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plain that some one was overboard; nothing else ever excites the dock loungers enough to make them gather excitedly together at the string-piece of the pier. Grasping a coil of rope that hung on a belaying pin under the main rigging, he gave it a throw that sent it flying, lariat fashion, out over the water. the end whizzed down he climbed over the rail and in a moment more was up to his waist in the water, clinging to the rope with one hand and holding the drowning man's head by the hair above water. Finding the man docile, the mate supported him by twining his legs under his arms and then made the loose end of the rope fast to him and bawled to the men on deck to "hist away, keerful like," which was done.

The mate himself scrambled up hand over fist and lent a hand, as he said, in getting the man on deck, where he was soon stretched out in the sun. The ship's boy was sent to ask a policeman to call an ambulance, while the mate tore the man's shirt open, wiped his face, neck, and chest dry with a towel and then, finding that he breathed regularly, poured a liberal dose of whiskey, which the ship's steward had brought from the cabin with the towel, down the man's throat, " 'jest to take the wire edge off the salt water he's been a swallerin'," as he said.

Under this treatment the man revived quite a little, but he "was loony yet," as the mate said afterward.

"Did they both sink?" asked the

man.

"Was there more on ye?" said the mate.

Aye. Did the collision sink ither vessel?"

"What ye givin' us?" The man looked around as if bewildered and then said:

"I say, matey, what ship is this?" "The Governor George T. Oglesby, of Bath," said the mate.

"I seed she was a Yankee," said the man, glancing with admiring eyes aloft. Then he noticed the riggers and the tackle by which the cargo was hoisted in. He looked perplexed at this.

"Did ye have to jettison the cargo? Carried away every rag, eh, matey? Bendin' on new sails, eh?”

The mate looked puzzled. "What ever is he talking about?" he said.

"What did ye make yer longitude, to-day?" continued the man. The mate turned to the stevedore and said:

"He thinks he's at sea. Crazy as a loon."

Just then the pilot of a Wall Street ferry-boat, starting to leave the adjoining slip, blew a long blast on the steam whistle. The man raised himself on one elbow, looked off over the bow of the ship where the end of the jib-boom seemed about to poke itself into the second story window of a red brick building, looked at the long row of old-fashioned buildings to the south, and then at the endless number of spars that towered at the adjoining piers.

God," he said, "this is New York. How in did I get here?"

Then he fainted away. The mate, thinking he had died, had him carried aft and laid out beside the wheel-house and covering him with a tarpaulin left him there to await the arrival of the ambulance.

An hour and a quarter later the ambulance with much clanging of the gong worked its way through the trucks on the pier and stopped at the gangway ladder. The ship's boy had found a policeman around in Water Street talking to a young woman who was selling early editions of evening papers to downtown merchants. The policeman, after hearing what the boy had to say, had walked down to the pier, where he hailed the stevedore.

"Is it all roight about th' ambylince?" he said.

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Yis," said the stevedore. Then the policeman walked hastily to the Old Slip station, where the sergeant, after hearing the facts repeated twice, telegraphed for the Chambers Street ambulance.

Walking up the inclined ladder to the ship's rail the surgeon met the mate, who said that the patient was dead. The surgeon was about to return to the hospital, at this, and notify the keeper of the morgue, but concluded to examine the patient to see whether he really was dead, and on laying his hand over the man's heart found it still beating.

Among the flotsam and jetsam of the

street that had swirled in behind the ambulance as it headed out on the pier were The. Kelly, the keeper of a sailor's boarding-house in Peck Slip, and a Sifter of Rumors. Kelly looked at the face of the half-drowned sailor in a queer way for a moment and then said hastily to the surgeon.

"It's Jack Servenmalet, surgeon. He's a frind o' moine, and ef yous can pull 'im through Oi'll take 'im."

The surgeon thought he could pull him through, and the man was accordingly bundled into the ambulance and carried to Kelly's house. As the vehicle left the pier Kelly turned to the Sifter of Rumors and said:

"It's Jack Servenmalet as was wint last out of this port as carpenter into the Nucleus, Captain McDonald, for Rio, and she given up for lost and the insurance paid on ship and cargo more nor a year agone. How'd he git here? Will yez tell me that, now?"`

That was a question no one about the ship could answer. The mate of the big ship, the men about her deck, the loungers on the adjoining pier were all questioned, but not one of them had seen him before Spook Maguire, one of the loungers, so called because of his affection for the mysterious, saw him struggling to get his fingers into the seams between the planks near the waterline of the big clipper.

The Sifter of Rumors followed the ambulance to Kelly's place along with the usual riffraff that forms the wake of these vehicles as they plough their way about the streets of New York. Kelly's place was a four-story brick building, painted yellow, with a cheerful saloon in the basement and a barren sitting-room on the first floor front. Above this the floors were cut up into little rooms with two beds in each of them, except those at the front ends of the halls, which had but one bed each. These were for the use of the mates and captains who sometimes patronized Kelly.

Into one of these hall-rooms Jack was carried and there cared for by the surgeon.

The. Kelly and the Sifter of Rumors helped to remove the man's clothing and rubbed him with dry cloths and did such other things as are commonly done for the partly drowned. After a

while Jack opened his eyes, and the surgeon gave him a stimulant of some kind that still further revived him. After looking at each of the three men present severely, he recognized Kelly.

"It's all straight and reg'lar," he asked, "about this bein' New York?" "Yis, hyar y' are, Jack," said Kelly. "What Oi'm wantin' to ax yez is, how'd yez git hyar, and whar yez might av left the Nucleus? "

"Aye, the Nucleus," said Jack in a low voice, with his eyes on the ceiling as if he were looking through it to something a good ways beyond. "She's in port, The.; I don't understand it, but I'd a been there now ef I had kept my eye on the Atlantic steamship when we bumped up alongside of her. I was picking a rope yarn as was dangling about on the spanker boom, ontidy as a cobweb in a parlor, when her guard-rail struck us on the stabbord quarter, and the shock threw me into the water. While I was floundering about some one grabbed me by the hair, and the next I knew I was on the deck of that 'ere big clipper at the foot of Wall Street.”

"He's wandering yet," said the surgeon to Kelly. "The Atlantic, you know, was the big steam packet that sailed for Liverpool some time in the fifties and was never heard of again. There were several hundred passengers on her."

"Aye," said Jack. "The deck was covered with 'em, but I was under water and out agin that suddin I don't know whether she lowered a boat or not."

'Tell us all about it," said the surgeon, whose curiosity happened just then to be stronger than his professional zeal.

"Give it to us straight, Jack," added Kelly. "Take yer deparcher from the Hook, see? Did Spencer thump all hands before yez dropped the Neversink as Oi promised yez?

"Aye," said Jack, rallying, at the thought, "Spencer was as handy with his daddles as any mate I was ever ship-mates with, and he didn't limit himself in no wise in the matter o' implements for the crackin' of a sailorman on the nut. Bein' somewhat quicker on my pins than the most of 'em, ef I do say it, I didn't get my sheer of the

hard knocks, but don't none of you go to thinkin' he was that partial as to neglect me altogether. It was a heap more knocks nor doughboys for all hands.

"Hows'ever, that's nither here nor there. We had fair slants of wind till we be to strike the no'theast trades, somewhere in about 21 degrees of latitude, and mayhap 32 of longitude, and then the weather began to thicken and the glass went down ter❜ble. The wind, as had been singin' sweet for a week or more in the riggin', begin for to tune up. That was during the afternoon watch, and we on deck, somewheres about June 21. The watch be to get in the kites suddin', see, and then all hands was turned to to snug her down.

""Twant no reg'lar storm, d'ye mind that. The weather just thickened till the sun got the color of a ghost, then went out like a fog had covered it, and the wind increasin' sure and steady like, and the waves rollin' up faster nor I'm tellin' of it. Not that we had much time for noticin' these things; that 'ere Spencer were right after us. First he scattered us about stowin' the flyin' jib and the fore and mizzen to'-gallants'ls. Then he bunched us into two lots and driv one on 'em to the main to'gallant and t'other to brail the spanker. By the time that was done the wind was boomin', and the rain comin' down in solid chunks fit to knock a man off the yard, and things was gettin' lively.

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"Lower away yer fore and mizzen topsail halyards. Lay aft to the main clewgarnets and buntlines. Ease away yer tack and sheet-Made a mistake there, eh? Too much of a hurry, eh?' Up goes the old Nucleus's stern, on a comber as gripes her under the weather quarter and tosses her up where the seffer as was bowlin' along gives 'er one for keeps, and the next minute that 'ere mainsail were slatted clean outen her bolt ropes. Swear? You bet. Knock the men endwise as let go of the tack and sheet? One on 'em, The.; only one on 'em, fer Spencer hisself was at the tack.

"Now aft agin and get both the mizzen topsails,' for no man could steer and she a gripin' so. 'Up you go and furl that

upper topsail. Now, down on deck and clew up the lower.' Jump or Spencer'll lay yer head open. 'Clewlins and buntlins, slack away to leeward. Now you've got 'er. Ease off to windward.' Boom! The old ship rose on another big comber, and away went the upper main topsail.

"Now git aloft and furl the mizzen before it blows away, too. No use, yer too late.' In spite of yer clewlins and yer buntlins, she begins to slat out and you'd better look for'ard a bit. For'ard we runs, chased by the mate like a flock o' sheep with a dog arter 'em, and lucky we did, for just then one of them combers as had been chasin' us catches up and walks over the quarter, sweepin' things clean. Good luck the man at the wheel had lashed hisself fast, and the captain were under the weather rail, else both 'ud gone overboard sure.

"How long will she stand that? Not long, me b'y. The gale's risin', and the seas gettin' up stiddy. Better lay 'er to. Aye. We'll lay 'er to. 'Man the jib down haul. That's well; now the forestaysail.' Lay out there and furl 'em? No. Too late for that. The man as goes out there washes off. 'Git the fore-lower topsail then, and be quick about it.' Aye. We do that. Now for the foresail, and then we'll put the helm down and see her come up. That's what we think. We man the strings again. We're savin' the ship, now. Ease off the tack first. Zip! zip! Boom! We didn't save no foresail, that's for sartin.

"Ha! she was boiling along in a smother of foam without any canvas a pulling, but the main-lower topsail, but t'want no fun, ef we were a headin' of our course. 'Git a tarpaulin in the weather mizzen riggin' and cut away that flappin' headgear.' No. The gale saves us part of that work, and makes more, for a big sea shoves the ship's nose under like a rootin' hog's, and when she wallers up out of it she leaves 'er jib-boom behind in the water and the foreto'-gallant mast goes over to stabbord. Now we go at it with axes to clear the stuff away, and then we're ready to bring her up to the wind.

It's an even chance that she won't make it, but if we hold on as we are we are lost for sartin'.

"Lay aft all. Haul in the lee braces and ease away to windward. That's well; belay. Now git yer tarpaulin into the mizzen-riggin'. Stand by, you at the wheel, and when you git the word jump on 'er, d'ye hear? Wait a minute till this big 'un clears us

"Now hard down! hard down! Jam 'er.'"

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'Aye, she's hard down, sir." "Great Lord, and still she hangs, and there's a tidal wave makin' to windward! Show the peak of that spanker. Haul her out! Haul, you

"Too late! Too late! The wave's atop of us, even as we git the word, and we be to scamper like rats to git under the rail or wherever we could get a line to take a turn around ourselves with and cling for life to it, and so the wave sweeps slow across the deck, and the screamin' o' that 'ere storm and the sight of it is lost in the roaring waters that presses us down and a' most crush the life out of us."

As he told the story of the gale the sailor became more and more flushed and excited until he came to tell how they vainly tried to get her head to the wind. Here he rose up in bed and bellowed the orders at the top of his voice, and struck out with his fists as if driving obdurate seamen before him. Then he fell back, saying, "too late," and half gasped for breath as he told of the crushing weight of water that bore down on the ill-starred ship.

This done, he stopped talking for a time, while the look of anxiety that had been on his face slowly gave way to one of peace. Closing his eyes for a time he opened them with a smile on his face and went on with his story.

"How long we was under that 'ere wave is more nor I knows, but it seemed like a trick at the wheel in the midwatch. We just hung on to our lashin's and held our breath till I was ready to give up that the ship had gone down. Then all onexpected the wave passed away, and the Nucleus was atop agin, but I was that beat out I dropped down on the deck.

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to jump to that 'ere outhaul again, I feels one o' them catspaws on my face what a sweetheart o' mine used to call gentle seffers. I opened my eyes suddint at that ere, and what d'ye think? The storm-wind, clouds, and the whole smother of it-had passed away with that 'ere tidal wave, and there we was a rollin' in as pretty a seaway as ever the trades kicked up. I never hear of a storm, as lasted like ourn had, goin' away that suddint, but there was no denyin' what I see with my own eyes arter I'd rubbed 'em wery hard to make sure on 'em. So I makes shift to git on my pins again, and has a severe look around to see whar them clouds had gone, and didn't see nothin' of 'em nowhere."

"Wonderful change of the weather, that," remarked the surgeon.

"True for it, sir; but strange things be to happen in them latitudes, and I don't pretend to understand 'em at all, nither, sir. Hows'ever, there was the ship with her top hamper in a ter❜ble mess-we be to understand that; there was the men, crawlin' from their lashin's and what not, as they'd been hangin' on to, and nary a one be to lose the number of his mess; there was the officers and the man at the wheel-all on us more nor less used up, in course, but all on us oncommon well pleased to find the Nucleus on top agin, and the storm gone.

"As I was a sayin', though, sailormen on ships as has had their sticks knocked outen them don't have no time to go a pherloserphizin' about things they don't know nothin' about, and you'd a lay yer last dollar on that 'ere ef you'd seen the mate start for'd the moment he'd got a bit over the daze what the weight o' the water 'ud give him.

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Here, git up, y' lazy dev-' says he; and then he clapped a stopper on to that 'ere, and didn't finish his remark, while a quare sort of a look come over his face. So he swallers wery hard like suthin' was into his throat, and heads away on a different tack, some'at.

"Now, then, me bullies,' he says, 'clap on to them fore and main staysail halliards and snake 'em up. Hard down with yer wheel thar, Jimmie, and we'll have her nose to sothard agin, eh?'”

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"Hold fast, Jack," said Kelly. "Give us the straight on it, see? D'ye mane to soy them was Spencer's wurruds?' "Aye, in course.'

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"Poor Jack," said The., mournfully, "and him sich a fine mon in his day. Would a sup of ould rye help 'im a bit, now, docther, do yez think?"

The doctor, impatient at the interruption, gestured dissent, and Jack, with a grin at The.'s mournfulness, continued:

"Done him good to git the life squeezed outen his gall, hey? That's what I thought then, anyhow. But that 'ere's nither here nor thar, for we be to clap on to them halliards, and so, the helm bein' down and the head of her to Sou'west, and the wind easted, we 're soon comin' to.

"How's her head?' says Spencer, when the sinkin' sun comes abeam.

"The binnacle's bust,' the man says, arter he has a look at the compass; and when the captain and the mates has a look at the binnacle and then at the telltales into the cabin they finds there's nary a compass on board but's bust, while even the two chronommyters was stopped out o' hand when the wave struck us. I don't remember to a ever hearin' of a ship gittin' quite that shorthanded in the matter o' navigatin' implements. Hows'ever, matters might a been worse, as the captain said, for any one can steer to sothard when he can see the sun and stars; and so arter a lookout were sent to straddle the r'yal yard if so be any other ship might be sighted as we could get a compass of, as well as the time at Greenwich, we fell to makin' sail and repairin' damages.

"I don't need to go spinnin' to you about that ere, only I make bold to say that when me an' the second mate got the new jib-boom ready for to be shipped at the end o' the mid-watch arter eight hours' work, there didn't never nobody see a dandier one nor it.' "But what about your meals all this time?" asked the Sifter of Rumors.

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never see a ship 'ud know what it were; but afore we ship it I'm a thinkin' we'll pipe to breakfast,' and we did. We hadn't had it a weighin' on our minds afore, but when we gits our messkids full we was sharp set and no better stores was ever sarved aboard ship."

"Must 'av served cabin grub to yous gintlemen," said Kelly with marked emphasis. He had snorted at Jack's use of the word "gentlemen.”

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"I don't dispute y', The.," said Jack in a helpless sort of a way. Things never was the same arter that 'ere wave swept over us. I hain't got no learnin', The., and can't give no whys nor whyfors."

"How far did you find you'd sailed and drifted during the storm?" asked the Sifter of Rumors.

"Ay, the latitude and longitude. 'Twar a lettle cur'us, now I think on it, though nobody didn't hold no conwention in the lee of the galley for to consider it then. When the old man found his chronommyters was bust he says, and he says it quite solemn: We be to sail by dead reckonin'.'

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We hove the log as soon as ever we got all plain sail onto her and she were a reelin' off eight knots, and from that 'ere time we never teched glass nor reel.

"Arter breakfast, see, which it were arly and afore seven bells, the old man said for to call the watch and the rest turn in, which we weren't expectin' nor axin' for, seein' we was feelin' all right and all that 'ere work to do, and so I makes bold to say as we was ready to turn to. But the captain he says stow that 'ere, for 'taint square for no man to do no more nor he signed articles for, and so we turns in. As for me, I no sooner

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