UNDER SAIL

CONTENTS

AN INSTRUMENT OF THE GODS
THE UNCHARTED ISLE
SERVANT AND MASTER
RESCUE AT SEA
UNDER SAIL
ANJER

AN INSTRUMENT OF THE GODS

AN INSTRUMENT OF THE GODS

I

"The longer I live" said Nichols from the darkness of his corner "the less of difference I see between the East and the West. I've been listening closely to you fellows. We are fond of saying that we don't understand the Oriental; but, let me ask you, do we fully understand our best friends—even ourselves? Whose fault is it? Or, failing to understand the Oriental, is it logical for us to consign him to a different sphere of human nature? Of course, it's the easiest way to dodge the real answer...."

The old Omega had drifted that morning past Green Island, dropping anchor a little later among the fleet off Stonecutter's; and after dinner, moved by a common impulse, we had called our sampans and joined Nichols under her spacious after awning. There, with the broad land-locked harbour of Hong Kong under a half moon reflecting the perfect outline of the Peak, talk had wandered lazily along the range of our shipping activities, to reach at last, as it always did in such company, that world-old problem of the races of men.

"I think I know the race of Chinamen" Nichols went on, while grunts of assent from several quarters of the deck gave testimony to his reputation. "Oh, yes, I know them. They are made of flesh and blood, if you'll believe me; they eat with their mouths, and think in the recesses of their skulls, just as we do. They marry, beget children, and pass through life. They love, fight, strive for gain, sin, suffer, learn lessons, regret, make restitution, are tempted by devils, struggle and triumph, or give up in despair, and finally die with their years and their secrets on their heads. The same old conscience pursues them. Yes, they are eaten up, like us, by the savage and devastating contest with self, the flesh and the spirit striving for the mastery; and out of the contest, like fire struck from clashing swords, come the sparks of ideas, of aspirations, of creative efforts, of wonder and joy, pain and fear, of all the infinite play of this star-spangled life of ours against the soft darkness of the unknown sky.... You fellows have been discussing only superficialities. At heart, you and the Oriental are the same. The Chinese are romantic, I tell you; they are heroic, they are incorrigibly imaginative. You think not? Let me tell you a tale"

Suddenly Nichols laughed, a snort that might have been of self-derision. "You won't be convinced" he chuckled "I see it already. You'll derive from this tale, no doubt, only further confirmation of the unlikeness you imagine. So be it. I merely warn you not to be too sure. Strip my friend Lee Fu Chang naked, for instance, destroy and forget about that long silken coat of his, embroidered so wonderfully with hills and trees and dragons, dress him in a cowboy's suit and locate him in the Rocky Mountain region of fifty years ago, and the game he played with Captain Wilbur won't seem so inappropriate. It's only that you won't expect a mandarin Chinaman to play it. You'll feel that China is too old and civilized for what he did...."

II

"Some of you fellows must remember the notorious case of Captain Wilbur and the ship Speedwell" Nichols began "For years it was spoken of among sailors as a classic instance of nautical perfidy; and this was the port, you know, where Wilbur first brought the ship after he'd stolen her, and settled down to brazen out his crime. But few men have heard how he lost her in the end, or why he disappeared for ever from the life of the sea.

"Perhaps I'd better refresh your memories; let's go back a matter of forty years. Captain Wilbur was a well-known shipmaster of those palmy days. He had commanded the Speedwell for a decade, and possessed a reputation for sterling seamanship and unblemished integrity. His vessel was one of the finest moderate clippers ever launched on the shores of New England. But she was growing old; and Wilbur himself had suffered serious financial reverses, although this fact wasn't known till after the escapade that estranged his friends and set our little world by the ears. He seems to have been something of a gambler in investments, and by bad judgment or ill luck had brought his fortune to the verge of ruin if not of actual disgrace. This, so far as I know, stands as the sole explanation of his amazing downfall. There was nothing else the matter with him, physically or mentally, as you shall hear.

"Out of a clear sky, this was what he did: he deliberately put the Speedwell ashore in Ombay Pass, on a voyage home from Singapore to New York with a light general cargo, and abandoned her as she lay. I say he did it deliberately; this is the common surmise, and subsequent developments lend point to the accusation. It may have been, however, that she actually drifted ashore, and that he didn't try at the time to get her off. Whether he planned the disaster, or whether he succumbed to a temptation thrust in his