Hindhaugh looked ashore, and saw a dark face that he knew well. He whistled and smiled. Then he said to the officer, "You may just as well stop those poor beggars from blistering their hands. You won't find anything here except what the men have in the forecastle. You're done this journey fairly. Come away down and liquor, and I'll tell you all about it." Then Hindhaugh gave an artistic account of the whole transaction, and put the matter in such a light that the custom-house officer cordially congratulated him on having escaped without a slit weasand. The Jenny Jones went back to Gibraltar, and Captain Hindhaugh was very careful never to go ashore without a companion. One day he was passing a chandler's shop when a sunken glitter of dark eyes met him. His old acquaintance, the chief Scorpion, was looking stilettos and poison at him. But Hindhaugh went by in his big, burly way, and contented himself with setting on three watchmen every night during his stay. To this day he is pleased with himself for having given the foreigners a lesson in the elements of morality, and he does not fear their knives one whit. THE MASTER OF THE "CHRYSOLITE" BY G. B. O'HALLORAN Captain Anderson stood alone in the world. But he was one who COULD stand alone, for his will was strong and his affections were weak. Those who thought they knew him best said he was hardy. The remainder said he was hard, his heart a stone. Still he was a human being, for, like others, he cherished hobbies. His hobbies, however, were not of that class which is compassed about by rest and roses. Instead, they were clothed with a stern delight born of defiance and danger. To work his ship across the Bay in the teeth of an adverse gale; to weather a lee shore; to master a rebellious crew single-handed--these were the wild diversions which satisfied him. Once, in the China seas, his men grew mutinous, said the ship was "leaking like a lobster-pot," and straightway put her about for Singapore; swore they did not care what the skipper thought--in fact, would like to talk to him a bit. The skipper was below when the first mate brought down the news and a very pale face as well. "Tell the men to muster!" So soon as the mate's back was turned, John Anderson took a revolver from a locker and charged it; then, ascending the companion-ladder, he walked to the break of the poop, with his hands buried in the pockets of a pea-jacket. Down below him were the men, lolling about in a sullen crowd on the weather side of the quarter-deck. They were thirty or forty in number, and were a vicious-looking set. "Now then, my men! Half an hour ago we were steering due northeast. Who was it dared to lay the ship's nose the other way?" The burly boatswain swung his way out of the crowd, planted his foot on the first step of the poop-ladder, and stared up at the captain.