Part 10

“I caught up a belaying-pin, though little good that would have done me. I think he saw me do it, and doubtless he set me down for an enemy then and there.

“We were well out of the harbor, and there was no turning back, but I would have given my right hand to be off that boat. I fully expected him to eat me up, and I slept with that belaying-pin sticking into my ribs in the hammock, and with my revolver loaded and handy.

“Fortunately, Gulliver’s dislike for me took the form of sublime contempt. He knew I was afraid of him, and he despised me for it. He was a great pet with the captain and crew, and even the Moros treated him with admiring respect when they were allowed on deck. I couldn’t understand it. I would as soon have made a pet of a hungry boa-constrictor.

“On the third day out the poor old boiler burst and the _Old Squaw_ caught fire. She was dry and rotten inside and she burned like tinder. No attempt was made to extinguish the flames, which got into the hemp in the hold in short order.

“The smoke was stifling, and in a jiffy all hands were struggling with the boats. The Moros came tumbling up from below and added to the confusion with their terrified yells.

“The davits were old and rusty, and the men were soon fighting among themselves. One boat dropped stern foremost, filled, and sank immediately, and the _Old Squaw_ herself was visibly settling.

“I saw there was no chance of getting away in the boats, and I recalled a life-raft on the deck forward near my hammock. It was a sort of catamaran—a double platform on a pair of hollow, water-tight, cylindrical buoys. It wasn’t twenty feet long and about half as broad, but it would have to do. I fancy it was a forgotten relic of the old excursion-boat days.

“There was no time to lose, for the _Old Squaw_ was bound to sink presently. Besides, I was aft with the rest, and the flames were licking up the deck and running-gear in the waist of the boat.

“The galley, which was amidships near the engine-room, had received the full force of the explosion, and the cook lay moaning in the lee scuppers with a small water-cask thumping against his chest. I couldn’t stop to help the man, but I did kick the cask away.

“It seemed to be nearly full, and it occurred to me that I should need it. I glanced quickly around, and luckily found a tin of biscuits that had also been blown out of the galley. I picked this up, and rolling the cask of water ahead of me as rapidly as I could, I made my way through the hot, stifling smoke to the bow of the boat.

“I kicked at the life-raft; it seemed to be sound, and I lashed the biscuits and water to it. I also threw on a coil of rope and a piece of sail-cloth. I saw nothing else about that could possibly be of any value to me. I abandoned my trunk for fear it would only prove troublesome.

“Then I hacked the raft loose with my knife and shoved it over to the bulwark. Apparently no one had seen me, for there was no one else forward of the sheet of flame that now cut the boat in two.

“The raft was a mighty heavy affair, but I managed to raise one end to the rail. I don’t believe I would ever have been able to heave it over under any circumstances, but I didn’t have to.

“I felt a great upheaval, and the prow of the _Old Squaw_ went up into the air. I grabbed the ropes that I had lashed the food on with and clung to the raft. The deck became almost perpendicular, and it was a miracle that the raft didn’t slide down with me into the flames. Somehow it stuck where it was.

“Then the boat sank with a great roar, and for about a thousand years, it seemed to me, I was under water. I didn’t do anything. I couldn’t think.

“I was only conscious of a tremendous weight of water and a feeling that I would burst open. Instinct alone made me cling to the raft.

“When it finally brought me to the surface I was as nearly dead as I care to be. I lay there on the thing in a half-conscious condition for an endless time. If my life had depended on my doing something, I would have been lost.

“Then gradually I came to, and began to spit out salt water and gasp for breath. I gathered my wits together and sat up. My hands were absolutely numb, and I had to loosen the grip of my fingers with the help of my toes. Odd sensation.

“Then I looked about me. My biscuits and water and rope were safe, but the sail-cloth had vanished. I remember that this annoyed me hugely at the time, though I don’t know what earthly good it would have been.

“The sea was fairly calm, and I could see all about. Not a human being was visible, only a few floating bits of wreckage. Every man on board must have gone down with the ship and drowned, except myself.

“Then I caught sight of something that made my heart stand still. The huge head of Gulliver was coming rapidly toward me through the water!

“The dog was swimming strongly, and must have leaped from the _Old Squaw_ before she sank. My raft was the only thing afloat large enough to hold him, and he knew it.

“I drew my revolver, but it was soaking wet and useless. Then I sat down on the cracker-tin and gritted my teeth and waited. I had been alarmed, I must admit, when the boiler blew up and the panic began, but that was nothing to the terror that seized me now.

“Here I was all alone on the top of the Pacific Ocean with a horrible demon making for me as fast as he could swim. My mind was benumbed, and I could think of nothing to do. I trembled and my teeth rattled. I prayed for a shark, but no shark came.

“Soon Gulliver reached the raft and placed one of his forepaws on it and then the other. The top of it stood six or eight inches above the water, and it took a great effort for the dog to raise himself. I wanted to kick him back, but I didn’t dare to move.

“Gulliver struggled mightily. Again and again he reared his great shoulders above the sea, only to be cast back, scratching and kicking, at a lurch of the raft.

“Finally a wave favored him, and he caught the edge of the under platform with one of his hind feet. With a stupendous effort he heaved his huge bulk over the edge and lay sprawling at my feet, panting and trembling.”

Enderby paused and gazed out of the window with a big sigh, as though the recital of his story had brought back some of the horror of his remarkable experience.

Nubbins looked up inquiringly, and then snuggled closer to his friend, while Enderby smoothed the white head.

“Well,” he continued, “there we were. You can’t possibly imagine how I felt unless you, too, have been afflicted with dog-fear. It was awful. And I hated the brute so. I could have torn him limb from limb if I had had the strength. But he was vastly more powerful than I. I could only fear him.

“By and by he got up and shook himself. I cowered on my cracker-tin, but he only looked at me contemptuously, went to the other end of the raft, and lay down to wait patiently for deliverance.

“We remained this way until nightfall. The sea was comparatively calm, and we seemed to be drifting but slowly. We were in the path of ships likely to be passing one way or the other, and I would have been hopeful of the outcome if it had not been for my feared and hated companion.

“I began to feel faint, and opened the cracker-tin. The biscuits were wet with salt water, but I ate a couple, and left the cover of the tin open to dry them. Gulliver looked around, and I shut the tin hastily. But the dog never moved. He was not disposed to ask any favors. By kicking the sides of the cask and prying with my knife, I managed to get the bung out and took a drink. Then I settled myself on the raft with my back against the cask, and longed for a smoke.

“The gentle motion of the raft produced a lulling effect on my exhausted nerves, and I began to nod, only to awake with a start, with fear gripping at my heart. I dared not sleep. I don’t know what I thought Gulliver would do to me, for I did not understand dogs, but I felt that I must watch him constantly. In the starlight I could see that his eyes were open. Gulliver was watchful too.

“All night long I kept up a running fight with drowsiness. I dozed at intervals, but never for long at a time. It was a horrible night, and I cannot tell you how I longed for day and welcomed it when it came.

“I must have slept toward dawn, for I suddenly became conscious of broad daylight. I roused myself, stood up, and swung my arms and legs to stir up circulation, for the night had been chilly. Gulliver arose, too, and stood silently watching me until I ceased for fear. When he had settled down again I got my breakfast out of the cracker-tin. Gulliver was restless, and was evidently interested.

“‘He must be hungry,’ I thought, and then a new fear caught me. I had only to wait until he became very hungry and then he would surely attack me. I concluded that it would be wiser to feed him, and I tossed him a biscuit.

“I expected to see him grab it ravenously, and wondered as soon as I had thrown it if the taste of food would only serve to make him more ferocious. But at first he would not touch it. He only lay there with his great head on his paws and glowered at me. Distrust was plainly visible in his face. I had never realized before that a dog’s face could express the subtler emotions.

“His gaze fascinated me, and I could not take my eyes from his. The bulk of him was tremendous as he lay there, and I noticed the big, swelling muscles of his jaw. At last he arose, sniffed suspiciously at the biscuit, and looked up at me again.

“‘It’s all right; eat it!’ I cried.

“The sound of my own voice frightened me. I had not intended to speak to him. But in spite of my strained tone he seemed somewhat reassured.

“He took a little nibble, and then swallowed the biscuit after one or two crunches, and looked up expectantly. I threw him another and he ate that.

“‘That’s all,’ said I. ‘We must be sparing of them.’

“I was amazed to discover how perfectly he understood. He lay down again and licked his chops.

“Late in the forenoon I saw a line of smoke on the horizon, and soon a steamer hove into view. I stood up and waved my coat frantically, but to no purpose. Gulliver stood up and looked from me to the steamer, apparently much interested.

“‘Too far off,’ I said to Gulliver. ‘I hope the next one will come nearer.’

“At midday I dined, and fed Gulliver. This time he took the two biscuits quite without reserve and whacked his great tail against the raft. It seemed to me that his attitude was less hostile, and I wondered at it.

“When I took my drink from the cask, Gulliver showed signs of interest.

“‘I suppose dogs get thirsty, too,’ I said aloud.

“Gulliver rapped with his tail. I looked about for some sort of receptacle, and finally pulled off my shoe, filled it with water, and shoved it toward him with my foot. He drank gratefully.

“During the afternoon I sighted another ship, but it was too distant to notice me. However, the sea remained calm and I did not despair.

“After we had had supper, I settled back against my cask, resolved to keep awake, for still I did not trust Gulliver. The sun set suddenly and the stars came out, and I found myself strangely lonesome. It seemed as though I had been alone out there on the Pacific for weeks. The miles and miles of heaving waters, almost on a level with my eye, were beginning to get on my nerves. I longed for some one to talk to, and wished I had dragged the half-breed cook along with me for company. I sighed loudly, and Gulliver raised his head.

“‘Lonesome out here, isn’t it?’ I said, simply to hear the sound of my own voice.

“Then for the first time Gulliver spoke. He made a deep sound in his throat, but it wasn’t a growl, and with all my ignorance of dog language I knew it.

“Then I began to talk. I talked about everything—the people back home and all that—and Gulliver listened. I know more about dogs now, and I know that the best way to make friends with a dog is to talk to him. He can’t talk back, but he can understand a heap more than you think he can.

“Finally Gulliver, who had kept his distance all this time, arose and came toward me. My words died in my throat. What was he going to do? To my immense relief he did nothing but sink down at my feet with a grunt and curl his huge body into a semicircle. He had dignity, Gulliver had. He wanted to be friendly, but he would not presume. However, I had lost interest in conversation, and sat watching him and wondering.

“In spite of my firm resolution, I fell asleep at length from sheer exhaustion, and never woke until daybreak. The sky was clouded and our craft was pitching. Gulliver was standing in the middle of the raft, looking at me in evident alarm. I glanced over my shoulder, and the blackness of the horizon told me that a storm was coming, and coming soon.

“I made fast our slender provender, tied the end of a line about my own waist for safety, and waited.

“In a short time the storm struck us in all its tropical fury. The raft pitched and tossed, now high up at one end, and now at the other, and sometimes almost engulfed in the waves.

“Gulliver was having a desperate time to keep aboard. His blunt claws slipped on the wet deck of the raft, and he fell and slid about dangerously. The thought flashed across my mind that the storm might prove to be a blessing in disguise, and that I might soon be rid of the brute.

“As I clung there to the lashings, I saw him slip down to the further end of the raft, his hind quarters actually over the edge. A wave swept over him, but still he clung, panting madly. Then the raft righted itself for a moment, and as he hung there he gave me a look I shall never forget—a look of fear, of pleading, of reproach, and yet of silent courage. And with all my stupidity I read that look. Somehow it told me that I was the master, after all, and he the dog. I could not resist it. Cautiously I raised myself and loosened the spare rope I had saved. As the raft tipped the other way Gulliver regained his footing and came sliding toward me.

“Quickly I passed the rope around his body, and as the raft dived again I hung on to the rope with one hand, retaining my own hold with the other. Gulliver’s great weight nearly pulled my arm from its socket, but he helped mightily, and during the next moment of equilibrium I took another turn about his body and made the end of the rope fast.

“The storm passed as swiftly as it had come, and though it left us drenched and exhausted, we were both safe.

“That evening Gulliver crept close to me as I talked, and I let him. Loneliness will make a man do strange things.

“On the fifth day, when our provisions were nearly gone, and I had begun to feel the sinking dullness of despair, I sighted a steamer apparently coming directly toward us. Instantly I felt new life in my limbs and around my heart, and while the boat was yet miles away I began to shout and to wave my coat.

“‘I believe she’s coming, old man!’ I cried to Gulliver; ‘I believe she’s coming!’

“I soon wearied of this foolishness and sat down to wait. Gulliver came close and sat beside me, and for the first time I put my hand on him. He looked up at me and rapped furiously with his tail. I patted his head—a little gingerly, I must confess.

“It was a big, smooth head, and it felt solid and strong. I passed my hand down his neck, his back, his flanks. He seemed to quiver with joy. He leaned his huge body against me. Then he bowed his head and licked my shoe.

“A feeling of intense shame and unworthiness came over me, with the realization of how completely I had misunderstood him. Why should this great, powerful creature lick my shoe? It was incredible.

“Then, somehow, everything changed. Fear and distrust left me, and a feeling of comradeship and understanding took their place. We two had been through so much together. A dog was no longer a frightful beast to me; he was a dog! I cannot think of a nobler word. And Gulliver had licked my shoe! Doubtless it was only the fineness of his perception that had prevented him from licking my hand. I might have resented that. I put my arms suddenly around Gulliver’s neck and hugged him. I loved that dog!

“Slowly, slowly, the steamer crawled along, but still she kept to her course. When she was about a mile away, however, I saw that she would not pass as near to us as I had hoped; so I began once more my waving and yelling. She came nearer, nearer, but still showed no sign of observing us.

“She was abreast of us and passing. I was in a frenzy!

“She was so near that I could make out the figure of the captain on the bridge, and other figures on the deck below. It seemed as though they must see us, though I realized how low in the water we stood, and how pitifully weak and hoarse my voice was. I had been a fool to waste it. Then an idea struck me.

“‘Speak!’ I cried to Gulliver, who stood watching beside me. ‘Speak, old man!’

“Gulliver needed no second bidding. A roar like that of all the bulls of Bashan rolled out over the blue Pacific. Again and again Gulliver gave voice, deep, full, powerful. His great sides heaved with the mighty effort, his red, cavernous mouth open, and his head raised high.

“‘Good, old man!’ I cried. ‘Good!’ And again that magnificent voice boomed forth.

“Then something happened on board the steamer. The figures came to the side. I waved my coat and danced. Then they saw us.

“I was pretty well done up when they took us aboard, and I slept for twenty-four hours straight. When I awoke there sat Gulliver by my bunk, and when I turned to look at him he lifted a great paw and put it on my arm.”

Enderby ceased, and there was silence in the room save for the light snoring of Nubbins.

“You took him home with you, I suppose?” I asked.

Enderby nodded.

“And you have him still?” I certainly wanted to have a look at that dog.

But he did not answer. I saw an expression of great sadness come into his eyes as he gazed out of the window, and I knew that Jacob Enderby had finished his story.

SONNY’S SCHOOLIN’ By RUTH McENERY STUART

A Monologue

WELL, sir, we’re tryin’ to edjercate him—good ez we can. Th’ ain’t never been a edjercational advantage come in reach of us but we’ve give it to him. Of co’se he’s all we’ve got, that one boy is, an’ wife an’ me, why, we feel the same way about it.

They’s three schools in the county, an’ we send him to all three.

Sir? Oh, yas, sir; he b’longs to all three schools—to _fo’_, for that matter, countin’ the home school.

You see, Sonny he’s purty ticklish to handle, an’ a person has to know thess how to tackle him. Even wife an’ me, thet’s been knowin’ him f’om the beginnin’, not only knowin’ his traits, but how he _come_ by ’em,—though some is hard to trace to their so’ces,—why, sir, even we have to study sometimes to keep in with him, an’ of co’se a teacher—why, it’s thess hit an’ miss whether he’ll take the right tack with him or not; an’ sometimes one teacher’ll strike it one day, an’ another nex’ day; so by payin’ schoolin’ for him right along in all three, why, of co’se, ef he don’t feel like goin’ to one, why, he’ll go to another.

Once-t in a while he’ll git out with the whole of ’em, an’ that was how wife come to open the home school for him. She was determined his edjercation shouldn’t be interrupted ef she could help it. She don’t encour’ge him much to go to her school, though, ’cause it interrupts her in her housekeepin’ consider’ble, an’ she’s had extry quilt-patchin’ on hand ever since he come. She’s patchin’ him a set ’ginst the time he’ll marry.

An’ then I reckon he frets her a good deal in school. Somehow, seems like he thess picks up enough in the other schools to be able to conterdic’ her ways o’ teachin’.

F’ instance, in addin’ up a colume o’ figgers, ef she comes to a aught—which some calls ’em naughts—she’ll say, “Aught’s a aught,” an’ Sonny ain’t been learned to say it that a-way; an’ so maybe when she says, “Aught’s a aught,” he’ll say, “Who said it wasn’t?” an’ that puts her out in countin’.

He’s been learned to thess pass over aughts an’ not call their names; and once-t or twice-t, when wife called ’em out that a-way, why, he got so fretted he thess gethered up his things an’ went to another school. But seem like she’s added aughts that a-way so long she can’t think to add ’em no other way.

I notice nights after she’s kept school for Sonny all day she talks consider’ble in her sleep, an’ she says, “Aught’s a aught” about ez often ez she says anything else.

Oh, yas, sir; he’s had consider’ble fusses with his teachers, one way an’ another, but they ever’ one declare they think a heap of ’im.

Sir? Oh, yas, sir; of co’se they all draw their reg’lar pay whether he’s a day in school du’in’ the month or not. That’s right enough, ’cause you see they don’t know what day he’s li’ble to drop in on ’em, an’ it’s worth the money thess a-keepin’ their nerves strung for ’im.

Well, yas, sir; ’t is toler’ble expensive, lookin’ at it one way, but lookin’ at it another, it don’t cost no mo’ ’n what it would to edjercate three child’en, which many poor families have to do—_an’ more_—which in our united mind Sonny’s worth ’em all.

Yas, sir; ’t is confusin’ to him in some ways, goin’ to all three schools at once-t.

F’ instance, Miss Alviry Sawyer, which she’s a single-handed maiden lady ’bout wife’s age, why, of co’se, she teaches accordin’ to the old rules; an’ in learnin’ the child’en subtraction, f’ instance, she’ll tell ’em, ef they run short to borry one f’om the nex’ lef’ han’ top figur’, an’ pay it back to the feller underneath him.