Perrysburg journal. (Perrysburg, Wood Co., O. [Ohio]) 186?-1965, 1915-03-11
CHAPTER I.
The Derelict!

the more particular one SHoulu per
haps say that he swept his gaze
over that arm Of the sea, which
forms the roadstead Of Nagasah
harbor.
1t was no new occupation for Gaf-
ford. Many an evening before he
had lounged on the piers and turned
his eyes about the harbor and
jingled the yen in his pockets,
unless, perhaps, the yen were not
there.
Presently he leaned his shoulders
against some bales, TERED behind
him, drew paper and tobacco from
a pocket, and rolled cigarette, with
the deftness of practise.
He lit it and let the first whiff of
smoke dribble from his lips. Again
his eyes, brown and seemingly. partly
filmed, turned narrowed pupils idly
across the glinting waters OF the
bay.
Without any conscious perception,
he noted the shippingSthe tugs
putting fussily about their business;
the great bankas loaded with, their
varied cargoes; motor Elunch cut
ting white path from a pier; the
sampans, like water beetles, skim
ming here and there.
His gaze lifted and went farther
out to where a great gray shape
showed leviathan of war wallow--
ing in the tide. The sun-fag dropped
at her stern, it's crimson rays cast
into ruddy radiance by the wester-
ing sun. The sound Of bugle
waited softly to his ears. Gatford
blew out more smoke.
muttered. "Sharp as the devil and
shrewd-rather. The koru is some
boat. Superdreadnaught, thirteen
inch rifles. All modern improve-
ments, as the householders say. Oh,
we'll" He left his conclusion un-
finished and tossed the cigarette
into the tide. He turned his half,
glazed eyes still farther out beyond
where the war-ship lay.
They fell upon trim white shape,
low, her funnel at rakish angle,
every line of her speaking plainly
of potential speed.
"Yacht," said Gaiford, mentally to
himself. Turbine. for a guess.
Outrun anything but torpedo de,
stroyer, and make it hustle some
He wriggled the nal ked toes OF
pare 1OOI anu Ptliiilcu. ooiiS haS
meat and Gamma eat, and some can
eat and hae ma meat" he quoted,
and stretched his arms inside his
cotton shirt
"Ho humT said GaPc7 |; its a
hell of worldw
Again he ,ingled the y~A. "To eat
or not to eat-that is the question:
he went on after an interval. ITO
eat or to dream-whether to pur--
chase the plebeian howl of rice and
fish. and dull the voice of hunger or
WOO the insidious solace of the in
spissated juice of poppies, and-for-
get? Well"
A ray of the sinking sun fell upon
him and lit up his face and figure.
1t was a gaunt shape, though one
which showed that it had once been
that of well-proportioned man.
The bony framework still dis
played broad shoulders, though in
height he was certainly not more
than five-and-eight. Under hair as
black as that of the natives of Nip
pon, his face was lean, with the high
cheek bones of the fighter, and a
square set of chin and jaw, which
should have given a firm set to his
lips rather than the lax droop, which
seemed to have become habitual
now.
His cotton shirt, open at the neck,
exposed the framework of deep,
full chest, covered with emaciated
muscles, which might once have been
elastic and full. To all of this the
lack luster eyes of brown gave the
kew. The man was a derelict-one
of those whites who, from one cause
or another, have sunk beneath the
bondage of the poppv-who spend
their time and brain IL earning the
wherewithal to crafty he craving
which only opium can nsfy. He
was a self-made slave.
The waterfront Of Nag hsaki knew
him we'll. Beyond the d.y, when he
came there, they knew him not at
all. That day had been three years
ago.
Since then he had lived his hand
to-mouth existence, gathering his
few ven by work as a dock-hand, q
boatman, a guide for tourists, by
petty work or pettier mavery, as
the case might be; spending them
for food for bare existence, clothing
sufficient to cover his body, and the
pleasure of the opium pipe. Yet
even in his sudden dreams, no on'
had ever heard him mutter of the
time before he came into that life.
But it was of that time that CAT
ford was thinking as he slumpe'
against the bales. There were times
when the wharf rats of Nagasak
forgot that the sallow stranger, VIII
spoke to them in their own Ian
guage, was not actually one Of them
selves. There were times when fo
days Gafford forgot it himself AM
gazed about him in a sort of sotte'
content. But there were other times
Today as his eyes swept the trim
lines of the white boat, far out i
the bay, vagrant breeze had lifte
other bars of red and white tina
those of the sun-fag to his vision.
For a moment they had streame
before him-red and white about
star-studded field of blue. By som
buried izStinct he had felt a mt
mentary Strengthening his shou