When a man makes up his mind to do a certain thing, half the trouble and worry over the matter are things of the past. It makes no difference whether he is able to accomplish his purpose or not, the agonies of vacillation are gone. Over the future he has but little control. Over his present actions he has complete.

There is always a satisfied feeling within a man when he has thought over the matter and decided upon it absolutely in regard to what action he will take.

This was the feeling I possessed during the six weeks I was on the beach, waiting for the return of the Arrow. Mr. Ropesend still had faith in me and I was to take her out on her return from the River Plate.

The matter I had decided upon, however, was not exactly of a nautical nature,{266} and I went to every known friend and acquaintance of Captain Crojack’s to get the information necessary to enable me to accomplish my purpose.

The apathy of the old sailor’s friends shown in the search for his niece galled me. I sometimes felt almost glad that the old man was dead, so he could not see the indifference of people he once thought so much of.

Brown, who was on waiting orders like myself, stayed with me night and day. He did not go to the office, and avoided all other society as much as possible, except when helping me in my search.

In this manner we passed the time until the vessel arrived. Then we took up our quarters on board. I was placed in command, but it was with anything but a feeling of joy that I stepped again on that quarter-deck, so connected with sad memories.

Every plank seemed to recall those terrible days when I was, perforce, a pirate. However, as I said before, a sailor has but{267} little time to indulge in memories, so I shook myself together and started to get ready to put to sea.

Brown I had with me, but, although he had learned a good deal of nautical affairs, it was necessary that the ship should have two experienced men to relieve me. So I set out immediately to find them.

Our adventures had become thoroughly known to all long before this, and Brown and I both suffered from the charity peculiar to nearly all human beings. It was well known that we had joined the convicts, and the busy world had no time to waste discussing any excuse or necessity for our having done so. It was enough that we did it. The sensational newspapers offered a hundred reasons for our having done it,—all of them the worst possible ones,—and the people could take their choice or let them alone. They appeared to let them alone in order to form original ones nearly as bad, that were too unreasonable to bear discussion.

Boarding-house keepers eyed me curiously{268} when I entered their dens. Small knots of rough-looking men gathered and whispered whenever I entered any of the many dives where, I knew from experience, mates were in the habit of going to indulge their hard pleasures. Once or twice personal remarks were made in regard to myself in a tone loud enough for me to hear.

At one bar a big red-faced longshoreman made a jeering allusion to the part I played in joining the men who had taken my ship. It was a foul statement and I felt the blood rush into my face.

Then I turned on the ruffian like a flash.

It was a foolish thing to do, but the talk of so many had rankled in my heart until I lost control of my temper and I felt that I must bear it no longer.

I did not stop to argue the matter and set his reasons for my actions aright, but I lashed out and stretched him stiff on the floor. Then I looked the group over carefully to see if there were any matters of importance I might miss. But they were silent to a man. I turned and walked{269} slowly out of the room and down the street. I was not followed and I soon found myself on the Arrow’s deck with little hope of securing my mates.

It was late in the evening when I returned, and Brown, who had been at work on the ship’s stores, had gone up-town.

There was nothing for him to do on board after knocking off work, so I supposed he had strolled up the street. He had never left me before to go off in the evening alone, but, as we were to sail within the week, I supposed he had some private affairs to attend to.

I finished supper alone and then lit my pipe and strolled along the decks. The question of securing mates I would leave to the office and would trouble myself no more with the matter.

Men were lounging about on the slip between the vessels I passed, and gangs of longshoremen were leaving for the night.

I walked down a slip to where a Norwegian bark was being warped into her berth. She had just arrived and her black{270} sides were gray with crusted salt, telling of a long cruise and careless officers. The men on the t’gallant fo’castle had a line to the capstan and were walking it in with a will to the time of a chorus of hoarse voices.

Soon the vessel fell alongside the slip and I saw the voyage end. Then I turned and walked up the street, thinking of how a man can enjoy life after a six months’ cruise on deep water.

I soon became aware of two men following close behind me, who were talking away at a great rate.

“Yes, but th’ case av mine, it was different,” said one. “They come a-crowdin’ over th’ side like a swarm av rats before I knowed what their lay was. B’ th’ soul of St. Patrick! But didn’t I wade inter thim! Bang! Slam! I must have druv a whole ship’s company inter th’ main-deck like so many trunnels, an’ as fast as I druv thim in their fri’nds would pull thim out, till nigh on to three hunderd av thim hit me a clip on me burgoo case all t’onct{271}—”

“Scutt! ye bloody old red-headed liar; there wasn’t half that many in the whole outfit.”

“’Pon me whurd, for a fact, Garnett, ’tis outrajis th’ way ye have av takin’ an honest man up whin he’s tellin’ a straight yarn. I’ve shifted more’n one man’s ballast for less.”

“Now, by the Great Eternal, if I wasn’t so old an’ stove up I’d make ye prove that, ye braggart,” growled the other; “but never mind, I’m too old to quarrel, as it affects my narvous system enormous. Stick to facts, man, always. I’ve no doubt that you were so scared that you thought they was a thousand. You always was sort o’ timid at times. ’Twas too bad about Bull Gore, though, wasn’t it? I’d never thought to see him come aback all standing like that. But it’s generally the way with folks what always think themselves better’n anybody else.”

“No more would I have thought it, Garnett. T’ think av him turnin&rsqu............