KATE WEATHERS;

OR,

SCATTERED BY THE TEMPEST.

A NOVEL.

By FRANK VAUGHAN.

PHILADELPHIA:
JB: LIPPINCOTT: & CO.
1878.

   
    
        
 

Copyright, 1878, by J. B. Liprrncorr & Co.

 

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CONTENTS.

CHAPTER
I.—A Leaf from the Record fi v . . .
II.—The Banker . < A “ ‘ . “ .
III.—The Messenger and her Message . : ‘ s
IV.—lIke tells of the Wreck inthe Ofing . . .

V.—Kate goes out into the Darkness to seek her Husband .

VI.—A Stranger asks Shelter for the Night . 4
VII.—Boarding the Ship > ° < a . .
VIII.—The Mutiny of Pedroand his Band. y :
IX.—Asleep in the Thicket . ;
X.—Gilsey Roe. ; : : .
XI.—The Fugitives reach a Strange Land.
XII.—Life in the Wilderness . 3 . é ‘
XIII.—The Campers play Havoe with their Neighbors .
XIV.—A Moonlight Excursion on Picture River .
XV.—Making New Acquaintances . ‘ ‘ . i
XVI-—Saved . : . : ‘ . . .
XVII.—The Babe welcomes its Mother . . : x

 

XVITI.—A Secret escapes from its Prison . i
XIX.—Lost in the Wilderness . ‘ "i ‘ r .
XX.—Precious Waifs ‘ ‘ P a P » “
XXI.—Fleeing, though not Pursued : . . :

XXII.—Opening Fire from the Masked Battery .
XXITI.—The Lookout at North End . ‘ 7 § Wy
XXIV.—The Ragged Philosopher. : 7 . ‘

XXV.—A Sociable Time at Lucifer’s House. . *
XXVI.—Asleep near the Island Shore a a . ‘

XXVII.—Spirits conversing ‘

XXVIII.—Socrates thinks that his Friend must be subject to

Fits of Insanity 7 . A 4 ‘ a
XXIX.—At the Head of the Lake. :
XXX.—Preparing to take the Overland Route .

PAGE

13
18
32
38
51
~ 65
76
86
99
106
122
133
143
153
160
167
173
181
191
205
215
226
232
248
264
272

280
292
297
 

4 CONTENTS.

CHAPTER
XXXI.—Peter Mashew ° ‘
XXXII.—Francois reads the Diary .
XXXIII.—Waiting for the Signals
XXXIV.—Icebergs
XXXV.—An Intruder ; ‘ ° .
XXXVI.—Hidden Things brought to Light
XXXVII.—A Lecture on Devils . PF ; : .
XXXVIII.—A Lecture on the Pear Theory . $ F

XL.—Skating on the Air : :
XLI.—Confusion in the Hut ° :
XLITI.—Changing Headquarters
XLIII.—A Fierce Attack
XLIV.—A Sick Man ;
XLV.—Homeward Bound

XXXIX.—Expedition in the Flying Comet to the South Pole :

PAGE
306
319
326
332
345
354
364
373
389
400
410
415
420
424
431

 

KATE WEATHERS;

OR,

SCATTERED BY THE TEMPEST.

 

CHAPTER I.
A LEAF FROM THE RECORD.

Nuarty the whole three hundred miles of North Carolina
sea-coast is a sterile reef of yellow sand, as destitute of vegeta-
tion in many places as the deserts of Arabia.

This reef is cut through at long intervals by “ inlets” that
make of it a chain of islands, some of which are as much as
forty miles long, and but little more than one mile wide at
any point.

These inlets afford passage-way in and out for vessels of
light draft, and through them the fresh waters of the broad
sounds and their tributaries flow out and mingle with the
briny floods of the deep.

The coast, owing to the fact that the greater part of it is
a low level, elevated but a few feet above high water, and
to the further fact that three great capes—Hatteras, Lookout,
and Fear—shoot out from it many miles into the ocean, is,

proverbially, a dangerous one.

Time was, when “ those who go down to the sea in ships,
and do business on the great waters,” trembled at approaching
it: and even now, in our day of light-houses, the mariner,

, .
while skirting along by it, keeps a sharp eye to his barometer,
continue in his view the

for he can but feel anxious while
great surging billows that are forever rolling and plunging

over the sunken capes. And though Fear and Lookout have
1* 5
 

 

6 KATE WEATHERS; OR,

been doubled in safety, aye, though Hatteras has been “sunk”
far astern, still he is in dread ; for, still away and away, before
him stretches the low reef, with not a prominent object upon
it, except that here and there, at great distances apart, little
hummocks of stunted live-oaks lift their green heads modestly
in the sunlight, and gleam like emeralds in a yellow belt. But
even the little hummocks are hid from the view when foul
weather comes on, except upon a too near approach to the
treacherous beach. And woe to that ship from distant lands
that has lost her reckoning, and is nearing these shores through
the gloom of night, when east winds are pressing and rolling
the great clouds of mist and fog from the Gulf Stream shore-
ward !

The inlets are by no means permanent and continuing.
Those terrible tempests that often sweep over the coast have
complete control of them. And the place where to-day is a
broad, deep channel, may in less time than a week be only an-
other part of the low, sandy level ; while, perhaps, miles away
a new channel as broad and as deep as the lost one will have
made its appearance.

And so, in the memory of living men, several of these pas-
sages that were broadest and deepest, and navigable by larger
class schooners and brigs, have filled in, and others at other
points have opened. Yet the channel generally continues long
enough to give name to its locality ; and the name so acquired
is never lost, even though the channel may cease to exist.
Thus Currituck Inlet, Old Inlet, Nagshead Inlet, and others,
are at this day only neighborhood names, for no inlet is nearer
than ten miles, or more, of any of them ; those that gave the
names having long ago filled in and disappeared.

Body’s Island is that section of the coast-reef which extends
from New Inlet to Nagshead,—the distance of about twenty
miles.

Owing to the fact that there is at present no inlet at Nags-
head, Body’s Island is no island at all; yet it continues to be
“ Body’s Island” on the charts, and the great light-house re-
cently erected nearly in the centre of it, whose cupola towers
two hundred feet above the plain, is laid down as “ Body’s
Island Light.”

The continuation of the coast from Nagshead northward is
known by the name of North Banks. Here the face of the

SCATTERED BY THE TEMPEST. 7

country differs somewhat from Body’s Island, and presents
a greater variety of scene. Here are ridges, and hills, and
thickets of stunted trees, matted and tangled, and tied together
by brier and bramble and the wild grape-vine ; and it is here,
in the midst of the densest jungles, that the “banker’s” rude
hut is hid.

These thickets, that are altogether on the Sound side of the
reef, are in some instances five or six miles long; and they,
with the clusters of ridges and hills that loom up here and
there, are notable landmarks, and well known to the passing
mariner. Many a time have they warned the ship away in
time to save precious life before the coming on of the storm;
and this accounts for the fact that there are fewer wrecks
here than are seattered over the flat plains of Body’s Island.

With the exception of the capes and the beach in their
immediate vicinity, Body's Island is not only the most sterile
and desolate, but it is also the most dangerous section of the
whole line of coast ; and of this it bears full proof upon its
face. What volumes of tragic history are written upon its
barren sands! What tales of horror are told by the great
bleaching skeletons of ships that lie grinning ghastly enough
in every direction around! For all along, from inlet to inlet,
the débris of ships, and brigs, and schooners, and other craft,
lie scattered about. Here is a long keel, with broken and
splintered ribs still firmly attached; here is a hatch, with its
rusty rings still in the diagonal corners. Here are parts of a
galley, the full frame of a yawl, sections of deck, with the
planks still securely bolted and rivetted to the beams. Here
are broken masts and spars, a quarter-deck entire, a cabin-
door, a forecastle hatch, a solitary stern-post standing erect,
the timbers to which it is attached being buried beneath the
sand. In another place are broken and battered gunwales, a
keelson, complete from stem to stern, with here and there a
few snaggy fragments of ribs, and parts of the decayed bends
bolted to them, and with the massive cut-water still firmly
holding its place. Yonder, high and dry upon the sand, is a
huge bark; her hull, which is almost entire, is bent and
twisted out of shape, and a portion of her deck is gone ; one
of her masts, with a couple of cross-spars upon it, is still
standing in its place, the others are gone ; the jib-boom is still
in place, and beneath it the mermaid figure-head, sadly dis-

Pee a ee
a catch

aati

|

 

8 KATE WEATHERS; OR,

figured by wind and wave and the pitiless hand of time.
Farther on still is a mammoth ship, careening over on her
side; she, also, has one entire mast, from whose cross-trees
several ends of bleached rope are dangling in the breeze. The
mizzen-mast has been cut away, for deep strokes of the axe
are marked upon its stump; not so the main-mast, whose
shivered stump shows that it was twisted and snapped off by
the whirling wind; the copper sheeting has been ripped from
the ship’s bottom as high as it could be reached, and of that
that remains the loosened corners are clanging against her at
every gust of wind. Not far from this ship are parts of the
old frame of another that came there long years ago: the
timbers are well hacked and chopped, and most of the copper
bolts and rods have been cut out of them and carried away.
Tn another place is the stern-end of a brig that seems to have
been snapped short off from the other end. The vessel was
probably broken while at sea, for the bow-end is nowhere to be
seen ; it may be that it was burst into fragments, and strewed
by the raging storm along the beach, or it may have been
swept miles away and stranded entire. This aft-end is about
thirty feet long, and sits upon an even keel that is deep
down in the sand; it is so entire and perfect that even the
lettering upon it may be made out,—* Dolphin, of Portland,
Maine.”

So, all along, the coast is wreck-strewed, and so are re-
corded the tempest’s deeds on the yellow sands of Body’s
Island.

That great ship, the fragments of whose skeleton lie deep
buried in the sand, sprang a-leak while in mid-ocean. Signals
of distress were hoisted to the mast-head. Officers, crew, and
passengers took their turn at the pumps, and worked and
labored day and night,—day after day and night after night,
—until all the provisions on board were consumed,—until the
last drop of fresh water had been drawn from the tanks and
drank,—until those earnest laborers had become faint and ex-
hausted. Still relief came not. Time after time the broad
circle of horizon was swept from the decks by the telescope ;

but naught was to be seen, not even a speck upon the great
eternity of ocean.

Deeper and deeper in the water she sank. Bales, boxes,

barrels, and crates were tumbled over into the sea. Still

 

:

 

SCATTERED BY THE TEMPEST. 9.

deeper and deeper she settled, and more and more sluggish
and unmanageable she became.

At last all hands took to the small boats and left the ship
to her fate; aye, left her to her fate, and went out to meet
theirs! To what point of the compass should they shape their
course? The wind breezed up fresher; the billows rolled
higher and higher, and began to reel about wildly and to toss
and tumble over with louder and louder roaring. One after
another the boats swamped,—all swamped but one. And
piteous were the cries as each went under with its living
freight. Piteous! but the sad wail ceased almost as soon as it
burst forth, and then, again, naught was heard except the
endless, ceaseless dirge of rolling, falling floods. Bravely that
last boat continued to ride on, bearing its three weary, starving,
famishing occupants. Three! pitiful remnant of forty-six !

Suddenly one of that. weary three drops his oar, snatches
the gleaming blade from the belt-sheath at his side, and
plunges it deep into the heart of the companion who has been
sitting there on the thwart before him and faintly laboring for
hours. ‘Two of the three oars are idle now—his that is mur-
dered, and the murderer’s. He that was stricken when in
the act of making a stroke with his oar has tumbled back-
wards into the bottom of the boat. And there he lies silent,
but staring wildly, while the red stream gushes and spurts at
every breath from the gaping wound, until, with a deep-drawn
sigh,—a spasm,—a quivering of the frame from head to foot,
he dies; and all the while he that struck stands looking won-
deringly on. He is a maniac!

One only oar is left, and he that labors with that must both
labor and defend himself against the fury of a madman. But
renewed strength is in his arm, for he fully realizes his terrible
predicament; and by speech, and warning gesture, and the
determined expression of his face he holds the madman at
bay—aye, holds him at bay who stands now in the extreme
bow-end of the boat, whither he has retreated, facing his
struggling shipmate, waving the bloody knife over and over
his own head (laughing immoderately as he does so), and
keeping his strangely glittering eyes fixed upon the poor tired

one who sits upon the aft thwart and has hard work to hold
his craft's bow to the heaving swell and guard against the
fury of his dreadful mate.
A*

 

 
  
 
  
 
  
  
  
    
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
  
 
  
  
 
 
  
  
       
   
   

10 KATE WEATHERS; OR,

A white speck twinkles like a star in the far horizon. It
grows larger and larger. A birk approaches. From her
cross-trees an hour ago the struggling boat was spied. He
that labors at the oar sees that speck, and well he knows what
it is. A thrill of glad hope warms his bosom, yet the ship
may pass on by and sink again beneath the horizon. Equal
for a time is the struggle in his bosom between hope and fear;
but larger and larger grows the speck, and hope is victor.
The maniac! he, too, has turned his eyes away; he, too, has
discovered the approaching ship, and has taken his mad
gaze from his trembling companion’s face. The hand that
holds the reeking knife has dropped, he has seated himself
upon the bow-thwart, and, with his elbows resting on the
windward gunwale and his head and body reaching forward
he has gazed and gazed and stared in wondering silence until
that little speck has grown into a great ship that speeds with
wings outspread before the breeze. Not gladness but terror
is depicted in his face as that ship draws near. “Hard a-lee!”
is heard. The bark rounds to. Her great spread wings roll
and rumble, and the loose halliards rattle upon them. The
maniac springs to his feet, plunges,—is lost from sight forever.

That fragment of the brig, with the faint lettering still upon
the stern, was gallantly ploughing along before the light breeze
bearing a rich freight of merchandise toward a distant port.
When she left the haven at home genial sunlight was stream-
ing over the land and waters, the skies were blue and beautiful,
birds were singing sweetly in the groves on shore, the wind
was light and fair, and the craft glided out of her harbor with
gay colors and long, starry pennant streaming from the mast-
head, amid the cheers and adieus of well-wishing friends. For
three whole days and nights her sails remained just as they
were when she glided out of port, and everything bade fair for
a happy and prosperous voyage. The steersman’s task was
light, and the crew had but little else to do than to cluster
about on deck and spin long yarns for one another, each
telling of his own adventures and of his many hair-breadth
escapes from a grave in the deep waters. And joud would be
the laugh when one would tell of a time when the tempest
came and swallowed up all but him; and how he clung to the
ring of a floating hatch, and was tossed and plunged about day
after day and night after night; and how at times he would

i ane ne tienen aan nee naenedlll

 
    
  
    
   
   
   
   
    

SCATTERED BY THE TEMPEST. it

succeed in drawing himself upon the hatch; and how, after a
minute’s rest upon it, hatch and man would be rolled over
and swallowed by the wave; and how he and his craft would
emerge again, when he would get another minute's rest; and
how, after long, weary days, a ship hove in sight and came on
and picked him up, starved and famished as he was, and
carried him away to a distant port; and how he again shipped
as soon as he could find a berth. So were the lazy hours
whiled away.

But suddenly, and without warning, on the morning of the
fourth day out, the white squall came. Seeming to descend
from mid-sky, and leaping into the cloud of snowy sails, it split
them in an instant of time into ten thousand ribbons. Nor
were only the sails destroyed, but masts and yards were shat-
tered into fragments and swept away.

As night came on, dismal clouds heaved up and curtained
the sky. The craft began to reel and tumble heavily in the
dreary waters. Three trusty men were lashed to the stanchions
near the tiller. Each one of the crew (who must now all be
on deck) made himself busy in preparing as well as possible
for his own safety, by fastening one end of a rope around his
body, under his arms, and making the other end secure to a
ring or cleat or gunwale, so that if he should be washed from
the decks he might be able to haul himself back on board.
Then, after all this was done, each reported himself, in a loud
voice, to the officers and steersmen as being ready to perform,
so far as it might be in his power to do so, their orders. Con-
tinually the billows were rearing higher and higher, until
they became great grim mountains rolling and chasing one
another away into the thick gloom. For hours the trusty
three were able to keep her luffed so as to ride the seas; but
the task was a difficult one even for three strong, brave men
to perform. At times, in spite of all they could do, great
billows would come bounding and crashing on deck,—bound-
ing, crashing; then the rushing flood would sweep the decks
from stem to stern, roaring and foaming as they went.

Still the helpless craft reels and plunges on. Little service
now does the tiny sail on the jury-mast ; little good do those
who are lashed to the stanchions, for the rudder seems to have
lost its power; and little do those men on the decks but to
hold with all the energy of hardy manhood to the ropes and

 

 

caste
 

 

 

\

12 KATE WEATHERS; OR,

to whatever else their hands may clutch ; for the battle is now
for life, and bravely it must be fought.

At last morning dawns. The storm has lulled away, but the
sea is raging still. The clouds are breaking up and melting
from the blue sky. The sun leaps up from his briny bed, and
his first crimson rays fall upon the ghastly faces of those trusty
three at the tiller,—those brave three who are now cold in
death,—drowned in the floods that for hours past have been
deluging the decks. And where are the crew ? All, all gone !
Not one is left. The ropes, that fora while did good service, could
not bear the strains of the continually repeated bursting of the
seas upon deck, and the continual sweeping off of those they

~ held bound. They were snapped at last; and some of those
brave ones are now miles and miles away to the leeward, the
fragments of rope still securely tied around their bodies,
sweeping and plunging with the billows.

Near by the prow is one, the last that submitted to the con-
queror. He is dancing a death-dance ; wildly, madly dancing,
leaping, plunging! Now shooting above the surface head
foremost or feet foremost, now gyrating in some quick mael-
strom that forms and fills in a minute of time, now rapidly
spinning over and over, now darting up to the very apex of a
great billow whose boiling foam is as white as an Alpine knob,
and now avalanching head foremost down deep into the green
brine beneath.

Still the wreck floats. Still she goes reeling and plunging
towards the beach which is now not far distant. The tide is
at flood, and the fierce east winds have raised the sea far above
the usual high-water line. She passes over the outer ‘reef,
scarcely touching it with her keel. In a little time she
reaches the inner reef, where she grounds ; but billow follows
billow, each one of which lifts her farther on, each dashing
high a cloud of spray, each folding her in glittering sheets as
it goes arching high above her decks.

The craft has a stanch hull, but the many terrible thumps
she receives as each swell runs from under her and drops her
bodily on the hard reef are more than she can bear. She
wears around with her bow towards the shore, and then a
mountain sea takes her up and hurls her down again, when,
as if she were as brittle as glass, she snaps asunder, the heavier
stern-end continuing to creep nearer and nearer shoreward,

SEE ESE REpeNNRITN

SCATTERED BY THE TEMPEST. 13

while the lighter bow-end eddies and waltzes pn Page _
strong current that is pouring through the sloug
By gladly that wreck and her rich in orate
comed to the beach by the swarm of rude th le * . - —
upon the shore! and how little are they thin ef er
brave three, whose heads are now bowed low, an :

: Ra eek
limber bodies hang to the stanchions !
And this is but a page of the sad record of the tempest's

deeds ; a mere line of what is written upon ~ pars 80
of Body’s Island; a page that was written a ago.
May there never another such be written there ! ve ity
for the light-house, and for the life-saving ae -
coast telegraph ; and thank God. for sei ore oe
the present day, who is ever ready, if ae i

life that he may save that of a fellow-creature !

 

CHAPTER IL.
THE BANKER.

So completely is the North Banker's | hut it ge ber
covered by the foliage of the thicket, that it yorker died: Pn
all except by ascending to the tops of the neig? a oso
and looking down into the valley upon it, or “ey to its very
narrow paths that wind along through the June uaee tar:
door. ‘There are good reasons, too, for its yrs lain ua
for if it were placed upon the naked sands 0 : - ee
occupant would not only be continually _— ee euaane
moded by the drifts, but, in a few years at — tant te ~
would be buried beneath them. Again, ft - ee a
thicket it is protected, to a considerable extent, fro

the coast.

i at so frequently sweep over - :
bg ep rb said i may, it cannot remain long i
will eg long before the very valley in which it a Bens
have disappeared. Every breeze from ocean sweeps g

i sen woods will be known
drifts soundward, and ere ng oe gree

 
 

 

14 KATE WEATHERS 7 OR,

no more—the great yellow ridge that will have rolled upon
it will only mark its grave.

~ The North Banker is neither farmer nor florist. Not only

his calling, but his taste as well, is in another direction. He
could not be a farmer if he would, for his territory is desert.
He would not be if he could, for the invitations to engage in a
life of continual excitement are so many and so pressing that
it would be out of his power to resist them even if it were his
desire to do so. Life and activity are about him on every
hand. Everything near him is motion. The ocean, forever
rolling, forever moaning as its waves come and fall on the
shore. The myriad dwellers in the deep, forever changing
place. The winds are seldom at rest; fleets of white-winged
canoes are ever seen gliding here and there over the sounds ;
ships rise up to view in the far offing,—they creep slowly
and slowly along by, then sink beneath the horizon ; other
ships arise, pass on, and sink. All that he sees is moving,
and he cannot plod.

‘The plough, the spade, and the hoe would be but awkwardly
handled by him. To him the ox and the horse would be next
to useless, for few of the pursuits of other men are his. But
how skilfully he manages his boat! With what ease his
strong arm lifts the mast, and how nimbly his horny fingers
perform the work they have to do! In his boat he is captain,

‘mate, cook.—crew. He ships the rudder, sprits the mainsail,
raises the jib, sets the topsail, draws the anchor, shoves down
the centre-board, slips the tiller in place,—and all in a twink-
ling; then he shifts. the ballast, trims the sails, cleats the
sheets,—and away! How rapidly and precisely it is all done ;
and yet how smoothly, how well it is done |

The North Banker is an autocrat, a despot, a ruler of
boundless power in his little empire,—himself subject to no
man. His throne is the aft seat in his boat ; upon it he sits
and reigns. His dotninion is over the broad waters; and no
one arises to question his right. He is a lord upon the barren
reef as well as upon the water; all around him is his by
right, and he moves his residence from place to place in the

valleys at will; nor does he deign to consult another before
doing so, for he is lord paramount. Like the wind, he is free,
and he goeth whithersoever he listeth. He goes and he re-

turns as his own lordly mind may will. When he sets out

OD cc

EEE Sa

a

lective

 

SCATTERED BY THE TEMPEST. 15

upon a voyage, it matters not to him whether the —-
bright and pleasant, or foul and etd. oe =~ babe“!
e inds avorable or adverse,—
vhether the winds be favorable : I ' a
hea and sing before the gentle breeze, or billows range
dein heave and groan. He never _— ee her a
‘ is jour-
i buffets and labors to the end of
ae ga Sasi x he bow, and is sure to
i he looks over the bow,
ney. In either case | ene
i ch he set out before resting ; i
reach the point for which he set ot on, of
reaching Einat point, when he wills, ae
5 _ % . ;
is quick i the coming wreck. Thoug
eye is quick to glimpse ikea hes eae
torm be dashing hig Ys
she may be, and though the s een ee
- and he can say for a certainty
Sard win hether she be loaded,
rigged ‘ he has lost, or whe )
et ae where she will beach.
logged, or light,—nor only so, but oped aty es coe
Without a barometer, he will a you r = oo =
oin C
weather, and when, and to what p 2
i i ay learn whether
wind will veer next. From him you m a
i ight; and, when the tempest comes
morrow will be drear or bright ;_ and,
on, it is not often that he will fail to number for you the hours
?
f its staying. ; rs :
, His family is his tribe: he is not only ~_ a fo

i superi ‘yom his storehouse, the greg
their acknowledged superior. From my eee

: is i ill: that storehouse is plenti
deep, he draws his supplies at wi ‘
fully filled; but his needs being eres and his wants modest,
they are easily and speedily supplied.

a a ode si North Banker is a freeman,—a sqaure:
indeed; one that is untrammelled ; one that is in oo me
bound down by precedent, nor hampered by — ma _ phe
Himself a despot and subject to no earthly ain,
the theory that all men are created free and — Og

But the low grovelling heart of humanity _ reeastee
in the banker’s bosom as it does in the bosom o ~~ oo
His disposition to reign, and aor — Prentie:

Q im at times,
which he regards as wealth, leads
are led, to violate the golden rule of on? ea ee

But how far the banker of to-day is advance ne y ste
point occupied by his ancestors of a ig Mh nee ie ave

redecessors, though, were beset by agg a Se
of. The sea-coast in their old day was almos 7 oo

ale of civilization ; therefore the same — agai
anaiad them that operate upon their descendants 0 p

 
 

16 KATE WEATHERS; OR,

day. The law had no terrors for them, for the law was not
for them. Who was there away out on that isolated land to
testify of misdeeds? Who, at a place so remote, so seldom
visited by strangers, and where churches and school-houses
were absolutely unknown, that really knew what rieht was, or
ea page was wrong? Ah, it would be neither right nor
‘ ho . a . ‘i
heel ab es — old-time banker hastily or harshly, however
The banker of old was a king, far more absolute in his swa
than his descendant of to-day. He regarded the tempest “a
his friendly fairy; and all that was “ flotsam, jetsam, and
ligan,” that happened to come within the range of his vision
he considered to be his of right. Corpses, it is true might
strew the beach, but these were accidents in which he had not
interest ; and he gave himself no more concern about them
than if they had been bubbles blown up from the frothing
brine. 3
_ His disposition to rule and tyrannize was sinking him con-
tinually into deeper and deeper darkness. In his ignorance
he was fierce and inhospitable,—more fierce and inhospitable
it may be than other men. Being an absolute sovereign upon
his own territory, and long accustomed to reign undisturbed
he regarded the coming of a stranger with suspicion, and was
sure to treat him as an intruder whose aims and desicns might
be to usurp some of his prerogatives. Z >
But old things have passed away. Christianity and science
have blended their powers and besieged the strongholds of
ignorance, and the result is that the banker of to-day may
stand upon his native hills and see extending away up and
down the coast the wires of the telegraph, ready to flash from
the outside world intelligence of the coming of the storm,—
ready to call in assistance from the outside world that ma
save the precious lives of those who are in the battered ane
dismantled ship that rolls and plunges in the offing, struggling
to keep away until light from the star of hope may be seen
gleaming through the gloom. He may see here and there
along the bald reef life-saving stations, each with its brave
crews and its appliances for assisting and saving the distressed
and unfortunate, and its scarlet signals floating on high to
warn away the ship before the coming on of the tem ;
1 2 pest.
And he may see -great light-houses steepling high above the

SCATTERED BY THE TEMPEST. 17

plain, that nightly throw their gleaming ray far out in ocean
to guide the mariner aright and keep him in the true line of
his course, though starless be the skies and drear the waters.

Now, over that region, that seemed once to have the curse of

the Creator expressed in its darkness,—that region of desolate
barrenness whose sands are closely written over with the record
of horrible tragedies that have been enacted upon them,—even
over a region so drear and gloomy, Christianity and science
have spread forth their wings of light. With their united
powers they have attacked and driven back one after another
the demons of darkness, whose grim shadows kept ever con-
cealed from the banker of old the paradise of peace.

The scenes that present themselves to the eyes of him who,
at the sunsetting of a clear, calm summer's day, stands upon
the summit of Jockey Ridge, are passing beautiful and glorious.
Away north and away south, as far as eye can reach, extends
the yellow thread of the coast,—that wonderful embankment
thrown up by the hand of nature, separating sound from sea :
on one side are ever heard the monotonous groanings of swells
bursting upon the hard, smooth beach ; and on the other, the
murmuring music of rippling waves : on one side of which are
seen the far wastes of billowy green, with sky horizon for
their boundary; and on the other, Albemarle’s quiet, blue
waters, tinged and tinted with the hues of cloud and sky,
reaching away to the threadlike are of the western shore, and
Roanoke Island, like a green oasis, in the midst ; its picturesque
shores dwindling away southward in the dim distance.

Midway between the northern and southern points of the
island, and almost directly opposite that part of the coast where
Nagshead Inlet once was, Shallowbag Bay is seen scooping with
graceful curve, between Ballast and Sandy Points, a mile back
into the heart of the green island.

Nor are these scenes wanting in historic interest. It was
through the old Nagshead Inlet that Arthur Barlow and Philip
Amidas, Sir Walter Raleigh's captains, passed in their quaint
little ships in July a.p. 1584: it was near Ballast Point that
these*explorers of the old time first dropped anchor, after a
tedious voyage of many months across the deep. It was on
the shores of Shallowbag Bay that the rude savages who in-
habited the island gathered in crowds to gaze upon the great
white-winged creatures that rode at anchor in the channel, and

2%

 

 
 

 

18 KATE WEATHERS; OR,

to wonder in astonishment at the strange beings that moved about
upon them: it was at that very place that the ships of Captain
Ralph Lane, one year afterwards (namely in July, a.p. 1585),
landed those one hundred and eight English emigrants, who had,
at home in the distant land, listened to the wonderful stories that
"were told to them of the New World: of its wild but peaceful
people; of its crystal rivers, that purled along over beds of
glittering gold, and of its grand forests and wastes of gorgeous
flowers: it was near the head of that bay that, in the same year,
the first American of English parentage—Virginia Dare—was
born : it was near the North End, three miles north of the bay,
where those one hundred and eight afterwards erected a fort
as a protection for themselves and their little property from
the savages, whom they had in some manner offended: and it
was opposite that little fort, the remains of which are still to
be seen, that Drake, in 1587, anchored his ships, and took on
board those that remained of the sadly-disappointed emigrants,
and their little American addition, and sailed back with them
to their native land.

And would that history had nothing more sorrowful to re-
late of occurrences at Roanoke Island ! There, in February,
1862, the booming of artillery and the rattle of musketry were
heard: then came death and ruin swooping by, and the dark
shadows of their outspread wings fell drearily enough upon the
fair island. Then poured plentifully out upon the sands the
warm heart’s blood of contending brothers; there fell brave
Selden, gallant Wise, and a host of others,—there were closed
in death the eyes of a brave host. Peace to the fallen heroes !

 

CHAPTER IIT.
THE MESSENGER AND HER MESSAGE.

SEPTEMBER the eleventh, a.p. 1789, was one of those chill,
dreary days that are not unfrequently experienced in mid-
autumn at the sea-coast.

Two days before, the wind had backed from southwest to
southeast, and then to northeast, where it settled, and from

SCATTERED BY THE TEMPEST. 19

which point it had since continued to blow, _ increasing in
violence, and with no prospect yet of lull or ¢ as ae
The wind struck the coast in the region of Nags - — ,
line so nearly perpendicular to it that the great er ¥ “
billows—each rank miles and miles long, and exten “Ae
far up and as far down as eye could reach—came ia, poe oe
lowing another, squarely upon the beach. The ee ae
most at its height. The billows came, — ig a =
heads,—foaming and tumbling over on the hard san ‘Gees
ing and booming : crash following crash, and_boom - - ne
boom at regular intervals, as if the tempest furies were beating
i ir wild music. :
pay cor came the floods driving in, that ae woes
and channels were cut out all along parallel with the shore, an .
between it and the reefs; and through these the wild wre _
rushing impetuously to the southward, Each post ~ sig
bursting, would shoot suddenly up to a great height, an 8
instant stand there like a green wall lining the shore. ; ~—
gradually its crest would lean farther and farther = at a
shoreward, until it would give way and pour forwar 1 roaring
with louder and louder roar, until the whole grand yaks
had fallen and left a place for its near successor to ne and
stand, then tumble forward with crash and roar as it = ‘ nie
and, at the bursting of each sea, clouds of spray = f ——
high in air, then stream off with the wind across ¢ ——s :
From early morning purplish clouds had been — ry
the far sea and scudding in, and on over the “— i Fs
still, until they had settled down into a dark —_ _ pete
the distant mainland. Later in the day the whole s fe —
overcast with a dull, = wnt — posi
flect its gloom on land and sea, and to rende aplaryr ire
as that were desolate enough before; and wi
Pe rr ga foretold that the tempest was to be an unusually

i i at hand.
y e, and that its climax was near a ,
Baal pa low stools near the feeble blaze that flickered up

from the few half-rotten sticks that me tampered on

i sathers’s hut were t ,
fireplace in Stam Weathers’s ; ‘

Te of ce were engaged in earnest eee ey" oe

third and youngest of them, who sat with her we at

the jamb at one end of the hearth, was busily engage! =

ing oa net. Upon an old chest near the open door a strongly

fo}
 

20 KATE WEATHERS; OR,

buil ; ;
" s nd i Ea et a apparently about forty years of
ge, g, holding awkwardly enough in his
_ L v n his great rou
- : opted baby, whose little weazen face told plants Pe
a taken a strong hold upon it. On the ch
the man’s side sat i ‘ syle wage
Sane wien ce Ae girl about fourteen years old, who was
peering wit et, earnest ga or hi i
ing infant’s cadaverous face. Mae Sat cd
Bia ge ah gece with the manners of the North Banker
te Se e Ripa and habits of life, upon peeping into
ae Beceaten t ee _ would have been struck with the
: of the house, its furnit i
i age 2 » its ure, and its occupants.
re ee was built of round logs and roofed
soot ia gee ache lea bsg ome were open spaces, in many
piaces or the hand and wrist to b
ough fo ! ist to be thrust, and
oa ye sara ee for the skylight ; the
imne} eight of six feet from the gr
: ; g ‘om the ground, was
oe : ay logs notched together and lined on the her
xine ‘er Patan d mud; then it was continued on up
2 log frame by three headless barrel
oe secede rake? \ arrels, one on another
aching a few inches ab i
dt seria ia ga fe es above the ridge-pole of
: was of thick planks that h pen Ti
' of A ad been ri
ne ae vas of some wreck; and the four or five pm
een ys ed a = had been cut from the thicket and
eir bark,—these were so | ‘
nen a ged walk erect beneath them ee
ca oe consisted of the three stools upon which the
oe, - eFpe aforesaid, and a bunk with its scant
hg Af “ more, unless the few cooking utensils that
ad a place near one cor r icht '
Pose a e corner of the hearth might be ranked as
ae dress and general appearance of the occupants were in
ain with the house and its furniture. The wome
ki brs esa shoeless, stockingless ; their hair was twisted
iota 7 rare that were carried up and in some manner
— ri on crowns of their heads, and their scant and
ae et ‘a cut and made without regard to beauty
— ited s. e “olen and girl who sat upon the chest were
ood a etn es € wore neither coat nor vest, and his
oe ate He go -Well-patched pantaloons were held in place
ita "y suspenders that were crossed on the back
red flannel shirt. Fully one-half of his face

 

np ge teenies

SCATTERED BY THE TEMPEST. 21

and neck were concealed by his long blowzy hair and shagg
whiskers, neither of which had the appearance of ever having

been touched with comb or brush. The girl was clad with a
lank frock buttoned on the back with

her lustreless hair hung straggling
oulders, and her broad feet and

yellow ankles looked as +f neither shoes nor stockings had ever
been upon them. But most uncouth of all was the baby’s
appearance,—its little frock was only relieved of its pillow-slip
straightness by a band at the neck, and a few puckers and
gathers around the body immediately under the arms ; and a
skillet-shaped cap of dingy red flannel fitted closely upon its
scurfy head, and extended far enough down to half cover its
ears and forehead.

Such were Stam Weathers and his family; and such was
their mode of living. Nor were they eccentric exceptions to
the rule; for, follow the winding paths that lead through the
thicket to the residences of other North Bankers, and it will
be seen that Stam’s ways are the ways of other dwellers on
the coast.

Though similar in every respect the garb and personal
adornment of the three women in the hut, yet in many respects
three persons more unlike were never seen.

The two who sat at opposite ends of the hearth—the one
1 needle and weaving mesh after

plying rapidly the long wooder
mesh upon the block that she held in her left hand, the other
crouching forward, resting her sharp chin in the palms of her
hands and her elbows on her knees, and holding the short stem
of the pipe that she was smoking firmly clinched between her
snaggy teeth—were Kate and Nancy Weathers, the wife and
mother of Stam; the third, who sat immediately in front of
the fireplace, was Peggy Strubl, a visitor, who had but re-
cently come in, and without ceremony or invitation seated her-
self there, nearly between the two, and forthwith, in a coarse
masculine voice, entered into conversation with Nancy ; not
even offering neighborly greeting toa soul present, or in any
manner recognizing the existence of any one except her to

whom she was speaking.

The sharply-pointed face of old Nancy Weathers was of
that malignant type that fails never to suggest distress and
misery to the beholder,—one above which hangs evermore a

single garment,—a short
four great brass buttons ;
down over her neck and sh

 

 

iii tai tinct tis

aan iin testa
 

22 KATE WEATHERS; OR,

dark cloud that ceases not to discharge its burning bolts of
venom while there is an object within reach upon which they
may fall,—one upon which the light of peace is never, even
for an instant, seen to beam,—while Kate's was one of those
pleasantly modest and womanly faces that can but shine forth
even in the absence of fair apparel and the studied adornment
of the person: hers was one of those faces that tell of a loving
and kindly nature.

Not once since the entry of the visitor had Kate opened her
mouth to speak; yet it was not difficult to see that she heard
every word that was being said by the others; nor only so, but
the nervous movements of her nimble fingers, her pausing and
gazing an instant at the speakers at times, the tremor upon
her purple lips, and the quick shadows of fear and anxiety
that came to dim the light of her eyes and darken the features
of her gentle face, told plainly enough how deep an interest
she felt in the subject of their conversation,

“Tf that’s all you've come to tell,” said Nancy Weathers, as

“she took her pipe from her mouth and turned her scowling
face full towards that of the visitor, “you'd as well stayed
where you was, for I knowed that as well as you. Ain’t I been
all day long goin’ up and down the beach, and to the top of
one hill, and then to the top of another, lookin’ out into the
offin’, and strainin’ my eyes a’most out 0’ my head, to catch a
glimpse of somethin’? and ain’t my eyes about as good as
yourn? I know there ain’t nothing there as well as you do,
for if there had been I should a seed it if it hadn’t been no
bigger'n a porpuss. Fact is, things ain’t like they usea to be
in times gone, no way ; and, for the good they does, storms had
about as well not come as to come. A blow like this, thirty or
forty year ago, would have had three or four craft, if no more,
high and‘dry ; and then there’d been things enough strowed
up and down the beach to keep one pickin’ up, first and last,
awhole month. Here’s the wind been blowin’ a gale two days,
and plumb on to the land at that, and nothin’ yet. It wouldn’t
been that way in times gone! I know well enough that the
ship that that gir come from ain’t far out,—anybody knows
it,—but that ship ain't comin’ here, see if she does. Things
didn’t work that way in times gone: but nowadays, for the
good they does, storms and calms is all one.”

“ Who knows but the ship’s gone under?” said Peggy Strubl ;

SCATTERED BY THE TEMPEST. 23

“and if she’s done that, how could she get here? Crafts has
heavy freights sometimes, as well as light ; and, spettgen ie
know, this one was loaded with rock or brick. T grt jus
the way of it, too, like as any way; and maybe them t 3 was
aboard, seein’ that she was about to sink, took their chances
to git ashore in the gig. But, then, talkin’ about sich things
as that ain’t what I’ve come for: Jim sent me here to see
St; a
F «To see Stam! What does he want with Stam? :

“To see me?” asked Stam, as he raised his eyes from the
baby’s face and turned them inquiringly towards the woman.
“ What does Jim Beam want with me?” ; me

“ Well, now, there’s no use lookin’ so sharkish about it,
said Peggy ; “he sent me, and I’ve told you so; but if ga
all you wart to know about it, why, let it drop right there, an
T'll go back and tell him.” : ins

“ And so,” growled Nancy, “ Jim and Pete s home, nussin
the fire, too, is they? I was thinkin’ that Stam Weathers was
about the only man on North Banks that stayed home sich a
time as this, to nuss fires and tote babies about, instead of
bein’ out on the beach on the watch for what mought be seen.
Sich as that wasn’t the ways of men in times gone. Ea

“ Maybe you'd as well keep your mouth shut a spell, said
Peggy, turning fiercely towards the hag. “ You d find out
more, I’m thinkin’, by doin’ that, and listenin’ till it shoals
come your time to put in. What’s anybody said to you? It’s
with Stam that I’m come to talk now, and not you; and

then, what business is it of yourn whether Jim and Pete goes
out or stays in? But, as to that, they has been out —
since long before daylight this mornin’, and has just got bac
”
arg er is it they want with me ?” asked Stam, again.

“ Well, it’s about this way,” said Peggy: “Jim and Pete
started up the beach long before daybreak, and by -_ ~
they got off aginst Kill-Devils it was light enough for t = 0)
see, soon as it was, that somebody was ahead of ’em. cs
ever it was, was standin’ close down to’ the surf. Preams y
he looks and sees Jim and Pete comin’, and off he —_
across the sand towards the thicket; then J im and Pete ra
ries on to the place where he had been standin , and there rare
the gig, that looked as though she had just beached. Pete

od)

 
 

24 KATE WEATHERS; OR,

starts off on a run, then, following after the man; but it was
too late, for he had got into the thicket and gone; and it was .
too dark yet to see him in there, even if he had happened to
come up near to him.”

“ Well,” said Nancy, rising nervously to her feet, “ what of
all that? Had the man got anything out of the gig and gone
with it?”

Peggy scowled contemptuously at the questioner, and, with-
out replying to her question, continued: “ So, you see, some-
body’s got somethin’ out o’ that gig that was worth more than
the gig, that was left behind for another ; and it’s knowed who
that somebody is !”

“T see now!” said Nancy. “Like as any way it was a
bagfull of gold that was brought from the ship; a bagfull
of gold!” ‘

“Let that be what it mought,” said Peggy, “it was worth
more than’ the boat that was left behind. But it wasn’t no
bag: as the man pitched into the thicket, Pete seed that it was
a little box that he was huggin’ up to his breast with both
arms.”

“Tt was a bow-full of gold,” said Nancy; “and it’s
knowed who got it? Why didn't Jim and Pete foller on?
They mought a come up by him and got it, after a spell.”

“ Why ?—Why ?—Why didn’t Jim and Pete foller and

catch the man and take the box from him?” said Peggy, ina

towering passion at being so often interrupted by the imperti-
nent questioner. “The why, fool ! is, because it was Ike Drew
that had it!”

“ But what's all that to me?” said Stam. “Does Jim and
Pete want me to go and take the box from Ike ?”

“ Here’s what they want,” said Peggy: “they’ve made it
up to set for Ike to-night and kill him 1”

“And that’s the only way it can ever be got from Ike
Drew!” said Nancy. “ He'll never give it up as long as his
heart beats |”

“You see, Stam,” said Peggy, “Ike knowed that if he
should stand, it would be him aginst two ; and that warn’t all,
for he didn’t want it to be knowed what he had. I know how
it is as well as if I had been there and seen it: when he got
well back into the thicket, he picks out his place and buries
the box, aimin’ to go back there to-night and get it; and

ae

SCATTERED BY THE TEMPEST. 25

when all that’s done, here he goes back to the beach empty-
handed,—that’s so; for it ain’t long before here comes Ike,
sure ’nough, up to the gig where Jim and Pete is, makin
b’lieve he hadn’t seen her before. But they didn’t let on, for
they warn’t the ones to be fooled that way. Now, what they’re
goin’ to do is to set to-night in the path that passes around
close to the foot of Kill-Devils, and take him as he comes
along. - And they’re willin’, Stam, to let you in for a chance,
providin’ you helps: and that’s what I’ve come to tell you.

“Tell ’em he'll be one with ’em!” said Nancy. “ He'll be
there! Ha, Stam, that Ike Drew’s a devil; and you've got
to watch him close, or you won’t git nothin’, and, besides,
you'll be the one to be toted back, and not him. Gold? a box
full of gold ?—he’ll be there! No, there ain’t but one way
to git that box from Ike Drew. But he'll be there, Peggy !”

“ Gold ?”” screamed Kate, in a frightened tone, as she dropped
the net from her hand and sprang excitedly to her feet: “ gold?
—but one way to git it? Maybe it atn’t gold. No, no, it
ain’t gold! How could gold git from the ship to the beach ?
gold’s heavy,—¢ can’t float! It ain’t gold,—I know it ain’t
gold !”

No sooner had Kate uttered the first word than all eyes were
turned toward her. Never before had she dared to express an
opinion in opposition to that of Nancy. And now so great
was the astonishment of the grim tyrant at the presumption,
of her whom shé had ever held in the most abject bondage,
that, for a time, she could only sit and stare with wild, protrud.
ing eyes at the terrified offender,—aye, terrified, though while
she spoke her eyes were fixed upon the demon face before her.

“ And how comes it that you know so much ?” said Nancy,
as she rushed forward and dealt a blow upon the offender's
head that sent her reeling back upon the stool from which she
had arisen. “JZ know it ¢s gold!” :

“ Devil !” said Stam, rising from the chest and advancing to-
ward his mother, “I’ve seen enough of sich doin’s as this, and

. . pm
it’s got to stop,—it’s got to stop here!
«Has it?” said Nancy, fiercely; “then larn her, Stam

Weathers, to keep her mouth shut !” ‘
The visitor, who had not once arisen from her seat, at seeing
this burst forth in a loud, hoarse laugh. Such scenes were too

familiar with her to carry terror with them; but, on the con-
3
B

eli italia

 

por
 

 

 

26 KATE WEATHERS; OR,

trary, their effect was to excite hor vulgar merriment to the
highest pitch.

“ Nothin’ like spunk, Nancy,” she said ; “ matters not what
the odds is, stand up to it; but then, Stam, you'd better let
me have that little monkey you’ve got there in your arms till
you gits through, for he’ll be in your way when the old gal
gits to clawin’ ,sure ’nough.”

Stam, in his passionate excitement, had forgotten that he held
the child in his arms; and the instant mention was made of
it his eyes were turned toward its pale face: that instant his
resolution changed, and he turned and went back toward the
chest. For a time he stood there as if undecided what to do.
“Here, Kate,” he said, at last, “take this youngun ; for [
can’t stay here no longer, or worse’ll come. It’s best I
should go away.”

Kate raised her head from her knees where it had been
resting and looked vacantly toward her husband, as if she had
not fully understood his words.

“Come, Kate,” Stam repeated, in a gentler and somewhat
sorrowful tone, “take him, for I must be off.”

She arose and went; for then she understood,—then she
realized that her husband’s intention was to go and leave her
there with those whose delight would be to mock at her dis-
tress; but, as she received the child into her arms, she whis-
pered, “ Don’t go!”

“What shall I tell Jim ?” asked the visitor, as she rose and
turned toward the door as if about to depart.

“ Why, tell him,” said Nancy, again answering for her son,
“that he'll be there. It’s time, Stam, to be gittin’ ready, too,
for it’s duskish now ; and night ain’t long comin’ on after it
starts, sich a day as this. Tell him Stam’ll be there soon as
he gits his gun loaded, and can walk from here there.”

Stam seemed not to have heard a word that his mother had
spoken, for no sooner had he placed the baby into Kate’s arms
than it groaned deeply and became restless, as if it were about
to awake. He had been standing there gazing earnestly and
feelingly down into its face, and was now only waiting for it
to become quiet before taking his departure. But the child
became continually more restless, and it showed from the con-
tortions of its face that it was suffering intense pain. He
reached out his arms and received it again, and began walking

SCATTERED BY THE TEMPEST. 27

with it back and forth across the floor. In a little while it
closed its languid eyes and again dropped off to sleep.
“ What shall I tell Jim?” asked Peggy again.
goin’ to take chances with him and Pete, or not ? i
Stam paused, and looked into the questioner’s face.
him,” he said, “ if two like them ain’t enough to take one on e
Ike, they'd better give the bizness up, for they are cowards,
and only wants another to do their ugly work for em. ca
“Then they'll go without you,” said Peggy. But any foo
ought to know that two’s better than one, and three’s better
than two, for sich work. Ike's a supple feller, and it ain’t goin
to be no easy job to handle him, if he should find out Mai
to pay in time, But then Jim Beam and Pete can handle
him for all that. It looks to me, Stam Weathers, as if Jim and
Pete wouldn’t have to go far for company, if they 7s cowards !
“ He’s goin’ !” said Nancy, as she reached up and took the
long gun from its rack over the door, “T N load her up for
you, Stam ; and when I puts in a load, all you'll have to do, to
fetch the game, will be to aim true and pull the trigger. But
mind, you've got to watch close and keep your ears open, or
you mought git the wrong one after all, for it’s goin’ to be
dark to-night; and jvatchin’ and hearin sich a night as this
is goin’ to be won't be no little thing to do, neither! Dark!
—there won’t be no moon to-night ; and—listen !—don’t you
hear a racket? The wind’ll be howlin’ and squealin’, and the
trees bendin’ and shakin’ and crackin’. Hell's darkness and
hell’s music will be out there in that woods to-night, Stam ;
and much else can’t be heard, when they're about ! Yes,
watch close, and listen close, - ; for, besides all the rest, the
il hi will be out there !” : ae
Bet cal me, Stam,” persisted Peggy, “is you goin or
not? I'll go back and tell Jim, so he'll know what to
”
Bey ter: ?—in course he’s goin’!” said Naney. “Is ryt
Weathers afraid of Ike Drew? He ain’t none o’ mine if he
is; for I tell you, Nancy Weathers ain't afeerd = ey a
that lives,—no, nor of all the devils in hell besides ot mi
has got any o’ my blood in him, he ain’t no coward ; as i 2 e
ain’t a coward, then he ain’t afeerd, even of Ike i °
Peggy, tell Jim Stam’ll be there ; yes, Stam Weathers wi
e one to set in that path to-night!

“Ts you

insite
 

 

28 KATE WEATHERS; OR,

“ Here, Kate,” said Stam, “take this baby: if I’m goin’
there ain’t much time to spare, for it’s gittin’ kind o’ dusky
now.

Again the mother received her child into her arms. Her
face was ashy pale, and, in spite of all her effort to suppress it,
a deep groan came forth from her sorrowing heart. “ Is you
goin’ away, and leave me and baby so, Stam ?” she asked.

“You know how it is, Kate,” said Stam; “you know
that this kind of business don’t suit me, for I ain’t never
been used to it. But what can I do but go? Yes, Kate, I
must go.”

“Oh, stay, Stam; stay here!” she said. “It'll be dark
and stormy to-night,—dark and stormy; the wind’ll be howlin’
through the woods, and the trees’ll be cryin’ and creakin’ so,—
stay with us! S’posin’ you should kill Ike to-night, or s’posin’
he should kill you !” ;

Don’t be playin’ baby till night comes on, Stam Weathers,”
said Peggy, “for I wants to know if you're goin’. If you're
afeerd to go, say so, and that'll be the eend of it; or if you're
goin’ say so, so as I may go and tell them that sent me.”

“ Who'll say I’m afeerd to go?” said Stam, angrily. “ Let
me tell you, Peggy Strubl, that I ain’t afeerd to go where Jim
Beam or Pete can, nor to undertake what any one or both of
“em together will undertake ; and them that says I is, lies !”’

“ Tt looks as if you is,” said Peggy; “but that ain’t much
to wonder at, for one that’s got sich a chicken-livered wife as
you is.

It was well that Stam had paid no attention to these re-
marks. During their utterance his whole mind was centred
upon the child, who was groaning and breathing heavily, and
at times catching and starting as if it were about to go into
convulsions, Sometimes it would open wide its eyes, and gaze
vacantly up into its father’s face; then it would pucker up its
face as if it were about to scream aloud; and all the time it
was sighing and moaning deeply. Silently the father and
mother stood and gazed into the little face, seeming for the
time to forget all else. The girl, too, stood there looking
sadly on, yet uttering not a word. Poor Gilsey ! she had long
ago learned the danger of undertaking to express her opinion
about anything, or even to speak, unless she should be first
spoken to.

SCATTERED BY THE TEMPEST. 29

“This baby’s powerful sick,” said Stam, at last; “see, how
he’s catchin’ and pantin’! I don’t much think, Kate, he'll
live to see the night out. Be easy with him when I’m gone;
it’s best he should sleep if he will, for it’s but little good
sound sleep that he gits nowadays.”

“He always does best when you're about,” said Kate,
tremulously ; “and if he should come to hisself agin, and
you not be here, it'll be worse for him; I know it will.
S’posin’ he should die when you are gone! Oh, stay here with
us this time; just this time, Stam !”’

“ How long is you goin’ to stay there hangin’ round that
baby?” asked Nancy, impatiently: “don’t you see night's
comin’ on? Here, take this gun; you may count on her
now, for J’ve had her, and I know what’s in her; all you've
got to do is to pull the trigger, and it’s got to be a little thing
and a long way off besides if you don’t hit it somewhere.
Come, come; don’t stand there nussin’ that youngun forever,
or you'll be too late after all. Old as [ is, I ain't never seed
a man yet that was worth a cuss that stayed in the house
half his time nussin’ babies. Stam, Ike Drew has got to be
watched close to-night, remember that, or you'll not git what
you're goin’ after, and maybe never come back yourself neither.”

“There, hold him that way, Kate; sorter up like, with his
head layin’ on your bosom; that’s right, let him lay so, and
kinder keep up his head with the other hand. Don’t lay him
in the bunk by hisself, for he’s bony and it hurts him. When
you gits tired o’ holdin’ of him that way, ease him down quiet
like in your lap; and when he gits to frettin’, sorter swing
him a little from one side to t’other. You and Gilsey will
have to spell one another along as one gits tired, but don’t
lay him in the bunk by hisself. Mind him keerful, Kate, till
I gits back. I must be off now, for night's comin’ on. Keer-
ful till I gits back,—#ill I gits back,—Kate! -

“ Ain’t you ready ?”’ asked Nancy, fiercely.

“ Yes,” said Stam, turning towards his mother ; “I’m ready
now; ready to do what you says do; ready, if I goes to hell
for it!”

“Ha, ha!’ laughed Peggy Strubl; “Stam is a man, I do
believe.”

Stam took down his tarpaulin coat from the joist and drew

it on ; then the souwester was arranged with its long flap hang-
3*
 

 

30 KATE WEATHERS; OR,

ing upon his back, and, taking from his mother’s extended
hand the gun, he passed out of the door and away.

“Mind you, Stam,” called Nancy, “keep the lock under
your coat so the primin’ won't git wet, for it’s best not to
have a flash in the pan when the time comes to pull that
trigger.”

“And mind you,” said Stam, as he turned his dark face
towards her that had spoken, “when we both gits in hell,
the biggest part of the pay for this job will be comin’ to you!”

Rude as had been Stam’s life, yet his heart had known joys,
for he loved his wife and child with a warm and tender love.
When they were near he could be patient, for hope then was
ever whispering to him of peace that would be his in a coming
day, however sad the trials of the present. But hope had de-
parted now, and all was darkness; aye, the darkness within
his bosom now was a thousandfold deeper and more drear than
that that was ever increasing around him as he wended his
solitary way down the path toward the hut of Jim Beam. It
was not long before he reached the hut and found Jim and
Pete impatiently waiting for him, and forthwith the three
made their way through the gloomy woods toward Kill-Devil
Hill, five miles distant to the northward.

For some time after Stam left, Kate continued to sit there
on the chest, not weeping, not even sighing, yet oh, how dis-
consolate! He that she loved as well as her poor ignorant
heart could love,—he had gone forth, possibly never again to
return to her and his child, or, if he should return, to bring
upon him stains of blood of a fellow-creature. Dark indeed
was the life before her now; the angel that had all along so
lovingly sustained her had spread her wings and flown away,
and now she was left without a comforter.

“ How long is you goin’ to set there like a fool, with your
head hangin’ down?” asked Nancy. ‘And there you sets
side of her, like another fool, Gilsey. Is any o’ your folks
dead, that your face should stretch a yard long and your eyes
stick out and stare like crabs’ eyes? Give her that baby,
Kate, and go at your work! When is that net to git done
if you keeps on settin’ there on that chist? Git up, I say,

both of you!”

Kate started to her feet at the sound of that dreadful voice,
and, obeying the command, placed the child in Gilsey’s arms,

SCATTERED BY THE TEMPEST. 31

i ci has
ing wildly about as she did so, and looking as one who
pang deine ats some frightful dream. An instant on =
trembling, then, rushing to the door, she screamed, m !
#
ae You'll have to call louder’n that,” hissed Nancy, esi
through her clinched teeth, as she ran forward with fers -
fist, —“ louder’n that, or he won’t hear you, as much e
as there is goin’ on out there.” But Kate had darted in
the door before the angry hag reached it, and was sp cing
rapidly away in the direction that her husband had ta re ij
rior did she halt or slacken her speed until she had sage
the hut of Jim Beam. She was’wild, frenzied, rah , wha
curses she had prepared, as she went flying along, to heap re
the heads of those who had invited her husband to join wi :
them in their devilish adventure! She did not even pause.
the door when she had reached it, but, bursting through wit
a maniac’s strength ‘and fury, halted first beneath the ingy
roof. Stam was not there; no one was there ; all had gone
Again she stood and called loudly her husband’s name, “
still there came no answer; no voice was heard; no gees
but the tumult of the wild tempest. Then she sat gt -
step of the door, and, burying her fevered face in cant ands,
moaned as only one can moan who writhes beneath the tor-
ing lash of despair. :
iy you found him ?” screamed an angry voice. ‘
The terrified woman looked up, and Nancy Weathers stoo

b ., b a 4 ”
“Oh, tall me, tell me, for God’s sake, where he is!” gasped

Kate. : :
“ Git up from there, hussy,’’ said Nancy ; “ now! now! igi
back ! quick! before I scatter your brains here on 4 eand a

“Qh, call him back! call him back ! pleaded sere :
fore he ‘does what you've sent bbe. to hea ra Il gi ole “p

. [ll git it; we won't git nothin’ but gold, an l

Mea ay i iisel Coie more, than Ike's got in or
Tice —and it'll all be yourn !|—and then, if we can't git pg ,
Kill me; Kill him; kill baby too! but, oh, call him back home
now |” , i

Nancy deigned no reply,
upon the pleading face of K:
ward.

only her burning eyes shone full
ate, as she beckoned her on home-
 

 

32 KATE WEATHERS; OR,

Poor Kate had not the Ww i
power to withstand the d ¢
dreadful charm, and silently she turned and datvaded het sto,
?

followed closely by }
bitter curses frou peli, wis Wedel silat d

 

CHAPTER IV.
IKE TELLS OF THE WRECK IN THE OFFING.

“WELL, you have got her!” sai
' got her!” said Peggy Strubl, lauchi
the tae as eg! came following Kats into ‘the rd
you can do now is to tie h li
she'll be off ag’in. And nesopllare Oe uaa at
vag beady next time she moughtn’t be come up
itd U i

ee up by!” hissed Nancy ; “yes, she’d be come up by
eed 0% ren egt a et be come up by some time, and
r roke of runnin’ off! No, I ain’ in’
to tie her. Go g tig anal ibs than
Me o set down there, you warmint, and tie that

“Well, do as you're a mind to,” said Pecey: i

to me: next time ie gits away Ike Drewil bo aioe
ma ie "308 what she’s after.”
Pll risk that, too,” said Nancy; “ for I tell her

~ ors ay that I mean what I say) if she he

body sti re she'll hever tote no more to him or any-

need “a pes ] send her with a word to him myself, and

e to travel through a darker way than the path

through this wood
8, too, for Ike’ i i
the oil Yises ata Bas for Ike’ll be in a dismal place before

ow what’s goin

“ We ” : :
Banks stems Peggy » again laughing boisterously, “ North
: nmin’ out about
aid t's as ut about as bad as any place, I guess,

hie to begin the work to-night as any time.”
ts as well to begin at Ike Drew’s house as any-

stages - “Tell be cooler here when that devil *
gits farther off. It'll be like tackin’ out where “there's te

sea room. Ike ;
Drew’s a bad rock; and somehow or other.
?

steer as you will, it’s always right before the bows.”

“Tke pros e :
e Drew!” said Peggy, rising excitedly to her feet and

SCATTERED BY THE TEMPEST. 33

scowling darkly as she spoke. “ Ike Drew! Cuss his heart !
Yes, it’s best to begin with him! Ha! I’ve had my plans
laid for him this many a day. His time has come at last, for
Ike Drew’ll die to-night! But the devil wouldn’t die as easy
as he’s a goin’ to, if I could have things like I want ’em, for
T'd take him, ‘live like he is, and feed him away, piece by
piece, to the dogs, leavin’ his heart for the last! Ike Drew!
What's it to Ike Drew if Jim Beam és a nigger? What's it
to him if Pete's a nigger, too? And what's it to him if Pete
Beam is my youngun? IfTma mind to have twenty nigger
babies how does that pester him, and what's he got to do with
it? Is he to cuss Jim and Pete, and to mammock me when
he likes for that? uss his heart! It’s blacker than Jim
Beam’s face, black as that is!  Ain’t Jim Beam or Pete
Beam as good as Ike Drew? Ain't Peggy Strubl as good?
Cuss Ike Drew!” :

A fiendish smile was upon Nancy's face while she stood
looking at the furious woman, and listening attentively to
every word she uttered. “ That’s so,” she said; “Ike Drew
is a devil, and he’s got a black heart; but as to that, Jim
Beam’s heart and face is both black, and if straws was to be
drawed for the best man it would be about the same whether
the long or the short straw should be drawed, for it’s a yard
with one and three foot with the other.”

“ What’s these old scoggins tryin’ to hatch out now 2?” asked
a man, who for some minutes had been standing unperceived
at the door with his head protruding in. “I should say it
was best to be partickler and not bounce too high, honeys, or
you mought break your eggs; and then just think of the mess!
Tke Drew’s a devil, is he, purty Peggy? *Twouldn’t do to
call you’ by sich a ugly name as that, would it? And Ike
Drew’s a devil, is he, sweetheart Nancy? You ain't though !—
You sharks! You devil-fish! Ike Drew’s a devil, is he; but
Jim Beam is a nigger? No rubbin’ the black off there, is
there, purty Peggy? And Jim Beam and Pete Beam is, ary
one, as good a man as Ike Drew, eh? Liar! Can't I lick
the life out o’ Jim, with Pete throwed into the barg’in? You
Ienow! Now come, honey, let me hear you say that Jim
Beam’s as good a man as Ike Drew, and I'll fetch you out
here and grease ‘this door-block with your brains, you sting-
eree !”

B*

inc isn idnac ioa

 
 

 

34 KATE WEATHERS; OR,

“Go off and let me alone, Ike Drew,” said Peggy, in a
terrible fright. “T ain’t pesterin’ you, is 1?”

‘* Ain’t pesterin’, eh? The next time my ears fools me
will be the first time. Now maybe it’s best for you to believe
that I’ve got my eyes on you and that lampus there by you,
too! Where's Stam Weathers, Kate ?”

“Stam Weathers?” said Kate, trembling and gasping for
breath. “Stam Weathers? Oh, yes,—Stam—Stam Weathers !
He's gone, Ike, he’s gone—gone up the beach. He went up
the beach a spell ago.”

“ He’s gone about his business!” said Nancy, defiantly.

“Ts he, honey,” said Ike, as he stepped in at the door and
went hurriedly toward the hag and thrust his face within a
foot of hers; “maybe he’s gone to look for more drownded
ones to drag up and bury in the sand; but then six ought.to
be enough for one day. Yes, like as any way he’s got it into
his head that the gig had more’n six for a crew, and he’s gone
to look for the rest of ’em. But, then, who’s been pesterin’

you, and gittin’ you to look so ugly; pidgin? It’s a pity for
your looks to be spi’lt that fashion! Who's pestered you?”

Nancy opened her mouth to speak, but the terrible eyes
that were glaring into hers warned her to remain silent, and
the turned her sullen face away towards the fire.

Ike paused until he saw that no reply was to be made; then
he turned towards Kate, and again asked, “ Where’s Stam ?”

“Stam? Where's Stam?” she said. “Ike, I don’t know;
all I knows is he’s gone up the beach, like I told you,—that’s
all T knows. Maybe he’s gone to look about for wrecked things,
or maybe he’s gone to Kill-Devils, to keep a watch in the offin’ ;
maybe he 7s gone to look for more drownded ones, like you says,
for Stam allers buries them fust ; but then I don’t know, Ike.”

“ Look out o’ that door, Kate,” said Ike, in a rage; “ kind o’
dark, ain’t it? And so Stam’s gone to look for wrecked things,
or keep a watch out in the offin’, or find dead ones to bury, eh?
_ Did he take any spectickles along? If he didn’t, he won’t

see much, will he? Now, Kate, you know well enough you're

lyin’. Stam Weathers couldn’t no more see nothin’ to-night
than if his head was inside of a jug. Come, then, tell me
what's to pay; if you don't, I'll choke the life out o’ you!
What's goin’ on, Kate?”

“Ike,” said Kate, in a pleading tone, “don't hurt me for

 

SCATTERED BY THE TEMPEST. 35

not tellin’ you what I es hem Stam started up the beach
eo, and that’s all I knows.” . ; ;
: g amg at she, stood there, pale, and quaking with ~
before the searching gaze of that dreadful man, who ha
guessed well that she was uttering untruths, but who, now
that she had spoken again, began to doubt. ae
For a time he stood with an angry but puzzled Wee ie
upon his face, and only gazed in silence at the frighten Spat
man. Gradually the dark frown grew less dark ; yet sti rc
continued to stand there and gaze. Hard and cruel as was his
heart, there still remained in it a tender spot. Battered and a
as it had been by the storms of life, still there remained ae -
that had not been snapped, though long it had been mats “
Now Pity’s fingers softly trilled that chord, and the dark-
browed man stood listening—listening to whispered music.
“Ts that so, Kate?” he said, at last. “ Well, maybe it is.
i guess he’s heerd of the wreck that hove in sight a spell ago,
and has gone to get a soon chance at her. But she won't

ight ; is, ¥ "s let alone.”
come on to-night; that is, if she’s le 4 4 ‘s
Nancy started. ‘Wreck? Is a wreck comin’ on, Ike?

Ke Whak 2” Ike said, mocking the hag’s voice, and mimick-
ing her movements of surprise, and at the same time stooping
forward with his face near to hers, and gazing fiercely. “Yes,
i reck’s comin’ on.” :
mara now, Ike,” said Nancy, in a coaxing sant ewe
ain’t no use gittin’ mad and stayin’ mad. Is she load 5 7
“ Ts she loaded, Ike?” the man said, repeating her we 3
in a womanly voice, and, as he spoke, putting one a _
the back of her head, and slapping her forcibly in the ag, +1
with the other. “Thete, keep that dirty me _— or 2
make you up into a cake softer than a jelly-fish ! - ear crn
Again Nancy turned a gt So were now blazing
3 ‘ fire, and was sient. ts
det dom. know that the wreck was ccmnin on —
he started up the beach, Kate?” asked Ike. Come, 7. ak
“No, Ike. He didn’t know nary thing oe oe f pre
he didn’t, for he didn’t say a word about it, All [hee ab
say was, that there was a ship not fur behind - gig oe
stranded at Kill-Devils last night. No, he didn nae
a wreck had hove in sight. Did you see her, Ike

Sep ee oer oF eee

Sas sic
 
  
   
  
    
  
    
  
  
  
   
  
  
  
   
    
  
 
 
 
   
  
    
   
  
 
 
 

36 KATE WEATHERS; OR,

“No. Sol Curt seed her from the top of Kill-Devils.”

“What was she?” Kate ventured to ask. “ Was she
loaded ?”

“Sol says he watched her as long as he could see her, but
he couldn’t make out much. She’s well out ; her masts is all
gone; she was under a jury-mast, driftin’ slow to s’uthard,
creepin’ to'ards shore. She’s got some load in, but she was
too far away and the weather was too thick to tell much.
It was only once in a while that she could be glimpsed at all.
It's dark out there now, Kate, and if the ship should happen
to jibe,—but as to that, them that’s got the tiller is wastin’
time tryin’ to keep her off the beach, for this wind ain't goin’
to change between this and to-morrow night, and one little
sail won’t do. They’d just as well turn her bows on, and have
it over with.”

“$’posin’ she should jibe?” Kate asked. ‘“ Would ad

“ Would she come on?” said Ike, taking it for granted that
that was the question intended to be asked. “ Why, yes, that
would bring her on quicker ; jibin’ would git em tangled up,
and it’s like enough, before they could git her luffed up right
agin, she'd be gone. Don’t you see? It’s blowin’ and
heavin’ out there, Kate, and ain’t it black! Ever foul her,
and she’s gone. Kate, that craft’ll be high and dry before
daylight ; but Stam must be here to go with me.”

Kate had a double purpose in making the inquiries she did
about the coming wreck. She had gained her point in bring-
ing Ike to believe that she did not know where Stam had gone ;
and now she hoped that by engaging him in conversation upon
the subject in which she well knew he felt deep interest, his
anger might by degrees so cool down as that she would have
Jess apprehension of acts of violence from him. She also
knew that Peggy and Nancy were only deterred from making
the inquiries that she was making by their fear of Ike; and
she hoped to gain their favor by the course she was pur-
suing. Her quick eye observed that at times the grim face
of Peggy would lighten up almost into a smile; and that
Nancy, far the more nervous and restless of the two upon

whom the injunction of silence had been laid, was several
times on the very eve of forgetting herself and asking a
question ; but, though her lips might have the question that
she desired to ask upon them, she would remember the

 

    

  

   

SCATTERED BY THE TEMPEST. 37

i xpression
dreadful order in time, and instantly resume her exp

- best aera get to speak of the heaving of the seas.
uw

ship’s
d the blackness of the night, and the get of Bete
CS aquired the greatest effort on the pa Ba
Peni ap swoy to restrain the laugh of wild eae
nine os etal moved from side to side ae ing =
proce rage er this menage orn plo po oe
i 4 ip’ ding before ght;
tainty of the ship's stranding

i hy he had
instant they caught his dark meaning, and knew why
to)

‘ er feet.
come for Stam, and then Nancy sprang to he

p y 5 ts Ike, $ NS) a
I can hel ou about the ligh P as well a tam
she said. Ha : ha! , can work like a man, Ike, and you ll

7

ht ing his clinched fist
~ neing and holding his clinche

il!” said Ike, adva Ee
sade tee “ open that mouth another time! %

; i t, and you know
? - there’s deviltry out, edge
x ere Stam’s gone; the! Sr a
rte te I've tee seein’ it In your eyes. ie meebo
that sh devil there knows it. Somethin’s - g peti %
ses that hil enough ; and both of you knows

i ote ?”” , Paes
Pegey, where’s Jim and Pet “ieee
For what I knows,” said Peggy, y

? ” 4 a 7 Ww :
em there. ‘ve lied to me; I see it no
ve lie ?

“ D’ve been there! Kate, What is it?”

Gente a! 7 %
me the psn tae ch T go look for ee PBR yr od
hi hen he comes you
may find him ; and then w

=i j c 2 9 ’ . id

"hoe he? id Ths ull me oe TUM 8 gy
00 7% sp ,

fi Been ig ag saat I shall find him, if you i le

n im: ?

mes d man. “Go! You
“Go, then!” thundered the enrage

know where he is! ws ~ ~~ — and you know
ve ee the open door, keeping
ibe. said, be
“tell him to meet cas
ae oe of mes sped

’ ©
near the woman’s face,

her frightened

went.
he man as she
“ty fore she had crosse

!

hale’s Jaw.—Away now +
Whe leaped from the door, and,
away through the gloom ;

4

   

nS ai Slt

 
 

38 KATE WEATHERS; OR,

did she for an instant pause until she had crossed the reef to
gg waters upon her

the hard, smooth beach and felt the rushin
feet and ankles. There she

terror, screamed with all her
screamed.

The darkness that hung around her like the pall of death
was utter; loud was the solemn booming of the surf; doleful
the tempest wails; but more than these she feared the man
from whose presence she had flown,—the man whose hands
and whose soul were reeking with human blood. Had the
grinning form of death appeared before her then, she would
not have shrunk from it; but oh, death at the hands of Ike
Drew! Her screams were drowned in the tumult of the
__ tempest, and even she herself heard them not.

She paused not long, for the thought came—suppose the

fiend from whom she had flown had followed ; suppose even

now he should be near by and reaching out his eager hands

through the darkness! Again she sped away, now up the

dreary beach ; but oh, where should she find Stam !

paused, and, in an agony of

 

CHAPTER V.

KATE GOES OUT INTO THE DARKNESS TO SEEK HER HUs-
BAND.

From the very dawning of her reason, Kate Weathers had
known no other life than that of hardship and privation. And
yet she was not on that account so great a sufferer, for she
knew not of the existence of any better mode of living than
that of her own. Here, upon and near the barren Sea-coast,
she had lived from early childhood ; here all her days as far
back as the range of recollection extended had been Spent ;
here she had grown to womanhood and become a wife and
mother ; and here she dwelt still, with never a thought to en-
ter her mind but that here, in course of time, she should die,
and then in a brief space be forgotten. She knew, ignorant
as she was, that the pent-up territory upon which she dwelt

might,—aye, wildly, frantically

was not all of the world, for
and see the green islands 0
the dark line of —— 3
y the ever-heaving bl
es and away on the other pres
multitudes of people dwelt; Ww here
the hills near her humble a
waste, were towering forests ry fet
fields of grain and fruits; an 7 “
what she had heard, nay, her “ we

were crude and for the most part false.

it must be a place 0
the ber Fin of the dwellers upon eart
Faint glimmerings too of a happy
had; but her pictures of heaven
in with tinted figures that were un Apoeborctt
yet she loved the faint pictures an
prehend them,—ever —_*
more brightly upon them an
She remembered as in @ se “ie
he is good and the Author o . cael hep
of all things,—the world a :

moon, and stars, and the b ue 8 ie
seen. the shipwrecked kneel in

 

39
SCATTERED BY THE TEMPEST.

t on one hand
he could look ou e
f the sound, and in the distance

and she had been told that be-

s of the great deep, that reached

ere lands of beauty, where
were houses higher than
where, instead of —<—
flowery vale and hill, an

notions, based upon
f everything in life,

it, for she
ll, and she feared it,
heard much about hel \ a
walla f pain and — : is rie Je.
beyond the grave she
tae — dim outlines filled
decided and uncertain, and
ing to —
unlight would 0
wae aon ont more an,
vi Id od: th
f SS et a the Maker
"is in it; the sun, the
More than once she had
sand and thank that great

God for deliverance from death ; yet He that lived away up

r how
cause her to gaze, and to wonde

i how in-
feebly said! and
posing weiiona yo cere of thanksgiving as they

so little
were poured forth from glad hearts, though she knew

i i : fair
f t ing ! time ago—a
: Suc cease al that once—a long; aay came with her

ree ahve gsr eS them, she alone was
through the raging suri, but,

A ther
remember d. She T mained m the desolate strand unt ] re)
ed. e 0

‘ful bei . with
beautiful beings came ; wit! z
vis she ean Bel morning a 6 7
eame to embrace and Kiss her, des well she remembered t “
God's blessings upon them. ce when the blue eyes wer

i i ea yi
eee erm Sr ry seat she remembered the silvery
raised heavenward } an

these she departed, and never again

es
 

40 KATE WEATHERS; OR,

tones of her speech! Often after the fair girl passed away
she would feel the thrill of gladness at her heart that she felt
when the soft hand rested upon her head. Often she would
call to remembrance the gentle-toned pleadings for God’s pro-
tection and mercy. The music of that voice would never be
forgot,—even the words were remembered ; they were of God
and heaven, of realms of beauty and peace, and of the glad
beings that have their dwellings in those realms. At times
all seethed as a dream that she had had in childhood, yet she
knew that it was real; that calm, glad face, those soft eyes,
the golden hair, the fair hands, the graceful form,—it could
not be a dream. And yet it was all so long, long ago that

now the beautiful girl and the glad heaven that she told of
were so blended that she could not separate them,—the heaven
could only be remembered by remembering the beautiful being
that told of it.

With hell and its spirits of evil she had grown familiar,
for of these she had heard much ; of these she had heard most
when strife and hatred were deadliest. And now, as she sped
up the beach through the roar of the dark tempest, she could
not think of much but hell, and more than once she paused
to wonder whether, indeed, she were not already one of its
dark spirits wandering she knew not whither. Oh, the hor-
rors of a long existence such as this! Could hell be more
dreadful? Oh, where would be rest for her?

Not a ray came from any quarter to relieve the utter black-

. ness of the night, except the ghostly glimmerings that were

flashed through the raging surf; no ray but these, and these
but rendered more dreadful the reigning gloom; tumult and
turbulence led on their angered hosts in mad array, ceaseless
and wild were ocean’s boom and roar, frightful the region of
unrest, tireless the tempest’s screaming, one endless wail the
music of its march !

Frenzied with horror, she paused in her mad flight. She
would be calm. She would wait there until she had collected
her scattered thoughts and settled upon some more certain

"course to pursue.

Poor Kate! she stood there in the deep gloom pressing her
hands upon her throbbing temples and trying to recall the
recent past,—trying to persuade herself that now at last she

- was calm. It was a hard task that she had undertaken, and

yet she would be reasonable ;
state of her case and be calm.
into the darkness to look for Stam.
the hut in the thicket an
shore; she had paused there an
on; she was standing now on
ing billows,
and beyond these, towa
lay stretching ee) on al
that were howling in Ir
leaning against them, they were wav
ward her long hair and scanty garmen
were constantly stre
they came. Then she remembered

ission of death
rapes’ near Kill- Devils for Ike to come.

remembered all now,

 

SCATTERED BY THE TEMPEST. 41

she would remember the true
Ike Drew had driven her out
She remembered leaving
i o reef to the sea-
d flying across the reef
nd screamed in terror, then sped
the hard beach near = —
ith i i d hills and vales,
ren reef with its plain an .
awe rds the sound-side, the tangled igs
her left hand; she felt the fierce winds
the sea; she was staggering and
ving and fluttering reef-
ts; great clouds of il
+ i as
ing in from the ocean, drenching era
retin BR Stam’s starting out upon his
ot that he was waiting now
—she doubted n raga
Yet, where
and she would be calm. Yet,
hould she find Stam? Howshould she find him in the dreary
: ne 9 Familiar as she was with hill and dale, and with ever y
Pach through the thicket, she knew not how to find them now ;
f=]

a how should she, who knew not where she herself was, be

find Stam ? 4
ax hat sade were still pressed upon her temples. Stam was

in the path at the foot of Kill-Devil Hill, at the edge of the

thicket. She would have no difficulty in finding the thicket,

i it; ld cross
for the wind was bearing directly towards it ; she wou

i ld
over to it and trace its edge alorig; it was the best she cou
ink be done. Por
ae hed not been tracing along the oe raf nes 3
long before she began the ascent of a hill. ae = Aan
summit she began calling the _ of gs brie et pine itn
had screamed at the ocean , om
“¢ Sua own voice. Then she thought that by pa get
peters thicket side of the hill the oe eae sper
e extent s a Q
from the sea would be to som
i ight make hersel oo 1k SE
pr Kill-Devil Hill that she “ iy bees Regents
i e tu ;
ar her husband; so again she : <a
of th F aiskee but she had gone but a be be 2:
vale to the steep brink (for the wind had be g
came

-side of the hills had become
long from the sea that the sot side of th

f heard; and then it might be that _

alteasittaiatsellh sh,
 

Here the sounds of her voice were com
and she called again with all he

paratively distinct,
“ Who are you?” asked one

rt might, “Oh, Stam !”

Kate heard the click of the cocking gun; only an instant
of time was hers, « Oh, Stam,” she said, “don’t shoot me!
It's me, Stam !”

“ Kate!”
“ Yes, Stam, it’s me.”
“ You, Kate! My God! Little m

ore and I'd a shot you!
d my finger on the trigger! What's brought
you out here sich a time as this ?”

“T’ve come for you, Stam.”
“Is the baby dead ?”

“No, no! Oh, Stam! I'm So glad, so glad, so glad! You
ain’t bloody yet; and Ike won’t be here to-night.”

“Won't be here! How do you know that, Kate ?”
“ He sent me to look for you.”

“Tke sent you! How did he know I was here ?”

you was here, Stam; but he went
d gone up the beach, He got mad and
for you. He asked me where you was,

*tter, so I told him you’d

ed things, or watch in the
say; and he was goin’ to

for you,
and I told him you’

I didn’t know what else to
kill me for lyin’ to him”

“T don’t wonder he got mad, Kate, for j

in the sky since it was made,
What did Ike say he wanted ?”

“ He didn’t say.”

“Did he say anything about Jim or Pete ?”
“ yy

es; he knowed they was gone, too.”

LT Saas

SCATTERED BY THE TEMPEST. 43

y hen
“ He’s found it out |Was mammy and Peggy there whe
s ”
ashe sed and Ike had a full time cussin’ of ‘= first thing.
os Has Tke Drew been beatin’ of you, eng ee
“No: all he did was to cuss, and do n a aera
there to kill somebody,—seems as he w

Was gone.”

“ Was he by hisself?”

idn’t s Ise about.” i
‘ Da on reap eat Pe wait there till I comed back ?
‘Di

t him at Whale’s Jaw.” ,
: Be * ba age Baar des he’s heerd all ~ re ar oh
t cle can: but, Kate, I'd rather a eae jon this
if Tshould git killed, than that he should a
-nig » ’ t his box
TOR ee Stam! don’t kill Tke! You don’t don't do it!”
f gold. Mammy wants you to kill him, but do uldn’t take it
: e No Kate, I don’t want his gold; nor I vh — it ain’t his
if I should kill him, and he had ever so a that makes me
old, for I don’t want that.—It’s mammy * hin’ —not even for
feel as if I didn’t care for — i i an A bat go and
nd W
you, Kate, and the baby.
ver an “Jnow,” she said; “but then if a4 pp Boe
Ike Peete never have no eh! cana! poo does say
woul neither. Don Mil ia ge back. Don’t kill The,
all Ji te in, ap Sabana on
Sos a os é Whale’s Jaw restr —
Pe it’ll all come rig k
Bieter Pa prt fi I'm goin’ to draw the shot and
; 1 ¢ 2 i Ra .
per theca aie aden fired before the heat
u é
f t aoe errsiesyro close by, -g Jim Beam’s
ioral : * Was that you shot, Stam
canes it him ?” hand
“ Did you git him : the other hand. ;
” asked a voice onthe: «The game's
; aoe ak ae and Jim in,” said Stam. gs

. ”
‘ in’ out here to-night. . im
PE cae emp eng RS" asked the gruff voice o Soe
3 How ts) you

Beam.

 

 

ais chine

. eee ean

as aes ey ees eee
 

44 KATE WEATHERS; oR,

“The word’s been fetched.”

“ Who fotch it ?”

“ Kate’s standin’ here by me.”’
“ Kate out here ?’—Kate !”

“ Yes, I’nr here,” said Kate.

“ How come you to know that Tke ain’t comin’ ?”

“ Tt was him that sent me to look for Stam.”

“You're lyin!” said Jim.
Stam was here ?”

“ He didn’t know that; but h
he wasn’t there,”

“ Well!”

“Then he driv me out to find him.”
“Tke Drew knows who se i
he knows what's goin’ on, a
What did he say ?”

“ He said he wanted Stam.”
“ What for ?”

“To go and meet him at Whale’s Jaw.”
“Whale’s Jaw? Didn’

t he say for what? I'd as lieve
meet the devil at Whale’s Jaw to-night as Ike Drew ! You'd
better watch, Stam !”

“ He says there’s a wreck in the offin’,”
“A wreck! Did Ike say so?”
“ Wreck ?” Pete echoed.

“Wreck, Kate? Did he see her ?”’ asked Stam.

“No; Sol Curt’s been all day watchin’ out from Kill-

Devils; it was him that seed her. She was driftin’ to
s'uthard, and creepin’ in slow.”

“ It's somethin’ about the wreck th
for, Stam,” said Pete,  « Maybe she’s goin’ to b
Whale’s Jaw. What did Tke say about her, Kate ?”

“Sol couldn't see her good; it was misty, and she was a

long way out. She's lost all her masts, and they're luffin’ of
her under one little sail on a jury-mast.”

“ Was she loaded ?” Jim asked.
“Sol couldn’t tell ; She was too fur away.”

“Too fur! Any fool mought a told that she was loaded,
or that she wa’nt! Driftin’ to s’uthard—movin’ in slow—
under one little sail? 7 know she had some load, and I ain't
seed her. She wouldn't a moved in slow if she’d been light.”

at he wants to see you

each at

SS SSG enannesaae se

“ How come he to know that

€ went to the house, and found

 

45
SCATTERED BY THE TEMPEST.

“Did Ike say when she'd beach ‘ eee she’d come
‘ . en ”
Ft sackoig ww eer Med come before day, anyways.
on in & harry 5 gees! Jim. «The knowed ! ont pve:
re in agg to help him to raise oo she can
road "whales 5 aw is right there: ct 8 it ’
ge. = ee
be drawed into the yurt any be: said Kate. ‘“ Maybe
‘ ain’t nothin 2 ; od chance
h : gk Tage eta comin’, and he only y nay psa io you
prop is leg go to Whales ae eis
ria Ta vigil ie there now to kill you. Don't g
© : ] | iy . : le’s Jaw
Jaw ings a et “Tm goin’ straight to ig pet wit.
f ane Te Ike Drew's after killin’ me—well,
usi . 4 ” sos y
as fur as he can in the sah Jim; “and Ike's after raisin
“Tt’s a wreck comin’,” sal ’
i it is!” ale’s Jaw to-
lights, that’s what it pe Ike Drew at Whale’s Jaw t :
“TE it wai zoin’ to meet Ike a spell before goin
Ht Radeon. I should circle ‘round a spell b §
D> ? * -
i : “Tke’s mighty
OF: Don't go there to-night, Stam,” said Kate. 3
2 f
mad.” ured half a handful o
Perc tcewrdity 2: groped his gun on the nates of
i ' a . ; re
owder the ;
? | d
from here.” home with me, an
iG Oh, Stam!’ Kate paca PE Bposin' I should go on
; Whale’s Jaw to-night. Sposin, | there for you,
te tee without you, and find Ike waitin
? y ” hale’s Jaw.
ep hort Stam, “I’m goin’ <> ea git does want
’ i ’ 2 min ’ 7 2 ’ d
re’s a wreck co T shan’t do
aes na ii Goes raisin’ lights on ik ares been on
it; for that business 69 § ape serra this. But if he’s
? € gee i sic . ee
: ne with a ery nis
brea gs eebes 3 may have the oe Tas he bear
after killin . “
calls me coward, 1 gt Sania aaa
he nae ahah of man mustn't do it,—no,
; but tl ‘7
mustn’t do it!” + coin’ on,” said Jim. “If all’s right, we'l
“ Pete and me is go a ean an
be at Whale’s Jaw when you comes, Sta

 

pint cine oeeticinnn *

ocsnssinall leases

inci teats
lia nathan
  
 
    
  
   
   
  
  
   
  
    
  
  
 

  
 
 
 
  
 
  
   
   
    

ae KATE WEATHERS; OR,

“ Kate,”’ said Stam, after he ha
priming his gun, “I’m goin’ to st
keep close to me, for if I shoul
you no more till day.”

“ Here’s a net-line I’ve
one end ’round your arm, and T’ll lead on aft
I'm ready now.”

“ Wait ; I’ve got somethin’ to tell
where we can’t hear one another talk,” sai

know how it’ll be when we gits to Whale’s Jaw, Kate; maybe
Tke’ll shoot me, or cut me, or somethin’; or maybe I'll do

him so; or maybe Ike'll want me to go wi

ith him behind the
hills, so we can hear one another talk,—for nothin’ can be

heard there at the beach. But, whate
set there where I leave you till I com

light, for you wouldn't never find your way to the path by
yourself to-night. If I shouldn’t git killed, I’m goin’ on

with you:—if I should, you must do the best you can, and
that’s all I can tell you.”

“Oh, Stam, Stam!” said Kate, sobbing
by this path to the sound-side, and home th

don’t blow so hard there, and we can hear 0
the way home.”

es to you, or till day-

bitterly, “let’s go
at way; the wind
ne another talk all

 

» tor mammy, and Peggy,
and Jim, and Ike, and all would beat me and mammock me

if you warn’t there ; nobody wouldn’t care nothin’ for me and
baby then ; what should we do? Oh

“T wish it wasn’t like
right yet.”

“Stam,” she said, while“sobbing still, “you're mad with
Ike, and when you comes up by him, you'll forgit me and
baby. Mammy wants you to kill Ike, but we don't. You're
good to us, but nobody else ain’t. We don’t want for nobody
to kill you, nor for you to kill nobody: nor you don't want to
kill nobody neither;—I know you don’t. Don't go! Your
gun’s loaded, and this is a dark, black night. You don’t want
to, but you mought. Don't go by Whale’s Jaw! It’s better

d got through loading and
art now ; and you'll have to
d lose you, I should never find

got in my bosom,” said Kate; “tie
er you. There!

you before .we goes out
said Stam, «TJ don’t

ver ’s done, you must

     

 

  

SCATTERED BY THE TEMPEST. AT

+ killed
for you to git killed,

hould laugh at you, than ig oor

oes warts with somebody’s blood smeared on you.—Von t,
ee oak was silent. ‘ You know, he
t last rs what store I sets by you and baci ar sn
I t eo. I shouldn’t never have no peace i ny fan

penny nizht.—seems to me I shouldn’t never ca
: bd ; ”

t go, Kate !
pr sae rey her; and yet oe a be nor
terly. “Take hold o’ my hand, Stam, she = iP ae m
pest hold o’ you than the line, for that u e - - Lerigt
skeered when [ gits off from you. Oh, Ata
dark thoughts to-night! Who is the devil, Stam ¢ a es

ne'The devil? Why it’s—it's him that keeps up th dain
i ll, I guess; and thunders and rac 3
pein lead inte the Jittle devils’ bellies, and

‘ is hell?”
‘ Hall? Why now you're gittin’ too hard for me. I don’t

know where it is. Ishould say, though, 08 it’s a _ hes
it’s always stormy and cloudy and fiery an _ a i
thine’s allers of a howl and roar; and where ~— a
daly and where they is all the time cussin — ig _ ee
yellin’ :—it’s about sich as that I guess. But what's g

* é 9” ;
to thinkin’ sich things, Kate? * it's b verything
; ” aid; “maybe it's because everything
pit beet aeeeey ae Where does the people that’s
is so black and ugly a :
there go from ?” from these parts an
me goes from these par
Pon 65 oe eee, Sadi 2 the devil picks ’em up
some from other parts.
here and there.” ks?”
‘ ’ from North Banks :
. regeige oe Con isto know? I shouldn’t wonder,
though.” ”
¢ : ’n Ike Drew ? : ‘
‘ Ther nm nok too hard for me agin, Kate. Bu
?

in’ about !”
: ings for you to be studyin’ a
pare oh oe pal 7 baby ‘was in heaven, Stam. That's

 

a nice plac W there aint no fussin’, and where all goes
e here

j 1 Bey ’
— ae — a “Tt is a nice place, Kate, if that’s
si :

t it
the way of it; but I ain't never heerd no great abou
’

    

sian

bast bacon
 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

   

48 KATE WEATHERS i; OR,

no way. It ain’t like this if things goes along smooth and
peaceful.”’

“That’s where that pretty one went when she left here:
and that’s where them purty ones lived that comed for her.”
“ Kate,” said Stam, “all that ain't nothin’ but a dream
you've had in time gone. No sich a purty one as you talks
about ain’t never been wrecked here as I knows of; and I
knows more about sich things than you does,”

“No, Stam; I was with her most 0’ the time,
got her, maybe.”

“ Well, I don’t see how it is, Kate,—I can’t sce into it:
but I know one thing well enough,—if heaven's a nice place,
it ain't like this; and if hell’s a black, fussy place, it ds
like this; and it ain’t the best kind of a place to live at,
neither.” : 5

“T’ve been thinkin’ that too,” said Kate. “Tf it’s as dark
in hell all the time as it is here now, I should guess there'd
be a power of wrecks always beachin’; and if the folks that
lives there is all as bad as Ike Drew, there wouldn’t be much
show for them that should happen to git ashore alive. Just
as well they should be drowned,—maybe better,” :

“ But some wouldn’t call it a bad place to live at, Kate, if
wrecks is always comin’ on,—specially if they brings cargoes.”

““ What would be the good of cargoes if it’s allers black and

5
stormy like it is here now, and

t if all the people there is like
Ike Drew ?—but then wrecks ain’t no good here as I sees,

Stam. S'posin’ money and things is got, what’s it all for? T
don’t never feel glad when I sees a wreck comin’ on, for T
thinks of what a hard time them that’s on her is havin’; and
then when she gits in, here, follerin’ her, comes the dead ones
pitchin’ about in the surf, and rollin’ up on the sand; their
white eyes, their hair all stragglin’ about, and their faces

You've for-

cont
lookin’ as if they was skeered. It's a mighty pity, and I wish
there warn’t no storms and wrecks, Stam,—that I do !—Who
has most to do with storms and wrecks? ain't it Ike and Jim,
and sich ?”

“Shouldn’t wonder if you're right, Kate. There ain’t
much good in wrecks, sure ‘nough, so far as I sees.”
“No; and there ain’t much good in them that has most to

do with them. Oh, Stam, I’m so glad Ike didn’t come for
the box !”

     
 
 

SCATTERED BY THE TEMPEST. 49

  

“Let go my hand a =e Kate, and step here behind me.
: in’ to shoot this load out.”
vies peared ?” asked Kate, in alarm. “Shoot what,
Stam ?”

é. of the black devils that’s all around me.
It’s le they should git shot than that I should jine with
’em and kill Ike Drew, and that mought be did if the load stays
in. There! I shan’t never load her to shoot nobody agin,
Kate! Come take hold o’ ay or re this gun’s.

ighter with that load out! :
it is ‘ast the man and his wife passed around “ =
and wended their way across the barren plain to the beac I
down the beach to Whale’s Jaw, not once halting or attemp .
ing to converse on the way. Only Pete was there awaiting
gag Sect herself as she had been told to do, and the two
off behind the ridge to converse.
yes week is comin’, Stam,” said Pete. ‘“ Len Curt has
come in since Sol come. He’s been as fur down as Kitty-
hawk, where he had a better sight of her. She’s a ahictee
dred-ton ship, and has got a good smart freight in; all “i :
masts is gone, like Sol said, and she’s got one jury-mast Me
a little piece of sail on it. Her rudder’s all right, and hi
that’s got the hellum knows how to hold her up, too, for she’s
creepin’ in and to the s’uthard slow as a snail creeps. Len —
she was about six mile out when the sun sot, and he thinks Py
now she’s somewheres abreast of Kill-Devils ; he says if she
was let alone, she’d beach about here, at Whale’s Jaw, by day-
break; but Ike says she’s got a big crew, and maybe ce
gers, and it’s best to bring her on to-night, so as ae ae
‘ll git drownded up (which they will do when it’s dark .: e : is
now), for he says when so many gits to shore it nek other,
like it did last time. Him and daddy’s up on the ridge now
makin’ ready to raise lights. There! the lights 8 =
now! Ain't they handlin’ of ’em purty! _ There t K sare
down ; up they goes agin; down agin | It’s as nat * ao '
was a craft ridin’ the seas. They've sot up a pole * 2
pulley-block rigged in the top of it, and all they v0. ee
is to draw a lantern up and down: half the time the ig ~
hid, and half the time them on the wreck can see it risin’ an
lowering. There it goes up agin !
Cc
  
  
  
 
  

KATE WEATHERS; OR,

“ Jim’s helpin’ Ike?” asked Stam.

“Yes; and he sent me back to wait for
come up. When we first come up by la aioe at pth
goin’ to kill you at sight, but daddy lied to him, and got him
right after a spell: he told him that me and you and him come
up here a spell before night and spied the wreck, and that we
concluded we'd go up the beach and wait for her to come on
It’s best to keep in with him, or the devil will be to pay to-
morrow, when the ship gits on; somebody’d git killed. We
can look for the box when this is over with. Le’s go up i

“No,” said Stam, “I ain’t goin’ up; what I stopped for
was to see what Ike wanted: I guess it was to help about the
lights; so ’'ll go on home.”

“ But what’s I goin’ to tell him if you don’t come?”

“Tell him I’m gone home, and if he wants to find me par-
tickler he can find me there.”
_-“ Tke ain’t agoin’ to let you in for a share to-morrow, Stam,
if you don’t stop and help about the lights ; he’s as mad as a
devil now, and when [ tell him you’ve gone on, I don’t know
how it'll be.”
“ Let it be like it will,” said Stam; “I’m goin’ home, and
that’s what you may tell him.”
_ “Tl tell him,” said Pete, as he began the ascent of the
ridge, “that you've lost Kate, and is lookin’ for her. Maybe
a ll ep ‘ — got to be told him, or he’ll be sure to

nd out what we’ve been doin’ : ‘
be the ott deaess — up the beach, and that would
tam returned to the Whale’s vai i i

wife’s hand, they groped their tf ee bli, Ba

   

SCATTERED BY THE TEMPEST.

CHAPTER VI.

A STRANGER ASKS SHELTER FOR THE NIGHT.

FAminrar as was Stam Weathers with every object upon
and about the coast in the immediate vicinity of his home,
and well as he knew the situation of every hill and valley,
and of every path through the thicket, yet it was a full hour
after he and his wife left the Whale’s Jaw before he succeeded
in getting into the path that led to his house, though the dis-
tance was less than a mile,

Upon reaching the hut and entering the door, he found that
the darkness within was as profound as that without,—not
even a coal was smouldering on the hearth.

The lid of the chest was raised, and the flint and steel and
tinder were felt for; then, after many abortive attempts, the
spark was caught, and it was not long before a tiny blaze was
creeping up through the handful of little dry splinters that
were bunched in a tangled heap in the middle of the hearth.

The instant the splinters commenced blazing and shedding
their feeble light around, Stam arose to his feet and began
peering about the room. Kate had entered the door, and was
sitting on the chest, leaning forward and holding her hands
over her eyes, for, having been for se long a time in utter
darkness, even the little, pale light from the hearth was painful
to them.

«“ Flow’s this?” said Stam. “I don’t see nobody here is

“ Nobody!” said Kate, starting to her feet, and looking
wildly around,—‘ nobody 2 :

« Who was here when you left?” Stam asked.

“ Who ?—Ike, and Peggy, and mammy, and Gilsey, and
baby, they was all here. Here's Gilsey in the bunk, but I
don’t see nobody else.”

«“ Look good, Kate ;. baby’s there with her, I guess. Look
good ; he’s little.”

“J don’t see him,” said Kate, in a frightened tone.

«“ Don’t see him!” said Stam, rushing forward ; “ to be sure

  
 
 
  
    
 
 
 
   
  
 
  
  
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
  
  
   
 
 

52 KATE WEATHERS; OR,

mammy aint gone and toted him off nowhere a nicht like this
and sick as he is!” 6

Just as Stam reached the bunk, and was stooping over
Gilsey and peering with all his eyes, a bright flame flashed
up through the bunch of splinters that rendered everything in
the room plainly visible. “ Here’s the youngun, Kate!” he
said. ‘Gilsey’s got him hugged up close in her bosom. See
how she’s fixed him ; she’s folded up the kiver and made a soft
bed for him, and she’s layin’ on the naked boards, holdin’ his
head on her arm. [ never shouldn’t thought o’ that. Say what
you will, but it’s just as nateral for gals to be mammies as it
is for minners to be fish! T’ll fix him that way myself next
time.”

The faces of both the man and wife were lighted with smiles
as they stood there stooping forward and looking down at the
quiet sleepers.

“ How still he is!” said Kate, “ It’s been a long time since
he slept that fashion.”

“ His head’s cold,” said Stam ; “it is mighty cold. S’posin
he’s dead! Gilsey ! Gilsey!—maybe, though, it ain’t nothin’
but his fever has left him,—Gilsey !”

The girl started, then stared wildly at the faces above her.
“ Don’t, don’t hurt him !” she said, pleadingly ; “he’s mighty
sick, and our folks is all gone. Don’t take the baby away !”

“Wake up, Gilsey,” said Stam, gently ; “don’t you see it’s
us? Where’s mammy ?”

“Qh, it’s you!” said Gilsey. “TI thought it were Ike and
Granny and Jim that had come to steal the baby away. I
dreamt they'd come and got him, and had gone off and kivered
him up in the sand, like dead ones is kivered !”’

“ Where’s mammy ?” asked Stam again.

“ She’s gone. Soon as Kate went off, Ike sot in to beatin’ her
and Peggy, and they all runned out, and I ain’t seed ’em since.
When they got out o’ hearin’, I shoved-to the door, and come
and laid down with the baby, and we went to sleep. None of
’em ain’t been back.”

“ How has it been with the youngun ?” asked Kate.

“ He had a mighty time of cryin’ and catchin’ when Ike and
them was fightin’, and I made sure he was goin’ to die, but
after a spell he got right and went to sleep ; after that he woke
up one time, but then I made a light, and walked him up and

   

   

   

  

SCATTERED BY THE TEMPEST. 53
down till he got to sleep again; ever since that I’ve had his
bead on my arm, and he’s been easy.”

“ You’s a good gal, Gilsey,” said Kate.

“God’s blessing be with you, good people!” said a man who
had come up to the door, and was standing there looking in
upon the group: “will you give shelter for the night to a
poor unfortunate ?”

At the sound of the voice Gilsey sat upright, and, folding
the child closer to her bosom, stared toward the door. Kate,
who had for hours past been in a state of continual alarm,
stepped nervously between the bunk and her husband, and
stood there peeping coyly over his shoulder. Stam stood in a
defiant attitude, grasping the hilt of the knife that he had not
yet drawn from the sheath in his belt, and frowning grimly
at the presumptuous intruder,—so were they all for some
moments in silence.

“ Who are you?” asked Stam, ‘“‘and what be you here for?”

“T am one,” the stranger answered, “ who has come to beg
shelter for the night from the merciless tempest. Will you
not permit me to come in and rest for a few hours?”

“Who are you?” persisted Stam, still maintaining his at-
titude of defiance.

“T am an unfortunate who has been cast upon the
beach ¥

“ What!” said Stam, relaxing his grasp on the hilt of the
knife, “has she come on? I didn’t look for nothin’ like this
yet. How long is you been ashore ?”

“T came here last night.”

“Last night? How?”

“ Permit me to come in, kind friend,” said the stranger,
“for I am very weary. Let me take a little rest beneath your
roof, then when I awake I will gladly tell you all you would
know; but I am very, very faint and weary now.”

“ He does look tired,” whispered Kate; “let him come in,
Stam.”

“ Come in,” Stam said, after a moment’s pause. “ How did
you happen to find your way here ?” ;

“ By accident,” the stranger answered, as he stretched him-
self at full length on the floor before the fire. “I have been
wandering about through the jungle for hours, hoping to come

upon a human habitation, but yours is the first that I have
5*

 

 
 

54 KATE WEATHERS; OR,

seen in all my wanderings; nor would I have found yours if
it had not been for the light shining though the cracks in the
house. I thank God that I am again in the company of
human beings, for all is desolate enough without.”

“ Ain’t you a hungry?” asked Kate. “There's some fried
fish and some ’taters in that pan there in the corner close to
your head; take and eat ’em if you wants.”

The stranger made no reply, nor even stirred.

“ You tell him, Stam,” said Kate ; “he didn’t hear me.”

“ There’s fish and ’taters in the pan,” said Stam ; “ eat ’em,
if you’re a hungry.”

But still no reply was made. .

“Think he’s gone to sleep in that minnit ?” asked Kate.

“ Seems as he has,” Stam answered. “It don’t take one in
his fix long to git to sleep when a good place is found for it;
but sleep’ll do him more good than wittles now. He'll be
ready for eatin’ when he wakes up, I’m thinkin’. Hold the
baby so, Gilsey, ’till I gits this kiver good and warm, then
bring him to me, and I'll set here by the fire with him. Lay
piety there, Kate, and go to sleep, for I know you're a
tired.”

“ There’s tea in the bowl, if the youngun should need any,”
said Kate, as she stepped up into the bunk. “If you needs
me call loud, for it won’t be long, I’m thinkin’, before I shall
be sleepin’ solid enough ; but the bowl’s there in the corner
close by yout.”

“TJ guess I shan’t want it,” said Stam, “ for Pve a notion
of tryin’ him without it a spell. His belly’s full of it half
the time, and I doubt if it does him much good after all.”

In a few minutes after Kate and Gilsey had laid down on
the bare boards of the bunk every occupant of the hut, except
Stam, was sleeping soundly. He sat on one of the low stools
in a corner of the fireplace looking down at times at the child
that he held in his arms, snugly wrapped in the quilt, then at
the careworn face of the stranger.

Strange thoughts came into the rude banker's mind as he sat
gazing down into the face that lay near his bare feet, with its
right cheek on the dingy floor, and with the firelight shining
full upon it. “Things goes comical,” he thought.“ Here's

‘this feller, wet as a rat, and tired and hungry besides, where
was he a week ago? Maybe layin’ in a snug berth, studyin’

   
    

SCATTERED BY THE TEMPEST. 55
about the great things he was goin’ to do when he got to his
journey’s eend, not thinkin’ that sich times as this was comin’
on. Maybe the whole ship and carger was his’n. What's he
got now? Nothin’, maybe, but the clo’s he’s got on, and
they ain’t been farin’ the best lately. I should guess, from
the looks of his face, that he feels like one that’s about to die
before his time comes; but then it 7s hard to have a whole
passel and lose it at a flash like. It’s well enough for him
that he didn’t happen to fall in with Ike or.Jim before gittin’
here, though, or like as anyway somebody’d been to bury to-
morrow. It’s like Kate says, ‘there ain’t much good in wrecks
for nobody.—Here’s the youngun catchin’ and pantin’ ag’in.
It's my belief’ he’s goin’ to die yet: maybe to-night.”

The baby screamed aloud. Its face became pinched and
dark, and its limbs rigid. Stam was about to rise from the
stool and walk with it about the floor, when the stranger
opened his eyes and arose to a sitting posture.

“ Your child seems to be quite sick,” he said, as he leaned
forward and looked into its face.

“ And so he is sick,” Stam said; “’bout to step off, ’m
thinkin’.”

“Will you let me have him?—possibly I may relieve
him.”

“No; I guess you needn’t bother,” said Stam, looking dis-
trustfully at the man. “I guess I’m holdin’ him all right,
and I can do more for him than anybody else, ‘cept it be Kate
or Gilsey, and they’re asleep, and so tired that I don’t want to
wake ’em up if I can git along without it—Maybe he'll git
better presently.”

«“T have a child,” the stranger said, “ near the age of yours,
that was a sufferer for months with a disease that reduced it
as yours is reduced. It got so low that even the physician
who had been attending it despaired of its recovery. Then,
as a last resort, I called in a physician who had the reputation
of successfully treating the diseases of children. This man
prescribed, and ina short time the child recovered. I kept the
prescription as a thing of great value, and have never since
left home with the child without having some of the medicine
along with me. ‘his,”’ he continued, taking a little tin box
from his pocket, “contains some of that medicine. T am no
physician, and am therefore not certain that your child will

   
 

 

 

 

56 KATE WEATHERS; OR,

be benefited by taking it; but T am sure that it will not
be harmed. Suppose you let me give it one of these pow-
ders ?”

After considering the matter a moment, Stam placed the
child in the stranger's arms. “ Try it, if you like,” he said;
“but it’s best you don’t hurt him! That stuff ain’t pisen,-I

uess ?””

oe Tt will not injure your child in the least,” the stranger
said. “It is soothing in its nature, and will dispose it to
sleep. The little one looks as if it were greatly in need of
rest and sleep,” he continued, as he received it into his arms;
“and I should say that it had been neglected. Have you
called in a physician ?”

“ A what ?”

“ Has the child been prescribed for ?”

“ Been what for?”

“ Has it taken medicine ?”

“Oh! now I see what you're drivin’ at. Yes, it’s had tea
enough to cure forty folks, seems to me. I should say, first
and last, it’s took a schooner-load 0’ tea, but I don’t see as it’s
done much good.” :

“ What sort of tea has it been taking ?”

“Well, now,” said Stam, “I don’t hardly know where to
begin to answer that ; it’s had root-tea, and bark-tea, and yerb-
tea ; tea made out’n gum-bark, pillentary-bark, dogwood-bark ;
then it’s had holly-root tea, snakeroot tea, injun-turnip tea,
blackberry-root tea, and rush-root tea; now as to yerbs, it’s
had skull-cap tea, catnip tea, stingin’-nettle tea, break-bone tea,
and sage tea; and ever so many cold drinks,—sich as feather-
few, rue, wormwood, and oak-o’-Jerusalem. It ain’t never
wanted for stuff to take. It seems to me, though, it's all for
nothin’.”

“ How long has it been sick ?” asked the stranger.

“ Nigh on to four months.”

“JT wonder,” said the stranger, “ your child had not died
three months ago! You may be sure it has a powerful con-
stitution ; I think it will recover. Will you treat it as I shall
tell you for a time?”

“Tn course I will,’ said Stam. “I’m willin’ to do the same
by you as I does by others; that is, I does what they tells
me.

SCATTERED BY THE TEMPEST. 57
“Then give it no more teas nor cold drinks until I say so,”
the stranger said. ‘“ Will you get me a teaspoon e
“ A what?”

“ Have you a cup ?”
Stam made no reply, but went and brought from the chest

a dingy mug. “ Will this do?” he asked. yee
“Yes; get a little water in it, and a stick to stir wit az
Stam did as he was told; and the stranger took one of the

little papers of white powder from the box and emptied it into

the mug ; then, after stirring it with the splinter, he gave it to
the child.

“ Now take the child and get him quiet,” he said, “then
lay him in the bunk; he will probably get some hours of good
sleep. At the proper time I will give him another pow-
der.”

Stam was greatly surprised at what he saw and heard, but
especially at the stranger's quiet and confident manner of
treating the case.

“ Follow my directions,” said the man, “and I think you
will find what I tell you to be true; your little one needs to
be soothed and quieted, and I think it will recover.”

The child was soon sleeping soundly, and Stam took it and
laid it gently in the bosom of the weary and still soundly
sleeping mother.

After standing and watching it a few minutes and satisfying
himself that it was doing well, Stam went and stood in the
door and looked out. ‘“ Why, here it is broad day !’’ he said.
“ Shouldn’t wonder if I hadn't better be gittin’ off,—like as
any way she’s beached before now.”

“ Beached before now !” echoed the voice of a woman, who
was coming up the path toward the hut. “ What difference
does it make to you whether she’s beached or not? If she'd
come on two hours ago, or if she don’t come on for two hours
yet, it’s all the same to you, so you gits there in time to bury
the dead ones. Sich as that, and totin’ that little ugly warmint
about, is all you cares todo! Stam Weathers! sich another
fool as you is can’t be found on North Banks |”

“And if you warn’t my mammy,” said Stam, as he stepped
out of the door, “I’d chop the lights out o’ you! Now look
a here; I was born upwards of forty year ago: I ain't far

from a man by this time, and maybe I can get along without
o*

     

   
 

 

 

58 KATE WEATHERS; OR,

you tdo. All you does is to cuss and rare on me and every-
body else when you takes a notion. You beats Gilsey, and I
don’t say nothin’, if she is my sister's youngun; then you
falls afoul o’ Kate; and it ain’t often I says anything then,
though she’s.my wife, and I knows she ain’t done nothin’ out
o’ the way: you sets in to cuss the little youngun that ain’t
never pestered you ; and you calls me coward, and is allus one
way or other makin’ game o’ me. Last night you fussed and
cussed till you got tired out ; then went off and left the youngun,
sick as it was, with nobody to do for it but Gilsey ; it mought
a died for what you cared ; and now, as soon as it’s light enough
to see, you've come back to cuss and make game and tell me
I'm a fool. There ain’t but one thing that’s kept your heart
in your body this long time but only that you’re my mammy!
Now turn round and go back to Peggy Strubl, or where
you're a mind to, for you can’t carry on here like you has done
no longer,—I tell you you can’t do it!”

Nancy, who had got nearly to the door, halted, and stared
at her son in mute amazement, for never before had he so
grossly rebelled against parental authority. A bitter curse
arose from her heart, and was on the lips awaiting to be pro-
nounced as soon as astonishment would permit those angry
lips to utter it; but the demon mother was reflected back to
herself from the blazing eyes of the demon son, and the curse
was held chained to the twittering lips. She turned and
passed away without a word.

Kate awoke in time to hear her husband’s last words.
“ What's the matter?” she asked. ‘“ What’s he been doin’?
Where is he?”

“Where is who?” asked Stam, turning toward his wife.

“The man that come last night. What’s he been doin’ ?”

“There he lays, Kate; he ain’t been doin’ nothin’ out o' the
way: it’s mammy that’s been here at the door. She’s got to
change her ways, too, or she can’t come here, that’s all !”

“ Ain’t he woke up yet?” Kate asked, as she sat up in the
bunk and looked over towards the stranger, seeming to attach
but little importance to the quarrel between Stam and his
mother. “He was mighty tired, and looked when he come
in as if he could hardly crawl.”

“Gone to sleep agin, as I live!” said Stam, who was now
standing at the fireplace looking into the stranger’s face.

SCATTERED BY THE TEMPEST. 59

“ Here he lays just like he did when he first come in. Don’t
take him long to drop off!” :
“Has he been ‘wake since he lai
asked.
“Yes; he sot up and give the youngun som
makin’ him sleep as if he was well.

“ Where's the youngun ?” she asked. » 4
« Where? Why ain’t he right there in your arms, Kate?
“That he is, sure enough! I didn’t know 1t. How come

he here ?”

d down there?” Kate

e stuff that’s

‘<T carried him when he got to sleep good, and lifted your

_ arms easy like and laid him in your bosom.’

“ What kind o’ stuff did he give him,—tea ?” hi
“No . white dusty-lookin' stuff that he totes about in his

i t the stuff
ocket. I got some water in the mug, and he pu i
sake that ‘ies stirred it up, and on frie a ieee Shouldn’t
der if it warn’t a goin’ to make him we .
be Merciful ‘heaven ig exclaimed the stranger, in a sar of
agony, as he bounded to his feet, and then covered his face
saa tie hands. “Lost! lost! lost! Precious ae ae a
children,—all, all lost ! ci my God! All lost! all lost
« What's lost ?” asked Stam. :
At the sound of the voice the stranger dropped his gp
and for a time stared in bewilderment. “ Ah,” he said,

: ’
“what a terrible dream it was !’ : .
“ Maybe,” said Stam, “ you've been havin’ a kind o’ rough

Bs pricy are how rough !’”’ the stranger said. “ ei nied

wife and children! has the dark angel indeed swoope ib

and snatched you all from me! Would that I had been taken

too |” : ,

ws folks drownded ?” asked Kate, in a feeling tone. |
Thaw bar, said the stranger ; “I left them on es ar
“Tf they warn’t drownded when you come off,” s “ = :

“ may be so they ain’t yet; and if they ain't yet, maybe they

wwe How did you git ashore?” Stam asked. “Was you all

that come ?” eae on
“T, with six others, came in the ship’s gig,” he said; “and,

so far as I know, I alone reached the shore alive: I have not
seen one of the others since I landed.

    
 

 

ccna cca etn

Ee. ee nee eee

 
 

 

60 KATE WEATHERS; OR,

“TI guess you was all,” said Stam, “if you come in that
gig; for I dragged up six yesterday and buried ’em in the
sand. But how come you seven to leave the ship that way ?
Why didn’t you stay by her with the rest ?”

“J will tell you,” said the stranger ; “for I know you must
think it strange that I should have left wife and children in
such a predicament.”

_ “As I live,” said Gilsey, speaking from the back aide of
the bunk, “here’s the youngun with his eyes wide open a-
laughin’ at me!”

Kate ran to the bunk to see the joyful sight. “Come,
Stam,” she said, delightedly ; “here he is, turnin’ his head
toward me, and laughin’ !”

“T can’t wait no longer now,” said Stam to the stranger ;
“you can say the rest of it when I comes back. When the
baby gits to frettin’, Kate, git this man to look at him, and
see if he don’t need more of his stuff. What he’s took has

done him a sight 0’ good.”

“T do not understand you,” said the stranger, with a puzzled
look.

“ What you give the baby a spell ago has done him good,”
said Stam.

“Still, I do not understand ;—what stuff ?”

Stam stared at the man in amazement. “ You ain't forgot
about takin’ some o’ the stuff out o’ the little tin box in your
pocket, and mixin’ it in the mug, and givin’ of it to the youngun,
is you?”

The man opened the box. “ Was it like this ?” he asked.

“Yes; that’s it,” Stam said.

“ Let me see the mug you speak of.”

“ Here it is; and you stirred with this splinter.”
“ Where is the baby ?”

“That’s him there in the bunk.”

“And I emptied one of these powders in the mug, and
mixed it, and gave it to your child to drink? When?”

“ Before day,” said Stam, staring.

“A better thing could not have been done for the child,”
the stranger said ; “but I have no recollection of it: I was

asleep. But continue to give the powders at the proper time,
and I think your child will recover.”

“ And you think he'll git well yet ?” said Stam.

61
SCATTERED BY THE TEMPEST.

} : i
“T have but little doubt of it,” said the stranger, “ if prope

with him.” Ayes
Bc Lala gs Stam,” said Len Curt, who was on hi y

4 You
through the path to the beach. “ Wi the matter?
ain’t been out yet. Is oe * pay TT gaat beak
“The youngun’s powerlu F

: * ”
been stayin’ around, sorter roy ti ae See ple ee
in’t no use to 5
ce ae agp a She’s a smart craft, Stam, and them
re ’

that’s on her knows h
her yet if the wind shou
ge ceo = The’s lights warn’t for much after all,” sai

per a fool! As if they didn’t know well enough what

it all meant, when they was in sight of weap range 1 —_
ni wht shut in yisterday ! Instid of bringin er the a
Tights helped to keep her away. That capns been along
before this time.” ie: :
wre well enough like it 1s, Stam cor P=
« What! Well enough she didn’t beac Ape cogs 8
“ Yes: and it’s to be hoped she wont beac : eg
de it ‘up in my mind, Len, that there ain't yr _ ;
at cks after all. What's the good? Some & . asym
te but what's it for? Then look at the oY a They
aa on: and look at the live ones, too, as Oe = a a oe
pee common enough while they're comin , an peghe phat
on, too; for if they ee ns es ae sb
= ’ keep it long, an
gpg pater to git back home where they come
Ee ro nd in Bae oy ko ot
i “6 enough it's hi! , rhe a4
— eer Piiogetoeins Wrecks ain’t much good, ee oe i.
snd sith to think of it, I don’t know if we air wha
wouldn’t be better off without ’em. T guess ga er Rink hee
dies last night? He says he’s goin He hts =
. Jpin’ with the .
he comes up by et Poe ba = “4 as ea a chance
ns ‘ he most fire comes from the

do it before long. Sometimes brani dy; but then things
flint that’s picked. T don't — to kill nobody ;

ld happen to shift to west’ard and

ow to handle the'tiller too. They'd save ©

|
.
     
  
    

T. 63
SCATTERED BY THE TEMPES

one. They both

’ dg d
: ] that’s lost and gon ‘em, an

about our little boy ae huggin’ and pn Botte up on
come to ie at woke up, I had my ame gh, but
TF inoh une wit ease d for ’em, but they was
my bosom, si here. I looked all aroun rh cls sollum, but 7
wc aie oe nothin’ but a dream ! -
gone; it wa

 
 
 

 

 
  
     
 
  

’ ; , Ip.
can’t help it, Stam.’ +. gone, and it can’t be holp
“Kate, them younguns eyhon so much.” by and
You'd oughtn’t to study about 4 ry And now, oe de 62
eathers will keep his !’ : “Yes, they’s gone,” she vaca't you stay here te I know
“ They say,” said Lén Curt, “ that Tke’s got a box-full of you should. Oh, ae that’s in the wreck ;
gold hid in the thicket, I guess some folks wouldn’t mind day? We don’t want no % stay. It’s
killin’ him to git that, would they, Stam ?” we don’t.” » said Stam, firmly. “No, I can’t stay.
Stam’s eyes met those of his wife. « Ts anybody minded “T can’t stay,” said Stam,
to kill Ike for his box 0’ gold ?” he asked.

  
 
 

I
if I should stay,

: oh Everybody on
f me, and pintin their

 
 

“Not as J knows on,” said Len. « Maybe you and Jim
Beam and Pete knows that better’n T

does.”
“Who has told you anything ?” asked Stam.

“ Nancy Weathers is the one. Ike’ll know it,—and then
the devil will be raised |”

“ Well,” said Stam, “she may tell it for what I cares, She
may tell it to Ike Drew hisself, and then j i

noised abroad what I done pee
shouldn’t never be worth a

in’ game 0} ; _ Drew.
Pe semper ee Lain’t afeerd of Ike Drew,
ngers at me

Ike _hisself
ver walked on two legs!
nor nary man that e

; Kate ;

im if I shouldn’t go, Kate

as afeerd of him 1 +: stayin’,

pil ary genoa ee anlar et york: Cae
there’d be no

at
then, for I’m goin 3 ve
than common, so as he

i did
oe yrs pi mamta away from us. You
whether I cares for them

he devil that, got’em
'd be to find out t
know, Kate, how glad I’d

 
   
   
    
 
 
 

i iN i lice Sila i

  
    
  
 
 

i
FS)
4
oO
2
3
Re
°
=
2G
oO
Es
5
oe
=
cst Salli lk

d of ain’t never showed _hisself on

It seems, though, that she
‘avin’ to lap up the blood of her whelp;
it now, for I swear she m

 
  
 
 
 

 
  
    
  
  

e or both of ’em |
h off, if it should be Ike we 1 pane re. this poe
’ y how *S ol 4
chance! yes, she may drink herself full |” tegen together. est oe not trimble pe aedigh stmt
Kate shuddered, for well she knew the man that was speak- slice ’em up little by ; ha, ha, ha!
ing. “Stam,” she said, in a choking yoice, « Stam——”

te.
aha adie 7 ra tem no more about them, Kate

if Leares for my little sick youngun,
i

for you?”
Ae Sac ms she leaned her

der and wept and sobbed, “I

“ Well, I hears you, Kate,
off.”

“The baby’s mighty sick

S’posen you was to die,
then ?”

 

in’ it!
Say quick, for I’m about to be when I was doin

; cin, you knows }

ine can Span know, ay :

“T knows you cares | a,
forehead on her husband 8 8

ou does.

es ery: don’t ery) =

- be a coward, sure ate i yi

even to touch Ike, nor nobo sb

now ; and I’d ruther bea a fa

I'll be one if you wants me ‘0, r

     
  

yet, Stam. S’posen he dies,
Stam, and wouldn't I be bad off

   
 
  
 

“Tl
” said Stam, tenderly. bel
ee par Don't ery; I shan :
se: that I won't. I ain’t ma
d than for you to take on mi"
but it'll be sure to sen

 
 

“No, it ain’t hard with you here.
then, ‘cause I knows you cares for me
but it would be hard if you warn’t here.”

“ But I 2 here, Kate,—now don’t be so sollum, for I is here,”

“T can’t help but be sollum, Stam ; last night I dreamt

I don’t mind nothin’
and your youngun ;

 
  
     
    
    
   

 

 
  

p it here, Kate,” said Stam, as he
drew the knife from its sheath, and gave it to hi

be I won’t be so apt to be a fool if I leaves it

“Is you ready to go, Stam?” asked Len. “I'm goin’ over
now.”

“No,” said Stam ; “T’ll be along soon.”
n went on, and soon disappeared around the bend of the
path, and Stam stepped into the hut. “I’ve come back,
i it’s noised about
8 seed yisterday mornin’ before it was

in his arms ; it’s thought to be Ike Drew, but it’s come into
my mind that you are him ; if it was you, you had best stay
in here and keep close.”

“Tt was I that had the box,” the stranger said, “and it
contains gold ; it is buried in the

sand; I can find it, and it
shall be yours if you desire it,”

“ No,” said Stam, “I don’t want it. But then it’s best for

or things mought go
» specially if what I knows should get noised
about. I’m goin’ off now, and no tellin’ when I ghall come
back ; but Kate will do what she can
should say you'd better crawl under th
till night comes on. You'll have to

somebody'll be kivered up in the
night!”

 

‘ ke ah Str eases

SCATTERED BY THE TEMPEST.

CHAPTER VII.
BOARDING THE SHIP.

THE scenes before Stam as he approached the sea on that
Morning were of such amazing grandeur and sublimity that
even he, the rude North Banker, paused a time at the shelly
brink of the reef and gazed wonderingly out upon the broad
expanse. The wind that was still blowing from the northeast
had lulled somewhat, but still the great ranks of billows came
rolling in to land, foaming and boiling and tumbling one after

another on the hard beach. The roaring and crashing and.

thundering were terrific. Thick clouds of spray were contin-
ually rising up from the bursting seas, and it was only at times:
that the coming wreck could be dimly glimpsed. But Stam
paused there not long, for he had come to see the ship, and not
to stand gazing in wonder upon the raging waters, Jockey
Ridge was about half a mile to the northward of him, and to-
ward it he turned his steps; for from its lofty summit he
would have an open view over the spray-clouds far out in
ocean.

He saw that several persons were already on the top of
the ridge, and he walked briskly on in the hope that he might

get there before their departure and learn their opinions as to *

when and where the coming ship would strand; for he had
Seen enough to know that her case was a hopeless one, and
that her certain destruction was only a matter of a few hours
time.

As he approached the group, his eyes met first those of his
mother (who, with Peggy Strubl, and Len and Sol Curt, com-
posed the assemblage), and instantly the mad fires of pas-
sion were kindled in the hearts of the untaught mother and
child; and fierce was their silent gaze at each other when he
came to a halt. But brave and fierce as was the mother, she
Cowered at last under the dreadful frown of her son, and turned

er sullen face seaward. ‘
6

 
   
  
   
 
   

—— lit

anal

ait.
66 KATE WEATHERS 3; OR,

“You needn’t look so powerful mad at her,” said Peggy
Strubl, “for nobody here ain’t afeerd 0’ you, Stam Weathers |
It ‘ll be Ike Drew’s time to look mad before night, maybe !

You needn’t turn your Sarpent eyes on me, neither, for I ain’t
skeerd,—I ain’t !”

“ Ain’t you ?” said Stam, as he advanced ra
Woman and dealt a blow with his fist upon
sent her sprawling back on the sand.
skeerd,—who has I asked to be skeerd
what’s it to me if Ike Drew looks mad or
stand it one way or other, as to that.”

“That's good enough for her, Stam,” said Len Curt: “she

and this other ain’t done nothin’ since you hove in sight but
to cuss you.”

“You're a liar, Len Curt!”
a liar !”

“Ts T, devil?” said L
upraised fist.

“Stop, man!” Stam said, leaping between his mother and
her angry assailant. “Don’t hit my mammy, Len!”

“ Make her keep her dirty mouth shut, then,” he said, “ or
T'll bust her head off !”’

Peggy arose: the blood was streaming from her mouth and
down her chin upon her bosom. The two women, grumbling
fierce curses, descended the hill together in the direction of a
group of ten or more persons who were standing on the beach
about a mile to the northward,

“Don’t you know, Stam,” said Len Curt, “that them two
women’s bound to kick up the devil to-day? Ike and Jim
and Pete is some of them that’s standin’ yonder on the shore,
and them women is strikin’ straight to’ards ’em. They're goin’
to let out what was did last night, Stam; and, when they do,
Jim and Pete's goin’ to lie out of it and put it all on you.

They ain’t after nothin’ but to stir up things to get Ike down
on you, Stam.”

“ Let ’em stir!” said Stam: «
wants to, takeit up! I know

want to stop ’em :—let em go! When the devil does get into
4 woman, sure ’nough, it’s like two devils together :—but let
‘em go, and stir too ‘maybe if they keeps ther eyes open
they'll have a chance of seein’ that I can stir, too !”

pidly toward the
her mouth that

“Sposen you ain’t
o’ me? Then agin,
not? I guess I can

said Nancy, fiercely ; « you're

en, as he rushed toward the hag with

and then let Ike, or whoever
the devil’s in ’em, but I don’t

|
|

 

T. 67
SCATTERED BY THE TEMPES

1 Stam : said Len, as he UW ned a po
There she 8, ’ tur nd inted

dasmart thing
red-tonner, a0
oceanward. “ She’s a five-hund

’ tiller knows

t's got the pe

’n that, them tha ; ie kal

at a — — hea as if it’s a pity elpin hand to save

. hag av

Sorel T wouldn't mind lendin em & like they are doin,
r 3

é tick to a thing they'd
mepets rage T just bilieve f they had a half a chance they
—its pluck.

han
1 ore canvas ti
work that craft clear across the sea with no m
”
what she’s got on now. j
“Tt is a pity for sich to a
I'd rather help to work her 0

‘ ion’s
9” : into his companlo ;
vu Board. that ship!” said Len, gazine ' Stam, there ain't

i ; “and
d,” said Stam; “ane
“on : Yeni her on. S’posin

ikes that
face as he spoke; “ dh together with bolts and spikes
never been nothin’ pu' ” ‘?
could live in sich a surf as that. «and I’m one for try

“Tt ain’t been tried,” said Stam ; nd with three more like

i ig’s a strong light thing, d through,—no tellin

a new a ad Sol she might be ae uld git capsized or
ou and me an San’ she should g

ti it’s tried. But then Spe io mought git ashore some-

in : ’s the
stove or smashed, we that we mought be tried. ane

breast of
how for all that: anyway, 1% keepin’ her along @
A rs ig: they re eep } unch her
ee a regen ‘ate to be did a be to lai
ship. ® cy
etd Saad out,—she mought be got thro ore P'll take one oar.
eg shes cai ‘he right crew can be got ; anyway’
It’s my b’lief she'll go if the mg
T'll be one.” ee 3
ie There's half a crew,” said Stam ;

e— . rth
ss Tk "Tre cd sat bow? mu Tke Drew would give all No
“Tke Drew !” sa .

. ts her.
hip like he wan at
5 it to wreck that § ‘ch them tha
aber — ante "cept it should be ig ain’t afeerd,
etch ales so she'd beach a nage ; %
. so: . re
b h Idn’t be after sauur oP “ he’d go, if it bebe’!
a? aa my head,” said Stam, hat you're & mind e
for fed ar hee the devil. pigat ae :
about Ike, but he knows what to do
afeerd o’ many things. ,
“There's Jim Beam, said per aginst you,
and Nancy behind him, agg!”

“now if Ike Drew'll

   

     
 
  
 
  
  

 
 
   

68 KATE WEATHERS; OR,

it in their eyes, and you're goin’ to find it so.
pintin’ to’ards you; and how mad Jim looks,”

“ What did you hit her for?” asked Jim, angrily, as Stam
drew near the group of ten or twelve persons who were stand-
ing near the gig.

“ For what I'll hit you for,” Stam answered, as he quick-
ened his pace toward the challenger; ‘‘ that is, for puttin’ too
much mouth into others’ bizness.””

“The man that hits here,” said Ike Drew, as he sprang
between the men who were about to engage in fierce combat,
“has got to hit clean through me first; and that won’t be
easy done, bullies, for I’m a tough one. See here, Jim, you're
a fool; Stam Weathers would hammer your liver into mush
in less’n no time. You'd both better save yourselves in good
trim, for there’ll be plenty to do bimeby when that thing gits
on. I guess this is one of your messes,” he continued, ad-
dressing che blood-begrimed woman ; “but you'll have to wait
a spell, for we ain’t ready for it yet.”

‘Jim ain’t no man if he takes it,” said Nancy, spitefully.
“Stam beat her for nothin’.”

Stam scowled darkly at the speaker, but said nothing.

“ He'd a done a good thing if he'd knocked her head clean
off,” said Ike. “ But see here, bullies, I’ve been studyin’ up
better work for you than this,—who’s got the spunk to under-
take with me to board that ship in the gig? It’s my belief
she ain’t comin’ on till somebody goes and throws them that’s
got the tiller into the sea; and I’m just the one that could do
that thing single-handed if I was on her deck.”’

“Tt can’t be did,” said Jim Beam ; “the gig wouldn't live
out there two minits; but even if the ship should be fotch,
like as anyway there’s ten o’ them to one of us.”

“ But it can be did!” said Ike; “and I don’t care if there’s
twenty to one,—all I’d want would be for this gig to git
there.”

“Do you mean it, Ike?” asked Stam. « Do you want to
try it?”

even if I shouldn’t have the luck to git back. I know one

thing, I can steer this gig through, if four’ll go to handle the
oars and one to bail.”

  

See Peggy

 
 
 
 

NR seamen oe = ne

 
 

J
SCATTERED BY THE TEMPES

“T'll be one,” said Stam.
“ Put me down for another,

” gaid Sol. ‘ are Q
“ And I'll be one,” said tho else? Where's two
“ Good !” exclaimed Ike. parson? waited a moment for

: in nor hi : roceeded to

gone! ~ a Galen but casper yee pants,
an answe _ keep 4

é the skin, only kee ists. ‘This done,
strip themselves to id. their waists. j

: rely aroul wales, an
nie ny ance. emo on w side, catahed the gunwsles
they ran 5)

. won't
repared for the launch. | n+ “hold, men ; four
f ‘Hol coe gran swe a good sea to run

Cy 29
. comin’ ?
Ain't nobody else "aul
screamed a woman,

the direction of the thicket,

’ said Len.

do. Come, two ee -
out on. Quick! quick !—ANn
“Oh, Stam! Stam ! et ?
m
rushing across the sands 10 “A
. don't try meee Ce pee ox turned his eyes toward the
‘Who's that ?” aske e,
approaching woman. e ; é
me It’s Kate,” said Stam, in a ——. turn back for all that.
as if she’s bringin’ bad news, ; scot
What's the pce now, Kate sens A = ””
“Oh, Stam, where has you sta th. * Don’t you Know
antin : as if "phe would Jose her breath. that surf Don’t,
you'll i drownded if you starts out 1m
wegen ts pean put together solid, and i ‘
* d? Kate, this gig _ pesgiaic
plate nat ride the seas like a didapper;
3 ?
and shove her through.”
“Don’t start out!’ Kate =
minnit in that sea, Stam, age
“ Git out!” said Ike Drew.
won’t you be here to bury ee ss
“ Kate,” said Stam, in a W ~—
hear you but me. I'll tell you W

< p put
out to try to save that ship! Pig
ei on to save her, Stam? Ike Drew 8

: us does; and,
= don’t want to save her, but the ag é te pi by
ra va ones whe ee ca ee me and Sol’s after
; i en
—that is, if we should git there.

savin’ of her, Kate, sh-———

. “She wouldn't live a
= ety be drownded ! “tr
hat if heshould git drown

td
he washes up
— “talk so as no one can t

“9

;

: We're goin
it’s about. ere g

ry to save

    
 
   
  
 
  
    
   
   
    
   
  
   
  
  
   
  
     
 
   
   
  
 
 
 
  
  
  

    

70 KATE WEATHERS; OR,

“Ts that it,” she said,—“ after savin’ of her? How can
you save her, Stam ?”

“It's this way. Them that’s at the hellum has been havin’
ahard time. They can’t stand it much longer, and we could
spell ’em, if nothin’ else; but we can do more. What she
wants is another jury-mast and more sail. They ain’t got no
time to put one up, even if they was strong enough,—which
they ain’t,—but it wouldn’t take us long to have a mast up
amidships and a sail bent on it, don’t you see? Ten foot of
canvas more would save her, Kate. If we gits that on her
we can let them that’s there rest and sleep while we are
workin’ her out in the offin’; then, after they gits a good rest,
they can take hold agin’ and go off with her, and we can git
in the gig and try it back, don’t you see, Kate ?”

Kate stood in silence a time looking down, then, raising
her eyes to her husband's face, she said, “It’s best to go,
Stam, maybe so she can be saved; but who's goin’ besides
you four?”

“Don’t know yet. Two more’s needin’: one to take the
other oar and one to bail. I guess it won’t be long before the
crew’s made up. Is the stranger under the bunk yet? Jim
Beam’s goin’ to be left behind, and you couldn’t do much
good for him if Jim and Pete should find him out. Tell him
he’d better stow hisself close under there.”

“He ain't been under the bunk yet, Stam. He give
the baby some of his stuff after you come off, and it
warn’t no time before the little thing went to sleep, and he’s
been asleep ever since. He’s goin’ to git well, Stam, I do
b’lieve it!” ;

“ What’s the man doin’, Kate? I tell you he’d better——”

“ He ain’t there, Stam.”

“ Ain’t there ?”

“No. Soon as he got through doin’ for the youngun I
told him a wreck was comin’ on. Then he turned as white in
the face as that-foam, and asked me to tell him all about her,
and I done it. I told him how she looked and the fix she was
in, and that she was driftin’ in nearer and nearer and nearer.
All the time I was tellin’ him he didn’t do nothin’ but walk
back’ards and for’ards across the floor and groan and wring
his hands. Then, when I got done tellin’ him, he dropped
on his knees and clinched his hands and raised ’em up and

  

TEMPEST. 71

. he riz
; ‘thevhouse. Then
o’ards ne gaat door and down the path

afeerd that maybe Ike or Jim

to the sound
mought see him, so I followed ; but when ‘ BOF al lick yet.
shore I seed him way up to the nor'ard gor A ao but
ac gaat ea sn avenge lost in the thicket,
IT ain’t seed him yet. 1 guess

t f dreadful

pape got a good mind,” said The psc = with it, you
> e 3

oath, “to take this oar and beat* your 0? Ain't there two

ows ils! Ain't none of you goim # SiN oy
a aoe per a man’s heart? Well, mg ze puts his
git she’s our ship when she comes, and the de

t’s square !
hand on a thing I'll cut his heart out! Now that's sq

Ain’t ther’ two more ?” : into the boat.
“ T'll go,” said Kate, as she sprang nimbly into
“ T'll go and bail, Ike.” } '¢ go!”
“« Rus ” said Stam, in astonishment, : Si ‘ae Se buckit
«Yes, let me go, Stam,” she said ; nm then one more’ll
and bail as good as a man. Let me go, an
do.”

ith an ai ¥
Ike looked upon the brave woman psy go,” he said :
admiration. “Yes, let her go, Stam, ‘e i

“she’ll give us luck.” %
“Can you stand it out yonder, pou
ing towards the raging sea as he spoke.

stand it?” . i] as well
“ Yes yes,” she said, “ T can stand * 5 arta how

asa man. I know how it is out there; but y

can stand it.” are, «jf you can
“ Well,” said Stam, in a hesitating pogo buckit

stand it, set down there on the after ete fall Wait till I

ready; but, Kate, you'll have your han

A Fam thwart,—*®0 ;
makes another hitch of the buckit-rope round the :

: for there's plenty
now take a turn of the rope round your ee your face to ards

of it; there, that’s it. Set down pee ve al’ready to go at it

the starn and hold the buckit so, an

whe starts.” : together, you
«She's worth the whole litter 0’ you ee in

devil mud-suekers !” said Tke, a8 he pul "00 Uno bullies,

place and lashed it to the ring ™ Ornre:

SCATTERED BY THE

looked up a spell t

in a great hurry and run 0
to’ards the sound. I was

  
    
    
         
     
  
         
 
     
      
         
       
        
   
           
  
       
     
    
      
     
     
   
         
     
     
        
        
      
     
        
      
    
       
      
    
 

 

 

  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
  
 
 
 
 
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
  
 
 
 
 
 

42 KATE WEATHERS; OR,

put the oars in place, and see that the row-locks is all solid,
and everything’s right. There, is all ready ?”

« All ready, sir,” Stam answered.

“ All ready, but one man’s lackin’,” said Ike, as he sprang
toward Jim Beam and held aloft the glittering knife that he
snatched from its sheath as he sprang; ‘(and now git in there
and take the left bow oar, or I'll chop the lights out 0’ you!
In, you devil !—in now!”

“No, Ike,” said Stam, “don’t put the dog in here, or we'll
all be drownded, sure. We @an shove out, maybe.”

“ Who's that yonder, comin’ in such a hurry?” asked
Sol.

Tnstantly all eyes were turned in the direction in which Sol
was pointing. A man who had emerged from the woods was
approaching at full speed. It was the stranger who had slept
at Stam’s house on the night before.

“Who are you?” asked Ike, in great amazement, as the
man, who was almost out of breath, drew near. ‘ What sand-
fiddler’s hole did you pop out of?”

“ For heayen’s sake do something for her relief, if possible !”
the stranger said. “ All that is near and dear to me on earth
is in that ship,—dear wife and children! Help! help! oh,
save them, if possible, dear friends !”

“Do you know what you are talkin’ about, crazy fool ?”
asked Ike. ‘ Where did you come from ?”

“Qh, try to save the precious souls!” said the frenzied
man. ‘God will surely reward you for the brave deed! Do
something! oh, if possible, do something for their relief!
Say, brave men, that the ship may be boarded !”

“ We're aimin’ now to board her,” said Stam, “and all we
lacks is a man to take that oar.”’

“J will be that man,” said the stranger, as he darted for-
ward and seized the oar; ‘I will do the full part of one.”

“Hands off that oar!” said Ike, in a commanding tone,
“Sich as you ain’t fittin’ for this kind o’ bigness; stand
away !”

“Let me but have the opportunity of showing to you how
fit I am,” said the stranger, “and you shall see your mistake.”

“ Well,” said Ike, in a milder tone, after he had scrutinized
the man, “I guess we'll try you; but first thing, jerk off them
purty clo’s. This,” he continued, ashe slapped his naked

    

|
|

 

 

SCATTERED BY THE TEMPEST. 7

. 9,
breast with one of his great horny hands, “ is the kind of clo’s
we wears when sich bizness as this is to be done. | er

Instantly, and without reply, the stranger rend MD ade
clothes, only leaving on his pants, which he ban = ~~
around his waist, as he observed his companions

theirs. “ Now Tam ready,” —— :
“ Tt’s my belief,” said Ike, “that you W
first. sea Pee you'll wish you hadn't started. But, ig:
; ky, I'll agree, and that’s more than I can say!
youre spunky, grec, Be ready with
these cowardly whelps that stands around. ici sowie Tae
your buckit, Kate ; we're goin’ to run out on an te “4 cin’
sea, when it busts and starts back. Set solid, for it a by nd
tobe slow travellin’ that'll take us over the first brea ag ey
it won’t be oncommon smooth, neither. Take the aft pros a }
you, white-skin, take the next; Sol, your'n comes ae a d
Len must handle the right bow. Kate, I’m thinkin et
best git down on your knees right here in the bottom 0 in
boat; you needn’t mind the water, neither, for it aln ‘ en
to be long before you'll have plenty of it all about you. aid
ac ee ee open, men ; look sharp, and hear me whe
calls. ready now! Here she :
Then, like a shooting-star, the Nght gig glided down “—
the receding flood; Kate and the brave steersmar shee
posts in the boat,—she, on her knees, holding the bucket in
her hands ; he, standing firmly near her, grasp1ng the cae
oar in his right hand and steadying it with his left, watching
the torrent sweeping down before the bow as if in a al
race with the slender craft, glancing out at times upon the

troubled scenes before him, yet ever watching the receding

flood, the coming billow, and the course of his eraft; the four
Jes, running down

men,—two on a side,—clutching the gunwales, Mi!

with the boat through the yet shallow waters until is heard .
steersman’s sharp command, “ Aboard!” when, within * d
stant of time, each man is upon his thwart, with oar in hane,
and bending to the stroke.

The charge is a brave one, for, .
stands like a emerald wall lining the yellow rte pom
craft has descended the slope beyond, and is safely BS h Pas
it; nor is she seen again until, with ne lad
towering ramparts fall and leave her all unmasked a hu

yards at sea.
D ‘ i

when the next sea comes and
  

 

 

74 KATE WEATHERS; OR,

A moment she is seen: another height is scaled, and she is
lest again. Another billow crashes on the shore. Two hundred
yards away, wrapped in a cloud of spray, the gig is glimpsed.
She gains the summit now; now, as a chamois struggling
through the drifts on Alpine heights, she plunges through the
foam, then disappears again. Another roar; yonder away the
little boat goes climbing up the steep; her bow shoots higher
than the mountain-crest up which she aims: the oars, the
thwarts, the oarsmen’s very feet are seen by those who stand
on shore. So are they hanging at the precipice, when at the
shore another green wall rears and hides them from the view.
That billow leans: it falls; the breathless watchers at the
shore are looking still; the gig has disappeared !—not lost !
Still farther out she climbs another steep !

So dares that little craft to meet the raging tempest in
the teeth; and so away, away she creeps from land,—a hope
forlorn that dashes on, fearless of frowning foes, though death
may be their chief.

Faithfully every oarsman was performing his duty; con-
stantly and rapidly the bucket was being plied by Kate;
bravely stood the dark-visaged helmsman, keenly watching
every sea that approached, and so shaping the course of his
light craft as that she might ascend and descend with greatest
ease.

When the far-out reef was reached, the swell was found to
run even higher than near the beach. Ahead the helmsman
sees coming three monster seas, one after another: the great-
est danger will be passed when their heights shall have been
scaled, and he that stands at the helm encourages his men.

“ Hearties,” he said, “be strong now; the worst is ahead,
yet: here comes three big brothers, rollin’ and foamin’ to’ards
us; be ready to shove her when I calls, and we'll go through ;
then, when you sees them ugly swells rollin’ along behind us,
to’ards the shore, we shall be all right, for no more won't
come like them. Here’s the first one! Shove her now,
hearties !”

That first great monster began to curl over its frothing head
before it reached the boat, but she shot through its boiling
spray and descended safely into the deep valley beyond.

Kate had a hard task now, not only with her bucket, but to
keep her place in the boat, for the sea came rushing and foam-

 
    
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
  
 
 
 
 
 
 

|

 

SCATTERED BY THE TEMPEST. 75
Ing over the aft part of the boat,—even over the kneeling
bailer’s very head. But as soon as it had passed on she re-
sumed her work with such earnestness, that before the second
Sea came on she had thrown out barrels of water, and again
the gig was comparatively free. :

“That’s a brave gal!’’ said the steersman,” encouragingly.
“ But stick close there, Kate, for here comes the next one.
Shove her ag’in, hearties! There, she rises like a duck!
Soon we'll be over it; shove her, hearties !”

_But never spake Ike Drew again: the rushing billow burst
with all its fury upon him, and he was swept away with the
boiling torrent.

Kate, who had been grasping the thwart before her and
holding to it with all her strength, now brushed the blinding
waters from her face and looked up. Ike was not there !
Nothing was there but the steering-oar that dangled in its
ring! Instantly she sprang to it. There sat the oarsmen
still upon their benches laboring: their heads were hanging
low so that the briny waters might quickest stream from their
faces, for no hand could be spared now to brush those waters
away. The third great billow was at hand; the boat was as-
cending its slope; her bow ran into the thick clouds of spray
that were rising from its tumbling crest. “ Shove her,
hearties !” cried Kate, “Shove her one time more, and we
shall be free !”

Tnstantly, at the sound of that woman voice, all eyes were
raised. Obeying the command, those strong men leaned back
with all their might upon their oars, and as they did so gazed
silently , more in wonder than in fear, until another flood came
dashing on their heads, Ay, they gazed wonderingly: for
there stood Kate at the awful post, gazing anxiously towards
the Watery mountain as it came rolling on, and shaping with
Steady hand the course of her craft through frothing foam and
Smothering clouds of spray.
ee a watery avalanche that billow’s hoary crest came

ie ae down ; yet firmly still the steersman held her post ;
fine sr sage hands ceased not to grasp the steering-oar ; her
the reo Poder towards the driving flood. And when at last

own the ae shot from the cloud and glided like a meteor
dark aie Slope into the green abysm, there still she stood, her
streaming back, her scanty garments rustling in the

     
    
  
  
  
  
 
   
  
  
  
  
 
   
  
   
 
 
 
 
 
  
 
 
  
  
   
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
   

 

16 [ATE WEATHERS; OR,

wind: there stood she still, with both hands on the oar ; still
gazing anxiously and steadily ahead ; still guiding on her craft
to meet the ever-coming seas that now, though smaller far,
were towering mountains still.

“Thank God!” said Stam, as he leaned back to the stroke
again. “Thank God! You're a true thing, Kate !”

The brave captain ceased not an instant her earnest gaze
ahead. In her deep anxiety she seemed not to have heard
her husband’s thanking words. “Lively, lively, hearties !”
she said; “the ship ain’t far away. I sees the tired ones at
the helm: they reel and stagger! Oh, no; they’re only on
their knees! ‘They’re on their feet ag’in. There! one turns
loose a hand and beckons us to come. Lively, lively, hearties |
lively ! we'll save her yet!”

“We can’t help you, Kate,” gasped Stam. “If one o’
these oars is dropped, we're gone; we can’t help you now.

Can you hold her to it, gal?”
“Strong and lively, hearties !” said Kate. “ A little longer,

—so; we'll fetch her in another run; and here we go down
the swell! Once more,—so! we’ll save the ship !”

It was not long before the brave little captain and her crew
were on the ship’s deck, and the gig was swinging high to
the davits.

 

CHAPTER VIII.

THE MUTINY OF PEDRO AND HIS BAND.

Axovut the middle of the eighteenth century Paul de
l’Anzanne, a native of Southern France, took shipping at a
French port and proceeded to Louisiana,—which at that time,
and for a long time afterwards, was a French possession, —
intending to make that part of the New World his home. Paul,
though a poor young man, .was strong and active, and, better
than all, of a glad, hopeful disposition.

Not many years had elapsed after his landing at New Orleans
before he had, by his industry and frugality, accumulated
enough to purchase a large tract of low land not many miles
from the city. The lands were of that class usually called

ene oy ne ee

H
4
:
;
;
2

 

  

SCATTERED BY THE TEMPEST. [7

= bottom-lands,” which, though heavily wooded and remarkably
tich, were in that day generally considered next to worthless.
Not only was Paul a man of excellent judgment and shrewd
usiness tact, but he was also, to a very great extent, his own
adviser ; and it was seldom that he made mention of his busi-
hess affairs or of his plans to any except a very few of his most
intimate friends. But these all advised against his purchase
of those wild, wet lands. Yet for all that the purchase was
made, and the very last dollar of the little sum accumulated
paid out. By the purchase he became a large land-holder.
His territory extended for miles along the Mississippi, and had
an average width of from five to six miles; yet there was not
a single square foot of the whole of it but that was subject to
annual overflow. At certain seasons of the year, it is true, the
whole of these lands were high. and dry, and then they pre-
Sented the appearance of being susceptible of cultivation, but
the same lands that at one season of the year were elevated at
least ten feet above the river level, would at other seasons be
submerged to the depth of ten feet or more. One thing in
Paul’s favor was, that the lands were paid for, and another,
that the yearly taxes charged upon them were so small that he
had no difficulty in promptly paying them. So, still he labored
on, always cheerful, always hopeful. é
As the city extended and became of more and more impor-
tance, and when emigrants began to pour in in great numbers
and settle not only in the city, but in the country around, much
began to be said ‘about diking the lowlands, so as to protect
them from overflow. A few wealthy individuals tried the ex-
periment on a small scale, and it proved abundantly successful
and satisfactory. Bottoms were reclaimed and made into
Splendid farms, and then the city bade fair to be at no distant
day one of the richest and most populous in America. Prices
for bottom-lands advanced higher and higher, until Paul made
Sale of his to a company of capitalists, at a clear profit in ready
— of two hundred thousand dollars. ‘Then it was that his
riends admitted that he had acted more wisely in making the
Parcbase than they would have done, and that his judgment
48 as reliable as theirs at least.
aul de l’Auzanne was not one to become insane or be

pat? @ fool of b f f He had
y any such good stroke of fortune.
Planned for all this in his own quiet way, and when the good

ae

 
 

 

8 KATE WEATHERS; OR,

fortune came,—though so suddenly,—he was by no means sur-
prised, for the result was as he had expected it would be sooner
or later.

The money that he got for the sale of his lands he forthwith
invested in real estate in the city, and the lots that he pur-
chased here and there in different localities he set out to
beautify and improve. The result was, that the actual profits
from these investments were greater than those from the river
lands. And so, within the period of twenty-five years from
the day that he had first set foot upon American soil, he was
one of the wealthiest men in the city of New Orleans.

Paul had been living at his new home but a few years
before he married a girl who, though as poor as himself, had
a genial, kindly disposition, much resembling his own.

The fruits of this marriage were eight children, all of whom
died in infancy except Pierre, the first-born, and Adele, the
youngest, a bright little girl, who had not passed half through

. the third year of her life at the occurring of the circumstances
presently to be related.

Both the man and his wife, happy and glad as their life
was, had a longing desire to see again with their own eyes
the hills and dells, the fields and vineyards, and the bright
rivers of La Belle France. Once again they desired to visit
the scenes of their early childhood, however brief that visit
might be. Then they could return, with hearts knit closer to
the beautiful land of their adoption beyond the wide waters,
and be happy and content during the remainder of their lives ;
they could then bid farewell forever to the dear old mother-
land, and feel henceforth that the place they had voluntarily
chosen to dwell at would be sweet home for them.

Many a time had Pierre sat upon hig father’s knee and heard
him relate stories about France, and describe the scenes and

tell of the incidents of his early life. The bright pictures that
the father at such times spread out before the son were ever
fresh, ever living ones to that father; they faded not, nor ever
became dim or indistinct. Ah, how bright, how enduring are
memory’s tintings! The outlines in the distance may be dim,
but how soft are the lights, how delicately are traced the
shadows within them! And every light, every shadow, and
every hue and tint is a faithful representation of that which
was real,—aye, of that which és real.

+ veomemmaatadnan

ease ae eS

i
7
+

 

SCATTERED BY THE TEMPEST. 79

Paul's pictures were of happy spring-time,—spring-time

that was endless, deathless, unchilled by frosts, unmarred by
tempests : spring-time when sky and river were blue ana
Placid, and when hill and vale and mead were covered with
green and flowers. Scenes of peace they were, of endless
beauty , upon which was never swept the besom of relentless
Winter,
_ Pierre delighted to listen to his father ; and as he advanced
in years, he too began to love the dear France that he had
never seen, and to feel that he too must in time be a pilgrim
to its beautiful shores. ;

At last the time came when Paul de I’Auzanne began in
earnest to make preparations to visit France. A csigat 5:
Was then fifteen years of age, was at school. Adele, as has
been said, was an infant, not yet three years old.

Paul's plan was to leave Pierre behind at school, and to
make arrangements while in France for his education there ;
and then, upon his return to America, to send him over, to
remain until his education should be completed, or at least for
a number of years. ae

Jules d’Arcourt, a man of about the same age as Faul,
who was born and grew to manhood in the same village with
him, and who came with him in the same ship to America,
had from early childhood been Paul’s bosom friend and com-
panion. This friendship being mutual, the two young men
were more like brothers than mere friends. The plans and
designs of one were as well known to the other as to himself,
and wherever one went the other was apt to be seen.

The general plans of the course to be pursued by them
when they should arrive in America were arranged months
before their departure from France ; and after their arrival,
their friendship grew into a deeper and more sincere affection,
If possible, than had existed before. And though Paul mar-
Tiled and became rich, there was never any change 10 their
friendship and affection for each other. Jules did not pratt
fo r he felt that he could better advance the interest of his

vend and his fumily by continuing single, gal

Jules d’Arcourt, too, was a man of sound judgment ; ¥

1€ too was to some extent successful in business and in the
“cumulation of property. But he desired the success of ve
"lend above all things, and his only object in increasing 18

 

     
    
   
  
 
 
 
  
 
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
  
    

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80 KATE WEATHERS; OR,

own wealth was that Paul and his family might be benefited
thereby.

So passed along years with the two friends; never lagged
or lessened their sincere love and affection for each other.
And now that Paul had come to the determination to visit
France, Jules, as a matter of course, made his preparations to
go also; and when the day for the ship’s departure arrived,
he was promptly at hand and embarked with the rest.

Not many days passed before the broad Atlantic was reached,
but never was the noble ship to reach the shores of La Belle
France. Weeks, months, years came and passed; yet no
tidings came of ship or crew or passengers,—all were lost.
Year followed year, and still no tidings. Paul and his wife
and child, and Jules, and the officers and crew, and the ship
and her cargo,—all were Jost !

Pierre grew to manhood and became a successful merchant.
The large estates that he had inherited grew continually
larger, and yet the city of New Orleans had not a kinder,
more charitable, open-hearted, generous citizen than Pierre
de l’Auzanne. He was a feeling friend to the afflicted and
destitute ; his hand was always open and ready to administer
to their needs, and his. great heart had always sympathy for
their distresses. The sick and sorrowing, the widow and
orphan, ‘the oppressed and down-trodden, could better have
spared any man in the city than Pierre de l’Auzanne.

Pierre married when quite a young man, and in time he
was blessed with four children—two girls and two boys.
Lucie, the eldest of these, was a bright girl of thirteen at the
time that her father, following the example of Ais father, made
preparations to visit France. Paul was about to enter his
eleventh year, Murat was seven, and little Adele was not
quite eighteen months old.

Never lived there on earth happier husband and father, and
never had happy husband and father happier and more affec-
tionate and loving wife and children.

Marie, the wife of Pierre, was one of those noble Christian
women whose chief delight is to render glad and happy all
those with whom she may come in contact. A halo of lovely
light was always about her sweet face. Her home was ever
cheerful and-peaceful, for she was to her husband the sincerely-
devoted wife; to her children, the gentle, loving mother ; to

neice ge

|
;
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SCATTERED BY THE TEMPEST. 81

her friends, the frank and generous woman ; and to pies

vants and dependants, the kind, indulgent mistress.

return, all loved her with a pure and tender love. f his
Pierre had never ceased to sorrow at the sad fate te bee:

affectionate parents and little baby-sister. A seagrt" they

not hope that they would yet return. It might be

had been picked up at sea and taken by the ressuers to one

t
very distant land; in which case they would not be able to

return for a long time. He had read of sock cn Ae
mi : in this instance jake:
ight it not be the case in this ot reasonably hope

had passed without any tidings, he could m heir loss
longer,—yet never could he vease to mourn & th t his father
Well he remembered the stories about France tha

had so often related to him ; and the older he grew, the eld
became his desire to visit the scenes of the dear Lage id pest
hood. . Marie, too, had hope that at some time ~ — bes
France ; for she, too, had heard much said about t e ea a
of her fathers, and it was with feelings of great gla wr ee
she heard her husband’s announcement that se ‘robability
ship at an early day for Europe, to be case aise

a year. eer. i
year, or even longe d since the departure of his

Twenty-five years had elapse 4 . ippi
father tae caster. when Pierre and his family took shipping

for France. The day of his departure was one Jong to be
remembered by ae the dwellers in the good *y at ai
Orleans. A great concourse of people ageelen 1 : a from
to witness the sailing of the ship ; and as she was loose were
her moorings, those that she was about to bear spre sens
greeted with many a “God bless you! ponder ‘4 awa,
heard and many a sad tear fell as that multitude turne y
omeward.
The ship had been three weeks on her way, and was far at

: th-
Sea, when she was overtaken by a furious gale from cae

SI ic i that point for three days.
st, which continued to blow from Pp ee ee

She was driven hundreds of miles out of her ¢
the American coast. For much of the time during that three

A les.
days she was either lying-to or scudding under bare po
Many of the spars had we badly shattered by the ——
it was determined by the officers to steer oe es at in
Not only for harbor, but to have the ship repaired ane’ P

ase
& condition to proceed safely on her way. But here ar
D*

 
    
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
  
 
 
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
  

 
 

 

 

 

   
 
 
 
 
 
  
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
  
 
  

82 (ATE WEATHERS; OR,

confusion,—where was Chesapeake Bay? The best they could
do was to guess of their whereabouts, for the storm had been
upon them so long, tossing and driving them about here and
there beneath the cloud-draped sky, that an error in calculation
of even hundreds of miles would be a very probable thing.

After running for twenty-four hours in the direction,

as they supposed, of Cape Henry, the storm increased to
such fury that the foremast and mizzen-mast were carried
away; and this rendered it necessary to cut away the main-
mast. Then one of the ship’s yards was set up for a jury-
mast, a small sail was bent on, and she went laboring heavily
on.
For a whole day and night following these sad accidents
both officers and crew kept in good heart and continued faith-
fully at their posts, for all were satisfied that the coast was not
far distant now; and even if they should fail to strike Cape
Henry by ever so much, with the wind as it stood, they
could run on up the coast and find a harbor somewhere.
Pierre remained on deck most of the time, doing duty as a
seaman before-the-mast, and always ready and anxious to obey
orders in doing whatever work might be assigned to him that
was in his power to do. This ready action on his part seemed
for a time to give new hope and strength to all ; for all knew,
at least by reputation, who the new hand was.

Marie continued calm and quiet during the whole time, and
many a time when she could catch the opportunity she would
whisper words of comfort in her husband’s ears: “Strive on
and hope on, Pierre, and cease not to trust to the mercies of
God. He has sent the storm. He can bring the calm.”

When the darkness of night came on, on that day that the
ship’s masts were carried away, they laid her to, and waited
and watched until the coming again of daylight. But still no
land appeared. Night came again, and again came day, yet
no land. It then began to be observed that some of the crew
were becoming insolent and not disposed readily to obey orders,
Pedro, the third mate, a gigantic, grim-faced Portuguese, was
first to set an open example of insubordination by positively
declining to obey the order of a superior, and then defying
him with oaths and angry words. After this it was observed
that he was continually holding sly conversations in an under-
tone with individuals of the crew, who, in a little time, if

  

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_
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SCATTERED BY THE TEMPEST. 83

they obeyed orders at all, did so sullenly, and only through
fear that the plot which was being laid might prove to —
Successful, and not as a matter of duty. — ce

Though Pierre knew well what was going on, poate Tif
whispered the matter to his unsuspecting and ee the
for he thought it would be time enough to inform her of the
dreadful secret when things should come to their worst.

As the officers were kind to the men, he could a no
motive for the mutiny except to plunder the ship, ~< =
to make their escape to the shore; and, believing that te t
Picions in this regard were correct, he determined to att ge
to make all right by offering large rewards to the crew ;
faithful service. Forthwith Pedro was sought, and : es
proposed that he should have one thousand dollars, and eac
one of the men five hundred ny . heh mers oe :
duty and lend a good hand to take the ship into port.

. Whose is die money ?” Pedro insolently asked, after hear-
ing the proposition. i

8. I ieeehae not with me,” Pierre answered, “ but I will
arrange for you to get it immediately upon our agi he

“rance, or, if you prefer, when the ship shall return to

“How much have you along with you?” the ringleader
asked. of : i

“ Only about two thousand dollars ; which is in Spanish gold,
and which I am willing now to place into your hands as an
earnest,”’ Pierre answered. : ae

“Get it!” said Pedro, in a commanding tone, “ then we
May talk more about what you propose.

Pierre brought from be cabin a small chest; but by the
time he had returned to the deck with it, every one of the
disaffected had gathered about Pedro, and were anxiously in-
quiring what it was that he and Pierre had been talking
about, ‘

“ Here in this chest,” said Pierre, “are the two thousan
dollars ; the balance I will make good, as I told you.

“ And is this all you have?” Pedro asked.

A Every cent; but the balance shall be paid in the same
coin,” ‘

. “Take this box to the forecastle,” said the leader, address-
™g one of his men in an imperious manner. “ Now,” he

aerials

salsa i
 

 

 

 

84 KATE WEATHERS; OR,

continued, as he turned again to Pierre, “so far as your pro-
posal is concerned, we may have more time hereafter to talk
about that.”

The officers of the ship, who had been silently watching
the whole transaction and listening to what was said, were
well-nigh dismayed at the result. Sixteen of the crew of
twenty-two had joined with Pedro, and the captain, two mates,
Pierre, and six of the crew were confronted by the powerful
desperado and his sixteen supple followers.

The mutineers, after Pierre’s money had been taken,
marched forward, and were for some time engaged in consul-
tation. Angry words and terrible oaths were freely used
among them ; but at last they seemed to agree, and, forming
in a double line, they marched back aft, with Pedro at their
head.

“ We have had some trouble at agreeing on all points, cap-
tain,” said the ringleader, in a tone of insolent familiarity.
“T and four more were for cutting the throats of every one
of you, and so bringing the whole matter to an end at once ;
but the others say that we shall take what we want from the
ship, including all the small boats, then put off to land and
wait for the wreck to come on. Now, while I still think that
mine is the better plan (for it will amount to the same thing
in the end, as the wind is hauling northeast, and will no
doubt keep there long enough to land the ship), yet, for the
sake of peace, I have agreed to the compromise, or rather, I
have agreed to concede my point and go with the majority.
And now, sir, we have come to learn what the rest of you
think about the matter, and what course you intend to
take.” i

“You know very well,” said the captain, coolly, “that we

can offer no resistance, and that we are completely in your
power.”

“ What arms are on board ?” asked Pedro.
“Here are all the keys,” the captain said; “and as the

steward is one of your party, he can inform you better than
Tecan. Look for yourselves.”

“ Are there money and jewels and other light valuables ?”

“ You have the keys ; search for yourselves.”

“Steward,” said Pedro, “ get the arms together first ; send
them forward as you find them, then get together the money

 
 

}
1

 

  

   
   
  
 
 
 
 
   
 
   
  
 
 
 
   
  
 
 
  
  
    
    
 
  

SCATTERED BY THE TEMPEST. 85
ard. You six men, swing

and valuables; take them also forw st of gold in it, and

that boat to the davits; put that little che os aad oak wee
what you want to eat and wear, then be 0

there until the rest of us come. The wind is sie pin
for the shore; it is near by, and you may are oa “OW morning
The rest of us will leave this evening or she agen: Bear
early. We will fetch along what may be wort papectc for
a little to the leeward as you g0, for you pest at the land.
the ship’s drifting, and we must get all 7. u are not close
Mind, you have no share in the balance 1! y h. for this ship
by when we come. Don’t keep off too much, ater as the
Wwon’t move ten miles to s’uth’ard in ten arse va! there from
wind stands where it is, and it will be apt to pe

two to three days.” And in a

“ Ay, ay, sir!” said the captain of the oe let down
few minutes the boat and her crew were ready

into the sea. F fore the

Pedro sent his gang forward upon some beyge es had
departing of the boat, while he alone aries ueht to terms;
hope still that the discontented might be bro favorable pro-
and with a view of making another and gene was about to
position, he went and stood near Pedro, a toward him:
Speak, when the ringleader turned savagely

““ What is it now?” he asked. “
tye F at we may y'
“T have come,” said Pierre, “in the hope th

. ”
come to terms and settle this difficulty. ‘wey “Tt is
“T will hear nothing more!’ said the man, se riled.
on your and your family’s account that my PN Ci mb up
You shall not remain on the ee avis na te
into this boat, for you shall leave with t ee sl
Pierre was astounded ; such a thing “d.
of by him. “You are a man,” he sald. a
you have a wife and children ! Burely a
me from mine at this trying time! is knife
“ Get in!” was Pedee's only reply, as he snatched hi
from its sheath, and on ee
Well did Pierre know the utter 10!
will obey your order,” he said; “ but wal OR DE

. 7
me to take leave of my family ? inut
“ Get in,” said Pedro, “or in less than ten minu

feed both you and your nary» the sharks !

at the miserable man.

of resistance. ~~
folly " first permit

 
 

 

 

 

 

 

86 KATE WEATHERS; OR,

Pierre got into the boat that was swinging over the decks,

and Pedro went forward to direct his men.

The miserable man was sitting with his face toward the

ship’s bow. He had not heard the step of one who
proaching from the cabin. Marie was at his side:

her sad face was as pale as the mountain snow.

“ Adieu, precious Marie!” said Pierre; “we shall meet

again. Adieu!”

“ Yes,” she said, firmly, “ we shall meet again, my husband !
we shall meet again! Trust in God, Pierre!” She kissed his

cold forehead and returned to the cabin.

The mutineers approached. Pierre saw that they were now
all heavily armed. He uttered not a word: he wept not. All
- Was now with the merciful Father. The six men got into the-
boat, and she was lowered into the sea. Instantly she shot
from the ship’s side and passed away and away landward,—
sinking and rising with the swells, until she was lost altogether

from view.

It was Pierre de ]’Auzanne that had sought shelter from the

tempest in Stam Weathers’s rude hut.

CHAPTER IX.

ASLEEP IN THE THICKET.

WHEN the boat that contained Pierre shot off from the
ship’s side and took her course landward, Marie was in the
cabin, kneeling beside the berth in which Murat and little
Adele were sweetly sleeping. Lucie and Paul were in the
adjoining berth, and they, too, were asleep. The terrible
excitement and alarm that they had been in for several days
and nights past had deprived them of rest; and. now they
bade fair to sleep during the remainder of the day, and pos-
sibly also through the coming night.

The kneeling mother was looking out through one of the
little square windows in the ship's stern as the small boat
swept on by. Still upon her knees she remained, and watched

was ap-
her loving
arms embraced him. She had heard and seen all, and now

 

y 87
SCATTERED BY THE TEMPEST.

from her,—

the boat passing ever farther and nt Pye i
how ascending to the billows ak aes pearin
from view, and again appearing and Cs i melted in the
dwindled in the distance to a speck that so
dark horizon. ilent as one

Bthe ‘danke no exclamation; nay, she et rere
dead as ghe kneeled there with seat gee the time; but
Not a téar welled up to dim her eyes f ye deep afilic-
oh, the agony at heart of that loving pie d bting trust in the
tion she. was only consoled by her un husband, in the
mercies of God. "And well she knew that ei the trials and
same confidence, would battle nobly aga fang
adversities that were now so sorely be ag again made her

Rising from her knees after a time, § nobly at their

h S
way to the cabin-door and looked out. peg six faithful

posts, stood the captain, the two — forward part of the
men. The mutineers were still in ¢ . and several of them
ship; they had found a cask of liquor, tterly. indifferent

j : w

were drinking and carousing seemingly The leader and
to the fate of either themselves or ne decks with arms in
several of his gang were pacing ing insult to those who
their hands, and taking aorgnis erm = :
were silently performing their duty. of beastly ine-
those who Rad been drinking were ak pers
briation, rolling about on the decks wi

i day of
ai, & the early dawn of the morning that followed the day

ation, when
the outbreak the mutineers had a sc the boats
it was agreed by them to leave the ship as §

could be got ready. ; to whether
Two stat sar remained. A question arose ve

h boats, or
it were better to divide their numbers “ a the otber.
to destroy one of them and the whole 4 last; one of the
The latter course was determined kpc an nthe woe son
boats was launched over into the sea, an d. Several packages
to the davits and made ready to be lowere ns, a cask of spirits,
of valuable articles, a quantity of provisio a er things were
all the arms that could be found, and som ere ready to leave.
placed in the boat ; and now the ar ead bi disputings louder
A short conference took place, durig whe

and fiercer than before were heard.

o until it
5)
 

 

 

 

88 KATE WEATHERS; OR,

“T have given in once,” Pedro was heard to say, with an

awful oath, “but I don't intend to do it ever
they shall go! Don’t you think that those we lea

would cut the ropes and tumble us into the se
not in the boat with us?

in the boat with them.

Up to this time Marie had borne her afflictions bravely :
but now, at the sight of the grim face that was scowling upon
her, and at hearing the brutal command, her heart failed her,
and, snatching her babe from its bed and clasping it to her

bosom, she sank swooning.

It was long before she returned to consciousness and found
that she was in the boat and holding her infant still clasped
upon her bosom. Lucie and Paul weré on each side of her:
they were crying and sobbing; and little Murat, with his
arms around her neck, was sadly weeping,—tears were stream-
ing from his eyes and bathing the pale and silent face of the
mother : the little mourner doubted not but that she was dead.

“Where are we, dear children ?” asked the mother, in a
feeble voice, as she opened her eyes.

“Dear, dear mamma,” said Paul, “are you alive? Oh, I
am so glad! so glad! so glad !”

Lucie did nothing but press the sweet, sad face to her
bosom, and sob more bitterly than before.

Murat ceased: crying the instant his mother spoke, and sat
looking wonderingly through his tears into her face. “You
are not dead, are you, dear mamma?” he asked. « You couldn’t
talk if you were, could you ?”

“No, not dead, precious children,” she said: “and T pray,
that Our Father will still spare me to be with you.” Then
she glanced around upon the watery wastes as the boat was
passing over the top of a lofty wave, and yonder, miles away,
was the ship rolling and plunging in the sea. She was head-
ing in the opposite direction, for now her. safety depended
upon keeping away from the land that for several days past
she had been aiming to reach. And here were the mother

and her children, in the power and at the mercy of a gang of

eleven bad, fierce men, climbing from billow to billow in the
little boat, and aiming they knew not whither,

ry time. I say
ve on deck
aif they were

I say again, they shall go!” Tm-
mediately after saying this he went to the cabin-door, and, look-

ing in, ordered Marie to take her children and prepare to leave

;

 

 
   
    
  
 
 
  
  
  
  
  
 
   
   
  
 
 
 
  
  
 
  
  
 
 
 
   
 
 
 
 
 
  
 
 
  
 
  
  
  
 
 

89
SCATTERED BY THE TEMPEST.

k, drear
ame on,—dark, dreany

The day passed: dark, dreary ne ae hours but the wil

night, and nothing heard during its es nt rumble of oars in
tumult of wind and wave, and the consta'

Jy made. An-
the rowlocks as stroke after stroke Beg aap Ar came 0D ;
other day came and passed ; another dreary M5

: t. But
" increasing tempes
still, on they went through the 9A aia day before the

it was not long after the dawn of the bald hills
dinoutine of land was seen ahead; and eewrier sa thetiant
and green thickets of North Banks arose up i of land before
It was but a few hours after the first art. h a d,
the little boat, guided by Pedro's ma i eliding and plung-
high rolling surf near the shore, and wen aia sweeping with
ing through its foam and deluging 2 fe peti
the speed of a rocket high up on the y lieved when she was
Greatly was the poor, weary mother ilar en upon the land.
told that she could step forth with her : nd hefore her was &
She knew not where she was. The /a of those dreadful
desolation. She knew not the eae was, came gleam-
men ; but yet a ray of hope, faint thoug ‘4 ven here in the
ing into ri bosom: those might be progetet: Pierre him-
barren desert, to sympathize with her; aye;

: od ones.
self might be near his loving and — sar ‘until we take the
sh Sit here,” said Pedro, harshly, to het;

cing to make a
freight over yonder into the woods. bay eh T shall come
tent there with this canvas, and when 1t ht with a set of “
for you. You shall keep company reins that so, Frangois ?
jolliest fellows that ee atin gi seas angered pie et

“True, every word of it, : t she an
boisterously ; wheat I should say, me are taken over
tribe had better sit here until all these ; drizale is doing no

- and put under shelter; for this see ene nile Business,
good to our provisions, and arms, a0 age « how long we
you know, always before pleasure; nO hip, and I should say
shall have to stay here waiting for wes : ‘place like this for
it would be a lame thing to depend on @ P
supplies.”

vt a are right,” said Pedro. ees
Yourselves: let us get the age. 7 ,
the tent; the next thing then W! his kind lady will =
out of this brandy cask. No doubt this

: : round ; or, if
here until we get a drink or “4 . .
 

 

90 KATE WEATHERS; OR,

will call her to join us when we get the tent up and the

things stowed.”

“ No, no, captain,” said Francois; “let her stay here until

we get a drink or two around, for brandy has a be
when the women are out of sight, you know.”

Roars of laughter followed this, and the men went at their

work with a will.

Marie, with her children, sat down as she had been ordered.
She spoke not, but only sat there vacantly looking on as the
men carried package after package away, until nothing of the

freight was left, and she was there alone with her little ones.

“ Where are we going now, mamma?” asked little Murat ;
“are those bad men going to kill us? Oh, where is papa?
where, where is dear papa? Are they coming back to kill
us, Mamma ?”

“Tf they kill us, dear little boy, God will take us to heaven,
and we shall be happy there.”

“Mamma,” said Paul, “ they are all gone now; can’t we
Tun across yonder and hide in the woods ?”

“Oh, see, mamma!” said Lucie; “what does that mean ?”

Marie looked in the direction that Lucie was pointing, and
there, standing on the ridge behind which the mutineers had

carried their things, was a man, who was waving his hand in

an excited manner, as if to attract their attention. As soon
as he saw that Marie had observed him, he pointed to the

southward with one hand and beckoned them away in that
direction with the other.

“Oh, come, dear mamma,” said Paul;
that man is telling us to do!”

Thoughts passedrapidly through the mother’s mind. What
could this mean? Certainly no good was intended ; and yet,
might it not be that they would be able to get into the woods
and escape? Possibly people lived in there; they might yet
be saved !

“Take Paul's hand, Lucie,” said the mother, “and fly!

wait not an instant: I will follow with the little ones. Fly,
precious children, fly !’’ :

“Jet us run away as

“No, no, no, mamma!” said Lucie and Paul, together; “we

cannot leave you! Let us each take a hand of Murat, and

then you will have only Adele. Come ; come, dear mamma,
and let us go from this dreadful place !”

tter taste

 

91
SCATTERED BY THE TEMPEST.

vy hurried

Cold and stiff and drenched as they ab ef eyes

rapidly away. The frightened ee ty to see the men
at almost every step, expecting continually

ouring on in pursuit. - had understood
. When the ba on the hill saw that they ha

ie d disap-
him and gone, he descended into the valley beyond an

peared. : her children went rap-
Nerved by constant fear, Marie ao i fire, and Lacie aud

idly on, she ever encouraging them d sometimes even dragging
Paul urging on the little brother, oa sto now taxed beyond
him along,—for his poor little fee

their endurance.

“ Lucie, child,” said Marie, “do ge
the babe a little way, while I take the
arms ?” r er so strong ;

“ Yes, yes, mamma,” said Lucie; “ I wa ain
T can take her and go as fast as the pig aes arms, and took

Then the mother placed the babe in 4 e they struggled on.
up Murat into her own, and so for some ay Marie to the well-

“You cannot carry her farther, sale I will try to take
nigh exhausted girl; “give her to me;
them both.” was too grea

She was not long in learning that Lope d fall at every
for her, yet she went tottering on as 1 Py aa little ones for two
step. So struggled on the corpse’ f human habitation
or three miles. There were yet no ax . oe desolate and un-
to be seen; the scenes on every han a shadows fell gloam-
friendly. Twilight came creeping hi a canopy of cloud that
ing over the barren coast. The thic w becoming
'y fugitives

think you can carry
is little boy in MY

ay was no
had been dreary enough even at noonday

: fore the wear.
black and dismal, and naught was - if it were not for the
?

but fearful uncertainty and unrest.‘ in her charge
hope of again seeing Pierre —if the ery res friends, —how
were but in a place of safety, and he laid herself down on
gladly could the sorrowing mother gale was otherwise, and
those cold sands to die! But God's Wi g

sh et longer. cu twas

“ rine ca pre children,” said oe rsanneps se
and Paul; “hold each other by the hand a soy? le
to me, for it will soon be so dark that we §

into
and here 10
€ven to see one another. Let us cross over may

  
   
 
  
  
 
 
 
   
  
   
  
 
  
 
  
     
   
   
   
  
     
    
  
   
   
   
 

92 KATE WEATHERS; OR,

the woods, for our pursuers will not be apt to find us there, at

any rate, during the darkness of the night.”

“ Don’t ery so, dear buddy,” said Lucie to Paul, who was
sobbing bitterly. “God won’t let anything hurt us: maybe
we shall find papa in the woods, too. “Don’t ery, dear buddy.”

“No, my precious little boy,” said Marie; “ for if you make
a noise those bad men may hear it. I fear they may follow

us even to-night.”

“ Oh, mamma,” said the boy, “T can’t help it when I see

you suffering so! I wish I could help you, but I can’t!”

“But do not forget, my brave boy, how important it is to
be quiet now. I will try to bear up until we get into the
woods, and then we can all rest.”

How that mother reeled and tottered as she made her slow
way across the soft sands of the reef with her heavy burden !
How she struggled and gasped for breath before the dark wood
was reached! But at last it was reached ; her weary limbs
could bear no more, and she sank to the ground, holding still
her two little ones, who were now fast asleep in her arms.
Lucie and Paul nestled close to her, and in a few minutes
they were all sleeping soundly. And so profound were the
slumbers of those loving ones that not even the mother was
aroused by the piteous screams of her babe when it awoke.

The child screamed aloud for some time, and then dropped
to sleep again. The mother, who had not once stirred, though
the piteous cries were ringing in her ears, awoke soon after

those cries had ceased at the sound of a mere whisper,—
“ Here they are!”

Marie started to her feet with a loud scream,

“ Lady,” said a kindly voice, “ friends are near you.”

“In heaven's name,” she asked, “who are you ?”

“T am Frangois, lady ; one of the ten who came with Pe-
dro. For heaven’s sake be quiet and hear what I have to say.
Jeannot, another of Pedro’s band, stands at my side, and is
only concealed from your view by the deep darkness ; no others
are near. For hours we two have been seeking you,—not to
harm you, buf to render you service; and had it not been for
the screaming of your child, I am sure we would not have
found you. I speak the truth, lady: we are here to protect
you and your children from harm.”

Lucie and Paul and little Murat, who had been clinging in

a

Re i eaten itive

 

 

the man’s words, breathed more “Oh
mother was still apprehensive of the page be merciful to the
she said, in an agonized tone, “ will y x our lives? We fear
weak and sorrowing? Will you ig pis brave men !”
not death. God will — yen ri Ponca: « put before the
“You trust us not, lady, sal to protect you
ee God ee L swear oe a a gree it is hard
ee ee bs the followers of that on
ve you,
man would follow you to serve you, and gp before the
ble; but I have spoken truly; and again urpose is good. My
great Being whom I, too, serve, that sgh ” i
body shall be a wall to stand pyirote
on one hand, and violence and disho ou cannot; but trust
cannot understand this now,—I gat Ps is spared to us yet
me, lady, you will understand it if li

a little longer,” ther, “have you
Ol: kind ones,” said the RO0e ae God indeed sent

indeed come to help and befriend us

Us succor ?” : is. in a low voice.

“ Be quiet ! ho quiet \? said ivy to eer the succor
“Lady, your case is still a terrible one, ¢ ding, and God only
at hand: the worst calamity of all is pun romise safety to
knows whisk the end will be. M6 for yourself.”
you, but only our assistance. Speak, f high heaven to be

“ Lady,” said Jeannot, “ I swear be ann helpless innocents,
the friend and protector of yourself - a if necessary: God
and I am prepared to die for you and them,

‘ d no
dro, we have ha
knows that, though we have paren "fellowed him only
?

art in his brutal plots and desig world we are
that we might ea you. In the an oe of honor,—
payee ye saa tter than men, and in
Wretched criminals; but God knows be t of honor to occupy
his sight we have stepped from one Y it is a terrible word
another more honorable; for know, ae One ship will yet be
to say), there is greater probability ¢ he utter ruin that 1s
Saved ‘than that you will escape from
Impending !”
4 What can be done?” gasped th
are men; we are weak and utter

an. “ You
e frightened woman. fie
ly defenceless 5 oh, save US,
  

  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
  
  
    
  
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
  
 
 

94 KATE WEATHERS; OR,

 
    
   
    
   

then! save us, save us, if possible! Remember that I am a
wife and mother, and that these innocent ones are friendless
and helpless. Remember zi

“Hish! For God’s sake be quiet!” said Francois. “Those
are now near at hand who have been seéking you’ for hours!
They seem to be coming directly towards us. Do you not
hear them? That loud laugh is Pedro’s! Quick, quick, and
let us go! Quiet, children! Speak not now, but keep near !
And, lady, see to it that your babe frets not !—They have
passed on! How near they came!”

‘What can be done?” asked Marie, when the band had
gone on by.

“ Let us remain quietly here until they get farther away,”
said Frangois, “then we must push farther back into this
woods with all haste. But forget not the necessity of being
quiet and cautious, for even the cracking of a stick might
betray us. Some of those men are crafty and watchful, and
they aré most of all to be dreaded, for they will lose no oppor-
tunity to accomplish the work that they have deliberately
planned, and that work is your ruin. There are two of these
men worse than all the rest, and Jeannot and I have had it
difficult to keep these in place; nor could we have succeeded
except by constantly watching them, and by practising decep-
tion, and by calling in the brutality of Pedro to our aid.
To-day, after we had lugged the things over from the boat to
the woods, the cask of brandy was opened and drinking com-
menced. Jeannot and I pretended to drink and to be as
merry as the rest, though we tasted not a drop. I was not
long in making the discovery that these two crafty men were
practising the same deception as ourselves. They carried this
on until they supposed that all the rest were too drunk to
interfere, and then under one pretence or another they made
several attempts to sneak away. But though I pretended to
be as drunk as the rest, my eyes were continually upon them,
and every attempt they made to escape was thwarted. But
finding my task to be a difficult one, I at last called the matter
to Pedro’s attention, and so worked up his revengeful spirit
by leading him to believe that the two had laid their plans to
murder us, and were only waiting for us to get into a condition
not to be abie to resist them, that forthwith he ordered them
to be securely bound. I then told the chief that I had been

 

 

 

   

 

SCATTERED BY THE TEMPEST. 95

watching them, and that they had not tasted a drop of the
Spirits, but had only been pretending to do so; the truth of
which I took it upon myself in a sly way to induce them to
confess, representing that Pedro would surely murder them
unless they did so, and unless I should use my influence to
obtain a pardon for them. After they had confessed, liquor
was brought, and they were compelled to drink a double por-
tion ; the consequence was that in a short time they were in a
more helpless condition than any of the rest. It was I that
you saw standing on the hill beckoning you away, and after
you had gone, Jeannot and I stole chances to go to the same
place and watch until you had passed from view. Night had
come on before the men began to arouse from their stupor.
Then they remembered you, and with whoop and yell they
started across to the boat, each trying to outdo the rest in the
race. Jeannot and I came this way, and after searching in
every direction for two hours, heard the screaming of your
babe, and so discovered your whereabouts.”

“Oh, what is to be done now?” said Marie. “ Where can we
go to escape them ?” 5 :

“We must hurry away,” said Frangois. “ Listen !—the
faint sounds of Pedro’s yell. They seem to be circling back
in this direction. Come! for Christ’s sake loiter not! Let me
take’ your little boy, and Jeannot the babe: the larger children
can take our hands. Sh! Be quiet and have courage now,
lady. Take the girl’s hand: she has mine; we will lead you on.
Ah, we are now in a path and can go faster. Keep the bearing
of those yells, Jeannot.” ‘

Not a word was spoken as they hurried rapidly up the path.
They had not gone far before Francois came to a sudden halt.
“ Hish !” he said, in a low voice. ‘ Let us crouch here together
at the side of the path: I hear the sounds of voices near by.

“T hear them,” Jeannot whispered. “TI can discern on the
dark sky the outlines of the roof of a little house : it is near
the path, and we have passed it by without seeing it.

“Yes, it is a house,” said Frangois, “and several persons
Seem to be near it. Do you not hear their voices?

“Oh,” said Marie, “we may find rest and shelter here for

the Weary little ones!” :
“ Let us remain here quietly,” said Frangois: “ we may learn
Whether it would be prudent to halt and ask shelter.
 

 

 

 

 

96 KATE WEATHERS; or,

The voices were of both men and women.
least four or five of the persons.
the door, and though they spoke i
were at only a few yards’ distance
‘what they said.

“There! they’re comin’ this way,”
wonder what the meanin’ of it is!”

“TI know,” said another: “it’s a gang of drunken devils
that’s got ashore from that wreck,—that’s just what it is.
Don’t you hear em, Jim ?—they’re comin’ true this way. You
and Pete had better git your guns ready, for may be so they
mought be needed. ‘Them devils is drunk enough, and there
seems to be a passel of ’em, too.”

“It's the ship’s crew,” a man answered, “and what's the
need of guns sich a time as this? [ can see through it all:
Ike has beached her after all,—that’s it. Ike knowed what
he was doin’ when he raised that other jury-mast. You see,
when he got to the ship.he found more of ‘em than what he
had counted on, so he takes another course: he raises that
jury-mast and rigs it, to make ’em b'lieve he’s all right; then
he takes the hellum, and lets them that’s been hard at it so

long go to sleep ; but when they got good to sleep—don’t you
see ?—he chugged as many overboard as he wanted to, and kept
the rest to do the wreckin’ to-morrow. That’s like I’d a done
it; and that’s just the way it ought to be did, too! Ike knowed
what he was doin’ when he was runnin’ that ship out,—it was

een havin’ her in the

world. Well, you see he’s got em on shore, and they've all got

drunk,—him into the bargain,—and that’s what’s the matter

now. Seems to me they've crossed the path and is makin’ on
by to’ards the s'uthard. Listen : I'm goin’ to call. Ike!”

Jim Beam was standing out in the gloom and darkness be-
fore the door of his hut when he called. The sound of his
deep, powerful voice reached even farther away through the
roaring storm than Pedro’s mad yells had done. No answer
came ; but instantly the yell and whoop and boisterous laugh
that had been heard away in the thicket were hushed,

“ They’re listenin’,” said Jim, “to know which way the eall
come from. I'll make ’em hear me good now. Ike!”

That call was followed by a sudden and unusually severe
gust of the storm that came howling through the thicket. Tt

There were at
They seemed to be about
n a loud voice, those who
could scarcely understand

said a female voice, “T

 

SCATTERED BY THE TEMPEST. 97

i ing
was one of those fierce flaws that — —. oe ihe
down from the black skies, through pcos os iy oe
pest, and then wing away with the speed o “oleate
Such a gust followed that second ne Ts fe
scream that, as it came, was continua arm os arama
scale of the gamut; and then, as it — . tes fio Ratage
descended lower and lower and lower, until i

f other sounds. ” ‘s
Bar cea Mas that, Peggy Strubl?” asked a woes

i n the wind howls to-night!” _
: crt Pose genie ‘em get on board the ship eg Be
eyes,” Pegey Strubl answered, “ I should a — gether
that Ike Drew had got drownded in the eek ir n
that howl was his spirit answerin Jim 8 call ps hell. ee
“ Hush now!” said Jim; “I’m goin’ to ca masa Ske
Loud peals of devilish laughter answered this m ¥ so
d his ey had heard the calls before, and ha ary
silently oe within a few rods of the hut when Jim calle

Be eaeed were those who had been standing at the door

i d into the hut
ing the demoniac peals, that they darte ths 3
pty rea the door as well as they — but Fm on eg
i hose who were de
was not sufficient to keep out t 7 Arapeet
ith yell and whoop the drunken gang

ac a ‘the slender door was shivered into fragments,
tered. 3

oe vd et that followed the women pri eo - -
ting out, and Jim and Pete alone were left to fight ou

° ?

ld. ;
ar ey “il oe ons Marie and her children had continued

ide of hey had barely es-
ing at the side of the path, where t ‘
etre we degra underfoot by Pedro and his men when

the wild assault. ies
yo Epes: pao sea of this confusion and leave,” said

F . “3 } ] ” TI h
rangols, for not a moment 1s to be ost. en t ey arose
and hurried on up the path, and ina little time emerged from

ic the sound shore.
= deals they surprised at seeing the broad waters before

them; for they supposed that they were going ay ee ms
farther back into a dense forest. For a time they knew

where to turn. 2
E
 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 
  

 

 

 

 

 

 

   

 

98

 

KATE WEATHERS 3; OR,

“ Now I remember,”
Carolina coast, and thi
inland seas of that St:
a boat, Jeannot. If we can

The two men left. Marie an
Went, one up and the other
boat. But Jeannot had not

turned and came running bac
have found one already |”

The boat was anchored in the shallow water a few rods
from the shore. In it were found the unshipped mast, with
mainsail and jib furled upon it, sprit, rudder, tiller, oars, and
bags of sand for ballast ; and nothing was to be done but to
ship the mast and rudder, spread the sails, draw the anchor,
and away.

Tn a few minutes more the wind-puffed sails were driving
the little craft rapidly away through the deep darkness to-
wards a land unknown to any of the fugitives,

“Hark!” said Jeannot, when they had got out a little from
shore. “ What cursing and yelling! And see that light !
Have they not fired the hut ?”

Marie and her frightened children looked back towards the
shore that they had just left. The light increased rapidly,
and soon flames were seen bursting up above the stunted tree.
tops, lighting the shores and glimmering upon the gloomy
waters. The boat had got too far away for them to hear the

sound of voices; but a number of human forms were plainly
seen in the glare emerging at different points from the thicket

and speeding away up the shore ; and foremost of all were

two women. But these were not seen long, for, turning their

eyes back and seeing that they were followed, they darted
aside into the thicket and were seen no more.

Gradually the flame decreased in brillianey, and at last it

sunk down from view below the trees; and again the shores
were dark and dreary.

“ Poor creatures !”” sighed Marie.

8 water before us is one of the

find one, there will be hope !”

d her children standing there and
down the shore, in search of a
got a dozen rods away before he

k. “Come, quick,” he said; “JT

  

said Frangois: “ we are on the North

great
ate. Let us search along the shore for

SCATTERED BY THE TEMPEST. ; 99

CHAPTER X.
GILSEY ROE.

GinsEy was sitting on the chest, with her hot oe
back against the door-post, during the car! _—— pies
was telling the stranger about the wreck in g;

5 .

ibing i i him. ;

el oy Gileey Boo! ‘She was a forlorn, Sree
‘00
thing that morning. Her long towy smn waa o rid
reater state of disorder than usual. On y Ys oe
3 eat brass buttons on the back of her frock bo A ne te
oe bottom ones) were buttoned, so that, whenever 8 _ rie
about, much of her — ap ie tiga fi Si — ‘geca
t there now, with her yellow leg

reagan § wide enough open to receive a ped og: aad
wressi into the stranger's face,

ing out of her expressionless eyes in ;
ee iaie indeed as if she were what her Sone often in her
milder moods told her she was,—nobody s gal. res

But Gilsey was an orphan, the child of a daugh Q fae
who had been dead a long time, the child of a mg . °
drowned while wrecking, when she was an my Per:

years: she was, therefore, only one in a long lis * oot 3
ce * Poor Gilsey Roe! She had a kind er ong os
ths. lived that little weazen-faced baby as well as s
e. a
atid es had heard every word that Kate hoe a pies
about the wreck, but for the life of her she cou bionic
it was that the man should carry on as he was pty teri
her part she was glad that the wreck was gard Daca
she ze ected to get anything from it to the va . = pak oh
even ink it might be loaded with _ ran Pra
i ys such a quiet, peacefu ,
aight albeny Fe At such times he 2) Oe
body's s somebody’s; for at such t
obody’s gal as somebody's ; : 0
_ a to be gone from the time of the fogs i
i sight of the ship until the last thing was brought away
5

   

 
 

 

 

 

 

 

 

100 KATE WEATHERS; or,

the beach. Stam, too, would be gone most of the time; and

it was not an unusual thing that even Kate would leave the

house in early morning, and. not return once until night.

They would always leave for her plenty of cold fish and pota-
toes, and all she had to do was to go to the pan and eat when-
ever she desired. How could any one be otherwise than
happy in such a case?

For a full half-hour she sat there on the chest, without
once changing her position in the least, and without once
during that whole time either closing her mouth or winking
her eyes. But when the man arose and began wringing his
hands, and pacing hurriedly back and forth across the room,
she became uneasy, closed her mouth, and sat straight up, for
she felt sure that he was becoming desperately angry, and
there was little doubt upon her mind but that he would

Soon set in to beating Kate and herself; and what should they
do then, without any one to take the

ir part? She arose at
one time and went as far as the door i

n flight ; but, glancing
back and seeing that the man had got down on his knees,

and was looking up towards the roof of the house, she returned
and quietly seated herself again, and resumed her vacant stare
at him ; but again, when he arose and rushed out of the door
and away, she would have flown out before him, but his
movements were so rapid and unexpected that she had not
the time to recover from her surprise and get fairly on her
feet before he was out and gone.

It was natural enough, Gilsey thought, for Kate to run to
the door, and look out to see which way the man had gone;
but when she ran out and up the path after him, she was so
not utter a word until she saw the

bend in the path a hundred yards
away; then she asked the question that had for some time

been on her lips: “ What's you goin’ for?” And this ques-

tion was asked in exactly the tone that she would asked it
if Kate had been only two yards distant.

She continued to stand there in the door, and gaze up the
path for full ten minutes after Kate had disappeared from
View, waiting, not so much for her return, as for an answer to
the question. But as neither Kate nor
she went and sat on the side of the bunk,
into the little pale face there for at least te

an answer came,
and looked down
n minutes longer,

 

1
SCATTERED BY THE TEMPEST. 10

in i i d she
vain into her mind, an
Then it seemed that Kate came agai a ee
i nd looked up the path ag -
= yr ayaa she had es pag end ae
? .
thicket and across to ; ;
pepe se a = “ Oh, Kate hag a po bs Ne}
a i ger!” Gilsey turned, :
< ting the stranger ! ] eae
x ae peg ena and leaned back, resting be 20 ee
Ses tote ae and began staring into the grea p
i , his folk:
sg se wonder,” she thought, BY if rues _ =
in’t . that ship, and he’s afeerd they ll be gen ‘6 2 asd
ie oe Hope nobody won’t hurt him ; but ms we ee
* slicalh Ike or Jim much! I wants bie i ng sing
That stuff of his’n is better’n nes ‘ =e - Sy
g 1 o’ good ; just see how good |
oe man Ae sews tok ‘and then, too. Ain’t he purty when

i Won’t it be nice
‘Il git well now, I guess. — ;
aus ey pe big enough to help me to dig sand-fiddlers ou

’ their holes? Hope Jim and Ike won't ag ead
a "t see what they should want to do it for ; be y are
it mone Wonder what folks should want with . anc ;
. at a their necks I guess. This ss pid Mi
ittin’ right smart and black ; bout time Lm agen
a it away and git another piece. Baby's piece Li -
mine now; but mine used to be like his’n is os , at,
ittin’ sorter black, too, I b'lieve ; ‘t will do ene eee
awe sweat blacks it. am ive ue a —— neers
k,—one for me and one for young nee
% anes nice, ain’t they? My! that fire ‘Il go clean ou
G1 icks on.” “ :

at pe bead pc pion ful of sticks, which she
i t out and got an armfu '

laid ” a4 fire then she stretched herself on the floor nea

?
leep.
the hearth and went to s kee ae
full two hours, an g
ae pe ly pa pa of a semicircle abe iG aes
reais knees and lowering her head, until at las
ot almost together. $ Fe
ane we had she had such * opperunnlly : ha '
i ime ; that it req

daytime ; so seldom, i “ae

we for lige vat herself upon waking that she ha

j izht’s sleep, and that it was
not just aroused from her we nig P>
 

102 KATE WEATHERS; OR,

not now early morning. It was a rare circumstance that
granny permitted a whole hour of daylight to pass without
scolding or cursing or beating her ; and now she looked fear-
fully around for the venomous hag, but she was not to be seen,
—all was quiet. The sticks in the fireplace had burned to
coals, so she went out and brought another turn of them, and
put them on; then she sat down again to think about the
happy time she was having. Her seat was upon one of the low
stools ; and though, in fact, her eyes were fixed steadily upon
the burning sticks, yet from their expression one might have
thought that the object gazed at was at least forty yards be-
yond the fire.

“ Wrecks is-nice things, sure ‘nough,” she thought: “no-
body don’t stay home, and me and the youngun does have
sich a good time. Nobody ain’t allers hollerin’ at you, and
cussin’ you, and hittin’ you on the head and about ; you don’t
have nothin’ to do sich times but to bring in an armful o’
sticks now and then, and take a tater or fish out o’ the pan
when you gits a hungry, and tote the youngun about when
he gits to cryin’, and then give him a little fish and tater, and
git him to sleep, and lay him down in the bunk. Wish there
was a wreck to come on every day or two, for when they
comes granny allers goes and stays ever so long. Wonder
where they gits so many things to put in wrecks ?—some-

And so the child’s thoughts were running continually from
one subject to another, until her head sank forward, lower and
lower, and finally rested on her knees. She was fast asleep
again.

So passed the whole day with her,—thinking, talking, eating,
sleeping, feeding the baby and getting it to sleep, bringing in
sticks for the fire. Whata peaceful day it was for poor Gilsey
Roe! Few like it had she ever experienced before, and that few
on occasions of the coming on of wrecks, Ah, angel Peace
always came to Gilsey Roe in the wake of the tempest.

When night began to deepen, Gilsey pushed-to the door
of the hut and went and laid herself in the bunk beside the
child, and soon she fell into a deep sleep, from which she
waked not once until the broad daylight came again and glim-
mered down through the cracks in the roof upon her face.

She arose hastily, and went and threw the door wide open,

 

103

SCATTERED BY THE TEMPEST.

d. Never before had
wondering that no one had yet returne sn ga vane tp

i isgivings tha
in aa ‘ees ar the path toward the sea-beach an
impu ;

i he could

f the hills, from whence 8 ©
a abl i otter the oie. Possibly enough mig
righty Bre d then she could return and have

i fears, an
is wre oe are ers But she had no sooner stepped out of
ano

the door than the ab awoke Ww th a scream and sh ran ba kk
b y 1 cream, e C)
and took it up in her arms. A woman stepped in at the door

Well, this will

i i hild from the bunk. “ :

a6 Sioa ee eas no better than to find you all dead,
. :

+ ah
idn’t ! in’t no one been here to pester your
Gay prea ire turned toward the speaker, but said

gor i ” the woman asked.
5 F here last night ?” the wo
. hese praca ay « there ain’t been nobody —_ as I
k apt since Stam and Kate went off; but wo * an ACG
“Where is they,—eh? Dead and drownded for wha ;

and it’s a wonder if they ain’t. bia oe eae
i itin’ the ship ,
tired clean out of waitin’ or ti

ponbt ao pine that was standin lookin’ out Bt

Into a notion to launch the little gig that come as it aes

Devils night afore last, and chance it in her to g

tch in the ship theirselves.”
e s Who ” interrupted Gilsey,—“ granny ? : oe
« Wait, and T'll tell you all about it. Le’s see ;

Stam and Len and Sol and Kate sg

\ te drownded too ?”
‘ ren Wiki another that nobody knowed who he was

i f a sand-
. Ike said he popped up out 0 4
fi eco ery eo he! Well, they got into — gig and
it paca bimeby the little boat got to nr ip sw
Siesche wucae sail was histed, and the ship, ‘stid o

i ile out. And
2 ight off, and by night she was ten mi
tha lee < ‘hat rar ead seed of any o’ them bapa:
oe ea he’s got back,—he’s over there on the be
cept it’s :

we 4 ”
i n’ hisself.
now, layin’ out on the sand resti

4 ” asked Gilsey. ;
as ots be T've pi! him with my own eyes,

5 9. 3
Drew’s as dead as a herrin’.

 

Gilsey. Ike
 

 

 

 

104 KATE WEATHERS 3; OR,

Gilsey was too amazed to speak, She onl
mouth open, staring into the woman’s face,

“ For what I knows,” continued the woman, “ they’re all
dead and drownded. Like as anyway they started back to shore
last night and swamped ; but then nobody ain’t drifted up but
Ike, and the gig ain’t nowheres to be seen neither. I can’t
see how it is, for my part; but then, like as anyway they're
all dead and drownded.”

Gilsey looked at the baby and shuddered. « Where's
granny ?” she asked.

The question was answered by a woman who was standing
at the end of the door-block, in such a position that only her
head could be seen as she peered in. “She ain’t fur off,”’ said
Peggy Strubl. “But who's in here, Betsy ?”

“ Nobody but me and Gilsey and the youngun,” the startled

woman answered, as soon as she recovered sufficiently from her

surprise to speak. “ But what's got you to creepin’ about this
fashion ?”

'y stood with her

“ Creepin’ about, eh ?” answered Peggy, as she stooped down
and peered under the bunk. « [ should say it was a time to

creep about. Is you all that’s in here, Betsy Curt ?”

“ What's the matter?” asked Betsy, in great surprise.

“ Matter, eh ? Well, all the devils is loose on N orth Banks,
that’s all. They come last night and sot fire to the house and
burnt it up; then Jim shot at ‘em with a powder gun, like
a fool; then me and Nancy runned off into the thickit ; then
Pete got away; then they kotch Jim and mammocked him
into mush; then they went and got the boat and has done

somethin’ with her ; and—that’s the last that has been seed of

‘em. I guess ther’ ain't nothin’ there under the bunk, is
there ?”

“ Was granny burnt up ?” asked Gilsey.

“Granny burnt up? Didn’t I tell you she and me runned
off ?”

“ Has the devils kotch her yet ?” asked the girl.

“ You'll see soon enough if she’s kotch or not.”

“ Where's Jim and Pete now?” asked Betsy.

“Jim’s layin’ in the path where they left him, and Pete’s
setting down in the sand close by looking at him, and list’nin’
to him howl and cuss. Ain’t them that went off in the gig
come back ?”

-

SCATTERED BY THE TEMPEST. 105

“ One of ‘em has,” answered Betsy; “I seed one of ’em
a spell ago.” “yee
: ” sai ery. ow di ae
: Which pe ic ae Nancy Wehas, eres into the
# did one git ashore by hisse e
soe what did he have to talk about ? asked Peggy.
“ Nothin’. He wouldn’t say nary word. Peete
“ Nothin’? Where was he when you see
“ Layin’ on the sand restin’ hisself. sels
“ Betsy,” said Nancy, fiercely, “ you're lyin Nees
“Is1?) Well you'll see if you'll just go over ns hele
for he’s there yet,” said Betsy, ge ag ae fs ne we
in her laughter. “I tell you ee
teal tor Tite wood hie myself. Let me tell you,—he's dead

‘hed : :
wie! AS peor drownded!” exclaimed Peggy. ‘I'd ruther it

” i
for the wreck to come on.
eer not a word, but instantly she turned and was

i idly away. é
ne teak tae pod witch !” paid Pegey : Linen yews
i ae t box ain
’re off to! But listen to me: if tha u ve
pops it, somebody’ ll git ge grat Wty by cee
i i sfore had laid the bal L
Gilsey, who some time befor ie
out of the door unnoticed by the others, bay
ie 2 gh great excitement, exclaiming, “ They're comin’!
“ Who’s comin’?” asked Betsy Curt. : ‘oi
“Stam and Kate and the aay re all com
know that?” asked Betsy. ia
‘ Tee Reckges Ks the hill,—a little boat’s makin’ in to’ards
ery hurried out and off
i nceement the three women
ee and Gilsey snatched the baby from the bunk

ith all haste.
a“ Thos ber 1” said Betsy, when she reached the top of the

| yp
ff in. That’s them!
i : same boat they went o
i cap an for in less than half an hon -
th: i the little gig came plunging and pep: poi
04 breakers, and Stam and his wife, and Len and his son,
?
the stranger stepped out on the shore.

”

 

E*

Eke an Cee ve
 

 

 

 

106 KATE WEATHERS; OR,

CHAPTER XI.
THE FUGITIVES REACH A STRANGE LAND.

Tux boat containing the fugitives had got well away from
shore when the flames from the burning hut descended be-
neath the tree-tops. Here, out in the broad scope, the little
craft trembled and quaked within the grapple of the angry
tempest. The skies seemed even more dismal than before the
burning, and ceaseless was the wailing dirge of the taut sheets.

Frangois and Jeannot sat at the helm; Marie and her little
ones were crouching low in the bow. The sand-bags were
piled well to the windward. The craft went streaming on,
ploughing, rearing, plunging, now careening on her beam’s ends,
and now, like a stormy petrel, leaping from wave to wave and
brushing the summits with her wings,—reeling

g, screaming,
darting on before the rushing wind to deeper, darker seas,

It was a fearful adventure, the launching out of that: little
deckless boat at such a time upon the turbulent waters ; but
better that than to remain,—aye, better that, though other
shores should never be reached,

Hours passed. The winds began to lull as morning light
came glimmering through the gloom. Those at the helm dis-
covered then that they had passed from the sound, and were
sailing up a broad, straight river, the shores of which were
covered with dense forests,

“Tt is fortunate,” said Frangois, “ that we have chanced to
come into this place. No doubt we shall be safe here,—at
least for a time,—for no signs of human habitation are to be
seen in any direction ; and, besides that, I am sure we have a
fair start of any who might be disposed to pursue us. In my
judgment we can do nothing better now than to look about
for the wildest and most secluded spot of all this wild region,
at which to establish headquarters until we can determine
upon some plan for future action ; but, Jeannot, we cannot
be too cautious, for dangers are on every hand, and we must
remember that our object is not merely to make our escape,

SCATTERED BY THE TEMPEST. 107

i ing loved
but, if possible, to restore the father to his sorrowing
?
” ; ; oe
ee an hour or more past the wind had pees wera ria
as spent, t
e, and now the storm w t cme
na Se on the dead-calm river, ten miles oP - wi
ne ag Her sails hung drooping down; wet nn hele
aie the gentle roll of the sleck waters.

ur-reaching sound
: away astern the far-r
were now on every hand: away

i ight sheet of glimmering
was in view; ahead, the broad, straig et ee

ky horizon ; an
rcecnad oe pos “deep, silent wildernesses. The dreary

“ .
cloud-cur tain that had been so long hanging betw een heaven and
ear th was rolling up higher and higher from eastern horizon,

’s li the world beneath
ing in floods of heaven's light upon pert
it : eer oat frowning mass overhead was breaking in

fraements that seemed as islands and broad ors =
ver hors an pete Ta thal meamelat kena
ling eae of lana fossike on through the blue seas of
i .
es by the tiller sat Francois and his companion a.
Teel : in the bow the weary mother and her little .
Saves eth sleeping. The mother’s head was resting on ©
Sn a spam had fallen and was trailing on the wey ;
sahara bosom two little heads were pillowed, and eink a
fear they could get two other heads were lying c _ ”
ack i nha tecaden sunlight came and bathed in er ght
dos lovin group. “Then the mother’s eyes ee ne
tatied when they fell upon those two who sat so Br phe
the helm, for in a twinkling er heey oc pospse
Mong oh od rend phere of horror, — “
ae re gon Mad been feeding on her heart so long, we
sea ae eae until now; not once until the storm ye
etic malaht morn had come, bringing its rie ee
en gr hae and moaned as sobs ri bres a: - -
wea ime on
a : er oar seen ve ae men, pact <r
ng rage the shrieking storm without a thrill o - 3
tan ial heads to hide the tear-dimmed eyes;

spake they while that mother sadly wept.
 

 

 

108 KATE WEATHERS; OR,

“Lady,” said Francois, at last, “we know how sad the
afflictions that weigh upon you; but take heart: the God that
drapes the sky with tempest clouds sends light and beauty also
upon the earth. Take heart and hope, for all may yet be well.
You wonder at these words from men who followed Pedro ;
but before high heaven I speak the truth and say we are your
friends, and that we will shield both you and your little ones
from harm and insult with our lives. We have not come here,
lady, only ourselves to escape the wrath of cruel men, but to
Serve you and yours that are weak, to seek for him that is
lost. Fear not, then; trust us: we are men, not brutes, fol-
lowers though we may have been of Pedro.”

“Oh, kind friends!” said Marie, “if word and act had failed,
the tears upon your cheeks assure me of your good intentions.
I forget that you were followers of that cruel man, and trust-
ingly place myself, and these who are as defenceless as I am,
under your care. God grant that our efforts to find the dear
lost one may be successful ! Herceforth, I will strive not to
murmur or despair. Take whatever course your better judg-
ment may direct, and I will follow willingly, trusting in the
mercies of an all-seeing and pitying God;—trusting that all
will yet be well.”

“T think, Francois,” said Jeannot, “ that it will not be pru-
dent for us to remain here longer. This boat with its white
sail is a conspicuous object, and possibly we may be observed,
even in so wild a place as this is. Let us furl the sail and
unship the mast, then put out the oars and seck some hiding-
place at the shore. Here, to our left, is the mouth of a creek,—
Suppose we run into it? No doubt diligent search is now
being made for the boat we have, and it would be as sad a
calamity to fall into the hands of those wild people who dwell
upon the coast as it would be to be overtaken by Pedro,”

Frangois admitted the wisdom of the suggestion: the mast
was unshipped, and in a few minutes the boat was gliding up

the narrow creek, farther and farther back into the shadowy
wilderness.

The creek, though very deep, was in some places so narrow
that the ends of the oars touched its opposite shores at the
same stroke. On it reached, bending this way and that in its
snake-like course for a distance of four or five miles, when it
widened abruptly out into a broad lake.

wonderingly out upon
them. The children,
oars some time before, '
they too looked out, st
who had been fretting,

waters, laughi

growth of junip
ground up —

d there in ,
ieoened high above the general ag, Speaal-pianyi oie

trees that the storms of

109

EST.
SCATTERED BY THE TEMP.

i d looked
ime from their labors an :
ci Act grove? indescribable pecan pots
| reakin
who had wakened at wee oe

forgot for the time St TT ae

dering.
pane Sp her hands over the sleek

aoe ge ere covered with a dense

ke w
1 shores of the la Pang
poor opr tie er, whose deep green poowsnsy 8 ee

i i seven
Ne ae t, whose velvety cone

Pind tag a Here and there were

—_ h bowed, were still
: but these, though bowed,
og a no igen it seemed as if they a ia
“ oe pected to smile upon the beautiful images
stoop

i a

them. fal!” Lucie exclaimed. “Oh, if dear pap
ful!’ Lucie excial 2 Ycmeat

: “ gy how glad I would be to pc . ie ay
oxsig- gaara ria to sail about on this wane Pais
morsing and at the ree ~ - 4 piel ving “the
“Dear child,” said Marie, embracing her davetion Oe

i i t observe W itud
scenes are indeed glorious, bu Me

Qaite Taney ne abe thar the eyes of a0

ow behold the scenes before us

surrounds us. Q
many miles of this spot, an
many rational creatures as 1

never before beheld them.”’ ede Pes girl.

; i iful !” rs
‘ agers aid 5 pose “ numbers of savage beasts roa
“ No doubt,

in these wilds.”
« What is that yonder,

es — a bear,” Frangois answered.

HE : 2
‘ peers Be oer in P ao ee je
anded,”said Jeannot ; © 8 .
“He me rome | Now he has ranma Mea ar
: eee not even look in. this direction,
“ e i

ing disturbed in
i anger or of being
“ Fle has no apprehension of dang

”
his wild retreat. ;
« Took over here 10 the

« There is another boat, with

17
swimming across the lake?” asked

water, mamma,” said little ag
a little boy in it; he has a cap like
10
  
  
    

 

»” said Lucie;
nes and flowers
your cap and hold it out,

00. Do you see my two

“ for see, yonde
~ hang over
and you will s i
hands down there?? :
“No,” the little b
Lucie ; nor is that
heartily, he would
only images.
rangois arog
sack, which he ml vat
“are provisions
other things,
in the same m
brought by the order o
when the drunken sail
the beach, Jeannot an
one of these sacks and

pictures of the trees and vi
nd

Take off s

f that, t

the water.

 

 

 

 

 

 

oy answered ;
my cap, either,”’
not be convinced

“they are not
your hands,
And though he laughed
that what he saw were

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

ggin

 

pped for
aced near Mista sore die

—some ship-
Jeannot, you
anner.

ga wi
“Tn this, lady,”

biscuit and smoked m
see,

It is wha
f Pedro

ors went

 

 

eat and
has a sack near hin, filled

t remains of the provisions
p. Last night,
he tent towards

 

 

 

 

 

 

from the shi

 

 

 

 

    
   

   
 
 

both you
you.”

ck’s mouth and ex-
, and before =

are in great need of 5

Soon after F rangoi
posed to view the te
through with one-

omething to nourish
s had opened the sa

empting contents
third of his ex

 

 

 

 

 

      
   
 
    

food, as they had

You see,” she said
set before us is accep
sure you, too,

had nothing since the mor:
whether what you have s

table ; but you ar a
: en
are in need of food,” ot eatin

 

ning before,
0 generously
ig, and I am

 

 

 

 

   

SCATTERED BY THE TEMPEST. 111

« Yes,” Frangois said, “we are in need of food, but not a
crumb of the contents of these sacks will be eaten by us; they
are for you and your children. Have no fears for us, for we
are used to roughing. Something will turn up in good time

for us.”
When Paul’s hunger was satisfied he took from the bottom

of the boat a piece of an old iron kettle, that had been used
as a bailer, and dipping it into the lake, brought it up half
full of water, which he was about to drink, when Lucie cried
out, “ Don’t drink that, Paul, for it is very salt. I drank
some by accident when on the ship, and was made sik by
it.”
«“ But this water is not like that,” said Frangois ; “this is
fresh, and no doubt very good to drink.”

“ But see how red it is!” said Paul.
“Tt gets its color from the roots of the juniper,” said

Francois ; “it is both pleasant to the taste and healthy.”
Paul drank some of it, and pronounced it the best water
that he had ever drank; and one’ after another the others

drank, and all pronounced it excellent.
Again the men put out their oars, and rowed in the direc-

tion of the head of the lake; for they deemed it prudent
now to get as far away from the haunts of men as possible.
But before they had got half-way across they discovered a.
creeklet, similar to the one through which they had come,
opening into the lake on their left. They also saw, over the
juniper growth, back in the woods, the tops of a grove of lofty
trees, which they supposed was the growth upon higher lands
than those near the margin of the water; so they concluded
to turn aside and explore the creeklet, in the hope that they
might find not only a secure hiding-place, but dryer land upon
which they might take up their abode for a time.
‘They had not gone up the winding creeklet exceeding half
a mile before they came to a dry, sandy ridge covered with

lofty pines.
“JT am sure,” said Jeannot, “that we could not find a bet-

ter place than this to rest at in this whole wilderness.”
“Or one more quiet and peaceful,” said Lucie. “ What

a lovely green arch the junipers make, lapping over the

ereek |” :
“Let us stop here by all means,” said Paul. “1 think

——————

   

lc is
 

113

SCATTERED BY THE TEMPEST.

inlet tai

: ; ters and
112 KATE WEATHERS; OR, come from? Where are nails? Where are carpen
we may succeed in capturing a bear or deer here, or in doing Z
some other fine thing that we may tell papa about when we
shall find him.”

Both the men laughed at hearing the little boy’s earnest
remarks.

“T think, Master Paul,” said Frangois, “that there are
plenty of good fish in these waters; and I shall be disap-
pointed if we do not succeed in capturing some of them very

 

brick-masons ?
“ Necessity is the mothe

“ and very many of our wan

r of invention,” said Frangois;
ts are imaginary. Now, you “se
va s ba
asked to see the material for building, the asap — ing
and the skilled workmen: they are all cea te eo
building material is growing in great abu
c

h to b d. J nd
and, and it only needs e cut and prepared. eannot a
?

ife ; ives and this axe are the tools
hog e sqengee ge sada workmen. But be pa-

 

 

soon.” that will be used, and we all have a house completed before
“ But how are fish to be caught without hook or net?” tient and observe. We = ecurs to prevent.” :

asked Paul. night, unless some ager! areal at work chopping down
“T might ask, how are bear and deer to be captured with- The two men then a they trimmed, and cut into such

out dog or gun?” said Frangois, smiling. “ But you will see, some little, slim peek Then several other pieces were cut,

I think, that we will capture the fish,—and that, too, without
hook or net.”

“ How then are they to be cooked without fire?” asked
Lucie.

“ And, even if fire were to be had, without pots or kettles
or pans to put them in?” said Paul.

“We do not know what we can do until we try,” said
Frangois; “ but we must work now, and talk more about these
things at another time. The first thing to be done is to build
a house. There is an old, rusty, and battered axe under the
head of the boat, and a brickbat near by it; bring them out
with you, Jeannot. We will cut the timber with that axe to
build our house with.”

Paul laughed heartily at seeing the old battered axe brought
forth. “I think it would require a full year to chop down
one tree with that axe,” he said.

“We shall see,” said Frangois, as he sat down on the
ground and began whetting the axe with the brickbat.

Frangois kept steadily at his work, and in the course of

. three hours he succeeded in getting the axe sharp enough to
chop soft wood with. “Three hours more of steady work,”
he said, “ will get it all right ; but further whetting must be
postponed until another day, or we shall not be able to com-
plete our house before night.”

“ Before night!” Paul exclaimed, in surprise. “But how
are you to build a house, if the axe were ever so sharp? Where »
are you to get bricks for the chimney, tiles for the roof, and
glass for the windows? Where are great piles of lumber to

lengths as they

t the upper ends of which were left prongs; these pieces
a

ks were the lumber
nd these poles and for :
ro | eS tle the house. They were sti =
vil a t the proper place ; then the forks were pak ; -
cok i the ground at proper distances apart, and the poles
ai to prong upon them.
laid there” weil eich “the frame is completed, end rtd
needs to be covered. Bring up the roofing and Weg
boarding, Jeannot, while I clear away this undergrow
ands,” :
ae about to laugh heartily at the men’s Lamar snag ;
but observing the serious and business-like. arr =
their faces, and seeing also that Jeannot went prey . y fe
while Frangois hurriedly cleared the grounds . t e 20 ria:
roots, instead of laughing out, his pe et i sts
i i tfulness. :
i ssion of serious thoughtful
his hands behind his back, he did nothing = port pa
watching Frangois, and eases ~. ae : bpigiir te: ng
came back, lugging on
ao eit nites from the mast; these he ang ee
bi hed over the poles and forks, securing = . lees ris
eek with little pegs that they drove through the reefing
MT, 4 is, “is the house complete; it only
: id Frangois e |
sade ean ye furnished : bring in the carpets, Jeannot,

i ing other things ready.
and put them down while a oes getting othe gs

ewan ere nae
  
  
 
 
 
 
 
  
 
  
 
 

 

  
 
 
 
 
  
  
 
 
 
   
  
 
 
  
  
  
  

  
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
  
 
 
  
   
 
   
  
 
 
 
 
 

    
  

 

114 KATE WEATHERS; OR,

We must be in a hurry, for it will be high noon in an hour
from this time, and we have much to do yet.”

Jeannot then busied himself gathering up armfuls of the
clean pine-tags that covered the ground under the great pines
to the depth of several inches ; these he took into the tent
and spread smoothly and deep over the ground.

“Now, Master Paul,” said Jeannot, in a serious tone, “if
these should get to fraying or ravelling, it will be but little
trouble to repair the damage, for there is an abundance of the
material ; and it is not costly either, soft and nice as are the
carpets.”

“Make way there!” said Francois, who came blundering
in, bringing a great stack of gray moss upon his head and
shoulders ; “let me get these beds off my head, so that I may
have the use of my eyes. I have been guessing my way, and
blundering against the trees all along.”

Paul looked on in astonishment, as Frangois made two great
piles of the dry moss and flattened them down in the shape
of beds. “ Where did you get those beds?” he asked.

“T found them hanging from the limbs of some huge
cypress-trees that grow at the margin of this ridge that we
have settled upon.’

“Did you get all that you saw?” asked Paul.

“No, indeed,” said Frangois; “there are thousands of the
trees, and each tree has a score of beds hanging from its
branches.”

“ Where shall I place these divans?” asked Jeannot, as he
came lugging in a couple of short logs.

“T think,” said Frangois, “ they will look more ornamental
placed on each side of the room, directly opposite to one
another,—but, Jeannot, one of them is badly scratched. I
think you had better get it exchanged.”

“No trouble about that,” said Jeannot, “for there are
thousands where these came from. I will exchange it for a
better one.”

“ Wait,” said Frangois, “let us put off until to-morrow the
selection of the more elegant furniture; for really we have
a great deal of necessary work that must be done in a short
time. You must remember that there is yet a kitchen to be
built before dinner can be cooked, and then you and I must
erect a dwelling for ourselves before the coming on of night.”

 

SCATTERED BY THE TEMPEST. 115

i irection,”
«“T am at your service and ready to follow your dir ’

. = "2%
said Jeannot. “ Where shall we pitch our tent, Frangois

is under yonder great
HE en ." ta Br But he kitchen is
ine, twenty rods or so to ee shee cise
the next thing in order ; ste. ag Me eee por .
i ing- F
hile I get together some chairs, a dining :
faba The kitchen first, ——— then you will
ye to look around for something to cook.’
 eaaan took the axe and began the digging of a hole oe
two feet square, nearly in front of the tent, and not more
rods from it. :
me What are you digging that hole for?” asked Paul. =e
“ Hole!” said Jeannot ; “ that is the kitchen, Master - .
See, it is completed now, rds tare rigging of a crane in the
himney to swing the pots and kettles upon.” —
: He a drove down two forks on opposite sides of the hole
and placed a little pole upon them. ‘4 ‘5 ~ priced x the =
i i i ring cook-
in the chimney,” he said. “ Now, I will go an g cool
288 utensils ale the boat.” Saying this he started hastily
off towards the boat, and soon returned, bringing the broken
kettle and some rusty wire that he found under the a
The wire he bent and twisted in such a manner that ha’
kettle could be suspended by it from the pole that reache
from fork to fork over the hole. ‘ There, he said, ——
Paul, “all that remains now is to find something to be cooked,

and then to kindle a fire and cook it.”

  

  

sai i y t of the

“Very well done,” said Frangois, as he came out 0}
tent ve’ Rinses Pe kitchen. “ Now, Jeannot, for dinner,
You are a successful fisherman,—I need say prea gets
Come into the tent, Master Paul, and see whether the table
suits you.” :

Paul went and lifted the curtain at the doorway and entered
the tent. There was the dining-table ready to receive me
Frangois had driven four forks in npr oer _ en hs .

: al al of the thwarts
on them; on these were laid several of “oa
i sides of the table he ha
ht in from the boat. On two si
bh pairs of sticks in the form of the letter X, and on vere
were laid poles flattened on the top. These Frangois calle

ining- hairs. ;
ome Tittle ay was both delighted and surprised. “I never

”
saw nicer table and chairs in my life,” he said ; “ but then

 
 

 

 

116 KATE WEATHERS ; OR,

“ But then, where is the dinner to come from ? Well, Mas-
ter Paul, if ye fail to get a nice steaming dinner to set upon that
table to-day, we must look out for one to-morrow ; and if we
fail then, we may succeed the day after. We have this satisfac-
tion, if we get the dinner we shall have a table all ready to
put it on.”

“ Come here, Master Paul,” called Jeannot. « T shall want
you to help me to catch some fish for our dinner, and I am
about to be off now.”

When Paul went out of the tent he found Jeannot busily
engaged preparing fishing-tackle. -He had gone into the
Swamp near by, and cut a stout reed and trimmed it smoothly,
At the small end he had fastened a strong cord about four
feet long. Two pieces of hard, tough wood, an inch and a
half or two inches long, he had whittled to keen points ; these
pieces he crossed one on the other and tied securely together.
Then he wrapped the cross with a strip of red flannel until the
points of the sticks were concealed in the ball, and left the

to the end of the rod,

“All is ready now,” said Jeannot, « Come, let us go to
the creek.”

“Do you expect to catch fish with that ?” asked Paul. “No
cork, no sinker, no hook !”

“ We will see,” said Jeannot. « Stand there on the stern-
seat and look as much as you please, but keep very quiet.”

Jeannot then took his stand at the bow of the boat, and as
he pulled her slowly and noiselessly along by the overhanging
boughs that came within his reach, he at the same time drew
the red bait rapidly about on the surface of the water, through
the little coves under the limbs, and back and forth across
the creeklet. While he was thus engaged, Paul stood on

They had not been going on in this way long before the
bait suddenly disappeared ; the end of the limber reed was
drawn down to the water, and Jeannot was leaning back
steadily against the weight. The reed was arched like a bow;
the outer end went circling about this way and that, close to the

'E.

SCATTERED BY THE 7 : i

a power-

i hree feet, now, bY at

; it was lifted two or th 1 es Ba

fala ile pranks down even into pate oad Se ak war

ful surge, i d again, and again it went cre “ oe net wae

it was raised again, an ame higher and higher, fart
and that; gradually it cam g cage

wae k w ,
great whirls and eddies ridged the slee i whizzing along at

rong cor
still arching as a bow, me a strong + aiid
the head of as ee a al with his 1 purceg he on
eas bek Sue left, with his right pee steadily giving
he f ; ie right steadily raising the he left seemed merely
t Ie To a liad steadily raising, while aor the while the ex-
ae the part of a balance-weight. following closely ne
aaa” Para _—. yeah of the rod ; Pett
Ro ° Bs d that o icular, and whl2?
the tase aaed ae it inclined fxiin, penne pow the —
 getigne ight or to the JeM 5 r to the left.
to fom him. the eh tho ight aod of he
in the water as e Chat fisherman had nor to flounder at his
we rity rag to the unwilling mons
im in life,— 5

feet in the boat | ‘ot. had hastened fo
vetting to be quiet, ind Jeannot :

NPs See cao behind paren out his hands
raat pad are ver his right arm, re r enough soon to
pa ee ties the fish would be nea .

i P feet long—

be taken by the tail. a great pickerel, two Henge HE:

re eae ne bea rere ipell 6 the boat

pe pr ~~ for he was lifted from be coming ove

as Yeates as rag; only sa

gunwale—he made the meres ’.
of a last feeble protest, when,

! : !
setae blank was the cena se
was Paul! How rejoiced was ye fish fe
looked over the gunwale wang by the
he was waiting there to be ta he boy ex¢ 4
where to be seen.“ ica’ Beare have lost him !
dropped limberly at his sides, y way of co

. eae | annot, b .
“ Never mind,” said Je his creek as ni

irt with his tal
oy sa deakied

ow disappo:
a Paul went an

that stubborn fellow. ‘They

r the
e—as he was ‘Las if by way
d ‘pack into the
inted
d
I, in the hope that

6 as no-
tail, but he w
Jaimed, as his arms

mforting the boy ;
ce and as large as

i snning is fol-
“ there are plenty of fish in a that ‘a bad beginning

j dd
notes

 

 
 

 

 

118 KATE WEATHERS ; OR,

lowed by a good ending.’ If that be true, we shall have fresh
fish for dinner after all.”

Again the boat moved slowly and noiselessly along, and
before it had turned the bend in the creek that looks out into
the lake, five great pickerel were dancing and fluttering in it.
The oar was then put out, the boat was sculled back to the
landing, and forthwith preparations for dinner began.

Jeannot, who, since his return, had been kneeling by a log

near the kitchen, scaling his fish, happened to glane

ce up into
the little boy’s face, and observing the solemn expression upon

it said: “ Why are you so serious, Master Paul ?”

“T have been wondering,” said Paul, “ whether you intend
to eat those fish raw. I know they would be excellent cooked,
and as hungry as I am now, I am sure I could eat half of one

‘of them if they were nicely cooked ; but ugh! raw fish !”

Jeannot paused long enough from his work to reach up an
arm to his face and wipe away the tears that had come there
from laughing at the boy’s serious manner of treating the
subject. ‘We are all apt to have our whims of one kind or
another, Master Paul,” he said ; “but after all I think it would
depend on how hungry one might be, whether he would eat
raw fish or not. Probably if you were starving you would
take this fellow that I hold by the tail, and eat him just as he
is, head, fins, bones; scales, and all, and think that you had a

most delicious morsel in hand at that. But then I intend to
cook’ these.” :

“ Cook them without fire?” asked Paul,
“ We shall see about that. But, Master Paul, will you go
to the boat and open that sack that I had in charge this morn-

ing, and bring the little wooden bucket that you will find in
the mouth of it?” i

Paul ran off without answering, and soon returned with the
bucket.

“ Now,” said Jeannot, « you shall see that I will kindle a
fire. I suppose you know what this is?” he continued, as he
took a little round glass like the eye of a spectacle from his
vest-pocket.

“Oh, yes,” Paul answered ; “ I have seen one or two like it
before : it is a sun-glass,”

“Tt is of such a shape,” said Jeannot, “as that, when held
in a proper manner where the sun can shine full upon it, the

teal ae ened ideale

 

SCATTERED BY THE TEMPEST. 119

heat rays are converged, that is, brought together at . far
Now, if this glass has a surface a thousand times a pee
the little point where the rays are gathered, the — t ie (e
be a thousand times greater than at any point on t os rv .
the same size. I am going to kindle a fire among the leav
and shavings that I have heaped up in the kitchen a
See, the focal point is on that little piece of dry lic ar i
smokes already ; now it is blazing, the splinters around it 7 a
kindled. Ah, now we are about to have a fire ! We will no
have to eat raw pickerel for dinner after all. :
Paul was delighted. “TI did not think that a little sun-glass
could be put to so good a use,” he said. “Tf ever I leave home
again I shall be sure to have asun-glass with me. Why, J: ean-
not, I should think, from what you say, that a sun-glass as big
as a cart-wheel, raised high enough over a river, would set the
river to boiling, and cook all the fish in it in short order. .
Jeannot rolled back his eyes until they were almost milk
white. ‘“ Master Paul,” he said, “I have no doubt you will
be a great philosopher.” He then took salt and pepper from
the bucket and sprinkled them on the fish, that had been nicely

cleaned and washed and cut into pieces. Then a piece of fat
meat was taken from the bucket and cut into slices, and fish
and meat were placed together into the broken kettle, that was
hanging by its wire trammels over the fire, to be cooked. And
Jeannot stood by holding a piece of reed in his hand that he
had whittled to a sharp point, with which he was continually
turning the frying pieces over and moving them from place to
place, until the whole was thoroughly cooked and brown. The
kettle was then taken from the fire, and Frangois, who was
still at work in the tent, was called and informed that dinner
was ready.

atin the whole time that Jeannot and Paul had been
fishing and preparing dinner, Frangois had been very busy.
He had cut a short juniper log and split it into boards, then
he had cut the boards into blocks, and these he had fashioned
into a variety of shapes and kinds of table ware. So intent
had he been all the time at his own work that he had scarcely
taken the time to glance once towards the others at theirs ;
but now, as Jeannot called, he answered from within the tent,
“Ay, ay, I am coming.” And forthwith he went out and

toward the kitchen. He carried in his hand a thick board of
  

120 KATE WEA THERS; OR,

oval form, about fifteen inches long and twelve wide. This he
had shaved and scraped with his knife until he had got it very
smooth and even, and through the middle of it he had cut a
hole about six inches in diameter on the top side, tapering to
about four on the bottom.

“What have you there?” asked Jeannot, with a puzzled
look, as Frangois came and stood waiting, holding the board in
his hands.

“What but my waiter?” the steward answered, with an
expression of mock indignation on his face.

“Did you intend that the victuals should be put into that
hole in the middle of your ‘ waiter ?’” asked the cook, inno-
cently.

“ The kettle is to be set into that hole, as you call it, so that
there may be no necessity of removing the steaming victuals
from it until it is to be placed upon the plates to be eaten,”
said the steward :—* an invention of my own, sir!”

“ Capital !” said Jeannot, as he took’ the kettle out of its
trammels and placed it in the hole in the waiter; “a most
excellent gravy-saving institution, steward : capital, indeed !”

Frangois then stalked off to the tent and set his waiter on
the table. Paul, who was very hungry, followed close at his
heels, for the contents of the kettle had a very inviting odor.
But no sooner had the boy got within the tent than he halted
and stared about in great amazement, Frangois had made a
little cupboard and propped it on slender legs in one corner
of the room. It had two shelves and folding-doors that had
canvas hinges. The provision-sacks had been brought in and
their contents taken out and put into wooden dishes, and these
set upon the shelves. Some of the plates were piled as high
as they could be with ship-biscuit, others with meat, and others
with cheese. On the dinner-table were four plates for the
mother and three children, and near each plate was a reed fork
having two sharp tines. As soon as the waiter containing the
steaming pickerel was set upon the table, dishes of meat and
cheese and biscuit were taken from the cupboard and placed
there. Even little dishes containing pepper and salt were put

SCATTERED BY THE TEMPEST. 121

ing i kitchen to
laughter that Jeannot came running in from the

inquire what had happ *
a the table, lifting each plate as he went, taking up each

ining i aughi ring the time in the
fork and examining it, and laughing during
Most uproarious manner.

ened. There he saw Paul walking

Frangois then went out of the tent and down the slope to

the bank of the creek, where Marie and Lucie and the little

children were still sitting on the green grass, under a Manan
of great cypresses. He hesitated before speaking i en "i
observed the unusually sad expression of Marie’s face, 7 a
that traces of tears were still on Lucie’s cheeks; but at as
he said, “Will you take your children, madame, and come -
to dinner?” Marie only gazed in silent astonishment into the
man’s face. ‘Dinner is hot, madame,” continued Frangois,
“and is only waiting for you.” :

Still both mother and daughter stared wonderingly. :

“Oh, mamma! mamma!” said Paul, as he came running
down the slope; “do come and see what a nice house we
have! and what a nice dinner is on the table waiting for
us !” ;

“What can you mean, buddie?” asked Lucie. :

“T mean that Francois and Jeannot have made a nice house
for us, and ever so many nice things besides: but come and
see; it is just beyond the thick cluster yonder, and not more
than twenty rods from here. Come, dear mamma and Lucie ;
and come here, little Bobkins, and take my hand: I will show

ou the way.” :

: Marie pe ie at the earnest entreaties of the little boy, and,
with Lucie, followed him and Murat, whose hand he had, to-
ward the tent. Upon arriving there and seeing what had gx
done, her surprise was very great. _ Lucie forgot her grief, an
the woods resounded with her rilling laugh, and little Bob-
kins, as Paul called Murat, whom he loved tenderly, clapped
his hands with delight, and forthwith began somersaulting over
the beds and straw-covered floor. ;

A sweet, sad smile had come upon the mother’s face.

: ‘ are yEys
“ Forgive me, lady,” said Frangois, “if my manner may

Seem rude and my speech blunt, when'I say to you what an
honest heart dictates. It will be better for you not to give a
ose rein to sorrow. Be courageous, and hope and be as

cheerful as possible. Your case will be a sad one indeed if
‘e 11

in place.

Paul had difficulty to persuade himself that he was not
dreaming at first, but when at last he recovered in some mea-
sure from his surprise, he broke forth into such hearty peals of

 

 
 

 

 

 

 

 

122 KATE WEATHERS; OR,

you give way to despair. I heard your parting words to your
husband, softly said as they were; and they were well said.
Trust in God, and hope.”

 

CHAPTER XII.
LIFE IN THE WILDERNESS.

Frangots and Jeannot felt greatly encouraged at the suc-
cess of their first undertaking upon the island for the comfort
and pleasure of the unfortunates under their protection; and
more than ever were they determined to leave nothing undone
that it might be in their power to do for them, and to make it
their chief aim during this season of trial and affliction to di-
vert the thoughts of the mother and her children from the
gloomy channels through which they were most inclined to
flow.

“ We leave this place in your sole charge, madame,” said Fran-
gois, as Marie and her smiling children seated themselves at
the dinner-table. “It is a rude, uncomfortable dwelling, but
rude as it is, it will serve as a shelter for you and your chil-
dren until better arrangements can be made; gloomy as are
both it and its surroundings now, there is light enough in
hope to change the gloom to cheerfulness.”

Marie thanked the generous men as much in the expression
of her face as by words. ;

“Mamma and Murat and Lucie will sit at one side of the
table, and we will take the other,” said Paul to the men,—“ will
we not ?”

“No,” Frangois answered ; “ Jeannot and [have already ar-
ranged to mess together at ourown residence,—and then, Master
Paul, I imagine it would be uncomfortable for three men to
sit at table in the same chair.” :

“Where,” asked Lucie, in some surprise, “is your residence ?””

“ Do you see yonder great pine?” Jeannot asked, pointing
through the doorway of the tent.

“Indeed I do. I think itis the largest tree I ever saw. But
I see no residence near it.”

 

 

SCATTERED BY THE TEMPEST. 123

“ But you will see one there before night,” said J cannot.

“T am—going to help—about building it,” said Paul, a
off pieces of pickerel, chewing, talking, and swallowing,
at the same time. - ane

“We shall be glad to have your assistance,” said Jeannot,
“not only in building the house, but in preparing some lamps
for to-night’s burning; it will be very dark in this forest to-
night unless we shall have plenty of lamps burning.

“What do you mean, Jeannot?” asked Paul, as he placed
another bone on the pile at the side of his plate; ‘ what is it
about preparing lamps ?—surely you cannot make lamps too,
can you?”

“There is but little need of making lamps here,” said Jean-
not, “where thousands of them, filled to the brim with oil,
are scattered in every direction over the island.”

Paul was greatly puzzled. He looked as if he desired to
ask a dozen questions at the same time; bat, strange to say, he
did not utter a word, but only turned again to his pickerel
with renewed vigor, nor did he raise his head once until he
had finished his dinner.

After eating their dinner, the two men, assisted by Paul,
went to work building a house under the great pine. Forks
and poles were soon in place, and on these a roof of green
branches was laid; armfuls of straw were spread beneath this,
and the residence was completed. A great pile of dry dead
wood was brought into camp for kitchen fuel, and then turn
after turn of pine-knots were brought in and made into three
heaps,—one between the residence and the tent, one a little be-
yond the great pine, and the third between the tent and the
creek.

“ Judging from the shadows that are deepening around us,
T should say that the sun had set,” said Frangois. “ We had
better see to our lamps without loss of time.”

“ But where are they?” asked Paul; “and how does it hap-
Pen that thousands of lamps, filled to the brim with oil, are
Scattered about in this forest, as Jeannot says is the case ?”

“They were placed here,” Frangois answered, “by the
Senerous Sovereign who rules over these solitudes.”

. “Is it possible,” asked Paul, “ that any sovereign resides
11 and rules over this wild region? Who is it?”
“Her name is N ATURE,” Frangois answered.
 

 

 

124 KATE WEATHERS; OR,

“Tt is a strange name for a person,” said Paul. “ How long
has she ruled here ?”

“ Many thousands of years, Master Paul.”

“ Many thousands of years!—then she is older than Me-
thuselah ?”

“ Yes, much older; and yet she is as active and beautiful as
she was thousands of years ago.”

“ Really,” said the puzzled boy, “if you did not look so
serious, I should think that you were jesting.”

“ And yet I am not jesting; I have told you only what is
true. Nature, my dear little boy, is God’s creation, and all
that is around us in this vast wilderness is as it was created.
Man’s busy, restless hand has not been near to mar the beauty
of the Creator’s work.”

While Frangois and Paul were talking together, Jeannot
was at a little distance from them, busily at work with the axe
splitting some of the pine-knots into pieces. ‘ Come here,
Paul,” he said; “I have work for you: take these splits and
pieces of vine, and tie the splits into little bundles with the
vines. We must have the parlor lamps looking as neatly as
possible.”

“« What are these sticks for?” asked Paul.

“They are to be made into little bundles for parlor use,—
they are our lamps, Paul.”

An expression near akin to disgust came upon the boy’s
face. “ And the lamps that you spoke of are little bundles of
sticks, then |”

“No, the lamps that I spoke of are those piles of knots ;
these bundles are lamps of an improved kind,—that is, they
look cleaner and smoother, and are therefore preferable for in-
door use.”

“And the thousands of lamps, filled to the brim with oil,
are those knots! Where is the oi/ ?”

“Why, Paul,” said Jeannot, “each one of those larger
lamps has a full quart of oil in it; and excellent oil it is at
that. Here, take this parlor lamp and go touch its wick to
the blaze in the kitchen chimney, and judge for yourself
whether there is oil in it.” ¢

Paul looked straight into Jeannot’s grave face a time, then
he burst forth in a loud laugh. ‘TI never heard a bundle of
split sticks called a lamp before!” he said.

 

 

SCATTERED BY THE TEMPEST. 125

“Then you have made a useful discovery,” said Frangois,
who at that moment came up, and had heard Paul s remark.
“ You will soon be convinced that you hold in your hand a
lamp filled with good oil.” : :

Jeannot went off in the direction of the kitchen, carrying
his arms full of knots and bundles of splits, leaving Frangois
and the little boy talking together. Night shades were gath-
ering deep: only glimpses of the star-sprinkled sky could be
seen through the thick foliage overhead : objects around were
but dimly discerned, and weird was the gloam beneath the
trees,

Neither Francois nor Paul had observed the departure of
Jeannot; and they were surprised when Frangois addressed a
question to him and no answer was returned.

“ Where can he be?” asked Paul, in some alarm. ‘ Do you
think, Frangois, that there are bears near ma

“None that will attempt to hurt us, my little man; prob-
ably Jeannot has gone to light the lamps.”

“Ugh!” exclaimed Paul, “how very dark it is! I shall
wonder if we are ever able to find the tent until to-morrow.’

_ Scarcely had Paul finished the sentence before a brilliant
light flashed out near the tent. ‘ What is that?” asked the
boy, in considerable alarm, as he grasped Frangois’s arm. —

“ Jeannot has lighted one of the lamps. See how plainly
objects appear now. ‘There are the tent and the trees around
it; there kneels Jeannot at the kitchen, holding the wick of
another lamp to the blaze in the chimney; and there stand
your mother and sister and brother at the tent-door looking on.
Do you think you would have difficulty in finding your way
now ?”

“TJ declare,” said Paul, “it is almost as light as day at the
tent !”

“ Let us go there,” said Frangois. “ Jeannot is intent upon
having an illumination. See! he has stuck the ends of a
dozen or more of his bundles in the ground, and is now walk-
ing from one to another lighting the top ends. What a soft
red light it is! and what a stream of black smoke is rising up
toward the branches from each lamp! Suppose you now light
the lamp that you have.”

Paul held the end of his bundle to the flame, and was sur-

Prised to see how readily it ignited.
11*

 

 
 

 

 

 

 

126 KATE WEATHERS; OR,

“ What do you think of our lamps?” asked Jeannot.

“Their light is splendid,” Paul answered; “and yet,
Jeannot, they are but little bundles of sticks. Where is the
oil ?”

“Do you observe the thick, black liquid streaming down
each lamp from the flame to the ground ?”

“ Why, yes, I see it now. What is it?”

“Tt is the oil I spoke of; the lamps are so brimming full
of it that it is running over at the tops and being wasted on
the ground. Now you will remember, Master Paul, that I
said that you would in time get to be a philosopher. It was
when you spoke of the big sun-glass that would boil the river
and cook the fishes in it. Here is another grand subject for
you: why should not these cheap lamps be used over the
whole world, and none but these?”

“ Does any other kind of wood burn in that way ?” asked
Paul.

“T think not,” Frangois answered; “ there is no other kind,
I think, that contains such a quantity of oil of the same
character ; this is called Uightwood. I have no doubt you have
heard of substances called turpentine, rosin, and tar, and that
they are products of the yellow pine ?”

“ Yes,” Paul said, “I have heard of them.”

“Turpentine,” Frangois continued, “is, in its natural state,
a thick, honey-looking liquid, and is contained in great quan-
tities in the pine-tree. If one of these trees be chopped
through the bark in the spring-time, turpentine will ooze out,
and the wounded or bruised part becomes solid lightwood. At
another time I will tell you more about this valuable tree,—
the yellow pine,—how it is ‘ boxed’ and ‘ scraped’; and of the
quantities of turpentine that are ‘dipped’ from the ‘ cups’;
and of the process the crude material goes through to be
rendered into different articles of commerce.”

“ Why is this knot called lightwood ?” asked Lucie. “ It is
very heavy.”

“TZ do not know,” Francois answered, “ unless it be on ac-
count of the brilliant /ight it gives when burning.”

The men then proceeded to build up three great fires near
the three heaps of knots that they had brought in; for, being in
a strange place, where they doubted not wild animals abounded,
they deemed it prudent to have plenty of light during the

 

 

SCATTERED BY THE TEMPEST. 127

night. And Marie and her children withdrew within the tent
and retired. We oS

“ What say you, Jeannot,” said Frangois, “ to dividing the
night so that one of us shall stand guard until midnight, while
the other is sleeping; and the other from midnight until day-
light? I see no necessity for both of us being on the watch
at the same time.” 3 i

“T am willing to do what you think best,” said Jeannot ;
“but if you are not very sleepy, I would be glad if you will
consent to stand the first watch, for I can scarcely keep my
eyes open.”

Frangois made no objection to the proposition, and in a few
minutes Jeannot was asleep.

For hours the faithful sentinel made his lonely rounds from
the creek to the great pine; watching, listening, but seeing
naught but the boat that was resting quietly upon the sleep-
ing water beneath the cypress cluster, the great trunks of the
trees, and the little buildings beneath them; hearing no sound
except at times the barking of a fox in the chase, and the
howl of some more savage beast in the far distance. It was
long past midnight before he aroused his companion from his
quiet slumbers and gave into his charge the post that he had
been holding.

Jeannot had not made the round more than two or three
times before he observed, at a little distance in the rear of the
shelter under which Francois had stretched himself out for a
good, sound sleep, two glittering sparks. For some time he
continued to look, but the little sparks remained in the same
place. They were the eyes of some animal upon which the
light was shining. No doubt the creature had been attracted
there by the scent of the provisions. ‘The watchman took a
blazing fagot from the fire and hurled it in the direction of
the fiery eyes, and instantly they disappeared and were seen
no more during the night. ; :

Day at last began to dawn. At first the faintest glimmer
of light came down through the thick foliage upon the sleep-
ing camp; then objects became visible in the woods around ;
and it was not long before the watchman saw through the
little open spaces in the tree-tops near him the rays of the
sing sun gilding the tips of the green cones of the loftiest
JUnipers in the vicinity. Not a soul had stirred yet. Even

 

 
 

 

 

 

128 KATE WEATHERS; OR,

Frangois was sleeping there on the straw beneath the shelter,
in the very position that he had at first taken, forgetful of
earthly cares.

There was no further necessity for the sentinel to walk his
lonely beat. There was the boat moored by her painter to the
cluster of wild roses, resting quietly still on the sleeping creek-
let beneath the cypress cluster; it seemed that she had not
moved a hair’s-breadth during the night, for exactly so she was
at the coming of twilight on the evening before.

Jeannot stepped in and untied the painter, and pushed her
along down the creek. Noiselessly he went, for fear the
slumbers of the quiet sleepers might be disturbed. Soon the
last bend in the winding creeklet was turned, and, looking
through the green arcade before him, the beautiful lake was
in view. The waters were as still and placid as on the morn-
ing before; aye, as the little craft went eddying slowly out
from beneath the roof of lapping branches, Jeannot imagined
that a scene so beautiful and peaceful had never before greeted
his eyes.

He sits with his right hand resting on the end of the idle
oar and gazes out. The long shadows of trees go reaching
almost to the opposite shores. Yonder, upon the shady sur-
face of the glassy flood, are dropped the pink and purple tints
of clouds that float above; and other skies are seen beneath
those floods that arch on downward from the dome above,
forming the perfect sphere of softest blue, with zenith and
nadir both before the eye and a spirit-land clad in summer
green afloat between the two.

While Jeannot sat there silent and as one dreaming, look-
ing in the direction of the head of the lake, a flock of white
cranes arose to view and came winging on in a snowy platoon
toward him. Slowly they flapped their slender wings; now
rising higher than the trees, now swooping almost to the
gleaming plain; now rising in a graceful curve again, now
sinking near the flood, but still platooning on.

They observed not Jeannot, for his boat was in the shadow
of the trees that hung above the creeklet’s mouth; and there
he sat and watched their flight until they came within thirty
rods of him, when again they swooped down, and this time
alighted in the shallow waters near shore.

All unconscious of a stranger’s presence, the beautiful birds

 

SCATTERED BY THE TEMPEST. 129

sported about in the water; now dipping nee pti
the surface, now stretching up their long necks - 1 shal ng
the spray about ; now plashing and washing their w = wins
and now having a ee wild cotillon—all together, an
ing the water high. :

Tia eee Jeannot grasps his oar; the smile that had
been playing on his face has disappeared ; cautiously he Lam
his boat under the stooping boughs, and sits peeping out trom
his hiding-place. :

isiaaety sonia he believe his eyes: a light skiff, paddled by
one who was standing in the middle of it, came shooting out
from the head of the lake upon the broad water, and seemed
now to be approaching directly toward him. As it drew
nearer, he saw that the paddler was an old man, whose white
beard reached down to his waist. He stood erect, and dipped
his slender paddle first on one side then on the other, seeming
all the time to have his eyes fixed upon the cranes. And
though the skiff continued to move on until it got within a
few rods of the birds, they appeared not to be in the least
frightened, but contined to play about‘as before.

At last the old man lifted his paddle into the boat and stood
leaning upon it, still looking at the cranes. Two others were
now seen,—one, a boy, who was sitting at the stern trailing a
short steering paddle in the water behind him; the other, a
girl, who sat in the forward part of the skiff with her face
toward the bow,—they, too, were looking at the cranes. _

“ Gall them, Fawn,” said the old man, addressing the girl,
“and let us return.”

As she arose to her feet, Jeannot saw that she was very
beautiful. She appeared to be about fourteen years old. Her
long black hair hung loosely down over her neck and shoulders,
and was kept off her forehead by a band of platted rushes.
She wore neither shoes, nor covering for her head; and her

dress, which extended but a few inches below her knees, was
made of the soft skins of the speckled fawn. :

Jeannot observed that while the girl stood there looking to-
ward the birds, waving her hands, and moving her head and
body in a variety of simple and graceful attitudes, the cranes,
with their necks stretched up, were looking toward her and
moving their heads about, as if imitating her gestures.

< ”
“Call them, Fawn,” repeated the old man, “and let usreturn,
Fe

 

—_

 

 
 

 

 

 

 

 

130 KATE WEATHERS; OR,

Then in a musical voice the girl seemed to address herself
to one of the birds: “Come, Gracie, with your children!
Come; for we must return. Why was your flight this morn-
ing so far, Gracie? Was it because the sun was so bright
and the sky so blue? or was it that you and your pretty ones
desired to look long upon the white pictures you were drop-
ping upon the sleek waters? Come, Gracie! Come pretty,
vain ones |”

The cranes then arose, and after circling around the skiff
three or four times, each time descending lower and approach-
ing nearer to it, they alighted in it all around the child; and
then she seated herself in their midst; and the birds fondled
their heads and long necks upon her, each seeming desirous to
attract her attention most toward itself. ‘Gracie is becoming
very vain,” she said, as she stroked the neck of one of the
birds that had laid its head upon her shoulder: “ she is very,
very vain to love so to look upon her own picture. But Gra-
cie is indeed very pretty, and she may be vain ; and you too,
little jealousies,” she continued, placing her arms around the
necks of all the others,—“ you too are all very, very vain.”

The old man again dipped his paddle in the water, and, turn-
ing his skiff about, went off in the direction from whence he
had come ; and it was not long before the skiff and its occu-
pants disappeared behind the green fringing at the head of the
lake.

When Jeannot got back to the camp, after an hour’s absence,
he found that considerable excitement was prevailing there.
Frangois in all his imaginings had not been able to imagine
the true cause of his absence and the disappearance of the
boat. He had succeeded in conjuring up a hundred pictures
before his mind, though not a bright one among them all. But
when at last the anxious campers saw with their own eyes the
little craft gliding around the head of the creek and Jeannot
at the sculling-oar, the agony and suspense were at an end,
and instantly Frangois’s gloomy panorama vanished from sight.

“ Jeannot,”’ said Frangois, “ your absence has caused me
great pain. I have been imagining a hundred dark things,—
that Pedro and his band had come upon you unawares and
gagged you, or murdered you, and taken you away with the
boat, and such like. Iam truly rejoiced at your return. But
where have you been?”

 

SCATTERED BY THE TEMPEST. 1381

“TJ have been to the lake,’”’ said Jeannot ; “ but when T left
here I had no intention of remaining more than “

“J do not wonder at your remaining there,” Lucie inter-
rupted. “ Was it not very beautiful ?”

“ Indeed it was far more beautiful than on yesterday

“ Did you see a bear swimming about in it?” asked Paul.

“ No; but I did see something much more surprising

“ What?” asked Paul, stepping nearer to Jeannot.

Then Jeannot told of the cranes and the skiff, and the old
gray-bearded man and the boy, and Fawn.

While Jeannot related his late wonderful experiences, a
group of most attentive listeners was before him. Marie,
holding her sleeping babe on her lap, sat on a log near the tent-
door, the curtain of which was now lifted. Murat was lying
flat on his back on the same log, his head on his mother’s lap,
near the baby’s.. Lucie’s seat was on the straw-covered ground
near her mother’s feet. Frangois sat on a stump at a little dis-
tance from the tent, stooping slightly forward and gazing into
the speaker's face. And Paul stood only a few feet in front of
the speaker, holding his hands behind him, gazing earnestly
up and drinking every word that was said. Jeannot spoke
with great warmth, and silent were all his heafers.

The tale was told. Neither Paul nor Lucie doubted the
truth of a word that they had heard ; a trace of skepticism was
on Marie’s face ; Frangois laughed aloud at Jeannot’s dream ;
the babe was asleep; and little Murat had paid no atten-
tion whatever to the story, silent though he had been: for in
truth his eyes during the whole time had been fixed on a little
crimson-headed woodpecker that was clinging to the dead limb
of a tree near by; and he had enough to do to wonder why it
was that the bird continued to cling there and beat his bead
So unmercifully against the dead limb. :

“ How glad I would be to see Fawn !’’ said Lucie. :

“Tam sure I could steer a skiff with a short paddle,” said
Paul.

“ Jeannot,” said Francois, “ you are in great need of sleep,
and as the day is before you, it will be wise in you to retire to
rest without loss of time; then, after five or six hours of good
Sound slumber you will be better able to see things as they
are. Now I am very sure, from your serious and earnest
manner, that you verily believe that you have witnessed the

 

”

 

 

 

 
 

 

 

 

 

132 KATE WEATHERS; OR,

things that you have told us about; but disabuse your mind,
my friend, for believe me you have only been having a fanciful
dream. You were very tired when you got out there and sat
down on the stern-seat and looked upon the beautiful lake and
its surroundings, and no doubt you dropped off to sleep in a
few minutes; then, forthwith, you went to dreaming about
cranes, and an old man with a long gray beard, and a beauti-
ful girl clothed in fawn-skins and all that: it was natural
enough for a dream, under the circumstances, and yet every
man is not poet enough to have such a dream. Did you ever
attempt the writing of poetry, Jeannot? If not, I would
advise that you begin forthwith, for I doubt not you would
prove a success. Put some of your fancy dreams into verse,—
begin with this that you have had this morning: make a
magician of the old man; give wings to Fawn; let the skiff
be a chariot of gold, lined with the pearly scale that lines the
shell of a Ceylon oyster; the rim of the wheels may be of
agate, the hubs may be diamonds, and the spokes—well, they
may be radiations from the glistening hubs, each spoke a dis-
tinct color, violet, indigo, blue, green, etc., or let them be mere
silvery glitters, as you may prefer; harness the cranes, and let
them draw the Sorgeous chariot ; put the ribbons in the boy’s
hands and let him drive; let Fawn ride as high as she will,
or rather, as high as old Graybeard will permit, for be sure to
have him conveniently by with wand in hand whenever his
services may be needed. Take the hint, Jeannot, and my
word for it you will have no cause to regret your pains and
waste of brain, for a book of such poems will be sure to take,
and ten to one if copies enough of it would not be sold to pay
for the publication in full, and leave surplus enough after that
to buy paper for another book, and that is saying a great deal
for home poetry.”

Jeannot, who stood patiently listening, was at first much
inclined to get miffed, but there came such a comical expression
upon Frangois’s face before he got through that every one
present laughed, Jeannot as heartily as the rest.

“ Well, Frangois,” he said, “I can only promise that you
shall be convinced.”

‘Was the boy that had the short paddle as big as I am?”
asked Paul, standing erect and stretching himself to the
utmost as he spoke.

,

re ”

 

SCATTERED BY THE TEMPES Ts 133

“TJ judge he was somewhat larger, Master Paul, ra = I
only saw him sitting, I cannot positively say how large he was.

4 the color of Fawn’s eyes?” asked Lucie.

‘ stu ts near enough to know that,” Jeannot answered.

“Tet them be soft hazel or jet black, said Frangois,
“ either will be in harmony with the hair ; let her have black,
gracefully-arching brows, and lashes thick and long. Can a
second thought, Jeannot, I should let the old man hold the
ribbons and ride, and leave the boy out of the poem al-
together, for he was a lazy lubber to sit there steering with a
short paddle, and leave that poor old man all the work to do.

CHAPTER XIII.

THE CAMPERS PLAY HAVOC WITH THEIR NEIGHBORS.

JEANNOT, who had the last watch on the second night as
on the first, agreeably to previous arrangement, awoke Fran-
gois very early on the next morning. ‘“ Come,’ he said, “ arise
and let us be going; it may be that yow too will have a fanci-
ful dream, and if so, you may take a share in my poem.”
Paul and Lucie were then called in a loud voice, and it was
not long before both their heads were seen peeping out from
beneath the tent-curtain. F

During at least one-half of the night previous Paul had
been lying wide awake, having the oddest fancies that could be
thought of running through his head. He would imagine
himself to be at the mouth of the creek, looking out. Soon
a light skiff would make its appearance 1n the distance and
come skimming along near to where he was ; hundreds of milk-
white cranes would accompany the skiff, some of them swim-
ming along behind it, some at the sides, some before it, ane
some flying over it. He could see in the boat a stern 0
giant, with bushy, white whiskers extending down to his age ;

a beautiful, black-eyed girl, with a profusion of glossy cur :

Streaming over her shoulders, bareheaded and barefooted, an

clad in neatly-fitting garments of light-brown fur; and a boy,

12

 

1» a wa a ra
 

 

 

 

134 KATE WEATHERS; OR,

not quite as large as himself, steering with a short paddle,
And when at last he fell away to sleep, even then busy fancy
continued her work; and he did nothing but dream and
dream of beautiful bright lakes, and nymphs and mermaids
swimming and diving about in the clear waters, or singing the
Sweetest strains that mortal ear ever listened to. Nor was the
long chain of happy dreams once broken until Jeannot’s voice
was heard calling, “ Paul, Paul, come, you and Lucie, for we
are about to start out to the lake!”

The boy had not more than got his eyes open before he be-
gan calling out at the top of his voice, “ Lucie, Lucie, Lucie,
come! we are about to start off this very minute to see the old
man and Fawn and the boy. Come, come, or you will be left !”

“Oh, please don’t leave me, Jeannot!” said Lucie; as she
put out her head and looked towards the men. “ Please don’t
leave me, for I am coming now, and will not detain you a
minute!” But after all the fear of being left, Lucie was the
very first one at the boat.

The boat, containing the two men and Lucie and Paul, was
moved quietly out, and carefully concealed under the droop-
ing boughs near the ereeklet’s mouth, and there, to Jeannot’s
great chagrin and disappointment, the patient watchers con-
tinued for two long hours, and no glimpse in the time of cranes
or skiff or the three strange persons; and the party returned
to camp, Jeannot crestfallen, Lucie and Paul sadly disap-
pointed, Frangois firmly convinced that his companion had
had a dream.

“ Frangois,” said Jeannot, when the two men had got back,
and were sitting upon a log under the great pine, “I feel
quite sure that there is a creek that continues on back from
the head of the lake, similar to the one at the fuot of it ; and
I am equally sure, from what I have seen, that there are per-
sons dwelling in this wilderness not far from us. Suppose we
take the boat to-morrow and go out on a voyage of discovery ?
We may learn something to our benefit, and I have a great
7 to know more of the strange people that I saw in the
skiff.”

Frangois smiled. “TI am as desirous of being informed
about the place that we have come to,” he said, “ as you are;
but I think we ought to be exceedingly cautious in our move-
ments: danger may be crouching in ambush near us, ready to

rush forth and overwhelm us at any mome

it would not be p
same time, and leave the defen D
all alone ; some terrible misfortune mig

our absence, and then
cease to censure ourselves.
about us in every direction for some pat

 

SCATTERED BY THE TEM PEST. 135

nt. No, Jeannot,

t the
t for us both to go from camp a
“gem celess mother and children here

eht overtake them in
T am sure neither of us would ever after

True, we must not cease to look
h that will lead us

again into the civilized world, when we shall be prepared to

leave here, but the time to start has not yet ae —
must not for an instant forget how high an office Poe

undertaken. We have volunteered to protect and care for the
weak, to save them from harm, and to restore to a
natural protector; and this fact must be first in our thoughts,
and all efse secondary. For the time we are resting In peace
(dark as the skies still are), and there is hope; but one ce
step may place us in a position whence hope will be hid. v4
us hold our present advantage, then, with prudent watchful-
ness; let us be as cautious as the vanguard that feels its way

through the dark ravines and defiles of the enemy’s country,—
as cautious as the outer picket on his midnight watch.

Noble victory or ignoble defeat must be the result of our
undertaking.” Slee

Jeannot could but admit that his companion’s view of the
situation was correct, and yet his desire to solve the mystery
was ever on the increase. Morning after morning he pushed
out to the lake, and sat watching from early dawn until sun-
light came streaming over the wild scenes; yet morning after
morning he returned disappointed to camp, for no skiff nor
strange people made their appearance after that first be re

Nearly two weeks had passed quietly away at camp. Vuring

that time the men were continually busy at one thing an-
other,—clearing paths back into the woods, meee
the small growth and removing it from the grounds pare
tent, and making simple inventions for the pleasure . 4 -
ment of the children. Marie’s was the only — u : ea
be seen, for the children were continually dee aring e a 2
only papa were with them, they would prefer to hace . p>
the peaceful wilderness rather than go back to the aot e es y-

Much of Francois’s time was spent in rind pe’ Ad Ww a
he had great fondness. Nor could he have found a better p

to enjoy himself in that way. Game was so plentiful in the

 

enna e
 

 

136 KATE WEATHERS; OR,

forest around that it was not long before the campers had
abundance of fresh meat on hand, and furs enough to make
them comfortable through the coming winter, if it should so
be that they would have to remain so long. A great number
of odds and ends of things had been found under the bow and
stern-seat of the boat,—odds and ends that had been accumu-
lating there for years past; and many of these Frangois and
Jeannot now put toa good use. There were fall-and-tackle, pul-
ley-blocks, iron hooks, nails, spikes, wire, a marline-spike, rope-
yarn, cord, a quantity of old rope, flint-and-steel, tinder-box,
punk, and other things, few of which would have been worth
the having to persons differently situated, but every one of
which were of so great value now as to be actually beyond
price. Many of these things Frangois had occasion*to use in
the construction of his traps, and others Jeannot found to be
useful and convenient in the making up of his fisherman’s outfit.

Francois had a score or more of traps, some of which were
set away back a mile or more from camp. In these were
taken great numbers of raccoon, mink, otter, foxes, wild cats,
and other animals, and it was seldom that the trapper returned
without bringing as much game as he could lug. The con-
sequence was that in a short time a great number of skins
were hanging on the trees about the camp, and it was a common
thing to see a dozen or more carcasses hanging in the cool
shade to be cured and dried for present and future use.

Jeannot and Paul preferred to fish in the creek. Master
Paul was in a short time almost as perfect in the science of
angling as his preceptor; and many the pickerel that were
fried in the broken kettle.

Lucie and Murat, when the rest were away, would amuse
themselves for hours together gathering green twigs and leaves
and red berries, and weaving long wreaths and festooning them
both on the inside and outside of the tent, and twining them
around the bodies of the trees near by.

Marie, as has been said, was the only sorrowful one of the
campers. Though thankful to her generous protectors, and
glad that her children were happy, yet time was dragging along
at a slow, sad pace for her. The life before her was a dark
desert through which she could only grope, for it was a feeble
ray that fell upon it. True, there was hope yet, but fear was
ever whispering to her stricken heart that the worst had be-

-

   
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
   
  
  
  
   
  
 
 
    

137

SCATTERED BY THE TEMPEST.

fallen him for whom ved sorrowed—that a be =
g that he had been murdere

Se atk cnet return to his loved ones. yee ve: eg #4
would say, He may live; he may have escaped trom “

clutches of those bad men; he may even now be reed y;
searching for the lost. She knew that it was best that a
should remain where they were for the present, for it we ;
be worse than folly to expose themselves to the dangers rs
could only end in their ruin, without accomplishing any good.

Were it not that her little ones were in the question, she would
advocate a different course, but their welfare must be thought

of first of all; and she would prefer that they, with a
should die in the wilderness, rather than that they shoul
again full into the hands of the desperadoes from whom they
had escaped. Nor did she doubt but that the dwellers on the
sea-coast were a rude people, who would resent in the severest
manner the taking away of the boat; and so, in any view of
the case, it would be but madness to return to the sea-coast
yet, though there they must go in the end. Yes, for the
present she would have to abide in the wilderness. All was
with a merciful God, and she would bear up and hope still.
The twelfth day at the camp on the island opened with one
of those tranquil mornings so common to the Carolina autumn.
The sun had not risen high when Frangois went to his traps,
and Jeannot and Paul to their fishing, and Lucie and Murat
to their gathering of leaves and twigs to weave into wreaths.
All was calm and peaceful, and no sounds were heard except
the woodpecker's clatter, and the occasional sweet notes of =
swamp oriole ringing and echoing through the shady nee
Gorgeous scenes were on every hand, as seen from the lake.

Near the water's edge were thick g
juniper, forests of gum and maple of thousa

arose like pict
away, and loftier than all, th
arose. And other groves, an
towering pines were seen Inver
all so softened, mellowed by sun
through the azure haze of Indian summer.

It was near noon as Jeann

: a
from the ereek, lugging their fish along.

“J think,” said Paul, “if me go on at this rate,

 

roves of the deep-green
nd-tinted foliage

ured hills behind the green, and farther still
e island pines as one great cone
d other tinted mounds, and other
ted in the dreamy flood ; and
light that came streaming

ot and Paul ascended the slope

it will not

 

Ss ae ae nee aS RN AR PR AB

 
 

138 KATE WEATHERS; OR,

be a great while before we shall get every fish out of the creek:
we have taken fifty before these ten; that is an average of five
each day for the twelve days that we have been here. Really
I hope that papa will consent to live here when he comes, for
it is a nice place.”

“ And yet, Master Paul, there are better places than this to
live at, and there are better things to do than to catch fish too;
but see, Frangois is just getting in with his game. Whata
load he has !”

“Indeed it is a load!” said Paul; “he cannot walk erect
with it. Do you see how he is hanging his head and stooping
forward? This is a lucky day for us all.”

Frangois, who was aiming toward the great pine, reached it
at the same time that Jeannot and Paul did, and dumping his
load to the ground, seemed to be very glad to be able to
straighten himself up again. ‘“ Well, Master Paul,” he said,
as he raised the grizzly head of a great black bear, by its hair,
before the boy’s face, “you see I have at last captured Mr.
Bruin. A noble fellow, too, isn’t he ?”

Though Paul, upon several previous occasions, had talked
very courageously about killing bears, he was not slow now to
step back toa respectful distance from Mr. Bruin’s grinning head.

“Have no fears,” said Frangois, laughing, “for there is
nothing here, as you see, but the head.”

“One wild cat, one otter, two coons, two rabbits, and one
mink,” called Jeannot, counting the animals that Francois
had dumped in a pile, “and besides all that, one bear. Really,
Frangois, you are playing havoe with our neighbors !”

“Why did you not bring the monster’s body ?” asked Paul.
“ Had it four legs ?”

“JT will answer your last question first,” said Frangois.
“ This bear had four legs, as other bears have; then, the rea-
son that I did not bring the body is, because I could not: four
or five hundred pounds is rather more than a man of my dis-
position fancies attempting to lug through a dense woods the
distance of a mile. But I shall return to the trap for the
skin, and ¢hat I will bring in.”

“'To put into your ‘curiosity shop,’ I suppose ?” said Paul.

“ Not exactly, Master Paul. We will before a great while
have the cool weather upon us, and that skin will serve the
place of a blanket; it has answered that purpose in part for

 

 

SCATTERED BY THE TEMPEST. 139

Bruin during at least half a century past, and, as he bier nr
no further use for it, there is no reason why we should no

. . ”
appropriate it to our own use.

«“ A blanket of a bear-skin!” Paul exclaimed. “TI am very

sure that I for one will never sleep under such a blanket !”

“ And why not, pray?” :
“ Why, ch I could not sleep; for I should be in con-

tinual dread of being devoured!” said Paul, with an expres-
sion of genuine horror upon his face. “ No, indeed; no bear-
skin blankets for me!”

“ But you see that I have already cut off the biting part;

don’t you see it here in my hand? How could you be bitten
by a thing that has no mouth,—no head in fact ?”

“I know very well that a Lear-skin cannot bite,” said Paul,

glancing at the savage head, “ and yet I might dream that it
could. I shall sleep under no bear-skin blankets, Frangois !”

“ Very well, then,” said Frangois, laughing heartily ; “ but

if you will not consent to sleep under a bear-skin blanket, prob-
ably you will not object to dining on bear-beef to-day ?”

“ Bear-beef! is bear-beef proper food to be eaten ?”
“ T have never tasted it,” said Frangois, “ but I know of no

reason why it should not be wholesome food. The flesh is

very coarse, and this old fellow is probably tough, but for all
that I shall try some of it for my dinner to-day.”

“What does the bear subsist on?” asked Lucie, who had
come up to the group, and stood looking at the ugly head that
Francois was still holding by its hair. ;

“He is both carnivorous and frugiverous,”’ Frangois an-
swered ; “that is, he feeds upon both flesh and fruits or vege-
tables. The black-gum berry (of which there is great abun-
dance hereabout) is especially relished by him, and it is not
an unusual thing to see the black-gum tree stripped of its
branches from bottom to top,—the work of Bruin. Many
times, while attending my traps, my attention was attracted
to these trimmed trees, and I wondered what the cause could
be, one of the most unaccountable things to me being that

only this particular species of tree should be stripped. Nor
was the mystery solved until yesterday. While going my
rounds yesterday, and when well back in the desert, I was
startled ‘at the loud report of the breaking of a bough at a
little distance from my path. After pausing a few minutes tc

 
 

 

140 KATE WEATHERS; OR,

consider, I concluded to venture toward the point from whence
the sound came, so as to learn the cause of it, for, having the
axe and my knife along, I felt able to defend myself in case
of an attack upon me. I soon discovered, nearly in the top
of one of these black gums, which was but a few rods from
me, a great black bear. One of his forepaws was grasping
the body of the tree, and with the other he was bending the
twigs up to his mouth and crunching the berries that grew on
them. I was concealed from his view by a thick cluster of
reeds ; so I stood there for a full half-hour, peeping through
the cluster at the brute, who seemed to be highly relishing his
dinner. The limb from which he was eating was the one,
no doubt, that I had heard snap: it was not broken entirely
off, but was hanging down along the body of the tree. It
was fully three inches in diameter, and how the bear could
have broken such a limb, situated as he was, I could not begin
to understand; nor had I supposed that so heavy and seem-
ingly clumsy an animal could climb the perpendicular body of
a tree for more than thirty feet. But I had not long to wait
for an explanation of the matter, for, to my great astonishment,
I saw another, larger than the first, ascending in a very nimble
manner. The bear above ceased eating, and grinned down
horribly at the intruder; but, as he no doubt fully understood
the meaning of the grin that was returned from the upturned
face, he left his place and ascended still higher, and forthwith
prepared to dap another limb. The first thing he did was to
fix himself in a good position in a fork of the tree; then,
grasping the body of the tree with his left paw, he reached
out his right as far as he could and seized with it the limb
that he wished to snap. Then by a quick movement he put
his whole strength and weight against it, and, after bending
almost double, the bough snapped and hung down as the first.
No sooner had the lower observed this than he ascended and
took possession. Such angry snarling and snapping as then
took place I never had witnessed.

“Tt then occurred to me to creep cautiously toward the tree
and make a loud noise, so as to frighten them and cause them
to fall or leap from the top of the tree; in either case I doubted
not they would be instantly killed. So I crept on until I got
within two rods of the tree, when a stick cracked beneath my
feet, the noise of which instantly attracted the angry monsters’

 

 

 

SCATTERED BY THE TEMPEST. 141

' attention. Only an instant they paused and glared down at

me; then the highest one leaped clear of the tree and came
heavily to the ground, while the other stuck his great claws
in the tree and slid rapidly down, tearing the bark in a cloud
as he came crashing on his haunches. I could not see them
from where I stood on account of the thick undergrowth be-
tween me and the tree, but I rushed forward, holding the axe
over my head ready to deal rapid and deadly blows if so be
that a single spark of life should be left in them. But lo!
when I got there both bears were up and gone.”

“T hope I may never meet a bear!” said Paul, with a
shudder.

“Tf you should do so, it is probable that you would turn

and run one way and he the other, for he is an arrant coward.
But where has Jeannot gone ?”

“Here I am,” Jeannot answered, as he came up dragging a
great loggerhead by its tail. “I spied this fellow making his

way toward the creek, so I put off in pursuit, and soon cap-
tured him.”

“ What sort of monstrous brute is that?” asked Paul.

“A turtle,” Francois answered ; “a noble fellow too: what
a feast we shall have of him!”

“ Feast !” said Paul ; “ feast! surely so disgusting an object
is not good for food !”

“Good for food?” said Jeannot; “are you not fond of turtle-
soup, Paul?”

“Turtle-soup!” Paul said; “I know of nothing better!
But Jeannot, is it possible that turtle-soup is made of such
things as that you are holding by the tail? See how he snaps
at everything that comes near him! Ugh! if turtle-soup is
made of such things as that, I shall eat no more of it!”

These earnestly-spoken words were followed by such loud
laughter from both the men, that Murat came running up to
inquire the cause. i

“Murat,” said Jeannot, “ your big brother says he will eat

no more turtle-soup.” ; :
“ And I hope you will not, either,” said Paul, as he placed

his right hand on the little fellow’s curly head. “ Do you see
that great ugly snapper, little Bobkins? Jeannot says they
make turtle-soup of such things!”

“T am much afraid, Master Paul,” said Jeannot, “ that

 

 

 
   
   

 

 

142 KATE WEATHERS; OR,

after a little while you will be after dropping bull-frog also
from your bill of fare.”

“ Bull-frog? Have no fear of that, Jeannot! I only wish

‘we had frogs for our dinner to-day, instead of this ferocious
reptile. I am sure I could eat half a dozen of them myself.”

“T am sorry, then, on your account, that I succeeded in
capturing only four this morning,” said Jeannot. “It was

y mere chance that I came upon a nest of them yesterday,
and succeeded in getting a dozen; and it would not be
reasonable to expect to have such luck as that every day.
However, as I said, I took four this morning,—and much finer
specimens they are than those of yesterday, too. See, I have
them securely pegged to the bark of the tree; so that, if they
should come to life again, they will not be able to escape. I
have lost several in that-way in times past, which caused me
to put my inventive powers on the strain: the result is as you
see there—I have learned to keep them safely, dead or alive.
Observe how simple the invention: after killing the frog
stone dead, by mashing his head as flat as a pancake, I whittle
out a little two-pronged peg, which I punch through one of his
hind feet ; then, using the handle of my knife as a hammer, I
drive the points of the peg into the bark of the tree, as you
see there. Now, let him come to life, and kick as he pleases:
that peg will hold him!”

“A very ingenious contrivance!” said Francois. ‘ Lose no
time in getting a patent: it may prove a fortune to you!”

“Do bull-frogs come to life after being killed?” asked
Murat.

“ Aye, indeed,” said Jeannot. ‘TI am told that it has been
known to be the case that even after the frog has been skinned,
gutted, peppered, salted, and put on the fire to fry, he has
taken an eccentric notion that he won’t be cooked, and leaped
out of the hot frying-pan and actually made his escape! Now,
if it were not that Paul lacks two of enough for his dinner, I
would take one of these fellows down and put him on the
ground, with his fetters off. In a few minutes you would see
him rise on his haunches; then he would open his eyes and
wink them, one at a time; then he would gradually swell him-
self out, round and plump, again; and in two hours’ time he
would be sufficiently strong and calculating to strike off to-

wards the creek in a bee-line,—in ten-feet leaps, at’that! Yes,

iain as

 
   
   
   
   
   
    
 
   
   
   
   
   
   
   
   
   
    
 
    
    
   
   
   
   
   
   
   
   
   
   
   
   
   
   
   
    
 
   

 

SCATTERED BY THE TEMPEST. 143

Murat, you are never positively sure of bull-frog until you get
your teeth on it!”

Paul was as still and as mute as an oyster during the whole
time that Jeannot was speaking; he did nothing but gaze up
at the frogs. There they hung side by side, each pinned by
one hind foot to the bark of the tree ; each with the long, un-
fettered leg hanging limberly down, and reaching several
inches below the head: there they were, with their black
backs, white bellies, green heads, wide mouths, and great,
wild, protruding eyes, presenting a singular spectacle. All
seeming to be dead, yet each twittering with convulsions at

times, and occasionally winking his eyes. At last the aston-
ished boy spoke:

“ Are they not lizards ?”
“ Lizards? Certainly not !” .

Paul was silent a moment; not once had he taken his eyes
from the frogs: ‘ Are they bull-frogs ?”

“ Indeed they are,—and fine specimens.”

The boy’s nose and upper lip curled slightly upwards, the
lower lip slightly downwards,—every feature of his face took
some part in assisting to make up the perfect picture of con-
tempt and disgust. “TI shall never more taste bull-frog !” he
said. ‘T would starve first !”

The loud and continued peals of laughter that followed this
for several minutes rang and echoed around.

That day the dinner-table groaned under the weight of
steaming dishes, but Paul could not be prevailed upon to eat
anything but ship-bread and fried pickerel.

CHAPTER XIV.

A MOONLIGHT EXCURSION ON PICTURE RIVER.

)

Francots, who was ever getting up some new thing to
Please the children at the camp, and render them as contented
With their condition as possible, proposed to them one morning,
as they were all seated on the logs near the kitchen, that on
the evening of the full of the moon (which would occur one

 

 
 

 

 

144 KATE WEATHERS; OR,

week from that day) they should make an excursion upon the
lake, provided the weather should be pleasant and the skies
clear ; and provided the mother should give her consent.

He could have suggested nothing calculated to give them
greater pleasure. They were in eestacies at the very thought ;
and even Jeannot—who had no hint that such a proposition
would be made—seemed highly delighted-at the prospect of a
moonlight excursion upon the’water. “No doubt,” he said,
“we shall have a very pleasant time of it; for the woods and
waters, I am sure, will appear even more wild and beautiful by
the full-moon light than they do in the day. Let us go on the
excursion by all means.”

“Oh, by all means,” said Lucie. “I am sure mamma
will not only consent for us to go, but I think she herself
will go. Will it be a whole week yet, Francois, before the
full of the moon? How I do hope it will be pleasant and
clear on that evening !”

“Do not set your heart upon it,” said Francois, “ until you
have mentioned the matter to your mother and obtained her
consent to go; for it may be that she will have good cause to
object. Speak to her about it, and then let me know whether
she favors it.”

“T know she will not object,” said Lucie, as she and Paul
and Murat ran off as fast as they could go towards the tent ;
“but I will return, Frangois, and tell you what she says.”’

When the children got into the tent they found their mother
sitting near her babe, that was sleeping upon one of the moss-
beds, She had been weeping, for traces of tears were still on
her face. Her deep grief, though seldom expressed by words,
the sad face plainly enough told ; and the lonely life that she
had been leading for several weeks past only had the effect of
deepening the heart’s wounds; and it seemed that at times, in
spite of her noble patience and fortitude, she would fall under
the weight that was pressing so heavily upon her.

Marie kissed and embraced her happy children.

“ Are you ill, dear mamma?” asked Paul, anxiously.

“ No, not ill, dear boy, but. very, very sorrowful.”

“ Mamma,” said Murat, “we are all going out in the boat
to see the lake and the moon,—Frangois and Jeannot, and Paul
and Lucie, and me and baby and you,—we are all going; and
won't we have a nice time! Then I think we shall see the boy

 

SCATTERED BY THE TEMPEST. 145

that lives down under the water and has a cap like mine;
won’t we, mamma ?”

“ Yes, mamma,” said Lucie, “ Frangois proposes to take us
on an excursion on the evening of the full moon, which he
says will be in a week from to-day. That is, we will go if you
are willing.” :

“ And it will make you feel better to go, dear mamma,” said
Paul ; “I know it will. Will you not consent ?”

“T cannot have it in my heart, dear children,” said the
mother, “ to refuse your request; therefore, you have my con-
sent, provided the weather be favorable. It may be that baby
and I will also go.”

Again the happy children kissed their mother; then they
ran off with the glad answer to Francois.

Lucie, during that slow week, was in a state of continual
nervousness. She feared that when the evening should come

it would be a cloudy and unpleasant one, or that something
might take place to prevent their going. Paul, too, was ex-
cited and impatient: he was continually counting the hours
that intervened between himself and the promised gladness;
and more than fifty times during that week of waiting he asked
Frangois and Jeannot whether they thought it would be clear,
pleasant weather on the coming Thursday.

But, in spite of all the nervousness and impatience, that
week passed in exactly the time that any other week had ever
passed. And when Thursday evening came, the round moon,
arose over the still wilderness in unclouded splendor. The
winds were asleep ; not a leaf was seen to tremble.

“ Come,” said Paul to the men, before the shadows of even-
ing had fairly begun to gather around the camp; “I think it
is time for us to be going. I have been down to the creek,
and bailed every drop of water out of the boat, so that mamma
and Lucie may not get their feet wet. Look through
there ; is it not moonshine on the tips of yonder trees? Really
T am afraid we shall be too late, after all! Is it not moonshine,
Jeannot ?” Ses

“ Yes, Master Paul,” said Jeannot, “the moon is rising, and
that is its light on the tips of the trees; but we shall reach
the lake in good time, for all that.” ; :

“T think I have heard you say that the lake is prettiest at
early morning, when the shadows upon it are long.”

ce) 1:

 

pnt ida Laie pia a Raich
 

 

 

 

 

 

 

146 KATE WEATHERS; OR,

“ True,” Jeannot said ; “‘ but there is a very great difference
in the appearance of things viewed by sunlight and moon-
light. The lake is, indeed, beautiful when the slanting
shadows of early morning are upon it; but you must remem-
ber that very many objects that are seen by sunlight would be
invisible or but indistinctly seen by the brightest moonlight,—
in other words, moonlight scenes have not the glorious bril-
liancy and distinctness of scenes by sunlight, however weird
and beautiful they may be. The long shadows of morning
hide but few of the leading features of the landscape; they
tend rather to soften and mellow the picture that would glare
without them, and render it, therefore, more pleasing to the
eye; whereas night shadows are apt to conceal many of its
choicest beauties.”

“ But why wait here?” asked Paul. “I am sure it would
be as well to push out to the creeklet’s mouth and wait there
for the long shadows to draw in to the shores.”

“There are reasons for not going out now,” Jeannot said :
“one is, that we are not yet prepared; another, that nothing
would be gained, but much lost, by doing so. We are most
pleased when the scene of glory bursts in all its brilliancy sud-
denly upon us. True, we may be pleased to sit and watch
the gradual coming out of a glory scene, as beautiful feature
after feature rises in the light; but the beauties in view pre-
pare us for those that are coming, and when they come we
_ greet them more tamely,—half the pleasure has come and gone

with the expectation.”

Paul said nothing more, but turned and sauntered down to
the creek, and took his seat in the boat, with the mental de-
termination to wait there until the rest of the party came.

The two men went off in another direction, and forthwith
they began making preparation for the kindling of the fires
which they intended to leave burning brightly during their
absence.

“Tt occurs to me for the first time,” said Frangois, “ that
we are not acting prudently in deserting the camp as we are
about to do, and that, too, at night. I am afraid that even the
blazing of those huge fires will not be sufficient to keep back
the hungry animals that are continually prowling near us. It
would be a sad calamity if we should lose the precious con-
tents of the cupboard ; for, though we have no present need

5 ee eee illnesses

 

SCATTERED BY THE TEMPEST. 147

for them, yet the time may not be far distant when we would
hot be willing to exchange our store of dried and smoked meats
for the richest gold mine on earth. Nota night passes, as you
know, but that that fiery-eyed monster is seen skulking noise-
lessly about under the shadows of the trees. Without doubt
he has unfriendly designs, and is only waiting for a fair oppor-
tunity to execute them. At one time during my watch last
night he became so bold as to venture within a few rods of
me, and I was really fearful that he would make the attack in

Spite of me and the blazing fires and the burning fagots that I
hurled at him. The skins and fresh meats that hang on the
trees have been sore temptations to the hungry creatures for
weeks past; and the addition of the quarter of bear that I

brought in a few mornings ago will, in all probability, make
them more fierce and daring to-night than heretofore.”

‘Suppose, Francois,” said Jeannot, “that we go to work
now and make a log-trap near our shelter? With your late
experience at the business of trapping, and my assistance, I
think it will not take long to make one ; then, what an excel-
lent bait a large piece of that bear-meat will make.”

‘A capital idea !” said Francois; “and strange it never oc-
curred to me to set a trap very near the camp-ground, since
the prowlers have been growing so bold. We will follow your
suggestion, Jeannot.”

The two men then went earnestly at the task, and in less
than half an hour the trap was set and baited. The whole
party then went and got in the boat; and in a few minutes
they were moving along through the shady arcade toward the
lake. They paused a time at the crecklet’s mouth, and looked
silently out on the quiet scenes.

“ Be very, very quiet, my children,” said Marie, who was
entranced by the scene: “ speak not, even in whisper !”

.“ Nor make the least noise upon the boat as we drift along
With the sluggish current in the shade of this shore,” said
Francois. '

. Nor even arise from your seats,” said Jeannot.

Nor fall into that water, little Bobkins,” said Paul to
platy who was kneeling in the bottom of the boat, leaning

Sib gunwale and gazing down at the picture. “ You may

a upon it, if you were to shoot out of the boat head-

ost from where you are, you would never stop going

 

 
 

 

 

 

 

148 KATE WEATHERS; OR,

down until you should find yourself standing on your head on
that bright star directly under you; and I should say that that
is at least forty miles beneath us.”

“ T wish I could fly about over the water,” Lucie whispered.

Then quiet was restored, and for half an hour the boat
went slowly drifting along the shore. No sound, not even a
whisper, was heard during that half-hour; no sound, except
now and then the hooting of the far-away owl, or the occa-
sional crank of the gray-heron that was passing on her solitary
way high above the lake, and away on still over the slumber-
ing wildernesses,—so high her flight, so faint her seldom crank,
that every sound seemed falling through the silvery blue from
some far world to this.

“See! see!” said Jeannot, in tremulous whisper, at the
same time pointing toward the head of the lake: “see! the
skiff!”

Frangois stooped forward, holding his right hand above his
eyes to shield them from the light that glimmered around, and
gazed intently: “Yes, a skiff !”

“ A skiff!” said Marie, peering through the haze: “it is
coming in this direction !”

“ Let us hold fast. to these boughs, Jeannot,” said Frangois,
“and remain here quietly by the shore.”

“Qh!” said Lucie, tremblingly, “ we may see Fawn !”

“J wish I knew that boy’s name,” said Paul, vainly attempt-
ing to appear calm.

“ Be quiet, now !” said Marie; “ they are nearing us 1

« Will they not see us here and turn back ?” Lucie asked.

“ No,” said Frangois, “for we are here in the deep shade
and have the dark line of woods behind us: but be very still,
or they may hear us. There are three: the old man stands
paddling. It is as Jeannot said.”

«The old man has taken his paddle in the boat. How still
they are!” said Jeannot.

“ And what a lovely place they have halted at, in the open-
ing of that bay!” said Frangois. _“ How still they continue |
not aword has been spoken yet. Sh!—the old man speaks !”

“This is the place, dear children. Could Echo and her
fairies find a lovelier dwelling-place? How lightly falls the
silvered veil upon yon trees! it may be that the airy sprites
are resting now beneath them. Call, ‘Timon !”

 

SCATTERED BY THE TEMPEST. 149

Th . . .
e boy arose and called, in a musical voice: “ Ech-o !”

S . : . : . 4
% a Bae eg from the juniper fringing at the side of

Fawn then arose and called: “Sweet Ech-o !”
The answer came: “ Sweet Ech-o !”

The old man followed in a deep bass monotone: “ Kch-o !”

The answer ¢
came: “Heh-o!” and again, from th i
shore, but more faintly,—“ Eeh-o !” nile ene

The three then called together : “ Ech-o !”

Indeseri : 5
wien Sweet was the answer of mingled voices :

de : :

re toon a return until you sing your song of greeting to
pirit of the Lake, Fawn. I am sure it will sound sweetl

on the still waters.” Ba:

Then the girl sang :

“Spirit of Picture River,—
Thou of the silvery speech —
Hear when a maiden greeteth
Hear when a sister pleadeth ‘g
Wilt thou not come to me?
Oh, from thy hermit dwelling,
Curtained with gloaming shades
Come through the silvern pathway !
Come to my bosom, sweet one! :

Sister, come!”

Fawn paused

and i ingi
on F a voice from the fringing sang

: “ Sister,

“Would I might see thee, Spirit!
Would that these mortal Pa :
Might for an instant see thee
Might but behold thy form, ‘
Know thy immortal beauty,
Though but a glance were all!
Come from thy hermit dwelling!
Come from the gloaming shades!
Come to this loving bosom ! f

Sister, come !”

Again av came rilling throuch the moonli: rht Ss ti
5 o1ce 5 5S i is er.
come VY , :

“Spirit of Picture River,—

Thou of the mellow voice,—

Oh, that I might behold thee!

Deep are the forest shadows

Bright are the silvered trees,
13*
 

 

 

 

150 KATE WEATHERS; OR,

Gleaming the placid waters,

Graceful the dewlit flowers

That are forever pulsing

Fragrance upon the air.

Oh, art thou these, immortal?

Dost thou appear in these?
Sister: These?”

The last words: of the song were said distinctly, and in a
clear, sweet voice; and they were answered from the fringing:
“Sister: These?’ And from points on the opposite shore
came, in whisper: “'These? These? These?”

The skiff then went gliding away toward the head of the
lake.

“ Dear Fawn,” said Lucie, “how I wish I might take you
to my bosom, and press my lips to yours re

« §o do I,” said Paul, innocently. “ And if Timon could
be with us at the camp to-morrow, I would tell him how to
catch pickerel.”

« We must know more of these strange people,” Frangois
said.

“ But how are we to know more of them?” asked Paul.

“ Francois,” said little Murat, “bring your traps up this
way, and set them. Maybe you can catch that old man in
one of them, and then you can get the little ones without any

trouble.”
At hearing this remark, Paul clapped his hands over his

mouth, and it was all he could do by hard pressing to keep
from laughing aloud. For five minutes he dared not venture
to speak. At last he raised his two hands an inch from his
lips, and ready to be clamped back if the laugh should at-
tempt to break out ; and.then, after several ineffectual efforts,
succeeded in saying: “Who ever before heard of setting a log
trap to catch an old man! But, then, suppose he should be
caught, what would you have Frangois do with him, little
Bobkins ?”

“T don’t know,” said Murat, thoughtfully.“ Couldn’t he
cut off his head, and take it to camp, and nail it on the great
pine beside the bear's, buddie ?”

At hearing this question asked, in all seriousness, Paul
tumbled over in the bottom of the boat, and lay there for
some time on his stomach, holding his hand on his mouth
as before, and now wellnigh convulsed.

iit enaiegeeent fit

 

SCATTERED BY THE TEMPEST. 151

The skiff had go
up his head and looked towards it. There was a bright flash

t more than a mile away when Paul raised

on the water, and the iff di
n th
no more. : ada

“What was that flash ?” ask i
‘ ed Paul g to hi
Pe rvise ni are fairies, after all pe Depa es:
: was only the curling of the sleck waters i i
e ¢ th -
light, caused by the old man’s paddle, as bis hea aaa
ued the bend,” said Marie, .
rangois and Jeannot put out their oars i
yh and it
lone aig they had reached the creek and ee: paso: :
ay up toward the camp. But they had not got half

the di

pin Ayugase —— they were startled at hearing most un-
ae : : Sher

ibe clas. g screaming coming from the direction of

Th i

ae i edge now enveloped in almost utter darkness, for

ve tang e ae point in the creek where the overhanging

a eo iS ; ick that not a moon-ray could chante it.
and Jeannot sprang to their fi
7 ; ; eet, and for a ti

stood motionless, grasping their oars ready for defence par

?

for the danger, and :
Ww ar :
ssl orn ondering what those dreadful cries could

Marie hugged her babe clos

sappeared, and was seen

to her b
Paul and Lucie o ~ osom, and trembled ;
4ucle got as near as they could get to her; and little

seni ae knees from the thwart upon which he had
“Pre 8 ~ puried his face in his mother’s lap.

aye ow I understand!” said Francois. “We have

aught the prowler, Jeannot. Let us hasten on ; for, in all

probability, he i ] ‘ ;
there nl he fies usa d by a paw, and if we don’t get

an the boat went rushing on to the landing
= fires were still blazing brightly at the camp.

ss _“ ois leaped to shore and ran with all speed towards the
4p, Only pausing at the kitchen long enough to snatch up

tl .
eehgss eae sure enough, was the monster, held fast by
= orepaws. A great, fiery-eyed panther.
neh 9 the brute turned his head and saw Francois approach-
. a ss . = pgrme axe, se cries became terrific and his
3 Scape desperate ; his great teeth 2

os eyes fairly blazed. : a

ait, wait !" said Jeannot, who came running up, bearing

 

otic enacting Aisin Rn

wine tat Sa
 

 

 

152 KATE WEATHERS; OR,

a stout club in his hands. ‘ Wait, and let me assist you.”
But by the time he reached the trap Frangois had dealt a
powerful blow on the brute’s head, which laid him sprawling
at full length. This blow was rapidly followed up by others,
until the ferocious monster was quite dead.

“ Now you may lie there, my noble fellow, until morning,”
said’ Frangois ; “ then I will take off that sleck brindled coat
that you have been wearing, and appropriate, it to my own
use.”

“J have never seen a more savage-looking -brute,” said
Jeannot. ‘Had he known his own power, and been less
cowardly, he might have routed our entire army with all
ease.”

Jeannot had scarcely finished speaking before the men were
startled at a sound near by, as of some heavy weight falling to
the ground, which was instantly followed by loud and piteous
wails.

“There goes this fellow’s mate,” said Frangois. “She
heard his wails of distress, and came to relieve him. Listen !
her cries grow fainter and fainter as she speeds farther and
farther back into the wilderness. I should have hesitated
before venturing up if I had known that she was sitting on a
limb almost immediately over her suffering mate, glaring her
fierce eyes at me, and, no doubt, almost persuaded to pounce
down upon my head. . I think I shall pause long enough next
time to glance around me.”

“ Jeannot,” called Lucie, from the tent, “ please come here,
for Paul will neither sleep himself nor suffer others to do so
until he can speak with you.”

Jeannot hurried towards the tent. ‘“ What would Master
Paul have with me?” he asked.

“J wish to know,” said Paul, from within, “ what it was
that wailed and screamed so dolefully.”

“Tt was a huge panther that Frangois has caught in a trap
that he set near the great pine, just before we started on the
excursion.”

“Ts the panther dead ?”

“ Yes; and you will see him in the morning.”

“T am very glad,” Paul said, venturing to poke his head
outside the curtain, “that it was only a panther.”

“ What did you think it was?” asked Jeannot.

 

 

SCATTERED BY THE TEMPEST. 153

i - He has had all sorts of fancies about it,” said Marie.
“That the people we saw in the skiff were fairies, who van-
ished in a flash, when they discovered that we had been watch-
ing them, and flew here in advance of us and expressed their
ear. by age rier age and the like. I thank you for
ming, for now that he know: ‘
wg g og shall be able to rest.” ee
y, Paul!” said Jeannot, laughing. “ Fairies, eh ?
no; the sounds you heard were the screams of a naar bot a
i more hurtful animal than a fairy.” ;
Pipe giad of it,” said Paul. “The fact is, Jeannot, after
seis Tee : ash on the water, and observing that the skiff
Murat amps’ Sepa) T began putting that with what
os the oe al — cutting off the old man’s head and nailing it
earn. en I remembered the long beard, and Fawn’s
ge dress, and what you told us of the cranes, and I be-

came a coward, and was much frigh
t ; .
I shall not be a coward again.” Ce ee ee

“T hope not,” said Jeannot.

“
brave little man, Master Paul.” For I had rather see you a

 

CHAPTER XV.

MAKING NEW ACQUAINTANCES.

a ce ow was at last convinced that the skiff and the old
pial pe oi the boy were realities. He could think
ng else, and not o i i
oe mi ; ne hour did he sleep during the
sta hea arranged between the men that Jeannot should start
pe the next day to learn, if possible, something about the
riba a pres — must have their dwelling somewhere above

a ce. © 6) 7 }
soul , and that Francois should remain to protect the
re carly it was on the next morning when Jeannot launched
ee ne ey rey of discovery that at the sunrising he had
om e-head of the lake. Feeling the necessity of being

 

 
 

154 KATE WEATHERS; OR,

extremely cautious in his movements, he was continually look-
ing about him, as he sculled his boat noiselessly along, and
listening for the slightest sounds. But nothing was to be seen
but the beautiful river and the wild forests that bordered it,
and nothing heard but the pattering of dew-drops on the
leaves.

He found (as he had supposed was the case) that a narrow
creek continued on back into the wilderness from the head of
the lake, and into this he passed and moved on for the distance
of about two miles, when, turning an abrupt bend, lo! another
lake, much smaller, but as wild and beautiful as Picture River,
was before him.

No sooner had his boat moved out into the lake than Jean-
not discovered, standing in the water near the opposite shore,
a flock of white cranes, and near them, tied to a little cypress
that grew at the water’s edge, the skiff he had seen morethan
once before.

His first impulse after making the discovery was to push
his boat hurriedly back into the creek, and wait there, peeping
through the tangled growth, for the coming of Fawn to the
shore (for he doubted not but that he was near the dwelling
of the old man), but the cranes had discovered him, and al-
ready they were stalking through the shallow waters towards
the shore; their long necks were stretched up to their utmost
extent as they marched on,.with measured step, and keenly
eyed the strange intruder as they went. Upon reaching the
dry land the cranes halted ; a time they stood there as motion-
less as if they had been figures of marble; then, as if by one
movement, every wing was spread, and the beautiful creatures
went clumsily flapping up among the trees, and were hid from
view.

A minute longer Jeannot continued to stand there,—watch-
ing, listening,—then dipping the oar-blade into the flood again,
he sculled towards the skiff.

The farther on he floated, the broader and bolder opened out
the view before him. The land towards which he was ap-
proaching was an island in the lake, and until now the white
bodies of the great beeches that covered it had been concealed
by the wild, green fringing at the shores. Nor were these all
that had been hid from view: behind the tree to which the
skiff was tied a little maiden stood; her face was from the

 

 

Pets

 

 

SCATTERED BY THE TEMPEST. 155

lake, but, from the dark hair and speckled dress, Jeannot knew
that it was Fawn. ’

. Again the cranes were seen. They had alighted side by
side on a high branch of one of the beeches, not far from
Shore, and it was at them that Fawn was looking when he
discovered her.

Jeannot stood motionless again,—scarce breathing now,—
looking at the little barefoot maid; the placid lake had not a
Tipple on its face, save from the drops that pattered from the
Car-blade over the stern; and Fawn turned not from gazing at
her birds.

“‘ What means this, Gracie? And why have my pretty ones
Sone away up there in the tree?” asked the child. “ Were
YOu so impatient that you could not wait for me at the water
longer? “Have you ceased to love to sport in the calm lake?

ou were never impatient before, however long my coming
might be delayed, for when you tired of sporting in the flood
T never failed to find you, when I came, standing by the shore,
With your long necks arched, your bills beneath your wings,
and you asleep. Come, pretty ones! The skiff is waiting
Pie Why will you not come? Why do you stand there,
has etching your long, white necks away below your feet, and

ring so wildly toward the still waters ?”
ail é old crane, as if in reply, uttered a low guttural sound,
eaching down her head as she did so even lower than it was
paw, raising her crest, and moving with mincing step still
arther from the lake.

awn turned to look, and there stood Jeannot in the boat,

near shore.
An instant she remained there, gazing wildly.
ponutifal Fawn !” said Jeannot. - ‘i
n turned the little maid and s away, and soon she
ae hid from view. Then, too, the viighionel cranes took
and Jeannot was alone.
iene the place where Fawn had disappeared, Jeannot saw
oa = thread of airy blue smoke rising up among the branches,
Sor “i he stood there hesitating, and undecided whether to
in ad er or not, the old man with whose face he was familiar
qu and approached with nimble step toward him, An
P °ssion of astonishment was upon his face, as he halted
"e near the water's edge and looked out at the strange

 
 
  
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
  
 
 
 
  
 
 
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
  
 
  
  
 
 
 
 
  

 

156 KATE WEATHERS; OR,

comer. “Who are you?” he asked, sternly, “and why are
you here?” ;

“ Not for harm am I here, reverend sir. I am one of a band
of unfortunates, and happen here, as it were, by accident.”

“One of a band?” asked the old man, in the same stern
voice and as if doubting. “ Where are the others ?—and how
unfortunate ?”

“ You may know of a sandy ridge, covered with lofty pines,
that is reached by a creeklet from the broad lake a few miles
below this place; my companions in misfortune are there: they
are a man, and a patient, trusting mother, and her four chil-
dren. We were wrecked in the recent severe tempest, and
have wandered here.”

“ A mother and her children ?” said the old man, in a softer
tone. ‘ Have those children a father?”

“ They had, at the coming on of the tempest,—a kind, loving
father.”

“ And he was drowned ?”

“ Hope continues to say not.”

“ Separated from the rest, and not yet found ?”

“ Aye.”

‘Pray God the father may be restored to his family! Ah,
when the kind father dies, it is as when the frosts of autumn
fall upon the flowers! Skies that were all light and beauty
become dreary and dark indeed when the éyes of the affec-
tionate father and loving husband cease to shine. She that
fondly and trustingly leaned upon him is left to reel and stag-
ger on through the chilly gloom, sorrowing as she goes. They,
that had known life as one day of peaceful light, look up in
vain for their beautiful skies. Ah, how chilled their world
becomes when the sun that warmed it has sunk beneath the
horizon! How dark the pathway through it still, untrod!
The widow and her trembling ones step forth and grope their
way along the freezing path beneath the cloud-draped skies.
Poor widowed one! poor fatherless! how lonely is the journey
now! Pray God, sir, the kind father and husband may be
restored !—aye, pray God it may turn out that light is concealed
from the loving, trusting ones by only a passing cloud !”

Jeannot told the old man about the wreck, and about the
mutiny of Pedro and his band, and the part that he and
Frangois had taken in it, and how they had happened to make

ee nN ne Tee ann nE ORT eee ene

  
 
 
  
   
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
  

 

SCATTERED BY THE TEMPEST. 157
He also told him about
cranes in the lake, on
d about having
d how Frangois
planned that he
ng favor-

their way to the island of the pines.
his having witnessed the flight of the
the morning after they had encamped, an
heard Fawn’s song on the night before; an
and himself, upon their return to camp, had “
Should make this expedition in the hope that somethi
able to them might be ns renee

“Tt is a sad case,” said the old man, :
wife and mother that continues to hope and beg shone
clouds of adversity arise and thicken around, hiding her oo :
that was beautiful beneath their shadows ; only — i
Woman can bear up in such a case. Thank God there @
such !” oh

“See! see!” exclaimed Jeannot, “ see the great big : 3
comes cantering toward you! Get into the beh are e po
push back into the deep water. Quick, or he will be up
you!” i

The old man turned his head very deliberately, and loo a
toward the brute in an unconcerned manner, though it byte
along so near to him that he could have touched it wi
hand. ;

But Jeannot was stupefied with horror at seeing eg et
along by the old man, and come and leap nimbly into the ;
He was on the very eve of plunging over the stern into ;
lake when, glancing back, he observed that the bear had seate
himself saucily on the bow-thwart, and was making no show
of advancing farther, at least for the time. ¢
3 “Grill! Grill!” said the old man, in a commanding ry

.you are very unmannerly! come back ! Be. not pang”
sir,” he continued, addressing Jeannot, “ Grill is but one 0
our many pets, Come out, I say, Grill!”

The bear turned sullenly about and leaped back to the shore,
Where he seated himself upon his haunches and resumed his
unamiable leer into the new-comer’s face. Often he would
Wrinkle his nose and roll back his lips, showing the two great
rows of teeth, seeming only.to be waiting for the old mans
command to charge. Under the circumstances, J eannot deemed
it prudent to fall back to deeper water, which he did without
loss of time.

b “Grill! Grill!” said the old man, “you are uncivil: go
ack !?

“put she is a true

14

 
 

 

 

 

7a: KATE WEATHERS; OR,

The brute arose and slunk sullenly away, occasionally turn-
ing back his grizzly face, and grinning horribly.

“ Have you no fear of such pets ?” asked Jeannot, “and do
you apprehend no danger from them ?”

“None whatever,” the old man answered. “The wild ani-
mals around us are our only neighbors, and long years at this
place have rendered us so familiar with their habits and dis-
position, that whenever I come in contact with the most savage
of them it is not only without feelings of fear of them, but
really in a friendly and patronizing spirit. Civilized man
regards the wild beast as his enemy because it is the disposition
of the brute to shrink as far back from the light of civilization
as possible; and, regarding it as his personal enemy, he wages
continual warfare against it, and is ever aiming at its extermi-
nation. But it is a well-known fact that the most ferocious
animal may readily be brought to be man’s most humble ser-
vant. How formidable are the elephant and the lion in a
wild state! What animal is so ferocious as a wild boar or
bull? The horse and the reindeer are brought most unwill-
ingly to face civilization; but take these animals in a domes-
ticated state, and what valuable servants they are. Even the
most venomous serpent’ may be tamed and rendered harmless.
True, all rules have exceptions; but exceptions are sometimes
taken for rules. Most of our fear of wild animals is, I am
disposed to think, but the effect of education. The most
ferocious of all animals is man himself. He is more to be
dreaded than the lion or tiger, because he is fiercer, bolder,
and more aggressive; and, in truth, not only the brute but
man himself fears man more than all other animals. The lion
and tiger will flee from the presence of man, though they have
the power to destroy him in a moment of time,—they flee
because they know that he is their superior. This is not theory
with me, for I have made a practical test of it, and am satisfied
that what I say is very truth. I say I have learned to know
my superiority over the brute, and therefore I have long ago
ceased to fear him.”

“ But,” said Jeannot, “the brute has not reason, and is it
not to be feared on that account ?”

“True,” the old man said, “it has neither reason nor the

power of speech, yet it is wonderful how readily it can be
brought to understand man’s speech and signs and gestures.

 

159

SCATTERED BY THE TEMPEST.

nimal, the first thing

or, and that as such
servant,

When I wish to tame and train a wild an
T do is to convince it that I am its superi
T must be obeyed. I give it to understand that, as oe oe
it must be attentive to my words and gestures, 4

; i i ce of disobedience.
Me; and that punishment is the consequen ppracenie °

When it has well learned these it never forgets, and 18 i
My willing servant. A long time in some instances anne
to accomplish thorough training, yet it may - are ‘sal ;

he lioness from the forest could never be thoroughly d with
er cubs would be more docile than the mother ; sail 7 mali-
Proper care, the generations after them could be sg ber dily
aged as common cattle are. Did you observe vee d the

Grill obeyed me? and how he turned his eyes towar Pees
Stound when I commanded? He fears to — k vale!
except when I approach him kindly. morse an Te
Timon stands looking at us while Grill and his mate th bears
on each side of him. I understand from me ng goers
prick their ears and gaze in this direction that : ey = ae
much to come, but the boy’s command (though gt ‘doe
— we are not able to hear it at this distance) keeps
Where they are.” i

J shihant looked : there stood Timon between two serie. see

a hand resting on the head of each. The trio were gang
toward the boat,—the boy and the bears equally wrappe
Wonder at what they saw. uld

“I think,” said Jeannot, with a shudder, Rag he I

s with

“You think so now,” the old man said, smiling, x but soli-
tary life in a place like this for a few years would bring you to
think oth erwise ; in all probability you would seek their apo
for the pleasure of it. Man must have companionship or he
must be miserable.” d
eannot heard the old man with great pleasure, an _
Surprised that a person so intelligent could content himsel to
Well at such a place; and that, too, in the face of his own
theory that man is * social being. He Genired such Jet

made acquainted with his history, and to learn how it happened

that he lived there . but it was now growing late, and he feared

that if he should remain longer Frangois would think that some

 

 
 
   
 
    
  
  
  
   
 
 
 
  
   
  
   
 
 
  
  
 
  
  
 
 

 

 

160 KATE WEATHERS; OR,

accident had befallen him ; so, after saying to the old man that
he would probably see him again in a short time, he bade
adieu to him and made his way back to the pine island.

CHAPTER XVI.

. SAVED.

PIERRE DE L’AUZANNE was inconsolable when, with the
gig’s crew, he boarded the tempest-tossed ship and learned that
Marie and her children had been compelled to leave it in a
small boat with the ruffian, Pedro, and his desperate followers.

This was all unexpected. It had not once entered his mind
that even such desperadoes were capable of committing so cruel
an act. And now he felt that there was nothing left for him
to live for, and that death—nay, even madness—would be a
relief.

For a time he could do nothing but wring his hands and
moan piteously, and call the names of his wife and children,
bewailing their loss, “Oh, my Marie! have you and all your
dear little ones gone from me indeed forever? Shall my eyes
nevermore rest upon you in this life? Has the cruel ocean
swallowed up all my dear ones? Nay, worse a thousandfold,
have my precious wife and children been exposed to insult and
injury, or has the murderer's hand fallen upon their innocent
heads? Oh, my Marie! Oh, my sweet little flock! shall I
see you no more,—nevermore ?”

“TI should say, cap’n,” said Stam Weathers (by way of
consoling the deeply-afilicted man, for whom he had begun to
feel a lively interest), “that the best thing for one in your
fix to do is to hold your head well up. It ain’t the right sort
of a cap’n that will give up the ship when it comes on to blow
fresh, for it’s the cap’n’s place to stand by the hellum through
thick and thin; and the thicker it is the more he’s needed
there. He can’t save the ship every time, let him do what he
will; but if she’s got to go under anyway, it’s his place to
have his hand on the hellum when she goes, and to go down
steerin’. Not as I means that the cap'n should drownd hisself

cae

  

SCATTERED BY THE TEMPEST. 161
when he finds she’s
look around and do
Maybe there's a spar
be so he may help
uldn't be nothin

if he should lose his ship,—oh, no; for
gone anyway, spite of all, he'd ought to
for them that’s strugglin’ in the water.
or somethin’ afloat in his reach, ves page
Some to git on it; but then s’posin there 8 ; i
but a plank in his reach, little as it may he, ee eo fe =
and hold on too; for what’s the use of sinkin if bet “ where
did ? Maybe he can worry his plank along till he gits 1 aes
others can take a hold, and then maybe him and ee po
saved after all. Now I should say, cap’n, hold pe Toke
little plank and keep your courage up. Here’s the bie & with
at things: That little boat that went off from the ship f
ibe has xe it got to shore safe.

your folks in it got swamped, or else it £0 if she didn’t
she swamped, why there’s the eend on it; but, if she North
then, like as anyway, your folks is somewheres hk tae
Banks this minit, and if so be they got there safe, "he t, and
they’re safe yet. You left this same ship in a little oe ' ene
you got ashore; and, what’s harder to do, you ir re you
Shore in the same little boat back to the ship, an yee a —
Stands yet. Then maybe they're as safe and sound as yO! lettin’
don’t you see? But anyways, cap'n, theres no he wld say
£0 your little plank and sinkin’. Hang on, ' ii some
Stronger’n ever, and for what you knows youll pic Ape
© them that’s keepin’ their heads out 0 the water y ie
maybe that little plank will take you and_them ae . it.
omg but anyways, cap'n, while you've got a ho 0 ?
<eep your courage up and hang on. A *.*

No time was p Te Stam, and Len, and Sol in eae
Second jury-mast abaft the one that was a heey BE x rast
Spite of the rolling and pitching of the ship, that secon —_
Was, in a little time, stanchly rigged and moa _ ald be
for what the consequences of one short hour's delay re first
Were well known to those men, whose lives from the hye:
dawning had been spent amidst tempestuous scenes, iat 3s
Whom the black skies, the screaming winds, and the =a
floods were not strange ; and yet, with all their — =
earnest work, the ship had got within two miles of pte |
when that little second sail was raised to the wind, sae =
she was creeping and creeping in to her certain destruction,
unless the latel y completed work should prove to be a success.

While the three men were laboring at their task, Kate was

14*

|
|

 

 
 

 

 

 

162 KATE WEATHERS; OR,

ever near them, and as busy as the busiest ; now lugging a
coil of rope; now holding in place the sail that was being
bent on ; now using the marline-spike as any man could use it ;
now lashing and splicing with nimble hand; and now hauling
away with the rest to get the spar in place and the sail spread
to the breeze.

At times, while the work was going on, she would be run-
ning here and there, obeying the orders of her husband, or of
Len or Sol (for they were officers now, and she was but a sea-
man before the mast, whose duty it was to obey orders); now
she might be seen gliding into the cabin; now descending
through the hatchway into the deep hold; and now hurrying
forward and disappearing in the forecastle; yet always she
was soon returning with something that she had been sent to
bring, and then again she was ready to obey a new order.

And even after the mast was raised and rigged, and the sail
hoisted and the sheets hauled flat, the little woman rested not.
It seemed that she knew intuitively what needed to be done
next, and her heart was willing and her hands ready to do what
she could of the work.

After the work upon the second jury-mast was completed,
and while the three men were hurrying about the decks, put-
ting the things,.that were in great confusion, in as good order
as they could in the few minutes that they had to devote to the
work, Kate ran aft; for she felt that *now her presence was
most needed there, where she could speak words of encourage-
ment to those who were laboring faintly and wearily at their
post. “Hold on a spell longer,” she said,—*a little spell
Jonger ; then Stam and me and the others yonder will come
and rest you. We'll soon have her runnin’ away from shore.
A little spell! There! they are comin’ now !”

“ May God reward you, noble woman !” said the captain of
the ship. “ May he reward you, and these brave men !”

Stam and his companions came running aft to take the tiller,
at which four feeble men were tottering, and near which four
others had fallen and were asleep. “Cap'n,” said Stam, “ we
ain't got no pilot’s license, but we can tote your ship away
from land for all that. You needn’t be afeerd to give up the
hellum to us, for we means right, and we knows what’s needed
to be did besides.”

“ Bring us water and food from the cabin, good woman,”

Sees

ree

 

SCATTERED BY THE TEMPEST. 163

Said the captain ; “there is plenty there, as you will find, and
yet we are fumishing and starving.”

Kate ran to the place to which she was directed, and soon
came back bringing water and something to eat. The weary
men partook of these, then laid themselves down, and were soon
as soundly asleep as their companions who had fallen there before.

¢ ship steered easier now, and before the coming on of even-
& shades she had got so far away seaward that the coast could

© but dimly seen by those brave ones at the helm.

a Git things ready for to-night, Kate,” said Stam, “ for it’s
Goin’ to be ugly bimeby. We shall soon need a light here in
the binnacle, for the wind mought change, and then we should
Want to see the compass. If there’s any lanterns to be found,
light one and hang it in the for’ard riggin’ if you can, for it
pops go hard with us to git run into to-night, dark as it’s goin’

e.

Kate needed not to be told twice. It was not long before
there was a lantern hanging jn the rigging and a lamp burning
In the binnacle, Then another lantern was put in a convenient
Place to be found if needed during the night. Water and food
Were also placed where they could be found, if it should so be
that the weary ones should arouse and call for them.

. Now go yonder, Kate, and drag that c’il o’ rope this way,”
said Stam. “«“ Make the eend of it fast to this cleat. Mind
you takes a good hitch and makes it fast and solid, for it

ae be needed by some or all of us before mornin’,—no
in’,

in

And 80 one thing after another was done by way of making
Preparation for the coming night, that was already beginning
to gloom and deepen around, and that ere long spread its broad
Surtain of utter blackness over the troubled deep.

Still near the tiller lay those eight weary ones when night
raat on, forgetful now in sleep of the hardships and dangers

rough which they had so recently been passing; and there
at the tiller were Stam and Len and Sol and Pierre,—the
ghastly light from the binnacle at times glimmering upon their

4ces as the ship went rolling and plunging along through im-

Penetrable gloom.

ie “Tm ready to help when you wants me there,” said Kate

a the men at the tiller; “for ther’ ain’t nothin’ else to be
one here as I knows of.” But she had scarcely finished the

 
 

 

164 KATE WEATHERS; OR,

sentence when one of the men arose from the deck to a sitting
posture, and cried out, in a distressed voice, “ Water! water |
water! Oh, give me water! I am burning!”

“ Wait a minit,” said Kate; “just a minit. I'll fetch it.”
And within a minute’s time the famishing man had the pitcher
to his lips. Then food was brought, and he ate.

“Thank God!” said the grateful man. “ But who are you
that has brought these good things? I know not the voice,
and yet you are an angel or a woman; and it’s hard telling
one from’ the other of them, when they come like you have
done now. But which are you? Are we about to make
heaven for harbor, and you’ve come out to pilot us in?”

“ We've boarded the ship,” said Kate, “and is workin’ her
off land.”

The man heard not the words, for he was asleep again.

All through the dreary night those brave four stood firmly
at the helm, and the weary eight lay slumbering on the deck.
All through the dreary night Kate remained at her post of
duty,—now hauling flatter the sheets as the ship was luffed,
now easing them off a little, and now lending a hand at the
tiller to relieve, if ever so little, the constant strain that was
upon those who had it in hand. And when at last that long,
dreary night came to a close, the tempest was wellnigh spent.
Nothing could be seen from the ship’s decks but the great bil-
lowy-sea on every hand. The wreck was saved. ~

The captain and his men aroused from their slumbers and
arose greatly refreshed, and ready to enter upon the lighter
duties before them. Their gratitude to the brave salvors knew
no bounds. “ Brave people,” said the captain of the ship,
“ you have saved our lives, and the ship and her valuable cargo.
All that we have would not pay the debt that we as individ-
uals owe to you; but, besides that, the ship and cargo owe you
a rich salvage, to demand and secure which you have only to
go with her into port, which in all probability will be reached
before another night; for Cape Henry is not far distant, and
in less than an hour the wind will be fair enough to lay our
course without trouble.”

* “No,” said Stam, “it warn’t for salvage that we run the
risk of boardin’ the ship, but to save you and her: now that’s
done and we are satisfied. We’ll not go on in the ship, neither,
but make our way back in the boat we come in; and now, if

SCATTERED BY THE TEMPEST. 165

Nees
you'll Swing us over the side of the ship, we'll be off, for it’s a
good smart jump from here to the North Banks beach.”
ake it be possible !”” said the captain, in unfeigned aston-
cage Me And have you indeed come upon the mission of
oa vs at the risk a thousand times of your own lives, through
nat bt! So noble, so generous, so unselfish, and claiming no
thea howard than the satisfaction of having done good? But
poke again, brave people,—we owe you all,—the ship and her
50, are not enough to pay the debt that is justly due to you.”
Stam has told you right,” said Len Curt; “we didn’t

come for salvage: we’
¢ weve got what we come for ;
Want no more.” 4 chi

re this time Kate was standing somewhat in the background
e heard the words of those grateful men,—their prayers for
God’s blessings to rest upon their generous deliyerers —their
words of praise of the heroic deeds that had been performed A
glad smile was upon her face; her heart swelled with ride at
hearing those praises bestowed upon the brave man vine stood
nearest to her; for well she knew that both he and his rugged
companions deserved the thanks that they were reveling
g.

ght of herself as being one of the

that ae wre se tye ers upon it might be saved ?
2 8, said Stam, “ le’s : the giv’s waitin’
and the wind and sea is fair. It ai phn ware bp
shee een the land to-day, and with less work, maybe, than
ck odie away from it yisterday. Git in, Kate, and take
sain 2 oar, It was you that fotch us here all safe and
ee you can’t take us back there’s none that can, now
4 is gone.
ae - bg dy noble woman,” said the captain of the ship ;
ews - : efore you leave us. _For myself and these, whose
prewed4 uu ne been the chief instrument, under heaven, in
Poh py thank you with truly grateful hearts. May the
Raley . great God be ever above you and yours, to shield
i ‘ag arm, and to guide you through the glooms of life, and
‘eae you to that peaceful and beautiful harbor that tempest
Nits Sigs hp ret where cloud and darkness are not
cesae = generous code, brave woman, deserve a reward
value of what we call wealth. The crown of leaves

on the tr ; A
1 true hero’s brow is nobler than the crown of diamonds

 
 

 

 

166 KATE WEATHERS; OR,

on the monarch’s, for it is the badge of merit. Allow me,
then, to place on your finger this ring, not for its value, but as
a token of our everlasting gratitude. In the name of myself
and these seven, as well as of the owner of the ship and its
cargo, whose agent I am, I place the ring where it is, with the
prayer that the choicest blessings of heaven may rest upon you
and yours forever.”

Kate was astounded. For atime she did nothing but look
silently down at the glittering ornament that had been placed
upon her finger. Though little she understood of what the
captain had said, yet she knew full well that the action was
prompted by feelings of gratitude for the part she had taken
towards saving the ship. “I didn’t count on bein’ paid for
what I done,” she said, in a tone and with an expression of
face that told that she was hesitating whether to permit the
ring to remain.

“ Paid 2” said the captain ; “ the ship and its contents are not
enough to pay you, brave woman |”

Kate glanced up into her husband’s face. There were he
and his rude companions, gazing silently at her; the light of
pleasure was upon their faces, and they seemed to be waiting
to hear what she would reply.

Stam understood well enough the question that was asked
by that quick glance of his wife. ‘“ Let it be where he has
put it, Kate,” said the proud husband: “it'll mind you of the
roughest v’yage you ever undertook. Let it be.”

“Tt shall stay,” she said, tremulously.

Stam and his wife and the three men then took their places
- in the gig, and it was lowered down from the davits into the
sea and went plunging away landward.

Vigorous was the steady stroke of the oarsmen, and swiftly
passed the boat away and away and away, now rising to the
towering summits, now descending into deep valleys, and so
ascending and descending until it had dwindled in the distance
to a mere speck as seen from the ship’s decks; then it passed
from the view of those whose fervent prayers for its safety
still followed it.

It was not long then before the yellow coast appeared over
the little craft's bow, and glittered in the sunlight like a golden
zone. Still on sped the faithful gig, now through the smother-
ing surf, and now high up on North Banks reef.

 

SCATTERED BY THE TEMPEST. 167

CHAPTER XVII.

THE BABE WELCOMES ITS MOTHER.

Tux winds had sunk to sleep, but mountain billows still
Were rolling in and thundering on the beach. Upon a foam-
ing height, two hundred yards from shore, the graceful gig
arose, and doubly quick the strokes were made to keep her
there. Kate with the steering-oar, the rowers’ heads and
arms, and glimpses of oars, and bow, and gunwales, were dimly
seen through clouds of spray, above the boiling crest, until at
last that billow toppled on the shore: then through the roar-
ing avalanche the daring rider plunged, then darted up the
yellow slope. The oarsmen dropped their oars, and, leaping
out, two on a side, they grasped the gunwales with strong hands
to prevent their craft running back with the returning flood.

ia Here we is, back on land ag’in!” said Len Curt; « there
ain't no tellin’ what can be did by standin’ square t
thing! It’s ab like St: 7 satan : ’ bg Bi S
ing t's about ike Stam told you yisterday, cap’n; there’s
no use turnin’ loose and sinkin’ even if you should git swamped,

for it’s only them that } i
1olds on that comes out all rie .
best to hang on !” oe =

“c “ oP Sees. >: F
Brave people,” said } lerre, “ you have taught me a valu-

~ lesson, one that I can never forget. You have overcome
amar pey that appeared to be insurmountable, and have per-
ormed the noble deeds of heroism that you started out to do.
Henceforth I shall not cease to hang on while there remains
even a straw to hang to; and I trust that I too may bravely
and hopefully perform the work that I have in hand’ to do

Owever dark the present, and however drear and tempestuous
the Scenes before me through which I must pass.”

2 “We'll all help you to look for them you've lost,” said Kate.

Maybe you'll find ’em yet.”

: Maybe so,” said Len; “but then, there ain’t no tellin’
about that ; Anyways, we can look, find ‘em or not. There’s
One thing I'll tell you, cap’n, before we starts: you don’t

now the channel along here like we does, and maybe you'd

tt Ete gett, imi

si et lel

 
   
  
    
 
  
 
 
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
  
 
 
 
 
  

 

 

 

 

168 KATE WEATHERS; OR,

better give us your painter and be towed a spell; or, what’s
better’n that, you’d better.git into our boat and go along with
us.”

«This is a kind of bizness, I should say, that had best be
looked into a little before startin’ out. Some- things can be
did quickest by workin’ slow, and it’s my belief this is one of
‘em. You ain’t a goin’ to find smooth water all along, and I
can tell you that now. It’s well enough for you that Ike
Drew ain’t here; but then there’s some left yet on North
Banks that ain’t so mighty much better than Ike Drew. You
see we'll just look over the chart a spell and git the bearin’s
all fresh in mind ; then, when we starts, we'll know better how
to steer.”

While this conversation was going on, the gig’s crew were
crossing the bare sands from the beach toward the path in the
thicket. They had not gone more than half the distance
before they were met by Betsy Curt, and Nancy, and Peggy,
who had descended the hill and come on to meet the returned
voyagers.

“ Who is this you’ve brought?” asked Nancy Weathers,
turning her fierce eyes upon Pierre as she spoke.

“ Maybe if you'll look good you'll see that it’s him that
went off with us to the ship,” said Len.

“ And maybe,” said Nancy, “he’s come back to see how
many fools he can git together to keep wrecks from comin’ on
when they’re about as~good as stranded. Pity Ike Drew was
drownded and not some others.”

“ Pity some ain’t in h , where they ought to be,” said
Len, savagely.

“T guess if everybody was there as ought to be, you'd be
missed about North Banks mighty soon,” said Peggy Strubl in
her manly voice. “It’s like Nancy says: pretty folks you've
got to fetchin’ here! I wish Ike Drew had come back in that
gig instid of comin’ like he did. But maybe somebody else
ll git hurt yet.” se

“Who's hurt ?” asked Stam, nervously. “Is anything gone
wrong with the youngun, mammy ?”

“Don’t ask me about your youngun,” said Nancy. “I’m
the dog you driv away from your house, Stam Weathers !
Go see for yourself what you wants to know. But TI shouldn’t
guess that you, that has so much to do buryin’ dead ones and

 

 

SCATTERED BY THE TEMPEST. 169

gittin’ wrecks off to sea, had enough time to spare to bother
about younguns. Go and see for, yourself, but don’t ask me
about your whelp.”

Stam stood silently looking upon his scowling mother. A
terrible frown was upon his face. The good and evil in his
heart were having a hard struggle for the mastery, with even
chances of triumph ; but Virtue came then and whispered of
the good deed that he had so recently done, and the curse that
quivered on his lips was not uttered.

At another time the result of such a conflict might have
been different, but Stam had been more than ordinarily happy
on that morning; there had been dwelling in his heart a joy
that had never been there before,—the consciousness that he
had acted the part of a true hero from pure, unselfish motives.
In the short time that had elapsed since the landing of the gig
he had mentally adopted a score of good resolutions, and laid
hasty plans for future conduct far different from that of the
past ; but now, in an instant of time, all the good resolutions
and all the plans of reform were about to be discarded as im-
practicable; for here was his mother, the first to meet him
after his dangerous adventure, greeting him with taunts and
bitter abuse,—aye, more, seeming glad for the opportunity of
piercing his heart with poisoned stings, and goading her son to
madness.

The wretched mother seemed to know of the conflict that
was going on in her son’s heart, and the scowl upon her face
took the form of a contemptuous sneer. ‘ No, don’t ask me,”
she repeated, “ but go and see for yourself ; maybe your whelp
ain’t hurt.”

Stam watched the sneer a time: a terrible suspicion came
over his mind: had she taken advantage of his absence to
gratify her dark revenge? Wild with sudden fear, he turned
and fied homeward. But he had not gone far before Betsy
Curt called to him, in a loud voice: “ Wait, Stam, wait! don’t
be a fool! I’ve just come from there, and all’s right.”

“ Tt’s well it is all right,” said Stam, as he came to a sudden
halt, and then turned and came walking deliberately back,
meeting the rest; ‘it’s well all is right. there.”

“Why didn’t you let the fool run hisself to death, Betsy
Curt ?” said Nancy, with a demoniac laugh: “there'd been

one less of the fools that spends their time buryit’ dead
H 15

 
 
 
 
 
  
  
  
 
 
  
 
 

 

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
  
 
  
 
 
  
 
 
 
  
 
  
 
 
 
 
 
 

 

 
 

    

170

ones and helpin’ wessels to sea when they’re just about
beached.’

Stam again stood face to face with his tormentor. The
demon had taken his soul by storm. Passion darkened his face
and glared out at his eyes, and his strong frame trembled like
a leaf. “TI don't want to kill you,” he said, “ but you've sot
in to make me do it! Don’t say no more! Nary word more!”

Then quivered the thin frame of the mother. Well she
knew that those words were said in earnest, for the arm was
raised, the angry eyes were upon her, watching to see if the
quivering lips would speak. She turned and walked away in
silence: yet, though she strode away, her eyes were on him
still, for still the arm was raised, still glared on her the dread-
ful eyes, and still he stood in attitude for quick attack ; the
fiend that held the vantage-ground was waiting but to catch
the sound of one defiant word before the onslaught, and grin-
ning Death stood near the hag, expectant of the prey.

Still slowly on, with sullen step, the unnatural mother went,
still gazing back with glittering eyes upon the rebel son,
Death urging her to halt and speak, fear prompting her to
fly ; and, acted on by both, she neither stood nor fled. Again
the angered son turned homeward.

Though Kate had all the time been standing by his side,
she spoke not until now. “Oh, Stam,” she said, as a happy
smile lighted the face that had been pale and anxious, “ I’m
glad you stayed with me! Don’t take on so no more, Stam;
it skeers me when you looks so much like Ike. Don’t take
on so no more, Stam.”

“No, Kate,” said Stam, his frame still trembling as he
spoke. “It’s the last time. I shan’t git mad at what she
says no more,—never no more.”

“Tt was Jim Beam that got hurt,” said Betsy. “ A gang
that nobody knowed went to his house last night and beat
him to a mammock, and then they burnt up his house. He’s
layin’ in the path now, where they left him.”

“ Burnt his house?” said Len Curt, coolly ; “ that is a pity.”

“Yonder comes Gilsey with the youngun,” said Kate, as
she ran forward to meet the child. Its little arms were reach-
ing towards her long before she got to it, and it laughed for
joy at beholding again its long-absent mother.

Kate had seated herself on the sand, and was holding the

KATE WEATHERS; OR,

 

 
 

 

   
     

     

SCATTERED BY THE TEMPEST. 14

 

child to her bosom, when Stam came up and stood before
them. Then the last trace of anger vanished from his face,
and in place of dark scowls was the light of joy.

“Has the youngun pestered you much, Gilsey?” asked
Kate.

“No,” she answered. “Him and me’s had a good time.”

“Tt’s all gone right,” said Stam. ‘“ Everything’s gone
right. Everything takes a turn that way sometimes.”

“ God never fails to bless those who do right,” said Pierre,
who had overheard what Stam had said.

“ Seems as that’s so,” said Kate, as she arose and went on
with the rest. ‘It does seem that them that does right feels
— that, in the long run, things goes straighter with
sich,

“ How come it, Betsy,” asked Stam, as the party entered the
hut, “that Jim Beam got hurt last night, and his house
burnt ?”

“Well, this is the way Pete tells it,” the woman answered.
“ A gang of drunken devils come ashore in a yawl, yisterday
or last night, and it was did by them. Way in the night a
mighty whoopin’ and yellin’ was heerd by Jim’s folks, and
Jim got it into his head right away that Ike Drew had fixed
to wreck the ship, and had come to the beach bringin’ enough
of the crew to do the worst of the wreckin’ the next day; so
what does Jim do but set-to to callin’ Ike as loud as ever he
could. Ike didn’t answer, but them that had been cirelii’
about through the woods yellin’ and whoopin’ did, and
presently here they come bustin’ into the house and turnin’
everything upside down. Then Jim got his gun and shot at
‘em, and then they sot fire to the house, and beat him like I
told you. He’s layin’ in the path now, where they left him,
for they beat him all to mash; he’s orful mad, too,—cussin’
and dammin’ everything around, and one-half the time not
knowin’ what he’s sayin’ or doin’.”

Pierre’s eyes were fastened upon the woman during the whole
time that she was speaking; his lips quivered, and his whole
frame was convulsed. ‘(Can you tell me,” he asked, in a
husky voice, “ where those men now are, or the direction they
took when they left, if they have gone?

“ Can I tell!” Betsy exclaimed. “No, I can’t tell that,
for I don’t know; but I hope they are at the bottom of the

  

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

 

 
 
 

 

 
 

-

172 KATE WEATHERS; OR,

Sound, with fifteen foot of water rollin’ over’em; and like as
any way that’s where they is, for it was blowin’ a gale when
they stole Jim’s boat from the landin’ and went off in her,
and I should guess they was drunk enough to capsize her in
short order. I don’t know where they’re at ; all I know is, Pete
says they went off with the boat, and she nor them neither
ain’t been seed or heerd of since.”

“ Did you learn how many they were?” Pierre asked.

“ A good, smart gang ; eight or ten, maybe, I should guess.”

“ Did you hear the name of their leader ?”

“ Pete says he was a Portegee, and they called him Pedro.”

“Merciful heaven!” gasped Pierre, and as he spoke his
face became as pale as if every drop of blood had rushed from
it into the agonized heart ; “ Pedro ?: Were there a mother
and her children with them ?”

“ A mother and her children with them?” Betsy repeated,
staring with a look of astonishment into the deadly pale face
of the questioner as she spoke. ‘No, there warn’t none 0’
them !” .

Pierre took two or three tottering steps toward the door,
and then his strength failed him, and he leaned heavily
against the log wall of the hut. “Oh, God!” he exclaimed,
in a faint voice; “my precious Marie! My little darlings!
Oh, my God!” He would have fallen to the floor, had not
Stam rushed forward, and caught him in his strong embrace,
and assisted him to a seat upon the chest.

“ Here, Gilsey,” said Kate, “hold the youngun till I can
bring some water for him !”

Gilsey took the child, and the frightened woman hurried
out of the hut and away to the spring. She soon returned,
bringing a conch full of the clear, cool water, which she held
to the sufferer’s lips. ‘“ Drink some of this,” she said; “it'll
make you feel better.”

‘Maybe he’s lost some o’ his folks!” said Betsy Curt, in
an undertone, to her husband.

“That’s what’s the matter,” Len answered. “ And like as
not, them that beat Jim, and burnt his house, and stole his
boat, was the devils that brung his folks off from the ship.”

“Like as not,” said Betsy. “And I shouldn’t wonder if
I sees into it now; for Pete says the first thing they did,
when they busted into the house, was to upset everything,

 

        
    
 

  

   

SCATTERED BY THE TEMPEST. 173

lookin’, as they said, for a woman and some younguns that
had got away from ’em.”

“Got away from them!” gasped Pierre. “Oh, thank
God !”

CHAPTER XVIII.

A SECRET ESCAPES FROM ITS PRISON.

“ Wuar’s the matter with Pete Beam ?” said Gilsey, rising
nervously from her seat in the doorway as she spoke, and
gazing up the path. “Here he comes, scuddin’ a ten-knot

lick ; like as anyway them that beat Jim has come back and
is after him !”

Stam hurried to the door, and looked out. “ Somethin’s
wrong, sure ’nough !” he said, as he reached up and took his
gun from its rack over the door, and made a hasty inspection
of it, “for Pete’s comin’ like as if somethin’ ugly was reachin’
after him. I guess it wouldn’t be nothin’ amiss to see that
the flint is all right and the primin’ dry, for it wouldn't be no
time for snappin’ and flashin’ if it should turn out to be them.
They can come if they’re a mind to, but I shouldn’t wonder
if some of ’em don’t stay here after the frolic’s over !”

Kate grasped her husband’s arm. “ Don’t shoot!” she said.
“Maybe they won’t try to pester nobody when they sees so
many of us. Don’t shoot, Stam!”

“No, no,” said Pierre, rising from the chest, “don’t shoot !
The life of a human being should never be taken, except in
case of extreme necessity. It is a terrible thing to shed the
blood of a fellow-creature |”

“That may all be so,” said Len Curt, coolly, as he drew
his knife from his belt, and whetted it on the dirt-lining of
the chimney ; “ but then it won’t hurt to be ready in case
they should come. Nothin’ onproper in bein’ ready, you
know, cap’n.”

Pete came up to the door. ‘‘ Go over yonder some of you,
and do for daddy!” he said. ‘“ There’s no use talkin’ about

it, he’s a gone schooner if he don’t git some help, and that
15*

 
 

 

174 KATE WEATHERS; OR,

soon! He's been playin’ off and on as long as he could. But
she’s in the surf now,—bilin’ through it under nothin’ but a
flyin’-jib; and you know. she ain’t a goin’ to steer at that
chance! I tell you if somebody ain’t there to help soon,
she'll beach in spite o’ h ! Come, come, if you’re comin’ !”

Stam reached quietly up, and put his gun into the rack
again. Len returned his knife to its scabbard. But not a
word of answer was returned to the boy’s passionate appeal.

“What does he mean?” asked Pierre, surprised at the
silence. “Is there a wreck coming in ?”

“T guess you mought call it a wreck,” said Len, as he
drew his half-filled pipe from his pocket, and raked it in
the hot ashes; “but she may beach and welcome, for what
I cares. She’s a rotten craft, and the sooner she busts up
the better.”

“T cannot understand you,” said Pierre. ‘A wreck ?”

“ Jim Beam’s about to kick out and go,” said Len, with a
chuckle.

“ Kick out ?—and go? Go where ?”

“Why, kick out o’ rizg—and go to h ,in course! [I
shouldn’t guess that Jim Beam had anywheres else to go after
kickin’ out. Jim Beam ?—he’ll git the Devil foul if the old
feller don’t watch !”

“Surely, my friends,” said Pierre, “ you will not hesitate
to render any assistance in your power to a dying man ?”

“Jim Beam ?—if he never gits any help till I goes, he'll
lay where he is the rest of his life,’ said Len. “ He’s one,
cap’n, that ought to have been dead twenty year ago, by good
rights. No; I hope his time has come.”

“ But he is a human being,” said Pierre, “ and our duty is
to relieve a brother who has fallen, or is in distress, whoever
he may be, or however low and degraded his position.”

“ Jim Beam ?—he ain’t no brother o’ mine !” said Len; “but,
then, if he was, it would be all the same. Jim Beam !”

“ But,” said Pierre, “ if we have not mercy for others, how
can we expect mercy? Think of it; is it not a good rule that
we do to others as we would have them do to us?”

“ That’s good enough,”’ said Len, “ and I'll toe that mark
with Jim, any time; for, if I was in his fix, and he in mine,
I shouldn’t want him comin’ round me ; and, you see, I ain’t
goin’ round him : that’s square enough, ain’t it 2”

 

 

 

 

~

SCATTERED BY THE TEMPEST. 175

“ But God requires that we should be kind and brotherly
toward one another,” said Pierre. ie

“ And does he want me to do anything to’ards helpin’ to
keep breath in sich a devil as Jim Beam, when I knows well
enough, all the time, that the longer he lives the worse it will
be for me and everybody else around? Jim Beam!

“Tt is not for us to judge too harshly,” said Pierre. “ We
did not give the man life, and it is not for us to say how long
he shall live. He that gave his life can take it when he wills ;
and God is judge of his creatures’ acts. Now we all do wrong
in one way or another, and none can rely on his own good
deeds to bring the blessings of a pleasurable life. I take it that
all mankind are journeying on together in the hope of reach-
ing a better land. Parts of the way are rugged and dark, but
we must pass on, or there is no hope. Now, is it a duty, think
you, to assist a weak and weary companion along ? or shall he
be left to perish on the dark plain upon which he has fallen?
If we are in the right path, ought we to try to keep the brother,
who is disposed to wander off, near us? or shall he be per-
mitted to go on, without a kind word of warning, until he falls
from the precipice that is hid from Ads eyes, but which may
be seen by us? Reason alone will teach us our duty in these
respects; and I fear much that he who fails to be kind and
merciful to his companions on the journey of life will fail to
reach the better land, for how can -he expect mercy who has
not been merciful ?” j

“ We'd better go,” said Kate ; “then maybe God will show
us how to find the cap’n’s folks.” And saying this, she
turned and went out of the door, without waiting to see
whether her suggestion had been received favorably or not.

“Say, Kate,” said Stam, “ where is you off to?

“I’m goin’ to see Jim,” she said ; “ maybe he wants water
or somethin’ to eat. . Can’t we fix to fetch him here, Stam,
and lay him on the floor? It’s bad he should have to lay there
out in the elements, in his fix.” : 2

“ Fetch Jim Beam here? Wait, I’ll go along with you.

“ Come, Betsey,” said Len, as Stam and his wife and Pierre
went out of the door, “I guess it won't hurt for us to go
along, too. Kate's got a level head, and maybe it s like she
says about findin’ the cap’n’s folks. Anyways, it won't hurt
to go along with the rest, and look at the devil.

 
 

176 KATE WEATHERS; OR,

Pete led the way along at a quick pace, followed closely by
the late occupants of the hut, including bare-legged, tangled-
haired Gilsey, who brought up the rear, lugging the baby.
Poor Gilsey Roe! how she hoped that they would not bring
Jim Beam there and lay him on the floor ; for, if they should
do so, she doubted not but that he would kill the kind stran-
ger or steal the little baby away. Oh, she hoped. they would
not bring Jim Beam there !

“ How is your father injured ?” asked Pierre of the lad as
they went along.

Pete turned his head and stared for some moments with a
puzzled expression at the question. “ How is what?”

“ How is your father hurt ?”

“ My what ?”

“ Your father !”

“ Ain’t got no sich!” said Pete. “Oh! if it’s daddy you're
talkin’ about, he’s hurt all over, beat all to mash; ain’t gota
whole bone left in his body as I knows on.”

“ Bruised, no doubt, badly,” said Pierre. “Did he receive
any other injury ?”

“ Any other what 2”

“ Did he get hurt in any other way than af

“ Any other way, eh? Warn’t them enough ways? The
house was burnt and all that was in it, the boat stole, and
every bone in his body mashed to splinters! I should think
that was enough ways to git hurt for one time; if there’s
any more to come it ought to be saved for next time, seems
to me!”

“Why didn’t he git out o’ the way?” asked Kate.

“Tt’s easy enough to talk about gittin’ out o’ the way,” said
Pete, “ but it ain’t so easy to do, with sich a gang as that was,
and they all a’hold 0’ you at onest: he did git away, like I
did; but then he took a notion to creep back and shoot, and
then’s when they got him.” :

“Didn’t he kill nobody when he shot ?” asked Sol.

“ Kill ?—when there warn’t nary shot in the gun ! Mammy
never lets shot stay in the gun while she’s up there in the
rack ; if she was to she’d a’been killed twenty times afore
now, when she and daddy gits to fightin’. He knows she’s as
good as he is on her manhood, so the first thing he does when
they gits into a fuss is to reach up for the gun and shoot.

 

 

SCATTERED BY THE TEMPEST. 177

No, there warn’t nary shot in her; but he hadn’t thought
about that.” é ie

“ Ain’t Peggy nussed Jim none since he was beat?” asked
Kate.

“ Nussed the devil! Now, Kate, you know better’n that!”

“Ts your father unconscious ?”’ asked Pierre.

“T don’t know about that,” Pete answered ; “but the blue
devils had got him and was bouncin’ him high when I come
off! Once in awhile he'd manage to roll sorter over, but every
time he done it his legs and arms would wind and twist and
double round him, same as if there warn’t a bone in ’em half-
inch long; the blood would come oozin’ and spurtin’ out 0’ his
mouth and nose and runnin’ over his face and neck, and then
the dirt and ashes, mixin’ up with the blood, got him to lookin’
as ugly as the devil hisself. But yonder he lays; you can see
for yourself.”

Jim was lying upon his back, near the ruins of the hut, his
face toward the approaching party, suffering the most intense
agony, and cursing and yelling with every breath.

No soul had been near him since he had received his injuries
except his son, and he had done nothing but to sit near by and
receive in silence the awful curses of the wretched father.

Horrible, indeed, was the sight. Fresh streams of blood
were still at times trickling from his mouth and nose, and the
sand near his head was deeply dyed with the crimson stream
that had been flowing for hours. There were but shreds and
tatters of clothing upon his breast and arms as far down as
his savage teeth had been able to reach. His blood-begrimed
face was drawn and furrowed by the dreadful pains that he
was suffering, and his eyes were as wild and bright as those
of the wounded tiger, and fiercely they were fixed upon those
who were drawing near. From the instant they came in his
sight nothing was heard but his shocking blasphemy and the
fearful curses that he hurled upon them, at times by their
names, then as a whole company. :

3 ‘fone creature,” said Pierre: ; “how dreadful must be his
agonies |”

”« Hush your cussin’ me, you black devil!” said Len Curt,
as he drew near the frenzied man. “Hush, or I'll take a
stick and beat your brains out!”

Pierre looked at Len in amazement. “Surely, friend,” he
H*

 
 

178 ‘ KATE WEATHERS; OR,

said, “surely you would not resent anything that might be
said by a man in the condition of this one! He is in no
manner responsible for anything that He may say; but, if he
were in his perfect senses, his prostrate and helpless condition
ought to protect him against violence at the hands of any
rational creature !”

“No,” said Stam ; “let him cuss his belly full: he won’t be
here to pester anybody much longer.”

The dying man, before these words were said, seemed not
to have been aware of the presence of Stam, who, with Kate,
was standing near his head; but, recognizing his voice, he
turned upward his face and, rolling back his blazing eyes upon
him, said: “Go off, Stam Weathers: go off! go off !—you
and Kate too,—go off from me! I don’t want nary one of
you nigh me. Haw, haw! You've found it out, and now
you've come to kill me; but I ain’t afeerd of you! Yes, I
killed ‘em; I’m the one; I’m the very one! You devil! I
ain’t forgot you! I’m the one that killed em, Stam Weathers.
Jim Beam done it! and that ain’t all neither. Ain’'t—I—
got—my—eye—on—that—other—one? Ha! I should a
had him last night if them devils had put off comin’ this way
one hour longer! Gilsey wouldn’t never knowed who got
him, dark as it was! Another dark night's comin’, Stam!
How straight you're lookin’ at me, Stam !—straight down into
my eyes! Well, look! look! look! Maybe you can see through
—way down into my heart! But look! See if I winks once
when you're findin’ out what’s in it! Ha, Stam Weathers, it
was me that killed ’em !” P

“ Killed who?” asked Stam, of the writhing man.

“ Killed who?—No, I didn’t kill ’em. Did I say kill ?
Well, it’s the same thing. Killed who? Stam, you mought
a kept on lookin’ till now, and Kate mought a kept on eryin’
till now! You're both fools! I took,’em away from North
Banks, Stam, and you wouldn’t found ‘em till now. The
wind was as fair that night as it could blow,—east-no’theast,—
and didn’t it: blow! and warn’t—it—dark! Christ! warn’t it
dark when I turned the skiff loose, with them in it, to drift
up the river! Then I beat clear back from that river that
night,—hard as it blowed, and dark as it was. Next morning
my boat was at the landing, and you never knowed I went.
The skiff and them that was in it ain’t never been heerd of

SCATTERED BY THE TEMPEST. 179

 

yet! Idon’t know where they is! Did the devils that ™
here last night kill Nancy Weathers? Maybe she knowe
about me goin off that night? The devils come too —<
last night, Stam: the mast and the rudder and the oars an
the sand-bags was in the boat,—nothin’ to do but step in and
let her go. Me and the crew had just got out of the door,—
we had just started,—when the yellin’ was heerd! But it'll
soon—soon be dark nights agin, Stam !”

Stam’s eyes met those of his wife. A dark angel had burst
from its gloomy prison,—the wretched murderer’s heart. The
secret was told ! ;

“Oh, Stam,” moaned Kate, “it was him that killed our
babies !” :

Stam made no reply. For a time he stood, staring vacantly
into his wife’s face. It seemed that reason had flown, or that
Death was fanning his heart with his icy wing: scarcely he
breathed. Then his brow grew darker, and darker, and darker,
and his eyes more and more fierce and terrible; still, he spoke
not,—stirred not,—turned not away his face from hers. All
were still ; even Jim had ceased to rave. :

Still, all remained silent as he turned and walked towards
the thicket, all eyes followed him,—all, even those glittering
ones of the wretched criminal. He disappeared in the thick
cluster, but soon returned, bringing a green bough that he had
cut from one of the stunted oaks, and resumed his position at
the prostrate man’s head. There he stood and trimmed the
bough of its twigs, then cut from it a club of the desired
length. During this whole time his acts were calm and de-
liberate: not a nerve in his whole body twittered, nor was that
dreadful calm disturbed even when with both hands he raised
the heavy club above his head and aimed the deadly blow.
The blow fell not. Slowly his hands descended: one end of
the club was brought to the ground, his right hand rested on
the other. Calmly he stood and looked upon the horribly
convulsed and battered body stretched out before him, and
waited for the fit to pass off, and for the white eyes to roll
back to their places and gaa — with their demon fires.
Not a word had yet been spoken !

Kate still was Gahdine oa her husband's side. Well knew
she what his silent movements meant. Not even for an instant
were her pleading eyes turned from the dark face. She hoped

ecepepeneineinta tiie

 
 

180 KATE WEATHERS; OR,

that he might see her yet, and answer favorably the silent
plea,—the plea that even she dared not speak, for fear the
dreadful stroke would fall and be her only answer. Pete sat
there, near his father, in the sand. Terror was on his face,
but why should he plead? Gilsey had learned the meaning
of the awful pantomime. She had never seen the murderer's
stroke descend,—she could not! ‘Tremblingly she turned
away homeward. Pierre made one soft step forward, and
quietly he took the sleeping infant from the mother’s yielding
arms and held it so the father might see it, if for an instant
he should take his steady gaze from the agonized face near his
feet. Len and his wife stood somewhat in the rear ; now they
were leaning forward, and looking anxiously into the dismal
face. Her pale face still upturned, gradually, and with an
almost imperceptible movement, the frightened wife sank lower,
and lower, and lower, until she rested on her knees; then
reaching out her hands, she placed them softly on that hand
that rested on the club. The husband trembled at the touch,
and looked upon his kneeling wife, and started slightly, as if
awaking suddenly from a dream. What deep distress was in
that pale, cold face before him, and how the quivering eyes
were pleading !

“Yes, Kate,” he said, as if but one thought could now find
place, “he killed ’em !”

Kate spoke one word,—a trembling whisper,—‘“ Stam !”

“ He killed ’em, Kate! He killed our pretty babies!”

“ Stam, it was long ago!”

“ Yes, yes, he killed em, Kate!”

Softly again Pierre stepped forward; quietly he placed the
little sleeper on its father’s arm, that arm that had been resting
on his breast; it lay upon his bosom, its little peaceful face
hiding the one beneath. The father’s eyes turned not upon
it, and yet he pressed it gently to his bosom, though seemingly
unconscious of its presence. : ;

“Stam!” Kate said, “oh, Stam, don’t kill him! God
knowed it all the time; and He ain’t killed him. He knows
what’s best, better than what we does. Don’t kill him!”

The babe awoke, and, as it looked up into its father’s face,
it laughed merrily.

“ Qh, listen, Stam,” said Kate; “ he’s talkin’, too !”

Stam pressed the infant closer to his heart. “Tt ain’t for

 

SCATTERED BY THE TEMPEST. 181

me to do it, Kate,” he said. “ God does know best ; seems as
if it was Him that saved ¢his one last night when we was both
gone from it. Here, fling this stick away ; I’m done with it.
He does know best.” : :
Jim’s convulsions had passed off, and his eyes turned glaring
brightly up again. “ Yes,” he said, with an awful oath, “it
was me that done it, Stam. Ha! what a chance I've lost by
them devils comin’ here last night! How dark it was,—how
dark, dark—dark !” ihe ae
A deep sigh followed the last word. Again his eyes rolle
and seemed almost bursting from their sockets; again the

battered limbs trembled to their very extremities. =

Gradually the muscles of the dying man lost their rigidity ;
gradually the spasmed face grew smoother and calmer; a
tremor passed through his frame; again he sighed, and then
lay motionless. The spirit had flown.

CHAPTER XIX.

LOST IN THE WILDERNESS.

“ Anp didn’t you jump out of the boat, Jeannot, when the
bear jumped in?” asked Paul, when the newly-arrived explorer
had got to that part of his narrative where Bruin came can-
tering across the lawn and leaped into the boat with him.

“ Certainly not,” said Jeannot ; “ that is, Paul, I didn’t quite
jump out; but I don’t know what I might have done if the
old man had waited half a minute longer before ordering his

t away.”
wel think I should have pushed the boat more than a few

feet out into the lake, if I had been in your place, and seen
the savage brute sitting on his haunches there on the green
looking at me, and every now and then showing his two great
rows of grinning teeth—ugh !” per
“ Didn't you see Fawn at all, after she ran away so fast ¢
asked Lucie. “ I suppose she wore her dress of speckled fawn-
skins still? Could you tell the color of her eyes and hair,

Jeannot ?”
16

 
   
  
 
 

 

182 KATE WEATHERS; OR,

“Yes,” said Jeannot, in answer to only the last question.
“T had an opportunity of seeing them well this time: her eyes
are of the softest hazel, fringed with long lashes, and her hair
is as dark as the wing of a raven.”

“ Didn’t Timon look aé all frightened as he stood there on
the slope with a bear on each side of him and his hands
resting on their heads?” asked Paul.

“Timon was at some distance from me, Master Paul, and I
cannot say precisely how he did look; but I think if he were
frightened at all, it was at sight of me, for both he and his
bears stood and gazed as long as I remained there to be seen:
they scarcely took their eyes from me a moment, nor did they
change their position during the time, except that the bears
would sometimes squat on their haunches and prick up their
ears even higher than before. They all seemed to be in a great
wonderment at what they saw, and curious to know what I
and my boat were doing there on the lake.”

“T have thought that bears were worse than they really
are,” said Paul, after a long breath: “I am sure I shall not
have so great dread of them hereafter. When the skin that
you have tacked to your shelter gets dry enough, Francois, I
will be glad if you will bring it into the tent and let me sleep
under it, for I have no doubt it will prove to be a very com-
fortable blanket after all.”

“Did the old man tell you nothing of his history?” asked
Francois.

“T asked him nothing about it,” said Jeannot, “as great as
was my desire to know, for I well knew that if I should be-
gin the inquiry I would have to hear the whole story; so I
concluded that it would be better for me to return to camp
and inform you of my discoveries, and let the story wait un-
til we could all hear it at once, and I informed the old man
that we would all see him very soon.”

“Tt is a most remarkable case,” said Marie; “and I must
confess I have great curiosity to know more of it.”

“Let us all go and see them to-morrow, mamma,” said
Lucie; “we could start from here early enough to get back
before night. Oh, I do wish to see Fawn so much !” .

“Yes,” said Paul, looking up into the trees, and apparently
absorbed in deep thought upon the subject; “let us start soon
to-morrow morning. There will not be the least danger about

      
     
  
   
 
   
   
   
   
   
   
   
   
    
 
   
   
   
   
   
   
   
   
   
   
   
    
 
   
   
 
    
 
 

  
 

&

 
    
 
   
   
       
  
   
   

SCATTERED BY THE TEMPEST. 183

it, mamma; for you know as soon as our boat, shoots ont fe
the creek into the little lake, we can take in oars an =
loudly until some one shall hear us and come down * =
water's edge to learn who we are: then, as soon as oe : .
man or any one else shall make their appearance, we Wilt te
them that we have come to pay them a visit, and erro
would be glad if they would tie up the bears securely be
we land; for you know, mamma, there are so many as tha’
we might frighten poor Timon’s pets back into the wi erness,
and so he would lose them. We had better start very early.

“T am not so sure,” said Jeannot, “ whether the visitors
would not be as apt to retreat back into the wilderness as the
bears. Suppose, Master Paul, that while we should be calling,
as you suggest, the bears, instead of persons, should come
down to the water's edge to inquire what was wanted? Now
think ; suppose, after the first good, hearty call, we should see
coming cantering across the green, toward us, two great black
bears, who, instead of halting at the water's edge, should
plunge into the lake and swim rapidly out to our boat. How
would you feel then, Master Paul?” a

“T should think,” said Paul, “that it would be a very silly
caper in the bears to do such a thing; for surely they could
not climb out of the water into the boat, could they, Jean-
not?”

‘“T cannot say about that,” Jeannot answered ; “don’t you
recollect what Francois told us about the nimbleness of the
bear, clumsy as he appears to be? In such a’ case we would
have to take our chances, of course.”

“T am not afraid of bears now, as I was before I heard of
Timon’s placing his hands on the heads of his tame —_
said Paul, thoughtfully.“ Still, as I am not bi gergatice
Timon’s bears, nor they with me, I don’t think it von -
altogether prudent for us to do as I suggested ; for I —

be sorry all the days of my life if one of them ar ge
happen to swim out and clamber up into the boat and get
t we : .
oe aa one present laughed heartily at the boy's gabe
manner of treating the subject, and at his wise forethoug

on the baby’s account.
“ Le’s al go now,” said Murat. “Jeannot knows how to

”
keep the bears away from us.

  

 
  
 
  
  
   
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
    
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
    
 
  

184 KATE WEATHERS; OR,

“Little Bobkins,” said Paul, “you must be patient, and
wait for others to act; little fellows like you are don’t know
what is best. No doubt we will all go in good time.”

“ Don’t let Grill get me, buddy, when we go. You'll havea
big stick along and keep him away, won’t you?” :

“ Don’t be afraid of Grill, or the other bear either, the least
bit,”’ said Paul, as he put his arms around his little brother’s
neck and kissed him affectionately. ‘ Nothing in the world
shall hurt: you, for I will be on the lookout all the time. It
will be about this way when we land on the island: the old
man and Timon will be between the bears and us; next to
these will come Frangois and Jeannot; then will come me,
holding your hand and carrying a big stick; behind all the
rest will be mamma, with Adele and Lucie. Fawn will be
walking between the bears, holding them by the ears. Don’t
you see how safe we shall be? But besides that, I shall be
all the time peeping around toward the bears until we get into
tne house. You mustn’t cry, then, nor be afraid in the least,
even if the bears should be loose when we get there; for they
shall not hurt you, dear little Bobkins.”

Murat showed plainly that he was entirely satisfied with the

arrangement ; but, in spite of himself, the valiant brother
could not help shuddering at times while he was speaking.
_ “You might have told your little brother too,” said Fran-
gois, “that the morning is too far spent to think of starting
now, and besides that, we shall have to prepare before we
leave here ; provisions would have to be cooked to be carried
with us, for it is highly probable that it would be inconvenient
for the old man to furnish more than enough for himself
and his two children and the two bears. But, be that as it
may, it is well to have forethought, and to prepare for emer-
gencies. Again, we should have to do something for the pro-
tection of the camp in our absence, by setting traps and
snares, for otherwise we could expect nothing better than that
wild animals would come and carry off and destroy our precious
things. I should say we had better not think of going until
day after to-morrow. But hark! were not those sounds the
notes of a bugle in the distance? Hark, again !”’

“They are, without doubt, bugle-notes,” said Jeannot, in
great amazement. ‘They come from the direction of the
little lake: the old man, it may be, is sounding for the amuse-

 

 

SCATTERED BY THE TEMPEST. 185

ment of his children ; but could the notes of a bugle be heard
so far through the wilderness ?” ;

“Tt may be in the direction of the lake, and yet this side
of it,” said Frangois. “The old man may be out on the
hunt, or, possibly, he is calling his children to him.”

“ Or it may be,” said Lucie, “that they are all standing on
the lake-shore, listening to the sweet echoes of bugle-notes.
Listen again !’’

“TI think they are approaching towards us,” said Frangois,
“for the sounds are becoming more and more distinct.”

“Oh,” said Lucie, “suppose the old man, and Fawn, and
Timon are on their way through the wilderness to see us !”

“Tt is not probable,” said Frangois, “ that they would come
so far through the thick woods. But surely some one is
approaching, for hear the sounds again.”

“Tt is Fawn! it is Fawn!” said Lucie, as she bounded
away in the direction from whence the sounds came.

And so excited was the child, that she had got into the
thick forest some distance from the camp before she began to
think seriously of what she was doing, and it was only when
she heard again the bugle-notes (now near to her) that she was
brought to consider. Then she halted abruptly and looked
around her: there was nothing to be seen in any direction but
the wild woods, and she became greatly alarmed, for she knew
not what course to take to reach the camp ; and oh, suppose
it should be Pedro and his band, and not the old man and
Fawn and Timon!

For a time she wandered along in great distress, moaning
sadly as she went, and becoming more and more frightened at
each step she took; then she seated herself on the root of a
tree, and burying her face in her hands, she hung her head
and moaned and wept as if her heart would break.

Lucie had been sitting there on the root grieving but a
short time when she was startled at hearing the bugle-notes
again, now so near that they rang and reverberated through
the wilderness with a strange and melodious sweetness. Quickly
she raised her head and dropped her hands from her face. In-
stantly then she sprang to her feet, gazing in amazement, as
she did so, through the tears that had welled to her eyes. A
beautiful little maiden stood before her, looking with wonder-

ing, smiling face upon the sad mourner. Neither, for a time,
16*

 

 

 

 

 
   
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
  
  
 
 
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
  
 

186 KATE WEATHERS; OR,

spoke, but each stood mutely gazing at the other,—Lucie,
with hands still upraised before her, as when she started
from her seat; Fawn holding her right hand before the mis-
tletoe wreath on her forehead, shielding from her eyes the
sun-ray that came glinting through the overhanging boughs.
In her left hand the little stranger held a bow and three or
four arrows. So noiseless had been her approach that Lucie
knew naught of her presence until the bugle-notes came and
scared away her sighs.

“Oh, pretty one!” said Fawn (for she it was), “what are
you? Thave been standing here watching as you wept, lis-
tening to the sad sob and sigh. What has caused you sor-
row ? and why do you moan so piteously? Will you not cease
to grieve? Will you not smile with me, pretty fay? Will
you not love Fawn, who has never before seen aught so
beautiful ?”

“Qh, Fawn! dear, beautiful Fawn !” said Lucie, advancing
and throwing her arms around the little maiden’s neck, and
kissing her nut-brown cheeks again and again. “Oh, is it
indeed my beautiful, beautiful Fawn? My Fawn who sang
so sweetly to Echo?”

“Are you the spirit?” asked Fawn, innocently. “ Basil
thinks you have not form. Has sweet Echo indeed come to
rest in my bosom? Dear sister !”

The old man and Timon had come quietly up, unperceived
by either Lucie or Fawn, and were now standing at a little
distance from them, half concealed by the trees,—a happy smile
upon the face of one, the other crouching, half frightened ;
peeping coyly ; watching with wondering eyes.

The old man had a quiver of arrows at his side, and in his
hand a long, tapering bugle, that he had shaped out of the soft
juniper-wood. The boy was carrying by its hind legs a dead
hare, whose great wild eyes were still wide open, and whose
long, pointed ears were set back as stiffly as when life had its
dwelling in the body.

“See, see, Basil,” said Fawn; “I have found Echo!”

“ Precious children !” said old Basil.

At the sound of that voice, Lucie suddenly raised her head
from Fawn’s neck, where it had been resting, and stared in
mute affright.

“ Have no fear, dear sister,” said Fawn; “it is Basil. He

  

 

”

SCATTERED BY THE TEMPEST. 187

is so good and kind that you will love him as I and Timon $6
There, there, pretty one; let not your heart throb so. Basi
is very, very good; and he will love you as I do.”

“Ts it Echo ?” asked Timon, in a tremulous whisper, as he
looked up into the old man’s face.

“No, child; this is one of the many thousands who dwell
in the world around us, of whom I have so often told you.”

“T have never seen one before,” he said, in the same whis-
pered voice. “Is it a spirit?”

“No; she is a being like you and Fawn.” .

“ What a beautiful place the world around us must be,” he
said, “if the many thousands are like she is! Shall we see
more of them ?”

“ Aye, Timon. I hear others now approaching us.”

“ Others?” asked Fawn.

“ Aye.”

“ Dear, dear Basil! And was it to see this pretty one that
you have brought us so far away from home to-day ?”

* “ Yes, child. To see this one and others like her.”

“Others like her? Oh, Basil, let us remain with them !”

“ And leave the pretty cranes forever, Fawn ?”

“Yes, Basil; leave them forever, to be with such as this.

They will not want when left alone, for God will feed them.”

“ Still,” said old Basil, “others are drawing near. Be not
afraid, my children, when you shall see them; they will not harm
you. See, oneapproaches! It is the same we saw on yesterday.
There comes another. And there is a boy, like yourself, Timon.”

“ What are they ?” asked Fawn. “TI fear them, Basil !”

“Oh, fear them not, dear Fawn!” said Lucie. “ They are
Frangois and Jeannot and Paul. They will dearly love you,
my beautiful Fawn !” 4 ;

“Ts that Timon, Jeannot ?” asked Paul, in a whisper. :

“Yes; it is the boy whose hands were resting on the bears
heads.” ; :

“ We greet you kindly, friends,” said old Basil. 4

“ He is not so very much bigger than I am,’ said Paul, as
he advanced toward the boy. “Timon,” he continued, “I
am Paul. Jeannot has told me of you, and Grill and the other
bear. You didn’t bring your bears along with you, did you?

“No,” the shy boy modestly answered, as he moyed farther
behind old Basil.

 

 

 
,
:
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188 KATE WEATHERS; op,

“T am very glad you didn’t brin
lowing the boy up, and taking a stand much nearer to him
than before, “ very glad; for Frangois has bait

great number of log-traps ; and it would be a pity if Grill and

the other one should get caught in them. Iam not afraid of
bears as I used to be, Timon ; but when we go i
will be on the day after to

yours up securely, for there are so many of us that they might

take fright and run away into the wilderness and be lost.”
Timon, who continued

reply, but only glanced shyly from one to another of the
strange people.

“ Fawn,” said Paul, turning abruptly toward the half
frightened girl, “ I think you are very beautiful,—indeed, I
0; you sing sweetly, too.
night. Before that, we had no idea that the name of the
grand lake was Picture River. We will all be very happy,
Fawn, if you and Timon and the old man will remain with us
at the camp. We havea nice tent that Francois and Jeannot

made. Will you not stay? I will teach you to catch pickerel,
Timon.”

Fawn replied not, for she w.
Then Paul, who was

Basil, as the last resort : “T suppose,” he said, “that you
have lived upon your island of beeches a very long time ?”
“Yes, my little master,” said the old man, “ many years.”

“And, no doubt, are well acquainted with all the creeks
and lakes in this region?”

“« Aye, well acquainted.”

“ And probably have given pretty names to them al] ?”
“There is not a notable s

pot for miles around that we have
not named,” said old Basil.  «

- “This place upon which you —
have your camp is Pine Island.” 4

“But this is not an island,” said Paul; “an island has
water all around it, and this has not.”

“Very true,” said the old man, smiling;

islands, because they are highlands surrounded
There are many such places near, which we

h upon them, Pine
The island upon
will

g them,” said Paul, fol-

“but we call such

 

ed hereabout a —

very close to old Basil, made no

We heard your song the other —

SCATTERED BY THE TEMPEST. 189

observe, when you see all these places, that the growth Be ex
them is in strange contrast with that upon the yes —
lowlands. Here, as you know, the land is seprb oh, = y
pines ; the growth upon our island is beech ; at _ er amare :
it is poplar, hickory, oak, ete. ; while the far-reac ing wil a
hess in every direction is covered with gum, cypress, bear 2 2
bay, laurel, ete. But this is a strange region in other respects,
and the wild scenes here and there are beautiful.

“What names have you given to the creeks and lakes?”
asked Paul. :

“ The little creeklet that runs on by your camp to Picture
River is called by us ‘ the Arcade,’ from the dense arch formed
by the green juniper boughs above it. But to that part of the
creeklet that extends on, above your camp and Pine Island,
we have given another name.’’ ~ ,

“T did not know that the creeklet extended more than a

few rods above our camp,” said Paul, in some surprise.

“Then you have been much mistaken,” said old Basil.
“Half a mile above this place, the creeklet widens out into
a lake almost as broad as Picture River; and this lake is deep
enough to float great ships. We call it J uniper Lake.”

“Like Master Paul, 1 am much surprised to hear of the
existence of such a lake above us,” said Francois, “The
creeklet dwindles to such a puny rill above the camp that, as
Master Paul says, we had no idea of its reaching more than a
few rods farther.” : ar ae

“T suppose it is a very pretty place in there ? said Paul.

“ As wild and beautiful as my eyes ever beheld,” said old
Basil. “I cannot conceive’ of a more lovely place than
iper River.” :

a Tiake much to visit it,” said Paul. « What is the
name of the lake above Picture River, in which is Becch
Island ?” :

“ We call it Wild Lake,” old Basil answered ; “and there is
another still above that, which we call ‘The Solitude.’ ; Ever-
lasting calm reigns there, for the lake is so diminutive and
the growth of moss-covered cypresses around it so dense that
scarcely the winds of the tempest can reach it.

See, my little master, that, hermits as we are, we
what of a romantic turn.”

“Tt is all very pretty,” said Paul; “and I have no doubt

And so you
have some-

 

 

 
 

“ Yes,” said the old man, “our life has been quiet and

to hear from Lucie.

you.”

“ This is Basil,” said Jeannot, introducing the old man.

“ We offer you all a kind welcome,” said Marie, « have
heard of you and your sweet children before, sir. May I ask
whether you really have your residence in this lonely wilder-
ness? Surely it cannot be your abiding-place ?”

“We dwell here,” said old Basil." “ With the exception of
these two children, I had not seen, before you came, a single
human face during twenty-nine years past,”

“ Twenty-nine years!” Paul exclaimed, « How came Fawn
and Timon to be with you ?” ‘ ;

“Dear little boy!” said old Basil, “ you have asked a ques-
tion that neither Fawn nor Timon have ever thought to ask. :
I will answer it, but not now, for the answer will be a long

”

AT itis wrong, mamma,” said Paul, “TI will ask no more; —
but I desire so much to know all about the old man and Timon
and Fawn.” :

“The questions,” said old Basil, smiling, “are very natural —

Ones to be asked in such a case; nor would it be surprising, —
lady, if those who are not children should desire ‘to be informed

 

= My dear children,” said Marie, “I am truly glad to see 7

191

SCATTERED BY THE TEMPEST.

‘ it he d that
of the remarkable events of my life, and how it happene

: ”
Fawn and Timon came to be with me.

i glad to hear it!” said Lucie. ee
“ ‘chiohe tobe ” said Paul, “that you and I had bette
? ?

5 is being told.”
sit close together on this settee when the story a ¢ Basil ;
“You will not hear it to-day, my little man, pee see
“for the sun is rence low in noo geet Ries per
dwelling-place is several miles away. p<
tints before the evening shades shall come to gloam too deeply
in the forest.” ‘ : gigs
Es But both Paul and Lucie protested — oes ~~ mis
i i i eeme'
Ing; and, as neither Fawn nor Timon s a
at Pine Island that night, old Basil consented Se ee -
“ We shall have many things to talk about to-nig fea
said Paul. “ We can lie awake, and I can te apt -
our shipwreck, and about how Jeannot and ce: peo
the Arcade. Lucie will have plenty to tell ng ir Bere
making wreaths of leaves; and I have no dou G

the old man about his log-traps.”—__
Beh nA bor "Timon were still very shy, yet 2 es
plain to see that they felt great interest in all that they hear

from the strange people, and in all they saw around them.

CHAPTER XX.

PRECIOUS WAIFS.

Frangors and Jeannot (who, like all the rest of those at

*))
ii i d Basil’s stor
the camp, were exceedingly anxious to hear ol 'y)

arose early on the next morning, and busied panty > a
ranging some rude seats near the bank of the creekle i
boat-landing, for the gn rn his audience to sit upo
i uld be telling the tale.
Fae got cies for them was a very pretty sia pet:
immediately beneath a cluster of three giant Sb sire ban !
long mossy arms reached, on one side, over the plat o Cie
sward in the direction of the tent, and on the other oe ql e
water, and cast deep shadows over sward and water, and over

 
 
 

:
|
|
|
|

ai NN se
ee anata :

Story.

meditation ;

3 and when she

ashed from

  
  

   

SCATTERED BY THE TEMPEST.

193
together so calmly that I could but listen in admiration of
their bravery.

“< Place the child in my arms at the first opportunity,’ he
said, ‘and then grasp my

waist quickly with both your arms,
Now!’

“Immediately the child was passed to him, and her arms

were tightly clasped around his waist. We four alone re-
mained.
“<T know there is no ho

pe for us, dear husband,’ the lady
said ; ‘but I thank God tha

t we are permitted to die together,
as we must all die.’
“< Yes,’ he said, ‘we must all die: there is no earth] hope
of our reaching the shore alive; but sorrow will be of but a
moment’s duration.’

“<T fear not death,’ she said; ‘b

ut oh, that it were God’s
will to save our precious little child !’

“<Give me your child,’ I said to the man, ‘and make an
effort to save yourself and wife :

it may be that you will reach
the shore alive; and God knows I will do the best I can for
your child.’

The affectionate parents
ed their child, and in an instant I held it
with my left arm. ‘Adieu!’ the mother said. ‘God be
merciful !’ said the father,

4 y ring with one hand,
and with the other lifting the child over my head and above
the torrent that came rushing from stern to stem. thought
T should have to go with the i

1; again the heads arose, higher than be
Man and his wife ;

his left arm held her
I 17

fore,—it was the
firmly still,—aye,

  
 

 

 

 

 

 

194 KATE WEATHERS; OR,

around his neck. They sank: I never again beheld them.
“Another of those great billows came and lifted high the
stern ; again the ship shot forward at a fearful

I arose struggling to
the surface and held the child above my head, with one hand,

as well as I could. Had I been alone, I should have des.
paired and sunk; but the little innocent that had been com-
mitted to my charge was dearer now to me than life, and
madly I fought against the angry seas, wildly I struggled
through them; and I conquered, for I reached the beach, still
clinging to my little charge. For a time I thought she was
dead; but no, she breathed! Life had not departed. She
raised her head and opened her eyes. Oh, how great was my
joy as I pressed that little dripping head to my bosom !

“ After lying upon the sand for a few hours, I recoyered
my strength sufficiently to arise with the child and walk away
down the beach, looking for the bodies of the man and his
wife ; but they were not found. And day after day, week
after week, and even for more than a month, I patrolled the
beach in the fruitless search,

“TI had not been on the island long before I discovered that
I was an eyesore to the rude people who lived near by. The
refused food and shelter for even my little orphan. ly
I pleaded, not for myself, but for the child: but they would
only scowl upon me, and answer my pleadings with horrid
oaths and threats of violence. ° For the sake of my starving
charge, I humbled myself to the very dust; became a cring-
ing coward; resented not even the grossest insult; but all
for no good: the hard hearts were insensible to the touch of
pity.

“ Our case was a sad one indeed. Starvation stared us in
the face. For weeks we subsisted on the clams and scallops
that I gathered up near the shores of the inlet, But, to my
great joy, the child seemed to be very fond of these, and never
failed to eat them with a good relish. My daily programme
was to go forth early in the morning and get a supply of these
clams and scallops, take them to the old hulk that I had
selected as a residence, and there break and eat, and feed them

195

SCATTERED BY THE TEMPEST. h
d down the
to the child; then start off on the orgy
beach, and at night return to the hu f a ship that it seemed
“Qur residence was the aft part o nidshi 3. ‘The wreck
had been snapped square in two about we mT up around it,
had been there so long that the sands 2 pea e 5 sand floor
and drifts had eddied to the inside until a which was about
several feet deep had formed. My ap ere proken-off end
thirty feet long, received all its light pec re else in it), and
(for not even the smallest crack was anyW 5 could get; for,
for this reason I slept as near the stern as observation from
being darkest there, we would better pe ry
prying ones who were sometimes seen sku ling savages,—my
“So greatly I became to dread the shld an instant ; so [
neighbors,—that I feared to leave my ¢ i to my person, and
found some cords, and lashed it securely 2 va I even slept
carried it about with me wherever I ae yd it might be
with it in my arms and lashed to me, at wee that my place
taken while Islept. One consoling thove te part of the whole
of abode was at the barest and most deso “thicket and that a
Coast, several miles from the huts 1m er I knew that they
broad inlet was between them and me; for less it should be
would have no occasion to come near gota or for the sole
for the purpose of picking up wrecked things, or f
purpose of watching me and putting valli « the beach I had
“ During the first days of my patro a B from the ship:
picked up a few things that floated ashor

among these was ti ome articles of my
5 2onta ned som
a trunk that contalL

in it a little box,
‘ : , er had in it a lit A
child and its mother’s clothing ; it also and a smal] sum in

ne ers and trinkets, ing that I
cult coin eae found in pret bersie” would
thought might be serviceable to the - b r it in the sand
take it to the hulk as soon as possible, and bury

: ch valuable,
near the stern, But those things which, oo a natives
were of no immediate use to me, I always ora the vain hope
that might first happen to come in my bc he so benefit my
that by so doing I might gain their cd ‘for the dead bodies.
child, or buy their assistance in the seare a promise was per-
They would sometimes promise, but never a p
formed.
 

 

 

 

 

 

196 KATE WEATHERS; OR,

herself’ in my way, only, I am sure, that she might have an
opportunity to curse and scowl at me and my little child. She
watched narrowly all my motions, and would dog my steps for
hours at a time, either following directly after me, or skulking
near enough to see all that I was doing. Knowing what the
consequence of a difficulty with such a person under such
circumstances would be, I bore all patiently (even submitting
without a word of reply to her bitter taunts and curses), and
never spoke to her except in a kind, respectful manner ; nay, I
tried in every manner to win her favor, not only by kind words,
but by giving her the most valuable of the things that I found :
but all that I did made no more impression upon her heart
than if it had been stone.

“On that day that the trunk was found I went so far down
the shore that it was dusky evening before I got back. I was
within a few hundred yards of my hulk, when, by the merest

ebbing tide directly in my path on the hard beach. Weary
as I was, and heavy as was the trunk from having been in the
water so long a time, I managed to raise it on my shoulder
and get to the hulk with it. When I opened it and discoy-
ered the child's clothing, I was much pleased, for the little
thing was in sad need of a change. Some of its clothing I
took out, also the little box containing the coin; then I buried
both trunk and box near together at the stern. The child
was then fed with scallops, and in a few minutes it was asleep.

“T, too, was almost asleep, when, looking toward the open
end of my hulk, I saw the figure of a woman enter and creep
stealthily toward me. One advantage I had over her was that
she could not see me, while I could see her every movement,—
her cautious stepping, her feeling her way along by the side
of the hulk, and her pausing at times and stooping her head
toward me and listening, and then again advancing softly.
was greatly alarmed, for I saw that she carried a long knife
in her hand, and well I knew that her intent could only be
evil.

“ My first impulse was to wait until she came very near,
and then, without asking a question, strike her with the club
that I always kept near me at night ; but upon second thought
I abandoned that design, for I questioned that even in such a
case the taking of human life would be justifiable,

not.

said, ‘and T’ve brought you that knife to fight with.
your eyes open |’

word.

sires to kill me? and who would hurt t
never done wrong ?”

197
but

i
SCATTERED BY THE TEMPES

1
“Stand! I said. Though startled, she made no reply,

stood as she had been ordered to do. Still she replied

“¢ What are you here for Tre asked.

ie onan rn and
“<¢ Put that knife down on the sand,’ I said ; ‘then tu

Ot ta ne ded, and I went and took the

“She did as she was comman

had been
knife and followed her out. It was the woman who
dogging my steps so long.

ngrily ee ’
to-night,’ she
aby to-nig K p

‘“* What are you here for ?’ I repeated, e
“They are aimin’ to kill you and your

- t utter a
“ So astounded I was, that for some time T could no

’ she continued.
"T asked, ‘that any one de-

“<'They ain’t far from us now,
his little one that has

“* Why is it, my good woman,

i did not hear it, for
“If any answer came to my question _ iy err

ee han
then a terrible blow from an unseen : t a great
my head, and I fell senseless. I eet 2 “There rt the
while before I recovered sufficiently to si bof re me; but my
Woman, squatted on the sand a few feet belo ¢

child was gone. inging to my feet.
“<< Where is the child? screamed, springing 10,0 plunge

: sak |
‘ Where is the child ?—tell me! Quick! ey “Where is the
this knife to your heart !—tell me, tell me

child ?’ red
“ ‘Come, now,’ she said, in the coolest wre povcee

Manner, ‘there’s no use gittin’ mad an a has; but if

ain’t got your youngun, though I nag ee Proce

that’s the way you're goin’ to take on, ‘or I'll kill you
“*Give me the child, I said, in a fury,

instantly ’ . to her
“Well, kill then,’ she said, as she arose paras best

feet; ‘kill! Then you'll have to git your y

: ae tch’s
je + ae forward to plunge the knife paretger rah
heart; but I had no knife,—it too had been ta

there insensible.
17*
  
 
   
   
    
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
  
 
 
  
   
  
  
 
   
  
 
 
  
  
  
 
 
 
 
  
   
 
 
 
 
   
 
 
 
 
 
 
  
 

    

   

198

 

KATE WEATHERS ; OR,

“*Ha! ha!’ the fiend laughed ; ‘maybe him that knocked
you down and got your baby got the knife too, didn’t he?
See here,’ she said, ‘ there’s no use makin’ yourself a fool ;
I've come to help you, like I said. I know who's got the
youngun, and maybe I can git it back for you; but then, if
I was to do it, I should want more pay than this. I know
what’s the matter with these folks that’s after you ; they’ve
got it goin’ around that you’ve got money buried hereabouts,
and they’ve sot in to git it, but I guess I mought fix it up all
right for you if I was of a mind to try.’

“My good woman,’ said I, humbly, ‘ forgive my rude man-
ner; I spoke in the frenzy of the moment, when [ discovered
that the child had been taken from me. Qh, get it back for
me, get it back, and a good God will bless you for the merciful
act! Get it and restore it to me, my good woman, for my life
is wrapped in the precious child! It is an orphan whose
parents were drowned when I was cast on the beach ; they gave
it into my charge before they died, and I vowed to God to save
it if possible. It was saved from a death in the floods, and
then it became mine, and dearer to me than my own life. Get
it and restore it to me (for you say you can do so), and a
lifetime of gratitude, besides’ all that I have or may get,
I will give; then you will not be half paid for the gen-
erous act. Qh, get the child, get it for me; noble, generous

“* But I can’t git it,’ she said, ‘till you git the money that
you've got buried, and put it in my hands to take to them that’s
got it; they'd kill me if I was to go to them for the youngun,
and not have the money with me: so if you ain’t got nothin’
but promises to pay with, there ain’t no use of sayin’ any more
about it, for that’s the eend of it.

“Surely,” said I, ‘you must know that I, who barely
reached the shore with the child, brought no money from the
wreck.’

“ «Well, ’sposin’ I did know that,’ she said; ‘do I know that
you ain’t found some that’s come ashore since you’ve been here?
Folks knows well enough that you ain’t been hangin’ about
here all this long time lookin’ for dead ones. You knows that,
too. And that ain’t all,’ she continued, as she turned to walk
away: ‘you ain’t never goin’ to git that youngun back till
the money that you've got buried comes. “Folks says you've

 

  

SCATTERED BY THE TEMPEST. 199

; : if you'd ruther kee’
Bot it, know you've got it; but then if you d ig p
it than to git the youngun back, keep it; that aS ee
“* Wait, wait,’ said I, recollecting the little Colma oa
coin; ‘T have money buried that I had forgot. Come,
dig it up, cle, ‘
Tet hg ! she said, with a horrible grin and chuckle, ‘ you
have, have you? Well, le’s git at it.’
“T went with her to the ship’s stern and dug up the box,
and gave it to her. 1
5 ee r
“What has you stopped diggin’ for ? ae A a
«this ain’t all !—this ain’t hal/; it ain’t nothin’.
igein’ yet | i
“Cec lias every cent,’ I said. ‘There are fifteen Spanish
doubloons, and it is all.’
s s all. : u

“<¢Tt ain't! it ain’t !’ she screamed ; ‘you're pai lig
Said there warn’t none; but here is some. I 3 7 some
no use for you to be tryin’ to fool them that a r you
things as well as you does. You've got to git ne 9 Iain
Won’t see that youngun never no more,—there, that's p: :
talk,’ ;

“<But, I swear to you,’ I said, wildly, ‘ that you pect ea
and if you doubt the truth of what I say, you may
Where you will.’ .

666 es where T will, eh?’ she screamed. oe one
use for me to sarch? How should I know where oe ae a
: ut you take me for a fool; so I ain’t goin’ to waste tin

Onger. Sarch, eh?”

oe Wait! a> P Leaid; “have you no ia Can your
heart feel no ity for one in my condition ’

“* Pity, ch? "he said, in a contemptuous ig aoe ee a
talkin’ to’me about your pity, or I'll put this knife throug
and through you in one minit !’ 5

Hae I saw, then, that she had the knife that nae bev ee
from me, and she knew that I was entirely in her pow et

“*«T have other things buried,’ said I, ‘but no ge: all Poi
they are valuable. Bring the child to me and you sha
everything,’ R i

“© Other things, ch ? she said, triumphantly ; ‘I phi

©; I ain’t goin’ to bother my time about none of it eget

ou, and the youngun too, may go to h if ae ce (and
to trust me! “Here I’ve run the risk of my life for you

 

 

  
  
   
  
   

 
  

 

 

 

200

 
  
 
 
 
  
 
  
  
 
  
 
  
 
  
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
  
  
  
 
 
 
 
 
  
 
   
  
  
  
   
  

KATE WEATHERS; oR,

like as anyway I shall git killed after all when I goes back),
and you're afeerd to trust me!’

“<T am not afraid to trust you,
to show you that I am not, [ will
up for you, if you think best.’

“<«Think best, eh ?” she said, fiercely ; ‘makes no difference
to me!’

“Come, then,’ I said, ‘let us go and get them.’

“Again she followed me around to the stern ; and I dug
up everything that I had buried. ‘Take them,’ I said; « they
are all.’

“* Now you had better git the money !’ she said.
“<« You have ail,’ said I.

“You lie!’ she said, angrily ;
buried,—and you must git it!’

“T have told you truly,’ I said, in despair.

“¢ Well,’ said the woman, in a milder tone, ‘I'll have to
take these along, I guess, and see what I can do for you.’

“With that she left me, lugging the packages off toward
the inlet. Never had I felt so utterly wretched and desolate,
I moved about this way and that (for I could not rest an in.
stant at the same place), moaning and wringing my hands.
My eyes followed the woman as long as she could ‘be seen
through the dusk.

“Then it occurred to me that the child might not be far
distant from me yet, and that I might follow her and possibly
recover it. Instantly I determined upon the rescue, or that
I would die in the attempt. I had no fear of death, and I
would pursue the wretch, if need be, to the very door of her
hut; for if the child were gone from me forever, I had noth-
ing left but my life, and of what value would that be?

“ Rapidly IT ran on until at last I could discern the dim
figures of two Persons; no doubt the confederate who had
stricken me and taken the child away had joined her, and
Was now assisting to carry the heavy packages. Frenzied as
I was, I knew that it would be but madness for me to make

an attack upon two desperate people, one of whom (very prob-
ably both) had arms, while I had none at all.

“ Quick as thought I turned from the course IT had been
pursuing, but still continued on toward the inlet. Some weeks
before I had found an old, rotten skiff, which I had concealed

good woman,’ I said; ‘and
go now and dig the packages

‘you know you’ve got money

  

SCATTERED BY THE TEMPEST. 201

: rdi-
as well as I could at a point in the inlet remote ser bee 2
nary place of crossing; and now my plan it aude
that old skiff and cross to the other side before the long, and
“Noiselessly, but swiftly, I paddled my v4) 7 ae ag
Soon the opposite shore was reached; the other 14: Then I
more than half-way across; 1 heard them Ss kui
Sped across the loose sands toward the pat it, I climbed
through the thicket to the huts: upon pyrneges = ‘and waited
into the top of a little oak that hung over the pat te
for the coming of the fiends; my intention being ‘Possibly
down upon their heads as they passed under me. ree
they had the child with them, and I might irre i jie
“Tt was not long before I heard their voices; then
See them,—a man and the woman. i
are goin’ to stop here and blow a spell,’ the man said,
‘for that trank’s heavy, and I’m tired.’ : 3

“*Git under the ster of the trees,’ said the woman ;
“somebody’ll see us out here.’

“The Aa struggled on until he got amas par Beet
eased the trunk from his shoulder and sat upon it;

Seated herself’ near by in the sand. »

“¢ Ain’t ther no uc ft in this trunk ?’ the man br ong ‘Tf

““Dve told you there warn’t,’ she pegperdlie. bo best.
he's got money he knows how to keep it, for I’ve ye Ti find
and I couldn't git none out 0’ him,—not a nn - ai
i yet; for I know well enough he’s got it burie ma cae?

“You're lyin’ !’ said the man; ‘I know you go aa ma I

“Foun Wis? the-wotant answered, passionately ;
didn’t get a cent !’ ;

“* What was the use of killin’ the youngun for what's
here?’ the man asked

‘ . , she

“Is you gone and killed that youngun ?” she asked, as
Sprang to her feet, in’

“* Killed it? Yes! Didn't you tell me when re om
off with it that the best way to keep - a cryin’ was
its throat and then fling it into the inle :

“And didn’t you have sense enough, asked yp the
ficreely, ‘not to do it till we had got the money ? before the
eend of it! You've gone and killed the youngun Sie
money was got! I™’spected to git the money nex

i i 7 i nywa
Went; but what’s the use of goin’ agin, when, like as anyway,
1*

 
    

   
    
    
    
    
      
         
    
    
      
     
   
     
    
           
     
   
   
  
   
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
  
 
  
 
 
  

 

202

 

KATE WEATHERS; OR,

the first thing the man sees to-morrow will be that dead
youngun,—for he’s nigh about all his time walkin’ up and

down the shore, specially about the inlet, where he gits all his
eatin’. Yes, that’s the last of i

t; and all because you are a

fool !’
“<«Tf I’m a fool,’ said the man, ‘i
in your devil’s messes !—but I’m d

Here I’ve killed two folks to-night, and all to pleasure you;
for what's I got by it? But I know well enough you've got
money ; and I mean to have my share of it, too.’
“¢You’re a liar!’ said the woman, as she drew the knife
from her bosom and held it threateningly before the man.
“* Well,’ he said, in a more humble tone, ‘if you ain't got
money I've killed two folks.’
““And there you are a liar, ag’in,’ she said.‘ Didn’t I tell
, you that the man come to after you come off, and that he went
and dug up these things at the stern of the wreck ?’
“All this time I was sitting on the limb, more dead than
alive. My child had been cruelly murdered and thrown into
the inlet by the heartless wretches, T groaned ; for oh, how
my heart ached! The man and woman, hearing the groan,
started, and turned their faces up toward me, but it was so dark
in the thick tree-top that they saw me not.

“< That was his spirit !’ said he, in great alarm. ‘I frilled
him! I know I did!’

“The woman was evidently badly frightened, for she made
no reply, but only continued to look up into the tree. ‘I
guess it was the wind,’ she said, at last. ‘I don’t see nothin’.’

“No longer able to control my feelings, with a maniac yell
I sprang from the limb full into the woman’s face, and crushed
her to the earth. Then, seizing a club that was near by, I be-
labored her in the most unmerciful manner, and then left her
lying there dead, as I supposed, to pursue the fleeing man,

“On I went through the dreary path, yelling loudly at times,
and at times calling out ‘ Stop, murderer, stop !’ Soon I reached
a hut, and imagining that the man I was pursuing lived at it,
I burst through the door. But no soul was within. Then
again I thought of the woman, and sped back, intending to

spend my fury upon her already dead body,—but she had
gone.

t’s for mixin’ myself up
one with sich after this |

“ For hours I was running and walking about in every direc-

   

       

SCATTERED BY THE TEMPEST. 203

tion in the hope of" finding either the man or saaear une ‘
was a madman then. I had forgot that I had fo ape
Tescue the child, and was only intent upon murdering the
crers), but no one was to be seen or heard. There I
“T passed through the thicket to the sound side. peer
Stood in silence. Reason was beginning to return. draw te
Was moored near by. I got into it, raised the sail, aac
anchor, and sailed away. Ah! bitterly I cursed the oe I had
lived there as T sat with my face toward the land that
just left, i
“Ou I went, knowing nor caring whither. On I — ar
to sail, and the first land that my feet touched was be ‘ n
eech-covered island in Wild Lake. There, away from huma

: : |
Society, I have dwelt ever since. Twenty-nine ree
Pe

* * * * as
“Fifteen years passed, during which time I saw on ines
eing. Fifteen years of solitary life, during which hott re-
Persuading myself that I hated all mankind, and ee f e
ferred the society of the denizens of the forest Pe = .
kind. But ah, that was an age of misery! Fifteen a
of misery! A terrible storm came. For three days ne
Winds raged. All around in the wilderness trees were = *s
off and uprooted ; all above and around was gloom and dreari-
ness. : i

« During those three dark days my thoughts did noche
but dwell upon the far past,—the time when my life kg 8 oe
and peaceful in the society of men. I knew that a x
pleasures had departed never to return; and yet, for the sss
ume in fifteen years, I had a longing to stand out once ere
In the sunlicht of the world of human creatures oy bat
around at the scenes that I so vividly remembered, if for bu
& Moment. I would be content to return then again to my

Tear world, and dwell in it to thé end of my life. ae

& The storm passed, A morning of sweet calm foll owe he .

left my hut and went and stood at the shore of Wild ‘. ‘
Its waters seemed to be more light and peaceful ek Lig
€ver seen them. I stepped into the skiff and paddled a 7 7
the creek ; then into and through it into Picture River, t at
not seen before for years. On I went through ‘ate

lyer into the lower ereek, and still on throug pres Thad
the broad river. I know not why, but all this time I ha

had

 
    
     
    
    
       
 
 
 

 
  

 

 

204

 
  
 
  
 
 
 
 
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
  
 
  
   
  
 
 
   
   

KATE WEATHERS 3 OR,

?

as a lunatic is happy, who has at last escaped from his long
confinement.

“Still, on I went toward the world T hated. And oh, how
I trembled for joy when my little skiff shot out from the nar-
row creek into the great blue river! Yonder—yonder away
was the bright rim of the world within which men dwelt!
I sat upon the thwart and held my paddle and laughed and
yelled, trembling like a leaf as I did so. Again I dipped the
paddle in the water and struck out toward the deep channel.
I had the strength of a giant then, and the skiff fairly flew.
I felt as one who is unexpectedly taken from the dungeon in
which he has been fettered and bound during long weary years,
—whose fetters are snapped, and who is led from the dreary
cell and told that the heavenly sunlight is henceforth his,

“ Again, after a pause in the middle of the river, during
which I had been gazing wildly around me, I was gliding
away over the water ; and again I laughed and yelled, until the
echoes seemed as if troops of madmen were holding high car-
nival at the shores. And so, back and forth and up and down
I continued to go for hours. I had risen from the dark graye,
and the beautiful world, in which I had once lived gladly, was
mine again!

“ My boat had reached a point several miles above the mouth
of thecreek. I was looking at the horizon away beyond the
mouth of the river, and was about to turn back my boat, and bid
farewell forever to the beautiful scenes, when I heard a strange,
whining cry at the shore, a few rods distant from me. I listened:
the sounds were repeated. I was familiar with the voices of all
the animals that roamed in the great wilderness,—my home,—
but this was the voice of none of them. Being curious to
learn what it was, I paddled up to the shore, and began peep-
ing and peering under the boughs and among the bushes; but
although the crying was incessant; I could see nothing. :

“The bow of the skiff went scratching among the twigs
until it touched the land and stopped ; and though I had arisen
to my feet in the middle of the boat, and was looking with all my
eyes, still, I could see nothing that uttered the feeble cries that

I was continually hearing. Happening at last to glance into a
little cove near ‘the boat, I discovered an old, battered skiff
that had worked its way under the clustering reeds and wild-

the feeling that I was doing wrong; yet I was happy,—aye,

a

 

: 205
SCATTERED BY THE TEMPEST.

r ies! They
Toses, and in the bottom of this lay two a> bry was fast
were side by side on their backs. ser iy Bt and crying
asleep, still; the other was kicking up its 4 discovery that L
lustily, So startled was I at this unexpecte x, It was some
came near leaping out of the boat into a4 pis I saw ; but when
time before I could realize the truth ys er 7 S oneness into my
T did so, oh, what a thrill of ecstatic gladness came inte Mp
heart ! For a time I stood there, yn ak

child. Then I got upon my knees, and sor i
that he had placed the precious little wai
dear little babies !””

n my way two

 

CHAPTER XXI.

vf ED.
FLEEING, THOUGH NOT PURSU

the other, into my
oa Thad hastily torn
d for them, and soon
bed was soft, and they

“'TENDERLY I lifted the babes, one a

boat, and laid them on the bed of moss,
from the overhanging limbs and sprea
they were both fast asleep,—for the see bare, hard planks.
Were, no doubt, weary from lying on wt am, and stood up
Then I paddled out a little way into the aul avdeia minutes;
and gazed all around in every direction * nil off toward
but no one was to be seen, and I ree re tin ing, as she
the creek. On went my skiff, foaming, bags ereck’s month!
Went. Ah, it was not long before I got oe hed all around ;
Before entering it I stood up again, ‘eli ha and yet I was
still, no one appeared in view. I felt reliey away with to my
Uneasy,—for, whose children was I fyine ursued and over-
Solitary island? and would I not surely be p up the creek ,—
taken? I must not wait! Away I went, on up

turn and bend, ex-
continually casting back my eyes at every that it would be

pecting to see the pursuers, and yet big the start I had.
Impossible for any boat to overtake me,

ioht skiff went fly-
Picture River was reached, and away my vaeid waters. Not

had I paused since

in an agony now,
leaving the broad, blue river,—and yet ; water more tial two
for here was a straight re broad wa

 
   
 
 
 
 
  
  
 
 
  
 
  
 
 
  
 
 
  
 
 
  
 
 
  
 
  
  
  
 
 
 
  
  
 
  
  
  

206 KATE WEATHERS ; OR,

-miles long. TI feared even to glance back, for I was constantly
listening to hear, ‘ Stop, wretch, or die!’ The lake was at last

crossed, and as I was about to turn the bend and enter the

sunk to rest, and the beautiful
like a mirror. Still, I halted not,
er; still, my skiff went bounding

; ‘
continually turning back my eyes, expecting the pursuer, and
imagining that the swashi

ng at.the shores of the wave that
my boat raised was Avs boat in the wake of mine. I had no
fears for myself, for I would not have hesitated to grapple with
a giant then ; but, oh, I might, after all, lose my new-found,
my precious treasures | Ah, the pursuer might have been
their own father,—nay,

he might have been a demon,—his
' fiery eyes might have pierced me, his bitter curses might have
rained upon me, his deadly arm might have been uplifted,

but I would not have consented to share my treasures with
him! I should have clung to the precious babes while I had
strength to stand and strike.

“ For some time after my ski
of beeches I continued to stand, li
from the pursuer. But no sound ca
the distance. Then I sat upon th

smiled upon my little half-naked innocents,—looked and
smiled, while tears flooded my face. There they lay upon the
bed of moss, side by side, cheek to cheek, still fast asleep.
Oh, I laughed, I wept, I sobbed ! Happy thoughts crowded
into my mind. I would make them a rocking-cradle, a bed of
otters’ furs, and clothing of soft, pliable skins. But then the
thought came,—how shall they be fed? Where should I pro-
cure food suitable for children not more than three or four

months old? Grogs meats, and the acid wild-berries would not
do for them ; but they must have something, and speedily, too.
What, what should it be? How speedily are formed our attach-

mstances. Three hours ago I knew

me, not even faintly, from
e thwart, and looked and

 

 

 

 

 

     

207
SCATTERED BY THE TEMPEST.

; od for my
young. The thought struck me that ag a thought,
little waif might be supplied by her. he skiff into my arms,
T lifted them tenderly from their bed in the my own bed in the
and carried them up and placed them ie in its mother.
hut. Then I went and separated the apt d carried ber and
Then I took the little girl from the — Nor did I grow
held her to the udders of my patient do d to hold the child
impatient at many failures, but continue maw’ succeeded
under the gentle animal, and after — s f nourishment. I
in getting it to draw a plentiful supply yee again. Then
laid her Sinaia on the bed, and soon she was t the stubborn little
I took the boy, but no inducement could e manner ; and after
fellow to consent to take his food in such a. compelled to give
a full hour’s patient but fruitless trial T “I had caught in my
it up and cast about for something else. birds, and these I
traps on that morning a rabbit and cag I could bring to
Prepared for the table with all the art Ne inviting and suited
bear, in the hope that the dishes might ne who, during the
to the taste of the hard-headed little fe did nothing but kick
whole time I was preparing his grey
up his heels and ery at the top of his of these precious ones
“Strange it may seem, yet the crying d of the happiest
was music to me,—music that reminde od was the days of
period of my whole life,—though that Pehla was with me. I
Sorrow and anxiety when my dear little ¢ now doing. If the
felt that much depended upon what I bat robability lose my
attempt should prove a failure I should in pe When I had
Pretty little boy, who would die of starv Il bits and held them
got the meats cooked, I cut off some a hedigdt at seeing the
to the child’s mouth. Imagine my iy veaekiuk the pieces
hungry little fellow not only vigorously in the smallest bits
that T presented to him, but even taking all relish for
and swallowing them. He seemed to meres ae it was pre-
the roast rabbit, and was always ready to pact in feeding either
sented to him,- Ihad no difficulty rab unsuccessful
of the children (except that I man ® the doe), and they
attempts to get the boy to take milk -_ became the attach-
Continued to be fat and rosy. So ren t when the child got
ment of my doe for its little nursling, tha ld go voluntarily,
old enough to walk, the gentle creature sn be distressed, and
whenever the little one would ery or seem

 
 

208

stand over it, offering j
she failed to quiet it.

their growth, and I
desired to be.

es ; how they erected great houses to

live in, and to transact business in. I told them about the
ocean, and how ships plied upon it fr

0 skilled have they becom
this simple instrument, that probably you would be surprised
to see the pictures that they have drawn on the white, smooth
bark of the beeches at home. They have learned to read,

hey never saw a book, and to sing by note, though

music other than such as I drew
e sand or up

on the smooth bark. Ever have I
been inventing for their instruction ; and, in all their

xg oles s

 
 
  
   
  
 
   
 
 
  
    
  
  

   

Sioa Se

iy
%
ei

 

serials

  

    
  

~ 209
SCATTERED BY THE TEMPEST.

jo r of which
and of fowls and birds, and even of getty: gett rendered
there is abundance hereabout. chen ur grim pets quite
tame ; and, in course of time, we had o h same I educated,
a menagerie: Some of the individuals of th ae for our amuse-
too, and taught them to perform many tric d my children the
ment T tnade bows and arrows, and rages as perfect a
use of them, and eae at oe Robin oe hd
ver Wiliam - that shall ven
<-s harnp tty to bring down the regen = been ;
Within twenty rods of them. Thus has et have persuaded
and so readily they have comprehentied, * ie to see for them-
myself to believe that: when they should come to #00 ft Oe
Selves those things only the existence * ti And, believing
the sight would not greatly surprise the that the time would
this T have been content ; for I told them st go forth together
come that I would die, and that then pris a pate of. Four-
and dwell in the bright world eget. : my pretty waifs—
teen years have passed since I ns Be J
and these are pen Ar and Aan yar we the only persons,
“Indeed!” said Marie. . time?”
except yourself, that they have seen laren a
“They have seen no other,” old have become so wedded
“T suppose,” said Marie, “that you ve change?” ;
to your secluded life that you desire not said old Basil ; “ until
a henht 80, lady, until yesterday TT Take. But every
saw the young man and his boat in V e—thinking! 'Think-
hour since that time I have been ret came, and in which
ing of the beautiful world from which of my childhood,
I ‘was once happy; thinking of the ice of the once dear
and youth, and early manhood; thin in my heart as ever
friends, whose images are still as perfect up that, possibly, after
they were ; thinking of more than t ars e precious children
all, I was doing great wrong in keeping t amet the heart of a
ere, passing away their earthly existence isolated, separated
great wilderness cut off from rrigeare epee that the sunset
from all God’s rational creatures ! Lapeer She it would be
of my day is fast approaching, and wonde hut in! Yes, lady,
With these when the darkness wie ness would be my
until yesterday, I thought that this wilder ot under a great
earthly home ARRAS had selected : sp ime there when
" branching beech, and told — to bury m

  
 

 
 
 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

   

  
 
  

210

 

KATE WEA THERS; OR,

death should come. But in all my teachings, how could I
teach them what death is? They that have never seen death |
I shall not be buried on the island in the lake, though calm
and peaceful might be the resting-place. The great busy
world in which I was born and reared must give me a last
resting-place. All the pleasures of this wild life are now
spent. I can nevermore be content here, I feel now that I
must lose no time in taking my children into the world, where
God intended they should be. Never again shall I behold the
spot where I have so long dwelt, and where, for fourteen years
at least, all has been gladness for me. Upon leaving the green

island and the calm waters of Wild Lake on yesterday, I had
no doubt but that I should return before the sunsetting ; then

I would make known my plans to my dear children; and then,
we would bid farewell forever to the still solitudes that I had

learned so to love,—the only world that my precious children
have ever known. But we will never return. ‘To-morrow
we will depart from hence, but in another direction ; to-morrow
we will turn our faces toward civilization—toward the light
that these have not known,—to-morrow j;—I know not when
or where we will rest, but not until the habitation of man shall
be found! Yes, to-morrow we will make the start.”
“To-morrow ?” asked Jeannot,
“To-morrow ?” asked Frangois,
“ And never again return to Wild Lake and the Island of
Beeches?” asked Paul.
“ Nevermore go to the calm Solitude? Never ag
the Spirit of Picture River ?” asked Lucie.
“ Dear Basil!” said Fawn, throwing her arms around the

old man’s neck, and weeping and sobbing there,—* dear Basil,
never return ?—never ?—nevermore !”

“Never, child!” said the old man, firmly but kindly.
“ Nevermore !”

“ And never again
Fawn.

ain greet

see Gracie and her pretty ones?” sobbed

“ They, child, will return whence we took them,” said the
old man. “God gave them life here in the wilderness. He

gave them home here; but though their home, it is not
ours.”

Again the sorrowing child wept, moaning.
“Dear Fawn,” said Timon, as he placed his arm affec-

  

        

211
SCATTERED BY THE TEMPEST.

: ‘ her tear-wet
tionately around his sister's waist and kissed

vei - and he is
cheek, “do not weep so sadly. Basil =e os te pray
far wiser than we. The God that he re eet ones, but
to will provide, not only for Gracie ug i, Ar it is better
also for us. Weep not so, ~~ put it i
that hould go away, for Basil say: ; ell out
“« My ecb. ro I goed old Basil. eg noble to dw
the life that God has given in this ila ae
“T am resigned now, dear Basil, Png
head, and smiling sweetly through her
best.” ‘ ld only
The old man’s heart was too full to —< 5 shake heart
Press more closely to his bosom the beautiful g
throbbed quickly on his. a. » said Marie, in
& No a “ the wide world to ‘aim abe 8 into the
a low tone to herself, as she looked we yi are tender
little streamlet. “It is a cold world, an d
lambs !” hispere
“ Yeg? said the old man, who had heard the whisp
words. “ But God is their shepherd. 1
‘ “How long, Frangois,” asked Paul,
here ?” ‘ Master
“y have been asking myself the se x peers here
aul. I know no good reason why aT: ¥
another day. What think you, Jeanno ” Jeannot answered.
“T am glad to say that we agree, h ie doubt Pedro
“We have been here more than a meg * d now the trouble
and his gang have gone from the coast. rg boat that we
jist I chiefly apprehend is the matter of the beat tle
brought away. I must admit that I a they will com-
rude people who live upon the coast. pe the taking and
bine and make common cause against us chief wealth,—his
ringing away that which is the banker's eins let the con-
boat. However, sooner or later, we must ‘ined te think that
Sequences be what they may ; and I wid sp Therefore, in
the sooner we go the better it will be se to make an early
MY opinion, we can do nothing better sag e lady’s opinion ?
Start to-morrow morning. ~~ caper ,
er judgment may be better than it j
¥ My kind and pnb friends, es yee towar
Posed to leave all with you, who have acte

, raising her
“ You know

“are we to remain

   

 
 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

       
      
   
 

  

 
 
 
   
     
    
 
  
   
   
     
 
 
 

212 KATE WEATHERS ; OR,

 

  

“ But, lady,” said Frangois, “
should all consider well the sugge

Tt may be that disast,
we may adopt,—that ruin will follow all our care and prudence:
therefore we prefer to hear from you,—whether your prefer-
ence is to remain here yet longer, or to start out to-morrow as
has been suggested.”

“ Heretofore,” said Marie, “T have said
interference with

gaping jaws of death and ruin.
still is, in Our Father, who sees
as you desire an expression of m

I fully concur with you, and th
to the coast the better,”

“Oh, I am so glad!” said Lucie, clapping her hands as she
spoke,—* so glad that w

€ are going out to-morrow to look for

dear, dear, dear papa! I know he has been all this long time
sadly searching and inquiring for us; and i
to search for him. Do

you think, Francois, that we shall soon
find him after reaching the coast ?”

“T pray God we may,” the feeling-hearte

“And then,” continued the glad girl, “
Fawn along with us too.

can we not, Francois?”

“ Without difficulty,” Francois answered ; “but it may be

that such an arrangement might not suit these who are strangers

tous. We shall have great dangers to encounter ; and it would

My sure trust has been, and
and knows all things. But,
Y opinion now, I will say that
ink that the sooner we return

d man answered.
we shall have dear
We can all go in the boat together,

 

it is very important that we
stion that has been made be-
er will follow whatever course

   

  

a

  

  
  

   
     
    
     
       
 
  

        

SCATTERED BY THE TEMPEST. 213

 

—certain]
dition,”

. sls 6
“T well understand your condition,” said old yee ‘ -
yet, Tam not sure but that we shall have as great ns, vid
risks to contend with as you will have. I know fa a te
man and helpless children might be more a clog t o hanes
© you, even if you should consent to take the ad gu Lge oe
Upon yourselves of our going with you. Only one * 6 ‘ingly
Promise in such a case; and that is, that I yas an cid
0 everything that might be in my power nie pagent nf
eral good. Tt may be that I should not be able Lara
yet Tam blessed still with health and strength, and I mig ry
of some assistance. I had no idea of this when 4 a ie
ave said before. For my plan was, that my ~ woe ae
myself should make our way from Wild Lake ode ns
wilderness to the sound, and there await for an ee
Cross over to the coast. Or, if there should be pale Per
© cross, to construct a raft of dead wood that ~ a . ee ba
and then wait for a fair wind to waft us over. ; 1 Pi Ma ae
Sent to take us in your boat, we should be gh l ght re aS
trouble, Understand me, though, my friends, t ¥ ee
should never have come from me; for it would be f ep
from my thoughts to delay or hinder you; for I gs aa hae
M may speedily end well, not only for this dear Is y
children, but also for you, their brave protectors.” dct

“ Not only do we consent for you to go with us, ee Ber Seo
Gois, “ but we shall be thankful for your assistance an Pete
AS to its being convenient for us to take you along, * to ihn
74> 88 you yourself know, that we have plenty pe * of aaah
boat ; besides, the addition of your weight wou h . a: cask
benefit: to us, in case we should be hanes with high winds up
Teaching the broad waters of the sound. : ‘

Paul was SO ‘delighted at hearing all this that ait hart
know how to express his feelings. “ What do ae ten
little Bobkins,” he said; “we are going off papain,
Papa! Do you want to go along with us as a p ome
Mind you though, if you go, you must not be = pve
Coming out of the cabin and romping about on t on!”
ever leave the cabin before a ies mamma $ permiss:

“No, I won't, budd said Murat. ‘
“T don’t eA sie about that,” said Paul; “ you prom

y not until they should be fairly warned of our con-

 
    
 

 

you know I did, you fri
So no more, buddy. F

t big boy now; and I w
said Paul,

sky little Bobkins !”
rangois and Jeannot
as a little boy then.”
pompously ; “TI suppose we will

"said Lucie, «
T know yo
aid Paul, “T thin

“ But I won't do
say that IT am a grea
“Very. well,”
have to try you.”
“ Oh, Fawn,’
so many people !
“Timon,” s
you, by poi

  
  
 
  
   
 

you will see so man

y things, and
u will

 
  
 
  

 

be well
me as you can all the time.”

Timon smiled as he m
young gentleman for his ge

“Oh, mamma,”
going to see papa ?”

“God grant, m
soon see him or h

  

odestly thanked the la

herous intentions,
ain’t you glad that we are

Y dear little boy,” said
ave tidings from him,”

 

rge-hearted

 

 

 

said Murat, «

 
  
 

Marie, “ that we may

 
 
  
 
  
 
 

gois put the boat in good order, -

Over the bow-end he
a framework for an aw

this was so fitted that, by
table and rain-proof shelter
me, by spreading the main-
quantity of dry moss
ottom of the boat, and over

fitted
unship

  

ning:

 
 
  
 

: he brou

ght a
put it in the b

 
  
   

 

215
SCATTERED BY THE TEMPEST.

eater sed

“ Now, Master Paul,” said Frangois, “ scat yt pcg | 7
from her moorings and off before the dawning 0 ween and in
Her stores are all on board, and her furniture comple may be
aa Take care to be awake in good time, or you 1
eft behind,” ; I

“No danger of being left,” said Paul, “ for ore viel
have concluded that we will sit straight up and al him before
night out, You know I have a great deal to te
We start,”

gee O1s
“T do not think the arrangement a good one, arti
& fop both you and Timon will feel much better to-m: daichii
® good night’s rest. You need not, indeed, partie evened
yourself, for, depend upon it, you will have dT will be here to
You to wake you; and besides, Jeannot an
take the house from over your heads. ing houses of boat-

“That is funny, isn’t it, te : that Fran-
Sails, and boat-sails of houses? I really do aoe
Gois and J, cannot can do anything in the world! morning, the

t the first dawning of day, on the opti? e, and the

Whole company embarked at Pine Island lan ing, oak ake
little ship moved away through the dark Arcade oe ata
the calm waters of Picture River. Beatte ec  vaniael of
tered in the sky, and Venus, star of morning, mos dome above
re host, hung like a silvery lantern from the blue do

© dreaming lake. gli
€ oars werd placed in the rowlocks, and the perth
through Picture River to the music of the “ar row.
umble, and the hum of bubbling waters at her p

away
and r

CHAPTER XXII.

TERY.
OPENING FIRE FROM THE MASKED BAT

“Tr that yonder ain’t Jim Beam’s cunner, I seo poet
Bug life?" said Peggy Strubl, pointing out perenne
Bluff, at a boat that was slowly creeping along be ht: wall
breeze, “It’s her sure ! and them devils is comin’ bac t pvt
let em come! But if they don’t look sharp they won

   
 
 

 
 

 

216 KATE WEATHERS 3; OR,

over everything this time, like they did afore,
on!”

At the time Pegey spoke, she and her son and. Nancy
Weathers were standing at the sound shore. They had just
come out of the thicket, and descended the slope of the little
ridge, that runs all along parallel with the shore, to the water’s
edge, where was, hauled half out of the water, a light skiff,
such as the North Banker uses for fishing his nets in the
shallow waters.

It is a wonder that the coming boat had not been descried from
the top of the ridge, for the banker has a quick eye that habit
has taught to sweep the great watery plains in an instant of
time; and it is seldom he reaches an elevation in his path,
however slight it may be, that the whole scene around is not

Let ’em come —

pictured on his eye before he descends to the level again. But —

Peggy and her companions had been wrangling as they came
along as to who should go back to the shelter for the net-

SCATTERED BY THE TEMPEST. 217

the truth of what she had asserted, for no one better se ©
im Beam’s boat than she did. Instantly, after epeak ing, -
had dropped the bundle of nets on the sand and ascende =
ridge again, on her way back towards the thicket. Upon reac a
1ug the summit she turned her face again towards the —
Oat, as if for the purpose of removing any shade of a = ‘
tom her mind that might remain. Then, rapidly —— ing
on the opposite side, she hurried up the path towards the rude
Shelter which she and her companions had left a short time
efore, :
This shelter, which was the abiding-place of herself and "
Son and Nancy, had been recently erected near the ashes 0
the hut that Pedro’s band had burned a month before. +
4 tude dwelling,—four forks and four poles anes : e
‘ame of it, and it was roofed with a few old boards ani “i
branches of trees. On the back and two sides, pee S
Wattled together took the place of weather-boarding, a the
ypen front answered the place of both doors and windows.

stakes and bailing-gourd, which she insisted had been left, but

which Pete and Nancy said were already in the skiff; so, when sand f “eines to the rear roof-pole were two
they passed over the ridge, all eyes were turned towards the Wolke ae ter a for the two long, flint-and-

skiff, to see whether the lacking things were in it or not, Stee] 1 wder-horn, shot-
f i uns, se hooks hung the po y
It was when they reached the skiff, and were standing there and from these hoo 2

at its bow,—Pegey with the nets in her hand that they were othine else cays lline,
on their way to set, Nancy with a paddle and a couple of light k Sn en wiealin thes ad wething
ours on her shoulder, and Pete with his shoulder against the the family cooking was done

(a J

bow, preparing to push the’boat off into the water,—that Pegoy Pegey entered and walked straight back to the rack and
looked out upon the waters for the first time, and recognized took ‘owen one of the guns and the powder and shot. A

the boat that had been so long lost. doubl down the barrel, upon
“Tt does look like her, sure enough,” said Nancy, gazing which. oe puna a. two ounce-balls were
out. ‘“They’re headin’ this way, too. I guess they had sich a dropped on that oe d these were wadded and rammed ; the pan
easy times when they was here before that they ain’t agoin’ to and touch-hole and flint were then carefully examined ; after all
sneak up now like they did then ; but maybe they’ll find out Which the woman hurried back to the shore with the gun.
after a spell that they ain’t all that can sneak. Shouldn’t “ Cuss their hearts !’’ she hissed through her clinched teeth,
wonder if somebody else don’t try that trick this time. It as she approache * agri ompanions, “maybe they've got it into

does look like her,” their he; + kill: ‘I risk her now! They shall
“Tt ts her, too,” said Pete. “There ain’t nary mainsail cut See md sr ie barry sha A Saami if Jim Beam did!”
like that that goes about on these waters: look at that sharp “ What nd ig oin’ to do with that gun, mammy ?” asked
peak ; and see how high her bow sets out o’ the water. It's @ Pete, as his eae laid the gun down on the sand. “ Don t
her. you know that one can’t do nothin’ against ten? Is you gom
Peggy Strubl had not heard the remarks made by N: ancy to shoot into them folks?”
and Pete, nor did she need to hear them to be convinced of K oe

. : the
Vithin this dwelling rushes and sea-grass were spread on

‘ . 7 adding.
Sourd, and little vas bag that contained flints and wadding
> ittle canvas bag Tn ‘front of i steeee

ettle and a broken frying-pan ; there, and with these utensils,

19

 

 
 

    
  
 
   
  
 
 
 
  
 
 
 
  
 
 
   
 
   
   
   
    
 
  
    
 
 
   
    

 

218

 

KATE WEATHERS; OR,

“Wait and see,” the woman answered, frowning darkly as
she spoke. ‘“ Maybe I knows well enough what I’m doin’.”

“ Needn’t a been in sich a hurry to git the gun,” Nancy —

growled, “for it'll take ’em two hours yet to come near enough
to shoot ’em.”

“ Don’t I know that?” said Peggy. “No, they ain’t aimin’
to git here till after night shuts in. They’ve got more deviltry
in their heads: I see that plain enough. They’d put the oars
out if they wanted to come; but they’re goin’ to baffle about
out there till it comes on dark, and then they’re goin’ to change
their course and land above us. I see what they’re up to.
Pm studyin’ for ’em: but let ’em come on, fast or slow. I’m
ready for em any way.”

“Yes,” said Pete, impatiently, “and you're fixin’ to git
sarved like daddy was. Don’t you know we three can’t stand
up to them ten?”

“Tf you're afeerd of ’em, you nasty sarpent,” said Peggy,
“T ain’t; nor I wouldn’t be if there was a hundred of ’em.

Tf there’s many or few of ’em, all of ’em ain't goin’ to leave —

North Banks that lands out of that boat. That ain’t all
neither: that cunner’s ‘got to be got back from them devils,
and you, and me, and Nancy Weathers has got to git her.”

“ Hadn’t I better go tell Stam, and Len, and Sol, and the
others to come and help about it ?” asked Pete, in astonish-
ment at the rash resolution of his excited mother. “TI tell
you, mammy, we three’d have a devil of a time of it with
them ten.”

“How do you know there’s ten?” asked Peggy, fiercely ;
“but then I don’t care if there’s a hundred, I tell you. No:

I ain’t goin’ to have no Stam Weathers nor Len Curtses

around me. The first thing they’d do would be to go out in
the sound to meet ’em and tell ’em we was waitin’ here to shoot
‘em. _ It’s got to be did by us. There, that’s plain, I guess.”

“ You'd better not be a fool,” said Pete. “ Ain’t I had to
do with ’em once? And don’t I know what they is ?”

“ Now, see here, Pete Beam: maybe you think I’m goin’ to —

 

run,—run, eh? I’d see’em in h first! No, I’m goin’
to stay right here and wait for ’em, and you and Nancy
Weathers is goin’ to do the same: and now, maybe you can
guess what made me bring this gun in sich a hurry? If any
one of you shows run when they comes, I'll just put two

 

  

   
  
   
 
   
    
   
   
 
 
   

   

SCATTERED BY THE TEMPEST. 219

     

ounce-balls through your lights in less’n no time ; that’s what
Pl do! Pegey Strubl has got her plans laid this time ; and
it makes no difference to you what they is, only that you two
18 goin’ to help to carry ‘em out. Git in that skiff, Nancy
Weathers, and take the bow-oar! And you, Pete Beam, set
there on the starn-seat, with the paddle ready to steer. I’m
80ln’ out yonder to see how many they is, and how they’re
Settin’, before it gits too dark to see ’em.”

“You'd better stay where you is,” said Pete. ‘“ How do
you know but what they’ve got guns? And even if they
shouldn’t have, like enough they’ve got four oars to our two.
Don’t be a fool, mammy.” a

“ Fool or not, I’m goin’ out there in this skiff. I’m goin
to run ’round them devils too; and you and Nancy is goin’,
like I told you.” 7

Naney looked savagely toward the speaker: a horrible scowl
Was on her face.“ Who said I was goin’ ?” she growled.

“I said so,” said Peggy, as she advanced, and held her
clinched fist before the hag’s withered face. ‘ Now tell me
What else you wants to know before we starts. Git in that
skiff | Now iw

Nancy made no reply, but turned and stepped suddenly into
the boat as she had been commanded to do. Taking her seat
on the bow-thwart, she placed her oar in the rowlock, and
Waited in grim silence for further orders. ;

ete stood hesitating still. “'They’ll kill us,” he said, “sure

a8 we 8°; and nary one of us won't never git back.” me

N Git in there!” said the scowling fiend. “I'm goin’, and
ancy ’s goin’, and you are goin’. We are goin’ to pull,—you

to steer,”

hi Pete well knew the danger of further argument: he seated
MMself in the stern, paddle in hand; and Peggy, wading,

Pushed the boat along before her, out to water that was deeper
an her knees,

xt Is you fool enough to start out sure ‘nough ?” asked
1 CY: 88 Peggy stepped into the boat, and seating herself,
srs the aft oar in its place.
I told

ands h I was goin’,” said Peggy. “ Yes, ’'m goin’,
you're goin’, and Pete’s goin’. You may b’lieve that!
“mon though Nancy was, she knew well enough the con-

Sequence of disobedience now ; for she, in her old age, lacked

 
  

     

   
  
 
 
   
     
   
   
   
 
  
    
    
   
  
   
  
  
    
   
 
   
  
  
  
  
  
  
 

 

 

 

220 KATE WEATHERS; OR,

much of being the physical equal of the stalwart woman who
commanded her. Her only reply was through her fiery eyes.

“Now, maybe you're both ready !” said Peggy. “ And see
here, Pete; I’ve got this oar in my hand: I can Ait as well as
pull with it. You know what larboard and starboard means ;
mind your helm, then, when you hears me call !”

“T guess,” Pete humbly suggested, “we'd better keep well
off from ’em, hadn’t we ? Maybe it’s like I said, that they’ve
got guns or four oars.”

“T don’t care if they’ve guns and fourteen oars !” said Peggy.
“ You ain’t nothin’ to do but steer, and Nancy ain’t nothin’ to
do but pull that bow-oar. If they kills us, or catches us, let
7em do it !”

Neither Pete nor the bow-oarsman had another word to say,
and the little boat shot away with the speed of the wind.

Before dipping her oar into the water the aft-oarsman had
bared her saffron-hued arms to the very shoulders, and now
at every stroke she made with the tough bending oar the great
muscles of those powerful arms would swell and sink with the
strain. And though she that pulled the bow-oar did it with
graceful ease, yet her strength and endurance were taxed to
the utmost. Incessantly and with all her might she labored,
but almost threescore-and-ten years were now weighing upon
her, and it was not with her as it had been in the days gone.
The helmsman bore hard down in her favor, yet even then it
was all he could do to keep the flying boat in her true line
while that stalwart aft-oarsman was plying her strengthful
strokes.

The little mop loosened and fell from the crown of Nancy’s
head, the tangled twist unwound, and the thin cloud of snow-
white hair streamed out before her face; but there was no
time to rest now, and she toiled and labored on, leaning back
on the bending oar and keeping regular time with her fellow.

An instant Peggy eased away, and turned her head and
looked at the coming boat that was now near at hand. Star-
board !” she called; « keep about a hundred yards off, run all
‘round her, and then back to shore ! Keep your eyes about
you, Pete, and count them that’s aboard: it ain’t so dark but

’
you can do it. See where they’re settin’ !”

Tt was not long before the circuit was completed, and the
skiff was foaming shoreward.

 

SCATTERED BY THE TEMPEST. 221

“ How is it?” Peggy asked of the steersman.

“'There’s ten in hen” said Pete; “five settin’ huddled to-
gether in the bow, two in the starn, and three on the middle
thwart,—one o’ them three looks like the Portugee.

Not another word was said by any one in the skiff ; on she
Went as fast as before, until her flat bottom went grinding on
the sandy shore. That instant Peggy leaped out into the
Shallow water and ran through it to the dry beach, and still
°n; Over the ridge and up the path to the shelter. The other
un she took from the rack and loaded as she had done the
first; then she hurried back with it to the skiff.

ancy Weathers, utterly exhausted, had got out and dragged
er Weary limbs up on the sand, and when Peggy returned she
found her lying stretched out, and without the power to arise
to her feet.” Pete was sitting on the head of the skiff, mute,
ut keenly watching his mother's movements; nor durst he
ask her questions now.
. The coming boat was hid now behind the shadows of even-
‘ng; but the rumble of oars told that, contrary to the prophecy
Peggy had made, she was coming straight on, and that she
Was not far away.

“Take this,” said Peggy to her son, as she handed to him
the gun that she had just brought from the shelter ; “ they'll
be near enough in five minutes, but don’t shoot till I do, for
T want to send two balls after that hell-hound of a Portugee
the first thing that’s done! Aim your gun into the bows,
Where they’re thickest, and wait till I shoots. Cuss their
ears they shall have it hotter than it was when they come

ore \?

Pete received the gun in silence; the mother took the other
Tom the sand; then side by side mother and son kneeled upon
their right knees, with their faces toward the coming boat, and
Peered through the darkness, both listening attentively, both
ae their fingers resting on the triggers. P

“ Here they are!” said Peggy, in a whisper; “be ready!
mind you don’t shoot till the smoke of my gun rises over your
+28, 80 as you can see what you're doin’: they ain’t goin
to git in much closer with their load,—but fifty yards will
do. ow! I hear their bottom serapin’. I’m goin’ to
Shoot |?”
A flash, a loud report; then heart-rending screams at the

19*
SCATTERED BY THE TEMPEST. 223

222 KATE WEATHERS; OR, desperadoes had landed and killed Peggy and wounded Pete,

, a : : ; lying
boat; then a deep groan from her that shot. Peggy Strubl lly ine, at the boat, while she had been lying
; nace he shore asleep.

tumbled back on the sand and was still. : : Whe Gar ue a f ‘yw’ aa Fs Cad Whe ellen ieee

Pete saw nothing but the boat before him, heard nothing whi hat shootin ae seine: “and whale
but the loud report,—which was to him but the signal to shoot, aa Ri the place where Nancy wee “hotlerin’ a spell
—thought of nothing but the work he had in hand to do. mie pce fuss about? Warn’t women
His gun was raised at a steady aim on the dim figures in the " «Wh : Ree
bow, and he waited but an instant for the whiff of white smoke ~ ag ear talkin’ to?” asked pegs ”
to pass away. But while he thus waited a twang was heard «Ask sae S ery ’ bai Larhiso heres aie ae
at the boat, and then an arrow came whizzing through the air she is. lav; Ssy Strubl, for 1 don be she'll tell you, if you
and pierced deep into the marksman’s right shoulder as his Gin wa e down here by me; maybe she —
finger drew back the trigger. Then another bright flash, an- % Ho © her up: I can’t wake 3 a anak: isin gill
other loud report, another scream of distress from the boat, ong” Y Come she to be sleepin’ there, a és *

and two balls went whistling over the mast toward Roanoke ;
Island. is ., Ask her that, too, for I don't know.’

ree ‘ p ‘ ieking?” asked Pierre de
Nancy, who had all this time been lying on the sand in a Yr Bhs em not biber ss TO teas pep
state of semi-stupor, arose to a sitting posture, and stared about “Tain Mi 0 came rushing up a a ae
and around her. “ Who’s that shootin’?” she asked ; but no “But tell een shriekin’, Neacy a Plane “did I not hear
answer came to her question, for Peggy was lying back on the re cu Me, good woman,” said Pierre,

 

; : : male yoj re i go?”
sand, her right leg doubled under her, and her rolling, twit- «1, VOlces shricking here a few minutes ag

“ ‘ 037 “ bi
tering eyes sparkling in the starlight, at times breathing got a 1s T to know what you eam Sa etincpe™ Bah
heavily and at times snoring and gurgling as one tortured by ehkn ao count of pA Pl nee
horrible dreams ; and Pete was fleeing over the ridge. “ Who's « “sag ~ som about it? «Hf reese
that shot?” -she asked, in a louder voice. Still no answer believe me this way,” said Sol. ere s 9 ’
came; the only sounds she heard were the rumbling oar- | « Dead! oor ,
strokes, and she could dimly see a boat hasting away from oh PO ik O Is it? asked Pierre.
shore. Again she turned her eyes from side to side and gazed “ Get 8 like Peggy Strubl.” « Call the others out:
bewildered about. She could comprehend nothing, and yet quick ni pin’ Sol,” said Pierre. a eek, bet ee
she knew that something had gone wrong. Her ary er Téathiaca'” quick! She is not dead yet, fo
recollection was that she had gone out in the skiff,—her paine « a : i é
and stiffened limbs reminded her of this, then she remembered ’ “Ts heal. it to you if she be yes ie wes Rages —
the coming of Jim Beam’s boat toward the shore, and that the _ I don't ce = keep things to rights ? -
purpose of going out was to meet her and ascertain the num- ow as that’s any of your biznes!

a , “ Brute!” saiq Dp; : } 7 mercy ?—no
ber and position of those on board; but nothing more she _ pity 2” tel said Pierre, angrily, “have you no y

knew. She had not known of Peggy’s bringing the second “Who ie; - Ww
’ ‘ eathers.

gun from the shelter; nor had she known of mother and son’s «Ty br ay begin dead ? pag way with the
kneeling to shoot at those who were approaching. The loud light, Sol.” » 4ilerre answered.

reports had waked her from her deathlike stupor; she saw “Its p ren a ‘nkin’, that’s
Pete flying toward the thicket, and there, near her, Peggy sure! g ning Oona eng — sen! : sean i ioe ee realy
was lying in the sand, seemingly unconscious of what was that’s what's the Z me ws ’ Sc ety she’s holdin’ on to. the
transpiring around; a boat was retreating out to wider and atter ee ;

deeper waters. She could only conjecture that Pedro and his

 
 

 

224 KATE WEATHERS; OR,

britch tight enough yet,—ain’t that a piece of the barrel
stickin’ in her head ?”

It is difficult to imagine a more horrible sight than the
poor creature presented. Her head was lying ina pool of
blood ; her face and neck were badly gashed and disfigured,
and in her forehead a splinter of the gun-barrel, three or four
inches long, was embedded,—it had pierced deep into the
brain. She breathed but twice, at long intervals, after the
light was brought, and then the light-gray eyes that had been
continually rolling in their sockets and staring vacantly about,

» were still and lustreless, She sighed deeply,—it was her last
breath.

During this whole time Nancy had not stirred from her seat
in the sand, but had only sat there scowling darkly and sul-
lenly, first at one then at another of those who stood around
the mangled woman; occasionally, and as if by accident,
glancing at her; but not once came the faintest gleam of pity
to light her demon face.

“ Come, friends,” said Pierre, “let us remove her from here
and lay her body out straight.”

“Move her? Where to?” asked Stam.

“ Did she not dwell near by ?”

“Yes, whereshe stayed ain’t far off; but [should say it was best

to scratch a hole for her here, and then the trouble will be over.”
“No, Stam,” said Pierre; “such treatment would be un

christian—inhuman, Let us take her to the place where she —

has been dwelling.”

“Well, if that’s it,” said Sol, “the sooner the better. Lift
her a little, Stam, and let me pull her leg from under her. I
guess she must a been kneelin’ on this knee :—that’s it !—
Now, cap’n, if you and daddy’ll take the head eend, Stam and
me will catch a hold o’ the fect. Here goes! O—e—ho!”
And the limber corpse was carried over the ridge and laid out
on the sea-grass bed beneath the shelter. :

Kate brought up the rear with the blazing torch. Great
was the surprise of all upon entering the rude dwelling to
find Pete there. He was sitting flat on the sand and leaning
his back against one of the forks that upheld the roof. He
seemed scarcely to be aware of their presence, but, from his
writhing and moaning, it was evident that he was suffering
intense agonies.

225

SCATTERED BY THE TEMPEST.

’
“ What are you settin’ there for ?” asked Stam ; “and what's
brought all this about? Was you hurt, too ?

Pete only groaned deeply. i
“ Here’s ‘: reed phi stickin’ through and through his

shoulder,” said Kate, in great surprise. ‘ What's done it,
te ” :
Kw “ Pull it

» Don't ask me nothin’ about it,” groaned Pete.
out,
_ Len took the head of the arrow in his grasp, and putting

his bare right foot against the body of the wounded lad, he
pulled with all his strength, apparently unmindful of the
Sroans and contortions of the sufferer, and drew it through
and out. At Pierre’s direction, and by his assistance, the
lad’s dingy shirt was drawn from his body and then taken to
the sound and dipped in the water; it was then bound to the
Wounded shoulder, and the sufferer felt relief. ;
. Now,” said Pierre, “ tell us about this terrible affair. How
did it come about ” :
Pete hesitated, but was finally induced to give an account
of the whole affair from first to last.
“And your unfortunate mother was the woman we heard
Screaming?” Pierre asked.
“No she warn’t, neither,” Pete answered. bare
“Tt warn’t mammy ; I know that well enough,” said Stam.
he wouldn’t take ‘on that way, if she should git sliced up
from head to foot. It warn’t her.”
. “No, it warn’t her neither,” said Pete. “It was somebody
>, that boat. I guess there was a woman in there that that
ortagee and his devils picked up somewheres.”

A Solemn silence followed.
ip my head, cap’n,” said Len, “ that your folks was
1n that boat.”

© reply came. Pierre was not to be seen.

“ Go, Seam, go!” said Kate. “ He’s gone for a boat to fol-
low "em. Go, go, and help him !”

Stam rushed out and was soon lost in the darkness.

“Sol,” said Len, “go git our cunner ready. Put four
OcS in her. We'll catch ’em in her if they’se to be kotch.
Quick, boy, quick! T’ll come as soon as Stam and me gits
up by the cap’n,.”

K

itd

 
 

KATE WEATHERS; OR,

CHAPTER XXIII.
THE LOOKOUT AT NORTH END.

THoven Sol ran with all haste to get ready the canoe, as
his father had directed, yet when he reached it he found two
men already there,—they were Pierre and Stam.

It was evident, from what Stam was saying, that Pierre had
reached the boat first, and that he had drawn in the anchor,
and was pushing it out, upon Stam’s arrival.

“Why, just think of it, man!” said Stam, as he stood out
there, over his knees in the water, holding to the gunwales ;
“what could you do in this cunner and no one to help you?
and nothin’ but a sprit to work her with, at that ? And, then,
s’posin’ you was to go and come up by ’em, what could you do,
single-handed, against ten sich devils? They’d kill you in no
time! Then you'd lose all, sure ‘nough! Sure as you're
born, you ain’t doin’ for the best; and if that’s the way you

lays off to go on, you'll spile everything in short order. Take

things along quieter like, for that’s best. Now, I should say
that if me and you and Len and Sol was to take oars, it
would be better than what you've started to do, by big odds.
This is the quickest boat in smooth water, like it is now, that
can be skeered up. Here comes Sol with oars: that’s sorter
like it. Where’s Len, Sol ?”

“ He’s gone up the beach, lookin’ for the cap'n. Call him,
or no tellin’ where he’ll stop.”

Then Stam stepped up on the high bow, and holding both
hands up to his mouth to take the place of a speaking-trumpet,
he called out, in a stentorian voice, “Len !”

It was not long before a reply was returned from away up
the beach, “ Here !”

Again Stam placed his hands to his mouth and called,
“Come!” Then, addressing Pierre again, he said, “ Don’t
you think our way’s best? You see, we four can shoot this
boat ten mile through the deep water whiles you should be
workin’ her one with nothin’ but that sprit to work with.”

SCATTERED BY THE TEMPEST. 227

“« zs : ed
une i right,” Pierre groaned ; “but, for heaven’s sake,
“Len’ll be here by the time we gits ready,” said Stam,
or the thwarts and rowlocks is got to be fixed for four, the
Mast is to unship, and some of this water must be bailed out.
ou and the cap’n can take the bow oars when we start, Sol ;
me and Len will take the aft.” *
hove was heard the heavy tramp of Len coming down the
ore, and his voice calling out, “Is all right?”

: We are Waitin’ for you,” Stam answered. ue

Wait wait, Stam!” called a female voice; “wait till I
Come,”

‘ What's the matter now, Kate?” asked Stam. “Quick,
eal don t keep us here, for we're losin’ time now.”
withers a passel of wittles I’ve brought for you to take

8 you. You mought need it before you gits back.” :
a received the victuals from Kate's hand and stowed it
sand. the bow. Then the centre-board was pegged up, the
and Map So arranged as to bring the boat on an even keel,
shot en the four oars plashed in the water, and the little boat

If m3 in the darkness channelward. :
the fi age four men had had the light of day to favor them,
tive] e of catching the other boat would have been compara-
diaay an easy one; but they labored under the greatest of

ne Vantages : the thick darkness was around them, and they

W hot which way to shape their course. They felt sure,

\OWever, that i it would
Not risk. those of whom they were in pursu

Roanoke

ay 8 in the direction from whence they came: so they were
towards 1M Coming to the determination to run with all speed
efore Fig Croatan shore,—possibly they might get there

rY¥ige € others could effect a landing and escape.
Pisces imes, as they went on their way, they would ease on
thea ‘ars and listen attentively. But never a sound could be

The dead calm reigned.

they “ Croatan shore was reached : still, not a sound. Then
Sound sy away, and went ploughing rapidly up and down the
to stre cs way and that, until at last the light of day began
®ak the eastern skies: then their boat was skirting the

1 . s
Shore to the northward. They paused at the mouth of a little

«

a landing either anywhere on the coast-reef or on
Island, but it was most probable that they would

 
228 KATE WEATHERS i; OR,

creek, near Croatan Bluff, and looked
dreary waters, but no signs of a boat w
was to be done now? They doubted

around upon the less

not but that they had

at some time during the night,—but

ng vines and thick boughs that arched
over the surface of the waters.

Where should they go to find
the boat, if indeed she were an
shore? Then

cident they should find the boat?

he ten d

The case would, indeed, have be
less determined and in earnest ;

S visible,

en a hopeless one to men

and yet even upon their faces
as they sat there with their oars

and if so be they
rift about without

ere to be seen. What

ywhere concealed on that wild

i 29
SCATTERED BY THE TEMPEST.

ee island

by, and can see us, when they sees be revved 2 3 auiias
they'll think like as anyway that we've give pF thing:
and they'll be throwed off their guard. Then “s boat in the
the island is five mile from here; we can run h this shore all
Sedge around the point and set there and nee and maybe
day (for we can see a long stretch of it from t ast comes on.”
80 we shall see some signs of ’em even before nig a of us can

“Stam’s way is best,” said Sol. ‘“‘ You see a be lookin’
Set over there in the sedge and watch, and a landed there
shout on the island ; for maybe, after all, they
ast night,” a s

= What do you think of it, cap'n? on ee “that I

“T can only say, My generous friends, Sai lead.” ?
Will gladly follow wherever you think best ary oe go.”

“TI guess you're right, Stam,” said Len. landed at “ North

0 less time than an hour the party ne nese e

nd,” and concealed their boat behind the Ng ints sedge

« Now,” said Stam, “ Sol is enough to set here rae eo
and watch ; there’s ten mile of the Croatan — dl he can. do
all he’l] have to do will be to look up and yp eet we know,
that about as well as twenty could. But, a on the
it’s like Sol said, a while ago,—maybe cg 5 $ e shall catch
island, sure *‘nough ; and if so be they di ach is that we
em ‘o-day, if we goes to work right, and my the island we'll
three circle about, and if there’s a stranger on

© apt to find it out.”

wee n

Nl saw the wisdom of the ip. epi eg the three me
Started off, leaving Sol sitting in the se ge.

For Hiaiont Beltane there ay his lonely a Rbeseoag
Passing loveliness and splendor were sprea we ber, when all
It was one of those glorious mornings neon ° Not a riffle
nature seems to be telling of its great -_ The skies were
ues 0 the glassy sound in any direction. auzy tufts and
cloudless, except that here and there were em “4 wpe
tresses of delicate cirrus of snowy whiteness, that s mys
Pictures on the light-blue walls of the great dome. Rare
had just arisen over the bald yellow hills of Sige of
Was flooding his golden light on the visible ~~ ance
wild-fowl were sporting on the shoals, and sa re among the
Continually coming in from their far-away rosie waters.
icebergs of the north, and alighting on the gli 8

 
   

 

 

KATE WEATHERS; OR,

Some of these did nothing but sit and call to those that they
saw hovering over the flood far away to come and partake of
the rich feast ; others were busy diving beneath the surface,
and feeding on the luxuriant meadows beneath the waters.
From southwest far to the northward stretched the curving
shores of Croatan until they reached the Bluff, then they
turned abruptly westward, and dwindled away to Durant’s
Island ; then, as the eye circled still on northwardly, naught
appeared but the broad Albemarle, bounded by skies of blue,
until Powell’s Point, Shellbank Point, Collington Island, and
the long line of coast-reef, ending away to the southeastward
in the golden-hued level of Body’s Island, came in view.

That watchman’s life had been a dreary one, indeed. Amidst
scenes of trouble and turbulence it had its beginning; and never,
though at times the pleasant sunlight gleamed upon it, had it
been freed from the influences of the dark spirits that so often
visited it. Ay, sunlight did at times come. At last the tem-
pest’s raging winds were lulled to sleep ; but still the billows
that the storm had raised continued to heave on high, and
roll and crash and roar until again the tempest came. Bursts
of unrestrained passion and scenes of brutal violence were
familiar to him; and the teachings that he had received were,
that the highest aims and aspirations of life were to gratify
passion and to rule with brute hand.

But now, as he sat and looked out on the beautiful world
before him, a heavenly being that had seldom before been his
companion drew near,—angel Peace whispered to him of God
and heaven.

The current of his thoughts began to glide through chan-
nels that had not been known until that angel came to point
them out. He thought of his own recent acts,—of his assist-
ing, at the risk of his life, to save the ship; he wondered at
the lively interest he was feeling for the afflicted stranger,—
and peace had come to bless him; for those acts were good.
He thought, too, of Ike Drew, and of Jim Beam and Peggy
Strubl, all of whom he had seen to pass into the dark world.
They too had toiled and labored: one endless tempest had been
their life,—darkest and wildest at the close. Ah, how rich the
reward that he was now receiving for good acts,—the smiles of
angel Peace !

Patiently the watchman sat there in the sedge; and faith-

 

  

SCATTERED BY THE TEMPEST. 231
fully he watched until the hour of noon had — ee
Waters had continued sleek and bright until now, an

i e
boat had been seen. But now a breeze came unig SS
Tushes with its light wings; the pine-trees near began

i i the shore
~ Moaning Monotone, and waves came dancing upon ’

Surging and sighing as they came.

y J 2 : he
Sol was looking in the direction of the little creek near t

  

bluff on A :
F the opposite shore, near the mou :

bis party had rested a time at the dawning of that esi
pid there he saw a dark object that seemed to be moving

from shore, Now, as he sat shading his eyes vii eae ae
lands and gazing steadily, a white sail arose, and a o “ eo
headed towards the bluff. There, without doubt, was the

k at
at they had been ursuing, coming out of the very cree
Which they had sob Oh, that Stam and his party would
return now |

the sun was

h of which he and

But hours passed ; and all that Sol could do was to sit there

and watch until that white sail had rounded the _——
Sunk lower and lower in the distance, until at last : > ~~
Feared altogether. Then came Stam and his party ; bu

.
sinking beneath the horizon.

Sol related what he had seen, and described the — —
Y the boat. She had headed westward, hugging the

closely as she went.

“Tm afeered they’ve slipped us,” said Len. “ If we had

i : . her
pore daylight before us we mought sight her yet; for by
huggin’ the land go, I shouldn't wonder if she didn Poa to
carn into the river, But it would be dark long before we

pee git to Durant’s Island now ; and if we should run into
e ri

ver, we couldn’t see nothin’.” : :
“ But the wind is fair,” said Pierre, excitedly ; “ possibly

by the use of both sail and oars we may get there in time.
“No,” said Stam ; “it would be good sailin’ to take me
the west end of Durant’s Island in two hours: but the wind's
rollin’ now, and it'll be dead calm in an hour. For all
enous We can’t do nothin’ better than to push on, and take
© wind as long as it blows.” ; : :
The mast was then stepped, the main-sait and jib 7
and the little boat went bounding on toward the west end
Durant’s Island.

 

 
 
    
   

the sound

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

  
  

 

 

    
 
  
 

 

It is a mound in th
than ten rods on a side,
mound and trench are at t
surrounding lands that the
to notice the existence of

be specially directed toward

and the trench around it six
but Time, the great leveller,

The old fort was erected i
dred and eight English
Walter Raleigh’s ships in the

CHAPTER

shore, between Shallowbag
e form of a hollo

   

 

year

KATE WEATHERS; or,

THE RAGGED PH TLOSOPHER,

Tue “Old Fort”

 

XXIV.

on Roanoke Island is situated not far from

Bay and “ North End.”

W square, measuring less
and surrounded by a trench ; but

his day so near on’a level with the
passing stranger would not be apt

either, unless his attention should
s them.

 
 
   
  
 
 

n the year 1586, by the one hun- —
emigrants who had landed from Sir

before,

 

 

  
  

But there are —
of the one hundred and

    

33
SCATTERED BY THE TEMPEST. 2

s é é ir native land.
eight ever succeeded in getting back to their

Th
th
left

€se assert that there were dissensions and ki wi
© emigrants themselves, and that the greater por" that it was
tthe fort, and were never after heard pee hen Drake
Uta tithe of them that were erg agen. Bis vdition in part,
came. Others again, who accept this latter tradi Pipes ee
Say that those who went out from the fort rier ge island,
-owell’s Point, twelve miles to the ae aghi te ontinued
and there cleared and cultivated the lands; that ray eR
to dwell there in peace and quiet; and that ms " rical fact
Still reside there and in the vicinity. But rer me r 1587
that Drake did visit the island with his fleet in vans a all that
and that he received on board of his mparend d with them
remained, of the one hundred and eight, and saile

ack to Eneland. :

If Stam me 9E and Pierre, on the AER prong
Sol Sitting in the sedge at the North End, os sik tee
in the direction of Croatan for the boat ~— : xh opposite
pursuing the night before, had chosen, when they e = eatkrded
the old fort, to turn aside to the left out of the fe i rowth
Push their way a few hundred yards through the a a with
0 it, they would have seen sitting on the a. eee the

ack leaning against a little oak, and he i to foot in a
ort, an old, gray-haired man, dressed from ng and a pair
= of untanned skins, and wearing seer fe
°F Tudély-made shoes of the same material. re

ong before the dawning of day that a d
Snd seated himself, and leaned his back against. pape eet
Went to sleep. And though it was early at, bat eoclliel
awoke, he changed not his position in the least, bu his head
to sit there with his arms folded upon his a sun arose
bowed, and his eyes bent upon the ground. ae until
and ascended hicher and higher in the quiet blue s i tine
litt] ie aE me slanting and g —e
€ streams of the golden light ea’ ll the time
through the tree-tops upon his queer figure; yet a Paper «
© Continued to sit there, looking down yt _ Or fall his arms
ts and thinking, thinking, thinking. Not once “his bewae
0m their fold on his breast; not once raised he his
ead. e at

The sun had passed meridian. His rays, that had back of

first and fallen like a delicate veil of gold upon the bac
20*
 

 

 

 

       

 

234 KATE WEATHERS; OR,

the old man’s cap, gradually passed up to the top of it, grad-
ually passed over it toward the front, and now they fell in rich
sprays here and there upon the capacious brim. It may be

that they would have continued to slant more and more from _

westward, until the blue eyes beneath the brim should be
reached and illumined to their depths, had there not been a
quick rustle among the bushes near by as of one approaching
through them. This snapped the long chain of thought ; and
the old man’s head was raised in time to see the thick cluster-
ing growth before him part here and there, and a man as old
as himself come through and halt at the distance of a few feet
from him.

The new-comer, who was barefoot, bareheaded, and dressed
in dingy tatters from his ankles to his shoulders, started slightly
when his eyes met those of the old man who sat on the mound,
and for some moments he stood silently returning the silent
inquiries that came. But at last he broke forth in a laugh
that rang and echoed through the still woods.

“ Ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha! Bless my life! I am very,
very, very glad that you have come at last! indeed, I am;
very, very, very glad! I have been coming here regularly
once a day, day after day, ever since Lucifer Grindle told me
of the existence and history of this fort, and showed me the
way in to it. I have known for some time past that you were
coming, and so I have repeatedly told the rude people who
dwell hereabout, but I have discovered from their manner of
late that they are fast losing faith in my prophecy ; nay, I
know that they begin to regard me as a visionary,—] may say
a lunatic! Whenever I have told them of late that your ad-
vent was near at hand they were sure to laugh,—the most
ignorant of them in my face; and some have gone so far as
to call me a fool. But I have been very patient, for I knew
better than they did, and remembering what Epictetus said,—
‘Speak not of your theorems to the unlearned ;’ ‘ Entice not
the man who catinot swim into deep water,'—I adopted a
wiser course than I had befure practised,—namely, to endeavor
continually to add to my store of wisdom, and to speak as

little as possible to others of my gainings. So you see that

even these rude people have taught me wisdom. "It is a poor
school indeed that teaches nothing to the willing inquirer.

Now, I have it in my power to teach them in return; no doubt

     

SCATTERED BY THE TEMPEST. 235

they will be quick enough now to change their minds and
admit that T am a true prophet. : ‘i
I must confess that many a time my patience has been
Fat to a severe test ; so severe, indeed, that upon several occa-
Slons T have been on the very eve of committing suicide (aye,
Slr, of committing suicide, that most unnatural of crimes »
©, at one stroke, of ridding myself of earthly trouble
and vexation, But it has always happened that I failed to
iY the terrible resolution into effect, as you see, and that I
“ve always reconsidered the matter upon second, and I must
Say Wiser, thought.
aa One week ago, I actually hung myself by the neck >
at Very limb that reaches there over your head—hung myself
Y the neck, sir /—and this was the way of it: I came here in
ne yi Iny fits of deepest despondency, and climbed into the
ree, with the full, cool knowledge of what I was doing, got
ptraddle of that limb, fastened the end of the rope that I
along with me to it, made a noose in the other end of the
“ope that Would slip just so far and no farther, passed this
Miteedon ies my head, and found that it was a tolerable fit for
wo neck ; and then I very carefully let myself down until I
= Suspended by the neck ! suspended by the neck, sir!
. Never before had thoughts passed through my mind m4
a ra - Thad not been hanging in this way more than ha’
" tte, when a rabbit, that came leaping through wF
— ®s, Squatted immediately before me, and almost poppe: :
firs &reat eyes out of her head staring up into my face.
b oe imagined that she had come to sympathize with "
ica wt Was not long before my mind changed; and then
Watgined that I could see her mouth pucker up as if she
chest laughing. So furious I became at the thought of being
ew x: by so miserable a little creature as a rabbit agate
lite up my hands over my head, grasped the rope, an
ved myself clear; which done, I kicked at the wretch with
ip “ght foot with all my might. The rabbit was so aston-
pean. “t this sudden movement of mine that she made a back
T those fully three feet high, and immediately vanished.
a then drew into my lengs a good supply of fresh air, and
Mita carefully let myself down. I had been hanging >
th — time, say half a minute, when Josephus came up wit
"© Most Woe-begone expression of countenance that it has
   

 

236

 

KATE WEATHERS; OR,

ever been my misfortune to look upon,—but I must tell you
who Josephus is. :
“Josephus is Lucifer Grindle’s dog. He is a remarkable
animal in appearance and otherwise. His color is a smoky
piebald, and he is lean, lank, hairless, warty, long-bodied, and
crooked-legged ; besides this, he has a very round head, and
an unusually long and bushy tail. His manner of walking 8
different from that of any other dog that I have ever seen,—
it is this: he starts by first stepping out his right forefoot;
this is followed by his right hindfoot ; then his left forefoot)
followed by his left hindfoot ; and so on, as far as he may g0_
every step seeming to be the measurement of an exact distance
This is his usual style of locomotion ; but upon rare occasions —
he gets off into a jog, which may continue while he is going
the distance of five rods, and then he is sure to return to his i
natural gait. (It is natural for Josephus to walk.) His head
and tail are ever drooping, let the gait be what it may, which
gives him a very odd appearance, especially when the crooked
legs are taking him in a jog. No, he never raises his head; _
nor do I believe that anything could induce him to do it.
tried him once, by standing in front of him and putting 9
bone that he knew I intended for him on the top of my head: ~
He rolled his eyes up at it until there were only little streaks
of black on the tops of them, but he didn’t raise his head be
hairbreadth. I verily believe that if I had been a foot taller, _
his eyes would have been as white as snowballs. I hada greab
disgust for the dog from the first, and I let no occasion pass
without giving him to understand, as plainly as I was able,
that I abhorred him; but, in spite of this, he took up so ul j
accountable a fancy for me that, wherever I might turn, be |
was sure to be at my heels; and he would follow me for miles) _
a thing that he was never known to do to another. Howevef
T might go about to avoid him, or whatever might be my plans
to dodge him, I can safely say that I never succeeded once :
Never once, sir! Many a bright morning, when I have felt —
in a meditative humor, I have sneaked out of the back door;
and over the back fence, and roundabout through the wood’ —
to the road, but when at the very height of lofty contempla-
tion, I have happened to glance back, there was sure to be
Josephus within a rod of me, wagging his tail from side t0
side slowly, and looking as if he would give the whole world ©

9

 

SCATTERED BY THE TEMPEST. 237%

12 be able to smile! I have tried to eseape him in other ways.
Knowing

& his great aversion to jogging, I have, many a time,

—— abrupt bends in the path, when I would ree ws
‘n . i i speed ;
but ag Weary and lagging behind, and run on at full speed ;
hevaneed, tired as he might be he would get into a Jog; and,
‘hil i joggi ain after a
While. Walking and jogging, would come up aga
ey as nd ran for three miles
Without. Cl left J osephus fast asleep), a
Safe that

Soon as he would turn the bend and discover how I had

Once T left the house and came to the road by the

Stopping once. I was so sure that time that I vas
Morn} I forgot all about the dog. It was a fair spring
b ning, and I sat down under the branches of a tree an
yean writing poetry. I had written five lines and had my
eae tured up to the blue sky arranging the sixth, when [
eae Startled at hearing a doleful wail near by: suddenly my
wh: topped from the sky and glanced in the direction from
amen’. the wail had come, and there was Josephus! The
affectionate Creature, though jaded by the severe exercise that
taken, could not refrain from expressing his joy at
th & me by the most melancholy howls that could be
ought of.
BY hot I was telling you about hanging myself. As f said,
M : been hanging the second time about half a minute.
ms ead was pushed to one side by the knot in the noose ij
Pid tongue was hanging several inches out of my mouth, we
ia ‘Yes were protruding fearfully, when Josephus came ma
he on his haunches within a yard of my toes; then a
a) ot "p the most diabolical howl that my ears ever listene
then am inclined now to believe that my sense of ae
to b Was more than ordinarily acute ; for the sounds oe
the rhe loud and sharp as the noise that would be ma . ry
Setnioe king at the same instant of forty brass pans with for y
my h ‘mmers. Never before had such savage anger rye
beck cart! Weak as I was, I raised my right hand, an
eye, oned him away; but he only rolled his solemn, leaden
The # ae tay face, and howled louder if possible than at first.
Stren “Tl0us passion that raged in my bosom gave me <=
di SP - I reached up again for the rope, raised vy wer
the esa : ‘lipped the noose over my head, and fell ner y -
eager] ndin a state of semi-unconsciousness. Josephus
oy Watching my every movement, and when he saw me
238 KATE WEATHERS; OR,

fall he set up such a devilish wailing that I fainted outright
before he got through with it. I am sure now that that last
howl was an expression of his great joy at my deliverance, fot
when I came-to the poor creature was sitting at my heat
licking my face. But he no sooner saw my eyes open thal
he arose and waddled away to the distance of twenty feet of
so, and again sat down and howled. So indignant was I at
the whole proceeding that I determined to climb the tree.
again, and to spring this time from the limb, and so break my
neck at once. But, after repeated efforts, I found that I was”
too weak to climb; so I laid myself down at the root of thé

tree, and slept for two long hours. i

“T awoke in a better frame of mind ; and, instead of hang’
ing myself again, I concluded that I would return home t@
dinner, for I had become quite hungry. Poor old Josephus!
I shall respect and love him as long as I live for the good
service he did me; for I am now here alive, and a joyous
witness of your coming, sir ! Ha, ha, ha, ha, ha! Dear doc
tor! I am very, very,.very, very glad! Ha, ha, ha, ha, ha!

“ Sir,” said the old man, who had all the time continued (0
sit upon the mound listening in astonishment to the strange
harangue, “ you are, without doubt, mistaken as to who I al
I am no doctor, but a poor. He

“TI know,—I know very well!” said the other. « Really:
doctor, you are very modest. But I am not surprised at thab
for a truly great man is sure to be modest, Modesty, if I
may so speak, is one of the cardinal elements of greatness j
therefore, the man that lacks it is not great. Bless me, how
glad, how rejoiced I am at your coming! I shall never ceas
to love Josephus, and henceforth I intend to share my break ‘
fast, dinner, and supper with him !” i

“ Indeed, sir,” persisted the old man, as he pushed up his
cap-brim, so as to expose his whole face to view, and arose 1
his feet. “You are mistaken! I tell you I am not the per
son that you seem to think I am, but only a poor, unfortunal
castaway, that e ‘ i

“ Exactly !” interrupted the other, smiling strangely as he
spoke; “exactly, doctor! I understand ! Ay, indeed, for I

too, am a poor, unfortunate castaway! But please do me thé
honor, great man, to confide in me! TI assure you, you shall
have no cause for regret. I, sir, am the philosopher Socrate’

Junior!

SCATTERED BY THE TEMPEST. 239

Though far from being presumptuous enough to set
a self up as your equal, yet T hambly pray that you —
do me the honor to recognize me as your admiring pupil, an
We, allow my name to be on the list of your humble servants.
© are equally unfortunate in one respect,—that is, in —-
been born ages ahead of our time. I say wnfortunate, for
honestly believe that it is as great a disadvantage to be born
thead of, as Lehind the age. You were born centuries before
your time. I, ages before mine. We are both great sufferers
Y it. A man ahead of his age is set down in the list of
\'slonaries ; the finger of contempt is pointed at him by every
dolt that hie theatss. iid ovenerabeian laugh and yell as they
tp before him, and ask him to build them a grand castle in
the air, He is regarded as a lunatic, when in reality he may
= hundreds of years in advance of the poor fools who gibe at
him, and imagine themselves to be far wiser than he is,—
‘imply because they have not the capacity to understand what
he advances,

“ Now what do you imagine Augustus Czesar—learned and
Polite-as he was—would have thought of Galileo and Newton, if
they had lived in his age and attempted to teach their philosophy
a nite? imagine he would have sat and listened patiently
and Tespectfully to one lecture from each of them; then, im-
Mediately after they had got through, he would have called
an officer to take them out and crucify them, without another
been Of course he would! No doubt in the world of it!
H Then go back to the infancy of poesy. Was poor old

omer appreciated while he lived? I should say that his case
Was about like this: He was a decrepit old man, stone blind,
Poor, ragged, very probably filthy in appearance (filthy from
Penn al course). He eked out a miserable existence,
Walking around the country, led by a little dog, and very prob-
ably himself leading amonkey. Wherever the sensible little dog
ae two or more individuals gathered together, thither he leads
omy Willing old man, and thither the old man leads the monkey.
i ow I shall not raise the question at this time whether that
‘ttle dog is acting from a sense of duty to his poor old master,
oF because experience has taught him that he will be pretty
th bee get a bone by going. We will say that the dog’s
ta tives are purely selfish,—that is to say, he goes expecting
© Set a bone for himself. Well, the trio go up to the waiting

 
 

 

 

 

240 KATE WEATHERS; OR,

group; the dog sits upon his haunches and looks up into the”
people’s faces, pleading all the time as eloquently as eyes call
plead fora bone. If this manner of pleading fails, he begin’ —

whining and wagging his tail until he makes himself under

stood: then a bone is brought and is tossed to him: he catches

it in his mouth, then eases himself down on his belly and fore
knees, turns his head sideways, with one eye toward the ground

the other toward the sky,—both eyes being half closed now,
—and goes vigorously at his gnawing. The monkey (who

would like also to have his breakfast) approaches near to the
dog, and mikes a great many comical grimaces. The dog

observing this, and having his own suspicions, ceases an instant —
to gnaw, opens wide his eyes, and casts fierce glances at the —
_ mnonkey, grinning horribly as he does so. The monkey, that —

has upon several occasions before, and under exactly similar

circumstances, been severely bitten by that same dog, leaps
away back, to the very extent of his chain, and then tries his —
best to look precisely like the devil,—in the vain hope that by —

so doing he may frighten the dog, and cause him to drop his
bone and shrink away; but so far from that, the dog gnaws
with twice the energy and earnestness ‘that he did before;

seeming utterly to have forgotten that there ever existed if

the world such a thing as a monkey.

“ During this whole time the sad-faced old man is rolling”
his sightless eyes about in every direction, except toward the |
strings over which his nimble fingers are dancing, and the |

people are almost cracking their sides laughing at the antics
of the monkey and the little dog. The old man is singing one

of the sweet songs of his own composition, and has almost got i
to the end of it before the people are aware that he has evel

commenced. And when at last they turn from the monkey;
they see that tears are trickling from those sightless eyes down
the grizzly beard. Some one of the group, then, supposing
that the old man is weeping because he is hungry, goes an

gets for him some bread and milk. He takes and eats it j
Then the trio pass on in search of another group, while those —
who are left behind laugh heartily, and tell one another of —

this and that funny caper of the dog and monkey.

“After a few years the old man is missed; he ceases t0 —

make his periodical round, and inquiries are made, for the

people wish to see the monkey again. But the poor old poeb —

SCATTERED BY THE TEMPEST. 241

died a year ago, and was buried no one knows where; rumor
1D 8 he was buried by one who took the dog and monkey for

S Pains, . . . “Five hundred years rolled away; then
2r0se the anxious inquiry, Where is Homer? Ah! who can
tell where that man is who was born five hundred years before

“ee time ? Homer lived; he is dead: the sweet music that
“ <.ug is still heard,—but where, where is the singer?
Now, Doctor Skyelake, let us look at your case. The
he Suffered you to pass through life and die without taking
© trouble to inquire who you were; and yet, in my estima-

ae (Tam not a flatterer, sir), you were the greatest man,
td, odds, that ever lived in it. Again, look at me! I some-
— Sit down beside J osephus and imagine that my case and
“mer’s are much the same. How? We were born before
Cur time |
“Allow me to assure you, my dear sir, that no man has
a been so welcome to this island as you are! In the name
m every dweller upon it, I welcome you and offer you its hos-
Paclities | My abiding-place is not far distant from here. I
nmbly crave the honor of your presence at it. Lucifer
witdle and his wife, Comfort, are among the very best and
dest people that I have ever met. I dwell with them.
fal. are, it is true, rude and ignorant ; but they are a peace-
ant {uiet, contented old couple, that enjoy life with as pleas-
Ei. * relish as the richest. Come, go with me to their house.
How they will welcome you with open arms; and, besides,
“annot consent to be separated from you a single day during
aoe Stay here. Yes, doctor; you will find that Lucifer and
Te Will gladly divide their last morsel with you. —
leave —e the kind of people that go to heaven when they
uring this stran harangue, the old man of the bear-skin
cap made twenty connate speak, but Socrates’ words
ee forth in one unbroken stream, and the whole twenty
80 ; Pts amounted to no more than the snap of one’s finger ;
a at last he pulled the brim of his cap down over his forehead
S22, crossed his arms on his breast, and waited patiently.
ais oats at last ceased speaking and took three steps in the
im, 108 of the main path, looking back at the old man all the
0 © with an expression on his face that said, Come, let us
. 2 W to Lucifer Grindle’s. But when he saw no signs of
21

 
 

 

 

 

 

 

242 KATE WEATHERS; OR,

his coming, he wheeled around and halted. “ Venerated, —
respected, and profound sir!” he said, humbly bowing, « will

you deign to go with me to the
Lucifer and Comfort Grindle ?”

“ My friend,” said the old man, “T have made twenty sey-

house of my esteemed friends,

eral attempts to speak, but could not be heard. I have no ~

objection to go with you,—nay, I would be pleased to do so;
but I must disabuse your mind. I repeat then, positively, L

am not the person you take me to be; Iam no Doctor Skye —
lake! Look straight at me and you will discover your mis- —

take.”

“Mistake!” said Socrates. “Is the sun shining, doe
tor?”

“ Yes,” the old man replied; “the sun is shining, and you —

are mistaken.”

“Excuse me!” said Socrates, profoundly bowing. “If I

am mistaken, then the sun is not shining ; if the sun is shin-
ing, then I am not mistaken. Excuse me, respected sir! I

would not speak so positively if I were not absolutely certain
that my assertion is correct.”

So puzzled was the old man now that for some monients he —

knew not what to say. Finally he asked, “ Will you be kind
enough to tell me who this Doctor Skyelake is? For I pledge

you my word as an honest man I never even so much as heard _
the name of Skyelake before since I have been a living —

being !”

Socrates stared into the old man’s face. If eyes have 4 —
language his had a great deal to say on that occasion. First, —

they exclaimed, Great man, do ‘you take me to be a fool?

Then they said, Wait, wait: there may be something about —

; for great men —
R enough. Wait, and let me —

It is remarkable, Doctor Skyelake, that you should

have forgotten who you are! A new idea then popped into —
the mind of Socrates, and his first utterance thereafter was
a loud and protracted laugh. When that had ended, he

said,—

it, it is reasonable enough and natural enough that a man who
has been dead and buried for upwards of two hundred year

should forget—yes, even his own name. Doctor Skyelake, sit

“Excuse me—excuse me, my dear sir! (Come to think of —

SCATTERED BY THE TEMPEST. 243

— You are that individual), was a profound scientist and
ese of the sixteenth century. He was English by birth,
Philiy “zen of the round world. You may recollect that
to ae. Amidas and Arthur Barlow, in the year 1585, brought
(no my island a colony of one hundred and eight persons
and Fg believes the fable that Ralph Lane brought them
Seve anded them at Shallowbag Bay). One hundred and
depnt va! these emigrants brought with them the most extray-
a soli ’*Pectations, They had no doubt but that America was

ead block of gold, or at any rate so thick as to make it a

“ne to bore down a mile and a half before striking the

take Wes. One of that colony was too wise a man to
One w. why Notion 80 ridiculous. That one was yourself. That
came solel pintimate friend of both Amidas and Barlow; he
Polely for the purpose of making scientific investigation.

ia4 :
and vi — discoveries of Christopher Columbus and others,

i the time I am speaking of 1585), the scientific
ofa Eur ope had been nearly nnd upon the subject
had — 8 motions. The whole world (if I may so speak )
bod ae driven into the belief that this earth is a rotund
Seite: ut still, many doubted of the diurnal and annual
from gs The Majority contended that these revolutions,
the © Very nature of things, were beyond question, as even

pe ignorant ought to be able to see and understand.
dling go mority asked the majority a great number of puz-
© Westions ; among others, ‘ How is it with the sun, moon,

and Ste . .
their “od What are you going to do with them? Surely

i : . 7
Then © Passing over, and setting is not merely apparent ?

With sae 4 the yearly motion, they asked, ‘Who shall say,
the nit Sow of reason, that the ecliptic is not the path of
is awa ‘stead of the earth ?—for certainly the sun at one time
Yonder yonder, South of the equator, and at another, away
Acrogg a of it. Does not the sun move back and forth
Sun jg, “duator ?” Again, the majority contended that the

nearest the earth in winter. This appeared so ridicu-

party to arise (weak in

strong in intellect), who stood between

rity; these agreed to some extent with
to some extent differed from both of

 
    

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

244 KATE WEATHERS; OR,

them. They admitted that the earth revolved upon its axis
daily ; that at certain seasons the sun was above the equator,
and at other times he was below it; and yet they were far
from admitting that this earth is a perfect sphere, or anything
approaching it. Nor did they admit the correctness of the
theory of the centripetal and centrifugal forces; nor would
they by any means admit that the earth was continually cir-
cling around the sun. They held that the earth is not a
sphere, for, that if it were, the south pole would point con-
tinually to the sun, upon the centripetal and centrifugal
theory. Why? Is there not more land north of. the equator
than south of it? Is not land heavier than water? Is not
then the northern hemisphere heavier than the southern ?
Would not the repelling (centrifugal) force acting upon a body
so unevenly weighted throw the heavy end outward ? and would
not that keep the south pole toward the sun, and the north
pole away from it? What (this middle party asked) would be
the working of a balance-wheel one-half the circumference of
which should weigh five hundred pounds, and the other half
four hundred ?

“Now Doctor Skyelake was the great front leader of this
middle class of philosophers, and his visit to America with
Amidas and Barlow was, as has been said, to make scientific
investigations,—principally, investigations that might settle
these matters of dispute.

“ His first work was to weigh the Western Hemisphere.
This he did successfully. He had previously weighed the
Eastern. Upon comparing the weights, he found that the
Western was seventeen ounces avoirdupois the lighter. But
even the seventeen ounces he had no doubt came from errors
in calculation ; indeed, so well satisfied he was of this, that he
announced to the world the astounding fact that the two hemi-
spheres were exactly poised, and it was only to his most inti-
mate friends that he made any mention of the matter of the
Seventeen ounces.

“This was in exact accordance with Doctor Skyelake’s
Pear TueEory, which is this:

“The earth that we inhabit is pear-shaped, not spherical,—
the grandest, simplest theory ever promulged! and yet it is
but the announcement of a self-evident truth. Sir, I never
think of the originator of that glorious theory, the founder of

 

4

-
u

 

SCATTERED BY THE TEMPEST. 245

i der
that grand school of philosophy, but that I am lost in wonder,
astonished at the profundity of that noble specimen of the

enus homo—Doctor Skyelake !

r “'The earth, said shat grehh man, is of the shape of a ie
feet pear, or of an inflated balloon. But that is by no —
all :—this great pear is made up of smaller ones; # x em
of pears in the shape of a pear! Imagine es Met wr
map of the world spread out before us: look! W : is ;
Shape of North America?—a pear. What is the s sme
South America?—a pear. What is the shape of op tee =
a pear. What are Greenland? Arabia? Norway and Swe .
Hindostan? Florida? Lower California? Kamtchatka? mA
matra? They are pears! How are they hanging in =
great bunch ?—with their stems to the south and their is
ends to the north! Wonderful! wonderful! And this _
is a pear, composed of pears whose stems are to the sou

That this earth is a pear there can be no doubt !—none !

“T have said that the school of Doctor Skyelake admitted
the diurnal revolution: it admitted also that that trey
caused by certain forces acting upon the earth. Certainly : -
how could there be motion without : force? Yet = . .
rejected the centripetal and centrifugal theory. 0 z ae

hy? Because such a theory is nonsense! It may . :
the sciolist who goes skimming over the surface of things; bu
true philosophy reaches away down under the surface. ss

“ake a strip of sheet-tin, bend it around spirally, =
make of it a figure to resemble the shape of a pear; Lapa
little hole in the exact centre of the upper (larger) end 0 pe
figure, put a string through the hole and secure 1t or, :
the string be, say, six feet long; tie the other end of * oa
rod, take it to a stream of clear water, and let the tin down
into the water the full length of the line; then na yee
Sradually to the surface. The tin, as 1t 1s raised, will w -
in the direction of the bend of the strip fast or slow, pps
ing upon the force exerted to raise it. Now hang a —
beneath the tin figure and raise it through the water as belore :
still it will revolve, but less rapidly, unless greater force 1s po
erted to raise it. Now, two forces act upon the earth in - f
same manner, one tending to raise it, the other to _
down, but the raising force is greatest. What are t

forces? What produces them? There can be no answer
21*

 
     

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

246 KATE WEATHERS; OR,

until science may see fit to speak. We only know that such
forces exist.

“ But, asks the skeptic, what will you say about the circuit
of the earth,—its orbit? Only that there is no such thing!
The earth has no orbit; it is forever ascending; the sun,
moon, and stars are ascending also,—the earth steadily and at
the same rate of speed forever, while the sun, moon, and stars
go pulsing up. During one-half the year they rise at a com-
paratively slow rate, and during the other half they shoot up
with wonderful speed to a height far above the earth; then at
a certain height their speed decreases, so that the earth not
only comes up even with them, but continues to a great height
above them. And so they are forever rising and forever keep-
ing company. Now, Mr. Skeptic, what is further to be said
about circuit, and orbit, and ecliptic? Are they not accounted
. for? But is it so wonderful that the world should be flying
up instead of around? Everything that is great, or grand,

or noble is eternally tending upward. Science, art, mind, in--

tellect, all are advancing, progressing, rising,—revolving, it is
true, but rising. Grand, beautiful, glorious theory, Doctor
Skyelake !—grand, indeed !’’

The old man whom Socrates persisted in addressing as Doctor
Skyelake had again seated himself on the mound before this
lengthiest of all the harangues was half finished. There he
sat with folded arms as before, and leaning back against the
tree, now staring in great astonishment into the earnest speaker's
face.

“Yes, great and noble philosopher,” Socrates again began,
“to you the world is indebted for the grand Prar Tuxory !
Sir! again I welcome you to this island; aye, verily I welcome
you to this very spot where the great truth was fully revealed
to you; for it was here, within this little square of ten rods,
that you wrote out that famous theory that caused the heart
of the world to thrill and throb for joy !”

“ Really, sir,” said Doctor Skyelake, “I had forgotten it all.”

“No wonder, no wonder!” said Socrates; “for it was up-
wards of two hundred years ago that you were buried beneath
the very spot upon which you now sit.”

“ Buried?” said Doctor Skyelake; ‘IT had forgotten that too.”

“No wonder, no wonder!” said Socrates; “much may be
forgotten in two centuries !”

 

——e

 

SCATTERED BY THE TEMPES T. 247

“Will you be so kind as to give me an account of ay, on
and burial, sir? I have no doubt you are fully in
about it.”

“With great pleasure,” Socrates answered. +6 era ea
and the other emigrants had quarrelled with the savage ea
fort was constructed; and you with the others we. pe
Where you could safely act. upon the defensive. e a" .
chief of the savages (Chickimicomocachie by name) BS, bn
his deity (a red-headed snake) that he would take ee i r (! os
the savages feared you more than the whole one oa rae -
Seven), and the treacherous villain did slay you be pirate
rested. It was midnight; you were sitting where ye ps ‘
looking up at the moon, and busily engaged — af go wid
quantity of heat that comes to earth with its Fy byl
hour, when the wretch crept up behind you and laid open you

Stone-axe, and then ran away. When those in the Pe ane
on the next morning and discovered what had bags on : °y
Wept during two whole days and nights, and then “ Sb
That occurred in the autumn of 1586. I suppose the
affair has passed from your mind?”

“ As entirely,” Doctor Skyelake answere

Never been there.” :
i : if memo
“ No wonder,” said Socrates, “no wonder ; for, ry

dwells in the brain (and I suppose it does), the Lena =
by the great stone-axe of Chickimicomocachie, that on
Your brain, divided also your memory ; and a memory pr 34
piecemeal would be, I should say, but little better
hem ”

‘t ak say, sir,” said Doctor Skyelake, ee re oe
Not only an intelligent and learned man, but that you
remarkable recollection of things.

dbow. “I have
Socrates stepped back and made a profoun bs
a fair memory,” he said; “ and, as for learning and intelligence,

iri i for I hope I
T can t desiring to be vain or boastful, f
have Fo also) that I have written forty-nine books on

different subjects, each book averaging about t

pages, say fifteen thousand pages in all.” He then made an-

other profound bow and stood, holding his hands behind him,

respectfully silent. i
eTndeed ig secialonal Doctor Skyelake. “ Forty-nine books,

d, “as if it had

 
     

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

248 KATE WEATHERS; OR,

averaging more than three hundred pages! What an immense
work for one mind! Will you be so kind as to name some of
the subjects ?—philosophical, generally, I should suppose ?”

“ Altogether so,” said Socrates, again bowing. ‘“ Nineteen
are explanatory of your Pear Theory, sir; seven upon the char-
acter, properties, accidents, effects, and uses of yon brilliant
lamp that hangs from the ceiling of the great rotunda, pouring
its effulgent floods abroad and rendering glorious the visible
Cosmos. But, bless me! the sun has set, and shades are be-
ginning to gather around us. Come, my dear doctor, let us
go now, and more of what we were speaking at another time.”

CHAPTER XXV.
A SOCIABLE TIME AT LUCIFER’S HOUSE.

Docror SkYELAKE made no answer; and instead of ‘arising
from his seat and starting off toward the house of Lucifer and
Comfort Grindle, he only crossed his legs, pulled the brim of
his cap farther down over his eyes, and hung his head lower,
deeply meditating.

“ Come, come, profound sir!” said the impetuous Socrates ;
“let us be going. You see it is growing dark under these
trees already. Let us go on and reach the house before night.”

Saying these words, he grasped the old man’s coat-sleeve
firmly at the left elbow and gently drew him up and on after
him. Doctor Skyelake went on through the bushes toward
the main path, half involuntarily as it were ; for, though he in
no manner resisted or hung stubbornly back, yet he went as
one who was by no means acting for himself,—as one who sub-
mitted to be led along by another without at the same time

permitting the chain of his own deep thoughts to be broken
by anything that might be taking place.

°
“There,” said Socrates, after they had been on the way ten
minutes, “we are now in the path, and there are no more
thick bushes to push through. Lucifer’s house is now about
a half-mile distant ; and we shall yet reach it before night, for
you see it is already much lighter since we have got out from

 

SCATTERED BY THE TEMPEST. 249

under the trees. No doubt, doctor, this name Tncifer ree
Strangely in your ears, as it did in mine at first, and ge.
imagine that the man was so named from a suppose Aone!
blance, either in personal appearance or character, to the it.
inal Lucirer; but not so, for he is as plain, blunt, NSC
generous a fellow as you ever saw, and one that in bro yrs a
resembles that artful, sneaking hypocrite who inha r hate
fernal regions. His wife Comfort, too, is a kind, goo al he
who wishes harm to no one. I am very sure that you pass
pleased with both of them when you come to find ae a
ous and unassuming they are. Rude and ores gee
they be, they are the only people upon this whole me 7 pier}
appreciate or at all understand me. I have — . y zt
them about you,—who you were, when you lived, w . fe
that murdered you, and when your sad death Porc ce
times, too, I have attempted to give them an psig - ian 3 “A
the Pear Theory; but I am sorry to say they do re Ker?
feel any interest whatever in that noble subject, ws orks.
invariably go to sleep before I have talked to _—_ ve a ree
upon it. I have told them that you would is pene
your grave, and that I should have the a 0 Le» shar T
them to you, and they have not doubted a single wor Ronni
have told them. Oh, venerated philosopher, you can id 8
idea of the joy that your coming at this opportune og en
me! But yonder is the house: pe see | Lucifer and hi

are sitting in the door, smoking their pipes. ‘

Doctor. Skyelake lifted his cap-brim, raised his yo. _
the ground, and looked out before him for the very firs wae
Since he had left the fort. All along Socrates ag pee ress
ing him by the elbow; and all along he. had eye ‘ sg y oe
foundly meditating,—turning over in his mind t ee a paar
thing, ‘and trying to determine the best course for ~ an
Sue under the circumstances. No doubt but —_ S te
Some insane person who had been wrecked at some wr f hr
by chance had strayed over on the island; and yet it mig tin
that to follow an insane man, as he was doing, would aad ibe
good ; at any rate it was not probable that — pers?
made worse than they already were with him, for da wie
Was an utter stranger there, the night before being 4 e P 4
first time that he had ever set foot on Roanoke Island.

sibly this accidental stumbling upon a lunatic was the very
L*

 
  

 

  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
  
 
 
 
  
 
 
 
 
  
   
 
 
 
 
  
 
 
  

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

  

250

 

KATE WEATHERS; OR,

best thing that could have happened for him: it might assist
him in carrying out his own plans,—he truly hoped it would.
But were there really such persons living on the island as
Lucifer Grindle and his wife Comfort Grindle? If there
were, were they the kind, generous people that Socrates repre-
sented them to be? It might be so, but it would not be wise
to rely too implicitly upon the word of a lunatic. That lunatic,
it might be, was leading him on and on, limself knew not
whither. But, let it be as it might, he would go on, for he
knew of nothing better to do than to follow his strange com-
panion and ascertain the truth of the matter for himself. If
it should turn out that what he had said about Lucifer and
Comfort was true, it might be well to fall in with his conceits
and agree with him in everything, and act as if he were indeed
the great philosopher Doctor Skyelake, as it was insisted he
should be, and let his memory be refreshed by Socrates of
"the occurrences of the very distant past ; for that strange man’s
imagination and voluble tongue, together with the fact that he
himself was a practised ventriloquist, would enable him, in all
probability, to carry on the deception successfully ; and possibly
that deception might be applied to excellent uses.

“ Do you not see them?” said Socrates, pointing towards the
door.

“Indeed I do!” said Doctor Skyelake, in the manner and
tone of happy surprise. “Well, well! How well I remember
their great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-grand-
fathers and grandmothers! Well, well, well, well, well! And
what a striking resemblance to the old people !”

“So you are coming to your recollection !” said Socrates,
delightedly, at the same time bounding a foot and a half up
into the air for joy. “ And you recollect their ancestors ? Ha,
ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha! Oh, bless me! And you are
coming to your recollection !”

Both Lucifer and his wife took their pipes from their mouths
and held them in their right hands, and looked up when they
heard Socrates's hearty laugh.

“ Hanged, Comfort,” said Lucifer, “if he ain't got the old
feller along, sure ’nough! Did you ever see sich a beard ?
He can stuff the eends of it in his britches pockets !’’

“And what long white hair hangin’ over his shoulders!
And what comical clo’s he’s got on!” said Comfort. Lucifer,

  

SCATTERED BY THE TEMPEST. 251

T'm afeerd 0’ dead folks; allus was! I’m goin’ round to the
back side o’ the house a spell.” ;

“That'll make it wuss for you, if he means harm,” said
Lucifer, with a shudder. “I guess maybe Socrates can man-
age him !” :

“ Lucifer,” said Socrates, whose face was pictured all over
With joyous smiles, “can you tell me who this is that comes
with me? Hear his reply, Doctor Skyelake. d i.

“T know, if he don’t,” said Comfort; “it’s Doctor Skye-
lake,—him that the Injun killed.”

“That’s it!” said Lucifer. : 9”

“ Exactly!” said Socrates. “ Did you observe, doctor?”

“ That’s just who it is!” said a voice that seemed to be rising
Up from under the ground.

“O Lord!” exclaimed Comfort, as she arose and started ee}
towards the rear of the house. “I oa to fetch 4 a par
0’ water, and I must go git it before night comes on !

“Wait!” said Lucifer, as he started off after his wife. “I'll
&0 help you!”

i The fact is, they only wanted an excuse to run back and
lide in the woods. : ;

“ Come back, both of you, and sit down in that door again,
for nothing shall hurt you!”’ said the underground voice. e

They both returned with some precipitation, and - e
themselves as they had been; then they looked up in —
at the old man: Comfort, through eyes no larger than b ri
eyed peas, and Lucifer through great round eyes that protru

ike a buck’s. : ee

“ Come into the house, venerated philosopher, said Socra me
With a bow and smile. “ You see, Lucifer,” he an
have been telling you that this great man would come. *
and Comfort alone of all the islanders believed me: here he
ds my j

“Do you ever eat 2” asked Comfort, in a tremulous voice;
“if ont dom, there’s bread and taters and fish and meat a her
0 there on the table, and honey in the bowl: take hold an

telp yourself.”

. “I never refuse to eat,” answered Doctor Skyelake (who

indeed was very hungry), “when by so doing I can give

Pleasure to kind friends.” ain
This was said in so gentle and pleasant a manner

 
  

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

    

252 KATE WEATHERS; OR,

 

Comfort smiled, and her eyes opened to their natural size.
Lucifer also took heart, and his eyes settled down to a natural
state; indeed, so great was his relief that he seated himself on
a stool in the corner of the chimney, raked his pipe in the
hot ashes, and went to smoking again.

“ Hat, eat, dear sir,” said Socrates; “we are all friends
here |” ‘

Doctor Skyelake, without waiting for further invitation,
seated himself at the little pine-board table that sat on the
floor, with his face toward tlie fireplace, and began to eat very
heartily ; while Socrates (who knew what good breeding was)
stepped to the rear of the great man and stood leaning against
the door-post, smiling happily all the time. Comfort also stood
behind the doctor; but she, never having had the advantages
of instruction in the polite proprieties, did nothing but stoop

forward looking over his shoulders, greatly wondering at the.

hearty manner spirits have of eating fish and potatoes. Luci-
fer, whose seat was in front of the guest, did nothing but puff
away at his pipe and gaze into the strange face, utterly forgetful
of the existence of everything and every person in the world
except Doctor Skyelake.

Lucifer’s temperament was by no means nervous, and yet
he could not now for his life keep his thoughts within their
proper bounds; for no sooner had the singular being before
him begun to eat than they broke loose and went scampering
here and there and everywhere in the wildest manner: there
was no use trying to hold them in, so he only sat puffing his
pipe three times as rapidly as usual, and let them scamper.

Not a word had been said, until Lucifer (who had, as has
been said, forgotten everything) addressed himself to the
resurrected philosopher in this blunt manner: “ Where has
you been all this long time ?”

There was a curiously shaped potato in the pan that sat on
the table before the doctor; it had four prongs somewhat
resembling the feet and arms of a person, and a little knob on
top, that any one of quick imagination would have said without
hesitation was exactly like a man’s head, eyes, nose, mouth,
and all. The doctor was looking down into the pan, and this

singular shaped potato answered the question that Lucifer
asked :

“Tn my skin!”

 

253

“ Lucifer! Lucifer!” said Socrates, reproachfully. =
must not ask questions of this great man 1n So blun : ps
ner. Be more respectful, friend, in both manner an yea
Do you know that the individual whom you address so -
iliarly has the power, if he should choose to exert it, to —
us all away in a whirlwind as quick as you can pre bt
fingers? You have been properly and truthfully —_ . 3
but ask no more such ridiculous questions, or he may : ps
very least fly away and leave us, which I should regard a
Very sad misfortune.”

ceas Lucifer raked his pipe in the ashes and bongs
stem to his lips, but all the time continuing to stare wily

into the stranger's face. :
mee ina
“Think there’s any harm in him?” asked Comfort,

low whisper, of Socrates. :

The old man, who, from the time he took ee - ws
table, had been looking down, eating fish after fis << ss
after potato, and apparently paying no pring 22 aiied
anything that was going on around him, turne pat Aa
to the man-potato; and it a Comfort’s questio
Socrates could even open his mouth.

“No, no, no! Not the least bit of ee more than
there is in me,—so long as you keep right.

“ Make yourself perfectly easy, Comfort, said geri
“ Doctor Skyelake is a great and good man,—a wise P
pher, whose object is to do good, not harm. .

But, with all these assurances, Comfort could fai pe co
feel uneasily at being in the presence of one W - pions
had no doubt had been dead for more than two — ee Laan

Her eyes again contracted as she turned and at ph esoes

lessly away (noiselessly, for she was barefooted) to vs eget”

other end of the room, and then beckoned Socray

to her. :
Socrates obeyed the summons and stepped quietly over to

ets ithi inch of
her side, and brought down his right ear to within an

her mouth to receive the question that had already got 1ts

head out of her partly-opened lips.

“Does he know what folks is thinkin’ about ?” she asked, in

. + r
So low a whisper that even that near right ear of the listene

Scarcely heard it.” fore
“ Everything ! everything !’ the potato answered, befo

SCATTERED BY THE TEMPEST.

22

   

|
t
:
)
;

 

enn ep or rie cern

cho 5 rane ar

|

enna er enaemaman te TE

-

  
  
 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

    

254 KATE WEATHERS; OR,

 

Socrates had got his mouth nearer than within three inches
of the woman’s upraised ear.

So startled was Comfort, that she had turned and made
three rapid but very soft steps towards the door, with the full
intention now of rushing out and into the dark woods, before
Socrates (who well knew her intention) succeeded in grasping
one of her arms, and holding her back by main force. But
even Socrates himself was now alarmed, and the instant he
succeeded in bringing Comfort to a halt, he raised himself on
tiptoe (still holding the woman by a firm grasp), and looked
over the old man’s shoulder, with an expression of profound
wonder upon his face, at the man-potato in the pan.

Lucifer, ordinarily very slow and deliberate in his move-
ments, had bounded to his feet the instant the words “ every-
thing, everything!’ were said,—he had been paying no
attention at all to the actions of his wife and Socrates, nor
had he heard a word that she had whispered,—and stooping
considerably forward, not only his head but his whole body,
he did nothing but peer and gaze, first into the old man’s
solemn face, then at the man-potato, and then again into the
solemn face. But Doctor Skyelake only sat there eating fish
and potatoes in the most innocent and unconcerned manner,
not even once raising his eyes during the whole time.

“ Everything what?” at last Lucifer asked, looking as he
spoke, it is true, at the old man, but pointing in a downward
curve with his bent forefinger at the man-potato.

“Sir?” asked Doctor Skyelake, for the first time look-
ing up.

That single word was spoken in such a thunder-bass as
utterly to deprive the questioner of the further power of
speech. He only stood there a moment in silence, still staring;
then he resumed his seat, and puffed his pipe from twenty to
thirty times as rapidly as he could open and close his lips ; nor
did he ever reply to the question that had been asked in that
single word, or even repeat his own. But Dr. Skyelake, without
waiting five seconds for an answer, again turned his eyes down
upon the victuals before him, and went to eating as if he had
forgotten all about the matter, nor did he look up once again
until he had finished his supper ; then he raised his head and
looked around from one to another of the silent and astonished
three, smiling most benevolently as he did so, and said,—

 

fort, and Socrates.

Was excellent. Come now, and let ould not
the chimney and have a sociable. I am sure we ©

pass the time more pleasantly

55
SCATTERED BY THE TEMPEST. 2

Lucifer, and Com-

“T heartily thank you, my kind friends, ch, for it

sage er mu
pelagic ery ait together near

”

body ?” Comfort

and innocently.
“T guess nothin’ ain’t a goin’ to hurt no

ask 1 hudder. F ‘: ” catd the

“on be eo" ate hurt or harmed in this bones bape
Potato, “ [’ll split this island wide open _ sae kidac ae
and roll one half of it over into the sound on

7 ide id
the other half into the sound on the other & to his feet, and

“Listen!” said Lucifer, springing again that’s
siikcae coe ae his pipe as he did a ie swear
comical! Didn't you hear that tater tain” 7. there any-

“T heard it,” said Doctor Skyelake, calmly." Ps
thing very remarkable about that, friend 3 wi in the devil

M4 Remarkable 1” Lucifer exclaimed. thing up out o’ the
ever heerd a tater talk afore! I dug that thing

so
c : ater, for it was growin
patch yisterday, and thought it was a tater, it’s some sort of

to the vines. But hanged if I don't eat as much then

a littl il of a man! If I’d a knowed as | fingers
as I tapi you wouldn’t a kotch’ me puttin’ my Dug)

bese i ” sal fort.

"eT never did like them Blumudgins no - ! — on for

“ And Lucifer, I wants you to git out o the - cage
“Why? why ? why?” asked Doctor Skyelake, 1 app

N é Z ”
Surprise. “Has this hurt you in any way tement, and for

; . : eat exci
“ Damnation !” said Lucifer, in gr sence of a great and

the ti vetting that he was in the presence chet
searibie bate ey don’t want taters oat es me raed
fashion | *posin’ I should a happened to = ae
my belly,—which I did come as nigh as a SIxp
ow si , if you had
sf Wey it aie not have hurt you in the oe "ee my
eaten it v said Skyelake. “ How does i a wi 1 will
See here Lucifer ; though I am not at a ? = o pits Pri;
eat this fellow's legs and arms, ee A — the head,
g00d and nutritious food. There! suppose yo

now ?” ; ‘ the
ne oe you do it, Lucifer!” said Comfort, house at
bare thought,— don’t you eat that tater, Lucifer

 
 
   

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

256

 

KATE WEATHERS; OR,

“ Kat that tater!” Lucifer exclaimed. “I swear I wouldn't
eat the least bit of it to save my own life, that I wouldn’t !”

“Oh, very well, then,” said Doctor Skyelake. “It was a
mere suggestion ; there is no compulsion about it. But then,
Comfort, Blumudgins are as good food as any other kind of

otato.”

a That may be,” said Lucifer, in a tone somewhat calmer
than he had been speaking, “but I shall git clare of the seed
of Blumudgins right away ; hanged if I don’t !”

Doctor Skyelake placed the mangled body of the man-potato
back in the pan, and turning to Socrates, remarked, “So you
are pleased with my Pear Theory ?”

“ Wrapped in it, head and ears,” Socrates answered.

“T am glad of it,”’ said Doctor Skyelake, smiling pleasantly.
“A work, let it be what it may, that can stand the test
of careful examination,—that can be analyzed, synthetized,
crumpled, powdered, evaporated, and then again solidified,—
that is symmetrical and in good proportions under the micro-
scopic test of intellect,—such a work deserves praise ; and I truly
hope that mine—that cost me such a world of patient research
and honest labor—aye, that cost me my life—is a work of that
character. I believe it is, renowned Socrates J unior ; because
you have tested it, and you are satisfied. Ah, Socrates, that
Chickimicomocachie was a cruel wretch! a cruel, cruel wretch !
a wretch whose heart was as cold and hard as the axe he struck
with !”

Socrates arose to his feet: his eyes gleamed like fire. “I
know nothing of the Indian language,” he said, fiercely ; “but
if Chickimicomocachie does not mean VILLAIN, it ought
fo,”

“Ah me!” continued Doctor Skyelake, with a sigh, “a cruel,
cruel wretch, Socrates! How well I recollect now that I was
sitting upon the embankment, gazing up into the starry sky;
there was no moon that night, and y

“ Not so fast,” said Socrates. “ Excuse me, profound and
venerated sir. But history says that the moon was at its full
on that night, and that you were sitting there calculating the
quantity of heat that came with the moonlight to earth in the
space of an hour.’

“ Be calm and moderate, my friend,” said Doctor Skyelake,
kindly, “for you know it is philosophy to be calm and mod-

 

  

  

57
SCATTERED BY THE TEMPEST. 2

ind is in a col-
erate under all circumstances: for when the m

5 . rly ; its
lected state the intellect can see meer an ee a
Vision has a more extensive range ; It ro on soxede. Be
down deeper, and farther away eres, caves eee
quiet a time, Socrates, and hear what doen”
know better about the matter than inctoey He 4 ink aan
“ But, profound sir,” said Socrates, be the great. stone-
memory is seated in the brain; and that w peter aware
axe fell with all its deadly force upon reply been cleft into
crashing through the se repre 4 Leki
as ten thousand little bi f those
hy Adwitit?” interrupted Doctor Skyelake; ‘ aa bi There
little bits would tell as reliable a tale as a worthy of the
are but few histories that I am acquainte pies to ten truths.
name,—few that do not contain ninety untru is a weak man:
Nhs Uacs in ten, Socrates, the —, strength. Iam
therefore nine-tenths of our ‘histories 1ac this matter of my
only giving you my personal experience 10

ing it. Hear me.
murder and the circumstances surrounding 1t

race ent, looking up
“T was sitting at midnight on the embankment, Thee et

into the sky, that was clear, starry, and ge Ho a wwe
been there very long before my emg Sa ee
& comet, that grew continually in bril a y Anrep
nucleus was in the shape of an egg, and its a eee
far away behind it. Its movement = a nerd Regutal,
was shooting like a thunderbolt directly a ok Se
the Lion. Anxiously I watched it as 1t coutthe Proves
nearer to the great star,—for I had no dou ana
Would collide. Oh, with what feverish peared panic
looked; expecting soon to see millions we reat sak Gehisaal
Regulus flying in every direction, and the . regen ll The
Comet sailing right on through the dpe sical taakeill
comet went crashing into the star. At ee anal a
Chickimicomocachie’s stone-axe went Goat inl agate
brain, But I saw stars, and fragments of § prandiry aege
of fragments of stars, by the million millions.

ome time bring
unexpected was the blow, that I could not for s Sapper

ine t
myself to believe but that I was gazing = y! retib *
Regulus : aye, I was sure it must be 80, un a pie 29
open my shottsh to exclaim, Wonderful! then ‘

her
one half of my head was yg one shoulder, and the othe
2:

 

 
 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

   

 

 

 

 

 

258

   

KATE WEATHERS; OR,

half on the other shoulder. Now there you have the facts, -

Socrates, let your history say what it may.”

“ Indeed !” said Socrates. “ I am very glad, sir, to get at the
truth of the matter, for history has it otherwise in several im-
portant respects. What a tremendous crash those two great
bodies must have made when they came in contact! I won-
der what became of the comet after the collision ?”

“T forgot to tell you that,” said Doctor Skyelake. “Around
those million millions of fragments I saw at least twenty thousand
full-sized Reguluses and twenty thousand long-tailed comets,
each Regulus revolving with inconceivable velocity, and each
comet with its nucleus as flat as a pewter plate, and every one
of them with battered and ragged edges.”

“ Hard telling, I should say,” said Socrates, “ which got the
worst of the butt! But I had thought, sir, that Regulus was
a solid, compact body, and that there was so little matter
and substance about a comet that forty thousand of them,
coming one immediately after another, might strike Regulus
plumb in the same spot and not make an indentation three
inches deep. _Is it possible that comets are of such hard, tough

matter, and fixed stars of such hard, brittle matter ? Well,
there is useful knowledge acquired, at any rate: the substance
of stars is friable, that of comets malleable,—a good point!
But, doctor, did you ever have knowledge to fall upon your
head like a heavy weight? This of stars and comets comes
to me in that way; it comes crashing down upon my brain as
the fiery bolt hurled from the hand of Jupiter strikes the
oak. Bless my life! it has torn and shattered me into shreds |
Six of my forty-nine books are crowded from preface to finis
with ‘ unanswerable arguments’ showing that comets are mere
nebulze,—mere clouds, as it were, of glimmering light ; matter
imponderable ; unshaped, intangible substance! Bless me!
Bless me! Two thousand pages to prove a lie! To think
that I should have os¢ so much precious time, and squandered
such a world of pains and brains! Bless me! Bless me!
How unfortunate |”

Socrates had reached up both his hands, and while he was
giving a loose rein to grief, and making those sorrowful excla-
mations, he was also tearing great bunches of the tangled hair
from his head. i

Lucifer and his wife had recovered from their fright, and

   

9
SCATTERED BY THE TEM PEST. 25

is hai fort

now, as Socrates was making sad havoe of i ae 6
called out. across the fireplace, “ Don’t ! 9 bee trie
the hair you've got is about your ears, and if you nit omic
Out you will look ugly, sure ‘nough, with your
and lic d eourd 1” f :

. No, you'd Si not do it,” said Lucifer ; “ for Bhim
hanged if your head won’t freeze and crack open W
Comes on.”

“Such transports of fury accompli
tates,” said Doctor Skyelake, mildly.

all, so very unfortunate in your case ‘ nigede
there is. sa have written forty-nine books,—certanly ¥

i at
Intend to write one more. No philosopher ete i :
forty-nine books, it is too near an even half- . “ ‘aaa
how that you are intelligent, quick, pas Hi eet Aidioulty
fiftieth book ; in it you can explain away the - pepe pre 4
Without the least trouble, and to the entire sal “i een aa
the scientific and the unscientific world, and th : 4 Pb a
taking back a single word that you have sal
Ooks on comets and stars.’ me
“Do pin think so?” asked Socrates, hopefully, 4 bape
the hair that he had torn from his head - ’
rammed both his hands into his trousers’ poc . are a
“Think so? Nothing more certain, said th : es jie bas
laughed at Socrates's simplicity. “ Few scienti cba oe ee
friend, that are not continually doing the very ages
Now have in hand to do. egg ee i
making u, if you manage it cleverly. ‘ :
Bice 5 i still more hopeful at hearing "get Bete
faintly, then laughed feebly, and then seate
and remained silent for some time. j af
Iincites ved his wife both mustered up pepe rie 2 fi
Join in Socrates’s laugh. And > whole trou
SEDATE ene Doar Skye, suing
benevolently «that this earth is shaped like a oo Yala
“ Can’t say I did,” said Lucifer. © But oF ee
devilish little difference to me whether it’s pear § And pap
shape, or round, or flat, or square, 80 things apes : pe
and the fish bite lively,—which they don es a
hothin’ like what they used to; for here I've bee

sh no good, friend Soc-
«“ There is nothing, after
e as you seem to think

 
  
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

 

 

 

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

 

 
 
 

 

  
 

 

 

 

 

 

  

260

 

KATE WEATHERS; OR,

sound three days hand runnin’ and ain’t had twenty bites.
Maybe you can tell me what’s the best bait for trout ?”

“And the hawks has been catchin’ my chickens mighty
brisk of late days,” said Comfort; “and I shouldn't wonder
if you couldn’t tell me the best ways to keep the warmints
from pesterin’ me like they does.”

“My simple friends!” said Socrates, in amazement, “I
truly hope that this great man will kindly excuse your vul-
garity ; but pray ask no more such questions, for depend upon
it you place yourselves in a most ridiculous light by doing so.
I much question that the profound philosopher whom you
address has ever allowed such commonplace subjects as trout-
baiting and hawk-catching to enter his mind,—if, indeed, he is
aware of the existence of either trout or hawks. Pray ask no
more such simple and vulgar questions.”’

“Didn’t you never eat fish, and chickens, and eggs and
sich, when you was livin’ ?” asked Lucifer, looking into the
doctor’s benevolent face.

“ Many and many, and many, and many a time!” he replied.

“TJ ’spected as much: and maybe you've kotch many and
many a trout, and killed many and many a hawk too ?”

“ Lucifer !” said Socrates, sharply.

“ Many and many and many and many a one!” said Doctor
Skyelake, in answer to Lucifer’s question. “I have sat by
the hour, and baited my hook with worms, and caught eels
and catfish, and, in fact, any sort of fish that might choose to
bite; and as to hawks, I think I have caught and killed
together two hundred. Where do you fish, Lucifer? You
must be a tame fisherman not to have had twenty bites in
three whole days!”

“T fishes out here in the sound,” Lucifer answered.

“T supposed that: but where in the sound ?”

“ Well, it’s this way: I’ve got four stakes sot. I paddles out
and takes them, one after another ; if I don’t catch after tryin’
em all, I comes back home.”

“Go out again to-morrow ; take two other stakes with you:
stick one of them in water that is deeper, and the other in
water that is shallower than that at the four stakes that are
already stuck. If need be, give both places a fair trial ; then
return home, fish or no fish. Don’t tie to a single one of the
old stakes. Bob vigorously, and in every direction around

  

  

SCATTERED BY THE TEMPEST. 261

you. Now as to your hawks, Comfort, I will make a ped for
you to-morrow with my own hands. Leave hawks to me. a
Socrates was astounded at the great man's condescension, :
Well as to hear from his own mouth that he had at 6 uae
during his life stooped to such things as baiting his ee Pe >t
Worms, and catching eels and catfish. But Lucifer an pases
fort were so highly pleased that they both at the same poe
Were moved to take their pipes from their mouths, ap Pras
the ends of the stems through their hands to le pip be
Spittle, and offer them, half filled and well lighted me A aS
to the old man to smoke. But he pleasantly declin mor
Offers, sdying that it always made him giddy-headed to s )
€ven as much as ten whiffs. at
“Can it be- possible, profound sir,
= have ever baited your hook with wo
or eels ?” fete
“Not only baited with worms and fished Fp
Doctor Skyelake, “but, after catching ove ha ‘ a Bt

ave many and many and many a time squal pac
my knife fi my Dias and cleaned those fish nicely; then

kindled a fire, peppered and salted the fish, and cooked be
eat them all but the bones, which I always panel a
my fingers and fed to the cats after I had got through eating.

Socrates was amazed. : :
h “There is more philosophy in — things, friend Socrates,
than you probably ever dreamed of.” as

Seoainis who for some time had been sitting on one fe
low stools not far from Doctor Skyelake, now raise .
hands, and ran his fingers and thumbs violently, a rapes
More times, through what remained of his hair, untl Bassy
Strand of it stuck straight out, and had the ape aS
being fine wire rather than hair ; then, ceasing Bug's - Bh f
he continued to hold his hands about his ears, while ae - me

is eyes toward the philosopher and stared vacantly 7 *
Space of five minutes into his face without uttering 4 ;

During this whole five minutes Doctor Skyelake was looking

i ilent; but so frank
back into Socrates's face, and he too was silent; b po

and amiable was the expression of his countenance,
One to have seen him could have believed that he eat ae :
Scintilla of enmity against any living being upon hes 7 Poe
last Socrates turned his eyes away, lowered his forehea

’ asked Socrates, “ that
rms and sat fishing

 

 
  
 
 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

     

 

262 KATE WEATHERS; OR,

down into the palms of his hands, and sat, with his elbows
resting on his knees, looking down at the space on the floor
between his two feet. But it was not long before his head

suddenly popped up: a smile was now on his face, for a happy
idea had come into his mind.

“This earth, doctor,” he said, “is a big peg-top.”

“ Exactly,” said Doctor Skyelake; “and it is forever spin-
ning.”

“Sublime!” said Socrates. Then he looked up into the
roof, and wrapped himself again, head and ears, in the mantle
of meditation.

“What do you think of sturgeon as a eatin’ fish?” asked
Lucifer of the doctor.

“Tt is capital food,” said Doctor Skyelake, with warmth ;
“and then sturgeon is fish (we will call it Jish) that a blind
man can safely undertake to eat, from the fact that it is bone-
less.”

“T ain’t been so mad in a year as I was this very morn-
ing!” said Comfort, with a chuckle. “TI had a live blue-fish
in my hand, and was just gittin’ ready to scale him, when—
think he didn’t bite me as a dog would a done! Here’s the
print of his tecth in my thumb and forefinger yet. You see
I thought the warmint was about dead when I took him up,
—but it warn’t long after he bit me before he was dead; for
J was mad then, as well as him, and I took his ugly head off
in short order.”

“Getting angry for such a cause was very foolish in you,
Comfort,” said Doctor Skyelake. “The fish knew no better
than to bite you, but you are a reasonable creature. Now, if
you had not cut his head off as you did, but had stood and
quarrelled and fretted for an hour, he would have bitten you
again, if he had been alive still, and you had given him an
opportunity: he is not a reasonable creature. Nature has
given him the evil propensity, or whatever you may . call it,

without placing a bridle and bit on that propensity ; with you
the case is very different. A blue-fish will devour its own
young,—which is full proof to my mind of its utter lack of
reason, if there were no other. But Comfort, you have reason,
and therefore you did a very silly, nay, wicked thing, to take —
revenge on a fish. The fish biting you, and then your getting
into a passion and attacking the fish, is much as a battle be-

SCATTERED BY THE TEMPEST. 263

tween two blue-fish, in which the most powerful wig gr
OW anger is a sting that requires great care 1n the t _ ne
for not unfrequently it bends from its object and yates er
that aimed it.’ Never again so far forget yourself as ee
Your sting until after deliberate consideration ,—never ee
at an irrational creature; for, though you will oP = oa
culty in piereing it, the barbs of the sting may of paces
Carcass at your side until it shall decay, and its odor er
offensive not only to yourself, but to all others piss 2 **
near you; the putrid carcass may have to be lugge a . rhe
You for a long time. It is best that we be patient, an esi
ills as quietly as possible, Comfort ; therefore, when o =
bitten by a blue-fish again, wipe the blood from your bec? :
and resolve to be more careful next time about handling pr
brutes. And do not forget that the reasonable ere a 4
Undertakes to avenge himself upon a_brute, for Parse
Céived from it, only lowers himself to its level, an hs 5 te
— an equal. I suppose you did not cook and ea
Ss ??
“That I did!” said Comfort; “he was a nice fat feller,
me ibali Never
“There you did wrong again; it was cannibalism. bape
again slay and eat an antagonist; savages act Uupo
Pale? 2.5,
“What, not eat blue-fish ?”
“Oh, Cat as many of them as you wish to, for they are good
food ; but only don't get mad and murder them ine pe
Socrates had brought his eyes down from the roof, am ak
Moving them up and down the line of the trio, hang as pee
_ plainly showed, were deeply interested in what they
<Ing about.
ws Lucifer and Comfort! he said, “for heaven’s sake poke
Some discretion—some sort of a shade of a shadow of a nt
sa propriety about you! This is the third time that Np “
brought. in your rude, unmannerly interjections, an 4 ur -
the Conversation out of its legitimate channel upon the a
Vulear subjects that could be thought of,—hawks, nme cage
catfish, worms, eels, sturgeon, blue-fish, and the like ne
Utterly disgusted, indignant; and if J am so, how —e hee:
©ase be with this great, good, and profound philosopher
SClentist ?”?
*

 

 

 
 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

264 KATE WEATHERS; OR,

“Let them talk upon subjects that suit them best, friend,”
said Doctor Skyelake. “TI assure you I take great interest in
what they say. Company that is forever on its p’s and:q’s is
anything but enjoyable to a reasonable creature that has a soul
a quarter of an inch long; and I believe that mine is longer
than that. You and I will have full time to talk upon sub-
jects that interest us most, but that would be unmeaning and
boring to these. I think it would be highly selfish in us not
to have respect for the pleasures of these good people, who, if
we shut off all their pleasure views, will either go to sleep, or
wish we were in Balahack for keeping them awake by our
clatter. Let them talk as they will, friend Socrates.”

“Socrates has been tellin’ us all along that you was a great
one,” said Lucifer ; “and you is, too; I know that!”

“T never seed a great man before in my life,” said Comfort.
“T likes ’em ’mazin’ !”

“ You have seen me,” said Socrates, in a somewhat offended
tone; “you have seen me every day for the past eighteen
months. I am the author of forty-nine books, containing in
the aggregate about fifteen thousand pages, and these books

treat upon the most abstruse subjects. I may not be a great
man, yet I am entitled to some credit.”

“ Forty-nine books!” Lucifer exclaimed ; “and don’t none
of ’em tell how to make hawk-traps, and how to catch fish,
and sich ?”

“ Bah!” said Socrates. “« Really, Lucifer, if I did not know
the fact that both you and Comfort are the kind-hearted souls
you are, I should be tempted to get very angry.”

CHAPTER XXVI.

ASLEEP NEAR THE ISLAND SHORE.

THE boat that contained Marie and her children and Fran-

gois and Jeannot and old Basil and Fawn and Timon passed
out of the creek into the broad river, on the morning that they
left the camp at Pine Island, just as the sun was rising. It

was a morning much like that when Marie and her children

    

SCATTERED BY THE TEMPEST. 265

had been there before,—when they were fleeing from the very
lace t ich they were now returning. :
: Ss Oh ond Haws, rising to her feet and booking
upon the scenes, “how beautiful! how wonde' ne Seer
Basil, why have you not described to us prs os ee
and loveliness? why have you not brought u
them ?” vA
“Dear child,” old Basil said, “I knew jor ey err 1
and happy, dwelling by the shores of = agate
Seared to show my children these: yet 0 = pie
you of them,—of the broad river, reaching far perigee oA
orth and far away to the south from the — oe
little creek out of which we have just ey Borge 88
Wildernesses at the sides of the river. Often — ae
of how the waters here are sometimes as placid as prayed
ild Lake, and of how the waves prgpeeg ae
along, dashing among the rete and trees tha
Shores, not remember ?” ; ;
«And earn Fawn,” you told us not how heautifal all
is. Qh, what a world of light is before us! eee
“Nor could I, dear child, have conveyed to ~~ am
idea of what you now see. I painted the ness as ye
as I was able——but what are pictures when plac . price
With the real? Pen nor pencil, nor the language : ja ‘ ps
truly tell of God’s glorious creations: they mus — ms
themselves. I have told you of the world that, x ss aie
Seen, hoping that you might be made familiar Aa phen
Cutside of it, believing that you might take the 6 wg
the world unseen and compare with it that 8% cad aed
€nabled to see the unseen, but I was mistaken Peay. 20"
am that I knew not of the eebe arr! now, fo
ave been miserable if I had known it. she
“ You will remember that I have often told cs = ie
at any time die and leave you alone,—that then yer re
bury ‘me under the ground,—that after that A agra bn
the skiff and make your way out here, and sti sale to oi
8reat world yonder. Ah, what I said was but a ri anger
and all the pains I took in pointing out the - ap
Should take was all as nothing! I told you t . fret:
should get this far you should move on to the te - shan
the wide waters, until you sna reach the habitati
M 98

 

 
 

 

266 KATE WEATHERS; OR,

Yonder are those wide waters: the land beyond it is too dis-
tant to be seen from here.” :

“T am glad,” said Timon, “that we have come now, and
with you, for alone we should be lost’ here; alone we would
return to die near the shores of Wild Lake.”

“Thank God,” said old Basil, “that we are here together !”

The sails of the boat were raised, the oars taken in, and the
little boat went creeping along before the light breeze.

“ We have the wind fair and gentle,” said Francois; “ and
no doubt, if we move straight on, we shall be able to reach
the place for which we are aiming before night. But we must
remember the necessity of being extremely watchful and cau-
tious now, and the question suggests itself’ to my mind: Shall
we go boldly on? This lady and these children are under our
protection and care. Is it well to venture out into the broad
sound, and then on to the coast, where, no doubt, we shall be
received inhospitably, in the manner that we are now going,
or would it be more prudent and wise to take these sails down,
and wait until night comes on, before we push on ?”

“I know from experience,” said old Basil, “that we shall
have to deal with a rude, savage people, let us meet them
when we may. Yet I am inclined to think that our best
course now is to put on a bold front, and sail on as we are

going. I should apprehend greater danger to land there in
the night-time, for then we would not have our eyes to help us,
and eyes are sometimes valuable aids in the prevention of evil.”

“ We will try it,” said Frangois. “God grant that we have
taken the best way to rid ourselves of a dilemma !”

When the boat rounded the west end of Durant’s Island,
and passed out into the broad sound, Fawn and Timon were
amazed at the extent of the waters. Francois and Jeannot
were still sitting near the tiller; old Basil, Timon, and Paul
occupied the thwart, nearly amidships; and Marie and her
children and Fawn were in the bow. ’

“What strange-looking yellow clouds are yonder!” said
Fawn, pointing to the eastward. “ They seem to be floating
upon the water.”

“They are not clouds, child,” said old Basil, “but hills of
yellow sand on the coast-reef. We aim to land there.”

“‘ Are we now in the Atlantic Ocean ?” asked Timon.

“No, indeed !” said Paul, laughing. “This is Albemarle

 

 

D)
SCATTERED BY THE TEMPEST. 267

Sound. Great as it may site you, Timon, it is a mere
Pond in comparison with the Atlantic.

“Th fs thought” said Timon, “ that the ocean eer
80 immense as this! What a great world this must be
We are going into !”

The ak 4 that had been light from the ae
at last to a mere breath; and the little boat, that h whee
Within a few miles of the coast, was barely ee pi
J eannot, who had been constantly on the watch, su " y
claimed, “ See, a boat is being rowed out towards ‘hich 1s wie

All eyes instantly turned in the direction 7 aa ‘ileal
Pointing (which was directly over the bow), an d ‘ca statale
Was a little boat, rowed by two oars, bounding til ds bien
directly toward them. All sat mutely gazing untl hed hook
6 sd to turn to one side from the course that 1t ha
Lolding j -line from the shore.

“The ees women !” said Marie. “ And eae
must be very old, for see how white the hair that is
Out before her face! What can they mean?

“Impossible to tell!” Frangois answered.

Tawn a circle around us, and are now §P
shore,”

“It looks badly!” said old ce exe did not even
Speak. T fear there is mischief brooding !

“ Lady,” said Francois, “ I cannot consent to — pose |
Tesponsibility of proceeding farther until you geal iio de
Object was no doubt to satisfy themselves fully af ie
their boat, Evil is impending, and we have no — Swill
fence ; and, in case we are attacked by these ers Say
th, Out of our power to protect you and am chi i.

€n,—shall turn back, or continue on meee

Marie esdigbea but a few moments before pen brad Let
US trust in God’s mercy for protection, and ae care,” said
F “Let us unship the mast and put out the ;

rancois,

Dark night had come on when the keel of ee Ligation
Stinding on the sand in the shallow water; the " 4 san
‘round broadside to the shore; the men were eng ing —
Preparations to get out and draw it nearer in to = Paks
the bright flash was seen, and the loud report heard, pe pene
two balls came whistling over old Basil’s head,—o

“They have
eeding back to

     
       

  
 

 

 
 
 
 
 
 
  
 

 

 
 
 

 

 
 
 
 
  
 
 
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

 

  
 
 
 
 
 

 

 
 

   

 

 

 

268

 

KATE WEATHERS; OR,

ing through the main-sail, the other through the crown of his
cap.

Great was the confusion and distress that followed. In a
twinkling old Basil snatched up Fawn’s bow and sent an ar-
row whizzing at a dark object at the shore: another flash and
loud report instantly followed this; then the oars were put
out and the boat shot away into the darkness.

“Dear madame,” said old Basil, as he toiled with all his
might at his oar, “ were you or your children hurt? Fawn!
Timon !”

“ Thank God, we are all unhurt,” said Marie. -

“ Thank God! Thank God!” said the old man.

“Tear off some of your clothing, men,” said Francois, who
was steering the boat away: “ the oars must be muffled, for
no doubt we will be pursued. Feather your oars and make
no plashing in the water now.” And in a few minutes the
boat was gliding noiselessly back in the direction from which
she had come.

“ Will it not be better to change our course, Francois ?”
asked Jeannot. “When they come in pursuit, it will, no
doubt, be in a lighter boat than this, and with more oars than
we have, and, besides, the pursuers will most probably come on

in this very course. Suppose we run across to the island that
We saw as we came here ?”

“We can do nothing better,” said old Basil, “than to go
there, and wait and listen for them; then, probably, after a
time we may proceed safely on.”

The boat was then steered for the island, and in less than
half an hour she was resting quietly near its shore.

“ Hark!” said Paul, in a shuddering whisper. “Is not
that the sound of their oars? and are they not coming in this
direction ?”

“Tt is the sound of the pursuing boat,” said Francois, “but
they are going in the direction from which we came to-day:
How rapid their strokes! It is well that we are here !”

Then all sat quietly listening as the boat passed rapidly on
toward Croatan. Fainter continually became the creaking and
rumbling sounds, until at last they ceased to be heard.

“My friends,” said old Basil, “I have been sitting here
considering. I have thought of a plan of action which I will
submit to your good judgment. Our condition, as you know,

* may be preserved. I may make friends,

SCATTERED BY THE TEMPEST.

: : tne other
18 a desperate one; yet we must not despair, but, on

ropose

and, keep our wits closer about us mms ug mth ia

Frangois, that instead of running back into tt out cal

steer over to or near the high bluff that we pein island and
48 we came along to-day ; it is in full view from tu ;

‘ ill have no
Hot more than four or five miles sie wild bine behind

difficulty in finding a hiding-place poo we have so recently

Which is the great wilderness from which rte
come ; but ts if it should be impossible to — ee
Safely, you can leave it and escape into the bi a ae
the first part of my plan. The second part is that y
me on this island.” i
4 Leave-vanft said Francois ; ‘‘ upon an par tee
Strangers, who in all probability are as rude x cs yon bite
. the dwellers upon the coast? Go away and fe
alone ?” ie
“Tam an old man, and at best have not ae prvi
live,” said old Basil. ‘“ Both of you are Agere a cipipine
T have been with you already long enough . t aloo 10 pte
Only this unfortunate lady and her children, bu
Cious ones, will be in good hands.” : vis
he But what is the A mn ?” asked tee? 2 beac lin
the ts of r remaining here a
Tabet a old Basil, “that the peeps =
Complishing good is far from flattering ; ae Ale = may life
sult. This island is but a few miles from eat . te
People may be. I may learn more about ts pee tien
Coast. I may enlist the sympathies of rude a a
Under some pretext, cross with them safely to
May prepare a way for us all (
informaten of nk lost one for whom you are seare
gain, if you go to the opposite shore an

ave suggested, I shall be but a short dis ; Re
near that we may be able to communicate by signals at might,

ad.

and these signals may be made to speak a Poi a it

€ are in a dilemma, but we must keep a g0 d ersities that

may be that we shall yet triumph over the adversilicl tT
are besetting us, and overcome the obstacles tha

way. Whether we do so or not, let us strive on with a g
heart "

tance from you,—s0

23*

 
  

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

  

 

270 KATE WEATHERS; OR,

Sad, indeed, was the grief of Fawn and Timon at hearing
this. They clung to their kind old friend and wept and
moaned, beseeching him to remain with them.

“No, my precious children,” said the old man, “I cannot
remain with you; a high and noble duty calls, and I must
obey. May God watch over and protect us all! I leave you
in His care, and with kind friends.” Saying these words the
old man stepped from the gunwale to the sandy shore.

“ But the signals,” said Frangois. “ What shall they be?”

“J intended to speak of that before parting,” old Basil
said, “and was only waiting for this poor old heart to cease its
wild fluttering a time. If any sad misfortune befall you, hold
up three lights,—but you will always have to wait for my
signal to know that I am in place. One light from me will
tell you that I am unharmed; a reply in the same manner
will tell me the same of you. Two lights will tell you of good
news ; answer in the same manner, then wave your lights to
cheer me. ‘Two lights that remain steady a few minutes, and
then wave, and then the disappearance of one and the remain-
ing steady of the other, will speak good news and tell you to
cross over to me. Answer my signals as you receive them.”
A rustle was heard among the bushes near the shore,—the old
man was gone. Then the boat moved off toward Croatan
Bluff.

An hour passed, and then those who were in the boat, that
was making her noiseless way to the westward still, and had
almost reached the land, heard again the rumble of oars away
to the southward of them. Louder and louder the sounds
became. The pursuers’ boat was heading directly toward them.
Quick now were the strokes of the muffled oars, and soon the
boat passed into the mouth of a little creek a few hundred
yards to the southward of the bluff; there at the shore she
was brought to a halt, and then drawn under the thick cypress
boughs that arched over and reached down even into the water.
Here they remained, still as death.

Day was beginning to dawn, and it was not long before
the pursuers’ boat was seen. It came and halted near them.
The rowers drew in their oars across the gunwales and rested.
The dim figures of four persons could be seen. Their voices
could be heard. But it was not long before their boat was
headed toward the island, the oars were put out again, and it

   

SCATTERED BY THE TEMPEST. 271

Passed away and away until it was hid behind the rush covered
point. ag Tei
Here the refugees remained for hou ;
Was seen by eue but the broad waters and the lands ype
and at last they came forth from their hidin eplace ye ather
Away ; and when again the shadows 5 re d it Devant’s
around them they had reached the west end ° d had died
Island, at the mouth of the broad river. The win ry ones
away again, the boat was tied at the shore, and the weary

Prepared for rest and slumber.

In a few minutes the children were d .
tired mother followed her darlings into the beautiful dream

land. Even Francois and Jeannot, as greatly as ited desired
to watch, sat in their places and nodded and napp ot ia
All was still. ‘The skies were glittering with § a : eta!
Watchers were fitfully dreaming. Suddenly Jeann iS
his feet. i
“Francois!” he called, “ Frangois ! Ww
“ Great heaven !” said Frangois, “ it is &
Our pursuers are upon us,—they are roun
Unship the mast! Quick, Jeannot, while I shove Tel Bo
Possible under these bushes! There, lie down =
them best from here. Here they are, nearly upon u ae
“Ts the stern concealed?” asked Jeannot; can y'
Shove her a few inches farther under ?
“It is not quite concealed, but s
Hish-h 1”
The pursuers’ boat shot by into the , ;
as it a ae Racy suse | stern. On, on ae
creak and rumble sounding less Bs less distinctly
made their rapid way up the broad river. "
“Tet us be off” TT ieeancta «they may return.
“ But where shall we go?” asked Jeannot. er eye
“T know of nothing better to do,” said Feat Mirna,
skirt along the southern shore of this island at rs tea:
then on up toward the head of the hag lake tha :
We passed out of the river to-day. e sha ch
inland hts ‘out in the direction of the island ie Yr an
We left Basil. I am inclined to believe that the hea

f so, We
ake is near the little creek we left th If so

watching, but naught

asleep, and then the

hat noise is that?”
he creaking of oars !

ding the point,—
hove her as far as

he will go no farther.

river, almost scraping

 

 
 

 

 

 

 

 

272 KATE WEATHERS; OR,

to be where we can look out for the signals if possible ; and I
am sure it cannot be far through the woods from the head of
the lake to the sound-shore opposite Basil’s island. By taking
this course, too, we will in all probability baffle our pursuers,
who no doubt watched us as we came into the river, and will
be apt to think that we have gone on up.”

“Mercy! mercy!” screamed Marie, waking from sleep.
“Where are we going in such haste? Where are the chil-
dren ?”

“ Pray be quiet, lady,” said Francois. “Our pursuers are
not far away; they came almost upon us while you were
sleeping. Do you not hear that rumbling up the river?
They have passed up.”

“ Are the children all safe?” asked the frightened mother.

“ They are all near you,” said Frangois. “Not one of them

has even aroused from sleep.”

“Thank God that we have escaped again!” said the now
weeping mother. Then all was still again except the subdued
sobbings of that sorrowing one.

The hour of midnight had passed before the head of the

great lake was reached. The faithful toilers rested, and it —

was not long before even they were buried in deep sleep ; nor
were the slumbers of the tired ones broken until the sun had
risen high over the eastern woods.

 

CHAPTER XXVIL.

SPIRITS CONVERSING.

“ Here’s what fishin’ at new places does!” said Lucifer _

Grindle to his wife, as he lifted a basketful of fine trout from

his shoulder and sat it down near the sealing-bench. “Shouldn't —

wonder if I ain’t found out a thing or two lately. Hang me,

Comfort, if that old ghost ain’t got a long head. Sure’s you're

born he ain’t no fool.”

“ And there’s what new-fashioned traps does for hawks,” said
Comfort, pointing her finger, as she chuckled gladly, to three
large hen-hawks that were hanging by their legs, head down-

 

   
 

SCATTERED BY THE TEMPEST. 273

“
ward, to the limb of a little tree that grew near the EY on
Shan’t never be pestered with hawks no more,—that rote!
Oh me! wouldn’t the hens and the roosters and ~~ ve |
and the eges be glad if they only had sense separ Ok
what a cute thing these traps is to catch hawks wi )
mm m my!” :

% Doctor Skyelake is a very great man,” said papers be
had come out of the house to learn what. Comfort pre beer
ing so heartily about. “And I am very glad that y aa wal
me when I told you that he would certainly — one
roi he has rendered you, though it was less than

our hours ago when he came.” Loe

But the doctor was heard to call from within the house.
“ Lucifer !” Paiagpor ace

“ Ay—ay !”” answered Lucifer ; m . :

a aa Tim here,” said Doctor Skyelake; “ — wish you to
be here and not there, or I would not have calle eee

Lucifer advanced to the door and poked in his hea
Said, “ Well, here I is. What do you want?

“Come here!” said the doctor, in a sepulchral tone.

Lucifer started. “Here I is,” he said.

“Where have you been to-day ?”

zs =: ?—Fishin’.” 7

hat di uu catch ?” : e
- es Me raed bushel basket rammed, ae i: and piled
ull of fat trout. Just as nice as ever was seed. o

“You fished at new places ?—in deep — — water ?

“ Jes’ so: ’s what you told me, you know.

mi! kin: Tish agisis to-morrow at still other new regs

If the fish don’t bite at one place, after reasonable bipoe!

to another; if they fail ¢here, go to another ; pe" Pad bet
8oing, if need be, until you get half a bushel > echt
again. Mind you, though, don’t tie to an old sta Boost
at those you put down to-day; don’t spit on Jena) Cae
don’t come back to this house, Lucifer Grindle, until you rae

Caught at least half a bushel of fat trout. Don't come 1°

here with less than half a bushel of fat trout, I say, even i

Should take you two whole weeks to catch them.

“Don’t spit on the bait, you say ?”
“ Not once.”
“Allright. I'll try it. But hanged

”

 

 

 

 
  
 
 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

  

  

274

“ Lucifer !”
“ What ?”

“ Don’t fail to-morrow to do exactly as I have said. Wait.
Where are you off to in such a hurry ?”

“Me ?—I was goin’ to help Comfort to clean and salt the
fish.”

“Where did you stick those two stakes to-day ?”

“ Right in the mouth o’ Shallowbag Bay, where old Sir
Walker Rawdle and his crew throwed over their slops and
beef-bones. They tell me the fish hangs around eatin’ them

bones and things yet. It’s the best place in the round world
to fish at.’’

“The world is not round, Lucifer,” said Socrates, whose
head was protruding in at the door ; “it is pear-shaped.”

“ How do you know,” asked Doctor Skyelake, “that it is
the best place in the world to fish at ?”

“ Me?—Why, I’ve tried it.”

“Tried what? Have you fished all over the world?”

“Well, I guess not quite; but I’ve fished pretty smart
about here.”

“ Lucifer,” said Doctor Skyelake, “don’t fish within half a
mile of Shallowbag Bay to-morrow.”

“Then nothin’ won’t be kotch !” said Lucifer, snappishly ;
“ for hanged 3

“ Lucifer !”

“ What ?”

“ Don’t—fish—within—half a mile—of Shallowbag Bay to-
morrow |”

“Allright. T’ll try it.”

“ My friend Philip Amidas anchored his ship at the mouth
of that bay upwards of two hundred years ago. The fish
there shall have a jubilee to-morrow. I am determined they
shall have one rest day in two centuries.”

“ Where's another good place ?” Lucifer asked.

“Find one, Lucifer; you have your eyes. But so much
for fishing to-morrow. Now tell me, friend, were you ever in
all the days of your life at a place called North Banks ?”

“Haw, haw!” laughed Lucifer. “It ain't but three mile
from here. Me and my daddy and mammy and all my folks
was borned and bred and raised and fotch-up there: so was

Comfort. Thirty years ago, or nigh on to it, me and Comfort

KATE WEATHERS; OR,

 

SCATTERED BY THE TEMPEST. 275

Come across here to live, and we're lived here ever since.
North Banks? In course I’ve been to North Banks. Pe

“Why did you and Comfort come across here to live

“ Why ””

. Co : why?”

. i 3 : :

Tooker Skyelake looked straight into Lucifer’s ean ; jc
face swelled like a balloon, and his eyes seemed to ro ates
And over as he repeated, “ Yes: why?” There was no ing
human in the terrible voice: that “ why” seemed to be z m ;
long. Tt started from the very bottom of peg Poy
“ame rumbling up and then stringing away out into t s a

Lucifer made two backward steps, staring wildly as he :
80. “T don't scarcely know why,” he said; “it's been 8

‘ long.”

“If you do know why, friend Lucifer,” said Socrates, step-
ping excitedly into the $e “tell him ; or I — you the
fishing season at this island will come to a sudden ¢ yt sie

Doctor Skyelake looked vacantly down upon the sti vi
Seemed to be deeply meditating. Then he looked up pr l
Cifer’s still terrified face. He had never looked so benevo - y
in all the days of his life. It was like sparkling er er A
the thunder-storm. “ Friend Lucifer,” he said, in the C a
Manner imaginable, “ I think you had better be ——— mre

°rt about cleaning and salting those fat trout now, a I brig d
© @ great pity for one of them to spoil. But I Malet aie few
help you myself, so that your wife can go about cooking

of them nicely for our supper.”

i d

‘That I will,” said Comfort, who was delighted beyou
measure at the happy turn things had taken (for she had —
sanding at the door listening to everything that had ye =
Instead of cleaning fish),—“ that I will ; and you shall say they
“re nice, too, when I have ’em smokin’ in the pan. oS

“T have already learned, my good woman, sal rs
Shy elake, “ that you know how to fry a fish nicely ; but p —
be as expeditious about it as possible, for I purpose going .
my North End after supper, and would be glad to have yo!

to accom an me.”

¢ rofound aan," said Socrates, answering for himself =
ba rest, “nothing could afford us greater pleasure. But Ww
Yu condescend to inform us what you are going for?

 

 
 

 

 

276 KATE WEATHERS; OR,

“ With pleasure,” said the doctor, smilingly : “to exchange
greetings with old and highly respected friends.”

“ Ah—yes,” said Socrates, looking puzzled ; “ friends of the
old day, no doubt ?”’

“You shall see for yourself, friend Socrates,” said the
doctor.

Lucifer and his wife got to the scaling-bench in advance of
the others. “It’s devilish hard to git the run of the old
feller,” said Lucifer, in a very low tone, to his wife. “He gits
from storms to calms the quickest I ever seed yet.”

“Let me have your scaling-knife, Comfort,” said Doctor
Skyelake, as he went toward the bench. “ Lucifer and I will
work here, while you are preparing supper.” He then, to the
great astonishment of Socrates, threw off his coat and went
to work in good earnest. And long before their work was
finished the doctor and Lucifer were chatting and laughing
together as jovially as if they had been born brothers. After
supper the whole party, including Comfort, wended along the
main path together to North End.

“Now, Lucifer,” said Doctor Skyelake, when they had
arrived at the Point, “ get ready your lightwood, and flint and
steel and tinder, and let us have a light.”

“ Where are your friends?” asked Socrates.

“On the other side of the sound.”

“On the other side?” Comfort asked, in a surprised manner.
“ What, away over yonder to Croatan? (Can you and them
hear one another.that fur ?”

“ Don’t begin talkin’ till I gits my fingers well down in my
ears so as to shut off the sound,” said Lucifer: “and you and
Socrates had better do the same, Comfort; for sure’s you're
born he’s goin’ to wake snakes when he gits well at it;—it’s
five mile across this sound to Croatan.”

“ Keep your fingers out of your ears, friend Lucifer,” said
the doctor, “for we shall do little more than whisper. Give
me the torch that you have lighted; now look and listen as I
hold the light up:

“Philip Amidas! renowned captain! Is all well? Speak!
appear !”

In less than two minutes after that question was asked @
light beamed out from the other shore, and a voice was heard
replying (it was a deep, dismal bass voice, that seemed to be

MPEST.

SCATTERED BY THE TE. ;
nd Croatan) :

coming from a point three hundred miles beyo
“Profound Doctor Skyelake !

“ Philip Amidas! renowne *

“ Profound doctor! We shall!” | \. Fenwelt

“ Philip Amidas! renowned captain Js of the Croatan

“ Farewell!” arose from the deep savor North End ;
wilderness, and came rolling over on the wa ilence, Collington
and then, after two minutes, of sole ad back the deep
Island, six miles to the northward, rumble disappeared.
bass echo, “ Farewell!” The light at Saale

a That—does beat—all !”” said Comfort, ” “d Socrates, in &

“ Profound and venerated philosopher, a expect to be
tone and manner of awful respect, | © Tae?”
Visited soon by the bold Captain Philip he renowned Arthur

“Not only by Philip Amidas, but by the re

Barl is wife and children.” have a
“ ign agi hear it,” said re eco} and
great curiosity to know something of tae SER

manners of those brave captains.”
“You will find them to be pl

more.” fore they comes ” said
ore they ;
“ Let me know a day or two ahead a bunch of ‘em,

and I
; ‘i be a right sma n
Comfort ; “ for there _ emp oe
d to Lucifer’s house, pik quite
Preparations were made for sleeping (for it bi # sapeolly
late), and in a very short time they W

asleep, ops) ae the tne
Sele little sticks were blazing and age ae aon and a

place, and throwing a pale light oer fe eo on the walls

Score of lank shadows were continually eet > i

around as the flickering blaze would rise

and his wife occupied the bunk in |

and in the corner diagonally oppostt

fireplace, lay Socrates and Doctor

Tush d upon the floor. ‘ had all
Cre iets sets five minutes since they ha

f the
. ss rx for the rest 0
Snugged themselves down In = pase was the three lower

. |
night before the old rooster, whose serag back-door, began to
vee ack-aoor, ¥
limbs of the cedar-tree that grew neal com he crowed, ab 1

——| in
ain, honest men; nothing

crow in a very shrill, loud sae Six t

 
278 KATE WEATHERS; OR,

tervals of about a minute (which was long enough for him to
get a reply from twenty different points in the neighborhood),
and then he dropped off to sleep again.

Socrates, whose face, during the time that the crowing was
going on, was about a foot and a half from that of his bed-
fellow, opened his eyes (he had not slept a wink), and, with-
out in the least stirring, ventured to remark, in a low tone,
“There is a vast deal of curious natural history in a rooster,
doctor, if it could only be got at. He is as regular in calling
out his Ad/’s well! at midnight as is the watch on board a man-
of-war.”’ But no reply came. Doctor Skyelake showed evi-
dent signs of being fast asleep in earnest; the lids of his eyes
seemed clasped and barred; a low, guttural, wheezy, croupy
squeal was breathing through his slightly-parted lips. The
squeal changed : first, into sounds much as when a wintry gust
comes stealing in through the keyhole; then into piteous sob-
bings, like the wailings of a banshee; then into spasmodic
whistlings ; and at last into roaring, lumbering thunderings.
No doubt the great man was fast asleep now,—no doubt of
it.

For a time after he had addressed him, Socrates continued
to lie there gazing admiringly into bis companion’s face. Be-
nevolence, gladness, self-satisfaction, played and danced about
with the smiles on his face. But after a while the thought
came into his head that he too ought to be sleeping ; he closed
his eyes while gladness and benevolence were in the very midst
of a cotillon with the smiles. The dancers began to grow
weak : one by one they took their hats and bonnets and passed
from the scene, until at last Socrates’ face was left all alone.
How blank it was by the time his eyes popped open again !
New actors now began to make their appearance upon that
face: Melancholy came and seated herself in the chair that
Gladness had lately been occupying ; then came Anxiety and
sat upon a footstool, and did nothing but gaze up into the face of
Melancholy ; then these two arose and walked around together,
silent, and with their heads drooping ; and at last they went and
sat, each, on the middle of an eyeball ; they folded their arms,
crossed their legs, and hung their heads, and looked as if they
intended to remain there all night. . Socrates, with a nervous"
twitch, moved his head six inches farther away from his
friend’s. Soon after this, Anger came stalking and swaggering

    

MPEST. 279
ork

SCATTERED BY THE TE.

i i went to W
on with a rake in his hand; and with this he went

i , : saps and piles.
taking up the skin of the forehead pi a png wee

The snoring seemed now to be cor a ale
Man's aoa it was heartrending ;_1t eT a bo
and spasm would be the last of the pro — ae
By this time Socrates’ face was asses 1 pore wont 4
® sudden motion he rammed both his ome net prepregs Po
into his ears as they could be got, and at on a eae
Over with his back to his ees ni ee volief that in

1s eyes, and tried to persuade —— Se ee ah!

those eyes were soon again wide open, an
the Opposite wall.

Lucifer and his wife, who had all t ime Mone after the
Closed, pretending to be soundly sleeping, ‘ Meir backs) and
Other, opened them (they were lying flat - ner ie of theit
turned them cautiously, without on paren
bodies, and looked through the corners 0 thet cao eyed: Were

ot a word had even been whispered, 2 en he conclusion

Carrying on a mute conversation that ~ Patina d
that it would be safe now to turn their hea

Whisper to each other in the lowest eye fort.
“ He’s a powerful great man !” sal aaeet
“Hanged if I don’t b'lieve he’s a witch,

oo These words
“You rig!” interjected Doctor Skyelake. (

Were said between two snores. ) : t had been

though \” said

Whispered in the bunk, was so star
lie!” that he went rolling over and ove —
Wheel, until he brought his face up close ne cite and
At the instant the words were age “ quilt over
Omfort, by an electric concert of action, = or etiiag: frome
their heads, and lay there still as mice,

eae to talked so loud,” at last Comfort ventured

to whisper right into her husband's ear. pau ne
But the only reply that Lucifer mains sve

” Then nothing but the snoring was coef single

Socrates, who found it out of the = sol the pen

Wink of sleep, arose softly and went to

r and over like a cart-

   
  
       
       
        
     
    
     
       
    
        
    
      
    
      
    
        
   
    
    
        
   
    
      
     
    
     
            
 
      
          
      
     
       
    
 
 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

  
  
  
      
     
  
   

 
    
     
   
    
 
    
   
    
   
 
     
    
 
 
   
     
      
 
     
       
     
      
      
     
    
     
         
   
         
      
           
         
  

    
      
  

280 KATE WEATHERS; OR,

and putting his mouth very
in the lowest possible tone,

was creeping up behind him with the stone-axe uplifted.”

“No marvel at all: for I had not then learned the art of
said Doctor Skyelake; and instantly the snoring

hearing,”
went on as before.

“ Lay down, Socrates !” whispered Comfort, in great alarm.
“I'm spectin’ now every minit for the island to bust open and

roll over !”

Doctor Skyelake made no further remark, for he was now

asleep in good earnest. Nor did he stir once until after the
sun had arisen. Then, as his eyes opened, they fell upon
Socrates, who was sitting on a low stool a few feet off, staring
into his face. Lucifer and his wife, whose heads were still
covered with the quilt, were then having their time at snoring:

 

CHAPTER XXVIII.

SOCRATES THINKS THAT HIS FRIEND MUST BE SUBJECT
TO FITS OF INSANITY.

“ Wuar have you this time, friend ?” asked Doctor Skyelake,
as Lucifer approached the house, lugging both a well-filled
basket and sack, and staggering under the load.

“Well, here it is, and it may talk for itself,” said Lucifer,
proudly, as he emptied the contents of the basket and sack,
one after the other, in a heap on the scaling-bench. ‘ There's
a bushel !”

“A bushel? Double the catch of yesterday! I suppose,
Lucifer, that none of these are Shallowbag Bay trout?”

“ The nighest that any one of ’em was kotch to Shallowbag

Bay was a full mile. There warn’t no spittin’ on the hook
neither.”

“ Where did y
school of them.”

“The fust place I stopped at was off against the Hummock ;

ou fish, friend? You must have sailed into a

near Lucifer’s upper ear, whispered

“ Did you ever know, Lucifer, of all
instance of such remarkable acuteness of hearing? I marvel

that he had not heard the brute Chickimicomocachie when he

from that I worked along down ps Fae
Sure’s you're born I felt oncommon Ball t Pint, an
Paddlin out o’ the bay; and on by a :
Stakes, and the new stakes, and everyth a see h
Paddlin’ too this very day! But then, 7

 

281
SCATTERED BY THE TEMPEST.

k.
‘ards Broad Cree

us sholy when I went
d the old
«| and I’ve done some
renga ere what's done.

ou said find ‘em, and here they is.”
s Friend Lucifer,” said Doctor sapere 4
right hand familiarly on the fisherman s we! “ be pile
est and most profitable day's work tha’ yn peti

fifty years,—and yesterday's work was nex! i.

esterday, and
Cause you caught half a bushel of fat trout on y' have

‘s ays you
& bushel to day, but because in these ai the full
learned to think. You started out this thi o if possible, and
determination to accomplish a certain © Tt. Casting Your
you have worked well and faithfully, con aan and bobbing
eyes about you, moving first here, then nd earnestness than
Wherever you might go Ne agiese ey here is a bushel of
you ever before bobbed in your life; ee thought. Here are
fat trout, the reward of honest labor = in a whole week, if
more fish than you would have caug Aa stakes. Probably,
you had tied your boat to any of those ri “takes?”
Lucifer your grandfather stuck those 0 «for I've heerd him

“No he didn't, neither,” said Lucifer ; that them stakes
Say, more times than I’ve got fingers and toes,

Was there before he was a boy.”
“Just so,” said Doctor Skyelake Ntiawe
One of the one hundred and eight pga oO
hay, it may be that they were stuck
themselves. But let all that be as it may, nie
—those stakes have been fished at times W

of m th not to the contrary.” sue « «put they’¥e
, Tac’. pen how long that is, wad ae

been there many a day, and lots has fis oh by its painter to
“T can imagine, Lucifer, that I see,

medina sips he d, your skiff;
One of those old stakes, and lazily swinging goes an crossed,

‘ nt
that T can see you sitting in the cage for a nibble!
and your eyes half closed, waiting by | A muskrat would

y, friend, such a life is not fit to live’ who can think ?
not be content at it! and shall it do for -. No partnership
It pays to think, Lucifer, as well as to et sod otion (Or
Was ever so successful as ~, of thoug

as he laid his
« this is the

«“ then it may be that

ts put them there
by the aborigines
hing is certain,
f the memory

    

  

 
 

   

282 KATE WEATHERS; OR,

Thought & Action, as the business man would express it).
Energy of thought is the life of success, and energy of body
is its chief engineer. But energy of body alone, or energy
of mind alone, seldom accomplish much that is worth the ac-
complishing ; they ought to operate together. New cider may
effervesce and burst the barrel that contains it. There is
energy for you; but waste, instead of profit, is the result,—
the. bursting might have been prevented. But the lack of
energy of both mind and body is the dead carcass of a dog,
that can only mould and putrefy, and become a greater and
greater stench. until it is buried out of sight. I said, friend
Lucifer, that you have done the best day’s work of your whole
life to-day, and it is so. You cannot yet realize how profitable
it is; but Ftell you now, that benefits will flow and continue
to flow to you from it, to the very last day of your life. To-
day is to bea noted epoch in your life, a memorable day, a day
that you could not forget even if you were to try. Hence-
forth you have a right to class yourself among the inventors
and thinkers of the age. Hereafter, fish where you will, and
in whatever manner you may desire. But, friend Lucifer, I
am curious to know what your course will be when you start
out fishing again.”

“T don’t mind tellin’ you,” said Lucifer. “TI shall go to
the good places that I found yisterday and to-day,—from one
to another till I finds the fish. If they don’t bite there, I'll
look about for more good places. I shan’t spit on my hook ;
and wherever I goes, I shall bob, bob, bob all around about.”

“ But suppose, after all, you should be unsuccessful ?”

“ Why, then, I'll have to come back home empty-handed.
But I'll go agin, and keep goin’ till I does git ’em, for they’re
there somewheres ; and, if they're there, I knows now how to
git ’em.” :

“You have learned well the valuable secret,” said Doctor
Skyelake, “and I predict that you will never hereafter want
for fish. To put out one’s hook here or there is not all, nor
does it matter greatly whether you spit on the bait or not.
The secret is, think, think, think ; bob, bob, bob ; and, if need
be, move, move, move ; and I say you have learned it. De-
pend upon it, it will be worth more to you than bushels of fat
trout.”

“TI do believe it!” said Lucifer, as he whetted his scaling-

: iit re t
knife on the bench. “I do believe 1t 1s worth mo

oi 283
SCATTERED BY THE TEMPEST.

han ten

ushels |”
“T have been thinking, most profoun

opher,” said Socrates, who had eer 4 «that the great Sir
Was advancing toward the scaling-béench, .

z From his
—— Bless me!” (This exclamation was caused f

instant
: : -spur at the very instar
having stepped his bare foot on a sand-sp Y yas prow ounced in

that he uttered the word “ Sir,” and “ Sir the “ Bless me!”
fro, Same exclamatory tone and“manner 2, Thy bled to
that followed it,—thus, “Sir! Bless me! 3 was ee
the bench as gracefully as one could be = Pastis
Sand-spur sticking in his bare foot, and, par 5 ich, awit with
it, lifted up the wounded foot on the oT aaa with what
Many grimaces pulled out the spur, then pr Tsaac Newton was
he had commenced), “ that the great cae that a great deal
Much mistaken about very many things, hen scattered when the
of his philosophy is as chaff, destined to The iéab toa had
Winds of time shall blow freely over it. a oe thé coh:
too much to say about gravitation, too id bout magn etism.
tripetal and centrifugal forces, and too litt! nt a Feo truly great
"ar be it from me to detract from the mer! ~ prin cs the
& man ; yet, without doubt, he shot his — dly is the cause
it went clean over the mark. Force undoubtedly

ilos-
‘ : at the learned phi
of motion, and great is the misfortune that fod, and then

* i. da per
opher had not, after saying that, dotted a Skye-
gone and ie the apple. "Do you not think so, Doctor Sky
lake 5 id il But itis
/ ” red.
“Certainly! Socrates,” Doctor Sky gernern se a word that

Wonderful how the doctor could have un s was speak-
Was said; for during the whole time that Socrate pe

itty scaling-
ing he was whetting a knife for Comfort on es ore he got
bench, and every ten seconds thumbing its edg
it keen enough to suit him. t man had
ng 3 quseehave” Socrates continued, “ that ve hee Sep gi
much knowledge of the nature of fC arti is a-great
hardly have been aware of the fact that t z in form,—holds
Magnet ; and that it is magnetism that keeps 1 is ”

pa —zgives motion to——
y together,—acts upon its inert matter,—s as he lifted a

“ Certainly! said Doctor Skyelake again, + eroindl
large mt Ate the bench by its tail and pecimae - belly
and around before his eyes, comparing the co

hilos-
d and venerated p
out of the house, and

   

 
 
     

|

   

PEST. 285
Royal

: : the
with that of its back. “Certainly, Socrates! I dare say no tember of L’ Académie Frangaise or a Fellow

ard \ 2 4 Comfort, with a puzzled expres-
: feller of what?” asked Comfo T've allus thought if

| HO 284 KATE WEATHERS; OR, ~* SCATTERED BY THE TEM.
Li
ih

sane man can deny that. Really, there is a great difference
in the colors of this fellow’s back and belly !”

iS aa Yi AS na TE. ee Ta ae ae

 

 

 

ae 3 i Slon upon her fi “T ain't a man ;
if if) Socrates, whose thoughts were more deeply engaged with _. Upon her face. eit -and-aft scunner
Hi , q | the subject that he had in hand than upon what the doctor rants mines gee - ty eh care
Sieee ee ei was saying and doing, continued: “The great Sir Isaac con- anything else in the whole Word. he bench, with
Fie ven fy ee = All this ti fort had been standing by the bene),
y BEE ie a a ai cluded, and very properly too, that the apple moved from the : ais time Comfort had b its head in her left
eee dee i branch to the ground by reason of a force acting upon it,—cer- er sleeves rolled up high, holding a trout by its d from
i: f g y g§ up ’ ' ; ne Sage ht. She had pause
i ie Oa aa tainly! There was substance—force—action. He was very and and the scaling-knife in her mg" cs hat she thought of the
‘} 1D ee correct in his conclusion that a force acting upon the apple — Work only to let the company nse e. and now she placed
4 4 Billi brought it from the limb to the ground; but then, to call that trp ortance of names; that had been hen over on its belly, cut
meee ee Pit. force ‘attraction,’ that is the point! Now, magnetism " off fish on the bench, scaled it, she 7 n down the backbone.
if my |) ea a “ Certainly, Socrates; certainly!” said Doctor Skyelake, om head in a jiffy, and split it 1 re the first word until
a It mo ft as he started off from the scaling-bench, carrying as many of “a rom the time the woman had u | and then cleaned
ines q if the cleaned trout as his two hands could hold to Lucifer, who, the had got through with what she or pe stock still with
ee i ee with his sleeves rolled up over his elbows, was stooping over 'e fish, Socrates had done nothing bu ly after she had
ips Deena ii the salting-tub, packing them away as fast as they could be 'S eyes riveted upon her; and it was ery had cleaned
) Hh { | brought to him. ‘Surely there can be no question in the :omesg that trout on the heap of ramerian't this time soft-
BM LEP 4 i a i world about that, Socrates !” at he slowly turned those eyes (that Fr son ‘4 the pile of still
i i Sai ii “T am very glad,” said Socrates, “ that you agree with me, — and lost much of their este ma take in hand
THe aa profound sir! but then I am sure no reasonable man could do neleaned fish, as if to see which er gkers hen he spoke.
4) ee i i ai otherwise. Attraction may be one thing,—magnetism — She took another by its se: or a pais well with
hae ; } “T shouldn’t guess it would make sich a mighty difference Really, Comfort, I was tempte he 8 ade for ignorance.
eae ee i 1 what names things is called by so it’s knowed what they is,” aed, but there are ener. a ce : [ think it full time
eee | said Comfort. “I know it wouldn’t matter to me what my Penosey however, refrain from saying tha bh sband and learn
1 Wind name mought be-—Comfort, or what not.” = you should follow the example of your mee out your un-
1 ! : «Then you think as highly of your husband, whose name is di think before you undertake so — se pins saying is not
ae) a a Lucifer, as if his name were Gabriel ?” asked Doctor Skyelake. ‘gested philosophy. All that you have from the subject
iar tet P “ Jes so!” she answered ; “for what’s the difference to me na exceedingly simple, but it 1s as far away
Vie | or him either? Some folks calls chubs welchmans, some agai S the north pole is from the south. Skyelake, « that simples
yi t calls the same fish black bass; some calls pikes pickerel, and ‘ aRemember, Socrates, said — p-3 proper to consider
SP by again some calls that same fish jacks. And so it goes,—some ae uce compounds ; it may therefore a ns ‘3 compoands:”
1 } i callin’ em by one name and some by another ; but var in ws a panies sate eager he come up to the scaling-
i i then? The eatin’ of a fish is what I’m after. Some ish I eats, bench » sald . ’ t and peering into its wide-
ae Hl and should if they was called devil pups ; some again I dont tag, and was holding up a trou bt in his throat, tail
EE i } | eat, and shouldn't if their name was chicken-gizzards. All > ie mouth, “this feller has gots pore Me « before?”
| i | | that about names ain’t nothin’ in my mind, Socrates.” : Hare Whe over waa a i ened foremost ?”
18 2 A dark cloud arose on Socrates’ brows. He was too indig- & yo why not tail foremost as we
Um | nant even to open his lips: all he did was to turn his unamiable ocrates. h dles
i i . i eee arp as needles,
i] . | i eyes full upon the presumptuous woman. ai Why not ?—because there’s et back a as sharp
i ie et | “Comfort,” said Doctor Skyelake, “you ought to be 4 Stickin’ up the wrong way ; thats Why:
i f tai i
| Hh)
|)
286 KATE WEATHERS; OR,

“ There, Socrates, is a subject for your profoundest thought,”

said Doctor Skyelake. “ How will you account for the trout’s
taking in the little fellow backwards ?”

“Really,” said Socrates, “I should have thought, before
knowing of the difficulty that the fins present, that big fish
would invariably swallow the little ones tail foremost from the
fact that the big fish is the pursuer ; and without question the
tail of the pursued is the first part of him that is overtaken.
Why, then, is it not the first part, that is swallowed? in other
words, how can the head be swallowed before it is over-
taken ?”

“JT guess maybe it’s sorter this way,” said Lucifer :—
“ when the big fish fetches up near enough to the little feller
that he’s after, he opens his mouth and takes him in; and, so fat
as he cares, it’s all the same if he comes in head foremost oF
tail foremost or sideways; for if he shouldn’t happen to come in
right, all he’s got to do is to wallop him over with his tongue,
and then he lets him down like he wants him. That’s about
like I should do it if I was a trout. Maybe this feller was s0
uncommon hungry that he warn’t thinkin’ about what he was
doin’ when he got the porgy in backards. That’s the only
way I can see into it.”

“Your argument looks reasonable, Lucifer,” said Doctor
Skyelake. ‘The trout opens his mouth ;.takes in the minnow;
closes his mouth; swallows the minnow. No doubt that is
about the way of it. Yes, if he comes in backwards, he wal-
lops him over with his tongue, and lets him down like he wants
him. I have no doubt that that is exactly the way of it.”

Socrates had evidently been turning the matter over in his
mind. “It strikes me,” he said, “ that the trout might manage
this porgy business in such a way as never to get one back-
wards.”

“ How is that ?” asked the doctor.

“ Look here,” said Socrates, squaring himself for the argu-
ment (but instead of looking here, or even listening to the argu-
ment, the doctor was making himself very busy tugging at the
porgy’s nose); “suppose pursued and pursuer to be in full flight,
and that pursuer is continually gaining upon pursued, until at
last he comes up within, say a foot of him; suppose then put-
suer opens wide his mouth, makes a desperate leap forward
clean over pursued (somersaulting in the leap), and comes dow?

 

   

    
     

a mga

SCATTERED BY THE TEMPEST. 287

With his open mouth toward pursued’s head. The genet
80 rapidly and dexterously executed, that before the yee
knows anything about it, or has time to change his course,
finds himself sliding down the big one’s throat. pape

No attention whatever was paid to these oe ye “a
One present; for Lucifer and his wife were so a an of
packing their fish in the salting-tub that they cow aber cot
nothing else; and as to the doctor, the nearer he go oud re
up out of the trout’s throat, the more intently — city
became in the job. Socrates saw this at a glance, an fe psc
glad that it was so; for now his active mind had —<— ite
better way yet for the trout to catch the minnow hea i “tia 7
and it was this, Let there be a mutual understanding . sme
two trout; they go swimming along at some gre : a
until they bring the unsuspecting minnow between tl poe
the two trout wheel, head to head, and one starts = nr :
driving the minnow toward the other, who opens pera
Mouth as the minnow draws near, which so ve ri part
now that he halts, wheels, and is instantly gobb ‘ formes"
Most by the pursuer. But nothing was said — Seah ha
method, for possibly a third and still better = proyeedivn
thought of by the time Doctor Skyelake should ge Pp
Out and be ready to listen.

“ Really,” said the doctor, as he drew the porgy em ar
trout’s throat and held it up by its nose, “ I can scarce phe
derstand how a trout can manage to get the porgy — rage
head foremost or tail foremost, for ~~ fellow made a close Ht,
Say nothing of his starting backwards.”

After the fish were packed away, supper was — “o
eaten, and then the party seated themselves at t . sh ge
for another good social time; for both Lucifer - ike
had lost all their dread of the great man, and = oan a
Very fond of his company. And it was ey eye pte
that they should lose their dread, for all day long = - or
lake had been as gentle as any lamb, and as genial = al 1%
a8 one could be. He had assisted at cleaning an RE
away the fish; he had chopped wood and made oF o pe
and more than once during the day he had taken t _— fess
brought it full of fresh water from the spring; and _ :
this, at leisure times, he had told several anecdotes, in su

: : rack
Manner as to make both Lucifer and Comfort almost ¢€

    
 

resea et aaah eee ees ——-— =

Se SS

        

 

  

 

288 KATE WEATHERS: OR.

their sides laughing : and they had got to believing that ghosts
were as nice people as living folks, if not nicer.

Lucifer sat at one end of the hearth and Comfort at the
other, and both were smoking their pipes. Socrates sat neal
Comfort, facing the fire, and gazing up the chimney-flue ;
Doctor Skyelake’s seat was between his and Lucifer’s; and he
did nothing but sit gazing from under the brim of his cap
(which he generally wore in or out of the house) into the little
bunched-up fire. “And 80, for a level half-hour, they all sat,
and not one of the company uttered a single word in the time.

At last Lucifer, who had most of the time been contem-
platively gazing into the doctor’s face, broke the silence by
asking that remarkable individual the question that he had
been trying, unsuccessfully, to persuade his own mind to
answer.

“Does dead folks think about the same way that live ones
does ?””

Doctor Skyelake neither answered the question nor changed
his position in the least; not even did he turn away his eyes
from the burning fagots in the chimney. He was to all ap-
pearance too deeply absorbed in his own thoughts to undertake
to burden himself with others’. It was not a minute, though,
after the question was asked before a strange voice, that seemed
to come from the burning chunks, was heard to call, “ Lucifer!”

Every one except the doctor started,—Lucifer half-way to
his feet, Socrates forward, nearer the fire; and as for Com-
fort, she raised both her feet so suddenly and so high, and
became so exactly poised upon the stool, that the weight of a
feather would have tumbled her over backwards.

No sooner had they all settled themselves right again and
were all gazing into the fire, than the same voice called, “ Lu-
cifer!” Socrates reached over Comfort’s lap for the wooden
poker that was standing in the corner, and with it he stirred
the embers about, leaning forward as he did so, and looking
in among them as if he were determined to find out what it

was that had spoken, when for the third time the voice was
heard,—

“ Lucifer, I have called you three times !”

“T heerd you every time,” said Lucifer, quaking as he
spoke.

“Why, then, did you not answer?”

 

;

  
 
 
 
 
 
  
  
  
  
 
 
 
 
 
  
  
 
  
  
  

 

289

SCATTERED BY THE TEMPEST.

wey =
“T allers likes to know who it is that's call th b pide:
stad said Lucifer; “and I've been lookin’ wit
and ain’t et,” : a
It's rt pk Blumudgin’s head !” said yer ‘
Sot it out o’ the pan to-day with the skimmer an bois
backside o’ the fire. It’s a wonder it ain’t got burnt up
Now,”
“Lucifer!” called the voice more solemnly ies gh
“TI should say,” said Socrates, turning his face aaa
from the fire toward Lucifer, “ that if you gente 2 ex-
Whatever upon your wife, fireside, or friends, or 1 vane
Pect evermore to fish for trout, Soe better be preparing
Mhake go: f an answer, Lucifer. pee
= What!” said Lucifer in answer to the voice in the ee
Doctor Skyelake started, raised his head se ayy 0 Bios
look under his cap-brim into Lucifer’s face, an be ee
utes at least he did nothing but gaze mutely. Luci —_ pei
fort, and Socrates started at the very instant the biceult cifer’s
because he did; and while he continued to gaze psietan ena
19es, they were all as mutely and inquiringly sorte, Se that two
brim into his eyes,—not an eye winked or bisa Locecblock,
rnten; apin might have ew — to fall on the
“ at ?”? % octor elake. 5
e. wk talkin’ to you,” said Lucifer; “it’s somebody
lere among the chunks.”
Lucifer,” said the voice in the fire, “ the great =e
°und man is about to ask you questions. Make jpn hake
Unless you desire to be brought here and covered with

Yed-hot ashes as I am!”
“ Speak truly, Lucifer,” said Socrates ; “ for, slay
tone of that warning, I doubt not the speaker is a eal cant
“Lucifer Grindle,” said Doctor Skyelake, “ te = y
Have you ever been at a place called North Banks ou
“There it is, North Banks ag'in!” said Comfort.
fon’ to oi ad |” :
tf Didnt se me that same yesterday ?” asked ie
, nd didn’t I tell you yes? Why, man, that’s where I w

bred and born and fotch’ up!”
“ Be civil, Lucifer,” said Socrates. \
‘ s :
_“« Lucifer Grindle,” said Doctor Skyelake, “ vies 7 why
did you come here to live? and who came with you
N 25

 
   

  
 
 
  

 
 
  
 
 
 
 

 

 
 
 

  
 
  
 
 
 
  
 
 
 
 
  
  

 
 
 
 

 
 

 

290

 

KATE WEATHERS; OR,

Lucifer made no reply, for a suspicion flashed upon his
mind that the questioner already knew the deepest secrets of
his heart ; he trembled as he sat there looking into his eyes.

“ Let it all come and be over with, Lucifer,” said Comfort,
in great agitation; “open your mouth and let it come, or it'll
come without your lettin’ !”

Still Lucifer only sat and trembled and stared.

“Seems as he’s deef and dumb,” said Comfort. “ J’U tell
you how it was.”

“Tell on!” said the voice from the fire.

“Well, it’s this way: It was nigh on to thirty- years ago.
She come and said there was money to be got by killin’ ’em.
He made b’'lieve he'd go and help to do the killin’ for a share
of the money, and he went and fixed to git the youngun and
bring it to me, and we fotch it over here, so she couldn’t get
her hands on it; fact is she thinks yet that Lucifer did kill it
that night ; but he didn’t, for what he was after was to keep
her from doin’ it.”

Doctor Skyelake sprang to his feet. He was amazed now in
good earnest. “Thirty years ago 2” he asked. But, without
waiting for reply, he snatched the knife that Comfort had
brought after sealing the fish and stuck into one of the logs
over the hearth, and stood holding it upraised over Lucifer’s
head. His eyes were now blazing with passion and his whole
frame was convulsed. “ Villain!” he said; “and it was you
that murdered the innocent child !”

“ Wait, wait!’ gasped Comfort, in an agony, as she fell on
her knees between the irate man and her husband ; “he didn’t
kill the youngun ; nor he didn’t aim to rob the man ; nor
to hurt him, neither. All he did was to git the youngun
away and to blind her eyes!”

Doctor Skyelake’s hand slowly descended to his side, and
the knife fell from it to the floor.

Comfort took courage, Socrates drew a long breath, and
Lucifer’s eyes began to contract toward their natural size.

“ Now you sees,” said Comfort, “why we come over here
to live; it was so she mightn’t find out that the youngun
hadn’t been killed ; for we knowed well enough if she should
ever find out how it was she’d kill it,—if for nothin’ but
spite !””

“ But you did kill it!” said Doctor Skyelake.

 

  

291
SCATTERED BY THE TEMPEST.

« ; it’s livin’ yet, I guess.” ious child
2 ice . Living! Oh, my God! Is IY Pree Doctor
still living! Oh, thank God! thank Go i tool, covered
Skyelake said these words he sank down on the stool,
his face with his hands, and wept aloud. He sat and stared.
At seeing all this Socrates was amazed. He ¢ his head an
The great and profound philosopher was henre that pos-
Weeping like any child! At last it ppp ts cis donee
Sibly he was subject to fits of lunacy ; and 7 Mai his hands
he arose and went and stood before him, ho se ee of the
behind his back and looking meekly down on the
old man’s head. eo
“Profound and venerated sir,” he said at _ 0
not but that cruel blow inflicted by the Ce ta of aberra-
micomocachie has caused you to be subject “st Permit me,
tion of mind; and no wonder !—no wonder, bunk yonder and
then, to suggest that you go and lie on — va Permit me
sleep; for I am sure it will be of benefit ad z ifer have been
to say that the child that Comfort and Tucifer i)
talking about could not have been yours ; ne 30

‘ were at least a
mind that the occurrences related by them death. Now, I

t, “1 doubt
f Chicki-

killed you had, previously to killing you, by what
yours aa you sae forcibly reminded of age Lucifer
has just been related. Do not then reper pee f. True,
With the savage murderer of your child an a sr of Lucifet’s;
there seems to be something dark about this affai

He interest in
but then, depend upon it, you have no individual in

ae ild he
this matter ; for I undertake to say positively pert:
Speaks of was not yours.” tes had
Doctor Skyclake made no reply, but as ree aly rene and
made an end of speaking, he arose and paced Tr and then he
forth across the floor for the space of msg payee ‘had been
came and stood before Lucifer (who, with the “d in a mild but
Silently watching every step that he took), Me man that you
Sorrowful tone said, “ It was a poor defence me innocent that
treated so cruelly, Lucifer ; it was a dear an bad, heartless
you stole away! You were the confederate of a pac,
Woman !”

4 after
‘ “he warn't
“Sure’s you're born,” said Comfort,

    

 
 

    

292 KATE WEATHERS; OR,

nothin’ but savin’ the youngun, which me and him did do. 1

hope you won’t git into a notion to bust things up, for that’s
the truth of it, just like I tell you.”

“ Fear no harm,” said the old man; “we will know more
of the matter.”

CHAPTER XXIX.

AT THE HEAD OF THE LAKE.

No sooner had Frangois and Jeannot awakened from theif
long and peaceful slumbers (which, as has been said, was not
until the sun had risen high on the next morning) than they
set about them to learn what they could of the place to which
they had come. ;

Frangois was now fully confirmed in the belief that he had
expressed to Jeannot,—that the course they had taken on the

night before was, by an inland channel, almost directly toward —

the island upon which they had left. old Basil. They were now
nearly at the extreme head of a great lake. Before them and
on each side were dense wildernesses. No signs of human habi-
tation were anywhere seen, nor was there anything to shoW
that the foot of man had ever before trod there. Behind them
was but the broad sheet of glittering waters, bordered with
marshes, and fringed with fields of green rushes. The shady
forest reached away in one unbroken stretch fifty miles or more
to the southward, taking in its scope Picture River and its
branching streams, and Pine Island and Beech Island, and
reedy prairies and bowers of cypress and juniper; continuing
away still beyond these, over miles and miles of dark solitudes
to other green bowers, and beautiful lakes, and reedy prairie
“Truly, Francois,” said Jeannot, “our situation is a most
distressing one. I cannot see a ray leading out of the gloom
that envelopes us, and I must admit that I am disposed to giv?
up in despair, when I think of the hardships and sorrows that
seem to be ever increasing and pressing down upon the Jady
and the dear children. Francois, I could not have bee?
brought to believe that any woman could have borne up under
such trials, and so patiently, too; but now, after she has grop

 

SCATTERED BY THE TEMPEST. 293

80 long in the dreary darkness,—when we hoped for light, a
darkness has but increased, and as I look into the starless
future, I am much disposed to lose all heart.” Sa
“No, Jeannot, no. I cannot think that you would despair ;
for I know you are no coward, and only a coward can nn
isheartened in such a case as ours. No; despair is the oe
Way that can be thought of to lose all. It matters not how
black the darkness may be, if our path lead through it, let -
80 bravely on. ‘True philosophy is, to be prepared for ills an ‘
reverses, even though the present may be bright and gin 98
4 they may not come at all, or they may come in suc
Shape or under such circumstances as to be easily overcome ;
or they may swoop down with the fierceness of the ae
tempest : but, let them come as they may, if we have —
Surselves to realize the fact that they may come, we wil re;
at least in some manner, prepared for them when they do —_
cod then, though they come with all their wild fury, they wil
Not sweep us from the path, if that path be the path of recti-
tude: aye, though their fury be such as to overturn moun-
tains, we shall not be crushed ; for the faithful, hoping =
fails not to have friends powerful enough to save him, be the
threatened danger what it may. When darkness gathers deep
around us, then come the demons thickest to assail us; but,

though they have advantages, let us struggle on, fighting =
We go; and fierce and powerful as they may be, they canno

°vercome us, or prevent our passing on through the re
Vale to the land of light and beauty beyond it. If we stop -_
wail our misfortunes, or if we turn back like cowards :
Y, We will but be giving advantage to the foe, who will 8 re
mockingly at our confusion, or harass us in our ignoble flight.
Speak not, then, of despairing. ‘The true champion had —
‘e than to utter that dreadful word, craven. The sentine
Who stands at his post of duty and dyes it with the last. drop
of blood from his heart,—he does not die,—he cannot die!
©annot, we fill a high and honorable position,—one that as
ave Voluntarily taken upon ourselves: we are protectors 0
the innocent and defenceless. Let us continue faithful, and
1 We must perish, let it be at the post of honor. Have you
Not observed how confidently the little children are looking
forward to a brighter day? Have you not seen hope in the
Patient mother’s face? Mother and children Jean upon us for
25*

    

 
    

 

 

294 KATE WEATHERS; OR,
support and protection, and shall we despond? Suppose we
despair? what, then, will be their case? I vow to the great
God who has brought us safely where we are that while a spark
of life remains I will not despair.”

“ Forgive my impatience, Francois,” said Jeannot ; ‘believe
me, I feel for the lady ahd children as you do, and it is only
on their account that I am at times disposed to despond; for
I tell you truly my life is at their service.”

“TI know it, Jeannot; but we can serve them better by
being hopeful and cheerful. Let us show them, by our ener-
getic and earnest action, and by our pleasant faces, that we are
working in faith and hope of a happy result.”

“T do believe, Frangois,” said Paul, as he came running up
to the tree under which the two men were standing, “ that you
have brought us to the prettiest place yet; we have all been
sitting in the boat admiring it, and mamma says it is beauti-
ful. I wonder if we could not catch pickerel here, as Jeannot
and I did in the Arcade?”

“T think not,” Francois answered ; “‘ the waters here are too
broad and light ; and, besides that, the fish here are no doubt
generally different from those in the Arcade. The very best
places for trolling are in narrow creeks, where the waters are
deep and cool and fresh, and shaded by overhanging trees,”

“ But why are not the same kinds of fish in all fresh waters?”
asked Paul; “ the waters of this lake are fresh as well as those
of the Arcade, and mamma says we are within twenty miles of
that place by the water-course.”

“ Fish are not of the same species in all fresh waters,” said
Frangois ; “and, although the waters here and there are fresh,
yet they are very much unlike in many respects. Here is a
large scope of water, every part of which is exposed to the
light and heat of the sun; again, although the scope here is
80 great, the waters are not more -than one-half as deep as
there. Here, with every rise of the tide, the brackish waters
of the sounds come rushing in; here, the winds having full
play, the waters are kept stirred and mixed with mud that
rises from the bottom. The Arcade is but a few feet wide, and
it is covered with thick trees; therefore its waters are always
cool and dark ; the creeklet is supplied by water that falls from
the clouds, and runs from the lands into it ; not a drop of the
brackish sound-water ever reaching it. Again, its waters are

 

SCATTERED BY THE TEMPEST. 295

; ver
impregnated by matter contained in the leaves ot ‘hts
Which they pass on their way to the little hogan <‘cahet
Matter changes both their color and taste. ‘nage % na
ifferences besides these, so you see that althoug ro cs Now
Tesh, they are not by any means the same in qualities. cn
fish that live in creeks and swamps are not 10 all pruer
those that inhabit broader waters; those xi nas +i feence
differ from those in the sounds, and there is a vast differ me
between the fishes of the sounds and those of the oer pit
®ceans. Then, again, those fish that live near the sur d those
ee those that: inhabit the depths 3 them, an
°F one clime are unlike those of another.

“Tt ts all very strange,” gaid Paul, “ and I ier ar
had never thought of it before, for now, since you a eons
of it, Fcan think of many things besides those 1% nit rose
Moned that are fully as wonderful as they are. ; oi cet
great many kinds of fruits produced in one clima' as agp
oe in another; and there are — animals be sas
‘mate that are unknown in another. Pyne .

“There she led different races of men,” said ten
& and all unlike in many respects, in color, form, size, poe
of face, ete.; the Caucasian is white, the Mongolian Z In
the African’ black, the American Indian ash color, em and
One place men are large, in another place of medium m8 “
another place still they are mere pigmies. sNeeere, creak
variety itself. The food that. is eaten in one Lene pares

© eaten, or if it could, would not support life, in a

he F or edible

pinsetcs Jon
“squimaux, who never saw an apple, or melon, :
Vegetable of any kind, will feast upon oil and blubber, while

the principal articles of food of the inhabitants of the ated
are fruits and vegetables. Now consider the wise prov! “ia
of God: fruits and vegetables are next to pee bert | tess
frigid regions, but the futtest of fish and animals aboun fi its
there are few fat fish or animals in hot regions, but te ] y re
and vegetables abound. In the coldest countries ay but
Provided with the thickest furs; in the warmest, they we ya
Ittle fur. So everything is wisely adapted to the he a
©onveniences of man, and even of animals to the very low

pee wherever they may be.”

” id
Poa Shall think a great deal of what you have told me,” st
aul,

    
 

296 KATE WEATHERS; OR,

“ You could not take up a more beautiful study,” said Fran-
gois. “The goodness of the Creator will be brought con-
tinually to your mind, as you will be continually discovering
how admirably He has arranged everything, and how He has
provided for even his humblest creatures, The cat and the
owl, and many other creatures that prowl at night for their
food, have eyes adapted to the darkness. The mole and other
creatures that live underground have but the faintest sense
of sight; and so those fishes that live in underground rivers
and in the deep seas ; but how acute are the senses of hearing
and feeling of most of these! But really, we must wait for
another time to talk of these things, for there is much for us
to think of and do now that must not be put off.”

“ Do you think,” asked Marie, as Frangois came up to the
boat, “that there is probability of our being followed to this
place ?”

“T apprehend no immediate danger,” Francois answered ;
“ for we are in an unfrequented and out-of-the-way place; and,
besides that, our pursuers passed up the river. Yet I think
it well for us to leave here as soon as we can do so, and for
several reasons, the chief of which is that we must, if possi-
ble, be where we might see Basil’s signals, if they should be
made.”

“I have been thinking of that,” said Marie; “but how
are we to see them, shut off, as we are, by the great wilder-
ness from a view of the island ?”

“T think,” said Francois, “ that, though shut off from the
view, we are at no great distance from the sound-shore oppo-

site the island. Hither Jeannot or myself must lose no time
in making our way through the woods ; for, be the distance
long or short, one of us must be at the sound-shore to-night,
prepared to answer signals if any should be made.” :

“T offer myself as a volunteer for that duty, Francois,
said Jeannot. “You must remain here; for here you can do
much more good than I could, while I can go and look out for
the signals as well as you could.”

Frangois expressed his entire willingness to go ; but, Jeannot
insisting, it was finally settled that he should go: so, providing

himself with the axe and sun-glass and some provisions, he

started off on his solitary way through the woods toward the
sound-shore.

 

    
      
        
         
      
       
     
 
      
 
      
 
      
      
    
       
 
   

SCATTERED BY THE TEMPEST. 297

‘ . before
Jeannot had not gone exceeding a mile on the way :

: : <; this
to his great joy, he reached the head of the little pear a
he traced along for about another mile, and then, su Mi

the broad sound came in view, and old Basil’s island was
efore him. . ing
._ When he had selected a place for his stand oe
night, he kindled a little fire and made the ger ee 9. nicht.
tions for answering signals, if any should be made Ss

CHAPTER XXX.

TE.
PREPARING TO TAKE THE OVERLAND ROU

- H een
THE sun was just beginning to gild the pgade sd as
Steeples that towered here and there above 8 pon
eannot returned on the next morning from t whe d for some
; Early as it was, the whole party at the Leper: they clus-
“ime been on the anxious lookout for him, and ae of havtite
tered around him and listened eet i. he to ie
received a favorable signal from old Basil. ar pe.
“Oh, how elad I am!” said Fawn. “Dear, dear Basil is
Safe, and has sent us good tidings !” :
«Glad, te ead Timon, “that he has been informed of
our safety,” 7
“ And glad,” said Paul, “ that we are-so near wa as
“And so near to the head of the little creek, Ph: r boat
$0ls, smiling; “for I think we shall be able to take ou
verland to it.” is?”
. ; ois?
a ki nus the boat a mile through this dense woods, Hrang
Sked Lucie, in great surprise. - inted
“ Be quiet, mae children,” said Marie, softly, as she pointe
to a cluster of sweet myrtle at a little distance. —
awn and Timon had gone there, and were rye ees
Concealed by the bushes; his left arm was around her ake
Jer right hand was resting on his shoulder ;*they ca es
Mg God for old Basil’s safety. Soon the softly-uttere < poss
Was ended ; then they arose and kissed each other affec

ately, and returned hand-in-hand.
N

    
    
       
        
     
      
      
    
    
    
   
   
    
     
        
    
      
      
    
          
   
      
  

 

 

298

 

KATE WEATHERS; OR,

“Come, Jeannot,” said Francois, “we have a hard task
before us, and the sooner we get at it the better.”

“ How will it be possible,” asked Paul, “ to take so heavy a
boat as ours a mile through this dense woods? I do not un-
derstand how we are even to lift her from the water to the
land. Is it possible, Francois, that you are going to attempt
in earnest to take that boat a mile through this forest ?”

“Good honest effort, Master Paul, sometimes accomplishes
wonders. Now, I do not say that we will take the boat
through the woods to the creek; but I do say that we will

make an honest effort to do so, and I think we have good °

grounds to hope for success. It is not everything that seems
impossible that 7s so.” .

The boat was then pushed on to the extreme head of the
lake, and the whole party stepped out on the shore.

“Now, Jeannot,” said Francois, “ the first thing to be done
is to build a railway. Take the axe and cut a dozen straight
sticks of the size of your arm and about four feet long ; also
cut and trim smoothly a half-dozen long straight poles ; also
cut a dozen forks four feet long, and sharpen them, for they
must be driven at least a foot into the ground. You, Paul,
and Timon, can go and assist in bringing the lumber here,
while I erect a purchase and make preparation for hoisting.”

The boys went with Jeannot; and it was not long before
they returned, lugging a long, straight pole.

“T know you are very busy, Francois,” said Paul, as he
laid his end of the pole on the ground, “but I am sure I

shall be able to work better if you will explain something to
me. »”

“What is it?” asked Frangois.

“You said you were going to erect a purchase,—what is
that ?” ‘

“The tripod arrangement lashed together at the top that I
have stood up there near the head of the boat is a purchase.
I have hooked a pulley-block into the lashing,—you see it
hangs between the legs of the purchase.”

“Yes; I see what you call a pulley-block.”

“Well, here is another pulley-block. You will observe
that each block has in it two grooved wheels that revolve on
iron pins; each block has also a stout iron hook at one end of
it. I am now going to reeve this rope in the blocks,—that 1s,

  

   

SCATTERED BY THE TEMPEST. 299

Tam oing to thread it over the wheels of the hanging wer
and under those of this block. Now it is reeved ; and Pe
pnd of the rope is the fall; it is to be hauled upon bs
hoisting is to be done. But go, now; for Jeannot 1s calling
You to come for the forks.”

The boys then ran off; and they, with Jeannot, =
turned, bringing their arms full of railway material ; and they
rontinued to go and come until all the poles and forks were

"ought and scattered on the ground near the purchase. ae

“Now,” said Francois, “we are ready to begin building
tt Tailway ; it will necessarily be a crooked one, for I re
that there are a number of big trees in the way that must I “
voided by running around them, to the right or left. I wi
89 on and clear the way ; and while I am doing that, J nesta t
You can follow along, setting the forks firmly, and placing t ne
Poles upon them. Place the forks in pairs, three feet apart ;
and as the poles are long and stout, you can try the pairs at
twenty feet distance along the track. At that distance aris
the six pairs will reach one hundred and twenty feet along the
track into the woods. You, Paul, and Timon, can follow
along after me, and drag the bushes that I shall chop out of
the track.” ? iD
All then went busily at work; and not a question was
Ssked by any one saa es had wot to the end of the one
pundred and twenty feet; then they all went back to the

oat.
cx There, we have a section of our railway,” said Frangois.

Now let us lay the rollers across from pole to pole. :

‘It would seem to me,” said Paul, “that we had better
“omplete one thing before beginning another. I suppose this
TailWay is to be a mile long; why not, then, cut enough poles
and forks and rollers, and 20 on clearing’ the track to the creek,
aa Set it all fixed as this section is, before we leave it?

‘I think we have plenty enough of forks and poles and
rollers to take our. boat to the creek,” said Frangois. “ But
ask no explanation now, Paul; for this is no light job that
We have undertaken ; and we shall have but little time to talk,
ho tse until we give our work, so far done, a fair test. I
‘Ope we shall cet welf’ on the way toward the sound before
night shall cian rng

Paul said nothing ; but twenty little questions stood side by

   
    
     
 
     
      
     
   
   
 
     
    
       
       
 
    
   
    
      
 
  
       
        
        
          
     
      
        
    
       
    
    
      
       
 
     
 
 

300 KATE WEATHERS; OR,

side in his eyes, swinging their arms and threatening every
instant to leap out.

Frangois smiled as he looked at the boy’s face. “Be pa-
tient, Paul,” he said. “ Your own observation will teach you
far more than my answers to questions that you might ask. 1
will say this much, however: our intention is to lift the boat
from the water upon the railway, and roll her out to the end
of the one hundred and twenty feet; then the forks that are
now set will bé pulled up and carried forward and set again,
and the poles and rollers carried forward and put upon them
as they are now; only two pairs of forks and two poles and @
few rollers will be left for the boat to rest on until another

section of the track is completed ahead ; and so, the same |

operation will be repeated to the end.”

“T should not have thought of that,” said Paul, laughing
heartily. “ It will save the cutting of a great number of poles
and forks and rollers; but would it not be better still to do
away with the forks altogether and lay the poles along on the
ground ?”

“ That would be much the better plan if we had clear level
land before us; but see what a thick growth of bushes and
reeds that we shall have to push our way through ; it would
be an immense work to clear them down smoothly to the
ground,”

“Yet, you will have to cut them down, I suppose,” said
Paul. “ At any rate, you will have to chop off the tops of

. them; and I should think it would be just as easy to chop

them off at the ground at once. Then, too, there would be _

no lifting of the heavy boat up on the railway.”
“ As to clearing the track,” said Francois, “a hundred and
twenty feet of it has got all the clearing that it will get.”
“Why, Frangois, the way is a mass of little bushes and

high reeds. You have chopped away only a few of the stout
est bushes yet.”

“ You shall see,” said Francois, “whether another reed of
bush will be chopped in this section: But come, Jeannot, let
us raise the boat on the ways and prepare to launch her 0
toward the creek. Get four pries; here are plenty of old,
dead logs that will answer very well for fulerums. I se¢

Paul, that you have a question at the end of your tongue
Let us have it before we begin the lift.”

 

  

 

Shall it ever be lifted up three feet on the rau

 

01
SCATTERED BY THE TEMPEST. 3
e water? How

way?”
“that brings us to our
fall-and-tackle, and to

“ How are we to draw the boat out of th

“Ah,” said Francois, smiling,
Straddle-legged purchase, and to our pepe &
a pulley-blocke, See the stout eye that " yore ill

ead of the boat; the painter is now tied in 3 depron
put it to another use. There is a stout ring KS oe Dee
Thave hooked the pulley-block to the eye in on «ae
Ne that you and Timon have sufficient streng
Ow of the bos n the land ?” o
“Why “Prangoee said Paul, “ you know well enough tha
> 2

twenty like us could not do it!” : c f
. ta us ni about that. Come, Timon, and take vaae !
this fall with Paul. Now, both of you = oe do!”
Yo-ho! Here she comes! Yo-ho! There, pit doe were
All the time that the boys were hauling panes stood
looking up at the hanging block (Frangois had ok 8 turning
them with their backs toward the boat), = rice | ing heartily
of the creaking wheels, and at the same time laughing
at Francois’s yo-ho’s. is, “while you
ona let pe hold the fall,” said Frangots, = ph se
look around, Master Paul, and see whether you @

7 hos m water to
have sufficient strength to draw the heavy boat fro

land.”
- . ¥ th had not
The boys were both pleased and mS pc pong e'

ma raised the bow clear . ry water,
ree feet or more over the land. + fst around
“ Haul the painter taut, Jeannot, and make It i hegre
the body of that little tree, so as to hold her beat on se undes
ease away on the fall. Then bring a roller and p
the bow, and I will let her come down upon It. on the roller,
his all being done, and the bow eased — cked on the
"Tangois took the hook out of the eye, hate dit to the ring
Tope, and took the block in the boat and — hs ed back
in the stern, « Now, Jeannot,” he said, ss on ing mee are
Yo shore, “we will haw away this time while
resting,”
Tn a few minutes the boat was high and dry 0 h
“ How do you think, Paul,” asked Timon, “t
ver be lifted up on the poles?”

“T cannot tell how,” Paul anes }

nland. |
at she will

“put I have no doubt

    
 
 
 

    
       
       
     
      
    
    
      
    
     
      
      
  
       
    
       
    
       
   
    
    
    
      
      
    
          
 
     
    
  
      
     
      
      
      
 
     
    
     
       
   
 

302

 

KATE WEATHERS ; OR,

 

she will be lying up there on the rollers in less than ten min-

utes.”

“Do you know anything about the lever and Sulerum, boys?”

Francois asked.
“ Nothing,” they both answered.

“ These logs that Jeannot has laid along near the sides of

the boat we will call
ing in place by resting them on the fulcrums and letting, th
lower ends come under the bo

Two of the levers are placed,

bow, and the two others at opposite sides of the stern.

you boys go to the ends of the bow levers and put your weigh

fulcrums ; the four poles that he is lift-

e

at’s bottom we will call devers.
you see, at opposite sides of the
Now,

t

upon them, while Jeannot and I do the same thing here at the

stern levers. We shall have to

ask you, Fawn, and Lucie to roll

those logs under the boat when we lift her high enough.

Now, then, all together! Heave-o !”

Then the levers were

pressed down to the ground and the boat was raised more than

a foot above it. Lucie and Fawn rolled t

he logs under, the four

pries were eased up, and the boat was left resting on the logs.

Then the children laughed until tears came into their eyes.
Paul, especially, was delighted, and knew not what kind of
antics to perform. “T do believe,” he said, “ that Timon and I
could get her up the rest of the way without assistance, We
would only have to raise the fulcrums higher, and lift one end
at a time.”

“No doubt of it,” said Frangois. “ But as we must work
now with all haste, we will all take a hand in it.” In a few

minutes the boat was lying upon the ways, ready to be launched
along.

“We must contrive to keep as many as three rollers under
the boat all the time,” said Frangois. “ As she rolls on off
one, it must be moved up to the front; and if we get about
nimbly, I think we shall run her out to the end of this section
without a single halt.”

“ But how is she to get through the reeds and bushes?”
Paul asked.

“They are very limber at the height of three feet from the
ground,” said Francois, “and will bend forward so readily
that we shall scarcely feel the resistance they offer. But

now! here she goes!” And away went the boat rolling
along over the rustling reeds; and in less than five minutes

 

      

303

 

ST.
SCATTERED BY-THE TEMPE

of the sec-
from the time of starting she was at the other end

tion : tion of
¥ E eye ” tion after sec!
After that all was “ plain sailing. See yht and now to

the ways was ran out, winding now to ig, erate under-
the left, so as to avoid the big trees and the had reached the
Srowth ; and long before night came on the creek ; ani
branch that extended up from the feed a hundred yards
When night came on they were not exceeding
Tom navie rs. ch for
try. cheng on to the sound shoe. 6 ee as
Basil's signals; and Frangois busied ay hildren—for there
Comfortably as possible apd and ¢ , *
e in during the night. : Pau
IVs. wate distressed about apie sence
Said Francois, after Jeannot had gone rd : - are not alarmed
“What is it that disturbs you ? Caen? ik wilderness after
at having to spend the night here in the dar :
Your lat ience ?” ing where
« No,” i fd. Paul “but I have been bt re baby
mamma, and Lucie, and Fawn, and aa 1 a bed of leaves
are to rest to-night. As to Timon and 1, ell for us; but
Under one of the trees would answer jong, 8 to lie on the
Shall be sorry if mamma and the others ha

ground.” little boy,” said
& Trouble not yourself about that, my dear le quarters not

Francois ; “for IT intend to prepare ecg When I shall
only for them, but for you and ‘Timon ae ollers and prop
raise the boat on an even keel, and chock t rill be almost as
‘er securely, you will see that your goat first floor of a
Snug and comfortable as if you were on the
800d hotel,” .
After much lifting, and prying, and proppin
the boat was made to stand securely and at
then a rude flight of steps from the groun j '
Made; the framework was put in place th ied
Over it; the moss-bed was spread peta was ial
nough quite a comfortable sleeping-chamber
lng . .
wd Sete Sees exclaimed. “We shall sleep like tops

“nicht ? hildren ”
. ndthe chi ?
“Tt is a rade arrangement, madam, for you a

e, and chocking,
ily on her keel ;
the railway was
he sail stretched
and sure
ly await-

    
   
    
     
     
      
    
 
     
     
 
 
   
     
 
   
    
     
    
      
     
   
       
   
     
       
     
     
       
      
 
      
      
     
     
   
     
     
      
   
 
 
          
    
   
        
       
      
   
  
  
  
 

  
  

were six or seven feet a

with poles ; on these

said Paul. “TI have no d

one, and I wish to see i
no boat-sail for a coy

remember that I will be under
and, besides that, I hay
near by my bed.”’

fire that I have seen to-day
the sun-glass; but I saw hi
hand as he went off toward
all the fire along with him,”

 

 

304 KATE WEATHERS; OR,

said Francois, as he descended from the boat; “but it is the
best that can be made under the circumstances. I will g0
now and prepare a place for myself.”

Marie and the children had not been in their snug resting-
place exceeding an hour before Paul called out from his soft
bed, “ Frangois !”

Francois, hearing the call, came and stood near the boat

and asked, “ Well; what is it that Master Paul wishes with
me ?”
“ Only to tell you,” said Paul, “ that Timon and I are lying
here covered with the skin of the great bear that you caught
in the log-trap. It is real nice and comfortable; and it was
very silly in me to be afraid of it as I Was at first, you know.

“T am glad,” said Frangois, “that you have got to bea
brave boy.”

“ But, Frangois,” said Paul, who was lying flat on his back,

and could not, of course, see the person whom he was addres*

ing, for he was in the bottom of the boat, and the gunwales |
bove the ground, “ what is to become

{

of you to-night ?”

“T think I shall rest very comfortably,” said Francois
“ My sleeping-place is under the thick boughs of a great
cypress-tree that stands about ten rods from here. I have
made a scaffolding two fect above the ground, and floored it

I have spread moss, tora down from the

drooping limbs of the cypress. I was on the eve of retiring
for the night when you called.”

“T shall be there to see you very early in the morning,’

oubt your bedstead is a very nice
t. But then, Francois, you have
ering as we have. Will you not be
cold?”

“T have no sail, it is true,” said Frangois; “but you must

the thick branches of the tree,
€ a great fire crackling and blazing

“A fire?” said Paul. “Where did you get fire? All the )

is that which Jeannot caught with |
m with the burning sticks in his
the sound. I am sure he took

a —

 

' 305
SCATTERED BY THE TEMPEST.

t
” : tas 6 vet I have a grea’
“That is very true,” said Frangois; “y

fire blazing near my bed under the cypress.

“ How did you get it?” asked Paul. Jain that now,’

“Tt would require too long to oa T ill teach yo
"rangois. “ Wait until to-morrow and I w ”
Yo get fire at night as well as in the day oo al after a consider-

“T will wait until to-morrow,” said penis i i
able pause; but I am sure that I shall cs made at night.”
Whole night for wondering how fire may - ” said Francois,
i Then, if it will cause you to sleep better, When Jeannot
T must tell you something about it isi e boat and get-
and T were rummaging under the bow 0 things that we have
ting out the old fall-and-tackle, and other da piece of spunk
ss using to-day, we found flint and steel and a p
about the si hen’s egg. ;

ee. ean ae 2” Paul asked, as - see. ‘
bed on his knees and poked his head pag Sy
“T never heard of any such thing 2 weet

“Spunk,” said Frangois, “such as cde me ‘the warty excres-
Corky substance, that is got by cutting in ad oaks. It is ex-
®ences that are sometimes seen on eg roar or mashed into
ceedingly dry and light, and may be iil cut with a sharp
powder by the hand, and it is as readily

nife as cheese.”

“ What is it used for?” asked Paul. kt

“Tt is excellent tinder,—the least spar tances, Very con-

indle ; it is therefore, under some circums se unfrequented
venient and useful. Hunters and travellers the spark, you
places are apt to have it along with them,—

° . 1? :
now, is produced by the flint and stee » said Paul
Hin y isa very strange cort of stuff, T eeppoees, hank yo
ze I shall see it for myself in the morning.
°F telling me of it, Frangois.” : : a out from
‘i Frangois,” said little Murat, popping ne
Under the sail, “won't you let me see wt aes
“ Certainly you shall see it, my dear lt se ve ephainl
Francois then went back to his place un vo soaned ean
nen little boys laid themselves down again a
Selves with the skins. if the
“ Will the boomin over to-night and drown us all i
nd blows hard, buddy ?” ne Murat.

’ said
u how

itd

d up from his
he gunwale.

ight-brown, i

hat touches it will

wi

 

 
    
   
      
   
   
      
   
    
     
      
    
 
 
       
       
   
    
      
 
 
       
       
    
   
      
      
    
    
       
    
       
    
      
   
    
      
    
  
 
     
  
    

   

  
   
 
   
     
       
 
       
         
 
 
        
  
 
 
  

 
 
a Sa e

 

306 KATE WEATHERS 3; OR,

The only answer that was returned to the little boy’s ques
tion for some time was a loud, merry laugh from every one of
the children (for the conversation that Paul had been having
with Frangois had awakened them, and they had been lying
there listening to it) ; even Marie joined in the laugh.

“ Why, little Bobkins,” said Paul, at last, and as soon a8
he could control his laughter sufficiently to Speak, “ we are
not at sea!—all that we should do if this ship should turn
over would be to tumble out on the dry ground! You have
forgot since you took your nap where we are. Our boat is
in the very middle of the high, dry forest, propped up on poles
on Frangois’s railway, and we have all got up into it to go to
sleep.”

“Be quiet now, dear children,” said Marie, “for it is full
time that we were all asleep. You will not feel like working
like a man to-morrow, as you have done to-day, Paul, unless
you get a good rest to-night.”

Paul snugged himself down under the bear-skin very neat
to Timon, and was soon sleeping soundly.

 

CHAPTER XXXI.

PETER MASHEW.

“Wake up! wake up, little Bobkins! Come here and see
me plunge overboard!” Paul had risen from the moss bed,
and was standing looking over the side of the boat as he spoke.
He was first to awake ; but now the sweet slumbers of every
occupant of the boat were broken, and there was no more sleep
for any of them that day.

“Oh, don’t jump into the sea, buddy !” cried little’ Murat,
in a great fright,—* don't jump into the sea, or you will be
drowned !”

Paul laughed, and the woods around rung with the echoes.
“ Come here, Bobkins, and look over, and you will see that we
are not in very deep water yet.”

Murat arose and looked over the gunwale; for a time he was
astonished at the boat's being stilted up over the dry land ; but

 

307
he

SCATTERED BY THE TEMPEST.

: before
When he came to remember the doings of the day )
too began lauchi heartily h
san Jaughing heartily. : ambered over the

hen one after another the children clambered

Sunwale and descended to the ground. : night
Paul remembered what Francois had told. him on the nig

5: s and the
before of his bedstead and bed, and about ihe et ec
fire, and about the great moss-covered cypress ; ke that he saw
he made his way toward the column of blue smo

Streaming up into the trees at a little distance nig ;
be thought from the loud laughing, that yo

off, p «“ Where is

e not far

> Paul,” said Francois. iets, Bee
] “What a nice bed and bedstead!” said Paul.
the spunk, Francois ?” ky?
ois 2 Re or
“ This is it. Take it in your hand; isn't : nae xa
ip off a little piece with your thumb-nail an
OW to catch the spark to it.” lacing the
. “rangois then whittled some dry ait 80 ata in
little piece of spunk that Paul had broken 0 te time the
the flint and steel and began striking fire. ks would fall on
"Asp was struck with the flint a shower of — ‘eee
the Shavings, and at last one fell on the spun i and in a few
ignited it, Francois began blowing this gently,
Minutes the shavings were blazing. as sitting near
Jeannot had returned from the sound, and pag from the
b © fire with Frangois when the children came
Oat,
“ Did you get news from Basil ?” asked awe were made
1 “No, “Fawn,” Jeannot answered; “no signa
ast night,” “ ean
: « Oh, dear me!” said Fawn, in a distressed tone, what
€ the meaning of it?” : il
? 4 at Basi
ye means,” said Timon, encouragingly, “ recip mete:
ha nothing new to tell us, or that he had not an Rie dear
to communicate safely. We must not be as hk we ought
“wn, and expect to hear from him every night ; ill act wisely,
to be as patient as possible; for no doubt he wi
and for the ver best.”” d
5 . ‘ . ays.
“Sensibly said, Timon,” said Frangois. “Tt a ee
nay, even weeks, before we shall hear from him a ion
It is best that we continue on the lookout, oes ae Fawn,
“ But it is hard to be patient in such a case,

‘

 
 

 

 

   

308

   

KATE WEATHERS; OR,

sorrowfully. ‘“T know it is best to be patient and hopeful,
and yet I am sure I shall be continually imagining that mis
chief has befallen him until we have the signals again.” *

“ Waving already had good tidings from him,” said Jeannot,
“T feel greatly encouraged, and I doubt not we shall agai
hear from him, and that before many days at most.”

“ Do come:here !” exclaimed Paul, who had gone around t0
the other side of the great cypress, and was standing near its
trunk; “ here are bones, and a board attached to the tree with
lettering upon it!”

Instantly the whole company hurried forward; and there;
sure enough, were bones,—a human skeleton corfplete. It
was sitting at the root of the tree and leaning against it. A
few feet above the bare skull was a board, which was attached
to the trunk of the tree with wooden pegs, upon which were
several lines of carved lettering. Greatly were they all sul

prised. “Read it aloud, Frangois,” said Paul, “and let us
hear what it is.”

Then Frangois read as follows:

Perer Masnew SHIPWRECKED Diep
Born a.p. 1705. A.D. 1739. A.D. 1761,

“Kind stranger ! forty rods to the northward you will find
my hut. Enter it: you will find a little tin box ; it contains
manuscript: read, and you will learn why I am here.”

“ Really,” said Frangois, “I had no idea that a humat
skeleton was resting beneath this green roof with me! Let u8
go immediately and look for the house and the little tin box}
for I have a great desire to learn something about this strange
matter.”

The whole company then started off, pushing their way
through the thick growth of reeds and bushes, and it was no
long before they came to a pile of decaying boards and logs
which was covered with a luxuriant growth of vines aM
briers.

“This,” said Frangois, “is no doubt the place, and the hub
has tumbled down; let us remove the rubbish, and we shall
probably find the box beneath it.” :

All hands set to work tearing away the vines, and pitching
and dragging the logs and boards this way and that, and it

 

 

SCATTERED BY THE TEMPEST. 309

Was not long before the floor (which was nothing but round oe
placed ieee side and half buried in the dirt) was reac : »
and there, in one corner, was found the box that they yeae
Search of. "The lid was made to hinge down and close ate
With a clasp; but now, after having laid there on the — oe
or so Many years untouched, the clasp had become pai ik
that it was some time before Frangois succeeded, in prying 11
off with his stout knife. The box was found to contain ay
of tolerably well-preserved manuscript ; mouldy : ng pig
Some extent it is true, yet so plain and distinet still t "3 " ~
Very word of it could be read without difficulty 3 T 7 po oe
Were writtén upon both sides, but the writing, which wed of
cuted neatly and in a round, legible hand, was, on one ” _ 3
4 pale-yellowish color, while that on the other side was 0
deep black. ite sides of the
Tt was evident at a glance that the opposite ays er the
< a Were written at different periods of time, and tha
Udjects were different. 3 : - &

“ Please go on with the reading, Frangois,” said Paul eae 3
We are all very anxious to know what it is about.” |

‘ No, not yet,” Lucie said; “ let us return to” he
where Mamma is . T am surd she would like to hear it. st

ollowing Lucie’s suggestion, they returned to the 5
Where they found Marie anxiously awaiting pag en
Then they all seated themselves on the grass near the i tl
on, and Francois read the pages that were written with the
Yellow ink, as follows: <ypress.

*T that lean with my back against the great mossy eypr t p
er PErER Masuew. Read these pages, ~ -o will have the
Sad but true hist f the latter years of my !ile.

“Thave lived in this wilderness a A.D.17 30,-rwenheses
Years! [y April of that year I was cast upon the ree ’
Near the inlet, which is about an east course from this place,
and not more than ten or twelve miles distant. I am the -
Vivor of. thirty-three persons, including the ship’s ¢rew “
twenty-four, and am one of nine passengers who were on ow
cae —— Rio Janeiro, in Brazil, to a European port, the name

Which it is needless here to give.

“OF the other eight passengers, my wife, one of the poh
and best. women that ever breathed the breath of life, pe
one; and my two boys—one ten and the other eight years 0

    
 

 

 

 

    

310 KATE WEATHERS; OR,

—were others. The other five had been utter strangers to u8
up to the time that we embarked together at Rio, in the early
part of March, 1739.

“TI have said that we were on our way to Europe. Out
home was in Europe, and yet it is needless to say in what
part of it; for friends and relatives there have long ag?
mourned our loss, and why should their mourning be Tr
newed ? ‘

“The storm that wrecked our ship continued increasing if
violence for six days. A terrible storm indeed it was; and ah!
sad was the ruin it brought to me! After the fourth day, the
ship, that had been under a severe strain for so long a time
sprang aleak. All hands worked manfully day and night, but
all to no purpose, for the water gained in the ship continually:
A large part of the freight was thrown into the sea, but evel

that did no good, and our craft continued to sink deeper and.

deeper into the water. We had some faint hope that we
should be saved yet, until the sixth day of the storm came}
early on that morning the coast appeared in view, and thenall
hope departed, for the ship was full of water and unmanage
able, and it was now but a matter of time with her, for sh@
must go to the beach, and wind and wave combined wer?
bearing her rapidly there.

“« My dear little boys clung to me and their mother, and for
a long time they did nothing but look up into our sad faces
and weep bitterly.

“Oh, dear father! dear mother!’ the larger boy would says
‘are you both going to die in the dark sea? Is there no hop?
that you will be saved and reach home ?’

“The smaller boy would cease crying and sobbing at times;
and say,‘ Dear papa! you are strong; can you not get mamma
safely to shore ?’

“ My wife would answer them for me, for I was speechles*
Her words to them would be something like this: ‘ Precious
little boys, we must all die ; but there are no storms in heaveli
and we shall soon be there.’ Oh, how she would press thet;
sobbing and heart-broken as they were, to her precious bosom!
Noble woman! though the winds and waters so raged aroun
her, she was calm, placid, peaceful to the last. :

“ We were in the cabin, expecting momentarily that the ship
would be dashed into atoms. My wife and children and my-

 

 

SCATTERED BY THE TEMPEST. 311

iif were embracing, (Ah, though the last, it was a sweet em-
brace ') My boys were calmer than they had been.

“¢ Arg you afraid to die, my boys?’ asked their mother.
No, they both answered ; ‘but, dear mamma and papa!
ust you both die too?’ ir
oe darlings,’ said my wife; ‘but let us all be resigne
to our Father’s will.’ | ie
ing _ Ate you afraid to die, papa?” asked the larger boy, look-
ME Up into my face and smiling sweetly as he spoke.

“T made no reply. My wife came closer into my bosom.
re looked up into my face, with an angel smile upon hers as
she did so, Though her lips spoke not, her eyes, I thought,
bord the same question that my boy had asked. My gd

*Y too was looking up at me,—there was anxiety In his
se cI spoke then for the first time. ‘No, my Laban:
ad and children! God knows that I am resigned an
muting to die !—nay, death would be my preference ‘if, by
lly j ing, you could be saved,—death is my choice if you
Me haha die; for life would be but a burden without

oul?

“No sooner had I uttered these words than the ship <
Sropped by a billow on the reef and broken into fragments.
out euaned by the crash ; but I came-to when my head oo
Out of the water. Still I was firmly clasping my wife an
children, We were then very near the shore. Oh, possibly
senisht yet be saved !—if not with all, I might reach *
= With one or other of them; but which one should it be
h Ching to them all; I could not part with one of them.

ad them all with me, and we would be saved together or die
Teeter. We sank apni ; and again I became unconscious.
ow long I continued so I know not; for when I came to
anne again, T was lying high up on the beach, with all my
limb family still in my arms. I arose and laid them—cold
= hi as they were—side by side on the sand, out of reach 0
i billows. “Oh how rejoiced I was! for J was alive, and
hehe they not also? But they stirred not. I rubbed them ;

ae them, one by one, again and again, and pressed them to
sa bosom,—it was warmer than theirs,—but they breathed
ee their beautiful heads drooped still! I became crazed ;

“ then I remembered the calm, sweet face of my wife oe

© Were cast into the sea, and in my agony I resolved that

6

m

ar RR

    
  

   

SS

 
$F hia 22>

 

 

  

312 KATE WEATHERS; OR,

would be calm too. Again I took upon my bosom my deaf
ones, one by one, and rubbed them, and breathed into thelf
mouths, and tried every means that I could think of to ™%®
suscitate them. Still they continued cold; still they drooped
and hung limberly as I lifted them to my bosom,

“For hours I sat there with them hoping,—aye, hoping fot
hours. The shades of evening came gloaming over the desolate
coast ; still I sat there on the sand hoping,—hoping now against
hope. The deep blackness of night settled around me. © I raised
the three loved heads higher upon my breast, and held thet
all together within the circle of my arms. I strained my eye
trying to see the precious faces; but the darkness was t0?
deep for that. Then I screamed; raved; called their nam@
aloud ; but even my own voice was but faintly heard by myselh
Then I became calm again,—madly calm,—yet still gazing
gazing, gazing down toward the faces that were resting up
my bosom. They could have been seen as well if I had bee?
stone-blind,

“ At last that long night passed; and as the day began #
dawn, I caught a faint glimpse of my sweet faces. Oh, hoW
I screamed and yelled for joy! But the joy passed when the
light of day came, and I realized for a certainty that wife and
children were dead, and that I was their survivor. They, @
gone !—I, alone!

“The instant I realized the terrible truth (for I had no!
suffered myself to believe it before) I became again cal™-
Ever since that instant I have been calm,—calm! So cali
that I myself have wondered a thousand times why it was
that I continued to be so calm; but no answer has ever come
to my wondering question,—it is unanswered yet; and as I
write this I am calm, though I feel that death is near, reach
ing his hands for me.

“The storm lulled; the rude dwellers on the coast cam?
near me, and saw me sitting there on the sand quietly, hold-
ing my dear ones in my arms. Sometimes they would group
around me. Many a terrible frown was cast upon me; many
a vulgar jibe—many a loud laugh was heard; but I 4
silently, fearlessly looking upon them. They knew I fearé
them not! I saw them, after they had looked at us enough
Scatter away about the hard beach. I watched them as they
walked up and down, gathering up the things that had wash

 

 

SCATTERED BY THE TEMPEST. 313

 

ashore from the wreck, and that were still continually coming
©n with the waves.

“They had forgotten me and mine: they passed age’
Passed, searcely once looking toward us. Gradually oe
yoved farther and farther away down the beach, for t ey
had Secured all that was near me, and were ni ng
Current, that was bearing southward and beaching the ing:
ments of the ship, and bales and packages, all along for 9 es
and miles away. And miles and miles away from us t 5
Passed. JI watched as long as I could see them, but to me a
se blank,—a senseless show of moving figures that gee
&sted me not. I looked merely because my eyes must Tes
Somewhere, a

“The day had almost passed again, and still I was won
there as T had been for twenty-four hours past. I had = le
© calculations, arranged no plans of action whatever. Twi-

Sht began to gather again around us, then I saw the figure of

i ing; i e rough
* single human being approaching ; it was one of thos gh,

Weather-beaten men like I had seen many of in the eps |
© came and planted himself a few feet before us, and loo ;

Straight into my face. I gazed as straight back into his. F

Would not have flinched had he drawn the knife from the

Sheath at his side and plunged it into my heart. No ;, I was

Calm still! g ee

«How long, crazy fool, are you going to sit here in th

Way? he asked, oma Ain't you hungry? Don't you

Want me to bury these for you ? ‘

. | spoke for the first time. ‘There seemed to be sympathy

im the rough tones. ‘Clan you show me, friend,’ I asked, ‘a

pot that T can go to where human eyes will never again be-

hold these or me?’ ;
“*No trouble about that,’ he said; ‘they can be gs

and if you will sit here a spell longer you'll starve, an

then there will be a chance to bury you deep, too. T guess

ee ne won't take the trouble to dig down to look at any 0
u.
“TI remained silent for a time, and then I repeated the

Question,

I ‘Yes, yes,’ he said, with a laugh; ‘if you want to hide,
sess I can p’int you to a place where it would be a job to
” Fs even if any one should take a notion to look,—

27

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deep ;
  

 

 

 

    

314 KATE WEATHERS; OR,

which nobody wouldn’t do
you is.’

“Ts that place far away?’ I asked.

“¢Qh, no,’ he said; ‘I.guess I can run to it in my cunner;
with this wind, in an hour or such a matter. Ha, ha! if
you want to go to a place where nobody won't never see you
no more, that’s it.’

“¢ Will you take me there?’ I asked.

“ «Take you there !’

“Yes; I have the means to pay you for your trouble.’

“*You'd better go to my house with me,’ he said; ‘and
not be sich a fool as to want to go and hide from everybody;
or to stay here and starve, either.’

“Will you not take me there?’ I asked again.

“ «Why, yes,’ he said, after a moment’s consideration ; I
guess I'll ‘commodate you; but you'd better stay. Body§
Island is a lonesome enough place most of the time. All
these folks that you've been seein’ to-day lives way up the
beach yonder, in the woods ; they don’t never cross the inlet
to come over here, ’cept when there’s a wreck, like there 18
now. They'll be comin’ over now for two or three days longets
or until everything is picked up, and then maybe they wont
be back in six months. If you're after getting into ‘a lone
some place, go into one of these old hulls, and I think it'll do
for you.’

“«Here is money,’ I said, taking a handful of gold out of
my pocket ; ‘take us to the place you spoke of; take all this
money, for I shall have no further need for it.’

““* When do you want to start?’ he asked.

“* Now.’ :

“Now! It is night, near about! I can find a shelter for
you to-night, and we can run over soon to-morrow.’

“*No,’ I said; ‘now!’

“He seemed to consider a moment. ‘It’s goin’ to be dark
to-night! There'll be work to do, too, before starting ; we I
have to bury these dead ones f :

“<No! said I; ‘ these-will go with me; they are my family;
and I shall never be separated from them.’

“* Les be off, then,’ he said; ‘ for it’s about night now, and
it’s a mile over to the cunner,’

“<Tn what direction from here is your boat?’ I asked, as I

 

 

 

  

, cept it should be as big a fool as

 

SCATTERED BY THE TEMPEST. 315

  

 

Strugsled to m

y feet, still holding all my precious ones in my
arms,

She’s in the inlet, about a mile to the no’th of us. If

all these is to go, let me have the ’oman and one of the boys

0 tote. I guess T can git along through the sand with ‘em

peter than what you can. You can take the least boy, can’t
ou?’

P ‘T will take them all.’ . 3 ded

‘Man, you can’t do it!’ he said; ‘you've never wade
Doh in sand like this, I guess.’ boat
exe : Ne take them,’ I said ; ‘go on ahead, and get the boa
eadiness ; I will be with you soon.’

“ He went on. I placed little boys on my shoulders,
their heads hanging upon my back; then, clasping my arms
around their legs and my wife’s body, I arose again to my
feet, after several efforts, and went on. Slowly, and with tot-
tering steps at first, for I was cramped and stiff, but still I
Went on. Not once did I halt until [ had reached the boat,
and carefully and tenderly laid my treasures side by side in its
bottom, Then I felt that I had lost the power to breathe,
after the violent exertions that I had made. In this state I
was as I kneeled near my wife and smoothed her long dark

“ur from her face. I am sure I breathed not once for several

Minutes. I heard the man drawing the anchor and spriting

the Sail, and shipping the rudder; then I heard the —
pt across the thwarts as he drew away upon them; but
ear

side. we, More: for I was now lying senseless at my wife’s
a one of my hands still resting upon her cold fore-
} But even this was not death for me, for I revived in time
<0 hear the sounds made by the boat’s bottom scraping on the
sete? and the rattling of the bow as it went pushing into the
1 at the shore to which we had been aiming. At first
new not where I was ; but in a moment the recollec-
that Me the recent past flashed upon my mind, and . —
her f, Was at the side of my wife. I raised my han _
of & orehead, reached it over her, and placed it on the heads
«St One, then the other of my boys. We were all there.
«« ie you dead ?’ *the man asked.
Ps. Ses this the place ?” at. i :
Yes; this is Croatan. Are you still in a mind to ge

  
     
      
      
  
       
    
    
     
 
       
 
  

 

     
      

 

 
  
     
    
   
       
    
    
   
  

 

 
    
      
     
     
           
     
     
    
       
      
     
 
      
    
  

  
    

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316 KATE WEATHERS; OR,

out? If you starts back into this woods, like as not you'll
never come out no more! S'posen we goes back ?’ :

“«T will get out, I said. Idid get out. Never has #
been darker than it was that night. I tore up armsful of
the rushes and grass and made a bed of it in a dry place, #
few feet from the boat's bow; then, one by one, I took my
wife and children in my arms and carried them out of the
boat and laid them on the rush-bed that I had spread for them.

“<¢Tf you'll go back with me,’ said the man, in a tone of
pity, ‘I'll fix a place for you to stay at. his ain't no place
for a human cretur to undertake to stay at. You won't live
a week in here !’

“¢ The place suits me well,’ I said.

“¢ Well,’ he said, ‘if you will stay, here’s a skiff you may
have. I’ve towed it over for you; maybe you'll git in ®
notion to come back to the beach, and she'll do for you
come in. When it gits light enough you'll see that you ain?
far from the mouth of a little creek. I’ve put in the ski
for you fishin’-tackle, a knife, an axe, tinder-box, flint aD
steel, a piece of old sail, some rope, some cooked wittles that
I’ve had in this boat all day, and other things. Do what
you're a mind to with ’em.’ 4

“Then I heard his sails flapping, for he was shoving hi§
boat out and turning her around towards the coast. Faintet
and fainter became the noises made by the boat as she pass
away ; then all was still except the rustling of the rushes, th
sighing of the wind through the trees, and the sound of wav®
dashing to shore. ‘

“T knew that I could not make my way into the dark wil
derness at night with the heavy burden; so I sat down 0
the rush-bed, and remained there without closing my eyes
uttering a sound until the light of day broke around me-
had intended that as soon as the day should dawn I would ge
up and go away back from the shore; so, when it got lig
enough to see anything, I arose for the purpose of carryi0é
out these intentions. But it was too dark yet; I should or
by waiting; so I sat down again to wait until the light shoul
find its way in under the thick branches. But almost
stantly, after taking my seat, I fell into a deep sleep, fro™
which I did not awake until the sun (which was now in a cle
sky) was sinking low in the west. Again I rose to my feet

 

    
 

 

317

 

SCATTERED BY THE TEMPEST.

DOW all before me was distinetly visible. There, a few feet off,
trey Sound-shore ; away yonder across the water were the
Sreat hills of sand on the coast, glittering now in the light of
~ Sinking sun. On my left hand as I stood was a sandy bluff,
n my right the mouth of the ereek, and before me the skiff
tpt T had forgotten about, tied to the shore. I stood on my
ip-toes and looked over the sedge into it, and there were the
+e, the fishing-rods, the paddle, and other things. Instantly
T changed my plans. I would paddle up the creek in the
Skiff; and after I had gone as far as she would float, I would
Set out on the land and make my way farther back on foot.
0 time was to be lost, for night would soon be at hand
88aln ; so, after placing my wife and children in the skiff, I
Sot in, paddled into the creek, and came on until I got abreast
of the tree under which I am sitting. Then again I changed
1'Y mind ; for here already was a place that the foot of man,

Was sure, seldom or never trod; it was weird and dreary in
the twilight then, and, oh, what a strange gladness thrilled
my heart that I had come to such a place !

, There I sat in the boat until the coming of another day.
Early in the morning I stepped out on the shore, tied the skiff,
re eiea family out, and brought them, one after another, and
laid them side by side at the very spot where I am now dying.

en, after breaking off a number of mossy branches from
tre tree and placing them over my loved ones, I went back to
ie place where my hut now stands in search of a new resting
pisee, for I thought if I should remain so near the creek-

‘ ore some one might stray that way and discover me, and I
Th determined to avoid the sight of men evermore if possible.

ms Spot suited me. TI gathered moss and made a bed of it
— Some trees; then returned to the place where I had
aid, my wife and children, and carried them and laid them

n by side on the moss-bed.
and All that day I did nothing but sit and look upon —
wh ie night I laid down beside them and slept soundly ; -
I bed Tawakened again I felt exceedingly faint and hungry, for
Wi ad not tasted food for three days. My first determination
on ‘o remain there and die, but the craving for food overcame
Baty - Tarose and, after covering my dear ones with branches,
before v % the skiff, and there discovered what I had not

°re observed,—a covered bucket containing bread and meat

27*

  
 
       
         
       
     
     
      
        
       
       
 
    
        
  
     
      
      
        
    
        
 
    
       
    
 
       
     
     
    
        
      
     
    
 
     

 
  

 

 

 

 

318 KATE WEATHERS; OR,

and fish ; of this I ate heartily, and after that I felt stronger;
happier !

“For weeks together my life was to sit by my dear ones
and watch, day and night; never sleeping during the night,
and always, when day came, lying down beside them and sleep-
ing until afternoon; then I would go catch some fish out of
the creek and eat them raw.

“ Gradually the bodies changed their appearance ; gradually
the flesh began to fall away from the bones. In time there
were but three skeletons lying there side by side; yet, night after
night for a whole year, I sat and watched by them; for deat
were those green, mouldy bones to me. Storm and rain and
lightning, winter with its ice and snow, spring with its greet
and flowers, summer with its hot breath,—all these came upoB
me one after another; still, through the nights, I sat upod
the bed of moss by my precious ones and watched.

“ Exposure and the hard living, instead of injuring me
seemed to give me new life, and I began to feel stronger;
bodily, than I had ever before felt. The bones were moulder-
ing sadly. Would death delay his coming for me until after
they should crumble and mix with the dust? It came into
my mind to build a shelter over them. So I took my axe and
went earnestly at the work. The logs were notched and put up}
the roof was raised, but those bones were not once disturbed}
not an inch have they been removed from the place where I
at first placed them. They have been quietly lying there for
more than twenty-two years.

“Kind stranger, you may ask me, Why did you come here
to die under this cypress? Why did you at last leave your
dear ones? In the hope, I answer, that you would chance t0
see my bones sitting here, and that you would take them back
and put them beside my loved ones; then raise a rude mound
over us all. Do this, and the great God in heaven will bless
you for the kind deed!” ~

 

vik:

SCATTERED BY THE TEMPEST.

CHAPTER XXXII. .
FRANCOIS READS THE DIARY.

Wi Tne attentive listeners that were grouped near Frangois
oe deeply affected at what they had heard him read. Tears
Pant Streaming down the faces of some of them; and as to
Rie he leaned his forehead against the tree and sobbed

+ Did you see an thing of the bones of the poor man’s wife
and children 9” os Maric. & Possibly, bas @ they have
died led into dust, for it has been a long time since they

ac We saw no bones,” said Jeannot; “but we had cleared
Fr. rubbish away from only a small part of the floor when
“wn discovered the box. I have no doubt some of them
priv yet be found; for although it has been a long time since
°y died, y et, during much of the time, they have been under
Shelter.” s )
Pan a et us Proceed forthwith,” said Frangois, “ to perform -
bo uty. Go, Jeannot, and bring three thwarts out of the
a nt, While T prepare a frame for the bier, to take the skeleton
Way upon.”

: .
a What kind of frame will you prepare ?” asked Lucie.
ae Very rude one,” said Frangois, “ for we can prepare no
my ee little poles with the thwarts laid upon them.
ton ’ boards were brought and put in place; then the skele-
he's Poor Peter Mashew was laid upon the rude bier, and
silent. ® men bore it on to the hut, followed by all the rest in
PUt doe ssion- Upon arriving at the place the bier was
«Py and the rubbish was thrown off the log floor.
act] Here are the bones !”” said Jeannot, “lying, no doubt, ex-
Ay os as the bodies were laid when the flesh was upon them.
side ae fraid that the fallen logs had crushed them, but this
light the hut seems to have fallen outward, and only the
spe of has come down over them. The moss-bed has dis-

“PPeared ; but, see! the spot occupied by the bodies has never

   
     
     
       
      
     
             
      
 

 

 

 

 

 

   

 

 

320 KATE WEATHERS; OR,

been floored,—they were not disturbed even to be placed upo®
a floor. Here are the bones of mother and sons; their heads
were no doubt on the same moss pillow. How sad was theif
fate!”

“ How the kind father loved his wife and little boys !” said
Lucie. “Oh, I am so glad that it has fallen to our lot to bring
that dear father and place him at the side of his loved family!

The bones of Peter Mashew were then laid along at the
right side of his wife, and his left arm was so arranged as 1
have resting upon it the heads of his wife and both his boys:

“Shall we now cover them, madam ?” asked Frangois, ad-
dressing Marie.

“ Let each of us first drop upon them a sprig of this beat”
tiful green juniper,” she said; “then they may be hid from
view, and we will leave them alone in their silent resting-place-

All were pleased at the suggestion. The green sprigs wel?
brought and dropped upon the bones ; logs were laid along and
covered with the old boards ; then a mound of dirt was throw?
upon them and rounded over smoothly, and the party return
to their boat.

“Mamma,” said Paul, who was holding his mother’s hand
as they returned, “ where do you think Peter Mashew got the
little tin box, and the paper and pen and ink ?”

“T have been asking myself the same question,” she replied.
“Tt cannot certainly be told, of course, where he got them;
but I believe it has long been a custom with gentlemen wh?
travel about the world to carry such things about their pe
sons, 80 as to be prepared at all times to jot down memorand@
of interest to them. Probably Mr. Mashew brought thes
from Rio Janeiro for that purpose. This box was certainly
well suited to such a purpose, for it might be conveniently
carried in a coat-pocket, and the paper in it could be kept
smooth and unsoiled. As to pens, they may be had anywher®
for quite a good pen may be made of a hard reed or stick. Th@
greatest difficulty about the matter, in such a place as this, would
be, I should think, to obtain writing fluid of the proper sort.
You will observe how pale and yellow these pages are that
Frangois has just read: no doubt the ink was of a very il

ferior quality ; in all probability it has changed from black .
purple to its present color since the writing ; and no doubt!
it should be exposed to the strong light of the sun for a feW

 

321

 

SCATTERED BY THE TEMPEST.

hours, the writing would fade out and leave the pages entirely

blank ; hay, it is probable that if the papers should be often

= from the box to be read, all trace of the ink would dis-
Ppear in a very few years.”

“T have no aedhh manos,” said Frangois, “but that you
are correct in everything that you have said. Here, in a
of uct of the box, is a place for a pen; and this little apartment,
of the dimensions of a cubic inch, where the lid hinges, must

‘ve been intended to contain ink. This yellow fluid was
made, I should say, of the acid juice of some vegetable that
Stows here in the forest. No doubt the pages that I have
not yet read were written first, and on shipboard ; for they
ire of good black ink, and seem to be in the style of a diary.

‘may be that they give some account of the voyage before
_ coming on of the storm, and throw further light upon the
aoe of the man and his family.” wea 3

- Please read those pages to us, Frangois,” asked Lucie.

“Yes,” said Paul, “we will all sit down here by the boat
and listen, and after you get through we will all be ready to
8° to work. It will not delay us long.”

Frangois, who was as desirous to know the contents of the
si te the rest, oe opened it and read : - ~

“ March 2, A.D. 1739.—Left Rio de Janeiro this morning
at eight. o'clock. Bright skies; fair, light breeze. Beatrice
Joyous at the prospect of soon meeting with dear relatives and

"lends at home after a two years’ absence,— Beatrice, though,
> God bless her !—is always joyous. Ned and Harry have

om romping over the cabin ever since we have been on board ;

ciey fre happy little fellows. God grant that we may have a
quick and pleasant voyage | :

~ March 3.—Little Harry sat to-day for hours near the tiller,
ard watched the great shark that followed in the wake of our
WP: One of the passengers asked Ned this morning if he
Were not afraid to sail out on the broad ocean. He answered
Typmptly in substance as follows: ‘I am not afraid, nor would
hap “3 storms were to arise; for God is able to save us one
bec ard the wind may blow, and however deep and dark an
stout the sea may.be.’ ‘ But,’ said the passenger, many
~ ut ships are lost with all on board.’ ‘I know,’ Ned an-

= ‘that ships are often lost at sea; but those that trust

0

     
 
  

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

322 KATE WEATHERS; OR,

in God cannot be lost, though they may be drowned.’ I had
been reading, and even now my eyes were on the page; but I
could but listen to what was being said; my heart was full,
and I was thankful for my noble boy. Beatrice, too, heard the
conversation, though she was looking out of the cabin window
all the time, and as soon as she could get an opportunity, she
pressed the dear little fellow to her bosom and kissed his fore-
head. ‘God bless my precious boy!’ she said, softly. 1
glanced up from the page toward her (for I heard the words,
softly as they were said) ; her beautiful eyes were full of tears;
and how sweet the expression on her face when she kissed
that broad forehead !

“March 4.—The captain of the ship informed us at noon to
day that we had got three hundred miles on our way, and were
making eight knots. The passengers are very pleasant people;
they were utter strangers to us a few days ago ; but one to se@
us now, might think that we had been raised from infancy
under the same roof.

“March 5.—The ship has been rolling considerably to-day:
Six of the nine passengers, including Beatrice and Ned, have
been deathly sick for hours. So far, Harry and I stand it out
like men. On our voyage from Europe to South America, two
years ago, Beatrice was sick half the time, and I greatly fear
that she will fare no better on this our return passage. I am
never sea-sick unless the water should be unusually rough.

“« March 6.—The sea is smoother to-day. Beatrice and Ned
are much better. We crossed the equator to-day at five minutes
past noon. Harry had been told by the captain (who by the
way is a kind, clever gentleman) that we should cross the
equinoctial line at about the middle of the day, and forthwith,
after hearing that, the little fellow seated himself near the
tiller, and began his quiet faithful lookout for the line. He
was sadly disappointed, after an hour and a half’s. patient
watching, at being informed by the captain that the line waS
imaginary, and that we had crossed it half an hour before. ‘
thought I should see a great line stretched across the sea,’ the
boy said, in reply to the captain, who had asked what sort of
a line he had supposed the equinoctial to be. ‘ And how did
you think we should get over it?’ the captain asked. ‘1

‘could not think of any other way than to cut it,’ the little boy
answered.

 

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SCATTERED BY THE TEMPEST. 323

a2 March 7, 8, 9.—Almost a dead calm. The sea is now

ar March 9) as smooth as glass, but it rolls high. Poor

&« M 1S again very sick.

ek arch 10.—The wind has breezed up after us; we are
« Me good headway. Both Beatrice and Ned sick.

time arch 11.—Blowing heavily. I have to give my whole
& — attention to the sick ones. Harry also sick.

March 25.—It has been storming ever since the 11th, but
Sayed been making excellent time; for, for two weeks the
200d as been quartering on the stern. I have had but little
a sna, for all the passengers except myself have been suffer-
fot erely from sea-sickness. Poor Beatrice !—The captain

c i Crossed the Tropic of Cancer at 6 A.M. on yesterday.
haa pril 3.—Very calm most of the time since 25th ult., but
ao _ rolling continually. Beatrice says that nothing can
is se uce her to undertake a long ocean voyage again. She
ered C1 better to-day. Ned and Harry have entirely recov-

«thd both of them have voracious appetites. Niet
a April 4.—Cold, 8. E. wind; ship making splendid time.
« April 5.—Wind E.; we are flying along under short sail.
Cin ett 6.—One thousand miles north of the Tropic =
Whole « fear Beatrice will continue to be sick pei the
elighta? = Dear wife, I wish it could be otherwise! How
that j ite Beatrice when the captain told her this morning
Ww if the winds continue fair we shall be home in three
eeks |

« .
sh April 8.—Lat. 40.18, lon. 51.24, at 9 a.m. So says the
More dic, Wind dead ahead, and blowing fresh. 9 p.M.—Skies
Officers smal than I ever beheld them ; ship laboring. Our
and ar and crew are brave men, who understand their duty

are ready to perform it.

“ ° :
the April 9.—Not a wink did I sleep during the past night ;
say Passengers are becoming very uneasy. Officers and crew
ut little, still, they are cheerful. The storm increases in

Mien | continually. “Oh, the appearance of the ocean is mag-

behelq a glorious | stupendous! Never before have my eyes

“A Pees So grand! so terrible !

hour Pit 0.—Sunrise. No sleep for me yet, except about an

lull, p Yesterday. The tempest is terrific, and no signs of a

Can oa, c? ship is scudding under bare poles toward the Ameri-
St; officers and crew weary ; passengers noisy and des-

    
  

 

 
   

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324 KATE WEATHERS; OR,

pondent. Beatrice, dear Beatrice, strange to say, she has reco
ered entirely ; her quiet, happy face is the light of the cabin
10 A.M.—A lady passenger, who has been moaning and screall
ing incessantly for hours past, has become insane. Oh, how
wild her actions! and how she screams with laughter! 4
great sea has just burst over the decks,—five of the crew were
Swept away by it! 6 P.mM.—Another great sea!—the chief
mate and six more men gone! ‘Twelve are on deck! OD;
what a dreary night is setting in! Nine are locked in the
cabin. Poor frantic lady ! she lies on the floor dying! The
beautiful face of my Beatrice is as placid as a summer evel’
ing’s sky. Bless her noble soul ! Oh, the grandeur of a bravé
good woman ; the heavenly halo that hangs around her and
increases in brilliancy as the darkness in every directio®
deepens and intensifies! My little boys are sobbing and moat’
ing and embracing their mother and sad father. Beatrice haS
her arm around my waist; she speaks encouragingly to all,
—soothingly to her little boys. Oh, I am struggling to follow
the example of my brave wife! My heart is agonized. I cal
not do as she does. The ship reels from side to side. Tam
the only one in the cabin that knows that she has been leaking
badly for two days. The great billows are now continually
rolling over the decks. Not aman is left upon them ! all havé
been swept off, and eight living passengers locked in the cabin!

“Oh, why have you ceased to read, Francois?” asked Lucie;
in a tremulous voice. “ What of those eight ?”’

“T have read all,” said Frangois. “The pages in yellow
ink that I read first follow these in time. They complete
the sad story that comes to so abrupt a close on these.” :

“ Poor, dear people !” said Fawn. “ All drowned but hill
that we have just buried; and he rendered miserable for thé
rest of’ his life from the sad day of the wreck.” 3

“ Knowing what these poor creatures suffered,” said Marlé
“and comparing our situation with theirs, we ought to be
patient.”

“ Dear mamma,” said little Murat, “I am so tired of waiting
for papa! When shall we see him ?” ;
Then she that had been counselling patience sighed deeply
and spite of her courage, tears came trickling out on her face
“Come, Jeannot,” said Frangois, in a cheerful tone, “ ¥°

 

 

9
SCATTERED BY THE TEMPEST. 325

have quite a job before us to-day, and it is now growing nee
let. us beak oh ares We shall expect, Paul, that you and Timon
Work like men to-day.”

“ And you will not be disappointed,” said Paul. “ We are

Teady now to begin. What shall we do first, Francois ?

“ Bring forward the forks and poles and rollers,” said Fran-

Gois. « We have now but about twenty rods farther to take
the boat before we can launch her on the deep again.

Tn less than an hour from the time the work pg see
Oat was at the margin of the creek, only waiting to
OWn into the water. “g
“T suppose she is all ready now to be tumbled off the ways,

8aid Paul.

“We don’t propose to tumble her off, Paul,” said Frangols.

‘ i ld
“Me tumbling process might be the quickest, but as 1t wou

@ rather rough on our boat, we shall get to work with pry

; her
and fulcrum again; and I have no doubt we shall gt seo
down and have her floating gracefully in her bar pote
time than ten minutes.” Nor was Frangois mistaken, for

that time the party had taken their seats in the boat, and were

all ready to start down the creek toward the sound.
“Francois,” said Paul, “I don’t think that I shall ever

: Il
espair of accomplishing what I may undertake at any and a
times during re ae of my life. Whatever the task may be
T shall not give it up, but in the darkest time that may have
Will look back and think of what you and Jeannot oe
One in these two days and move on. Who but you biases

ever have undertaken to bring this heavy boat a mile throug
4 dense forest like this? Who would have done the work “4
Me and in so short a time? Really, I have learned a goo
€sson ! and that is, to persevere and hope.”

“ Master Paul.” said ‘Bvandois, “if in these two days Jl
have learned to meet difficulties bravely, and to be cheerfu
and hopeful and patient when they are upon you, the lesson

18 indeed profitable, and will serve you well.”
The men put their oars out, and it was not long before they

reached the mouth of the'ereek, and had the line of coast, ~
road sounds, and old Basil’s island all in full view,—a
gleaming and glittering in the light of the setting sun.

28

   
      
  
      
         
       
       
     
    
     
     
 

= sli ei os ; - — = :
— a aoe - — — =
A LL TL

 

      
 
 

 

KATE WEATHERS; OR,

CHAPTER XXXIII.

WAITING FOR THE SIGNALS.

“ YonpER,” said’ Paul, “is the very tree under which we
concealed ourselves and the boat a few nights ago; I know it
by its thick boughs that droop down to the water. Had we
not better go and get under it again, Frangois ?”

“T think not,” Francois replied ; “the tree answered well —

enough as a hiding-place at night; but I should not feel alto-
gether safe under it in the daytime, even though its boughs do
droop to the water. Here on our left is a tiny creeklet, not
much wider than our boat; we would probably be as safe in
it as anywhere on this whole shore ; for, no doubt, it winds
back fifty or sixty yards among the high rushes of the marsh.
Let us turn into it, Jeannot, and reconnoitre,”

The boat was pushed into the little creeklet, and far enough
up to shut off from the view Peter Mashew’s creck. The
occupants of the boat were now completel y surrounded by high
rushes ; and while they continued sitting on the thwarts, every-
thing was concealed by the rushes from view except the blue
sky overhead.

“It would be the merest accident,” said Jeannot, “ if those
who are on the lookout for us should find us here ; for there
are probably hundreds of little streams like the one we are 12
that run up into the marshes all along this shore ; and, certainly;
they would never undertake to trace them all up to their
sources. I am sure we would not find a safer place to hide at
if we were to trace the shore along for ten miles. Stand oB
the thwart, Paul, and, if you are tall enough, look out over
the rushes.”

Paul stepped up on the thwart, and by raising himself on
tiptoe, and stretching up his neck as high as he could get it,
managed to bring his eyes above the tops of the rushes, 'Theré
again before him were the sounds, the coast, and the island.
“Tt is not only a good place to hide at,” said Paul, “ but 4

 

    

 

SCATTERED BY THE TEMPEST. 327

800d place to watch from ; for yonder is the island, and we
should be sure to see the signals as soon as made. 33 nad

“We will remain here,” said Frangois; “ but bear in pres
that it is highly important that we should continue to _ oo
quiet, especially when night shall come on; for pede: : .
may even now be near by and on the lookout for us; an ; -
80, they might creep upon us before we should be aware “The
“specially after the darkness shall gather around fat 1 to
“ast noise, the least thumping on the boat, might bs " ni
bes Lemember, then, that we must ne rr mg and caw
Ven than we hay n at any time before. Ri Gee

“Tam sure ria of “A will forget to be quiet, -
Paul, “for it would be a very dreadful thing ¥ perso
pee Should find us out. I know they would kill every one
of us!”

“Tits such tice place,” said Fawn, as she stood on mH
Seat and looked out. “We can all stand on the greiner
bass Out for the signals now. Oh, how I hope we shali's

em to-night !” i
Pb ae soon as night began to cast its shadows around e op
tives Frangois and Jeannot went to work eS cul
Over the frame-work, so that Marie and the children migh :
Sheltered from the night dews and chilly air. Then er NE
Lucie busied themselves spreading smoothly the moss-ve kins
the dy bottom of the boat, and arranging the furs and skin
© be used as covering during the night. .

“T never Pie pont believed,” said Paul, as hp ent _
Self’ down in the middle of the soft bed, “ that it was so easy
® matter to fix up a little boat into so comfortable a sleeping
chamber, Now that the thwarts are taken away there .
abundance of room; and then our roof extends down —
1 Upletely shuts us in. Come this way, little Bobkins, an
a wn here, and see what a nice soft bed we have; it is as
Olt as feathers,” i i

Murat, who, when spoken to, was sitting at the side of ~
Mother, in the extreme end of the boat, got Up; bat, nates
of walling to his brother, as another boy might have =
he Made two somersaults, one immediately after the other, t ’
last One of which carried him across the outstretched legs o

Paul, and brought him flat on his back, with his head-on
Paul’s lap.

  

i
-—-o= sarap eeeeneee ee eeeneenneeneennnenR

         
  
  

 
 

 

 

328 KATE WEATHERS; OR,

“Well! that was the best guess that ever was made!” said

Paul, laughing merrily. “ Here you are, you little limber
jack, with your head on my lap and both heels cocked up
the gunwales! | declare, you are a funny little tadpole!”

“ Remember, Master Paul,” said Frangois,—who, with Jea®
not, was sitting at the stern outside the awning,—* it will no
do for you to be so merry, for dark night is near at hand now:
and those bad men may be near us, too.”

“ Frangois,” said Paul, almost convulsed, “I can’t help
laughing, to save my life, to see the antics of the little monkey
that we have got in here! You ought just to come and lift the
curtain and peep under at him. Oh, me, he is so funny ie

“ Mind you, little Mr. Monkey,” said Erangois, chuckling
as he spoke, “ you must not be so funny.” d

Jeannot laughed outright ; which being heard by the chiF
dren, every one of them took their hands from their mouths,
where they had been holding them to press back the laughtet
that was struggling to burst forth, and in a moment the happy
concert of merry peals might have been heard far out in the
sound,

“My precious little children,” said Marie, “we must be
quiet now, for it is growing dark, and those who wish us har
may be near by.”

“ Frangois,” said Paul, “how are Lucie and Fawn and
Timon and I to watch for Basil’s signals to-night, covered Up
as we are by this awning? Can you not cut some holes 1
the top of it large enough for us to get our heads through?

“T do not think it would be acting wisely, Master Paul, 0
spoil our sail merely to gratify your curiosity. You may be
sure that Jeannot and I will. keep a sharp lookout, and if sig
nals should be made after you get to sleep, we will wake you)
and then it will be an easy matter for you to raise the curtail?
and come out here. Don’t suffer your mind to be distur’
in the least, for I promise you vall that if signals should be
made to-night you shall see them.”

Soon quiet reigned. No sound was heard except the gentle
breathing of the little sleepers that lay.on the woss-bed be
neath the shelter. Even J. eannot, whose watch was to be
through the latter part of the night, had snugged himself
down on the stern seat and was slumbering.

At times Frangois would arise to his feet and look out te

el

 

|

d
Ward the island. From the island,. where me ses
hess, hig eyes would wander up into the clear 8 r Pn
would thought be then ; for, while his eyes wan

, 329
SCATTERED BY THE TEMPEST.

  

reari-

Busy

through the starry fields, other views than ene Mea pees
11m ,—the panorama of scenes through which he the line of
|, Pictures of life from childhood to the samedi wind-
8 pathway all along. At times that veryatts toda through
ing away through flowery mead and field; e in, it comes
Sterile plains; over precipitous mountains. a Wi o streams:
Winding down to green valleys, then along byt e pire
lets Shores, through budding bowers, whose blosso ched, and
at With sweetest perfumes. Deserts again are i to unroll,
cliffs, and cold, bleak precipices. The picture ceases

s is strug-
for now the dreariest range of all is reached, and he 5

ks

Sing up the steeps, clinging to jagged pea cpt >
hanging o'er dark abysses, looking toward t il d peaks. Ah,
's head, and toiling on to reach the cloud-veile i ing the
the Vicissitudes of earthly life! How soon, re ont desola-
Scenes that are passing beautiful, may wastes of er we leads
tion rise in view: and it may be the pathway nembers
through Shenet The pictures vanish ; Frangois eve cent
that he is on the lookout for Basil's signal, but no ragpors
Calm are the waters: the island sleeps upon per arched
som. The world is slumbering beneath i is "of sea-
cone it eeatry blue. Yonder away the dark, hee OTe
Coast is dimly seen ; nearer, the island eden w Sites
18 ever pointing. Above that island hang a tl wap 2 a a
128 orbs, and in their midst resplendent Jupiter. | the Hy-
OW east bright Sirius is arising ; through middle skies Orion
ades float on, and Aldebaran floods the way with light. sin .
Most glorious of the myriad hosts of sk ys regard they
through the azure field and bravely baits oe " ; rves
climb the starry steep. The cloudy rim of Milky Ns! anew
like a rainbow o’er the western woods ; Lyra sits like a ne il
“™P upon horizon’s verge; and broad-winged Cygeus Scie
hear. Bootes with his nimble hounds has chase ¢ down

ipber sky the Greater Bear, and Pegasus goes swooping

apid
the Jewelled slope. At times an aerolite streams on In rapl

flict}

28*

4 : teor
Sht, then in an instant vanishes. At times a wer rena
ursts up from the blue depths—full grown an g oe ware
Tilliant at its coming—and sweeps along in queenly ma)

—EE

   

 
 
 
 

 

 

 

330 KATE WEATHERS; OR,

across the jewel-studded vault, tracing its silver pathway 0?
the blue, then bursting, falling in a starry shower.

All is still. No sound,—except the flipping of the mullet
in the near waters,—except the occasional leap and plunge °
the sturgeon out in the channel, except at long intervals the
barking of a dog on the distant island,—except now and the?
the hoot and demoniac laugh of the owl away back in the wik
derness,—all still but these.

Hours pass. Chanticleer is heard crowing on the land
beyond the waters; it is midnight. The watchman stands
and listens until the crowing has ceased. Soon other sounds
are heard by him. He steps up on the thwart ; leans forward
with hand to ear; then strains his eyes peering earnestly
through the darkness, as if he might see an object miles and
miles away out in the broad Albemarle at midnight on a mood
less night. Those sounds are the rumbling of oars; they
become more and more distinct, until it seems that the boat
has got abreast of the watchman, and is not more than a milé
away ; the boat passes on, away and away in the direction of
the coast, and again the sounds are but faintly heard; thet
the watchman stoops and calls, in an undertone, “ Jeannot!
Jeannot !”

Jeannot springs to his feet: “Oh, it is time to relieve you
What a delightful rest I havehad! About what hour have we
Francois ?”

“Tt is an hour past midnight; but listen! Do you hear the
sound of oars in the distance ?”

“Oars? yes—away toward the coast !”

“TI have been listening for an hour. The boat came from
the direction of the broad river and passed on by toward the
coast. Our pursuers no doubt are returning.” ;

Soon the sound ceased to be heard; then Francois laid him-
self down, and in a few minutes was asleep. 5

For an hour Jeannot stood and looked upon the quiet
scenes. Tis eyes too were turned toward the glittering skies
and he too had thoughts of the past, but his mind was more
disposed to busy itself with the present. What of old Basil:
why had he not spoken again? ‘The second night was drawiDS
to its close and no tidings from him,—why was that? Sup

pose evil had indeed overtaken him, what would be done then?
and where then would be Frangois’s ground for hope? He

 

SCATTERED BY THE TEMPEST. 331

Talsed his hands and pressed them upon his temples ; it bi
a sad thought: what would become of Fawn and Timon 1
ld Basil should never again return ! weal
a ut while these gloomy thoughts were passing ne
Thee? mind a brilliant light beamed forth byakre> oH
. Watchman started, as if wondering what i )

Yet it was what he had been anxiously hoping to see for hours
ae Old Basil was telling glad tidings. MIS

‘Francois |! Francois! Frangois!” he called,— awake an
bigs up! See, old Basil speaks to us!” :

Frangois sprang to his feet and looked out. “ Yes, a
5 pa Come, Fawn, Paul, Lucie, Timon : _— forth an

“¢ How brightly is beaming old Basil’s signal !

“ Oh, dear, dear Bal I Rawn exclaimed as she came out

from under the awning. “It is his signal ! it is his signal !
. “ Had we not better make immediate answer ?” Marie asked,
* Voice tremulous with gladness. “He may think that we
re not here toe anewer han?
“Be Sure, rita bee’ eannot, “he would wait a long =
for an answer; but Frangois has caught the spark, and it wi
hot be long before he will hear from us.” i

“Oh,” said Lueie, clapping her hands, “ isn t it glad, gla
News! . Never came light with more gladness in It. ;

“ Come here | come here!” screamed Murat, who had just
awakened, and was terribly frightened at making the digcnntty
that they had all gone and left him alone. ‘“ Come here!

| Don't be frightened, dear little Bobkins,” said Paul, who,
meg, spoke, was standing on tiptoe on the seat looking over the
jushes at: the light,—«don't be frightened ; we are all here

Soking out at old Basil's bright signal. Come here, and [ will
hold you high enough to see it.” :
nstantly the little fellow came crawling and stumbling out.

» Where is Paul? where is Paul? I want to go to Paul and be
held up.”

”
.. You will be more certain to see the light if Z hold you up,
mid Jeannot, as he took the little fellow into his arms, “ for
t believe that it is about all Master Paul can do by standing
e tiptoe and stretching up his head to see it for himself; and
estdes, T much question that he is as strong as he thinks he is.
* Yes,” said Paul, who had not once turned his eyes away

from the light, nor let himself down from tiptoe, “I think you

    
     
     
    

 

     
  

 

   

   

     
     
   
  
       
 
      
      
 
    
     

 

 

    
  
  
   
  
 
 
      
 
        
     
   
   
    
      

  

332 KATE WEATHERS; OR,

  
   
   
  

had better stay there with Jeannot, for I question, sure enoug”
that I should get you high enough: Jeannot is taller that I
am.”

“ Here goes our answer,” said Frangois, as he held the blaging
fagots on high. “I warrant he will see it.”

Old Basil’s light then began to wave back and forth.

“ What means that ?” asked Paul. :

“The old man is greeting us with cheers,” said Frango!*
“Tt is happy news that he is telling us.” a

Soon the light at the island disappeared, and Frango#
extinguished his.

For a full half-hour after Marie and the children had 1
turned beneath their shelter nothing could be heard but the
laughing and jabbering, in a suppressed tone, of the happy jittle
ones; but one after another their voices ceased to be heat
until again all was quiet as it had been before they came fort?» —

  

CHAPTER XXXIV.

 
 

ICEBERGS.

      
        
      

For three whole days Kate Weathers had been continually
on the lookout for the return of Stam and the party that had
started off with him in pursuit of the boat that it was sup
contained Pedro’s gang and the family of Pierre. The fourth
night after their departure in Len Curt’s boat was noW
advanced, and yet mo tidings. What if they had been over
powered and murdered by the desperadoes ! 24

For hours Kate had been lying in the bunk with Gilley
and the baby; but thought had been ever on the chase
thought through her mind, and there was no rest for ee
Not a moment had she slept. Long ago the hour of midnight
had passed, still she lay there in the darkness thinking ; whe?
suddenly she started at hearing the sounds of approaching feet
grinding through the loose sands of the path; then the doot
of the hut was opened, and one stepped lightly in.

“Ts that you, Stam?” she asked, in a tremulous voice. &
“Yes, it’s me. Is you wake yet, Kate?” ae

    

    
 

SCATTERED BY THE TEMPEST. 333

“T ain’t been to sleep a minit, Stam. I can’t sleep.”

y “ What's the cet Has anything pestered you? oris the
Oungun bad off again?” .

“No, it ain’t that ; nothing ain’t pestered me 5 and the
Youngun’s near about well,—he’s pickin’ up all the time ; ever
since I laid him down here soon in the night he’s been sleep
48 good as can be. No, it ain’t nothin’ like that, Stam; but
somehow ['ve got to thinkin’ and thinkin’, and all I can do
‘8 to lay here and think, think, think. I’ve had near about
everything in my mind to-night: sometimes it would be Ike

rew: and how dark and stormy it was when he driv me a
to look for you; then the Portagee and his gang,—I'd thin :
maybe they had killed you all; then ag’in I'd git to studyin
about hell, and how bad it would be to have to go there and
live all the time, where it’s always black and stormy ; precesity

~~ pretty one that got wrecked here a long time ago woul
Come into my mind, and I'd think over what she told me 80
many times about heaven, and how purty everything 18 wy
Where the good angels lives. Ah me! I wish I could thin
of all that purty one told me about; but it’s been @ Jong,
ong time ago. ‘It’s sich as that, Stam, that’s been runnin in
my mind. But ain't you heerd nothin’ about the stranger's
folks since you’ve been gone 9” har -
“Just about nothin’, Kate. We've been movin here an
there all the time, watchin’ the best we knowed how, night and
ay 3 but it seems they've slipped us, after all.” .

; Where is the others that went off with you? :

‘They're on Collinton Island. You see, Kate, the next day
after We went off, Sol glimpsed the boat of them we are after
Movin’ around Croatan. Well, we pushed on, but that’s the last
that has been seed, though we know that they ain’t far from
Croatan yet. So we made it up to run across in the night to
Collinton, where we could have a fair sight of Croatan on

Urant’s Island and all that shore, and keep a watch out, am
maybe after things should git quiet ag’in’ we might see em
movin’ about enough to spot the place where they’re hid.
After puttin’ the others out at Collinton I run back, and has

en hangin’ around Durant’s Island ever since last night ‘ and
now D’ve come from*there to see how things was goln with
you and the youngun.”

“S'posen,” said Kate, in a half-frightened tone, as she

     
  

 
  
    
   
    
    
     
   
   

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

        
   
   

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

  
   
     
 
       
     
   
   
   
       
      
      
     
        
 
     
       
   
   

 

 
  

334 KATE WEATHERS; OR,

stepped from the bunk and advanced toward her husband,
“it should be found out where they is hid, would ther’ be
any handlin’ of that Portagee and his gang, Stam ?”

“No tellin’, Kate; but when four men that’s risolute, and
that’s after doin’ the right thing, makes fight, they can stand
a long time if it should be ag’inst big odds. You see weV
got the right side, and-we knows it, and the Portagee and gang
has got the wrong side, and they knows it. No tellin’, Kat®
what would be the eend of it ; but we'd do the best we could.

Stam and his wife were occupying the low stools, side by
side, before the flickering blaze that had been kindled on the
hearth. For some time after Stam spoke they both sat silently,
both busy with their own deep thoughts ; at last Kate spoke:

“Stam, I’m tired of staying here on North Banks; I wants
to go and live somewheres else. Can't we fix to go off, Stam?
Can't we go when it’s found out about the stranger's folks
It seems there ain’t no peace here where nothin’ ain’t studie
about but wrecks and sich. here's a better way to live tha?
this, I know there is; and I wants that we shall go away from
here. I’m afeerd, Stam, we shan’t never git to heaven fro™
North Banks. Can’t we fix to go off when this gits over?

“ What’s got you into sich a notion for goin’ to heave™
Kate ?” a

“T don’t know, Stam; I don’t know! I’ve been study!”
about it so much since you went off. I didn’t know as you'd
ever come back here to us ag’in. Somehow I didn’t feel right
about nothin’. The stranger says heaven’s a nice place, whet
ther’ ain't no fussin’ and carryin’ on like there is here
North Banks, and where it ain't never dark like it is here
sometimes; and where there ain’t no wrecks, and no folks
gittin’ drownded, and no dead ones rollin’ up on the beach:
When he seed me cryin’ about my pretty babies that vey
went and drownded, he told me they was livin’ in heaven, a”
waitin’ for me and you to come. Oh, Stam, I wants that we
shall go there and be with them! I can’t forgit my pretty
ones, Stam! my pretty little younguns, that’s gone and le
me! I come nigh on to dyin’ when they went off; but 4
glad I didn’t ; for then you'd a been here all sorter by yourself;
and I know you wants me to stay with you. But there®
better places than this for us. Can't we fix to go, Stam:
Can’t we go and look for some place where sich as Jim Beat

  
 

SCATTERED BY THE TEMPEST. 335

? . :
= live? Oh! oh! oh! what made Jim take and kill my
— little younguns? Oh, it made me so glad when I had

Por I hugged ’em up in my arms! They’s gone |
She | gone! and left me! Oh, Stam, what made Jim kill my
pretty little ones ?” ?
of sey r Kate! long had she writhed under the torturing lash
lo hard had been the struggle with life ; but she did
hid 43 € nobly, for she loved her husband. She did strive to
tae Sa Sorrows in her deep heart, for she knew how dearly that
ine ~~ loved her. She knew that his heart, too, was writh-
and and bleeding, and she must be strong now. She was faint
Pedic yet she must bear up; and even while the poisoned
balm was rankling in her own bosom, she must bring healing
Socks oe place them on his wounds, or well she knew that the
Were thea would faint and fall. Poor Stam ! how prone
well K € flames of passion to kindle and fire his heart! Yet,
band ate knew how brave, how noble, how generous her hus-
and sa He that would rush to the attack with all the fury
that €reeness of a tiger was a mere child in her weak hand
uit hase hand could stay him from the object of his fierce
the 54 She knew that the bond of love, though delicate as
gis Sossamer’s glittering web, was strong enough to hold the
Bate _ fast; aye, that its sheeny twine had power, however
Sarees he might be by wounds, to stay him safely fettered at

osom. But now, in her deep grief, she forgets a tame to

Wate 3
a _She lifts the crushing burden from her heart and
‘res it with her captive. Poor, sorrowing mother! who

“og ease her of the load? As she spoke she covered
hate == her hands, and bowing low her head, she wept

Ones «+ as Oh, Stam, what made him take and kill my pretty
Pir deeply now she was buried in her own sorrows to observe

to hi Me moments that her husband had sprung from her side
a feet, and was standing and looking grimly down upon her.

« tien m he said, speaking through his clinched teeth,
me ¢ don t—never say no more about that devil! It makes
éitare Willian that’s now: in hell ! Kate ! Kate! IT
he to ri P it, Kate,—I can’t help but cuss him ! You wants
you dae to heaven with you, where my babies is,—I know
him rr Kate! but I can't—I can't—I can’t help it! Damn

at drownded my babies !’

     
     
   
     
     
    
  
  
 
 
 
  
 
 
 
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
  
 
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
     

 

 

 

 

336

 

KATE WEATHERS; OR,

“Oh, Stam! Stam! Stam!” cried Kate, wringing her hands

in an agony, “God won’t listen when we asks Him to do fot
us if you takes on so! And then, maybe, we shan’t nevely
never, never see the pretty ones no more! never see ‘em“P?
more! never no more |”

As she spoke these words, Kate was kneeling on the floo
before her husband and looking up into his face,—lookivs

wildly, pleadingly, as if her prayer for pity and for mercy mus! —

be directed first to him.
Stam stood there mute. Still he was looking fiercely dow

—now into the pleading, agonized face. His bosom heaved ® —
heaves the torrid plain before the earthquake rends it. Th? —
flames of passion that were burning in his deep eyes threw —
their ghastly light out on the darkness of his wrinkled brow —

Thus she kneeled, thus he stood: both for a time as mute
if death had come and placed his cold hands on their hear
and chilled them into ice. But slowly and gradually thos?
horrid fires that so glowed in his eyes die out; slowly and
gradually the wrinkles that were deep on his brow smooth dow?)
slowly and gradually the dark cloud passes away and away)
and then a convulsive sigh comes forth from the strong mat®
deep bosom ; he spoke,—

“ Kate !”

She answered not, nor stirred she from her place; put
tears arose in her eyes and came flooding out on her cheek*

She sobbed now, but still the dimmed eyes turned not from
his.

“ Kate, our babies is in heaven; you've told me so, and fy

bilieves it. You'll see ’em there, I guess, if I don’t. Kat®
I’m thinkin’ it’s goin’ to be a hard thing for me to git thet
When you goes to ’em, tell ‘em I wanted to come. Yl
knows that’s so.” ' I

“Oh, Stam,” said Kate, “we will both go,—both!
know I shouldn’t never feel right if I was there and yo"
warn’t. We will both go. Oh, Stam, can’t we go off from
this place? It'll be better for us if we does.” e;

“T’d go off, Kate; but where? How should I git somethin
for us to eat and wear among strangers? What should I
off from the water ?”

“You can l’arn to do somethin’, Stam, and Gilsey and me

look

can help you. When we gits among strangers we can 10

 

       
 

Oe ee

O&O h

     
 

SCATTERED BY THE TEMPEST. 337

about and see how others does, and we can l’arn to do like
ae Me know we can, Le's go, Stam.” ;
“Maybe it moughtn’t be as easy work as you think, Kate ;
things won't be like they is here, where we can git fish when
We wants ’em, and where we can git chance at wrecks every
now and then. If we goes off, all we gits will have to come
other ways, and how will that be?”

Le’s go where there ain’t no wrecks, Stam. I don’t never
Want to eat nothin’ that comes from wrecks, nor to wear none
nt the things neither,—never no more. But, Stam, I know

Jere'll be a way for us to git what we needs, for others that
°s off from the beach gits what’s needed, and we can Yarn
their Ways.”

Sounds of voices were now heard as of several persons ap-
preaching, and Stam hurried to the door and looked out. The
ey Waves of morning’s sunlight were flooding over the green

teket and neighboring hill-tops. Sweet music, too, was there.

Mocking-bird sat on the top sprig of the stunted live-oak
ate the chimney, and was warbling her morning orisons.

‘ Who is it comin’ ?” asked Kate. ‘Sounds like strangers.

Tm tryin’ to make ‘em out,” Stam answered ; “ but I can’t
“ee Plain yet, for they are in the shadiest part o’ the path.” |

ate went and stood in the door beside her husband. “ Did
bag = ever see sich a beard?” she said, in a whisper. “ Ain't

u [oremost one Daddy Lucifer, Stam ?” :

a es look like him,” said Stam ; “but, then, who's them
ser, two behind him ?”
« Dia? re all lookin’ straight this way ee i
Ver you see sich queer folks? Yes, it’s Daddy Lucifer,
~ he’s p'intin’ at mae r
ad There’s where they used to live,” said Lucifer Grindle,
cif ressing Doctor Skyelake (for the three persons were Lu-
°r, Doctor Skyelake, and Socrates Junior); “but I can't
er they lives there now or no, for the people, as well
com h ngs, changes about mightily here on North Banks.
to een = te place where the man lived who took 2 —_
“He iz eae mn his boat more than a Mi Leng sree
in his b ugh specimen, doctor, but he has a grea ig
forget aga = all that. A noble fellow, and I sha’ —_
very huner Ke treatment of me. I = very wet, yo b 2
Sty; he dried me, warmed me, fed me. But,

+ 29

 
  

 

338

 

KATE WEATHERS; OR,

sides all that, I shall never forget his kindness for taking mé
over to your house, good Lucifer Grindle; and i

“ Hold back the rest of what you’ve got to say for another
time, Socrates,” said Lucifer; “for here we is about at the
house, and there stands Stam and Kate in the door. Stam,”
continued Lucifer, as the trio of old men halted in a row be
fore the hut-door, “this here one with the long beard 18
Doctor Skyelake, that’s been dead and buried up’ards 0’ tw?
thousan’ year.”

“Two hundred, not thousand,” said Socrates.

 

“Well, two hundred. I knowed it was a good spell, bub —

T’d forgot the odd years. He said he wanted that I should
fetch him over here to see you, Kate; and you see I’ve foteh
him.”

“To see me?” asked Kate, in astonishment.
never knowed him as I knows on!”

“T have seen you,’’ said Doctor Skyelake, in a tremulous
voice, “and I thank God that Iam permitted again to se®
you!”

“ Maybe, Kate,” said Lucifer,-“ you’ve seed him a many #
time and didn’t know it. He’s a dead man, Kate, much 3%
he looks. like he’s livin’! It’s him that come over from furtl®
parts a long spell ago in four wessels 24

“ Tn two vessels,” said Socrates.

“ Well, two, then. I knowed it took more’n one. to fetch
him. It’s him, Kate, that diskivered the worruld ”

“No! no!” said Socrates, impatiently, “it was Roanoke
Island that he discovered, not the world; but he recoveredy
reformed, resuscitated, and relightened the world by his philos
ophy and splendid theories, especially that of the world’
shape and motions.”

“ He got his brains beat up into mush by a bloody Injin@
by name of Chitken-Hatchet,” Lucifer continued.

“ Lucifer !” said Socrates, solemnly, “have you not heard
me pronounce the name of the cruel chief enough to learn I
yet? It was not Chicken-Hatchet that murdered the gret#
man, but Chick-i-mi-com-o-cach-ie.” :

“That’s it sure enough,” said Lucifer. “ And it’s him,
Kate, that found out how much fire comes from the sun a?
moon every twenty-four hours, and how many years it'll
before the whole world shall git red-hot, and before the 5%

 

 

“T ain't”

’

     
   
 
 
    
 
 
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
  
 
 
 
  
  
  
 
  
 
 
 
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
  
  
 
 
 
     

lalalime laiaisinctisiaitnes

., bed of living, glowing coals. But imagine t

SCATTERED BY THE TEMPEST. 339

gits to bilin’ over like a kittle, and puttin’ the fire out, and
raisin’ sich a steam as ‘s

“T undertake to say, sir!”
the great Doctor Skyelake found out we
highly as I have heretofore valued your 1

Grindle, I would i ited
‘ paige A it oe ife after he had waited,
© Jae think of th Read ee male to get through,—

as he thought, a sufficient time for : Mie oP
“just think —red-hot! Hanged if them won't be dancin umes
My blessed !—red-hot !”

It would be difficult to convey in word ‘far was utter-
pression that was upon Socrates’ face while Lucifer was

I : “ne about exactly
ing these last words, and at the same time stepping

leads over a
as one might be supposed to step whose rays! artist, busy

t beautiful :

 

said Socrates, indignantly, “ that
uch things! and,

iendship, Lucifer

 

words an idea of the ex-

and intently engaged at the task of making the mos
and delicate artificial flowers; his whole sow S00 tan.
the work of imitating nature; he has complete eds aun
tial stem and graceful leaves, and is a ee delicate tints
touching the last of the well-formed petals with ae tantl the
when a sudden crash of thunder peals forth, re eres the
beautiful work that was almost completed ‘f _ his flowers.
paint that he has been breathing, as 2. the same as
Look into that artist’s face! its expression is - Grindle
was that on the face of Socrates Junior when Luctler

uttered that last red-hot ! 3 a
d the powers
“ Lucifer!” said Socrates, as soon as he yor’ the po

of utterance, “I undertake to say, sit—— cae
“ Forget not, Socrates,” interposed Doctor Skyelake,

: . : ou
teachings of the great Kpictetus, with which I am sure y

are familiar.” d
if he had been shot, made
Socrates paused as suddenly nape Hack to the place

a profound bow to the great man, his
from whence he had come, — ney eet opened
lips to complete the sentence that he had D8oh

mi And he’s the greatest man, Kate,’ continued — eps
seemed greatly relieved at Socrates’ silence), “that pt wa"
fort has ever seed ; and we are nigh on to seventy = pact 4

“ Ah! now you are speaking truly and to the ey Pree

Lucifer,” said Socrates, smiling blandly ; “no doubt o ’
friend Lucifer !”

 
  

  

 

 
 
 
 
   
 
 
 
   

 

 
  
 
  
  
 
 
  
  
  
 
 
 
  
 
 
  
  
 
 
 
  
  

     
 

840

 

KATE WEATHERS; OR,

“ But I ain’t never heerd about him!” said Kate. “It ain't

me, I guess, that he wants to see.”

“Yes, child,” said the old man, as tears rolled down his

cheeks, “I have come to see you.”
“ Me!”

“Yes, Adele, you.”

“ Adele? Adele?” asked Kate, in a low voice, as if it was
intended that herself should answer the question,—‘ Adele ?
Stam,” she said, as she looked up into her husband's wondering
face, “did I tell you that the pretty wrecked one called me

Adele?”

“And do you still remember that pretty wrecked one?”

asked Doctor Skyelake.

“Remember? Yes; it was she that put her hand on my —
head and told me about heaven and angels. Did you know -—

her ?”

“She loved you, Adele; she told you of heaven and angels.

Yes, I knew her.”

“ Did she not kneel with me every day and ask God to love
me? Did she not hold me on her bosom and kiss me, and
point up into the blue sky and say that she was goin’ to live

there with the angels ?”
“ Yes, Adele.”

“T knew her name once; but it has been so long, so long!

What was the pretty one’s name? Did you know her

name ?”
“ Yes,” sobbed the old man. “ Was it not Dear Mamma 2”

“Dear Mamma! Dear Mamma!” said Kate, trembling for —
joy. “Yes! yes! it was Dear Mamma! Oh, Stam! that —

is the name that I have tried so many, many times to tell you!
Yes, it was Dear Mamma!”

Stam was bewildered. He gazed down into the face of his
wife, now radiant and beaming with joy, then at the old man,
who still stood there sobbing as a child. “ Kate,” he said, at
last, “I know you've told me a many and many time about

that pretty wrecked one; but I always took it that it was@

dream you'd had; for I'm older’n you is, and I’ve seen more

wrecks and more wrecked ones than what you is, but I ain't

never seed that pretty one.”

“ Was it a dream ?” she asked, as she looked up into the old 4

man’s face. “No, it warn’t a dream,”

    
 

, her boso
her. Did she not hold me to a
forehead before she went with them away

sky ”

you in my arms and blessed you.

:
:
:
i

  

 

341:
SCATTERED BY THE TEMPEST.

No | t was no dream.
eh Ww one; it Wa
y ld; I kne that pret y ?

“Then where is she now ide
“Tn heaven, Adele.

Js when they come for
“ Yes, she is there.

I saw the — and kiss my lips and

p into the blue

laced
‘<sed you; then she pla
ig ae saw her more.

2 d Kate.
reine, She was Your

“T was at her side then.

“ Why did Dear Mamma love me
_ She loved you as you love your

mother.” eee ery
“ Mother!” said Kate, starting In surP «You've been

” gol ifer.
“It's like he says, Kate,” said Lucier. oy but we

‘3 you °
thinkin’ I'm your daddy and Comfort re He’s a dead sperit,
ain’t. Sure asa gun he’s tellin you ng 4
and he knows just about everything, +4 Socrates. “ Doctor

* oko Seah ery sae ey philosopher, does not
a great and profoln eory is incor-
ebdaeaaline > without doubt his pag meen seas
rect sayeth here MeL re ra oi
; oles in this manner - eaks up that
pea fone ara ; then 6 ang emg y= 8 an-
iven 5 t i

the fragments are arl * time, as fragmen
her pa these Treeto pegenes; 0 ® win ’ great heaps are
iled on fragment, and fragment on ar ually dashing and
y i: ; billows are contin ‘ be filled
formed ; over these heaps f ile to be

D>)

en
with water, which instantly are and years of freez-
knit and compacted together. the great ice moun-

driven at last out into the ae Doctor Skyelake’s theory of

lost. This 1s | ill explode it
sare ng ma ee I promise a oe Wy oe
icebergs. alt: teebergs ar : ;

° 6 phe Pe ter Ws salt ; we erg: th t ice-
x “Te oe pean should be necessary, T would pis
bengs very often have spires and eP ee ras resemble. great

hundred feet high; sometimes th ded domes and slen-
hedrals, with roun »
ame we ae ‘shoot high toward the clow

29*

|
}

 
342 KATE WEATHERS; OR,

Did the freezing together of fragments of ice-crust and the
dashing of billows over them form these? Preposterous!

“ Now there are two ways to account for icebergs reasona-
bly. The first is this: the lands that border these cold dark
seas have many very high mountains and promontories that
project and hang over them. During the long nights in
Arctic regions immense quantities of snaw fall, and pile high
on the mountains and promontories; then when the long day
comes on and the sun rises above the horizon these snows melt
and pour down, forming great cakes of ice, that cling to the
mountain-side, until their weight becomes so great that they
tumble down into the sea beneath. These great cakes—
mountains in themselves—form the iceberg’s base. The
waters that are continually pouring over the precipices fall

“upon the base beneath, freezing as they fall, until the pile
has reached a great height. The water from the promon-
tory does not tumble over in one wide sheet, but it streams
over through numberless larger and smaller sluices, and these
form the domes, and steeples, and turrets, and towers, and
minarets.

“ Now I defy any man to put his finger upon a single point
that I have taken that is unreasonable or untenable.

“This is the other plausible theory. It is well known by
scientists that about twenty-three millions of years ago this
whole globe of land was contained within an envelope of water,
ranging from fifteen to twenty-five miles deep.”

“Ugh!” exclaimed Lucifer, “I'll bet you big fish was in
fashion then !”’

“Tt is also a well-known fact,” continued Socrates, “that
this great ocean, from some cause or other, became chilled to
such a degree that it froze to its very bottom.”

“T should say,” interrupted Lucifer again, “ that them that
knowed how to slide and skeet had their own good times
then, for there warn’t no danger of breakin’ through and
gittin’ drownded, neither.”

Socrates paused and continued for the space of fifteen sec-
onds to look sternly into Lucifer’s simple face ; at the end of
which time he spoke, and said: “Neither animal nor vegeta-
ble life existed at that time; therefore there was no one to
slide or skate either! The whole globe had the appearance
of being a solid ball of clear, hard ice, and the vast period

ee eer ore ee

SCATTERED BY THE TEMPEST. 343

of its continuance so is called the ice age. These ridiculous
luterjections annoy me much, Lucifer ! : F
“ But, as I was going on to say, after this great ocean ha
frozen to the bottom, the air above it began to get warmer
(extremes, you know, doctor, are apt to produce extremes, and
I have thought it probable that the intense cold that existed
produced the heat that warmed the air) ; by degrees the ice
melted and disappeared ; and, in the course of from thirteen
to seventeen millions of years (to say nothing of the fractions
of millions), the great erystal envelope had wasted away to a
Mere mile in thickness.” } a .
“T guess the water dripped off, sorter, as it melted ? aske
Lucifer. eae
“Please do not interrupt me again, friend Lucifer, said
Socrates, very mildly, considering the great provocation he
had to become desperately angry. “ The simple questions
that you ask not only break the thread of my discourse, but
they annoy me, as I have said, much. If you were a scientist,
you would know that the elements of water and of air are
much the same. Possibly the disappearing water resolved
itself into air, continually deepening, or extending upwards,
making the great ocean of air in which we human fish swim.
You would know, too, that the seas and oceans of the earth
are continually becoming shallower. Your mind might soar
then into the deep regions of probability and speculation, and
probably you might calculate to a dot the very day in the
future when there will not remain one drop of water upon
this whole globe. But do me the kindness not to interrupt
me again.” : sun
“T won't,” said Lucifer; “go on; for all you’re sayin 1s
mighty pretty. I should like to know what become of the
fish when it friz, But go on.” Pa
“When the icy rind had wasted to a mere mile in thickness,
as I was going on to say, many of the mountains and highest
table-lands had succeeded in getting their heads out, and then
puny animal and vegetable life began to make its appearance.
Still, through the following three millions of years, the ice con-
tinued to thin down, until very much of the land on the globe
came out high and dry. Still immense glaciers filled the val-
leys, and these went creeping down the declivities, in some in-
stances grinding and levelling down, by their great weight and

 
344 KATE WEATHERS; OR,

force, the very mountains themselves, crushing into powder
even granite heights that lay in their way, and dragging along
with them great fragments of rock, which were sometimes of
the weight of millions of tons,—so heavy, indeed, that they
cut out, as they went scraping along, deep river channels,
not only through the soft ground, but even through ridges
of stone and iron. In some cases these huge boulders were
transported thousands of miles, where they were dropped for
the coming ages of man to regard as mountains of themselves.

“In time these glaciers dwindled and decreased to the thick-
ness of only a few hundred yards. The unevenness of the
country over which these passed caused them in some in-
stances to bend and break into great blocks and billets. Some
of these billets were pressed down into warmer seas and melted ;
others passed away into colder seas, and others again slipped
down their slopes into the frigid oceans. These last are the
icebergs of the present day.”

“Socrates !” said Doctor Skyelake, in admiration, “that gla-
cier theory is equal in every respect to my pear theory !”

' “Tt explains,” said Socrates, “ very many things that the
ignorant and uninformed are disposed to regard as inexplicable.
You, doctor, I doubt not, are aware that these glaciers have
not even yet entirely melted from the valleys. Some of them
are moving still down the slope of the Alps and other great
elevations, and it is probable that ages will elapse before these
ice-rivers will give place to rushing waters. But time will be
when there will not remain an ounce of ice upon this globe,
and when it will be as warm at the poles as it is now at the
equator.”

“T am frank to confess, Socrates,” said Doctor Skyelake,
“that you have thoroughly convinced me that my iceberg
theory is erroneous ; hereafter I shall adopt one or the other,
or both, of yours.”

“Great men,” said Socrates, humbly bowing, “are always
frank ; always generous; always open to conviction, and ready
to admit error when convinced.”

“ Hanged if I see into it yet!” said Lucifer. “ Who knowed
how deep the water was, and how thick the ice was? And
then when it got to melting, what come of the water? Not
that it makes any matter to me though, Socrates, for hanged
if I hadn’t as lieve it was one way as another,”

SCATTERED BY THE TEMPEST. 345

CHAPTER XXXV.

AN INTRUDER.

No sooner had Lucifer expressed his opinion of the two
theories of icebergs that Socrates had advanced, and declared
his utter indifference as to whether either or both of them were
Correct, than every one of that strange assemblage started at
the same instant as if they would jump out of their skins, at
hearing a shrill, demoniac laugh burst forth almost in their
very midst ; then all eyes turned toward the chimney end of
the hut, where was seen the head of an old woman peeping
around the corner toward them. : j

Every one stood silently aghast ; they did nothing but stare
back into the wild eyes that were leering upon them.

Observing the impression that she had made upon those
who saw her, the old creature stepped boldly out from her
hiding-place, and laughed more shrilly than before.

No fury could have been better pictured. The sharp, flesh-
less face was lighted with an unwonted glow ; the keenly glit-
tering gray eyes were sunk deep in their sockets; the thin
white hair, blowzed and tangled, hung down over her neck
and shoulders, and partly concealed the face; and the wide,
skinny mouth (now, as she laughed, half open) only added
horror to the fiendish visage. In strange keeping with all this
was the dress she wore of filthy shreds and tatters that reached
not to her ankles, and covered only partially her shrivelled and

emaciated person. ; .

“ Ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha!” she laughed again. “So you’ve
all got together and is havin’ a devil’s mess of it! I’ve been
listenin’ all the time! And so she ain’t your child, ‘Daddy
Lucifer 2’ but was wrecked here a long spell ago ; and you and
Comfort has only been makin’ b’lieve she was your’n? Ha-
ha-ha-ha-ha | Well, I’ve been knowin’ that a long spell, Lu-
cifer Grindle! a long spell! So you and Comfort runned
away to the island because you was afeerd of the ghost of the

man you killed, eh? Now, Lucifer, it didn’t take me many
p*

 
346 KATE WEATHERS; OR,

year to find out that you was lyin’. You knowed you didn’t
kill him, and I knowed you knowed it. I knowed you went:
to keep the youngun out o’ my way; and maybe it’s well
enough that you've kept out of my reach, too, Lucifer Grindle !
Did it take me long to find out that you lied when you told me
that you had killed the baby and flung it into the inlet? Not
as long as you and Comfort Grindle was-a thinkin’ it did. I
found it all out. I knowed where you got Kate from. Didn’t
I fix for Stam to see her? Didn’t I know who he was git-
tin’ for a wife? Didn’t I get her from you after all, Lucifer
Grindle. She’s been with me this many a year,—ha-ha-ha-ha!
I guess I knowed what I was after !

“You hell-hound ! that man had money buried,—plenty of
it,—bushels of it: it’s buried yet,—and all for your lie! You
stole that youngun away, and it’s my belief you got the man
off too, for he warn’t never seed here after that night; if you
hadn’t done that I should got the money. You lied when you
said you was goin’ to help me to git it; you know you meant
to keep me from gittin’ it. I found you out,—I found you
out, you devil! and shouldn’t I git even with you? Ha!
What did I want with Kate so close tome? Ask her how
many younguns she’s had; ask her where they all is now.
She can tell you how many she’s had; but if you could see
Jim Beam, maybe he’d tell you what went with some of ’em!
But where’s that man? where's his youngun? where's the
bushels of gold he had buried somewheres in the sand? You
lied to me, and I lost it after it was all in my reach! If you
hadn’t lied I should a got it! Shouldn't I have spite? Ha-
ha-ha! Kate ain't been havin’ sich a nice time, is she?
Where’s her babies? Go look in the bunk, one puny little
warmint’s in there. Warn’t his time close once? Ask Jim
Beam that, too! Ha! it was dark that night when they
burnt Jim’s house! We heerd them devils yellin’ too soon ;
the mast, and rudder, and oars was in the boat, and all ready;
three folks stepped out o’ Jim’s door: but then the yellin’ was
heerd, and them three stopped to listen, What a pretty frolic
was spilt! Jim’s gone now, and Peggy’s gone; but there’s
more dark nights to come yet, maybe, before it comes my

time to go! Ha, you devil ! go look for Jim Beam and ask —

him if [ lie!”
_ At first sight of the fierce old hag Lucifer darted like a

SCATTERED BY THE TEMPEST. 347

shot between Doctor Skyelake and Socrates, and during the
Whole time that she raved he stood speechless and trembling,
peering over their shoulders at her.

: ty Stand out, Lucifer, stand out like a man,” said Socrates ;
‘it is only some lunatic who is in no manner responsible for
anything that she may say; her words no doubt are only the
Whims of a disordered mind. Poor creature! she is much
more to be pitied than feared; and as she seems to be acquainted
With you, possibly, by going to her kindly and using gentle
Words, you may succeed in soothing the raging passion that
Seems to be devouring her very heart. Go forth, friend Lucifer,
and be gentle, for you see very plainly that she is a lunatic,
and that there is not a word of meaning in all her wild
raving.”

“Hanged if I’d go to her for a thousan’ dollars!” said
Lucifer, shuddering as he spoke; “her bite would be as
Pisin as the bite of a boy-conductor! I’ve knowed Nancy
Weathers too long for that.” ;

Silently Stam had stood and listened to every word that his
demon mother had uttered; his horrified eyes were steadily fixed
upon her during the whole time. He moved not,—scareely
breathed, until she had ended. Kate too had heard it all;
but all the time her tearless eyes were fastened upon the face of
her husband. That husband knew not when the arms of the
anxious wife crept around his waist and were tightly clasped
there; he knew not that her pale face was upturned to his;
he heeded not. its silent pleadings; he saw naught, naught
but the fiend that stood before him, and who, now that she had
Ceased to rave, turned full toward him and seemed to be gloat-
ig upon his misery. But the son too was a fiend now,—fiend
confronted fiend.

With all the power and nimbleness of a tiger that angry
Son bounded from the door toward his heartless mother.
The hand of vengeance was uplifted and aimed before the leap!
Oh, what power has the fiend’s arm when it is nerved with
anger! But that arm fell; its stroke smote only the air: for
love had placed her bracelet on his waist and chained the
Slant to a feeble flower. That strengthful leap failed to reach
the point aimed at, and the terrified object of vengeance

= away though the tangled growth with the fleetness of
a doe,

 
348 KATE WEATHERS; OR,

“Hold, man!” said Doctor Skyelake, rushing toward the
furious man,—‘“ hold! it is your mother! Think! think!
and act not the part of a brute,—it is your mother !”

“ What is the matter with Kate?” asked Lucifer, who had
recovered from his fright sufficiently to speak. ‘She looks as
if she was dead.”

Kate had been dragged from the door by her husband;
still her arms were clasped tightly around his waist, though
now she hung there as limber and as motionless as one sleeping
in death.

“She is dead!” said Socrates. “The fright has killed her !”

Until this was said Stam had known nothing of his wife’s
clinging to him. ‘“ Dead?” he asked, as he looked down upon
her. He acted as one waking out of a dreadful dream.
Dead? Kate dead!”

“She does indeed appear to be dead,” said Doctor Skyelake.
“Place her gently down on the sand, Socrates, when I shall
get her fingers unclasped ; it may be that she is not yet dead.
There, easy, Socrates !”

“Oh, Kate! Kate!” said Gilsey, as she came and kneeled
beside the silent woman, clasping her hands and moaning sadly:
“Oh, Kate! Kate! Kate! what’s me and baby goin’ to do
now? what'll we do if you dies?”

Stam also was kneeling now beside his wife and gazing
wildly into her pale face. Anger had gone, and in its place
was agonized fear.

“ Kate !” he said, more in a surprised than sorrowful tone.
“ you ain’t gone and died, is you?—died! Open your eyes and
look at me,—it’s Stam. Talk to me, Kate ; tell me you ain’t
dead !—dead? Oh, Kate, don’t, don’t, don’t take and die!
What'll I be if you goes and leaves me this a-way? Kate!
Kate! You won’t talk to me,—Kate! Open your eyes and
look at me; take a-hold o’ my hand in your’n; it's Stam
talking. Listen, Kate! I’m ready to do like you wants me to
now; all’s ready to go off from North Banks right now. I
guess we can make out to git somethin’ for us all to eat and
wear, like you says; I know we can; other folks does, and
we can. Nor I don’t want no more wrecked things neither,
Kate,—that I don’t. Come, come, Kate! I’m all ready to start
off now,—right now,—this very minit. The boat’s at the
landin’, and there ain't nothin’ for us to do but to git aboard and

SCATTERED BY THE TEMPEST. 349

take in the anchor and ship the rudder and sprit up the sail.
Come, the wind’s as fair as it can blow to go up the sound ; but if
you'd rather go the other way, I can beat her along at a good
Smart lick. Kate! oh, Kate! you ain't dead! You ain’t gone
and left me here all by myself! Open your eyes and talk to me,

ate! Don’t you know I shan’t never git to heaven,—never
See the babies, if you don’t stay with me? I don’t know how
to fix it like you does, and I know you wants me to go_too.

ook at me, Kate; I ain’t mad with mammy, makes no differ-
ence what she says and does. ‘Take a hold o’ my hand and
talk to me, Kate !”

During this impassioned pleading the rough North Banker
Seemed utterly to have lost sight of the fact that others were
near him, his whole thought, nay, his whole soul was with the
lifeless form before him. His words were neither loud nor
exclamatory ; they began with expressions of surprise and as-
tonishment, then “they softened down into sad, earnest plead-
Ings to her, who was most dear to him of all created things,
that she would come again into life; that she would for his
Sake, who loved her so dearly, continue to dwell with him, to
be his companion still in the journey of life,—of life that would
be darker than death without her. !

Still she stirred not; the pale, quiet face looked, still, as if
death were there indeed. A moment he waited in silence,
as if yet she might answer his earnest pleadings, but she con-
tinued as quiet and deathlike as ever. Tenderly he raised her
from the sand upon his breast; her head was now resting on
his bosom. « Oh, Kate!” he said, in piteous tones, “ don’t,—
don’t die and leave me, Kate !”

“Quiet ! quiet!” said Doctor Skyelake, who was leaning
over and looking into her face ; “she breathes. Bring water !”

Socrates darted off to the spring, and in a few moments
returned, bringing a conch full of clear, cool water.

Kate had now opened her eyes; for a moment she stared
at those around her, then she fixed them upon the agonized
face of her husband.

“Tt’s me, Kate,” said Stam. “I'm got you here in my
arms.’’

She recognized her husband and smiled.

“Oh, God, how glad I am!” he said, as tears came trickling
out over his grizzly beard.
30

 
350 KATE WEATHERS; OR,

“ Be quiet,” said Doctor Skyelake, kindly ; “she will be

better in a few minutes.”
“ Drink a little of this water,”
conch to her lips; “ it will refresh you.”
She raised her head and drank, then placed it back, and
rested there as a child rests upon the bosom of its mother,
“ Did you hurt her, Stam?” she asked, in a feeble voice.
“No, Kate, I didn’t touch her; you kept me from it.”
“Tm glad of it!” she said. “Oh, I'm glad of it, Stam !”
“Kate, I told you that I wouldn’t take on so no more.
Now [ tell you so again. I’ve broke my word many and many
times with you, but you may trust me now, for never so long
as I lives I shan’t do the like of it again.”
“It was certainly very wrong in you, Stam,” said Socrates ;
, “very, very wrong. You ought to remember that you are a
man, and one of God’s reasonable creatures. If it were not
for the reason you would be a brute. Now, it is somewhat
a matter of choice with you whether you will be a man ora
brute. The devil makes it his business to insinuate himself

into our friendship. He is all smiles and bows ;

will take the least trouble to inquire into his real cha
will soon find out that he is a cheat and a hypocrite, and that
he is extremely lavish with his promises, but never fulfils one
of them. He is very jealous of man,—mainly on account of

but if you
racter, you

this great gift from Creator, reason,—and is forever in one way
or another attempting to deprive him of that treasure. N ow,
he knows very well that if he makes his attacks boldly and
openly to wrest this great treasure by force, he will be foiled
in every attempt, so, as I have said, he takes the course of in-
sinuating himself into our confidence and friendship. ‘ Suavi-
ter,’ not ‘fortiter,’ is his motto and rule. But trace history
back to the first man, and you will find that this specious
villain has never told one truth in the time. One might
suppose from this that he would have long ago lost all power
and influence; but so far from it, we ful

| into his traps more
readily than our first parents did. We are continually barter-

ing our reason with him, delivering the property to him, and
receiving for it his promises to pay, which are not worth a straw.

“ Now, Stam, you will have the best proof in the world of
the truth of what I have been saying by taking your own
case this morning. The devil slips up while you stand in the

said Socrates, presenting the

SCATTERED BY THE TEMPEST. 351

: ive him kindly.
door, makes a polite bow and smiles ; you receive him

Mind you, he le say, frankly, What will you = a
reason, Stam? but, Stam, that old mother of +3 ye be a man.
you badly: she needs killing; avenge yourself an the job’s
[ll give you a bellyful of sweet revenge as soon “8 culkehe
done. Don't you see, Stam, how soon you agreed to as good
gain, even before you inquired saga sweet revenge was good,
nutritious food or a rank poison k ‘

“ What basen you? Nothing upon earth but this dear; an
wife of yours! Stam, the purity of the purest diamon a
ever glittered is as one to a thousand billions when — oy

with the quality of that brave woman’s soul. Her veins re
estimable, therefore a richer man lives not upon earth s wife !
husband. Qh, the priceless value of a loving, preios alenaih
Think of the service yours has done youl? ‘ wen soul
the expense of her own life! Think, man, <_< nd | ve and
stained with its mother’s blood! Think! think! and lo ever
honor your noble wife a thousand-fold more a Sen wife !
did before! Wife? aye, wife! true, virtuous, rite Wie
Open the treasuries of Croesus and look tee i oa all the
brilliants there; bring all the gold and all the si ver os sh
gems of earth and add them to Croesus’s wealth ; rc rs
look : how dazzling the glitter and glow! These Lee e sun
the virtues of a true wife as sparks before vo ei man
The richest gift, Stam, that God ever vouchsafe - —- So:
is a loving, faithful wife. Respect, love, honor this of y ife
for she has by this one instance proved herself’ to bea we hy saa

“God bless you for these ee friend Socrates!
Doctor Skyelake. “They are well said. :

“Yes, Stam,” Miter + Socrates, “your wife ee or
you; strive not to fall again. Don’t allow this eae poe
day ever to pass entirely from your mind. Don't aA ioe
self ever to regard your good fortune as a mere os “ 3
escape from a great evil that was impending ; but ra < so
gard it as alink in the chain of God’s prov ort nto
suffer yourself to forget that you have this day been = c
from as terrible a calamity as can befail a human being. 7
a brute has some understanding of the relation of parent =
child, T pledge you my word of honor I would ee ;
the dog that should wantonly and maliciously take the life ;
its mother. .God saw fit that this poor woman whom you s

 
352 KATE WEATHERS i; OR,

furiously assaulted should bring you into this world, and it is
not for you to question His wisdom. Let the parent act ever
So ungenerously, ever so cruelly, ever so wickedly toward the
child; yet, the son who honors not the parent is lower in the
scale of beings than even the most Venomous serpent; for
such a son is unnatural, and by his conduct he places himself
with the brotherhood of fallen angels. He is a monster; an
excrescence ; a putrid sore upon the body: he is a demon be-
fore his time, and voluntarily steps beyond the pale and hope
of heaven. He has seen fit to take it upon himself to act in
opposition to the will of the Creator. know that allowance
must be made in particular cases under certain circumstances
(for instance, so much ought not to be expected of one born in
a heathen land as of one born and educated in a Christian
» land), but, as I have said, instinct itself is a teacher in these

and man in any condition is above

“T repeat, then, never suffer yourself to forget what a ter-
rible calamity you have this day escaped. Great God! what
a sign for a man to carry upon his forehead through life—M at-
RICIDE! Surely hell has no more awful brand of infamy !”

“ Here’s Nancy comin’ back !” said Lucifer,

“She is a lunatic,” said Socrates ; “for no sane person could
80 soon recover from the effects of so great a fright.”

Nancy came near, and stood and gazed wildly upon the
group before her. “Stam!” she said, at last, “ why don’t you
give me somethin’ to eat! I ain’t had a mou’ful since Peggy
Strubl died! Don’t yousee me! Pete won't give me nothin’ ;
nobody won't give me nothin’ ! Everybody says they wishes
I was dead and in hell,—and that’s all I gits to eat. Then,
when I comed to you a spell ago, you wanted to kill me. Let
me eat somethin’ and then you may kill me if you likes, for I
shan’t run from you no more.” :

“T ain’t never wanted to kill you, mammy,” said Stam;
“but what makes you carry on so? What made you and
Jim ” He said no more. Why should he say more?

“If you don’t give me somethin’ to eat right away,” said
Nancy, sharply, “I shall die !”

.. “Yes, get Something for her,” said Socrates, «I was on

the eve of starvation once, and I know what it is. It was you
that fed me then, Stam.”

and potatoes, and was about to

ae he
sey’s hand. “In her present condition s
bones, heads, tails, and fins, all together, -
choked. Here!” he said to Nancy: “ta separa
as slowly as you can, while I get the bones sep
fish for you.”

i i i f very
tato voraciously, while he made himsel
bones from rid fish, which he handed over t

353
SCATTERED BY THE TEMPEST.

the house with a panful of -
hand it to the starving wer
snatching the pan from -

would swallow fish,
so be sure to get
his potato and eat
ted from the

Gilsey came running out of

“ Wait! wait!” said Socrates,

Nancy sat down on the san busy picking the
o her as rapidly as

he could. ” he said, as he
“There, you have eaten the whole panful, h for this time.

ave the last piece to her; “and that is enoug eaten
I will init: another panful for you myself oan ene

morning.” & iter: for it was the
‘ . waiter ; 10
N ancy leered in surprise at her polite va treated with such

first time in her life that she had bee

mark ectful attention. ie
“ cian, madam,” said Socrates, “ _ mcs a -
thing that you could do now would be to lie dow

1 me hours.” ‘ : +
a: atone al pra T does,” she said, looking suspiciously

i distance.
toward her son, who was sitting at a few ie albemer ni
“ No, mammy ; he won’t hurt you, "sal "

Stam ?” io “ &
d Stam; “ never
“T shan’t never hurt you, mammy,” sal }

o : y”
~“< ein madam,” said Socrates, “ rn ae primes
of fear. If your son and his wife, whom you douienl should
treated, can forgive you, surely no other ree. ouatill have
bear malice in their hearts against you; -_ as sleep, and
fears, T will engage to sit here by you while you seep,
Protect you against all mischief that mig If of the whole of

But before Socrates had delivered himself o

d
this gallant offer of service, the poor weary pe Ace ha
eased herself down on her side and gone fast to sleep.

30*

 
KATE WEATHERS; OR,

CHAPTER XXXVI.
HIDDEN THINGS BROUGHT TO LIGHT,

“Come, madam, come! it is full time that you should be
. awake and up,” said Socrates, as he gently rolled Nancy
Weathers’s head from side to side in the soft sand on the next
morning. “Too much sleep is as bad as not enough, and you
are about to get more than you need of it. It is generally
admitted that a fair division of time is, that of the twenty-four
‘hours, eight should be devoted to sleep and the refreshing of
the body ; eight to labor and the performance of such duties
as are chiefly of a selfish character: such as the providing of
the means of sustenance for ourselves and those who are in @
manner dependent upon us; and eight to the service and praise
of the Beneficent Father who has given to us the life we have,
and the friends and the pleasures that we enjoy,—and in these
last and higher duties is included the love and service that we
owe to our fellow-men. This is a very good general rule for
the dividing of time, but it has its exceptions, as all other good
rules have. Some persons require more and some less than eight
hours’ sleep: depending upon the age and physical condition ;
~ome must sleep nine hours; others again need only seven,—
six,—even five ; my own opinion is that the adult in ordinary
health who can get six and a half hours of good sound sleep
out of the twenty-four, will not be apt to suffer. There are
other exceptions to the general rule, which it is needless to
speak of, for our subject now is sleep.

“TI say, Nancy, that you are about to get more sleep than
you need ; for you have been lying here like one dead for about
thirteen level hours; therefore you had better arise and shake
off your slumbers, or you will so encroach upon the other two
divisions of time, under the rule that I have given, that you

will of necessity leave some of your highest duties unperformed.

According to my promise, I have been sitting here at your
side, watching over you and holding myself in readiness to
protect you, ever since you closed your eyes yesterday after-

= 8A ee la
ST SF NN a ar Ra

  

 
   
  
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

   

  

SCATTERED BY THE TEMPEST. 355

noon ; and I am sure you cannot complain of hong ae
in the least disturbed during the time. True, at one ‘ : wr
the dead hour of night, while, for a few — pisces
my eyes fixed upon a bright star, a little toad art ; se
but T was fortunate enough to get him by one of = =
as he was about to spring either over your head on nt
mouth, which was at the time open, and I flirted gow ee es the
trees, and have not seen a toad since. Again, short & led
dawn of day, I discovered that a little green snake rs fal of
itself snugly near your left heel and gone to = sitched a
disturbing your rest, I did not strike ws but SES to the
handful of sand upon its head, when it wriggled off ae se
Woods as fast as ever it could go. If any thi ag eats in
ful character came near you, | failed to see it. pean e.
awake! awake!”

During the latter half of the time that Socrates _ _—
speaking Nancy was lying there with her eyes ees plan 70 “
Staring at him. She had not stirred,—not even to had for 80
of a musele, except that the thin curtains pe i up, and
many hours been hanging over her deep eyes ro rapt i
let in upon each of those eyes a perfect picture 0
hearted philosopher.

“Wh 2” she asked, grufily. :
“Ty het ‘tosianes cntlicn philosopher (if I may be al-

lowed so to speak) of the school of the great — nan
the originator of the Pear Theory. You may ask me —
the Pear Theory is. To anticipate, though, pong» we ing
trouble of asking the question, I will inform you that _ e
the still hours of the past night I have busied wt om “ee
preparing an outline of a lecture which I purpose vei
to you. I can only attempt to bring the — . me

before you now; but you shall be made fully and thoro —
acquainted with it, as time and occasion hereafter ~~ en ee
But I must beg of you, in advance of the lecture, to _ mm
me if I shall ramble to some extent around the points o You
text. The disadvantages under which I labor paddler sat aper
are aware that I am at a place where neither pen nor 5 ty
may be had. I shall, therefore, have to trust to memory pe
tirely, which is not so absolutely certain a depen dle
might desire in such a case, and with such a amen losing
I abominate the custom that is getting to be general, of placing

 
 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

   
     
   
      
    
     
    

 

 

 

 

   

  
  
  
 

356 KATE WEATHERS; OR,

implicit reliance upon memory when abstruse subjects are to be
treated upon. Ten to one there is one less genius in the
world than the public speaker will allow himself to believe

there is. To trust entirely to memory in the present case, .

though, is a necessity ; and therefore it is that I make these
excuses in the outset. I think that I have succeeded in get-
ting the matter pretty well arranged in my mind, for I have
been at it for the past five hours, and I did not call you to
awake until I felt that I might trust myself. Will you be so
kind as to sit up and attend to what I am about to say, madam?”

“ You're a cussed fool !” said Nancy.

“ Indeed, you are much mistaken !” said Socrates. “ In all
deference to! your opinion, madam, you are in error; and I
defy you or any other to prove the truth of such an assertion,
either from a state of facts or upon logical reasons that have
principles or common sense for their base.”

“ What are you settin’ down here by me for?” asked Nancy,
as she arose to a sitting posture a few feet in front of the
philosopher, and glared angrily into his placid face.

“ Ah,” said Socrates, “I perceive that you are not yet fully
awake! Have you forgotten the occurrences of yesterday?
Do you not recollect the rencontre of yourself and your son
Stam; the swooning of Kate; your running away? After
that, your return and asking for food, and my picking of the
bones from the fish for you ?” i

“JT want somethin’ to eat now!” she said, without attempt-
ing to reply to one of his questions. “I’m hungry!”

“T supposed you would be hungry upon awaking,” said
Socrates, ‘so I have had Kate and Gilsey cooking potatoes and
fish for you; and here I have them in the pan, waiting to be
eaten. I will pick out the bones for you as I did on yester-
day.” f
“ Qan’t I pick out the bones as good as you can?” she
asked, scowling.

“ Well, well, take the pan and manage it to suit yourself!
As you are not so ravenous now a8 you were on yesterday,
I suppose it will be safe for you to act for yourself. But you
are still very hungry, and I would advise you to be very care-
ful to get the bones out before eating.”

Nancy received the pan into her hand; and after scrutiniz-
ing what it contained with a great deal of care for some time,

”

 
  
 

    
  
 

SCATTERED BY THE TEMPEST. 357

and turning over the fish and potatoes one by one with her
long, bony forefinger, until she had examined them all to the
very bottom of the pan, she looked up into Socrates’ face with
a searching gaze for some moments. “ You devil!” she said,
at last. “ You've put pisen into this wittles jv ;

“T am a Christian gentleman,” said Socrates, with some
degree of indignation in his manner and tone, “not the pol-
Soner of unfortunate females!. I do assure you that what
you have there in the pan is good, healthy food.” oe

Nancy was not fully satisfied, even after this positive assur-

ance from the philosopher. ‘Seems to me,” she said, “ that
you're up to some deviltry. Ain’t you a witch?”
_ “Witch!” said Socrates, starting slightly and staring full
into the woman’s face. “ Witch! My good woman, allow me
to assure you that there is no such thing as a witch in this
wide world! You greatly surprise me when you give me to
understand, as you do, that you believe in the existence of
witches! But, if’ there were forty millions of witches, I posi-
tively and solemnly affirm that [ am not one! Are you sure
that you are fully awake, madam ?”

“Well, I'll try it,” said Nancy. “ But look a-here, you
devil-fish-lookin’ cuss, if you conjure me Vl kill you!

Doctor Skyelake happening to overhear, from his seat near
the chimney corner in the hut, the conversation that was golug
on without, had come quietly out, and was now standing near
behind Socrates and Nancy, looking down upon them as they
sat there near together on the sand. Wee.

_ “Conjure you!” said Socrates. “ Will you persist, madam,
In taking me for ud

“Eat what you have there without another word !” said
Doctor Skyelake, in a deep, hoarse bass. “ Eat, I say, Nancy
Weathers |”

Nancy sprung to her feet at the sound of those unearthly
tones that were pronounced so close behind her, and for some
Moments she stood there holding the pan in her hand, with
her keen eyes fixed intently upon the doctor’s stern face.
“And who are you 2” she asked, in a contemptuous manner.

Instead of answering a word, he advanced toward her, and
took a fried mullet out of the pan and held it with its head
toward her, “Tell her who I am!” he demanded, address-

ing himself to the mullet.

 

 
  
    
 
    
 
   
   
    
 
    
 
    
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
  

358 ' KATE WEATHERS; OR,

“You are the renowned and great philosopher, Doctor
Skyelake, originator of the Pear Theory!” said the mullet.

“TJ thank you sincerely, friend Fried Mullet,” said Socrates.
“ You have confirmed what I have already told her.”

Nancy, in utter astonishment at hearing the fish speak,
turned and was about to fly.

“ Wait!” said Doctor Skyelake, in those same sepulchral
tones as at first,—‘ wait, I say! or in less than five minutes I
shall dump you headforemost into the sea, five hundred miles
out from the beach !”

The terrified woman turned back, and stood trembling and
gazing into the doctor’s face.

“Take your seat again,” he said, “and eat those fish and
potatoes |”

“Take out this one that talked,’ she said, as she seated
herself; “ for I swear I won't eat nothing as long as it stays in
the pan !—not if I gits pitched out a thousand mile !”

The talking mullet was taken from the pan, and Nancy took
up the others, one by one, and looked into their mouths.

“Ts the rest on ’em fish 2” she asked.

“Don’t you see they are?” said the doctor, breaking off
their heads one after another and pitching them into the
thicket.

“Looks so,” she said, as she put a piece of one of them
into her mouth and champed it awhile, then licked out her
tongue half a dozen or more times, so as to get the taste well
before swallowing. ‘“ Yes, it tastes like fish.”

“Wat!” said the doctor, impatiently; “you have nothing
before you but fried fish and potatoes.”

Nancy was very hungry; the fish and potatoes were very
good, and it was not long before the pan was empty.

“ Now,” said Socrates, “you have eaten all but one fish,
and it is a very fine one; I mean this that the doctor has just
placed in the pan; will you not eat i¢, madam ros

The look that the woman cast upon the ragged philosopher
after he had got through speaking was that of ineffable con-
tempt and disgust, but not a word in answer did she deign.

“Do you know now who I am?” asked Doctor Skyelake.

“T should guess you was a witch,” she replied, in a tremu-
lous voice.

“Ha, ha!” laughed Socrates. “ No, Nancy; he’s no witch ;

           
    
 

4
i

  
  
 
 
 
 
 
  
  
 
  

 

   

SCATTERED BY THE TEMPEST. 359

he 1s a dead philosopher that has lately resurrected, after

having been buried upwards of two hundred years! Ha,
ha! and so you will persist that there are witches! You are
eat | thousands of years behind the age, Nancy! He is
ead.”

A !” she gasped, lowering her eyes from his to the
Sand,

“ Ay, dead!’ said Socrates; “and can tell you many things
that you know, and many that you do not know, and many
that you think you know that no one else knows.”

7 I must go now!” she said,-half rising to her feet.

Sit still!” said the mullet in the pan.

hes woman, now unnerved, sank back in the spot from
whence she had arisen and hid her face in her hands.

“ Naney Weathers!” said Doctor Skyelake, solemnly, “it is
Strange that you who fear not the great God that made you,
nor your fellow-men, nor the devils in hell, should so fear-to
come into contact with the spirit of one who is dead! Have
you ever taken the time to think, wicked woman, that one
who lives out a whole lifetime such as yours 80 far has been,
can only be a fit companion for devils after death ?”

“Don’t kill me!” she pleaded, piteously, as she pressed her
hands still closer over her eyes, her old, bony frame shudder-
ing as she did so.

“TI shall not kill you; but why have you chosen to live so
miserable a life 2?”

cl do better. Won't you let me go now ra

“ Miserable, wretched creature! Have you no conscience?
no feelings of pity and of mercy? no love nor sympathy
ce oars ? Why is it that you have chosen all your life to
follow the dictates of devils? Why is it that you have pre-
ferred to bring misery and sorrow, rather than peace an sptak:
fort to your fellow-men? Do you remember the poor wretch
Who struggled to shore through the stormy sea with the little
Innocent in his arms years ago, and how you dogged the steps
of that poor sufferer? How you delighted to meet him, and,
for no cause, to curse him? How, for the sake of money, as
well as to gratify your hellish propensities, you followed that
Weary, fainting, wretched man to the old hulk within which
he had taken shelter for himself and his precious little charge,

with the intent of taking his life and the life of the child,

       
    

 
  

 

360

 

KATE WEATHERS; OR,

though they had never harmed you? Wretched woman,
think of these things! What were your feelings when you
went creeping into the old wreck that night, carrying the
drawn dagger in your hand? When, yourself acting the part
of a fiend of hell, you saw the poor, sorrowing man stricken
to the earth? When you saw that dear little one taken from
him and borne away? When you sat there afterwards, and
with foul lies deceived the bereaved sufferer? When the man
whom you had chosen to be your partner in these dreadful
crimes said to you that he had obeyed your orders and cut
the throat of the dear innocent and thrown it in the inlet?
Wretch! what were your feelings at these times? and what
was your reward for the damning deeds ?”

“Tt is as I said yesterday,” said Socrates, —“ she delivered
her goods and took for them the devil's promises to pay !”

“Tell me,” thundered Doctor Skylake, “what was your
reward ?”

Fright choked the trembling hag: she could not speak,

“ You did receive something. Where are those packages ?
Where is the money? ‘The price of innocent blood !—has
time taken them all, and are you poor again? Ah, how the
demons cheated you, and how they now mock you!”

‘‘T guess the sad spoils of that night have taken wings and

flown away long, long ago,” said Socrates. “ Twenty-nine
years is a long time.”

“T've got all that I got that night,” growled Nancy.

“You have them!” said Doctor Skylake. ‘“ Where are
they ?”

“They're hid,” she said. “I'll go and git ’em if you'll
let me.”

“How far away from here are they ?”

“Not far; I'll bring ’em soon!” :

“ Bring them!” he said. “Bring them soon! Go!”

Fleet as a deer she sped down the path, again and again
turning back her eyes while she continued in sight.

“T rather think,” said Socrates, as N. ancy passed from sight
around the bend of the path, “that we shall never see her
again. She will either run on twenty miles in that way, or
else she will wring her head off turning it to look back ; it is
the last of her, I think, without doubt,” *

“Tam much mistaken if she does not intend to return,”

 

        
    
  
  
  
  
  
 
  
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
  
  
 
 
 
 
  
 
 
  
   
 
  
 
  
  
 
 
 
  
  
 
  
  
 
    

SCATTERED BY THE TEMPEST. 361

said Doctor Skylake. “We shall be - to og her if she
Was telling the truth about having those things.

“ How ondeill it is,” said Socrates, “ that vn ee
be disposed to plan and coolly perpetrate such crimes
sake of a few dollars!”

“Truly wonderful!” said Doctor Skyelake, pre je
“Tt is bartering all the precious gifts of God for er peg a
ies it is acquired, brings not happiness often,

rings misery !”’ ‘

« Seo,” ed Socrates, “she is fr already. Poor
creature, how she pants under her burden! .

“Put them anes there,” said Doctor Skyelake, “ then sit
down yourself. Are these all a

“ Yes,” she answered, hesitatingly.

“Liar!” he said. “ Where is the trunk? sno it!” And

“ All’s here but that !” she screamed. “I'll bring 1
again she sped away as at first.

~« Tf J Pe cunihd the remarkable faculty that I “id J a eer
Doctor Skyelake,” said Socrates, “ i ta -
of it for the benefit and promotion of science. id

“ What is the remarkable faculty that you refer to? wen
the doctor. :

Z a That of looking through the opaque windows of the human
eart,” said Socrates.

“ And what use would you put such a remarkable faculty

to?” é ¥

“T should never rest,” said Socrates, “ until es ae
able creature in the land should be brought to admit ers of
of the Pear Theory ; first I should exhaust all the pow
argument and suasion, and then ;

“ And then what, friend Socrates ?” eee

“And then I should compel them to believe a
them into the belief. My object being a worthy one, I be
the end would justify the means.”

“ Depend ne it. friend Socrates, those are not - —
of true philosophy. Let the means be honorable, and reme
ber that Gop disposeth.” F

“ You are end wise,” said Socrates, “ and I admit that my
zeal is disposed to lead my judgment.”

§ Sestenes friend Saseeien’” said Doctor Skyelake, “ that

after you had driven all the world into your belief, you should
Q 81

 

 
 
  
 
 
 
  
  
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
  
  
  
 
   
  
   
 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

   

362 KATE WEATHERS; OR,

discover that you had all along been mistaken, and that the
Pear Theory is a mere myth ?

“The Pear Theory a mere—

“ Here is Nancy again,” said the doctor. “ Are you sure
you have all now?” he asked, addressing her.

“These is all,” she said, “ and you knows it !”

“ Where is the money ?” ’

“Tn this bag.”

“ And where is the little box ?”

“ There it is on that trunk.”

“There is more money in that bag than you got at that
time.”

“T know it; but I don’t want none of .it. Take it all!”

“No. ‘Take it and keep it; have you not well earned it?”

“T don’t want it.”

“Take it! Is it not yours?”

“T tell you I don’t want it!”

“Take it, wretch! and henceforth be not afraid to claim it
as your own, for now I tell you that itis yours! Do not want
what you have been at such pains and trouble to earn? It is
the price of human blood! Nay; more, woman, it is the value
that you place upon your own soul? Do not want it? Are
you insane? ‘Take it, take it, woman!”

“T don’t want it! I don’t want none of it!” she screamed.

“Ha! have you at last discovered the value of what has
cost you so much? It is late for the knowledge to come ; for
your hairs are gray, and the sun cannot rise and set many more
times for you. It is late, indeed! but God grant that, late as
it is, the discovery may benefit you!”

“Ts you goin’ to kill me now?” she asked.

“ Kill you? No, poor woman, death will come for you soon
enough! So far from being disposed to take your life, I pray
that God will spare it until you have learned to realize fully
how wretched its past has been. See, before you are the fruits
of your labors and trials from infancy! and you have dis-
covered now that they are worthless! Go where you will
now, but think of how much better you could have done in
the past, and pray that God will forgive you, and lead you in
the future.”

“ What is this?” asked Kate, anxiously, as she came from
the house up to where Doctor Skyelake and Socrates were

 

”

 

   
 
 
   
 
     

SCATTERED BY THE TEMPEST. 363

standing. “Where did all these come from? Is there a
wreck on the beach ?” : :

“No, Kate,” said Socrates; “before you are the ill-gotten
hoardings and accumulations of a long lifetime; the price of
human blood,—the price of a precious soul is there! The wages
of dark deeds are contained in that little bag, and she that has
well earned them has discovered, now that the light of life is
flickering and low, that they are worthless! These, the rewards
of dark deeds, were hid away from the light as soon as re-
ceived, but now they again come forth to the light of day to
mock their deluded possessor. Great God! how depraved and
grovelling is the human heart !”’

“ Kate,” said Doctor Skyelake, in a gentle tone, “ do you
remember the sweet face of Dear Mamma?”

“Oh, I'll never forget her pretty face,” said Kate. “It
has been a long time, but I know it as well now as when she
was here,” Pita

“Open that little box: a picture is there; tell me if it is

like her.”
: Kate opened the box and took from it a miniature taken on
ivory. No sooner had her eyes rested on the gentle face than
she exclaimed, joyfully, “It is her! it is Dear Mamma! she
that told me about heaven and the angels! Oh, it is she that
loved Kate!” ;

Stam came and looked down over the shoulder of his wife
at the picture. “It cs a pretty one, sure enough,” he said.
“ Is it her, Kate 9”

“ Yes, yes, Stam ; it is that pretty wrecked one! Oh, Stam,
she loved Kate!”

“She loved you, indeed, Kate,” said Doctor Skyelake.
“She brought you into life; you were her baby, and she
loved you as you love yours. Young as you were when she
left you to go and be with the angels, yet, it is not strange
that her beautiful image has remained upon the heart of her
child. Ah, Kate, I saw the parting of mother and child; it
was a sorrowful sight! She died in the dark waters when the
tempest was raging. I was there; she placed you in my arms,
then she died ; but God spared you and me. We were all that
reached the shore alive. Your father was there too; Papa
and Dear Mamma sank down in each other’s embrace ; I never
saw them more. They embraced you; they kissed you the

 
     

  

 

364 KATE WEATHERS; OR,

    
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
  
   
  
  
 
  
 
 
 
 
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
   

sad farewell; then you were left with me. A billow came
crashing and sweeping the ship's decks: they were torn
away by the angry floods, and you were left an orphan in the
cold, merciless world, old enough to lisp the name of Dear
Mamma, but too young to know how great, how beyond price
the treasure you lost in that dark sea. Yes, Kate, Dear
Mamma is an angel now, smiling upon her child from heaven.”

“ Pretty mamma!” said Kate, kissing the sweet face of the
picture. “Oh, pretty angel, Dear Mamma!”

CHAPTER, XXXVII.
A LECTURE ON DEVILS.

Ereut persons are grouped under the stunted oaks in front
of Stam Weathers’s hut. The face of Kate is lighted with
joyous surprise as she looks upon the miniature of Dear
Mamma that she has just taken from the little box. Stam is
looking down over his wife's shoulder at the picture; an ex-
pression of pleased wonder is on his face. Doctor Skyelake
stands at a little distance, with arms folded on his breast ; he
is silently watching the man and his wife, and smiling as he
does so. Gilsey, with the babe in her arms, stands between
Kate and Doctor Skyelake. A frown of deepest awe is on her
face as she gazes up into that of the strange old man. Luci-
fer’s place is a little in the rear of all these; but he is stretch-
ing out his neck to its utmost extent and inclining forward
his whole body, that he may bring himself into a position
the better to sce their faces; his mouth is half open, and
his protruding eyes are staring at Kate and at Stam and at
Doctor Skyelake; then back at Stam and at Kate; and so
continually from one to another, and then back. Socrates and
Nancy sit upon the sand, facing each other, a few yards in
front of the rest of the group. Her legs are stretched out
before her, her sharp heels in the sand, and her bony feet
sticking straight up; her head is slightly bowed, and her evil
eyes are rolled up beneath the shaggy brows to the face of
that awful man that knows everything. She sees nothing but

ie OR a ae NE

SCATTERED BY THE TEMPEST. 365

that face; she hears naught but the dreadful voice when he
speaks, Socrates’ benevolent face is turned earnestly toward
hers; his right forefinger is upraised and ready to descend
into the left palm. He hopes, by his mild word and earnest
gesture to attract her attention toward himself, for a fair op-
portunity has arrived for the delivery of the lecture on the
Pear Theory. j

That group (excepting Socrates) was for a time motionless :
its figures were as still as statues. Socrates, though not noisy,
was restless. Socrates Junior possessed as rich a store of
patience as Socrates Senior ever did; they both had their
Severe trials. Socrates Senior had Xantippe to deal with ;
Socrates Junior, Nancy. The Senior Socrates had his way of
pee with Xantippe; the Junior, his way of dealing with

ancy. ;

Tiree times in succession, at reasonable intervals, too, that
right forefinger descended into the left palm; the gesture
each time accompanied with the words, “ And now, my dear
madam, if you will allow me to have your attention. But
Nancy Weathers paid no more attention to either gesture or
word than if the highest peak of the Altai Mountains had
been between herself and Socrates Junior. The benevolent
expression faded away and away from Socrates’ face, until at
last every trace of it had disappeared. The lecture that he had
taken such a world of pains to prepare must be indefinitely
postponed. But he was fully determined now that the stolid
and crime-hardened creature should be brought back to right
reason,—if, indeed, such a thing were within the range of possi-
bilities—and he would try the effect of harsher measures with
her. So, without further ado, he reached forward, and grasp-
ing the inattentive and sullen hag by both her shoulders, he
shook her back and forth with great violence, saying, in a
loud and commanding tone, as he did so, “ Listen !”

So astounded was Nancy at this sudden and very rude
assault that, without in the least bending her stretched-out
legs, or raising her heels clear of the sand, she sprang a foot
high, reaching out her arms as she did so, and flapping them
rapidly up and down as if they had been wings; then she
dumped heavily back into the very spot from whence she had
arisen, Nor was Nancy the only startled one of that group.
Gilsey, supposing that it had thundered, screamed so loudly

31*

 
  

 

   

366 KATE WEATHERS; OR,

 

that the baby awoke and screamed too; and Lucifer, whose
eyes happened to turn to Nancy the instant she sprang from
the sand, exclaimed, in a loud voice, “ Look at her! I swear
she’s off, sure ’nough!” He had no doubt but that she had
started out five hundred miles from the beach, to be dumped
into the sea.

“ Be composed, Nancy,” said Socrates, “and listen to me.
With the assurances that you have had from the truly great
and wonderful personage who has unlocked the very deepest
and darkest chambers of your heart, and brought out to light
the terrible secrets that for long years have been prisoned
there, that he will not harm you, or inflict present punish-
ment upon you, however richly you may deserve it,—I say,
with these assurances, you have great cause to rejoice, and to
look about you hopefully, and with purpose to amend your
ways. You have encouragement to set about you, on the right
hand and on the left, driving away the devilish passions that
have all along held you as their prisoner and slave. It is full
time, Nancy, that you were looking to your own heart, with
the view of making the honest attempt to cleanse and purify
it, at least to some extent; for, depend upon it, its condition
is no better than were the Augean stables when Hercules took
them in hand. Devil spores spring like hydra-heads from
every point about it, and these should be rubbed off and
crushed.

“The human heart, it is true, is but a little thing,—not
much bigger than a sugar-pear,—and yet a whole legion of
full-grown devils can get into it and have abundance of room.
I doubt not you will be surprised if you will look into your
heart, Nancy; it may be (and yet, understand me, I make no
assertion that such is the case) that if the devils that have
their domicile there were mustered out ‘ single file,’ they. would
reach around this globe! Think of that! And yet, one
brave arm of flesh, armed with proper weapons, may overcome
even so formidable an array; for, grim as devils may appear,
they are, after all, arrant cowards. - Now, I do not mean to say
that the routing and destruction of such an army would be an
easy task, but only that such a thing is within the range of
possibilities.

“Where, you may ask, do so many devils come from? I
have said that the human heart is prolific; every point in it

  

  

   
 
 
 
 
  
 
  
  
 
   
 
 
 
   
  
  
 
 
 
 
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
    
    
   
   
 
 

Svinte ie

SCATTERED BY THE TEMPEST. 367

CJ

half the size of a needle-point is capable of sending forth
twenty spores, and each spore may produce a score of ~—
Then these devils breed among themselves, like pismires, an
Stow as rapidly to maturity. A crop of forty thousand may
come into existence in the morning, and before night they are
all full-grown and ready for active duty. Peep into your own
heart and watch the operations there for one day!

“What is to be done? you may ask. How is one's heart
ever to be freed of such pests? Why, make it continually hot
for them by cutting and skying among them? Let them —
that you are in earnest, and you will see that they are a set 0
the veriest cowards and braggarts,—you will drive them be-
fore you like sparrows before a goshawk. Have no truce or
parley with them, for they are a rabble of outlaws that know
not what honor is. :

“‘ Now, you have been going down-hill these seventy years,
until you have almost reached the bottom. What do you ex-
pect to find there worth having? Take my word for it, you
had better turn square around and go climbing back as fast as
you can go. Thrust the dark legions away from you, and oe
the companionship of peace, love, mercy, and the like. a
venture to say you will never quit their company after you .
come well acquainted with them. But don’t deceive aay
by supposing that those evil beings who have been your li “
time companions will fly away and leave you at your simple
command. They will stick the closer to you when you turn
and start from them ; they will be continually tugging at you
and drawing you back ; they will keep close enough to you to
keep you plastered from head to foot with excuses for your
past conduct. But have your eyes open and your weapons
ready, and keep them from pasting their bills if you can.
Remember that they are the aggressors, and that you have the
right to protect yourself even if you should have to resort to
rough measures; therefore let there be no molitur manus im-
poswit about your action; but go at them wi et armis ; cut
and slay from right to left and with vim. ; ; 4 ‘

“ Bear with me, Nancy; I have no desire to trifle with mis-
fortune or mock at wretchedness, nor am I one to wish to roll
heavy weights on one who has already fallen beneath a toppling
Mountain. My desire is to press upon you by plain speech
the fact that your whole life has been one of heinous crime,

eer idieinpeictaatceclgustl Ypdilaaenip sired

 

 

SSL ble lin lini smn
 

   

368 KATE WEATHERS; OR,

in the hope that you may spend the few days that remain for
you as a reasonable creature should do ; that is, by struggling

fo)
upward to light, instead of down deeper into misery and dark-

ness. So much for devils. But again :

“Imagine, Nancy, that you stand arraigned before a court
of justice to be tried for your crimes. What a bill of indict-
ment would that be that should contain all the crimes and
offences of your life! What a multitude of counts! What
a long list of distinct crimes! and what a number of terrible
penalties would follow the verdict that justice would render!
Take this one affair of the man and child that were wrecked
twenty-nine years ago; how do you stand? Let us see:
(Ist) you instigated the murder of a man; (2d) you insti-
gated the murder of a child; (3d) (for I take it that the in-
tent, unrepented of, is the deed) you murdered a man; (4th)
by the same reasoning you murdered a child; (5th) you
are the abductor of a child; (6th) nay, worse, you enticed
another to steal a child; (7th) you entered a dwelling by
force in the night-time, with intent to commit a felony—you
are therefore a burglar ; (8th) you advanced toward sleeping
parties with a drawn knife in your hand, with intent, it may
reasonably be said, to take human life,—you are therefore an
assassin; (9th) you compelled another, by force, to deliver to
you his money and goods,—you are therefore a robber ; (10th)
you withheld from your accomplice in crime his share of ill-
gotten goods—you are therefore unfaithful and a thief ;
(11th) you made incorrect statements to the man you robbed
as well as to your accomplice,—you are therefore a malicious
liar. But there is no need to extend the list, for enough has
been enumerated to hang six men and imprison for life five
others ; and all the work of one hour's time! What plea
could be made for you with effect upon the trial? I question
much, Nancy, that even that of insanity would avail you!”

Not one-half of this lengthy lecture was listened to by
Naney, or by any other present; but, for all that, Socrates,
who was himself deeply interested, went on unrolling and un-
winding until he got to the very end.

“Have you but this child?” asked Doctor Skyelake of
Kate.

“ He’s all,” she said, with a sigh; “the rest is all gone.
Two died when they was little, and they’re buried under the

 

   

Tue 2 tee Ae a

   
 
    
  
  
  
   
  
 
 
  
 
 
  
 
  
 
 
  
 
 
   
  
 
  
  
  
  
  
   
    
  
  
 
 
  
  
  
 
 
  
  

a area i i

SCATTERED BY THE TEMPEST. 369

trees on t’other side of the hill yonder. ‘Then there was two
more; and they’re gone ne bs 2
“Gone where?” asked the old man.
Kate looked into her husband’s face, but made n0 _, E
“Tell him,” said Stam; “tell him all about it; don
afeerd, for I shan’t never forgit no more. ;
«They was stole away,” said Kate; “stole, and carried
away off and drownded !”
ee Kate! hard though she struggled, she a“ 8, ~~
back the sobs; she could not prevent the mother’s _ se
flowing. But she felt the hand that held hers to wa yi
instantly the sobs were hushed, the tears were brus 7 sen
“Oh, Stam !” she gasped, as her frightened face turne
her husband’s, “ you won’t forgit ?” :
“Tell it all, Rate: I shan’t never break my promise no
er? ?” asked Doctor
“Your children stolen away and drowned é i s
Skyelake. “Drowned, Kate? Who drowne My ae hie
No answer was returned, for now Kate held her fa
hands and was weeping a a
Nancy sat trembling and convulsed. ;
i Miserable woman!” said Doctor Skyelake, addressing the
hag, “can you not answer the question ?
“Yes!” she answered. a
“Tell me, then, who it was. peak but the truth !
“Tt was Jim and Pegzy—and—me ! ae
Not another word was spoken for some time: all —
aghast and horrified staring at the guilty old creature . oe
head was now bowed low, and whose quivering eyes . -
down upon the sand. At last she continued : Stam on
Peggy for takin’ up with a nigger, and that’s the —
and her got their spite; Lucifer lied to me and kept es" =
gittin’ the money that was buried, and that’s the way Pe -
mine; then Jim and Peggy give me ten of the a
in that bag to help about gittin’ ’em off. That's the way
it!”
“ Great God!” exclaimed Doctor Skyelake, ‘“ to what depths
may humanity descend !” 5
© Don't kill me! don’t kill me!” screamed the hag oe
piteous tone. “T’ll tell it all—all, like it was! Ss ‘ a
many a year, but I ain’t forgot! We took the old s
Q*

ee OF ne

 
 

  

370 KATE WEATHERS; OR,

tow: it was dark and stormy. We crossed the sound: the
wind was howlin’, howlin’, howlin’ up the dark river! Jim
put the younguns in the skiff and turned her adrift, We
beat back here; we anchored the boat at the landin’. When
day come ag’in we was all here,—that’s the last of it! We
was here,—they ain’t never been here since !”

“ Merciful heaven!” exclaimed Doctor Skyelake. “Go,
Lucifer, go and make ready the boat; instantly ! instantly |
and let us be off!”

Lucifer waited not to inquire into the cause of this unex-
pected order, but went off in a brisk jog, not even turning
his head once to look back, and he was followed closely by
Doctor Skyelake.

Stam and Kate were astonished ; they only stood and fol-
' lowed with their eyes the retreating forms until they were hid
beyond the angle in the path. Socrates was the only one who
did not seem surprised. He stood holding his hands behind
his back and smiling placidly a time, then he said:

“T know you do not understand the meaning of this caper,
but J understand it very well, and I will stay long enough to
explain : Doctor Skyelake is subject to fits of insanity, and all
that there is about this affair is, that one of these fits is now
upon him; in less than an hour he will be all right again, and
as sane as the sanest man that lives. For all that he is afflicted
with these occasional fits, he is a most profound philosopher.
Nor is his an exceptional case of the kind: it is a common in-
firmity (if infirmity it be) with philosophers and scientists.
I have known of cases of what you would call madness to
continue a week, or even two weeks or more, and, strange to
say, during those very periods of seeming insanity the greatest
discoveries and the grandest and most sublime compositions
would be brought forth by the afflicted. But I must follow,
or I shall keep them waiting for me.” Saying this Socrates
turned and moved rapidly off toward the landing ; but to his
great surprise he discovered when he reached the sound-side
that the boat containing Lucifer and Doctor Skyelake was a
full half-mile out from shore, heading under full sail and
before a stiff breeze toward Roanoke Island. For some time
he did nothing but stand there and look out at the boat that
was speeding continually farther and farther away from him,
for he thought that they had forgotten him, and that when

  

   
 
     
 
 

core eet

 
   
   
  
   
  
 
 
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
  
  
 
 
 
  
   
 
 
 
  
  
  
  
 
  
  
  
  
  
  
   

   

   
  
   

SCATTERED BY THE TEMPEST. 371

they should come to remember that he had been left behind,
they would put the boat about and beat back for him. —
not a single time were their faces turned toward him, ae
he stood there until they had reached the island-shore an
furled the sails, and stepped to the land and passed from
view.

Finding that he could do nothing better, Socrates then
turned about and retraced his steps to Stam’s house, and <n
he found all exactly as he had left it, except, that Stam an
his wife and Gilsey and the baby had gone into the house.
The trunk and little box were there, and even the bag of
money was on the trunk-lid still. Nancy was still sitting at
the same place and in the same position, her legs stretched out
before her, her heels in the sand, and her feet sticking straight
up; but now that the dreadful man was not there to be leered
at, she kept her sullen eyes fixed steadily upon her great tee
As Socrates approached near to her, he made a graceful a
and remarked, “You look disconsolate, madam; take my ml
vice and arise and walk around, for no doubt the exercise mes
benefit you; but, besides that, the many objects that wou
present themselves for your observation would have the effect
of drawing your thoughts off from the painful subjects that
have been engaging them recently. Long continued and fi L
vere thought upon any one subject may, after a time, be ed
lowed by insanity, and certainly nothing is more to be dreade
than that. Let’ me assist you to arise, for I think you must
be very cramped and stiff.” : ‘as

“Go away from here!” said Nancy, fiercely. “I’m goin

' to stay right here till he comes back. "Think I'm goin’ to have

him pitchin’ of me out into the sea?” vue
“Your determination is an unwise and rash _one, said
Socrates, “for it may be a week, or a month, or possibly a whole
year before the philosopher returns. I see, madam, that you
Still refuse to take this money into your possession, though
you were told that you could safely do so. Let’s see how much
there is of it.” Saying this, he took the bag from the trunk-
lid, sat down, and crossed his legs under him as a tailor does
when he sits on his board, and emptied the coin from the bag
into his lap ; then, holding the mouth of the bag open with

his left hand, he dropped it back piece by piece, counting
aloud as he did so,

 

 
 

372 KATE WEATHERS; OR,

“All Spanish doubloons,” he said, “and twenty-five of
them. Let us say that the sum is equivalent to eighty pounds
sterling,—four hundred American dollars, Now fifteen of
these pieces are from the wrecked man, and ten are from Jim
and Peggy. There were four persons,—the wrecked man and
child, and the two children of Kate. Divide this sum into
four equal parts, and we will have twenty pounds,—one hun-
dred dollars for each part. It strikes me, Nancy, that you
have made an exceedingly poor thing out of the transaction,—
the devil has the bargain all on his side. He is a shrewd old
fox; and if it were not for such business as this, and such
bargains as this, he would have to suspend business, and then
he would be sure to lose caste and credit, OF course he would ;
for think how insignificant a wretch a bankrupt devil would
be! His best friend would be sure to give him the cold
shoulder. Ha! ha! a bankrupt devil.”

“Get up, mammy,’’ said Stam, in a kind but sad tone,
“and go into the house; Kate and Gilsey has cooked up some
wittles for you.”

“Yes, go in the house and eat by all means,” said Socrates,
“for I think you are hungry; and if you will listen to my
advice you will take charge of this money, and put it to some
good use; by so doing you will inflict a severe blow on the
devil's head.”

“Tshan’t take it!” said Nancy, sullenly, as she pushed the
proffered bag from her.

“Then I shall hold it in trust for you,” said Socrates, as he
dropped the bag into his pocket. “TI hope you will yet take
my advice though and put it to some good use. It is the
pitiful reward from a hard master for seventy years of slavish
toil; and yet it may be wisely invested for good. It is the
scanty fruit of a blighted harvest, Nancy ; and yet it is seed
that, if sowed on good ground and skilfully cultivated, may
produce ten-thousand-fold at the next harvesting.”

pea ee

  

    
     
   
  
    
 
  
  
  
 
  
 
   
   
 
  
 
  
  
 
 
 
 
   
  
 
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  

ina,

  

SCATTERED BY THE TEMPEST. 373

CHAPTER XXXVIII.

A LECTURE ON THE PEAR THEORY.

“TAKE one of these bundles of fagots, cong e =
take the other ; stand there, six feet from me, bog: * on
toward Croatan, and be ready to light yours as 3 nia Bg all
then hold yours up higher than your head, exac “J Comfort
hold mine. Sit down there on that tuft of sath ame, es will
and look about -you as much as you like. a acl long
have plenty to do by and by, for [ think ee the way ;
before I shall hear from my honored friends viateg the coe
and if they are not here with us in less time than :
I shall be greatly mistaken.” aj

So inks Doster Skyelake, as he and Comfort a _—
stood at the North End on the night of the day tha
had been left behind on North Banks. mes to-night?”

“ What” said Lucifer. Is they comin’ over to-night?

“T wish I had a-knowed about it sooner in the ge come
Comfort. “TI didn’t have no idee that they ree S. Shouldn’t
to-night, or I should been cookin’ up some wittles. | Shoulct
wonder if they was a-hungry when they gits anes ge
take a right smart mess for nine, too. Lors a I bilieve they
to think that ghosts didn’t eat folk’s wittles, but 1 Fong A
loves it *bout as good as I does,—ain’t no difference os “te
I’ve seen. I wonder you hadn’t told me they was ethin’ ai
night. The younguns of ’em will sure to at et ied
minit they gits here; that me will Peni tae ie
won't o fix up a little some vag y

Ke Yon ane jn ete tied that,” said Lucifer, Pitas: ;
plenty of fish, and plenty of ‘taters, and a ye it is,
plenty of honey, and plenty of milk. And a h Il have to
there'll have to be some cookin’ done, and = ere some
wait a spell if they is hongry. : I guess they II git
fashion.” : ig’

“Now, Lucifer,” said the doctor, “up with beet ag
There, that’s right; hold a a so. Bend your ey

 
 

     
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
  
  

374 KATE WEATHERS; OR,

Croatan, and if my friends are there, it will not be man

minutes before we shall know it. How the torches blaze !

This is excellent lightwood that you have got for us.”

“ You said you wanted good,—and good it is,” said Lucifer.
“ You, too, may keep a lookout, if you like, Comfort,” said

the doctor.

“ Needn’t tell me that,” she said, “ fo
out with all my eyes—Oh, lorsy !”

Comfort made this exclamation as two bright lights burst
out from the opposite shore; and, as she made it, she sprang
to her feet with the nimbleness of a girl of sixteen and

ward, and stood crouching between the two blazing

bounded for
torches.

“Comfort!” said Lucifer, reproachfully, “ hanged if you
hadn’t better mind how you carries on now!” This is pertickler
bizness, and you'd ought not to be trottin’ around that way.
It’s ‘nough to make ’em think that you was skeerd if they
should happen to see you. You mustn’t forgit that we ain’t
used to this sort of folks; and, for all you knows, if they
should see you cuttin’ up such capers, they’d be after puttin’
a spell on you, and on me, too! Don't go cavortin’ around
that way no more, then. The best way for you to do is like
you sees me doin’. Make b’lieve you’ve been used to sich as
they is ever since you was a little gal. Hanged if you won't
git us both into a hobble yet if you don’t watch |”

“See here, Lucifer, wave your light back and forth as you

See me wave mine!”’ said Doctor Skyelake. « There, that is
well done! Now extinguish your light.”

“Lord bless us!” said Comfort.  “ Look
wavin’, too! What in the name of peace is you doin’,
Lucifer ?—puttin’ your light out? Look a-here, our folks,
you ain’t a-goin’ to put that other one out too, is you?”

“Comfort, Comfort!” said Doctor Skyelake, “be brave,
woman! Now come here, Lucifer, and help me to lash my
torch to the top of this stake. We must let it burn so that
our friends may know how to steer ; and I know no good
reason why this stake should not be made to do the holding-
up, instead of you or I having to stand with our arms stretched
up for an hour or more.” °

“ Jes’ so,” said Lucifer. “ Fact is, I feels weak a’ready,
somehow.”

yonder; they’re

r I’m already lookin’

—— 5

 

a .

375
SCATTERED BY THE TEMPEST.

ns - “and I
“Tt’s skeer that makes you feel so,” _ a rag to keep
don’t wonder neither, for it’s just as much as

b gether:

stuck in the ground; and the whole party cog i

and awaited the coming of Doctor Skyelake’s d. Every now

The doctor was in an unusually happy moo r actions and
and then he would laugh heartily at the quee

: LS oth his man-
quaint expressions of Lucifer and his wife; and bi

; F . Hereto-
ner and appearance were anything but terrible now

: lace
fore it had been the case that whenever —— bee in
or was said that did not please him, * egies pe and his
such a low, sepulchral bass as to frig a: would scarcely
wife almost into fits; and at such ween ae Jo’ or their fet)
know whether they were standing on their heac Tae
until he should take on a more natural per the ground.
a voice that did not seem to be coming up ih ix foie past ;
But there had been nothing of. this for o ae iain ae
on the other hand, all was smiles and Ae Bo believe that
him. A stranger could hardly have been ma h d ever learned
one so amiable as Doctor Skyelake then was ha’
to kn hat anger is. stantl

If it had ae te that a bevy of ean thet poly a
expected to heave in sight through weg care have been as
the waters, both Lucifer and feet eines could be;
happy, sitting there on the dry rushes, oly nervous. They
but, as it was, they were both exceedingly the sound,—nay,
were continually casting their eyes out ra ving for oninetes
Sometimes stooping forward their bodies an y re other in the
at a time in silence, then turning one ear “I Now and then
direction of Croatan, and listening attentively st the flipping of
they would jump almost out of their ~ full as nervous as
a jumping-mullet; and, in fact, Lucifer was nner happy ; and
his wife. Yet, for all this, they were in a <r" ple spasms of
at times they would even break forth in sn Be made by
laughter at hearing some unusually funny exp
Doctor Skyelake. < ” said the

“Tell me, Lucifer Grindle and Comfort eer so
doctor, “ what manner of rea regalo
be who are soon to land at this very if

“T should say,” Lucifer answered, “that they looks as

     
    

 

 

KATE WEATHERS; OR,

they were a thousan’
big bald heads, and lor

year old. I should guess they’ve all got
1g white beards (even to the women and _

younguns), and big bellies, and short stout legs, and little

curlycued horns
hooks downwards
almost fetches the noses, and te

“No; let me tell, let me tell!” said Comfort, impatiently.

“ Well,” said the doctor, “ Lucifer will wait.
fort.”

“And feet two foot long,”
legs sot plumb in the middle,
back’ards_as fur as the toe een

- “Wait, Lucifer,” said D
few minutes to your wife.”

“T should say,” said Comfort, “that it is sorter this way:
they are a people that has fins and scaleg and shells, and that

 

 

d does for’ards, and mi

has six or more legs, and that has lone

& p’inted eyes, and noses
that looks like tits, and heads that draws in and out o’ ther’

shells like tarapins’ heads does, and that has web-claws, and
shell-bellies, and a
“Hanged to death if they ain't comin’!” said Lucifer,

springing wildly to his feet as he spoke. “Here they comes
sure ‘nough |”

 

“Qh, lorsy !” Comfort exclaimed, as she ran and crouched
behind her husband. « Oh, lorsy !”

* There stands dear Basil !” said a sweet voice from the boat,
that had now nearly reached the shore.

“Oh, lorsy !” groaned Comfort, without venturing to raise
her head or take her hands from her face, « What’s it they’re
talkin’ about, Lucifer? Oh, lorsy !””

“ Don’t take—take—take on—on so—” said Lucifer, whose
knees were banging fiercely together as he spoke. “Make
b’lieve—b'lieve Comfort—you ain’t—ain’t-skeered a bit—ain’t
skeered a bit—bit, Comfort ! :

“Look up, Lucifer and Comfort,” said Doctor Skyelake ;

“for I do assure you that you have no cause for fear, as you
yourselves may see: these are my friends and yours.”

he boat's bow touched the sand than
Fawn and Timon bounded out and into the open arms of old

Basil. “God bless my precious children!” he said. The
only reply that came to these words of blessing was the closer

octor Skyelake; “give way fora

, and ears that flabs down, and long noses that
» and p’inted chins that hooks upwards and

Go on, Com-

continued Lucifer, “with the
leavin’ the heel eend to shoot

—e e

 

SCATTERED BY THE TEMPEST. 377

} f pure
embrace of tender loving arms, and the sobs and tears of p
affection. . itness of the
Paul stood on the head of the boat, a silent oT sioel erect
joyous meeting. “Fawn,” he said, as old nce and Timon
again and held his children’s hands, “ I pn agihety you will _
will be near when we find papa; if you nvike this,—mamma
find that it will be a meeting something like this meme
and Lucie and Murat will ery ; the little baby Bios a dis.
reach out her arms; I shall hug and kiss Pot that I won't
to be sure, but I shall not ery a single drop. t and Frangois
be as glad as anybody to see him, but tam ; and it is so,
both say that I am getting to be a very big boy ie d of erying
for look at me! Big boys and men laugh Pepe as ever
when they are happy; you will hear me laug
J me 5 d
"1 Sane not,” said Frangois, «Ty see a att
tear rolling out from each of Master Paul’s two ey'
now.” wat Fran-
Paul was taken somewhat aback by this veered bhi i
gois’s. “ Yes, Frangois,” he said, as he wipe know,—not for
“but I eried these for Fawn and Timon, you ’
myself.” : * aising
"Tethe and Comfort were greatly surprised, meat ‘aes
their heads and looking around, at seeing 80
faces. é -
ye but look!” said Comfort in a low tone to her hus
band; “TI told you they was purty r : :
se if knowed it before you told me, said soe voured by
“TI suppose you have no fears now of — enka
my friends?” said Doctor Skyelake to Lucifer if t: * there's
“Lord bless ther purty souls a8 said = os Bie
more danger I should say of their gittin ea aT should say
“Tf I didn’t know better,” said Lucifer,
that this Jim Beam’s boat.” ries t
~ aa wee snihahle it is his,” said Frangois. ‘But wha
is it about Jim Beam’s boat ?” oot k
“Why, she was stole and carried off by a gang of drunken
devils, so they tell me.” ge sa ee
evi no Ss peace se he very same boat, said hiss i Pe
found her near the shore, and are ready at any time to

her to the proper owner.”
32*

    
 

 

    

 

378 KATE WEATHERS; OR,

“Warn’t no one in her when you found her?” asked Lu-
cifer.

“ Not a soul.”

“It’s mighty good in you,” said Comfort, “to pick up
folks’s boats that's been stole, and fetch ‘em to them that’s lost
’em.”

While this conversation was going on between Lucifer and
his wife and Frangois, old Basil was at a little distance away,

giving an account to Marie and Jeannot of what he had been

doing, and how matters stood at present. “All before us is
now bright and hopeful,” he said, in a low tone; “I cannot
now explain, but this much I will say: we are now in a
favorable condition to strike out forthwith in the search for
the lost one. You, madam, and all the children and Jeannot,
will follow these old people to their home, and remain there
until you hear from me again; Frangois and I will cross over
to the coast without delay. I will say one thing more to you
before we part: I have impressed the people hereabout with
the belief that I am possessed of supernatural powers; not
only so, but that myself and you all are spirits lately resur-
rected. Be not astonished, therefore, at anything you may
hear, and by all means keep up the deception, for more depends
upon that than you can now imagine. I am known by the
name of Doctor Skyelake. I have told them of your coming;
and they are prepared to know Frangois as Arthur Barlow,
Jeannot as Philip Amidas, and you, madam, as Barlow’s wife.
Barlow and Amidas were captains that brought their ships
from England to this island a.p. 1585. Instruct the children
as well as you can, and be cautious. Francois and I will return
here soon; in the mean time, fear nothing, for you will be not
only safe, but comparatively comfortable and well cared for.”

“We understand,” said Jeannot.

“ Lucifer and Comfort!” said old Basil, “ the renowned Ar-
thur Barlow and myself have important matters in hand that
must be attended to without delay. This lady and her chil-
dren and the great Philip Amidas will follow you to your
house and remain there until we return.” The boat was then
pushed from shore, and the old man, with Frangois, sailed
away on the dark waters toward the sea-coast , the rest of the

company went following Lucifer and Comfort along the path
toward their home.

   
     

SCATTERED BY THE TEMPEST. 379

M4 “

Kt iain will way,” said the old man to pags .
the house of Stam Weathers, a dweller on “54 were left)
upon Stam and Lucifer (the old mnan whom bir nt ae before
that we shall depend chiefly for aid in the wor h com for all
us to be done. Stam you will find to be rough, ot esa: aie
that a generous, noble-hearted man ; and as Lpewte If F the
wife is not a whit behind him in good qualities. | it tie
man for whom you are searching be still oe oi reat
but that we shall find him; for now, Frangois, there 1s g
hope.” ” gai 5

“God grant that your hope be well grounded, Ber, bites
gois, “and that the good man be speedily restore chain
fectionate family! Sure am I that on beerysee? this man’s
could have borne the heavy trials and afilictions : ‘d fortitude ;
loving family have borne with more patience ne heinte: ‘tid
and equally sure I am, from what I have reg as is he whoni
no man is more deserving of such a family ee but have
we seek ; to know well such a vont ee.

a more favorable opinion of mankind. + gat i

“7 dusk re the truth of what-you et Fh alle
For limited as my acquaintance with the laty tie their
dren is, I have learned the character of the ¢ ra r dhictionslih
artless manner and bright, glad faces ; and o get wonan.
in the wife the loving, hoping, trusting, Jen the scope
The man who is fortunate enough to come within

i xalted ;
of the influence of a good woman must cog Se There is
he cannot but arise above the mere animal man. state as a

nothing earthly that approaches so near the angel
pure, good a fe: He brow is ever encircled ace we
halo, which even to behold is happiness. That saoeead open
that comes streaming down to earth through ; d thence on
portals of heaven falls on her face and is a he-senal
everything around ; and he that stands in the lig apa ee aie
back the ray, may catch glimpses of the beauteou:
whence it came. icti

“ Woman, frail and weak, yet how strong! ee Ss
fall with force sufficient to crush the giant she bears mA sink
feeble shoulders. Sorrows that cause the strong man him to
writhing to the earth,—disappointments that cause

faint and despair,—clouds that arise before him and hide away

il
the glory scenes he so loved to gaze upon ;—these press heavily

    
 

   

 

380 KATE WEATHERS; OR,

upon her, too; these lie crushing on her heart as well as on
his; these gloom her pathway, too; but how she looks up!
How, still, she trusts! never losing sight of the guide-light
that glimmers through the gloom above, however deep that
gloom may be, but ever struggling on! Oh, precious woman |
angel mother ; loving, trusting wife ; affectionate sister ; daugh-
ter; gentle friend: how glad, dear companion, how joyous
may be the journey of life with you!

“Precious woman: that brings us forth into the life that
Omniscience wills ; that encircles us with her affectionate arms,
and holds us, feeble and helpless as we are, to her loving
bosom,—to the heart that throbs with ours,—to the pure foun-
tains that gush forth there and give us sustenance. How
beautiful is life with precious woman for a companion in the
journey! Her sweet smile is the first light that falls on our

unconscious faces; her words of love are the first strains of .

music that touch our ears and soothe with their melody our
early griefs; she is with us at first; she is at our side as we
start upon the journey; she never departs from us; however
dark the clouds that may arise, she continues with us to cheer
us through hours of gloom ; however fierce the tempests shriek
and howl, however chill the wintry blast, she leaves us not:
alone. She is ever with us: to love, to cherish, to make glad
while the journey of this life lasts; and who knows but that
that sweet face that was first to greet us with the light of its
smile upon our coming into this life, will greet us first upon
our passage through the portals of the next ?”

“And yet,” said Frangois, “look at the other face of your

picture: how dark it is! Heaven and beauty are on one side, —

hell and dreariness on the other. Look at her that steps aside
from the paths of rectitude and virtue and goes wandering
through the gloom that has no star to light it,—upon her that
has erred! See her as she steps from the precipice: how
rapidly she falls—falls! how deeply she plunges in the dark
gulf! Wings on the angel of virtue waft her up, up, up into
the light of heaven,—into the light that wraps her form in
rarer brilliancy and splendor the. higher she ascends. Wings
on the falling angel bear her swooping down, down, down into
the abysm of utter blackness, where deeper grows the gloom

the lower she descends. Ah, who can witness the falling
angel's flight and not weep !”

 

  

 

   

ey
#

 

SCATTERED BY THE TEMPEST. 381

“Who approaches at this late hour?” called a ease
from the shore, at which the boat had nearly arrived.
“ Friends, Socrates,” said old Basil.
“Ah! so you have returned, profound
I am truly glad at your coming, for I have
nightfall but to sit here and watch for you : tes, to
“What has occurred in my absence, friend Ee
pare <n Was Cee wear aie i hing remains
“Nothing has occurred: everything ren on
but there is exactly where the difficulty lies. The —_
are in the very spot that Nancy placed them OE elf has
have the bag of money in my pocket), and re saad her
Searcely stirred since you left. No persuasion can 1m bved
to arise or eat or drink until she shall have your Y akail
to do so; for she is firmly convinced that the — errar nr
attempt to leave her place, that instant she wou ee Oe
from the beach five hundred miles and then ey rows not
most down forty miles to the bottom of the sea. mivent i
even spoken a word since you left, except to ote her long
when questioned ; and all she does is to sit there a od Selle
bol arms hanging at her sides, her a _ ae
er sullen eyes around when one goes nea : ;
“ Who Neg the woman you speak of ?” asked besser yr
three men made their way along the versa same ithe
house. . iser-
“Tt is one of your falling angels, Frangois,—a poor, brink
able creature, who stands gloomily upon pees sinkin n her
with the burden of many years of crime resting i fore
head. Sin and wretchedness are graven deeply upon aedeath
head, and in her bosom are harbored revenge, nal its ies
Dishonor dims the lustre of her gray hairs. Ref a
Veiled in her deep, fierce eyes, and gazes ooldly Hy hheek ; and
blush. Misery has deeply scarred her haggard ¢ atin: fe
shadows hang around her too dark and po a ps boa
heaven’s sunlight to penetrate. Wherever abou ites! pres
eyes may turn, there the finger-prints of sin are the merest
whether she be far or near, going, or ——S feared and
glance will tell you that she is a creature to be peared go
shunned. Whithersoever she may turn her wea, s seem
shadow and darkness. The very flowers dito pede er
to fade and lose their beauty when she draws near to hel")

and venerated sir!
done nothing since

”

in statu quo ;

  
   

 
 
 
 
 

  

382 KATE WEATHERS; OR,
the voice of merriment and joy is hushed until she has passed;
glad faces pale in her presence,—ay, even innocence stands
shuddering while she continues near. Poor falling angel !”

“T think you had better remain here at the step until I go
into the house and light these fagots,” said Socrates ; “for it
seems to be very dark in there.”

“No,” said old Basil, as he stepped in, “We may help
you to light them,”

A few coals were glowing on the hearth, affording but a
feeble relief to the deep darkness that reigned around.

“ Are you asleep, Stam ?” asked Socrates,

“No. What are you going to do, Socrates ?”

“ Doctor Skyelake has returned, bringing a strange friend
with him. And I wish to light these sticks, so that we may
see one another, for I love the light. Like the shoemaker of
Bagdad, if I had but two farthings of daily income, with one
of those two I should purchase a candle to burn at night. I
am a zealous advocate for light. More intimate acquaintance
and more lasting and agreeable friendships are formed in the
light than in the darkness. Darkness has a great number of
ugly brothers, of whom are superstition, doubt, distrust, sus-
picion, and jealousy. Light abhors all of these, and so do I.
More crime is committed and more misery brought upon
mankind during the hours of darkness (and those are the
very hours when men should be asleep and at rest) than dur-
ing the day,—the very time for men to be awake and active.

“Suppose, Stam, that I should be sitting here on this stool,
in the corner opposite to you, while the room should be dark
as it now is,—you might relate the most interesting thing in
the world in the most pleasant and agreeable voice and manner,
yet what you would say would be the merest dry prose to me.
Let me, by all means, see, as. well as feel, hear, taste, smell, and
think! Who could feel interest in a discourse that should be
pronounced behind a wall? Who would givea snap to hear an
oration pronounced by one as eloquent as Cicero, if the orator
should be shut up in a room and the audience on the outside?
It matters not how distinetly the orator’s voice may be heard,
or how thin the walls that intervene, I should gather as much
wisdom from the chattering of a monkey as from him,

“There! now the fagots are blazing! I will venture to say,
Stam, that forty new ideas have come into your mind in the

  
 
   
 

   
  
    
     
    
       
  
      
 
     
     
      
     
      
 
    
    
      
 
       
      
  
      
 
     
  
        
     
   
     
    
     
   
   
   
    
     
     
     
  

     
  

    
  

SCATTERED BY THE TEMPEST. 383

single instant that you have been glancing around —
objects that the light has revealed. Probably not wre 4
ideas would ever have come if it had continued mee T bt 3
me light ! By all means, let me use my eyes as muc - God's
let them be picturing upon the mind the es ont
glorious creations, for I take it that that was their s 1e aay
pose. Let me see, and I am content. I care not ent!
approaches there may be to the human heart, the very 8

cut of them all is through the eyes. :

Tt was seen, when the fagots got to blazing, that ery)
Kate were occupying a couple of the low stools i his of
the fireplace. Although it was now past midnight, neit voli
them had closed their eyes for sleep. They ese — ris
there for hours thinking, and proposing, and discussing Y to
for their future course in life; but much as they — te
leave the coast and seek a home in some other Lgeypcest! id
hot yet been able to mark out any certain line that pei cou
follow. The world around them was see i gee erie
unexplored region, every spot in which, viewe . — them
eyes, was exactly alike, and no spot more inviting itivel
than another: and now, at this late hour, they had posi = y
resolved on only one thing, that was to move out somew
into the great. unknown.

The return of Doctor Skyelake at that late hour —
be as great a surprise to Stam and Kate as had been his mo-
den departure on the afternoon before ; and now for os
pag they sat, mutely looking up at him and the strang
Who stood at his side.

“Stam,” said Doctor Skyelake, “I have come for you and
Kate. The boat is at the landing and only waits esos"

“Come for us? For what?” asked Stam.

“To take you across to the island.”

“To the island? For what?” asked Kate. “Tt is the

“ Doi not hesitate, my friends,” said Socrates. oh :
great man’s desire that you should 805 that is enoug 2 bs
without a question ; and my word for it, you will never reg
it,”

“‘ Where on the island?” Stam asked. : _

“To the house of Lucifer and Comfort Grindle. hort to

- Come,” said Socrates, ‘or the torch will burn too s “s the
light you to the boat.” Saying this he stepped out o

 
 

    

 

384 KATE WEATHERS; OR,
door carrying the blazing torch, and was soon followed by the
three other men and Kate. Socrates led the way toward
the boat. But the party had not got ten steps from the door
of the hut before the voice of Nancy was heard calling out in
a troubled tone, “ Ain’t you goin’ to take this spell off me
before you goes off ag’in ?”

“ Really, madam,” said Socrates, as he turned and went
toward her, holding the torch higher than his head as he
went, and peering forward under it, “we had forgot you. I
am glad you spoke, or very probably we would have passed on
without thinking about you. But why will you continue to
sit here in this manner ?”

“You know why,” she answered, sullenly.

“Stand up!” Doctor Skyelake commanded, “and go where
you will; I will see you at another time !”

“Where will you let me go?” she asked, as she arose to
her feet.

“T have told you,—wherever you will.”

“May I go into the house, Stam, and git somethin’ to
eat ?”

“ Yes, mammy,” said Kate, in a compassionate tone ; “come
in and set here in the corner and take the pan and eat; Gilsey
and me cooked what's in it for you. Then, when you gits
done eatin’, go and lay on the bunk yonder, side o’ Gilsey ;
I know you're a-tired.”

“T shall remain here, venerated sir,” said Socrates, “ until
your return from the island, unless you will need my services
in assisting to work the boat.”

“ There is no necessity for you to go, Socrates,” said Doctor
Skyelake.

Socrates made a profound and dignified bow, then took his
seat on one of the stools near the hearth; and Doctor Skye-
lake and his party made their way toward the landing.’

Socrates, who sat at the opposite side of the hearth from
Nancy, did nothing for some time but stare vacantly up the
chimney-flue in dead silence; and while he was doing this
Nancy was making herself very busy devouring the contents
of the pan which she held on her lap.

Socrates had a motive in remaining. It had flashed upon
his mind that a more opportune time than this very night

would never occur for him to deliver his lecture on the Pear

 

cA etbee

  

   
 

SCATTERED BY THE TEMPEST. 385

Theory. Stam and Kate had gone; Gilsey and the baby were
asleep; N. ancy and himself were left, as it were, alone.
Surely a most opportune time: night waning toward the _
hours ; the fire blazing cheerfully in the chimney ; all ev
Without ; all still within except the gentle breathing of the
children and the cricket's chirrup; Nancy at one end of the
hearth, he at the other. If the lecture should happen not to
be delivered to-night, probably Naney Weathers would con-
tinue in eternal ignorance of the Pear Theory ! Rage
So near to the chimney was Socrates’ seat, and so thin an
light was the smoke that streamed up through the flue of
headless barrels, that he could see clean out through and be-
yond the topmost barrel a little star, that was twinkling away
up yonder in the blue-black sky. He gazed long and egpens
Yes, a star,—a pear-shaped star! a perfect pear; he coul
See it distinctly ; perfectly plainly ; an even, regular pear, stem
and all! Oh, what a discovery! and all by accident, too!
Who had ever thought that a chimney-flue, formed of head-
less barrels, one on top of another, was in very truth the most
perfect of telescopes! What a gorgeous plume for the cap of
Science! The spark that had been glowing in the soot up the
chimney went out ; Socrates lowered his eyes and turned his face,
now beaming with mute joy, toward Nancy, who at that =
Instant was in the act of cramming her mouth full of fish an
potatoes. He spoke not then, for his heart was too full of its
gladness. Again he glanced up the flue. Yes, the pear-star
had crossed the disc of his telescope! Again he lowered
eyes and looked benignly over at his companion. Her mout
Was now as wide open as it could be stretched, and she was on
the eve of vomiting! A bone three or four inches long and bow-
shaped, in the foolish attempt to steal down her throat with
the potatoes and fish, had come to a dead halt before getting
two inches on its way, and was now threatening to play _
havoe with all that had gone before. But the forefinger —
thumb of Nancy succeeded in staying the career of the —
€xperimentalist ; the bow-bone was brought forth and flirte
Spitefully into the fire, =
“Let me have the pan, madam,” said Socrates ; “and allow
me to pick out the bones for you, so that you may have no-
thing to do but sit and cat .” while saying this he reached over

and gently took hold of the pan-handle.
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386

But Nancy only clamped the pan with both her hands and
held it firmly on her lap; her face, that was turned full on
that of Socrates, was the perfect picture of indignation. “TI
should guess,” she said, “that I ought to know how to pick
out bones by this time!”

“Excuse my seeming impoliteness in laying hold of the
handle,” said Socrates ; “I did it through the kindest motives,
I do assure you, madam :—but really, I must go and get more
sticks for the fire, or there will not be light enough to enable
you to distinguish between bones and fish.” Saying this So-
crates arose and went hastily out of the door. It was not long
before he returned with an armful of sticks, which he placed
on the fire, then he resumed his seat.

Nancy got through eating, and set the empty pan in the
corner; then she wiped her greasy mouth well on the ragged
sleeve of her frock; then thrusting her hand into her dress
bosom, she brought forth a pipe and some tobacco and made
quiet preparations for smoking. After filling her pipe, she
reached forward and scraped it in the hot ashes, brought the
stem to her lips, and drew away vigorously until she had got
it well lighted ; then turning square around, she propped her
back against the jamb and puffed away with great gusto.

 

KATE WEATHERS; OR,

If there was anything upon earth that Socrates abominated °

it was every shape and form of tobacco, especially fumes from
a filthy pipe. But he was a gallant gentleman, and too well
bred to except to anything that a lady might see fit to do, or
to show by any action of his body or even expression of his
face that he harbored even mental exceptions.

The greater part of the smoke that boiled out of Nancy’s
mouth seemed, strangely enough, to roll over in a bee-line
toward Socrates’ capacious nose; then to streatn up into the
suction, until his stomach and brain and bowels and lungs were
all filled to their utmost tension and capacity. He had a con-
tinual inclination to cough and sneeze, but he was firmly re-
solved not to be so ungallant as to do either ; the consequence
was, that several times he was on the very point of bursting
wide open; and he was at last only saved from doing so by
rushing to the door and poking his nose and mouth out into
the fresh night air, and standing there long enough to force
out the poisonous fumes, and to draw in enough of the cool,
sweet air to fill the places that they had occupied.

 

 

   
 

        
  

SCATTERED BY THE TEMPEST. 387

Still Nancy continued to sit there, with her back and the
back of her head leaning against the jamb, smoking,—ay,
drinking, as it were, the delicious nectar, of which she had been
for so many long hours deprived. There seemed to be a super-
natural serenity resting upon her haggard face. Surely those
fumes, or something else, had for the time driven the devils
out of her heart; for now Nancy Weathers was as tranquil as
an autumn moon. She would draw away until the hollows in
her cheeks were deep enough and long and broad enough to
contain duck-eggs ; then, after bringing a barrel of smoke into
her lungs and stomach, instead of driving it out in great ex-
travagant, spendthrift gusts, she would breathe it out in light
streams through her nostrils, or let it boil and billow up by its
own specific gravity from her wide-open mouth. And, oh!
after one cloud had arisen and rolled slowly away, how serenely
she would again put the suction on, and keep it on until
another barrelful was drawn into the elastic reservoir, to be
prisoned there a few moments, and then suffered to boil and
billow up and out as the last had done! :

Several times Socrates glanced around from his place in the
doorway to see how matters were progressing at the jamb.
At one time he would be nigh upon the point of despair ; but
then he would remember that he was a man and a philosopher,
and he would take heart again. The lecture must be deliv-
red, smoke or no smoke. So, by way of turning the deep and
placid thoughts of his audience into the channel that he desired
them to take, as well as by way of preface to the lecture, he
looked up into the sky, remarking; as he did so, “ What a
magnificent star is this nearly in the zenith! Really, I can
See its pear-shape by the naked eye !” :

One might have thought then that the stolid woman was
as deaf as a post, for she moved not a muscle, nor even winked
her eyes,

“No sane person,” continued Socrates, “ who knows any-
thing of the Pear Theory, can doubt. I undertake to say that
no sane person can doubt !”

Still Nancy moved not. Her face was upturned ; her eyes
were fixed on the ridge-pole in the top of the roof; the crown
of her head was resting against the jamb. At that very time
a great cloud of white smoke was billowing out of her mouth.

Socrates gazed in silence a few minutes: he thought that

      
     
     
      
  
      
         
     
     
       
       
    
    
       
     
    
      
     
   
     
      
  
    
 
      
  

  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
  
 
 
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

 

388 KATE WEATHERS; OR,

possibly when that cloud should arise and hang clear of the
great yawning crater, the woman might reply. But, no; again
the suction was put on, and the placid eyes seemed to have
stuck their claws in the ridge-pole. The philosopher went
and seated himself on his stool, and began with the lecture.
He began by exposing errors of Galileo, Copernicus, Newton,
and others; but this was done with extreme tenderness and
delicacy, and much credit he accorded to those “ masterly,”
“ Herculean” intellects.

’ The lecture had reached out to the length of about an hour

and a half. Socrates saw nothing, knew nothing, but his sub- -

ject. The fire had died almost out, and only a faint weird light
was shed around the room from it. Nancy snorted! the sound
was a sputtering one ; it was like wind-suction through a water-
* pipe that has been almost exhausted of its water ; it was terrific
coming as it did in that stilly hour of the dark night. In less
time than the tenth part of a second Socrates had sprung to
his feet and crossed the hearth, and stood stooping, with his
face within a foot of Nancy’s, peering, straining his eyes to
make out what manner of expression rested within the dim
outline of her face. The light was too faint; he stooped
down, and nervously gathered the chunks together, and blew
up a blaze. Then he sprang up again, and again stood staring
into the woman’s face. Her eyes were closed; her mouth so
wide open that the two rows of little black snags and fangs
were full two inches apart. The crown of her head was still
against the jamb, and her eyes were still in a position to see
the ridge-pole the first thing upon opening.

The disgusted orator stepped quietly back to his stool,
leaned Ais back and the crown of Ais head against the jamb at
his end of the hearth, aimed his eyes up toward the ridge-
pole, and closed them. And then he went fast to sleep.

  

389

 

SCATTERED BY THE TEMPEST.

CHAPTER XXXIX.

EXPEDITION IN THE FLYING COMET TO THE SOUTH POLE.

THE mind of Socrates Junior was of that active kind that
knows not rest, sleeping or waking. He had not been sitting
there with his back and the crown of his head resting against
the chimney-jamb exceeding ten minutes before he began to
have one of the most extravagant dreams that could be thought
of. But how differently individuals of the human family are
constituted! Another weary spirit might have rested there
for ten hours, instead of ten minutes, and continued during
the whole time utterly unconscious of the existence of any-
thing and everything in the universe, even of its own being ;
ay, as an instance, she that sat sleeping at the other end of the
hearth had been there more than an hour as one stone-dead,—
as one from whom the spirit had departed, leaving nothing
behind it but flesh and blood and bones. One will go when
the early shades of evening come creeping on and nestle in
the bosom of kind old Morpheus, nor peep out once until those
shades have passed away; another knows no rest until the
midnight hour has come and passed along; another never
rests, and such a one was Socrates Junior. True, s/eep came to
him, but never rest ; for even in sleep the busy mind was ever
weighing, measuring, planning, reasoning, theorizing,—ever
searching, prying into the deep cosmos for something not yet
found,—searching, prying, even in sleep.

Socrates dreamed that he was about to undertake a voyage
to the South Pole, for the purpose of satisfying himself by a
practical test of the positive truth of the Pear Theory.

The first thing he did was to advertise in the Gazette for a
proper ship to take him out. That ship (so the advertise-
ment had it) must be stanchly built, of the, burden of seven
hundred tons at least, and well rigged and trimmed. The
captain and officers must be educated navigators and’ pilots ;
the crew must consist of able and experienced seamen,—men
enured to hardship, and all, from captain to cook, must have
taste for scientific investigation. The ship must be clean, well

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390 KATE WEATHERS; OR,

ventilated, and provisioned with an abundant supply of fresh,
wholesome food. The price offered for a charter for the round
trip out and back was twenty-five thousand dollars. The pro-
posal was quite a lengthy document, and contained much rea-
sonable and well-expressed minutia, but the substance of the
leading features of it were as above set forth.

Before this advertisement had made its fourth appearance
in the Weekly Gazette, Socrates had received answers from
three hundred and thirty-four captains,—all of whom repre-
sented their ships to be stanch good sailors, themselves as
educated navigators, and their crews as able seamen and men
of intelligence and extensive experience.

The whole thing was so novel that more than one-half of
the three hundred and thirty-four agreed to undertake the
. Voyage for less than the price offered, and some of them for
even one-half that price.

Letters poured in at such a rate that Socrates found it neces-
sary to discontinue the advertisement after its third appear-
ance, and for two level weeks he had not time to do anything
but write polite answers to the captains, declining their offers
of service, and thanking them in the name of science for the
lively interest manifested by them in se noble a cause,

Among the letters received was the following :

“Srr,—My ship, the Flying Comet, is 6994, tons burden,
custom-house measurement. She is American build,—stanch,
and what you might call new. There are five officers, includ-
ing myself, and twenty-two of the crew,—every man on board
warranted to know exactly where his place is and what his
business is, and not one but that can start at the end of the
Jib-boom and climb backward up the stay to the foretopmast
truck; thence from masthead to masthead ; thence headfore-
most down to the end of the main-boom ; thence still on down
the sternpost to the keel (fourteen feet under water when bal-
lasted) ; thence by the keel and up the bows to the end of the
jib-boom again. This is my test of a first-class seaman ; and
I mention the fact here that you-may understand that we
know something about climbing in the rigging, and that we
have great endurance, and are able to continue a long time
under water without drowning. But I have one thing to say
that probably no other captain who has offered his ship to you

 

    
 

     
 

SCATTERED BY THE TEMPEST. 391

has been able to say, and I think that one thing may induce
you to charter my ship in preference to any other that has
been offered, for I think it would be of great advantage to you
in such an expedition as you propose to make: that one thing
Is that every individual of the officers and crew of the Flying
Comet was born and reared in extremely cold climates, and is
therefore capable of enduring intense cold, I am a Norwe-
lan,—born at North Cape; two of my mates are Legler
the third is an Icelander, and the fourth a Greenlander. O

the crew six were born and raised in Terra del Fuego, and ten
re Spitzbergeners ; and, though none of the remaining “=
know where they were born, yet I am positively certain tha
they came from very cold countries, from the fact that five of
them are not thoroughly thawed yet, although they have been
in the North Temperate zone for years, and the sixth, we
shipped with me six months ago, is frozen from head to hee:

as hard as a brick yet. . ee

“My ship is at your service at the price named, provi 2
the time for the round trip shall not exceed three years. :
the expiration of three years from the day we leave port,
must be paid at the rate of ten thousand dollars a year.

“ My steward, Skaats, Rack, a Spitzbergener, writes this paws
at my request (for, though I speak it fluently, I cannot wri
a word of English), and I have authorized him to sign my
name to it.

“ BLouGH gh sag ag ae
“ Capt. Shi ing Comet,
= Per Yao Rack, Std.

“P. 8.—We all speak English.
fs Fg 3 RSS Pages address Blough Thomm, and not

Blue Tom, as many will have it.”

There was something about Captain Blough Thomm's pea
that pleased Socrates amazingly. He read it over three times,
and then concluded to close the bargain without delay. pr
the letter was not written by the captain’s own hand, but ¢ il
no doubt he dictated it word by word, and therefore, ree ;
it was Captain Blough Thomm speaking for himself. < pd
Was an openness, a frankness about it that was in none 0} 2
other three hundred and thirty-three ; and one of the pet at
pressions of Socrates was: “A candid man’s the noblest wor'

     

   
     
 
   
   
    
   
  
  
 

 

 

392

of God.” Capt. Thomm did not attempt to conceal the fact
that his ship lacked something of seven hundred tons burden ;
he did not say that his ship could sail faster than any other
ship in the world; he did not propose to take one cent less
than twenty-five thousand dollars for the service ; nay, he let
it be distinctly understood that he should charge more than
that sum if the voyage should be spun out longer than three
years; he did not say that the dullest fool of his crew had
more sense than Plato of old; the substance of what he did
say was simply: “ Here am I, here is the Flying Comet, and
here are the terms: accept us if you like.” “But particularly
Socrates was struck by what the captain said about his officers
and crew,—that they had all been born and reared in extremely
cold climates. Here was a great advantage, indeed ; for no
, doubt it would be found to be very cold down about the end
of the pear stem ; but, with all the rest, he was much pleased
with the name of the ship. The bargain with Captain Blough
Thomm was closed without delay.

The Flying Comet sailed out on her voyage from a North
American port early in the month of August, and on the first
day of the following February she had reached a point one
thousand miles south of Cape Horn, or not far from the
seventieth degree of south latitude, and was still ploughing rap-
idly on to the southward, having so far met nothing to impede
her headway, and with the probability very strong (judging
from appearances) that she would meet no hindrances ; and
that therefore she would haye nothing to do but to sail right
on through the pole and up on the other side,—for it must be
remembered that at that time the Antarctic Continent had not
even been dreamed of.

On that first day of February the skies were clear and the
weather pleasant, it being then in the midst of summer in that
southern latitude. Socrates, who had become very intimate
with the captain, and had taken great pains to let him into
the light of the Pear Theory, was sitting in his’ favorite seat
on deck near the tiller, conversing with the captain,—that is
to say, Socrates had much to say upon scientific and philosophi-
cal subjects, and Captain Blough every now and then said
“yes” or “no,” or granted assent or dissent in some other
way (which was the part that the captain invariably took in
conversations upon such subjects), when the first mate, the

KATE WEATHERS; OR,

   
  

 

      
  

SCATTERED BY THE TEMPEST. 393

Most uncompromising skeptic that Socrates had to deal with
on shipboard, came aft and seated himself near them.

The first mate, who no doubt had come up for the £0 9%
of listening to the conversation that was going on ene :
pretended not to be paying the least attention to it), ha et
4 word to say to any one, but only looked out first on one side
of the ship, then on the other, then into the rigging, then be
in the sky. But Socrates, who was a man of ee 3
penetration, guessed the whole secret in a jiffy, ee hed
work thinking how he might twist the conversation wit “ h
captain into such a shape as to bring out argument with whic’
to hammer and pound the first mate, after a sideway ss per
dental fashion, while he might appear not to bering eter
him, even in the gentlest manner. After a little mental ar-
rangement he said,— P

“So you are convineed, at last, Captain Blough, ya :
inhabit a pear whose little end is the south pole?—No pap
doubt about the pear,—ha, ha, ha! —eh, cap Bn at hould

“None in the world,” said the captain. ‘ r f the Pe.
we was getting down well towards the little end of the
at that.” ; “Itisa

“ Let's see about that,” said Socrates, reflecting. from bot-
very large pear,—some eight thousand miles through or pres
tom to top, you know. I should say that the stem gee
pear would be a thousand miles long; then we are pro hi i
five hundred miles from the big end of the stem as Do
would place us fifteen hundred miles from the re yor oes
hot understand me to say, captain, that the earth has = roe
like a pear,—literally a sfem,—for the slope from top acer
is very gradual and regular, but I use the word 2 little end I
it is apt. About fifteen hundred miles from the li
should say, captain.” .

«Fifteen hundred aniles ?” said Captain reat TT
with an expression of great surprise upon his saw “0 ra 1s
“The stem a thousand miles long? Is that the way she tape
out ?” i

“ Exactly,” said Socrates. “I imagine, captain, oe ts
little end does not exceed two feet in diameter, and tha

perfectly round at the point.” :
pe | mf !” said Captain Blough Thomm, forgetting for the

h
time the philosopher’s presence ; “ two foot, and round at the
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KATE WEATHERS; OR,

pint? Man! if you are right in your calculations, we'd better
heave her to now, and go back, for I’ll be d d if she don’t
git hogged rounding such a p’int as that !”

“Ice ahead !” called out the man from the main-crosstrees.
“Keep her off about two p’ints or we'll be into it !”

“Tee, eh?” said the captain, still looking into Socrates’
face ; “ apt as anyway the whole stem is a solid icicle; and if
that be so, and we should happen to get raised up on it,
we're going to slide off, sure as gun; mind what I tell you!”

This was one of the longest sentences that the captain had
been heard to utter since the ship started out from port. It
was plain to see that he was more than ordinarily excited,—not
that he was afraid for himself, for there was not the least spark
of cowardice about him ; but he loved his ship better, if any-
thing, than he did his wife, and he was appalled at the thought
that he might lose her.

It was a long time before Socrates could utter a single word
that could be understood, for laughing at the captain’s sim-
plicity. “Slide off, eh?” he said, as soon as he was able to
articulate. “Oh, no, Captain Blough, depend upon it, we
shall not slide off,—icicle or no icicle, we shall be apt to keep
on. There isa force acting upon us, and that will continue to
act; a force that the great Sir Isaac Newton would call attrac-
tion of gravitation, but which I prefer to call magnetism ;
that is amply sufficient to keep us on, even if the stem should
dwindle to the size of a knitting-needle. To speak figuratively,
captain, our ship is suspended from a lofty object by a strong
chain and staples, therefore, you see that there can be no sliding
off; nor is it possible that there should be any falling, unless
the staples should draw out or the chain break; both which
things are impossibilities.”

After hearing this, the captain quieted down as calm as a
dish. Either the words convinced him that he had no cause
to fear, or they grounded him more firmly in the belief that
things were not exactly right, for he said not another word on
the subject; all he did was to give up the tiller to the first
mate, and then order some of the men aloft to unfurl the sky-
scraper, which is the very topmost sail on the mizzen-mast.

Socrates took it that his argument had fully convinced the
captain, and he was glad in his heart that the first mate was
present to hear and see what was said anddone. He doubted

 

 

top Seen E

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SCATTERED BY THE TEMPEST. 395

_ ms that the captain had ordered the sky-scraper to be
as sr eed to the fair breeze because now he apprehended no
na ee %% ead, and because he desired to make the voyage in
ae cn a time as possible. _ As to the warning of “ ice ahead,”
erik = & matter of so little consequence that it was not
A Praga if the man in the crosstrees really saw ice,
mon wi it was a mere sheet, no thicker than a pane of com-
So ndow-glass ; and what of that! .
deweie had never been in a happier state of mind. He
paige toward the first mate, with a view to ascertain, if possible,
pes expression of his face, how he was affected. He hoped
; rarope Is face beaming with thankful smiles at the valuable in-
si - that he had received ; and already he had marked out a
with conversation with him. But, instead of a face lighted
re eaming smiles, he was confronted with one of the grum-
So ix grimmest Scowls that it had ever been his lot to behold.
a ustead of Venturing upon argument with the first mate, he
ye ~ and went amidships, and seated himself on the gunwale
€ side of the captain, who was sitting there with his face
upturned, looking to see how the men up in the rigging were
Setting on with the sky-scraper.
tai Will you give me your attention for a few minutes, cap-
an? Socrates asked, blandly.

Certainly,” said the captain, in a very polite manner, as a
Pleasant smile played all over his sun-brown face ; “not for a
_~ minutes only, but for six full hours ; for you see I have

"Y quantity of leisure time now.”

wa I think T can give you a better idea of the force that I

S Speaking of than was conveyed to you by the chain-and-
Staple figure.”

‘
ra Why: that was a plain enough figger for me,” said the
fit, 'n. “Seems to me it’s as plain as the nose on a man’s

«Thee 82m"
ply said Socrates, “that I hold in my right hand is a
I — bullet whose weight is exactly one ounce. This that
piss shed left hand is nothing more than a piece of cord,
Sete a -and-twisted cotton twine, four feet long. I have
besitne : Strength of this cord, and find that it is capable of
it will e weight of four pounds avoirdupois,—that is to say,
Tholdi ear the weight of sixty-four pewter bullets like this that

‘n my right hand without snapping. Observe, that there

    
  
 

KATE WEATHERS; OR,

is a little hole drilled through the centre of the bullet. And
see, now; I thread one end of the cord through the hole: see,
again; I tie a knot in the end of the cord, which is to prevent
the bullet from slipping off. Observe; I wrap the other end
of the cord three times around my right hand fore-finger ; and
now the bullet is revolving around and around my finger. The
finger is a force acting upon the bullet and causing it to revolve
in the air around it; the cord is another force, holding the
bullet in its orbit. If it were not for the first force (the fore-
finger) the bullet would have no motion at all: if it were not
for the second force (the cord) the bullet would fly off in a
straight line, instead of revolving around the finger. If the
bullet had not substance, weight (in other words, if it were not
ponderable matter), it would not revolve at all. Observe, that
the bullet revolves around and around my finger, at exactly
‘the same distance from it all the time.”

“T see,” said the captain, with an expression of face that told
that he was wondering why it was that Socrates had used so
many words, and taken such a roundabout way to explain so
simple a matter.

“See again,” said Socrates, nervously ; “the bullet is now
ascending ; now it has reached its greatest height; and now it
is descending: and so, over and over it goes, so long as the
two forces continue to act upon it. The circle that the bullet
describes we will call its orbit. See how the body wheels in
its orbit !”

“T see,” said the captain again. ‘ Well?”

“ Let us call the lowest point in the bullet’s orbit the south
pole, and the highest point the north pole.”

“ Well; that’s good enough,” said Captain Blough Thomm.

“Now then,” said Socrates, with a triumphant expression
upon his face, “ we will apply the whole matter of the bullet
and its orbit, and the two forces, to our case, The orbit is the
surface of the earth ; the bullet is our ship; magnetism is the
force in. one case as in the other. Now observe again, the
bullet (our ship) is descending lower and lower in its orbit (the
surface of the earth), and will continue so to do until it reaches
its lowest point (the south pole); it arises now until it reaches
its highest point (the north pole); and so on it goes, ascend-
ing and descending. What do you think of your ‘sliding off’
—more properly flying off—now, Captain Blough? Remember

  

  

    
   
    
     
   
    
   
  
     
   

    

    
   

 

SCATTERED BY THE TEMPEST. 397

the cord (magnetism) keeps it going around, as well as that it
holds it in its orbit. Is it not all clear enough now ?”

“Clear as mud!” said Captain Blough Thomm, in a half
exclamatory manner, yet looking wistfully astern as he spoke.
‘Yes; I see it all now!”

Day after day the ship continued on in her southward
course,—now through fields of ice, and now through great
Open seas, until, according to the captain's calculation, she
had reached latitude 83° 40! south.

Here things looked extremely gloomy ; for all before them
Seemed to be a solid mass of ice, except that here and there
were little serpentine streams; but into one of these little
Streams the ship entered and continued ‘on, for it was fully
determined to sail on as long as the ship would sail ; and pos-
sibly these little streams continued clean on and around up
the other side. Captain Blough Thomm thought otherwise,
but he was determined not to throw cold water on the blaze
of hope by any word of his, so he steered on, in the interest
of science, and because he desired to perform faithful service
for his employer, :

As soon as Socrates was informed of the latitude, he went
and gazed in deep silence for an hour or more over the bow.
The little stream in which the ship was sailing was narrowing
all the time. The weather was growing intensely cold, and
clouds were heaving up from horizon all around. _ Socrates
Secret heart quaked: yet it would not do to let his fears be
known, by word or action, or even by the expression of his
face; he must smile and laugh to encourage the others, even
if his heart should freeze through and through while he was
doing it. So, breaking forth in the loudest laugh that had
ever been heard from him, he walked briskly back to the tiller
and seated himself in his usual place.

“Well, how do things look over the bows?” asked the

captain, with a laugh at least twice as loud as that of
Socrates,

_At hearing this peal of boisterous merriment, Socrates
himself ceased laughing as instantly as if he had been shot
with a bullet through his heart, and stood gazing in astonish-
ment at the man, and wondering whether he had not become
sane. At last, héwever, he succeeded in mustering up

sickly cadaverous smile, as he answered,—
34

  
  
  
    
 
 

 

 
   
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
   
 
  
   
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
  
  
 
  
 
 
  
   
 
  
  
 
 
 
   
  

     

398

 

KATE WEATHERS; OR,

“ They look a little darkly, to be sure; but we must expect
the darks as well as the lights, you know, Captain Blough ;
ten to one if we don’t get through all right,”

“ Get through all right!” said the first mate, savagely, but
with a show of smiling; “certainly we shall! and that ain’t
all, by any means. Do you see that big icicle yonder
ahead ?”

“ Well, yes, I see it,” said Socrates, his puny smiles changing
instantaneously to frowns when he spoke

“We are the richest men that live on the top of the
ground !” said the first mate.

“ How is that?” asked Socrates.

“ Do you see that onder big icicle?” the first mate asked
# y ¥ 5
again.

“Of course I see it!” Socrates answered, snappishly.

“ It’s the pear stem, mate,” said Captain Blough Thomm;
“call things by their right names.”

“ Well,” said the first mate, still addressing Socrates, “we
are going to make millions of dollars out of that icicle; there
are two ways to do it, either of which we can take, and here
they are: That icicle is ours by right, for we are the dis-
coverers and first occupiers. The government will pay us
millions for the territory !”

The severity of Socrates’ brow somewhat relaxed. The
very faintest imaginable smile appeared on his face,—revenge
prompted the smile,—the first mate had all along been dis-
posed to make light of the Pear Theory, now it was absolutely
in his power to expose the first mate's ignorance. “ Terri-
tory,” he said; “ Latin, territorium, from the root terra, mean-
ing dand. You cannot make territory out of an icicle, mate ;
ice is not carth, but mere frozen water |”

“ Ha, ha, ha!” laughed the first mate ; “ it’s all exactly the
Same, after all; for who besides us knows or ever will know
but what that yonder icicle is good rich land? The number
of square miles is all we need to know, and you can calculate
that well enough. But, then, maybe you will like the other
way of making millions of dollars out of it better.”

“‘ And what is that way ?” asked Socrates, with indignation
in his expression and contempt in his tone.

“It is this,” the first mate answered. “ Do you know that
the Indian Ocean is a large body of water, filled with beau-

 

 

  

SCATTERED BY THE TEMPEST. 399

tiful and productive islands, and surrounded by eke wa tet
proverbially rich empires,—rich not only in fertile lands,
in gold, and silver, and precious stones ?

“T know it all,” said Socrates. vel ™m
“Do you know that those countries are excessively di
during the greater part of the year, and that snow and ice

are just about unknown there ?”

“ I know it all,” said Socrates. Goats: and

“Do you know that ice, being lighter than water, flow ie k
that it is one of the easiest substances in the world to crac
and split ?”

“Certainly I do,” said Socrates.

“Do pnts that a good-sized iceberg would eran
not entirely melt, even under a tropical sun, ie BORE it is

“T do not know it,” said Socrates, “ but think that 1
Probably go.” i

3 gio know that ice is refreshing in summer, especially
to the sick ?” fiopetiontly,

“Certainly I do,” said Socrates, impatiently.

“ Then Till tell you what the other way is,” said _ ~
mate; “and if I do not greatly mistake, we can we its
Very voyage the most profitable that was ever ev aa

hen we reach the head of this little creek uP epee n)
Pow sailing (which from present appearance will be very soon),
let us take all the saws and axes and mallets and i hall
tek see ann get our hands on, and as soon as the win s al
chop around to the s’uth’ard and blow a gale, let va hi
ashore and plough a furrow clean around the icicle, t in ;
us pitch in with saws and axes and inallets ond nd oom
and crack it smooth off, then let us hitch on to it an =
it into the Indian Ocean! See there! I om >
Cnough said! You know whether we should get fia ye
millions and millions for cooling the air as we shoul hi 4 o
you know whether we should do a thriving basiness conan
off ice and selling it at any price that we might choose
ask,”

Socrates was indignant in the extreme. For me _—_
minutes he stood holding his hands behind his back * h first
into the first mate’s face ; but during that iaale § — I into
Mate stood with his right hand on the tiller, staring ance
his face with the most vacant, stolid expression of counten:

    
   
 
  
 
 
  
  
 
 
  
  
 
 
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
  
  

 

 

  

400 KATE WEATHERS 3; OR,

that could be thought of. At the end of that three minutes,

Socrates turned upon his heel and went into the cabin, never
opening his mouth to speak a word to any one.

 

CHAPTER XU.

SKATING ON THE AIR.

For hours Socrates sat sulking in the cabin. The time for

rest and sleep came on, but he could neither rest nor sleep ;
and for two reasons: first, he was very angry with the first
mate, and, secondly, he was getting to be terri
the situation of things. Manly pride forbade his letting his
fears be known, so he drew dark curtains over the windows
of his heart. Yet most glad would he have been for any ex-
cuse to turn the ship back homeward. He would have been
pleased at the information that the ship had reached the very
head of the little creek, but it seemed that that miserable
gully was endless. A mutiny among the crew would have
delighted him, but it seemed that the men were more humble
and obedient the farther south they got. There was but one
hope left: possibly, he might get the captain into an alterca-

course at any time, or even to order her homeward, only, that
in such case, he would be bound to the

Some sort of a fuss on some pretext or other ;
the cabin-door, and the first thing
the tiller in hand.

“Looks kind 0’ icy!” the captain remarked, as Socrates
drew near,

“Tt does look iey, Captain Blough Thomm,” Socrates re-
plied, with a sort of hyena laugh and grin; “but then, they

say ‘to be cool is to be calm,’ and if that be 80, we shall. be
apt to have it calm enough; it would be somewhat un-

80 he pushed open
he saw was the captain with

 

   

01
SCATTERED BY THE TEMPEST. A

; for a year
Pleasant though, I should say, to have to lie here y
or two, becalmed.” we
« Cals said the captain. “If calm means retest
shall not only be apt to have it calm, but we yds to put a
Look out yonder! It’s pins take a smar
riffle on ice two miles thick, e . hick !
“Tt would indeed,” said agin $ hi eg had
But then it is cold; indeed it is, isn't 1t, captain’ TS.
“ Hellish cold !” said Captain Blough, yea. Pore per)
“Tt is, sure enough !” said Socrates. ah away down
do you know that I would not have missed yg 2”
here for millions and millions and millions o in, in his always
‘No; I didn’t know it!” said the oy T kaow that J
blunt way of talking when on duty. 1 js than half that
would have been willing to miss it for less
much.” AES eat
“ What! At the expense of civilization, and to the gr
retardation of science?” if you
“ Exactly!” persisted the blunt old a ieee ofr he a
should ever have the chance to try me new hether I take it
thousand dollars to stay at home, and see W
or not.” : hat
“ Why, captain,” said Socrates, bh Ci ered es is
we have already done for science! My ‘aa * single iceberg
conclusively established ! oe do you
in the whole range of vision wal i thing.
Captain Blough glanced out at the icicle, nite + it
“Why is it that none are seen ?” continue ss are here as at
is because no high mountains and pruning it?”
the north, where icebergs abound. Do you h. But Captain
“Yes; I see it now,” said Captain gt «T see it now,”
Blough Thomm meant very little when he said, cialis.” Sold
for that had got to be one of his standing ae noo it than he
the fact is, in this instance he did not any mor
man in the moon did. tful; and
The chances for an altercation began to vibes” his gs
now Socrates began to hate the captain On “T for the same
nature as much as he had before admired him ore attempt,
thing. He determined though to make one m
and he said, — ince
“I think we shall not have much trouble to conv
34*

     
 
  

   
  
  
 
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
   
 
 
 
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
  

402 KATE WEATHERS; OR,
croakers of the positive truth of the Pear Theory when we
shall return home,—ha, ha, ha !—eh, Captain Blough ?”

“Tt’s-as easy as kiss my hand!” said the captain.

“These little streams, meandering up from the south
through the ice, much resemble the capillary pipes in a pear-
stem, through which the fruit receives sustenance, captain.”

“They are as much alike as two p’s,” said the captain.

“ Ah, no. I must take that back,” said Socrates. “The
capillary tubes do carry sustenance through the stem to the
fruit, but these meandering streams in no manner assist in
nourishing owr pear. Really, there is no resemblance at all.”

“ Sure enough, there ain’t!” said the captain.

Socrates grew angry in earnest. It came into his mind to
tell the captain that he had deceived him about his ship ; that
she was an old worm-eaten hulk, or that he was no navigator.

‘But Captain Blough Thomm was a rugged, weather-beaten
old salt; and besides, he had twenty-six men under him,—all
of whom were at his beck and call to do whatever he might
order done ; and besides that, no doubt, the first mate would
be glad of an excuse to have-him thrown overboard. Again,
the ship was thousands of miles away from the nearest court-
house, and the captain might take it into his head to have him
put out on the icicle to make the rest of the voyage as best
he could on foot. He bit his lips until the blood started, and
then went into the cabin again, and locked the door.

For thirty-six hours Socrates remained in the cabin ; not
Speaking to a person in the time, nor even opening or unlock-
ing the door. He did nothing in the time but walk back and
forth upon the floor; then tumble into a berth, and imagine
that he was crazy; then spring out and pace the floor as be-
fore. At times passion would get such a high hand, that he
would curse captain, ship, officers, and crew; then he would
think the matter over more calmly, and ask himself what was
best to be done. And, at last,—at the end of the thirty-six hours,
—he came to the conclusion to go out on deck again, and act
as if nothing had happened of a disagreeable character at all:
possibly he might get the captain to believe that he had taken
the wrong creek, and so get him in a notion to turn back,
especially if he should admit that taking the wrong ‘channel
was no fault of Ais (the captain’s), and that if they did not
get an inch farther south, he would be entitled to his full

 

 

403

SCATTERED BY THE TEMPEST.

Z nd
twenty-five thousand dollars. The idea was a wot vi the
he thought it would succeed. So, when he viet e “i com-
cabin-door, a benevolent smile covered his whole ie hin, nose
pletely as a doughface would have done,—forehead, chin, ’
and all. : d

He stepped his right foot out on deck, on ae Piggy
long enough to gaze clean around the circle 0 ‘a lain of
looked as if the whole world was one solid ape saat stood
ice grooved into the walls of the sky. The che a short-
there as usual, holding the tiller. He was cae pied tented as
Stem pipe, and looked as if he were as happy an le at the
mortal man could be. The wind was blowing @ ee before it
time, but the ship was flying at _ a rapid raj
that it was almost a dead calm on deck. A ing

St Eines eas eS ee yet ? asked the captain, addressing
Socrates, ~ h?

“Seen who, Captain Blough ?” ae gee

& Why, the re8 mate,” said the captain, vig a ey
chuckle. “ He took a notion soon after you lef ae and
would have a frolic on the ice; so he put on his a uched it
got off the ship on it. No sooner had his ae ne than
than he darted off like a streak of lightning ; ioht v abe six
twenty minutes he had got clean out of sig nd there was
hours I happened to look out on the other poche he was
the first mate: he had been clean around, an oo the sec-
about to cross our bows, about a mile ahead of us, 0 a ae
ond round. He sailed across the creek: when ae kel be-

ng as if there had been no creek there: I really

ieve that he saw it at all.” is i -

“Ts it possible !” exclaimed Socrates. “ But oy pied =
tain, that he can keep ahead of the ship, and at the s
§° around and around the icicle?” :
“You see the wind’s bearing down,
“He makes it around like the thread of an auger.
ond round he made in five hours +e”?
“ Second round! Has he been around twice ¢ “in three
“And the third round,” continued the ne mae |
hours and forty-two minutes. He crossed ite! ike time.
of us the second time, and about three miles the aa he
Iam looking out for him every minute now again :—

goes! I thought we'd gain on him this round.”

’ said the captain.
The sec-

 
      
   

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
  
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
  
 
  
   

 

 
 
   
 
 
  
 
 
  
  

 

KATE WEATHERS; OR,

Socrates looked out, and there went the first mate, sure
enough, crossing the ship's bows about two miles ahead. He
had taken off his red flannel shirt and lashed it on his right
arm as a flag to its staff; and as he passed he waved it three
times over his head, and in a short time passed out of sight again.

“Tt would seem to me, captain, that the first mate is in a
sorry condition,” said Socrates ; “but then there is one conso-
lation in the matter: the first mate could about as well be
spared from the ship as any one on it. I have no doubt he
is convinced of the truth of the Pear Theory, too.” Socrates
said this with bitterness; but the captain seemed to take it as
a capital joke, for he laughed heartily.

“There is one thing that I dislike about this region, Cap-
tain Blough,” said Socrates; “and that is having so much

_ “ght: I would rather have darkness when the time for sleep

comes on: this having it day a whole month at a time don't
suit me at all, and I think I should never get used to it. By
the way, Captain Blough, this is the 20th day of December,
and therefore high noon of the South Pole day. Have you
ever before experienced anything like it?” :

“Me?” said the captain: “oh, yes; we have the days a
month long at North Cape, where I was born and reared,”

“Possible !” said Socrates.

“Oh, yes; and my folks at home have the benefit of the
longest day even at North Cape, for the house that I was born
in is so near the tip end of the cape that every high tide
comes staving in at the front door.”

“Possible! Indeed!” said Socrates.

“But talking about long days, I’ve heard my father (who
was a whaler) say that the sun didn’t go down out of his sight
for three whole years once.”

“Three whole years! Impossible!” said Socrates. “The
very longest days at the earth’s extremities,—at the. very
poles,—can be but six months long.”

“ But the long day that my father experienced happened
in this way,” said Captain Blough Thomm: “he started no’th
from North Cape in March; passed the North Pole in J une;
arrived at the Equator on the other side in September ; and
reached the South Pole by January. Then he went on,
streaking up, and got off ag’in home in March (just a year
out, you see). ‘Then, instead of stopping, he went right on in

  

SCATTERED BY THE TEMPEST. 405

the line he took before; and he didn’t stop to geet on

until he had made the round three times, and got da,

— sound to North Cape in exactly three years from the day
e started off.”

“Wonderful ! wonderful!” said Socrates, as he en wi
fingers of both his hands through his hair until pando
of it stood straight up, and stared down in deep, wild meditat
at his great toes: “really the most rapid sailing that der he

“ Exactly,” said Captain Blough; “and no ie whole
sailed; for he had a white-eyed tornado after him the
time |” i

“Why did he not shoot into port when he got opposite
home, at the end of the first round ?” Idn’t do it;

“ Why, eh? well, for two reasons: first, he oe ‘ Pass d
Second, his ship was bran new then, and on her first tr ce rs
he'd as lief put her out to see what she could do as ws si

“A truly wonderful feat!” said Socrates ; “ positively
derful |” loud of

Evens said Captain Blough; as he puffed ac
Smoke from his lips; ‘very !’’ i

All this time Besiiiad hhad been standing there with inst
foot in the cabin and the other on deck, and a0
the companionway, as at first. But now he stepped t Sra
foot out, and as he did so he glanced do “ po the
Instantly he paused again, and, leaning his i” hh he ship
{uarter-deck, continued to look up. Every sal od ry one
had, from the largest to the smallest, was set, nh : was
Was puffed out full of wind; and every mast and spa

ending forward before the rushing gale.

Up to this very instant Socrates had :
calm was calico: for not a breath of air had touched him,

: l-
and now he could scarcely believe that his own eyes were te
ing the truth. Th e ship ate ona perfectly even keel, bo
Was literally flying. For a time his delight knew mS pee
for the sight was the most glorious that his eyes 7 izon :
witnessed. The sun was hanging over are heir art sar
the fields of ice were glittering and sparkling ne pp: ;
silver and gold upon which showers of diamonds ha the
the skies were cloudless, and of a delicate pale ry a :
Flying Comet !—oh, how gloriously the pam yi a a
Peared, and how she was speeding on! He coun

 

imagined that a dead

    
  
   

 

 

 

  

406

 

KATE WEATHERS; OR,

on his fingers, and found that, including sky-seraper, cloud-
splitter, moon-duster, spanker, royal, jib-a-jib, and jib-topsail,
there were twenty-nine in all! But besides these, forty-three
flags of different nationalities were streaming forward from
the mast-heads and yard-arms.

“ Beautiful! glorious!” exclaimed Socrates in an ecstasy.
“ Beautiful, Captain Blough! Glorious indeed, I declare !”

“ Very!” said the captain, as he again puffed a cloud of
smoke from his mouth, and smiled such a smile as only the
heart can send out on the face.

“ Who,” said Socrates, “ would exchange such a life as this
for that of your tame land-lubber ? Who, oh who ?”

“ Nobody,” said the captain, who was in such a glee that,
before he could blow out the cloud of smoke from his mouth,
‘he set-to to chuckling; the consequence of which was that
only a part of it came out at his mouth, the rest streamed
from his ears and nostrils like steam from the spouts of four
boiling kettles.

“ And then, captain,” said Socrates, “I suppose a child
could steer her now, for you seem to be having your own easy
time of it there at the tiller ?”

“ And so I am,” said the captain.

_ “What time are we making, Captain Blough ?’”’ asked
Socrates.

“ Highty knot, about.”

“ Kighty miles an hour? Is there not danger of flying to
pieces ?” :

“None in the world,” the captain answered, putting his
pipe down on the rudder-head as he spoke, and blowing his
nose with his fingers until it sounded like a very bugle.

“Tt strikes me,” said Socrates, who could not longer conceal
his alarm, “ that it would be well for you to order the men to
take in some of this sail, wouldn't it, captain ?”

“Order the men,—eh ?” said Captain Blough, as he puffed
out a great round cloud of white smoke. “They are all
gone !”

“Gone ?—gone where ?” asked Socrates, wondering.

“Gone under !” said the captain; “ they are under the ice,
and by this time some twenty miles down, I should say.”’

“ Kixplain! explain!” screamed Socrates.

“ Easy now,” said Captain Blough Thomm, with great cool-

.

 

SCATTERED BY THE TEMPEST. 407

Ness; “it is this way: all hands was down in the see
Sound asleep, when we run into the sharp ice at the hea ol
the little gully ; the ice was so sharp, and the ship was moving
at such a lick, that when she struck there wasn’t any more Jar
than when you stomp your foot on the deck. Of course

they've gone under, for the fact,is

“Is what !” gasped Socrates. ERE *
The chytein’s wiki had gone so nearly out that it required

Considerable drawing and sucking, and popping of lips, and
Sticking of the forefinger into the bowl to get it under aa
again,—all which had to be gone through with before Be wa
make any answer at all to Socrates; at last he said, 4
the fact is that our bottom is sliced off as clean and smoo
as if it had been planed off with a jack-plane.

“ Captain !” said Socrates, in a frenzy, “are we lost ?”

‘ Lost ?—no |” aoe the "captain. vy know well enough
where we are; and if I could leave this tiller fifteen poate
T could tell you our latitude and longitude to a dot. i. om
— descending in our orbit like the bullet did in ¢s,—tha
all. Lost ?—no, we are not lost !” on

*Tsiit possible, captain,” asked Socrates, “ that the oe
bottom has been sliced off by the ice, and that we ar
sliding 9? k ms

“ Possible?” said the captain; “go look down the hatch-
Way.”

Soerates rushed to the hatchway and looked nee =
Was no more bottom to the ship than there is to a hole in "
air! It had been shaved smooth off ten feet below my «
and the ship was now streaming down the icicle toward the
South Pole like a flying comet indeed. i =:

“Thunder and lightning!” screamed Socrates, 11 @ re
fpPhilosopher-like manner, as he went pounding back towa

le ship’s stern. 13%

The Did you find it like I said?” asked Captain Blough
omm, blandly. aa
Ate Saptail, captain, captain, captain, captain ! exclaimed

Socrates, “we are undone! undone! undone! :
“How so? how so?” asked the captain, in great apparent

SurPrise. “I should say we was nearer done than pleat i

all’s about it is we are getting down to’ards the winaee F -

in the orbit and there’s a little hurry about it; that’s all’

 

    
    
 

 

 

 

408 KATE WEATHERS; OR,

nothing happens, and the wind keeps fair like it is now,
we shall double the pole and get up as high as ten degrees, or
about eighty south, by noon to-morrow. We're not undone,
man.”

“ Captain! captain !” said Socrates in an agony, “how can
you have the heart to make a jest of our terrible misfortune?”

“ Jest!” said Captain Blough. “I’ll swear I was never
more in earnest in all my born days! why, man, I’ve been
running the Flying Comet for up’ards of ten years now, and
this is the quickest time by far odds that she has ever made
since she has beena ship! I tell you, I didn’t believe it was in
her !—eighty knot! by jiminy! we are beating the old man’s
time, when he had the tornado after him, clear out o’ sight.
Jest 2—You may believe I mean every bit of it!—Kighty odd
knot! But even that’s crawling to what we are going to do
presently, for look out yonder ahead how steep it’s getting to
slope.”

Captain Blough was now in such a state of wild glee, that
he cared but little whether Socrates might choose to look out
and observe the slope or not; for, the very instant after the ques-
tion passed his lips, he snatched his great silver watch out of its
fob, and held it before him in his open left hand, as he“steered
with his right.

“ Captain !” groaned Soerates, “ what are we doing ?”

“Nothing! just about nothing now, to what we shall be
doing in less than a minute! I’m going to time her when she
starts down the slope ; and I shall be badly fooled if we don’t
make the next tiousand miles inside of two hours. But
here we go over |”

No sooner had these words been uttered than the ship glided
over the brink of the steep slope, and went down so rapidly on
the hard bright ice, that it was with some difficulty that the
captain and Socrates could catch their breath. f

“ Here we go hell to split!” said Captain Blough Thomm,
in an ecstasy ; smoking, laughing, talking, steering, and hold-
ing his watch in his open left hand, all at the same time.
“ And, hello! here comes the first mate, not sixty yards behind
us. By jiminy, we've beat him! Yonder’s the end of the
stem, too; it’s as sharp as a bodkin, but ain’t we travelling off
at a round rate ?”

So great was the excitement of both Socrates and the cap-

 

SCATTERED BY THE TEMPEST. 409

tain, that neither of them had once observed that the sun was
almost totally eclipsed,—so near it, indeed, that, at the time
the captain got through with his last seutence, all that re-
mained visible of that grand luminary was the merest golden
thread of its upper limb: and just at that instant, too, the ship
shot clear of the ice, right out over the pole. :

Socrates was frantic. He sprang upon the rudder-head (which
was within one foot of the extreme stern) and stood there a
moment looking down over the stern, poising himself, and
wildly swinging his hands back and forth; then he dived
headforemost toward the icicle, in the vain hope that he might
fall lightly and secure a safe footing there ; or, better than that,
that he might veer around the pole and shoot high enough up
on the ascending orbit to fetch him to some place where there
was natural ground and green grass to walk on, for he had got
to abominate the very sight of ice; and he would prefer to
alight into a swarm of snakes in the interior of the Hottentot
country, than ever more to have to step his foot on ice.

So powerfully did he exert himself in the leap and plunge,
that he went on in a perfectly straight line true for the end
of the stem, which was about three hundred yards beneath
his starting-point. Both his arms were outspread, and both
of his legs were sticking out behind him, a little astraddle,
and his eyes were both wide open as he went sailing down.
His upside-down eyes were gazing at the ship, that had not
changed her course in the least, but was making straight out
in a bee-line into the great blue ocean of air. Fast as he was
going, he could see that the ship was streaming away at the
rate of two miles to his ten rods.

He had not got more than half-way to the icicle before he
heard a voice calling out, “I am fully convinced of the cor-
rectness of the Pear Theory! Farewell!” Hearing this,
Socrates rolled his eyes downward in the direction from whence
the sounds came, and there went the first mate; they passed
so near together that they only missed colliding by an arm's
length, The first mate had cleared the ice, and was now
shooting out before him in a very graceful manner, first one
foot then the other, precisely as if he were still skating on the
ice, and aiming as true as.a die in the Flying Comet’s wake.

Again Socrates raised his eyes toward the ship: he saw a

little bluish cloud to roll from the decks over the stern and
8 35

 
 

 

 

 

 

410 KATE WEATHERS; OR,

instantly vanish ; it was a whiff from Captain Blough Thomm’s
pipe. Ina few moments more the Flying Comet had got so
far away that she seemed to be a moony orb, rolling under the
clouds of Magellan, toward its aphelion. Then Socrates’ head
crashed on the flinty ice.

* * * * * * *

The disturbed sleeper had risen to his feet and mounted the
stool that he had been sitting upon (imagining that it was the
rudder-head), and after frantically swinging his hands a dozen
or more times, had leaped the distance of full six feet, and
fallen plumb on the top of his head in the middle of the floor.
For at least two minutes he lay there flat on his stomach,
scrambling about and trying to hold on to the planks of the
floor ; for he was fully convinced that he was not exceeding
six’ inches from the end of the icicle; and he was making
desperate efforts to stick his long finger-nails into the ice to
save him from slipping off.

The uproar and confusion that was now reigning around him
brought a glimmering of reason back to his mind. The baby
was flat on its back in the bunk, kicking up its heels and
screaming as only a scared baby can scream. Nancy, who had
been startled from sound sleep by the heavy jar and noise,
leaped forward on all fours immediately after Socrates, and
went rolling and somersaulting toward the door, out of which
she tumbled heels over head; and then she arose and fled
speedily away. While all this, and more, was going on, Soc-
rates did nothing but lie there on his stomach, turning his
head slowly and staring with an idiotic expression about the
room.

CHAPTER XLI.

CONFUSION IN THE HOUT.

“ On, me !—Oh, lorsy !—Have she busted your head open
with the chimbly? Have she killed you clean dead ?—Oh!
oh !—oh, me!”

These exclamations were made by Gilsey as she sprang to
her feet and stood in the middle of the bunk, gasping for

 

     

SCATTERED BY THE TEMPEST. 411

breath before each question, and staring wildly down, first at
Nancy as she went somersaulting out of the door, then at Soc-
rates as he scrambled about on the floor.

The questions were very silly ones, but Gilsey had been
sleeping soundly, and the thundering noises made by the diving
forward of Socrates and Nancy in quick succession were so
sudden and entirely without warning, that the only wonder
was that she too had not dived out on her head without wait-
ing to ask any question at all. She did not dive, but only
stood there, still half asleep, confused and bewildered, and
trembling from head to foot with fright, asking the questions
that happened to suggest themselves to her mind at the instant
she opened her eyes and saw Socrates hors du combat and

.Nancy in full flight from the bloody battle-field.

Socrates made no immediate answer to any of the inquiries,
for, the fact was, he was no better prepared to make an in-
telligent answer than she was to ask an intelligent question.
He had been ever since the plunge lying on his stomach and
holding up his head and peering around him, exactly as a snake
does; but at the hearing of the girl's voice he raised his head
still higher, and gazed around more wildly than before : at the
stools, the fireplace, the chest, the door, and then up into the
bunk at Gilsey. A j ;

“Qh, lorsy! Is you clean dead?” the frightened girl again
asked. :

“Oh; d ds you!” said Socrates. “No, I am not quite
dead, I believe; but very, very near death’s door!”

“ Tt must a-been a mighty lick!” said Gilsey ; “ for it woked
‘me up. What did she hit you with,—the chimbly? Oh,
me!”

“ No, she has not hit me with anything, child: it was plung-
ing headforemost on the icicle. But get up, child, and bring
a pan and gather up these brains that you will see scattered
about on the floor; I desire that they shall be buried in the
same grave with my body. Look here into my head: it is as
clean and empty as a bowl. Ah, what a terrible situation to
be in,—to have a head and not an ounce of brains in it!
Come, quick, child, and gather up the brains.”

“Brains!” said Gilsey. “Oh, lorsy! is they all busted
out ?”

“ Come, come! there is no time to be lost! I wish to see

 

 
 

 

 

412 KATE WEATHERS; OR,

with my own eyes that you have them all in the pan before I
expire |”

Gilsey leaped from the bunk and ran and snatched up the
cook-pan and came and stood near Socrates, holding it by the
handle. She paused then and seemed to be considering, for
she had got to be nearly wide awake. “No,” she said, after
a few moments’ thought, “’twon’t do to put folks’ brains into
this pan, for it’s what our folks puts wittles in. S'’posen I
runs out and gits a piece o’ pine bark, or a king-crab shell;
wouldn’t that do ’bout as good as the pan? Oh, me!”

“Stay! stay a minute!” said Socrates, as he sat up and
clamped both his hands down on the top of his head. “I
believe I was mistaken about the brains: do you see any scat-
tered around here? I was mistaken; my skull doesn’t seem
tobe as badly fractured as I had supposed it was. Really, it
must be an exceedingly tough and elastic skull, for I fell the
distance of full three hundred yards plumb on the hard ice!
Did I bounce very high, child? Ah, it is a shocking situation
to be in, to have one’s skull cracked into a thousand and odd
stars! Run your fingers through my hair: there, do you not
feel a number of cracks and broken places ?”

“Ther’ ain’t no cracks in it as I sees,” said Gilsey; “but
here’s a whelk bigger’n my two fists, right on the top where
the hair don’t grow. Oh, me! it looks as if another head was
comin’ out !”

“Ah!” sighed Socrates; “the wonder is that there is any
head at all. Ay, truly wonderful that it was not shivered into
fragments ; it must be a tough icicle, too, that the end of it
was not cracked off by so severe a concussion.”

“Teicle!” said Gilsey. ‘“ Where’s any icicle? There ain’t
no icicle here as I sees |”

“No icicle? Ah, yes. Go sit there on the chest, child;
I believe my thoughts are rambling. Whose house is this?”

“This! Why it’s where—it’s where Stam and Kate and
our folks lives; on North Banks. Don’t you know you and
granny was settin’ there by the chimbly? I woked up a spell
ago, and heerd you talkin’ to her.”

“ Ah, stay!” said Socrates. “I do begin to understand it
now. I have been dreaming. Yes, I suppose I must have
leaped from the stool upon my head. Did you observe, child,
whether Captain Blough Thomm’s ship changed her course

 

 

    

SCATTERED BY THE TEMPEST. 413

and bore up northward after passing under the clouds of
Magellan ?” :

Gilsey’s eyes spread wide open at hearing this question.
She made several steps backward in the direction of the door,
then stood staring. “Cap'n Blue Tom’s ship 2”

“ Ah, bear with me, child! I had forgot. I remember
now,—this is the house of Stam Weathers; and I have been
dreaming,—Stam Weathers’s house? Is it possible that Stam
Weathers or any other mortal man would choose to come and
live at such a place as this? Why, child, what can your peo-
ple be thinking about, to come and live on the tip end of an
icicle? It is the last place in the whole world, I should say,
for any sane man to erect a dwelling upon. Gracious mercy !
I am sure I shall never get the consent of my mind to step
my foot out of the door for fear of slipping off!”

At hearing this, Gilsey backed still nearer toward the door,
then she turned her face half toward it with the evident in-
tention of darting out and away, but, remembering the baby
in the bunk, she paused and glanced toward it, trembling like
a leaf.

“ Don’t be frightened, child,” said Socrates, kindly, “ for
now I remember that it was all a dream; there was really no
icicle, and no ship, and no Captain Blough Thomm,—only a
strange dream that I have had. Don’t fear. I recollect all
now; here are you and I in Stam Weathers’s house at North
Banks. Oh, yes, I understand all about it. Certainly I do!
Gracious heavens! how grandly she flew down the stem!
All sails set! Forty-three flags flying! Five hundred miles
an hour! There went the first mate skating along in the
ship’s wake, leaning forward his body; shooting out first one
leg then the other, in the most easy and graceful manner;
making a two-mile run on one foot, then a two-mile run on
the other, and then a half-mile on both; seemingly not aware
of the fact that he had arisen from the ice and was skimming
on through the air! Well, I am glad the first mate was con-
vinced. - Only think, our heads lacked but twelve inches of
colliding !”

While Socrates was uttering these words he was looking
intently downwards. From the expression of his eyes he
seemed to be gazing clean through the floor, at some object

away down in the bowels of the earth. And even for some
35*

  

 

 
  

 

414

 

KATE WEATHERS; OR,

minutes after he had got done speaking he continued to gaze
at that distant object.

Gilsey, thinking that she might not have a more favorable
opportunity to take the baby from the bunk and escape with
it, crept noiselessly and cautiously in from the door, keeping
her eye fixed upon the dreaming man as she went, and she
had just succeeded in lifting the child into her arms when
Socrates raised his head and arose to his feet and went and
stood in the door.

“ Ah, yes,” he said, “here it is as plain as can be. It
was a dream. Here are the sands and thickets; and yonder
are the hill-tops over the trees; and here is the path that
winds through the woods. Let me see. Doctor Skyelake
and his strange friend were here, and they, with Stam and
Kate, went off together, and it may be that they are now on
their way back from the island, for the sun has been out of
the sea for an hour. I have overslept myself. Yes, Nancy
was sitting there at the hearth smoking her pipe. Where has
your granny gone, child ?”

“ Last I seed of her,” said Gilsey, “she rolled out, then riz
and run. She’s gone good fashion. I don’t know where.”

“Ah, no doubt she is frightened,—truly unfortunate. I must
find her and explain.” Saying this he stepped from the door
and looked down the path. There stood Nancy near the
angle, a hundred yards away. She had stopped and was gazing
back, and as Socrates made his appearance, she stretched out
her neck and stared as one wild.

“Come back, my dear madam,” said Socrates, in a loud
voice, “ or else wait until I come there. I can explain to your
satisfaction.”

But no sooner had Nancy heard the first word than she
darted away, and disappeared in the jungle.

“ Poor creature!” said Socrates. ‘I must follow and dis-
abuse her mind. No doubt she takes it that I am a conjurer

or witch.” He then ran off in the direction the woman had
taken.

 

 

    

SCATTERED BY THE TEMPEST. 415

CHAPTER XLII.

CHANGING HEADQUARTERS.

Wraprpep in the deep shadows of the forest pines, that
line the southern shores of Collington Island, sits a solitary
man. He is looking out from beneath the dark curtain of
overhanging boughs upon the broad expanse of star-lit waters
before him. It is past midnight. No sounds have been heard
by him during the long hours that he has been sitting there,
except the constant plash of the little waves that come rolling
in and tumbling on the narrow rim of clean sandy shore near
him, and the moaning flute-notes of light winds through the
tree-tops. ‘

So silently has he continued there, that one who might
have been near by and known of his presence, could not have
told whether he had been awake or asleep. But now a slight
rustle of the dry leaves on the ground as of one creeping cau-
tiously over them is heard, and he emerges from the deeper
darkness to the water’s brink, and stands there on the hard
sand, at times with hand to ear, listening ; at times stooping
forwardaimd peering out. He has caught the sounds of dip-
ping pa and the rush and gurgle of a boat passing
through the water, and soon he discovers the dim outlines of
a little skiff, and the figures of two persons in it.

The skiff is coasting along from the eastward, and seems to
be about to pass on by, when suddenly those in the boat cease
to ply their paddles, and sit motionless looking toward the land.

“ Did you hear it ?” asked one in a whisper.

“Tt sounded like his whistle,” the other answered. “ But
we left him a smart piece to the westward of this. Le’s drop
closer in to shore :—Sol !” ;

“ Come on,—it’s me!” was the answer. “I come nigh
lettin’ you pass on by; but I couldn’t make out but two of
you in the boat, so I thought I’d call. Where did you come
across that skiff, and what do you lay off to do in her?”

“ We got her out of the creek,” said Len Curt, “and we've

om re

 
 

416 KATE WEATHERS; OR,

 

been plannin’ to cross to the other side of the sound in her,
for it seems there ain’t no use to stay here any longer. She’s
a light thing, and she’s got three good paddles in her, so it
won't take us long to git over; we can drive her a six-knot
lick through water as slick as we’ve got it now.”

“Where do you aim to go?” asked Sol.

“ That's accordin’,” said Len. “ We can cross to the island
first: then maybe we'll take a notion to run over from there to
Croatan, But it’s hard to calculate ahead in sich a case as
this, for we mought see things on the way that would turn us
one way or another, We'll go over that way somewheres, for
them we are lookin’ for don’t use on this side of the water ;
we've been here long enough to find that out. Maybe if we
should run over to North End and hang around there to-
morrow night, we shall find out somethin’ about the lights we
seed there last night. Them lights was meant for one thing
or another; they didn’t blaze out that way for nothin’. But
it’s like you says, cap'n: if you says go, we'll go; or if you
says stay here, we'll stay; or if you’d ruther put back home
we'll go there.”

“ Really,” said Pierre, “I am in a quandary. There is some
mystery connected with these lights. ‘They were, as you say,
for some purpose. But is it probable that the party we are in
search of has separated? And, again, if so, is it probable
that any of that party are on Roanoke Island? I have
thought much of the matter, but I must confess that I have
been totally unable to reach any conclusion. I am disposed,
however, to think with you that we had better cross to the
island ; possibly we may learn something there that will lead
us into the right track.”

“Them lights was meant for signals for one thing or an-
other,” said Len. “You see, news goes from the island to
Croatan ; then answer goes back from Croatan to the island.
Maybe so there’s smugglin’ goin’ on (for sich as that has been
done hereabouts), but it runs in my head that them warn’t
smugglers’ signals. I should ruther think that them devils
has got into two gangs, and that they're up to some more
deviltry. If it is them, like as any way they'll be out ag’in
to-night; and then we had ought to be nearer to ’em, for it’s

my belief if we stays here we shan’t know no more than what
we does now.”

 

—

 

    

SCATTERED BY THE TEMPEST. 417

“ But it’s too late to find out anything to-night,” said Sol.

“Maybe not,” said Len. “It’s now two hours sooner in
the night than it was last night when the lights showed ; then
the seven-stars was gittin’ well to west’ard, now you see they’re
purty much overhead. If they should put off comin’ out to-
night as late as they did last night (and it’s my belief that
whoever they is, they'll be apt to take the little eend of the
night to do their signallin’ in), we can git over there before the
time they gits at it, and not be in sich a mighty hurry about
it either.” :

“ But we're ‘too late for to-night,” said Sol, “for they've
been out already.”

“To-night, Sol?” asked Pierre. “Have they been out
to-night ?”

“ Have you seed ’em ag’in to-night, Sol?” asked Len, ex-
citedly. ; :

“It’s that that brought me here,” said Sol.“ I’ve sot here
and watched ’em for two hours. When you went off and left
me at the p’int to the west’ard, I got to thinking maybe the
lights would be showed again to-night before you got back ;
so I moved down here where I could have a better sight of
Croatan shore ; and I hadn’t been here long before two lights
blazed out from North End; then purty soon they was
answered by two at Croatan; then the North End lights got
to wavin’ and dancin’, and them on the other side waved and
danced ; then all the lights went out but one at North End,
and it stayed there blazin’ nigh on to two hours, I should say ;
then i went out. Ever since that, nothin’ ain’t been seen
but the dark sound and the stars over it.” . : =

“ How long has it been since that last light disappeared ?
asked Pierre.

“ Close on to two hours.”

“ Tt’s about like I said,” said Len Curt; “ it can’t be made
out but two ways: a company of smugglers is about there
hidin’ away Holland gin and things that’s been brought in
from the West Indies ; or them that we are after has got up
some sort of a game betwixt Roanoke and Croatan ; and it’s
more apt to be the last way than the first ; if it turns out so,
we'll be apt to come up by ’em if we works it right. You
see them at the island has been tellin’ different news to-night
from what they did last night; for they've had double lights.

8*

 
 

  

418

 

KATE WEATHERS; OR,

T should say that last light stayed up to steer by ; and it’s my
belief they've all got together on the island: ten to one if
every one of ’em ain’t on Roanoke Island this minit! If that
be so, the best thing we can do is to run across and hang
around North End; for it won’t be long before they are on
the move ag’in, whether it be smugglers or no.”

“T am disposed to think that your conclusions are correct,”
said Pierre, “and I doubt not but that the best thing we can
do will be to follow your suggestion, and run across without
loss of time.”

Sol stepped into the skiff, and in a few minutes the three
men were on their way crossing the dreary waters toward
Roanoke Island, seven miles to the southward; and in an
hour from the time they left Collington shore the dark line
of the land for which they had been steering was in their
view. Then all the paddles except that of Len, who sat in
the stern, were taken into the boat, for it was necessary now
to be extremely cautious. Even Len’s paddle did nothing
but trail noiselessly astern as the skiff went drifting slowly
along shoreward before the light breeze.

“ Would it not be well,” asked Pierre, “to continue about
where we are? If they are on the island, as you think, they
probably have posted their pickets, who may be very near to
us. Again, if they attempt to return to Croatan to-night we
shall be most apt to see them, I think, by remaining where we
are.”

“ Listen !” said Sol: “ Ain’t some one on the water to the
s'uthard of us ?—there! warn’t that a sail rattlin’ ?”

“That's them! that’s them!” said Len; “they’re a mile
or more to the s’uth’ard. That’s them !”

“Let us hurry that way,” said Pierre; “it may be that
they will again escape us, if we are not quick |”

“One thing,” said Len, as he turned the skiff’s bow to the
southward: “it's well enough we should study what we are
doin’ now. If it turns out to be smugelers, there’s apt to be
a smart gang of ’em, and they with guns too. Then if it’s
the others, like as any way there’s two of them to our one,
and all we've got to fight with is these paddles. - Maybe we'd
better follow ’em along easy-like, and find out which way they
takes ; and then, when day breaks, we shan’t be bothered to
git help enough to take’em. Not as I’m afeerd of ‘em, for I

 

    

SCATTERED BY THE TEMPEST. 419

ain’t; but then there wouldn’t be no use of spiling every-
thing now that we’ve got the game in our hands. S’posen
there’s women and children, how would it be with them when
a dozen or more should be hittin’ and cuttin’, and maybe
shootin’ all over and among ’em; and that too out here in the
sound, and dark as it is?” eee.

“Stop ! stop!” said Pierre, “I hear their voices ! :

“T see their boat,” said Sol; “they've got sailg on, and is
headin’ for the island; hold her back, or they'll sight us !

‘For God’s sake stop her!” said Pierre, in a tremulous
whisper, “ they may see us and escape. We shall have them
at greater advantage when they get on land.” a3

“Be easy,” said Len; “I know what I’m doin’. They
can’t see us as long as we keeps this far off. Our boat is
little, and theirs is big; and they’ve got a sail up besides; we
can watch them, and they not know anything about us. But
keep still and let me work things ; I'll have ‘em right. What
can you make out now, Sol?” : hay

“She’s got a mainsail and jib on, and is headin’ for shore

et.”
’ “ Rasy, then, and keep your eye on her, boy!”

Tt was not long before the boat reached the shallow waters
near the shore. Then were heard distinctly the unshipping
of the rudder, the furling of sails, the plash of the anchor,
and the wading of a number of persons from the boat to
shore.

“There’s a woman among ’em,” said Sol; “1 hears her
talkin’.” :

Pierre, too, heard that woman-voice, and he bowed his face
in his hands and groaned deeply. ae

“Don’t spile things now!” said Len Curt; “for if it’s
them we've got ’em safe, I’m thinkin’; we can git help enough
here to take ’’em if there should be twenty of ’em. But then
you mustn’t forgit, cap’n, that this is pertickler bizness, and it
wouldn’t take much to spile it.”

“Have no fear of me,” said Pierre; “but oh! my God,
how hard it is now to obey the voice of reason |” :

“T guess they've all gone up on the island,” said Sol ; “ or
if they've left any behind to picket, maybe they ain’t more
than what we can handle: but I guess it’s well enough to be
keerful, for maybe they’ve got guns.”

 
  

420

 

KATE WEATHERS; OR,

“ Keerful it is, then!” said Len. “ We are gittin’ close on
‘em! Keep your eyes well open when we sides up to the
boat! Hold your paddles ready to hit! Here we is!”

As Len spoke he placed his hand on the hilt of his knife,
as if to be positively certain that it was still there in its scab-
bard at his side; then noiselessly again he plied his paddle,
and the skiff glided on until it reached the anchored boat.
Softly the three men arose to their feet and placed their hands
on the gunwales. There they stood a time, peering over to
see if any were left upon the watch; but none were there.

“Tt’s them!” said Len; “the very devils we are after!”

“Are you sure, Len?” gasped Pierre; “are you sure?”

“Tt's them!” Len repeated. “This is Jim Beam’s boat!
We'll git em now! Git aboard of her, Sol; unship the mast
and take the anchor in. Easy, Sol! they’re close by yet!
Take the skiff in tow; push her along with the sprit to’ards
the North End and hide her in the rushes ; wait there in her
till you hears from us. Now, cap’n, me and you'll git out

here and go up on the island behind ’em. Easy, Sol! they’re
close by yet!”

 

CHAPTER XLIII.

A FIERCE ATTACK,

Prerre and Len were crouching low in the thick growth
near the sound-shore when morning dawned. For two hours
they had been there waiting for the return of those who had
landed from Jim Beam’s boat. They were near by the side
of a little foot-path that went winding up from the water
through the gaulberry toward the heart of the island. Their
crouching-place was on the eastern slope of the ridge that
bordered the sound-shore ; and being at an elevation of fifteen
or twenty feet above the level of the waters, the sounds and
Collington Island, and the long line of sea-coast were in full
view by the light of day.

More and more distinctly the yellow level, and the bald hills,
and the green thickets of the coast were coming out in the

 

SCATTERED BY THE TEMPEST. 421

view ; and continually brighter and more golden the skies
that reached arching over the billowing floods away beyond
the coast; until the morning sun in unveiled splendor came
leaping from the deep.

Often the silent watchers wondered that no one had come
near yet. Where had those gone who had landed there a few
hours before? Had they other means of leaving the island
than the boat that had brought them to it? And yet, if they
had other means, was it not strange that they had taken so
little pains to cover and conceal the footmarks and traces that
they had left behind them? It might be that they had con-
federates upon the island; but it couid not surely be that all
the inhabitants were in league with them ; and yet from their
bold manner of proceeding, it appearcd that such must be the
case,

“This is comical!” said Len. ‘ Maybe they spied us fol-
lowing after ‘em. But then I guess it don’t matter much, no
way; for they’re on the island, and we've got daylight to help
us now. They won't find it so easy to dodge us in the day-
time! All we've got to do now, cap’n, is to go on, and git on
the trail; and when we starts em up they'll be apt to bear
this way where they left their boat. We'll trap ’em! ?

“ But may it not be,”’ said Pierre, “ that those who stole Jim
Beam’s boat would not hesitate to steal another? No doubt
there are many boats about the island that would answer their
purpose equally as well as the one they came in. I fear they
have escaped us, Len!”

“ No; I guess it ain't that way,” said Len; “ they was too
pertickler for that. If it had been that way, they wouldn’t a-
stopped to unship the rudder, and furl up the sails and anchor
the boat. Then ag’in, they wouldn’t a-been so fussy,—talkin
loud, and pitchin’ the anchor overboard, and then wadin and
splashin’ from the boat to shore. No; I guess they’re on this
island yet; and if so be they is, we shall know more about "em
than what we does now before night comes on ag’in. But
there’s no use for us to stay here squatted in the bushes any
longer.” And as Len spoke these words he arose to his feet
and was about to step out in the path, when the rustling of
bushes near by was heard, and instantly he crouched again.

“ What is it?” asked Pierre, who was still crouching.

“ Hush!” said Len. ‘“Somethin’s pushin’ through the
36

   

 
    

 

422 KATE WEATHERS; OR,
bushes in the path toward us! Yonder comes one! Stay right
there where you is. I'll do for him when he gits up handy !”
Len had drawn the knife from its scabbard, and was holding it
in his firm clutch. :

“ Wait, Len,” said Pierre. ‘“ Permit him to pass on to the
shore, so that I may see who he is. If it be one of them he
will return this way.”

The man passed on, within a few feet of them, to the shore.

“Ts he one?” asked Len, in a whisper.

“Yes; I know him well! Stir not, Len, for 7 must deal
with him. Still! he comes !”

“It'll take nimble work,” said Len. “S’posen I helps
you ?”

“ No; remain there; I will act alone.”

‘The man again reached the place where the two were
crouching, and was passing hastily by, when Pierre leaped for-
ward and seized him by the throat. “ Stay, cowardly villain !”
he said. “Where are my wife and children? Tell me in-
stantly, or before God you shall die!”

Instantly Frangois recognized his furious assailant. “Give
me an opportunity to tell you,” he said, “ and before the same
God, you shall know all. ‘They are near you; unharmed. Be
patient ; you will see for yourself.”

“ Brute!” said Pierre; “think not that villainous falsehood
can shield you now; for now we stand on even ground!
Where are my wife and children ?”

Frangois snatched his knife from its seabbard and threw it
from him. “ Now we do stand on even ground,” he said;
“and I am ready as an honest man to render the account that
you demand. I repeat,—and before God I speak truly,—your
family are safe and unharmed !”

Pierre’s fingers relaxed their strengthful grip. He stepped
back, still gazing into Frangois’s face. _“ Safe and unharmed!”
he gasped. ‘ All safe? all unharmed ?”

«Ay, sir! All safe; all unharmed !”

“ Kill the devil!” said Len, leaping from his hiding-place,
with the drawn knife upraised. “ Kill him! he lies! for see!
another is coming in the path, and this one is only waitin’ for
help. Stand away, and let me chop his heart from him, before
it’s too late! See; the other is runnin’ to help him! Quick,
quick ; stand away !”

 

 

 

SCATTERED BY THE TEMPEST. 423

Jeannot approached within a few feet before he recognized
Pierre. He had rushed forward to take part in the struggle
in defence of his friend; but now he stood as a statue; pale
as snow. “Harm him not, for heaven’s sake!” he gasped.
“He has not wronged you; hear him patiently !”

“ Devil!” exclaimed Len, as he rushed toward Jeannot;
“ you lie!”

“Stay, Len; stay!” said Pierre, as he grasped the man’s
uplifted arm. “They must be heard!”

“ Hear us,” said Frangois; “then if you find that we are
attempting to deceive you, inflict upon us such punishment as
we may deserve.”’

“ They must be heard, Len !” said Pierre.

“ Well, then, do as you're a mind to; but it ain’t my fashion
to wait in sich a-case as this. The waitin’ I should do would
be to chop the lights out 0’ one, and then wait till I could come
up by the next one. And that’s the best way to wait, too.”

« We will offer no resistance,” said Frangois, “except for the
preservation of our lives. But hear us; for we will speak the
truth as honest men.”

“T’ll swear you'd better work quick!” said Len, fiercely ;
“for here comes another! Shouldn't wonder if it was that
cussed beelzebub of a Portagee at that! You'd better let me
git some of ‘em out o’ the way, man, afore they gathers round
us too thick! Look! look! look! The whole company of ’em’s
comin’! Ain't that Stam Weathers ?—Kate Weathers? and
ain’t that Lucifer Grindle?—Comfort Grindle? Look! look!
What a company! They keeps on comin’ !”

“ Here, sir, come your wife and children: we are willing
to rest the truth of our statements with them.”

“Oh, Father in heaven!” exclaimed Marie, as she rushed
forward into her husband’s open arms; “and have our prayers
indeed been heard? and is our loved one indeed restored to
us? Oh, merciful Father!”

“Precious Marie!” said Pierre, as he clasped his sobbing
wife to his heart; “and, oh, precious little lambs !—all re-
stored? all—all restored 2 Thank God! all are restored !”

 
KATE WEATHERS; OR,

CHAPTER XLIV.

A SICK MAN.

    

NEVER was more joyful meeting than that of Pierre de
PAuzanne and his family. Many and affectionate were their
glad greetings and caresses; and few were the dry eyes that
witnessed that meeting.

Paul had predicted, at the time old Basil met his children
at North End, that, when papa should be found, mamma and
Lucie and Murat would cry; and that little Adele would
reach out her arms toward her father and laugh. And, to
that extent, the prediction was verified to the very letter; but
the sage prophecy did not end there: he that had got to be so
big a boy would act upon that joyful occasion very differently
from all the rest; instead of crying he would express his joy
by a round burst of loud laughter. But poor Paul! No
sooner had he reached his father’s arms, and given and re-
ceived the kiss of tender love, than he buried his face in his
bosom and wept and sobbed for a full half-hour.

Marie gave her husband a full account of their wanderings,
and of their manner of living, and of their escapes. She
had also much to say of the noble conduct of Frangois and
Jeannot. Pierre also related his many adventures, and spoke
feelingly and thankfully of the generous part that those rude
North Bankers had taken in his behalf. Tears stood in his
eyes as he thanked, in tremulous words, the brave protectors
of his helpless wife and little ones. But neither Frangois nor
Jeannot would listen to the excuses that he attempted to
render for his late very rude treatment of them. They said
that nothing was more natural than that he should suspect
them of being in full sympathy with Pedro; and that they
greatly admired his moderation and forbearance in not resort-
ing to extreme measures under such circumstances. But
when it came Len’s turn to excuse himself for his uncivil
treatment of innocent men before giving them an opportunity
to be heard, he did it in so blunt and bungling a manner that

 

 

SCATTERED BY THE TEMPEST. 425

the whole company, including Frangois and Jeannot, laughed
long and heartily. :

Sol was called forth from his hiding-place among the high
tushes, and. Jim Beam’s boat and the skiff, and the boat of
Lucifer Grindle, were soon on their way toward the coast, all
freighted with as happy a company of human souls as ever
crossed Roanoke Sound before or since. And of that com-
pany, and not less happy than the rest, were Lucifer Grindle
himself and his smiling, chattering old wife Comfort.

Three weeks passed, and still that whole company were at
North Banks. Not only were the huts of Stam and Len
crowded to their utmost capacity by the large addition of
guests, but Stam and Len and Sol and Pierre and Lucifer and
old Basil, with Frangois as chief architect, had erected quite
a commodious shanty as a place of habitation for themselves,
and in a few days after their arrival they were all comfortable
enough.

Paul, who was very fond of fishing, was as happy now as
he desired to be. Not a day passed but that some of the
men went to the beach with their fishing-tackle and caught
quantities of fish,—some of which were more than three feet
long and of the weight of fifty pounds or more,

Poor Gilsey Roe! never before had she known what real
happiness was. She learned to romp and play and to laugh as
loudly as the loudest, and never a day came but that she was
marshalling the host of little strangers about the plains and
valleys, and over the hills and through the thickets, and up
and down the sea-beach and sound-shore; now they would
be gathering grapes and chincapins and acorns in the thickets,
and now busy in the chase of sand-fiddlers; now they would
be rolling down the steep sand-hills; now wading in the sound;
now eating; now sleeping,—ever joyous.

Kate, too, was joyous, and more than ever she desired to
find a new home in the great world that she now heard spoken
of so frequently.

The baby was well again, and Fawn and Lucie delighted to
wash it and comb out its hair, that had never before been
combed out, and to dress it in the clothes that they found in
the trunk that had been washed ashore from the wreck twenty-
nine years before, though they were all too large for it. And

many a time as the mother received the child from their arms,
36*

 
   

 

426 KATE WEATHERS; OR,

after they had dressed it to their satisfaction, she would hold
it upon her bosom and look down into its face and imagine
that nothing so beautiful had ever had life before.

Kate loved all the children dearly ; but Fawn most of all,
for she fancied that in her she could see a resemblance to Dear
Mamma; and many a time did she press the not unwilling
child to her bosom and softly touch her lips to hers. Fawn,
too, who had never known of woman’s pure love and affec-
tion, returned that love even more tenderly than she had
courage to express by word or act; and often she would sit at
Kate’s side and tell her what she had learned from old Basil
of the beauteous land where dear mamma had gone to dwell ;
often, too, she knelt with her and repeated the simple prayers
that she had learned when her home was on the island in
Wild Lake.

Three weeks, it has been said, had passed since that morn-
ing of the joyful meeting of Pierre and his family ; but where
had been Socrates Junior during that three weeks? For
three weeks the bunk in Stam Weathers’s house had been
occupied by a very sick man. Scorched by fever and racked
by pain, that poor man had been lying there unconscious of
everything that had been transpiring around him; nor only
so, but most of the time during his waking hours he had been
madly raving, and staring wildly and fiercely about him,—often
struggling with all his might to arise and be off,—never in
such a condition that it was deemed prudent by his friends to
leave him alone. That man was Socrates Junior.

Those that were there in the three boats that came from the
island to the coast on that happy morning, who knew Soe-
rates, were greatly surprised that he was not at the landing to
receive and welcome them. But, when hour after hour passed,
and still he failed to make his appearance, anxious inquiries
began to be made for him. Gilsey related in the best man-
ner she could, and as intelligently as she was able, all about
the noises that had awakened her and the baby out of their deep
sleep in the early morning, and about Nancy’s flight and Soc-
rates’ pursuit of her; and she said that she had seen neither
of them since. Those who knew Nancy began then to have
dark suspicions, and a careful search through the woods was
instituted, which resulted, after hours, in finding the old man
several miles up the coast lying upon his back in the midst of

ae

SCATTERED BY THE TEMPEST. 427

a thick jungle, groaning and breathing heavily, and no doubt
he would have expired there if he had continued without as-
sistance even for a few hours longer. But he was carefully
taken up and removed to the house of Stam, and there in the
bunk he had been lying ever since, and not a lucid moment
had he had in the time. But woman's healing hand had been
there to rest upon his fevered brow,—the music of her voice
had been there to soothe him with words of tender sympathy.

All the men were ever ready to do what was in their power
to relieve him and render his suffering as light as possible ;
but there was one who never left his side for an hour at a time,
—day and night he was there,—ever turning his hand where
it might be for the sufferer’s greatest relief. That man was
Jeannot. And now, on this morning after the third week,
Jeannot was occupying his usual place at the sick man’s side.
For hours a shade of deep sadness had been on the faithful
watcher’s face. During the past twenty-four hours the sick
man had been unusually quiet; and most of that time he had
slept soundly. But his friends had forebodings that so sudden
a change, from frenzy to peaceful quiet, was not for good; and
they were by no means satisfied that the long gentle slumber-
ing was any evidence of improvement in the poor man’s con-
dition,—nay, they feared much that it was but that quiet that
often precedes early dissolution. And Jeannot sharing these
fears with the rest, was now even more watchful and attentive
than before.

All was quiet in and about the hut. The sick man’s friends
were standing and sitting near him, looking on and wondering
when the long slumber would end,—wondering for how many
hours yet the death angel would delay his coming.

The sufferer had ceased his ravings so long before that every
trace of fierceness had vanished, and now the pale sunken face
was calm and placid. The hour of noon had passed befort
the sick man showed signs of remaining life. Jeannot was
smoothing away the thin hair from his forehead when he
sighed ; then the long quiet slumber was for a time broken.
The deep eyes opened and turned wearily from one to other
of’ those silent ones near ; then they fell upon the face of that
faithful one whose place was nearest to him. For some mo-
ments they rested quietly there, seeming to watch the tears
that welled up and out on the sad cheeks; then they turned

 

 
   

 

 

428 KATE WEATHERS; OR,

for an instant in another direction. It was observed that the
old man started slightly when the weary eyes returned to the
sad face near him.

“T am dreaming,” he said, in a feeble voice. “ How like
his face! Ah! I am dreaming,—my boy is dead !”

They were the first words that Socrates had spoken. The
young man fell on his knees and laid his head on the pillow
near the sufferer’s. For a time sobs choked his utterance, but
at last he said, “ You are not dreaming, dear father. It is
Lucien. It is your son.”

“Lucien! My God! Is it indeed my boy! Lucien! I
would embrace you, boy, but I cannot stir. Raise my arms
and place them around your neck. There, there. It és my
boy, even if it be a dream.”

“Quiet now, dear Lucien,” whispered Frangois; “‘ remember
it is important that you command your feelings, for much
depends upon your action now. Be strong, dear Lucien.”

“Where am I?” asked the old man. “ Where are we? and
who are these near us ?”

“You have been very, very sick ; and we are at the house
of a kind friend. All these are sympathizing friends; but
rest quietly now: you will be in a condition to talk with me
soon ; but rest now, for you are weak and weary.”

“Rest? Dear boy, it is sweet rest to have you near me.
But are you to remain, Lucien? I fear to sleep, for I might
lose you. Tell me again that I dream not, and that you will
remain with me.”’

“Tt is no dream, father; Lucien is with you, and will re-
main here at your side. Be composed, then, for rest is need-
ful to you now. I shall be here at your side when you awake.”

Frangois then whispered something to those present, and
one by one they passed noiselessly out of the hut and left
only Jeannot at his place holding the old man's bony hand in
his.

Again the weary one was slumbering ; but now his regular
breathing told that the crisis had’ passed, and that his condi-
tion was favorable. The sun was setting when he awoke.
Frangois had returned and was seated near Jeannot when the
deep eyes again opened. Those deep eyes were happier and
less weary now.

“Tt was a sweet dream,” the old man whispered ; “a sweet

 

 

SCATTERED BY THE TEMPEST. 429

dream. My boy was with me, my arms embraced him.
What gladness comes with such a dream !” 5 ae

“Tt was not a dream, sir,” said Frangois. “ Lucien sits
now at your side.”

“Not a dream? Is this Lucien? Raise your head, boy,
that I may see your face. Yes, the face is his. Am I awake?

“Yes, father,” said Lucien, “you are awake. You have
been very ill.” ee

“Tll? Where are we? How long have I been ill?

“We are at the house of a kind friend, on the sea-coast,
father, and you have been ill for weeks.” ;

“Weeks? Do you not mean years? Where is your
precious mother, boy? Ah! answer not; I know!

“ Be quiet and composed, dear father.” :

“T will, my son. I will be quiet. I can but be quiet and
at peace when you are near; but it is a joy, Lucien, to talk
about your angel mother. Yes, angel mother; for I remem-
ber now that she is dead. How often my hands have placed
flowers on her grave! What a long dreary blank has been life
since she died! Yet why, Lucien, have I thought that you
too were dead, and that I was alone,—utterly alone? Tell all, my
dear boy, for feeble as I know I am, I am prepared to hear it
all from you. Tell me what my life has been since the death
of your mother. And why have I thought that you, too,
had gone from me? All is confusion with me,—the real and
unreal are woven so closely together, that I am unable to
separate them. Tell me all, my boy.” e z

“Tell him,” Frangois whispered ; ‘ he can hear it from you.

“Tt is a sad tale, father, and you are very feeble.’

“T know it is sad, and that I am feeble, yet I am prepared
to hear it all. So far from affecting me injuriously, it will
lift a weight that has for long years been crushing down upon
my heart.” .

“In the midst of your deep grief for my dear mother,
said Lucien, “ you received intelligence of my severe illness
in a foreign land; then you became extremely ill, and your life
was despaired of. After a long time you recovered sufficiently
to take shipping to visit me; but the ship in which you sailed
was wrecked, and only one on board besides yourself was
saved. He reported that you could not be prevailed upon
to remain in the boat in which you had left the sinking

 

 

 
  

430

 

KATE WEATHERS; OR,

ship with him, though it was dreary night, but that you in-
sisted upon getting off on a part of the wreck that eame drift-
ing near. He was picked up by a passing ship on the next
day. I could but cling to the hope that you had been saved,
and for nearly two years past my life has been spent on the
seas searching and inquiring for you. In all my travels I
have been accompanied by this gentleman, my kind friend and
preceptor, Monsieur Frangois d’Au Bigne. He has advised
my course from the first, and it was at his suggestion that we
both shipped as common seamen at New Orleans, in the hope
(faint though it was) that by mingling intimately with those
whose business was altogether on the great waters, we might
hear tidings of you; something, at least, that might place us
in the true line of search.”

““Say no more,” said the old man; “reason was not able to
sustain the heavy burden of accumulated sorrows and dis-
appointments ; but, thank God, my dear son is alive and with
me. My dutiful and affectionate boy! Already I feel the
rays of heavenly peace entering and warming my heart that
has been so long crushed and bleeding beneath its weight of
griefs, and that reason has returned and resumed her throne.
Oh, humbly I thank Our Father for his goodness !”

Lucifer had been standing in the door listening in astonish-
ment to these remarks of the sick man ; and no sooner had he
ceased speaking, then he stepped forward and stood beside the
bunk. An expression of real gladness beamed on his face as
he said, “Just but listen at the man; he’s got well ag’in all
ina minit like! But, see here, Socrates, sure as you are a livin’
man you'd better let that pear bizness alone, for it’s nothin’
but that that’s brought all this on you. Hanged if you don’t
bust your brains out sure 'nough, if you make many more
sich dives headforemost on the hard floor. Quit the pear
bizness, Socrates, for that’s the 'casion of all this, sure as your
name is Socrates !”

"Sieg rine

 

SCATTERED BY THE TEMPEST. 431

CHAPTER XLY.

HOMEWARD BOUND.

Ir was not long before the sick man recovered under the
kind treatment that he received ; and his friends were greatly
rejoiced that the recovery of sound mind accompanied that of
a healthy body. Lucifer and Comfort were astonished beyond
measure at hearing his conversations on practical subjects, and
in language that could be understood. Socrates now made it
a point to impress upon the minds of the simple but very
kind friends, with whom he had so long sojourned, that all
that he had said about the Pear Theory, and a thousand other
things, were only the whims and fancies of a disordered brain.
He informed them, too, that his name was not Socrates, but
William Durelle. To all this they would sit and listen with
great interest. It mattered but little to them what their
strange friend’s true name might be,—they continued to ad-
dress him as Socrates to the very last. And as to the Pear
Theory, they were very glad to learn the truth of the matter,
and that the whole thing was a mere whim of the imagina-
tion ; for, so far from feeling any interest in the subject, it
had been from the very first a great bore to them. And the
fact is, all they remembered of what had been told them about
it was, that the earth is exactly the shape of a pound-pear,
which in their hearts they never had been able to believe-—
knowing, as they did from what they saw every day with their
own eyes, that it is as flat as the bottom of a tin pan. But
when they came to be told that that about Doctor Skyelake
and Chickimicomocachie was also a whim, their disappointment
knew no bounds; indeed, it required considerable argument
on the part of Doctor Skyelake himself to satisfy them on
that point,—if, indeed, they ever were fully satisfied,—for it
was no easy undertaking to explain away the strange things
that their own eyes had seen, and the unaccountable sounds
that their own ears had heard. :

Pierre, who had only been waiting for the recovery of the

 

 

 
    

     

432 KATE WEATHERS; OR,

sick man, began now to make active preparations to depart
from the sea-coast for his home in Louisiana. Stam and
Kate had gladly consented to accompany him and his family,
but no one was more delighted at the prospect of seeing the
great world from which all the wrecks came than was poor
Gilsey Roe. Old Basil and his children were going with them
too, for Lucie and Paul desired of all things that Fawn and
Timon should remain with them ; and the old man could not
have it in his heart to separate his children from those whom
they had already learned so dearly to love. Lucien, and his
father and faithful friend, would also be of the company as far
as to the first seaport; but from thence they would depart for
their home in another direction. But no persuasion could
induce Len and his family, or Lucifer and his wife, to leave
their lifetime home for a dwelling-place in a strange land.

Both Marie and Kate desired much that Nancy would con-
sent to go with them ; but, though the sullen old creature had
of late become much subdued, though she had seemed indeed
to have formed some sort of attachment for those who treated
her so kindly, yet she would not listen to the proposal that
she should leave the barren sands of North Banks, upon
which the seventy years of her life had been spent,—dark and
sin-stained though those years had been.

Pierre had no difficulty in finding the box of gold coin
that he had buried in the thicket on the morning after he had
landed in the ship's gig. After taking from it barely enough
to defray the expenses of himself and party to the nearest
seaport, he divided the remainder, amounting to nearly two
thousand dollars, among Len and Sol and Lucifer. He also
made arrangements with Lucifer and Comfort,—who_ were
hereafter to occupy the house that Stam was about to leave,—
that they should provide for the comfort and necessities of
Nancy so long as she should live.

Two as comfortable boats as could be got were engaged to
take the party up the sounds on the way to the port, and all
was in readiness for the departure on the following morning.

Though many weeks had passed since the party had come
to the coast, and though the hut of Stam Weathers was not
more than two miles to the northward of the inlet, yet not
once had old Basil stepped his foot on Body’s Island, not once
had he visited the scenes of his sad afllictions of twenty-nine

 

     

ara

 

 

SCATTERED BY THE TEMPEST. 433

years before. But now that he was on the eve of taking his
departure far away, he determined to visit those scenes for
the last time forever. Accompanied by Pierre and Stam and
Lucifer, the old man wended his way to the inlet, crossed to
the island, and then went in the direction of the old bulk that
had afforded shelter to himself and his little charge in the
days long ago. The scenes were still familiar to him. Still,
as of old, the yellow level was wreck-strewn, and all was bar-
Tenness and desolation still. Changes there were, it is true ;
for there were wrecks and scattered fragments that had never
before been seen, and many of the old hulks that were recog-
nized had been sadly marred and shattered by the pitiless
hand of time. There were the remains of his old dwelling-
place; the decks had disappeared ; a section of one side had
tumbled outward, and, in several places on the other side, the
bare ribs and bends were exposed to view.

The old man paused; his head was bowed, and tears stood
in his eyes,

“ Do you remember this place, Lucifer?” he asked,

“Remember it!” said Lucifer. “Right here is where I
was dodged waitin’ for the man to come out: there's where
Nancy and him was standin’ talkin’. I warn’t but a mighty
little spell cuttin’ that youngun loose and gittin’ off to Com-
fort with it. Out that way is the course I took, for Comfort
was waitin’ for it at the sound end of the inlet, in her skiff.
Comfort knowed how to paddle across in a hurry! Then she
knowed how to run up the sound-shore in a hurry till she got
to the boat with the youngun, too. She knowed well enough
where I had anchored the boat, with the sails all up, and the
rudder hung, and she knowed well enough that I'd be there
with her soon as I could clear myself of Nancy. About so is the
course that me and Nancy took with the things ; and ’way yon-
der,—you can see the top of it from here,—is the tree that we
sot down under ; and that’s where the ghost come clawin and
tearin’ down on Nancy’s head. But didn’t Nancy git mam-
mocked ! and didn’t I git to the boat where Comfort was waitin’,
and push off from that North Banks in a hurry! Remember,
eh? If I should live a thousan’ year I shouldn’t forgit | So
you was him? and you ain’t never been dead yet, as Socrates
would have us b’lieve? Well, I guess it’s so; but somehow
it don’t scem to me it’s that way yet.”

T 87

  

    

05

 
  

 

434 KATE WEATHERS; OR,

“ Ah, Lucifer,” said old Basil, “it was a cruel act to steal
that little child away !”

“Tt was so,” said Lucifer. “But then that’s all that kept
the youngun from gittin’ killed. And like it’s turned out, it
kept the man from the same thing. I’m right down glad now
that it was all did like it was. See what a proper gal Kate
growed up to be; and see how smooth everything has turned
round! Maybe so if you had kept on feedin’ that youngun
on cockles and nothin’ else she’d kotch the colic and died after
a spell; and then no tellin’ what would a-gone o’ you. But
just see now: here’s you and Kate, and here’s Stam (as good
a man as any gal ever got); and here’s the youngun that
Stam and Kate think so much of; and here’s everything ad-
zactly right. Yes, hanged if I ain't about glad it’s all like
it is !”

Old Basil smiled at the simple old man’s earnest manner of
expressing himself. Then the men made their way back by
the sea-beach until they got opposite the thicket, when they
crossed over and entered it by a path a little above Stam’s
house.

“You said you wanted to see the place where the two
babies is buried before goin’ off,” said Stam, addressing old
Basil, “and this path leads to it. Kate and Fawn has been
goin’ there about every day lately: they’ve rounded up the
sand on the graves, and has gone about diggin’ up green grass
wherever they could find any, and carryin’ it and settin’ it
out on the two little ridges, till they’re green all over now.
I seed ’em yisterday when I went there with Kate, and I was
glad it was did; for it seems now that them little ones ain’t
to be forgot, even though we should be goin’ clean away where
we shan’t never see the place where they are layin’ no more.
Yonder’s the place. You can glimpse it through the bushes
from here.”

* Wait!” said Pierre. “ Persons are already there !”

“Sure as I live,” said Stam, “there’s Kate and Fawn,
with mammy betwixt ‘em, all kneelin’ in a row by the
graves |”

Fawn was uttering a simple prayer, asking the Heavenly
Father's guidance and protection. She ceased to speak,
Kate ceased her sobbing at last, and was heard to say, ‘ Oh,
God! it’s the last time that I shall be here; but I’m willin’

  

      
    
    
     
      
 
    
   
    
     
    
    
     
     
   
   
   
   
   
   
   
    
      
      
     
   
    
    
 

 

SCATTERED BY THE TEMPEST. 435

to go; for I know I shall see my babies and Dear Mamma too +
and then these graves will be clean forgot!”

Nancy turned her tearless eyes toward Kate, after she had
ceased to speak, and gazed in silence there for some moments ;
then she asked, “ Think God cares for me, Kate ?”

“Yes, mammy,” she answered, “ He cares for us all.’

“Tell Him, Kate, I wants to talk to Him too; but I’m
afeerd to do it. Maybe He'll listen if you talks for me.”

A few words were said in a low voice; then the three arose
and passed away toward the hut. The men soon followed,
and it was not long before they had all assembled again in
Stam’s hut.

Kate and Fawn were now busily engaged packing away the
precious child’s-clothing in the old trunk from whence it had
been taken, while Pierre and old Basil sat on the chest near
the door and looked silently on. An expression of surprise
was upon the face of Pierre. He had observed on several of
the pieces of clothing as they were smoothed away the word
“ Adele.” ‘

“T have been wondering, Kate,” he said, “ at seeing Adele
upon the clothing that you are placing in the trunk; have
you relative or friend by that name ?” :

“Tt is my own name,” she answered, smiling; “all these
pretty things was mine when [ was a baby; they come ashore
in this trunk from the wreck.”

Pierre started to his feet. ‘ What wreck?” he asked.

“He knows,” said Kate, pointing to old Basil; “all was
drownded but two!”

“Yes, they were hers,” said old Basil. “ Herself and one
other were saved.”

“ Herself and one other!”

“Ay; and that other was myself. It has been a long
time since that wreck came to Body’s Island,—twenty-nine
years !”

“Twenty-nine years? For God’s sake, speak on! Father,
mother, sister; these were all wrecked—all lost! These, and
a dear friend of the kind parents, were lost then. It was
twenty-nine years ago!”

Old Basil went and took the little tin box from the trunk
and opened it. “The kindest friends that heaven ever vouch-
safed to me,” he said, “were lost with that ship. I saw

 
    

436 KATE WEATHERS; OR,

them die in the dark waters! See; these are their pic-
tures |”

“Great God!” Pierre exclaimed, as he snatched the pic-
tures from old Basil’s hand. “ My father and mother !”

“ And, Pierre,” said the old man, “she that stands at
your side, looking upon them, is your sister !”

“ Adele!” said Pierre, as he pressed the sobbing woman to
his bosom, “ Adele !”

“Oh,” sobbed Kate, “I thought I must love you! I don’t
know why, but I thought I must love you! I was so sorry
for you before you found your lost ones; and oh, I’ve been
so glad,—so glad ever since !”

Lucifer cried right out,—Lucifer Grindle, that had not done
such a thing before for fifty odd years: cried, loud enough,
too, for every one present to hear him. “ Hanged if I ain’t
right down glad now,” he sobbed, addressing himself to old
Basil, “that I did knock you down and run off with the
youngun,—that I is!”

Comfort ran out-of-doors and had her cry all to herself’;
after which she came back, smiling happily, though her eyes
were as red as ferret’s. ‘ Why, Lucifer Grindle!” she said,
as soon as she stepped into the door, “ you’ve been cryin’ like
a youngun! I heerd you, and I sees signs of it in your eyes

et!”
ca Me!” said Lucifer; “that’s nothing but a way I’ve got 0’
doin’, Comfort. I warn’t cryin’ ; you know I’m too old for
that !””

“ And my dear parents were friends of yours ?” said Pierre,
addressing old Basil.

“ Ay; Paul de l’Auzanne was as near to my heart as a
brother could be! Pierre, I am Jule d’Arcourt.”

* * * * * * *

The morning for the departure came. ‘The two little boats
that had been engaged to take the party away were riding at
anchor in the shallow waters near the landing. Their white
mainsails and jibs were spread to the breeze; and they were
swinging restlessly about as if impatient of delay. Pierre
and his family, and Lucien and his father, and Frangois, were
seated in one of the boats, and Stam and Kate, and Gilsey
with the baby, and old Basil and Timon and Fawn were in
the other. They had all bade kind adieus to those who were

 

 

 

SCATTERED BY THE TEMPEST.

standing silently on the sandy shore,—to L

and Len and Betsy and is pany
king upon those whom they § 1

B68 ite vt of each boat stood a man holding pea —_

in his hand, and only waiting for the command 0 pare

the tiller to haul aboard the anchor; that done, ani

less little boats would away before the light breeze. my

Old Basil, who for some minutes had been sitting

peas, pye t.
head bowed, and his face buried in his hands, now sat erec

have been tripped.
A moment more and the anchors would : - page 8:

«“ Wait!” he said, in a tremulous voice,

—and sadly were
never again see |

i Il these shall hear. Tt must
say: a word that I desire that a ; Mt sicaes
be said before we part; but the detention will a7 hore

Ah! had this old heart that so throbs now _ spe
than it is, it would not have waited until ea p
the sorrowful word ; but it could not speak before.

« On the morning after that dreary might Wn ty an
stole away your babies, Kate, I found two tiny infants in a

old skiff that had drifted far up the broad sti I = roo
to my wilderness home. There they dwelt wit rea fee
teen years; and dearer have they been to me t pnt e sre
Oh, I had ‘hoped in my selfish heart that they wou gree
to be mine—only mine—to the end! They are agi gr
mine! Precious Fawn and Timon! She that a 2
tween you, upon whom your dear heads are alrea Pres e
she is your mother! Kate, they are your long-lost chi

God gives them back into the loving mother’s bosom.

THE END.
 

 

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‘sli

 

|