| Show WAKEMANS wanderings LONDON march 6 1893 there is al ways a deeply pathetic side to travel free as ones heart may be from sights and shadows many times as you may have witnessed it there is a little drama always performed as the great ocean steamers leave the port of new york which brings the mist to your land landward wara looking eyes if you are a first tripper it will thrill you deeper still you have perhaps wondered what that bronzed faced man in in citizens clothing was doing up there among the be spangled officers upon the bridge he seems the quietest fellow on board his eyes are singling out the row of channel buoys or with a glass rapidly scanning the lower jersey shores and the gleaming lines of the long island sands or again glancing at this point or that along the sea horizon his is an anxious face the lines in it unconsciously picture the human look that tells of something lost or ot of great danger that there may be I 1 have seen men like him stand where he is with that same look and the perspiration 0 n dropping from their faces in streams in in the coldest of weather S this man is not the ships captain but while he stands there now and then giving ving a low toned order he is absolutely fly commander of the ship he is a new york pilot detailed from the lower wall st street reet pilot office to take 11 your 0 ur shi ship to sea in ordinary cases his fee e would be base based d upon the ships tonnage with the larger ocean steamships a lumped jumped p price rr i e is made he must remain remain aboard until ia S sandy andy hook is passed and as much further out as the steamer captain desires if it be pleasant weather when you are abreast of 01 sandy hook you will notice a rowboat row boat yawl built manned by two men putting out from the lightship anchored between your steamer and the hook this lightship is simply a new york harbor pilot boat by pilot regulations made to do her I 1 turn ot of a months stand in this unsavory though often exciting birth her crew are pilots prentices getting their first les sons and experience at pilots duties and hardships the boat being rowed briskly towards your steamer in the channel is called a pilots punt and the two oarsmen oarsman are built prentice lads of eighteen or twenty years of age at the same moment the punt heads for the steamer the batters lat engines slow lown iown the punt and the steamer meet at the point of an exact right angle lines are cast the punt made fast to float alongside the ships port side and the rope ladder is lowered meantime the pilot has resigned his post on the bridge the chief officer imm immediately e takes his place stepping to the chartroom chart room the pilot certifies in the logbook log book that the ship has duly cleared the port of new york the ships commander certifies to the pilots fee ee which is paid by the new york agents of the line and in a moment more the pilot is dropped into the waiting punt by the ships rail stands the purser or the mail steward A thousand addenda goodbyes good byes have been hastily written sealed and stamped and hundreds ol of telegrams incited indi ted between the docks and the hook these the last slender thread between land and home and the unalterable finality of your voyage are let down by line to the pilot who takes them as with unconsciousness ness tenderness in his arms in another instant the ships engines are again thundering the rhe pilots punt shoots straight for the lightship the officer on the bridge nods to the boatswain whose shrill whistle strikes the flags the quartermasters bring down the shi ships ps three flags the blue peter or sailing sailing day flag from the foremast the owners or house flag from th the r mainmast and the ensign from the gaff as a dead shot hunter will bring some gay bird of passage from its flight guiv to his feet A farewell cheer rings out over the port side after th the e ge departing parting pilot your voyage is now irrevocable begun el deserter deser tar el deserter deser tar were the low toned ejaculations I 1 h heard eard all about me one april morning in 1886 in the cabin of the ferryboat edouard fesser as it left the regla side for the two mile trip across havana bay to the city the cabin was well filled and in a moment there came fussing and fuming through he narrow passage to the forward cabin a spanish sergeant and a guard having in charge a man of most pitiable appearance I 1 made room quickly so that two seats were vacant near me in which the guard and his prisoner s sat it the latter next me while the sergeant bearing a paper with a dangling seal sea strode forward a bit pompous with the importance of his mission mission and charge these ferries carry the gayest of crowds between havana and the beautiful suburbs to the east but the entrance of the party hushed the laughter and pleasant sallies of men and women instantly 1 all present seemed painfully exerting themselves to ignore the presence of the little group but every one from time to time stole secret glances at the deserter desert erand and well for humanity not a hard look fell upon him some old priests near seemed to be moving their lips as if in prayer for him and behind many a fan I 1 could see the lace face of some beautiful senora or senorita in tears I 1 knew well enough what it all meant having once been a soldier but I 1 did not at once eaten the full import of the brutal celerity of spanish military revenge shortly the guard closed a flippant recital to a passenger csenger near him to the effect that tc the man had deserted from the forces at moro castle some weeks before after a tremendous flogging for some slight infraction of discipline had got so far as the jaruco haruco mountains where he baffled pursuit for some time but finally had been run down by bloodhounds blood bloo hounds ah yes he be airily concluded he will really not even need breakfast again the consejo de guerra court martial martia 0 is is already awaiting his arrival the deserter was but a boy he had a fair face too round almost boyish even through the hunted look that had made him an old man in terror and desperate effort during those few weeks in the chaparral his clothing was in ra rags and his bare flesh scarred and bloo bloody Y showed through his feet were partly bound with rags and bark and thongs of the ribbon tree he was bare headd his hear tangled and knotty and in one place a saber cut was i till open and bleeding but he sat there with his hands clenched and his face like a piece of marble be grimed with mud through the windows of the ferry the spars rigging and flags of a thousand ships upon the peaceful bay gleamed and glowed as we passed the sun that lighted the whole earth with such splendor kissed the mountain and made old moro castle even beautiful the deserter looked at moro as with an awful fascination then as if beyond it and what he knew was waiting for him there the poor fellows eyes seemed seemed stra strained inid to some point far far away ah his frantic soul vaulted the hated walls to old castile mayhap to disown his own peasant home to the mother the sisters to a peasant girls thatched roof home by the vineyards and brave as he was trying dying to be his whole frame writhed nis his breast heaved and surged and though he clinched his hands bands tighter a and nd looked old moro squarely in the face his blue eyes filled and filled again with tears that scalded their way through the chaparral filth on his face like torrents A dozen schemes for rescue shot through my brain the sights and thoughts sickened me I 1 could scarcely remain in that cabin for the pity this man roused in me having recently suddenly graduated from the editorship of a high grade literary periodical of middle america my sole helpful possessions in cuba at that moment were a sm small al I 1 p piece bece of plu plug tobacco and a 2 i bank of havana dalf balf I 1 quickly had these made in a compact wd wad I 1 got my knee against his leg he started and looked me full in the face my hand was on the low iron division rail between the seats and it touched his god knows a soldiers human sympathy to a soldier in some subtle way swe swept t from my heart to his in that touch Ms his clinched hand relaxed and turned the palm was next mine our hands clas clasped awe d and there was a quick pressure we were born thousands of miles apart had never met until that instant would w never again meet unless in eternity but we knew more of each otner other in that one moment than many lifetime acquaintances boon the ferryboat ferry boat bumped against the havana wharves through the clatter and clamor and crowds the deserter was shoved and saber prodded to the plaza de la san carlos hurried into a victoria alongside which were two mounted guards and driven rapidly away I 1 could not work that day and wandering along the te walls of la punta restless heart heartsick heartsie sic c and wit with h the white face of that desperate life ever before me at 4 just across the narrow harbor entrance were heard some ominous drum beats on the little plaza just over the sea on the heights at moro there weri movements of small squads of soldiery we could c see all this plainly from la punta I 1 feared what it meant could not bear it and hurried away just as I 1 reached the old boquete walls there was a sound of musketry at moro I 1 looked across the channel and saw the smoke from their pieces well nigh en folding them all but I 1 saw through and through that cloud one face sealed in eternal rest when some old fish wives on the walls near crossing themselves as if it were an old habit and for like occasions lazily muttered el deser deserter tar el ei deserter deser tar tarl at every little station in ireland from galway or tralee aralee eastward from dublin or wexford westward and along the lines converging at or towards mallow and thence to cork sad eyed conveying parties may be seen waiting for the last embrace hand band pressure or glimpse or the departing emigrant for america and if you were in in ireland and would ride in in the third class carriages as I 1 do and could see each little compartment packed with from twenty to thirty of these emigrants on their way to cork or queenstown Queens town you would for the first time in your life realize the woe of those who go to an extent that you would have more compassion for those who come and then at halfway at blackpool brackpool Black pool at blarney on scramble the beggar crew who eke a livelihood from the hysterical tenderhearted tender hearted and simple folk who are found on every one of these trains departing legless pi pipers ers pipe most patriotic airs blind to delers fiddlers fidd lers set all the breasts heaving and eyes weeping from 3 their tender irish melodies while blind minstrels roar the harp and the shamrock of ireland pennies ram rain into their cups and hats like drop ripe wheat shaken by the wind through this lugubrious misery all are straining their tear dimmed sight for a last look at the warm vales and nestling homes of Ir elands tender south suddenly the din of the heroic minstrel music is almost drowned in in the thunder of the train rushing through the long tunnel ireland beloved ireland is for the first time blotted out of sight the minor cords of the pipes and fiddles are no match for the resistless failings wailings wai tings lings now sobs moans groans and pitiful exclamations of endearment swell into such a touching and grew some as your ears never before heard in a flash you are in the light again and here half way up the noble heights of the beautiful city of cork in a pandemonium and hubbub infernal the half a thousand tortured souls are shunted out of their vile pens shunted into other vile pens and whirled away to queenstown Queens town amid merciless robbers and murderous Crun runners ners to await packing and prodding into the great steamers holds and embarking brutalities which are a cruel blight upon the civilization of our time there are two of the sounds of the early english morning which haunt me with persistent piteousness so long have I 1 heard them and brooded blooded over their sad suggestiveness that in whatever country L happen to be wandering and however leaden may be my slumber I 1 am certain to awaken at the hour to hear their grew some echoes across the land or sea these a e the clatter clatter clatter of the hobnailed hob nailed shoes of thousands ot of factory hands on their way to their daily toil and the hacking whistling coughing of hundreds among them in all english towns and cities when biding at any public hostelry you may hear the first of this at four in the morn ing A quick sharp ringing of the hob nails on the pavement by one or two or a group of half a dozen of these toilers boilers will form the prelude then for a few moments all will be still again increased clatter by larger squads and more pronounced coughing soon the beating of their feet will grow into almost a roar by five the sound is deafening an army in defeat over a stone road could make no greater din if you will listen now you may mav distinguish all the majors and minors there is is the screeching of the swin swinging g ing pails the halting and stumbling of the feeble the popping sound of myriad pipe duffings puff ings the sodden salute and sententious tent ious rejoinders rejo inders of acquaintances the shrill black guarding of vixens vibens the liquid tones of maidens and children the shuffling wheezing of the old the almost barking coughing of so many telling that the term of the slavish lite is set and in and through all the pitiful hubbub is the sure revelation of the propulsive force of dread and fear linked with the lagging of weakness and want out there in the tj fe dank dark or the misty gray of the early morning in in these sounds a dreadful story is told if you love america you will brood over these sounds as I 1 have done and fervently pray ray that our towns and cities are not to become become like these that the few may be rich and glad and the many slavish and sad EDGAR L WAKEMAN |
