are a few thousand miles of sea to be
sailed over before we come to the story of that night.

[B] Like the Wandering Jew on land, there is a ship at sea sailing
on and on until doomsday, manned by a crew of very old
Dutchmen, who are expiating some sin.

We had a very pleasant voyage. Sailing north towards the equator, the
weather was gradually getting warmer. In about four weeks' time we
sighted the Island of San Lorenzo, an immense, high rock which formed
the western side of Callao Harbour. The ship's sails were taken in and
furled, all but the top-sails. At last we came to anchor. Where our ship
lay in the bay was directly over the old city. A number of years ago,
during one night, an earthquake submerged Callao and raised up San
Lorenzo from beneath the waters. Five miles inland is the city of Lima,
the capital of Peru and the burial-place of Pizarro, the conqueror of
that country. The only railroad on that coast at that time was the
five-mile track connecting the two cities. Jimmy and I rowed the captain
ashore in the ship's boat. Sitting on the steps when we arrived there
was my old friend Amos. We were much surprised to meet again. He told me
all about himself since leaving the saw-mill in Chile so abruptly. He
invited me to visit him at the hospital, although there was nothing in
his appearance to indicate that he was an invalid.

Lighters came to the ship, and the unloading of our cargo commenced.
Jimmy and I were promoted to be cook and steward of the vessel, I being
the latter. One Sunday we had an afternoon holiday on shore. The captain
let us have only one dollar each out of the wages due to us. The first
place we visited was the hospital, in quest of Amos. It was a terribly
hot day. On a large grassy plain fronting the building were a number of
healthy-looking men playing a very lively game of ball. You can imagine
our surprise when Amos informed us that they were the patients belonging
to the hospital. The explanation was simple enough. Every man aboard of
an American ship has to pay twenty-five cents a month to support the
marine hospitals. A ship cannot get clearance papers until it is paid.
That entitles the sailors to admission to any marine hospital in the
United States when they are taken sick. If in a foreign port, the
American consul is obliged to pay for their keeping at whatever hospital
may be found in that place. The consul for Callao was a kind-hearted old
man by the na