tion of his claw. He
could never get it to hold, and I remember as an undertone to Pulz's
reading, the rumble of strange, exasperated oaths. Whatever the evening's
lecture, it always ended with the book on alchemy. These men had no
perspective by which to judge such things. They accepted its speculations
and theories at their face value. Extremely laughable were the
discussions that followed. I often wished the shade of old Duvall could
be permitted to see these, his last disciples, spelling out dimly his
teachings, mispronouncing his grave utterances, but believing utterly.

Dr. Schermerhorn appeared on deck seldom. When he did, often his fingers
held a pen which he had forgotten to lay aside. I imagined him
preoccupied by some calculation of his own, but the forecastle, more
picturesquely, saw him as guarding constantly the heavy casket he had
himself carried aboard. He breathed the air, walked briskly, turned with
the German military precision at the end of his score of strides, and
re-entered his cabin at the lapse of the half hour. After he had gone,
remained Percy Darrow leaning indolently against the taffrail, his
graceful figure swaying with the ship's motion, smoking always the
corn-husk Mexican cigarettes which he rolled with one hand. He seemed
from that farthest point aft to hold in review the appliances, the
fabric, the actions, yes, even the very thoughts, of the entire ship.
From them he selected that on which he should comment or with which he
should play, always with a sardonic, half-serious, quite wearied and
indifferent manner. His inner knowledge, viewed by the light of this
manner or mannerism, was sometimes uncanny, though perhaps the sources of
his information were commonplace enough, after all. Certainly he always
viewed with amusement his victim's wonder.

Thus one evening at the close of our day-watch on deck, he approached
Handy Solomon. It was at the end of ten days, on no one of which had the
seaman failed to tinker away at his steel claw. Darrow balanced in front
of him with a thin smile.

"Too bad it doesn't work, my amiable pirate," said he. "It would be so
handy for fighting--See here," he suddenly continued, pulling some object
from his pocket, "here's a pipe; present to me; I don't smoke 'em. Twist
her halfway, like that, she comes out. Twist her halfway, like this, she
goes in. That's your principle. Give her back to me when you get
through."

He thrust the briar pipe into the man