The citizen-Republican. (Scotland, Bon Homme County, S.D.) 1???-19??, 1907-07-04

ounce Of bother I'll take you none o
you never get another berth SO ION
as the universe old water to carr,
shipping. You cowardly hounds! OH
you trust me"
The men skunk back into the alley
way again out of shot of the skipper
tongue, and the engineers, plucklng vi
COURAGE first, led the way below. Some
one clattered a shovel on a hrebar
Instinct made the m OBEY IN
signal and they went to the bunkers
The firemen followed and the steam
gauge remounted before it a received
any appreciable check. 1t was all al
affair OF five minutes.
Kettle passed a forefinger around the
inside Of his shirt collar and strolled
across with Cambel to where the deck
chairs s~traddled in the shade.
They're a 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 it with a plucky
lot who insisted on standing by ia
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 xes them to
a nicely. It'll be every Jack for him
self when the scare comes, and DaNy
Jones takes the steamer and the 9TH
ers. oh. they'll run like a warren of
TdDDltS. Inc DruleS!
Kettle broke off abruptly and stared
modify 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 ~porpotses snorted leisurely
UP from astern and passed the steamer
as though she had been at anchor. And
the tangles of gulf weed tloated past
like reefs of tawny coral.
DO vol aver read poetry" he skip
per suddenly asked.
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"
dared ask you before, but now l know,
Mr.. Cambel, 7 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 l, captain. are
shouldered to common piracy by the
force of circumstances, but l always
kick myself when l think about it.
There's no glamour of about
our intended v~illainy or the way it's
being led up to-"
Not a bit. Byron wrote about
piracy. but Byron was no seaman, and
he didn't know what hazing a crew
meant. A thiefs a 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 if he wants
to succeed. I think it's that which put
me out OF liking with Byron all
at sea. They give a wrong
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
poet, who talks about farms and
primroses and tinkIing brooks and
things he understands, and with that
man can sit through two watches on
end. Reading him MAJ make me feel
but it doesn't do a man harm to
be that way sometimes. You see, Mr..
Cambel, a scuffle or a row with a
crew is just meat and drink
to me. Yes. sir. that's the kind Of
brute I am"
They chatted and basked during the
rest or the afternoon, while the two
off watch painted ironwork. and
the crew off duty grumbled and smoked
and slept in the stuffy f~orecastIe. The
cabin tea came. Kettle at the head Of
The table preserved a sour silence. and
and the mates among them a
civility. And hen skipper and
supernurnerary officer returned to their
canvas beside the fiddle on the bridge
leck.
The gulf stream rfppled over the
steamers wake astern, and the small
of a calm licked the yellow
'ust stains which patched her sweeping
tank. Before them the narrow sea was
he color of a dull b1u rooffng slate.
fhe bright hot day had faded. the
cobalt had filtered away from
n a silver nail pairing of
noon peered from a sky of amorphous
Tfolet. still lighted in its higher fats
~ the suns afterglow. On the horizon
was what first appeared to be a
smoke, but what the glass
moved to be the reek of a fire on the
low lying Florida coast. No
glow could be seen. It might be
sher's campfire On an outlying key:
might be a game driving OF Seminole
indians beyond the explored coast
ringe. in that unknown tangle of trees
md grasses and lagoons, the Ever
themselves.
IT'S worth living, Mr.. Cambel. times
ike these" said Kettle when they had
at there in silence till the warm night
lad spread all over m the white stars
beginning to show in multitrdea
through its gaps.
The other nodded, sucking at his cold
,ipe.
None OF those poets have ever n,,f
this down on paper. They've got
'arts, bits. but not all. I fancy II ia
because they haven't seen the thing
or themselves. I've tried it myself
tut l haven't made much account 81
~ e a,J Al>-I 49,, .9H.$sIl