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PAGE 2

Captain Stormfield’s Visit to Heaven
by [?]

“Ay-ay, sir!”

“Pipe the stabboard watch! All hands on deck!”

“Ay-ay, sir!”

“Send two hundred thousand million men aloft to shake out royals and sky-scrapers!”

“Ay-ay, sir!”

“Hand the stuns’ls! Hang out every rag you’ve got! Clothe her from stem to rudder-post!”

“Ay-ay, sir!”

In about a second I begun to see I’d woke up a pretty ugly customer, Peters. In less than ten seconds that comet was just a blazing cloud of red-hot canvas. It was piled up into the heavens clean out of sight–the old thing seemed to swell out and occupy all space; the sulphur smoke from the furnaces–oh, well, nobody can describe the way it rolled and tumbled up into the skies, and nobody can half describe the way it smelt. Neither can anybody begin to describe the way that monstrous craft begun to crash along. And such another powwow–thousands of bo’s’n’s whistles screaming at once, and a crew like the populations of a hundred thousand worlds like ours all swearing at once. Well, I never heard the like of it before.

We roared and thundered along side by side, both doing our level best, because I’d never struck a comet before that could lay over me, and so I was bound to beat this one or break something. I judged I had some reputation in space, and I calculated to keep it. I noticed I wasn’t gaining as fast, now, as I was before, but still I was gaining. There was a power of excitement on board the comet. Upwards of a hundred billion passengers swarmed up from below and rushed to the side and begun to bet on the race. Of course this careened her and damaged her speed. My, but wasn’t the mate mad! He jumped at that crowd, with his trumpet in his hand, and sung out–

“Amidships! amidships, you! {1} or I’ll brain the last idiot of you!”

Well, sir, I gained and gained, little by little, till at last I went skimming sweetly by the magnificent old conflagration’s nose. By this time the captain of the comet had been rousted out, and he stood there in the red glare for’ard, by the mate, in his shirt- sleeves and slippers, his hair all rats’ nests and one suspender hanging, and how sick those two men did look! I just simply couldn’t help putting my thumb to my nose as I glided away and singing out:

“Ta-ta! ta-ta! Any word to send to your family?”

Peters, it was a mistake. Yes, sir, I’ve often regretted that–it was a mistake. You see, the captain had given up the race, but that remark was too tedious for him–he couldn’t stand it. He turned to the mate, and says he–

“Have we got brimstone enough of our own to make the trip?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Sure?”

“Yes, sir–more than enough.”

“How much have we got in cargo for Satan?”

“Eighteen hundred thousand billion quintillions of kazarks.”

“Very well, then, let his boarders freeze till the next comet comes. Lighten ship! Lively, now, lively, men! Heave the whole cargo overboard!”

Peters, look me in the eye, and be calm. I found out, over there, that a kazark is exactly the bulk of a HUNDRED AND SIXTY-NINE WORLDS LIKE OURS! They hove all that load overboard. When it fell it wiped out a considerable raft of stars just as clean as if they’d been candles and somebody blowed them out. As for the race, that was at an end. The minute she was lightened the comet swung along by me the same as if I was anchored. The captain stood on the stern, by the after-davits, and put his thumb to his nose and sung out–

“Ta-ta! ta-ta! Maybe YOU’VE got some message to send your friends in the Everlasting Tropics!”

Then he hove up his other suspender and started for’ard, and inside of three-quarters of an hour his craft was only a pale torch again in the distance. Yes, it was a mistake, Peters–that remark of mine. I don’t reckon I’ll ever get over being sorry about it. I’d ‘a’ beat the bully of the firmament if I’d kept my mouth shut.