The Hope pioneer. [volume] (Hope, N.D.) 1882-1964, 1913-01-09
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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 w~reckage," I OBJ
served, smiling.
Poor devil!" he exclaimed, SYM
pathetically. HE seems more dead
than alive.
He's breathing, SIR" announced
Brandon, the first officer. land not
much more. Well take him below,
and gee what can be done for him,
SIR"
He appeared to be about forty years
of age, a 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 I was far from prepos.
sessed by what of this fellows fea-
lures was on view. Ordinarily I
should have given him scant heed, but
today was no ordinary day, and my
"SAS 0upOAdSl4tC HtOA I11C
most trivial occurrences took on sig
%nificapce. 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 we're common
enough, perhaps, but within the past
week there had been nj 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 f1otsam 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 a 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
lets 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 a sharp watch kept on
the fellow, adding that l would come
to him later for anything he might
learn. l took care, too, to caution him
to make no mention of the affair in
the presence of Cameron.
It was not until after dinner that
evening that I found opportunity again
to question the captain. l 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
gripped firmly between his teeth and
the grateful odor of clean pipe smoke
greeted me as I entered.
Hes come around, Mr.. Clyde" he
informed me, turning about in his
swivel chair, land 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?"
asked, a little obviously.
Quite to a dot, SIR" was his an
swer. There's no breakdown any
where, &c 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 it lost his
bearings. It had clouded over and
after a little it 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 a
time, and just prayed for the fog to
lift and give him a sight of the stars.
And the next thing that happened was
what I suspected, sir. He heard a
steamers whistle. He had his sheet
out and was running before the wind,
and that steamer coming upon him
out of the fog, caught his boom, ripped
out his mast and nearly capsized his
dory. When she righted, the steam
er's lights were fading into the fog
again, his boat was half full of water
and his oars were washed away. Well,
sir, to make a long story short, he
must have caught a current that car
ried him well out beyond Cape Cod,
and then slowed him around the
southermost end Of Nantucket island.
I questioned him about lights and fog
signals, and making due allowance for
his condition, his yarn works out pref
ty straight. He'd been drifting about
for three Gays when we picked him
up and was half dead Of thirst and
hunger. But he's come around better
than might be- expected, and"
And then l interrupted him.
Three days without water?" I ques-
toned.
"And without food. Yes, SIR"
when did he tell you this story?"
about six o'clock, SIR"
could a starving man o that
quickly?"
He might, air." Macleod answered.