SHANGHAIED AND HIRED

Evening Star, Issue 20060, 28 December 1928, Page 12

SHANGHAIED AND HIRED

' , ■ A SHORT STORY. [All Rights Reserved.] ''[By Grenville Hammerton.] 41 Romance! ” said Si ml wood, “ Romance, at sea! Why, there isn’t any. /There never was much, but what little there was disappeared when steam came in.” ilt “ Steam itself is romantic,” con-,-tradicted Wiseman. “ And the sea will breed romance for ever—it did in the days of Phoenicians, it will do when there isn’t a smoke-stack to be seen on it—when electricity or some even greater power drives our ships.” Sindwood exclaimed against this suggestion. He stated a dozen reasons, all of them practical and sound, against the possibility of any relief from the eternal monotony of things afloat. “ What ara your ships of to-day ? ” bo demanded. “Steam-driven warehouses! What are your sailors? Mechanics, painters, tradesmen. They go to sea to get a living ,nnd the idea of the call of the sea is all bosh.” “ You’re quite sure you’ll never go to sea again? ” countered Wiseman. “ Very sure. I’m much too comfortable ashore, thanks. . And it was the best day’s work 1 ever did in my life when I swallowed the anchor. iWhy—what do you think yourself 9 ” His companion shook his head. Wiseman was a sturdy, thick-set man, who 'wore evening clothes without overmuch dignity. His hands were broad and as brown as a nut; hairy, too. There were blue tattoo marks sltowing under his cuffs, and occasionally he ran an irritable finger round his high collar. Had he been clad in pilot cloth he Would have shown at once lor what he was—a merchant service sailor of the better type. “ You’re one of the so-called lucky ones,” he said. “ You cut away from the sea before she’d trapped you properly. You’re by way of being a rich man, I take it? ” “Oh, not -icing so ba.iß. not so badly,” was Sindwood’s complacent rejoiner. “ Yes, I think I’m on the right side of the workhouse, anyway/’ “ And you’ll be on your back with nervous prostration in another three months,” propounded Wiseman firmly and sagaciously. “ Just a drop more whisky—ah! a nerve-sound man doesn’t do that.” The decanter tinkled chattenngly on the brink of the tumbler “ A lunatic asylum is your next port, if I know anything about men, and I ought to, because I’ve carried a few mental wrecks with me, one time and another. Timing the candle at both ends, aren’t yon? ” Sindwood laid the decanter down and turned with a twitching smile. There was no mirth in it, only a hall-hearted attempt to set grim terror at hay. _ You're right,” he said. “No, it isn't’this stuff-—not altogether. Partly, of course. One lias to I y himself up to lighting pitch when—when a man’s worried, eh? “ I'm ail light,” continued Sindwood a bit too eagerly. “ I know when to stop. This is just a fillip. I’ve—a.h!” He drained his filled glass feverishly, and dropped in to a luxurious chair. “ What do you think 61 my shop? ” he asked, with an evident ” attempt to turn the conversation. “ Not had. A bit ladylike, perhaps. ’Well, let’s hear from you? ” . And then, with a stammering, headlong rush, it was out. .Speaking, Sindwood .seemed to grow more flaccid, his shoulders hunched higher about his ears. But the confidence steadied him. ■“ [ tell you, it’s been a hell on earth. My breakfast ranges itself on the plates into columns of figures. Little devils like pounds, shillings, and pence dance about me when I’m asleep. 1 .find mytelf looking at people to see if I’ve said foolish things. Oh, there are a hundred things—silly—tool things that you wouldn’t understand.” Ho held out his shaking hands and smiled wrylv. “ .Finance gets hold of yon worse than drink. And yon can’t shake it olf—you can’t. Its worse than madness. You slave your soul to its raw core just lor the sake of besting a man who did you down some time. Then you get a reverse, and you wonder if you’ve Ipst your power, and you lie awake .seeing visions—sneering friends, oh, it’s hell.” His lips were no longer under control, and he spoke in spasmodic _ jerks. When he paused he pressed his tongue firmly into his palate. “ Cut it out—you’re kjjhng yourself,” said Wiseman bluntly. “ Why don’t you marry a nice girl—she’d help: "She’d give yon something else to think about than the making ol money.” “ Oh, women aren’t in my lino. have appealed to me much, and now less than ever. I suppose finance dries up the springs of youth.” “ Then, for heaven’s sake, cut loose. Give yourself a rest, or you’ll be a .wreck before you know. Look hero, old chap, we’ve been pals one way and another lor a long time. It hurts mo to see you like this. 1 like to think of you as a- full-sized man, not a braintwisted miser. You’re not a man now —l’d make a dozen better than you but of spun-yarn and putty.” “ Go on. Rub it in as hard as you like, but 1, warn you it won’t do any good. I’ll tell you this: I felt the beastly business coming on a while ago, and I went to Piereoy—you know, the alienist. He warned me, but though he scared me cold it wasn’t any use. Once this business gets its grip you’re for it. I can’t let go now—l can’t!” Then, for the salvation of his moijey-bound soul, Wiseman lashed him with lingual whins and scorpions. A normal man would have afisen and flung him bodily from the handsome flat, with half the flat’s furnishings after him < to help him on his way; Sindwood listened quiveringly, and ’ towards the end he urns shedding actual tears of self-pity._ “Well, I’ve other things to think about than a rotten wreck like you,” concluded the sailor with purposed brutality. “ My_ ship sails day after to-morrow. I’d invite you to take a trip with me, but you wouldn’t benefit by it, because we have wireless, and she’d be full of company promoters. lYou’re a fool, and you’ll finish as a fool.” . , . “I think you might have the ’decency to—er—to-be—well—decent to the man who’s entertained _ you,” .whimpered Sindwood. “ Hang it, I’m not a criminal.” Wiseman rose and laid his gnarled hands on his friend’s shoulders, and stared searchingly into the lined, twitching face. “ If you were a decent murderer 1 d like you better,” bo said. “ There’d be something positive about you, in that case. As it is, you’re like a bad oyster that’s lost its shell. Yes, flabby. But we used to be pals. Come down and eat food with me to-morrow night. The ship’s An the Magdalen clock—you .probably remember the place. Will you come? ” “And be insulted this way? if you’re like this in my rooms' what’ll you be like in ‘ your • own ? ” ■ “Oh, I’ll not be offensive—l’ll promise you that. Coming?” Sindwood reflected shakily that Wiseman seemed to exude an atmosphere of strength. , His brain seemed to cling k> the sailor’s pronounced mentality.

Even now the prospect of his visitor’s departure fxlle.. him with vague terrors. “ Yea, I’ll come,” he said. “ You’re not going yet? ' Have another drink, won’t you? I say, it’s quite early, you know—lashings of time.” “ Afraid the mbney-devils’ll get their claws into you if I go, aren’t you?” Once more, and still again, Wiseman applied the lash of derision and contempt. But Sindwood remembered the appointment. He thought a dozen times of neglecting it, because his weak soul, writhed at thought of the tonguelashings ho was likely to endure, but the fascination that a strong soul can exercise over a weaker one drew him down to Dockland towards the appointed hour. He was very tired, and the maddening columns of figures insisted on thrusting themselves between his eyes and tho mist-haloed docklights, until a strong whiff of salt and tar and paint and spices, the indefinable atmosphere of the big shipping world, assailed his nostrils. Ho stopped, inhaling deeply. For a moment or two the mocking devils vanished. “ Which is tho Spitfire? ” ho asked an oil-skinned figure that looked up massively through the thin log. “ Mebeo you’ll wantin’ for to get aboard her?*” said the questioned one. “ Got friends aboard, belike? ” Now, amongst stay-ashore friends, Sindwood had been rather fond of posing as a sailor, as one who had roughed it in many odd corners of the world. Ho resented the suggestion of sailorlike pity for a landman stranded in an unknown world. “I’m going to see tho old man,’ he said, and added a few nautical expressions out of sheer vanity. “ She’s down hereabouts,” said the man. “ I’ll p’int her out to you, sir, seein’ I’m goin’ that way myself.” Ho turned and led the way down an uncertain vista of sheeted wagons and clanking shunting engines and damp-shining railway tracks. “ About hero, I’d reckon,” said the man, and then Sindwood turned—but it was a moment too late. Something rough and stinking was thrown over his head, stifling him; strong, vicious hands grappled his arms and held him a close , prisoner. Ho struggled with increasing feebleness, bo tried to shout, but his voice came back to Him muffled and strange. But he contrived to free his hands for a moment and struck out wildly. “Biff ’im!” came distinctly through the muffling wrap. Something touched his head, and blackness swept up to obscure all earthly things so far as Sindwood was concerned. ... He was conscious of a vile taste in his mouth when he wakened, of an excruciating headache, and of a sense of noise and motion. He opened his tired eyes, and saw wheels and spurts of lire dance bowilderingiy before him. Ho wondered what this portended, but his wonder was only vague. Not lor several minutes did he realise that he was staring uiiwiiikiiigly at a small and excessively smelly oil lamp that swung backwards and forwards with monotonous insistency. He tried to associate this odoriferous lamp with matters previously in his ken, but as his flat was lighted by electricity the lamp did not fit in. Then a sound that Drought memory rushing hotly assailed his ears, and a culminating splash, a swooshing hiss, and a culminating thud that shook the bed in which he lay. “ I must havo got drunk, and Wiseman's taking mo out to sea with him,” he meditated. “ If this is his idea of a joke, he’s ” Ho stretched himself, and'dropped gently off to sleep, again before retaliatory thoughts took proper shape in his mind. When next he wakened his discomforts seemed less pronounced, and tho place wherein ho lay was flooded_ with light. But over so often the light was obscured, it became greenish and dim The swooshing sound was repeated. Sindwood lay inertly there, vainly listening for something—something that was vaguely absent. A deep-throated roar from somewhere above him supplied the key to the riddle. “ Ready about —watch lay aft! ” ho heard, aiid understanding penetrated his brain “ A windjammer, by the holy sailor! ” lie exclaimed, and dragged himself to a sitting position in the bunk. His head ached abominably, and tho little devils gambolled through his consciousness, and ho was aware of a strong sense of injury. This was some silly practical joke that Wiseman had played on him. Ho tried to think hack through tho hours, and findjng that such thinking sent tho mocking devils into tiio background, he continued to think deeply, but no illumination was granted to him. It was all very strange. But ho must stir himself, the joke had already gone far enough. There were pressing business engagements needing his attention—remembering these brought back the reeling columns of figures—and if he neglected his affairs, ruin—tho spinechilling ruin of the overworked man’s, fancy—awaited him yefy surely. He looked about for his clothes—evening raiment, he supposed it would be, since ho had attired himself faultlessly ere proceeding towards the Spitfire—and gave a gasp of astonishment. Clothes there certainly were, but they were not over-reputable garments. They savoured more of tho slop-shop than Sackville street. He took his spinning head between his two unsteady hands and then tried to concentrate. The doo! opened with a rush on his perplexity, and a bronzed and dripping face, crowned by a weather-beaten sou’-westcr, intruded. “Feeling better?” asked a voice from that face. Tho voice was mellow and powerful, but somewhat husky. “ What does this mean, and where am I? ” asked Sindwood. “ And can’t you come inside, curse you! instead of playing your infernal monkey-tricks in and out like a jack-in-the-boxP ” “ Ah! that’s better —that’s better! Nothing like a bit of honest temper. You’re not so mad as all that, Mister. Swear a bit, if it would do you any good. Swear hard.” “ Who are you, and where ara I? ” demanded Sindwood. “ I’m captain of the Spitfire, and this is the Spitfire you’re aboard,” the rubicund one observed. “ Bryant’s my name. Yours is Jones, of course. Well, I’ve just tacked her, and she’s doing nicely, and the wind’s freeing, so we can look forward to being in open water in next to no time.” “Open water?” cried Sindwood. “ What on earth do you mean? ” “ What I say. Australia isn’t reached, without . travelling deep water.” 1 Sindwood m.ylo a frantic leap to the deck. / ' “Let rao got out!” ho stormed. “ This joke’s gone far enough—l tell you ! ” The skipper of tho Spitfire steadied to a roll, caught Sindwood by tho shoulder, and threw him easily back into the lower bunk. “ They said it might take you that way,” he said cryptically,. snatched up the folded garments on the settee, and surged through the door, slamming it shut behind him. Sindwood pulled open the door and made to follow, but a woman’s voice spoke in the near j distance, and ho shrank back. ! Tt was the entry of a slipshod steward with fragrant tea and buttered biscuits that aroused. him next. He realised that he was very hungry, and almost snatched at the tray. The steward, setting it down, gave a scared glance at him and bolted. “Urn! That’s funnier than ever,”; said Sindwood. but forgot to ponder over the problem until he Trad drunk

i the'.tea-—it was hot and strong am bracing—and eaten the plentiful sup- . ply of biscuits. • Before the last crural was disposed of the rubicund face ol Captain Bryant showed itself again. “ Am I awake, or is it still i r dream? ” asked Sindwood. “ You’re awake, fast enough. Bui you’ll admit it was really the best thing that could be done. By the time you get back to England it will al have blown over, bless yon! 1 1 shouldn’t worry about it if I were you. Of course, the forgery was discovered in time, before any mischief was done ” “Forgery!” almost screamed Sindwood. Then his anger left him. and lie sat quivering. There had been periods of blackness, of blank loneliness, when ho could not remember a single thing ho had done for an hour or may bo more at a stretch. “ Of course, you were all for facing it out, but—well, it wouldn’t have done, you know,” said Bryant sagaciously, wagging his head. “ There’s have been a lot of dirty linen washed in public, and it wouldn’t havo ' done. But you’ll bo able to live it i down in a year or so, and start alresh. I dare say you wore mad when you did it.” . , Through reeling noises Sindwood asked plaintively: “ If I’m mad as all that, can I have a drink? I—l need something, something steadying.” Came then again that wise headshake. “ A temperance ship this is. It had to be. She insisted.” “ Then get me ashoro where a man can get a drink,” cried Sindwood. a “ We've made a good two hundred miles since we dropped tho pilot. Tho wind is fair now, blowing hard, too, as you can feel. Wo might be three weeks boating hack against this. So we’ro going on,” “ This is sheer—rank piracy! ” “ It’s common Christian charity,, if yon only knew. And she doesn’t know the real truth, so shq won't hold it up against yon, if yon don’t tell her. Now, get dressed, and come on deck —havo a blow. It will do you good. Give yon an appetite for supper.” Sindwood stared wildly about him. 1 He could not remember very clearly, ! but as this unknown Captain Bryant ; seemed very sure of tho matter it i seemed certain that ho had been guilty ; of some grave error of judgment. Some juggling with figures, probably—and j there they were again, dancing their i maddening zoetropo measures in his : brain. Giddily lie reached for the clothes, which again lay piled on the ! settee. j A round, strong wind buffeted him as ! he showed his head above the companiomvay. The Spitfire lurched, and ; a rattle of spray flashed across her planking. Sindwood caught at the ; edge of the skylight, but missed it, ! and brought up with a rush against a i deck-chair that collapsed. From the I wreckage came a woman’s cry. It was on tho edge of dark, tho west was a rudely and purpling mystery, but as I Sindwood extricated himself from the ! confusion he became aware of a girlish i face, of a loosened shock of coppery , hair, of indignant eyes. Then came a j deep, mocking guffaw from the dircci tion of the wheel, a hateful sound. '• Sindwood felt a wave of cordial dislike j for someone or something surge over ' him as lie stopped to lend aid. “I hope,” lie said, “ I hope I’ve 1 not alarmed you.” “ You’ll bo all right when you’ve found your sea-logs,” said the girl, ; and scrambled to her feet. Then Sind- ' wood saw that she was quite young, ‘ and that she was much more than ! ordinarily pretty. i “ I hope so,” he said humbly. And I somehow his sense of injury lessened ! appreciably. It was only when lie ! turned aft, and met the grinning rc- ■ gard of a. huge, leaninc man who stood i beside the helmsman, that ho felt rancour blaze to life again in his soul. From the beginning of things ho hated Cauldron, the Spitfire's mate. At first the hatred was involuntary, and, apparently, mutual, but by little and little Sindwood began to understand there was a reason for it. It took several days to puzzle the matter out, because the wheeling c-oimiins of figures continued to_ trouble him, though with lessening insistence as the time wont by. But he analysed his emotions rather closely, for the sake of securing mental relief as much sis for any other reason, and discovered that the real cause of his hatred was tho gloating possess!veiiess that showed in Cauldron’s eyes whenever they rested on Maisio Bryant’s healthy face. But hatred of Cauldron certainly gave the mocking imps a relief—they chiefly came to trouble him when ho went to his cabin. Ho found, however, that if ho concentrated his thoughts sternly on Maisio Bryant his brain settled to something approaching steadiness, and although the black dead patches still came, they lasted a lesser time than previously. Then tho keen, good sea- air stimulated him, anil after a fortnight ho round that it was possible to go for so long as an hour without picturing himself in a hell of ruin on account of his summary leaving of iiis affairs. Remembrance of his sajjoring days came back with a rush. Tho healing quality of the sea was wonderful; ho began to think over long-forgotten details of seamanship, to take a growing interest in tho busy life about him. The Spitfire, like all of her class, was undermanned, and every man had more to do than ho could manage, and there was, in consequence, harsh driving and some little brutality, though Bryant himself affected unconsciousness of what was going on. Cauldron was the principal offender in this regard, but his mighty strength and his colossal self-satisfaction established for him an unquestionable reputation as a bucko bruiser, and when he spoke above a whisper men jumped or shivered in their shoes, but inevitably obeyed. Cauldron it was who taunted Sindwood with idleness, and pointed as ho spoke to whore' Maisie Bryant was engaged in repairing the weather-worn bunting of the Signal Code. “ myself,” said tho mate, “ I’ve no use for loafers. I’d be ashamed to scrimshank whilst a woman was working, but I suppose it’s your own affair. . Y r ou did all the work you wanted ashore, didn’t you? ” Ho sneered violently as ho spoke, and Sindwood, not knowing what the hours of blackness ashoro had given him in the way of a load of sin, flushed scarlet and trembled at the knees. His impulse was, to fly at the mocker js throat, but a second glance at Cauldron’s swelling biceps gave, him pause. But self-dis-gust assailed him; on a time, he, too, had been man enough to fight doggedly, to go on fighting even when ho was beaten to his knees. He pitied himself for the physical wreck ho had become, and volunteered for work on deck, stipulating only that he would bo answerable to Bryant alone for his doings. After a week of sailmaking on the poop he noticed a warmth growing in Maisie’s manlier towards him, and wondered why he should be pleased at this knowledge. Pleased he was, however. Maisio sat beside him on the poop one fair morning as he turned i in a cringle. She watched the operation observantly, and_ at its conclusion j nodded an approving head. I “ You did that in regular Bristol ; fashion,” she said. “ A proper sailor couldn’t have done it better.”! “I used to be a sailor—l’ve an extra master’s ticket,” said Sindwood, not without vanity. “ But I swallowed the anchor and settled down ashoro. What brings you to sea? ” “ Need, I suppose. A desire to look after niy daddy, perhaps. He’s only got mo in the world, and ho■ hasn’t

a private fortune. The pay he gets hero is eighteen pot ;ds a month, and ho lias antiquated notions about women not earning their own living. Besides, tho sea’s at least a hundred times better than the land.” The shadow of tho mate fell across tho sunlit deck before them, and Sindwood felt tho j girl shiver. He looked at her and ' saw her lips grow white. Not until Cauldron had tramped down to tho main deck, whence his thunderous voice was uplifted in acrimonious reprimand, did Sindwood comment on tho girl’s unrest. “ I’m afraid of Mr Cauldron,” she said, “ Tho moment I saw him I felt an instinctive aversion. Ho looks at me and watches me shiver, and then ho laughs. I—l hate him! ” “ I’ll tell him to mend his manners,” exclaimed Sindwood, though his heart was thumping stonmly in his chest. “ He’d killlyou if you crossed him in any way,” she said. “ And ho wants a chance to harm you—l've seen it in his eyes.” . But Sindwood, spite of his trepidation, determined to have a reckoning with tho blustering mate Old Bryant had been keeping his cabin for tho last couple of days, complaining of rheumatism, the elderly seaman’s bitter foe. Ho left his work and sought tho mate, whom lie found hounding a Swede up the rigging' “ Just a minute,” quoth Sindwood, and tho great man flashed swiftly about on him, his teeth bare and a snarl on his face. “ What do yon want? ” “ An improvement in yonr manner to me, for one thing. And more respect to Miss Bryant. Otherwise ” “ Soft on her yourself, yon paperbacked swindler you? Get aft, or I’ll —l’ll——” His eyes blazed, his mighty fist shot out, and Sindwood collapsed limply in tho scrappers. But tho blow, instead of quelling him, aroused him, aroused Ins spirit. Ho .scrambled up and dashed in on the mate, to be smashed back again. “ Call me a swindler! ” ho panted, returning to tho charge. Once more tho hydraulic ram of a fist smashed homo, and, crouching helplessly on the deck, Sindwood felt bitter tears in his eyes. He was licked, hopelessly licked, and perhaps Cauldron was right—he was a swindler, and being unfit to champion tho girl bo was equally helpless to stand between her and persecution, by reason of iris weakness. “I’m boss hero; you’re a worm,” said Cauldron, still snarling. “ Remember that in future. Now, got aft.” And Sindwood went, abashed. But tho grinning imps of torment troubled him less now, and there were whole long spells when monetary problems left him •undisturbed, when ho could oven laugh at himself for his breakdowns. The sea was doing its work infalliby. When tho second mate fell from tho fore topmast crosstroe whilst engaged in bending lino weather canvas, and smashed himself to pulp on tho deck beneath, Sindwood volunteered for his berth. ' And now Sindwood felt the whole spirit of healing at work within him. ! A new and splendid vigour possessed him, tho beauty of tho sea inspired him. Week by week his jaded nervous system assumed fresh tone, life laughed about him—save only when Cauldron showed across his horizon. This was seldom now; tho two men only mot during tho brief period of relief, or occasionally at a meal, and these unpleasantnesses were, counteracted by tho amount of Maisic Bryant's society that he was able to obtain. The girl needed air and exercise, and she usually chose Sindwood's watch on deck for such recreation, Friendship grow up between them. So the long, uneventful voyage proceeded; and his friendship for Maisio Bryant grow apace, so that he lound himself viewing tho possibility of a parting at tho voyage end with what was almost a pain at In's heart. “Why part?” ho as keel h imsclf. “ I’m happier hero than I’ve been for years. 1 can enjoy her companionship; her father’s a brainy man. No need for worry now, and tlu j’s enough laid by for old ago.” Curious imaginings came to him during the long night watches, but Cauldron’s hato of him was far from being imaginary. The mate was growing daily more offensive. And he smiled craftily at the girl whenever ho saw her. She, fluttering, feared him more with every passing day. Bub her father’s recovered health helped her to bravery; and, too, there was a something else about her, some new thing, which set her fears at . Then Captain Bryant woi.it d.,.. n with a return of his old complaint, a crippling, savage attack, bred by much I recent exposure, when ho had fought tho undermanned ship through a | shrieking typhoon for eighty hours without a. rest. ... , It was a rapid patter of light feet overhead, a. sudden stilled cry, a bitteuoff oath that aroused Sind'wood from his sloop. Ho lay, quivering, uncertain, and tho cry was repeated in terror. Maisio's voice, ho said, and rolled from his bunk. He, had only removed his oilskin and coat and boots as ho turned in, for ho was very tired ; now ho paused, only to snatch up his scarlet stocking cap that Maisio had knitted him by way of a jest, and flashed to the deck above. It was breaking dawn, and the yellow light of gathering day showed sickly through a thin sea fog. Tho sea hud flattened to almost a calm—nay, a full calm—for as Sindwood readied the deck tho dripping sails thudded heavily against the masts. Ho saw Maisio Bryant standing defiant beside the mizzeu rigging, ho saw Cauldron throw out his arms and rush to siezo her. Very fair, very fragile, very desirable looked the girl in the uncertain light. Yet, as the rabid mato made to seize her, like any beast of prey, she hurled some weighty object at him, and, turning, flung herself overboard! Sindwood rubbed his eyes; tho thing hud happened instantaneously, it was unbelievable. There was no cry of protest from tho girl, only a savage, inarticulate howl from tho mato. He stood by tho rail, staring, into the fog, and Sindwood, overcoming tbo tremor of his knees, hurled himself towards him. Ho was seized in a grip that jarred him, the mate’s distorted face was thrust into his. “ Let her go! You shan’t have her; stand clear; or I’ll kill you.” And in that moment tho sea bade Sindwood to his duty. Ho remembered older days of rough and tumble, and he bent his head, and butted the giant in tho stomach. Ho felt him writhe, and snatched himself clear; ho dragged a belaying pin from the rail and smashed at the big man’s head again and again until Cauldron fell ? and lay where he had fallen. Then no joined his hands together, ami dived outboard, calling as he left the rail. Ho came to the surface, and dashed the salt from his eyes. Darkly behind him loomed tho misty pyramid that was tho Spitfire; ahead was nothing save tho sea and tho fog. Stay, though —a dark patch showed. Steadily the red cap in the water drew nearer. Tho diiwnlight lit it up until it showed like a flame. Sindwood swam on, shouting at times, and soon he thought to hear a faint . cry stealing through the thinning mists. Then — he saw what ho saw. Ahead was a giant buoy, a chequered affair, moored there to mark an outlying shoal, and thrown upon it, draggled and dishevelled, a woman, her hair lank about her shoulders. He quickened his stroke and swam towards her, and as he called her name he knew a solution to tho problems that had troubled him. i He knew it as he reached her, as his hand touched her draggled skirt; ha knew it as he saw her colourless face

and her horror-stricken eyes. ■ “ Maisie,” he called, “ it’s I—Sindwood.” Sho stared frozenly past him, and he clambered to her side and took her in his arms. “ You? ” she asked shiveringly. “ Yes. I think. I killed Cauldron— I hope so.” She shivered and clung to him, and now ho saw the horror leave her face. “He—he—tried —oh! —l wont on deck—l couldn’t sleep—and be ” “ Yes. Don’t worry. Ho, won’t trouble you again. They’ll send a boat ” *■ But the day broke fully, and the mist settled down with greater thickness, and no boat came. Cauldron had sent the helmsman for’ard ns soon as Maisio showed on deck, and the watch had no cognisance of what had happened. The Spitfire drifted away from tho buoy, and no one cared. A pjassiug coastal steamer, making up foi\ landmarks, picked them up many hours later. They must have settled matters on the buoy, clinging together for .warmth, for Sindwood kissed-the girl very tenderly as she. was taken away from him. And inter, when sho was warmed and clothed, he said: “ 1 love you enormously. I must have loved you a long time. But there's a shadow on my life; they say I’m an lA conscious criminal. I’m going home to face the music and make reparation, and when that’s done I’H find you if I have to cross the whole world hi search.” “ you must go,” she said. “ But you’ll find mo waiting afterwards.” But Captain Brvant had something to say to that. Tho steamer landed them "at the same port to which the Spitfire was : bound. “Criminal! Criminal, my hat!” boomed the skipper. “ You’re no more a criminal than I am. But when you get home —yes, you and Mrs Sindwood—go and sec my friend, Captain Wiseman. He’ll maybe tell you a thing or .two. And Wiseman did. He laughed much in tho tolling, after ho had kissed Maisie of tenor than Sindwood deemed necessary. “ Blame mo for it all. Y es, I did it. I saw how you were. I know tho sea would heal you, and that you’d never go back of your own accord. So 1 bribed my own men to shanghai you aboard the Spitfire, where, .there was no wireless and the chance of much hard work. Wasn’t I right? Aren't you a different man? Who said there was no romance at sea? Unbeliever! I spun the yarn about your being a criminal so that you’d have something new to think about, so that you’d ,be able to analyse yourself a bit, and find out whether money-making was. worth while at the rate yon wore doing it. You’ve to thank me for sanity, Sindwood. if there’s anything else you consider yourself in my debt—l’ll give Maisio another kiss and call it square.''