The Opelousas courier., 1898-10-22
."The ships sinking" he said. "and

"The ships sinking he said, land
| have decided to take to the boats.
There's plenty Of time and room for
all to get away in safety, if you obey
my orders. You will remain standing
where you are till l call your names,
then the man whose nalne is called
will take his place in the boat. Any
man that starts for the boat before |
tell him, | shoot; understand all"
There was a low murmUr from the
; men. and the skipper continued.
"Mr. Smith will take charge Of the
boat"
The mate, with a look at the skipper,
climbed into the boat as she hung in
the davits. The skipper then called
the names of the crew he proposed to
send in her, sending first the sailors,
so that the mafE might place each in
his proper station in the boat, before
the tiremen. etc, who would be of no
use in the critical m~anoeuvres of get
ting her away from the ships side.
crowded her up. But these same FIVE
men did not understand hisn reason,
and thought he was showing undue
preference to his own men, and, a
heavier sea than usual striking the
steamer, there was a cry of "She's go
ing down, and he's sending the sailors
iirst..' and a rush for the boat.
Stand back. cried the skipper.
Crack! and the leading fireman
ct>eooI N,,% 1,ir bands nrl yifahnI on
his face, rolling in a limp bundle
down on the lee rail. The rest of the
men stopped. They might as we'll be
drowned as shot, they thought, and
they huddled together, looking with
Mortified glances at their dead COM
rade. The skipper paused, lowered
his revolver, and then called the next
name; they had learned their lesson.
and went quietly to the boat, which
got safely away, and drifted out of
sight in the midst Of the gale.
The other boat was filled without
any mishap, and the skipper, the only
man left on the deck, lowered her: she
also got clear away and drifted out to
the full length of her painter. The
skipper walked aft to wait for them
to haul up again. He had to pass the
body CO the dead a and he did not
look at it. The boat was hauling up
on the painter. and was getting close;
the skipper got on the rail ready to
jump. AT that moment q fireman, the
brother of the man he had shot, reach
ed over the boats bow, and, with a
cry of BLAST you, stop and drown
with Bill" cut the painter.
The distance between the ship and
the boat began to widen instantly,
and in spite of the frantic efforts of
the sailors at the oars, the deeply Ia
den boat was swept away and blotteh
down from the rails and made his
way back to the bridge deck. He had
just ten minutes to live. Ten minutes
to prepare for the next world, after
forty years at sea!
He climbed up on the bridge again,
and sat on the canvas windscreen to
think. His wife and children, who
would look after them now? His
wages were $50 per month; on that he
had had but small chance to save
Well. he supposed the Shipmasters'
Society would do something for her,
but she would have to give up her lit
tie house at Forest Gate, and drop
from the position of a captains wife
to letting lodgings; perhaps one Of the
children could be got into an orphan
age; if not, well, it meant starvation
or the w%orkhouse. He thought of his
own life, of his hard, ill-used boyhood,
cabin boy in Quebec on a timber ship;
of his manhood spent in unremitting
toll in all parts of the world; of the
various ships he had commanded, in
each of which he had been expected
to use less coal, less paint, fewer pro-
visions, and to go with smaller crews
than in the last. He thought Of the
b%lackguards he had had to command
crews, and the trouble he had had
with them, and the old sailor proverb
rose to his lips: ITO live hard, work
hard, die hard. and so to Davy Jones's
locker after all, would be too hard"
Well, he'd not had much fun out Of
life, and now he was going to find out
what it all meant. Anyway, he had
always done his best for his ship.
His eye fell on the dead body of the
fireman. That too! If the man should
indict him at the bar of the last judy
ment he would answer there, as he
would have answered to an earthly
court: "In my judgment it was neces-
sary for the safety Of the men in my
charge" A sudden CULVER warned
him she was nearly gone, and he rose
to his feet for one last look to wind
ward. AS he looked into the binding
spray, he saw a large wave come out
of the mist, and knew it would swamp
her. He gripped the rail with both
hands, and his lips moved in a half
forgotten prayer. "Our Father. which
art'-and the wave swept on. But
the Saraband had gone. The skipper
had gone to meet his fireman where
there shall be no more sea."-Temple
Bar.