black hair was just beginning to gray above his temples, and several lines, caused more by thought than age, scored his lean face.
"What have we picked up, here, anyway?" he demanded. "Stand off, and let me look."
There was not much to see—a child in a green jersey, with blown, damp hair and a white face.
"You tink he's dead?" A big Swede asked the question.
The mate plunged a quick hand inside the green sweater.
"No, he's not. But he's blind. Get out with that stuff, Jolak, what d 'ye think this is? Get me some brandy, somebody."
Jolak retired with the pickled cabbage he had offered as a restorative. No one looked to see where the brandy came from on a ship where none was supposed to be but in the medicine chest. It came, however, without delay, and the mate opened the flask.
"Now," he said, when he had poured some of its contents down the child's throat, and lifted him from the deck, "let me through."
The first thing of which Kirk was conscious was a long, swinging motion, unlike the short roll of the Dutchman. There was also a com-
