Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1903-12-26

Written for The Evening Star by Albert sonnich-
sen, Able Seaman.
Men who do not value the lives of others
often value their own highly enough But
this rule seldom works the other way. The
reckless daredevil vagabond who butts
about the world into all sorts Of dangers
and acquires a sort of contempt of the
various forms of death he often faces be-
gins, after awhile, to believe that every one
else shares his attitude of mind toward
what he considers at the worst only a
slight Fastening of the inevitable.
Such man is the average sailor. He
has no family, and his more distant kindred
are only vague personalities of whom he
has only vague knowledge. 1t is family
ties that cause men to fear death.
If half his shipmates washed over
board in a storm, Jack Is depressed for the
time being, but a month later, when he
reaches port, he is quite apt to give his ac-
count of the incident in humorous vein.
"Yed "a larfed,'' he says, in the course
of his tale, IF ye'd a seen the way Tim
Hogan was a hangin' on to the END oil the
topsail brace, like blessed herrin' hooked
on the end of a line. Then, when he
couldn't hold on no longer, he just gives
tremendous wriggle, like he'd swallowed
the bait an it was tastin pretty good, an
off he swims like he was lookin' for more,
an that was the larst we sees of Bill.
AS a matter of fact Jack did not laugh
at the time of the accident. His COMPARE
ii
of a rope to a hooked fish never entered his
head until he spun his yarn. Time has
given him that attitude toward form Oh
death so common that 1t may be his any
day. When his turn comes he will not
laugh. but If his ghost survives him it will
probably give an account to the other
ghosts of Its entrance into the spirit world
In an equally humorous vein.
If you were to consult the log of the
American bark Southern Cross about eight
years back you would come across an entry
like this:
''Chief Mate Hardy disappeared in the
middle watch. Supposed to have fallen
overheard while examining the log"
Such an entry is common in ships logs,
and 1t might not excite much interest In the
average shore-abiding citizen, but in the
maritime world there some to whom
this would recall memories of strange
personality-Happy Steve.
How Happy Steve was connected with
the drowning of the mate of the Southern
Cross will develop later. First of all, let
me say few words of the mate.
1 will hide Dick Hardy's identity under
his real name; nobody but few ship own
know him by that He has an aged
mother living somewhere up in Maine, and
for her sake 1t is better to let his past rest.
Let 1t suffice to say that under an alias
something, but not quite, like Black Jack,
he was known the world over one of the
blacklist scoundrels that ever trod a deck.
You could hear tales of his heroic brutali-
ties from Frisco to Calcutta. In his day
boarding masters had to drug sailors before
they could ship them on the Southern
Cross-she was hard packet. Today l be-
Neve, she is reckoned one of the most COM
Portable in the American merchant marine.
1t was aboard the ship that I made my
first trip to sea that first heard Of Hardy
and while l have listened to innumerable
tales of him since, and have even related
some of his exploits myself, that introduce
tory knowledge of him will always remain.
with me distinct impression. For 1 was
present when the first authentic account of
his death was given out by the one man
who knew.
This was aboard the old Nicaraguan bark
Don Adolfo." She had aboard crew of
hardy, reckless West Coast Adventures
most of whom were on the West Coast be-
cause 1t was not particularly healthy for
them to be anywhere else. Not that they
were really bad lot, but. as / have already
said. they were of that class who had &C
quired an attitude toward human life not
compatible with the laws of more civilized
parts.
One of the men was chap called Happy
Steve. 1t was his optimistic temperament
that had given him his name. Come what
would, hard weather. topsails to reef,
leaky ship to pump, or, In fine weather,
decks TO holystone. boats to scour with sand
and canvas, Steve always accepted these
hardships with a jolly smile, while his ship
mates looked black and swore. Steve could
swear, too, but he did 1t in such humor-
Gus way that the foul words on his lips lost
their worst significance. Even when he had
a growl with the captain 1t usually ended
demand.
Usually an optimist is not a favorite In
ships forecastle. but Steve could give every
thing such humorous turn that his ship
mates would laugh in spite of themselves
During the second dog watch he kept the
men in q continuous roar of laughter with
his tales of past exploits. Happy Steve told
many stories but there was one that beat
them all.
We had passed the doldrums and were
well down Into the southeast trades, where
the steady breeze made it seldom necessary
to pull rope or to touch sail. In that re-
spect il was almost like steamboating Our
dog watches were never disturbed, and ev-
cry mans artistic ability as a story teller
was IN full demand
One evening the conversation turned to
hard-case Yankee packets. of ships where
men take and give blows with deadly intent
Each man told of the bucko mates he had
known, and as almost every one had known
Dick Hardy or Black Jack. he and his mys-
terious fate became the principal subject for
discussion.
HE was a bad un" commented Kanaka
Joe. darkly; blessed If he waren't. I've
known hard-case mates. but most of EN-
was on the square In a fight Black Jack
warent he was mucker; he'd hit a
man when he was down.
You bet" agreed another man; drown
in was too good fer him. He should a
been ham strung first, then hung by his
arms in the main chains an then billed in
pot o tar"
Here each man gave his idea of a fitting
end for Black Jack, and some were quite
ingenious. That is. all did so except
Happy Steve; he only laughed immoder-
ately as each man presented his method.
Come, Steve" said Kanaka Joe, how
would you have him cooked?'
Steve laughed uproariously, while his
mates grnned In anticipation of par
ticularly funny account of an imaginary
death for Black Jack. But Steve's laugh
ter increased his face was red with sup
pressed merriment.
Come. Steve" said cockney sailor,
encouragtngly, let's ave the joke; don t
be a-keepin' IT all to yerself"
why, We blessed galoots," chortled
Steve at last, II could tell We a story of
Black Jack as would make yer eyes
water. Here you chaps is q talkin' of
Black Jack, with me here as could tell
yer more about him than any man livin'."
And Steve shook with keen appreciation
of the humor of IT.
well. we blarsted ass. why don't you
tell us?" suggested the cockneY.
WELL" painted Steve between spasms,
"seein as how / am with a crowd as can
appreciate the funny side of good story,
am goin' to oblige yez
''Ye see, fellers, I was bos'n's mate Of