The voyage of Peter's Bark in search of another world has been less fortunate than that of Columbus. There have been mutinies on board; the other world is not yet found. Soon after this good ship, the _Saint Christopher_, was launched from her Phoenician home-port, she had a strange experience very like that which legend attributes to her namesake, the sainted ferryman. Her freight at the beginning seemed to be of the lightest--only living Hopes and daily Miracles; and the crossing was to be very brief, the other shore being plainly visible at a stone's throw. But that promised land turned out to be a mirage, lying across the mouth of the port, which really opened out into a vast ocean. Meantime the cargo too was strangely transformed; for whilst the Hopes and Miracles were still reputed to be on board, they were hidden from sight and smothered in a litter of Possessions. These included a great load of Books, a heavy fund of Traditions, and a multitude of unruly passengers, with their clamorous wives and children, and all sorts of provender. So over-weighted, the _Saint Christopher_ sank down until the waves almost covered her deck; but she was staunch, like the wading saint when his light burden grew heavier and heavier, and she laboured on. Not only was this ship named after a saint--which in so old a ship is no wonder--but incredible as it may seem, her captain was a saint too--Saint Simon or (since these vague roving people often have an _alias_) Saint Peter. He had been a fisherman by profession, and had only become a saint late in life; a fact which explained his good seamanship and his bad language. Besides, he did not pretend to be a saint except in his official capacity, as captain, and in matters of science and navigation: in his private life he was frankly not impeccable, and deprecated any strict scrutiny of it as not to the point. Not only might there have been some blemishes in his early career, but even when in command he might have his faults. People enjoy doing what they can do well from long habit; and he was perhaps too fond of fishing, of cursing, and of commanding. These foibles once brought upon him a serious mutiny. A large part of the crew, imitating his expressive speech, cried, "Damn the captain!" and took to the boats, saying the ship was rotten and water-logged. They carried away with them most of the Hopes, whilst scrupulously leaving the Miracles alone. In their boats and rafts they pulled ahead in all directions, covering the sea with specks for a long distance; and the captain, after running down and sinking a few of them in his towering rage, got used to their existence, made things shipshape again on board, and fell to observing them, not without some chucklings of humour, rowing and splashing about, quarrelling and never getting anywhere, but often merely drifting and quietly fishing, much in his own old maimer.