Speaker 1: Molly Ryan's Christmas Eve by W. J. Henderson. It was
bitter cold on the night before Christmas, in latitude forty
degrees thirty minutes north longitude fifty degrees west. That lies
just south of the southern extremity of the Grand Banks
of Newfoundland, and a wild, melancholy, uneasy part of the
Atlantic Ocean. It is at the best of times, but
on a Christmas Eve, with the wind in the northwest,
it is a home of desolation. The wind was northwesterly
on that particular Christmas Eve, and it was blowing what
landsmen would call half a gale and a sailor a
brisk breeze. But the good steamer Astoria from Liverpool for
New York made no account of a wind, which served
only to increase the draft in her fire room and
to enable the engineer to squeeze half a dozen more
revolutions per minute out of the propeller. She was making
a fair nineteen and a half knock per hour when
the cold spray came over the weather bow like a
discharge of shot made of ice, and slashed the face
of the first officer away up on the bridge. He
only pulled his cap more tightly down over his ears,
hauled the muffler higher around his neck, squinted at the
compass card, and gritted his teeth, for he realized that
the mighty machine under his feet was letting the degrees
of longitude drop astern at a pace which promised the
steamship a splendid winter record. If the captain had only
laid the course to the Nord, he muttered, we'd have
broken the record. I don't see what he's a bugaluggin
around here, for as if we was in the middle
of summer with ice on the banks. Keep your eyes
in the bowl, you. The last remark was addressed to
the man at the wheel. I thought I seed some
when we ridzed to the last sea, Sir, said the man. See,
you couldn't see your grandmother's ghost on such a night.
Lad It's blacker an the inside of a bubblefish. It
was black, and no mistake. Little Molly Ryan, who was
among the poor steerage passengers with her father and mother,
wondered if the ship was sailing on the ocean or
just on darkness. Molly ought not to have been on deck,
and if any sailor had seen her, she would have
been quickly sent below. But she was such a little body,
and she huddled up so closely under the edge of
the poop that no one discovered her. It was so
gloomy and close in the steerage quarters, and so many
poor women were sick that Mollie had stolen away while
her parents were dozing. To catch a breath of fresh air.
The cold wind seemed to pierce through her, but she
was fascinated by the darkness, and after a time she
climbed up and sat on the rail, looking at the
ghostly foam as it hurled itself against the iron side
and swept hissing away under the quarter. Molly was in
great danger, but she did not know it. She fancied
she saw away down there in the black and white waters,
a beautiful Christmas tree, loaded with silver toys that came
and went with the foam. Molly had never had a
Christmas tree, but she had heard about them, and her
fondest hope was that some day she might see one.
She leaned far out, looking down into the waters, and
of course she could not know how close the bark
merry Ellis was, But the merry Ellis was altogether too close.
She was flying swiftly along before the wind thundering down
into the yawning hollows that flung her boughs aloft again
with terrible force, and her course was diagonally across the
bows of the steamer. Now, the skipper of the Merry
Ellis was a rough, mean man, and he was trying
to save oil, so his side lights were not burning,
but those of the steamer were, and the watch on
the Bark's deck ought to have seen them, but for
some reason they did not. So every moment the two
ships kept drawing closer and closer together. Just as a
steward happened to catch sight of Molly and called to
her to get down, there was a sudden outbreak of
shouts forward. The first officer immediately called a swift order
to the man at the wheel, then sprang to the
engine room telegraph and signaled the engineer to stop. A
few seconds later there was a jar, a noise of
rending wood, and the Estoria struck the Merry Ellis a
glancing blow on her port quarter, carrying away a part
of her bullocks. At the same instant, Molly Ryan fell
off the Estoria's rail into the sea. Man overboard screamed
the steward, who had reached the spot, just a moment
too late to catch her. But it takes a long
time to stop a steamer going nearly twenty knots an hour,
and by the time the first boat was lowered, the
estoria was far beyond the spot where Molly went over Forately,
for Molly, when she came to the surface, half strangled,
her little hands struck something hard which floated. With the
strength of despair, she climbed upon it. It was the
part of the Mary Ellen's bulwarks that had been knocked
off in the collision. Still more fortunately for Molly, the
captain of the barque, rushing on deck and hearing the
cry man overboard, thought that those words came from some
one on his own vessel, and ordered one of his
boats lowered away. Groping in the blackness amid the tumbling waters,
the crew of this boat found Molly and took her
aboard the bark. What exclaimed the captain, only a kid,
Take her forward, some of you and see her looked after,
And having made sure that the bark was not seriously injured,
he returned to his cabin to sleep.
Speaker 2: Well.
Speaker 1: Handsome sat a long lean seaman with a pointed beard,
who looked for all the world like a Connecticut farmer.
What ye goin to do with yer wreckage? Now? Yo
got her thaw her out, said Hansome, as he was called,
carrying Molly into the galley. The sailors fell into a
general discussion as to how Molly should be treated, for
the poor little thing was quite unconscious and her clothes
were freezing on her. However, after a while she was
undressed properly and gently thawed out and put to bed.
The sailor called Hansom, mixed a warm drink and poured
it between her teeth. She gave a little gasp, opened
her eyes and gazed around. Oh, she muttered, there isn't
any Christmas tree after all, and with that she fainted
away again. The sailors looked at one another in solemn silence,
till finally one said, in a deep bass voice, Well,
if she ain't a huntin for trees on the southerly
end of the Grand Banks, well that's what she's a
lookin for. That's what she's a gun for to get,
said Handsome, slapping one huge fist into the other, and
then he and the other seamen sat down under the
foxhel lamp and conversed earnestly in low tones. After several
minutes of talk, they all arose, and Farmer Joe said, handsome,
you are considerable part. Win your part, but there's no
time to lose. We must get to work right away.
While these rough sailors were at work, little Molly passed
from a state of unconsciousness to one of sleep. The
big seamen took turns in watching over her. It was
not a pretty bedroom that Molly had that night. It
was dark and dingy and full of weird noises of
groaning timbers. A swinging lantern threw changeful shadows into all
the corners and showed some very rude bunks in which
several sailors off watch were trying to snatch a brief rest.
Just behind those bunks against the stout sides of the bark,
the seas burst in booming shocks and ever and anon.
There was a noise of falling water overhead, up and
away the boughs would soar and then plunge down again
with the sickening rush into the turmoil of foam. But
of course the sailors thought nothing of all these things.
The foxhel was their home, and they were long ago
hardened to its sights and sounds. In spite of everything,
Molly slept quite soundly, wrapped in a rough blanket with
a pea jacket spread over her shoulders, while Handsome and
the other sailors were at work with a boat hook,
some small pieces of wood, oakum, and green paint. Whatever
it was that they were making, it was strange enough
to look at, but their hearts were in their work,
and they conversed earnestly in low tones. At last it
was finished and set up in a bucket close against
the bulkhead, where the lantern shed its fitful light full
upon it. Very good, too, said Handsome, gazing at it.
But it won't do unless it's got something mount Wit
and those sailormen went rummaging in their chests, and as
they had been voyagers in all parts of the globe,
they brought forthsome curious toys to put upon the wondrous
Christmas tree which they had made. Handsome contributed three large
shells from the Indian Ocean, a dried mermaid and a
small Hindu god, which answered very well for a dolly.
Another produced a south African dagger, Chinese puzzle, and three
brass nose rings from a South Pacific island. Farmer Joe
brought out a stuffed marmoset, an Indian amulet, and a
tin type likeness of himself. A fourth sailor fished out
of his chest a beautiful India silk handkerchief and a
string of coral Handsome gravely hung them on the Christmas tree.
When all was done, he stepped back and studied the effect.
Very good too, he said, yes, said Farmer Joe, I
guess you couldn't it get any sitch tree as that
to helm. At six o'clock on Christmas more morning, Molly awoke.
It was still dark and the lantern's light was but dim.
The sailors were huddled back in the corner, farthest from
their wonderful Christmas tree, which was set up where the
child's eyes were most likely to fall on it as
soon as she sat up in her bunk. So when
Molly awoke, she did sit up and stare straight in
front of her with sleepy eyes, trying to collect her
thoughts and make out where she was. Gradually she became
conscious of the tree. Her eyes opened wider, and wider.
She almost ceased to breathe for a few moments. Then
suddenly she clapped her hands together and with a little
scream of delight, cried joyously, why it's a Christmas tree.
The sailors nudged one another, and Handsome could not restrain
a chuckle. Molly heard and looked around at them. A
puzzled expression came over her face, and she studied her
surroundings for a minute. Isn't that a Christmas tree? She asked,
That's what it is, cried English. And we also is
Santa Clauses, Oh, exclaimed Molly. What funny Santa Claus is?
I always thought there was only one well aboard this
ear bark, There is several, and oh, cried Molly, clapping
her hands and jumping out of the bunk. What a
lot of funny things I've got for my Christmas? I
never got much before, but I think I'd rather have
my father and mother please. And then she looked as
if she were about to cry. Don't go for to cry,
said Hansome. I'll sing you a song. You are a
nice Santa Claus, cried Molly, brightening up. And all the
rest of you, Santa clauses jine in with the chorus,
said Hansome, standing up and taking a hitch at his trousers,
And then he sang, how the cookies at the binnacle,
the captain's in the galley, and the may teas at
the fore top, with Sally in our alley, and the
steward's on the bob's day, and a fishin' hard for soul.
The winds up and down the masts. O, roll boys.
Speaker 2: Roll, roll boys, roll boys, never mind.
Speaker 1: The weather, no matter how the wind blows, we'll all
get there together. Oh, the captain couldn't steer a ship
because he was Alascar. The cook he had to show
the way from France to Madagascar. The ship she couldn't
carry sail because she had no riggin The crew they
had to live on clams twas very deep fer diggin'.
Speaker 2: Roll boys, roll boys. Never mind the weather, no matter
how the.
Speaker 1: Wind blows, We'll all get there together. The cook says,
let the anchors go. The crew says, we ain't got em.
The captain yells, then pack your trunks. We'll all go
to the bottom. The steward, O the lead sir, twas
three feet deep.
Speaker 2: No more so.
Speaker 1: Every mother's son of us got up an walked ashore.
Speaker 2: Roll boys, roll boys, never mind the weather, no matter
how the.
Speaker 1: Wind blows, we'll all get there together. The land was
full of cannibals, which made it interestin'. We told them
not to eat us fur we was such bad digestin.
The King comes down to see us, and he sports
a paper collar, and he says, if we'll clear out
o that, he'll give us half a dollar.
Speaker 2: Roll boys, roll boys, never mind the weather, no matter
how the wind blows, we'll all get there together.
Speaker 1: So we fells an inja rubber tree. An makes a
big canoe about the shape and pattern of a number
twenty shoe. The cook he draws a sextant, and the
captain draws his pistill. One shoots the sun, and one
the king, and off we goes for Bristol.
Speaker 2: Roll boys, roll boys, never mind the weather, no matter
how the wind.
Speaker 1: Blows, we'll all get there together. And now we're safe
ashore again. We're goin for to stay. There's grub to eat,
and grog for all, and wages good to pay. I'll
cross my legs upon a stool and never be a sailor.
I'd rather be a butcher, or a baker, or a tailor.
Roll boys, roll boys, never mind the weather, no matter
how the wind blows, We'll all get there together. At
the end of the song, all the seamen stood up,
joined hands, and danced around, roaring out what Handsome called
the correous in such tremendous voices that the captain, who
had come on deck, ran to the foxhel hatch to
see what was going on. He dropped down among his
men so suddenly that they all paused in silence, expecting
an outbreak of anger. But the captain slowly realized the
meaning of the scene upon which he had intruded, and said,
all right, lads, amuse her and take good care of her,
and when we get to New York, I'll make it
my business to find her father. He was as good
as his word, and in due time Molly was placed
in the arms of her parents, who had been mourning
her as dead. It was a joyous reunion, you may
be sure. But all the rest of her life Molly
remembered her strange Christmas Eve at sea, and her wonderful
Christmas tree, And of Molly Ryan's Christmas Eve by W. J.
Henderson