I had mounted the first rung of the ladder, and was regularly signed as a member of the crew of the Island Princess, bound for Canton with a cargo of woolen goods and ginseng. There was much that puzzled me aboard-ship--the discontent of the second mate, the perversity of the man Kipping (others besides myself had seen that wink), and a certain undercurrent of pessimism. But although I was separated a long, long way from my old friends in the cabin, I felt that in Bill Hayden I had found a friend of a sort; then, as I began my first real watch on deck at sea, I fell to thinking of my sister and Roger Hamlin. CHAPTER III THE MAN OUTSIDE THE GALLEY Strange events happened in our first month at sea--events so subtle as perhaps to seem an unimportant part of this narrative of a strange voyage, yet really as necessary to the foundation of the story as the single bricks and the single dabs of mortar at the base of a tall chimney are necessary to the completed structure. I later had cause to remember each trivial incident as if it had been written in letters of fire. In the first dog watch one afternoon, when we were a few days out of port, I was sitting with my back against the forward deck-house, practising splices and knots with a bit of rope that I had saved for the purpose. I was only a couple of feet from the corner, so of course I heard what was going on just out of sight. The voices were low but distinct. "Now leave me alone!" It was Bill Hayden who spoke. "I ain't never troubled you." "Ah, so you ain't troubled me, have you, you whimpering old dog?" "No, I ain't troubled you." "Oh, no! You was so glad to let me take your nice dry boots, you was, when mine was filled with water." The slow, mild, ostensibly patient voice could be none other than Kipping's. "I had to wear 'em myself." "Oh, had to wear 'em yourself, did you?" "Let go o' my arm!" "So?" "Let go, I tell you; let go or I'll--I swear I'll hammer you good." "Oh, you'll hammer me good, will you?" "Let go!" There was a sudden scuffle, then out from the corner of the deck-house danced Kipping with both hands pressed over his jaw. "You bloody scoundrel!" he snarled, meek no longer. "You wait--I'll get you. I'll--" Seeing me sitting there with my bit of rope, he stopped short; then, with a sneer, he walked away. Amazed at the sudden departure of his tormentor, Bill Hayden stuck his own head round the corner and in turn discovered me in my unintentional hiding-place. Bill, however, instead of departing in chagrin, joined me with a puzzled expression on his kind, stupid face. "I don't understand that Kipping," he said sadly. "I've tried to use him right. I've done everything I can to help him out and I'm sure I don't want to quarrel with him, yet for all he goes around as meek as a cat that's been in the cream, he's always pecking at me and pestering me, till just now I was fair drove to give him a smart larrup."