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FUTILITY

BMSM
MORGAN ROBERTSON
 AETTER
/SCIENCE
ARTS
AGRICULTURE
KNOWLEDGE

THE
OHIO STATE
UNIVERSITY
LIBRARIES
 6-

WILLIAM CHARVAT
American Fiction Collection

The Ohio State University Libraries

 FUTILITY

BY MORGAN ROBERTSON
 FUTILITY

BY MORGAN ROBERTSON

AUTHOR OF SPUN 1 YARN

ρστυα

BYO
Κάδμος

NEW YORK : M. F. MANSFIELD

22 EAST SIXTEENTH STREET
COPYRIGHT 1898
BY
M. F. MANSFIELD
Futility .

HE was the largest craft afloat and

the greatest of the works of men.

In her construction and maintenance

were involved every science , profession

and trade known to civilization. On her
bridge were officers, who, beside being
the pick of the Royal Navy, had passed
rigid examinations in all studies that per-
tained to the winds, tides, currents and
geography of the sea ; they were not only
seamen, but scientists . The same profes-
sional standard applied to the personnel
of the engine-room, and the steward's de-
partment was equal to that of a first-class
hotel.
Two brass bands , two orchestras and a
theatrical company entertained the pas-
sengers during waking hours ; a corps
of physicians administered to the tem-
2 Futility.

poral, and a corps of chaplains to the

spiritual welfare of all on board , while a
well-drilled fire-company soothed the
fears of nervous ones and added to the
general entertainment by daily practice
with their apparatus .
From her lofty bridge ran hidden tele-
graph lines to the bow, stern, engine-
room , crow's-nest on the foremast, and
to all parts of the ship where work was
done, each wire terminating in a
marked dial with a movable indicator,
containing in its scope every order and
answer required in handling the mas-
sive hulk, either at the dock or at sea -
which eliminated, to a great extent, the
hoarse, nerve-racking shouts of officers
and sailors.
From the bridge, engine-room and a
dozen places on her deck the ninety-two
doors of nineteen water-tight compart-
ments could be closed in half a minute
by turning a lever. These doors would
Futility. 3

also close automatically in the presence

of water. With nine compartments

flooded the ship would still float, and ast

no known accident of the sea could pos-
sibly fill this many, the steamship "Titan"
was considered practically unsinkable.
Built of steel throughout, and for pas-
senger traffic only, she carried no com-
bustible cargo to threaten her destruc-
tion by fire ; and the immunity from the
demand for cargo space had enabled her
designers to discard the flat, kettle-
bottom of cargo boats and give her the
sharp dead-rise- or slant from the keel
-
of a steam yacht, and this improved
her behavior in a sea-way. She was

eight hundred feet long, of forty-five

thousand tons' displacement, forty thou-
sand horse-power, and on her trial trip
had steamed at a rate of twenty-five
knots an hour over the bottom , in the
face of unconsidered winds , tides and
currents. In short, she was a floating
4 Futility.

city - containing within her steel walls

all that tends to minimize the dangers
and discomforts of the Atlantic voyage
-all that makes life enjoyable.
Unsinkable indestructible, she car-
ried as few boats as would satisfy the
laws. These, twenty-four in number,
were securely covered and lashed down
to their chocks on the upper deck, and
if launched would hold five hundred
people. She carried no useless , cumber-
some life-rafts ; but — because the law
required it each of the three thousand
berths in the passengers', officers' and
crew's quarters contained a cork jacket,
while about twenty circular life-buoys
were strewn along the rails.
In view of her absolute superiority to
other craft, a rule of navigation thor-
oughly believed in by some captains , but
not yet openly followed, was announced
by the steamship company to apply to
the "Titan": She would steam at full
Futility. 5

speed in fog, storm and sunshine, and on

the Northern Lane Route, winter and
summer, for the following good and sub-
stantial reasons : first, that if another
craft should strike her, the force of the
impact would be distributed over a
larger area if the "Titan" had full head-
way, and the brunt of the damage would
be borne by the other. Second, that if
the "Titan" was the aggressor she would
certainly destroy the other craft, even at
half-speed, and perhaps damage her own
bows ; while at full speed, she would cut
her in two with no more damage to her-
self than a paint-brush could remedy.
In either case, as the lesser of two evils,
it was best that the smaller hull should
suffer. A third reason was, that at full
speed she could be more easily steered
out of danger, and a fourth, that in case
of an end-on collision with an ice-berg
-the only thing afloat that she could
not conquer - her bows would be
6 Futility.

crushed in but a few feet further at full

than at half speed , and at the most, three
compartments would be flooded ―
which would not matter with six more
to spare.
So, it was confidently expected that
when her engines had limbered them-
selves, the steamship "Titan" would land
her passengers three thousand miles.
away with the promptitude and regu-
larity of a railway train. She had beaten
all records on her maiden voyage, but,
up to the third return trip , had not
lowered the time between Sandy Hook
and Daunt's Rock to the five day limit ;
and it was unofficially rumored among
the two thousand passengers who had
embarked at New York that an effort
would now be made to do so.
 CHAPTER II.

Eight tugs dragged the great mass to

midstream and pointed her nose down
the river ; then the pilot on the bridge
spoke a word or two ; the first officer blew
.
a short blast on the whistle and turned a
lever ; the tugs gathered in their lines
and drew off ; down in the bowels of the
ship, three small engines were started,
opening the throttles of three large ones ;
three propellers began to revolve ; and
the mammoth , with a vibratory tremble
running through her great frame, moved
slowly to sea.
East of Sandy Hook the pilot was
dropped and the real voyage begun.
Fifty feet below her deck, in an inferno
of noise, and heat, and light, and
shadow, coal-passers wheeled the picked
fuel from the bunkers to the fire-hold,
where half-naked stokers, with faces like
8 Futility.

those of tortured fiends , tossed it into

the eighty white-hot mouths of the
furnaces. In the engine-room , oilers
passed to and fro, in and out of the
plunging, twisting, glistening steel, with
oil-cans and waste , overseen by the
watchful staff on duty, who listened with
strained hearing for a false note in the
confused jumble of sound - a clicking
of steel out of tune, which would indi-
cate a loosened key or nut. On deck,
sailors set the triangular sails on the two
masts, to add their propulsion to the
momentum of the record-breaker, and
the passengers dispersed themselves as
suited their several tastes . Some were
seated in steamer chairs, well wrapped
-for, though it was April , the salt air
was chilly - some paced the deck, ac-
quiring their sea legs ; others listened to
the orchestra in the music-room, or read
or wrote in the library, and a few took
to their berths sea-sick from the slight
Futility. 9

heave of the ship on the ground- swell .

The decks were cleared, watches set
at noon, and then began the never-
ending cleaning-up at which steamship
sailors put in so much of their time.
Headed by a six-foot boatswain, a gang
came aft on the starboard side, with
paint-buckets and brushes, and dis-
tributed themselves along the rail .
"Davits an' stanchions, men never
mind the rail," said the boatswain.
"Ladies, better move your chairs back a
little. Rowland, climb down out o'
that you'll be overboard. Take a ven-
tilator no, you'll spill paint -- put
your bucket away an' get some sand-
paper from the yeoman . Work inboard
till you get it out o' you."
The sailor addressed - a slight-built
man of about thirty, black-bearded and
bronzed to the semblance of healthy
vigor, but watery-eyed and unsteady of
movement - came down from the rail
IO Futility.

and shambled forward with his bucket.

As he reached the group of ladies to
whom the boatswain had spoken , his
gaze rested on one - a sunny-haired
young woman with the blue of the sea
in her eyes--- who had arisen at his ap-
proach . He started , turned aside as if
to avoid her, and raising his hand in an
embarrassed half - salute , passed on . Out
of the boatswain's sight he leaned against
the deck -house and panted , while he held
his hand to his breast .
"What is it ?" he muttered, wearily;
"whiskey nerves, or the dying flutter of
a starved love. Five years, now — and
a look from her eyes can stop the blood
in my veins can bring back all the
heart-hunger and helplessness, that leads
a man to insanity or this." He looked
at his trembling hand, all seamed and
tar-stained, passed on forward and re-
turned with the sand-paper.

The young woman had been equally

Futility. II

affected by the meeting. An expression

of mingled surprise and terror had come
to her pretty, but rather weak face ; and
without acknowledging his half salute ,
she had caught up a little child from the
deck behind her, and turning into the
saloon door, hurried to the library, where
she sank into a chair beside a military-
looking gentleman, who glanced up
from a book and remarked : "Seen the
sea-serpent, Myra, or the Flying Dutch-
man? What's up?"
"Oh, George - no," she answered in
agitated tones. "John Rowland is here
- Lieutenant Rowland. I've just seen.
him he is so changed- he tried to
speak to me."
"Who that troublesome flame of
yours? I never met him, you know, and
you haven't told me much about him.
What is he ― first cabin?"
"No, he seems to be a common sailor ;
he is working, and is dressed in old
12 Futility.

clothes -all dirt. And such a dissi-

pated face, too . He seems to have fallen
so low. And it is all since —"

"Since you soured on him? Well, it

is no fault of yours, dear. If a man has
it in him he'll go to the dogs anyhow.
How is his sense of injury ? Has he a
grievance or a grudge ? You're badly
upset. What did he say?"
"I don't know - he said nothing-
I've always been afraid of him. I've met
him three times since then, and he puts
-
such a frightful look in his eyes and
he was so violent, and headstrong, and
so terribly angry, that time. He ac-
cused me of leading him on, and playing
with him ; and he said something about
an immutable law of chance, and a gov-

erning balance of events — - that

that I
couldn't understand, only where he said
.
that for all the suffering we inflict on
others, we receive an equal amount our-
selves. Then he went away in such a
Futility. 13

passion. I've imagined ever since that

he would take some revenge he might
steal Our Myra - our baby." She

strained the smiling child to her breast

and went on. "I liked him at first, until
I found out that he was an atheist -
why, George, he actually denied the ex-
istence of God - and to me, a professing
Christian."
"He had a wonderful nerve ," said the
husband with a smile ; " didn't know you
very well, I should say."
"He never seemed the same to me
after that," she resumed ; "I felt as
though in the presence of something
unclean. Yet I thought how glorious
it would be if I could save him to God,
and tried to convince him of the loving
care of Jesus ; but he only ridiculed all
I hold sacred, and said, that much as he
valued my good opinion , he would not
be a hypocrite to gain it, and that he
would be honest with himself and others,
14 Futility .

and express his honest unbelief — the

idea : as though one could be honest
without God's help - and then, one day,
I smelled liquor on his breath — he
always smelled of tobacco - and I gave
him up. It was then that he ― that he
broke out."
"Come out and show me this repro-
bate," said the husband , rising. They
went to the door and the young woman
peered out. "He is the last man down
there close to the cabin," she said as
she drew in. The husband stepped out.
"What ! that hang-dog ruffian, scour-
ing the ventilator ? So , that's Rowland ,
of the navy, is it ? Well, this is a tumble.
Wasn't he broken for conduct unbecom-
ing an officer? Got roaring drunk at
the President's levee, didn't he? I think
I read of it."
"I know he lost his position and was
terribly disgraced," answered the wife.
"Well, Myra, the poor devil is harm-
Futility. 15

less now. We'll be across in a few days,

and you needn't meet him on this broad
deck. If he hasn't lost all sensibility,
he's as embarrassed as you . Better stay
in now it's getting foggy."
 CHAPTER III.

When the watch turned out at mid-

night, they found a vicious half-gale
blowing from the north-east, which,
added to the speed of the steamship ,
made, so far as effects on her deck went,
a fairly uncomfortable whole gale of
chilly wind. The head sea, choppy as
compared with her great length, dealt
the "Titan" successive blows , each one
attended by supplementary tremors to
the continuous vibrations of the engines
- each one sending a cloud of thick
spray aloft that reached the crow's- nest
on the foremast and battered the pilot-
house windows on the bridge in a liquid
bombardment that would have broken
ordinary glass. A fog-bank, into which
the ship had plunged in the afternoon,
still enveloped her - damp and impene-
trable ; and into the gray, ever-receding
Futility. 17

wall ahead, with two deck officers and

three lookouts straining sight and hear-
ing to the utmost, the great racer was
charging with undiminished speed.
At a quarter past twelve, two men
crawled in from the darkness at the ends
of the eighty-foot bridge and shouted to
the first officer, who had just taken the
deck, the names of the men who had re-
lieved them. Backing up to the pilot-
house, the officer repeated the names to
a quarter-master within, who entered
them in the log-book. Then the men
vanished to their coffee and "watch-
below." In a few moments another drip-
ping shape appeared on the bridge and
reported the crow's- nest relief.
"Rowland, you say?" bawled the
officer above the howling of the wind.
"Is he the man who was lifted aboard,
drunk, yesterday?”
"Yes, sir."
"Is he straight now?"
18 Futility.

"Yes , sir."
"All right ―― that'll do. Enter Row-
land in the crow's-nest, Quarter-master,"
said the officer ; then, making a funnel
of his hands , he roared out : "Crow's-
nest, there."
"Sir," came the answer, shrill and clear
on the gale.
"Keep your eyes open - keep a sharp
lookout. "

"Very good, sir."

"Been a man-o'-war's-man, I judge,
by his answer. They're no good ,” mut-
tered the officer. He resumed his posi-
tion at the forward side of the bridge
where the wooden railing afforded some
shelter from the raw wind, and began the
long vigil which would only end when
the second officer relieved him, four
hours later. Conversation - except in
the line of duty was forbidden among
the bridge officers of the "Titan," and
his watch-mate, the third officer, stood
Futility. 19

on the other side of the large bridge bin-

nacle, only leaving this position occa-
sionally to glance in at the compass-
which seemed to be his sole duty at sea.
Sheltered by one of the deck-houses be-
low, the boatswain and the watch paced
back and forth, enjoying the only two
hours respite which steamship rules
afforded, for the day's work had ended
with the going down of the other watch ,
and at two o'clock the washing of the
'tween-deck would begin , as an opening
task in the next day's labor.
By the time one bell had sounded, with
its repetition from the crow's-nest, fol-
lowed by a long-drawn cry- "all's-
well" from the lookouts, the last of the
two thousand passengers had retired ,
leaving the spacious cabins and steerage
in possession of the watchmen ; while,
sound asleep in his cabin abaft the chart-
room was the captain, the commander
who never commanded unless the ship
20 Futility.

was in danger ; for the pilot had charge,

making and leaving port, and the
officers , at sea.
Two bells were struck and answered ;
then three, and the boatswain and his
men were lighting up for a final smoke,
when there rang out overhead, a startling
cry from the crow's- nest :
"Something ahead, sir— can't make
it out."
The first officer sprang to the engine-
room telegraph and grasped the lever.
"Sing out what you see," he roared.
"Hard-a-port, sir - ship on the star-
board tack - dead ahead," came the
cry.
"Port your wheel hard over," re-
peated the first officer to the quarter-
master at the helm - who answered
and obeyed. Nothing as yet could be
seen from the bridge. The powerful
steering-engine in the stern ground the
rudder over ; but before three degrees on
Futility. 21

the compass card were traversed by the

lubbers'-point, a seeming thickening of
the darkness and fog ahead resolved
itself into the square sails of a deep-laden
ship, crossing the "Titan's" bow, not
half her length away.
"H-1 and D-" growled the first
officer. "Steady on your course, Quar-
termaster," he shouted. "Stand from
under on deck." He turned a lever
which closed compartments, pushed a
button marked- "Captain's Room,"
and crouched down, awaiting the crash.
There was hardly a crash. A slight jar
shook the forward end of the "Titan"
and sliding down her fore topmast stay
and rattling on deck came a shower of
small spars, sails, blocks and wire rope.
Then, in the darkness to starboard and
port, two darker shapes shot by - the
two halves of the ship she had cut
through ; and from one of these shapes,
where still burned a binnacle light, was
22 Futility.

heard, high above the confused murmur

of shouts and shrieks , a sailorly voice :
"May the curse of God light on you
and your cheese-knife, you brass -bound
murderers."
The shapes were swallowed in the
blackness astern ; the cries were hushed
by the clamor of the gale, and the steam-
ship "Titan" swung back to her course .
The first officer had not turned the lever
of the engine-room telegraph.
The boatswain bounded up the steps.
of the bridge for instructions.
"Put men at the hatches and doors.
Send every one who comes on deck to
the chart-room. Tell the watchman to
notice what the passengers have learned,
and clear away that wreck forward as
soon as possible." The voice of the
officer was hoarse and strained as he

gave these directions, and the "aye, aye,

sir" of the boatswain was uttered in a
gasp .
 CHAPTER IV .

The crow's-nest "lookout," sixty feet

above the deck, had seen every detail of
the horror, from the moment when the
upper sails of the doomed ship had ap-
peared to him above the fog, to the time
when the last tangle of wreckage was cut
away by his watchmates below. When
relieved at four bells, he descended with
as little strength in his limbs as was com-
patible with safety in the rigging. At
the rail, the boatswain met him.
"Report your relief, Rowland," he
said, "and go into the chart-room !"
On the bridge, as he gave the name of
his successor, the first officer seized his

hand, pressed it, and repeated the boat-

swain's order. In the chart-room, he
found the captain of the "Titan," pale-
faced and intense in manner, seated at a
table, and, grouped around him, the
24 Futility.

whole of the watch on deck except the

officers, lookouts and quarter-masters.
The cabin watchmen were there, and
some of the watch below, among whom
were stokers and coal-passers, and also,
a few of the idlers - lampmen, yeomen
and butchers, who, sleeping forward, had
been awakened by the terrific blow of
the great hollow knife within which
they lived.
Three carpenter's mates stood by the
door, with sounding-rods in their hands,
which they had just shown the captain
dry. Every face, from the captain's
down, wore a look of horror and ex-
pectancy. A quarter-master followed
Rowland in and said :

"Engineer felt no jar in the engine-

room, sir ; and there's no excitement in
the stoke-hold."
"And you watchmen report no alarm
in the cabins. How about the steerage?
Is that man back?" asked the captain.
Futility. 25

Another watchman appeared as he

spoke.
"All asleep in the steerage, sir," he
said. Then a quarter-master entered
with the same report of the forecastles .
"Very well," said the captain , rising ;
"one by one come into my office
watchmen first, then petty officers, then
the men. Quarter-masters will watch
the door that no man goes out until
I have seen him." He passed into
another room, followed by a watchman ,
who presently emerged and went on
deck with a more pleasant expression of
face. Another entered and came out ;
then another , and another, until every
man but Rowland had been within the
sacred precincts , all to wear the same
pleased , or satisfied , look on reappear-
ing. When Rowland entered, the cap-
tain, seated at a desk, motioned him to
a chair and asked his name.
"John Rowland," he answered. The
captain wrote it down.
 26
Futility.

"I understand," he said, " that you

were in the crow's- nest when this un-
fortunate collision occurred."

“Yes , sir ; and I reported the ship as

soon as I saw her."
"You are not here to be censured.
You are aware , of course , that nothing
could be done, either to avert this terri-
ble calamity, or to save life afterward .”
"Nothing at a speed of twenty -five
knots an hour in a thick fog , sir .” The
captain glanced sharply at Rowland and
frowned.

"We will not discuss the speed of the

ship, my good man ," he said, “or the
rules of the company. You will find,
when you are paid at Liverpool, a pack-
age addressed to you at the company's
office containing one hundred pounds in
bank-notes. This, you will receive for
your silence in regard to this collision --
the reporting of which would embarrass
the company and help no one.”
Futility. 27

"On the contrary , Captain, I shall not

receive it. On the contrary, sir, I shall
speak of this wholesale murder at the
first opportunity !"
The captain leaned back and stared at
the debauched face and trembling figure
of the sailor, with which this defiant
speech so little accorded. Under ordi-
nary circumstances, he would have sent
him on deck to be dealt with by the offi-
cers. But this was not an ordinary cir-
cumstance. In the watery eyes was a
look of shock , and horror, and honest in-
dignation ; the accents were those of an
educated man ; and the consequences
hanging over himself and the company
for which he worked -
— already compli-
cated by and involved in his efforts to
avoid them — which this man might pre-
cipitate, were so extreme, that such
questions as insolence and difference in
rank were not to be thought of. He
must meet and subdue this Tartar on
common ground as man to man.
28
Futility .

"Are you aware, Rowland," he asked

quietly, "that you will stand alone - that
you will be discredited , lose your berth
and make enemies ?"

"I am aware of more than that,” an-

swered Rowland excitedly. "I know of
the power vested in you as captain . I
know that you can order me into irons
from this room for any offence you wish

to imagine. And I know that an unwit-

nessed , uncorroborated entry in your of-

ficial log concerning me would be evi-

dence enough to bring me life imprison-
ment. But I also know something of
Admiralty law ; that from my prison cell
I can send you and your first officer to
the gallows ."
"You are mistaken in your concep-
tions of evidence . I could not cause

your conviction by a log-book entry ;

nor could you, from a prison , injure me.
What are you, may I ask- an ex-law-
yer?"
Futility. 29

"A graduate of Annapolis. Your

equal in professional technique. "
"And you have interest at Washing-
ton ?"
"None whatever."
"And what is your object in taking
this stand - which can do you no possi-
ble good, though certainly not the harm
you speak of."
"That I may do one good, strong act
in my useless life that I may help to
arouse such a sentiment of anger in the
two countries as will forever end this
wanton destruction of life and property
for the sake of speed- that will save the
hundreds of fishing -craft, and others, run
down yearly, to their owners , and the
crews to their families."

Both men had arisen and the captain

was pacing the floor as Rowland, with
flashing eyes and clenched fists, deliv-
ered this declaration .
"A result to be hoped for, Rowland,"
30 Futility.

said the former, pausing before him,

"but beyond your power or mine to ac-
complish. Is the amount I named large
enough? Could you fill a position on
my bridge ?"
"I can fill a higher ; and your company
is not rich enough to buy me."
"You seem to be a man without ambi-
tion ; but you must have wants."
"Food, clothing, shelter — and whis-
ky," said Rowland with a bitter, self-
contemptuous laugh. The captain
reached down a decanter and two glasses
from a swinging tray and said as he
placed them before him:
"Here is one of your wants. Fill up.

Rowland's eyes glistened as he poured

out a glassful, and the captain followed.
"I will drink with you , Rowland ,” he
said ; "here is to our better understand-
ing." He tossed off the liquor ; then
Rowland, who had waited, said : " I pre-
fer drinking alone, Captain," and drank
Futility. 31

the whisky at a gulp . The captain's

face flushed at the affront , but he con-
trolled himself.
"Go on deck, now, Rowland ," he said ;
"I will talk with you again before we
reach soundings. Meanwhile, I request
-not require, but request - that you
hold no useless conversation with your
shipmates in regard to this matter."
To his first officer, when relieved at
eight bells, the captain said : "He is a
broken-down wreck with a temporarily
active conscience ; but is not the man to
buy or intimidate : he knows too much.
However, we've found his weak point.
If he gets snakes before we dock , his tes-
timony is worthless . Fill him up and
. I'll see the surgeon , and study up on
drugs ."
When Rowland turned out to break-
fast at seven bells that morning, he
found a pint flask in the pocket of his
pea-jacket, which he felt of but did not
pull out in sight of his watchmates.
32 Futility.

"Well, Captain," he thought, "you are,

in truth, about as puerile, insipid a
scoundrel as ever escaped the law. I'll
save you your drugged dutch- courage
for evidence." But it was not drugged,
as he learned later. It was good whis-
ky ― a leader - to warm his stomach
while the captain was studying .
 CHAPTER V.

An incident occurred that morning

which drew Rowland's thoughts far from
the happenings of the night. A few
hours of bright sunshine had brought
the passengers on deck like bees from a
hive, and the two broad promenades re-
sembled, in color and life , the streets of
a city. The watch was busy at the in-
evitable scrubbing, and Rowland, with a
swab and bucket , was cleaning the white
paint on the starboard taff-rail, screened
from view by the after deck-house ,
which shut off a narrow space at the
stern. A little girl ran into the inclo-

sure, laughing and screaming, and clung

to his legs, while she jumped up and
down in an over-flow of spirits.
"I wunned ' way," she said ; "I wunned
.
'way from Mamma."
Drying his wet hands on his trousers,
34 Futility.

Rowland lifted the tot and said, tenderly :

"Well, little one, you must run back to

Mamma . You're in bad company ."

The innocent eyes smiled into his own,

-
and then a foolish proceeding , which
only bachelors are guilty of- he held
her above the rail in jesting menace.
"Shall I drop you over to the fishes,
Baby?" he asked , while his features soft-
ened to an unwonted smile. The child
gave a little scream of fright, and at that
instant a young woman appeared around
the corner. She sprang toward Row-

land like a tigress, snatched the child ,

stared at him for a moment with dilated
eyes, and then disappeared , leaving him
limp and nerveless - breathing hard.
"It is her child," he groaned. "That
was the mother-look. She is married-
married." He resumed his work, with
a face as near the color of the paint he
was scrubbing as the tanned skin of a
sailor may become.
Futility. 35

Ten minutes later, the captain, in his

office, was listening to a complaint from
a very excited man and woman.
"And you say, Colonel, " said the cap-
tain , "that this man Rowland is an old
enemy?"
"He is -or was once a rejected ad-
mirer of Mrs. Selfridge. That is all I
know of him - - except that he has hinted
at revenge. My wife is certain of what
she saw, and I think the man should be
confined."

"Why, Captain," said the woman , ve-

hemently, as she hugged her child , “you
should have seen him ; he was just about
to drop Myra over as I seized her and
he had such a frightful leer on his face ,
too . Oh, it was hideous. I shall not
sleep another wink in this ship - I
know."

"I beg you will give yourself no un-

easiness, Madam," said the captain,
gravely. "I have already learned some-
 lity
36 Futi .

thing of his antecedents that he is a

disgraced and broken-down naval offi-
cer ; but, as he has sailed three voyages
with us, I had credited his willingness to
work before-the-mast to his craving for
liquor, which he could not satisfy with-
out money . However as you think
- he may be following you. Was he
able to learn of your movements that
you were to take passage in this ship ?"
"Why not?" exclaimed the husband ;
"he must know some of Mrs. Selfridge's
friends."

"Yes, yes," she said, eagerly ; "I have

heard him spoken of, several times."
"Then it is clear," said the captain.
"If you will agree, Madam, to testify
against him in the English courts , I will
immediately put him in irons for at-
tempted murder."
"Oh, do, Captain," she exclaimed .
"I cannot feel safe while he is at liberty.
Of course I will testify."
Futility. 37

"Whatever you do, Captain, " said the

husband savagely, "rest assured that I
shall put a bullet through his head if he
meddles with me or mine again. Then
you can put me in irons."
"I will see that he is attended to ,
Colonel," replied the captain as he
bowed them out of his office.
But, as a murder charge is not always
the best way to discredit a man ; and as
the captain did not believe that the man
who had defied him would murder a
child; and as the charge would be diffi-
cult to prove in any case, and would
cause him much trouble and annoyance ,
he did not order the arrest of John Row-
land, but merely directed that, for the
time, he should be kept at work by day
in the 'tween-deck out of sight of the
passengers.
Rowland, surprised at his sudden
transfer from the disagreeable scrubbing
to a "soldiers'-job " of painting life-
38 Futility .

buoys in the warm ' tween-deck , was

shrewd enough to know that he was be-
ing closely watched by the boatswain
that morning, but not shrewd enough to
affect any symptoms of intoxication or
drugging, which might have satisfied his
anxious superiors and brought him more
whisky. As a result of his brighter
eyes and steadier voice . due to the
curative sea air when he turned out

for the first dog-watch on deck at four

o'clock, the captain and boatswain held
an interview in the chart-room, in which
the former said : "Do not be alarmed.

It is not poison. He is half way into the

horrors now, and this will merely bring
them on. He will see snakes, ghosts ,
goblins, ship-wrecks, fire and all sorts.
of things. It works in two or three.
hours. Just drop it into his drinking
pot while the port forecastle is empty."
There was a fight in the port fore-
castle to which Rowland belonged-
Futility. 39

at supper time, which need not be de-

scribed beyond mention of the fact that
Rowland, who was not a participant, had
his pot of tea dashed from his hand be-
fore he had taken three swallows. He
procured a fresh supply and finished his
supper ; then, taking no part in his
watchmates ' open discussion of the fight,
and guarded discussion of collisions ,
rolled into his bunk and smoked until
eight bells, when he turned out with the
rest.
 CHAPTER VI .

"Rowland," said the big boatswain as

the watch mustered on deck ; "take the
starboard bridge lookout."
"It is not my trick, Boats'n," said
Rowland in surprise.
"Orders from the bridge. Get up
there."
Rowland grumbled, as sailors may
when aggrieved, and obeyed. The man
he relieved reported his name and dis-
appeared ; the first officer sauntered
.
down the bridge, uttered the official
"keep a good lookout," and returned to
his post ; then the silence and loneliness
of a night-watch at sea, intensified by the
never-ceasing hum of the engines, and
relieved only by the sounds of distant
music and laughter from the theater, de-
scended on the forward part of the ship.
For the fresh westerly wind, coming
Futility. 4I

with the "Titan ," made nearly a calm on

her deck ; and the dense fog, though
over-shone by a bright star-specked sky,
was so chilly that the last talkative pas-
senger had fled to the light and life
within .

When three bells- half past nine-

had sounded, and Rowland had given in
his turn the required call "all's-well ,"
the first officer left his post and ap-
proached him.
"Rowland," he said as he drew near;
"I hear you've walked the. quarter-
deck."

"I cannot imagine how you learned it,

sir," replied Rowland ; "I am not in the
habit of referring to it."
"You told the captain. I suppose the
curriculum is as complete at Annapolis
as at the Royal Naval College. What
do you think of Maury's theories of cur-
rents?"
"They seem plausible," said Rowland,
42 Futility.

unconsciously dropping the "sir” ; “but

I think that in most particulars he has
been proven wrong."
"Yes, I think so myself. Did you
ever follow up another idea of his - that

of locating the position of ice in a fog by

the rate of decrease in temperature as
approached ?"
"Not to any definite result. But it
seems to be only a matter of calculation ,
and time to calculate. Cold is negative
heat, and can be treated like radiant en-
ergy, decreasing as the square of the dis-
tance."
The officer stood a moment, looking
ahead and humming a tune to himself ;
then, saying : "Yes, that's so," returned
to his place.
"Must have a cast iron stomach," he

muttered as he peered into the binnacle ;

"or else the boatsw'n dosed the wrong
man's pot."
Rowland glanced after the retreating
Futility. 43

officer with a cynical smile . "I won-

der," he said to himself, "why he comes

down here talking navigation to a fore-
mast hand. Why am I up here -- out

of my turn ? Is this something in line.

Iwith that bottle?" He resumed the

short pacing back and forth on the end

of the bridge, and the rather gloomy
train of thought which the officer had in-
terrupted.
"How long," he mused, "would his
ambition, and love of profession last him
after he had met, and won , and lost, the
only woman on earth to him. Why is
it that failure to hold the affections
of one among the millions of women
who live, and love, can outweigh every
blessing in life, and turn a man's nature
into a hell, to consume him? Who did
she marry? Some one, probably, a
stranger long after my banishment, who
came to her possessed of a few qualities
of mind or physique that pleased her, -
44 Futility.

who did not need to love her his

chances were better without that- and

he steps coolly and easily into my

heaven. And they tell us, that "God

doeth all things well," and that there is

a heaven where all our unsatisfied wants
are attended to provided we have the
necessary faith in it. That means, if it
means anything, that after a lifetime of
unrecognized allegiance, during which I
win nothing but her fear and contempt,
I may be rewarded by the love and com-
panionship of her soul. Do I love her
soul ? Has her soul beauty of face and
the figure and carriage of a Venus ? Has
her soul deep, blue eyes and a sweet, mu-
sical voice ? Has it wit, and grace , and
charm ? Has it a wealth of pity for suf-
fering? These are the things I loved.
I do not love her soul , if she has one. I
do not want it. I want her I need
her." He stopped in his walk and

leaned against the bridge railing , with

Futility. 45

eyes fixed on the fog ahead. He was

speaking his thoughts aloud now, and
the first officer drew within hearing, lis-
tened a moment, and went back.
"Working on him," he whispered to the
third officer. Then he pushed the but-
ton which called the captain, blew a
short blast of the steam whistle as a call
to the boatswain , and resumed his watch
on the drugged lookout, while the third
officer conned the ship.
The steam call to the boatswain is so

common a sound on a steamship as to

generally pass unnoticed. This call af-
fected another besides the boatswain.

A little night-gowned figure arose from

an under berth in a saloon state- room ,
and, with wide-open, staring eyes,
groped its way to the deck, unobserved
by the watchman. The white, bare lit-
tle feet felt no cold as they pattered the
planks of the deserted promenade, and
the little figure had reached the steerage
 y
46 Futilit .

entrance by the time the captain and

boatswain had reached the bridge.
"And they talk," went on Rowland,
as the three watched and listened ; "of the
wonderful love and care of a merciful
God, who controls all things who has
given me my defects, and my capacity
for loving, and then placed Myra Gaunt
in my way. Is there mercy to me in
this? As part of a great evolutionary

principle, which develops the race life at

the expense of the individual , it might
be consistent with the idea of a God -
a first cause. But does the individual

who perishes, because unfitted to sur-

vive, owe any love, or gratitude to this
God? He does not ! On the supposi-
tion that he exists, I deny it ! And on
the complete lack of evidence that he
does exist, I affirm to myself the integ-
rity of cause and effect - -which is
enough to explain the Universe, and me.
A merciful God - a kind, loving, just
Futility. 47

and merciful God-" he burst into a fit

of incongruous laughter, which stopped
short as he clapped his hands to his stom-
ach and then to his head. "What ails

me?" he gasped ; "I feel as though I had

swallowed hot coals and my head. -
and my eyes- I can't see." The pain
left him in a moment and the laughter
returned . "What's wrong with the star-
board anchor? It's moving. It's chang-
ing. It's a ― what? What on earth is
it? On end - and the windlass - and
the spare anchors and the davits -
— all
alive all moving."
The sight he saw would have been
horrid to a healthy mind, but it only
moved this man to increased and uncon-
trollable merriment. The two rails be-
low leading to the stem had arisen
before him in a shadowy triangle ; and
within it were the deck-fittings he had
mentioned. The windlass had become a
thing of horror , black and forbidding.
48 Futility.

The two end barrels were the bulging,

lightless eyes of a nondescript monster,
for which the cable chains had multiplied
themselves into innumerable legs and
tentacles. And this thing was crawling
around within the triangle. The anchor-
davits were many-headed serpents which
danced on their tails, and the anchors
themselves writhed and squirmed in the
shape of immense hairy caterpillars ,
while faces appeared on the two white
lantern-towers- grinning and leering
at him. With his hands on the bridge rail,
and tears streaming down his face, he
laughed at the strange sight, but did not
speak ; and the three, who had quietly
approached, drew back to await, while
below on the promenade deck, the little
white figure, as though attracted by his
laughter, turned into the stairway lead-
ing to the upper deck.
The phantasmagoria faded to a blank
wall of gray fog, and Rowland found
Futility. 49

sanity to mutter : "They've drugged me ;"

but in an instant he stood in the dark-
ness of a garden ·— one that he had
known. In the distance were the lights of
a house, and close to him was a young
girl, who turned from him and fled, even
as he called to her.
By a supreme effort of will, he brought
himself back to the present, to the bridge
he stood upon, and to his duty. "Why
must it haunt me through the years ,” he
groaned ; "drunk then- drunk since.
She could have saved me, but she chose
to damn me." He strove to pace up and
down, but staggered, and clung to the
rail ; while the three watchers approached
again, and the little white figure below
climbed the upper bridge steps.
"The survival of the fittest ," he ram-
bled as he stared into the fog ; "cause and
effect. It explains the Universe and
me." He lifted his hand and spoke
loudly, as though to some unseen famil-
50 Futility.

iar of the deep. "What will be the last

effect. Where in the scheme of ultimate
balance - under the law of the corre-
lation of energy, will my wasted wealth
of love be gathered, and weighed, and
credited? What will balance it, and
where will I be ? Myra, - Myra," he
called ; "do you know what you have
lost? Do you know, in your goodness ,
and purity, and truth, of what you have
done? Do you know—"
The fabric on which he stood was
gone, and he seemed to be poised on
nothing in a worldless universe of gray
- alone. And in the vast, limitless emp-
tiness there was no sound, or life, or
change ; and in his heart neither fear, nor
wonder, nor emotion of any kind, save
one the unspeakable hunger of a love
that had failed . Yet it seemed that he
was not John Rowland, but someone,
or something else ; for presently he saw
himself, far away - millions of billions
Futility. 51

of miles ; as though on the outermost

fringes of the void and heard his own
voice, calling. Faintly, yet distinctly,
filled with the concentrated despair of his
life, came the call : "Myra , - Myra."
There was an answering call , and look-
ing for the second voice, he beheld her
--- the woman of his love - on the oppo-

site edge of space ; and her eyes held the

tenderness , and her voice held the plead-
ing that he had known but in dreams.
"Come back," she called ; "come back to
me." But it seemed that the two could
not understand ; for again he heard the
despairing cry: "Myra, Myra, where are
you ?" and again the answer : "Come
back. Come."

Then in the far distance to the right

appeared a faint point of flame, which
grew larger. It was approaching, and
he dispassionately viewed it ; and when
he looked again for the two, they were
gone, and in their places were two clouds
52 Futility.

of nebula, which resolved into myriad

points of sparkling light and color--
whirling , encroaching, until they filled
all space. And through them the larger
light was coming and growing larger
-straight for him.
He heard a rushing sound, and look-
ing for it, saw in the opposite direction
a formless object, as much darker than
the gray of the void as the flame was
brighter, and it too was growing larger,
and coming. And it seemed to him that
this light and darkness were the good
and evil of his life , and he watched, to
see which would reach him first, but felt
no surprise or regret when he saw that
the darkness was nearest. It came,
closer and closer, until it brushed him on
the side.
"What have we here, Rowland?" said
a voice. Instantly, the whirling points.
were blotted out ; the universe of gray
changed to the fog ; the flame of light to
Futility. 53

the moon rising above it, and the shape-

less darkness to the form of the first

officer. The little white figure, which

had just darted past the three watchers ,
stood at his feet. As though warned by
an inner sub-consciousness of danger, it
had come in its sleep, for safety and care,
to its mother's old lover -the strong

and the weak - the degraded and dis-

graced, but exalted -the persecuted,
drugged and all but helpless John Row-
land.
With the readiness with which a man
who dozes while standing will answer
the question that wakens him, he said —
though he stammered from the now
waning effect of the drug : " Myra's
child, sir; it's asleep." He picked up the
night-gowned little girl, who screamed.
as she wakened, and folded his pea-
jacket around the cold little body.
"Who is Myra," asked the officer in a
bullying tone, in which were also chagrin
54 Futility.

and disappointment. "You've been

asleep yourself."
Before Rowland could reply a shout
from the crows ' -nest split the air.
"Ice," yelled the lookout ; "ice ahead.
Ice-berg. Right under the bows." The
first officer ran amid-ships, and the cap-
tain, who had remained there, sprang to
the engine-room telegraph, and this time
the lever was turned. But in five sec-
onds the bow of the "Titan" began to
lift , and ahead , and on either hand , could
be seen, through the fog, a field of ice,
which arose in an incline to a hundred
feet high in her track. The music in
the theater ceased, and among the babel
of shouts and cries, and the deafening
noise of steel, scraping and crashing over
ice, Rowland heard the agonized voice
of a woman, crying from the bridge
steps : "Myra Myra, where are you.
Come back."
 CHAPTER VII.

Forty-five thousand tons -dead-

weight - rushing through the fog at the
rate of fifty feet a second, had hurled it-
self at an ice-berg. Had the impact
been received by a perpendicular wall,
the elastic resistance of bending plates
and frames would have overcome the

momentum with no more damage to the

passengers than a severe shaking up,
and to the ship, than the crushing in of
her bows and the killing, to a man, of the
watch below. She would have backed
off, and, slightly down by the head, fin-
ished the voyage at reduced speed, to re-
build on insurance money, and benefit,
largely, in the end, by the consequent
advertising of her indestructibility. But
a low beach, possibly formed by the re-
cent overturning of the berg, received
the "Titan," and with her keel cutting
 ty
56 Futili .

the ice like the steel runner of an ice-

boat, and her great weight resting on the
starboard bilge, she rose out of the sea,
higher and higher — until the propellers
in the stern were half exposed — then ,
meeting an easy, spiral rise in the ice.
under her port bow, she heeled, over-
balanced, and crashed down on her side,
to starboard.
The holding- down bolts of twelve
boilers and three triple-expansion en-
gines, unintended to hold such weights
from a perpendicular flooring, snapped,
and down through a maze of ladders,
gratings and fore-and-aft bulk-heads
came these giant masses of steel and
iron , puncturing the sides of the ship,
even where backed by solid , resisting ice ;
and filling the engine and boiler-rooms
with scalding steam, which brought a
quick, though tortured death , to each of
the hundred men on duty in the engi-
neer's department .
Futility. 57

Amid the roar of escaping steam, and

the bee-like buzzing of nearly three thou-
sand human voices, raised in agonized
screams and callings from within the en-
closing walls, and the whistling of air
through hundreds of open dead- lights as
the water, entering the holes of the
crushed and riven starboard side, ex-
pelled it, the "Titan" moved slowly back-
ward and launched herself into the sea,
where she floated low on her side - a
dying monster, groaning with her death-
wound.
A solid, pyramid-like hummock of ice,
left to starboard as the steamer ascended ,
and which projected close along- side the
upper, or boat deck, as she fell over, had
caught, in succession , every pair of dav-
its to starboard, bending and wrench-
ing them, smashing boats, and snapping
tackles and gripes, until, as the ship
cleared herself, it capped the pile of
wreckage strewing the ice in front of,
 y
58 Futilit .

and around it, with the end and broken

stanchions of the bridge. And in this
shattered, box-like structure, dazed by
the sweeping fall through an arc of sev-
enty foot radius, crouched Rowland ,
bleeding from a cut in his head, and still
holding to his breast the little girl-
now too frightened to cry.
By an effort of will , he aroused him-
self and looked. To his eye-sight,

twisted and fixed to a shorter focus by

the drug he had taken, the steamship was
little more than a blotch on the moon-

whitened fog ; yet he thought he could

see men clambering and working on the
upper davits, and the nearest boat-
number twenty-four - seemed to be

swinging by the tackles. Then the fog

shut her out, though her position was still
indicated by the roaring of steam from
her iron lungs. This ceased in time,
leaving behind it the horrid humming
sound and whistling of air ; and when
Futility. 59

this too was suddenly hushed, and the

ensuing silence broken by dull, booming
reports as from bursting compart-
ments - Rowland knew that the holo-
caust was complete ; that the invincible.
"Titan," with nearly all of her people,
unable to climb vertical floors and ceil-

ings, was beneath the surface of the sea.

Mechanically, his benumbed faculties
had received and recorded the impres-
sions of the last few moments ; he could
not comprehend, to the full, the horror
Yet his mind was keenly alive
of it all.
to the peril of the woman whose appeal-
ing voice he had heard and recognized -
the woman of his dream, and the mother
of the child in his arms. He hastily ex-

amined the wreckage. Not a boat was

intact. Creeping down to the water's

edge, he hailed, with all the power of his

weak voice, to possible, but invisible
-
boats beyond the fog — calling on them
to come and save the child to look out
60 Futility.

for a woman who had been on deck,

under the bridge. He shouted this
woman's name the one that he knew

- encouraging her to swim, to tread

water, to float on wreckage, and to an-
swer him, until he came to her. There
was no response, and when his voice had
grown hoarse and futile, and his feet
numb from the cold of the thawing ice,
he returned to the wreckage , weighed
down and all but crushed by the blackest
desolation that had so far, come into his
unhappy life. The little girl was crying
and he tried to soothe her.
"I want Mamma," she wailed.
"Hush, Baby, hush ," he answered
wearily and bitterly; "so do I- more
than Heaven. But I think our chances
are about even now. Are you cold , lit-
tle one? We'll go inside , and I'll make
a house for us."
He removed his coat, tenderly
wrapped the little figure in it, and with
 Futility. 61

the injunction : "Don't be afraid, now,"

placed her in the corner of the bridge,
which rested on its forward side. As he
did so, the bottle of whisky fell out of
the pocket. It seemed an age since he
had found it there, and it required a
strong effort of reasoning before he re-
membered its full significance. Then he
raised it, to hurl it down the incline of
ice, but stopped himself.
"I'll keep it," he muttered ; "it may be
safe in small quantities, and we'll need it
on this ice." He placed it in a corner;
then, removing the canvas cover from
one of the wrecked boats, he hung it
over the open side and end of the bridge,
crawled within and donned his coat -- a

ready-made, slop-chest garment, de-

signed for a larger man- and buttoning
it around himself and the little girl, lay
down on the hard wood-work. She was
still crying, but soon, under the influ-
ence of the warmth of his body, ceased
and went to sleep.
62 Futility.

Huddled in a corner, he gave himself

up to the torment of his thoughts. Two
pictures alternately crowded his mind ;
one, that of the woman of his dream, en-
treating him to come back which his
memory clung to as an oracle ; the other,
of this woman, cold and lifeless , fathoms
deep in the sea. He pondered on her
chances. She was close to , or on the
bridge steps ; and boat twenty-four,
which he was almost sure was being

cleared away as he looked, would swing

close to her as it descended . She could
climb in and be saved ·- unless the
swimmers from doors and hatches
should swamp the boat. And, in his
agony of mind, he cursed these swim-
mers, preferring to see her, mentally, the
only passenger in the boat, with the
watch-on-deck to pull her to safety.
The potent drug he had taken was still
at work, and this, with the musical swash
of the sea on the icy beach, and the muf-
Futility. 63

fled creaking and crackling beneath and

around him - the voice of the iceberg
overcame him finally, and he slept, to
waken at daylight with limbs stiffened
and numb - almost frozen .
And all night, as he slept, a boat with
the number twenty-four on her bow,
pulled by sturdy sailors and steered by
brass-buttoned officers, was making for
the Southern Lane -the highway of
spring traffic. And, crouched in the
stern-sheets of this boat was a moaning,
praying woman , who cried and screamed
at intervals, for husband and baby, and
would not be comforted , even when one
of the brass-buttoned officers assured her
that her child was safe in the care of

John Rowland , a brave and trusty sailor,

who was certainly in the other boat with
it. He did not tell her, of course, that
Rowland had hailed from the berg as she
lay unconscious, and that if he still had
the child, it was with him there-
deserted.
 CHAPTER VIII.

Rowland, with some misgivings,

drank a small quantity of the liquor, and
wrapping the still sleeping child in the
coat, stepped out on the ice. The fog
was gone and a blue, sailless sea
stretched out to the horizon. Behind
him was ice a mountain of it. He
climbed the elevation and looked at
another stretch of vacant view from a
precipice a hundred feet high. To his
left the ice sloped to a steeper beach than
the one behind him , and to the right, a
pile of hummocks and taller peaks, in-
.terspersed with numerous canons and
caves, and glistening with water-falls ,
shut out the horizon in this direction .
Nowhere was there a sail or steamer's
smoke to cheer him , and he retraced his
steps. When but half way to the wreck-
age, he saw a moving white object ap-
Futility. 65

proaching from the direction of the

peaks.
His eyes were not yet in good condi-
tion, and after an uncertain scrutiny he
started at a run ; for he saw that the mys-
terious white object was nearer the

bridge than himself, and rapidly lessen-

ing the distance. A hundred yards away,
his heart bounded and the blood in his
veins felt cold as the ice under-foot, for
the white object proved to be a traveler
from the frozen North, lean and fam-
ished — a polar-bear, who had scented
food and was seeking it - coming on at
a lumbering run, with great red jaws
half open, and yellow fangs exposed .
Rowland had no weapon but a strong
jack-knife, but this he pulled from his
pocket and opened as he ran. Not for
.
an instant did he hesitate at a conflict
that promised almost certain death ; for
the presence of this bear involved the
safety of a child whose life had become.
66 Futility .

of more importance to him than his own .

To his horror, he saw it creep out of the
opening in its white covering, just as the
bear turned the corner of the bridge.
"Go back, Baby, go back," he shouted,
as he bounded down the slope. The bear
reached the child first, and with seem-
ingly no effort, dashed it, with a blow of
its massive paw, a dozen feet away, where
it lay quiet. Turning to follow, the brute
was met by Rowland.
The bear rose to his haunches, sank
down, and charged ; and Rowland felt
the bones of his left arm crushing under
the bite of the big, yellow-fanged jaws .
But, falling, he buried the knife-blade in
the shaggy hide, and the bear, with an
angry snarl, spat out the mangled mem-
ber and dealt him a sweeping blow which
sent him farther along the ice than the
child had gone. He arose, with broken
ribs, and scarcely feeling the pain -
awaited the second charge. Again was
Futility. 67

the crushed and useless arm gripped in

the yellow vise, and again was he pressed
backward ; but this time he used the knife
with method. The great snout was
pressing his breast ; the hot, fetid breath
was in his nostrils ; and at his shoulder
the hungry eyes were glaring into his
own. He struck for the left eye of the
brute and struck true. The five-inch

blade went in to the handle, piercing the

brain , and the animal , with a convulsive
spring which carried him half way to his
feet by the wounded arm , reared up, with
paws out-stretched, to full eight feet of
length, then sagged down, and with a
few spasmodic kicks, lay still. .
Rowland
had done what no Innuit hunter will at-
tempt he had fought and killed the
Tiger-of-the-North with a knife.
It had all happened in a minute, but in
that minute he was crippled for life ; for
in the quiet of a hospital, the best of sur-
gical skill could hardly avail to reset the
68 Futility.

fractured particles of bone in the limp.

arm , and bring to place the crushed ribs.
And he was adrift on a floating island of
ice, with the temperature near the freez-
ing point, and without even the rude ap-
pliances of the savage .
He painfully made his way to the little
pile of red and white, and lifted it with
his uninjured arm, though the stooping
caused him excruciating torture. The

child was bleeding from four deep, cruel

scratches, extending diagonally from the
right shoulder down the back ; but he
found upon examination that the soft ,
yielding bones were unbroken, and that
her unconsciousness came from the
rough contact of the little forehead with
the ice ; for a large lump had raised.
Of pure necessity, his first efforts
must be made in his own behalf ; so
wrapping the baby in his coat he placed
.
it in his shelter, and cut and made from
the canvas, a sling for his dangling arm.
Futility. 69

Then, with knife, fingers and teeth, he

partly skinned the bear - often com-
pelled to pause to save himself from
fainting with pain - and cut from the
warm but not very thick layer of fat, a
broad slab, which, after bathing the
wounds at a near-by pool, he bound
firmly to the little one's back, using the
torn night-gown for a bandage.
He cut the flannel lining from his coat,
and from that of the sleeves made nether
garments for the little limbs , doubling
the surplus length over the ankles and
tying in place with rope-yarns from a
boat-lacing. The body lining he

wrapped around her waist, enclosing the

arms, and around the whole he passed
turn upon turn of canvas in strips , mar-
ling the mummy-like bundle with yarns,
much as a sailor secures chafing-gear to
the doubled parts of a hawser a proc-
ess when complete, that would have
aroused the indignation of any mother
70 Futility.

who saw it. But he was only a man,

and suffering mental and physical
anguish.
By the time he had finished , the child
had recovered consciousness, and was

protesting its misery in a feeble, wailing

-
cry. But he dared not stop - to be-
come stiffened with cold and pain .
There was plenty of fresh water from
melting ice, scattered in pools. The
bear would furnish food; but they
needed fire, to cook this food , keep them
warm and the dangerous inflammation.
from their hurts , and to raise a smoke
to be seen by passing craft.
He recklessly drank from the bottle ,
needing the stimulant, and reasoning,
perhaps rightly, that no ordinary drug
could affect him in his present condition ;
then he examined the wreckage - most
of it good kindling wood. Partly above,
partly below the pile, was a steel life-
boat, decked over air-tight ends, now
Futility. 71

doubled to more than a right-angle and

resting on its side. With canvas hung
over one half, and a small fire in the

other, it promised, by its conducting

property, a warmer and better shelter
than the bridge . A sailor without
matches is an anomaly. He whittled
shavings, kindled the fire, hung the can-
vas and brought the child, who begged
piteously for a drink of water.
He found a tin can possibly left in a
leaky boat before its final hoist to the
davits and gave her a drink, to which
he had added a few drops of the whisky.
Then he thought of breakfast. Cutting
a steak from the hind-quarters of the
bear, he toasted it on the end of a splin-
ter and found it sweet and satisfying ; but
when he attempted to feed the child, he
understood the necessity of freeing its
arms ― which he did, sacrificing his left
shirt-sleeve to cover them. The change
and the food stopped its crying for a
72 Futility.

while, and Rowland lay down with it in

the warm boat. Before the day had
passed the whisky was gone and he was
delirious with fever, while the child was
but little better.
 CHAPTER IX .

With lucid intervals, during which he

replenished or rebuilt the fire , cooked
the bear-meat, and fed and dressed the
wounds of the child, this delirium lasted
three days. His suffering was intense.
His arm, the seat of throbbing pain, had
swollen to twice the natural size , while
his side prevented him taking a full
breath, voluntarily. He had paid no at-
tention to his own hurts, and it was

either the vigor of a constitution that

years of dissipation had not impaired , or
some anti-febrile property of bear- meat,
or the absence of the exciting whisky
that won the battle. He rekindled the
fire with his last match on the evening of
the third day and looked around the
darkening horizon , sane, but feeble in
body and mind.
If a sail had appeared in the interim,
74 Futility.

he had not seen it ; nor was there one in

sight now. Too weak to climb the
slope, he returned to the boat, where the
child, exhausted from fruitless crying ,
was now sleeping. His unskilful, and
rather heroic manner of wrapping it up
to protect it from cold had, no doubt,
contributed largely to the closing of its
wounds by forcibly keeping it still,
though it must have added to its present
sufferings. He looked for a moment on '
the wan, tear-stained little face, with its
fringe of tangled curls peeping above the
wrappings of canvas, and stooping pain-
fully down, kissed it softly ; but the kiss
awakened it and it cried for its mother.
He could not soothe it, nor could he try ;
and with a formless, wordless curse
against destiny welling up from his
heart, he left it and sat down on the

wreckage at some distance away.

"We'll very likely get well, " he mused,
gloomily ; "unless I let the fire go out.
Futility. 75

What then? We can't last longer than

the berg, and not much longer than the
bear. We must be out of the tracks –
we were about nine hundred miles out
when we struck ; and the current sticks
to the fog-belt here about west- sou'
west -- but that's the surface water.
These deep fellows have currents of their
Own. There's no fog ; we must be to
the southward of the belt between the
Lanes. They'll run their boats in the
other Lane after this, I think - the
money-grabbing wretches. Curse them
- if they've drowned her. Curse them,
with their water-tight compartments ,
and their logging of thelookouts .
Twenty-four boats for three thousand
people ― lashed down with tarred gripe-
lashings - -thirty men to clear them
away, and not an axe on the boat-deck
or a sheath-knife on a man. Could she
have got away? If they got that boat
down, they might have taken her in from
76 Futility.

the steps ; and the mate knew I had her

child he would tell her. Her name

must be Myra, too ; it was her voice I

heard in that dream. That was hasheesh.
What did they drug me for ? But the
whisky was all right. It's all done with
now, unless I get ashore - - but will I?"
The moon rose above the castellated

structure to the left, flooding the icy

beach with ashen-gray light , sparkling in
a thousand points from the cascades ,
streams and rippling pools, throwing
into blackest shadow the gullies and hol-
lows, and bringing to his mind, in spite
of the weird beauty of the scene , a crush-
ing sense of loneliness of littleness

as though the vast pile of inorganic des-

olation which held him was of far
greater importance than himself, and all
the hopes, plans and fears of his life-time.
The child had cried itself to sleep again ,
and he paced up and down the ice.
“Up there, ” he said, moodily, looking
Futility. 77

into the sky, where a few stars shone

faintly in the flood from the moon ; "Up
there somewhere they don't know
just where but somewhere up above,
is the Christian's heaven. Up there is
their good God who has placed
Myra's child here - their good God
whom they borrowed from the savage,
blood-thirsty race that invented him.
And down below us somewhere again

is their hell and their bad god, whom

they invented themselves. And they
give us our choice - heaven or hell. It
is not so not so. The great mystery
is not solved the human heart is not
helped in this way. No good, merciful
God created this world or its conditions.

Whatever may be the nature of the

causes at work beyond our mental vision,
one fact is indubitably proven - that the
qualities of mercy, goodness , justice ,
play no part in the governing scheme.
And yet, they say the core of all religions
78 Futility.

on earth is the belief in this. Is it? Or

is it the cowardly, human fear of the un-
known that impels the savage mother
to throw her babe to a crocodile - that
impels the civilized man to endow

churches that has kept in existence.

from the beginning a class of sooth -say-
ers, medicine-men, priests and clergy-
men, all living on the hopes and fears
excited by themselves.
"And people pray - millions of them
—and claim they are answered . Are
they? Was ever supplication sent into
that sky by troubled humanity, an-
swered, or even heard ? Who knows?
They pray for rain and sunshine , and
both come in time . They pray for
health and success and both are but nat-
ural in the marching of events. This is
not evidence. But they say that they
know, by spiritual uplifting, that they are
heard, and comforted , and answered at
the moment. Is not this a physiological
Futility. 79

experiment? Would they not feel

equally tranquil if they repeated the mul-
tiplication table, or boxed the compass ?
"Millions have believed this - that
prayers are answered — and these mil-

lions have prayed to different gods.

Were they all wrong or all right? Would
a tentative prayer be listened to? Ad-
mitting that the Bibles, and Korans, and
Vedas, are misleading and unreliable ,
may there not be an unseen , unknown
Being, who knows my heart — who is
watching me now? If so, this Being
gave me my reason, which doubts Him ,
and on Him is the responsibility. And
would this being , if he exists , overlook a
defect for which I am not to blame, and

listen to a prayer from me, based on the

mere chance that I might be mistaken ?
Can an unbeliever, in the full strength
of his reasoning powers, come to such
trouble that he can no longer stand
alone, but must cry for help to an imag-
80 Futility.

ined power? Can such time come to a

sane man - - to me ?" He looked at the
dark line of vacant horizon. It was
seven miles away ; New York was nine
hundred ; the moon in the east over two
hundred thousand, and the stars above,
any number of billions. He was alone,
with a sleeping child, a dead bear and
the Unknown. He walked softly to the
boat and looked at the little one for a
moment ; then, raising his head, he whis-
pered : "For you, Myra."
Sinking to his knees the atheist lifted
his eyes to the heavens, and with his
feeble voice and the fervor born of help-
lessness, prayed to the God that he de-
nied. He begged for the life of the waif
in his care -- for the safety of the
mother, so needful to the little one -
and for courage and strength to do his
part and bring them together. But be-
yond the appeal for help in the service
of others, not one word or expressed
Futility. 81

thought of his prayer included himself as

a beneficiary. So much for pride . As
he rose to his feet, the flying-jib of a
bark appeared around the corner of ice
to the right of the beach, and a moment
later the whole moon -lit fabric came into
view, wafted along by the faint westerly
air, not half a mile away.
He sprang to the fire, forgetting his
pain, and throwing on wood, made a
blaze. He hailed, in a frenzy of excite-
ment : "Bark ahoy ! Bark ahoy ! Take
us off," and a deep-toned answer came.
across the water.
"Wake up, Myra," he cried as he lifted
the child ; "wake up. We're going
away."
"We goin' to Mamma?" she asked ,
with no symptoms of crying.
"Yes, we're going to Mamma, now-
that is," he added to himself ; "if that
clause in the prayer is considered ."
Fifteen minutes later, as he watched
82 Futility.

the approach of a white quarter- boat, he

muttered: "That bark was there - half
a mile back in this wind- before I

thought of praying. Is that prayer an-

swered? Is she safe ?"
 CHAPTER X.

On the first floor of the London Royal

Exchange is a large apartment studded
with desks, around and between which
surges a hurrying, shouting crowd of
brokers , clerks and messengers. Fring-
ing this apartment are doors and hall-
ways leading to adjacent rooms and of-
fices, and scattered through it are bulle-
tin-boards, on which are daily written in
duplicate the marine casualities of the
world. At one end is a raised platform ,
sacred to the presence of an important
functionary. In the technical language
of the "City," the apartment is known as
the "Room," and the functionary, as the
"Caller," whose business it is, to call out
in a mighty sing-song voice the names
of members wanted at the door, and the
bare particulars of bulletin news prior to
its being chalked out for reading.
84 Futility .

It is the head-quarters of Lloyds —

the immense association of under-
writers, brokers and shipping-men,
which, beginning with the customers at
Edward Lloyd's coffee-house in the lat-
ter part of the seventeenth century, has,
retaining his name for a title, developed
into a corporation so well equipped, so
splendidly organized and powerful, that
kings and ministers of State appeal to it
at times for foreign news.
Not a master or mate sails under the
English flag but whose record, even to
forecastle fights , is tabulated at Lloyds
for the inspection of prospective employ-
ers. Not a ship is cast away on any in-
habitable coast of the world, during un-
derwriters' business hours, but what that
mighty sing-song cry announces the
event at Lloyds within thirty minutes.
One of the adjoining rooms is known
as the Chart-room . Here can be found

in perfect order and sequence , each on

Futility. 85

its roller, the newest charts of all nations ,

with a library of nautical literature de-
scribing to the last detail the harbors,
lights, rocks, shoals and sailing direc-
tions of every coast-line shown on the
charts ; the tracks of latest storms ; the
changes of ocean currents , and the
whereabouts of derelicts and ice-bergs.
A member at Lloyds acquires in time a
theoretical knowledge of the sea seldom
exceeded by the men who navigate it.
Another apartment - the Captain's-
room is given over to joy and refresh-
ment, and still another, the antithesis of
the last, is the Intelligence office , where
anxious ones inquire for and are told the
latest news of this or that over- due ship.
On the day when the assembled
throng of under-writers and brokers had
been thrown into an uproarious panic by
the Crier's announcement that the great
"Titan" was destroyed, and the papers of
Europe and America were issuing extras
86
Futility .

giving the meagre details of the arrival

at New York of one boat -load of her
people, this office had been crowded
with weeping women and worrying men,
who would ask, and remain to ask again,
for more news. And when it came ----- a
-----
later cablegram, — giving the story of
the wreck and the names of the captain ,
first officer, boatswain, seven sailors and
one lady passenger as those of the saved,
a feeble old gentleman had raised his
voice in a quavering scream , high above
the sobbing of women and said :
"My daughter-in-law is safe ; but
where is my son, -- where is my son,
and my grand-child?" Then he had
hurried away, but was back again the
next day, and the next. And when, on
the tenth day of waiting and watching,
he learned of another boat-load of sailors
and children arrived at Gibraltar, he
shook his head slowly, muttering:
"George, George," and left the room.
Futility. 87

That night, after telegraphing the consul

at Gibraltar of his coming, he crossed
the channel.
In the first tumultuous riot of inquiry,
when under-writers had climbed over
desks and each other to hear again ofthe
wreck of the "Titan," one— the noisiest
of all, a corpulent, hook-nosed man with
flashing black eyes - had broken away
from the crowd and made his way to the
Captain's room, where, after a draught
of brandy, he had seated himself heavily,
with a groan that came from his soul.
"Father Abraham," he muttered ; "this
will ruin me."
Others came in, some to drink, some
- all, to talk.
to condole, —
"Hard hit, Meyer ?" asked one.
"Ten thousand," he answered, gloom-
ily.
"Serve you right," said another un-
kindly ; "have more baskets for your
eggs. Knew you'd bring up."
88 Futility.

Though Mr. Meyer's eyes sparkled at

this, he said nothing, but drank himself
stupid and was assisted home by one of
his clerks. From this on, neglecting his
business excepting to occasionally
visit the bulletins he spent his time in
the Captain's-room , drinking heavily,
and bemoaning his luck. On the tenth
.
day he read with watery eyes, posted on
the bulletin below the news of the arrival
at Gibraltar of the second boat-load of

people, the following :

"Life-buoy of 'Royal Age,' London ,
picked up among wreckage in Lat. 45-20,
N. Lon. 54-31, W. Ship ‘ Arctic', Boston,
Capt. Brandt."
"Oh, mine good God," he howled , as
he rushed toward the Captain's- room .
"Poor devil poor damn fool of an
Israelite," said one observer to another.
"He covered the whole of the ' Royal
Age' and the biggest chunk of the
'Titan'. It'll take his wife's diamonds
to settle. "
Futility. S9

Three weeks later, Mr. Meyer was

aroused from a brooding lethargy, by a
crowd of shouting under-writers , who
rushed into the Captain's-room, seized
him by the shoulders, and hurried him
out and up to a bulletin.
"Read it, Meyer - read it. What
d'you think of it ?" With some difficulty
he read aloud, while they watched his
face:
"John Rowland, sailor of the 'Titan',
with child passenger, name unknown, on
board bark 'Peerless' , Bath, at Christians-
and, Norway. Both dangerously ill. Row-
land speaks of ship cut in half night before
loss of 'Titan'."
"What do you make of it, Meyer
'Royal Age' , isn't it ?" asked one.
"Yes," vociferated another, " I've fig-
ured back. Only ship not reported
lately. Over-due two months . Was
spoken same day fifty miles east of that
iceberg."
90 Futility.

"Sure thing," said others. "Nothing

said about it in the captain's statement
looks queer."
"Vell, vwhat of it," said Mr. Meyer,
painfully and stupidly ; "dere is a col-
lision clause in der 'Titan's' policy ; I
merely bay the money to der steam-ship
company instead of to der ' Royal Age'
beeple."
"But why did the captain conceal it,"
they shouted at him. "What's his ob-
-- assured against
ject- collision suits."
"Der looks of it, berhaps - looks
pad."
"Nonsense, Meyer, what's the matter
with you. Which one of the lost tribes.
did you spring from — you're like none
of your race - drinking yourself stupid
like a good Christian. I've got a thou-
sand on the 'Titan,' and if I'm to pay it
I want to know why. You've got the
heaviest risk and the brain to fight for
it - you've got to do it. Go home,
Futility. 91

straighten up, and attend to this . We'll

watch Rowland till you take hold.
We're all caught. "
They put him into a cab, took him to
a Turkish bath and then home.
The next morning he was at his desk,
clear-eyed and clear-headed , and for a
few weeks was a busy, scheming man of
business.
 CHAPTER XI.

On a certain morning, about two

months after the announcement of the
loss of the "Titan," Mr. Meyer sat at his
desk in the Rooms, busily writing, when
the old gentleman who had bewailed the
death of his son in the Intelligence of-
fice, tottered in and took a chair beside
him .

"Good morning, Mr. Selfridge," he

said, scarcely looking up ; " I suppose
you have come to see der insurance paid
.
over. Der sixty days are up ."
"Yes, yes, Mr. Meyer," said the old
gentleman, wearily ; "of course, as
merely a stock-holder, I can take no ac-
tive part ; but I am a member here, and
naturally a little anxious. All I had in
the world.― even to my son and grand-
child was in the 'Titan' . "
"It is very sad, Mr. Selfridge ; you
Futility. 93

have my deepest sympathy. I pelieve

you are der largest holder of 'Titan'
stock ― about one hundred thousand, is
it not?"
"About that."
"I am der heaviest insurer ; so Mr. Sel-
fridge, this battle will be largely petween
you and myself."
"Battle is there to be any diffi-
culty ?" asked Mr. Selfridge, anxiously.
"Berhaps I do not know. Der
under-writers and outside companies

have blaced matters in my hands and

will not bay until I take der initiative.
We must hear from one John Rowland,
who, with a little child was rescued from
der berg and taken to Christiansand .
He has been too sick to leave der ship
which found him and is coming up der
Thames in her this morning. I have a
carriage at der dock and expect him at
my office py noon. Dere is where we
will dransact this little pizness - not
here."
94 Futility.

"A child - saved," queried the old

gentleman ; "dear me, it may be little
Myra. She was not at Gibraltar with
the others. I would not care - I would

not care much, about the money , if she

was safe. But my son my only son-
is gone ; and Mr. Meyer, I am a ruined
man if this insurance is not paid . "
"And I am a ruined man if it is ," said
Mr. Meyer, rising. "Will you come
around to der office, Mr. Selfridge ? I
expect der attorney and Captain Bryce
are dere now." Mr. Selfridge arose and
accompanied him to the street.
A rather meagrely furnished private
office in Threadneedle Street, partitioned

off from a larger one bearing Mr. Mey-

er's name in the window, received the
two men, one of whom, in the interests
of good business, was soon to be impov-
erished. They had not waited a minute
before Captain Bryce and Mr. Austen
were announced and ushered in. Sleek,
Futility. 95

well-fed and gentlemanly in manner,

perfect types of the British naval officer,
they bowed politely to Mr. Selfridge
when Mr. Meyer introduced them as the
captain and first officer of the "Titan ,"
and seated themselves. A few moments
later brought a shrewd looking person
whom Mr. Meyer addressed as the attor-
ney for the steamship company, but did
not introduce ; for such are the amenities
of the English system of caste.
"Now then, gentlemen," said Mr.
Meyer, "I pelieve we can broceed to piz-
ness up to a certain point - berhaps
further. Mr. Thompson, you have the
affidavit of Captain Bryce ?"
"I have," said the attorney, producing
a document which Mr. Meyer glanced at
and handed back.
"And in this statement, Captain," he
said, "you have sworn that der voyage
was uneventful up to der moment of der
wreck — that is," he added with an oily
96 Futility.

smile, as he noticed the paling of the

captain's face "that nothing occurred
.
to make der ' Titan' less sea-worthy or
manageable?"
"That is what I swore to," said the
captain with a little sigh.
"You are part owner, are you not,
Captain Bryce ?"
"I own five shares of the company's
stock."
"I have examined der charter and der
company lists," said Mr. Meyer ; “each
boat of der company is, so far as assess-
ments and dividends are concerned, a
separate company. I find you are listed
as owning two sixty-seconds of der
'Titan' stock. This makes you, under
der law, part owner of der 'Titan ,' and
responsible as such."
"What do you mean, sir, by that word
responsible, " said Captain Bryce,

quickly.
For answer, Mr. Meyer elevated his
Futility. 97

black eye-brows, assumed an attitude of

listening, looked at his watch and went
to the door, which, as he opened, admit-
ted the sound of carriage wheels.
"In here," he called to his clerks, then
faced the captain .
"What do I mean, Captain Bryce," he
thundered . "I mean that you have con-
cealed in your sworn statement all refer-
ence to der fact that you collided with
and sunk the ship ' Royal Age' on der
night before the wreck of your own
.
ship. "
"Who says so - how do you know
it ," blustered the captain ; “you have
only that bulletin statement of the man
Rowland -- an irresponsible drunkard."
"The man was lifted aboard drunk at
New York," broke in the first officer,
"and remained in a condition of delirium
tremens up to the ship -wreck. We did
not meet the ' Royal Age' and are in no
way responsible for her loss."
98 Futility.

"Yes," added Captain Bryce, "and a

man in that condition is liable to see
·
anything. We listened to his ravings
on the night of the wreck. He was on
lookout - on the bridge. Mr. Austen ,
the boatsw'n and myself were close to
him."

Before Mr. Meyer's oily smile had in-

dicated to the flustered captain that he
had said too much, the door opened and
admitted Rowland , pale and weak, with
empty left sleeve, leaning on the arm of
a bronze-bearded and manly looking
giant who carried little Myra on the
other shoulder, and who said, in the
breezy tone of the quarter-deck :
"Well, I've brought him, half dead ;
but why couldn't you give me time to
dock my ship ? A mate can't do every-
thing."
"And this is Captain Barry, of der
'Peerless'," said Mr. Meyer, taking his
hand . "It is all right, my friend ; you
Futility. 99

will not lose. And this is Mr. Row-

land and this is der little child. Sit

down, my friend. I congratulate you

on your escape."
"Thank you," said Rowland weakly
as he seated himself; "they cut my arm
off at Christiansand, and I still live.
That is my escape."
Captain Bryce and Mr. Austen , pale
and motionless, stared hard at this man,
in whose emaciated face, refined by suf-
fering to the almost spiritual softness of
age, they hardly recognized the features
of the troublesome sailor of the "Titan ."
His clothing, though clean, was ragged
and patched .
Mr. Selfridge had arisen and was also
staring, not at Rowland, but at the child,
who, seated in the lap of the big Captain
Barry, was looking around with won-
dering eyes. Her costume was unique.
A dress of bagging-stuff, put together --
as were her canvas shoes and hat -
100 Futility.

with sail-twine in sail-makers ' stitches,

three to the inch, covered skirts and
under-clothing made from old flannel
shirts. It represented many an hour's
work of the watch-below, lovingly be-
stowed by the crew of the "Peerless ;" for
the crippled Rowland could not sew.
Mr. Selfridge approached, scanned the
pretty features closely and asked :
"What is her name?"
"Her first name is Myra," answered
Rowland. "She remembers that ; but I
have not learned her last name, though
I knew her mother years ago - before
her marriage ."
"Myra, Myra," repeated the old gen-
tleman ; "do you know me ? Don't you
know me?" He trembled visibly as he
stooped and kissed her. The little fore-
head puckered and wrinkled as the child
struggled with memory ; then it cleared
and the whole face sweetened to a smile.
"Gwampa," she said.
Futility. ΙΟΙ

"Oh , God, I thank thee," murmured

Mr. Selfridge, taking her in his arms.
"I have lost my son , but I have found
his child --- my grand-daughter."
"But, sir," asked Rowland, eagerly;
"you this child's grand-father? your
son is lost, you say. Was he on board
the 'Titan ?' And the mother was she
saved, or is she, too " he stopped un-
able to continue.
"The mother is safe in New York ;
but the father, my son, has not yet been
heard from," said the old man , mourn-
fully.
Rowland's head sank and he hid his
face for a moment in his arm , on the
table at which he sat. It had been a
face as old, and worn, and weary as that
of the white-haired man confronting
him. On it, when it raised - flushed ,
bright-eyed and smiling - was the glory
of youth .
"I trust, sir," he said, "that you will
102 Futility.

telegraph her. I am penniless at pres-

ent, and, besides do not know her name."
"Selfridge - which, of course, is my
Own name. Mrs. Colonel , or Mrs.
George Selfridge. Our New York ad-
dress is well-known. But I shall cable
her at once ; and, believe me, sir, al-
though I can understand that our debt
to you cannot be named in terms of
money, you need not be penniless long.
You are evidently a capable man , and I
have wealth and influence."

Rowland merely bowed, slightly, but

Mr. Meyer muttered to himself:

"Vealth and influence. Berhaps not .

Now, gentlemen," he added in a louder
tone, "to pizness. Mr. Rowland , will
you tell us about der running down of
der 'Royal Age'?"
"Was it the ' Royal Age'?" asked
Rowland ; "I sailed in her one voyage.
Yes, certainly."
Mr. Selfridge, more interested in
Futility. 103

Myra than in the coming account, car-

ried her over to a chair in the corner and
sat down, where he fondled and talked
to her after the manner of grand -fathers
the world over, and Rowland, first look-
ing steadily into the faces of the two men
he had come to expose , and whose pres-
ence he had thus far ignored, told, while
they held their teeth tight together and
often buried their finger-nails in their
palms, the terrible story of the cutting
in half of the ship on the first night out
from New York, finishing with the at-
tempted bribery and his refusal.
"Vell, gentlemen , vwhat do you think
of that ?" asked Mr. Meyer, looking
around.

"A lie, from beginning to end,"

stormed Captain Bryce.
Rowland rose to his feet, but was
pressed back by the big man who had
accompanied him ― - who then faced

Captain Bryce and said, quietly :

104 Futility.

"I saw a polar bear that this man

killed in open fight. I saw his arm
afterward, and while nursing him away
from death I heard no whines or com-

plaints. He can fight his own battles

when well, and when sick I'll do it for
him. If you insult him again in my
presence I'll knock your teeth down
.
your throat."
 CHAPTER XII.

There was a moment's silence while

the two captains eyed one another,

broken by the attorney, who said :
"Whether this story is true or false, it
certainly has no bearing on the validity
of the policy. If this happened, it was
after the policy attached and before the
wreck of the "Titan."' "
"But der concealment- der conceal-
ment," shouted Mr. Meyer, excitedly.
"Has no bearing either. If he con-
cealed anything it was done after the
wreck, and after your liability was con-
firmed . It is not even barratry. You
must pay this insurance ."
"I will not bay it. I will not. I will
fight you in der courts." Mr. Meyer
stamped up and down the floor in his ex-
citement, then stopped with a
a tri-

umphant smile, and shook his finger into

the face of the attorney.
106 Futility.

"And even if der concealment will not

vitiate der policy, der fact that he had a
drunken man on look-out when der

'Titan' struck der ice-berg will be

enough. Go ahead and sue. I will not
pay. He was part owner. "
"You have no witnesses to that ad-
mission," said the attorney. Mr. Meyer
looked around the group and the smile
left his face.
"Captain Bryce was mistaken," said
Mr. Austen. "This man was drunk at
New York like others of the crew. But

he was sober and competent when on

look-out. I discussed theories of navi-
gation with him during his trick on the
bridge that night and he spoke intelli-
gently."
"But you yourself said, not ten
minutes ago, that this man was in a state
of delirium tremens up to der collision,"
said Mr. Meyer.
"What I said and what I will admit
Futility. 107

under oath are two different things," said

the officer, desperately. "I may have
said anything under the excitement of
the moment-when we were accused of
such an infamous crime . I say now, that
John Rowland, whatever may have been
his condition on the preceding night,
was a sober and competent look-out at
the time of the wreck of the "Titan.' "

"Thank you ," said Rowland dryly to

the first officer ; then, looking into the
appealing face of Mr. Meyer, he said:
"I do not think it will be necessary to
brand me before the world as an in-
ebriate in order to punish the company
and these men. Barratry, as I under-
stand it, is the unlawful act of a captain.
or crew at sea, causing damage or loss ;
and it only applies when the parties are
purely employees. Did I understand

rightly that Captain Bryce was part

owner of the 'Titan' ?"
"Yes," said Mr. Meyer, "he owns
108 Futility.

stock ; and we insure against barratry ;

but this man, as part owner, could not
fall back on it."
"And an unlawful act," went on Row-
land, "perpetrated by a captain who is
part owner, which might cause ship-
wreck, and, during the perpetration of
which ship-wreck really occurs , will be
sufficient to void the policy."
"Certainly," said Mr. Meyer, eagerly ;
"you were drunk on der look -out- you
were raving drunk, as he said himself.
You will swear to this, will you not, my
friend? It is bad faith with der under-
writers. It annuls der insurance . You
admit this , Mr. Thompson, do you not ?"
"That is law," said the attorney
coldly.
"Was Mr. Austen a part owner, also,"
asked Rowland, ignoring Mr. Meyer's
view of the case.
"One share, is it not, Mr. Austen?"
asked Mr. Meyer, while he rubbed his
Futility. 109

hands and smiled. Mr. Austen made no

sign of denial and Rowland continued :
"Then, for drugging a sailor into a
stupor, and having him on look-out out
of his turn while in that condition , and
at the moment when the 'Titan' struck
the ice-berg , Captain Bryce and Mr.
Austen have, as part owners, committed
an act which nullifies the insurance on
that ship ."

"You infernal, lying scoundrel,"

roared Captain Bryce. He strode to-
ward Rowland with threatening face.
Half-way, he was stopped by the impact
of a huge brown fist which sent him
reeling and staggering across the room
toward Mr. Selfridge and the child, over
whom he floundered to the floor-a dis-
heveled heap, while the big Captain
Barry examined teeth-marks on his
knuckles, and every one else sprang to
their feet.

"I told you to look out," said Captain

IIO Futility.

Barry. "Treat my friend respectfully."

He glared steadily at the first officer, as
though inviting him to duplicate the
offence ; but that gentleman backed away
from him and assisted the dazed Captain
Bryce to a chair, where he felt of his
loosened teeth, spat blood upon Mr.
Meyer's floor, and gradually awakened
to a realization of the fact that he had
been knocked down-and by an Ameri-
can.
Little Myra, unhurt but badly fright-
ened, began to cry and call for Rowland
in her own way, to the wonder, and
samewhat to the scandal of the gentle
old man who was endeavoring to soothe
her.

"Dammy," she cried ; as she struggled

to go to him ; "I want Dammy-
Dammy-Da-a- may.”
"Oh, what a pad little girl," said the
jocular Mr. Meyer, looking down on her;
"where did you learn such language ?"
Futility. III

"It is my nick-name," said Rowland

smiling in spite of himself; " She has
coined the word ," he explained to the
agitated Mr. Selfridge, who had not yet
comprehended what had happened ;
"and I have not yet been able to per-
suade her to drop it—and I could not be
harsh with her. Let me take her, sir."
He seated himself with the child, who
nestled up to him contentedly and soon
was tranquil.
"Now my, friend ," said Mr. Meyer,
"you must tell us about this drugging."
Then while Captain Bryce, under the
memory of the blow he had received,
nursed himself into an insane fury ; and
Mr. Austen, with his hand resting lightly
on the captain's shoulder ready to re-
strain him, listened to the story ; and the
attorney drew up a chair and took notes
of the story ; and Mr. Selfridge drew his
chair close to Myra and paid no atten-
tion to the story at all, Rowland recited
112 Futility.

the events prior to and succeeding the

ship-wreck. Beginning with the find-
ing of the whisky in his pocket , he told of
his being called to the starboard bridge
look-out in place of the rightful incum-
bent ; of the sudden and strange interest
Mr. Austen displayed as to his knowledge
of navigation ; of the pain in his stomach,
the frightful shapes he had seen on the
deck beneath and the sensations of his

dream-leaving out only the part which

bore on the woman he loved ; he told of
the sleep-walking child which awakened
him , of the crash of ice and instant
wreck, and the fixed condition of his
eyes which prevented their focusing only
at a certain distance, finishing his story-
to explain his empty sleeve—with a
graphic account of the fight with the
bear.
"And I have studied it all out," he said

in conclusion ; " I was drugged—I be-

lieve, with hasheesh, which makes a man
Futility. 113

see strange things-and brought up on

the bridge look-out where I could be
watched and my ravings listened to and
recorded, for the sole purpose of dis-
crediting my threatened testimony in
regard to the collision of the night be-
fore. But I was only half-drugged , as I
spilled part of my tea at supper . In that
tea, I am positive, was the hasheesh ."
"You know all about it, don't you,"
snarled Captain Bryce from his chair,
"'twas not hasheesh ; 'twas an infusion of
Indian-hemp ; you don't know— ” Mr.
Austen's hand closed over his mouth and
he subsided.
"Self-convicted ," said Rowland with a
quiet laugh. "Hasheesh is made from
.
Indian- hemp."
"You hear this, gentlemen," ex-
claimed Mr. Meyer, springing to his feet
and facing everybody in turn . He
pounced on Captain Barry. "You hear
this confession, Captain ; you hear him
114 Futility.

say Indian-hemp? I have a witness.

now, Mr. Thompson . Go right on with
your suit. You hear him, Captain Barry.
You are disinterested . You are a wit-
ness. You hear?"
"Yes, I heard it-the murdering
scoundrel ," said the Captain.
Mr. Meyer danced up and down in his
joy, while the attorney, pocketing his
notes , remarked to the discomfited Cap-
tain Bryce : "You are the poorest fool
I know," and left the office.
Then Mr. Meyer calmed himself, and
facing the two steamship officers , said,
slowly and impressively, while he poked
his fore-finger almost into their faces :
"England is a fine country, my friends
-a fine country to leave pehind some-
times . Dere is Canada , and der United
States, and Australia, and South Africa
-all fine countries, too-fine countries
to go to with new names. My friends,
you will be bulletened and listed at
Futility. 115

Lloyds in less than half an hour, and you

will never again sail under der English
flag as officers. And, my friends, let
me say, that in half an hour after you
are bulletened, all Scotland Yard will be
looking for you. But my door is not
locked."
Silently they arose, pale , shame- faced
and crushed, and went out the door,
through the outer office and into the
street.
 CHAPTER XIII.

Mr. Selfridge had begun to take an in-

terest in the proceedings. As the two
men passed out he arose and asked :
"Have you reached a settlement , Mr.
Meyer? Will the insurance be paid ?"
"No," roared the under-writer in the

car of the puzzled old gentleman ; while

he slapped him vigorously on the back ;
"it will not be paid. You or I must have
been ruined, Mr. Selfridge, and it has
settled on you. I do not pay der 'Titan's'
insurance-nor will der other insurers.
On der contrary, as der collision clause
in der policy is void with der rest, your
company must reimburse me for der in-

surance which I must pay to der ' Royal

Age' owners- that is, unless our good
friend here, Mr. Rowland, who was on
der look-out at der time, will swear that
her lights were out."
Futility. 117

"Not at all," said Rowland ; " her lights

were burning-look to the old gentle-
men," he exclaimed. " Look out for
him. Catch him."

Mr. Selridge was stumbling toward a

chair. He grasped it , loosened his hold ,
and before any one could reach him , fell
to the floor, where he lay, with ashen lips
and rolling eyes , gasping convulsively.
"Heart-failure," said Rowland as he
knelt by his side. "Send for a doctor."
"Send for a doctor," repeated Mr.
Meyer through the door to his clerks ;
"and send for a carriage, quick. I don't
want him to die in der office."
Captain Barry lifted the helpless figure
to a couch, and they watched, while the
convulsions grew easier, the breath
shorter and the lips from ashen gray to
blue. Before a doctor or carriage had
come, he had passed away.
"Sudden emotion of some kind," said
the doctor when he did arrive. "Violent
emotion, too. Hear bad news?"
118 Futility.

"Bad and good ," answered the under-

writer. "Good, in learning that this
dear little girl was his grand-daughter-
bad, in learning that he was a ruined man.
He was der heaviest stock-holder in der
'Titan.' One hundred thousand pounds,
he owned, of der stock, all of which this
poor, dear little child will not get." Mr.
Meyer looked sorrowful, as he patted
Myra on the head.
Captain Barry beckoned to Rowland,
who, slightly flushed, was standing by
the still figure on the couch and watch-
ing the face of Mr. Meyer, on which an-
noyance, jubilation and simulated shock
could be seen in turn.
"Wait," he said, as he turned to watch
the doctor leave the room. "Is this so ,

Mr. Meyer," he added to the under-

writer, "that Mr. Selfridge owned 'Titan'
stock, and would have been ruined, had
he lived, by the loss of the insurance

money?"
Futility. 119

"Yes, he would have been a poor man.

He had invested his last farthing-one
hundred thousand pounds. And if he
had left any more it would be assessed
to make good his share of what der com-
pany must bay for der ' Royal Age,'
which I also insured."
"Was there a collision clause in the
"Titan's policy?”
"Dere was."

"And you took the risk, knowing that

she was to run the Northern Lane at full
speed through fog and snow?"
"I did so did others ."

"Then , Mr. Meyer, it remains for me

to tell you that the insurance on the
'Titan' will be paid, as well as any liabil-
ities included in and specified by the
collision clause in the policy. In short,
I, the one man who can prevent it, re-
fuse to testify."
"Vwhat-a-t?"
Mr. Meyer grasped the back of a chair
and leaning over it, stared at Rowland.
120 Futility.

"You will not testify? Vwhat you

mean?"
"What I said ; and I do not feel called
upon to give you my reasons, Mr.
Meyer."
"My good friend," said the under-
writer, advancing with out- stretched
hands to Rowland, who backed away,
and taking Myra by the hand moved to-
ward the door. Mr. Meyer sprang

ahead, locked it and removed the key,

and faced them.

"Oh, mine goot Gott," he shouted , re-

lapsing in his excitement into the more
pronounced dialect of his race ; “vwhat
I do to you , hey ? Vwhy you go pack
on me, hey? Haf I not bay der doctor's
bill ? Haf I not bay for der carriage ?
Haf I not treat you like one shentleman ?
Haf I not, hey? I sit you down in mine
office and call you Mr. Rowland. Haf I
not been one shentleman?"
"Open that door," said Rowland
quietly.
Futility. 121

"Yes, open it," repeated Captain

Barry, his puzzled face clearing at the
prospect of action on his part. “Open
it or I'll kick it down."
"But you, mine friend - heard der
admission of der Captain of der

drugging . One goot witness will do :

two is petter. But you will swear, mine
friend. You will not ruin me."
"I stand by Rowland," said the Cap-
tain grimly. "I don't remember what
was said anyhow ; got a blamed bad
memory. Get away from that door. ”
Grevious lamentation weepings and
wailings, and the most genuine gnashing
of teeth interspersed with the feebler
cries of the frightened Myra and punctu-
ated by terse commands in regard to the
door, filled that private office, to the
wonder of the clerks without, and ended,
at last, with the crashing of the door
from its hinges .
Captain Barry, Rowland and Myra,
122 Futility.

followed by a parting, heart-borne mal-

ediction from the agitated under-writer ,
left the office and reached the street.
The carriage that had brought them was
still waiting.
"Settle inside," called the Captain to
the driver. "We'll take another, Row-
land."
Around the first corner, they found a
cab, which they entered , Captain Barry
giving the driver the direction — “Bark
'Peerless ,' East India Dock."
"I think I understand the game, Row-
land," he said as they started ; "you don't
want to break this child. "
"That's it," answered Rowland weakly
as he leaned back on the cushion, faint
from the excitement of the last few mo-
ments ; "and as for the right or wrong
of the position I am in- why, we must
go farther back for it than the question
of look-outs. The cause of the wreck
was full-speed in a fog. All-hands on
Futility. 123

look-out could not have seen that berg.

The under-writers knew the speed and
took the risk.Let them pay ."

"Right ——and I'm with you on it.

But you must get out of the country. I
don't know the law on the matter, but
they may compel you to testify. You
can't ship 'fore-the- mast again — that's
settled. But you can have a berth mate
with me as long as I sail a ship - if

you'll take it ; and you're to make my

cabin your home as long as you like ; re-
member that. Still, I know you want to

get across with the kid, and if you stay

around until I sail it may be months be-
fore you get to New York, with the
chance of losing her by getting foul of
English law. But just leave it to me.
There are powerful interests at stake in
regard to this matter."
What Captain Barry had in mind ,
Rowland was too weak to inquire. On
their arrival at the bark he was assisted
124 Futility.

by his friend to a couch in the cabin,

where he spent the rest of the day, unable
to leave it. Meanwhile, Captain Barry
had gone ashore again.
Returning toward evening, he said to
the man on the couch : " I've got your
pay, Rowland, and signed a receipt for
it to that attorney. He paid it out of his
own pocket. You could have worked
that company for fifty thousand, or
more ; but I knew you wouldn't touch
their money , and so, only struck him for
your wages. You're entitled to a

month's pay. Here it is American

money about seventeen. " He gave
Rowland a roll of bills.

"Now here's something else, Row-

land ," he continued , producing an en-
velope. "In consideration of the fact
that you lost all your clothes and later,
your arm , through the carelessness of

the company's officers, Mr. Thompson

offers you this ." Rowland opened the
Futility. 125

envelope. In it were two first cabin

tickets from Liverpool to New York.
Flushing hotly, he said, bitterly :
"It seems that I'm not to escape it
after all."
"Take ' em, old man, take ' em ; in fact
I took ' em for you, and you and the kid
are booked. And I made Thompson
agree to settle your doctor's bill and ex-
penses with that Sheeny. 'Tisn't bribery.
I'd heel you myself for the run over,
but, hang it, you'll take nothing from
me. You've got to get the young un
over. You're the only one to do it.

The old gentleman was an American ,

alone here hadn't even a lawyer, that
I could find. The boat sails in the
morning and the night train leaves in
.
two hours . Think of that mother, Row-
land. Why, man , I'd travel round the
world to stand in your shoes when you
hand Myra over. I've got a child of my
own." The Captain's eyes were wink-
126 Futility.

ing hard and fast, and Rowland's were

shining .
.
"Yes, I'll take the passage," he said
with a smile ; "I accept the bribe. "
"That's right. You'll be strong and
healthy when you land, and when that
mother's through thanking you, and you
have to think of yourself, remember — I
want a mate and will be here a month be-
fore sailing. Write to me, care o'
Lloyds, if you want the berth , and I'll
send you advance money to get back
with."
"Thank you, Captain, " said Rowland
as he took the other's hand and then

glanced at his empty sleeve ; "but my go-

ing to sea is ended . Even a mate needs
two hands."
"Well, suit yourself, Rowland ; I'd
take you mate without any hands at all
while you had your brains. It's done
me good to meet a man like you ; and

say, old man, you won't take it wrong

Futility. 127

from me, will you ? It's none o' my

business, but you're too all -fired good a
man to drink. You haven't had a nip
for two months. Are you going to be-
gin?"
"Never again," said Rowland , rising ;
"I've a future now, as well as a past."
 CHAPTER XIV .

It was near noon of the next day that

Rowland, seated in a steamer-chair with
Myra and looking out on a sail-spangled
stretch of blue from the saloon-deck of a
west-bound liner, remembered that he
had made no provisions to have Mrs.
Selfridge notified by cable of the safety
of her child; and unless Mr. Meyer or
his associates gave the story to the press
it would not be known.

"Well," he mused, "joy will not kill,

and I shall witness it in its fulness if I

take her by surprise . But the chances

are that it will get into the papers before
I reach her. It is too good for Mr.
Meyer to keep ."
But the story was not given out im-
mediately. Mr. Meyer called a confer-
ence of the under-writers concerned with
him in the insurance of the "Titan" at
Futility. 129

which it was decided to remain silent

concerning the card they hoped to play ,

and to spend a little time and money in
hunting for other witnesses among the
"Titan's" crew, and in interviewing Cap-
tain Barry, to the end of improving his
memory. A few stormy meetings with
this huge obstructionist convinced them
of the futility of further effort in his
direction , and, after finding at the end
of a week that every surviving member
of the "Titan's" port watch, as well as a
few of the other, had been induced to
sign for Cape voyages, or had otherwise
disappeared, they decided to give the
story told by Rowland to the press in
the hope that publicity would avail to
bring to light corroboratory evidence.
And this story, improved upon in the
repeating by Mr. Meyer to reporters ,
and embellished still farther by the re-
porters as they wrote it up - particularly
in the part pertaining to the polar bear,
130 Futility.

-blazoned out in the great dailies of

England and the Continent, and was
cabled to New York, with the name of
the steamer in which John Rowland had
sailed (for his movements had been
traced in the search for evidence) , where
it arrived, too late for publication , the
morning of the day on which, with Myra
on his shoulder, he stepped down the
gang-plank at a North River dock. As
a consequence , he was surrounded on
the dock by enthusiastic reporters , who
spoke of the story and asked for details.
He refused to talk, escaped them , and
gaining the side streets, soon found him-
self in crowded Broadway, where he
entered the office of the steam-ship com-
pany in whose employ he had been
wrecked, and secured from the "Titan's"
passenger-list, the address of Mrs. Self-
ridge the only woman saved. Then
he took a car up Broadway and alighted
abreast of a large department store.
Futility. 131

"We're going to see Mamma, soon ,

Myra," he whispered in the pink ear ;
and you must go dressed up. It don't
matter about me ; but you're a Fifth
Avenue baby - a little aristrocrat.
These old clothes won't do, now. " But
she had forgotten the word "Mamma,"
and was more interested in the exciting
noise and life of the street than in the
clothing she wore. In the store, Row-
land asked for, and was directed to the
children's department, where a young
woman waited on him.
"This child has been ship-wrecked ,"
he said . "I have sixteen dollars and a
half to spend on it. Give it a bath , dress
its hair and use up the money on a dress ,
shoes and stockings, underclothing , and
a hat." The young woman stooped and
kissed the little girl from sheer sympa-
thy, but protested that not much could be
done.
"Do you best," said Rowland ; "it is all
I have. I will wait here."
132 Futility.

An hour later, penniless again, he

emerged from the store with Myra,
bravely dressed in her new finery, and
was stopped at the corner by a policeman
who had seen him come out, and who
marveled, doubtless , at such juxtaposi-
tion of rags and ribbons.
"Whose kid ye got," he demanded .
"I believe it is the daughter of Mrs.
Colonel Selfridge," answered Rowland,
haughtily too haughtily, by far .
"Ye believe - but ye don't know.
Come back into the shtore, me tourist ;
an' we'll see who ye shtole it from ."
"Very well, Officer ; I can prove pos-
session." They started back, the officer
with his hand on Rowland's collar, and
were met at the door by a party of three
or four people coming out. One of this
party, a young woman in black, uttered a
piercing shriek and sprang toward them.
"Myra," she screamed ; " give me my
baby - give her to me."
Futility. 133

She snatched the child from Row-

land's shoulder, hugged it, kissed it, cried
and screamed over it ; then, oblivious to
the crowd that collected, incontinently
fainted in the arms of an indignant old
gentleman.
"You scoundrel," he exclaimed, as he
flourished his cane over Rowland's head
with his free arm. "We've caught you.
Officer, take that man to the station-
house. I will follow and make a charge
in the name of my daughter."
"Then he shtole the kid, did he ?"
asked the policeman .
"Most certainly," answered the old
gentleman, as, with the assistance of the
others, he supported the unconscious
young mother to a carriage. They all
entered , little Myra screaming for Row-
land from the arms of a female member
of the party, and were driven off.
"C'man wi' me," uttered the officer,
rapping his prisoner on the head with
his club and jerking him off his feet.
134 Futility.

Then, while an approving crowd ap-

plauded, the man who had fought and
conquered a hungry polar bear was
dragged through the streets like a sick.
animal by a New York policeman. For
such is the stultifying effect of a civilized
environment.
 CHAPTER XV.

In New York City there are homes

permeated by a moral atmosphere so
pure, so elevated, so sensitive to the
vibrations of human woe and misdoing,
that their occupants are removed, com-
pletely, from all consideration of any
but the spiritual welfare of poor human-
ity. In these homes the news-gather-
ing, sensation-mongering daily paper
does not enter.

In the same city are dignified magis-

trates members of clubs and societies
- who spend late hours, and often fail
to arise in the morning in time to read
the papers before the opening of court.
Also in New York are city editors ,
bilious of stomach, testy of speech and
inconsiderate of reporters' feelings and
professional pride. Such editors , when
a reporter has failed, through no fault of
136 Futility.

his own, in successfully interviewing a

celebrity , will sometimes send him news-
gathering in the police- courts, where
printable news is scarce.
On the morning following the arrest
of John Rowland, three reporters, sent
by three such editors, attended a hall of
justice presided over by one of the late-
rising magistrates mentioned above . In
the ante-room of this court, ragged, dis-
figured by his clubbing, and dishevelled
by his night in a cell, stood Rowland,
with other unfortunates more or less

guilty of offence against society. When

his name was called, he was hustled
through a door, along a line of police-
men each of whom added to his own
-
usefulness by giving him a shove — and
into the dock, where the stern-faced and
tired looking magistrate glared at him.
Seated in a corner of the court-room
were the old gentleman of the day before,
the young mother with little Myra in
Futility. 137

her lap, and a number of other ladies

all excited in demeanor ; and all but the
young mother directing venomous
glances at Rowland. Mrs. Selfridge,
pale and hollow-eyed, but happy- faced ,
withal, allowed no wandering glance to
rest on him .
The officer who had arrested Row-
land was sworn, and testified that he

had stopped the prisoner on Broadway

while making off with the child, whose
rich clothing had attracted his attention.
Disdainful sniffs were heard in the cor-
ner with muttered remarks : "rich indeed
-the idea - the flimsiest prints ." Mr.
Gaunt, the prosecuting witness , was
called to testify.
"This man, your Honor," he began,
excitedly, "was once a gentleman and a
frequent guest at my house. He asked
for the hand of my daughter, and as his
request was not granted, threatened re-
venge. Yes, sir. And out on the broad
138 Futility.

Atlantic, where he had followed my

daughter in the guise of a sailor, he at-
tempted to murder that child - my
grand-child ; but was discovered "

"Wait," interrupted the magistrate.

"Confine your testimony to the present
offence."

"Yes, your Honor. Failing in this , he

stole, or enticed the little one from its
bed, and in less than five minutes, the
ship was wrecked, and he must have
escaped with the child in "
"Were you a witness of this?"
"I was not there, your Honor ; but we
have it on the word of the first officer, a
gentleman - "
"Step down, sir. That will do. Of-
ficer, was this offence committed in New
York?"

"Yes, your Honor ; I caught him me-

self."
"Who did he steal the child from?"
"That leddy over yonder."
Futility. 139

"Madam , will you take the stand ?"

With her child in her arms, Mrs. Self-
ridge was sworn and in a low, quavering
voice, repeated what her father had said.
Being a woman, she was allowed by the
woman-wise magistrate to tell her story
in her own way. When she spoke of the
attempted murder at the taff-rail , her
manner became excited. Then she told

of the Captain's promise to put the man

in irons on her agreeing to testify against
him of the consequent decrease in her
watchfulness, and her missing the child
just before the ship-wreck --- of her
rescue by the gallant first officer, and
his assertion that he had seen her child
in the arms of this manthe only man
on earth who would harm it --- - of the
later news that a boat containing sailors
and children had been picked up by a
Mediterranean steamer - of the de-

tectives sent over, and their report that

a sailor answering this man's description.
140 Futility.

had refused to surrender a child to the

consul at Gibraltar and had disappeared
with it - of her joy at the news that

Myra was alive, and despair of ever see-

ing her again until she had met her in
this man's arms on Broadway the day
before. At this point, outraged mater-
nity overcame her. With cheeks

flushed, and eyes blazing scorn and

anger, she pointed at Rowland and all
but screamed : - "And he has mutilated

- tortured my baby. There are deep

wounds in her little back, and the doctor
said, only last night, that they were made
by a sharp instrument. And he must
have tried to warp and twist the mind of
my child, or put her through frightful
experiences ; for he has taught her to
swear horribly and last night at
bed-time, when I told her the story of
Elisha and the bears and the children ,
she burst out into the most uncontrol-

lable screaming and sobbing.”

Futility. 141

Here her testimony ended in a break-

down of hysterics, between sobs of which
were frequent admonitions to the child
not to say that bad word ; for Myra had
caught sight of Rowland and was calling
his nick-name.

"What ship-wreck was this where

was it?" asked the puzzled magistrate of
nobody in particular.
"The "Titan ,' " called out half a dozen
newspaper men across the room.
"The "Titan,' " repeated the magis-
trate ; "then this offence was committed
on the high seas under the English flag.
I cannot imagine why it is brought into
this court. Prisoner, have you anything
to say?"
"Nothing, your Honor." The answer
came in a kind of dry sob.
The magistrate scanned the ashen-
faced man in rags, and said to the clerk
of the court : "Change this charge to
""
vagrancy — eh --
142 Futility .

The clerk, instigated by the newspaper

men, was at his elbow. He laid a morn-
ing paper before him, pointed to certain ·
big letters and retired. Then the busi-
ness of the court suspended while the
court read the news. After a moment

or two the magistrate looked up.

"Prisoner," he said sharply; "take
your left sleeve out of your breast !"
Rowland obeyed mechanically, and it
dangled at his side. The magistrate
noticed, and read on. Then he folded
the paper and said :
"You are the man who was rescued
from an ice-berg, are you not ?" The
prisoner bowed his head.
"Discharged !" The word came forth
in an unjudicial roar. "Madam ," added
the magistrate, with a kindling light in
his eye; "this man has merely saved your
child's life. If you will read of his de-
fending it from a polar bear when you
go home, I doubt that you will tell it any
Futility. 143

more bear stories. Sharp instrument

umph." Which was equally unjudicial
on the part of the court.
Mrs. Selfridge , with a mystified and
rather aggrieved expression of face, left.
the court-room with her indignant father
and friends, while Myra shouted pro-
fanely for Rowland, who had fallen into.
the hands of the reporters. They would
have entertained him after the manner of
the craft ; but he would not be enter-
tained- neither would he talk. He
escaped and was swallowed up in the
world without ; and when the evening
papers appeared that day, the events of
the trial were all that could be added to
the story of the morning.
 CHAPTER XVI.

On the morning of the next day, a

one-armed dock lounger found an old
fish-hook and some pieces of string
which he knotted together ; then he dug
some bait and caught a fish . Being
hungry and without fire, he traded with
a coaster's cook for a meal, and before
night caught two more, one of which he
traded, the other, sold. He slept under
the docks paying no rent — fished,
traded and sold for a month, then paid
for a second-hand suit of clothes and the
services of a barber. His changed ap-
pearance induced a boss stevedore to

hire him tallying cargo, which was more

lucrative than fishing and furnished in
time, a hat, pair of shoes and an over-
coat. He then rented a room and slept
in a bed. Before long he found em-
ployment addressing envelopes for a
Futility. 145

.
mailing firm, at which his fine and rapid
penmanship secured him steady work ;
and in a few months he asked his em-

ployers to indorse his application for a

Civil Service examination. The favor
was granted, the examination easily
passed, and he addressed envelopes while
he waited. Meanwhile he bought new

and better clothing and seemed to have

no difficulty in impressing those whom
he met with the fact that he was a gentle-
man. Two years from the time of his
examination he was appointed to a

lucrative position under the Govern-

ment, and as he seated himself at the
desk in his office, could have been heard
to remark : "Now John Rowland, your
future is your own. You have merely

suffered in the past from a mistaken es-

timate of the importance of women and
whisky."
THE END .
 R
1336

BELKNAP &WARFIELD
BOOKSELLERS ,
CHARTFORD CONN. 1