Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1912-12-29

forgiven lllNStll lOl hllllS HILL DuC llCNSi
forgave him, the dogl He struck her re-
peatedly, every time he got drunk. She
would show me the marks. Do you wonder
that | went mad and killed him.
Il wonder at nothing in this life, | an
swered as steadily as | could, except why
men will give up friends, fortune, liberty,
and life for the sake of a woman when there
are millions of Others
| But only one woman for the one man,
Sir. Perhaps you have not met your woman.
| did. But tell me, Captain, have you heard
of her? Do you know where she is, or If she
is still alive? Thirty years is a long time,
and she has been in my mind every minute
of my waking hours in that thirty years.
Tell me news of her; then you can put me IN
irons with Mike"
| 81 know nothing about her, | answered.
"She left the ship before the crew left before
you went ashore under arrest. | never saw
her since, and stayed in San Francisco long
enough to know of your trial, confession, and
sentence. Your sentence must have been
committed. But how did you escape"
"After the years they gave me an open
ing," he replied mournfuly, "and ran for it.
But l killed no one. | simply stopped
tramp and made him change clothes. Then
got to San Francisco and the shipping office
| just in time to sign with you.
/
said:
"Go up to your wheel, Martin. | will not
give YOU up to the authorities, because, as
YOU say, YOU have suffered enough. But
look out for Mr.. BOyce. He knows you as
the escaped James Murdoch. You did him
la good turn this morning, and you may gain
his favor"
"Mr. Boyce knows, does he?" he asked,
with a CLEAN in his eyes that might mean
terror or hatred, or both.
| "He read the account of your escape.
Gain his good will. will protect you to the
extent of my power; but l cannot prevent
his denouncing you in New York That is
your task Make him your friend
"Thank you, Captain, III try.
He went up to the wheel. | closed the log
II book and sat there dreaming out and
recalling the almost forgotten incidents of
that first voyage,-the strain and stress OF
which, impacting upon my immature, ft-
teen-year-old nature, had SO nodded,
changed, strengthened, and hardened me
that now, at forty-five, | was a lucky skip
per with twenty years record of fast pas
sages, a snug bank account, and, though not
a woman hater, still woman proof. | had
never met the woman who could sway me,
much less arouse me to murder in her behalf;
though had often defended and protected
women as might defend and protect small
boy or dumb animal. recalled the woman
for whom Murdoch had ruined his life,-a
tall, willowy, handsome young woman,
whose dark, limpid eyes, when not filled
with tears, sparkled with anger or opened
wide in terror, and whose beauty was con-
tinually married by some fresh contact with
her husbands fist. | recalled this red-wfis-
kered brute, drunk most of the time, abusive
always, and my boyish ponderings as to how
such man had secured such woman.
| These things had come to me from the
daily quarres that filtered through the bulk
head from the after cabin to the messroom,
where did most of my work remembered
the practical and efficient first mate, and a
remark | had overheard him make to the
second, to the effect that if it were not for the
discipline and law he would thresh the scoun-
drel within an inch of his life, then put him
in irons and take the ship to port himself.
| And | remembered Murdoch as he was
then less practical but more sympathetic,
tall, square shouldered, careful of his dress,
and courteous in his manner, not only to
the Captains wife but to all hands.
But he was more than courteous to the
| former and how thO,1ph 7 was 7 had de-