THE BROTHERS

It is popularly believed that twins grow up in mutual love and

loyalty--and, when properly reared, this is not only probable,

but almost imperative--but these two grew up in mutual hatred and

antagonism; even though in face, form, brain, mind, and soul they

were as alike as the proverbial peas in a pod. They received the same

limited education in the same schools and classes, and up to the period

of this story were never apart; not because either so chose, but

because of the common influences of their environment, which decreed

the same paths and channels of thought and initiative.

They were orphans, and had their home with an illiterate stepfather,

whose early mistake of punishing one child for the fault of the other

raised the first barrier between them. The guilty boy was amused at the

mistake; but the victim, smarting with pain and a sense of injustice,

could not appreciate the humor of the situation, and waited for a

reversal of conditions, which, not happening immediately, he brought

about by a deliberate offense and an accusation of the other.

Then followed reprisal met with reprisal and in time each boy hated the

other with a hatred that dominated all other emotions, and, inspired

by previous grievance, would hesitate at no dishonorable and unboyish

trick whereby he might create trouble for him. It was genuine community

of soul; for it manifested itself in other and more pleasing ways, and

without mutual prompting. If one felt like playing hooky, the other

felt the impulse, and they would come together; but only to separate

with snarls. If one liked another boy, the twin shared the liking; and,

conversely, each disliked the enemy of the other, though never to the

point of defending him. They fought each other often; but never was

victory given to either. Each battle was a draw, and supremacy could

not be established; for neither would surrender until the other was

ready to.

So conditioned, physically, mentally, and morally, the cumulative

effect of the vicarious suffering of each brought them to the murder

mind when, at nineteen, they fell in love with the same maiden. The

episode need only be mentioned. They made love in the same way, and the

maiden repulsed each with the same catholic impartiality. Neither might

have won her alone; but both thought so, and in the furious battle with

fists, stones, and clubs that followed they received injuries which,

with the stepfatherly horse-whipping that came to them, laid them up

for a week. Had they been endowed with a sense of humor, or had they

been separated long enough to acquire one, they might have been spared

the soul-consuming malignancy that now possessed them; as it was, each

rose from bed while hardly able to walk, and, resolved to get away

from the other, ran away from home, stowing away in the same ship, a

three-skysail yarder bound to Sydney.

These things I learned from the maiden referred to, whose father

commanded the big ship, and from later inquiry in their native village.

From now on, however, they were more or less under my immediate

attention; for I was second mate of that ship.

Mr. Butterell, the first mate, hauled Bill out of the paint locker

about the same time that I found Tom in the lazarette, and we brought

the two together under the break of the poop for the captain's

inspection and decision. It was plain from their faces as they eyed

each other that neither had expected to find the other on board;

but, after glaring at each other for a moment, they assumed a moody

indifference, which left them only for an instant when a low voice on

the poop above said, "Why, Papa! The Landon boys!"

I was surprised myself--though agreeably so--for I did not know that

Mabel was to make the voyage with us, and, looking up to where she

stood with her father, I received a nod and a smile.

A little here, in parenthesis, about myself. I was twenty-four, and had

sailed four voyages with Captain Merwin, the last two as second mate,

mainly to keep in touch with this girl who, as a child of fourteen,

had been my shipmate on the first. And because of this I felt a secret

disappointment that the captain had not signed me first mate on this

occasion instead of second; for I had entertained a youthful hope and

ambition to present myself to her as her father's first officer when

we met again. But the highly efficient, handsome, and self-confident

Mr. Butterell had forestalled me in this; though I did not dream at

the time that he would also forestall me with Mabel, or that the two

loutish stowaways had attempted to.

They were tall, well built, and with a look of crafty intelligence in

their faces, which, with their embarrassment and their ill-fitting

clothes, bespoke the village loafer. Only by these clothes could they

be told apart. They were exactly alike, each with the same red hair,

high cheekbones, and squinting green eyes, and each chewed tobacco and

spat on the deck in a way to bring disapproval to the face of the gray

old skipper.

"You are stowaways," he said, "and, as my daughter informs me,

brothers, from my own home town. Why have you done this?"

"To get away from him," grunted Tom, jerking his thumb toward Bill. "I

hate him like so much pizen."

"And you?" asked the skipper of Bill.

"I didn't know I'd find him here," answered Bill with a vindictive

squint at Tom, "or I wouldn't ha' come."

"Twin brothers," commented the captain, "and on bad terms! Well, you

will have little time to quarrel aboard this ship, and plenty of time

to make friends. It is too late to get rid of you; so you must work.

Put them in separate watches, Mr. Butterell."

"Yes, sir," answered Mr. Butterell, reaching for Bill. "I choose you,"

he added, as his grip closed on Bill's collar. Then he swung him at

arm's length aft toward the poop then forward with all his strength,

hurling him, rolling and scrambling wildly, fully thirty feet along the

deck. Then, with a quick, self-satisfied smirk up at those on the poop,

he repeated the feat upon Tom.

Now a few words about Mr. Butterell. He was, all in all, the most

efficient executive officer I had ever sailed with. He knew his

business, from knotting a rope yarn up to masting a ship. In shortening

sail he could get canvas in as though it obeyed an intelligent

knowledge of his wish; but it was really because of his wonderful voice

and vocabulary. He never missed or repeated an order, and could send

his words against a gale from the poop to the weather fore earing as

distinctly and articulately as he would read off morning sights to the

skipper.

Unlike myself, a graduate of the schoolship St. Mary, he had worked his

way up from the forecastle; yet he had mastered more of navigation

than do most merchant skippers, and could figure great circle sailing

and take star and lunar sights. Besides, as I learned on further

association with him, he possessed a conversational power rare in

seafaring men, but developed in him by wide reading and wide-open eyes.

Added to this, he had the build and strength of a giant, the agility

of a panther, the fistic skill of a prize-fighter--and the vanity of a

spoiled child.

He seemed unable to perform the most commonplace action without a

half-involuntary and quick look around to notice some possible token

of approval, and in the absence of his social or professional equals

would seek it from the men, even from the Chinese cook. And with this

weakness was allied another, still more incompatible with his assured

mental and physical strength--an active hatred for the class of men

from which he had risen. It was the first of these that had prompted

that quick smirk toward the poop, and the second that impelled him to

follow the two human projectiles and, with kicks, clouts, and forceful

language, hasten their progress forward.

It was nearly four bells of the first dog-watch, or, more explicitly,

about ten minutes to six in the evening, of the first day out, and

though the watches had not yet been chosen half the crew had gone to

supper at three bells, when the day's work was done, and now, having

finished, had struggled out of the forecastle lighting their pipes.

Also the captain, his daughter, and Mr. Butterell had eaten supper; but

the rest of the men and myself would not have ours until four bells.

Hence, for the time, all hands were on deck to witness the breaking in

of the stowaways.

I could see no approval in the faces of the men as they watched the

brutal spectacle, and in Mabel's, as I glanced upward, I saw horror and

fright; but in Captain Merwin's face was nothing to indicate approval

or disapproval. My own, however, must have reflected the strong disgust

that I felt; for the captain, seizing his daughter's arm, said, "Come,

Mabel," and led her aft.

"Afraid," I muttered bitterly, "to antagonize his fancy first mate!"

For Captain Merwin was a kindly man, and I had often heard him correct

his officers for assaulting the men.

The exhibition of prowess went merrily on, Mr. Butterell using the

helpless youths like billiard balls, knocking one against the other

and frequently making a carom against the rail. But at the main hatch,

after a peculiarly successful fist play in which both brothers struck

the rail and clung to it, Mr. Butterell turned his head quickly, looked

aft with the smirking expectancy of his face, and, finding the audience

for which he had performed no longer at the break of the poop, gave

over the play, and started aft with his face as sober as my own.

And before he had taken three steps one of the brothers--I could not

tell which at the distance--wrenched an iron belaying pin from the

rail and hurled it at his head. It missed; but continued on a flat

trajectory to the cabin, from which it rebounded after making an

inch dent and whirled forward again and over the lee rail. Had Mr.

Butterell's head stopped it, he would never have moved or spoken again.

He wheeled when the pin whizzed by him, and with a bound put himself

between the two and the forecastle; for each had turned forward.

"Who threw that belaying pin?" he said quietly but menacingly.

"He throwed it; I didn't," answered one, pointing to the other.

"He lies!" retorted the accused one. "He throwed it himself."

"I lie, do I?"

"Yes, you lie!"

And then they were at each other's throats. Forgetting the common

enemy, they clenched tightly and whirled about the deck, bending

this way and that, striving to trip each other, striking with short

uppercuts, and even attempting to bite. But at this the interested men

forward crowed aft with sober faces, and Mr. Butterell, sensing their

mood, stepped jauntily past the fighters and came aft with an amused

smile on his face. Before he reached my vicinity I saw the men part the

two and lead them forward.

"Did you," said Mr. Butterell to me, his smile leaving him as he looked

at me, "did you, I say, see which one threw that pin?"

"I saw it thrown, sir," I answered; "but I could not tell which one

threw it."

"And wouldn't tell me if you could!" he sneered. "I can see that in

your face."

"Mr. Butterell," I said as calmly as was possible, "if I knew which one

threw it, I should tell you; for their unbrotherly conduct just now

destroyed what sympathy I may have felt for them."

"Sympathy for them!" he exploded. And now I knew the animus of his

heckling of me--his audience was again looking down at us. "Sympathy

for them!" He shook one finger under my nose. "Now I'll tell you, young

fellow," he continued, "before we go any further, that I'm first mate

of this craft and I'll dictate the sympathies of any man under me!"

"And I'm second," I retorted hotly, "with a right to sympathize with

whom I like! And take your hand away from my face, Mr. Butterell!"

* * * * *

Let me forestall any sympathy I may have aroused for myself. I am not

the hero of this story. There is a heroine, but no hero; for neither

the mild-natured Captain Merwin, half hypnotized by the dashing Mr.

Butterell into a surrender of his principles, Mr. Butterell, actuated

by the cheapest motives of vanity and self-love, nor myself, embittered

by disappointment, jealousy, and other unworthy emotions--none of us,

I say, acted a heroic part from beginning to end. Mr. Butterell took

his hand away from my face, as I had demanded; but it became a fist and

came back.

I parried the blow and struck back at his face; but it was like

parrying a battering ram and striking a stone wall. It was the only

blow I struck in that fight, if fight it may be called. He was larger,

heavier, and quicker than myself, and soon I felt his fist crashing

between my eyes, and my world went out in a blinding flash of light. I

came to in a few moments, I think, and found myself in the lee scuppers

with Mabel bending over me, her face all sympathy and kindliness. I

could barely see it between my closing eyelids; but could also see

Mr. Butterell standing up to windward with Captain Merwin, laughingly

explaining his code of ethics. "Yes, sir," he was saying. "I consider

that there's less difference between your second mate and the dubs I

kicked forward than between myself and a captain. That goes, Captain

Merwin, or you can put me aboard the first inbound ship!"

I struggled to my feet and, pushing past Mabel, approached the two as

the captain answered, "Yes, yes, Mr. Butterell, I understand; but I am

sorry, very sorry. I had hoped--I hope there will be no more fighting."

"No, sir," I broke in rather insanely, "there'll be no more fighting

with fists, I promise you that. But let me say to you, sir," I faced

Mr. Butterell, "that there's less difference between you and a dead

man than there is between you and a captain. If you ever strike me

again, I'll kill you, if I have to knife you through your window while

you are asleep."

Then, as though it were a deathknell, four bells struck at the wheel.

I spoke loudly in my rage, and pain, and blindness--for I could not see

them now--and I know my words rang through the ship from end to end,

and must have been heard by the listening crew, for a few responsive

whoops came from forward. But also came a shivery "Oh, oh!" from Mabel,

and stern words from the captain.

"Tut, tut, Mr. Rogers!" he said. "That will do! You are setting a bad

example to the men. Go to your room, bathe your eyes, and get your

supper. If you cannot stand watch at eight bells, I will stand watch

for you; but no more of this talk of killing! I did not think it of

you!"

And, to the sound of Mr. Butterell's soft, derisive chuckling, he half

led, half pushed me into the companion to my room on the starboard side

of the passage. With the exception of the log desk in the mate's room,

the two apartments were similar, each with a window looking out on the

main deck, and another, over the berth opening into the alley. I could

not eat, and as I crawled blindly into the berth, like a bad boy sent

supperless to bed, and opened the window to let air in on my fevered

face, I could not help thinking how easy it would be to carry out my

threat. In imagination I did so; but I was not yet sane.

While few men pass through life without at least one sound thrashing

from schoolmate or fellow man, still fewer, I think, receive that

thrashing under such peculiarly humiliating conditions as those

attending mine, and fewer yet, at my age, know that vengeance,

properly disregarded, will take care of itself. So I fumed through

the dog-watch, listening to the hateful sound of the mate's voice--now

chatting with Mabel, again raised in a roaring behest to the men--and

to the still more hateful sound of Mabel's musical laughter at his

sallies, until seven bells, when he called the men to the pumps,

which, whether the ship leaks or not, are manned at this time of day.

Then the captain came with the steward, prescribed remedies from the

medicine chest, and gave me such fatherly, grieved, and reprehensive

admonishment as to irritate me past all silence and endurance.

"Look out, sir," I said at last, "that you don't get yours!"

"What do you mean, sir?" he asked sternly as he drew back from me. "Do

you threaten me, Mr. Rogers?"

"No, captain, I do not," I answered. "I mean that he has practically

threatened you. I heard him claim equality with you in your presence,

after picking this quarrel with me and then likening me to the

stowaways. I am your second mate. He will treat you the same, sir, when

it suits him."

"Nonsense, young man!"

"No nonsense about it, captain!" I raved. "There'll be trouble aboard

this ship yet, trouble that'll be none o' my making. Why didn't you

ship a Bengal tiger and be done with it? You could ha' got one cheaper

than a mate's pay for the passage."

"I begin to think you resent my shipping any kind of mate, except

yourself."

"Or why didn't you go to a drygoods store, if you wanted a ladykiller

to fool your daughter," I continued, forgetting the "sir" in my anger

and jealousy.

"My daughter? What do you mean, sir, by such reference to my daughter?"

"Oh, haven't you caught on yet, Captain Merwin?" I asked, as

recklessly and sarcastically as an unlicked schoolboy. "Not twelve

hours on board, and he not only knocks me out, but makes love over my

window to the girl I've worked and waited for since I saw her as a

child. What d'you s'pose, captain, that I've stuck to this ship for? To

have everything taken by him, and then remain satisfied? Well, I s'pose

I'll have to be satisfied. He's evidently just the kind of man she

likes. Some women prefer a brute to a man."

I paused for lack of breath, and Captain Merwin remained silent for

a moment or two; then he said quietly, "You are unfit to talk or to

think, much less to work. I will choose your men and stand your watch

until you are well. Meanwhile, go to sleep. I will apprise my daughter

of your opinion of her."

But as he left my room I felt that he would not need to. Through my

open window came Mr. Butterell's gleeful snicker and the soft murmur of

Mabel's voice as they moved away.

I was able to see in three days, and returned to duty, first offering

to Captain Merwin from my cooler and saner viewpoint an apology for

my manner, which he graciously accepted. But I made no apology to Mr.

Butterell, nor even a withdrawal of my threat, preferring to let it

hang over him as a possible deterrent. As it was a "watch and watch"

ship, we met only at eight bells, to report the course, distance

run, and the happenings of the last four hours, so that our strained

relations did not matter. And that these relations should not suffer

further straining, Captain Merwin, seeing me hopeless, decreed that the

mate's log desk be placed in the passage between our rooms, so that I

could enter up the log slate at the end of my watch without trespassing

upon his atmosphere.

As for Mabel, she had partaken of my blindness; she did not see me,

even when she looked at me. But this gave me a larger opportunity to

look at her, a dismal pleasure which I enjoyed to the utmost.

I cannot describe in detail the peculiar grace, and charm, and beauty

with which this girl appealed to me. All men know, and all men at some

time in their lives invest some one woman with such attributes, which,

perhaps, others cannot see. As a child, with yellow hair and sea-blue

eyes, Mabel Merwin had seemed to me a creature lent from Heaven to

lead me upward; now matured to perfect womanhood, her sea-blue eyes

the same, but her hair darkened to a golden bronze and her creamy

complexion to an orange tint by sun and wind, she was more than ever

one of another world, unable to descend to my own. For mine was a world

of outer and under darkness, of watch and worry, of work and dirt, of

profane, hateful, jealous, and murderous thought which, without knowing

it, I shared with the twin brothers. I could understand the baleful

glitter in their eyes when they looked at the mate; but, uninformed at

the time, nothing of the hungry adoration with which they regarded the

girl.

They were in separate watches, slept in separate forecastles, and did

not meet except in the dog-watches, when the crew--an exceptionally

fine and well-behaved body of men--policed them and kept them from

fighting. In other respects they did well. Poorly educated, yet they

were splendid material from which to develop the hardy, enduring

deep-water sailor, and they advanced rapidly.

Tom was in my watch, and received some tutelage from me; but I am

positive that Bill, in the other watch, got nothing from the mate

but kicks, cuffs, and abuse. Yet he seemed to absorb something from

his own brother; for, side by side, yet without speaking, they

acquired proficiency; until, when each knew the ropes, could box the

compass, steer, and go aloft to a skysail the captain called them aft,

complimented them, and placed them on the articles under pay. Then they

steered a regular trick, and drew clothing from the slop chest--also

sheath knives, which every skipper will deny to a bad crew and accord

to a good; for, worn outside all clothing, they are the handiest tools

aboard ship. Tom and Bill wore theirs as proudly as the ablest seaman

we had. But, with clothing alike, it was harder than ever to tell them

apart.

We were now down off the Cape and had begun the long eastering on the

fortieth parallel. Captain Merwin, as was usual with him when his

officers and crew had settled into place, had retired to his world of

books and study, leaving, except the working out of morning sights, the

navigation, and the handling of the ship, to the mate. Also, it seemed,

he had left to him the welfare of his daughter; for Mr. Butterell

devoted to her all the time he could spare from his work, and would

even remain up in his watch below to talk with her.

As for her, she seemed to enjoy his society, would talk with him by the

hour, watch him with interest as he would stand at the break of the

poop bellowing orders to the men, and respond to his inevitable smirk

with the sweetest of smiles. She gave me never a look, and, as the

captain seldom spoke to me now, and the mate not at all except in the

way of work, my sense of isolation had so grown upon me that I resolved

this passage would be my last with Captain Merwin.

In this rebellious mood I lay smoking in my berth one second dog-watch,

waiting for eight bells and listening to the mate's sallies and Mabel's

laughter through the open window of my room, and to an occasional sharp

word of command to Bill, who, at the wheel, was making hard work of

steering. Though it was southern summer and warm, a half-gale blew

from the starboard quarter, and this, with the following sea, would

have taxed the powers of a better helmsman than Bill. But, instead

of sending such a better man to relieve Bill, Mr. Butterell chose to

heckle the poor greenhorn until, as I could see by ranging the clouds

through my window, the ship was yawing frightfully, two points each

side of her course, and in danger of broaching to or going by the lee.

Some skippers and mates never learn that bad steering is not improved

by criticism, and when eight bells struck I went on deck, angry and

disgusted with the purblind bully.

I found the ship staggering along under an unnecessary and unwise press

of after canvas, the mate still berating Bill, who was desperately

heaving on the wheel, and Mabel seated in a deck chair on the weather,

or starboard, quarter. Following me along the lee alley came the twin

brother Tom to relieve Bill at the wheel; but before allowing him to

take the spokes I steadied the ship myself. Then I relinquished the

spokes to Tom and turned officially to relieve the mate.

But he had other matters on his mind. Collaring Bill before he could

give the course to his brother, he hurled him violently against the

lee quarter rail, then followed and drove him, with kicks and punches,

forward along the alley.

"Now, then, you long-jawed farmer," he shouted to the cowering man,

"up aloft wi' you! Up the lee rigging you go, and over the lee futtock

rigging, to the upper topsail yard, and out the lee yardarm! Hear me?

The lee upper topsail yardarm, where you keep a lookout till four

bells."

"Yes, sir," answered Bill in a curious throaty voice as he scrambled

into the rigging.

"And when the bells strike, you answer them, d'you hear? You sing out,

'One bell--all's well! Two bells--all's well!' and so on. Hear?"

"I hear," snarled Bill, "and by Gawd I'll have your life for this!"

Mr. Butterell's life for a second time had been threatened on board

that ship, and there was an explosiveness in the words, "I'll have your

life for this!" that indicated their sincerity. Then followed a volley

of village billingsgate as Bill made the hard climb on the slackened

rigging, and Mabel rose from her seat; but the mate's answer silenced

Bill, and she resumed it.

"Here!" he said, picking up Bill's knife, which had evidently jolted

out of its sheath in the fracas. "This is what you want? I'll put it

right here, on the house over my window. You can knife me when I'm

asleep, and save your friend the trouble." Then he placed the knife

carefully within the covering board of the house, and came aft with his

smirk, strongly visible in the moonlight.

I was standing beside Tom watching his steering--for he was getting as

nervous over it as his brother--and directly in front of Mabel's chair.

But I was not yet in charge of the deck.

"Mr. Butterell," said the girl calmly as he approached, "I must ask you

not to arouse the men to such language as I have just been compelled to

listen to. I am not accustomed to it."

The smirk left his face and it took on a scowl as he realized my

presence. "Why, Miss Merwin," he stammered. "I didn't suppose--"

"That is all, Mr. Butterell!" she interrupted. "I do not care to argue."

"Course due east," he growled, turning to me.

"Due east, sir," I answered.

"And keep that mutt aloft till four bells. If he fails to answer the

bells, keep him aloft the whole watch."

"Is that all, sir? Is the watch relieved?"

"Watch is relieved, all right. No need o' mustering and counting this

moonlight night. You have the deck now. Watch out!"

"Yes, sir," I answered; then, stepping into the weather alley, I

sent my voice forward, "Weather main- and cro'-jack clew-garnets and

buntlines," I shouted, "and come aft here, some o' you, and take in

this spanker!"

"What are you taking in the spanker for?" asked the mate as I resumed

my position beside Tom, ready to aid him if necessary.

"Do you want charge of the deck again, sir?" I answered. "It's one

man's job."

"Leave the spanker on her. Haul up your clews, if you like," he said.

Then he began a short pacing back and forth before the wheel, evidently

working himself into a rage that was based on the girl's rebuff. He

continued this pacing until the men, under the boatswain of the watch,

had hauled up the weather clews, which allowed the wind to impinge

upon the foresail. Then, seeing that Tom made easier work of the

steering--even though, because of the spanker, he steered with the

wheel nearly hard up--Mr. Butterell was ready for an explosion.

"You look out, young fellow!" he said, halting me as I moved toward the

weather alley. "I'll take the conceit out o' you yet!"

I looked him squarely in the eyes. I do not know that Mabel's rebuke

had heartened me. I only remembered that I had lost her regard, that I

had lost my skipper's good will, and that the last five years of work

and effort, as far as advancement was concerned, had been wasted.

"Take care, sir," I said, quietly, "and do not forget the conditions

under which I have allowed you to live this long!"

Then, in a cold rage, I turned my back on him and took my place at the

forward end of the alley, where I could stand my watch in touch with

both ends of the ship. He did not follow, and soon I heard him talking

amicably with Mabel.

I did not look aft, as I could gauge Tom's steering by the swing of the

fore yard against the few stars showing in the strong moonlight, and I

noticed that the men forward were seeking sheltered and shady spots to

doze away the watch--as is always permitted in easy ships--and that the

lookout on the forecastle deck was pacing back and forth, wide awake.

All was well with the ship, and with me, except for the irritating

conversation on the quarter.

The talk continued until three bells had struck--and with each

striking of the bell Bill aloft had obediently answered--then the mate

shouldered his way past me and went to his room, leaving the girl still

seated in the chair. I did not go aft again until nearly four bells,

when I went to take the reading of the patent log at the taffrail. As

I passed the girl she half rose, as though to speak to me; then, as I

moved sullenly on, sank back in her chair. A glance into the binnacle

showed me the ship on her course, and a glance at Tom showed him with

his left shoulder braced against a spoke, steering by easing the wheel

down and painfully heaving it up. I looked aloft at the swelling

canvas, noticed that Bill sprawled over the lee upper topsail yard,

and saw that nothing could be done in the way of bracing the yards.

The spanker should have come in; for, with the ship griping like this,

she would have broached to in ten seconds if Tom lost his grip on the

wheel. But the mate had forbidden it, and I let it stand.

I took the reading of the log, and again passed stiffly before Mabel,

going forward again by the weather alley, down the steps, and into the

companionway to the desk in the passage, where I jotted down on the log

slate the happenings of the watch. I could hear Mr. Butterell snoring

heavily in his room on the lee, or port, side, and, wondering at his

utterly nerveless makeup in being able to go to sleep so readily after

a fit of anger, I closed the slate and turned toward the door.

At this moment a hoarse, guttural, hair-raising scream rang out,

followed instantly by another in a higher key, and I sprang out,

looking wildly about me for the cause. Mabel lay prone on the deck at

the foot of the lee steps and I reached her at a bound. There was no

blood nor marks, nothing to show what had hurt her and caused her to

scream, and I stood up, bewildered. The men forward had wakened, and

some were coming aft haltingly. I called to them, to question them,

when out of the companion door burst the captain in his pajamas.

"What's happened?" he asked excitedly. "My girl screamed! What is it?"

"I do not know, sir," I answered. "I heard her scream from the log

desk, and found her here."

He examined the unconscious girl, then said, "She has only fainted, I

think. Call the mate and the steward. We must get her below."

For the first time since Mr. Butterell had joined the ship I opened the

door of his room and looked in. He lay face up in his berth beneath the

open window, with the handle of a sheath knife sticking up from his

chest. It had been driven home, and as I looked, horror-stricken at

the sight, four bells struck at the wheel, and Bill's voice came from

aloft, "Four bells, and all's well!"

Twenty minutes later I was locked in my room, charged by the excited

Captain Merwin with murdering the mate. "Find the motive; find the

man!" he had stormed. He had heard me threaten again through his window

as he was undressing for bed, and nothing that I could say as to

another man's threatening, too, had the slightest effect. His daughter

had evidently seen, and had fainted from the shock. When she recovered

she would, no doubt, so testify.

With the boatswain standing my watch, I sat there until midnight; then,

as the other boatswain relieved him, I crawled into my berth, but not

to sleep. The problem would not permit it; for it was a problem that

would not solve. But, in my casting about for a solution, I was forced

to exonerate Bill, the only man besides myself with the "motive." For

how could Bill, whom I had seen on the yard just before going below,

descend to the lee alley, knife the mate through the window, and get

aloft in time to answer at four bells?

Mentally counting my steps along the alley and down to the passage,

the half-minute or so while I was engaged at the log slate, and the

succeeding interval of time between his death scream and Bill's call

from aloft, I found it incredible. Even had he been able so to time his

descent by any means as to reach the window before I had closed the

log slate, still the men had wakened at the scream, and one or more

would have seen him before he could have got out of sight behind the

cro'-jack on his way aloft. As for Tom, who also had a motive, though

a lesser one, he was out of the question. There were no beckets nor

lanyards with which to secure the wheel, and had he dropped it the

canvas would have been in ribbons before he could reach the window.

The steward, who slept off the forward cabin, had come out, rubbing

his eyes, palpably stupid from recent sleep; and he had no motive--the

mate had liked him. When I had sprung on deck the strong moonlight had

shown it clear of men as far forward as the main hatch, from which a

few were arousing themselves. The murderer could not have run forward.

Who else? I asked myself. Mabel? She could have run forward by the lee

alley after I had gone down by the other; but why? She had no motive

for the crime, and if she had why would she have chosen such a moment,

when discovery was inevitable? Then, too, it required strength beyond

hers to drive a sheath knife to the handle into the body of a man.

No, Mabel was also out of the question; but there came to my mind the

equally disquieting query, What was she doing on the main deck, or in

the alley near the mate's room, at that time of night? This I could not

answer; but at daylight it was answered for me.

Captain Merwin opened the door of my room, and I rolled out of my

berth. "Mr. Rogers," he said, "I owe you an apology. You did not kill

the mate. She has recovered and explained."

"Who did, sir?" I asked.

"One of the twin stowaways, she does not know which. I have ironed them

both in the 'tween deck; but they accuse each other."

"Brotherly love with a vengeance!" I commented. "But I cannot see how

either could have done it."

"My daughter saw one of them at the window. Here she is."

Mabel, her glorious hair disheveled, her face pale and drawn, her eyes

tear stained, pushed into the room, and incontinently fell into my

arms, her own around my neck.

"Oh, it's over!" she said brokenly. "It's over at last--and the strain,

and the worry! I could not have stood it much longer! I knew last night

that I couldn't; but you wouldn't let me speak!"

"Mabel, Mabel!" said her father. "Steady yourself, my girl!"

"Papa, go away!" she said. "I want to talk with Mr. Rogers, and you

could not understand--you haven't understood, at all."

He paused a moment; but she straightened herself before him and pointed

to the door. He left us together.

"And you did not understand, either," she said, turning to me. "You

thought I enjoyed his conversation, and his society, and his maddening

attentions. Why couldn't you see? It was only to quiet him, to flatter

his insufferable vanity, and keep him from further assault upon you. I

knew--I knew by your face that first day out that you would kill him if

he struck you again; and then--then the consequences! You had warned

him, threatened, and nothing would have saved you. They would have

hanged you--and what should I have done then?"

"And you did this for me, Mabel? Do you really care for me?"

"Since I first saw you," she said, her face flaming with color. "I

should not tell you now," she added, "only for what has happened; for I

heard your opinion of me that same evening."

"Then you also heard, Mabel," I said, as I took her again in my arms,

"that I have loved you, and waited for you, since you were a child."

"Yes," she answered simply. "Perhaps, after all, that is why I am

telling you now. I might have told you last night, and followed you

down to the main deck; but when I looked in you were busy, and I went

to the lee steps to go back and wait for you. Then I saw him at the

window, and--and I heard--and screamed. I must have fainted, and when I

wakened a little while ago Papa told me you had killed him--and I knew

better."

"God love you, Mabel!" I said. "But what roused you last night--to tell

me--to follow me?"

"What he threatened after you had warned him again. He purposed to

strike you again on the first pretext, and allow you to attempt his

life; then to have you imprisoned for murderous assault. He did not

believe you would actually kill him; but I knew you would. I wanted to

beg you not to try, to be patient, to hold your temper."

"Had you asked me that, Mabel," I said, "I think I should."

After breakfast that morning the body of the mate was given sea burial;

then there followed a curious court of inquiry at the mizzen hatch--a

court in which the two accused prisoners were also witnesses against

each other, and in which the testimony of the only positive witness

was invalidated by lack of identification. Mabel could only say that

she had seen one of them draw his head and shoulders out of the mate's

window just as his agonized scream had smitten her ears, and look into

her face as she peered at him from the head of the steps. But she could

not tell one from the other. The men had heard the screams; but had

seen nothing but myself, bending over the girl.

Bill's testimony was direct and short. He did not change it, nor

attempt to qualify it. The sheath knife was his, he admitted, and it

had not been touched by him. On the yard he had seen me go forward and

into the companion; he had seen the girl follow, peer in at me, and go

to the lee steps; and he had seen Tom leave the wheel when the girl had

entered the alley, hurry along the lee alley, pick up the knife, reach

into the window, and leave it there. He had heard the two screams, had

seen me emerge and bend over the girl after she had fallen down the

steps, had seen the captain arrive, and when four bells had struck he

had answered and come down; for his punishment had ended.

Tom had more to say. First, he had seen Bill drop from the bight of a

lee cro'-jack buntline to the house just where the knife was placed.

He had seen him pick up the knife, jump to the alley, and after the

mate had screamed spring back to the house and disappear behind the

cro'-jack as he climbed the buntline. He had watched him farther aloft

as he appeared on the cro'-jack yard, and had seen him go up the lee

topmast rigging to the upper yard from which, when he had struck four

bells, he had answered.

"You inhuman pair of scoundrels!" spluttered Captain Merwin

indignantly. "No matter which is guilty--for a twin brother to swear

away the life of the other! It is incredible, unheard of! Why didn't

you speak at once--either of you--both of you?"

To this they each coolly announced a satisfaction with the death of the

mate and a disinterestedness in the fate of the other as to minimize

their responsibility.

I now further clouded the case by my own speculations; that Tom could

not have left the wheel without the ship's broaching to, and that Bill

had not the time in which to descend and return, even had he been able

to choose the exact moment. But to this Tom gave immediate answer.

"Can you remember the time it took, sir," he asked me, "from your

lookin' at him aloft to your hearin' him sing out at four bells?"

"About four minutes," I said, after a moment's thought.

"Now, I'll prove it, sir, that it was plenty of time. I s'pose the lee

buntlines haven't been touched since then, have they?"

The boatswains testified that they had not, and Tom requested that

his irons be removed for his demonstration. He was freed, and stepped

toward the weather alley. "Now, I'll go aloft, Mr. Rogers," he said,

"to the same place on the yard as he was, and you take the same place

on the quarter where you was when you seed him up there. Then you start

forward, just as you did, and I'll do just what he did."

The captain nodded assent to this, and I went aft to the log while Tom

danced aloft to the lee topsail yard. "All ready, sir!" he called.

"Start now!"

I faithfully reproduced my steps along the alley, down to the main

deck, and into the passage, where I killed time at the log desk. As I

turned to leave it I heard Tom call, "Now it is, sir!" from the mate's

window, and, stepping out on deck, I went through the pantomime of

leaning over Mabel, talking with the captain, and going to the mate's

room to call him. Before I had reached the door, however, Tom's voice

came from aloft. "Four bells!" he shouted. "All's well!"

I came out. The captain was holding his watch, and Tom was leisurely

descending.

"You were slightly mistaken, Mr. Rogers," said the captain. "He did

it in less than three minutes. He slid down the middle buntlines of

the treesails, took time enough at the window, and went up hand over

hand forward of the cro'-jack, then up the topmast rigging. He has

proved his innocence by proving his brother guilty. But--God help such

brothers!"

"And Gawd help you, you old fool," yelled Bill, as he waved his

manacled hands at the skipper, "if I get out o' this fix! I didn't kill

him, though I meant to, and I'll kill you yet as sure as I meant to

kill him!"

"Down below with him, Mr. Rogers!" said the captain, and I took the

frenzied Bill to the 'tween deck, where I lashed him to a stanchion,

still raving and threatening, not only the captain, but his brother Tom

and myself.

"For it's you," he raved, "that give him a chance to show off his

climbin'! What if there was time? D'ye think I'd ha' been fool enough,

up aloft where I could see, to come down on that job with the girl

puttin' herself in the way? He was on the poop, and couldn't see where

she was."

Though I made him no answer, I confess that this aspect of the case

troubled me as we sailed on toward Sydney. I said no more about it,

though at the trial of Bill at Sydney I introduced it in my testimony.

It had little weight. A captain's preconceived opinion of a sailor's

guilt often has more influence in court than solid evidence to the

contrary, and Bill was convicted of murder in the first degree on the

testimony of his brother and the captain's story of the climb.

We went to sea before he was sentenced; I as first mate, and Mabel as

my promised wife. And, though the rest of the crew had deserted the

murder ship, Tom went with us; for he wanted, he said, to get as far

away from his brother, dead or alive, as was possible. And with his

brother in limbo Tom was really a changed character, lively, anxious to

please, and ambitious to learn. He seemed grateful to me, and accorded

me his confidence, showing me his sheath knife one day with its point

broken off.

"For I want no murder in mine, sir!" he said. "I know I've got a bad

temper, and I know these knives can go deep. No hangman's knots for me,

Mr. Rogers! Say, sir, will you show me how to make one?"

Not without repugnance did I make the grisly exhibit for him in the end

of a rope. He practiced it until proficient, and then, gleefully and

grinning, made hangman's nooses in ropes' ends until the men, with the

suasion of the forecastle, changed his mood.

The change seemed permanent. His unpleasant grin gave way to the old

and equally unpleasant scowl and nervous manner. He grew irritable,

and one morning was so offensively familiar with Mabel and so insolent

to Captain Merwin and myself that I ordered him aloft in his watch

below for punishment, giving him as a task the making up of gaskets on

the mizzen. Then I paid him no attention until four bells, when the

helmsman, looking aloft as he struck the bell, sang out, "Great God,

sir! Look!"

Tom, neatly noosed with a hangman's knot under his ear, was swaying at

the end of an upper mizzentopsail yard gasket which depended from the

place on the yard where his brother had clung the night of the murder.

I had begun to dread the sound of "four bells." This division of the

watch is at two, six, and ten o'clock, night or day. At six in the

evening I had threatened the life of the mate; at ten in the evening he

had been killed; and at ten in the morning Tom had hanged himself.

What fatal or momentous event was to happen some day or night at two

o'clock, I could not imagine; but an incident that occurred near the

end of the homeward run led me to hope that the account had been

settled. We were holystoning the decks, and a man working his stone

near the wheel one afternoon found an obstruction in the deck, which he

pried out and handed to me.

It was a small, flat, triangular piece of steel, sharpened on one edge,

the end of a sheath-knife blade. It had been driven or pressed into the

deck by some powerful force, then broken off, exactly as though used as

a brace between a spoke and the deck to hold the wheel steady while the

helmsman left it for a moment or two. As I came to this conclusion the

man at the wheel struck four bells, and I tossed it overboard.

I said nothing about it to the captain or to Mabel; but news from

Sydney that had beaten us by steamer to New York could not be

concealed. On that day, at ten in the morning, Sydney time, his brother

Bill had been hanged in the jail yard.