W. T.
I
I DO not know who he is. And neither does old Captain Jim Johnson, who told me about him. We know only his initials. They were tattooed on his right forearm in blue ink and red—a blue anchor with a twist of red rope around the shank, and a red "W" over one fluke and a blue "X" over the other. But what we do know is his remarkable story, and it surely entitles him to a place in these portrait-studies, for it seems to me quite the most distinguished true story that I have run across; and if "W. T." is not himself immortally famous, it is only because he has not met a Eugene Sue to do him as another "Wandering Jew," or a second Coleridge to make another "Ancient Mariner" of him.
Moreover, Captain Johnson has begged me: "Put somethin' about him in the papers, an' if any one comes across 'm, tell 'em to write Cap'n Jim Johnson, Port Derby, eh? I'd like to get th' ol' crocodile back here an' look after 'm. I don't sleep well no more. Gettin' old. An' I—I kind o' bother about him at night. You know."
So, if only to keep my promise to the captain—
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