The Seattle Republican. [volume] (Seattle, Wash.) 1???-1915, 1900-10-05
HANDY ANDY"
By SUSIE REVELS CAYTON

nave SWdilOW6u tlleIn up, IOf all Is /
darkness, black, inky darkness, save
here and there on the steamer where
bright lights make it look like some
creature Of life plowing on and on
amid the darkness. And thus it was
/ on our steamer when suddenly a
scream rang out, followed by a |
splash in the water, and a human
body sank beneath the surface of the
water. ''Man overboardw rang out |
the cry. More lights were quickly
brought, "'Tis Handy Andy"
screamed the mate, as he hastily
scanned his men to see who was miss
ing. 'My God! the man can't |
swim! he added, as Andy's head |
rose above the surface and disap-
peared again. All was eager sus-
pense, and a thrill of terror ran
through the watching ones as Andy's |
head again came above and again
| disappeared. The silence was next
broken by eXclamations of surprise
as a man in their midst snatched off /
his coat, took a running leap and |
dove beneath the water close to the
spot where And was last seen.
Twas onl y few moments, yet SEEM
ngly an age, when Andy's head |
lgain appeared above, and close to it
man who Immediately grabbed |
Andy and held him afoat. The
watchers pressed closer to the boats
2dge and the lights disclosed Andy's
ainting condition, while holding
him up and fighting for life could |
be seen the butt Of his recent dis
pleasure, the small man Nelson.
Then for the first time some one
thought of a rope. It was thrown
to them. None too soon, for Andy |
was not by any means a light weight.
and Nelson was we'll exhausted from
The hardness Of the trip. A boat was
lowered, and the two men were in
short time safe on board the steamer.
Give Andy your attention." said
Nelson as he hied away to his bunk
and was seen no more that night.
The wharf Of st. Louis and the
steamer unloaded The rousters
settled with, and Nelson had stepped |
off of the gang-plank for the last
time, when some one just behind him
spoke: Il would like to say a word |
to you" He turned to see Handy
Andy, who was by that time quite
recovered and considerably cleaner,
from his fall into the river. The
mans chest was heaving, his eyes
swan as if he would burst into tears.
Il owe YOU an apology. stranger" he
at last said, '|for | made it as hard |
for you as | could | told the boys
to burn you cause | thought you
thought you was the man of us all, |
md you ends by saving my life and |
| finds that you is the man." Tears
we're now trickling over his hardened |
'eatures. Would you give me your
land in parting?" he asked, as he
pulled his battered hat from his head |
md stood uncovered in the hot sun,
IN humble, detected yet grateful
1ully. Nelson grasped the proffered
hand, and holding it in his said:
Come, Andy, let us go under yon-
Ter shed. | would like for you to
ell me something of your life. [
might be able to aid you in some
way" ''There amt much to tell
anybody, dear knows" said Andy,
when he and Nelson had climbed
lpon a cotton bale beneath the shed
nd in full view of the steamer. "I
lon't know who | is nor where |
come from; don't even es much es
know my own name. My first mem
)ries is Of a woman in New Orleans
Who said she were my mother. |
never believed her; | always hated
her; don't know why as I did, but [
lid. Well, when I were eight years
DID [ run off from her and has never
seed her since. I went from hand
% mouth, from place to place ever
7ince The only name I ever knowed
was Andy, what she called me, and
The boys, cause l alters could turn
my hand to do anything, calls me
Handy Andy. And that's all the
story as / has to tell, for it's all |
knows" "Well, Andy" said Mel
son, truly you have not had much
IF a chance, yet your story interests
ne greatly, for | am in search of a
nan whose story [ do not know, but
who, like you, when a child was in
he care of a woman who was not his
mother. How well she kept her
charge | know not. I'll tell you the
tory in full" he continued, "as you
nave trusted me with yours. Dur
ng the last of the slavery days my
mother was married and gave birth
to baby boy, whom, as she was
hiring out her time, she paid
woman to keep for her. This woman
suddenly disappeared one night, tax
ing the baby with her She went
South, mother afterwards learned,
but she could not trace her. That
has been just forty years ago. Since
then my mother has married again,
and | am her youngest child by her
last husband. who has but recently
died. He left us well fixed here in
the city of St. Louis. but mother,
who is now quite elderly, still be
means the loss of her first born, and
it was to seek his whereabouts that
| went to New Orleans" 'Did you
find him?" asked Handy, who had
followed the narrative with close at
tention. "No," said Nelson, 81
failed most miserably, and just for
the experience, which I must say I