The Golden age. (Atlanta, Ga.) 1906-1915, April 22, 1915, Page 3, Image 3

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April 22, 1915 (ED. NOTE. Because it changes so materially the sense of the story, we must in justice to the author call attention to two typographical errors in the last installment. In the last paragraph of first col umn the phrase reading “Where he found ‘Marie’ on her knees by Warren’s cot,” should be “Lucy,” and the same error occurs in the second column, last paragraph, in the phrase, “a glimpse of War ren with ‘Marie,’ etc.” ’’Lucy,” Warren’s stolen sweetheart, was the party refered to.) THE form on deck rose and like a wild black fiend from hell itself, sprang out and down—down to the murky depths —then the poor old Chrsterfjeld, freed of its last soul, heaved up another great burst of flame and smoke and sparks—shook herself from bow to stern, lurched, and then parted, plate by plate, and sank in a seething turmoil of black water I And all was darkness I CHAPTER XI. Alas! The countless number of human souls that have fed old ocean, they seem enough to people another universe. In all the centuries that have passed away how many unfortunate creatures have made a dain ty morsel for his hunger? Only a man, a woman or a child, that is all, and yet, without exception almost, they have been the darling of some fond heart —a place in some home is made vacant, and a void in life left in aching hearts by his greed. As the lifeboats which held those lives in which we have become interested drifted far ther and farther apart in the darkness, leav ing the scene of the disaster far behind, many were the sad reflections that filled the bur dened hearts of their inmates. All the remain der of the night, riding the high w’aves, there were many times when they expect ed to be engulfed, and only prayer and faith in God held them away from despair. Poor Maybeth, who had been quite calm and brave so long as the glances of love and faith from her noble fiance could telegraph hope and trust into her soul, felt, since this strong anchor had been snatched from her, that it would be a relief if she could only glide over the bar into eternity. She clung in desperate loneliness to Mrs. Montrose, and as the sun climbed out of the blue waters with the com ing of the morning, finding them far to the southeast, the poor girl looked out searchingly, longingly, in every direction over the bound less stretch of waves, which were all sobbing softly now for the ruin they had wrought, to see if it were possible to locate the other boat, but not so; they were afloat on that broad •expanse of water, all alone, drifting, drifting at the will of the wind, they knew not whither. There was nothing to do but wait as patiently as possible, with prayerful hearts, for develop ments., their one hope 'being that they might be sighted by some passing vessel before —they dared not think beyond their hope. The clouds had gone almost entirely with the high wind of the night, only an occasional drift of mist floated across the blue canopy above them or broke the clear line of the dis tant horizon. All day long the tropic sun glared at them as their frail craft floated helplessly over the waves; a great ball of scorching heat, it drew them with its magnetic force until it seemed they, too, must be drawn up and become a THE UNEXPECTED By Marie Louise Montague. THE GOLDEN AGE floating mist to be rained down farther out still on the rolling waves or on some strange shore. The wind itself seemed a heated steam blowing to them from out some unseen fur nace. All day long they watched, scanning the waves by turns, because the eyes burned and grew so tired of the glitter and glimmering light of the sun on the constantly rolling, toss ing .waters, but no where did the tiniest sail appear. Their thirst was getting unbearable now, and although they dreaded beyond expression the miserable agony of a whole long night, of ris ing first on the crest of the waves then sink ing lack in the trough with that “awful” sense of sinking beneath that dark water, yet the relief from the extreme heat made them welcome the coming of darkness. At least it would mean a break of the mo notony of that day that had seemed so un bearably long and there would be rest from that glare that had almost driven them to frenzy. Rufo was clinging to Maybeth, his beloved violin buttoned up close to his heart under his shabby little coat, determined not to be sepa rated from his one earthly possession. And he had so won the hearts of both crew and pas sengers that no one seemed to see his ruse to carry the valuable instrument with him. No one had the heart to say him nay. But the horror of the burning vessel and the strain of the day had driven all thought of music from even him, but now as the sun began to show itself behind the horizon, he nestled closer to Maybeth and asked her if he could take it out, adding, “Maybe it will help us forget where we are and take our thoughts up closer to the Saviour you have taught me about.” “Yes, Rufo,” answered Maybeth simply, “I am sure it will.” But she could not quite smother the sigh that came unbidden. “Didn’t you tell me ’Star,’ that He was closer to us when we were in trouble?” ques tioned the boy earnestly.” “Always,” said Maybeth, with fervor. “Then,” put in Mrs. Montrose, “let us have something that will strengthen our faith, for it is we who are drifting; not Him; He is stead fast and unchangeable.” Rufo drew his bow gently, slowly over the strings as though he was seeking tenderly to awaken the sleeping harmony hidden within, and to carry eaeh note straight to the heart of his hearers as he made his faithful violin al most speak the words, “Nearer my God to thee— Nearer to thee E’en though it be a cross That raiseth me.” Softly, one by one, their voices dropped into the song, forming a weird chorus and unan nounced Rufo forgetful of all else now, led them on into the staying comfort of: “Jesus Lover of My Soul Let me to thy bosom fly.” Marie Le Crew, laying her hand on the cross at her throat drew down closer to Maybeth and began to weep softly as though she dared not add to the sorrow of any one, only, the pent up flood of her agonized soul must have re lief —release from its bondage, and so, she wept on softly, Maybeth’s hand stole gently about her in the fast gathering twilight. The oarsmen pulled at their oars in stolid silence, neither daring to weaken the cords with which they were holding themselves in hand. A steerage woman and her daughter who had rushed up terrified, as this boat was being filled, crouched down nearer the stern of the los.nng boat, Mid with clasped hands be gan to croon a prayer softly in their broken English. Reaching into her hand-bag Maybeth took out her little Bible which was always her com panion and read: Then the light slipped away, the stars, first, one by one, then in twinkling groups sprang to their places, the moon peeped cautiously out above the horizon, then leaped to her throne as- queen of the night, throwing her glittering shafts of light out across their path-way. The warring enemy of wind yield ing unwillingly to the sceptor of peace which Luna held, grew quiet enough to still their fears for a time and one by one the women in the boat leaning against each other, or prop ped against the side of the boat dropped into the sleep of exhaustion. “All quiet along the Potomac”—or Atalntic, would have been an appropriate comment now, for the men, thankful that the women in their care could sleep and be spared some of the ter rible agony of suspense, and anxiety that was crushing them, had sat with bowed heads and held their silence almost unbroken for several hours, Rufo, with his head in Maybeth’s lap, stirred in his sleep, murmured something of his birds, then cried out, “Oh! they are in the fire.” Springing up, frightened, he had awakened the other sleepers before the men could quiet him, and only Maybeth could comfort or soothe him. Thoroughly aroused now, they began again their search in the moonlight for the sight of a pasisng vessel. There was no way to tell where they were; they could only hope and trust. Suddenly Rufo turned and, looking in the opposite direction, exclaimed, “See! what is that ball of fire coming toward us?” “Where ? Where?” echoed every voice. “Yonder. Don’t you see?” The wind was rising again with the turn of the night, and down went the boat just then in the trough of a swell; but as they rose to the crest everv eye was strained, and there was no doubting—that was a light, and their despair ing hearts sprang to their throats for joy at the possibility of something real to which they could pin their flagging hopes. “To your oars, men!” shouted Pat O’Garity, in whose charge the lifeboat had been lowered, “bend to, faith ’n if we only had er sail, this wind ’ud drive us like an ould engine. Nor did Pat depend on the other two alone. “Have a hand there, sir.” said he, turning to Sydney and pointing to the oar assigned him, “whativer it is, we’ll lose no time in investiga tin’ it.” (Continued on page 11.) 3