The midland journal. (Rising Sun, Md.) 1885-1947, 1903-10-30


live here, and Pm off home"
'Then l suppose l must say good
night. Hope to meet you again, though.
What boat are you on now, captain?"
well, I'm putting in bit of spell
ashore just now, captain. Fact is,
haven't come across any employment
quite to my taste lately. 'Tisn't every
shipowner l care to serve under"
NO" said the red haired man. "They
are brutes most of them. But look
here, captain, there'd be no offense in
my getting you the refusal of a berth,
would there?"
Kettle flushed. Captain; he said,
you're very good. You see I'm mar
ried, with children, and I've never
earned enough to put anything by. Be
tween men, | don't mind telling you
I'm ON my beam ends. If can't get
hold of an advance note this week, it
will mean going to the pawnshop for
Mrs. Kettles next Sundays dinner"
The red haired man sighed. well,
captain" be said, you needn't thank
me. It's just my duty to my employers
to put this thing in your way. But
we'll not speak of it here in the open.
Come along off to my steamboat"
Right" said Kettle. where have
you got her?'
"She's lying at buoy in the river.
We can get a boat from the steps,"
Nothing much more was said between
them then. The big red haired man
seemed indisposed for further talk, and
Kettle was too proud to ask questions.
Together they walked with their short
seaman's stride down the wet new
streets of the seaport, and Captain
Kettle made his brain ache by hoping
that this would not be another item to
add to his long list of disappointments.
He had not earned days wage for
six months, and he was in such straits
for want of money that he was grow.
ing desperate.
They got down to the steps and took
waterman's boat, turned up the piece
of plank which lay in the stern sheets
and sat on the dry side and then pushed
off into the dark river. The red haired
man picked up the yoke lines and
steered the boat among the dense ship
ping, past tiers of coasting schooners
clinker built tugs, past ungainly iron
steam tramps, fishing craft, dredgers
and the other resting traffic of the
Tyne and finally rounded up under a
frieze of sterns and ran alongside the
gangway of a 200 ton steam yacht.
"Hello" said Kettle. ''PleasureT
"Well, hardly that" said the red
haired man. "Step aboard, captain,
and I'll pay off the waterman"
He'd better wait to take me ashore
again."
"No; let him go. We may have a
long talk. I'll put you ashore in one
of my own boats when you go. Now,
captain, here we are. Come below to
my ROOM"
you've got steam up, see," said
| Kettle as they walked aft along the
white, wet decks.
"My ORDERS" said the red haired
man.
"Sail soon?
MAY start any minute. We never
know. My owners a rare one for
changing mind"
"Huhw said Kettle. might be a
woman"
"Deyilish like a woman" said the
red haired man dryly. He opened a
| door at the foot of the companionway
and turned an electric light switch.
This is my room, captain. Step right
in. A drop of whisky would be good
thing to keep out the cold while we
talk. Excuse me minute while go
| get a couple of tumblers. guess the
stewards turned in"
/ Kettle seated himself on a velvet
covered sofa and looked round at the
| elaborate fittings of the cabin. Satin
wood panels" he commented, "nickel
battens to put the charts on, glass
| backed bookcase and silk bunk cur
tains; no expense spared anywhere.
| Lord! Who wouldn't sell farm and
go to sea? But the old man said she
wasn't pleasure. l wonder what the
game is? Contraband, guess. Many
yachts great on that. Well, any
way, I've got to hear"
The red haired man came back with
two half filed tumblers and water
jug. Here's the poison" said he.
Mix it according to your own weight"
THAT'S rather more than my usual
whack," said Kettle, eying the tumbler.
''but it's a cold. wet night, so here's
By the way, captain, I'm afraid I've
forgotten your name."
my name?" said the red haired man.
"Oh, yes; I'm Douglas-Captain Doug
las"
captain Douglas" said Kettle
thoughtfully. mo; can't say recall
1t at present. Well. sir, anyway, here's
your very good health and prosperity -
"Same," said the red haired man,
and he absorbed his whisky and water
with the dexterity of an artist Out
Of politeness Captain Kettle finished
his tumbler also. There is an etiquette
about these matters.
Silence filled the cabin for q minute
or so, broken only by the distant clat-
ter of shovel on fire bar, and Ket-
tie looked at the cabin clock. 1t was
11;30, and Mrs. Kettle would be ex-
pecting him home. "Hellov' he said.
"Firing up? oh. | suppose you've got
to keep steam in the donkey boiler