The midland journal. (Rising Sun, Md.) 1885-1947, 1906-10-19

rest of the crew. and that's the last
/ have seen of him. l hear he is on
the Banks, fishing with the Glouces-
ter fleet now. About a year ago his
mother received q letter from him,
with a Boston postmark on the en-
velope."
Halyard stood up and pulled on
his oilskins.
That's the story, Mr.. Burke" he
said, quietly. please don't tell me
what you think of it. I'm going on
deck. You had better turn in"
Just then seaman knocked on the
door and opened it a crack,
"Tickenin' up, sir" he said. DO
sun wants to know if he'll get out de
fog-horns."
"Yes," said the skipper. He pulled
his sou'Yester we'll down on his head,
tied tbs ztrings under his chin, and
followed the sailor. 1 fastened to
my ysrth off the outer cabin, and,
like tne skipper, attired myself in
rough-weather clothes.
When l reached the high deck OF
tlls poop the fog lay over us and
round us, cold and damp. One horn
was being worked on the fo'castle-
head and another on the poop. me
noise was appalling.
That's too much! Make 1t once
in two minutes and alternately!
shouted the skipper to the boat
swain.
AYE, aye, sir" replied the boat
swain, briskly.
Then, aside to me, What d. he
mean by dat?" he asked.
zone at a time-turn and turn
about" 1 whispered.
Halyard and l stood side by side,
with our hands on the windward rail-
and the fog smoking round us. The
old bark pitched to the gray valleys
and climbed again up the gray, un.
stable hills.
mo need of the lead to tell us
we're in soundings,'' I remarked.
Were on the Banks-just on the
edge of them" replied the skipper.
Queer we don't hear a horn or
two in answer to the row we're max
ing" l said, leaning over the iron
rail of the poop and straining my
eyes against the thickening fog.
"Hark!" said the skipper, with
hand on my shoulder. l turned an
attentive ear to the wind.
Don't you catch that?" he asked.
1 shook my head. l could hear
nothing in the lull between the bel
lowings of our horns except the
tumbling of the seas and the COM
planning passage of the ship.
There! Dead to windward!" ex-
claimed Halyard, after minutes 81
lence
This time 1 caught something
hardly more than suggestion of
sound-like faint strain of music.
Then the horns gave tongue again,
like pack of unearthly hounds hunt
ing in the fog.
When their clamor was done, the
skipper glanced at me shyly.
Wasn't it masic?" he asked.
81 am not sure that 1 heard any
thing" I replied.
He had nothing to say to that.
Presently l heard the noise again,
loud enough to be sure of it.
tits an accordion" l said.
See here, MIR. Burke" said Hal
yard, whats a man about, playing
an accordion Off there in the fog?
Is he just amusing himself? Or is
it signal? Or is he trying to keep
up the hearts of himself and his dory
mates?''
THE last two reasons seem likely
enough, sir" l replied. "The playing
sounds pretty weak, too"
Take the port life-boat, Mr.. Burke,
and men from your own watch. Well
lay to-"
l nodded, and started down the lad
der to the main-deck
The port life-boat was soon swung
out and lowered My four men of
Harbor Grace pulled her up to wind
ward with every ounce Of muscle,
from toes to shoulders. in the stroke
I glanced back. The bark doomed
like shadow in the fog.
The waves swelled above US with
dizzy regularity. Now the rowers
were under me. with their red, set
faces turned upward. Now they were
high above me, with all their weight
on their feet. But they pulled as
steady as clockwork, with Bill Dun
can giving them the stroke.
Suddenly the accordion sounded
again, close in front.
Bow-oar turned his head.
Easy, ALL" l cried
A crest of gray sank under our cut
water; and there, in the valley, lay
dory. She was drifting sullenly be-
fore the wind. A figure crouched
astern, steering with a fragment of
OF board. A second figure sat for
ward, feebly closing and expanding a
battered accordion!
The story was plain The dory
mates, fishing from a Banks schoon-
hoor nrobohIxy fo. davis