The San Francisco Call. Newspaper, April 17, 1904, Page 7

£ view this ha was 4 easy to ariably Few made the A their wages fitable to retal Trig their service. But on almost lost him The Aloha had cleared the doldrums end had barely caught the trades. It happened in the watch about 5 ¢ ek The were braced sharp up on the port tack and if the Aloha was making her course, that was ahout all, The mate, eniffing the wind, to take prompt ad- antage of any favorable change, kept watch by the weather mizzen rigging. The men were just taking cof- the breeze hauled aft a trifie of wa g until they had fin- afsen gave the order to square in a bit at once. “Slack away your spanker sheet,” he ordered next A man 4did so, beom jammed. the block on the The mate leaned over bt the railing to overhaul the sheet. Sud- denly it cleared, and the boom shot out with a jerk to leeward. The mate had been leaning against the boom, s0 naturally he went with it, but not hay- ing wings he fell, and a minute later was shouting in the ship's wake. The mate's watch was made up partly of Melbour: arrikins and part- ly of Frisco roughs, an unwholesome mixture. Olafsen had not been very courteous to them on the trip, and they remembered it now of all times. The ship was making a good six knots, and even had the helmsman brought her up into the wind it would have taken a good hour to pick up the mate. But the wheel remained un- THE SAN FRANCISCO SUNDAY CALL. 7 /, shifted and the Aloha sailed straight , the men coiled up the ropes and soon the shouts astern died out in the hiss of the wake. But it wasn’t to save trouble that they paid no heed. An hour later the man at the wheel cast loose a life buoy and roared out: “Man overboard!" The captain came on deck, all hands were called, the ship was hove to and a boat lowered. They spent an hour hunting, but of course it wasn't likely that they would find a man dropped six miles astern. . A week after the Aloha came into Honolulu and officially reported her mate lost at sea. A The Aloha hauled up alongside the railroad dock and began discharging her cargo of coal. The crew were em- ployed: on deck manipulating burtons and whips and driving winches, while the Kanakas filled the buckets below. By Saturday you could no longer jump down the hatchways to the top of the cargo. It was nearly noon. The men ex- pected to knock off early and were in N THE SHIFS NART. g HE FZLL, AN0 A TINUT TR S A pretty good humor, handying jokes with one another. Suddenly there came a crash—a bucket dropped on deck, almost driv- ing through the planks and nearly kill- Ing big Steve at the burton. The man ariving the for'd winch stood stiff, his ally across the harbor to the mail have hove her to. | g )| e =X the panic that followed. He Is the only one capable of giving’'a concise, impar- tial account of what happened—the I have heard the watchman tell the story several times, and he always tells it in a.humorous vein. To him it was extremely funny. K You see, he did not know the mate should have been dead ten- days. Trig Qlafsen came up the gangway, his head thrown up like & lion smell- ing freshmeat. The plank quivered beneath his ponderous tread. His huge mustache trailed back over his set jaws, his hair bristled and his big hairy arms were.swollen ang bare to the elbows, for he had thrown off his hat and coat on the dock. He paused at the top for just one moment, then, with a roar llke breakers on a reef, he bounded to the deck. The watchman says he never saw such a wild scramble—it couldn’t be compared to the panic at Waikiki, when the tiger got loose in the circus menagerie. Not only the ship but «for the Aloha's crew just then. The ghost seized a capstan bar from the rack at the break of the poop and charged amidships. Five of the men leaped overboard and swam frantic- He really didn’t swear by the Flying Dutchman's figurehead; it was some- thing decidedly more expressive than that. The captain recovered—no drowned man could swear like that, no lving man could swear like that but Trig Olafsen, in flesh and blood. The skipper and the mate approach- ed each other, but what they said the watchman could not hear. Finally both went below into the cabin. None of the mate’s watch came aboard that night, The men of the other watch came straggling aboard toward dusk. They had no gulilty con- sclences to keep them away. The others made for the hills up by the Pall and were captured by the police next day and broughf aboard in irons. The mate himself conducted the hunt, but lodged no complaint against them —he only wanted them with him on the passage to Frisco. Of course he left Honolulu on the Aloha as mate. The record of that passage is lost to authentic history, but occasionally you meet a sailor who will tell you that there really is a hell, because he has been there. The port watch of the Aloha reached Frisco allve that passage, but they were car- ried ashore on stretchers aboard the marine hospital launch. Nor was Trig Olafsen ever heard to complain of hav- ing gone unavenged. He always refers to that passage with a big complaisant smile that sends his two-lip whiskers up ke bull horns. Now to his story. He only tells it when he is drunk. He weeps and laughs by turns, but you do neither— you listen, spell-bound. And after he has finished you know why the Vik- ings of old ruled the sea. He begins by swearing at the spank- er sheet block. Never trust a spanker sheet block when it jams. You can’t depend on it; it's treacherous, he says. It usually takes five beers to bring him through a treatise on its proper man- agement. About then he will plunge into his story, as he plungéd into the tropical sea ‘that dark morning. ‘When he rose he saw the Aloha's stern fading into the darkness. “Haul in on your fore braces,” he roared, expecting to hear the shouts of the watch and the rattle of blocks and cordage. But he heard only the lapping of the still seething wake about him, and then suddenly he re- alized -the truth. The stern light dwindled and at last danced far away, a mere speck. I can see him yet as he described that moment. The dark pupils of his pale-blue eyes spread, and those big mustaches stood straight out as though he had a stick between his clenched teeth. “De hounds,” he grinds, “dey vill leave me—fannen bfannda mig—dey vill leave me. Not even a lifebelt dey trow. me—but I kan swim—by God— I kan swim—and I vhill not sink—by God. Hey, you lubbers!” Here he roars as he did in the water. “You hear me, you damned dogs! I kan swim, and I swim clear to hell before I gives up! I vill swim to Honolulu, and if I can't tow my blasted carcass dat far—I swim in spirit. I vill haunt you—on de night vatches—I will haunt you till you yoump overboard!"” He doesn’t say so0, but you know laughing and thé whole island was much too small that he peeled off his clothes and struck out after the ship. His power- ful jaw is set, and the muscles under his ears are like huge walnuts. When he sees the bark, by the light of the breaking dawn, miles ahead, and they As he mounts the face the color of a snake's belly, his dock. Two fled to the rigging and the crest of a wave he sees a boat put off. eyes bulging. to swear at him, rigid gaze, horror them. over the busy scene. All eyes were fixed on something on the dock. Picking its way through the line of freight cars on the wharf came the towering figure of the “drowned” mate —Trig Olafsen. The apparition leaped clear of a coal pile and landed at the foot of the gangway. The cabin boy, cleaning the gangway brass, looked up, gave a frightened scream and bolted down into the cabin. but following his likewise stiffened Only one man about there had never skylight, white as a water-soaked and go on. seen the mate’s big figure, and he was the dock watchman. As he did not see anything particularly ghostly in it this first time, and besides, had a pretty clear conscience, he took no part’ in nearly ten feet. Up the track they pelted, Trig Olafsen after them, hurl- Complete stiliness had come ing the capstan bar ahead of him, me. picking it up again when he got to it, and roaring out blood-curdling oaths in Norse and English all the while, - Here the watchman became hysteri- cal and saw no more until Olafsen re- appeared on the deserted deck, roar- ing and fuming among the empty coal buckets and using most unghostly lan- guage. Then the skipper came up from below and staggered against the corpse. “What In de name of de Flying Dutchman’s figurehead ye starin’ at me like dat for?" roared Trig Olat- sen. i far better fun than people dream ng the chimney stacks and Stevenson asteep & wires."—R. L. VER three years ago a tired man eft his office in San Francisco to gather dust and his clients to compromise and went a-fishing. When he came k—quite made over les of the cold thin the Northern red- 0 in his perfectly American ke way he quietly consult- maps—very good s, t and haunted the dingy land strange t « he Government off such purpose that a year later he prised and charmed his family by carrying them off sectionally to the forests Mendocino, where they not only acquired merit in the s of camp living but the begin- ning of a titie to some acres of glor- jous virgin forest. Five years of life in the gemi- tropics of California teaches one for- ever the blessedness of a tree. Its in- estimable value in the semi-arid land- “scape; its breath of coolness; its be- nign shelter. Think, then, af the unanimity of the family determination when it was told that far off and obscure there were #till one or two—and literally only one or two—sections of the forest still open under the State homestead . law. If possible and at sacrifice one must own a few Sequolas—if only to put one tiny barrier before the ruthless ax- man, who, with the Eastern million- aire at his broad back, is buying and burning and cutting everywhere over the splendid coast woods of California. To the idea of “an investment” we were perfectly cold, but as a tree of one's own we glowed. For we had come safely but wholly ingloriously through the stages of real estate, oll stocks and gold certificates no richer except in hopes deferred and some philosophy. But as neither native mor adopted Californian thinks twice of distances, to go one hundred and twenty-five miles for a summer camp, with the forest primeval thrown in, seemed rather a privilege than a burden. Homestead requires the proper fling of applications in the land offices; the speedy bullding of a cabin and the sleeping upon the claim not less often than twice a year until the purchase at the end of fourteen months, or un- til by a continued residence of five years the claim is fully established with no other cost than this implies. Naturally on full Intention at first is to “buy 1 as the phrase goes, for one cannot travel always to one #pot, for one's leisure and the law per- mits of no substitute sleepers. Prices range from $2 to $7 an acre, as the land has different values and is apt to be worth much more if one can afford to await the coming of the rail- roads even if chosen merely as in- vestment. It was therefore with hbarts at rest both commercially and estheti- cally that our mutual minds were made up to visit for its first holding down a bit of redwood forest on the Indian River—after it has decided to let go its dignity and become a creek. How deliciously, adorably alike are all real “country towns" everywhere. 8o full of the good, plain, common American life as far from outer poet- ry as it is full of inner worth. Arranging with one of the wood wag- ons going out empty at dawn to take us and our possible penates, we spend’ the active hours of the afternoon gath- ering them to a central point for great- er ease in the morning, our tinned things haying been cannily purchased in the city and sent by freight rates fitted to campers’ purses and ideas. Each of the quartet has a light down quilt, fully protected by a canvas cover, sewed firmly but provisionally into a sleeping bag which can be turned out in the sun during the daylight. Thesq with a bale of clean straw make the bedding, especially as we need fear no rain. Nails, hinges, a lock and one or two modest sets of “lights,” as they are called, are all the purchases for the cabin-to-be, as the rest will be found on the spot. For two men will select what their woodcraft tells them is a “good shake tree” and in a few hours the little wilderness abode in the clean primeval woods will be ready, as sim- # BUYING A CALIFORNIA REDWOOD-- The others were about rest sprang to the dock, a drop of Here he usually laughs. “By gum—it vas funny. You know ~dat damn skipper—he tink he find Dey hunt all over—and I vas six miles astern—ha, ha, ha, hal!—it vas funny. I don’t even shout. Vat's de use? I joost larfs and larfs—vay out dere in de vater.” And he goes off into another spasm of merriment. Here he pauses, nor does he resume until he has disposed of two more beers. His mustache droops again, the fierce glare returns into those sea-gray eyes. “Den dey brace up de foreyards again You see, dey goes on, vile I swims after, six—seven—eight aiies astern. You tink I vill drown? Not much. I kan swim—clear to Honolulu —or hell. I doesn’t care vitch—only I gets to dose fellers. I vants to meet lTAF SIN THE SWIFFING: MATE 2198 ;ONHICHSEN ez S APIES aem “But ain’t dot the worst ting you ever heard of, to leave a shipmate to drown in a smood sea? Vould you do dat to your worst enemy?” Here he waxes sentimental and siob- bers through a dissertation on the eth- ics of shipmate fellowship. He wants you to understand he never hit a fel- low ‘when he was down, especially a shipmate. “Would you see a fellow drop over- board and not ralse the ery? No, you wouldn’t—net even if it was the Chi- nese cook.” A few more drinks wash away the tears. Again he bristles. “But I gets even wid dem! drown—I vill not—I vill not!* He fairly roars this, and Trig’s roar is a few keys lower than a bull's bel- low. “No! I vill swim after dot fang of larrikins till I lays my paws on dem. You bet!” On he goes. With him you see the white sails fade out on the horizom, and with him you are alone in the great circle. Drunk as he is, he speaks distinctly now, carefully articulates each word, Have you ever been out in a small boat, alone with the gulls, a clear horizon and land a thousand miles away! No! He has. It's a sen- sation that sets the entrails wriggling within you. “But think, then,” he continues, pointing & huge gnarled forefinger at you, “think, then—how would you feel without a boat in midocean, with a clear horizon about you? How would you feel then?” You know—with his eyes looking into yours. You know you would throw up your hands and sink. But no—aot with that flery hate in you that burns in your very bowels. You would swim —swim—swim! You are always with him—with him as he treads water, or strikes out, or floats, looking up Into the blue cloud- less sky. You see the froth in his fiery hair, the spume in his tawny mus- tache, sometimes floating about his mouth like a seaweed, and those buge white limbs moving under water. And you see that broad, square chin beat agalnst the wavelets llke the prow of a Viking pirate ship. So he fought, ten long hours—fought while the sun climbed up the center of the metaliic dome of the heavens and began to de- scend again, and the screaming gulls circled about his head and even lighted near by. Here he pauses once more, and tells you he sank—only for a second, mimnd you, but he sank. A plcture flashed before him. He saw the men of his watch stalking about the streets of Honolulu. He saw them in the &drink- ing shops leaning against the bars. e heard them telling how he had drowned and they chuckled and ogled one another. He saw big Steve grin as he said: “Poor sucker, we'd ‘a’ picked him up if we could.” Sink! Never! He could swim—a thousand miles. He could swim in spite of hell itself. He must have been a fearsome sight then, shooting up again above the sur- face like a sea demon, shouting venge- ance. Never! He will swim—swim— swim—swim! By this time he is pretty drunk. If he wers an ordinary man you would say he was nervously unstrung. But Trig Olafsen has no nerves, so he’sonly beastly drunk. But still you feel the thrill of fire in that last spurt. Here he gets maudlin and funny at once and you can’t quits make out what happened. You know he saw I vill Dot more, but you have the tale. at the huge, drunken brute before —ugly, uncouth, hercie, drunk—eand in spite of all a thrill of admiration comes over you. And you feel that the Vikings mmust have been just such hercic brutes. (Copyright, 1908, by Albert Sonnichsen) By Dorothea Moore % ple and beautifully complete as if a Ruskin himself has had the supervis- ing. For how can one commit crimes with just an ax and a straight, smooth redwood tree? All the psychology of the occasion demands and gets sim- plicity, As we leave the railroad town at 6 o'clock, our big horses, delighted no doubt at so light a load, but not to be surprised out of the strong, quiet pace to which they are used, we have all the long, bright day before us. And we ask nothing better than this slow circling of the flank of the mountain, around us fields glowing In the thou- sand rich browns of a California sum- mer and each mile opening fresh vistas of far wooded ranges as tenderly blue and tremulous as the tiny bluettes of the roadside. Before we have quite left the open foothill country we hear the bells ringing on the arched yokes of the approaching teams, warning us that we must meet at the “turnouts.” plentifully “placed along this splendid county road. By noon we are near the “tap o' the hill.” We still have the brilliant, glow- ing mahogany of the madrona—the slendet tan oak, high-ankled and soft- skinned as an Eastern birch. Still there are abundant wild flowers, purple ‘and white and gold. Oh, gold of all tints! And then at last the sequoia—a very prince royal of trees. The long, straight stem, gray in shade and glowing In sunshine, rising with such slender dis- tinction to the sky. The few feathery branches at the top and the great spreading base, where the roots take deep hold on the good earth as the tall- plumed head swings and sways in the upper alr, the very aristocrat of trees— strong, clean and high bred. There are very few of us who would give up our bread and butter, even if it came by way of a lumber mill. And there are lumbermen now . here and there, more thickly as the knowledge of true forestry grows, who can be trusted to cut and forest their timber as scien- tifically as does Germany, who long ago learned her costly lesson. The mill within sound of whose saws our first stay was made was run on the wickedly wasteful plan of stump- age for revenue only, and was creating desolation and blackness all about. Fortunately it was but a small con- cern. The work is slow and difficult, the way out with the cut timber hard and Jong, so that as yet the trans- gressor had been able to ruin little more than one section of the finest trees. But quite apart from the abhorred traffic in trees, what courage and grit it had taken all these wilderness years. ‘We heard by and by all about it., Now the dark-eyed little wife—pretty still— has a comfortable house, with a conve- nience or two to boot; now when she cooks for nineteen men she has compe- tent help; now her two fat brown boys have a real goat and cart, and for a while every winter go to town to school. But, oh, the years gone by! when she came with only her husband, drawn over the mud with an ox team. When after a day of mighty tasks the weary man took his lantern and worked until midnight at road-making that fortune might come to meet them; days of ill- ness, of cruel anxiety, of accident far from surgeon or nurse—all this had been a daily part of the past of these two brave and loving people. A day and night at the camp of the Three Trees, where were, indeed, all the comforts of home—stoves, lamps, mir- rofs and cupboards—made us only the more eager to get clear away by the Icnely, lovely trail to the deep brown pools of the tiny Indlan River, where was to be our own Camp of Comfort. ‘With tender old memories of fishing days on the “brown stream” of White- face and about Chocorua one could not promise not to take out a trout or two, but the deer might come upon us, un- afrald, and even the cats and foxes might keep house at a respectful dis- tance and the chipmunks have the freedom of the hearth. The trail winding sq as to make a good five miles ‘of ‘- what the laziest crow could fly in one was almost of the picnic variety for ease until one reached the last half mile of under- brush. Here new trail had to be made, both for man and beast. The forest is neither damp nor dark, but kindly, warm and cheery, with open glades full of flowers and long grass. The trail rises sharply from the mill settlement and follows round tha shoulder of the mountain into valley after valley where, between the trunks of the redwoods, we can see clearings and purple ranges, and at last the sea itself for a moment beyond miles. of serried growth yet too remote for any but the hunter. We are even hero not to be without neighbors, for twice in the five miles we come upon small cabins walting, closed ahd clean, for their summer owners to - come and make them alive again. In a very short time our two skilled ‘woodsmen make a trafl to the spot chosen for the house—a sunny opening twenty yards from a big pool. Here we slept and at dawn returned upon our way. this being but a beginning to be carried out at a later visit. Thus ended the quest of our first red- wood. We came back to the city to dream of it all the days and nights of the six months which must pass untfl we go again. For our “home- stead” is now legally established and needs only perseverance and time to settle its permanency. And now we are waiting for the :1st of November—for then we shall make the dearest of joys out of a duty and must go up once more. ‘The next visit will see the house com- pleted and the time of real residence begin. Three straight trees about my head, ‘Warm, brown, piny earth my bed, Sunset and stars and solemn dawn, 1 feel God's great World swinging. om. DOROTHEA MOORE.