THE PASSING OF MOGUL MACKENZIE

[Salty Dog]

Now and again through the Stygian gloom a torrent of sheet-lightning rolled
down across the heavens, bringing in its wake a moment of terrible light. It was
in one of these brief moments of illumination that the wan watchers at Hall's
Harbor discerned a long gray ship being swept like a specter before the winds
towards the Isle of Haut. Until the flash of lightning the doomed seamen
appeared to have been unconscious of their fast approaching fate; and then, as if
suddenly awakened, they sent a long thin trail of light, to wind itself far up into
the darkness. Again and again the rockets shot upward from her bow, while
above the noises of the tempest came the roar of a gun.

[Salty Dog]

The people on the shore looked at each other with blanched faces, speechless,
helpless. A lifetime by that shore had taught them the utter puniness of the sons
of men. Others would have tried to do something with what they thought was
their strong arm. But the fishermen knew too well that the Fundy's arm was
stronger. In silence they waited with bated breath while the awful moments
passed. Imperturbable they stood there, with their feet in the white foam and
their faces in the salt spray, and gazed at the curtain of the night, behind which a
tragedy was passing, as dark and dire as any in the annals of the sea.

Another flash of lightning, and there, dashing upon the iron rocks, was a great
ship, with all her sails set, and a cloud of lurid smoke trailing from her funnel.
She was gray-colored, with auxiliary power, and as her lines dawned upon those
who saw her in the moment of light, they burst out with one accord, "It's the
Kanawha! It's the Kanawha!" As if an answer to their sudden cry another gun
roared, and another shower of rockets shot up into the sky; and then all was lost
again in the darkness and the voices of the tempest.

[Salty Dog]

Next morning the winds had gone out with the tide, and when in the afternoon
the calm waters had risen, a boat put off from Hall's Harbor and rowed to the Isle
of Haut. For several hours the rocky shores were searched for some traces of the
wreck, but not a spar or splinter could be found. All about the bright waters
laughed, with naught but the sunbeams on their bosom, and not a shadow
remained from last night's sorrow on the sea.

So Mogul Mackenzie, who had lived a life of stress, passed out on the wings of
storm. In his end, as always, he baffled pursuit, and was sought but could not be
found. His sailings on the sea were in secret, and his last port in death was a
mystery. But, as has been already related, when the Northern Lights come down
across the haunted island, the distress signals of his pirate crew are still seen
shooting up into the night.