The Republican journal. [volume] (Belfast, Me.) 1829-current, 1896-01-16

Cold and gray the morn awakens on the
eastern edge of the Grand Banks; the
chilly fog bank lifts for the no ce, and
archng itself like a gruesome pail over
the grayisll waters, there, like specter
unveiled, heaving and groaning, swayng
and steering, evidencing total absence
of the watchful eve and the skilled hand
of the helmsman, lies ship. A ship.
| That thing of beauty which had sailed
from port with colors flying, with white
sails filled to the breeze, with brave and
| joyous hearts whose voices rose with the
gale, and whose minds in the mazes of
duty were ever fixed on the welcome
awaiting them when Christmas should
herald the homeward- bound. But the
lifting of the raw December fog discloses
a dismal and dreary scene; the wind has
lost its minstrelsy and has lowered to a
dirge. The sea-birds hover around and
around as though they viewed the once
eement-or is it that they revel in the
Storm Kings anger, in that they alone
are able to survive his wrath upon all oc-
casions to shrek at his utter inability to
drive them from his domain, and to mock
the efforts of the toling few who have
failedo
The derelict tells her own story; her
| boats ale smashed, her rudder is gone and
the relies OF spare spars and hawsers
about her quarters give evidence of an
herculean effort to guide her path through
/ the relentless pillows. Nothing stands
but her miZzen- lowermast with the
Gro Jack yard a-cockbil, while above is
seen her ensign, the remnant of which is
dashed TO the Gro jack brace, which does
| service as a halyard-neVer to be hauled
down. No water-tanks are on the deck,
/ and forward are evidences OF battle with
thirst; the remaining copper has a tight
i fitting wooden lid, and in it is piece of
broken tubing which has conveyed the
steam, and which dripped its meager con
densings into other vessels. The bell at
the break of the forecastle- head is shat
tered, the result CT crowba beatings
by aching arms when the rockets had
given out, and when some fast liner S
lights enkindled a spark of hope in the
famished breasts of the toilers, only to be
crushed by a flicker, the shadow of few
anxious moments, and the thing was gone.
Manly, fearful, soulful was the task
when Hope itself lay dead, when Reason
itself had lost its throne, had they fought
against the mighty odds of those madden
ing elements-hunger, thirst and expos
ule. Mduly anu iucOneGenllN IneE spoke,
until each was lost to know another S
verbiage; the optic nerves had lost their
functions, save when an occasional spark
appeared on the horizon, then would a
mad lucidity pervade their souls for the
time, and with its disappearance would a
collapse of utter inanity supersede.
i lis night again, and clear northwest
moon lights up the rightly
and coldly. and the scud is flying across
its face at lightning speed. Anon and it
is felt below-the gale has begun anew,
and ere long the waters are dashed into
huge pillows and the frail vessel is again
being swept by their fury. Life again
seems to possess the mariners, but with
that life gnawng, craving, madden
ing desire for drink awakens, until the
grave decision Of voluntary sacrifice is
arrived at, and, budding together in a
sheltered spot they draw lots No pen
may picture what was to follow but ere
the cleaning steel has claimed its victim,
a generous wave sweeps the ship amain
and that last of all terrible resources has
been averted. Day after day, day after
day, helpless wreck, she drifts hithe1
and thither, far from the track of vessels,
tempest tossed and forlorn, until chance
vessel passing within hailing distance
stands by. But the shouts of the eager
brothers to the rescue are lost; no response
comes back over the hooking waters, no
sound save the scream of the sea-gull. T.
H. Matthias, in the Coast Seamen's Jour