AFTER supper Zack Green came on deck, and, seating himself on the bitt coverings near the port quarter-rail, lit a villanous looking cigar and began to smoke.

We had run into the southeast trade and were reaching along to the southward under skysails. It was just seven bells and O’Toole, the first mate, had half an hour more of his watch on deck. The evening was clear, and the lumpy little trade-clouds flew merrily away to the northwest. Not even a skysail halyard had been touched for a week, so O’Toole lounged carelessly fore and aft on the quarter-deck, stopping at every turn when he reached the skipper to see if he had anything to say.

In good weather Captain Green’s discipline was not too strict, and he would often talk to the officer on watch. “I was thinking,” said he, without taking his eyes from the horizon-line, “about this transportation or emigration of souls you hear so much about nowadays. You know what I mean,—one person’s soul getting the weather-gauge of another’s; and do you know, by Gorry, I believe there’s some truth in it”

“Sure! No fear, ’pon me whurd; I know it’s a fact,” said O’Toole.

“There’s no doubt of it.”

“I was just thinking av a case in hand, an’, ’pon me whurd, ’twas typical av th’ machination. D’ye remember owld man Crojack? But ye must, fer he was one av th’ owld shell-back wind-jammers av yer time, an’ a man to decorate a quarter-deck.

“Ye remember th’ time he took Mr. Jones to Chaney? That’s th’ case in hand. ’Twas transmigration av sowl fer sowl, sure.

“He was a contumacious rask’l, this Jones, an’ ’twas by this token I came to like him.

“His governor offered Crojack one thousand dollars if he would take him to sea an’ bring him back again minus th’ unaccountable thirst he had fer iced wines an’ owld liquors. An’ th’ owld man did it.

“There was money enough in th’ Jones family. But that is where th’ trouble came in. Th’ young divil must have had nigh onto a ton av stuff sent outside th’ bar to meet us th’ day we sailed. Bottles av all kinds came over th’ rail whin th’ owld man lay th’ topsail to th’ mast an’ waited to see what th’ small boat ahead av us wanted. Crojack didn’t object, fer he reckoned to lock th’ stuff in th’ lazarette an’ sell it at a fair figure in Hong-Kong. I remember th’ outfly th’ youngster made over th’ grub. We were living better than any ship in th’ Chaney trade, an’ more like a man-o’-war than any trader afloat, but nothing would do him.

“Wan morning he came to th’ owld man an’ said there was a bug in his bunk. ‘Likely as not,’ said Crojack; ‘’pon me sowl, there’s wan in mine.’

“If it hadn’t been fer me th’ owld man would have made out av th’ wines, but when he had th’ stuff locked fast th’ young man came to me, so sorrowful like, I didn’t have th’ heart to refuse him th’ loan av a capstan-bar. Thin we went halves, an’ as fast as we’d drink th’ stuff he would fill th’ bottles with good salt water an’ put them back again.

“‘Faith, ye have th’ makin’ av an uncommon nose on ye,’ said th’ owld man one day to th’ young Jones. He was suspicious av th’ color. “’Tis a good rule not to belave anything ye see an’ nothing ye hear,’ said that Amos, cocking his eye at me. An’ th’ owld man never thought to examine his lazarette till we made Singapore. Thin we came near having a mutiny aboard.

“After this we grew mighty quiet, fer our grog was cut off intirely, an’ we began to nose around fer something to scratch. Jones drank all th’ Worcestershire sauce from th’ cabin mess, an’ wound up on th’ alcohol av th’ varnish tins in th’ carpenter’s room.

“I was feeling blue, an’ by th’ time we struck into th’ hot calms av th’ Chaney Sea I was seeing queer things. Wan stifling, foggy morning I could stand it no longer, fer I’d had a nightmare that set me shaking. I went aft to th’ owld man an’ said, all tremblin’ like, ‘Captain, there’s something wrong on this here ship, an’ I had a bad night last night.’

“‘Anything wrong for’ard?’ said he. ‘I thought ye were man enough to manage a lot av fellers like these.’

“’‘Tain’t that,’ I said. ‘Nothin’ th’ matter there.’

“‘Well, what in blazes is it?’ he roared. ‘Out with it. What’s th’ matter with ye?’

“I must have looked pretty rough, fer he kept his eyes on me, staring like, but I was a little nervous about telling my suffering. Finally I had to let it come.

“‘It’s like this,’ said I. ‘Last night I lay out on the main-hatch durin’ my watch below. I was draming av Billy Malone’s wake,—Bill, yer know, that used to be mate with Cutwater,—an’ I could see it all so plain, even Bill’s pet goat. Th’ goat had a pigtail as long as yer arrum hanging right under his chin, an’ his eyes were bad looking. I gives th’ baste a kick, an’ Malone that’s dead sat right up an’ grinned horrible. Thin he called fer water, an’ it seemed like th’ new taste was too much fer him. He drank an’ drank an’ swelled an’ swelled till he got as big as th’ mainsail, an’ all th’ time I heard th’ splash, splash, splash av th’ liquid washing down his innerds. Thin he seemed to overshadow me an’ thin draw slowly away, beck’ning me to follow. An’ I tried to follow an’ woke up. ’Pon me whurd, fer a fact, may th’ saints belave me, there he was drifting off th’ port beam, an’ I could hear th’ splash, splash, splash fer a minute afterwards.’

“‘Is that all?’ said th’ owld man.

“‘No, sir; ever since we struck this calm, three days ago, I’ve been feeling quare like, an’ I ain’t slept overmuch—an’, an’—well, if ye have a drap av th’ craythur it would do me good.’

“‘Go for’ard an’ send th’ carpenter aft, an’ then come here.’

“So I did, an’ whin I got there th’ owld man give me an uncommon long grog.

“‘Now,’ said he, ‘clear away th’ after battery an’ get out th’ muskets. Ye air a fine dramist, Mr. O’Toole.’ So I lent a hand an’ got th’ two six-pounders we carried on th’ poop clear fer firing. Thin I looks out th’ muskets. Amos Jones came on deck an’ saw th’ manoeuvres.

“‘What t’ell!’ said he. ‘Be ye going to engage in an engagement? Where’s th’ inimy?’ For th’ wasn’t a rag above th’ sea-line.

“‘Pirits,’ said Chips, ramming a bag av powder into wan av th’ guns.

“‘Ye don’t tell!’ said Amos.

“‘Fact,’ said Chips; ‘an’ now if you’ll pass me a ball I’ll finish this roarer.’

“But there wasn’t wan aboard. No, sir; powder there was in plenty, but divil a ball aboard th’ ship.

“Th’ owld man swore, an’ we hunted all tween-decks, but ’t wasn’t any use, so we dealt out th’ muskets an’ waited for night.

“Pretty soon Amos Jones came on deck again.

“‘I have it,’ said he. ‘Here’s th’ thing,’ an’ he held up a bottle filled full av bullets an’ nails. ‘Stave me, but this is good ammunition; ’twill fit to a T.’ An’ sure enough it did. It fitted th’ bore av th’ little guns exactly. A most uncommon bad thing to have hove at ye close up.

“Th’ fog held an’ at night it was blacker than th’ inside av th’ galley stove-pipe. We had begun to laugh at th’ skipper, but he said nothing, except that we’d see something before morning or else he’d put me in irons fer the biggest liar afloat. I was tired that night, but I kept awake an’ was leaning on th’ port rail about midnight. Suddenly I heard a rippling in th’ calm ocean off th’ port beam. I passed th’ whurd an’ we lay waiting, Amos standing at th’ lanyard av th’ port gun.

“All av a suddin we saw thim. Two junks right alongside jammed to th’ rail with pigtails.

“‘Turn her loose!’ bawled th’ owld man, an’ Amos let her go slap into thim. That bottle burst close aboard, fer ye never heard sich yelling. Thin they ranged alongside an’ was fast to us, an’ they swarmed over th’ rail like so many rats.

“Well, there was bloody murder aboard us fer half an hour. ’Twas a nasty fight an’ things looked bad at wan time. But Amos trained a culverin down th’ main-deck an’ gave thim ground glass, bullets, an’ lug-bolts to th’ quane’s taste.

“Thin we cleared up th’ mess an’ they let go. But Amos had got it bad.

“A big pigtail had hit him a chip in th’ thick av his leg, an’ he was bleeding fer further orders.

“There we were, two days’ sail from Hong-Kong, an’ no doctur aboard.

“We tied him up th’ best we could an’ drew th’ hooker with th’ quarter-boats ranged ahead. Finally th’ air come an’ we went along.

“Whin we made th’ harbor we had th’ doctur, an’ he said,—

“‘Lost too much blood.’

“‘Well,’ says Crojack, ‘there’s plenty av it in Chaney.’

“‘Fact,’ said th’ doctur, an’ he brought th’ first loafer he found aboard.

“‘Now,’ says he, ‘I’ll have sum av yer juice, me boy, an’ pay ye tin dollars fer it.’

“Th’ Chaneyman was scared at first, but th’ doctur said he would have him skinned alive if he wouldn’t trade, so he finally did.

“He guv him some spirits an’ hitched th’ yeller boy’s artery to Amos Jones’s. Thin th’ natur av th’ proceedings did th’ rest.

“We shut off grog on th’ voyage home an’ Amos acted like he was trying to become a dacent member av his father’s church. Whin he landed an’ said good-by, Crojack was making his reckoning fer that thousand dollars.

“He went to th’ office wan day an’ there he met Amos Jones senior, an’ he reminded th’ gent av his debt. ‘What?’ bawled Jones. ‘Cured him, do ye say? Well, he was bad enough before, drinking like a gentleman, but ye’ve ruined him intirely. Here he is getting biled rice cooked fer every meal an’ getting drunk on Chaney saki every night. No, sir, not a cent from me, sir.’ An’ they say he cried like th’ good owld father he was.”

O’Toole stopped here and went to the break of the poop. When he returned, Zack Green was thinking. “It may be so,” said the skipper; “but did you ever hear what become of the Chinaman?”

“That I did,” said O’Toole.

“What?” asked Zack Green.

“Well, Amos Jones was a frind av mine, so, if ye’ll excuse me, I’ll not say. ’Pon me whurd, I won’t.”