Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1904-02-13
CHAPTER XVI.
Gods greatest sarcasm was when he
put a thirsty man afoat upon salt
water.-The Log Book of The Lyddy.


There was something unexpected, SO
startling, uncanny both in the fact that
the captain could speak and in the strange.
unnatural voice in which the words were
uttered that Parton, dazed as he by
the dreadful happenings of the past few
hours. and heart-sick as he was because of
this last trick which fate had played him,
almost cried out in his amazement and
surprise; but restrained himself, even in the
excitement of the emergency, fearing the
effect upon the captain. \ ripple from the
swell upon which they were being slowly
lifted caught him as his lips were parted,
and what he had intended to say became a
helpless splutter. The captains eyes were
turned in his direction.
II amt all right yet, Mr.. Parton" he
said. Just you do the thinkin' and I'll
keep quiet for a while. Am 1 tight dashed
on?
That's good" said the captain, with the
queer voice growing a little faint. That's
good, because - am - agoin' to faint
away"
Which, by the expression and color of the
face that Parton saw as the swell lifted
him, moment later, he knew that he had
done.
Once In while, as Parton padded
energetically he felt was safe. consider
ing the undoubted necessity for outstanding
his strength, he felt certain that he could
hear half-smothered mutterings from the
grating to which the old sailor was dashed;
, but he was careful not to reply to them for
fear that he would thus consume what little
strength he had left, and he was becoming
unplea sanity conscious how that little was
growing aIarmngly less with the lapse of
time.
1t was not very long before he found that
he must begin Systematically to force his
mind away from his present distress If he
ui oh cd To kaan biS hodv mupt
reflection brought into his fingers an al
| most uncomfortable tendency to loose their
hold on the frail support which was within
| their grasp.
There were moments when he felt con-
WINGED that this would not be so bad
| plan; but before he yielded TO their temp
| tation, he invariably considered the old
| man who was bound there upon the graf
| ing and who certain to perish in his
| helplessness If he. Parton. did not keep
/ courage. The fact that that same loss Of
| courage would bring his own death did
! not seem important to him.
He locsened one set of stiffened fingers
| after the other, and gazed with salt-blurred
| eyes at them.
| His hands were wrinkled by the sea as
| a laundress are wrinkled by her suds
| Then, suddenly, he realized that he was
| thirsty
! He had been attacked by the worst of all
I the many enemies that might seek to de-
| stroy him there at sea.
The fatigue which made his every bone
| and muscle cry out with pain for repose
| which he knew was utterly impossible was
| nothing. The continually increasing cold
/ which was creeping upward from his feet
| was nothing. The dangers that the winds
| might rise and that the swells on which
| he rose and fell so easily would be capped
| by overwhelming, beating, sitting crests of
| broken sea and foam We're nothing. The
| indefinite longing for solid food was moth
| ing.
| But the thirst for fresh water-as he
l there that tllnnifahla lfQllf6
| wilderness of salt-was everything!
| He tried to thrust the thought of thirst
! away; but he could not From time to time
traces of ocean brine found their way