Loyola University Maryland - Evergreen / Green and Gray Yearbook (Baltimore, MD)

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10 THE LOYOLA ANNUAL Suddenly, amid the screaming wind, a seaman cried: “The cable’s parted!” We rushed aft and discerned the wreck quickly drifting into the sable gloom. We turned about and reached it and found that the cable had parted a few feet from the derelict’s bow. We fastened it and started onward. The cry came soon again : “The cable’s parted !” And again we fastened it where it had broken before. A third time, from a frightened group of superstitious sailors at the stem, the cry came. At length the captain, desirous of removing the wreck and disturbed by the triple parting of the cable, determined to place a man back on the wreck. One agreed to the task. He was placed back on the foreboding ship, but in twenty minutes the cable broke again and not a trace of the man could be found on the derelict. Both hatchways seemed to be nailed down and only the hollow sound of our shoes upon the deck broke the dreary search. The captain was desperate; his mind was made up not to allow the ship to drift away. He must place more than one man this time. He called for volunteers and four declared themselves willing to go on the lonely boat and solve the mys- tery. Fully armed and determined, they left and we that re- mained behind stood on the stern of our boat, with anxious eyes and attentive ears. But there came no sound save the doleful, steady swish of the bounding waves upon our ironclad stern. Of a sudden, we felt the ship lurch ui;ider us and again the cable fell slack. When we reached the wreck the deck was as clear as before and only the mast stood upon it, as a tombstone upon a grave. We were determined, however, to solve the mystery. This time every available man went back to the wreck, which was

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THE LOYOLA ANNUAL 9 iljjaterg 0f HE sun was slowly sinking under the restless sea, throw- ing shafts of crimson heavenward, staining and blazing the western sky. Flocks of sea birds skimmed and drifted above the silver-crested waves ; darting hither and thither were the little Carey-chicken birds, friends of wandering sailors. The gloom of night, with all its spectral shades, was dispersing the lagging streaks of light, and “Monarch,’’ our ship, sank her nose deeper and deeper into the green-hued waters and dashed them into spray. One of the crew called our attention to a boat in our course, on the northern circle of descending night. Before long we overtook it and found it to be a derelict, decayed and almost sunken. When a huge, billow lifted it higher than usual we perceived barnacles and green moss fastened to its sides. The deck was bare except for shattered boxes which lay along the stern; forty feet into the air there shot a lone mast crowned with a barrel known as the “crow’s nest.” There was no name and, seemingly, it was forsaken. As we were thus gazing upon the wreck one of the sailors suggested to tow it farther out to sea. For now it was in the path of the ocean-going steamers and there was danger of their striking it on a stormy night. The captain agreed. A towline was fastened and slowly we dragged it astern. Looking to the north we perceived large and ominous clouds that foretold a violent storm. Scarcely were we settled in the cabin before it was upon us with the rush of howling gusts, seemingly made angry by the monster in its path that prevented it from rushing with unimpeded fury over the wild and restless tract of water.

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THE LOYOLA ANNUAL 11 now short-cabled. The suspense was terrible. In a cramped position we lay, behind the few boxes in a corner, hearing the gusts whistling by the mast like a demon singing his death song. The waves beat against the sides of the slime-covered planks with a hollow, muffled roar, and the screech of the night heron hovering over the craft of death lent weirdness to the scene. The storm passed ; the friendly moon, though light- ing the still raging waters with its silvery beams seemed far- ther away than usual; even the twinkling stars appeared to sink and recede deeper into the sky, as though afraid to look upon what was about to happen. Scarcely had we chosen our places on the dismal ship when we heard an indescribable noise, muffled and guarded like the tones of an anarchist plan- ning assassination. My companions trembled beside me and I dared not speak a word. The cool night breeze bore to our ears an unearthly screech, and on hearing it we pushed our- selves farther into the corner. As we chanced to look toward the sky, out of the arc of the heavens, out of the “crow ' s nest” swaying violently in the angry blasts of air, down the creaking mast, stole four figures. I heard the click of my com- rades ' revolvers and I instantly cocked my trigger and waited. Four mysterious figures of short stature, with bent backs, noiselessly cut the cable and then searched the deck. Under the eaves of the boat’s side they went, peering here and there with quick, darting glances. Closer and closer they came. I saw the gleam of short instruments in their hands and I saw the fiendish stare in their coal-black eyes and heard, too, the short, hissing sound that they regularly emitted. One came to a stop and glared directly at me, like a mon- strous evil-eyed wolf, then he took one step closer, there was a gleam in a ray of moonlight, a swish of his arm and a shot rang out on the silence of the night.