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8 ABBOTT’S MONTHLY And given praise to Allah for giving me wisdom and vision to serve thee well.” This opening blast of oratory was not new to Captain Lee. It always came when Mahasmid discovered a stowaway. Captain Lee was vexed. Why had not Mahasmid fed this creature to the sharks, thereby proving his “wisdom and vision.” He gazed steadily into the eyes of his mate as he spoke. “Why, Mahasmid, do you break my silence to tell me this?” “Because, master, in there,” said Mahasmid, pointing a long brown finger toward the cabin door, “is a species of hairless dogs of infidels—-two of them—-who say they wish the honor of speaking to you. How they came aboard, and where, is a mystery only Allah knows.” “Your wisdom,” answered Captain Lee, sneeringly, “is that of a fool, your vision, that of a man born blind.” “Only the mercy of Allah,” replied the mate, “permits me to ponder over your jeweled words; but in there, I repeat—-“ The cause of Mahasmid’s agitation had come out of the cabin. Two men, one entirely bald-headed, the other partly so; their skins tanned to a reddish brown by the tropic sun, stood gazing at them. The younger of the two in a tattered nondescript uniform leaned on the arm of the other who was attired in a suit of soiled white duck. The man in uniform was trying to laugh, but it could be seen that he was in pain. To be safe aboard a stout schooner far out at sea was another link in his chain of adventure. But the older man was serious; he adjusted his gold rimmed glasses, and ran his hand nervously across his chin. He almost raised it in a salute, but something in the appearance of the captain caused him to change his mind. For a time Captain Lee stood scowling toward the two men. He did not move; he preferred to study them at a distance. His steady, fixed gaze, however, drew them on. All at once his expression underwent a change. A surprise greater than the knowledge of their presence aboard had given him, now possessed him. A sudden roll of the schooner as it plunged into a tremendous wave, threw the two stowaways off their feet. “Return to cabin, or you’ll be washed overboard,” shouted Lee, advancing swiftly toward them. They needed no second admonition. On their cramped legs they staggered like drunken men back to the cabin. The southeaster was growing in velocity. Captain Lee’s eyes ranged the whole of the vessel overhead from the flying jib to fore sky sail, from main sail to spanker. He gave his orders to Mahasmid. Then trailed off to hear what his unwelcome visitors had to say. And Mahasmid, glad to escape so lightly, was away quickly; he muttered to himself his intentions to vent his spleen on the Circassian; he did not like them anyway. He wished that Captain Lee had given them up to the scimitars of the Turks that night in the harbor off from Gallipoli when they were accused, and justly accused, of political plotting against no less a personage than Ben-Ahmed Bey. The captain had shown poor judgment in saving them, and merely showing his displeasure by giving them the hardest work and making them stand the hardest watch. No doubt some of them were responsible for this latest pollution in the form of two stowaways for which Allah would make them suffer. Those clouds overhead were ominous, and passing too low for one’s comfort. WHEN Captain Lee entered the cabin, the youngest stowaway had made himself as nearly comfortable as possible. He lay curled up on the coarse wicker settee which was cleated to the wall; his companion still nervous, flushed when he saw captain Lee’s eyes upon him. He started to rise, but fell back, then fixed his own somewhat feverish gaze on his host. The captain never uttered a word; he stood staring from one to the other, waiting for them to speak, and with the scowl on his face unchanged. His attitude cowed them, for they were aware of the seriousness of their offense. “I’m a sick man,” the older man said. I am Doctor Marshall Burr; this would ER man is my son, Benjamin.” He paused as if expecting a sympathetic response. He received none. “We—-I will pay you well for taking us to the States—-where I understand you are bound.” Captain Lee took one step forward, slipped hands deep under the belt that held his baggy trousers. “So you would pay, eh,” he said, speaking slowly, and in a tone that was not more than a hiss, “with your gold, but money or no money, you would pay just the same.” Doctor Burr flushed deeply; the captain’s voice and gesture started him to wondering if he had met him I before. “When I explain the circumstances, you will understand why we paid someone to smuggle us aboard your vessel.” “Really, captain, there isn’t very much to tell. My son here with more money than I should ever have permitted him to have at any time has traveled all over the world getting himself into one scrape after another, finally landed in Puerto Melpo and became a friend of Gonzaley, the revolutionist leader. Benjamin joined him in the latest fracas, and got himself shot when the attempt was (Continued on page 10) THE BUTTERFLY AND THE ROSE By LENA L. DUDLEY Alone grew the rose by the garden path, Proud and graceful and tall; All the flowers around her there Had answered the winter’s call: But, she was in love with the butterfly Who, with his gorgeous wings, Would flit about in the sunshine, Kissing the flowers and things. Alas, came the frosts of winter And all that winter brings; But, he dared not go in the frosty air, For fear he would spoil his wings. “Why should she mind the winter’s chill? Why should she miss the flowers? As long as she had his love to fill All these happy hours.” But alone she sat each day and pined; Her petals fell apart; Slowly she drooped her graceful head, Then, died of a broken heart. The winds came out of the clouds adn mourned And the snows from Heaven above Wrapped her in a soft white sheet,—- This rose who died for love.