THE RUDDER GRANGERS ABROAD AND OTHER STORIES

BY

FRANK R. STOCKTON

1891, 1894

CONTENTS. 

 I. EUPHEMIA AMONG THE PELICANS II. THE RUDDER GRANGERS IN ENGLANDIII. POMONA'S DAUGHTER IV. DERELICT V. THE BAKER OF BARNBURY VI. THE WATER-DEVIL

EUPHEMIA AMONG THE PELICANS. 

The sun shone warm and soft, as it shines in winter time in thesemi-tropics. The wind blew strong, as it blows whenever and whereverit listeth. Seven pelicans labored slowly through the air. A flock ofducks rose from the surface of the river. A school of mullet, disturbedby a shark, or some other unscrupulous pursuer, sprang suddenly out ofthe water just before us, and fell into it again like the splashing ofa sudden shower. 

I lay upon the roof of the cabin of a little yacht. Euphemia stoodbelow, her feet upon the mess-chest, and her elbows resting on the edgeof the cabin roof. A sudden squall would have unshipped her; still, ifone would be happy, there are risks that must be assumed. At the openentrance of the cabin, busily writing on a hanging-shelf that served asa table, sat a Paying Teller. On the high box which during most of theday covered our stove was a little lady, writing in a note-book. On theforward deck, at the foot of the mast, sat a young man in a state ofplacidness. His feet stuck out on the bowsprit, while his mildlycontemplative eyes went forth unto the roundabout. 

At the tiller stood our guide and boatman, his sombre eye steady on thesouth-by-east. Around the horizon of his countenance there spread adark and six-days' beard, like a slowly rising thunder-cloud; ever andanon there was a gleam of white teeth, like a bright break in the sky, but it meant nothing. During all our trip, the sun never shone in thatface. It never stormed, but it was always cloudy. But he was the bestboatman on those waters, and when he stood at the helm we knew wesailed secure. We wanted a man familiar with storms and squalls, and ifthis familiarity had developed into facial sympathy, it mattered not. We could attend to our own sunshine. At his feet sat humbly his boy oftwelve, whom we called "the crew. " He was making fancy knots in a bitof rope. This and the occupation of growing up were the only labors inwhich he willingly engaged. 

Euphemia and I had left Rudder Grange, to spend a month or two inFlorida, and we were now on a little sloop-yacht on the bright watersof the Indian River. It must not be supposed that, because we had aPaying Teller with us, we had set up a floating bank. With this PayingTeller, from a distant State, we had made acquaintance on our firstentrance into Florida. He was travelling in what Euphemia called "agroup, " which consisted of his wife, --the little lady with thenote-book, --the contemplative young man on the forward deck, andhimself. 

This Paying Teller had worked so hard and so rapidly at his businessfor several years, and had paid out so much of his health and strength, that it was necessary for him to receive large deposits of theseessentials before he could go to work again. But the peculiar habits ofhis profession never left him. He was continually paying out something. If you presented a conversational check to him in the way of a remark, he would, figuratively speaking, immediately jump to his little windowand proceed to cash it, sometimes astonishing you by the amount ofsmall change he would spread out before you. 

When he heard of our intention to cruise on Indian River he wished tojoin his group to our party, and as he was a good fellow we were gladto have him do so. His wife had been, or was still, a schoolteacher. Her bright and cheerful face glistened with information. 

The contemplative young man was a distant connection of the Teller, andhis first name being Quincy, was commonly called Quee. If he had wantedto know any of the many things the little teacher wished to tell hewould have been a happy youth; but his contemplation seldomcrystallized into a knowledge of what he did want to know. 

"And how can I, " she once said to Euphemia and myself, "be expectedever to offer him any light when he can never bring himself to actuallyroll up a question?"

This was said while I was rolling a cigarette. 

The group was greatly given to writing in journals, and makingestimates. Euphemia and I did little of this, as it was our holiday, but it was often pleasant to see the work going on. The business inwhich the Paying Teller was now engaged was the writing of his journal, and his wife held a pencil in her kidded fingers and a littleblank-book on her knees. 

This was our first day upon the river. 

"Where are we?" asked Euphemia. "I know we are on the Indian River, butwhere is the Indian River?"

"It is here, " I said. 

"But where is here?" reiterated Euphemia. 

"There are only three places in the world, " said the teacher, lookingup from her book, --"here, there, and we don't know where. Every spot onearth is in one or the other of those three places. "

"As far as I am concerned, " said Euphemia, "the Indian River is in thelast place. "

"Then we must hasten to take it out, " said the teacher, and she divedinto the cabin, soon reappearing with a folding map of Florida. "Here, "she said, "do you see that wide river running along part of theAtlantic coast of the State, and extending down as far as JupiterInlet? That is Indian River, and we are on it. Its chiefcharacteristics are that it is not a river, but an arm of the sea, andthat it is full of fish. "

"It seems to me to be so full, " said I, "that there is not room forthem all--that is, if we are to judge by the way the mullet jump out. "

"I think, " said the teacher, making a spot with her pencil on the map, "that just now we are about here. "

"It is the first time, " said Euphemia, "that I ever looked upon anunknown region on the map, and felt I was there. "

Our plans for travel and living were very simple. We had providedourselves on starting with provisions for several weeks, and while onthe river we cooked and ate on board our little vessel. When we reachedJupiter Inlet we intended to go into camp. Every night we anchored nearthe shore. Euphemia and I occupied the cabin of the boat; a tent waspitched on shore for the Teller and his wife; there was another tentfor the captain and his boy, and this was shared by the contemplativeyoung man. 

Our second night on the river was tinged with incident. We had come toanchor near a small settlement, and our craft had been moored to a rudewharf. About the middle of the night a wind-storm arose, and Euphemiaand I were awakened by the bumping of the boat against the wharf-posts. Through the open end of the cabin I could see that the night was verydark, and I began to consider the question whether or not it would benecessary for me to get up, much preferring, however, that the windshould go down. Before I had made up my mind we heard a step on thecabin above us, and then a quick and hurried tramping. I put my headout of the little window by me, and cried--

"Who's there?"

The voice of the boatman replied out of the darkness:--

"She'll bump herself to pieces against this pier! I'm going to tow youout into the stream. " And so he cast us loose, and getting into thelittle boat which was fastened to our stern, and always followed us asa colt its mother, he towed us far out into the stream. There heanchored us, and rowed away. The bumps now ceased, but the wind stillblew violently, the waves ran high, and the yacht continually wobbledup and down, tugging and jerking at her anchor. Neither of us wasfrightened, but we could not sleep. 

"I know nothing can happen, " said Euphemia, "for he would not have leftus here if everything had not been all right, but one might as well tryto sleep in a corn-popper as in this bed. "

After a while the violent motion ceased, and there was nothing but agentle surging up and down. 

"I am so glad the wind has lulled, " said Euphemia, from the other sideof the centre-board partition which partially divided the cabin. 

Although I could still hear the wind blowing strongly outside, I toowas glad that its force had diminished so far that we felt no more theviolent jerking that had disturbed us, and I soon fell asleep. 

In the morning, when I awoke, I saw that the sun was shining brightly, and that a large sea-grape bush was hanging over our stern. I sprangout of bed, and found that we had run, stern foremost, upon a sandybeach. About forty feet away, upon the shore, stood two 'possums, gazing with white, triangular faces upon our stranded craft. Exceptthese, and some ducks swimming near us, with seven pelicans flyingalong on the other side of the river, there was no sign of life withinthe range of my sight. I was not long in understanding the situation. It had not been the lulling of the storm, but the parting of our cablewhich had caused the uneasy jerking of our little yacht to cease. Wehad been blown I knew not how far down the river, for the storm hadcome from the north, and had stranded I knew not where. Taking out mypocket-compass I found that we were on the eastern shore of the river, and that the wind had changed completely, and was now blowing, not verystrong, from the southeast. I made up my mind what must be done. Wewere probably far from the settlement and the rest of the party, and wemust go back. The wind was in our favor, and I knew I could sail theboat. I had never sailed a boat in my life, and was only too glad tohave the opportunity, untrammelled by any interference. 

I awoke Euphemia and told her what had happened. The two 'possums stoodupon the shore, and listened to our conversation. Euphemia was muchimpressed by the whole affair, and for a time said nothing. 

"We must sail her back, I suppose, " she remarked at length, "but do youknow how to start her?"

"The hardest thing to do is to get her off the beach, " I answered, "butI think I can do that. "

I rolled up my trousers, and with bare feet jumped out upon the sand. The two 'possums retired a little, but still watched my proceedings. After a great deal of pushing and twisting and lifting, I got the yachtafloat, and then went on board to set the sail. After much pulling andtugging, and making myself very warm, I hoisted the main-sail. I didnot trouble myself about the jib, one sail being enough for me to beginwith. As the wind was blowing in the direction in which we wished togo, I let the sail out until it stood nearly at right angles with thevessel, and was delighted to see that we immediately began to movethrough the water. I took the tiller, and steered gradually toward themiddle of the river. The wind blew steadily, and the yacht movedbravely on. I was as proud as a man drawn by a conquered lion, and ashappy as one who did not know that conquered lions may turn and rend. Sometimes the vessel rolled so much that the end of the boom skimmedthe surface of the water, and sometimes the sail gave a little jerk andflap, but I saw no necessity for changing our course, and kept our bowpointed steadily up the river. I was delighted that the direction ofthe wind enabled me to sail with what might be called a horizontaldeck. Of course, as the boatman afterward informed me, this was themost dangerous way I could steer, for if the sail should suddenly"jibe, " there would be no knowing what would happen. Euphemia sat nearme, perfectly placid and cheerful, and her absolute trust in me gaveme renewed confidence and pleasure. "There is one great comfort, " sheremarked, as she sat gazing into the water, --"if anything should happento the boat, we can get out and walk. "

There was force in this remark, for the Indian River in some of itswidest parts is very shallow, and we could now plainly see the bottom, a few feet below us. 

"Is that the reason you have seemed so trustful and content?" I asked. 

"That is the reason, " said Euphemia. On we went and on, the yachtseeming sometimes a little restive and impatient, and sometimes rollingmore than I could see any necessity for, but still it proceeded. Euphemia sat in the shadow of the cabin, serene and thoughtful, and I, holding the tiller steadily amidship, leaned back and gazed up into theclear blue sky. 

In the midst of my gazing there came a shock that knocked the tillerout of my hand. Euphemia sprang to her feet and screamed; there werescreams and shouts on the other side of the sail, which seemed to bewrapping itself about some object I could not see. In an instantanother mast beside our own appeared above the main-sail, and then aman with a red face jumped on the forward deck. With a quick, determined air, and without saying a word, or seeming to care for mypermission, he proceeded to lower our sail; then he stepped up on topof the cabin, and looking down at me, inquired what in thunder I wastrying to do. 

I made no answer, but looked steadily before me. Now that the sail wasdown, I could see what had happened. I had collided with a yacht whichwe had seen before. It was larger than ours, and contained agrandfather and a grandmother, a father and a mother, several aunts, and a great many children. They had started on the river the same dayas ourselves, but did not intend to take so extended a trip as ours wasto be. The whole party was now in the greatest confusion. I did notunderstand what they said, nor did I attend to it. I was endeavoring, for myself, to grasp the situation. Euphemia was calling to me from thecabin, into which she had retreated; the man was still talking to mefrom the cabin roof, and the people in the other boat were vociferatingand screaming; but I paid no attention to any one until I had satisfiedmyself that nothing serious had happened. I had not run into them headon, but had come up diagonally, and the side of our bow had struck theside of their stern. The collision, as I afterward learned, hadhappened in this wise: I had not seen the other boat because, lyingback as I had been, the sail concealed her from me, and they had notseen us because their boatman was in the forward part of their cabin, collecting materials for breakfast, and the tiller was left in chargeof one of the boys, who, like all the rest of his party who satoutside, had discreetly turned his back to the sun. 

The grandfather stood up in the stern. He wore a black silk hat, andcarried a heavy grape-vine cane. Unsteadily balancing himself on hislegs, and shaking his cane at me, he cried:--

"What is the meaning of this, sir? Are you trying to drown a wholefamily, sir?"

"If he'd run his bowsprit in among you, " said the boatman from thecabin roof, "he'd 'a' killed a lot of you before you'd been drowned. "

Euphemia screamed to me to come to her; the father was standing on hiscabin roof, shouting something to me; the women in the other boat wereviolently talking among themselves; some of the little children werecrying; the girls were hanging to the ladies, and all the boys wereclambering on board our boat. It was a time of great excitement, andsomething must be instantly said by me. My decision was quick. 

"Have you any tea?" I said, addressing the old gentleman. 

"Tea!" he roared. "What do you mean by that?"

"We have plenty of coffee on board, " I answered, "but some of our partycan't drink it. If you have any tea, I should like to borrow some. Ican send it to you when we reach a store. "

From every person of the other party came, as in a chorus, the oneword, "Tea?" And Euphemia put her pale face out of the cabin, and said, in a tone of wondering inquiry, "Tea?"

"Did you bang into us this way to borrow tea?" roared the oldgentleman. 

"I did not intend, of course, to strike you so hard, " I said, "and I amsorry I did so, but I should like to borrow some tea. "

Euphemia whispered to me:--

"We have tea. "

I looked at her, and she locked her lips. 

"Of course we can give you some tea, if you want some, " said thered-faced boatman, "but I never heerd of a thing like this since I wasfirst born, nor ever shall again, I hope. "

"I don't want you to give me any tea, " I said. "I shall certainlyreturn it, and a very little will do--just a handful. "

The two boats had not drifted apart, for the father, standing on thecabin roof, had held tightly to our rigging, and the boatman, stillmuttering, went on board his vessel to get the tea. He brought it, wrapped in a piece of a newspaper. 

"Here comes your man, " he said, pointing to a little boat which wasapproaching us. "We told him we'd look out for you, but we didn't thinkyou'd come smashing into us like this. "

In a few moments our boatman had pulled alongside, his face full of adark inquiry. He looked at me for authoritative information. 

"I came here, " I said to him, "after tea. "

"Before breakfast, I should say!" cried the old gentleman. And everyone of his party burst out laughing. 

Much was now said, chiefly by the party of the other part, but ourboatman paid little attention to any of it. The boys scrambled on boardtheir own vessel. We pushed apart, hoisted sail, and were soon speedingaway. 

"Good bye!" shouted the father, a genial man. "Let us know if you wantany more groceries, and we'll send them to you. "

For six days from our time of starting we sailed down the Indian River. Sometimes the banks were miles apart, and sometimes they were very neareach other; sometimes we would come upon a solitary house, or littlecluster of dwellings; and then there would be many, many miles ofwooded shore before another human habitation was to be seen. Inland, tothe west, stretched a vast expanse of lonely forest where panthers, bears, and wild-cats prowled. To the east lay a long strip of land, through whose tall palmettoes came the roar of the great ocean. Theblue sky sparkled over us every day; now and then we met a littlesolitary craft; countless water-fowl were scattered about on thesurface of the stream; a school of mullet was usually jumping into theair; an alligator might sometimes be seen steadily swimming across theriver, with only his nose and back exposed; and nearly always, eitherto the right or to the left, going north or going south, were sevenpelicans, slowly flopping through the air. 

A portion of the river, far southward, called "The Narrows, " presenteda very peculiar scene. The banks were scarcely fifty feet apart, andyet there were no banks. The river was shut in to the right by theinland shore, and to the left by a far-reaching island, and yet therewas no inland shore, nor any island to the left. On either side weregreat forests of mangrove trees, standing tiptoe on their myriaddown-dropping roots, each root midleg in the water. As far as we couldsee among the trees, there was no sign of ground of any kind--nothingbut a grotesque network of roots, on which the forest stood. In thisgreen-bordered avenue of water, which extended nine or ten miles, thethick foliage shut out the breeze, and our boatman was obliged to goahead in his little boat and tow us along. 

"There are Indians out West, " said Euphemia, as she sat gazing into themangroves, "who live on roots, but I don't believe they could live onthese. The pappooses would certainly fall through. "

At Jupiter Inlet, about a hundred and fifty miles from our point ofstarting, we went into camp, in which delightful condition we proposedto remain for a week or more. There was no trouble whatever in findinga suitable place for a camp. The spot selected was a point of landswept by cool breezes, with a palmetto forest in the rear of it. On twosides of the point stretched the clear waters of the river, while halfa mile to the east was Jupiter Inlet, on each side of which rolled andtumbled the surf of the Atlantic. About a mile away was JupiterLight-house, the only human habitation within twenty miles. We built apalmetto hut for a kitchen; we set up the tents in a permanent way; weconstructed a little pier for the yacht; we built a wash-stand, atable, and a bench. And then, considering that we had actually goneinto camp, we got out our fishing-lines. 

Fishing was to be the great work here. Near the Inlet, through whichthe waters of the ocean poured into and out of our river, on a long, sandy beach, we stood in line, two or three hours every day exceptSunday, and fished. Such fishing we had never imagined!--there were somany fishes, and they were so big. The Paying Teller had never fishedin his life before he came to Florida. He had tried at St. Augustine, with but little success. "If the sport had been to chuck fish into theriver, " he had said, "that would be more in my line of business; butgetting them out of it did not seem to suit me. " But here it was quitea different thing. It was a positive delight to him, he said, to beobliged so often to pay out his line. 

One day, when tired of struggling with gamy blue-fish and powerfulcavalios (if that is the way to spell it), I wound up my line, andlooked about to see what the others were doing. The Paying Teller stoodnear, on tiptoe, as usual, with his legs wide apart, his hat thrownback, his eyes flashing over the water, and his right arm stretched farout, ready for a jerk. Quee was farther along the beach. He had justlanded a fish, and was standing gazing meditatively upon it as it layupon the sand. The hook was still in its mouth, and every now and thenhe would give the line a little pull, as if to see if there really wasa connection between it and the fish. Then he would stand a littlelonger, and meditate a little more, still looking alternately at theline and the fish. Having made up his mind, at last, that the twothings must be separated, he kneeled down upon his flopping prize andproceeded meditatively to extract the hook. The teacher was strugglingat her line. Hand over hand she pulled it in. As it came nearer andnearer, her fish swam wildly from side to side, making the tightenedline fairly hiss as it swept through the water. But still she pulledand pulled, until, red and breathless, she landed her prize upon thesand. 

"Hurrah!" shouted the Paying Teller. "That's the biggest blue-fishyet!" But he did not come to take the fish from the hook. He wasmomentarily expecting a bite. 

Euphemia was not to be seen. This did not surprise me, as shefrequently gave up fishing long before the others, and went to strollupon the sea-beach, a few hundred yards away. She was fond of fishing, but it soon tired her. "If you want to know what it is like, " she wroteto a friend in the North, "just tie a long string around your boyCharlie, and try to haul him out of the back yard into the house. "

But Euphemia was not upon the sea-beach to-day. I walked a mile or soalong the sand, but did not find her. She had gone around the littlebluff to our shark-line. This was a long rope, like a clothes-line, with a short chain at the end and a great hook, which was baited with alarge piece of fish. It was thrown out every day, the land end tied toa stout stake driven into the sand, and the whole business given intothe charge of "the crew, " who was to report if a shark should bite. Butto-day the little rascal had wandered away, and Euphemia was managingthe line. 

"I thought I would try to catch a shark all by myself, " she said. "Iwonder if there's one on the hook now. Would you mind feeling theline?"

I laughed as I took the rope from her hand. 

"If you had a shark on the hook, my dear, " said I, "you would have nodoubt upon the subject. "

"It would be a splendid thing to catch the first one, " she said, "andthere must be lots of them in here, for we have seen their back fins sooften. "

I was about to answer this remark when I began to walk out into thewater. I did not at the time know exactly why I did this, but it seemedas if some one had taken me by the hand and was leading me into thedepths. But the water splashing above my ankles and a scream fromEuphemia made me drop the line, which immediately spun out to its fulllength, making the stake creak and move in the sand. 

"Goodness gracious!" cried Euphemia, her face pale as the beach. "Isn'tit horrible? We've got one!"

"Horrible!" I cried. "Didn't you want to get one?" and seizing the axe, which lay near by, I drove the stake deep down into the sand. "Now itwill hold him!" I cried. "He can't pull that out!"

"But how are we to pull him in?" exclaimed Euphemia. "This line is astight as a guitar-string. "

This was true. I took hold of the rope, but could make no impression onit. Suddenly it slackened in my hand. 

"Hurrah!" I cried, "we may have him yet! But we must play him. "

"Play him!" exclaimed Euphemia. "You can never play a huge creaturelike that. Let me go and call some of the others to help. "

"No, no!" I said. "Perhaps we can do it all by ourselves. Wind the linequickly around the top of the stake as I pull it in. "

Euphemia knelt down and rapidly wound several yards of the slack cordaround the stake. In a few moments it tightened again, jerking itselfout of my hand. 

"There, now!" said Euphemia. "He is off again! You can never haul himin, now. "

"Just wait, " I said. "When he finds that he cannot break away he rushestoward shore, trying to bite the line above the chain. Then I must haulit in and you must wind it up. If you and I and the shark continue toact in this way, perhaps, after a time, we may get him into shallowwater. But don't scream or shout. I don't want the others to knowanything about it. "

Sure enough, in a minute or two the line slackened again, when it wasrapidly drawn in and wound around the stake. 

"There he is!" exclaimed Euphemia. "I can see him just under the water, out there. "

The dark form of the shark, appearing at first like the shadow of alittle cloud, could be seen near the surface, about fifteen yards away. Then his back fin rose, his tail splashed violently for an instant, andhe disappeared. Again the line was loosened, and again the slack washauled in and wound up. This was repeated, I don't know how many times, when suddenly the shark in his desperation rushed into shallow waterand grounded himself. He would have floundered off in a few moments, however, had we not quickly tightened the line. Now we could see himplainly. He was eight or nine feet long and struggled violently, exciting Euphemia so much that it was only by clapping her hand overher mouth that she prevented herself from screaming. I would havepulled the shark farther in shore, but this was impossible, and it wasneedless to expect him to move himself into shallower water. So, quickly rolling up my trousers, I seized the axe and waded in towardthe floundering creature. 

"You needn't be afraid to go right up to him, " said Euphemia. "So longas he don't turn over on his back he can't bite you. "

I had heard this bit of natural history before, but, nevertheless, Iwent no nearer to the shark than was necessary in order to whack himover the head with the axe. This I did several times, with such effectthat he soon became a dead shark. 

When I came out triumphant, Euphemia seized me in her arms and kissedme. 

"This is perfectly splendid!" she said. "Who can show as big a fish asthis one? None of the others can ever crow over you again. "

"Until one of them catches a bigger shark, " I said. 

"Which none of them ever will, " said Euphemia, decidedly. "It isn't inthem. "

The boatman was now seen approaching in his boat to take the party backto camp, and the "crew, " having returned to his duty, was sent off in astate of absolute amazement to tell the others to come and look at ourprize. Our achievement certainly created a sensation. Even the boatmancould find no words to express his astonishment. He waded in andfastened a rope to the shark's tail, and then we all took hold andhauled the great fish ashore. 

"What is the good of it now you have got it?" asked Quee. 

"Glory is some good!" exclaimed Euphemia. 

"And I'm going to have you a belt made from a strip of its skin, " Isaid. 

This seemed to Euphemia a capital idea. She would be delighted to havesuch a trophy of our deed, and the boatman was set to work to cut asuitable strip from the fish. And this belt, having been properlytanned, lined, and fitted with buckles, is now one of her favoriteadornments, and cost, I am bound to add, about three times as much asany handsome leathern belt to be bought in the stores. 

Every day the Paying Teller, his wife, and Quee carefully set down intheir note-books the weight of fish each individual had caught, withall necessary details and specifications relating thereunto; every daywe wandered on the beach, or explored the tropical recesses of thepalmetto woods; every evening the boatman rowed over to the light-houseto have a bit of gossip, and to take thither the fish we did not need;every day the sun was soft and warm, and the sky was blue; and everymorning, going oceanward, and every evening, going landward, sevenpelicans flew slowly by our camp. 

My greatest desire at this time was to shoot a pelican, to have himproperly prepared, and to take him to Rudder Grange, where, suitablyset up, with his wings spread out, full seven feet from tip to tip, hewould be a grand trophy and reminder of these Indian River days. Thiswas the reason why, nearly every morning and every evening, I took ashot at these seven pelicans. But I never hit one of them. We had onlya shot-gun, and the pelicans flew at a precautionary distance; but, being such big birds, they always looked to me much nearer than theywere. Euphemia earnestly desired that I should have a pelican, andalthough she always wished I should hit one of these, she was alwaysglad when I did not. 

"Think how mournful it would be, " she said, "if they should take theiraccustomed flights, morning and evening, with one of their numbermissing. "

"Repeating Wordsworth's verses, I suppose, " remarked the littleteacher. 

I had been disappointed in the number of pelicans we had seen. I knewthat Florida was one of the homes of the pelican, and I had notexpected to see these birds merely in small detachments. But ourboatman assured me that on our return trip he would give me a chance ofseeing and shooting as many pelicans as I could desire. We wouldtouch at Pelican Island, which was inhabited entirely by these birds, and whence the parties of seven were evidently sent out. 

When we had had all the fishing we wanted, we broke up our camp, andstarted northward. We had all been very happy and contented during ourten days' sojourn in this delightful place; but when at last ourdeparture was determined upon, the Paying Teller became possessed witha wild desire to go, go, go. There was some reason, never explained norfully expressed, why no day, hour, minute, or second should be lost inspeeding to the far Northwest. The boatman, too, impelled by whatimpulse I know not, seemed equally anxious to get home. As for thePaying Teller's "group, " it always did exactly as he wished. Therefore, although Euphemia and I would have been glad to linger here and thereupon our homeward way, we could not gainsay the desire of the majorityof the party, and consequently we sailed northward as fast as wind andsometimes oars would take us. 

Only one cause for delay seemed tolerable to the Paying Teller. Thiswas to stop at every post-office. We had received but one mail while incamp, which had been brought in a sail-boat from an office twenty milesaway. But the Paying Teller had given and written the most intricateand complex directions for the retention or forwarding of his mail toevery postmaster in the country we had passed through, and thesedirections, as we afterward found, had so puzzled and unsettled theminds of these postmasters that for several weeks his letters had beenmoving like shuttlecocks up and down the St. John's and Indianrivers--never stopping anywhere, never being delivered, but crossingand recrossing each other as if they were imbued with their owner'sdesire to go, go, go. Some of the post-offices where we stopped werelonely little buildings with no other habitation near. These we usuallyfound shut up, being opened only on mail-days, and in such casesnothing could be done but to slip a protesting postal into the littleslit in the wall apparently intended for letters. Whether these postalswere eaten by rats or read by the P. M. 's, we never discovered. Whereveran office was found open, we left behind us an irate postmasterbreathing all sorts of contemplated vengeance upon the disturbers ofhis peace. We heard of letters that had been sent north and sent south, but there never were any at the particular place where we happened tobe, and I suppose that the accumulated mail of the Paying Teller mayfor several years drop gradually upon him through the meshes of theDead-Letter Office. 

There were a great many points of interest which we had passed on ourdownward trip, the boatman assuring us that, with the wind we had, andwhich might cease at any moment, the great object was to reach Jupiteras soon as possible, and that we would stop at the interesting placeson the way up. But now the wind, according to his reasoning, made itnecessary that we should again push forward as fast as we could; and, as I said before, the irresistible attraction of the Northwest soworked upon the Paying Teller that he was willing to pause nowhere, during the daytime, but at a post-office. At one place, however, I wasdetermined to land. This was Pelican Island. The boatman, paying noattention to his promise to stop here and give me an opportunity toshoot one of these birds, declared, when near the place, that it wouldnever do, with such a wind, to drop anchor for a trifle like a pelican. The Paying Teller and Quee also strongly objected to a stop; and, whilethe teacher had a great desire to investigate the subject ofornithology, especially when exemplified by such a subject as apelican, she felt herself obliged to be loyal to her "group, " and soquietly gave her voice to go on. But I, supported by Euphemia, remainedso firm that we anchored a short distance from Pelican Island. 

None of the others had any desire to go ashore, and so I, with the gunand Euphemia, took the boat and rowed to the island. While we were herethe others determined to sail to the opposite side of the river to lookfor a little post-office, the existence of which the boatman had notmentioned until it had been determined to make this stoppage here. 

As we approached the island we saw hundreds of pelicans, some flyingabout, some sitting on trunks and branches of dead trees, and somewaddling about on the shore. 

"You might as well shoot two of them, " said Euphemia, "and then wewill select the better one to take to Rudder Grange. "

The island was very boggy and muddy, and, before I had found a goodplace to land, and had taken up the gun from the bow of the boat, everypelican in sight took wing and flew away. I stood up and fired bothbarrels at the retreating flock. They swerved and flew oceanward, butnot one of them fell. I helped Euphemia on shore, and then, gun inhand, I made my way as well as I could to the other end of the island. There might be some deaf old fellows left who had not made up theirminds to fly. The ground was very muddy, and drift-wood and under-brushobstructed my way. Still, I pressed on, and went nearly half around theisland, finding, however, not a single pelican. 

Soon I heard Euphemia's voice, calling loud. She seemed to be about thecentre of the island, and I ran toward her. 

"I've got one!" I heard her cry, before I came in sight of her. She wassitting at the root of a crooked, dead tree. In front of her she held, one hand grasping each leg, what seemed to me to be an ungainly andwingless goose. All about her the ground was soft and boggy. Herclothes were muddy, her face was red, and the creature she held wasstruggling violently. 

"What on earth have you got?" I exclaimed, approaching as near as Icould, "and how did you get out there?"

"Don't you come any closer!" she cried. "You'll sink up to your waist!I got here by treading on the little hummocks and holding on to thatdead branch; but don't you take hold of it, for you'll break it off, and then I can't get back. "

"But what is that thing?" I repeated. 

"It's a young pelican, " she replied. "I found a lot of nests on theground over there, and this was in one of them. I chased it all about, until it flopped out here and hid itself on the other side of thistree. Then I came out quietly and caught it. But how am I going to getit to you?"

This seemed, indeed, a problem. Euphemia declared that she needed bothhands to work her way back by the means of the long, horizontal limbwhich had assisted her passage to the place where she sat, and she alsoneeded both hands to hold her prize. It was likewise plain that I couldnot get to her. Indeed, I could not see how her light steps had takenher over the soft and marshy ground that lay between us. I suggestedthat she should throw the pelican to me. This she declined to do. 

"I could never throw it so far, " she said, "and it would surely getaway. I don't want to lose this pelican, for I believe it is the lastone on the island. If there are other young ones, they have scuttledoff by this time, and I should dreadfully hate to go back to the yachtwithout any pelican at all. "

"I don't call that much of one, " I said. 

"It's a real pelican for all that, " she replied, "and about as curiousa bird as I ever saw. Its wings won't stretch out seven feet, to besure. "

"About seven inches, " I suggested. 

"But it is a great deal easier to carry a young one like this, " shepersisted, "and I expect a baby pelican is a much more uncommon sightin the North than a grown one. "

"No doubt of it, " I said. "We must keep him now you've got him. Can'tyou kill him?"

"I've no way of killing him, " returned Euphemia. "I wonder if you couldshoot him if I were to hold him out. "

This, with a shot-gun, I positively declined to do. Even if I had had arifle, I suggested that she might swerve. For a few moments we remainednonplussed. I could not get to Euphemia at all, and she could not getto me unless she released her bird, and this she was determined not todo. 

"Euphemia, " I said, presently, "the ground seems hard a little way infront of you. If you step over there, I will go out on this strip, which seems pretty solid. Then I'll be near enough to you for you toswing the bird to me, and I'll catch hold of him. "

Euphemia arose and did as I told her, and we soon found ourselves aboutsix feet apart. She took the bird by one leg and swung it toward me. With outstretched arm I caught it by the other foot, but as I did so Inoticed that Euphemia was growing shorter, and also felt myself sinkingin the bog. Instantly I entreated Euphemia to stand perfectly still, for, if we struggled or moved, there was no knowing into what moredreadful depths we might get. Euphemia obeyed me, and stood quitestill, but I could feel that she clutched the pelican with desperatevigor. 

"How much farther down do you think we shall sink?" she asked, hervoice trembling a little. 

"Not much farther, " I said. "I am sure there is firm ground beneath us, but it will not do to move. If we should fall down, we might not beable to get up again. "

"How glad I am, " she said, "that we are not entirely separated, even ifit is only a baby pelican that joins us!"

"Indeed, I am glad!" I said, giving the warm pressure to the pelican'sleg that I would have given to Euphemia's hand, if I could have reachedher. Euphemia looked up at me so confidently that I could but believethat in some magnetic way that pressure had been transmitted throughthe bird. 

"Do you think they will come back?" she said, directly. 

"Oh, yes, " I replied, "there's no manner of doubt of that. "

"They'll be dreadfully cross, " she said. 

"I shouldn't wonder, " I replied. "But it makes very little differenceto me whether they are or not. "

"It ought to make a difference to you, " said Euphemia. "They mightinjure us very much. "

"If they tried anything of the kind, " I replied, "they'd find it worsefor them than for us. "

"That is boasting, " said Euphemia, a little reproachfully, "and itdoes not sound like you. "

I made no answer to this, and then she asked:--

"What do you think they will do when they come?"

"I think they will put a plank out here and pull us out. "

Euphemia looked at me an instant, and then her eyes filled with tears. 

"Oh, dear!" she exclaimed, "it's dreadful! You know they couldn't doit. Your mind is giving way!"

She sobbed, and I could feel the tremor run through the pelican. 

"What do you mean?" I cried, anxiously. "My mind giving way?"

"Yes--yes, " she sobbed. "If you were in your right senses--you'd neverthink--that pelicans could bring a plank. "

I looked at her in astonishment. 

"Pelicans!" I exclaimed. "Did you think I meant the pelicans werecoming back?"

"Of course, " she said. "That's what I was asking you about. "

"I wasn't thinking of pelicans at all, " I answered "I was talking ofthe people in the yacht. "

Euphemia looked at me, and then the little pelican between us began toshake violently as we laughed. 

"I know people sometimes do lose their minds when they get into greatdanger, " she said, apologetically. 

"Hello!" came a voice from the water. "What are you laughing about?"

"Come and see, " I shouted back, "and perhaps you will laugh, too. "

The three men came; they had to wade ashore; and when they came theylaughed. They brought a plank, and with a good deal of trouble theydrew us out, but Euphemia would not let go of her leg of the littlepelican until she was sure I had a tight hold of mine. 

Day after day we now sailed northward, until we reached the little townat which we had embarked. Here we discarded our blue flannels and threehalf-grown beards, and slowly made our way through woods and lakes andtortuous streams to the upper waters of the St. John's. In this regionthe population of the river shores seemed to consist entirely ofalligators, in which monsters Euphemia was greatly interested. But sheseldom got a near view of one, for the sportsmen on our little steamerblazed away at every alligator as soon as it came into distant sight;and, although the ugly creatures were seldom hit, they made haste totumble into the water or disappear among the tall reeds. Euphemia wasvery much annoyed at this. 

"I shall never get a good close look at an alligator at all, " she said. "I am going to speak to the captain. "

The captain, a big, good-natured man, listened to her, and entirelysympathized with her. 

"Tom, " said he to the pilot, "when you see another big 'gator on shore, don't sing out to nobody, but call me, and slow up. "

It was not long before chocolate-colored Tom called to the captain, andrang the bell to lessen speed. 

"Gentlemen, " said the captain, walking forward to the group ofsportsmen, "there's a big 'gator ahead there, but don't none of youfire at him. He's copyrighted. "

The men with the guns did not understand him, but none of them fired, and Euphemia and the other ladies soon had the satisfaction of seeingan enormous alligator lying on the bank, within a dozen yards of theboat. The great creature raised its head, and looked at us in apparentamazement at not being shot at. Then, probably considering that we didnot know the customs of the river, or were out of ammunition, he slowlyslipped away among the reeds with an air as if, like Mr. Turveydrop, hehad done his duty in showing himself, and if we did not take advantageof it, it was no affair of his. 

"If we only had a fellow like that for a trophy!" ejaculated Euphemia. 

"He'd do very well for a trophy, " I answered, "but if, in order to gethim, I had to hold him by one leg while you held him by another, Ishould prefer a baby pelican. "

Our trip down the St. John's met with no obstacles except thoseoccasioned by the Paying Teller's return tickets. He had providedhimself and his group with all sorts of return tickets from the variouspoints he had expected to visit in Florida. These were good only onparticular steamboats, and could be used only to go from one particularpoint to another. Fortunately he had lost several of them, but therewere enough left to give us a good deal of trouble. We did not wish tobreak up the party, and consequently we embarked and disembarkedwhenever the Paying Teller's group did so; and thus, in time, we allreached that widespread and sandy city which serves for the gate ofFlorida. 

From here, the Paying Teller and his group, with complicated tickets, the determinate scope and purpose of which no one man living could beexpected to understand, hurried wildly toward the far Northwest; whilewe, in slower fashion, returned to Rudder Grange. 

There, in a place of honor over the dining-room door, stands the babypelican, its little flippers wide outstretched. 

"How often I think, " Euphemia sometimes says, "of that moment of peril, when the only actual bond of union between us was that little pelican!"

THE RUDDER GRANGERS IN ENGLAND. 

It was mainly due to Pomona that we went to Europe at all. For yearsEuphemia and I had been anxious to visit the enchanted lands on theother side of the Atlantic, but the obstacles had always been verygreat, and the matter had been indefinitely postponed. Pomona and Jonaswere still living with us, and their little girl was about two yearsold. Pomona continued to read a great deal, but her husband's influencehad diverted her mind toward works of history and travel, and these shedevoured with eager interest. But she had not given up her old fancyfor romance. Nearly everything she read was mingled in her mind withMiddle Age legends and tales of strange adventure. Euphemia's frequentreference to a trip to Europe had fired Pomona's mind, and she was nowmore wildly anxious for the journey than any of us. She believed thatit would entirely free Jonas from the chills and fever that stillseemed to permeate his being. And besides this, what unutterable joy totread the sounding pavements of those old castles of which she had sooften read! Pomona further perceived that my mental and physicalsystems required the rest and change of scene which could be given onlyby a trip to Europe. When this impression had been produced uponEuphemia's mind, the matter, to all intents and purposes, was settled. A tenant, who I suspect was discovered and urged forward by theindefatigable Pomona, made an application for a year's lease of ourhouse and farm. In a business view I found I could make the journeyprofitable, and there seemed to be no reason why we should not go, andgo now. 

It appeared to be accepted as a foregone conclusion by Euphemia andPomona that the latter, with her husband and child, should accompanyus; but of this I could not, at first, see the propriety. 

"We shall not want servants on a trip like that, " I said; "and althoughI like Jonas and Pomona very much, they are not exactly the people Ishould prefer as travelling companions. "

"If you think you are going to leave Pomona behind, " said Euphemia, "you are vastly mistaken. Oceans and continents are free to her, andshe will follow us at a distance if we don't let her go with us. Shewas quite content not to go with us to Florida, but she is just onetingle from head to foot to go to Europe. We have talked the wholething over, and I know that she will be of the greatest possible useand comfort to me in ever so many ways; and Jonas will be needed totake care of the baby. Jonas has money, and they will pay a great partof their own expenses, and will not cost us much, and you needn't beafraid that Pomona will make us ashamed of ourselves, if we happen tobe talking to the Dean of Westminster or the Archbishop of Canterbury, by pushing herself into the conversation. "

"Indeed, " said I, "if we ever happen to be inveigled into a confab withthose dignitaries, I hope Pomona will come to the front and take myplace. "

The only person not entirely satisfied with the proposed journey wasJonas. 

"I don't like trapsin' round, " said he, "from place to place, and neverdid. If I could go to some one spot and stay there with the child, while the rest of you made trips, I'd be satisfied, but I don't likekeepin' on the steady go. "

This plan was duly considered, and the suitability of certain pointswas discussed. London was not believed sufficiently accessible forfrequent return trips; Paris could scarcely be called very central;Naples would not be suitable at all times of the year, and Cairo was alittle too far eastward. A number of minor places were suggested, butJonas announced that he had thought of a capital location, and beingeagerly asked to name it, he mentioned Newark, New Jersey. 

"I'd feel at home there, " he said, "and it's about as central as anyplace, when you come to look on the map of the world. "

But he was not allowed to remain in his beloved New Jersey, and we tookhim with us to Europe. 

We did not, like the rest of the passengers on the steamer, go directlyfrom Liverpool to London, but stopped for a couple of days in thequaint old town of Chester. "If we don't see it now, " said Euphemia, "we never shall see it. When we once start back we shall be ravingdistracted to get home, and I wouldn't miss Chester for anything. "

"There is an old wall there, " said the enthusiastic Pomona to herhusband, "built by Julius Caesar before the Romans became Catholics, that you kin walk on all round the town; an' a tower on it which theking of England stood on to see his army defeated, though of course itwasn't put up for that purpose; besides, more old-timenesses which thebook tells of than we can see in a week. "

"I hope, " said Jonas, wearily shifting the child from one arm to theother, "that there'll be some good place there to sit down. "

When we reached Chester, we went directly to the inn called "The GentleBoar, " which was selected by Euphemia entirely on account of its name, and we found it truly a quaint and cosey little house. Everything wasearly English and delightful. The coffee-rooms, the bar-maids, thefunny little apartments, the old furniture, and "a general air of theElizabethan era, " as Euphemia remarked. 

"I should almost call it Henryan, " said Pomona, gazing about her inrapt wonderment. 

We soon set out on our expeditions of sight-seeing, but we did not keeptogether. Euphemia and I made our way to the old cathedral. The ancientverger who took us about the edifice was obliged to show us everything, Euphemia being especially anxious to see the stall in the choir whichhad belonged to Charles Kingsley, and was much disturbed to find thatunder the seat the monks of the fifteenth century had carved thesubject of one of Baron Munchausen's most improbable tales. 

"Of course, " said she, "they did not know that Charles Kingsley was tohave this stall, or they would have cut something more appropriate. "

"Those old monks 'ad a good deal of fun in them, " said the verger, "hand they were particular fond of showing up quarrels between men andtheir wives, which they could do, you see, without 'urting each other'sfeelings. These queer carvings are hunder the seats, which turn hup inthis way, and I've no doubt they looked at them most of the time theywere kneeling on the cold floor saying their long, Latin prayers. "

"Yes, indeed!" said Euphemia. "It must have been a great comfort to thepoor fellows. "

"We went all through that cathedral, " exclaimed Pomona, when she camein the next day. "The old virgin took us everywhere. "

"Verger, " exclaimed Euphemia. 

"Well, he looked so like a woman in his long gown, " said Pomona, "Idon't wonder I mixed him. We put two shillin's in his little box, though one was enough, as I told Jonas, and then he took us round andpointed out all the beautiful carvin's and things on the choir, thetransits, and the nave, but when Jonas stopped before the carved figgerof the devil chawin' up a sinner, and asked if that was the transit ofa knave, the old feller didn't know what he meant. An' then we wanderedalone through them ruined cloisters and subterraneal halls, an' oldtombstones of the past, till I felt I don't know how. There was a girlin New Jersey who used to put on airs because her family had lived inone place for a hundred years. When I git back I'll laugh that girl toscorn. "

After two days of delight in this quaint old town we took the trainLondonward. Without consultation Jonas bought tickets for himself andwife, while I bought Euphemia's and mine. Consequently our servantstravelled first-class, while we went in a second-class carriage. Wewere all greatly charmed with the beautiful garden country throughwhich we passed. It was harvest time, and Jonas was much impressed bythe large crops gathered from the little fields. 

"I might try to do something of that kind when I go back, " he afterwardsaid, "but I expect I'd have to dig a little hole for each grain ofwheat, and hoe it, and water it, and tie the blade to a stick if it wasweakly. "

"An' a nice easy time you'd have of it, " said Pomona; "for you mightplant your wheat field round a stump, and set there, and farm allsummer, without once gettin' up. "

"And that is Windsor!" exclaimed Euphemia, as we passed within view ofthat royal castle. "And there lives the Sovereign of our MotherCountry!"

I was trying to puzzle out in what relationship to the Sovereign thisplaced us, when Euphemia continued:--

"I am bound to go to Windsor Castle! I have examined into every styleof housekeeping, French flats and everything, and I must see how theQueen lives. I expect to get ever so many ideas. "

"All right, " said I; "and we will visit the royal stables, too, for Iintend to get a new buggy when we get back. "

We determined that on reaching London we would go directly to lodgings, not only because this was a more economical way of living, but becauseit was the way in which many of Euphemia's favorite heroes and heroineshad lived in London. 

"I want to keep house, " she said, "in the same way that Charles andMary Lamb did. We will toast a bit of muffin or a potted sprat, andwe'll have a hamper of cheese and a tankard of ale, just like those oldEnglish poets and writers. "

"I think you are wrong about the hamper of cheese, " I said. "Itcouldn't have been as much as that, but I have no doubt we'll have ajolly time. "

We got into a four-wheeled cab, Jonas on the seat with the driver, andthe luggage on top. I gave the man a card with the address of the houseto which we had been recommended. There was a number, the name of astreet, the name of a place, the name of a square, and initialsdenoting the quarter of the town. 

"It will confuse the poor man dreadfully, " said Euphemia. "It wouldhave been a great deal better just to have said where the house was. "

The man, however, drove to the given address without mistake. The housewas small, but as there were no other lodgers, there was room enoughfor us. Euphemia was much pleased with the establishment. The house wasvery well furnished, and she had expected to find things old andstuffy, as London lodgings always were in the books she had read. 

"But if the landlady will only steal our tea, " she said, "it will makeit seem more like the real thing. "

As we intended to stay some time in London, where I had business totransact for the firm with which I was engaged, we immediately began tomake ourselves as much at home as possible. Pomona, assisted by Jonas, undertook at once the work of the house. To this the landlady, who kepta small servant, somewhat objected, as it had been her custom to attendto the wants of her lodgers. 

"But what's the good of Jonas an' me bein' here, " said Pomona to us, "if we don't do the work? Of course, if there was other lodgers, thatwould be different, but as there's only our own family, where's thegood of that woman and her girl doin' anything?"

And so, as a sort of excuse for her being in Europe, she began to getthe table ready for supper, and sent Jonas out to see if there was anyplace where he could buy provisions. Euphemia and I were not at allcertain that the good woman of the house would be satisfied with thisstate of things; but still, as Jonas and Pomona were really ourservants, it seemed quite proper that they should do our work. And sowe did not interfere, although Euphemia found it quite sad, she said, to see the landlady standing idly about, gazing solemnly upon Pomonaas she dashed from place to place engaged with her household duties. 

After we had been in the house for two or three days, Pomona came intoour sitting-room one evening and made a short speech. 

"I've settled matters with the woman here, " she said, "an' I thinkyou'll like the way I've done it. I couldn't stand her follerin' meabout, an' sayin' 'ow they did things in Hingland, while her red-facedgirl was a-spendin' the days on the airy steps, a-lookin' through therailin's. 'Now, Mrs. Bowlin', ' says I, 'it'll just be the ruin of youan' the death of me if you keep on makin' a picter of yourself likethat lonely Indian a-sittin' on a pinnacle in the jographys, watchin'the inroads of civilization, with a locomotive an' a cog-wheel infront, an' the buffalo an' the grisly a-disappearin' in the distance. Now it'll be much better for all of us, ' says I, 'if you'll git downfrom your peak, and try to make up your mind that the world has got tomove. Aint there some place where you kin go an' be quiet an'comfortable, an' not a-woundin' your proud spirit a-watchin' me bakehot rolls for breakfast an' sich?' An' then she says she'd begun tothink pretty much that way herself, an' that she had a sister a-livin'down in the Sussex Mews, back of Gresham Terrace, Camberwell Square, Hankberry Place, N. W. By N. , an' she thought she might as well go therean' stay while we was here. An' so I says that was just the thing, andthe sooner done the happier she'd be. An' I went up stairs and helpedher pack her trunk, which is a tin one, which she calls her box, an' Igot her a cab, an' she's gone. "

"What!" I cried; "gone! Has she given up her house entirely to us?"

"For the time bein' she has, " answered Pomona, "for she saw very wellit was better thus, an' she's comin' every week to git her money, an'to see when we're goin' to give notice. An' the small girl has beensent back to the country. "

It was impossible for Euphemia and myself to countenance thisoutrageous piece of eviction; but in answer to our exclamations ofsurprise and reproach, Pomona merely remarked that she had done it forthe woman's own good, and, as she was perfectly satisfied, she didn'tsuppose there was any harm done; and, at any rate, it would be "lotsnicer" for us. And then she asked Euphemia what she was going to havefor breakfast the next morning, so that Jonas could go out to thedifferent mongers and get the things. 

"Now, " said Euphemia, when Pomona had gone down stairs, "I really feelas if I had a foothold on British soil. It doesn't seem as if it wasquite right, but it is perfectly splendid. "

And so it was. From that moment we set up an English Rudder Grange inthe establishment which Pomona had thus rudely wrenched, as it were, from the claws of the British Lion. We endeavored to live as far aspossible in the English style, because we wanted to try the manners andcustoms of every country. We had tea for breakfast and ale forluncheon, and we ate shrimps, prawns, sprats, saveloys, and Yarmouthbloaters. We "took in the Times, " and, to a certain extent, weendeavored to cultivate the broad vowels. Some of these things we didnot like, but we felt bound to allow them a fair trial. 

We did not give ourselves up to sight-seeing as we had done at Chester, because now there was plenty of time to see London at our leisure. Inthe mornings I attended to my business, and in the afternoons Euphemiaand I generally went out to visit some of the lions of the grand oldcity. 

Pomona and Jonas also went out whenever a time could be convenientlyarranged, which was done nearly every day, for Euphemia was anxiousthey should see everything. They almost always took their child, and tothis Euphemia frequently objected. 

"What's the good, " she said, "of carrying a baby not two years old tothe Tower of London, the British Museum, and the Chapel of Henry VII. ?She can't take any interest in the smothered princes, or the Assyrianremnants. If I am at home, I can look after her as well as not. "

"But you see, ma'am, " said Pomona, "we don't expect the baby'll evercome over here ag'in, an' when she gits older, I'll tell her all aboutthese things, an' it'll expan' her intelleck a lot more when she feelsshe's seed 'em all without knowin' it. To be sure, the monnyments ofbygone days don't always agree with her; for Jone set her down on thetomb of Chaucer the other day, an' her little legs got as cold as thetomb itself, an' I told him that there was too big a difference betweena tomb nigh four hundred years old an' a small baby which don't dateback two years, for them to be sot together that way; an' he promisedto be more careful after that. He gouged a little piece out ofChaucer's tomb, an' as we went home we bought a copy of the oldgentleman's poems, so as we could see what reason there was for keepin'him so long, an' at night I read Jone two of the Canterbury Tales. 'Youwouldn't 'a' thought, ' says Jone, 'jus' by lookin' at that little pieceof plaster, that the old fellow could 'a' got up such stories asthem. '"

"What I want to see more'n anything else, " said Pomona to us one day, "is a real lord, or some kind of nobleman of high degree. I've allersloved to read about 'em in books, and I'd rather see one close to, thanall the tombs and crypts and lofty domes you could rake together; an' Idon't want to see 'em neither in the streets, nor yet in a House ofParliament, which aint in session; for there, I don't believe, dressin'in common clothes as they do, that I could tell 'em from other people. What I want is to penetrate into the home of one of 'em, and see him ashe really is. It's only there that his noble blood'll come out. "

"Pomona, " cried Euphemia, in accents of alarm, "don't you trypenetrating into any nobleman's home. You will get yourself intotrouble, and the rest of us, too. "

"Oh, I'm not a-goin' to git you into any trouble, ma'am, " said Pomona;"you needn't be afeard of that. " And she went about her householdduties. 

A few days after this, as Euphemia and I were going to the Tower ofLondon in a Hansom cab--and it was one of Euphemia's greatest delightsto be bowled over the smooth London pavements in one of these vehicles, with the driver out of sight, and the horse in front of us just as ifwe were driving ourselves, only without any of the trouble, and onevery corner one of the names of the streets we had read about inDickens and Thackeray, and with the Sampson Brasses, and thePecksniffs, and the Mrs. Gamps, and the Guppys, and the Sir LeicesterDedlocks, and the Becky Sharps, and the Pendennises, all walking aboutjust as natural as in the novels--we were surprised to see Pomonahurrying along the sidewalk alone. The moment our eyes fell upon her afeeling of alarm arose within us. Where was she going with such anintent purpose in her face, and without Jonas? She was walkingwestward, and we were going to the east. At Euphemia's request Istopped the cab, jumped out, and ran after her, but she had disappearedin the crowd. 

"She is up to mischief, " said Euphemia. 

But it was of no use to worry our minds on the subject, and we soonforgot, in the ancient wonders of the Tower, the probableeccentricities of our modern handmaid. 

We returned; night came on; but Pomona was still absent. Jonas did notknow where she was, and was very much troubled; and the baby, which hadbeen so skilfully kept in the background by its mother that, so far, ithad never annoyed us at all, now began to cry, and would not becomforted. Euphemia, with the assistance of Jonas, prepared the eveningmeal, and when we had nearly eaten it, Pomona came home. Euphemia askedno questions, although she was burning with curiosity to know wherePomona had been, considering that it was that young woman's duty toinform her without being asked. 

When Pomona came in to wait on us, she acted as if she expected to bequestioned, and was perfectly willing to answer, but Euphemia stoodupon her dignity, and said nothing. At last Pomona could endure it nolonger, and standing with a tray in her hand, she exclaimed:--

"I'm sorry I made you help git the dinner, ma'am, and I wouldn't 'a'done it for anything, but the fact is I've been to see a lord, an' waskep' late. "

"What!" cried Euphemia, springing to her feet; "you don't mean that!"

And I was so amazed that I sat and looked at Pomona without saying aword. 

"Yes, " cried Pomona, her eyes sparkling with excitement, "I've seen alord, and trod his floors, and I'll tell you all about it. You know Iwas boun' to do it, and I wanted to go alone, for if Jone was with mehe'd be sure to put in some of his queer sayin's an' ten to one hurtthe man's feelin's, and cut off the interview. An' as Jone said thisafternoon he felt tired, with some small creeps in his back, an' didn'tcare to go out, I knew my time had come, and said I'd go for a walk. Day before yesterday I went up to a policeman an' I asked him if hecould tell me if a lord, or a earl, or a duke lived anywhere near here. First he took me for crazy, an' then he began to ask questions which hethought was funny, but I kep' stiff to the mark, an' I made him tell mewhere a lord did live, --about five blocks from here. So I fixed thingsall ready an' today I went there. "

"You didn't have the assurance to suppose he'd see you?" criedEuphemia. 

"No, indeed, I hadn't, " said Pomona, "at least under commoncircumstances. You may be sure I racked my brains enough to know what Ishould do to meet him face to face. It wouldn't do to go in the commonway, such as ringin' at the front door and askin' for him, an' thenofferin' to sell him furniter-polish for his pianner-legs. I knowedwell enough that any errand like that would only bring me face to facewith his bailiff, or his master of hounds, or something of that kind. So, at last, I got a plan of my own, an' I goes up the steps and ringsthe bell, an' when the flunkey, with more of an air of gen'ralupliftedness about him than any one I'd seen yet, excep' Nelson on topof his pillar, opened the door an' looked at me, I asked him, --

"'Is Earl Cobden in?'

"At this the man opened his eyes, an' remarked:--

"'What uv it if he is?'

"Then I answers, firmly:--

"'If he's in, I want yer to take him this letter, an' I'll wait here. '"

"You don't mean to say, " cried Euphemia, "that you wrote the earl aletter?"

"Yes, I did, " continued Pomona, "and at first the man didn't seeminclined to take it. But I held it out so steady that he took it an'put it on a little tray, whether nickel-plated or silver I couldn'tmake out, and carried it up the widest and splendidest pair o' stairsthat I ever see in a house jus' intended to be lived in. When he got tothe fust landin' he met a gentleman, and give him the letter. When Isaw this I was took aback, for I thought it was his lordship a-comin'down, an' I didn't want to have no interview with a earl at his frontdoor. But the second glance I took at him showed me that it wasn't him. He opened it, notwithstanding', an' read it all through from beginnin'to end. When he had done it he looked down at me, and then he went backup stairs a-follered by the flunk, which last pretty soon came downag'in an' told me I was to go up. I don't think I ever felt so muchlike a wringed-out dish-cloth as I did when I went up them palatialstairs. But I tried to think of things that would prop me up. P'r'aps, I thought, my ancient ancestors came to this land with his'n; whoknows? An' I might 'a' been switched off on some female line, an' solost the name an' estates. At any rate, be brave! With such thoughts asthese I tried to stiffen my legs, figgeratively speakin'. We wentthrough two or three rooms (I hadn't time to count 'em) an' then I wasshowed into the lofty presence of the earl. He was standin' by thefire-place, an' the minnit my eyes lit upon him I knowed it was him. "

"Why, how was that?" cried Euphemia and myself almost in the samebreath. 

"I knowed him by his wax figger, " continued Pomona, "which Jone and Isee at Madame Tussaud's wax-works. They've got all the head people ofthese days there now, as well as the old kings and the pizeners. Theclothes wasn't exactly the same, though very good on each, an' therewas more of an air of shortenin' of the spine in the wax figger than inthe other one. But the likeness was awful strikin'. 

"'Well, my good woman, ' says he, a-holdin' my open letter in his hand, 'so you want to see a lord, do you?'"

"What on earth did you write to him?" exclaimed Euphemia. "You mustn'tgo on a bit further until you have told what was in your letter. "

"Well, " said Pomona, "as near as I can remember, it was like this:'_William, Lord Cobden, Earl of Sorsetshire an' Derry. Dear Sir. Bein'brought up under Republican institutions, in the land of the free--'_ Ileft out '_the home of the brave_' because there wasn't no use crowin'about that jus' then--'_I haven't had no oppertunity of meetin' with aindividual of lordly blood. Ever since I was a small girl takin' booksfrom the circulatin' libery, an' obliged to read out loud with dividedsillerbles, I've drank in every word of the tales of lords and othernobles of high degree, that the little shops where I gen'rally got mybooks, an' some with the pages out at the most excitin' parts, contained. An' so I asks you now, Sir Lord--_' I did put _humbly_, butI scratched that out, bein' an American woman--'_to do me the favor ofa short audience. Then, when I reads about noble earls an' dukes intheir brilliant lit halls an' castles, or mounted on their champin'chargers, a-leadin' their trusty hordes to victory amid the glitteringminarets of fame, I'll know what they looks like. _' An' then I signedmy name. 

"'Yes, sir, ' says I, in answer to his earlship's question, " saidPomona, taking up her story, "'I did want to see one, upon my word. '

"'An' now that you have seen him, ' says he, 'what do you think of him?'

"Now, I had made up my mind before I entered this ducal pile, or put myfoot on one ancestral stone, that I'd be square and honest through thewhole business, and not try no counterfeit presentiments with the earl. So I says to him:--

"'The fust thing I thinks is, that you've got on the nicest suit ofclothes that I've ever seed yit, not bein' exactly Sunday clothes, andyit fit for company, an' if money can buy 'em--an' men's clothes ischeap enough here, dear only knows--I'm goin' to have a suit jus' likeit for Jone, my husband. ' It was a kind o' brown mixed stuff, with alittle spot of red in it here an' there, an' was about as gay for plaingoods, an' as plain for gay goods, as anythin' could be, an' 'twas easyenough to see that it was all wool. 'Of course, ' says I, 'Jone'll havehis coat made different in front, for single-breasted, an' a buttonin'so high up is a'most too stylish for him, 'specially as fashions 'udchange afore the coat was wore out. But I needn't bother your earlshipabout that. '

"'An' so, ' says he, an' I imagine I see an air of sadness steal overhis features, 'it's my clothes, after all, that interest you?'

"'Oh, no, ' says I, 'I mention them because they come up fust. There is, no doubt, qualities of mind and body--'

"'Well, we won't go into that, ' said his earlship, 'an' I want to askyou a question. I suppose you represent the middle class in yourcountry?'

"'I don't know 'zactly where society splits with us, ' says I, 'but Iguess I'm somewhere nigh the crack. '

"'Now don't you really believe, ' says he, 'that you and the people ofyour class would be happier, an' feel safer, politically speakin', ifthey had among 'em a aristocracy to which they could look up to intimes of trouble, as their nat'ral born gardeens? I ask yer thisbecause I want to know for myself what are the reel sentiments of yerpeople. '

"'Well, sir, ' says I, 'when your work is done, an' your kitchen cleanedup, an' your lamp lit, a lord or a duke is jus' tip-top to read about, if the type aint too fine an' the paper mean beside, which it often isin the ten-cent books; but, further than this, I must say, we aint gotno use for 'em. ' At that he kind o' steps back, and looks as if he wasgoin' to say somethin', but I puts in quick: 'But you mustn't think, myearl, ' says I, 'that we undervallers you. When we remembers the fieldof Agincourt; and Chevy Chase; an' the Tower of London, with the blockon which three lords was beheaded, with the very cuts in it which theheadsman made when he chopped 'em off, as well as two crooked onesa-showin' his bad licks, which little did he think history wouldpreserve forever; an' the old Guildhall, where down in the ancientcrypt is a-hangin' our Declaration of Independence along with the Romanpots and kittles dug up in London streets; we can't forgit that if ithadn't 'a' been for your old ancestral lines as roots, we'd never beenthe flourishin' tree we is. '

"'Well, ' said his earlship, when I'd got through, an' he kind o' lookedas if he didn't know whether to laugh or not, 'if you represent thefeelin's of your class in your country, I reckon they're not just readyfor a aristocracy yit. '

"An' with that he give me a little nod, an' walked off into anotherroom. It was pretty plain from this that the interview was brought to aclose, an' so I come away. The flunk was all ready to show me out, an'he did it so expeditious, though quite polite, that I didn't git nochance to take a good look at the furniter and carpets, which I'd 'a'liked to have done. An' so I've talked to a real earl, an' if not inhis ancestral pile, at any rate in the gorgeousest house I ever see. An' the brilliantest dream of my youth has come true. "

When she had finished I rose and looked upon her. 

"Pomona, " said I, "we may yet visit many foreign countries. We may seekings, queens, dukes, counts, sheikhs, beys, sultans, khedives, pashas, rajahs, and I don't know what potentates besides, and I wish to sayjust this one thing to you. If you don't want to get yourself and usinto some dreadful scrape, and perhaps bring our journeys to a suddenclose, you must put a curb on your longing for communing with beings ofnoble blood. "

"That's true, sir, " said Pomona, thoughtfully, "an' I made a prettyclose shave of it this time, for when I was talkin' to the earl, I wasjust on the p'int of tellin' him that I had such a high opinion of hiskind o' folks that I once named a big black dog after one of 'em, but Ijus' remembered in time, an' slipped on to somethin' else. But Itrembled worse than a peanut woman with a hackman goin' round thecorner to ketch a train an' his hubs just grazin' the legs of herstand. An' so I promise you, sir, that I'll put my heel on allhankerin' after potentates. "

And so she made her promise. And, knowing Pomona, I felt sure that shewould keep it--if she could. 

POMONA'S DAUGHTER. 

In the pretty walk, bordered by bright flowers and low, overhangingshrubbery, which lies back of the Albert Memorial, in KensingtonGardens, London, Jonas sat on a green bench, with his baby on his knee. A few nurses were pushing baby-carriages about in different parts ofthe walk, and there were children playing not far away. It was drawingtoward the close of the afternoon, and Jonas was thinking it was nearlytime to go home, when Pomona came running to him from the gorgeousmonument, which she had been carefully inspecting. 

"Jone, " she cried, "do you know I've been lookin' at all them great menthat's standin' round the bottom of the monnyment, an' though there'sover a hundred of 'em, I'm sure, I can't find a American among 'em!There's poets, an' artists, an' leadin' men, scraped up from all parts, an' not one of our illustrious dead. What d'ye think of that?"

"I can't believe it, " said Jonas. "If we go home with a tale like thatwe'll hear the recruiting-drum from Newark to Texas, and, ten to one, I'll be drafted. "

"You needn't be makin' fun, " said Pomona; "you come an' see foryourself. Perhaps you kin' find jus' one American, an' then I'll gohome satisfied. "

"All right, " said Jonas. 

And, putting the child on the bench, he told her he'd be back in aminute, and hurried after Pomona, to give a hasty look for the desiredAmerican. 

Corinne, the offspring of Jonas and Pomona, had some peculiarities. Oneof these was that she was accustomed to stay where she was put. Eversince she had been old enough to be carried about, she had been carriedabout by one parent or the other; and, as it was frequently necessaryto set her down, she had learned to sit and wait until she was taken upagain. She was now nearly two years old, very strong and active, and ofan intellect which had already begun to tower. She could walk verywell, but Jonas took such delight in carrying her that he seldomappeared to recognize her ability to use her legs. She could also talk, but how much her parents did not know. She was a taciturn child, andpreferred to keep her thoughts to herself, and, although she sometimesastonished us all by imitating remarks she had heard, she frequentlydeclined to repeat the simplest words that had been taught her. 

Corinne remained on the bench about a minute after her father had lefther, and then, contrary to her usual custom, she determined to leavethe place where she had been put. Turning over on her stomach, afterthe manner of babies, she lowered her feet to the ground. Havingobtained a foothold, she turned herself about and proceeded, withsturdy steps, to a baby-carriage near by which had attracted herattention. This carriage, which was unattended, contained a baby, somewhat smaller and younger than Corinne, who sat up and gazed withyouthful interest at the visitor who stood by the side of her vehicle. Corinne examined, with a critical eye, the carriage and its occupant. She looked at the soft pillow at the baby's back, and regarded withadmiration the afghan crocheted in gay colors which was spread over itslap, and the spacious gig-top which shielded it from the sun. Shestooped down and looked at the wheels, and stood up and gazed at theblue eyes and canary hair of the little occupant. Then, in quiet butdecided tones, Corinne said:--

"Dit out!"

The other baby looked at her, but made no movement to obey. Afterwaiting a few moments, an expression of stern severity spreading itselfthe while over her countenance, Corinne reached over and put her armsaround the fair-haired child. Then, with all her weight and strength, she threw herself backward and downward. The other baby, being light, was thus drawn bodily out of its carriage, and Corinne sat heavily uponthe ground, her new acquaintance sprawling in her lap. Notwithstandingthat she bore the brunt of the fall upon the gravel, Corinne uttered nocry; but, disengaging herself from her encumbrance, she rose to herfeet. The other baby imitated her, and Corinne, taking her by the hand, led her to the bench where she herself had been left. 

"Dit up!" said Corinne. 

This, however, the other baby was unable to do; but she stood quitestill, evidently greatly interested in the proceedings. Corinne lefther and walked to the little carriage, into which she proceeded toclimb. After some extraordinary exertions, during which her fat legswere frequently thrust through the spokes of the wheels and ruthlesslydrawn out again, she tumbled in. Arranging herself as comfortably asshe knew how, she drew the gay afghan over her, leaned back upon thesoft pillow, gazed up at the sheltering gig-top, and resigned herselfto luxurious bliss. At this supreme moment, the nurse who had hadcharge of the carriage and its occupant came hurrying around a cornerof the path. She had been taking leave of some of her nurse-maidfriends, and had stayed longer than she had intended. It was necessaryfor her to take a suitable leave of these ladies, for that night shewas going on a journey. She had been told to take the baby out for anairing, and to bring it back early. Now, to her surprise, the afternoonhad nearly gone, and hurrying to the little carriage she seized thehandle at the back and rapidly pushed it home, without stopping to lookbeneath the overhanging gig-top, or at the green bench, with which hersomewhat worried soul had no concern. If anything could add toCorinne's ecstatic delight, it was this charming motion. Closing hereyes contentedly, she dropped asleep. 

The baby with canary hair looked at the receding nurse and carriagewith widening eyes and reddening cheeks. Then, opening her mouth, sheuttered the cry of the deserted; but the panic-stricken nurse did nothear her, and, if she had, what were the cries of other children toher? Her only business was to get home quickly with her young charge. 

About five minutes after these events, Jonas and Pomona came hurryingalong the path. They, too, had stayed away much longer than they hadintended, and had suddenly given up their search for the American, whomthey had hoped to find in high relief upon the base of the AlbertMemorial. Stepping quickly to the child, who still stood sobbing by thebench, Jonas exclaimed, "You poor itty--!"

And then he stopped suddenly. Pomona also stood for a second, and thenshe made a dash at the child, and snatched it up. Gazing sharply at itstear-smeared countenance, she exclaimed, "What's this?"

The baby did not seem able to explain what it was, and only answered bya tearful sob. Jonas did not say a word; but, with the lithe quicknessof a dog after a rat, he began to search behind and under benches, inthe bushes, on the grass, here, there, and everywhere. 

About nine o'clock that evening, Pomona came to us with tears in hereyes, and the canary-haired baby in her arms, and told us that Corinnewas lost. They had searched everywhere; they had gone to the police;telegrams had been sent to every station; they had done everything thatcould be done, but had found no trace of the child. 

"If I hadn't this, " sobbed Pomona, holding out the child, "I believeI'd go wild. It isn't that she can take the place of my dear baby, butby a-keepin' hold of her I believe we'll git on the track of Corinne. "

We were both much affected by this news, and Euphemia joined Pomona inher tears. 

"Jonas is scourin' the town yet, " said Pomona. "He'll never give uptill he drops. But I felt you ought to know, and I couldn't keep thislittle thing in the night-air no longer. It's a sweet child, and itsclothes are lovely. If it's got a mother, she's bound to want to see itbefore long; an' if ever I ketch sight of her, she don't git away fromme till I have my child. "

"It is a very extraordinary case, " I said. "Children are often stolen, but it is seldom we hear of one being taken and another left in itsplace, especially when the children are of different ages, and totallyunlike. "

"That's so, " said Pomona. "At first, I thought that Corinne had beenchanged off for a princess, or something like that, but nobody couldn'tmake anybody believe that my big, black-haired baby was thiswhite-an'-yaller thing. "

"Can't you find any mark on her clothes, " asked Euphemia, "by which youcould discover her parentage? If there are no initials, perhaps you canfind a coronet or a coat of arms. "

"No, " said Pomona, "there aint nothin'. I've looked careful. Butthere's great comfort to think that Corinne's well stamped. "

"Stamped!" we exclaimed. "What do you mean by that?"

"Why, you see, " answered Pomona, "when Jone an' I was goin' to bringour baby over here among so many million people, we thought there mightbe danger of its gittin' lost or mislaid, though we never reallybelieved any such thing would happen, or we wouldn't have come. An' sowe agreed to mark her, for I've often read about babies bein' stole an'kept two or three years, and when found bein' so changed their ownmothers didn't know 'em. Jone said we'd better tattoo Corinne, for themmarks would always be there, but I wouldn't agree to have the littlecreature's skin stuck with needles, not even after Jone said we mightgive her chloryform; so we agreed to stamp initials on her withPerkins's Indelible Dab. It is intended to mark sheep, but it don'thurt, and it don't never come off. We put the letters on the back ofher heels, where they wouldn't show, for she's never to go barefoot, an' where they'd be easy got at if we wanted to find 'em. We put R. G. On one heel for the name of the place, and J. P. On the other heel forJonas an' me. If, twenty years from now, " said Pomona, her tearswelling out afresh, "I should see a young woman with eyes likeCorinne's, an' that I felt was her, a-walking up to the bridal altar, with all the white flowers, an' the floatin' veils, an' the crowds inthe church, an' the music playin', an' the minister all ready, I'd jistjerk that young woman into the vestry-room, an' have off her shoes an'stockin's in no time. An' if she had R. G. On one heel, an' J. P. On theother, that bridegroom could go home alone. "

We confidently assured Pomona that with such means of identification, and the united action of ourselves and the police, the child wouldsurely be found, and we accompanied her to her lodgings, which were nowin a house not far from our own. 

When the nurse reached home with the little carriage it was almostdark, and, snatching up the child, she ran to the nursery withoutmeeting any one. The child felt heavy, but she was in such a hurry shescarcely noticed that. She put it upon the bed, and then lighting thegas she unwrapped the afghan, in which the little creature was nowalmost entirely enveloped. When she saw the face, and the black hair, from which the cap had fallen off, she was nearly frightened to death, but, fortunately for herself, she did not scream. She was rather astupid woman, with but few ideas, but she could not fail to see thatsome one had taken her charge, and put this child in its place. Herfirst impulse was to run back to the gardens, but she felt certain thather baby had been carried off; and, besides, she could not, withoutdiscovery, leave the child here or take it with her; and while shestood in dumb horror, her mistress sent for her. The lady was justgoing out to dinner, and told the nurse that, as they were all to startfor the Continent by the tidal train, which left at ten o'clock thatnight, she must be ready with the baby, well wrapped up for thejourney. The half-stupefied woman had no words nor courage with whichto declare, at this moment, the true state of the case. She saidnothing, and went back to the nursery and sat there in dumbconsternation, and without sense enough to make a plan of any kind. Thestrange child soon awoke and began to cry, and then the nursemechanically fed it, and it went to sleep again. When the summons cameto her to prepare for the journey, in cowardly haste she wrapped thebaby, so carefully covering its head that she scarcely gave it a chanceto breathe; and she and the lady's waiting-maid were sent in a cab tothe Victoria Station. The lady was travelling with a party of friends, and the nurse and the waiting-maid were placed in the adjoiningcompartment of the railway-carriage. On the six hours' channel passagefrom Newhaven to Dieppe the lady was extremely sick, and reached Francein such a condition that she had to be almost carried on shore. It hadbeen her intention to stop a few days at this fashionablewatering-place, but she declared that she must go straight on to Paris, where she could be properly attended to, and, moreover, that she neverwanted to see the sea again. When she had been placed in the train forParis she sent for the nurse, and feebly asked how the baby was, and ifit had been seasick. On being told that it was all right, and had notshown a sign of illness, she expressed her gratification, and lay backamong her rugs. 

The nurse and the waiting-maid travelled together, as before, but thelatter, wearied by her night's attendance upon her mistress, slept allthe way from Dieppe to Paris. When they reached that city, they wentinto the waiting-room until a carriage could be procured for them, andthere the nurse, placing the baby on a seat, asked her companion totake care of it for a few minutes. She then went out of the stationdoor, and disappeared into Paris. 

In this way, the brunt of the terrible disclosure, which came verysoon, was thrown upon the waiting-maid. No one, however, attached anyblame to her: of course, the absconding nurse had carried away thefair-haired child. The waiting-maid had been separated from her duringthe passage from the train to the station, and it was supposed that inthis way an exchange of babies had been easily made by her and herconfederates. When the mother knew of her loss, her grief was soviolent that for a time her life was in danger. All Paris was searchedby the police and her friends, but no traces could be found of thewicked nurse and the fair-haired child. Money, which, of course, wasconsidered the object of the inhuman crime, was freely offered, but tono avail. No one imagined for an instant that the exchange was madebefore the party reached Paris. It seemed plain enough that the crimewas committed when the woman fled. 

Corinne, who had been placed in the charge of a servant until it wasdetermined what to do with her, was not at all satisfied with the newstate of affairs, and loudly demanded her papa and mamma, behaving fora time in a very turbulent way. In a few days, the lady recovered herstrength, and asked to see this child. The initials upon Corinne'sheels had been discovered, and, when she was told of these, the ladyexamined them closely. 

"The people who left this child, " she exclaimed, "do not intend to loseher! They know where she is, and they will keep a watch upon her, andwhen they get a chance they will take her. I, too, will keep a watchupon her, and when they come for her I shall see them. "

Her use of words soon showed Corinne to be of English parentage, and itwas generally supposed that she had been stolen from some travellers, and had been used at the station as a means of giving time to the nurseto get away with the other child. 

In accord with her resolution, the grief-stricken lady put Corinne inthe charge of a trusty woman, and, moreover, scarcely ever allowed herto be out of her sight. 

It was suggested that advertisement be made for the parents of a childmarked with E. G. And J. P. But to this the lady decidedly objected. 

"If her parents find her, " she said, "they will take her away; and Iwant to keep her till the thieves come for her. I have lost my child, and as this one is the only clue I shall ever have to her, I intend tokeep it. When I have found my child, it will be time enough to restorethis one. "

Thus selfish is maternal love. 

Pomona bore up better under the loss than did Jonas. Neither of themgave up the search for a day; but Jonas, haggard and worn, wanderedaimlessly about the city, visiting every place into which he imagined achild might have wandered, or might have been taken, searching even tothe crypt in the Guildhall and the Tower of London. Pomona's mindworked quite as actively as her husband's body. She took great care of"Little Kensington, " as she called the strange child from the placewhere she had been found; and therefore could not go about as Jonasdid. After days and nights of ceaseless supposition, she had come tothe conclusion that Corinne had been stolen by opera singers. 

"I suppose you never knew it, " she said to us, "for I took pains not tolet it disturb you, but that child has notes in her voice about twostories higher than any operer prymer donner that I ever heard, an'I've heard lots of 'em, for I used to go into the top gallery of theoperer as often as into the theayter; an' if any operer singer everheard them high notes of Corinne's, --an' there was times when she'd let'em out without the least bit of a notice, --it's them that's took her. "

"But, my poor Pomona, " said Euphemia, "you don't suppose that littlechild could be of any use to an opera singer; at least, not for yearsand years. "

"Oh, yes, ma'am, " replied Pomona; "she was none too little. Soprannersis like mocking-birds; they've got to be took young. "

No arguments could shake Pomona's belief in this theory. And she dailylamented the fact that there was no opera in London at that time thatshe might go to the performances, and see if there was any one on thestage who looked mean enough to steal a child. 

"If she was there, " said Pomona, "I'd know it. She'd feel the scorn ofa mother's eye on her, an' her guilty heart would make her forget herpart. "

Pomona frequently went into Kensington Gardens, and laid traps foropera singers who might be sojourning in London. She would take LittleKensington into the gardens, and, placing her carefully in the cornerof a bench, would retire to a short distance and pretend to be absorbedin a book, while her sharp eyes kept up the watch for a long-hairedtenor, or a beautifully dressed soprano, who should suddenly rush outfrom the bushes and seize the child. 

"I wouldn't make no fuss if they was to come out, " she said. "LittleKensington would go under my arm, not theirn, an' I'd walk calmly with'em to their home. Then I'd say: 'Give me my child, an' take yourn, which, though she probably hasn't got no voice, is a lot too good foryou; and may the house hurl stools at you the next time you appear, isthe limit of a mother's curse. '"

But, alas for Pomona, no opera singers ever showed themselves. 

These days of our stay in London were not pleasant. We went aboutlittle, and enjoyed nothing. At last Pomona came to us, her face palebut determined. 

"It's no use, " she said, "for us to keep you here no longer, when Iknow you've got through with the place, and want to go on, an' we'llgo, too, for I don't believe my child's in London. She's been tookaway, an' we might as well look for her in one place as another. Theperlice tells us that if she's found here, they'll know it fust, an'they'll telegraph to us wherever we is; an' if it wasn't fur nuthin'else, it would be a mercy to git Jone out of this place. He goes aboutlike a cat after her drowned kittens. It's a-bringin' out them chillsof hisn, an' the next thing it'll kill him. I can't make him believe inthe findin' of Corinne as firm as I do, but I know as long as Perkins'sIndelible Dab holds out (an' there's no rubbin' nor washin' it off)I'll git my child. "

I admitted, but not with Pomona's hopefulness, that the child might befound as easily in Paris as here. 

"And we've seen everything about London, " said Euphemia, "exceptWindsor Castle. I did want, and still want, to see just how the Queenkeeps house, and perhaps get some ideas which might be useful; but HerMajesty is away now, and, although they say that's the time to gothere, it is not the time for me. You'll not find me going aboutinspecting domestic arrangements when the lady of the house is away. "

So we packed up and went to Paris, taking Little Kensington along. Notwithstanding our great sympathy with Corinne's parents, Euphemia andmyself could not help becoming somewhat resigned to the afflictionwhich had befallen them, and we found ourselves obliged to enjoy thetrip very much. Euphemia became greatly excited and exhilarated as weentered Paris. For weeks I knew she had been pining for this city. Asshe stepped from the train she seemed to breathe a new air, and hereyes sparkled as she knew by the prattle and cries about her that shewas really in France. 

We were obliged to wait some time in the station before we could claimour baggage, and while we were standing there Euphemia drew myattention to a placard on the wall. "Look at that!" she exclaimed. "Even here, on our very entrance to the city, we see signs of thatpoliteness which is the very heart of the nation. I can't read thewhole of that notice from here, but those words in large letters showthat it refers to the observance of the ancient etiquettes. Think ofit! Here in a railroad station people are expected to behave to eachother with the old-time dignity and gallantry of our forefathers. Itell you it thrills my very soul to think I am among such a people, andI am glad they can't understand what I say, so that I may speak rightout. "

I never had the heart to throw cold water on Euphemia's noble emotions, and so I did not tell her that the notice merely requested travellersto remove from their trunks the _anciennes etiquettes_, or old railwaylabels. 

We were not rich tourists, and we all took lodgings in a small hotel towhich we had been recommended. It was in the Latin Quarter, near theriver, and opposite the vast palace of the Louvre, into whoselabyrinth of picture-galleries Euphemia and I were eager to plunge. 

But first we all went to the office of the American Consul, andconsulted him in regard to the proper measures to be taken forsearching for the little Corinne in Paris. After that, for some days, Jonas and Pomona spent all their time, and Euphemia and I part of ours, in looking for the child. Euphemia's Parisian exhilaration continued toincrease, but there were some things that disappointed her. 

"I thought, " said she, "that people in France took their morning coffeein bed, but they do not bring it up to us. "

"But, my dear, " said I, "I am sure you said before we came here thatyou considered taking coffee in bed as an abominable habit, and thatnothing could ever make you like it. "

"I know, " said she, "that I have always thought it a lazy custom, andnot a bit nice, and I think so yet. But still, when we are in a strangecountry, I expect to live as other people do. "

It was quite evident that Euphemia had been looking forward for sometime to the novel experience of taking her coffee in bed. But thegray-haired old gentleman who acted as our chambermaid never hintedthat he supposed we wanted anything of the kind. 

Nothing, however, excited Euphemia's indignation so much as thepractice of giving a _pourboire_ to cabmen and others. "It is simplyfeeding the flames of intemperance, " she said. When she had occasion totake a cab by herself, she never conformed to this reprehensiblecustom. When she paid the driver, she would add something to theregular fare, but as she gave it to him she would say in her mostdistinct French: "_Pour manger. Comprenezvous_?" The _cocher_ wouldgenerally nod his head, and thank her very kindly, which he had goodreason to do, for she never forgot that it took more money to buy foodthan drink. 

In spite of the attractions of the city, our sojourn in Paris was notsatisfactory. Apart from the family trouble which oppressed us, itrained nearly all the time. We were told that in order to see Paris atits best we should come in the spring. In the month of May it wascharming. Then everybody would be out-of-doors, and we would see awhole city enjoying life. As we wished to enjoy life without waitingfor the spring, we determined to move southward, and visit during thewinter those parts of Europe which then lay under blue skies and a warmsun. It was impossible, at present, for Pomona and Jonas to enjoy lifeanywhere, and they would remain in Paris, and then, if they did notfind their child in a reasonable time, they would join us. Neither ofthem understood French, but this did not trouble them in the slightest. Early in their Paris wanderings they had met with a boy who had oncelived in New York, and they had taken him into pay as an interpreter. He charged them a franc and a half a day, and I am sure they got theirmoney's worth. 

Soon after we had made up our minds to move toward the south, I camehome from a visit to the bankers, and joyfully told Euphemia that I hadmet Baxter. 

"Baxter?" said she, inquiringly; "who is he?"

"I used to go to school with him, " I said; "and to think that I shouldmeet him here!"

"I never heard you mention him before, " she remarked. 

"No, " I answered; "it must be fifteen or sixteen years since I haveseen him, and really it is a great pleasure to meet him here. He is acapital fellow. He was very glad to see me. "

"I should think, " said Euphemia, "if you like each other so much thatyou would have exchanged visits in America, or, at least, havecorresponded. "

"Oh, it is a very different thing at home, " I said; "but here it isdelightful to meet an old school friend like Baxter. He is coming tosee us this evening. "

That evening Baxter came. He was delighted to meet Euphemia, andinquired with much solicitude about our plans and movements. He hadnever heard of my marriage, and, for years, had not known whether I wasdead or alive. Now he took the keenest interest in me and mine. We werea little sorry to find that this was not Baxter's first visit toEurope. He had been here several times; and, as he expressed it, "hadknocked about a good deal over the Continent. " He was dreadfullyfamiliar with everything, and talked about some places we were longingto see in a way that considerably dampened our enthusiasm. In fact, there was about him an air of superiority which, though tempered bymuch kindliness, was not altogether agreeable. He highly approved ouridea of leaving Paris. "The city is nothing now, " he said. "You oughtto see it in May. " We said we had heard that, and then spoke of Italy. "You mustn't go there in the winter, " he said. "You don't see thecountry at its best. May is the time for Italy. Then it is neither toohot nor too cold, and you will find out what an Italian sky is. " Wesaid that we hoped to be in England in the spring, and he agreed thatwe were right there. "England is never so lovely as in May. "

"Well!" exclaimed Euphemia; "it seems to me, from all I hear, that weought to take about twelve years to see Europe. We should leave theUnited States every April, spend May in some one place, and go back inJune. And this we ought to do each year until we have seen all theplaces in May. This might do very well for any one who had plenty ofmoney, and who liked the ocean, but I don't think we could stand it. Asfor me, " she continued, "I would like to spend these months, so coldand disagreeable here, in the sunny lands of Southern France. I want tosee the vineyards and the olive groves, and the dark-eyed maidenssinging in the fields. I long for the soft skies of Provence, and tohear the musical dialect in which Frederic Mistral wrote his 'Miréio. '"

"That sounds very well, " said Baxter, "but in all those southerncountries you must be prepared in winter for the rigors of the climate. The sun is pretty warm sometimes at this season, but as soon as you getout of it you will freeze to death if you are not careful. The only wayto keep warm is to be in the sun, out of the wind, and that won't workon rainy days, and winter is the rainy season, you know. In the housesit is as cold as ice, and the fires don't amount to anything. Youmight as well light a bundle of wooden tooth-picks and put it in thefire-place. If you could sleep all the time you might be comfortable, for they give you a feather-bed to cover yourself with. Outside youmay do well enough if you keep up a steady walking, but indoors youwill have hard work to keep warm. You must wear chest-protectors. Theysell them down there--great big ones, made of rabbit-skins; and a nicething for a man to have to wear in the house is a pair of cloth bagslined with fur. They would keep his feet and legs warm when he isn'twalking. It is well, too, to have a pair of smaller fur bags for yourhands when you are in the house. You can have a little hole in the endof one of them through which you can stick a pen-holder, and then youcan write letters. An india-rubber bag, filled with hot water, to lowerdown your back, is a great comfort. You haven't any idea how cold yourspine gets in those warm countries. And, if I were you, I'd avoid aplace where you see them carting coal stoves around. Those are theworst spots. And you need not expect to get one of the stoves, notwhile they can sell you wood at two sticks for a franc. You had bettergo to some place where they are not accustomed to having tourists. Inthe regular resorts they are afraid to make any show of keeping warm, for fear people will think they are in the habit of having coldweather. And in Italy you've got to be precious careful, or you'll betaken sick. And another thing. I suppose you brought a great deal ofbaggage with you. You, for instance, " said our friend, turning to me, "packed up, I suppose, a heavy overcoat for cold weather, and a lighterone, and a good winter suit, and a good summer one, besides another forspring and fall, and an old suit to lie about in in the orange groves, and a dress suit, besides such convenient articles as old boots fortramping in, pocket-lanterns, and so forth. "

Strange to say, I had all these, besides many other things of a similarkind, and I could not help admitting it. 

"Well, " said Baxter, "you'd better get rid of the most of that as soonas you can, for if you travel with that sort of heavy weight in theMediterranean countries, you might as well write home and get yourhouse mortgaged. All along the lines of travel, in the south of Europe, you find the hotels piled up with American baggage left there bytravellers, who'll never send for it. It reminds one of the rows of oxskeletons that used to mark out the roads to California. But I guessyou'll be able to stick it out. Good bye. Let me hear from you. "

When Baxter left us, we could not but feel a little down-hearted, andEuphemia turned to her guide-book to see if his remarks werecorroborated there. 

"Well, there is one comfort, " she exclaimed at last; "this book saysthat in Naples epidemics are not so deadly as they are in some otherplaces, and if the traveller observes about a page of directions, whichare given here, and consults a physician the moment he feels himselfout of order, it is quite possible to ward off attacks of fever. Thatis encouraging, and I think we might as well go on. "

"Yes, " said I, "and here, in this newspaper, a hotel in Veniceadvertises that its situation enables it to avoid the odors of theGrand Canal; and an undertaker in Nice advertises that he will forwardthe corpses of tourists to all parts of Europe and America. I thinkthere is a chance of our getting back, either dead or alive, and so Ialso say, let us go on. "

But before we left Paris, we determined to go to the Grand Opera, whichwe had not yet visited, and Euphemia proposed that we should takePomona with us. The poor girl was looking wretched and woe-begone, andneeded to have her mind diverted from her trouble. Jonas, at the bestof times, could not be persuaded to any amusement of this sort, butPomona agreed to go. We had no idea of dressing for the boxes, and wetook good front seats in the upper circle, where we could see the wholeinterior of the splendid house. As soon as the performance commenced, the old dramatic fire began to burn in Pomona. Her eyes sparkled asthey had not done for many a day, and she really looked like her ownbright self. The opera was "Le Prophète, " and, as none of us had everseen anything produced on so magnificent a scale, we were greatlyinterested, especially in the act which opens with that wonderfulwinter scene in the forest, with hundreds of people scattered aboutunder the great trees, with horses and sleighs and the frozen river inthe background where the skaters came gliding on. The grouping waspicturesque and artistic; the scale of the scene was immense; there wasa vast concourse of people on the stage; the dances were beautiful; themerry skaters graceful; the music was inspiring. 

Suddenly, above the voices of the chorus, above the drums and bassstrings of the orchestra, above the highest notes of the sopranos, above the great chandelier itself, came two notes distinct and plain, and the words to which they were set, were:--

"Ma-ma!"

Like a shot Pomona was on her feet. With arms outspread and her wholefigure dilating until she seemed twice as large as usual, I thought shewas about to spring over the balcony into the house below. I clutchedher, and Euphemia and I, both upon our feet, followed her gaze and sawupon the stage a little girl in gay array, and upturned face. It wasthe lost Corinne. 

Without a word, Pomona made a sudden turn, sprang up the steps behindher, and out upon the lobby, Euphemia and I close behind her. Aroundand down the steps we swept, from lobby to lobby, amazing thecloak-keepers and attendants, but stopping for nothing; down the grandstaircase like an avalanche, almost into the arms of the astonishedmilitary sentinels, who, startled from their soldier-like propriety, sprang, muskets in hand, toward us. It was only then that I was able tospeak to Pomona, and breathlessly ask her where she was going. 

"To the stage-door!" she cried, making a motion to hurl to the groundthe soldier before her. But there was no need to go to any stage-door. In a moment there rushed along the corridor a lady, dressed apparentlyin all the colors of the rainbow, and bearing in her arms a child. There was a quick swoop, and in another moment Pomona had the child. But clinging to its garments, the lady cried, in excellent English, butwith some foreign tinge:--

"Where is my child you stole?"

"Stole your grandmother!" briefly ejaculated Pomona. And then, in grandforgetfulness of everything but her great joy, she folded her armsaround her child, and standing like a statue of motherly content, sheseemed, in our eyes, to rise to the regions of the caryatides and theceiling frescos. Not another word she spoke, and amid the confusion ofquestions and exclamations, and the wild demands of the lady, Euphemiaand I contrived to make her understand the true state of the case, andthat her child was probably at our lodgings. Then there were greatexclamations and quick commands; and, directly, four of us were in acarriage whirling to our hotel. All the way, Pomona sat silent with herchild clasped tightly, while Euphemia and I kept up an earnest butunsatisfactory conversation with the lady; for, as to this strangeaffair, we could tell each other but little. We learned from the lady, who was an assistant soprano at the Grand Opera, how Corinne came toher in Paris, and how she had always kept her with her, even dressingher up, and taking her on the stage in that great act where as manymen, women, and children as possible were brought upon the scene. Whenshe heard the cry of Corinne, she knew the child had seen its mother, and then, whether the opera went on or not, it mattered not to her. 

When the carriage stopped, the three women sprang out at once, and howthey all got through the door, I cannot tell. There was such atremendous ring at the gate of the court that the old _concierge_, whoopened it by pulling a wire in his little den somewhere in the rear, must have been dreadfully startled in his sleep. We rushed through thecourt and up the stairs past our apartments to Pomona's room; and therein the open doorway stood Jonas, his coat off, his sandy hair in wildconfusion, his face radiant, and in his hands Little Kensington in hernightgown. 

"I knew by the row on the stairs you'd brought her home, " he exclaimed, as Little Kensington was snatched from him and Corinne was put into hisarms. 

We left Jonas and Pomona to their wild delight, and I accompanied theequally happy lady to the opera house, where I took occasion to reclaimthe wraps which we had left behind in our sudden flight. 

When the police of Paris were told to give up their search for anabsconding nurse accompanied by a child, and to look for one withoutsuch encumbrance, they found her. From this woman was obtained much ofthe story I have told, and a good deal more was drawn out, little bylittle, from Corinne, who took especial pleasure in telling, in briefsentences, how she had ousted the lazy baby from the carriage, and howshe had scratched her own legs in getting in. 

"What I'm proud of, " said Pomona, "is that she did it all herself. Itwasn't none of your common stealin's an' findin's; an' it ainteverywhere you'll see a child that kin git itself lost back of PrinceAlbert's monnyment, an' git itself found at the operer in Paris, an'attend to both ends of the case itself. An', after all, them two highnotes of hern was more good than Perkins's Indelible Dab. "

DERELICT. 

A TALE OF THE WAYWARD SEA. 

I. 

On the 25th of May, 1887, I sat alone upon the deck of the _Sparhawk_, a three-masted schooner, built, according to a description in thecabin, at Sackport, Me. I was not only alone on the deck, but I wasalone on the ship. The _Sparhawk_ was a "derelict"; that is, if avessel with a man on board of her can be said to be totally abandoned. 

I had now been on board the schooner for eight days. How long beforethat she had been drifting about at the mercy of the winds and currentsI did not then know, but I discovered afterward that during a cycloneearly in April she had been abandoned by her entire crew, and had sincebeen reported five times to the hydrographic office of the NavyDepartment in Washington, and her positions and probable courses dulymarked on the pilot chart. 

She had now become one of that little fleet abandoned at sea for onecause or another, and floating about this way and that, as the wildwinds blew or the ocean currents ran. Voyaging without purpose, as ifmanned by the spirits of ignorant landsmen, sometimes backward andforward over comparatively small ocean spaces, and sometimes driftingfor many months and over thousands of miles, these derelicts form, atnight and in fog, one of the dangers most to be feared by those whosail upon the sea. 

As I said before, I came on board the abandoned _Sparhawk_ on the 17thof May, and very glad indeed was I to get my feet again on solidplanking. Three days previously the small steamer _Thespia_, fromHavana to New York, on which I had been a passenger, had been burnedat sea, and all on board had left her in the boats. 

What became of the other boats I do not know, but the one in which Ifound myself in company with five other men, all Cuban cigarmakers, wasnearly upset by a heavy wave during the second night we were out, andwe were all thrown into the sea. As none of the Cubans could swim, theywere all lost, but I succeeded in reaching the boat, which had righteditself, though half full of water. 

There was nothing in the boat but two oars which had not slipped out oftheir rowlocks, a leather scoop which had been tied to a thwart, andthe aforementioned water. 

Before morning I had nearly baled out the boat, and fortunate it wasfor me that up to the time of the upset we had had enough to eat anddrink, for otherwise I should not have had strength for that work andfor what followed. 

Not long after daybreak I sighted the _Sparhawk_, and immediately beganto make such signals as I could. The vessel appeared to be but a fewmiles distant, and I could not determine whether she was approaching meor going away from me. I could see no sign that my signals had beennoticed, and began frantically to row toward her. After a quarter of anhour of violent exertion, I did not appear to be much nearer to her;but, observing her more closely, I could see, even with my landsman'seyes, that something was the matter with her. Portions of her mast andrigging were gone, and one large sail at her stern appeared to befluttering in the wind. 

But it mattered not to me what had happened to her. She was a shipafloat, and I must reach her. Tired, hungry, and thirsty I rowed androwed, but it was not until long after noon that I reached her. Shemust have been much farther from me than I had supposed. 

With a great deal of trouble I managed to clamber on board, and foundthe ship deserted. I had suspected that this would be the case, for asI had drawn near I would have seen some sign that my approach wasnoticed had there been anybody on board to perceive it. But I foundfood and water, and when I was no longer hungry or thirsty I threwmyself in a berth, and slept until the sun was high the next day. 

I had now been on the derelict vessel for eight days. Why she had beendeserted and left to her fate I was not seaman enough to know. It istrue that her masts and rigging were in a doleful condition, but shedid not appear to be leaking, and rode well upon the sea. There wasplenty of food and water on board, and comfortable accommodations. Iafterwards learned that during the terrible cyclone which had overtakenher, she had been on her beam ends for an hour before the crew left herin the boats. 

For the first day or two of my sojourn on the _Sparhawk_ I was ashappy as a man could be under the circumstances. I thought myself tobe perfectly safe, and believed it could not be long before I would bepicked up. Of course I did not know my latitude and longitude, but Ifelt sure that the part of the Atlantic in which I was must befrequently crossed by steamers and other vessels. 

About the fourth day I began to feel uneasy. I had seen but threesails, and these had taken no notice of the signal which I had hung ashigh in the mizzen-mast as I had dared to climb. It was, indeed, nowonder that the signal had attracted no attention among the flutteringshreds of sails about it. 

I believe that one ship must have approached quite near me. I had beenbelow some time, looking over the books in the captain's room, and whenI came on deck I saw the stern of the ship, perhaps a mile or twodistant, and sailing away. Of course my shouts and wavings were of noavail. She had probably recognized the derelict _Sparhawk_ and hadmade a note of her present position, in order to report to thehydrographic office. 

The weather had been fair for the most part of the time, the seamoderately smooth, and when the wind was strong, the great sail on themizzen-mast, which remained hoisted and which I had tightened up alittle, acted after the manner of the long end of a weather-vane, andkept the ship's head to the sea. 

Thus it will be seen that I was not in a bad plight; but although Iappreciated this, I grew more and more troubled and uneasy. For severaldays I had not seen a sail, and if I should see one how could I attractattention? It must be that the condition of the vessel indicated thatthere was no one on board. Had I known that the _Sparhawk_ was alreadyentered upon the list of derelicts, I should have been hopeless indeed. 

At first I hung out a lantern as a night signal, but on the secondnight it was broken by the wind, and I could find only one other ingood condition. The ship's lights must have been blown away in thestorm, together with her boats and much of her rigging. I would nothang out the only lantern left me, for fear it should come to grief, and that I should be left in the dark at night in that great vessel. Had I known that I was on a vessel which had been regularly relegatedto the ranks of the forsaken, I should better have appreciated theimportance of allowing passing vessels to see that there was a light onboard the _Sparhawk_, and, therefore, in all probability a life. 

As day after day had passed, I had become more and more disheartened. It seemed to me that I was in a part of the great ocean avoided byvessels of every kind, that I was not in the track of anything goinganywhere. Every day there seemed to be less and less wind, and when Ihad been on board a week, the _Sparhawk_ was gently rising and fallingon a smooth sea in a dead calm. Hour after hour I swept the horizonwith the captain's glass, but only once did I see anything to encourageme. This was what appeared like a long line of black smoke against thedistant sky, which might have been left by a passing steamer; but, were this the case, I never saw the steamer. 

Happily, there were plenty of provisions on board of a plain kind. Ifound spirits and wine, and even medicines, and in the captain's roomthere were pipes, tobacco, and some books. 

This comparative comfort gave me a new and strange kind of despair. Ibegan to fear that I might become contented to live out my life alonein the midst of this lonely ocean. In that case, what sort of a manshould I become?

It was about 8. 30 by the captain's chronometer, when I came on deck onthe morning of the 25th of May. I had become a late riser, for what wasthe good of rising early when there was nothing to rise for? I hadscarcely raised my eyes above the rail of the ship when, to my utteramazement, I perceived a vessel not a mile away. The sight was sounexpected, and the surprise was so great, that my heart almost stoppedbeating as I stood and gazed at her. 

She was a medium-sized iron steamer, and lay upon the sea in a peculiarfashion, her head being much lower than her stern, the latter elevatedso much that I could see part of the blades of her motionlesspropeller. She presented the appearance of a ship which was just aboutto plunge, bow foremost, into the depths of the ocean, or which hadjust risen, stern foremost, from those depths. 

With the exception of her position, and the fact that no smoke-stackwas visible, she seemed, to my eyes, to be in good enough trim. She hadprobably been in collision with something, and her forward compartmentshad filled. Deserted by her crew, she had become a derelict, and, drifting about in her desolation, had fallen in with another derelictas desolate as herself. The fact that I was on board the _Sparhawk_did not, in my eyes, make that vessel any the less forsaken andforlorn. 

The coming of this steamer gave me no comfort. Two derelicts, in theirsaddening effects upon the spirits, would be twice as bad as one, and, more than that, there was danger, should a storm arise, that they woulddash into each other and both go to the bottom. Despairing as I hadbecome, I did not want to go to the bottom. 

As I gazed upon the steamer I could see that she was graduallyapproaching me. There was a little breeze this morning, and so much ofher hull stood out of the water that it caught a good deal of the wind. The _Sparhawk_, on the contrary, was but little affected by the breeze, for apart from the fact that the great sail kept her head always to thewind, she was heavily laden with sugar and molasses and sat deep in thewater. The other was not coming directly toward me, but would probablypass at a considerable distance. I did not at all desire that sheshould come near the _Sparhawk_. 

Suddenly my heart gave a jump. I could distinctly see on the stern ofthe steamer the flutter of something white. It was waved! Somebody mustbe waving it!

Hitherto I had not thought of the spyglass, for with my naked eyes Icould see all that I cared to see of the vessel, but now I dashed belowto get it. When I brought it to bear upon the steamer I saw plainlythat the white object was waved by some one, and that some one was awoman. I could see above the rail the upper part of her body, heruncovered head, her uplifted arm wildly waving. 

Presently the waving ceased, and then the thought suddenly struck methat, receiving no response, she had in despair given up signalling. Cursing my stupidity, I jerked my handkerchief from my pocket, and, climbing a little way into the rigging, I began to wave it madly. Almost instantly her waving recommenced. I soon stopped signalling, andso did she. No more of that was needed. I sprang to the deck and tookup the glass. 

The woman was gone, but in a few moments she reappeared armed with aglass. This action filled me with amazement. Could it be possible thatthe woman was alone on the steamer, and that there was no one else tosignal and to look out? The thing was incredible, and yet, if therewere men on board, why did they not show themselves? And why did notone of them wave the signal and use the glass?

The steamer was steadily but very slowly nearing the _Sparhawk_, whenthe woman removed the glass and stood up waist high above the rail ofthe steamer Now I could see her much better; I fancied I could almostdiscern her features. She was not old; she was well shaped; her bluishgray dress fitted her snugly. Holding the rail with one hand she stoodup very erect, which must have been somewhat difficult, considering theinclination of the deck. For a moment I fancied I had seen or knownsome one whose habit it was to stand up very erect as this woman stoodupon the steamer. The notion was banished as absurd. 

Wondering what I should do, what instant action I should take, I laiddown my glass, and as I did so the woman immediately put up hers. Herobject was plain enough; she wanted to observe me, which she could notwell do when a view of my face was obstructed by the glass and myoutstretched arms. I was sorry that I had not sooner given her thatopportunity, and for some moments I stood and faced her, waving my hatas I did so. 

I was wild with excitement. What should I do? What could I do? Therewere no boats on the _Sparhawk_, and what had become of the one inwhich I reached her I did not know. Thinking of nothing but getting onboard the vessel, I had forgotten to make the boat fast, and when Iwent to look for it a day or two afterward it was gone. On the steamer, however, I saw a boat hanging from davits near the stern. There washope in that. 

But there might be no need for a boat. Under the influence of thegentle breeze, the steamer was steadily drawing nearer to the_Sparhawk_. Perhaps they might touch each other. But this idea was soondispelled, for I could see that the wind would carry the steamer pastme, although, perhaps, at no great distance. Then my hopes sprang backto the boat hanging from her davits. 

But before these hopes could take shape the woman and her glass diedout of sight behind the rail of the steamer. In about a minute shereappeared, stood up erect, and applied a speaking-trumpet to hermouth. It was possible that a high, shrill voice might have been heardfrom one vessel to the other, but it was plain enough that this was awoman who took no useless chances. I, too, must be prepared to hail aswell as to be hailed. Quickly I secured a speaking-trumpet from thecaptain's room, and stood up at my post. 

Across the water came the monosyllable, "Ho!" and back I shouted, "Hallo!"

Then came these words, as clear and distinct as any I ever heard in mylife: "Are you Mr. Rockwell?"

This question almost took away my senses. Was this reality? or had aspirit risen from this lonely ocean to summon me somewhere? Was thisthe way people died? Rockwell? Yes, my name was Rockwell. At least ithad been. I was sure of nothing now. 

Again came the voice across the sea. "Why don't you answer?" it said. 

I raised my trumpet to my lips. At first I could make no sound, but, controlling my agitation a little, I shouted: "Yes!"

Instantly the woman disappeared, and for ten minutes I saw her nomore. During that time I did nothing but stand and look at the steamer, which was moving more slowly than before, for the reason that the windwas dying away. She was now, however, nearly opposite me, and so nearthat if the wind should cease entirely, conversation might be heldwithout the aid of trumpets. I earnestly hoped this might be the case, for I had now recovered the possession of my senses, and greatlydesired to hear the natural voice of that young woman on the steamer. 

As soon as she reappeared I made a trial of the power of my voice. Laying down the trumpet I shouted: "Who are you?"

Back came the answer, clear, high, and perfectly audible: "I am MaryPhillips. "

Mary Phillips! it seemed to me that I remembered the name. I wascertainly familiar with the erect attitude, and I fancied I recognizedthe features of the speaker. But this was all; I could not place her. 

Before I could say anything she hailed again: "Don't you remember me?"she cried, "I lived in Forty-second Street. "

The middle of a wild and desolate ocean and a voice from Forty-secondStreet! What manner of conjecture was this? I clasped my head in myhands and tried to think. Suddenly a memory came to me: a wild, surging, raging memory. 

"With what person did you live in Forty-second Street?" I yelled acrossthe water. 

"Miss Bertha Nugent, " she replied. 

A fire seemed to blaze within me. Standing on tiptoe I fairlyscreamed: "Bertha Nugent! Where is she?"

The answer came back: "Here!" And when I heard it my legs gave waybeneath me and I fell to the deck. I must have remained for someminutes half lying, half seated, on the deck. I was nearly stupefied bythe statement I had heard. 

I will now say a few words concerning Miss Bertha Nugent. She was alady whom I had known well in New York, and who, for more than a year, I had loved well, although I never told her so. Whether or not shesuspected my passion was a question about which I had never been ableto satisfy myself. Sometimes I had one opinion; sometimes another. Before I had taken any steps to assure myself positively in regard tothis point, Miss Nugent went abroad with a party of friends, and foreight months I had neither seen nor heard from her. 

During that time I had not ceased to berate myself for my inexcusableprocrastination. As she went away without knowing my feelings towardher, of course there could be no correspondence. Whatever she mighthave suspected, or whatever she might have expected, there was nothingbetween us. 

But on my part my love for Bertha had grown day by day. Hating the cityand even the country where I had seen her and loved her and where nowshe was not, I travelled here and there, and during the winter went tothe West Indies. There I had remained until the weather had become toowarm for a longer sojourn, and then I had taken passage in the_Thespia_ for New York. I knew that Bertha would return to the city inthe spring or summer, and I wished to be there when she arrived. If, when I met her, I found her free, there would be no more delay. My lifethenceforth would be black or white. And now here she was near me in ahalf-wrecked steamer on the wide Atlantic, with no companion, as Iknew, but her maid, Mary Phillips. 

I now had a very distinct recollection of Mary Phillips. In my visitsto the Nugent household in Forty-second Street I had frequently seenthis young woman. Two or three times when Miss Nugent had not been athome, I had had slight interviews with her. She always treated me witha certain cordiality, and I had some reason to think that if MissNugent really suspected my feelings, Mary Phillips had given her somehints on the subject. 

Mary Phillips was an exceedingly bright and quick young woman, and I amquite sure that she could see into the state of a man's feelings aswell as any one. Bertha had given me many instances of her maid'sfacilities for adapting herself to circumstances, and I was nowthankful from the bottom of my heart that Bertha had this woman withher. 

I was recovering from the stupefaction into which my sudden emotionshad plunged me, when a hail came across the water, first in MaryPhillips's natural voice, and then through a speaking-trumpet. I stoodup and answered. 

"I was wondering, " cried Mary Phillips, "what had become of you; Ithought perhaps you had gone down to breakfast. " In answer I called toher to tell me where Miss Nugent was, how she was, how she came to bein this surprising situation, and how many people there were on boardthe steamer. 

"Miss Nugent has not been at all well, " answered Mary, "but shebrightened up as soon as I told her you were here. She cannot come ondeck very well, because the pitch of the ship makes the stairs sosteep. But I am going to give her her breakfast now, and after she haseaten something she may be stronger, and I will try to get her ondeck. "

Brightened up when she knew I was near! That was glorious! Thatbrightened up creation. 

By this time I needed food also, but I did not remain below to eat it. I brought my breakfast on deck, keeping my eyes all the time fixed uponBertha's steamer. The distance between us did not seem to have varied. How I longed for a little breeze that might bring us together! Berthawas on that vessel, trusting, perhaps, entirely to me: and what could Ido if some breeze did not bring us together? I looked about forsomething on which I might float to her; but if I made a raft I was notsure that I could steer or propel it, and I might float away and becomea third derelict. Once I thought of boldly springing into the water, and swimming to her; but the distance was considerable, my swimmingpowers were only moderate, and there might be sharks. The risk was toogreat. But surely we would come together. Even if no kind wind arose, there was that strange attraction which draws to each other the bubbleson a cup of tea. If bubbles, why not ships?

It was not long before nearly one-half of Mary Phillips appeared abovethe rail. "Miss Nugent aas come on deck, " she cried, "and she wants tosee you. She can't stand up very long, because everything is sosliding. "

Before my trembling lips could frame an answer, she had bobbed out ofsight, and presently reappeared supporting another person, and thatother person was Bertha Nugent. 

I could discern her features perfectly. She was thinner and paler thanwhen I had last seen her, but her beauty was all there. The same smilewhich I had seen so often was upon her face as she waved herhandkerchief to me. I waved my hat in return, but I tried two or threetimes before I could speak loud enough for her to hear me. Then I threwinto my words all the good cheer and hope that I could. 

She did not attempt to answer, but smiled more brightly than before. Her expression seemed to indicate that, apart from the extraordinarypleasure of meeting a friend on this waste of waters, she was glad thatI was that friend. 

"She can't speak loud enough for you to hear her, " called out MaryPhillips, "but she says that now you are here she thinks everythingwill be all right. She wants to know if you are alone on your ship, andif you can come to us. "

I explained my situation, but said I did not doubt but the two shipswould gradually drift together. "Is there no one to lower your boat?" Iasked. 

"No one but me, " answered Mary, "and I don't believe I am up to thatsort of thing. Miss Nugent says I must not touch it for fear I mightfall overboard. "

"Do you mean to say, " I cried, "that there is nobody but you two onboard that steamer?"

"No other living soul!" said Mary, "and I'll tell you how it allhappened. "

Then she told their story. The friends with whom Miss Nugent hadtravelled had determined to go to Egypt, but as she did not wish toaccompany them, she had remained in Spain and Algiers during the earlyspring, and, eleven days before, she and Mary Phillips had started fromMarseilles for home in the steamer _La Fidélité_. Five days ago, thesteamer had collided in the night with something, Mary did not knowwhat, and her front part was filled with water. Everybody was sure thatthe vessel would soon sink, and the captain, crew, and passengers--allFrench--went away in boats. 

"Is it possible" I yelled, "that they deserted you two women?"

Mary Phillips replied that this was not the case. They had beenimplored to go in the boats, but the night was dark, the sea was roughand pitchy, and she was sure the boat would upset before they had gonea hundred yards. Miss Nugent and she both agreed that it was much saferto remain on a large vessel like the _Fidélité_, even if she was halffull of water, than to go out on the dark and stormy water in amiserable little shell of a boat. The captain got down on his knees andimplored them to go, but they were resolute. He then declared that hewould force them into the craft, but Mary Phillips declared that if hetried that, she would shoot him; she had a pistol ready. Then, whenthey had all got in the boats but the captain, two of the men jumped onboard again, threw their arms around him and carried him off, vowingthat he should not lose his life on account of a pair of senselessAmericans. A boat would be left, the men said, which they might use ifthey chose; but, of course, this was more a piece of sentiment thananything else. 

"And now you see, " cried Mary Phillips, "I was right, and they werewrong. This steamer has not sunk; and I have no manner of doubt thatevery soul who went away in those boats is now at the bottom of thesea. "

This was indeed a wonderful story; and the fact that Bertha Nugent wason board a derelict vessel and should happen to fall in with me onboard of another, was one of those events which corroborate the triteand hackneyed adage, that truth is stranger than fiction. 

It was surprising how plainly I could hear Mary Phillips across thesmooth, still water. The ships did not now seem to be moving at all;but soon they would be nearer, and then I could talk with Bertha. Andsoon after (it must be so) I would be with her. 

I inquired if they had food and whatever else they needed; and MaryPhillips replied that, with the exception of the slanting position ofthe ship, they were very comfortable; that she did the cooking; andthat Miss Nugent said that they lived a great deal better than when theship's cook cooked. 

Mary also informed me that she had arranged a very nice couch for MissNugent on the afterdeck; that she was lying there now, and felt better;that she wanted to know which I thought the safer ship of the two; andthat whenever a little wind arose, and the vessels were blown nearereach other, she wished to get up and talk to me herself. 

I answered that I thought both the ships were safe enough, and shouldbe delighted to talk with Miss Nugent, but in my heart I could notbelieve that a vessel with her bow as low as that of the _Fidélité_could be safe in bad weather, to say nothing of the possibility of, atany time, the water bursting into other compartments of the ship. The_Sparhawk_ I believed to be in much better condition. Despite the factthat she was utterly helpless as far as sailing qualities wereconcerned, the greater part of her masts and rigging being in awretched condition, and her rudder useless, she did not appear to bedamaged. I had no reason to believe that she leaked, and she floatedwell, although, as I have said, she lay rather deep in the water. 

If the thing were possible, I intended to get Bertha on board the_Sparhawk_, where there was hope that we could all remain safely untilwe were rescued. With this purpose in view, the moment Mary Phillipsdisappeared, I went below and prepared the captain's cabin for Berthaand her maid. I carried to the forward part of the vessel all thepipes, bottles, and glasses, and such other things as were not suitablefor a lady's apartment, and thoroughly aired the cabin, making it asneat and comfortable as circumstances permitted. The very thought ofoffering hospitality to Bertha was a joy. 

I proposed to myself several plans to be used in various contingencies. If the two vessels approached near enough, I would throw a line to _LaFidélité_, and Mary Phillips would make it fast, I knew. Then with awindlass I might draw the two vessels together. Then I would spring onboard the steamer, and when I had transferred Bertha and Mary to the_Sparhawk_, would cut loose _La Fidélité_ to drift where she pleased. 

It was possible that I might convey from one vessel to the other somearticles of luxury or necessity, but on this point I would not come toany definite conclusion. I would consult Mary Phillips on the subject. 

Another plan was that if we did not approach very close, I wouldendeavor to throw a long, light line to the steamer, and Mary Phillipswould attach it to the boat which hung from the davits. Into this shewould put a pair of oars and lower it as well as she could; then Iwould haul it to the _Sparhawk_, row over to the steamer, and transferBertha and Mary to my vessel. It was possible that we should not haveto be very near each other for me to carry out this plan. Had I been aseaman, I might have thought of some other plan better than these. ButI was not a seaman. 

I did not waste any time in the cabin, although I was very desirous tomake it as pleasant as possible for the reception of Bertha, but when Ireturned to the deck I was astonished to find that the steamer wasfarther away than it had been when I went below. There was a slightbreeze from the east, which had nearly turned the _Sparhawk_ about withher bow to the wind, but was gently carrying _La Fidélité_ before it. 

I seized the speaking-trumpet, and with all my power, hailed thesteamer; and in return there came to me a single sound, the sound ofthe vowel O. I could see two handkerchiefs fluttering upon the stern. In ten minutes these were scarcely discernible. 

Half-crazed, I stood and gazed, and gazed, and gazed at the distantsteamer. The wind died away, and I could perceive that she was notbecoming more distant. Then I began to hope. Another wind might springup which would bring her back. 

And in an hour or two the other wind did spring up; I felt it in myface, and slowly the _Sparhawk_ turned her bow toward it, and, enrapturing sight! the steamer, with my Bertha on board, began to moveslowly back to me! The wind which was now blowing came from thesouthwest, and _La Fidélité_, which before had lain to the southward ofthe _Sparhawk_, was passing to the north of my vessel. Nearer andnearer she came, and my whole soul was engaged in the hope that shemight not pass too far north. 

But I soon saw that unless the wind changed, the steamer would probablypass within hailing distance. 

Soon I could see Mary Phillips on deck, speaking-trumpet in hand; andseizing my trumpet, I hailed when as I thought we were near enough. Ieagerly inquired after Bertha, and the high voice of Mary Phillips cameacross the water, telling me that Miss Nugent was not feeling at allwell. This uncertain state of affairs was making her feel very nervous. "Can she come on deck?" I cried. "Can she use a speaking-trumpet? If Icould talk to her, I might encourage her. "

"She needs it, " answered Mary, "but she cannot speak through thetrumpet; she tried it, and it made her head ache. She is here on deck, and I am going to help her stand up as soon as we get nearer. Perhapsshe may be able to speak to you. "

The two vessels were now near enough for a high-pitched conversationwithout the assistance of trumpets, and Mary Phillips assisted Berthato the side of the steamer, where I could distinctly see her. I shoutedas hearty a greeting as ever was sent across the water, bidding her tokeep up a good heart, for help of some kind must surely come to us. Shetried to answer me, but her voice was not strong enough. Then she shookher head, by which I understood that she did not agree with me in myhopeful predictions. I called back to her that in all this driftingabout the two vessels must certainly come together, and then, with theassistance of the steamer's boat, we could certainly devise some way ofgetting out of this annoying plight. She smiled, apparently at themildness of this expression, and again shook her head. She now seemedtired, for her position by the rail was not an easy one to maintain, and her maid assisted her to her couch on the deck. Then stood, up MaryPhillips, speaking loud and promptly:--

"She has a message for you, " she said, "which she wanted to give to youherself, but she cannot do it. She thinks--but I tell her it is of nouse thinking that way--that we are bound to be lost. You may be savedbecause your ship seems in a better condition than ours, and she doesnot believe that the two vessels will ever come together; so she wantsme to tell you that if you get home and she never does, that she wishesher share in the Forty-second Street house to go to her married sister, and to be used for the education of the children. She doesn't want itdivided up in the ordinary way, because each one will get so little, and it will do no good. Do you think that will be a good will?"

"Don't speak of wills!" I shouted; "there is no need of a will. Shewill get home in safety and attend to her own affairs. "

"I think so, too, " cried Mary Phillips; "but I had to tell you what shesaid. And now she wants to know if you have any message to send to yourparents, for we might blow off somewhere and be picked up, while thismight not happen to you. But I don't believe in that sort of thing anymore than in the other. "

I shouted back my disbelief in the necessity of any such messages, whenMary Phillips seized her trumpet and cried that she did not hear me. 

Alas! the breeze was still blowing, and the steamer was moving away tothe northeast. Through my trumpet I repeated my words, and then Marysaid something which I could not hear. The wind was against her. Ishouted to her to speak louder, and she must have screamed with all herforce, but I could only hear some words to the effect that we werebound to come together again, and she waved her handkerchief cheerily. 

Then the steamer moved farther and farther away, and speaking-trumpetswere of no avail. I seized the glass, and watched _La Fidélité_, untilshe was nothing but a black spot upon the sea. 

The wind grew lighter, and finally died away, and the black spotremained upon the horizon. I did not take my eyes from it until nightdrew on and blotted it out. I had not thought of advising Mary Phillipsto hang out a light, and she was probably not sufficiently accustomedto the ways of ships to think of doing it herself, although there couldbe no doubt that there were lanterns suitable for the purpose on thesteamer. Had there been a light upon that vessel, I should have watchedthe glimmer all night. As it was, I slept upon the deck, wakingfrequently to peer out into the darkness, and to listen for a hail froma speaking-trumpet. 

In the morning there was a black spot upon the horizon. I fancied thatit was a little nearer than when I last saw it; but in the course ofthe forenoon it faded away altogether. Then despair seized upon me, andI cared not whether I lived or died. I forgot to eat, and threw myselfupon the deck, where I remained for several hours, upbraiding myselffor my monstrous, unpardonable folly in neglecting the opportunitieswhich were now lost. 

Over and over again I told myself bitterly, that when I had been nearenough to the vessel which bore Bertha Nugent to converse with MaryPhillips without the aid of a speaking-trumpet, I should have tried toreach that vessel, no matter what the danger or the difficulties. Ishould have launched a raft--I should have tried to swim--I should havedone something. 

And more than that, even had it been impossible for me to reach thesteamer, I should have endeavored to reach Bertha's heart. I shouldhave told her that I loved her. Whether she were lost or I were lost, or both of us, she should have known I loved her. She might not havebeen able to answer me, but she could have heard me. For that terriblemistake, that crime, there was no pardon. Now every chance was gone. What reason was there to suppose that these two derelicts ever againwould drift together?

In the afternoon I rose languidly and looked about me. I saw somethingon the horizon, and seizing the glass, I knew it to be _La Fidélité_. Icould recognize the slant of the hull, of the masts. 

Now hope blazed up again. If she were nearer, she must come nearerstill. I recovered my ordinary state of mind sufficiently to know thatI was hungry, and that I must eat to be strong and ready for what mighthappen. 

Upon one thing I was determined. If Bertha should ever again be broughtnear enough to hear me, I would tell her that I loved her. The objectof life, however much of it might be left me, should be to make Berthaknow that I loved her. If I swam toward the vessel, or floated on aplank, I must get near enough to tell her that I loved her. 

But there was no wind, and the apparent size of the steamer did notincrease. This was a region or season of calms or fitful winds. Duringthe rest of the day the distant vessel continued to be a black speckupon the smooth and gently rolling sea. Again I spent the night ondeck, but I did not wake to listen or watch. I was worn out and sleptheavily. 

The day was bright when I was awakened by a chilly feeling: a strongbreeze was blowing over me. I sprang to my feet. There was quite aheavy sea; the vessel was rolling and pitching beneath me, and not faraway, not more than a mile, _La Fidélité_ was coming straight towardme. Lightly laden, and with a great part of her hull high out of water, the high wind was driving her before it, while my vessel, her bow tothe breeze, was moving at a much slower rate. 

As I looked at the rapidly approaching steamer, it seemed as if shecertainly must run into the _Sparhawk_. But for that I cared not. Allthat I now hoped for was that Bertha should come to me. Whether onevessel sank or the other, or whether both went down together, I shouldbe with Bertha, I would live or die with her. Mary Phillips stood fullin view on the stern of the oncoming steamer, a speaking-trumpet inher hand. I could now see that it was not probable that the two vesselswould collide. The steamer would pass me, but probably very near. Before I could make up my mind what I should do in this momentousemergency, Mary Phillips hailed me. 

"When we get near enough, " she shouted, "throw me a rope. I'll tie itto the boat and cut it loose. "

Wildly I looked about me for a line which I might throw. Cordage therewas in abundance, but it was broken or fastened to something, or tooheavy to handle. I remembered, however, seeing a coil of small ropebelow, and hastening down, I brought it on deck, took the coil in myright hand, and stood ready to hurl it when the proper moment shouldcome. 

That moment came quickly. The steamer was not a hundred feet from mewhen I reached the deck. It passed me on the port side. 

"Be ready!" cried Mary Phillips, the instant she saw me. It was not nownecessary to use a trumpet. 

"Throw as soon as I get opposite to you!" she cried. 

"Is Bertha well?" I shouted. 

"Yes!" said Mary Phillips; "but what you've got to do is to throw thatrope. Give it a good heave. Throw now!"

The two vessels were not fifty feet apart. With all my strength Ihurled the coil of rope. The steamer's stern was above me, and I aimedhigh. The flying coil went over the deck of _La Fidélité_, but in myexcitement I forgot to grasp tightly the other end of it, and the wholerope flew from me and disappeared beyond the steamer. Stupefied by thisdeplorable accident, I staggered backward and a heave of the vesselthrew me against the rail. Recovering myself, I glared about foranother rope, but of course there was none. 

Then came a shout from Mary Phillips. But she had already passed me, and as I was to the windward of her I did not catch her words. As Iremembered her appearance, she seemed to be tearing her hair. In aflash I thought of my resolution. Rushing to the rail, I put thetrumpet to my mouth. The wind would carry my words to her if it wouldnot bring hers to me. 

"Tell Bertha to come on deck!" I shouted. Mary Phillips looked at me, but did not move. I wished her to rush below and bring up Bertha. Notan instant was to be lost. But she did not move. 

"Tell her I love her!" I yelled through the trumpet. "Tell her that Ilove her now and shall love her forever. Tell her I love her, no matterwhat happens. Tell her I love her, I love her, I love her!" And this Icontinued to scream until it was plain I was no longer heard. Then Ithrew down my useless trumpet and seized the glass. Madly I scanned thesteamer. No sign of Bertha was to be seen. Mary Phillips was there, andnow she waved her handkerchief. At all events she forgave me. At such aterrible moment what could one do but forgive?

I watched, and watched, and watched, but no figure but that of MaryPhillips appeared upon the steamer, and at last I could not evendistinguish that. Now I became filled with desperate fury. I determinedto sail after Bertha and overtake her. A great sail was flapping fromone of my masts, and I would put my ship about, and the strong windshould carry me to Bertha. 

I knew nothing of sailing, but even if I had known, all my effortswould have been useless. I rushed to the wheel and tried to move it, pulling it this way and that, but the rudder was broken or jammed, --Iknow not what had happened to it. I seized the ropes attached to theboom of the sail, I pulled, I jerked, I hauled; I did not know what Iwas doing. I did nothing. At last, in utter despair and exhaustion, Ifell to the deck. 

But before the wind had almost died away, and in the afternoon the seawas perfectly calm, and when the sun set I could plainly see thesteamer on the faroff edge of the glistening water. During the wholeof the next day I saw her. She neither disappeared nor came nearer. Sometimes I was in the depths of despair; sometimes I began to hope alittle; but I had one great solace in the midst of my misery--Berthaknew that I loved her. I was positively sure that my words had beenheard. 

It was a strange manner in which I had told my love. I had roared myburning words of passion through a speaking-trumpet, and I had toldthem not to Bertha herself, but to Mary Phillips. But the manner was ofno importance. Bertha now knew that I loved her. That was everything tome. 

As long as light remained I watched _La Fidélité_ through the glass, but I could see nothing but a black form with a slanting upper line. She was becalmed as I was. Why could she not have been becalmed nearme? I dared not let my mind rest upon the opportunities I had lost whenshe had been becalmed near me. During the night the wind must haverisen again, for the _Sparhawk_ rolled and dipped a good deal, troubling my troubled slumbers. Very early in the morning I wasawakened by what sounded like a distant scream. I did not know whetherit was a dream or not; but I hurried on deck. The sun had not risen, but as I looked about I saw something which took away my breath; whichmade me wonder if I were awake, or dreaming, or mad. 

It was Bertha's steamer within hailing distance!

Above the rail I saw the head and body of Mary Phillips, who wasscreaming through the trumpet. I stood and gazed in petrifiedamazement. 

I could not hear what Mary Phillips said. Perhaps my senses werebenumbed. Perhaps the wind was carrying away her words. That it wasblowing from me toward her soon became too evident. The steamer wasreceding from the _Sparhawk_. The instant I became aware of this mypowers of perception and reasoning returned to me with a burning flash. 

Bertha was going away from me--she was almost gone. 

Snatching my trumpet, I leaned over the rail and shouted with all mymight: "Did you hear me say I loved her? Did you tell her?"

Mary Phillips had put down her trumpet, but now she raised it again toher mouth, and I could see that she was going to make a great effort. The distance between us had increased considerably since I came ondeck, and she had to speak against the wind. 

With all the concentrated intensity which high-strung nerves couldgive to a man who is trying to hear the one thing to him worth hearingin the world, I listened. Had a wild beast fixed his claws and teethinto me at the moment I would not have withdrawn my attention. 

I heard the voice of Mary Phillips, faint, far away. I heard the words, "Yes, but--" and the rest was lost. She must have known from my aspectthat her message did not reach me, for she tried again and again tomake herself heard. 

The wind continued to blow, and the steamer continued to float andfloat and float away. A wind had come up in the night. It had blownBertha near me; perhaps it had blown her very near me. She had notknown it, and I had not known it. Mary Phillips had not known it untilit was too late, and now that wind had blown her past me and wasblowing her away. For a time there was a flutter of a handkerchief, but only one handkerchief, and then _La Fidélité_, with Bertha onboard, was blown away until she disappeared, and I never saw heragain. 

All night I sat upon the deck of the _Sparhawk_, thinking, wondering, and conjecturing. I was in a strange state of mind. I did not wonder orconjecture whether Bertha's vessel would come back to me again; I didnot think of what I should do if it did come back. I did not think ofwhat I should do if it never came back. All night I thought, wondered, and conjectured what Mary Phillips had meant by the word "but. "

It was plain to me what "yes" had meant. My message had been heard, andI knew Mary Phillips well enough to feel positively sure that havingreceived such a message under such circumstances she had given it toBertha. Therefore I had positive proof that Bertha knew that I lovedher. But what did the "but" mean?

It seemed to me that there were a thousand things that this word mightmean. It might mean that she was already engaged to be married. Itmight mean that she had vowed never to marry. It might mean that shedisapproved of such words at such a time. I cannot repeat the tenth ofthe meanings which I thought I might attach to this word. But the worstthing that it could purport, the most terrible signification of all, recurred to me over and over again. It might mean that Bertha could notreturn my affection. She knew that I loved her, but she could not loveme. 

In the morning I ate something and then lay down upon the deck tosleep. It was well that I should do this, I thought, because if Berthacame near me again in the daytime Mary Phillips would hail me if I werenot awake. All night long I would watch, and, as there was a moon, Iwould see Bertha's vessel if it came again. 

I did watch all that afternoon and all that night, and during mywatching I never ceased to wonder and conjecture what Mary Phillipsmeant by that word "but. "

About the middle of the next day I saw in the distance something uponthe water. I first thought it a bit of spray, for it was white, but asthere were now no waves there could be no spray. With the glass I couldonly see that it was something white shining in the sun. It might bethe glistening body of a dead fish. After a time it became plainer tome. It was such a little object that the faint breezes whichoccasionally arose had more influence upon the _Sparhawk_ than uponit, and so I gradually approached it. 

In about an hour I made out that it was something round, with somethingwhite raised above it, and then I discovered that it was alife-preserver, which supported a little stick, to which a white flag, probably a handkerchief, was attached. Then I saw that on thelife-preserver lay a little yellow mass. 

Now I knew what it was that I saw. It was a message from Bertha. MaryPhillips had devised the means of sending it. Bertha had sent it. 

The life-preserver was a circular one, filled with air. In the centreof this, Mary, by means of many strings, had probably secured a stickin an upright position; she had then fastened a handkerchief to the topof the stick. Bertha had written a message and Mary had wrapped it in apiece of oiled silk and fastened it to the life-preserver. She hadthen lowered this contrivance to the surface of the water, hoping thatit would float to me or I would float to it. 

I was floating to it. It contained the solution of all my doubts, theanswer to all my conjectures. It was Bertha's reply to my declarationof love, and I was drifting slowly but surely toward it. Soon I wouldknow. 

But after a time the course of the _Sparhawk_ or the course of themessage changed. I drifted to the north. Little by little my coursedeviated from the line on which I might have met the message. At last Isaw that I should never meet it. When I became convinced of this, myfirst impulse was to spring overboard and swim for it. But I restrainedthis impulse, as I had restrained others like it. If Bertha came back, I must be ready to meet her. I must run no risks, for her sake and mysake. She must find me on the _Sparhawk_ if she should come back. Shehad left me and she had come back; she might come back again. Even toget her message I must not run the risk of missing her. And so withyearning heart and perhaps tearful eyes I watched the little craftdisappear and become another derelict. 

I do not know how many days and nights I watched and waited forBertha's ship and wondered and conjectured what Mary Phillips meant by"but. " I was awake so much and ate so little and thought so hard that Ilost strength, both of mind and body. All I asked of my body was tolook out for Bertha's steamer, and all that I asked of my mind was toresolve the meaning of the last words I had heard from that vessel. 

One day, I do not know whether it was in the morning or afternoon, Iraised my head, and on the horizon I saw a steamer. Quick as a flash myglass was brought to bear upon it. In the next minute my arms dropped, the telescope fell into my lap, my head dropped. It was not Bertha'ssteamer; it was an ordinary steamer with its deck parallel with thewater and a long line of smoke coming out of its funnel. The shock ofthe disappointment was very great. 

When I looked up again I could see that the steamer was headed directlytoward me, and was approaching with considerable rapidity. But thisfact affected me little. It would not bring me Bertha. It would notbring me any message from her. It was an ordinary vessel of traffic. Itook no great interest in it, one way or the other. 

Before long it was so near that I could see people on board. I aroseand looked over the rail. Then some one on the steamer fired a gun or apistol. As this seemed to be a signal, I waved my hat. Then the steamerbegan to move more slowly, and soon lay to and lowered a boat. 

In ten minutes three men stood on the deck of the _Sparhawk_. Some onehad hailed me in English to lower something. I had lowered nothing; buthere they were on deck. They asked me a lot of questions, but Ianswered none of them. 

"Is your captain with you?" I said. They answered that he was not, that he was on the steamer. "Then take me to him, " said I. 

"Of course we will, " said their leader, with a smile. And they took me. 

I was received on the steamer with much cordiality and muchquestioning, but to none of it did I pay any attention. I addressed thecaptain. 

"Sir, " said I, "I will be obliged to you if you will immediately cruiseto the southwest and pick up for me a life-preserver with a littlewhite flag attached to it. It also carries a message for me, wrapped upin a piece of oiled silk. It is very important that I should obtainthat message without delay. "

The captain laughed. "Why, man!" said he, "what are you thinking of? Doyou suppose that I can go out of my course to cruise after alife-preserver?"

I looked at him with scorn. "Unmanly fiend!" said I. 

Another officer now approached, whom I afterward knew to be the ship'sdoctor. 

"Come, come now, " he said, "don't let us have any hard words. Thecaptain is only joking. Of course he will steam after yourlife-preserver, and no doubt will come up with it very soon. In themean-time you must come below and have something to eat and drink andrest yourself. "

Satisfied with this assurance, I went below, was given food andmedicine, and was put into a berth, where I remained for four days in ahalf-insensible condition, knowing nothing--caring for nothing. 

When I came on deck again I was very weak, but I had regained mysenses, and the captain and I talked rationally together. I told himhow I had come on board the _Sparhawk_, and how I had fallen in withthe _La Fidélité_, half wrecked, having on board only a dear friend ofmine. In answer to his questions I described the details of thecommunications between the two vessels, and could not avoid mentioningthe wild hopes and heart-breaking disappointments of that terribletime. And, somewhat to my languid surprise, the captain asked noquestions regarding these subjects. I finished by thanking him forhaving taken me from the wreck, but added that I felt like afalse-hearted coward for having deserted upon the sea the woman Iloved, who now would never know my fate nor I hers. 

"Don't be too sure of that, " said the captain, "for you are about tohear from her now. "

I gazed at him in blank amazement. "Yes, " said the captain, "I haveseen her, and she has sent me to you. But I see you are all knockedinto a heap, and I will make the story as short as I can. This vesselof mine is bound from Liverpool to La Guayra, and on the way down wecalled at Lisbon. On the morning of the day I was to sail from there, there came into port the _Glanford_, a big English merchantman, fromBuenos Ayres to London. I knew her skipper, Captain Guy Chesters, ashandsome a young English sailor as ever stood upon a deck. 

"In less than an hour from the time we dropped anchor, Captain Guy wason my vessel. He was on the lookout, he said, for some craft bound forSouth America or the West Indies, and was delighted to find me there. Then he told me that, ten days before, he had taken two ladies from ahalf-wrecked French steamer, and that they had prayed and besought himto cruise about and look for the _Sparhawk_, a helpless ship, with afriend of theirs alone on board. 

"'You know, ' said Captain Guy to me, 'I couldn't do that, for I'd losttime enough already, and the wind was very light and variable; so all Icould do was to vow to the ladies that when we got to Lisbon we'd bebound to find a steamer going south, and that she could easily keep alookout for the _Sparhawk_, and take off the friend. ' 'That was apretty big contract you marked out for the steamer going south, ' Isaid, 'and as for the _Sparhawk_, she's an old derelict, and I sightedher on my voyage north, and sent in a report of her position, and therecouldn't have been anybody on board of her then. ' 'Can't say, ' saidCaptain Guy; 'from what I can make out, this fellow must have boardedher a good while after she was abandoned, and seems to have been lyinglow after that. ' Was that so, sir? Did you lie low?"

I made no answer. My whole soul was engaged in the comprehension of thefact that Bertha had sent for me. "Go on!" I cried. 

"All right, " said he. "I ought not to keep you waiting. I promisedCaptain Guy I would keep a lookout for the _Sparhawk_, and take you offif you were on board. I promised the quicker, because my conscience wasgrowling at me for having, perhaps, passed a fellow-being on anabandoned vessel. But I had heard of the _Sparhawk_ before. I hadsighted her, and so didn't keep a very sharp lookout for living beingsaboard. Then Captain Guy took me on board his ship to see the twoladies, for they wanted to give me instructions themselves. And I tellyou what, sir, you don't often see two prettier women on board ship, nor anywhere else, for that matter. Captain Guy told me that before Isaw them. He was in great spirits about his luck. He is the luckiestfellow in the merchant service. Now, if I had picked up two people thatway, it would have been two old men. But he gets a couple of lovelyladies; that's the way the world goes. The ladies made me pretty nighswear that I'd never set foot on shore till I found you. I would havebeen glad enough to stay there all day and make promises to thosewomen; but my time was short, and I had to leave them to Captain Guy. So I did keep a lookout for the _Sparhawk_, and heard of her from twovessels coming north, and finally fell in with you. And a regularlunatic you were when I took you on board; but that's not to bewondered at; and you seem to be all right now. "

"Did you not bring me any message from them?" I asked. 

"Oh, yes; lots, " said the captain. "Let me see if I can remember someof them. " And then he knit his brows and tapped his head, and repeatedsome very commonplace expressions of encouragement and sympathy. 

The effect of these upon me was very different from what the captainhad expected. I had hoped for a note, a line--anything direct fromBertha. If she had written something which would explain the meaning ofthose last words from Mary Phillips, whether that explanation werefavorable or otherwise, I would have been better satisfied; but now myterrible suspense must continue. 

"Well, " said the captain, "you don't seem cheered up much by word fromyour friends. I was too busy looking at them to rightly catcheverything they said, but I know they told me they were going to Londonin the _Glanford_. This I remembered, because it struck me what a jollypiece of good luck it all was for Captain Guy. "

"And for what port are you bound?" I asked. "La Guayra, " he said. "Itisn't a very good time of the year to be there; but I don't doubt thatyou can find some vessel or other there that will take you north, soyou're all right. "

I was not all right. Bertha was saved. I was saved; but I had receivedno message. I knew nothing; and I was going away from her. 

Two or three days after this, the captain came to me and said: "Lookhere, young man; you seem to be in the worst kind of doleful dumps. People who have been picked up in the middle of the ocean don'tgenerally look like that. I wonder if you're not a little love-sick onaccount of a young woman on the _Glanford_. "

I made no answer; I would not rebuke him, for he had saved my life; butthis was a subject which I did not wish to discuss with a sea-captain. 

"If that's really what's the matter with you, " said he, "I can give youa piece of advice which will do you good if you take it. I think youtold me that you are not engaged to this lady, " (I nodded) "and thatyou never proposed to her except through a speaking-trumpet. " Iallowed silence to make assent. "Well, now, my advice is to give herup, to drop all thoughts of her, and to make up your mind to tackleonto some other girl when you find one that is good enough. You haven'tthe least chance in the world with this one. Captain Guy is mad in lovewith her. He told me so himself, and when he's out and out in love witha girl he's bound to get her. When I was with him he might have beenmarried once a month if he'd chosen to; but he didn't choose. Now hedoes choose, and I can tell you that he's not going to make lovethrough a speaking-trumpet. He'll go straight at it, and he'll win, too. There's every reason why he should win. In the first place, he'sone of the handsomest fellows, and I don't doubt one of the bestlove-makers that you would be likely to meet on land or sea. And thenagain, she has every reason to be grateful to him and to look on him asa hero. "

I listened without a word. The captain's reasoning seemed to me veryfallacious. 

"You don't know it, " said he, "but Captain Guy did a good deal morethan pick up those two women from an abandoned vessel. You see he wasmaking his way north with a pretty fair wind from the south-west, thefirst they'd had for several days, and when his lookout sighted _LaFidélité_ nobody on board thought for a minute that he would try tobeat up to her, for she lay a long way to the west of his course, though pretty well in sight. 

"But Captain Guy has sharp eyes and a good glass, and he vowed that hecould see something on the wreck that looked like a handkerchief wavedby a woman. He told me this himself as we were walking from my ship tohis. Everybody laughed at him and wanted to know if women wavedhandkerchiefs different from other people. 

"They said that any bit of canvas might wave like that, and that it wasplain enough that the vessel was abandoned. If it was not, it could be, for there was a boat still hanging to one of its davits. Captain Guypaid no attention to this, but spied a little longer; then he vowedthat he was going to make for that vessel. There was one of the ownerson board, and he up and forbid Captain Guy to do it. He told him thatthey had been delayed enough on the voyage by light winds, and now thatthey would be over-due at their port a good many days before they gotthere. Every day lost, he said, was money lost to the owners. He hadnever heard of any skipper undertaking a piece of tomfoolery like this. It would take all day to beat up to that wreck, and when they reachedit they would find an old derelict, which was no more than they couldsee now. And as for there being a woman on board, that was all stuff. The skipper had woman on the brain. 

"To this Captain Guy answered that he didn't own the ship, but hecommanded her, and as long as he commanded this vessel or any other, hewas not going to pass a wreck when there were good reasons to believethat there was a human being on board of it, and in spite of whatanybody said, his eyes told him that there was reason to believe thatthere was somebody waving on that wreck. So he ordered the ship putabout, paying no attention to the cursing and swearing of the owner, and beat against a wind that was getting lighter and lighter for overfour hours until he reached the French steamer and took off the twoladies. 

"There was nobody on board the _Glanford_ that thinks that Captain Guywill ever sail that ship again. And in fact he don't think so himself. But said he to me: "If I can marry that girl, the ship can go. If Ican't get another ship, I can sail under a skipper. But there's noother girl in the world like this one. "

"And so you see, sir, " he continued, "there isn't the least chance inthe world for you. Captain Guy's got her on board his ship; he's withher by sunlight and starlight. He's lost his ship for her and he wantsto marry her. And on the other hand, it'll be weeks and weeks andperhaps months before you can see her, or write to her either, as likeas not, and long before that Captain Guy will have his affair settled, and there isn't any reason in my mind to doubt which way it willsettle. And so you just take my advice, sir, and stop drawing that longface. There are plenty of good girls in the world; no reason why youshouldn't get one; but if you are moping for the one that CaptainGuy's got his heart set on, I'm afraid you'll end by being as much outof your head as you were when I found you. "

To all this I made no answer, but walked gloomily toward the stern andlooked down into the foaming wake. I think I heard the captain tell oneof the men to keep an eye on me. 

When we reached La Guayra--and the voyage seemed to me a never-endingone--I immediately set about finding a vessel bound for England. Mycaptain advised me to go up on the mountains and wait until a steamershould sail for New York, which event might be expected in two or threeweeks. America would be much better for me, he thought, than wouldEngland. But I paid no attention to him, and as there was nothing inport that would sail for England, I took passage in a Spanish steamerbound for Barcelona. Arriving there, after a passage long enough togive me plenty of time for the consideration of the last two words Iheard from Mary Phillips, and of the value of the communications I hadreceived regarding Captain Guy Chesters, I immediately started by railfor London. On this journey I found that what I had heard concerningthe rescue of my Bertha had had a greater effect upon me than I hadsupposed. Trains could not go fast enough for me. I was as restless asa maniac; I may have looked like one. 

Over and over I tried to quiet myself by comforting reflections, sayingto myself, for instance, that if the message which Bertha had sentfloating on the sea to me had not been a good one, she would not havesent it. Feel as she might, she could not have been so hard-hearted asto crush the hopes of a man who, like herself, might soon lie in awatery grave. But then, there was that terrible word "but. " Looked atin certain lights, what could be more crushing or heart-breaking thanthat?

And then again, Mary Phillips may not have understood what I said toher through the speaking-trumpet. A grim humor of despair suggestedthat at that distance, and in that blustering wind, the faithfulmaid-servant might have thought that instead of shouting that I lovedmy Bertha, I was asking her if they had plenty of salt pork andhardtack. It was indeed a time of terrible suspense. 

I did not know Bertha's address in England. I knew that she had friendsin London and others in the country; but I was sure that I would findher if she were on the island. I arrived in London very early in themorning, too early to expect to find open any of the banking-houses orother places where Americans would be likely to register. Unable toremain inactive, I took a cab and drove to the London docks. 

I went to inquire the whereabouts of Captain Guy Chesters. 

This plan of action was almost repulsive to me, but I felt that itoffered an opportunity which I should not neglect. I would certainlylearn about Bertha if I saw him, and whether it would be anything goodor anything bad I ought to know it. 

In making my inquiries the cabman was of much assistance to me. Andafter having been referred from one person to another, I at last founda man, first mate of a vessel in the docks, who knew Captain Chesters, and could tell me all about him. 

"Yes, sir, " said he, "I can tell you where to find Captain Chesters. He's on shore, for he doesn't command the _Glanford_ now, and as far asI know he hasn't signed articles yet either as skipper or mate in anyother craft. The fact is, he's engaged in business, which I suppose hethinks better than sailing the sea. He was married about a month ago. It's only two or three days since he's got back from a little land tripthey took on the Continent. I saw him yesterday; he's the happiest manalive. But it's as like as not that he's ready for business now thathe's got through with his honeymoon, and if it's a skipper you'relooking for you can't find a better man than Captain Guy, not aboutthese docks. "

I stood and looked at the man without seeing him, and then in a hollowvoice asked: "Where does he live?"

"A hundred and nine Lisbury Street, Calistoy Road, East. Now that I'vetold you, I wish I hadn't. You look as though you were going to measurehim for a coffin. "

"Thank you, " said I, and walked away. 

I told the cabman to drive me to the address I had received, and in duetime we arrived in front of a very good-looking house, in a quiet andrespectable street. 

I was in a peculiar state of mind. I had half expected the terribleshock, and I had received it. But I had not been stunned; I had beenroused to an unusual condition of mental activity. My senses weresharpened by the torment of my soul, and I observed everything, --thequarter of the city, the street, the house. 

The woman who opened the door started a little when she saw me. I askedfor Mrs. Captain Chesters, and walked in without waiting to be toldwhether the lady was in or not. The woman showed me into a littleparlor, and left me. Her manner plainly indicated that she suspectedsomething was the matter with me. 

In a very short time a tall, well-made man, with curly brown hair, ahandsome, sun-browned face, and that fine presence which command at seafrequently gives, entered the room. 

"I understand, sir, " said he, "that you asked for my wife, but Ithought it better to come to you myself. What is your business withher, sir, and what is your name?"

"My name is Charles Rockwell, " I said, "and my business is to see her. If she has already forgotten my name, you can tell her that I keptcompany with her for a while on the Atlantic Ocean, when she was in onewreck and I was in another. "

"Good heavens!" cried the young sailor; "do you mean to say that youare the man who was on the derelict _Sparhawk_? And were you picked upby Captain Stearns, whom I sent after you? I supposed he would havewritten to me about you. "

"I came faster than a letter would come, " I answered. "Can I see her?"

"Of course you can!" cried Captain Guy. "I never knew a man so talkedabout as you have been since I fell in with the wreck of that Frenchsteamer! By George! sir, there was a time when I was dead jealous ofyou. But I'm married tight and fast now, and that sort of thing is donewith. Of course you shall see her. "

He left the room, and presently I heard the sound of running footsteps. The door was opened, and Mary Phillips entered, closely followed by thecaptain. I started back; I shouted as if I had a speaking-trumpet tomy mouth:--

"What!" I cried; "is this your wife?"

"Yes, " said Captain Guy, stepping forward, "of course she is. Why not?"I made no answer, but with open arms I rushed upon Mary Phillips andfolded her in a wild embrace. I heard a burst of nautical oaths, andprobably would have been felled by a nautical fist, had not Maryscreamed to her husband:--

"Stop, Guy!" she cried; "I understand him. It's all right. He's so gladto see me. "

I released her from my embrace, and, staggering back, sank upon achair. 

"Go get him a glass of sherry, Guy, " she said, and wheeling up a greateasy-chair, she told me to sit in it, for I looked dreadfully tired. Itook the chair, and when the wine was brought I drank it. 

"Where is Miss Nugent?" I asked. 

"Miss Nugent is all right, " said Mary Phillips, "but I'm not going totell you a word about her or anything else until you've had somebreakfast. I know you have not tasted food this day. "

I admitted that I had not. I would eat, I would do anything, so thatafterward she would tell me about Bertha. 

When I had a cup of coffee and some toast which Mary brought to me upona tray, I arose from my chair. 

"Now tell me quickly, " I said, "where is Bertha?"

"Not a bit of it, " said Mary Phillips--I call her so, for I shall neverknow her by any other name. 

"Sit down again, Mr. Rockwell, and eat these two eggs. When you havedone that I will talk to you about her. You needn't be in a hurry to goto see her, because in the house where she is the people are not upyet. "

"Might as well sit down and eat, " said the captain, laughing. "Whenyou're under command of this skipper you will find that her orders areorders, and the quicker you step up and obey them, the better. So Iwould advise you to eat your eggs. "

I began to do so, and Captain Guy laughed a mighty laugh. "She's alittle thing, " he said, "but she does know how to make men stand about. I didn't believe there was a person in this world who could have keptmy hands off you when I saw you hugging my wife. But she did it, and Itell you, sir, I was never worse cut up in my whole life than I waswhen I saw you do that. "

"Sir, " said I, looking at him steadfastly, "if I have caused you anypain, any misery, any torment of the soul, any anguish of heart, anyagony of jealousy, or mental torture of any kind, I am heartily glad ofit, for all of these things you have brought on me. "

"Good!" cried Mary Phillips; "you must be feeling better, sir, andwhen you have entirely finished breakfast we will go on and talk. "

In a few moments I pushed away the tray, and Mary, looking at it, declared herself satisfied, and placed it on a side table. 

"So you really supposed, sir, " she said, sitting near me, "that CaptainChesters married Miss Nugent?"

"I certainly did, " I answered. 

"No doubt, thinking, " said Mary, with a smile, "that no man in hissenses would marry anybody else when Miss Nugent was about, which was avery proper opinion, of course, considering your state of mind. "

"And let me say, sir, " said Captain Guy, "if I had married Miss Nugent, more people than you would have been dissatisfied. I would have beenone of them, and I am sure Miss Nugent would have been another. "

"Count me as one of that party, " said Mary Phillips. "And now, Mr. Rockwell, you shall not be kept waiting a moment longer. "

"Of course she is safe and well, " I said, "or you would not behere, and before you say anything more about her, please tell me whatyou meant by that terrible word 'but. '"

"But?" repeated Mary Phillips, with a puzzled expression. And CaptainGuy echoed, "But? What but?"

"It was the last word I heard from you, " said I; "you shouted it to mewhen your vessel was going away for the last time. It has caused me aworld of misery. It may have been followed by other words, but I didnot catch them. I asked you if you had told her that I loved her, andyou answered, 'Yes, but--'"

Captain Guy slapped his leg, "By George!" he said; "that was enough toput a man on the rack. Mary, you should have told him more than that. "

Mary Phillips wrinkled her forehead and gazed steadfastly into her lap. Suddenly she looked up. 

"I remember it, " she said; "I remember exactly what I answered or triedto answer. I said, 'Yes, but she knew it before. '"

I sprang to my feet. "What do you mean?" I cried. 

"Of course she knew it, " she cried: "we must both have been very stupidif we hadn't known that. We knew it before we left New York; and, formy part, I wondered why you didn't tell her. But as you never mentionedit, of course it wasn't for us to bring up the subject. "

"Bertha knew I loved her?" I ejaculated. "And what--and how--what didshe say of it? What did she think of it?"

"Well, " said Mary Phillips, laughing, "I could never see that shedoubted it; I could never see that she objected to it. In fact, fromwhat she said, and, being just us two, of course she had to say a goodmany things to me, I think she was very glad to find out that you knewit as well as we did. "

"Mary Phillips!" I cried; "where is she? Tell me this moment!"

"Look here, " said Captain Guy, "you're leaving me out of this businessaltogether. This is Mrs. Mary Chesters. "

"Mr. Rockwell will be all right when he gets over this flurry, " saidMary to her husband. 

I acknowledged the correction with a nod, for I had no time then forwords on the subject. 

"Don't get yourself flustered, sir, " said Mary. "You can't go to heryet; it's too early. You must give the family time to come down andhave breakfast. I am not going to be party to a scene before breakfastnor in the middle of a meal. I know the ways and manners of that house, and I'll send you at exactly the right time. "

I sat down. "Mary--Mrs. --"

"Don't bother about names just now, " she interrupted; "I know whoyou're speaking to. "

"Do you believe, " I continued, looking steadfastly at her, "that BerthaNugent loves me?"

"I don't know, " she said, "that it's exactly my business to give thisinformation, but under the circumstances I take it on myself to saythat she most certainly does. And I tell you, and you may tell her ifyou like, that I would not have said this to you if I hadn't believedthis thing ought to be clinched the minute there was a chance to do it. It's been hanging off and on long enough. Love you? Why, bless mysoul, sir, she's been thinking of nothing else for the past two orthree days but the coming of the postman, expecting a letter from you, not considering that you didn't know where to address her, or that itwas rather scant time for a letter to come from La Guayra, whereCaptain Stearns would take you if he succeeded in picking you up. "

"The whole affair had a scanty air about it, " said Captain Guy. "Atleast, that's the way I look at it. "

"You've never said anything like that before, " said Mary, rathersharply. 

"Of course not, " replied the captain. "I wanted to keep you as merryand cheerful as I could. And besides, I didn't say I had thought therewas no chance of Mr. Rockwell's turning up. I only said I considered ita little scantish. "

"Love you?" continued Mary Phillips; "I should say so. I should havebrought her on deck to wave her handkerchief to you and kiss herhand--perhaps, when you blew the state of your feelings through atrumpet; but she wasn't strong enough. She was a pretty weak woman inbody and mind about that time. But from the moment I told her, and sheknew that you not only loved her, but were willing to say so, she beganto mend. And how she did talk about you, and how she did long that thetwo ships might come together again! She kept asking me what I thoughtabout the condition of your vessel and whether it would be like to sinkif a storm came on. I could not help thinking that, as far as I knewanything about ships, you'd be likely to float for weeks after we'dgone down, but I didn't say that to her. And then she began to wonderif you had understood that she had received your message and was gladto get it. And I told her over and over and over again that you musthave heard me, for I screamed my very loudest. I am very glad that Ididn't know that you only caught those two words. "

"Dear girl!" I ejaculated. "And did she send me a message on alife-preserver?"

"You mean to say that you got it?" cried Mary Phillips. 

"No, " said I; "it floated away from me. What was it?"

"I got up that little scheme, " said Mary Phillips, "to quiet her. Itold her that a letter might be floated to you that way, and that, anyway, it would do no harm to try. I don't know what she wrote, butshe must have said a good deal, for she took a long time about it. Iwrapped it up perfectly water-tight. She made the flag herself out ofone of her own handkerchiefs with her initial in the corner. She saidshe thought you would like that. "

"Oh, that it had come to me!" I cried. 

"I wish from the bottom of my soul that it had, " said Mary, compassionately. "It would have done you a lot of good on that lonelyship. "

"Instead of which, " observed Captain Guy, "some shark probablyswallowed it, and little good it did him. "

"It put a lot of affection and consideration into him, " said Mary, alittle brusquely, "and there are other creatures connected with the seawho wouldn't be hurt by that sort of thing. "

"There's a shot into me!" cried the captain. "Don't do it again. I cryquarter!"

"I must go, " I said, rising; "I can wait no longer. "

"Well, " said Mary, "you may not be much too soon, if you go slowly. "

"But before I go, " I said, "tell me this: Why did she not send me someword from Lisbon? Why did she not give Captain Stearns a line on apiece of paper or some message?"

"A line! a message!" exclaimed Mary. "She sent you a note; she sent youa dozen messages by Captain Stearns. "

"And I'll wager a month's pay, " said Captain Guy, "that he neverdelivered one of them. "

"He gave me no note, " I cried. 

"It's in the pocket of his pea-jacket now, " said Captain Chesters. 

"He did deliver some messages, " I said, "after I questioned him; butthey were such as these: Keep up a good heart; everything's bound to beright in the end; the last to get back gets the heartiest welcome. Now, anybody could have sent such words as those. "

"Upon my word, " cried Mary Phillips, "those were the messages I sent. Iremember particularly the one about the last one back and the heartiestwelcome. "

"Confound that Stearns!" cried Captain Guy; "what did he mean by givingall his attention to you, and none to the lady that he was sent for tosee?"

"Good bye, Mrs. Chesters, " I said, taking her by the hand. "I can neverthank you enough for what you have done for her and for me. But how youcould leave her I really do not understand. "

"Well, " said Mary, coloring a little, "I can scarcely understand itmyself; but that man would have it so, and he's terribly obstinate. ButI don't feel that I've left her. She's in the best of hands, and I seeher nearly every day. Here's her address, and when you meet her, Mr. Rockwell, you'll find that in every way I've told you truly. " I took ahearty leave of Captain Guy, shook Mary by the hand once more, rusheddown stairs, roused the sleeping cabby, and glancing at the card, ordered him to gallop to 9 Ravisdock Terrace, Parmley Square. 

I do not know how I got into the house, what I said nor what I asked, nor whether the family had had their breakfast or not; but the momentmy eyes fell upon my beloved Bertha I knew that in everything MaryPhillips had told me truly. She came into the room with beaming eyesand both hands extended. With outstretched arms I rushed to meet her, and folded her to my breast. This time there was no one to object. Forsome moments we were speechless with joyful emotion, but there was noneed of our saying anything, no need of statements nor explanations. Mary Phillips had attended to all that. 

When we had cooled down to the point of speech, I was surprised to findthat I had been expected, that Bertha knew I was coming. When MaryPhillips had left me that morning to prepare my breakfast, she had senta message to Bertha, and then she had detained me until she thought ithad been received and Bertha was prepared to meet me. 

"I did not want any slips or misses, " she said, when she explained thematter to me afterward. "I don't want to say anything about yourpersonal appearance, Mr. Rockwell, but there are plenty of servants inLondon who, if they hadn't had their orders, would shut the door in theface of a much less wild-eyed person than you were, sir, that morning. "

Bertha and I were married in London, and two weeks afterward wereturned to America in the new ship _Glaucus_, commanded by Captain GuyChesters and his wife. 

Our marriage in England instead of America was largely due to theinfluence of Mary Phillips, who thought it would be much safer and moreprudent for us to be married before we again undertook the risks of asea-voyage. 

"Nobody knows what may happen on the ocean, " she said; "but if you'reonce fairly married, that much is accomplished, anyway. "

Our choice of a sailing-vessel in which to make the passage was due ina great part to our desire to keep company as long as possible withCaptain Chesters and his wife, to whom we truly believed we owed eachother. 

When we reached New York, and Bertha and I were about to start for theCatskill Mountains, where we proposed to spend the rest of the summer, we took leave of Captain Guy and his wife with warmest expressions offriendship, with plans for meeting again. 

Everything seemed to have turned out in the best possible way. 

We had each other, and Mary Phillips had some one to manage. 

We should have been grieved if we had been obliged to leave her withoutoccupation. 

At the moment of parting I drew her aside. "Mary, " I said, "we have hadsome strange experiences together, and I shall never forget them. "

"Nor shall I, sir, " she answered. "Some of them were so harrowing andclose-shaved, and such heart-breaking disappointments I never had. Theworst of all was when you threw that rope clean over our ship withoutholding on to your end of it. I had been dead sure that the rope wasgoing to bring us all together. "

"That was a terrible mishap, " I answered; "what did Bertha think ofit?"

"Bless my soul!" ejaculated Mary Phillips; "she wasn't on deck, and shenever knew anything about it. When I am nursing up a love match I don'tmention that sort of thing. "

THE BAKER OF BARNBURY. 

A CHRISTMAS STORY. 

It was three days before Christmas, and the baker of the little villageof Barnbury sat in the room behind his shop. He was a short and sturdybaker, a good fellow, and ordinarily of a jolly demeanor, but this dayhe sat grim in his little back room. 

"Christmas, indeed, " he said to himself, "and what of Christmas? 'Thankyou, baker, and a merry Christmas to you, ' and every one of them goesaway with the present of a raisin-cake, or a horse ginger-cake, ifthey like that better. All this for the good of the trade, of course. Confound the trade, I'm tired of trade. Is there no good in this world, but the good of the trade? 'Oh, yes, ' they'll say, 'there's Christmas, and that's good. '--'But what is the good of it to me?' say I. Christmasday is a family day, and to a man without a family it's no day at all. I'm not even fourth cousin to a soul in the town. Nobody asks me to afamily dinner. 'Bake! baker!' they cry, 'that we may eat and love eachother. ' Confound them! I am tired of it. What is Christmas to me? Ihave a mind to skip it. "

As he said this, a smile broke out on his face. "Skip Christmas, " saidhe; "that is a good idea. They did not think of me last year; thiswould make them think of me this year. "

As he said this he opened his order-book and ran his eye over thenames. "Here's orders from every one of them, " said he, "from thedoctor down to Cobbler John. All have families, all give orders. It'spastry, cake, or sweetmeats, or it's meat or fowl to be baked. What ajolly Christmas they will have without me! Orders from all of them, every one; all sent in good time for fear of being crowded out. "

Here he stopped and ran his eye again over the list. 

"No, not all, " he said; "the Widow Monk is not here. What is the matterwith her, I wonder. The only person in Barnbury who has not orderedeither pastry, cakes, or sweetmeats; or fowls or meat to be baked. If Iskip Christmas, she'll not mind it, she'll be the only one--the onlyone in all Barnbury. Ha! ha!"

The baker wanted some fresh air, and, as this was supper-time for thewhole village, he locked up his shop and went out for a walk. The nightwas clear and frosty. He liked this; the air was so different from thatin his bakery. 

He walked to the end of the village, and at the last house he stopped. 

"It's very odd, " said he to himself; "no cakes, pastry, or sweetmeats;not even poultry or meat to be baked. I'll look in and see about this, "and he knocked at the door. 

The Widow Monk was at supper. She was a plump little body, bright andcheerful to look upon, and not more than thirty. 

"Good evening, baker, " said she; "will you sit down and have a cup oftea?"

The baker put down his hat, unwound his long woollen comforter, tookoff his overcoat, and had a cup of tea. 

"Now, then, " said he to himself, as he put down his cup, "if she'd askme to dinner, I wouldn't skip Christmas, and the whole village mightrise up and bless her. "

"We are like to have a fine Christmas, " he said to her. 

"Fine enough for the rest of you, " she said, with a smile, "but I shallnot have any Christmas this year. "

"How's that?" cried the baker; "no Christmas, Widow Monk?"

"Not this year, baker, " said she, and she poured him another cup oftea. "You see that horse-blanket?" said she, pointing to one thrownover a chair. 

"Bless me, Widow Monk, " cried the baker, "you're not intending to setup a horse?"

"Hardly that, " she answered, with a smile, "but that's the very lasthorse-blanket that I can get to bind. They don't put them on horses, but they have them bound with red, and use them for door curtains. That's all the fashion now, and all the Barnbury folks who can affordthem, have sent them to me to be bound with red. That one is nearlyfinished, and there are no more to be bound. "

"But haven't the Barnbury folks any more work for you?" cried thebaker; "haven't they shirts or gowns, or some other sort of needling?"

"Those things they make themselves, " answered the widow; "but thisbinding is heavy work, and they give it to me. The blankets are coarse, you see, but they hang well in the doorway. "

"Confound the people of Barnbury!" cried the baker. "Every one of themwould hang well in a doorway, if I had the doing of it. And so youcan't afford a Christmas, Widow Monk?"

"No, " said she, setting herself to work on her horse-blanket, "not thisyear. When I came to Barnbury, baker, I thought I might do well, but Ihave not done well. "

"Did not your husband leave you anything?" he asked. 

"My husband was a sailor, " said she, "and he went down with his brig, the _Mistletoe_, three years ago, and all that he left me is gone, baker. "

It was time for the baker to open his shop, and he went away, and as hewalked home snow-drops and tear-drops were all mixed together on hisface. 

"I couldn't do this sort of thing before her, " he said, "and I am gladit was time to go and open my shop. "

That night the baker did all his regular work, but not a finger did heput to any Christmas order. The next day, at supper-time, he went outfor a walk. 

On the way he said to himself, "If she is going to skip Christmas, andI am going to skip Christmas, why should we not skip it together? Thatwould truly be most fit and gladsome, and it would serve Barnburyaright. I'll go in and lay it before her. "

The Widow Monk was at supper, and when she asked him to take a cup oftea, he put down his hat, unwound his woollen comforter, and took offhis overcoat. When he set down his empty cup he told her that he, too, had made up his mind to skip Christmas, and he told her why, and thenhe proposed that they should skip it together. 

Now, the Widow Monk forgot to ask him to take a second cup of tea, andshe turned as red as the binding she had put on the horse-blankets. The baker pushed aside the teacups, leaned over the table, and pressedhis suit very hard. 

When the time came for him to open his shop she said that she wouldthink about the matter, and that he might come again. 

The next day the sun shone golden, the snow shone silvery, and Barnburywas like a paradise to the good baker. For the Widow Monk had told himhe might come again, and that was almost the same thing as telling himthat he and she would skip Christmas together! And not a finger, sofar, had he put to any Christmas order. 

About noon of that day, he was so happy, was that good baker, that hewent into the village inn to have a taste of something hot. In the innhe found a tall man, with rings in his ears. A sun-browned man he wasand a stranger, who had just arrived and wanted his dinner. He was alsoa handsome man, and a sailor, as any one could see. 

As the baker entered, the tall man said to the inn-keeper:--

"Is there a Mrs. Monk now living in this village?"

"Truly there is, " said the inn-keeper, "and I will show you her house. But you'll have your dinner first?"

"Aye, aye, " said the stranger, "for I'll not go to her hungry. "

The baker asked for nothing hot, but turned him and went out into thecold, bleak world. As he closed the door behind him he heard thestranger say:--

"On the brig _Mistletoe_. "

It was not needed that the baker should hear these words; already heknew everything. His soul had told him everything in the moment he sawthe sun-browned man with the rings in his ears!

On went the baker, his head bowed on his breast, the sun shining liketawdry brass, the snow glistening like a slimy, evil thing. He knew notwhere he was going; he knew not what he intended to do, but on he went. 

Presently a door opened, and he was called. 

"I saw you coming, " said the Widow Monk, "and I did not wish to keepyou waiting in the cold, " and she held open the door for him. 

When he had entered, and had seated himself before the fire, she saidto him:--

"Truly, you look chilled; you need something hot"; and she prepared itfor him. 

The baker took the hot beverage. This much of good he might at leastallow himself. He drank it, and he felt warmed. 

"And now, " said the Widow Monk, seating herself on the other side ofthe fire-place, "I shall speak as plainly to you as you spoke to me. You spoke very well yesterday, and I have been thinking about it eversince, and have made up my mind. You are alone in the world, and I amalone; and if you don't wish to be alone any longer, why, I don't wishto be either, and so--perhaps--it will not be necessary to skipChristmas this year. "

Alas for the poor baker! Here was paradise seen through a barred gate!But the baker's heart was moved; even in the midst of his misery hecould not but be grateful for the widow's words. There flashed into hiseyes a sudden brightness. He held out his hands. He would thank herfirst, and tell her afterwards. 

The widow took his hands, lowered her bright eyes and blushed. Then shesuddenly withdrew herself and stood up. 

"Now, " she said, with a pretty smile, "let me do the talking. Don'tlook so downcast. When I tell you that you have made me very, veryhappy, you should look happy too. When you came to me yesterday, andsaid what you said, I thought you were in too much of a hurry; but nowI think that perhaps you were right, and that when people of our agehave anything important to do it is well to do it at once; for in thisworld there are all sorts of things continually springing up to preventpeople from being happy. "

The whole body of the baker was filled with a great groan, but hedenied it utterance. He must hear what she would say. 

"And so I was going to suggest, " she continued, "that instead ofskipping Christmas together, we keep it together. That is all thechange I propose to your plan. "

Up sprang the baker, so suddenly, that he overset his chair. Now hemust speak. The widow stepped quickly toward the door, and, turningwith a smile, held up her hand. 

"Now, good friend, " said she, "stop there! At any moment some one mightcome in. Hasten back to your shop. At three o'clock I will meet you atthe parson's. That will surely be soon enough, even for such a hastyman as you. "

The baker came forward, and gasped, "Your husband!"

"Not yet, " said the widow, with a laugh, and, kissing the tips of herfingers to him, she closed the door behind her. 

Out into the cold went the baker. His head was dazed, but he walkedsteadfastly to his shop. There was no need for him to go anywhere; totell anybody anything. The man with the earrings would settle mattersfor himself soon enough. 

The baker put up his shutters and locked his shop door. He would donothing more for the good of trade; nothing more for the good ofanything. Skip Christmas! Indeed would he! And, moreover, every holidayand every happy day would now be skipped straight on for the rest ofhis life. He put his house in order; he arranged his affairs; heattired himself in his best apparel; locked his door behind him; andwent out into the cold world. 

He longed now to get far away from the village. Before the sun setthere would not be one soul there who would care for him. 

As he hurried on, he saw before him the parson's house. 

"I will take but one thing away with me, " he said; "I will ask the goodold man to give me his blessing. That will I take with me. "

"Of course he is in, " said the parson's maid; "there, in the parlor. "

As the baker entered the parson's parlor, some one hastened to meethim. It was the Widow Monk. 

"You wicked man, " she whispered, "you are a quarter of an hour late. The parson is waiting. "

The parson was a little man with white hair. He stepped toward thecouple standing together, and the widow took the baker's hand. Then theparson began the little speech he always made on such occasions. Itwas full of good sense and very touching, and the widow's eyes were dimwith tears. The baker would have spoken, but he had never interrupted aclergyman, and he could not do it now. 

Then the parson began his appointed work, and the heart of the bakerswelled, as the widow's hand trembled in his own. 

"Wilt thou have this woman to be thy wedded wife?" asked the parson. 

"Now for this, " quoth the poor baker to himself, "I may bake forever, but I cannot draw back nor keep the good man waiting. " And he said, "Yes. "

Then it was that the baker received what he had come for, --the parson'sblessing; and, immediately, his fair companion, brimming with tears, threw herself into his arms. 

"Now, " said the baker to himself, "when I leave this house, may thedevil take me, and right welcome shall he be!"

"Dearest, " she exclaimed, as she looked into his face, "you cannot knowhow happy I am. My wedding day, and my brother back from the cruelseas!"

Struck by a sudden blast of bewildering ecstasy, the baker raised hiseyes, and beheld the tall form of the sun-browned stranger who had beenstanding behind them. 

"You are not a sailor-man, " quoth the jovial brother, "like my oldmate, who went down in the brig _Mistletoe_, but my sister tells me youare a jolly good fellow, and I wish you fair winds and paying cargoes. "And after giving the baker a powerful handshake, the sailor kissed thebride, the parson's wife, the parson's daughter, and the parson's maid, and wished the family were larger, having just returned from the cruelseas. 

The only people in the village of Barnbury, who thoroughly enjoyed theChristmas of that year, were the baker, his wife, and the sailorbrother. And a rare good time they had; for a big sea-chest arrived, and there were curious presents, and a tall flask of rare old wine, andplenty of time for three merry people to cook for themselves. 

The baker told his wife of his soul-harrowing plight of the day before. 

"Now, then, " said he, "don't you think that by rights I should bake allthe same?"

"Oh, that will be skipped, " she said, with a laugh; "and now go you andmake ready for the cakes, pastry, and sweetmeats, the baked meats andthe poultry, with which the people of Barnbury are to be made righthappy on New Year's day. "

THE WATER-DEVIL

A MARINE TALE. 

In the village of Riprock there was neither tavern nor inn, for it wasbut a small place through which few travellers passed; but it could notbe said to be without a place of entertainment, for if by chance astranger--or two or three of them, for that matter--wished to stop atRiprock for a meal, or to pass the night, there was the house ofblacksmith Fryker, which was understood to be always open to decenttravellers. 

The blacksmith was a prominent man in the village, and his house was alarge one, with several spare bedrooms, and it was said by those whohad had an opportunity of judging, that nobody in the village livedbetter than blacksmith Fryker and his family. 

Into the village there came, late one autumn afternoon, a tall man, whowas travelling on foot, with a small valise hanging from his shoulder. He had inquired for lodging for the night, had been directed to theblacksmith's house, had arranged to stop there, had had his supper, which greatly satisfied him, and was now sitting before the fire in thelarge livingroom, smoking blacksmith Fryker's biggest pipe. 

This stranger was a red-haired man, with a cheery expression, and apair of quick, bright eyes. He was slenderly but strongly built, andwas a good fellow, who would stand by, with his hands in the pockets ofhis short pea-jacket, and right willingly tell one who was doingsomething how the thing ought to be done. 

But the traveller did not sit alone before the crackling fire of logs, for the night being cool, a table was drawn near to one side of thefire-place, and by this sat Mistress Fryker and her daughter Joanna, both engaged in some sort of needle-work. The blacksmith sat betweenthe corner of the fire-place and this table, so that when he hadfinished smoking his after-supper pipe, he might put on his spectaclesand read the weekly paper by the light of the big lamp. On the otherside of the stranger, whose chair was in front of the middle of thefire-place, sat the school-master, Andrew Cardly by name; a middle-agedman of sober and attentive aspect, and very glad when chance threw inhis way a book he had not read, or a stranger who could reinforce hisstock of information. At the other corner of the fire-place, in acushioned chair, which was always given to him when he dropped in tospend an evening with the blacksmith, sat Mr. Harberry, an elderly man, a man of substance, and a man in whom all Riprock, not excludinghimself, placed unqualified confidence as to his veracity, hisfinancial soundness, and his deep insight into the causes, theinfluences, and the final issue of events and conditions. 

"On a night like this, " said the stranger, stretching his long legstoward the blaze, "there is nothing I like better than a fire of wood, except indeed it be the society of ladies who do not object to a littletobacco smoke, " and he glanced with a smile toward the table with alamp upon it. 

Now blacksmith Fryker was a prudent man, and he did not consider thatthe privileges of his hearthstone--always freely granted to a decentstranger--included an acquaintance with his pretty daughter; and so, without allowing his women-folk a chance to enter into theconversation, he offered the stranger a different subject to hammerupon. 

"In the lower country, " said he, "they don't need fires as early in theseason as we do. What calling do you follow, sir? Some kind of trade, perhaps?"

"No, " said the traveller, "I follow no trade; I follow the sea. "

At this the three men looked at him, as also the two women. Hisappearance no more suggested that he was a seaman than the appearanceof Mr. Harberry suggested that he was what the village of Riprockbelieved him to be. "I should not have taken you for a sailor, " saidthe blacksmith. 

"I am not a sailor, " said the other; "I am a soldier; a sea-soldier--infact, a marine. "

"I should say, sir, " remarked the school-master, in a manner intendedrather to draw out information than to give it, "that the position of asoldier on a ship possessed advantages over that of a soldier on land. The former is not required to make long marches, nor to carry heavybaggage. He remains at rest, in fact, while traversing great distances. Nor is he called on to resist the charges of cavalry, nor to formhollow squares on the deadly battle-field. "

The stranger smiled. "We often find it hard enough, " said he, "toresist the charges made against us by our officers; the hollow squaresform themselves in our stomachs when we are on short rations; and Ihave known many a man who would rather walk twenty miles than sail one, especially when the sea chops. "

"I am very sure, sir, " said school-master Cardly, "that there isnothing to be said against the endurance and the courage of marines. Weall remember how they presented arms, and went down with the _RoyalGeorge_. "

The marine smiled. 

"I suppose, " said the blacksmith, "that you never had to do anything ofthat sort?"

The stranger did not immediately answer, but sat looking into the fire. Presently he said: "I have done things of nearly every sort, althoughnot exactly that; but I have thought my ship was going down with all onboard, and that's the next worst thing to going down, you know. "

"And how was that?" inquired Fryker. 

"Well, " said the other, "it happened more times than I can tell you of, or even remember. Yes, " said he, meditatively, "more times than I canremember. "

"I am sure, " said the school-master, "that we should all like to hearsome of your experiences. "

The marine shrugged his shoulders. "These things, " said he, "come to aman, and then if he lives through them, they pass on, and he is readyfor the next streak of luck, good or bad. That's the way with usfollowers of the sea, especially if we happen to be marines, and haveto bear, so to speak, the responsibility of two professions. Butsometimes a mischance or a disaster does fix itself upon a man's mindso that he can tell about it if he is called upon; and just now therecomes to my mind a very odd thing which once happened to me, and I cangive you the points of that, if you like. "

The three men assured him that they would very much like it, and thetwo women looked as if they were of the same opinion. 

Before he began the marine glanced about him, with a certaingood-natured wistfulness which might have indicated, to those whounderstood the countenances of the sea-going classes, a desire to wethis whistle; but if this expression were so intended it was thrownaway, for blacksmith Fryker took no spirits himself, nor furnished themto anybody else. Giving up all hope in this direction, the marine tooka long pull at his pipe and began. 

"It was in the winter of 1878 that I was on the Bay of Bengal, on myway to Calcutta, and about five hundred miles distant from that city. Iwas not on my own ship, but was returning from a leave of absence on anAmerican steamer from San Francisco to Calcutta, where my vessel, theUnited States frigate _Apache_, was then lying. My leave of absencewould expire in three days; but although the _General Brooks_, thevessel I was aboard of, was more of a freight than a passenger vessel, and was heavily laden, we would have been in port in good time if, twodays before, something had not happened to the machinery. I am not amachinist myself, and don't know exactly what it was that was out oforder, but the engine stopped, and we had to proceed under sail. Thatsounds like a slow business; but the _Brooks_ was a clipper-builtvessel with three masts and a lot of sails--square sails, fore-and-aftsails, jib sails, and all that sort of thing. I am not a regular sailormyself, and don't know the names of all the sails; but whatever sailsshe could have she did have, and although she was an iron vessel, andheavily freighted, she was a good sailer. We had a strong, steady windfrom the south, and the captain told me that at the rate we were goinghe didn't doubt that he would get me aboard my vessel before my leaveran out, or at least so soon afterward that it wouldn't make anydifference. 

"Well, as I said, the wind blew strong and steady behind us, the sailswere full, and the spray dashed up at our bow in a way calculated totickle the soul of any one anxious to get to the end of his voyage; andI was one of that sort, I can tell you. 

"In the afternoon of the second day after our engine stopped, I wasstanding at the bow, and looking over, when suddenly I noticed thatthere wasn't any spray dashing up in front of the vessel. I thought wemust have struck a sudden calm, but, glancing up, I saw the sails werefull, and the wind blew fair in my face as I turned toward the stern. Iwalked aft to the skipper, and touching my cap, I said, 'Captain, howis it that when a ship is dashing along at this rate she doesn't throwup any spray with her cutwater?' He grinned a little, and said, 'Butshe does, you know. ' 'If you will come forward, ' said I, 'I'll show youthat she doesn't, ' and then we walked forward, and I showed him thatshe didn't. I never saw a man so surprised. At first he thought thatsomebody had been squirting oil in front, but even if that had been thecase, there would have been some sort of a ripple on each side of thebow, and there wasn't anything of the kind. The skipper took off hiscap and scratched his head. Then he turned and sang out, 'Mr. Rogers, throw the log. '

"Now the log, " said the marine, turning to Mrs. Fryker and herdaughter, "is a little piece of wood with a long line to it, that theythrow out behind a vessel to see how fast she is going. I am not aregular Jack Tar myself, and don't understand the principle of thething, but it tells you exactly how many miles an hour the ship isgoing. 

"In about two minutes Mr. Rogers stepped up, with his eyes like twoauger-holes, and said he, 'Captain, we're makin' no knots an hour. We're not sailing at all. '

"'Get out, ' roared the captain, 'don't you see the sails? Don't youfeel the wind? Throw that log again, sir. '

"Well, they threw the log again, the captain saw it done, and sureenough Mr. Rogers was right. The vessel wasn't moving. With a wind thatought to have carried her spinning along, miles and miles in an hour, she was standing stock-still. The skipper here let out one of thestrongest imprecations used in navigation, and said he, 'Mr. Rogers, isit possible that there is a sand-bar in the middle of the Bay ofBengal, and that we've stuck on it? Cast the lead. '

"I will just state to the ladies, " said the marine, turning toward thetable, "that the lead is a heavy weight that is lowered to the bottomof a body of water to see how deep it is, and this operation is calledsounding. Well, they sounded and they sounded, but everywhere--fore, aft, and midship--they found plenty of water; in fact, not having aline for deep-sea sounding they couldn't touch bottom at all. 

"I can tell you, ladies and gentlemen, " said the marine, looking fromone to the other of the party, "that things now began to feel creepy. Iam not afraid of storms, nor fires at sea, nor any of the commonaccidents of the ocean; but for a ship to stand still with plenty ofwater under her, and a strong wind filling her sails, has more of theuncanny about it than I fancy. Pretty near the whole of the crew was ondeck by this time, and I could see that they felt very much as I did, but nobody seemed to know what to say about it. 

"Suddenly the captain thought that some unknown current was settingagainst us, and forcing the vessel back with the same power that thewind was forcing her forward, and he tried to put the ship about so asto have the wind on her starboard quarter; but as she hadn't anyheadway, or for some other reason, this didn't work. Then it struck himthat perhaps one of the anchors had been accidentally dropped, but theywere all in their places, and if one of them had dropped, its cablewould not have been long enough to touch bottom. 

"Now I could see that he began to look scared. 'Mr. Browser, ' said he, to the chief engineer, 'for some reason or other this ship does notmake headway under sail. You must go to work and get the enginerunning. ' And for the rest of that day everybody on board whounderstood that sort of thing was down below, hard at work with themachinery, hammering and banging like good fellows. 

"The chief officer ordered a good many of the sails to be taken in, forthey were only uselessly straining the masts, but there were enoughleft to move her in case the power of the current, or whatever it wasthat stopped her, had slackened, and she steadily kept her positionwith the breeze abaft. 

"All the crew, who were not working below, were crowded together ondeck, talking about this strange thing. I joined them, and soon foundthat they thought it was useless to waste time and labor on themachinery. They didn't believe it could be mended, and if it should be, how could an engine move a vessel that the wind couldn't stir?

"These men were of many nationalities--Dutch, Scandinavian, Spanish, Italian, South American, and a lot more. Like many other Americanvessels that sail from our ports, nearly all the officers and crew wereforeigners. The captain was a Finlander, who spoke very good English. And the only man who called himself an American was the chief officer;and he was only half a one; for he was born in Germany, came to theUnited States when he was twenty years old, stayed there five years, which didn't count either way, and had now been naturalized for twentyyears. 

"The consequence of this variety in nationality was that the men hadall sorts of ideas and notions regarding the thing that was happening. They had thrown over chips and bits of paper to see if the vessel hadbegun to move, and had found that she didn't budge an inch, and nowthey seemed afraid to look over the sides. 

"They were a superstitious lot, as might be expected, and they allbelieved that, in some way or other, the ship was bewitched; and infact I felt like agreeing with them, although I did not say so. 

"There was an old Portuguese sailor on board, an ugly-looking, weather-beaten little fellow, and when he had listened to everythingthe others had to say, he shuffled himself into the middle of thegroup. 'Look here, mates, ' said he, in good enough English, 'it's nouse talking no more about this. I know what's the matter; I've sailedthese seas afore, and I've been along the coast of this bay all the wayfrom Negapatam to Jellasore on the west coast, and from Chittagong toKraw on the other; and I have heard stories of the strange things thatare in this Bay of Bengal, and what they do, and the worst of them allis the Water-devil--and he's got us!'

"When the old rascal said this, there wasn't a man on deck who didn'tlook pale, in spite of his dirt and his sunburn. The chief officertried to keep his knees stiff, but I could see him shaking. 'What's aWater-devil?' said he, trying to make believe he thought it all stuffand nonsense. The Portuguese touched his forelock. 'Do you remember, sir, ' said he, 'what was the latitude and longitude when you took yourobservation to-day?' 'Yes, ' said the other, 'it was 15° north and 90°east. ' The Portuguese nodded his head. 'That's just about the spot, sir, just about. I can't say exactly where the spot is, but it's justabout here, and we've struck it. There isn't a native seaman on any ofthese coasts that would sail over that point if he knowed it and couldhelp it, for that's the spot where the Water-devil lives. '

"It made me jump to hear the grunt that went through that crowd when hesaid this, but nobody asked any questions, and he went on. 'This hereWater-devil, ' said he, 'is about as big as six whales, and in shapevery like an oyster without its shell, and he fastens himself to therocks at the bottom with a million claws. Right out of the middle ofhim there grows up a long arm that reaches to the top of the water, andat the end of this arm is a fist about the size of a yawl-boat, withfifty-two fingers to it, with each one of them covered with littlesuckers that will stick fast to anything--iron, wood, stone, or flesh. All that this Water-devil gets to eat is what happens to come swimmin'or sailin' along where he can reach it, and it doesn't matter to himwhether it's a shark, or a porpoise, or a shipful of people, and whenhe takes a grab of anything, that thing never gets away. '

"About this time there were five or six men on their knees saying theirprayers, such as they were, and a good many others looked as if theywere just about to drop. 

"'Now, when this Water-devil gets hold of a ship, ' the old fellow wenton, 'he don't generally pull her straight down to the bottom, but holdson to it till he counts his claws, and sees that they are all fastenedto the rocks; for if a good many of them wasn't fastened he might pullhimself loose, instead of pulling the ship down, and then he'd be agoner, for he'd be towed away, and like as not put in a museum. Butwhen he is satisfied that he is moored fast and strong, then he haulson his arm, and down comes the ship, no matter how big she is. As theship is sinkin' he turns her over, every now and then, keel uppermost, and gives her a shake, and when the people drop out, he sucks them intoa sort of funnel, which is his mouth. '

"'Does he count fast?' asked one of the men, this being the firstquestion that had been asked. 

"'I've heard, ' said the Portuguese, 'that he's a rapid calculator, andthe minute he's got to his millionth claw, and finds it's hooked tightand fast, he begins to haul down the ship. '"

At this point the marine stopped and glanced around at the littlegroup. The blacksmith's wife and daughter had put down their work, andwere gazing at him with an air of horrified curiosity. The blacksmithheld his pipe in his hand, and regarded the narrator with thesteadiness and impassiveness of an anvil. The school-master waslistening with the greatest eagerness. He was an enthusiast on NaturalHistory and Mythology, and had written an article for a weekly paper onthe reconciliation of the beasts of tradition with the fauna of to-day. Mr. Harberry was not looking at the marine. His eyes were fixed uponthe school-master. 

"Mr. Cardly, " said he, "did you ever read of an animal like that?"

"I cannot say that I have, " was his reply; "but it is certain thatthere are many strange creatures, especially in the sea, of whichscientists are comparatively ignorant. "

"Such as the sea-serpent, " added the marine, quickly, "and a great manyother monsters who are not in the books, but who have a good time atthe bottom of the sea, all the same. Well, to go on with my story, youmust understand that, though this Portuguese spoke broken English, which I haven't tried to give you, he made himself perfectly plain toall of us, and I can assure you that when he got through talking therewas a shaky lot of men on that deck. 

"The chief officer said he would go below and see how the captain wasgetting on, and the crew huddled together in the bow, and beganwhispering among themselves, as if they were afraid the Water-devilwould hear them. I turned to walk aft, feeling pretty queer, I can tellyou, when I saw Miss Minturn just coming up from the cabin below. 

"I haven't said anything about Miss Minturn, but she and her father, who was an elderly English gentleman and an invalid, who had neverleft his berth since we took him up at Singapore, were our onlypassengers, except, of course, myself. She was a beautiful girl, withsoft blue eyes and golden hair, and a little pale from constantlystaying below to nurse her father. 

"Of course I had had little or nothing to say to her, for her fatherwas a good deal of a swell and I was only a marine; but now she saw mestanding there by myself, and she came right up to me. 'Can you tellme, sir, ' she said, 'if anything else has happened? They are making agreat din in the engine-room. I have been looking out of our port, andthe vessel seems to me to be stationary. ' She stopped at that, andwaited to hear what I had to say, but I assure you I would have likedto have had her go on talking for half an hour. Her voice was rich andsweet, like that of so many Englishwomen, although, I am happy to say, a great many of my countrywomen have just as good voices; and when Imeet any of them for the first time, I generally give them the creditof talking in soft and musical notes, even though I have not had thepleasure of hearing them speak. "

"Look here, " said the blacksmith, "can't you skip the girl and get backto the Devil?"

"No, " said the marine, "I couldn't do that. The two are mixed together, so to speak, so that I have to tell you of both of them. "

"You don't mean to say, " exclaimed Mrs. Fryker, speaking for the firsttime, and by no means in soft and musical tones, "that he swallowedher?"

"I'll go on with the story, " said the marine; "that's the best way, andeverything will come up in its place. Now, of course, I wasn't going totell this charming young woman, with a sick father, anything about theWater-devil, though what reason to give her for our standing still hereI couldn't imagine; but of course I had to speak, and I said, 'Don't bealarmed, miss, we have met with an unavoidable detention; that sort ofthing often happens in navigation. I can't explain it to you, but yousee the ship is perfectly safe and sound, and she is merely under sailinstead of having her engines going. '

"'I understood about that, ' said she, 'and father and I were bothperfectly satisfied; for he said that if we had a good breeze we wouldnot be long in reaching Calcutta; but we seem to have a breeze, andyet we don't go. ' 'You'll notice, ' said I, 'that the sails are not allset, and for some reason the wind does not serve. When the engines aremended, we shall probably go spinning along. ' She looked as if she wastrying to appear satisfied. 'Thank you, sir, ' she said. 'I hope we mayshortly proceed on our way, but in the meantime I shall not sayanything to my father about this detention. I think he has not noticedit. ' 'That would be very wise, ' I replied, and as she turned toward thecompanionway I was wild to say to her that it would be a lot better forher to stay on deck, and get some good fresh air, instead of coopingherself up in that close cabin; but I didn't know her well enough forthat. "

"Now that you are through with the girl, " said the blacksmith, "whatdid the Devil do?"

"I haven't got to him yet, " said the marine, "but after Miss Minturnwent below I began to think of him, and the more I thought of him, theless I liked him. I think the chief officer must have told the menbelow about the Water-devil, for pretty soon the whole kit and boodleof them left their work and came on deck, skipper and all. They told methey had given up the engine as a bad job, and I thought to myself thatmost likely they were all too nervous to rightly know what they wereabout. The captain threw out the log again, but it floated alongsidelike a cork on a fishing-line, and at this he turned pale and walkedaway from the ship's side, forgetting to pull it in again. 

"It was now beginning to grow dark, and as nobody seemed to think aboutsupper, I went below to look into that matter. It wouldn't do for MissMinturn. And her father to go without their regular meal, for thatwould be sure to scare them to death; and if I'm to have a big scare Ilike to take it on a good square meal, so I went below to see about it. But I wasn't needed, for Miss Minturn's maid, who was an elderly woman, and pretty sharp set in her temper, was in the cook's galleysuperintending supper for her people, and after she got through Isuperintended some for myself. 

"After that I felt a good deal bolder, and I lighted a pipe and went ondeck. There I found the whole ship's company, officers and crew, noneof them doing anything, and most of them clustered together in littlegroups, whispering or grunting. 

"I went up to the captain and asked him what he was going to do next. 'Do?' said he; 'there is nothing to do; I've done everything that I cando. I'm all upset; I don't know whether I am myself or some other man';and then he walked away. 

"I sat there and smoked and looked at them, and I can tell you thesight wasn't cheerful. There was the ship, just as good and sound, asfar as anybody could see, as anything that floated on the ocean, andhere were all her people, shivering and shaking and not speaking abovetheir breath, looking for all the world, under the light of the starsand the ship's lamps, which some of them had had sense enough to light, as if they expected in the course of the next half-hour, to be made towalk the plank; and, to tell the truth, what they were afraid of wouldcome to pretty much the same thing. "

"Mr. Cardly, " here interrupted Mr. Harberry, "how long does it take tocount a million?"

"That depends, " said the school-master, "on the rapidity of thecalculator; some calculators count faster than others. An ordinary boy, counting two hundred a minute, would require nearly three days and ahalf to count a million. "

"Very good, " said Mr. Harberry; "please go on with your story, sir. "

"Of course, " said the marine, "there is a great difference between aboy and a Water-devil, and it is impossible for anybody to know howfast the latter can count, especially as he may be supposed to be usedto it. Well, I couldn't stand it any longer on deck, and havingnothing else to do, I turned in and went to sleep. "

"To sleep! Went to sleep!" exclaimed Mrs. Fryker. "I don't see how youcould have done that. "

"Ah, madam, " said the marine, "we soldiers of the sea are exposed toall sorts of dangers, --combination dangers, you might call them, --andin the course of time we get used to it; if we didn't we couldn't doour duty. 

"As the ship had been in its present predicament for six or sevenhours, and nothing had happened, there was no reason to suppose thatthings would not remain as they were for six or seven hours more, inwhich time I might get a good sleep, and be better prepared for whatmight come. There's nothing like a good meal and a good sleep as apreparation for danger. 

"It was daylight when I awakened, and rapidly glancing about me, I sawthat everything appeared to be all right. Looking out of the port-hole, I could see that the vessel was still motionless. I hurried on deck, and was greatly surprised to find nobody there--no one on watch, noone at the wheel, no one anywhere. I ran down into the fo'castle, whichis the sailors' quarters, but not a soul could I see. I called, Iwhistled, I searched everywhere, but no one answered; I could find noone. Then I dashed up on deck, and glared, around me. Every boat wasgone. 

"Now I knew what had happened: the cowardly rascals, from captain tocook, had deserted the ship in the night, and I had been left behind!

"For some minutes I stood motionless, wondering how men could be sounfeeling as to do such a thing. I soon became convinced, from what Ihad seen of the crew, that they had not all gone off together, thatthere had been no concerted action. A number of them had probablyquietly lowered a boat and sneaked away; then another lot had gone off, hoping their mates would not hear them and therefore crowd into theirboat. And so they had all departed, not one boat-load thinking ofanybody but themselves; or if they thought at all about others, quieting their consciences by supposing that there were enough boatson the vessel, and that the other people were as likely to get off asthey were. 

"Suddenly I thought of the other passengers. Had they been left behind?I ran down below, and I had scarcely reached the bottom of the stepswhen I met Miss Minturn's maid. 'It seems to me, ' she said, sharply, 'that the people on this ship are neglecting their duty. There's nobodyin the kitchen, and I want some gruel. ' 'My good woman, ' said I, 'whodo you want it for?' 'Who!' she replied; 'why, for Mr. Minturn, ofcourse; and Miss Minturn may like some, too. '

"Then I knew that all the passengers had been left behind!

"'If you want any gruel, ' said I, 'you will have to go into the galleyand make it yourself'; and then in a low tone I told her what hadhappened, for I knew that it would be much better for me to do thisthan for her to find it out for herself. Without a word she sat rightdown on the floor, and covered her head with her apron. 'Now don't makea row, ' said I, 'and frighten your master and mistress to death; we'reall right so far, and all you've got to do is to take care of Mr. AndMiss Minturn, and cook their meals. The steamer is tight and sound, andit can't be long before some sort of a craft will come by and take usoff. ' I left her sniffling with her apron over her head, but when Icame back, ten minutes afterward, she was in the galley making gruel. 

"I don't think you will be surprised, my friends, " continued themarine, "when I tell you that I now found myself in a terrible state ofmind. Of course I hadn't felt very jovial since the steamer had been sowonderfully stopped; but when the captain and all the crew were aboard, I had that sort of confidence which comes from believing that whenthere are people about whose duty it is to do things, when the timecomes to do the things, they will do them; but now, practicallyspeaking, there was nobody but me. The others on board were not to becounted, except as encumbrances. In truth, I was alone, --alone withthe Water-devil!

"The moment I found no one to depend upon but myself, and that I wasdeserted in the midst of this lonely mass of water, in that moment didmy belief in the Water-devil begin to grow. When I first heard of thecreature, I didn't consider that it was my business either to believein it, or not to believe in it, and I could let the whole thing dropout of my mind, if I chose; but now it was a different matter. I wasbound to think for myself, and the more I thought, the more I believedin the Water-devil. 

"The fact was, there wasn't anything else to believe in. I had goneover the whole question, and the skipper had gone all over it, andeverybody else had gone all over it, and no one could think of anythingbut a Water-devil that could stop a steamer in this way in the middleof the Bay of Bengal, and hold her there hour after hour, in spite ofwind and wave and tide. It could not be anything but the monster thePortuguese had told us of, and all I now could do was to wonderwhether, when he was done counting his million claws, he would be ableto pull down a vessel of a thousand tons, for that was about the sizeof the _General Brooks_. 

"I think I should now have begun to lose my wits if it had not been forone thing, and that was the coming of Miss Minturn on deck. The momentI saw her lovely face I stiffened up wonderfully. 'Sir, ' said she, 'Iwould like to see the captain. ' 'I am representing the captain, miss, 'I said, with a bow; 'what is it that I can do for you?' 'I want tospeak to him about the steward, ' she said; 'I think he is neglectinghis duty. ' 'I also represent the steward, ' I replied; 'tell me what youwish of him. ' She made no answer to this, but looked about her in astartled way. 'Where are all the men?' she said. 'Miss Minturn, 'saidI, 'I represent the crew--in fact, I represent the whole ship's companyexcept the cook, and his place must be taken by your maid. ' 'What doyou mean?' she asked, looking at me with her wide-opened, beautifuleyes. 

"Then, as there was no help for it, I told her everything, except thatI did not mention the Water-devil in connection with our marvellousstoppage. I only said that that was caused by something which nobodyunderstood. 

"She did not sit down and cover her head, nor did she scream or faint. She turned pale, but looked steadily at me, and her voice did not shakeas she asked me what was to be done. 'There is nothing to be done, ' Ianswered, 'but to keep up good hearts, eat three meals a day, and waituntil a ship comes along and takes us off. '

"She stood silent for about three minutes. 'I think, ' she then said, 'that I will not yet tell my father what has happened'; and she wentbelow. 

"Now, strange to say, I walked up and down the deck with my hat cockedon one side and my hands in my pockets, feeling a great deal better. Idid not like Water-devils any more than I did before, and I did notbelieve in this one any less than I did before, but, after all, therewas some good about him. It seems odd, but the arm of this submarinemonster, over a mile long for all that I knew, was a bond of unionbetween the lovely Miss Minturn and me. She was a lady; I was a marine. So far as I knew anything about bonds of union, there wasn't one thatcould have tackled itself to us two, except this long, slippery arm ofthe Water-devil, with one end in the monstrous flob at the bottom, andthe other fast to our ship. 

"There was no doubt about it, if it hadn't been for that Water-devilshe would have been no more to me than the Queen of Madagascar was; butunder the circumstances, if I wasn't everything to her, who could beanything--that is, if one looked at the matter from a practical pointof view?"

The blacksmith made a little movement of impatience. "Suppose you cutall that, " said he. "I don't care about the bond of union; I want toknow what happened to the ship. "

"It is likely, " said the marine, "if I could have cut the bond of unionthat I spoke of, that is to say, the Water-devil's arm, that I wouldhave done it, hoping that I might safely float off somewhere with MissMinturn; but I couldn't cut it then, and I can't cut it now. That bondis part of my story, and it must all go on together. 

"I now set myself to work to do what I thought ought to be done underthe circumstances, but, of course, that wasn't very much. I hoisted aflag upside down, and after considering the matter I concluded to takein all the sails that had been set. I thought that a steamer withoutsmoke coming from her funnel, and no sails set, would be more likely toattract attention from distant vessels than if she appeared to be undersail. 

"I am not a regular sailor, as I said before, but I got out on theyard, and cut the square sail loose and let it drop on the deck, and Ilet the jib come down on a run, and managed to bundle it up some way onthe bowsprit. This sort of thing took all the nautical gymnastics thatI was master of, and entirely occupied my mind, so that I found myselfwhistling while I worked. I hoped Miss Minturn heard me whistle, because it would not only give her courage, but would let her see thatI was not a man who couldn't keep up his spirits in a case like this. 

"When that work was over, I began to wonder what I should do next, andthen an idea struck me. 'Suppose, ' thought I, 'that we are notstationary, but that we are in some queer kind of a current, and thatthe water, ship and all are steadily moving on together, so that afterawhile we shall come in sight of land, or into the track of vessels!'

"I instantly set about to find out if this was the case. It was aboutnoon, and it so happened that on the day before, when the chief officertook his observation, I was seized with a desire to watch him and seehow he did it. I don't see why I should have had this notion, but I hadit, and I paid the strictest attention to the whole business, calculation part and all, and I found out exactly how it was done. 

"Well, then, I went and got the quadrant, --that's the thing they do itwith, --and I took an observation, and I found that we were in latitude15° north, 90° east, exactly where we had been twenty-four hoursbefore!

"When I found out this, I turned so faint that I wanted to sit down andcover up my head. The Water-devil had us, there was no mistake aboutit, and no use trying to think of anything else. I staggered along thedeck, went below, and cooked myself a meal. In a case like this there'snothing like a square meal to keep a man up. 

"I know you don't like to hear her mentioned, " said the marine, turningto the blacksmith, "but I am bound to say that in course of theafternoon Miss Minturn came on deck several times, to ask if anythingnew had happened, and if I had seen a vessel. I showed her all that Ihad done, and told her I was going to hang out lights at night, and dideverything I could to keep her on deck as long as possible; for it waseasy to see that she needed fresh air, and I needed company. As long asI was talking to her I didn't care a snap of my finger for theWater-devil. It is queer what an influence a beautiful woman has on aman, but it's so, and there's no use arguing about it. She said she hadbeen puzzling her brains to find out what had stopped us, and shesupposed it must be that we had run onto a shallow place and stuck fastin the mud, but thought it wonderful that there should be such a placeso far from land. I agreed with her that it was wonderful, and addedthat that was probably the reason the captain and the crew had beenseized with a panic. But sensible people like herself and her father, Isaid, ought not to be troubled by such an occurrence, especially as thevessel remained in a perfectly sound condition. 

"She said that her father was busily engaged in writing his memoirs, and that his mind was so occupied, he had not concerned himself at allabout our situation, that is, if he had noticed that we were notmoving. 'If he wants to see the steward, or anybody else, ' I said, 'please call upon me. You know I represent the whole ship's company, and I shall be delighted to do anything for him or for you. ' Shethanked me very much and went below. 

"She came up again, after this, but her maid came with her, and the twowalked on deck for a while. I didn't have much to say to them thattime; but just before dark Miss Minturn came on deck alone, and walkedforward, where I happened to be. 'Sir, ' said she, and her voicetrembled a little as she spoke, 'if anything should happen, will youpromise me that you will try to save my father?' You can't imagine howthese touching words from this beautiful woman affected me. 'My dearlady, ' said I, and I hope she did not take offence at the warmth of myexpression, 'I don't see how anything can happen; but I promise you, onthe word of a sea-soldier, that if danger should come upon us, I willsave not only your father, but yourself and your maid. Trust me forthat. '

"The look she gave me when I said these words, and especially the flashof her eye when I spoke of my being a sea-soldier, made me feel strongenough to tear that sea-monster's arm in twain, and to sail away withthe lovely creature for whom my heart was beginning to throb. "

"It's a pity, " said the blacksmith, "that you hadn't jumped into thewater while the fit was on you, and done the tearing. "

"A man often feels strong enough to do a thing, " said the marine, "andyet doesn't care to try to do it, and that was my case at that time;but I vowed to myself that if the time came when there was any savingto be done, I'd attend to Miss Minturn, even if I had to neglect therest of the family. 

"She didn't make any answer, but she gave me her hand; and she couldn'thave done anything I liked better than that. I held it as long as Icould, which wasn't very long, and then she went down to her father. "

"Glad of it, " said the blacksmith. 

"When I had had my supper, and had smoked my pipe, and everything wasstill, and I knew I shouldn't see anybody any more that night, I beganto have the quakes and the shakes. If even I had had the maid to talkto, it would have been a comfort; but in the way of faithfullyattending to her employers that woman was a trump. She cooked for them, and did for them, and stuck by them straight along, so she hadn't anytime for chats with me. 

"Being alone, I couldn't help all the time thinking about theWater-devil, and although it seems a foolish thing now that I look backon it, I set to work to calculate how long it would take him to counthis feet. I made it about the same time as you did, sir, " nodding tothe schoolmaster, "only I considered that if he counted twelve hours, and slept and rested twelve hours, that would make it seven days, whichwould give me a good long time with Miss Minturn, and that would be thegreatest of joys to me, no matter what happened afterward. 

"But then nobody could be certain that the monster at the bottom ofthe bay needed rest or sleep. He might be able to count withoutstopping, and how did I know that he couldn't check off four hundredclaws a minute? If that happened to be the case, our time must benearly up. 

"When that idea came into my head, I jumped up and began to walk about. What could I do? I certainly ought to be ready to do something whenthe time came. I thought of getting life-preservers, and strapping oneon each of us, so that if the Water-devil turned over the vessel andshook us out, we shouldn't sink down to him, but would float on thesurface. 

"But then the thought struck me that if he should find the vessel emptyof live creatures, and should see us floating around on the top, all hehad to do was to let go of the ship and grab us, one at a time. When Ithought of a fist as big as a yawl-boat, clapping its fifty-two fingerson me, it sent a shiver through my bones. The fact was there wasn'tanything to do, and so after a while I managed to get asleep, which wasa great comfort. "

"Mr. Cardly, " said Mr. Harberry to the schoolmaster, "what reason canyou assign why a seamonster, such as has been described to us, shouldneglect to seize upon several small boats filled with men who wereescaping from a vessel which it held in custody?"

"I do not precisely see, " answered Mr. Cardly, "why these men shouldhave been allowed this immunity, but I--"

"Oh, that is easily explained, " interrupted the marine, "for of coursethe Water-devil could not know that a lot more people were not left inthe ship, and if he let go his hold on her, to try and grab a boat thatwas moving as fast as men could row it, the steamer might get out ofhis reach, and he mightn't have another chance for a hundred years tomake fast to a vessel. No, sir, a creature like that isn't apt to takeany wild chances, when he's got hold of a really good thing. Anyway, wewere held tight and fast, for at twelve o'clock the next day I tookanother observation, and there we were, in the same latitude andlongitude that we had been in for two days. I took the captain's glass, and I looked all over the water of that bay, which, as I think I havesaid before, was all the same as the ocean, being somewhere about athousand miles wide. Not a sail, not a puff of smoke could I see. Itmust have been a slack season for navigation, or else we were out ofthe common track of vessels; I had never known that the Bay of Bengalwas so desperately lonely. 

"It seems unnatural, and I can hardly believe it, when I look back onit, but it's a fact, that I was beginning to get used to the situation. We had plenty to eat, the weather was fine--in fact, there was now onlybreeze enough to make things cool and comfortable. I was head-man onthat vessel, and Miss Minturn might come on deck at any moment, and aslong as I could forget that there was a Water-devil fastened to thebottom of the vessel, there was no reason why I should not be perfectlysatisfied with things as they were. And if things had stayed as theywere, for two or three months, I should have been right well pleased, especially since Miss Minturn's maid, by order of her mistress, hadbegun to cook my meals, which she did in a manner truly first-class. Ibelieved then, and I stand to it now, that there is do better proof ofa woman's good feeling toward a man, than for her to show an interestin his meals. That's the sort of sympathy that comes home to a man, andtells on him, body and soul. "

As the marine made this remark, he glanced at the blacksmith'sdaughter; but that young lady had taken up her sewing and appeared tobe giving it her earnest attention. He then went on with his story. 

"But things did not remain as they were. The next morning, about halfan hour after breakfast, I was walking up and down the upper deck, smoking my pipe, and wondering when Miss Minturn would be coming up totalk to me about the state of affairs, when suddenly I felt the deckbeneath me move with a quick, sharp jerk, something like, I imagine, asmall shock of an earthquake. 

"Never, in all my life, did the blood run so cold in my veins; my legstrembled so that I could scarcely stand. I knew what had happened, --theWater-devil had begun to haul upon the ship!

"I was in such a state of collapse that I did not seem to have anypower over my muscles; but for all that, I heard Miss Minturn's voiceat the foot of the companion-way, and knew that she was coming on deck. In spite of the dreadful awfulness of that moment, I felt it wouldnever do for her to see me in the condition I was in, and so, shufflingand half-tumbling, I got forward, went below, and made my way to thesteward's room, where I had already discovered some spirits, and I tooka good dram; for although I am not by any means an habitual drinker, being principled against that sort of thing, there are times when aman needs the support of some good brandy or whiskey. 

"In a few minutes I felt more like myself, and went on deck, and therewas Miss Minturn, half-scared to death. 'What is the meaning of thatshock?' she said; 'have we struck anything?' 'My dear lady, ' said I, with as cheerful a front as I could put on, 'I do not think we havestruck anything. There is nothing to strike. ' She looked at me for amoment like an angel ready to cry, and clasping her hands, she said, 'Oh, tell me, sir, I pray you, sir, tell me what has happened. Myfather felt that shock. He sent me to inquire about it. His mind isdisturbed. ' At that moment, before I could make an answer, there wasanother jerk of the ship, and we both went down on our knees, and Ifelt as if I had been tripped. I was up in a moment, however, but shecontinued on her knees. I am sure she was praying, but very soon upshe sprang. 'Oh, what is it, what is it?' she cried; 'I must go to myfather. '

"'I cannot tell you, ' said I; 'I do not know, but don't be frightened;how can such a little shock hurt so big a ship?'

"It was all very well to tell her not to be frightened, but when sheran below she left on deck about as frightened a man as ever stood inshoes. There could be no doubt about it; that horrible beast wasbeginning to pull upon the ship. Whether or not it would be able todraw us down below, was a question which must soon be solved. 

"I had had a small opinion of the maid, who, when I told her the crewhad deserted the ship, had sat down and covered her head; but now I didpretty much the same thing; I crouched on the deck and pulled my capover my eyes. I felt that I did not wish to see, hear, or feelanything. 

"I had sat in this way for about half an hour, and had felt no moreshocks, when a slight gurgling sound came to my ears. I listened for amoment, then sprang to my feet. Could we be moving? I ran to the sideof the ship. The gurgle seemed to be coming from the stern. I hurriedthere and looked over. The wheel had been lashed fast, and the rudderstood straight out behind us. On each side of it there was a ripple inthe quiet water. We were moving, and we were moving backward!

"Overpowered by horrible fascination, I stood grasping the rail, andlooking over at the water beneath me, as the vessel moved slowly andsteadily onward, stern foremost. In spite of the upset condition of mymind, I could not help wondering why the Vessel should move in thisway. 

"There was only one explanation possible: The Water-devil was walkingalong the bottom, and towing us after him! Why he should pull us alongin this way I could not imagine, unless he was making for his home insome dreadful cave at the bottom, into which he would sink, dragging usdown after him. 

"While my mind was occupied with these horrible subjects, some onetouched me on the arm, and turning, I saw Miss Minturn. 'Are we notmoving?' she said. 'Yes, ' I answered, 'we certainly are. ' 'Do you notthink, ' she then asked, 'that we may have been struck by a powerfulcurrent, which is now carrying us onward?' I did not believe this, forthere was no reason to suppose that there were currents which wanderedabout, starting off vessels with a jerk, but I was glad to think thatthis idea had come into her head, and said that it was possible thatthis might be the case. 'And now we are going somewhere' she said, speaking almost cheerfully. 'Yes, we are, ' I answered, and I had to tryhard not to groan as I said the words. 'And where do you think we aregoing?' she asked. It was altogether out of my power to tell that sweetcreature that in my private opinion she, at least, was going to heaven, and so I answered that I really did not know. 'Well, ' she said, 'if wekeep moving, we're bound at last to get near land, or to some placewhere ships would pass near us. '

"There is nothing in this world, " said the marine, "which does a man somuch good in time of danger as to see a hopeful spirit in a woman--thatis, a woman that he cares about. Some of her courage comes to him, andhe is better and stronger for having her alongside of him. "

Having made this remark, the speaker again glanced at the blacksmith'sdaughter. She had put down her work and was looking at him with anearnest brightness in her eyes. 

"Yes, " he continued, "it is astonishing what a change came over me, asI stood by the side of that noble girl. She was a born lady, I was amarine, just the same as we had been before, but there didn't seem tobe the difference between us that there had been. Her words, herspirits, everything about her, in fact, seemed to act on me, to elevateme, to fill my soul with noble sentiments, to make another man of me. Standing there beside her, I felt myself her equal. In life or death Iwould not be ashamed to say, 'Here I am, ready to stand by you, whatever happens. '"

Having concluded this sentiment, the marine again glanced toward theblacksmith's daughter. Her eyes were slightly moist, and her face wasglowing with a certain enthusiasm. 

"Look here, " said the blacksmith, "I suppose that woman goes along withyou into the very maw of the sunken Devil, but I do wish you could takeher more for granted, and get on faster with the real part of thestory. "

"One part is as real as another, " said the marine; "but on we go, andon we did go for the whole of the rest of that day, at the rate ofabout half a knot an hour, as near as I could guess at it. The weatherchanged, and a dirty sort of fog came down on us, so that we couldn'tsee far in any direction. 

"Why that Water-devil should keep on towing us, and where he was goingto take us, were things I didn't dare to think about. The fog did notprevent me from seeing the water about our stern, and I leaned over therail, watching the ripples that flowed on each side of the rudder, which showed that we were still going at about the same uniform rate. 

"But toward evening the gurgling beneath me ceased, and I could seethat the rudder no longer parted the quiet water, and that we hadceased to move. A flash of hope blazed up within me. Had theWater-devil found the ship too heavy a load, and had he given up theattempt to drag it to its under-ocean cave? I went below and had mysupper; I was almost a happy man. When Miss Minturn came to ask me howwe were getting along, I told her that I thought we were doing verywell indeed. I did not mention that we had ceased to move, for shethought that a favorable symptom. She went back to her quarters greatlycheered up. Not so much, I think, from my words, as from my joyfulaspect; for I did feel jolly, there was no doubt about it. If thatWater-devil had let go of us, I was willing to take all the otherchances that might befall a ship floating about loose on the Bay ofBengal. 

"The fog was so thick that night that it was damp and unpleasant ondeck, and so, having hung out and lighted a couple of lanterns, I wentbelow for a comfortable smoke in the captain's room. I was puffingaway here at my ease, with my mind filled with happy thoughts of two orthree weeks with Miss Minturn on this floating paradise, where she wasbound to see a good deal of me, and couldn't help liking me better, anddepending on me more and more every day, when I felt a little jerkingshock. It was the same thing that we had felt before. The Water-devilstill had hold of us!

"I dropped my pipe, my chin fell upon my breast, I shivered all over. In a few moments I heard the maid calling to me, and then she ran intothe room. 'Miss Minturn wants to know, sir, ' she said, 'if you thinkthat shock is a sudden twist in the current which is carrying us on?' Istraightened myself up as well as I could, and in the dim light I donot think she noticed my condition. I answered that I thought it wassomething of that sort, and she went away. 

"More likely, a twist of the Devil's arm, I thought, as I sat therealone in my misery. 

"In ten or fifteen minutes there came two shocks, not very far apart. This showed that the creature beneath us was at work in some way oranother. Perhaps he had reached the opening of his den, and wasshortening up his arm before he plunged down into it with us after him. I couldn't stay any longer in that room alone. I looked for the maid, but she had put out the galley light, and had probably turned in forthe night. 

"I went up, and looked out on deck, but everything was horribly darkand sticky and miserable there. I noticed that my lanterns were notburning, and then I remembered that I had not filled them. But this didnot trouble me. If a vessel came along and saw our lights she wouldprobably keep away from us, and I would have been glad to have a vesselcome to us, even if she ran into us. Our steamer would probably floatlong enough for us to get on board the other one, and almost anythingwould be better than being left alone in this dreadful place, at themercy of the Water-devil. 

"Before I left the deck I felt another shock. This took out of mewhatever starch was left, and I shuffled below and got to my bunk, where I tumbled in and covered myself up, head and all. If there hadbeen any man to talk to, it would have been different, but I don't knowwhen I ever felt more deserted than I did at that time. 

"I tried to forget the awful situation in which I was; I tried to thinkof other things; to imagine that I was drilling with the rest of mycompany, with Tom Rogers on one side of me, and old Humphrey Peters onthe other. You may say, perhaps, that this wasn't exactly the way ofcarrying out my promise of taking care of Miss Minturn and the others. But what was there to do? When the time came to do anything, and Icould see what to do, I was ready to do it; but there was no use ofwaking them up now and setting their minds on edge, when they were allcomfortable in their beds, thinking that every jerk of the Devil's armwas a little twist in the current that was carrying them to Calcutta orsome other desirable port. 

"I felt some shocks after I got into bed, but whether or not there weremany in the night, I don't know, for I went to sleep. It was daylightwhen I awoke, and jumping out of my bunk I dashed on deck. Everythingseemed pretty much as it had been, and the fog was as thick as ever. Iran to the stern and looked over, and I could scarcely believe my eyeswhen I saw that we were moving again, still stern foremost, but alittle faster than before. That beastly Water-devil had taken a restfor the night, and had probably given us the shocks by turning over inhis sleep, and now he was off again, making up for lost time. 

"Pretty soon Miss Minturn came on deck, and bade me good morning, andthen she went and looked over the stern. 'We are still moving on, ' shesaid, with a smile, 'and the fog doesn't seem to make any difference. It surely cannot be long before we get somewhere. ' 'No, miss, ' said I, 'it cannot be very long. ' 'You look tired, ' she said, 'and I don'twonder, for you must feel the heavy responsibility on you. I have toldmy maid to prepare breakfast for you in our cabin. I want my father toknow you, and I think it is a shame that you, the only protector thatwe have, should be shut off so much by yourself; so after this we shalleat together. ' 'After this, ' I groaned to myself, 'we shall be eatentogether. ' At that moment I did not feel that I wanted to breakfastwith Miss Minturn. "

"Mr. Cardly, " said Mr. Harberry to the school-master, "have you everread, in any of your scientific books, that the Bay of Bengal issubject to heavy fogs that last day after day?"

"I cannot say, " answered the school-master, "that my researches intothe geographical distribution of fogs have resulted--"

"As to fogs, " interrupted the marine, "you can't get rid of them, youknow. If you had been in the habit of going to sea, you would know thatyou are likely to run into a fog at any time, and in any weather; andas to lasting, they are just as likely to last for days as for hours. It wasn't the fog that surprised me. I did not consider that of anyaccount at all. I had enough other things to occupy my mind. " Andhaving settled this little matter, he went on with his story. 

"Well, my friends, I did not breakfast with Miss Minturn and herfather. Before that meal was ready, and while I was standing alone atthe stern, I saw coming out of the water, a long way off in the fog, which must have been growing thinner about this time, a dark andmysterious object, apparently without any shape or form. This sightmade the teeth chatter in my head. I had expected to be pulled down tothe Water-devil, but I had never imagined that he would come up to us!

"While my eyes were glued upon this apparition, I could see that wewere approaching it. When I perceived this, I shut my eyes and turnedmy back--I could look upon it no longer. My mind seemed to forsake me;I did not even try to call out and give the alarm to the others. Whyshould I? What could they do?"

"If it had been me, " said Mrs. Fryker, in a sort of gasping whisper, "Ishould have died right there. " The marine turned his eyes in thedirection of the blacksmith's daughter. She was engaged with her work, and was not looking at him. 

"I cannot say, " he continued, "that, had Miss Minturn been there atthat moment, that I would not have declared that I was ready to die forher or with her; but there was no need of trying to keep up hercourage, that was all right. She knew nothing of our danger. Thatterrible knowledge pressed on me alone. Is it wonderful that a humansoul should sink a little under such an awful load?" Without turning toobserve the effect of these last words, the marine went on. "Suddenly Iheard behind me a most dreadful sound. 'Good Heavens, ' I exclaimed, 'can a Water-devil bray?'

"The sound was repeated. Without knowing what I did, I turned. I heardwhat sounded like words; I saw in the fog the stern of a vessel, with aman above it, shouting to me through a speaking-trumpet. 

"I do not know what happened next; my mind must have become confused. When I regained my senses, Miss Minturn, old Mr. Minturn, and the maidwere standing by me. The man had stopped shouting from his trumpet, anda boat was being lowered from the other ship. In about ten minutesthere were half-a-dozen men on board of us, all in the uniform of theBritish navy. I was stiff enough now, and felt myself from top to toea regular marine in the service of my country. I stepped up to theofficer in command and touched my cap. 

"He looked at me and my companions in surprise, and then glancing alongthe deck, said, 'What has happened to this vessel? Who is in command?'I informed him, that, strictly speaking, no one was in command, butthat I represented the captain, officers, and crew of this steamer, the_General Brooks_, from San Francisco to Calcutta, and I then proceededto tell him the whole story of our misfortunes; and concluded bytelling the officer, that if we had not moved since his vessel had comein sight, it was probably because the Water-devil had let go of us, andwas preparing to make fast to the other ship; and therefore it wouldbe advisable for us all to get on board his vessel, and steam away asquickly as possible. 

"The Englishmen looked at me in amazement. 'Drunk!' ejaculated theofficer I had addressed. 'Cracked, I should say, ' suggested another. 'Now, ' spoke up Mr. Minturn, 'I do not understand what I have justheard, ' he said. 'What is a Water-devil? I am astounded. ' 'You neversaid a word of this to me!' exclaimed Miss Minturn. 'You never told methat we were in the grasp of a Water-devil, and that that was thereason the captain and the crew ran away. ' 'No, ' said I, 'I neverdivulged the dreadful danger we were in. I allowed you to believe thatwe were in the influence of a current, and that the shocks we felt werethe sudden twists of that current. The terrible truth I kept to myself. Not for worlds would I have made known to a tenderly nurtured lady, toher invalid father, and devoted servant, what might have crushed theirsouls, driven them to the borders of frenzy; in which case the reliefwhich now has come to us would have been of no avail. '

"The officer stood and steadily stared at me. 'I declare, ' he said, 'you do not look like a crazy man. At what time did this Water-devilbegin to take you in tow?'

"'Yesterday morning, ' I answered. 'And he stopped during last night?'he asked. I replied that that was the case. Then he took off his cap, rubbed his head, and stood silent for a minute. 'We'll look into thismatter!' he suddenly exclaimed, and turning, he and his party left usto ourselves. The boat was now sent back with a message to the Englishvessel, and the officers and men who remained scattered themselves overour steamer, examining the engine-room, hold, and every part of her. 

"I was very much opposed to all this delay; for although the Englishmenmight doubt the existence of the Water-devil, I saw no reason to do so, and in any case I was very anxious to be on the safe side by gettingaway as soon as possible; but, of course, British officers would not beadvised by me, and as I was getting very hungry I went down tobreakfast. I ate this meal alone, for my fellow-passengers seemed tohave no desire for food. 

"I cannot tell all that happened during the next hour, for, to tell thetruth, I did not understand everything that was done. The boat passedseveral times between the two vessels, bringing over a number ofmen--two of them scientific fellows, I think. Another was a diver, whose submarine suit and air-pumping machines came over with him. Hewas lowered over the side, and after he had been down about fifteenminutes he was hauled up again, and down below was the greatesthammering and hauling that ever you heard. The _General Brooks_ was putin charge of an officer and some men; a sail was hoisted to keep her inhand, so that she wouldn't drift into the other ship; and in the midstof all the rowdy-dow we were told that if we liked we might go on boardthe English vessel immediately. 

"Miss Minturn and her party instantly accepted this invitation, andalthough under ordinary circumstances I would have remained to see formyself what these people found out, I felt a relief in the thought ofleaving that vessel which is impossible for me to express, and I gotinto the boat with the others. 

"We were treated very handsomely on board the English vessel, which wasa mail steamship, at that time in the employment of the EnglishGovernment. I told my story at least half-a-dozen times, sometimes tothe officers and sometimes to the men, and whether they believed me ornot, I don't think any one ever created a greater sensation with astory of the sea. 

"In an hour or so the officer in charge of the operations on the_General Brooks_ came aboard. As he passed me on his way to thecaptain, he said, 'We found your Water-devil, my man. ' 'And he trulyhad us in tow?' I cried. 'Yes, you are perfectly correct, ' he said, andwent on to make his report to the captain. "

"Now, then, " said the blacksmith, "I suppose we are going to get to thepint. What did he report?"

"I didn't hear his report, " said the marine, "but everybody soon knewwhat had happened to our unlucky vessel, and I can give you the wholestory of it. The _General Brooks_ sailed from San Francisco to Calcutta, with a cargo of stored electricity, contained in large, strongly madeboxes. This I knew nothing about, not being in the habit of inquiringinto cargoes. Well, in some way or other, which I don't understand, not being a scientific man myself, a magnetic connection was formedbetween these boxes, and also, if I got the story straight, betweenthem and the iron hull of our vessel, so that it became, in fact, anenormous floating magnet, one of the biggest things of the kind onrecord. I have an idea that this magnetic condition was the cause ofthe trouble to our machinery; every separate part of it was probablyturned to a magnet, and they all stuck together. "

"Mr. Cardly, " said Mr. Harberry to the school-master, "I do notsuppose you have given much attention to the study of commerce, andtherefore are not prepared to give us any information in regard tostored electricity as an article of export from this country; butperhaps you can tell us what stored electricity is, and how it is putinto boxes. "

"In regard to the transportation, " answered the school-master, speakinga little slowly, "of encased electric potency, I cannot--"

"Oh, bless me!" interrupted the marine; "that is all simple enough; youcan store electricity and send it all over the world, if you like; inplaces like Calcutta, I think it must be cheaper to buy it than to makeit. They use it as a motive power for sewing-machines, apple-parers, and it can be used in a lot of ways, such as digging post-holes andchurning butter. When the stored electricity in a box is all used up, all you have to do is to connect a fresh box with your machinery, andthere you are, ready to start again. There was nothing strange aboutour cargo. It was the electricity leaking out and uniting itself andthe iron ship into a sort of conglomerate magnet that was out of theway. "

"Mr. Cardly, " said Mr. Harberry, "if an iron ship were magnetized inthat manner, wouldn't it have a deranging effect upon the needle of thecompass?"

The marine did not give the school-master time to make answer. "Generally speaking, " said he, "that sort of thing would interfere withkeeping the vessel on its proper course, but with us it didn't make anydifference at all. The greater part of the ship was in front of thebinnacle where they keep the compass, and so the needle naturallypointed that way, and as we were going north before a south wind, itwas all right. 

"Being a floating magnet, of course, did not prevent our sailing, sowe went along well enough until we came to longitude 90°, latitude 15°north. Now it so happened that a telegraphic cable which had been laiddown by the British Government to establish communication betweenMadras and Rangoon, had broken some time before, and not very far fromthis point. 

"Now you can see for yourselves that when an enormous mass of magneticiron, in the shape of the _General Brooks_, came sailing along there, the part of that cable which lay under us was so attracted by such apowerful and irresistible force that its broken end raised itself fromthe bottom of the bay and reached upward until it touched our ship, when it laid itself along our keel, to which it instantly becamefastened as firmly as if it had been bolted and riveted there. Then, asthe rest of this part of the cable was on the bottom of the bay all theway to Madras, of course we had to stop; that's simple enough. That'sthe way the Water-devil held us fast in one spot for two days. 

"The British Government determined not to repair this broken cable, butto take it up and lay down a better one; so they chartered a largesteamer, and fitted her up with engines, and a big drum that they usefor that sort of thing, and set her to work to wind up the Madras endof the broken cable. She had been at this business a good while beforewe were caught by the other end, and when they got near enough to usfor their engines to be able to take up the slack from the bottombetween us and them, then of course they pulled upon us, and we beganto move. And when they lay to for the night, and stopped the windingbusiness, of course we stopped, and the stretch of cable between thetwo ships had no effect upon us, except when the big mail steamerhappened to move this way or that, as they kept her head to the wind;and that's the way we lay quiet all night except when we got ourshocks. 

"When they set the drum going again in the morning, it wasn't longbefore they wound us near enough for them to see us, which they wouldhave done sooner if my lights hadn't gone out so early in the evening. "

"And that, " said the blacksmith, with a somewhat severe expression onhis face, "is all that you have to tell about your wonderfulWater-devil!"

"All!" said the marine; "I should say it was quite enough, and nothingcould be more wonderful than what really happened. A Water-devil is oneof two things: he is real, or he's not real. If he's not real, he's nomore than an ordinary spook or ghost, and is not to be practicallyconsidered. If he's real, then he's an alive animal, and can be put ina class with other animals, and described in books, because even ifnobody sees him, the scientific men know how he must be constructed, and then he's no more than a great many other wonderful things, whichwe can see alive, stuffed, or in plaster casts. 

"But if you want to put your mind upon something really wonderful, justthink of a snake-like rope of wire, five or six hundred miles long, lying down at the very bottom of the great Bay of Bengal, with no morelife in it than there is in a ten-penny nail. 

"Then imagine that long, dead wire snake to be suddenly filled withlife, and to know that there was something far up above it, on thesurface of the water, that it wants to reach up to and touch. Think ofit lifting and flapping its broken end, and then imagine it raisingyard after yard of itself up and up, through the solemn water, more andmore of it lifting itself from the bottom, curling itself backward andforward as it rises higher and higher, until at last, with a suddenjump that must have ripped a mile or more of it from the bottom, itclaps its end against the thing it wants to touch, and which it canneither see, nor hear, nor smell, but which it knows is there. Couldthere be anything in this world more wonderful than that?

"And then, if that isn't enough of a wonder, think of the Rangoon endof that cable squirming and wriggling and stretching itself out towardour ship, but not being able to reach us on account of a want of slack;just as alive as the Madras part of the cable, and just as savage andfrantic to get up to us and lay hold of us; and then, after our vesselhad been gradually pulled away from it, think of this other partgetting weaker and weaker, minute by minute, until it falls flat onthe bay, as dead as any other iron thing!"

The marine ceased to speak, and Mrs. Fryker heaved a sigh. 

"It makes me shiver to think of all that down so deep, " she said; "butI must say I am disappointed. "

"In what way?" asked the marine. 

"A Water-devil, " said she, "as big as six whales, and with a funnellymouth to suck in people, is different; but, of course, after all, itwas better as it was. "

"Look here, " said the blacksmith, "what became of the girl? I wantedher finished up long ago, and you haven't done it yet. "

"Miss Minturn, you mean, " said the marine. "Well, there is not much tosay about her. Things happened in the usual way. When the danger wasall over, when she had other people to depend upon besides me, and wewere on board a fine steamer, with a lot of handsomely dressed navalofficers, and going comfortably to Madras, of course she thought nomore of the humble sea-soldier who once stood between her and--nobodyknew what. In fact, the only time she spoke to me after we got on boardthe English steamer, she made me feel, although she didn't say it inwords, that she was not at all obliged to me for supposing that shewould have been scared to death if I had told her about theWater-devil. "

"I suppose, " said the blacksmith, "by the time you got back to yourship you had overstayed your leave of absence a good while. Did yourcaptain let you off when you told him this story of the new-fashionedWater-devil?"

The marine smiled. "I never went back to the _Apache_, " he said. "WhenI arrived at Madras I found that she had sailed from Calcutta. It was, of course, useless for me to endeavor to follow her, and I thereforeconcluded to give up the marine service for a time and go into anotherline of business, about which it is too late to tell you now. "

"Mr. Cardly, " said Mr. Harberry to the school-master, "have you everread that the British Government has a submarine cable from Madras toRangoon?"

The marine took it upon himself to answer this question. "The cable ofwhich I spoke to you, " he said, "was taken up, as I told you, and Inever heard that another one was laid. But it is getting late, and Ithink I will go to bed; I have a long walk before me to-morrow. " Sosaying he rose, put his pipe upon the mantel-piece, and bade thecompany good night. As he did so, he fixed his eyes on the blacksmith'sdaughter, but that young lady did not look at him; she was busilyreading the weekly newspaper, which her father had left upon the table. 

Mr. Harberry now rose, preparatory to going home; and as he buttoned uphis coat, he looked from one to another of the little group, andremarked, "I have often heard that marines are a class of men who areconsidered as fit subjects to tell tough stories to, but it strikes methat the time has come when the tables are beginning to be turned. "