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Judith KINNEAR | Marjory MARTIN

NATURE OF
BIOLOGY

2
VCE UNITS 3 AND 4 FIFTH EDITION
 nature of
biology

2
VCE Units 3 and 4 fifth edition
 nature of
biology

2
VCE Units 3 and 4 fifth edition

Judith Kinnear
Marjory Martin
Fifth edition published 2017 by
John Wiley & Sons Australia, Ltd
42 McDougall Street, Milton, Qld 4064
First edition published 1992
Second edition published 2000
Third edition published 2006
Fourth edition published 2013
Typeset in 10.5/12 pt Utopia Std
© Judith Kinnear and Marjory Martin 1992, 2000, 2006, 2013, 2017
The moral rights of the authors have been asserted.
National Library of Australia
Cataloguing-in-Publication entry

Creator: Kinnear, Judith, author.

Title: Nature of biology. Book 2: VCE units 3 and 4 /
Judith Kinnear, Marjory Martin.
Edition: Fifth edition.
ISBN: 978-0-7303-2878-0 (set)
978-0-7303-2882-7 (ebook)
978-0-7303-2879-7 (paperback)
978-0-7303-3110-0 (studyON)
Notes: Includes index.
Target Audience: For secondary school age.
Subjects: Biology—Study and teaching (Secondary)
Biology—Textbooks.
Biology—Problems, exercises, etc.
Victorian Certificate of Education examination—Study guides.
Other Creators/
Contributors: Martin, Marjory, author.
Dewey Number: 570.712

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This book is dedicated to friends and colleagues
who generously shared their stories.
Contents
Preface x Explaining enzyme specificity 86
About eBookPLUS and studyON  xi Mode of action of enzymes 87
About this book xii Factors affecting enzyme activity 90
Acknowledgements xiv Enzymes can be inhibited 92
Enzyme’s little helpers 95
Biologist at work 97
Unit 3 Biochallenge 99
Chapter review 100
Area of study 1

Chapter 1 Chapter 4

Cells: a review 1 Energy transfers and

Cells: the basic units of life 2 transformations 103
Prokaryotes: no nuclear envelope! 8 Life support in space 104
Plasma membrane: the gatekeeper 11 Photosynthesis: energy from the sun 109
Functions of the plasma membrane 16 Photosynthesis in action 119
Crossing the plasma membrane 18 Rate of photosynthesis 127
The role of different organelles in the export Dangers in confined spaces 129
of protein from the cell 29 Purpose of cellular respiration 132
Biology in the workplace 33 Stages of aerobic respiration 142
Biochallenge 34
Mitochondria: the powerhouses 149
Chapter review 35
Biochallenge 154
Chapter 2 Chapter review 155

Nucleic acids and proteins: a review 39 Area of study 2

Organic molecules 40
Nucleic acids 41 Chapter 5
Gene structure 44 Cellular signals 159
Gene sequencing 44
Signals for communication 160
Nature of the genetic code 47
Stages in ‘cell chatter’ 165
Proteins 50
Chemical signals in animals 171
A closer look at a gene 57
Chemical signalling in plants 185
Protein synthesis 59
Chemical signals: plant hormones 186
Transcription: copying the original 59
Apoptosis: programmed cell death 205
Translation: decoding genetic instructions 61
Genes have various functions 66 Biochallenge 213
Time and place for everything 67 Chapter review 214
Gene regulation in bacteria 71
Chapter 6
Biochallenge 73
Chapter review 74 Pathogens all around us 217
Bubonic plague or black death 218
Chapter 3
The germ theory of disease 222
Enzymes and biochemical pathways 77 Microbes are all around us 225
The plague of the sea 78 Pathogens: cellular and non-cellular 232
What is an enzyme? 81 Meet some pathogens! 236
 Bacteria and human diseases 236 Biologist at work 406
Viruses: non-cellular pathogens 245 Speciation 408
Prions: a new kind of pathogen 253 Mutations: source of new alleles 410
Other prion diseases 256 Types of mutations 416
Self or non-self? 260 Manipulating gene pools 422
Transplantation in Australia 265 Selective breeding in action 423
Biochallenge 272 Technologies in selective breeding 429
Chapter review 274 Biologists at work 436
Biochallenge 438
Chapter 7 Chapter review 439
Immune defences against Chapter 10
pathogens 277 Changes in biodiversity over time 443
Inflammation of the gut 278
Species: unchanging or not? 444
Immunity: defence against infection 279 Time scales in evolution 452
The innate immune system 287 How old is it? 456
Cells of the innate immune system 291 Changing life forms over time 461
Humoral innate immunity 298 Fossils: evidence of past life 467
The inflammatory response 302 Evidence of biological change over time 474
The common cold 306 Biologist at work 480
Adaptive immunity 308 Biogeography: biogeographic distributions 483
Cells of adaptive immunity 317 Patterns of biological change 487
B cells: antibody factories 319 Biologist at work 495
Biologist at work 321 Biochallenge 499
T cells: helpers and killers 322 Chapter review 500
Antigen-presenting cells 325
Chapter 11
Helper T cells 327
Biologist at work 330 How are species related? 503
Biochallenge 331 Being related 504
Chapter review 332 Comparing proteins 508
Comparing DNA  510
Chapter 8
The ‘molecular clock’ concept 518
Immunity: types and deficiencies 335 Showing relatedness 521
Gardasil: a protective vaccine 336 Cichlids of the African Lakes 529
Specific immunity 337 BMP4 in Darwin’s finches 532
Herd immunity 346 Biology in the workplace 535
The boy in the bubble 349 Biochallenge 536
Defects of the immune system 350 Chapter review 538
Monoclonal antibodies 363 Chapter 12
Biologists at work 367
Biochallenge 371
Human changes over time 541
Chapter review 373 Our place in the living world 542
Classification of the human species 542
Classifications can change 552
Unit 4 Evolution of the primates 553
Hominin evolution: where did it begin? 556
Area of study 1
The beginning: the prehuman hominins 565
Chapter 9 Scientist at work 567
Changes in genetic make-up The prehuman hominin family 568
The genus Homo: human at last! 576
of populations 377 Views of human evolution 594
Can you drink milk? 378 Changing lifestyles of H. sapiens 596
Inherited variation in populations 382 Changes in human populations 599
Genes in populations 392 Biochallenge 608
Change agents in populations 395 Chapter review 609

viii Contents
 Area of study 2 Chapter 15

Chapter 13 Manipulating genes in organisms 699

DNA manipulation techniques 611 1970s: Genetic engineering begins 700
GMOs in agriculture 706
A recipe for gene editing 612 Biologist at work 717
Tools to manipulate DNA  616 Debate about GMOs continues 721
More tools for manipulating DNA  623 Biochallenge 723
Transforming bacteria 629 Chapter review 724
Biologist at work 634
Chapter 16
Biochallenge 636
Chapter review 637 Biological knowledge in response
to disease 727
Chapter 14 Death in war and peace 728
DNA applications in society 641 Pandemic or epidemic? 730
Meet the influenza A virus 735
Insulin: a life saver 642
The changing influenza virus 740
Making recombinant insulin using cloned
Rational drug design 743
genes 648
Identifying pathogens 748
Testing to identify genetic status 655
Biologist at work 750
Use of DNA in identification 666
Defence against infection 752
DNA profiling in Australia 674
Drug resistance is emerging 757
Biologist at work 681 Biochallenge 760
Identification in mass disasters 683 Chapter review 761
DNA and paternity testing 684
Chapter 17
Biologist at work 684
DNA profiles are not just for Practical investigations
people! 686
Biochallenge 693 Appendix 765
Chapter review 695 Glossary 767
Index 781

Contents ix
Preface
This fifth edition of Nature of Biology Book 2 builds on the Walter and Eliza Hall Research Institute in Melbourne
previous editions that were positively received by teachers introduces students to some of the outstanding researchers
and students of biology. It has been thoroughly revised who are involved in cutting-edge research programs.
and updated, and reflects current curriculum decisions It is our hope that the range of profiles may inspire some
regarding the key knowledge and skills expected of biology readers to explore the domain of biology further through
students. their tertiary studies and become the researchers and the
This book seeks to convey a multifaceted sense of practitioners of the future, or the inspiring teachers of
biology: as a rigorous scientific discipline with explanatory future students of biology.
models that organise the living world for us in a mean- We have enjoyed writing this book and we hope that our
ingful way; as a dynamic science whose explanations are readers will also enjoy reading the text and exploring the
subject to testing and change, rather than as a fixed and visual images, and gain confidence as they grapple with
unchanging body of knowledge; as a science that impacts and master the questions associated with each chapter.
on everyday life, both at the level of the individual and at This project was greatly enhanced by the generous
a societal level. cooperation of many academic colleagues and friends.
We continue to emphasise recent developments in bio- In particular, we owe a special debt of gratitude to the
technology as exemplified by the CRISPR gene-editing following:
technique, monoclonal antibodies and an update on
genetically modified organisms (GMOs), both plant and Matthew Ames and family, Ivy and Van Steel and family, Dr
animal. We have placed emphasis on examples relevant Robyn Pickering (University of Cape Town), Dr Christophe
to Australia, including the establishment of the Australian Lasseur (European Space Agency), Christine Tomlin
Criminal Intelligence Commission (ACIC) in 2016, trends (Zoos Victoria, Healesville), Brian Versteeg (Canada),
in organ and tissue transplantation, as well as examples of Professor Dietrich Stout (Emory University), Dr Olivier
global interest such as the spread of the Zika virus. New Schwartz (Insitut Pasteur, Paris), Professor Gillian Griffiths
material in the fifth edition includes updates relating (Cambridge Instutute for Medical Research), Dr Vanessa
to continuing curriculum topics, such as hominin evol- Solomon (WEHI), Penny Fannin (WEHI), Dr Song Tan
ution, and new material that reflects curriculum changes, (Penn State University), Professor Colin Brooks (University
including the immune system’s components, mode of of Newcastle, UK), Professor Nina van Sorge (University
operation and the defects that can arise. Importantly, to Medical Centre, Utrecht), Dr Heinrich Feldmann (NIH/
provide the context for the study of the immune system, NIAID, USA), Elizabeth Fischer (NIH/NIAID, USA), Dr Jessie
we have provided coverage of the types of microbes and Maisano (University of Texas), Dave Conley (AquaBounty
agents that cause the myriad diseases against which our Technologies), Dr Kristin Friedrich (La Brea Tar Pits and
immune system provides defence. Museum), Dr Linzi Wilson-Wilde (ANZPAA NIFS), Dr
Included in each unit are examples to assist students Jessica Mazerik (NCI, Office of Cancer Genomics), Dr Kate
to understand how biological knowledge and skills are Charlton-Robb (Australian Marine Mammal Conservation
applied in a variety of settings. Throughout the book, Foundation), Steven Mileto (Monash University), Dr Alex
the history of various significant discoveries, such as the Johnson (University of Melbourne), Catherine Cavallo
hormone insulin and the Taung fossil, is outlined so that (Monash University), Sonia Sanchez (Monash University),
students may appreciate how advances in biology have Dr Dadna Hartman (Victorian Institute of Forensic
been achieved. Likewise, aspects of the development of Medicine), Professor John Paterson (University of New
key concepts, such as the germ theory and the theory of England), Professor Leigh Ackland (Deakin University),
evolution by natural selection, are described to illustrate Drew Berry (WEHI), Professor Marie-Liesse Asselin-
that theories must be based on evidence and be subject Labat (WEHI), Susie Moreton (Epworth Hospital), Shaun
to testing. The ‘Biologist at work’ profiles are intended McKenna (Creative Photography), Professor Peter Timms
to increase student awareness of vocational opportuni­ (University of the Sunshine Coast), Frank Oncken (Stone
ties. Updated or new profiles introduce a range of people Hill Construction Inc. VA, USA), Jonathan Franks and
working in diverse roles. In particular, the updated box on Dr Donna Stolz (University of Pittsburg).

x Preface
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 About this book
Nature of Biology 2 VCE Units 3 and 4 has the following features:

an overview of the
Key knowledge and
outcomes addressed in
this chapter
references to studyon
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xii about this book

Biochallenge sections
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data.

the studyon topic review

has additional multiple
choice, short answer
and extended response
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used in the chapter to
enhance the vocabulary
of the student is provided.

Chapter review questions

check and challenge
students’ understanding.

about this book xiii

Another random document with
no related content on Scribd:
The Project Gutenberg eBook of The seven
missionaries
This ebook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States
and most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no
restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it
under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this
ebook or online at www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the
United States, you will have to check the laws of the country where
you are located before using this eBook.

Title: The seven missionaries

Author: H. C. McNeile

Illustrator: George W. Gage

Release date: July 25, 2024 [eBook #74118]

Language: English

Original publication: New York: McClure Publishing Company, 1923

Credits: Roger Frank and Sue Clark

*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE SEVEN

MISSIONARIES ***
 The seven missionaries seemed very decent fellows, even if they did fail
somewhat signally to add to the general gaiety

THE SEVEN MISSIONARIES

By Major H. C. McNeile
Illustrations by G. W. Gage

Jim Maitland Encounters Modern Pirates Aboard the “Andaman”

It never really got much beyond the rumor stage--Captain James

Kelly of the S. S. Andaman saw to that. It wouldn’t have done him
any good, or his line, and since England was troubled with railway
strikes and war scares at Agadir, things which happened on the
other side of the globe were apt to be crowded out of the
newspapers.
But he couldn’t stop the rumors, and “Our Special Correspondent”
in Colombo made out quite a fair story for his paper at home. It
didn’t appear; seemingly the editor thought the poor devil had taken
to drink and was raving. In fact, all that did appear in the papers
were two short and apparently disconnected notices. The first ran
somewhat as follows, and was found under the Shipping
Intelligence:
 “The S. S. Andaman arrived yesterday at Colombo. She remained
to carry out repairs to her wireless, and will leave tomorrow for
Plymouth.”
And the second appeared some two or three months after:
“No news has yet been heard of the S. Y. Firefly, which left
Colombo some months ago for an extensive cruise in the Indian
Ocean. It is feared that she may have foundered with all hands in
one of the recent gales.”
But she didn’t—the sea was as calm as the proverbial duck pond
when the S. Y. Firefly went down in a thousand fathoms of water not
far from the Cocos Islands. And but for the grace of Heaven and Jim
Maitland that fate would have overtaken the good Andaman instead.
And so for your eyes only, Mrs. Jim, I will put down the real facts
of the case. For your eyes only, I say, because I’m not absolutely
sure that legally speaking he was quite justified.

The S. S. Andaman was a vessel of some three thousand tons. She

was in reality a cargo boat carrying passengers, in that passengers
were the secondary consideration. There was only one class, and the
accommodation was sufficient for about thirty people. Twelve knots
was her maximum speed, and she quivered like jelly if you tried to
get more out of her. And last, but not least, Captain James Kelly had
been her skipper for ten years, and loved her with the love only
given to men who go down to the sea in ships.
When Jim and I went on board she was taking in cargo, and Kelly
was busy. He was apparently having words with the harbor master
over something, and the argument had reached the dangerous stage
of politeness. But Jim had sailed in her before, and a minute or two
later a delighted chief steward was shaking hands with him warmly.
“This is great, sir!” he cried. “We got a wireless about the berths,
but we had no idea it was from you.”
“You can fix us up, Bury?” asked Jim.
“Sure thing, Mr. Maitland,” answered the other. “We’ve only got
twelve on board: two Yanks, a colored gentleman, two ladies and a
missionary bunch.” We had followed him below and he was showing
us our cabins. “Seven of ’em, sir,” he went on, “with two crates of
Bibles and prayer books, all complete. Maybe you saw them sitting
around on deck as you came on board.”
“Can’t say I did, Bury,” said Jim indifferently.

They never go ashore, sir,” continued the steward. “We’ve been

making all the usual calls, and you’d have thought they’d have liked
to go ashore and stretch their legs—but they didn’t. There they sit
from morning till night reading and praying, till they fairly give you
the hump.”
“It doesn’t sound like one long scream of excitement,” said Jim.
“But if they’re happy, that’s all that matters. Come on, Dick. Let’s go
up and see if old man Kelly is still being polite.”
We went on deck to find that the argument was finished, and with
a shout of delight the skipper recognized Jim. Jim went forward to
meet him, and for a moment or two I stood where I was, idly
watching the scene on the quay. And then quite distinctly I heard a
voice from behind me say, “By God! It’s Jim Maitland.” Now as a
remark it was so ordinary when Jim was about that I never gave it a
thought. In that part of the world one heard it, or its equivalent,
whenever one entered a hotel or even a railway carriage.
And so, as I say, I didn’t give it a thought for a moment or two,
until Jim’s voice hailed me, and I turned around to be introduced to
the skipper. It was then that I noticed two benevolent-looking
clergymen seated close to me in two deck chairs. Their eyes were
fixed on the skipper and on Jim, while two open Bibles adorned their
knees. Not another soul was in sight; there was not the slightest
doubt in my mind that it was one of them who had spoken. And as I
stood talking with the skipper and Jim my mind was subconsciously
working.
There was no reason, of course, why a missionary should not
recognize Jim, but somehow or other one does not expect a devout
man with a Bible lying open on his knee to invoke the name of the
Almighty quite so glibly. If he had said “Dear me!” or “Good
gracious!” it would have been different. But the other came as
almost a shock. However, the matter was a small one, and probably
I should have dismissed it from my mind, but for the sequel a
minute or two later. The skipper was called away on some matter,
and Jim and I strolled back past the two parsons. They both looked
up at us with mild interest as we passed, but neither of them gave
the faintest sign of recognition.

Now that did strike me as strange. A Clergyman may swear if he

likes, but why in the name of fortune he should utterly ignore a man
whom he evidently knew was beyond me.
“Come and lean over the side, Jim,” I said, when we were out of
earshot. “I want to tell you something funny. Only don’t look
around.”
He listened in silence, and when I ended he said:
“More people know Tom Fool, old boy, than Tom Fool knows. I
certainly don’t know either of those two sportsmen, but it’s more
than likely they know me, at any rate by sight. And wouldn’t you
swear if you had to wear a dog collar in this heat?”
Evidently Jim was inclined to dismiss the episode as trifling, and
after a time I came around to the same view. Even at lunch that day,
when the skipper was formally introducing us and the clergyman still
gave no sign of claiming any previous acquaintance with Jim, I
thought no more about it. Possibly to substantiate that claim he
might have had to admit his presence in some place which would
take a bit of explaining away to his little flock. For the man whose
voice I had heard was evidently the shining light of the bunch.
He turned out to be the Reverend Samuel Longfellow, and his
destination, as that of all the others, was Colombo. They were going
to open a missionary house somewhere in the interior of Ceylon, and
run it on novel lines of their own. But at that point Jim and I got out
of our depths and the conversation languished. However, they
seemed very decent fellows, even if they did fail somewhat signally
to add to the general gaiety.
The voyage pursued its quiet, normal course for the first four or
five days. The two Americans and the skipper made up the
necessary numbers for a game of poker; the two ladies—mother and
daughter they were by the name of Armstrong—knitted; the seven
parsons prayed, and the colored gentleman effaced himself. The
weather was perfect; the sea like a mill pond with every prospect of
continuing so for some time. And so we lazed along at our twelve
knots, making a couple of final calls before starting on the two-
thousand-mile run to Colombo.

It was the first night out on the last stage that Jim and I were sitting
talking with the skipper on the bridge. Occasionally the sharp,
hissing crackle of the wireless installation broke the silence, and
through the open door of the cabin we could see the operator
working away in his shirt sleeves.
“I guess it’s hard to begin to estimate what we sailors owe to
Marconi for that invention,” said Kelly thoughtfully. “Now that we’ve
got it, it seems almost incredible to think how we got along without
it. And what can I do for you, sir?”
An abrupt change in his tone made me look around to see the
Reverend Samuel Longfellow standing diffidently behind us. He
evidently felt that he was trespassing, for his voice was almost
apologetic.
“Is it possible, captain, to send a message from your wireless?” he
asked.
“Of course it is,” answered Kelly. “You can hand in any message
you like to the operator, and he’ll send it for you.”
“You see, I’ve never sent a message by wireless before,” said the
parson mildly, “and I wasn’t quite sure what to do. Can you get an
answer quickly?”
“Depends on whom you are sending it to and where he is.”
“He’s on a yacht somewhere in this neighborhood,” answered the
clergyman. “He is a missionary, like myself, whose health has broken
down, and a kind philanthropist is taking him for a cruise to help him
recover. I felt it would be so nice if I could speak to him, so to say—
and hear from him, perhaps, how he is getting on.”
 “Quite,” agreed the skipper gravely. “Well, Mr. Longfellow, there is
nothing to prevent your speaking to him as much as you like. You
just hand in your message to the operator whenever you want to,
and he’ll send down the answer to you as soon as he receives it.”
“Oh, thank you, Captain Kelly,” said the parson gratefully. “I
suppose there’s no way of saying where I am,” he continued
hesitatingly. “I mean on shore when one sends a wire the person
who gets it can look up where you are on a map, and it makes it so
much more interesting for him.”

The skipper knocked the ashes out of his pipe.

“I’m afraid, Mr. Longfellow,” he remarked at length, in a stifled
voice, “that you can’t quite do that at sea. Of course, the position of
the ship will be given on the message in terms of latitude and
longitude. So if your friend goes to the navigating officer of this
yacht, he’ll be able to show him with a pin exactly where you were
in the Indian Ocean when the message was sent.”
“I see,” said the clergyman. “How interesting! And then, if I tell
him that we are moving straight toward Colombo at twelve knots an
hour, my dear friend will be able to follow me in spirit all the way on
the map.”
The skipper choked slightly.
“Precisely, Mr. Longfellow. But I wouldn’t call it twelve knots an
hour if I were you. Just say—twelve knots.”
The Reverend Samuel looked a little bewildered.
“Twelve knots. I see. Thank you so much. I’m afraid I don’t know
much about the sea. May I—may I go now to the gentleman who
sends the messages?”
“By all manner of means,” said Kelly, and Jim’s shoulders shook.
“Give the operator your message, and you shall have the answer as
soon as it arrives.”
Again murmuring his thanks, the missionary departed, and shortly
afterward we saw him in earnest converse with the wireless
operator. And that worthy, having read the message and scratched
his head, stared a little dazedly at the Reverend Samuel Longfellow,
obviously feeling some doubts as to his sanity. To be asked to
dispatch to the world at large a message beginning “Dear Brother,”
and finishing “Yours in the church” struck him as being something
which a self-respecting wireless operator should not be asked to do.
“Poor little bird,” said the skipper thoughtfully, as the missionary
went aft to join his companions, “I’m glad for his sake that he
doesn’t know what the bulk of our cargo is this trip. He wouldn’t be
able to sleep at night for fear of being made to walk the plank by
pirates.”
Jim looked up lazily.
“Why, what have you got on board, old man?”
The skipper lowered his voice.
“I haven’t shouted about it, Jim, and as a matter of fact I don’t
think the crew know. Don’t pass it on, but we’ve got over half a
million in gold below, to say nothing of a consignment of pearls
worth certainly another quarter.”

Jim whistled. “By Jove! It would be a nice haul for some one. Bit out
of your line, isn’t it, James—carrying specie?”
“Yes, it is,” agreed the other. “It generally goes on the bigger
boats, but there was some hitch this time. And it’s just as safe with
me as it is with them. That has made it safe.” He pointed to the
wireless operator busily sending out the parson’s message. “That has
made piracy a thing of the past. And incidentally, as you can
imagine, Jim, it’s a big feather in my cap, getting away with this
consignment. It’s going to make the trip worth six ordinary ones to
the firm, and—er—to me. And, with any luck, if things go all right, as
I’m sure they will, I have hopes that in the future it will no longer be
out of our line. We might get a share of that traffic, and I’ll be able
to buy that chicken farm in Dorsetshire earlier than I thought.”
Jim laughed. “You old humbug, James! You’ll never give up the
sea.”
The skipper sighed and stretched himself.
“Maybe not, lad; maybe not. Not till she gives me up, anyway. But
chickens are nice companionable beasts they tell me, and Dorset is
England.”

We continued talking for a few minutes longer, when a sudden and

frenzied explosion of mirth came from the wireless operator. I had
noticed him taking down a message, which he was now reading over
to himself, and after a moment or two of unrestrained joy he came
out on deck.
“What is it, Jenkins?” said the skipper.
“Message for the parson, sir,” answered the operator.
“There is a duplicate on the table.”
He saluted, and went aft to find the Reverend Samuel.
“I think,” murmured the skipper, with a twinkle in his eye, “that I
will now inspect the wireless installation. Would you care to come
with me?”
And this is what we, most reprehensibly, read:

Dear Brother how lovely the gentleman who guides our ship
tells me we pass quite close about midday the day after
tomorrow will lean over railings and wave pocket handkerchief.
Ferdinand.

“My sainted aunt!” spluttered the skipper. “‘Lean over railings and
wave pocket handkerchief!’”
“I think I prefer ‘the gentleman who guides our ship,’ said Jim
gravely. “Anyway, James, I shall borrow your telescope as we come
abreast of Ferdinand. I’d just hate to miss him. Good night, old man.
You’d better have that message framed.”
It was about half an hour later that the door of my cabin opened
and Jim entered abruptly. I was lying in my bunk smoking a final
cigarette, and I looked at him in mild surprise. He was fully dressed,
though I had seen him start to take off his clothes twenty minutes
before, and he was looking grave.
“You pay attention, Dick,” he said quietly, sitting down on the
other bunk. “I had just taken off my coat when I remembered I’d
left my cigar case in a niche up on deck. I went up to get it, and just
as I was putting it in my pocket I heard my own name mentioned.
Somewhat naturally I stopped to listen. And I distinctly heard this
sentence—‘Don’t forget—you are absolutely responsible for Maitland.’
I listened for about five minutes, but I couldn’t catch anything else
except a few disconnected words here and there, such as ‘wireless’
and ‘midday.’ Then there was a general pushing back of deck chairs,
and those seven black-coated blighters trooped off to bed. They
didn’t see me; they were on the other side of the funnel—but it
made me think. You remember that remark you heard as we came
on board? Well, why the deuce is this bunch of parsons so infernally
interested in me? I don’t like it, Dick.” He looked at me hard through
his eyeglass. “Do you think they are parsons?”

I sat up in bed with a jerk.

“What do you mean—do I think they’re parsons? Of course they’re
parsons. Why shouldn’t they be parsons?” But I suddenly felt very
wide awake.
Jim thoughtfully lit a cigar.
“Quite so—why shouldn’t they be? At the same time”—he paused
and blew out a cloud of smoke—“Dick, I suppose I’m a suspicious
bird, but this interest—this peculiar interest—in me is strange, to say
the least of it. Of course it may be that they regard me as a
particularly black soul to be plucked from the burning, in which case
I ought to feel duly flattered. On the other hand, let us suppose for
a second that they are not parsons. Well, I don’t think I am being
unduly conceited if I say that I have a fairly well-known reputation
as a tough customer, if trouble occurs.”
By this time all thoughts of sleep had left me.
“What do you mean, Jim?” I demanded.
He answered my question by another.
“Don’t you think, Dick, that that radiograph was just a little too
foolish to be quite genuine?”
“Well, it was genuine right enough. Jenkins took it down in front
of our eyes.”
 “Oh, it was sent; I’m not denying that. And it was sent as he
received it, and as we read it. But was it sent by a genuine parson,
cruising in a genuine yacht for his health? If so, my opinion of the
brains of the church drops below par. But if”—he drew deeply at his
cigar—“if, Dick, it was not sent by a genuine parson, but by
someone who wished to pose as the driveling idiot curate of fiction,
why, my opinion of the brains of the church remains at par.”
“Look here,” I said, lighting a cigarette, “I may be stupid, but I
can’t get you. Granting your latter supposition, why should any one
not only want to pose as a parson when he isn’t one, but also take
the trouble to send fool messages around the universe?”

“Has it occurred to you,” said Jim quietly, “that two very useful
pieces of information have been included in those two fool
messages? First, our exact position at a given time, and our course
and our speed. Secondly, the approximate time when the
convalescing curate, in the yacht belonging to the kind friend, will
impinge on that course. And the third fact—not contained in either
message, but which may possibly have a bearing on things, is that
on board this yacht there is half a million in gold, and quarter of a
million in pearls.
“Good heavens!” I muttered, staring at him foolishly.
“Mark you, Dick, I may have stumbled into a real first-class mare’s
nest. The Reverend Samuel and his pals may be all that they say
and more, but I don’t like this tender solicitude for my salvation.”
“Are you going to say anything to the skipper?” I asked.
“Yes,” he answered. “I think I shall tell James. But he’s a pig-
headed fellow, and he’ll probably be darned rude about it. I should,
if I were he. They aren’t worrying over his salvation.”
And with that he went to bed, leaving me thinking fairly acutely.
Could there be anything in it? Could it be possible that any one
would attempt piracy in the twentieth century, especially when the
ship, as the skipper had pointed out, was equipped with wireless?
The idea was ridiculous, and the next morning I went around to
Jim’s cabin to tell him so. It was empty, and there was a note lying
on the bed addressed to me. It was brief and to the point:

I am ill in bed with a sharp dose of fever. Pass the good news
on to our friend--the parson.
Jim

I did so, at breakfast, and I thought I detected a shade of relief

pass over the face of the Reverend Samuel though he inquired most
solicitously about the sufferer and even went so far as to wish to
give him some patent remedy of his own. But I assured him that
quinine and quiet were all that were required, and with that the
matter dropped.
And then there began for me a time of irritating suspense. Not a
sign of Jim did I see for the whole of that day and the following
night. His cabin door had been locked since I went in before
breakfast, and I didn’t even know whether he was inside or not. All I
did know was that something was doing, and there are few things
more annoying than being out of a game that you know is being
played. Afterward I realized that it was unavoidable; but at the time
I cursed inwardly and often.

And the strange thing is that when the thing did occur it came with
almost as much of a shock to me as if I had had no previous
suspicions. It was the suddenness of it, I think—the suddenness and
the absolute absence of any fuss or shouting. Naturally I didn’t see
the thing in its entirety; my outlook was limited to what happened to
me and in my own vicinity.
I suppose it was about half-past eleven, and I was strolling up and
down the deck. Midday had been the time mentioned, and I was
feeling excited and restless. Mrs. Armstrong and her daughter were
seated in their usual place, and I stopped and spoke a few words to
them. Usually Mrs. Armstrong was the talker of the two—a big,
gaunt woman with yellow spectacles, but pleasant and homely. This
morning, however, the daughter answered—and her mother, who
had put on a veil in addition to the spectacles, sat silently beside her.
 “Poor mother has such a headache from the glare that she has
had to put on a veil,” she said. “I hope Mr. Maitland is better.”
I murmured that he was about the same, just as two of the
parsons strolled past and I wondered why the girl gave a little laugh.
Then suddenly she sat up, with a cry of admiration.
“Oh, look at that lovely yacht!”
I swung around quickly, and there, sure enough, about a hundred
yards from us and just coming into sight around the awning, was a
small steam yacht, presumably the one from which Ferdinand was to
wave. And at that moment the shorter of the two parsons put a
revolver within an inch of my face, while the other one ran his hands
over my pockets. It was so unexpected that I gaped at him foolishly,
and even when I saw my Colt flung overboard I hardly realized that
the big holdup had begun.

Then there came a heavy thud from just above us, and I saw
Jenkins, the wireless man, pitch forward on his face half in and half
out of his cabin door. He lay there sprawling, while another of the
parsons proceeded to wreck his instruments with the iron bar which
he had used to stun the operator. Just then, with a squawk of terror
like an anguished hen, Mrs. Armstrong rose to her feet, and with her
pink parasol in one hand and her rug in the other fled toward the
bow of the ship. She looked so irresistibly funny—this large,
hysterical woman—that I couldn’t help it, I laughed. And even the
two determined-looking parsons smiled, though not for long.
 Just then, with a squawk of terror like an anguished hen, Mrs. Armstrong rose
to her feet and with her pink parasol in one hand fled toward the bow

“Go below,” said one of them to Miss Armstrong. “Remain in your

cabin. And you”—he turned to me—“go aft where the others are.”
“You infernal scoundrel!” I shouted. “What are you playing at?”
“Don’t argue, or I’ll blow out your brains,” he said quietly. “And get
a move on.”
I found the two Americans and the colored gentleman standing in
a bunch with a few of the deck hands, and every one seemed
equally dazed. One of the so-called parsons stood near with a
revolver in each hand, but it was really an unnecessary precaution;
we were none of us in a position to do anything. And suddenly one
of the Americans gripped my arm.
“Gee! Look at the two guns on that yacht.”

Sure enough, mounted fore and aft, and trained directly on us were
two guns that looked to me to be of about three-inch calibre, and
behind each of them stood two men.
“What’s the game anyway?” he went on excitedly, as two boats
shot away from the yacht. For the first time I noticed that the
engines had stopped and that we were lying motionless on the calm,
oily sea. But my principal thoughts were centered on Jim. Where
was he? What was he doing? Had these blackguards done away with
him, or was he lying up somewhere—hidden away? And even if he
was, what could he do? Those two guns had an unpleasant
appearance.
A bunch of armed men came pouring over the side of the ship,
and then disappeared below, only to come up again in a few minutes
carrying a number of wooden boxes, which they lowered into the
boats alongside. They worked with the efficiency of well-trained
sailors, and I found myself cursing aloud. For I knew what was
inside those boxes, and was so utterly helpless to do anything. And
yet I couldn’t help feeling a sort of unwilling admiration; the thing
was so perfectly organized. It might have been a well-rehearsed
drill, instead of a unique and gigantic piece of piracy.
I stepped back a few paces and looked up at the bridge. The
skipper and his three officers were there—covered by another of the
parsons. And the fifth member of the party was the Reverend
Samuel Longfellow. He was smiling gently to himself, and as the last
of the boxes was lowered over the side, he came to the edge of the
bridge and addressed us.
“We are now going to leave you,” he remarked suavely. “You are
all unarmed, and I wish to give you a word of advice. Should either
of the gunners on my yacht see any one move, however innocent
the reason, before we are on board, he or both of them will open
fire. So do not be tempted to have a shot at me, Captain Kelly,
because it will be the last shot you ever have. You will now join your
crew, if you please.”

In silence the skipper and his officers came down from the bridge,
and the speaker followed them. For a moment or two he stood
facing us with an ironical smile on his face.
“Your brother in the church thanks you for your little gift to his
offertory box,” he remarked. Then he turned to one of the other
parsons beside him. “Is it set?” he asked briefly.
 “Yea,” said the other. “We’d better hurry. What about that woman
up there?”
“Confound the woman!” answered the Reverend Samuel. “A
pleasant journey, Captain Kelly.”
He stepped down the gangway into the second boat, and was
pulled away toward the yacht. And, feeling almost sick with rage, I
glanced at the skipper beside me. Poor devil! What he must be
feeling, I hardly dared to think. To be held up on the High Seas and
robbed of specie and pearls the first time he was carrying them was
cruel luck. And I was prepared to see anything on his face, save
what I did see. For he was staring at the bow of the ship, with a
fierce blaring excitement in his eyes, and instinctively I looked too,
though every one else was staring at the yacht.
 Curiousity had overcome Mrs. Armstrong’s fright. She was kneeling in the bow
staring at the yacht, her pink parasol clutched in her hands, and tragic though
the situation was, I could not help smiling, involuntarily

And then for the first time I remembered Mrs. Armstrong. She was
cowering down with her hands over her ears—the picture of abject
terror. But now curiosity overcame her fright, and she knelt there,
staring at the yacht. Her pink parasol was clutched in her hands; and
tragic though the situation was, I could not help smiling involuntarily.
Anyway, she would have something to talk about when she got
home.
 A mocking shout from the yacht made me look away again. The
scoundrel who called himself the Reverend Samuel Longfellow was
standing beside the boxes of gold and pearls which had been
stacked on the deck. He was waving his hand and bowing ironically,
with the six other blackguards beside him, when the last amazing
development took place.

Before our eyes there burst a great sheet of flame. I had a momentary glimpse
of the craft splitting in two

Literally before our eyes they vanished in a great sheet of flame. I

had a momentary glimpse of the yacht apparently splitting in two,
and then the roar of a gigantic explosion nearly deafened me.
“Get under cover!” yelled the skipper, and there was a general
stampede, as bits of metal and wood began falling into the sea all
around us. Then there came another smaller explosion as the sea
rushed into the yacht’s engine room, a great column of water shot
up, and when it subsided the yacht had disappeared.
“What in heaven’s name happened?” said one of the Americans
dazedly. “What made her blow up like that?”
I said nothing; I felt too dazed myself. And unconsciously I looked
toward the bow: Mrs. Armstrong had disappeared.
The skipper sent away a boat, but it was useless.
There was a mass of floating wreckage, but no trace of any
survivor, and after a while the search was given up. Just one of
those unexplained mysteries which in this case could only be
accounted for as Divine retribution.
So, at any rate, Mrs. Armstrong said to me when I met her on
deck half an hour afterward.
“Dreadful! Terrible!” she cried. “How more than thankful I am that
I didn’t see it.”
“You didn’t see it?” I said, staring at her. “But surely——”
And then I heard Jim’s voice behind me.
“Mrs. Armstrong, I have a dreadful confession to make. Mrs.
Armstrong, Dick, was good enough to lend me some clothes this
morning, so that we could have a rag when crossing the line—and
I’ve gone and dropped her parasol overboard.”
I admit it; I wasn’t bright.
“We’re nowhere near the line,” I remarked, but fortunately the
good lady paid no attention.
“What does it matter, Mr. Maitland?” she cried. “To think of
anything of that sort in face of this awful tragedy! Though I must
confess I think it served the villains right.”
She walked away like an agitated hen, and Jim smiled grimly.
“Poor old soul,” he said, “let’s hope she never finds out what I
really wanted her clothes for.”
“So it was you up in the bow,” I remarked.
He nodded. “Didn’t you guess? Dick, I feel I’ve treated you rather
scurvily. Let’s go and have a drink and I’ll put you wise. I saw Kelly
that night,” he began, when we were comfortably settled, “and at
first he laughed as I thought he would. Then after a while he didn’t
laugh quite so much, and later still he stopped laughing altogether.
Finally I made a suggestion. If these men were what they said they
were, the two big chests below, which common report had it were
filled with Bibles, would prove their case. I suggested, therefore,
that we examine these two chests. They would never know, and it
would settle the matter. He took a bit of persuading, but finally we
went below to where the passengers’ luggage is stored. There were
the two cases, and there and then we opened one. It was packed—
not with Bibles—but with nitroglycerin.”
Jim paused and took a drink, then lit a cigarette thoughtfully.
“I don’t think that I have ever seen a man in quite such a dreadful
rage as Kelly was,” he went on gravely. “There was a clockwork
mechanism which could be started by turning a screw on the outside
of each box, and the whole diabolical plan was as clear as daylight.
There was enough stuff there to sink a fleet of battleships, and
when they had cleared off in the yacht with the gold we should
suddenly have split in two and gone down with every soul on board.
There would have been no one left to tell the tale, and these cold-
blooded murderers would have got clean away. That was the little
plot.”
He smiled grimly.
“I had no small difficulty in preventing James from putting the
whole bunch in irons on the spot, but finally I got him to agree to a
plan of mine. We changed the cargo around—he and I. Their chests
containing nitroglycerin we filled with gold; and the specie boxes we
filled with nitroglycerin and some lead and iron as a make-weight.
And then we let the plan proceed. We banked on a holdup and the
wrecking of the wireless. We thought they’d send over a boatload of
armed men, and transfer the stuff to the yacht—and in fact they did.
Further, we banked on the fact that they wouldn’t fool around with a
fat, hysterical old woman, or a man in the throes of fever. Good girl
—that Miss Armstrong; she kept her mother below all the morning in
great style. And that, I think, is all,” he ended, with a quizzical
glance at me.
“But it isn’t!” I cried. “What made that stuff blow up, if it had been
taken out of the boxes with the clockwork mechanism?”
“Well, old Dick,” said Jim, “it may be that the Reverend Samuel
kicked one of the boxes a trifle hard in his jubilation. Or perhaps he
dropped his Corona inadvertently. Or maybe something hit one of
those boxes very hard like a bullet from a gun. Come down to my
cabin,” he added, suddenly.
I followed him and he shut the door. On the bed was lying Mrs.
Armstrong’s pink parasol. The muzzle of an Express rifle stuck out
through a hole that had been split in the silk near the ferrule; the
stock was hidden by the material. Jim took it out and cleaned it
carefully. Then he looked at the parasol and smiled.
“Beyond repair, old man. And since I told the old dear I had
dropped her gamp overboard—well—”
He rolled it up slowly and threw it far out through the porthole,
then stood for a moment watching it drift.

Transcriber’s Note: This story appeared in the October 1923

issue of McClure’s Magazine.
 *** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE SEVEN
MISSIONARIES ***

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