The Fulton County news. [volume] (McConnellsburg, Pa.) 1899-current, 1900-08-16

back of Gasket Bay, on the
north bank of the Pantoaet
River. Pantoset River is narrow
stream, widening into Gasket Bay.
and rolling out to sea in long even
swells. The two banks of this little
ribbon of water, dignified as river,
are coated with sedge and salt furze
which grows scraggly in the white
glistenlng sand. The south bank
slopes down into long stretch of
marsh land. spreading out like a green
carpet TO tine gray sea beyond. The
north bank runs up country and is lost
in horizon or pine-clad hills.
From the deck of a vessel entering
the harbor the cluster of little white
washed cottages, which compose the
village Is but handful of seashells,
marked by small white-coated mast,
the spire of the First Church. Run
ming up stream, one by one the white
shells take definite form. and finally
you have accomplished Pantoset, i'm
maculate in its sparkling whitewash.
The cottages are all of one size, all of
one pattern; low, two-storled and ga
ble-roofed.
Along the river side can be seen lit
tle knots of men hammerlng away at
skeleton hulls. which seem before your
eyes to grow into trim underbodies of
racy little fishing smacks, and perhaps
among the lot graceful whaler is
building. There are no plans or specl-
fications lying about, no sets of instru-
ments of mechanical intricacy; the
science of these builders is rule of
thumb" a science gathered by years
of intimate acquaintance with the sea
and the craft thereof. BY intuition
they know the necessity of every bolt
or peg. the required symmetry of
every beam or plank, and. when the
work Is done, science-mcchanica
stands abashed.
Passing this line of workers to the
outpoint of the village, you see the
trim little hull of dlsmantled clipper
propped snugly between two furze-cov-
cred sand dunes. A curling ribbon of
gray smoke winds up and out of tiny
smokestack, erect on the top of the
whitewashed cabin. At the end of the
sand dunes and almost by the stern of
the hull, can be seen a little brass
bound ladder leading up to the deck
In highly polished brass letters gls-
tening on the stern Is the legend Glen
cosset."
The master of this uncommssioned
craft is oil Cap'n Hepburn. the crew,
Ed Viler and Joe Scudder.s Though
this ships company, or household, is
governed in its daily routine by strict
nautical rules, there are no cabin or
foc'sle distinctions. Probably at the
very time you are regarding this seem
ingly ill-disposed structure three gi'iz-
zled, bearded, and weather-beaten old
men-brlne coated and bronZed-are
engaged In an exciting game of pino-
chile in the cozy little cabin below, or
rummaglng through dog-eared log
books reminiscent of ancient cruises.
The walls of the cabin are hung with
relics cleaned from II hundred foreign
ports In the days when American ship
ping was in the fulness of its glory
Besides home for OF Cap'n Hep.
burn and his crew, the Glencosset is n
rendezvous for all Pantosets veteran
mariners, and of Wednesday or Sat
urday night the capacity of the cabin
Is taxed to its utmost to contain the lit
tie host Of tlmewOrn tars who come for
soclable talk of the good old days
swallowed up in the mists and shadows
of their youth
One Saturday evening late in the fall
the Glencosset's cabin was full
"A ,sx
of the sea. whose Drowned and hardy
countenancGs bore the imprint of halt
century's labor on the main.
or Cap'n Hawkins, whose repertory
of sea yarns, often suspected of color
was known far and wide to decade
of seafaring men, was the first tC
break the silence.
MATES, brace my bob-stay, Of thinl
ever toll you o. an experience o
mine as er landlubber back in thel
fOrties"
The assembled mariners exchanged
covert glances of deep Significance
and settled back in their chairs In at
titudes OF constrained defereuce to th'
words Of the speaker
''Es l said" continued Cap'n Haw
kins, "'twas back in ther rortics.
was er strip o n cabin boy jest beache,
from my first long cruise China.
think Their gold fever was ct It
height. Stories o. onearthed treasur
ihet nd make er buccaneer smack hi
Ups were spinnln' ct every hearth. Il
J he'd no berth at ther time [ though
yd hoist anchor an pint ship fer the
Iold fields.
I'D saved my wages an ct dldn'
pke me long ter fit ship an get unde
Yay.
II took ther overland course on q
trim er bit o. horseflesh es ever wor
er martyngale.
Besides what ther scholars call the
'desiderata,' fer the v'yage, | he'd 9
slx-shootln' revolver o. ther lates
make.
II sailed erlong through storm an
calm. over mountains, ercross plains
sometimes In company with other
burnin' with ther same fever an hu
ryln' erlons like all possessed fer the
Iand o. promise, but most times erlon
BY ther time got to ther great plain
could shoot Il ball from my little gu
through ther eye O. er mosquito al
never turn a hair