St. Johnsbury Caledonian. [volume] (St. Johnsbury, Vt.) 1867-1919, 1897-06-11

SuSucu Ill tuiOuSu tuS oSuPPSio az
every roll to look for the chief engi.
neer. Passing the engine room door,
the humping and the changing that
foated up were quite enough to tell
Of WORKOUT journals and general
out.oflinedness to one who could
interpret it. l found the chief in his
room, rubbing his hands with the
inevitable ball OF waste, and said:
what kind of mill have you got p
"Weel," he said-for most marine
engineers are Clydesdale men
there's may be waur jobs afoat,
but havena seen yin. Man, do we
no hear her clack .clackin' and a.
wheeze-wheezin'? There's third O.
the tubes in the port boiler plugged
and patch leakin'; forby the fire.
man Gamma keep steam wi they dirt
o. Goals"
Now a Clyesdale man is rarely
satisfied with his engine and would
burn gold if he could get it, so did
not think too much OF this outburst,
but had only to understand that the
engine was not what he would have
called an A 1 mill"
Soon afterward the already strong
breeze began to freshen up, and when
the sun sank, glowing orb of cop
per beneath ragged-edged bank Of
dark clouds, leaving a brassy yellow
glare glowing across threatening sky
and angry water, it was evident we
were in for bad weather.
The seas were rapidly growing
sleeper and breaking more sharply,
while the heavy tramp steamer flung
herself about and rolled as if she
would shake the masks out of her,
with water and spray already flying
in all directions.
For some hours l hung about on
the bridge, under the lee of the
dodgers" or canvass screens, chat
ting with the mate and trying to
evade the singing spindrift which
dashed our faces like a whip from
time to time. At last as the poop
dis appeared to the top of the hand
wheel in rush of water, the mate,
shaking the water from his SOU
wester, said:
"It she jumps any more the chief
will be slowing her down. He's an
awful old heather over that broken
down engine of his; the second says
he sits and talks to it in bad weather.
Anyway, the sooner we get this
hoker home, the better"
Sleep that night was difficult, for
every now and then, as the steamer
lifted her stern clear of the sea, the
whole poop shook to the heavy
vibration of the whirring propeller,
until, knowing what ship plates and
bad rivets are, l sincerely wished
myself out of it. In the morning
found the water pouring deep over
either rail, while all around stretched
wild, drifting crested sea, the spin
drift, torn off the waves, drifting
along before hard northeasterly
gale beneath low-Aying scud that
swept the mastheads.
Some of the cargo had shifted, and
the Corona lay down to it and wal
lowed as only deep tramp can,
showing her bows up to the foremost
into the big ridges that rolled down
upon her. There were tons of water
rolling about the decks and minia-
ture cataracts pouring from bridge
and houses, but she was still going
ahead-at least, the engines were,
though the chief said:
MAN, the auld mills turning half
speed, but we'r baum back sterrun
first tae Las Palmas.
The misfortunes began to arise;
something got adrift on the forecastle
head and changed about, it may have
been an unshackled chain or anchor
flashing. Three men, watching their
time and clinging to the rail when a
heavy sea came on board, crawled
forward. was watching them from
the bridge and saw an unusually
large wave rising ahead-a wall of
glittering green water, curling over
iuto foam at the summit. The CAP
tain waved his hand to the men and
they grasped the rails. Next moment
the bows disappeared deep in the sea
and when the steamer slowly lifted
streaming forecastle out of the ocean,
only one remained, clinging half
drowned to the rails; while as the
vessel rolled heavily down and the