Santa Fe daily New Mexican., 1897-11-03
LOST IN HARBOR.

brig called the Alice of London was
running toward the land, bound for the
little port of Fordham on the southern
coast. A steady breeze coming over the
water filled her sails and sent her slip
ping along at quite % record pace. The
rich, warm sunlight turned her gray
and patched canvas into gossamer, gave
an airy lightness to her clumsy spars,
flashed from the pinnacle cover and
cabin skylight, frightened up the bit Of
green paint on her deckhouse and spar
killed. in the spray that shot up from un-
der her bow as she rose and fell with
the motion Of the waves till it looked
like showers of diamonds. Shoreward
the faint outline Of the land was just
discernible through veil of purple
haze. Overhead the sky was fecked
with clouds that were ever changing in
their shape and tints, and as for the
surface Of the sea, the hues Of it that
September afternoon would have defied
the brush of the finest artist that ever
lived.
1t was all ideal sailors day, and the
mate of the Alice seemed to think SO as
he stood at the wheel, bringing his
eyes every now and again off the COM
pass case to glance aloft at the swelling
canvas or away over the iridescent sea.
He was a young fellow of some seven or
eight and twenty, keen Of eye and
strong of limb, with no traces Of gold
lace or fine broadcloth about him-his
dress being an old pair of check trou-
sers, blue jersey and a cloth cap Be-
side him stood the skipper, 30 years
older, with fiery face and moist eyes
an ugly customer if you put him out,
but OH the whole a kindly natured man,
who knew every headland and every
sand bank round the British coast.
Now and then you caught sight Of a
shaggy figure in shirt and trousers NOV
ing about the deck forward, and the
sound Of voices came aft from the fore
castle.
The Alice had never sailed better.
Already the little port was in sight,
and pretty enough it looked as they ap-
preached it, with the spars Of the ship
ping peeping up above the breakwater,
behind them the red tiled roofs Of the
houses on the quayside, and behind
these again the great square tower Of
Fordhan church, landmark to mari
ners for many a century, and all set in
frame Of chalk cliffs, green hills and
woodland and lighted up with the gold
en- sunshine that caught every scrap Of
color that was anywhere about, from
the bit of bunting on ships masthead
to the white houses upon the hillside at
the back Of the town. To enter the har-
bor today was child's play.
''If you keep yonder church about
eight points ON your port bow, it'll
take you straight in,'' said the skipper
~ dare say you could find your way
in blindfolded, " remarked the mate.
The old man grunted and shrugged
his shoulders. "I ought to, he an
swered. "I've known it as man and
boy these SO years, and many's the
time I've had to feel my way in, as you
say. Only last winter I brought up off
here in fog that thick you couldn Y
see half a mile ahead Of you, a slack
tide and light wind. But I got in
without a scrape.
Another time was in charge of a
topsail schooner, got caught in a. gale
in the channel and lost our topmast. A
heavy sea was running across the bar,
and thick snow squalls hid the land
every now and again. put two men
at the wheel, kept the lead going, told
all hands to hold OH like grim death
and got i'll without parting a rope yarn.
But wouldn't care to do it again. It's
all right when you get inside; but, as
you can see for yourself, when you gel
strong sou 'wester and a heavy sea its
dangerous port to make. The timbers
Of many a stout craft are scattered
along this coast in winter time Have
I ever been ashore here? Yes; twice
The first time made a mistake in the
tides and grounded outside the bar, but
luckily it was fair weather, and she
came OIL Safely AoAo oAuOs AAO ASA'
time thought it was all up with us.
We were being towed out in the teeth
Of half gale, when the hawser parted,
and we fouled the pier, carrying away
all the headgear and went ashore just
inside the breakwater. If it had beer
outside, she'd have been smashed into
matchwood before morning. But, though
I've been in and out Of Fordham some
times two or three times a year for thu
last 80 years, I never see that churcl
without being reminded Of my first voy
age and its ending
II was slip of lad, barely 10 a
| the time, and I'd shipped aboard a ketcl
called the Pride Of Rochester, for wan
Of a better craft. You know what thai
means--little food and plenty Of rope'I
end, that was my fare. The skipper wa
d savage and drunken one, too. and
believe If it hadn't been for the mate, l
man named Tucker, / should have beer
pitched overheard before the voyage waI
over. Wewere bound here with a cargt
~ a1aNaa The weather was fine. and WI