The Somerset herald. [volume] (Somerset, Pa.) 1870-1936, 1884-04-30

when his pay 'Jlngled In his pOck-
cts. He was not niggardly-nay,
once he had emptied his remaining
dollars into beggar's hand. Sandy
was bravest of the brave; but he had
never been generous enough nor
brave enough to go back to his east
ward seaport, where his mother had
left the candle burning for him in
the window-never. never.
Five years were gone and ten, and
fifteen and twenty. A man nearly
forty years of age stood in Sandy
Cameron's shoes-a man who led
the widest life under the moon
ashore a man to whom fiery bran
dy was as ater to child man
who remembered God only in his
oaths ;;..when the Agamemnon came
after long and stormy voyage just
within sight of the coast-within
sight of its lighthouse, at least, for
in the darkness of a stormy night
nothing else was visible. Battered
with storms already, bruised by the
waves, wounded by rocks. still the
Agamemnon fought her way home
ward by the morrow eve sound
earth would be beneath the feet of
/ the wave. weary mariners-for once,
at least, all longsd for it, even wild
Sandy Cameron. He was glad. He
watched the towering lamps with
Joy and swore that they were pleas
ant sights. Before he slept he stood
long time leaning over the taft
rail, smoking, and thinking, if he
ever thought. 1t was an evil linger-
ing for the Agamemnon. A spark
from the cigar held in an unsteady
hand, regarded by eyes not brighter
from recent draughts of brandy,
made its way somehow, wind-horne
or demon-borRs, into the place
where the cargo of the vessel had
been stored awaw, and at the dead
of night they of the midwatch saw
stealing through the planks beneath
theR red and yellow tongues Of
flames. The vessel was on fire.
FIRE. fire! fire. the word rang
It's way to heaven, shouted by every
tongue on board.
The scenes that followed beggars
description. None who lived to re-
member ever could forget it. There
was no hope from the first none
save in the boats. They were filled
at once. Who could forget it Oh,
who could forget it The old man
pointing to the lights on shore and
crying:
q / wanted to see the children once
before | died"
The captain, deathly pale, showing
that strange bravery which sailors
only possess at such time.
Changing from a dictatorial old
hard drinker to very hero cling
ing in romantic fondness to his ship;
and while he did his best for every
other soul on board, forgetting him
self, and vowing to sink with her.
The young passenger and his
bride-she clung to him the poor
mother with her babe bound to her
breast-praying on her knees amid
the tumult The orphan child 60
ing home to its grandparents, Won
der-stricken, and yet scarcely con-
scious of its danger. The sailors
changed like the captain, into heroes.
Who could forget all this? Amid
them all, gigantic in his strength,
sobered at last by the awful scene
around him, toiled Sandy Cameron.
They remembered him well, whose
lives he saved. The bronzed man
with light hair, and the grip of Her
cules. To the boats and RATS
some to live, some to die-were all
afoat All going into the darkness,
and struggling forms had vanished
from the waves, and alone together,
the flames approaching them like
dancing demons, stood old Captain
Oaks and his first mate, Sandy
Cameron.
captain, said Sandy, " it's most
over"
AYE, aye, lad, said the captain.
" Give me your fist. We've sailed
together a good while, now. We
seem bound for the long voyage
now. Lord help us, Sandy"
There's a chance yet, maybe"
said the first mate TRY for it,
captain"
No." said the sailor, Il go down
with her"
That was the last that Sandy
Cameron saw or heard of the cap
tain. A rush and a roar from below,
where spirits were stored, ended the
words. Then came blinune-s and
and time paused for
him.
At last there was sound again.
The sound of waters. Sight, the
red lamns ef the lighthouse. Feel /