SHORT STORY.

Alexandra Herald and Central Otago Gazette, Issue 455, 19 January 1905, Page 7

SHORT STORY.

Oaler Wedding Day By Geobge G. PabqchabIT was a quiet wedding—no show, no fuss, no flurry, bq| Just unostentatious and cicoiias, as btSt' beseems the ceremony. even: Only a step separated cottage from the church, and old Ben, with his daughter, the bride, and her cousin, Kate Fletcher, had walked the distance. Dick Ford and his 'best-man, Reuben Grseme, in like wise reached the ancient, lichened edifice. The little building was well-nigh full of interested fisherfolk, a state of repletion which the rector's most learned sermons failed to bring about on Sundays. Various ejaculations uttered in would-be undertones—* Doesn' her luik bonnie?' * She's paler nor I like to see;' • Gray suits her, it do '—from the women, with sundry sniggering 3 and rib-diggings on the part of the men, marked the passage of the ' happy pair' as, leaving fte church, they trod the leaf-strewn part of the churchyard. . i Eh, but he's fort'nifc' to get ach a winsome young woman,* said Miss Mitchell, an elderly epinster. 'She noan knows what she's venturin' on,' replied Mrs Hogan, whose husband was reckoned the most henpecked man in Port St Bede. ' The troubles, the worrits o* men folk 's enow to drive a body crazy. Oh, I know it, Miss Mitchell, nobody .better,' shaking her head dolefully. 'Gaid lock go wi* ye, Mrs Ford,' chorused the women: 'and'Mayyeivcr be blithe, Dtck, T shouted the men. Dick smiled,'and raised-his hat awkwardly—it being the first time he had ever donned a silk hat, he did not feel at homo in it—while Esther clung more tightly to his arm as the good wishes, thronged in on every side. Bride and bridegroom came first, of course; Babe Gneme linked next with Sate; then followed, in straggling order, old Ben and Dick's father—his mother, liket Esther's, had long been at rest beneath the shade of the church tower —Boh Yardes, Ralph Thwaites with Mrs Thwaites, Simeon Howker and wife, and other friends who had been invited to celebrate the event. And so (he little train wended down to the Trawlers'lnn, in the big np-etairs room of which the wedding breakfast was spread. The weather since early morn had been none of the best; atempest hovered in. the air. The elms in. the churchyard creaked

and bent their togs." although no wind was astir; the hush that presaged the coming storm was painful in its brooding stillness. The long-drawn roar of the ocean smote the oars of the wedding, party as they left the church; from the hill, the waves could be seen breaking far out to sea, overleaping and Coking the Fork Bocks like angry tongues of flame round a martyr at the stake. The wind, too, had come, at first ' in short, fitful gusts, gradually prolonged, until, before the inn was reached, the full ■ .force of its strength was pat forth. Heavy drops of rain fell spattering on the uneven cobbles of. the .street, and on the gray shades of the roofs. 5We shall ha'e it noo.' muttered Reuben to Kate, glancing with puckered brow to seaward. 'There'll be no boats ventur' out to-neet, I'm thinkm'.' - * Nayj an' I hope not,' was the reply. Eate was too engrossed just then to give more than a laconic answer—too much engrossed in the study of her cousin's gray dress, in considering "what improvements its style, fit, and 'texture were susceptible JAPm anent the time when she ierself should the foremost place in such another jS procession.- Besides, she resented the transference of Rube's attentions from her own pretty self. to. the black, wrathf ol elemented What place have storms and discord in the music of marriage bells? Verily, none. They might.reserve them-* selves—at least,* so Eate thought—for a later period. Bat'her pique soon wore off when the company.was seated .round the loaded table at the Trawlers! Inn. Here,, the sullen moan of the wind, the thunder of the sea, the patter of the rain, were, forgotten in a flow of boisterous humour more appropriate to the occasion. Geniality and high spirits blotted them from the memory as effectually as if they'were non-existent. The season was to be a season of joy, despite all and right jovially was it inaugurated. Mine host had catered to taste.' '■'.,'' ■"."

There were speeches of course—speeches a little disjointed, perhaps, but full of pleasant banter, and that species of wit denominated 'broad.' The homely sentiments were received with vast applause, and the lively sallies evoked grins and laughter that showed a thorough apprecia- # tion of their point. Dick rase to reply. On entering the inn, he had been in sore perplexity as to whether he should remove his gloves or not, his knowledge of the usages of' society * not extending to certainty on the matter. In fear lest he should violate some unknown canon of etiquette, and probably remembering the trouble he had had in getting them on, ha finally decided to retain the lavender-coloured 'hand-shoes' as long as he could endure the infliction. When he now stood up, he twitched nervously at them, thereby unwittingly drawing attention to the rents between the fingers. * Friendssil,' he began. 'For Esther an' mysert I thank you every one for what you've said about wishin' us both good fortun'. We mean to pull together all through life* as t' parson said,' till death do us part '—an' I hope that'll be a goodish while yet. As for them other things you've almost all spoken, aboot—well, you've had a go at me to-day, ah' welcome I an' I hope I shall have one o* these days o' havin' a go~afcsome o'^rou.' •Hear,hear V brokfr 12-SimeonHowker. A load burst of merriment greeted the ._ interruption. Simeon's exdaniatiou had . 'been simply thrown in to fill op tfte hiatus caused by Dick's momentary A vile mifcaonstzoctien had been puV upon his sympathetic encouragement, Ifcid it only jieeded Ids wife's angry glance toVflnve away for that day all poor Simeon.s enl3kusiasm and appetite. \, ' Well,' continued Dick as socr. as the mirth bad subsided, «I trust yrih'ii all iuik back o* thir 3ay wi* as mneh pleasure as I allays shall- vs.'- r can't •-! ish yon better nor that. .Let me tb?iiM you again, for Esther an* mysen*. >in' now you man a' ha'e a bit o" bridecake.' ~*■ '"-,. " The sugared pyramid in the centre of the table had been specially ordered and baked at JenningsV 0 | jiorperland. Admiring eyes made if their cynosure; it was unanimously tsfjA a real chef-d'oeuvre of the Hardly had Kate taken rnp the wherewith to cut the cake, when tb», landlord of the Trawlers' Inn hastily erfojrea the room. His usually placid was pale with agitation: he plied hii legs rapidly as he hurried across thaTfloor to utter a few breathless words intdtbeears of Balph Thwaites, the ' •I hopes ye, 0 »n al! excuse me,' Balph said, rising a&ckiy to his feet. 'I 'm called Thcer's a ship on the m the smack-Spier's excitement was comLjoniented to thAest of the comP 3ll !' ifSaraites couhjOftve been summoned fqYtine nnrroscSsM an effort was about U: f |g mads Jnfl Hfcie Crew of the 1 W-f*^kme£ M &rm ssk - There; E0 lifeb«P R o ' s 8i Bede >

the nearest station being at Morperland,' ten miles distant. Unfortunately, the absence of the means of help does not imply absence of its need, for in blustering weather the services of a lifeboat were only too frequently required at Port St. Bede. The fishermen, however, had organised a volunteer crew, captained by Thwaites, and many lives had Grreme'B pilot gig venturously snatched from the sea's maw. Dick was only one of a dozen—to their eternal honour, be it said—who often pitted their lives against wind and wave to succour their tempest-smitten fellows. 'Theer's a ship on'the Ports 1' said Thwaites. The words were scarcely out of his mouth before Rube also rose. ' I mun go too,' he said quietly. * * An' I,' cned Bob Yardes, making for the doorway. Straightway, the whole assembly followed suit. There was a stampede for the door—the women impelled fhereto by mingled dread and curiosity; the men, by a laudable desire to help, should their help unfortunately be required. Dick seemed to hesitate a moment before he also rose to his feet and sidled from the table. •You need not go to-day, Dick,'murmured Esther tremulously; • surely not to-day?' * Nay, nay, my lass, don't talk so,' replied Dick with a smile. 'I may be o' some use down theer. Think a bit. Theer's men aboard that ship belike as ha'e wives an* sweethearts at home, wearin' their e'en out for 'em. You can tell what their feelin's is, just as I can. You wouldn't ha'e me stop here, easy an' comfortable, if I could do aught for 'em ; now, would you, lass ?' Esther made no answer. She dared not trust herself to words; she felt that her utterance would show the selfishness she well knew was at the bottom of her reluctance to let her husband go. Yet how hard it was to forswear her thoughts ! * Come, cheer up, Esther,' added Dick, kissing her. ■ We've had t' boat out i' as ugly weather as this before, an' you may be sure Iwon't stop away fro* you a minute more 'n I can help. I'll just step across home an' doff these fine clothes; I must not spoil them.' . 5 Meanwhile, the whole population of the village had gathered on the shore. Overhead,- the murky clouds sped rapidly by, so lew that they appeared to touch the rugged headlands to north and south of the little bay. The air was darkened, as it were dusk. Vast mountains of water curled and broke over the beach with thunder-like I peals, hissing and spuming up to the very. ; feet of the watchers. The chill; cutting

rain beat in their faces so fiercely tbat they I could scarcely discern the quivering ship ' that was beating out her heart upon the • rocks. Heavy seas swept her decks, on ; which the stump of the mizzen was the ■ only spar left- standing; fore and main ' mast had both gone by the board. She j was fast upon the Porks, every succeeding wave just lifting her clear to dash her down again upon the jagged mass. A man had been despatched on horseback to apprise the Mbrperland lifeboat crew of the disaster; but it was plain that before aid could arrive from that quarter, the vessel would be a total wreck. She could i not hold together much longer; the ada- I mantine battering-ram of the Forks was fast splintering her timbers to matchwood. The barque herself was doomed. No rocket could reach her; the sole hope lay in the possibility of a boat approaching near enough >o throw a life-line aboard. The possibility I We had all but said the impossibility. Yet the attempt was about to be made. Already the fishermen had run Graeme's pilot gig down to the water's edge, and already one luckless essay had been made to launch her. An incoming wave had filled her and tossed her back mockingly upon the shingle, her crew scrambling to land as best they might, Tom Croft with his arm broken. Dick arrived just as the catastrophe occurred; he was now dressed in oilskins. Esther followed him, a cloak thrown over her wedding dress, and a heavy shawl supplanting bridal veil and orange blossoms. Dick mechanically stepped forward and took Tom's place in the boat. The second attempt was more successful, for, although some water was shipped, the gig safely topped the advancing wave and rode in deep water. Now came the struggle^—the unequal combat between man's puny strength, backed by courage and determination, and the convulsive power of the sea's onslaught. Anxious eyes, half blinded by the driving scud and salt spray, followed the frail craft as her oars plunged deeply below the swirling surge, rose and dropped again. Now she was seen on the crests of the billows which broke around her in clouds of foam, and anon she disappeared wholly in their hollows. Not yet, however, had she felt the fullbrunt of the seas. Open as the bay was, the protection it afforded was appreciable, so much so, that no sooner had the gig got clear of its shelter than the change became terribly apparent. She no longer met the oncoming waves head on, but broadside; she pitched and staggered, the oars rising and falling spasmodically like the tentacles of some floundering sea-monster. * She'll ne'er mak' the wreck,' exclaimedBen Varley fearfully. ' Ne'er i' this world can she do 't. Sure as I'm livin', they 'll be swamped if they go forrarder.' He had but spoken the words when a huge sea struck her. It hurled her back into the trough, the waters breaking high overhead and pouring into her. For some seconds she was invisible; at length she rose, heavy and inert. She was floating keel upwards. ■ My God P old Ben cried hoarsely, • she's over—she 'scapsized.' Esther, standing near, heard the dire exclamation; but it was not necessary to hear—she had seen. Yet no cry escaped her lips. She simply stood there, as before, •pale with a death-like pallor, mute and motionless. She "was still staring, with stony gaze, in the direction of the overturned boat, when her father touched her gently on the shoulder. 'Come, my lass,' he said, in hushed j tones. ' Thee 'd be best at home. Come.' Esther put her hand to her throat; a muffled sob struggled for utterance, but no tears came. Silently, she took her father's larm and hastened away. Hers was of the gpief that is too deep-lying for outcry—a sorrow that gnaws the heart-strings. tWo hours later, the cart on which the Morp&rland lifeboat had been transported over.'arod rumbled down to the beach. In the interval, however, the ship on the Fork gqne to pieces. - One of her crew olUnging to a fragment of floating \was picked up by the lifeboat, which ahwO>rought ashore the only survivors of the* -.rescue party—Rube Grteme and Bob Yards, tJv?th of whom had managed to hang on to tme boat's keel when she capsized. .->"." Brooding sorrow lot\g gloomed the little fishing thorp of Port SP Bode—sorrow for brave, stilled hearts. And over the cottage of old Ben rests a sombrV) pall that time has failed to raise, or the ho!y>.light of resignation to pierce, .'

When pins were first invented in the fourteenth century thejffiaker allowed to sell them on January 1 fmd" £ only, and upon these days the, ladies nocked \to buy them. They were so expensive t v %^ t t was customary to give as a a certain sum of money to_be used as ' pin money *; hence the term.