/** 

 
 
 
 ROBERT 
 
 ERNEST COWAN 
 

 
 THE STORM'S GIFT 
 
 BY 
 
 DR. C. E. LINTON 
 
 ILLUSTRATED 
 
 FROM THE PRESS OF THE 
 INTERSTATE BINDERY, VANCOUVER,
 
 COPYRIGHTED 
 BY 
 
 DR. C. E. LINTON
 
 352,2) 
 
 L 
 
 m 
 en 
 
 To My Dear Wife 
 
 LILLIAN 
 
 in memory of her gracious encouragement. 
 This book is lovingly dedicated. 
 
 281192
 
 CONTENTS: 
 
 Page 
 
 Dedication 7 
 
 Introduction + 11 
 
 The Wreck of the Grace and Dell 13 
 
 The Sailor's Story 28 
 
 The Land Voyage 36 
 
 Paul Likens 57 
 
 The Miser's Death _ 66 
 
 Lottie Meets Her Father 81 
 
 Midnight Storm 85 
 
 The Attack on the Grace and Dell 99 
 
 Lost at Sea 113 
 
 Charley Clarke's Wooing 130 
 
 The Hula Hula Dance 147 
 
 The Earthquake 155 
 
 Lottie's Trip West 164 
 
 "When Heaven Turns to Hell" 169 
 
 At Sea Again 173 
 
 Roy Gilbert's Wooing 178 
 
 Hugh's Disappointment 1 185 
 
 The Duel 193 
 
 "I Thank the Storms" .. . 208
 
 CHARLOTTE FUQUAY
 
 INTRODUCTION 
 
 Encouraged by the success of my book the 
 "Earthmotor," I am again in print. So much of 
 book is true history of pioneer times, the review 
 ers of the M. S. S. claim for it a place among the 
 historical records of Oregon. As many of the 
 characters are still living, it was necessary to use 
 ficticious names ; however numbers of Oregon pio 
 neers will recognize the characters under the as 
 sumed names. The South Sea Island spoken of 
 in this book has been visited by the author, where 
 many evidences of the Clarke Colony still remain. 
 To Mrs. Francis H. Christ the author owes much 
 for her able assistance in getting out this work. 
 She being a distinguished librarian on a summer 
 outing near my home. Kindly assisted me with 
 thought and detail. 
 
 The Author.
 
 THE STORM'S GIFT 
 
 Chapter I 
 The Wreck of the Grace and Dell. 
 
 "Martin! Martin! Don't you hear it " 
 
 "Hear what?" her husband answered drow 
 sily. "How can anyone hear anything in this 
 storm?" 
 
 "Why Martin," exclaimed the wife, "I heard 
 three great guns at sea." 
 
 "Good Lord! why didn't you say so sooner." 
 cried Martin, as he sprang from his bed. Call the 
 boys Lizzie, while I run down to the beach and see 
 if I can learn what's the trouble." 
 
 Martin had sought out an old candle lantern, 
 and held it up to his eyes to make sure he had it 
 lighted. 
 
 "Send Charley over to Williams as soon as he 
 is dressed, Lizzie," and as Martin approached the 
 window, he exclaimed, "Good Good! I see her!" 
 "Can't you see those lights, Lizzie" just there to 
 the right of the cow shed and not a mile at sea ?" 
 
 "God have mercy on them, Martin," spoke his 
 wife, " no ship can live in this gale." 
 
 "Live Lizzie ! she is in the breakers now." 
 "Come on Art, haint you got your clothes on yet ?" 
 
 "What is it father ?" came from the kitchen in 
 a boyish voice, and at the same time a youth of 
 about sixteen years of age stepped into what was 
 those days, the living room of the family.
 
 14 THE STORM'S GIFT 
 
 "It's a ship! A Wreck!" replied the father. 
 "Get into your Sou'wester and slicker as quick as 
 you can." 
 
 "Can't I help do something Daddy ?" spoke a 
 girlish voice from a bedroom door on the same 
 floor. 
 
 "Get back to bed Alice," commanded the fath 
 er "you couldn't stand up a moment in this storm." 
 
 All this conversation took place in less time 
 than it takes to repeat it. 
 
 The Clarke family had not been idle, and as a 
 lurid flash of lightning lit up the scene for a sec 
 ond, the father caught a glimpse of a three master 
 inside the third line of breakers. 
 
 The father and son left the house on a run, 
 and were it not for the darkness you might have 
 seen the graceful form of Alice Clarke as she fol 
 lowed behind her father and brother. 
 
 "She'll hit the beach about opposite the pasture 
 fence," said the father. "We can do nothing yet, 
 Frank, you had better return to the house and 
 have mother and the girls build a rousing fire in 
 the chimney, and put plenty of water to heat. If 
 any of them come alive, through that surf, it will 
 be a miracle, and it will need plenty of hot water 
 and blankets to thaw out their blood and say 
 boy! fetch back with you that long piece of cork 
 line hanging in the woodshed, and a bottle of rum 
 from the storehouse. More lively, boy, don't you 
 see the rollers have dashed out the lights on her 
 for'ard and aft?"
 
 THE STORM'S GIFT 15 
 
 "Daddy," spoke a pleading voice at his side, "I 
 am coming with you." 
 
 It was difficult to distinguish the girl's words 
 amidst the howling of the winds, and as the father 
 was too much occupied in watching the move 
 ments of the doomed ship, he gave but little heed 
 to his pleading daughter. 
 
 "Well come on, girl, you are always where 
 you are not wanted; if you catch your death 
 Lord girl! she's hit! there she strikes again! Oh 
 hear her groan! if she is new and staunch, she 
 may hold together. The shingle here is smooth, 
 and not a rock in two miles. If they stay on 
 board until she beaches, I believe they can save 
 themselves. Ha! what's that!" 
 
 "It's a voice Father." 
 
 "That didn't sound like a man's voice to me 
 girl, sounded more like the storm screaming 
 through her rigging." 
 
 "It sounded like a child's voice to me daddy, 
 a little child screaming with cold and horror." 
 
 "You better go back to the house girl, all 
 you are good for is to unnerve me with your 
 silly fancies. A child indeed on a three mast 
 whaler. More likely it was the squeal of a seal 
 or sealion in its alarm at the approach of the 
 doomed vessel. She is fast aground, daughter, 
 snug and fast. Gracious girl! how the wind 
 blows. Raise up your voice girl and yell with me, 
 perhaps we can make the poor devils hear us. 
 There comes the boys." As he spoke a half dozen
 
 16 THE STORM'S GIFT 
 
 settlers came rapidly forward accompanied by 
 the boy Charley. 
 
 "Can you make her out Clarke ?",spoke up 
 Williams, a tall stooped shouldered man about 
 fifty years of age and a slight limp in his walk. 
 
 "She's a three master, and likely a whaler, 
 only saw her plainly by one lightning flash. It 
 must be about high water, and she will be high 
 and dry at low tide. Seems as though some of 
 them ought to be showing up on deck or in the 
 surf. She had her mast head and tail lights, 
 when I first sighted her. Don't you think we had 
 better scatter out a little Williams?, the crew 
 might have taken to the boats and landed up by 
 the big stump, or down Yachats way. It's evi 
 dent there is no one on board now or they would 
 see our light and give us a signal." 
 
 "I'll take my boys and Joe Taylor and head 
 for the Yachats rocks, Clarke. It's the hardest 
 trip against the storm, but I'm the youngest, and 
 being an old sailor myself, know how to head into 
 a sixty mile breeze." "You better send the rest 
 of the boys up toward the mouth of the bay. If 
 they left in a life boat they have made the 
 mouth of the Alsea, but no life boat could live 
 on that bar in this gale." 
 
 So the men folks parted, leaving Alice stand 
 ing alone in the blinding storm. She had prom 
 ised her father to go home at once, but the piti 
 ful wail she had heard seemingly from the furi 
 ous breakers, seemed to hold her there with her
 
 THE STORM'S GIFT 17 
 
 eyes glued to the outline of the doomed ship. 
 
 "How can I leave here", she almost sobbed 
 to herself, "I know I heard a little child's voice, 
 but father says there could be no child on a 
 whaler and of course I must be mistaken still, 
 I dare not leave, seems as though it doesn't blow 
 so hard, and it has almost ceased to rain. If 
 the moon would only shine through the great 
 angry clouds for a minute." 
 
 As though in answer to her pleading a 
 rakish slant of light burst forth from a rift 
 in the scudding clouds, and as the full moon 
 stepped into the vacant space, she could see the 
 wreck in its mystic majesty, raising and falling 
 with the surly snarl of the surf. Again she 
 thought she heard a feeble cry during a lull in 
 the tempest, and a few minutes later, as the wind 
 died down, there was no mistake now. It was the 
 feeble voice of a child, in fact the anguished baby. 
 
 "Heavenly 'Father! what shall I do?, she 
 screamed aloud, "What can I do. It will perish 
 before low tide. Oh! how I wish the men had 
 not all left." 
 
 Faint streaks of dawn were kissing the east 
 ern horizon. Great winrows of yellowed sea foam 
 like lather blew about the beach. Overhead a 
 flock of screaming gulls were rushing to their 
 feast on a whale's carcass just a few rods north 
 of the big stump. As she stood there shaking 
 with cold and emotion, she saw the figure of her 
 youngest brother, Hugh, approaching.
 
 18 THE STORM'S GIFT 
 
 "Run back home, Hughie, dear, you'll freeze 
 or blow away brother." 
 
 "Guess I can stand as much cold as a girl 
 can", sang out her seven year old brother, who 
 had already killed a deer, and landed a Chinook 
 salmon as large as himself unaided. 
 
 "Hugh dear, then could you stand here and 
 watch the ship while I see if I can overtake father 
 and the boys ? I know there is a child aboard that 
 wreck." 
 
 "Do you think it's a boy, Alice ? If it's a boy 
 I'll just swim out and get him, but maybe it's a 
 girl sister, a regular clawing crying girl, and I 
 don't want to try rescuing no girls, for didn't 
 Hattie Bates just drown Frank Reames when 
 they was close to shore and him a saving her 
 life? No. Alice, I am afraid it's a girl so I guess 
 I'll not swim out." 
 
 "Don't talk silly, Hughey, no one could swim 
 out in this awful sea." 
 
 "Oh yes I could if it was a boy," but his 
 Words Were lost on his sister who by this time 
 was flying up the beach, her speed increased by 
 the wind at her back. 
 
 The girl was scarcely out of sight when the 
 boy on the beach spied a dark object floating low 
 in the water. Nearer and nearer came the mov 
 ing speck. When with a ponderous roller much 
 larger than the rest, the child could plainly see 
 it was the body of a man, the boy's first im 
 pulse was to fly for home, on second thought he
 
 THE STORM'S GIFT 19 
 
 decided to wait until it came ashore. Never 
 dreaming the man was alive. A half dozen 
 smaller breakers cast the wrecked sailor on the 
 smooth shingle almost at the boy's feet. Girted 
 about the body was a life preserver of a date 
 used fifty years ago, and clasped in his arms was 
 a tiny child, while about his neck hung a leather 
 sack. The boy approached the drowned sailor 
 with less awe than the average child of today 
 would, for in those times it wasn't an uncommon 
 sight to find drowned bodies lying on the beach, 
 washed from some fatal wreck miles away. 
 
 As the boy Hugh approached the body of the 
 sailor, the little child uttered a faint cry. 
 
 "By Crackins! the thing's alive", exclaimed 
 the boy Hugh. "By Crackins it must be cold. 
 Whew! it's a little thing. I know its a boy, be 
 cause it don't howl much. Where's my Barlow 
 knife. Oh, here it is. Can't untie these knots, 
 just got to cut 'em, lay still Sammy, be quiet, 
 or I might cut a slice out of you; this barlow is 
 as sharp as a razor, even if Charley did say you 
 couldn't cut soft butter with it. By Crackins 
 that rope is tough if it wasn't for them nicks in 
 the blade I couldn't saw that rope in two at all. 
 There you be, that one's off. Just one more and 
 you'll be loose from your friend, or grandfather, 
 or who ever he is." 
 
 At this the last knot gave up to the razor- 
 like barlow, and the child was free from the dead 
 sailor.
 
 20 
 
 "You're a boy, ain't you Sammy?", argued 
 Hugh in his childish confidence, "Of course, 
 you're a boy. What would a girl be doing on a 
 whale ship. My but you're a small one. You 
 wouldn't make more than a half dozen fish baits. 
 By Crackins you're shaking. What made your 
 eyes fly so wide open and stay so wide open? 
 Wish you'd cry or do something, Sammy. Sam 
 my, that's your name, you know cause I found 
 you, but here we are at the gate. Oh Mother!, 
 Ma Ma open the gate, I've got little Sammy, 
 found him tied to a dead sailor. He was crying 
 when I first found him, but his eyes popped open 
 and he just stared at me like he was scart of me/' 
 
 "Father in Heaven, Hughie, give me the little 
 darling. Oh ! Hughie, dear, it is dead." 
 
 "No he aint dead, Mother. He's just scairt. 
 He was hollerin' a little while ago." 
 
 "Why didn't you bring it quicker, Hughie?" 
 
 "Well it was tied fast to the man." 
 
 "The man, son, what man ?" 
 
 "Oh he's dead all right, he never hollered, 
 but the little Sammy he cried pretty loud at 
 first." 
 
 "I'm afraid it's too late Hughie. Dip some 
 of that hot water into the large dishpan while 
 I get these salt soaked rags off of the poor little 
 dear. Hurry, Hughie, we may save it. The child 
 isn't drowned, it's the cold and exposure that 
 has overcome it. Bring me the camphor."
 
 THE STORM'S GIFT 21 
 
 And as the last rag was stripped from the 
 little waif, the mother exclaimed; 
 
 "Oh! Hughie, it's a baby girl!" 
 
 Hughie's keen interest was considerably 
 dampened by this knowledge and with a shrug 
 he replied: 
 
 "She aint Sammy. She's another girl." 
 
 The mother worked feverishly, breathlessly, 
 over the unconscious babe, submerging her in 
 warm water, forcing a few drops of milk and 
 brandy into the tiny mouth. The blue lips were 
 set and cold, and the poor woman was about to 
 give up all hope, when a faint color seemed to 
 appear on the baby's cheeks. Soon a sigh es 
 caped the parted lips, and the set eyelids slowly 
 closed, the child had passed into a quiet sleep. 
 
 Clarke and his party were overtaken by the 
 swift footed Alice, a half mile to the northward 
 of the big stump. In a breath she told the news, 
 and Clarke andCharley, returned with her to the 
 scene of the wreck. Judge their surprise on 
 reaching a point opposite the wreck to discover 
 the body of a man lying half covered by the ac 
 cumulated foam of the angry sea. 
 
 "Here is one of them children. I wonder 
 where the rest can be." 
 
 While Alice bending over the prostrate form 
 of the sailor said to her father ; 
 
 "Daddy, maybe he isn't dead." 
 
 "By jove, that's so Alice. Do you notice any 
 symptoms of life?"
 
 22 THE STORM'S GIFT 
 
 The girl had torn open the blue sailor shirt, 
 and held her ear close over his heart. 
 
 "I think I hear a feeble heart beat Daddy." 
 
 "Then grab him by the heels, children. I will 
 carry the shoulders, and let's get him to the 
 house." 
 
 It was less than two hundred yards from the 
 Clarke home to the beach, and a few minutes 
 brought the Clarkes with the wet inanimate body 
 to the door. 
 
 "It's exposure and not drowning. Hasn't a 
 drop of water escaped his lips, all the way, al 
 though we have carried him face down. Hope 
 mother's got that water boiling. Charley where 
 is that rum?" 
 
 Soon the body of the sailor was deposited in 
 front of the fireplace on warm blankets. They 
 stripped the. sodden garments from his stark 
 form. Clarke had emptied a few spoonfuls of hot 
 rum between his lips, and a nervous twitching of 
 the eyelids betokened returning life. 
 
 "Look here, Martin. See what your son 
 Hugh has brought us. See this pretty girl from 
 the storm." 
 
 "Godfrey ! Lizzie, it's a baby." 
 
 "Of course it's a baby, Martin." 
 
 "Well Lizzie, woman, where did he get it?" 
 
 "It was lashed to the breast of your sailor 
 man there. Do you think he will live, Martin?" 
 
 "Alice is the Doctor, Mother." 
 
 "How, now, Alice girl ?"
 
 THE STORM'S GIFT 23 
 
 "He's alive father, but something is wrong 
 with his lungs. They're either full of water or 
 congestion. It seems so hard for him to breathe." 
 
 "Give him another spoonful of the hot rum, 
 daughter. There's nothing like hot rum for 
 thawing out the lungs." 
 
 After the administration of the stimulant, 
 the sailor opened his eyes. In a gasping voice 
 he inquired, "Where is it?" 
 
 "Oh ! it was wrecked", spoke up Clarke, "but 
 she is lying easily on the smooth shingle." 
 
 "I don't mean the ship. Damn the ship! I 
 mean the baby girl," he half whispered, half 
 groaned. 
 
 "She is sleeping sweetly, my good man", 
 spoke up Mrs. Clarke," you must rest yourself, 
 and be quiet." 
 
 "It aint for myself that I cares, lady, it's for 
 the little body I found clinging to its dead moth 
 er's breast at Unimak Pass in the Alutian 
 Islands." 
 
 "There now my friend, rest yourself and do 
 not try to talk. When you are stronger you 
 shall tell us all." said good Mrs. Clarke. 
 
 They raised the prostrate man and placed 
 him on a low bed in an adjoining room where 
 the warmth of the fireplace reached, and the girls 
 of the family busied themselves about the fire 
 place preparing the midday meal. 
 
 The baby girl had wakened from her sleep 
 in the warm flannels and the big blue eyes were
 
 24 THE STORM'S GIFT 
 
 looking longingly in the face of Mrs. Clarke, as 
 she held the little bundle fondly in her mother 
 arms. 
 
 "Is the milk warm, Alice ? then bring a cup 
 and a spoon, the poor little thing is most famish 
 ed. I wonder what that poor sailor man could 
 find on board a whaler to feed a tiny waif like 
 this. Still she has been well cared for. Look at 
 those plump little arms. She's not been starved, 
 that's sure." 
 
 They carried to the bedside of the sailor, a 
 delicate clam broth and a tender steak of venison, 
 but the sailorman ate sparingly, and even an un- 
 practiced eye could see he was in a high fever. 
 
 Mrs. Clarke thoughtfully carried the baby 
 girl to the bedside and laid her tenderly beside 
 the stricken man. 
 
 "Thank you sweet lady, I wanted to ask for 
 her but didn't know whether it was right or not. 
 My name, Ma'am, is Joseph DeSomer. I signed 
 head hunter on the whaler, Grace and Dell, and 
 held that position until this baby angel came in 
 to my life. The Eskimo that saw the wrecking 
 of the ship on which this baby and her mother 
 were passengers said the baby was the sole sur 
 vivor. That walrus skin sack you found about 
 my neck was fastened to the body of the child's 
 dead mother. You will find writings and trinkets 
 belonging to her, also quite a sum of French Mon 
 ey. The dead mother's name was Jessie Fuguay. 
 according to the writings and this dear little
 
 THE STORM'S GIFT 25 
 
 thing had been given the name Charlotte, in her 
 writings, she calls her little Lottie." 
 
 His hoarseness had so increased by this 
 time that it was difficult to hear his words. As 
 he struggled for air to fill his congested lungs. 
 Soon the exhausted man slept, and Mrs. Clarke, 
 lifted tenderly the little waif from his side, and 
 carried it before the broad fireplace of the living 
 room. 
 
 "Alice, where is your sister Nellie?" 
 
 "Oh mother, she is with the boys down 
 aboard the wreck. The tide has left the ship high 
 and dry, but say mother, who could the little 
 thing belong to. Was her mother aboard the 
 wrecked ship?" 
 
 "Not this ship, Alice, but another one, way 
 up on the coast of Alaska." 
 
 "Can I hold her now mother? My arms just 
 ache for her." 
 
 "Why certainly, child, you will have to hold 
 her a great many times before she is old enough, 
 or strong enough to take care of herself." 
 
 "What does Hughie think of her ma?" 
 
 "Hughie is almost a baby himself, Alice. He 
 is greatly disappointed that she is a girl. He 
 was so sure it was a boy, he had already named 
 her Sammy, and was planning many good times, 
 and adventures as Sammy grew older. For he 
 says "he's mine, didn't I cut him loose?"
 
 26 THE STORM'S GIFT 
 
 "Oh Mother Alice ,you ought to come 
 down, and see all the nice things there are on 
 the big ship," the speaker was a girl about four 
 teen years of age, with two massive braids of 
 dark brown hair hanging down her back. 
 
 "What do you mean by nice things?" in 
 quired her sister. 
 
 "Oh dishes and books, and a clock, Alice. A 
 clock with a wood bird that makes a noise like 
 a pigeon, Alice," she cried, "let me have that 
 baby." 
 
 "I aint only had her a few minutes Jennie." 
 
 "Well you have got to give her to me, next. 
 I haven't held her yet." 
 
 A loud groan came from the suffering sailor 
 and Mrs. Clarke rushed to his side. 
 
 "What is it my poor man," inquired Mrs. 
 Clarke. 
 
 "Lady," spoke the sailor, "will you have your 
 man come to me? I have a story to tell before 
 it is too late." 
 
 "Can't you wait until you are better?" in 
 quired Mrs. Clarke. 
 
 "I will never be better, dear lady, I can feel 
 the end coming on." 
 
 Lizzie sent Alice to bring her husband from 
 the wreck, while she busied herself preparing a 
 soothing tea for the sufferer.
 
 THE STORM'S GIFT 27 
 
 In a few minutes Martin Clarke was seated 
 by the bedside of the dying sailor. The sun had 
 burst through the clouds and the birds near the 
 garden window were chanting their welcome in 
 song.
 
 28 THE STORM'S GIFT 
 
 Chapter II 
 The Sailor's Story. 
 
 The sailor was attacked with a violent spell 
 of coughing that brought a frothy blood colored 
 foam from his lips. After the spasm subsided, 
 he had Martin raise his head on the pillows, and 
 spoke as follows: 
 
 "Part of what I am about to tell you, Mr. 
 Clarke, I had never expected to confide to any 
 man, but my time is close at hand and I can 
 never myself realize the dreams I had so fondly 
 hoped to some day realize. My father was a fair 
 ly well to do minister of the gospel. My mother 
 was very devout in her religious beliefs, and had 
 set her heart on making a minister of me. I may 
 as well say that a boy of my roving disposition 
 did not take kindly to this plan, and as soon as 
 I gained courage enough I ran away and shipped 
 cabin boy aboard a Sealer. I have followed the 
 sea ever since I was seventeen years old. Making 
 much money and saving none. I am too weak to 
 waste time on further detail, save that I signed 
 chief hunter of the Grace anfl Dell two years ago 
 at Sidney, Australia. What's left of the vessel 
 lies piled on the beach at your door." 
 
 "After leaving Sidney, we sailed in a north 
 easterly direction for many days. The weather
 
 THE STORM'S GIFT 29 
 
 was clear and fair winds gave us good headway, 
 until we arrived near the Equinox where we be 
 came becalmed, for twenty days not a breath of 
 wind stirred. A heavy tropical fog hung over the 
 sea like a sodden pall. We lost all reckonings as 
 to position of the vessel. The drift was heavy. 
 On the twenty-second day of the calm a wind 
 sprung up from the southwest. It was only a 
 sailing breeze, and did not lift the fog. For four 
 days and nights we sailed blindly on. A great 
 desire was in our hearts to sail out of the gloomy 
 pall. On the fifth day, the fog cleared but no sun, 
 as was the case for days after, our chronometer 
 had become defective and a shot at the sun would 
 not have given us our exact location. The weath 
 er was warm and balmy. A few days later a 
 flock of sea birds over head gave us notice that 
 we were not far from land. On the morning of 
 July 18th, we sighted land. An island: but what 
 island could it be. We had not taken the sun or 
 figured reckonings for thirty-eight days. 
 
 Where were we? Evidently somewhere in 
 the tropics, but the tropics are a large area of 
 land and water. On the morning of July 19th, 
 we dropped anchor off the entrance of a large 
 bay. The boats were lowered and I with the 
 first mate and four sailors pulled ashore. 
 
 No trace of human habitation met our gaze. 
 No tell tale spiral of smoke arose before us. In 
 the glistening sands the hoofs and paws of many
 
 30 THE STORM'S GIFT 
 
 animals had left their script, but no human foot 
 print, greeted our eyes. 
 
 The bushes bordering the beach were bowed 
 down with luscious fruits. The trees towering 
 above our heads, were laden with nuts and rare 
 tropical fruits. Everywhere gorgeous flowers 
 mingled their scents with the music of song birds. 
 We hastily loaded our boat with fruits and vege 
 tables and returned to the ship. 
 
 The Master decided to accompany us on our 
 second trip, and two more dories were lowered 
 into the water and the entire ship's company went 
 ashore." 
 
 Another severe spell of coughing attacked 
 the sailor, and Martin busied himself preparing 
 a mixture for the doomed man that gave him 
 temporary relief. 
 
 "I haven't time to tell you of the beauty of 
 this island, dear friends," he resumed, "only that 
 we stayed there two weeks. On the third day of 
 our visit, the great tropical sun shone forth, but 
 as the entire ships company was ashore, and the 
 instruments were aboard the vessel, we did not 
 get our bearings. In fact the sun shone brightly 
 all the rest of our stay on the island. The skipper, 
 careless of the conditions, neglected taking a 
 shot at the sun, and woe to us, the day we return 
 ed to the ship, the fog descended again. 
 
 Wje had stored the vessel with fresh water, 
 and all the delicacies a tropical climate so lavishly 
 supplies. The island Was the most beautiful
 
 THE STORM'S GIFT 31 
 
 spot I had ever beheld in all my travels. Great 
 veins of coal cropped out along the beach. A 
 writhing vein of native copper traced its way 
 across the face of a massive rock headline 
 in fact Mr Clarke, the country is an earthly par 
 adise. Why it has not been discovered before 
 and inhabited is a mystery to me. But there it 
 lies, Mr Clarke, awaiting a claimant. Had I have 
 lived to reach my home port, I should with a few 
 chosen friends, fitted out a vessel and returned to 
 make the island my future home, and spent my 
 days in ease, and comfort. As it is I am telling 
 you that if you wish you may take advantage of 
 this heaven on earth. We left the island the fol 
 lowing day, steering for a point eastward, ever 
 hoping to bring up somewhere on the coast of 
 Mexico or California. But when we sighted land, 
 we found that we were near the entrance of Uni- 
 mac Pass, a point in the Alutian Islands. 
 
 Twas there, it was my good fortune to rescue 
 the sweet baby there in your daughter's arms. 
 The boat that carried the mother and babe, came 
 ashore the day we dropped anchor at Dutch Har 
 bor. The Eskimo had only lifted the baby from 
 the dead mother's breast when I came on him. 
 He gladly handed me the child, but seemed re 
 luctant to part with the walrus skin sack, that 
 contains her writings and treasure. A tobacco 
 pipe and small portion of rum changed his atti 
 tude in the matter. 
 
 As I took the sweet little angel in my arms,
 
 32 THE STORM'S GIFT 
 
 she clutched at the opening in my shirt front, 
 and glued her tiny pinched lips to my bronzed 
 breast. Even a rough sailor like myself, knew 
 what that meant, and I lost no time in securing a 
 supply of caribou milk from a native. The poor 
 famished little creature needed no teaching to 
 learn that food was in the rough spoon. From 
 the first she swallowed the milk and smacked her 
 sweet little lips as she lay in my arms and gazed 
 in my face with those great blue eyes. What 
 would the skipper say when I returned to the ship. 
 Surely I was in a dilemma, but a glance in those 
 lovely blue eyes decided me. Whither I went, 
 the baby would go also. Securing a supply of 
 Reindeer milk I returned to the ship. I will not 
 repeat the ridicule I listened to for days, while 
 most of the ship's company were good hearted 
 fellows, the seeming ridiculous position I had 
 placed myself in, was too much to forego. They 
 called me everything from little Nancy, to a wet 
 nurse. How Was I to take care of the baby and 
 pursue my vocation as a dory captain. There was 
 only one thing left for me to do, and that was to 
 change places with the ship's cook, the lowliest 
 position on board the ship. This I proposed to 
 Hans, the cook, and he gladly accepted the 
 change, saying 'you will pe handy ven de baby 
 vakes up and vants to nurse'." 
 
 "Hans," I questioned, "do you think it is right 
 to make sport of that motherless baby's condi 
 tion?"
 
 ALICE CLARKE
 
 THE STORM'S GIFT 33 
 
 "Vy, Joseph, I dondt made fun. Der poys 
 says dey ust vant make little fun mit you. All 
 der poys would gif their lifes for der little ting." 
 
 "I am glad to hear that Hans," I replied, "it 
 makes my sacrifice easier." 
 
 "Before I had exhausted the supply of Rein 
 deer milk, we had a great mother whale lashed 
 to the side of the Grace and Dell. Do you know 
 it is difficult to distinguish whale's milk from 
 cows milk. Well during our entire cruise, I was 
 supplied with milk from God's greatest creatures, 
 to feed one of God's tinniest beings. The novelty 
 of the baby's presence of course, never wore off, 
 but soon every member of the crew from the 
 Captain down learned to love her. My greatest 
 trouble was to keep them from filling her mouth 
 with all kinds of treasured delicacies, such as 
 candy two years old, and wedding cake, twenty. 
 Before the first ten days had elapsed, Hans came 
 to me and offered me back my position on the 
 dory saying he could look after the little Frau- 
 lein as well as I. The wee thing gave me little 
 trouble. The galley fire was always alight, and 
 I served the little guest with warm meals day 
 and night. Oh! if I could only live to see her 
 grow up." 
 
 Again he was seized with a spasm of cough 
 ing and raised much blood. I never like to think 
 of his end. Lizzie had laid the baby beside him, 
 and I believe few mothers could have shown great-
 
 34 THE STORM'S GIFT 
 
 er love than this rough sailor bore for the little 
 waif. 
 
 It was a glorious sunny afternoon, that we 
 laid to rest the remains of Joseph DeSomer. 
 The redwood fence about his grave on Yaquina 
 John point, still marks the resting place of the 
 great hearted sailor. 
 
 Much of the ships stores had been salvaged 
 by the Clarkes and their neighbors, and the Grace 
 and Dell rested easily on the smooth shingle as 
 she would in her native element. Nothing was 
 heard from the remainder of the crew who had 
 abandoned the ship off Yaquina Bay Harbor, al 
 though they were picked up later, by a revenue 
 cutter, and landed at San Francisco. 
 
 The Marine Underwriters sent in a man to 
 view the ship, and he decided she could not be 
 salvaged. He kindly allowed the residents to keep 
 the supplies they had saved. So the wreck was 
 a complete loss to the Insurance Company. 
 
 Summer was at its height. The native song 
 birds, filled hill and dale with their glad praise. 
 The flowers scattered their scents lavishly. The 
 small streams teemed with gamy trout, and the 
 rocks and flats were alive with mussels and clams. 
 There was little excuse for hard labor, and in 
 fact little hard labor was performed. The sea 
 cast up the firewood in broken fragments, wild 
 game roamed about the fields ; shell fish of many 
 varieties were inexhaustible. Then why should 
 they spoil their life with hard labor.
 
 THE STORM'S GIFT 35 
 
 The Clarke and William's men folks had just 
 returned from the forests with the hams of three 
 bull elks. The women folks were arranging the 
 spruce shake platforms on which to dry the meat 
 in the sweetening sun. 
 
 A big spelling bee had been arranged for the 
 evening and people from Florence and the Ya- 
 chats were to be present. Some of the older 
 folks estimated that there would be as many as 
 thirty present at the big doings. The young 
 folks were impatient with eager expectancy of 
 what the night would bring forth. Mrs. Clarke 
 and Mrs. Williams hal made great plates of pastry 
 for the evening feast. This was made possible 
 by a recent trip of the Williams boys who had 
 packed a sack of flour on their shoulders through 
 the mountains from Corvallis. A distance of one- 
 hundred and five miles. Nothing was left to make 
 the happiness of the little community complete.
 
 36 THE STORM'S GIFT 
 
 Chapter III 
 The Land Voyage. 
 
 Let the reader go back with me seven years, 
 and view with me the former home of our hero, 
 Hugh Clarke. His parents had originally come 
 from Ohio, but his father ever of a roaming na 
 ture soon tired of his surroundings, be they ever 
 so pleasant and profitable. He had formed a deep 
 friendship for Gus Williams and family, and the 
 two men could most always be found together 
 whether hunting or tilling the fields. Williams 
 had first sailed before the mast, and after years 
 as a sailor, and mate, had been made master of 
 a vessel making trips as far south as South 
 America. 
 
 Only the great love he bore his wife could 
 ever persuade him to quit the sea. 
 
 On a dark and sultry morning after a half 
 hurricane had visited the neighborhood, during 
 the night, Gus Williams knocked at the Clarke 
 door. 
 
 "Come in Gus," sang out Martin Clarke 
 cheerily from his corner by the fireplace, and as 
 the neighbor entered, Clarke soon discovered by 
 the frown on his face that something had gone 
 wrong. "Morning, Gus old boy, how goes it?" 
 
 "Morning Martin. I am surprised to see
 
 THE STORM'S GIFT 37 
 
 anything alive on the place. The damned wind 
 blew down our cow stable and killed Ellen's fav 
 orite cow, Old Molly." 
 
 "Aint that too bad," spoke up Mrs. Clarke. 
 "I'm so sorry for your wife. She thought so 
 much of old Mollie." 
 
 "Yes and she had twin calves again this 
 spring," said Williams. "And I tell you Martin," 
 he continued, "you can stay in this storm infested, 
 fever heated, frost bitten, God forsaken country 
 if you want to. I am for the sea coast. Don't 
 care what sea coast only its got to be salty and 
 the climate not so extreme in its changes. Why 
 dang it, Martin, our thermometer glass is worn 
 out by friction of the mercury bobbing up and 
 down to keep pace with the seasons." 
 
 "You'll think better of it in a few days, Gus, 
 you know such accidents are called 'acts of God,' 
 and you would not be angry with God would you, 
 Gus?" 
 
 "Now look here, Martin, don't you go laying 
 the butchering of my cow onto God. It's just that 
 allfired Iowa climate that killed her, and it will 
 kill the whole caboodle of us if we stay here 
 long enough. Milt Fleatcher has a brother that 
 has just come back from California where he 
 has been mining and ranching. He says there 
 are thousands of acres of vacant land lying along 
 the Oregon coast that is covered with milk and 
 honey, to say nothing of game and fish and a 
 climate that people live so long in, that lots of 
 
 281192
 
 38 THE STORM'S GIFT 
 
 them, when the Judgement day comes, will have 
 to be shot cause they will never die a natural 
 death." 
 
 "Now look here Gus, what does your wife 
 say about another move?" 
 
 "My wife, she just naturally said to me, 
 when she saw poor little Mollie all bleeding and 
 crushed, that she wouldn't stay here another sum 
 mer, or winter either, for all that, I suppose your 
 boys would like another move." 
 
 "Boys are crazy to go to the sea, never saw 
 salt water in their lives. The girls are as anxious 
 as the boys. Fact is, Martin, we're going Martin, 
 we're going, and you're going too." 
 
 "Well I hadn't thought anything about it 
 Gus." 
 
 "Now Martin," spoke up his wife, "it was only 
 yesterday that you said you felt a spell of wander 
 lust coming on." 
 
 "It appears like you are taking rather kind 
 ly to the idea yourself, Lizzie." 
 
 "Well Gus, old boy, we'll think it over. Lizzie 
 get those canned peaches you said you was going 
 to send Mrs. Williams. You just as well make 
 Gus pack them home, because he'll eat his full 
 share of them. Reckon you won't get foundered 
 on peaches out in Oregon, when you get there 
 Gus." 
 
 "I wouldn't give a bucket of razor clams for 
 a wagon load of peaches," replied Gus. "All the 
 same, Mrs. Clarke's, peaches are pretty fine when
 
 THE STORM'S GIFT 39 
 
 there aint any clams in sight. And thank you 
 for them, I know that the wife and youngsters 
 will appreciate the gift. Mary got out a ham to 
 send over to you this morning but I was so riled 
 up over losing the cow, I walked off and left it. 
 I'll send Jack right back with it. Seems as though 
 there's nothing to eat here but hog meat. What 
 I want is crabs and oysters and a string of fresh 
 ocean trout." 
 
 "How many yoke of oxen have you now, 
 Gus?" 
 
 "Three cracken good yoke, and a pair of 
 young bulls. Want to buy oxen, Martin ?" 
 
 "No. Was just thinking if we was going to 
 Oregon, a few good ox teams might come handy." 
 
 "Glad to hear you talk that way Martin. 
 I knew you would go with us Pardner." 
 
 "I aint said I was going, have I", replied 
 Martin. "I generally leave such trifles as moving 
 two thousand miles to Lizzie." 
 
 "Shall I quote you a little scripture on the 
 matter, husband," his wife inquired. 
 
 "You and your scripture are law with me 
 Lizzie." 
 
 "Well then replied his wife," here it is, 
 'Whither thou goest, I will go, and where thou 
 lodgest, I will lodge. Thy people', and so on you 
 know the verse Martin. I think it so beautiful 
 Ruth and Naomi." 
 
 "Yes thats good scripture, Mr. Clarke. Guess 
 I'll be going and tell wife and the young fry that
 
 40 THE STORM'S GIFT 
 
 we'll all be ready to start by the first of August." 
 
 "First of August, Man, first of August, why 
 that is barely three weeks off!" 
 
 "I can turn my place back to Ashworth to 
 morrow, what little I've paid down, he's welcome 
 to. Aint you glad you didn't buy this grub patch 
 outright, Martin?" 
 
 "Wpll, I believe I am, Gus, since you mention 
 ed it. Think I'll drop over in the morning and 
 look at them steers of yours, they ought to be in 
 good shape now." 
 
 "Rolling fat, Martin, rolling fat, just pining 
 for a little trip like going to Oregon. Well, so 
 long! Martin, so long folks! See you tomorrow, 
 Martin," and before the front gate closed behind 
 Williams, Martin was pacing to and fro, back and 
 forth the length of the kitchen floor. 
 
 "I believe its a good idea* Lizzie, wife," spoke 
 up Martin, "it isn't as though you couldn't give 
 the children an education. There wasn't a pret 
 tier or smarter school ma'am in the State of Ohio 
 than you were when I made you give up your con 
 tract and marry me." 
 
 "And I've never been sorry since, Martin 
 dear." 
 
 "It does me good to hear you say it, sweet 
 heart." Martin was not lacking in affection for 
 his good, beautiful wife, and the look she gave 
 him amply repaid him for the endearing term he 
 had just applied to her.
 
 THE STORM'S GIFT 41 
 
 "Don't you think Martin, that baby Hugh is 
 pretty young for so long a trip?" 
 
 "If I thought so wife, I would not budge an 
 inch. Wasn't Clara Williams only three months 
 old when we left Delphos Ohio and a puny little 
 thing at that, and after our four months on the 
 way before reaching here, look what a fat, sassy 
 thing she was." 
 
 "That's so, Martin" replied Mrs. Clarke. "I do 
 believe the trip will be good for little Hughie." 
 
 "The next day Martin visited the Williams 
 Ranch. Mrs. Williams was one of those large 
 rawboned women, with a face, while severe, be 
 lied her temperament. She worshipped her hus 
 band, and lived for the pleasure and comfort she 
 gave her children. Although 'it was in the days 
 when spanking was popular, it was said she had 
 never laid the weight of her hand on one of her 
 children. As a cook, her fame had reached far 
 and wide, and her light biscuits and fried chicken 
 had served to bring many visitors from Tama 
 City, and other towns in the country who left 
 small gifts, as a token of their appreciation of the 
 banquets she laid before them, never daring to 
 insult her by offering pay. 
 
 "Well man, Martin," she greeted Clarke, 
 "how is the good Lizzie this morning?" 
 
 "Better than ever," replied he, "if that is 
 possible." 
 
 "You two are certainly in love with each oth 
 er," said Mrs. Williams.
 
 42 THE STORM'S GIFT 
 
 "She certainly did not marry me for my mon 
 ey, Mrs. Williams, as my entire capital on the eve 
 of our wedding day consisted of a pinto pony, and 
 seven dollars." 
 
 "Many a girl has married for less Martin, 
 and lived happy ever afterward." 
 
 "What's this your husband is talking of, this 
 trip west. What put it into his head, Mrs. Will 
 iams ?" 
 
 "Oh ! he lays it onto poor Mollie getting kill 
 ed, but I think he is glad of it in a way, as it 
 gives him an excuse to go to the seashore to live. 
 Poor man, it's been awful selfish of me not ta see 
 it before that the poor man is pining away for 
 salt water. Yes Martin, she continued, "We're 
 going, and Gus says you are going too." 
 
 "Well I've about made up my mind that this 
 climate isn't good for Lizzie." 
 
 "Why, Martin, is "Lizzie poorly? I hadn't 
 heard that she was ailing." 
 
 "Oh no she aint ailing now, but I thought she 
 might take sick if we stayed here too long." 
 
 "Now you Martin Clarke, don't you try to 
 lay it onto Lizzie. You know its yourself that's 
 longing for a change of pasture, and you know 
 that dear woman would follow you to the end of 
 the earth." 
 
 "Well Martin let's go and take a look at those 
 oxen. Did you ever shoe an ox Martin?" 
 
 "Shoe an ox, Gus who ever heard of shoeing 
 oxen."
 
 THE STORM'S GIFT 43 
 
 "You'll hear of it before we cross the rock- 
 ies. That box there beside the water barrel is 
 full of ox shoes. I aint let the grass grow under 
 my feet since I was over at your house. Abe 
 Evans wants to go with us, Martin, and Abe is 
 one of the best hunters in the country, and he 
 has three of the best saddle ponies in the state of 
 Iowa. His wife Nell is a true frontiers woman, 
 and would be a great help to our women folks. 
 What do you think about it?" 
 
 "The more the merrier," replied Martin. 
 
 The next three weeks, were the busiest ever 
 experienced by the Clarke party, so much was to 
 be thought of, the packing of clothing, and sup 
 plies, the collection of seeds, the choosing of a 
 couple of the best cows to take along for milk, 
 a coop of chickens. Some flowers, and shrubbery 
 from the gardens, canned fruits, and salt meats, 
 and when the five ox wagons were loaded, there 
 was little space left other than what was used for 
 the women and children. 
 
 It was a happy care free party that left the 
 weeping neighbor women standing in front of the 
 Clarke home on the morning of August 8. Iowa 
 in midsummer is ideal, barring a few hot days, 
 and the travelers resolved to take their time and 
 conserve the strength of their beasts of burden. 
 The first day they covered twenty-two miles, 
 and camped at night by a little river where the 
 rank grasses smothered the horses and oxen with 
 an over plentitue of feed.
 
 44 THE STORM'S GIFT 
 
 Bright and early next morning, our party 
 was on the way, and nothing of note occurred 
 during the westward journey until they reached 
 the Nebraska state line at Omaha. There one 
 of the oxen fell sick and the party was compelled 
 to purchase another at an exorbitant price as the 
 dealer realized their position took advantage of 
 it and charged almost two prices for the beast. 
 The Union Pacific Railroad had just been com 
 pleted to Ogden, Utah and our voyagers took ad 
 vantage of the fact by shipping such things as 
 would not be needed on the trip to that point. 
 
 The Ezra Meeker trail over the rocky mount 
 ains was to be the roughest part of the journey 
 and our friends decided they would be lucky if 
 they reached Ogden by fall and camp there for 
 the winter. In the meantime, baby Hugh was de 
 veloping into a fat rugged boy, always screaming 
 his delight at new scenes and wonders as they 
 passed through the towns and villages along the 
 route. Owing to his great long yellow curls and 
 wonderful childish beauty many took him for a 
 girl, and the look of disgust that shone in his 
 face as one kind of stranger would inquire of 
 Mrs. Clarke how old her sweet little girl was? 
 accounted for his peculiar antipathy for girl ba 
 bies displayed by him in our opening chapters. 
 From Fort Kearney Nebraska to the Wyoming 
 line great herds )of buffalo jsvere encountered. 
 The herds Were of such magnitude at times it 
 became necessary to stop the teams to allow them
 
 THE STORM'S GIFT 45 
 
 to cross the trail. Here our hunter, Abe Evans, 
 proved his usefulness by selecting and bringing 
 down the fattest young cows that supplied the 
 travelers constantly with the choicest wild meat 
 known to man. 
 
 It was later than usual on a Sunday evening 
 when Clarke called a halt for the day. The scene 
 was laid along a small mountain torrent in the 
 foot hills of the rockies. Everywhere the grass 
 and flowers were becoming bronzed and gray 
 with the dull lustre of autumn. 
 
 A great band of antelope only startled for a 
 time by the approach of the party, had settled 
 down to graze at a distance of less than a half 
 mile from the new made camp. Already the 
 tents had been set and the oxen and horses hob 
 bled. The women with the assistance of the men 
 were preparing a big feast of fresh wild meats. 
 The children were gathered together under a 
 large pinion pine, and were singing in union in 
 their lusty young voices. 
 
 "Oh my Poor Nellie Gray, They have taken 
 you away, 
 
 And I'll never see my Nellie any more, 
 
 They have taken you to Georgia, for to wear 
 your life away 
 
 Farewell to the old Kentucky shore." 
 
 Out from the falling twilight there came a 
 series of savage yells that stopped the song, and 
 brought fear and awe to the faces of the women, 
 and determination on the brows of the men. The
 
 46 THE STORM'S GIFT 
 
 Indians, for such they were, rode furiously into 
 the center of the camp. There were twelve in all, 
 large, strong young bucks. The leader a tall typi 
 cal Sioux Chief, slipped lightly from the back of 
 his pony, and with a guttural "How", extended 
 his hand to Clarke for a shake. Clarke met the 
 extended hand with his own and in the best words 
 known to him in the Sioux language, bid the visit 
 ors welcome. The warriors were not in war feath 
 ers or paint, and it was evident they had come on 
 the Clarke party by accident. After a short talk 
 the leader who showed signs of partial intoxi 
 cation demanded that the party give them their 
 horses, offering nothing in return for the animals. 
 At this Nlell Evans drew near to the center of the 
 group, and the gleam of fire in her eyes betokened 
 she was not taking kindly to the Indians proposal. 
 The Indians were all armed with rifles that were 
 modern at that time and to precipitate a fight 
 meant an unequal conflict that must mean dis 
 aster to our party. 
 
 Clarke had noticed the angry flash in Mrs. 
 Evans' eyes, and with much caution he managed 
 to keep her quiet, as he realized that discretion in 
 the matter meant everything to his party. The 
 Indians were well supplied with firewater pro 
 cured on a recent trip to Cheyenne, and time was 
 not improving their tempers. 
 
 Clarke had explained as best he could that a 
 loss of the ponies meant disaster to the party, 
 and he hoped to appease them with gifts, that
 
 THE STORM'S GIFT 47 
 
 could be better spared. This the Indians refused 
 to consider, and there seemed nothing left for the 
 party to do, but give up the horses to the red 
 thieves. 
 
 Nell Evans had left the group some time pre 
 vious and now to the surprise of all appeared in 
 their midst in a masquerade ball suit representing 
 the Spirit of Dawn. The Clarke and Williams 
 women folk had seen the attire but to the men 
 folks, Indians, and all, it came as a surprise from 
 heaven. She addressed the young Chief, in the 
 Sioux language, a feat not unusual for the border 
 frontiersman, as her family belonged to that 
 class. 
 
 With a majestic wave of her arms she com 
 manded silence. The awkward attitude and ges 
 tures of the young savages was proof that she 
 was regarded by them as a spirit. In silvery 
 words though firm and without emotion she spoke 
 as follows: 
 
 "Young Men ! Braves ! Warriors ! Of the great 
 Sioux Nation, I am Chelociti, your princess of 
 five hundred moons agone. The great chiefs of 
 the greatest nation fell at my feet in worship, 
 only your avowed act of robbing this poor band of 
 white people could call me so far from my temple 
 in the happy hunting ground to point out to you 
 the great wrong you propose to do these white 
 brothers who have not wronged you or yours in 
 passing through your country in search for a 
 home for their families on the shore of the Great
 
 48 THE STORM'S GIFT 
 
 Salt Chuck in the land of the Setting Sun. Your 
 forefathers are with me in the Happy Hunting 
 Grounds. Men who fought and killed to preserve 
 their lodges and rights, but knowing all that pass 
 es in life, though to you dead, they see your mis 
 take and have sent me to warn you not to rob this 
 people of their horses, as there are squaws and 
 pappooses amongst them, and the winter ap 
 proaches, and taking from them their cayuses 
 means hunger and death to all you who should be 
 brave warriors. Heed the word of the spirit of 
 Chelocti, and many great favors shall befall you, 
 Braves of the Sioux Nation. Chelocti has spoken." 
 
 For a moment all stood with bowed heads, 
 the travelers at what would be the outcome of 
 Mrs. Evans' ruse, the young Indians, seemed 
 deeply impressed and about to accede to the wish 
 es of Mrs. Evans. 
 
 At this a heavily built young Indian stepped 
 to the front. It was evident he had been drink 
 ing heavily. His words fell from his lips in a 
 drunken mumble, and Clarke on closer inspection 
 detected a ring of white flesh peeping above his 
 tanned skin shirt. It was evident he was a white 
 man of the type of squaw men so frequently found 
 in those days living the life of an Indian from 
 choice. And responsible for much of the deviltry 
 performed by their red comrades. 
 
 "Brothers", spoke up the disguised white 
 man "we will take the pale faces horses, then if 
 the spirits of the Red Man's forefathers are dis-
 
 THE STORM'S GIFT 49 
 
 pleased they will send us a token, and we can re 
 turn them. It is only right we should have fur 
 ther proof that the spirit Chelocti comes from our 
 forefathers." 
 
 After little further parley the saddle horses 
 of the travelers were rounded up and their hobbles 
 removed and the party of redskins with smiles 
 and rough jests left the party with the confiscated 
 horses. 
 
 "Clarke!" spoke up Evans, "Are you going 
 to let that damned bunch of red skins steal my 
 horses without an effort to save them?" 
 
 "Never mind, Abe," spoke up Nell Evans, 
 "I think I have a plan to get the horses back." 
 
 "What is it Nell?" inquired her husband. 
 
 "Oh you just wait until the hour of twelve 
 tonight." 
 
 "Why wait, Nell?" 
 
 "Well, replied his wife, "it is the Indians Mys 
 tery hour." 
 
 At this Charley Clarke stepped into view and 
 informed his hearers that the band of red skins 
 had camped for the night some two miles up the 
 stream. It seems he had followed them with 
 the idea of formulating some plan in which to re 
 cover the horses. 
 
 "Now I want you men folks to leave this 
 matter of getting the horses back all to me," said 
 Mrs. Evans. "I know more of the Sioux nature 
 than all of you others placed together. I suppose 
 you don't know that my father was Indian agent
 
 50 THE STORM'S GIFT 
 
 at Fort Fred Steele for six years. And if it hadn't 
 of been for that white devil with them, my first 
 ruse would have saved the stock as it is, I will 
 make the whole bunch pay the penalty with their 
 lives. It is the only way to make real good In 
 dians anyway." 
 
 "How is that? Nell." inquired Abe. 
 
 "By making them dead Indians." replied his 
 wife. 
 
 "I suppose you will challenge a dozen drunk 
 en braves to mortal combat with swords," sneer- 
 ingly spoke her husband. 
 
 "Where is that ten pound can of rifle pow 
 der?" inquired his wife. "Get the powder and 
 about two feet of fuse. Insert the fuse in the 
 can, that's all you need do, then trust the rest 
 to me." 
 
 "Do you think I am going to let you go 
 amongst that band of thieving murderers?" 
 spoke up her husband. 
 
 "Of course you will or my plans will be a 
 failure." "You see", continued Nell, "the Indians 
 were all impressed and the white man is half con 
 vinced, for how could an Indian Princess Spir 
 it appear to them accompanied by a band of white 
 men?" 
 
 "No Ike, I go alone, but will return with the 
 pintos and also choose a few of their best ponies 
 for interest and trouble over the deal." 
 
 Evans was reluctant to let Nell go, but as she 
 consented to let him go part way and wait for her,
 
 THE STORM'S GIFT 51 
 
 they left the group about the fire. Evans with 
 the powder can on his shoulder, and Nell at his 
 side masked and garbed as before as the spirit 
 of dawn. 
 
 The trail was new to them, leading beside the 
 miniature mountain torrent. The scent of au 
 tumn was about. The stars had formed a chorus 
 of jingling twinkle. The great rocky mountain 
 moon had placed its forefoot on the first rung 
 of the ladder of the horizon. 
 
 "Look here Nell, I can't let you do this. You 
 brave little darling. Stop a moment here sweet 
 heart, under these heavenly diamonds. I must 
 feel you in my arms. I want to know you will 
 always be there, you brave little pardner. Let 
 the cussed horses go, Nellie dear, let 'em go, I 
 say. There isn't horses enough in the world to 
 pay me for a moments suspense. Come Nellie, 
 let's go back." The lover, husband emphasized 
 his plea with a hug and a lingering kiss that 
 would have been sufficient to change the mind 
 of most women. 
 
 "You dear old Ike, those hugs and kisses 
 are as good as ever, even improved with age, 
 but Isaac, Boy! there isn't the least chance of 
 danger. I know how to handle those superstitious 
 red villians, and I will place that squaw man 
 fiend where he will get an early reckoning for 
 doubting my authority from the Happy Hunting 
 Ground." "There is their camp fire, Ike, not a 
 quarter of a mile up the stream. You must not
 
 52 THE STORM'S GIFT 
 
 go further husband, dear or it may spoil all. Give 
 me a kiss my big brave lover, and wait here 
 until the spirit of the dawn returns." 
 
 Unmarried sweethearts who think they have 
 a monopoly on true parting kisses would have that 
 illusion dispelled could they have witnessed the 
 parting of Evans and his sweet wife Nellie. 
 
 She hadn't gone many rods on her way when 
 the crooning hum of a Sioux war song rang on 
 her ears. Nellie Evans had heard these gurgling 
 attempts at music many times in her early child 
 hood and was little affected by them. 
 
 On approaching the camp fire she skirted 
 about the band of braves until she reached a tall 
 pine tree right in their midst, as the war chant 
 ceased, she stepped before them in the full light 
 of the fire, as though she had descended from 
 heaven. 
 
 "The Great Spirit is angry with his Braves 
 and has sent me again to warn you." Before 
 Nellie had reached the camp fire of the Indians 
 she had stopped and hollowed out a little hole 
 about sixteen inches deep and large enough to 
 contain the can of powder. She now placed the 
 can of powder in the hole leaving the end of the 
 fuse at the surface. She then placed a few dry 
 leaves and twigs over the spot leaving the surface 
 of the ground natural. All about the country 
 abounded in small round boulders of Grey Gran 
 ite hurled or carried there by the rush of some
 
 THE STORM'S GIFT 53 
 
 swollen stream or distant volcano. Her prepara 
 tion had been swift and complete. 
 
 This second appearance of the princess's 
 Spirit at the Mystic Hour of midnight, had its 
 effect on the half sobered band. The white im 
 postor had little or nothing to say. As the dying 
 effects of the white man's fire water had unstrung 
 his nerves; and left him the ignorant coward he 
 was by nature. 
 
 "The Spirit of the Great Father asks me to 
 bring you proof of his displeasure," continued 
 Nellie. "At a little distance from here he has 
 commanded that you shall build a fire of pinion 
 pine boughs. When you have built an altar about 
 the fire of rounded rocks, and the moon reaches 
 just over the cedar on the left of the gulch, the 
 form and spirit of the Grand Father of Sitting 
 Bull will appear and give you council. Come 
 with me braves of the Sioux Nation that the spir 
 it of Chilocti may prove that her lips are not 
 stained with a lie." 
 
 With reluctant grunts the twelve half sober 
 ed Indians arose to their feet and followed the 
 fantastically garbed woman to the spot where 
 she had buried the can of rifle powder. 
 
 "It is here where the full moon will find a 
 trail for its rays, through the boughs of this great 
 hemlock, that the spirit of the great chief orders 
 you to build your fire and shrine. Gather the 
 fallen boughs of the mountain pinion and place
 
 54 THE STORM'S GIFT 
 
 them on this spot amongst the rounded stone 
 cast here by the evil spirit." 
 
 Soon a fire was blazing over the concealed can 
 and each was directed that he should place a half 
 dozen of the ball like stones at the rim of the fire 
 and as an individual shrine so that each might see 
 and hear for himself the message of the great 
 spirit. "It is ordered that I must retire," spoke 
 Chelocti, "as the great spirit doesn't permit the 
 presence of a squaw in his great councils." 
 
 She now withdrew a hundred paces and stood 
 behind a great alder, awaiting developments. The 
 time dragged slowly for her, and the savages 
 were beginning to complain they believed it a 
 hoax, when a roar of fury filled the canyon with 
 flame and smoke and granite balls. One of the 
 hardened stone cut a limb from the tree under 
 which Nellie was standing and it fell at her feet. 
 A scream of pain and terror arose from the dead 
 and dying red thieves, and as Nellie stepped from 
 her hiding place she ran into the arms of her 
 anxious husband. 
 
 "I couldn't wait any longer, Nellie girl, all 
 the horses and cattle on earth could not keep me 
 from you. But come wife, your trap has done 
 its work well. There isn't a groan left, they are 
 all good Indians now so come dearest, we will se 
 cure the horses and back to camp. You must 
 have sleep and rest." 
 
 On their arrival at the Clarke camp with the 
 horses they found all awake and anxiously await-
 
 THE STORM'S GIFT 55 
 
 ing the return of the Evans excepting the small 
 children. 
 
 Mrs. Clarke took Nellie Evans in her arms 
 and kissed her as only a mother knows how to 
 kiss another woman. 
 
 When it is known that Nellie Evans', father 
 mother and two brothers were slaughtered in cold 
 blood by the cruel Sioux Indians, and that she 
 herself had been captured and mistreated by the 
 hellish band, one can understand the brave wom 
 an had little scruples of visiting vengeance on the 
 murderous tribe. 
 
 It was a happy party that left the encamp 
 ment on the following morning. Thus far the 
 families had escaped sickness. A strange thing 
 as few those days crossed the mountains with 
 out an attack of mountain fever. Their trail 
 led over what was then and is still now the most 
 picturesque scenery in the United States, the 
 softened chime of the surging brooks mingled 
 with the glad song of wild birds. The air was 
 cool and bracing during the day it was warmed 
 and sweetened by the light mists of the forests 
 gorges. The soft warm breezes still had power to 
 kiss the mountain roses into bloom. Mountain 
 lion and bear were numerous, along the mountain 
 roads, and it was a constant source of worry to 
 the good women of the party to keep the children 
 from straying from the camps or wagons. As 
 either of the beasts in the late seasons are known
 
 56 THE STORM'S GIFT 
 
 to be savage and not adverse to making a meal 
 on human flesh. 
 
 Occasionally a squatter was found along the 
 creek bottoms who had hewn himself a garden 
 patch from the rich beaver dam loam, and here 
 vegetables and sometimes fresh fruits could be 
 procured for the asking. The hospitality of those 
 days now remains as a sweet memory, for, Alas! 
 how things have changed.
 
 THE STORM'S GIFT 57 
 
 Chapter IV 
 Paul Likens 
 
 The nights were growing colder and the days 
 were losing themselves in the early twilight 
 gloom. For whole weeks our travelers never ran 
 across a human. They were drawing near the 
 summit of the rockies. Fort Laramie on the 
 broad Laramie plains had attracted the travelers 
 for a days visit. Fort Fred Steel had made a 
 coal strike and quite a boom was on. Rawlins, 
 Wyo. was being talked of as a sight for the state 
 Penitentiary and was alive with politicians of 
 the day. Green River amongst the sage brush 
 and sand dunes was a favorite winter stop for 
 continental tourists, but our party decided to 
 push on to the Salt Lake country and pitch their 
 camp for the winter. The great forest meadows 
 of the Salt Lake Country, were still fresh with 
 feed for the beasts. And our travelers reached 
 Salt Lake City in the latter part of October some 
 what worn and jaded but in good health and 
 spirits. 
 
 Mormonism was at its heighth. Many mys 
 terious crimes were being committed. The Gen 
 tile element was sadly in the minority and laws 
 ruled by the Church have never been a success. 
 
 It was not uncommon for the father of a
 
 58 THE STORM'S GIFT 
 
 family to turn up missing especially if it was 
 known he was antagonistic to the Mormon faith. 
 And it was but a short time until the unprotected 
 family were forcibly drawn into the Mormon 
 Church, but much has been written on this sub 
 ject so I will hurry over the Clarke party in the 
 Mormon Capitol, and awake with them on a 
 bright May morning in 1871. The teams were 
 in excellent condition, the men had worked much 
 of the winter and the partially depleted funds 
 were much strengthened by the high wages paid 
 those willing to work. The yokes were on the 
 oxen, the saddle horses were bedecked in their 
 gayest blankets. The children were running 
 about in anxious expectancy of the early start. 
 Great triangles of wild geese filled the air over 
 head. The Northwest wind forcing them so 
 close to earth you could see their beady eyes, as 
 they gave and answered calls from their leaders. 
 
 "Those wild birds remind me of ourselves 
 Clarke," spoke up Williams, "They're on a great 
 journey with little knowledge of where they will 
 land." 
 
 "That's where you're wrong, Williams, those 
 birds know the exact spot on which they will 
 land. Perhaps last year was their first trip from 
 the nesting grounds in the Arctic. They have 
 much advantage over us, for instinct has taught 
 them that away from civilization there is little 
 danger from man and food never fails them. I
 
 THE STORM'S GIFT 59 
 
 love their care free nature, and roving disposi 
 tion." 
 
 "I love roast duck better," answered Will 
 iams, "so I will hunt up Evans and the dog and 
 we will light out ahead to the Alder Creek bluff 
 and bag a few of those fat specimens from the 
 green fields of the southern states. Let Willie 
 drive my team until you overtake me." 
 
 "Be you all goin' west ? I mean goin' further 
 west than this?", inquired a tall slim young fel 
 low that had just approached them. 
 
 "Well yes," answered Clarke, "We expect to 
 go west to the jumping off place in western Ore 
 gon, where the rising tide of the Pacific folds 
 over the shores of that great territory." 
 
 "Could you take along another man ? I got my 
 own hoss and saddle an' a clean roll of blankets, 
 and I ben workin' here all winter an' I got a fairly 
 scrumptious roll o' cash." 
 
 "Well I don't know friend, but what we 
 might consider an addition to our party of one. 
 Have you any special line of trade?" 
 
 "Oh yes," replied the stranger, "I'll trade 
 anything, trade my hoss or saddle, would swap 
 my blanket, but what I want most is to git out 
 to the big Ocean. I want to hear her bile." 
 
 "I didn't mean to inquire if you had any trad 
 ing stock, what I wanted to know if you worked 
 at any particular trade." 
 
 "Wall you see that new store buildin' over 
 there on the corner of Salt Lake Avenue? Wall
 
 60 THE STORM'S GIFT 
 
 I reckon I bilt that, thet is I laid it out and done 
 all the finishing work. Never learned the trade, 
 it jes come to me nachelly. All the folks in old 
 Virginnie put up an awful holler when I left. Said 
 I had a great future before me, but I got to pinin' 
 for the west. Kin I come along?" 
 
 This boy seemed like a godsend to Clarke 
 and without waiting to consult the other mem 
 bers of the party, he directed the young southern 
 er to take charge of Evans' team until they over 
 took Abe. 
 
 The road out of the valley of the great Salt 
 Lake, is on a gentle incline through patches of 
 sage brush and along fertile streams. At the 
 crossing on Alder Creek they found Evans with 
 a full score of fat geese, and the prospect of roast 
 goose for supper was assured. Evans and Will 
 iams were delighted with the acquisition of the 
 southern boy who gave his name as Paul Likens, 
 and a more willing young man, never joined any 
 party, and it gave the oldest Clarke girl, Alice, 
 an excuse to wear one of her best calicos for a 
 week. 
 
 There isn't much to write about between 
 Salt Lake and Pocatello, Idaho, and the scenery 
 from Pocatello to Baker City, Oregon is sage 
 brush, sage hens, and sand dunes. Who can por 
 tray the delight of the Clarke party as they 
 reached the banks of the glorious Columbia Riv 
 er, made famous in prose and song from the days 
 of Lewis and Clarke to the present time. Our
 
 THE STORM'S GIFT 61 
 
 party soon fell in with straggling teams, and oc 
 casionally they came across a small settlement of 
 pioneers hewing out the future great state of Ore 
 gon. Fish and game had never been scarce on 
 the entire trip, but here it was over abundant. 
 Already luscious fruits were bearing, and to say 
 the pioneers of the Oregon earlier history, suf 
 fered for food is to misrepresent conditions. 
 
 The boy Hugh had waxed fat and hearty on 
 the trip, and often walked for miles clasping the 
 hand of his favorite sister Alice, asking questions 
 that would puzzle a wiser head than his sister 
 Alice possessed. 
 
 "What do girls have long hair for, sis?" in 
 quired the boy. 
 
 "Oh I don't know, Hughie." 
 
 "Do girls like to kiss boys, Alice?" 
 
 "Why of course not, Hughie." 
 
 "Then why did you kiss that Paul Likens, 
 last night?" 
 
 "Why Hughie Clarke, I didn't kiss Paul Lik 
 ens. How dare you say such a thing." 
 
 "Don't people kiss when they put their 
 mouths together?" 
 
 "I didn't kiss him, Hughie. He kissed me, 
 brother." 
 
 "Don't girls ever kiss boys, Alice?" 
 
 "Oh, I suppose so, Hugh." 
 
 "Is a girl more ashamed than a boy, sister?" 
 
 "Oh stop, Hughie, your talk makes me tired."
 
 62 THE STORM'S GIFT 
 
 "Do girls pretend more than boys, Alice?" 
 "Pretend what?" 
 
 "Pretend they don't want to kiss, when they 
 do." 
 
 "Hughie I'll put you back in the wagon, if you 
 don't hush up." 
 
 "What does girls get married for Alice?" 
 
 "Because they are in love, brother." 
 
 "Are you in love Alice?" 
 
 "Now, Hugh you just get right into that 
 wagon. I'm tired of your silly talk. To think of 
 a boy of your age, not yet three years old, should 
 ask such questions. Who put such thoughts into 
 your head brother?" 
 
 "Well there's one thing sister. I'll never 
 marry no girl. Never. If I had a pair of pants 
 instead of this calico slip, I'd run off and kill bears 
 and Indians. Why don't mother cut off my long 
 hair, Alice?" And the baby boy prattled along 
 in talk far beyond his years it was plain to be 
 seen his boyish vanity had been rudely shocked 
 by being taken so often for a girl, in his calico 
 slips, and long curly hair. 
 
 Over the lurid wash of desert, flamed the 
 midday sun. A blaze of vivid scarlet was forming 
 in the southeast. Great waves of heated air came 
 over the desert trail. Now and then the curious 
 blaze in the west shut from view the heated sun. 
 Quickly a parching wind commenced to blow from 
 the south. The heated sand cut the faces of our
 
 THE STORM'S GIFT 63 
 
 travelers, like shot from a bird gun. The cattle 
 became unmanageable, and bellowed in their pain. 
 Not a tree or friendly rock was in sight to lend 
 refuge from the fiery blasts. Up to midnight 
 the great sand storm continued in its fury. When 
 just at daybreak the glorious rains of eastern 
 Oregon began to descend, coaxing back to life the 
 withered shrubbery of the Oregon desert, it was 
 the first Oregon rain ever experienced by our 
 party, and it lasted four days and nights. 
 
 Wild fruits and flowers showed their pleasure 
 in their ravishing colors and perfumes. 
 
 "They don't have the sand storm down by 
 the sea, Lizzie," quoth Martin. "Although it 
 rains quite often, during the winter months. Are 
 you sorry we are making the trip my good wife ?" 
 
 "Sorry Martin! Am I ever sorry to be with 
 you?" 
 
 "No I didn't mean that, Lizzie, Girl. I was 
 just thinking you might be homesick for the folks 
 left behind." 
 
 "I will never be homesick while I am with 
 my husband and children, Martin, and this grand 
 Columbia River, makes me forget everything but 
 you and the children." 
 
 The party camped near the Dalles, and sev 
 eral days were spent in catching the great royal 
 Chinook salmon of the spring run, the choicest 
 fish known to man. Our party captured several, 
 that weighed over sixty pounds each, and it was 
 with great reluctance the women gave up the
 
 64 THE STORM'S GIFT 
 
 camp, never dreaming that the nearer they drew 
 to the Ocean, the more plentiful the salmon 
 would be or they would not have loaded down 
 their moving larder with salt and pickled fish. 
 
 Less than ten days brought the Clarke party 
 to Portland, a village of considerable proportion 
 even at that time, and as the fall rains had not 
 yet started in, it was decided to continue the jour 
 ney to the sea-coast. A party of sportsmen had 
 just returned from Yaquina Bay, and Evans on 
 talking with them had learned much of the lay of 
 the country known now as Lincoln County, and 
 undoubtedly the most beautiful stretch of Ocean 
 frontage on the Pacific slope. The Alsea River 
 and the Yachats were the localities most favor 
 ably spoken of by the returned sportsmen, and 
 their praises of these localities caused Evans to 
 take Clarke and Williams into the town and intro 
 duce them to the hunters. After a half hours 
 talk it was decided by our party to head for the 
 coast at the mouth of Alsea Bay. 
 
 The road led through the famous Willamette 
 Valley to Corvallis, thence to Philomath. All 
 small settlements rather than villages, and thence 
 direct to the mountains, at the head of the fam 
 ous Alsea river, and only fifty miles to the Grand 
 old Pacific. 
 
 I will not take space to repeat the cries of 
 delight with which our party greeted each new 
 marvel in nature. There was nothing left to
 
 HUGH AND ABE
 
 THE STORM'S GIFT 65 
 
 charm the mind and soothe the soul of the oldest 
 to the youngest. In two more days, their journey 
 would be at an end. 
 
 Just before twelve o'clock noon on October 
 26, the Clarke party stuck an American flag in 
 the beach sands just south of the Alsea Bay, and 
 near the famous big stump, that stands out in the 
 Ocean beach alone, and mysterious. Many have 
 been the opinions expressed as to whence it came, 
 and of what kind of wood it is composed. It is 
 known the Siwash Indians worshipped it. And it 
 will be remembered that this is the big stump 
 mentioned in our first chapter.
 
 66 THE STORM'S GIFT 
 
 Chapter V 
 The Miser's Death. 
 
 "Whew aint it an awful jam, Nellie?" said 
 Alice Clarke to Mrs Evans, the evening of the do 
 ings and dance at Yachats. 
 
 "I should say it is, Alice. Ike has counted 
 them, there are twenty-eight grown people, be 
 sides the children. This is a larger crowd than 
 attended Mrs. Henman's funeral at Florence, and 
 there were people there from all over the coast." 
 
 "Be you goin' to be busy for a few minutes, 
 Alice?", inquired Paul Likens, "Ef ye aint, I'd 
 like ter have you walk over to the rocks with me 
 gal." 
 
 "Why all right Paul, I guess Kellie can spare 
 me," and as they left the huge log cabin, Paul 
 said: 
 
 "Alice, girl, I've follered you from Salt Lake 
 City, to the Pacific. I tried to do my duty by you, 
 and your people. I've only been alive gal, when 
 you have been in my sight. It is now over four 
 years, since my great love for you began. Still 
 you seem further from me than you did on that 
 starlight night when I kissed you, 'way back in 
 Idaho." 
 
 "Yes, and Hughie caught you at it, and threw 
 it up to me the next day."
 
 THE STORM'S GIFT 67 
 
 "Alice dear, you must know of my great love, 
 I must know my fate, tonight. I can't bear to 
 see you dancing with that Jack Fletcher. I know 
 he is better educated than I, but your mother has 
 taken great pains with me, and I never say 
 'youall', any more, Alice. Can't you love me a 
 little?" 
 
 The girl stood there shrouded in the purple 
 wine of mellow thought, she knew she had long 
 cared for this southern genius, but she was re 
 luctant to see the closing of his quaint wooing. 
 
 "Oh Alice! Alice! Come here, Mart Hartley 
 has just arrived, and says old Miser Norton's 
 house was burned, and poor old Norton was in the 
 house. Hartley says it's clear Norton was mur 
 dered for his money as everybody knows he had 
 thousands and thousand of dollars. Why Alice," 
 continued Nellie, "he cleared up over forty thous 
 and dollars in dust from that pocket hole at the 
 big stump." 
 
 "Oh My," replied Alice, "such things make 
 me shudder, it will spoil the bee and dance." 
 
 "It won't spoil my supper," replied Hartley, 
 a new comer in the community, and a fellow who 
 had turned several scaly tricks at Newport and 
 the Siletz. 
 
 As Alice, had predicted, the unusual catas 
 trophe of the burning of the Miser, and his house, 
 had thrown a gloom over the party, and little 
 dancing and less spelling took place that night. 
 
 It was well known that Norton had his treas-
 
 68 THE STORM'S GIFT 
 
 ure buried on the place, and most people believed 
 it to be in his strongly built log house. All the 
 men folk had left for the scene of the fire, and 
 for hours the dry logs were a heated mass of coals 
 and flame. 
 
 Nothing was saved, but the stables and out 
 buildings, and it was several days before they 
 discovered particles of human bone and skull 
 positive proof that Norton had been a victim of 
 the fire. 
 
 The sheriff from Corvallis, had been advised 
 of the death and lost treasure, and after several 
 days of investigation, placed young Hartley under 
 arrest for the crime, and took him back to Cor 
 vallis to stand trial for the murder and robbery 
 of old man Norton. Dilligent search could find 
 no relatives of the dead man, and later it was 
 learned he had come from Australia, where he 
 had left a reputation that almost made him de 
 serve his awful fate. 
 
 Little Lottie, the pride of the Williams fam 
 ily, was now nearly three years old. Her childish 
 beauty was the talk, and marvel of the coast folk. 
 She was much further advanced in learning 
 than children of today, who are not started to 
 school until they are five or six years old. Little 
 Lottie could count, and repeat her A. B. C's. She 
 could sing little folk ballads, but her greatest 
 pleasure was following about after the boy Hugh, 
 who could never forgive her for being a girl.
 
 THE STORM'S GIFT 69 
 
 The trial of Hartley in the spring term of 
 court, was a great legal battle. He was well sup 
 plied with money, a fact that went against him, 
 although he declared he had never set eyes on 
 old man Norton, or his money, he explained he 
 had won much money at Astoria, and later this 
 was proven a fact. As his general reputation 
 was bad, and as he had few friends, it isn't 
 strange that a jury found him guilty of murder 
 in the second degree. He had long suffered from 
 trouble, and during the winter he died with pneu 
 monia. Thus ended the chapter of one of Ore- 
 gons early gamblers and sports. 
 
 In the course of a year, the incident was al 
 most forgotten, save an occasional conjecture of 
 what had become of Nortons fortune as Hartley's 
 dying declaration that he was innocent of the 
 crime convinced many that such was the case. 
 
 The boy Hugh was now a sturdy lad of thir 
 teen, large for his age, strong and lithe in every 
 movement. He could out jump, out run, out box, 
 any boy for miles around up to sixteen years of 
 age. His eye was clear, and his aim as deadly as 
 that of Daniel Boone. Abe Evans, had long since 
 given up the thought that he could teach the boy 
 anything about hunting or trapping, and at the 
 turkey matches, the local sports talked freely
 
 70 THE STORM'S GIFT 
 
 of barring him from the sports, for as Link Cole 
 declared, "it's too dum one sided. That air Clarke 
 youngster is jes a bunch of hair springs and dead 
 centers." 
 
 Little Lottie regarded him as her Monarch 
 in her childish worship. He had chided her many 
 times for being a girl, and Lottie had begun to 
 regard the matter much in the same light that 
 her hero did, altho' but six years of age at this 
 time she was adept at fishing and a great lover of 
 pets, her menagerie consisted of a pair of young 
 wild cats, a cub bear, and a fawn. She would have 
 had many more had the Clarkes permitted it, so 
 she was content to follow Hugh about the woods 
 and beach, her entire pet family following her 
 wherever she went. It was a pretty and amusing 
 sight to meet this splendid boy and lovely flaxen 
 haired girl followed by their pets, on a mountain 
 trail. Such was the experience of Jonas Alden a 
 government Indian agent who was on a tour of 
 inspection of the Oregon Coast tribes one of 
 which was located at the mouth of the Yachats. 
 
 The children knew little fear of strangers, 
 and as Jonas Alden advanced with extended hand 
 and a smile, the boy Hugh took it and with a 
 squeeze that made the City man wince, bid him 
 "Welcome." then added, "This is Lottie, she is a 
 girl. I didn't know it at first, but when I found 
 it out, it was too late to put her back." 
 
 "Put her back, why? How do you mean," 
 inquired Mr. Alden.
 
 THE STORM'S GIFT 71 
 
 "Oh back in the water, where I got her." 
 
 "Then she's not your sister?" inquired Mr. 
 Alden. 
 
 "Of course she aint. My sisters are great 
 big girls, about as tall as I am, and always scold 
 ing me about something. Alice, that's the one 
 of them is married, She married a fellow that 
 followed her from Salt Lake City to the furthest 
 point west of Cape Perpectua. My but they were 
 silly. Like to see myself kissing a girl. Paul 
 Likens, that's the fellow, he kissed her before 
 we had went four hundred miles. That 's them 
 that lives in that house back yonder. They've 
 got a baby. Ugh ! it's a girl. Wonder why there 
 couldn't be a boy drop around once in a while." 
 
 "\\fell but young man," spoke up Jonas 
 Alden, "you wouldn't want this pretty little crea 
 ture with her family of pets, to be a boy would 
 you?" 
 
 "I'd give the sights off of my new rifle if 
 she was a boy. Not but what she can get around 
 pretty good for one of her size. But I can't abide 
 her hair. I had a mop of hair like that once and 
 that was enough on the hair question to do me 
 a life time. Why! that girls hair has lost me 
 hours and hours of fishing waiting for mother 
 and the girls to comb it." 
 
 "You haven't told me your name, yet SOP " 
 inquired Mr. Alden. 
 
 "Oh, my ,name is Hugh Clarke, and she 
 pointing to the little girl, is Lottie. Lottie Fu-
 
 72 THE STORM'S GIFT 
 
 guay, She calls my pa Daddy same as the other 
 girls does, and Ma, why she calls Ma, Mama just 
 as though I didn't find her and ought to be 
 her mother and father and all." 
 
 "Find her!" exclaimed the now much inter 
 ested stranger, "how did you find her?" 
 
 "She was tied fast to a sailor man from the 
 wreck." 
 
 "It must be near dinner time, children," 
 spoke up Mr. Alden, "and I am anxious to see your 
 Father. I wish to arrange with him to take over 
 the Indian Agency at this place." 
 
 "Aint nothing but Siwashes here, and they 
 can't fight or shoot. I don't think Pa will want to 
 bother with them at all. Once a band of Indians 
 stole all his horses, and he aint much in love with 
 redskins." 
 
 Martin Clarke met the children and stranger 
 at the door. The pets kept a distance, and be it 
 noticed that a wild animal ever so tame, they are 
 always shy of strangers. Mr. and Mrs. Clarke 
 offered the stranger a glad welcome, and soon he 
 was seated at the table enjoying the fish and wild 
 game together with the fruits and dainties pre 
 pared by Mrs. Clarke's skilled hands. 
 
 "Mr. Clarke! you have been recommended 
 to me as just the proper person for Indian Agent 
 here. The salary is eight hundred dollars per 
 year, and the duties light. I hope you will find it 
 convenient to take over the position as it will 
 simplify my visit here, as I am anxious to con-
 
 u 
 
 
 
 
 
 w
 
 THE STORM'S GIFT 1$ 
 
 tinue my trip to Florence to appoint an agent 
 there, where I understand there are a larger band 
 of Indians located." 
 
 Clarke never quite did anything without con 
 sulting Lizzie, and before the meal was ended, 
 the thought of eight hundred dollars yearly, 
 decided them and Martin Clarke was armed with 
 proper credentials that made him a government 
 Indian Agent with many prerogatives. 
 
 While enjoying their after dinner pipe, Jonas 
 Alden, inquired of Mr. Clarke the particulars of 
 the girl Lottie. 
 
 "Well", replied Clarke, "it sounds almost like 
 a novel story. Our boy Hugh was watching that 
 ships hull yonder, on the beach the morning she 
 was wrecked. The boys and I and our girl Alice, 
 were up at the big stump when a sailor washed 
 ashore, with a baby girl lashed to him. Our boy, 
 Hugh, cut the child free from the sailor believing 
 he was drowned. He carried the tiny thing to 
 the house where Lizzie, that's my wife, brought 
 the dear little thing back to life. I later discover 
 ed the sailor and resuscitated him, but he only 
 lived long enough to tell his story, and a little of 
 the baby's history." 
 
 Mr. Alden begged Clarke to repeat the story 
 and at the conclusion, of the narrative, Mr Alden, 
 exclaimed ; 
 
 "I know that child's father, and grand Bar 
 ents. They live in Washington, D. C. Mr. Fu- 
 quay is a French Diplomat at Washington. The
 
 74 THE STORM'S GIFT 
 
 ship on which they sailed for America was blown 
 far south and wrecked in a midnight storm. He 
 became separated from his wife, and baby, and 
 the boat on which he was placed, was picked up by 
 a merchantman, and landed in New York Oiiy. 
 It is evident a whaler must have picked up his 
 wife and baby, and after rounding the cape, 
 wrecked then at last on the Alutian Islands." 
 "I believe it my duty, Mr. Clarke, to take the 
 child to her father. He is wealthy and a highly 
 respected French official. You can readily se j 
 you can not do justice to the child here." 
 
 At this juncture the boy Hugh spoke up, 
 
 "She's a girl all right, but she's mine, I cut 
 her loose from the sailor. As I said before, she's 
 a girl, but I'm going to keep her." 
 
 "Now son," spoke up Mr. Clarke, "you c!-n't 
 understand the situation, Little Lottie's father is 
 wealthy, and can give her an elegant home, a 
 good education, and all the things one of her sta 
 tion requires. You would not be so selfish as to 
 deprive her of all this would you Hughie ?" 
 
 "This Indian business always did make 
 trouble," replied Hugh, " if it wasn't for them 
 flat head Siwashes, Mr. Alden wouldn't be here. 
 She would be all right here when she gets a 
 little bigger, even if she is a girl. If mother arid 
 the girls want to give her up, I aint got nothing 
 to say." 
 
 It was with sinking hearts Mrs. Clarke und 
 the girls considered the loss of Little Lottie, but
 
 THE STORM'S GIFT 75 
 
 with feminine fortitude ever remembering the 
 great advantage Lottie was to receive, that at last 
 they consented to the loss. The remainder of the 
 day was spent by the mother and daughters pre 
 paring dainty dresses and bright ribbons for the 
 little waif, that she might not shame her father 
 on her arrival at the City of Washington. 
 
 "Lottie!" Commanded Hugh, "come out here 
 by the hen house, I want to talk a little good ad 
 vice to you. You are going away with that man 
 back there in the house. He says he will send me 
 a watch and a pistol, and a pair of boots: said 
 he thought I deserved something for rescuing you 
 from the sea. I told him if that was what he 
 was sending them for, to just keep them." 
 
 "Oh Hugh!" spoke up the little girl, "he can't 
 take me. I'm yours. Are you going to give me 
 to that great ugly man with grey whiskers, and 
 red nose?" 
 
 "Well you see Lottie, you have got a regular 
 father and he is rich. He has got lots of things ; 
 pretty horses, and carriages, with a top on it, and 
 an organ, and plenty of candy." 
 
 At the mention of candy, the child appeared 
 somewhat consoled at the change, but in a mo 
 ment she approached the boy, and twining her 
 arms about his neck, begged him to come along. 
 
 "Who, me?" replied the boy. "I wouldn't 
 live in that country if they would give me a new 
 rifle every day. This spot suits me all right, and 
 perhaps I can find another child tied to something
 
 76 THE STORM'S GIFT 
 
 in the surf. If I do, I'll bet it will be a boy." 
 
 "Hugh, maybe when I grow bigger I'll be a 
 boy." 
 
 "No danger, with that long yellow hair." 
 
 "Let's cut it off," pleaded the innocent Lottie. 
 "You wait here, and I will slip into the parlor 
 room and get the shears. Mamma won't care be 
 cause I am going away." So little Lottie soon re 
 turned with the scissors, and seating herself on a 
 cedar block, Hugh took the shears and proceeded 
 to detach great twining curls from the shapely 
 head, until the child was as bald as a pirate. 
 As he concluded his task, he drew a long breath, 
 and exclaimed: 
 
 "Now! I could almost love you little Lottie. 
 Always keep those curls off and I will come for 
 you when you are big, and we will build us a 
 house like Alice and her man has." 
 
 "Oh, Hugh!" sobbed the little girl, "I don't 
 want to leave you. I'm a boy now." 
 
 "No you aint," replied the boy. "You're 
 just a make believe, but you're mine just the 
 same, and when you get big I am coming after 
 you." 
 
 "I'll wait for you, Hughie dear. I'll wait 
 for you, cause I'm yours." 
 
 The following morning found a little brass 
 bound trunk loaded with the child's clothes and 
 treasures strapped for the long journey across the 
 western continent. Mrs. Clarke and the girls 
 could not repress their tears, and their loud sobb-
 
 THE STORM'S GIFT 77 
 
 ing savored more of a funeral than an ordinary 
 parting. Little Lottie hung at Hughie's heels 
 until the last moment, when the little trunk had 
 been strapped to the back of an Indian pony, and 
 she was about to be lifted to the back of another, 
 she approached Hugh and raising her ripe red 
 lips, begged him to kiss her good bye. 
 
 "I aint kissing no girl yet," spoke the boy. 
 "Alice kissed that Paul Likens, and now look at 
 them, stuck off there alone by themselves, and 
 acting as though they were the only people on 
 earth. Now you, Lottie, here is something to 
 keep about your neck to remember me by," and 
 as the boy spoke, he produced from somewhere 
 about his clothes, a little golden chain with a 
 tiny cross attached to it. He had found the gold 
 en trinket in an Indian grave, and no doubt at 
 some time it had belonged to some wealthy maid 
 en, that had fallen into the hands of the Indians 
 at some early date. 
 
 At last the adieus were made, and Alden 
 and the child departed with the Indian pack team 
 in the rear. The Clarkes household was a sad 
 dened one for days and weeks. Hugh spent most 
 of his time fishing for trout. One day while digg 
 ing for angle worms in the pasture lot, on Norton's 
 place, where the house was burned, his spade 
 struck a metallic substance. The curious boy un 
 earthed the object and found it to be a large cop 
 per kettle. It was too heavy for him to lift and 
 after great labor, he managed to remove the lid.
 
 78 THE STORM'S GIFT 
 
 Judge the boy's surprise to find the kettle brim 
 full of gold pieces, and a leathern sack filled with 
 glittering stones. 
 
 "I always knew Hartley never stole old Nor 
 ton's money," exclaimed the boy, "and now, he is 
 dead, so them jury fellows, can't apologize to him. 
 By crackins that kettle is heavy. I just can't lift 
 it at all. I guess I'll just take a piece of that gold 
 money and go down to Florence and get a couple 
 boxes of ammunition. No I don't believe I will 
 I, guess I better tell pa about it, maybe it won't 
 be right to take any. I suppose some one will 
 come along and take it away from me after I 
 found it, like they did little Lottie." But I will 
 get her back some day. Guess I will just cover 
 it up and go and tell the folks. My! but there is 
 a lot of it. If Lottie was here now I could buy her 
 all the candy she could eat in her lifetime." 
 
 As the boy Hugh approached his home he 
 found his father busy trying to turn the grind 
 stone, and hold the ax on it at the same time. 
 
 "Look here ! young man," the father exclaim 
 ed angrily, "I am getting tired of your fishing ex 
 cursions. You must remember there is wood to 
 be gotten, and chores to do. Eight hundred dol 
 lars a year, won't keep us all in idleness the rest 
 of our lives." 
 
 The boy grasped the handle of the grind 
 stone in silence, and in this manner turned it 
 steadily for the next fifteen minutes until his 
 father pronounced the ax sharp.
 
 THE STORM'S GIFT 79 
 
 "You better go in and have your dinner, 
 Hugh. It's a shame for you to keep your mother 
 and the girls waiting meals on you, while you 
 lay around on the creek banks fishing." 
 
 "But Pa, I found something over in Norton's 
 cow yard." 
 
 "What, an old jack knife?" inquired the 
 father. 
 
 "No I found a wash kettle full of gold money 
 and pretty stones." 
 
 "You did!" exclaimed the father, "what did 
 you do with it?" 
 
 "I couldn't lift it," replied the son, "so I 
 just covered it up and left it." 
 
 "Well go on and eat your dinner, boy. I 
 didn't mean to scold you for going fishing, Hugh. 
 You are the best trout fisherman on the coast. 
 Go on ond eat, boy while I go over and get 
 Williams. I want Abe to know all about the 
 money." 
 
 "Things are getting cold, Hughie, dear," 
 spoke up his mother as the boy dried his face on 
 the towel. "What kept you so long son ?" 
 
 "Why mother I was just digging fish worms 
 over in old Norton's cow pasture, when I struck 
 something hard with my shovel, and when I dug 
 around it, I found it was a great copper kettle 
 full of gold money." 
 
 "Father in Heaven, Hughie, you don't tell 
 me." 
 
 "Yes, I do tell you, and pa has just gone over
 
 80 THE STORM'S GIFT 
 
 to get Abe Williams, to help him carry it home. 
 I suppose some man from back east will come and 
 take it away from me, same as they did little 
 Lottie." 
 
 As the lad finished his dinner, Clarke and 
 Williams, entered the front door. Williams face 
 was flushed with excitement, and as he seated 
 himself in an old cane bottom chair, he exclaimed : 
 
 "We can do it now." 
 
 "Do what, Williams?" 
 
 "Fix up the ship and get her back into the 
 water and go and take possession of that sailor's 
 island paradise.
 
 THE STORM'S GIFT 81 
 
 Chapter VI 
 Lottie Meets Her Father. 
 
 When Mrs. Clarke spied the closely cropped 
 head of little Lottie, the poor woman nearly 
 fainted. 
 
 "Why Lottie dear/' exclaimed the poor wom 
 an, "what's happened to your hair?" 
 
 "Oh, nothing, only we wanted to be a boy." 
 
 "We? dear, who are we?" 
 
 "Oh, Hughie and I. He just can't bear my 
 long yellow hair, and we thought if we kept it cut 
 off until I get big, maybe I would be a boy, when 
 Hugh comes after me." 
 
 Mrs. Clarke was one of those reasonable 
 women that made the best of everything, so she 
 said but little to the children at their parting, 
 although it almost broke her heart to see the little 
 lass shorn of her golden tresses, but as Alden 
 would not reach the east for about four months, 
 she figured the child's hair would be a mass of 
 clinging flaxen curls, ere she reached her father's 
 home. 
 
 The trip down the coast was slow and tedi 
 ous, but the staunch little Lottie, was immune to 
 such hardships, and she proved a great comfort 
 to Mr. Alden who learned to worship the cheer 
 ful little maiden, before they had been traveling
 
 82 THE STORM'S GIFT 
 
 companions for a week. At Florence they were de 
 layed for a week by a washout, and fall weather 
 and snows greeted our travelers as soon as they 
 reached the Rocky mountains, in fact it was the 
 first snow the child had ever seen, and she often 
 bemoaned the fact that Hugh was not along to 
 see the white wonder. 
 
 On the day before Christmas Mr. Alden and 
 Lottie arrived at her father's home in Washing 
 ton. She was now seven years of age, and travel 
 had lent largely to her worldly knowledge. She 
 had given up all hope of ever becoming a boy. 
 Her father met the beautiful little girl with open 
 arms and Washington society went wild over the 
 pretty little girl, partially on account of her fath 
 ers popularity, but we will not take up the read 
 ers time with city doings and details, but instead 
 return to the home of the Clarkes down by the 
 sighing, sobbing, snarling, surly sea. 
 
 "How much do you figure there is in those 
 two piles you have just counted, Williams?" in 
 quired Clarke. 
 
 "If I aint mistaken there is sixty-one thous 
 and and ninety dollars," replied Williams. 
 
 "Well I make these two piles, seventy-six 
 thousand and forty dollars, that would make one 
 hundred and thirty-eight thousand and three hun 
 dred dollars, continued Clarke, "and the Lord only 
 knows what those stones are worth. Perhaps 
 more than the gold is." 
 
 "Well it's a sure thing," spoke up Williams,
 
 THE STORM'S GIFT 83 
 
 "no one has a better right to it than you have. 
 The boy found it, and old Norton has no relatives, 
 as was declared by the state, so no one but the 
 state could ever claim a share in it. So I think 
 the best way is to go ahead and fix up the ship 
 and float her. She is as good as the day she 
 beached." 
 
 "What does Hugh thing about the matter?" 
 
 "Oh Hugh," replied Clarke, "is worrying his 
 head off about little Lottie. He hasn't heard a 
 word from her yet, although she has been gone 
 six months. Hugh seems to have changed his 
 mind considerable on the girl question, and ac 
 knowledged to his mother that little girls of 
 Lottie's type, were nearly as good as boys for 
 most purposes, and says he thinks she will be 
 all right when she~grows up if she keeps her hair 
 cut off. Oh yes, Williams, Hugh is willing to 
 spend the money in fitting up the ship only he 
 says he will have to have the ship to come back 
 with when Lottie grows up." 
 
 "He will forget all about that Clarke, long 
 before the girl grows up." 
 
 "I don't know about that Williams. He isn't 
 very forgetful. He has never forgotten that you 
 called him a little girl, back in Iowa. Only a few 
 days ago he spoke of it, and said if he wasn't in 
 such need of a captain for the Grace & Dell, he 
 would leave you behind. But Hugh just adores 
 your wife Nellie."
 
 84 THE STORM'S GIFT 
 
 "It's a good thing he's a boy, if he does," 
 growled Williams. 
 
 "Say, Williams," spoke up Clarke, "how are 
 we going to make things appear before the neigh 
 bors. How are we going to account for all the 
 money it will take to fix up the ship and put her 
 in the water?" 
 
 "That's so, Clarke, I never thought of that. 
 Just let me talk to Nell about the matter, you 
 know she helped us out of that Indian scrape." 
 
 "All right, Abe, See what Nell says. Is 
 she willing to try the trip to the lost islands ?" 
 
 "Oh Nell? She is full of that 'Whither thou 
 goest stuff, same as your wife." 
 
 "The Lord has been good to us, Abe, in the 
 woman line." 
 
 Yes, Gus, he sure has."
 
 THE STORM'S GIFT 85 
 
 Midnight Storm. 
 
 On the night of January 18, a storm struck 
 the coast at Yachats, the fury of which has never 
 been equaled in the history of the Pacific coast. 
 The day had been warm, even sultry for that 
 time of year, until nearly evening, when the dark 
 ening sky gave birth to rumbling, dancing clouds, 
 their writhing fringes were streaked with blood 
 and fire; painted in a glare of crimson, with the 
 aid of the setting sun. The wind had begun to 
 whine a dreary requiem through the channels in 
 the rocks. Already the crest of the sea began to 
 undulate like the bosom of a furious woman. 
 Suddenly a darkened pall fell over sea and rocks. 
 A mighty roar of the elements smote the ear like 
 the crash of many cannon. A piercing streak 
 of tangled lightning sawed a slanting gash in the 
 rocky headland. Great boiling billows of whiten 
 ed spume flew high into the sky. The smothering 
 lather from the angry surf formed in winrows 
 like drifted snow. Great snarling writhing ma 
 rine rollers smothered each other in their mad 
 dening frolic. The wind got a finger hold under a 
 massive floating log, and lifted it high and flung 
 it splintered on the rocks twenty feet above. The 
 surf reached the Grace and Dell, raised her bod-
 
 86 THE STORM'S GIFT 
 
 ily from her bed in the sand, and carried her to 
 the mouth of the Alsea. When just at the mouth 
 of the bay, the wind shifted to the westward and 
 blew her safely across the bar, in fact she brought 
 up standing tight and calm under the lee of the 
 rocky headline off Yaquina John Point. Clarke 
 and Williams had followed the floating derelict 
 up the beach, and as soon as she became be 
 calmed they procured a fish boat and went aboard, 
 with the aid of the winches, they dropped the 
 anchors forward and aft in the harbor sands, 
 and formally took possession of her by right of 
 salvage according to the bottomry laws of the 
 seas. 
 
 "Abe are you a praying man?" spoke up 
 Clarke. 
 
 "Now look here, Clarke, I'm willing to help 
 you thank God for this second gift from the 
 storm. I figure this moving of the Grace and Dell 
 into this harbor, has saved us upwards of thirty 
 thousand dollars, and I never did lay the killing 
 of old Mollie onto God. They calls them acts of 
 God I know, but they are acts of the devil. The 
 saving of little Lottie, and the salvaging of ships 
 by storms, are acts of God, and Martin Clarke, 
 here on my knees, I thank God for this act, and I 
 thank God for my dear wife and children, and I 
 ask his blessing on our great undertaking to reach 
 that unknown mysterious island, the dead sailor 
 told us of." 
 
 "Whew! Abe, you can preach about as flu-
 
 THE STORM'S GIFT 87 
 
 ently as you can cuss, but I know you mean every 
 word, old boy, and it does me good to hear you, 
 but what plan has your wife suggested regard 
 ing an explanation of how we got so much money 
 to fix up the ship, and store her? I figure it will 
 take fifty thousand dollars to get everything 
 aboard. You know we will start a new world of 
 our own when we reach there, and must take 
 along a little of everything we may ever need." 
 
 "Well, Clarke, this is how Nellie says we 
 could do the thing. You know our oldest boy 
 Frank was talking of going to eastern Oregon, 
 to work on a cattle ranch before our good fortune. 
 Now, says Nellie, let it appear that he went to 
 Eastern Oregon, but instead let him go to Chi 
 cago with the money, he could impersonate a rich 
 man, that wants buy a ship and fit it for a long 
 sea voyage. He could write us letters making 
 offers on the ship, also offers to take us all with 
 him. He could make it appear in the letters that 
 he would meet us with the vessel at Astoria. Do 
 you get the drift?" 
 
 "Do I get it? Why Gus, why couldn't we 
 thought of that, it is as simple as rolling off a 
 log. When can the boy start east?" 
 
 "Oh, I reckon not before morning," replied 
 Williams. 
 
 "Well, Williams, you always did do things 
 lively. Get him ready as soon as possible, and I 
 will have the money fixed so he can carry it
 
 88 THE STORM'S GIFT 
 
 safely. Why the thing is as simple as shooting 
 snipe." 
 
 There was a great flurry and bustle going 
 on in the Williams log mansion most of the 
 night, starching shirts, ironing, getting the best 
 handkerchiefs, and socks together. The black 
 broadcloth suit that had only been worn by his 
 father at his wedding was in perfect order, and 
 style too for all that, so when the young man's 
 mother was through packing his trunk and suit 
 case, but for shoes and hat, Frank was as well 
 dressed as any city dandy. Although a quiet boy 
 by nature, he was a deep thinker and capable of 
 caring for the business at hand. It was a great 
 event this trip to far off Chicago, for be it known 
 the boy had never spent a night away from home 
 in his life. 
 
 Clarke had deposited twenty thousand dollars 
 in a bank at Salem. For this amount he gave the 
 young man a certified check. It was decided that 
 the boy should carry twenty thousand in gold 
 coin, almost a load of itself, but to the sturdy 
 young frontiersman it only balanced the grip in 
 his other hand which contained his clothes and 
 toilet articles. 
 
 By eight o'clock next day, Frank had shook 
 hands with the Clarkes and kissed his mother a 
 silent farewell. The weather was fine and dry, 
 and it was with light spirits the young man de 
 parted from the home footstool to take up his 
 abode in what was even then a great city. Little
 
 WHEN SEVEN YEARS OLD
 
 THE STORM'S GIFT 89 
 
 occurred to our young traveler on his journey to 
 the windy city. It was a time of great travel be 
 tween California and the east, so strange young 
 men ordinarily dressed did not attract much at 
 tention. On his arrival at Chicago he sought out 
 a moderate priced hotel and after placing the 
 funds in a bank established himself for the task 
 before him. 
 
 On June llth, Hugh's birthday, a letter 
 came from far off Washington, Dj. C. to the 
 Clarkes. While the letter was wholly personal, 
 I can't see that it will do any harm to copy it 
 here. The letter was dated: 
 
 Washington, May 4, 1865. 
 
 My dear Daddy, Mamma, Alice, Hughie 
 and all: 
 
 (then follows) "Oh ! Hughie dear, how I long 
 to see you. I think of you night and morn 
 ing. My own sure daddy is so good to me. 
 We have a big house, and black servants. 
 We have a lovely carriage and team and a 
 big piano. I don't like the piano very much. 
 I have to practice on it two hours each day. 
 Oh ! how I long to go fishing with you in big 
 creek, or ten mile. They won't let me do 
 hardly anything here. I can't go barefooted, 
 and Hughie dear, they won't cut my hair. It 
 is longer than ever and so curly and snarly 
 it takes most an hour a day for an old black 
 mammy to comb it out. I have lovely dress-
 
 90 THE STORM'S GIFT 
 
 es, but I like the things your mamma made 
 for me the best. 
 
 There is no use, Hugh talking about me 
 being a boy some time. Mrs. Stratton, (that 
 is papa's best friend,) said it could never be, 
 that everybody just stayed as they pere 
 born. She said when you got older you would 
 be glad I was a girl. Oh, I hope you will, 
 Hugh, because it can't be helped. My papa 
 will go to Paris in August, and I am to go 
 along. So if you hurry and write to me it 
 will reach me before we leave here. I am 
 almost nine years old now, and such a big 
 girl, with long legs, and snarly hair. The 
 little boys here are real nice, but one tried to 
 kiss me at a party, and I told him what you 
 said about your sister Alice, and her hus- 
 bana, and he turned up his nose, and said you 
 must be a simp. I just flew at him for a 
 minute and told him I wouldn't give your lit 
 tle finger for a coach load of Mamma's Wil 
 lies like him. Then I went and hunted up a 
 girl friend, and didn't talk to boys any more 
 that evening. 
 
 I am in the sixth grade at school, and the 
 teacher praises me everyday. She says 
 your mother must have been a wonderful 
 lady to have taught me so much before I 
 was six years old. Well Hugh dear, I will be 
 waiting anxiously for a letter from you, when 
 we get to France, I don't know where we will
 
 THE STORM'S GIFT 91 
 
 live, so write to me when you get this. With 
 love to Daddy, Mamma, and everybody, and 
 you. 
 
 From your loving, 
 
 Charlotte Fuquay, 
 1336 Capital Ave., 
 
 Washington, D. C. 
 
 Hugh listened with bated breath during the 
 reading of the letter, and when his mother con 
 cluded it , he said: 
 
 "Called me a simp, did he? I will take the 
 matter up with him when I visit Washington." 
 "When you visit Washington?" spoke up his 
 mother. "I am afraid we are going in an oppo 
 site direction." 
 
 "Coming back is as good as going," replied 
 her son. "I told her I was coming after her when 
 she grew up, and now she is going to France, and 
 I am going God knows where still, I'll find her. 
 Yes, I'll find her, and take her fishing back to 
 the beautiful Yachats." 
 
 "It will do no harm for you to think so, 
 Hugh." 
 
 "Of course it won't," replied her son, "for I 
 am going to do it." 
 
 Hugh sat himself down after supper, beside 
 the kitchen table to answer the letter from Lottie. 
 He could not bring himself to use any endearing 
 terms in the letter, as he believed such things be 
 longed to girls only. His letter ran as follows:
 
 92 THE STORM'S GIFT 
 
 Heceta Head, Oregon, 
 
 August 16, 1865 
 Miss Lottie Fuquay, 
 Most esteemed friend: 
 
 "Your letter to our folks to hand. Ma 
 and Pa are glad to hear from you, but I guess 
 you had to learn to write after you got there, 
 as it was so long before we got a letter. 
 
 Alice has got a girl. She calls her Lot 
 tie. Nothing but girls here. There was a 
 family from Portland moved onto the Davis 
 place. They have six girls. Williams' muley 
 cow had twin calves. They were both heif 
 ers. Fanny had six little pups. We drowned 
 all but two. You know why. There is a 
 teacher coming to teach school here this win 
 ter. Its name is Ida Sprague. Of what sex 
 would you pronounce it? From the name, 
 does it sound as though I would have any 
 fun hunting and fishing with it ? But I don't 
 blame you, Lottie, for being a girl. Some 
 times I am glad of it, for when I come for 
 you, I may need you to do the cooking. 
 
 If you see that fellow that called me a 
 simp, tell him for me, that I will call on him 
 personally some day, and hope to have the 
 pleasure of bruising his face. 
 
 Well Lottie, Ma and the girls are writ 
 ing a lot of news so I will close, as ever yours, 
 Respectfully, 
 
 Hugh Clarke
 
 THE STORM'S GIFT 93 
 
 P. S. I told you on the top of this letter where 
 it was from. 
 
 Frank Williams spent a day or two looking 
 over the city. His greatest pleasure was at the 
 theaters, and minstrel shows. His first letter to 
 his parents ran as follows: 
 
 Chicago, 111., 10-13-65 
 Mr. G. M. Williams. 
 Heceta Head, Oregon. 
 Dear Sir: 
 
 I am writing you in reference to a mat 
 ter that may be of mutual interest. For 
 years I have contemplated an extended voy 
 age on the waters of your great Pacific 
 Ocean, having acquired a comfortable for 
 tune, it is my wish to purchase a sailing ves 
 sel for that purpose and select my own crew, 
 from the captain down. 
 
 I shall expect to pay a fair price both for 
 boat and crew, and desire to take along pro 
 visions and other necessities for an extend 
 ed cruise. I might add that I am interested 
 financially in a tropical island of the Pacific 
 and desire to take machinery and other sup 
 plies for use on the island. A gentleman 
 from Astoria, Oregon, advises me that you 
 have a ship that will fill all of my require 
 ments also says that you are a skilled naviga 
 tor. Do not let money matters stand in the 
 way of joining me, in this project, as my 
 heart is set on the adventure, and all concern-
 
 94 THE STORM'S GIFT 
 
 ed will be well paid for their interest, and 
 time taken. I will write you more fully of my 
 plans should I get a favorable reply to this 
 offer. 
 
 Trusting this will meet with your favor, 
 I am respectfully yours for better ac 
 quaintance and friendship, 
 
 Jonas Moore, 
 3692 Park St., 
 
 Chicago. 111. 
 
 It is needless to say the Clarke and Williams 
 families were anxiously awaiting this letter, and 
 Williams on his return from the Post Office stop 
 ped at several places and showed the letter as it 
 had long been a custom of the two families to 
 .open each others mail, as anything coming by 
 post was of mutual interest as the two families 
 were of closer relationship than most blood rela 
 tives. 
 
 A letter was dispatched the next day to Jonas 
 Moore, Chicago, of course the address on the out 
 side looked big to the settlers, but the contents 
 was made up mostly of a mother's love and a 
 father's advice. 
 
 Young Williams lost no time in expressing a 
 check for twenty-five thousand dollars. That had 
 to be taken overland to Astoria for the money 
 and Clarke had to wait two days for the money to 
 arrive from Portland, as so large an amount was 
 not on hand in the town at the mouth of the Col 
 umbia. This big remittance put the Clarke and
 
 THE STORM'S GIFT 95 
 
 Williams families on a safe financial footing. 
 Clarke began making a systematic list of the 
 many things needed on the voyage. They must 
 take along horses, cattle, chickens, and pigs. The 
 sailor hadn't told them of any domestic animals 
 found on the island. There must be plenty of 
 cloth, and wearing apparel. There must be plen 
 ty of medicines, and a thousand details, we will 
 not enumerate here. During all this time, Will 
 iams and the boys were aboard the Grace and 
 Dell in the Alsea Harbor, fitting her up for the 
 long voyage, building berths and state rooms, 
 for the women and children. Cleaning the water 
 casks, renovating the biscuit and bread tanks, 
 and at home fattening beef and pork for the voy 
 age. Everything was bustle and excitement. 
 
 An Indian wedding was to take place at the 
 mouth of the Yachats Sunday, before Christmas. 
 Clarke as Agent and Magistrate was to perform 
 the ceremony. Indians from the interior and 
 from both directions up and down the coast were 
 to be present. A great feast was being prepared. 
 Tons of luscious mussels were being brought 
 from the rocks. A half dozen carcasses of fat 
 elk were hanging in the sweetening smoke of an 
 alder fire. Gay Siwash maidens were bustling 
 around their tepees spreading furs and arranging 
 for a big dance. An Indian carrier had been dis 
 patched to Coos Bay for fire chuck. Clarke had 
 forbidden this, but the money had been raised all 
 unknown to him, and unscrupulous white men
 
 96 THE STORM'S GIFT 
 
 would sell the poison to any one that had the 
 price. The day drew near, only three days more, 
 and the great event would be at hand. 
 
 "Chaco six nika tikka wawa copa nika," the 
 speaker was a tall broad shouldered young In 
 dian from Grande Ronde Reservation. 
 
 "Kopet wa wa," replied a young Indian girl 
 who had just been addressed by the strange 
 brave. "Cli Mike clatawa," continued the girl. 
 
 "Nike stop here, Nika come Grande Ronde to 
 big feast." 
 
 "Who sent for you?" the girl inquired in 
 fairly (good English. 
 
 "Wake send, Nicka just come." 
 
 At this, the father of the girl rode up to the 
 tepee on one of those famous staunch Siwash 
 ponies, that are now practically extinct. The 
 girl's father met the strange young Indian much 
 more friendly than did the maiden, and it was 
 evident that the young brave had something im 
 portant on his mind, as he lost no time getting 
 Scar Face John off to one side and proceeded 
 to lay the following plan before him. His pro 
 ject was to capture the ship Grace and Dell for a 
 cruise in Alaskan waters. Already an Indian 
 crew had been chosen and numbers of young 
 braves were wild over the prospect of a whaling 
 voyage. The young red devils would not scruple 
 to kill if necessary to gain their end, and the 
 young brave informed Scar Face John that 
 twelve young Indians were camped near the
 
 THE STORM'S GIFT 97 
 
 mouth of the Alsea, armed to the teeth awaiting 
 his return, and ready to attack and capture the 
 ship. Scar Face John had long been known as 
 an unscrupulous rascal, and he fell in with the 
 young pirate at once. 
 
 It was agreed that Scar Face should enlist 
 two or three young braves from the Yachats Res 
 ervation, and the matter was settled to take place 
 on the night of the feast and dance. 
 
 Had Scar Face or his young companion been 
 a little more careful, things might have turned 
 out more to their liking.. As it was, Nannie Scar 
 Face, was concealed behind a clump of salal brush, 
 within ten paces of where the conference took 
 place, and overheard every detail of the nefarious 
 plot. 
 
 This beautiful, young Indian maiden had long 
 cherished an ardent affection for Frank Clarke. 
 However that young man never dreamed of such 
 a thing. 
 
 With an Indian's patience and caution she 
 said nothing of what she had overheard until the 
 evening of the great pow wow. 
 
 The feast had been laid and a feast that 
 would have tempted most white men. There 
 were great saddles of elk and deer, barbecued as 
 only an Indian can barbecue meat. There was 
 fried salmon, Rock oysters, sea mussels, and wild 
 fruits of ten varieties. 
 
 Clarke had just finished an eloquent address 
 to his people, telling them of his proposed voyage,
 
 98 THE STORM'S GIFT 
 
 and thanking them for the splendid manner in 
 which they had conducted themselves, promising 
 them many presents on his departure. 
 
 The hour was half past ten, at night, the 
 time for the attack on the ship was set for twelve. 
 There was only Williams and his two boys, aboard 
 the Grace and Dell at the time. As Clarke step 
 ped from the platform, where he had been speak 
 ing, the Indian girl beckoned him to her.
 
 THE STORM'S GIFT 99 
 
 Chapter VIII 
 The Attack on the Grace and Dell. 
 
 As Clarke approached the girl he could see 
 that she was greatly agitated. 
 
 "Come with me," she whispered, "I have 
 something I must tell you, altho when my father 
 finds out I have done so he will kill me." 
 
 "Sit down on this rock, my poor girl, and tell 
 me what troubles you. I will not let Scar Face 
 your father, harm you." 
 
 "It isn't myself he is planning to harm, my 
 Dear White Father," replied the girl, "it is the 
 ship. They are planning to take the ship tonight 
 at twelve o'clock." 
 
 "Take the ship!" exclaimed Clarke, "Who? 
 how ? can your father take the ship with Williams 
 and his boys aboard and armed?" 
 
 "But," replied the girl, "there are twelve In 
 dians from Grande Ronde ; and three from here in 
 the plot. They must all be there now." 
 
 "Merciful Heavens! Girl, why didn't you tell 
 me sooner. It is but an hour and a half until 
 twelve o'clock, and it is a long ten miles to where 
 the ship lies." 
 
 "It was fear of my father that prevented me 
 telling you sooner," replied the girl. 
 
 "Well," spoke up Clarke, "you go to my wife
 
 100 THE STORM'S GIFT 
 
 and stay with her until I return. Good God!, 
 there is a southwest gale coming up, but luckily 
 it will be at our backs." As he spoke, Clarke's 
 son Charley, approached him. 
 
 "Boy !" almost screamed the father, "Get six 
 of your bravest friends out from that dance at 
 once. I am told that a band of Siwash Indians are 
 planning to capture our ship at twelve tonight. 
 It is half past ten now. How can we reach there 
 in time." 
 
 "Thank God, my labors have not been in 
 vain," exclaimed the lad. "For the past six 
 months I have been working on a sailing craft 
 that sails on land; you know the beach shingle 
 from here to Alsea is as hard and smooth as mar 
 ble, only last night, while you were all sleeping 
 I took out the sail wagon, and with the light 
 winds, made the trip in one-half hour. I figure 
 that with this southerly half gale, I can land you 
 there in fifteen minutes." 
 
 "How many will your Wonderful wagon car 
 ry, my lad?" inquired Clarke. 
 
 "Oh I guess in a pinch it would carry ten 
 persons." 
 
 "Then get it out at once son, while I go and 
 select a half dozen white men, and secure the 
 guns !" 
 
 The sail wagon was so simple it is hardly 
 worthy of description. The wheels were sawed 
 from a perfectly round pepper wood log that had 
 washed in from the Gold beach country ; the rims
 
 THE STORM'S GIFT 101 
 
 were about four inches wide, and the wood was 
 as hard and tough as iron wood. The wagon had 
 five wheels instead of four, as the horse drawn 
 wagon has. The fifth wheel being considerably 
 wider, and adjusted about six feet ahead of the 
 front wheels. A lever reaching back to the axle 
 of the front wheels where the steersman was 
 seated made up the steering equipment. The 
 sails were set well aft, and were hung wing and 
 wing with a flying jib, swung from the main mast 
 to the front axle, that gave the wagon an enor 
 mous swell of canvas that made land cruising in 
 a gale as dangerous as it was at sea. 
 
 As Charley Clarke pushed his treasured land 
 ship from its hiding place in an old deserted shed, 
 the father came up on a run with a half dozen 
 stalwart settlers, each one armed with a rifle and 
 hunting knife. 
 
 "Climb aboard," yelled Charley to the men, 
 "I have her made fast to that alder there, we will 
 set her sailing gear after all are aboard, when we 
 will cut the belaying rope. I warn you to hang 
 on for your lives; as I expect to show you some 
 speed in this gale." 
 
 As the starboard sail was raised the wagon 
 began tugging at the rope like a frantic horse, 
 and while setting the port sail the craft broke 
 her moorings and darted up the beach with the 
 speed of lightning. There was no use for the jib, 
 so it was not raised. No reefs had been provided
 
 102 THE STORM'S GIFT 
 
 for in the sails, so they were compelled to carry 
 full canvas. 
 
 The machine, for such you might call it, flew 
 before the wind at terrific speed, and while pass 
 ing through small creeks that flow through the 
 beach in several places between Yachats and Al- 
 sea, the wheels threw water high into the air, 
 nearly choking the wild riders. The noise and 
 rattle of the swift running craft made it imposs 
 ible to hear each other, so after a few attempts 
 at conversation the men gave their entire time 
 to holding onto the rather rough riding machine. 
 Just imagine traveling at the rate of sixty miles 
 an hour, fifty years ago. 
 
 The machine held together bravely and a few 
 minutes brought them in sight of the Alsea bar. 
 Charley Clarke, the inventor of the machine, had 
 not given thought to the matter of stopping the 
 great sail wagon, and as he rounded the point at 
 Yaquina John head, he found it would be neces 
 sary to run into the high timbered bank at Ready 
 Point, or plunge the wagon into the swift running 
 bay. Out from the darkness lurid flashes of light 
 made from gun fire on and about the ship, met 
 their eye. There was no time to decide, and brave 
 Charley Clarke steered his heavy wooden sail 
 wagon into the swift running bay. The momen 
 tum of the craft carried it with a bang up against 
 the shore side of the Grace and Dell. 
 
 The hoarse howls of half drunken Indians
 
 THE STORM'S GIFT 103 
 
 greeted their ears. Williams and his boys were 
 struggling with a half dozen frenzied redskins 
 on deck. The remainder of the thieving pack 
 were in a large canoe at the ships stern. 
 
 As the sail wagon struck the ship, the In 
 dians in the boat yelled in terror in their super 
 stitious fear, believing it an instrument from the 
 evil spirit. They hastily paddled for the north 
 shore a mile distant. 
 
 The red devils aboard the ship had heard and 
 felt the impact of the machine as she struck, and 
 also hearing the frantic yells of their terror 
 stricken comrades, jumped overboard in the swift 
 running tide, leaving two of their number slowly 
 bleeding to death in the ship's scuppers. 
 
 Williams had received a bullet wound in his 
 shoulder, and barring a bruised head and a knife 
 scratch, the boys were uninjured. 
 
 "God be praised Clarke !" sang out Williams, 
 as he spied his old friend, "did the good Lord give 
 you wings? or have you saddled the storm? It 
 seems since the death of old Mollie every storm 
 brings us some great gift." 
 
 "The storm would not have aided us much 
 had it not been for my boy Charley, who in se 
 cret built a sail wagon, that has, with God's help, 
 saved your life and the ship." 
 
 The sailing machine being made wholly of 
 wood floated easily, but in their hurry to get
 
 104 THE STORM'S GIFT 
 
 aboard the Grace and Dell they had omitted to 
 make the wagon fast, so she went to sea, out over 
 the bar with the swift running tide. 
 
 Clarke secured a fleet footed Indian pony, 
 left by the fleeing Indians, and hastened back to 
 Yachats. When it is known that an Indian feast, 
 lasts seven days, you can easily understand that 
 the pow wow was just getting under good head 
 way when he returned at two o'clock in the morn 
 ing. The Bride and Groom were busy feasting 
 and dancing, and none knew of the proposed raid 
 and murder on board the Grace and Dell save the 
 Clarke and Williams women folk, and the Indian 
 girl who had at the sacrifice of her father, who 
 had been killed on the ship, been such a true 
 friend to the Clarke people. 
 
 An Indian marriage ceremony when per 
 formed by a minister, or a white officer differs 
 but little from a white wedding. At the time 
 there were signs and tokens given the young 
 people by the old Klutchmen of the tribe, but 
 these mystic rites were not divulged to the white 
 guests. Considerable quarreling as a result of 
 the fire water took place; but none were serious 
 ly injured. 
 
 The Clarke and Williams families were work 
 ing day and night fitting up the ship and much 
 of the stores were already aboard. 
 
 About a week later a letter came from Jonas 
 Moore, Capitalist, saying he would reach Astoria 
 in about three weeks. Frank Williams in writing
 
 THE STORM'S GIFT 105 
 
 this letter, had informed the home people that he 
 was shipping by rail and water, every article 
 named in the Clarke inventory, and had added 
 many more as his opportunity for seeing useful 
 things was much better than at home. 
 
 Several Indians had been cutting firewood 
 for the ship, as none knew how extended the voy 
 age would be. Williams had secured new charts 
 and maps, that gave seemingly every detail of 
 southern and western waters. Clarke had an 
 nounced that the voyagers would leave on the ship 
 for Astoria, on the following Monday. 
 
 Abe Evans, wife and family were as anxious 
 for the voyage as any members of the party. 
 
 Two Indian boys and three Indian girls, ser 
 vants of the Clarkes, were to go along. This made 
 a party of twenty-two souls. 
 
 Hugh Clarke worked silently but constantly, 
 and one evening when he thought he was alone, 
 his mother caught him with a great tear cours 
 ing down his cheek. 
 
 "Why Hughie!" exclaimed his mother, "are 
 you sick or in pain son?" 
 
 "No," replied her son, "I've been grating 
 horseradish." 
 
 His mother said no more, although she knew 
 there was not a horseradish plant in one hundred 
 miles. Way down in that boy's heart there was a 
 constant longing to see little Lottie. 
 
 Sunday morning, Clarke called his people to 
 gether and bid them a feeling farewell. To Scar
 
 106 THE STORM'S GIFT 
 
 Face John's daughter he made ample provisions 
 for her future at least until she should marry. 
 To every other individual he gave a handsome 
 present, consisting of rifles, boats, blankets, pro 
 visions, as the individual case required. A great 
 cavalcade of Indians followed the party to the 
 mouth of the Alsea bay, where the Grace and Dell 
 was riding at anchor. At ten o'clock sharp, anch 
 ors were weighed, sails spread, and the Grace and 
 Dell moved majestically through the narrows, 
 out over the harbor bar, and headed northward, 
 under a full spread of canvas, with a stiff east 
 erly sailing breeze. 
 
 It was a wonderful epoch in the lives of all. 
 The women were already busying themselves in 
 the galley and main cabin. The men and boys 
 were stowing rigging and working cargo under 
 decks. It was a clear cloudless day and many of 
 the party were gazing for their last time on Ya- 
 quina John Point. 
 
 The weather was ideal during the trip from 
 Alsea Bay to the Columbia River Bar, and not a 
 soul on board missed a meal during the trip 
 which consumed two days. 
 
 On arriving at the lightship off the Colum 
 bia Bar, a stiff tide was running out and an off 
 shore breeze held the ship outside for another 
 night, but bright and early Wednesday morning 
 a sailing breeze came in from the Southwest, and 
 Williams hung every rag on her that her sticks 
 would bear, and crossed the bar with the
 
 THE STORM'S GIFT 107 
 
 speed of a steamer. The wind held to a fair quar 
 ter until she reached the docks at Astoria and 
 by noon of that day mess was served in sight of 
 what to some of the voyagers was a wonderful 
 city. 
 
 Young Williams and his freight had not ar 
 rived yet, so it gave Clarke plenty of time to scour 
 the town further for articles to be used in coloriz 
 ing an uninhabited island. 
 
 It was ten days before the last consignment 
 of freight from Chicago arrived, and during that 
 time the women folks had been ashore many 
 times, and purchased lavishly of the daintv dress 
 es and wearing apparel that hung in the shops of 
 the town. Clarke had urged this for, said he, 
 where we are going, a thousand gold dollars will 
 not buy a paper of pins, so spend all you like for 
 it will be of no use to us when we leave here. 
 
 The Indians had gone in pretty strong for 
 brass watches and other cheap jewelry, and the 
 outfitting of the ship is well remembered by the 
 old timers of Astoria as a snap seldom met with. 
 
 It was June 16, 1872 that the moorings were 
 slipped from the docks and the Grace and Dell 
 headed for the open sea. I doubt if ever a party 
 of people started for an ocean voyage without 
 knowing where they were going or even the lo 
 cation of where they wished to go but our voy 
 agers were a care free, happy people with a 
 staunch ship and provisions to last them for 
 years. The boat carried two brass cannon for-
 
 108 THE STORM'S GIFT 
 
 ward and one ten pounder aft, and as she tacked 
 past the light ship she fired a salute from her en 
 tire battery. 
 
 Soon the Grace and Dell was out of sight of 
 land and her mysterious voyage was begun. Will 
 iams called Clarke into the pilot house and spoke 
 as follows : 
 
 "Friend Clarke, being the Captain and navi 
 gator of this ship, I feel deeply the responsibili 
 ties resting upon me. I want your boy, Hugh, with 
 with me constantly. I wish to give every spare 
 moment to teaching him navigation for should 
 some mishap befall me, the ship would be without 
 a navigator, so it is important that he should start 
 at once. A few weeks for a boy like him woll 
 teach him much, and I as skipper of the ship ap 
 point your son, Hugh Clarke, first mate of the 
 Grace and Dell. In the locker of his stateroom 
 adjoining mine, he will find a new uniform and a 
 first mate's cap with gold lace and all that goes 
 with it. See the boy at once, Clarke and ask him 
 to forgive me for accusing him of being a girl." 
 
 "Oh Hugh, is all over that foolishness, Will 
 iams." 
 
 "I am afraid not altogether, Clarke," replied 
 Williams, "but I hope by my treatment of him to 
 make him forget it before we have sailed officers 
 together many leagues on the Grace and Dell." 
 
 Few boys could conceal their pleasure and 
 satisfaction at the sight of a beautiful uniform 
 and knowledge that they were high in authority.
 
 THE STORM'S GIFT 109 
 
 Hugh grasped Captain Williams' hand firmly and 
 was man enough! to acknowledge that there re 
 mained no animosity on his part toward the Cap 
 tain. He sat sturdily to work on the books and 
 instruments and Williams was constantly at his 
 side, lending aid and counsel. 
 
 At this time of year in the north, central Pa 
 cific hard northwesters are not uncommon but for 
 the first two weeks our voyagers met nothing but 
 a fair sailing breeze. The ship was headed for 
 the southwest, and when about eight hundred 
 miles out ran into a calm that lasted sixteen days. 
 
 There is nothing like a long calm on a sail 
 ing vessed to get on the nerves of either crew or 
 passengers but our good women folks were full of 
 good cheer and many games and entertainments 
 were resorted to to break the monotony. Mrs. 
 Clarke was keeping a regular school and all but 
 the grown men attended this, as punctual as 
 though they were ashore at an academy. Few 
 ships were met at those early times and up to this 
 date none had been spoken. 
 
 The morning of June 28, came in with a 
 bluster from the northwest, and before eight bells 
 the ship was running under close reefed sails 
 forward and aft. The barometer was going down 
 and the skipper had ordered all hatches double 
 battened and rigging snugged away. 
 
 By noon the stiffest gale Williams ever exper 
 ienced was blowing out of the northwest. The 
 women and children were becoming dreadfully
 
 110 THE STORM'S GIFT 
 
 sea sick as were also some of the men. Here Mrs. 
 Evans was able to show her great value in nursing 
 and medicine. For three days, and nights the 
 wind howled through the rigging and braces, and 
 the few left who were not prostrated with sea 
 sickness worked every watch of the clock for sev 
 enty-two hours. 
 
 At last the gale blew itself out and the glo 
 rious sun shone forth, but the sea was still a heav 
 ing stretch of mountains. Twenty-four hours 
 more brought the sea down to a fair weather chop 
 and it wasn't long until all were on decks again 
 as cheerful as ever. One of the horses had been 
 killed by the pitch of the raging sea, and his car 
 cass had been hoisted to the main deck and cast 
 overboard amidst a school of sharks. The fran 
 tic play of these beasts of the sea to tear the 
 dead animal asunder filled the souls of our women 
 and children with disgust and horror, and Mrs. 
 Clarke made a lesson of it to the younger ones, 
 pointing out to them what would be their fate 
 should they get too close to the low railing and 
 fall overboard. 
 
 The party were now in tropical waters and 
 the great hazy sun hung in a misty oven of heat. 
 The days were oppressive, but the nights were 
 comparatively comfortable. For nearly two 
 months now, our voyagers had not had a sight 
 of land. "Perhaps," said Clarke, "we are in the vi 
 cinity of our lost island," but not a sight of bird or 
 gull betokened their approach to land.
 
 THE STORM'S GIFT 111 
 
 Our hero, Hugh, had made such rapid pro 
 gress in the art of navigation that Capt. Williams 
 seldom took the trouble to take the sun. At 
 twelve o'clock noon on each bright day you could 
 see Hugh standing on the bridge, sextant in hand, 
 closely scanning the instrument for a few min 
 utes, then retiring to his cabin, you would find him 
 silently figuring out the position of the ship. 
 Sometimes Captain Williams would get a posi 
 tion on the after deck and take a reckoning un 
 known to the young mate, but the results were 
 invariably identical, so Capt. Williams had prac 
 tically surrendered the navigation of the craft to 
 his young mate. 
 
 One of the young Indians had fallen from 
 a cross tree in the rigging during the latter por 
 tion of the storm before mentioned, and had sus 
 tained a badly fractured leg below the knee. It 
 was a compound fracture of the severest type, 
 both bones having made serious gashes through 
 the flesh. Nell Evans had reduced the fracture 
 with the skill of a trained surgeon. Although an 
 tiseptics were used profusely in the dressings ow 
 ing to the extreme hot climate blood poisoning 
 set in and after every effort had been made to 
 save the limb it was found necessary to amputate 
 it. Nell Evans had never seen a capital operation 
 in her life, but as the young Indian's life depended 
 on the attempt she brought forth the crude in 
 struments at her command and set to work. An 
 esthetics were unknown to her, but she thorough-
 
 112 THE STORM'S GIFT 
 
 ly understood the use of opiates, and after giving 
 her dusky patient all the opium his system would 
 stand she went to work with knife and saw, sav 
 ing a good cushion for the stump, and taking up 
 the arteries and veins as neatly as any surgeon 
 might. Even in that boiling climate the wound 
 healed by first intuition, and long before they 
 sighted land, the Indian youth was walking about 
 decks on crutches. 
 
 Sailing for an unknown harbor is a thing 
 few people have ever experienced and to say the 
 voyage was becoming rather monotonous was put 
 ting it mild. Frequent rains at sea had helped to 
 replenish the fresh water supply, and Clarke had 
 rigged a condenser from his stock of hardware, 
 whereby he could make water fresh enough to sat 
 isfy the stock from the salty sea.
 
 THE STORM'S GIFT 113 
 
 Chapter IX 
 Lost at Sea. 
 
 Our voyagers ever patient murmured little at 
 what seemed now a fruitless effort to locate the 
 dead sailor's island. The softened chime of the 
 play of waters at the ships for foot rang low in the 
 tropical sea, like the murmuring of a rill. Canvas 
 was set for great tacks. Often Hugh would hold 
 the vessel on a westerly course for three hundred 
 miles without touching a stitch of canvas. Then 
 he would heel her over in a southeasterly course 
 for a like distance. Many weeks had passed since 
 they had sighted a ship, and it was evident our 
 party was out of the natural ships courses. Never 
 a complaint came from the faithful women. 
 
 One day Capt. Williams met Mrs. Clarke on 
 the after deck. 
 
 "Hello Skipper," cheerily sang out Mrs. 
 Clarke, "When do you figure at our present speed 
 we will reach the island ?" 
 
 "Don't joke me on the subject, Lizzie," re 
 plied the Captain, "My hair is turning grey fast 
 enough. There is no way to know where the 
 island is located. I am worried most to death and 
 you women have been so good and uncomplain 
 ing. Tell me, Mrs. Clarke, what do the women 
 say amongst themselves about the crazy adven 
 ture?"
 
 114 THE STORM'S GIFT 
 
 "Why us women are just delighted with the 
 trip. It is just one long vacation of pleasure and 
 amusement." 
 
 "Now "Lizzie, its awful good of you to put it 
 that way, but I know you must be most frantic at 
 our failure to discover the island. We may have 
 passed it several times and not have known it." 
 
 "I think I will talk to Clarke about turning 
 back to the states. I am completely discouraged." 
 
 So it was decided to call a meeting on the fol 
 lowing Saturday and secure the opinions of all con 
 cerned regarding the search for the island. 
 
 Just before daybreak, Saturday morning 
 while young Williams was on watch, he spied a 
 dark object afloat off their port bow. Swift slants 
 of light were reaching forward from the eastern 
 horizon. Soon Young Williams made out the ob 
 ject to be a ships dory. 
 
 Sails on the Grace and Dell were hauled in 
 and the vessel brought into the wind, the ship 
 came to a faltering stop, and lay calmly swaying 
 to and fro in the softened swells. 
 
 "I thought we could make use of that ships 
 dory yonder." sang out young Williams to Hugh, 
 who was at the wheel and in charge of the watch. 
 
 "Of course we can, Charley," replied Hugh. 
 "It makes little difference whether we are sailing 
 or laying to for all, we seem to accomplish, rouse 
 up a couple of the boys and lower the starboard 
 life boat and go over and pick up the dory. Boats 
 are about the only thing we are short on, and that
 
 THE STORM'S GIFT 115 
 
 one rides high and dry and will save the building 
 of one when we reach the island." 
 
 "When we reach the island," replied Charley, 
 "don't you think Hugh, this is rather a wild goose 
 chase. It is winter now, in Oregon and we left 
 there last spring. Don't you think we had ought 
 to head for some definite point? and besides, the 
 sailor DeSomers may have been a little looney and 
 imagined all this island talk." By this time the 
 life boat was in the water and Charley Williams 
 with two of the sailors were pulling steadily for 
 the derelict dory. 
 
 Judge the surprise of Charley and his com 
 panions on reaching the dory to discover the bod 
 ies of two women and a man lying in the bottom of 
 the boat. The jar of the ships life boat had awak 
 ened the sleepers of the dory and they arose to 
 their feet with cries of welcome and delight. They 
 had been afloat for twenty-one days in the open 
 dory and their supply of food and water had run 
 out the previous day. The occupants of the dory 
 had given up all hopes of rescue and had lain down 
 in their starving condition resigned to their fate. 
 
 The life boat took the dory in tow and soon 
 all were aboard the Grace and Dell. It was a great 
 event for our voyagers, this new acquisition to 
 their party, thousands of miles at sea, and Mrs. 
 Moran, the mother of the young man and woman, 
 on hearing of the peculiar errand of our party, said 
 an island was as good as any place to her, as she 
 had lost her husband and all her earthly goods.
 
 116 THE STORM'S GIFT 
 
 Ida Moran was a tall dark haired girl about 
 eighteen years of age, and her brother seemed 
 about two years older. They had left Dublin, Ire 
 land eight months previous to this and their fath 
 er's and husband's ship had sunk in a gale, between 
 Australia and the Hawaiian Islands. It was sev 
 eral days before the color came back to the cheeks 
 of Ida Moran, and then it was easy to see that 
 Miss Moran was more than an ordinary beauty. 
 
 Charley Williams realized from the moment 
 he cast his eyes on the girl while yet in the dere 
 lict dory he had met his fate. 
 
 In a few days the wrecked family were a part 
 of our voyagers party in the strictest sense. Mrs. 
 Moran and her daughter took hold of the duties 
 aboard ship in a manner to charm the Clarke and 
 Williams ladies, and from the first the Morans 
 would not remain as guests but insisted on doing 
 their part on board the Grace and Dell. 
 
 There are many opportunities for love meet 
 ings on a vessel at sea, and young Clarke was 
 young and impulsive. The young man was hoard 
 ing his joy for the future when he dare tell the 
 stately Miss Moran of his ardent love, and that 
 young lady was not insensible to the manly 
 charms of Charley Clarke. Unlike his brother 
 Hugh, he greatly admired the crowning beauty of 
 girl's heads and the black glistening tresses of Ida 
 Moran were his greatest delight. 
 
 Saturday morning the entire ships company
 
 THE STORM'S GIFT 117 
 
 assembled on the main deck just forward of the 
 pilot house. 
 
 Capt. Williams appeared from his state room 
 with a troubled look on his face, care and worry 
 had left their traces on his otherwise cheerful 
 countenance. He addressed the assembled voyag 
 ers as follows: 
 
 "Friends and shipmates, it is my unpleasant 
 duty as Master of this vessel, to say that I am 
 greatly discouraged in our undertaking. For sev 
 en months we have cruised the southern seas in 
 a fruitless search for an unknown island. The 
 thought has been put forward by some of our 
 crew, that the sailor BeSomers was not respon 
 sible and the island was only the fruits of his fev 
 ered brain. Myself and Martin Clarke are respon 
 sible for this fruitless cruise. Our good women 
 have borne with us uncomplainingly, only for 
 their cheerful attitude I should have suggested 
 turning back before. We have ample food for 
 many months, but if we do not slaughter the stock 
 our water supply will soon be exhausted. It now 
 remains with you my dear friends, to decide what 
 we shall do. Clarke and I will be governed by 
 your wishes in the matter." 
 
 "Why Gus Williams, you old faint heart," 
 spoke up Mrs. Evans. "Who ever heard of such a 
 thing as turning back. Why I never had such an 
 enjoyable time in my life." 
 
 "There is no turning back for me, Captain," 
 spoke up Mrs. Clarke. "If we keep on cruising
 
 118 THE STORM'S GIFT 
 
 around we are sure to strike land somewhere," 
 and to this all the women aboard, even Ida Moran, 
 begged the skipper to be of good cheer, and con 
 tinue the search for the island. 
 
 So the cruise continued, first on one tack, 
 then on the other. 
 
 "All hands on deck," bellowed a voice down 
 the forecastle peak companionway one morning 
 about three o'clock a few days after the decision 
 to continue the search for the island. "We have 
 got most of the canvas in, but a hurricane is brew 
 ing and the watch on deck needs help to stow the 
 mizzen and royals. Look lively men, the storm is 
 on us." It was the voice of Hugh speaking. As the 
 watch below emerged from their berths in the for 
 ward part of the ship a lurid flash of lightning lit 
 up the sea for miles, and Charley Clarke stand 
 ing by his side remarked : 
 
 "Hugh, did you see that large dark object off 
 our port bow?" 
 
 "No Charley what did it look like?" 
 
 "Can't say, only it looked big and solid. Wish 
 it would lightning again," and as he spoke a blind 
 ing flash occurred again and several of the crew 
 saw what they believed to be a rocky head line. 
 
 "Holy Fathers," exclaimed Hugh, "We have 
 got to get our ship out of this. Its an island, and 
 the storm is forcing the ship on it." 
 
 "That's easier said than done," broke in Cap 
 tain Williams. "We haven't a stitch of canvas on
 
 1HE STORM'S GIFT 119 
 
 her beside the storm stisil. Swing out the boom 
 on the schooner mast men. We've got to work 
 her off, or pile up on the rocks." 
 
 The wind was now shouting its anger in furi 
 ous screams through the bare masts. The hoarse 
 rumble of heavy thunder lent terror to the wild 
 havoc of the midnight storm. The smother of the 
 surf's spume flew high over decks and bridge. The 
 ship danced madly on the crests and frosted peaks 
 of the churning brine as the water mountains 
 bared their surly fangs in their race one after the 
 other. 
 
 "It's no use Clarke," said Capt. Williams, "we 
 can't keep her off shore, there seems to a long 
 stretch of smooth shingle to the southard of that 
 headline. If we can work her beyond the headline 
 we may save ourselves." 
 
 As he spoke the ship barely missed a sharp 
 sand rock standing alone and less than a mile from 
 shore. With able seamanship and good fortune, 
 the crew managed to miss the headline, and in less 
 than ten minutes the staunch Grace and Dell was 
 pounding her keel on the shingle of the beach. 
 
 All was bluster and flurry, adjusting life 
 belts, lowering the life boats and collection of food 
 for salvage should the ship break up, but true to 
 her former experience the good ship took her pun 
 ishment with groans it is true, for when at last 
 she rested fast on the beach the well showed but 
 little water. It was near high tide, when the ves 
 sel grounded and the raging combers were still
 
 120 THE STORM'S GIFT 
 
 flying high over her decks. The storm had passed 
 by, as most of the violent gales of the southern 
 seas are of short duration. It is pitiful to think 
 of how much our voyagers went through in search 
 of the dead sailor's fairyland. 
 
 With the ebb of the tide the waters calmed 
 down and Capt. Williams removed the main hatch 
 and permitted the women and children to come on 
 deck. Nell Evans' first question was uttered in 
 a half hysterical manner, the strain had been too 
 much for her, and with a hysterical laugh she de 
 manded of Abe. 
 
 "Where in Hell are we?" 
 
 It was the first time Abe Evans had ever 
 heard his wife use an oath, and as he took his 
 trembling wife in his arms, he replied. 
 
 "We have just come out of Hell to what 
 seems like Heaven to me, Nellie dear. When the 
 tide goes out and leaves us high and dry, we will 
 go ashore to stay." 
 
 "Do you see any signs of human habitation" 
 inquired Mrs. Clarke, who had remained perfectly 
 calm, through the terrible ordeal. 
 
 "No nothing," replied her husband, "but dear 
 in less than two hours we can go ashore dry shod." 
 
 "I believe the storm has piled us up on what 
 we were looking for," spoke up Capt. Williams, 
 "As the suns glare traced a streak of native cop 
 per across the face of a near by headline. Didn't 
 your dead sailor say there was a streak of copper 
 across the rock near where they landed?"
 
 THE STORM'S GIFT 121 
 
 "By Jove that's so he did Williams. Its a 
 settled fact this is our island home. Thank God 
 for the storm that guided us on the beach, or we 
 should have passed by in the night, never dream 
 ing we were at our journey's end." 
 
 "Looks as though every storm hands us some 
 kind of a gift, but come, get the children together. 
 We can now go ashore. We must all return 
 thanks to God for the preservation of our lives, be 
 fore taking formal possession of our future 
 homes." 
 
 I am most ashamed to admit that but little 
 time was spared to give thanks, on reaching shore, 
 as time was too precious and the livestock and 
 stores must be saved without delay. 
 
 Men, women, and children all lent their help, 
 and soon a couple of teams and wagons were got 
 ten off the ship and the wagons piled high with 
 food and plunder. They only hauled the property 
 to a safe distance out of high tide, and there de 
 posited it to await a selection of a permanent site 
 for their future homes. It was a big task and it 
 seemed they had only just gotten started when 
 the returning tide cut them off from the ship, but 
 this gave them time to move the goods further 
 inshore, and Clarke and the ladies grasped the op 
 portunity to seek out a place for their permanent 
 encampment. 
 
 Hardly had they left the beach when they 
 discovered fertile valleys and pasture lands cover 
 ed with verdant grasses, not unlike our native
 
 122 THE STORM'S GIFT 
 
 clover; as the sailor had stated, rare fruits and 
 nuts abounded every where. Great tangles of 
 wild flowers kissed the senses of our travelers 
 with their ravishing colors and perfumes. Climb 
 ing grape vines had picked their way hand over 
 hand to the tops of forest trees, many feet above 
 their heads. 
 
 They passed a garden of bananas planted by 
 nature. The fruits so profuse it was impossible 
 to walk amongst it. Melons of many hues lent 
 their fragrant scents to mellow the perfume of the 
 flowers. In less than a mile from shore a cold 
 stream of water made its last wild rush along a 
 wooded hillside before losing itself in the great 
 tropical sea. 
 
 "There must be over five hundred acres in 
 this meadow, Clarke," said Williams, "Why would 
 this not make a good place to pitch our homes 
 beside this cool, swift running stream?" as he 
 spoke, a great gamey trout jumped high from the 
 surface of the water and Clarke exclaimed : 
 
 "See that trout? That settles it, this spot is 
 good enough for me." 
 
 "Let us stop here. What shall we call the 
 place Mrs. Evans?" 
 
 "Call it Eden," replied Mrs. Evans. 
 
 "Then Eden it shall be," answered our friends 
 in a chorus, and to the last day the town of Eden 
 was the seat of government of the island.
 
 THE STORM'S GIFT 123 
 
 When they returned to the scene of the wreck 
 the Indian girls had prepared a dinner that would 
 have done justice to a social affair in London. 
 There were young fried grouse, a big buck deer 
 had been killed by Hugh, and savory steaks from 
 his tenderloin were smoking on a large platter. 
 Eggs from wild turkey nests were boiled, and 
 stacked high in the middle of the rough table, 
 brought from the ship. Wild yams, and fruits were 
 prepared in quantities sufficient to satisfy a half 
 hundred starved guests. 
 
 Chairs had been procured |from the ship, 
 and Charley Clarke was seated opposite Ida Moran 
 at table. It was a happy ending of an awful ex 
 perience, to all. Jokes and much laughter fol 
 lowed the course of the meal. Soon after the 
 meal was ended the tide was again low enough to 
 approach the ship with the wagons, and the gett 
 ing of the stores ashore continued day and night 
 until the last item was safely landed high and dry 
 on the fertile banks of Loveland, the name given 
 the island by our travelers. 
 
 Hugh Clarke was amongst the busiest of the 
 toilers, saying little but evidently thinking a great 
 deal. One evening while sitting alone, his mother 
 approached him unobserved. As he looked up, she 
 noted again the telltale tear on his cheek. 
 
 "Why Hughie dear," remarked his mother, 
 "have you been grating horseradish again?" 
 
 "No," replied her son,"it's the same root I 
 was grating before I left Oregon."
 
 124 THE STORM'S GIFT 
 
 "Tell me son, there is something troubling 
 you. You are so quiet and strange. Aren't you 
 happy here with your parents and friends ?" 
 
 "Mother," replied her son, "I will never be 
 happy anywhere without my little Lottie. She 
 seems part of me. I know you think it a childish 
 whim, but it is different. She seems mine. Didn't 
 I take her from the great cruel sea ? I can never 
 be happy mother, until I can clasp her hand and 
 beg her to forgive me for scolding her so much 
 for being a girl." 
 
 "Oh she has forgotten that long ago, Hugh. 
 She is a great big girl now, Son, most a young 
 woman, and perhaps forgotten you." 
 
 "Don't say that Mother, for in less than Jive 
 years, I shall build a boat and go and find her." 
 
 The mother only sighed. She was sorry for 
 her love-sick boy, but still she firmly believed that 
 time would heal his imaginary wounds. 
 
 Men were in the forests falling trees. Clarke 
 and Williams were constructing a dam across the 
 stream for water power to run their saws and 
 grind their grain. The canvas of the ship made 
 excellent shelter from the rain and there was no 
 hurry for houses until the mill was completed and 
 the lumber sawed. The women folk were planting 
 garden and shrubbery. 
 
 Soon after their arrival the entire colony had 
 met and organized. Clarke was elected suprcrne 
 Justice, an office that carried with it full powers 
 to create and execute the laws. Abe Evan? had
 
 THE STORM'S GIFT 125 
 
 been elected as a sort of sheriff, but in that offi 
 cial capacity, he was not in much demand. Surely 
 nothing was left to be desired in this earthly 
 paradise. Whole days were spent in cruising over 
 the island and on a rough estimate it was at least 
 twenty miles long by twelve miles wide. Great 
 tangles of oysters covered the beds of small ba> s 
 and creeks where they entered the sea. The tide 
 flats were a solid pack of salt water clams. Great 
 bands of fattened wild geese and ducks fed on the 
 swampy meadows; so tame they merely walked 
 away on the approach of the hunters. A band of 
 chattering parrots had selected a permanent home 
 close to the party's encampment. 
 
 There were monkeys everywhere, and the lat 
 ter proved to be a great nuisance. FriendH' bear 
 fed on the berry patches, and merelv gave a snort 
 and resumed eating the berries on the approach 
 of strangers. 
 
 At dusk on a nearby fresh wate * lak the air 
 was full of leaping trout. Rice fields were ripen 
 ing near the water's edge of all streams. 
 
 "I wonder what a person could do with mon 
 ey in a place like this?" remarked Williams to 
 Clarke, as they paddled slowly a forest .stream in 
 search of another valley for pasturage. 
 
 "Well", replied Clarke, "Our boy Hugh talks 
 constantly of returning to the states. He has his 
 heart set on that baby Lottie. I suppose she is 
 no longer a baby now. Must be quite a stripling 
 of a girl. Don't suppose she has g ? ven him M sec-
 
 126 THE STORM'S GIFT 
 
 ond thought in years, but that makes no difference 
 to Hugh. He is already planning to build a 
 schooner from the material of th.? wrecked ship. 
 There is nothing lacking, and when the boy sets 
 his head to do anything, he generally does it." 
 
 As he finished speaking, a great broad valley 
 came in view; and such a valley: Rich grasses 
 were swaying in the morning sea breeze; wild 
 game were grazing about the borders of the mead 
 ow; a grove of wild plums of various colors cover 
 ed the trees and ground beneath. As Clarke 
 stepped ashore, his eye fell on the ground for a 
 minute, and he picked up a small object from the 
 shore. 
 
 "That aint an agate," he exclaimed, "Its a 
 nugget." 
 
 "Why sure its a nugget," said Williams, 
 "Good lord, there is everything her but dia 
 monds." 
 
 "Don't be so sure there are not diamonds too," 
 remarked Clarke. "The climate is about right for 
 diamond fields." 
 
 "Guess we better stroll around and pick a few 
 of those nuggets though, for if your boy Hugh is 
 going after that girl Lottie, it might come handy, 
 as a few sacks of nuggets is a very great argument 
 with some females." 
 
 "Nuggets didn't cut any ice with his mother, 
 Williams, my entire capital was less than the val 
 ue of this chunk of virgin gold in my hand." 
 
 "All women are not Lizzie Clarkes, old man,"
 
 THE STORM'S GIFT 127 
 
 replied his friend, "and it won't be a bad idea to 
 stow away a few things of value like that nugget, 
 that takes up little room, and seems to be the 
 goal of most men and many women. It will be din 
 ner hour by the time we reach home" resumed 
 Williams, "and the pull up here has given me an 
 appetite, besides I don't like to keep the women 
 waiting meals. I've cooked enough to know how 
 that goes." 
 
 On their arrival at the camp they met Nell 
 Evans with a worried look on her face. 
 
 "Mrs. Moran is very sick," she said, "I don't 
 understand what can ail her, she is in high fever, 
 and delirious part of the time. Ida is most fran 
 tic. She hasn't been well for several days, but 
 did not complain. How I wish I knew just what 
 to do for her." 
 
 "If you can't help her none of the rest of us 
 can, Nellie. You are our Doctor. You are our 
 main hope, and dependence in sickness Mrs. 
 Evans, and I suggest that you give your time en 
 tirely to the study and practice of that most won 
 derful art. You know Frank Williams brought 
 with him several large volumes treating on medi 
 cine, and surgery so pray give every spare mom 
 ent to its study. You know the future of the col 
 ony depends largely on your skill, and perhaps 
 there are strange fevers in this tropical climate 
 that requires special treatment and skill." 
 
 She left the man to return to the patient and 
 nothing more was seen of Nell Evans until the
 
 128 THE STORM'S GIFT 
 
 next day, when she reported that Mrs. Moran was 
 constantly declining and held out but little hope 
 for her recovery. Poor Ida and her brother were 
 prostrated at their mother's condition. It was 
 such a short time ago they had lost their father, 
 and it seemed a terrible blow to be left amongst 
 practical strangers on an island of the southern 
 seas. 
 
 That night Mrs. Moran died. She was fully 
 conscious to the last. She had begged her children 
 to sing a solemn hymn they loved from their Irish 
 church. Their trembling sweet voices held as 
 steady as possible by the sorrowing children, was 
 a revelation to the Clarke Colony. None of the 
 party had ever heard them sing before, and the 
 charm of their voices was a thing to be remem 
 bered by all. Mrs. Moran died at midnight. Her 
 loving children with heads bowed on her breast 
 sobbed out their anguish. 
 
 Her grave occupies a flower decked knoll 
 amidst a garden of roses. Her death cast a gloom 
 over all for days, but the constant new wonders, 
 ever coming before them, helped our friends par 
 tially to overcome their sorrow. 
 
 The dam on the little river torrent had been 
 completed. A massive overshot water wheel had 
 been mounted under a large flume running brim 
 full of water. 
 
 "What amount of horse-power do you figure 
 that wheel will develop ?" inquired Charley Clarke
 
 PH 
 
 s 
 
 D 
 H 
 (/) 
 
 O 
 
 pq
 
 THE STORM'S GIFT 129 
 
 of Abe Evans, as they stood before the wheel 
 just prior to turning on the water. 
 
 "Figure is right," replied Evans. "I have 
 just figured it out exactly. It is no guess work at 
 all. That wheel is thirty feet in diameter and it 
 has a four foot breast. It will carry three tons of 
 water on a fifteen foot leverage at forty revolu 
 tions per minute, it will develop seventy horse 
 power, and there is water here for ten more 
 wheels, so we will hardly lack for power to run 
 machinery of any description." 
 
 Soon the sawing of lumber commenced and 
 building of houses was in order. The elaborate 
 home standing on the heights near the west bor 
 der of the town of Eden was the first built. It was 
 designed and finished by Paul Likens and the 
 scroll work about the porches and gables was so 
 intricate and delicate it was easy to believe it was 
 executed by a master. Paul's wife had presented 
 him with two more girl babies since last we gave 
 them mention, and for a wonder uncle Hugh just 
 worshipped the curly headed children. My, how 
 ones ideas change as one grows older. In three 
 years the island was a busy hive of industry. 
 
 Hugh gave some of his time to hunting and 
 was ever an inveterate fisherman. His greatest 
 trouble was to find a spot where the fish was shy 
 and hard to take. For close to the sea, there was 
 no sport in angling owing to the great schools 
 of trout that came in to seek the spawning 
 ground.
 
 130 THE STORM'S GIFT 
 
 Chapter XJI 
 Charley Clarke's Wooing. 
 
 "Dearest Ida, please listen." 
 
 The speaker was Charley Clarke. "It is now 
 most two years since your dear mother died," 
 continued he, "You know sweetheart, I have lov 
 ed you since the day I beheld your sweet face as 
 you stood so bravely resigned in that open dory 
 in the great heaving tropical sea. I have spoken 
 to your brother, Ida dear, and he has wished me 
 luck in my suit." The lisp of a nightbird strained 
 through the open window. Ida stood beside him, 
 her face turned from him, bowing at the shrine of 
 his great love, the firelight had smothered the 
 darkness into a peaceful maze. 
 
 "God! girl!" continued Charley, "I cannot live 
 longer without you. I have waited so long." He 
 had panned out the last remaining jewel of his 
 soul. 
 
 At last the girl looked up her eyes aglow. 
 
 "Charley, my lover, I too have loved you since 
 the first. Oh I am so happy, so happy," and she 
 clasped her arms about his neck in the happiness 
 of her new found shrine. 
 
 When the young boys learned of the ap 
 proaching wedding of Charley Clarke and Ida 
 Moran, young Evans remarked to several boys 
 about his age.
 
 THE STORM'S GIFT 131 
 
 "We'll give 'em a charivari that will spoil 
 their slumbers for one night at least," and the 
 island kids made their word good. 
 
 Martin Clarke had never married a white 
 couple before, and the thought came to him, that 
 perhaps, he hadn't authority to do so. Although 
 he had been invested with executive power by the 
 entire population. 
 
 "It sort of worries me" said he "to do this 
 thing, especially as he is my own son." Then a 
 happy thought struck him. "Well why didn't I 
 think of that before," he mused to himself,"There 
 is Capt. Williams, with a master's ticket, signed 
 by the highest authority of the states. By Jove 
 we'll just let Gus tie the knot." 
 
 The dainty finery the ladies brought forth to 
 deck the bride in for her wedding is almost beyond 
 description. But the women folk had had a free 
 hand and a full purse at Astoria, before they left 
 there, and it appeared that they had taken their 
 husbands at their word and spent plenty of mon 
 ey. For the wedding gown of Ida Moran would 
 make many a bride of today envious. 
 
 The wedding was a pretty affair. There were 
 orange blossoms and bridesmaids. There was a 
 wedding march by Mrs. Clarke on a large chapel 
 organ Charley had procured for his mother. There 
 were kisses and good wishes. Rice and old shoes, 
 and last but not least, a charivari that lasted 
 until daylight the next morning, notwithstanding 
 the young married couple plied the young scound-
 
 132 THE STORM'S GIFT 
 
 rels with home-made candies and rarest fruits. 
 
 "Give 'em plenty/' sang out the Williams boy. 
 "There will be no divorces on this island so this 
 pair will only have the pleasure of getting mar 
 ried once." 
 
 The gifts showered on the young married 
 couple set them up completely for housekeeping, 
 and I sometimes wonder if some of my young 
 readers would not be willing to change places with 
 Charley Clarke, and his charming young wife, 
 Ida. 
 
 When it rained down on that island, you 
 couldn't really call it a rain, it was just a great 
 pour down. Furious sheets of water fell in tor 
 rents for an hour or two, then the sun shone forth 
 and the perfume kissed breezes smote the senses 
 with a joy next to intoxication. 
 
 "Gosh darn your darn skin !" 
 
 It was Abe Evans in mortal struggle with a 
 great brown bear. He had shot the beast and 
 thought it dead. He had carelessly laid his gun 
 aside and approached what he thought was a dead 
 bear. On his approach the animal had reared on 
 its hind legs, and grasping Evans in his arms was 
 slowly squeezing our hunter's life out. Evans at 
 last succeeded in drawing his hunting knife and 
 as he uttered the swear words above mentioned 
 he had succeeded in plunging the sharp long blade 
 into the animal's heart. 
 
 "I'll never shake hands with another bear un 
 til I shoot him once for luck after he is dead."
 
 THE STORM'S GIFT 133 
 
 soliloquized Evans. "These overgrown opossums 
 in this country are new to me. Guess I'll leave the 
 brute here and hike for home, losing so much 
 blood makes me see black spots," and with this 
 remark Evans fell senseless beside his enemy, the 
 bear. 
 
 Night came and no Abe Evans appeared. 
 Shortly after dark Nellie became alarmed and 
 roused up the Colony. A hasty search was or 
 ganized and to their joy they were met by Flora, 
 Evans' pet collie dog, and while whining her de 
 light at meeting her friends, she turned on the 
 back track and led Nellie and her party three 
 miles through the timber where Evans and the 
 bear laid. 
 
 Evans had regained consciousness but was 
 unable to move hand or foot. As he had been cut 
 and scratched from head to toe by the vicious 
 brute, they hastily prepared a stretcher and car 
 ried the injured man to his home, where Nellie 
 again showed her skill with needle and cat gut. 
 A week later found Evans up and about swearing 
 vengeance on all bear kind, and as proof that he 
 meant what he said, should you visit the Evans 
 home you would find the floors covered with great 
 tanned bear rugs from kitchen to garret. 
 
 Buds, blossoms and ripe fruits hung on the 
 bushes and trees constantly. Flowers of the gard 
 ens blazed in the morning splendor, only drooping 
 slightly in the heat. 
 
 Hugh Clarke had finished the ways for a
 
 134 THE STORM'S GIFT 
 
 schooner. The keel was to be ninety feet long. 
 His brother-in-law Paul Likens, was as handy at 
 ship building as he was at building houses. Great 
 forests of a species of cedar known in Oregon as 
 Port Orford, were close at hand. Plenty of spruce 
 abounded on the lowlands for ships knees. It was 
 an ideal place for shipbuilding. The sawmill 
 could handle any timbers necessary in the con 
 struction of a boat of the size proposed. The bolts 
 and hardware of the Grace and Dell had been sal 
 vaged and the supply was sufficient to build two 
 boats tHe size Hugh proposed building, for be it 
 known, our friend, Hugh Clarke, had not for one 
 moment given up his promise to some day return 
 to the states and even sail to France if necessary 
 to find his darling Lottie. The young man spent 
 hours pondering over the problem of how he could 
 excuse himself for his selfish brutish manner in 
 which he had treated the child, and often in the 
 seclusion of his bedroom he would take from his 
 trunk a package of flaxen curls. They were the 
 curls he had so ruthlessly cut from the child's head 
 the morning before she left for Washington. 
 
 The cutting of small grain was at its height. 
 Wheat and oats stood four feet high in the fields 
 and was being now cut down with a horse-drawn 
 mowing machine that had just been invented and 
 placed on the market before Frank Williams left 
 Chicago. It's true enough that in tropical clim 
 ates white people become lazy. It is so in all trop 
 ical countries, and Williams was interested in the
 
 THE STORM'S GIFT 135 
 
 building of Hugh's ship, thinking it would be 
 handy to sail to some island or perhaps even China 
 or Japan, and find some cheap labor, but on 
 broaching the subject to Hugh, he was advised by 
 that young man that after he had performed the 
 mission next to his heart, he could use the schoon 
 er as a nigger transport if he chose, but until then 
 no colored feet would soil the decks of his ship 
 that was to be named the Lottie. 
 
 Had there been market for produce the entire 
 population would have become rich in a few years. 
 As it was there was nothing left for one to wish 
 for. Already they were making sugar from the 
 great wild cane brakes. The women in spare times 
 were weaving the most delicate cloths and laces. 
 Great vats of ripening wine from the mission 
 grapes stood in cool shades along a limpid stream. 
 The wine wrung from the mission grape will 
 stand for years in open vats, gaining new sparkle 
 and bouquet. 
 
 This wine was always served with the Sunday 
 feasts, held in a temple built to conduct spiritual 
 istic meetings, and were I not afraid of raising an 
 argument I could tell you many strange things 
 brought out at these simple meetings that proves 
 beyond a doubt that the spirit of our dead can re 
 turn to us if they choose. 
 
 One morning Hugh informed his mother he 
 would like some provision prepared for his pack as 
 he was taking a trip to a distant part of the island 
 that had not as yet been visited by our friends.
 
 136 THE STORM'S GIFT 
 
 He asked her to put in plenty of bread and spices 
 as he would take his gun and rod and with the 
 fruits there was little use of carrying anything 
 more. He had picked up some sticks of timber on 
 the beach that resembled oak in its toughness, 
 and he believed it came from some remote corner 
 of the island. He was much in need of this type 
 of material for the boat, and was sparing no 
 means in his power to procure the best timber 
 available. He left soon after he had breakfasted. 
 The trali led him beside a cool rushing stream. 
 A deep smooth path had been formed by the hoofs 
 and paws of animals -of the island who had fol 
 lowed the stream for its shade for years. For 
 miles the youth gave no thought to his surround 
 ings. The watch fires of his memory were hard 
 aglow in thought. Recollections of his treatment 
 of little Lottie haunted him until his shoulders 
 drooped like willows around a forest meadow. In 
 his new found impassioned idolatry for the child 
 he began to realize the sterner realities of life. 
 
 A great eagle laid its course toward the 
 morning sun. "I believe that bird is a good token. 
 I think I'll follow the course set by that American 
 emblem, he mused to himself. Its the first of its 
 kind I have seen in Loveland," and in the careless 
 wisdom of youth he did well to follow the great 
 bird. He had just arrived at the age where his 
 life was sweetened by dreamy thought. As he 
 left the swift running stream to cross the moun 
 tain : nature had chisled a trail across its rim. Al-
 
 THE STORM'S GIFT 137 
 
 ways as he walked on, his thoughts were of Lot 
 tie. It puzzled him to form a plan for laying his 
 first wreath of love at her feet. Like a miser he 
 was hoarding his joy for the future. The soft 
 warm wind kissed the mountain roses and spread 
 a passion of perfume about him. 
 
 "By crackens !" he spoke aloud. "If she were 
 only here," then his face clouded as his memory 
 hung on the shrine of a fresh regret. As he 
 began the descent of the mountain, he was amazed 
 at a great overhanging ledge of crystal quartz. 
 He left the trail to examine the gorgeous cliff 
 sparkling in the sunlight more closely. Judge his 
 surprise on reaching the foot of the cliff to find 
 many strings of native gold tracing its way over 
 the face of the entire formation. 
 
 "It's good things do not exist in the United 
 States as they do here," he soliloquized, "or people 
 would starve to death. They would become too 
 lazy to feed themselves." 
 
 He gave but little time to admiring the great 
 enameled rock, as his mission was hard wood to 
 complete his ship so he could go in search of his 
 treasured Lottie. 
 
 Under a magnificent bread fruit tree, he ate 
 his lunch. After satisfying his appetite, he laid 
 down beneath a dense flowering vine to rest until 
 the cool of the evening before resuming his trav 
 els. 
 
 When he awoke a smile was still in his heart. 
 He had dreamed through the rosary of his awak-
 
 138 THE STORM'S GIFT 
 
 ening love. The sun was kneeling at the foot of 
 the horizon. Great shadows writhed with the 
 swaying of the forest; soon the twilight of the 
 softened sky was paneled in colors beyond the 
 brush of an artist. He had resumed his pack and 
 was hurrying along a new found trail, he had 
 stopped to drink from a chilly spring, when on 
 raising his eyes he beheld an object plucking fruit 
 from a clump of tangled dwarfed trees. He gazed 
 for a minute in surprise and wonder, then arose to 
 his feet. As he did so the creature spied him, and 
 with a scream of terror ran with the swiftness of 
 a deer through the tangle of tree and vine. 
 
 "By crackins that's a human," he exclaimed, 
 "least ways, it ran away on two legs. Yes, and it 
 had long hair hanging down its back. It's a won 
 der none of us have ever seen it before, but it must 
 be over fifteen miles from Eden. I think I'll try 
 and overtake the creature. Wish I could have 
 gotten a closer look at it. Perhaps there are oth 
 ers hereabout, anyway I'm fresh with rest and 
 food and I'll give the thing a chase." 
 
 He darted rapidly forward in the direction 
 the object had taken and it was little trouble 
 through the broken grasses to follow the trail. 
 Soon he left the timber and came out on a great 
 open prairie. At a distance of a half mile he could 
 see the flying object just entering another belt 
 of timber. 
 
 "By crackins that critter is handy on its 
 legs," he spoke aloud, "it gained nearly a half mile
 
 THE STORM'S GIFT 139 
 
 on me since we started and I've been traveling 
 some." At this he put forth extra effort and in 
 less than fifteen minutes he was entering the strip 
 of timber at the point where he had seen the pe 
 culiar human enter, for by this time he was sure 
 the creature was human. The forest was so 
 dense there were no grasses, so he lost the trail. 
 He was wandering aimlessly on, having given up 
 all hopes of finding the creature when at the base 
 of a small hill he noticed the mouth of a cave. It 
 was becoming dark so he crept up to the mouth of 
 the cave carefully, and set himself to listen if the 
 place was inhabited by man or beast. He had not 
 waited long when a low pitiful sobbing in a wom 
 an's voice broke on his ear. 
 
 What was he to do ? It was now densely dark 
 in the forest, so he decided to wait until daylight 
 before discovering himself to what he knew now 
 to be a sorrowing woman. 
 
 So Hugh sat down close to the mouth of 
 the cave to await the dawn of the coming day. 
 It was a long weary wait. Several times during 
 the night he could hear the pitiful crying of the 
 woman, and short sentences of words spoken as 
 he believed in French. 
 
 At last the dawn found a path amongst the 
 forest trees, and a slant of daylight entered the 
 cave for several feet, but Hugh on peering in could 
 see nothing of the strange inhabitant. At last he 
 decided to enter the cave, and this he cautiously 
 did. As he uttered the words "Lady have no
 
 140 THE STORM'S GIFT 
 
 fear," the woman sprang from a niche in the rock 
 on his shoulders like a furious lioness. It was all 
 the youth could do to keep her from tearing out 
 his eyes, and he was compelled to use considerable 
 force to protect himself. At last she fell panting 
 and exhausted at his feet. The glare of her eyes 
 in the darkened cavern resembled live coals in a 
 smouldering fire. 
 
 Hugh spoke in a gentle soothing tone, but the 
 only reply was the smothered sobbing like he had 
 heard before. "You must come with me poor 
 woman," spoke Hugh, "I cannot leave you here by 
 yourself. How long have you lived alone this 
 way ?" he continued, never dreaming he would get 
 a reply. 
 
 "I'm not alone" the tattered creature an 
 swered in a sweet voice, with a French accent. 
 "My husband and baby are with me, Hush !" she 
 continued "or you will wake the baby. She is 
 sleeping in her crib beside our bed. My husband is 
 at work at the office. He is very busy getting 
 things arranged so we can leave for America by 
 the next boat, which sails from London." 
 
 "But my dear woman," argued Hugh, "You 
 must come with me, you are alone here." 
 
 "Kindly leave my house, Sir," commanded the 
 woman, and it now dawned on Hugh, that the poor 
 creature had lost her reason. 
 
 There was nothing left for Hugh to do but 
 formulate some plan to get the woman away from 
 this place. He well knew that most demented peo-
 
 THE STORM'S GIFT 141 
 
 pie were very shrewd in some matters, so he set 
 himself thinking up a plausible story that would 
 appeal to the poor creature. At last he struck 
 an idea. 
 
 "Madam," he said in a lowered voice "Your 
 husband is ill at his office the doctor has sent me 
 for you, as he dare not move him until he is better, 
 will you come with me or shall I call a cab?" 
 
 "Oh wait until I get my darling baby. I have 
 walked to the office many times," and as she spoke 
 she darted into a dark corner of the cave and in a 
 moment returned with a large rag doll clasped in 
 her arms. Here was a problem for an older and 
 wiser head to ponder over. How was he to get the 
 poor demented creature over the trails fifteen 
 miles or more to the town of Eden. 
 
 "Let me have your baby, Madam, and take 
 my arm," and as the poor creature handed Hugh 
 the bundle of rags wrapped about a pine stick, she 
 tucked the rags gently about a pair of imaginary 
 baby feet. 
 
 "Et iss gude of you to carry her," the poor 
 woman said, "I have a arm injure. It iss from a 
 fall from ze big rock near ze sea." The woman 
 had lapsed into broken French and ended her 
 speech, in that language, and it is needless to say 
 Hugh could not understand a word. 
 
 Thus they traveled on for some time, when a 
 gust of wind blew back the rags from her arm, 
 and Hugh saw that the arm had been broken, and 
 the point of fracture had never united. The worn-
 
 142 THE STORM'S GIFT 
 
 an begged to take the baby for a while, and after 
 arguing for a time he was compelled to hand the 
 wooden and rag bundle to the poor creature who 
 clasped it to her breast crooning a French lullaby, 
 and smoothing back imaginary curls. Again her 
 mind seemed brighter and she said : 
 
 "It is but a few blocks now, you can take the 
 baby, I must dry my eyes and smooth my hair, as 
 I must not act alarmed when I meet Jules. Did 
 the Doctor say he was seriously ill?" she contin 
 ued. "It is so strange for him he has never been 
 ill a day since our marriage." 
 
 Thus they walked for miles. The woman 
 seemed to never tire. They had reached the trail 
 at the spot where Hugh had left the small river 
 to cross the mountain. Anchored to a sapling was 
 a small boat used for hunting and fishing by Nell 
 Evans and her husband. Hugh was about to 
 take possession of 'the boat when Nell's cheery 
 voice rang out, and at the same time Mrs. Evans 
 spied the strange woman and the make believe 
 baby in Hughs arms. 
 
 Hugh placed his finger over his lips to com 
 mand silence, and straightening himself up said to 
 his poor companion: 
 
 "This is the nurse and doctor, we will get in 
 their carriage, and hasten to your sick husband." 
 
 This speech was enough for the shrewd 
 Evans to grasp the situation and as the demented 
 creature seated herself in the stern seat, she said : 
 
 "Give me the baby please, Monsieur, and have
 
 THE STORM'S GIFT 143 
 
 the cabman drive us swift as possible. Jules will 
 be impatient for me." 
 
 The pull down the river was swift, and as the 
 hazy moon broadened above the rim of the hori 
 zon, Abe Evans left the boat and hastened on 
 ahead to inform his friends of the peculiar situa 
 tion. 
 
 A room in the Clarke home was hastily pre 
 pared for the new comer, and as she entered the 
 room she looked inquiringly about, and exclaim 
 ed: 
 
 "Where is Jules ? Don't tell me he is dead, he 
 was so well and happy this morning when he left 
 home!" 
 
 At this she resumed fondling the rag baby. 
 Her eyes became duller and her mind a blank. 
 
 Nell Evans was summoned to take care of the 
 peculiar case, and with feminine skill she succeed 
 ed in removing the rags from the demented wom 
 an, and clothed her in clean dainty night robes, 
 then placed her in a bed so cozy it brought a new 
 sparkle to her eye. Nell, while removing the rags 
 from the woman, had discovered a delicate gold 
 chain about her neck, and attached to it was a 
 golden locket, with the monogram "J. F." and 
 around the lower rim of the trinket were the 
 words from "Jules Fuquay to his wife Dec. 25, 
 1859" that's the same name; sure its the same 
 name of our sea waif, "Lottie Fuquay." 
 
 The poor patient had fallen into a low fever, 
 then elapsed into unconsciousness. Nell had dis-
 
 144 THE STORM'S GIFT 
 
 covered the pitiful condition of her arm, and had 
 with skill brought the parts together, and placed 
 the member in a fracture box, not having material 
 for a plaster cast. 
 
 Hugh had retraced his steps to the southern 
 portion of the island, where he had discovered the 
 demented woman and given up his hunt for hard 
 Wood in order to take care of the helpless creature. 
 Less than a mile from the cave he found a body 
 of oak, for at least it bore acorns. Still the trees 
 were much taller and straighter than any he had 
 ever seen before, but he accounted for this from 
 the fact that it stood much thicker on the ground 
 than any body of oak he had ever before seen. 
 Soon he had a number of men in the oak forest, 
 and a sufficient amount was gotten out to serve 
 his needs. The heavy logs fastened together were 
 floated during a calm to a point where he had 
 constructed the ways for his ship, ship knees, keel 
 kelson, masts and decking were all on the ground 
 Rigging and hardware were in abundance. The 
 crops for the middle season were in the bins. 
 Dances and amateur theatricals had been going 
 on for weeks, everybody was happy and contented. 
 Only our hero, Hugh, seemed worried and dissat 
 isfied for today Mrs. Evans had confided to him 
 the secret of the finding of the trinket about the 
 stranger's neck. 
 
 "There may be hundreds of Fuquay families 
 in the world," said Nellie Evans to Hugh. "Still 
 this woman may be a relative. She seems much
 
 THE STORM'S GIFT 145 
 
 brighter at times. I have offered her a large life 
 like wax doll your sister Jennie used to have, but 
 she would have nothing to do with it, and only 
 yesterday morning she demanded to know how 
 that filthy stick and bundle of rags came in her 
 bed. I believe Hugh, the poor thing will regain 
 her senses." 
 
 "Mrs. Evans you certainly work miracles, and 
 that man Abe of yours is another wonder. It isn't 
 because he is lazy, but he has invented a machine 
 to saw down great trees along the creeks with 
 bolts of wire. Only this morning I saw it working. 
 He has a floating scow with an undershot water 
 wheel on the creek, which he moves about at will. 
 He has two spools to hold ordinary fence wire. 
 I mean the smooth kind: on one is placed a coil of 
 wire. This apparatus is dogged to the tree, the 
 end of the wire is carried around the tree and fas 
 tened to the empty spool. The wire as it is pulled 
 from the full spool of wire runs through a crimp 
 that cuts small nicks in the smooth wire. A clutch 
 shifts the wire from one spool to the other. The 
 water wheel in the creek is geared to give the cor 
 rect speed. There is no friction as the sawing sur 
 face is the same on all sides. In less than five min 
 utes I saw his invention fall a tree that measured 
 five feet at the base." 
 
 "So that's what Abe has been at for so long," 
 said Nellie "I thought it rather strange, he hasn't 
 kissed me more than twice a day for over a month. 
 I tell you young man, a woman wants affection.
 
 146 THE STORM'S GIFT 
 
 It don't matter what her other surroundings are, 
 if she gets plenty of love. Hugh you are still most 
 a boy, but remember this, a woman lives for love. 
 Her husband's caress at fifty is dearer if possible 
 than it was at twenty. I tell you boy, they're all 
 alike when it comes to love. The queen on her 
 throne, or the scarlet damsel of the underworld, 
 all live for the same thing, for that greater treas 
 ure of all to women a brave man's love. But I 
 won't lecture you, Hugh, you do not know yet 
 what love means to all as they grow older." 
 
 "Don't be too sure Mrs. Evans, maybe I am 
 wiser than you suspect." 
 
 "Why replied Nell, "I haven't noticed you 
 paying any attention to our limited number of 
 eligible girls." 
 
 "Right you are Mrs. Evans, my love was born 
 from a storm. It is growing to be a storm within 
 me. I am counting the days and months, until 
 my ship is completed, and I will sail forth from 
 this island home in search of my heart's desire, 
 my own Darling Lottie." 
 
 "That's so," replied Nell, "your girl from the 
 storm was named Lottie. Strange too, my pa 
 tient often in her rambling talks, calls her imag 
 inary baby Lottie."
 
 THE STORM'S GIFT 147 
 
 Chapter XIII 
 The Hula Hula Dance. 
 
 "What in hell is that bunch of things swimm 
 ing or floating into the mouth of the bay?" ex 
 claimed Captain Williams, as he pointed to a cur 
 ious fleet of moving objects just entering the bay, 
 that seemed too large for birds, and too small 
 for boats. 
 
 "If you swear like that again before the chil 
 dren, I will get out a petition to have you recalled 
 from the office of sheriff of Loveland," flashingly 
 spoke up his wife. "Gus", she continued, "it isn't 
 necessary to cuss just because you are a sea cap 
 tain, nor is it absolutely necessary for a mule 
 skinner to swear, although I believe they have 
 greater provocation." 
 
 "Huh," replied her husband." Darned if 
 there ain't some kind of animals in them dish- 
 pans floating out there. By Gar! one of them is 
 waving a rag of some kind. Come on, Clarke, let's 
 go down to the beach and find out what kind of 
 monkey coops are invading us, maybe we will have 
 a fight on our hands." 
 
 The tops of the tiny floats were catching a 
 breath of air from the afternoon breeze. There 
 was a steering appliance at the rear of each pecu 
 liar shaped float, and as Clarke and Williams ap-
 
 148 THE STORM'S GIFT 
 
 preached the waters edge, the entire fleet headed 
 toward them. They soon discovered there was but 
 one occupant in each float, and that he or she, was 
 lying in a bed of down plucked from the breasts 
 of sea birds. As the occupants of the tiny floats 
 began arising to their feet, it became evident that 
 they were also natives of a tropical climate for 
 barring necklaces of pearl beads about their necks, 
 arms and ankles, together with a meager loin cloth 
 woven from sea fibre, they Were literally naked. 
 
 As a somewhat larger float touched the shore, 
 a male occupant arose to his feet, and with a 
 broad smile and a lavish flourish of both arms 
 he began clapping his hands and stepped ashore. 
 He knelt in the sands and drew a circle with his 
 finger in the sand of the beach. He next traced 
 several simple characters within the drawn cir 
 cle, after which he took a pinch of the sand from 
 the circle, and threw it high into the air. Then 
 he drew from the girdle about his waist, a small 
 green twig from some vine or tree, and moving 
 amongst the new comers, who had by this time 
 all landed, struck each lightly on the breast with 
 the twig. As he did so each member of his party 
 of which there was at least thirty, joined hands 
 and circled about him, a murmur of vocal melody 
 came from their lips swelling in volume as they in 
 creased their speed about their leader. When the 
 chant arose, to a torrent of blended voices, they 
 separated hands, and a dance took place that no 
 words of mine can describe. I have been told that
 
 THE STORM'S GIFT 149 
 
 later a dance has been exhibited called the Hula 
 Hula. Still I know no such dance has been toler 
 ated in civilized society. 
 
 It was a gorgeous play of female muscles. 
 Muscles that are beyond belief. Men of today do 
 not dream that the wife by his side is made up of 
 a web of muscle springs so powerful and intricate, 
 that she could if she chose, delight and mystify 
 him with the splendid control of this web work 
 of charming muscles. 
 
 The entire colony had gathered about the fren 
 zied dancers. Willie Clarke was peeping through 
 his fingers at a maiden who was more active 
 than the others. Her skin was almost white as 
 her nakedness would permit in that climate. 
 
 "I think that young one there, that wiggles 
 twice while the rest seem to only wiggle once, 
 had ought to get behind a tree or something." 
 
 "I don't see why," answered young Ed Will 
 iams, "She has got as much clothes aboard as the 
 rest of the gang. I wonder if they don't ever get 
 tired." 
 
 "It ain't that," said Will, "But she looks too 
 decent to be going about just clothed in her 
 beauty. Just look at the muscles on her, they look 
 as hard as marble. Hugh Clarke ain't got any 
 thing on that girl for muscle." 
 
 "That ain't muscle you ninney," spoke up 
 his friend, "That's her chest, she's a girl, and 
 girls don't have muscles, they have chests to 
 breathe with."
 
 150 THE STORM'S GIFT 
 
 "Don't tell me girls don't have muscles. See 
 the bound of her flesh like the play of hamrcers 
 on a mighty anvil." 
 
 At the conclusion of the dance, our friends 
 invited the savages, for such they regarded them, 
 to the town hall, and prepared a feast for them. 
 It was difficult to get head or tail as to where 
 they came from, as the savage crew were poor at 
 sign language, and their guttural squeaks sound 
 ed much like the quacking of ducks and geese. 
 At last after many signs and much quacking 
 our friends were able to understand that the party 
 lived on an island about twenty miles distant. 
 It seems there were several of these islands, and 
 it was a custom of the lazy inhabitants to get into 
 their boats made of feathers, and glued together 
 with a waterproof glue, and float in the calm 
 weather from one island to the other. The wind 
 had blown them out of their course on this oc 
 casion, hence their unexpected visit to Loveland. 
 
 Lottie Fuquay was now a tall, handsome girl 
 of seventeen. She had every advantage in music 
 and education. And was her father's pride and 
 joy. Paris with its famous beauties boasted that 
 the charming brilliant girl would be a reigning 
 belle on her appearance in society. 
 
 Be it known to the credit of the French, that 
 they do not foist their daughters on society as 
 early as they do in either England or America. 
 
 Baron Fuquay had again been appointed
 
 THE STORM'S GIFT 151 
 
 French consul to the United States, and was to 
 leave with his daughter and servants in a few 
 weeks. 
 
 The girl was all in a flutter with excitement, 
 and could hardly await the day for sailing, for in 
 her heart she believed that when she reached 
 Washington, she would find a way to reach Ore 
 gon, and see her old friends, and most of all her 
 idol, Hugh. 
 
 The journey across the Atlantic at that time 
 was slow and tedious, but our distinguished trav 
 elers met with every courtesy available aboard 
 ships in those times. 
 
 On their arrival at Washington, Baron Fu- 
 quay secured one of the handsomest residences 
 in the city, and set up housekeeping with his 
 charming daughter as the mistress of the house. 
 
 I hardly need say that the beautiful French 
 girl became at once the rage in Washington so 
 ciety. Her father assisted her in the many social 
 functions they gave, and the Fuquay parties set 
 the standard for Washington society affairs. 
 
 "Aren't you happy, Lottie dear?" inquired 
 her father of his daughter late one night after an 
 especially brilliant affair at their home. 
 
 "Why yes," replied the daughter, "only I 
 pine for a vacation, a trip to the west, a chance to 
 hunt and fish as I did when a child." 
 
 "I am afraid it will be impossible to realize 
 your wishes daughter, this season," replied the
 
 152 THE STORM'S CxIFT 
 
 Baron, "as I shall be especially busy for months 
 with deep diplomatic matters that involve both 
 France and America." 
 
 However a party of the Baron's friends were 
 going to Florida for the winter, and Lottie was 
 permitted by her father to join them. Although 
 she confided to her father she would much rather 
 spend the time way out in Oregon wandering 
 about the Yachats rocks, for she firmly believed 
 that Hugh and his splendid family were still 
 there. 
 
 One day as she was strolling along the bath 
 ing beach, she met a gay party of young people 
 who had just left the surf and were on their way 
 to the dressing rooms that bordered the beach. 
 One of the young ladies of the party, recognized 
 Lottie, and introduced her to her companions. 
 When she presented Lottie to a young man by the 
 name of Roy Gilbert, that young man exclaimed : 
 
 "Why, Miss Fuquay, we have met before. 
 Don't you remember the rude boy that tried to 
 kiss you when you were a little girl at that party 
 at Masons?" 
 
 Lottie flushed and extended her hand and 
 said : 
 
 "I hope you have improved in your manners 
 since then." 
 
 "I also hope I have," replied he, and it was 
 certain he had improved in his looks for he wore 
 a Lieutenant's uniform and nature had been lav 
 ish with him for in looks he was a woman's ideal
 
 THE STORM'S GIFT 153 
 
 of manly beauty. Lottie turned back with the 
 gay party and before she left them she had prom 
 ised to join them the following day and go bathing 
 with them. 
 
 The next day found our young folks garbed 
 in gayest bathing suits frolicking in the water 
 and about the beach. Lottie the most daring of 
 all had adventured far into the surf. A sudden 
 southern squall had formed a great ugly roller 
 that combed over with vicious spill. The brave 
 girl was fighting bravely against the cruel waves. 
 Lieutenant Gilbert seeing her plight rushed to her 
 rescue. 
 
 It was a, brave struggle against the angry 
 elements. Lottie had sunk from view the third 
 time, when he reached the spot where she had 
 been. 
 
 The brave young man, was diving under huge 
 breakers, and at last almost choked with the 
 salty waters. His foot came in contact with her 
 body, slowly but surely washing to sea with the 
 strong under tow. Again he plunged under the 
 surf after her. This time he succeeded in grasp 
 ing her by the hair, and brought the body to the 
 raging surface. It was a superhuman struggle 
 the young man put forth in his effort to reach the 
 shore. As attendants reached him from the bath 
 house, he, with the drowning girl sank to the 
 sand below. 
 
 To say it was considered a miracle when with 
 out the scientific appliances of modern days that
 
 154 THE STORM'S GIFT 
 
 both lives were saved, is putting it mildly. A wire 
 had reached Baron Fuquay at Washington, and 
 he with a trained nurse were soon on their way 
 to Florida. 
 
 Roy Gilbert in his superhuman struggle had 
 ruptured a large blood vessel and for days his life 
 was dispared of. Lottie had made a rapid recov 
 ery, and could be found constantly at the bedside 
 of the man who had saved her life.
 
 THE STORM'S GIFT 155 
 
 Chapter XIII 
 The Earthquake. 
 
 "It seems foolish, Lizzie, to be picking up this 
 dross they call gold, for which men sell their lives, 
 and some women their honor. But it is so easily 
 gotten, wife, I can't withstand the temptation. 
 Evans and Williams must have as much or more 
 than we have, and one of our Indian boys has at 
 least sixty pounds in solid weight of virgin nug 
 gets. If it wasn't for the constant delights of this 
 place, I believe I would be willing to go back to 
 the states and spend a bucket full or two, just to 
 see the silly money grabbers scramble for it." 
 
 "Now Martin," replied his wife, "Don't start 
 talking of moving again. What would one wish 
 for more than we have here." 
 
 "Oh, I ain't thinking of moving again, Lizzie. 
 I was just wishing I could see the eyes of the 
 money grabbing world bulge as I told them the 
 story of Loveland's treasures." 
 
 "How long will it take Hugh before he has 
 his ship completed, Martin?" inquired his wife, 
 "I dread the day the boy leaves us, for he is 
 such a great, strong, noble hearted boy, and you 
 know, Martin, it is almost possible for a mother 
 to be jealous of the woman her son lavishes his 
 love upon."
 
 156 THE STORM'S GIFT 
 
 "Well woman, why don't you step about a 
 bit? Don't you know the hull is completed and 
 the masts stepped, and in less than a week she will 
 leave the ways for the water?" 
 
 "It's his happiness more than my own that I 
 seek, but it will be a terrible blow to me to lose 
 one of my children. You know Martin, dear, we 
 are all together yet, as God placed us. He who 
 gave us six splendid children, has in his great 
 wisdom and kindness allowed us to keep them all, 
 and Martin, Man, you look ten years younger than 
 you did the day we left the states." 
 
 "That's it Lizzie. That's a woman for you, 
 always fishing for bouquets. But still I can truth 
 fully say, dear wife, you are handsomer today, 
 than either girl you've got, although Phillip Mo- 
 ran raves about the beauty of our girl Maude." 
 
 "Well, Martin, you know Maude takes after 
 you, and what do you suppose I married you for? 
 Do you think it was for the eight dollars, your 
 entire fortune, or do you think it was because 
 you gave a sound drubbing to that big brute Ash 
 Hall who was bullying me on our way home from 
 singing school? No, Man, mine, it was because 
 you were the kindest, handsomest young man in 
 Delphos, Ohio." 
 
 "Whew! Lady mine. Come to me. I have 
 a few hugs left in stock that comes high. But if 
 you are willing to pay that sort of price, I will 
 deliver the entire stock to your order." 
 
 That evening there was a big literary pro-
 
 THE STORM'S GIFT 157 
 
 gram at the town hall. Everybody was present. 
 It was a splendid affair for those primitive times. 
 Mrs. Clarke's organ had been taken to the hall, 
 and several musical numbers had been rendered 
 by the island quartet, that would have been well 
 received even at this time. Willie Clarke, the mis- 
 chievious rogue of the Clarke family, was there 
 with face and hands blackened with soot from the 
 lamps. He had on his head a curly grey wig; 
 beneath his tattered coat stuffed up between his 
 shoulders was a ball of carpet rags, that gave him 
 the appearance of one suffering from the most 
 severe case of curvature of the spine, it has ever 
 been my misfortune to behold. His recitation was 
 left to the last, and as I have never seen the 
 silly thing in print, nor heard it recited since 
 I am going to take up your time by repeating it. 
 
 Mrs. Clarke, Jr., nee Ida Moran, was the 
 chairman of the society. She arose from the 
 chair with a charming bow, and announced that 
 Master William Clarke, a noted negro imperson 
 ator, was with them on this occasion, and she now 
 begged him to favor them with his latest negro 
 dialect specialty entitled "Churched." Willie arose 
 to his feet from a secluded corner in the back of 
 the room, and limped down the aisle on a cane. 
 The hump on his back was level with the top of 
 his head and a more ridiculous figure would be 
 hard to conceive. 
 
 He took his place on the platform and began 
 as follows:
 
 158 THE STORM'S GIFT 
 
 "My brudders an' my sisters, I rises fo' to 'splain 
 
 Dis matter dat yous talkin' bout 
 
 I hopes to make it plain. 
 
 Ise berry sorry dat the ting hab come befo de 
 
 church, 
 Fo wen I splains it yo will see, dat it am nutin 
 
 murch. 
 My friend yo, humbel speaker, while trabblin har 
 
 belo 
 Hab nebber cared to hord up gold or silver fo to 
 
 sho. 
 
 We's only stoppin har a spell, we all hab got to die 
 An so I allars tries to lay my treasures up on hi. 
 Dars jis one ting dat pesters me, an dat am dis 
 
 yo see 
 De robins fed ol Lijah, but de critters won't feed 
 
 me. 
 Day go above dere buzness, an jes go swoopin 
 
 roun 
 And nebber twin to look at me, a waitin on de 
 
 grown. 
 
 I waited moughty sartin like, my faith was pow 
 erful strong, 
 I reconed dat dem pesky birds would shorely com 
 
 along. 
 But oh, my friendly hearers, my faif done catch- 
 
 ed a fall. 
 Dem agravatin fowls passed by, and nebber 
 
 stopped a tall. 
 De meal an flour was amost gone; de pork barl 
 
 gettin low,
 
 THE STORM'S GIFT 159 
 
 An so one day I eluded dat I better go, 
 
 To brudder Johnsons tatter patch, an borror jes 
 
 a few 
 Twas evenin fore I got to start. I had so much 
 
 to do. 
 It happend dat de night was dark, but dat I 
 
 didn't mine. 
 I knowed de way to dat ar patch, twas easy nough 
 
 to fine 
 An den I didn't care to meet dat Johnson, fer I 
 
 knowed 
 Dat he would sass me bout de tatters what I 
 
 owed. 
 I got de basket full at las, and took em on my 
 
 back 
 
 An jes was gwine to tote em home wen some 
 thing went kerwhack! 
 I thought it was a cannon, but it jest turned out 
 
 to be 
 Dat Johnsons ole hoss pistol a pointin straight 
 
 at me. 
 
 I tried to argufy wid him, I pologised a heap 
 but he said dat stealin taters, was as mean as 
 
 stealin sheep. 
 Ob course I couldn't take dat ar, it had an ugly 
 
 soun. 
 De only ting fo me to do, was jes to knock him 
 
 down. 
 Now my brudders an my sisters, de story all am 
 
 tole,
 
 160 THE STORM'S GIFT 
 
 Of course I pounded Johnson, till he yelled for 
 
 me to hole. 
 An now I hopes you grees wif me, dat dis ere case 
 
 an sech 
 Am berry triflin matters, for to fetch befo de 
 
 church." 
 
 A loud and merry applause greeted the young 
 speaker, and as this concluded the program, the 
 party separated to their homes, scattered about 
 the now lovely village of Eden. 
 
 As no one was able to find a book in the pub 
 lic library or in the private collections of the citi 
 zens, it was the belief of some that Willie Clarke 
 was the author of his ridiculous negro recitation. 
 
 It was late that night when the Clarke family 
 went to bed, and about three o'clock in the morn 
 ing Martin was awakened by his wife's voice, 
 as she sat up in bed shaking him by the shoulder. 
 
 "Why Martin Clarke, how can you sleep 
 through this awful noise, and terrible shaking 
 that's going on. I believe every dish and pot in 
 the house is on the floor." 
 
 "Godfrey, Woman" exclaimed Martin "It's 
 an earthquake," and as he sprang from his bed 
 another fit of violent ague seized the island. An 
 undescribable hissing from the river on the bord 
 er of the town fell on their ears. It was evident 
 that the small river was running with super heat 
 ed lava. 
 
 "Hurry, Martin and call up the town. There 
 may be others that sleep as sound as you, al 
 though I doubt it."
 
 THE STORM'S GIFT 161 
 
 As Martin opened the door, cries of terror 
 greeted his ears from almost the entire popula 
 tion of the island. At the rim of the tallest 
 mountain they had long since discovered the cra 
 ter of an extinct volcano, but had given it little 
 thought, as they believed its activity to be a 
 thing of the past, and it was no doubt in their 
 minds now, that this self -same crater had at some 
 remote time given birth to the island now in 
 habited. 
 
 Great streams of lava rushing by filled the 
 channel of the creek that passed through the 
 town of Eden. A new channel was being formed 
 along the western line of the town. At short in 
 tervals thunderous reports that rumbled in fury 
 burst on the ears of our now terrified friends. 
 It was evident that some one must take charge 
 of the situation. Clarke mounted a bench that 
 stood at his front gate and begged the frightened 
 colonists to give him their attention. Their con 
 fidence in Clarke always gave him great pres 
 tige. Soon the nervous people were standing be 
 fore him in composed attention. 
 
 "Dear friends, and followers, all of you have 
 stood by me in the severest perils known to the 
 sea. To become panic stricken by a volcanic erup 
 tion especially one of the present magnitude is 
 not strange. Still there is nothing to fear for the 
 present. No doubt many of our fields have been 
 devastated but our great granaries and store 
 houses are still intact. Of course the rough shak-
 
 162 THE STORM'S GIFT 
 
 ing of the island has broken many dishes and 
 stopped your clocks "but remember what this 
 glorious island has given you in return for this 
 frenzied frolic. 
 
 I sincerely believe the worst is over, and you 
 who have kissed your wives and children good 
 bye in your terror, had ought to have been scared 
 into kissing them before, for the man among you 
 who has lost money on a legitimate kiss will kind 
 ly hold up his hand." 
 
 It is needless to say not a hand went up. 
 And the light manner in which Clarke treated the 
 calamity lent courage to his faithful subjects. 
 
 The next day the tremblors had subsided, 
 but the flow of lava increased if possible. Great 
 valleys were becoming inundated with the molten 
 slag. 
 
 There is no human remedy that can control 
 active volcanos. The flow of lava continued, but 
 after a few days the residents of Loveland be 
 came more accustomed to it, and went about their 
 duties much as before. 
 
 The poor demented creature was improving 
 rapidly, both in mind and body. And one day she 
 confided to Nell Evans that she could recall a 
 great storm on the Atlantic Ocean, that she had 
 been separated from her husband at that time, 
 and later from her baby. No doubt both were 
 drowned. A great wave of weeping attacked her 
 and she cried softly, pitifully, for hours. When 
 she again became calm her mind was much
 
 THE STORM'S GIFT 163 
 
 brighter, and she remembered her rescue by the 
 whaler, and the second wreck at Unimak Pass. 
 "Dear Mrs. Evans," said she, "it were better that 
 I had died, for when the Greek Priest that came 
 to give me burial found signs of life in me, and 
 resuscitated me, it would have been easier for me 
 had he let me die, for both husband and baby are 
 dead." 
 
 Nell Evans thought it best to tell her noth 
 ing for the present or at least until she had ad 
 vice from Mrs. Clarke. So during the day she 
 repeated the poor woman's strange story to the 
 chief Magistrate of the colony. 
 
 Hugh and the workers were putting the fin 
 ishing touches on the schooner, and a stauncher, 
 more graceful craft had never flown a flag up to 
 that time. A great chest had been constructed 
 to contain the gold that had been found by the 
 islanders, as there was absolutely no use for it 
 on the island. 
 
 The rainy season was now upon them again, 
 and the torrents of water mixed with the molten 
 lava, soon enveloped the island in a thick cloud 
 of steam. In fact at times the steam was so 
 dense it became very oppressive. 
 
 A peculiar type of illness had attacked sev 
 eral of the colony, and already one of the Indian 
 girls had fallen asleep with the strange disease, 
 and had remained in a sleeping stupor until her 
 death.
 
 164 THE STORM'S GIFT 
 
 Chapter XIII 
 Lottie's Trip West 
 
 Roy Gilbert's recovery was slow. Lottie had 
 not been ungrateful for the great service he had 
 rendered her in saving her life. Baron Fuquay 
 had removed the young Lieutenant to Washington 
 and had established him in the Fuquay home. As 
 his health improved he seized every opportunity 
 to make love to Lottie, and to his discredit seem 
 ed to try to take advantage of the fact that he 
 had saved her life. 
 
 Lottie had not given up her determination 
 to visit the west, and as soon as young Gilbert was 
 able to leave for his own home, she began pressing 
 her father for a visit to Oregon. 
 
 A professor from an eastern college had ac 
 cepted an offer to come to Corvallis to teach, 
 and he with his family were to leave Washington 
 the first week in June. 
 
 It was with the greatest reluctance the Baron 
 gave permission to his daughter to accompany 
 them. It was with a light heart that Lottie set 
 about to make preparations for her three thous 
 and mile journey. 
 
 Young Gilbert begged her not to go, and 
 made an impassioned and flattering appeal for 
 her hand in marriage, but Lottie only said to him 
 kindly :
 
 THE STORM'S GIFT 165 
 
 "Roy, I do not love you. I know I owe you 
 much, but surely you would not want a loveless 
 bride." 
 
 Lottie's trunks only contained the simplest 
 and most useful articles of wearing apparel. She 
 had selected and purchased a handsome present 
 for every one. A massive gold watch for Hugh, 
 and so on down to lifelike wax dolls for the babies, 
 for argued she, there must be babies by this time 
 born to her friends. 
 
 The trip by rail in those days consumed 
 eight days, but the strong light spirited girl bore 
 the journey well, and was of great assistance to 
 the processor's wife who had two small children. 
 
 Portland in the sixteen years intervening 
 since the Clarkes had passed that way had made 
 rapid progress. The O. R. & N. Railroad was 
 carrvin<r great trains of tourists, and a day was 
 spent bv the professor and his family enjoying 
 the oVMs of what is now the rose city of 
 America. 
 
 Lottie was impatient to conclude the journey, 
 and at eierht-thirty the following evening, they 
 reached Corvallis a town that since has become 
 fan>o' i 5 for its excellent school facilities. As the 
 celebrated 0. A. C. draws students from all parts 
 of Oeorm, as well as from many other states. 
 
 Lottie only remained at Corvallis long enough 
 to secure a conveyance that would take her to 
 Yachats. She chose the route taken by the 
 Clarke party seventeen years ago, and it seemed
 
 166 THE STORM'S GIFT 
 
 there could have been but little improvement in 
 the roads in all those years, as the greater por 
 tion of the way was abominable, but was largely 
 excused by our heroine, owing to the wonderful 
 scenery. 
 
 The driver made the hazardous trip to Wald- 
 port at the mouth of the Alsea in three days, and 
 nine o'clock next morning found Lottie stepping 
 from the wagon to the beach in front of what was 
 at one time the Clarke home. 
 
 Judge the poor girl's disappointment on 
 reaching the house to find it occupied "by strang 
 ers. The occupants of the house had not even 
 known the Clarke people, but told the girl the 
 Clarke and Williams families had left years ago, 
 after salvaging the ship that had cast her ashore, 
 lashed to the breast of an unconscious sailor. 
 They further stated that it was the opinion of all 
 that the Grace and Dell had again been wrecked 
 as no tidings had ever been received of the miss 
 ing ship or our voyagers. 
 
 It was with a sad and broken spirit our brave 
 girl informed her driver that she would return to 
 Corvallis with him. She displayed little interest 
 in the splendid scenery, for the watch fires of her 
 memory in their heightened glow overshadowed 
 the delights nature had provided for the disap 
 pointed girl. As her loving heart was chastened 
 with despair. A saddened yearning had painted 
 its telltale script across her lovely face, loves 
 clinging tendrils were crowding about her heart
 
 THE STORM'S GIFT 167 
 
 like weeds in an unkempt garden. It was still 
 in the budding springtime, and nature's charms 
 were ravishing. Her buoyant spirit was most 
 broken, and the jewels of her pure love were 
 afloat on a sea of despair. It was so cruel to give 
 up the future she had longed for in the garden of 
 dreamy thought. They reached the town of Cor- 
 vallis in the purple mists of the evening. The 
 clinging carols of a song by a happy maiden in a 
 cottage near her hotel only served to sadden her 
 bleeding heart. 
 
 That night she lay dreaming, an angel 
 brushed her lips with a kiss, and a voice though 
 changed and fuller, seemed to say, "I am coming, 
 I am Hugh." When she awoke it was not yet 
 morning and the moonlight was glaring a broad 
 ened path along the foot hills to the westward of 
 the town. 
 
 Bright and early Monday morning our sad 
 dened Lottie was at the depot, and had secured 
 her ticket for Washington. 
 
 "Lord," said the railroad agent to an official 
 of the company that was checking up accounts, 
 "Ain't that a beauty. I bet she's French. Never 
 saw such a neck on any woman in my life to com 
 pare with hers, I never have been in France, but 
 have heard so much about the surpassing beauty 
 of French girls, it takes me sort of sure she's 
 French." 
 
 "I rather think she is pure American," re 
 plied his companion, "Didn't you notice her accent
 
 168 THE STORM'S GIFT 
 
 was perfect?" And as the dinky train pulled out 
 from the station, it carried the saddest, most 
 beautiful girl with it, that has ever graced the 
 portals of what is now a splendid little city. 
 
 "When do you expect your daughter will re 
 turn?" inquired Roy Gilbert of Baron Fuquay, a 
 few days after her departure. 
 
 "It's difficult to say," answered the Baron, 
 "She is a great lover of out door sports, and she 
 cherishes a great affection for her foster parents ; 
 and it seems an especial tender feeling for the 
 boy that discovered her bound to one of the sailors 
 that came ashore from the wreck." 
 
 Judge the surprise of Baron Fuquay and 
 Lieutenant Gilbert, three weeks later when a 
 hired cab stopped before the door of the Fuquay 
 mansion and Lottie alighted. Of course father 
 and friends were delighted at her unexpected 
 arrival, but to Lieutenant Gilbert, it was the hap 
 piest day of his life.
 
 THE STORM'S GIFT 169 
 
 Chapter XIV 
 "When Heaven turns to Hell." 
 
 Mrs Fuquay had fully regained her memory ; 
 every detail of her life stood out before her. 
 It seemed even more vivid than it would, had she 
 been able to have realized her awful experience 
 earlier. 
 
 She remembered when she had regained con 
 sciousness under the kind skilled hands of the 
 Greek Priest at Dutch Harbor. She also fully 
 remembered her contract with a couple of Es- 
 quimo sailors, that had undertaken to land her at 
 Vancouver B. C., a distance of fifteen hundred 
 miles, that was to be made in a walrus skin boat. 
 She also remembered the furious storm that blew 
 them off their course and carried the frail craft 
 many hundreds of miles south and west of their 
 proposed destination; nor could she forget the 
 brave unselfish manner in which they insisted 
 that she eat and drink while they without a mur 
 mur of complaint starved to death, and left her 
 sole occupant of the frail boat on the heated sur 
 face of the great southern sea. She now recalled 
 the story told her by the priest of the visit of the 
 strange whaler, and the carrying away of her 
 precious baby by a member of its crew. At this 
 point her mind had become a blank, and the wash-
 
 170 THE STORM'S GIFT 
 
 ing ashore of the large skin canoe on the beach 
 at Loveland was all a blank to her, as was every 
 other detail up to this time. 
 
 Mrs. Evans had told her of the rescue of her 
 baby by Hugh Clarke, and for a time it seemed 
 the good news would again rob the poor woman 
 of her returned reason. 
 
 Hugh had been called in and introduced to 
 Mrs. Fuquay, and as the grateful woman sobbed 
 out her thanks in language that sounded like 
 holy prayer, our Hero, Hugh found a new incent 
 ive to hasten his quest for the much loved, long 
 lost, Lottie. 
 
 "By Gad, woman," excitedly exclaimed Capt. 
 Williams to his wife as he entered the house all 
 excitement and the perspiration streaming down 
 his face, "By Gad ! we have got to get out of this 
 blow hole of Hell. The lava has covered the upper 
 pasture and has roasted most of the horses and 
 cattle alive. Gol durn my storm Sty Sils if it 
 don't beat the great horned spooned devil." 
 
 "Gus Williams" replied his wife, "have you 
 no shame to use such language before your wife 
 and children?" 
 
 "Why you dear cool headed darling," resum 
 ed her husband, "I thought the news I have just 
 brought you, would drive you frantic with fear." 
 
 "Well Gus, it seems we had about as well die 
 in a lake of molten lava as to linger along and 
 sleep ourselves to death; all three of the Indian 
 girls are dead. The last one died an hour ago.
 
 THE STORM'S GIFT 171 
 
 Just seemed to fall asleep, and stay asleep until 
 they perish from starvation or thirst or some 
 thing. Nell Evans is just petered out. She has 
 been up with them day and night for nearly three 
 weeks, and now the last of the Siwash tribe on 
 Loveland are dead." 
 
 At this Willie Williams came hastily into the 
 house inquiring for Nell Evans saying that young 
 Moran had been seized with the mysterious fatal 
 sleeping disease. 
 
 At times the stream from the molten lava 
 rushing into the sea and streams made it difficult 
 to breathe. It hung in the air like a dense fog. 
 It carried with it a strong sulphur odor that re 
 minded one of the legions of Hades. The dense 
 choking fumes at times became most unbearable. 
 One of the Likens babies was dying from the 
 effects of the poisoned atmosphere. It was evi 
 dent that something must be done. There were 
 several sick yet. It was decided that if they 
 wished to preserve their lives they must abandon 
 the island. 
 
 Hugh had stored his vessel with a full cargo 
 of preserved meats, vegetables and fruits. The 
 granaries of Loveland were still overflowing with 
 rarest grains and provisions. The strong box of 
 the ship contained over a half million dollars in 
 treasure, mostly gold and precious stones. It 
 would be an easy task to sail to the coast of 
 America for the charts and instruments were all 
 aboard the staunch schooner Lottie.
 
 172 THE STORM'S GIFT 
 
 There were three more deaths on the island 
 within the week. This left a total habitation of 
 but fifteen souls. 
 
 The lava was constantly encroaching on the 
 possessions of the colonists and at last it was de 
 cided that all should embark on the trim ship 
 Lottie, and return to the country they had so 
 joyously left, for had not this one time earthly 
 paradise turned out to be a steam heated Hell ?
 
 THE STORM'S GIFT 173 
 
 Chapter XV 
 At Sea Again 
 
 "My Dear Hugh, you tell me that less than 
 ten years ago to your knowledge, my baby Lottie 
 was alive. Oh ! if I can only find her it will repay 
 me a thousand times for all I have suffered. God 
 is being good to me dear Hugh, I mean Captain 
 Clarke," for let me say here Hugh Clarke and Gus 
 Williams had changed jobs, as Hugh was now 
 Master of the vessel he had planned and built, 
 and Capt. Williams was her first mate. Hugh had 
 insisted that Captain Williams take command of 
 the ship, but Gus declared that Hugh would sail 
 Master, or he would remain on the Island. 
 
 There were at least two buoyant hearts 
 aboard the ship as the anchor was weighed and 
 the sails set, and the Lottie placed her dainty 
 forefoot in the sluggish brine outside the harbor 
 bar, and in the southern Pacific Ocean. 
 
 "My its a relief to get a breath of air that 
 isn't super heated with steam and sterilized with 
 sulphur," remarked Nell Evans to her husband 
 the first night at sea, and out of sight of land. 
 
 "Nellie Gal, I believe I'm glad to be on my 
 way back to the good old U. S. A. Things were 
 pretty fine for a while on the island and I believe 
 that in a short time the action of the volcano will 
 cease and things return to normal."
 
 174 THE STORM'S GIFT 
 
 "Well, husband dear, Oregon is good enough 
 for me. There are plenty of salt water delicacies 
 around Yachats and Alsea to cover my require 
 ments." 
 
 When the elements want to be nice and are 
 nice, there is no place for health and comfort 
 like a long voyage at sea. All aboard had re 
 gained perfect health. During a calm for a few 
 days, a school of whales were lounging about the 
 ship and amused the travelers with their playful 
 antics and ponderous spouting. 
 
 "Do you know," remarked Capt. Hugh, "That 
 one of these huge creatures furnished the milk 
 that kept your baby Lottie from starving?" 
 
 "You don't mean to say," replied Mrs. Fu- 
 quay "that father Neptune maintains a whale 
 dairy for human babies at sea?" 
 
 "Just so," replied the Young Captain" the 
 sailor De Somer of the whale ship Grace and Dell 
 had a supply of whale's milk constantly on hand 
 during the entire cruise from the Alutian Islands 
 until they wrecked on Yachats Beach. And dear 
 Mrs. Fuquay there is something more I haven't 
 told you yet. I love your sweet daughter Lottie, 
 although I have not seen her since I was a child, 
 still she seems a part of me. How I long to find 
 her again and make amends for my selfish treat 
 ment of her. She had the lovliest flaxen curls 
 that ever adorned a sweet child's head, but owing 
 to the fact my mother kept me in long curls and 
 short dresses when I was small, and I was so often
 
 THE STORM'S GIFT 175 
 
 taken for a little girl, I learned to think that I 
 despised long hair, curls, and especially girls. Just 
 to think, Mrs. Fuquay the day before she left 
 for the east to join her father, I cut them off." 
 
 "To join her father," the woman screamed. 
 "You do not tell me that my husband Jules Fu 
 quay is alive?" 
 
 "He was, dear lady," replied Captain Hugh, 
 "when we sailed for Loveland." 
 
 "God be praised," exclaimed the happy wom 
 an, "Can it be possible that I will some day be re 
 united with my darling husband and sweet Char 
 lotte?" 
 
 "Here is proof of what I did," continued Capt. 
 Hugh as he took from his breast pocket a long 
 yellow curl and held it before the mother's eyes. 
 
 The happy woman first pressed it to her 
 bosom and then kissed the clinging curl with the 
 sweet frenzy of a loving mother's heart. 
 
 For days the vessel lay becalmed over a great 
 codfish bank and the fo'c's'le peak had been in 
 vaded and jigger hooks brought forth, and in 
 about fifty fathoms of water they caught a large 
 supply of this delicious fish. When fresh they can 
 be baked in such manner as to make them diffi 
 cult to distinguish from baked turkey breast . 
 
 No one was more anxious than Mrs. Fuquay 
 on board the Lottie to reach the shores of 
 America. 
 
 Hugh had repeated his great love for Lottie 
 and the kind mother had said to him:
 
 176 THE STORM'S GIFT 
 
 "My dear Captain, Hugh, any woman would 
 be proud to call you son." 
 
 A fair sailing breeze had sprung up from the 
 southwest and the Lottie under full spread of 
 canvas was reeling off from eight to ten knots 
 per hour, both day and night. 
 
 On September 17, 1882 the good sailing 
 schooner dropped her anchor in the harbor of the 
 Columbia River abreast the town of Astoria. 
 
 At this place they met a man from Yachats 
 by the name of Starr. He had arrived at Astoria 
 with his son-in-law, Victor Hurt, with teams. 
 Young Hurt was a fat jolly fellow and when he 
 learned that the crew and passengers of the Lot 
 tie were former residents of Yachats, his delight 
 knew no bounds. He offered to take a load of the 
 women and children down the coast to Tillamook, 
 and from there it was proposed to secure a small 
 boat that could be landed in the Alsea. 
 
 Hugh on reaching Astoria with his ship had 
 received a flattering offer for the boat, and a great 
 portion of the cargo brought fabulous prices so 
 in a few days negotiations were closed and the 
 boat transferred to a Lumber Company composed 
 of Astoria and San Francisco capitalists at a fig 
 ure around thirty-five thousand dollars. It was 
 a slow tedious trip from Astoria to the Yachats 
 and nearly two weeks were consumed before our 
 travelers reached their old home. 
 
 Conditions were greatly changed about the 
 mouth of the creek. The Indian population had
 
 THE STORM'S GIFT 177 
 
 t 
 
 been removed to Siletz. Several ranches had been 
 blocked out along the creek. The winter rains 
 were beginning to fall. Houses had to be repaired 
 and put in shape for the home comers. 
 
 Paul Likens had decided to take his family 
 east to his old home. Mrs. Fuquay was impatient 
 for the trip east, but Mrs. Clarke prevailed on her 
 to remain with them and rest up for a couple of 
 weeks, for then Hugh had promised to accompany 
 her to Washington City, not knowing whether Mr. 
 Fuquay was in France or in the United States, 
 nor did Mrs. Fuquay know that her husband was 
 now a Baron, as the death of his father had set 
 tled the title on Jules.
 
 178 THE STORM'S GIFT 
 
 Chapter XVI 
 Roy Gilbert's Wooing 
 
 Washington was at its gayest. The beauty 
 of the United States together with hundreds of 
 the fairest foreign beauties made Washington 
 D. C. the Mecca of feminine loveliness. 
 
 Lottie Fuquay was admitted to be the rarest 
 type of perfect beauty in the city. Her recent 
 sorrow, in what she believed to be the permanent 
 loss of her idol, Hugh, had only served to heighten 
 the splendor of her charming face. 
 
 The greatest ball of the season was to take 
 place Wednesday evening. Roy Gilbert had suc 
 ceeded in gaining her consent to attend the ball 
 with him. He had begged her several times to 
 become his wife, but her answer had always been 
 the same, "I do not love you." 
 
 Since her return from the west, and failure 
 to get tiding of the Clarkes or their ship she had 
 repeatedly declared that all must be lost, and this 
 looked reasonable. Her father had told her that 
 a derelict ship had been reported by Lloyds at 
 about the time of the sailing of the Grace and 
 Dell for Loveland. 
 
 The ship was waterlogged, and abandoned, 
 and as no other vessel had been reported lost in 
 that locality it was generally conceded that the
 
 THE STORM'S GIFT 179 
 
 wreck was all that remained of the Grace and 
 Dell. So the heartbroken girl had given up all hope 
 of ever seeing her hero, Hugh, again. 
 
 Lottie and her escort, Roy Gilbert, led the 
 grand march at the society ball on Wednesday 
 evening. A murmur of admiration ran through 
 the assembled throng as the stately girl and the 
 splendid formed young officer took the lead. 
 It was certain no other girl had ever been in great 
 er demand than this heart sick maiden. 
 
 Gilbert hung constantly at her side and his 
 devotion seemed genuine, although rumors were 
 afloat that he was carrying on pretty strong in a 
 different strata of society. Later a beautiful 
 girl, a daughter of a rural senator, so it had been 
 reported, had left Washington broken hearted 
 and betrayed by this society favorite. 
 
 Of course these rumors had not reached Lot 
 tie's ears ; still it had come to the knowledge of her 
 father, who regarded such things as deplorable 
 conditions that unhappily existed in all countries. 
 
 Young Gilbert's popularity was increasing if 
 anything, and a rise in rank to a Captaincy in the 
 regular army at his age was a splendid recommen 
 dation for the handsome, if fickle, young officer. 
 His constant importunities for the hand of Lottie 
 in marriage had at last met with a partial con 
 sent on her part, but she stipulated that the wed 
 ding should not take place for a year, as her fath 
 er and herself were to leave early the next month 
 on an extended trip to foreign countries; their
 
 180 THE STORM'S GIFT 
 
 destination was unknown even to the Baron, as 
 serious conditions existed between his country 
 and several foreign governments, so it happened 
 that on the day the Baron and his daughter left 
 Washington on their foreign mission, Captain 
 Clarke and Mrs Fuquay, who of course was now 
 Baroness Fuquay, left Yachats for the city of 
 Washington, D. C. 
 
 "You can say all you please about south sea 
 islands, Gus," said Martin Clarke one afternoon, 
 as he rested his burden, a fat buck deer on a 
 friendly wind fallen log, "things one eats haven't 
 the splendid flavor down in those sun scorched 
 climates that they have here in western Oregon." 
 
 "I should say not," replied Williams, who had 
 let a still larger buck drop from his shoulder 
 to the ground, "you know," continued Williams, 
 "the shell fish in those southern seas are poison 
 half the year, while here the clams and crabs are 
 as delicious in July as they are in December." 
 
 "When will your son-in-law, Likens, start east, 
 Clarke? My wife says we have more money in 
 our buckskin poke than we will ever need around 
 here. It seems she and the children had been 
 making a business of picking up nuggets along 
 the banks of Hill Creek just west of Eden, and 
 swamp my main hatch if the woman aint nearly 
 a thousand ounces of rich yellow gold that will 
 run nineteen dollars to the ounce. She says she 
 wants to give Likens and his family at least half 
 of it, as we can never use the other half here."
 
 THE STORM'S GIFT 181 
 
 "Ha Ha," roared Martin "guess the whole 
 bunch was playing the same game, only yester 
 day morning, Lizzie toted a sack off to Likens 
 house and poured out a small bucket of nuggets 
 before Alice, saying "Daughter dear, I have 
 brought you this gold that you may take it with 
 you, it is gold I found on the banks of Hill Creek, 
 take it with a mother's love as we shall never need 
 it." Then our daughter Alice sort of turned up her 
 nose, and turning to a chest of drawers in the 
 corner pulled out the top drawer, and displayed 
 two sacks if anything larger than her mother had 
 brought over. 
 
 "Alice," spoke up my wife, "how can people 
 be so deceitful? You never let me know you had 
 all this." 
 
 "Well as to that, mother dear," replied the 
 daughter, "I don't recall that you ever mentioned 
 your treasure before, and only this morning Paul 
 said to me, we must go over to your Father's 
 this afternoon and divide our gold with him be 
 fore we leave." 
 
 The mother and daughter were now in each 
 other's arms and Alice was pleading with her 
 good kind mother to try and induce Martin and 
 even Williams and his family to return with them 
 to the east where they could get more enjoyment 
 out of their wealth. 
 
 When Lizzie broached the subject to Martin, 
 he stuck his nose in the air and exclaimed, 
 "Huh? get more enjoyment? What does that
 
 182 THE STORM'S GIFT 
 
 love stricken female call enjoyment. Don't she 
 know that Ohio and Iowa is fished out, where 
 would you have to live in either of those states 
 to be able to kill an elk or deer along your pasture 
 fence most any day? Besides there never was 
 much but catfish and suckers any way, along any 
 of the streams I've lived on." 
 
 The night before Paul Likens and family 
 were to start for the east Willie Clarke had laid 
 down on his bed fully dressed. It was his desire 
 to give his sister and family the poke of gold he 
 had gathered and hoarded during his stay at 
 Eden. .Several times he had brought home nuggets 
 and given them to his mother, so his parents were 
 not aware that he possessed a sack in secret. 
 While at Astoria he had laid in a supply of am 
 munition and fishing tackle and the liberal 
 amount he had purchased had caused him to listen 
 to many jests and jokes from the older members 
 of the party. 
 
 So on this night, when all were asleep he left 
 the house quietly and followed a dim trail for a 
 short distance that ended at an old cedar stump ; 
 falling on his knees he reached under the stump, 
 and then drew forth a fairly fat poke that con 
 tained his treasure. He took the sack under his 
 arm and made his way to the Likens home, a 
 good half mile distant. On reaching the log 
 house, that was his sister's home, all was dark 
 and he silently raised the latch and entered the 
 house. A slant of moonlight fell directly on an
 
 THE STORM'S GIFT 183 
 
 open satchel that stood on a table beside the win 
 dow. He raised a portion of the contents of the 
 packed case and placed the poke of gold at the 
 bottom, covering it up with the clothing and toilet 
 articles that filled the grip. He then glided si 
 lently to the door, closed it after him and was 
 soon on his way home. 
 
 "It will do them more good than it will me," 
 he mused to himself/Tve got ammunition enough 
 to last me for two years, and that Paul was too 
 slow to pick up any gold for himself. If I'd a 
 known we were coming back so soon I could have 
 gotten more; but that poke will hold Alice and 
 the kids until I can get aboard some south sea 
 bound ship and get some more." 
 
 When Alice Likens was searching through 
 her satchel while passing through Cheyenne, Wy 
 oming, she ran across the sack containing the 
 gold, left there by Willie. On one side of the sack 
 W. C. had been stitched in with blue thread. 
 
 "Bless his darling heart," said Alice as a tear 
 rolled down her cheek. "We will just send it back 
 to him, or better still, when we reach Paul's 
 home, I will deposit it in a bank to his credit; 
 and I believe I will just let him think that I have 
 kept it." 
 
 It was a great experience to the Likens fam 
 ily, passing through the great cities along the 
 way, and as they reached Chicago, Paul had ar 
 ranged a layover for a couple of days, and the 
 stylishly dressed young matron with the neatly
 
 184 THE STORM'S GIFT 
 
 attired husband that arrived at the depot when 
 they resumed their journey from Chicago would 
 be hard to recognize as Paul Likens, Esq. and 
 family from Loveland and later from Yachats, 
 Oregon. 
 
 Paul surrounded his family with every com 
 fort and attention, and were it not for the recent 
 parting with their parents and brother and sisters 
 away out on the shores of the Pacific Ocean, Alice 
 would have been the happiest woman on earth. 
 
 Three more days landed the travelers at 
 Paul's old home. His father had died during his 
 absence but his mother was still a splendid type 
 of southern womanhood. She greeted the family 
 as only a southern matron can receive, and Alice 
 knew at once, that she had only lost one mother 
 to gain another just as loving and kind. 
 
 With their fine clothes and abundance of 
 money, the new comers cut a large swath from the 
 first in the little city that was to be their future 
 home.
 
 THE STORM'S GIFT 185 
 
 Chapter XVII 
 Hugh's Disappointment. 
 
 Baroness Fuquay had never been in or across 
 the United States before, and the journey was a 
 constant source of happy surprises. 
 
 Hugh showed the distinguished lady every 
 courtesy ; and her fame had reached ahead of her. 
 Many newspaper reporters learning of her won 
 derful adventures had begged an Interview, and 
 the papers teemed with thrilling stories of the 
 perils and hardships undergone by the Baroness. 
 
 On reaching Washington, a great crowd had 
 assembled at the depot to welcome her, and it was 
 at that time she was informed of the departure 
 of Baron Fuquay and his charming daughter on 
 their mysterious mission. 
 
 The news almost prostrated the over expect 
 ant woman, who on the last lap of the trip had 
 become so impatient she was almost hysterical, 
 and Hugh's depression was not much less; as he 
 had fully expected to meet Lottie in Washington, 
 or at least be able to learn definitely where she 
 could be found. 
 
 Hugh looked up a bank and made a deposit of 
 one hundred and fifty thousand dollars in certified 
 checks, and after locating Baroness Fuquay, has 
 tened to the War Department to try and get tid-
 
 186 THE STORM'S GIFT 
 
 ings of his lost love. You had as well try to pry 
 off the hinges of the steel treasure vaults at 
 Washington as to undertake to pry open the 
 mouths of the attaches of the government; and 
 the poor lad left the offices no wiser than he came. 
 His next visit was to the shipping centers for the 
 purpose of securing passages to Europe. He had 
 no choice as to what the destination of the ship 
 might be for he stood as good chance of meeting 
 the Fuquays in one port as another. At last he 
 found a steamer would leave New York for Liver 
 pool in about six days. He secured passage for 
 himself; for when on returning to Baroness Fu- 
 quay's lodgings, he found that the Baroness had 
 been sought out by some of the Baron's friends 
 and taken to the Fuquay mansion that was in per 
 fect order, and peopled by the servants of the dis 
 tinguished diplomat. She was duly installed as mis 
 tress of the home. Still the shadows of the grim 
 past crouched heavily on her shoulders. She refus 
 ed all attempts to induce her to come out in soci 
 ety, for said she, "until I have seen my darling 
 husband and daughter it is almost impossible for 
 me to believe it is other than a joyous dream." 
 
 Hugh Clarke's fame had spread abroad at 
 Washington, and the dashing young sea Captain 
 was in great demand in the city's most exclusive 
 society. A reigning belle from one of the south 
 ern states and a daughter of a United States 
 Senator had shown such a pronounced preference 
 for him, that it was only by tact he had avoided
 
 THE STORM'S GIFT 187 
 
 a duel. For said Captain Hugh to the disgruntled 
 young swain, "it isn't that I am afraid to fight 
 you, but because I don't want to kill you, and rob 
 the young ladies of your worthless love, that I for 
 bear the pleasure of giving you your imaginary 
 satisfaction." 
 
 Fifty years ago France and Prussia were in 
 serious trouble. Baron Fuquay had been appoint 
 ed on the mission covering the diplomatic rela 
 tions between these two countries. Hence Prussia 
 was their first destination. 
 
 Lottie ever a true sailor was enjoying the 
 trip, and was much made over by officers and 
 passengers of the ship. Her greatest worry was 
 to see her father's mission completed; and re 
 turn to the United States, her adopted home. 
 
 The thought of ever being the wife of Roy 
 Gilbert was becoming more repugnant to her 
 daily, but she had practically given her word, 
 and the word of a Fuquay had never been violated. 
 
 While her father attended the conference of 
 state in the Prussian Capital, Lottie was admired 
 and feted in the most exclusive circles of the 
 country. 
 
 Hugh on landing in Liverpool could get no 
 tidings of his sweetheart and her father, so after 
 a couple of days vain search, he crossed the chan 
 nel and headed for France. On his arrival at 
 Paris his earnest inquiries met with the usual 
 disappointment, so after visiting several other 
 governments, he decided to return to the United
 
 188 THE STORM'S GIFT 
 
 States and await the Baron's return. 
 
 Mrs. Fuquay had fully regained her health 
 and much of her real French beauty had returned. 
 She was yet a young woman, as she had married 
 young, and a healthy woman at thirty-six has only 
 just acquired her full womanly lovliness. 
 
 A mulatto maid was singing a war ballad, 
 extremely popular fifty years ago. The girl had 
 a voice only given to negro women for tone, and I 
 can't refrain from setting the words down here 
 as few of my younger readers have ever heard it, 
 and but for this book never would. Still I wish 
 you could have heard that colored nightingale in 
 her sweet crooning voice. 
 
 "As they marched through the town 
 
 With the banners so gay 
 
 I ran to the window 
 
 To hear the band play. 
 
 I peeped through the blinds 
 Very cautiously then 
 Lest the neighbors would say 
 I was looking at the men. 
 
 Oh I heard the drums beat 
 And the music so sweet 
 But my heart at the time 
 Caught a much greater treat. 
 
 The men were the finest 
 That ever I did see 
 And the Captain with his whiskers 
 Took a sly glance at me.
 
 THE STORM'S GIFT 189 
 
 I remember with superabundant delight 
 How we met on the street 
 And we danced all the night. 
 
 But he's gone from the town 
 And I'll ne'er see him no more 
 But I think of him oft 
 And the whiskers he wore. 
 
 "Now yo Rose Sanders, yo jes close up yo 
 yaller lip, an finish dat dustin'. Yo mus tink Mrs. 
 Fuquay aint got no nerves, de way yo all goes 
 on wif you noise. I nebber saw a yaller pusson 
 dat could sing no way." 
 
 "Why Aunt Dinah. I nebber thought I was 
 disturbin' my mistress. Of course I will keep 
 quiet after dis when I am working about her 
 apartments but I'm so happy Aunt Dinah, cos 
 Captain Gilbert jes tole me dat my sweetheart 
 Mose Adkins who was his body servant, has just 
 been giben his discharge from the army, an we's 
 goin to git married on Christmas." 
 
 "Rose, is dat no count Captain Gilbert round 
 dis house? Yo silly gals think kase a man looks 
 purty, dats all dey is to it. But I tell yo dat Cap 
 tain Gilbert aint no man fer my lil honey Lottie." 
 
 Baroness Fuquay could not help but hear this 
 conversation, and with a mother's love and devo 
 tion she availed herself of every means to learn 
 his standing although much of her information 
 came through the servants, it was in no way flat 
 tering to the young man.
 
 190 THE STORM'S GIFT 
 
 THe wreck of the Oriental Empress is well 
 remembered by many of my older readers. And 
 it is my duty, painful though it is to record here 
 that Baron Fuquay and his daughter Lottie were 
 passengers on the ill-fated ship. 
 
 The loss of life was almost total, the life 
 boat that carried the Baron and his daughter was 
 swamped after three days struggle with the ele 
 ments, and Baron Fuquay who was not a robust 
 man at best succumbed to the cold and exposure 
 on the fourth day. Lottie and a young Irish sailor 
 were the only survivors of the life boat that wash 
 ed ashore on a barren rocky coast in a remote 
 corner of Ireland. 
 
 The girl was picked up by the fisher folk of 
 the coast, and for weeks she was unconscious. 
 She had happily fallen into kind hands, and even 
 after her physical health was restored she had 
 no recollections of who she was or where she came 
 from. She would sit for hours on a rocky headline 
 gazing out to sea, trying to refresh her lapsed 
 memory. 
 
 Roy Gilbert had been sent to Ireland on a 
 trifling mission for the United States, and while 
 in Ireland, hearing of the splendid fishing, on 
 some parts of the Irish coast had decided to spend 
 a couple of days at the exact point where Lottie 
 was living with the fisher family. 
 
 One day ; in fact the day Gilbert was leaving 
 for Dublin, he spied the form of a maiden seated 
 on the rocks in what seemed to him a very danger-
 
 THE STORM'S GIFT 191 
 
 ous position. He approached the girl cautiously; 
 and judge his surprise, to find her to be his affi 
 anced bride, Lottie Fuquay. Seizing her by the 
 arm he dragged her from the perilous position 
 she was in, and almost shouted, "Why Darling 
 Lottie, we all believed you dead." 
 
 "The news reached Washington, two months 
 ago that all on board the Empress were lost, even 
 now your mother, and that young south sea 
 islander are out on the seas trying to get some 
 tidings of you and your father." 
 
 To all this Lottie only gave the new comer a 
 blank stare, and for a time Roy did not realize 
 the situation; at last however, it dawned on him 
 that her reason was impaired by the hardships 
 she had undergone, and it was with considerable 
 difficulty he got her to accompany him to the 
 fisherman's house where she had been staying. 
 Roy told her story to the fisher folk ; adding that 
 she was his promised bride. To all this Lottie, 
 did not give the slightest heed. Her usual inquiry 
 was if her father had returned from the Embassy, 
 and when they were to start for America. She 
 often spoke of Hugh, and prayed that she might 
 some day find him. 
 
 It is needless to say that these remarks ) 
 Lottie were bitter as gall to the young Captain, 
 and he decided if possible to marry the girl while 
 in Ireland, and while she was in her present men 
 tal condition, and I wish to state here, that had it 
 not been for the peculiar and stringent marriage
 
 192 THE STORM'S GIFT 
 
 laws in some parts of Ireland, the heartless young 
 army Captain would have carried out this most 
 unfair plan. 
 
 When the news reached Washington of the 
 loss of the Oriental Empress and her entire list 
 of passengers, Hugh had only arrived at that city, 
 and it was delegated to him to break the terrible 
 news to Baroness Fuquay of the second loss of her 
 husband and daughter. Although the young 
 man was tender and discreet, when the full facts 
 dawned on the Baroness it was too much for 
 human nature to stand, and after a hysterical 
 shriek, she called for her baby Lottie, nor could 
 she be quieted until the servants assisted by 
 Hugh, constructed her a rag baby much the same 
 as she had carried all those weary miles in Love- 
 land.
 
 THE STORM'S GIFT 193 
 
 Chapter XVIII 
 The Duel 
 
 Hugh Clarke remained in Washington until 
 Baroness Fuquay was much recovered in mind, 
 and reason. However this last great shock was too 
 much for the Baroness to ever fully overcome. 
 She had learned to love Hugh with a mother's 
 deep affection; and when he confided to her his 
 intentions of again crossing the Atlantic in 
 search of news of Lottie, she begged him to re 
 main with her in Washington, for said she, you 
 are all I have in the world now. 
 
 Hugh explained that he had not given up all 
 hope of some day finding Lottie, for as he said he 
 did not believe that God would have given him the 
 great privilege of saving her from the storm, and 
 then take her away again by the same means, 
 and he argued that in his belief there would be 
 survivors heard from some time; and as the ship 
 was wrecked off the coast of Ireland, his next 
 voyage would be to those shores, so accordingly 
 after much pleading he got the Baroness' consent 
 to take the voyage, and left her much improved 
 in spirits by his cheerful view of the matter, 
 always insisting that he would bring her good 
 news of her loved ones. 
 
 It was late in the season when he made the
 
 194 THE STORM'S GIFT 
 
 trip and the voyage was a rough one, but after 
 two weeks of blows and rains, he landed safely in 
 Liverpool, England, and hastened to Ireland. Here 
 he settled down to a systematic search for tidings 
 of the lost ship. For days and weeks, nothing was 
 learned to give him encouragement. He was be 
 coming most disheartened, when one evening he 
 entered a public house for rest and refreshment. 
 And while seated at a table enjoying a glass of 
 wine and a biscuit, he overheard a half intoxicated 
 sailor recounting to some friends, his recent ex 
 perience in a shipwreck. The sailor had arisen to 
 leave the place when Hugh called him back and 
 asked him to give a further account of the wreck. 
 
 He emphasized his request by ordering a bot 
 tle of costly wine so the sailor settled himself at 
 Hugh's table with a low bow, and a friendly 
 smile. 
 
 "Well yer honor," spoke the Sailor, "I sup 
 pose ye are one of thim writer fellers, that's look- 
 in* fur sea yarns, but what I am tellin' ye in the 
 gospel truth. The gal and I are the only persons 
 saved from the Empress, and as the gal has gone 
 batty I'm the only one as know the particulars. 
 I aint been to no shipping point yit to give in the 
 affair, nor aint drawn my money for the trip 
 thats why I am sorter spongin around." 
 
 Hugh handed the sailor a five pound note 
 and insisted that he go on with the particulars at
 
 THE STORM'S GIFT 195 
 
 once. The sight of the money filled the sailor with 
 still deeper respect for the well dressed young 
 man and the sailor resumed: 
 
 "Your Lordship." 
 
 "Excuse me, shipmate, I am not your Lord 
 ship, but Captain Hugh Clarke of the "Lottie," 
 a sailing schooner of the Pacific." 
 
 "Wall I declair, them names sound familiar," 
 spoke the sailor, thet gal's name was Lottie, and 
 say Captain yer first name is the same as she 
 kept callin' over so much when she was ravin' 
 after we run out of food and water." 
 
 The story told by the sailor was much the 
 same as has been told for years. Their great 
 hope of an early rescue; their subsequent disap 
 pointment, the death of two older women that 
 were in the life boat ; the suffering and raving of 
 Baron Fuquay, how at last he believed Lottie to 
 be his long lost wife; how he died in the girl's 
 arms begging her to remain faithful to his mem 
 ory ; and telling her of great diamond interests he 
 held in South Africa. "For six days," continued 
 the sailor, "we kept the corpse in the boat. At last 
 I begged the girl to allow me to cast the body in 
 the sea, for although the sea was rough and the 
 weather cold, the dead body was becoming offens 
 ive. This the girl would not permit, and it was 
 not until the girl had lost her reason that I found 
 it possible to consign the body to the sea." 
 
 "Can you take me to the fishing hamlet where
 
 196 THE STORM'S GIFT 
 
 you left the girl?" inquired Hugh in a manner so 
 calm that the sailor never dreamed of the close 
 relationship that existed between them. 
 
 "Why Captain," replied the sailor, "It is 
 barely thirty miles from here, and you can find it 
 as well as though I were along." He gave Hugh 
 the name of the fisher folk as well as the name and 
 location of the village. Hugh gave the sailor a 
 twenty pound note, and with a hearty hand shake 
 bade the wrecked mariner farewell. 
 
 Hugh lost no time in securing a two horse 
 rig and started for the spot that would at last 
 end his search for his lost love. He had realized 
 from the start that the sailor was describing none 
 other than Lottie and her father. Of course he 
 was greatly distressed to learn that Lottie had 
 temporarily lost her reason, but was sure with 
 proper nursing it would return, owing to her 
 fresh young health and vigor. 
 
 The journey at that time through western 
 Ireland was slow and rough, and it required two 
 days to reach the fishing hamlet. Judge our he- 
 roe's disappointment on learning that the girl 
 had been removed to some place unknown to the 
 fisherman's good wife, and by a young man, who 
 on being described, Hugh at once judged to be 
 Roy Gilbert. Hugh had been given a perfect de 
 scription of Gilbert and also knew that young Gil. 
 bert was the lad that had called him a simp to 
 Lottie when they were all children. 
 
 After learning all the particulars possible,
 
 THE STORM'S GIFT 197 
 
 Captain Hugh returned to the city with the hired 
 conveyance and there paid and dismissed the rig. 
 Two days later while glancing over a morning 
 paper the following paragraph met his eyes. 
 "American Army Officer sails on Great 
 Eastern accompanied by Miss Cnarlotte 
 Fuquay, daughter of the late Baron Fu- 
 quay, lost in the wreck of the Oriental 
 Empress." 
 
 Here followed a lengthy account of the 
 wrecking of the Empress, and the article went on 
 to state that Miss Fuquay had not fully recovered 
 in health or reason owing to the terrible hard 
 ships she has undergone, before being cast ashore 
 off the Irish coast. 
 
 Hugh grabbed his hat and coat and flew for 
 the shipping offices, only to learn that he could not 
 make a reservation for New York for six days. 
 Wireless, was unknown in those days, and it was 
 an almost frantically impatient young man that 
 paced the corridors of the city's most popular 
 hotel. 
 
 On the arrival of the Great Eastern at New 
 York, Roy Gilbert wired Baroness Fuquay that he 
 had found her daughter and would arrive the next 
 day. Lottie's reason was fast returning, and she 
 was now showing a disposition to shun young Gil 
 bert, who was assuming considerable proprietor 
 ship over the girl. Of course as yet she did not 
 know that Hugh was still alive; for the selfish 
 Roy Gilbert had withheld that information.
 
 198 THE STORM'S GIFT 
 
 The meeting between mother and daughter 
 was too sacred and touching to give even an at 
 tempt at description here, although much of the 
 poor lady's loss of husband was made up by the 
 return of her daughter. 
 
 After embracing they sat down gazing in 
 each others faces, silently weeping, then without 
 a word, they would arise and embrace each other 
 again, their joy bordered on hysterics, and I re 
 peat I will not try further to describe the touching 
 scene. 
 
 Young Gilbert fairly haunted the Fuquay 
 home. Lottie had told him that she could never 
 become his wife, and explained that recent events 
 had made it impossible for her to entertain the 
 thought. 
 
 "I know your reason for this change of atti 
 tude," Roy flashed angrily, "it's that simp that 
 was so enamored of your curls, and so enthusi 
 astic over the fact that you were a girl, when he 
 thought you were only a boy." 
 
 "Captain Gilbert," replied Lottie, "I will not 
 be surprised if Captain Clarke demands an apolo 
 gy from you for calling him a simp when he was a 
 child I wrote him the facts at the time and I still 
 have his reply saying he would call on you when 
 he visited Washington, and do something to you. 
 I think he said he would slap your face." 
 
 "That sounds like the ruffian he is," retorted 
 Gilbert, "I wish you to remember that I am a 
 gentleman and an army officer."
 
 THE STORM'S GIFT 199 
 
 "Captain Gilbert," replied Lottie, '"I am not 
 ungrateful for the many services you have ren 
 dered me. Still you must have heard how Hugh 
 Clarke almost a baby at the time rescued me from 
 the sea. How before I was five years old I learned 
 to idolize him as my hero, so if when he reaches 
 Washington I learn that he bears for me one- 
 thousandth the love I cherish for him, all the 
 riches of the earth and all other men's love could 
 never change my feelings toward him." 
 
 "You are still unbalanced in mind," cruelly 
 retorted, Gilbert. "I had your promise and I will 
 never give you up to that ignorant limb of white 
 trash." 
 
 "Pardon me," retorted Lottie, "I do not care 
 to discuss the subject with you further." With 
 this she left the room. 
 
 Young Gilbert sought his hat muttering 
 threats on Captain Clarke. 
 
 "I will get him I will treat him in such a 
 manner that he will be compelled to demand satis 
 faction, that will give me the choice of weapons. 
 I doubt if the fool sailor ever fired a pistol in his 
 life, and I am regarded as the best pistol shot in 
 the army. I will waive the ten pace regulation 
 and give him twenty paces, I can hit a copper 
 penny with either of my pistols at twenty paces, 
 nine times out of ten," and as he walked along 
 his upper lip curled in a vicious smile, he contin 
 ued "I will cure her baby infatuation with a half 
 ounce of cold lead."
 
 200 THE STORM'S GIFT 
 
 Captain Hugh's voyage across the Atlantic 
 was the shortest most uneventful he had yet 
 made, and our hero arrived in Washington just 
 ten days after Gilbert's and Lottie's arrival. 
 
 As he hadn't sent the Baroness a wire, his 
 arrival was an utter surprise to all. 
 
 On being ushered into the drawing room of 
 the Fuquay home, he came face to face with a tall 
 slender young lady. He halted in his tracks em 
 barrassed. When Lottie rushed up'to him and 
 threw both arms about his neck. 
 
 "Oh Hugh," she exclaimed, "I know it must 
 be Hugh." 
 
 "My darling Lottie," was all the agitated 
 young man could say. His next words were "God ! 
 was there ever such beautiful hair." 
 
 "Your ideas regarding hair seems somewhat 
 changed" replied the girl naively, then remember 
 ed herself, she coyly slipped from his embrace, 
 and said. "I beg your pardon, Mr. Clarke or 
 rather Captain Clarke, the pleasure of seeing you 
 again made me quite forget myself," and poor 
 Hugh with little or no experience in love affairs 
 regarded this as indifference on the part of his 
 long sought sweetheart. He stood before her, his 
 mind reverting to well remembered days, and the 
 sobbing sweetness of the past rose before him. 
 Again she faced him and a light more tender 
 shone in her eyes. 
 
 "You must make your home with us," she
 
 THE STORM'S GIFT 201 
 
 said, "as you did before I came back. Come Cap 
 tain, mother will be anxious to welcome you 
 home." 
 
 Mrs. Fuquay did not try to conceal her de 
 light at the return of Hugh, and with a mother's 
 kiss sobbed out her sorrow and joy. 
 
 A servant announced Captain Gilbert, and it 
 was with a sinking heart that Lottie ordered he 
 be ushered into their presence. Lottie left the 
 task of introducing the gentleman to her mother. 
 Hugh held out his hand in friendly greeting to 
 the young army Captain who showed a half 
 sneering reluctance in accepting it. The conver 
 sation was strained and unnatural, and Hugh soon 
 found an excuse to withdraw on a matter of busi 
 ness. 
 
 Hardly had the door closed behind him, when 
 Captain Gilbert began pressing his claims for 
 Lottie's hand in marriage, reminding the mother 
 that he had saved her from drowning, and also 
 from a worse fate, when as he claimed he had 
 sailed to Ireland for the sole purpose of finding 
 her, and discovered her among coarse fishermen 
 and in a demented state. 
 
 Baroness Fnquay begged him to give them 
 time to at le,ast delay his suit until the joy of her 
 return was partly realized; for continued the 
 Baroness, my daughter's wishes and happiness 
 shall be mine and the man of her choice I will 
 love as a son. So they parted ; the Captain vow 
 ing vengeance on his rival.
 
 202 THE STORM'S GIFT 
 
 Horse racing those days was a national sport. 
 The high and low all met on more equal 
 terms on the race track than at any other time 
 and place in the capitol. Hugh had been attracted 
 to the race course through a friend from Oregon, 
 that had brought to the races an unknown mare 
 that bespoke the greatest possibilities. It was 
 while talking with his friend that he heard a 
 woman scream in a grove of timber adjoining the 
 race track. He hastened in the direction from 
 whence came the scream, and found Roy Gilbert 
 in a fit of frenzy choking a young lady ; who was 
 near fainting from his brutal treatment. Hugh 
 lost no time on words, but with a well directed 
 blow to the villian's chin, had the satisfaction of 
 seeing his rival wallowing in the dust while Hugh 
 gave his attention to the half fainting hysterical 
 young woman. She was sobbing out her troubles 
 and Hugh could not help but hear her pitiful tale. 
 Gilbert had just told her that he was about to bo 
 married to a young French lady of noble birth 
 and had offered her money as a balm for the mis 
 erable position he had placed her in. This form 
 ally proud girl, was begging the boon of becoming 
 the brute's wife, for as she screamed "it is not for 
 myself I ask this favor, but for the future of my 
 unborn babe." 
 
 Gilbert slowly arose to his feet and with a 
 glance filled with hate said to Hugh : 
 
 "My second will call on you this evening." 
 
 Hugh took the young lady direct to Baroness
 
 THE STORM'S GIFT 203 
 
 Fuquay, who received her kindly, after hearing 
 her pitiful story of love and shame, placed her in 
 a beautiful room. It was found the rough treat 
 ment of Gilbert was too much for the delicate girl, 
 and in less than a week, the hearse that drove 
 up to the Fuquay mansion bore away the body of 
 the poor girl and her new born babe. 
 
 The evening of the races, a tall military 
 young man called on Hugh at his club and pre 
 sented him with Gilbert's card and a challenge to 
 fight a duel at daybreak. The challenge left no 
 choice of weapons, as Gilbert thinking Hugh knew 
 nothing of the duelling laws, had proposed, I may 
 say ordered, that they fight with pistols. 
 
 While Hugh was still scanning the document 
 a second visitor s'tood before him. This arrival 
 was none other than Gus Williams, who had re 
 cently completed a new revolver and was visiting 
 Washington to secure a patent on his invention. 
 Hugh excused himself to the army man long 
 enough to greet his old friend, and then exclaim 
 ed : "Gus ! old friend, you are just in time to do me 
 a great service. I have just received a challenge 
 to fight a duel at daybreak. Will it be asking too 
 much of you to act as my second?" 
 
 "What are you going to fight with Hugh, 
 boy?" 
 
 "The challenger has named pistols," replied 
 Hugh. 
 
 "Then let me take the job off your hands," 
 begged Williams, "with this new gun of mine, I
 
 204 THE STORM'S GIFT 
 
 can cut a center at fifty yards, every shot, but," 
 continued he, "I've got nothing to say, I didn't 
 have anything on you with a pistol when we left 
 Loveland." So the challenge was accepted and 
 the second departed, carrying the news to Gilbert 
 that he had learned that his opponent was a dead 
 shot. Heavy drinking and this unwelcome news 
 did not serve to steady Roy Gilbert's nerves, for 
 the occasion. 
 
 Hugh spent most of the night writing to his 
 parents, and to Lottie, he wrote a brief note say 
 ing that as a gentleman he was compelled to give 
 Gilbert satisfaction for knocking him down in the 
 defense of a helpless young lady. He further 
 wrote that before this note reached her the duel 
 would be over, and continued the note: "in the 
 event I am killed I have this day made you my 
 heiress as my parents do not need any financial 
 assistance. Gus Williams arrived in Washington 
 this evening and is with me even now. Should I 
 survive the contest we will call on you tomorrow. 
 To yourself and sweet mother, I tender my un 
 dying affection. Again with love, Hugh." 
 
 "Look here Hugh, this gun will just fit your 
 haijd. It is balanced to a hair, and shoots one hun 
 dred yards exactly where you hold it. There is no 
 rebound or bouncing as there is with those old 
 army pistols. This one looks rough on the exter 
 ior but she is all hand made and as true as a pure 
 woman's heart. Take her boy, them Army fellers
 
 THE STORM'S GIFT 205 
 
 will laugh at it, but in about a week when the 
 patent office report comes out, they will change 
 their tune." 
 
 The morning of the duel was a foggy dreary 
 one, but both cabs containing the principals and 
 seconds reached the grounds at about the same 
 time. Gilbert's seconds were men enough to offer 
 Hugh one of their pistols, but Hugh declined it 
 showing them the crude looking gun Williams 
 claimed so much for. It seemed neither of the 
 principals had slept as both were clothed in even 
 ing dress suits, and as for Hugh, we know he had 
 not slept at all for it had required most of the 
 night to get through with his legal business, and 
 he gave the rest of the night to visiting with 
 Williams. 
 
 Gilbert's seconds took charge of the affair, 
 and an old doctor, that had come with them 
 whispered to Hugh to refuse to fight, for said he : 
 "You and your weapon have no chance whatever 
 with the Captain, who has spent much of the 
 night in pistol practice in a cellar built for that 
 purpose." Hugh thanked the kindly old doctor, 
 adding that the loss of his life mattered little as 
 other personal worries were weighing heavily 
 upon him. 
 
 At twenty paces the young men stood facing 
 each other. Gilbert pale and vicious, Hugh cool 
 and resigned. At the given signal both pistols 
 spoke at once. Hugh's pistol arm fell to his side.
 
 206 THE STORM'S GIFT 
 
 For a moment young Gilbert stood as if unharm 
 ed, then he threw his arms in the air and fell to 
 the ground. Hugh's bullet had pierced his left 
 lung just below the heart. As they lifted Gilbert 
 to his carriage an officer drove up with a warrant 
 for his arrest charging him with the indirect mur 
 der of his former sweetheart whose name we shall 
 withhold. 
 
 Hugh had received a heavy one-half ounce 
 ball in his right shoulder, it was an ugly wound 
 and was bleeding profusely. Williams staunched 
 the blood as best he could. The old surgeon be 
 ing occupied with the now unconscious Gilbert. 
 Williams ordered the cabman to drive them with 
 all haste to Hugh's rooms where he summoned 
 one of Washington's most noted surgeons. 
 
 Lottie was reading an account of the duel in 
 a morning paper when Hugh's letter arrived by 
 carrier. 
 
 "Merciful Father in Heaven," cried the poor 
 girl, "Here I sit helpless when perhaps my darling 
 is dead or dying." She ran to her mother with the 
 news, and ordered a black servant to bring around 
 the carriage as soon as it could be prepared. It 
 was still raining when she reached the carriage 
 and everything seemed shrouded in gloom for the 
 poor girl, whose whole life had been one series 
 of wonderful adventures. 
 
 On reaching Hugh's rooms, the surgeon had 
 just arrived and would not admit her to the pres 
 ence of the brave young hero. She was informed
 
 THE STORM'S GIFT 207 
 
 that Hugh had swooned from loss of blood, still 
 the wound was not necessarily fatal. So the 
 poor girl returned to her home to lay her added 
 sorrows at the shrine of her mother's love. 
 
 After removing the heavy slug of lead from 
 Hugh's shoulder, Hugh regained consciousness 
 and immediately inquired about Gilbert, saying: 
 "I did not mean to kill him outright, and had only 
 hoped to lay him up for a time as I am sure the 
 law will not let him go unpunished for his brutal 
 treatment of the girl at the race track."
 
 208 THE STORM'S GIFT 
 
 Chapter XIX 
 "I Thank the Storms" 
 
 As soon as Roy Gilbert could be removed 
 from the hospital he was arrested and charged 
 with the murder of his former sweetheart. At 
 the trial he was found guilty of manslaughter, and 
 was sentenced for life in the penitentiary. 
 
 The next day after Lottie had visited the 
 Wounded Hugh at his rooms, she sent for Williams 
 and unfolded this plan. 
 
 "Dear Uncle Gus," pleaded the girl, "Mamma 
 and I want him here. Say to him that you must 
 take him to a hospital. He is too proud, he will 
 not come willingly thinking he will give trouble. 
 Bring him at once to our door; if you fetch him 
 here, I will see that he does not get away." So 
 good hearted Gus did as the sweet girl bid him 
 do. Early next day found Hugh in the coziest 
 bed chamber of the mansion with a view of the 
 capitol's dome from his window. 
 
 Lottie was seated at his bedside, Hugh's face 
 was pale and haggard, still a new light was begin 
 ning to shine in his eyes. 
 
 "Hugh dear," said the girl, "What if he had 
 killed you!" 
 
 "I didn't think at the time that you would 
 care much," replied Hugh.
 
 THE STORM'S GIFT 209 
 
 "How dare you say such a thing," said the 
 girl, "you know you are all Mamma and I now 
 have to love." 
 
 "Could you love me, Lottie dear? as I want 
 your love, the love of a wife for her husband?" 
 This inexperienced young lover had suffered a 
 long course in the college of Hades, with a voice 
 that went quivering into her soul he continued, 
 "I will love you even after the crown of a silent 
 sleep touches my eyelids, forever." His unbent 
 thoughts were wandering among the marvels of 
 her beauty. To him she was an angel with 
 white woven wings. Her beauty had smoothed 
 the face of his trouble, and again he was panning 
 the jewels of his heart to fall at the feet of his 
 queen. 
 
 "Don't you wish I was a boy, Hugh? Now 
 you know you wish I were. Shan't I bring you 
 the scissors dear so you can cut my curls again ?" 
 
 "Don't punish me farther, Darling Lottie, it 
 is impossible for me to conceive why I was such 
 an egotistical numbscull when a child," replied 
 Hugh. "I will live the remainder of my life in 
 atonement for my silly childhood fancies." 
 
 "Are you sure you will not put me back in 
 the water?" inquired Lottie "if I promise to 
 marry you?" It seemed that the curtained win 
 dows of her soul was a problem far beyond him. 
 There was a rose at her bosom, that lost much
 
 210 THE STORM'S GIFT 
 
 of its beauty by comparison. She had gnarled 
 the full message of love's clinging tendrels about 
 his pure young heart. 
 
 While he still lay there on his downy bed he 
 viewed his early errant character with regret. In 
 his impassioned idolatry he had not forgotten the 
 sterner realities of life. 
 
 "Darling," he continued, "will you come with 
 me to Oregon?" 
 
 The girl drew nearer, then knelt at his bed 
 side placing her arms about his neck, she said with 
 a happy sob : 
 
 "To all the questions you have asked me dear 
 est, my answer is Yes ! Yes ! Yes !" 
 
 Hugh brought her sweet lips to his own, and 
 said "All praises to the storm for this priceless 
 gift." 
 
 THE END.
 
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