Drops of spray from southern seas

Chapter I. Memories Of Home

I was born in the prosperous town of Milbridge, Maine, situated on the Narraguagus River, five miles from the open sea, and to me the dearest place on earth. My father was a sea captain, James Brown by name, who always went on deep sea voyages and who, unlike the majority of captains, was glad to have his family accompany him.

Our family at that time consisted of my mother, my lister Annie, two years my senior, and myself. We lived in a very pretty house overlooking the blue waters of the bay. The large yard in front of the house, enclosed

O DROPS OF SPRAY

by a white fence, made a fine playground. In this yard were a number of large, tall trees, any one of which I could climb, even to its top, with the exception of a big poplar which stood exactly in the center of the yard and whose smooth trunk defied my utmost efforts. My sister never climbed trees nor swung on the gate. She was quiet and sedate and always exercised a motherly care over me, who was a sad tomboy, I fear, always up to some mischief or other.

A short distance from our home was a creek spanned by a wooden bridge, at low tide a fascinating spot in which to play. We children were generally forbidden to play there but sometimes we would steal off without asking permission. At low tide the ledges were left high and dry, with little pools of water in the hollows in which sported tiny, silvery minnows. We called these our children and carried them about from one pool to another. Across the creek lay a large flat rock, the surface of which was worn as smooth as glass from the constant friction of the water which at this point was swift. Even at low tide this rock was covered to a depth of several inches.

We used to see who could walk across that rock without falling in, a feat which was extremely difficult, and which I never remember to have accomplished, as the rock was covered with a slimy, green moss. I would start with the firm determination to cross that rock or

FROM SOUTHERN SEAS. V

die and I would generally get about half way when down I would go with a splash and when I scrambled out the starch would be taken out of me as well as my clean dress, which mother had put on only that morning, with strict injunctions to keep away from that creek and not soil my clothes. And as I thought of the whipping which loomed up before me, my heart sank and my fun for that day was over.

Did any of my readers ever witness a launching ? To those who never have I will say that you have missed a grand spectacle. Milbridge used to be a great shipbuilding town, sometimes as many as four large vessels being launched in one year. The business is still carried on to some extent there but steamers are largely crowding sailing vessels out. There is as much excitement about a launching as there is when a big circus, comes to town and everybody turns out to see the parade. On the all-important day crowds begin to gatherearly in the morning so as to make sure and not miss it. The launching usually takes place about ten o'clock in the morning. If school is keeping the pupils are given a holiday. They all hurry to the shipyard. The ways have been well slushed to enable the vessel to glide over them easily. How handsome, how stately she is, covered with her flags and streamers which flutter gaily in the bright sunshine. How we envied the favored few on her decks and wished ourselves among them. The lady chosen for the honor of christening the vessel stands in the bow with a bottle of wine in her hands, gaily decorated with ribbon streamers of red, white and blue.

Off in the stream the tugboat waits, impatient for its fair charge. Now comes the ringing sound of axes, blow on blow. The men are hard at work knocking out the wedges. At last, all are out but one. Only that small wedge holds the vast structure back. It's a dangerous piece of work to knock that remaining wedge out. One man seizes his axe, knocks it out, and with lightning-like rapidity springs back out of the reach of the falling timbers. She starts, gathering headway every instant, while ringing cheers from the crowded yard rend the air. She strikes the water with a swift rush, sending a huge green wave curling from under her stern. As she moves she is christened, the bottle of wine goes crashing across her bows, and the ruby fluid trickles down over her white coat of paint. The tug catches and holds her fast, and now she rests quietly on the calm water, looking like a stately swan, so beautiful, so graceful is she. Presently she is towed to the wharf, where she will take in ballast for New York or Boston.

No matter how many launchings one has seen, one never tires. There seems to be a subtle fascination about them somehow.

How odd the yard looks after it is over. Imagine a big meeting house in process of construction for months, and, finally being completed, suddenly removed, and you will have a fair idea of how deserted a shipyard looks after a launching.

Then there were the picnics, down among the Islands. What enjoyable times they were ! Trafton's Island was generally chosen, as it was easy of access and had a beautiful grove, which sloped down to the water's edge, and a fine stretch of sandy beach. There would be generally eight or ten families invited on these excursions. Sometimes we would have a chowder, sometimes a clambake. If a chowder was decided on, then the men would take the boat and proceed down the bay, where cod, haddock, and a number of other varieties of fish abounded, while the women set the tables and made everything ready. Nothing ever tasted half so good to me as did those delicious chowders, eaten under the trees, with the sound of the surf in our ears as it broke gently on the beach, and the salt breeze blowing in our faces. In the afternoon we children would play games, or wander along the shore, gathering shells or tiny colored rocks. Sometimes we would find a beautiful pink starfish, which had been cast up by the waves. But in spite of their beauty, we would pass them by, as their odor is anything but agreeable. And so, all too quickly, the day fades into the dim eternity, and when the moon rises, smiling and serene, and begins her journey across the heavens, changing the waters of the bay into a sheet of silvery radiance, we turn our faces homeward,, enlivening the way with song and merry chat. I was always sorry when we reached the wharf, and our long, pleasant day was gone.

Another favorite spot for picnics is Baldwin Head, which is reached by teams. For those who enjoy surf bathing it is an ideal spot, as the surf is very heavy. I remember one day in particular, when a party of merry people were quietly enjoying their dinner, there suddenly rolled up a terrific thunder shower. The hailstones, as large as robins' eggs, demolished their pies, spoiled their dinner, and frightened their horses, so that they were obliged to make all speed for home.

Then in September there would be excursions to the great Blueberry Plains of Cherryfield, situated about sixteen miles from Milbriclge. We would start very early in the morning, and arrive there about time for dinner. That over, the fun would commence. Such a sight ! For miles and miles stretch the Plains, with scarcely a tree in sight, and the ground fairly blue with the berries. And such berries ! Large, sweet and juicy - Whole families, among the poorer classes, pitch their tents here during the season and do a prosperous business picking the berries for the numerous canning factories.

Chapter II. Yellow Jack

I went to sea from earliest infancy, and always enjoyed it. Mother used to say I was more at home on the water than I was on the land.

I will relate a few incidents which happened at this period of my life, from notes furnished me by my father. We were in Havana, when the yellow fever or Yellow Jack, as it is called, was raging with great fury and hundreds were dying every day. I was two years old at the time. One after another of our crew was stricken •down with the dread scourge, until barely enough remained to work the ship. Our only hope lay in getting out to sea, away from this pesthole. So father made all haste to conclude his business on shore and get away. On the last trip ashore he had to make he was suddenly stricken down. He was brought back on board, and gave orders to put to sea at once. His orders were carried out by the remaining two or three men who were still unscathed. If a gale had suddenly sprung up, as frequently happens in this region, we probably should have all gone to the bottom, as there weren't men enough to work the vessel properly. At the end of a week, every soul on board, myself included, was down with the sole exception of mother. Happily, none died and as the fever works very rapidly, those who had been taken first were now able to crawl weakly around, and see to things after a. fashion and, as the weather continued fine, we passed safely through the crisis.

When I was five years old we were again in Cuba T where I very nearly lost my life. Our vessel, the brig Tariffa, lay at anchor in the stream, discharging her cargo by lighters- The harbor fairly swarmed with sharks, and one could see them gliding along on every side, their dorsal fins cleaving the water like knives. Father usually went on shore in the morning, returning at six o'clock. He never failed to bring us something nice from shore, and we used to watch eagerly for his return. The day came when the last lighter load was about to start shoreward, and we were all on deck watching our own boat, which had just put out from the wharf and was rapidly nearing us. I had been eating a banana and ran to the opposite side of the deck to throw the skin overboard. As I dashed up against the ropes which were fastened across the gangway, and were old and rotten, they parted, and I shot through them and struck the water between the lighter and the vessel.

Oh, that awful gurgling in my ears, that awful suffocation ! Shall I ever forget it ? Young as I was, it will remain stamped on my memory while life lasts. None had missed me on the ship, as the men were at work in the hold, and mother had neither heard my stifled scream, nor seen me' fall. The lighter was manned with Spaniards, and they, although expert swimmers, do not dare to risk their lives in that hotbed of sharks. I came to the surface, but out of reach. Would no one save me ! Again I sank slowly from view. Suddenly a bright idea came to the Spaniards. One of them leaned far out over the lighter, another grasped him by the feet, and the second time I rose I was caught by my dress, carried on board, and laid dripping and unconscious in my mother's arms, just as my father stepped on board. It was a miracle that I was saved.

Another important event in my early life occurred in Scotland, which I will relate briefly. We were in Greenock, and visited Edinburgh by the fast express called the Flying Scotchman, at that time considered the fastest train in the world. We visited the castle of that illfated Queen, Mary of Scots, the most beautiful queen of her day, and went into her bed chamber where everything was just as she had quitted it on that awful morning when she was carried forth to her execution, centuries before. We saw the blood stains on the floor of the throne room, where her hapless lover was stabbed to death by her order even while clinging to her dress, and, begging for mercy, was finally dragged from the apartment, while his life-blood sprinkled the floor. Before we left, father set me in her throne-chair, playfully remarking that I should occupy a throne for once in my life at all events. It was evening when we returned and we passed many coal mines, some of which were burning, and vomiting forth great volumes of lurid flame, which looked very weird in the darkness as we rushed past.

From Greenock we sailed for Falmouth, England, and I had an extremely pleasant time, I remember, in that place. My sister did not accompany us on this voyage, but stayed at home with my Grandmother Wallace. So I was very lonesome, and was overjoyed to get acquainted with the American consul's little daughter, Jessie Newton. We became great friends, and many a happy hour did we spend together in childish play, sometimes at her beautiful home, and sometimes on our ship.

I remember one day in particular, when we came very near getting lost in the streets of Falmouth. There was a fine lawn surrounding her home, not large, but laid out very prettily with flower beds and separated from the street by an ornamental iron fence. We could play as long as we liked on the lawn, but were forbidden to go on the street. About six o'clock we heard a great commotion farther down the street and saw men and even women running past. In a twinkling Jessie and I were on the street and were carried swiftly along with the crowd. At no other place in the world does a street fight draw such a crowd as in England, or in France. The parties chiefly concerned were two brawny sailors and the crowd took sides and urged them on with hoots and yells until the tardy policemen came rushing in, using their billies right and left, and promptly arrested the twomen, who, with shirts torn from their backs and faces cut and bleeding, were dragged away. Then we began to get frightened, as we did not know which way to turn,., when we saw father hurrying towards us, with a white, anxious face. We never ran away again, you may depend. When the time came for us to leave Falmouth, I was inconsolable at the thought of parting with my charming little friend.

On our next voyage, some three years later, we made a short visit to Stetin, Germany, my sister accompanying us. We were there during the summer season. It is a lovely place, though not large. Much like a country village. It is situated very far north, and its winters are long and cold and dark ; its summers warm but short. During the summer months the sun does not set until nine o'clock in the evening, while it rises at three in the morning, and it is not really dark at all, but rather more like dim twilight. One can see to read fine print on deck all night if one wishes. Mother used to hang a thick shawl across the windows in order that we misrht sleep. I grew very tired of it after the novelty wore off, and wished heartily that I was back in my own country, where night brought the silent darkness so refreshing to tired nerves. The water of the river here was fresh, though close to the sea. On one side lay the town, while the other side was divided into farms. As there was deep water close in shore, we lay very near to the side on which the farms were situated. It was a fine chance to play as there was no houses very near, and quite often we were allowed this privilege. The men would set us on shore and return to the vessel, and when we were tired and wished to return, we had only to wave our handkerchiefs, when they would come for us. And what a treat it was to us, confined within the warm limits of a vessel, to be able to run and play on the beautiful green grass, .soft as velvet, and spangled with all sorts of wild flowers, the like of which we had never seen elsewhere.

One day I met with a mishap, which was nothing uncommon for me. We were enjoying a game of tag and I .slipped and fell into a bed of poisonous nettles and both knees were badly stung. The pain was worse than hornet stings and how I did scream ! My knees were soon badly swollen and had a curious chalky, mottled appearance. Annie bathed them in the water but that made the pain worse. She then gave the signal to return but it seemed an age before we espied the boat coming to •our relief. It had been sent on shore for father ; hence the delay. Although we were in Stetin for several days after this, I never went on shore to play again.

From Stetin we cruised up the Baltic, touching at various ports wherever the best freights were offered, and it was winter before we finally set sail for New York, where mother decided to go home to Milbridge, while father made a trip to the East Indies.

Chapter III. Through Storm And Darkness

We had friends in New York whom we wished tovisit, so shortly before our departure for Milbridge we went to spend a day or two with them. On arriving, we found their children down with measles. Neither mother nor I had ever had the disease, and against her better judgment mother yielded to the entreaties of her friend to stay. But it was at the bitter cost of her own life, as after events proved. Two days later we bade a tearful good-bye to father and took the steamer to Boston. It was extremely rough and bitterly cold, the spray freezing as it fell. Outside of Hell's Gate we encountered a furious gale. The captain was obliged to bank the fires and lay to under a storm try -sail. Annie was sick and frightened, as she always was in a heavy gale, and kept her berth all the way. But I rather enjoyed it.

It was four days before we were able to proceed and, as we had been blown a few miles oft' our course, six before we steamed into Boston harbor. As soon as we^ arrived, a telegram was sent to father, who must have been half wild with anxiety because we were so longoverdue. We were driven from the wharf directly to the railway station where we were to board the train for Bangor. All went well until within two miles of our destination. It was nearing midnight and the passengers were dozing in their seats, as there were no sleeping cars attached. Outside, the night was dark and stormy, and the fine particles of snow hurled themselves spitefully against the glass. Suddenly there came a terrific crash, which threw the people from their seats and caused a general alarm, which subsided somewhat as the train came to a standstill. Presently the conductor entered and informed us that the baggage car, next to ours, had been thrown from the track and turned completely on its side. He said Bangor was only a mile distant, and as the track was blocked with snow there was no hope of reaching there that night except on foot, and he should advise us to walk. There was nothing for it but to take the conductor's advice. And so, amid a chorus of complaints, wraps were donned and the passengers stepped from the warm, well-lighted car into the storm and darkness of the bitter night. The conductor went ahead with a lantern and the passengers followed after. A gentleman volunteered to carry me, so mother got along very well.

It was a long, dreary walk through the heavy, clinging snow. But good or bad, everything comes to an end. The remainder of the night was spent in a hotel, and it was two days later before we were able to proceed. Mother then hired a team to take us to Milbridge, sixty miles farther on. The morning we started was bright and sunny, but intensely cold, and the snow sparkled like diamond dust in the bright sunshine. Merrily the bells tinkled as the pair of swift horses flew over the road, seeming to sing a sweet song of home, and as the keen air smote our faces it made our cheeks tingle and lent a brighter sparkle to our eyes.

It was late when we arrived at my grandma's house in Milbridge, but mother had sent her a telegram from Bangor, so she had been expecting us, and had a roaring fire built in the fireplaces and a tempting repast all ready. Grandma lived on a farm, a mile from the town. She had six children, of whom mother was the eldest and Aunt Julia the youngest. The rest were boys, young men now, and all filling positions away from home.

The house was a delightfully old, rambling place, and we always enjoyed visiting grandma ; and no one, not even our mother, could cook as nicely as she, in our estimation. She was overjoyed at seeing us and after we had lunched we retired, as we were all very tired.

A few days later, mother and I were taken down with the measles. We were in our own home then and both grandma and Aunt Julia were with us. Mother was dangerously ill from the first, as the symptons were nodoubt aggravated by her walk through the snow on that memorable night. When at last she was pronounced out of danger, and lay white and exhausted on the pillows, we could see what ravages the disease had made in a few short weeks. Nevermore would the bloom of health return to those wasted cheeks, or the sparkle to those clear brown eyes. It was soon ascertained that her lungs were hopelessly affected with a disease which finally developed into old-fashioned consumption. Her heart was also very weak.

As for myself, I was soon as well as ever, and able to attend school. I was as far advanced as any of my classmates, as mother used to carry on our lessons while we were away. Thus a year passed and winter came again, cold and foggy. Just before Christmas, mother received a despatch which sent the blood for an instant to her white cheeks. Father had arrived in Boston and would be with us in a week. Joyful news, indeed ! I could hardly sleep or eat during the interval. One noon as we came dancing in from school, mother met us at the door with a radiant face.

"Go into the parlor, girls, and see if there is any one there you know," she said gaily.

We obeyed and were clasped close in our father'sarms. A year's absence had changed him very little. He had brought us many beautiful gifts from that Oriental world of magnificence, and had many wonderful stories to relate of his life while there — stories we never tired of hearing. And then the presents ! How they made our eyes shine ! Queer looking toys, sandal-wood boxes, beautiful Indian jewelry, camel's hair shawls, heavily embroidered with silks which, though soft and warm, could be drawn through a finger ring, so fine was their texture, delicate crape shawls, quaintly worked table covers in Oriental design, and countless other things. Nor was this all. In Boston he had bought us each a sled and a warm set of furs with cap to match. Annie's was gray, with a scarlet wing stuck jauntily in the cap, while mine was white, with a blue wing. We spent many a pleasant hour with our sleds while warmly wrapped in our furs and heeded not the cold.

Father was terribly shocked at finding mother such a ghost of her former self, and declared he would carry her to some warm climate as soon as possible, as Maine was no fit place during the damp, cold winter months for a person with weak lungs. He would not entertain the thought for a moment that her case was incurable. He would take her up to Boston and have her examined by the most learned physician in the city.

Two weeks after he came home, this plan was carried ■out. He took mother to Boston and we were left with grandma. They were absent two weeks. I had never been separated from my mother before, not even for a night, and words could not tell how much I missed her. Surely no fortnight was ever so long 1 before. When they came back, the doctor's verdict could be read in their faces. Father's was pale and sad, while mother's wore a patient, resigned look, as beautiful as it was pathetic. No words of complaint passed her pale lips, no vain regrets. God knew best ; and with a voice as calm as though she were relating a simple occurrence, she informed grandma that there was no hope.

Of course we knew nothing of this until years afterward. Mother had given her heart to God when a young girl. Many were the good deeds she performed, many and many a poor family blessed her name. She never turned a deaf ear to the tale of poverty and woe. Her purse was never closed in the face of suffering. Although life was sweet, yet death for her had no terrors.

Chapter IV. The Brig Cadet

The first of March the brig Cadet reported in Boston. The captain wished to take a vacation and as father was one of the owners, he decided to take her for a trip himself. He had never been in command of this brig before, but usually went in the Tariffa, a much larger and finer vessel. But as he was anxious to get mother away from the fog and the cold, and the latter vessel was off on a long cruise, he decided the Cadet would do better than nothing. This decision set me wild with excitement, as I thoroughly enjoyed Old Ocean.

Mother's health was very poor, and it was very doubtful if she ever saw her home and fireside in Milbridge again. But the doctor said it would prolong her life to be taken on a sea voyage. Annie was to accompany us> also mother's youngest brother, Gene, our favorite uncle.

We took the steamer Lewiston for Portland, one cold, raw morning in March. There was a stiff breeze blowing and the bay was covered with white-caps. When we reached the open sea, we found it blowing almost a gale, and very rough, with every now and then a smart dash of rain from the lowering clouds. Mother stayed in the saloon all day, and looked very fair and fragile in her dark, closely fitting travelling dress. Annie was sick and lay in her berth all day, and neither ate nor hardly spoke. But when it wasn't raining I preferred to sit on deck, where, in a sheltered corner, warmly clad, I could watch the huge green, snow-crested waves toss and battle with the plunging, laboring steamer, flinging their foam and spray in showers across the decks. Thus the day wore away, and night closed in thick and foggy. The captain did not think it advisable to proceed, so ran into Belfast and anchored. When I awoke the next day we were well on Our way. The sun was shining brightly in a cloudless sky, and but for a long, heavy swell, no trace of yesterday's storm remained. In due time we arrived in Portland. My father had a sister residing there, and we proceeded to her home, where we spent a few days very pleasantly, and then continued our journey by rail.

From the station in Boston we were driven to the American House, situated on the corner of Washington and Hanover streets, a fine hotel, though not so pretentious as the Vendome, or one or two others in Boston. Here we stopped for a week, as Captain Leighton and his wife had not yet left the Cadet. I enjoyed hotel life myself very much and was sorry when the time came for us to go.

On the following Monday we went on board. The Cadet was rather small, being only 428 tons register, with flush decks. The cabin was small, finished in mahogany and oak, the dark panels being embellished with a small painting. There was no skylight, but there were two small windows in the after part of the cabin, and one in each state-room. Annie and I occupied a room together next to the bath-room. Just opposite was mother's bed, set in an alcove, with draperies drawn across. At the foot of the bed sat a tall chest of drawers. Next was the chart room; and there you have a pen picture of our floating home. A gloomy place to live in, but to die in, far worse. Even the thick carpet of Brussels that covered the floor was dark. How much different from the light, airy, commodious quarters of the Tariffa.

The forward cabin contained a table, a Dutch-faced clock, and a swinging lamp, with a stove besides. Four state-rooms opened from the cabin, and a pantry. The galley and forecastle, of course, were well forward, as they are in all ships.