Subscribe for ad free access & additional features for teachers. Authors: 267, Books: 3,607, Poems & Short Stories: 4,435, Forum Members: 71,154, Forum Posts: 1,238,602, Quizzes: 344

Chapter 2

He shook hands with me: "Well, there you are, on your own, appointed
officially under my responsibility."

He was actually walking with me to the door. What a distance off it
seemed! I moved like a man in bonds. But we reached it at last. I opened
it with the sensation of dealing with mere dream-stuff, and then at the
last moment the fellowship of seamen asserted itself, stronger than
the difference of age and station. It asserted itself in Captain Ellis'

"Good-bye--and good luck to you," he said so heartily that I could only
give him a grateful glance. Then I turned and went out, never to see him
again in my life. I had not made three steps into the outer office when
I heard behind my back a gruff, loud, authoritative voice, the voice of
our deputy-Neptune.

It was addressing the head Shipping-Master who, having let me in, had,
apparently, remained hovering in the middle distance ever since "Mr. R.,
let the harbour launch have steam up to take the captain here on board
the Melita at half-past nine to-night."

I was amazed at the startled alacrity of R's "Yes, sir." He ran before
me out on the landing. My new dignity sat yet so lightly on me that
I was not aware that it was I, the Captain, the object of this last
graciousness. It seemed as if all of a sudden a pair of wings had grown
on my shoulders. I merely skimmed along the polished floor.

But R. was impressed.

"I say!" he exclaimed on the landing, while the Malay crew of the
steam-launch standing by looked stonily at the man for whom they were
going to be kept on duty so late, away from their gambling, from their
girls, or their pure domestic joys. "I say! His own launch. What have
you done to him?"

His stare was full of respectful curiosity. I was quite confounded.

"Was it for me? I hadn't the slightest notion," I stammered out.

He nodded many times. "Yes. And the last person who had it before you
was a Duke. So, there!"

I think he expected me to faint on the spot. But I was in too much of a
hurry for emotional displays. My feelings were already in such a whirl
that this staggering information did not seem to make the slightest
difference. It merely fell into the seething cauldron of my brain, and
I carried it off with me after a short but effusive passage of
leave-taking with R.

The favour of the great throws an aureole round the fortunate object of
its selection. That excellent man enquired whether he could do anything
for me. He had known me only by sight, and he was well aware he would
never see me again; I was, in common with the other seamen of the port,
merely a subject for official writing, filling up of forms with all the
artificial superiority of a man of pen and ink to the men who grapple
with realities outside the consecrated walls of official buildings. What
ghosts we must have been to him! Mere symbols to juggle with in books
and heavy registers, without brains and muscles and perplexities;
something hardly useful and decidedly inferior.

And he--the office hours being over--wanted to know if he could be of
any use to me!

I ought--properly speaking--I ought to have been moved to tears. But I
did not even think of it. It was merely another miraculous manifestation
of that day of miracles. I parted from him as if he were a mere symbol.
I floated down the staircase. I floated out of the official and imposing
portal. I went on floating along.

I use that word rather than the word "flew," because I have a distinct
impression that, though uplifted by my aroused youth, my movements were
deliberate enough. To that mixed white, brown, and yellow portion of
mankind, out abroad on their own affairs, I presented the appearance
of a man walking rather sedately. And nothing in the way of abstraction
could have equalled my deep detachment from the forms and colours of
this world. It was, as it were, final.

And yet, suddenly, I recognized Hamilton. I recognized him without
effort, without a shock, without a start. There he was, strolling toward
the Harbour Office with his stiff, arrogant dignity. His red face made
him noticeable at a distance. It flamed, over there, on the shady side
of the street.

He had perceived me, too. Something (unconscious exuberance of spirits
perhaps) moved me to wave my hand to him elaborately. This lapse from
good taste happened before I was aware that I was capable of it.

The impact of my impudence stopped him short, much as a bullet might
have done. I verily believe he staggered, though as far as I could see
he didn't actually fall. I had gone past in a moment and did not turn my
head. I had forgotten his existence.

The next ten minutes might have been ten seconds or ten centuries for
all my consciousness had to do with it. People might have been falling
dead around me, houses crumbling, guns firing, I wouldn't have known.
I was thinking: "By Jove! I have got it." _It_ being the command. It had
come about in a way utterly unforeseen in my modest day-dreams.

I perceived that my imagination had been running in conventional
channels and that my hopes had always been drab stuff. I had envisaged a
command as a result of a slow course of promotion in the employ of some
highly respectable firm. The reward of faithful service. Well, faithful
service was all right. One would naturally give that for one's own sake,
for the sake of the ship, for the love of the life of one's choice; not
for the sake of the reward.

There is something distasteful in the notion of a reward.

And now here I had my command, absolutely in my pocket, in a way
undeniable indeed, but most unexpected; beyond my imaginings, outside
all reasonable expectations, and even notwithstanding the existence of
some sort of obscure intrigue to keep it away from me. It is true that
the intrigue was feeble, but it helped the feeling of wonder--as if I
had been specially destined for that ship I did not know, by some power
higher than the prosaic agencies of the commercial world.

A strange sense of exultation began to creep into me. If I had worked
for that command ten years or more there would have been nothing of the
kind. I was a little frightened.

"Let us be calm," I said to myself.

Outside the door of the Officers' Home the wretched Steward seemed to be
waiting for me. There was a broad flight of a few steps, and he ran
to and fro on the top of it as if chained there. A distressed cur. He
looked as though his throat were too dry for him to bark.

I regret to say I stopped before going in. There had been a revolution
in my moral nature. He waited open-mouthed, breathless, while I looked
at him for half a minute.

"And you thought you could keep me out of it," I said scathingly.

"You said you were going home," he squeaked miserably. "You said so. You
said so."

"I wonder what Captain Ellis will have to say to that excuse," I uttered
slowly with a sinister meaning.

His lower jaw had been trembling all the time and his voice was like the
bleating of a sick goat. "You have given me away? You have done for me?"

Neither his distress nor yet the sheer absurdity of it was able to
disarm me. It was the first instance of harm being attempted to be done
to me--at any rate, the first I had ever found out. And I was still
young enough, still too much on this side of the shadow line, not to be
surprised and indignant at such things.

I gazed at him inflexibly. Let the beggar suffer. He slapped his
forehead and I passed in, pursued, into the dining room, by his screech:
"I always said you'd be the death of me."

This clamour not only overtook me, but went ahead as it were on to the
verandah and brought out Captain Giles.

He stood before me in the doorway in all the commonplace solidity of
his wisdom. The gold chain glittered on his breast. He clutched a
smouldering pipe.

I extended my hand to him warmly and he seemed surprised, but did
respond heartily enough in the end, with a faint smile of superior
knowledge which cut my thanks short as if with a knife. I don't think
that more than one word came out. And even for that one, judging by the
temperature of my face, I had blushed as if for a bad action. Assuming a
detached tone, I wondered how on earth he had managed to spot the little
underhand game that had been going on.

He murmured complacently that there were but few things done in the town
that he could not see the inside of. And as to this house, he had been
using it off and on for nearly ten years. Nothing that went on in it
could escape his great experience. It had been no trouble to him. No
trouble at all.

Then in his quiet, thick tone he wanted to know if I had complained
formally of the Steward's action.

I said that I hadn't--though, indeed, it was not for want of
opportunity. Captain Ellis had gone for me bald-headed in a most
ridiculous fashion for being out of the way when wanted.

"Funny old gentleman," interjected Captain Giles. "What did you say to

"I said simply that I came along the very moment I heard of his message.
Nothing more. I didn't want to hurt the Steward. I would scorn to harm
such an object. No. I made no complaint, but I believe he thinks I've
done so. Let him think. He's got a fright he won't forget in a hurry,
for Captain Ellis would kick him out into the middle of Asia. . . ."

"Wait a moment," said Captain Giles, leaving me suddenly. I sat down
feeling very tired, mostly in my head. Before I could start a train of
thought he stood again before me, murmuring the excuse that he had to go
and put the fellow's mind at ease.

I looked up with surprise. But in reality I was indifferent. He
explained that he had found the Steward lying face downward on the
horsehair sofa. He was all right now.

"He would not have died of fright," I said contemptuously.

"No. But he might have taken an overdose out of one of them little
bottles he keeps in his room," Captain Giles argued seriously. "The
confounded fool has tried to poison himself once--a few years ago."

"Really," I said without emotion. "He doesn't seem very fit to live,

"As to that, it may be said of a good many."

"Don't exaggerate like this!" I protested, laughing irritably. "But I
wonder what this part of the world would do if you were to leave off
looking after it, Captain Giles? Here you have got me a command and
saved the Steward's life in one afternoon. Though why you should have
taken all that interest in either of us is more than I can understand."

Captain Giles remained silent for a minute. Then gravely:

"He's not a bad steward really. He can find a good cook, at any rate.
And, what's more, he can keep him when found. I remember the cooks we
had here before his time! . . ."

I must have made a movement of impatience, because he interrupted
himself with an apology for keeping me yarning there, while no doubt I
needed all my time to get ready.

What I really needed was to be alone for a bit. I seized this opening
hastily. My bedroom was a quiet refuge in an apparently uninhabited wing
of the building. Having absolutely nothing to do (for I had not unpacked
my things), I sat down on the bed and abandoned myself to the influences
of the hour. To the unexpected influences. . . .

And first I wondered at my state of mind. Why was I not more surprised?
Why? Here I was, invested with a command in the twinkling of an eye, not
in the common course of human affairs, but more as if by enchantment. I
ought to have been lost in astonishment. But I wasn't. I was very much
like people in fairy tales. Nothing ever astonishes them. When a fully
appointed gala coach is produced out of a pumpkin to take her to a ball,
Cinderella does not exclaim. She gets in quietly and drives away to her
high fortune.

Captain Ellis (a fierce sort of fairy) had produced a command out of a
drawer almost as unexpectedly as in a fairy tale. But a command is an
abstract idea, and it seemed a sort of "lesser marvel" till it flashed
upon me that it involved the concrete existence of a ship.

A ship! My ship! She was mine, more absolutely mine for possession
and care than anything in the world; an object of responsibility and
devotion. She was there waiting for me, spell-bound, unable to move,
to live, to get out into the world (till I came), like an enchanted
princess. Her call had come to me as if from the clouds. I had never
suspected her existence. I didn't know how she looked, I had barely
heard her name, and yet we were indissolubly united for a certain
portion of our future, to sink or swim together!

A sudden passion of anxious impatience rushed through my veins, gave me
such a sense of the intensity of existence as I have never felt before
or since. I discovered how much of a seaman I was, in heart, in mind,
and, as it were, physically--a man exclusively of sea and ships; the sea
the only world that counted, and the ships, the test of manliness, of
temperament, of courage and fidelity-and of love.

I had an exquisite moment. It was unique also. Jumping up from my seat,
I paced up and down my room for a long time. But when I came downstairs
I behaved with sufficient composure. I only couldn't eat anything at

Having declared my intention not to drive but to walk down to the quay,
I must render the wretched Steward justice that he bestirred himself
to find me some coolies for the luggage. They departed, carrying all
my worldly possessions (except a little money I had in my pocket) slung
from a long pole. Captain Giles volunteered to walk down with me.

We followed the sombre, shaded alley across the Esplanade. It was
moderately cool there under the trees. Captain Giles remarked, with a
sudden laugh: "I know who's jolly thankful at having seen the last of

I guessed that he meant the Steward. The fellow had borne himself to me
in a sulkily frightened manner at the last. I expressed my wonder that
he should have tried to do me a bad turn for no reason at all.

"Don't you see that what he wanted was to get rid of our friend Hamilton
by dodging him in front of you for that job? That would have removed him
for good. See?"

"Heavens!" I exclaimed, feeling humiliated somehow. "Can it be possible?
What a fool he must be! That overbearing, impudent loafer! Why! He
couldn't. . . . And yet he's nearly done it, I believe; for the Harbour
Office was bound to send somebody."

"Aye. A fool like our Steward can be dangerous sometimes," declared
Captain Giles sententiously. "Just because he is a fool," he added,
imparting further instruction in his complacent low tones. "For," he
continued in the manner of a set demonstration, "no sensible person
would risk being kicked out of the only berth between himself and
starvation just to get rid of a simple annoyance-a small worry. Would he

"Well, no," I conceded, restraining a desire to laugh at that something
mysteriously earnest in delivering the conclusions of his wisdom as
though it were the product of prohibited operations. "But that fellow
looks as if he were rather crazy. He must be."

"As to that, I believe everybody in the world is a little mad," he
announced quietly.

"You make no exceptions?" I inquired, just to hear his manner.

"Why! Kent says that even of you."

"Does he?" I retorted, extremely embittered all at once against my
former captain. "There's nothing of that in the written character from
him which I've got in my pocket. Has he given you any instances of my

Captain Giles explained in a conciliating tone that it had been only
a friendly remark in reference to my abrupt leaving the ship for no
apparent reason.

I muttered grumpily: "Oh! leaving his ship," and mended my pace. He
kept up by my side in the deep gloom of the avenue as if it were
his conscientious duty to see me out of the colony as an undesirable
character. He panted a little, which was rather pathetic in a way. But
I was not moved. On the contrary. His discomfort gave me a sort of
malicious pleasure.

Presently I relented, slowed down, and said:

"What I really wanted was to get a fresh grip. I felt it was time. Is
that so very mad?"

He made no answer. We were issuing from the avenue. On the bridge over
the canal a dark, irresolute figure seemed to be awaiting something or

It was a Malay policeman, barefooted, in his blue uniform. The silver
band on his little round cap shone dimly in the light of the street
lamp. He peered in our direction timidly.

Before we could come up to him he turned about and walked in front of us
in the direction of the jetty. The distance was some hundred yards; and
then I found my coolies squatting on their heels. They had kept the pole
on their shoulders, and all my worldly goods, still tied to the pole,
were resting on the ground between them. As far as the eye could reach
along the quay there was not another soul abroad except the police peon,
who saluted us.

It seems he had detained the coolies as suspicious characters, and had
forbidden them the jetty. But at a sign from me he took off the embargo
with alacrity. The two patient fellows, rising together with a faint
grunt, trotted off along the planks, and I prepared to take my leave of
Captain Giles, who stood there with an air as though his mission were
drawing to a close. It could not be denied that he had done it all. And
while I hesitated about an appropriate sentence he made himself heard:

"I expect you'll have your hands pretty full of tangled-up business."

I asked him what made him think so; and he answered that it was his
general experience of the world. Ship a long time away from her port,
owners inaccessible by cable, and the only man who could explain matters
dead and buried.

"And you yourself new to the business in a way," he concluded in a sort
of unanswerable tone.

"Don't insist," I said. "I know it only too well. I only wish you could
impart to me some small portion of your experience before I go. As it
can't be done in ten minutes I had better not begin to ask you. There's
that harbour launch waiting for me, too. But I won't feel really at
peace till I have that ship of mine out in the Indian Ocean."

He remarked casually that from Bangkok to the Indian Ocean was a pretty
long step. And this murmur, like a dim flash from a dark lantern, showed
me for a moment the broad belt of islands and reefs between that unknown
ship, which was mine, and the freedom of the great waters of the globe.

But I felt no apprehension. I was familiar enough with the Archipelago
by that time. Extreme patience and extreme care would see me through the
region of broken land, of faint airs, and of dead water to where I would
feel at last my command swing on the great swell and list over to the
great breath of regular winds, that would give her the feeling of a
large, more intense life. The road would be long. All roads are long
that lead toward one's heart's desire. But this road my mind's eye
could see on a chart, professionally, with all its complications and
difficulties, yet simple enough in a way. One is a seaman or one is not.
And I had no doubt of being one.

The only part I was a stranger to was the Gulf of Siam. And I mentioned
this to Captain Giles. Not that I was concerned very much. It belonged
to the same region the nature of which I knew, into whose very soul
I seemed to have looked during the last months of that existence with
which I had broken now, suddenly, as one parts with some enchanting

"The gulf . . . Ay! A funny piece of water--that," said Captain Giles.

Funny, in this connection, was a vague word. The whole thing sounded
like an opinion uttered by a cautious person mindful of actions for

I didn't inquire as to the nature of that funniness. There was really no
time. But at the very last he volunteered a warning.

"Whatever you do keep to the east side of it. The west side is dangerous
at this time of the year. Don't let anything tempt you over. You'll find
nothing but trouble there."

Though I could hardly imagine what could tempt me to involve my ship
amongst the currents and reefs of the Malay shore, I thanked him for the

He gripped my extended arm warmly, and the end of our acquaintance came
suddenly in the words: "Good-night."

That was all he said: "Good-night." Nothing more. I don't know what I
intended to say, but surprise made me swallow it, whatever it was. I
choked slightly, and then exclaimed with a sort of nervous haste: "Oh!
Good-night, Captain Giles, good-night."

His movements were always deliberate, but his back had receded some
distance along the deserted quay before I collected myself enough to
follow his example and made a half turn in the direction of the jetty.

Only my movements were not deliberate. I hurried down to the steps, and
leaped into the launch. Before I had fairly landed in her sternsheets
the slim little craft darted away from the jetty with a sudden swirl of
her propeller and the hard, rapid puffing of the exhaust in her vaguely
gleaming brass funnel amidships.

The misty churning at her stern was the only sound in the world. The
shore lay plunged in the silence of the deeper slumber. I watched the
town recede still and soundless in the hot night, till the abrupt hail,
"Steam-launch, ahoy!" made me spin round face forward. We were close to
a white ghostly steamer. Lights shone on her decks, in her portholes.
And the same voice shouted from her:

"Is that our passenger?"

"It is," I yelled.

Her crew had been obviously on the jump. I could hear them running
about. The modern spirit of haste was loudly vocal in the orders to
"Heave away on the cable"--to "Lower the sideladder," and in urgent
requests to me to "Come along, sir! We have been delayed three hours for
you. . . . Our time is seven o'clock, you know!"

I stepped on the deck. I said "No! I don't know." The spirit of modern
hurry was embodied in a thin, long-armed, long-legged man, with a
closely clipped gray beard. His meagre hand was hot and dry. He declared

"I am hanged if I would have waited another five minutes Harbour-Master
or no Harbour-Master."

"That's your own business," I said. "I didn't ask you to wait for me."

"I hope you don't expect any supper," he burst out. "This isn't a
boarding-house afloat. You are the first passenger I ever had in my life
and I hope to goodness you will be the last."

I made no answer to this hospitable communication; and, indeed, he
didn't wait for any, bolting away on to his bridge to get his ship under

The three days he had me on board he did not depart from that
half-hostile attitude. His ship having been delayed three hours on
my account he couldn't forgive me for not being a more distinguished
person. He was not exactly outspoken about it, but that feeling of
annoyed wonder was peeping out perpetually in his talk.

He was absurd.

He was also a man of much experience, which he liked to trot out; but no
greater contrast with Captain Giles could have been imagined. He would
have amused me if I had wanted to be amused. But I did not want to be
amused. I was like a lover looking forward to a meeting. Human hostility
was nothing to me. I thought of my unknown ship. It was amusement
enough, torment enough, occupation enough.

He perceived my state, for his wits were sufficiently sharp for that,
and he poked sly fun at my preoccupation in the manner some nasty,
cynical old men assume toward the dreams and illusions of youth. I, on
my side, refrained from questioning him as to the appearance of my ship,
though I knew that being in Bangkok every fortnight or so he must have
known her by sight. I was not going to expose the ship, my ship! to some
slighting reference.

He was the first really unsympathetic man I had ever come in contact
with. My education was far from being finished, though I didn't know it.
No! I didn't know it.

All I knew was that he disliked me and had some contempt for my person.
Why? Apparently because his ship had been delayed three hours on my
account. Who was I to have such a thing done for me? Such a thing had
never been done for him. It was a sort of jealous indignation.

My expectation, mingled with fear, was wrought to its highest pitch. How
slow had been the days of the passage and how soon they were over.
One morning, early, we crossed the bar, and while the sun was
rising splendidly over the flat spaces of the land we steamed up the
innumerable bends, passed under the shadow of the great gilt pagoda, and
reached the outskirts of the town.

There it was, spread largely on both banks, the Oriental capital which
had as yet suffered no white conqueror; an expanse of brown houses of
bamboo, of mats, of leaves, of a vegetable-matter style of architecture,
sprung out of the brown soil on the banks of the muddy river. It was
amazing to think that in those miles of human habitations there was not
probably half a dozen pounds of nails. Some of those houses of sticks
and grass, like the nests of an aquatic race, clung to the low shores.
Others seemed to grow out of the water; others again floated in long
anchored rows in the very middle of the stream. Here and there in the
distance, above the crowded mob of low, brown roof ridges, towered great
piles of masonry, King's Palace, temples, gorgeous and dilapidated,
crumbling under the vertical sunlight, tremendous, overpowering, almost
palpable, which seemed to enter one's breast with the breath of one's
nostrils and soak into one's limbs through every pore of one's skin.

The ridiculous victim of jealousy had for some reason or other to stop
his engines just then. The steamer drifted slowly up with the tide.
Oblivious of my new surroundings I walked the deck, in anxious, deadened
abstraction, a commingling of romantic reverie with a very practical
survey of my qualifications. For the time was approaching for me to
behold my command and to prove my worth in the ultimate test of my

Suddenly I heard myself called by that imbecile. He was beckoning me to
come up on his bridge.

I didn't care very much for that, but as it seemed that he had something
particular to say I went up the ladder.

He laid his hand on my shoulder and gave me a slight turn, pointing with
his other arm at the same time.

"There! That's your ship, Captain," he said.

I felt a thump in my breast--only one, as if my heart had then ceased to
beat. There were ten or more ships moored along the bank, and the one he
meant was partly hidden away from my sight by her next astern. He said:
"We'll drift abreast her in a moment."

What was his tone? Mocking? Threatening? Or only indifferent? I could
not tell. I suspected some malice in this unexpected manifestation of

He left me, and I leaned over the rail of the bridge looking over the
side. I dared not raise my eyes. Yet it had to be done--and, indeed, I
could not have helped myself. I believe I trembled.

But directly my eyes had rested on my ship all my fear vanished. It went
off swiftly, like a bad dream. Only that a dream leaves no shame behind
it, and that I felt a momentary shame at my unworthy suspicions.

Yes, there she was. Her hull, her rigging filled my eye with a great
content. That feeling of life-emptiness which had made me so restless for
the last few months lost its bitter plausibility, its evil influence,
dissolved in a flow of joyous emotion.

At first glance I saw that she was a high-class vessel, a harmonious
creature in the lines of her fine body, in the proportioned tallness of
her spars. Whatever her age and her history, she had preserved the
stamp of her origin. She was one of those craft that, in virtue of their
design and complete finish, will never look old. Amongst her companions
moored to the bank, and all bigger than herself, she looked like a
creature of high breed--an Arab steed in a string of cart-horses.

A voice behind me said in a nasty equivocal tone: "I hope you are
satisfied with her, Captain." I did not even turn my head. It was the
master of the steamer, and whatever he meant, whatever he thought of
her, I knew that, like some rare women, she was one of those creatures
whose mere existence is enough to awaken an unselfish delight. One feels
that it is good to be in the world in which she has her being.

That illusion of life and character which charms one in men's finest
handiwork radiated from her. An enormous bulk of teak-wood timber swung
over her hatchway; lifeless matter, looking heavier and bigger than
anything aboard of her. When they started lowering it the surge of the
tackle sent a quiver through her from water-line to the trucks up the
fine nerves of her rigging, as though she had shuddered at the weight.
It seemed cruel to load her so. . . .

Half an hour later, putting my foot on her deck for the first time, I
received the feeling of deep physical satisfaction. Nothing could equal
the fullness of that moment, the ideal completeness of that emotional
experience which had come to me without the preliminary toil and
disenchantments of an obscure career.

My rapid glance ran over her, enveloped, appropriated the form
concreting the abstract sentiment of my command. A lot of details
perceptible to a seaman struck my eye, vividly in that instant. For the
rest, I saw her disengaged from the material conditions of her being.
The shore to which she was moored was as if it did not exist. What were
to me all the countries of the globe? In all the parts of the world
washed by navigable waters our relation to each other would be the
same--and more intimate than there are words to express in the language.
Apart from that, every scene and episode would be a mere passing show.
The very gang of yellow coolies busy about the main hatch was less
substantial than the stuff dreams are made of. For who on earth would
dream of Chinamen? . . .

I went aft, ascended the poop, where, under the awning, gleamed the
brasses of the yacht-like fittings, the polished surfaces of the rails,
the glass of the skylights. Right aft two seamen, busy cleaning the
steering gear, with the reflected ripples of light running playfully
up their bent backs, went on with their work, unaware of me and of
the almost affectionate glance I threw at them in passing toward the
companion-way of the cabin.

The doors stood wide open, the slide was pushed right back. The
half-turn of the staircase cut off the view of the lobby. A low
humming ascended from below, but it stopped abruptly at the sound of my
descending footsteps.

Joseph Conrad

Sorry, no summary available yet.