That Yankton

That which should accompany old age--honor--does not fall to those who go by too many aliases, like the steamship Yankton. She was offered at auction in New York; the highest bid was $2,700; the United States Marshall refused the price; and her sale was put over until another day.

Launched at Leeds in 1893, she was sold soon afterwards to become the private yacht of Sarah Bernhardt, who christened her Cleopatra. She was Sappho to her next owner, A. S. Barber, and Penelope later to H. E. Converse.

But the Yankton won her real fame as a United States gunboat. At the beginning of the Spanish-American War the Government bought her, and she received her baptism of fire from the Spanish batteries in Cuba. After the war she used to escort the fleet southward on its annual maneuvers or chase about protecting our interests in the revolution-burdened countries of South America. The Yankton led the way as guide boat when Admiral Evans took our fleet upon its famous cruise around the world. Her last official service was as a despatch boat in the World War.

When the Government sold her in 1919 she passed into the darkness of obscurity, if not of ignominy. A few weeks ago she crawled into New York harbor with a crew of starving Cubans, Mexicans and Negroes. She was stripped of all her wooden furnishings, which had been used as fuel to bring her in.

Customs officials found that she had been employed as a--rum runner. Her supercargo sold his alcoholic wars on rum row and decamped with the proceeds. For three weeks the Yankton had waited his return. Then with fuel and food exhausted she came into port and surrendered to her fate. She was offered at auction to pay the wages of the crew.