Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1894-10-27
AL IS W E L L
From All the Year Round.
CHAPTER /.

"ARs wellr'
The musical cry fioated down from the
two black figures that stood, vaguely out
lined through the mist high above the
vessels deck.
1t hoated down, in Overwhelming ripples,
round the great black hull and over the
tossing wat ers. 1t was caught by the waves
as they dashed from the vessels PROV, and
raced past her tall Sides and foamed, and
splashed. and edded in her wake. 1t was
caught up and thrown back, and carried on
again, and swept ~out into the 'night-out
into the night, and the shrouding mist, and
the rolling waves of the Atlantic; and there
the ripples of it's sound quivered for the
last time and died away.
1t hoated down, already muffed by the
mist, over the long. wet decks, to the ears
of a man who paced to and fro in the after
part of the vessel 1t floated down and
struck upon his ears, and vibrated in them
like the ringing of bell.
And the man turned in his restless walk
and paced back again, with the cry still
echoing in his ears: AIS well!'
He even repeated it to himself, softly,
slowly like one trying to reassure himself
of some good news, too good to be as yet
believed. He murmured it to himself with
In that monotonous pacing to and fro. His
footsteps fell upon the deck and beat out
the rhythm of the same two words. And
each time that he murmured them, each
time that his listening brain caught that
sound in the rushing of the wind, or the
whistling of the ropes, or the steady tramp
of his own footballs. there was smile up
on his face that was not good to see
His fellow passengers on board the ship
knew him the Silent Man. No doubt he
had some other name; no doubt the captain
knew, and the ships books held 1t written
down in full, but TO all the passengers who
knew him he was known only as the Silent
Man. And there were few on board VINO
knew him not; few who had not notlced
the tall, &c unit figure that STROBE mcessapt-
ly to and fro, and up and down upon the
deck; few who had not shrunk insensibly
from that hasgard face, and the lips that
murmured forever to themselves, but could
hardly be brought to frame an answer to
another; few who had not wondered who
this man was, with his murmuring lips,
and his taciturnity. and his ceaseless tramp
on the ships deck-who had not specuiate1
on the business that brought him on that
voyage of the Amsterdam across the broad
Atlantic.
once more the bell sounded. and the voices
lang out through the darkness. And the
Silent Man still paced, with bowed head
and folded arms, up and down, to ana FRO,
in the gathering mist.
Once again the bell was almost due to
sound but the cry that broke then from one
of the two motionless figures on the lookout
bridge was not the samoa cry of sudden
fear, of wild alarm-with waving arms and
frantic gestures, and hands pointing out into
the darkness; pointing into the darkness no
longer now; pointing at something vast and
shapeless. like n cloud rising from the water
something that came swiftly, nolseleSsly,
loomingly out of the fog, ever nearer and
nearer, or towering high above the vessel
masts, lit with d strange gimmering light
something that moment later. with noise
of cracking ice, with a horrible, rendinS
grinding jar, with q blow that made me
great ship CULVER like a compass needle
crashed into the bows Of the Amsterdam.
For an instant she remained reared up
against the iceberg. held fast In the Jagged
with a rushing swirl of water, slid back into
the waves.
She was sinking in mid-Atlantic.
One of the first boats that were launched
contained the Silent Man. He had taken his
place quietly almost mechanically. He was
rowing now, and the beat of his oar in the
rowlock seemed to him, as he gazed back at
the misty outline of the sinking ship. to be
still grimly. darkly, ominously echolnS those
words: "AlPs well!'
All that night they rowed, menaced in
cessantly by masses of detached ice, by float
ing wreckage, by foam-topped surf that
broke over the open boat-all that night and
the next day, and for many days after
Who can tell the horror of those days?
OF days when the shrouding mist robbed
them OF all hope of rescue; when the sun
beat down through the damp-laden atmos-
phere for hour after hour on their uncovered
heads; when cloud in the sky came TO
screen them for an instant from it's scorch-
ing, dazzling rays; when they drifted they
knew scarcely whittier, and heard afar on
the fog signals of vessels that passed them
UNDECIDED in the mist; when arms ached ana
strength was failing. and hunger and thirst
were doing their fell work, and courage ana
hope together were well-nigh spent.
OF nights when the rising breeze blew
through their saturated clothes and chilled
the very life within them when other boats,
the companions of their fate, were missed
and lost sight Of when the great rolling
swell threatened In the darkness to over
whelm them, and each giant wave as IL
passed seemed only to delay the death that
the next must surely bring; when the
misery and anguish, and despair were made
deeper. and blacker, and more lntolerable by
the darkness.
OF DAYS and nights later on when the heat,
and thirst and weakness had done their
work. and men began to rave, and sing
aloud, and say wild, unmeanng thlnSs' Wnen
fever and death came among them; Wnen II
was no longer a strange sight to see dead
men-their bodies stripped, that their cloth
ing might afford protection TO the living
cast over into the gray waves without
PRAYER almost without thought; when the
number of the living souls on board that lit
tie boat shrank awfully from day to day.
When there were at last out SIX allVe-but
fye-and then, one dim, gray morning,
only three. 800, - r,,- -,
these days he lived-Silent, unmoved, I'M
compla,ning working at his oar like a
tireless machine possessed, as 1t were,
with a very greed for life. Through all
those DAYS he lived-untouched by hunger
or thirst by heat or chill, by fatigue, or ex-
posure or despair; through all those days
unheeding everything around him, living In
a sort Of dream.
He had dreamt the same waking dream
that night when ne paced to end fro on
the deck of the Amsterdam. He had dreamt
the same dream, but not quite all of 1t;
had seen the same dream-figures, sleeping
and waking for twelve months past; but
now-in his weakness and the horror of his
| daily life with madness and delirfum, and
death AL around him-the dream-figures
gathered color and vividness and substan-
| TALLY; they became to his disordered brain
| as living comrades, living and moving with
| him in a different world.
The scenes of the vision always required
| in the same order.
| A cottage lying at the end of long shad.
| ed garden The sun shining on the red-tiled
| roof, and the white muslin curtains in the
| little windows, and the rustic porch OF
| trellis-work, on which a rose tree climbs
| stragglingly. The garden, bright with flow
4 ering lilac, and dropping arbors of labur
num- and all the uncultured profusion OF
| English country flowers. The air around
| filled with the fragrance of the blossoms
A.