Evening Star Newspaper, January 3, 1932, Page 75

TON, D. C, JANUARY 3. 1932 11 cartaches of an Old Sea Captain—BY LEETE STONE “In the Indian Ocean we struck wicked weather—and she went down at last, with her skipper an’ first mate grippin’ hands on the bridge.” night yet I can see an’ feel the love in her eyes as she waved from the dock. Sailin’ ship days, honey—those were. We were three onths at sea, when down in the Indian Ocean we struck wicked weather. I've never seen a worse storm. A leaky old tub with rig- gin' all half rotten. Sent out by owner who'd rather collect fat insurance than preserve good men’s lives. So down she went at last, Alice, with her skipper an’ first mate grippin’ hands on the bridge. They were pals and we couldn’t budge them. Myself an’ four men took to the pne good lifeboat just in time. We’'d grabbed broken spar from the ship, an’ we saved the canvas cover o' the lifeboat. So we rigged & jury sail. What ropes we had were so rotten they kept partin’ in the vicious gale; an’ what wi’ tyin’ knots, bailin’, rowin’, too, wi’ them great oars—well, it kept us busy, lass. We run before the wind an’ next day beached on a tiny barren island which we figgered to be jsomewhere near Australia. I'm hurryin’, dear. 11 CIX months we spent ther2, eatin’ fish an’ a few nuts an’ greens we found. But we'd died if it hadn't been for a little spring o' fresh water we found in the middle o’ this tiny island. There were plenty o’ matches in the bulkhead o’ the boat; so we laid smoke signals every day. Finally a ship bound for Cape own lowered a boat and salvaged us. 8Six onths spent on that island, lass. And then, for me, going here and there about five o’ the keven seas tryin’ to work my way back to Ann. [Finally I got a berth on a brigantine clearin’ for ew Orleans. “Just two years, Alice, after I left Ann, 1 walked up the garden path of the wee cottage by the sea where I'd left her. It was vacant and dreary. Nary curtain in any window. I rushed to a neighbor’s house like a madman, ying ‘Where’s Ann? Where’s Ann?’ “The woman's eyes near popped out of her ead. “‘Ann left here with her baby more'n a lyear ago. Long before that you was reported ost. Ann got sick an’ took on like to die. Then she got better, an’ very silent an’ tight mouthed. IShe only told me she was goin’ to» go as far pway from here as she could get; said she was goin’ to change 'er name an’ life an’ every- hin’ an’ work for ’er baby. Say—why'nt you ver write 'er if you was saved?’ “‘Mails don’t stop at uninhabited islands,’ remember mumblin’—I was dazed an’ stun- ed, my dear. Well, that's the story, Alice. 've written, advertised, searched. I've never ound her. So I've followed the seas the rest b’ my life, an’ worked my way to a captain’s hes This Year Hue weight to advice of those responsible for he conduct of national finance. ““Eighth. Give reassurance to the individual merican that the tradition of private enter- brise shall be preserved and that the Govern- ent shall be an umpire only, to preserve fair blay between its people “Ninth. Continue to adjust the protective ariff, step by step, to represent only the dif- erence in wage scales and living sandards gainst cheaper labor competitors. “Tenth. Use the great reservoir of American ympathy and its genius for organization in aring for cases of individual misfortune. “Last, and of supreme importance to America ow and at all times, let us aveid, in any form, onations from the National Treasury as charity les, but in cases of extreme emergency, main- pin employment in justified public work until rivate industry can absorb its full quota. “It is my sincere belief that in these sug- ested adjustments lies the structure of a saner nd sounder economic fabric than our country as ever known.” (Copyright, 19332.) bridge, as Ann desired, before steam an’ old age brought me here. I'm 67 now. I'll never find her, Alice. But, lass, I can still dream o’ her; write to her; send little posies now an’ then; an’ live like she was here at my side. Time for you_to run, honey.” “Captain Daddy!” Alice flung impulsive arms on the broad old shoulders. “Don’t give up! Ann may be alive. She’d wait forever for you. And the baby. Captain Daddy!” . . . Re- gardless of the windows on the eminence above, from any one of which the austere superin- tendent might be looking, Alice brushed her lips across the bushy white hair and was gone. She lay long that night in restless wakeful- mounting the stone steps outside reached her with a rush of joy. Of course it was— “Alice!” “Gavin!” For a space, no matter how long, they just looked at each other. Then, swift as light itself, the recalcitrant memory flashed into Alice’s brain and was pinned into place. “Why, Gavin; it’'s you—you who . . . “Sounds like a cue in East Lynne, Alice. Of course, it's me. Didn’t I tell you I was coming up as fast as the Lord and the boss would let me? Say, Alice—are you glad to see, me, dear?” “Am I? Oh, Gavin!” Words that were soft little sighs. Then, covering emotion: “Say, big boy, look at my best bib and tucker. Just for you I put it on. The question before the house is, are you glad to see me as a working lady instead of a beach bird of paradise?” “Ah, say, Alice . . .” Gavin likewise sought the refuge of slang to cloaxz his feelings. “And how! I hit 60 and better on the open stretches coming up. One of them cost me a ticket, which is in my vest pocket—and I'm not even sorry I sassed the cop. Say, Alice, cut the work! It's after 12, anyway. Want you to come out and meet Granny. She's waiting for us in the car. She'd like to have you show her round the home, she says. The old dear donates money to this place every year. She just told me that. You'll love her, Alice. Her husband, grandfather, was lost at sea when they were young as we. She's never forgotten him. Come, dear, this is your afternoon off. I want to drive you far, far away and take you through leafy country roads—and when we come to the most romantic turn in the road—— Ah, Alice, tell me you'll say ‘yes’ this afternoon.” His smile endeared him to her. “I'll show you what the word devotion means,” he ended, reaching across the railing to catch both her hands. “Devotion, Gavin?” Alice quietly withdrew her imprisoned hands. “Come here to the window—I've lately learned something about that word. See that old sailor on the bench under the tree? See?” “Yes, dear. Picturesque, isn't he? T'll bet he was captain of his craft, all right.” “And of his soul, Gavin. We're friends, he and I. I used to wonder about him. He al- The old salt unfolded his tale of the sea and of love. ness. Pondering the mystery of Captain daddy’'s lost sweetheart and the beauty of his lonely inner life, her thoughts turned to Gavin Dris- coll. Alice wondered if his love could stand the acid test of the years—if, deprived of her, his faithfulness could rank with Capt. Daddy’s. That afternoon she had had a letter from him, saying he was coming to see her on Saturday. Memories of that last day when they had breasted the tall, curling surf together flooded her consciousness. He 'had asked her to marry him; asked her with grave, but not glib im- petuosity. He was doing well with a great engineering firm of New York City. He spoke simply; power and tenderness entrenched be- hind the gentleness of his words. She had said: “Come to see me sometime— where I work. Let's not be serious until we know each other better.” But that was subter- fuge. She knew she loved him. But her heart warned her against the possibility of the ordi- nary, tawdry Summer resort flirtation, know- ing all the while that Gavin was different. He was not flimsy. Saturday morning Alice put on her simplest, most expensive business frock. Gavin had seen her only in holiday feathers. She would try him on a severer note. About 10, as usual, Capt. Daddy stopped at the railing. “Lo there, Capt. Daddy. Is this a morning for a letter?” “Sure it is, Alice honey. One o' the rare mornin’s that’s built special for the writin’ o’ love letters and the launchin’ o’ lovely ships.” “Capt. Daddy, perhaps I'll have that sweet- heart to show you today—by permission of the copyright owners.” Her lips crinkled win- ningly. “Now, now, don’t ye never tell me so.” Mock amazement from Capt. Daddy. “Well, well! I'll be on the old bench above the sea all aft- ernoon. Bring the lad over, honey, an’ I'll see if I'll let ’im splice the laces over your charm- in’ little insteps. How's that?” “0. K., Capt. Daddy.” ITHIN five minutes of noon the purr of a powerful roadster penetrated Alice’s ears from the big front doors near her office. Her heart missed two beats. The tap of swift feet ways sits there and sometimes scribbles in a little note book. Then he comes in here and writes a letter—three or four times a week. But he never mails the letters, Gavin. It was a mystery. Then, one day, I found one of his letters that had blown out of the window. That letter and what he has since told me taught me a lot about devotion, Gavin.” “Tell me, Alice,” he said, catching at her mood at once. ‘“He writes them to his lost sweetheart. They were married for a month when he went back to sea. He was shipwrecked and reported lost. It was two years before he got back to where he left her. She had gone with their baby, Gavin, and he's never been able to find her. But he writes to her. It's his way of keeping her close. She’s with him always as he sits on that bench. Oh, you should have heard him tell it all. He’s never forgotten her for a day.” “Say, Alice, I'd like to know him. Can't I"” Gavin said. “Afterward, Gavin. First take me to your grandmother. Fair exchange, you know.” And she smiled up at him. She spoke excitedly as one who stands on the brink of happiness. “I want to talk to her awhile and show her about a little. You run along after you in- troduce us and stroll around the grounds. They're really beautiful. I'll take you down to my captain in a little while.” “Righto, Alice. Come along! I'll vanish awhile.” APT. DADDY, his letter finished, had sal- vaged a newspaper and brought it to his bench on the grassy edge of the cliff that looked out to sea. He poured over the half column devoted to the port’s shipping news. Familiar names wakened sleeping memories. Here were printed words that served to span the years and scented the blue atmosphere of the day faintly with a subtle and pervasive perfume, as of land breezes breathing through the starlight of bygone nights. Dreams dwelt within him—of crested surf, silvery in the moonlight, booming in on empty beaches, of the mincing approach of shalt)w water swerv- ing and swaying over dark, dangerous reefs, of emerald islands strewn upon the flat expanse of polished seas in the peace of noonday calm. One hand in his jacket pocket, tightly clasp- ing the letter he had written that morning, Captain Daddy gazen in utter oblivion of his immediate surroundings at the weirdly an- gular patterns of foam caused by the tide- rip in the bay below. Suddenly slim, trembling fingers folded down his eyelids from behind. “I've brought you a surprise.” They were whispered words. “Alice, honey—it must be you. Did ye’ know that was a trick of my little Ann’s?” The old sailor reached up brown, hesitant hands to remove the soft ones. “Honeymoon days are here again . . .” That was a lost voice. It snapped some-, thing inside Captain Daddy and tore away the fabric of his dreams. One motion whip- ped his head from that fragile caress. Another, and he stood facing a small figure in white lace collar and black silk gown. She stood pal- pitating, wordless with ethereal ecstasy. “Ann! Ann!” he muttered. “Jim!” The little lady sighed softly. For long they faced each other, their eyes like stars, but voiceless. There are moments when even tender words are_sacrilege. Still silent, Captain Daddy steppd to Ann’s side, leaned over a little and gathered her into his arms. Then he deposited her with gentle agility in the exact center of his bench. Kneeling reverently before her, he laid his shaggy white head in the little black lap and murmured: “Ann, sweetheart . . . at last I'm safe in the snug harbor o’ your arms . . . and Ann,” he reached into the pocket of the old jacket, “here’s a letter I wrote ye this mornin’.” > (Copyright, 1932.) Hog Fails to Meet Tasx OGS “on the hoof” are selling at an almost unprecedentedly low price this year and with the plunge in price has gone a cor- responding plunge in the prospects of many a farmer counting on his hogs for the pay- ment of his taxes. Hogs, easily raised, have long been one o{. the main reliances of the average farmer for a ready cash crop, a crop which could be turned into money at will after the hogs once achieved any size. Recent prices of slightly more than $4 a hundred on the Chicago market represent a drop of nearly 50 per cent in the price of the preceding year, a price which was none too satisfactory. Almost every general farmer has his hog pen and, while modern methods require a little more care than the bld swill-barrel method of feeding and sulphur and charcoal “doctoring,” still, with little loss of time, the farmer has been able to find himself a handy income to counterbalance some of the more exacting activities with their lower returns. C. B. Denman, a member of the Federal Farm Board, in a recent statement expressed the opinion that the current retail prices war - rant a higher price to the farmer, for in his opinion the spread between the farmer and the consumer is too great with the agencies between the producer and the consumer making little reduction in their charges to correspond to the lowered return to the farmaer. Helium Purity Vital HE Bureau of Mines experts at the Amariflo, Tex., helium plant, not content with their success in cutting the cost of the production &f ¢ this gas to a very small fraction of the origi- nal cost, have turned their attention to purity with the result that they- have produced the gas in a purity of 99.96 per cent and at the rate of 50,000 cubic feet a day. While the output is small, the procedure is such that it is ecop- sidered likely that it can be adapted economi- cally on a large scale. The importance of this purity is in the effect it has on the lifting power of the gas. Each per cent of purity means an increased lifting power of the Akron, for instance, of two tons. Improvement over the past two years has pro- duced a gas capable of increasing the Akron’s pay load by 8,000 pounds and the nmew system if applied on a large scale would add about the same amount more. Plant Food Needs Study HEN the home gardener is puzzled by the failure of his flowers after liberal applica- tion of fertilizers, it may be that he will find the result of some experiments conducted by the Department of Agriculture interesting. Ap- plying fertiliger is not just a question bf spread- ing it on the soil or digging it in. It is a matter which requires serious thought. The type of soil being treated must be con- sidered. In light, sandy soil, fertilizers placed below the seed but not much below are often fatal to the seedlings for the plants are burned up. In clay and other heavy soils, on the-e other hand, if the fertilizer be placed too far below the seeds the rootlets are too slow in reaching the plant food. The best practice, apparently, is to place the fertilizer in the ground slightly above and to the side of the roots, fron which position it works down to the roots. Moving Music Vie—TI can’'t find that Sousa’s Band ph@-‘ graph record. Do you know what became of it? Trola—No! I guess somebody stole a march on us.