The midland journal. (Rising Sun, Md.) 1885-1947, 1905-06-23


speed was of necessity checked bun
still she cut the water at rate not
far from fifteen miles an hour. Early
that morning her passengers were
awakened by the ominous, oft-recur-
ring roar of the great steam siren,
warning all lesser craft to beware of
the ocean monster that was approach
ing through the semi-darkness.
At twenty minutes past four Has-
vey Hilton, after quarter-hour o.
quick, unhestitating rowing, guided
by an occasional glance at his COM
pass, which had been placed on the
thwart before him for ready consulta-
ton, took in his oars, threw over
the anchor, baited his hook with a
good sized clam, and dropped his
heavy sinker over the side.
Not four minutes from the time his
line touched the water thirty-pound
cod was Tapping his tail against the
bottom of the dory, and the fisher
mans hook was soon on its way for
another prize forty odd fathoms
down Five minutes later another
handsome fish lay beside the first.
So it went for thirty minutes, as fast
as he could throw out, haul in, gaf
the cod over the dory's side, repaIs
and throw out again. It was the best
fishing he had found in many a day;
and If his good luck continued. he
would be able to load his boat and
row in to the Moonstone long before
any of his mates.
1t was about I've O'Clock when he
first heard the whistle of the Aide
baran far to the eastward, at first
merely a low, hoarse rumble rolling
over the surface of the sea.
Who-o-o-o-ooo! Who-o-o-o-ooo! Hill
ton had heard that sound so many
times before during his years on the
fishing banks that he ordinarily paid
but little attention to it. But some
how this morning it made him feel
uneasy. An unpleasant shiver ran
down his spine as he remembered
one foggy dawn six years back, when
one of those ocean monsters had
passed so close to the stern OF the
schooner that it had splintered her
| main boom. Ugh! He shrugged his
shoulders at the thought, and then
devoted his energies to pulling in
another cod.
No one could tell just where the
steamer would cross the fishing
grounds, and he was as safe in one
place as in another 1t was as well
to take the thing philosophically and
keep on about his business. What
likelihood that the high iron prov
miles away, with the spray feather.
ing aloft on both its sides, was
pointed straight at the fifteen scanty
feet now occupied by the broadside
of his dory!
Nearer and nearer, louder and
louder came the shrek Of the siren.
Who-o-o-o-ooo! Who-o-o-o-ooo! In
the intervals between its discordant
outbursts. faint hollow pippings from
the horns of the scattered dorymen,
with now and then louder peal
from the bell or crank-horn of some
anchored schooner, told that the fleet
was taking the alarm. All feared the
headlong, irretrievable ruin that
might be wrought by that merciless
prov amid the fragile invisible flo
tillas.
The Aldebaran was now fairly upon
the Bank, and rushing across it at
half-speed. Additional looEouts were
stationed forward to give quick warn
ing of any mast or boat they might
spy through the thick mist. Shorter
| and more frequent rose the waiIlng
blasts, of the steam-whistle, while the
dories replied in notes that sounded
low and feeble beside the metallic
roaring of the huge leviathan.
Harvey Hilton's uneasiness had
been increasing as the whistle grew
louder. He stopped fishing sudden v,
leaving heavy cod half pulled in.
and rose to his feet. vainly striving
to pierce the mist in the direction
of the approaching peril. He lifted
his horn to mis- lips and threw all the
strength of his lungs into one warn
ing. appealing blast. But just before
the sound reached the ears of the
liners lookouts, blast from anorner
quarter had caused them to signal
in such a way that the great ship
sheered straight toward Hilton.
The fisherman heard the rushing of
the water before the stem, and knew
just how it would look. even before
he could see it through the fog.
Thrusting the horn into his pocket.
he sprang forward and seized the
anchor-rope. intending to haul his
dory ahead.
In an instant. however. he dropped
the line. convinced of the futility of
his endeavor. 1t was too late now to
attempt to shift his position. Again
he set the horn to his lips and blew
with all his might. Perhaps the
steamer might not touch him. after
all!
Vain hope! A straight, black
knife-sharp edge of steel cleft the