Enoch Arden of
Skulpin Cove
88
By TRUMAN ORDIORNE
(£ McClure Newspaper Syndicate.
WNU Serv ice.
IUST week In April I was busy
iu the flshhouse knittin’ heads.
I'he Idg doors were open let tin’
In the spring sunshine, the smell
)f the flats nnd the shrill chirp of the
early ring-necks that were dlggin’ for
sand worms iu the mud. As 1 worked
away with the twine it comes Into my
head nil at once. 1 wonder who'll get
Hie wldder I’.aseom? Sid Bascom had
been lost off on tlie Kittle a year be
fore in a nor'west squall. Mis boat was
picked up miles off shore hut tlie body
was never found.
Judith Bascom mourned for a good
husband, like the good woman she was.
But she was a fisherman's daughter and
had known many sea tragedies In the
to years slip had lived at Sknipin Cove.
Judith Bascom was n handsome wom
an, sun-tanned face, good form in spite
of the years, brown eyes that twinkled,
and, like most all tlie daughters of
fishermen, bad a quick wit and u ready
answer,
Sid Bascom had left tils wife fairly
well off—a small farm borderin’ on
tile bench, a fair payin' business, ami
some money. There had been no chil
dren and 1 often wondered if Judith
didn't get lonesome. She was at the
landin' one day bayin' lish ns the boats
came ashore, and I says, jokin’: "Jude,
you look tired.”
“Yes.” she comes back, “1 am tired.
Triune, and lonesome. Can't you lind
me a man?”
“Plenty of 'em fussin' 'round, Jude,’’
I says. “Can't you sort one out?
There’s Deacon Goodwin and Skipper
Sol Becker, both 'bout your age and
well fixed.”
“A saint and a sinner," says Judy.
"One thinks lie is and tlie other knows
he Is," nnd she went on bayin' cod.
As I sat there workin' on the twine
that day 1 heard somebody clampin’
up the path ’round ttie point with rub
her hoots on, humniin’ a hymn tune:
"On ttie other side of Jordan in ttie
sweet fields of Eden," but when lie sees
the flshhouse door open he slacks up
his singin’ nnd hauls to. “Good after
noon, Truman. Mope you are feelln'
well today.”
“Tolerable, Deacon Goodwin. Hope
you're tiie same. Come in nnd rest
yourself. 1 lee you been luinpln.'" He
bad a two-tine fork on bis shoulder
nnd a big lump fish on each tine. In
the spring the tide leaves the lumps
in the little ponds among the ledges,
nnd the natives get them with forks.
The Deacon sets down on a trawl
tub, fidgets some, and asks: ’’Truman,
what do you think of the wldder Bas
com?”
".No smarter woman 'round the
Cove,” I says, “and it don't hurt much
to look at her. Are you thinkin' some
In that quarter, Deacon?"
"I have given some thought nnd
prayer to the matter and 1 need a com
panion nnd helper up to my house, but
Judith is not a church-goin' woman,”
he says.
"Don't let that worry ye any. Den
con. You never heard a word ng’in'
Judith Baseom,” 1 says, “and your
church door Is wide."
The Deacon shouldered his lump fish
and went off up across to his house.
I am about ready to quit and call it
a day when I hears another songster
coinin' down the Cove road:
"Hi de di de, Skipper the dee!
How I love to sing to thee.
I sing with joy and I sing with glee.
For I'm just as young as I used to be."
Skipper Sol Becker shoots up In front
of the door and comes In. Good nature
sticks out all over Skipper Sol, nnd a
mighty good-lookin’, big. wholesome
man he is. He had been to town and
was feelin some chipper. “Hello there.
Triune," hails Skipper Sid. "Got any
thing in the cupboard?”
“Always a drop for you. Cap’ll Sol,"
I says. "Set down while I get It."
"Trume,” says the skipper. "I got
’bout tired bein' an old bach and I’m
tldnkln’ ’bout askin’ Judy I’nscom to
splice up with me. We’ve always been
good friends. Do you think she'll have
me?”
"You old fool," 1 says, “do you think
you can get a wife 'thout doin’ some
courtin'? Go see Judy and take her
'round some. You’ve got a good boss
and buggy. Another thing. Deacon
Goodwin is settin’ his cap in that
quarter.”
“Deacon Goodwin courtin' Judy Itas
com I" harks the skipper. "If I catches
that old Bible-hack skinflint cruisin'
'round her I'll carry away his jib.”
Soon after that the Cove gossips
were busy. Deacon Goodwin was
callin’ on Judy Baseom Wednesday
nights, and she was goin riding with
• 'ap n Sol Becker Sunday afternoons
(if course the Deacon finds it out mud
he reproves Judy for consortin’ with
such a ungodly person ns Sol Becker
"Mrs. Baseom." says the Deacon,
"you well know my reason for calling
on you of late. I sadly need a wife to
care for my house, and If you should
see lit to unite your lot with mine I
shouldn’t want it said that you hnd
been too friendly with such a person
ns Solomon Decker, a man Riven to
profanity and to strong drink at
times."
The Deacon reaches for Judy's warm
hand and holds it. (Site said it was
cold as a fish.) “Judith, I shall call
for my answer next Wednesday even
ing, and in the meantime I shall pray
that you see the light." lie lets go of
her hand and goes home. Judith goes
to bed and thinks it over. Deacon
Goodwin is a good manager, stands way
up In the church, and then she laughs
right out to herself. “Oh, I.ord, what
a lover!"
Sunday afternoon Is sunny and
warm. Cap'n Sol drives up to her
door, his rig all shined up, and Judy
comes out and gets in. They take a
long ride and coming home in the dusk
Skipper Sid does some huggln' and
Judy snuggles up some. Skipper Sol
winds the reins around the whip and
lets Bay Jess walk. Some diiTereut.
she thinks, from the way Peacon Good
win sparks a woman. Skipper Sol
lightens the hitch he’s got ’round Judy
Bascom's waist. "Judy," he says, “I’m
tired of living an old bach up there In
my house. Mother Is a good house
keeper but she is gettin' old. I've got
enough to take care of you without
touchin’ your property and I'll help
run your place. Let's you and I get
spliced. I know you are lonesome well
as I be. What do you say?" and Iip
reached over and kissed tier.
Judy Bascoin liked Sol Becker and
the Peacon was out of It from that
minute. She couldn't bear to think
of him. Then a scheme of half spite
and half mischief comes into her head.
“Sol,” she says, "come to my house
Wednesday evening at 8 o'clock and
I’ll give you an answer.”
Now for Sid Bascom—that nor'west
squall that blew olT the land the day
he was lost lasted three days and then,
as fishermen say, turned the corner
and Idew some more. Sid kept Ids boat
'fore it and bailed long ns he could.
Weak from hunger and thirst he gave
it up. The next he knew he was in
a dirty bunk with a Portugee sailor
standln' over him with some kind of a
iiot drink. Mis head ached had. He
looks around that fo'castle with its row
of bunks and asked the Portugee what
ship he was on and where they were.
"Pis whale barque de Ellen Briggs.
She pickn you up off a da water, beetle
bout, big ocean. You mos’ dead,” the
Portugee tells him.
Sid tries to get out of the bunk but
is too weak and tells the sailor to tell
the Cap’n he wants to see him. Cap’n
Sttidly, a short, stout, red-faced man,
comes to the fo’cnstle and asks Sid
what he wants. “I want to be set
ashore at the nearest port,” says Sid.
“My wife must think I am lost. How
long have I been aboard your ship?"
"Most two weeks,” says the Cap'n,
“and all that time you've been out or
your head. You can thank Manuel here
that you nre alive. I can’t set you
ashore. We are bound on a two years’
w halin’ cruise to the Southern Grounds.
You’ll have to stay aboard.”
Whaling hands were hard to get at
that time, and whaling captains kept
out of ports of call, account of men
deserting, only when obliged to put In
for fresh water and supplies. Sid Bas
coin gradually gained strength and one
day meeting Cap'n Stndly on deck, he
demanded to he landed nt the nearest
harbor, his right as a citizen of the
United States. The captain swore at
Idin, turned him over to the first mate
and gave orders to put the man In one
of the watches.
The Briggs kept away from harbors
where there were cable offices. It was
months before he got a letter ashore
to a small island where passing ships
called a few times a year. At the first
possible cbance he Jumped sldp nt a
South American port. All be had In
the world was the greasy clothes be
Imd on. No need telling how, in time,
lie worked his passage to Boston and
there was given money enough to gel
home to Skulpin Cove.
That Wednesday night that Judith
Baseorn set came Deacon (Soodwin 10
minutes early. Sharp nt 8 came Cap'n
Sol Becker. When he entered the
little parlor and saw the Deacon set
tin’ there, his grin changed to an ugly
scowl. "What in hell yon doin' here,
you old dog robber?''
"I don't mind your ungodly sluts.
Cap'n Becker. I have a right to call
on my neighbors. Mrs. Baseorn asked
nte to come. We have private matters
to discuss."
Just that minute Judy Museum, who
had been out of the room, turns from
the hallway to go in the parlor. She
was goin* to tell the Dencon he was
out. It was Cap'n Becker's turn. Just
that minute the door flew open anil in
rushed a rough looking, iinslmved man
Judith Basconi gives one look." Under
that dirt and growth of whiskers she
recognizes her lost husband. She gives
one screech, and as Skipper Sol told
me afterwards. Ill one holy second they
were Inshed together In a rollin' hitch
The Deacon nnd Skipper Sol went
out of the front door so close together
that they Jammed. When they got
clear the Skipper helped the Deacon
on his way with a hearty kick
Let Our Motto Be
GOOD HEALTH
BY DR. LLOYD ARNOLD
Professor of Bscteriology end[ Preventive
Medicine, University of I llinois,
| College of Medicine. |
regarding rheumatism
You will find rheumatic persons say
ing that they can tell when u storm or
cold weather Is
r o ill l ii K ucwiuo*
they can feel It Id
their bones or lr.
their joints; and
yon will hearothei
persons laughing nl
the I d e n t h a I
weather can af
feet rheumatism.
But the rheu
matic persons are
right. Weather
does affect them.
Students of pre
vent'ive medicine
are beginning to consider man and his
environment ns one organic whole and
are studying gome of our diseases from
this standpoint. We have almost ex
hnusted the Held of bacteriology try
Ing to find germs as the cause of dis
pase. Recent work tends to show that
the skin Is an important factor In
rheumatism.
The skin is not just n covering man
tle or protective clonk of tlie body. It
Is n vast organ concerned with the
sense of feel and touch. It secretes
sweat and oily substances. It also
excretes certain things from the body j
We are finding that the protective
action of the skin can be extended to
guarding us against invasion by germs
around us. The action of sunlight and
ultra-violet light on the skin is well
known to the layman.
We know that the skin can he
changed by the temperature of the air,
by tlie humidity of the air, and also
by changes In barometric pressure.
Tlie skin can be thought of ns a big
receptor organ that receives from the
outside world messages of all kinds
and transmits these to tlie internal
organs, through blood and nerve chan
nels.
The capillary blood channels In the
skin are thought by many authorities
to be involved in rheumatism. It must
not be forgotten that man’s skin is an
important organ in maintaining body
temperature. It can eliminate heat
in the summer time, which is really a
refrigeration function. During the
winter our skin nets as a covering
layer to prevent the loss of heat. In
the summer there is an Increased flow
of blood through the skin, nnd in the
winter there is a Acreased flow.
The patient suffering from rheu
matism does not have a proper con
trol of the blood supply of the skin
and the secretion of sweat. There is
a tendency toward spasmodic contrac
tion of the capillaries nnd at times
these capillaries become engorged with
blood. In other words, there is an
instability in the blood vessels, con
trolling system.
We just mentioned that the skin Is
an Important organ in controlling body
temperature. The rheumatic Individ
ual undergoes wide fluctuations In skin
temperature. There is oftentimes a
subnormal temperature of the skin.
This influences the metabolism of the
body In that we lose the heat-regula
tory function of the skin that is so
Important for our well-being. When
the temperature of the cells within the
body changes there Is a change in the
chemical products of these cells, nnd
many authorities now think that tlds
explains in part the development of
pain In the muscles and Joints.
This Is a new conception of rheu
matism and helps explain some phases
of tlie disease better than the older
bacteriological theory that was diffi
cult to substantiate in many instances.
The abnormal sensitiveness to changes
in weather that nre experienced by all
rheumatics Is due to the fact that
these people do not have the proper
skin function. The circulation of the
skin Is changed ns a result of the al
terations In temperature, humidity and
barometric pressure in such a manner
that Internal disturbances take place
leading to the development of pain In
certain areas of the body.
It Is well known that rheumatic
pains can develop ns a result of hot
temperature environments ns well ns
cold. Over exertion and fatigue fnl
lowed by chilling of the body nre also
common factors.
The proper treatment for rheumatism
is to aid the skm by artificial means to
re-est?b!ish a good circulatory system.
This is the reccon that a hot water
bottle placed on the skin close to the
area of pain will often stop the discom
fort. The proper treatment is an or
ganized medical plan of various types
of physical therapy, such as light treat
ment, heat treatn.ents, massage, baths,
all of which aid the skin to re -establish
its proper circulation.
Wo all live under the same weather
conditions. Due to n lack of control
of his skin, the rheumatic cannot nd
just himself. The rest of us adjust
ourselves perfectly and are in no way
Incapacitated by such weather changes.
The rheumatic speaks very truly when
he snys he can feel weather changes.
©. Western Newtpaper Union.
..Ill..
Floating Bridge Between Cowet and Eaat Cowes.
Prepared by the National Orographic Society,
Washington. D. C.-WNU Service.
ENGLAND’S sunny Isle of Wight
is n sort of cork In the harbor
of Southampton. The Incom
ing tide splits on the Island,
tt piles up the Solent funnel on one
side; then, a few hours later, It fol
ows through Spithead on the other
side. That Is why the world’s biggest
iners can dock at Southampton.
On the landward coast of the Island
s Cowes, famous city of regattas.
\long Its narrow streets quaint, nn
•ient houses alternate with stores that
lisplay anchors and steering wheels,
lautical caps and Held glasses, marine
dictographs and all the burnished
jrass appurtenances of yachting. Ev
?ry few doors tearooms offer tempting
scones and crumpets; and there are
miniature branches of famous shops
>f Regent street and Piccadilly.
Along the water front spreads the
spacious Esplanade, with the Royal
Squadron headquarters projecting up
in It. Tills is the yachting capital
if the world. The sun glistens upon
the plate glass of the protruding gal
lery, grandstand for royalty and high
naval officers, who largely constitute
the membership of the “most exclusive
club In the world."
There they watch the races of Re
gatta week, when the Solent waters
are flecked by fleecy clouds of canvas,
dotted by rainbow hunting and pen
nants, rnd, when night comes, aglitter
with myriad bobbing lights. Members
of this club, nnd none other, may fly
the white pennant of St. George on
their yachts; only members and offi
cers of the Royal navy are privileged
to land nt Its neat Jetty. One world
famous yachtsman, who spent millions
upon bis hobby, was not admitted to
membership until shortly before his
death.
By night or day all the hlg ships
that put In at Southampton must pass
the deeper channel within half a mile
of Cowes. The parapet of the Espla
nade seems built as an elbow support
to keep sea-gazers from tumbling Into
the water.
East Cowes Is Industrious.
Across the leisurely Medina river.
East Cowes takes on the industries
which Cowes proper, and consciously
prim, seems to spurn. There is a ship
building yard which supplies lifeboats
for steamers nnd for bench guards, and
there is an aircraft factory which
builds amphihian planes.
Every store on the precarious hill
side streets Is a reminder of the Is
land's intense preoccupation with the
sea, offering paraphernalia ranging
from oyster tongs to hawsers, and
there are many shops that make shiny
marine engineering parts
It was among the nmrslilunds of
East Cowes that Queen Victoria as a
girl collected seaweed, and formed an
attachment for the Island that led to
her purchase of Osborne House, which
became her favorite place of residence.
It is there today, very much as she
left it. a gift of King Edward VII to
the nation in her memory. The ter
race commands the marine view
which the good queen loved, vistas of
blue ocean through groves of exotic
trees—corks. Ilexes, deodars, ns well
as pines and cedars.
lo reach any part of the Isle of
Wight entails no longer Journey than
taking a taxi across (Jreater London;
it is not quite 23 miles long and no
where witler than 13 miles. Driving
due south from Cowes, across Its axis,
gives a quick picture of Its peculiar
geography. At first the countryside is
wooded, and the clearings are Helds
and meadows where cabbages, carrots,
and broccoli grow, or sheep and cattle
graze.
Forests and Truck Farms.
From tne thick forests of the north
ern Island came the timbers of many
an old mansion and cottuge of south
ern England, nnd today tlitdr dining
room tallies are provided with vege
tables hy the Wight's truck gardens
and rich milk from Its herds of Guern
seys. Anyone wild has eaten In Eng
lish Inns or on English trains must
wonder about the source ul all the
calibnge served witli potatoes at nearly
every meal. Wight can account for
many tons of It.
Soon the trees and farms give way
to vast expanses of acres carpeted
with heather, gorse, ferns, and occa
sional low, wind-blown trees. The
downs, with ns many sectional names
ns n London street, are formed by
chalk uplands which stretch straight
west nnd east across the Island, hump
ing to some 700 feet at places, and
thrusting frnetured fragments Into the
sea nt the Needles on the west and
Culver Cliff on the east. The pedes
trian who yields to the spell of their
lonely paths gets nn Impression of a
height much greater than the altitude
warrants. One can climb across them
In an hour’s walk at their widest part
Island’s “Sun Traps."
The southern half of Wight la a
“bowl,” sagging between the downa
nnd the seaside cliffs that look so
bleak to ship passengers as they round
the Island for Southampton. Barren
they are, these corrugnted cliffs, but
the Islanders call them their sun trap
because they cut off the fogs and tem
per the ocean winds. The trees are
not so ninny, but the soil is fertile, the
climate is milder, nnd the crop yield
greater In this sheltered saucer.
Most of Wight's attraction for visi
tors and its wealth of historic associ
ations—ranging from the Itoman occu
pation, through Jutish Immigration,
Danish assault, French attacks, and
pirate raids—cling to Its coast East
ward from sedate Cowes Is the up-and
coming resort town of Hyde, with Its
lamp posts that wear garlands of
Mowers, Its tiny tramcars, nnd Its spick
promenade where, on cloudless days,
women knit ns they garner sun tan.
Its long, spidery pier Is landing place
for thousands of “trippers” from Ports
mouth every summer week-end, and Its
domed pavilion offers concerts and
“snack" counters for their entertain
ment
second only to cowes wees is me
regatta of Ryde’s Royal Victoria Yacht
club. And a pretty touch Is a children’s
regatta, held at their large boating
lake, where young mariners sail elab
orate toy craft and ride about In pad
dle-wheel boats propelled by handles.
Bradlng an Old Town.
An hour’s easy walk south of Ryde
is “Ye Kynge’s Towne of Bradlng,”
where beaches and bathing machines,
piers and yachts seem very far away.
Yet along Brading’s high and dry Blgb
street ships once sailed under the eaves
of the timbered buildings, and one
might pick from a score of shipmas
ters to take a cargo into the most dis
tant port. Bradlng recalls the days
wnen towns were set far up the Is
land’s meager rivers, or well back In
some arm of the sea. as a protection
against invasion or piiate raids. Yet
the inhabitants, expert In their knowl
edge of tides and treacherous chan
nels. could put out to salt water to
fish or trade. Long ago slit blocked
Beading's harbor, and now dikes have
thrust ttie sea some two miles from
Its center.
Brnding church, the oldest In the Is
land, is mentioned In Domesday Book.
In Its chapel is buried Sir John Og
lander, who was garnering his salty
chronicles of Wight while the Pilgrims
were struggling to survive at Plymouth
and the early Maryland settlers were
putting forth from Cowes to St. Mary's.
ICast of Brnding, sheltered among
the cliffs, is the lovely seaside village
of Bembridge, which the world seems
to have passed by. The town lies
along the embankment, “the only level
mile on the island,” which has severed
Brnding Harbor from Its name town,
and tlds situation gives It the aspect of
"Little Holland.”
The camera, better than words, can
portray the bold beauty of the Fore
land, the majestic curvuture of White
cliff .bay, and the crumbling promon
tory of Culver Cliff, where the downs
bare their chulky face to the sea. Very
often the encroaching tides have
carved under the steep cliffs until they
lean out, like the sagging old houses
in Brnding and Shnnklln. Walking too
near their edge is precarious, for often
huge blocks break off and tumble sev
eral hundred feet Into the ocean.