May 13, 1899.1 
FOREST AND STREAM. 
S63 
boat to reach Sanford. The evening dragged wearily, but 
al last a noise on deck roused me from my lethargy, and 
I hastened out. Wc were evidently on a lake, and not 
far away the lights from a town cast their reflections out 
over the water. This was Sanford^ I was told, and so 
securing my baggage I waited for the boat to make her 
dock. I took one last look at the old boat which had 
brought me thus far in safety, and then clambered into a 
rickety old barge that finally landed me at the hotel 
where I was to pass the night. Here I tumbled into bed 
to wait for the morning, and to dream of lakes alive with 
alligators, herons, ducks, and birds of huge and wonder- 
ful forms, and of forests teeming with deer, panthers, 
wildcats, turkeys and creatures that only dreams can 
create. A. K Stearns. 
A True Sea Story. 
In .1867 I was drifting about Callao, having left an 
American ship there after putting in nine months of as 
pleasant sea life as I ever experienced. I soon grew 
tired of my surroundings. Callao was an old stamping 
ground of mine, and I knew the ins and outs of every- 
thing. 
Money was also getting low, and that convinced me, if 
nothing else would, that I ought to ship. 1 looked about 
for a day or two, and finally selected the English bark 
Meggie, Captain A , bound to Dundirk, with guano. 
The Meggie was an old-fashioned bark of 450 tons, 
CM. A good sea boat and quite fast. Her crew were a 
mixed set, composed of English, Irish, Scotch and Welsh. 
I being the only American aboard. The Captain was a 
hard-headed old Scotchman, very fond of his grog, and 
not much regard for discipline. The mate, Mr. Jones, 
was a Welshman, 1 good seaman, and a gentleman, but 
with an ungovernable appetite for strong drink. 
The second mate, or boatswain, was what sailors call 
"Liverpool Irish," a good seaman enough, but no officer. 
Old Sails, a French-Canadian, and Chips, a Scotcliman^ 
with two apprentices, formed the after-guard. 
The crew forward were eight men, rated as follows, 
four able seamen, . two ordinary seamen and two boys. 
To any one used to American ships this will appear a 
large crew, but it must be remembered that English 
ships carry one-third to one-half as many more men than 
the same class of American vessels. We got away on 
Feb. 14, and with a fine leading wind went to sea. Every 
one who has ever made a voyage at sea knows that the 
first few days are full of trouble. The men are all new 
to each other, and the ship is new to them. Then the 
deck is littered with the various odds and ends that must 
all be stowed away, or secured in their proper places. 
Battens and chafing gear had to be overhauled and put 
on. Anchors must be lashed on the bows, chains unbent 
and stowed below. Generally it takes a week or ten 
days to get settled and have everything going "ship shape 
and Bristol fashion," as sailors say. 
On the Meggie it was much the same as other ves- 
sels of greater or less importance. In the course of a week 
we had got quite settled and were feehng at home. The 
officers were apparently all that could be desired, the food 
was very good and plentiful; the bark was easy to 
handle, steered like a pilot boat and sailed like a witch. 
What more could we ask? One would think we were as 
well situated as we possibly could be. A good ship, good 
officers, good crew, enough to eat, and watch and watch. 
But we were soon to find out that our good fortune was 
short lived. On the second week out the Captain came 
on deck the worse for liquor. The same afternoon the Mate 
showed that he too had been splicing tfie main brace too 
often. We all looked blue at this, no sailor but what 
dreads drunkenness at sea, and very few but what have 
seen serious effects from that cause. 
Very soon it was noticed that when the Captain and 
Mate had both been drinking, they would play at cross 
purposes, one would give an order only to have it coun- 
termanded by the other. In fact, they seemed to lose 
sight of the welfare of the ship in the desire to irritate 
and provoke one another. 
This, to us, was for a while amusing, but we soon 
found that it might bring us into circumstances which 
would be, to say the least, disagreeable. 
One morning, when we had been out some three weeks, 
it came on to blow, and at 8 A. M. Mr. Jones com- 
menced to shorten sail. The fore and main royals were 
quickly stowed, and we stood along quite comfortably 
with the wind a little abaft the beam. 
At 9 :30 the wind had increased so much that Mr. Jones 
thought it advisable to take in flyingjib and foretopgal- 
lantsail. The orders were given, but before a sheet could 
be started, the Captain sprang on deck with a roar, "Mr. 
Jones, what in h — 1 are you doing, sir. Don't you know 
we are homeward bound, and we want all the wind we 
can get." 
"Aye, aye, sir," said Mr. Jones, "but I thought it was 
blowing a little too strong for that flyingjib." 
"Well, sir," says Captain A—, "the Meggie can carry 
all she's got with twice this wind," and with a curse he 
staggered below. Mr. Jones soon stepped into his room, 
and when he returned on deck we noticed that his eye had 
an ominous glitter. "By G — ," saj-s he, "the old man 
may run the ship under before I offer to take a stitch of¥ 
her.'' This was not very cheering to us, but we could do 
nothing. 
About II A. M. the wind had increased to a gale. 
Captain A — -, drunk as he was, saw that we must 
shorten sail: The orders were given to take in fore- 
topgallantsail, down flyingjib and double reef the fpre- 
topsaii. The flyiiigjib and topgallantsail' were stowed virith, 
some- trouble; but when we came to haul out reef tackles; 
on the foretopsail, it was no go. The Captain would not 
lufif the ship to the wind, and we could not get an inch 
on the reef tackles. Finally, I got all hands on the 
weather reef tackle, and tore the leech out the sail. 
"Lay up there and send down that topsail," roared 
Captain ^A-:^. "A-ye, aye, sir," and away we scrambled 
aloft. ^ , - ' . " ' 
The topsail w^as soon furled and sent on deck, and a 
new one was got from the sailroom. By the time that 
we were ready to bend it the gale had increased to such 
an extent that it was really frightful to look aloft, much 
more so to go there. But sailors, as a rule, only know 
how to obey, and away we scrambled again at the order. 
Old Sails and myself on the weather yardarm. As I 
swung myself outside -the lift to hau\ out the ear-ring, I 
glanced back at the maintopgallautsail ; the sail stood out 
almost round as a ball, and hard as iron, while the stout 
spruce stick bent like a whip, and every moment seemed 
to be coming over on our heads. We finally secured the 
topsail, furled it and were right glad to once more get 
down on deck. 
In a few moments it was "Clew up the main to-gallant 
sail," and after the hardest struggle that I ever remember 
with fluttering canvas the sail was clewed up and furled; 
that is, it was tied up somehow. 
At seven bells we went to dinner. We had just gath- 
ered round our pea soup and hardtack, when there was a 
report like a cannon, followed by the flapping of torn 
canvas. Running on deck, we found the jib had split and 
was fast whipping away to leeward. As we stood looking 
at the fluttering rags, Bang! came another report. Turn- 
ing, we saw the maintopsail sheets had parted, leaving 
about a fathom of chain on each clew. Flap! flap! bang! 
bang! crash! and the huge maintopsail thrashed the mast 
and rigging with its chain whips. 
Capt. A. staggered on deck, and after a look aloft or- 
dered the men to furl the maintopsail. Not a man would 
rnove. It was death to attempt going up the main rig- 
ging, and we all knew it. 
After cursing the men the Captain reeled below for 
another dram, and we saw no more of him for a while. 
The maintopsail was new and of the best Russia duck, 
and it stood a terrible beating before the fur began to 
fly: but when once the foot of the sail gave way it went 
very fast. 
The afternoon wore slowly away. We were all hud- 
dled on the quarter, watching the tufts of canvas flying 
away to leeward, and cursing the luck that led us to 
ship with a drunken skipper. At 4 P. M. I took the 
weather helm, with an ordinary seaman at the lee wheel. 
The bark was now running before the wind under a 
whole foresail and fore stormstaysail. This, with the 
remnant of the maintopsail left, barely sufhced to keep 
her clear of the following seas, which were racing after 
us at a fearful rate. 
As I looked astern and saw the angry waves follow- 
ing us like hungry wolves after their prey, I could not 
help thinking the time was near when we could no longer 
keep clear of them. Their speed was increasing every 
moment, while we were going slower. 
There is no danger in running before a gale as long as 
the ship can carry sail enough to keep out of the way of 
the following seas; but woe to the unlucky craft whom 
the sea overtakes. Many a good ship has been pooped 
by a sea and gone down with all on board. 
I had just told the ordinary at the lee wheel, "Bargie, 
when you feel her stern lift, hold on for your life," when 
the sea I had been expecting came. Surging high over 
our tafifrail, roaring and tumbling like a young Niagara, it 
fell upon our decks. For a few moments it seemed as 
if the ship must go down; but while we were nearly 
smothered by the mass of water on our deck, it proved 
our salvation. The ship was pressed down and her way 
checked. The extra strain split the foresail, easing the 
ship's head and letting her come to the wind. There was 
no time for thought, but with the instinct of preservation 
we did the only thing that could have saved us. In the 
momentary lull while the ship was wallowing with the 
mountain of water on her decks, we sprang for the miz- 
zenstaysail; a sharp knife clears the gasket, a dozen hands 
haul aft the sheet, and as the water rolls oflf our deck 
the little bark tosses her head to windward, and we feel 
that we are safe, for a time, at least. 
But I shall never forget that night. None of us could 
sleep, or cared to try. The Captain below in a drunken 
stupor, the Mate as bad, and the vessel in a position 
where human skill could do no more. We sat or stood 
around in silence. Some tried to raise life enough for 
conversation, but failed miserably. Some tried to make 
coffee, but failed in that as well. 'Twas a long, weary 
night, but all things have an end, and so, morning came 
at last. The sun rose on a crippled vessel and a demoral- 
ized crew. When daylight came we were able to estimate 
the damage. The foresail, jib and maintopsail in rags. 
The starboard bulwarks between fore and main rigging 
gone, long boat stove, galley swept away, and all on ac- 
count of a drunken skipper. 
'As the sun arose the wind went down, and by 12 M. 
we were once more under way and busy repairing dam- 
ages. I have spent many years at sea and seen many 
severe storms, but was never so completely and thor- 
oughly frightened as I was that night on the Meggie. 
S. D. Kendall. 
Tarpon Springs, Fla. 
Our Chinaman Cook* 
The first week in September was a memorable one to 
a party of tourists who had just completed a most enjoy- 
able camping tour of the Yellowstone National Park. 
This company, composed of a dozen or more of both 
young and old, had all the necessary equipment and pro- 
visions for the full comfort and enjoyment of this week 
in Nature's Wonderland, even to a good-natured China- 
man cook, who was familiarly known as Sport. 
Sport's efficiency as a cook and his jolly amiability soon 
won for him the good will of the entire camp, especially 
of the younger members, who were much interested in his 
linguistic ability, and often he could be seen , as the center 
of a group of these youngsters earnestly , trying to pro- 
nounce words they were trying to teach him. 
Besides his being the camp cook, the duty of guarding 
the camp provisions fell upon Sport. -He took great- 
pride in this ofhce, and often showed the: visitors his tent, 
where the provisions were neatly and carefully stored and 
guarded with jealous eye. • 
The necessary camp attachmen|s^..ihe- huge, log fire 
and camp stories were enjoyed ev^ert^iS^fening before re- 
tiring.. One evening our guide, p,«S|y:ei|i'jto some broken 
boxes and barrels, in which provislCjii^'.Jbiad been stored, 
and some hungry bear had succeeded iij getting them, 
and told of the night raids often made by bears. To allay 
any immediate fears which might be entertained by his 
hearers, he assured the company that bears would not 
enter a tent or molest human being; but if not them- 
selves molested they only tried to steal meat and other 
provisions. The woliien listened with ears Arid eyes wide 
open to this tllustfated story and cast perturbed glances 
at the tent in which tlieir loved ones were fast asleep. As 
most of the company were tired after the day's tramping, 
they went early to their tents, the mothers carefully lock- 
ing or tying the tent flaps for the night. The reader can 
imagine how much, after hearing these stories, these lov- 
ing mothers slept that night, with only a tent-wall be- 
tween them and the wilds of beardom. As a natural 
consequence, now and then could be heard, mingling with 
the rumbling of the geysers, a tender, frightened voice: 
"Listen! Something trying to get in. Get up and scare 
it away." But this tremulous voice would be answered 
only by a groan and a snore from the husband. Then 
the supposed disturbance ceased and all was quiet for a 
short period. 
Sport had retired to his tent earlier than usual and was 
entirely forgotten until the quiet morning air was stirred 
by the Celestial's cry of distress. A keen-scented and 
hungry bear had successfully located a sack of meat care- 
fully sored away in the Chinaman's tent and was attempt- 
ing to get it. Not finding an opening in the tent the bear 
soon made one to his own convenience by ripping a long 
slit in one side with his sharp claws. The opening made 
at the proper place, a large paw was inserted and grabbed 
the sack of meat. The noise of the ripping tent partly 
aroused the sleeping Chinaman, and when he saw the 
sack of meat disappearing through the opening he im- 
mediately grasped the situation, and with the howl of a 
Comanche Indian also grasped the' other end of the sack. 
Then occurred a most thrilling and unique contest or 
tug-of-war of bear vs. Chinaman. The sack gave way 
and the contest was of short duration. The bear was 
evidently as badly scared as his yellow adversary, and 
compromised on half, taking only one ham and hurriedly 
disappearing. 
When the aroused campers reached the scene of the 
catastrophe nothing could be seen but a much bewildered 
Chinaman holding a torn sack and dejectedly viewing the 
remains of the conflict, and gesticulating wildly in the 
direction of his retreating adversary. 
The soldiers on guard in the Park reported next day 
that the cries of distress had been heard in their camp, 
half a mile distant. Sport's familiar twang was known to 
them, and asked him why he holloed so loud. "Me 
no wan tee him takee mleat," he said. And when asked 
if he was scared, "No, no, me no scarce; me scarce him," 
was the reply. 
It was with the pride of a conquering gladiator that 
next morning Sport showed the evidence of his night's 
adventure. Not one member of the company missed 
hearing the exciting story, illustrated by the torn tent and 
the Chinese dialect, and succeeding visitors were equallj' 
sure to hear the tale from our efficient cook and faithful 
defender of the camp larder. A. H. Ambrose. 
Illinois. 
''Pleasure in the Pathless Woods/' 
In every issue of the Forest and Stream we read ac- 
counts of many outings, and these are enjoyed by even, 
the stay-at-homes and the couldn't-get-offs. Those who 
were doomed to remain behind are carried by these 
graphic accounts back to piny woods and sedgy lakes and 
trackless .swamps; and the many happy hours spent there 
in pure and healthful sports. Visions of the big bag of mal- 
lards, or the stately stag that fell before oneis itrue aim, or 
the long string of beauties that tried his haiti'boo, pass 
in kaleidoscopic review before the mind's eye' of the man 
who has ever "been there." LTnfortunately for them- 
selves, there are a great many who can find no pleasure 
in these outings, and can't see what others can find in 
them. Time was, but is no more, when the man who had 
been out a day with his dog and gun or rod and bait 
bucket generaly tried to sneak in the back way, as if 
he had been guilty of some disreputable act. To-day some 
of our best men love the sport, and the number is in- 
creasing fast. The pulpit, the halls of Congress, the 
White House, all have their advocates, who will unblush- 
ingly tell yo.u how much they love the sport of rod and 
gun and rambles over marsh and meadow, in the swamp 
or through the virgin forest in quest of fur, fin, and 
feather. 
The true sportsman does not measure his sport by the 
weight of his bag; he can find pleasure in pursuit as well 
as in possession. _ A jaunt in the fields in the early fall, 
when the air is crisp and so refreshing after the long and 
depressing heat of summer, making the blood course 
through the veins as though the elixir of life had been 
injected into them — how you enjoy it! How you enjoy 
watching your registered pointer or setter coursing over 
the ground. Suddenly he becomes as rigid as if carved 
of stone; you work up to him, and look with all your 
eyes, but you can't locate Bob White and his family, so 
cleverly are they hidden in the brown stubble. You walk 
into them, and with a great whirr they rise; you let go 
with both barrels and see a right and left go down, and 
your dog soon has them retrieved. 
Or you rise at early morn, take your minnow bucket 
and fly-book, and are off to some cool and shady stream, 
where you know the wary trout lies. You tempt his ap- 
petite with a fine steelback; but perhaps he doesn't seem 
to want that. Tlien you try to lure him from his haunt 
with some gaudy fly, and at last you succeed. Like an 
arrow he flies to the alluring bait. Lie discovers his 
mistake, but, alas, too late. He makes the reel sing and 
bends the rod like a coach whip in his efforts to get away; 
but in the end good tackle and science land him. 
These are healthful and restful sports. You come home 
with a better and healthier appetite than a dozen bottles 
of Hood's Sarsaparilla can give, and you don't need any 
of the pepsins to aid digestion, nor opiates to lull you to 
sleep. 
The pleasures of camp life are many. You have the 
genial companionship, the pure air, the refreshing sleep, 
and rest for the entire system. These are Nature's own 
tonic for the world-worn. There is pleasure in the 
music of the baying hounds, starting the deer from his 
leafy couch; there is inspiration in the voicing of the pack 
hot on the trail. There is life in the honk of the wild 
goose, the quack of the mallard, the put-put of the wary 
turkey, the bark of the squirrel, the flash of the bass as it 
leaps from the waters in pursuit of its prey, and the 
glint of the sun on its glistening scales; in the splash of 
