Aolib.comFragment of Photochrom print of the front of Neuschwanstein Castle, Bavaria, Germany (ca. 1897)

"Where Angels Fear to Tread" and Other Stories of the Sea »


By Morgan Robertson

Sea stories, American

“Where Angels Fear to Tread” and Other Stories of the Sea

by

Morgan Robertson

Published by The Century Co.
New York M DCCC XC IX

Copyright, 1899, by
The Century Co.

Copyright, 1898, by Houghton, Mifflin & Co. Copyright, 1898, 1899, by The Curtis Publishing Co. Copyright, 1899, by Peter Fenelon Collier. Copyright, 1899, by Street & Smith. Copyright, 1897, 1898, by The S. S. McClure Co. Copyright, 1898, by Harper & Brothers.

TO ITS GODFATHER
JOHN S. PHILLIPS
THIS BOOK IS GRATEFULLY
DEDICATED

“’Where Angels Fear to Tread’” was first published in the “Atlantic Monthly”; “Salvage” in the “Century Magazine”; “The Brain of the Battle—Ship,” “The Wigwag Message,” “Between the Millstones,” and “The Battle of the Monsters,” in the “Saturday Evening Post”; “The Trade—Wind” in “Collier’s Weekly”; “From the Royal—Yard Down” in “Ainslee’s Magazine”; “Needs Must when the Devil Drives” and “When Greek Meets Greek” in McClure’s Syndicate; and “Primordial” in “Harper’s Monthly Magazine.”

To the publishers of these periodicals I am indebted for the privilege of republishing the stories in book form.

MORGAN ROBERTSON.

CONTENTS

PAGE

“WHERE ANGELS FEAR TO TREAD” 1

THE BRAIN OF THE BATTLE—SHIP 57

THE WIGWAG MESSAGE 88

THE TRADE—WIND 111

SALVAGE 137

BETWEEN THE MILLSTONES 170

THE BATTLE OF THE MONSTERS 193

FROM THE ROYAL—YARD DOWN 213

NEEDS MUST WHEN THE DEVIL DRIVES 233

WHEN GREEK MEETS GREEK 259

PRIMORDIAL 272

“WHERE ANGELS FEAR TO TREAD”

“I have seen wicked men and fools, a great many of each; and I believe they both get paid in the end, but the fools first.” ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON.

PART I

The first man to climb the Almena’s side—ladder from the tug was the shipping—master, and after him came the crew he had shipped. They clustered at the rail, looking around and aloft with muttered profane comments, one to the other, while the shipping—master approached a gray—eyed giant who stood with a shorter but broader man at the poop—deck steps.

“Mr. Jackson–the mate here, I s’pose?” inquired the shipping—master. A nod answered him. “I’ve brought you a good crew,” he continued; “we’ll just tally ’em off, and then you can sign my receipt. The captain’ll be down with the pilot this afternoon.”

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