The Manitowoc pilot. [volume] (Manitowoc, Wis.) 1859-1932, 1899-12-28

Nearer and nearer. and the sun strik-
ing the great triangular object trans
versely. as ii cane cutting through the
CLASSY sea. sent a strange, blush iri-
descence. such as | have noticed in the
wings of flying fish in the sunshine,
over and through it.
That il was the Gorsal fin of some huge
sea monster we both conjectGred, a
moment or two later, as, probably
frightened by the nearness of our boat,
it suddenly sank downward like the
sword of Escalibur.
If we had known, rs afterward, that
the dorsal fin belonged to the sailor
fish," a species of swordfish peculiar to
the Indian ocean. often attaining a
length of 20 feet and upward, given TO
attacking the native boats, we should
probably have felt considerable anxiety.
AS it was, we relapsed into a sort of
dumb apathy. Yet neither broke the
silence.
All the long day and long, sultry
night, tormented by hlmger, and
parched with thirst, we sat crouched in
the bottom of the boat
! remember of thinking alternately
of mother and the little dairy house
built round the spring, bubbling up cool
ledge, while all around were ranged
new, rich cheeses.
| think that on the following fore
noon | had touch of sunstroke |
know my head seemed splitting open,
and, as Joe has since told me. | kept
whispering about the light breeze
which bad sprung up, and how funny
Joe himself looked, standing in place Of
a mast, holding his jacket stripped ur
over his head as q substitute for Il sail
Yet he says that all through this half
delirium did not speak a word directly
to him.
Then there was a blank: and when !
opened my eyes, my head was lying in
Joe's lap, he was crying as though his
heart would break--and what else do
you think he was doing?
He had found few drops of fresh
water left in the heel of the sea boot
that he had used to bail with in the
shower of the night before, and though
half choked with thirst, the brave fell
low was letting the precious fluid
trickle between my parched lips.
| honestly think this saved my life.
81 take it all back, joe" | whispered.
You never tried 10 curry favor with
the mate. and ! was fool to say So
When | came to myself again. | was
lying on a pile of mats under woven
grass awning, stretched over the stern
of native boat that was speeding to-
ward Macassar like bird
A monkey peered down at me from
one of the awning poles; parrots and
cockaioos, tied by the leg 10 rail on
either side. chartered and screeched.
while two young jaguars, not much
larger than kittens, were rolling each
other over in play near the boats
bows,
A pleasant-faced native islander was
steering, and through the medium Of
signs and some pigeon English, we
learned later that, with his pretty
dark-skinned wife and brood of small
children, who were slowed here and
there among the cargo of cocoa nuts
and pearl oyster shells, they had sailed
from an island TO leeward abost a thou
sand miles, before the steady south
west monsoon, to exchange their wares
in Macassar for cotton cloth, cutlery
and colored thread for weaving.
Joe sat by my mat couch. tanning
me, and the native woman gave me CO.
coanut milk to drink, so before long |
began TO feel quite myself again.
And when, about nightfalI, we ar
rived at Macassar, we found the long
boat and crew all safe.
Who of them il was had cast off the
painter Of our boat in the darkness and
storm, 10 one could tell. They all de
MED il, as a. matter of course. and as
the men virtually took charge after
that, Capt. Pratt WIS obliged to leave
Us to our fate-at least, so he explained
afterward.
Two weeks later, Joe and shipped as
ordinary seamen in the Glenmurgan-
shire, bound for London. But before we
went aboard, we shook hands on il hat
if we had another quarrel neither
should wait for the other 10 speak first.
Golden Days.