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The Semi-Weekly Journal.
Eatcrtd at tte AtUa-a FeetetHee »* Mali Mat
tar at tb« Second Class.
a, “*
JAMES R. GRAY.
Editor and General Manager.
SUBSCRIPTION PRICE.
« , Twete*
Mi swatte J
Tures matte
Tte tewi-Weekly Journal p ' J r b ‘u I .*'Lorv
Taateaj acd Friday, and to mailed by the abort
•st route* tor early delivery.
It contains new. trvm all oyer toe
fe bcwxtt bj .peels! leaned wires ln.° a, ‘ r
It tea a start ot diatiMoiab* 1 b “
• with strung oe.artmeuta aC special raluo to
terne aad tte tana.
Agents wanted at poetomce. Liters!
if million allowed, uatflt free.
The only trarellag represents tires we bare
are J. A. Bryan. B. F Belt-
end M. H. OUreatK We will be reopunsimo
eu«y tor money paid to the above named travet
tag reprtseatatltes.
Sf llttll ■ •■>••< • ‘ 1 TrtT
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♦ WEEKLY Atlanta. Ga- ♦
Friday, October 8, 1&09
And still they soar, the Wrights and
cotton. v
Fond parents realise at Christmas that
fc everybody works father.
Spain exulted too soon. The Moors are
regular Americans when It comes to fight-
In the fall of the year the thoughts of
the young married man ‘.urn to coal and
|G .F fu rs. 4?«
Governor Hughes Is after the gamblers
• ' again. The odds are agalntt. him. how-
fc... " '■ <
Portland Ore., made a hit with the
president. Portland left him alone part
of the time.
A doctor says it should be x crime to
operate for appendicitis. The bill ought to
£ be. certainly.
■ - 1 ——
The construction of Tennessee s liquor
| law seems to be that that state can be a
L good Bamarltan.
“Why have you come to Texas?” Bailey
asks Bryan Why not? What is the mat
ter with Texas?
Well dressed women, a fashion note
i says, wear IS pounds of clothes. The price
per pound, of course, varies.
Liquor seems to be having its troubles
tn Alabama. Considering some of the
trouble it has given, this would appear to
ig. be retribution.
Dozens of news items every day carry
a story of prosperity in sales of cotton,
higher prices for stocks, and increased
r* railway earnings.
It does seem that the president has
been photographed enough not to cause
the detectives a fright when a visitor tries
to press forward with a camera.
There are still enough people loyal to
*> the horse to make the horse show a suc
cess. and the rivalry between him and
fc the automobile will be all the more attrac
ted tire
OKLAHOMA’S SPRINTING
LAW.
Oklahoma, like many another
state, is having her own troubles
■ in dodging the interstate com-
1 merce clause in its relation to the
prohibition law.
And the court of appeals of the
gtate has about decided that the
matter reduces itself to a foot
rice.
In other words, the shipment
into the state is interstate com
merce until it has left the prem
ises of the railroad, at its desti-
[ 9 nation, and it is simply a
question as to whether the pur
chaser or the police officers get
to the depot first.
Various states have taken
various steps to encourage such
things as the Marathon races, but
it is doubtful if any of them have
ever offered a prize like this # The
man in a dry state who has been
leadine the life of a camel for a
long time , will cast his eyes
toward that depot and express of
fice as being verily the shadow
of a great rock in a wearv land.
Ht may be depended upon to
. count the days and the hours
until the shipment arrives.
He has the sole advantage of
• knowing when it is most likely to
come, and the police officers are
at a correspon ling disadvantage.
But that race through the
streets of an Oklahoma town,
I under the provisions of the law,
must be well worth seeing. We
see no need for any other amuse
ment. The penny arcades and
the moving picture shows would
j . be deserted when there was a
i . chance for such a sight. The pop
ulation, we may well imagine,
I would assemble on the highway
leading to the express office or
the station and watch that race
I between a purchaser and a police
man.
When the system becomes a
little more perfect rules will have
to be provided to insure the fair-
• ness of the contest. The true
type of the policeman is a little
| bit stout, and he should have a
start. But this and all the other
• ■ rules of the game will have to be
L handed down later on by the
facetious court of appeals.
PARTISAN DECEPTION EXPOSED.
The people of Georgia are now fully aware that an effort is
being made to discredit the new registration law by systematio
and persistent misrepresentation incited by the hostility of those
who prefer partisan advantage to the purity of the ballot.
Foreseeing that when the time limit neared its expiration
next spring, the enemies of this sane and simple safeguard of
the franchise would begin to complain that the people had been
“caught napping’’ as to a privilege which had been open to
them for six months. The Journal took the initiative, several days
before the first of October, to notify them that under the present
law the tax collector was compelled to open his registration books
at the same time he opened his tax books for the collection of
taxes.
The concurrent opportunity to pay taxes for this year and to
register for the coming year is a privilege which the people did
not enjoy under the old law. and at the same time the oppor
tunity to register remains open for one hundred days after the
tax books, under the law, are supposed to be closed.
These facts were set forth, as the record will show, not in a
spirit of partisan contention, but with a sincere desire to advise
the people in ample time of the opportunity to register which is
now afforded them, and which will remain open to them for six
months to come
We still urge the people to register, and to register now, but
by so doing we have cut the ground from under the chronic re
actionaries who have had so much to say, ever since the new law
was first agitated, about “depriving the people of the opportun
ity to registei.”
In the effort to find an opening for partisan criticism and
political capital, the reactionary newspapers have resorted to mis
representation of the plain terms of the law—for the law is abso
lutely simple and clear. The very extravagance of these misrep
resentations is sufficient evidence that they are born of partisan
contention and not of legitimate discussion of the merits of the
new law.
The most conspicuous of these misstatements are not only
false but foolish. They are false because the plain language of the
statute proves them so, and they are foolish because their falsity
is so easily established. In this instance the partisan politicians
are not dealing in airy charges, such as “Hoke Smith caused the
panic/* or “hostile legislation drove capital from the state,’’
but in charges which can be met with categorical directness by
the very letter of the law.
In a moment of frenzied zeal one of these organs asserted,
as vigorously and as directly as the English language could ex
press. that under the new law a citizen “MUST” register at the
time he pays his taxes, and, with feebler understanding but more
hysterical partisanship, his echo repeated and magnified the
charge.
The original sinner, who has evidently heard from a better
lawyer or a wiser politician, has hastened to “crawl” with what
he delights to term in others a “serene audacity.” Interpreting
the law for his readers, he had said: *
“THERE IS NO PROVISION FOR THE TAX PAYER TO
RETURN LATER AND REGISTER. HE MUST DO IT WHEN
HE PAYS HIS TAXES. SEE!”
But when jolted by a corresppndent with the question
whether he really means that “a man cannot register except
when he pays his taxes,” he says, “We answer, no; the law is
not clear; but in view of the confusion of tongues it is best to
do it.”
In other words he “explains” that he was merely giving
advice and not interpreting the law, after all. Having used the
strongest imperative in the English language, not once but sev
eral times, to show what a hardship the new law would work
by compelling the citizen to register when he pays his taxes, he
now tells us that when he said “must” he meant simply, in a
friendly sort of way, that the voter should do so-and-so to be
on the safe side!
In order that the people of Georgia may get the full force
of this blundering effort to discredit one of the wisest laws on
the statute books, we reproduce, from the original organ and
its echo, the very language used, with the original emphasis
conveyed by the types.
Says the original offender:
There is no provision for the taxpayer to return later and resister.
Xs must de It when he pays his taxes. Seer
Says the echo:
It is a duty whleh the citizen must perform in person AT THE
TIME WHEN HE PAYS HIS TAXib.
The citizen who may overlook the fact that he must register in
person at the time he pays his taxes, etc.
TIE CXTXXEir WHO DESIRES TO KE TACT TKE PBXVXX.EOE or
▼OTCTG. AND TO CAST HIS BALLOT CT THE ELECTIONS TO BE
OLD IM 1910, MUST SEE TO IT CT FEBBOX THAT HXS KAME
OOES UPON THE REGISTRATION BOOKS AT TKE TIME KE PATS
KIS TAXES.
Such, they were telling the people of Georgia, were the im
perative requirements of the law.
And yet, having been caught in this bold perversion of the
plain terms of the law —when asked if they really mean to say
that a man cannot register except when he pays his taxes, the
answer comes, “No.”
“Crawling away with the least noise possible” is indeed a
velvet footfall compared to this sensational somersault, under the
vigorous prodding of exposure.
The people of Georgia were given one entire editorial, top
of column, next to reading matter, rising in emphasis to bold
capitals, the verv essence and climax of which was that—
“THE CITIZEN WHO DESIRES TO RETAIN THE PRIVI
LEGE OF VOTING MUST SEE TO IT IN PERSON THAT HIS
NAME GOES UPON THE REGISTRATION BOOKS AT THE
TIME HE PAYS HIS TAXES.”
Caught with the goods on, it is not necessary to convict these
partisan politicians, but it enlightens the people as to the methods
which‘are being employed to prejudice this law in the minds of
the public.
The Parthian shot, fired by the retreating foe in his cloudy
“explanation,” in order to cover his humiliating exposure, is this:
“There la no provision,” as we said, “for the taxpayer to return
later and register.” This Is a fact.
This is net a fact, nor anything akin to it.
Under the terms of the law, the tax books close on December
20. and the law contemplates that every citizen shall have paid
his taxes before that time.
And yet there is a special “provision” in the registration law
that the voters’ list shall remain open ONE HUNDRED DAYS
LONGER, so that the citizen can “return and register.”
It is purely voluntary, and in strictness illegal, for the tax
collector to keep his tax books open after December 20.
And yet it is the plain “provision” of the registration law
that the voters’ list shall remain open one hundred days after
the tax books are legally closed.
Incidentally, as indicating the animus rather than the merit
of these assaults upon the law, emphasis is laid upon the fact
that the would-be voter “must go in person” to register.
Shameful What a hardship!
And yet will these partisan alarmists lay aside the tom-tom
long enough to tell us when it was ever possible for a man to
register except “in person”!
What piffle!
WE DESPAIR OF GETTING IT THROUGH THEIR HEADS
THAT UNDER THE OLD LAW A MAN COULD NOT HAVE
REGISTERED THIS YEAR FOR NEXT YEAR’S ELECTIONS,
WHILE UNDER THE NEW LAW HE CAN REGISTER NOW
FOR ALL THE ELECTIONS TO BE HELD NEXT YEAR.
As Dr. Johnson would say: “We have furnished you with
an argument, we cannot supply yg* with an understanding.’*
THE ATLANTA SEMI-WEEKLY JOURNAL, ATLANTA, GEORGIA, FRIDAY,* OCTOBER 8, 1902.
The Gallant Heroes
of the South;
It Is over, the gala day in Athens,
and the dear old "boys” of the 60s have
departed for their various homes, and
the tears unbidden start to my eyes as I
look upon them and realize that a great
many of the dear old faces I will never
see again.
Tuesday and Wednesday were golden
days in the history of Athens. Oh, how
each precious golden moment will be
treasured through the years to come.
I felt it to be such a great privilege
and honor to grasp the hand of dear old
comrades.
My comrades! Why? Were they not
my soldier-father’s comrades? Yes, in
deed, I claim them as comrades by birth
right; I have often wished I knew more
about my father’s service in the war. He
was a boy soldier, and was wounded in
his left lung while in service. After the
war was ended my father was married
twice and I being a child of the latter
union don’t know anything about his serv
ice, but we still have some relics of the
Confederate war, which I prize very
highly.
I have always loved the lost cause and
our dear soldiers with all the strength of
my warm Impulsive southern nature. 1
remember one time in school we were
reciting in history and it came my time
to recite where Stonewall Jackson was
wounded by one of his own men, and I
burst into tears and covered my face
with my books.
So, it is little wonder to me that as I
stood and looked upon that grand parade
of our dear old boys in gray that great
sobs shook my body and the tears were
coursing down my cheeks; lack of nerve,
I heard some one say, and that instead
of weeping and making our old heroes
feed sad I should be gay and feel proud
of them; do everything to make them
feel cheerful.
There isn’t a daughter in all the sunny
south who feels more pride in her noble
heroes. I am so thankful and proud that
I am a daughter of a Confederate hero.
As I stood upon our streets and looked
upon our noble "old lads” in gray, there
was such a wave of emotion and feeling
swept over my soul that I can’t express
my feelings. -
As the columns of the noble gray came
in view with each one bending beneath
the cycle of time (and perhaps before an
other reunion is held many will be cqt
down), I looked down the line and in
my mind's eye saw many pictures of the
long ago.
Come, dear readers, and follow me as
I paint the pictures which I saw in that
grand parade of the heroes in gray, and
you will weep too.
I could see the picture of a dear old
wife and mother as she gave up her hus
band and son for the Lost Cause, I could
soe how she clung to them in parting,
calling God’s blessing upon them and then
my picture carried me with father and
son upon the field of battle; they were
in different companies and, therefore,
were separated, and as I look I see the
son, who is only a mere boy, lying with
his white face upturned to the sky, and
his beautiful curls matted together with
his own life's blood, and hark! in fancy
I hear his parted lips murmur his moth
er’s name, or call gently for his little
sisters far away at home, and there today
in that far-away land that brave lad lies
in an unmarked grave, numbered with;
the unknown dead. I
That dear, heart-broken mother watched
and waited for years, hoping against hope
that her “George” was yet alive and
would return home; that dear old lady
has long Since passed away and let us
hope that "George,” her brave soldier
lad, was waiting her on the shore of eter
nity.
Friends, that soldier boy was my uncle;'
his father returned home after the war.
Now, as the strains of "Dixie Land” I
reach our ears we see still another pic- !
ture, in fancy I see a young bride as she
blds her gallant young soldier husband
farewell as he goes out upon the battle
field to win fame and glory for the Lost
Cause; and as I looked into the dear faces
I indeed realized that they had won it—
honor, glory and fame, which will be
handed down from generation to genera
tion.
I also found in these brave boys of the
sixties some who, when the battle call
came, plighted their troth with beautiful
maidens of the long ago, maidens who
waited patiently for the return of their j
lovers.
As one dear old comrade came neai
me in the march bearing a staff with
a pitiful small remnant of a once beau
tiful silken banner, I heard him say in
a loud, clear voice: "Friends, she doesn’t
look very well now, but she has been
a beauty in her day.” Ah. yes. that love
ly flag. I could see her lovely folds as she
flaunted in the morning breeze or waved
over sun-kissed valleys and beckoned her
brave followers on; gave strength to their
tired and weary feet. I love it, and who
shall dare chide me for weeping over our
dear old flag? I think these lines in the
beautiful poem which Mrs. Barskdale, of i
our city, wrote, so pretty:
“Your tattered flag, by hostile bullets J
torn.
Are faded by the touch of passing years.
But of their fadeless glory nought is
shorn, <
Preserve them well, they are embalmed .
in tears, *|
They may yet wave in peaceful triumphs
when we’re gone.”
And last, dear friends, but not least,'
the picture is not quite finished, the gal
lant old soldiers of the gray will all, I
soon pass over the river and rest under
the shade of the tree, and there answer
the roll call of the Great Commander in;
Chief.
As each dear old hero passed me I could'
only wave my handkerchief while I sob-1
bed like a child and am not ashamed of I
it, either.
If I never see another reunion of our!
dear old soldiers. I shall always treas-;
ure the memory of the Athens reunion. I
My piece will come late, but I am a
poor writer and hope every veteran that•
reads this can read between the lines, i
too, for my heart is full, whether I can ■
write it, or not.
It any of the dear oM veterans that
sees this in print and knew my father
in the war would kindly write to me.
Mrs. Minnie Ketter, 127 Mitchell street,
Athens, Ga.
My father was J. P. Hally, of Mad!-
son county, Ga., and I don't know, but I j
think he was of the 43d or 44th Georgia J
regiment.
My husband’s father was Joel Kettle, j
from Athens, Ga., 44th regiment, and '
we think 16th company.
We would like to hear from any old
comrades at any time. You are our (
comrades, too, we claim you by birth- '
right.
I have already taken up too much J
valuable space more I am afraid than will!
be allotted to me in the paper.
I hope, dear comrades, to again meet
you all at some time, but if not permit
ted to meet again on earth, our prayer to I
our heavenly Father Is that we shall all i
be reunited in one grand reunion, none
missing. Confederate, Sons and Daughters
of the Lost Cause over on the other i
shore. Lovingly,
MRS. MINNIE KETTLE.
127 Mitchell street, Atlanta, Ga.
Then There Was Silence
Mr. Brown (rushing excitedly into the i
room)—Marie, Marie, intelligence has
just reached me—
Mrs. Brown (calmly interrupting him) i
—Well, thank heaven, Henry.—Brook- .
lyn Life. 1
~l
—J—land now let the subject be dropped. Let
■ —'.LX !*'wr - — L sKT... , , „ 7 , ~ ■uß unite efforts for our common ssiva-
. 1 tlon. There are four of us, four compan-
• ' gl '' ' ~ 1 ■ ' ; ions, four friends, and all our lives are
-J , , 7 ' equally precious.
-atoL;' = —~ ' "’ x ~ ~~— | “We are all devoted to you,” said
. ~ , ~~~ ' I the doctor; “and your words come from
i_ ■■ ■ ' our hearts. But what do you think we
nu ■u - 4=_ i . should do?”
'" 41 ~ - “My opinion might appear Interested.”
1 r —~~ —1 sa,ld Hatteras, sadly. “Let me hear all
1 ~ 1 ~~~~~ ' —1 yours first.”
~ YA • 1 ~~~~ ,' r t 7 ‘Captain,” said Johnson, 'before pro-
J® Jm
By Jules Verne.
It was a bold project of Captain Hat-
1 teras to try to push his way to the North
Pole, and gain for England the glory
of its discovery. But he had struggled
I for nine months against currents and
tempests, shattering icebergs and break
ing through almost unsurmountable bar
riers.
In an unprecedented winter he had out
distanced all his predecessors and ac
complished half his task, when he saw
all his hopes blasted. The mutiny of
his worn-out crew had left him and his
little band of three men in a terrible
situation—helpless in an icy desert, 2,600
miles from their native land—their ship
a wreck, blown up by the mutineers.
However, the courage of Hatteras was
still undaunted. The three men which
were- left him were the best on board
his brig, and while they remained he
might venture to hope.
Os the Forward, the brig they had so
I carefully built, not a vestige remained.
Shapeless blackened fragments, twisted
bars of iron, cable ends still smoldering,
an* here and there in the atstance spiral
wreaths of smoke—that was all. Books,
instruments and precious collections
were In ashes.
I Clawbonny, the surgeon, and Johnson,
I the boatswain, surveyed the wreck. Bell,
’ the carpenter, lay insensible on the ice.
. Captain Hatteras stood apart, arms fold
' ed, his faithful dog beside him.
"Poor old brig!” exclaimed the doctor.
“I had grown attached to her. I loved
her as one loves a house where he has
spent a life-time.”
"Ay! It’s strange what a hold those
planks and beams get on a fellow’s
heart,” said Johnson.
"And the long-boat—la that burnt?”
asked the doctor.
“The mutineers carried it off.”
"And the pirogue?”
"Shivered into a thousand pieces!”
. "Then we have nothing but the HaJ
kett boat?”
“Yes, we have that still, thanks to
t your idea of taking it with you.”
“That isn’t much,” said the doctor.
"And we have a dying one to look
after.'’
"A dying man?”
‘Yes, Captain Altamont, an American
navigator, whose ship, the Porpoise, was
. stranded somewhere to the north. We
found him half starved and frozen on
the ice,” said the doctor.
Johnson muttered an exclamation of
pity. But his mind want back at once
to his own desperate situation.
j “Then we have no fuel whatever?”
! he said.
I “No.”
| “And no provisions?”
I "No.”
I “And no ship to make our way back to
I England?”
It required courage to face these gloomy
realities. After a moments’ silence, John
. son said again:
: "Well, at any rate we know exactly
’I how we stand. The first thing to be
done now is to make a hut, for we can’t
stay long exposed to this temperature.”
"Yes. but we must first revive Bell,"
replied the doctor. “Then go and find
the sledge, and get the American.”
; Bell lay on the Ice almost inanimate.
Johnson had to take vigorous measures
to rouse him, but at last, by dint of shak
ing and rubbing him with snow, he suc
iceeded.
I “Come, Bell,” he cried, "don’t give way
’like this. Exert yourself, my man; we
• must have a talk about our situation,
■ and we need a place to put our heads
in. Come and help me, Bell. You haven t
! forgotten how to make a snow hut, have
iyou? There is an iceberg all ready to
'hand; we’ve only got to hollow It out.
.Let’s set to work; we shall find that Is the
' best remedy for us.”
j Bell tried to shake off his torpor and
help his comrade, while Dr. Clawbonny
undertook to go and fetch the sledge and
the dogs.
“Will you go with him, captain?” asked
Johnson.
"No. my friend,” said Hatterad, in a
gentle tone, "If the doctor will kindly un
idertake the task. Before the day ends I
i must come to some resolution, and I need
to be alone to think. Go. Do meantime
'whatever you think best. I will deal with
!the future.”
Johnson went back to the doctor and
| said:
I "It’s very strange, but the captain
, seems quite to have got over his anger.
I I never heard him speak so gently be
fore.”
"So much the better,” said Clawbonny.
[ "Believe me, Johnson, that man can save
us yet.”
And drawing his hood as closely round
his head as possible, the doctor seized
his iron-tipped staff, and set out wlth
' out further delay.
Johnson and Bell commenced digging
a hole in the heart of a great block of
ice. It was not easy work, owing to the
! extreme hardness of the material. How
ever. this very hardness guaranteed the
solidity of the dwelling, and the further
their labors advanced the more they be
came sheltered.
Hatteras alternately paced up and
i down and stood motionless, evidently
shrinking from any app-nach to the
scene of the explosion.
’ In about an hour the docto> return
ed, bringing with him Altamont, the
‘American, on the sledge, wrapped up '
“The explosion of the Forward took
their last means of subsistence."
in the folds of the tent. The dogs were
so exhausted from starvation that they
could scarcely draw it along, and they
had begun to gnaw their harness.
While the hut was being dug out tho
doctor went foraging about, and had
the good fortune to find a little stove,
almost undamaged by the explosion. Hr.
restored it to working trim, and,
by the time the hut was completed, had
filled it with wood and got it lighted.
Before long it was roaring, and diffus
ing a genial warmth on all sides. ’
The American was brought in and
laid on blankets, and the four English
men seated themselves around the fire
to enjoy their scanty meal of biscuit
and hot tea, the last remains of the
provisions on the sledge. Not a word
was spoken by Hatteras, and the others
respected his silence.
When the meal was over, the doctor
rose and went out, making a sign to
Johnson to follow.
"Come, Johnson.” he said, “our goods
are scattered in all directions. We had
better pick them up as Yast as possible,
for the snow may fall at any moment,
and then it would be quite useless to
look for anything.”
"Don't let us lose a minute, then, ’
replied Johnson. “Fire and wood—
these are our chief wants.”
"Very well, you search one side and
I’ll take the other, and we’ll take from
the center to the circumference.”
This task occupied two hours, and
all they discovered was a little salt
meat, about 30 pounds of pemmican.
three sacks of biscuits, a small stock of
chocolate, five or six pounds of coffee,
picked up bean by beau off the ice.
Neither blankets, nor hammocks, nor
clothing, were found —all had been con
sumed in the devouring flame.
This slender store of P rOs ' iß1 °"“
would hardly last three we eks, and thej
had wood enough to supply the stove
for about the same time.
Captain Hatteras, with Bell and the
doctor, had been away on an exploring
expedition when tne meeting occurred.
The morning after the little had
built their snow house, he called John
son to him.
"Tell me all the particulars of the mu
tiny on the brig," he said.
"Well,” began the sailor, "almost im
mediately after your departure Shandon,
supported by the others, took command
of the ship. I couldn’t resist him. Snan
don made no attempt at discipline. He
made them believe that their privations
and toils were at an end. Economy was
entirely disregarded.
"A blazing fire was kept up in the stove,
and the men were allowed to eat and
drink all they wanted. Not only was ,ea
and coffee at their disposal, but all the
liquor.
"On men who had been so long deprived
of strong drink, you may guess the re
sult. They went on in this manner from
the 7th to the 15th of January.”
"And this was Shandon’s doing?” asked
Hatteras. .
"Yes, captain.”
"It was about the 24th or 25th of Janu
ary that they resolved to abandon the
ship. Their plan was to reach the west
coast of Baffins bay, and from thence tn
embark in the boat and follow the track
of the whalers, or to get to some of the
Greenland settlements on the eastern side.
Provisions were abundant, and the sick
men were so excited by the hope of return
that they were almost well.
"They began their preparations for de
parture by making a which they
were to draw themselves, as they had no
dogs. This was not ready till the 15th of
February, and I was always hoping for
your arrival, though I half dreaded it,
too, for you could have done nothing with
the men, and they would have massacred
you rather than remain on board.
“I tried my Influence on each one sep- ,
arately, remonstrating and reasoning with |
them, and pointing out the dangers they .
would encounter, and also the cowardice
of leaving you, but it was a mere waste
of words. Not even the best among them
would listen to me.
"Shandon was impatient to be off. and
fixed the 22d of February for starting.
The sledge and the beat were packed as
closely as possible with provisions and
spirits, and heaps of wood, to obtain
which they had hewed the brig down
to her water line. The last day the men
ran riot. They completely sacked the
ship, and in a drunken paroxysm Pen
and two or three others set it on fire. 1
fought and struggled against them, but
they threw me down and assailed me
with blows, and then the wretches, head
ed by Shandon, went off towards the !
east, and were soon out of sight
"I found myself alone on the burning |
ship, and what could I do? The fire hole
was completely blocked up with ice. I
had not a single drop of water! Two
days the forward struggled with the
flames, and you know the rest.”
A long silence followed the gloomy
recital, broken at length by Hatteras,
who said:
“Johnson, I thank you; you did all you
could to save my ship, but single-handed I
you could not resist. Again I thank you, 1
nouncing on such an important matter,
I wish to ask a question.”
“Ask It, then, Johnson.”
"You went out yesterday to ascertain
our exact position; well, Is the field drift
ing or stationary?”
"Perfectly stationary. It had not moved
since the last reckoning was made.
A discussion opened at once about
what to do. Hatteras wanted still to try
to reach the pole, as retreat seemed
equally impossible.
"We may find rich hunting grounds,”
he urged. "We know the route back is
! barren.”
The other three wouldn’t listen to such
a proposal and Hatteras was declaring
he would start for the pole alone, when
he felt a light touch on his arm. It was
Altamont, the American, who had crawl
i ed out of bed and managed to get on his
knees. He was trying to speak, but his
■ swollen Ups could scarcely make a sound,
i Hatteras went towards him, and watched
him so attentively that in a few min
, utes he made out a word that sounded
like Porpoise. Stooping over him he
asked:
"Is it the Porpoise?”
Altamont made a sign in the affirm
ative, and Hatteras went on with his
queries, now that he had found a elew.
"In these seas?”
The affirmative gesture was repeated.
"Is she in the north?”
"Yes."
I "Do you know her position F*
“Yes.”
. "Exactly?"
"Yes.”
; For a minute or so nothing more was
said, and the onlookers waited with pal
pitating hearts.
, | Then Hatteras spoke again.
"Listen to me. We must know ths
I exact position of our vessel. I will
count the degrees aloud, and you will
stop me when I come to the right one.”
The American assented by a motion of
I I the head, and Hatteras began:
"We’ll take the longitude first. One
hundred and five degrees? No? One
hundred and six degrees—lo7 degrees?
: It is to the west, I suppose?"
1 j "Yes," replied Altamont. ,
"Let us go on, then: 109 degrees, 110
I degrees, 112 degrees, 114 degrees, IIS
' degrees, 118 degrees. 120 degrees.”
[ “Yes,” interrupted the sick man.
’ • “One hundred and twenty degrees of
■ : longitude, and how many minutes? 1
1 will count.”
‘ Hatteras began at No. 1, and when
• he got to 15, Altamont made a sign to
i stop.
i' “Very good,” said Hatteras;” new lor
| the latitude. Are you listening? Eigh
ity degrees, 81 degrees, 82 degrees, 83
I ■ uegrees.” /
Again the sign to stop was made. •
i; "Now for the minutes: Five mtnue*.
i 10 minutes, 15 rpinutes, 20 minutes, 2*
[ I minutes, 30 minutes, 35 minutes.”
. [ Altamont stopped him once more, and
,; smiled feebly. z
j “You say, then, that the Porpoise is
■ in longitude 120 degrees 15 minutes, and
J latitude 83 aegrees and 35 minutes?"
I “Yes, ’ sighed the American, and fell
i back motionless in the doctor's arms,
i completely overpowered by the effort b*
I! had made.
"Friends!” exclaimed Hatteras; "you
see 1 was right. Our salvation lies In
deed in the north, always In the north.
We shall be saved!"
But the Joyous, exulting words had
hardly escaped his lips before a sudden
thought made h.s countenance change.
The serpent of Jeaiousy had stung
1 him, for his stranger was an American,
I and he had reached three degrees nearer
the pole than the ill-fated Forward.
By further patient questioning after
a rest, the dotetor soon ascertained that
the Porpoise was a three-mast Ameri
can snip, from New .York, wrecked on
' the ice. with provisions and combusti
bles in abundance on board.
Altamont and his crew had left* her two
months previously, taking the long boat
with them on a sledge. They intended
to get to Smiths sound and reach some
whaler that would take them bacx to
America; but one after another suc
cumbed to fatigue and illness, till only
Altamont ’••raa.’ned alive.
“Why had the Porpoise come so far
north?" Hatteras asked.
"She was Irresistibly driven there by
the ice.” Altamont replied, feebly.
Hatteras looked grim but said nothing
more.
"Well,” said the doctor, "it strikes me
that, instead of trying to get to Baffins
bay. our best plan would be to go in
| search of the Porpoise. It's a third
j nearer, and stocxed with everything
I necessary for winter quarters.”
I ”1 see no other course open to us,”
I replied Hatteras.
"If we start tomorrow,”, said the doc
tor, "we must reach the Porpoise by the
fifteenth of March, unless we mean to die
of starvation.”
No time was lost in getting ready to
start. A couch was laid on the sledge
for the American. The provisions did
I* not add much weight, and the wood was
piled up on top.
Continued in Next Issue,
