brooded awfully for days and weeks together over the
unchangeable inheritance of their children; till at last

the stones, hot like live embers, scorched the naked sole,
till the water clung warm, and sickly, and as if thick-

ened, about the legs of lean men with girded loins, wad-
ing thigh-deep in the pale blaze of the shallows. And

it would happen now and then that the Sofala, through
some delay in one of the ports of call, would heave in

sight making for Pangu bay as late as noonday.
Only a blurring cloud at first, the thin mist of her

smoke would arise mysteriously from an empty point on
the clear line of sea and sky. The taciturn fishermen

within the reefs would extend their lean arms towards
the offing; and the brown figures stooping on the tiny

beaches, the brown figures of men, women, and children
grubbing in the sand in search of turtles' eggs, would

rise up, crooked elbow aloft and hand over the eyes, to
watch this monthlyapparition glide straight on, swerve

off--and go by. Their ears caught the panting of that
ship; their eyes followed her till she passed between the

two capes of the mainland going at full speed as though
she hoped to make her way unchecked into the very

bosom of the earth.
On such days the luminous sea would give no sign of

the dangers lurking on both sides of her path. Every-
thing remained still, crushed by the overwhelming power

of the light; and the whole group, opaque in the sun-
shine,--the rocks resembling pinnacles, the rocks resem-

bling spires, the rocks resembling ruins; the forms of
islets resembling beehives, resembling mole-hills, the

islets recalling the shapes of haystacks, the contours of
ivy-clad towers,--would stand reflected together upside

down in the unwrinkled water, like carved toys of ebony
disposed on the silvered plate-glass of a mirror.

The first touch of blowing weather would envelop the
whole at once in the spume of the windward breakers,

as if in a sudden cloudlike burst of steam; and the clear
water seemed fairly to boil in all the passages. The

provoked sea outlined exactly in a design of angry foam
the wide base of the group; the submerged level of

broken waste and refuse left over from the building of
the coast near by, projecting its dangerous spurs, all

awash, far into the channel, and bristling with wicked
long spits often a mile long: with deadly spits made of

froth and stones.
And even nothing more than a brisk breeze--as on

that morning, the voyage before, when the Sofala left
Pangu bay early, and Mr. Sterne's discovery was to

blossom out like a flower of incredible and evil aspect
from the tiny seed of instinctive suspicion,--even such

a breeze had enough strength to tear the placid mask
from the face of the sea. To Sterne, gazing with indif-

ference, it had been like a revelation to behold for the
first time the dangers marked by the hissing livid

patches on the water as distinctly as on the engraved
paper of a chart. It came into his mind that this was

the sort of day most favorable for a stranger attempt-
ing the passage: a clear day, just windy enough for

the sea to break on every ledge, buoying, as it were,
the channelplainly to the sight; whereas during a calm

you had nothing to depend on but the compass and the
practiced judgment of your eye. And yet the suc-

cessive captains of the Sofala had had to take her
through at night more than once. Nowadays you could

not afford to throw away six or seven hours of a
steamer's time. That you couldn't. But then use is

everything, and with proper care . . . The channel
was broad and safe enough; the main point was to hit

upon the entrance correctly in the dark--for if a man
got himself involved in that stretch of broken water

over yonder he would never get out with a whole ship--
if he ever got out at all.

This was Sterne's last train of thought independent
of the great discovery. He had just seen to the secur-

ing of the anchor, and had remained forward idling
away a moment or two. The captain was in charge on

the bridge. With a slight yawn he had turned away
from his survey of the sea and had leaned his shoulders

against the fish davit.
These, properlyspeaking, were the very last moments

of ease he was to know on board the Sofala. All the
instants that came after were to be pregnant with pur-

pose and intolerable with perplexity. No more idle,
random thoughts; the discovery would put them on the

rack, till sometimes he wished to goodness he had been
fool enough not to make it at all. And yet, if his

chance to get on rested on the discovery of "something
wrong," he could not have hoped for a greater stroke

of luck.
X

The knowledge was too disturbing, really. There was
"something wrong" with a vengeance, and the moral

certitude of it was at first simply frightful to contem-
plate. Sterne had been looking aft in a mood so idle,

that for once he was thinking no harm of anyone. His
captain on the bridge presented himself naturally to

his sight. How insignificant, how casual was the
thought that had started the train of discovery--like an

accidental spark that suffices to ignite the charge of a
tremendous mine!

Caught under by the breeze, the awnings of the fore-
deck bellied upwards and collapsed slowly, and above

their heavy flapping the gray stuff of Captain Whalley's
roomy coat fluttered incessantly around his arms and

trunk. He faced the wind in full light, with his great
silvery beard blown forcibly against his chest; the eye-

brows overhung heavily the shadows whence his glance
appeared to be staring ahead piercingly. Sterne could

just detect the twin gleam of the whites shifting under
the shaggy arches of the brow. At short range these

eyes, for all the man's affable manner, seemed to look
you through and through. Sterne never could defend

himself from that feeling when he had occasion to speak
with his captain. He did not like it. What a big

heavy man he appeared up there, with that little
shrimp of a Serang in close attendance--as was usual

in this extraordinary steamer! Confounded absurd cus-
tom that. He resented it. Surely the old fellow could

have looked after his ship without that loafing native
at his elbow. Sterne wriggled his shoulders with dis-

gust. What was it? Indolence or what?
That old skipper must have been growing lazy for

years. They all grew lazy out East here (Sterne was
very conscious of his own unimpaired activity); they

got slack all over. But he towered very erect on the
bridge; and quite low by his side, as you see a small

child looking over the edge of a table, the battered soft
hat and the brown face of the Serang peeped over the