The Arkansaw traveler., 1888-05-26
DEAD OUT TO SEA.
BY NJ. QUAD.

Some day, when you are down Dy the sea, take long, steady look at one of the Jersey coast captains. He is captain, in this case, because he is owner, commander and crew of cat boat-a craft used by fishing and ex- cursion parties. You will find a crowd of these men and boats at Beach Ha- ven, Atlantic City and in two or three other points, and in the past five years not single life has been lost from one of this fleet of boats.
 There are yonng men as well as old, but you will find them all bronzed and weather beaten, grim, silent and taciturn. Some faces can be read. These cannot. You will notice, if you look keenly, that there is a shade of anxiety over all It is there by rights. These men study the sky-the clouds, the set of the wind, the rising up and the going down of the sun. Their daily life is combat with treacherous currents, unsuitable tides-the fierce demon who turks at the bottom of the sea and reaches up to pull down his victims.
 In summer they are captains and masters. In winter they are banded into life-saving crews. It is peril always peril. You hear rhythm in the lap! lap! lapl of the waves against the sandy beach. They hear a menace. To you on the sands change of winds is nothing. To these men it may mean the clutch of death. A bar rel goes floating up or down the shore, you may wonder why it does not drive in, but the thought comes and goes. To these men it signifies new channel-a wash in a new spot-an- other danger to encounter. Never a man of them but has lost father, brother or son in the vengeful waters !; never man but can tell you how hard he has fought to save his own life.
 Do you wonder, then, that they are grim and silent? Do you wonder that their bronzed faces wear hunted look, and that their lips sometimes move as if whispering to themselves: "It may come tomorrow
 We had been fishing near the bar of the inlet for two hours-a grim old captain and I. Hardly ten words had been spoken. understood him and would not try to break through his crust, while myself felt bit ner- vous over the outlook of the weather and the behavior of the sea. It was a calm, midsummer day, but here and there an ugly cloud, showing ragged all around the edge, sailed slowly about. There was a stiffness which startled me. If voice reached us from the shore it was tinged with melancholy, as if the owner spoke in grief.
 The sea had been calm at first, and 8 babe could have kept its seat on one of the thwarts. By and by there came a sort of shudder, and the boat lifted her bow high in air and sank down with crush to throw the spray 8 score of feet away.
 "Ground swell," explained the cap- tain, as looked up inquiringly.
 You read of quiet sea- It is never quiet. In its calmest moments it trem- bles and shudders like Q woman in the dark, and men call these tremblings and shudderings the ground swell. There is no foam-no defined wave but the sea lifts up as if to throw of . burden. There is malice in it--there is something sinister in every heave. The man looked out to sea, unbroken and unfettered for 5000 long miles, and then at the land. I watched his face, but it was like a stone.
 Just then . shark struck our hook floating out astern, and for the next ten minutes we were busy. All of a sudden we lost the sunshine, and at the same moment heard noise afar up the inlet like iron-shod horses gall loping over cobble-sto street. The ragged clouds had hoated together, joined forces, and white squall was laundering down upon us.
 "Squall! !" said the captain, as he cut the line and let the shark go, and mo- tioned for me to creep under the half deck.
 It was upon us next moment. We were at anchor with the sail down. There was nothing to be done but ride it out The first rush of the sQusll seemed to drive the boat under water, and tho scream of the wind had some thing % devilish in 1t that I was forced to forget all else for the mo- ment.
 For five minutes the boat tugged and strained and heaved, like some terrified animal In the fAce of appall-