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Speaker 1: Molly Ryan's Christmas Eve by W. J. Henderson. It was

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bitter cold on the night before Christmas, in latitude forty

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degrees thirty minutes north longitude fifty degrees west. That lies

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just south of the southern extremity of the Grand Banks

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of Newfoundland, and a wild, melancholy, uneasy part of the

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Atlantic Ocean. It is at the best of times, but

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on a Christmas Eve, with the wind in the northwest,

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it is a home of desolation. The wind was northwesterly

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on that particular Christmas Eve, and it was blowing what

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landsmen would call half a gale and a sailor a

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brisk breeze. But the good steamer Astoria from Liverpool for

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New York made no account of a wind, which served

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only to increase the draft in her fire room and

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to enable the engineer to squeeze half a dozen more

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revolutions per minute out of the propeller. She was making

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a fair nineteen and a half knock per hour when

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the cold spray came over the weather bow like a

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discharge of shot made of ice, and slashed the face

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of the first officer away up on the bridge. He

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only pulled his cap more tightly down over his ears,

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hauled the muffler higher around his neck, squinted at the

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compass card, and gritted his teeth, for he realized that

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the mighty machine under his feet was letting the degrees

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of longitude drop astern at a pace which promised the

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steamship a splendid winter record. If the captain had only

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laid the course to the Nord, he muttered, we'd have

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broken the record. I don't see what he's a bugaluggin

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around here, for as if we was in the middle

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of summer with ice on the banks. Keep your eyes

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in the bowl, you. The last remark was addressed to

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the man at the wheel. I thought I seed some

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when we ridzed to the last sea, Sir, said the man. See,

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you couldn't see your grandmother's ghost on such a night.

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Lad It's blacker an the inside of a bubblefish. It

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was black, and no mistake. Little Molly Ryan, who was

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among the poor steerage passengers with her father and mother,

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wondered if the ship was sailing on the ocean or

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just on darkness. Molly ought not to have been on deck,

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and if any sailor had seen her, she would have

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been quickly sent below. But she was such a little body,

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and she huddled up so closely under the edge of

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the poop that no one discovered her. It was so

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gloomy and close in the steerage quarters, and so many

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poor women were sick that Mollie had stolen away while

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her parents were dozing. To catch a breath of fresh air.

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The cold wind seemed to pierce through her, but she

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was fascinated by the darkness, and after a time she

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climbed up and sat on the rail, looking at the

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ghostly foam as it hurled itself against the iron side

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and swept hissing away under the quarter. Molly was in

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great danger, but she did not know it. She fancied

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she saw away down there in the black and white waters,

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a beautiful Christmas tree, loaded with silver toys that came

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and went with the foam. Molly had never had a

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Christmas tree, but she had heard about them, and her

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fondest hope was that some day she might see one.

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She leaned far out, looking down into the waters, and

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of course she could not know how close the bark

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merry Ellis was, But the merry Ellis was altogether too close.

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She was flying swiftly along before the wind thundering down

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into the yawning hollows that flung her boughs aloft again

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with terrible force, and her course was diagonally across the

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bows of the steamer. Now, the skipper of the Merry

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Ellis was a rough, mean man, and he was trying

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to save oil, so his side lights were not burning,

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but those of the steamer were, and the watch on

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the Bark's deck ought to have seen them, but for

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some reason they did not. So every moment the two

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ships kept drawing closer and closer together. Just as a

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steward happened to catch sight of Molly and called to

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her to get down, there was a sudden outbreak of

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shouts forward. The first officer immediately called a swift order

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to the man at the wheel, then sprang to the

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engine room telegraph and signaled the engineer to stop. A

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few seconds later there was a jar, a noise of

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rending wood, and the Estoria struck the Merry Ellis a

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glancing blow on her port quarter, carrying away a part

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of her bullocks. At the same instant, Molly Ryan fell

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off the Estoria's rail into the sea. Man overboard screamed

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the steward, who had reached the spot, just a moment

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too late to catch her. But it takes a long

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time to stop a steamer going nearly twenty knots an hour,

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and by the time the first boat was lowered, the

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estoria was far beyond the spot where Molly went over Forately,

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for Molly, when she came to the surface, half strangled,

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her little hands struck something hard which floated. With the

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strength of despair, she climbed upon it. It was the

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part of the Mary Ellen's bulwarks that had been knocked

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off in the collision. Still more fortunately for Molly, the

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captain of the barque, rushing on deck and hearing the

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cry man overboard, thought that those words came from some

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one on his own vessel, and ordered one of his

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boats lowered away. Groping in the blackness amid the tumbling waters,

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the crew of this boat found Molly and took her

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aboard the bark. What exclaimed the captain, only a kid,

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Take her forward, some of you and see her looked after,

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And having made sure that the bark was not seriously injured,

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he returned to his cabin to sleep.

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Speaker 2: Well.

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Speaker 1: Handsome sat a long lean seaman with a pointed beard,

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who looked for all the world like a Connecticut farmer.

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What ye goin to do with yer wreckage? Now? Yo

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got her thaw her out, said Hansome, as he was called,

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carrying Molly into the galley. The sailors fell into a

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general discussion as to how Molly should be treated, for

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the poor little thing was quite unconscious and her clothes

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were freezing on her. However, after a while she was

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undressed properly and gently thawed out and put to bed.

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The sailor called Hansom, mixed a warm drink and poured

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it between her teeth. She gave a little gasp, opened

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her eyes and gazed around. Oh, she muttered, there isn't

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any Christmas tree after all, and with that she fainted

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away again. The sailors looked at one another in solemn silence,

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till finally one said, in a deep bass voice, Well,

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if she ain't a huntin for trees on the southerly

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end of the Grand Banks, well that's what she's a

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lookin for. That's what she's a gun for to get,

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said Handsome, slapping one huge fist into the other, and

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then he and the other seamen sat down under the

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foxhel lamp and conversed earnestly in low tones. After several

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minutes of talk, they all arose, and Farmer Joe said, handsome,

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you are considerable part. Win your part, but there's no

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time to lose. We must get to work right away.

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While these rough sailors were at work, little Molly passed

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from a state of unconsciousness to one of sleep. The

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big seamen took turns in watching over her. It was

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not a pretty bedroom that Molly had that night. It

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was dark and dingy and full of weird noises of

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groaning timbers. A swinging lantern threw changeful shadows into all

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the corners and showed some very rude bunks in which

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several sailors off watch were trying to snatch a brief rest.

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Just behind those bunks against the stout sides of the bark,

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the seas burst in booming shocks and ever and anon.

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There was a noise of falling water overhead, up and

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away the boughs would soar and then plunge down again

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with the sickening rush into the turmoil of foam. But

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of course the sailors thought nothing of all these things.

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The foxhel was their home, and they were long ago

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hardened to its sights and sounds. In spite of everything,

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Molly slept quite soundly, wrapped in a rough blanket with

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a pea jacket spread over her shoulders, while Handsome and

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the other sailors were at work with a boat hook,

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some small pieces of wood, oakum, and green paint. Whatever

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it was that they were making, it was strange enough

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to look at, but their hearts were in their work,

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and they conversed earnestly in low tones. At last it

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was finished and set up in a bucket close against

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the bulkhead, where the lantern shed its fitful light full

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upon it. Very good, too, said Handsome, gazing at it.

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But it won't do unless it's got something mount Wit

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and those sailormen went rummaging in their chests, and as

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they had been voyagers in all parts of the globe,

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they brought forthsome curious toys to put upon the wondrous

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Christmas tree which they had made. Handsome contributed three large

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shells from the Indian Ocean, a dried mermaid and a

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small Hindu god, which answered very well for a dolly.

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Another produced a south African dagger, Chinese puzzle, and three

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brass nose rings from a South Pacific island. Farmer Joe

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brought out a stuffed marmoset, an Indian amulet, and a

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tin type likeness of himself. A fourth sailor fished out

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of his chest a beautiful India silk handkerchief and a

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string of coral Handsome gravely hung them on the Christmas tree.

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When all was done, he stepped back and studied the effect.

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Very good too, he said, yes, said Farmer Joe, I

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guess you couldn't it get any sitch tree as that

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to helm. At six o'clock on Christmas more morning, Molly awoke.

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It was still dark and the lantern's light was but dim.

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The sailors were huddled back in the corner, farthest from

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their wonderful Christmas tree, which was set up where the

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child's eyes were most likely to fall on it as

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soon as she sat up in her bunk. So when

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Molly awoke, she did sit up and stare straight in

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front of her with sleepy eyes, trying to collect her

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thoughts and make out where she was. Gradually she became

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conscious of the tree. Her eyes opened wider, and wider.

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She almost ceased to breathe for a few moments. Then

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suddenly she clapped her hands together and with a little

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scream of delight, cried joyously, why it's a Christmas tree.

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The sailors nudged one another, and Handsome could not restrain

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a chuckle. Molly heard and looked around at them. A

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puzzled expression came over her face, and she studied her

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surroundings for a minute. Isn't that a Christmas tree? She asked,

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That's what it is, cried English. And we also is

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Santa Clauses, Oh, exclaimed Molly. What funny Santa Claus is?

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I always thought there was only one well aboard this

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ear bark, There is several, and oh, cried Molly, clapping

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her hands and jumping out of the bunk. What a

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lot of funny things I've got for my Christmas? I

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never got much before, but I think I'd rather have

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my father and mother please. And then she looked as

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if she were about to cry. Don't go for to cry,

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said Hansome. I'll sing you a song. You are a

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nice Santa Claus, cried Molly, brightening up. And all the

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rest of you, Santa clauses jine in with the chorus,

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said Hansome, standing up and taking a hitch at his trousers,

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And then he sang, how the cookies at the binnacle,

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the captain's in the galley, and the may teas at

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the fore top, with Sally in our alley, and the

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steward's on the bob's day, and a fishin' hard for soul.

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The winds up and down the masts. O, roll boys.

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Speaker 2: Roll, roll boys, roll boys, never mind.

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Speaker 1: The weather, no matter how the wind blows, we'll all

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get there together. Oh, the captain couldn't steer a ship

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because he was Alascar. The cook he had to show

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the way from France to Madagascar. The ship she couldn't

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carry sail because she had no riggin The crew they

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had to live on clams twas very deep fer diggin'.

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Speaker 2: Roll boys, roll boys. Never mind the weather, no matter

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how the.

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Speaker 1: Wind blows, We'll all get there together. The cook says,

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let the anchors go. The crew says, we ain't got em.

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The captain yells, then pack your trunks. We'll all go

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to the bottom. The steward, O the lead sir, twas

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three feet deep.

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Speaker 2: No more so.

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Speaker 1: Every mother's son of us got up an walked ashore.

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Speaker 2: Roll boys, roll boys, never mind the weather, no matter

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how the.

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Speaker 1: Wind blows, we'll all get there together. The land was

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full of cannibals, which made it interestin'. We told them

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not to eat us fur we was such bad digestin.

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The King comes down to see us, and he sports

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a paper collar, and he says, if we'll clear out

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o that, he'll give us half a dollar.

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Speaker 2: Roll boys, roll boys, never mind the weather, no matter

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how the wind blows, we'll all get there together.

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Speaker 1: So we fells an inja rubber tree. An makes a

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big canoe about the shape and pattern of a number

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twenty shoe. The cook he draws a sextant, and the

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captain draws his pistill. One shoots the sun, and one

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the king, and off we goes for Bristol.

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Speaker 2: Roll boys, roll boys, never mind the weather, no matter

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how the wind.

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Speaker 1: Blows, we'll all get there together. And now we're safe

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ashore again. We're goin for to stay. There's grub to eat,

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and grog for all, and wages good to pay. I'll

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cross my legs upon a stool and never be a sailor.

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I'd rather be a butcher, or a baker, or a tailor.

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Roll boys, roll boys, never mind the weather, no matter

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how the wind blows, We'll all get there together. At

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the end of the song, all the seamen stood up,

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joined hands, and danced around, roaring out what Handsome called

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the correous in such tremendous voices that the captain, who

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had come on deck, ran to the foxhel hatch to

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see what was going on. He dropped down among his

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men so suddenly that they all paused in silence, expecting

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an outbreak of anger. But the captain slowly realized the

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meaning of the scene upon which he had intruded, and said,

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all right, lads, amuse her and take good care of her,

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and when we get to New York, I'll make it

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my business to find her father. He was as good

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as his word, and in due time Molly was placed

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in the arms of her parents, who had been mourning

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her as dead. It was a joyous reunion, you may

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be sure. But all the rest of her life Molly

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remembered her strange Christmas Eve at sea, and her wonderful

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Christmas tree, And of Molly Ryan's Christmas Eve by W. J.

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Henderson