him to the notice of a gentle-souled Portuguese of
the crew, a true believer, who made friends with the Scot and earned his
confidence before he learned of the shamness of the phylactery. Scotty,
on lookout one night, told him this in a burst of confidence that also
included a confession of his peculation. His friend, horrified, not at
the theft, but at the sacrilegious fraud, informed him that the coin was
accursed, that his soul was accursed, and that the only salvation for
him in this life and the next was, first, that he return the stolen
dollar by hand to its rightful owner, next that he become a real
believer in the only true church instead of an impostor.

"If you do not," he said, "you have alla time badda luck till you die,
then purgatory and the flame."

Perhaps the flames of Sheol could not have turned Scotty from his faith;
but he was certainly impressed with the first clause of the obligation.

"Ye maun be right, Manuel," he said; "for, though I thought it a
deespensation, I find that all my hard luck came after it. I'll gie it
back when I may."

"Who's on lookout here?" demanded the burly third mate as he climbed the
forecastle steps. "Hey, who's on lookout?"

"I am, sir," answered Scotty, as Manuel drew out of the way.

"Get down on the main-deck, you dago son of a thief," bellowed the
officer, aiming a kick at the retreating Portuguese. "D' ye see that
light?" he said to Scotty. "With a man to help you keep lookout, d' ye
see it?"

Scotty, derelict in his duty, did not see it for some moments--in fact,
not until the third mate was through with him. Then he looked through
closing eyes to where the third mate pointed--dead ahead, where a white
light shone faintly in the darkness.

"Ay, ay, sir," he said, thickly. "I see it; and I'll e'en remember this
night when I meet ye on shore, Mr. Smart. I'm no shipped in the craft,
and it's a matter for the underwriters to know--puttin' me on lookout.
As it is, I doot I'd meet trouble should I pull yer head off the noo.
I'm no a shipped man, d' ye hear?"

The last was like the roar of an angry bull, and the officer backed away
from the enraged Scotchman. Then he descended the steps, and in a minute
a man came up and relieved him.

The light did not move, and, the wind being gentle, the day broke before
the ship had come up to it. Then they saw a black tramp steamer, rolling
easily in the trough, with a string of small flags flying from aloft and
the Engli