"And why?" asked a blunt-nosed man, who was drinking Cuban rum with hot water and brown sugar. "Because she was built like a whale's belly, and had masts that raked the sky? For me," and he stirred his drink with much positiveness, "I like a ship with reasonable stowage, and a spread of sail that's within the activities of human men. Give more than that and you court peril; your great vessels will always be floating coffins; they will be beyond management in any sort of stiff weather." "Well," said the trader, "she's gone down, whatever the reason for it; and I'm told a fine cargo has gone with her." "Stevens set much store by that cargo," said Mr. Stroude, who was one of the group. "He counted upon it to set matters aright with his creditors." The snub-nosed man tossed off an equal half of his rum and hot water and regarded the remainder with appreciative eyes. "Stevens was always the sort to build upon things to come. He never gave his mind to the day at hand," said he. "For me, I like a man that stands with his feet on the ground and with his eyes on things within common view. I can understand a merchant like that. And with one I can't understand," and the snub-nosed man shook his head, "I'll have no dealings whatever." "Ah, well," said Mr. Stroude sadly, "you'll have no need to worry about Charles Stevens hereafter, if you've ever done so before." "What's the news of him now?" asked the portly trader. "What do the doctors say?" Mr. Stroude inhaled the fumes of his apple-toddy; then he tasted it; finding it to his satisfaction, he set it down. "King is his physician," he said. "A very able, learned, and ready man. They tell me he has made a study of men's brains and what they are like to do in times when they are much bothered. I've heard it said by those who should know that he had expected what's come about, that he'd been awaiting it these months past. Ah!" shaking his head in vast admiration, "science is a wonderful thing. The rest of us could go our ways days without end and never expect the half of that." The snub-nosed man seemed not convinced. "I've heard men say years ago that they thought Charles Stevens mad," he said. "And, for my part, I never gain-said them; for his ways of looking at things, or doing them, were not customary." The portly trader cleared his throat, and the sound was plainly one of dissent. "You may say what you like," spoke he, "but you'll never get public sanction for clapping a man into a madhouse because he's different from his neighbors. For," and he shook a thick forefinger, "if the world were filled with only people who thought in the customary way, and went their ways as others do, how should we go forward, I'd like to know?" "I have heard it reasoned that way before," said the snub-nosed man stubbornly. "Nevertheless, I am for ways that I understand. There's the nephew, now; he's the kind of man for my liking, a straight-forward, open-dealing young chap. A body can make something of him."