The Bossier banner., 1894-09-13
SEMILLANTE'S WRECK.
A Thrilling Story Of the Sardinian
Sea.

As the violent storm of the other
night has thrown us on the Corsican
coast. let me tell you a terrible story
OF the sea, of which the fishermen of
the place often speak at eventide, and
about which chance has enabled me
to learn strange particulars.
1t was three years ago. was sail
ing the Sandman sea with seven or
eight sailors of the coast survey. 1t
was rough voyage for a novice; we
did not have one good day through
March. The wind was furious and the
waves never calmei. One evening, as
we were flying before the tempest, our
vessel came for refuge to the mouth
OF the Straits of Bonifacio, among some
little islands.
Their aspect was not alluring. They
were great, bald rocks, covered with
birds, some bushes of lentisk, a few
tufts of absinthe, and here and there,
in the slime, decaying pieces of wood.
But, my soul. it was better to pass the
night among these sinister rocks than
to be on frail old bark, half decked,
where the blast came in as though it
were quite at home; SO we contented
ourselves.
No sooner had we disembarked than
the sailors lighted a fire for the fish
soup, and the captain called me, point
ing to a little inclosure surrounded by
awhile wall almost lost in the mist at
the end of the island "Will you come
to the cemetery?' said he.
"a cemetery, captain! where are
we?"
ION the Lavezzi islands, monsieur
The six hundred men of the frigate
Semillante are buried here at the spot
where she was lost ten years ago. Poor
fellows! AS they don't receive many
visits, the least we can do is to go and
say: 'Bonjour to them so long as we
are here''
with all my heart, captain
How sad it was, the cemetery of the
Semillante. | see it still, with its lit
tie, low wall; its open door, rusty and
hard to open; its silent chapel; the hun
dreds of black crosses hidden by the
weeds. Not one wreath of immor-
telles, not one souvenir-nothing. All,
the poor, abandoned dead! How cold
they must be in their chance tombs!
We stayed moment kneeling. The
captain prayed aloud. Enormous
gulls, the only guardians of the Gem
etery, circled over our heads, mingling
their hoarse cries with the wailing of
the sea. The prayer finished. we came
sadly back to the corner of the island
where the bark was anchored. No
time had been lost during our absence.
we found great fire flaming in the
shelter of rock, and the soup smol1-
ing. Sitting down in a circle, with
our feet to the flames, soon each had
onhls knees bowl OF red pottery, in
which were two slices of black bread,
covered plentifully with the broth
The repast was silent one. We were
wet we We're hungry, and then, the
nearness of the graveyard.
However, when the bowls were emp
tled we lighted our pipes and talked
Internationally of the Semillante.
Tell me, how did it happen?" I
asked the captain, who, with his head
on his hands, stared at the flames with
athoughtful air.
HOW did it happen?" said the good
Lionetti with a heavy sigh. ALIAS, no
human being can tell. All we know is
mat the Semillante, laden with troops,
iel1 Ioulon the evening before in bad
WNasher During the night it grew
Worse-wind, rain and terrible sea,
the like of which was never seen be-
@ iore. In the morning the wind fell
nttle, but the sea was worse, if pos
aoie, and with it the DEVILS own fog,
80 that one could not have distin-
gulshed beacon light four feet away.
1nose fogs, monsieur! You have no
'aea how deceitful they are. But
aiso nave an idea that the Semillante
must have lost her helm in the morn
Jug Tor the captain, even in heavy
.os, could hardly nave made such
mistake. =. He was well-tried mariner.
y we all knew him. He had commanded
sne corsican station for three years,
ano knew the coast as we'll as I, who
know nothing else"
AZ what time do they think that
me semillante perished?
1t must have been at noon-yes.
s1onsieur, fully noon, but, forsooth,