“The Clara Em was sot to sail,” replied Captain Hap calmly. “That’s about all. Her owners they were sot, and her cap’n he was sot. It was the sotness done it. They’d make the market first, you see, if they got the start--and it’s a job gettin’ your crew aboard, you know. Anything to get your crew. Drunk or sober, that isn’t the point. Drunker they be, the easier to ship ’em. _See? Get your crew._ Get ’em anyhow! They was all full, every mother’s son of ’em. Cap’n Joe, he was the only sober soul aboard, and that’s the truth, and he knew it when he set sail. Yes--oh, yes. The storm was comin’. He knew it was breezin’ up.--Oh, yes, of course. So he got some sober men off the wharves to help him at the sheets, and he put up every stitch. Yes, sir! Every stitch he had! And out he sails--with thirteen drunken men aboard--him at the wheel, and not a hand to help him. That’s the English on’t. The boat was d----drunk, beg your pardon, Parson! He driv right out the harbor, and it was a sou’easter, and blew quite a breeze o’ wind, and you see he tacked, and set in, and he was tackin’ out, and it had breezed up consider’ble more’n he expected. So he drove right on the reef. That’s about it.” “But why didn’t he take in sail?” “How was he goin’ to do it with that crew? Why, he couldn’t leave the wheel to tie a reef-point.” “But there was his anchor.” “Did you ever try to heave one of them big anchors? It takes four men.” “What a situation! Horrible!” “Wall, yes; it was inconvenient--him at the wheel, and a dead drunk crew, thirteen of ’em, below. Why, they was too drunk to know whether they drowned or not.” “Can the boat be raised? Will she ever be good for anything?” “Kindlin’ wood,” remarked the captain dryly. “Captain Hap,” asked Bayard feebly, “do things like this often happen?” “Sometimes.” “Isn’t this an extreme case?” “Well, it don’t happen every day.” “But things of this kind--do they occur often? Do you know of other cases?” “Windover don’t have the monopoly of ’em by no means,” mused Captain Hap. “There was the Daredevil over on South Shore. She was launched about a year ago. She went on a trial spin one day, and everybody aboard was pretty jolly. They put all their canvas up to show her off. It was a nor’wester that day, and they driv her right before the wind. She jest plunged bows down, and driv straight to the bottom, the Daredevil did. Some said it was her name. But, Lord, rum done it.” “What do people say--how do they take it here in Windover, this case of the Clara Em? Weren’t they indignant?” “Wall, the insurance folks was mad.” “No, but the people--the citizens--the Christian people--how do they feel about it?” “Oh, they’re used to it,” said Captain Hap. Bayard turned wearily on his hard bed. He did not answer. He looked out and towards the sea. The engraved Guido over the study-table between the little windows regarded him. St. Michael was fighting with his dragon still.