The Argosy, Christmas 1912 — page 99: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

AT FIVE say as the cutter made toward the open | sea. “I hope he runs her high and dry and breaks her back.” “Look! Look!” cried Wilson sud- denly, pointing to the spot where they had seen the schooner last. All hands followed the direction of his arm. For an instant the dizzy whirl of the Rosan’s lights was visible; but the next they were suddenly extin- guished, and only the whistling wind blew over the place where she had been. “Half speed!” cried Ramsay. “We'll have ta stand by till morning and pick up that man if he got away in a dory.” All night the Penguin cruised back and forth with double lookouts sta- tioned on the fo’c’s’‘le head and the crow’s-nest. Her life-boats were swung out on the davits, and the watch aban- doned other work and stood ready to leap into them at the first cry from the darkness outside. It was not until six o’clock brought the first gray glimmer of day that any- thing was seen. Then one of the look- outs made out an indistinguishable mass drifting slowly toward the Pen- guin from the northeast. Signaling for full speed, the captain ran down to investigate. The moving object or objects proved to be eight dories, closely bunched, drifting stern foremost with the wind. Over each bow the painter ran to a drag that had been made of the an- chor, oars, and thwarts, and on the bot- tom of each dory two men lay flat on their backs, bailing out water as fast as it poured in over the low gunwales. The lift-boat of the Penguin went over smartly, and in half an hour the drenched and exhausted crew of the Rosan were in the cabin, drinking quarts of hot coffee, while the dories were hoisted and nested amidships. When the men had recovered some- what and were stowed away in bunks. Captain Ramsay came below and asked for the skipper. Bijonah Tanner lifted his shaggy head and demanded what was wanted. FATHOMS. 85 “You are the captain and crew of the Rosan, aren’t you? I saw the name on your dories.”’ 6c Yes.”’ “Well, ?’'m afraid your schooner is lost,’ said Ramsay in a kinder tone than he had used for many aday. “I made out her name late yesterday aft- ernoon when we were chasing her. She had only one man aboard, didn’t she? ”’ “Yes. God bless him! My brother! ” growled. Tanner furiously. “That’s the one!” continued Ram- say with conviction. ‘ The lunatic piled her up on the Breakwater Shoals at midnight or thereabouts. She must have pounded to pieces, for there was not a stick of her left this morning.” Captain Bijonah gave a great groan and lay back speechless in his bunk. Not a word did the men of the crew say, for Gloucester men through gen- erations have become accustomed to loss and tragedy at sea. “How’d you come to get in such a fix?’ inquired Ramsay. “T’d given Del the dressin’ down of his life in the mornin’,” replied Bijo- nah brokenly, “and he got ugly an’ ran off with the boat to give us a scare, I guess. Then he prob’ly f’und he couldn’t handle her an’ drove her onto the rocks. Now, I ain’t got neither boat nor brother, an’ both on ’em was all I had of their kind.” “It’s too bad, old man,” said Ram- say, really sympathetic; “it’s too bad.” And he departed hastily up the com- panionway, never mentioning fish or the three-mile limit, as he had firmly intended doing when he went below. ITI. A pDAY later the revenue cutter de+ posited the shipwrecked crew at Lu- nenburg, from which remote point Bi- jonah Tanner attempted to get into communication with his owners in Gloucester. To his disgust, however, the old man found that the telegraph- office was out of commission, but would be ready for use the next day. oO CoOMmicbook CO