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THE HESPERIAN
"Rain, colder," answered the prophet, with an air of
importance.
"Well whnt d'ye do thnt for?" wns the rejoinder.
This novel question pleased the prophet, as it allowed him
to draw the inference that his friend considered him capable
not only of prophesying, hut also of controlling, to a certain
extent, the meteorological conditions. Such an inference was
pleasant but modesty, of course, required him to dispel his
friend's delusion with regard to the control of the wcathei.
lie had barely begun to speak on that line, when someone
across the street called to him and, pointing to the flags,
cried, What is it?"
"Rain, colder," replied the prophet.
"Well, what do you do that for?" came back the query, as
a transformed echo.
When the prophet made a mental calculation of the num
ber of times that he must answer that query, its novelty entirely
disappeared, lie began to look around for some means of
escape just as a third friend came up, "What's the indica
tions?" "Rain, colder," came the reply in subdued tones.
Again the query, "Well, what d'ye do that for?"
As the fourth, fifth, and sixth friends came up with the same
question, and the same rejoinder, the prophet began to wish
for the isolation of his old lighthouse. There he could close
his eyes to the dreadful sameness of a calm ocean; there, he
could close his cars to the tiresome creak of the machinery in
the tower; and there, when a rain was approaching, neither
the machinery, nor the tower nor the ocean could ask him,
"WeH, what d'ye do that for?" Yes, he wished himself back
in his old tower, for isolation was preferable to answering the
same question so many times.
He saw the clouds gather that evening in accordance with
the signal. The next morning the wind blew and the rain
fell and that night was Friday night.
"What will they say about this?" mused the prophet as he
started out for breakfast. Seeing a friend coming towards
him, he quietly crossed to the other side of the street and
admired the houses on that side until his friend had disap
peared. Not thinking it advisable to go to the hotel for break
fast, he dropped into a chop house and took a stool in the
back corner, where as few as possible might sec him. I Ie was
just congratulating himself on his safety, when some one
took the next stool, and looking at him, said, "Hello, you the
weatherman?" The poor prophet was about to deny his
identity, but his conscience made him answer in the affirma
tive. "Well, why don't you have better weather?" asked the
stranger. "So this is the question that I must answer six hun
dred and fifty limes today," mused the prophet as he left the
house, and he began to wonder if life were worth living. Hut
fortunately the wonderful adaptability of human nature to cir
cumstances came to his rescue and taught him to answer ques
tions mechanically.
He received indications of an extremely warm spell. "Now
everyone will ask, why do you have it so warm?" reasoned
the weather man, and he prepared himself to answer that
question. Fully prepared with a mechanical answer, he
walked down the street trying to look cool in a spring suit and
a straw hat, with a handkerchief around his neck, tucked in
over his collar. The first person he met smiled and asked,
"Hot enough for you?" This question both surprised and
chagrined him. "Hot enough for you?" Did people no
longer realize that he was a weather prophet? Must he
answer th't question six hundred and fifty times per day,
n the capacity of an ordinary man?
This was more than human nature could stand. His health
broke down, he declined rapidly. Every time he heard that
question an expression of sorrowful inquiry would spread itself
over his countenance. The doctors gave him up. Just before
the end came, he was sleeping quietly and his expression was
one of peaceful rest, but us the transmigration took place, his
face assumed that same expression of sorrowful inquiry, as if,
on the other shore, the first question he encountered was, "Is
it hot enough for you?" morc.an m. MAt'.UKK.
"A T.otf From tho T.ojj Ilook.'
1IY J AS. A. I.UNN.
On the 17th of October, 1887, the sailing ship, "Minnie
Swift" was towed out of Tort Glasgow, bound for Quebec.
She carried a crew of twenty-two all told, I myself being one
of the number, and acting boatswain. We had the wind from
the northwest and it struck us on the starboard quarter. At
Cape Fairhead we set our sails, braced the yards to the wind,
coiled down the ropes, lashed the water casks, swept the decks,
spliced the main brace, and went below. About 5 p. m.
the chief mate ordered all hands to appear on the quarter deck
for the purpose of selecting watches. The crew mustered aft
and were divided into watches, starboard and port. I had the
good fortune to be in the port watch with the chief mate as
my superior officer. As boatswain it was my duty to assign
the work to the men, keep the ship in trim and sec that every
thing was kept in order.
After we had been out to sea about ten hours the wind
died out and the sea fell to a dead calm. During the next
two days wc made only three miles headway. Although this
delay was unwelcome it gave us ample time to put the ship in
good shape for any kind of weather that might come. The
r'KK'K was tightened up, the chafing gear put in place, and
the masts greased. Our watch had been on deck from 8 to 12
p. m. and the weather was very fine. At 12 111. wc went below,
being relieved by the star board watch, who took the next four
hours on deck. I went to my berth, turned in, and slept very
soundly. I dreamt that we were in a terrible storm. I thought
I could hear the wind blowing and the rain pattering on the
decks. 1 saw the ship straining herself with the wind right in
her teeth.
Suddenly I awoke, and found myself on the lee side of my
bunk. I heard the captain's voice above the howling wind,
"All hands on deck!" Then I heard the second mate's "Ay
ay sir." I realized in an instant the situation wc were in. We
had been struck by a dangerous northeasters, with all the sail
set. I jumped on deck to find the ship plunging into the sea
with all the lower sails braced sharp up on the port tack, so
that wc could steer close to the wind. Wc all worked hard
and it was not long before we had the top-gallant and royal
sails stowed away. As the gale was increasing the captain or
dered the double reef to be put in the topsails and to take in
all the head-sails except the jib. This being done in about
two hours, the time arrived for our watch to stay on deck
again. After getting under snug sail once more, wc had a
chance to look around us. I went on the poop to make inqui
ries about our bearings. The mate said that wc would have to
tack in about half an hour, as the land was on both sides,
Scotland to starboard, Ireland to port. The wind commenced
to blow still harder; the sky was pitch dark, and the seas
began to rise higher and higher. The captain walked the
deck very uneasily, always looking to leeward. Suddenly a
light flashed right ahead, and the order came, "Tack ship!"
This manoeuvre in a heavy sea is the finest piece of seaman
ship that is known. First, the helmsman puts the wheel hard
down, and just as the ship's head is within two points ot the
wind the captain yells out, "Hard a lee!" Then the men at
the jib sheets let go and the sails flap in the wind forcing jthe
ships head around. When the ship is head to wind the skip-
o
