So they are burying poor 'Shape' without benefit of clergy," says the
note-book.

General consternation now began to prevail. Then it was learned that the
ship's doctor had run out of medicines. The passengers became
demoralized. They believed their vessel was to become a charnel ship.
Strict sanitary orders were issued, and a hospital was improvised.

Verily the ship is becoming a floating hospital herself--not an hour
passes but brings its fresh sensation, its new disaster, its
melancholy tidings. When I think of poor "Shape" and the preacher,
both so well when I saw them yesterday evening, I realize that I
myself may be dead to-morrow.

Since the last two hours all laughter, all levity, has ceased on the
ship--a settled gloom is upon the faces of the passengers.

By noon it was evident that the minister could not survive. He died at
two o'clock next morning; the fifth victim in less than five days. The
machinery continued to break and the vessel to drag. The ship's doctor
confessed to Clemens that he was helpless. There were eight patients in
the hospital.

But on January 6th they managed to make Key West, and for some reason
were not quarantined. Twenty-one passengers immediately deserted the
ship and were heard of no more.

"I am glad they are gone. D--n them," says the notebook. Apparently he
had never considered leaving, and a number of others remained. The
doctor restocked his medicine-locker, and the next day they put to sea
again. Certainly they were a daring lot of voyagers. On the 8th another
of the patients died. Then the cooler weather seemed to check the
contagion, and it was not until the night of the 11th, when the New York
harbor lights were in view, that the final death occurred. There were no
new cases by this time, and the other patients were convalescent. A
certificate was made out that the last man had died of "dropsy." There
would seem to have been no serious difficulty in docking the vessel and
landing the passengers. The matter would probably be handled differently
to-day.

LVII

OLD FRIENDS AND NEW PLANS

It had been more than thirteen years since his first arrival in New York.
Then he had been a youth, green, untraveled, eager to get away from home.
Now a veteran, he was as eager to return.

He stopped only long enough in New York to see Charles Henry Webb, late
of California, who had put together a number of the Mark Twain sketches,
including "T