, 1909-04-22
CHAPTER ~.
In Which | Meet Ny Crew.

The polite hotel clerk halted me a,
I passed his desk on the way out with
information Thai a drunken naval Off.
cer-evidently Sanchez-had been
there twice already seeking me, had
also asked for Lord Darlington, and
would return again at ten o'clock. |
thanked him. smiling to myself, won.
dering II the English nobleman wa,
to be challenged also. and promptly
disappeared into the night without.
The unfortunate affair with the az.
srieved lieutenant had become a small
matter no longer troubling me.
l have wandered by night through
most Of the seaports of the world,
knowing well the %intricacies and dark
places of Port Said, Melbourne and
Calcutta, but l doubt II even the I'm.
speakable orient al equal for dirt.
%suualor, crime and peril those marrow.
crooked alleyways where sailors most
do congregate against the Valparaiso
rioting the scum of the South seas,
and here flourish their parasites. Any
night a trip alone through those foul
lanes is OF the kind 10 test strong
nerves; but on this special occasion,
the way filled with pandemonium and
drunkenness. the entire city a riot
Of noisy violence. the %populace aroused
to fierce nate toward all foreigners,
the passage was one of constantly re.
curing danger. The street lights, few
and far between. were mere blotches
of color winking feebly at the sur.
rounding darkness. the rough cobble.
stone pavement underfoot vas irregu.
lar and deceitful, while drunken
crowds, either q~uarrelsome OF mau.
dinghy affectionate, surged aimlessly
about. ~gesticulating and yelling with
Latin fervor. However. knew the
way well, and kept myself hidden from
observation by lowering close beneath
the protecting shadows of the build
ings. drawing well back within door.
ways to permit the noiser parties Of
jewellers TO pass, and hen hurrying
forward along the deserted streets. |
stumbled over the body of more than
one drunken man, while sounds OF
quarreling were borne to me through
the open door of every low taproom |
passed. The scum Of Valparaiso had
come to the top. the fires Of hell burn.
ing fiercely.
Pedro Rodrigues' den stood some.
what back from the narrow lane II
.ronted, fanked and concealed BY
aller buildings on either side. 1t was
| ramshackle. wooden affair, saggins
ably at one corner. the half dozen
steps leading to the open door being
only dimly lighted. AS it was a well
known resort. frequented almost en-
tirely by foreign seamen who would
scarcely be safe on the streets such
a night as this, it was no surprise to
discover the taproom -.densely
crowded with sailor-men, and to dis
tinguish a voice singing Justify in Wig
orous English, to an accompaniment
of glasses pounding upon the rough
tables. Indeed, a wild, hilarious mob
greeted me loudly as | pressed aside
the heavy curtain and stepped within
cast a quick. comprehensive glance
over the faces. u%pturned through the
enveloping haze-Swedes and Films
from the North sea. Dutchmen OF the
Baltic, hairy Englishmen from the
channel, Yankees of the West Allan
tic, beach-combers from out Of the
South seas, with here and there
negro or brown-faced Kanaka to add
to the variety. Faith. 1t was a choles
collection, as though the wide water
OF the world had been SKINNED 10
bring together that rare crew Of beau
ties. Perched high upon q table, DID
Ions legs encased in sea boots, seated
astride a chair, sat the singer, he
mop OF coarse red hair standing erec
his Jaw that of a bulldog, the scar Of
a recent knife wound showing ghastH
across one cheek, his blue shirt opea
at the throat to reveal a hairy chest
beneath matched brows his eyes
glinted and cleaned in a ferocious a.
tempt at good humor.
Sing, we bullies!" he roared, after
n inquiring glance toward me, bring
ing his heavy glass down or the back
OF the chair. Lay 1t out fer the gent
whut has Just come calm on ye. Tuns
up ye sea dogs. I'm no hopera harus'
here to entertain re. Give us a swing
10 the chorus now, or I'll shy this mus
into yer bloomin' faces. Lift the tune
my hearties, and show the dagoes ou'
side whut ye can do. Now at 1t:
me captains bride was fair to see
twins hard! bend low!
she Knocked AT him; she smiled at me-
swing hard! bend low!
oh, to hell wild that sorter love-sick
STUN, cried a protesting voice, hoarse
~. That's no good sailor song, BIZ
Give us somethin' to start our pipes
The giant in the chair scowled'
fere Il lot O. dubs, an not ht saH
sr-men,' he retorted, savagely, dram
Ing his glass; but I've got q chorus
ell sing or fiEht me. an dam II !