CHAPTER I. “You must have heard—have you—oh, tell me, won’t you?” she begged. She was standing there, smiling at the audience as at her friends. Of course she had taken the boy as her lover, acting as his muse. Besides these plunderers, there were others with whom the disposal of their pillage necessarily brought them into contact, and who seldom failed to attend them during their hours of relaxation and festivity;—to wit, dealers in junk, old rags, and marine stores, purchasers of prize-money, crimps, and Jew receivers. We were only—les autres. This salute of his—actually the first she could remember—while it did not disturb her, began to lead her thoughts into new channels of speculation. She struggled against it quite uselessly. Occasionally the flames would bend, twist and writhe crazily as the punka-boy bestirred himself. It would hurt no one. “Very well,” he said, “I will go.
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