native of New England. He had once held a master's certificate, but this, it appeared, had been suspended indefinitely owing to his ship having piled herself up on a reef off New Guinea. Therefore, when Calamity proposed that he should ship as first mate, he was quite willing, as he put it, to "freeze right on."

Partly through the instrumentality of this latter acquisition, Calamity was able to secure a second mate in the person of Mr. Sam Smith, a little Cockney of unsober habits. A second engineer named Sims, a taciturn man of middle age, was also picked up, and thus Calamity succeeded in collecting a ship's company suitable in quantity if not in quality.

In the meantime, Mr. Solomon had also been busy. On the day following his entry into partnership with Calamity, he went to Johore and paid an afternoon call on Mr. Rossenbaum, a gentleman of similar persuasions to his own. For some weeks past they had been haggling over a business deal, which, up to that day, had not been settled. Mr. Rossenbaum possessed a steamer which he wanted repaired, and Mr. Solomon had the docking facilities necessary for the job, and the only thing which had so far stood between them was a difference of opinion as to price.

The meeting between these two gentlemen afforded a magnificent piece of acting. Both appeared to have forgotten all about the subject over which they had been negotiating, and conversed amicably on neutral topics. The war, of course, came up for discussion, and this led Mr. Solomon to remark that money was scarce. Mr. Rossenbaum agreed, not only because it was the truth, but because he had always maintained this view, even when money was plentiful.

Mr. Solomon went on to say that, in consequence of the said scarcity of coin, he was now obliged to undertake contracts on unremunerative terms, simply for the sake of the cash. Mr. Rossenbaum expressed his sympathy and added, as though the matter had never before been mentioned between them, that he had a steamer laying up, solely because he was unable to pay the extortionate prices demanded by ship-repairers for overhauling her.

This was tantamount to a challenge, and Mr. Solomon accepted it. For a time they fenced and dodged, but at last, casting aside all pretence, came to grips over the bargain. It was a combat of wits between two men as well matched as any in the world, and it lasted well into the afternoon. Eventually Mr. Solomon made a great business of giving way and agreed to accept the contract on the amended terms if half the money were paid in advance. Mr. Rossenbaum reluctantly consented on condition that he was allowed 5 per cent discount on the advance. Mr. Solomon nearly fainted, and, with tears in his eyes, declared that if he agreed ruination would stare him in the face. Finally, he consented to a 2-1/2 per cent discount, and the business was concluded at last. Each, on parting, assured the other that he had spent one of the most enjoyable days of his life, and this was probably the only truthful statement either had made throughout the interview.

Over a week elapsed before Calamity and his partner met again, and, contrary to the Captain's expectations, Mr. Solomon evinced no desire to back out of the venture. On the contrary, he exhibited an almost painful desire to see the expedition set out with as little loss of time as possible—a fact which his partner regarded with not unreasonable suspicion.

"It depends on the ship," he said in reply to Mr. Solomon's eager inquiries. "How long am I to wait for her?"

"No need to vait at all; the ship is vaiting for you," said the other, pointing towards a newly painted steamer in the harbour.

Calamity gazed at the vessel and then at his companion with an air of mistrust. Such promptitude on Mr. Solomon's part was, to say the least, unusual.

"What about provisions, coal, guns, and so forth?" he demanded curtly.

"Everything's ready, and as to guns——" Mr. Solomon put his hand on the Captain's shoulder and whispered the rest in his ear.

"H'm," grunted Calamity, "I hope she's not some cursed old derelict you've picked up for a song."

"Picked up for a song!" echoed Mr. Solomon indignantly. "Vat you mean? She cost me——"

"Well?" inquired Calamity with interest as the other paused abruptly.

"Nodding—I mean," Mr. Solomon corrected himself hastily, "it has noddings to do with the matter. She is a peautiful ship."

"We shall see," said the Captain, rising to leave. "I'll go and have a look at your hooker now and see what she's like. Meet you this evening."

Mr. Solomon nodded, and stood watching the short, squat figure of his partner disappear in the direction of the harbour. Then, rubbing his hands together and chuckling wheezily, he turned away from the window.

On reaching the harbour, Calamity engaged a sampan and was taken to the steamer. There being no one on board, he was able to make an uninterrupted and very thorough examination, and, to his surprise, found that she was all that Solomon had claimed her to be. She was comparatively new—not more than five years old at most—of about 3,000 odd tons and with every indication of being seaworthy and sound. The food, too, was not as bad as it might have been; some of it, indeed, seemed quite eatable. Moreover, Mr. Solomon, in an extraordinary fit of liberality, had not only re-painted the ship, but had also caused the name Hawk to be emblazoned on her stern in letters of gold—which, by the way, Calamity had painted out the very next day. Nor had Solomon forgotten the primary object of the expedition, for in the after-hold were six machine-guns—rather antiquated as such weapons go, perhaps, but most decidedly serviceable. Ammunition and small-arms were there in plenty, the latter a somewhat miscellaneous collection of varying degrees of deadliness.

The Captain, as he noted all this, felt a growing sense of perplexity. It was so utterly unlike Mr. Solomon to do anything thoroughly—always excepting his clients, of course—that he felt almost apprehensive. He was like an animal, sniffing an appetising morsel, while fearing that it was merely the bait of some concealed trap. For some time he stood leaning on the bulwarks thinking hard, but at last the worried expression left his face and was succeeded by a smile; a smile that would not have made Mr. Solomon any the happier had he seen it.

Having made himself acquainted with the ship, Calamity decided to waste no further time. Going ashore again, he collected his crew and sent them aboard under Mr. Dykes, the mate. Those who were not sober enough to walk were carried by those who were and flung unceremoniously into the boats—a joyful, polyglot crowd with complexions as varied as their sins. On reaching the Hawk, the firemen were kicked below to get up steam and the deck-hands set to holy-stoning and polishing.

When Calamity came on board a little later, he sent for Mr. Dykes, and the two had a brief conference appertaining to the work of the ship.

"What's the crew like, Mr. Dykes?" asked the Captain presently.

"Like!" echoed the mate. "I reckon the devil's opened hell's gates somewheres around here and we've picked up a few of them what's got out. There'll be red, ruddy, blazin' mutiny before a week's out, and, with the number we've got on board, we shan't stand a yaller dog's chance."

Calamity smiled.

"Don't worry yourself, Mr. Dykes, I don't think we shall have very much trouble with them. One or two, I know, have sailed with me before and they, probably, will give the others the benefit of their experience."

Mr. Dykes having been dismissed, chief-engineer McPhulach was summoned to the cabin. Asked his opinion of the men under him, his reply varied in terms but agreed in spirit with that already given by the mate.

"The scum of the bottomless pit," was how he put it.

"They may not be a liner's crew exactly," said Calamity in an almost gentle voice, "but I think we shall understand one another before long."

Whereat