The Helena independent. [volume] (Helena, Mont.) 1875-1943, 1893-03-20
WAKEMAN'S WANDER|NCS
Some OF the Odd Incidents Found
in Foreign Travel and
Observation.
Ceremony Of Leaving Port Brings
Mists to Landward Look
Ing Eyes.
TIE brutal Celebrity of Spanish Military
Vcngosnoe-HcArt Sobs From the
Little Green Isle.

Vengeance Heart Sobs From the
Little Green Isle.
Correspondence Of The Independent.
LONDON. March 6.-There ID always
deeply pathetic side to travel. free as ones
heart may be from signs and shadows.
Many times az you may have Witnessed 1t.
there Is a little drama always performed 81
the great ocean steamers leave The port OF
Now York, which brings the mist to your
landwsrd looking eyes. II you are . "arsi
tripper" il will thrill you deeper still. You
have perhaps wondered THAT that bronzed-
faced man In citizens clothing was doing
up there among the beBpangled Officers
upon the bridge. He seems the quietest
fellow on board. His eyes are singlina out
the row Of channel buoys. or with a glass
rapidly scanning the lower Jersey shores
and the cleaning lines Of the Long Island
sands. or again CHANGING at this point Of
that along the sea horizon. His is an
anxious face. The lines in it unconsciously
picture the human look that tells of some
thing lost. or of great danger that may be.
This man is not the ships captain; but
while he stands there. now and then
giving a low-toned order, he ia abso-
lutely the commander OF the ship. He ia a
New York pilot, detailed from the lower
Wail-street pilot Office to take your ship to
sea. He must remain aboard until Sandy
Hook is passed. and as much further out aa
the steamer captain desires. II 1t be pleas
ant weather when you are abreast of Sandy
Hook you will notice q row boat. yawl-built.
manned by two men. putting out from the
liRhtship anchored between your steamer
and the Hook. This lightship ia simply a
New York harbor pilot-boat. by pilot. reRu-
lations made to do hor turn" of q
months stand" in this unsavory. though
often exciting berth. Her Grew are pilots
'prentices getting their first lessons and ex-
perience at pilots' duties and hardships.
The boat being rowed briskly towards your
steamer in the channel is called . '~'pilot's
punt and the two oarsmen are knottily-
built prentice lads of Is or 20 years of age.
At the same moment the punt heads for the
steamer, the ~latter's engines slow down.
The punt and the steamer meet at the point
of an exact right angle. Lines are cast; the
punt made fast to float alongside the ships
port side; and the rope-ladder is lowered.
Meantime the pilot has resigned
his post on the bridge. The
chief officer Immediately takes his
place. Stepping to the chart room the pi-
lot o~ertiies in the log book that the ship
has duly cleared the port Of New York; the
ships commander certi6es to the pilots
fee, which pilotaRe is paid BY the New York
agents of the line; and in n moment more
the pilot is dropped into the waiting
punt. By the ships rail stands the purser.
Or thu mail otaUard a fhnrpnnA adAouIa
Rood-byes have been hastily written. scaled
and stamped, and hundreds Of kilograms
indited. between the docks and the Hook.
These, the last slender thread between land
and home and the unalterable finality of
your voyage. are let down by line to the pi-
lot. who takes them as with unconscious
ness tenderness in his arms.
Gel desertar!' "El desertar!" were the
low-toned calculations I heard all about
me one April morning. in 1866. in the cabin
OF the ferry-boat "Edouard Fesser," as it
left the Regla side for the two-mile trip
across Havana bay to the city. The cabin
was we'll filled, and in a moment there
came fussinR and Tuning through the mar
row passage to the forward cabin q spanish
sergeant and q guard having in charge a
man of most pitiable appearance. made
room quickly 30 that two seats we're vacant
near me in which the guard and his prisoner
sat. the latter next me. while the sergeant,
forward a bit, pompous with the import
ance of his mission and charge.
These ferries carry the gayest of crowds
between Havana and the beautiful suburbs
TO the east. but he entrance of the party
hushed the laughter and pleasant sallies Of
men and women instantly. All present
seemed painfully exerting themselves to
ignore the presence of the little group but
every one from time to time stole secret
glances at the deserter, and, well for hu-
manly. not a hard look fell upon him.
Some old priests near seemed to be moving
their lips as il III prayer for him, and be-
hind many a fan l could see the face of
some beautiful sonora or senorita in tears.
NOW we'll enough what it all meant,
having once been q soldier. But l did not
at once catch the full import of the brutal
celebrity Of Spanish military revenge. Short
ly the guard closed q hippant recital to a
passenger near him. to the effect that the
man had deserted from the forces at Moro
castle some weeks before, after a trsmen-
dous hogRing for some slight infraot,on of
discipline. had got 80 far as the Jaruco
mountains whore he baf1lad pursuit for
som6 time, but finally had been run down
by blood. hounds.
"Ah, yes." he airily concluded. "he will
zenlly not even need breakfast again. The
%consejo de guerra (court-martial) is already
Awaiting his arrival!'
The deserter was but a boy. He had n
fair face. too, round, almost boyish,' even
through the hunted look that had made
him an old man in terror and desperate
effort during those few weeks in the chap
arral. His clothing was in rags. and his
bare flesh, SCARED and bloody. showed
through. His feet were partly bound with
rags and bark and thongs of the ribbon
tree. He was bare-headed, his hair tanoled
and knotty, and in one place a saber ont
was still Open and bleeding. But he sat
there with his hands clenched and his facs
like a piece Of marble begrimed with mud.
Through the windows of the ferry thu |
spars, rigging and flags of a thousand
ships upon the peaceful bay cleaned and
Rlowed as We passed. The sun that liohted
the whole earth with such splendor kissed
the mountains and made old Moro castle
even beautiful. The deserter looked mt
Moro as with an awful faBcination. Than,
ms If beyond it and what he know was wait
ing for him there. the poor fellows ewes
seemed strained to some point far, far
away. Alb. his frantic soul vaulted the
hated walls to old CASTLE. mayhap to his
" peasant home. to the mother, the ais
ters, TO a peasant girl's matched roof home
by the vineyards. and brave as be was try
ing to be, his whole frame Withheld, his
brenst heaved and suraod, and, though he
clinched his hands tighter and looked old
Moro squaroly in the face, his blue eyes
filled and filled again with tenrs that
scslded their way through tho chaparral
on his face like torrents, A dozen
for rescue shot through my brain.