West Wind Drift | Page 8

was in charge of the
heterogeneous horde of miners, labaurers, structural workers and
assayists who were engaged in the development and extension of the
vast concession controlled by his company.
His description of the camp or town in which this motley assemblage
dwelt from one year's end to the other, far from civilization, was
illuminating to the two sea-faring men. It must be confessed, however,
that a sound reluctance to swallow the tale without the proverbial grain
of salt caused them to watch closely for the slightest sign that might
reveal to them the always-to-be expected and seldom successful
duplicity so common in those harrowing days when all men were
objects of suspicion. From time to time they glanced inquiringly at each
other, but the stranger's story was so straightforward, so lacking in
personal exploitation, so free from unnecessary detail, that they were
finally convinced that he was all that he represented himself to be and
that they had nothing to fear from him.
His long, hazardous journey by horse through the passes down into the
forests and jungles, out upon the endless, sparsely settled pampas, and
eventually into the remote village that witnessed the passing every
second day of a primitive and far from dependable railway train, was
presented with agreeable simplicity and conciseness. He passed briefly
over what might have been expanded into grave experiences, and at last
came, so to speak, to the gates of the city, unharmed, resolute and full
of the fire that knows no quenching.
"By the way," observed the Captain, still wary, "has it occurred to you

we may be justified in suspecting that you deserted your post up there
in the hills, and that you have betrayed the confidence of your
employers?" Percival had completed what he evidently believed to be a
full and satisfactory account of himself.
"I was in full charge up there, Captain Trigger. My contract had but a
month more to run. I appointed my own successor, and the company
will not be any the worse off for the change. My letter to headquarters,
announcing my decision not to renew the contract, went forward two
weeks before I left the camp. I merely anticipated the actual
termination of my contract by a month or so, and as I handed my
resignation at once to my own newly appointed superintendent, I
submit that I acted in absolute good faith. I may say that he accepted it
without a word of protest, sir. As a matter of fact, I told him in advance
that I wouldn't appoint him unless he agreed to accept my resignation."
The Captain smiled at this ingenuous explanation.
"I daresay I ought to put you under guard, Mr. Percival," he said. "My
duty is very plain. A stowaway is a stowaway, no matter how you look
at him. The regulations do not leave me any choice. Maritime justice is
rarely tempered by mercy. However, under the circumstances, I am
inclined to accept your word of honour that you will not violate your
parole if I refrain from putting you in irons. Have I your word of
honour that you will not leave this ship until I hand you over to the
proper authorities in the United States?"
"You have, sir."
"You are a very head-strong, ambitious young man. You will not jump
overboard and try to beat us into port under your own steam?"
"You may trust me, sir, never to give up the ship."
"And you will kill as many Germans as possible?"
"Yes, sir," said A. A. Percival submissively.

Captain Trigger arose and extended his hand.
"I've never done anything like this before in all my years as ship's
master. You ought to be flogged and stowed away in the brig until you
show a properly subdued spirit, young man. I suppose you've heard of
the cat-o'-nine-tails?"
"My reading up to the age of fifteen was confined almost exclusively to
the genteel histories of pirates, buccaneers and privateersmen, Captain
Trigger," announced A. A. Percival, taking the master's hand in a firm
grip. "I wonder if you know what a black-snake whip is, or a
cattle-adder? Well, they're both painful and convincing. As director of
morals in the camp I have just left behind me, it was my official duty
on frequent occasions to see to it that current offenders had from fifteen
to fifty applications of the black-snake in a public sort of way. The
black-snake, I may explain, could be wielded by a strong but unskilled
arm. It was different, however, with the cattle-adder. That had to be
handled by an expert, one who could stand off twenty paces, more or
less, and crack the long lash with such astonishing precision that the tip
end of it barely touched the back of the culprit, the