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14 was making meward B = any turned ou the royal to the terrific force and loud as a man found the whee and the helms- ess in his hands. It revolved as before its control over the rudder was g d the big ship was at the mercy of the gale. As the ed herself to the ch sall as was set s and before a soul red the vessel was under bare poles however, Captain Thompson had enough canvas to en- able him to handle the vessel, steering ber with the aid of the safls. The ship was still in grave danger, however, and would be at the mercy of any change in the gale's mo s long as the rudder was beyond contry Investigation showed that the rudder it- self was al but that the stock had Homeward Bc fury of the was ripped 1 knew what b wallow Within ond possibility of re- T H ward Bound is a steel vessel and her rudder, of the same ma- terial, weighs more than two tons. This massive blade was swinging freely on its hinges and threatening with every roll of the vessel to stave a hole In her plates. To secure this flapping wing of steel was mmediate necessity, as a hole in the of a steel ship laboring in a Cape southwester means rapid transit for all hands to Davy Jones' locker. It had X {4 BUr A LIBERAL, DRAVGEHL \"l R mllu-vm:“l“]w ~ »)/-/ z'—\m// 4 fo be sec D FIT rea; control over s re-established, litles than Thomp- saved ndertaken by two r st Willia ackle on in the mad sea was sometimes high the vessel's stern he poop deck W the shackle was many d dived kle rod from the end of and m several a wire 1 through the 1 came up by the und, however, tnat this serve. He was out of pson, who attended he was suspended and rafsing could not be icient expeditio give the shac as it he water. ndoned after several swaying rudder, and r ing the situation ed to take the one nce upon which lay the only hope of success He seized hold of the shackle. As the d banged he was flung e with a force that would sened anything less sure than a Ho.ding on with one hand, ugh the shackle. setiled, rudder, appeared beneath » came again. A shaking-up as the mmed from side to ttempt to pass through 1d again toe plunge. asional spells of rest. Swing- ing wildly in the bight of a rope, soaked h icecold water, the cruel wind of t g to the marrow, it was , and, even at that, ve called it rest sts and the wild rides however, the task was performed. More than a score of times Willlams made that submarine trip with the elusive shackle. passed through the ring two wire h those on deck attached the wire hauled to wh chalns and with rough the rudder shackle. These Williams then shackled in place and his work was done. He fainted when hauled on deck, but a lfberal draught of grog and a vigorous g down with alcohol revived him and befere evening he was on deck at- tending to his dutles, While Willlams was fighting his battle under the stern th@men on deck lashed a boom across the poop and projecting at each side. The rudder chains were passed through pulley blocks at the ends of this spar and around a drum made by boarding over the screw of the steer- ing gear. When Willlams made the chains fast the makeshift tackle was hauled tight and the Homeward Bound's rudder was in eommission again. Williams. is a man of about 38 years. He has had an eventful life, and the episode of the Homeward Bound's jury rudder was only one of a number of stir- ring events in which he has participated. He served in the Slamese navy and once held a commission in the navy of Den- mark, his native land. He was navigator of the Colomblan warship Itata when she was blown up at Panama with great loss of life during the late revolution in the Central American republic. He expects to leave the Homeward Bound in a few days and Is seriously considering the ad- visability of settling down to a quiet life ashore, (Copyright, 193, by T. C. McClure.) AIR MISTRESS DORIS was sing- ing as she came flylng down the wide stalrway and out into the warm brilliancy of the young day. For it was midsummer, the time ©of roses, of fragrance, of romance. And Doris seemed the veritable spirit of it ali-at least so thought the young 2 2 2 IN LOVE fellow watching her from his seat under the great elm. But it was not till she was quite close to him that she was aware of his presence. The gay little chanson she had been Miting ceased, and the pretty, startled color deepened in her soft cheeks. “Bon jour!” she ecried blithely, ana paused in her Atalanta-like flight. *Mer. cy! What a morning to be poring over a book! Why, instead, you should—" “l know!” He had risen' and was towering before her, straight and stately, a man with an air that was more that of a soldier than a student. “You think I should prefer to cultivate Dame Na~-. ture.” There was a quizzical flicker in the gray, black-lashed, black-browed eyea that met her accusing gaze. “If you will put down that book you may walk with me as far as the abode of Mrs. Melinda Parsons, who 1s expect- THE SUNDAY CALL. ing me this morning to write her month- 1y letter to her son in the Philippines.” L3 L “The permission s tempting,™ Half-Hour Storiette by Kate M, Cleary. con- fessed John Jardine. dle—"" “Oh, 1t you prefer Freddie's soclety to mine!” The little chin Im.h the dimple ‘went up in the alr. *“But—I'm paid to teach your brother, Miss Ware!” he hastened to explain. “And not to accompany me. I quite understand.” And then—with much dig- nity of demeanor, “Good morning, Mr. Jardine!” “Good morning,” he replied ruefully. But the quizzical smile was dancing egain in his ha.ndumlsye:. as Miss “But there is Fred- Ware flashed open her parasol, whisked up the skirts of her embroldered batists and turned loftily away, only to pause when she had taken a few steps, and look back over her shoulder with _eyes tull of infinite reproach. “There’s that dog at Brown's, and—he walking long found himself adjusting his Jonn Jardine along the avenue, | stride to the gait of Miss Doris Ware, who, now that she had her own way In persuadifig the most stubborn individual with whom she had ever come in contact, was radiant and bubbling over with mer- riment. Since six months before their acquain- tance began the little flirt, belle, beauty and heiress had vainly tried all her graces and fascinations on the serious and stately instructor of her bolsterous young brother. It had seemed so natural, since she was a schoolgirl in short dresses, to have admirers by dozens that the difficulty she experienced of bringing Jardine to her feet piqued her, and made her more than ever determined to make him capitulate. She would have opened her pansy-purple eyes very wide indeed, and have been honestly amazed, had any one accused her of being heartless. She would have sald that no one meant to be serious. Anyhow, all knew—for it was an open secret—that she was npt free. Her marriage had been arranged—oh, ages ago—by parents and lawyers and solicitors, and those kind of peopls. It was purely a marriage of convenlence. But it appeared to be very convenient in- deed, and quite satisfactory all around Some day, when she was old, very old— perhaps twenty-four or thereabouts—Lord Lessington would come sailing over the sea and wed her, and bear her back over the billow to a magnificent, historic did home In Sussex, and she would be a great lady, and lead a good and beautiful lifs, and be happy forever and ever. Which, as her heart had never been touched, and she was only a wild and winsome little malden, seemed quite right and nat- | ural Only of late she had begun to wonder why her eyes would droop when sudden- ly encountering those of the man beside whom she now walked, rattling on in light, inconsequent fashion. She was furious when she found her chgeks grow burning hot at the moment of a chance meeting. What was he to her that her heart had come to beat more quickly when in his presence? Deflantly she summoned all her bright audacity to con- ceal this strange new unrest. Homeward bound, an hour later, they secured their mail at the village. In the green gloom, gold-plerced, of the forest pathway the girl sat down to read her letters. Leaning against a tree, grave and silent, Jardine stood watching her. “Oh!” she cried out sudde and turning very pale. ‘“He is comin His lawyer writes he is coming. Oh, I didn't think he'd come for years!” There was downright dread In the eyes that looked piteously up at her f‘ompanlon. “Lord Lessington is coming! He nodded. “You've never seen him™ he asked. “He Is old, I suppqge—and ugly—and altogether detestable’ “No—oh, mo! It was all arranged. But they say he is young and good. He is very rich, of course. I didn’t think I'd mind—and now.” She rose trembiing. The tears brimmed over and ran down the cheeks from which the rose-bloom had faded. “He will be hers to-day, and I-soon I will have to marry himl™” “You poor little thing!”" The compas- sion in. his volice thrilled her—that, and something more. “Don’t you know—you arling—that you are going Then he had her in his arms and was holding her close in their strong and shel- tering embrace. For an instant or two she did not re- sist. The sweet shock of It all, the sense of being protected, more than all the ecstatic knowledge of her own heart, overwhelmed her. His kisses were on her cheeks, her lips, and his passionate words in her ears. “No—no!— she cried, and drew away. “It isn’t right! I must marry Lord Les- sington. It was all arranged long ago. I never objected. I didn't know—" “That—no, 1 shan’t touch you again unless you come to me. You didn’t know that you were going to fall in love with me."” Her color came back with a rush. “Is this—"" she faltered, “is this—love™ He laughed—a low, contented, joyous laugh. “I will answer that only with you ia my arms. Come She hesitated. Aware of & bewildering sense of happiness, she still hesitated. But his eyes compelled her. She took a step forward, and again his arms enfold- ed her. It was with dread of the battle to be possessing her that Doris War heard the first dinner bell that evening. But it was a determined young lady who held her head high, and went down the stairway to meet the English nobleman who it had been decided should make her his wife' Would her always indul- gent father be furious to learn she was to marry a penniless tutor? Would her weak, ambitious mother Weep and pro- test? What matter? She would have him whom she loved—loved—ioved. “Go In!” Her parents, standing at the foot of the stairs, kissed her. “Go In! And God bless you both! He is walting. Go to him!" Then the slender figure, all In snowy draperies of clinging lace, was walking up the room. “I am sorry to have te tell you, Lord Lessington—"" she began, but the words she would have spoken wers never said. The tall, handsome man In evening dress had her held tightly to his heart, AND WAR 2 2 & | might bite. And—and it's hard to get over the pasture stile—alone. = And—" a pititul quiver in her voice clinched the sincerity of her assertions, “I am afrald of snakes—and there may be snakes. Freddle saw one last summer.” There was no questioning the triumph- ant truth of the final declaration. Nor was refusal longer possible. " Conquere: and the arms that closed around her were those that had been her refuge that morniMg In the forest. *“John," l;ehwhl;pe‘rfid. “John!" ‘edric Jobn Jardine Dynel Lessington®™ he corrected hep. Byemm'_‘ I've won you! I've served for you—if not as long as Jacob served for Rachel, as faithfully. It's fair—all's fatr, heart—in love and war!’