anksgiving
to his lips.

Coming along before the storm, but on a convergent course which would
soon bring her in the big ship's wake, was the steamer _Proserpine_
towing her barges. Scotty knew them; every detail was pictured on his
brain. He knew that big funnel, and big nigger-head in the bow; he knew
the stump bowsprit of the _Champion_, with its one-chain bobstay; and he
knew the _Anita_ behind her, straight-stemmed, black and dingy.

And as he looked there came to him the conviction that here was the test
required of him--that if he, the Jonah of many ships, should remain
where he was, there would be one more catastrophe on the list, while
some maneuvering of fate would again send him to sea; but that if he rid
the ship of his presence, there was a chance, not only for the ship, but
for himself.

Mounting the forecastle deck--where he had a right to be--he watched and
waited until the three crafts astern were as one in the wake; then,
shedding his oilskins and boots, he sprang overboard. He heard the
shouts of a shipmate, and as he came to the surface, saw men on the
rail, looking and waving. He saw the second mate heave over a life-buoy,
but it fell short, and he did not swim for it. The ship went on, for a
square-rigged craft may not round to in a gale.

Scotty swam shoreward at first, for he knew that the steamer and tow
would make leeway. On the tops of the seas he took his bearings, and
then swam, or paddled, according to the inclination of the steamer's
bow. In the hollows he swam towards her. Nearer and nearer she came, and
at last he began hailing; but not a man could be seen on her deck, and
the bridge was empty; the captain or mate on duty was in the warm
pilot-house, no doubt--after the manner of tug-men. Hailing frantically,
he met the wash of her bow wave and went under; when he came up she was
past him, with her white-painted name staring at him. No one had seen or
heard him.

The _Champion_ was coming, and he swam into her path, barely missing a
clutch at the steel towline whizzing past him. He hailed her, but there
was no response. How could they hear, in the teeth of that furious
wind? Realizing this, he saved his breath.

The barge, rolling along before the sea, was making good weather of it,
yet she lifted and plunged heavily as the big billows passed beneath
her--the chain bobstay often rising six feet out of water, and again
sinking as far below. To catch this chain was all that he could