CHAPTER XVIII--The Echo of a World Tragedy
Sunday proved the most dismal day during the outing of the Boy Scouts inthe woods of Southern Maine. The rain which set in on the previousevening continued, with only an occasional let-up, until late at night.So dense a fog overhung the lake that not once was the party able todetect the opposite shore, where Doctor Spellman and his family passedthe dreary hours as best they could. The Sabbath was always observed bythe Boy Scouts. Had the weather been good, they would have refrainedfrom making excursions through the forest, fishing or anything in thenature of amusement. While Scout Master Hall might be regarded by someas puritanical in a few of his ideas, he was broad minded and held awholesome broadness of views, with a full sympathy for boyhood whichexplained his popularity among his younger associates.
As has been intimated, the troop contained lads of the Jewish, theCatholic and the Protestant faith, but all were bound together by agenerous charity that could never wound the feelings of the mostsensitive. There may have been some chaffing over the work of thenational political conventions at Chicago and Baltimore, but it was goodnatured and left no sting behind. If, as once or twice occurred, thediscussion threatened to become too warm, the Scout Master interposedwith a few words which made all serene again.
It was the custom of the leader to give his boys a talk every Sundayevening. Of course it was appropriate for the day and beneficial toevery one, for no counsel could be sounder and no appeal more persuasiveand in accordance with the great Teacher of all.
Thus it came about that when the long day had worn away, the last mealhad been eaten, the dishes put by and nothing further remained to bedone, the party gathered in the spacious sitting room of the bungalow,where most of them took easy positions on the floor, while a few,including the Scout Master, were seated in chairs. The air continued sochilly that the big fire on the hearth was kept ablaze, and diffused agenial, welcome warmth. The hanging lamp was not lighted, for the flamegave abundant illumination in which every one could recognize the facesof his comrades.
"Boys," said the leader, "my thoughts this afternoon have been drawntoward the greatest tragedy of the sea in all history,--the sinking ofthe _Titanic_ one April by collision with an iceberg in the northernAtlantic. None of you can forget the terrifying calamity, the like ofwhich, as I have said, the world has never known. There are manyfeatures of the catastrophe of which I shall not speak more than torefer to the criminal neglect to provide enough life boats, the recklessdriving ahead when it was known icebergs were near, the foolish beliefthat the _Titanic_ was unsinkable.
"But there are other facts connected with the tragedy upon which it iswell to dwell for a few minutes. In the first place, few personscomprehend the stupendous bulk of the _Titanic_ and her sister ship the_Olympic_. I ask you for a moment to fix in your minds a clear idea ofthe distance of a sixth of a mile. You can readily do so. Starting fromthis bungalow, picture how far such a walk along shore would take you."
The Scout Master paused for a moment and resumed:
"Such was the length of the _Titanic_, whose sides towered more thanseventy feet above the surface of the ocean. One of our biggest expressrailway trains would look like a toy placed alongside of her. Viewedfrom a brief distance, the steamer gave you no idea of its overwhelmingproportions. You must stand close beside such a craft, walk the deck,and compare it with other vessels near at hand.
"Such is the leviathan which is plunging westward at almost expresstrain speed through the night, with nearly three thousand human beingson board. Then comes the crash with the ice mountain, which inflicts amortal wound, and this supposed unsinkable monster begins settling whereshe shall dive for two miles before finding her eternal grave at thebottom of the sea.
"Who can forget the thrilling heroism displayed by men and women whenthey knew they had but a few more minutes to live. It has been said, anddoubtless it is true, that many of those who stood by and helped thewomen into the few life boats, believed they were safer on the steamerthan in the small craft. One of the survivors told me he was ashamed toleave and would not have done so, except for the urgency of his wife.Even then he was sure of soon returning and being laughed at by thosewho had not left the steamer at all.
"It is probable, I say, that this was true to a greater or less extent,but the fact remains that, when the awful doom became certain, thehighest heroism was displayed by women and men from many of whom theworld expected no such sublime sacrifice. The men helped the women toplaces in the hurriedly launched boats, husbands literally forced theirwives to leave, embraced and kissed them good-bye, fearing they wouldnever meet again in this world, and still spoke cheering words.
"I cannot express my emotions when I read of the last scene of all.Think of the eight musicians, who at first in the hope of infusingcourage into the hearts of the doomed multitude, played inspiritingairs, but when the grim shadow settled over them and the merciless treadof Death was heard hurrying over the deck, shifted to the hymn 'Nearer,my God, to Thee,' and continued playing with exquisite, unfalteringskill until the inrushing sweep of waves palsied each hand and tongueand huddled all into eternity.
"I have been told that while they were playing, scores of passengersgathered round and joined in singing the hymn. They were led by a manwith a rich tenor voice, who calmly beat time with one upraised hand ashe looked unwaveringly into the white faces of his doomed companions. Hesang without the tremor of a note to the end.
"Michael, will you please sing those words for us?"
Mike was sitting on the floor, beside Isaac Rothstein near thefireplace, absorbed as was every one in the vivid picture which ScoutMaster Hall drew of the tragedy of the centuries. All held their breath,and they seemed to see the plunge of the _Titanic_ to her grave at thebottom of the tempestuous Atlantic.
The call upon Mike was so unexpected by him that he did not stir for amoment. Then he slowly rose to his feet, cleared his throat and sang inthat marvelous voice, whose sweetness surpassed anything that ScoutMaster or Boy Scout had ever heard:
"Nearer, my God, to thee, Nearer to thee! E'en though it be a cross That raiseth me! Still all my song shall be, Nearer, my God, to thee, Nearer to thee!
"Though like a wanderer, The sun gone down, Darkness be over me, My rest a stone, Yet in my dreams I'd be Nearer, my God, to thee, Nearer to thee!"
Before the singer had finished the first verse there was not a dry eyein the room. Several boys swallowed hard and tried to hide theiremotion, but it was useless.
It was all Mike could do to keep to his task, for the spell of the ScoutMaster's words was upon him and he could not wholly resist theenthralment of his own voice. At the moment of finishing the secondverse, Isaac Rothstein hurriedly covered his face with his hands andsobbed as if his heart was breaking. His grief was so deep that theothers looked pityingly toward him, and the singer himself was overcomefor the moment. He started on the third stanza, but his voice broke, andhe stood trying bravely to pull himself together.
Young Rothstein, with one hand over his face reached up the other andseized the fingers of Mike. Amid his sobs he faltered:
"That man who led the singing was my father!"
Mike placed one arm over the shoulder of the stricken lad and sat downbeside him.
"Can ye forgive me?" he tenderly asked; "I didn't draam of anything ofthe kind?"
"Go on!--sing the rest," moaned the Jewish youth.
Mike rose to his feet, and with tears streaming down his cheeks triedhard to comply with the request. But he could not; he dropped down morehastily than before and covering his own face shook with sympatheticgrief and the same may be said of every one in the room.
Sunshine and storm commingle and strive for mastery; tears bedew thecheek of laughter; the peal of the wedding bells changes to tolling forthe dead; grief treads on the heels of rejoicing, and Life and Deathwith hands forever clasped wander up and down the earth, and may Godpity us all!