DERELICT.

Bruce Herald, Volume XXXX, Issue 46, 14 June 1903, Page 2

DERELICT.

5» CHAPTER I. On the 25th of May, 1887, I sat alone upon the deck oi th,e Sparhawk, a threemasted schooner, built, according to a description in the. cabin, at. Saclcport, Me. I was not only alone on the deck, but 1 was alone on the ship. The Sparhawk was a "derelict;" that is, if a vessel with a man on board of her can be said to be totally abandoned. I had now been on board the schooner for eight days. How long before that she had been drifting about at the mercy of the winds and currents I. did not then know, but I discovered afterv.ard that during. a cyclone early in April bhc had been abandoned by her entire crew, :md had since been reported five times < o the hydrographlc office of the Navy Oepartment in Washington and her positions and probable courses duly :narked on the pilot chart. She had now become one of that little lleet abandoned at sea for one cause or another and floating about this way and that as the wild winds blew or the ocean currents ran. Voyaging without purpose, as if manned by the spirits of ignorant landsmen, sometimes . backward and forward over comparatively small ocean spaces, and sometimes drifting for many months and over thousands of miles, these derelicts form at night and in fog one of the dangers most to be feared by those who sail upon the sea. As I said before, 1 came on board the abandoned Sparhawk on the 17th. of May and very glad indeed was I to get my feet again on solid planking. Three days previously the small steamer Thespia, from Havana to New York, on which I h#d been a passenger, had been burned at sea and' all on board had left her in the boats. What became of the other boats I do not know, but the one in which I found myself in company with five other men, all Cuban cigar-makers, was nearly upset by a heavy wave during the second night we were and we were all thrown into the sea. As none of the Cubans could swim they were all lost, but I succeeded in reaching the boat, which, had righted itself, though half full of water. There was nothing in the boat but two oars which, had not slipped out of their rowlocks, a leather scoop which had been tied to a thwart, and the aforementioned water. Before morning I had nearly baled out the boat, and fortunate it was for me that up to the time of the upset we had Had enough to eat and drink, for otherwise I should not have had strength for that work and what followed. Not long after daybreak I sighted the Sparhawk, and immediately began to make such signals as I could. The vessel appeared to be but a few miles distant and I could not determine whether she was approaching me or going away from me. I could see no sign that my signals had been noticed and began frantically to row towards her. After a quarter of an hour of violent exertion I did not appear to bo much nearer to her, but, observing her more closely, I could see, even with my landsman's eyes, that

I w'AS TTATT.kD FROM THE STEAMER. something was\the;j matter with her. Portions of her -mast* aril rigging were -one ana one large Ballot her stern appeared to be fluttering fc the wind. But iti mattered not t\ me whab had happened to her, she w# a ship afloat and I must reach her, jTired, hungry and thirsty, I rowed anc] rowed, but it was not until Hmg^tta noon that I - reacted her. She-must lave been much ' further from me than I tad supposed. With a great deal of frouble I managed to clamber on beard, and found; thevship deserted: I had suspected that this would be the caie, for as I had drawn near 7 would- hafe-seen sign that my appw»"<* wfl noticed had i y" -\\ ■ i

oeivei*. T?ufc I found food and water, and when I was no longer hungry or thirsty I threw myself in a arid slept until the sun was high* the next day. I had now been on this derelict vessel for eight days. Why she had been deserted and left to her fate I was not seaman enough to know. It is true that her masts and rigging were in a doleful condition, but she did not appear to be leaking, and rode well upon the sea. There was plenty of food and water on board, and comfortable accommodations. I afterwards learned that during the terrible cyclone which had overtaken her she had been 6n her beam ends for an hour before the crew left her in the boats. • -• For the first day or two of my sojourn on. the Sparhawk 1 was as happy as a man Gould be under the circumstances. I thought myself to be perfectly safe ■ and believed it could not be long before T would be picked up. Of course I did not know my latitude and longitude, but I felt sure that the part of the At- : lan tic in which I was must "be frequently crossed by steamers and other vessels. About the fourth day I began to fsel uneasy. I had seen but three sails, and these had taken no notice of the signal which I had 1 hung as high in tho inizzenmast as I had dared to climb. -It was indeed no wonder that the signal had attracted no attention among the fluttering shreds of sails about it. I believe that one ship must have approached quite near me. I had been below some time looking over the books in the captain's room, and when I came on deck I saw the stern of the ship, perhaps a mile or two distant, and sailing away. Of course my shouts and wavings were of no avail. She had probably recognized the derelict Sparhawk and had made a note of her present position in order to report it to the hydrographic office. The weather had been fair for the most part of the time, the sea moderate]y smooth, and when the wind was strong the great sail on the mizzen-mast, which remained hoisted and which I bad tightened up a little, acted after the manner of the long end of a weathervano and kept the ship's head to the sea. Thus it will be seen that I was not in a bad plight, but although I appreciated this I grew more and more troubled and uneasy. For several days I had not seen a sail, and if I should see one how could I- attract attention? Tt must be that the condition of the vessel indicated, that there was no one on board. Had I known that the Sparhawk was alrealy entered upon the list of derelicts t should have been, hopeless indeed. At first I hung out a lantern as a night signal, but on the second night it was broken by the wind and I could find only one Other in good condition. Tho ship's lights must have been blown away in the storm together with her boats, and much of her rigging. I would not hang out the only lantern left me, for fear ii should come to grief and that I should be left in the dark at night in that great vessel. Had I known that I was on a vessel which had been regularly relegated to the ranks of the forsaken I should better have appreciated the importance of allowing passing •■ vessels to see that there was a light on board the Sparhawk, and, therefore, in all probability a life. As day after day had passed I had become more and more disheartened. It . seemed to me that I was in a part of the gi?eat ocean avoided by vessels of every kind, that I was not in the track of any thing going anywhere. Every day there seemed to be less and less wind, and when I had been on board a week the Sparhawk was gently rising and falling on a smooth sea in a dead calm. Hour after hour I swept the horizon with the captain's glass, but only once did I see any thing to encourage me. This was what appeared like a long line of black smoke against the distant Sky, which might have been j left by a passing steamer; but, were this the case, I never saw the steamer. Happily there were p'enty of provisions on board of a plain kind. I .. found spirits and wine, and even mediiines, and in the captain's room there were pipes, tobacco and some books. This comparative comfort gave me a new and strange kind of despair. I began to fear that I might become contented to live out my life air- e in the midst of this lonely ocean. In that case, what sort of a man should I be? . It was about half-past eight by the captain's chronometer when I carao on deck on the morning of the 25th of May. I had become a late riser, for wbat was the good of rising early when there was nothing to rise for? I had scarcely raised my eyes above the rail of the ship j when, to my utter amazement, I perceived a vessel not a mile away. The sight was so unexpected and the sur- | prise was so great that my heart almost stopped beating as I stood and gazed at her. She was a medium-sized iron steamer and lay upon the sea in a peculiar fashion, her head being much lower than her stern, the latter elevated so much that I could see part of the blades of her motionless propeller. She presented the appearance of a ship which was just about to plunge, bow foremost, into the depths of the ocean, or which had just risen, stern foremost, from those depths. With the exception of her position and the fact that no smoke-stack was visible, 'she seemed, to my eyes, to be in good enough trim. She had probably been in collision with something, and her forward compartments had filled. Deserted by her crew, she had become a derelict, and, drifting about in her desolation, had fallen in with another derelict as desolate as herself. The fact that I was on board the Sparhawk did not, in my eyes, make that vessel any the less forsaken and forlorn. The coming of this steamer gave me no comfort. Two derelicts, in their saddening effects upon the spirits, would be twice a§ baft a.g one, and, more than that, there wa^ fongen? should a storm arise that they would dash.in.to ' etach other and both go to the bottom. ' Despairing/ asi I had become, I did not want to go to the bottom. . As I gazed upon the steamer I could see that sbe was gradually approaching

morning, ana so much of her hull stood out of the water that it caught a good deal of the wind. ' The Sparhawk, on the contrary, was but little affected by the breeze, for apart from the fact that the great sail kept her head always to tho wind, she was heavily laden with sugar and molasses and sat deep inthe water. The other was not coming directly towards me, but would', probably pass at a considerable distance. I did not at all desire that she should come near the Sparhawk. ' ..-v Suddenly my heart gave a junip. I could distinctly see on the stern of the steamer the nutter of something white. It was waved. Somebody must be waving it. Hitherto I had not thought of the spyglass, for with my naked' eyes I could 3ee all that I cared to see of the vessel', but now I dashed below to get it. When ■ ./'^A- j T OOK THINGS EASY. I brought it to bear upon the steamer 1 saw plainly that the white object was waved by some one, and that some one was a woman. I could see above the rail the upper part of her body, her uncovered head, her \iplifted arm wildly r waving.. ' Presently the waring ceased and then the thought suddenly struck me that, receiving no response, she had in despair given ' up signaling. Cursing my stupidity I jerked my handkerchief from my pocket and climbing a little way into the rigging I began to wave it madly. Almost instantly her waving recommenced. I soon stopped signaling and so did she. No more of that was needed. I sprang •to the deck and took up the glass. The woman was gone, but in a few moments she reappeared armed with a glass. This action filled me with amazement. Could it be possible that the woman was alone on the steamer and that there was no one else to signal and to look out? ' The thing was incredible, and yet, if there were men on board, why did they not show themselves? And why did not one of them wave the 3igrial and use the glass? The steamer was steadily but very slowly nearing the Spai'hawk when the . woman removed the glass and stood up waist high above the rail of the steamer.

. ,-i .-,'\- i TOOK THINGS EASY. I brought it to bear upon the steamer 1 saw plainly that the white object was waved by some one, and that some one was a woman. I could see above the rail the upper part of her body, her uncovered head, her \iplifted arm wildly r waving.. Presently the waring ceased and then the thought suddenly struck me that, receiving no response, she had in despair given ' up signaling. Cursing my stupidity I jerked my handkerchief from my pocket and climbing a little way into the rigging I began to wave it madly. Almost instantly her waving recommenced. I soon stopped signaling and so did she. No more of that was needed. I sprang •to the deok and took up the glass. The woman was gone, but in a few moments she reappeared armed with a glass. This action filled me with amazement. Could it be possible that the woman was alone on the steamer and that there was no one else to signal and to look out? ' The thing was incredible, and yet, if there were men on board, why did they not show themselves? And why did not one of them wave the 3igrial and use the glass? The steamer was steadily but very slowly nearing the Sparhawk when the . woman removed the glass* and stood up waist high above the rail of the steamer. Now I could see her much better; I fancied I could almost discern her fr-at-ures. She was not old; she was v.' 11---shaped; her bluish-gray dress fit Led her snugly. Holding tho rail with outhand she stood up very erect, which must have been somewhat difficult, considering the inclination of the deck. For a moment I fancied I had seen or known some one whose habit it was to stand up very erect a,s this woman stood upon the steamer. The notion ?, r at> banished as absurd. "Wondering what I should do, what instant action I should take, I laid down my glass, and as I did so the woman immediately took up hers. Her object was plain enough; she wanted to observe me, which she could not well do when a view of my face was obstructed by the glass and my outstretched arms. I was sorry that I had not sooner given her that opportunity and for some moments I stood and faced her, waving my hat as I did so. I was wild with excitement. What should I do? What could I do? There were no boats on the Sparhawk, and what had become of the one in which I reached her I did not know. Thinking of nothing but getting on board the vessel, I had forgotten to make the boat fast, and when I went to look for it a day or two afterwards it was gone. On the steamer, however, I saw a boat hanging from davits near the stern. There was hope in that. But there might be no need for a boat. Under the influence of the gentle breeze, the steamer was steadily drawing nearer to the Sparhawk. Perhaps they might touch each other. But this idea was soon dispelled, for I could see that the wind would carry the steamer past me, . although, perhaps, at no great distance. Then my hopes sprang back to the *boat hanging'from her davits. But before these hopes could take shape the woman and her glass died out of sight behind the rail of the steamer. In about a minute she reappeared, stood up erect, and applied a speaking trumpet to her mouth. It was possible that a high, shrill voice might have been heard from one vessel to the other, but it was plain enough that this was a woman who took, no useless chances. I, too, must be prepared to hail as well as to be hailed. Quickly'l secured a speaking trumpet from the captain's room . and stood up at my post. Across the water came the monosyllable "Ho!" and backl shouted "Hallo!" , Then came these words, as clear and distinct as any I ever heard in my life: "Are you Mr, Rockwell?" This question almost took away my senses. -Was this reality? or had a spirit risen from this lonely ocean to summon me somewhere? -Was. this the way people died? Eockwell? Yes, my name was .'Rockwell At least it had been. I was su,ye e& nothing now. Again Qame the voice across the sea. "Why don't you answer?" it said. I raised my trumpet to my, lips. At first I could make no sound, but, con-; . trolling my agitation a little, I shouted: ' "Yes!" -* Instantly 'the womaW disappeared; and , for ten minutes I aaw her no more. Paring that £l»e JE did nothing tm\ *

stand and look at the steamer; whi. h was moving more slowly than before fur the reason that -lie wind was dyi is £ away. She was now, , however , v nearly opposite me, an# so^near that if the wind should cease entirely conversation might be ' held without tho. aid of trumpets. I earnestly hoped thij might be the case, for I had now recovered the possession of my senses arl greatly desired to hear the natural voice of that young woman on the steamer. * As soon as she- reappeared I made a trial of tho power of my voice. "Laying : down the trumpet I shouted: "Who are you?" Back came the answer, clear, high and perfectly audible: "I am Mary Phillips." Mary Phillips! It seemed t-- ino that I remembered the r.."jme. Iwe '< revta inly familiar with tho erect attil'.le, ucd I fancied that I recognized the features of the "speaker. But this was all; I - could not place her. Before I could say any thing she hailed again: "Don't you remember me?" she cried; "I K-.-r>d in Forty-second street." The middle of a >»-ild and desolate ocean and a voico from Forty-second street! What manner of conjuncture was this? I clasped my head in try hands arid tried to think. Suddenly a memory came to mo; a wild, surging, raging memory. "With what person did you live in Forty-seoond street?" I yelled across the water. , ■. . "Miss Bertha Nugent," she replied. A fire seemed to blaze within me. Standing on tiptoe I. fairly screamed: "Bertha Nugent! Where is she?". The answer came back: "Here!" And, when I heard if. my leg* gave way beneath me and I fell to tha deck. I roust have remained for some minutes half lying, half seated, on the deck. I was nearly stupified by the Statement I had heard. '. , I will now sa.y a few words concerning Miss Bertha Nugent. She was a lady whom I had known well in New York, and who, for more than a year, I had loved well, althouj. » I never told her so. Whether or not she suspected icy passion was a question about which I had never been able to satisfy myself. Sometimes I had one opinion; sometimes another. Before I had taken any steps to assure myself positively in regard to this point Aliss Nugent went abroad with a party of friends, and for eight months I had neither seen nor heard from her. During that time I had not ceased to berate myself for my inexcusable procrastination. As she went away without knowing my f-jelings towards her, of course there could be no correspondence. Whatever she might have suspected, or whatever she might have expected, there was nothing between us. But on my part ray love for Bertha had grown day by disy. llafcirig the city and even the country whore I had seen her and loved her u - wher t now she was not, I traveled hrre and there, and during the winter went to the West Inlies. There I had remained until the

"#£s>••• * SIGHT THE DEBEIiICT. • weather had "become too warm for i . longer sojoxirn, and then I had taker passage in the Thespia for New York I knew that Bertha would probably return in the spring 1 or summer, and J must be in New York when she arrived. If when I met her I found her free, there would be no more delay. My life thenceforth would be black or white. And now here she was near me in a half-wrecked steamer on the wide Atlantic, with no companion, as I knew, but her maid, Mary Phillips. a