THE FEAR.

Evening Post, Volume LXVI, Issue 136, 5 December 1903, Page 13

THE FEAR.

When I first saw him n& was sitting on tho harbour wall, watchvng the fish-ing-boats as one by ono and in obedft enco to an unseen discipline they pub out to eoa. For a time I took no more notice of him than just to see that ho was bronzed and grey, ttnd that his faco was lined with those deep wrinkles which seem to imply strong winds nnd tho stress of long watches. At tho moment my fancy was following tho brown sails out into tho sunlight of the open «ea, and thoso brown sails seemed to me to suggest the putting forth of tho soul into tho illimitable and unfathomable mystery. On oitheT sido of tho littlo harbour green hills ran up against tho absolute purity of blue; they, and the white town behind, represented homo and socurity and nil the human round of comedy and trogedy. The deil beyond represented uncertainly, n. power unknown and incomprehensible, a mystery beautiful and terrible. And then my oyes returned to tho figure on the harbour wall, and I began to wonder why ho was not away with tho boats. "How .are tho chances to-dny?" I asked. Ho looked at mo with blue seableached eyes, but they did not, teem to coo mo. I repeated my question, to which he replied, "Good, I reckon." And then his gaze went seaward again. Thero came upon mo a midden feeling that tho man hud that; in his mind which was nob for mo. A littlo later I was out in a small boat Spinning for mackerel, and as my blue-jorseyod boy rowed the man's face came back to inc. "Who was that sitting on the wall junt now?" 1 asked. "Won the bdnts was goin' out?" T nodded. "Thnt'd b» Tom Cfe^eeri. Hob got I'ho fear." I let my line slnckon, and asked, "What do you mean by tho fear?" Tho boy rested on his' oars, and stared fii mb. "The fear o* tho sea," ho said. I felt somothtflg in my throat that made me send a questioning glance ncromt tho innocence of blue which the sea, had assumed that day. "You mean," I said, "that ho's afraid of the eea?" And then I was told how Cregeon two years before had been washed overboard, how he hiid battled for his life in a whirling world ringed round by tho unsteady lights of heaving boats, nnd how, when he wa£ rescued, the fear was in hitt soul. And as the boy told tho story I understood the meaning bf that fenr, and I understood, too, that a mnn might by no means escape from it in all the after years. And when the boy said, *in an entirely commonplace voice, "But 'tift no good foj- Torn to stay nshoro ; tho sea'll always nave Its own," I shuddered in tho sunlight. Lnto in the afternoon, when I was. snio on shoro, a storm gathered and broke. 1 turned out into the narrow, hilly (ttrcots to face it, exulting in tho splendid energy of it all. It was a Wednesday evening, and above mo the lighted church with its clamour of bells oftlled to evehiiong. Tho congregation was sparse when I entered, but gradually it grew, and CrcgoaA. cdine in with the others. 1 &at noar a pillar upon which, tho numbers of tho hymns wero displayed, and presently tho vergej- altered ono of tho numbers. I turned to tho hymn-book beforo me 1 , which opened

automatically at a page on which I read : | "Menial Father, utrong lo nave, ; Whose arm hath bound the restless wave, Who bidd'.^L the mighty ormui deep Hh own appointed limits keep: O hear us wlu-n we cry to Thee For those in peiil on tho sea." That hymn wa« sung with forvour, but without feav ; ono saw in tho eyes of most of tho women the light of a faith which a man would give much to secure. But in tho face of Crogeen was a fear unspeakable ; his lip» fumbled over tho word!) ; he held tho back of the pew hcfore him as fhough it had been the gunwale of a foundering boat. I knew that he heard again tho din of drumming waters and felt himself at grips with death. And when I returned to the place a year later I heard that tho sea had cloiinod him on a cloudless day. — From the Academy and Literature.