I had tried to hide this one happening from Margaret, and
I had failed. It could no longer be hidden save by lying; and so I
told her the truth, told her how and why the gangster had had his
face dashed with sulphuric acid by the old steward who knew white men
and their ways.
There is little more to write. The mutiny of the Elsinore is over.
The divided crew is ruled by the gangsters, who are as intent on
getting their leader into port as I am intent on getting all of them
into jail. The first lap of the voyage of the Elsinore draws to a
close. Two days, at most, with our present sailing, will bring us
into Valparaiso. And then, as beginning a new voyage, the Elsinore
will depart for Seattle.
One thing more remains for me to write, and then this strange log of
a strange cruise will be complete. It happened only last night. I
am yet fresh from it, and athrill with it and with the promise of it.
Margaret and I spent the last hour of the second dog-watch together
at the break of the poop. It was good again to feel the Elsinore
yielding to the wind-pressure on her canvas, to feel her again
slipping and sliding through the water in an easy sea.
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