bearded man of twenty-odd, lost hold, slipped, swung around the

mast, and was pinched against the boss of rock. Pinched? The life
squeezed from him on the instant. Two others followed the way of

the cook. Captain Johannes Maartens was the last, completing the
fourteen of us that clung on in the cleft. An hour afterward the

Sparwehr slipped off and sank in deep water.
Two days and nights saw us near to perishing on that cliff, for

there was way neither up nor down. The third morning a fishing-boat
found us. The men were clad entirely in dirt white, with their long

hair done up in a curious knot on their pates--the marriage knot, as
I was afterward to learn, and also, as I was to learn, a handy thing

to clutch hold of with one hand whilst you clouted with the other
when an argument went beyond words.

The boat went back to the village for help, and most of the
villagers, most of their gear, and most of the day were required to

get us down. They were a poor and wretched folk, their food
difficult even for the stomach of a sea-cuny to countenance. Their

rice was brown as chocolate. Half the husks remained in it, along
with bits of chaff, splinters, and unidentifiable dirt which made

one pause often in the chewing in order to stick into his mouth
thumb and forefinger and pluck out the offending stuff. Also, they

ate a sort of millet, and pickles of astounding variety and ungodly
hot.

Their houses were earthen-walled and straw-thatched. Under the
floors ran flues through which the kitchen smoke escaped, warming

the sleeping-room in its passage. Here we lay and rested for days,
soothing ourselves with their mild and tasteless tobacco, which we

smoked in tiny bowls at the end of yard-long pipes. Also, there was
a warm, sourish, milky-looking drink, heady only when taken in

enormous doses. After guzzling I swear gallons of it, I got singing
drunk, which is the way of sea-cunies the world over. Encouraged by

my success, the others persisted, and soon we were all a-roaring,
little reeking of the fresh snow gale piping up outside, and little

worrying that we were cast away in an uncharted, God-forgotten land.
Old Johannes Maartens laughed and trumpeted and slapped his thighs

with the best of us. Hendrik Hamel, a cold-blooded, chilly-poised
dark brunette of a Dutchman with beady black eyes, was as rarely

devilish as the rest of us, and shelled out silver like any drunken
sailor for the purchase of more of the milky brew. Our carrying-on

was a scandal; but the women fetched the drink while all the village
that could crowd in jammed the room to witness our antics.

The white man has gone around the world in mastery, I do believe,
because of his unwise uncaringness. That has been the manner of his

going, although, of course, he was driven on by restiveness and lust
for booty. So it was that Captain Johannes Maartens, Hendrik Hamel,

and the twelve sea-cunies of us roystered and bawled in the fisher
village while the winter gales whistled across the Yellow Sea.

From the little we had seen of the land and the people we were not
impressed by Cho-Sen. If these miserable fishers were a fair sample

of the natives, we could understand why the land was unvisited of
navigators. But we were to learn different. The village was on an

in-lying island, and its headmen must have sent word across to the
mainland; for one morning three big two-masted junks with lateens of

rice-matting dropped anchor off the beach.
When the sampans came ashore Captain Johannes Maartens was all

interest, for here were silks again. One strapping Korean, all in
pale-tinted silks of various colours, was surrounded by half a dozen

obsequious attendants, also clad in silk. Kwan Yung-jin, as I came
to know his name, was a YANG-BAN, or noble; also he was what might

be called magistrate or governor of the district or province. This
means that his office was appointive, and that he was a tithe-

squeezer or tax-farmer.
Fully a hundred soldiers were also landed and marched into the

village. They were armed with three-pronged spears, slicing spears,
and chopping spears, with here and there a matchlock of so heroic

mould that there were two soldiers to a matchlock, one to carry and
set the tripod on which rested the muzzle, the other to carry and

fire the gun. As I was to learn, sometimes the gun went off,
sometimes it did not, all depending upon the adjustment of the fire-

punk and the condition of the powder in the flash-pan.
So it was that Kwan-Yung-jin travelled. The headmen of the village

were cringingly afraid of him, and for good reason, as we were not
overlong in finding out. I stepped forward as interpreter, for

already I had the hang of several score of Korean words. He scowled
and waved me aside. But what did I reek? I was as tall as he,

outweighed him by a full two stone, and my skin was white, my hair
golden. He turned his back and addressed the head man of the

village while his six silken satellites made a cordon between us.
While he talked more soldiers from the ship carried up several

shoulder-loads of inch-planking. These planks were about six feet
long and two feet wide, and curiously split in half lengthwise.

Nearer one end than the other was a round hole larger than a man's
neck.

Kwan Yung-jin gave a command. Several of the soldiers approached
Tromp, who was sitting on the ground nursing a felon. Now Tromp was

a rather stupid, slow-thinking, slow-moving cuny, and before he knew
what was doing one of the planks, with a scissors-like opening and

closing, was about his neck and clamped. Discovering his
predicament, he set up a bull-roaring and dancing, till all had to

back away to give him clear space for the flying ends of his plank.
Then the trouble began, for it was plainly Kwan Yung-jin's intention

to plank all of us. Oh, we fought, bare-fisted, with a hundred
soldiers and as many villagers, while Kwan Yung-jin stood apart in

his silks and lordlydisdain. Here was where I earned my name Yi
Yong-ik, the Mighty. Long after our company was subdued and planked

I fought on. My fists were of the hardness of topping-mauls, and I
had the muscles and will to drive them.

To my joy, I quickly learned that the Koreans did not understand a
fist-blow and were without the slightest notion of guarding. They

went down like tenpins, fell over each other in heaps. But Kwan
Yung-jin was my man, and all that saved him when I made my rush was

the intervention of his satellites. They were flabby creatures. I
made a mess of them and a muss and muck of their silks ere the

multitude could return upon me. There were so many of them. They
clogged my blows by the sneer numbers of them, those behind shoving

the front ones upon me. And how I dropped them! Toward the end
they were squirming three-deep under my feet. But by the time the

crews of the three junks and most of the village were on top of me I
was fairly smothered. The planking was easy.

"God in heaven, what now!" asked Vandervoot, another cuny, when we
had been bundled aboard a junk.

We sat on the open deck, like so many trussed fowls, when he asked
the question, and the next moment, as the junk heeled to the breeze,

we shot down the deck, planks and all, fetching up in the lee-
scuppers with skinned necks. And from the high poop Kwan Yung-jin

gazed down at us as if he did not see us. For many years to come
Vandervoot was known amongst us as "What-Now Vandervoot." Poor

devil! He froze to death one night on the streets of Keijo; with
every door barred against him.

To the mainland we were taken and thrown into a stinking, vermin-
infested prison. Such was our introduction to the officialdom of

Cho-Sen. But I was to be revenged for all of us on Kwan Yung-jin,
as you shall see, in the days when the Lady Om was kind and power

was mine.
In prison we lay for many days. We learned afterward the reason.