Evening Star Newspaper, August 2, 1925, Page 74

.8 Th \ THE SUNDAY STAR, WASHINGTON, D. (. e Good That Isin the Worst of Us BY DALE COLLINS Ce;pt. Whelan Was Hated by Every One, Even Himself. EFORE the tide between ghastly banks Panjermassa, Capt. ebbing of that} the mangrove- of the River Silas K. | Whelan of the brig Esmeralda. was known through the Malay Isles| as Bluenose, and that name was in- variably prefixed by an alliterative | and insulting epithet and usually fol- | lowed by another. He was a lonely | man, hating his fellows, hated. His harvest | the friendly titles of Capt. Kidd and | Moses, as the mood pleased life more complete of name. If these things are incredible it is only because there is something in-| <redible in this common humanity of | The Panjerma: comes down from the heart of the tide to meet the sea amid a waste of mangroves. At the flood-tide sea and river quarrel, wa ving in eddles, but with the ebb they | are one. At the moment when Cap'n | Whelan bared his soul there were | heavy, conflicting waters about the | brig.” The Esmeralda had discharged | her cargo in the form of blue-barreled | rifles and snub bullets and quiet had descended upon her. Cap'n Whelan, the bully, the hard | man, the bluenosed Nova Scotian relic of the days when the sea life was as hard as the ship's biscuits, sat aft with his mate in this hush of night. | Between them were glasses and a | bottle of gin. The talk was one-sided, | for the mate hated Whelan, who was | @ hard man, a sad man, a disappoint- | ed man—and such make poor masters and sorry friends. To love one must be lovable, and Cap'n Whelan was anything but that. | Once he had been a splendid figure of a man, but steamy heat and much uniced liquor had puffed him out to the weight of 230 pounds. The world | Jaughs at or hates a man so fat. It| did not laugh at Cap’n Whelan, since in living for himself he had galned | nothing but a sinister harshness. He had become a cruel mountain of a | man, and all the ports knew him as that, making it difficult for him to find mates. Rimington only stuck to him be- cause he had nothing else to stick to. Cap'n Whelan had nothing in the world save his brig and himself, for all that he was rising 50 and bad been busy in his own interests always. S! * x k ¥ “Y said Rimington, and “Yes! nodding and bored, while Cap'n “Vhelan boasted of the deal he had made over the living death supplied » His Holiness on the banks of Panjermassa. Rimington didn't care. | It was no concern of his. He got his pittance whether the deal was good or bad. Now as Whelan looked at his mate he rcalized that Rimington did not care a hang for what he said. And though the captain had guarded him self always behind self-concern, a &pear suddenly pierced through that unsure shield, and the tip of this spear dripped with a poison more bit- ter, more deadly, than any the Malays know. For Cap’'n Whelan—gross, gigantic, arrogant—discovered that _nobody cared if he did well or ill, that no- body rejoiced for his good trade with His Highness the Sultan, that nobody would mourn if blackwater fever took him tha: night. In the past he had | prided himself upon his Isolation, but | in that moment jt filled him with dis- | may so keen that the money in the | locker was dross, his pride crumbled to dust and a dead hand was at his heart. No man may live in communion with the sea and escape being a poet in the word’s true sense. The sea begets unrest and wisdom and dreams, no matter how gross a_man may be. Cap'n Whelan, having dwelt with the | mea all his days, had these things and they made his shield unsure. He burst out abruptly: “You, blarst vou, Rimington—what d'you care for hat I'm saying? You sit there, and You ‘ves’ and you ‘no’ me as I pay you to, but do you give a curse really? You don’t, mister—blarst you! | You sure hate me like all the rest.! You figure it out I don't give a hang for you, and that's for why you don’t need to give a hang for me. It's right enough, I guess, but I surely hate you for hating me, and so we get no for'arder—no for'arder, Rimington!" Rimington shifted uneasily, rubbed his jaw, averted his eyes from the red face which was not a good sight. “Don’t deny it, Rimington, because as 1 figure it out that'd be a lie added to your sins. -1 don’t blame you, no fashion. You're a dog like the rest of 'em, and what am I to you, and what should I be to you or to any one, | far that matter? Rimington, I'm 49, and not a soul in the world that gives a hoot for me, and not a | soul to blame but meself. You're| thinking I'm drunk, blarst you, but——" He stopped as though the muscles of his tongue had snapped. A sneer crept over his face. With an effort he spoke on, but his tones were harsh and monotonous again, as| though he didn't care: So 1 am— drunk. Forget it, Rimington, and if ever T hear you breathe a word of this drunk talk o’ mine I'll smash you 1o jelly.” Cap'n Whelan rose, clumsy as a bear, and rolled into the maw of the night, and there was swallowed, leav- ing Rimington gaping. “‘Flames!”” sald Mr. Rimington, who ‘was ever tongue-tied. e TT_was in this fashion that Cap'n Whelan came to be pacing the short, night-burdened deck of the brig ¥osmeralda when the tide in Pan]er-l massa began to ebb. He walked with @ heavy, swaggering step, as was his habit, but none could see the shadows on his face and none cared to read his mood saving only Mr. Rimington, With the reconciliation of river and sea a change took the night. The waters from the hills ran laugh- ing among the mangrove roots and slapping the black sides of the brig with merry hands. The Esmeralda swung slowly until her head was turned away from the sea and looked toward the island’s heart. Cap'n Whelan rolled along, his head | hanging down. Wrath against the world and against himself was in his heart. He greeted the ebb tide’s gift with curses, its arrival being an- nounced by a grinding blow upon the brig's side which omeneg badly for paint work. As his only possession Cap'n Whelan cherished the Esmer- alda. He went to the rail and peering down discerned, dim in the starshine, a canoe upon the sliding water. Its bow was against the paint work doing mischief. This half-guessed visitor be- came the object on which Cap'n Whel- an vented his general dissatisfaction with life. “Fend that canoe off, you swine!” he roared in Malay. But the canoe remained and there Was no answer. At this insolence the veins in Cap'n Whelan's neck stood up and he bellowed: “Show that lantern here, mister—look lively!” Also he laid his hand upon an iron pin. While the light came jerking along like a ghost the canoe stabbed at the brig and every touch struck upon the heart of the man who owned so little. His hands clenched about #ge pin and he was eager for the light to show | the target. ‘What's up asked Rimington, holding the lantern at arm’s length. An uncertain arc of radiance fell upon the hurrying water. The canoe's bow | was wedged boetween the short com- | anion ladder and the side. But Cap'n Whelan did not throw the iron pin. He dropped it upon the 1 than the change | done, | visible stairs. deck and when that clatter had sub- sided there was a breathless pause | during which the skipper's Jaw hung down on his neck and the mate gaped. Cap'n Whelan was asking: “How did_that come there, mister? Rimington shook his head stupidly. “Flames!" said he. The current took a firmer grip upon he stubborn outrigger and was about to jerk it out of the little world of the sea, when Cap'n Whelan sprang pant with clumsy the canoe oblivion. e Slowly and cautiou were made of lead and his bones of glass, Cap'n Whelan climbed back and stood upon the Esmeralda’s dec with a queer soft bundle in his arms from which emerged a downy bullet head busy upon a wail of terror. ! explained Cap'n “Baby—young ‘un! Whelan, helpfully. Rimington held the lantern high, that they might inspect this amazing thing. The trinity were stilled for a moment in the glow—the vast, bloated skipper; the thin, weary mate; b tween them the babe with its rose. leaf face, crinkled In misery and gemmed with tears, its rose-leaf hands beating the air, its feet climbing in- Consternation was the note in the attitude of the care. Its mission went cheerfully sly, as if his feet dominant two men, but to this, in the case of | Cap’n Whelan, was added terror lest | he should drop that bundle. His arms tied into surprising knots to pre vent such a thing. For a space of minutes neither spoke, but the baby's thin wail held possession of the night. Then: “Flames! “‘Mister, I be blowed! In these words there was'a volume of meaning. They stooped lower, in specting the baby closely, as if they feared it might be a fake or that it would dwindle into air. The baby was very real and it showed no signs of dwindling, but kicked and wept. “Like a blarsted little warm, soft worm,"” said the skipper, when he had time to decide that much and then he added, striving to keep his volce gruff and natural: “Feels like it hadn't a bone in its little body, but wriggles like'n eel. It certainly does. Sa soft, too—a young 'un!" * X ok K NHABITANTS of Mars discovering mankind could ndt have been more surprised and enthralled. They studied it, they scarcely breathed. The baby, finding even that strange clasp more comforting than a wet and worred canoe, grew easier. “What does it want coming here? We'll have to get rid o' this mighty quick, mister!” Cap'n Whelan made this announcement in an awed man- ner, for the awful responsibility had suddenly occurred to him. “Can’t be keeping bables on the Esmeralda— | curse the little pest!” They grinned together at the in- congruity of a baby on the brig, but they were nervous and self-conscious as if the child had brought with it a large audience which watched them from an invisible theater. “What'll we do with it, mister?” The question was put solemnly. It seemed there were many ways out of the position, and the only problem was which would be most satisfac- tory; it seemed that it was possible | to press a button and nurse and nursery would evolve to take charge of that little white babe on the River Panjermassa. The mate failed to find any of the suggestions which his master needed and at that moment a small hand went up toward the skipper and grip- ped his moist stub of beard in a man- ner suggestive of possession which was _conqueringly appealing and struck Cap'n Whelan as little short of miraculous. He laughed in the foolish fashion of a man delighted at a child's favor. Well, T'll be he cried. “Did ever y’ see anything that cute! I do believe it's taken a reg'lar fancy to me. Seems like as if it reckons on having an option over me.” Unconsclous pride was in his voice and he was puffed up like a pouter pigeon. Surprising things were happening in the heart of that lonely man who had no kith, nq friends, hothing on which to lavish' love save a wooden brig. Perhaps, after all, the upheaval within Cap’n Whelan was not sur- | the prising at all—perhaps it was most natural thing in the world. He was recalled to realities by a lunging kick, which was nearly his undoing, for 'his grasp had slackened. He tightened it again to a bear hug of concern, whereupon the rose-leaf face was troubled once more and thg soft mouth trembled. “It's off ‘again!” ejaculated Cap'n Whelan, and he was right. On impulse inherited from fathers back to Adam, Bluenose swung hjs arms in a rocking motion and walked the deck like any dutiful suburban husband, while the inscrutable eyes of a Dyak crew followed him and the River Panjermassa—uncharted, un- known—laughed. ““Hush,” said he, and repeated this | o0dd lullaby with such reverent fervor that it was softened to a prayer. Mr. Mate walked behind as a humble slave, swinging the lantern, marvel ing. The cries ceased, went on. Have to keep it aboard tonight, T guess,” whispered Cap'n Whelan, con but the walk VISITOR STEPPED ABOARD WITH A CRY ON HER LIPS: to | ) cerned and hushed. seek ont its folk” Flames, yes!” agreed the mate in the same conspiratorial tones. They were anxious, /bemused men. The ebb-tide ran merrily to the ever young mother, the se. | * % x | it neat of midatternoon held the | | | “Forenoon we'll | world. Sea, stream and sky, brig, from that ebb-tide included | light into the immense darkness of | mangroves and village were empty of life, burned numb. The dazzling light | those | heavily ‘down the ladder, grasped the | Slazed everything. setting all creation who spoke of him, and a change in | cance and lifted out .the only occu-in 8l The pitch was sticky in the | deck’s seams. | Beneath an awning spread amid- | hips Cap'n Whelan sprawled in a | battered cane chair, his face flooded | with sweat. his heavy body inert. On | any other afternoon at that hour in | that stifling estuary he would have | been asleep, but sleep was far from | | him because his mind was syrpris: | ingly active. The innocent cause of this transformation slumbered scan- | tily covered in a hastily contrived | canvas cot. That harsh man, that hard man Cap'n Silas K. Whelan was very much ‘ occupled with his thoughts. Pres. | ently the mate would return from his | mission and they would know how | the baby had to be disposed of, but | | until then he was in sole possession. | Despite the heat he felt strangely alive as he looked at the round little | body crumpled on the canvas. Few Cap’n Whelan, who had been so selfish He owned a brig, but naught besides—no hearth, no | no friends, no household goods. folk He was the man who had sought to | stand alone, and in succeeding realized | that his triumph was as ashes. | | “Getting on, getting on.” he mused | “and nothing to show—not a~—thing. | A man’s lonely most of the times, | |and when he's old there'll be none to | | glve an eye to, none to go on living | like: in none'll care scientiously. | when ! i “That kid now, that young 'un— he’s dead there'll be | like.” He swore con-| when 1'm 70 he'll be 20, just starting | on his prime, full o' life, full o’ hope. | And when I'm 80 he'll be 30 and at his best. A man could go on being ounglike a long time if he had a oung ‘un llke that to sweat for. He | could—that's so!” | "He nodded his head several times like a clockwork giant and spat across the deck and over the rail. He swore | meditatively, his goggling eyes fixed | | on the babe’ that had so much of life | | before him, and men who have kept | other interests in their lives besides | themselves would not believe how | hungry were his eyes. A brig, be she | ever so light-heeled, can’t compensate | for the simple things most folk have. | Cap'n Whelan sat through long, hot | | hours and proceeded stolidly with the | discoveries which had begun when he | bared his soul to Mr. Rimington be- | fore the ebbing of the tide. And the investigator of 49 who finds such bit- ter knowledge must be saddened | though he be harsh as the sea. When the burnished sun was low above the mangroves the world |awakened as though at a signal. A | breeze, new born, stole in frofh the | sea, rufing the silver mirror of Pan- jermassa. The rigging sighed. A |flock of parrakeets streamed above, | | chattering brokenly. Completing the | resurrection, the Esmerald's dinghy | nosed out from the bank and swam |like a water beetle toward her. But Cap'’n Whelan was not con- | scious of these things until the mate | stood before him. He sat up with a | start as though he had. been asleep, | when, indeed, he had been dreaming onl | “Well, mister?" | The mate, looking weary and out of | | temper, shook his head. | “Dunno what we're going to do about it,” he said. “Can’t get a trace | of where the kid comes from—only | one white family up the river and | | they're Duten, have mo children and | 1dxdn't know there was such a thing | | as a baby on the island. Sultan’s had runners out all day, but never a clue. Looks like as if that kid's been kinder wished on us—dropped out of Heaven! What do you plan doing? At this report the skipper sat for- ward, but he did not seem chagrined or dismayed. He was puzzled, in- credulous. . No one to claim him?” | “Not a single—!" said the mate | with emphatic finality, and because |he was not 49 and had not come to | the wisdom of the master his manner | was concerned. The big man’s face was enfgmatic as Buddha's, but there were chuckles rumbling Somewhere beneath his fat. “Don’t look so surprised, mister,” he urged, and his tone surprised th mate. “He's salvage, that's what he surely is! We just gotter do what we can for him, and he can’t complain if things are a bit rough. Dog-gone, he sure has a taste for water. I give him his bath, yves, sir!—and you'd have laughed to see him. Guess he'll man- | age right enough——" “You're not figuring on taking him | with us?"—this a disbelieving protest. | “Say, are you the master and owner |0 this brig? That's just the veryi thing I am figuring on doing, and just what I'm going to do. He stops along o’ us. What d’ you reckon on—get- ting another canoe and sending him |out to sea?® “No—flames—no!” the mate admit- | ted. { “Wel, then!" | They regarded the baby in silence | for a space, both finding ample food | for thought. Then Cap’n Whelan | | stood up. ¢ “Can’t say I see that condensed milk i 1 y i ALY “CAPTAIN! CAPTAIN! YOU'VE A BABY ABOARD!” [right,” he declared. | kicked his | ply of milk. | clouds. is the very best thing for a-rearing up a nipper on,” quoth he sagely. When the brig Esmeralda went out of the River Panjermassa on the ebb- ing tide she carried two new passen- gers, the second being a goat that had been parted from her kid. * K ok % IN saner latitudes it could not have happened, but between 10 north and 10 south the laws of probability do not run. Dbe attributed the fact that the babe did not die, that it even prospered on a diet of goat's milk and suffered no harm from being tended and bathed by hands as rough as rock for all they Jooked upon the object of their min- istrations as made of some substance more fragile than glass and more pre- clous than gold. . That was the miracle; the child's happy .acceptance of the chances of life aboard the Esmeralda. little that was strange, really, in its continued presence there. God, fate, chance—whatever name is given to the weaver beyond the stars—had pre- pared the way. Cap'n Whelan had no sooner looked into his hands and dis-| covered how utterly empty they were than he fouud them occupled, fully occupfed, with a baby. He was the | happler and the better for that, and! he had no intention of foregoing the gift of the tide. The man who had men come to 49 as emptyhanded as | suppressed and stunted himself had a | lavish store of love to Westow upon the feeble thing that had clutched his beard and heart. The outlet awoke new currents in him and opened the vk places of his soul to the healing sunlight. The brig went into Singapore, and here the talk began among the sail- ors—short, disjointed, oathful sen- tences in which they grappled at some- thing beyond their knowledge. “What's happened the old man?’ one asked of Remington in the lounge of the Hotel van Wijck. “Met him this morning and he seemed like a—hu- man being, and happy as though he'd won the Calcutta sweep. Rimington smiled. 'Old man’s all “I get on real well with him. He's all right underneath. 1t any says anything else, he's got rats, I'll tell you!” The tone of this statement and the warmth with which it was given surprised its hearer. And ‘then another, the skipper of a crazy coolie steamer running to Swa- tow, dropped in. “‘Here,” sald the newcomer, “what'’s this about a baby you got aboard the Esmer? They say the kid's worked the trick on Bluenose properly.” Rimington, shifting uneasily because he had something to express which ‘was not tangible. ““Yes, we gotter kid aboard, name of Samuel—salvage hc is, yes! He come alongside one night per cance.” And he told them the tale. “Can't say I know much mbout voungsters, but he's the goods, I teli | you.” “I'd ha' thought old Bluenose would have drowned him.” “Well, you'd have thought wrong. The way I figure it out old Whelan was pretty lonely as it iere, you know, and then this kid comes along, and * He paused with a gesture | eloquent of the difficulty of expressing these thing: nyway, this kid comes along and I'd say he got him— got him good and hard. Suppose a man begins to feel mighty lonely round about 50, and no one in the world to give a curse for him— flame: That, then, was the way of since gossip travels quickly men who spend their liquor between them, the news of Cap'n Whelan's baby spread from ship to ship. It caused some laughter, but there was nothing in this laughter to give offense. It became a habit to drift out to the Esmeralda to be- hold the wonder, and when they saw Cap'n Silas K. Whelan, the Bluenose, with that baby a new light came into their eves, for—and this is truth— the only arrant sentimentalists left in this practical world are the lonely men of the ships. The change in Cap'n Whelan had nothing of the dramatic completeness of a revivalist conversion. He still swore, still drove hard bargains, still crew. still did mysterious missions on which the law frowned, but the change went deeper than these among leisure with things and let his humanity, his heart, | be seen. Thus he ceased to be the adjectival Bluenose, and rffen called him Moses from some inversion of his boast that he had found the babe even as the infant prophet had been found. Also, | they named the Esmeralda Capt. Kid's brig, because there was no doubt that a kid was her real master, and this name, too, came to be attached to the | man who had only been the—unmen- tionable—Bluenose. Christenings did not stop there; the | baby itself had to have a name. Samuel had been the choice. All this was a matter of time, of course, and there were many problems to be overcome in addition to the sup- But in every port there were women who were eager to advise and help. It was in the Straits of Makassar after Samuel, eight months older than the night the ebb-tide had brought him, had been rescued from falling overboard, that Cap'm Whelan made a public statement of his feelings. His face was as lard at the thought of what might have been. “That kid Dbrought life to me when for 30 years I'd been dead as Columbus. If T lost him now—say, there'd be no use me trying to go on living!" 3 * ok ok % SHIND the little village which sleamed amid jungle greenery, the volcano rose like an old man puffing a pipe, its head swathed in This stern guardian gave a depressing note to the beauty of Sour- alenleng. “Rum place, T'll tell the world,” commented Cap’'n Whelan when the anchor was down. The mate agreed with him. They stood lookihg at the, queer, tiny port with interest. A fat Dutch- man came off in a launch and inspect- ed the ship's papers, drank a gin and admired the baby. Having grunted about for a time he went back to his | launch. For'ard the cook was busy in the galley, for it was noon, and the mid- day meal prepared. The lounging men watched the plume of smoke drifting from the peak and suddenly Cap'n Whelan shivered. “Fever?” the mate asked. o—cold! This is a rum place His eyes were clouded. ‘““The -Dutchie’s coming off again,” Rimington remarked, and he also was conscious of something in the air of Souralenleng which he dld not like. They watched the launch import- antly fussing out with the sun strik- ing diamonds from its brass, and they wondered idly what its mission could be. s “Funny,” sald Rimington, shading his eyes, “there’s a woman aboard.” ‘Yes,™ the skipper agreed with odd reluctance, ‘yes—a woman, Guess she wants to see Samuel.”” And that surmise was correct. The visitor stepped aboard with a cry on her lips: ‘“‘Captain! Captain! You've a baby aboard?"” “Yes, ma’am,” said the skipper. She was a little woman. The trop- ics had stolen the bloom from her cheeks, but her eyes were blue as cornflowers and golden lights' were in her hair. Her figure was neat, though To nothing save this can | There was | it, and | AUGUST 2, tension held her stiffly at the moment. She was a pleasant, sweet little wom- an and her mouth was wistful. - “Is it—is it your baby?" she asked, | such appeal in her that she might | have been praying to the big sea- | tarer. | | “Yes, ma'am,” said Cap’n Whelan, gruffly, but his hands fidgeted with his | pipe and there were beads of moisture | on his brow. { “But the harbormaster, Mynheer | Maas"—she indicated the stolid Hol- | lander beside her—“told me you had —found him?”’ | “Yes, ma’am,” came the admissiod, | | given with reluctamce after apm‘e-‘ | ciable hesitation. “I found him—he | came @ me—but he’s mine just the * she cried, in her volce bliss nd torment, her hands thrust out how him to me—he's mine—I know he is—I knew it the minute I stepped | aboard this ship!” These words struck \rigid, as though his great bulk had been Doned with steel. His hands | clenched so that his pipe snapped, his | round eyes bulged, he became a mon | strous figure of dismay. Though he | ovened his mouth to speak, no words | came, for something was choking him “Ma'am, he with desperate | dignity, his brow thunderous but his |lips a-tremble, “I don't follow you!| suess there's a mistake some place. | | But his voice trailed off, for the! |words were a lie and sounded thin | and futile even to him. With horror | he saw that this bit of a woman had {come to plunder him. " “But there's no mistake! Have pity | {on a mother —show me my little Paul!” | |\ “Ma’am, his name is Samuel—" | * “What do you know of his name? I tell you a mother's heart know: | things nen never understand. I know | my little Paul is aboard this ship— | {that God has given him back to me from the grave. For hate a Malay | stole him eight months ago: we traced | him—he had gone to Kantamang in a proa. We hunted him. But he knew we were on his trail, and when | we caugat him he had got rid of the precious babe. He would not tell | There were rumors among the natives lon the other side that a Tuan's ship | had 2 But the. wol i for some reason they were afraid. Then my husband | Bot black water fever and had to | |return here. But I did not abandon \hupe. I would not believ: Paul | | was dead: This is that shiy | LI | LDER and colder had ! | ™ Whelan grown throughout this |torrent of words, yet the sweat| | trickled on his face. "He did not see the blue-eyed woman, nor Mynheer |Maas, nor the voicano ‘smoking| against the sky—he only saw his castle of happiness crumbling about | him—overwhelmed. The River Pan.| {jermassa runs through the heart of | Kantamang, and the Malays had bee | secretive because the Esmeralda’s| mission there had heen illegal and | punishable. All this was known to| Cap'n Whelan, and he was in tor-| ment “Ma‘'am,"” proof have | | | | Cap'n Whelan | Cap'n he ou? said, It numbly, was | 1 | though 1925— PART THE BABY WAS VERY REAL,AND IT SHOWED 'NO SIGNS OF DWIN. DLING, BUT KICKED AND WEPT. <h )t explained the whole mys tery muel in those few sentences. “He has two black moles on his right arm above the elbow. If you ave any heart, show me him!" She was mbling and wide-eyed, tor- tured by the suspense. And then indeed 1 Cap'n Whelan knew his star had set . and Mynheer | Maas and Mr. Rimington, standing on | one side as spectators saw a shudder run through him and his hands un- | clenched, the fragments of the pipe | tling down upo the deck. For all his size, for all his harshness, he was weak and heipless before that frail slip of a woman who was a mother. “Ma’am, you don't understand,” he said, surrendering, but humbly suppli- ating. “You mustn’t take himaway from me—that young 'un—that Samuel! Mebbe he is your baby, but he’d have been dead eight months since If it hadn't been for me. That gives me a cl You mustn’t take him away , because I love him like he was my own son! I've cared for him: I've been father and mother to him; I'll give him every- thing a boy could want! can’t be taking him Il pay you what him- At this suggestion eves blazed up. “I don't wonder you love him, Cap'n, but how dare you suggest I should sell him? you? “I'm sorry, said Whelan, his head hanging down. At this moment the infant Samuel entered the discussion. Awakening in the cabin and finding himself alone, he raiased a wail of protest. The mother answered with a cooing, comforting cry and filed past the stricken mountain of a man for the companionway. As she disappeared Capt. Whelan also sprang to life. Things had happened in his soul that was hidden beneath so many pounds of fat. He was as a man crazed. He, too, to the hatch, but away you ma'am! like for the magher's ma’'am,"” pt. ran did Why, you! How dare | not go belew. Instead he thrust il {his arm and drew out the rifle that rested on hooks upon the side. Mynheer Maas found himself covered. | “Off this brig, Dutchie! Mynhes Maas, though stolid, was ino fool ¥ felt that he had done enough in the interest of the Englist ! woman, who was no affair of his Fear made him nimble. All in a breath he went over the rail into the aunch and cried to the boy to cast . She slipped hastily away. Still covering the amazed official, |Capt. Whelan bawled orders to his {own crew. He did not know himself what he hoped to gain by his des | perate act, but he was a man used to |his own way, and in this crisis, on | which depended all his hapviness, he | sures. While Mynheer cried warninge from a dis- | creetly distant launch, Capt. Whe- lan’s commands set boys shouting, hawser groaning, ropes active, can vas rustling. The brig Esmeralda woke to life, the salls crept up, and out she went, gathering speed and confidence, across the open roadstead, leaving the volcano smok ing and the Dutchman raving. The bustle had swept Mr. Rimington off his feet, but now. with the water chuckling by and the sails flinging their arcs of shadow, he swore be. |neath his breath. “I'm afraid you've made a mess cf {it, sir,” he said, and he was sorry for Capt. Whelan Mister, mister, mebbe be I have—I had to do ldn’t let him go like!” * ok % ¥ did not stop at half me 1 have mel omethin: I co HE bric Esmeralda had light heels and had been the skipper's pride when she was his all. She served him well that day, sliding so swiftly away from that hateful port {that when the little woman came on dec the baby cozy in her arms, Souralenleng was far astern de tail lost save that the wolc still smoked. it no her p of astonis! I love that child better'n any I couldn’t let him go—I I dunno what we're but this gives us s over and not nuel’s mother ) rt to rob me this answering ment thing in just couldn't oing to do ne time to talk thin hastily. You, S ashion He stood before her like a schoolbe of Gargantua who had committed grievous and flung himself upon the merc: the maternal judge. Her eyes—that were pleasant to see as cornflowers— looked from him to the at him again. The halo of her hair. W the young again the joy in Her {ing “Ma'am, 1 | swir You the Esmera hush At this the the I nd back ght made ith the warmth of ainst her heart wus beyond say ody _a rough, but be treated 114 I'm proper on explain to your nan smiled sad 1ken man th A ed at | S ' “my hu ck-water favor 1lone on Souralen Killin he took leng ar | me. “Glory,” roared Cap'n Silas K. Whe- lan, which was a strange comment, but rang to heaven as a h of thanks ] the fervor in it salaamed. strange nner ¢ were in white vi of little story Iife. It it not for tne Mrs 1 looking Singapore but would be common Whelan acros: harbor to Samuel >aul, dwells there & eat sailor. The villa is built of concrete; it stands firm : at 10 prove the truth « bbing-tide and the Wearer May Sit 97,000 Times On Trousers Cloth U. S. Evolves . BY C. MORAN. DIGNIFIED Army officer came into the room. sat at his desk a moment, swung around in his chair and got up. He then passed into an adjoining room and presently handed his trousers | | through the door to a group of ex | perts who had been carefully watching every move. | The experts carried the trousers jover to a window and placed the seat under a powerful microscope. Each man in turn peered through the lenses at the trousers seat, jotted down some notes, and the memoranda were later charted on a blackboard. |, This strange proceeding was for t} {burpose of perfecting a machine | | which would produce the same wear {on the trousers as that in actual use. | | Army officers had complained that the | trousers of Army uniforms wear out | | sooner than the coats, and thatg= | | more durable fabric was desired. Suth a fabric was developed and placed on | the machine, which showed that the | wearer gould sit down 97,000 times be- | fore the seat me through. Does clothing wear out sooner now |adays than it formerly did? Why is it that some heavy fabrics are cool | and some thin fabrics are warm? What is the normal wear and tear on trousers, linings of women’s coats, | towels, sheets and other household fabrics? Textile experts at the Bureau | of Standards are trving to fnd the | answers to these questions. 1 Some unique machines have been | built for the purpose which mechan- feally subject the fabrics to actual wearing conditions. Thus the elbows of coats are rubbed through on an | abrasion machine, so that the wear of | automobile steering wheels upon coat sleeves can be measured. Similar tests measure the wear of trouser cuffs | agalnst shoe tops, the fraying of | watch pockets, the wear on suit lin- | ings and other fabrics. The activities of modern life, | Standard’s officjals declare, are a heavy strain on clothing and house- hold " fabrics. Special fabrics are| needed for motoring, hiking and camping. Sheets, pillowslips, towels, and other linens wear out sooner now- adays, they say, because these mate- rials are used more often than in grandma’s time. Time was, when a tablecloth wa draped over the dining room table only for Sunday dinner and other special occasions. Napkins were pro- duced only when there were guests. A roller towel on the Kitchen door | served all the members of the family. | Parlors were {6 look at but not to live in. Household linens, carpets, uphol- stery and draperies naturally lasted a long time under these conditions, be- cause they were not used. Nowadays | these materials are in every-day use, | with the result that they must be re- placed more often. To make them | last longer requires improved mate- rials and better manufacturing prac- tices, and this is what the Standard’s officials are trying to bring about. It has been found, for example, that it is possible to use reworked wool and produce a fabric which is supe- rior in wearing quality to one con- taining all virgin wool. Very often the kind of fiber used in fabrics is less important for some uses than the closeness of the weave. Cotton fab-! rics_absorb moisture, whereas wooll repels molsture, so that special A MACHINE WHICH PULLS APART SAMPLES OF CLOTH TO MEASURE THE STRE! GTH OF THE WEAVE. weaves must be developed to meez!lenile experts explain, is to hold the |air still, as it is the still air, and not | different needs. A test of blankets shows that blankets of moderate density are most effective for retaining heat when not d to air currents, but that weight blankets are more effec- tive in_keeping out the wind. In- crease in thickness gives a tionate increase in heat resistance. Blankets of lesser density allow too much air to circulate within their structure, while in heavy blankets too much heat escapes by conduction along the fibers. The purpose of fibers in fabrics, the propor- | |the wool or cotton, that keeps in the | heat. Resistance to {air currents increases with the close- |ness of the weave,.and hence with | the den: Resistance to the escape |of moisture also increases iwith density, so that in choosing fabri [for a given service the relative value |of these factors must be estimated. These tests of the heatretaining | properties of Blankets are made on an | electric plate covered on top and bot- tom with samples of the goods. The plate is then heated, and the quantity Washington Snakes (Continued from Third Page.) smooth surface. The notion that snakes when attacking are able to jump oft the ground is erroneous. Nor do they, as some say, ever climb | trees in spiral fashion, the classical, artistic mode” of representation. Yet the writer noticed a stout simu- lacrum of a tree in the python cage jand in other of the snake cages. Along these they stretch and wind them- selves during thelr waking moments, though it may not reach the dignity of tree ¢limbing. Alluding to the remark by the head keeper that snakes were carnivorous, I asked him of what the food of the big python consisted when he last came out of his trance for a meal. He mentioned a young pig, weigh- ing 13 or 14 pounds. The python quickly cofled it, and the “pig,’ sald the Keeper, “suffered far less paln than the hogs in a Chicago packing stand and see being stuck all da; without wincing or objection.” cases of poison from snaike-bite. “In cases of snake poison,” said he, “the administration of enormous doses of alcohol is to e strongly con- demned, and, though small, stimulat- ing doses, repeated, are good, stimu lation can be more effectively pro- duced by ammonia or strychnine, but there is only one fairly reliable treat- the injection of considerable quanti- ties of seru been partially immunized by repeatcd doses of that particular snake-venom Unfortunately, this treatment will not often be available. Some mam- mals and birds are supposed to be immune—mongoose, hedgehog, pig, stork, ete. the passage of the house which man and woman visitors The keeper was asked concerning ment—that by serum therapeutics— of animals which have’ of heat esCping through the samples s measured electrically. The air tests consist of fastening the samples over |the open mouth of a cylinder into | which air is pumped at low pressure @ gas meter being used to measure the | quantity of escaping air. This glves the relative ability of the fabrics to keep out the wind and to prevent cir culation of air. Moisture tests | samples over | taining wate are made by tying small glass beakers con The beakers are kept fat a constant temperature and the tops of the fabrics exposed to an at { mosphere of standard humidity. The {beakers are weighed at intervals and the moisture measured. The tests deal with the whole prob lem of fabrics from the production of !the raw fibers in the cotton field and | on the sheep ranches, through the gin ithe spinning of the yarn and the | manufacture of the cloth hey are {made in a special laboratory insulated }with cork so that atmospheric conds tions of temperature and humidity may be artificially regulated and each test made undep identical conditions. A special device tests the strength of individual fibers in cloth, and an other grips the fabric at each end and gradually pulls it apart, so as to spot weaknesses in the weave. It is only | by such tests that manufacturing ma {chinery can be readjusted to produce icloths of uniform strength over their | entire surface. The bureau investigations show that very often weaknesses in fabrics may be traced back to the cotton flelds where baled cotton is exposed to weather damage. The loss on account of weather damnge is estimated at up ward of $25,000,000 a- year, 500-pound bales of cotton having been found in which there has been as much as 370 pounds of damaged cotton to the bale, |