The Republican journal. [volume] (Belfast, Me.) 1829-current, 1881-07-07
Boston Bay before he sights the High


| the thicker the weather became-nOt eX
actly a fog, but driving Scotch mist and
rain that elfectually shut everything out
of sight ships length ahead, requiring
a constant, careful lookout, with frequent
blowing of the fog horn. But they kept
driving the bark on her course, although
she rolled heavily in the immense seas
heaving under the quarter; and the rat
Ting and crashing of tin pans and crock
cry below, and the faint CLEAN Of light
ming in the southwest, indicated the
growing severity OF the storm. But Capt.
Baker Judging from the barometer and
certain signs significant to the eXperienc-
ed eye. inferred that there would be Il
shift of wind ahead before morning, and
was anxious to make all the longitude
possible before the change.
1t had just struck eight bells. There
is something peculiarly solemn in the toll
OF a ships bell on a dark. stormy night,
when the wind is chanting shrill, weird
wall IN the rigging, and the melancholy
sWash of the waves seems to shut out the
lonely vessel and the isolated beings on
her deck from all the rest Of creation.
"Nlr. Partridge" said the Captain to
the mate, whose watch it was on deck
''AIr. Partridge, you'll keep good look
out, and, if there's any sign of q change
Of weather. give me call. If the wind
hasn't shifted when they change the
watch. We'll heave too, as we don't want
to run in too close while it continues thick
like this"
Captain Baker then turned to 90 be-
low, and had just reached the companion
way. when the lookout on the torecastle
sang out:
"Nessel dead ahead. close aboard of
US :"
"Port hard-a-port. y rang out the
thunder tones of Captain Bakers voice,
and like an echo of his own voice came
back the cry from the unknown ship,
''Port ~ and the bark, suddenly arrested
in her course. swung to WindWard, reel
ing over on her side, and her foretopmast
swapping off even with the cap as she
broached too. But it was too late. At
the same instant she rose Oh I; sea and
rushed down with a tremendous crash
into the vessel ahead and as she swung
back, stunned by the shock, and then
surged on again, a schooner loomed up
out OF the gloom, ranged alongside, and
went down with a last smOthered cry of
agony rising from her deck, blending with
the bowling of the gale. IIencoops, spars,
and lite-preSeryers were thrown over from
the bark, if haplv some poor soul might
lay hold Of one: but, obviously, the first
| duty was to see whether the Jennie Lane
had suffered such damage as would place
her own existence in danger The pumps
We're sounded, and a slight increase Of
water was found, indicating that she had
started some of her forward timbers: but,
most fortunately, the water did not rush
in SO fast as to be an object OF immediate
concern, proving under control Of the
pumps. But some of her upper works
! had been carried away, including her jib-
| boom and tOretopmast and top gallant
mast, 50 that she seemed to be in quite
torlorn condition. While the invcstiga-
tion as to the damage done was going on
forward, Il Voice was heard in the fore
chain. and it was found that one of the
schooner's crew was clinging there, who
had managed to get hold, but, sprain-
ing his ankle, was unable h. climb farther.
He was at once rescued and brought aft
in Il halt-drOWned condition.
"What schooner was that ," inquired
Captain Baker,
"Shc was the Gentle Annie, Of
"What the Gentle Annie, John Baker
skipper" exclaimed the Captain, shaking
like a leaf.
"AIy God O my God = groaned the
poor Captain, leaning against the rail tof
support in the extremity Of his emotion,
80 my boy my poor boy"
But when the first paroXysn OF sudden
grief and despair was over, Captain Ba
llcr, like all men OF action Of his stamp,
ierved himself to his duty, and. control
ling the outward expressions of feelings,
went about the ship to see that all was
made snug and secure. TO put boat
over in that sea and mist, in search Of the
schooner's crew, was hopeless task, and
would only needlessly risk other lives.
He therefore gave orders to keep the
bark us near as possible to the position
of the catastrophy until day break and,
having assured himself that his vessel
was in no present danger from the COLI
sion, he went below to pass the Saddest
night of his life.
\ long and earnest search on the fol-
lowing morning brought no relief to the
hopeless father. The wind had shifted
and 'scot1ed" the fog away, but nothing
was to be seen except here and there Il
distant sail. About midday pilot was
taken on board, and in twenty four hours,
with the aid Of tug, the Jennie Lane
was alongside of Long Wharf
The news Of the collision, being Of the
nature Of bad tidngs, and involving the
fate of three men at Captain Bakers
home-the rest Of the lost men were from
other places it reached the place without
delay one evening after candlelight. AS
II,
knot of loaters collected inside of the
store, with such more reputable and in
dustrlous villagers as expected letters
The postlnaster's paper was seized by one
Of those most greedy for news, and if any
item of interest occurred he read it aloud.
The audience being largely composed of
scataring people, the column Of ship-neWs
was naturally the first to receive atten-
ton. On this occasion Jerry Fuller, a
lank-limbed specimen of the Cape Cod
race, had the newspaper, and, with his
slouched hat on the back of his head and
his feet on the rung of the old chair which
was tilted against a barrel Of potatoes,
was leisurely going over the items, when,
with start, he violently exclaimed:
"My good gracious, if that don't beat
all :"
"Why, what is it now Jerry?'
"Just look a-here-.ust listen to this,
boys, The Gentle Annie's been run down
and sunk in a gale OF wind 10y the bark
Jennie Lane"
Every one in the store Immediately
crowded around Jerry while he read aloud
the account Of the calamity, which, al
though briefly and simply told, came
home to them with terrible emphasis,
"There was the Widow Fishers boy
and Tommy Sloane and Johnnie Baker
all from this place, all as likely fellows as
ever grasped a marlinspike, and they've
all gone to Davy JONES'" said Bill
Tucker, heaving a sigh and moistenng
the tireless stove with tobacco-juice.
'Tm thinkin' it's mighty hard lines fol
the Old man. said Joey Greene.