Americus times-recorder. [volume] (Americus, Ga.) 1891-current, 1924-06-02

every available man would be need
ed in the work Of rescue, and par
ticularly great-muscled, "scookem",
fellows, such as he had observed
Big Chris to be. At his command
one of his meager crew pushed off
in the boat, rowed in swift, sure
strokes to the shore.
Big Chris was standing ready to
jump in, but he paused for one in
slant. rs dar nobody else in dis
village wort taking?" he asked.
"No. The storekeeper's a Grip
pie, but Lord, he'll be mad. There's
only one other white man in the
village, and that's the Remittance
Man. Get in"
It did not occur to either Of them
that they should take natives on
this rescue trip. This was a white
mans job, and it would take the
white mans steel of heart. And
they would not even go to see
about the Remittance Man. Surely
he was too lost to manhood and
self-respeet to be Of any aid in this
nights work.
But they were suddenly brought
up sharp in their work of pushing
off by a voice in the darkness be-
hind them. "Wait a second, you
fellows" the voice said. 1t was alb
rupt, almost commanding in tone,
and there was the sound of hurry
ing feet in the snow. 81 want to
60"
Even his irremediable disgrace
a disgrace that the northern men
guessed at, but never knew in full
had not destroyed a certain quail
lty of charm in the Remittance
Mans voice. 1t was rich, full bari
tone, and it had an irrepressible
boyish quality, a frankness and
open-heartedness that appealed III
stinctively even to these hard-fisted
men of the North. The Remittance
Man was from "the States" and
the particular section of which he
was native could usually be recog-
nized by his accent: a softening Of
had consonants and mellowing Of
vowels that is indigenous to the
country south of the Mason-Dixon
line. The two men in the boat
heard no thick speech to show his
drunkenness.
In an instant his great breadth
pushed between them. The two men
tried to probe the dusk to see his
face.
"Are you sober?" the man from
the Jupiter asked bluntly.
"Not entirely" was the answer.
Sober as l ever am. I'll be as sober
as saint by the time we get out to
that sinking ship"
"Then pile in. Push off, Larson"
! In moment more all three were
aboard the Jupiter, the powerful,
rugged engines had begun to rum
Bile, and the launch was struggling
out to sea.
Captain jim, at the wheel, steer
ed straight out until he was com
paratively out of danger of close
lying reefs and shadows, then turn
ed east.
He was northern man, and the
love Of the sea was in the fiber of
his being; but there was no joy to-
night in this battle under the STAR
studded welkin He found himself
wishing that he was like that unex-
pected passenger, the Remittance
Man, too near drunk really to un-
derstand. He had a deep feeling
against going on-not fear, but
rather secret knowledge that he
could not trace-and yet he could
/ not turn back. It was not in him
; to turn the wheel and steer back to
The harbor when those yollow rock
cts signaled for help. The laws of
the sea are few and old, but they
hold liken iron shackles. 1t was
not that he went on against his will:
that he could not, if he had SO de-
sired, find excuses to turn back.
Men obey the sea laws through
love, not through hate; and it was
simply part Of him, and part Of all
the sea breed that he represented
to push on in answer to that signal
IN the darkness. But he wondered
that the Remittance Man should
voluntarily choose to come.
He turned to Big Chris Larson.
mostly a stranger to him but vet
one of his own hard-sailing breed.
Are you sailor?" he asked.
The man stood up from the
bunk where he had been bracing
"Yas, sir" he answered, with in
stinctive respect. 81 sal in VIM
yammers for ten year"
There's no reason we shouldn't
and that little mainsail will helm to
spread her canvas. The winds fair