The Cruise of the Jasper B. | Page 7

a nocturne waiting for its Whistler; here sea
and city met in glamour and beauty and illusion.

But it was not the city which called to Cleggett. It was the sea.
A breeze blew in from the bay and stirred his window curtains; it was
salt in his nostrils. . . .And, staring out into the breathing night, he saw
a succession of pictures. . . .
Stripped to a pair of cotton trousers, with a dripping cutlass in one hand
and a Colt's revolver in the other, an adventurer at the head of a bunch
of dogs as desperate as himself fought his way across the reeking decks
of a Chinese junk, to close in single combat with a gigantic one-eyed
pirate who stood by the helm with a ring of dead men about him and a
great two-handed sword upheaved. . . . This adventurer was--Clement J.
Cleggett! . . .
Through the phosphorescent waters of a summer sea, reckless of
cruising sharks, a sailor's clasp knife in his teeth, glided noiselessly a
strong swimmer; he reached the side of a schooner yacht from which
rose the wild cries of beauty in distress, swarmed aboard with a
muttered prayer that was half a curse, swept the water from his eyes,
and with pale, stern face went about the bloody business of a hero. . . .
Again, this adventurer was Clement J. Cleggett!
Cleggett turned from the window.
"I'll do it," he cried. "I'll do it!"
He grasped a cutlass.
"Pirates!" he cried, swinging it about his head. "That's the thing--pirates
and the China Seas!"
And with one frightful sweep of his blade he disemboweled a sofa
cushion; the second blow clove his typewriting machine clean to the
tattoo marks upon its breast; the third decapitated a sectional bookcase.
But what is a sectional bookcase to a man with $500,000 in his pocket
and the Seven Seas before him?

CHAPTER III
A SCHOONER, A SKIPPER, AND A SKULL
It was a few days later, when a goodly number of the late Uncle Tom's
easily negotiable securities had been converted into cash, and the cash
deposited in the bank, that Cleggett bought the Jasper B.
He discovered her near the town of Fairport, Long Island, one
afternoon. The vessel lay in one of the canals which reach inward from
the Great South Bay. She looked as if she might have been there for
some time. Evidently, at one period, the Jasper B. had played a part in
some catch-coin scheme of summer entertainment; a scheme that had
failed. Little trace of it remained except a rotting wooden platform,
roofless and built close to the canal, and a gangway arrangement from
this platform to the deck of the vessel.
The Jasper B. had seen better days; even a landsman could tell that. But
from the blunt bows to the weather-scarred stern, on which the name
was faintly discernible, the hulk had an air about it, the air of
something that has lived; it was eloquent of a varied and interesting
past.
And, to complete the picture, there sat on her deck a gnarled and brown
old man. He smoked a short pipe which was partially hidden in a tangle
of beard that had once been yellowish red but was now streaked with
dirty white; he fished earnestly without apparent result, and from time
to time he spat into the water. Cleggett's nimble fancy at once put rings
into his ears and dowered him with a history.
Cleggett noticed, as he walked aboard the vessel, that she seemed to be
jammed not merely against, but into the bank of the canal. She was
nearer the shore than he had ever seen a vessel of any sort. Some weeds
grew in soil that had lodged upon the deck; in a couple of places they
sprang as high as the rail. Weeds grew on shore; in fact, it would have
taken a better nautical authority than Cleggett to tell offhand just
exactly where the land ended and the Jasper B. began. She seemed to
be possessed of an odd stability; although the tide was receding the

Jasper B. was not perceptibly agitated by the motion of the water. Of
anchor, or mooring chains or cables of any sort, there was no sign.
The brown old man--he was brown not only as to the portions of his
skin visible through his hair and whiskers, but also as to coat and
trousers and worn boots and cap and pipe and flannel shirt--turned
around as Cleggett stepped aboard, and stared at the invader with a
shaggy-browed intensity that was embarrassing.
It occurred to Cleggett that the old man might own the vessel and make
a home of her.
"I beg your pardon if I am intruding," ventured Cleggett, politely,