notorious of the latter class was the person whom I shall attempt to describe in the following pages - Captain George Antle.

Such a terror was George Antle, not only to the whole ship's company which he commanded, but to all who had any dealings with him, that he became proverbial, and to be called 'a regular Antle" was considered anything but complimentary. He was a man with a temper so quick, uncertain, and violent, that a word or even a glance was often sufficient to rouse his ire; and then, as the almanac reads, "look out for squalls."

A stalwart sailor, with fierce, gray-green eyes deep set in a square face covered with tawny hair, his aspect, when excited, was that of a lion, a blow from whose "paw" would prove fatal to the strongest. Even the wind of this formidable weapon was sufficiently paralyzing as it swung past the retreating nose of his antagonist.

"Feared and hated by all," I presume you expect me to add. By no means. Feared, possibly, by some; but scarcely hated, because, to give Antle his due, he was possessed of a manly, generous nature, and many of his worst exhibitions of passion were in defense of others' rights rather than his own. When once roused, however, it was best not to cross his path or permit anything of a movable description, such as a chair or table, to stand in his way; for it would inevitably need repairs, if enough of the fragments could be found to make it worth while.

How a wife might have fared at his hands can only be

conjectured, as no woman, up to the date of the reader's introduction to him, seems to have cared to run the risk. Possibly the captain's own good sense may have forewarned him of the "failure" of any such alliance.

As a master-mariner, however, no abler man than Captain Antle sailed out of port or trod a quarter-deck. Of his voyages, he seldom or ever made a failure; and his ship, the Saucy Lass," had the credit of being always the most successful of the fleet.

In spite of Antle's reputation as a martinet and "terror to evil doers," he rarely had any great difficulty in procuring a crew, and a good one, too; for everyone knew that his men were well fed, well cared for, and, if they deserved it, well treated. But, all the same, from cabin-boy up to cook, nay, up to first mate, all were liable to feel, at some time or other during the voyage, the wind of the captain's fist or the lash of his tongue.

That he loved his grog and his pipe goes without saying, for he was a thorough jack-tar, even in his vices; nor did he expect others, landsmen or sailors, to be any better than himself. In fact, he had the broadest toleration for everything except incompetence, duplicity, and meanness, these failings he would not put up with from anyone, and hence many of his wildest explosions.

In spite of the inevitable "damages" that strewed his path, like that of a cyclone, Antle was so valuable a man that his employers never found themselves in a position to dispense with his services. Two things, to be sure, they would have

liked; namely, to procure another master equally as capable, or to have had Antle made over, with his bad temper omitted from the composition. As neither of these events seemed within the limits of probability, they had to endure the necessary evil as patiently as possible.

The present scribe was one of the younger book-keepers of the firm for which Antle sailed, and though brought in contact with him more frequently, perhaps, than any other of the men in the establishment, yet, strange to say, the captain always treated me kindly, notwithstanding the fact that we often had to adjust differences and untie knots which would be trying to even much less excitable tempers. But whether it was my simple tactics or his greater consideration for a youngster who was so evidently doing his best to serve him, I know not; at all events, Antle and I were always on the best of terms, and never did he return from a trip without remembering me in the shape of some curious or useful nick-nack. In his rough, leonine way, I believe he had quite a paternal affection for me, and was certainly more confidential as to his personal history and experience than to any other man living.

One day early in the winter, just as the "Saucy Lass was about to throw her parting kiss at the port, the captain fell on the icy sidewalk and broke his leg. Of course, another master had to take his place; and so, for the first time in years, the "Saucy Lass" sailed without Antle's burly form on the quarter-deck.

In fact, he never again occupied that proud position, for

the simple reason that never again did the "Saucy Lass" enter the port. She was never seen or heard of from that day, and was supposed to have foundered or come in contact with one of the huge icebergs which, that season, happened to be unusually abundant in the track of navigation.

I was one of the first of our men to visit the poor fellow after his mishap, when I found him comfortably cared for at his lodgings; for, as I have already intimated, the captain was a bachelor, and with no relative this side the Atlantic.

To say that he chafed like a caged lion at his enforced confinement was only what might have been expected from a man of his temperament and occupation. Indeed, I was not a little surprised to find him bearing up as patiently as he did, under the circumstances. It seemed as though he had exhausted his vocabulary and hadn't another expletive to fling at fate, or the calamity was so great that ordinary imprecations could not possibly do justice to it. At any rate, I was glad to find the terrible old salt so comparatively tranquil, and promised to come as often as I could spare the time, and do my best to relieve the tedium of his long hours and weary vigils.

But I reckoned without my host; for, in a few days after that, I was laid up myself. The captain's physician, Dr. Molloy, who was also mine for the occasion--a skilful enough practitioner when not too much under the influence of drink-informed me, to my great satisfaction, that I was threatened with pneumonia, and recommended me to "pack off home to my mother as fast as my legs could carry me."

My home was in a suburban town, a few miles from the port; and so, bidding the captain a hasty good-bye, I covered the distance as speedily as possible.

I was a remarkably nervous youth, and, supposing every sickness to be my last, I never expected to see my old friend, the captain, again in the flesh. I would like to have taken him with me to my pleasant home, where the kindest of mothers would soon have nursed the pair of us back to health, as she did me in rather less than eight weeks, though assured by our family physician that I had a "tight squeak' for my life, and that I should have to take good care of myself in future.

And so, once more, I set my face in the direction of the port, rejoicing in my new lease of life and eager to rejoin my old companions, who, indeed, had not forgotten me during my illness, but kept me fairly posted in all the more important occurrences of the day.

But the most astounding piece of intelligence was to be communicated to me by the doctor, whom I met half-way on my journey. Almost my first question was in reference to Captain Antle, from whom the only thing I had heard was that he was "getting along finely."

"I'm sorry to have to tell you," said Molloy, "that poor Antle has gone crazy."

"What! You're surely joking!"

"I wish to heaven I was! I always liked the poor fellow, and many's the good glass of grog and cigar we've had together; but now he won't touch either - not a sniff nor a whiff."