His big, beardless face was red, like rusty iron, with
over thirty years of seafaring; it was simple and strong, a
transparent mask of the man's upright and steadfast spirit.

"Eh?" he said, and the other repeated his question. Dan sucked at his
pipe and breathed the smoke forth in a thin blue mist.

"It might be true enough," he answered at length, in his deliberate
bass. "Things like that does happen; you c'n read 'em in newspapers.
Anyhow, true or not, the Dago believes it all."

"Meanin' he's mad?" inquired the other. "Blowed if I didn't think it
once or twice myself."

"He's mad right enough," agreed another seaman comfortably, while
from Bill's bunk came the usual snarl of "bloomin' fool."

Dan turned over on his side and put his pipe away.

"He don't do any harm, anyhow," he said, pulling up his blanket.
"There's worse than him."

"Plenty, poor devil," agreed the first speaker, as he too prepared
for the afternoon's sleep.

On his knees upon the deck aft, shoving his holystone to and fro
laboriously and unhandily along the planks where the accident with
the tar-pot had left its stain, the Dago still broke into little
meaningless smiles. For him, at any rate, the narrow scope between
the stem and stern of the Anna Maria was not the world. He had but to
lift up the eyes of his mind to behold, beyond it and dwarfing it to
triviality, the glamours of a life in which it had no part. Those who
saw him at his dreary penance had their excuse for thinking him mad,
for there were moments when his face glowed like a lover's, his lips
moved in soundless speech, and he had the aspect of a man illuminated
by some sudden and tender joy.

"Now, then, you Dago there," the officer of the watch shouted at him.
"Keep that stone movin', an' none of yer shenanikin'!"

"Yais, sir," answered the Dago, and bowed himself obediently.

It needed the ingenuity of Bill to trouble his tranquility of mind.
The old Anna Maria was far on her passage, and already there were
birds about her, the far-flying scouts of the land, and the color of
the water had changed to a softer and more radiant blue. It was as
though sad Africa made herself comely to invite them to her shores.
Bill had a piece of gear to serve with spun-yarn, and was at work
abreast of the foremast, with the Dago to help him. The rope on which
they worked was stretched between the rail and the mast. Bill had the
serving-mallet, and as he worked it round the rope the Dag