The castings had flaws; they shattered asunder, the gears ground together, and the windlass was out of commission.Following upon that, the seventy-horse-power engine went out of commission.This engine came from New York; so did its bed-plate; there was a flaw in the bed-plate; there were a lot of flaws in the bed-plate; and the seventy-horse-power engine broke away from its shattered foundations, reared up in the air, smashed all connections and fastenings, and fell over on its side.And the Snark continued to stick between the spread ways, and the two tugs continued to haul vainly upon her.
"Never mind," said Charmian, "think of what a staunch, strong boat she is.""Yes," said I, "and of that beautiful bow."So we took heart and went at it again.The ruined engine was lashed down on its rotten foundation; the smashed castings and cogs of the power transmission were taken down and stored away--all for the purpose of taking them to Honolulu where repairs and new castings could be made.Somewhere in the dim past the Snark had received on the outside one coat of white paint.The intention of the colour was still evident, however, when one got it in the right light.The Snark had never received any paint on the inside.On the contrary, she was coated inches thick with the grease and tobacco-juice of the multitudinous mechanics who had toiled upon her.Never mind, we said; the grease and filth could be planed off, and later, when we fetched Honolulu, the Snark could be painted at the same time as she was being rebuilt.
By main strength and sweat we dragged the Snark off from the wrecked ways and laid her alongside the Oakland City Wharf.The drays brought all the outfit from home, the books and blankets and personal luggage.Along with this, everything else came on board in a torrent of confusion--wood and coal, water and water-tanks, vegetables, provisions, oil, the life-boat and the launch, all our friends, all the friends of our friends and those who claimed to be their friends, to say nothing of some of the friends of the friends of the friends of our crew.Also there were reporters, and photographers, and strangers, and cranks, and finally, and over all, clouds of coal-dust from the wharf.
We were to sail Sunday at eleven, and Saturday afternoon had arrived.The crowd on the wharf and the coal-dust were thicker than ever.In one pocket I carried a cheque-book, a fountain-pen, a dater, and a blotter; in another pocket I carried between one and two thousand dollars in paper money and gold.I was ready for the creditors, cash for the small ones and cheques for the large ones, and was waiting only for Roscoe to arrive with the balances of the accounts of the hundred and fifteen firms who had delayed me so many months.And then -And then the inconceivable and monstrous happened once more.Before Roscoe could arrive there arrived another man.He was a United States marshal.He tacked a notice on the Snark's brave mast so that all on the wharf could read that the Snark had been libelled for debt.The marshal left a little old man in charge of the Snark, and himself went away.I had no longer any control of the Snark, nor of her wonderful bow.The little old man was now her lord and master, and I learned that I was paying him three dollars a day for being lord and master.Also, I learned the name of the man who had libelled the Snark.It was Sellers; the debt was two hundred and thirty-two dollars; and the deed was no more than was to be expected from the possessor of such a name.Sellers! Ye gods! Sellers!
But who under the sun was Sellers? I looked in my cheque-book and saw that two weeks before I had made him out a cheque for five hundred dollars.Other cheque-books showed me that during the many months of the building of the Snark I had paid him several thousand dollars.Then why in the name of common decency hadn't he tried to collect his miserable little balance instead of libelling the Snark?
I thrust my hands into my pockets, and in one pocket encountered the cheque-hook and the dater and the pen, and in the other pocket the gold money and the paper money.There was the wherewithal to settle his pitiful account a few score of times and over--why hadn't he given me a chance? There was no explanation; it was merely the inconceivable and monstrous.
To make the matter worse, the Snark had been libelled late Saturday afternoon; and though I sent lawyers and agents all over Oakland and San Francisco, neither United States judge, nor United States marshal, nor Mr.Sellers, nor Mr.Sellers' attorney, nor anybody could be found.They were all out of town for the weekend.And so the Snark did not sail Sunday morning at eleven.The little old man was still in charge, and he said no.And Charmian and I walked out on an opposite wharf and took consolation in the Snark's wonderful bow and thought of all the gales and typhoons it would proudly punch.
"A bourgeois trick," I said to Charmian, speaking of Mr.Sellers and his libel; "a petty trader's panic.But never mind; our troubles will cease when once we are away from this and out on the wide ocean."And in the end we sailed away, on Tuesday morning, April 23, 1907.
We started rather lame, I confess.We had to hoist anchor by hand, because the power transmission was a wreck.Also, what remained of our seventy-horse-power engine was lashed down for ballast on the bottom of the Snark.But what of such things? They could be fixed in Honolulu, and in the meantime think of the magnificent rest of the boat! It is true, the engine in the launch wouldn't run, and the life-boat leaked like a sieve; but then they weren't the Snark;they were mere appurtenances.The things that counted were the water-tight bulkheads, the solid planking without butts, the bath-room devices--they were the Snark.And then there was, greatest of all, that noble, wind-punching bow.
