The Bon Homme County independent. [volume] (Tabor, S.D.) 1904-1913, 1907-07-04


as well, and IL you give me another
ounce. OF bother I'll take you none Of
you never get another berth so long
as the universe holds water 70 carry
shipping. You cowardly hounds! oh,
| you trust me-"
The men skunk back into the alley
/ way again out of shot of the skipper 8
! tongue, and the engineers, plucking up
courase first, led the way below. Some
i one clattered a shovel on a firebar.
| Instinct made tine trimmers obey the
| signal and they went to the bunkers.
| The firemen followed and the steam
gauge remounted before it had received
any appreciable check 1t was all an
affair OF Ave minutes.
| Kettle passed forefinger around the
inside of his shirt collar and strolled
across with Cambel to where the deck
chairs straddled In the shade.
They're holy crew, aren't they?"
said the master OF the Port Edes.
Il think they're what we want. We
should be rather out OF 1t with a plucky
lot who insisted on standing by US
at a pinch" ..
"Oh, don't you make any error about
that" replied Kettle. They'd have
been shaky anyway, but this bogus
clockwork devil of yours fixes them to
a nicely. TN be every Jack for him
self when the scare comes, and Davy
Jones takes the steamer and the 9TH
ers. oh, they'll run like warren Of
rabbits. The brutesl" H..
Kettle broke off abruptly and stared
moodily over the gulf stream. A flying
fish got out of the blue water and ran
across the ripples like a silver rat. A
school OF porpoises snorted leisurely
up from astern and passed the steamer
as though she had been at anchor. And
the tangles of gulf weed floated past
like reefs OF tawny coral.
do you ever read poetry?" the skip
per suddenly asked. a...
Cambel slowed round his head and
stared. The idea of this vinegar
mouthed little savage talking Of poetry
very nearly made him break into wild
laughter. With an effort he steadied
his face and said quietly, Sometimes"
'I'm glad of that. Somehow / hadn't
dared ask you before, but now ! know,
Mr.. Cambel, / like you all the better.
1t gives us something In common we
can talk about without being ashamed.
We can't very well discuss the other
matter which binds us together and
respect ourselves at the same time"
quite right. You and i, captain, are
shouldered to common piracy by the
force OF circumstances, but / always
kick myself when / think about 1t.
There's no glamour of romance about
our intended villaihyt or the, way it's
being led up to-"
MOT a bit. Byron wrote about
piracy, but Byron was no seaman, and
he didn't know what hazing q crew
meant. A thief's dirty scoundrel all
the world over and always has been,
and a sea thief, having the scum of the
earth to handle, has to make himself
the cruelest brute on earth II he wants
to succeed. think it's that which put
me out OF liking with Byron and all
UFtff n hntNf
movement at sea. They give wrong
idea of mems motives and actions, and
when they get talking on shop they're
that inaccurate and absurd they make
one tired. No, Mr.. Cambel, give me a
land poet, who talks about farms and
primroses and tinkling brooks and
things he understands, and with that
man can sit through two watches on
end. Reading him may make me feel
low, but 1t doesn't do man harm to
be that way sometimes. You see, Mr..
Cambel, scuffie or a row with a
mutinous crew Is just meat and drink
to me. Yes, sir, that's the kind OF
brute / am"
They chatted and basked during the
rest Of the afternoon, while the two
mates off watch painted ironwork. and
the crew off duty grumbled and smoked
and slept in the stuffy forecastle. The
cabin tea came. Kettle at the head Of
the table preserved a sour silence and
Cambel and the mates among them a
strained civility. And then skipper and
supernumerary officer returned to their
canvas beside the fiddle on the bridge
deck.
The gulf stream rippled over the
steamers wake astern, and the small
wavelets of calm licked the yellow
rust stains which patched her sweeping
flank. Before them the narrow sea was
al 80 n I,,II
The bright hot day had faded, the
brilliant cobalt had filtered away from
overhead. and a silver nail pairing of
moon peered from a sky of amorphous
violet, still lighted in it's higher flats
by the suns afterglow. On the horizon
line was what first appeared to be a
steamers smoke, but what the glass
showed to be the reek of a fire on the
invisible low lying Florida coast. No
blaze glow could be seen. 1t might be
a fishers campfire on an outlying key;
IL might be a game driving of Seminole
Indians beyond the explored coast
fringe, in that unknown tangle of trees
and grasses and lagoons, the Ever
glades themselves er. H..
TITS worth living, Mr.. Cambel, times
like these" said Kettle when they had
sat there in silence till the warm night
had spread all over and the white stars
were beginning to show In multitudes
through its gaps.
The other nodded, sucking at his cold
pipe,
"None of those poets have ever put
all this down on paper. They've got
parts, bits. but not all. I fancy II is
because they haven't seen the thing
for themselves. I've tried II myself,
but l haven't made much account of
It,"
.. (continued Next WesI<.)
Don'ts for Chicago Women.