Evening Star Newspaper, December 30, 1923, Page 62

Sailors Leave DéSertf'%Islah on F This is the last of a serles of 1 yemarkable articles relating the ! adventures of Chief Kenlon dur- 1ng his fourteen years as a sailor. Last week he told how, when ma- rooned on a desert island, one of the Crozet group in fhe Indian ocean, he had conceived the idea of making & concrete boat and how hé and the shipwrecked crew had buflt and successfully launch- ed the first reinforced concrete vessel ‘that wvas ever floated. -This was years before the application of this principle commereially or in the world war. After weeks of effort since the idea took form, which they. suspended only for three days of prayer and religious observance at Christmas time, all was made ready for the vital hazard of a dash into the open sea in their concrete boat. Their first objective was Possession Island, another of the Crozet group, thirty miles away, where a he of stores for shipwrecked crews was muintained by the Brit™h navy. Here the story continues By JOHN KENLON. HE next morning, three hours after sunrise, we set sail. We had & good from west mnor’ haved splendidly. about two hou landed safetly eession Island. The changp Bhip cove, on Bl breeze L The boat be- In seven hours, or before sunset, we in. Ship cove, Pos- from Hog Island to Possession Island, was a welcome one. The cove was much better sheltered, the beach far more inviting, and the stores, which we found on our arrival, a godsend. To-our delight, we found, biscuit. wmarmalade, jam, tea, coffee, soup bouillon (a luxury we had not known for months), underclothing, socks, outer garmernts, shoe: and caps. What pleased me most were a sextant, @ pocket compass, a small epitome of navigation tables and a watch. addition, there were some necessa articles of running gear, water in fact, most everything one could think of as needful to refit a crew of shipwrecked sailors. In addition to the above there were books, magazines and newspapers. The newspapers were of a date about three months prior to our arrival. Every bit of news was read and re- read. Imagine our astonishment to read in the ship news that our ship had been ted missing for months und eventually given up as lost. The announcement was almost in the nature of a man reading his own epitaph in a graveyard. Here we were, alive and hopeful, yvet our triends throughout the world gave us up for dead. A note which we found in the pro- vision cache revealed the fact that the place had been visited about six weeks before by a British naval cor- Vvetté; consequently we might not ex- Ppect another visit for nine months or a vear, perhaps, except perchance some whaling vessel or other wan- derer put in at Ship cove for water. In view of these circumstances, and our great desire to be reunited to civ- ilization, the decision was promptly made to for Australia withm a week. We calculated that with even ordinary good luck we should make Freemantle in three weeks. This gettled, we proceeded to make & fire and cook our evening meal. No feast, in ancient or modern times from Belshazzar to the monkey feasts’' of Newport, could equal in zest our first meal on Possession Island. Four or five days was spent at the cove. There was no reason why we should delay any longer, %o, on the fifth day, at sunrise. we put to sea, bidding a glad farewell to the bleak, barren Crozet Islands. Do as We Were s0 glad to leave them be- hind that I remember not & man look- ed back a5 the snow-clad peaks sank from view, nor to this day have I ever inquired how or by whom they were discovered: I do not even know wha nation claims sovereignty over them it is welcome to them. * ko ¥ E salled with a fair wind, double- redfed mainsail, and ~a reeted Jib. Under this rig we figured the boat would make gn . average of seven knots. The wind was strong from west ‘sou'west, and the sez was long and -true. ¢ Next morning. at ¥ o'clock I got the sun. ‘The sight worked up xave me longitude 54.30.15 ‘east. . Our position at noon ,was latitude 47.45.30 south longi- tude 55 east. The day's run gave us a falr idea of the speed of the boat. We were making a little over six knots. Of course, we could increase our speed to seven, and even eight, had we shaken out our reefs and carrled full sail, but we were taking no chances as we thought it best to follow the rule of safety first. A most vigilent lookout was main- tained all through the day and night for a passing ship; and no chances were taken of running on floating wreckage or anything of that kind that might cause injury to our pre- clous craft. On the fifth day the wind veered and came out pretty strong from the south'ard. Southerly winds in those latitudes are strong and harsh. The great expanse of ocean between the Cape of Good Hope and the latitude and longitude that we had reached, is usually travereed by very strong westerly gales. But we were ap- proaching the continent of Australia that, to a large extent, influences and changes the course of these air cur- rents, X This condition, however, brought us face to face with a nasty cross-sea. It was then more than ever that I ad- mived the sea-going qualities of the boat. She rose on each sea in grand style, rolled very little and positively shipped no water. We had covered about 1,600 miles of the distance at about 4 o'clock in the marning of the tenth day out from Possession Island, when the lookout reported “light astern.” All hands started up and looked in the direction indicated. We could clear- ly discern a red and a green light showing that a ship was coming up astern, steering practically the same course’ that we were. We had provideq ourselves with candles and crude lamps, and always had two or more of these lamps lighted at night. As the ship over- hauled us we raised a lamp where it could be clearly seen by the look- out on the ship astern. Presently we heard sharp orders given, while running gear coula be heard passing through the sheaves of the blocks as the sails were clewed up. A full- rigged ship, under lower topsails, came alongside. The officer of the watch hailed us. *““What vessel is that?" We answered back: “The Comet. What vessel are you?’ “The Lough “Where are you bound for®" “Melbourn By this time the officer on board of the larger ship could see that ours was & small boat, and he realized that he evidently was speaking with a crew of shipwrecked mariners. I told him that we had left Possession Island ten days before and were head- ing for Freemantle., He said: “I will stand by until daylight Don't you wish to come abroad?” * k X ¥ P to that time I believe each one of us unquestionably would have been glad of the opportunity of get- | Voyage b Y — Trip Towhrd Australia’ Fc)lllows_l\{onths of Vain Wai‘ting for Some Craft to Rescue Them After Shipwgeck—Captain Tells of Most Solemn Moment at Sea—Light in the Darkness Gives Men Hope Is Cénsidcrfi}éHoiv th§ Leader Becartie'a- New York Fireman. “We.would'like ‘to. come on board at dawn.” % Both vesdels ja@ged, along, we un* der our usual sail, the ship reduced to a maintopsail and jib. At daylight she rounded-to; we came up on.:her lee quiarters and lowered our main- sail and Jib; fenders were thrown out from the ship, our boat was made fast, and all hands jumped on board of the Lough E. In & féw minutes the Comet was droppeq astern and made fast by a good stroni,line; As"we stepped on"deck ' the crew of the Lough E gathered around us. We had not been shaved or shorn for more than eight months; there- fore, cach ome had & luxuriant growth of beard and hair flowing over - his” shoulders that would be the envy of many ‘a maidén. Withal, we looked 80 strange that many of the crew could not restrain themselves. They laughed and won- dered and laughed until the captain, @ very stern old British skipper, stamped his foot and checked them sharply. The captain requested me to fol- low him to the cabin. He asked my intentions. I told him that personally I should like to con- tinue on to Freemantle, but having in mind the dangers that would be- set a small boat at that season of the year, and in those particular lati- tudes, I was somewhat undecided. Besides, 1 had. after many Wweary months, found a°solid deck under my teet] comparative comfort and lux- ury around me in the cabin, and a splendid, well rigged, seaworthy ship. As 1 looked aloft, I cenfe: my heart started beating faster because of the fact that I was once more on the deck of a fine ship. The captain advised inst proceeding .n the boat. However, I did not decide until after consultation with other mem- bers of my crew. Fleming looked at me as I asked which he preferred, to go to Mel- bourne in the Lough E, or to con- tiune on the Freemantle in “the Com- et. 1 could detect a change in his eye. That blue, flashing Celtic eye was moist, and barely could he re- strain the tear that was ready to &ush forward. “Captain,” said he, “I am perfectly willing to accompany you alone to Freemantle in the Comet, if you desire. I hate to leave her. To me she is the best little ship that ever floated.” “Well, Fleming,” said 1, “that statement is more sentimental than Jogleal. 1, too, feel like going on, but still there are grave dangers in covering the 600 miles that lle be- tween us and our port of destination. There are dear ones pouring out their prayers to heaven that we may re- celve succor and rescue. is now ‘at -hand, and it seems we would do wrong to throw away the means that God has put In our path, a4 means of rescue that we all know to be a practical certainty, for one, however sentimental, that has its risks and probabilities. “However, in this case, I shall not force my judgment on my comrades. They. have been wise, true and loyal; therefore, each one shall express for himself just what he considers best to do.” i A REAKFAST over, I called my crew to the mast and, beginning with Jackson, I asked each one his opinion The rescue | i€ to Melbourne, l THE -OFFICER OF THE WATCH HAILED U “WHAT VESSEL IS THAT?” hesitancy, Jackson declared for stay- ing on board the ship and proceed- McCrae followed, then each one, in turn declared they would remain on board. Fleming had not spoken. to him, I asked: “What is your wish, Flemnig?" “May 1 ask a question, sir?" said he. Certainly.” o~ or, if he cannot tow her, if he will permit us to put slings around her, lift her on deck and take her to Australia?” 5 s The captain of the ship was listes ing to the gliestion. He said: should be delighted to bring your boat to Australia, but I cannot tow her. I am but fifty-one days out from Liverpool and believe I shall make a record passage; consequently, I-do not like to tow such a heavy boat astern. As to taking her on board, there is no place on deck that I can put her.” Fleming turned said “Captain, I shall accompany you in our boat, if you wish to procaed; you and 1" I thanked him for his loyalty and devotion to me, but felt that the mat- ter of sentiment should be subordi- nated to the safety of the men who had struggled through -all kinds of dangers and hardships. Therefore, T gave orders that the boat should be hauled alongside and all articles of food and clothing taken on board. The mainsail and Jib were furled, the boat was dropped astern, held fast by a sliq” line, one end of the line made fast t6 the ship's port and the other on her starboard quarter. My crew lined up aft. The captain of the Lough E held pne end of the line in his hand and before he cast it oft 1 turned away and so did the others. None of us could bear the sight of seeing the vessel that had carried us to safety cast adrift, in all qrobability to be driven and dashed to pieces on the rocky coast of Western Australia. 1 have seen men go aft Wwith the body of a dead comrade on skids to be consigned to thé waves. 1 know of no more solemn and heart-rend- ing sight than a burial at sea. The abandonment of the Comet was to to me and politely ‘|me even more sad and solemn than “MY CREW LINED UP AFT. THE CAPTAIN OF THE SHIP ‘LOUGH ting on board @& ship, but now that the ship ‘was actually present, each one,” particalarly the writer, hed & Iu;&n,t of reluctance u.:‘luvl-‘.. ca Tlittle craft that carri E’ HELD TEE END OF THE LINE IN HIS HAND.” as to what' he thought best to do. The - comfortable Hsartony dad hot coffes, and -‘withal, the fine"ship, had by this time toned dewn & gres ¥ anything that had happened in my life up to that time. I fairi would have kept her; she was inspired by God. But I had to bow to the in- evitable and leave her to her fate. * k% AFTER reaching Melbourne on the Lough B, 1 tried hard to find a vessel that would take me back home, to which, of course, I wrote a number of letters announcingemy safe return to civilization. As no opportunity. presented itself for shipping back_ to the United States or Ireland, I was offered 'a position as mate on a small trader between Australian ports and the South Sea , Islands, spending six months in this interesting trad The South Sea Isiands are {deat places for a tired mind snd body to recuperate. Just previous‘to my finding a ves- sel bound for 'England, I recelved some very sad news from home. My mother .fnformed ‘me that Marjorie no more, > s re was a dream shattered. .For daye 1 wandered in g state of pro- found depreéssion. d to rousé me. I began to think I would bound for the British Isles, and she ed away without my attempting to find a place on her. After several weeks of this impo- ‘|tent grief, my mind began to turn Turning | 0nce more toward New York. 1 had made certain . acquaintances .in : the American city who had shown me much kindness and sympathy, and my thoughts naturally turned to- ward them. f Early Return to Civilization—Decision of Crew When Fate of Their Own Vessel One day a fine clipper ship bound for San Francisco called in at the port of Sydney, and, acting on the impulse, I went aboard of her ahd applied for a position as “officer. There were no positions open at the time, but the commander of the ship, with the courtesy which seamen ex- tended toieach other in those da: offered to také me to San Francisco. (Arriving there, the author made the seven-day journey of that pe- viod across the continent to New York—Ed.) \ 1 had a_deep feeling of gratitude and delight in reaching New York again. Of all the cities I had seen this one had taken my fancy and ap- pealed to my imagination. The very first day I had seen the city I had been impressed by its wendrous har- bor, and the more I saw of New York, and compared it Wwith other ¢ities, the better I liked it. Something of First. COncr;e'te ~ told me that New York had & future for me. . 4 Again I found myself in the Ameri- can metropolis after thirteen years' oxperience at sea—in my twenty-sixth year. Once more I was debating the question as to how I would be able to leave the sea and obtain a suitable position on shore. The old saying “once a sailor always a sailor” seemed to be my fate; and Yet thers was & dotermination in my mind to seek other occupation. * * * K (QVE evening I was passing down Broadway below 14th street, in those days the fashionable part of town, when I chanced 4nto a theater to Witness a performance given by a famous Shakespearean actre: The house was crowded with a_well-dressed audlence and the performance was a most satisfactory and enjoyable one. Toward the end of the third act, one of those extraordinary happen- ings took place which often bring death In their train. At one of the most dramatic parts of the piece some one in the audience raised the awful cry of “fire A Instantly all was confusion. The sudience arose as one body and made ‘a wild dash for the front. exit. Intent on watching the men at work putting out the fire, I was ob- livious to my surroundings, but was suddenly brought to a realization of my position by heing knocked down and almost trampled. Although there- were several side exits, from which the people could have made their way in safety, every- body seemed determined to get out by the front door. Seeing an oppor- tunity, I made for one of the side exits. As I did so, I bumped into a man. Each of us drew back and ex- claimed involuntarily: “Beg pardon!" The recollection of this afterward made us both smile, but a¥ that mo- ment we were too tense for that. I said to him: “Come out this wa: and he followed me through the door. We found ourselves in a wide court. _———— Boat § The confusion in Broadway was ter- rific, for, although the theater-goers were out of actual danger, their minds were stil] filled with the dread of dis- aster and they were fighting to get away from the bullding as though it had been full of explosives. The horror of the spectacle, in which péople appeared converted into madmen performing acts that in nor- mal circumstances would not have Been credibls, stopped us. I grasped his arm and pointed. Look! They could all-have got out in two minutes. All they had to do was to_keep their heads and use the side doors.” “They" swered. We made our way along the street One of those rapid acquaintances common in such crises sprang up be- tween us. He suddenly remembered that he ought to hasten home. His mother and sister knew of his pres- ence at the theater. If they should hear of the panic before he came, they ‘would be seriously alarmed. ‘But,” he urged, “come home with meJ’ gone clean cras: EN we reached the house where he lived a great surprise awaited me. I was able at once to recognize his mother as one of that family which had embarked at Queenstown on the occasion of the voyage in the immi grant ship. Her recognition of my- self came just as quickly. “Were you not a passenger on t Lady Downshire?” was my first ques tion. She answered affirmatively, add- ing that she remembered me. “And how is little Kathleen?" I asked. “The ‘wild Irish rose’ every- body loved so aboard the ‘Lady Down- shire?” My friend's sister, after the word of introduction, had sat silent, her eves intently on my face. Now her mother, instead of answering me. smiled in the daughters dirsction There was a ripple of laughter and 1 saw that the mother was pointing at her daughter. This was the “little Kathleen." For a moment I was too astonished to'speak. Her brother, who was still tull of the excitement of the theater panic, began telllng about the scenes in the theater and outside. We were a while talking it all over. When 1 said good night it was with an invita tion to visit them again soon. 1 fully intended to! So in about the space of an hour of a single night my whole future life was suddenly shaped in two impor tant directions—in the two most im- portant to any man, the work he does and the home he returns to when his work is done. 1 quitted the sea for good and be came a New York fireman. To my fourteen years as a sallor succeeded thirty-six years as a fire fighter, in the coyrse of which I have been so fortunate as to become chief of the fire department of the city of New York and active head of the most capable fire-fighting force of any city of any country, I believe. But that story must come later—and shall. In the same hour of the same night owing to the casual meeting with man 1 had never seen before, réached another journey’s end; in this instance the one that the proverb de- scribes as the lovers’ meeting. It was not really long (although it seemed long ‘then) before Kathleen and T were engaged, then married. This has been the longest and hap- piest of my voyage: You see, we are sweethearts still. (Copyright, 1923.) 1 Stephen Leacock Talks on Value of Crime. WANT to lead 'a bold mational JO movement for. the abolition of the heroine out of our literature. In my opinion the time has come when this young woman has grown to be a nuisance. She just clutters fall our stories up. What I mean is this. Open any story of adventure or excitement or crime, and you find that it runs along admirably for a certain dis- tance, but just when it is getting exciting and worth while, in steps the heroine and spoils it. Let me give an example of what I mean. Every reader of up-to-date fiction will recognize the thing in a minute. Call the story: AFTER MIDNIGHT, or How the Heroine Spoils a Crime Story. * Now we begin. John Curbstone is a young bach- elor clubman of great wealth. He is a man of culture, being a graduate of Harvard University. (In all these stories Harvard is the best place to graduate them from. It sounds far better than the Minnesota Agricul- tural College.) He is a keen sports- man, because this enables him to wear the right kind of breeches for the lllustrator to use—shaped like a ham at the hips and tight at the knee. All Harvard graduates wear them. He playspolo, golf and bridge, would drink only brandy and soda if he could get hold of it and has one of those clean-shaven, aristo- cratic faces seen only in a democratic country. He lives—with a butler who doesn’t count and some servants who don't come into the story—in a large sand- l | l i l HN CURBSTONE stands motion- less in the center of thé room listening. There is absolute silence. There is no sound in the still house but the ticking of a clock. Then, as Curbstone listens intently, his ear just catches a faint sound from behind the closed door of a cupboard. The burglar must be there hidden be- hind the door! Curbstone draws his revolver from his hip (it was the re- volver that he had used that night for playing poker) and levels it full at the cupboard. “I shall count three,” he announced in clear, even tones, “and if you are not out of that cupboard then, I shall fire through the door.” Curbstone counted, still in clear, even tone: “One, two"—but just as he was going to say three. an agitated voice:ex- claimed, “Oh, please don't shoot.” the cupboard door opened and there step- ped out into the room A girl! Just think of it—a girl! And what makes it worse, only a mere slip of & girl! If it had been a big one—you know, one of those great, big, fine-looking ones, it would not have been.so bad, But this one is only a slip! She came forward toward John Curbstone, her large blue eyes dis tracted with apprehension. She was in evening dress, with a light peig- nolr or baignoire or boudoir thrown about her shoulders. “Please don't shoot,” she repeated (at this point in the story the fllustrator gets in his work apd doesn’t have to read any turther). Curbstone lowered his revolver. ‘So,” ke ,sald, sternly, “you sre a thief.” - The girl shuddered into her- If. The word séemed to sting’ her. stane_house on Riverside drive. This| family residence had belonged to Curbstone’s father before him, which shows that his family is an old one. TIndeed, the Curbstones have lived on that street for thirty years, which gives young ‘Curbstone a sense of noblesse oblige! toward the whole district up to 125th street. The scene is now laid. Returning home late one night from his club (he never leaves his club till it shuts), John realizes that his house has been burglarized. In the dining room the sideboard has been rudely broken open, appsrently with a jiminy. A glass still reeking ‘with ginger ale rests on top of it 3 open bottle, evidently opened with & $immy, is near.it. In the corner of the room the iron safe. has been forced, most likely with & jimmy. There is a litter of returning {2 She didn't mind breaking open Gurb- stone’s safe, but when she was called a “thief” she was stung. “I'm not a thief,” she panted. There! Let.us leave her a little, panting, while I talk about her. 1 have seen that girl come out of that cupboard and similar places so often. I know that just as soon as the man in the story opens & cupboard door or draws aside a curtain out comes “a slip of a girl.” He hears a noise in the attic. What is there? A girl. He hears some one in the cellar. Who is it? A girl. Who did it? A girl—a mere child! * ok % % 'OW what I say is that this kind of thing is ruining our best sto- ries. In the one I have just outlined when the cupboard door opened Curb- stone ought to have been confronted with something worth while—a bur- glar—a real one, with short-cropped hair under a low cap, with a dark lantern in one hand and a jimmy in the other. Then, when Curtstone said, sternly, “So, you are a thief,” the bur- glar could answer, “I sure am.” OFf better still, the door might open and three burglars come out, or even four, in short, & cupboardful of bur- glars. Even if it has to be a girl, why make her a “slip”? Why not let it read “There stepped out of the cup- board a great big giri about six feet high and at least scventeen inches around the neck." In any such case the adventure and excitement of the story could con- tinue. There could be a tremendous fight—in which, let ‘us hope, they might have killed Curbstone and sent him back to his club dead and so put him out of literature forever. But, it is understood that a man, or at least. a Harvard graduate, must not use force against a slip of a girl So, in default of a decent ending, the ! story has to run off into slush. Ending it up is quite simple; it would probably be done somewhat as foliows: “I'm not a thief,” she repeated. She looked at him for a minute proudly, defiantly; for she came of an old family just as proud as his. Her people had had the same summer cottage in the Adirondacks for six years running. John Curbstone looked at the girl calmly. “Miss Chetwynde,” he said. “if you are not a thief, will you kind- 1y tell me why you tried to rob my safe?” When he calls her “Miss Chet- wynde” this is meant as an indteation to the reader that Curbstene knows her. “Oh, how can I explain?’ exclaimed the girl wringing her hands, wouldn’t understand! You couldn't understand! I wanted the money 8o much! There is so much to do with money, 0 much suffering to alleviate! And you with your great wealth, you do nothing! Ask yourself,” she con- tinued, her volee thrilled with ear nestness, “what do you do for social | seryice, for sanitation, for refores tation, for the girl guides, for the Boy Scouts——" 2 | John Curbstone hung his head with |a groan. “Nothing,” he said. “This afternoon,” the girl went on “I came to your office.” I asked you for a hundred thousand dollars for the metropolitan police pienie, and you refused!” “Miss Chetwynde,” said Curbstone in the same clear, even tones that he hed used earlier, “I did not refuse. 1 asked you to marry me. It was you who did me the honor of refusal” “It maddened me," the girl went on “and I determined to take your money, ves, take it, and give it to the police. If ‘that is. stealing, 1 don’t care.” Then I came here to rob you. The police themselves lont me the §immy! Oh, it was madness, mad- ness—" She ‘paused. ' They were bpth silent for a moment. Then Curbstoneféach- «d_out and took her by the hand. J “Miss Chetwynde—Alice,” he said, “don’t’ you think we have both been = little wrong— ke She looked up timidly, John, dear,” she murmured. (Copyright, 1828.) ‘you “A little,’ Agent—When are you me_for that sewing m: Innocent’ Lady—Why, it would pay for itself in “a short