Abaft the Funnel

The measure of a man's popularity is not always--or indeed seldom--the measure of his intrinsic worth. So, when the earlier work of any writer is gathered together in more enduring form, catering to the enthusiasm of his readers in his maturer years, there is always a suspicion that the venture is purely a commercial one, without literary justification.

Fortunately these stories of Mr. Kipling's form their own best excuse for this, their first appearance together in book form. Not merely because in them may be traced the origin of that style and subject matter that later made their author famous; but because the stories are in themselves worth while--worth writing, worth reading. "The Likes o' Us" is as true to the type as any of the immortal Mulvaney stories; the beginning of "New Brooms" is as succinctly fine as any prose Mr. Kipling ever wrote; for searching out and presenting such splendid pieces of fiction as "Sleipner, late Thurinda," and "A Little More Beef" to a public larger than their original one in India, no apology is necessary.

A.F.

CONTENTS

PAGE

Erastasius of the Whanghoa 1

Her Little Responsibility 12

A Menagerie Aboard 20

A Smoke of Manila 26

The Red Lamp 33

The Shadow of His Hand 41

A Little More Beef 49

The History of a Fall 58

Griffiths the Safe Man 66

It 77

The Fallen Idol 85

New Brooms 91

Tiglath Pileser 99

The Like o' Us 109

His Brother's Keeper 121

"Sleipner," Late "Thurinda" 141

A Supplementary Chapter 161

Chautauquaed 180

The Bow Flume Cable Car 204

In Partibus 213

Letters on Leave 218

The Adoration of the Mage 251

A Death in the Camp 258

A Really Good Time 265

On Exhibition 273

The Three Young Men 283

My Great and Only 292

The Betrayal of Confidences 305

The New Dispensation--I 313

The New Dispensation--II 322

The Last of the Stories 331

ABAFT THE FUNNEL

ERASTASIUS OF THE WHANGHOA[1]

"The old cat's tumbled down the ventilator, sir, and he's swearing away under the furnace-door in the stoke-hole," said the second officer to the Captain of the Whanghoa.

"Now what in thunder was Erastasius doing at the mouth of the ventilator? It's four feet from the ground and painted red at that. Any of the children been amusing themselves with him, d'you think? I wouldn't have Erastasius disturbed in his inside for all the gold in the treasury," said the Captain. "Tell some one to bring him up, and handle him delicately, for he's not a quiet beast."

In three minutes a bucket appeared on deck. It was covered with a wooden lid. "Think he have make die this time," said the Chinese sailor who carried the coffin, with a grin. "Catchee him topside coals--no open eye--no spit--no sclatchee my. Have got bucket, allee same, and make tight. See!"

He dived his bare arm under the lid, but withdrew it with a yell, dropping the bucket at the same time. "Hya! Can do. Maskee dlop down--masky spilum coal. Have catchee my light there."

Blood was trickling from his elbow. He moved aft, while the bucket, mysteriously worked by hidden force, trundled to and fro across the decks, swearing aloud.

Emerged finally Erastasius, tom-cat and grandfather-in-chief of the Whanghoa--a gaunt brindled beast, lacking one ear, with every hair on his body armed and erect. He was patched with coal-dust, very stiff and sore all over, and very anxious to take the world into his confidence as to his wrongs. For this reason he did not run when he was clear of the bucket, but sitting on his hunkers regarded the Captain, as who would say: "You hold a master's certificate and call yourself a seaman, and yet you allow this sort of thing on your boat."