The Worthington advance. [volume] (Worthington, Minn.) 1874-1908, 1879-02-06
BENEATH THE SEA.
BYP, HENRY DOYLE.


sails set, came the packet Normandy,
bound for the coast of France. A fairer
day had never with it's sunshine kissed
land or sea.
Slowly the trim vessel rode in its
course, long line of light stretching
from its bow to the setting sun, NAL ing
it appear like some golden road that
reached from earth to heaven.
A singular silence had come over the
bark and its living freight. The last
cheers of the people On the pier had died
away in the distance, and those on the
deck, having ceased to respond. stood
leaning on the bulwarks gazing thought
fully shorewards.
Only as the breath of the fitful breeze
suffered some sail to flap against the mast
was the strange silence broken.
No engine pulsated down beneath the
well-scrubbed deck, for not vet had the
mind of man achieved that Gro wing
glory OF invention. Time and space still
held their own on the waste Of. waters,
and the genius that was to make mock
cry Of them had not yet been born.
So the passengers knew that even with
the most favorable winds the sun must
sink and rise again ore they can bid adieu
to the vessels wooden walls, and tread
the soil of France.
A momentary gliding of the wide
Channels breast with glorious radiance
and twilight the vanguard of coming
gloom-prepares to take the mastery.
John Hervey, pilot aud captain
bronzed ana stern faced-leaves the helm
to an under-officer, and mingles with his
passengers.
A few courteous words here or there,
and he addressed himself to LADY sit
ting alone near the main cabin. She
raised her eyes at the sound OF his foot
steps, and revealed sweet girlish face as
| beautiful as dream of morning.
"lt's good omen, Hester" was
his greeting, as he sat beside her,
"that the first step in our new existence
should be so bright, SO promising, and
let US pray to God it may never CHANGE
She only answered "Amcn," hardly
audibly, but with a tone whose depths
and sweetness told the hope came from
her Utmost soul.
| AS they walked about that evening en-
joying the balmy air and the lovely pros
poets, many who knew the truth saw the
couple and silently invoked the blessing
OF Heaven on heron him.
For to-day had seen the realization OF
the captains dearest aspirations. The
ship he stood upon was his own-paid for
with the proceeds Of years of toil-and
the maiden was his wife. the bride of on
~ a day, but his love in manhood and
in youth.
Darkness came, and only those whose
presence duty required remained above
The captain gave the necessary orders for
the night, and then, after an instructive
look at the sky, went below himself.
Ten o'clock or more, and the breeze in
creasing. Occasional clouds obscure the
stars, and the waves, as they dash against
the PROV or strike the sides, have u hol-
low, echoing sound that seems like the
moaning of articulatc speech.
Midnight, and the heavens are COM
pletely ensclopcd in cloak of gloon.
.Ay, worse even, for one Of those sudden
thick togs that come at times with speed
of the whirlwind in the Channel, hangs
around the vessel as though it were a
coffin and its pail.
"Lieutenant!-M Mr.. Locarby!'
The officer, who was near the main
mast, peering anxiously out into the
Locarby is evidently about to make a
sarcastic reply, when sudden lurch of
the packet throws him against the taft
rail. The straining and stretching of the
sails and cordagc overhead also warn him
that the wind is blowing frcshcr every
minute. Tt will likely become gale
| With cry to the sailors to reef the
sails, he takes the tillcr himself, and bids
the other arouse the captain.
| The deft fingers of the ta,s soon relieve
the masts OF extra pressure,and the pack
ct eases. But Il moment later it needs
not the fierce, wild cry of Captain Her.
vcy to tell him Of his danger:
"For Gods sake, port!"
And up he rushes aud scizes the helm
from his suboldinatc's hands, his eyes
almost starting from their sockets as he
drags on the wheel.
The tiller-ropes have become wedgcd
IN the groove, and will not move. The
Normandy is manageable!
Like Il mountain from the now ashing
frothing waters rises Il huge blac giant,
Of gloom. 1t is not cloud, for the
quick trained sense of the skilled sailor
sees only too clearly the fearful truth.
The ship is helplessly drifting towards
the Needles, the most dangerous and fatal
rocks in the English Channel. 1t is but
the work of a moment for the captain to
seize an axe and with one blow sever the
ropes. The packet suddenly swings
round with a fearful crash, but it is too
late. With dull, rumbling groan the
ship strikes, and the curse that falls from
the lips of Captain Hervey is hardly lost
in the terrified shrek of agony that
comes from below.
In An instant all is confusion
| After the collision the Normandy slips
from the ledge, and the water is rushing
through the opening into the hull.
Half clad in night garments, shrieking,
Disappearing, praying and wondering,
come the half demcnted passengers on
deck.
There are no immediate stages OF
thought IN an accident at sea. IT'S but
one step from the Eden of the dreamer
to almost certain death. Over all is
heard the voice of Captain Hervey.
"Cut away the ooats!'
The sailors, prompt at the word, are
lowering them from the davits, when the
ships carpenter appears. A bold and
faithful man, he had, as his duty de.
manded, at the risk of his life examined
the leak.
''She will sink in five minutesW
| A howl like that of Infatuated beasts,
and the passengers pcll nell rush for the
gangway. With one stride the captain
confrOnts them.
1.-THE women and children frst!" be
simply says, and snatching the pistol
Locarby, who is beside him, holds in his
belt, he draws back the lock.
Ere soul has stepped from the vessel
to the boats that are now launched, a
small, wiry, bald headed man. shaking
with terror, advances from the throng
crowded round the ladder and cries:
"1t's your work, Captain Hervey. You
over-insured the Normandy to DESTROY