Bahama Bill, Mate of the Wrecking Sloop Sea-Horse

by T. Jenkins Hains

"Seems to me I seen yo' befo', sonny," said the mate as he drew him clear of the surf. "Don't yo' live in Key West?"

"Oh, yes, I know you," said the lad, grinning.

The mate held him out at arm's length. "Ain't yo' Jimmy Sanches?"

The grin died away from the lad's face. "You won't take me back, will you, Bill?" he said.

"I reckon I'll have toe, Jimmy."

The next day the Sea-Horse sailed for Key West with the first claim for salvage, and a small boy who tried to run away at the last minute, causing the mate a chase to the lighthouse before he recaptured him.

"You've hit it fair this trip," said Sanders. "I reckon as ye ain't thinkin' about whackin' up on thet reward, hey Bill?"

But the mate said nothing, his rheumy eyes looking far away toward the southern horizon, where he expected to see the spars of the shipping in Key West rise above the sea. He was thinking, and it caused his heavy and seamed jaws to set and line up into a deep scowl. Julia worked for the rich Sanches, and their reception of a ragged and half-sober seaman had not been hospitable. Yet here was his chance.

The next day the wrecking sloop rode at anchor close to the beach, and Sanders made ready to get his load of perishable goods ashore and notify the authorities of the disaster up the bank.