d calm toward morning, and the Elsinore, her
several spread sails booming and slatting, rolled more miserably than
ever. Mr. Mellaire pointed for'ard of our starboard beam. I could make
out a bleak land of white and jagged peaks.

"Staten Island, the easterly end of it," said Mr. Mellaire.

And I knew that we were in the position of a vessel just rounding Staten
Island preliminary to bucking the Horn. And, yet, four days ago, we had
run through the Straits of Le Maire and stolen along toward the Horn.
Three days ago we had been well abreast of the Horn and even a few miles
past. And here we were now, starting all over again and far in the rear
of where we had originally started.

* * * * *

The condition of the men is truly wretched. During the gale the
forecastle was washed out twice. This means that everything in it was
afloat and that every article of clothing, including mattresses and
blankets, is wet and will remain wet in this bitter weather until we are
around the Horn and well up in the good-weather latitudes. The same is
true of the 'midship-house. Every room in it, with the exception of the
cook's and the sail-makers' (which open for'ard on Number Two hatch), is
soaking. And they have no fires in their rooms with which to dry things
out.

I peeped into Charles Davis's room. It was terrible. He grinned to me
and nodded his head.

"It's just as well O'Sullivan wasn't here, sir," he said. "He'd
a-drowned in the lower bunk. And I want to tell you I was doing some
swimmin' before I could get into the top one. And salt water's bad for
my sores. I oughtn't to be in a hole like this in Cape Horn weather.
Look at the ice, there, on the floor. It's below freezin' right now in
this room, and my blankets are wet, and I'm a sick man, as any man can
tell that's got a nose."

"If you'd been decent to the mate you might have got decent treatment in
return," I said.

"Huh!" he sneered. "You needn't think you can lose me, sir. I can grow
fat on this sort of stuff. Why, sir, when I think of the court doin's in
Seattle I just couldn't die. An' if you'll listen to me, sir, you'll
cover the steward's money. You can't lose. I'm advisin' you, sir,
because you're a sort of decent sort. Anybody that bets on my going over
the side is a sure loser."

"How could you dare ship on a voyage like this in your condition?" I
demanded.

"Condition?" he queried with a fine assumption of innocence. "Why, that