Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1913-09-21

the obstructing main shrouds, the skipper
twined himself, arms and legs, in the rig
ging. Downey's lungs were a seething cal
dron OF fire, his jaws tightly clenched Draw
ing back his right arm, he put all his ebbing
strength into the blow, and the writhing
figure shot away.
Downey had vague impression of the
gray blur going up through the waters, and,
without line himself he tried to spring
upward from the deck. Then, with the sud-
denness OF kindly hand wiping away all
memory and misery, he felt himself falling,
deep, deep, down into the darkness and the
void. In handing the little skipper his life
he had given his own in exchange-and all
was we'll!
TIP in the lifeboat dozen pallid- faced
men hauled up wriggling form on the
end Of the lifeline.
cried a knowed something happened when
that diving bell broke loose!'
"Gone? Him gomez With a spring Of
panther Long Johnson landed on the up
heaved schooner's wallowing in the
water now-and began beating with his bare
fists on the boards. Big Casco was tearing
off his clothes; but Little Welsh beat him
to it, diving on the end of the lifeline he tore
from the unconscious skipper.
They hauled the gunner back, gasping
and sobblng. At the same instant the wreck
lurched and sank, sending up great bubble,
with booming sound.
That's his getaway gun, Welsh Sobbed.
"There's fearful current down there, swep'
him away. He's gone to Davy Jones'
Hes gone to old Cap'n Davy, an now
he'll never wear his medal" Casco said. ut
was this little runt that drowned him too!'
the Captain said, glowering down at the
schoonermaster, who was just coming round
and looked pitifully at him from the bottom
Of the boat. "By George Wash n ton! you'll
pay for this days job" Casco roared. "Here
We are, whining about some crazy current
that drawed you on them rocks, and We
didn't 60 wreck the ships delib rit, like we
saw you! And drowned man worth two
dozen Of ye-"
WHO says he did, Jem Casco?"
Like men who saw ghost, or heard
one, the life savers sprang up, white faced
and staring. The voice-the very faint and
feeble voice of Surfman Dalrymple Downey,
who ought to be dead and drowned good
ten minutes before!
1t came from the rocks of the Gridiron,
and across the slippery, sea-washed reef
crawled the apparition of Surfman Downey,
battered and bruised as to face and form,
DuI wearing q S1Illle Ol triumph ana COIIl-
plete satisfaction as he gazed down on the
dazed men in the boat. Skipper Smith rose
up with a shrek of terror.
"Calm yourself, Cappy! | should think
you'd be used to havin me rise up out of the
depths. Ye didn't think any old lumber
craft like that was going to get me, did you,
Boys?' Downey said. "And let me tell you,
Jern Casco, old Caps right about that cur
rent down there that can pull a deep laden
schooner off her course. Course, Skipper
shaved the reef pretty close, to get caught,
and it wasn't exactly current. There's a
regular submarine river down there, where
the Susan went, that has washed channel
right under the Gridiron. | guess | ought
to know Downey said, as shout of under
standing went up from the crew. II just
been washed through that Gridiron tunnel
myself-not a purpose Downey hastily
confessed, as he climbed painfully down into
the lifeboat, where the men had to feel him
over to be sure he was alive, "but the cur
rent caught me as | was coming up, like it
washed the diving bell away. So went on
through-like that wreckage of Cap'n
Smiths other Susan, that was found on the
wrong side of the Gridiron. Anyhow, we
can tell the Inspector now what's at the bot
tom of those wrecks he's been griling us for.
I'm awful cold! Gimme a coat, Jem, till
we get ashore
n -