The morning news. [volume] (Savannah, Ga.) 1887-1900, 1895-08-11

I 70 the rock for an ak to cut away the luTn-
[ Der with. and then rushed shouting for
ward 10 collect his men out OF the black
night above like stone from
a giants sling, came puliey-block swing
| ing from a broken rope. striking him full
upon the chest with frightful impetus and
hurting him upon the deck bloody
corpse.
Motram saw him fall. and swearing an
oath between his teeth, snatched the
Ratchet from his dying hand. AS he did
SO the end came-the ship struck once
more, every timber in her grOaning as
| though she were full of life, and rose
once more high on the back of a sleek.
black mountain Of water. ribbed and
crested with kissing strands of foam, and
came down as though she were dropped
from the outer skies upon the hard sands
below. her strong ribs bursting to that
mighty impact with noise like cannon
shots, her deck planks starting and bulg-
ing up, her bottom ripping open from stem
to stern, her masts swapping by the board,
and as that unhappy ship rolled over on her
side battered wreck, the black seas hur-
rying one upon another escaladed and
swept her decks from fore to aft of every
loose and living thing.
The captain was a strong swimmer
When he came UP to the surface he first
shook himself free of his heavy boots
and thick coat; then turning his back on
Of the ship, struck out desperately TO
where, from the trend of the waves, he
judged the shore to be. He could have
gone in no other direction, for the surf
ran steep and high, and before many
minutes We're over he was struggling for
very life IN the trough of a fierce ring Of
breakers that were laundering on black
invisible shore
The swim through the caldron of surf
had been play to that landing. He was
battered and bruised, thrown up by
wave, and dragged back by its return
into the arching shadow of the next, until
spent and bleeding, he felt there was but
one more effort in him, and making ii
with despairing strength in a minute of
confusion-scarcely knowing how IL had
happened-he was alone half-naked and
gasping, on the wet sand.
But IL was not the shore. All round
him, as far as he could see, stretched ooze
and sandy wastes dotted with pools of
tide water showing a thought lighter
than the ground about them, a dreary
and desolate wilderness with the wind
bowling over it and white foaming surf
filming out into invisible threads on either
hand. Motram was sensible enough to
know he was not home yet, and as he
peered into the fiawless darkness or lis
tened to the desolate piping Of the gale
over those wind swept tracks and the
confused noise OF the Sed-JuSl tlen al us
lowest ebb-it seemed to him he had but
exchanged a swift and merciful death for
a slow and horrible one
In short time the tide must come up
again. and one by one those acres of mud
and Ooze be swallowed up; 1t would be
possible for a man hemmed in In such d
place to die by inches, to sit and see his
fate creep in upon him through endless
minutes and long dreadful hours of eX-
peCtatiOn.
The thing was not to be thought of.
He scrambled TO his feet and began CROP
ing through the darkness all along the
edge of the ooze, and the first thing he
found was the dead body of one of his
men just in the wash of the waves, which
were rolling him uneasily from side to
side.
The castaway dragged that hapless vic
tim up ten yards, and eagerly stopped
down to see if he lived. but the heart had
stopped, the face was livid. the fists tight
clenched. and Motram turning away in
disgust set off to walk hard, he knew not
whittier
He walked hard for half an hour, STUN
bling and plunging along in the gloom, the
wind chilling him through his sodden
clothes to his bones, and the sharp edges
of shells and stones cutting his bleeding
feet, while the ominous thunder of the
surf seemed creeping up ever closer to
him. as ne plunged along with reckless
haste. Then, when he thought he had
gone mile or so, he saw something dark
lying on the beach ahead, and walking
up to it, found IL was a dead man, and
turning him over saw IL was the very
same he had dragged from the surf a short
time before. lie was not an inch nearer
his deliverance-had come back to the
very spot he had started from.
Then Motram sat down, and hid his
face in his hands and groaned, thinking
of all those things he had thought of SO
often before. and wondering who would
ind his body in the morning on this IN
known shore. he dozed, and prayed at
times, and thought. lie was nearly
asleep, crouching there with his head
upon his knees, when the cold tapping of
the water running in before the waves
of the now swiftly advancing tide again
reused him. He stared round him.
1t was a miserable place to die in. and
miserable TO sit crouching there waiting
for the slow death that played with him,
coming on and stealing back before the
great waves that crept up over the sands
with all the black terror, of the empty
sea behind them. Even a single star
would give him chance-would be some
thing TO guide his feet by, but the sky
above was black as ink. and not glim-
mer in it.
He got up as he turned away in bitter
where the air was clearer along the flats
he had seen something glimmer. 1t was
a pin-point a yellow speck no bigger than
a mote, and yet his heart bounded at the
supposition. He stared and wiped his
eyes upon his sodden sleeve and looked
again.
Yes, there it was without doubt, gol-
den point far away over the wind-swept
sands too low, and yellow, and steady for
a real star; a light on shore, it must be
reckoning him as it were towards 1t, and
| Motram set off running with the tide now
over the ridge of the flats racing after
| him. close upon his heels, like a wild
beast baked of ITS prey; foundering knee
deep through treacherous quicksands, and
racing over the mussel bed whose thous-
and knife edges were so many ingenious
tortures: floundering into deep cold pools.
and losing sight of that pale strange sign
for a moment; plunging recklessly into
broad muddy channels up with the strong
salt midnight tide was already streaming
and swimming across them supported by
the hope of that twinkling guide beyond.
Nothing could have kept Motram up but
the roar of the tide behind, and that hap
Ply chance in front. that strange, mystic