Santa Fe new Mexican. [volume] (Santa Fe, N.M.) 1898-1951, 1898-01-10
A DRAMA OF THE SEA.

A DRAMA OF THE SEA.
Deeply touched and still quivering
with emotion, I write these lines.
Many aud full of terrors are the sea
tragedies enacted on this island, that is
nevertheless rightly named the "beauti-
full"
Its lovable and courteous inhabitants
are divided into two distinct classes
farmers and fishermen.
The former plant wheat, corn, oats
and potatoes.
The latter catch the sweet feshed
funny fish, sardines and Holsters.
Neither farmers nor fishermen ever
become rich, and meat is almost UNI
known in their homes.
The people are, therefore, far from
strong, the women especially being ten
der and delicate, with straight noses,
slender, graceful necks and a slow, arts
tocratic carriage.
The men are of medium height and
we'll built, but lack tho vigor charac-
terizing the peasants of Normandy.
The islanders are proud and never
beg. A careful observer cannot fail to
notice that among the many wrinkles
which give character to their faces
those written by laughter are wanting
Both men and women have a serious
and melancholy air, and their %foreheads
seem burdened with sad memories Or a
certain restlessuess. Has not each one
a father, a brother, or "a sob Oh the ma
lignant water that lies out there-out
there-encircling the island everywhere
as far as the eye a reach?
Here these people have lived for cen
turtles surrounded by a moving, agitated
cemetery that smiles so alluringly and
at the anne time SO ~savagely.
Occasionally the laughter of a child
in one OF the huts bubbles out toward it's
mother working in the fields. Her face
lightens up for a moment, but she dare
not seem happy, for as she turns there
lies the sea, and its waves sob as they
roll at her feet.
Yesterday there stood near me a
dainty little girl Of IS. She shaded her
eyes with one hand in order to watch as
long as possible her brother, who was
walking down the street leading to the
harbor of Bordery. Soberly as a matron
sho called after him: BE careful of
yourself and do not take cold. Au revoir!
Good catch!'
The boy disappeared, and his sister
returned to arrange her little household
for the home coming of both her broth
ers, as the three were orphans to whom
the state paid a small pension.
The girl was dressed i'll mourning,
Father and Mother Gouenantin having
died two years before-he in the hospi-
tai after ~ days OF cruel suffering caused
by the poisonous sting Of a fish, she a
few days later from consumption and
grief.
Yes, there they lived, the three Or
phans The elder brother, aged Is, had
arisen at daybreak to be ready for his
share OF sardines. and the other, a lad
Of 10, was just to depart with his cousin
Pierce Marie to catch Holsters.
The three companions. Pierre-M Marie
G%ouenantin, Eugene Gouenantin, the
orphan. and Michel Samzun, boarded a
little boat, L'Enfant du Desert, hoisted
its pale blue sail and disappeared.
=
The heavens were slightly misty, the
wind came out Of the west, and l, sit
ting on the rocks, looked before me,
dreaming the endless dreams born of
the changeless yet ever changing sea as
one gazes into its depths, full of charm
and mystery.
PARKWAY cries caused me to turn my
head and look about.
A flock of screaming sea gulls flying
above me had attracted my attention.
was just about to leave the rocks when
new cries reached my ears. These were
piteous and broken like the sobs Of a
child. arose and, looking toward the
island where the lighthouse of Poulains
stands. saw Mother LIE Pelletier, the
wife Of the lighthouse keeper, down on
her knees, waviLg her handkerchief,
weeping and calling for help.
Workmen. busy in the neighborhood,
saw the woman just rs | did. In a few
moments the little island was crowded
with people.
What a painful. what a terrifying
spectaclel
Opposite the point Of the island, 800
meters from land, lay the boat Len
FAINT du Desert capsized. Her sails were
under water, and on her keel, which
rose in the air, chung Eugene Gouenan-
tin, the orphan. His face was as pale as
. winding sheet, his eyes were closed,
and his head, a plaything for the waves,
swayed from right to left. With my
telescope l could follow the entire de.
velopment Of the tragedy.
The child had become helpless and
was just about to loosen his hold Of the
boat. Right Q him lay Michel Sam
zun, clasping the edge Of the keel con-
vulsively, crying continually for help