A TERRIBLE SAIL.

Te Aroha News, Volume VII, Issue 443, 5 February 1890, Page 3

A TERRIBLE SAIL.

* How did my hair turn white ? I will tell , you the story. ‘On my way to Exeter on business, my present wife, to whom I was at that time betrothed, asked me to get a bottle of chloroform for her mother’s headache. After transacting my business I returned home, and was almost at my gate when I met Hugh Rawdon. He was a big, handsome fellow and my rival for Ethel’s hand. I wanted to keep on good terms with him naturally, so when he asked me cheerily to take a sail with him I could not refuse ; besides it was a glorious day. 4 After tacking about some time I suggested returning, but be would not hear of it. I was enjoying myself too much to urge him, but by sunset I thought of my engagement with Ethel and that we must be on our way back. I told him my thoughts. ‘ In an instant his whole manner changed. (* He sprang up, almost upsetting the little craft with the violence of his motion, and, J coming close up to me, said in a very deep, hoarse voice : 4 44 Herbert Wallace, you will go back no more. ” 4 I was utterlydumnfoundedwithastonishment. At first I thought he was only perpetrating a foolish joke, but when I glanced into his eyes and saw there the awful fire of madness my wonder soon gave way to fear. 4 There he stood, glaring down upon me. Slowly, without removing his eyes from my face, he put hie hands behind him and drew from his hip-pocket a small Colt’s revolver. 4 “ Move One inch and I blow your brains out/’ he said. With his unoccupied hand he cast loose the hilliard and the sail fell with a thud. Still covering me with the revolver, he next threw the oars overboard and then sat quietly down opposite me. 414 My dear Rawdon,” I began, bub he interrupted me fiercely. 1 “ Silence, sir, and hear me ! I have brought you out here to kill you. I have been thinking of this moment for days and weeks together—brooding over it, glorying in it, feeding on it. Ha, ha! you think I am mad. Yes, I am mad!” and he burst into a loud blood-curdling laugh that made my very flesh creep. ‘“Mad? Yes!” he continued ; “but what has made me so ? Hear me, Herbert Wallace, hear my story, and own your doom just. Ethel ! Oh, bow I loved her ! For her I toiled ; for her I fought; aye, for her I sinned. To-night, therefore, I will enjoy your misery ; to-morrow we will jump overboard together. Think of Ethel—think of her lost to you as to me for ever ! Ha 1 ha ’ ha !” and again that awful laugh echoed across the waves. ‘I have, and had, my fair portion of strength, bub I was no match for Hugh Rawdon. Yet my only chance of life was to overcome him and either bind or hurl him overboard. He had replaced his revolver, apparently satisfied that I would offer no resistance, and, seizing my opportunity, as soon as he sab down 1 sprang wildly upon him. With a yell like the howl of a wild beast he received me, and the next instant we were engaged in the most awful struggle ever man imagined. I had taken him at a disadvantage, and life, love, and Ethel seemed to lend strength to my arm and courage to my heart. He durst not let me go for one instant to reach the revolver, and I gradually pressed him back, back over, the stern of the little boat. With a tremendous effort the madman recovered himself, and the next instant I was lying on my back in the bottom of the boat with his knees firmly planted on my chest. Oh the agony of that moment! I expected to be instantly pistolled, but to my astonishment Rawdon seemed calm and quiet. ‘“You had better not have resisted. Now I must tie you,” was all he said. 4 Never giving me a chance of regaining my feet, he lifted me up and stretched me across the thwarts, binding me to them, hand and foot, with the halliards. 4 lt was now quite dark. For an hour or two Rawdon sat still. Then he rose, and coming to me, said 4 “I am sleepy and tired. Such violent exercise as you have compelled me to take 1 is not healthy in this warm weather ; so, with your permission, I will lie under the thwarts and get a nap.” I suppose I gave some involuntary 3igh or other mark of renewed hope, for he added : “ Don’t deceive yourself. The least movement will wake me. We are only postponing our entry into the next world till to-morrow.” He lay down in the bottom of the boat, and presently his regular breathing told me that be slept. ‘Just at that moment a drop of spray dashed into my face. With a supreme , effort I broke my bonds, and, pulling out my handkerchief, wiped it off, and was replacing my handkerchief, when I felt in the corner of my pocket a little hard packet. In an instant it flashed upon my mind. Here was my deliverance! That little bottle of chloroform which I had bought in Exeter and forgotten till that moment, would save my life. With one silent cry of 1 prayer and thankfulness I drew it out. In spite of my dreadful struggle it had escaped uninjured. I pulled out the cork with my teeth, and folding my handkerchief into a pad I saturated it with chloroform, and, creeping to the sleeping maniac, laid it gently over his mouth and nose. Then I bound him as firmly as possible with every bit of rope in the boat and took away the | revolver. He had not moved from the ' moment when he lay down. 4 At length the morning came, and with it, in the distance, a sail. I signalled as well as I could, for I was still afraid to ehout. At last they saw me, and, bearing down, took me on board. Shortly after Rawdon awoke from his sleep, and when he saw that his prey had slipped through his 1 fingers his ravings were frightful. I had escaped death, but since that awful night my hair has been as you see it. Eh ? What became of Rawdon ? Poor fellow ! he died in an asylum two days after. Ethel and I were married a year later.’— ‘ New York Morning Journal.’