The Kenna record. (Kenna, Roosevelt County, N.M.) 190?-1924, 1912-12-27

a Whir Of flung line; an exchange Of
quick-spoken, and to me uaintelligible,
words between the sailor in the dory
and sailor standing beside me on
the yachts deck; and then, the line
was taut and straining. and the dory,
which had sheered off astern, was be-
ing brought up slowly alongside.
Now, realized for the first time
that our engines had stopped and that,
save for the roll, we were almost sta
tionary.
They were lifting the fisherman
aboard when Cameron, at length
aroused by the unusual, strolled for
ward and joined me.
There's your bit of wreckage," OBJ.
served, smiling.
Poor devill" he exclaimed, SYM
pathetically. HE seems more dead
than alive.
He's breathing, SIR" announced
Brandon, the first officer, "and not
much more. Wen take him below,
and see what can be done for him,
SIR"
He appeared to be about forty years
of age, somewhat shrunken, wealth
er-beaten creature, with face deeply
lined and half hidden behind possibly
a weeks growth Of dark beard 1t is
not easy to read a man with his eyes
closed, but / was far from prepos-
sessed by what Of this fellows fea-
lures was on view. Ordinarily
should have given him scant heed, but
today was no ordinary day, and my
suspicious were superactive. Even the
most trivial occurrences took on sig
nificaDce. And this was not a trivial
occurrence. Certainly it was not
usual. Fishermen blown to sea in
storms and overcome by exposure,
hunger and thirst were common
enough, perhaps, but within the past
week there had been no storm; the
weather had been as mild as that Of
June, with an August day or two
thrown in. How was it possible, then,
for this bit Of flotsam to have come
where 1t was and In the condition it
was?
To Cameron l gave no hint Of my
reasoning, but to Captain Macleod l
put the question without hesitation.
ut does seem bit odd, Mr. Clyde"
he returned, judicially. but you see
his mast and sail had gone by the
board and his oars, too. 1t looks to
me, sir, as if he'd been run down, may
be, and nigh swamped. OF course we
can't tell till he gets his senses and
let's us know
Though this put the matter in a
new light, it did not by any means re-
lieve my anxiety; and l asked Mac
Leod to have sharp watch kept on
the fellow, adding that would come
to him later for anything he might
learn. took care, too, to caution him
to make no mention Of the affair in
the presence Of Cameron.
1t was not until after dinner that
evening that found opportunity again
to question the captain. came upon
him in his stateroom, a comfortably
commodious cabin, far forward on the
upper deck. On his table was spread
a chart, over which he was bending
when l entered. A briarwood was
the grateful odor of clean pipe smoke
greeted me as l entered
Hes come around, Mr.. Clyde" he
informed me, turning about in his
swivel chair, "and I'm just trying to
check up some of his statements by
means of this chart here, and our
weather record"
"And how do they check so far?"
l asked. little obviously.
Quite to a sir" was his an
swer. There's no breakdown any
where, so far. According to his story,
he sailed out Of Gloucester harbor on
Monday morning His names Peter
Johnson, and he lives in East Glouces-
ter. He says the wind was strong from
the westward, and he made the banks
all right without mishap. But about
noon, the wind died, and a thick fog
came in from the northeast, chill and
sopping, sir. He kept moving about,
and finally in the thick Of 1t lost his
bearings. 1t had clouded over and
after a little 1t began to rain. He
made a try for Gloucester harbor, but
must have sailed southeast instead Of
northwest Then the night came
down, and the fog was like a dozen
blankets, he says. His food was gone
and most Of his water, but he said
he'd seen worse than that many
time, and just prayed for the fog to
lift and give him sight of the stars.
And the next thing that happened was
what / suspected, sir. He heard
steamers whistle. He had his sheet
out and was running before the wind,