The Dublin Progress and Telephone (Dublin, Tex.), Vol. 29, No. 33, Ed. 1 Friday, December 8, 1916 Page: 4 of 22
twenty two pages : ill. ; page 20 x 14 in. Digitized from 35 mm. microfilm.View a full description of this newspaper.
Extracted Text
The following text was automatically extracted from the image on this page using optical character recognition software:
■ ‘
m
, .........................-in, r»,~.....mi.......«...............
'•'■......"........ ' •
V.
r
f
V
A Christmas Gift From the Sea
‘And a Little Child
Shall Lead Them”
TRAM HAPSHOTT was captain of
LJF the Uriah 1!. Gasper. He had been
* * at sea thirty wars and his nature
had become grutl’ and hardened re-
ward sailors. His opinion of sailers
in general was summed up in tin* fol'ewmg:
"Taking them by and large, and making al-
lowances. I reckon the >ail. >rman as fuun.i in
our ships is half dog and half loafer; but if
you use a belaying pin judiciously you can
sometimes make a workable imitation of a
man out of him—in timed'
Mrs. Hapshotfs viewpoint of sailors was at
variance with that of her husband. Her ob-
servation of men at sea—men who are com-
monly known as sailors and who do all the
rough work aboard ship—convinced her that
the lot of the men was hard and their lives
lonely.
But Mrs. Hapshott had a sympathetic heart
due in a measure to a sadness known icily to
herself and husband, but it was never men-
tioned between them by a tacit agreement.
Twenty-five years of married life had re-
sulted in a tine endurance of maritial affec-
tion—the skippers long absences from home
might have accounted for that in some meas-
ure—the two were good friends, and bicker-
ings between them were a thing unknown.
But there had never been tiny hands to reach
up and caress the old growing faces; baby lips
had never clung to Mrs. Hapshott's broad,
deep bosom.
There had been one child ■ very many years
ago, but it only rai-a-d its voice mice m the
great world and before the mother's heart had
quickened in response the voice was stilled for-
ever. The Lord had given; He hail also taken
away, and Mrs. Hapshott endeavored to -ay
"Blessed he the name of the Lord” with a good
grace, though at tunes the saying was hard.
"Hiram, 1 want to ask you a favor," ven-
tured Mrs. Hapshott to her husband.
"Ask away, lass. I’m m a good mood: we've
got a fair breeze, though I don't expect it will
last long. By this time tomorrow we'll prob-
ably be reaching away along the track we've
come. Take time bv the forelock, old woman,
and speak out."
"It’s Christmas Lay m two days time. Hi-
ram. Are you gmng to give the sailormen a
Christmas a proper Christmas?"
Hapshott opened his mouth and laughed, a
laugh that was pregnant with cynicism.
"Give them a Christmas a proper Christ-
mas! By which 1 suppose you mean a holiday
and Christmas fare'.’ Why, lass, they wouldn't
know what to do with it if they had it. They'd
bo coming along in an hour asking for a mb.
Besides, we aren't, fitted for Christmas meals.
There’s a brace of chickens in the coop that'll
make our dinner that day I’ve been saving
them up on purpose; but beyond the pig LC
ard-”
"Give them a proper Christmas, Hiram."
pleaded Mrs. Hapshott earnesth. "It's a won-
derful day ashore, though a sad one. That i-:,
for me," she amended. "T always get think-
ing of the Child and of how happy His mother
must have been, though she lost Him, too; she
lost Him.”
She thought the wound was fairly healed,
but the hot tears gushed to her faded, pa-
thetic eyes. Hapshott himself turned away,
for he knew the aehe at her heart; it com-
panioned the void at his own.
To hide his emotion, he threw gruffness into
his voice. “I’m thinking I made a mistake in
bringing you to sea, lass,” he said. "It isn’t
a place for women, least of all soft hearted
women such as you are. But you begged and
prayed and the owners seemed willing
"It got to be lonely waiting there ashore,
Hiram," she said simply. "It was at nights,
when—when the wind howled and the snow
fell everywhere—I saw other women happy
and companionable, with their men about
them; and it—it was more than I could stand.
It would have been easier if—if there’d—if
Amos had lived.” He understood, and his
rough gnarled hand crept out along the rail
until it rested on hers with the pressure of
sympathy.
‘Tm glad to lie here, Hiram,” she said.
"Don’t go for to think otherwise. But seeing
that I’m happy. I'd like to have those around
me happy, too. It isn't much to ask—just
give the sailors a bit of rest on Christmas
Day; let them have the pig for a Christmas
dinner; they’ll work all the better for it after-
“We’H get no more fresh meat for months,”
s%id Hiram Hapshott. “And you don’t take
to salt stuff very kindly, Maria.”
“You needn’t think of me,” she told him.
“It's a little thing for me to do—sacrifice one
r. for the sake of making twenty
windjammer, it's different, somehow. There's
always something to lx* done -
"Cor one da> tL can tie left undone,"
she said. "Ii i n’t "Men 1 ask you for a favor,
Hiram; but -someleav, with Christmas draw-
ing near, 1 fei I as i! 1 want to see it kept
as it should he kept, 'there's a something
wit inn me tolls me that this Christmas isn’t
going to he like others and yet—it can only
be different if 1 make it different. That’s why
i want you to do as 1 ask.”
"Well, we might stop work.” he said half
isly. "I daren’t look Jones in the face
migiTu
and tell him so, but if you like to tell him
yourself well, it goes. We'll cut out the fixin'
work, the painting and chipping and so on, you
kii'nv. They’ll have to trim sail as usual, so
i don't expect they'll gain much. We’ll have
cairns and variables on Christmas Day, if Cm
unv weather judge; and their arms’ll ache a
pretty deal by the time the day’s over.”
"Then it wouldn’t be anything of a holiday.
Let them have a proper one, Hiram. Don’t let
them do this fixin’ work, as you call it.” He
stared at her as at some curious animal which
the sea had disgorged under his astonished
nose
"Not--not work the braces!” he exclaimed.
"Why, lass, what'd happen to the ship? She'c^
be in irons and out of them a score of times;
we'd feel ourselves lucky if she didn’t turn
t urtle.”
"It won’t be so bad as that, Hi-ram. I’ve
heard you talk about what you do at sea when
there's anything special to be done when you
can’t even spare a hand to the wheel. Don t
you shorten sail or do something like that so
that the ship'll take care of herself?”
"Yes, we brail up and brace aback, if that’s
what you're driving at. But it's never done
except in cases of great emergency. And if
we were to do it here aboard, and if it ever got
nut, why, I'd be the laughing stock of the seven
seas. They’d never forget it—they’d invent
a nickname for me, and it’d stick forever. Ask
me something reasonable, Maria, and 1 might
see my way to doing it, but, to heave to down
here- why, it's ridiculous.”
"It isn't as ridiculous as robbing these poor
men of one day's rest in the year would be,”
she asseverated.
Hiram Hapshott walked aft to the wheel
and stood there at the con, his head sunk on
his breast, fingering his beard. As his wife
said, she had asked him but few. favors in
the course of their married life. What she
proposed now. while utterly without precedent,
was not entirely out of reason.
"D----- it!" he exploded so suddenly that
the helmsman shrank against the spokes and
trembled. "Why not? 1 don’t pretend to say
whose fault it is that she hasn’t a child—if
thereM been one she might have been more
reasonable, hut why shouldn’t I make her
py a bit? After all, it’s Christmas time,
i:;gii a Ilian sort of loses the hang of these
; 11g ■ a! sea. Why Hot do it ?”
Hie mate appeared on deck and the skipper
was unable to meet his eye. for lie knew that
he was softening. But Mrs. Hapshott was
no coward, and she boldly went toward Jones.
"Mr. Jones,” she said, "I’ve been talking it
over with ('apt. Hapshott, asking him to give
the men Christmas Day for a holiday. Would
you have any serious objections to his doing
ha;
1 is
Jones, perplexed, slid his cap over his eyes
and scratched the hack of his bullet head.
Then he looked to the skipper for a lead, but
found Hapshott sternly regarding the motion-
less compass card.
"A holiday!” he said. "What the what: do
they want a holiday for? Lazy scum! Hod-
days I like that, ma'am. Why Win -
Words failed him.
"A holiday would do them ;s lot of good;
besides, it’s Christmas Day, and it's shameful
that tiiey shouldn’t have a rest them." Mrs.
Hapshott was a woman who could assert tier-
self when necessary; and now she talked for
the good of Jones’ soul. He realized that it
was one thing to haze a crew of foreign sail-
ormen and another thing to beat down a de-
termined woman’s arguments.
“Well, ma’am,” he said lamely at the end, "I
shan’t interfere if they do lie off an hour or
two.’
Mrs. Hapshott had carried her point. She
knew that she had convinced her husband;
now that she had the mate on her side nothing
could prevent the carrying out of her scheme.
It was falling dark on Christmas Eve as
Mr Jones gave the orders to clew up and haul
down. The crew sprang to work swiftly, al-
beit they were unable to credit the evidence of
their senses. It was practically a dead calm;
the sea, apart from a few ripples, showed like
The stars were peeping out of the
* *
a floor. ---------
purpling blue overhei
burning clearly and
ranks; the sails lifted
They obeyed and stood expectantly, wonder-
ing what now freak would come. This, they
thought, was merely a piece of gratuitous
slave driving; in a moment or two they would
be ordered to cast everything adrift and set
every inch of sit1!. They had not the spirit to
grumble; long years of hardship had made
them mining automat oils, nothing more.
"Swing "the main yard",” pealed the mate
from the poop, where ho had been holding a
conlerenre with the captain.
The main yards swung uLmk, the topsails
flattened t;l the mast; the ship 1- si what little'
way she had and lay lightly bowing to the im-
perceptible swell. An at mo-phere of peace
seemed gradually to grow up about her; be-
yond the occasional light clank of a chain or
the rustle of a rope there was silence along
her docks.
"Muster aft here!” cried Hapshott.
The men slouched along to the afterdeck
and grouped themselves under the poop break.
The moon sprang up from the blackening sea
and shone redly upon them, a full round ball.
It showed sullen, despondent faces, faces with-
out a hope, it showed tattered garments,
loosely hanging arms terminating in half-
clinched fists as if the tarry fingers were still
grasping ropes. Mrs. Hapshott drew near to
the pinrail and looked down, her heart welled
full of pity. She had done something—she had
given these overworked beasts of burden one
day’s rest at least.
"It’s stand by till midnight tomorrow,” said
the skipper in a voice that he fondly hoped
betrayed no shame. "There’s a holiday from
now on. You’ll take your wheels and lookouts
as usual; beyond that -nothing. Understand?”
A faint whisper seemed to pass through the
ranks, as one might see the wind rustle along
a cornfield. One or two of the faces lit up
suddenly, sloughed off their assumed age, and
became young and comely once more. )t. was
Christmas Eve, and thoughts flew with light-
ning speed to long forgotten homes, where
Christmas had been a festival of delight in
those bygone days before the hungry sea
claimed them as its own.
"You’ve got to thank my wife for that,”
went on Hapshott. "She’s asked me to give
yftSu. a Christmas—a Christmas you'll have.
Make5’, the most of it. There’ll be a fresh mess
served for dinner tomorrow, and there’ll be
grog for all hands at eight bells. That’s all—
dismiss.”
The men broke up, walked forward slowly,
then, as if moved by a common impulse, they
came back, indeterminate still.
“Ve vish dor lady for to dank,” grunted a
German sailrnaker, fingering bis cap. "Hey,
boys, vat you says? Aind’t it right?”
"Yes, ja—-dot’s it, llans,” came the replies.
Mrs. Hapshott was aware of a strange com-
pression in her throat; her eyes smarted. A
stiffening of the crew was followed by some-
thing faintly resembling a cheer; then the men
went forward slouchingly, but their tongue's
were busy.
Throughout the night nothing was done;
the ship lay motionless on a gradually fresh-
ening sea. The wind blew now from the north,
now from the west; never twice in the same
direction; but hove to as she was the Uriah B.
Caster made no headway. Men walked soft-
footedly in the gloom, as if afraid to make the
slightest sound that would dispel the Christ-
mas peace; they talked in hushed voices, re-
membering their homes and scenes forgotten.
There were times when the wind freshened
a little and Mr. Jones had to haul himself
hack by sheer force from giving the neces-
sary orders. Three times during his watch
did he halt on tlie top of the ladder, his arm
full of belaying pins; as often he retraced his
steps and thoughtfully thrust the pins back
into their places.
The day broke glowingly, the sun leaped
out of the sea as if surprised at the spectacle
it discovered. The Uriah B. Caster floated
serenely in a welter of eddies, but no long
creamy wake stretched astern from her jolt-
ing rudder; peace enshrouded her as a tangible
thing.
The men seemed not to understand. They
hung about the forecastle doors as if expecting
every moment to bring a call to labor, but no
such call came. Presently they decided that
a miracle had happened. One or two of them
fetched tubs and commenced to wash their
clothes, lighting their pipes as they worked—
and they lit them covertly, as though expect-
ing the sky to crush them in their temerity.
Since there was none to say them nay, they
breakfasted together, and discovered men
among the opposite watches whom they hardly
knew. They discussed this strange happening
in undertones, but they rejoiced in their leis-
ure. The breakfast was something out of the
ordinary, too; toothsome, edible, it gave them
cause to think.
Still more did they wonder when, two hells
having sounded aft, Mrs. Hapshott appeared
among them, her arms piled high with gifts.
From the commencement of the voyage her
nimble hands had been busy with pins and
wool, and now there w'as something for them
all; warm caps fnat completely covered a man’s
head and held him immune from frostbite in
the most rigorous weather; mufflers, jerseys;
not one was forgotten. Even the greasy cook,
a man of foul speech and unclean habits, found
himself the possessor of a sleeved waistcoat
knitted out of the fleeciest wool.
‘‘Crickey!” he said with an oath. “It ’minds
me of the things my old mother used to knit
when I was a boy.” His face took on a soft-
ened expression.
“I hope you’ll have a merry Christmas,
tained savory joints from the porker killed
overnight. The men ale and were thankful,
but when a monster plum pudding appeared
they stared with awestruck eyes.
"Don’t thank me, thank the missus,” said
the rook, who brought the duff in person. “She
made it herself—-last night; mixed the whole
blame tiling with her own hands. Ain’t it a
wonder?”
It was a very giant among puddings, and
as toothsome as it was vast. Came, in the
midst of the revels, a call aft, where the stew-
ard stood at the capstan with a dipper in his
hand. Each man, presenting a pannikin, re-
ceived a tot of sterling grog, for (’apt. Hap-
shott had resolved to do the tiling well now
he was 1 mbarked upon it; no half water meas-
ures for him. Each man, receiving his allow-
ance. raised his drinking vessel in the direc-
tion of Mrs. Hapshott, who was watching them
from above, and drank a silent toast to her
and to the memory of Christmases past.
So tin' wonderful day passed away and once
again night drooped down upon the sea.
“We’ll have to make up for what we’ve
lost,” said the skipper over the supper table
that night. "We ought to have been a good
forty miles further smith than we are.” He
was beginning to repent his action, but the
serene content on his wife’s face more than
made up for this tumbling apart of accepted
ideas.
“But the men have holiday till midnight;
don’t forget that,” said Mrs. Hapshott. “They
have enjoyed their day—I know it, Hiram.
Cm glad 1 spoke—I’m glad I spoke.”
She went to bed, but sleep deserted her eye-
lids.
The craving for motherhood that the happi-
ness of the day had set aside returned to her
in double measure; the fierce mother hunger
of her heart would not be assuaged. Vainly
now- did she attempt to combat her yearnings,
vainly did she assure herself that God was
just and swift to repay a kindly action.
Her child was gone forever; there could
never be another child. Her life was an empty
useless thing —- no, not altogether useless.
Twenty men had been given a day’s happiness
through her intervention; that in itself was
something to remember with gratitude.
She heard eight bells struck overhead; she
heard the voice of the mate, newly come on
deck, bawling to the men to make sail and
trim the yards; she felt the ship gather her-
self together and leap through the growing
waves; she heard the strain and creak of the
deck planks, the vibrant senses of speed. But
still she could not sleep; her pain began to give
place to a growing suspense. She was on the
verge of some marvelous discovery—some-
where in the world outside there was some-
thing that meant more than life or death ta
her.
She rose, slipped on her clothing and went
swiftly out on deck.
"Hiram—what was that?" The skipper had
awakened and, missing her, had made for the
dock. The faint streaks in the sky showed
him a strange figure, clad in a gaudy sleeping
suit such as sailors love. Mrs. Hapshott
clutched at his arm and held tightly.
“What’s what?” He had been thinking
what a fool he would seem if the story were
ever told of the day now past, and his man-
ner was ungracious.
"That!” Her finger was outstretched and
quivering, but all beyond was still dark.
“A sea bird -jour nerves are on edge,” he
told her. ‘Acs. that’s what it is—a sea bird;
they cry out loud with the dawn. It’s their
way of welcoming it.”
Mrs. Hapshott drew herself to the taffrail
and leaned out, listening. The wind was fail-
ing again; the ship had almost lost her way;
she was only crawling through the water to
the accompaniment of flapping canvas aloft,
(’apt. Hapshott began to pace the deck, look-
ing to windward to see what promise the grow-
ing day would bring.
“Hiram, it wasn’t a sea bird!” The woman’s
voice was full of something to which her hus-
band could put no name.
“It must have been—what else could It he,
lass ?”
"To me it sounded like—but, no, that’s fool-
ishness. My mind is playing me tricks, hus-
band.”
But she did not leave the rail for fully twen-
ty minutes, and then it was to step down the
ladder and walk briskly along the deck until
she reached the forecastle. She could not
have explained to herself what impulse took
her there; it was something outside herself,
some strange power working detachedly, yet
compelling her to obey its behests.
She crouched up in the bows, watching the
sparkle of water spring gurgling from the fore-
foot watching the frothing bubbles stream
away on either side of the black bluff bow.
Always that same feeling of suspense, as if
she trembled on the verge of a great discovery,
held her enthralled.
Vainly she shook herself and assured her
own heart of its foolishness. Vainly she tried
to drag herself away from her self-appointed
post. The air was chill with the beginnings of
the dawn wind; she shivered repeatedly and re-
mained.
The ship woke to life about her; the men
flew aloft and busied themselves there; some
of them flung water over the dry planking
and scrubbed stoutly with brooms.
There seemed an extra amount of seat in
the way they worked, as if the leisure of the
day now gone had invigorated them, filled
them with a desire to work marvels.
yc
men,” said Mrs. Hapshott, and they cheered
her—they were gaining practice—until the idle
yards seemed to swing in answer. _ J
It was undoubtedly a lazy day; it ai
all the more lazy through the unfinished tasks
•yes whirjwer they looked.
‘ V Wte
forecastle kits that con-
c'Vvcitcm:' ” *
Hgjgllln; si
she stood, and her
erect,
Of
/
I1
/;
/
V i
Upcoming Pages
Here’s what’s next.
Search Inside
This issue can be searched. Note: Results may vary based on the legibility of text within the document.
Tools / Downloads
Get a copy of this page or view the extracted text.
Citing and Sharing
Basic information for referencing this web page. We also provide extended guidance on usage rights, references, copying or embedding.
Reference the current page of this Newspaper.
The Dublin Progress and Telephone (Dublin, Tex.), Vol. 29, No. 33, Ed. 1 Friday, December 8, 1916, newspaper, December 8, 1916; Dublin, Texas. (https://texashistory.unt.edu/ark:/67531/metapth559783/m1/4/: accessed June 12, 2024), University of North Texas Libraries, The Portal to Texas History, https://texashistory.unt.edu; crediting Dublin Public Library.