The St. Johns herald., 1901-02-09


 and fifty people. There were more than twice that number on board On the other hand, the land was about three miles of, and sandy and protected beach meant safety. But could it be done with that hole in her side? He would try. He changed her course, rang Full speed ahead" and shouted to the mate: ''Go down and shut the for'ard bulkheads, Mir. Jones'"
 The mate ran forward, and with the help of the carpenter tore of part of the hatch covering and sprang to the ladder. As he climbed down young Malcolm peered aimlessly over the hatch.
 Bring down lantern" cried the mate, and Malcolm, galvanized into activity by fear, seized a lantern from the alleyways and clambered down into the hold.
 The mate ran toward the iron door in the bulkhead, which had been left open, and pushed it to.
 "The light here-quick!" And the boy brought it.
 "Blast them!-oh, blast themi" roared the mate. They've put the bolts on the wrong side. In five min- utes we'll all be in kingdom come"
 He stumbled for the ladder, wild with terror. Yes, every one would be drowned, and he, too, with the cruel. cold water sucking him down. He dropped the lantern and began to pull himself up the ladder.
 Suddenly he stopped. An idea had been born in his brain; hideous, un- thinkable thought-the door could be closed from the other side. He hung Imply on the ladder, and in his mind ragged tornado of conflict.
 Oh, to be out of this awful ship, safe once again at home! But the mate had said that all were lost. That meant him, too. And if only that door were shut, all could be saved. Great beads of sweat broke out on his forehead. He groaned and writhed about like one on the rack. Then he began to descend slowly. He stopped again on the last rung. He clung to the ladder as 6 drowning man to a rope. He could never let go. Why was he not going up the ladder? There were boats left. He had seen that. He could fight for a place, and be saved He was so young; not old, like the mate and captain. They must give him place.
 All at once he loosened his hold and ran blindly for the door. On the way he tripped and fell heavily on his hands and face, cutting and bruising them. He lay half stunned for minute, moaning from the pain, then raised himself and crawled the rest of the way. He passed through the door. and with feverish haste shot the great iron bolts. The boy was alone in his tomb. He leaned against the bulkhead, sick. sick to death. Why had he done this? He did not know. They would be saved now, but he-Oi God. no more light or life for himl His poor dry lips moved con- vulsively, and his hands beat aimless- ly on the iron wall. He would go back. Hope returned with a rush. He would die in the open-with others around him. It would be good to die thus, not in this hell of darkness and desolateness. He unshot one bolt and fumbled for the other. Then, with low moan, he cast himself from it, driving his teeth into his lips in his agony.
 It was not to be. He was too great 8 coward to live. He could only die. He would pray. But he could think of nothing-nothing but the "This night when lie down to sleep" he had learned at his mothers knee.
 To sleep-oh, he would sleep longI There wns to be no waking this time.
 Long shuddering fits shook his frame as he felt the icy fingers of death rising inch by inch. He screamed and raved, flashing his head against the iron. that death might come quickly. He plunged beneath the water, only to come up again, fighting madly for life. Then there was a long drawn sob, and then si- lence.
 The captain stood on the bridge,