Evening star., 1926-06-20
THE JOB cA,ra% usrm 11,clr


for his own chance. But he was not
smiling when command was to be
given out. and Urdal secured it. Had
it been only that, Bob Stafford might
still have found heart to smile, for
Urdal had secured his masters
ticket while Bob had not. Bob still
| lacked the necessary experience as
actual first mate at sea, although he
held the certificate. Urdal had got that
! berth instead, but surely Bob's time
must come when John Ur ial rose to
command. The smile became bitter
when yet another man was promoted
to be chief officer in Urdals place,
while Bob Stafford was left standing
still as second mate. He had pre-
sented himself before the great man
who gave out captaincies, who might
make or break Il man.
| Your turn will come, Mr.. Stafford"
he was told suavely. There will be
promotion in the smaller ships soon,
no doubt. For our first-class ships"
But l have served in your first
class ships all my time, SIR" Bob had
! interrupted angrily.
| The great man smiled in a queer
| fashion at that. and delivered himself
! Of the final statement that. broke a
thoroughly good young sailorman.
You are not big enough man, Mr..
!
! the presence. Our ships carry many
| passengers of Importance. Our COM
manders must carry themselves with
dignity. You will do well TO leave
! your career in our hands. We are
not unmindfuI of faithful service"
Even at 65 years of age Bob
Stafford could recall every word and
gesture of that interview. He re-
membered the look on the great mans
q r ri
And you, sir, would do well to
see to it that your fine commanders
of presence and dignity have soafIe-
thing else with which to guarantee
the safety of your ships. Seaman
ship and navigation have been known
to prove useful. when even dignity
and presence fell short in a pinch"
Sometimes q feeling of triumph
went with that memory. But it
rarely lived long. There were the
long, fruitless years that had followed
the dismissal as inevitably as the dis
missal followed the retort. There was
the memory Of failure; of ship after
ship tried, of man after man going
over his head. of hearing yet again
that scorching explanation when he
protested:
Not big enough. Our commanders
must have dignity, presence"
sisting in the fine first-class ships.
He might have risen to command in
ships OF lesser Importance. But what
man of pride would descend in the
scales? Rather he would have It
known that he retired from the sea
to accept a shore position.
He lay wakeful in his bed that
night. At the base of the head
land to the westward the surf had be-
gun to thunder before sunset.
Bob got up and dressed. A glance
outside showed him little but blackened
flying scud and cleaning sea-crests.
The sand whispered under the tread
OF mighty surf. Above the headland
lantern glimmered. Somebody up
there was wakeful, too.
The door opened and the coxswain
of the lifeboat dripped in. He swung
wet sou'wester and sat on the sea-
chest as Bob pulled on his sea-boots
over the heavy socks and took down
r lighted lantern from hook.
BLOWN up dirty" the coxswain
said.
Bob Stafford grunted in reply, added
something about going to take a look
at the boat in its shed and tramped
ont of the shack. Spindrift was flying
thick. Sand flew. sea roared up
the beach, unbroken in it's course, and
surGed. seaweed-laden. across the
launching ways to burst against the
boathouse. It swirled about Bob
waist deep, hurling him crashing
against the door. His lantern was
held high instinctively. and did not
go out. Two more men staggered
down to the shack. They entered
Bob's cozy quarters. while the owner
puttered about the boat, carefully
looking to lines and oars, sails and
short spars.
"Allus on the job. hey. old feller?"
one OF the boatmen roared.
Bob didn't like that man very we'll.
Ike Fergus was q good man in a. boat,
brave as a lion. cool and powerful
but he was too free with his hands,
his tongue and that boisterous laugh.
He whacked old Bob on the back as
ne hailed him. laughing emptily, "Ha.
ha har.'
Old Bob scowled and half turned
upon Ike. but thought better Of the
impulse and hung up his lantern.
He lighted his pipe, sat on his sea-
chest and silently listened to the low
toned talk. Only likes voice rose
high. He could no more help that
than the storm could help bowling
outside.
Nasty sea rolling in from tn