Evening star., 1926-06-20

over the boats gunwale in cataclyEni
of roaring watery spite that Uttered
the sea with bits of timhers and
planking from the ship. The bosr
oars We're Jared. some broken; Bob's
steering sweep was wrenched from
his hands and struck him on the
breast so that he believed his breast
bone was broken.
"One more pun. bullies' Only one
more to get" Bob yelped agoniZngly,
Selling a spare oar and swinging the
boat around once more until it lay
within jumping distance of that tall
dignifled figure still visible I'm the
sputterinS light of the half-drowned
lantern.
Jump. capn, jump. We cant
hold on much longer"
The solitary figure waved a hand
again. shaking his head \ mighty
comher broke 1t surged over the
wreck. Great pieces of oak and stee.
crashed loose and hurtled leeward
When the boat recovered and got
head to sea again. Bob Stafford looked
In vain for wreck or survivor. Both
had vanished. He gulped and yelled
Give way, lads. Can't do any good
here"
- "A fine. outstanding man. moaned
the crippled stroke oar.
"Vent like a saiiorman, anyhow
roared Ike Fergus.
60 course. he did. Pull" snapped
old Bob Stafford.
= =
THERE was a small crowd filing
the shack when the lifeboat
crashed upon the beach the second
and last time. Bob had steered his
first command in. his aching breast
swelling with n sort of humble pride.
Elation might have been there. II
was there at first. when he thought
of the barren years that were his just
because he lacked physical bulk and
the fetish called dignity. Elation died.
and he gladly felt it die; Just because
he had seen a man, possessed Of that
physical importance and dignity, up
hold the tradition of the seafaring
race which says Il man must die with
the ship he loses.
Elation almost came to life again
at thought of John Jrdal, ashore
there. apparently q passenger. or il
might be an owner now, owing life
itself to the man who was too small
to command n ship in a first-class
line. But Bob killed that coming to
life. There was a crippled stroke
oarsman. gaspinE for breath as he
was dragged out of the boat. There
was Ike Fergus. telling everybody
how he had hauled men from the sea.
Bob knew the man spoke only truth.
Every man acted according to his
particular nature.
In the shack a silver haired woman
sat on Bob's bed. John Urdal stood
beside her. his wife. addressing the
villagers in n rather pompous fashion:
My friends, l am a director Of the
company owning the Ladywell. ]
shall see to il that your splendid
courage and unselfish service does not
go unrewarded. My name is John
Urdal. You will hear from me-"
The silver-haired lady whispered a
sweet
Thank you. good people" and lay
back with tired eyes. yet smiling.
People spoke in low tones as they
went out. Everybody there had seen
John Urdal work like a hero in the
surf. dragging men TO shore. though
sorely battered himself. Old Bob Stat
ford wanted to have a word with
John. Something about size. dignity
many things. But somehow the de
sire was not so strong after that last
boat trip. 1t was less strong after
that peep into the shack.
Ike Fergus. proud of his broken
head. talked loudly. now that the Job
was done. He wanted John CTdal to
know of the existence of Ike Fergus.
He casually mentioned the coxswain.
of course. and as carts arrived to
take the rescued people to the near
est town, he made some mention or
the boathouse keeper who had been
quite useful Urdals wife was car
ried to a conveyance. and Urdal got
i'm beside her. But he found time to
look inside the boathouse, trying To
discern somebody who might look
capable of any sort of a lifeboat job.
That was tho chance old Bob Stat
ford once thought he longed for. But
things seemed different. All John
Urdal saw was a little. hent man put
tering about the shattered form of
the lifeboat in the wavering lantern
light: coiIing up lines, Strengthening
up launching planks. going stoutly
about the job so that any possible
emergency that might come soon or
late should not find his part, at least,
undone.
Old Bob Stafford felt proud then.
He had lived his moment. He had to
hurry. because there were little rab-
bits to tend, q poor derelict hen 10
nurse; and his shack must look Ike
the deuce after I'll *hose folks had in
vaded it. He kicked things into place
Voices diminished and ceased ostside.
Along the beach he knew men still
searched for drift from the wreck.
That was their right. They had done
well. Bob took up the burden of his
old fore-bitter, rounding 1t out as he
finished his job:
80 he got eddication. just fit for his
station.
He knew he warn't never too old
for to larn.
And his old shipmates found him.
with young 'uns around him,
All chips of the old block from stem
cl'ar to Starn.'
lCopyrlght. 1880