The herald., 1897-08-15

thrown at him as he stood there with
the white skin of his limbs showing his
human kinship through the black phan-
tasy of his rags. Then a pair of old
shoes fell at his muddy feet. With a
cry, From under" rolled up pair of
trousers, heavy with tar stains, struck
him on the shoulder. He paved around
with his naked foot, gathering the
things in a heap, and his little beady
eyes began to roam from berth to
| berth.
"Take that bunk by the door there
it's pretty fair" suggested Belfast So
| advised, he gathered the gifts at his
feet, pressed them in bundle against
his breast, and flung them into the
empty bed place.
| Suddenly many heavy blows, struck
with a handspke on the deck-ahoVa.
doomed like discharges of small cannon
through the forecastle. Then the boat
swain's voice rose outside the door with
an authoritative note in its drawl
| "D'ye hear below there? Lay aft!
Lay aft to muster all hands!"
| There was moment of surprised still
ness. Then the forecastle floor disap-
peared under men whose bare feet flop
ped on the planks as they sprang clear
out of their berths. Caps were rooted
for amongst tumbled blankets. Some,
yawning, buttoned Wristbands Half
smoked pipes were knocked hurriedly
against woodwork and stuffed under
pillows. Voices growled: whats up?
Is there no rest for us?" They We're
lurching in twos and threes through
the doors, after the manner of mer-
chant Jacks who cannot go out of door
fairly, like mere landsmen.
Outside the glare of the steaming
forecastle. the serene purity of the night
enveloped the seamen with it's soothing
breath, with it's tepid breath flowing un-
der the stars that hung countless above
the mastheads in a thin cloud of lumi-
nous dust On the town side the black
ness Of the water was streaked with
trails Of light which undulated gently
on slight ripples, similar to filaments
that float rooted to the shore. Far off,
Byculla way, the electric lamps at the
dock gates shone on the end of lofty
standards, with glow, binding and
frigid. like captive ghosts of some evil
moons. Scattered all over the dark pol
ish of the roadstead, the ships at anchor
floated in perfect stiffness under the fee
BILE gleam of their riding lights, loom
ing up, opaque and bulky, like strange
and monumental structures abandoned
by men to an everlasting repose.
Before the cabin door Mr. Baker was
mastering the crew. AS they stumbled
and lurched along past the mainmast,
they could see aft his round, broad face
with white paper before it, and beside
his shoulder the sleepy head, with
dropped eyelids, Of the boy, who held,
suspended at the end of his raised arm,
the luminous globe of lamp. Even
before the shuttle of naked soles had
ceased along the decks, the mate began
to call over the names. He called dis
tinctly in a serious tone BETTING this
roll-call to unquiet loneliness, to in
glorious and obscure struggle or to the
more trying endurance of small priva-
tions and wearisome duties. AS the
chief mate read out name, one of the
men would answer, "Yes, sir!" or
"Here!" and, detaching himself from
the shadowy mob of heads visible above
the blackness of starboard bulwarks,
would step barefooted into the circle of
light. and in two noiseless strides pass
into the shadows on the port side of the
quarterback.
Mr.. Baker read on steadily, "Hans-
ampbell-Smith-W Wamibo. Now,
then, Wamibo. Why don't you answer?
Always got to call your name twice"
The Finn emitted at last an uncouth
grunt, and, stepping out, passed through
the patch of light, weird and gaudy,
with the face of a man marching
through dream. The mate went on
faster, "Craik-Sullivan-Do o,
Lord!' he involuntarily calculated as
the incredibly dilapidated figure ap-
peared in the light.
1t stopped; it uncovered pale gums
and long, upper teeth in malevolent
grin. "Is there anythink wrong with
me, Mister Mater" it asked, with
flavor of insolence in the forced sim
plicity of its tone. On both sides of the
deck subdued filters were heard.