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haunted by all the terrors of the sea,ā€”fogs, icebergs, dead ships bent upon mischief, and long sinister gales that fasten upon one like a vampire till all the strength and the spirit and even hope are gone, and one feels like the empty shell of a man. But thereā€”in those seasā€”the incident was rare enough to resemble a special arrangement of a malevolent providence, which, unless it had for its object the killing of a donkeyman and the bringing of worse than death upon Jim, appeared an utterly aimless piece of devilry. This view occurring to me took off my attention. For a time I was aware of the magistrateā€™s voice as a sound merely; but in a moment it shaped itself into distinct words ā€¦

ā€œin utter disregard of their plain duty,ā€ it said. The next sentence escaped me somehow, and then ā€¦ ā€œabandoning in the moment of danger the lives and property confided to their chargeā€ ā€¦ went on the voice evenly, and stopped. A pair of eyes under the white forehead shot darkly a glance above the edge of the paper. I looked for Jim hurriedly, as though I had expected him to disappear. He was very stillā€”but he was there. He sat pink and fair and extremely attentive. ā€œTherefore, ā€¦ā€ began the voice emphatically. He stared with parted lips, hanging upon the words of the man behind the desk. These came out into the stillness wafted on the wind made by the punkahs, and I, watching for their effect upon him, caught only the fragments of official languageā€¦ . ā€œThe Courtā€¦

Gustav So-and-so ā€¦ master ā€¦ native of Germany ā€¦ James So-and-soā€¦ mate ā€¦ certificates cancelled.ā€ A silence fell.

The magistrate had dropped the paper, and, leaning sideways on the arm of his chair, began to talk with Brierly easily. People started to move out; others were pushing in, and I also made for the door.

Outside I stood still, and when Jim passed me on his way to the gate, I caught at his arm and detained him. The look he gave discomposed me, as though I had been responsible for his state he looked at me as if I had been the embodied evil of life. ā€œItā€™s all over,ā€ I stammered. ā€œYes,ā€ he said thickly. ā€œAnd now let no man ā€¦ā€ He jerked his arm out of my grasp. I watched his back as he went away. It was a long street, and he remained in sight for some time. He walked rather slow, and straddling his legs a little, as if he had found it difficult to keep a straight line. Just before I lost him I fancied he staggered a bit.

 

ā€˜ ā€œMan overboard,ā€ said a deep voice behind me. Turning round, I saw a fellow I knew slightly, a West Australian; Chester was his name. He, too, had been looking after Jim. He was a man with an immense girth of chest, a rugged, clean-shaved face of mahogany colour, and two blunt tufts of iron-grey, thick, wiry hairs on his upper lip. He had been pearler, wrecker, trader, whaler too, I believe; in his own wordsā€”anything and everything a man may be at sea, but a pirate. The Pacific, north and south, was his proper hunting-ground; but he had wandered so far afield looking for a cheap steamer to buy. Lately he had discoveredā€”so he saidā€”a guano island somewhere, but its approaches were dangerous, and the anchorage, such as it was, could not be considered safe, to say the least of it. ā€œAs good as a gold-mine,ā€ he would exclaim. ā€œRight bang in the middle of the Walpole Reefs, and if itā€™s true enough that you can get no holding-ground anywhere in less than forty fathom, then what of that? There are the hurricanes, too. But itā€™s a first-rate thing. As good as a gold-mineā€”better! Yet thereā€™s not a fool of them that will see it. I canā€™t get a skipper or a shipowner to go near the place. So I made up my mind to cart the blessed stuff myself.ā€ ā€¦ This was what he required a steamer for, and I knew he was just then negotiating enthusiastically with a Parsee firm for an old, brig-rigged, sea-anachronism of ninety horse-power. We had met and spoken together several times. He looked knowingly after Jim. ā€œTakes it to heart?ā€ he asked scornfully. ā€œVery much,ā€

I said. ā€œThen heā€™s no good,ā€ he opined. ā€œWhatā€™s all the to-do about? A bit of assā€™s skin. That never yet made a man. You must see things exactly as they areā€”if you donā€™t, you may just as well give in at once. You will never do anything in this world. Look at me. I made it a practice never to take anything to heart.ā€ ā€œYes,ā€ I said, ā€œyou see things as they are.ā€ ā€œI wish I could see my partner coming along, thatā€™s what I wish to see,ā€ he said. ā€œKnow my partner?

Old Robinson. Yes; the Robinson. Donā€™t you know? The notorious Robinson.

The man who smuggled more opium and bagged more seals in his time than any loose Johnny now alive. They say he used to board the sealing-schooners up Alaska way when the fog was so thick that the Lord God, He alone, could tell one man from another. Holy-Terror Robinson. Thatā€™s the man. He is with me in that guano thing. The best chance he ever came across in his life.ā€ He put his lips to my ear.

ā€œCannibal?ā€”well, they used to give him the name years and years ago.

You remember the story? A shipwreck on the west side of Stewart Island; thatā€™s right; seven of them got ashore, and it seems they did not get on very well together. Some men are too cantankerous for anythingā€”donā€™t know how to make the best of a bad jobā€”donā€™t see things as they areā€”as they are, my boy! And then whatā€™s the consequence?

Obvious! Trouble, trouble; as likely as not a knock on the head; and serve ā€˜em right too. That sort is the most useful when itā€™s dead. The story goes that a boat of Her Majestyā€™s ship Wolverine found him kneeling on the kelp, naked as the day he was born, and chanting some psalm-tune or other; light snow was falling at the time. He waited till the boat was an oarā€™s length from the shore, and then up and away. They chased him for an hour up and down the boulders, till a marihe flung a stone that took him behind the ear providentially and knocked him senseless. Alone? Of course. But thatā€™s like that tale of sealing-schooners; the Lord God knows the right and the wrong of that story. The cutter did not investigate much. They wrapped him in a boat-cloak and took him off as quick as they could, with a dark night coming on, the weather threatening, and the ship firing recall guns every five minutes. Three weeks afterwards he was as well as ever. He didnā€™t allow any fuss that was made on shore to upset him; he just shut his lips tight, and let people screech. It was bad enough to have lost his ship, and all he was worth besides, without paying attention to the hard names they called him. Thatā€™s the man for me.ā€ He lifted his arm for a signal to some one down the street. ā€œHeā€™s got a little money, so I had to let him into my thing.

Had to! It would have been sinful to throw away such a find, and I was cleaned out myself. It cut me to the quick, but I could see the matter just as it was, and if I must shareā€”thinks Iā€”with any man, then give me Robinson. I left him at breakfast in the hotel to come to court, because Iā€™ve an ideaā€¦ . Ah! Good morning, Captain Robinsonā€¦ . Friend of mine, Captain Robinson.ā€

 

ā€˜An emaciated patriarch in a suit of white drill, a solah topi with a green-lined rim on a head trembling with age, joined us after crossing the street in a trotting shuffle, and stood propped with both hands on the handle of an umbrella. A white beard with amber streaks hung lumpily down to his waist. He blinked his creased eyelids at me in a bewildered way. ā€œHow do you do? how do you do?ā€ he piped amiably, and tottered. ā€œA little deaf,ā€ said Chester aside. ā€œDid you drag him over six thousand miles to get a cheap steamer?ā€ I asked. ā€œI would have taken him twice round the world as soon as look at him,ā€ said Chester with immense energy. ā€œThe steamer will be the making of us, my lad. Is it my fault that every skipper and shipowner in the whole of blessed Australasia turns out a blamed fool? Once I talked for three hours to a man in Auckland.

ā€˜Send a ship,ā€™ I said, ā€˜send a ship. Iā€™ll give you half of the first cargo for yourself, free gratis for nothingā€”just to make a good start.ā€™

Says he, ā€˜I wouldnā€™t do it if there was no other place on earth to send a ship to.ā€™ Perfect ass, of course. Rocks, currents, no anchorage, sheer cliff to lay to, no insurance company would take the risk, didnā€™t see how he could get loaded under three years. Ass! I nearly went on my knees to him. ā€˜But look at the thing as it is,ā€™ says I.

ā€˜Damn rocks and hurricanes. Look at it as it is. Thereā€™s guano there Queensland sugar-planters would fight forā€”fight for on the quay, I tell you.ā€™ ā€¦ What can you do with a fool? ā€¦ ā€˜Thatā€™s one of your little jokes, Chester,ā€™ he saysā€¦ . Joke! I could have wept.

Ask Captain Robinson hereā€¦ . And there was another shipowning fellowā€”a fat chap in a white waistcoat in Wellington, who seemed to think I was up to some swindle or other. ā€˜I donā€™t know what sort of fool youā€™re looking for,ā€™ he says, ā€˜but I am busy just now. Good morning.ā€™ I longed to take him in my two hands and smash him through the window of his own office. But I didnā€™t. I was as mild as a curate.

ā€˜Think of it,ā€™ says I. ā€˜Do think it over. Iā€™ll call to-morrow.ā€™

He grunted something about being ā€˜out all day.ā€™ On the stairs I felt ready to beat my head against the wall from vexation. Captain Robinson here can tell you. It was awful to think of all that lovely stuff lying waste under the sunā€”stuff that would send the sugar-cane shooting sky-high. The making of Queensland! The making of Queensland! And in Brisbane, where I went to have a last try, they gave me the name of a lunatic. Idiots! The only sensible man I came across was the cabman who drove me about. A broken-down swell he was, I fancy. Hey! Captain Robinson? You remember I told you about my cabby in Brisbaneā€”donā€™t you? The chap had a wonderful eye for things. He saw it all in a jiffy.

It was a real pleasure to talk with him. One evening after a devil of a day amongst shipowners I felt so bad that, says I, ā€˜I must get drunk.

Come along; I must get drunk, or Iā€™ll go mad.ā€™ ā€˜I am your man,ā€™ he says; ā€˜go ahead.ā€™ I donā€™t know what I would have done without him.

Hey! Captain Robinson.ā€

 

ā€˜He poked the ribs of his partner. ā€œHe! he! he!ā€ laughed the Ancient, looked aimlessly down the street, then peered at me doubtfully with sad, dim pupilsā€¦ . ā€œHe! he! he!ā€ ā€¦ He leaned heavier on the umbrella, and dropped his gaze on the ground. I neednā€™t tell you I had tried to get away several times, but Chester had foiled every attempt by simply catching hold of my coat. ā€œOne minute.

Iā€™ve a notion.ā€ ā€œWhatā€™s your infernal notion?ā€ I exploded at

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