ONE OF THE OLD SAILOR'S YARNS.
BY W. J. HENDERSON.
t was a southeasterly morning before a rainy day. The world was a palette of low-toned grays, greens, and purples, with here and there a bright flash of golden-yellow where the sun's rays fell through a rift in the shifting clouds and touched the young grass. The sea was a greenish-gray, patterned with dark wrinkles and white scars of foam. There was yet no swell, for only a fresh breeze was blowing, and the sea had not made up. The sky was a vast tangle of gray and blue-black clouds, varying in shape from long wisps, through smokelike tufts, down to the verge of the southerly horizon, where there was a solid sheet of that hazy blue which marks the presence of rain. The clam fleet was galloping homeward with lifted sheets and bellying jibs. The fishermen were holding on till the last minute, with their light anchors down in six fathoms of water, and their green sea-skiffs dancing on the young windrows of salt spume. A Nova Scotia bark, apple-bowed, wall-sided, and square-sterned, was going out in tow of a squat and puffy tug. The bark had all her three-cornered staysails set, and two or three hands were aloft loosing the topsails, after the manner of men to whom a month more or less on a voyage is not to be considered.
The Old Sailor sat on the end of the pier and gazed at the bark. Ever and anon he bowed his head and shook with one of his hearty fits of silent laughter. Henry and George were standing on the shore opposite the pier, and they were certain that the bark had reminded their old friend of something interesting. So they walked out on the pier and sat down beside him.
"Here we are," said Henry.
"Yes, here we are," added George.
"W'ich the same bein' here," said the Old Sailor, gravely, "it are necessitous fur me to recommember somethin'." He paused for a moment, gazed at the bark, and said: "W'ich way are the wind?"
"Southeast," replied George.
"About south-s'utheast," said Henry.
"Werry good; werry good indeed," declared the Old Sailor, emphatically. "My son, w'en you grow up to be a man, w'ich the same you are a-doin' of at the rate o' twelve knots an hour, you'll be almost a good enough sailor fur to sail a cat-boat, w'ich I've knowed ossifers in the navy as couldn't do 't."
Again the Old Sailor paused and looked at the bark, and Henry was moved to say,
"Does she remind you of anything?"
"She do," answered the Old Sailor. "She reminds me o' the four-masted iron bark Lily o' the Walley, 'cos she don't look nothin' like her an' won't go half as fast. Lily o' the Walley were the name wot were painted acrost her starn in yaller letters, but she warn't generally called that. Her skipper were a werry respectable old seafarin' gent named Tom Crawley, an' seein' as how he were part owner o' the wessel, an' allus lived aboard o' her, even w'en she were in dry dock, she were knowed as the Uncle Tom's Cabin. Howsumever, she 'ain't got nothin' werry partickler fur to do with this 'ere yarn wot I'm a-tellin' ye. It are enough fur me to tell ye that I shipped aboard o' her as second mate fur the v'yage from Liverpool to Melbourne. We carried a werry miscellaneous cargo o' spellin'-books, sas'prilla, and cricket bats, all bein' intended fur to keep up a proper patriotic feelin' in England's distant colony.
"Waal," continued the Old Sailor, after a sweeping glance around the horizon, "the Uncle Tom's Cabin perceeded werry respectably on her way, an' Cap'n Tom Crawley sez he to me, sez he, one day, 'We're a-goin' fur to make a werry fast passidge to Melbourne.' W'ich the same I didn't say nothin', 'cos w'y, havin' bin to sea so long, I knowed ye never was in port till ye got your anchor down. Long Bill Smock, the fust mate, he were fur crackin' on sail all the time, an' byme-by the masts o' the ship were all buckled an' bent like a ole woman wot are spent her life over a wash-tub. Howsumever, that 'ain't got nothin' to do with this here yarn wot I'm a tellin' ye.
"One night, w'en we was sommers about half-way atwixt the Gold Coast an' Patagonia, it piped up from the south'ard an' east'ard, an' afore mornin' it were a-blowin' a hull gale. We shortened sail till we was hove to under a close-reefed main-torps'l, a bit o' spanker, an' a storm-jib. But, bless ye, it didn't do no good. The Uncle Tom's Cabin wallered in the sea like a hippopotamus in a menagerie tank, an' ye could hear the cricket bats in the hold knockin' the heads right off the bottles o' sas'prilla. The seas run so high that one time w'en the bark pitched bows under she stood right up straight on her head like she were a circus actor. Willum Wiley, wot were at the wheel, lost his grip, an' fell caplump down past all three o' the masts, slap over the knight-heads, an' into the water. But that werry same sea came aboard o' her, an' as she riz again, h'istin' her bow an' lowerin' her starn, Willum went floatin' along the deck down the other way, till he got back to the place where he started from, grabbed the wheel, an' went right on a-steerin', as ef nothin' had ever happened to him.
"Waal, about four o'clock the next arternoon," continued the Old Sailor, "the carpenter comes an' reports eight inches o' water in the hold, an' hands was ordered fur to man the pumps. We pumped her out, but the water come in again, an' this time it commenced fur to gain on the pumps. 'It aren't no use,' sez Long Bill Smock, sez he; 'her seams is all a-openin', an' we're jess tryin' to pump the South Atlantic back into itself.' The Cap'n he allowed that we'd got to drown, 'cos w'y all the boats was stove in, except the dingy, an' that wouldn't 'a' lived two minutes in sech a sea. So there we was a-goin' to the bottom sure, an' the nearest land 700 miles away, unless ye call the bottom land, an' that were 1700 fathom down.
HIRAM DUCK SAT ON THE FORETORPS'L-YARD AND WEPT.
"Waal, the blessed old barky were a-settlin' lower an' lower in the water every minute. Old Hiram Duck, the ship's carpenter, he climbed up to the foretorps'l-yard, an' set there with his legs hangin' over, while he wiped his eyes with a piece o' oakum, an' sang, werry solemn like:
"'Oh, fare ye well, my Mary Ann;
You'll nevermore see me;
I'm goin' fur to wed a mermaid
At the bottom o' the sea.'
"Long Bill Smock he were a-jumpin' up an' down in the waist o' the wessel, a-ringin' o' his hands an' sayin': 'Oh dear! oh dear! I'm sure the water's awful cold, an' I've got rheumatism now.' The Cap'n he didn't say a word, but jess kep' a-lookin' at the compass an' a-scratchin' his head. As fur me, I were the wust fool o' the hull lot, fur I yelled fur all hands to take to the riggin'. An' blow me fur pickles ef they didn't up an' do it. An' that are wot saved 'em, arter all. The Uncle Tom's Cabin went down an' down till the next sea rolled clean over her deck, an' ef them fellers hadn't been aloft, it 'd 'a' washed 'em all overboard. But jest then we heerd a tremenjis rumblin' an' roarin' under the sea, like there was a thunder-storm on the bottom, an' the Uncle Tom's Cabin stopped sinkin'."
The Old Sailor paused a moment to let the full meaning of this startling statement sink into the minds of his young hearers. He swept the horizon with his glance, and then continued:
"An' wot are more, she beginned fur to come up. There were somethin' under her a-shovin' her up. We could feel her shake an' tremble an' bump.
"'Sacred name of a poodle!' hollered Jean Bart, a French sailor, 'it are a whale!'
"Whale not'in'!' yells Jim Hall, a gentleman from the Bowery; 'she's struck a rock!'
"W'ich the same it were putty near true. 'Cos w'y, a rock had struck her. The bottom o' the sea had riz right up under her, an' pushed her right out o' the water. An' there she were, restin' comfortable atween two rocks, with a island about half a mile wide all around her, an' a ferogious surf a-breakin' onto it.
"'Breakers ahead! Breakers astarn! Geewollikins! Breakers all around!' yells Hiram Duck, from the foretorps'l-yard.
"'Lay down out o' that, ye lubber!' sez the Cap'n, sez he; 'don't ye see we're in dry dock? Get overboard an' see where the leak is.'
"So Hiram he tumbles down an' gets over the ship's side. An' as soon as he put his foot on the ground, he sez,
"'Wow; it are hot.'
"Then he looks around him, an' sets up another yaupin'.
"'Cap'n, Cap'n!' he yells, 'there's fish an' crabs an' lobsters all over the blessed island, an' every mother's son on 'em is cooked.'
"'In course they is,' sez the Cap'n, sez he, jess like he'd knowed all about it all the time; 'it were a earthquake down under the sea wot shoved this 'ere island up, an' the heat cooked them fish an' things. Stan' by to get 'em aboard there, some o' you, an' we'll have fresh fish an' lobster fur dinner.'
"Then the Cap'n he orders me fur to h'ist the ensign, w'ich the same I did. An' then the Cap'n sez he: 'I take possession o' this 'ere island in the name o' the United States o' Ameriky, an' I christens of it Crawley Island. Everybody give three cheers!'
"An' we give the cheers, an' then stood by fur to h'ist crabs an' lobsters aboard. Werry good. Hiram Duck he gits over the side, an' found the leaks easy enough; 'cos w'y, where the water were a-runnin' in when we was in the sea it were a-runnin' out all right now. Howsumever, it didn't seem to be no partiklar good fur to calk up the leaks, 'cos we was hung up on them rocks putty nigh a quarter o' a mile from the water, an' there weren't no way fur to git the bark afloat. But Cap'n Tom Crawley he sez, sez he: 'Git the water out o' her and calk up the leaks fust. Then we'll see ef we can't contrive some contraption fur gittin' her afloat.' Hiram Duck, bein' ship's carpenter, perposed as how we should take her masts out o' her, an' make rollers out o' 'em fur to run her down to the water. But the Cap'n sez he, 'You 'ain't told us how to h'ist her out from atwixt these 'ere rocks yet.' So Hiram he shet up like a clam wot'd bin stepped on.
"Waal, we was hung up there onto that island about two weeks, durin' w'ich time we got all the damidge done by the gale properly repaired. Havin' done so, the Cap'n he gives us a day off fur rest. About three o'clock in the arternoon o' that werry same day, all on a suddent we heered a tremenjis rumblin' an' roarin' under the island.
"'All aboard, quick!' yells the Cap'n.
"We all tumbled aboard the barky, an' none too soon. No sooner'd we done it than that there bloomin' island jest up an' sank right out from under the wessel, an' there we was afloat agin tight an' sound, an' with a fair wind. An' Cap'n Tom Crawley sez he to me, sez he, 'Ef ye was to live a hundred year that wouldn't happen to ye agin.' An' sez I to he, sez I, 'Cap'n Tom Crawley, I ain't sure it would ef I was to live 200 year.' An' so we dropped the subjeck."
Robertson. Kellogg. Parker. Harper.
THE HOTCHKISS SCHOOL GOLFERS.
The golf course at the Hotchkiss School, Lakeville, is somewhat more extended than that at Lawrenceville, described in these columns last week. A glance at the map on the next page will show that it is also somewhat more complicated. The first hole, however, is a comparatively easy one for a good player, although the inexperienced golfer will find the swamp and the brook somewhat unpleasant obstacles.
The second hole has only one hazard—a brook near the teeing-ground, which ought to be cleared easily on the drive, since it is on a considerably lower level. The third hole requires a sure drive on account of the zigzag wooden fence which runs along almost parallel with the course on the left, and frequently proves an unpleasant hazard for the novice. The fourth hole is on the top of a knoll, and a drive that is either too hard or too short will drop the ball in a bad position.
Between the fourth and fifth holes rises a large rock, but this is not so bad an obstacle as might be supposed, and may be driven over by any one with a little experience at the game. On the sixth hole there is a deep ditch or excavation which was made by the removal of some sand, and the ball that drops into this pit will cause the player to spend a considerable number of strokes to get it out. The putting green for this hole is on the top of a rocky mountain, and is very hard of approach, for when a ball hits a rocky side of the elevation it bounds back to a good distance.
The seventh hole is an easy one, the only obstacle being a good-sized mound with a small ditch back of it. The most difficult hole on the whole course, however, is the eighth. One of the principal dangers is that of going over the fence to the left, and there is also the chance of going over the fence which lies to the right, as the hole itself lies in a small lane between the two, and consequently considerable skill is necessary to place the ball in the proper position.
THE HOTCHKISS SCHOOL GOLF COURSE.
The last hole is by no means an easy one, either, inasmuch as there are a fence at the start, a brook just this side of the green, and a swamp on the further side. There has been a great deal of interest displayed in golf at Hotchkiss during the past year, and a large number of the students have taken up the game with energy. Some good scores have been made over the course, and doubtless next spring there will be a tournament to settle the championship of the school.
Athletics seem to be taking a new lease of life in Chicago, and the high-school sportsmen are developing an unusually clean and healthy spirit, the greatest evidence of which is their determination to overcome all the obstacles that lie in their way, and to try to do the best they can with such advantages as they have. The schoolboys made an application to the authorities of the University of Chicago for the use of the college gymnasium, but as this has been refused, a number of the schools have had to look elsewhere for training quarters.
The Englewood athletes have announced philosophically that they will do as they did two years ago—that is, they will train out in the street if they cannot get any other place. This is made necessary because Englewood has no gymnasium or any room in the school that can be used as such. Hyde Park High-School has, without exception, the best school gymnasium in the West, and will therefore probably not feel the deprivation of being forbidden the university gymnasium so much as will some of the other schools.
The Hyde Park gymnasium is not by any means large, but it is well equipped and has an excellent running track. South Division H.-S. will have to follow Englewood's heroic example by resorting to the public streets for training quarters, and mighty lively training quarters will they have, for two of the streets bounding the block on which the school is located have street railways running through them, and tracks are about to be laid through the street on which the school-house faces. The pupils of the school have gotten up a petition, which has been sent to the High-School Board, begging that a new school-house, more favorably located, and with greater conveniences (including a gymnasium, of course) be provided for them.
In regard to the facilities that the high-school boys of Chicago have for athletics, it is to be noted that a great many students who have gone out from the South Division H.-S. to other schools have won distinction on the teams of the latter, whereas the South Division teams very seldom achieve any success in athletics. The general opinion, consequently, is that, owing to the lack of facilities and advantages offered to the students of South Division, the teams which represent the school are not nearly so good as they might be under other circumstances.
What prompted the high-schools to petition the authorities of the university for the use of the gymnasium this year was that last year the schoolboys were allowed to train there between the hours of two and four in the afternoon, and a large number of young athletes from Hyde Park, Englewood, South Division, Chicago Manual, and even from Lake View, took advantage of the opportunity of working there, and as a result the athletic teams the next spring were all of an unusually high standard.
The reason given by the University of Chicago for refusing the use of the gymnasium to the schools this year is that there was too much crowding on the track by the runners, and that the galleries were kept too full of spectators. This is a very good reason, of course; but it would seem, nevertheless, that if the gymnasium was given up to the schools entirely between the hours of two and four, it could make no difference to the college men how much the school athletes crowded one another on the track, nor how many of their fellows congregated in the galleries to watch them. I can readily understand, however, that if the gymnasium was not entirely given up to the high-school lads—if the college men intended to use the track and the floor at the same time—there would naturally be a good deal of crowding, and the vigorous methods of the younger athletes would probably prove annoying to those who considered that the youngsters were intruders.
In a matter of this kind there should be no half-way business—that is, if the boys are to have the use of the gymnasium, they should have the unrestricted use of it; and the college men should keep away during those hours. If, however, the college men honestly believe that there is not time enough for all the college athletes to train, and at the same time allow the schoolboys to use the floor for a certain period each day, they are fully justified in refusing the use of their gymnasium.
It is to be regretted, however, that some kind of an arrangement cannot be made for the boys, for the college men must remember that by developing the young athletes they are bringing up material that will eventually go into the university teams, and prove of the greatest value and usefulness to them.
The skating-races of the Long Island Association for the championship of the League have been postponed, and will now not be held until possibly the first or second week in March. They will be held in the Clermont Avenue Rink, Brooklyn and the events to be contested are 220-yard dash and one-mile and three-mile races.
At the Boston A.A. in-door meeting, a week ago Saturday, there was a number of interscholastic entries, and several of the schoolboys did good work. There was a 40-yard novice race, in the final heat of which was H. C. Jones, of Exeter. The final heat was so close that the judges were unable to decide upon the winner, and it was necessary to run it off again. On the last attempt Jones won. The time was slow—5 sec. In the tie heat the time had been 4-4/5 sec.
In the mile run, E. W. Mills of Chauncy Hall School, who ran such a beautiful mile at the Madison Square in-door games last year, was pitted against Hjertberg, Orton, and Kilpatrick. The schoolboy started off quickly, and for four laps he led the field, with Hjertberg a good second. The latter then hit up the pace, passed Mills, and was never headed. Kilpatrick passed Mills on the tenth lap, but it was not until the last lap that Orton managed to get ahead of the Chauncy Hall runner. The time was 4 min. 36-4/5 sec.
The hurdle race was won by J. J. Peters, of Andover, with E. Cole, of Hopkinson's, second. There is excellent material among the Boston schools this year, and the interscholastic games ought to be the occasion of some record-breaking.
The National Interscholastic Games, which were held at the Columbia Oval last June, were a success so far as they could be when one considers all the disadvantages that the managers had to contend against. That was the first year of the association's existence, and the officers naturally had a great deal more work to do than they ever will have again, and a great many questions to decide at short notice without any experience to assist them toward these decisions. Several of the present officers of the association were connected with the management of the games last year, and they consequently know of several things that must be avoided, and of many others that should be looked after.
It is none too early now to begin to make plans for these games. One of the difficulties last year was that there was hardly time enough to do all that should have been done to make the games a striking success. Another trouble was that so many of the games of the various interscholastic associations were scheduled for so late a date that the national games had to be postponed until June 20, in order not to conflict with the other contests. It seems to me that a good thing to do this year, and it ought to be done as soon as possible, would be for the executive committee of the National Association to meet and decide upon a conditional date for the national games.
The secretaries of all the interscholastic associations of the country, or of all those that will probably send teams to the national games, should be informed of this proposed date, and the request should be made to them that their own games be held at least a week previous to the national event. It is more than probable that every association would endeavor, if it were a possible thing, to concede this much to the National Association, and to hold their local games at a date that would not conflict with the general event.
In New York the interscholastic games are held early in the month of May. The Long Island League follows about a week later. But in Boston, as well as in Philadelphia and in the Maine Association, the spring games usually come in the first week in June. It is at just about that time that, it would seem to me, the National Association would wish to have the big games in New York. These contests, to be successful, should be scheduled so that they would not interfere with the college examinations, and also so that they would not come too early in the season for the contestants.
In order not to interfere with the examinations, they ought not to be held any later than the first week in June, for the young men who participate in the games will need two or three weeks at least after the meeting to devote entirely to their studies. In order to gain the good-will and obtain the support of the older heads, the managers should do all they can to arrange matters so that the games will not interfere with school-work. There is no reason why they should interfere with school-work if properly managed.
The objection has been made that the national games added one more occasion to the many that already take up the time of the schoolboy athletes. This is perhaps true for the present; but I doubt if next year or thereafter it would be the case, because as soon as the schools become convinced that the national games are to be the most important of the year so far as scholastic athletics are concerned, the games of the several interscholastic associations will take a secondary position, and the school games of the institutions making up the interscholastic associations will fall into a third stage of importance, and probably fall away entirely. In other words, instead of having a series of school games leading up to the interscholastic games of the several leagues in various parts of the country, the schoolboy athletes will look upon their interscholastic meeting as a sort of trial heat for the national games instead of, as they have heretofore, a final heat to decide the supremacy of their own association.
The mere fact that at the national games the best athletes of the great centres will be pitted against one another is sufficient to make that occasion the most interesting and, beyond any question, the most important of the year. I do not believe that there should be so many track-athletic meetings as there have been in the past; I mean that I think it is a poor plan to have scholastic meetings open to members of schools belonging to the Interscholastic League, for the result soon comes to be that each scholastic meeting is practically an interscholastic event, and this may easily be seen by looking at the list of entries at these various scholastic games.
The best plan is to have each league hold its meeting, pick the first two men for a team to represent that league at the national games, and then let the national games be the decisive contest in track athletics for the year.