as the staysails came down, and a man laughed when the

_Aldebaran_ lay rolling in a momentary calm.

"It's not easy to pull a Geordie's tail when he's asleep," he said.

"And you'd better go round the other road if he has a fancy you've got a

bone."

Niven understood the speech was a compliment to the mate's watchfulness.

"What is he making us do this for?" he asked.

"Well," said the seaman good-humouredly, "you'll find out these things

by and by. Now we were working down channel close-hauled with the wind

south-east over our port bow, but it has dropped away with the rain.

The mate doesn't wait to see if another one will catch us with topsails

aback, because he smells it coming, and it will be screaming behind us

out of the north-west presently."

As he spoke one of the topsails swelled out, flapped and banged, then

other great oblongs of canvas ceased their rustling too, and a flash of

brilliant green swept athwart the sea. A patch of brass blinked in the

sudden brightness, the rigging commenced to hum, and the _Aldebaran_

moved, while once more the hoarse voice rose from the poop.

"Topgallants," it said, and then after a string of words Niven could not

catch, "Main royal."

Instantly there was a bustle. Men went up the shrouds, swung high on

the yards, letting little coils of rope run down, and a third big tier

of sailcloth swelled out on either mast. Chain rattled, running wire

screamed, the _Aldebaran_ ceased rolling, and Appleby could see the sea

smitten into white smoke rush past while he endeavoured to shake the

kinks out of very hard and swollen rope. In the meanwhile the voice

rose from the poop again, and when he had time to look about him two

great pyramids of sail with a third of different shape behind covered

the _Aldebaran_ from the last feet of her mastheads to her spray-swept

rail.

Then Appleby drew in his breath with a little gasp of wonder and

delight. The towering tiers of canvas that gleamed a silvery grey now

were rushing as fast as the clouds that followed them across blue lakes

of sky. The great iron hull had become an animate thing, for there was

life in every swift upward lurch and easy swing, and when he saw the

foam that roared away in ample folds about the bows unite again astern

and swirl straight back athwart the flashing green towards the horizon

he realized for a few moments all the exhilaration of swift motion.

Presently, however, he was sensible of a horrible qualm under his belt,

and looked at his hands with a little groan--one of them was bleeding

from the rasp of the ropes, and the other swollen and more painful than

if it had been beaten. He stood still for another second or two

endeavouring to convince himself that there was nothing unusual going on

inside him, and then staggered dizzily to the leeward rail. He found

Niven there already, and for the next few minutes two very unhappy lads

gazed down at the foam that whirled and roared beneath them as the

_Aldebaran_ swept out from the narrow seas before the brave

north-wester.

*CHAPTER IV*

*A LESSON IN SEAMANSHIP*

It was a fine Sunday, and the _Aldebaran_ rolling southwards lazily over

a dazzling sea when Niven and Appleby lay on the warm deck with their

shoulders against the house listening to Lawson who sat in the doorway

reading. Pleasant draughts flickered about them as the warm wind flowed

under the great arch of the mainsail's foot, and above it the sunlit

canvas climbed, tier on tier, to the little royals swaying slowly

athwart the blue. The barque was sliding forward on an even keel, but

now and then she lifted her weather side with a gentle roll, and a

brighter glare was flung up by the shining brine. Behind them the blue

smoke of the galley whirled in little puffs, and glancing aft Appleby

was almost dazzled by a flash from the twinkling brass boss of the

wheel. Then when the poop went down he could see the figure of the

helmsman forced up against the iridescent blueness of the sea.

Appleby wore a thin singlet and slippers, duck trousers and a jacket of

the same material that had once been white and was a nice grey now.

Niven's things were cleaner, but one rent trouser leg had been

inartistically sewn up with seaming twine, and neither of them looked

very like the somewhat fastidious youngsters who had once found fault

with their rations in Sandycombe School. Their faces were bronzed from

their foreheads to their throats, their hands were ingrained as a

navvy's, and almost as hard, and they could by this time have eaten

anything there was nourishment in.

"There's no use reading that stuff to us. We can't take it in," said

Niven.

Lawson grinned at Appleby. "A little thick in the head?" he said.

"No," said Niven. "My head's as good as those most people have, anyway.

I was top of the list almost every term when I was at school."

Lawson's smile grew broader. "That's a bad sign," he said. "Now I

never knew how much I didn't know until I came to sea, and you don't

seem to have got that far yet. You see, there's a good deal you want to

forget."

"Well," said Niven, "forgetting's generally easy. What would you teach a

fellow who wanted to go to sea?"

Lawson rubbed his head. "How to get fat on bread and water would come

in useful for one thing," he said. "Then it would be handy to know just

when to say nothing when you're kicked, and when it would be better to

put your foot down and answer with your fist. You see, if you do either

of them at the wrong time you're apt to be sorry."

"Appleby knows that already," said Niven, whose eyes twinkled as he

glanced at his friend.

Appleby made a grimace, and Lawson laughed.

"Then it's a good deal more than you do, though I expect the mate will

teach you the first of it," he said.

"Now, when Cally put soft-soap in your singlet and sewed your trousers

up you should have laughed fit to split yourself, as Appleby did. Cally

tarred his hair for him, and there's some in yet, but any one would have

fancied that he liked it."

Niven wriggled a little. "Oh, shut up! That's not what we want to

know," he said.

"No?" said Lawson. "Then we'll get on to the healthful art and practice

of seamanship. Am I to commence at the end, or half-way through? The

beginning will not be much use to you."

"I'll climb down," said Niven. "Made an ass of myself, as usual. Now,

do you want me to lick your boots for you? Begin at the beginning, and

make it simple."

Lawson chuckled. "You'll get on while you're in that frame of mind, my

son," he said. "Well, now, there are, generally speaking, two kinds of

sailing ships--first the fore-and-afters, examples, cutter, ketch, and

schooner, with their canvas on one side only of the mast. They're to be

described as tricky, especially when you jibe them going free, but when

you jam them on the wind they'll beat anything."

"Jam them on the wind?" said Appleby.

Lawson nodded. "Close-hauled sailing. That's what I'm coming to," he

said. "In the meanwhile there's the other kind, the one the Britisher

holds to, while the Yankee who knows how to run cheap ships smiles, the

square-riggers, examples, the ship and brig. Their sails are bent to

yards which cross the masts, and, as you have found out, you've got to

go aloft in all weathers to handle them, which is not one of their

advantages. Then we come to the modifications or crosses between them,

the barque, two masts square-rigged, fore-and-aft on mizzen, of which

the _Aldebaran_ is a tolerably poor example, topsail schooner,

brigantine, which has yards on her foremast and fore-and-aft main, and

barquentine with foremast square-rigged and two mainmasts carrying

fore-and-aft canvas, though they call the last of them the mizzen. The

other kind I didn't mention is the one that makes the money, and sails

with a screw. Got that into you?"

"Oh, yes," said Niven, yawning. "Can't you get on? I knew it all years

ago."

Lawson grinned. "Of course!" he said. "Well, I'll leave the mate to

talk to you."

He went into the deckhouse, and returned with a sheet of paper and a

little, beautifully-constructed model of a full-rigged ship. "I made it

last trip to work out questions for my examination with," he said, but

the deprecation in his bronzed face betrayed his pride, and Appleby, who

saw how tenderly he handled the model, understood. "Now we come to the

one and universal practice of sailing. I make this ring on the paper,

and you can consider it the compass, or, and it's the same thing,

one-half the globe. Here I draw two lines across it crossing each

other, and we'll mark the ends of them North, South, East, and West.

That divides the circle into four quarters, and the corners where the

lines intersect are right angles, each containing ninety degrees, or

eight points of the compass which has thirty-two in all."

He laid the paper on the deck, and when he had turned it so that the

first line run from North to South, placed the model at the upper end of

it, and twisted the yards and sails, which moved, square across the

hull. "The wind's blowing from Greenland to the South pole, and she's

going before it," he said. "Anything would sail that way--it's called

running--even a haystack, and you trim the vessel's sails whether she's

fore-and-aft or square-rigged at right angles to a line drawn down the

middle of her hull. Well, we've reached the south end of the

line--we'll say it's the south pole, and want to get back north again,

but the wind is right against us now."

He picked up the model, and twisted the yards again so that they slanted

sharply across the hull, making a small angle with its middle line.

"Now she's braced sharp up, or close hauled--every sheet's hauled in--on

the wind, and we'll start her heading north-east on the port tack. That

is, the wind's on the port side of her, though we could have started on

the opposite one heading north-west, if we had liked. Run that line

along, and you'll find it makes an angle of four points of the compass,

or forty-five degrees, with the wind, which makes it evident that by and

by you come to the edge of the first quarter of the circle at east.

Then, if we put the ship round with the wind on her opposite side, and

sail at the same angle as far again, we come back to north, where the

wind is blowing from, and when you grasp that you've got the principle

of the whole thing. With the wind behind you all sails flowing, when

you're working up against it, everything's flattened in, but you have to

remember that all vessels don't sail equally close to the wind, and

while a racing cutter will lie very close indeed, a shallow full-bowed

hooker must have it almost on her side to keep her going. That's why I

took four points as a handy example, because two tacks of forty-five

degrees would bring us back again."

"But why doesn't the wind shove her away sideways when she's

close-hauled?" asked Appleby.

Lawson nodded approval. "That shows you're following, it does," he

said. "Still it don't amount to very much if the vessel's deep, because

all of her that's in the water offers resistance to it. They all slide

off a little, and that's the leeway."

"Well," said Niven, "when the wind's so to speak almost against her,

what makes her go ahead at all?"

Lawson grinned. "What makes a kite go up against the wind? You see the

sails of a close-hauled ship make about the same angle to it as a kite

does. They didn't teach you that at school?"

"I think they did," said Appleby. "There's something very like it in

the parallelogram of forces."

"The biscuit's yours," said Lawson. "Get that into you, and you know

all the whys of sailing."

He yawned and bent over his book, repeating snatches of curious ditties

about green to green and red to red, and steamers crossing, but Appleby

remembered what he had heard, which was fortunate, because it was the

only instruction that anybody ever gave him on board the _Aldebaran_.

Then the cook banged on something in his galley, and Niven, who got up

and stretched himself, went along to bring in the tea. He came back

with a big steaming can and grinned at Appleby.

"They'll be getting very different tucker at home," he said. "Still, it

will be beastly cold and wet up there just now."

His merriment was evidently a trifle forced, and another lad who lay

poring over a book in a corner raised his head.

"Oh, shut up!" he said. "We've heard all that before, and you don't do

it very well. If I could get back into the shop the governor found me

I'd like to catch myself going to sea. Oh, great handspikes! Just

listen to the brute."

A storm of venomous language came forward from the poop, and through the

drowsy flap of canvas and stillness of the dazzling ocean there rang the

strident voice of the mate. Lawson slowly shook his head.

"She was scarcely steering, and Biddulph has let her fall off," he said.

"They've stood a good deal forward, but that mate of ours is pushing

them too far."

Then there was silence that seemed deepened by the light flap and rustle

of sailcloth and gurgle of shining brine, but the peace of the day had

gone, and the shadow which crept into the four young faces was that

which has darkened so many lives at sea. They had all been used to

discipline, and did not resent it, while it had been made evident to two

of them of late that on board a sailing ship toil that is brutal as well

as perilous is often a necessity. They would also have undertaken it

more or less cheerfully, but there had been added to it a ruthless

tyranny, and Appleby's little sigh seemed to ask the question that

downtrodden men have asked from the beginning--why such things must be?

And, for he was young, he could not find an answer.

A little breeze sprang up after sunset, and the ship was sliding faster

through a sea that blazed about her with lights of green and gold when

Appleby hung about the deck, held still and silent by something in the

harmonies of the night. There was no moon, but there was also no cloud

in the sky, and the great stars the mast-heads swayed across hung set

far back one behind the other in the blue, while the spires of canvas

towered black and sharp under their cold light. Not a cloth rustled,

but there came down from the gossamer tracery of rigging a little

musical humming that suggested the chanting of an invisible choir.

Forward a black figure was visible on the forecastle. Here and there

another showed along the dusky line of bulwarks, and now and then

Appleby could see the dark shape of the mate standing high upon the

poop. This, however, was not often, because he preferred to keep the

great shadowy mainsail between himself and it. Night and sea were still

and peaceful, and that sinister figure alone jarred upon their serenity.

Suddenly the harsh voice he feared broke the silence, and Appleby

instinctively set his lips when he saw his comrade cross the deck. It

was noticeable that Niven went at a trot, and if he had been told that

one side of the poop is usually sacred to the officer of the watch

knowing that haste was advisable he forgot. A moment or two later he

stood panting at the head of the ladder, which rose about six feet from

the deck, and the mate strode towards him with arm drawn back. Possibly

something had ruffled his temper, which was at the best a bad one, that

night.

"There are two ladders to this poop, and this will teach you which is

yours," he said.

Then before Niven could speak the arm shot out, and the breathless lad

reeled backwards with head swimming and a tingling face. The blow had

possibly not been a very cruel one, but the _Aldebaran_ swung her stern

up just then, and the opening in the rails was close behind him. He

went out through it backwards, caught his foot on the rung of the

ladder, and pitching over came down with a sickening thud on deck.

Appleby, who had seen it all, ran aft and knelt down beside him.

"Chriss, are you hurt?" he gasped.

[Illustration: "'CHRISS, ARE YOU HURT?'"]

There was no answer, and hearing a rattle on the ladder the lad looked

up, and saw the mate standing close by. He had his hands in his

pockets, but there was an unpleasant look in his face.

"Shamming. Take him forward," he said, and stooped as though about to

shake the lad who still lay motionless.

He, however, straightened himself as Appleby rose up, and stood before

him, quivering, with hand clenched and a blaze in his eyes.

"Get back! You have done enough," he said, and if Niven could have

heard it he would scarcely have recognized his comrade's voice.

"Hello!" the mate said sharply. "Were you talking to me?"

"Yes," said Appleby hoarsely, but very quietly. "And I have a little

more to tell you. You can't do these things with impunity, and we'll

have you kicked out of the Company for this."

It was not, of course, a judicious speech, but Appleby was scarcely in a

state to decide what was most fitting then. The mate moved a pace

nearer him, and his hands were out of his pockets now, but he stopped

close by Appleby, for the lad stood stiffly upright, his face grey with

passion.

"I'll make you sorry. Get him out of this," he said.

Then Niven raised himself a little, and blinked dizzily at both of them.

"I think I could get up if you helped me, Tom," he said.

Appleby shivered a little as he saw the red smear on the back of his

head, but before he moved an elderly man with a sour face and grizzled

hair came down the ladder and stopped in front of them. He glanced at

Niven and then at Appleby, but it is probable that a scene of the kind

was not quite new to him, and his face was expressionless.

"Well, what's it all about?" he said.

Appleby had but once or twice spoken to the captain, who was a grim,

silent man, and not seen very often in fine weather. Whether he was

contented with the mate's conduct was not apparent, but as usual it was

the latter who handled the ship's company.

"You had better ask the mate, sir," said Appleby. "He knocked him down

the ladder."

The skipper turned towards the other man, and the mate laughed a little.

"That's not quite right, sir," he said. "The lad can't take telling,

and he came up the wrong ladder when I sang out for him. I guessed it

was done out of impudence, and let him have it so it wouldn't hurt him

much with the flat of my hand. She gave a lurch just then that threw

him off his feet and down he went. Then this one began a rumpus, and

told me he'll have me run out of the service."

The skipper stooped over Niven. "Head's cut--at the back," he said in

an expressionless voice. "Get up, and go aft, my lad. I'll fix it for

you."

Niven rose shakily, and obeying the skipper's pointing hand walked

towards the poop with uneven steps. Then the latter looked at Appleby.

"What did he mean by that?" he said quietly.

Appleby understood the question, and though he fancied he was doing

wisely made a blunder. "I think I can do all I told him, sir," he said.

"You see, this ship is carrying Mr. Niven's goods, and one could fancy

the Company is glad to get them."

"Niven?" said the skipper, more to himself than the others. "Most of

the freight belongs to Clarke and Hall."

"They're dead," said Appleby, who had been told this. "There's only Mr.

Niven in the business now."

The skipper looked thoughtful. "Now I remember," he said as he turned

towards the mate, and stopped. "Well, this is my affair, Appleby, and

I'm the only man who can question what the mate does on board this ship.

If you do it again it will be the worse for you. Remember that."

Appleby touched his cap and moved away, and presently Niven came forward

from the poop with his head tied up. He was still pale, and moved

slowly, while he had little to tell his comrade.

"He put some stuff that smarted on the cut, but didn't ask any

questions, and told me to lie down," he said. "I'm going to do it

because I'm not myself yet. My head's all humming, and I don't seem to

want to talk."

Appleby helped him into his bunk, and then went back to his watch, while

he told Lawson all that had passed when he next had an opportunity. The

elder lad listened gravely.

"You fancy the old man believed you?" he said.

"Yes," said Appleby. "It isn't my fault if he didn't. I did my best to

make him."

Lawson shook his head. "Then I'm afraid you made a mess of things," he

said. "You see, if the old man believed you the mate would."

"Of course!" said Appleby. "That was what I wanted."

"Well," said Lawson, "it's unfortunate that you did. Now the old man's

tolerably tough, but he's not a fool, and, to give him his due, is

content with getting two men's work out of every one of the crew. He

knows the men who fill the ships up can make things nasty for the

captain, and it's quite likely he'll talk straight to the mate, though

he wouldn't to you, and that's not going to make the mate any fonder of

you and Niven."

"I was hoping it would keep him quiet," said Appleby.

"It wouldn't," said Lawson. "All that Niven's father could do would be

to get him turned out, and if the mate thought that likely he'd make it

warm for you before he went, you see. If you've any pull on the owners

it's not, as a rule, advisable to mention it at sea. It doesn't make

anybody think the better of you."

Appleby groaned. "I've been an ass again," he said. "Still, I fancied

he had killed Niven--and I had to do something."

Lawson smiled dryly. "There's only one thing anybody can do at sea, and

that's to keep his mouth shut and out of the way of trouble," he said.

"When you can't help things there's no use in kicking."

Appleby made no answer. It was a somewhat grim lesson, but it was one

that sooner or later every lad must learn, and the result of it is the

capacity for endurance which is not infrequently worth a good deal more

than courage in action.

*CHAPTER V*

*UNDER TOPSAILS*

Appleby was not long in discovering that Lawson was right. Hitherto the

mate had only stormed at him and his comrade as he did at the rest of

the vessel's company, but now he seemed to single them out for abuse

whenever he had an opportunity, and he managed to find a good many. It

was true that he attempted no further violence, but they could have

borne that better than the relentless petty persecution, for there was

scarcely a difficult or unpleasant task within their strength that the

lads were not set to do. Unpleasant duties are also by no means uncommon

on board a sailing ship.

Still, Appleby had seen that to protest was useless and likely to make

things worse, while because the mate was cunning as well as cruel it

would have been difficult to make a definite complaint even if there had

been anybody to listen to him, which, however, was not the case. So he

set his lips and bore it, and so as he could endeavoured to restrain

Niven, who would now and then break out into fits of impotent anger or

lie silent in his bunk after some fresh indignity. Had the work been

always necessary Appleby would have endeavoured to do it willingly,

though it was now and then almost disgusting, but the mate probably knew

this, and arranged things so that he should feel he was doing most of it

only to please his enemy. Grown men have been driven to

self-destruction or murderous retaliation by treatment of this kind, and

after a few weeks of it both lads felt they could endure no more.

Meanwhile the weather grew colder and the work harder. That was not the

worst time of the year for rounding Cape Horn, but they found it bad

enough, for the _Aldebaran_ met wild weather and she was loaded heavily,

while on the afternoon she lay rather more than a hundred miles to the

eastwards of the dreaded cape her crew were almost too worn out for

duty. She was then heading about south-west upon the starboard tack,

thrashing very slowly to windward under topsails, and flooding her decks

with icy water each time she poked her nose into the seas, and she did

it tolerably often, for the seas were very big. They came rolling down

to meet her out of the south-west, blue-black in the hollows, which were

streaked with foam and frothing on their crests, and Appleby would hold

his breath when one larger than its fellows rose high above the

starboard bow. Most often the _Aldebaran_ would swing up her head in

time and climb over the big wall of water with a swooping lurch, while

the spray that whirled up from her bows rattled like grapeshot into her

foretopsails and blew out in showers between the masts. Now and then,

however, she went through, and then there was a thud and roar and her

forecastle was lost from sight. It seemed a long while before she hove

it up again streaming, and every man held on to what was handiest when

the long deck was swept by torrents of icy brine. Then while frothy

wisps blew away from the forecastle and every scupper on one side

spouted she would stagger on again for perhaps ten minutes more dryly,

because the long ocean seas are by no means all equally steep and high.

Appleby and Niven were holding on, shivering with cold and wet through

in spite of their oilskins, by a pin on the weather rail, for the deck

slanted sharply and the water was washing everywhere. Glancing forward

they could see nothing but spray, and every now and then the frothing

top of a larger sea hove up against a vivid glare of green. When they

looked up, which it was not often advisable to do, they could see the

mastheads raking across a patch of hard deep blue, athwart which clouds

with torn edges whirled. There was little canvas on the slanted spars,

two jibs that ran water above the bowsprit, two topsails on either mast,

a staysail or two between them, and half the spanker on the mizzen. The

sails did not look as if they were made of flexible canvas but cast in

rigid metal.

Presently a wet man came clawing his way along, and stopped when Niven

called to him.

"Did you hear what we had made?" he said.

The man nodded, and growled at the spray which beat into his face. "The

stooard he heard the old man and the mate a-fixing it," he said. "She's

worked off about another twenty miles since noon yestidday."

Niven groaned. "Only twenty miles!" he said. "That's another week

before we can square away."

"Well," said the man with a little grim laugh, "I'd give her another

fortnight when I was at it. She'll take all that to fetch round with

this wind, any way."

The two lads looked at each other, and neither of them said anything

when in a lull between two plunges the man lurched away, but that was

because they fancied he was right and both were unwilling to admit all

that they were feeling.

They knew a good deal about close-hauled sailing now, for during four

long weeks the _Aldebaran_ had been thrashing her way to windward in the

face of stinging gales. Sometimes when the sea was a trifle smoother

she would gain a little on every tack, and then a fresh storm would come

roaring down, and when they had furled the higher sails with half-frozen

hands she would do little more than hold the wind upon her side and of

course make nothing at all in the required direction. Also they had

often to heave her to under little rags of sail with the sea upon her

bow while she blew away to leeward and lost in a few hours all they had

won the preceding day.

Always the decks were flooded, and the men wet to the skin. The galley

fire was frequently washed out, and they got cold provisions, often so

soaked with salt water that they could scarcely eat them, while when

sleep was possible they lay down as they were, all dripping, too worn

out to strip off their clothes. It would not have been advisable to

take them off in any case, for they might be turned out at any moment to

furl upper topsails or haul down staysails in a sudden freshening of the

gale. Canvas was furled and hoisted continually, because a ship will

not sail to windward through a heavy sea unless she is sternly pressed,

while her crew fight for every yard she makes.

Appleby even in his oilskins looked very gaunt and thin. His face was

hollow and bronzed by exposure to bitter wind and stinging brine, while

Niven, like many of the others, was troubled with painful sores from

sleeping in salt-stiffened clothes. Their hands were stiffened and

clawlike, their knuckles bleeding, and from the ceaseless rasp of ropes

the undersides of their fingers were very like grain-leather. Worn out

utterly and half-fed they were just holding out with the rest of the

_Aldebaran's_ company until they could thrash her far enough to the

westwards to square away and run north into better weather on the other

side of Cape Horn.

"Hallo!" said Niven presently. "That's a nasty cloud. I wonder what

fresh beastliness it's bringing us."

Appleby, glancing to windward, saw that the glaring green beyond the

seatops had faded out, and the horizon was smeared with grey. It also

seemed to be closing in upon them rapidly, and overhead a black cloud

with torn edges was swallowing up the strip of blue.

"More wind, any way. She'll scarcely bear upper topsails now," he said

with a little groan. "Still, the old man's tolerably stubborn at

carrying on."

Niven, glancing aft, could see the skipper's gaunt figure swung high

upon the poop against a frothing sea as he too glanced to windward. He

was probably as anxious as any one to get round Cape Horn, but it was

only by carrying sail to the last moment and making the most of every

lull he could hope to do it. Even as he gazed ragged ice fell pattering

along the decks, and the daylight died out leaving a grey dimness behind

it. Then for a few minutes sea and ship were hidden by the flying hail.

It cut the lads' raw knuckles until they could have cried out in agony,

thrashed their wet faces and rattled on their oilskins, while the

rigging roared above them, and twice in succession the _Aldebaran_ put

her whole forecastle in. Then a great sea foamed in almost solid over

her weather rail, and through all the uproar rang a high-pitched cry.

The words were indistinguishable as they would have been a yard away,

but the lads recognized it as the summons to shorten sail. For a minute

or two they were busy about the deck, and then while the ship swayed

over further the mate lurched by and grabbed the Dutchman, who was

working awkwardly with one hand, by the shoulder.

"Lay aloft, and give them a hand up there, you skulking hog," he said.

"Mine arm," said the seaman, "der right one, she is nod of good to me."

Appleby remembered that the fellow had badly hurt his arm, and scarcely

wondered at his reluctance to go aloft with only one hand to trust to as

he glanced above. The upper topsail had been partly lowered down, but

the loose canvas was thrashing between the yards, and these sloped down

towards the whitened sea apparently as steeply as the roof of a house.

Still, it was evident that every man was needed, for there were other

sails to be handled and the _Aldebaran_ was apparently going bodily

over. She hove her nose up for an instant, and Appleby had a momentary

glimpse of a jib that had burst its sheet thrashing itself to pieces

above the bowsprit. Then sight and hearing was lost in a cloud of

flying brine.

When he could open his eyes again he saw the mate lift his fist, and the

Dutchman glance deprecatingly at the arm that hung at his side.

"Lay aloft," said the former, "before you get a damaged head as well as

an arm."

The Dutchman shuffled towards the shrouds, and just then a half-heard

shout came down from one of the black figures on the inclined yard.

"We're beat. Send us another hand."

It was already evident to Niven that as the yard was higher than it

should have been something was foul, and he could see that unless the

men had help they would be hurled off it or the sail blown away. It was

not his especial duty, but it was no time to be particular when the

_Aldebaran_ lay swept from end to end at the mercy of the squall, and he

swung himself up into the shrouds close behind the Dutchman with Appleby

following. The wind flattened them against the rattlings as they fought

their way up, and then almost choked and blinded them as with the

swinging foot-rope against their heel and stiffened hands on the

slippery spar they crept outwards from the mast along the yard. They

were not of very much use there, indeed, most often they were in the

way, but they did what they could while the hail lashed their faces and

the drenched and stiffened canvas banged about them so that to hear

anything else was almost impossible. At times somebody shouted, but the

words were blown to leeward and quite incomprehensible.

It was their business to roll up the great flapping sail, and lash it to

the yard, but parts of it tore away from them, and blew out with a bang

like a rifle-shot every now and then, while the long wet spar they

leaned across increased the steepness of its slant. Niven glancing down

a moment fancied that the _Aldebaran's_ leeward rail was in the sea, and

saw the rigid figure on the weather side of the poop waving a hand to

them. He could, of course, hear no voice at all, but surmised the

gestures meant it was high time their work was finished. Then the

_Aldebaran_ dipped her nose into a sea, and the cloud of spray she flung

up hid everything, while in another moment a more furious gust shrieked

about them. The yard slanted still further, and he fancied it was

impossible the ship could recover.

His hands were stiffened and almost useless, his fingers were bleeding,

and his breath was spent, while as he held on helpless for a moment

there was a sound like thunder, and as a strip of canvas rent itself

from the grasp of those about him he saw the Dutchman clawing

desperately at the yard. The man slipped along it a foot or two, and

Niven, seeing his fingers sliding, remembered he had an injured arm. He

had also evidently lost his footing, for one leg was dangling, and the

lad instinctively seized his shoulder. That left him one hand to hold

on by, and he gasped with horror as he felt his fingers slipping from

the yard and saw a great sea burst into a tumultuous frothing beneath

him.

He was too cold and dazed to wonder if any of the others saw what was

happening, and could remember only that if he loosed his hold the man he

clutched would go whirling down to strike the iron bulwarks or plunge

into the sea. So he set his lips, and while his arms seemed to be

coming away from their sockets held on for a moment or two.

Then the hand he grasped the yard with slipped a trifle further, and

with a sickening horror he felt his clawlike fingers yield, but dazed,

half-blinded, and too overwrought with the struggle to think, he still

clutched the Dutchman. In another moment the hand came away altogether,

and man and boy went down.

Now a second or two earlier Appleby had noticed their peril, but could

do nothing because there was a man between them and him. He smote the

fellow's shoulder and shouted, but his words were blown away, and no one

else had eyes for anything but the banging sail. It was too late before

he could shout again, for with a little gasp he saw the two figures

whirl downwards beneath him, until, because the _Aldebaran_ lurched a

trifle just then, the smaller of them struck a big wire stay with folds

of loose canvas about it where it joined the mast, and lay for a second

or two across it. The other fell on the top of the deckhouse, and then,

while Appleby shivered, rolled off it and down on to the deck below.

Almost as this happened Niven slipped from the hauled-down staysail and

fell upon the house too, but apparently upon feet and hands together.

Then as Appleby endeavoured to get back to the mast so that he could

descend, the man nearest it grasped him and he could not pass. The lad

could not hear what he said, but he guessed its purport, and grew sick

with horror as he saw that the man was right. There were others below

to pick up the fallen if there was any life in them, and with the ship

in peril every hand was needed on the yards. Also, while that fact

might not have stopped him, he could not pass the man, who barred his

way to the mast.

So he stayed, and did what little he could among the rest, until at last

they had stowed the sail, and then went down in frantic haste, only to

be driven forward by the second mate. The latter was a kindly man, but

there are times when the injured or dying must take care of themselves

at sea, and there was still strenuous work to do. Thus at least

half-an-hour had passed, and the _Aldebaran_ was blowing sideways about

as fast as she forged ahead under lower topsails when Appleby reached

the deckhouse breathless and dripping. It was almost dark inside it,

for driving cloud had blotted the daylight out, but the swinging lamp

diffused a sickly radiance which fell on his comrade as Appleby bent

over his dripping bunk. Everything in the deckhouse was wet, as was

Niven's face, but though it was drawn and white his eyes were open.

"Not quite all smashed up yet," he said with a little smile.

Appleby felt almost dizzy with relief, and his voice shook a trifle as

he said, "But you are hurt, Chriss?"

"Well," said Niven feebly, though there was a little twinkle in his

eyes, "it wouldn't be astonishing if I was, but I think a good lie down

will put me right again. There was a big lump of the staysail under me,

and I fetched the top of the house on my hands and toes. Couldn't get

up just now, however, if I wanted to."

Appleby could think of nothing fitting to say, and patted his comrade's

shoulder while he turned his head away. His eyes were a trifle hazy,

and he felt that there are a good many things one cannot express in

speech.

"The Dutchman?" he said presently.

Niven seemed to shiver, and shook his head. "I don't know. Couldn't

take much notice of anything because I felt all in pieces myself just

then, but I saw him come down," he said. "He just seemed to crunch

up--as if he was an egg."

Lawson, who was sitting on his chest, made a gesture of impatience.

"Now you shut up and lie still," he said. "Any one would fancy you had

done enough to take a rest." Then he nodded to Appleby. "Get out. It's

quietness he wants, and it's not going to make anything any better to

remember what happened to the other fellow. I'll keep an eye on him,

and you needn't worry."

Appleby, who knew Lawson could be trusted to do this, went out, and it

was an hour or two later when he and the rest sat in the house again

over a big can of tea which the cook had by some means contrived to

supply them with. They still wore streaming oilskins, and the lamp that

swung above them cast flickers of smoky radiance across their wet faces,

while from outside came a muffled roar of wind and the crash of falling

water as the _Aldebaran_ lurched over the great smoking seas. Niven was

evidently a little better, and smiled, though his face was awry with

pain, when Appleby lifted his shoulders a little and handed him a

biscuit soaked in tea.

"It's nice yellow jellies and grapes I'd be eating if I was laid up at

home," said he.

"If you don't stop we'll make you," said one of the other lads. "Who

has got any business to talk of those things at sea? What did the old

man do to you?"

Niven grinned in a sickly fashion. "He asked me where I felt bad, and I

told him everywhere," he said. "Then he and the steward pulled the

clothes off me and prodded me with their fists. They didn't seem to

find anything broken, but I was sore all over, and I'd sooner be whacked

with a horse-girth than go through that again."

"Smacked with a horse-girth!" said Lawson, reflectively. "Now I've been

kicked--with sea boots--a good many times, but that would be a new

sensation. What does it feel like?"

"If you want to know you can ask Appleby," said Niven. "I fancy he

could tell you."

Appleby laughed, for he saw his comrade was recovering. "But what about

the Dutchman?" he said.

Lawson shook his head. "I only know the old man went forward to look at

him, and he's tolerably bad. He came down bang on his shoulder, you

see. Did the mate know he had only one arm that was any good to him,

Appleby?"

"Yes," said Appleby slowly. "He was there when the man hurt it, and

just before he went up I heard him tell him. I saw the mate double up

his fist too--and the Dutchman had to go."

There was silence for a moment or two, intensified by the roar of wind,

and the lads looked at one another with a curious grimness which seemed

out of place there in their young faces.

"If he doesn't get better it's manslaughter, any way," said somebody.

"Now we've had almost enough of this. What's to be done, Lawson?"

Lawson stared at the lamp for almost a minute before he answered. "If

the man comes round we can't do anything," he said. "Of course we and

the men could make a declaration about ill-usage at Vancouver, but the

old man would back the mate up and we'd only be quietly sat upon. If

the Dutchman dies it would be a little easier. The old man would have

to put down all about it in the log, but he'd fix it the nicest way and

then get two witnesses--the mate and the second mate--to sign it."

"Would the second mate do it?" said Appleby.

"I think he would have to," said Lawson dryly.

"Well," said one of the other lads, "where do we come in?"

"You," said Lawson, with a little, mirthless laugh, "don't come in at

all, but there's one chance yet. When the men are paid off the old man's

account of any death on board is read over, and they're asked if it's

all correct and if the man was ill-used at all. If they could only

stick to one story they'd get a hearing, and the Government would go

into the thing."

"That doesn't sound difficult," said Appleby.

Lawson shook his head. "I'm afraid it's more than they could do," he

said. "Every man would tell a different tale and get arguing with the

rest until nobody could make head or tail of it, and the skipper who

says nothing that isn't dragged out of him would come up on top again.

Still, of course, there is just a chance of them being listened to, and

that's going to make the mate a good deal nastier in the meanwhile."

Niven, who had lain silent, looked over his bunk. "He will not be nasty

to me very long. I've had enough of the brute already. One could get

ashore at Vancouver."

Lawson glanced at him impatiently. "Better shut up before you're

sorry," he said. "There's only one thing to do, and that's to leave the

old man to run the mate out quietly. He's a tolerably tough old nigger

himself, but I fancy this kind of thing is a little too much for him.

As I've told you before, there's very little use kicking about anything

when you go to sea."

Then there was once more silence as the unpleasant veracity was borne in

upon the rest. Nobody, it seemed, cared very much what became of them,

and there was no one they could appeal to. They must take what came,

and grin and bear it, however irksome it might be. The knowledge was

especially bitter to Niven, who had possibly been made too much of at

home, but Appleby had already a vague suspicion that in any walk of life

it would be much the same. Every man had rights, he knew, but he had

discovered that it is very little use to make speeches about them when

they are unobtainable, and generally wiser to wait in silence for an

opportunity and then stretch out a firm hand and take them. Some lads

find this out early, though there are men who never discover it at all,

and these are not infrequently a nuisance to everybody.

*CHAPTER VI*

*A FAIR WIND*

Niven, though severely bruised and shaken, recovered rapidly, and one

morning a fortnight after his injury sat under the partial shelter of

the weather-rail rubbing tar into a long strip of worn-out canvas with

his hands. He had more than a suspicion that the canvas would never be

used, and sitting still in a bitter wind while he dabbled his stiffened

fingers in the sticky mess was far from pleasant, but the mate

frequently found him work of that kind to do, and Niven knew that when

he gave an order it was not advisable to argue.

Appleby was sitting close beside him similarly occupied, and every now

and then a cloud of spray which swept the rail stung their faces and

rattled upon their oilskins. Icy water came on board, too, but because

they sat well aft they escaped the frothing deluges which poured over

the weather bow and sluiced down the slanted deck to lee. Here and

there a dripping man scrambled out of the way of them or clung fast to

something in the wilder lurches, for the _Aldebaran_ was still hammering

to windward under scanty sail.

There was, however, clear, cold sunlight, and the wet canvas swayed

across a patch of blue, while the lads could see the froth of the

rollers shine incandescent against the flashing green over the

weather-rail. The _Aldebaran_ was shouldering her way through them with

heavy plunges that buried her forecastle at times. Then she would swing

it up, streaming, high above the sea, and there was a general scramble

clear of the water which came splashing everywhere. The sunlight showed

that the men's faces were gaunt and worn. They had for more than a month

held out stubbornly, living for the most part on uncooked and soaked

provisions, toiling the watch through at shifting sail, and then

flinging themselves down in their drenched clothing only to be turned

out half-dazed by the sleep for which brain and body craved as the

screaming gale freshened again. Now they had, thanks to what the

steward had gleaned in the cabin and told the cook, reason to believe

that if the _Aldebaran_ could make a few more leagues to windward the

next day would see them round Cape Horn.

Still, they had been almost as near before only to be driven back to the

east again, and haggard faces were turned expectantly towards the hard

blueness athwart which the seatops heaved over the weather-rail.

Presently Appleby glanced up sharply as the shadow of a sail fell upon

him.

"Hallo!" he said, and there was a curious eagerness in his voice. "The

topsail leach has come between us and the sun."

"I don't see why that should please you," said Niven. "It only makes it

colder, and it's bad enough already, especially when you've had nothing

worth mentioning to eat for weeks."

"No?" said Appleby. "Well, if I'm right it means warm weather, dry

clothes, sound sleep when your watch is done, and the galley fire lit

all day."

Niven looked up. "Oh," he said with a little gasp. "The wind is backing

round--or is he only screwing her up a little?"

Both of them glanced from the straining canvas to the figure at the

wheel, and the eyes of all on deck were turned in the same direction,

for it was evident that only two things could have happened. Either the

helmsman was jamming the ship half-a-point closer to the wind, which was

unlikely, because the mate would have seen he sailed her as close as

possible before; or the wind was going round. As they watched, the

canvas swung further athwart the sun, and their hearts throbbed faster

because they knew it was the latter. In place of thrashing to windward

tack and tack, and frequently losing on one all they had made upon the

other, they were now sailing almost in the direction they desired to go.

"I wish I could see the compass," said Niven. "Still, the wind must be

backing southerly by the bearing of the sun. Why doesn't the old man

let her go while he can?"

It is probable that every man on deck was asking the same question, for

the heads of all were turned towards the poop, and nothing would have

induced one of them to speak when the skipper appeared out of the

companion. He stood quite still for several minutes, and then nodded to

the officer of the watch as though contented, but no one moved on deck

when he went below, and the attitude of the men suggested what they

felt. They were, it seemed, not round Cape Horn yet, and the

_Aldebaran_ still held on plunging through the white-topped rollers

close-hauled. Hour after hour dragged by, and all on board bore them in

tense expectancy, until at last, when the watch was changed again, the

skipper came forward to the edge of the poop with a little sour smile on

his face. He spoke ostensibly to the mate close by him, but it is

possible he meant his voice to carry further.

"Get a pull on the weather-braces, and the topgallants loosed. We'll

make a fair wind of it," he said.

The mate came forward shouting, and for once he was very willingly

obeyed. Both watches were on deck, for the one relieved had not left it

yet, and the men fell over each other in their eagerness to get at the

ropes, while Appleby felt his pulses throbbing and the blood surge to

his face, as he watched the figure aft pulling at the wheel.

Round went the long, slanting yards, stopped, swung further, and stopped

again, while the _Aldebaran_ hove herself more upright and shook the

salt wash from her as she brought the wind upon her quarter. Then there

was a scurrying of agile figures, stripped of their oilskins now, for

the high top-gallant yards, and when the loose canvas blew away from

them, wet and weary men broke into a breathless song as they swung and

fell about the feet of the masts. They had hoarse voices, and the lips

of some were rent and cracked. Their bodies were raw from the constant

lash of brine, but there was a light in their gaunt faces and the ring

of triumph in their song. Its words were senseless rubbish, but through

them the spirit of those who sang was clear, and it was the pride that

comes of a hardly-won victory. They had borne almost all that flesh and

blood could bear, and now they had won the gale they had defied and

beaten was their ally. The _Aldebaran_ seemed to know it, and swept

north-west faster at every roll, hurling off vast folds of froth from

her hove-up bows, while the foam seethed and flashed past, lapping in

places almost to her rail. Still, for a ship will carry more canvas

going free than she will close-hauled, her crew were not contented, and

while they coiled the ropes away still watched the motionless figure on

the poop expectantly.

Once more he raised a hand, and there was another scramble, more eager

than before, and a rush towards the weather-shrouds, while presently

great folds of canvas came dropping from the long lower yards. They

spread out in a vast curve from rail to rail, and the _Aldebaran_,

quivering to the drag of them, sped on faster than ever, with a wake

that swirled and seethed far back across the long seas that now came

rolling up behind her.

Then a Breton Frenchman solemnly danced upon the deck, and a little

Italian cackled with shrill laughter, while a half-articulate growl of

victory that was not a cheer went up from the British sailormen. They

were flying faster than any but a very fast steamer, away from cold and

wet and hunger, northwards towards the sun again.

For two days the _Aldebaran_ drove along, swept by spray, at a pace

which occasionally exceeded twelve miles an hour, and then, though her

decks dried up and the foam sank lower beneath her rail, the pace did

not diminish appreciably, for as the wind fell lighter there was a

crowding on of sail. The royals were shaken out in turn, stay-sails in

rows swelled between the masts, and while the long heave that was

smoother now and dazzlingly blue came rolling up on her beam, she swung

along, three towering spires of canvas above a froth-licked hull, with

her jibboom pointing to the midday sun. It grew warmer every day,

oilskins, pilot-coats and long boots were flung aside, wet berths and

saturated bedding dried, and there was no more dining on pulpy biscuit

because a sea had washed out the galley as well as the fire.

Then there might have been peace and contentment on board the

_Aldebaran_ had not the mate's temper apparently grown worse as the

weather grew finer, until the half-cowed, sullen crew were glad to crawl

away below out of the reach of his beady eyes when the watch was done.

They were kept hard at work at something all day long, chipping iron,

painting, scraping spars down, and the man who had only a bitter jibe

for the most willing and scurrilous abuse for the tired generally

contrived when nothing more unpleasant suggested itself that Niven or

Appleby should carry the tar pot, while the blood would surge to their

faces at the words which followed, if at any time they let fall one

splash of it where it was not wanted.

The work began as soon as there was light enough to see by, and was

never done. A good deal of it was brutal and much unnecessary, and it

went on without intermission under the scorching sun of the equator, and

was apparently no nearer finished when reaching in close-hauled one day

they had their first glimpse of the great, snow-crested mountains that

rise above the forests of Washington. Then the apprentices envied the

men who had only signed on to Vancouver, because they at least would

soon be free of the ceaseless small-persecution and hateful tyranny.

At last as they worked into the Straits of San Juan the pines of

Vancouver Island lifted themselves above the horizon, and a day or two

later the _Aldebaran_ came to an anchor off Port Parry, which is where

the warships lie and close to Victoria City. Vancouver, where she was

to unload, stands on the Canadian coast about a day's sail with a fair

wind further east, but the straits are sprinkled with islands and swept

by tides, and because the wind was easterly and the sky dimmed by smoke,

the skipper had gone ashore that morning to send off telegrams and if

possible engage a tug. He did not return all day, and when evening was

closing in Appleby and Niven sat outside the deckhouse, while the mate

stood up on the poop apparently to see if there was any signal from the

shore.

The evening was chilly, and a fresh breeze streaked the waters with a

haze of smoke from some great forest fire which drove in thin wisps

across the rising moon and now and then growing thicker blotted out the

dark pines ashore. The lads had been working hard helping to send down

the lighter canvas all day, and now they were aching in every limb.

They were also moody, for do what they would the mate's bitter tongue

had not spared them. Somebody was singing forward in the forecastle,

and now and then a burst of hoarse laughter came aft, for the men there

would be leaving the _Aldebaran_ in a day or two. Niven sighed a little

as he listened.

"Those fellows are well off. It's no wonder they're singing," he said.

"Things are getting worse every day, and I'm very sick of it, Tom."

Appleby laughed, but there was not much merriment in his face. "Of the

sea?"

"Well," said Niven slowly, "the sea is different from what I expected it

would be, but that's not what I mean."

"The mate then?"

Niven nodded. "Of course," he said. "Now, he stops with the ship, and

we don't know where we're going to from Vancouver. Lawson was telling

me the Company's ships are away sometimes four years together. Four

years of that mate, Tom. Just fancy it!"

Appleby's face grew a trifle grim. It was not an encouraging prospect,

and he could see no way of avoiding it.

"It does not sound nice," he said.

"No," said Niven savagely. "If there's no improvement--and I don't

expect there will be--I'm not going to put up with it." Then he glanced

at his companion. "Tom, you'll stand in with me?"

Appleby looked grave. "Don't be an ass, Chriss. Wait and see what can

be done when you go home."

Niven sat silent for almost a minute, and when he spoke his young face

was very determined. "The point is, when are we going home? If we sail

from here for England I'll try to put up with him, but if there's to be

two or three more years of it I'm going to make for the bush before she

leaves Vancouver. There's no use talking. I'm quite decided, and the

only question is whether you will come with me!"

Appleby, glancing at his comrade, saw that no arguments could persuade

him. Niven could be very obstinate, and Appleby had reasons for

believing that the other apprentices also intended slipping away.

"If you go I'll go too, but I don't want to," he said quietly. "You

see, there are good mates as well as brutes like this one, while I may

never get another chance if I throw away the one your father has given

me. I don't like the _Aldebaran_, but I still like the sea."

"The pater would find you a dozen better ones," said Niven eagerly, but

Appleby shook his head.

"I couldn't take another favour from him if I made a bad use of this

one."

Niven rose and moved once or twice wearily across the deck. "I'd get

him to make you. Then you're not coming?"

"Yes," said Appleby gravely. "Whatever you decide on I shall do, but

that will separate us very soon, because I will not ask your father to

find me another opportunity."

Niven stopped and stood still with indecision in his face, while his

voice was a trifle hoarse as he said, "Tom, you're a good fellow, and

ever since I knew you have done your best for me, but now--oh, it's just

because you're so decent you're stopping me putting an end to this

misery."

"I'm not sorry," said Appleby dryly. "If you go, I'm coming too. Only

when your father sends for you I shall stay out here and do anything I

can or go on board another ship as seaman."

Niven saw he was beaten, and sat down wearily. "Very well!" he said with

a little groan. "Perhaps something will happen, and I don't care what

it is. Anything would be better than--this--and I simply can't bear it

very much longer. Now the Dutchman's coming round the mate will be more

brutal than ever."

He said nothing further, and while he sat still with a hopeless face in

black dejection, the mate, who did not know all that he was doing, took

his affairs in hand. Coming forward along the deck he stopped before

them with a packet in his hand.

"Take the gig ashore, and put these letters in the post," he said.

"Wait for half-an-hour, and then if you see no sign of the skipper, come

off again. You can take Cally with you."

The lads were almost desperate, or they would not have done a foolish

thing, for Appleby did not stand up.

"It's not our watch, sir," he said.

The mate swung round and looked at him with a little glint in his eyes.

"You're talking again," he said. "If you're not on board the gig inside

five minutes, I'll have my answer ready for you."

Appleby rose up and touched his cap sardonically, but Niven was sullen.

"Very well, sir, but the gig's too big for us, and I don't know that we

can pull her back against the breeze," he said.

The mate moved a little nearer with an unpleasant smile in his face.

"The stream will sweep you off the land unless you do, and it should

help you to pull if you remember it," he said. "That reminds me, I want

Cally for something else."

Appleby saw that he had made a mistake again. Since he had spoken to the

skipper their persecutor had avoided violence and harassed them with a

vindictive cunning which left no room for any objection that would not

put them in the wrong. So far speech had only lost them the help of a

third hand who could have taken his turn at an oar and steered for them,

and he grasped Niven fiercely by the shoulder lest he should answer as

he turned away. The gig lay astern, and in another minute or two they

had climbed down into her, and casting off stepped the mast and ran up

the little sail. The wind would carry them ashore, but the gig though

light was nearly twenty feet long, and, while they could row tolerably

well, both knew it would cost them a strenuous effort to pull her off

again.

"He's a pig and a beast!" said Niven, hoarse with rage, as he sat aft

with the tiller in his hand while the boat swung over the little

splashing sea. "She's not going to fetch the ship under sail coming

back, and it will be no end of a fag to pull her, while I'm about done

with handling those staysails all day already."

Appleby said nothing, but his face was very sombre as he slacked the

sheet a little when a puff of spray flew over the weather gunwale, and

the brine lapped perilously near the opposite one. He saw that the

breeze was freshening, as an easterly wind often does at nightfall, and

did not anticipate any pleasure in rowing back again.

*CHAPTER VII*

*ADRIFT*

When Appleby and Niven came clattering down the beach it was growing

very cold and night was closing in. They had not found the skipper, and

a man had told them that the little tramway between Port Parry and

Victoria had stopped running. The lads had also been working hard in

the sunshine all day, and because the mate had given them no time to

change the light clothes they stood in they shivered a little in the

chilly breeze. It came down moaning across the dark pines, crisping the

land-locked harbour where two big warships lay, and when they stood on

the pebbles there was a clear ringing of bugles.

"Half-an-hour, to the minute," said Appleby. "There's a tolerably stiff

breeze."

"You timed us?" said Niven. "Of course, you would. Now, I could never

have remembered it."

Appleby laughed a trifle grimly. "Yes," he said. "You see, I didn't

want to stay here any longer than was necessary with the wind

freshening. It's going to be quite hard enough work to get back as it

is."

Niven groaned a little as he helped to thrust off the boat, for he was

very tired, and his limbs had stiffened with the cold, while as he was

about to step on board a Canadian came sauntering down the beach.

"Are you two lads going off to the barque out there?" he asked.

[Illustration: "'ARE YOU TWO LADS GOING OFF TO THE BARQUE OUT THERE?'"]

Appleby nodded, and the man glanced towards the swaying trees and the

little streaks of froth that showed white against the dimness out at

sea. "It's a tolerably big contract," he said reflectively. "You've

got to go?"

"Yes," said Appleby. "If you knew what our mate was like you wouldn't

ask that question."

The Canadian laughed. "I figure I can guess," he said. "Well, now, you

pull up well to windward along the shore where you'll get less breeze

and smoother water, and when it strikes you you're far enough to head

her across pull fit to split your boots--but don't miss her."

Appleby saw it was good advice, and did his best to follow it, but his

back was aching and his arms were stiff; while when Niven missed a

stroke, which he did not infrequently, the wind drove them a trifle

further off shore before they could pull the gig's head round again.

She had been built for four men to row, and while they would have no

difficulty in propelling her in smooth water it was different when with

the wind against them every little lurch checked her speed. Still, they

toiled for half-an-hour or so, making no great progress that Appleby who

watched the trees ashore could see, until Niven groaned.

"I'm almost done," he said. "If you don't head across soon I'll double

up before we fetch the _Aldebaran_."

Appleby glanced at the shore, and then at the barque's riding light

blinking fitfully half-a-mile away.

It was no great distance, but the breeze that blew slantwise off the

shore would be on their side while they headed for her, and if the boat

made much leeway they could not reach her. Nor did he fancy they would

have the strength to drive the gig back to windward if they once drifted

astern of her.

"Shake yourself together, Chriss, and we'll make a shot at it," he said.

Niven said nothing, but he bent his back, and for ten minutes they

strained every sinew while the boat lurched and plunged on the little

splashing sea as they drew out from the land. Cold as it was the

perspiration dripped from them, and the oars slipped in their greasy

palms, while both were gasping when a haze of smoke that blotted out

everything drove down upon them.

"Head her up a little," said Appleby when the blinking light faded.

"Put all you're good for into it, and row. There's nothing but the

Pacific before us if we miss the _Aldebaran_."

For another five minutes Niven rowed desperately, his heart thumping and

his breath coming in half-stifled gasps, while the boat plunged more

viciously with the sea upon her bow. Then he missed his stroke as the

moon came through, and Appleby could not check a little groan of dismay.

They were close to the _Aldebaran_ and could see her plainly as a cold

blast drove the haze away, but she was well up on their weather instead

of under their lee, and he knew it was beyond the power of any two

worn-out lads to reach her against the wind.

"It's no use," said Niven hoarsely. "I can't do any more. Shout if you

can, though we'd be out of sight before they could get the other boat

over."

They made the most noise they could, but it is difficult to shout when

exhausted by a strenuous effort, and it is more than possible that the

splash of the sea and sighing of the wind drowned their strained voices.

Nor is the low dusky shape of a boat easy to discern from a ship's deck

on a hazy night. In any case, there was no answer, and for a minute the

lads watched the three tall spars and strip of hull that rose black

against the moon slide away from them--and that was the last they ever

saw of the _Aldebaran_. Then another gust brought down the haze again,

and while the smoky greyness drifted past them they were alone.

"I can scarcely pull," said Niven. "Do you think we could fetch

ashore?"

"I don't," said Appleby with grim directness. "Still, we can try, and

it's the only thing we can do."

They rowed for about twenty minutes, the splashing strokes growing

slower while the plunging grew sharper, and then stopped again as the

haze thinned a little. The blink of the barque's riding light was no

longer perceptible, nor could they see anything of the shore.

"Well?" said Niven dejectedly.

Appleby laughed, though his voice was not mirthful and there was a

curious tremor in it. "You wanted to leave the _Aldebaran_--and I fancy

you've got your wish," he said. "We're blowing out from land, and

there's quite a sea getting up."

"Yes," groaned Niven. "That's plain enough. What are we going to do?"

"I don't know," said Appleby. "It's not blowing much, and the proper

thing would be to keep her lying head to with the oars until the

morning. Then we'd see the land. If we kept pulling easy she wouldn't

drift very much. The difficulty is that we're not fit to do it."

"No," said Niven decisively. "No more rowing for me. That's not going

to work, anyway. What's the next best thing?"

"Make a sea anchor with the mast and sail and a piece of iron hanging

from it, and lie to it with a long cable," said Appleby who had been

reading some of Lawson's books.

"Rot again!" said Niven. "We haven't got any iron, and the few yards of

rope forward wouldn't be half enough."

"Then," said Appleby with a little hollow laugh, "we can only let her

drift, unless the sea gets too big for it. I don't feel like rowing any

more myself."

They threw the oars in, and sat down out of the wind on the floorings,

feeling very lonely, for an hour or so. The gig was long and narrow with

only a few inches of her bottom in the water, and the wind did what it

would with her. Now it drove her sideways, now it whirled her round,

and all the while the dark slopes of water rose higher and the night

grew colder. At last when a little splash of brine fell on Appleby's

face he rose to his knees and saw a yellow flicker with a green blink

beneath it swinging towards them through the haze.

"Get your oar out--quick! There's a steamer coming up," he said.

Niven obeyed him, but it was another thing to pull the oar. Their tired

arms had stiffened, and it is somewhat difficult to row in tumbling

water. The wind would also blow the gig's head round in spite of them,

and little frothy splashes came in over the bow, but the lights were

growing brighter, and when at last they stopped rowing a big, shadowy

bow was forging through the water close in front of them.

Twice they sent up a breathless shout, while the bow drew out into a

length of dusky hull. They could see the double row of deckhouses

showing dimly white, and the big, black funnel high above them, but only

the thumping of engines answered their cry, and in another moment the

boat reeled and plunged as the steamer's stern went by. Then a little

seething rush of foam lapped in over the gunwale, and Niven groaned.

"The brutes--they could have heard us if they had wanted to," he said

with hoarse unevenness, and Appleby saw what was going to happen by the

way his comrade flung in his oar.

"Hold up!" he said sternly. "Shake it off, and stiffen your back,

Chriss. If you're going to give up we can't do anything."

"It can't make any difference," said Niven with hopeless apathy. "You

know as well as I do that we can do nothing now."

It was not astonishing that his courage should desert him. He was worn

out, and already the gig was taking more than splashes in over her

gunwale, for they had blown well out from land and the freshening breeze

had raised a little frothing sea in the more open water. It appeared

very possible that the craft would roll over presently. Appleby,

however, though very near it, was not quite beaten yet.

"That's where you're wrong," said he. "We can get a little sail on her

and keep her running. There's not sea enough to hurt her when she's

going before it, and we're tolerably sure to pick up a ship or see the

land to-morrow."

It was a relief to have something to do, and Niven felt a very little

easier in mind when they had stepped the mast, half-hoisted the sail and

baled the boat dry. She ran well as long, flat-floored boats do, and,

though there was usually a sea that looked unpleasantly big following

close behind her, no more water came on board. Niven lay on the

floorings by his comrade's feet where the stern kept the wind and spray

off him, and Appleby sat at the tiller doing his best to keep the boat

before the sea, and watching the froth swirl past her. It raced forward

faster than they were travelling, rose above the gunwale on either hand,

and then surged on into the darkness and was lost again. He had only

this and the chill of the wind that swept over his shoulder to guide

him, and by and by, when the gig swerved a little, in place of seething

past, the foam lapped into her. Then Niven would stir himself and bale

to free the boat of the water before more came on board her. He had,

however, no great difficulty in doing it, because a buoyant craft of

that kind will, so long as one can keep her straight, run before a

tolerably nasty sea without shipping much water, but both lads knew they

were driving four or five miles further from the land every hour.