Sunday proved the most dismal day during the outing of the Boy Scouts in
the woods of Southern Maine. The rain which set in on the previous
evening 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 to
detect the opposite shore, where Doctor Spellman and his family passed
the dreary hours as best they could. The Sabbath was always observed by
the Boy Scouts. Had the weather been good, they would have refrained
from making excursions through the forest, fishing or anything in the
nature of amusement. While Scout Master Hall might be regarded by some
as puritanical in a few of his ideas, he was broad minded and held a
wholesome broadness of views, with a full sympathy for boyhood which
explained his popularity among his younger associates.
As has been intimated, the troop contained lads of the Jewish, the
Catholic and the Protestant faith, but all were bound together by a
generous charity that could never wound the feelings of the most
sensitive. There may have been some chaffing over the work of the
national political conventions at Chicago and Baltimore, but it was good
natured and left no sting behind. If, as once or twice occurred, the
discussion threatened to become too warm, the Scout Master interposed
with a few words which made all serene again.
It was the custom of the leader to give his boys a talk every Sunday
evening. Of course it was appropriate for the day and beneficial to
every one, for no counsel could be sounder and no appeal more persuasive
and in accordance with the great Teacher of all.
Thus it came about that when the long day had worn away, the last meal
had been eaten, the dishes put by and nothing further remained to be
done, 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 so
chilly that the big fire on the hearth was kept ablaze, and diffused a
genial, welcome warmth. The hanging lamp was not lighted, for the flame
gave abundant illumination in which every one could recognize the faces
of his comrades.
“Boys,” said the leader, “my thoughts this afternoon have been drawn
toward the greatest tragedy of the sea in all history,—the sinking of
the _Titanic_ one April by collision with an iceberg in the northern
Atlantic. None of you can forget the terrifying calamity, the like of
which, as I have said, the world has never known. There are many
features of the catastrophe of which I shall not speak more than to
refer to the criminal neglect to provide enough life boats, the reckless
driving ahead when it was known icebergs were near, the foolish belief
that the _Titanic_ was unsinkable.
“But there are other facts connected with the tragedy upon which it is
well to dwell for a few minutes. In the first place, few persons
comprehend 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 of
the distance of a sixth of a mile. You can readily do so. Starting from
this 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 than
seventy feet above the surface of the ocean. One of our biggest express
railway trains would look like a toy placed alongside of her. Viewed
from a brief distance, the steamer gave you no idea of its overwhelming
proportions. 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 express
train speed through the night, with nearly three thousand human beings
on board. Then comes the crash with the ice mountain, which inflicts a
mortal wound, and this supposed unsinkable monster begins settling where
she shall dive for two miles before finding her eternal grave at the
bottom of the sea.
“Who can forget the thrilling heroism displayed by men and women when
they knew they had but a few more minutes to live. It has been said, and
doubtless it is true, that many of those who stood by and helped the
women into the few life boats, believed they were safer on the steamer
than in the small craft. One of the survivors told me he was ashamed to
leave 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 those
who 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, the
highest heroism was displayed by women and men from many of whom the
world expected no such sublime sacrifice. The men helped the women to
places in the hurriedly launched boats, husbands literally forced their
wives to leave, embraced and kissed them good-bye, fearing they would
never 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 infusing
courage into the hearts of the doomed multitude, played inspiriting
airs, but when the grim shadow settled over them and the merciless tread
of Death was heard hurrying over the deck, shifted to the hymn ‘Nearer,
my God, to Thee,’ and continued playing with exquisite, unfaltering
skill until the inrushing sweep of waves palsied each hand and tongue
and huddled all into eternity.
“I have been told that while they were playing, scores of passengers
gathered round and joined in singing the hymn. They were led by a man
with a rich tenor voice, who calmly beat time with one upraised hand as
he looked unwaveringly into the white faces of his doomed companions. He
sang 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 the
fireplace, absorbed as was every one in the vivid picture which Scout
Master 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 the
bottom of the tempestuous Atlantic.
The call upon Mike was so unexpected by him that he did not stir for a
moment. Then he slowly rose to his feet, cleared his throat and sang in
that marvelous voice, whose sweetness surpassed anything that Scout
Master 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 eye
in the room. Several boys swallowed hard and tried to hide their
emotion, but it was useless.
It was all Mike could do to keep to his task, for the spell of the Scout
Master’s words was upon him and he could not wholly resist the
enthralment of his own voice. At the moment of finishing the second
verse, Isaac Rothstein hurriedly covered his face with his hands and
sobbed as if his heart was breaking. His grief was so deep that the
others looked pityingly toward him, and the singer himself was overcome
for the moment. He started on the third stanza, but his voice broke, and
he stood trying bravely to pull himself together.
Young Rothstein, with one hand over his face reached up the other and
seized 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 down
beside him.
“Can ye forgive me?” he tenderly asked; “I didn’t draam of anything of
the kind?”
“Go on!—sing the rest,” moaned the Jewish youth.
Mike rose to his feet, and with tears streaming down his cheeks tried
hard to comply with the request. But he could not; he dropped down more
hastily than before and covering his own face shook with sympathetic
grief and the same may be said of every one in the room.
Sunshine and storm commingle and strive for mastery; tears bedew the
cheek of laughter; the peal of the wedding bells changes to tolling for
the dead; grief treads on the heels of rejoicing, and Life and Death
with hands forever clasped wander up and down the earth, and may God
pity us all!