Fine old ship—life had gone hard with her, too. The lofty masts and spreading spars had been lopped away; nothing remained above decks but the three lower masts. The decks themselves were grimy with coal dust; the woodwork had not seen paint for years. How well Captain Bradley remembered her appearance, when, spick and span from the shipyard, the best production of her day, he had taken her on her maiden voyage. It seemed impossible that a whole era of such intense human activity could so completely disappear, carrying its lore, its lessons, its origins, its very worth and meaning, into the oblivion of time. An economic empire had passed away. Dingy, battered, neglected, yet Captain Bradley loved the old vessel—loved her all the more for the hard knocks she had seen. A sentiment that he had thought to be dead reawoke in his heart. He had not known, he had not dared to admit, how much he had missed her. He felt as if he had come home. His duties were light. There were on the barge four men besides himself. He found time to clean her up. After every loading or discharging, he would have the decks thoroughly swept and washed down, and all the paintwork scrubbed. Later, out of his own pocket (he had no use for money now), he bought paint and freshened her appearance about decks; for the coal company, knowing that she would not last much longer, would provide nothing for upkeep. The cabin, the scene of so much that was sacred to him, he scrubbed and painted with his own hands, spending many quiet hours over the task while the barge was towing up and down the coast. It was a labour of peace and love. For a long while the matter of sails gave Captain Bradley deep concern. The barge was rigged on the three lower masts with fore-and-aft sails, to be used in an emergency, when she had broken adrift from her tow. Often these sails would be set to assist her progress when the wind was fair. Smothered in coal dust, exposed to sun and rain, the first suit that had been given her as a barge was now worn out; the canvas would hardly hold together to be hoisted. Not that Captain Bradley cared a pin for his own safety; nothing would have better pleased him than to be lost at sea aboard the _Viking_. But the condition offended his sense of seamanship and responsibility. It was an indecency to the old ship to fail to provide her with the ordinary weapons of battle; and there were other lives than his involved.