The Savannah morning news. (Savannah, Ga.) 1900-current, 1902-05-11

1heIe are no condluOnS, so write at
| once.
For sale in Savannah by Lipprnan
Drug Co and Solomons Co.
that tug gave me the shivers. It was
| CHASTITY to think they hadn't been
handled for maybe more than 800 years,
! an that the beggars who strained
| them were lynn down below with
mighty little on but their bones; but
when it came to rippen off the rotten
canvas, that was ghastler still. 1 give
you my word it was like strppin' the
dead, an even now there are times
when l lie awake O. nights that
| can hear the soft rastle O. the rip O.
| the stuff, an when 1 hear it the skin
of my back creeps an I go cold down
the spine.
There was grating, under the can
vas, and glass under the grating, all
covered thick with woolly soft dust
like you get in the corners O. your
pockets. The glass an grating were
| both set in frame, but the wood had
shrunk with the heat. 1t stick a bit.
| but no more than was natural, an
rather as if somethin' was suckin' at
the glass. The edges seemed free
enough an, except for the suckin'
back, it lifted out as easy as say
Knife A bar of iron, still pretty
light from end to end, hOldin' the back
o. the frame in place. Laying the
glazed grating down on the deck. we
| looked inside.
An that said Cap'n Towson,
breaking off suddenly, "all that is
nothin'-at least, no more than any
man might come across in five years
cruisin' over Gods waters; but what
came after was queer, mighty queer,
that I'll admit.
What with the portfolios an the
open skylight, an the sun blazing
above, the cabin was as plain to be
seen as the palm O. your hand My
word! but it was spick an span. OF
course, there was the rattle of odds
and ends lynn round loose, for l take
it sailormen We're just sailormen 300
years ago, an had their easy going
ways much as they have now but
| there warn't no dust to speak of. l
tell you, Mr. Ward, that took my
breath. All these years o. travel an
no dust to show for them! Why, you
can't leave a cuddy a week but you
could write your name on the chair
backs. Yes, that bothered me; but
what bothered me worse was to see a
slim, queershaped bottle standin' on
end on the table right under my nose,
an half full o. some brownish stuff.
Now, what business had a bottle to be
end up after Jogging half round the
world, an rocked by Heaven only
knows what gales O wind? A slim,
crank thing it was, too. We don't
have the like of it nowadays, an
mores the pity it got broke. An what
business had the liquor dryin' up?
That. as Clark would say ratified me,
an small wonder. 1t was a creepy
thing to come on all of a sudden, an
/ in such a ghost of a craft, but there
! "a
was a tin platter, bright enough, so
bright I'd say a cloth had wiped it
the day before an on the platter was
a lump O. ships bread. 1t was like
nothin' in the way O. hard tuck l ever
saw, but ships bread it was, an no
mistake. l tell you that staggered
me. The bottle maybe was fixed
somehow, an the platter maybe was
fixed; but what fixed a lump O. crusty,
slippy hard tuck all these hundred
years, an the hulk driftin', driftin',
through, who knows whot rastle an
tumble of seas?
Il don't know that Clark or Brady
took notice. | reckon they were hunt
in after the heaps o. clothes Irish had
seen through the port. an when l saw
them peerin' an stretchin' their necks
l quit ShiVerin' an followed their
wake. Nor were the bundles far to
seek. Three O. them there were, all
the length but twice the girth O. a
common man, so that when Clark
said Ice for the fourth time. I guess
he was about right. You can bet IL
knows how to freeze south of so de-
greesi
"They were punched in a heap by
the cuddy door. an must have had
three suits apiece on them, an with
great heavy cloaks. The door was
fast shut, an | could see a thick bar
ia
beyond the posts, as if to stand against
hard pressure.
Is For bears an such vermin, says
Clark, who caught my eye, I guess
them three was all that was left O. the
ships crew. an so good people was
scarce. The rest was in Kingdom
Come
Il reckon he was about right, but 1
didn't answer. l was tryin to puzzle
it out for myself, an the way
they lay told a tale. They
were all head-on to the door;
they were all fiat on their faces
with their arms stretched out. an their
fingers clawin' at the floor. That meant
they were making a bolt for the open
when somethin dropped them in their
tracks, dropped them sudden an drop
ped them sure. Just so, but what?
What? That's what l asked myself,
an maybe the answer was that one
held what looked like crumple O pa
per in his hand-whitey yellow it was:
an on the floor a foot or two from
their big boots. was a mash O bluey
gray stuff. That there stuck in the
frame was the biggest mossel left, the
rest was stamped into grit. They had
no hats on; maybe they'd rolled off
when they tumbled. an their hair was
longer than was common, even for an
old-time sailorman; but their ears
peeped through the wisps, an the shape
o them. an the shape o their hands.
was as plump an good as if they were
havin' no more than a dogs snooze till
the bo'sun whistled. l said as much to
Clark.
'Bo'sun? says he; I guess Davy
Jones was the last bo'sun that piped
them to quarters. Tell you what, Tow
son; sec that bluey grit there, an
what's in the chaps hand? I'll lay a
dollar they picked up somethin' in the
ice that scared them 70 death. an IL
was in that smashed grit
Maybe no was right. In my own |