OF THE SOUTH SEAS 171 



mate was a bucko, a slugger, according to Steve, and 

 was hated by all, for most of them during the throes 

 of seasickness had had a taste of his fists. 



On the seventy-second day out the El Dorado was 

 twenty-seven hundred miles off the coast of Chile, hav- 

 ing run a swelling semicircle to get the benefit of the 

 southeast trades, and being far south of Antofagasta. 

 That was the way of the wind, which forced a ship from 

 Oregon to Chile to swing far out from the coast, and 

 make a deep southward dip before catching the south- 

 west trades, which would likely stay by her to her port 

 of discharge. 



They had sailed on a Friday, and on Wednesday, the 

 eleventh of the third month following, their real troubles 

 began. Steve's diary, as interpreted by him, after the 

 foregoing, was substantially as follows, the color being 

 all his : 



"From the day we sailed we were at the pumps for 

 two weeks to bale the old tub out. Then she swelled, 

 and the seams became tight. There was bad weather 

 from the time we crossed the Astoria bar. The old 

 man would carry on because he was in a hurry to make 

 a good run. The mate used to beat us, and it 's a won- 

 der we did n't kill him. We used to lie awake in our 

 watch below and think of what we 'd do to him when 

 we got him ashore. All the men were sore on him. 

 He cursed us all the time, and the captain said nothing. 

 You can't hit back, you know. He would strike us and 

 kick us for fun. I felt sure he 'd be murdered ; but 

 when we got into difficulty and could have tossed him 

 over, we never made a motion. 



"On the seventy-third day out, came the terror. The 



