The Savannah morning news. (Savannah, Ga.) 1900-current, 1904-12-11
CATCHING THE
CHRISTMAS FISH
PERILS OF THE GRAND BANKS
GAMBLING WITH THE SEA FOR A
HOLD FULL OF SCALES.

6NCAmNnAp INC
Fleet-"Cut in Two in the Dark"
Gale and snow the Battle TO Bring
the DOries Back to the Anchored
Ships-The Race Homeward to
Gloucester, Boston and New York.
BY Julius Muller.
Copyright. 1904. by j. w. Muller)
Twelve days before Christmas, two
hundred miles east by north from
where Cape Sable's house and Flagstaff
look out on the dead mems sea, and
a fieecy fog lying thick and endless
over all of the rolling ocean from one
end of the Grand Bank to the other.
In it, within radius of forty miles.
each invisible to the rest, a fleet of
more than one hundred sail, pitching
to anchor and each one praying for
the gray ghosts of the Bank to dis
solve that they may hurry their work
for the Christmas fare of fish.
'Tink. tink! Sphinx. sphinx! Dong.
dong! Boom, boom!" it rings from
every quarter, from miles away and
close abeam - the hundred warning
cries of the anchored vessels. as each
with bell and horn calls out in deep
sea language, "A fisherman! A fisher
mani" that the speeding steamships.
east and best bound across the foggy
shoals, shall step aside in their flight.
From far away, infinitely far away.
infinitely mournful and infinitely soft,
steals sound where the swirled fog
smokes it's thickest. Fainter than all
the warning bells, softer than all the
snoring horns, it yet draws through
and sounds over them all. Scarcely
note, ere its second comes twice as
loud. Then the third, still louder,
beating with a rush of sound on the
strained ears. Through it and with
1t, heavy, steady pounding, as of a
great pump, painting hard.
With one accord. din rises from the
hidden fleet. Bells cease their slow
tolling and beat madly. Horns blare
above horns as if they were blown in
desperate attempt to shiver the draped
mists.
Steaming Through the Fleet.
But high over all the noises of the
fishing boats, the SloW-drawn sound, a
roar now. hurries fast toward them
its plaintive wall changed TO vast,
formless menace. 1t rushes like the
wind. Straight at the fleet it sweeps.
The pounding is a wild rush and fury
of torn waters now. With il comes
the sharp splitting sound of seas cut
by a flying wedge.
Filling all the world with it's clamor,
its sweeps by unseen, leaving the fish
ing fleet dipping and rolling on both
beams. A few, close to the hasting
terror. catch the sudden swaying of
tattered fog wreaths as the great ship
rips through them. Then they close
in again and,-fast as it had rushed on
us, the noise fades in the mysterious
east.
The hammering bells win their
voices again. Again the horns snore
forth their slow, regular, lingering
warnings-then, suddenly, for a mo-
ment it is as if all the fishing fleet
held its breath. From far away, down
in the whiteness whence comes the
soft, sweet mourning of the fleeing
ships siren, cracks a sharp sound,
echoing clean-cut over the oily sweIls.
over the dories! Over! She's cut
in two!"
Was it the command from our toss
ing craft or from score of others2
The words seemed uttered simultane-
ously from all the quarters of the
compass; and almost at once come the
splash Of oars on every side-all head
ing in the same direction.
Then silence falls again, almost
magically; and again, still farther
away now, steals the soft, sweet wall,
dying, dying.
She never stopped the bloody
murderer" Out Of the fog, super
naturally. floats the voice.
fsWOOdar rvho Tha Nfo~xy
Savage was lying over that way!"
floats another voice, made thin by
dense vaoors and distance.
Waiting for the Unseen.
So, between the measured strokes
Of the bells and the blasts or the
horns, invisible watchers speculate
over fifty fathoms of green water,
and wait for that which they can
not see.
Thicker swirls the fog, and with
every movement of the glistening
deck. new vapors puff and drift in,
till at last men can not sense more
than a blurred outline of the nearest
shoulder of others standing close to
them.
"Dor-e<e-e-e!" rings out, thin and
far off The distant rattle of blocks
answers and then the clatter of a boat
coming down on decks with a run.
"Oh-o-o-o" bellows a voice from
our bows. Did you get a-a-a-ny?"
"N-o-o-o-oi" comes the faint an
swering hail "Ca-a-a-n't even tell
who she was. Found nothin' but some
spars. Looks like a Frenchma-a-An."
"Aho-o-o-yl The Nellie Nu-u-u-
GENT" comes out Of the fog. half
mile away.
"Aho-o-o-y." cries our deck watch.
leaning forward into the thick air. as
men hang over a pits mouth.
Quickly the plash Of oars comes
driving on, straight and true: and IN
a trice our dOries bump alongside our
bobbing quarter and the wet, oilskin-
clad men tumble on deck. There is
no need to ask questions. There are
no strangers with them.
Looks like she was one Of them
fellers from up Miquelon way" says
the captain. shaking himself and flap-
ping his sou-wester to and fro along
the deck. We see a few pieces Of
dory and couple OF sticks out OF her,
and they look like Newfoundland
build. Guess they never had a chance
to swallow after they got hit and
the fellers that done Il went on
without knowing anything about it.
either"
The Deep Sea Funeral Service.
Nothing more IL said. The brown.
strong faces look az each other grim
~ for O moment Then each man
goes ostentatiously about some COM
monplace task and there r. silence on
the vessel. That f. the deeD-sea
Noharr.afasn fst~araf ao~.,f~n ,..... 49,