The Washburn times. [volume] (Washburn, Wis.) 1896-1976, 1916-12-28

erlnS tongues OF INDUSTRIOUS DIutcs
gone mad. Deep down in her the old
engines clanked and wheezed. while
McArdle, the engineer, scratched his
head obviously as he watched their
spasmodic 1aborings. "And while by
the grace of the Lord they may last
the trip out, sometimes misdoubt it, y
he muttered. "FOr at any minute are
they liable to fly to flinders like the
wond'rus old one-horse shay"
And fly to pieces they did. With
the report of a gun connecting pin
snapped asunder, and the next instant
it's rod had damned, while with the roar
| of q cannon a cylinder head went
crashing through a bulkhead. In an
| instant the engine room was deluged
with live vapor, but with one thrust
of his arm the engineer shut off the
steam and half fainting from his scalds
went working his way forward be-
tween seas to the bridge where Cap
tain Travers was clinging in smother
of spume. "And it's gone to glory they
have, SIR" he reported, with deaths
head grin. Gray of face, Travers point
ed to the bar of Madre de la Laguna
with it's spouting foam few miles
under their lee.
'"Then so have we along with them.
Our anchor will never hold on this
bottom, and Wen all eat Christmas
dinner tomorrow in Davy Jones' lock-
err" Reverently McArdle drew small
cross from his pocket, kissed it and
replaced it while the captain looked on
silently.
ct will take a bigger cross than
that to save u.s." he announced
grimly. The engineer straighted his
pain-twisted face.
'That may be, sir. Yet big and
small, that same token has saved
many a man and it's my belief it will
save many another. Leastwise, It's
our only hope" Down to his own
cabin he went creeping in search Of
oil and bandages.
All night long the Crescent, plung-
ing backward against her restraining
cable as a wild horse bucks against its
tether dragged the anchor closer and
closer to the seething bar where she
must break her back, casting them all
into a seething pot, where neither man
nor boat could survive a minute. At
dawn of Christmas morning, with de-
structiOn but an hour away, Captain
Travers summoned his men before
him. He pointed an OminOuS finger at
the roaring bar now but a cables
length away.
''My friends" said he. "In an hour
from now it will all be over. This
will be our last Christmas day. We
have but little time in which to say
our last words. Therefore, what shall
they Beg" From somewhere among
the despairing dozen the hoarse voice
of the engineer arose in croaking at
tempt at song.
"TO the cross I cling" One by
one they joined their voices in a
ragged accompaniment of chorus that
was torn from their lips by the hurri-
cane to be lost in the veil of the surf
upon the bar. And as their last words
ceased there came a mighty tug upon
the cable as if some giant of the
depths inconceivably vast had seized
the anchor and was holding the ship
fast against the drift And as they
saw that it dragged no more they
looked at each other, first in amaze
ment, then with the joy of men
snatched from the very jaws Of death
by miracle.
"The anchor has found it's grip and
is holding" they told each other. But
that such good fortune could long con-
tinue each had but little faith.
Yet "a hours later when the sea
had Gained they still found themselves
riding in safety. Then they gave the
steam winch full power and gradually
the anchor came to the surface, still
holding in its grip the object which
it had found and fastened itself to so
desperately. And as the crew burning
with curiosity bent over the rail to
gaze upon the mysterious thing which
had preserved them, and which foot
| by foot was being dragged from it's
bed of sand, they saw rising through
| the waters in the anchors grip great
object blackened and incrusted by the
waters of the sea, monStrous iron
cross such as it might take 40 strong
| men to carry.
| Copyright, 1916. Western Newspaper Union !