Beard's--things are all in order now. I would be glad of something to
do.' Bless the old woman! She overhauled my outfit for me, and meantime
I read for the first time _Sartor Resartus_ and Burnaby's _Ride to
Khiva_. I didn't understand much of the first then; but I remember I
preferred the soldier to the philosopher at the time; a preference
which life has only confirmed. One was a man, and the other was either
more--or less. However, they are both dead, and Mrs. Beard is dead, and
youth, strength, genius, thoughts, achievements, simple hearts--all dies
. . . . No matter.

"They loaded us at last. We shipped a crew. Eight able seamen and two
boys. We hauled off one evening to the buoys at the dock-gates, ready to
go out, and with a fair prospect of beginning the voyage next day. Mrs.
Beard was to start for home by a late train. When the ship was fast
we went to tea. We sat rather silent through the meal--Mahon, the old
couple, and I. I finished first, and slipped away for a smoke, my cabin
being in a deck-house just against the poop. It was high water, blowing
fresh with a drizzle; the double dock-gates were opened, and the steam
colliers were going in and out in the darkness with their lights burning
bright, a great plashing of propellers, rattling of winches, and a lot
of hailing on the pier-heads. I watched the procession of head-lights
gliding high and of green lights gliding low in the night, when suddenly
a red gleam flashed at me, vanished, came into view again, and remained.
The fore-end of a steamer loomed up close. I shouted down the cabin,
'Come up, quick!' and then heard a startled voice saying afar in the
dark, 'Stop her, sir.' A bell jingled. Another voice cried warningly,
'We are going right into that barque, sir.' The answer to this was a
gruff 'All right,' and the next thing was a heavy crash as the steamer
struck a glancing blow with the bluff of her bow about our fore-rigging.
There was a moment of confusion, yelling, and running about. Steam