The north-west trade carried us almost into the south-east trade, and
then left us for several days to roll and swelter in the doldrums.

During this time I have discovered that I have a genius for rifle-
shooting. Mr. Pike swore I must have had long practice; and I
confess I was myself startled by the ease of the thing. Of course,
it's the knack; but one must be so made, I suppose, in order to be
able to acquire the knack.

By the end of half an hour, standing on the heaving deck and shooting
at bottles floating on the rolling swell, I found that I broke each
bottle at the first shot. The supply of empty bottles giving out,
Mr. Pike was so interested that he had the carpenter saw me a lot of
small square blocks of hard wood. These were more satisfactory. A
well-aimed shot threw them out of the water and spinning into the
air, and I could use a single block until it had drifted out of
range. In an hour's time I could, shooting quickly and at short
range, empty my magazine at a block and hit it nine times, and, on
occasion, ten times, out of eleven.

I might not have judged my aptitude as unusual, had I not induced
Miss West and Wada to try their hands. Neither had luck like mine.
I finally persuaded Mr. Pike, and he went behind the wheel-house so
that none of the crew might see how poor a shot he was. He was never
able to hit the mark, and was guilty of the most ludicrous misses.

"I never could get the hang of rifle-shooting," he announced
disgustedly, "but when it comes to close range with a gat I'm right
there. I guess I might as well overhaul mine and limber it up."