Page:Weird Tales Volume 14 Issue 3 (1929-09).djvu/134

"'Yon is a matter aboot which nae mon can advise another, sir,' he said at length. 'It's something clean beyond the rules of seamanship and navigation. But speaking for myself, sir, if I were in command of this packet I'd shift my helm to the quarter where yon puir beastie seems trying to guide us.'

"I stood for a long while in thought after he had finished speaking. A young master mariner can make or mar his reputation on his first trip. I had been given the command over the heads of older and more experienced men, and I well knew that my conduct would be closely and jealously watched, and, if needs be, criticized. If I were to veer out of the usual track and ill came of it, I would be a marked man for the rest of my life—and I'd seen too many out-of-work shipmasters kicking their heels round the agents' offices not to know what that meant. On the other hand, there was the little white moth fluttering out the message that no sailor worth his salt can listen to unmoved, and pointing persistently to the south. I was not a man who loved taking chances, but—for good or ill—I determined to take one then.

"I turned briskly.

"'Pass the word to the quartermaster, Mr. McAndrew,' I ordered. 'The course is "West-South-West, quarter South"!'

"'Quarter South it is, sir,' the old Scotsman returned, with glistening eyes. Then he raised his hand and touched his cap reverently. 'May the good Lord reward ye if ye're doing right—and may He help ye if ye're not!'

"He went out on the bridge, and a few seconds after I saw the 'lubber-line,' which coincides with the head of the ship, veer round until it came abreast of the spot where the moth was resting, showing that we had swung on to the new course.

"Almost at the same moment, as though it knew that its mission had been accomplished, the little moth fell to the deck, quivered for an instant, and then was still for ever. I gently lifted the little dead messenger, placed it in an empty matchbox, and stowed it away in my locker. I have it still, and sometimes, when things go wrong and the world seems to be just a huge ant-hill of humanity ruled by blind chance and brute instincts, I take out that matchbox and look upon the tiny white moth that came to me in mid-Atlantic . . . and my faith is restored.

"For, thirty-six hours after changing course, we sighted the old Rangoon, outward-bound and crowded, and blazing from bridge to stern. Over a thousand souls lived to bless the change of course indicated by that little winged messenger, and among them was the lady who is now my wife. . . .

"And that's why I have a tender spot in my heart for the little light-blinded creatures which-flutter in out of the night."