Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1929-04-28

rockets In their black tin box In the
bottom drawer of the chart table. and he
carried them out on deck, huggtng them
under his arm.
The tin firing socket was still dashed
to the davit, where the second mate
and the fourth had been standing only
a few moments before. Easy to insert
a stick. jerk the cap from the bottom
of the rocket-tube and strike the sand
papered outside of 1t to the prepared
igniting substance that took the place
of touch-paper in these rockets. his
own body sheltered 1t from the spray.
wf1oosfl! Golden red streams
up.-far up-to the very scud. 1t SEEM
ed. before the stars burst forth to be
wind -dfS wen and scattered. Were
they alone In all that great ocean.
The boats must be picked up before
the dawn. The glass was down, down
Dropping steadily. Another gale max
ing. The moan Of it was IN the vino
already.
Whooshl A string of fire thin. grow
ing, widening. stars again! She was
sliding all the time. A matter OF
minutes, that was all. It was getting
bitterly cold Brave days on tne
old Themistocles. The shouting NIGHTS
aloft with the feel Of hard, wind
driven canvas in your fingers. Yarn
ing in the dog watches. Where was
Capt Howe? Blond bearded, blue
eyed. with his rough wooden jersey and
his leather boots; with his voice like
the boom of surf and his quaint WOODEN
cap with the tassel on his shoulder?
Had he another cabin boy now? Some
one small and seasick, to run back and
forth to the galley. to wash decks, to
help with the sails? So long ago!
And brave days all Of them. Brave
| days. But braVeSt of all those days
On the little Caradoc tramping up and
down the lonely coast, into the great
rivers. from tiny port to tiny port. His
very first ship. First ship for the boy
out Of Stayanger. Where was she now?
| Tramping somewhere still? They
| to pieces. All, the good old times. the
| good old times. Whooshi It was hard
| to protect them from the spray.
The AMMAN Prince now, sinking fast
Thirty thousand tons and turbine
| driven. No rats. No cockroaches. No
| yellow Lascars and drunken mates. And
| sinking. sinking! It was long way
| from Stavanger to west of F1nisterre
| and sailors grave. He would 60 out
as others had gone. Brandon lost
with his EMPRESS Of Rome IN the St
| Lawrence. Robins with his Cistertan
in the Blight Of Benin. Fire, collision
and wreck took most of them In time
Shipmates and masters And. If you
had the four gold bands, you had to
see it through. -.
A MOTHER sea swept the boat-decb
- and flung the solitary nutterine
man against the bridge-companiOn
Under one arm he clutched the thin
rocket-box. the other he flung tight
round one of the companion steps. Ths
water swept over him, buffeted him
He hung on grin1ly. half drowned but
afire within. and sad with memories
And through them. beating them down
beating of the aching desire to relax
to let CO. rose the insistent demand
more rockets
Somewhere in all that wide sea ther'
were other ships, there were lookotits
Some one far of might sight the break
ing stars high In the dark. in the scud
above the rim of the world The boat
must be picked up before dawn. Tn
glass was down. down. A gale brewing
He was responsible. Captain! HI
rocked UP. coughing. spat salt from hi
mouth. The water almost swpet hin
down as it poured back of the slantfni
deck. He stumbled to the davit, huns