The Austin weekly statesman. (Austin, Tex.) 1883-1898, 1893-06-01
THE SEVEN BELLS.

every now and then in overhauling
literature 1 see where the old gophers are
still letting off loud howls which make
me weary"
1t was Mr.. Tokens, the marine, who
thus complained Of the gophers and their
conduct in literature as he slowed his
timber leg under the mess table and
brought his hairy fist down on the same
with thump that made the dishes dance.
The old gentleman looked weary, con-
dition the skipper remarked and which
cause Mr.. Skate, A. B., to wish he were
only half as tired.
The Seven Bells club was in executive
session in the cabin of the Anchor chop
house, with Mr.. Tokens in the chair. He
had evidently been reading something
which did not agree with him. 1t was
seldom anything did meet his views, I'M
less it were an invitation to drink, and
then he only consented with apparent re-
luctance
No one, not even the inquisitive lub-
Der, Willie Bloke, ventured a query re-
garding the old gophers until after the
skipper had ordered bottle of red wine
with which to raft the rib steaks hume.
Then the recognized head of the organ
ization addressed Mr.. Tokens:
$50 the gophers are at it AGAIN." he
hazarded, though he had not the remotest
idea OF what the marine was driving at.
"They are always at it, bowling
through the long aud the dog watches
and making all hands sick. If they
didn't have the boots or the bug juice,
why didn't they give an order on the
nearest store and let us have peace?"
AS Mr.. Tokens delivered himself of
this remarkable statement the club ex-
changed uneasy glances, and Willie Bloke
grew pale.
"Give him some settler or something"
he whispered to the skipper.
"May I ask you, sir, what kind of lit
erature you have been overhaulingY the
skipper gently inquired, paying no heed
to the lubber's agitation.
"The early logs of different states
history, l believe they call it, which is
full of old gophers who could have
bought the lot where the courthouse
now stands for pair of boots, or got a
quit claim deed to the after end of Kan
sas for pint of whisky. But they didn't
have the boots or the liquor, so they keep
on bowling"
"He's all right" whispered the skip
per, greatly relieved. give heard these
bowls myself"
''They are driving express wagons now
or loafing around in groceries" Mr.. Tok-
ems went on, blowing their lungs out
telling how rich they would be if things
had been different. That's what makes
me weary. 1t isn't the chances a man
has in life, but the way he hooks on and
uses his head and steering gear. You
never heard me growing about the hard
luck that leftme stranded in my old age"
"Have you had some narrow escapes?"
asked the lubber.
Escapes from what?'
"Being wealthy"
well, l should say 1 have. Boots,
modify blankets and beverages are no.
where, but it wasn't my fault. A Junk
headed, chuckle Drained, tar tainted, ig-
norant seaman blasted my hopes in life"
And Mr.. Tokens broke forth into tor
rent of picturesque blasphemy that
would have exhausted pirates roper
tory.
"These here remarks about ignorant
able seamen is swipe at me, take it,
said Mr.. Skate, rising and waving his
fists in the air.
Don't get choppy," cautioned the
skipper as he dragged Mr.. Skate back
into his chair. "Let the man spin. You
amt the only able seaman alive"
Apologies followed, and then the ma.
rine squared away on the course sug-
gested by the old gophers in literature
"a shipwreck that left me to starve on
desert island would have made my pile,
but for this bull headed able seaman.
He's dead now and out of the way, but
my sailing days are over since l got this
leg" Here Mr.. Tokens pounded the leg
on the floor and did little more orna-
mental swearing.
"We were bound from Liverpool to
Australia with general cargo when an
equinoxial gale ripped the canvas off us
and drove the ship ashore. The ship
grounded in the night on Sydney island
in the South sea, one of the Phoenix
group, located in longitude III degrees
20 minutes west, latitude % degrees
south, and all hands persisted but me and
one able seaman. When daylight came,
we found ourselves on desolate lagoon
island lying low on the horizon and
leagues away from the track of naviga-
ton. The hull of the vessel, which was
an iron one, was piled up on the beach
with bales, barrels and boxes of cargo
that came ashore with the wreck.