“What’s the matter, Cook?”

“To-day’s the day I’ve got to butcher the sow,” he complained, “and I’d give anything to have someone else do it ...  I’ve made such a pet of her during the voyage ... and she’s so intelligent and affectionate ... she’s decenter than lots of human beings I’ve met.”

I kept to the cabin while the butchering was going on.

The cook, the next day, with tears streaming down his face, told me how trusting the sow had been to the last moment....

“I’ll never forget the look in her eyes when she realised what I had done to her when I cut her throat.”

“And I’ll never be able to eat any of her.  I’d throw it up as fast as it went down ... much as I do like good, fresh pork.”

* * * * *

The ship-boys, Karl and Albert, always stole the eggs, the captain was sure, as soon as they were laid, though he was never able to catch them at it.

“Run,” he would shout hurriedly to me, “there!  I hear the hens cackling.  They’ve laid an egg.”

I’d run.  But there’d be no egg.  Someone would have reached the nest, from the forecastle, before I did.

Because the eggs were always stolen as soon as laid, the captain decreed the slaughter of the hens, too ... not a rooster among them ... the hens were frankly unhappy, because of this....

* * * * *

The last hen was to be slain.  Pursued, she flew far out over the still ocean.  Further and further she flew, keeping up her heavy body as if by an effort of will.

“Come back!  Don’t be such a damn fool!” I shouted in my excitement.

Everybody was watching when the chicken would light ... how long it could keep up....

As soon as I shouted “come back!” the bird, as if giving heed to my exhortation, slowly veered, and turned toward the ship again.  Everybody had laughed till they nearly sank on deck, at my naive words.

Now a spontaneous cheer went up, as the hen slowly tacked and started back....

It was still weather, but the ship was moving ahead....

“She won’t make it!”

“She will!”

Another great shout.  She lit astern, right by the wheel.  Straightway she began running forward, wings spread in genuine triumph.

“Catch her!” shouted the mate.

Nobody obeyed him; they stood by laughing and cheering, till the hen made safety beneath the forecastle head.

* * * * *

She was spared for three days.

* * * * *

“If you ever tell the captain on us,” First Mate Miller threatened, as he and the second mate stood over a barrel of Kuemmel, mixing hot water with it, to fill up for what they had stolen, “if you ever tell, I’ll see that you go overboard—­by accident ... when we clear for Iqueque, after we unload at Sydney.”