A SUICIDAL MOMENT

Dominion, Volume 10, Issue 3163, 15 August 1917, Page 6

A SUICIDAL MOMENT

THE STORY OF A SILENT TRAGEDY [By "Wi."l , The lady opposite says that my rtory must be humorous, it must bo true, and it must net be scandalous. Oh—very well. This story is true, it is riot scandalous, and as for tho humour—well, the hardy joker laughs in the teeth of a spectre, thero is a smile on the faeo of the tiger, you read about grinning skull 3 in detective stories. There's humour everywhere—of a kind. What was it that some fellow wrote about the battlefield and the "Bells of Hell?" Oh, yesit went something like this: Tho Bells of Hell go ting-a-ling-a-ling For you, but not for me. Oh, Death, where is thy sting-a-hng a-ldng ? Ohj Grave, thy victory? The Bells of Hell go ting-a-ling-a-ling, And I don ! t care aD. The last line doesn't seem to l>e right, somehow, but no matter—you catch, the idea? ml Now, I'll tell you the story. The other day I was crossing over to Days Bay in. the old Cobar, and shortly n£ter we got out into the open my attention was attracted by tho peculiar behaviour of a man who was sitting at the stern of the boat, on the lower deck, all by himself. He began by going througii his pockets, slowly and carefully. He did' this twice. Then he gave it up and relapsed into on attitude of mingled dejection and disgust. I thought at first that he had lost his ticket, but when the deck-hand came along lie produced it at once. It wasn't money, although his face was the face of a man who had found sixpence and lost a shilling. J>o, it wasn't money, for when he was going through his pockets I saw silver and roll of notes. Besides, his attitude wasn't exactly the attitude of a man who had lost something. It was rather that of a man who had suddenly become obsessed by a deep personal aft action, ilo sat there, staring gloomily m front 01 him, with his arms folded, his legs stretched out, and his feet crossed. His pipe was out, and he was doing his be=t to bito a hole in the mouthpiece. The only other occupants of the deck were three ladies, knitting and gossiping, and they took no notice of him. I tried to read, but the man at the stern exercised a peculiar fascination lor me. A womanish intuition inspired me with the curious idea that I was watchin" a silent tragedy. Poker "sure things," and other representative expressions. of human mirfortunes flitted across my mind. But I could find no answer to tho puzzle of the tragedy opP °Suddenly tho E*n stood up, and I bad a feeling that the. tragedy was going to find expression, in. tho development 01 events. Ho dug his hands in his pockets and hunched Ins shoulders, while ho -stared at the swirling tide. Then he glanced up at tho bridge, looked round at the others, and mounted tho "ratin" that formed the stern seat. ° ill at onco I realised it. He was 'going to end it all at a plunge! I mentally reviewed tho possibilities of rescue, and decided my course of action. 1 couldn't swim much myself. As he iumped I would heave a seat overboard, shout to the engineer as I passed his window. "Man oveiiioard! and rush upstairs to the captain. Meanwhile the man stood there, gazing at the water. • I lit a cigarette. Fancy a man lightj ji* g, cigarette while watching another man about to tote his life! I dont know why I did.it. , I was scarcely,conscious of doiug it. • The man took another glanco up at (ho bridge, and looked around at us. As his gazo rested upon me his expression changed.- He took the pipe out of his mouth, with an air of having made his decision. Stepping briskly down from tile grating, he cauio over to me, and smiled. . ' , , "Give me a match, for Heavems sake, he said.