The Blue Book Magazine, April 1922 — page 14: what you’re looking at

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

To the Lights sake of all they below, help thy unworthy servant, who is so old, so broken, so tired, to take the /’l1 Try home. But if it be Thy will that we are to see no harbor lights again but those by Thy everlasting gates, pray let use see them shine clear to bring us to Thy port.” He rolled aft to the wheel hae swayed helplessly to and fro, and using alternately his hand and knee against the spokes, brought the staggering ship up to her work. She seemed grateful for the attention, and eager to respond. Her mere rags of red sails filled, and she was ready to fight the storm. “Good old girl! Good old girl!” Cap- tain Josh muttered approvingly. ‘“That’s it! Take hold of the wind. Hang on to it!” For an hour she half fought, half fled with that nearly motionless figure steering her, and yet the storm showed no signs of abatement. The dusk came early, filled with flying clouds, with wind-torn spray and the unceasing charge of great waves. Captain Josh shifted anxious eyes skyward, seeking some hope of a break. In all his sixty years at sea he had never been more troubled and perplexed. “Tf only there’d come a lull at sunset,” he muttered aloud after the long stillness, and was slightly startled by the sound of his own voice. He considered for a mo- ment whether it was better to think aloud, for the companionship of that sound, or to keep his lips shut. For the time being he chose the former method and went on: “I can’t make or douse sail with one hand, and I be so damned tired now that it hurts. It’s mighty risky to let her fall off; but—us must have lights! I’ve just got to take the chance and let her come round. There’s nothing else to be done.” HE crouched against the wheel, waiting to seize one of the momentary lulls when the. gale paused to catch breath for another blast. ‘“‘Now!”’ he cried at last, as if addressing his full crew. ‘Around she goes!” and with hand and knee, he deftly worked the wheel until the canvas flapped and flut- tered, and then under way of impetus and storm the J/’ll Try hesitated, paid off, leaned over so far that her lee rail was awash, was in danger of coming to beam ends if the storm sent a quick gust of wind, struggled, recovered, threw water from her deck, and fell away. She was not an instant too soon in setting her keel. for THE BLUE the blast of wind came, as if angered by the skill of ship and man that had robbed it of its prey. It snapped the wet canvas. It shrilled through rigging. It screamed across the spume. Again she drifted as helplessly as a wreck, buffeted by wind and wave, lurching drunkenly, moving aim- lessly, shuddering spasmodically, and with her wheel free. Across her decks, slipping, sliding in his big and clumsy sea-boots, struggled her skipper, wondering meanwhile if she could possibly ride and survive, and hoping only to reach the lanterns that had fortunately, if carelessly, been stowed in a stationary fish-box. He reached them at last and was vastly concerned by the fear that they might have been so drenched that they would not light. He sat flat upon the wet and streaming deck in the tiny lee of the companionway, caught a lantern in his knees and after many attempts succeeded in lighting it. To hoist it with one hand was another trying task. He accomplished it, after a time, by first using his few and worn teeth, and when they failed, by clutching the rope between his knees. He spat a broken tooth out between his bleed- ing lips, and belayed the line to the main- mast. “Bad and not proper it be, but—mayhap it'll keep some of they big smoke boats from ridin’ us down,” he remarked, hope- fully, as he saw the swaying, tossing gleam aloft. “Now for the starn lights!” But despite his patient efforts, he could light none. He swore with inconsequent oaths when one slid from the grasp of his knees and rolled swiftly outward, bounding and bumping across the deck, found an opening and plunged overboard. He used more expletives when he discovered that another had a broken globe, and was_ useless. Night was advancing, black and chill, and he sat for a moment more, flat on the deck, and questioning whether he dared risk the great venture of going below to see how the stricken remnant of his crew fared. The wind defiantly answered him. The ship was straining too hard under the stress of storm. “Nope. I can’t do anything to help ’em, or myself,” he growled. “I must get back to the wheel and bring her back to course again, before it’s too black. If I could have but a cup of tay and a bit of biscuit! Damn it, why didn’t I think to put some of they biscuit in my pocket before I came back on deck!” MICLOO® CO