e on his
shoulder.

"Hardly that," I laughed. "He says he's a sailor with a Manila thirst in
his throat and no job."

Petrak swung his burden to the deck and squared his shoulders, making a
gesture, which he intended as a salute to the captain.

"Petrak's my name, sir," he said, addressing Captain Riggs. "I've been
bo'sun, sir, discharged out of the _Southern Cross_ when she was sold in
Singapore, and shipped out in the _H.B. Leeds_ that went down in a
typhoon. Junk picked us up, sir, what was left of us, and I lost all my
discharges and can't get a ship out of here. I'm smart, sir, and strong,
if I do look small. It's because I ain't had no wictuals to speak of,
sir."

"Ever handle steam-wheel?"

"Aye, sir. One trip out of Cardiff to Delaware Breakwater in the
_Skipton Castle_. Stood wheel--"

"See the mate," said Captain Riggs, and Petrak went out, deserting my
baggage.

A black boy in a scarlet _sarong_ took my bag away to my stateroom, but I
went up to the hurricane-deck, where I found a grass-chair under an
awning and sat down to enjoy a cigar.

Just above where the _Kut Sang_ lay was the Bridge of Spain, presenting a
moving panorama of the many races that mingle in the Philippine capital.
The river itself was alive with _cascoes_ being poled about by half-naked
natives, the families of the crews doing the cooking and primitive
housekeeping on the half-decks, while the family fighting-cocks strutted
on the roofs of the boats and crowed defiance to each other.

On the opposite side of the river was the walled city and the moss-grown
walls of Fort Santiago, and on both banks were steamers and river-craft,
making a colourful and noisy scene.

The Rev. Luther Meeker was preaching to the group before the Sailors'
Home, and I watched him until he closed the service and started toward
the dock, two men carrying his little street-organ behind him.

Mr. Harris, the mate, was doing the final work of getting the steamer
ready to sail, and was preparing to cast off the lines, when a dray,
loaded with boxes, pulled up alongside the vessel.

"What ye got there?" demanded Harris. "That ain't for this packet--git
out the way thar!"

Just then a man in white darted out of the office of the harbour-police
station, and, holding up his hand, cried to Harris:

"One minute--one minute!"

"One minute yer grandmother!" retorted Harris angrily. "Who be you to
hold up this ship! Vamose!" he roared to the driver of the dr