The Abbeville press and banner. [volume] (Abbeville, S.C.) 1869-1924, 1914-11-04
CHAPTER XII.

verse profanity; Of cutters, and blunt
nose schooners, and tramps, canvas
and steam, some Of them honest, some
of them shady, and some of them pi-
rates Of the first water who did not
find it necessary to hoist aloft the
skull and bones. The seas are dotted
with them. They remind you OF the
once prosperous merchant, u down
at the heel, who sinks along the side
streets, ashamed to meet those he
knew in the past. You never hear
them mentioned in the maritime news,
which is the society column OF the
ships; you know Of their existence
only by the bleached bones Of them,
strewn along the coast.
You who ray adventures on high
seas, you purchase a ticket, a steamer
chair, and a couple of popular novels,
go on board to the blare Of a very
Indifferent BRASS band, and believe you
are adventuring; when, as a matter OF
fact, you are about to spend a dull
week or fortnight on a water hotel,
where the most exciting thing is the
bugle's call to meals or the discovery
of a card sharp in the smoking room.
Take a real ship, 90 as s~upercargo, to
the South seas; take the side streets
Of the ocean, and learn what it a
do with hurricanes ,typhoons, blister
ing Gains, and mems souls. There will
be adventure enough then. If you are
a weakling, either you are made
strong, or you die.
An honest ship, but run down at
the heel, rode at anchor in the sound,
a fourth-rater Of the hooker breed;
that is, her principal line Of business
was hauling barges up and down the
coast. When she could not pick up
enough barges to make 1t pay, why,
she'd go ~gallivanting down TO Cuba for
bales of tobacco or ven to the Ber-
mudas for the heaven smelling onion.
Today she was an onion ship; which
precludes any idea Of adventure. She
was about four thousand tons, and her
engines were sternward and not
amidship. She carried two masts and
a half dozen hoist booms, and the only
visible sign of anything new on her
was her bowsprit. This was new doubt
less because she had poked her nose
too far into her last slip.
Her crew was orderly and tractable.
There were shore drunks, to be sure,
because they were sailors; but they
were at work. They moved about
briskly, for they were on the point Of
sailing for the Bahamas-perhaps for
more onions. Presently the windlass
creaked and shrilled, and the blobby
links, much in need of tar paint, red
as fish gills, clattered down into the
bow. Sometimes they painted the
chain as it came over; but paint WINS
costly, and this was done only when
the anchor threatened to stay on the
bottom.
There was a sailor among this crew,
and he went by the name Of Steve
Blossom; and he was n Of his kind. A
grimy dime novel protruded rakishly
from his hip pocket, and his right
cheek was swollen as with the tooth
ache, due, probably, to a generous
"chaw" Of Seaman's Delight. He was
a real tobacco chewer, for he rarely
spat. He was as peaceful as a back
water bay in summer; non-argumenta'
tive and passive, he stood his watch
In fair weather and foul.
No one gave the anchor any more
attention after it came to rest. The
great city over the way was fairy-like
in its haziness and softened lines. 1t
was the poetry Of angles, OF shafts
and spars of stone; and Steve Bios
som, having a moment to himself,
leaned against the rail and stared re-
gretfully. He had been generously
drunk the night before, and 1t was a
pleasant recollection. Chance led his
glance to trail down the cutwater. His
neck stretched from his collar like a
turtles from its shell.
well, I'll be hornswoggled!" he
murmured, shifting his cud from star
board to port.
Caught on the fuke Of the anchor
was the strangest looking box he had
ever laid Eyes on. There were leather
and steel bands and diamond-shaped
ivory and mother Of pearl, and it hung
jauntily on the point Of the rusty luke.
Anybody would be hornswoggled to
glimpse such a droll jest Of fate. On
the 1uke Of the old mudhook, by a
hair, you might say. In all the wild
sea yarns he h. ever read or heard
there was nothi s to match this.
Treasure!
And Steve was destined never to be
passive again. His first impulse was
to call his companions; his second i'm
pulse was to say nothing at all, and
wait for an opportunity to get the box
to his bunk without being detected.
Treasure! Diamonds and rubies and
pearls and old Spanish gold; all hang
ing to the fuke Of the anchor.
"Hornswoggled!" in a kind Of awe
some whisper this time. IAN we
! aheadin' for tn Bahamas" For under
his feet he could hear the rhythm Of
engines. "What'll I do? II l leave 1t,
some one else'll see it." He scratched
his chin perplexedly; and the cud went
back to s~tarboard. 81 got it,"
He took off his coat and carefully
! dropped it down over the mysterious
box. 1t was growing darker and dark
, or all the time, and shortly neither