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T
^ WUfCTfOM
MIDSUMMER FICTION EDITION—TALES FOR EVERY TASTE AND MOOD.
VOLUME XLII—NUMBER TWENTY-ONE.
-5*
w.
X5he Fate of a Voice
Clifford Smyth
Written for CAo Sunny South
US. OAKLEY was proud of
her latesT social acquisition.
"Has ho not a superb
voice?'* she asked one of
her guests whose gold-
■■■QPMM chased, pearl-encrusted lor-
<ff) gnette, held !n Imperial
fashion before the steel-
/BnKwaTwk gray eyes, seemed aceus-
lla.E3 Jfit tomed to jweig'n jn the hal-
I'rtafHr* anoe and find wauling such
I W hapless denizens of gilded
| H drawing rooms as chanced
to pass within its critical
range.
"Yes, his voice is good. But beware;!
Gold in the voice does not mean gold in
the pocket. Your genius may garnish
the banquet table of his betters with the
truffle and aspic of his wit. but he is
compelled to sit down to a plain mess of
oread and porridge himself. The artistic
talent bears no aifinity to the talent or
shekels."
"But. my dear to.s. Faulkland, I assure
you this young man is quite an excep
tion. The gold of art can be mined, you
know. These things do have their com
mercial value.’’
"Yes, J dare> say; and it is the miner
who profits by it.’”
"Besides. ] know all about him." con
tinued Mrs. Oaktey. “Professor Fulmer
tells me his father is a. wealthy planter
in the southwest who has given his son a
thorough college education."
"But you don't really know this plant
er, and your knowledge of the son's ante
cedents is limited to the gossip of an old
professor."
Bertram Ganse, the subject of this col
loquy, had just finished his fourth encore.
Schubert's “Serenade” in its thrilling
Spanish version. He had carried his audi
tors with him on a tide if subtle emotion
produced by the sympathetic versatility
of a voice whose clear, swelling tones
seemed at one moment to touch the ;'ihim-
mering southern sky of which he sang,
only to be cast down in the next to a
hopeless Abandon of pain and despond
ency.
In addition to the power and caliber of
his voice, Bertram Ganse was endowed
with the physical presence and youthful
grace that would arouse the critical
spleen of the ever-censoriov.* Mrs. Faulk
land. Tall and broadly built, his finely
shaped head with Its c<-ear-cut features
and wealth of raven hair poised above a
full-throated, muscular neck; the mass-
lveness of the athlote was chastened by
Fne sprightlinoss of an Indwelling, aspir
ing spirit
Flushed from the triumph of his vocal
sirt. he stood talking witli Myra Oak
ley, a stately girl whose habitually calm
reserve was rarely ruffled Jo an expre-.
sion of more than casual interest in what
passed around her. hut whose intercourse
with Bertram was distinguishe’d by a gra
cious unbending of her customary de
meanor that evidently marked a bond of
friendly Intimacy between them.
"You are an idealist!”’ declared Myra
after listening to an enthusiastic word-
picture of the music of the future.
"Say, rather, I try to he. Idealism is
the breath of life that has created every
human masterpiece.”
"Yet. today there is no room for ideal
ism in art.”
“On the contrary, all art. whether of
tot ay or yestejday, is idealism. The ideal
ist merely views £iie concrete in its just
relation to the essential being that sur
rounds and creates it.”
"Perhaps that ,• why your singing puts
me in an attitude that recognizes ,-ome-
thing above and beyond the common
place. Indeed. 1 can never thank you
enough for the joy your ait has given
me, Bertram.”
“To hear you say so is a recompense,
an inspiration that lifts me above the
bitterest disappointments."
“You have disappointments?”
"Yes, so that hope becomes despair.”
"The opera?"
"The manager can find no place for
me. He gives no encouragement.”
The interest that Myra Oakley and her
mother took in him, their confidence in
his ability and success, was a stimulus
without which Bertram Ganse would have
succumbed before the disheartening fail
ures he had encountered in his effort to
find an opening in the musical world. A
year ago, when he left Corby, his native
Texan village, he had anticipated an
immediate recognition for the talent that
his friend. Professor Fulmer, had praised
so enthusiastically. IBs father, a hard
working farmer, had been unable to help
him financially except in the most spar
ing manner. The report of his wealth
that had reached Mrs. Oakley was with
out foundation. Farmer Ganse. tiiinougu
he had given his son a college education,
had done so through the most parsimo
nious management of the family expenses
in Ta&as. Bad luck had overtaken him
in the cattle business. A blight had de
stroyed his last cotton crop. Owing to
these successive failures Bertram's remit-
As He Sang—His Notes Louder Clearer
Free, Rollicking Sailor Life
Than at First—Something of the
Crept Into the Melody.
tances had slowly decreased until they
reached a complete standstill, and in their
place camp the paternal advice to return
to Corby and help recuperate the agricul
tural losses.
To this Bertram had not responded. ITe
moved to another part of the city in or
der that he might we out of reach of this
restraining Texan influence. With the so
cial fascinations that surrounded him. the
adulation that Ills musical talents won
him, and the romantic sympathy of so
beautiful tf girl as Myra Oakley, he
could not think seriously of a return to
his father's farm, which meant the aban
donment of a brilliant career that seemed
to be before him. Yet, the alternative,
to remain in New York, penniless, await
ing the decision of some operatic man
ager and occupying a false position
among his fashionable friends who might
discover his indigene"; this seemed repug
nant enough, although it was the course
upon which Bertram had entered.
How he lived from day to day he hardly
knew. His attic room in a -wviglug
house was denuded of every portable bit
of furniture, lie had parvr.ru everythin*,
that was available, practiced every kind
of ingenuity that abject penury suggests,
and he knew that the end, for good ox
bad, qould not lie far off.
To the physical sufferings entailed by his
privations was added the bitterness of
the insincere role that circumstances had
thrust upon him. The daily deception was
at first intolerable to Bertram. Custom,
however, was commencing to blunt his
sensibilities. The knowledge that the
doors of the woman he loved would close
on him should his poverty be known, ter
rified and then fascinated him. Would
her love be great enough to bridge the
gulf that loomed between them, he asl.ed
himself. The trial would come and ne
was eager and fearful of the aft.
He could not .help contrasting his per
plexity regarding this beautiful ereatrre
and the perfect V-ertainty with which joe
could count on the sympathy of the girl
he had left in Texas a year ago. But,
then, Lucy's was such a primitive, uncul
tivated nature'. She was the turquoise,
perfect, beautiful, changeless in Its frank
opacity; while Myra was the diamond,
many-faced, brilliant, perpetually radiat
ing new combinations of light and color.
When Bertram i'i-st reached New York
there had been an active correspondence
between himself and Lucy, who strove to
soften the bitterness of his disappoint
ments and entertained him with quaint
descriptions of the homely Texan life.
Then the letters became less frequent.
shorter, more formal, and finally ceased
altogether. Often, in his struggle with
adversity Bertram was tempted to renew
tills sweet old intimacy, longing for the
sympathy he knew was his whatever be-
fel him. But the thought of Myra in
voked silence. The quiet past of his own
people was far .otiiud him. Surrounded
and beset by the dark pitfalls of his pov
erty anil self-accusing hypocrisy, there
glittered before him the one absorbing
image of this beautiful woman for- whom
his life was cast gi a game of hazard.
It was a clear, evening in thre early
spring. The city square under the rays
of its lofty corona of electric lamps
gieamed like an unpolished jewel set in
the matrix of its native rock. Straight
and stark stood the variegated tulips
in their beds of forma] pattern. The
carefully, trimmed grass plots emitted
an odor of newly awakened vegetation;
while the fountain, lazily scattering its
sheen of rounded crystals, soothed the
eye and aroused an indolent gratitude
for these benefits of an artificial nature.
Along tlie asphalt walks. the iron
benches were crowded with people,
some listless and sullen as ^though from
an enforced idleness, some,.chatting to
gether in the enjoyment of a well-
earned siesta, and others joining the
romps of the children in their eager pur
suit of ball or hoop. Occasionally, a
party of stylishly dressed men and
women sauntered down the shaded
paths, glancing curiously at the .ani
mated scene; or a beggar, with doffed
hat, mumbling his misfortunes to the
indifferent benches, would pass back
and forth, gleaning a scanty harvest of
pennies. Among the latter class halted
an old- man. ragged cap in hand, his
white hair falling over his shoulders,
his fleecy heard hiding a frayed and
torn coat.
Apparently■ unaccustomed to- the> usages
of the professionr-l beggar, for a long
time ,h.- stood irresolute at the head of
the Walks radiating from tine fountain.
Finally, a slight shiver passing over his
bent frame, and striving to conceal his
repugnance, he approached the nearest
bench, silently holding his hat before its
occupants. Down the line he slowly
shambled, scarcely noticed by those to
whom he dumbly appealed for-alms, and
gathering, as a result of his efforts, a
pitiful tribute of two pennies.
Returning to the fountain, he gazed
at these tokens of a scant charity, sti
fling a passionate outcry that, seemed
CONTINUED ON LAST PAGE.
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Calling' of Captain Bwamirez
By Frank T. Sullen
Seventh of the Outdoor Series
*r • *1* • *r • *j* •-i* • ••£•••!•• *2* *s* • •S* • *i-• *1* • v »r *5* ••i**-i*«*!-«*S* -I-•-I-•-I-•-q-• *1-• %-e-i
HEN two whaleships meet
during a cruise, if there
are no signs of whales near,
an exchange of visits al
ways takes place. The two
captains foregather on
board one ship, the tw T o
chief mates on hoard tlie
other. While the officers
are thus enjoying them
selves, it is usual for the
boats’ crews to go forward
and while away the time
as host they can, such
visitors being always welcome. This prac
tice is called “gamming." and is fruitful
of some of the queerest yarns imaginable,
as these sea wanderers ransack their
memories for tales wherewith to make
the time pass pleasantly.
Dn the occasion of which I am writing,
our ship had met the Cora of Martha’s
Vineyard, off Nieuwe, and gamming had
set in immediately. One of the group
among whom 1 sat was a sturdy little
native of Guam, in the Ladrnne islands,
tlie picture of good humor, but as ugly as
a joss Being called unon for a song,
he laughingly excused himself on the
ground that iTis songs were caiculativl to
give a white man collywobbles; but if we
didn’t mind he would spin a "ruffor"
(yarn) instead. Carried unanimously—
and we lit fresh pipes as we composed
ourselves to hear of "The Calling of Cap
tain Ramirez." I reproduce the story in
a slightly more intelligible form than I
hoard it, the mixture of Spanish, Kanaka,
etc., being a gibberish not to be under
stood by any but those who have lived
among the polyglot crowd in a whaler.
"About fiften years ago now, as near
as I can reckon (for we don't keep much
a . c ount of time except we’re on monthly
wage). I was cruising the Kingsmills in
the old Salem, Captain Ramirez. They
t,,i,j me her name meant ‘Peace,’ and that
may be; but if so, all I can say is that
never was a ship worse named. Why,
there wasn’t ever any peace aboard of
her. Quiet there was, when the old man
was asleep, for nobody wanted birr,
wakened; but peace—well, I tell ye. boys,
she was Jest hell afloat. I‘ve been Ashing
now a good many years in yankee spout-
ers, and there's some blood boats among
'em, but never wag I so unlucky as
when I first set foot aboard the Salem.
Skipper was a Portugee from Flores,
comes o\er to the states as a nipper
and brung up In Rhode Island. Don’t
know and don't care how he got to ba
a skipper, hut I guess Jemmy Squarefoot
was his schoolmaster, for some of his
tricks wouldn’t, couldn't have been
thought of anywheres elese but down be
low. I ain't a-going to make ve all miser
able by telling you how he hazed us round
and starved us and tortured us, but you
can let your imagination loose if you
want to, and then you won't overhaul the
facts of his daily amusements.
"Well, I'd been with him about a year
when, as 1 said at first, we was cruising
the Kingsmills, never going too close in
because at that time the natives were
very savage, always fighting with each
other, but very glad of a chance to go
for a ship and kill and eat all hands.
Then again we had some Kanakas
aboard, and the skipper knew if they
got half a chance they would he over
board and off to the shore.
"Sperm whales wer? very plentiful, in
fact, they had been so all the cruise,
which was another proof to all of us who
the skipper was m on. with, for in nearly
every ship we gammed the crowd were
heart broken at their bad luck. However,
we'd only been a few days on the ground
when one morning we lowered for a
thundering big school or middling size
whales. We sailed in ful] butt and all
boats got fast. But no sooner was a
strain put on the lines than they all
parted like as if they were burnt. No
body there ever seen or heard of such a
tiling before. It fairly scared us all. for
we thought it was witchcraft, and some
of 'em said the skipper’s time was up
and his boss was rounding on him. Well,
we bent on again, seeond irons, as the
whales were all running anyhow, not
trying to get. away, and we all got fast
again. ’Twns no good at all; all parted
just the same as before. Well, we was
about the worse gallied lot of men you
ever sec We was that close to the ship
tiiat we knew the old man could see with
ills glasses everything that was going on.
Every one of us knew just about how
he was bearing it. but what could we
do? Well, boys, we didn't have much time
to serlilerquise, for uefore you could say
'knife' here he comes. Jumping, howling
mad. Right in among us he busted, and
oh! he did look like his old father Satan
on the rampage. He was in the bow of
his boat and he let drive at the first
whale he ran up against. Down went
the fish and pop went the line same as
before. Well, I've seen folks get r,tad
more'n a little, but never in all my fish
ing did ever I see anything like he showed
us then. I thought he’d a spiodeil all
into little pieces. Ho snatched off his
hat and tore It into ribbons with his
teeth; the rattle of Portugee hlasphemion
was like our old mincing-machine going
full keltcr, and the foam flew from
between his teeth like soapsuds.
"Suddenly he cooled down, all in a min
ute like, and said very quiet, ‘All aboard.’
We were all pretty well prepared for the
worst by this time, but I do think we
liked him less now than we did when he
was ramping around-—he looked a sight
more dangerous. However, we obeyed or
ders smart, as usual, but he was aboard
first My! how that boat of his just
flew. ’Twas like a. race for life.
"We were no sooner on board than we
hoisted boats and made them fast. Then
the skipper yelled, 'All hands lay aft.' Aft
we come profhpt, and ranged ourselves
across the quarter deck in front of where
he was prowling rack and forth like a
breeding tigress. -<s soon as we were a I!
aft he stopped, facing us, and spoke,
'Somebody aboard this ship's been trying
to work a jolt off on me by pisonin’ my
lines. Now I wgnt that man. so’s I can
kill him. slow; ’n J'm going to have him,
too, ’tliout waiting too long. Now I
think this ship's been too easy a berth
for all of you, but from this out until 1
have my rights on the man J want she's
a-going to be a patent hell. Make up yer
minds quick, for J tell yer no ship's crew
ever suffered what you're agoin' to suffer
till 1 get that man under my hands. Now
go.’
"When we got forrard we found the
fo'c's’le scuttle screwed up so's we
couldn’t get below. There was no shel
ter on deck from the blazing sun, the
hatches was battened so we couldn’t get
into the fore-hold, so we had to just
bear it. One man went aft to the scut
tle butt for a drink of water, and found
the spigot gone. The skipper saw him,
and says to him, 'You'll find plenty to
drink in the bar'l forrard,’ and you know
tile sort of liquor that's full of. Some
of us flung ourselves down on deck,
being dog tired as well as hungry and
thirsty, but he was forrard in a mitiuto
with both his shooting irons cocked. ‘I'p,
ye spawn, ’n git some exercise; yer’
gettin’ too fat 'n lazy,’ says lie. So we
trudged about praying that lie might drop
dead, but none of us willing as yet to
Tace certain death by defying him. The
blessed night came at last, and we were
able to get a little rest, he having gone
below, and the officers, though willing
enough to keep in with him at our ex
pense, not being had enough to drive us
ail night unless he was around to see it
done. Along 'about eight bells came the
steward, with a biscuit apiece for us and
a bucket of water—about half a pint each.
Wo were so starved and thirsty that the
bite and sup was a godsend. What made
things worse for us was the suspicion we
hjul one of the other. As I said, we
was, as usual, a mixed crowd and ready
to sell one another for a trifle. He knew
that, curse him. and reckoned with con
siderable certainty on getting hold of the
victim lie wanted. Well, the night passed
somehow, and when morning came he was
around again making us work, scouring
iron work bright, holy stoning decks,
scrubbing overside, as if our very lives
depended on the jobs being done full
pelt.
"We was drawing in pretty close to a
small group of islands, closer than we
had been yet in those waters, and we all
wondered what «-as in the wind. Sud
denly he gave orders to back the main-
yard and have .the dinghy lowered. She
was a tiny tuo of a craft, such as I
never saw carried i,. ont*ci a-.are, oni>
about big enough for three. A little
Scotchman and myself was ordered into
her, then to our amazement the old man
got in, shoved off. and headed her for the
opening Qjroug'h the reef surrounding the
biggest island of the group, i- t;*s fairly
well wooded with cocoanut trees and
low bushes, while, unlike any of the oth
er islets, there were several big rocks
Showing up through the vegetation in the
middle of it. We wem’t long getting
to the beach, where we Jumped out and
ran her up a piece so’s he could step out
dry. We waited for a minute or two
while he sat think.eg and looking straight
ahead of him at nothing. Presently he
jumped out and said to me. ‘Come,’ and
to Sandy, 'Stay here.’ OfT he went up
the beach and straight into the little
wood, just as if somebody was calling
him and he had to go. Apparently there
wasn't a living si jl on the whole island
except just us three. We had only got a
few yards into the bush when we came
to a little dip In \he ground, a sort of
valley. Just as we got to the bottom,
we suddenly found ourselves in the grip
ol' two Kanakas, the one that had hold
of the skipper being the biggest man I
ever saw. I made one wriggle, but my
man, who was holding my two arms be
hind my back, gave them a twist that
nearly wrenched them out of their sockets
and quieted me good.
"As for the skipper, he was trying to
call or speak, but although his moutn
worked no word came, and he looked
like death. The giant that had him flung
him on his face and lashed his wrists
behind him with a bit ol native fishline,
thin served his ankles the same. I was
tied next, but not so cruel as the skip
per, indeed, they didn’t seem to want to
hurt me. The two Kanakas now had a
sort of consultation by signs, neither or
them speaking a word. While they was
at it I noticed the big one was horribly
scarred all over his back and loins (they
was both naked except for a bit of a
grass belt) as well as crippled in his gait.
Presently they ceased their dumb motions
and came over to me. The big one opened
his mouth and pointed to where his
tongue had been, also to his right eye
socket, which was empty. Then he touch
ed the big white scars on his body, and
finally pointed to the skipper. Whole
books couldn't have explained his mean
ing better than l understood it then.
But what was coming? I declare I didn't
feel glad a bit at the thought that Cap
tain Ramirez was going to get his deserts
at last.
"Suddenly the giant lusted the skipper
on his shoulders as if he had been a baby,
and strode off across the valley toward
the massive heap of rocks, followed by
his comrade and myself. We turn- d
sharply round a sort of gate, composed
of three or four huge coral blocks bal
anced upon each other, and entered a
grotto or cave with a descending floor.
Over the pieces of rock with which the
ground was str< wed we stumbled onward
ni the dim light until we entered water
and splashed on through it for some dis
tance. Then, our eyes being by this time
used to the darkness, the general features
of the place could he made out.
"Communication with the sea was evi
dent, for the signs of the high water
mark could be seen on the walls of the
cave just above our heads. For a min
ute or so we remained perfectly still in
the midst of that dead silence so deep
that 1 fancied 1 could hear the shell fish
crawling on the bottom. Then I was
brought a few paces nearer the captain,
as he hung upon the gnat Kanaka’s
shoulder. Taking my eyes frotn his death
like face, I cast them down, and there,
almost at my feet, was one of those
enormous clams such as you see the
shells of thrown up on all these beaches
big as a child’s bath. Hardly had the
horrible truth dawned on me of what
was going to happen than it took place.
Lifting the skipper into an upright po
sition, the giant dropped him. feet first,
between the gaping shells of the big clam,
which, the moment It felt the touch, shut
them with a smash that must have
broken the skipper's legs. An awful waii
burst from him. the first sound he had
yet made. I have said he was brave, and
he was. too. although such a cruel vil
lain, but no,w he broke down and begged
hard for life. It may have been that the
Kanakas were deaf as well as dumb; at
any rate, for all sign of hearing they
showed, they were. He appealed to me,
hut 1 was as helpless as he, and my turn
was apparently now to come. But evi
dently the Kanakas were only carrying
out what they considered- to be payment
of a due debt, for after looking at him
fixedly for a while, during which 1 telt
tin- water rising round my knees, they
turned their backs on him and led me
away, l was glad to go, for his shrieks
and prayers were awful to hear, and 1
couldn't do anything.
“They led me to where they had first
caught us, made me fast to a tree and
left me. Overcome with fatigue and
hunger, T must have fainted, for when I
come to 1 found myself loose. lying on the
sand, and two or three of my shipmates
attended to me. As soon as I was able
to speak they asked me what had be
come of the skipper. Then it all rushed
back on me at once, and I told them
the dreadful story. They heard me in
utter silence, the mate saying at last;
‘Wall, sonny, it's a good job fer yew the
Kanakers made ye fast, or vew'd have
had a job ter clear yersef of murder.' And
so I thought now. However, as soon as
I was a hit rested and had something to
eat, I led them to the cave, keeping a
bright lookout meanwhile for a possible
attack by the Kanakas. Nonp appeared,
though, and the tide having fallen again
we had no difficulty in finding the skip
per. All that was left of him. that is,
for the sea scavengers had been busy
with him, so that he was a sight to re
member with a crawling at your stomach
till your dying day. He was still fast in
the grip of the clam, so it was decided to
leave him there and get on board again
at once.
“We did so unmolested, getting sail on
the ship as soon as we reached her, so as
to~ lose sight of that internal spot. But
TTs no use denying the fact that we all
felt glad the shipper was dead; some
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