the china castle! she had been a wonderful ship in her day, a bath-built clipper. john hawkins, husband of keturah hawkins, uncle by marriage of keturah smiley, had been the first master of her; captain vanton had come to her cabin much later, in the days of[75] her decline. it was john hawkins and not buel vanton who had made the passage from new york to honolulu in 90 days. young tom lupton had not known or remembered the name of the three skysail-yarder whose glory descended upon every master who trod her quarterdeck. only a few persons in blue port, indeed, recalled anything when they heard that captain vanton had been master of the china castle. “eh?” said these old fogies to each other. “she was john hawkins’s ship!” this captain vanton could not, of course, have been the mariner that john hawkins was, for captain john had sailed his fine, fast vessel to california, making quick passages, and afterward took her into the china trade for which she had been built. nevertheless, out of a sense of politeness, these oldtimers had, on one occasion or another, attempted to address captain vanton; it was a sort of duty to let him know that he was not a total stranger in blue port. no man could have a better sponsor than a ship john hawkins had sailed. they were frozen by captain vanton’s hard stare. at the mention of the china castle he merely looked through their eyes and out the backs of their heads and into the bar of the roncador house. at the various polite and hearty references to “cap’n john hawkins” he had but one course of behaviour: uttering a loud “humph!” he would turn squarely on his heel, and lurch away evenly in the opposite direction.

[76]an exasperating man; did he think himself above everybody ashore, as if he were still the master of a vessel? be hornswoggled if we’d go out of our way again to speak to such an uncivil devil. he could take his money and his pindling boy and his sick wife—she always appeared to be just convalescing—and shut himself up in his expensive house and be hanged to him. why, cap’n john hawkins!—and then the oldtimers would go off into reminiscences all wool, a yard wide and the afternoon long, sitting about the stove in the store and postoffice in winter or in back-tilted chairs on the store porch in summer. when captain vanton came in for his mail there was a momentary silence, faces were carefully averted, and tobacco juice was sprinkled on the floor.

buel vanton never noticed the idlers. he never noticed anybody. therefore mermaid was stricken almost mute with astonishment one day when, answering a peremptory rap at the door, not the side front door, but the frontest front door leading into the small hall that gave into the front parlour, she opened it to find the bulky form of captain vanton standing before her. as usual he did not look at her, but merely asked in a loud, hard voice if this had been john hawkins’s house. mermaid affirmed it; he then asked if her mother were in.

“miss smiley is in. she is not my mother. i just live with her,” the girl replied. captain vanton made[77] no response, but as he continued to stand there she added, “i will call her.”

she did not invite him to enter, and as she went in search of keturah smiley she murmured to herself, “rude old man! she can ask him in, i won’t!”

keturah smiley, summoned, confronted the visitor and asked abruptly, “you wish to see me?”

captain vanton did not indicate whether he did or not. his eyes dropped for the merest instant and he replied: “i was told this was john hawkins’s house.”

“it was in his lifetime,” said keturah, shortly. “he was my uncle,” she added. “mother’s sister’s husband.”

captain vanton made no reply. he said, as if it were relevant: “i commanded the china castle after he left her. some time after,” he added. “did he ever speak of a man named king?” and now he looked keturah smiley straight in the eyes. keturah gave his stare back.

“king?” she rasped. “i can’t say he did, and i can’t say he didn’t. what king?”

“first officer, boston to shanghai, third voyage,” answered buel vanton in his hard, uninflected tones. “triced up by the thumbs and flogged before the crew by captain hawkins’s orders. first officer, too! insulted mrs. hawkins.”

keturah smiley’s face settled into its severest lines.

“you’re likely mistaken,” she said with a bite in her[78] words. “captain hawkins would never have flogged a man for that: he’d have killed him!”

“did almost. killing too easy. better to flog. torture,” declared buel vanton, reflectively. “afterward captain king. knew him in san francisco. retired. devil. swore he’d get even. then captain hawkins died. king heard of it. near crazy. i’ve come to tell you he’s dead!”

“dead?” echoed keturah smiley, who had become slightly confused by the visitor’s elliptical language. “captain hawkins is dead. of course he’s dead, what of it?”

“not hawkins, king!” barked captain vanton from his impassive face framed in the spreading sidewhiskers. “he’s done you all the harm he ever will. all of you. he’s dead. ‘the king is dead. long live the king!”’ he uttered a harsh sound, a bitter laugh. turning squarely about he started off the porch and away from the house. keturah smiley, who had been eyeing him with amazement, suddenly called after him, “how do you know he’s dead?”

captain vanton half turned his head.

“killed him myself,” he declared abruptly, and lurched away.