e a grave, and stood watchful and mute under the
stars, his night-shirt fluttering like a flag--then, without a sound,
sank down again. He was born on the shores of the Pentland Firth. In his
youth he attained the rank of harpooner in Peterhead whalers. When he
spoke of that time his restless grey eyes became still and cold, like
the loom of ice. Afterwards he went into the East Indian trade for the
sake of change. He had commanded the Narcissus since she was built. He
loved his ship, and drove her unmercifully; for his secret ambition was
to make her accomplish some day a brilliantly quick passage which would
be mentioned in nautical papers. He pronounced his owner's name with a
sardonic smile, spoke but seldom to his officers, and reproved errors
in a gentle voice, with words that cut to the quick. His hair was
iron-grey, his face hard and of the colour of pump-leather. He shaved
every morning of his life--at six--but once (being caught in a fierce
hurricane eighty miles southwest of Mauritius) he had missed three
consecutive days. He feared naught but an unforgiving God, and wished
to end his days in a little house, with a plot of ground attached--far in
the country--out of sight of the sea.

He, the ruler of that minute world, seldom descended from the Olympian
heights of his poop. Below him--at his feet, so to speak--common mortals
led their busy and insignificant lives. Along the main deck, Mr. Baker
grunted in a manner bloodthirsty and innocuous; and kept all our noses
to the grindstone, being--as he once remarked--paid for doing that very
thing. The men working about the deck were healthy and contented--as most
seamen are, when once well out to sea. The true peace of God begins at
any spot a thousand miles from the nearest land; and when He sends there
the messengers of His might it is not in terrible wrath against
crime, presumption, and folly, but paternally, to chasten simple
hearts--ignorant hearts that know nothing of life, and beat undisturbed
by envy or greed.

In the evening the cleared decks had a reposeful aspect, resembling the
autumn of the earth. The sun was sinking to rest, wrapped in a mantle of
warm clouds. Forward, on the end of the spare spars, the boatswain
and the carpenter sat together with crossed arms; two men friendly,
powerful, and deep-chested. Beside them the short, dumpy sailmaker--who
had been in the Navy--related, between the whiffs of his pipe, impossible
stories about Admirals. C