st. Or, perhaps,
she was only just insane."

He uttered this supposition in so earnest a tone that I could not
refrain from smiling. He left off biting his lower lip to apostrophize
me.

"Eh! Why not? Why couldn't there be something in her build, in her lines
corresponding to--What's madness? Only something just a tiny bit wrong
in the make of your brain. Why shouldn't there be a mad ship--I mean mad
in a ship-like way, so that under no circumstances could you be sure she
would do what any other sensible ship would naturally do for you. There
are ships that steer wildly, and ships that can't be quite trusted
always to stay; others want careful watching when running in a gale;
and, again, there may be a ship that will make heavy weather of it in
every little blow. But then you expect her to be always so. You take it
as part of her character, as a ship, just as you take account of a
man's peculiarities of temper when you deal with him. But with her you
couldn't. She was unaccountable. If she wasn't mad, then she was the
most evil-minded, underhand, savage brute that ever went afloat. I've
seen her run in a heavy gale beautifully for two days, and on the third
broach to twice in the same afternoon. The first time she flung the
helmsman clean over the wheel, but as she didn't quite manage to kill
him she had another try about three hours afterwards. She swamped
herself fore and aft, burst all the canvas we had set, scared all hands
into a panic, and even frightened Mrs. Colchester down there in these
beautiful stern cabins that she was so proud of. When we mustered the
crew there was one man missing. Swept overboard, of course, without
being either seen or heard, poor devil! and I only wonder more of us
didn't go.

"Always something like that. Always. I heard an old mate tell Captain
Colchester once that it had come to this with him, that he was afraid to
open his mouth to give any sort of order. She was as much of a terror
in harbour as at sea. You could never be certain what would hold her. On
the slightest provocation she would start snapping ropes, cables, wire
hawsers, like carrots. She was heavy, clumsy, unhandy--but that does not
quite explain that power for mischief she had. You know, somehow, when I
think of her I can't help remembering what we hear of incurable lunatics
breaking loose now and then."

He looked at me inquisitively. But, of course, I couldn't admit that a
ship could be mad.

"In the ports whe