ger, we're likely to get in to port before long, if we only
have a breeze of wind," said Harvey Barth, the cook and steward of the
brig Waldo, in a peculiar, drawling tone, by which any one who knew the
speaker might have recognized him without the use of his eyes.

The steward was a tall, lank, lantern-jawed man, whose cheek-bones were
almost as prominent as his long nose. His face was pale, in spite of the
bronze which a West India sun had imparted to it, and his hair was long
and straight. He had a very thin beard of jet black, which contrasted
strongly with the pallor of his face. His voice was hollow, and sounded
doubly so from the drawl with which he uttered his sentences, and every
remark he made was preceded by a single long-drawn hacking cough, which
might have been caused by the force of habit or the incipient workings
of disease. He was seated in the galley, abaft the foremast of the brig,
and when the passenger showed himself at the door of the galley, he had
been engaged in writing in a square record-book, which he closed the
instant the visitor darkened the aperture of his den.

The passenger--the only one on board of the Waldo--was a short,
thick-set man of about forty, whose name was entered on the brig's
papers as Jacob Wallbridge, and his trunk bore the initials
corresponding to this name. In his hand he had a pipe, filled full of
tobacco, and it was evident that he had called at the galley only to
light it, though the steward proceeded to infold his book in an ample
piece of oil-cloth which lay upon the seat at his side. It was clear
that he did not wish the passenger to know what he was doing, or, at
least, what he had written, for he was really quite nervous, as he
securely tied the book, and then locked it up in a box under the seat.
Though Harvey Barth did not confess it then, it was, nevertheless, a
fact that he had been writing in his book about the passenger who
darkened his door, though what he wrote was not seen by any human eye
until many months after the pen had done its office.

"I thought this morning we should get in to-night," replied the
passenger, as he stepped inside of the caboose. "May I borrow a coal of
fire from the stove, doctor?"

"Certain, if you can get one; but the fire is about out. You will find
some matches in the tin box on your right," added the steward.

"I like to light my pipe in the old-fashioned way when I can. I don't
mean to begin to suck in brimstone just ye