A stroke of luck was about to befall Captain Bradley. When he gained the _Viking’s_ deck, he found no one in command of the barge. Four frightened sailors gathered around him, taking him for their new captain. Piecing together their incoherent stories, he learned that the captain of the barge had been killed that morning in an accident at the loading berth. A hopper had broken loose, and had brained him as he stood beside the hatch. The mate, a drunken rascal, had disappeared on shore the evening before, and the captain had not expected him to return. The moment the scene of the accident had been cleaned up, they had towed the barge into the stream, in order to free the loading berth. There she lay, waiting for a new set of officers to be sent off from shore. When he had learned this much, a strange idea came to Captain Bradley. It seemed a slender chance; but a surprising energy and hope had taken possession of him. He got the address of the coal company’s shipping office, the place where these men had found their jobs; left his things aboard the _Viking_, gave the boatman two dollars to hurry him ashore, and went at once to the number on West Street where he had been told to apply. Luck followed him. He found the shipping office in a quandary over the _Viking’s_ case; they had no waiting list of barge officers, the tow for Boston was to be made up that afternoon, and the barge could not be sent to sea without someone in command. Captain Bradley told his story simply, showing papers that covered a career of nearly fifty years on the sea. His dignified and authoritative presence bore out the tale. "Well, Captain Bradley" said the shipping superintendent kindly "the job is yours. I guess you deserve it, sir" "Thank you" Captain Bradley gave a wry smile "I think I can fulfil my duties. I’ll try to give satisfaction, sir" He had not told them of his own relation to the _Viking_, fearing the injection of sentiment into a business-like application. That afternoon he joined his old command, at forty dollars a month and all found. He would not have called it a stroke of luck in the other days. How incredible, then, to look ahead, would have seemed the natural development that time had wrought. Could he have foreseen the end that he was coming to, he would have blown out his brains. But life had accomplished it easily and inexorably; failure had at last ground down the keen edge of his spirit, disappointment had rounded off the corners of his imperative nature. As he stepped across the rail of the barge _Viking_, only a great and pathetic happiness found place in his heart. His fight was finished. He had kept his pride at too terrible a cost. Now he gave it up, freely, gladly. Perhaps he would be allowed to die in peace, aboard the ship that had shared his better days.