gone down with her.  He is heard of next at Nuka-Hiva, where he bought an old French schooner out of Government service.  What creditable enterprise he might have had in view when he made that purchase I can’t say, but it is evident that what with High Commissioners, consuls, men-of-war, and international control, the South Seas were getting too hot to hold gentlemen of his kidney.  Clearly he must have shifted the scene of his operations farther west, because a year later he plays an incredibly audacious, but not a very profitable part, in a serio-comic business in Manila Bay, in which a peculating governor and an absconding treasurer are the principal figures; thereafter he seems to have hung around the Philippines in his rotten schooner battling with un adverse fortune, till at last, running his appointed course, he sails into Jim’s history, a blind accomplice of the Dark Powers.

’His tale goes that when a Spanish patrol cutter captured him he was simply trying to run a few guns for the insurgents.  If so, then I can’t understand what he was doing off the south coast of Mindanao.  My belief, however, is that he was blackmailing the native villages along the coast.  The principal thing is that the cutter, throwing a guard on board, made him sail in company towards Zamboanga.  On the way, for some reason or other, both vessels had to call at one of these new Spanish settlements—­which never came to anything in the end—­where there was not only a civil official in charge on shore, but a good stout coasting schooner lying at anchor in the little bay; and this craft, in every way much better than his own, Brown made up his mind to steal.

’He was down on his luck—­as he told me himself.  The world he had bullied for twenty years with fierce, aggressive disdain, had yielded him nothing in the way of material advantage except a small bag of silver dollars, which was concealed in his cabin so that “the devil himself couldn’t smell it out.”  And that was all—­absolutely all.  He was tired of his life, and not afraid of death.  But this man, who would stake his existence on a whim with a bitter and jeering recklessness, stood in mortal fear of imprisonment.  He had an unreasoning cold-sweat, nerve-shaking, blood-to-water-turning sort of horror at the bare possibility of being locked up—­the sort of terror a superstitious man would feel at the thought of being embraced by a spectre.  Therefore the civil official who came on board to make a preliminary investigation into the capture, investigated arduously all day long, and only went ashore after dark, muffled up in a cloak, and taking great care not to let Brown’s little all clink in its bag.  Afterwards, being a man of his word, he contrived (the very next evening, I believe) to send off the Government cutter on some urgent bit of special service.  As her commander could not spare a prize crew, he contented himself by taking away before he left all the sails of Brown’s schooner to the very last rag, and took good care to tow his two boats on to the beach a couple of miles off.