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"AUTUMN SHOOTING."

BY G. H. GANDY.

LOUNGING against the mantelpiece and successfully masking the fire from the other occupants of the room, Franks, our club sportsman, was boring the assembled company with long-drawn-out descriptions of his guns and of his many exploits against the pheasant and the partridge. The Colonel had innocently brought forth the torrent by some casual reference from 'The Field' that he was reading.

Our small West Country Yacht Club on a winter's night, with its half-dozen well-known faces, its cheerful fire, warm panelling and deep arm-chairs, is a pleasant place to settle down to read and chat in after dinner. But Franks' voice is penetrating, and though ostensibly the Colonel was the only recipient of his remarks, the other members were getting slightly restive.

I tried to start a counterstream of yachting "shop," and turned to Brownlow, our vice commodore, with some idiotic question as to fitting jack-yard topsails next season to his schooner. Refusing to be drawn, he smiled and shook his head. "One lot of 'shop' at a time is quite enough, I think. Besides, my guest

I.

knows more than I do about such matters."

I looked towards his guest, whose name I had not caught. He was wearing evening clothes, which fitted faultlessly, yet there was something about the man which gave the lie to real conventionality. One looked at his dark curling hair, his powerful frame and striking features, and thought involuntarily of the rovers of the Spanish Main and Captain Margaret and gold earrings. Brownlow gets hold of queer fish sometimes.

At length Franks' reminiscences ended with the wellknown reference to his deerstalking on Lord Argles' forest ten years ago.

In the silence that ensued I turned again to Brownlow. "Let's have 'Let's have a yarn about your misspent youth at sea, old man; there's no one reading now."

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sailor's yarn," and Brownlow Moore," or some such piece, pressed the bell.

When all was settled comfortably, and not before, the stranger spoke. His voice was pleasant and cultivated, and hardly promised the rude old sailor's story that some of us expected.

"Well, gentlemen, my life has been mostly on the sea, so I know next to nothing of the shooting you have been discussing. Gulls and gannets are more in my line than partridges and pheasants; yet one phrase I heard just nowautumn shooting-brought to my mind vividly a little incident at sea out in the Western Ocean."

Franks' sporting eyebrows were raised in evident surprise at such a strange connection, but he said nothing, and Marshall continued.

"This shooting I remember was with a revolver, not a shot-gun, but it took place in the season though-in a heavy autumn gale, and was quite sporting while it lasted. That shooting saved a ship and some few lives as well." Marshall paused here, drained his glass, and set it down with energy to emphasise this point; then leaning back, he closed his eyes, frowning in concentration.

We sensed a story-teller above the average, and waited silently. I noticed an expression of fatuous pride on Brownlow's face, like that of a mother whose young son is about to recite "The Burial of Sir John

for the benefit of an admiring crowd of female relatives.

Then Marshall started.

"Old Captain Wilkes had the reputation of a skinflint, on the whole not undeserved. His mate and nephew, Jack Handley, was quite the opposite-in fact was given to a rather too reckless generosity ashore after long voyages.

"Partly because of Jack's impecuniosity after any lengthy stay in port, and partly owing to a concealed but genuine affection for the old man, he always sailed as sailed as mate with Wilkes in his old barquentine Minerva, despising others his contemporaries who went into steam and brass-bound uniforms, to a more ordered and less happy-go-lucky existence.

"Properly to present these three to you-Wilkes, Jack Handley, and the Minerva,I must digress a little and touch lightly on their past history. Captain Wilkes at this time was not yet sixty, but looked older.

"Twenty years before, he had taken his first voyage in command of the Minerva, and had cracked on eagerly homeward bound from Sydney Heads to London, to be met on arrival with the stunning news that his young wife was dead-had died two months before his home-coming.

"And I didn't know, I didn't know,' was what he kept repeating when, seated aft in the Captain's cabin, his father broke the news to him. 'I

didn't know,' as if he felt some transhipping cargo to a steamer swift monition should surely have been due to him across those thousand miles of ocean.

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Outwardly his loss was taken calmly, but inwardly it changed his character and his career. He stayed on in the Minerva voyage after voyage, made the ship his home, and, as his savings grew, his sixtyfourth share in that good barquentine increased as well.

"And when the owners had no further use for her, Captain Wilkes it was who saved her from the indignity of being a hulk. As master and managing owner, he worked her then across the seas with little profit, but much secret satisfaction to his soul. The ship, in rivalry to large and well-found steamers, did poorly, and would have done worse still but for Wilkes' acquaintanceship and reputation with many firms of brokers, who did their best for him and for the stout Minerva. The ship just paid her mortgage and kept Wilkes frugally; but he was quite content, and asked for nothing better than this rather lonely and hardworking life.

"Then the war came, and freights soared; anything that floated could get work and money for the asking then. By wisely limiting his voyages to south of 40° N., Wilkes kept away from submarines, and brought the old Minerva through intact, paid her mortgage off, and banked a solid

sum.

"Now, during the war, when

at the Azores, Wilkes met Jack Handley, then second mate on board the s.s. Sardis. His sister's son had grown up since Wilkes had seen him last as a curly-haired young nipper, who had climbed upon his uncle's knee and naïvely asked to go to Sourabaya. Wilkes found him in the Sardis romantic just the same, and sick of the regulation and the busy monotony of steamboat life; pining for the hard but more free and careless life in sail, of which he had had a taste in his apprentice days.

"And as Wilkes' mate was of the opposite opinion, and pining for the scents and sounds of London-the Three Nuns and the Strand were calling him,-an exchange was easily arranged.

"Thereafter Jack Handley stuck to the old man. On the whole, they got on well together, but Captain Wilkes, through years of parsimony, had become a sorry skinflint, so Jack Handley thought. With freights so high he could not see the reason for such great economy in the supply of paint and rope, and why on earth in port could they not have some eggs and bacon occasionally for breakfast in the cabin, instead of the eternal curry and rice or tripe from tins.

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wire for, boy? there's plenty in the ship if you'd but look.' "I know there's not a scrap, Captain.'

"There is, I tell you. What's all this wire around them bales of fodder we're discharging? There's pounds and pounds of that a-lying round the deck and going to waste this moment. You young chaps have no idea of improvising-must always have new stuff.'

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This was too much for young Jack, who thought he did too much improvising, caulking and carpentering and cobbling up old canvas. This last indignity of being forced to substitute for seizing-wire the rusty iron binding-wire of bales made him flare up and forget the courtesy that's due from youth to age, or the duty due from mate to Captain.

"I'll not do it,' said he; ' and what's more, if you think to run this ship as if she's on the parish, I'll not sail with you. I'm through. I'll not stand by the ship, and won't sign on again.'

"Captain Wilkes took him at his word and paid him off. Jack went ashore, and had a glorious fortnight's holiday; stayed in the best hotel, went to the theatre every night, hired motor-cars, and made a host of gay acquaintances.

"But all the time old Wilkes had kept an eye on him, and knew what lodgings Jack removed to when he had to leave his first expensive quarters. Jack made no attempt to find another ship. He'd wait till

the Minerva sailed, then look around. He wasn't going back to the Minerva, though-not he, as long as she was run no better than a workhouse. He wasn't going back to beg old Wilkes' pardon, and the old man would have to get some poor-spirited pauper to go as mate next time with him.

"The Minerva, usually prompt to fix and get away upon her business, stayed long in port that time, and it was a full six weeks before she was lying loaded ready for sea. Jack Handley knew all about her, where she was bound, and that she had got no mate as yet. His funds were getting low, but would he make a sign? Not he.

"The Saturday that the Minerva was due to sail, Jack was making rather a dismal breakfast in his lodgings when he heard a ring at the frontdoor bell. 'Uncle Wilkes, perhaps,' he thought, and hesitated as to what his attitude should be. But it was nothing more than a boy below with a parcel. Nevertheless, the parcel was addressed to Mr Jack Handley, s.v. Minerva, and was very heavy. Wonderingly he opened it, and found a coil of fourteen pounds of seizing-wire !

"That decided him; and cramming on his hat, he went off to the office, where he knew he would find old Wilkes. There he was, to be sure, behind the desk with a clerk preparatory to opening Articles. Jack went up and thumped the parcel

down in front of the old man, much to the annoyance of the clerk.

"Your property, I think, sir,' he said gruffly, as he put it down.

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"No, no; yours, my boy. But you must first sign for it,' and Wilkes pushed the Articles towards his nephew.

"So Jack signed the Articles of Agreement, wherein the crew agree to conduct themselves in an orderly, faithful, honest, and sober manner, to be diligent in their duties, and obedient to the lawful commands of the master, and many other things of the like import.

"That was the most serious row between them. There were others, of course; but as time went on, and they got used to one another, a genuine though unexpressed affection grew up between the two so differing in age and character, yet united by one common tie. Rovers of the ocean both, and lovers of the old Minerva.

"High freights won't last for ever, as Captain Wilkes' experience had taught him, and when the post-war slump set in his parsimony was somewhat justified. Wilkes could have sold the old Minerva and bought a steamer, but, as he said, 'He had lived his life in her, and she was sound, though getting on like he was, and at his age he could not change, certainly not to steam.' was in a difficulty. The ship could not go on running at a loss, of course, but Wilkes shrank from the alternative of

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laying her up, swallowing the anchor, and settling down to end his days on shore.

"An enterprising canvasser for some one's oil-engines solved the difficulty. All the advantages and economies of sail in addition to the advantages of power if you install an oilengine.

These engines have

come to save the sailing-ships and make them profitable once more,' he said. He knew his

man.

Old Wilkes clutched eagerly at this chance to save the old Minerva, and the agent went away with added confidence in his persuasive powers after getting such an order from old Skinflint Wilkes.

"When Captain Wilkes told his mate about the installation, he was surprised that that young man was not so enthusiastic as he expected; he even seemed to grudge the outlay of so large a sum of money, truly a strange sentiment to come from Jack.

"I'm not paying for the engine, and you know your business best, uncle,' he said; 'but, frankly, I'm not too keen on the idea. We don't want engineers for our job. I've been in steam on deck, you see, and my opinion is that engineers are just the very devil!'

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