The Susquehanna was a big full-rigged clipper ship of three thousand tons. Given a favorable wind, she could show her heels to many a tramp steamer or lumbering freighter, and even not a few of the older liners. She was carrying arms and munitions for the Russians and ran between New York and Vladivostok through the Panama Canal.
If there was one person rough, hard-bitten Bill Woywod had an abiding affection for, it was George Harnash. Whenever his ship dropped anchor in New York the first person-and about the only respectable person-he visited was his boyhood friend. To be sure, there was not much congeniality between them. The only tie that bound them was that boyhood friendship, but both of them were men without kith or kin, and they somehow clung to that association. Woywod was proud of his friendship with the rising young broker, and there was a kind of refreshment in the person of the breezy sailor which Harnash greatly enjoyed, especially as the visits of the seaman were not frequent or long enough to pall upon the New Yorker.
Harnash usually took an afternoon and night off when Woywod arrived. They took in the baseball game at the Polo Grounds, dined thereafter at some table d'hote resort which Harnash would never have affected under ordinary circumstances, but which seemed to Woywod the very height of luxury. Then they repaired to some theatre, usually one of the high-kicking variety avowedly designed for the tired business man, which was extremely congenial to the care-free sailor; and not to go further into details it may be alleged that they had a good time together until far in the night or early in the morning, rather. Harnash was usually not a little ashamed next morning; Woywod, never! With sturdy independence Woywod would alternate being host on these occasions. On land and out of his element he was a fairly agreeable companion in his rough, coarse way. It was only on the ship that he became a brute. In the nature of things the devotion, if such it could be called, was all on Woywod's side. It was an aspiration on his part and a condescension on the part of Harnash, however much the latter strove to disguise it.
The Susquehanna had been loaded to her capacity and beyond with war equipment for the Russian Government and was about to take her departure from New York, when Woywod, who had been prevented before by the duties imposed by the necessity of getting the ship ready quickly for her next long voyage, paid his annual or semi-annual visit to his friend. Now these visits had become so thoroughly a matter of custom that Woywod had established the right of entrance. None of the clerks in the outer office would have thought of stopping him, and although Harnash was very strict in requiring respect for the sanctity of his private office Woywod made no hesitation about entering it unceremoniously.
Like all sailors, he moved with cat-like softness and quickness. He opened the door noiselessly and surprised his friend seated at his desk, his face buried in his hands in an attitude of the deepest dejection. Friendship has a discerning power as well as greater passions.
"Why, George, old boy," began Woywod, laying his hand on the other's shoulder, and that touch gave Harnash the first warning that he was not alone, "what's the matter?"
Harnash looked up quickly, rose to his feet as he recognized his visitor, and grasped him by the hand with a warmth he had not shown in years.
"Bill," he explained, "I'm in the deepest trouble that ever fell on a man, and you come like an angel in time to help me."
Harnash must have meant a dark angel, but Woywod knew nothing of that.
"What is it, old man?" he asked. "If it's money you're needin' I got a shot or two in the locker an'-"
"No, it's not money. I'm making more than ever."
"Been buckin' up agin the law an' want a free passage to safety? Well, me an' old man Fish is as thick as peas in a pod, an' the Susquehanna's at your service."
"It's not that, either."
"What in blazes is it, then?"
"A woman."
"Look here, George," said Woywod, "I'm about as rough as they make 'em an' there ain't no man as ever sailed with me that won't endorse that there statement, but I never done no harm to no woman an' if you've been-"
"You're on the wrong tack again, Bill," interposed Harnash, smiling. "It's a woman I love and who loves me."
"Well, I don't reckon I can help you there unless you want me to be best man at the weddin'."
That suggestion struck Harnash as intensely comical, as it well might, but he hastened to add diplomatically:
"I couldn't wish a better man if there were going to be any wedding, but-"
"Do you love a married woman?" asked Woywod, going directly to the point.
"Not exactly."
"What d'ye mean?"
"I'll explain if you'll only give me a chance," answered Harnash, and in as few words as possible he put the sailor in possession of the facts.
"So you want to get rid of the man, do you?" he asked, when the story had been told.
"Yes. I don't want him harmed. I just want him out of the way."
"And you think that I-"
"If you can't help me I don't know who can."
"Look here, George," said Woywod, earnestly. "Is this square an' above board? Are you givin' me the truth?"
"I am."
"An' the gal loves you an' you love her an' she don't love this other chap which she wants to git out of marryin' him?"
"Right."
"Then it's easy."
"I thought you'd find a way."
"It don't take much schemin' for that. Just p'int him out to me an' git him down on the river front some dark night where I can git a hold of him, with a few drinks in him, an' that'll be all there is to it. You won't hear from him until the Susquehanna gits to Vladivostok, an' mebbe not then."
"I don't want any harm to come to him."
"In course not. I'll use him jest as gentle as I do any man on the ship."
"And he must never know that I-"
"He won't know nothin'. When a man gits drunk enough he can't tell what happens. You might tell yer lady friend that this is a little weddin' present I'm makin' to my oldest an' best friend, that is, if you git spliced afore I gits back from Vladivostok."
"I'll surely let her know your part of the transaction. When does the Susquehanna sail?"
"Thursday morning. Tide turns at two o'clock. We'll git out about four."
"You don't touch anywhere?"
"Not a place unless we're druv to it by bad weather or some accident. But if we do git hold of a cable I'll see that he stays safe aboard, in case, which ain't likely, we're obliged to drop anchor in any civilized port."
"Have you got a wireless aboard?"
"Nary wireless. When we take our departure from Fire Island it's up to Cap'n Fish an' me an' the rest of us to bring her in."
"There's no danger?"
"Well, there's always danger in sailin' the seas, but nobody never thinks nothin' about it with a good ship, well officered, well manned an' well found. It's a damn sight safer than the streets of New York with all them automobiles runnin' on the wind an' by the wind an' across the wind an' every other way at the same time. It's as much as a man's life is worth to try to navigate a street. Never mind the danger. We've got to settle a few little details an' then the thing bein' off your mind we can have a royal good time. You ain't got anything on tonight?"
"No engagement that I can't break. If it had been