The enterprise. [volume] (Harlem, Mont.) 1899-1926, 1912-11-28
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down to the sea in ships? Will he not rather
give to the tales of strange things seen
and believed by saiorfollz?
1t is the writer's pleasure to waste time sailing
the sea in a small craft, usually alone Upon one
OF these voyages, having anchored upon the edge
OF the More Sands, he awoke in the middle of the
night to find himself enshrouded by thick fog
eere enough, the uninitiated reader will doubtless
think. Upon looking out at the black woolly
wall of fog that surrounded him, he distinctly
heard his own name hailed across the water.
No other craft near This struck him as be-
ing so peculiar that he mentioned it to a friend
when he arrived at one of the little anchorages,
and the skipper of barge, CHANGING to overhear,
said: That's the OF gentleman of the More!
Often of foggy nights ye may ear i'm a-yelling
aht IN kind o 'elpless way, but sometimes is
language is something horful. They say as e
was a first mate wot dropped overheard and
swan to the sands, where e walked about until
the tide rose an drownded i'm"
Upon another occasion was sailing along the
coast of France, under the cliffs upon which
stands Girls Nez lighthouse, which is about the
most powerful light in the world. It was very
dark night, and the revolving rays of the light
house kept flashing upon the sails of my boat,
lighting them like powerful searchlight until
proceeding along the course got out of their
range. The strange effect had been forgotten,
only to be remembered in time to prevent me
from becoming firm believer in ghosts There
out at sea ghostly ship was sailing; she was
rather too modern perhaps, to be real ghost
for every sail set like glove-ghost ships were
never particular in this respect-indeed she was
one Of those fine ships out of Glasgow which are
the last words in sailing craft.
From apparently nowhere ship had come
ship uncannily glowing with unnatural light
Her sails surely cobwebs and her ropes
were spider strings!
Strange sights and sounds frequently come the
way of seafarers.
The grovelling kissing sea, breaking through
the night. Its appearance is CHASTITY gray; it
comes from nowhere, 1t fades away soon after
What could not the Imagination weave it into?
Shape or sound Of spirits chased by the Evil One,
the dying wife with arms outstretched, or sound
of mothers voice. Moreover, such messages as
sea sounds give have frequently come from the
dead; the howl Of the raging gale, or the MUIR
muir of the gentle breeze through the halyards,
have borne the departing message in words that
exactly those the lost one whispered last
To the mind of one who knows the sea, it
would seem strange that sailors are not more
superstitious than they are, and there are GER
tainly many reasonable excuses for their belief
in such stories as that of the Flying Dutchman
A patch of swirlng vapor through the rigging OF
his ship upon a dark night. Imagination does
the rest; he has seen the Flying Dutchman.
Cornelius Vanderdecken, a Dutch navigator Of
long ago, was making passage from Batavia.
For days and days he encountered heavy gales
and battling head winds while trying to round the
Cape of Good Hope. Struggle against the winds
as he would, he lost as much on one tack as he
gained upon the other. Struggling vainly for
nine hopeless weeks, he ultimately found himself
in the same position as he in at first the
ship having made no progress Vanderdecken,
in fit of wrath. threw himself on his knees