. 
 
 , 
 
 
 =$* 
 
 
THE 
 
 Jf G V 
 
 RUDDER GRANGERS 
 ABROAD 
 
 AND OTHER STORIES 
 
 BY 
 
 FRANK R. STOCKTON 
 
 NEW YORK 
 
 CHARLES SCRIBNER S SONS 
 1891 
 
COPYRIGHT, 1891, 
 BY CHARLES SCRIBNER S SONS, 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 I. EUPHEMIA AMONG THE PELICANS 1 
 
 II. THE RUDDER GRANGERS IN ENGLAND .... 32 
 
 III. POMONA S DAUGHTER 53 
 
 IV. DERELICT 78 
 
 V. THE BAKER OF BARNBURY 135 
 
 VI. THE WATER-DEVIL . 14G 
 
 269282 
 
EUPHEMIA AMONG THE PELICANS, 
 
 THE sun shone warm and soft, as it shines in 
 winter time in the semi-tropics. The wind blew 
 strong, as it blows whenever and wherever it listeth. 
 Seven pelicans labored slowly through the air. A 
 flock of ducks rose from the surface of the river. 
 A school of mullet, disturbed by a shark, or some 
 other unscrupulous pursuer, sprang suddenly out of 
 the water just before us, and fell into it again like 
 the splashing of a sudden shower. 
 
 I lay upon the roof of the cabin of a little yacht. 
 Euphemia stood below, her feet upon the mess-chest, 
 and her elbows resting on the edge of the cabin roof. 
 A sudden squall would have unshipped her ; still, if 
 one would be happy, there are risks that must be 
 assumed. At the open entrance of the cabin, busily 
 writing on a hanging-shelf that served as a table, sat 
 a Paying Teller. On the high box which during most 
 of the day covered our stove was a little lady, writing 
 in a note-book. On the forward deck, at the foot of 
 the mast, sat a young man in a state of placidness. 
 His feet stuck out on the bowsprit, while his mildly 
 contemplative eyes went forth unto the roundabout. 
 
 1 
 
AMONG THE PELICANS. 
 
 At the tiller stood our guide and boatman, his sombre 
 eye steady on the south-by-east. Around the horizon 
 of his countenance there spread a dark and six-days 
 beard, like a slowly rising thunder-cloud; ever and 
 anon 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 that face. It never 
 stormed, but it was always cloudy. But he was the 
 best boatman on those waters, and when he stood at 
 the helm we knew we sailed secure. We wanted a 
 man familiar with storms and squalls, and if this 
 familiarity had developed into facial sympathy, it 
 mattered not. We could attend to our own sunshine. 
 At his feet sat humbly his boy of twelve, whom we 
 called " the crew/ He was making fancy knots in a 
 bit of rope. This and the occupation of growing up 
 were the only labors in which he willingly engaged. 
 
 Euphemia and I had left Eudder Grange, to spend 
 a month or two in Florida, and we were now on a 
 little sloop-yacht on the bright waters of the Indian 
 River. It must not be supposed that, because we 
 had a Paying Teller with us, we had set up a floating 
 bank. With this Paying Teller, from a distant State, 
 we had made acquaintance on our first entrance into 
 Florida. He was travelling in what Euphemia called 
 "a group," which consisted of his wife, the little 
 lady with the note-book, the contemplative young 
 man on the forward deck, and himself. 
 
 This Paying Teller had worked so hard and so rap 
 idly at his business for several years, and had paid 
 out so much of his health and strength, t"hat it was 
 
EUPHEMIA AMONG THE PELICANS. 3 
 
 necessary for him to receive large deposits of these 
 essentials before he could go to work again. But the 
 peculiar habits of his profession never left him. He 
 was continually paying out something. If you pre 
 sented a conversational check to him in the way of a 
 remark, he would, figuratively speaking, immediately 
 jump to his little window and proceed to cash it, 
 sometimes astonishing you by the amount of small 
 change he would spread out before you. 
 
 When he heard of our intention to cruise on Indian 
 River he wished to join his group to our party, and 
 as he was a good fellow we were glad to have him 
 do so. His wife had been, or was still, a school 
 teacher. Her bright and cheerful face glistened with 
 information. 
 
 The contemplative young man was a distant con 
 nection of the Teller, and his first name being Quincy, 
 was commonly called Quee. If he had wanted to know 
 any of the many things the little teacher wished to 
 tell he would have been a happy youth ; but his con 
 templation seldom crystallized into a knowledge of 
 what he did want to know. 
 
 " And how can I," she once said to Euphemia and 
 myself, "be expected ever to offer him any light 
 when he can never bring himself to actually roll up 
 a question ? " 
 
 This was said while I was rolling a cigarette. 
 
 The group was greatly given to writing in jour 
 nals, and making estimates. 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 in 
 
4 EUPHEMIA AMONG THE PELICANS. 
 
 which the Paying Teller was now engaged was the 
 writing of his journal, and his wife held a pencil in 
 her kidded fingers and a little blank-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, but where is the Indian 
 River ? " 
 
 "It is here," I said. 
 
 " But where is here ? " reiterated Eupheinia. 
 
 " There are only three places in the world," said the 
 teacher, looking up from her book, "here, there, 
 and we don t know where. Every spot on earth is in 
 one or the other of those three places." 
 
 "As far as I am concerned," said Euphemia, "the 
 Indian Kiver is in the last place." 
 
 "Then we must hasten to take it out," said the 
 teacher, and she dived into the cabin, soon reappear 
 ing with a folding map of Florida. " Here," she said, 
 " do you see that wide river running along part of the 
 Atlantic coast of the State, and extending down as far 
 as Jupiter Inlet ? That is Indian River, and we are 
 on it. Its chief characteristics are that it is not a 
 river, but an arm of the sea, and that it is full of fish." 
 
 "It seems to me to be so full," said I, "that there 
 is not room for them 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 an unknown region on the map, and felt 
 I was there." 
 
EUPHEMIA AMONG THE PELICANS. 5 
 
 Our plans for travel and living were very simple. 
 We had provided ourselves on starting with provisions 
 for several weeks, and while on the river we cooked 
 and ate on board our little vessel. When we reached 
 Jupiter Inlet we intended to go into camp. Every 
 night we anchored near the shore. Euphemia and I 
 occupied the cabin of the boat ; a tent was pitched on 
 shore for the Teller and his wife ; there was another 
 tent for the captain and his boy, and this was shared 
 by the contemplative young man. 
 
 Our second night on the river was tinged with inci 
 dent. We had come to anchor near a small settle 
 ment, and our craft had been moored to a rude wharf. 
 About the middle of the night a wind-storm arose, and 
 Euphemia and 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 very 
 dark, and I began to consider the question whether or 
 not it would be necessary for me to get up, much pre 
 ferring, however, that the wind should go down. Be 
 fore I had made up my mind we heard a step on the 
 cabin above us, and then a quick and hurried tramp 
 ing. I put my head out of the little window by me, 
 and cried 
 
 "Who s there?" 
 
 The voice of the boatman replied out of the dark 
 ness : 
 
 "She ll bump herself to pieces against this pier! 
 I m going to tow you out into the stream." And so 
 he cast us loose, and getting into the little boat which 
 was fastened to our stern, and always followed us as 
 
6 EUPHEMIA AMONG THE PELICANS. 
 
 a colt its mother, he towed us far out into the stream. 
 There he anchored us, and rowed away. The bumps 
 now ceased, but the wind still blew violently, the 
 waves ran high, and the yacht continually wobbled up 
 and down, tugging and jerking at her anchor. Neither 
 of us was frightened, but we could not sleep. 
 
 " I know nothing can happen," said Euphemia, " for 
 he would not have left us here if everything had not 
 been all right, but one might as well try to sleep in a 
 corn-popper as in this bed." 
 
 After a while the violent motion ceased, and there 
 was nothing but a gentle surging up and down. 
 
 " I am so glad the wind has lulled," said Euphemia, 
 from the other side of the centre-board partition which 
 partially divided the cabin. 
 
 Although I could still hear the wind blowing strongly 
 outside, I too was glad that its force had diminished 
 so far that we felt no more the violent 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 sprang out of bed, and 
 found that we had run, stern foremost, upon a sandy 
 beach. About forty feet away, upon the shore, stood 
 two possums, gazing with white, triangular faces 
 upon our stranded craft. Except these, and some 
 ducks swimming near us, with seven pelicans flying 
 along on the other side of the river, there was no sign 
 of life within the 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 cable which 
 
EUPHEMIA AMONG THE PELICANS. 7 
 
 had caused the uneasy jerking of our little yacht to 
 cease. We had been blown I knew not how far down 
 the river, for the storm had t3ome from the north, and 
 had stranded I knew not where. Taking out my 
 pocket-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 very strong, 
 from the southeast. I made up my mind what must 
 be done. We were probably far from the settlement 
 and the rest of the party, and we must go back. The 
 wind was in our favor, and I knew I could sail the 
 boat. I had never sailed a boat in my life, and was 
 only too glad to have the opportunity, untrammelled 
 by any interference. 
 
 I awoke Euphemia and told her what had happened. 
 The two possums stood upon the shore, and listened 
 to our coversation. Euphemia was much impressed 
 by the whole affair, and for a time said nothing. 
 
 " We must sail her back, I suppose/ she remarked 
 at length, "but do you know how to start her?" 
 
 " The hardest thing to do is to get her off the beach," 
 I answered, "but I 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 yacht 
 afloat, and then went on board to set the sail. After 
 much pulling and tugging, and making myself very 
 warm, I hoisted the main-sail. I did not trouble 
 myself about the jib, one sail being enough for me to 
 begin with. As the wind was blowing in the direction 
 
8 EUPHEMIA AMONG THE PELICANS. 
 
 in which, we wished to go, I let the sail out until it 
 stood nearly at right angles with the vessel, and was 
 delighted to see that wa immediately began to move 
 through the water. I took the tiller, and steered 
 gradually toward the middle of the river. The wind 
 blew steadily, and the yacht moved bravely on. I was 
 as proud as a man drawn by a conquered lion, and as 
 happy 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 skimmed the surface 
 of the water, and sometimes the sail gave a little jerk 
 and flap, but I saw no necessity for changing our 
 course, and kept our bow pointed steadily up the river. 
 I was delighted that the direction of the wind enabled 
 me to sail with what might be called a horizontal 
 deck. Of course, as the boatman afterward informed 
 me, this was the most dangerous way I could steer, 
 for if the sail should suddenly "jibe," there would 
 be no knowing what would happen. Euphemia sat 
 near me, perfectly placid and cheerful, and her abso 
 lute trust in me gave me renewed confidence and 
 pleasure. "There is one great comfort," she remarked, 
 as she sat gazing into the water, " if anything should 
 happen to the boat, we can get out and walk." 
 
 There was force in this remark, for the Indian 
 River in some of its widest 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. 
 
EUPHEMIA AMONG THE PELICANS. 9 
 
 On we went and on, the yacht seeming sometimes 
 a little restive and impatient, and sometimes rolling 
 more 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 the clear 
 blue sky. 
 
 In the midst of my gazing there came a shock that 
 knocked the tiller out of my hand. Euphemia sprang 
 to her feet and screamed; there were screams and 
 shouts on the other side of the sail, which seemed to 
 be wrapping itself about some object I could not see. 
 In an instant another mast beside our own appeared 
 above the main-sail, and then a man with a red face 
 jumped on the forward deck. With a quick, deter 
 mined air, and without saying a word, or seeming to 
 care for my permission, he proceeded to lower our sail ; 
 then he stepped up on top of the cabin, and looking 
 down at me, inquired what in thunder I was trying 
 to do. 
 
 I made no answer, but looked steadily before me. 
 Now that the sail was down, I could see what had 
 happened. I had collided with a yacht which we had 
 seen before. It was larger than ours, and contained a 
 grandfather and a grandmother, a father and a mother, 
 several aunts, and a great many children. They had 
 started on the river the same day as ourselves, but did 
 not intend to take so extended a trip as ours was 
 to be. The whole party was now in the greatest 
 confusion. I did not understand what they said, nor 
 did I attend to it. I was endeavoring, for my self , to 
 
10 EUPHEMIA AMONG THE PELICANS. 
 
 grasp the situation. Euphemia was calling to me 
 from the cabin, into which she had retreated; the 
 man was still talking to me from the cabin roof, and 
 the people in the other boat were vociferating and 
 screaming; but I paid no attention to any one until I 
 had satisfied myself that nothing serious had hap 
 pened. I had not run into them head on, but had 
 come up diagonally, and the side of our bow had 
 struck the side of their stern. The collision, as I 
 afterward learned, had happened in this wise : I had 
 not seen the other boat because, lying back as I had 
 been, the sail concealed her from me, and they had not 
 seen us because their boatman was in the forward 
 part of their cabin, collecting materials for breakfast, 
 and the tiller was left in charge of one of the boys, 
 who, like all the rest of his party who sat outside, had 
 discreetly turned his back to the sun. 
 
 The grandfather stood up in the stern. He wore a 
 black silk hat, and carried a heavy grape-vine cane. 
 Unsteadily balancing himself on his legs, and shaking 
 his cane at me, he cried : 
 
 " What is the meaning of this, sir ? Are you try 
 ing to drown a whole family, sir ? " 
 
 " If he d run his bowsprit in among you," said the 
 boatman from the cabin 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 his cabin roof, shouting some 
 thing to me ; the women in the other boat were vio 
 lently talking among themselves ; some of the little 
 children were crying ; the girls were hanging to the 
 
EUPHEMIA AMONG THE PELICANS. 11 
 
 ladies, and all the boys were clambering on board our 
 boat. It was a time of great excitement, and some 
 thing 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 party can t drink it. If you have 
 any tea, I should like to borrow some. I can send it 
 to you when we reach a store." 
 
 From every person of the other party came, as in a 
 chorus, the one word, " 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 old gentleman. 
 
 " I did not intend, of course, to strike you so hard," 
 I said, " and I am sorry 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 the red-faced boatman, " but I never heerd 
 of a thing like this since I was first born, nor ever shall 
 again, I hope." 
 
 "I don t want you to give me any tea," I said. 
 "I shall certainly return it, and a very little will do 
 just a handful." 
 
 The two boats had not drifted apart, for the father, 
 
12 EUPHEMIA AMONG THE PELICANS. 
 
 standing on the cabin roof, had held tightly to our 
 rigging, and the boatman, still muttering, 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 was approaching us. " We told him we d 
 look out for you, but we didn t think you d come 
 smashing into us like this." 
 
 In a few moments our boatman had pulled along 
 side, his face full of a dark 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 gen 
 tleman. And every one of his party burst out laughing. 
 
 Much was now said, chiefly by the party of the 
 other part, but our boatman paid little attention to 
 any of it. The boys scrambled on board their own 
 vessel. We pushed apart, hoisted sail, and were soon 
 speeding away. 
 
 "Good bye!" shouted the father, a genial man. 
 " Let us know if you want any more groceries, and 
 we ll send them to you." 
 
 For six days from our time of starting we sailed 
 down the Indian Eiver. Sometimes the banks were 
 miles apart, and sometimes they were very near each 
 other; sometimes we would come upon a solitary 
 house, or little cluster of dwellings ; and then there 
 would be many, many miles of wooded shore before 
 another human habitation was to be seen. Inland, to 
 the west, stretched a vast expanse of lonely forest 
 where panthers, bears, and wild-cats prowled. To the 
 
EUPHEMIA AMONG THE PELICANS. 13 
 
 east lay a long strip of land, through whose tall pal- 
 mettoes came the roar of the great ocean. The blue 
 sky sparkled over us every day ; now and then we met 
 a little solitary craft ; countless water-fowl were scat 
 tered about on the surface of the stream ; a school of 
 mullet was usually jumping into the air ; an alligator 
 might sometimes be seen steadily swimming across 
 the river, with only his nose and back exposed ; and 
 nearly always, either to the right or to the left, going 
 north or going south, were seven pelicans, slowly flop 
 ping through the air. 
 
 A portion of the river, far southward, called "The 
 Narrows," presented a very peculiar scene. The banks 
 were scarcely fifty feet apart, and yet there were no 
 banks. The river was shut in to the right by the 
 inland shore, and to the left by a far-reaching island, 
 and yet there was no inland shore, nor any island to 
 the left. On either side were great forests of man 
 grove trees > standing tiptoe on their myriad down- 
 dropping roots, each root midleg in the water. As 
 far as we could see among the trees, there was no sign 
 of ground of any kind nothing but a grotesque net 
 work of roots, on which the forest stood. In this 
 green-bordered avenue of water, which extended nine 
 or ten miles, the thick foliage shut out the breeze, and 
 our boatman was obliged to go ahead in his little boat 
 and tow us along. 
 
 "There are Indians out West," said Euphemia, as 
 she sat gazing into the mangroves, " who live on roots, 
 but I don t believe they could live on these. The pap- 
 pooses would certainly fall through." 
 
14 EUPHEMIA AMONG THE PELICANS. 
 
 At Jupiter Inlet, about a hundred and fifty miles 
 from our point of starting, we went into carnp, in 
 which delightful condition we proposed to remain for 
 a week or more. There was no trouble whatever in 
 finding a suitable place for a camp. The spot selected 
 was a point of land swept by cool breezes, with a pal 
 metto forest in the rear of it. On two sides of the 
 point stretched the clear waters of the river, while 
 half a mile to the east was Jupiter Inlet, on each side 
 of which rolled and tumbled the surf of the Atlantic. 
 About a mile away was Jupiter Light-house, the only 
 human habitation within "twenty miles. We built a 
 palmetto hut for a kitchen; we set up the tents in 
 a permanent way ; we constructed a little pier for the 
 yacht ; we built a wash-stand, a table, and a bench . 
 And then, considering that we had actually gone into 
 camp, we got out our fishing-lines. 
 
 Fishing was to be the great work here. Near the 
 Inlet, through which the 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 except 
 Sunday, and fished. Such fishing we had never im 
 agined ! there were so many fishes, and they were 
 so big. The Paying Teller had never fished in his life 
 before he came to Florida. He had tried at St. Augus 
 tine, with but little success. " If the sport had been 
 to chuck fish into the river," he had said, " that would 
 be more in my line of business ; but getting them out 
 of it did not seem to suit me." But here it was quite 
 a different thing. It was a positive delight to him, he 
 said, to be obliged so often to pay out his line. 
 
EUPHEMIA AMONG THE PELICANS. 15 
 
 One day, when tired of struggling with gamy blue- 
 fish and powerful cavalios (if that is the way to 
 spell it), I wound up my line, and looked about to see 
 what the others were doing. The Paying Teller stood 
 near, on tiptoe, as usual, with his legs wide apart, his 
 hat thrown back, his eyes flashing over the water, and 
 his right arm stretched far out, ready for a jerk. Quee 
 was farther along the beach. He had just landed a 
 fish, and was standing gazing meditatively upon it as 
 it lay upon the sand. The hook was still in its mouth, 
 and every now and then he would give the line a little 
 pull, as if to see if there really was a connection 
 between it and the fish. Then he would stand a little 
 longer, and meditate a little more, still looking alter 
 nately at the line and the fish. Having made up his 
 mind, at last, that the two things must be separated, 
 he kneeled down upon his flopping prize and proceeded 
 meditatively to extract the hook. The teacher was 
 struggling at her line. Hand over hand she pulled it 
 in. As it came nearer and nearer, her fish swam wildly 
 from side to side, making the tightened line fairly hiss 
 as it swept through the water. But still she pulled 
 and pulled, until, red and breathless, she landed her 
 prize upon the sand. 
 
 "Hurrah!" shouted the Paying Teller. " That s 
 the biggest blue-fish yet ! " But he did not come to 
 take the fish from the hook. He was momentarily 
 expecting a bite. 
 
 Euphemia was not to be seen. This did not sur 
 prise me, as she frequently gave up fishing long before 
 the others, and went to stroll upon the sea-beach, a 
 
16 EUPHEMIA AMONG THE PELICANS. 
 
 few hundred yards away. She was fond of fishing, 
 but it soon tired her. " If you want to know what it 
 is like," she wrote to a friend in the North, " just tie 
 a long string around your boy Charlie, 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 so along the sand, but did not find 
 her. She had gone around the little bluff 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 a large piece of fish. It was thrown out 
 every day, the land end tied to a stout stake driven into 
 the sand, and the whole business given into the charge 
 of "the crew," who was to report if a shark should 
 bite. But to-day the little rascal had wandered away, 
 and Euphemia was managing the line. 
 
 " I thought I would try to catch a shark all by my 
 self," she said. " I wonder if there s one on the hook 
 now. Would you mind feeling the line ? " 
 
 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 no doubt upon the subject." 
 
 "It would be a splendid thing to catch the first 
 one," she said, "and there must be lots of them in 
 here, for we have seen their back fins so often." 
 
 I was about to answer this remark when I began to 
 walk out into the water. .1 did not at the time know 
 exactly why I did this, but it seemed as if some one 
 had taken me by the hand and was leading me into the 
 depths. But the water splashing above my ankles 
 and a scream from Euphemia made me drop the line, 
 
EUPHEMIA AMONG THE PELICANS. 17 
 
 which immediately spun out to its full length, making 
 the stake creak and move in the sand. 
 
 " Goodness gracious ! " cried Euphemia, her face 
 pale as the beach. " Isn t it 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 it will 
 hold him ! " I cried. " He can t pull that out ! " 
 
 "But how are we to pull him in?" exclaimed 
 Euphemia. " This line is as tight as a guitar-string." 
 
 This was true. I took hold of the rope, but could 
 make no impression on it. 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 creature like 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 line quickly around the top of 
 the stake as I pull it in." 
 
 Euphemia knelt down and rapidly wound several 
 yards of the slack cord around the stake. In a few 
 moments it tightened again, jerking itself out of my 
 hand. 
 
 "There, now!" said Euphemia. "He is off again! 
 You can never haul him in, now." 
 
 "Just wait," I said. "When he finds that he cannot 
 break away he rushes toward shore, trying to bite the 
 line above the chain. Then I must haul it in and you 
 
18 EUPHEMIA AMONG THE PELICANS. 
 
 must wind it up. If you and I and the shark continue 
 to act in this way, perhaps, after a time, we may 
 get him into shallow water. But don t scream or 
 shout. I don t want the others to know anything 
 about it." 
 
 Sure enough, in a minute or two the line slackened 
 again, when it was rapidly 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 a little cloud, could be seen near the 
 surface, about fifteen yards away. Then his back fin 
 rose, his tail splashed violently for an instant, and he 
 disappeared. Again the line was loosened, and again 
 the slack was hauled in and wound up. This was 
 repeated, I don t know how many times, when sud 
 denly the shark in his desperation rushed into shallow 
 water and grounded himself. He would have floun 
 dered off in a few moments, however, had we not 
 quickly tightened the line. Now we could see him 
 plainly. He was eight or nine feet long and strug 
 gled violently, exciting Euphemia so much that it 
 was only by clapping her hand over her mouth that 
 she prevented herself from screaming. I would have 
 pulled the shark farther in shore, but this was impos 
 sible, and it was needless to expect him to move him 
 self into shallower water. So, quickly rolling up my 
 trousers, I seized the axe and waded in toward the 
 floundering creature. 
 
 " You needn t be afraid to go right up to him," said 
 
EUPHEMIA AMONG THE PELICANS. 19 
 
 Euphemia. "So long as he don t turn over on his 
 back he can t bite you." 
 
 I had heard this bit of natural history before, but, 
 nevertheless, I went no nearer to the shark tlmn was 
 necessary in t)rder to whack him over the head with 
 the axe. This I did several times, with such effect 
 that he soon became a dead shark. 
 
 When I came out triumphant, Euphemia seized me 
 in her arms and kissed me. 
 
 " This is perfectly splendid ! " she said. " Who can 
 show as big a fish as this 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 in them." 
 
 The boatman was now seen approaching in his boat 
 to take the party back to camp, and the " crew," having 
 returned to his duty, was sent off in a state of absolute 
 amazement to tell the others to come and look at our 
 prize. Our achievement certainly created a sensation. 
 Even the boatman could find no words to express his 
 astonishment. He waded in and fastened a rope to 
 the shark s tail, and then we all took hold and hauled 
 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," I said. 
 
 This seemed to Euphemia a capital idea. She would 
 be delighted to have such a trophy of our deed, and 
 
20 EUPHEMIA AMONG THE PELICANS. 
 
 the boatman was set to work to cut a suitable strip 
 from the fish. And this belt, having been properly 
 tanned, lined, and fitted with buckles, is now one of 
 her favorite adornments, and cost, I am bound to add, 
 about three times as much as any handsome leathern 
 belt to be bought in the stores. 
 
 Every day the Paying Teller, his wife, and Quee 
 carefully set down in their note-books the weight of 
 fish each individual had caught, with all necessary 
 details and specifications relating thereunto ; every 
 day we wandered on the beach, or explored the trop 
 ical recesses of the palmetto woods ; every evening 
 the boatman rowed over to the light-house to 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 every morning, going ocean ward, 
 and every evening, going landward, seven pelicans 
 flew slowly by our camp. 
 
 My greatest desire at this time was to shoot a 
 pelican, to have him properly prepared, and to take 
 him to E-udder Grange, where, suitably set up, with 
 his wings spread out, full seven feet from tip to tip, 
 he would be a grand trophy and reminder of these 
 Indian Eiver days. This was the reason why, nearly 
 every morning and every evening, I took a shot at 
 these seven pelicans. But I never hit one of them. 
 We had only a shot-gun, and the pelicans flew at a 
 precautionary distance; but, being such big birds, 
 they always looked to me much nearer than they 
 were. Euphemia earnestly desired that I should 
 have a pelican, and although she always wished I 
 
EUPHEMIA AMONG THE PELICANS. 21 
 
 should hit one of these, she was always glad when 
 I did not. 
 
 "Think how mournful it would be," she said, "if 
 they should take their accustomed flights, morning 
 and evening, with one of their number missing." 
 
 "Kepeating Wordsworth s verses, I suppose," re- 
 *inarked the little teacher. 
 
 I had been disappointed in the number of pelicans 
 we had seen. I knew that Florida was one of the 
 homes of the pelican, and I had not expected to see 
 these birds merely in small detachments. But our 
 boatman assured me that on our return trip he would 
 give me a chance of seeing and shooting as many pel 
 icans as I could desire. We would touch 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, and started northward. We had 
 all been very happy and contented during our ten 
 days 7 sojourn in this delightful place ; but when at 
 last our departure was determined upon, the Paying 
 Teller became possessed with a wild desire to go, 
 go, go. There was some reason, never explained nor 
 fully expressed, why no day, hour, minute, or second 
 should be lost in speeding to the far Northwest. 
 The boatman, too, impelled by what impulse I know 
 not, seemed equally anxious to get home. As for the 
 Paying Teller s " group," it always did exactly as he 
 wished. Therefore, although Euphemia and I would 
 have been glad to linger here and there upon our 
 
22 EUPHEMIA AMONG THE PELICANS. 
 
 homeward way, we could not gainsay the desire of 
 the majority of the party, and consequently we sailed 
 northward as fast as wind and sometimes oars would 
 take us. 
 
 Only one cause for delay seemed tolerable to the 
 Paying Teller. This was to stop at every post-office. 
 We had received but one mail while in camp, which, 
 had been brought in a sail-boat from an office twenty 
 miles away. But the Paying Teller had given and 
 written the most intricate and complex directions for 
 the retention or forwarding of his mail to every post 
 master in the country we had passed through, and 
 these directions, as we afterward found, had so puz 
 zled and unsettled the minds of these postmasters that 
 for several weeks his letters had been moving like 
 shuttlecocks up and down the St. John s and Indian 
 rivers never stopping anywhere, never being deliv 
 ered, but crossing and recrossing each other as if they 
 were imbued with their owner s desire to go, go, go. 
 Some of the post-offices where we stopped were lonely 
 little buildings with no other habitation near. These 
 we usually found shut up, being opened only on mail- 
 days, and in such cases nothing could be done but to 
 slip a protesting postal into the little slit in the wall 
 apparently intended for letters. Whether these pos 
 tals were eaten by rats or read by the P.M. s, we 
 never discovered. Wherever an office was found open, 
 we left behind us an irate postmaster breathing all 
 sorts of contemplated vengeance upon the disturbers 
 of his peace. We heard of letters that had been sent 
 north and sent south, t>ut there never were any at the 
 
EUPHEMIA AMONG THE PELICANS. 23 
 
 particular place where we happened to be, and I sup 
 pose that the accumulated mail of the Paying Teller 
 may for several years drop gradually upon him through 
 the meshes of the Dead-Letter Office. 
 
 There were a great many points of interest which 
 we had passed on our downward trip, the boatman 
 assuring us that, with the wind we had, and which 
 might cease at any moment, the great object was to 
 reach Jupiter as soon as possible, and that we would 
 stop at the interesting places on the way up. But 
 now the wind, according to his reasoning, made it 
 necessary that we should again push forward as fast 
 as we could; and, as I said before, the irresistible 
 attraction of the Northwest so worked upon the Pay 
 ing Teller that he was willing to pause nowhere, dur 
 ing the daytime, but at a post-office. At one place, 
 however, I was determined to land. This was Pelican 
 Island. The boatman, paying no attention to his 
 promise to stop here and give me an opportunity to 
 shoot one of these birds, declared, when near the 
 place, that it would never 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, 
 while the teacher had a great desire to investigate the 
 subject of ornithology, especially when exemplified 
 by such a subject as a pelican, she felt herself obliged 
 to be loyal to her "group," and so quietly gave her 
 voice to go on. But I, supported by Euphemia, re 
 mained so firm that we anchored a short distance from 
 Pelican Island. 
 
 None of the others had any desire to go ashore, and 
 
L 4 EUPHEMIA AMONG THE PELICANS. 
 
 so I, with the gun and Euphemia, took the boat and 
 rowed to the island. While we were here the others 
 determined to sail to the opposite side of the river to 
 look for a little post-office, the existence of which the 
 boatman had not mentioned until it had been deter 
 mined to make this stoppage here. 
 
 As we approached the island we saw hundreds of 
 pelicans, some flying about, some sitting on trunks 
 and branches of dead trees, and some waddling about 
 on the shore. 
 
 " You might as well shoot two of them," said Eu 
 phemia, "and then we will select the better one to 
 take to Rudder Grange." 
 
 The island was very boggy and muddy, and, before 
 I had found a good place to land, and had taken up 
 the gun from the bow of the boat, every pelican in 
 sight took wing and flew away. I stood up and fired 
 both barrels at the retreating flock. They swerved 
 and flew oceanward, but not one of them fell. I 
 helped Euphemia on shore, and then, gun in hand, 
 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 their minds to fly. "fhe 
 ground was very muddy, and drift-wood and under 
 brush obstructed my way. Still, I pressed on, and 
 went nearly half around the island, finding, however, 
 not a single pelican. 
 
 Soon I heard Euphemia s voice, calling loud. She 
 seemed to be about the centre of the island, and I ran 
 toward her. 
 
 " I ve got one ! " I heard her cry, before I came in 
 
EUPHEMIA AMONG THE PELICANS. 25 
 
 sight of her. She was sitting at the root of a crooked, 
 dead tree. In front of her she held, one hand grasp 
 ing each leg, what seemed to me to be an ungainly 
 and wingless goose. All about her the ground was soft 
 and boggy. Her clothes were muddy, her face was 
 red, and the creature she held was struggling violently. 
 
 " What on earth have you got ? " I exclaimed, ap 
 proaching as near as I could, " 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 that dead 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 the ground 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 this tree. 
 Then I came out quietly and caught it. But how am 
 I going to get it to you ? " 
 
 This seemed, indeed, a problem. Euphemia de 
 clared that she needed both hands to work her way 
 back by the means of the long, horizontal limb which 
 had assisted her passage to the place where" she sat, 
 and she also needed both hands to hold her prize. It 
 was likewise plain that I could not get to her. In 
 deed, I could not see how her light steps had taken 
 her over the soft and marshy ground that lay between 
 us. I suggested that she should throw the pelican to 
 me. This she declined to do. 
 
26 EUPHEMIA AMONG THE PELICANS. 
 
 " I could never throw it so far/ she said, " and it 
 would surely get away. I don t want to lose this 
 pelican, for I believe it is the last one on the island. 
 If there are other young ones, they have scuttled off 
 by this time, and I should dreadfully hate to go back 
 to the yacht without 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 curious a bird as I ever saw. Its wings 
 won t stretch out seven feet, to be sure." 
 
 "About seven inches," I suggested. 
 
 "But it is a great deal easier to carry a young one 
 like this," she persisted, " and I expect a baby pelican 
 is a much more uncommon sight in the North than a 
 grown one." 
 
 "No doubt of it," I said. "We must keep him now 
 you ve got him. Can t you kill him ? " 
 
 "I ve no way of killing him," returned Eupheinia. 
 " I wonder if you could shoot him if I were to hold 
 him out." 
 
 This, with a shot-gun, I positively declined to do. 
 Even if I had had a rifle, I suggested that she might 
 swerve. For a few moments we remained nonplussed. 
 I could not get to Euphemia at all, and she could not 
 get to me unless she released her bird, and this she 
 was determined not to do. 
 
 "Euphemia," I said, presently, "the ground seems 
 hard a little way in front 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 to 
 swing the bird to me, and I ll catch hold of him." 
 
EUPHEM1A AMONG THE PELICANS. 27 
 
 Euphemia arose and did as I told her, and we soon 
 found ourselves about six feet apart. She took the 
 bird by one leg and swung it toward me. With out 
 stretched arm I caught it by the other foot, but as I 
 did so I noticed that Euphemia was growing shorter, 
 and also felt myself sinking in the bog. Instantly I 
 entreated Euphemia to stand perfectly still, for, if we 
 struggled or moved, there was no knowing into what 
 more dreadful depths we might get. Euphemia obeyed 
 me, and stood quite still, but I could feel that she 
 clutched the pelican with desperate vigor. 
 
 "How much farther down do you think we shall 
 sink ? " she asked, her voice 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 be able to get 
 up again." 
 
 " How glad I am," she said, "that we are not 
 entirely separated, even if it is only a baby pelican 
 that joins us !" 
 
 " Indeed, I am glad ! " I said, giving the warm press 
 ure to the pelican s leg that I would have given to 
 Euphemia s hand, if I could have reached her. Eu 
 phemia looked up at me so confidently that I could 
 but believe that in some magnetic way that pressure 
 had been transmitted through the 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. 
 
28 EUPHEMIA AMONG THE PELICANS. 
 
 "I shouldn t wonder," I replied. "But it makes 
 very little difference to me whether they are or not. 7 
 
 "It ought to make a difference to you," said Eu- 
 phemia. " They might injure us very much." 
 
 "If they tried anything of the kind," I replied, 
 " they d find it worse for them than for us." 
 
 " That is boasting," said Euphemia, a little re 
 proachfully, "and it does 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 do it. 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 never think that pelicans could 
 bring a plank." 
 
 I looked at her in astonishment. 
 
 " Pelicans ! " I exclaimed. " Did you think I meant 
 the pelicans were coming 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 of the people in the yacht." 
 
EUPHEMIA AMONG THE PELICANS. 29 
 
 Euphemia looked at me, and then the little pelican 
 between us began to shake violently as we laughed. 
 
 " I know people sometimes do lose their minds when 
 they get into great danger," 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 they laughed. They brought a 
 plank, and with a good deal of trouble they drew us 
 out, but Euphemia would not let go of her leg of the 
 little pelican until she was sure I had a tight hold of 
 mine. 
 
 Day after day we now sailed northward, until we 
 reached the little town at which we had embarked. 
 Here we discarded our blue flannels and three half- 
 grown beards, and slowly made our way through 
 woods and lakes and tortuous streams to the upper 
 waters of the St. John s. In this region the popula 
 tion of the river shores seemed to consist entirely of 
 alligators, in which monsters Euphemia was greatly 
 interested. But she seldom got a near view of one, 
 for the sportsmen on our little steamer blazed away at 
 every alligator as soon as it came into distant sight ; 
 and, although the ugly creatures were seldom hit, they 
 made haste to tumble into the water or disappear 
 among the tall reeds. Euphemia was very 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." 
 
30 EUPHEMIA AMONG THE PELICANS. 
 
 The captain, a big, good-natured man, listened to 
 her, and entirely sympathized 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, and rang the bell to lessen speed. 
 
 " Gentlemen," said the captain, walking forward to 
 the group of sportsmen, "there s a big gator ahead 
 there, but don t none of you fire at him. He s copy 
 righted." 
 
 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 seeing an enormous 
 alligator lying on the bank, within a dozen yards of 
 the boat. The great creature raised its head, and 
 looked at us in apparent amazement at not being shot 
 at. Then, probably considering that we did not know 
 the customs of the river, or were out of ammunition, 
 he slowly slipped away among the reeds with an air 
 as if, like Mr. Turveydrop, he had done his duty in 
 showing himself, and if we did not take advantage of 
 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 get him, I had to hold him by one leg 
 while you held him by another, I should prefer a baby 
 pelican." 
 
 Our trip down the St. John s met with no obstacles 
 except those occasioned by the Paying Teller s return 
 
EUPHEMIA AMONG THE PELICANS. 31 
 
 tickets. He had provided himself and his group with 
 all sorts of return tickets from the various points he 
 had expected to visit in Florida. These were good 
 only on particular steamboats, and could be used only 
 to go from one particular point to another. Fortu 
 nately he had lost several of them, but there were 
 enough left to give us a good deal of trouble. We 
 did not wish to break up the party, and consequently 
 we embarked and disembarked whenever the Paying 
 Teller s group did so ; and thus, in time, we all reached 
 that widespread and sandy city which serves for the 
 gate of Florida. 
 
 From here, the Paying Teller and his group, with 
 complicated tickets, the determinate scope and pur 
 pose of which no one man living could be expected to 
 understand, hurried wildly toward the far Northwest ; 
 while we, in slower fashion, returned to Rudder 
 Grange. 
 
 There, in a place of honor over the dining-room 
 door, stands the baby pelican, 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 I " 
 
THE RUDDER GRANGERS IN ENGLAND. 
 
 IT was mainly due to Pomona that we went to 
 Europe at all. For years Euphemia and I had 
 been anxious to visit the enchanted lands on the 
 other side of the Atlantic, but the obstacles had 
 always been very great, and the matter had been in 
 definitely postponed. Pomona and Jonas were still 
 living with us, and their little girl was about two 
 years old. Pomona continued to read a great deal, 
 but her husband s influence had diverted her mind 
 toward works of history and travel, and these she 
 devoured with eager interest. But she had not given 
 up her old fancy for romance. Nearly everything 
 she read was mingled in her mind with Middle Age 
 legends and tales of strange adventure. Euphemia s 
 frequent reference to a trip to Europe had fired Po 
 mona s mind, and she was now more wildly anxious 
 for the journey than any of us. She believed that it 
 would entirely free Jonas from the chills and fever 
 that still seemed to permeate his being. And besides 
 this, what unutterable joy to tread the sounding pave 
 ments of those old castles of which she had so often 
 read! Pomona further perceived that my mental and 
 32 
 
THE RUDDER GRANGERS IN ENGLAND. 33 
 
 physical systems required the rest and change of 
 scene which could be given only by a trip to Europe. 
 When this impression had been produced upon Eu- 
 phemia s mind, the matter, to all intents and pur 
 poses, was settled. A tenant, who I suspect was 
 discovered and urged forward by the indefatigable 
 Pomona, made an application for a year s lease of our 
 house and farm. In a business view I found I could 
 make the journey profitable, and there seemed to be 
 no reason why we should not go, and go now. 
 
 It appeared to be accepted as, a foregone conclusion 
 by Euphemia and Pomona that the latter, with her 
 husband and child, should accompany us ; but of this 
 I could not, at first, see the propriety. 
 
 " We shall not want servants on a trip like that," I 
 said ; " and although I like Jonas and Pomona very 
 much, they are not exactly the people I should 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, and she will 
 follow us at a distance if we don t let her go with us. 
 She was quite content not to go with us to Florida, 
 but she is just one tingle from head to foot to go to 
 Europe. We have talked the whole thing over, and I 
 know that she will be of the greatest possible use and 
 comfort to me in ever so many ways ; and Jonas will 
 be needed to take care of the baby. Jonas has 
 money, and they will pay a great part of their own 
 expenses, and will not cost us much, and you needn t 
 be afraid that Pomona will make us ashamed of our- 
 
34 THE RUDDER GRANGERS IN ENGLAND. 
 
 selves, if we happen to be 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 in 
 veigled into a confab with those dignitaries, I hope 
 Pomona will come to the front and take my place." 
 
 The only person not entirely satisfied with the pro 
 posed journey was Jonas. 
 
 " I don t like trapsin round/ said he, " from place 
 to place, and never did. 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 like keep- 
 in on the steady go." 
 
 This plan was duly considered, and the suitability 
 of certain points was discussed. London was not 
 believed sufficiently accessible for frequent return 
 trips ; Paris could scarcely be called very central ; 
 Naples would not be suitable at all times of the year, 
 and Cairo was a little too far eastward. A number of 
 minor places were suggested, but Jonas announced 
 that he had thought of a capital location, and being 
 eagerly asked to name it, he mentioned Newark, New 
 Jersey. 
 
 " I d feel at home there," he said, " and it s about 
 as central as any place, 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 took him with us to Europe. 
 
 We did not, like the rest of the passengers on the 
 steamer, go directly from Liverpool to London, but 
 stopped for a couple of days in the quaint old town of 
 
THE RUDDER GRANGERS IN ENGLAND. 35 
 
 Chester. " If we don t see it now," said Euphemia, 
 " we never shall see it. When we once start back we 
 shall be raving distracted to get home, and I wouldn t 
 miss Chester for anything." 
 
 " There is an old wall there/ said the enthusiastic 
 Pomona to her husband, " built by Julius Caesar before 
 the Eomans became Catholics, that you kin walk on 
 all round the town ; an a tower on it which the king of 
 England stood on to see his army defeated, though of 
 course it wasn t put up for that purpose; besides, 
 more old-timenesses which the book tells of than w.e 
 can see in a week." 
 
 "I hope," said Jonas, wearily shifting the child 
 from one arm to the other, "that there ll be some 
 good place there to sit down." 
 
 When we reached Chester, we went directly to the 
 inn called "The Gentle Boar," which was selected by 
 Euphemia entirely on account of its name, and we 
 found it truly a quaint and cosey little house. Every 
 thing was early English and delightful. The coffee- 
 rooms, the bar-maids, the funny little apartments, the 
 old furniture, and " a general air of the Elizabethan 
 era," as Euphemia remarked. 
 
 "I should almost call it Henryan," said Pomona, 
 gazing about her in rapt wonderment. 
 
 We soon set out on our expeditions of sight-seeing, 
 but we did not keep together. Euphemia and I made 
 our way to the old cathedral. The ancient verger 
 who took us about the edifice was obliged to show us 
 everything, Euphemia being especially anxious to see 
 the stall in the choir which had belonged to Charles 
 
36 THE RUDDER GRANGERS IN ENGLAND. 
 
 Kingsley, and was much disturbed to find that under 
 the seat the monks of the fifteenth century had carved 
 the subject of one of Baron Munchausen s most im 
 probable tales. 
 
 "Of course/ 7 said she, "they did not know that 
 Charles Kingsley was to have 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 and their wives, 
 which they could do, you see, without urting each 
 other s feelings. These queer carvings are hunder 
 the seats, which turn hup in this way, and Fve no 
 doubt they looked at them most of the time they 
 were kneeling on the cold floor saying their long, Latin 
 prayers." 
 
 " Yes, indeed ! " said Euphemia. " It must have 
 been a great comfort to the poor fellows." 
 
 "We went all through that cathedral," exclaimed 
 Pomona, when she came in 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, " I don 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 and pointed 
 out all the beautiful carvin s and things on the choir, 
 the transits, and the nave, but when Jonas stopped 
 before the carved figger of the devil chawin up a 
 sinner, and asked if that was the transit of a knave, 
 the old feller didn t know what he meant. An 7 then 
 
THE RUDDER GRANGERS IN ENGLAND. 37 
 
 we wandered alone through them ruined cloisters and 
 subterraneal halls, an old tombstones of the past, till 
 I felt I don t know how. There was a girl in New 
 Jersey who used to put on airs because her family had 
 lived in one place for a hundred years. When I git 
 back I ll laugh that girl to scorn." 
 
 After two days of delight in this quaint old town 
 we took the train Londonward. Without consultation 
 Jonas bought tickets for himself and wife, while I 
 bought Euphemia s and mine. Consequently our ser 
 vants travelled first-class, while we went in a second- 
 class carriage. We were all greatly charmed with 
 the beautiful garden country through which we passed. 
 It was harvest time, and Jonas was much impressed 
 by the large crops gathered from the little fields. 
 
 "I might try to do something of that kind when I 
 go back," he afterward said, " but I expect I d have to 
 dig a little hole for each grain of wheat, and hoe it, . 
 and water it, and tie the blade to a stick -if it was 
 weakly." 
 
 "An a nice easy time you d have of it," said 
 Pomona; "for you might plant your wheat field round 
 a stump, and set there, and farm all summer, without 
 once gettin up." 
 
 "And that is Windsor!" exclaimed Euphemia, as 
 we passed within view of that royal castle. "And 
 there lives the Sovereign of our Mother Country ! " 
 
 I was trying to puzzle out in what relationship to the 
 Sovereign this placed us, when Euphemia continued : 
 
 " I am bound to go to Windsor Castle ! I have ex 
 amined into every style of housekeeping, French flats 
 
38 THE RUDDER GRANGERS IN ENGLAND. 
 
 and everything, and I must see how the Queen lives. 
 I expect to get ever so many ideas." 
 
 " All right," said I ; " and we will visit the royal 
 stables, too, for I intend 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 because it was the 
 way in which many of Euphemia s favorite heroes and 
 heroines had lived in London. 
 
 " I want to keep house," she said, " in the same way 
 that Charles and Mary Lamb did. We will toast a 
 bit of muffin or a potted sprat, and we ll have a ham 
 per of cheese and a tankard of ale, just like those old 
 English poets and writers." 
 
 "I think you are wrong about the hamper of 
 cheese," I said. " It couldn t have been as much as 
 that, but I have no doubt we ll have a jolly time." 
 
 We goir into a four-wheeled cab, Jonas on the seat 
 with the driver, and the luggage on top. I gave the 
 man a card with the address of the house to which we 
 had been recommended. There was a number, the 
 name of a street, the name of a place, the name of a 
 square, and initials denoting the quarter of the town. 
 
 " It will confuse the poor man dreadfully," said 
 Eupheinia. " It would have been a great deal better 
 just to have said where the house was." 
 
 The man, however, drove to the given address with 
 out mistake. The house was small, but as there were 
 no other lodgers, there was room enough for us. 
 Euphemia was much pleased with the establishment. 
 
THE RUDDER GRANGERS IN ENGLAND. 39 
 
 The house was very well furnished, and she had ex 
 pected to find things old and stuffy, as London lodg 
 ings always were in the books she had read. 
 
 "But if the landlady will only steal our tea/ she 
 said, "it will make it seem more like the real thing." 
 
 As we intended to stay some time in London, where 
 I had business to transact for the firm with which I 
 was engaged, we immediately began to make ourselves 
 as much at home as possible. Pomona, assisted by 
 Jonas, undertook at once the work of the house. To 
 this the landlady, who kept a small servant, somewhat 
 objected, as it had been her custom to attend to 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, that would be differ 
 ent, but as there s only our own family, where s the 
 good of that woman and her girl doin anything ? " 
 
 And so, as a sort of excuse for her being in Europe, 
 she began to get the table ready for supper, and sent 
 Jonas out to see if there was any place where he could 
 buy provisions. Euphemia and I were not at all cer 
 tain that the good woman of the house would be satis 
 fied with this state of things ; but still, as Jonas and 
 Pomona were really our servants, it seemed quite 
 proper that they should do our work. And so we did 
 not interfere, although Euphemia found it quite sad, 
 she said, to see the landlady standing idly about, gaz 
 ing solemnly upon Pomona as she dashed from place 
 to place engaged with her household duties. 
 
 After we had been in the house for two or three 
 
40 THE RUDDER GRANGERS IN ENGLAND. 
 
 days, Pomona came into our sitting-room one evening 
 and made a short speech. 
 
 "I ve settled matters with the woman here/ she 
 said, " an I think you ll like the way I ve done it. I 
 couldn t stand her follerin me about, an sayin ow 
 they did things in Hingland, while her red-faced girl 
 was a-spendin the days on the airy steps, a-lookin 
 through the railin s. Now, Mrs. Bowlin , says I, 
 it ll just be the ruin of you an the death of me if 
 you keep on makin a picter of yourself like that 
 lonely Indian a-sittin on a pinnacle in the jographys, 
 watchin the inroads of civilization, with a locomotive 
 an a cog-wheel in front, an the buffalo an the grisly 
 a-disappearin in the distance. Now it ll be much bet 
 ter for all of us, saj^s I, if you ll git down from your 
 peak, and try to make up your mind that the world 
 has got to move. Aint there soire place where you 
 kin go an be quiet an comfortable, an not a-woundin 
 your proud spirit a-watchin me bake hot rolls for 
 breakfast an sich ? An then she says she d begun 
 to think 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 there an stay while we was here. An so I 
 says that was just the thing, and the sooner done the 
 happier she d be. An I went up stairs and helped 
 her pack her trunk, which is a tin one, which she 
 calls her box, an I got her a cab, an she s gone." 
 
 " What ! " I cried ; " gone ! Has she given up her 
 house entirely to us ? " 
 
THE RUDDER GRANGERS IN ENGLAND. 41 
 
 " For the time bein she has," answered Pomona, 
 " for she saw very well it 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 
 been sent back to the country." 
 
 It was impossible for Euphemia and myself to 
 countenance this outrageous piece of eviction ; but in 
 answer to our exclamations of surprise and reproach, 
 Pomona merely remarked that she had done it for the 
 woman s own good, and, as she was perfectly satisfied, 
 she didn t suppose there was any harm done ; and, at 
 any rate, it would be " lots nicer " for us. And then 
 she asked Euphemia what she was going to have for 
 breakfast the next morning, so that Jonas could go 
 out to the different mongers and get the things. 
 
 "Now," said Euphemia, when Pomona had gone 
 down stairs, " I really feel as if I had a foothold on 
 British soil. It doesn t seem as if 7 t was quite right, 
 but it is perfectly splendid." 
 
 And so it was. From that moment we set up an 
 English Rudder Grange in the establishment which 
 Pomona had thus rudely wrenched, as it were, from 
 the claws of the British Lion. We endeavored to 
 live as far as possible in the English style, because 
 we wanted to try the manners and customs of every 
 country. We had tea for breakfast and ale for 
 luncheon, and we ate shrimps, prawns, sprats, save 
 loys, and Yarmouth bloaters. We " took in the Times," 
 and, to a certain extent, we endeavored to cultivate 
 the broad vowels. Some of these things we did not 
 like, but we felt bound to allow them a fair trial. 
 
42 THE RUDDER GRANGERS IN ENGLAND. 
 
 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. In the mornings 
 I attended to my business, and in the afternoons 
 Euphemia and I generally went out to visit some of 
 the lions of the grand old city. 
 
 Pomona and Jonas also went out whenever a time 
 could be conveniently arranged, which was done nearly 
 every day, for Euphemia was anxious they should see 
 everything. They almost always took their child, and 
 to this Euphemia frequently objected. 
 
 "What s the good," she said, "of carrying a baby 
 not two years old to the Tower of London, the British 
 Museum, and the Chapel of Henry VII. ? She can t 
 take any interest in the smothered princes, or the As 
 syrian remnants. If I am at home, I can look after 
 her as well as not." 
 
 " But you see, ma am," said Pomona, " we don t ex 
 pect the baby ll ever come over here ag in, an 7 when 
 she gits older, I ll tell her all about these things, an 
 it ll expan her intelleck a lot more when she feels 
 she s seed em all without knowin it. To be sure, the 
 monnyments of bygone days don t always agree with 
 her ; for Jone set her down on the tomb of Chaucer 
 the other day, an her little legs got as cold as the 
 tomb itself, an I told him that there was too big a 
 difference between a tomb nigh four hundred years 
 old an a small baby which don t date back two years, 
 for them to be sot together that way ; an he promised 
 to be more careful after that. He gouged a little 
 piece out of Chaucer s tomb, an as we went home we 
 
THE RUDDER GRANGERS IN ENGLAND. 43 
 
 bought a copy of the old gentleman 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. You wouldn t a thought, says Jone, jus 
 by lookin at that little piece of plaster, that the old 
 fellow could a got up such stories as them. " 
 
 "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 allers loved to read 
 about em in books, and I d rather see one close to, 
 than all the tombs and crypts and lofty domes you 
 could rake together; an I don t want to see em 
 neither in the streets, nor yet in a House of Parlia 
 ment, 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 pene 
 trate into the home of one of em, and see him as he 
 really is. It s only there that his noble blood ll come 
 out." 
 
 "Pomona," cried Euphemia, in accents of alarm, 
 " don t you try penetrating into any nobleman s home. 
 You will get yourself into trouble, 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 household duties. 
 
 A few days after this, as Euphemia and I were go 
 ing to the Tower of London in a Hansom cab and 
 it was one of Euphemia s greatest delights to be 
 bowled over the smooth London pavements in one of 
 these vehicles, with the driver out of sight, and the 
 
44 THE RUDDER GRANGERS IN ENGLAND. 
 
 horse in front of us just as if we were driving our 
 selves, only without any of the trouble, and on every 
 corner one of the names of the streets we had read 
 about in Dickens and Thackeray, and with the Samp 
 son Brasses, and the Pecksniffs, and the Mrs. Gamps, 
 and the Guppys, and the Sir Leicester Dedlocks, and 
 the Becky Sharps, and the Pendennises, all walking 
 about just as natural as in the novels we were sur 
 prised to see Pomona hurrying along the sidewalk 
 alone. The moment our eyes fell upon her a feeling 
 of alarm arose within us. Where was she going with 
 such an intent purpose in her face, and without Jonas ? 
 She was walking westward, and we were going to the 
 east. At Eupheinia s request I stopped the cab, 
 jumped out, and ran after her, but she had disap 
 peared in the crowd. 
 
 " She is up to mischief," said Euphemia. 
 
 But it was of no use to worry our minds on the 
 subject, and we soon forgot, in the ancient wonders 
 of the Tower, the probable eccentricities of our mod 
 ern handmaid. 
 
 We returned; night came on; but Pomona was 
 still absent. Jonas did not know where she was, and 
 was very much troubled; and the baby, which had 
 been so skilfully kept in the background by its 
 mother that, so far, it had never annoyed us at all, 
 now began to cry, and would not be comforted. Eu 
 phemia, with the assistance of Jonas, prepared the 
 evening meal, and when we had nearly eaten it, Po 
 mona came home. Euphemia asked no questions, 
 although she was burning with curiosity to know 
 
THE RUDDER GRANGERS IN ENGLAND. 45 
 
 where Pomona had been, considering that it was that 
 young woman s duty to inform her without being 
 asked. 
 
 When Pomona came in to wait on us, she acted as 
 if she expected to be questioned, and was perfectly 
 willing to answer, but Euphemia stood upon her dig 
 nity, and said nothing. At last Pomona could endure 
 it no longer, and standing with a tray in her hand, she 
 exclaimed : 
 
 " Tin. 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 was kep late." 
 
 " What ! " cried Euphemia, springing to her feet ; 
 " you don t mean that ! " 
 
 And I was so amazed that I sat and looked at Po 
 mona without saying a word. 
 
 "Yes," cried Pomona, her eyes sparkling with ex 
 citement, "I ve seen a lord, and trod his floors, and 
 I ll tell you all about it. You know I was bouii to 
 do it, and I wanted to go alone, for if Jone was with 
 me he d be sure to put in some of his queer sayin s 
 an ten to one hurt the man s feelin s, and cut off the 
 interview. An as Jone said this afternoon he felt 
 tired, with some small creeps in his back, an didn t 
 care 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 he could 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 ques 
 tions which he thought was funny, but I kep stiff to 
 the mark, an I made him tell me where a lord did live, 
 
46 THE RUDDER GRANGERS IN ENGLAND. 
 
 about five blocks from here. So I fixed things all 
 ready an to-day I went there." 
 
 " You didn t have the assurance to suppose he d see 
 you ? " cried Euphemia. 
 
 "No, indeed, I hadn t/ said Pomona, "at least 
 under common circumstances. You may be sure I 
 racked my brains enough to know what I should do to 
 meet him face to face. It wouldn t do to go in the 
 common way, such as ringin at the front door and 
 askin for him, an then offerin to sell him furniter- 
 polish for his pianner-legs. I knowed well enough 
 that any errand like that would only bring me face to 
 face with his bailiff, or his master of hounds, or some 
 thing of that kind. So, at last, I got a plan of my 
 own, an I goes up the steps and rings the bell, an 
 when the flunkey, with more of an air of gen ral up- 
 liftedness about him than any one I d seen yet, excep 
 Nelson on top of his pillar, opened the door an looked 
 at me, I asked him, 
 
 "as Earl Cobdenin? 
 
 " 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 a letter ? " 
 
 " Yes, I did," continued Pomona, " and at first the 
 man didn t seem inclined 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 t make out, 
 
THE RUDDER GRANGERS IN ENGLAND. 47 
 
 and carried it up the widest and splendidest pair o 
 stairs that I ever see in a house jus intended to be 
 lived in. When he got to the fust landin he met a 
 gentleman, and give him the letter. When I saw 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 front door. 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 back up stairs a-follered 
 by the flunk, which last pretty soon came down ag in 
 an told me I was to go up. I don t think I ever felt 
 so much like a wringed-out dish-cloth as I did when I 
 went up them palatial stairs. 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 ; who 
 knows? An I might a been switched off on some 
 female line, an so lost the name an estates. At any 
 rate, be brave ! With such thoughts as these I tried 
 to stiffen my legs, figgeratively speakin . We went 
 through two or three rooms (I hadn t time to count 
 em) an then I was showed into the lofty presence of 
 the earl. He was standin by the fire-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 same breath. 
 
 " I knowed him by his wax figger," continued Po 
 mona, "which Jone and I see at Madame Tussaud s 
 wax-works. They ve got all the head people of these 
 days there now, as well as the old kings and the pizen- 
 
48 THE RUDDER GRANGERS IN ENGLAND. 
 
 ers. The clothes wasn t exactly the same, though 
 very good on each, an ? there was more of an air of 
 shortenin of the spine in the wax rigger than in the 
 other one. But the likeness was awful strikin . 
 
 " i 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 t go 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 Dor 
 setshire an Derry. Dear Sir. Bein brought up under 
 Republican institutions, in the land of the free I left 
 out the home of the brave because there wasn t no 
 use crowin about that jus then i I haven t had no 
 opportunity of meetin with a individual of lordly blood. 
 Ever since I was a small girl takin books from the cir- 
 culatin libery, an obliged to read out loud with divided 
 sillerbles, I ve drank in every word of the tales of lords 
 and other nobles of high degree, that the little shops where 
 I generally got my books, an 9 some with the pages out at 
 the most excitin parts, contained. An 9 so I asks you 
 now, Sir Lord I did put humbly, but I scratched 
 that out, bein an American woman to do me the 
 favor of a short audience. Then, when I reads about 
 noble earls an dukes in their brilliant lit halls an castles, 
 or mounted on their champin chargers, a-leadin their 
 trusty hordes to victory amid the glittering minarets of 
 fame, I ll know what they looks like. 9 An then I signed 
 my name. 
 
THE RUDDER GRANGERS IN ENGLAND. 49 
 
 " Yes, sir/ says I, in answer to his earlship s ques 
 tion," said Pomona, 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 my foot on one ancestral stone, 
 that I d be square and honest through the whole busi 
 ness, 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 of clothes that I ve ever seed yit, not bein 
 exactly Sunday clothes, and yit fit for company, an* 
 if money can buy em an men s clothes is cheap 
 enough here, dear only knows I m goin to have a 
 suit jus like it for Jone, my husband. It was a kind 
 o brown mixed stuff, with a little spot of red in it 
 here an there, an was about as gay for plain goods, 
 an as plain for gay goods, as anythin could be, an 
 twas easy enough to see that it was all wool. Of 
 course/ says I, Jone ll have his coat made different in 
 front, for single-breasted, an a buttonin so high up is 
 a most too stylish for him, specially as fashions ud 
 change afore the coat was wore out. But I needn t 
 bother your earlship about that. 
 
 " An so/ says he, an I imagine I see an air of sad 
 ness steal over his 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 
 
50 THE RUDDER GRANGERS IN ENGLAND. 
 
 " Well, we won t go into that/ said his earlship, 
 an I want to ask you a question. I suppose you 
 represent the middle class in your country ? 
 
 " I don t know zactly where society splits with us/ 
 says I, but I guess I m somewhere nigh the crack. 
 
 " Now don t you really believe/ says he, that you 
 and the people of your class would be happier, an 
 feel safer, politically speakin , if they had among em 
 a aristocracy to which they could look up to in times 
 of trouble, as their nat ral born gardeens ? I ask yer 
 this because I want to know for myself what are the 
 reel sentiments of yer people. 
 
 " Well, sir/ says I, when your work is done, an 
 your kitchen cleaned up, 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 is in the 
 ten-cent books ; but, further than this, I must say, we 
 aint got no use for em. At that he kind o steps 
 back, and looks as if he was goin to say somethin , 
 but I puts in quick: But you mustn t think, my 
 earl/ says I, that we undervallers you. When we 
 remembers the field of Agincourt ; and Chevy Chase ; 
 an the Tower of London, with the block on which 
 three lords was beheaded, with the very cuts in it 
 which the headsman made when he chopped em ofl^ 
 as well as two crooked ones a-showin his bad licks, 
 which little did he think history would preserve for 
 ever ; an the old Guildhall, where down in the ancient 
 crypt is a-hangin our Declaration of Independence 
 along with the Eoman pots and kittles dug up in Lon 
 don streets ; we can t f orgit that if it hadn t a been for 
 
THE RUDDER GRANGERS IN ENGLAND. 51 
 
 your old ancestral lines as roots, we d never been the 
 flourishin tree we is. 
 
 " Well/ said his earlship, when I d got through, 
 an he kind o looked as if he didn t know whether to 
 laugh or not, if you represent the feelin s of your 
 class in your country, I reckon they re not just ready 
 for a aristocracy yit. 
 
 " An with that he give nie a little nod, an? walked 
 off into another room. It was pretty plain from this 
 that the interview was brought to a close, 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 no chance to take a good look at the fur- 
 niter and carpets, which I d a liked to have done. 
 An so I ve talked to a real earl, an if not in his an 
 cestral 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 see kings, queens, dukes, counts, 
 sheikhs, beys, sultans, khedives, pashas, rajahs, and I 
 don t know what potentates besides, and I wish to say 
 just this one thing to you. If you don t want to get 
 yourself and us into some dreadful scrape, and perhaps 
 bring our journeys to a sudden close, you must put a 
 curb on your longing for communing with beings of 
 noble blood." 
 
 " That s true, sir," said Pomona, thoughtfully, " an 
 I made a pretty close shave of it this time, for when 
 I was talkin to the earl, I was just on the p int of 
 
52 THE RUDDER GRANGERS IN ENGLAND. 
 
 tellin him that I had such a high opinion of his kind 
 o folks that I once named a big black dog after one 
 of em, but I jus remembered in time, an slipped on 
 to somethin else. But I trembled worse than a pea 
 nut woman with a hackman goin round the corner to 
 ketch a train an his hubs just grazin the legs of her 
 stand. An so I promise you, sir, that I ll put my 
 heel on all hankerin after potentates." 
 
 And so she made her promise. And, knowing Po 
 mona, I felt sure that she would keep it if she 
 could. 
 
POMONA S DAUGHTEB, 
 
 IN the pretty walk, bordered by bright flowers and 
 low, overhanging shrubbery, which lies back of 
 the Albert Memorial, in Kensington Gardens, London, 
 Jonas sat on a green bench, with his baby on his 
 knee. A few nurses were pushing baby-carriages 
 about in different parts of the walk, and there were 
 children playing not far away. It was drawing 
 toward the close of the afternoon, and Jonas was 
 thinking it was nearly time to go home, when Pomona 
 came running to him from the gorgeous monument, 
 which she had been carefully inspecting. 
 
 " Jone," she cried, " do you know I ve been lookin 
 at all them great men that s standin round the bottom 
 of the monnyment, an though there s over 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 that we 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 
 
 53 
 
54 POMONA S DAUGHTER. 
 
 come an see for yourself. Perhaps you kin find jus 
 one American, an then I ll go home satisfied." 
 
 " All right/ said Jonas. 
 
 And, putting the child on the bench, he told her 
 he d be back in a minute, and hurried after Pomona, 
 to give a hasty look for the desired American. 
 
 Corinne, the offspring of Jonas and Pomona, had 
 some peculiarities. One of these was that she was 
 accustomed to stay where she was put. Ever since 
 she had been old enough to be carried about, she had 
 been carried about by one parent or the other ; and, 
 as it was frequently necessary to set her down, she 
 had learned to sit and wait until she was taken up 
 again. She was now nearly two years old, very strong 
 and active, and of an intellect which had already be 
 gun to tower. She could walk very well, but Jonas 
 took such delight in carrying her that he seldom 
 appeared 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, and preferred to 
 keep her thoughts to herself, and, although she some 
 times astonished us all by imitating remarks she had 
 heard, she frequently declined to repeat the simplest 
 words that had been taught her. 
 
 Corinne remained on the bench about a minute 
 after her father had left her, and then, contrary to 
 her usual custom, she determined to leave the place 
 where she had been put. Turning over on her 
 stomach, after the manner of babies, she lowered her 
 feet to the ground. Having obtained a foothold, she 
 turned herself about and proceeded, with sturdy steps, 
 
POMONA S DAUGHTER. 55 
 
 to a baby-carriage near by which had attracted her 
 attention. This carriage, which was unattended, con 
 tained a baby, somewhat smaller and younger than 
 Corinne, who sat up and gazed with youthful 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 with admiration the 
 afghan crocheted in gay colors which was spread over 
 its lap, and the spacious gig-top which shielded it 
 from the sun. She stooped down and looked at the 
 wheels, and stood up and gazed at the blue eyes and 
 canary hair of the little occupant. Then, in quiet but 
 decided tones, Corinne said: 
 
 "Ditout!" 
 
 The other baby looked at her, but made no move 
 ment to obey. After waiting a few moments, an ex 
 pression of stern severity spreading itself the while 
 over her countenance, Corinne reached over and put 
 her arms around the fair-haired child. Then, with 
 all her weight and strength, she threw herself back 
 ward and downward. The other baby, being light, 
 was thus drawn bodily out of its carriage, and Corinne 
 sat heavily upon the ground, her new acquaintance 
 sprawling in her lap. Notwithstanding that she bore 
 the brunt of the fall upon the gravel, Corinne uttered 
 no cry; but, disengaging herself from her encum 
 brance, she rose to her feet. 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. 
 
56 POMONA S DAUGHTER. 
 
 This, however, the other baby was unable to do ; 
 but she stood quite still, evidently greatly interested 
 in the proceedings. Corinne left her and walked to 
 the little carriage, into which she proceeded to climb. 
 After some extraordinary exertions, during which her 
 fat legs were frequently thrust through the spokes of 
 the wheels and ruthlessly drawn out again, she tum 
 bled in. Arranging herself as comfortably as she 
 knew how, she drew the gay afghan over her, leaned 
 back upon the soft pillow, gazed up at the sheltering 
 gig-top, and resigned herself to luxurious bliss. At 
 this supreme moment, the nurse who had had Charge 
 of the carriage and its occupant came hurrying around 
 a corner of the path. She had been taking leave of 
 some of her nurse-maid friends, and had stayed longer 
 than she had intended. It was necessary for her to 
 take a suitable leave of these ladies, for that night 
 she was going on a journey. She had been told to 
 take the baby out for an airing, and to bring it back 
 early. Now, to her surprise, the afternoon had nearly 
 gone, and hurrying to the little carriage she seized the 
 handle at the back and rapidly pushed it home, with 
 out stopping to look beneath the overhanging gig-top, 
 or at the green bench, with which her somewhat 
 worried soul had no concern. If anything could add 
 to Corinne s ecstatic delight, it was this charming 
 motion. Closing her eyes contentedly, she dropped 
 asleep. 
 
 The baby with canary hair looked at the receding 
 nurse and carriage with widening eyes and reddening 
 cheeks. Then, opening her mouth, she uttered the 
 
POMONA S DAUGHTER. 57 
 
 cry of the deserted ; but the panic-stricken nurse did 
 not hear her, and, if she had, what were the cries of 
 other children to her ? Her only business was to get 
 home quickly with her young charge. 
 
 About five minutes after these events, Jonas and 
 Pomona came hurrying along the path. They, too, 
 had stayed away much longer than they had intended, 
 and had suddenly given up their search for the Ameri 
 can, whom they had hoped to find in high relief upon 
 the base of the Albert Memorial. Stepping quickly 
 to the child, who still stood sobbing by the bench, 
 Jonas exclaimed, " You poor itty ! " 
 
 And then he stopped suddenly. Pomona also stood 
 for a second, and then she made a dash at the child, 
 and snatched it up. Gazing sharply at its tear- 
 smeared countenance, she exclaimed, " What s this ? " 
 
 The baby did not seem able to explain what it was, 
 and only answered by a tearful sob. Jonas did not 
 say a word; but, with the lithe quickness of a dog 
 after a rat, he began to search behind and under 
 benches, in the bushes, on the grass, here, there, and 
 everywhere. 
 
 About nine o clock that evening, Pomona came to 
 us with tears in her eyes, and the canary-haired baby 
 in her arms, and told us that Corinne was lost. They 
 had searched everywhere ; they had gone to the police ; 
 telegrams had been sent to every station ; they had 
 done everything that could be done, but had found no 
 trace of the child. 
 
 "If I hadn t this/ sobbed Pomona, holding out the 
 child, "I believe I d go wild. It isn t that she can 
 
58 POMONA S DAUGHTER. 
 
 take the place of my dear baby, but by 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 in her tears. 
 
 "Jonas is scourin the town yet," said Pomona. 
 "He ll never give up till he drops. But I felt you 
 ought to know, and I couldn t keep this little thing 
 in the night-air no longer. It s a sweet child, and its 
 clothes are lovely. If it s got a mother, she s bound 
 to want to see it before long ; an if ever I ketch sight 
 of her, she don t git away from me till I have my 
 child." 
 
 " It is a very extraordinary case," I said. " Chil 
 dren are often stolen, but it is seldom we hear of one 
 being taken and another left in its place, especially 
 when the children are of different ages, and totally 
 unlike." 
 
 "That s so," said Pomona. "At first, I thought 
 that Corinne had been changed off for a princess, or 
 something like that, but nobody couldn t make any 
 body believe that my big, black-haired baby was this 
 white-an -yaller thing." 
 
 "Can t you finrl oiy mark on her clothes," asked 
 Euphemia, oy which you could discover her parent 
 age ? If there are no initials, perhaps you can find a 
 coronet or a coat of arms." 
 
 "No," said Pomona, "there aint nothin . I ve 
 looked careful. But there s great comfort to think 
 that Corinne s well stamped." 
 
 "Stamped!" we exclaimed. "What do you mean 
 by that ? " 
 
POMONA S DAUGHTER. 59 
 
 "Why, you see," answered Pomona, "when Jone 
 an 7 I was goin to bring our baby over here among so 
 many million people, we thought there might be dan 
 ger of its gittin lost or mislaid, though we never 
 really believed any such thing would happen, or we 
 wouldn t have come. An so we 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 own mothers didn t know em. Jone said we d 
 better tattoo Corinne, for them marks would always 
 be there, but I wouldn t agree to have the little creat 
 ure s skin stuck with needles, not even after Jone 
 said we might give her chloryf orm ; so we agreed to 
 stamp initials on her with Perkins s Indelible Dab. 
 It is intended to mark sheep, but it don t hurt, and it 
 don t never come off. We put the letters on the back 
 of her 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 E. G. on one heel 
 for the name of the place, and J. P. on the other heel 
 for Jonas an me. If, twenty years from now," said 
 Pomona, her tears welling out afresh, " I should see a 
 young woman with eyes like Corinne 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 in 
 the church, an the music playin , an the minister all 
 ready, I d jist jerk that young woman into the vestry- 
 room, an have off her shoes an stockin s in no time. 
 An if she had E. G. on one heel, an J. P. on the 
 other, that bridegroom could go home alone." 
 
 We confidently assured Pomona that with such 
 
60 POMONA S DAUGHTER. 
 
 means of identification, and the united action of our 
 selves and the police, the child would surely be found, 
 and we accompanied her to her lodgings, which were 
 now in a house not far from our own. 
 
 When the nurse reached home with the little car 
 riage it was almost dark, and, snatching up the child, 
 she ran to the nursery without meeting any one. 
 The child felt heavy, but she was in such a hurry she 
 scarcely noticed that. She put it upon the bed, and 
 then lighting the gas she unwrapped the afghan, in 
 which the little creature was now almost entirely en 
 veloped. 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 a stupid woman, with 
 but few ideas, but she could not fail to see that some 
 one had taken her charge, and put this child in its 
 place. Her first impulse was to run back to the gar 
 dens, but she felt certain that her baby had been 
 carried off; and, besides, she could not, without dis 
 covery, leave the child here or take it with her ; and 
 while she stood in dumb horror, her mistress sent for 
 her. The lady was just going out to dinner, and told 
 the nurse that, as they were all to start for the Conti 
 nent by the tidal train, which left at ten o clock that 
 night, she must be ready with the baby, well wrapped 
 up for the journey. The half -stupefied woman had no 
 words nor courage with which to declare, at this mo 
 ment, the true state of the case. She said nothing, 
 and went back to the nursery and sat there in dumb 
 consternation, and without sense enough to make a 
 
POMONA S DAUGHTER. 61 
 
 plan of any kind. The strange child soon awoke and 
 began to cry, and then the nurse mechanically fed it, 
 and it went to sleep again. When the summons came 
 to her to prepare for the journey, in cowardly haste 
 she wrapped the baby, so carefully covering its head 
 that she scarcely gave it a chance to breathe ; and she 
 and the lady s waiting-maid were sent in a cab to the 
 Victoria Station. The lady was travelling with a 
 party of friends, and the nurse and the waiting-maid 
 were placed in the adjoining compartment of the rail 
 way-carriage. On the six hours channel passage from 
 ISTewhaven to Dieppe the lady was extremely sick, and 
 reached France in such a condition that she had to be 
 almost carried on shore. It had been her intention to 
 stop a few days at this fashionable watering-place, 
 but she declared that she must go straight on to Paris, 
 where she could be properly attended to, and, more 
 over, that she never wanted to see the sea again. 
 When she had been placed in the train for Paris she 
 sent for the nurse, and feebly asked how the baby 
 was, and if it had been seasick. On being told that it 
 was all right, and had not shown a sign of illness, she 
 expressed her gratification, and lay back among her 
 rugs. 
 
 The nurse and the waiting-maid travelled together, 
 as before, but the latter, wearied by her night s attend 
 ance upon her mistress, slept all the way from Dieppe 
 to Paris. When they reached that city, they went 
 into the waiting-room until a carriage could be pro 
 cured for them, and there the nurse, placing the baby 
 on a seat, asked her companion to take care of it for a 
 
62 POMONA S DAUGHTER. 
 
 few minutes. She then went out of the station door, 
 and disappeared into Paris. 
 
 In this way, the brunt of the terrible disclosure, 
 which came very soon, was thrown upon the waiting- 
 maid/ No one, however, attached any blame to her : 
 of course, the absconding nurse had carried away the 
 fair-haired child. The waiting-maid had been sepa 
 rated from her during the passage from the train to 
 the station, and it was supposed that in this way an 
 exchange of babies had been easily made by her and 
 her confederates. When the mother knew of her loss, 
 her grief was so violent that for a time her life was 
 in danger. All Paris was searched by the police and 
 her friends, but no traces could be found of the wicked 
 nurse and the fair-haired child. Money, which, of 
 course, was considered the object of the inhuman 
 crime, was freely offered, but to no avail. No one 
 imagined for an instant that the exchange was made 
 before the party reached Paris. It seemed plain 
 enough that the crime was committed \y\hen the 
 woman fled. 
 
 Corinne, who had been placed in the charge of a 
 servant until it was determined what to do with her, 
 was not at all satisfied with the new state of affairs, 
 and loudly demanded her papa and mamma, behaving 
 for a time in a very turbulent way. In a few days, 
 the lady recovered her strength, and asked to see this 
 child. The initials upon Corinne s heels had been 
 discovered, and, when she was told of these, the lady 
 examined them closely. 
 
 "The people who left this child," she exclaimed, 
 
POMONA S DAUGHTER. 63 
 
 " do not intend to lose her ! They know where she 
 is, and they will keep a watch upon her, and when 
 they get a chance they will take her. I, too, will 
 keep a watch upon her, and when they come for her I 
 shall see them." 
 
 Her use of words soon showed Corinne to be of 
 English parentage, and it was 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 nurse to get away with the other child. 
 
 In accord with her resolution, the grief-stricken 
 lady put Corinne in the charge of a trusty woman, 
 and, moreover, scarcely ever allowed her to be out of 
 her sight. 
 
 It was suggested that advertisement be made for 
 the parents of a child marked 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 I want 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 to 
 keep it. When I have found my child, it will be time 
 enough to restore this one." 
 
 Thus selfish is maternal love. 
 
 Pomona bore up better under the loss than did 
 Jonas. Neither of them gave up the search for a 
 day ; but Jonas, haggard and worn, wandered aim 
 lessly about the city, visiting every place into which 
 he imagined a child might have wandered, or might 
 have been taken, searching even to the crypt in the 
 Guildhall and the Tower of London. Pomona s mind 
 
64 POMONA S DAUGHTER. 
 
 worked quite as actively as her husband s body. She 
 took great care of "Little Kensington/ as s]ie called 
 the strange child from the place where she had been 
 found; and therefore could not go about as Jonas did. 
 After days and nights of ceaseless supposition, she 
 had come to the conclusion that Corinne had been 
 stolen by opera singers. 
 
 "I suppose you never knew it," she said to us, 
 "for I took pains not to let it disturb you, but that 
 child has notes in. her voice about two stories higher 
 than any operer prymer donner that I ever heard, an 7 
 I ve heard lots of em, for I used to go into the top 
 gallery of the operer as often as into the theayter ; 
 an if any operer singer ever heard 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 little child could be of any use to 
 an opera singer ; at least, not for years and years." 
 
 " Oh, yes, ma am," replied Pomona ; " she was 
 none too little. Sopranners is like mocking-birds ; 
 they ve got to be took young." 
 
 No arguments could shake Pomona s belief in this 
 theory. And she daily lamented the fact that there 
 was no opera in London at that time that she might 
 go to the performances, and see if there was any one 
 on the stage who looked mean enough to steal a child. 
 
 " If she was there," said Pomona, " I d know it. 
 She d feel the scorn of a mother s eye on her, an her 
 guilty heart would make her forget her part." 
 
POMONA S DAUGHTER. 65 
 
 Pomona frequently went into Kensington Gardens, 
 and laid. traps for opera singers who might be sojourn 
 ing in London. She would take Little Kensington into 
 the gardens, and, placing her carefully in the corner 
 of a bench, would retire to a short distance and pre 
 tend to be absorbed in a book, while her sharp eyes 
 kept up the watch for a long-haired tenor, or a beauti 
 fully dressed soprano, who should suddenly rush out 
 from the bushes and seize the child. 
 
 " I wouldn t make no fuss if they was to come out," 
 she said. " Little Kensington 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 for you; and may the house hurl 
 stools at you the next time you appear, is the limit of v 
 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 about little, and enjoyed nothing. At last 
 Pomona came to us, her face pale but determined. 
 
 " It s no use," she said, " for us to keep you here no 
 longer, when I know you ve got through with the 
 place, and want to go on, an we ll go, too, for I don t 
 believe my child s in London. She s been took away, 
 an we might as well look for her in one place as an 
 other. The perlice tells us that if she s found here, 
 they ll know it fust, an they ll telegraph to us wher 
 ever we is ; an if it wasn t fur nuthin else, it would be 
 a mercy to git Jone out of this place. He goes about 
 
66 POMONA S DAUGHTER. 
 
 like a cat after her drowned kittens. It s a-bringin 
 out them chills of hisn, an ? the next thing it ll kill 
 him. I can t make him believe in the findin of Co- 
 rinne as firm as I do, but I know as long as Perkins s 
 Indelible 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 be found as easily in Paris as here. 
 
 "And we ve seen everything about London," said 
 Euphemia, " except Windsor Castle. I did want, and 
 still want, to see just how the Queen keeps house, and 
 perhaps get some ideas which might be useful ; but 
 Her Majesty is away now, and, although they say 
 that s the time to go there, it is not the time for me. 
 You ll not find me going about inspecting 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 sym 
 pathy with Corinne s parents, Euphemia and myself 
 could not help becoming somewhat resigned to the 
 affliction which had befallen them, and we found our 
 selves obliged to enjoy the trip very much. Euphemia 
 became greatly excited and exhilarated as we entered 
 Paris. For weeks I knew she had been pining for 
 this city. As she stepped from the train she seemed 
 to breathe a new air, and her eyes sparkled as she 
 knew by the prattle and cries about her that she was 
 really in France. 
 
 We were obliged to wait some time in the station 
 before we could claim our baggage, and while we were 
 standing ^there Euphemia drew my attention to a 
 
POMONA S DAUGHTER. 67 
 
 placard on the wall. " Look at that ! " she exclaimed. 
 " Even here, on our very entrance to the city, we see 
 signs of that politeness which is the very heart of the 
 nation. I can t read the whole of that notice from 
 here, but those words in large letters show that it 
 refers to the observance of the ancient etiquettes. 
 Think of it ! Here in a railroad station people are 
 expected to behave to each other with the old-time 
 dignity and gallantry of our forefathers. I tell you 
 it thrills my very soul to think I am among such a 
 people, and I am glad they can t understand what I 
 say, so that I may speak right out." 
 
 I never had the heart to throw cold water on Eu 
 phemia 7 s noble emotions, and so I did not tell her that 
 the notice merely requested travellers to remove from 
 their trunks the anciennes etiquettes, or old railway 
 labels. 
 
 We were not rich tourists, and we all took lodgings 
 in a small hotel to which we had been recommended. 
 It was in the Latin Quarter, near the river, and oppo 
 site the vast palace of the Louvre, into whose laby 
 rinth of picture-galleries Euphemia and I were eager 
 to plunge. 
 
 But first we all went to the office of the American 
 Consul, and consulted him in regard to the proper 
 measures to be taken for searching 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 to increase, but there 
 were some things that disappointed her. 
 
68 POMONA S DAUGHTER. 
 
 "I thought," said she, "that people in France took 
 their morning coffee in bed, but they do not bring it 
 up to us." 
 
 " But, my dear," said I, " I am sure you said before 
 we came here that you considered taking coffee in bed 
 as an abominable habit, and that nothing could ever 
 make you like it." 
 
 " I know," said she, " that I have always thought it 
 a lazy custom, and not a bit nice, and I think so yet. 
 But still, when we are in a strange country, I expect 
 to live as other people do." 
 
 It was quite evident that Euphemia had been look 
 ing forward for some time to the novel experience of 
 taking her coffee in bed. But the gray-haired old 
 gentleman who acted as our chambermaid never 
 hinted that he supposed we wanted anything of the 
 kind. 
 
 Nothing, however, excited Euphemia s indignation 
 so much as the practice of giving a pourboire to cab 
 men and others. " It is simply feeding the flames of 
 intemperance," she said. When she had occasion to 
 take a cab by herself, she never conformed to this 
 reprehensible custom. When she paid the driver, 
 she would add something to the regular fare, but as 
 she gave it to him she would say in her most dis 
 tinct French: "Pour manger. Comprenezvous?" The 
 cocker would generally nod his head, and thank her 
 very kindly, which he had good reason to do, for she 
 never forgot that it took more money to buy food 
 than drink. 
 
 In spite of the attractions of the city, our sojourn 
 
POMONA S DAUGHTER. 69 
 
 in Paris was not satisfactory. Apart from the family 
 trouble which, oppressed us, it rained nearly all the 
 time. We were told that in order to see Paris at its 
 best we should come in the spring. In the month of 
 May it was charming. Then everybody would be out- 
 of-doors, and we would see a whole city enjoying life. 
 As we wished to enjoy life without waiting for the 
 spring, we determined to move southward, and visit 
 during the winter those parts of Europe which then 
 lay under blue skies and a warm sun. It was impos 
 sible, at present, for Pomona and Jonas to enjoy life 
 anywhere, and they would remain in Paris, and then, 
 if they did not find their child in a reasonable time, 
 they would join us. Neither of them understood 
 French, but this did not trouble them in the slightest. 
 Early in their Paris wanderings they had inet with a 
 boy who had once lived 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 
 their money s worth. 
 
 Soon after we had made up our minds to move 
 toward the south, I came home from a visit to the 
 bankers, and joyfully told Euphemia that I had met 
 Baxter. 
 
 "Baxter ? " said she, inquiringly ; "who is he ? " 
 
 " I used to go to school with him," I said ; " and to 
 think that I should meet him here ! " 
 
 "I never heard you mention him before," she re 
 marked. 
 
 "No," I answered; "it must be fifteen or sixteen 
 years since I have seen him, and really it is a great 
 
70 POMONA S DAUGHTER. 
 
 pleasure to meet him here. He is a capital fellow. 
 He was very glad to see me." 
 
 " I should think," said Euphemia, " if you like each 
 other so much that you would have exchanged visits 
 in America, or, at least, have corresponded." 
 
 " Oh, it is a very different thing at home," I said ; 
 " but here it is delightful to meet an old school friend 
 like Baxter. He is coming to see us this evening." 
 
 That evening Baxter came. He was delighted to 
 meet Euphemia, and inquired with much solicitude 
 about our plans and movements. He had never heard 
 of my marriage, and, for years, had not known whether 
 I was dead or alive. Now he took the keenest interest 
 in me and mine. We were a little sorry to find that 
 this was not Baxter s first visit to Europe. He had 
 been here several times ; and, as he expressed it, " had 
 knocked about a good deal over the Continent." He 
 was dreadfully familiar with everything, and talked 
 about some places we were longing to see in a way 
 that considerably dampened our enthusiasm. In fact, 
 there was about him an air of superiority which, 
 though tempered by much kindliness, was not alto 
 gether agreeable. He highly approved our idea of 
 leaving Paris. " The city is nothing now," he said. 
 " You ought to 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 the country 
 at its best. May is the time for Italy. Then it is 
 neither too hot nor too cold, and you will find out 
 what an Italian sky is." We said that we hoped to 
 be in England in the spring, and he agreed that we 
 
POMONA S DAUGHTER. 71 
 
 were right there. " England is never so lovely as in 
 May." 
 
 "Well!" exclaimed Euphemia; "it seems to me, 
 from all I hear, that we ought to take about twelve 
 years to see Europe. We should leave the United 
 States every April, spend May in some one place, and 
 go back in June. And this we ought to do each year 
 until we have seen all the places in May. This might 
 do very well for any one who had plenty of money, 
 and who liked the ocean, but I don t think we could 
 stand it. As for me," she continued, " I would like 
 to spend these months, so cold and disagreeable here, 
 in the sunny lands of Southern France. I want to 
 see the vineyards and the olive groves, and the dark- 
 eyed maidens singing in the fields. I long for the 
 soft skies of Provence, and to hear the musical dialect 
 in which Frederic Mistral wrote his Mir&o. " 
 
 " That sounds very well," said Baxter, " but in all 
 those southern countries 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 get 
 out of it you will freeze to death if you are iiot f careful. 
 The only way to keep warm is to be in the sun, out 
 of the wind, and that won t work on rainy days, and 
 winter is the rainy season, you know. In the houses 
 it is as cold as ice, and the fires don t amount to any 
 thing. You might as well light a bundle of wooden 
 tooth-picks and put it in the fire-place. If you could 
 sleep all the time you might be comfortable, for they 
 give you a feather-bed to cover yourself with. Out 
 side you may do well enough if you keep up a steady 
 
72 POMONA S DAUGHTER. 
 
 walking, but indoors you will have hard work to keep 
 warm. You must wear chest-protectors. They sell 
 them down there great big ones, made of rabbit- 
 skins ; and a nice thing for a man to have to wear in 
 the house is a pair of cloth bags lined with fur. 
 They would keep his feet and legs warm when he 
 isn t walking. It is well, too, to have a pair of 
 smaller fur bags for your hands when you are in the 
 house. You can have a little hole in the end of one 
 of them through which you can stick a pen-holder, 
 and then you can write letters. An india-rubber bag, 
 filled with hot water, to lower down your back, is a 
 great comfort. You haven t any idea how cold your 
 spine gets in those warm countries. And, if I were 
 you, Pd avoid a place where you see them carting 
 coal stoves around. Those are the worst spots. And 
 you need not expect to get one of the stoves, not 
 while they can sell you wood at two sticks for a 
 franc. You had better go to some place where they 
 are not accustomed to having tourists. In the regular 
 resorts they are afraid to make any show of keeping 
 warm, for fear people will think they are in the habit 
 of having cold weather. And in Italy you ve got to 
 be precious careful, or you ll be taken sick. And 
 another thing. I suppose you brought a great deal of 
 baggage with you. You, for instance," said our friend, 
 turning to me, "packed up, I suppose, a heavy over 
 coat for cold weather, and a lighter one, and a good 
 winter suit, and a good summer one. besides another 
 for spring and fall, and an old suit to lie about in 
 in the orange groves, and a dress suit, besides such con- 
 
POMONA S DAUGHTER. 73 
 
 venient articles as old boots for tramping in, pocket- 
 lanterns, and so forth." 
 
 Strange to say, I had all these, besides many other 
 things of a similar kind, and I could not help admit 
 ting it. 
 
 "Well," said Baxter, "you d better get rid of the 
 most of that as soon as you can, for if you travel with 
 that sort of heavy weight in the Mediterranean coun 
 tries, you might as well write home and get your 
 house mortgaged. All along the lines of travel, in 
 the south of Europe, you find the hotels piled up with 
 American baggage left there by travellers, who ll never 
 send for it. It reminds one of the rows of ox skele 
 tons that used to mark out the roads to California. 
 But T guess you 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, and Euphemia turned to her guide-book 
 to see if his remarks were corroborated there. 
 
 " Well, there is one comfort," she exclaimed at last ; 
 "this book says that in Naples epidemics are not so 
 deadly as they are in some other places, and if the 
 traveller observes about a page of directions, which 
 are given here, and. consults a physician the moment 
 he feels himself out of order, it is quite possible to 
 ward off attacks of fever. That is encouraging, and 
 I think we might as well go on." 
 
 " Yes," said I, " and here, in this newspaper, a hotel 
 in Venice advertises that its situation enables it to 
 avoid the odors of the Grand Canal; and an under 
 taker in Nice advertises that he will forward the 
 
74 POMONA S DAUGHTER. 
 
 corpses of tourists to all parts of Europe and America. 
 I think there is a chance of our getting back, either 
 dead or alive, and so I also say, let us go on. 7 
 
 But before we left Paris, we determined to go to 
 the Grand Opera, which we had not yet visited, and 
 Euphemia proposed that we should take Pomona with 
 us. The poor girl was looking wretched and woe 
 begone, and needed to have her mind diverted from 
 her trouble. Jonas, at the best of times, could not be 
 persuaded to any amusement of this sort, but Pomona 
 agreed to go. We had no idea of dressing for the 
 boxes, and we took good front seats in the upper 
 circle, where we could see the whole interior of the 
 splendid house. As soon as the performance com 
 menced, the old dramatic fire began to burn in Po 
 mona. Her eyes sparkled as they had not done for 
 many a day, and she really looked like her own bright 
 self. The opera was " Le Prophete," and, as none of 
 us had ever seen anything produced on so magnificent 
 a scale, we were greatly interested, especially in the 
 act which opens with that wonderful winter scene in 
 the forest, with hundreds of people scattered about 
 under the great trees, with horses and sleighs and 
 the frozen river in the background where the skaters 
 came gliding on. The grouping was picturesque and 
 artistic ; the scale of the scene was immense ; there 
 was a vast concourse of people on the stage; the 
 dances were beautiful; the merry skaters graceful; 
 the music was inspiring. 
 
 Suddenly, above the voices of the chorus, above the 
 drums and bass strings of the orchestra, above the 
 
POMONA S DAUGHTER. 75 
 
 highest notes of the sopranos, above the great chande 
 lier 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 whole figure dilating until she 
 seemed twice as large as usual, I thought she was 
 about to spring over the balcony into the house below. 
 I clutched her, and Euphemia and I, both upon our feet, 
 followed her gaze and saw upon the stage a little girl in 
 gay array, and upturned face. It was the lost Corinne. 
 
 Without a word, Pomona made a sudden turn, 
 sprang up the steps behind her, and out upon the 
 lobby, Euphemia and I close behind her. Around 
 and down the steps we swept, from lobby to lobby, 
 amazing the cloak-keepers and attendants, but stop 
 ping for nothing; down the grand staircase likQ an 
 avalanche, almost into the arms of the astonished 
 military sentinels, who, startled from their soldier 
 like propriety, sprang, muskets in hand, toward us. 
 It was only then that I was able to speak to Pomona, 
 and breathlessly ask her where she was going. 
 
 "To the stage-door!" she cried, making a motion 
 to hurl to the ground the 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 
 apparently in all the colors of the rainbow, and bear 
 ing 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, but with some foreign tinge : 
 
76 POMONA S DAUGHTER. 
 
 N 
 
 " Where is my child you stole ? " 
 
 " Stole your grandmother ! " briefly ejaculated Po 
 mona. And then, in grand forgetfulness of every 
 thing but her great joy, she folded her arms around 
 her child, and standing like a statue of motherly con 
 tent, she seemed, in our eyes, to rise to the regions of 
 the caryatides and the ceiling frescos. Not another 
 word she spoke, and amid the confusion of questions 
 and exclamations, and the wild demands of the lady, 
 Euphemia and I contrived to make her understand 
 the true state of the case, and that her child was 
 probably at our lodgings. Then there were great ex 
 clamations and quick commands ; and, directly, four 
 of us were in a carriage whirling to our hotel. All 
 the way, Pomona sat silent with her child clasped 
 tightly, while Euphemia and I kept up an earnest but 
 unsatisfactory conversation with the lady; for, as to 
 this strange affair, we could tell each other but little. 
 We learned from the lady, who was an assistant 
 soprano at the Grand Opera, how Corinne came to her 
 in Paris, and how she had always kept her with her, 
 even dressing her up, and taking her on the stage in 
 that great act where as many men, women, and chil 
 dren as possible were brought upon the scene. When 
 she 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 how they all got through the door, 
 I cannot tell. There was such a tremendous ring at 
 the gate of the court that the old concierge, who 
 
POMONA S DAUGHTER. 77 
 
 opened it by pulling a wire in his little den some 
 where in the rear, must have been dreadfully startled 
 in his sleep. We rushed through the court and up 
 the stairs past our apartments to Pomona s room ; and 
 there in the open doorway stood Jonas, his coat off, 
 his sandy hair in wild confusion, his face radiant, and 
 in his hands Little Kensington in her nightgown. 
 
 "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 his arms. 
 
 We left Jonas and Pomona to their wild delight, 
 and I accompanied the equally happy lady to the 
 opera house, where I took occasion to reclaim the 
 wraps which we had left behind in our sudden flight. 
 
 When the police of Paris were told to give up their 
 search for an absconding nurse accompanied by a child, 
 and to look for one without such encumbrance, they 
 found her. From this woman was obtained much of 
 the story I have told, and a good deal more was drawn 
 out, little by little, from Corinne, who took especial 
 pleasure in telling, in brief sentences, how she had 
 ousted the lazy baby from the carriage, and how she 
 had scratched her own legs in getting in. 
 
 "What I m proud of," said Pomona, "is that she 
 did it all herself. It wasn t none of your common 
 stealin s an findings ; an it aint everywhere you ll see 
 a child that kin git itself lost back of Prince Albert 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 high notes 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 the cabin, at Sack- 
 port, Me. I was not only alone on the deck, but I 
 was alone on the ship. The Sparhawk was a "dere 
 lict " ; that is, if a vessel 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 before that she had been drifting 
 about at the mercy of the winds and currents I did 
 not then know, but I discovered afterward that during 
 a cyclone early in April she had been abandoned by 
 her entire crew, and had since been reported five 
 times to the hydrographic office of the Navy Depart 
 ment in Washington, and her positions and probable 
 courses duly marked on the pilot chart. 
 
 She had now become one of that little fleet aban 
 doned at sea for one cause or another, and floating 
 about this way and that, as the wild winds blew or 
 the ocean currents ran. Voyaging without purpose, 
 as if manned by the spirits of ignorant landsmen, 
 sometimes backward and forward over comparatively 
 78 
 
DERELICT. 79 
 
 small ocean spaces, and sometimes drifting for many 
 months and over thousands of miles, these derelicts 
 form, at night and in fog, one of the dangers most to 
 be feared by those who sail upon the sea. 
 
 As I said before, I came on board the abandoned 
 Sparhawk on the 17th of May, and very glad indeed 
 was I to get my feet again on solid planking. Three 
 days previously the small steamer Thespia, from Ha 
 vana to New York, on which I had been a passenger, 
 had been burned at 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 I found myself in company with five 
 other men, all Cuban cigarmakers, was nearly upset 
 by a heavy wave during the second night we were 
 out, and we were all thrown into the sea. As none 
 of the Cubans could swim, they were all lost, but I 
 succeeded in reaching the boat, which had righted 
 itself, though half full of water. 
 
 There was nothing in the boat but two oars which 
 had not slipped out of their rowlocks, a leather scoop 
 which had been tied to a thwart, and the aforemen 
 tioned water. 
 
 Before morning I had nearly baled out the boat, 
 and fortunate it was for me that up to the time of 
 the upset we had had enough to eat and drink, for 
 otherwise I should not have had strength for that 
 work and for what followed. 
 
 Not long after daybreak I sighted the Sparhawk, 
 and immediately began to make such signals as I 
 could. The vessel appeared to be but a few miles 
 
80 DERELICT. 
 
 distant, and I could not determine whether she was 
 approaching me or going away from me. I could see 
 no sign that my signals had been noticed, and began 
 frantically to row toward her. After a quarter of an 
 hour 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 s eyes, that something 
 was the matter with her. Portions of her mast and 
 rigging were gone, and one large sail at her stern 
 appeared to be fluttering in the wind. 
 
 But it mattered not to me what had happened to 
 her. She was a ship afloat, and I must reach her. 
 Tired, hungry, and thirsty I rowed and rowed, but it 
 was not until long after noon that I reached her. She 
 must have been much farther from me than I had 
 supposed. 
 
 With a great deal of trouble I managed to clamber 
 on board, and found the ship deserted. I had sus 
 pected that this would be the case, for as I had drawn 
 near I would have seen some sign that my approach 
 was noticed had there been anybody on board to per 
 ceive it. But I found food and water, and when I 
 was no longer hungry or thirsty I threw myself 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 been deserted and left to her fate I was 
 not seaman enough to know. It is true that her masts 
 and rigging were in a doleful condition, but she did 
 not appear to be leaking, and rode well upon the sea. 
 There was plenty of food and water on board, and 
 comfortable accommodations. I afterwards learned 
 
DERELICT. 81 
 
 that during the terrible cyclone which had overtaken 
 her, she had been on her beam ends for an hour before 
 the crew left her in the boats. 
 
 For the first day or two of my sojourn on the Spar- 
 hawk I was as happy as a man could be under the cir 
 cumstances. I thought myself to be perfectly safe, 
 and believed it could not be long before I would be 
 picked up. Of course I did not know my latitude and 
 longitude, but I felt sure that the part of the Atlantic 
 in which I was must be frequently crossed by steamers 
 and other vessels. 
 
 About the fourth day I began to feel uneasy. I had 
 seen but three sails, and these had taken no notice of 
 the signal which I had hung as high in the mizzen- 
 mast as I had dared to climb. It was, indeed, no 
 wonder that the signal had attracted no attention 
 among the fluttering shreds of sails about it. 
 
 I believe that one ship must have approached quite 
 near me. I had been below some time, looking over 
 the books in the captain s room, and when I came on 
 deck I saw the stern of the ship, perhaps a mile or 
 two distant, and sailing away. Of course my shouts 
 and wavings were of no avail. She had probably rec 
 ognized the derelict Sparhawk and had made a note of 
 her present position, in order to report to the hydro- 
 graphic office. 
 
 The weather had been fair for the most part of 
 the time, the sea moderately smooth, and when the 
 wind was strong, the great sail on the mizzen-mast, 
 which remained hoisted and which I had tightened 
 up a little, acted after the manner of the long end 
 
82 DERELICT. 
 
 of a weather-vane, and kept the ship s head to the 
 sea. 
 
 Thus it will be seen that I was not in a bad plight ; 
 but although I appreciated this, I grew more and more 
 troubled and uneasy. For several days I had not seen 
 a sail, and if I should see one how could I attract 
 attention ? It must be that the condition of the ves 
 sel indicated that there was no one on board. Had I 
 known that the Sparhawk was already entered 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 second night it was broken by the wind, and I 
 could find only one other in good condition. The 
 ship s lights must have been blown away in the storm, 
 together with her boats and much of her rigging. I 
 would not hang 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 rele 
 gated to the ranks of the forsaken, I should better 
 have appreciated the importance of allowing passing 
 vessels to see that there was a light on board the 
 Sparhcvwk, 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 by vessels of 
 every kind, that I was not in the track of anything 
 going anywhere. Every day there seemed to be less 
 and less wind, and when I had been on board a week, 
 the /Sparhawk was gently rising and falling on a 
 
DERELICT. 83 
 
 smooth, sea in a dead calm. Hour after hour I swept 
 the horizon with the captain s glass, but only once did 
 I see anything to encourage me. This was what ap 
 peared like a long line of black smoke against the dis 
 tant 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. I found spirits and wine, and even 
 medicines, and in the captain s room there were pipes, 
 tobacco, and some books. 
 
 This comparative comfort gave me a new and 
 strange kind of despair. I began to fear that I might 
 become contented to live out my life alone in the 
 midst of this lonely ocean. In that case, what sort of 
 a man should I become ? 
 
 It was about 8.30 by the captain s chronometer, 
 when I came on deck on the morning of the 25th of 
 May. I had become a late riser, for what was the 
 good of rising early when there was nothing to rise 
 for ? I had scarcely raised my eyes above the rail of 
 the ship when, to my utter amazement, I perceived a 
 vessel not a mile away. The sight was so unexpected, 
 and the surprise was so great, that my heart almost 
 stopped beating as I stood and gazed at her. 
 
 She was a medium-sized iron steamer, and lay upon 
 the sea in a peculiar fashion, her head being much 
 lower than her stern, the latter elevated so much that 
 I could see part of the blades of her motionless pro 
 peller. She presented the appearance of a ship which 
 was just about to plunge, bow foremost, into the 
 
84 DERELICT. 
 
 depths of the ocean, or which had just risen, stern 
 foremost, from those depths. 
 
 With the exception of her position, and the fact 
 that no smoke-stack was visible, she seemed, to my 
 eyes, to be in good enough trim. She had probably 
 been in collision with something, and her forward 
 compartments had filled. Deserted by her crew, she 
 had become a derelict, and, drifting about in her deso 
 lation, had fallen in with another derelict as desolate 
 as herself. The fact that I was on board the Spar- 
 hawk did not, in rny eyes, make that vessel any the 
 less forsaken and forlorn. 
 
 The coming of this steamer gave me no comfort. 
 Two derelicts, in their saddening effects upon the 
 spirits, would be twice as bad as one, and, more than 
 that, there was danger, should a storm arise, that they 
 would dash into each other and both go to the bottom. 
 Despairing as I had become, I did not want to go to 
 the bottom. 
 
 As I gazed upon the steamer I could see that she 
 was gradually approaching me. There was a little 
 breeze this morning, and so much of her hull stood 
 out of the water that it caught a good deal of the 
 wind. The Sparhawlc, on the contrary, was but little 
 affected by the breeze, for apart from the fact that the 
 great sail kept her head always to the wind, she was 
 heavily laden with sugar and molasses and sat deep in 
 the water. The other was not coming directly toward 
 me, but would probably pass at a considerable dis 
 tance. I did not at all desire that she should come 
 near the Sparhawlc. 
 
DERELICT. 85 
 
 Suddenly my heart gave a jump. I could distinctly 
 see on the stern of the steamer the flutter of something 
 white. It was waved ! Somebody must be waving it ! 
 
 Hitherto I had not thought of the spyglass, for with 
 my naked eyes I could see all that I cared to see of 
 the vessel, but now I dashed below to get it. When 
 I brought it to bear upon the steamer I saw plainly 
 that the white object was waved by some one, and 
 that some one was a woman. I could see above the 
 rail the upper part of her body, her uncovered head, 
 her uplifted arm wildly waving. 
 
 Presently the waving ceased, and then the thought 
 suddenly struck me that, receiving no response, she 
 had in despair given up signalling. Cursing my stu 
 pidity, 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, and so did she. No more of 
 that was needed. I sprang to the deck and took up 
 the glass. 
 
 The woman was gone, but in a few moments she 
 reappeared armed with a glass. This action filled me 
 with amazement. Could it be possible that the woman 
 was alone on the steamer, and that there was no one 
 else to signal and to look out ? The thing was incredi 
 ble, and yet, if there were men on board, why did they 
 not show themselves ? And why did not one of them 
 wave the signal and use the glass ? 
 
 The steamer was steadily but very slowly nearing 
 the /Sparhawk, when the woman removed the glass 
 and stood up waist high above the rail of the steamer. 
 
86 DERELICT. 
 
 Now I could see her much better ; I fancied I could 
 almost discern her features. She was not old ; she 
 was well shaped; her bluish gray dress fitted her 
 snugly. Holding the rail with one hand she stood up 
 very erect, which must have been somewhat difficult, 
 considering the inclination of the deck. For a moment 
 I fancied I had seen or known some one whose habit it 
 was to stand up very erect as this woman stood upon 
 the steamer. The notion was banished as absurd. 
 
 Wondering what I should do, what instant action 
 I should take, I laid down my glass, and as I did so 
 the woman immediately put up hers. Her object was 
 plain enough ; she wanted to observe me, which she 
 could not well do when a view of my face was ob 
 structed by the glass and my outstretched arms. I 
 was sorry that I had not sooner given her that oppor 
 tunity, and for some moments I stood and faced her, 
 waving my hat as I did so. 
 
 I was wild with excitement. What should I do ? 
 What could I do ? There were no boats on the Spar- 
 hawk, and what had become of the one in which I 
 reached her I did not know. Thinking of nothing 
 but getting on board the vessel, I had forgotten to 
 make the boat fast, and when I went 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 was hope in that. 
 
 But there might be no need for a boat. Under the 
 influence of the gentle breeze, the steamer was steadily 
 drawing nearer to the SparhaivJc. Perhaps they might 
 touch each other. But this idea was soon dispelled, 
 
DERELICT. 87 
 
 for I could see that the wind would carry the steamer 
 past me, although, perhaps, at no great distance. 
 Then my hopes sprang back to the boat hanging from 
 her davits. 
 
 But before these hopes could take shape the woman 
 and her glass died out of sight behind the rail of the 
 steamer. In about a minute she reappeared, stood up 
 erect, and applied a speaking-trumpet to her mouth. 
 It was possible that a high, shrill voice might have 
 been heard from one vessel to the other, but it was 
 plain enough that this was a woman who took no use 
 less chances. I, too, must be prepared to hail as well 
 as to be hailed. Quickly I secured a speaking-trumpet 
 from the captain 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 my life : " Are you Mr. Kockwell ? " 
 
 This question almost took away my senses. Was 
 this reality ? or had a spirit risen from this lonely 
 ocean to summon me somewhere ? Was this the way 
 people died ? Rockwell ? Yes, my name was Bock- 
 well. At least it had 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 min 
 utes I saw her no more. During that time I did noth- 
 
88 DERELICT. 
 
 ing but stand and look at the steamer, which was 
 moving more slowly than before, for the reason that 
 the wind was dying away. She was now, however, 
 nearly opposite me, and so near that if the wind 
 should cease entirely, conversation might be held 
 without the aid of trumpets. I earnestly hoped this 
 might be the case, for I had now recovered the pos 
 session of my senses, and greatly desired 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 Mary Phillips." 
 
 Mary Phillips ! it seemed to me that I remembered 
 the name. I was certainly familiar with the erect 
 attitude, and I fancied I recognized the 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-second Street ! What manner of conjec 
 ture was this ? I clasped my head in my hands 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 across the water. 
 
 "Miss Bertha Nugent," she replied. 
 
 A fire seemed to blaze within me. Standing on tip 
 toe I fairly screamed : " Bertha Nugent ! Where is she ? " 
 
DERELICT. 89 
 
 The answer came back : " Here ! " And when I 
 heard it my legs gave way beneath me and I fell to 
 the deck. I must have remained for some minutes 
 half lying, half seated, on the deck. I was nearly 
 stupefied by the statement I had heard. 
 
 I will now say a few words concerning Miss Bertha 
 Nugent. She was a lady 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 
 she suspected my passion was a question about which 
 I had never been able to satisfy myself. Sometimes I 
 had one opinion; sometimes another. Before I had 
 taken any steps to assure myself positively in regard 
 to this point, Miss Nugent went abroad with a party 
 of friends, and for eight months I had neither seen 
 nor heard from her. 
 
 During that time I had not ceased to berate myself 
 for my inexcusable procrastination. As she went 
 away without knowing my feelings toward her, of 
 course there could be no correspondence. Whatever 
 she might have suspected, or whatever she might have 
 expected, there was nothing between us. 
 
 But on my part my love for Bertha had grown day 
 by day. Hating the city and even the country where 
 I had seen her and loved her and where now she was 
 not, I travelled here and there, and during the winter 
 went to the West Indies. There I had remained until 
 the weather had become too warm 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 
 in the spring or summer, and I wished to be there 
 
90 DERELICT. 
 
 when she arrived. If, when I met her, I found her 
 free, there would be no more delay. My life thence 
 forth would be black or white. And now here she 
 was near me in a half-wrecked steamer on the wide 
 Atlantic, with no companion, as I knew, but her maid, 
 Mary Phillips. * 
 
 I now had a very distinct recollection of Mary 
 Phillips. In my visits to the Nugent household in 
 Forty-second Street I had frequently seen this young 
 woman. Two or three times when Miss Nugent had 
 not been at home, I had had slight interviews with 
 her. She always treated me with a certain cordiality, 
 and I had some reason to think that if Miss Nugent 
 really suspected my feelings, Mary Phillips had given 
 her some hints on the subject. 
 
 Mary Phillips was an exceedingly bright and quick 
 young woman, and I am quite sure that she could see 
 into the state of a man s feelings as well as any one. 
 Bertha had given me many instances of her maid s 
 facilities for adapting herself to circumstances, and I 
 was now thankful from the bottom of my heart that 
 Bertha had this woman with her. 
 
 I was recovering from the stupefaction into which 
 my sudden emotions had plunged me, when a hail 
 came across the water, first in Mary Phillips s natural 
 voice, and then through a speaking-trumpet. I stood 
 up and answered. 
 
 "I was wondering," cried Mary Phillips, "what 
 had become of you ; I thought perhaps you had gone 
 down to breakfast." In answer I called to her to tell 
 me where Miss Nugent was, how she was, how she 
 
DERELICT. 91 
 
 came to be in this surprising situation, and how many 
 people there were on board the steamer. 
 
 " Miss Nugent has not been at all well," answered 
 Mary, "but she brightened up as soon as I told her 
 you were here. She cannot come on deck very well, 
 because the pitch of the ship makes the stairs so 
 steep. But I am going to give her her breakfast 
 now, and after she has eaten something she may be 
 stronger, and I will try to get her on deck." 
 
 Brightened up when she knew I was near ! That 
 was glorious ! That brightened 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 upon Ber 
 tha s steamer. The distance between us did not seem 
 to have varied. How I longed for a little breeze that 
 might bring us together ! Bertha was on that vessel, 
 trusting, perhaps, entirely to me : and what could I 
 do if some breeze did not bring us together ? I looked 
 about for something on which I might float to her ; 
 but if I made a raft I was not sure that I could steer 
 or propel it, and I might float away and become a 
 third derelict. Once I thought of boldly springing 
 into the water, and swimming to her ; but the dis 
 tance was considerable, my swimming powers were 
 only moderate, and there might be sharks. The risk 
 was too great. But surely we would come together. 
 Even if no kind wind arose, there was that strange 
 attraction which draws to each other the bubbles on 
 a cup of tea. If bubbles, why not ships ? 
 
 It was not long before nearly one-half of Mary 
 
92 DERELICT. 
 
 Phillips appeared above the rail. " Miss Nugent nas 
 come on deck," she cried, " and she wants to see you. 
 She can t stand up very long, because everything is 
 so sliding." 
 
 Before my trembling lips could frame an answer, 
 she had bobbed out of sight, and presently reappeared 
 supporting another person, and that other person was 
 Bertha Nugent. 
 
 I could discern her features perfectly. She was 
 thinner and paler than when I had last seen her, but 
 her beauty was all there. The same smile which I 
 had seen so often was upon her face as she waved her 
 handkerchief to me. I waved my hat in return, but 
 I tried two or three times before I could speak loud 
 enough for her to hear me. Then I threw into 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 in 
 dicate that, apart from the extraordinary pleasure of 
 meeting a friend on this waste of waters, she was 
 glad that I was that friend. 
 
 " She can t speak loud enough for you to hear her," 
 called out Mary Phillips, " but she says that now you 
 are here she thinks everything will be all right. She 
 wants to know if you are alone on your ship, and if 
 you can come to us." 
 
 I explained my situation, but said I did not doubt 
 but the two ships would gradually drift together. 
 " Is there no one to lower your boat ? " I asked. 
 
 "No one but me," answered Mary, "and I don t 
 believe I am up to that sort of thing. Miss Nugent 
 
DERELICT. 93 
 
 says _ must not touch it for fear I might fall over 
 board." 
 
 "Do you mean to say," I cried, "that there is 
 nobody but you two on board that steamer ? " 
 
 " No other living soul ! " said Mary, " and I ll tell 
 you how it all happened." 
 
 Then she told their story. The friends with whom 
 Miss Nugent had travelled had determined to go to 
 Egypt, but as she did not wish to accompany them, 
 she had remained in Spain and Algiers during the 
 early spring, and, eleven days before, she and Mary 
 Phillips had started from Marseilles for home in the 
 steamer La FidelM. Five days ago, the steamer had 
 collided in the night with something, Mary did not 
 know what, and her front part was filled with water. 
 Everybody was sure that the vessel would soon sink, 
 and the captain, crew, and passengers all French 
 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 been implored to go in the boats, but the 
 night was dark, the sea was rough and pitchy, and 
 she was sure the boat would upset before* they had 
 gone a hundred yards. Miss Nugent and she both 
 agreed that it was much safer to remain on a large 
 vessel like the Fidelite, even if she was half full of 
 water, than to go out on the dark and stormy water 
 in a miserable little shell of a boat. The captain got 
 down on his knees and implored them to go, but they 
 were resolute. He then declared that he would force 
 
94 DERELICT. 
 
 them into the craft, but Mary Phillips declared that if 
 he tried that, she would shoot him ; she had a pistol 
 ready. Then, when they had all got in the boats but 
 the captain, two of the men jumped on board again, 
 threw their arms around him and carried him off, 
 vowing that he should not lose his life on account of 
 a pair of senseless Americans. A boat would be left, 
 the men said, which they might use if they chose ; 
 but, of course, this was more a piece of sentiment 
 than anything else. 
 
 "And now you see," cried Mary Phillips, "I was 
 right, and they were wrong. This steamer has not 
 sunk ; and I have no manner of doubt that every soul 
 who went away in those boats is now at the bottom 
 of the sea." 
 
 This was indeed a wonderful story; and the fact 
 that Bertha Nugent was on board a derelict vessel 
 and should happen to fall in with me on board of 
 another, was one of those events which corroborate 
 the trite and hackneyed adage, that truth is stranger 
 than fiction. 
 
 It was surprising how plainly I could hear Mary 
 Phillips across the smooth, 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. 
 And soon after (it must be so) I would be with 
 her. 
 
 I inquired if they had food and whatever else they 
 needed ; and Mary Phillips replied that, with the 
 exception of the slanting position of the ship, they 
 were very comfortable ; that she did the cooking ; 
 
DERELICT. 95 
 
 and that Miss Nugent said that they lived a great 
 deal better than when the ship s cook cooked. 
 
 Mary also informed me that she had arranged a 
 very nice couch for Miss Nugent 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 ; and that whenever a little wind arose, 
 and the vessels were blown nearer each other, she 
 wished to get up and talk to me herself. 
 
 I answered that I thought both the ships were safe 
 enough, and should be delighted to talk with Miss 
 Nugent, but in my heart I could not believe that 
 a vessel with her bow as low as that of the Fidelit& 
 could be safe in bad weather, to say nothing of the 
 possibility of, at any time, the water bursting into 
 other compartments of the ship. The SparhawJc I 
 believed to be in much better condition. Despite the 
 fact that she was utterly helpless as far as sailing 
 qualities were concerned, the greater part of her 
 masts and rigging being in a wretched condition, and 
 her rudder useless, she did not appear to be damaged. 
 I had no reason to believe that she leaked, and she 
 floated well, 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 SparhawJc, where there was hope that we 
 could all remain safely until we were rescued. With 
 this purpose in view, the moment Mary Phillips dis 
 appeared, I went below and prepared the captain s 
 cabin for Bertha and her maid. I carried to the 
 forward part of the vessel all the pipes, bottles, and 
 
96 DERELICT. 
 
 glasses, and such other things as were not suitable for 
 a lady s apartment, and thoroughly aired the cabin, 
 making it as neat and comfortable as circumstances 
 permitted. The very thought of offering 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 La Fidelite, and 
 Mary Phillips would make it fast, I knew. Then 
 with a windlass I might draw the two vessels together. 
 Then I would spring on board the steamer, and when 
 I had transferred Bertha and Mary to the Sparhawk, 
 would cut loose La Fid elite to drift where she pleased. 
 
 It was possible that I might convey from one vessel 
 to the other some articles of luxury or necessity, but 
 on this point I would not come to any definite conclu 
 sion. I would consult Mary Phillips on the subject. 
 
 Another plan was that if we did not approach very 
 close, I would endeavor to throw a long, light line to 
 .the steamer, and Mary Phillips would attach it to the 
 boat which hung from the davits. Into this she would 
 put a pair of oars and lower it as well as she could ; 
 then I would haul it to the Sparhawk, row over to the 
 steamer, and transfer Bertha and Mary to my vessel. 
 It was possible that we should not have to be very 
 near each other for me to carry out this plan. Had I 
 been a seaman, I might have thought of some other 
 plan better than these. But I was not a seaman. 
 
 I did not waste any time in the cabin, although I 
 was very desirous to make it as pleasant as possible 
 for the reception of Bertha, but when I returned to 
 
DERELICT. 97 
 
 the deck I was astonished to find that the steamer was 
 farther away than it had been when I went below. 
 There was a slight breeze from the east, which 
 had nearly turned the Sparhawk about with her bow 
 to the wind, but was gently carrying La Fidelite 
 before it. 
 
 I seized the speaking-trumpet, and with all my 
 power, hailed the steamer ; and in return there came 
 to me a single sound, the sound of the vowel 0. 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 distant steamer. The wind died away, and I 
 could perceive that she was not becoming more distant. 
 Then I began to hope. Another wind might spring 
 up which would bring her back. 
 
 And in an hour or two the other wind did spring 
 up; I felt it in my face, and slowly the Sparhawk 
 turned her bow toward it, and, enrapturing sight ! 
 the steamer, with my Bertha on board, began to move 
 slowly back to me ! 
 
 The wind which was now blowing came from the 
 southwest, and La^Fid&ttt, which before had lain to the 
 southward of the Sparhawk) was passing to the north 
 of my vessel. Nearer and nearer she came, and my 
 whole soul was engaged in the hope that she might 
 not pass too far north. 
 
 But I soon saw that unless the wind changed, the 
 steamer would probably pass within hailing distance. 
 
 Soon I could see Mary Phillips on deck, speaking- 
 trumpet in hand; and seizing my trumpet, I hailed 
 
98 DERELICT. 
 
 when as I thought we were near enough. I eagerly 
 inquired after Bertha, and the high voice of Mary 
 Phillips came across the water, telling me that Miss 
 Nugent was not feeling at all well. 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 I could talk to her, I might 
 encourage her." 
 
 "She needs it," answered Mary, "but she cannot 
 speak through the trumpet ; 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. Per 
 haps she may be able to speak to you." 
 
 The two vessels were now near enough for a high- 
 pitched conversation without the assistance of trum 
 pets, and Mary Phillips assisted Bertha to the side 
 of the steamer, where I could distinctly see her. I 
 shouted as hearty a greeting as ever was sent across 
 the water, bidding her to keep up a good heart, for 
 help of some kind must surely come to us. She tried 
 to answer me, but her voice was not strong enough. 
 Then she shook her head, by which I understood that 
 she did not agree with me in my hopeful predictions. 
 I called back to her that in all this drifting about the 
 two vessels must certainly come together, and then, 
 with the assistance of the steamer s boat, we could 
 certainly devise some way of getting out of this an 
 noying plight. She smiled, apparently at the mildness 
 of this expression, and again shook her head. She 
 now seemed tired, for her position by the rail was not 
 an easy one to maintain, and her maid assisted her to 
 
DERELICT. 99 
 
 her couch on the deck. Then stood up Mary Phillips, 
 speaking loud and promptly : 
 
 " She has a message for you/ she said, " which she 
 wanted to give to you herself, but she cannot do it. 
 She thinks but I tell her it is of no use thinking 
 that way that we are bound to be lost. You may 
 be saved because your ship seems in a better condi 
 tion than ours, and she does not believe that the two 
 vessels will ever come together ; so she wants me to 
 tell you that if you get home and she never does, that 
 she wishes her 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 it di 
 vided 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. She will get home in safety and 
 attend to her own affairs." 
 
 " I think so, too," cried Mary Phillips ; " but I had 
 to tell you what she said. And now she wants to 
 know if you have any message to send to your parents, 
 for we might blow off somewhere and be picked up, 
 while this might not happen to you. But I don t 
 believe in that sort of thing any more than in the 
 other." 
 
 I shouted back my disbelief in the necessity of any 
 such messages, when Mary Phillips seized her trumpet 
 and cried that she did not hear me. 
 
 Alas ! the breeze was still blowing, and the steamer 
 was moving away to the northeast. Through my 
 
100 DERELICT. 
 
 trumpet I repeated my words, and then Mary said 
 something which I could not hear. The wind was 
 against her. I shouted to her to speak louder, and 
 she must have screamed with all her force, but I 
 could only hear some words to the effect that we were 
 bound to come together again, and she waved her 
 handkerchief cheerily. 
 
 Then the steamer moved farther and farther away, 
 and speaking-trumpets were of no avail. I seized the 
 glass, and watched La Fideltt until she was nothing 
 but a black spot upon the sea. 
 
 The, wind grew lighter, and finally died away, and 
 the black spot remained upon the horizon. I did not 
 take my eyes from it until night drew on and blotted 
 it out. I had not thought of advising Mary Phillips 
 to hang out a light, and she was probably not suffi 
 ciently accustomed to the ways of ships to think of 
 doing it herself, although there could be no doubt 
 that there were lanterns suitable for the purpose on 
 the steamer. Had there been a light upon that vessel, 
 I should have watched the glimmer all night. As it 
 was, I slept upon the deck, waking frequently to peer 
 out into the darkness, and to listen for a hail from a 
 speaking-trumpet. 
 
 In the morning there was a -black spot upon the 
 horizon. I fancied that it was a little nearer than 
 when I last saw it ; but in the course of the forenoon 
 it faded away altogether. Then despair seized upon 
 me, and I cared not whether I lived or died. I forgot 
 to eat, and threw myself upon the deck, where I re 
 mained for several hours, upbraiding myself for my 
 
DERELICT. 101 
 
 monstrous, unpardonable folly in neglecting the oppor 
 tunities which were now lost. 
 
 Over and over again I told myself bitterly, that 
 when I had been near enough to the vessel which bore 
 Bertha Nugent to converse with Mary Phillips with 
 out the aid of a speaking-trumpet, I should have tried 
 to reach that vessel, no matter what the danger or 
 the difficulties. I should have launched a raft I 
 should have tried to swim I should have done 
 something. 
 
 And more than that, even had it been impossible 
 for me to reach the steamer, I should have endeavored 
 to reach Bertha s heart. I should have 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 have been able to answer me, but she could 
 have heard me. For that terrible mistake, that crime, 
 there was no pardon. Now every chance was gone. 
 What reason was there to suppose that these two 
 derelicts ever again would drift together ? 
 
 In the afternoon I rose languidly and looked about 
 me. I saw something on the horizon, and seizing the 
 glass, I knew it to be La Fidelite. I could recognize 
 the slant of the hull, of the masts. 
 
 Now hope blazed up again. If she were nearer, she 
 must come nearer still. I recovered my ordinary 
 state of mind sufficiently to know that I was hungry, 
 and that I must eat to be strong and ready for what 
 might happen. 
 
 Upon one thing I was determined. If Bertha 
 should ever again be brought near enough to hear me, 
 
DERELICT. 
 
 I would tell her that I loved her. The object of life, 
 however much of it might be left me, should be to 
 make Bertha know that I loved her. If I swam 
 toward the vessel, or floated on a plank, 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 not increase. This was a region or sea 
 son of calms or fitful winds. During the rest of the 
 day the distant vessel continued to be a black speck 
 upon the smooth and gently rolling sea. Again I 
 spent the night on deck, but I did not wake to listen 
 or watch. I was worn out and slept heavily. 
 
 The day was bright when I was awakened by a 
 chilly feeling : a strong breeze was blowing over me. 
 I sprang to my feet. There was quite a heavy sea; 
 the vessel was rolling and pitching beneath me, and 
 not far away, not more than a mile, La Fidelite was 
 coming straight toward me. 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 to the breeze, was moving at a much slower 
 rate. 
 
 As I looked at the rapidly approaching steamer, it 
 seemed as if she certainly must run into the Spar- 
 hawk. But for that I cared not. All that I now 
 hoped for was that Bertha should come to me. 
 Whether one vessel sank or the other, or whether 
 both went down together, I should be with Bertha, I 
 would live or die with her. Mary Phillips stood full 
 in view on the stern of the oncoming steamer, a speak 
 ing-trumpet in her hand. I could now see that it was 
 
DERELICT. 103 
 
 not probable that the two vessels would collide. The 
 steamer would pass me, but probably very near. Be 
 fore I could make up my mind what I should do in 
 this momentous emergency, Mary Phillips hailed me. 
 
 " When we get near enough," she shouted, " throw 
 me a rope. I ll tie it to the boat and cut it loosed 
 
 Wildly I looked about me for a line which I might 
 throw. Cordage there was in abundance, but it was 
 broken or fastened to something, or too heavy to han 
 dle. I remembered, however, seeing a coil of small 
 rope below, and hastening down, I brought it on deck, 
 took the coil in my right hand, and stood ready to 
 hurl it when the proper moment should come. 
 
 That moment came quickly. The steamer was not 
 a hundred feet from me when I reached the deck. It 
 passed me on the port side. 
 
 " Be ready ! " cried Mary Phillips, the instant she 
 saw me. It was not now neces&ary 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 that rope. Give it a good heave. 
 Throw now ! " 
 
 The two vessels were not fifty feet apart. With all 
 my strength I hurled the coil of rope. The steamer s 
 stern was above me, and I aimed high. The flying 
 coil went over the deck of La Fidelite, but in my 
 excitement I forgot to grasp tightly the other end of 
 it, and the whole rope flew from me and disappeared 
 beyond the steamer. Stupefied by this deplorable 
 
104 DERELICT. 
 
 accident, I staggered backward and a heave of the 
 vessel threw me against the rail. Recovering myself, 
 I glared about for another 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 I remembered 
 her appearance, she seemed to be tearing her hair. 
 In a flash I thought of my resolution. Bushing to 
 the rail, I put the trumpet to my mouth. The wind 
 would carry my words to her if it would not 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. Not an in 
 stant was to be lost. But she did not move. 
 
 " Tell her I love her ! " I yelled through the trum 
 pet. " Tell her that I love her now and shall love her 
 forever. Tell her I love her, no matter what happens. 
 Tell her I love her, I love her, I love her ! " And 
 this I continued to scream until it was plain I was no 
 longer heard. Then I threw down my useless trumpet 
 and seized the glass.* Madly I scanned the steamer. 
 No sign of Bertha was to be seen. Mary Phillips was 
 there, and now she waved her handkerchief. At all 
 events she forgave me. At such a terrible moment 
 what could one do but forgive ? 
 
 I watched, and watched, and watched, but no figure 
 but that of Mary Phillips appeared upon the steamer, 
 and at last I could not even distinguish that. Now I 
 became filled with desperate fury. I determined to 
 
DERELICT. 105 
 
 sail after Bertha and overtake her. A great sail was 
 flapping from one of my masts, and I would put my 
 ship about, and the strong wind should carry me to 
 Bertha. 
 
 I knew nothing of sailing, but even if I had known, 
 all my efforts would 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, I 
 know not what had happened to it. I seized the ropes 
 attached to the boom of the sail, I pulled, I jerked, I 
 hauled; I did not know what I was doing. I did 
 nothing. At last, in utter despair and exhaustion, I 
 fell to the deck. 
 
 But before the wind had almost died away, and 
 in the afternoon the sea was perfectly calm, and when 
 the sun set I could plainly see the steamer on the far- 
 off edge of the glistening water. During the whole 
 of th<? next day I saw her. She neither disappeared 
 nor came nearer. Sometimes I was in the depths of 
 despair; sometimes I began to hope a little; but I 
 had one great solace in the midst of my misery 
 Bertha knew that I loved her. I was positively sure 
 that my words had been heard. 
 
 It was a strange manner in which I had told my 
 love. I had roared my burning words of passion 
 through a speaking-trumpet, and I had told them not 
 to Bertha herself, but to Mary Phillips. But the 
 manner was of no importance. Bertha now knew that 
 I loved her. That was everything to me. 
 
 As long as light remained I watched La Fidelite 
 through the glass, but I could see nothing but a black 
 
106 DERELICT. 
 
 form with a slanting upper line. She was becalmed 
 as I was. Why could she not have been becalmed 
 near me? I dared not let my mind rest upon the 
 opportunities I had lost when she had been becalmed 
 near me. During the night the wind must have risen 
 again, for the Sparhawk rolled and dipped a good 
 deal, troubling my troubled slumbers. Very early in 
 the morning I was awakened by what sounded like a 
 distant scream. I did not know whether it 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; which made 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 was screaming through the trumpet. I 
 stood and gazed in petrified amazement. 
 
 I could not hear what Mary Phillips said. Perhaps 
 my senses were benumbed. Perhaps the wind was 
 carrying away her words. That it was blowing from 
 me toward her soon became too evident. The steamer 
 was receding from the Sparhawk. The instant I 
 became aware of this my powers 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 my might : " 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 to her mouth, and I could see that 
 
DERELICT. 107 
 
 she was going to make a great effort. The distance 
 between us had increased considerably since I came 
 on deck, and she had to speak against the wind. 
 
 With all the concentrated intensity which high- 
 strung nerves could give to a man who is trying to 
 hear the one thing to him worth hearing in the world, 
 I listened. Had a wild beast fixed his claws and teeth 
 into 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 aspect that her 
 message did not reach me, for she tried again and 
 again to make herself heard. 
 
 The wind continued to blow, and the steamer con 
 tinued to float and float and float away. A wind had 
 come up in the night. It had blown Bertha near me ; 
 perhaps it had blown her very near me. She had not 
 known it, and I had not known it. Mary Phillips 
 had not known it until it was too late, and now that 
 wind had blown her past me and was blowing her 
 away. For a time there was a flutter of a handker 
 chief, but only one handkerchief, and then La Fidelite, 
 with Bertha on board, was blown away until she dis 
 appeared, and I never saw her again. 
 
 All night I sat upon the deck of the fiparhawJc, 
 thinking, wondering, and conjecturing. I was in a 
 strange state of mind. I did not wonder or conjecture 
 whether Bertha s vessel would come back to me again; 
 I did not think of what I should do if it did come 
 back. I did not think of what I should do if it never 
 
108 DERELICT. 
 
 came back. All night I thought, wondered, and conjec 
 tured what Mary Phillips had meant by the word " but." 
 
 It was plain to me what "yes" had meant. My 
 message had been heard, and I knew Mary Phillips 
 well enough to feel positively sure that having received 
 such a message under such circumstances she had 
 given it to Bertha. Therefore I had positive proof 
 that Bertha knew that I loved her. But what did the 
 "but" mean? 
 
 It seemed to me that there were a thousand things 
 that this word might mean. It might mean that she 
 was already engaged to be married. It might mean 
 that she had vowed never to marry. It might mean 
 that she disapproved of such words at such a time. I 
 cannot repeat the tenth of the meanings which I 
 thought I might attach to this word. But the worst 
 thing that it could purport, the most terrible significa 
 tion of all, recurred to me over and over again. It 
 might mean that Bertha could not return my affection. 
 She knew that I loved her, but she could not love me. 
 
 In the morning I ate something and then lay down 
 upon the deck to sleep. It was well that I should do 
 this, I thought, because if Bertha came near me again 
 in the daytime Mary Phillips would hail me if I were 
 not awake. All night long I would watch, and, as 
 there was a moon, I would see Bertha s vessel if it 
 came again. 
 
 I did watch all that afternoon and all that night, 
 and during my watching I never ceased to wonder and 
 conjecture what Mary Phillips meant by that word 
 "but." 
 
DERELICT. 109 
 
 About the middle of the next day I saw in the dis 
 tance something upon the water. I first thought it a 
 bit of spray, for it was white, but as there were now 
 no waves there could be no spray. With the glass I 
 could only see that it was something white shining in 
 the sun. It might be the glistening body of a dead 
 fish. After a time it became plainer to me. It was 
 such a little object that the faint breezes which occa 
 sionally arose had more influence upon the Sparhawk 
 than upon it, and so I gradually approached it. 
 
 In about an hour I made out that it was something 
 round, with something white raised above it, and then 
 I discovered that it was a life-preserver, which sup 
 ported a little stick, to which a white flag, probably 
 a handkerchief, was attached. Then I saw that on 
 the life-preserver lay a little yellow mass. 
 
 Now I knew what it was that I saw. It was a 
 message from Bertha. Mary Phillips had devised 
 the means of sending it. Bertha had sent it. 
 
 The life-preserver was a circular one, filled with 
 air. In the centre of this, Mary, by means of many 
 strings, had probably secured a stick in an upright 
 position ; she had then fastened a handkerchief to the 
 top of the stick. Bertha had written a message and 
 Mary had wrapped it in a piece of oiled silk and fas 
 tened it to the life-preserver. She had then lowered 
 this contrivance to the surface of the water, hoping 
 that it would float to me or I would float to it. 
 
 I was floating to it. It contained the solution of 
 all my doubts, the answer to all my conjectures. It 
 was Bertha s reply to my declaration of love, and I 
 
110 DERELICT. 
 
 was drifting slowly but surely toward it. Soon I 
 would know. 
 
 But after a time the course of the Sparhawk or the 
 course of the message changed. I drifted to the 
 north. Little by little my course deviated from the 
 line on which I might have met the message. At last 
 I saw that I should never meet it. When I became 
 convinced of this, my first impulse was to spring over 
 board and swim for it. But I restrained this 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 my sake. She must find me 
 on the Sparhawk if she should come back. She had 
 left me and she had come back ; she might come back 
 again. Even to get her message I must not run the 
 risk of missing her. And so with yearning heart and 
 perhaps tearful eyes I watched the little craft disap 
 pear and become another derelict. 
 
 I do not know how many days and nights I watched 
 and waited for Bertha s ship and wondered and con 
 jectured what Mary Phillips meant by " but." I was 
 awake so much and ate so little and thought so hard 
 that I lost strength, both of mind and body. All 
 I asked of my body was to look out for Bertha s 
 steamer, and all that I asked of my mind was to re 
 solve the meaning of the last words I had heard from 
 that vessel. 
 
 One day, I do not know whether it was in the morn 
 ing or afternoon, I raised my head, and on the horizon 
 I saw a steamer. Quick as a flash my glass was 
 brought to bear upon it. In the next minute my arms 
 
DERELICT. Ill 
 
 dropped, the telescope fell into my lap, my head 
 dropped. It was not Bertha s steamer; it was an 
 ordinary steamer with its deck parallel with the water 
 and a long line of smoke coming out of its funnel. 
 The shock of the disappointment was very great. 
 
 When I looked up again I could see that the steamer 
 was headed directly toward me, and was approaching 
 with considerable rapidity. But this fact affected me 
 little. It would not bring me Bertha. It would not 
 bring me any message from her. It was an ordinary 
 vessel of traffic. I took no great interest in it, one 
 way or the other. 
 
 Before long it was so near that I could see people 
 on board. I arose and looked over the rail. Then 
 some one on the steamer fired a gun or a pistol. As 
 this seemed to be a signal, I waved my hat. Then 
 the steamer began to move more slowly, and soon lay 
 to and lowered a boat. 
 
 In ten minutes three men stood on the deck of the 
 Sparkawk. Some one had hailed me in English to 
 lower something. I had lowered nothing; but here 
 they were on deck. They asked me a lot of questions, 
 but I answered none of them. 
 
 " Is your captain with you ? " I said. They an 
 swered 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 much questioning, but to none of it did I pay any 
 attention. I addressed the captain. 
 
112 DERELICT. 
 
 " Sir/ said I, " I will be obliged to you if you will 
 immediately cruise to the southwest and pick up foi 
 me a life-preserver with a little white flag attached to 
 it. It also carries a message for me, wrapped up in a 
 piece of oiled silk. It is very important that I should 
 obtain that message without delay." 
 
 The captain laughed. " Why, man ! " said he, 
 " what are you thinking of ? Do you suppose that 
 I can go out of my course to cruise after a life- 
 preserver ? " 
 
 I looked at him with scorn. " Unmanly fiend ! " 
 said I. 
 
 Another officer now approached, whom I afterward 
 knew to be the ship s doctor. 
 
 "Come, come now," he said, "don t let us have 
 any hard words. The captain is only joking. Of 
 course he will steam after your life-preserver, and no 
 doubt will come up with it very soon. In the mean 
 time you must come below and have something to 
 eat and drink and rest yourself." 
 
 Satisfied with this assurance, I went below, was 
 given food and medicine, and was put into a berth, 
 where I remained for four days in a half-insensible 
 condition, knowing nothing caring for nothing. 
 
 When I came on deck again I was very weak, but I 
 had regained my senses, and the captain and I talked 
 rationally together. I told him how I had come on 
 board the SparhawJc, and how I had fallen in with the 
 La Fidelite, half wrecked, having on board only a dear 
 friend of mine. In answer to his questions I described 
 the details of the communications between the two 
 
DERELICT. 113 
 
 vessels, and could not avoid mentioning the wild hopes 
 and heart-breaking disappointments of that terrible 
 time. And, somewhat to my languid surprise, the 
 captain asked no questions regarding these subjects. 
 I finished by thanking him for having taken me from 
 the wreck, but added that I felt like a false-hearted 
 coward for having deserted upon the sea the woman I 
 loved, who now would never know my fate nor I hers. 
 
 " Don t be too sure of that," said the captain, " for 
 you are about to hear from her now." 
 
 I gazed at him in blank amazement. "Yes," said 
 the captain, " I have seen her, and she has sent me to 
 you. But I see you are all knocked into a heap, and 
 I will make the story as short as I can. This vessel 
 of mine is bound from Liverpool to La Guayra, and 
 on the way down we called at Lisbon. On the morn 
 ing of the day I was to sail from there, there came into 
 port the Glanford, a big English merchantman, from 
 Buenos Ayres to London. I knew her skipper, Cap 
 tain Guy Chesters, as handsome a young English sailor 
 as ever stood upon a deck. 
 
 " In less than an hour from the time we dropped 
 anchor, Captain -Guy was on my vessel. He was on 
 the lookout, he said, for some craft bound for South 
 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 a half -wrecked French 
 steamer, and that they had prayed and besought him 
 to cruise about and look for the SpartiawJc, a helpless 
 ship, with a friend of theirs alone on board. 
 
 "< You know/ said Captain Guy to me, <I couldn t 
 
114 DERELICT. 
 
 do that, for Fd lost time enough already, and the 
 wind was very light and variable ; so all I could do 
 was to vow to the ladies that when we got to Lisbon 
 we d be bound to find a steamer going south, and that 
 she could easily keep a lookout for the Sparhawk, and 
 take off the friend/ That was a pretty big contract 
 you marked out for the steamer going south/ I said, 
 and as for the Sparhawk, she s an old derelict, and 
 I sighted her on my voyage north, and sent in a 
 report of her position, and there couldn t have been 
 anybody on board of her then. Can t say/ said 
 Captain Guy ; i from what I can make out, this fellow 
 must have boarded her a good while after she was 
 abandoned, and seems to have been lying low after 
 that. Was that so, sir ? Did you lie low ? " 
 
 I made no answer. My whole soul was engaged in 
 the comprehension of the fact that Bertha had sent 
 for me. " Go on ! " I cried. 
 
 "All right," said he. "I ought not to keep you 
 waiting. I promised Captain Guy I would keep a 
 lookout for the Sparhawk, and take you off if you 
 were on board. I promised the quicker, because my 
 conscience was growling at me for having, perhaps, 
 passed a fellow-being on an abandoned vessel. But I 
 had heard of the SparhawJc before. I had sighted 
 her, and so didn t keep a very sharp lookout for living 
 beings aboard. Then Captain Guy took me on board 
 his ship to see the two ladies, for they w r anted to give 
 me instructions themselves. And I tell you what, 
 sir, you don t often see two prettier women on board 
 ship, nor anywhere else, for that matter. Captain 
 
DERELICT. 115 
 
 Guy told me that before I saw them. He was in great 
 spirits about his luck. He is the luckiest fellow in 
 the merchant service. Now, if I had picked up two 
 people that way, it would have been two old men. 
 But he gets a couple of lovely ladies ; that s the way 
 the world goes. The ladies made me pretty nigh 
 swear that I d never set foot on shore till I found 
 you. I would have been glad enough to stay there 
 all day and make promises to those women ; but my 
 time was short, and I had to leave them to Captain 
 Guy. So I did keep a lookout for the Sparhawlc, and 
 heard of her from two vessels coming north, and 
 finally fell in with you. And a regular lunatic you 
 were when I took you on board ; but that s not to be 
 wondered 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 some of them." And then he knit 
 his brows and tapped his head, and repeated some 
 very commonplace expressions of encouragement and 
 sympathy. 
 
 The effect of these upon me was very different from 
 what the captain had expected. I had hoped for a 
 note, a line anything direct from Bertha. Tf she 
 had written something which wou]d explain the 
 meaning of those last words from Mary Phillips, 
 whether that explanation were favorable or other 
 wise, I would have been better satisfied ; but now my 
 terrible suspense must continue. 
 
 "Well/ said the captain, "you don t seem cheered 
 
116 DERELICT. 
 
 up much by word from your friends. I was too busy 
 looking at them to rightly catch everything they said, 
 but I know they told me they were going to London 
 in the Glanford. This I remembered, because it 
 struck me what a jolly piece of good luck it all was 
 for Captain Guy." 
 
 " And for what port are you bound ? " I asked. 
 " La Guayra," he said. " It isn t a very good time of 
 the year to be there ; but I don t doubt that you can 
 find some vessel or other there that will take you 
 north, so you re all right." 
 
 I was not all right. Bertha was saved. I was 
 saved ; but I had received no message. I knew noth 
 ing ; and I was going away from her. 
 
 Two or three days after this, the captain came to 
 me and said : (( Look here, 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 t generally look like that. I wonder if you re 
 not a little love-sick on account of a young woman on 
 the Glanford." 
 
 I made no answer ; I would not rebuke him, for he 
 had saved my life; but this 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 you a piece of advice which will do 
 you good if you take it. I think you told me that you 
 are not engaged to this lady," (I nodded) " and that 
 you never proposed to her except through a speaking- 
 trumpet." I allowed silence to make assent. "Well, 
 now, my advice is to give her up, to drop all thoughts 
 
DERELICT. 117 
 
 of her, and to make up your mind to tackle onto some 
 other girl when you find one that is good enough. 
 You haven t the least chance in the world with this 
 one. Captain Guy is mad in love with her. He told 
 me so himself, and when he s out and out in love with 
 a girl he s bound to get her. When I was with him 
 he might have been married once a month if he d 
 chosen to ; but he didn t choose. Now he does choose, 
 and I can tell you that he s not going to make love 
 through 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 s one of the hand 
 somest fellows, and I don t doubt one of the best love- 
 makers that you would be likely to meet on land or 
 sea. And then again, she has every reason to be grate 
 ful to him and to look on him as a hero." 
 
 I listened without a word. The captain s reasoning 
 seemed to me very fallacious. 
 
 "You don t know it," said he, "but Captain Guy 
 did a good deal more than pick up those two women 
 from an abandoned vessel. You see he was making 
 his way north with a pretty fair wind from the south 
 west, the first they d had for several days, and when 
 his lookout sighted La. FidelM nobody on board 
 thought for a minute that he would try to beat 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 he could see something on the 
 wreck that looked like a handkerchief waved by a 
 woman. He told me this himself as we were walking 
 
118 DERELICT. 
 
 from my ship to his. Everybody laughed at him and 
 wanted to know if women waved handkerchiefs differ 
 ent from other people. 
 
 " They said that any bit of canvas might wave like 
 that, and that it was plain 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 Guy 
 paid no attention to this, but spied a little longer; 
 then he vowed that he was going to make for that 
 vessel. There was one of the owners on board, and 
 he up and forbid Captain Guy to do it. He told him 
 that they had been delayed enough on the voyage by 
 light winds, and now that they would be over-due at 
 their port a good many days before they got there. 
 Every day lost, he said, was money lost to the owners. 
 He had never 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 reached it 
 they would find an old derelict, which was no more 
 than they could see 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 he commanded her, and as long as he 
 commanded this vessel or any other, he was not going 
 to pass a wreck when there were good reasons to 
 believe that there was a human being on board of 
 it, and in spite of what anybody said, his eyes told 
 him that there was reason to believe that there was 
 somebody waving on that wreck. So he ordered the 
 ship put about, paying no attention to the cursing and 
 
DERELICT. 119 
 
 swearing of the owner, and beat against a wind that 
 was getting lighter and lighter for over four hours 
 until he reached the French steamer and took off the 
 two ladies. 
 
 "There was nobody on board the Glanford that 
 thinks that Captain Guy will 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 I can t get another ship, I can sail under 
 a skipper. But there s no other girl in the world like 
 this one." 
 
 "And so you see, sir," he continued, "there isn t 
 the least chance in the world for you. Captain Guy s 
 got her on board his ship ; he s with her by sunlight 
 and starlight. He s lost his ship for her and he wants 
 to marry her. And on the other hand, it ll be weeks 
 and weeks and perhaps months before you can see 
 her, or write to her either, as like as 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 will settle. And so you just take my advice, 
 sir, and stop drawing that long face. There are plenty 
 of good girls in the world ; no reason why you shouldn t 
 get one ; but if you are moping for the one that Cap 
 tain Guy s got his heart set on, I m afraid you ll end 
 by being as much out of your head as you were wher 
 I found you." 
 
 To all this I made no answer, but walked gloomily 
 toward the stern and looked down into the foaming 
 wake. I think I heard the captain tell one of the 
 men to keep an eye on me. 
 
120 DERELICT. 
 
 When we reached La Guayra and the voyage 
 seemed to me a never-ending one I immediately set 
 about finding a vessel bound for England. My captain 
 advised me to go up on the mountains and wait until a 
 steamer should sail for New York, which event might 
 be expected in two or three weeks. America would 
 be much better for me, he thought, than would Eng 
 land. But I paid no attention to him, and as there 
 was nothing in port , that would sail for England, I 
 took passage in a Spanish steamer bound for Bar 
 celona. Arriving there, after a passage long enough 
 to give me plenty of time for the consideration of the 
 last two words I heard from Mary Phillips, and of 
 the value of the communications I had received regard 
 ing Captain Guy Chesters, I immediately started by 
 rail for London. On this journey I found that what 
 I had heard concerning the rescue of my Bertha 
 had had a greater effect upon me than I had sup 
 posed. Trains could not go fast enough for me. I 
 was as restless as a maniac ; I may have looked like 
 one. 
 
 Over and over I tried to quiet myself by comforting 
 reflections, saying to myself, for instance, that if the 
 message which Bertha had sent floating on the sea to 
 me had not been a good one, she would not have sent 
 it. Peel as -she might, she could not have been so 
 hard-hearted as to crush the hopes of a man who, like 
 herself, might soon lie in a watery grave. But then, 
 there was that terrible word "but." Looked at in 
 certain lights, what could be more crushing or heart 
 breaking than that ? 
 
DERELICT. 121 
 
 And then again, Mary Phillips may not have under 
 stood what I said to her through the speaking-trumpet. 
 A grim humor of despair suggested that at that dis 
 tance, and in that blustering wind, the faithful maid 
 servant might have thought that instead of shouting 
 that I loved my Bertha, I was asking her if they had 
 plenty of salt pork and hardtack. It was indeed a 
 time of terrible suspense. 
 
 I did not know Bertha s address in England. I 
 knew that she had friends in London and others in the 
 country ; but I was sure that I would find her if she 
 were on the island. I arrived in London very early 
 in the morning, too early to expect to find open any 
 of the banking-houses or other places where Americans 
 would be likely to register. Unable to remain inac 
 tive, 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 it offered an opportunity which I should 
 not neglect. I would certainly learn about Bertha if 
 I saw him, and whether it would be anything good or 
 anything bad I ought to know it. 
 
 In making my inquiries the cabman was of much 
 assistance to me. And after having been referred 
 from one person to another, I at last found a 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 com 
 mand the Glanford now, and as far as I know he hasn t 
 
122 DERELICT. 
 
 signed articles yet either as skipper or mate in any 
 other craft. The fact is, he s engaged in business, 
 which I suppose he thinks 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 trip 
 they took on the Continent. I saw him yesterday: 
 he s the happiest man alive. But it s as like as not 
 that he s ready for business now that he s got through 
 with his honeymoon, and if it s a skipper you re look 
 ing for you can t find a better man than Captain Guy, 
 not about these docks." 
 
 I stood and looked at the man without seeing him, 
 and then in a hollow voice asked : " Where does he 
 live ? " 
 
 "A hundred and nine Lisbury Street, Calistoy Eoad, 
 East. Now that I ve told you, I wish I hadn t. You 
 look as though you were going to measure him 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 due time we arrived in front of a 
 very good-looking house, in a quiet and respectable 
 street. 
 
 I was in a peculiar state of mind. I had half ex 
 pected the terrible shock, and I had received it. But 
 I had not been stunned ; I had been roused to an un 
 usual condition of mental activity. My senses were 
 sharpened by the torment of my soul, and I observed 
 everything, the quarter of the city, the street, the 
 house. 
 
 The woman who opened the door started a little 
 
DERELICT. 123 
 
 when she saw ine. I asked for Mrs. Captain Chesters, 
 and walked in without waiting to be told whether the 
 lady was in or not. The woman showed me into a 
 little parlor, and left me. Her manner plainly indi 
 cated that she suspected something was the matter 
 with me. 
 
 In a very short time a tall, well-made man, with 
 curly brown hair, a handsome, sun-browned face, and 
 that fine presence which command at sea frequently 
 gives, entered the room. 
 
 "I understand, sir," said he, "that you asked for 
 my wife, but I thought it better to come to you my 
 self. What is your business with her, sir, and what 
 is your name ? " 
 
 " My name is Charles Bockwell," I said, " and my 
 business is to see her. If she has already forgotten 
 my name, you can tell her that I kept company with 
 her for a while on the Atlantic Ocea% when she was 
 in one wreck and I was in another." 
 
 " Good heavens ! " cried the young sailor ; " do you 
 mean to say that you are the man who was on the 
 derelict Sparliawk f And were you picked up by 
 Captain Stearns, whom I sent after you ? I supposed 
 he would have written to me about you." 
 
 "I came faster than a letter would come," I an 
 swered. " Can I see her ? " 
 
 " Of course you can ! " cried Captain Guy. "I never 
 knew a man so talked about as you have been since I 
 fell in with the wreck of that French steamer ! By 
 George ! sir, there was a time when I was dead jealous 
 of you. But I m married tight and fast now, and that 
 
124 DERELICT. 
 
 sort of thing is done with. 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 the cap 
 tain. I started back ; I shouted as if I had a speak 
 ing-trumpet to my 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 and folded her in a wild embrace. 
 I heard a burst of nautical oaths, and probably would 
 have been felled by a nautical fist, had not Mary 
 screamed to her husband : 
 
 " Stop, Guy ! " she cried ; " I understand him. It s 
 all right. He s so glad to see me." 
 
 I released her from my embrace, and, staggering 
 back, sank upon a chair. 
 
 " Go get him a glass of sherry, Guy," she said, and 
 wheeling up a great easy-chair, she told me to sit in 
 it, for I looked dreadfully tired. I took 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 to tell you a word about her or 
 anything else until you ve had some breakfast. I 
 know you have not tasted food this day." 
 
 I admitted that I had not. I would eat, I would 
 do anything, so that afterward she would tell me 
 about Bertha. 
 
DERELICT. 125 
 
 When I had a cup of coffee and some toast which 
 Mary brought to me upon a 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 never know her by any other name. 
 
 " Sit down again, Mr. Eockwell, and eat these two 
 eggs. When you have done that I will talk to you 
 about her. You needn t be in a hurry to go to see 
 her, because in the house where she is the people are 
 not up yet." 
 
 "Might as well sit down and eat," said the captain, 
 laughing. "When you re under command of this skip 
 per you will find that her orders are orders, and the 
 quicker you step up and obey them, the better. So I 
 would advise you to eat your eggs." 
 
 I began to do so, and Captain Guy laughed a mighty 
 laugh. " She s a little 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 kept 
 my hands off you when I saw you hugging my wife. 
 But she did it, and I tell you, sir, I was never worse 
 cut up in my whole life than I was when I saw you 
 do that." 
 
 "Sir," said I, looking at him steadfastly, "if I have 
 caused you any pain, any misery, any torment of the 
 soul, any anguish of heart, any agony of jealousy, or 
 mental torture of any kind, I am heartily glad of it, 
 for all of these things you have brought on me." 
 
 " Good ! " cried Mary Phillips ; " you must be feel 
 ing better, sir, and when you have entirely finished 
 breakfast we will go on and talk." 
 
126 DERELICT. 
 
 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 Captain Chesters married Miss Nugent ? " 
 
 "I certainly did," I answered. 
 
 "No doubt, thinking," said Mary, with a smile, 
 "that no man in his senses would marry anybody 
 else when Miss Nugent was about, which was a very 
 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 been one 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 
 you would not be here, and before you say anything 
 more about her, please tell me what you meant by 
 that terrible word ( but. " 
 
 "But ? " repeated Mary Phillips, with a puzzled ex 
 pression. And Captain Guy echoed, " But ? What 
 but?" 
 
 " It was the last word I heard from you," said I ; 
 "you shouted it to me when your vessel was going 
 away for the last time. It has caused me a world of 
 misery. It may have been followed by other words, 
 but I did not catch them. I asked you if you had 
 
DERELICT. 127 
 
 told her that I loved her, and you answered, Yes, 
 but " 
 
 Captain Guy slapped his leg, " By George ! " he 
 said; "that was enough to put 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 tried to answer. I said, Yes, 
 but she knew it before. 7 " 
 
 I sprang to my feet. "What do you mean? " I cried. 
 
 "Of course she knew it," she cried: "we must both 
 have been very stupid if we hadn t known that. We 
 knew it before we left New York ; and, for my part, 
 I wondered why you didn t tell her. But as you 
 never mentioned it, of course it wasn t for us to bring 
 up the subject." 
 
 "Bertha knew I loved her?" I ejaculated. "And 
 what and how what did she say of it? What 
 did she think of it ? " 
 
 "Well," said Mary Phillips, laughing, "I could 
 never see that she doubted it ; I could never see 
 that she objected to it. In fact, from what she said, 
 and, being just us two, of course she had to say a good 
 many things to me, I think she was very glad to find 
 out that you knew it 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 business altogether. This is Mrs. Mary 
 Chesters." 
 
128 DERELICT. 
 
 " Mr. Rockwell will be all right when he gets over 
 this flurry," said Mary to her husband. 
 
 I acknowledged the correction with a nod, for I had 
 no time then for words on the subject. 
 
 "Don t get yourself flustered, sir," said Mary. 
 " You can t go to her yet ; it s too early. You must 
 give the family time to come down and have break 
 fast. I am not going to be party to a scene before 
 breakfast nor 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 inter 
 rupted ; " I know who you re speaking to." 
 
 " Do you believe," I continued, looking steadfastly 
 at her, " that Bertha Nugent loves me ? " 
 
 "I don t know," she said, "that it s exactly my 
 business to give this information, but under the cir 
 cumstances I take it on myself to say that she most 
 certainly does. And I tell you, and you may tell her 
 if you like, that I would not have said this to you if 
 I hadn t believed this thing ought to be clinched the 
 minute there was a chance to do it. It s been hang 
 ing off and on long enough. Love you ? Why, bless 
 my soul, sir, she s been thinking of nothing else for 
 the past two or three days but the coming of the post 
 man, expecting a letter from you, not considering that 
 you didn t know where to address her, or that it was 
 rather scant time for a letter to come from La Guayra, 
 where Captain Stearns would take you if he succeeded 
 in picking you up." 
 
DERELICT. 129 
 
 " The whole affair had a scanty air about it," said 
 Captain Guy. " At least, that s the way I look at it." 
 
 " You ve never said anything like that before," said 
 Mary, rather sharply. 
 
 "Of course not," replied the captain. "I wanted 
 to keep you as merry and cheerful as I could. And 
 besides, I didn t say I had thought there was no 
 chance of Mr. Rockwell s turning up. I only said I 
 considered it a little scantish." 
 
 " Love you ? " continued Mary Phillips ; " I should 
 say so. I should have brought her on deck to wave 
 her handkerchief to you and kiss her hand perhaps, 
 when you blew the state of your feelings through 
 a trumpet ; but she wasn t strong enough. She was 
 a pretty weak woman in body and mind about that 
 time. But from the moment I told her, and she 
 knew that you not only loved her, but were willing 
 to say so, she began to mend. And how she did talk 
 about you, and how she did long that the two ships 
 might come together again ! She kept asking me what 
 I thought about the condition of your vessel and 
 whether it would be like to sink if a storm came on. 
 I could not help thinking that, as far as I knew any 
 thing about ships, you d be likely to float for weeks 
 after we d gone down, but I didn t say that to her. 
 And then she began to wonder if you had understood 
 that she had received your message and was glad to 
 get it. And I told her over and over and over again 
 that you must have heard me, for I screamed my very 
 loudest. I am very glad that I didn t know that you 
 only caught those two words." 
 
130 DERELICT. 
 
 "Dear girl !" I ejaculated. " And did she send me 
 a message on a life-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. I told 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, but 
 she must have said a good deal, for she took a long 
 time about it. I wrapped it up perfectly water-tight. 
 She made the flag herself out of one of her own hand 
 kerchiefs with her initial in the corner. She said she 
 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 lonely ship." 
 
 " Instead of which," observed Captain Guy, " some 
 shark probably swallowed it, and little good it did 
 him." 
 
 "It put a lot of affection and consideration into 
 him," said Mary, a little brusquely, "and there are 
 other creatures connected with the sea who wouldn t 
 be hurt by that sort of thing." 
 
 " There s a shot into me ! " cried the captain. " Don t 
 do it again. I cry quarter ! " 
 
 " 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." 
 
DERELICT. 131 
 
 " But before I go," I said, " tell me this : Why did 
 she not send me some word from Lisbon ? Why did 
 she not give Captain Stearns a line on a piece of paper 
 or some message ? " 
 
 " A line ! a message ! " exclaimed Mary. " She sent 
 you a note ; she sent you a dozen messages by Captain 
 Stearns." 
 
 "And I ll wager a month s pay/ said Captain Guy^ 
 " that he never delivered 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 ; but they were such as these : Keep 
 up a good heart ; everything s bound to be right in 
 the end; the last to get back gets the heartiest wel 
 come. Now, anybody could have sent such words as 
 those." 
 
 " Upon my word," cried Mary Phillips, " those were 
 the messages I sent. I remember particularly the one 
 about the last one back and the heartiest welcome." 
 
 " Confound that Stearns ! " cried Captain Guy ; 
 "what did he mean by giving all his attention to you, 
 and none to the lady that he was sent for to see ? " 
 
 " Good bye, Mrs. Chesters," I said, taking her by the 
 hand. " I can never thank you enough for what you 
 have done for her and for me. But how you could 
 leave her I really do not understand." 
 
 " Well," said Mary, coloring a little, " I can scarcely 
 understand it myself ; but that man would have it so, 
 and he s terribly obstinate. But I don t feel that I ve 
 
132 DERELICT. 
 
 left her. She s in the best of hands, and I see her 
 nearly every day. Here s her address, and when you. 
 meet her, Mr. Eockwell, you ll find that in every way 
 I ve told you truly." 
 
 I took a hearty leave of Captain Guy, shook Mary 
 by the hand once more, rushed down stairs, roused the 
 sleeping cabby, and glancing at the card, ordered him 
 to gallop to 9 Eavisdock 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 moment my eyes fell 
 upon my beloved Bertha I knew that in everything 
 Mary Phillips had told me truly. She came into the 
 room with beaming eyes and 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. For some moments we were speechless 
 with joyful emotion, but there was no need of our 
 saying anything, no need of statements nor explana 
 tions. Mary Phillips had attended to all that. 
 
 When we had cooled down to the point of speech, I 
 was surprised to find that I had been expected, that 
 Bertha knew I was coming. When Mary Phillips had 
 left me that morning to prepare my breakfast, she had 
 sent a message to Bertha, and then she had detained 
 me until she thought it had been received and Bertha 
 was prepared to meet me. 
 
 " I did not want any slips or misses," she said, when 
 she explained the matter to me afterward. " I don t 
 want to say anything about your personal appearance, 
 Mr. Eockwell, but there are plenty of servants in 
 
DERELICT. 133 
 
 London who, if they hadn t had their orders, would 
 shut the door in the face of a much less wild-eyed 
 person than you were, sir, that morning." 
 
 Bertha and I were married in London, and two 
 weeks afterward we returned to America in the new 
 ship Glaucus, commanded by Captain Guy Chesters 
 and his wife. 
 
 Our marriage in England instead of America was 
 largely due to the influence of Mary Phillips, who 
 thought it would be much safer and more prudent for 
 us to be married before we again undertook the risks 
 of a sea- voyage. 
 
 "Nobody knows what may happen on the ocean," 
 she said ; " but if you re once fairly married, that much 
 is accomplished, anyway." 
 
 Our choice of a sailing-vessel in which to make the 
 passage was due in a great part to our desire to keep 
 company as long as possible with Captain Chesters 
 and his wife, to whom we truly believed we owed each 
 other. 
 
 When we reached New York, and Bertha and I were 
 about to start for the Catskill Mountains, where we 
 proposed to spend the rest of the summer, we took 
 leave of Captain Guy and his wife with warmest ex 
 pressions of friendship, 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 without occupation. 
 
134 DERELICT. 
 
 At the moment of parting I drew her aside. " Mary/ 
 I said, "we have had some strange experiences to 
 gether, and I shall never forget them." 
 
 "Nor shall I, sir/ 7 she answered. "Some of them 
 were so harrowing and close-shaved, and such heart 
 breaking disappointments I never had. The worst of 
 all was when you threw that rope clean over our ship 
 without holding on to your end of it. I had been 
 dead sure that, the rope was going to bring us all 
 together." 
 
 " That was a terrible mishap/ I answered ; " what 
 did Bertha think of it?" 
 
 "Bless my soul!" ejaculated Mary Phillips ; "she 
 wasn t on deck, and she never knew anything about it. 
 When I am nursing up a love match I don t mention 
 that sort of thing." 
 
THE BAKER OF BARNBURY. 
 
 A CHRISTMAS STORY. 
 
 IT was three day s % before Christmas, and the baker 
 of the little village of Barnbury sat in the room 
 behind his shop. He was a short and sturdy baker, a 
 good fellow, and ordinarily of a jolly demeanor, but 
 this day he sat grim in his little back room. 
 
 " Christmas, indeed," he said to himself, " and what 
 of Christmas ? Thank you, baker, and a merry 
 Christmas to you/ and every one of them goes away 
 with the present of a raisin-cake, or a horse ginger- 
 cake, if they 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. Christmas day 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 a family dinner. Bake ! baker ! they cry, 
 that we may eat and love each other. Confound 
 them ! I am tired of it. What is Christmas to me ? 
 I have a mind to skip it." 
 
 As he said this, a smile broke out on his face. 
 
 135 
 
136 THE BAKER OF BARN BURY. 
 
 "Skip Christinas," said he; "that is a good idea. 
 They did not think of me last year ; this would make 
 them think of me this year." 
 
 As he said this he opened his order-book and ran 
 his eye over the names. " Here s orders from every 
 one of them," said he, " from the doctor down to 
 Cobbler John. All have families, all give orders. 
 It s pastry, cake, or sweetmeats, or it s meat or fowl 
 to be baked. What a jolly 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 matter with her, I wonder. The 
 only person in Barnbury who has not ordered either 
 pastry, cakes, or sweetmeats ; or fowls or meat to be 
 baked. If I skip Christmas, she ll not mind it, she ll 
 be the only one the only one in all Barnbury. Ha ! 
 ha!" 
 
 The baker wanted some fresh air, and, as this was 
 supper-time for the whole village, he locked up his 
 shop and went out for a walk. The night was clear 
 and frosty. He liked this; the air was so different 
 from that in 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 
 
THE BAKER OF BARNBURY. 137 
 
 little body, bright and cheerful to look upon, and not 
 more than thirty. 
 
 " Good evening, baker," said she ; " will you sit down 
 and have a cup of tea ? " 
 
 The baker put down his hat, unwound his long 
 woollen comforter, took off his overcoat, and had a 
 cup of tea. 
 
 "Now, then," said he to himself, as he put down 
 his cup, "if she d ask me to dinner, I wouldn t skip 
 Christmas, and the whole village might rise 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 shall not have any Christmas this year." 
 
 " How s that ? " cried the baker ; " no Christmas, 
 Widow Monk ? " 
 
 "Not this year, baker/ 9 said she, and she poured 
 him another cup of tea. "You see that horse- 
 blanket ? " said she, pointing to one thrown over a 
 chair. 
 
 "Bless me, Widow Monk," cried the baker, "you re 
 not intending to set up a horse ? " 
 
 "Hardly that," she answered, with a smile, "but 
 that s the very last horse-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 afford them, have sent them to me to be 
 bound with red. That one is nearly finished, and 
 there are no more to be bound." 
 
138 THE BAKER OF BARNBURY. 
 
 "But haven t the Barnbury folks any more work 
 for you?" cried the baker; "haven t they shirts or 
 gowns, or seine other sort of needling ? " 
 
 "Those things they make themselves/ answered 
 the widow ; " but this binding 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 them would hang well in a 
 doorway, if I had the doing of it. And so you can t 
 afford a Christinas, Widow Monk ? " 
 
 "No," said she, setting herself to work on her 
 horse-blanket, " not this year. When I came to Barn- 
 bury, baker, I thought I might do well, but I have 
 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 he walked home snow-drops and 
 tear-drops were all mixed together on his face. 
 
 "I couldn t do this sort of thing before her," he 
 said, " and I am glad it was time to go and open my 
 shop." 
 
 That night the baker did all his regular work, but 
 not a finger did he put to any Christmas order. The 
 next day, at supper-time, he went out for a walk. 
 
 On the way he said to himself, " If she is going to 
 skip Christinas, and I am going to skip Christmas, 
 
THE BAKER OF BARN BURY. 139 
 
 why should we not skip it together? That would 
 truly be most fit and gladsome, and it would serve 
 Barnbury aright. I ll go in and lay it before 
 her." 
 
 The Widow Monk was at supper, and when she 
 asked him to take a cup of tea, he put down his hat, 
 unwound his woollen comforter, and took off his over 
 coat. 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 then he proposed that they 
 should skip it together. 
 
 Now, the Widow Monk forgot to ask him to take a 
 second cup of tea, and she turned as red as the bind 
 ing she had put on the horse-blankets. The baker 
 pushed aside the teacups, leaned over the table, and 
 pressed his suit very hard. 
 
 When the time came for him to open his shop she 
 said that she would think about the matter, and that 
 he .might come again. 
 
 The next day the sun shone golden, the snow shone 
 silvery, and Barnbury was like a paradise to the good 
 baker. For the Widow Monk had told him he might 
 come again, and that was almost the same thing as 
 telling him that he and she would skip Christmas 
 together ! And not a finger, so far, had he put to any 
 Christmas order. 
 
 About noon of that day, he was so happy, was that 
 good baker, that he went into the village inn to have 
 a taste of something hot. In the inn he found a tall 
 man, with rings in his ears. A sun-browned man he 
 was and a stranger, who had just arrived and wanted 
 
140 THE BAKER OF BARNBURY. 
 
 his dinner. He was also a handsome man, and a 
 sailor, as any one could see. 
 
 As the baker entered, the tail 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 the cold, bleak world. As he closed 
 the door behind him he heard the stranger say : 
 
 " On the brig Mistletoe." 
 
 It was not needed that the baker should hear these 
 words; already he knew everything. His soul had 
 told him everything in the moment he saw the sun- 
 browned man with the rings in his ears ! 
 
 On went the baker, his head bowed on his breast, 
 the sun shining like tawdry brass, the snow glistening 
 like a slimy, evil thing. He knew not where 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 keep you waiting in the cold," and 
 she held open the door for him. 
 
 When he had entered, and had seated himself be 
 fore the fire, she said to him : 
 
 " Truly, you look chilled ; you need something hot " ; 
 and she prepared it for him. 
 
THE BAKER OF BARNBURY. 141 
 
 The baker took the hot beverage. This much of 
 good he might at least allow himself. He drank it, 
 and he felt warmed. 
 
 "And now," said the Widow Monk, seating her 
 self on the other side of the 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 ever since, and have made up my mind. You are 
 alone in the world, and I am alone ; and if you don t 
 wish to be alone any longer, why, I don t wish to be 
 either, and so perhaps it will not be necessary 
 to skip Christmas 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 he could not 
 but be grateful for the widow s words. There flashed 
 into his eyes a sudden brightness. He held out his 
 hands. He would thank her first, and tell her after 
 wards. 
 
 The widow took his hands, lowered her bright eyes 
 and blushed. Then she suddenly withdrew herself 
 and stood up. 
 
 " Now," she said, with a pretty smile, " let me do 
 the talking. Don t look so downcast. When I tell 
 you that you have made me very, very happy, you 
 should look happy too. When you came to me yester 
 day, and said what you said, I thought you were in 
 too much of a hurry ; but now I think that perhaps 
 you were right, and that when people of our age have 
 anything important to do it is well to do it at once ; 
 for in this world there are all sorts of things con- 
 
142 THE BAKER OF BARNBUR?. 
 
 tinually springing up to prevent people from being 
 happy." 
 
 The whole body of the baker was filled with a great 
 groan, but he denied it utterance. He must hear 
 what she would say. 
 
 "And so I was going to suggest/ she continued, 
 " that instead of skipping Christmas together, we 
 keep it together. That is all the change I propose to 
 your plan." 
 
 Up sprang the baker, so suddenly, that he overset 
 his chair. Now he must speak. The widow stepped 
 quickly toward the door, and, turning with a smile, 
 held up her hand. 
 
 " Now, good friend," said she, " stop there ! At 
 any moment some one might come in. Hasten back 
 to your shop. At three o clock I will meet you at the 
 parson s. That will surely be soon enough, even for 
 such a hasty man as you." 
 
 The baker came forward, and gasped, "Your hus 
 band ! " 
 
 " Not yet," said the widow, with a laugh, and, kiss 
 ing the tips of her fingers to him, she closed the door 
 behind her. 
 
 Out into the cold went the baker. His head was 
 dazed, but he walked steadfastly to his shop. There 
 was no need for him to go anywhere ; to tell anybody 
 anything. The man with the earrings would settle 
 matters for himself soon enough. 
 
 The baker put up his shutters and locked his shop 
 door. He would do nothing more for the good of 
 trade ; nothing more for the good of anything. Skip 
 
THE BAKER OF BARNBURY. 143 
 
 Christinas ! Indeed would he ! And, moreover, every 
 holiday and every happy day would now be skipped 
 straight on for the rest of his life. He put his house 
 in order ; he arranged his affairs ; he attired himself 
 in his best apparel ; locked his door behind him ; and 
 went out into the cold world. 
 
 He longed now to get far away from the village. 
 Before the sun set there 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 good old 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 meet him. 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 the couple standing together, and the 
 widow took the baker s hand. Then the parson be 
 gan the little speech he always made on such occa 
 sions. It was full of good sense and very touching, 
 and the widow s eyes were dim with tears. The baker 
 would have spoken, but he had never interrupted a 
 clergyman, and he could not do it now. 
 
 Then the parson began his appointed work, and the 
 heart of the baker swelled, as the widow s hand 
 trembled in his own. 
 
144 THE BAKER OF BARNBURY. 
 
 "Wilt thou have this woman to be thy wedded 
 wife ? " asked the parson. 
 
 "Now for this/ 7 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 s blessing ; and, immediately, 
 his fair companion, brimming with tears, threw her 
 self into his arms. 
 
 " Now," said the baker to himself, " when I leave 
 this house, may the devil take me, and right welcome 
 shall he be ! " 
 
 "Dearest," she exclaimed, as she looked into his 
 face, " you cannot know how happy I am. My wed 
 ding day, and my brother back from the cruel seas ! " 
 
 Struck by a sudden blast of bewildering ecstasy, 
 the baker raised his eyes, and beheld the tall form of 
 the sun-browned stranger who had been standing 
 behind them. 
 
 "You are not a sailor-man," quoth the jovial brother, 
 " like my old mate, who went down in the brig Mistle 
 toe, but my sister tells me you are a jolly good fellow, 
 and I wish you fair winds and paying cargoes." And 
 after giving the baker a powerful handshake, the 
 sailor kissed the bride, the parson s wife, the parson s 
 daughter, and the parson s maid, and wished the 
 family were larger, having just returned from the 
 cruel seas. 
 
 The only people in the village of Barnbury, who 
 thoroughly enjoyed the Christmas of that year, were 
 the baker, his wife, and the sailor brother And a 
 
THE BAKER OF BARNBURY. 145 
 
 rare good time they had; for a big sea-chest arrived, 
 and there were curious presents, and a tall flask of 
 rare old wine, and plenty of time for three merry peo 
 ple 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 all the same ? " 
 
 " Oh, that will be skipped/ she said, with a laugh ; 
 " and now go you and make ready for the cakes, pas 
 try, and sweetmeats, the baked meats and the poultry, 
 with which the people of Barnbury are to be made 
 right happy on New Year s day." 
 
THE WATEE-DEVIL. 
 
 A MARINE TALE. 
 
 the village of Kiprock there was neither tavern 
 J- nor inn, for it was but a small place through which 
 few travellers passed ; but it could not be said to be 
 without a place of entertainment, for if by chance a 
 stranger or two or three of them, for that matter 
 wished to stop at Riprock for a meal, or to pass the 
 night, there was the house of blacksmith Fryker, 
 which was understood to be always open to decent 
 travellers. 
 
 The blacksmith was a prominent man in the village, 
 and his house was a large one, with several spare bed 
 rooms, arid it was said by those who had had an oppor 
 tunity of judging, that nobody in the village lived 
 better than blacksmith Fryker and his family. 
 
 Into the village there came, late one autumn after 
 noon, a tall man, who was travelling on foot, with a 
 small valise hanging from his shoulder. He had in 
 quired for lodging for the night, had been directed to 
 the blacksmith s house, had arranged to stop there, 
 had had his supper, which greatly satisfied him, and 
 was now sitting before the fire in the large living- 
 room, smoking blacksmith Fryker s biggest pipe. 
 146 
 
THE WATER-DEVIL. 147 
 
 This stranger was a red-haired man, with a cheery 
 expression, and a pair of quick, bright eyes. He was 
 slenderly but strongly built, and was a good fellow, 
 who would stand by, with his hands in the pockets of 
 his short pea-jacket, and right willingly tell one who 
 was doing something how the thing ought to be done. 
 But the traveller did not sit alone before the crack 
 ling fire of logs, for the night being cool, a table was 
 drawn near to one side of the fire-place, and by this 
 sat Mistress Fryker and her daughter Joanna, both 
 engaged in some sort of needle-work. The blacksmith 
 sat between the corner of the fire-place and this table, 
 so that when he had finished smoking his after-supper 
 pipe, he might put on his spectacles and* read the 
 weekly paper by the light of the big lamp. On the 
 other side of the stranger, whose chair was in front of 
 the middle of the fire-place, sat the school-master, 
 Andrew Cardly by name ; a middle-aged man of sober 
 and attentive aspect, and very glad when chance 
 threw in his way a book he had not read, or a stranger 
 who could reinforce his stock of information. At the 
 other corner of the fire-place, in a cushioned chair, 
 which was -always given to him when he dropped in 
 to spend an evening with the blacksmith, sat Mr. Har- 
 berry, an elderly man, a man of substance, and a man 
 in whom all Riprock, not excluding himself, placed 
 unqualified confidence as to his veracity, his financial 
 soundness, and his deep insight into the causes, the 
 influences, and the final issue of events and conditions. 
 " On a night like this," said the stranger, stretching 
 his long legs toward the blaze, "there is nothing I 
 
148 THE WATER-DEVIL. 
 
 like better than a fire of wood, except indeed it be 
 the society of ladies who do not object to a little 
 tobacco smoke/ and he glanced with a smile toward 
 the table with a lamp upon it. 
 
 Now blacksmith Fryker was a prudent man, and he 
 did not consider that the privileges of his hearthstone 
 always freely granted to a decent stranger in 
 cluded an acquaintance with his pretty daughter ; and 
 so, without allowing his women-folk a chance to enter 
 into the conversation, he offered the stranger a differ 
 ent subject to hammer upon. 
 
 " In the lower country," said he, " they don t need 
 fires as early in the season as we do. What calling 
 do you follow, sir ? Some kind of trade, perhaps ? " 
 
 " No," said the traveller, " I follow no trade ; I fol 
 low the sea." 
 
 At this the three men looked at him, as also the 
 two women. His appearance no more suggested that 
 he was a seaman than the appearance of Mr. Har- 
 berry suggested that he was what the village of Rip- 
 rock believed him to be. 
 
 " I should not have taken you for a sailor," said the 
 blacksmith. 
 
 " I am not a sailor," said the other ; " I am a soldier ; 
 a sea-soldier in fact, a marine." 
 
 "I should say, sir," remarked the school-master, in 
 a manner intended rather to draw out information 
 than to give it, "that the position of a soldier on a 
 ship possessed advantages over that of a soldier on 
 land. The former is not required to make long 
 marches, nor to carry heavy baggage. He remains 
 
THE WATER-DEVIL. 149 
 
 at rest, in fact, while traversing great distances. 
 
 is he called on to resist the charges of cavalry, nor to 
 
 form hollow squares on the deadly battle-field." 
 
 The stranger smiled. "We often find it hard 
 enough," said he, " to resist the charges made against 
 us by our officers ; the hollow squares form them 
 selves in our stomachs when we are on short rations ; 
 and I have 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 is nothing to be said against the endur 
 ance and the courage of marines. We all remember 
 how they presented arms, and went down with the 
 Royal George" 
 
 The marine smiled. 
 
 "I suppose," said the blacksmith, "that you never 
 had to do anything of that sort ? " 
 
 The stranger did not immediately answer, but sat 
 looking into the fire. Presently he said: "I have 
 done things of nearly every sort, although not exactly 
 that ; but I have thought my ship was going down 
 with all on board, 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 can remember." 
 
 " I am sure," said the school-master, " that we should 
 all like to hear some of your experiences." 
 
 The marine shrugged his shoulders. "These 
 
150 THE WATER-DEVIL. 
 
 things/ 7 said he, " coine to a man, and then if he lives 
 through them, they pass on, and he is ready for the 
 next streak of luck, good or bad. That s the way 
 with us followers of the sea, especially if we happen 
 to be marines, and have to bear, so to speak, the 
 responsibility of two professions. But sometimes a 
 mischance or a disaster does fix itself upon a man s 
 mind so that he can tell about it if he is called upon ; 
 and just now there comes to my mind a very odd thing 
 which once happened to me, and I can give you the 
 points of that, if you like." 
 
 The three men assured him that they would very 
 much like it, and the two women looked as if they 
 were of the same opinion. 
 
 Before he began the marine glanced about him, with 
 a certain good-natured wistfulness which might have 
 indicated, to those who understood the countenances 
 of the sea-going classes, a desire to wet his whistle ; 
 but if this expression were so intended it was thrown 
 away, for blacksmith Fryker took no spirits himself, 
 nor furnished them to anybody else. Giving up all 
 hope in this direction, the marine took a long pull at 
 his pipe and began. 
 
 "It was in the winter of 1878 that I was on the 
 Bay of Bengal, on my way to Calcutta, and about five 
 hundred miles distant from that city. I was not on 
 my own ship, but was returning from a leave of ab 
 sence on an American steamer from San Francisco to 
 Calcutta, where my vessel, the United States frigate 
 ApacJiCj was then lying. My leave of absence would 
 expire in three days ; but although the General Brooks. 
 
THE WATER-DEVIL. 151 
 
 the vessel 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, two days before, 
 something had not happened to the machinery. I am 
 not a machinist myself, and don t know exactly what 
 it was that was out of order, but the engine stopped, 
 and we had to proceed under sail. That sounds like 
 a slow business; but the Brooks was a clipper-built 
 vessel with three masts and a lot of sails square 
 sails, fore-and-aft sails, jib sails, and all that sort of 
 thing. I am not a regular sailor myself, and don t 
 know the names of all the sails ; but whatever sails 
 she could have she did have, and although she was an 
 iron vessel, and heavily freighted, she was a good 
 sailer. We had a strong, steady wind from the south, 
 and the captain told me that at the rate we were going 
 he didn t doubt that he would get me aboard my ves 
 sel before my leave ran out, or at least so soon after 
 ward that it wouldn t make any difference. 
 
 "Well, as I said, the wind blew strong and steady 
 behind us, the sails were full, and the spray dashed 
 up at our bow in a way calculated to tickle the soul of 
 any one anxious to get to the end of his voyage 5 and I 
 was one of that sort, I can tell you. 
 
 "In the .afternoon of the second day after our 
 engine stopped, I was standing at the bow, and look 
 ing over, when suddenly I noticed that there wasn t 
 any spray dashing up in front of the vessel. I 
 thought we must have struck a sudden calm, but, 
 glancing up, I saw the sails were full, and the wind 
 blew fair in my face as I turned toward the stern. I 
 
152 THE WATER-DEVIL. 
 
 walked aft to the skipper, and touching my cap, 1 
 said, Captain, how is it that when a ship is dashing 
 along at this rate she doesn t throw up any spray with 
 her cutwater ? He grinned a little, and said, But 
 she does, you know/ <If you will come forward/ 
 said I, I ll show you that she doesn t/ and then we 
 walked forward, and I showed him that she didn t. 
 I never saw a man so surprised. At first he thought 
 that somebody had been squirting oil in front, but 
 even if that had been the case, there would have been 
 some sort of a ripple on each side of the bow, and 
 there wasn t anything of the kind. The skipper took 
 off his cap 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 her daughter, "is a little piece of wood 
 with a long line to it, that they throw out behind a 
 vessel to see how fast she is going. I am not a 
 regular Jack Tar myself, and don t understand the 
 principle of the thing, but it tells you exactly how 
 many miles an hour the ship is going. 
 
 "In about two minutes Mr. Eogers stepped up, 
 with his eyes like two auger-holes, and said he, Cap 
 tain, we re makin no knots an hour. We re not sail 
 ing at all. 
 
 " Get out/ roared the captain, e don t you see the 
 sails ? Don t you feel the wind ? Throw that log 
 again, sir. 
 
 " Well, they threw the log again, the captain saw 
 it done, and sure enough Mr. Eogers was right. The 
 vessel wasn t moving. With a wind that ought to 
 
THE WATER-DEVIL. 153 
 
 have carried her spinning along, miles and miles in 
 an hour, she was standing stock-still. The skipper 
 here let out one of the strongest imprecations used in 
 navigation, and said he, <Mr. Rogers, is it possible 
 that there is a sand-bar in the middle of the Bay of 
 Bengal, and that we ve stuck on it ? Cast the lead. 
 
 "I will just state to the ladies," said the marine, 
 turning toward the table, " that the lead is a heavy 
 weight that is lowered to the bottom of a body of 
 water to see how deep it is, and this operation is called 
 sounding. Well, they sounded and they sounded, but 
 everywhere fore, aft, and midship they found 
 plenty of water ; in fact, not having a line for deep- 
 sea sounding they couldn t touch bottom at all. 
 
 "I can tell you, ladies and gentlemen," said the 
 marine, looking from one to the other of the party, 
 "that things now began to feel creepy. I am. not 
 afraid of storms, nor fires at sea, nor any of the 
 common accidents of the ocean; but for a ship to 
 stand still with plenty of water under her, and a 
 strong wind filling her sails, has more of the uncanny 
 about it than I fancy. Pretty near the whole of the 
 crew was on deck 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 setting against us, and forcing the vessel 
 back with the same power that the wind was forcing 
 her forward, and he tried to put the ship about so as 
 to have the wind on her starboard quarter ; but as she 
 hadn t any headway, or for some other reason, this 
 
154 THE WATER-DEVIL. 
 
 didn t work. Then it struck him that perhaps one 
 of the anchors had been accidentally dropped, but they 
 were all in their places, and if one of them had 
 dropped, its cable would not have been long enough 
 to touch bottom. 
 
 "Now I could see that he began to look scared. 
 6 Mr. Browser/ said he, to the chief engineer, for some 
 reason or other this ship does not make headway 
 under sail. You must go to work and get the engine 
 running. And for the rest of that day everybody on 
 board who understood that sort of thing was down 
 below, hard at work with the machinery, hammering 
 and banging like good fellows. 
 
 " The chief officer ordered a good many of the sails 
 to be taken in, for they were only uselessly straining 
 the masts, but there were enough left to move her in 
 case the power of the current, or whatever it was that 
 stopped her, had slackened, and she steadily kept her 
 position with the breeze abaft. 
 
 "All the crew, who were not working below, were 
 crowded together on deck, talking about this strange 
 thing. I joined them, and soon found that they 
 thought it was useless to waste time and labor on the 
 machinery. 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 American vessels that 
 sail from our ports, nearly all the officers and crew 
 were foreigners. The captain was a Finlander, who 
 
THE WATER-DEVIL. 155 
 
 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 the United States when he was twenty years 
 old, stayed there five years, which didn t count 
 either way, and had now been naturalized for twenty 
 years. 
 
 "The consequence of this variety in nationality 
 was that the nien had all sorts of ideas and notions 
 regarding the thing that was happening. They had 
 thrown over chips and bits of paper to see if the ves 
 sel had begun to move, and had found that she didn t 
 budge an inch, and now they seemed afraid to look 
 over the sides. 
 
 "They were a superstitious lot, as might be ex 
 pected, and they all believed that, in some way or other, 
 the ship was bewitched ; and in fact I felt like agree 
 ing 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 everything the others had to say, 
 he shuffled himself into the middle of the group. 
 Look here, mates/ said he, in good enough English, 
 ( it s no use talking no more about this. I know what s 
 the matter ; I ve sailed these seas afore, and I ve been 
 along the coast of this bay all the way from Negapa- 
 tam to Jellasore on the west coast, and from Chitta- 
 gong to Kraw on the other ; and I have heard stories 
 of the strange things that are in this Bay of Bengal, 
 and what they do, and the worst of them all is the 
 Water-devil and he s got us ! ? 
 
156 THE WATER-DEVIL. 
 
 "When the old rascal said this, there wasn t a man 
 on deck who didn t look pale, in spite of his dirt and 
 his sunburn. The chief officer tried to keep his knees 
 stiff, but I could see him shaking. What s a Water- 
 devil ? said he, trying to make believe he thought it 
 all stuff and nonsense. The Portuguese touched his 
 forelock. Do you remember, sir/ said he, what was 
 the latitude and longitude when you took your obser 
 vation to-day ? Yes, said the other, it was 15 
 north and 90 east. The Portuguese nodded his 
 head. e That s just about the spot, sir, just about. I 
 can t say exactly where the spot is, but it s just about 
 here, and we ve struck it. There isn t a native sea 
 man on any of these coasts that would sail over that 
 point if he knowed it and could help 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 he said this, but nobody 
 asked any questions, and he went on. This here 
 Water-devil, said he, is about as big as six whales, 
 and in shape very like an oyster without its shell, and 
 he fastens himself to the rocks at the bottom with 
 a million claws. Eight out of the middle of him 
 there grows up a long arm that reaches to the top 
 of the water, and at the end of this arm is a fist 
 about the size of a yawl-boat, with fifty-two fingers to 
 it, with each one of them covered with little suckers 
 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 him whether it s 
 
THE WATER-DEVIL. 157 
 
 a shark, or a porpoise, or a shipful of people, and 
 when he takes a grab of anything, that thing never 
 gets away/ 
 
 "About this time there were five or six men on 
 their knees saying their prayers, such as they were, 
 and a good many others looked as if they were just 
 about to drop. 
 
 " Now, when this Water-devil gets hold of a ship/ 
 the old fellow went on, <he don t generally pull her 
 straight down to the bottom, but holds on to it till he 
 counts his claws, and sees that they are all fastened 
 to the rocks ; for if a good many of them wasn t fast 
 ened he might pull himself loose, instead of pulling 
 the ship down, and then he d be a goner, for he d be 
 towed away, and like as not put in a museum. But 
 when he is satisfied that he is moored fast and strong, 
 then he hauls on his arm, and down comes the ship, 
 no matter how big she is. As the ship 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 into a sort of funnel, which is his mouth. 
 
 " e Does he count fast ? asked one of the men, this 
 being the first question that had been asked. 
 
 " I ve heard, said the Portuguese, that he s a 
 rapid calculator, and the minute he s got to his mil 
 lionth claw, and finds it s hooked tight and fast, he 
 begins to haul down the ship. 
 
 At this point the marine stopped and glanced 
 around at the little group. The blacksmith s wife 
 and daughter had put down their work, and were 
 gazing at him with an air of horrified curiosity. The 
 
158 THE WATER-DEVIL. 
 
 blacksmith held his pipe in his hand, and regarded 
 the narrator with the steadiness and impassiveness of 
 an anvil. The school-master was listening with the 
 greatest eagerness. He was an enthusiast on Natural 
 History and Mythology, and had written an article 
 for a weekly paper on the reconciliation of the beasts 
 of tradition with the fanna of to-day. Mr. Harberry 
 was not looking at the marine. His eyes were fixed 
 upon the 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 that there are many strange creatures, 
 especially in the sea, of which scientists are compara 
 tively ignorant." 
 
 " Such as the sea-serpent," added the marine, quickly, 
 "and a great many other monsters who are not in the 
 books, but who have a good time at the bottom of the 
 sea, all the same. Well, to go on with my story, you 
 must understand that, though this Portuguese spoke 
 broken English, which. I haven t tried to give you, he 
 made himself perfectly plain to all of us, and I can 
 assure you that when he got through talking there 
 was a shaky lot of men on that deck. 
 
 " The chief officer said he would go below and see 
 how the captain was getting on, and the crew huddled 
 together in the bow, and began whispering among 
 themselves, as if they were afraid the Water-devil 
 would hear them. I turned to walk aft, feeling pretty 
 queer, I can tell you, when I saw Miss Minturn just 
 coming up from the cabin below. 
 
THE WATER-DEVIL. 159 
 
 "I haven t said anything about Miss Minturn, but 
 she and her father, who was an elderly English gentle 
 man and an invalid, who had never left his berth 
 since we took him up at Singapore, were our only 
 passengers, except, of course, myself. She was a 
 beautiful girl, with soft blue eyes and golden hair, 
 and a little pale from constantly staying below to 
 nurse her father. 
 
 "Of course I had had little or nothing to say to 
 her, for her father was a good deal of a swell and I 
 was only a marine ; but now she saw me standing 
 there by myself, and she came right up to me. Can 
 you tell me, sir/ she said, if anything else has hap 
 pened ? They are making a great din in the engine- 
 room. I have been looking out of our port, and the 
 vessel seems to me to be stationary. She stopped at 
 that, and waited to hear what I had to say, but I 
 assure you I would have liked to have had her go on 
 talking for half an hour. Her voice was rich and 
 sweet, 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 I meet any of 
 them for the first time, I generally give them the 
 credit of talking in soft and musical notes, even 
 though I ha.ve not had the pleasure of hearing them 
 speak." 
 
 " Look here/ said the blacksmith, " can t you skip 
 the girl and get back to the Devil ? " 
 
 "]STo," 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." 
 
160 THE WATER-DEVIL. 
 
 "You don t mean to say," exclaimed Mrs. Fryker, 
 speaking for the first time, and by no means in soft 
 and musical tones, " that he swallowed her ? " 
 
 " I ll go on with the story," said the marine ; " that s 
 the best way, and everything will come up in its place. 
 Now, of course, I wasn t going to tell this charming 
 young woman, with a sick father, anything about the 
 Water-devil, though what reason to give her for our 
 standing still here I couldn t imagine; but of course 
 I had to speak, and I said, Don t be alarmed, miss, we 
 have met with an unavoidable detention ; that sort of 
 thing often happens in navigation. I can t explain it 
 to you, but you see the ship is perfectly safe and 
 sound, and she is merely under sail instead of having 
 her engines going. 
 
 "<I understood about that/ said she, and father 
 and I were both perfectly satisfied ; for he said that 
 if we had a good breeze we would not be long in reach 
 ing Calcutta ; but we seem to have a breeze, and yet 
 we don t go. You ll notice, said I, ( that the sails 
 are not all set, and for some reason the wind does not 
 serve. When the engines are mended, we shall prob 
 ably go spinning along. She looked as if she was 
 trying to appear satisfied. Thank you, sir/ she said. 
 <I hope we may shortly proceed on our way, but in 
 the meantime I shall not say anything to my father 
 about this detention. I think he has not noticed it. 
 That would be very wise/ I replied, and as she turned 
 toward the companionway I was wild to say to her 
 that it would be a lot better for her to stay on deck, 
 and get some good fresh air, instead of cooping her- 
 
THE WATER-DEVIL. 161 
 
 self up in that close cabin ; but I didn t know her 
 well enough for that." 
 
 "Now that you are through with the girl," said the 
 blacksmith, "what did the Devil do ? " 
 
 " I haven t got to him yet/ said the marine, " but 
 after Miss Minturn went below I began to think of 
 him, and the more I thought of him, the less I liked 
 him. I think the chief officer must have told the 
 men below about the Water-devil, for pretty soon the 
 whole kit and boodle of them left their work and 
 came on deck, skipper and all. They told me they 
 had given up the engine as a bad job, and I thought 
 to myself that most likely they were all too nervous 
 to rightly know what they were about. The captain 
 threw out the log again, but it floated alongside like 
 a cork on a fishing-line, and at this he turned pale 
 and walked away from the ship s side, forgetting to 
 pull it in again. 
 
 " It was now beginning to grow dark, and as nobody 
 seemed to think about supper, I went below to look 
 into that. matter. It wouldn t do for Miss Minturn 
 and her father to go without their regular meal, for 
 that would be sure to scare them to death; and if I m 
 to have a big scare I like 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 galley superintending supper for her people, 
 and after she got through I superintended some for 
 myself. 
 
 "After that I felt a good deal bolder, and I lighted 
 
162 THE WATER-DEVIL. 
 
 a pipe and went on deck. There I found the whole 
 ship s company, officers and crew, none of them doing 
 anything, and most of them clustered together in little 
 groups, 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; Fve done everything that I can do. 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 the sight wasn t cheerful. There was the 
 ship, just as good and sound, as far as anybody could 
 see, as anything that floated on the ocean, and here 
 were all her people, shivering and shaking and not 
 speaking above their breath, looking for all the world, 
 under the light of the stars and 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 to walk the plank; and, to tell the truth, 
 what they were afraid of would come to pretty much 
 the same thing." 
 
 "Mr. Cardly," here interrupted Mr. Harberry, 
 "how long does it take to count a million ? " 
 
 "That depends," said the school-master, "on the 
 rapidity of the calculator; some calculators count 
 faster than others. An ordinary boy, counting two 
 hundred a miriute, would require nearly three days 
 and a half 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 dif- 
 
THE WATER-DEVIL. 163 
 
 ference between a boy and a Water-devil, and it is im 
 possible for anybody to know how fast the latter can 
 count, especially as he may be supposed to be used to 
 it. Well, I couldn t stand it any longer on deck, and 
 having nothing else to do, I turned in and went to 
 sleep." 
 
 " To sleep ! Went to sleep ! " exclaimed Mrs. Fry- 
 ker. " I don t see how you could have done that." 
 
 "Ah, madam," said the marine, "we soldiers of the 
 sea are exposed to all sorts of dangers, combination 
 dangers, you might call them, and in the course of 
 time we get used to it; if we didn t we couldn t do 
 our duty. 
 
 "As the ship had been in its present predicament 
 for six or seven hours, and nothing had happened, 
 there was no reason to suppose that things would not 
 remain as they were for six or seven hours more, in 
 which time I might get a good sleep, and be better 
 prepared for what might come. There s nothing like a 
 good meal and a good sleep as a preparation for danger. 
 
 " It was daylight when I awakened, and rapidly 
 glancing about me, I saw that 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, no one at the wheel, no one 
 anywhere. I ran down into the fo castle, which is 
 the sailors quarters, but not a soul could I see. I 
 called, I whistled, I searched everywhere, but no one 
 answered ; I could find no one. Then I dashed up on 
 deck, and glared around me. Every boat was gone. 
 
164 THE WATER-DEVIL. 
 
 " Now I knew what had happened : the cowardly 
 rascals, from captain to cook, had deserted the ship in 
 the night, and I had been left behind ! 
 
 " For some minutes I stood motionless, wondering 
 how men could be so unfeeling as to do such a thing. 
 I soon became convinced, from what I had seen of the 
 crew, that they had not all gone off together, that 
 there had been no concerted action. A number of 
 them had probably quietly lowered a boat and sneaked 
 away; then another lot had gone off, hoping their 
 mates would not hear them and therefore crowd into 
 their boat. And so they had all departed, not one 
 boat-load thinking of anybody but themselves ; or if 
 they thought at all about others, quieting their con 
 sciences by supposing that there were enough boats 
 on the vessel, and that the other people were as likely 
 to get off as they 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 steps when 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 nobody in the kitchen, and I 
 want some gruel/ My good woman/ said I, who 
 do you want it for ? Who ! she replied ; why, for 
 Mr. Minturn, of course ; 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 galley and make it yourself ; and then in 
 
THE WATER-DEVIL. 165 
 
 a low tone I told her what had happened, for I knew 
 that it would be much better for me to do this than 
 for her to find it out for herself. Without a word she 
 sat right down on the floor, and covered her head with 
 her apron. Now don t make a row/ said I, and 
 frighten your master and mistress to death ; we re all 
 right so far, and all you ve got to do is to take care of 
 Mr. and Miss Minturn, and cook their meals. The 
 steamer is tight and sound, and it can t be long be 
 fore some sort of a craft will come by and take us off. 
 I left her sniffling with her apron over her head, but 
 when I came back, ten minutes afterward, she was in 
 the galley making gruel. 
 
 " I don t think you will be surprised, my friends," 
 continued the marine, "when I tell you that I now 
 found myself in a terrible state of mind. Of course I 
 hadn t felt very jovial since the steamer had been so 
 wonderfully stopped; but when the captain and all 
 the crew were aboard, I had that sort of confidence 
 which comes from believing that when there are peo 
 ple about whose duty it is to do things, when the time 
 comes to do the things, they will do them ; but now, 
 practically speaking, there was nobody but me. The 
 others on board were not to be counted, except as en 
 cumbrances. In truth, I was alone, alone with the 
 Water-devil ! 
 
 " The moment I found no one to depend upon but 
 myself, and that I was deserted in the midst of this 
 lonely mass of water, in that moment did my belief 
 in the Water-devil begin to grow. When I first heard 
 of the creature, I didn t consider that it was my busi- 
 
166 THE WATER-DEVIL. 
 
 ness either to believe in it, or not to believe in it, and 
 I could let the whole thing drop out of my mind, if 
 I chose; but now it was a different matter. I was 
 bound to think for myself, and the more I thought, 
 the more I believed in the Water-devil. 
 
 " The fact was, there wasn t anything else to believe 
 in. I had gone over the whole question, and the skip 
 per had gone all over it, and everybody else had gone 
 all over it, and no one could think of anything but a 
 Water-devil that could stop a steamer in this way in 
 the middle of the Bay of Bengal, and hold her there 
 hour after hour, in spite of wind and wave and tide. 
 It could not be anything but the monster the Portu 
 guese had told us of, and all I now could do was to 
 wonder whether, when he was done counting his mil 
 lion claws, he would be able to pull down a vessel of 
 a thousand tons, for that was about the size of the 
 General Brooks. 
 
 "I think I should no\v have begun to lose my wits 
 if it had not been for one thing, and that was the 
 coming of Miss Minturn on deck. The moment I saw 
 her lovely face I stiffened up wonderfully. Sir/ said 
 she, I would like to see the captain. I am repre 
 senting the captain, miss/ I said, with a bow ; what 
 is it that I can do for you ? I want to speak to him 
 about the steward/ she said; I think he is neglect 
 ing his duty. <I also represent the steward/ I 
 replied ; tell me what you wish of him. She made 
 no answer to this, but looked about her in a startled 
 way. Where are all the men? she said. Miss 
 Minturn/ said I, I represent the crew in fact, I 
 
THE WATER-DEVIL. 167 
 
 represent the whole ship s company except the cook, 
 and his place must be taken by your maid. What 
 do you mean? she asked, looking at me with her 
 wide-opened, beautiful eyes. 
 
 " Then, as there was no help for it, I told her every 
 thing, except that I did not mention the Water-devil 
 in connection with our marvellous stoppage. I only 
 said that that was caused by something which nobody 
 understood. 
 
 " 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 shake as she 
 asked me what was to be done. There is nothing to 
 be done/ I answered, but to keep up good hearts, eat 
 three meals a day, and wait until 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 went below. 
 
 " Now, strange to say, I walked up and down the 
 deck with my hat cocked on one side and my hands 
 in my pockets, feeling a great deal better. I did not 
 like Water-devils any more than I did before, and I 
 did not believe in this one any less than I did before, 
 but, after all, there was some good about him. It 
 seems odd, but the arm of this submarine monster, over 
 a mile long for all that I knew, was a bond of union 
 between 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 that could have 
 tackled itself to us two, except this long, slippery arm 
 
168 THE WATER-DEVIL. 
 
 of the Water-devil, with one end in the monstrous flob 
 at the bottom, and the other fast to our ship. 
 
 " There was no doubt about it, if it hadn t been for 
 that Water-devil she would have been no more to me 
 than the Queen of Madagascar was ; but under the 
 circumstances, if I wasn t everything to her, who 
 could be anything that is, if one looked at the mat 
 ter from a practical point of view?" 
 
 The blacksmith made a little movement of impa 
 tience. " Suppose you cut all that/ said he. "I 
 don t care about the bond of union ; I want to know 
 what happened to the ship." 
 
 " It is likely," said the marine, " if I could have cut 
 the bond of union that I spoke of, that is to say, the 
 Water-devil s arm, that I would have done it, hoping 
 that I might safely float off somewhere with Miss 
 Miiiturn ; but I couldn t cut it then, and I can t cut it 
 now. That bond is 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 under the circumstances, but, of 
 course, that wasn t very much. I hoisted a flag upside 
 down, and after considering the matter I concluded to 
 take in all the sails that had been set. I thought 
 that a steamer without smoke coming from her fun 
 nel, and no sails set, would be more likely to attract 
 attention from distant vessels than if she appeared to 
 be under sail. 
 
 " I am not a regular sailor, as I said before, but I 
 got out on the yard, and cut the square sail loose and 
 let it drop on the deck, and I let the jib come down 
 
THE WATER-DEVIL. 169 
 
 on a run, and managed to bundle it up some way on 
 the bowsprit. This sort of thing took all the nautical 
 gymnastics that I was master of, and entirely occu 
 pied my mind, so that I found myself whistling while 
 I worked. I hoped Miss Minturn heard me whistle, 
 because it would not only give her courage, but would 
 let her see that I 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, and then an idea struck me. 
 Suppose/ thought I, that we are not stationary, but 
 that we are in some queer kind of a current, and that 
 the water, ship and all are steadily moving on to 
 gether, so that after awhile 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 about noon,. and it so happened that on 
 the day before, when the chief officer took his obser 
 vation, I was seized with a desire to watch him and 
 see how he did it. I don t see why I should have had 
 this notion, but I had it, and I paid the strictest at 
 tention 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 it with, and I took an observation, 
 and I found that we were in latitude 15 north, 90 
 east, exactly where we had been twenty-four hours 
 before ! 
 
 " When I found out this, I turned so faint that I 
 wanted to sit down and cover up my head. The 
 Water-devil had us, there was no mistake about it 
 
170 THE WATER-DEVIL. . 
 
 and no use trying to think of anything else. I stag 
 gered along the deck, went below, and cooked myself 
 a meal. In a case like this there s nothing like a 
 square meal to keep a man up. 
 
 "I know you don t like to hear her mentioned/ 
 said the marine, turning to the blacksmith, "but I am 
 bound to say that in course of the afternoon Miss 
 Minturn came on deck several times, to ask if any 
 thing new had happened, and if I had seen a vessel. 
 I showed her all that I had done, and told her I was 
 going to hang out lights at night, and did everything 
 I could to keep her on deck as long as possible ; for 
 it was easy to see that she needed fresh air, and I 
 needed company. As long as I was talking to her I 
 didn t care a snap of my finger for the Water-devil. 
 It is queer what an influence a beautiful woman has 
 on a man, but it s so, and there s no use arguing about 
 it. She said she had been puzzling her brains to find 
 out what had stopped us, and she supposed it must be 
 that we had run onto a shallow place and stuck fast 
 in the mud, but thought it wonderful that there should 
 be such a place so far from land. I agreed with her 
 that it was wonderful, and added that that was prob 
 ably the reason the captain and the crew had been 
 seized with a panic. But sensible people like herself 
 and her father, I said, ought not to be troubled by 
 such an occurrence, especially as the vessel remained 
 in a perfectly sound condition. 
 
 "She said that her father was busily engaged in 
 writing his memoirs, and that his mind was so occu 
 pied, he had not concerned himself at all about our 
 
THE WATER-DEVIL. 171 
 
 situation, that is, if lie had noticed that we were not 
 moving. 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/ She 
 thanked me very much and went below. 
 
 " She came up again, after this, but her maid came 
 with her, and the two walked on deck for a while. I 
 didn t have much to say to them that time ; but just 
 before dark Miss Minturn came on deck alone, and 
 walked forward, where I happened to be. ( Sir/ said 
 she, and her voice trembled a little as she spoke, if 
 anything should happen, will you promise me that 
 you will try to save my father ? You can t imagine 
 how these touching words from this beautiful woman 
 affected me. My dear lady/ said I, and I hope she 
 did not take offence at the warmth of my expression, 
 I don t see how anything can happen ; but I promise 
 you, on the word of a sea-soldier, that if danger should 
 come upon us, I will save not only your father, but 
 yourself and your maid. Trust me for that/ 
 
 " The look she gave me when I said these words, 
 and especially the flash of her eye when I spoke of 
 my being a sea-soldier, made me feel strong enough 
 to tear that sea-monster s arm in twain, and to sail 
 away with the lovely creature for whom my heart 
 was beginning to throb." 
 
 " It s a pity," said the blacksmith, " that you hadn t 
 jumped into the water while the fit was on you, and 
 done the tearing." 
 
 " A man often feels strong enough to do a thing," 
 
172 THE WATER-DEVIL. 
 
 said the marine, " and yet 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 
 saving to be done, Fd attend to Miss Minturn, even 
 if I had to neglect the rest of the family. 
 
 " She didn t make any answer, but she gave me her 
 hand; and she couldn t have done anything I liked 
 better than that. I held it as long as I could, 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 was still, and I knew I shouldn t 
 see anybody any more that night, I began to have the 
 quakes and the shakes. If even I had had the maid 
 to talk to, it would have been a comfort ; but in the 
 way of faithfully attending 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 any time for chats with me. 
 
 "Being aloue, I couldn t help all the time thinking 
 about the Water-devil, and although it seems a foolish 
 thing now that I look back on it, I set to work to 
 calculate how long it would take him to count his 
 feet. I made it about the same time as you did, sir," 
 nodding to the school-master, " only I considered that 
 if he counted twelve hours, and slept and rested 
 twelve hours, that would make it seven days, which 
 would give me a good long time with Miss Minturn, 
 and that would be the greatest of joys to me, -no 
 matter what happened afterward. 
 
THE WATER-DEVIL. 173 
 
 " But then nobody could be certain that the mon 
 ster at the bottom of the bay needed rest or sleep. 
 He might be able to count without stopping, and how 
 did I know that he couldn t check off four hundred 
 claws a minute ? If that happened to be the case, 
 our time must be nearly up. 
 
 "When that idea came into my head, I jumped up 
 and began to walk about. What could I do ? I cer 
 tainly ought to be ready to do something when the 
 time came. I thought of getting life-preservers, and 
 strapping one on each of us, so that if the Water-devil 
 turned over the vessel and shook us out, we shouldn t 
 sink down to him, but would float on the surface. 
 
 " But then the thought struck me that if he should 
 find the vessel empty of live creatures, and should see 
 us floating around on the top, all he had to do was to 
 let go of the ship and grab us, one at a time. When 
 I thought of a fist as big as a yawl-boat, clapping its 
 fifty-two fingers on me, it sent a shiver through my 
 bones. The fact was there wasn t anything to do, 
 and so after a while I managed to get asleep, which 
 was a great comfort." 
 
 "Mr. Cardly," said Mr. Harberry to the school 
 master, "what reason can you assign why a sea- 
 monster, such as has been described to us, should 
 neglect to seize upon several small boats filled with 
 men who were escaping from a vessel which it held 
 in custody ? " 
 
 "I do not precisely see," answered Mr. Cardly, 
 "why these men should have been allowed this im 
 munity, but I " 
 
174 THE WATER-DEVIL. 
 
 " Oh, that is easily explained/ interrupted the 
 marine, "for of course the Water-devil could not 
 know that a lot more people were not left in the ship, 
 and if he let go his hold on her, to try and grab a 
 boat that was moving as fast as men could row it, the 
 steamer might get out of his reach, and he mightn t 
 have another chance for a hundred years to make fast 
 to a vessel. No, sir, a creature like that isn t apt to 
 take any wild chances, when he s got hold of a really 
 good thing. Anyway, we were held tight and fast, 
 for at twelve o clock the next day I took another 
 observation, and there we were, in the same latitude 
 and longitude 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 have said 
 before, was all the same as the ocean, being some 
 where about a thousand miles wide. Not a sail, not 
 a puff of smoke could I see. It must have been a 
 slack season for navigation, or else we were out of 
 the common track of vessels ; I had never known that 
 the Bay of Bengal was so desperately lonely. 
 
 "It seems unnatural, and I can hardly believe it, 
 when I look back on it, 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 only breeze enough to make things cool and 
 comfortable. I was head-man on that vessel, and Miss 
 Minturn might come on deck at any .moment, and as 
 long as I could forget that there was a Water-devil 
 fastened to the bottom of the vessel, there was no 
 reason why I should not be perfectly satisfied with 
 
THE WATER-DEVIL. 175 
 
 things as they were. And if things had stayed as 
 they were, for two or three months, I should have 
 been right well pleased, especially since Miss Min- 
 turn s maid, by order of her mistress, had begun to 
 cook my meals, which she did in a manner truly first- 
 class. I believed then, and I stand to it now, that 
 there is no better proof of a woman s good feeling 
 toward a man, than for her to show an interest in his 
 meals. That s the sort of sympathy that comes home 
 to a man, and tells on him, body and soul." 
 
 As the marine made this remark, he glanced at the 
 blacksmith s daughter ; but that young lady had taken 
 up her sewing and appeared to be giving it her earnest 
 attention. He then went on with his story. 
 
 "But things did not remain as they were. The 
 next morning, about half an hour after breakfast, I 
 was walking up and down the upper deck, smoking 
 my pipe, and wondering when Miss Minturn would be 
 coming up to talk to me about the state of affairs, 
 when suddenly I felt the deck beneath me move with 
 a quick, sharp jerk, something like, I imagine, a small 
 shock of an earthquake. 
 
 " Never, in all my life, did the blood run so cold in 
 my veins ; my legs trembled so that I could scarcely 
 stand. I knew what had happened, the Water-devil 
 had begun to haul upon the ship ! 
 
 "I was in such a state of collapse that I did not 
 seem to have any power over my muscles ; but for all 
 that, I heard Miss Minturn s voice at the foot of the 
 companion-way, and knew that she was coming on 
 deck. In spite of the dreadful awfulness of that mo- 
 
176 THE WATER-DEVIL. 
 
 ment, I felt it would never do for her to see me in the 
 condition I was in, and so, shuffling and half-tumbling, 
 I got forward, went below, and made my way to the 
 steward s room, where I had already discovered some 
 spirits, and I took a good dram; for although I am 
 not by any means an habitual drinker, being princi 
 pled against that sort of thing, there are times when 
 a man needs the support of some good brandy or 
 whiskey. 
 
 "In a few minutes I felt more like myself, and 
 went on deck, and there was Miss Minturn, half- 
 scared to death. What is the meaning of that 
 shock ? she said ; have we struck anything ? 9 ( My 
 dear lady/ said I, with as cheerful a front as I could 
 put on, <I do not think we have struck anything. 
 There is nothing to strike. She looked at me for a 
 moment 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. My father felt that shock. 
 He sent me to inquire about it. His mind is dis 
 turbed. At that moment, before I could make an 
 answer, there was another jerk of the ship, and we 
 both went down on our knees, and I felt as if I had 
 been tripped. I was up in a moment, however, but 
 she continued on her knees. I am sure she was pray 
 ing, but very soon up she sprang. Oh, what is it, 
 what is it ? she cried ; I must go to my father. 
 
 " 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 fright- 
 
THE WATER-DEVIL. 177 
 
 ened, but when she ran below she left on deck about 
 as frightened a man as ever stood in shoes. There 
 could be no doubt about it; that horrible beast was 
 beginning to pull upon the ship. Whether or not it 
 would be able to draw 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 crew had deserted the ship, had sat 
 down and covered her head ; but now I did pretty 
 much the same thing; I crouched on the deck and 
 pulled my cap over my eyes. I felt that I did not 
 wish to see, hear, or feel anything. 
 
 " I had sat in this way for about half an hour, and 
 had felt no more shocks, when a slight gurgling sound 
 came to my ears. I listened for a moment, then 
 sprang to my feet. Could we be moving ? I ran to 
 the side of the ship. The gurgle seemed to be com 
 ing from the stern. I hurried there and looked over. 
 The wheel had been lashed fast, and the rudder stood 
 straight out behind us. On each side of it there was 
 a ripple in the quiet water. We were moving, and we 
 were moving backward ! 
 
 "Overpowered by horrible fascination, I stood 
 grasping the rail, and looking over at the water be 
 neath me, as the vessel moved slowly and steadily 
 onward, stern foremost. * In spite of the upset condi 
 tion of my mind, I could not help wondering why the 
 vessel should move in this way. 
 
 "There was only one explanation possible: The 
 Water-devil was walking along the bottom, and tow 
 ing us after him ! Why he should pull us along in 
 
178 THE WATER-DEVIL. 
 
 this way I could not imagine, unless he was making 
 for his home in some dreadful cave at the bottom, 
 into which he would sink, dragging us down after 
 him. 
 
 "While my mind was occupied with these horrible 
 subjects, some one touched me on the arm, and turn 
 ing, I saw Miss Minturn. Are we not moving? 
 she said. Yes, I answered, we certainly are. Do 
 you not think/ she then asked, that we may have 
 been struck by a powerful current, which is now car 
 rying us onward ? I did not believe this, for there 
 was no reason to suppose that there were currents 
 which wandered about, starting off vessels with a jerk, 
 but I was glad to think that this idea had come into 
 her heajl, and said that it was possible that this might 
 be the case. And now we are going somewhere/ she 
 said, speaking almost cheerfully. Yes, we are/ I 
 answered, and I had to try hard not to groan as I said 
 the words. And where do you think we are going? 
 she asked. It was altogether out of my power to tell 
 that sweet creature 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 we keep 
 moving, we re bound at last to get near land, or to 
 some place where ships would pass near us. 
 
 " There is nothing in this *world," said the marine, 
 " which does a man so much good in time of danger as 
 to see a hopeful spirit in a woman that is, a woman 
 that he cares about. Some of her courage comes to 
 him, and he is better and stronger for having her 
 alongside of him." 
 
THE WATER-DEVIL. 179 
 
 Having made this remark, the speaker again glanced 
 at the blacksmith s daughter. She had put down her 
 work and was looking at him with an earnest bright 
 ness in her eyes. 
 
 "Yes," he continued, "it is astonishing what a 
 change came over me, as I stood by the side of that 
 noble girl. She was a born lady, I was a marine, just 
 the same as we had been before, but there didn t seem 
 to be the difference between us that there had been. 
 Her words, her spirits, everything about her, in fact, 
 seemed to act on me, to elevate me, 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 I would not be ashamed to say, Here 
 I am, ready to stand by you, whatever happens. " 
 
 Having concluded this sentiment, the marine again 
 glanced toward the blacksmith s daughter. Her eyes 
 were slightly moist, and her face was glowing with a 
 certain enthusiasm. 
 
 " Look here," said the blacksmith, " I suppose that 
 woman goes along with you into the very maw of the 
 sunken Devil, but I do wish you could take her more 
 for granted, and get on faster with the real part of 
 the story." 
 
 " One part is as real as another," said the marine ; 
 " but on we go, and on we did go for the whole of the 
 rest of that day, at the rate of about half a knot an 
 hour, as near as I could guess at it. The weather 
 changed, and a dirty sort of fog came down on us, so 
 that we couldn t see far in any direction. 
 
 " Why that Water-devil should keep on towing us, 
 
180 THE WATER-DEVIL. 
 
 and where he was going to take us, were things I 
 didn t dare to think about. The fog did not prevent 
 me from seeing the water about our stern, and I 
 leaned over the rail, 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 see that the rudder no longer 
 parted the quiet water, and that we had ceased to 
 move. A flash of hope blazed up within me. Had 
 the Water-devil found the ship too heavy a load, and 
 had he given up the attempt to drag it to its under- 
 ocean cave? I went below and had my supper; I 
 was almost a happy man. When Miss Minturn came 
 to ask me how we were getting along, I told her that 
 I thought we were doing very well indeed. I did not 
 mention that we had ceased to move, for she thought 
 that a favorable symptom. She went back to her 
 quarters greatly cheered up. Not so much, I think, 
 from my words, as from my joyful aspect ; for I did 
 feel jolly, there was no doubt about it. If that Water- 
 devil had let go of us, I was willing to take all the 
 other chances that might befall a ship floating about 
 loose on the Bay of Bengal. 
 
 " The fog was so thick that night that it was damp 
 and unpleasant on deck, and so, having hung out and 
 lighted a couple of lanterns, I went below for a com 
 fortable smoke in the captain s room. I was puffing 
 away here at my ease, with my mind filled with 
 happy thoughts of two or three weeks with Miss 
 Minturn on this floating paradise, where she was 
 
THE WATER-DEVIL. 181 
 
 bound to see a good deal of me, and couldn t help 
 liking me better, and depending on me more and 
 more every day, when I felt a little jerking shock. 
 It was the same thing that we had felt before. The 
 Water-devil still 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 into the room. 
 Miss Minturn wants to know, sir/ she said, if you 
 think that shock is a sudden twist in the current 
 which is carrying us on ? I straightened myself up 
 as well as I could, and in the dim light I do not think 
 she noticed my condition. I answered that I thought 
 it was something of that sort, and she went away. 
 
 " More likely, a twist of the Devil s arm, I thought, 
 as I sat there alone 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 or another. Per 
 haps he had reached the opening of his den, and was 
 shortening 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 for the 
 night. 
 
 " I went up, and looked out on deck, but everything 
 was horribly dark and sticky and miserable there. I 
 noticed that my lanterns were not burning, and then 
 I remembered that I had not filled them. But this 
 did not trouble me. If a vessel came along and saw 
 our lights she would probably keep away from us, and 
 
182 THE WATER-DEVIL. 
 
 I would have been glad to have a vessel come to us, 
 even if she ran into us. Our steamer would probably 
 float long enough for us to get on board the other one, 
 and almost anything would be better than being left 
 alone in this dreadful place, at the mercy of the 
 Water-devil. 
 
 " Before I left the deck I felt another shock. This 
 took out of me whatever starch was left, and I shuf 
 fled below and got to my bunk, where I tumbled in 
 and covered myself up, head and all. If there had 
 been any man to talk to, it would have been different, 
 but I don t know when 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 think of other things ; to imagine that 
 I was drilling with the rest of my company, with Tom 
 Eogers on one side of me, and old Humphrey Peters 
 on the other. You may say, perhaps, that this wasn t 
 exactly the way of carrying out my promise of taking 
 care of Miss Minturn and the others. But what was 
 there to do ? When the time carne to do anything, 
 and I could see what to do, I was ready to do it ; but 
 there was no use of waking them up now and setting 
 their minds on edge, when they were all comfortable 
 in their beds, thinking that every jerk of the Devil s 
 arm was a little twist in the current that was carrying 
 them to Calcutta or some other desirable port. 
 
 " I felt some shocks after I got into bed, but whether 
 or not there were many in the night, I don t know, for 
 I went to sleep. It was daylight when I awoke, and 
 jumping out of my bunk I dashed on deck. Every- 
 
THE WATER-DEVIL. 183 
 
 thing seemed pretty much as it had been, and the fog 
 was as thick as ever. I ran to the stern and looked 
 over, and I could scarcely believe my eyes when I saw 
 that we were moving again, still stern foremost, but a 
 little faster than before. That beastly Water-devil 
 had taken a rest for the night, and had probably given 
 us the shocks by turning over in his sleep, and now he 
 was off again, making up for lost time. 
 
 " Pretty soon Miss Minturn came on deck, and bade 
 me good morning, and then she went and looked over 
 the stern. We are still moving on/ she said, with a 
 smile, and the fog doesn t seem to make any differ 
 ence. It surely cannot be long before we get some 
 where. <]STo, miss/ said I, it cannot be very long/ 
 You look tired/ she said, < and I don t wonder, for you 
 must feel the heavy responsibility on you. I have 
 told my maid to prepare breakfast for you in our 
 cabin. I want my father to know you, and I think it 
 is a shame that you, the only protector that we have, 
 should be shut off so much by yourself ; so after this 
 we shall eat together. After this/ I groaned to my 
 self, we shall be eaten together. At that moment I did 
 not feel that I wanted to breakfast with Miss Minturn." 
 
 "Mr. Cardly," said Mr. Harberry to the school 
 master, " have you ever read, in any of your scientific 
 books, that the Bay of Bengal is subject to heavy fogs 
 that last day after day ? " 
 
 " I cannot say," answered the school-master, " that 
 my researches into the geographical distribution of 
 fogs have resulted " 
 
 "As to fogs," interrupted the marine, "you can t 
 
184 THE WATEE-DEVIL. 
 
 get rid of them, you know. If you had been in the 
 habit of going to sea, you would know that you are 
 likely to run into a fog at any time, and in any 
 weather ; and as 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 any account 
 at all. I had enough other things to occupy my 
 mind." And having settled this little matter, .he 
 went on with his story. 
 
 " Well, my friends, I did not breakfast with Miss 
 Minturn and her father. Before that meal was ready, 
 and while I was standing alone at the 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 and mysterious object, apparently with 
 out any shape or form. This sight made the teeth 
 chatter in my head. I had expected to be pulled 
 down to the 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 we were approaching it. When I 
 perceived this, I shut my eyes and turned my 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. Why should I ? What 
 could they do ? " 
 
 " If it had been me," said Mrs. Fryker, in a sort of 
 gasping whisper, " I should have died right there." 
 The marine turned his eyes in the direction of the 
 blacksmith s daughter. She was engaged with her 
 work, and was not looking at him. 
 
THE WATER-DEVIL. 185 
 
 "I cannot say," lie continued, "that, had Miss 
 Minturn been there at that moment, that I would not 
 have declared that I was ready to die for her or with 
 her ; but there was no need of trying to keep up her 
 courag % e, that was all right. She knew nothing of 
 our danger. That terrible knowledge pressed on me 
 alone. Is it wonderful that a human soul should 
 sink a little under such an awful load ? " Without 
 turning to observe the effect of these last words, the 
 marine went on. "Suddenly I heard 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 heard what sounded like words ; I 
 saw in the fog the stern of a vessel, with a man 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 maid were 
 standing by me. The man had stopped shouting from 
 his trumpet, and a boat was being lowered from the 
 other ship. In about ten minutes there were half-a- 
 dozen men on board of us, all in the uniform of the 
 British navy. I was stiff enough now, and felt my 
 self from top to toe a regular marine in the service of 
 my country. I stepped up to the officer in command 
 and touched my cap. 
 
 "He looked at me and my companions in surprise, 
 and then glancing along the deck, said, What .has 
 happened to this vessel ? Who is in command ? I 
 informed him, that, strictly speaking, no one was in 
 
186 THE WATER-DEVIL. 
 
 command, but that I represented the captain, officers, 
 and crew of this steamer, the General Brooks, from 
 San Francisco to Calcutta, and I then proceeded to 
 tell him the whole story of our misfortunes ; and con 
 cluded by telling the officer, that if we had not moved 
 since his vessel had come in sight, it was probably 
 because the Water-devil had let go of us, and was pre 
 paring to make fast to the other ship ; and therefore 
 it would be advisable for us all to get on board his 
 vessel, and steam away as quickly as possible. 
 
 "The Englishmen looked at me in amazement. 
 1 Drunk! ejaculated the officer I had addressed. 
 Cracked, I should say/ suggested another. Now/ 
 spoke up Mr. Minturn, I do not understand what I 
 have just heard/ he said. What is a Water-devil ? 
 I am astounded. 7 You never said a word of this to 
 me ! exclaimed Miss Minturn. You never told me 
 that we were in the grasp of a Water-devil, and that 
 that was the reason the captain and the crew ran 
 away. No/ said I, I never divulged the dreadful 
 danger we were in. I allowed you to believe that we 
 were in the influence of a current, and that the shocks 
 we felt were the 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, to 
 her invalid father, and devoted servant, what might 
 have crushed their souls, driven them to the borders 
 of frenzy ; in which case the relief which 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. 
 
THE WATER-DEVIL. 187 
 
 At what time did this Water-devil begin 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 this 
 matter ! he suddenly exclaimed, and turning, he and 
 his party left us to ourselves. The boat was now sent 
 back with a message to the English vessel, and the 
 officers and men who remained scattered themselves 
 over our steamer, examining the engine-room, hold, 
 and every part of her. 
 
 "I was very much opposed to all this delay; for 
 although the Englishmen might 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 get 
 ting away as soon as possible ; but, of course, British 
 officers would not be advised by me, and as I was 
 getting very hungry I went down to breakfast. I ate 
 this meal alone, for my fellow-passengers seemed to 
 have no desire for food. 
 
 "I cannot tell all that happened during the next 
 hour, for, to tell the truth, I did not understand every 
 thing that was done. The boat passed several times 
 between the two vessels, bringing over a number of 
 men two of them scientific fellows, I think. Another 
 was a diver, whose submarine suit and air-pumping 
 machines came over with him. He was lowered over 
 the side, and after he had been down about fifteen 
 minutes he was hauled up again, and down below was 
 the greatest hammering and hauling that ever you 
 
188 THE WATER-DEVIL. 
 
 heard. The General Brooks was put in charge of an 
 officer and some men ; a sail was hoisted to keep her 
 in hand, so that she wouldn t drift into the other ship ; 
 and in the rnidst of all the rowdy-dow we were told 
 that if we liked we might go on board the English 
 vessel immediately. 
 
 "Miss Minturn and her party instantly accepted 
 this invitation, and althougn under ordinary circum 
 stances I would have remained to see for myself what 
 these people found out, I felt a relief in the thought 
 of leaving that vessel which is impossible for me to 
 express, and I got into the boat with the others. 
 
 "We were treated very handsomely on board the 
 English vessel, which was a mail steamship, at that 
 time in the employment of the English Government. 
 I told my story at least half-a-dozen times, sometimes 
 to the officers and sometimes to the men, and whether 
 they believed me or not, I don t think any one ever 
 created a greater sensation with a story of the sea. 
 
 " In an hour or so the officer in charge of the opera 
 tions on the General Brooks came aboard. As he 
 passed me on his way to the captain, he said, We 
 found your Water-devil, my man. i And he truly had 
 us in tow ? 7 I cried. Yes, you are perfectly correct/ 
 he said, and went on to make his report to the cap 
 tain." * 
 
 "Now, then," said the blacksmith, "I suppose we 
 are going to get to the pint. What did he report ? " 
 
 "I didn t hear his report/ 7 said the marine, "but 
 everybody soon knew what had happened to our un 
 lucky vessel, and I can give you the whole story of it. 
 
THE WATER-DEVIL. 189 
 
 The General Brooks sailed from San Francisco to Cal 
 cutta, with a cargo of stored electricity, contained in 
 large, strongly made boxes. This I knew nothing 
 about, not being in the habit of inquiring into car 
 goes. Well, in some way or other, which I don t 
 understand, not being a scientific man myself, a mag 
 netic connection was formed between these boxes, and 
 also, if I got the story straight, between them and the 
 iron hull of our vessel, so that it became, in fact, an 
 enormous floating magnet, one of the biggest things of 
 the kind on record. I have an idea that this magnetic 
 condition was the cause of the trouble to our ma 
 chinery ; every separate part of it was probably turned 
 to a magnet, and they all stuck together." 
 
 " Mr. Cardly," said Mr. Harberry to the school 
 master, " I do not suppose you have given much at 
 tention to the study of commerce, and therefore are 
 not prepared to give us any information in regard to 
 stored electricity as an article of export from this 
 country; but perhaps you can tell us what stored elec 
 tricity is, and how it is put into boxes." 
 
 "In regard to the transportation," answered the 
 school-master, speaking a little slowly, "of encased 
 electric potency, I cannot " 
 
 66 Oh, bless me ! " interrupted the marine ; " that is all 
 simple enough ; you can store electricity and send it 
 all over the world, if you like ; in places like Calcutta, 
 I think it must be cheaper to buy it than to make it. 
 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 and churning butter. When the 
 
190 THE WATER-DEVIL. 
 
 stored electricity in a box is all used up, all you have 
 to do is to connect a fresh box with your machinery, 
 and there you are, ready to start again. There was 
 nothing strange about our cargo. It was the elec 
 tricity leaking out and uniting itself and the iron ship 
 into a sort of conglomerate magnet that was out of 
 the way." 
 
 " Mr. Cardly," said Mr. Harberry, " if an iron ship 
 were magnetized in that manner, wouldn t it have a 
 deranging effect upon the needle of the compass ?" 
 
 The marine did not give the school-master time to 
 make answer. "Generally speaking," said he, "that 
 sort of thing would interfere with keeping the vessel 
 on its proper course, but with us it didn t make any 
 difference at all. The greater part of the ship was in 
 front of the binnacle where they keep the compass, 
 and so the needle naturally pointed that way, and as 
 we were going north before a south wind, it was all 
 right. 
 
 "Being a floating magnet, of course, did not pre 
 vent our sailing, so we went along well enough until 
 we came to longitude 90, latitude 15 north. Now 
 it so happened that a telegraphic cable which had 
 been laid down by the British Government to estab 
 lish communication between Madras and Rangoon, 
 had broken some time before, and not very far from 
 this point. 
 
 "Now you can see for yourselves that when an 
 enormous mass of magnetic iron, in the shape of 
 the General Brooks, came sailing along there, the 
 part of that cable which lay under us was so attracted 
 
THE WATER-DEVIL. 191 
 
 by such a powerful and irresistible force that its 
 broken end raised itself from the bottom of the bay 
 and reached upward until it touched our ship, when 
 it laid itself along our keel, to which it instantly be 
 came fastened as firmly as if it had been bolted and 
 riveted there. Then, as the rest of this part of the 
 cable was on the bottom of the bay all the way to 
 Madras, of course we had to stop; that s simple 
 enough. That s the way the Water-devil held us fast 
 in one spot for two days. 
 
 " The British Government determined not to repair 
 this broken cable, but to take it up and lay down a 
 better one; so they chartered a large steamer, and 
 fitted her up with engines, and a big drum that they 
 use for that sort of thing, and set her to work to 
 wind up the Madras end of the broken cable. She 
 had been at this business a good while before we 
 were caught by the other end, and when they got 
 near enough to us for their engines to be able to 
 take up the slack from the bottom between us and 
 them, then of course they pulled upon us, and we 
 began to move. And when they lay to for the 
 night, and stopped the winding business, of course 
 we stopped, and the stretch of cable between the two 
 ships had no effect upon us, except when the big mail 
 steamer happened 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 our shocks. 
 
 "When they set the drum going again in the 
 morning, it wasn t long before they wound us near 
 enough for them to see us, which they would have 
 
192 THE WATER-DEVIL. 
 
 done sooner if my lights hadn t gone out so early 
 in the evening/ 
 
 " And that/ 7 said the blacksmith, with a somewhat 
 severe expression on his face, "is all that you have 
 to tell about your wonderful Water-devil ! " 
 
 " All ! " said the marine ; " I should say it was 
 quite enough, and nothing could be more wonderful 
 than what really happened. A Water-devil is one of 
 two things : he is real, or he s not real. If he s not 
 real, he^s no more than an ordinary spook or ghost, 
 and is not to be practically considered. If he s real, 
 then he s an alive animal, and can be put in a class 
 with other animals, and described in books, because 
 even if nobody sees him, the scientific men know how 
 he must be constructed, and then he s no more than 
 a great many other wonderful things, which we can 
 see alive, stuffed, or in plaster casts. 
 
 " But if you want to put your mind upon something 
 really wonderful, just think 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 
 more life in it than there is in a ten-penny nail. 
 
 "Then imagine that long, dead wire snake to be 
 suddenly filled with life, and to know that there was 
 something far up above it, on the surface of the 
 water, that it wants to reach up to and touch. Think 
 of it lifting and flapping its broken end, and then im 
 agine it raising yard after yard of itself up and up, 
 through the solemn water, more and more of it lift 
 ing itself from the bottom, curling itself backward 
 and forward as it rises higher and higher, until at 
 
THE WATER-DEVIL. 193 
 
 last, with a sudden jump that must have ripped a 
 mile or more of it from the bottom, it claps its end 
 against the thing it wants to touch, and which it can 
 neither see, nor hear, nor smell, but which it knows 
 is there. Could there be anything in this world more 
 wonderful than that ? 
 
 " And then, if that isn t enough of a wonder, think 
 of the Rangoon end of that cable squirming and wrig 
 gling and stretching itself out toward our 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 and frantic to get up to us and lay 
 hold of us ; and then, after our vessel had been gradu 
 ally pulled away from it, think of this other part get 
 ting weaker and weaker, minute by minute, until it 
 falls flat on the 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; "but I must say I am disappointed." 
 
 " In what way ? " asked the marine. 
 
 "A Water-devil," said she, "as big as six whales, 
 and with a funnelly mouth to suck in people, is differ 
 ent; but, of course, after all, it was better as it was." 
 
 " Look here," said the blacksmith, " what became 
 of the girl ? I wanted her finished up long ago, and 
 you haven t done it yet." 
 
 " Miss Minturn, you mean," said the marine. 
 "Well, there is not much to say about her. Things 
 happened in the usual way. When the danger was 
 
194 THE WATER-DEVIL. 
 
 all over, when she had other people to depend upon 
 besides me, and we were on board a fine steamer, with 
 a lot of handsomely dressed naval officers, and going 
 comfortably to Madras, of course she thought no more 
 of the humble sea-soldier who once stood between her 
 and nobody knew what. In fact, the only time she 
 spoke to me after we got on board the English 
 steamer, she made me feel, although she didn t say 
 it in words, that she was not at all obliged to me for 
 supposing that she would have been scared to death 
 if I had told her about the Water-devil." 
 
 "I suppose," said the blacksmith, "by the time 
 you got back to your ship you had overstayed your 
 leave of absence a good while. Did your captain let 
 you off when you told him this story of the new- 
 fashioned Water-devil ? " 
 
 The marine smiled. "I never went back to the 
 Apache" he said. "When I 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 therefore concluded to give up the marine service 
 for a time and go into another line of business, about 
 which it is too late to tell you now." 
 
 "Mr. Cardly," said Mr. Harberry to the school 
 master, "have you ever read that the British Gov 
 ernment has a submarine cable from Madras to 
 Rangoon ? " 
 
 The marine took it upon himself to answer this 
 question. "The cable of which I spoke to you," he 
 said, "was taken up, as I told you, and I never heard 
 that another one was laid. But it is getting late, arid 
 
THE WATER-DEVIL. 195 
 
 I think I will go to bed ; I have a long walk before 
 me to-morrow." So saying he rose, put his pipe upon 
 the mantel-piece, and bade the company good night. 
 As he did so, he fixed his eyes on the blacksmith s 
 daughter, but that young lady did not look at him ; 
 she was busily reading the weekly newspaper, which 
 her father had left upon the table. 
 
 Mr. Harberry now rose, preparatory to going home ; 
 and as he buttoned up his coat, he looked from one to 
 another of the little group, and remarked, "I have 
 often heard that marines are a class of men who are 
 considered as fit subjects to tell tough stories to, but 
 it strikes me that the time has come when the tables 
 are beginning to be turned." 
 
 Typography by J. S. Pushing & Co., Boston. 
 Presswork by Berwick & Smith, Boston. 
 
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