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Murderers Island 13
"Chin" and "Chow," three Chinamen from Singapore who had replaced my black boys brought from the States. The afterguard had come on deck, also, almost as lightly clad as the crew, for most of them had discarded the pa jama habit for a sleeping garment for that of the sarong. There was Taylor, the navigator, a California engineer, small, wiry, a wonderful seaman and possessed of the calmest nerves under difficulty and danger I have ever seen; McNeil, the first officer, a big straight ex-Andover and Yale athlete; El Burghard, a hardy young ex-Columbia man; Cooper, from Florida, who had been an airman in France and Poland; Dresser the Dane, just come from three years spent in the Malayan jungle; and Zeller from Los Angeles. Of these all only Taylor and Mac and Red had started the voyage with me, when almost three years before I had sailed from Los Angeles in the little 88 ketch-rigged sea gypsy Wisdom to wander up and down the strange waters of the world. I had sailed then with a white crew, except for the cook and messboy. But one by one they had dropped away until now I had this queer collection of sailors.
Of all this crew I think the Chinamen and Little Johnny were the only ones who were really afraid at the name of Murderers' Island. Though the proper title of this island group in the Bay of Bengal was the Andamans, they could be called Murderers' Island in dead fact, for the only settlement on the entire group was at Port Blair, and at Port Blair the British have their convict colony for all the convicted but unhung