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Object-Oriented Thinking

Inheritance and Polymorphism

Exception Handling and Text I/O

Abstract Classes and Interfaces

JavaFX Basics

Event-Driven Programming and Animations

JavaFX UI Controls and Multimedia

Binary I/O

Recursion

Generics

Lists, Stacks, Queues, and Priority Queues

Sets and Maps

Developing Efficient Algorithms

Sorting

Implementing Lists, Stacks, Queues, and Priority Queues

Binary Search Trees

AVL Trees

Hashing

Graphs and Applications

Weighted Graphs and Applications

Aggregate Operations for Collection Streams

Bonus Chapters 31–44 are available from the Companion Website

at www.pearsonhighered.com/liang:

Advanced JavaFX and FXML

Multithreading and Parallel Programming

Networking

Java Database Programming

Advanced Database Programming

Internationalization
Servlets

JavaServer Pages

JavaServer Faces

RMI

Web Services

2-4 Trees and B-Trees

Red-Black Trees

Testing Using JUnit

APPENDIXES

Java Keywords and Reserved Words

The ASCII Character Set

Operator Precedence Chart

Java Modifiers

Special Floating-Point Values

Number Systems

Bitwise Operations

Regular Expressions

Enumerated Types

The Big-O, Big-Omega, and Big-Theta Notations

Other documents randomly have
different content
but my instrument is a quill pen and nice red stamps embossed at
Somerset House.”
“And who will pay the men who are blasting out the ore on the
banks of the river Paramakaboo?”
“Why, really, Mackeller, that is no affair of mine. These industrious
people are employed by the saintly Schwartzbrod. If that astute
financier elects to engage a large body of labor to get out my ore for
me, then I think you will admit, Mackeller, much as you are
prejudiced against him, that he is really the philanthropic benefactor
of his race I have always said he was.”
“But—but—but,” stammered Mackeller, “when they discover how
they have been befooled, there will be a riot.”
“I don’t see that. When I discharge the captain and crew at
Plymouth, I shall have cut the live wire, if I may use an expression
from your absorbing profession. The connecting cable between
those deluded miners in West Africa and the amiable syndicate in
London, will be severed. The captain knows nothing, I take it, of
Schwartzbrod. He was employed by Sparling & Bilge. Going ashore
at Plymouth, out of a job, he would probably look for a ship in that
port, and failing to find one, might journey to his old employers at
Southampton. But, although I discharge the captain, I don’t intend
to turn him adrift. I have already set influences at work which will
secure for him a better boat than the Rajah, and the contented man
will sail away from Plymouth, from London, or from some northern
port, as the case may be. It is not likely that captain, officers, or
crew know the nature of the ore they will be carrying, but I don’t
intend to leave the wire partially cut. I shall provide places on
various ships for officers and crew, and scatter them over the face of
the earth, casting my breadwinners on the waters, as one may say,
hoping they will not return for many days.”
“But when Schwartzbrod hears nothing of the Rajah at whatever
foreign port he ordered her to sail, he will make inquiries of Sparling
& Bilge.”
“I very much doubt that.”
“Why?”
“Because he has chartered their ship, and must either produce the
steamer or renew the charter. That reminds me, for how long a
period was the Rajah engaged?”
“For three months with option of renewal.”
“Good. Toward the end of that time old Schwartzbrod will write to
Sparling & Bilge extending the charter for another three months. He
dare not go to see these shipping men because he has mislaid their
steamship, and does not wish to answer embarrassing questions
regarding her whereabouts.”
“Yes, but Sparling & Bilge will merely reply that they have sold the
Rajah to Lord Stran-leigh, and beg to refer Schwartzbrod to the new
owner.”
“Bravo, Peter. You are actually beginning to get an inkling of Mr.
Schwartzbrod’s dilemma. I had almost despaired of making this clear
to you.”
“Still, I don’t understand the object of cutting the live wire, as you
call it, if you leave another communicating wire intact. You take
great pains to prevent captain or any of the crew meeting
Schwartzbrod, yet you make it inevitable that Schwartzbrod will
learn you are the owner of the Rajah. Perhaps you wish me to
pledge Sparling & Bilge to secrecy?”
“Oh, dear no. I anticipate great pleasure in meeting Mr.
Schwartzbrod. I picture him cringing and bowing and rubbing one
hand over the other as he pleads for a renewal of the charter, and
crawls away from all my inquiries regarding the whereabouts of the
steamer. I will be back in London by the time the syndicate begins to
get uneasy about the Rajah, and I shall renew the charter with the
utmost cheerfulness, without insisting on learning where the Rajah
is. But imagine the somewhat delicate position of a man compelled
to negotiate with me for the hire of a boat to steal my own gold. The
venerable Schwartzbrod will need to keep a close guard on his
tongue or he will give himself away. It is a delicious dilemma. I hope
you comprehend all the possibilities of the situation, but be that as it
may, get you off to Southampton, and when you are done with the
copper mine, report on board my yacht at Plymouth, where you will
find me waiting for you. Then for the blue sea and red carnage if it
is so written. Sixteen men on a dead man’s chest, yo, ho, ho, and a
bottle of champagne, and all that sort of thing, Peter.”
 CHAPTER IV—THE MAGNET OF THE
GOLD FIELD

T
HE young and energetic Mackeller completed his purchase of
the steamer Rajah in something less than three hours, instead
of taking the two days which Lord Stranleigh had allowed him.
It is very easy to buy a ship in Southampton if you happen to have
the money about you. An excellent express on the South Western
line whisked him up to London again, and he spent the afternoon in
securing what he needed for the long voyage that was ahead of him,
dispatching his purchases, as his lordship had directed, to the care
of the yacht at Plymouth. As his acquaintance with Lord Stranleigh
progressed, his first impression of the lord of Wychwood became
considerably modified. In spite of the young nobleman’s airy,
nonchalant manner in speaking of what the young engineer
regarded as serious subjects, Mackeller began slowly to realize that
there was thought and method behind all this persiflage which he so
much disliked, and he began to doubt his theory that Stranleigh’s
successful encounter with the syndicate had been merely a fluke, as,
at first, he had supposed. The plan his lordship so sketchily outlined,
of regaining his own property on the high seas, struck the practical
mind of Mackeller as probably feasible, but although all the legality
would be on his lordship’s side; although his opponents were
engaged in a gigantic scheme of barefaced robbery, nevertheless,
Mackeller had knocked about at the ends of the earth too much to
be ignorant of the fact that in certain quarters of the globe
lawfulness of action was but a minor point in the game. Indeed, the
law-abiding citizen was at a distinct disadvantage unless he held
superior force at his command to compel rather than to persuade.
There is little use in arguing with a man who holds a loaded revolver,
so on one point Lord Stranleigh failed to convince his subordinate.
Mackeller thought it folly to proceed to West Africa with a small body
of men, and no more persuasive ammunition than champagne and
cigarettes. Therefore, in purchasing his own equipment Mackeller
took the precaution of buying a dozen of the latest repeating rifles,
with many thousand cartridges to fit the same, and this battery he
ordered forwarded to the yacht to supplement whatever sporting
guns Lord Stranleigh provided for the gamekeepers and foresters
whom he took with him. Mackeller believed that these would be
stanch, stubborn, capable young men, and although few in number,
they might, if well armed, put the rabble of a hundred and fifty to
flight, should a contest arise.
The dark man who kicked Mackeller downstairs into the hold, and
who afterwards interviewed him alone by lantern light, had
impressed Mackeller as being a capable leader of men, and he would
probably drill his following into some sort of shape during the long
voyage to the south. That the captain, officers, and crew, or any of
the hundred and fifty knew the piratical nature of the expedition,
Mackeller very strongly doubted, but the prompt manner in which
the leader, with his energetic foot, broke the law, and very nearly
broke Mackeller’s neck, convinced the engineer that the dark man
was well aware of the criminal nature of his proceeding, and
undoubtedly, when once the force was landed, he would be very
much on the alert, expecting that as soon as the flight of the
steamer became known, instant arrangements would be made for
pursuit. He would doubtless send out scouts, and endeavor roughly
to understand the lay of the land on which he found himself. It was
morally certain, thought Mackeller, that one or other of those scouts
would ultimately come upon the yacht, no matter how securely they
hid her, and so soon as her presence came to the knowledge of the
strenuous leader of the filibusters, an attack on the yacht was
certain, and her capture or destruction most probable, unless they
could escape quickly to the open sea. So, as Mackeller knew there
were no gun shops along the Paramakaboo River, he took precaution
to make provision beforehand without saying anything to his peace-
loving master. A man whose daily walk is Piccadilly is scarcely in a
position to predict what may happen on the Paramakaboo.
At 9.50 that night Mackeller was in occupation of his most
comfortable little room in the sleeping car of the Penzance express,
and an excellent night’s rest followed his busy day. Seven o’clock
next morning found him at breakfast in Redruth, and so resolutely
did he go about his business that in two days he formed complete
the organization which was to operate the old copper mine. Then he
took train for Plymouth, and was rowed out in the evening to the
white yacht at anchor in the harbor, resting beautiful as a swan on
the placid waters. Mackeller was astonished to find her so great a
boat. She was almost as large as the Rajah, but of much more
dainty shape, her fine lines giving promise of great speed. Thin
cables, extending from slanting mast to slanting mast, he recognized
as the outside paraphernalia for wireless telegraphy, and although
he saw from this that Lord Stranleigh treated himself to the latest
scientific inventions, he was quite unprepared for the quiet luxury
that everywhere met his eye once he was aboard of the yacht.
He found Lord Stranleigh aft, seated in a cane chair, his feet
resting on another. He had been reading the latest evening paper
brought aboard, and he laid this on his knee as he looked lazily up at
his mining engineer.
“Finished with copper, Mackeller?” he asked. “Yes, my lord.”
“I did not expect you before to-morrow night. I imagine, you gave
your disconcerting energy full play down in Cornwall.”
“I have been reasonably busy, my lord.”
“Would you mind pressing that electrical button? It is just out of
my reach.”
Mackeller did so, and a cabin boy immediately put in an
appearance.
 “Go forward, and ask Captain Wilkie if he will be good enough to
allow me a word with him.” Captain Wilkie proved to be a grizzled
old sea-dog of unmistakably Scotch extraction. He rolled aft, and
saluted his owner.
“Everything ready, captain?”
“Everything ready, sir.”
“Very well; up anchor and away.”
The captain went forward and mounted the bridge.
“Draw up your chair, Peter, and let me have your verbal report,
and as you drop into the chair, drop also that appellation ‘my lord.’ If
you want to be extra respectful at any time, say ‘sir’ as the captain
does, and I’ll do the same by you, if you require it.”
Mackeller gave him a full account of his occupation during the last
three days, but whether Stranleigh was asleep or not throughout the
recital, he could not be sure. At any rate he did not interrupt, but lay
back in his chair with closed eyes. Then, without opening them, he
remarked:
“You have done very well, Mackeller, and as a reward I will give
you the choice of a spot in the Bay of Biscay or the Atlantic Ocean
where you may wish your case of rifles and ammunition heaved
overboard.”
“Oh, have you been examining my dunnage, sir?” asked Mackeller.
“Dear me, no,” replied Stranleigh languidly. “Your fool of a
gunsmith did not understand your instructions, and not knowing
where to find you, and supposing you were acting for me, he
telegraphed asking which of two rifles named should be sent.
Learning that twelve had been ordered, I thought of telegraphing in
the old phrase, ‘Six of one and half a dozen of the other,’ but I finally
took on a score altogether, ten of each kind with ammunition to
match.”
 “Why purchase more guns than I did, if you’re going to drop them
in the Bay of Biscay.”
“Oh, they’ll make the bigger plump when they go down.”
“What harm will they do aboard, sir? If we don’t need them, we
won’t use them. If we do need them, then you’ll be sorry they’re in
the Bay of Biscay.”
“So you’re going to choose the Bay of Biscay, are you? I thought
perhaps you might toss them over farther along than that. I hope
you understand, Mackeller, I am on a mission of peace, and if, for
any reason, the yacht should be searched, your rifles and
ammunition would be rather a giveaway, wouldn’t they?”
“I don’t see that. You’ve got more than a score of men aboard
here, and the repeaters can be used for sporting purposes.”
“All right, Mackeller, don’t be alarmed. The boxes are stowed
safely away in the forrard hold, and we’ll not drop them overboard
anywhere. After all, you know the locality for which we are bound
better than I do, and so your rifles and ammunition may prove
friends in need. I see the boy hovering about in the offing, and I am
sure he wishes to conduct you to your cabin. By the time you’ve
washed the railway dust from your sylphlike form, the dinner gong
will be filling the air with a welcome melody. I’ve got my own
favorite chef with me, and I understand we shall not need to live on
porridge and tinned milk. And, by the way, Mackeller, did you happen
to pack such wearing apparel as dinner togs in your dunnage, as you
call it?”
“Dinner togs?” echoed Mackeller, aghast. “Why, hang it all, I’m a
mining engineer. I haven’t even a starched shirt with me, let alone a
dress suit. I didn’t know I was coming to an evening party?”
“No, you paid attention to the trivialities of life, such as rifles and
ammunition, and quite neglected the more important affair of
costume.”
 “I’ll eat forward with the men,” said Mackeller gruffly.
“Oh, there’s no need for that. As you tried to bolt through the
door from my breakfast room the other day, when Ponderby was on
guard, I saw him measure your proportions critically with his eye, in
case it should be necessary for him to use that force which I
deplore, so I told Ponderby to make a guess at what would fit you,
and to go to the extent of three evening suits of varying sizes made
to order. You will find them all laid out in your room, and the able
Ponderby will give you critical advice regarding which fits you best.”
“Well, sir, if you expect me to look pretty every night——”
“Oh, no,” interrupted his lordship, “I never expect the impossible,
but, you see, Captain Wilkie is rather a stickler on etiquette. He will
occupy one end of the table, brave in a uniform of gold lace made
by the premier naval tailor of London, so we must play up to him,
my boy, and do the best we can. Then there will be our chief
engineer, also in uniform, and the wireless telegraphy operator, who
is rather a la-de-da young man, and lastly there’s the doctor, an
Oxford graduate, and so we must do honor to the university. You
and I are in the minority, and we’ll just need to make the best of it.”
Mackeller departed dejectedly to his room, which he found so
spacious and so luxuriously fitted up that he stood on its threshold
for a few moments, dumfounded, regarding it with dismay. He
emerged when the gong rang, and entered the long broad saloon
which extended from side to side of the ship. Lord Stranleigh
occupied the head of the table, and he introduced Mackeller to Dr.
Holden, and to Mr. Spencer, electrician and telegrapher. Neither the
captain nor the engineer put in an appearance during dinner, the
one waiting to see his ship in more open waters, and the other
standing by to watch the behavior of the machinery at the beginning
of a long run.
“You have a fine boat here, Stranleigh,” said the doctor.
 “It isn’t half bad,” admitted his lordship. “Still, there’s always a fly
in the ointment. I call her The Woman in White, after the title of
Wilkie Collins’s famous novel. You know the book, Mac-keller, I
suppose?”
“I never heard of it. I don’t read novels.”
“Oh, well, we must convert you before the voyage is ended. You’ll
find plenty of fiction on board this boat. There’s a copy of “The
Woman in White” in every room, large and small, each copy in a
style of binding that suits the decoration of the room, so I beg of
you, Mackeller, to begin reading the story in your own apartment,
and if, getting interested in it, you wish to continue in the saloon, or
on deck, I hope you will take the saloon or deck copy, so that the
color of the binding will not clash with your surroundings. I ought
really to have the copies chained in their places, as was the case
with the ancient books in our churches, for it is a terribly distressing
sight to see a man reading a mauve book in a white-and-gold
saloon, or a scarlet copy up on deck.”
“Yes, I should think that would be appalling,” sneered Mackeller.
“Now, don’t be sarcastic, Peter, and thus lacerate my tenderest
artistic tastes. You may come to know, some day, when you are
starving in a wilderness on the West Coast, that these are really the
serious things of life.”
“I dare say,” replied Peter gruffly.
“Then the fly in the ointment,” said the doctor, “is the fact that
your passengers persist in taking away the volumes from the rooms
where they belong?”
“Oh, no; a man who calls his yacht Woman in White, should have
a captain named Wilkie Collins. I searched England and Scotland for
one of that name, and couldn’t find him, so I was compelled to
compromise, a thing I always dislike doing. My captain’s name is
Wilkie, and my chief engineer’s name is Collins, and thus I divide the
burden of congruity upon the shoulders of two different men,
whereas one would have sufficed if his parents had only exhibited
some common sense at his christening. I’d pay any salary in reason
for a captain named Wilkie Collins.”
“I think I’ll write a book myself, some day,” said the doctor, “and
call it ‘The Grievous Worries of a Millionaire.’ Would you object if I
took you as my model for my Croesus?”
“On the contrary, I should be flattered, and as you progress with
the work I may be able to supply you with incidents to weave into
your narrative.”
Mackeller sat silent while this frivolous conversation went on, and
this silence he maintained during the greater part of the voyage.
Mackeller’s mind was troubled. He was a serious young man, whose
opinions were strongly grounded on common sense, and there were
many elements in the situation that gave him just cause for anxiety.
When it came down to finalities, he possessed a strong belief in the
efficiency of force. So far as his knowledge went, the Lord was
always on the side of the biggest battalion. He represented the
American confidence in the big stick, the British faith in keeping your
powder dry, the German reliance on the mailed fist.
And now here he was treading the deck of a confection in naval
construction; a dainty flower of marine architecture, which slipped
through the water as gracefully as if she were a living white swan.
Her well-molded, snowy sides were of the finest quality of pressed
steel, almost paper thin, and he was convinced that even a single
shot from a small cannon would send her shivering to the bottom,
shattering her metal covering as a pane of glass is shattered by a
well-thrown stone, and for this delusion he was scarcely to be
blamed, because his education had been concentrated on mining
engineering, and the mechanism of air-tight and water-tight
compartments did not form part of his curriculum. He knew that on
the open sea The Woman in White could not be overtaken by any
craft afloat except one or other of the most recent torpedo-boat
destroyers, which were not likely to be encountered along the west
coast of Africa, but he knew the locality to which The Woman in
White was bound, and he pictured her from twelve to twenty-four
miles away from the coast, where, if discovered, she would need to
make her way down a narrow river, flanked on each side, after she
left the shelter of the hills, by a flat country. In this position it would
be impossible, owing to windings of the stream, to take advantage
of her full speed, and being under the misapprehension that a single
well-aimed shot would disable, if not sink, her, he pictured the
beautiful yacht and her crew helplessly trapped somewhere between
the hills and the lagoon, at the mercy of well-armed, desperate men,
in a region where no law, save that of might, ran: men who would
not feel the slightest scruple in removing from the earth, all trace of
the vessel and those aboard of her.
If Mackeller had been told that the little craft might have been
riddled like a sieve, and still keep afloat, and that so long as a stray
shot did not destroy her motive power, she could, within a few
minutes, get out of range of any land force, so long as there was a
sufficient depth of water in the river, he would not have believed it.
He strongly suspected that the Rajah was well provided not only
with cannon and ammunition, but also with floating mines to seal up
the river, rendering exit impossible. Into this fatal impasse Lord
Stranleigh, with a levity that saddened Mackeller, was running his
unprotected cruiser, armed only with luxury. Officers and crew would
be of little use in a fight, and the extra men, whatever might be the
shooting qualities of the gamekeepers and foresters whom
Stranleigh had requisitioned from his estates, were quite
undisciplined, and although most of them were doubtless expert
enough with a shotgun, their efficiency with magazined arms of
precision such as he had sent on board, was more than doubtful.
Once or twice during the early portion of the voyage, Mackeller
had endeavored to imbue Lord Stranleigh with some of his own
apprehension, but the young nobleman was usually in company with
the doctor, or with the telegrapher, or one or other of the officers,
and he invariably turned aside Mackeller’s attempts with a joke,
refusing to discuss anything seriously. By the time they had arrived
at that portion of the waters where they should have passed the
Rajah, according to Mackeller’s calculation, they were sailing through
an empty sea. Day after day Mackeller, from the front of the vessel,
swept the bald horizon with the most powerful of binoculars, but he
saw nothing of the tramp steamer. The voyage had been
monotonous with its good weather. Nothing had happened, either in
the way of a breakdown of machinery, or the encountering of even a
moderate storm.
Lord Stranleigh recognized his anxious search with an amused
smile, but said nothing. At last Mackeller gave up scrutiny of sea and
sky. It was no longer possible that the Rajah could have covered the
distance The Woman in White had already traversed. Still, his
earnest meditations had at last evolved a plan, and the adoption of
that plan he must now urge upon his chief, so seeing that Stranleigh,
for once, was alone, he strode aft to the spot where the head of the
expedition lolled in a reclining cane chair, with his slippered feet
extended on the adjustable rest. Like the woman for whom his ship
was named, he was clad entirely in white, for the weather was
warm, although the yacht slipped so speedily through the oily water
that a comforting breeze greeted every one on deck. The young man
placed the book he had been reading face downward on the little
table at his elbow, and looked up at the on-comer with an
expression of amusement on his face.
“Well, Mackeller,” he cried, “have you found her?”
“Found whom, sir?”
“Why, the Rajah, of course.”
“How did you know I was looking for her?”
“You’ve been looking for something these few days past, so I took
the liberty of surmising it was the Rajah.”
 “You are quite right.’”
“I always am, Mackeller. Haven’t you discovered that yet? Always
be right and then you’ll be happy, although you’ll also be extremely
disliked by everybody else. Still, I never aimed at popularity, not
wishing to write a book, or stand for Parliament, so a lack of
popularity does not matter.”
“I never pretend to be always right, sir.”
“Well, that’s a good thing. I dislike pretense myself; nevertheless,
it is so easy to be right that I sometimes wonder you don’t practice
the art. All that is necessary is knowledge and brains.”
“I do not lack knowledge in my own line of business, and no one
ever hinted before that I was lacking in brain power.”
“I do not hint that at all, Mackeller. I bear willing testimony to your
brain power, but I sometimes think you don’t exercise it enough. For
instance, you think things out in somber silence, when sometimes a
question might throw a good deal of light on your problem. Take my
own actions, for instance. Do you suppose I wish the whereabouts
of my yacht reported in the marine columns of the English
newspapers day by day, thus running the risk that certain people will
begin to wonder what I am doing so far south?”
“Of course not.”
“Very well. Why have we met none of the South African liners, or
overtaken any of the tramps threshing their way to Cape Town?”
“I’m sure I don’t know.”
“Oh, yes, you do, if you’ll only think. The reason is this: that
having ample time at my command, the course of my yacht was
deflected from south to southwest when we reached north latitude
40. We spun along merrily in that direction till daylight did appear,
and then resumed our progress south. We passed outside of the
islands, and out of the track of any steamer that might report us.
Now turn your brain power upon that amiable gentleman who kicked
you downstairs. He must at least strongly suspect that he’s engaged
on an illegal expedition. Would he deflect, do you think, and waste
valuable time on the face of the ocean?”
“No, I don’t think so.”
“Of course you don’t. He’d make for your what-do-you-call-it river
on a bee-line. The course we have taken puts us two hundred miles,
more or less, from his path, and as they tell me you cannot see
more than thirty miles on the water, you may now conjecture how
fruitless has been your scanning of the ocean. I had no desire to see
the Rajah, but in any case I did not wish the Rajah to see me. We
will steam as we are going until we are directly opposite your gold
mine; then round at right angles and straight eastward is our course.
You should do as I do, Mackeller, and read that incomparable sea
writer, W. Clark Russell, then you’d begin to understand what you
are about. He’d put you up to all the tricks of the trade. It’s one of
his books I’m perusing now, which accounts for my trickiness at sea.
Have you ever read any of his novels?”
“No, I haven’t.”
“Very well, then, begin with the ‘Wreck of the Grosvenor.’ We’ve
got all his works on board, and pretty soon you’ll know what to do
with a mutiny, how to conduct yourself when marooned, the proper
etiquette to adopt if tackled by a cyclone, what to say when you and
a nice girl are left alone on a wreck. Of course I admit that W. W.
Jacobs is excellent, and that he puts forth most admirable text-books
on navigation, but he is only good below-bridge, as you might put it;
for rivers and other inland waters, and perhaps a bit of the coast.
When you take to deep-sea navigation you must study Clark Russell,
my boy. Take the advice of a tarry old salt like myself, and study
Clark Russell. Do not be deluded by my white apparel; I am tar to
the finger ends, and full of salt junk, because I’m three quarter way
through his latest book.”
 “I suppose it would be useless for me to say, sir, that I believe you
are running into a trap?”
“Oh, quite. Sufficient to the day is the evil thereof. You refer, of
course, to our being bottled up in that unpronounceable river, and
ordinarily I should give some attention to the matter, but I cannot
now, as I am in the middle of the most exciting chapter in this most
exciting book. Once we are inside the trap, Mackeller, we’ll study its
construction, and find a way out. There seems to me little practical
use in studying an imaginary trap which may not be there when we
arrive. That leads to disappointment. Let us first get into the trap if
we can; then if there’s no way out, we will console ourselves by the
knowledge that there are plenty of provisions and books to read on
board. If the worst comes to the worst, we will get our wireless
telegraphy at work until we pick up a liner similarly equipped, and
thus get into communication with Clark Russell, relate our position,
and ask him what to do. I’ll bet you a fiver he’ll send a solution of
the problem.”
Mackeller compressed his lips, and turned on his heel without a
word.
“Oh, very well,” laughed Stranleigh, “have it your own way. Try
Jacobs if you like, but I bank on Russell,” and with that parting
remark his lordship resumed his reading.
Mackeller grimly resolved to make no further attempt to instill
common sense into an empty head, neither did he take to the
reading of freshwater or salt-water authors. He devoted what time
remained to him in poring over certain scientific works he had
discovered in the library.
One night he woke up suddenly. The boat was strangely still. Light
as had been the unceasing purr of the turbines, its cessation had
instantly aroused him. He made his way to the deck. The steamer
swayed gently in the heave of the sea. From the east came the low
murmur of breakers on the shore, sounding like a distant waterfall.
The dim outline of dark hills against a less dark sky could be
distinguished, and that was all. Mackeller paced the deck until
daylight, when the steamer got under weigh again, and cautiously
approached the shore. One of the ship’s boats was swung into the
water, and under Mackeller’s guidance sounded with a lead the
depths of the channel, the yacht crawling after them, until at last it
entered the river. By nine o’clock it was moored alongside the gold
fields. A few minutes later Lord Stranleigh appeared on deck, well-
groomed, clear-eyed, and fresh as a youth whose night’s rest has
been undisturbed. He expressed no surprise on seeing the position
of his steamer, but merely remarked to his captain:
“That was rather a good shot, old man, considering the size of the
target and the distance. When did you sight the coast?”
“At four bells, sir.”
“Did you need to cruise up and down to find the spot?”
“No, sir.”
“Look at that, now, and yet Maekeller thinks we’re going to be
trapped.”
After breakfast Lord Stranleigh gave orders that the steamer
should proceed upstream to the head of navigation, wherever that
was, so they cast off, and began to explore. They discovered that
the stream they were navigating was merely a branch, and not the
main river, as Mackeller had supposed. About a mile above the mines
the land began to rise, and both banks were clothed with splendid
forests. Arriving at the head of the delta they found that the river
itself proceeded due north, while a branch similar to that which
passed the gold fields struck off through the forest to the southwest.
The southwest branch was the smallest of the three streams, so
they did not trouble with it, but went down the main river until they
reached a defile with hills to the west of them facing the continuous
range to the east.
 “This will be our camping spot, I imagine,” said Stranleigh. “We
will return to it, but first I wish to investigate the channel at the
mouth of the river.”
They discovered, to Mackeller’s surprise, that the stream flowed so
far to the north that when at last it turned west the steamer could
reach the ocean without any possibility of being seen from the gold
region. Stranleigh laughed when this fact was made plain, and
smote Mackeller on the shoulders.
“Where’s your trap now, my boy?” he cried. “You would have
saved yourself some worry if you had known that the lay of the land
was like this.”
“Nevertheless,” said Mackeller, “if they discover this channel, they
may fill it with floating mines:”
“So they may the mouth of the Thames, but they won’t. An
engineer should stick to probabilities, Peter. Now we will return, and
seek our secluded glen, mooring against the eastern bank, so that if
we are discovered by our opponents, as the song says, they will
have one more river to cross.”
They reached the ravine in the evening, and Lord Stranleigh
complained of a hard day’s work virtuously accomplished, with the
prospective dinner well earned, although his exertions had consisted
mainly of sitting in an armchair at the prow, with his feet on the rail.
Next morning he crossed the river with Mackeller and a party of
foresters, some of whom carried axes, one a huge telescope with its
stand, and another a small tent. At the top the foresters cleared
away intervening underbrush so that a view might be had of the
distant gold fields. The telescope stand was placed upon the rock,
and the tent erected over it. Stranleigh, adjusting the focus, gazed
at the gold fields, then rubbed his hands with satisfaction.
“Why,” he said, “we can see their inmost thoughts with this.”
 When they descended, Stranleigh sent another party to the top,
one laden with wireless telegraphy apparatus, which the operator
was requested to get into working order.
“If successful it will save us a telephone wire,” said his lordship.
The rest were laden with provisions.
“Mackeller,” he said, “I appoint you to the outlook, and your
companion will be our second telegraph operator. One never knows
what may happen in this locality, so if our steamer is compelled to
cut and run, you people up on top, with everything so well
concealed, can lie low, yet keep in touch with us so long as we are
within the four-mile radius, or whatever is the limit of the wireless. I
noticed a little spring about halfway up in the forest, and that will
supply you with drink nearer than the river, and I counsel you it is
better for you than champagne, although I have sent up a ease of
that. And now, to show you how economical I am, and thus make an
appeal to your Scottish heart, I am going to send my woodmen into
the forest alongside, and while here we will burn nothing but hard
wood, and save coal. Indeed, I have consulted with my chief
engineer, and with his consent I am going to fill our bunkers with the
most combustible timber I can find. I take no further interest in your
mountain top until the Rajah is sighted, but while the woodmen,
with their axes and saws, are filling the bunkers, I shall attend to the
larder with fishing tackle and gun, and here’s where my
gamekeepers will earn their wages.”
Game proved to be plentiful, and many wondrous fishes were
captured.
“Oh!” cried Stranleigh, one night after an exceptionally good fish
and game dinner. “Piccadilly is a fool of a place to this. If the postal
arrangements were only a little better, we would be all right. I must
send a letter to the Times about the negligence of our Government,
and score the postmaster-general, as all right-minded
correspondents do. I have almost forgotten what a postman looks
like, but I expect when we get our wireless at work we’ll be able to
give Signor Marconi some hints when we return.”
The Rajah was three days late, according to Mackeller’s
calculations, but one morning Mac-keller recognized her slowly
stemming the current of the Paramakaboo River, and at once the
information was telegraphed to Stranleigh, who did not receive the
message, as he was out shooting. The young man had taken his
lunch with him, so the operator on the steamer informed those up
aloft, and no one knew when he would be back.
Mackeller, his eye glued to the telescope, watched the landing of
the army that the Rajah carried, and saw the two steam cranes, one
fore and one aft, begin at once to swing ashore the cargo from the
hold. He momentarily expected the arrival of his chief, but the dinner
hour came, bringing no visitor to the hilltop. Mackeller and the
operator descended, and there, to his amazement, on the after-deck
he saw Stranleigh seated, calmly reading a novel, and awaiting the
sound of the gong.
“Didn’t you get our message?” demanded Mackeller.
“Oh, yes, a couple of hours ago. The Rajah has come in, you say?
That’s very interesting. You’ll be glad to know, Mackeller, that I have
had a most successful day’s shooting.”
“Yes, that, as you remark, is very interesting,” replied Mackeller
dryly. “I thought, if you got my message in time, you would have
come up to the outlook.”
“I am sorry to have disappointed you, Peter, but when I place an
excellent man on the spot I never interfere with him. I should be
quite superfluous on the hilltop, and it’s so much more comfortable
down here.”
“You might have been surprised to know how many men they
landed from the Rajah. Enough, I estimate, to clean us up in short
order if they find us.”
 “Well, let us hope they won’t find us, Peter.”
“They’ve got a number of tents erected already, and they began
blasting operations at one o’clock.”
“They are not losing any time, are they?”
“No, they are not. I see they have arranged electric searchlights
on the two masts, apparently to cover the field of operations, so I
suppose they will be working day and night shifts.”
“I do love an energetic body of men,” said his lordship with
admiration. “If there was a funicular to the top of your hill, I’d take
up an armchair merely for the pleasure of sitting and watching them.
Ah, there’s the dinner gong, thank goodness. Peter, I shot some
birds to-day that I think you’ll enjoy.”
“Thank you, but all I wish is a sandwich. I’m going back to the
outlook. We haven’t broken into the boxes of provisions yet. I must
learn if these people are actually going to work all night.”
“Take my advice, Peter, and don’t. Enjoy a good rest in your
comfortable bed. Those who sleep well live long.”
“I am going back,” said Peter.
“Ah, I see what you’re trying to do. You’ll force me to give you
both a day and a night salary, or perhaps you are yearning to imitate
the energy of those johnnies on the gold rock. Now do be
persuaded, for my sake, to consume a good dinner when it is all
ready for you. Place the sandwiches in your pocket, if you like, to
munch during the watches of the night, if you will persist in climbing
that distressingly steep hill.”
Mackeller shook his head.
“I implore you to be persuaded, Peter, because if you will not
succumb to gentle measures, I shall command you, and then if you
refuse, I’ll put you in irons. I’m not going to tramp all day over Africa
on your behalf, and then have my bag ignored when I return. One
concession I will make: don’t trouble to-night about your evening
clothes. Be not abashed by the splendor of your table companions,
but devote your attention to the dinner, which I hope you will
pronounce good, and I will order the steward to make you up a
parcel of delicious sandwiches.”
So Mackeller, being a hired minion, was forced to comply. At the
head of the table that evening, Lord Stranleigh held forth eloquently
on the wickedness of work.
“I don’t agree with my friend, President Roosevelt,” he said,
“regarding the strenuous life. The President quite overlooks the fact
that work was placed upon this earth as a curse, and now many
unthinking people pretend to look upon it as a blessing. Roosevelt
reminds me something of Mackeller here, except that he is more
genial, and possesses a greater sense of humor. Mackeller, actuated
by the promptings of duty, and assisted by porridge-fed muscle, is
actually going to climb that steeple of a hill tonight, while we will be
playing bridge. This will give him a feeling of superiority over us
which to-morrow he will be unable to conceal. I always sympathize
with those people who eliminated Aristides called the Just.”
Mackeller remained silent through all this badinage, but
nevertheless enjoyed his dinner, although the moment coffee was
served and the card table set out, he rowed himself across the river,
tied up his boat securely, and ascended through the darkness of the
forest to see the electric lights blazing over the gold mine when he
reached the top.
In spite of his apparent indifference, Lord Stranleigh appeared on
the summit shortly after breakfast. He found Mackeller stretched on
the rock, sound asleep, and did not disturb him, but turned his
attention instead to the telescope, through which he saw enough of
industry going on to satisfy the most indolent. He turned the
telescope this way and that, and at last fixed it at a point covering
the river lower down than the mine. There he gazed quietly for a
long time, until interrupted by Mackeller sitting up, and giving
utterance to an exclamation when he saw his chief seated on the
stump that did duty for a chair.
“Good morning, Peter. Watchman, what of the night?”
“They worked all night, sir, both at the blasting of the ore, and the
unloading of the ship.”
“Then that means we shall soon need to be getting under weigh
again. If they load the Rajah as quickly as they have unloaded her,
she will be out in the ocean before we know where we are.”
“That’s why I came up last night, sir. I thought you didn’t quite
appreciate how speedily our visit here is drawing to a close.”
“And yet,” drawled Stranleigh, “what they are doing now seems to
point to a lengthened stay on the part of the Rajah.”
“What are they doing now?” demanded Mackeller.
“About half a mile below the gold fields they are planting floating
mines in the river. They have just finished one row that goes clear
across the stream, and are engaged upon the second series a
quarter of a mile, as I estimate the distance, nearer the ocean. They
have two ordinary ship’s boats at work, and one steam launch. The
river is sealed up, and there is a practical declaration of war, my boy,
with Mackeller sound asleep.”
 CHAPTER V—AN INVITATION TO
LUNCH

M
ACKELLER, now wide awake, sprang to his feet and gazed
through the telescope. “You see,” he cried triumphantly, “I
was right after all!”
“Yes, you were right on one point and wrong on another. I confess
I did not believe in the floating mine, because it is not an article you
can buy at every ironmonger’s; but you were wrong in predicting
they would leave a channel for the Rajah to get out: they have
completely sealed the river. Of course that is an advantage. When it
is time for the Rajah to leave, you will see those mines picked up
and brought inshore; so, by watching the mine field on the river, we
will receive notice of the Rajah’s departure.”
“And do you intend to follow her out when the mines are cleared
away?”
“Bless you, no. We will depart by the main channel.”
“Then you will do nothing about this nest of explosives?”
“What is there to do? If we were Japanese, and reckless of human
life, we might steal down there and set the mines adrift; but that
would be a dangerous business, and if one or more got out into the
ocean we might find ourselves practically responsible for the
destruction of a Cape liner. But after all,” continued his lordship
dreamily, sprawling at full length on the place that Mackeller had
deserted, “after all, what is the use of this gold? You can’t eat it or
drink it, except in London or Paris, or some such center of so-called
civilization. You have just seen what brutes it makes of men in quest
of it, when they will in cold blood prepare for the annihilation of their
fellow creatures.”
“But you knew all that, sir, before you left England.”
“True, true, so I did; but here the fact has made a greater
impression on my mind. I have arrived at a theory. I believe this spot
to be the Garden of Eden. The soil and climate will grow anything.
You may enjoy whatever temperature you like by simply rising
higher and higher in the hills; the higher you get the lower the
temperature. There is ample timber of all kinds, and yesterday I
discovered a lovely waterfall which would give us enough electricity
to endow a city with power, so I intend to found a modern Utopia,
and have selected a spot where this very day we will begin to clear
away the forest and build log huts. The nucleus of our colony will be
situated at the head of the delta alongside the stream that passes
the gold field and flows direct to the ocean. I shall move the steamer
over there, and thus, Peter, you will be deserted, for I insist that you
shall watch our potential enemies from this spot, and report by
wireless what they are doing.”
“So you intend to give up this mining property without a
struggle?”
“Oh, I hate struggling. The climate is too perfect to struggle. Let
us be happy when there is a chance of happiness.”
The young man reclined there with his hands clasped behind his
head, looking up quizzically with half-closed eyes at the bewildered
Mackeller.
“By the way, Mackeller, there is something afloat on the river near
the yacht that would interest you. Did I tell you I had picked up a
little gem of a motor boat at Thomycroft’s, actually armored and
bullet-proof? In it we could go down and visit the mine, and return,
letting them pepper away at us, while we lay full length on deck
protected by the armored bulwarks. No one could be hit, unless the
shooter were on top of a church steeple. I think I’ll visit the mining
camp.”
“I strongly advise you, sir, to do nothing of the kind.”
“Oh, very well, I won’t, then, but this little craft will come in handy
for visiting you. It is a nimble little beast, and much more effective
on these waters than the row boat.”
“Are you in earnest about that Utopia, sir?”
“Certainly, which reminds me I must make a beginning.”
He rose, lazily stretched himself, nodded good-by to Mackeller, and
proceeded in leisurely fashion down the hill.
The woodmen on board The Woman in White received the
announcement of the new Utopia in a spirit quite differing from that
of Mackeller, but of course they knew nothing of the gold that had
been the object of the cruise. The yacht proceeded to the side of the
plateau that Stranleigh had selected as the site of his first village,
and presently the air was filled with a crash of falling trees, with the
ringing sound of the ax, and the snarl of the saw. Gamekeepers and
crew were all set to work, those who could not chop being useful at
the two-handed saw, or the rolling of logs to the river bank, where
Stranleigh ordered them to be piled.
Mackeller and the telegrapher occupied their lonely perch night
and day, and sent in reports of progress. At last Mackeller
announced that the loading of ore had gone so far that the Plim-
soll’s mark on the Rajah’s side was already submerged, which fact,
added Mackeller, showed that the steamer did not intend sailing to
England. Within half an hour of the receipt of this message the swift
little motor boat brought Stran-leigh and the doctor to the foot of
Outlook Hill, and presently the two arrived at the summit.
“Mackeller,” said Stranleigh, “turn your telescope upstream to the
first bit of clear water you see.”
 While Mackeller was doing this, the chief turned to the operator—
and said:
“Send a message to your colleague: these words—‘Let’em all
come.’ Ask him to repeat them to show that he has understood.”
“Are you expecting an attack?” asked Mackeller, putting his own
interpretation on the familiar defiant phrase.
“A sort of an attack,” replied Stranleigh. “You watch the surface of
that water, and tell me what you see.”
“Oh!” cried Mackeller, “there seems to be a raft coming down.”
“No, they are separate logs. They have understood our signal,
doctor, and have acted promptly. Now, Mackeller, turn your glass on
the floating mines, and give up your place to the doctor. I have
promised him the first sight. How many mines did they lay down,
Mackeller?”
“I don’t know, sir.”
“Ah, yes, I remember; you were asleep at your post. Well, I’m
happy to inform you that the number I saw placed in the river was
exactly twenty-seven. Now, Mr. Telegrapher, stand up here and make
yourself useful. If explosions occur, no man is to speak, but each is
to keep count of the number of spurts of water he sees, then we will
compare notes at the end of the fusillade.”
“By Jove!” exclaimed the doctor, his eyes glued to the telescope.
A tall pillar of water, white as snow, rose into the air, paused,
broke like a sky-rocket, and subsided in a misty rain, which the wind
caught and blew along the surface of the water. Then three more
shot up into the air as if in competition. A sound like distant thunder
came across the delta, and now it seemed that one mine had set off
another, or else the logs were even thicker than might have been
expected, for a wall of water rose from the surface of the river,
extending, with breaks here and there, from shore to shore, and
instead of a rumble, a sharp thunderclap was heard by the four men
on the mountain. This made counting impossible. For a few
moments nothing further happened, then a quarter of a mile down
the river the line of mines went off practically simultaneously,
forming for a brief instant a Niagara in the sky.
“I think we’ve got them,” said Stranleigh quietly, as he slung over
his shoulder again the binoculars he had been using. “Turn your
telescope to the land again, doctor, and see those comical people
tumbling over each other in their haste to find out what has
happened. They look like a nest of disturbed ants.”
“What have you done with the yacht?” asked Mackeller. “If any of
those people have seen sawn logs float down the river there will be
an investigation very speedily to discover who has done the sawing.”
“That is true, Mackeller. I have therefore taken the yacht across
the river out of gunshot, or the sight of our abandoned Utopia. If
they come by land they can’t reach her.”
“They are not coming by land,” said the doctor. “The steam launch
is being got ready, and three men are standing on the rock ledge
preparing to go aboard, I fancy. They are armed with rifles, too.”
“Just glance through the telescope, Mackeller,” said Stranleigh,
“and tell me if you recognize the three men.”
“Yes; there is the tall manager, with the captain of the Rajah on
one side of him, and the first mate on the other.”
“Don’t say ‘first mate,’ Peter,” corrected Stranleigh. “Clark Russell
says there’s no such thing as a first mate. He is merely the mate,
and then you have second and third mate, and I don’t know how
many more. Well, doctor, let us get away, and meet them in the
motor boat. We’re innocent lumbermen, searching for timber that
has tumbled off the bank, remember.”
“You are surely not going down there,” protested Mackeller.
 “Why, of course. We’ll fill them up with our story before they even
begin to ask questions.”
“But you are unarmed.”
“Quite.”
“And they possess rifles.”
“So it seems.”
“Then it is a foolhardy thing to meet them without being
accompanied by an equal body of armed men to protect you, at
least. I should take all that the motor boat will hold.”
“I know you would, Peter, but then, as I have often said, you are a
bloodthirsty person. We can drop behind the bulwarks flat on our
faces, before any one of the three can shoot; then in that recumbent
position I will explain to them as well as I can that the Thornycroft
motor boat possesses a submarine prow as effective as that of a
battle ship, and if they don’t want their steam launch rammed and
sunk, they’d better drop their rifles to the deck. I shall insist that
whoever speaks to me shall talk as one gentleman to another. I’ll tell
them I’m a member of the Peace Conference at The Hague. Come
along, doctor. We’ll invite those johnnies to lunch, and cheer them
up with the best wine and cigars that’s to be had in Africa,” and with
that Stranleigh and the doctor departed for the waiting motor boat.
The steersman of the little motor boat crouched over his wheel,
which had some resemblance to that of an automobile, as the swift
craft sped up the river until it came to the branch that led to the
mine, then into this watery lane it turned at full speed. Stranleigh
and the doctor were standing up, and on rounding a bend came in
sight of the steam launch laboriously churning up toward them
against the current.
“Stop the engine,” said Stranleigh. “Swing round the stem of the
launch, and come up alongside at a distance of about twenty feet,
then regulate her speed to suit that of the launch.”
 The manager, captain, and mate, all standing up, seemed struck
into immobility with astonishment at seeing such a cutter in such a
region.
They made no motion to raise their guns, or even to salute the
oncomer. The motor boat came past them like a wild duck, without
sound of machinery or sight of vapor, swung gracefully round, and
came up alongside with a light precision which should have aroused
the admiration of an old salt like the captain of the Rajah.
 But the three men were filled with consternation. The ruddy,
weather-beaten face of the captain turned to a mottled purple; his
jaw dropped, and he stood there gaping, with fear in his bulging
eyes. The erect, easy grace of Lord Stran-leigh, clad in white,
instantly suggested to his experienced eye the British naval officer.
This error was heightened by the natty, gold-braided hat worn by
the doctor; but the attitude of the two men in white was not so
disquieting as the demeanor and appearance of the boat herself. She
was most expertly handled, and came alongside with that impudent,
saucy air characteristic of midshipmen and the smaller units of the
British navy. There was a touch of arrogance in her rakish build, as if
she knew the whole power of a maritime nation was typified in her.
The significance of her armored sides was not lost on the two
seafaring men, even though the manager of the mine did not
become immediately conscious of it, but all three recognized the
sinister significance of that projecting prow of steel, which was
plainly, if waveringly seen, through the transparent green waters,
dangerous as the nose of a maneating shark.
Lord Stranleigh smiled as he realized the panic his sudden
appearance had caused.
“Good morning,” he greeted them pleasantly. “Have you seen
anything of timber floating down this river?”
“Timber?” gasped the manager of the mine. “Yes—yes—we have.”
“Is it lost, do you think?”
“I—I suppose most of it is bobbing about in the surf of the Atlantic
Ocean.”
“Not lost, but gone before,” murmured the doctor.
Stranleigh surmised that captain and mate knew more of the
piratical, thieving nature of their expedition than he had supposed.
They were both well aware that British cruisers were nosing about in
all sorts of odd comers of the world, mostly where they were not
wanted, but even so a worthy seaman, if engaged in his lawful
occupation, had no reason to fall into a state of nervous collapse at
the sight of a craft which looked like a baby torpedo boat. He had
hitherto believed that captain, officers, and crew of the Rajah were
innocent participators in a scheme of villainy and theft, but now he
knew that the captain and mate were equally in the plot with the
tall, dark-looking manager, and this information he placed at the
back of his brain for future use when he should meet the captain on
the open sea.
“Are you a naval officer, sir?” stammered the captain, speaking for
the first time.
“Oh, dear, no,” replied Stranleigh airily; “merely a private person.”
All three heaved a simultaneous sigh of relief, and their statuesque
posture lost something of its stiffness.
“I’m cruising about the coast in my yacht.”
“That isn’t your yacht, is it?” asked the mine manager.
“No, my yacht lies a few miles farther up the river, and is an
ocean-going affair. It is built with an eye to comfort and to the
housing of a good number of men.”
“Ah, how many men do you carry?” demanded the manager, his
courage visibly returning.
“Blessed if I know,” replied his lordship. “How many men have we,
doctor?”
“I never counted them, sir,” replied the doctor with a noncommittal
air of indifference.
“They are scattered over the face of the country,” continued the
chief. “Many of them are woodmen, and the rest are gamekeepers
from my own estates in England. They can all shoot a bit—trust a
gamekeeper for that.”
 “And is your yacht built on the model of this boat of yours?”
“No. As I told you, it is built for comfort. I’d like very much to
show her to you if you will honor me with a visit. Indeed, it is getting
near to midday, so I should be delighted if you three gentlemen
would be good enough to lunch with me. I can promise you a
passable meal, some excellent wine, and cigars that will call up
recollections of Havana.”
The manager whispered to the captain, who somewhat doubtfully
nodded his head, as who would say: “Well, I suppose we’d better
see what’s in this, anyway.”
The manager then spoke up:
“Thank you, sir,” he said. “We’ll be very glad of a bite and a drink
and a smoke. My friend here is captain of the Rajah, and this is Mr.
Thompson, the mate. I am Frowningshield, representing the owners
of this district.”
“Delighted to make your acquaintance, gentlemen. My name is
Stranleigh.”
“And a very well-known name in Africa, Mr. Stanley.”
“S-t-r-a-n-l-e-i-g-h,” spelled his lordship. “I cannot claim the
distinction of being a namesake of the explorer.”
“May I inquire the object of your visit in these regions?” asked the
manager.
“In a small way I am looking after big game, and so carry some of
my gamekeepers with me. Then again, as you are probably aware, I
am interested in timber, hence my woodmen with their axes and
saws. We have cut a considerable quantity of firewood, with which
we hope to supplement our coal. My third object may strike you as
largely impractical. I had some thoughts of founding a settlement
here, or on any other healthy and suitable spot not too far from the
coast. I am delighted with this section of the country. Back in the
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