So to this day that phantom steamer is still butting around in that deserted river, trying to find her way out.

More than one grave watchman has sworn to me that on drizzly, dismal nights, he has glanced fearfully down that forgotten river as he passed the head of the island, and seen the faint glow of the specter steamer's lights drifting through the distant gloom, and heard the muffled cough of her 'scape-pipes and the plaintive cry of her leadsmen.
In the absence of further statistics, I beg to close this chapter with one more reminiscence of 'Stephen.' Most of the captains and pilots held Stephen's note for borrowed sums, ranging from two hundred and fifty dollars upward.

Stephen never paid one of these notes, but he was very prompt and very zealous about renewing them every twelve months.
Of course there came a time, at last, when Stephen could no longer borrow of his ancient creditors; so he was obliged to lie in wait for new men who did not know him.

Such a victim was good-hearted, simple natured young Yates (I use a fictitious name, but the real name began, as this one does, with a Y).

Young Yates graduated as a pilot, got a berth, and when the month was ended and he stepped up to the clerk's office and received his two hundred and fifty dollars in crisp new bills, Stephen was there! His silvery tongue began to wag, and in a very little while Yates's two hundred and fifty dollars had changed hands.
The fact was soon known at pilot headquarters, and the amusement and satisfaction of the old creditors were large and generous.