<h2>STORY OF AN INSANE SAILOR.</h2>
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<p>"That pocket-piece of yours," said the doctor, "reminds me that I have
an interesting one of my own; perhaps you can tell me what it is." He
took from his pocket a silver coin and handed it to Jennings, as he
spoke. One edge had been flattened, and a hole pierced in it.</p>
<p>"Ah! an old Spanish piece," said Jennings, "evidently of the time of
Pope Leo Fourth, sometime in the sixteenth century. A very interesting
piece. Where did you get it?"</p>
<p>"There is a curious story connected with that coin," meditatively
remarked Dr. Watson; "perhaps you would like to hear it."</p>
<table summary="Coin Illustrations">
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<div class="figcenter"> <SPAN name="coins" id="coins"></SPAN> <ANTIMG src="images/152-coin1.jpg" width-obs="300" height-obs="358" alt="" title="" /></div>
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<div class="figcenter"> <ANTIMG src="images/152-coin2.jpg" width-obs="307" height-obs="358" alt="" title="" /></div>
</td></tr>
<tr><td colspan="2">
<p class="center caption">One Edge had been flattened and a Hole pierced in it.</p>
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<p>We had been dining with Watson and<!-- Page 153 --><span class='pagenum'><SPAN name="Page_153" id="Page_153"></SPAN></span> were now comfortably seated in the library before an old-fashioned open
fire. It was snowing outside, making the warm, bright study all the more
cheerful by contrast.</p>
<p>"Perhaps you remember," said Watson, "that during the winter of 1886 I
devoted much more of my time than usual to the Insane Asylum. I was very
much interested in testing the value of hypnotism for insane patients,
especially mild cases and those having illusions and insistent ideas. I
had been quite successful in one case—a woman who had tried to starve
herself to death under the impression that the devil commanded her not
to eat was greatly benefited by post-hypnotic suggestion. Suggesting
that the devil would not come any more induced pronounced hysteria, but
when hypnotized, and told that the devil commanded her to eat, instead
of to abstain from food, she took nourishment readily, and soon
developed an extraordinary appetite.</p>
<p><!-- Page 154 --><span class='pagenum'><SPAN name="Page_154" id="Page_154"></SPAN></span></p>
<p>"An immediate improvement in her condition was noticeable, and as her
general bodily health improved, the illusions became less and less
frequent, and she was discharged from the asylum as cured in less than
three months."</p>
<p>Watson paused and gazed meditatively at the end of his cigar. "Ever
tried to hypnotize an insane person, Jennings?"</p>
<p>"Not that I remember."</p>
<p>"You, Morris?"</p>
<p>"Can't say that I have."</p>
<p>"Hm! Well, sometimes you succeed, and sometimes you don't; more often
you don't. There was one patient, a man by the name of Allen, who had
been a sailor. He was subject to fits of extreme melancholia, and at
times was positively dangerous, as he imagined some one was trying to
poison him.</p>
<p>"I never succeeded in hypnotizing him, although I tried repeatedly.
However, I<!-- Page 155 --><span class='pagenum'><SPAN name="Page_155" id="Page_155"></SPAN></span> saw him every day, and as his general health improved, his
attacks of melancholia became less frequent. He seemed grateful to me
for taking an interest in him, and often talked with me about his early
life and the out-of-the-way countries he had visited. Shortly after I
was called away and did not return to the asylum for two weeks, and when
I did go back I found that Allen was dead. He had cut his throat one
afternoon with a large pocket-knife and made a mighty clean job of it,
too.</p>
<p>"Well," continued the doctor, "among his effects they found a package
addressed to me, which contained a letter and a silver coin. The coin
you now hold in your hand, the letter I have here in my desk."</p>
<p>He opened a drawer and took out a large yellow envelope containing a
number of pages of closely written manuscript.</p>
<p>"This letter," said Watson, as he<!-- Page 156 --><span class='pagenum'><SPAN name="Page_156" id="Page_156"></SPAN></span> slowly turned over the pages,
"contains a story so strange that I did not for a moment believe it had
any foundation in fact; but during the past year or two I have learned
certain things which have caused me to change my opinion. Whether the
story is true or not we will, of course, never know, but I <em>now</em> believe
that it is a true record of events which actually happened. I have made
some inquiries and find that the places mentioned do exist, or did at
the time this story was written, and—but never mind; I will read you
the letter and you can form your own conclusions:</p>
<p>"'<span class="smcap">Dr. S. T. Watson</span>:</p>
<p>"'<span class="smcap">Dear Sir</span>: I have made up my mind to kill myself, but before I die I
wish to make a confession of my wrong doings, as <em>he</em> insists that I
shall and I dare not disobey him. I therefore write this confession, to
be read by you after I am dead.</p>
<p><!-- Page 157 --><span class='pagenum'><SPAN name="Page_157" id="Page_157"></SPAN></span></p>
<p>"'You tell me I <em>imagine</em> I hear the voice and see the man. I tell you,
doctor, you who think me crazy are the one who is deceived. You do not
believe in telepathy and thought-transference, and yet I could tell many
times when you looked at me of what you were thinking. I tell you that I
hear Jim's voice as plainly as I ever heard yours, and he talks to me
and tells me that he will never leave me while I live, and then he
laughs. Oh, that laugh! He comes often at night and wakes me out of a
sound sleep with that awful laugh, and then he whispers to me to go to
sleep again. Of course you do not believe in spirits or ghosts, and you
believe I am crazy, and that the half-invisible form of my dead partner
which comes to me and talks to me, and whose voice I hear as plainly as
I ever heard yours, exists wholly in my imagination. Well, doctor, you
have been kind to me, and I hope and pray you will never<!-- Page 158 --><span class='pagenum'><SPAN name="Page_158" id="Page_158"></SPAN></span> suffer the way
I have suffered during the past three years.</p>
<p>"'Just three years ago to-day I was on board the "Ada Gray," a small
schooner off the coast of Florida, bound for the Isthmus. There were
seven of us in all, including the captain and mate, the latter an old
pal of mine who had arranged to get me in as one of the crew. In some
way he had learned that the captain was to take with him some two
thousand in gold, and although we had no plans, we intended to get the
gold in some way. On our way down we had talked over many schemes, but
none of them seemed satisfactory. The gold was kept in a small fireproof
safe in the captain's cabin, but it was an old-fashioned key-lock
affair, and we did not anticipate much trouble from that quarter, even
if we could not find the key. The great point was, how we were to get
the money and get away. At last we decided to drug the<!-- Page 159 --><span class='pagenum'><SPAN name="Page_159" id="Page_159"></SPAN></span> men's coffee,
and when they were sleeping from its effects, we would take the money
and leave in the schooner's yawl, in which, as the weather was very calm
and the Florida coast could be seen in the distance, we should have no
difficulty in making the shore.</p>
<p>"'Jim had overhauled the medicine chest and had found a vial containing
a lot of morphine pills marked one-eighth grain, and as neither he nor I
knew how much morphine it took to drug a man, he watched his opportunity
and emptied the contents of the vial into the coffee.</p>
<p>"'After supper we kept on deck for some time waiting results. At last
Jim went forward and reported everything quiet and the men apparently
all asleep. We found the captain in his cabin lying on his bunk
breathing heavily. The key to the safe was in the captain's pocket, and
we opened it without difficulty. There were six rolls of twenty-dollar
pieces marked two hundred<!-- Page 160 --><span class='pagenum'><SPAN name="Page_160" id="Page_160"></SPAN></span> dollars each, eight rolls of ten-dollar
pieces, and a bag of silver.</p>
<p>"'We took the money and some other things we found in the cabin,
including a pair of revolvers, a double-barrelled shot-gun, and a rifle,
and put them in the boat, together with a small keg of water, tinned
meat, and a bag of ship biscuit. After these were carefully stowed away
in the yawl, Jim went back to the cabin, while I busied myself arranging
things in the boat. He soon came on deck again bringing several bottles
of brandy, and coming to the side of the schooner reached them one by
one to me over the side. As he handed me the last bottle I saw the burly
form of our negro cook rise slowly out of the hatchway, rubbing his eyes
as if half asleep. Jim saw my stare of surprise, and, turning quickly,
faced the negro, who was looking at us with a dazed expression. He could
not have drunk of the coffee, for I have<!-- Page 161 --><span class='pagenum'><SPAN name="Page_161" id="Page_161"></SPAN></span> since learned the amount of
morphine Jim put in the pot was more than enough to kill the entire
crew.</p>
<p>"'Jim turned, and, walking slowly up to the man, said hoarsely: "Go
down," at the same time pointing to the hatchway.</p>
<p>"'"What for?" asked the negro, moving a step backward.</p>
<p>"'"None of your business what for; go down, I tell you."</p>
<p>"'"I don't take no orders from you, nohow," answered the man. "Where's
the captain?"</p>
<p>"'Without a word Jim struck him full in the face with all his strength.
The blow was an awful one, and the negro staggered back, and would have
fallen had not he brought up against the foremast. He roared with rage,
and came at Jim with a rush like a mad bull. Jim bent sideways, and
something flashed in his hand, as he struck upwards under the man's arm.</p>
<p><!-- Page 162 --><span class='pagenum'><SPAN name="Page_162" id="Page_162"></SPAN></span></p>
<p>"'Instantly the negro stumbled forward, and fell on the deck, and then
sat up and began to cough. He coughed incessantly, like a man who has
swallowed something which choked him. Jim looked at him a moment, and
then, without a word, cast off the painter and jumped into the boat.
There was not a breath of wind, so we each took an oar and pulled
towards the faint line of land just visible in the western horizon.</p>
<p>"'The schooner lay almost motionless, with the silence of death about
her. The negro had stopped coughing, and all was still, save the faint
creaking of the masts and spars and the sounds of our oars in the
rowlocks.</p>
<p>"'In the west the sun-painted clouds lay in great masses of gold and
purple, tinting the sea with ever-changing colors.</p>
<p>"'"Damn pretty sunset!" remarked Jim, as he drew in his oar, and bent
over to light<!-- Page 163 --><span class='pagenum'><SPAN name="Page_163" id="Page_163"></SPAN></span> his pipe, and then, musingly: "I wish I hadn't had to
kill that nigger."</p>
<p>"'Shortly after dark a gentle breeze sprung up from the southeast, and
we put up a little sail we had brought with us.</p>
<p>"'Fowley Rocks light was in plain sight, and about midnight we rounded
Cape Florida, and entered Biscayne Bay, and by daylight we made the
mouth of the Miami River, where we tied up to a small pier, owned by a
man named Brickle. On the other side of the river stood a long, low
stone building, which, they told us, was once used as a government
building, and was called Fort Dallas.</p>
<p>"'We told the people we had come from Key West, following the coast
along inside the keys, and were on a hunting and fishing trip. Upon
inquiry we learned that there was very little game about the bay except
crocodiles, but that we could get splendid sport by going up the river
into the everglades <!-- Page 164 --><span class='pagenum'><SPAN name="Page_164" id="Page_164"></SPAN></span>and following the shore line north to New River.
They advised us to get an Indian to go with us. This plan suited us
exactly, as once having disappeared in the wilderness we could come out
at some other point, and having assumed new names could go forth into
the world in perfect safety.</p>
<p>"'Before starting we bought a light flat-bottomed boat for use in
shallow water, and after rowing up the river a few miles we made camp
and burned the yawl, first breaking her up with our axes. This took up
the greater part of the day. In the afternoon Jim went up to the head of
the river and reported meeting an Indian who told him of a large island
which was, as near as he could judge, about thirty miles to the north,
on which there were deer and turkeys.</p>
<p>"'We had plenty of provisions, and for three days we pushed our boat
northward<!-- Page 165 --><span class='pagenum'><SPAN name="Page_165" id="Page_165"></SPAN></span> among the islands of the great grassy lake. In many places
the water was so shallow we had to push our way through grass and reeds.
We noticed a great many white flowers growing on the banks of the
islands, and water-lilies were abundant, but they had no smell.</p>
<p>"'Towards evening, on the third day, we landed on a large island on
which there was a high mound. Hundreds of white herons and various other
kinds of birds were nesting in the trees, and there were a good many
ducks about. We shot some of the herons and cut off the long hair-like
plumes, but the flesh was strong and unpalatable. The ducks, however,
were very good.</p>
<p>"'We camped on the mound, which was much higher than the rest of the
island, and decided to stay there for a day or two. While putting up the
tent I saw something shine, and picked up a silver coin which<!-- Page 166 --><span class='pagenum'><SPAN name="Page_166" id="Page_166"></SPAN></span> had
evidently been worn as a medal, as one edge had been flattened and a
hole pierced in it. There was no date, but it was evidently very old.</p>
<p>"'That day we tried fishing, and shot several ducks. We had but one
shot-gun, so took turns with it at the ducks.</p>
<p>"'That evening Jim produced an old pack of cards from his pocket and
suggested a game of poker. My luck went against me from the beginning,
and when we stopped playing I had lost fully two-thirds of my share. The
next morning I awoke feeling remorseful and sulky, and demanded that Jim
play another game to give me a chance to get even. He assented readily
enough, but my bad luck continued, and in an hour I had lost all of my
money and had nothing left to bet. Jim got up, taking the gun, and went
down to the boat to repair a leak which had bothered us the day before.
I sat on a log, inwardly raging and cursing<!-- Page 167 --><span class='pagenum'><SPAN name="Page_167" id="Page_167"></SPAN></span> myself for my foolishness.
The rifle was leaning against the log near me, and involuntarily I took
it and dropped the lever to see if it was loaded. It was empty, and the
hammer moved back and forth at the touch of my finger. Evidently the
spring was broken. But how? Why? I felt in my pocket for my revolver
with feverish haste. Gone. Then I understood!</p>
<p>"'I rose and walked slowly down the slope of the mound, and nearly
stepped on a large rattlesnake which lay coiled up beside a palmetto
root. I looked at the snake as he lay there watching me, rattling
angrily all the while, and then I looked at Jim's coat which hung on a
branch near by, and at the doctored rifle in my hand, and the more I
looked the more wicked thoughts came into my mind. I glanced towards
Jim; he was apparently busy with the boat, and I could just see the top
of his back as he bent over. I hastily fastened one of the<!-- Page 168 --><span class='pagenum'><SPAN name="Page_168" id="Page_168"></SPAN></span> dead herons
to a stick and held it in front of the snake, which immediately struck
it in the breast, and then uncoiled and slowly retreated into the scrub.
Taking two pins from my coat, I inserted them into the holes made by the
fangs of the rattlesnake, and took them out covered with blood and
poison. In a few minutes this dried, and I then fastened the pins inside
the arm of Jim's coat in such a way that his hand would be scratched
when he put it on.</p>
<p>"'This done, I hung the coat back on the branch and walked off a little
way, but feeling more than half inclined to go back and take the pins
out again while there was yet time. Perhaps Jim did not mean to kill me,
but simply wished to protect himself against treachery on my part;—but
then I remembered the negro and the morphine, and—well, dead men tell
no tales. As I turned to go back, I saw Jim in the act of taking down
his coat, and I felt a queer<!-- Page 169 --><span class='pagenum'><SPAN name="Page_169" id="Page_169"></SPAN></span> choky sensation in my throat and a sort of
half catch to my breath as he pushed his arm through the sleeve, at the
same time putting the back of his hand to his lips in a way that could
only have one meaning. I watched him with an ugly feeling of
satisfaction, wondering how long it would take for the poison to begin
to take effect.</p>
<p>"'Jim put a couple of sticks on the fire, and then sat down on a log and
commenced to fill his pipe, but soon laid it down. "Curse it!" he said;
"I feel queer."</p>
<p>"'He got up and walked up and down, rubbing his arm. He looked at me in
an odd sort of way once or twice, and then went into the tent and lay
down. Shortly after he called to me, and on my going to the door of the
tent he tried to rise, but fell back and became delirious, laughing and
shouting my name, and muttering to himself. He breathed with difficulty,
and in a little while became unconscious, and just as<!-- Page 170 --><span class='pagenum'><SPAN name="Page_170" id="Page_170"></SPAN></span> the sun was
sinking over the faint line of trees in the west he died.</p>
<p>"'I took down the tent and dug a hole and buried him where he lay. I
built a huge fire and sat by it all night without closing my eyes.
Towards morning the moon came up and the sounds of the night noises
ceased, and as soon as it was light I put the gold and what things I
needed in the boat and made haste to leave the island. I paddled for two
or three hours before I noticed that the sun, which had been to my right
when I started, was at my left, and I knew that I must have turned the
boat around.</p>
<p>"'I turned about and paddled on steadily all day long, but night found
me with no signs of dry land anywhere, nothing but an unending stretch
of grass and water as far as the eye could reach.</p>
<p>"'When it grew dark I lay down in the bottom of the boat and tried to
sleep; but<!-- Page 171 --><span class='pagenum'><SPAN name="Page_171" id="Page_171"></SPAN></span> as soon as I closed my eyes I felt cold all over, a creepy
sort of cold, and heard voices whispering. At first I told myself they
were not voices, 'twas a trick of my imagination, the wind, perhaps, or
the rustle of the grass about me; but then I heard Jim's voice. There
could be no mistaking his horrid, sneering laugh; it made me afraid, but
do what I would I could not help hearing it. I stopped my ears and
wrapped my head in my coat; but still, from time to time, I could hear
the voices whispering, and Jim's laugh, and at times I felt cold.</p>
<p>"'The next day I poled and paddled until late in the afternoon. I felt
very hot, and my head ached as though it would split. I had a pain in
the back of my neck and drank a great deal of water. I knew I had some
sort of a fever, but having no medicine I could do nothing but push on,
hoping to find my way to dry land.</p>
<p><!-- Page 172 --><span class='pagenum'><SPAN name="Page_172" id="Page_172"></SPAN></span></p>
<p>"'All that day I continually heard Jim's voice laughing at me, and the
next I knew I found myself in an Indian camp, and was told that I had
been found in the boat sick. The gold was gone; the Indians claimed it
was not in the boat. One of them seemed to be a chief and wore a big
turban on his head with a silver band around it. They told me his name
was Tom Tiger.</p>
<p>"'And now, doctor, good-by. Jim is whispering to me again and telling me
it is time. In five minutes after I sign this I shall be dead. I shall
make no mistake. My knife is very sharp.</p>
<p class="lettersig3">
"'<span class="smcap">John Allen</span>.'"</p>
<p><!-- Page 173 --><span class='pagenum'><SPAN name="Page_173" id="Page_173"></SPAN></span></p>
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