The Strange Disappearance of the Wharf Thief
A witness recounts the mysterious final moments of a man who stole a boat and seemingly vanished into thin air, leaving behind only a trail of questions.
The story, cleaned up
A cleaned-up reading of the newspaper page: spelling and layout repaired, one story lifted off a crowded page. It follows the original closely but it is not a transcription. The original page is below; read it if a detail matters.
Yesterday afternoon, while talking with Captain Quinn, he stated that barley grower (formerly mate of the steamer Sehome) had seen the man who stole the Tenax's small boat some three weeks ago, and who is now probably drowned. A reporter found Mr. Grouer, who said: 'Yes, I saw the man at the time he stole the boat, and I shall never forget him while I live. As I came down the wharf, he jumped aboard the Sehome. At first I thought he was talking to someone for nothing, but I will not be sure. He stepped over on to the schooner, where he deliberately picked up the oars, placed them in the small boat, let go the painter, and rowed away. I naturally supposed that he had a right to do what he did, as he went about it so calmly. He must have placed his luggage in the boat after he left the schooner, for he had nothing of that sort with him at that time. He was about five feet two inches high, 28 years of age, well dressed, in a suit of blue clothing, and had a black moustache. He carried a watch and chains, and had a sort of sickly look. At first I thought he was drunk, but changed my mind when I got a good look at him. My idea is that after taking the boat from the schooner, he put it to the wharf, where he loaded his baggage and set out for Victoria, and that he got into a tide rip and was thrown overboard. It seems to me that if you publish this description which I have given you, somebody will be enabled to identify the missing man.'
“He went about it so calmly. I naturally supposed that he had a right to do what he did.”
This 1887 account of a man vanishing in a small craft in Puget Sound highlights the eternal, precarious nature of life on the water in Seattle, where the boundary between a simple commute and a watery disappearance has long been thin.
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