Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1912-01-07


thought. something like ships deck cut
fiat to the waters edge with the ragged can
vas Tapping, and something like an over
grown cheesebox, painted black.
"What's in the turret box::' she thought,
idly curious, and rowed close.
| The two white faced men ran to catch the
boat. THANK Heaven you've GOMEZ the
young officer painted. Dripping in shirt and
| trousers he was like the other man, their
clothes in ribbons. "The windage of that
second shot ripped the clothes from us, he
said, boyishly abashed at sight of the sun
| burnt woman in the boat "A little closer,
and-well, miss is as good as a mile.
"We're none of us overdecked-don't
apologize!" said Mother Carey dryly. She
turnbled in the oars, making place for them.
1Be careful now-the boats small! I'm not
so light as was. What's gone of We ladso
Fighting an looking to Heaven she cried.
@1he battleship's firing
| dts not the battleship we're afraid of:
she's done firing. The mist fooled her.
"An' high time too! What then?' The
| lad looked like Archie-she was glad she
came!
ats the aeroplane!' The officer whipped
out a watch, shook the wet from it, and put
| it to his ear. @Jump, Jack' he cried to the
sailor any watch is stopped! Heavens,
Madam! there's no time to explain!" he cried
| to the woman's blank stare. 1--WE came out
| to mark the shots and watch the aeroplane's
bombs She's launched from the deck of the
| ship by this time-making head on for u.s.
| The sailor scrambled into the boat, Selling
| the oars.
"Havers!' said Mother Carey, reverting
to the language of her youth. "A feckless
| flyin' ship bombardin us-an' a battleship
bent on murder! The chickens was right
| there was trouble due"
@From sea and air!' the boy said grimly.
| @Our launch is out there. The aviators
can't tell whether she's bottom up or we're
in her-a couple of thousand feet up. Now,
| if you know, We'll get out, and leave the
| trouble to the hens in the turret, as you
say" The officer crawled aboard, balanc-
ing the boat. "Shove off, .Jack!' he ordered.
"Pull anywhere, before we're blown to bits
| by the bombs!'
STOP a bit!' The dinghy held fast
Mother Carey's strong grasp on the
raft. While the officer talked she had sat in
a daze, heart fluttering to get away herself.
But his last words had spoiled it. 3Hens in
the turret!"
She had heard that. Now, she knew what
that big black box was-like a giants hat
box, or an overgrown cheesebox that Ships
Bottom burnt in breeches buoy flare on the
beach. A model of warship's turret, that
was, with real hens in it: not "sea Chickens
as she called the gulls, but barnyard hens,
put in there to try the effect of "concusson,'
so the officer said. And they were going to
try this terrible new engine of destruction
on the poor things chickens that. she had
yearned to have whole yard full of-maybe
Shanghais or Cochin Chinas-
3Bide bit!' said Mother Carey. you'll
not lombard the poor hens, airship or no
airship!'
She was out of the boat before they could
stop her, and on her knees beside the black
iron thing. She heard the hens cackling in
side, with no thought of their doom. The
frantic men followed her; but she fought
them off. @Help if you Will she painted.
"'Tis sooner done. But leave this place I'll
not till every living thing is off it,
OF her own terrible danger she gave no
thought she was sailor enough to
know what the officer said was true. The
bomb dropping aeroplane, far up in the
mist, might easily mistake the shape of the
bottom-up launch and never see the living
specks on the raft; just as the warship,
firing on the second by the watches of the
gunners and target tenders, had doubtless
mistaken one boat for the other-on day
when all Barnegat folk would be holiday