A RAFT PILOT'S LOG 



the "alternates" on shore, some sick at home or in the 

 marine hospital, others laying ofif a trip to rest up or to 

 spend their few hard earned dollars, like an Irishman 

 whose name I can't recall, who gave me notice going 

 up river one trip on the "Ten Broeck" that he would 

 like his money as he intended to leave us when we 

 landed at Lansing for supplies. 



He had been with us three or four weeks in the mate's 

 crew on deck. He was above the average for intelli- 

 gence. He had read some good books and often gave 

 the others a few lines from Shakespeare appropriate to 

 the occasion, and in very impressive manner. 



I did not want him to get ofif and on my insisting as 

 to "why" he was leaving us, he told me he had already 

 overstayed his time and must go ashore to rest and re- 

 fresh himself. 



As I passed back through the deck room I glanced 

 at his big black pasteboard valise. He noticed this and 

 on my return through the deck room he called my atten- 

 tion to his worldly belonging and with excellent voice 

 and appropriate gesture said: "Captain! Behold her! 

 The accumulations of forty-one years." 



His possessions included a red handkerchief, an old 

 razor and a pair of socks. 



