they swung their rowboat around and rowed back towards us. A steward and a couple of sailors got a rope-ladder which they hung over the railing of the deck, and down this Packer and myself clambered, and jumped into the rowboat which had now reached the sides of the Vestris. The two men of the rowboat now pulled out to let the ocean liner pass by, so as not to get caught in the vortex of water caused by the propellers.

The sea was rough; a leaden sky cast a gloomy canopy over the leaden water; to the left rose the dun-colored cerro crowned by its prison and lighthouse. In the background nearly two miles away, seemed to rise in tiers, the somber buildings of drab Montevideo, the twin towers of the cathedral, the Gothic steeple of a church, and a large rectangular pile at the water's edge, which was formerly the university, being silhouetted against the sky line. Black hulls of ships, merchantmen, and freighters flying the flags of most civilized nations, besides the interned German ships of the Kosmos Line, dotted the harbor and the open sea outside of the breakwater, but we were at least half a mile from the nearest one of them.

We now began to size up the two boatmen. They were a villainous looking pair. The one who acted as the boss was an undersized man about thirty-five years old. He wore a black moustache, and about two weeks stubble of beard. His hair was unkempt, and white mucus had collected at the corners of his mouth and eyes. He stunk of garlic, and his clothes were dirty and greasy. His companion was a tall and slender man, a few years his junior. His appearance was likewise unkempt, although his long face, covered with pimples, was clean shaven, except for an occasional straggling whisker on his chin which his razor had overlooked.

The boss boatman, knowing me to be a North American, attempted to converse with me in English, but his knowledge of that tongue was so execrable that he soon had to desist; he knew but a few words of Spanish. By mixing lingoes we made ourselves understood and he informed me that he was a resident of Rio de Janeiro, of which city he was a native, and that he was at present employed as a doctor on a Brazilian passenger ship in Montevideo, and that his regular trips were from Manaos on the Amazon to Montevideo, touching at all the seaports; his comrade, he informed me, was a Paulista and was the Marconi operator on the same ship. Both had been making a visit to the different ships now anchored in Montevideo harbor, having had chats with the doctors and Marconi-men of said ships, and were returning to their own vessel when hailed by us.

This yarn I refused to believe, for no man that I had ever seen had a more unmedical appearance than the boss boatman; moreover instead of attempting to row us to the docks, both men were rowing towards the Brazilian vessel, which we were approaching, and which belied its title of a passenger ship, having more the appearance of a freighter. The sea, as I said, was rough, and I yelled to the boatmen to swing around as I had no desire to be carried into the South Atlantic in an open boat; my misgivings were not so much on account of the elements, as for the thought that I became obsessed with, namely that these two vagabonds were trying to shanghai us, endeavoring to get us aboard the Brazilian ship. Montevideo, Valparaiso, and Callao are noted as tough ports, where shanghaiing is rife, and many of these stories were brought to my mind. To Packer, who lay reposing in the stern, I told my doubts. He replied that he had been thinking the same thing for some time. I told him the best thing for us to do would be to ask for the oars so that we could row back to shore ourselves; in case the boatmen refused, to rush them, and lay them out. He said he was game for a fight but refused to row, giving some excuse which I interpreted in meaning that he was too lazy. I had nothing but a pocket knife with me, and in case of a fight, meant to plant the blade in some vulnerable spot in the anatomy of the boss boatman, whom I took to be the boss villain.

We had gradually been drifting out in the open sea, and the waves were becoming rougher. These were also unpleasant thoughts, especially since during the last few minutes the Brazilians had developed a streak of laziness. Packer gave me a wink which was the cue, and I asked for the oars. Great was my astonishment and also relief of mind, when instead of refusing my request which would have brought on a sanguinary fight with possible loss of life to one or more of us, the boss boatman handed me the oars. The Paulista, ready for a siesta, even though the sea was rough, dropped his oars beside his comrade, and turned over on his side for a snooze. All alone, with no help, I had to row the three occupants back, as each refused to labor any more. It took me two hours, hard pulling, before we again reached the dock at Montevideo. Believing that the "doctor" stunt was a lie, and that both were sailors from the Brazilian vessel, I offered the boatmen a piece of change for their aid in bringing us to terra firma, for unless they had taken us in their rowboat we would by this time be well under way for Santos. The boss boatman was indignant and informed me that I was insulting him. I then handed out some silver to the "Marconi" operator; he was on the point of accepting it, but withdrew his hand at a growl of disapproval from the "doctor."

"You had better have some refreshment," I said to them, leading the way to a nearby bar. They followed me and seating themselves at the same table with us, ordered some raspberry soda. This was astonishment No. 2, for I could hardly conceive such villainous-looking rascals imbibing anything milder than one hundred proof whiskey.

"See this ring," quoth the Fluminense, turning a finger to me so that I could see within the gold setting, a black stone in which was chiselled the image of a serpent: "It denotes the cult of Æsculapius. Most Brazilian doctors wear them. I have been on the same ship for three years. Here is my card." The man pulled a book out of his pocket similar to a lodge pass-book at home, and true enough I saw that he was telling the truth, and that he really was a bona fide physician.

We must have sat at the table for about fifteen minutes, when the Marconi operator got into a row with the waiter, whom he claimed overcharged him the day before on a dish of ice cream. The waiter called the proprietor and a big rumpus occurred. It wound up by the Paulista pulling a fist full of nickle-in-the-slot machine slugs out of his pocket and hurling them with great force into the face of the outraged proprietor. Before he could recover his astonishment, both Brazilians "beat it" in the direction of the docks. Packer and I, anticipating trouble, also "beat it," but up the hill. No man likes to chase another up hill. In case any reader of this article should go to Montevideo, and would like to know where this particular café is, I wish to inform him that it is situated at the southwest corner of the streets, Rampla and Alzaibar.

That same night as I was standing on the Plaza Matriz in front of the Hotel Lanata, I was accosted by a very clean-looking gentleman, immaculately dressed in black, wearing spats, and carrying a small cane. I thought it was a case of mistaken identity and was about to pass on, when to my amazement I recognized the doctor. The transformation was complete. He could now pass for a boulevardier while before he had the air of a cutthroat. He informed me that he had rowed back to his ship, changed his attire, and had returned to shore by a motor boat.

The city of Montevideo has about four hundred thousand inhabitants exclusive of suburbs, and stretches over quite an area of land, due to the broad streets and lowness of its houses. It is built around the harbor and also along the Atlantic