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