Evening Republican, Volume 18, Number 66, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 18 March 1914 — Page 3

HE wireless spark that cries to the |fl shore for help when night and terror settle down on the doomed steamship, and the wild momentr of thanksgiving as the message of deliverance drums in the weary operator’s ear, has furnished many a thrill, but the cry from shore, searching the sea and finding the white speck on its bosom that means hope and life, is rare, and to put it mildly, reversing the order of things. Of course, in story books the hero often finds himself cast away and is put to no great shift to rig a wireless whose uncouth putterings turn the great Bteamship from her path and bring the right girl in the bargain. this is a story of Swan Island. Despite the name you would not card to live on Swan island. There are no swans, nor are there any dainty ox-eyed Junos or peroxide Junos to marry the castaway earl. Swan island lies in the tropics, some hundred miles off Honduras —if you insist on getting out your atlas —and by common report is the most forsaken thing in the Caribbean sea, which is saying much. It would be hard to imagine a more dreary place or one less suited for the local color to a story with a thrill. A few huts scattered over the swampy^ground, some palms, some cocoanut trees, and the tally is complete, all but the wireless station. : r Commerce must bo served, and the United Fruit company has erected on Swan island a lit-. tie station that keeps in touch with steamships passing 500 miles out to sea. The station also relays messages from Port Limon, Costa Rica (see your map again), over to Jamaica. Nothing else remains in the summing up of §jwan island but scorpions, trantulas and a multitude of carnivorous insects whose execution would drive the New Jersey product to envious suicide. Thither at the close of a sweltering day in autumn came a new wireless operator and a visitor. Necessity brought the operator, curiosity brought the visitor. The same steamship deposited both on the white beach, to call a month later with another operator. Keenan, the wireless man, was in luck, for after a month alone on Swan island —that is, alone so far as white companions are concerned except for a single “beach comber,’’ which is deemed sufficient by the company’—men show the beginnings of a line of self-addressed conversation which would not entitle them any too firmly to the major premise, “Man is a rational animal.” Curiosity and scorpions brought the visitor, one Warren Carew, who hailed from New York and should have known better. Carew had money and troops of friends, picked up in odd parts of the globe, but he preferred to list scorpions. He was a naturalist, he told the wireless man, and Keenan, accustomed to strange men and strange places, shrugged his shoulders and was glad for the companionship the naturalist brought. At daylight, before the heat of the sun made life a burden, Carew collected his ugly specimens, and later he talked with Keenan, who furnished gossip of the world snatched from the passing craft. Two weeks passed in desultory fashion, with morning searches and afternoons looking over the hot blue sea before and the lagoon behind, that lay like a spot of tarnished silver showing through the Bcrawny palms. Carew was careless and one morning it happened. The lobster-like claws of the scorpion nipped and Carew went oft balance. The nip was not dangerous, but the sprawl threw him into line for the stinging tail of the holder of venom that meant death —-death unless heroic measures were adopted. Whatever else Carew was hqfwas not a coward. The report of Keenan and all information that can be gathered shows he acted with Spartan courage but again he was careless. The small spot in the calf of the leg where the poison entered was bared by iiim and a common jackknife brought into play. Quickly Carew cut at the place, and slashed until there was a free flow from a wound three Inches long. He bound up the leg with strips of clothing and hobbled back to his hut. Keenan saw him and hurried to his assistance. Carew was shade comfortable in a bunk, and sweltered cheerfully through the afternoon, believing ho bad saved himself. Copious doses of brandy muddled his senses and Keenen returned to his post There were no signs of the swift death that follows the sting of the scorpion.

SURGICAL OPERATION WIRELESS

Two days passed and on the evening of the third Keenan noticed the mat curtains drawn in Carew’s hut. A group of natives gesticulated before the door, but none would enter. The wireless operator pushed aside the drawn matting, wondering why Carew should have closed himself in when the slightest breath of sultry air was a blessed relief. Carew sat in a corner of the hut laughing. He had lighted the lamp, which to the almost unbearable heat of the hut. The wireless mdn gasped out: “What’s the matter? Don’t you want any air? You’ll suffocate.” He started to draw aside the curtains, when the naturalist stopped him. "Don’t.'' he_said. "It’s cold. My leg will catch cold.” “ " , Swiftly Keenan had him by the shoulders, and there in the stifling room examined the wounded leg; It took but a glance to not the swelling and the coming of the first mortification around the wound. Gangrene would set in, if it had not come already. The end was certain death. More brandy and water thrown on him despite protest, brought from the naturalist the story of the cutting. He had used an unclean blade, and _ this was the result. Both men returned to the wireless station, Keenan helping the now frightened hunter of scorpions. A grim silence settled over them, and while Carew sat dumbly awaiting the outcome Keenan thought hard. It was nearly midnight when the idea came. Away out at sea, hundreds of miles, were vessels passing. If he could only summon one and persuade the captain to turn in to save a life. “I’ll wireless a doctor, old man!” Keenan shouted, joyfully clapping the Inert Carew on the shoulder. The naturalist was too amazed for the time being to grasp the idea, but after he caught the spirit his anxiety was pitiful. “But the steamship would not turn so far,” he ~ wailed. Then he cried out: “Promise them anything. I can pay.” His dynamos running smoothly, Keenan fingered the key and the blue sparks crackled. He repeated at intervals and waited. There was no answering click in the receivers. Through the night the crackling kept up while the awakened natives and the comber hurried to the station to watch the blue spark that snarled out into the tropical night. Toward morning Port Limon answered, but here was no help. At daylight the swelling had in* creased, and with the approach of what he believed the end the New York man became calm. “I am sorry, friend,” he said, “but I'think it’s pretty near over. We are too far, from help, and, besides, it is all impossible. No ship would turn. I promise not to break down again. _lf I do become crazy and there is no hope, I depend on you to —” and he nodded significantly toward his revolver. Keenan did not answer. Somewhere out on the Caribbean he knew the Santa Marta was ploughing along, so he plied the wireless unceasingly. The answer came about nine o'clock In the morning from the Santa Marta, which reported her position exactly 420 miles to the southeast. Rapid exchanges brought a refusal to turn to Swan island. The ship's surgeon. Dr. W. S. Irwin, standing beside the wireless, said it would be useless. And the message was sent to Keenan, who dared not look at the doomed young man. That seemed to to be the end for a moment. Then there came a new sputtering in the receiver. “The doctor says to perform the operation your- ——: ' — 7— '' -—— __ “How car I?” the spark from Swan island questioned the Santa Marta at Bea. Back enme the instructions. “Get him ready,” said the wireless. “You have Warren's medical book there and you can go on the pages I mention. Describe the symptoms.” Kgenan told the condition of the wound and the circumstances, but be insisted on his fears when it came time to amputate. “No amputation necessary,” came back the message. “A lot of cutting according to direction and your mas is saved."

THE EVENING REPUBLICAN, RENSSELAER, IND.

Keenan howled this message to the trembling man and made ready for further directions. “Take a tourniquet,” said the wireless. It was hard to believe that out of sight beyond tile horizon a trained mind at another instrument was directing through space the way to save a human life. With the aid of the beach comber the tourniquet was applied and a knife —Carew's own, which had caused the trouble—plunged in boiling water to make it clean. More brandy was served to him by the wireless man and everything was ready for the operation. A native boy who acted as Herman’s helper ran after articles as directed. By turning to the page he had been directed Keenan found a chart of the leg. “Ready,” he flashed to Dr. Irwin. The first direction came, he repeated it back and it was verified, so there could be no mistake. Each part of the lancing was gone over carefully under repeated Meantime the Santa Marta continued to plunge along on the blue Caribbean. —And when the cutting was over there came the query from the ship to shore: “Have you any tar?” t Keenan had, and the instruction came to boil it and pour it on the now clean wound. It was rough surgery, but the best thing under the circumstances. Carew fainted under it and was revived. "Tell him he’s safe now,” came the wireless. The tourniquet was removed and the numbed leg, still horribly painful under the searing tar, was bandaged. “Got plenty of brandy?" asked the spark. “About the only thing we have," Keenan pounded back. “Let him have enough to forget his troubles," ordered the surgeon, and the message was sent. Now by rights all should have been over with the saving of Carew. But there remained the one touch that will be a long time finding its duplicate. The following day the young naturalist appeared dragging himself along with a cane in defiance of orders. He stopped by the wireless man who had taken his instrument out under the trees. “Forget it,” he said when the other began to remonstrate. “I' feel great. It's wonderful to know you’re going to live after all. > I want to thank that doctor.” So Keenan raised the Santa Marta again and the surgeon was called to the wireless room. “Tell him I can’t operate the key so it means anything,” said Carew, “but if he will sit down at the instrument I'll make some dots with the thing and that will serve for the present. You know our hands will really touch when his has one key and I the other and the air between.” And so it happened that through the air over the blue Caribbean ihere passed sundry dots that meant nothing and everything.

THE SURPRISE.

“Well, what’s the verdict, doctor?” “You are worn out. The best thing for you to do is fix up your business affairs and take a month’s vacation.” , “Why, confound it. doctor, I just got back!” — Cleveland Plain Dealer.

HE SOLVED IT.

“Talking about the servant problem, I know one man who got a woman to do his cooking, washing, ironing, housework, mending and cleaning. just for her board.” )“Where did he get a prize servant like that?” “She’s his wife.” ;

ITS ADVANTAGES.

"There is one good thing about the stock of that irrigating enterprise.” : “What is it?” “They ought to be able to water It axten ■ively.”

JOSEPHINE FOR THE FAIR

THE WOMAN WHO UNDERSTOOD OPERA | There was once a Woman who Thoroughly Understood and appreci- '% ated Grand Opera. She was Accustomed to Purchase a Libretto Week*; 'I Ahead, and she Played the Score through on her Piano Before she Went to a Performance. So sLe always Knew What they were Singing and 7"* When it was Over. She had a Cousin who did Not Know an Oboe from a Snare-drum, nor a Tenor, from a Basso. , Nevertheless she Enjoyed the Opera. One day they were Presented to a Great Tenor. The Woman who Understood Opera spoke to him as Follows: “Do you not Think the Overture to ‘Tannhauser’ is a Beautiful Thing? I Adore Wagner. Don’t you? But I Thought that the Brasaeo

ONE*DAY THEY WERE PRESENTED TO A GREAT TENOR. * « i were a little Flat and that the Eighth Bar of Your Aria in the First Scene was a Little Hurried. Am I Right?” “Very Probably,” replied the Great Tenor. “And does your Cousin* j too, Like the Opera?” “Very much,” said the Cousin. “Especially since I have learned tv Distinguish between the Kinds.” “And How do you Do that?” inquired the Great Tenor, with Interest | “Oh, there are Many Points of Difference,” she. replied. “In thw | First Place, the Women wear Flowing Robes in German Opera, but Corsets and Trains in Other Kinds. Then you Yourself wear High Boot* : and a Long Mantle in Italian, but Low Shoes and a Short Mantle in German.” . ;, • “What you Say is True,” remarked the Great Tenor, “and Mot* than That, it is Interesting. If I had Known this Before, I should have = Saved Myself much Confusion. Pray Continue.” “A. Good Way to Tell ia by the Chorus,” said the Cousin. “In German Opera they are Differently Dressed, but in Other Kinds they all Look j| Alike and Put their Hands on their Hearts all Together.” “Henceforth I shall Observe the Chorus'. very Carefully,” said the Great Tenor. “You are Evidently an Adept at This. I suppose you .SaSH Rarely make a Mistake?” . t . ■ “Not Often,” said the Cousin, Modestly. “Although Some Things are Perplexing. They Wave their Arms About much the Same in Both Kinds, and the Heroines almost always wear Bronze Slippers with Two Straps. So sometimes, when Your Mantle is Medium Length, I hav* No Means of Judging.” “I am Sure that All you Need is a little More practice,” said the Great Tenor, “and it would Give me Great Pleasure to Place a Chair in the Orchestra at your Disposal for Tomorrow Night, when I will See that my Mantle is Unmistakably Shortened. I should be Glad to Include your Cousin but Unfortunately I have No More Seats Left.” "r*j \ I This teaches us that the Parquet is Not Paved with Good Intentions.

THE WOMAN WHO TOOK THINGS LITERALLY

There was once a Woman who Invited a Celebrated Scientist to Take Tea with her. After Tea a Beggar came to tlje Door and Ashed for a ! Meal. She remembered the Last Page of the Celebrated Scientist’s last Essay, and addressed the Beggar thus: "While I Regret to see you Suffering from Hunger, I Realize that I Injure Society more in Catering to Your Idleness than I Hurt my Feelr

ings in Refusing your intrinsically Vicious Request.” And she Sent him. Away. “Great Heavens!” cried the Celebrated Scientist. “It is Hard Enough for Me to act Thus, and lam Forced to in Qrder to be Consistent. But a Woman, whose Every Instinct should be Charity and Sympathy Incar- j nate—it is Disgusting!” __ This tpaches us that What is Sauce for the Gander may be Saucy fox j the Goose. —■ ■ - -J —: ■■ - - -

Daily Thought.

Our greatest flory consists, not in never falling, but in rising every time we fall. —Goldsmith.

Money’s Voice.

Money talks, but some have an impediment in their income.— Ashley Sterne.

BY JOSEPHINE DODGE DASKAM

AND SHE SENT HIM AWAY.

Affront to Poodles.

"A dog should be meant to took Uka a dog an’ not like somebody's knW tin'.”—Peg o'My Heart.

No Trouble to Please.

Knicker—“ls that «Sr an easy ru* ner!" Enthusiast—Pine; just lie down and let me run over you.”