The Dolores star., 1919-10-31

serted island-Behring's point.
Here We dropped anchor and Char
lie. who had some business ashore,
proposed our landing with him; but
here again our passenger aroused his
suspicions-though Heaven knows
why-by preferring to remain aboard.
"Please let me on" he requested In
his most tOp-lofty English accent. "You
can see for yourself that there's moth
ing Of Understanding but beastly
lot Of niger cabins, and dirty coral
rock that will cut your boots to pieces.
I'd much rather smoke and wait for
you in peace" and, taking out his
case and lighting a cigarette, he
waved 1t gaily to US as we rowed on.
He had certainly been right about
Behring's polnt-Char'ie was absurdly
certain that he had known 1t before,
and had some reason for not landing
for a more forlorn and poverty
stricken foothold of humanity could
hardly be conceived a poor little clus-
Ter of negro cabins, indeed, scram-
bling up from the beach, and with no
streets but craggy pathways In and
out among the gray clinker-like coral.
But 1t was touching to find even
here that, though the whole worldly
goods of the community would scarce
ly have fetched ten dollars, the souls
OF men were still held worth caring
for; for presently we came upon n
pretty little church. with a schoolhouse
near by, while from the roof of an ad-
jacent building we were hailed by
pleasant-faced white man, busy with
some shingling.
1t was the good priest of the little
| place, Father Serapion, disguised In
overalls and the honest CRIME of his
labor; like a true Benedictine, pray
| Ing with his strong and skillful hands.
Father Serapion and Charlie were
old friends, and Charlie took occasion
to confide in him with regard to To-
| bias, and, to his huge delight, discov-
cred that man answering very close
| ly to his description had dropped in
| there with large sponger two days
| before. He had only stopped long
enough to buy rum at the little store
near the landing and had been Off
| again through the blight, sailing west.
| Father Serapion, who knew Charlie
| Webster's shooting ground, promised
to send swift messenger should any
thing further of interest to us come
to his knowledge within the next week
| or so.
Then we sailed away from Behring's
point, due west through the North
blight. Morning found us sailing
through maze Of low-lying desert is
lands Of bewildering sameness of
shape and size. with practically moth
Ing to distinguish one from another.
| We had hoped to reach our camp,
out on the other side Of the island.
that evening, but that lodging the
shoals and sticking in the mud had
considerably delayed us. Besides,
though Charlie and the captain both
hated to admit 1t, we had lost our
way. So night began to fall and, as
there Is no sailing in such waters at
night, we once more cast anchor un-
der gloomy. black shape of land. ex-
ceedingly lonesome and forgotten
looking, which we agreed to call Lit
|
Soon all were asleep except Sailor
and me. I lay awake for long time
watching the square yard of stars that
shone down through the hatch in our
cabin ceiling like little window look
ing into eternity, while the waters lap
ped and Tapped outside, and the night
talked strangely to itself. Next morn
Ing Charlie and the captain were
forced to own up that the island, dis
covered to the day, was not Little
Wood cay. No humiliation goes deep
er with sailing man than having to
ask his way. Besides, who was there
to ask In that solitude2 Doubtless q
cormorant flying overhead knew 1t,
but no one thought to ask him.
However, we were In luck, for, after
sailing about bit, we came upon two
lonely negroes standing up in their
boats and thrusting long poles into the
water. They were sponging-most
melancholy Of occupations-and they
looked forlorn enough In the still
dawn. But they had smile for our
plight. 1t was evidently good Joke
to have mistaken Sapodilla cay for
Little Wood cay. OF course we should
have gone-"so." And 80" we pres
emily went, not without rewarding
them for their information with two
generous drinks Of old Jamaica rum.
One OF our reasons for seeking Lit
tie Wood cay, which 1t proved had
been close all the time, was that 1t Is
one OF the few Gays where one can get
fresh water. Good water here" says
the chart. We wanted to refill some
of our Jars. and so we landed there,
glad to stretch our legs. while old Tom
cooked our breakfast ON the beach, un-
der a sapodilla tree.
Now that we knew where we were,
1t was clear, but by no means careless
sailing to our camp. We were making
for what is known as the Wide Open
loo -