The Republican journal., 1907-01-03
How He Ploted
Christmas Into Port

board, shedding part of the Atlantic
ocean out of the iron like creases OF his
oilskins. Deep below in the sucking
sea at the base of the forty-foot steel
precipice, his little boat slid away on
the toboggan incline of rolling gray
back.
pretty far out, aren't your" asked
the captain of the liner.
eyes, | miSdOubted but what we
mightn't be able to pick you up closer
in. There's fog making fast in the
west. l wish you had come couple
of hours sooner"
"Whew!" said the captain through
his white teeth. 81 knew we were cut
ting it fine-had trouble with the star
board engines all the way across. But
l did hope that we'd get her In before
noon anyway.
The Imperia was Christmas ship
snapped away from England at the last
possible hour, minute and second to de-
liver the last possible belated passenger
and parcel in time for an American
Christmas. Every item on her mani
tests from the tinieSt brown paper
bundle in the lowest hold to each of
the 500 cabin passengers, 1, 200 steerage
and 400 crew, was aboard with one idea
Christmas in New York.
And now all the cunning that made
ship and machinery, all the nerve that
controlled bridge and engine room, were
to be Knocked by little cloud from the
wet pipe of the sea fog man, were they?
Well, not if he knew it! So muttered
the captain.
THE MARK WAS NOT VISIBLE.
But he wasn't really SO sure within
himself, for three points off the star
board bow he should have been able to
see the thin white and black spindle of
the Fire Island light sticking up above
the dip of the broadly undulating At
lantic, sharp as a target on the Blsley
range in an English July afternoon.
Instead blur was there, as it one were
looking into thick glass.
That was the brew of the sea-beauti-
full, flmy, pure, white fog. 1t was SO
far away that only its dainty crest
smoked above the line of sea and sky.
But the 1mperia's manganese bronze
tails were flirting her along at seven
teen knots an hour, despite the occa-
sional coughing fits of the starboard
engine, and before a quarter of that
time had gone the roaring double-fun-
neled castle was driving toward blank
white.
Five knots more and the sea ahead
was shrouded, though her ports still
shot sparkleS back to the morning sun.
Five knots more and the sun passed
from her bows, suddenly.
When the twin screws had turned
again the passengers on deck looked up
in unison 1t was as if d cloud had
passed overhead But the shadow stay
ed.
Before they realized that this was no
passing cloud the world shook to
heart broken wall high overhead. 1t
mourned across the sea, hopeless, the
great ship dreeing her weird through
the mouth of the fog siren.
A clear bell tinkled deep below.
Astern two propellers began to thrash:
The Imperia, gliding no more, pounded
up and down, smashing. She had slow
ed to half speed.
To port something lamented like her,
with agonized sounds forced from over
strained lungs. To starboard something
beloved, angry and quick Where
the land should have been something
screamed, harsh and anxious.
Instantly all the human life of the
ship stirred. From cabins and cafes
and smoking rooms and steerage Gel
lars it poured upward. Fog. Fog! With
port almost in sight and Christmas wait
ing in town.
THE DREADFUL FOG.
Fog, indeed fog that pressed so close
on the sea that the old trick of lowering
a man over the bow to look underneath
it for an open lane was quite in vain;
fog so tall that the lookout on the
crows nest of ner forward mast could
see no farther ahead than could the
men on her decks. Fog that made the
forecastle shadow with outlines, that
blurred the figures of captain and pilot
on the bridge like a wet sponge drawn
over slate; fog that set masts and
stays to drip with runnels of water
everywhere and Wetted down the decks
till they glistened.
Ten knots, pound, pound, pound,
swash, Five knots more, rolling and
mourning, mourning, mourning. Two
knots more, one knot more, and then
It was as if The hidden Sea had spew-
ed up its secret nightmare creatures to.
cry to each other under the veil of the
white darkness. There was long
drawn lamentation, low on the sea.
There was roaring to port and there
was lowing to starboard. Unseen pro-
pellers pulsed. A bell rang, quick and
high, at intervals regular as clock.
FoolcIhlilS COuSH dHu pldSutu udIu
a. cad. A patch of funnel ghosted by,
high up, tearing the gray fog raggedly.
Then came the vague phantom of a
mast, or, rather, sections of it, heeting
past. Then a round red iron stern
swung up for moment and washed
away into nothing, rolling with rattle
and a deluge spilIing from the rudder.
And then there came something
more startling than all the noises.
The ship ceased to tremble. the
steady song from the engine rooms
hushed, the churning aft sighed and ex-
pred Silence, the most startling
thing that can happen suddenly aboard
liner, had fallen. The Christmas ship
stopped
Her anchor chain went smashing
through the hawse holes and her great
bell began to ring, going desperately,
then stopping for a minute, then going
desperately again.
EVERY MAN TO HIS POST.
Like the crew of a man-o'- war, the
ships people sought their posts-the
carpenter with his men at the chain,
ready to knock away and let her run
out should something drive down blind
ly on them from ahead: the chief en-
gineer at the engines, ready to back or
Iii to