The Madison journal. (Tallulah, Madison Parish, La.) 1888-current, 1914-03-07


less whose uncouth putterings turn the great
steamship from her path and bring the right girl
in the bargain.
But this is a story Of Swan Island. Despite
the name you would not care to live on Swan
island There are swans. nor are there any
dainty ox-eyed Junos peroxide Junos to marry
the castaway earl.
Swan island lies in the tropics, some hundred
miles of Honduras-if you insist getting out
your atlas-and by common report is the most
forsaken thing in the Caribbean sea- which is
saying much.
1t would be hard to imagine more dreary place
one less suited for the local color to a story
with a thrill. few huts scattered over the
swampy ground some palms, some cocoanut
trees, and the tally is complete all but the wire
less station.
Commerce must be served, and the United
Fruit company has erected on Swan island a lit
tie station that keeps in touch with steamships
passing 500 miles out to The station also
relays messages from Port Lmon Costa RIGA
(see your map AGAIN., over to Jamaica.
Nothing else remains in the summing up Of
Swan island but scorpions. trantulas and a multi
tude of carnivorous insects whose execution would
drive the New Jersey product to envious suicide.
Thither at the close Of a sweltering day In
autumn came a new wireless operator and a visi-
tor. Necessity brought the operator, curiosity
brought the visitor. The same steamship depos-
tied both on the white beach to call a month later
in luck, for after a month alone on Swan
island-that is, alone SO far white companions
are concerned except for single beach comber,"
which is deemed sufficient by the company-men
show the beginnings of line Of selfaddressed
conversation which would not enttle them any
too firmly to the major premise, Man Is a ration
al animal"
Curiosity and scorpions brought the visitor, one
Warren Carew, who hailed from New York and
should have known better. Carew had money
and troops Of friends, picked up in odd parts Of
the globe, but he preferred to list scorpions. He
a naturalist he told the wireless man, and
Keenan,. accustomed to strange men and strange
places, shrugged his shoulders and was glad for
the companionship the naturalist brought
At daylight, before the heat of the sun made
life burden, Carew collected his ugly specimens,
and later he talked with keenan,. who furnished
gossip of the world snatched from the passing
craft. Two weeks passed in desultory fashion,
with morning searches and afternoons looking
over the hot blue sea before and the lagoon be-
hind that lay like a spot Of furnished silver
showing through the scrawny palms
Carew was careless and one morning 1t hap
pened. The lobsterlike claws of the scorpion
nipped and Carew went of balance. The nip
not dangerous, but the sprawl threw him into
line for the stinging tail of the holder of venom
that meant death-death unless heroic measures
were adopted. Whatever else Carew was he
not a coward. The report of keenan, and all in
1ormauon that can De gathered SHOWS ne acted
with Spartan courage but again he careless.
The small spot in the calf of the leg where the
poison entered was barred by him and a common
jackknife brought into play. Quickly Carew cut
at the place, and slashed until there was a free
flow from a wound three inches long. He bound
up the leg with strips of clothing and hobbled
back to his hut.
keenan, saw him and hurried to his assistance.
Carew was made comfortable in a bunk, and
sweltered cheerfully through the afternoon, be-
lievng he had saved himself. Copious doses of
brandy muddled his senses and Keenen returned
to his post There were signs of the swift
death that follows the sting Of the scorpion.