A MIDSHIPMAID AND A CAT

Otago Witness, Issue 3829, 2 August 1927, Page 75

A MIDSHIPMAID AND A CAT

Something soft and furry rubbed against my legs. It was the kitten, the one pet of the Bougainville. I stopped to stroke her, but at the moment there was a sudden gust of wind. The mate, standing nearby, - jumped away, scanned the sky quickly, and from his jerking head I knew a squall was imminent. Taking the kitten in my arms, I pulled my chair to a spot enshrouded with blackness, out of the way, yet in a position where I might have a full view of everything. The mate snapped out his orders, the French sailors cried and yelled as spanker, ringtail, and royals were lowered. Kitty was nervous. I attributed this to the fact that a day or two before she was nearly poisoned with kerosene when I bathed her with it to get rid of the fleas. She licked it off. Also, on this very day, had she not closed herself in my hatbox, nearly suffocating before I opened it several hours later? Ruminating on her many adventures, I tried to soothe her, but she remained uneasy. The squall passed and left us almost becalmed. The watch went forward to the main deck. Jean came out of the chart room for a breath of air, and paused a moment not far from where I was sitting. Kitty climbed down and—as I thought—went to her. The captain, standing at the port rail, then called me. I went, and did not hear the soft steps of kitty padding after me. All at once, a- faint, barely audible cry arose from the sea. For one swift instant I thought my ears deceived me. The cat I

With a leap, the captain went down the companionway, returning a moment later with a flashlight. Tli© watch came running aft. “ Qu'est-ce que e’est?" “Meow! Me-ou-w!”

The trickle of sound rose bravely. Kitty was holding her own. Peering over the rail into a steely void, I could see her tiny paws. She was moving forward, swimming faster than the ship, for, at that moment, we were going very slowly. She came even with the galley on the main deck. Ropes were lowered. She caught one with a tiny white paw, tried to raise herself, succeeded. Instantly a

bucket was drop]>ed over. The rope holding kitty was lifted gently until she was even with the pail. She caught on and was half over the edge, climbing in, when a gust of wind sent us forward with a spurt. Kitty loosened hey grip, slipped, fell back into the sea. The sailors ran aft again, crying, trailing their ropes behind them. Fainter grew kitty’s cry. No hope now I We were going too fast. The captain leaned over the rail as far as he could, flashing his torch. In the glow we could seo kitty swimming, drifting. Shortly she was caught in the churling wake of tbe ship and drowned in a starry phosphorescence, her casket a million diamonds. Poor kitty 1 Her death left us sad, and I mourned especially, for had I not been tbe near cause of her death on two previous occasions? The captain, trying to assuage my grief, told me that nearly all cats on ships lose their lives in this way. They trust too much to their claws and learn too late that they cannot cling to the iron sides of a ship. Only one of the many cats he owned grew to maturity, and she had reached middle age. She had seen her mother, father, two brothers, a sister, and her fiance drown. —Viola Irene Cooper, in the Spectator.