The Wichita daily eagle. [volume] (Wichita, Kan.) 1890-1906, 1893-07-07

noyingiv painful. There are no orders
to be given. Those who converse lower
their voices. as people do when there is
death in the house.
AT six o'clock the men are sent to sup
per. They eat in such silence that the
ship seems to be deserted forward of
the mainmast. They hurry the meal.
for no man can say what moment the
storm king will make his wild charge.
Two or three of them light their pipes,
and the blaze of the matches strikes
against the darkness as If it were
stone wall. 1t is the darkness of the
glooniest dungeon ever built BY human
hands. 1t seems to press You down
like dead weight and to clutch at you
with clammy fingers.
Ready. there. Forward
THE captains sudden shout is fol-
lowed by long-drawn moan in the
west-a moan which gradually changes
into wild, fierce scream as the gale
strikesus We are broadside on. Every
man holds on for dear life. The great
ship is at first pushed down until her
decks are asvash, and then she is lifted
up and heeled over to port-over and
over until the ends of her yards are in
the water and the decks straight up
and down. Men shut their eyes that
they may not see the specter of death.
One-two-three minutes, and then she
slowly rolls back to starboard. swings
her head to the east, and away we 60
before shrieking, bowling, scream
ing hurricane, which seems mad
dened at our escape. The ship
must be brought around before the
sea gets up. Men clutch and crawl
and creep about The din is Internal
No orders are given, but all understand
what is to be done. When oil is ready
she swings slowly about. with her nose
to the gale, falls off on the port tack,
and the stormsail holds her there. Tue
wheel is lashed~ another sail is mado
ready in case OF accident. and human
hands can do no more. The wrath OF
heaven has been let loose on the wide
sea. and were there mountains here the
force of the wind would make them
tremble to their foundations.
cat midnight the ship is soaring up,
up, up. until you half believe the gale
clasped hands under her keel and lifted
her clear of the mad waters. She
reaches the crest of the mountainous
wave, hangs there for moment, and
then rushes down, down, until every
lip breathes prayer and every heart
stands still. At the crest of the wave
legion of demons are skulking and
= I, =
quiet you can hear the drip of the water
from the roof Of the deckhouse. At
daylight the spectacle is appalling.
The ocean is snow white with its boil
ing. The waves come rolling up until
they seem to tower as high as the mast
heads, and from the crest of each one
the gale catches the milk-white foam
and whirls it in patches and sheets
higher than the peaks of the Andes.
''As the sun comes up, red and dull,
there is shout from every man on the
decks of the ship. Bread away on our
starboard side is an English troop ship.
wrecked aloft and damaged allow.
There are gangs of men at the pumps
and her decks are crowded with Others
who can do nothing but wait. The
gale will not reach its height till noon.
There is not one chance i'll a thousand
for that ship Her sluggish actions
tell us that the water is gaining on the
pumps, and the wild filings of her bow
spirit are tokens that she is inclined to
breach to- They see US as we see them.
Here and there is woman, here and
there sailor, but most of them are
soldiers They set no signal. There is
no hand outstretehed. Some of them
do not even raise their eyes to us.
Some are dumb with the horror Of the
situation. All are helpless as the shreds
of foam flying across the face of the
morning sun. 1t is scarcely thirty min
utes from the time we catch sight OF
her when her side swings away, the
gale catches her broadside, and the
next moment she has vanished from
sight, swallowed up as stone drops
out of sight down the shaft of mine.
We utter a cry of horror, but they are
dumb. The gale brings no shout, no
cry. One moment she was there with
six hundred souls aboard. The next it
is as if we had slept and dreamed 1t
all. Chicago Times.