Fate gave them another meeting and another chance. Four years later both were paid off at San Francisco, and in looking for berths each met a skipper looking for mates, but at different times. Smith met him first, and, his credentials being good, while his reputation was world-wide and splendid, from a skipper's viewpoint, he was gladly accepted as first officer and sent aboard the ship, lying at anchor in the bay. Jones, rather than wait indefinitely for a berth as first mate, shipped as second, but only after a delay that brought him aboard as the ship was lifting her anchor. Neither knew of the other's presence in port, and their meeting on the poop as the tug was towing the ship to the Golden Gate was a matter of speculation to Captain Brown for some days after. They were introduced by the polite and enthusiastic skipper, who congratulated himself at the moment on his getting two such stars into his ship as Bully Smith and Black Jones of New York--and they stood stock-still and silent, staring at each other, while beads of perspiration gathered on their brows; then both wheeled and walked away, as they had done on the frozen plateau of Cape Horn. Mr. Smith to the forecastle, where the men, under the boatswains, were catting and fishing the anchor; Mr. Jones, to his room off the forward companion-alley. Here he sat on his chest, reviling Smith, his luck, the skipper who had shipped him, and the God above who had created him and brought him into contact with Smith and the things concerning Smith that he could not understand. Why, he asked himself, had he not thrashed him as a boy, or made friends with him? Dimly, through this inquiry indexed by his curses, Jones at this moment had a fleeting glimpse into the scientific basis of the Golden Rule, ever a fallacy to him. But his past and his present would not permit of a continuance of the mind process. Here he was, a competent first mate with a master's certificate, second mate under a first mate, who was Smith. And at this he listened to a message delivered by the steward from the captain, that his presence was required on deck. He went up, nervous as a cat in a strange place. Even though the ship was on her way and far from the beach, he approached the captain to ask that he be put ashore. But the captain quietly said, "Report to Mr. Smith, sir," and Jones walked forward to report, meeting Smith coming aft from the forecastle. "Ready for work, sir," stammered Jones. "What do you wish?" "No--nothing," answered Smith, equally embarrassed. They passed on, Smith aft to speak to the captain, Jones forward, around the house, meekly bearing the scrutiny of the men, and back to the main-rigging, where he stood idly looking aloft for a moment or two; then he coiled up a rope--a task that ordinarily he would have summoned a man to in a burst of invective. Mr. Smith walked up to the captain. "Anchor's on the rail, sir," he said. "What next, sir?"