ke a pack of yaller dogs fer
men, don't ye think he doesn't know how to handle yaller dogs. But I
s'pose ye are jus' as good to shoot at as better. Now I gut ye aboard
this craft--me, Stubbs," he pointed to his breast with a thick
forefinger, "an' ye're goneter earn yer grub afore ye're done."

"Shanghaied--we was shanghaied," ventured Splinter.

"You was, was ye? D' ye think ye could make anyone b'lieve a man in
his sober senses would shanghai the likes of you? But howsomever
that may be, here you is and here you stays till ye git ashore.
Then you has yer chi'ce er gittin' shot in front er gittin' shot
behind,--gittin' shot like white men er gittin' shot like niggers.
'Cause I tells you right now thet in all the shootin', I'll be
hangin' round where I can spot the first man who goes the wrong way.
An'," he drew his weapon from his pocket, "I can shoot."

He placed a bullet within two inches of the hand of a man who was
leaning against the rail. The group huddled more closely together like
frightened sheep.

"Now," he concluded, "ye're goneter git more exercise an' less grub
arter this. Tuck it away fer future ref'rence thet th' next time yer
cap'n talks to yer ye'd better show a little life. Now, jus' ter prove
ye appreciate what he said, cheer. An' cheer good, ye dogs."

They let out a howl.

"Now back to yer kennels!"

They slunk away, crowding one another in their effort to get from the
range of the weapon which Stubbs still carelessly held pointed at
their heels.

It was several days after this that Wilson was pacing the deck alone
one night rather later than usual. The sky was filled with big,
top-heavy clouds which rolled across the purple, blotting out every
now and then the half moon which sprinkled the sea with silver
butterflies. The yacht quivered as though straining every timber, but
it looked to Wilson a hopeless task ever to run out from under the
dark cup and unchanging circumference. It seemed as though one might
go on this path through eternity with the silver butterflies ever
fluttering ahead into the boundless dark.

He lounged up to Martin at the wheel. The latter, a sturdy, somewhat
reserved man, appeared glad to see him and showed evidence of being
disturbed about something. He frequently glanced up from the lighted
compass before the wheel as though on the point of speaking, but
turned back to his task each time, reconsidering his impulse. Finally
he cleared his throat and remarked wi