assailed me. The draughty, rowdy city of San Francisco, the bustling
office where my friend Jim paced like a caged lion daily between ten and
four, even (at times) the retrospect of Paris, faded in comparison. Many
a man less tempted would have thrown up all to realise his visions; but
I was by nature unadventurous and uninitiative; to divert me from all
former paths and send me cruising through the isles of paradise, some
force external to myself must be exerted; Destiny herself must use the
fitting wedge; and, little as I deemed it, that tool was already in her
hand of brass.

I sat, one afternoon, in the corner of a great, glassy, silvered saloon,
a free lunch at my one elbow, at the other a "conscientious nude" from
the brush of local talent; when, with the tramp of feet and a sudden
buzz of voices, the swing-doors were flung broadly open, and the place
carried as by storm. The crowd which thus entered (mostly seafaring men,
and all prodigiously excited) contained a sort of kernel or general
centre of interest, which the rest merely surrounded and advertised, as
children in the Old World surround and escort the Punch-and-Judy man;
the word went round the bar like wildfire that these were Captain Trent
and the survivors of the British brig _Flying Scud_, picked up by a
British war-ship on Midway Island, arrived that morning in San Francisco
Bay, and now fresh from making the necessary declarations. Presently I
had a good sight of them; four brown, seamanlike fellows, standing by
the counter, glass in hand, the centre of a score of questioners. One
was a Kanaka--the cook, I was informed; one carried a cage with a
canary, which occasionally trilled into thin song; one had his left arm
in a sling, and looked gentlemanlike and somewhat sickly, as though the
injury had been severe and he was scarce recovered; and the captain
himself--a red-faced, blue-eyed, thick-set man of five-and-forty--wore a
bandage on his right hand. The incident struck me; I was struck
particularly to see captain, cook, and foremast hands walking the street
and visiting saloons in company; and, as when anything impressed me, I
got my sketch-book out, and began to steal a sketch of the four
castaways. The crowd, sympathising with my design, made a clear lane
across the room; and I was thus enabled, all unobserved myself, to
observe with a still growing closeness the face and the demeanour of
Captain Trent.

Warmed by whisky and encouraged by the ea