The Saint Paul globe., 1903-12-13
By
ALBERT
SONNICHS.
ABLE
SEAMAN



ence upon the people who live
on their shores. The cold northern
seas rise in slow and ponderous wrath.
pounding and growing and roaring,
giving full warning of the coming
fight Such is, also, the temperament
Of northern races. But the sunny
equatorial seas, shinmering in tropical
beauty, are ever uncertain of temper,
treacherous, quick to smite when least
expected. A flash of anger a whirl of
destruction, and all is over. Again the
waters smile, ripping and tapping the
dead. Beware of their insidious
beauty; beneath the limpid blue turks
destruction and death.
Such is the impression gained in
five years of sailing over many seas,
, from the icy North Atlantic to the
balmy Bay of Bengal.
The old wooden bark Don AdoIfo
was we'll known on the Pacific coast
IN the early days. She sailed under
Nicaraguan colors for several rea-
sons. First, she hailed primarily from
COrintO; second she was too un-
BeawOrthy ever to be registered in-a any
American port. Her former South
American owners sold her to old
Bischard, of San Francisco, at a low
price, and were pleased to be rid of
her. When 1 Joined her as an appren-
tice she was fitting out for a trip to
Western Australia with a load of Ium-
Der, and was manned by as mixed a
crew of ocean vagabonds as ever SAIL
ed a ship of doubtful reputation
Surprise was universal when her
safe arrival off the Swan river was re-
ported, but it was in that smiling
tropical harbOr that she nearly met
her end, and that is just what 1 am
going to tell about. How that old
bundle of timbers ever staggered
across the big Pacific without more
mishap than the loss of half her rig
ging remains an unsolved mystery
Who will say that the sea has no pity?
The harbOr of Freemantle is broad
and long and partly open to the sea.
Only Shippers island breaks the long,
Oily swells rolling in from the Indian
ocean outside. Within the water is
one broad expanse of shimmering blue
SO clear that in sailing over it the
lime-white corals on the bottom.
fathoms deep, seem covered only by
an azure mist. All around stretch
forth srwith baby rollers, children of
the booming breakers pounding the
jagged reefs outside.
Here it was that the old Don Adolfo
was anchored, after discharging her
eTrire cargo on lighters inside the
brealxWater, far out from shore, with
plenty Of space in which to swing
about her anchor, 1t is an important
point to remember that her hold was
cT7OfV gVpaT0t clean from fOra. To
T6at was bad; her skipper should
have known better. In a few days,
Though, the loading with Yarra iron
wood would begin, and make a cargo
requiring no ballast under it.
F was a beautiful night, not quite
clear, for overhead the indigo sky was
splotched. by inky smears of Vapor.
Still, as 1 have said, it was fine night,
end SO warm that all hands fingered
on deck, loath to turn into the sitting
hunks below. The moon, too low on
the seaward horizon, seemed unde-
cided about retiring into a vague black
cloud bank on the outward edge. A
long streak of black crossed the satel-
lite's red face like a fantastic mus
tache Its quivering reflection seemed
like a path, along which marched. col
umns of fiery helmeted troops jostling
and struggling in eager hurry,
It's a blasted fine night" said the
second mate, mopping his bare fore
head with a bandana handkerchief,
"but We can't always tell what'n turn
up before morning in these regions" /"
The mate was hanging limp over the
poop rail, like a wet towel
You'd kick anyhow" he groWled.
What you want is to sail under a
glass case"
The second mate and I were Sc
verely testing with our combined