tract on intemperance. Well, he had been sober for a week
now--hadn't any money to get drunk with. If he had he certainly would
get drunk, as quickly as he possibly could. Might as well get drunk as
try to get a ship now. Why, every wharf-loafer knew him.

A hot feeling came to his cheeks and stayed there as he walked through
the streets, for he seemed to hear every one laugh and mutter at him as
he passed, "That's the boozy mate of the _Bandolier_. Ran her ashore in
the Islands when he was drunk and drowned most of the hands."

*****

Proctor was twenty-five when he began to drink. He had just been made
master, and his good luck in making such quick passages set him off. Not
that he then drank at sea; it was only when he came on shore and met
so many of the passengers he had carried between Sydney and New Zealand
that he went in for it. Then came a warning from the manager of the
steamship company. That made him a bit careful--and vexed. And ill-luck
made him meet a brother captain that night, and of course they had "a
time" together, and Proctor was driven down in a cab to the ship and
helped up the gangway by a wharfinger and a deck hand. The next morning
he was asked to resign, and from that day his career was damned. From
the command of a crack steamship to that of a tramp collier was a big
come-down; but Proctor was glad to get the collier after a month's
idleness. For nearly a year all went well. He had had a lesson, and did
not drink now, not even on shore. A woman who had stood to him in his
first disgrace had promised to marry him when the year was out, and that
kept him straight. Then one day he received a cold intimation from his
owners that he "had better look out for another ship," his services
were no longer wanted. "Why?" he asked. Well, they said, they would
be candid, they had heard he was a drinking man, and they would run no
risks. Six months of shamefaced and enforced idleness followed; and then
Proctor was partly promised a barque. Another man named Rothesay was
working hard to get her, but Proctor beat him by a hair's breadth. He
made two or three trips to California and back, and then, almost on the
eve of his marriage, met Rothesay, who was now in command of a small
island-trading steamer. Proctor liked Rothesay, and thought him a good
fellow; Rothesay hated Proctor most fervently, hated him because he was
in command of the ship he wanted himself, and hated him because he was
to marry Nell Le