THE UNFORTUNATE MIRANDA 



in the cabin just in front of our sleeping pen began to pour 

 out volumes of smoke that almost choked us. One wise 

 individual suggested that salt be thrown on the fire to put 

 it out. The suggestion was acted upon and several shovel- 

 fuls of salt were thrust into the stove with such excellent 

 effect that we were nearly suffocated by chlorine gas and 

 the dense volume of smoke that now issued forth and settled 

 all over us. Every one gasped for breath and hurled in- 

 vectives at the head of the unfortunate man who had sug- 

 gested this method of putting out a fire. Had he been 

 turned, like Lot's wife, into a pillar of salt, I think we 

 should have all rejoiced; it would have been a punishment 

 to fit the crime. 



However, the nuisance gradually abated, and although 

 the odor abided with us all night and fought with fish and 

 bilge water for supremacy, yet being now hardened, we 

 were enabled to snatch some sleep despite the gale and 

 the closeness of the quarters. A small party near me, hud- 

 dled together in sitting postures, kept me wide awake 

 for a while by an earnest discussion of the effect of salt 

 upon fire, as if it had not been sufficiently demonstrated. 

 One man in particular advanced his arguments in an almost 

 continuous stream. His extraordinary volubility had a 

 certain fascination about it, and I could not choose but 

 hear. At length in a dreamy state, I gave myself up to 

 the purely sensuous enjoyment of watching his jaws wag, 

 and so fell asleep. 



We were now nearing Sydney, Cape Breton, and we be- 

 gan to pass fishing schooners whose occupants eyed our 

 swarming vessel with amazement. We must have resem- 

 bled a pirate crew with numberless captives. At length, 

 after a memorable voyage of fifteen days, we entered once 

 more the fine harbor of Sydney. It was a wild, unshaved, 

 unkept party of men that rushed upon Sydney's shore that 

 day, but a most hilarious and joyous one. A dinner at the 

 Sydney Hotel was arranged for all hands in the evening, 

 and it was a motley and hungry gang that marched through 

 Sydney to a haven of rest and plenty. Many of the party 

 were decked out in yellow oil-skins which had seen much 

 service, so that from a distance they looked not unlike a 

 flock of dirty canary birds. Others were arrayed in a 



291 



