Spirit of the age. [volume] (Woodstock, Vt.) 1845-1913, 1899-08-19

sSRs) the green waters
AssIiSsssE 80 ss->~ of Lake Mlchi-
gan, my ears were
startled by shrill whistle, and l saw a
tiny tug putting out into the short lake
rollers. She was a queer, stubby
craft, but stanch, as one could see at a
glance.
Her skipper, stern-faced Scotch
man, stood in the little pilot-house.
In the door of the engine-room leaned
a sturdy young fellow, not unlike him,
while from coil of cable on the stern
a bent figure waved farewell to the
loiters on the pier head. On the low
stern I read the name: Defiance, Of
Kahnopee."
IA brave namer said to the man
who was fishing beside ne.
He nodded. "a brave name and a
brave set OF fellows" he replied, glanc.
ing at her.
Glow is that?" l asked, for his man
ner limited a story.
He smiled. "You must be q stranger
here if you've never heard of the loss
of the Matilde.'
II have never heard of it. Was it
long ago."
He changed his position, like man
settling himself for long talk, and
drew in his line to inspect the bait.
"1'll tell you,' he said, and here l
record his tale.
Andrew Muir, he's skipper of the
Defiance, was always hard man. L
don't mean bad man, but man who
always did what he thought right, and
expected other people to do the same.
So he made himself good many enc
mics, though some respected him,
since he asked no more from others
than he did from himself.
IN the fall, you know, lake naviga-
ton becomes slack, looking toward the
winter suspension of navigation. The
lake begins to ice up. and few vessels
except the big steam ice.breakers VEN
ture out. But there are always few
schooners here and there, carrying
cord-wood, lumber and small stuff,
that will risk late trip so as to be
last in the market. Except for what
comes from these, there's little bust
ness for towboats after Thanksgiving.
But Andrew was thrifty and would
let no cent slip. So he would keep
the little Defiance by the piers till the
ice began to shut in, and many good
dollar he has made. 1t was all
through this wayof his that the thing
Happened.
No one here will soon forget TINT
night in the second week of Deem
Der, three years ago. 1t was Il wild
night. The wind had been of to the
east all day-not gale, but good
stiff blow that sent the breakers in
high on the beach. Andrew had re-
ceived telegram about noon, saying
that the Matilde, little lumber
schooner from the North, was to try
to make Kahnopee that night. They
asked him to keep good lookout for
her and help her in, for you must
know that to come into one of the
piers Of our lake ports, unless the
wind and sea are favorable, is by no
means easy for sailing vessel.
So Andrew got up steam and watt
ed. I can remember well seeing the
Defiance lying there, all that day,
by the wet pier, with the soft snow
slushing upon her warm decks.
About ten o'clock that night it came
on to blow harder and to snow furi-
Ously. 1t was not cold enough to
freeze, and the snow still melted as
it fell, but the chill was bitter, and
one was glad to be under shelter. An
drew had been up all the night before
with a sick member of his lodge, so
he turned in about midnight and left
his boy, John, to keep watch. Olsen,
the fireman, slept aboard, and the
fires were banked, ready. Andrew
hardly expected the schooner to turn
up, but he feli it his duty to be ready
to bring her in if she should venture.
Now John was fine young fellow
OF nineteen, as strong aud honest
fellow as I've ever seen. There's not
q man here, Andrew excepted, that
I'd sooner trust my life with. But
John was young, and his mother, per-
haps, had been too soft to him.
Well, John paced that pier, back
and forth, back and forth, for more
than an hour. He could see nothing
toward the lake but now and then the
crest Of some big comber. 1t was a
lonely, chilly, ugly place, and it made
him mad to see the lighted windows
Of the town, where other boys lay in
comfort.
Now, a few hundred yards mp, there
lay a schooner, the Sallie B., from
Green Bay, with crew Of old chums
OF his. aud he thought he'd see if she
lay all right at her moorings. for they
had all gone uptown frolicking.
Now, just rs he came up to her, by
bad luck, down they came to board
her, four of them, the brightest,
merriest, widest lot of fellows
on the lake, singing and shouting
and larking as they came. The
minute they saw John they had him by
both shoulders. Nothing would do
but he must come aboard. In fact,
they nearly dragged him over the side
and into the hot little cabin. Once
there, it was by no means easy to get
away. There was fine fire in tho
stove; there was plenty to eat and
drink; there was the jolliest of stories.
And whenever he made the least move
20 60 they would pull him back into
his seat.
T.