BENSON'S KIDS.

Oamaru Mail, Volume XXXVIII, Issue 10570, 27 September 1910, Page 6

BENSON'S KIDS.

(By William Holloway.) c The land toward which the boat crept toilsomely; was so far away that it ap- c peared only a vague, violet blur against t the brazen tropic sky. The two men rowing openly derided p its existence, or, indeed, the existence of any land, affirming, through parched ( and swollen lips, that the world had J now become one universal ocean. Ben- ( son, the steersman, who had discovered the violet blur an hour before, laughed grimly at the joke through lips that , were as cracked and swollen as their j own. '.. ; Ho took a note-book from his pocket * and made a. brief calculation. Then he I j looked critically at the small compass . I lying on the thwart before him. "There's no question about it being land," he announced with an air of as-I" surance. . Jenkins, the bow oarsman, 'a 'tall, black-haired giant of ,a man, swore softly. • •■- •-■ "1 can see it without • turning, ■ said he sarcastically. "There's a table under a palm-tree set for three of us. Spot the long iced drinks,.Jimmie." Jimmie Peters, who rowed stroke, shook his head wearily. "Cut that out about drinks, Bobby,' ho pleaded. "I am pretty : well all in." Benson reviewed his calculation. 'lt is seven o'clock ' Friday morning. We abandoned the Brunhilda at one Sunday morning. That makes five days and six hours. And we were then, so the captain said, about two hundred miles east of the Antilles. Up to this morning we had a Jittle easterly breeze behind us. What with that and our rowing, we most have come pretty near that distance. At least, that's the way it looks to me." "And the way it looks to me," said Jimmie Peters, resting on his oars, "is that we have to make land to-day, if it's going to do us any good." He looked at his blistered, bleeding hands. "Wait till the sun gets up a bit more." "Never mind the sun. I'll take my turn now," "exclaimed Benson cheerfully. They were taking turns of an hour at the oars, followed by half an hour at the tiller, and Benson's halfhour had still live minutes run. ■ Jimmie Peters drew in his oars slowlv and painfully, and staggered to his • feet. He had stroked a college crew a few years before, and handled, his oars ! with a certain delicate precision which Benson even now found time to admire. "Well; hurry up," he called savagely, ■ looking down at the coveted seat in the l stern. ; Something unusual in the tone made Benson's professional instincts —he had been ship's doctor on the Brunhilda — I awaken with a start. Jimmie Peters' . rounded face had grown strangely drawn and haggard. Ho swayed to and fro from weakness as he' stood waiting. ) "Take it easy, Jimmie," said he, yielding his place. "Easy? Nonsense," was the sharp reply, as Peters dropped into the sternsheets. "I want water."

Jenkins, who had been pulling away doggedly, laughed outright at the absurdity of the remark. Their scanty water-supply had come to an end on Wednesday' evening, and Thursday's sun liad been pitiless. ••There's lor of water ashore," he

said with a husky, jarring voice. "And lot* of i'ools that don't know enough to drink it."

Ashley Benson took the oars into his hand, very enrefully. When one's hands have gone beyond the blistered stage they pass into another condition e\en more pleasant. And Benson's hands had been the typically soft hands of the professional man. In the half-hour's respite from rowing lie had been able to alleviate the na'in with some ointment from his medi-;-ine-ease. Now, as his bandaged hands once more gripped the oars, the pain eame bark tenfold.

lie dipped his blades slowly into the water, and Jenkins cursed him hoarsely for a lubber. Then he straightened his back and began to row. Til-.' heavy oars did scant execution in their wearied hands, and the boat moved sluggishly through the oily vi'.'iut. Overhead, in a copper sky, )>!a: r .ed a round red ball of fire, which to people in more fortunate climes was at that verv time an emblem of beneiieeuee. but "which to the castaways was an enemy more terrible and relentless than an army with banners. Inch by inch that fiery globe would mount higher, and minute by minute, its rays grow more scorching hot. And they had already been without water for thirty-six hours!

Thev had. rowed perhaps five minutes when Jenkins rested on his oars. "But I am thirsty!" he burst out. And the words, issuing from between his cracked and swollen lips, sounded harsh as the chum of iron upon iron. "You aren't the only one, Bobby," said Jimmic Peters wearily. He sat huddled in the stern, his head bent forward on his chest. "If only I had that steward here." A little quiver of assent passed through the other two. They had left the provisioning of the. boat in the hands of one of the assistant stewards, and the man had put in very little

water. Peters ran his hand into the locker and produced a tin of pate-de-foie-gras. "Why isn't that idiot here?" he complained. There was, no reply from the rowers, and Jimmie's head began to nod, while the boat went slowly into the silence. There was something awful in the dead calm. No breath of air moved the heated atmosphere. On all sides stretched a sea of glass which no waves rippled, over which no sea-bird flew. The only sound in ail the vast immensity of space was the monotonous click of the rowlocks as the oars swung to and fro. Benson; struggling doggedly at the oars, was oppressed by the silence. It began to chafe his nerves, to make him want to shriek aloud, if only to hear a voice break the stillness. That' way, his medical instinct warned him, lay danger. So he amused himself by calculating the number of feet per second traversed by the boat, and the length of time required to reach the far-away land.

He turned about in his seat. The violet blur was apparently as remote as it had been an hour before—just a faint daub of color that persisted, and that his experience told him must be land. Suppose it were thirty miles away, he reflected. And suppose they made two miles an hour —a liberal allowance con-

sidering the state of their hands. That would mean fifteen hours' toil, and an. other night on the boat. Ashlev Benson's face grew very grave. It needed cnlv a glance at his companions to tell that they had nearly reached their limit of endurance. Thenquick, gasping breath, their thickened tongues now beginning to protrude from between their teeth, told a tale whose meaning was plain. Without water it was doubtful that they could endure until night came. There is a wonderful power in habit. All three men were skilled oarsmen, and nil knew that their only hope of life lay in rowing steadily forward. So that, when ordinary men would have abandoned themselves to despair, these toiled doggedly at the oars., : . Presently Jimmie Peters looked at his watch and nodded to Jenkins, and the tall man rose, stretched himself wearily, and flung himself in the stern■«hccts, while Peters once more took up the oars. They were flecked here and there with little drops of Jeukins' blood, but to this Jimmie paid no attention. His own hands were torn and bleeding, and drops of his own blood would iji-psciitly trickle down, as they had done before. Rut that was suffering of such a minor kind as actually to appear pleasant compared to the ever-present, overpowering horror of thirst. It had affected them all alike—first, a dry parching of the mouth and throat, then a dull ache throughout the body, as if countless unseen nerves were callin <r for something which was their due, followed by a choking in the throat, and a sharp burning pain in the stomach. To this had now been added a curious lightness in the head, as though warm air were continually rising before the face. "Do you fellows notice it, too?" asked Jimmie thicklv. '!That hot feeling about the head?"

"Ah, shut up," said Jenkins with a scowl. "It's the <hot air from the water."

"No, it isn't," Jimmie persisted. "Cut it out," roared Jenkins l hoarsely. "I say it is. The sun shines down on this stagnant water, and the hot air rises right in a man's: face."

"You men are both right," interjected Benson quietly. "There is a hot current from the water. But I noticed, the same feeling jn the night when it was cool. It's a kind or feverish excitement, and the only thing to do is to keep calm." , 'His words were .■■ matter -or - tact enough, hut the men who heard Underthe meaning - behind them. Men grow mad from thirst. And it was the delirium of thirst that, likesame fabled monster, lay in wait for them behind the thin veil of the future. Jenkins ran his hand in the locker and drew out some biscuits. The boat had been well stocked but for. the unaccountable' shortage in'i the water supply. He placed a-fragment of the biscuit on his leathern tongue, but withdrew-: it and: threw it into the ocean. Eating had now become impossible. ■ Time Jagged slowly by, marked only by changes from oars to helm and back I again, and by the slow rising of the Remorseless sun overhead. It grew so hot that, each touch upon the woodwork ot the boat Was like coming in contact witli a glowing stove. Their hanas, blistered and torn earlier in the day, were now like eagles' talons, twisted, blood-stained, horrible. Their sunken eyes glittered feverishly in their heads, their cheeks were hollow, and from their cracked and bleeding mouths tonguetips protruded, black and distorted. ■ The boat lav almost motionless on the water, though the rowers still made languid movements with their oars. The sun, like some blazing deity of wrath, was preparing for a sacrifice. . Jenkins, who was bow oarsman, suddenly drew in his oars and laughed

aloud. '. i nx"i was thinking of the good old times on the Brunhilda," he muttered in

apology. • -.-, - ~ "Dancing on deck after dinner, exclaimed Jimmie Peters, rousmg himself from his lethargv. "How Edna Gilmore

used to waltz!" . "Ah, shut up, Jimmie," cried Jenkins hoarsely. "She never liked your style." Ordinarily a quiet, reserved giant, he had begun to display, under stress, traits of self-esteem Benson had not hitherto suspected. "I intended to ask her before wo left the boat." "So did I," declared Peters stoutly. "I thought I had a chance." Jenkins swore and drew bank ins hand: Jimmie PcteTs stayed hint by lurching to his feet. "Mustn't fight over ladies, Bobbv, old man," he enunciated with difficulty. "Benson oughtn t to hear this." . "Hang Benson," muttered Jenkins in a thick voice. "He has kids of his own." t t i Peters nodded understandmgly, ana i sat down, and the two men—travelling "ompanions and friends of long standing—were presently talking, arm-m----arm, in the bow. Benson, meanwhile, sat as if turned to stone. He had kids, lie exultingly reflected; two little motherless girls. They lived with their grandparents in a. quaint Vermont village, where time seemed to have stood still. He could see them as they had stood at the gate to bid him good-bye when he drove awav a month before —precious morsels of'humanity for whom it was his privilege to front the world. He had not dared to allow himself to think of them since leaving the Brunhilda, but now it came to him that he liad been thinking of them all the time. He had not put the thought into words, but awav down underneath his conscious thought it had been guiding him to husband'his strength to the utmost, to make the best light for life was in him to make —all for two littic gins among the Vermont hills. He put his hand in his pocket and drew out their picture. Then, with a careful air as though afraid of losing it, he touched it softly with his parched lips, and slipped it into his pocket

again. . 'in the forward part or the boat Jenkins and Peters, arms entwined, were babbling of Miss Gilmore, their raucous strident voices cutting painfully through the quivering heat. It was giwvmg more intolcrablv hot with each minute, and Benson could feel his head swimming with vertigo. T'o divert his mind he opened the locker and began to arrange the useless stores within. As instant later he glanced at his companions with suspicions eyes. They were quite oblivious of his presence, and for the moment the secret was safe. . For the despised locker contained a eocrot—a secret that at the niomeut was worth countless millions. In the rear a tinv leathern flap disclosed a miniature hatchway, which, when lifted, revealed a small compartment, evidently intended for, the keeping of a bottle or two upon ice, and now empty save for an ordinary milk-bottle filled with water. That the bottle contained water Benson knew at once. The man who had provisioned the boat had packed all the water-supply in bottles. His only faun had been that lie had miscalculated in regard to the number necessary. The bottle had evidently been thrust into the small compartment in the hurt',)' oi departure. Ashley Benson glanced once more at his companions. They were still unmindful of him, and he could proceed to act. In the. locker were the three glasses thev had laid aside when water failed. Bending down, his hack toward his companions, he emptied the water into the glasses. There was just enough to fill each to the brim. For a moment the temptation to drink all three was almost overpowering. Then he flung it aside. He let his blackened/swollen tongue hang into one of the glasses moving it slowly to and fro. Then, feeling the touch of the water revive him in every vein, he poured the contents of the glass into his empty flask, and put the latter into his pocket. It was then that he announced his discovery.

"Be quiet, boys," he called out, trying to keep his voice calm. "I've.found a glass of water apiece." The faces which the two turned upon him were grinning, distorted, terrible. "Don't joke," said Jenkins sharply. Benson set the glasses of the thwart. "Be careful," he warned. "Don't shake the boat." A flash of joy passed over, their faces, rendering them more distorted and terrible than before. It. was not an emotion of the ordinary kind, but a fierce, savage rapture that had in it something wolfish and unholy. Benson shuddered. Had his own face, as he gloated over his glass, at all resembled theirs? They stood with . arms entwined to steady themselves. "My God! It's water!" muttered Peter' thickly, his tongue swollen'.'to an enormous size.. "Water!" ,'''"'' He suddenly shook himself free from his companion, and caught a: glass to his.lips. He was mad, quite mad, as Benson could see, and his eyes were rolling wildly in their sockets. "A toast,"Bobby," he shrieked. "Here's to her!" And throwing back, his, liead, he attempted to drink. But Jenkins made no reply. He had bent down to seize the second glass, and misfortune had .overwhelmed him. It might have been too great eagerness, his trembling hand, or the blinding sunlight reflected from the water. At all events, he had knocked over the glass, > From the big man came a harsh cry like the agony of some wounded animal,' and he flung himself at"Benson's feet trying to catch" the precious drops as they sarik into ;the'"dried planking. Then, with a bonhd; he sprang to his feet, and hurled the empty glass far seaward. "May the curses" he.begah. Jimmie Peters interrupted. Hel was vainly trying to force water down his parched, swollen throat, and some drops had already fallen to the bottom of the boat. "Here's to her!" he shrieked madly. ; With one movement Jenkins, beside himself with rage, caught the. glass from Jimmie Peter's hand's; and pressed it to his own lips. There was a quick scuffle, and Peters tore the glass away, its! contents falling like a silver cascade into the sea.

"Here's to her!"' lie shrieked with crazy '{dee. . Jenkins' distorted face was unearthly, fiendish in its passion. . "Drinkyour toast, von fool," he roared through, his cracked and swollen lips, pushing Peters violently sideways. The next moment. Benson and he were alone in the rocking boat; tho'madman had disappeared. With his arms on his hips, the tall man stood watching to see Jimmie Peters rise to the surface. "He can't swim." he cried exultantly. Benson, ordinarily tender-hearted as a girl, was amazed at his own stolidity. He had seen Jenkins throw Peters overboard, and the sight had left him

quite unmoved. For behind him a lit tlo breeze —a breeze that meant salya tion—had- come .to wrinkle the smootl mirror .of the ocean, "arid the boat wa slowly gathering headway. She had already made, some progress for Jimmie Peters came up quite astern I For an instant his distorted, awful fact i confronted them, like that of some horrible sea-monster newly risen from tin 1 deep. Then he threw up his arms am went down like a stone. Jenkins looked for several minutes a the place whore his friend had vanished Afterwards—with a shrug of hi: shoulders, he went to the bow and flnnj himse.rr down upon the seat where h< and Peters had been talking. Benson, sitting in the stern-sheets took a surreptitious sip at his flask, anc gazed landward. The vague violet blui had now unmistakably defined itself a: land. ' How far awav it might he he hac no means of telling, but with the breez< freshening behind, he had no doubt tha tliey would reach it by morning. I hen remained, then, the problem of keeping alive until rescue came.";, , ; , '..;'■• 'He thrust his hand into his pocke and drew out; the shabby little ,photo graph: They were his gir&y. .he, reflectec proudly—just his. They were probabl; talking about him even now, and long ing for him to come home. Well, In was" coming home. He told it to him self aloud. Then, with a start, he pull ed hhhself up sharply. His..medical in stinc.t reminded him'ho must, hot tall to'himself. Thereafter he tried to keep silence although his head swam, and in tin blaze of the afternoon sun he sav strange phantoms. From all points of the compass the; seemed to come to him, crawling oye the gunwale, and impudently takinj their place at his side—the phantoms o men who had gone the same bitter wa; he was now travelling. There were Norsemen with gleaming helmets, and English adventurers wh< had swept Spain from the seas, anc buccaneers who had sailed with Morgai and Kidd, mingled with groups ot wo men and children —all leering at lun with blackened, protruding tongues, a. thev danced about in triumph. "Your turn has como! Your tun lias come!" their voices shrieked. Am Benson, shaking his head, would allov the water to touch his fevered lips ,vhile he cursed the phantoms" for tin iai-s they were. He had quite forgotten Jenkins, mi nl, after allowing a drop of water t< ;rickle down his burning throat, In leard him call. The man had caugh light of the flask in his hand, and wa. lowlv coming aft, his face a thing o lorror. From between hideously swollei aws a noise that bore little resemblaiici o human speech smote upon the air. "Give me that water, Jou thief!" In oared. Benson stumbled to his feet ant vatnhed the other's slow approach as i ascinated. He was a child in tin ;iant's hands, and in a minute his flasl vould be gone. And with the flasl vould go all hope of seeing his girls. Jenkins paused to gather himself to ;ether. "Now, then!" he roared again The phantoms disappeared, and in thei: )lace two shy little majdeii faces peep'et it him. Hi's girls! What would.the; lo without him? He lifted his banc ind pointed past Jenkins. "What's Jimmie doing in the bow?' le called suddenly. The murderer turned about with.; start, and everything was easy. Ben ion put his whole force into the shove ind the other went overboard like : ;hot. In an instant he rose to the sur 'ace and struck out for the boat. Tin ;hildish faces appeared once more U Ashley Benson's fevercd'gaze. He seizec m oar, let it fall crashingly on Jenkins lead, and, balancing himself on tin •ocking boat, watched him slowly sinl mtil he was forever out of sight. The wind had freshened into a stif freeze, and behind him, some mile nvay, a schooner-yacht was scudding h ;hc 'wake of the little boat. But Ben ;on knew naught of this. He qjily felt that he had saved hi: ?irls froni trouble. He could not deter nine exactly what the trouble was, bu le dimly knew that he had done hi: lest to help them. And being renderec nore intolerably thirsty still by wha lad passed, he' drained the flask anc apsed into unconsciousness. An hour later, fresh, cool water fel gratefully upon his temples, and his niguisliecl mouth was bathed with what le knew must be elixir. A man whe vas evidently a physician was saying lonbtf ully: "If ho only recovered consciousness ;herc would be some hope. As it is, he vill probably not pull through." Floating ' through Ashley Benson's :ircd brain came the self-same vision of ;wo childish faces. He opened his eyes. "I must get better," he protested loarsely. "The kiddies want me."