Evening Star Newspaper, August 8, 1937, Page 76

HEN I woke up, every muscle in my body was aching. I couldn’t think what had happened to me. Then I remembered the wreck the night before. Everything had fallen on me since I am number one surfman at Pilot’s Bar, and I'd been trying to take what I could off Cap’n Holbrook’s shoulders. Joe Avila came in, his slicker giistening wet. “How is it?”’ I asked. “It’s blowing still and more to come. The Old Man knows it too.” “He up already?” “Up! He ain’t turned in. He’s been a-settin’ there all night — waitin’. Ed, you got to do something with him. He got hurt worse than he let on that last storm. An’ now last night’s wreck — "’ “The men from the wreck gone to town?” I asked. And there came to my mind the ship- wrecked men as they’d huddled around the Coast Guard station. Joe said: “They all was took in town. You've got to do something about the Old Man.” Captain Holbrook was sitting in the mess room. He looked bigger than ever hunched up there. He was sitting just where he’d let him- self down after the wreck. “You’d ought to get you some rest, Cap'n,” I told him. The Old Man looked at me sharp. *I am as good any day as you, young fellow."” “You're better’'n me,” I soothed him. “I couldn’t 'a’ gone through that wreck and then taken me no sleep.” “I'd ’a’ slept too heavy. Steppin’ on that dead boy give me a turn. Ed, I feel there’s ““More gale, sir?” “More vessels in distress,” he said slow. “I’'m as sure there’s a laborin’ vessel under the horizon headed for Pilot’s Bar as if I c’d see it through my glass. Better I'd stay awake. I am going to need all my faculties.” “I wish you’d turn in, sir,”” I said anxious. ““Mr. Sears, I'll not ask for your advice,” he growied. “No, sir,” I said. “I expect you think you’d make a dang good Cap’n yourself,” the Old Man said bitter. 1 didn't answer nothing more. He’d been suspicious like that since he was sick a couple of weeks ago. I'd found him on his bed half- unconscious, but he pulled himself together before the doctor could get there. It might have been a slight stroke, but he wouldn’t admit to nothing. Since then he’d driven us like he’d never done and was suspicious anyone would feel he’d lost an atom of his power. 1 got into my oilskins and made for the door. It was my beach patrol. I had a feeling I couldn’t never forget how he looked — power- fu! an’ rugged and ash-colored like the corpse he’d stepped on, sittin’ there, tired nigh to death Limself. Captain Isaac Holbrook was so much part of the work of this piece of coast that you couldn’t think of Pilot’s Bar Station without him. He’d been there over thirty years. When I opened the door of the station, the wind tore it out of my grasp like it had hands. The sea was slate color and combers of white THIS WEEK THETHREE BROTHERS “Only a great man dares say he’s wrong. The story of a desperate hour by MARY HEATON VORSE rolled in one after another. Waves broke over the bar half to three-quarters of a mile offshore. The sea was empty except for a smudge toward the horizon. A Down the beach was the vessel which had come ashore the night before — slanted over, a hole stove in her bottom. The rain had stopped and the wind was like the blow of a fist. I bent my head to it and dove into it. I kept pondering on the strangeness of the Old Man sitting there like he knew about something that hadn't happened yet. I made the long patrol, exchanged checks with the man from the next station, stopped for a few words of gossip with him, getting warmed up at the halfway house, and started back to Pilot’s Bar station. I couldn’t shake off the feeling that the Old Man was right and something more was bound to happen. ] wonder if he is still sittin’ there,”’ I thought, “sittin’ there like a corpse himself.”” Why that sort of a figure sitting in a Coast Guard station was like a magnet for bad luck. A little way from the station there is a breach in a high sand dliff through which we launch the lifeboat. In this shelter from the wind someone stirred. I saw it was a girl in slicker and sou’wester. Then I saw it was Sara. “Sara Holbrook,” I said, “what you doin’ here in this weather?”’ ““Waiting for you,” she answered. “‘I wanted news of Pa. How is he? When he was on liberty he didn’t seem himself.” “Why didn’t you go up to the station?”” . “I was going to, an’ then I thought that he might be mad. He didn’t want me to notice how sick he was. He cussed me out good for fussing over him. So knowing it was your watch, I thought I'd wait for you, Ed.” Her voice got soft when she said my name and she didn’t HE SAID QUIET: “I'LL SHOOT THE FIRST MAN WHO TOUCHES THAT BOAT. IF NECESSARY, I'LL WOUND EVERY LAST ONE OF YOU™ sound so anxious. She smiled and I kissed her. We were getting married next summer. “Come up with me now,” I told her, ‘‘mebbe you can do somethin’ with him. None of us can.” “Look!” she said, and pointed out to sea. Far out to the horizon a small sail labored. Something was wrong with the vessel. “There it comes, kis wreck!” Although it was so far away, there wasn't any doubt it was scudding toward trouble. We couldn’t stir, watching that distracted-acting vessel. “He was right,”” I said at last, *“This’s what he was waiting for. He said he was sure there was a laborin’ vessel under the horizon headed for Pilot’s Bars” “He's been queer since he was taken sick that time,” Sara said slowly. “He’s been like what my Scotch grandmother used to call ‘fey.” " “ ‘Fey,” what'’s that?’’ I asked. “It’s when you can sense things other folks can’t. It’s when you can sort o’ feel what’s going to happen. Oh!” she grabbed hold of my arm and clung to me. “Hang on,” I yelled in her ear. “It’s only a’ little way to the station.”” The sky got darker, and the sea with it. Far out the little vessel kept on its course that was no course. The men were gathered for supper when we got in. “Where’s Pa?” Sara asked. ““He’s up in the lookout.” Our Coast Guard station was new and was set a distance back from the high sand cliff on the edge of the sea, for the sand cliff was being eaten into year by year. We had a fine lookout tower with a strong telescope. Sara climbed up to it and I followed. Captain Holbrook was watching the vessel which was being driven inshore. “Hello, Sara,” he said gently. I was kind o’ expectin’ you.” She threw a quick glance at me. ““Your brothers’ vessel in?"’ he wanted to know. “No, Pa.” “They been sighted anywhere?”” he asked. “There’s been no word of them.” “You mean the Three Brothers went out with storm signals flying, the worst storm we’ve had in years coming up over the Atlantic?"” Hustrated by Anton Otto Fischer Mogazine Section “They went out early before storm signals flew. They haven’t been heard of since. They must 'a’ made port somewheres. Everyone who came in, I asked about the Three Brothers, but no one’s heard of them. They’re most likely up to 'Memsha Bight.” b “Can you make her out?”’ Captain Holbrook asked the lookout. “No, sir, I can’t yet.” “Give me a look.” He went to the telescope. “I can’t quite make her out, but it seems to me — " He hesitated like he couldn’t bear to finish. ** You look and see if it’s them, Sara. You know their vessel as good as me.” Sara gazed through the telescope a long time while we watched her. - At last she said: “I think it’s them.” . “I felt it was,” Cap’n Holbrook answered. “I feel like I'd been a-watchin’ for ‘em!” < One minute, no one could be sure that this was the Three Brothers, and then it wastertain. Before the eyes of their father, before their sister’s eyes, the three Holbrook boys were being driven toward death. Now they would be lost in the hollow of a trough of a great sea. Now you could see them again driving their crazy course. They set off the signal light: ‘‘vessel in distress.” The men wondered, can they keep off the bar? There would be more of a chance if the vessel was beached. But the men aboard couldn’t choose. She was completely out of control. “We could get out the lifeboat now,” they muttered. But the Cap’n aloft was watching the fate of his sons. “Say, Ed, can’t you make him move?” I answered, ‘“He’s Captain here.” * At long last he came down the stairs, hag- gard, but standing straight. Sara came after him, mare distracted than he. “You get the surf boat out,” he said. “It's hard saying if we are going to be able to launch her.” “We’ll launch her all right,” piped up Tom Hines, the youngest one of us. It was twilight already when we got the heavy boat down to the beach. Another signal flare went up from the Three Brothers. She'd struck on the bar now. Our rocket cut the dusk. The gale had increased in fury. The Cap’n’s voice cut through like the crack of a pistol! “I want to call for volunteers.” We all volunteered. It seemed as if we couldn’t launch the boat. We tried once. We tried twice. But the waves were too heavy. The third time, Cap’'n Hol- brook held up his hand. His face was gra “Stop!”’ he ordered. ‘‘Take back the lifeboat. ¢ “Take back the boat?’’ I echoed. - “I’m not a-goin’ to risk the lives of eight men