of history have rarely achieved such a
percentage of mortality. Fourteen of us have gone overside, and who can
tell the end?

Nevertheless, here we are, masters of matter, adventurers in the micro-
organic, planet-weighers, sun-analysers, star-rovers, god-dreamers,
equipped with the human wisdom of all the ages, and yet, quoting Mr.
Pike, to come down to brass tacks, we are a lot of primitive beasts,
fighting bestially, slaying bestially, pursuing bestially food and water,
air for our lungs, a dry space above the deep, and carcasses skin-covered
and intact. And over this menagerie of beasts Margaret and I, with our
Asiatics under us, rule top-dog. We are all dogs--there is no getting
away from it. And we, the fair-pigmented ones, by the seed of our
ancestry rulers in the high place, shall remain top-dog over the rest of
the dogs. Oh, there is material in plenty for the cogitation of any
philosopher on a windjammer in mutiny in this Year of our Lord 1913.

* * * * *

Henry was the fourteenth of us to go overside into the dark and salty
disintegration of the sea. And in one day he has been well avenged; for
two of the mutineers have followed him. The steward called my attention
to what was taking place. He touched my arm half beyond his servant's
self, as he gloated for'ard at the men heaving two corpses overside.
Weighted with coal, they sank immediately, so that we could not identify
them.

"They have been fighting," I said. "It is good that they should fight
among themselves."

But the old Chinese merely grinned and shook his head.

"You don't think they have been fighting?" I queried.

"No fight. They eat'm mollyhawk and albatross; mollyhawk and albatross
eat'm fat pork; two men he die, plenty men much sick, you bet, damn to
hell me very much glad. I savve."

And I think he was right. While I was busy baiting the sea-birds the
mutineers were catching them, and of a surety they must have caught some
that had eaten of my various poisons.

The two poisoned ones went over the side yesterday. Since then we have
taken the census. Two men only have not appeared, and they are Bob, the
fat and overgrown feebling youth, and, of all creatures, the Faun. It
seems my fate that I had to destroy the Faun--the poor, tortured Faun,
always willing and eager, ever desirous to please. There is a madness of
ill luck in all this. Why couldn't the two dead men have been Charles
Davis and Tony the Greek? Or Bert