The Forrest City times., 1894-08-03
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 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.
 It was three years ago. was sail- ing the Sardinian sea with seven or eight sailors of the coast survey. It was rough voyage for 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, 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 a frail old bark, half decked, where the blast came in as though 1t were quite at home; so we contented ourselves.
 No sooner had we disembarked than the sailors lighted fire for the fish soup. and the captain called me, point ing to little inclosure surrounded by a white 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?"
 ..On 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. I see it still, with its It. tie. low wall: its open door, rusty anu 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. An, the poor. abandoned dead. How cold they must be in their chance tomos'
 We stayed moment kneeling. The captain prayed aloud. Enormous oulls. the only guardians of the cem- etery. circled over our heads, mlngiing their hoarse cries with the wailing of the sea. The prayer finished, we came sadlv hack to the corner of the island where the bark was anchored. NO time had been lost during our absence. We found great fire flaming Tn the shelter of rock. and the soup smok- ing. Sitting down in circle wi'n our feet to the flames, soon eacn hao onbis knees a bowl of red pottery, m which were two slices of black bread, covered plentifully with the broth. The repast was a silent one We were wet. we were hungry. and then' the nearness of the graveyard.
 However, when the bowls were emp tied we lighted our pipes and talked ,;ttle-naturally of the Semillante.
 .Tell me. how did it happen2 l asked the captain, who, with ms heaa on his hands, stared at the flames with . thoughtful air.
 How did it happen?' said the good I.;onetti with heavy sigh. Alas no human being can tell. All we know IS that the Semillante, laden with troops, left Toulon the evening before in oad weather. During the night it grew ryorse-wind, rain and terrible sea- the like of which was never seen oe- fore In the morning the wind fell uttle but the sea was worse, II pos .;hle and with it the devils own fog' so That one could not have distin-