from a maddened crowd, she forged slowly through the channel and gained the open sea. Again there came the sound of the lighthouse gun, but now from astern, faintly. Power signed to Cameron to port the helm, and set the telegraph to "Slow." Slow." As the ship swung off, bringing the sea upon the quarter, he gave the order "Steady." Cameron leaned forward, grinning at him through the empty windowframe. The Mate's face was smeared with blood, which dripped from his chin and trickled down the front of his oilskin. Broken glass and water swept from side to side of the wheelhouse floor with the rolling of the ship. Power opened his lips to speak, and the muscles of his face were stiff and set. "I'm all right, sir," said Cameron," a bit of glass caught me when the windows burst in." Power wrung the water from his handkerchief and bound it round the Mate's head. Then he called up the Chief: "How are things with you, Chief . . . all right? . . . bilges clear?... That's good. Keep her just turning over while I take a look round. . . . What? . . . Yes, it was, but by God she's a ship." Power slid down the ladder and went his round. He had not come off scot free. Two scupper doors had been wrenched off, the woodwork of the pound in which the hawser lay coiled was in splinters, but the hawser still in position, VOL. CCXXIV.-NO. MCCCLV. itself was lashed to ring-bolts in the deck. The stern-gratings had vanished and a ventilator was crumpled and flattened against the engine-room casing; but no serious damage had been done. In the engine-room and stokehold all was well. Power returned to the bridge with an easy mind; gave the course N.W. by W., and rang the engines to full speed. He relieved Cameron at the wheel, telling him to go and shift, and to find out whether Wilson had been able to pick up anything more from the Lancastrian. As the ship gained offing from the islands the sea became longer and more regular. From time to time a great wave came thundering down upon the quarter, burying her stern in foam, but she was travelling grandly and her way was never checked. Power glanced at the wheelhouse clock. It was forty minutes since the ship had cleared the overfalls. She was now about nine miles from the Bishop, he reckoned. In about a quarter of an hour he would reach the position. The Lancastrian could not have drifted very far. Presently Cameron returned; he had found the door of the wireless room jammed. Wilson had not been able to get out. The Lancastrian had reported being in collision, not under control. Damage not stated. Power left the wheelhouse and climbed the ladder to the platform overhead, where the standard compass stood. The rain had 02 ceased, ard to the westward Half an hour later Power there seemed to be a lightening was holding the St George in of the sky. The time was up. position under the lee of the He stooped to the voice-pipe Lancastrian. The big ship lay and gave the order, "Course heeled sharply over, almost N.E." The ship's head swung head-on to wind and sea, her until she was running before fo'c'sle awash, and her stern wind and sea. Cameron smiled; raised high above the water. it was what he had expected. As signals passed between the The Skipper would run down ships, it appeared that the the line of drift until he felt collision had torn a hole in the sure that the ship was some- bow, and burst the foremost where to windward of him; bulkhead. So far the second then he would turn, making was holding up. long zigzags across the course by which he had come. The rain was over, but there was more wind than ever. As the light began to fail a faint yellow streak appeared low in the western sky. Power scanned the horizon in every direction. Astern, it was now fairly clear; but to the eastward sky and sea blended in deep gloom. Ten minutes later he altered course to N.N.W. The bow swung round towards a broad band of golden sky in the west against which the piled-up mass and breaking crest of an oncoming wave were sharply defined. Up and up the ship climbed, for a moment she hung poised upon the crest, and then dived steeply into the trough beyond. But in that instant Power had seen the Lancastrian clear-cut against the sky. He glanced at the compass, and as the next sea swept by he caught sight of her again. Starboard. Steady. ." he called, and from below came the answer "Steady. West by North." Power, who had been watching her intently, turned to Cameron saying, "We must tow her stern first, I shall run down under her stern. Take the gun to the fo'c'sle head, and fire the line over her quarter. Have the log-line bent on and lead it aft along the starboard side, clear of everything. Send the five-inch grass over next, and then the wire. Let me know when you are ready." He beckoned to Wilson. "Make will tow you stern-first, prepare to take line your starboard quarter." Power set the telegraph to "Slow ahead" and worked round until the St George lay some half a mile to windward of the big ship. Meanwhile all hands were at work upon the hawser. Cameron and his men, struggling and slipping as the ship rolled, pushed and lifted and slid the great eye-splice, thick as a man's thigh, over the towing bridges to the hook. To the other end of the hawser was shackled the sixty fathom, five-inch wire, and to this the grass rope was made fast. When this was done and the rope coiled down, the log-line was bent on to the grass and two or three men lined the rail, holding the line clear for running. Cameron reported all ready, and taking the gun climbed to the fo'c'sle head. Power waited. He could see the big ship was sheering as she drifted. A few moments before, the flare of lights was clearly visible where her crew were at work upon her stern. Now only two red lights shone dimly above a faint glimmer somewhere about her bridge. Then, as she brought the wind upon the other bow, the lights upon her stern flared out again. If he were to make the attempt now, he would have to take the St George into a position where at any moment the big ship might sheer down upon him before he could get clear. He dared not take the risk. At last the lights became grouped into a cluster and disappeared. Then they blazed out again and separated until he knew that she had finished her sheer. Now was his chance. With the order 'Keep her straight for the lights," he set the telegraph to "Full ahead." For a moment the bow wavered as the St George gathered way. Then, as she steadied, a sea lifted up her stern and hurled her forwards. It seemed as if she must cover the distance in one tremendous rush. Down sank the stern, up and up lifted the bow as the sea roared past the lights were blotted : out as the St George sank deep into the trough. "Starboard a little... Steady" came the orders. The telegraph rang to Slow." Again she began to lift, higher and higher lights blazed out suddenly, right ahead. As she surged along upon the crest, the flank of the great ship rushed by, fifty, forty, twenty feet away. As she reached the quarter Power yelled "Fire . . . Midships," and jerked the telegraph to "Full astern." The sea rushed on, the St George slid back into the trough, swung to starboard, and seemed to stop dead. For a moment Power leaned against the wheelhouse, motionless. The risk had been fearful, but the danger was over, for the big ship began to sheer away. The line, he knew, was passed. He had seen Cameron drop the gun and run aft. If only they did not bungle things on the steamer there would be no hitch, he could trust Cameron for that. At last there came the cry "All fast." He leaned out over the rail and could see the wire, a silver thread against the black hull. He called to the wheelhouse, "Starboard. . . . Slow ahead." As the space between the ships slowly widened the wire came taut and then the splice of the hawser, like the head of a great golden snake, crawled upon the taffrail and dived into the sea. Coil after coil reared up and disappeared. "Stop" was signalled to the engine-room. One by one the coils vanished, and with the last came the order "Slow ship.. That night Power did not leave the bridge. Before long, the wind, with a vicious rain squall, flew into the northwest. Then the weather began to improve. The shift of wind brought the islands close under the lee, but that was all to the good provided the hawser did not part. It meant that the Lancastrian would have been lost, had she not been taken in tow. Power knew how much such a circumstance affects the award in a salvage claim. By midnight the sky was clear, and the ships had reached comparatively smooth water north-east of the islands. From time to time signals passed between them. Power had feared that even if he succeeded in gaining the shelter of the islands, he might have to try to beach the ship in St Mary's Roads. He knew that without the help of another tug he could scarcely hope to guide her safely through St Mary's Sound. But at last the Captain signalled that No. 2 bulkhead was well shored up, and that he thought an attempt to reach Falmouth might be made. Power handed the message to Cameron and turned to the voice-pipe. Captain speakng . . . ask the Chief Engineer to speak to me. . . . Hallo, Chief... A signal from the They have got the shores up and think we can make Falmouth . . . open her up gradually and then drive her for all you're worth. I'll send down some whisky . . let me know when you want some more . . . right, let her have it." Four knots, five, five and a half, little by little the speed increased, until at last, trembling from stem to stern and with steam roaring from the escapes, the St George was almost touching six. The Lancastrian, which at first under Power's gentle handling had towed as sullenly as any vessel could, seemed to recognise a force which she must obey, and followed true as a line in the St George's wake. With a strong flood under them they swept round the Lizard and gained the shelter of the land. Beast Point, Black Head, and the Manacles in turn were passed, and by the Black Rock at the entrance to the harbour the St George slowed down. Fathom by fathom the great hawser was hove on board; and when it had been flaked down, right fore and aft along the deck, the short harbour rope was passed. So the ship, with two more tugs to help in steering her, was brought safe into port. The rope was slipped, and the St George, as if loth to leave her prize, circled slowly round and came to rest alongside. SHAKESPEARE AMONG THE SAMOANS. BY LADY ALICE FERGUSSON. IF asked what well-known daily at that time of the year, name in literature is most often associated with Samoa, I suppose nine people out of ten would reply," R. L. Stevenson," whose four years' residence there bulks so largely in his biographies. My answer since April 1926 would be to give the name of a greater than Stevenson. The Samoans are "passionately fond of Shakespeare." This had been told me, with other characteristics of the people, before I reached Samoa. It is true, though no Samoan has ever read one of his plays, either in the original or translated. Their knowledge of them is derived entirely from Lamb's Tales,' one of the few books translated into their own language. What attracts them, therefore, is the plot of the various plays the dramatic situations and episodes-which make a direct appeal to a simple people with a natural gift for acting. Out of my eight days in Samoa, crowded with colour and experience, the incident that stands out as much as anything else in my memory is the performance of "The Winter's Tale" given in our honour at Apia. It was in the evening of a hot and strenuous day. The blessed trade wind, which blows had fallen, as usual, punctually at sundown. It was still and breathless, but the darkness was restful as we drove down from Vailima (R. L. S.'s old home, now Government House) to the town. Stars swung overhead, brilliant in a black velvet sky, and the swish of little breakers on the beach whispered behind us as we turned in from the sea-front to the big hall which does duty for all the gaieties at Apia-balls, theatres, pictures, and so on. We entered the hall up near the right of the stage. Big doors mercifully stood open at intervals all round the building, which was crowded with Samoans. The seats rose, tier on tier, towards the back. Palm branches decorated the walls everywhere, and swinging balls of frangipane and red hibiscus shone and glowed about the stage, above which was loyally draped the Union Jack. For us, the visitors, a large box had been erected in the middle of the hall. In each seat a fan made of grass ornamented with feathers had been placed a characteristic touch of island courtesy. A sprinkling of Europeans were in the seats in front of us, and among them chiefs, Faipules and their wives, with many of whom we |