The Pulaskian., 1919-10-31

serted tSland-Behring' 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 off" he requested in his most top-lofty English accent. You can see for yourself that there's noth- ing of interest-nothing but beastly | lot of nigger cabins, and dirty coral rock that will cut your boots to pieces. l I'd much rather smoke and wait for you in peace;" and, taking out his case and lighting a cigarette, he waved it gaily to us as we rowed off.
 He had certainly been right about Behring's point-Charlie was absurdly certain that he had known it before, and had some reason for not landing for a more forlorn and poverty stricken f0othold 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 it 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 l for; for presently we came upon 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.
 It was the good priest of the little place, Father Serapion, disguised in overalls and the honest grime of his labor; like a true Benedictine, pray ing with his strong and skillful hands.
 Father Serapin and Charlie were old friends, and Charlie took occasion to confide in him with regard to To- | bias, and, to his huge delight, diseov- cred that a man answering very close ly to his description had dropped in there with a 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 l to send swift messenger should any thing further of interest to us come to his knowledge within the next week or so.
 I
 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 a bewildering sameness of shape and size, with practically noth- 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 it, 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 tie Wood cay"-till morning.
 Soon all were asleep except Sailor and me. I lay awake for a long time watching the square yard of stars that shone down through the hatch in our cabin ceiling like a 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 CT with a sailing man than having to ask his way. Besides, who was there cormorant flying overhead knew it, 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 a smile for our plight. It was evidently a good joke to have mistaken Sapodilla cay for Little Wood cay. Of course we should have gone-"so." And "so' we pres ently 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 it proved had been close all the time, was that it is one of the few cays 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- l dap rndilIo fran