Nonneoplastic Dermatopathology 2nd Edition Brian

J. Hall - eBook PDF download

https://ebookluna.com/download/nonneoplastic-dermatopathology-
ebook-pdf/

Download more ebook from https://ebookluna.com

 We believe these products will be a great fit for you. Click
the link to download now, or visit ebookluna.com
to discover even more!

(eBook PDF) Among Cultures 3rd Edition by Bradford J. Hall

https://ebookluna.com/product/ebook-pdf-among-cultures-3rd-edition-by-
bradford-j-hall/

Basic Biomechanics [Team-IRA] 9th Edition Susan J. Hall - eBook PDF

https://ebookluna.com/download/basic-biomechanics-team-ira-ebook-pdf/

(eBook PDF) International Tax Primer 3rd Edition by Brian J. Arnold

https://ebookluna.com/product/ebook-pdf-international-tax-primer-3rd-
edition-by-brian-j-arnold/

(eBook PDF) Audiology Practice Management 3rd Edition by Brian J. Taylor

https://ebookluna.com/product/ebook-pdf-audiology-practice-management-3rd-
edition-by-brian-j-taylor/
Dermatopathology 3rd Edition Dirk Elston - eBook PDF

https://ebookluna.com/download/dermatopathology-ebook-pdf/

Arrhythmia Essentials 2nd Edition Edition Brian Olshansky - eBook PDF

https://ebookluna.com/download/arrhythmia-essentials-ebook-pdf/

(eBook PDF) Abnormal Psychology 2nd Edition by Brian Burke

https://ebookluna.com/product/ebook-pdf-abnormal-psychology-2nd-edition-by-
brian-burke/

Barnhill's Dermatopathology 4th Edition Raymond L. Barnhill (Ed.) - eBook

PDF

https://ebookluna.com/download/barnhills-dermatopathology-ebook-pdf/

Guyton and Hall Textbook of Medical Physiology 13th Edition John E. Hall -
eBook PDF

https://ebookluna.com/download/guyton-and-hall-textbook-of-medical-
physiology-ebook-pdf-3/
 SECOND EDITION

HALL | COCKERELL
CHISHOLM • JESSUP • VANDERGRIFF • MOTAPARTHI • ELSTON
ii
 SECOND EDITION

Brian J. Hall, MD
Dermatopathologist
Utah Pathology Services, Inc.
Adjunct Assistant Professor, Department of Pathology
University of Utah School of Medicine
Salt Lake City, Utah

Clay J. Cockerell, MD
Clinical Professor of Dermatology and Pathology
Director, Division of Dermatopathology
University of Texas Southwestern Medical Center
Dallas, Texas

Cary Chisholm, MD Kiran Motaparthi, MD

Dermatopathologist Assistant Professor
Central Texas Pathology Laboratory Department of Dermatology
Waco, Texas University of Florida College of Medicine
Gainesville, Florida
Chad Jessup, MD, MS
Instructor Dirk M. Elston, MD
Department of Dermatology Professor and Chairman
Massachusetts General Hospital Department of Dermatology and Dermatologic Surgery
Boston, Massachusetts Medical University of South Carolina
Charleston, South Carolina
Travis Vandergriff, MD
Assistant Professor of Dermatology and Pathology
University of Texas Southwestern Medical Center
Dallas, Texas

iii
 1600 John F. Kennedy Blvd.
Ste 1800
Philadelphia, PA 19103-2899

DIAGNOSTIC PATHOLOGY: NONNEOPLASTIC DERMATOPATHOLOGY, SECOND EDITION ISBN: 978-0-323-37713-3

Copyright © 2017 by Elsevier. All rights reserved.

No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including
photocopying, recording, or any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher. Details
on how to seek permission, further information about the Publisher’s permissions policies and our arrangements with organizations
such as the Copyright Clearance Center and the Copyright Licensing Agency, can be found at our website: www.elsevier.com/
permissions.

This book and the individual contributions contained in it are protected under copyright by the Publisher (other than as may be
noted herein).

Notices

Knowledge and best practice in this field are constantly changing. As new research and
experience broaden our understanding, changes in research methods, professional practices,
or medical treatment may become necessary.

Practitioners and researchers must always rely on their own experience and knowledge in
evaluating and using any information, methods, compounds, or experiments described
herein. In using such information or methods they should be mindful of their own safety
and the safety of others, including parties for whom they have a professional responsibility.

With respect to any drug or pharmaceutical products identified, readers are advised to check
the most current information provided (i) on procedures featured or (ii) by the manufacturer
of each product to be administered, to verify the recommended dose or formula, the
method and duration of administration, and contraindications. It is the responsibility of
practitioners, relying on their own experience and knowledge of their patients, to make
diagnoses, to determine dosages and the best treatment for each individual patient, and to
take all appropriate safety precautions.

To the fullest extent of the law, neither the Publisher nor the authors, contributors, or
editors, assume any liability for any injury and/or damage to persons or property as a matter
of products liability, negligence or otherwise, or from any use or operation of any methods,
products, instructions, or ideas contained in the material herein.

Publisher Cataloging-in-Publication Data

Names: Hall, Brian J. (Brian John), 1981-

Title: Diagnostic pathology. Nonneoplastic dermatopathology / [edited by] Brian J. Hall
Other titles: Nonneoplastic dermatopathology.
Description: Second edition. | Salt Lake City, UT : Elsevier, Inc., [2016] | Includes
bibliographical references and index.
Identifiers: ISBN 978-0-323-37713-3
Subjects: LCSH: Skin--Diseases--Diagnosis--Handbooks, manuals, etc. |
MESH: Skin Diseases--pathology--Atlases. | Skin Diseases--diagnosis--Atlases.
Classification: LCC RL105.D53 2016 | NLM WR 17 | DDC 616.5’075--dc23

International Standard Book Number: 978-0-323-37713-3

Cover Designer: Tom M. Olson, BA
Printed in Canada by Friesens, Altona, Manitoba, Canada

Last digit is the print number: 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1

iv
 Dedications
To my wife, Jamie, our Great Dane, Sadie, and all the wonderful, bright, hard-working,
and dedicated authors who I have gotten to know over the years and have the pleasure of
considering my close friends. I also want to thank all the contributors as well as authors for
their selfless giving of images for chapters that were not their own. This book would not be
possible without everyone listed in the table of contents as well as on the contributors page.

BJH

To my wife, Brenda, and children, Charlie and Lily, who have supported me so much
in my life and in my career.

CJC

To my wife and kids, thank you for your unwavering love and support. For all the other
contributors, thank you for your hard work and dedication to produce such a high-quality
dermatopathology text. To me, Brian, and Travis: Strong work you rugged, chiseled gentlemen.

CC

I would like to thank my incredibly loving and supportive wife, Clarissa, whose sacrifices have
allowed me to work on this book. Equally as important, I would like to dedicate this endeavor to
her, my sons, Carter and Clark, as well as the memory of my late parents, Don and Joyce.

CJ

To my mentors and colleagues, who teach me, and to my patients,

who inspire me to keep learning.

TV

v
 Contributing Authors
Patricia J. Alvarez, MD John C. Hall, MD
Dermatologist and Dermatopathologist Dermatologist
Centro Medico Naval St. Luke’s Hospital
Lima, Peru Associate Staff
University of Missouri Kansas City Medical School
Kansas City Free Health Clinic
Francisco Bravo, MD Kansas City, Missouri
Associate Professor of Pathology and Dermatology
Facultad de Medicina Alberto Hurtado
Universidad Peruana Cayetano Heredia Fatima A. Khan, MD
Lima, Peru Medical Resident
Department of Internal Medicine
Texas Health Resources
Tiffany Chen, MD Dallas Presbyterian Hospital
Research Associate
Dallas, Texas
Department of Dermatology
University of Texas Southwestern Medical Center
Dallas, Texas Christine J. Ko, MD
Professor of Dermatology and Pathology
Yale University
Wang L. Cheung, MD, PhD New Haven, Connecticut
Attending Pathologist
Department of Pathology
Orlando Health Martin C. Mihm, Jr., MD
Orlando, Florida Professor of Pathology and Dermatology
Harvard Medical School
Director of Melanoma Program, Dermatology
George R. Collins, DO Brigham and Women’s Hospital
Dermatopathologist and Cytopathologist
Co-Director of Melanoma Program
Dominion Pathology Associates
Dana-Farber and Brigham and Women’s Cancer Center
Roanoke, Virginia
Boston, Massachusetts

David J. DiCaudo, MD Annie O. Morrison, MD

Associate Professor
Dermatopathology Fellow
Departments of Dermatology and
Department of Dermatology
Laboratory Medicine & Pathology
University of Texas Southwestern Medical Center
Mayo Clinic College of Medicine
Cockerell Dermatopathology
Scottsdale, Arizona
Dallas, Texas

Garth Fraga, MD Christie Riemer, BS

Associate Professor of Pathology and Dermatology
MS4 (4th Year Medical Student)
University of Kansas School of Medicine
Michigan State University College of Human Medicine
Kansas City, Kansas
Grand Rapids, Michigan

Gretchen W. Frieling, MD Bruce R. Smoller, MD

Dermatopathologist
Professor and Chair, Department of Pathology
Miraca Life Sciences
Professor, Department of Dermatology
Newton, Massachusetts
University of Rochester School of
Medicine and Dentistry
Rochester, New York

vi
 Joseph Susa, DO Andrew Walls, MD
Fellowship Program Director Dermatology Resident
Department of Dermatology Harvard Combined Dermatology Residency
University of Texas Southwestern Medical Center Boston, Massachusetts
Dallas, Texas
Talley Whang, MD
Connie V. Tran, BA Dermatologist and Dermatopathologist
Medical Student Dermatology Center of Southern Indiana
Texas A&M University, College of Medicine Bloomington, Indiana
Bryan, Texas Volunteer Faculty
Indiana University School of Medicine
Indianapolis, Indiana

Additional Contributors
Malak Abedalthagafi, MD Susan Müller, DMD, MS
Kajsa Affolter, MD Khang Nguyen, MS
David S. Cassarino, MD, PhD Michael W. Peterson, DO
Jessica M. Comstock, MD Eleanor Russell-Goldman, MD, PhD
Gonzalo De Toro, MD Chandra N. Smart, MD
Senait Dyson, MD Emma Taylor, MD
Carly A. Elston, MD Viseslav Tonkovic-Capin, MD
Tammie Ferringer, MD Diane L. Wang, BSc
Larissa V. Furtado, MD Noelle Williams, MD
Sudeep Gaudi, MD Aparche Yang, MD
L. David Hall, MD
Julie E. Jackson, MD
Michelle Lucero Jackson, MD
Sharon Jacob, MD
Dražen M. Jukić, MD, PhD
Atsuko Kodama, MD
Irina Margaritescu, MD, DipRCPath
Danny A. Milner, Jr., MD, MSc
Elizabeth A. Montgomery, MD
Cornelia S. L. Müller, MD

vii
viii
Image Contributors
Nnenna Agim, MD Bhushan Madke, MBBS, MD
Richard J. Antaya, MD Mac Mahan, MD
Steven Billings, MD Brian M. Matthys, DO
Jyotirmay Biswas, MD Timothy H. McCalmont, MD
Anneli R. Bowen, MD Amy McClung, MD
Lisa Mask Bull, MD Martha McCollough, MD
Romana Ceovic, MD, PhD Samuel L. Moschella, MD
Marsha L. Chaffins, MD Thaddeus W. Mully, MD
Joanna Chan, MD Rosalynn M. Nazarian, MD
Stephanie Chan, MD Elan M. Newman, MD
Melvin Chiu, MD, MPH Amy Jo Nopper, MD
Cheryl Coffin, MD Amit Pandya, MD
Lisa M. Cohen, MD Karen Paucar, MD
Jaime Cok, MD Howard Pride, MD
Landon W. Coleman, MD Bobbi Pritt, MD, MSc, DTMH
Joseph D. Conlon, MD Yousuf Qureshi, MD
Mariana C. Costa, MD Cesar Ramos, MD
Abdul Hafeez Diwan, MD, PhD Marcia Ramos-e-Silva, MD, PhD
Sunil Dogra, MD Scott M. Ravis, MD
Arturo Dominguez, MD Charles Rhoades, MD
Keith L. Duffy, MD Deanne Mraz Robinson, MD
Senait W. Dyson, MD Cecilia M. Rosales, MD
Aleksander Dzamic, MD Ilana Rosman, MD
Gary L. Ellis, DDS Beth S. Ruben, MD
Jürgen Ervens, MD, DMD Cesar Salinas, MD
Sebastien de Feraudy, MD Peter Sarantopoulos, MD
Scott R. Florell, MD David M. Scollard, MD, PhD
Nima Gharavi, MD, PhD Harleen K. Sidhu, MD
Analisa V. Halpern, MD Theresa Sofarelli, PA-C
Ronald M. Harris, MD, MPH Paul M. Southern, Jr., MD, DTMH
Paul B. Hillesheim, DO Carole Stanford, MD
Sylvia Hsu, MD James W. Steger, MD
Kathie Huang, MD Gabriela Strauch, MD
H. Ray Jalian, MD Ki-Young Suh, MD
Richard Allen Johnson, MD Amanda Tauscher, MD
David Kaplan, MD Lester D. R. Thompson, MD
Thelda Kestenbaum, MD Michele Thompson, MD
Kevin Kia, MD Sheryll L. Vanderhooft, MD
Erik W. Kraus, MD Richard Wang, MD, PhD
Zelika Kumakawa, MD Kalman Watsky, MD
Lester J. Layfield, MD Lindsay Wilson, MD
Philip E. LeBoit, MD Sook-Bin Woo, DMD, MMSc
Kristin M. Leiferman, MD Scott Worswick, MD
Evelyn Lilly, MD John M. Wright, DDS, MS
Peter A. Lio, MD Jashin Wu, MD
Adam D. Lipworth, MD Clarissa Yang, MD
Daniel S. Loo, MD Holly Zhou, MD

ix
x
 Preface
Nonneoplastic dermatopathology is sometimes seen as one of the most difficult parts of pathology
residency training, and it can represent a very confusing subject for the general pathologist who
does not see these types of cases on a regular basis. Part of the difficulty is due to the importance
of clinical correlation. Although important in all of medicine, clinicopathologic correlation may
be most important in nonneoplastic dermatopathology, as clinically striking lesions can have near
normal histologic findings, and prominent histologic changes may lead to less than impressive clinical
manifestations. Moreover, many clinical entities are not often seen or taught outside of a specific
rotation in dermatology or dermatopathology.

Diagnostic Pathology: Nonneoplastic Dermatopathology, Second Edition therefore includes clinical images
of nearly all the entities discussed, 250 in all (with approximately 90 new entities in this second edition).
We hope that in-training and practicing pathologists will gain a better understanding of the clinical and
histopathologic appearance of these lesions and, more importantly, their major histologic and clinical
differential diagnoses.

We also anticipate that dermatologists and dermatopathologists can benefit from this book. Classic
histologic images highlight the most important findings, allowing more confident diagnoses and
histologic differential diagnoses. This book can also be used as a great study aid for fellows studying
for their dermatopathology boards. The quality of the more than 1,500 clinical and histologic images
in this book is not easily matched, thanks to the many contributing authors and the work of the
image editors at Elsevier.

The book is organized into major histologic reaction patterns &/or disease categories. Within
each section, we have attempted to organize entities in order of decreasing frequency usually
encountered in general practice. We have also added numerous entities in this second edition in the
hopes of producing a more consummate tome.

Our hope is to make the confusing subject of inflammatory dermatopathology much easier to
comprehend and master, such that no important diagnoses will be easily overlooked or missed,
therefore, improving patient care whether offered by pathologists or dermatologists. The eBook
version of this book, Expert Consult, makes Diagnostic Pathology: Nonneoplastic Dermatopathology a
comprehensive and easily searchable reference.

Brian J. Hall, MD
Dermatopathologist
Utah Pathology Services, Inc.
Adjunct Assistant Professor, Department of Pathology
University of Utah School of Medicine
Salt Lake City, Utah

xi
xii
Acknowledgments
Text Editors
Arthur G. Gelsinger, MA
Nina I. Bennett, BA
Terry W. Ferrell, MS
Karen E. Concannon, MA, PhD
Matt W. Hoecherl, BS
Tricia L. Cannon, BA

Image Editors
Jeffrey J. Marmorstone, BS
Lisa A. M. Steadman, BS

Illustrations
Laura C. Sesto, MA
Lane R. Bennion, MS
Richard Coombs, MS

Art Direction and Design

Tom M. Olson, BA
Laura C. Sesto, MA

Lead Editor
Lisa A. Gervais, BS

Production Coordinators
Angela M. G. Terry, BA
Rebecca L. Hutchinson, BA
Emily Fassett, BA

xiii
 Sections
SECTION 1: Spongiotic and Psoriasiform Dermatoses

SECTION 2: Lichenoid and Vacuolar Interface Dermatoses

SECTION 3: Vesiculobullous Dermatoses

SECTION 4: Vasculitis, Vasculopathy, and

Perivascular Dermatoses

SECTION 5: Panniculitides

SECTION 6: Connective Tissue/Soft Tissue Diseases

SECTION 7: Degenerative and Perforating Diseases

SECTION 8: Metabolic/Deposition Diseases

SECTION 9: Mucinoses

SECTION 10: Granulomatous Diseases

SECTION 11: Pilosebaceous Diseases

SECTION 12: Alopecias

SECTION 13: Reactions to Drugs

SECTION 14: Disorders of Epidermal
Maturation and Keratinization

SECTION 15: Disorders of Pigmentation

xiv
Discovering Diverse Content Through
Random Scribd Documents
strolled back home, forgetting all about his cousin till he took his
place at the luncheon-table, and felt surprised to see him there,
looking quite cool and as if he had passed the morning reading in
the shade.
There was another surprise for Lance before he left the table, the
squire letting fall the announcement that Captain Barry was going to
dine there at six o'clock that evening.
"So you boys will have to put on your best manners."
"Who's Captain Barry, father?"
"To speak correctly, he is Lieutenant Barry, my boy, and is in
command of the revenue cutter lying on and off. They are giving us
all a good hunt up, for he tells me that there has been a great deal
of smuggling carried on along this coast; but I told him the only
smuggling about here is the smuggling of fish."
Lance felt that the tips of his ears turned hot, and thought that they
must be red. He knew that this was the opportunity for telling all he
had found out, but somehow the words would not come.
The officer was rowed ashore from the cutter that evening, and the
squire had walked down to the tiny harbour, with the two boys, to
meet him, and find him a frank, pleasant, middle-aged man, who,
for some reason, had never been promoted.
He shook hands, and Lance turned scarlet, and then glanced
shoreward, to see that Hezz was busy turning the clumsy boat half
inside the cavern, and that the big trousers and boots were up on
the shelf, while the men inside them seemed to be gazing out to sea
in search of a coming shoal.
The officer was very pleasant and frank during his stay. He chatted
with the boys and asked them if they would like to go to sea; but
somehow he found Lance dull and glum, and the boy's father
bantered him that night after the visitor had gone back to the cutter.
 CHAPTER III
A week had glided by, and fishing was in full progress below the cliff.
Hezz and his people had enclosed a small shoal of mackerel in their
seine, and at another time Lance would have been in the thick of the
business, revelling in seeing the line of corks drawn in closer and
closer till the shoal was dashing about seeking for a way of escape,
before the tuck net was brought to bear, and the arrowy wave and
ripple-marked fish were ladled out in baskets.
Lance had watched the movements of the cutter anxiously while she
stayed off the point; but one fine day she had glided away west with
all sail set to the light breeze, and the boy breathed more freely.
Then the days passed and nothing seemed to happen, except that
when Lance went along the high cliffs, climbing from place to place
till he settled himself down in some snug rift where he could scan
the sea and note what was going on in the cove below, to see if
there was any sign of smuggling, he found that his cousin came
cautiously along no less than three times, and the boy laughed to
himself from his hiding-place.
"He's watching me to see if I go down and join Hezz. How can any
one be such a sneak?"
Lance often mused after this fashion as the days slipped by; but he
kept away from the people down by the cliff, in spite of a wistful look
or two he caught from Hezz, who came up to the house several
times to sell fish.
"No," Lance said firmly, "I haven't told tales; but I won't have
anything to do with smugglers."
One fine afternoon soon after dinner Lance saw his cousin go into
the study and take down a book, rest his head on his hands, and
begin to read.
Lance had followed him to propose that they should go inland and
have a ramble in the woods, but his cousin's action checked him.
"It's of no use," he said; "he wouldn't come."
So the lad went off till he reached one of his favourite look-outs, just
by a rift overgrown with brambles, where, when the tide was up, the
whispering and washing of water could be heard, showing that one
of the many caverns and cracks along the bold coast ran in a great
way.
"Wish I knew which of them belonged to this," he had more than
once said; and upon this particular occasion as he seated himself he
began listening to the strange whispering sounds.
"I meant to have tried to find this out," he said, "along with Hezz.
Why, I did say something about it once, and he only laughed and
said it was a land-spring. Well, I can't get the boat now."
Somehow the place had a strange fascination for him that day, and
after looking about a bit he picked up a piece of mossy granite as
big as his head and pitched it among the bramble growth and ferns
just where the whispering washing sound could be faintly heard.
To his surprise there was the fluttering of wings, and a jackdaw flew
out and away.
"Nest there," he muttered; but his thoughts were divided by hearing
the stone he had pitched down strike heavily, sending up a hollow
sound; and directly after it struck again more loudly, and all was still.
He was in the act of rising to examine the spot, but he sank down
directly, ducking his head behind a great tuft of ragwort.
"Well, he is a sneak," he muttered.
He sat close, and Alfred passed about twenty yards below, going on
cautiously away to the right, and passing out of sight.
Lance sighed, rose, and looked away to the west; but there was no
sign of his cousin, so he walked back home.
The night came on soft and calm, and after sitting reading a bit, and
going over some translation ready for the vicar next day, Lance
looked up, to see that he was alone, so putting away his books he
strolled out on to the big sloping lawn to where he could see the
sea; but it looked quite dark and forbidding, and the stars were half
hidden by a haze. Still it was very pleasant out there, and after a
time he turned to look back at the house with its light or two in the
windows of the ground-floor, while everything else looked black, till
all at once a little window high up in the centre gable of the old
Elizabethan place shone out brightly with a keen steady bluish light
which lasted while he could have counted twenty, and then all was
blacker than ever.
"Why, it's a firework," said Lance to himself. "It must be Alf."
He had hardly thought this when the light shone out again, burned
brightly for a time, and once more went out, leaving the boy
wondering, till it once again blazed out sharply, and left all blacker
than ever.
Lance's mind was just as black and dark, for he could make nothing
of it. Alfred was not likely to be letting off fireworks. What could it
mean?
Coming to the conclusion that his cousin had been amusing himself
in some way or another connected with chemistry, he stood thinking
for a minute and then went in, to find the object of his thoughts
sitting by his aunt's side talking quietly, while the squire seemed
engrossed in a book.
"Well, perhaps you had better," said Mrs. Penwith. "There's nothing
like bed for a bad sick headache."
The boy sighed, said good-night, and went up to his room.
"He had too long a walk to-day," said Mrs. Penwith, "and the sun
upset him. By the way, Lance, your cousin complains about your
being given to avoiding him. Do, pray, put aside all sulkiness and be
more brotherly."
"Why, it is Alf, mother, who never will come out with me."
"There, there, say no more about it," said Mrs. Penwith gently. "You
know I wish you to be brotherly, so do try."
Lance felt too much aggrieved to say anything, and sat in moody
silence till it was bed-time, when he said "good-night" and went to
his own room, thinking the while about those lights.
There he lay, thinking and listening for above an hour, during which
he heard the various sounds in the house of the servants shutting up
and going to bed, and soon after his father and mother's room door
closed, and he settled down to go to sleep.
He might as well have settled down to keep awake, for he turned
and twisted, and got out of bed to drink water, and got in again.
Then he turned the pillow and tried that. Next he threw off the quilt
because he was too hot. And so on, and so on, till he sat up to try
and face the question which haunted his brain: What did those lights
in the little upper window mean?
"It's of no use," said the boy at last. "I shall never go to sleep till I
know." He sprang out of bed and dressed himself, and then stood
thinking. Did he dare go up in the dark to that little room in the roof
and see whether he could find out anything?
Yes; and while the exaltation of brain was upon him, he softly
opened his door, went out into the broad passage, and along it to
the end where the little oak staircase led up to the three attic-like
places in the three gables, rooms that were only used for lumber
and stores.
The boy's heart beat heavily as he went up in his stockings, and
twice over when a board cracked he was ready to rush back to his
room; but he forced himself into going on, and stood at last at the
centre door of the three, feeling that if he hesitated now he should
never do it.

"A signal! came the next moment in

answer."
So pushing the door it yielded, and he nearly darted back, for there
was a peculiar sulphury smell in the dark room.
But Lance had made fireworks in his time, especially blue lights, and
the smell was just the same as that, and he no longer felt scared,
for the thought flashed across his brain that some one had burned
some pieces of blue light there, and if such were the case there
would be something on the window-sill on which they had been
burned.
He stepped boldly in, and there, sure enough, he found what he
expected—a little piece of sheet-iron about half the size of a slate.
But what for?
A signal! came the next moment in answer; and wildly excited now,
he stepped back across the room, descended the stairs and went to
the door of his cousin's chamber, tried the door softly, found it yield,
and entered.
The bed was empty, and quite cold.

CHAPTER IV
A few moments elapsed, and then it was Lance who had turned
quite cold. For his brain was wonderfully active now, as he seemed
to grasp as facts that his cousin had not been watching him on the
cliff, but had found out something about the smugglers and was
watching them. Then, too, he recalled how friendly he had been with
the captain of the revenue cutter, and how they had talked together.
This, then, was the meaning of the signal: Alf had found out
something—of course; a long low chasse-marée had been lying off
that day, he recalled, and the signal lights had been meant for the
cutter, which must have crept in at dusk, and for aught he knew the
King's men might be landing, in answer to the signals, to catch the
fishermen and smugglers in the very act of landing a cargo.
Right or wrong, Lance paused to think no more. It was a time to act
and try and warn his old friends. How could Alf be such a sneak?
Quickly and silently he stepped out and back to his own room, put
on his boots, opened the window and lowered himself down the
heavy trellis, reached the lawn, and ran to get to the zigzag and
reach Old Poltree's cottage on the ledge.
"I'll tell Hezz," he said to himself—"just say the King's men are out,
and then get back."
It is easier to make plans than to carry them out.
When Lance reached the long whitewashed cottage, meaning to
knock till Hezz came to his window, he was caught by a strong hand,
wrenched round, and a hoarse voice said in a whisper—
"Who's this?"
"I—Lance, Mother Poltree. I came to tell you I'm afraid the King's
men are coming to-night."
"Whish!" she said, as she clapped another great hand over his
mouth. "Who told tales—you?"
"No, no, I wouldn't."
"Whish! they're coming," she cried, as she stood listening. "They
came after you."
"I—I didn't know," whispered Lance, as he made out steps
descending the zigzag, showing that he was only just in time, for
whoever it was had been close behind.
"This way," said the old woman sternly, and all thought of retreat
was cut off, for she held the boy's arm firmly and hurried him to the
end of the cottage and across the patch of garden.
 "For there below him, lit up by a few
lanterns, he could make out the hull of
a great lugger."
The way was new to Lance, and thoroughly excited now, he allowed
the sturdy old woman to half guide, half thrust him along, till the
way was so narrow along the steep cliff slope that at her bidding he
went on first, with the consequence that more than once he lost his
footing, and would have fallen from the narrow track but for the help
he received.
At one time they were ascending as if to climb to the cliff top, then
down, and up again, till at the end of a few hundred yards a rift was
reached, down which the old woman hurried the lad, uttering a
peculiar hissing sound the while, which quite changed the aspect of
the scene which had unfolded itself to Lance's astonished gaze. For
there below him, lit up by a few lanterns, he could make out the hull
of a great lugger, lying in the jaws of the rift down which they were
hurrying, while men were wading waist-deep to and fro—those
going out to the lugger's side empty-handed, these coming bearing
bales and kegs, which they carried to a low rocky archway, so low
that it must have been covered when the tide was up, while now
they stooped and passed in their loads to other hands, which seized
them and bore them away.
At the warning hiss uttered by the old fisherwoman the work ceased,
and as a man, evidently the captain, swung himself down into the
water, Old Poltree, his sons, and another man crept out from
beneath the rugged archway.
Few words were spoken. The captain of the lugger gave an order or
two, splashed through the water with his men, and climbed on
board, where the lanterns were extinguished, hitchers and sweeps
thrust forth on either side, and the English fishermen waded out to
put their shoulders to the stern of the boat and help to thrust her
out into the open water.
Their help did not last, for the water deepened rapidly and the great
lugger was well on the move, and unless the boats of the revenue
cutter were waiting for them her safety was assured. The danger
was from the shore for those who had been breaking the laws.
"This your doing, young gen'leman?" growled Old Poltree fiercely,
approaching Lance.
"No!" cried the boy eagerly.
"Nay, no lies, my lad. The French skipper saw three lights, and he
thought it was our doing. You did it to bring 'em on."
"Indeed, no!" cried Lance. "I saw them too, and as soon as I
guessed what it meant I ran down to warn you; didn't I, Mother
Poltree?"
"Iss, my son.—You're wrong, old man, it was t'other youngster. I told
you he was after no good."
"Then it warn't you, Master Lance?" squeaked a voice. "Hooroar!"
"You hold your row, Hezzerer," growled his father; and then quickly,
"Look, they've found the way down. Someun's showing 'em with a
light."
His gruff voice was evidently heard, for from where the dull yellow
light of a horn lantern shone at the top of the gash in the massive
cliff a stern voice shouted—
"Surrender, in the King's name, or we fire."
"Fire away, then," muttered Old Poltree. "Tide'll be up soon. In with
you, my lads. In with you, missus, for you can't get back now."
"Come along, Master Lance," whispered Hezz, who had crept close
to his old companion.
"No, no!" cried Lance, aghast. "I'm not coming with you; I must go
back."
"Nay, my son; you can't now," growled Old Poltree. "In with you;"
and he dragged the boy down into the water and gave him a thrust,
while as Lance indignantly raised his head again to rush back, he
saw by the light of a single lantern held by one of the men that he
was in a spacious water-floored cavern which evidently extended for
some distance; but what interested him most in his awkward
position was the sight of the big old man on one side of the exit, his
eldest son on the other, each armed with a piece of broken oar,
ready to defend the natural door against all comers.
"Right away with that light," growled the old man, and its bearer
splashed through the water farther and farther away.
"Come on, Master Lance," whispered Hezz, catching him by the arm.
"Let go," cried the boy angrily. "I will not be taken with you."
"Nay, you shan't be, young Master Lance," whispered the old
woman. "My Hezz'll show you the way out, while my old man keeps
the sailors back till the tide's up and they can't get in."
"Yes, that's right, Master Lance," whispered Hezz, and the boy
unwillingly followed the lantern-bearer till at the end of a hundred
yards the water had ceased and they were walking over the dry
rocky bottom of the rapidly-contracting cave, where Lance noticed
that a heap of casks and bales had been hurriedly piled up.
And now from behind him there came the shouts of men and the
noise of heavy blows and splashing; but neither of those with him
seemed in the least disturbed, Hezz even chuckling and saying—
"It's all right, old mother; father won't let no one pass. I say, we
shall have to haul you up."
"'Fraid so, my son," said the old woman. "I'm too heavy to clamber
now."
A wild feeling of excitement pervaded Lance all this time, mingled
with indignation at what he mentally called his cousin's treachery.
But he felt better at the thought that he was to escape, for the idea
of being captured with the smugglers was horrible.
And now his attention was taken up by the movements of Hezz,
who, while the man held the lantern up, took a coil of rope from
where it rested on a big stone, thrust his head and one arm through
it, and began to climb up a rugged narrow crack at the end of the
cavern—climbing as if he had been up there before, and soon
disappearing from their view.
But they could hear him plainly enough, his boots grating on the
rock, and his heavy breathing coming whispering down for some
minutes before all was still, but only for the silence to be broken by
a curious rustling sound, and Lance caught sight of the rope
uncoiling as it fell.
"Up with you," said the man with the lantern, and Old Poltree's
second son seized the rope, and by its help climbed up in much less
time than his brother; while Lance longed for his turn to come that
he might hurry away, but felt an unwillingness to go before the
woman with them was saved.
"Come on," was whispered, and the other man gave the lantern to
Mother Poltree, while the shouting and splashing at the cavern
entrance grew fainter.
In a very short time there was another summons from above, but at
this moment they were joined by big Billy Poltree.
"All right, mother," he said. "Mouth's pretty well covered. I'll go next,
so as to help pull you up. They can't get in now."
The man seized the rope, and as he disappeared in the dark crack
Lance thought of the consequences if the King's men came now and
seized them, so that he started round guiltily when he heard a sound
behind him; but it was only the old fisherman.
"Hullo, young squire," he said; "not gone? Well, I'll go next, and
then I can help with you both."
With a display of agility that was wonderful in so old and heavy a
man, he directly after seized the rope and climbed up, leaving Lance
with the old woman, who stood silently holding the lantern and
gazing back.
"Tide's right over the mouth now," she said.
"Is it?" replied Lance; and anxiously, "Pray tell them all, Mother
Poltree, that I didn't betray them. I wouldn't do such a thing."
"Needn't tell 'em, my son," said the old woman. "No one would
believe it of you. But it's a bad job for us if they catch my folk. It
means sending 'em across the seas. Now, then, up with you, quick;
and then I'll dowse the light."
"No, you first," said Lance.
"Nay, my son, you. Don't waste time. They ought to be making for
the moors by now."
Lance seized the rope and climbed actively, finding plenty of
foothold, and soon after reaching the open air in the spot which he
felt sure was where he had heard the splashing and thrown down
the stone.
"Now quick, boys," whispered Old Poltree. "She's got the rope fast
round her I can feel. Haul steady; give her time; and then we must
make for the hills. They won't hurt the women."
"Quick! this way; I can hear them," cried a familiar voice out of the
darkness, and from two ways there was a rush of footsteps and a
scrambling sound.
Lance made a dart to dash away, but some one flung his arms about
him, lifted him from the ground, and rolled with him over and over
amongst the furze and brambles.
"Keep still," whispered a voice in his ear; and he lay quiet, for it was
Hezz listening to the sounds of struggling and pursuit till they died
away, and then he rose.
"Don't say naught to me, Master Lance—I'm too bad; but you keep
close to me and I'll show you how to get back to the big house
without the King's men ketching of you. Quick! here's one of 'em."
This on hearing a hoarse panting, but a voice whispered—
"Hezz!"
"You, mother! Got up?"
"Yes, my son, with all the skin off my hands. Have they got away?"
"I think so, mother. What are you going to do?"
"Get home to tell the girls. And you?"
"See Master Lance safe, and then get hid somewheres till they're all
gone. I shall be all right, and they won't hurt you. Come on, Master
Lance."
No more was said, Lance having his work to do in climbing after his
companion, who led him by what by daylight he would have
considered to be an impossible path; but it ended at the stone wall
which bordered the cliff part of the home grounds, and when he
began to thank his companion he was gone, only a faint rustling as
of a rabbit telling of which way.
Ten minutes later Lance had climbed back to his bedroom window,
closed it, and after regaining his breath he stole out into the passage
to make his way to his cousin's room.
But all was silent there. Alf had not returned.
Lance crept back to his own bedroom, undressed, and lay down to
listen for his cousin's return, undecided as to what he should do.
Nature decided it for him, sending him off fast asleep, wearied out
by his exertions; but before dawn his door was opened and a light
step crossed the floor and paused by his bedside, a low ejaculation
as of astonishment being heard, and then the steps were directed to
the door, which was softly closed.

CHAPTER V
Lance made his appearance at breakfast the next morning rather
late, and as he entered the room, wondering whether his father
knew of the events of the night, he saw at a glance that everything
had come out, for the squire was speaking angrily to Alfred, who
stood before him with his face cut and scratched, and a great piece
of sticking-plaister across one hand.

"Oh," he cried, "there you are, sir!"

"You may have considered it your duty, sir, still I think it was very
dishonourable of Captain Barry to make use of you as his spy
without a word to me; but of course he would know that I should
not countenance such a thing. It is quite time you went away from
home, sir; so prepare yourself, and you will go to one of the big
grammar schools as soon as you can make arrangements. That will
do, sir: I do not want to hear another word. I am a magistrate, and I
want to uphold the law, but all this business seems to me cowardly
and bad.—Oh," he cried, "there you are, sir!"
"Yes, father," said Lance, drawing a deep breath.
"You know, I suppose, that the King's men have found a nest of
smugglers here, under my very nose?"
"Yes, father."
"And you were in bed all night, of course?"
"No, father. I found out by accident that Alf was going to betray
them."
"Betray, eh? And pray how?"
"He burnt blue lights at the top window as a signal to bring the
French lugger ashore."
"Indeed! Worse and worse," cried the squire angrily. "And you, sir—
pray what did you do?"
"Went and told Old Poltree and his lads to look out."
"You did, eh?"
"Yes, father."
"And pray why?"
"Because, father," said the boy boldly, "I thought it was such a
shame."
"You hear this, my dear?" said the squire, turning to Mrs. Penwith.
"Yes, love," said that lady, looking at her son with tearful eyes.
"And I am a magistrate, and my son behaves like this! 'Pon my
word, this is supporting the law with a vengeance. But here's
breakfast. I'll think about it, and see what I ought to do."
But the squire was so taken up with a visit from the commander of
the cutter, which had made its appearance off the point that
morning, and going down and seeing the clearing out of the cave, in
which there was a grand haul for the sailors, that he apparently
forgot to speak to his son. He had no prisoners brought before him,
for the smugglers had all escaped; and when Mrs. Penwith told him
with a troubled face that their two boys had met at the bottom of
the garden, quarrelled, and fought terribly, he only said—
"Which whipped?"
"Lance, my dear. Alfred is terribly knocked about."
"Oh," said the squire, and that was all.
A month passed away before Hezz was seen back at the cottage,
and oddly enough that was the very day on which Alfred said good-
bye to the place and was driven off with his box, his cousin going
with him to the cross roads six miles away, where he was to meet
the Plymouth waggon; and it was on Lance's return that he strolled
to the cliff to look down at the cottage, and saw Hezz below on the
sands once more tarring his boat.

CHAPTER VI
The cliff and the little harbour beneath looked as beautiful as ever;
but there was an element of sadness about the place whenever
Lance went down to see Hezz, for he was pretty sure to encounter
one or other of the sad-faced women busy in some way or another.
There was no playtime for Hezz, whose big, open, boyish face had
grown old and anxious-looking; but he always had a smile and a
look of welcome for Lance whenever he went down, and rushed off
to get the boat ready for a fishing trip somewhere or another.
But these were not pleasure excursions, for as soon as the boat was
pushed off the two lads tugged at the oars or set the sail to run off
to some well-known fishing ground, where they worked away in a
grim earnest way to get together a good maund of fish, a part of
which was always sold up at the "big house," and at a good price
too.
As for the women, they worked hard in their patches of garden, or
went out in couples to bait and lay the lobster pots, or set the
trammel nets, sometimes successfully, more often to come back
empty; but somehow they managed to live and toil on patiently with
a kind of hopeful feeling that one day things would mend.
"Ever see any of the French smugglers now, Hezz?" said Lance to
him one day.
The boy's eyes flashed, and he knit his brows.
"No," he said, in a deep growl, for there had been no squeak in his
voice since the night of the fight; the last boyish sound broke right
away in that struggle, and he seemed to have suddenly developed
into a man. "No," he said, "nor don't want to. If it hadn't been for
them the old man and Billy and t'others would ha' been at home,
'stead o' wandering the wide world over."
"Have you any idea where they are, Hezz?"
The lad looked at him fiercely.
"Want to get 'em took?" he growled.
"Of course," said Lance, smiling. "Just the sort of thing I should do."
"Well, I didn't know," said Hezz.
"Yes, you did," cried Lance. "Want me to kick you for telling a lie?"
"Well, you're a young gent, and young gents do such things. Look at
your cousin."
"Now, just you apologise for what you said, or I'll pitch into you,
Hezz," cried Lance. "Now then: is that the sort of thing I should do if
I knew where the old man and the rest were?"
"No," said Hezz, grinning, "not you."
"Then just you apologise at once."
"Beg your pardon, grant your grace, wish I may die if I do so any
more. That do?"
"Yes, that'll do. Now tell me where they are, just to show me you do
trust me."
"Tell you in a minute, Master Lance," cried the lad earnestly, "but I
don't know a bit. We did hear from a Falmouth boat as some un' had
sin 'em up Middlesbro' way after the herrin'; but that's all, and p'raps
they're all drownded. I say, I'll tell you something, though. What
d'yer think my old woman said about your mother?"
"I don't know. What did she say?"
"Said she was just a hangel, and she didn't know what she should
ha' done all through the stormy time if it hadn't been for her."
"Oh, bother! I didn't want to hear about that," said Lance hurriedly.
"But you ought to hear, and so I telled you. I say, what's gone of
your cousin?"
"Never you mind. What is it to you?" said Lance roughly. "You don't
want to see him again."
"Nay, I don't want to see him, Master Lance, 'cause I might feel
tempted like; and I don't want to run again' him, it might make me
feel mad."
"Ah, well, you won't feel mad, Hezz, for he is never likely to come
back here again. He's at a big school place, and going to college
soon."
"Well, I'm glad he isn't likely to come; not as I should fly out at him,
but Billy's wife right down hates him, and there's the other women
do too, for getting their lads sent away. You see they've the little uns
to keep; and Billy's wife says to me, on'y las' Sunday as we come
back along the cliffs from church with the little gal, 'Hezz,' she says,
and she burst out crying, 'it's like being a lone widow with her man
drowned in a storm, and it's cruel, cruel hard to bear.'"
"And what did you say, Hezz?"
"Nothin', Master Lance. Couldn't say nothing. Made me feel choky
and as if my voice was goin' to break agen; so I give her luttle gal a
pigaback home, and that seemed to do Billy's wife good. Hah, I
should like to see our old man home agen, for it's hard work to
comfort mother sometimes when I come back without my fish, and
she shakes her head at me and says, 'Ah, if your father had been
here!'"
"Poor old lady!" said Lance.
"You see, it's when she's hungry, Master Lance. She don't mean it,
'cause she knows well enough there was times and times when the
old man come back with an empty maund; but then you see she'd
got him, and now it's no fish and no him nayther.—No, I won't,
Master Lance. I didn't say all that for you to be givin' me money
agen."
"Well, I know that, stupid. It's my money, and I shall spend it how I
like. It isn't to buy anything for you, but for you to give to the old
woman."
"Nay, I won't take it. If you want to give it her, give it yourself. I arn't
a beggar.—Yes, I am, Master Lance—about the hungriest beggar I
ever see."
"You take that half-crown and give it to Mother Poltree, or I'll never
speak to you again."
"No, I won't. You give it her."
"I can't, Hezz; she makes so much fuss about it, and kisses me, and
then cries. Seems to do more harm than good."
"I won't take it," growled Hezz, "but you may shove the gashly thing
in my pocket if you like.—Thankye for her, Master Lance; it arn't for
me. And look here, mind, I've got it all chalked down in strokes
behind my bedroom door, and me and Billy and the old man'll pay it
all back agen some day."
"All right, Hezz," said Lance merrily. "You shall; so it's all so much
saved up, and when you do pay it we'll buy a new boat, regular
clinker-built, copper-fastened, and sail and mast."
"That we will, Master Lance," cried the lad eagerly. "One as can sail
too, so's we can hold a rope astern and offer to give t'others a tow. I
say, think the old man will ever come back?"
"I hope so, Hezz."
"Ay, that's what I do—hopes. Sent over the sea, I s'pose, if they
did."
"Oh, don't talk about it, Hezz!" cried Lance bitterly. "Why didn't they
be content with getting a living with the fish?"
Hezz made no reply, but trudged off to the long whitewashed
cottage on the cliff, where as Lance watched he saw Mother Poltree
come out and Hezz hand her the big silver coin with King George's
head on one side.
The result was that the brawny old woman threw her apron over her
face, tore it down again and looked down below, caught sight of the
giver, and began to descend.
But Lance was too quick for her: he took flight and ran below the
cliff, scrambling over the rocks, for it was low tide, and had a
toilsome climb up a dangerous part so as to get back home.

CHAPTER VII
It was one bright spring morning after getting well on with his Latin
reading with the vicar, that Lance thought he would go down to the
cliff and see what luck Hezz had had with the trammel overnight.
Suddenly he stopped short and stood staring down at the cliff shelf,
hardly believing it was true, for there below him in a row stood four
great pairs of stiff flannel trousers in four pairs of heavy fisherman's
boots, just as if the men's wives had put them out in the sunshine
against the old wooden rail to sweeten and dry out some of the
damp salt, in case their wearers should come back.
But Lance Penwith had lived there too long to be deceived by such a
sight as that, and uttering a cry of amazement he began trying to
break his neck by a heavy fall before he arrived safely on the broad
shelf, to yell out, "Ship ahoy!"
Then, and then only, did the biggest and broadest pair of trousers
begin to move, and a great shaggy head turned to show a dark
mahogany face fringed with stiff white hair.
"Come back!" shouted Lance; "and you too, Billy; and you two."
"Master Lahnce, lad!" cried the old man, making a grab at the boy's
hand with one of his huge paws, clapping the other upon it, and
working it up and down slowly as he said, "The old 'ooman's told me
all about it, and I says, humble and thankful like, God bless yer!"
"And so says all on us," chorused his companions.
"That's right, my sons; that's right," growled the old man.
"But you've come back," cried Lance, trying in vain to free his hand,
for the others wanted to shake it, and Billy Poltree had to be content
with the left, while the other men ornamented the boy with fleshly
epaulettes in the shape of a hand apiece on the shoulders.
"Ay, my lad, we've come back," said Old Poltree solemnly, "for it's
weary months and months as we four has been in desert lands up
the eastern parts and up the norrard coasties; but it's allus been
with a long look-out for the native land as we felt as we must see
once more afore we died. We bore it all as long as we could, and
then we said we'd get home and see our wives and bairns, and then
they might take us and send us away across the main, for it arn't
been living, has it, my sons?"
There was a tremendous No! and plenty of answering of eagerly put
questions before Lance could get away and run panting up to where
the squire and his mother were sitting at home.
"They've come back—they've come back!" he shouted, and then he
stood as if struck dumb at the thought of what he had done—raced
off to tell the only magistrate for miles round that the fugitive
smugglers had returned as if to give themselves up.

"Master Lahnce, lad!" cried the old

man, making a grab at the boy's hand.
A few questions followed, and Mrs. Penwith sat gazing anxiously
from husband to son and back again, for the same thought occurred
to her as had flashed upon her boy—"What will he say?" But it was
something quite different from anything they expected.
"Come back, Lance? Yes, you've come back, and the dinner is
getting cold. Come along."
Lance stared.
But his father said something more before they left the table.
"So those smuggling rascals have come back? Well, I always
expected they would. A nice long lesson they've had. Well, knowing
what I do, I shall not take any steps unless I am obliged by pressure
from Falmouth. Then, of course, I must. They are your friends,
Lance, not mine; and I suppose they have quite given up
smuggling."
"Yes, father," cried the boy; "Old Poltree told me, with tears in his
eyes, that if he had known what was to come of it he would never
have touched keg or bale. They'll never smuggle again."
"Let them prove it while they have a chance, my boy; it may tell in
their favour when they are arrested and sent for trial."
"But this is a very out-of-the-way place," he said afterwards to Mrs.
Penwith, "and I don't think any one will trouble them, for the matter
is almost forgotten now."
"But ought you to——"
"Where's that boy?" said the squire, frowning.
Lance had rushed off again to tell his friends on the cliff how his
father had taken their return.
 "BY DEFAULT OF THE ENGINEER"
By FRANKLIN FOX
LATE CAPTAIN P. & O. CO. SERVICE

Author of "Conqueror Compass," "Frank Allreddy's

Fortune," &c. &c.

I
"Ye'll hae the gudeness, Mr. Williams, to be vary parteecular in
having the coals trimmed in the bunkers. I've nae been doon in yon
bunkers mysel', and I hae nae time at this moment to gang there;
but I mind hearin' tell that there's something peculiar about the
construction of them, so I'll thank ye to gie your attention to the
matter, as I maun gang awa' to the office the noo."
Mr. Williams, the second engineer, gave a rather gruff and surly
response to the order of his chief, who immediately afterwards
turned away and went on shore.
I, who was the third officer of the Serampore, upon the main-deck
of which vessel the above colloquy took place, was standing in the
main hatchway attending to the stowage of the cargo, and took but
little heed of the circumstance at the time, though events which took
place subsequently brought it to my mind.
Owing to some derangement of the Company's lines of service in the
Red Sea, it had been necessary to bring forward for immediate duty
the old Serampore, a side-wheeler, which, in consequence of the
recent introduction of screw-steamers into our fleet, was beginning
to be classed amongst the obsolete ones. Orders had been given by
the agent at Bombay, where the ship was lying, to have the vessel
got ready for sea at once and despatched to Aden and Suez, where
her services were required to take the place of another ship in the
regular line of Eastern communication.
The captain, officers, and engineers had all been hurriedly selected
from other vessels and appointed to this ship, the second engineer
having been the only officer in charge while she was laid up. He had
expected, with much confidence, that he would have been made
chief engineer in the event of the ship being wanted again, and, no
doubt, felt a considerable soreness at a chief engineer from another
ship being put over his head.
At this moment the chief officer called out to me—
"Have you got much more room there, Hardy? There are two more
boat-loads of stuff coming alongside now."
"Yes, plenty of room, sir," replied I, and was soon busily engaged in
superintending the safe stowage of boxes of tea, cases of indigo,
and the other articles that composed our cargo. On the upper deck
there was a constant stream of coolies shooting the baskets of coal
down into the bunkers on both sides of the deck, through the small
round holes which had been made for that purpose, and which were
fitted with iron plates for covers let in flush with the deck, when
closed.
From the fact that such a ship as the old paddle-steamer Serampore
was still available for service, it will be readily understood that the
incidents I am about to relate did not happen yesterday. In fact it
was before the days when the Suez Canal was opened; and
consequently, when it was known in Bombay that an extra P. & O.
ship was put upon the berth, several officers and others who had
come from up country, and were waiting for the regular mail to start
to England, seized this opportunity, with the idea of getting a few
more days in Egypt than they would otherwise have been able to
secure.
In due time the Serampore was coaled and her cargo all in, so she
slipped her moorings at Masagon and took up her berth off the
Apollo Bunder, where her passengers were to join her. As it was in
the end of the month of July, we anticipated meeting the south-west
monsoon in its greatest force, and had prepared for this by sending
down all the Serampore's upper spars, lowering the topmasts half-
way down the lower masts, the backstays being "snaked" across and
across the fore and main rigging on both sides, while the fore and
main yards only were kept up aloft, and the trysail gaffs, with their
respective sails.

"A quiet smoke."

The Serampore, as it was the fashion with steam-ships of that
period, had a goodly show of top hamper when she was all a-taunto,
and stripped in the manner which I have just described, she
appeared, in my eyes, to present a melancholy aspect, something
like a skinned rabbit. But as I had only recently been enjoying sea
life as a midshipman in a large sailing-ship, that fact may excuse the
comparison in which I indulged as to her appearance.
We were to sail next morning at nine o'clock, and the evening was
passed by the chief and second officers and myself in a quiet smoke
and a chat about things in general.
"What's the new skipper like, Mr. Urquhart?" said the second officer;
"do you know anything of him?"
"Oh yes," replied the chief officer, "I think he's a very nice fellow."
"What's his name, sir?" said I.
"Skeed," replied the chief officer. "He was in the Navy once. I believe
his nickname there was 'Donkey Skeed.'"
"'Donkey' Skeed?" said I, laughing; "what, on account of anything in
his appearance?"
"Oh no; not on account of his ears," replied the chief, "but on
account of his obstinacy. When he once gets an idea in his head,
nothing in the world will ever knock it out of him."
"Where did you hear all this?" said the second mate.
"Oh, I remember hearing about him at home from a naval man I
knew who was messmate with him on the West Coast."
"Well," said the second officer, "there isn't much to be obstinate
about at present, except fighting the south-west monsoon."
"Exactly," replied Urquhart; "and from what he said to me to-day
that's just the very thing he's got in his head. He's got a new idea,
he says, which he is going to try."
"What is it?" said the second officer and I simultaneously.
"Well, he thinks that, instead of steering a direct course for Aden
right in the teeth of the monsoon, it would be better policy to edge
away across the Arabian Sea on a nor'-west course, making the
monsoon a leading wind, because he declares it his opinion that on
the Arabian coast the monsoon will be either much lighter or have
drawn more to the southward."
"What did you say to that?"
"Oh, I said I thought it might be so, but that we should have to
traverse considerably more distance; to which he replied that the
speed at which the ship would travel under the improved conditions
of weather would make up for that."
"I'm not at all sure about it," said the second officer.
"Nor I," said Mr. Urquhart. "But I believe he's going to try it this
voyage anyhow. Good-night, you fellows; I'm going to turn in."
Early next morning several bunder-boats came alongside. The
bunder-boats of Bombay, I may mention, are the most convenient
water-carriages possible, and very suitable for the wet and blowy
weather prevailing in the monsoon. They are large, roomy boats,
with a covered-in cabin in the after-part, capable of holding four or
five people comfortably. They are rigged with two short masts and a
patémar, or lateen sail, and carry a strong crew. The first
passengers to appear were two ladies, two children, and an ayah.
These proved to be Mrs. Woodruff, her sister Miss Reed, and her two
children, the lady having been ordered home from Allahabad, where
her husband's regiment was stationed, on account of her health. A
captain and subaltern of the same regiment, invalided; then two
officers, Captains Thompson and Shaw, from Poonah, with their
wives, going home on furlough; a professor from the university,
named Spiller; and two more ladies, wives of civil servants, made up
the number. While the fourth officer was busy looking after the
baggage, and before he had well got it out of the gangway, the
quartermaster of the watch called out—
"Look out, sir; captain's coming alongside."
Welcome to our website – the ideal destination for book lovers and
knowledge seekers. With a mission to inspire endlessly, we offer a
vast collection of books, ranging from classic literary works to
specialized publications, self-development books, and children's
literature. Each book is a new journey of discovery, expanding
knowledge and enriching the soul of the reade

Our website is not just a platform for buying books, but a bridge
connecting readers to the timeless values of culture and wisdom. With
an elegant, user-friendly interface and an intelligent search system,
we are committed to providing a quick and convenient shopping
experience. Additionally, our special promotions and home delivery
services ensure that you save time and fully enjoy the joy of reading.

Let us accompany you on the journey of exploring knowledge and

personal growth!

ebookluna.com