He discovered her near the town of Fairport, Long Island, one
afternoon. The vessel lay in one of the canals which reach
inward from the Great South Bay. She looked as if she might have
been there for some time. Evidently, at one period, the Jasper
B. had played a part in some catch-coin scheme of summer
entertainment; a scheme that had failed. Little trace of it
remained except a rotting wooden platform, roofless and built
close to the canal, and a gangway arrangement from this platform
to the deck of the vessel.

The Jasper B. had seen better days; even a landsman could tell
that. But from the blunt bows to the weather-scarred stern, on
which the name was faintly discernible, the hulk had an air about
it, the air of something that has lived; it was eloquent of a
varied and interesting past.

And, to complete the picture, there sat on her deck a gnarled and
brown old man. He smoked a short pipe which was partially hidden
in a tangle of beard that had once been yellowish red but was now
streaked with dirty white; he fished earnestly without apparent
result, and from time to time he spat into the water. Cleggett's
nimble fancy at once put rings into his ears and dowered him with
a history.

Cleggett noticed, as he walked aboard the vessel, that she seemed
to be jammed not merely against, but into the bank of the canal.
She was nearer the shore than he had ever seen a vessel of any
sort. Some weeds grew in soil that had lodged upon the deck; in
a couple of places they sprang as high as the rail. Weeds grew