Morgan Robertson

“ Dorsey stretched his head and half his body through the pilot-house window, and shouted in reply: "Our engine's running away with us—lever's broken. We'll pull our fires outside."
The officer doubted, but hesitated, and the "Avon" shot by at a fifteen-knot rate. Dorsey edged up into the cutter's wake, and by keeping her masts in line, avoided, for awhile, her fire; for she was a revenue cutter, built to pursue, not to flee; hence none of her guns could be trained over the stern. Was ever dignified government craft caught in a more undignified position? ”

“ You're not a bewildering success as a cook, but I'll admit you were a well-behaved man until lately. The fireman swears you're crazy." The grinning captain said nothing of his own doubts on this point.
"Jack Shiven," repeated Dorsey; "yes, that's what he called me. But, Captain, I meant the 'Petrel'—when she was taken—it was last week to me—but they tell me it's thirty years back—when you were 'fore the mast and I was mate; what happened? Where'd I go?"
"Wha-at?" exclaimed the captain, springing up; "you Mr. Dorsey? Not much! I'd know him with wings on." ”

“ The boat was fastened to the stern by the painter, and the cook, who had been awakened by the unusual proceedings, obeyed orders.
Then, leaving the dark man on the bridge to watch the horizon, and a negro fireman in the boiler-room to keep up steam, every other man in the crew from the captain to the mess-boy went ashore in the next boat, for the last and hardest lift of all. A large shell-gun, too heavy for one boat, was to be carried off on a temporary deck covering two. ”

“ It's our only chance. D'you want to end your days in a Yankee prison? Bear a hand, or you will—that is, unless you want to swim." The Cuban glanced at three dorsal fins alongside toward which Dorsey pointed, and took the flags. He had watched the friction at the hatch with as much amusement as would mingle with his apprehension of arrest. But this masterful, methodical lunatic, who had given such forceful instructions to the fireman, and who now seemed to have the International Signal Code in his head, was the same smiling imbecile who could not scull a boat. ”

“ And this!" he exclaimed; he had felt of his beard. "Say, Mister Man, am I dead or alive, or asleep, or crazy? Who am I?"
"I believe you are the cook of this boat, in a sad condition of mind," said the Cuban dryly, more interested now in the approaching cutter.
"Cook! I'm mate, if I'm anything," spluttered Dorsey, the sailor in him aroused by the affront. Yet the terror in his eyes might have indicated his doubts that he was anything.
The vessel outside had stopped her engines at the mouth of the inlet, and now sent another and better-aimed shot across the "Avon's" stern. ”

“ Yet you can navigate. Can't scull a boat ashore, but can run an engine, and steal a big steamer?"
He gave Dorsey a gentle shake. The next moment he was seated on the deck a dozen feet away, rubbing a smarting spot on his chest about as large as Dorsey's fist—which fist, as unused to such collisions as Dorsey was to being shaken, was also being rubbed. In his incomplete correspondence with his environment, he was still the mate of the "Petrel," dealing with an insolent member of her crew; for time had touched lightly the captain of the "Avon," and Dorsey recognized him as his old shipmate. ”

“ How many pounds?"
"Wha' dat?"
The fireman got no farther. Dorsey's fingers gripped his throat, and in a second he was sprawled backward over the hatch-combing. Squeezing hard for a moment, the infuriated questioner again demanded: "What steam you got?"
"Fifty pounds, Jack," gurgled the negro; "le' go; wha' yo' want?" ”

“ At this work they were engaged when daylight broke; and with its coming appeared, outside the barrier and heading for the inlet, the revenue cutter that had followed them, with ports open, guns showing, and at her gaff-end a string of small flags which, in the silent Volapük of the sea, said: "Get under way as fast as you can." ”

“ No man on earth but John Dorsey would have got by that cutter. Why, it was a miracle, that's what it was. Takes blockadin' to develop a man. I s'pose old times brought you round. Yes, don't you know? You was stunned and couldn't remember. And you've seen your mother. I'd give this boat to have been at that meeting. Thirty long years, winter and summer, she's sat on those rocks, waiting for you, Mr. Dorsey, and now you've come!" The captain was winking hard. "Come below, Mr. Dorsey. There's only one thing that fits this occasion. If you'd smashed more furniture, you'd ha' found it. ”

“ An inner sub-consciousness directed necessary physiological functions, and he lived and gained flesh. But, though far below the level of brutes in intellect, he differed from them and idiots in his capacity for improvement. ”