Adventure Magazine Cover — page 159: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

The Fenceless Meadows hurricanes and terrors of undreamed-of seas. ‘“‘There’s a woman on her deck,”’ cried some one; and women in warm robes has- tened to the rail to watch the clipper from around the Horn go by—a sailing clipper with a woman on her deck—the ‘ancy Nan, treading the narrow waters as a girl treads dewy meadows on a flowered morning. Discharging at Hamburg, she towed across to the Tyne for loading; and on a May morning, when the wild flowers were breaking to bloom under the hedges of England, stole away seaward again—to the meadows that are fenceless and free. Dowser, watching the light of St. Cather- ine’s fade astern, stood with his mate upon the bridge. “My last voyage, Shoofly. I’m getting old,” he said. Tattersall stared across the fields of the sea, lighted by the full moon; gleaming with spangles of silver. “Shoofly, you’d better quit the sea and come and live ashore. Buy a farm and run a string of cows,” said Dowser; and his mate, watching the main truck against a star, cried to the helmsman— “Watch your course.”’ Nance joined them; standing at her father’s side, watching the sea lights shine. He placed his arm about her shoulder. “It’ll be good to be home again, girl, eh?”’ he said; and she snuggled against him. The wind piped amongst the shrouds, clouds drifting over the moon. Moses, coming to the quarter-deck, leaned upon the railing, staring across the sea, the wind blowing his white beard. Nance, seeing him there, left the bridge to join him. Laying her head against his arm— ‘““Moses,” she asked, “how old are you now?” He looked at her face, with the moon shining on it. “Old enough to know better,” he said. “Oh! Moses,” she cried, ‘Show old are you?” He waved an arm, encircling the moonlit sea with the gesture. “Old enough to know better,” said he. ‘This ain’t no place for a woman.” The wind blowing his beard, he winced with the pains of rheumatism. ‘“‘See yonder! There’s a steamer coming up-channel,”’ he said. I5I Looking where he pointed, she saw the mast-head lights of a steamer twinkling above the sea, and went to the bridge to watch her pass; aflame with bright lights, her decks crowded with people; coming close to the sailing ship that curious folk might see her. They crowded her decks to watch the Fancy Nan go by; the moonlight on her sails, her gilded trucks and yard-arms shin- ing. ‘“T wonder where she’s going?”’ asked one. ‘Might be anywhere,” replied another. “Might be Sydney, Calcutta, or Hong- kong,’ a deck hand answered. ‘‘Might be Frisco, Rio Grande or Grand Canary.” Mr. Tattersall stared at the liner dis- dainfully, grunting. “Was you ever in steam?’’ asked one sailor of another. ‘“‘Once—never again,” replied the other. ‘**Tain’t nothin’ but swab an’ paint,” said a third. They sat under the lee of the forward deck-house as the steamer faded astern, talking of ships. ‘“‘A man what follows the sea is a —— fool,” said one. “Aye, that’s wot vou are, son,” said another. ‘You an’ me both.” ‘“They say the owner’s got a farm ashore,” said the first speaker. ‘‘Who wouldn’t sell a farm an’ go to sea?”’ another questioned. The iron bell clanged above the pipe of the wind and the wash of the sea. Gather- ing aft they answered to their names; the voice of the lookout man crying from the focs’le head, slowly, as an old sea chorus dying on the night, ‘*A-]-]-1-]-l-s well, sir.” 3 Ssexy HOLDING a leading wind for many days she ran down the trade latitudes, and beating into head winds off the Plate, came at length to misty weather as she neared the Horn. One morning, while making four or five knots, the weather hazy and the wind un- steady, a hand reported a boat on the lee bow. ‘The skipper and the mate searched the sea with glasses; Nance beside them, filled with excitement. The haze thickening, Dowser ordered the main yards aback; heaving her to to wait and watch awhile. He sent for the man who had reported the boat. COMmicbooolk S (C@