ur reckoning, I dare say,
through the distress we're in.'

"The captain and I exchanged looks.

"'Heading as you go,' the captain sang out, 'you're bound on a true
course for the Antarctic Circle, and, anyway, it's a long stretch for
Agulhas by way of Cape Horn out of these seas. How can we serve you?'"

'Will you send one of your officers in a boat?' came back the reply
very promptly, 'that he may put us in the way of steering a course for
the Cape of Good Hope? He'll then guess our plight, and if you'll lend
us a hand or two we shall be greatly obliged. We can't send a boat
ourselves--we're too few.'

"'He's no sailor-man, that fellow,' said the captain, 'and he ha'n't
got the colonial brogue, either. I seem to smell Whitechapel in that
chap's speech. Is he a passenger? Why don't he say so? Looks like a
play-actor, or a priest. But take a boat, Grainger, and row over and
see what you can make of the mess they're in. There's something rather
more than out-of-the-way in that job, if I'm not mistaken.'

"A boat was lowered; I entered it, and was rowed across to the brig by
three men. No attempt was made to throw us the end of a line, or in
any way to help us. The bowman got hold of a chain plate, and I
scrambled into the main-chains and so got over the rail, bidding the
men shove off and lie clear of the brig, whose rolling was somewhat
heavy, owing to her floating like an egg-shell upon the long Pacific
heave.

"I glanced along the vessel's decks forward, and saw not a soul. I
observed a little caboose, the chimney of which was smoking as though
coal had within the past few minutes been thrown into the furnace. I
saw but one boat; she stood chocked and lashed abaft the caboose--a
clumsy, broad-beamed long-boat, capable of stowing perhaps fifteen or
twenty men at a pinch. I also took notice of a pair of davits on the
starboard side, past the main rigging; they were empty.

"I stepped up to the heavily-built man who had answered the captain's
questions. He received me with a grotesque bow, pinching the brim of
his wide straw hat as he bobbed his head. I did not like his looks. He
had as hanging a face as ever a malefactor carried. His features were
heavy and coarse, his brow low and protruding, his eyes small, black,
and restless, and his mouth of the bulldog cast.

"'We're much obliged to you for this visit,' he said. 'Might I ask
your name, sir?'

"'My name is Grainger--Mr. James Grainger,' I answered, scarce