Ottumwa tri-weekly courier. [volume] (Ottumwa, Iowa) 1903-1916, 1908-10-27

of the Black Deep Sands. Even IN
fair weather the water runs against
them like a mill race, and in a south
easterly gale the sea is veritable
maelstrom of cross currents and
short steep waves So terrible is the
force Of the water at this point that
the buoy is placed quarter Of mile
from the edge. of the sands, so as to
leave wide margin for strangers,
who might easily miscalculate the
strength of the tide. A quarter of a
mile Of deep water lay inside the tiny
twinklinG light, but even that was
none, too much, and never year
passed without dozen wrecks, and a
heavy toll of human lives.
tbs he'll shouted Yardley, Three
times she's missed stays in last hour.
If it weren't for tie money, I'd turn
tail now
You go on" yelled Playle !" faint
moren half mile. You lemme have
the tiller,, I've had huff of this
when we're-round-buo Yard
ley spluttered, as shower of water
drove into his mouth and eyes. He
was determined to stick to his post
till the smack had weathered the
buoy. A clear head was wanted to
steer the boat agai st that wind and
tide. Where every inch had to be
fought for, the course had to be sailed
by brain work as well as by physical
strength. A sail too full or not full
enough meant all the difference be-
tween success or failure. Yardley had
long ceased to huff the boat, as she
heeled over to the blast. He kept her
at it. with her lee rail never out of
the sea. But he dared not trust the
work of Joe Playle, who was already
half drunk, and who had more than
once bungled the mechanical work
that he had to do, when the boat was
put round at the edges of the channel.
'Lemme have tiiler,'' repeated
Playle, crawling on his hands and
knees across the deck. Yardley lifted
his foot, as though to kick the man in
the face. The heavy leather boot,
shod with iron nails, was nasty
weapon, and Playle stopped.
you get back shouted Yardley;
you'll have your turn later on But
you don't touch this ,iller till we're
round the buoy
Playle broke into a torrent of foul
oats, until a flood of foaming water
cholled the words, and carried him
along the deck to Yardley's feet.
You'd best get bel w said Yard
ley: "I'll cast off this safety tackle
and handle the iib sheets myself.
You'll be overheard afore you knows
where you are"
Playle, clinging to the rope at Yard
ley's waist with one hand, raised him
self from the deck, and gripped his
comrade by the arm.
I've mind to make ee leave the til
ler,' he muttered hoarseIy "'Tis my
turn, and there amt a better man
than | in Gor'ven.'
Look here, joe said Yardley
quietly, IF you want this tiller, you'll
have to chuck me overheard"
I've a mind to, I've a good mind
to-"
Then you may as we'll chuck your
self as well. for the Hope and Glory
will be matchwood In ten minutes
I'll wait growled Playle. 81 amt
one to hurt a pal. Get round your
buoy, and then I'll take zee up the
DarlSwater in fine style
Stand by" yelled Yardley. as he
put the boat round, into an inferno Of
white foam.
Piayle sprang to the sheets, and did
h4H work.
We'll do it this time, Joe said
Yardley, as they went plunging off on
the port tack. We'll weather her this
time, and he glanced at the Black
Spit Light, which twinkled well to
leewaN
Ten minutes later the Hope and
Glory tore past tho buoy, with just
four feet to spare.
Coin to gybe?" shouted Playle.
No was the sharp reply, and