Yorkville enquirer. [volume] (Yorkville, S.C.) 1855-2006, 1908-09-08
STORIES OF THE SEA.
Reminiscent Fellow Passengers Grow
Interesting.

in his eyes asked.
His companion chewed refectively on
the butt of his half-burned cigar. His
appearance indicated that he was not
of the class who have pennies to drop
in all possible slots Il have often
thought" he said, with a wistful in
tonation, that If person had leisure
and sufficient money he could best en-
ploy it, so far as pure enjoyment goes,
in the purchase or charter of some fine
yacht, and with a congenial party OF
friends spend his time cruising from
one place to another"
That view of pleasure is probably
held by a great number-held by many
to whom the realization is unobtaina-
BILE. 1t probably would not be more
difficult to secure the yacht than for
one in search of enjoyment of this kind
to collect a party Of friends who would
be wholly congenial on an extended
trip. This account Of an eXtemporane-
Gus gathering, which trooped on board
q liner-theirs for the nonce as much
so as any chartered pleasure craft
and which found in each others COM
pany a congeniality which round trip
to far away southern port did not
wear out, seems deserving Of special
mention.
Journeying For the Joy of II.
The vessel was the Creole, the big
new turbine that has been entered in
the coastwise trade, and she was max
ing a voyage to New Orleans with a
complement of travellers who were
making the round trip mainly for the
joy Of 1.-THE going from bleak winter
Of the north to the orange blossoms
and magnolia blooms Of the warm
southland, the sea journey there and
back, the spray, the sea gulls, the fly
ing fish fiickering from the bow, the
porpoises wheeling their shiny bodies
through the blue, the change from
sleet and snow to airs "milk-warm
with breath of spice and bloom" and
the recurrence Of bracing north winds
when the vessel snored her way up the
coast on her homeward journey.
There were many in the party which
set out on this journey a few weeks
ago, and which trooped down the gang
plank Of the Creole one day last week.
The passenger list included many Of
recognized ability as raconteurs, and
where one left off another took on.
Among them was an admiral who had
valiantly fought his ship at Manila
another wearer of the navy blue who
had survived the Maine disaster; one
other to whom the Arctic held no Sc
crets, yet another to whom the South
Sea Islands had revealed their charms.
One knew every one worth knowing in
the literary world; another had bow
ing acquaintance with many in the
newspaper profession. One was an
engineer, practical as one Of his own
blue prints; another was a dreamer,
who forgetting the dinner bell, had
large ideas for the betterment Of man
kind. There were some who had TAX
en- the trip for health, some through
mere curiosity as to what transition
from winter to summer and back to
winter again would be, some just for
the joy Of being care-free throughout
two Kaleidoscope weeks. Disconnect-
ing the wireless, they unwound the
clock and proceeded to enjoy life, care
less of foolish stock markets, forgetful
of panics, unconcerned over politics,
and not caring a whit what congress
did or left undone.
The AnecdotaI Stage.
What for lack Of a better name
might be termed the anecdotal stage
was reached almost before the deep
sea swell was under foot.
This reminds me-" said the naval
militiaman, as he leaned over the rail
and contemplated the horizon, "this re-
minds me Of the time when a friend Of
mine who was a deckhand on the Yam
kee, the old FL Norte of this line, which
the government subsidized at the time
Of the Spanish American war, was
steaming out of this port bound for
Cuba You may recollect that she was
manned by the naval militia Of New
York. l don't know whether you know
any Of the bunch or not, however.
This Yankee was on her way to the
scene Of festivities, regular navy off,
GERS in command and the rest all navy
militia, when the quartermaster re-
ports a sail off the port beam. What
is she like? the officer of the deck asks.
Looks like a steam yacht, SIR the
quartermaster says; can't make out
her name, sir
MY friend the deckhand stops pol
ishing the brass rail he is at work on
for a minute, shades his eyes to take
a good look at the vessel, and then
asks the officer of the deck to let him
take look at her through the glass.
The officer somewhat amused by the
cheek of the deckhand, passes to him
his binoculars.
That's the so and So says my
deckhand friend as he hands the glass
es back How do you know what she
s?' asks the officer man. somewhat
abrupt. I own her, sir says my deck
hand friend, as he resumes polishing
his rail"
1.-The further that little war recedes,'
observed the ex-navy officer who had
been one of the listeners, the more in
teresting appear some Of it's unrecord-
ed episodes. There was one l wit
messed off Havana, and which so far
as know has never appeared in print.
The story is about Captain Nat Ush-
er the officer who is now in command
of the armored cruiser st. Louis. Dur
ing the war he was in command of the
torpedoboat Ericsson. When the fleet
was blockading Havana the torpedo
boats that were attached to the block
aiding force were sent in every night
to lie close to the harbOr entrance, and
see to it that none of the Spanish YES
sells ventured out.
Close Under Morro.
THE Ericsson was on this duty one
black April night, and was wallowing
unseen within pistol shot Of Havana's
MORO Castle, when a powerful search