A STRANDED SHIP: A STORY OF SEA AND SHORE. By L. CLARKE DAVIS. PART IV. (Concluded).

Te Aroha News, Volume II, Issue 82, 27 December 1884, Page 4

A STRANDED SHIP: A STORY OF SEA AND SHORE. By L. CLARKE DAVIS. PART IV. (Concluded).

«' Will you take her up and be kind to her ?" Luke said to the old wife, whose arms were already about her. " Tea, I will— for her own sake, as well as yours," she answered. He entered the bathing-house then, and when he came out again a fisherman's great coat, reaching to his feet, covered him. He walked out among the crowd of villagers, who formed a line on either side of him, through which he might pass, aa they would have done for a great conqueror, and then stood sorrowfully watching him as he passed on to his certain grave. The wreckers had the lines quite ready, and waited for him. The ship lay a quarter of a mile offshore, the sea thundering against her broadside, every tenth wave making a clean breach over her ; her passengers and crew huddled together on the forward deck, clinging to the rigging, gunwales, or any possible object of protection, 11 Are you quite ready, Capt'n Connor?" tho wrecking-master asked, wiping great beads of sweat from his face • • All ready, Captain. " The voice in which the answer was given was blithe and cheery ; the mail's step was free and assured. ' ' One moment, Captain Brown. My horse there. He has never felt any other legs than mine across him ; promise me that no other than yourself shall ever use him." " I promise, Captain Luke." The men gathered around and hid him from the villagers above. The old wreckingmaster securely fastened tho thin, strong cord about his shoulders and under his arms. That in turn was made fast to a thicker, stronger cord, and that in its turn to a cable of sufficient strength to sustain tho weight of the life-car. Then the wreckers manned the ropes stretching down to the surf. The time had come. The naked figure of the man gleamed white and solid as ivory ; the knotted muscles stood up about the arms and thighs and breasts in hard, &teely bunches. The Hercules scarcely stood stronger, fairer to the sight. He looked death in the face squarely, and did not falter. He looked out to the far sea-line, to tho wreck crowded with its living freight, then he looked back over his old, foul life, back to the time when it was pure and true. Forgive the man his one moment of weakness, for it was his last ; but he thought for a single instant of the beautiful world he was giving up for ever, of the women who had lain in i his bosom, of the children who had loved him, of Margaret ; and as the mountainous ; wave rolled in foaming and hungry, he closed his eye, saying farewell and farewell to them all, adding only, ' ' God have mercy on me, a sinner !" " Wait for the next, Capt'n — not that one— the next," shouted the old wrecker. " I will wait till you tell me to go," he said. "Keep the line slack, but under ready control ; and in no case arc you to draw it in until an hour has gone by. If you have to draw it in then, first send the women and children away. Shall I try this breaker, Captain 1" " Yes. God bless you, Capt'n — God bless you — God for ever " The man was gone. He had waited until the instant that the thundering wave reared its awful crest and poised itself for the break upon the shore ; then he sprang forward, plunging headlong under it. Then the men about the ropes stood ready to receive back his body with life or without it. But it did not return to them on that wave, and with a piteous sense of terror on their faces they turned to watch the line that slowly began to uncoil itself, and to glide through the master's fingers. For a moment, while they all stood gravely watching coil after coil glide away, no man spoke ; then the master looked up, his lips white, hia hands trembling. "Thank God, mates, he has passed the first breaker." He had, and was thus far safe. Diving under, instead of into the wave, it had swept harmlessly over him, and he knew he would have a second's breathing space to prepare himself for the next one. He saw it, as he emerged into the trough of the sea, sweeping down upon him with a mighty surge and roar, but before it could reach him he was down again, beneath it and in the undertow of the first breaker, going rapidly out and out to sea. The villagers and guests cf the farm came down to the shore, and stood where the spray dashed over them, looking out among the waves with anxious, hopeless eyes, but nowhere could they distinguish the head of the swimmer; and they thought sorrowfully of him, as one over whom the deep waters had closed, leaving his place vacant among living men for ever. The line stood still, or swayed from side to feide, then ran out rapidly and tightened in the Captain's fingers ; again it slackened, and Y» r d after yard of it was flung back to shore on the crest of a wave ; but as often as hope seemed certainly to die in the hearts of the watchers there, the line would gather up and tighten, giving assurance that Luke Connor was still alive. He was alive, and having treated the third breaker as he did the former ones, it passed as harmlessly over him, and by no power of theirs would he ever touch the shore again. Between him and the ship there was yet nearly a quarter of a mile of mad, turbulent sea, rolling and heaving before the wind, on which he was tossed like a cork — forward sometimes, sometimes backward. But all that was really nothing to the skilful swimmer, who had learned his art in the ocean. If his strength endured the man was certain to win. So on each wave he ro3e and fell, now going ahead, now losing more in one moment than he had gained in three, yet on tho whole surely lessening the distance between him and the ship, for the tide carried him forward. By the side of the old Captain stood Margaret Daunton, very quiet, pale and tearless. She touched the wrecker's arm, and he looked up. . " I -would like to hold that cord, if you will let me," she said. "My hand is even I steadier than your own. I know what is to be done. I have stood here watching you from the first. Will you let me take the cord now ? Do not fear ; no harm shall come to him through my hands. Will you trust me with it ?" "Yes, I will, Miss Marg'ret— l'll trust you ; but remember, he's past the breakers now, and it's only a question of main strength with him. There are a thousand chances that the sea will wear him out before he can reach that ship ; and if, when every breath was precious as life to him, that cord tightened in your hands, it might drag him down never to come up again. I've told you now, Mies Marg'ret, will you take it ?" " Yes, Captain Brown, and it Bhall not be tightened nor loosened in my hands wrongly. I know what is to be done. There is no one here, that has my right to hold that cord."

He handed it to her, and she stood over it in his place and felt, as it glided through her fingers, that Luke Connor was yet safe, and directly came to know by its decreasing coils that either he had drifted far away from it, or that he was near the ; ship. ! She held it until the minutes seemed to ! have crept into hours, hours into days, and it yet glided away, or stood still, or was washed shoreward, while other hours and l days seem to evolve themselves out of its coils, until all sense of time and scene was lost to her. But as certainly as hope seemed to die out in their hearts, causing them to look blankly into each other's faces, so surely would the line tighten again and fling back assurance that Luke Connor was ©till among living men. But in tlie moment that the smile was brightest in their laces, and hope greatest in their hearts, yards and yards of the slender cord glided swift as lightning, or a fish's ilight, through the girl's hands, and the Captain sprang toward her, dragged it from her grasp, and hauled it fiercely in. " What is it, Captain Brown ? ' sho cried piteously. " What is it that I have done wrong ?" "Nothin' wrong with you, Miss Marg'ret," he answered, gruftly. ''Nothin' wrong with you, but more nor an hour is gone, Miss Marg'ret, and we should have a-drawed in afore now." A frightened whisper, which she eagerly caught at, went through the crowd, and killed every particle of hope within them. I What sho heard was this : " There be a dead man and a shark at t'other ond of that line." She started up from among thorn, hor j hand tossing back from hor cyos thogoldon splendour of her hair, her right arm | stretched straight out before her, hor voice \ ringing, resonant. " No, no no, you mis- ' take. See there ! see there ! Look at tho ship, and thank God. Oh, thank God, all of you !" They turned their eyes to where the 1 white arm pointed , and they saw a man naked, dragged up from among the jib j chains of the wretched ship, they saw him mount to the deck, and heard tho passengers and crew shout out their joyful cry of deliverance. " Now,^then, some of \ou women take care of that girl, can't you ? ' the old Captain yelled. " And men, can't you raise a single cheer for the bravo fellow as saved a hundred lives ? Can't you yell, you devils, you ?" No, they could not. The old Captain could not do it himself. "I can't help blubbering a bit, Tom Hemphill, for I am mortal fond of that young fellow, I am," the Captain said. For awhile they were all dumb ; thoir sudden gladness, after the sharp pain, was cracking their heartstrings, choking them. But the moment gone, th y shouted till they were hoarse, and then all of them went to work like men ] who had just waked up and were beginning a new day, fresh and hearty, every one of them working like six. J Then away spun the line, through nobody's hands now, away and away until the last strong cablo of all wan made fast to the ship, drawn taut, and then along spun the life-car; with a couple of brave iollowt in it, to the wreck. | In five minutes it was back again on shore, full of women, with their babes on their breasts, and a hundred women more, fish wives and farmers' wive.-, with their babies snug at home, all crowding about the poor, delivered people, trying to show them, by all the kind ways they knew, how they rejoiced over the rescue. But there was one little baby in the car with no mother's breast to lie on now, for she had gone down into the cruel foam of the sea when the ship parted ; and Margaret Daunton took it reverently in her arms, haying that God had sent it to her, and calling it Theodora, and she calls it that to this day. The sturdy wreckers worked with a will ; but somehow, they were silent and awed over this deliverance, for the curious fancy of Luke Connor had got abroad among them ; and rough and coarse as many of them were, they believed in his fancy ; and as they dragged the life- car to and from the ship, until every man and woman and child, except the ship's officers, were landed, they were strangely impressed with the bolief that God had wrought as great a miracle that clay among them as lie had done long a<^o, when he bade other fishermen, humble as themselves, "launch out into the deep and let down their nets." Dre&sed in a suit of the commander's clothe?, Luke Connor- stood with the officers of the wreck around the life-car ready to embark, when the steward called to them from the after-deck. "Hold on there," he said. "A passenger has been left in his berth, too ill to leave it without help. He was left in the cabin when the ship parted, and I have not seen him &ince. It is the young India Ensign, Abel Dunlethc." " Let me go for him, Captain Stevens," Connor said. "I am the strongest and freshest man among you all. I would like to give this sick man his first sight of land and safety. "Very well, Mr Connor, you shall have your Avish. There is nothing that I could deny you to-day. I will show you his quarters." Connor darted past the Captain, caught up a plank, bridging over the chasm in the ship's deck, crossed to the other side, and the next moment stood in the after-cabin ; the only other occupant of which was George Lawrence, the man Luke Connor flung oil of Dunlethe's wharf, that com-mencement-night long ago. The two men for a moment faced each other, unutterable amazement stamped on their features. "Thank God, thank God for this," Luke Connot said under his breath, awed, and feeling as if God himself stood somewhere near. The gaunt, emaciated faco of the sick man grew whiter and thinner as he stated j blankly into Connor's eyes, lie tried to raise himself upon his elbow, but was too weak. "Have you come again to kill mo?" he asked, his voice husky and weak. " I am less able to cope with you now than when you thought you had murdered me, but I will not ask my life at your hands. I deserved that you should kill me, yet now j that I have eeen you again I would like to live. I laid here waiting for death with the breaking up of the wreck, when I heaixl I your step upon the deck, and then I thought of rescue and a chance for a longer life over there in England. I was coming home here only to clear ymur name, to show myself among those who thought you had murdered me. Have you come to save or to kill me, Connor?" "I came to save you. Tell me how it is that I see you alive ?" asked Connor, still speaking in an awed whisper. 11 1 was picked up from the side of the wharf where you threw me, by a boat that had already started for the landing to take me on board the steamer f«r California. I was carried aboard of hor, my wound dressed, and I arrived safely in San Francisco. Then I went to India." The light of the recognition of a brave man shone in Luke Connor's eyes. " Are you the soldier," he said, " that they call Abel Dnnlethe? — the man who won tho Victoria Cross for planting the standard on the ramparts at Lucknowf*

" ii r es, I am," George Lawrence said, a momentary glow of pride in his tone, his fingers touching the ribbon of the cross laid under his pillow. "I first tried to get shot, and then I tried to live a better, truer life than I had ever known. I started home to tell you that the man you thought dead yet lived, and to ask you in your mercy to forgive him." What -were the words of Kingsley's legend ? Luke Connor asked himself. Presently, recollecting them, he said, "Lawrence, I have read that God grants it to but few men to carry a line to a stranded ship, or to plant the standard on the enemy's ramparts. To me He has granted the first, and to you the other. I accept it as a token that He has forgiven us both j and as He hears me now, so do I forgive you." "God bless you, Connor Will you carry me out now? lam not a heavy weight," the Ensign said. Luke Connov wrapped the sick man in a blanket, placei him in the lifo-car carefully, as mothers that day had placed their children there, and then tho car was hauled away, bearing the last living soul from tho wreck. A curious motley crowd of human boings, wreckers and wrecked, fishermen and their wives, and guests from tho old farmhouse by the river, stood massed upon the shore, as near to the sea as they could get, waiting to welcome their hero among them again. When he landed, the shout they sent up was not only for him, but as a defiance to the defeated winds and waves. He, the man who had brightened their homos, had conquored sea and storm, delivering from the jaws of death a hundred lives. The rescued alone could not join in tho shout, but they drew near to him, craving only to touch the man who, when they had looked into each othors oyos, mutely asking how soon their watery graves would open, had turned the hand of death asido and made homo and happiness possible rcalitios to all of them. Higher up the shore Margaret Daunton stood alone, waiting for him. Seeing her there, they roloasod him, and ho went to her. He put out both his hands to meet hers. " Margaret," he said, " I have come back to you." " Yes." she answered, " God has given you back to me." They walked up tho beach to whero the Professor stood apart, looking out at the old hulk. Ho went down to meet them, and I think that, in the brief moment in which they stood with hand clasped in hand, thore came to each of these men thorough recognition of the other. "It was curious," the Professor said, " that the Captain's last act aboard should be to set his flag at the peak, Now, we would naturally think that his mind would be bent on graver things. 1 ' "I don't know about that, Professor," Luke answered. " The flag will still wave and keep guard over the old hulk after her decks have gone under ; and passing sailors seeing it, will know that her captain was the last man to leave hit; ship. But, Professor Daunton, thero is a sick man yonder whom you once knew. Wherever the btory of Lucknow is repeated, he will bo know n as Abel Dunlethc, but we, Professor, know him as George Law rence. I would be glad if you could be kind to the man. He means to show himself among the people who once know him and me, and then to return to England, where he has frionds, and where he ho2>eg to find health again. Yes! it is true, the dead has roturned to live, and i would like Margarot to hear the story now ; but I would like you to tell her, Professor. " "Captain Connor, you'll excuse me breaking in here, whero I'm most likely not wanted," said the old wrecking-master ; " but " Miss Marg'ret here, who's by sights the most onrcasonable young woman I know, obleeged me to give her that line to hold, because you was strung onto the other end of it." As the old fellow fired this tremendous shot, his face, which had been grave as an owl's, suddonly relaxod into a broad smile, and there was a jolly gurgle of laughter in his throat. "So you held tho line, Margaret?" " Yes, Luke" "See, Margaret," he paid, taking her hand in his," " see how the old fables repeat themselves ! An Argonaut sails into your inlet one day, and as he steps ashore the sun is shining on the tawny masses of your hair, and he knows that he has found the golden fleece he sought, and that it waves alone for him, a symbol ot etetnal happiness." Starlight has fallen on field and sea and river, and Margarot Daunton's shining hair is lying on her mother's breo&t ; she has told her secret to the only woman who has a right to know it. " Bring Luko Connor here, Margaret," her mother said, "But listen to me first; when I took you across the threshold of your deserted home (and you were only a little child then, with your head upon my breast, as it now is), I made a solemn vow to God for you, which I am trying hard to keep. I hope God hears and sees me now, when I give you to this man, and to keep the oath I made ; for it should count in His eyes against a multitude of sins. That is all, Margaret : bring him here." Starlight on field and sea and river, and the stars looking down saw some wreckers grouped about a fire on the shore, like jackals waiting for their prey, patiently watching an old hulk stranded on the bar, battered and hammered at by the sea, with the red cross of St. George flaunting bravely at her peak. They saw her, as she was slowly beaten to death on the shoals, lurch suddenly to leeward and go down for ever into the unknown depths. Tho stars looking in at the farm-house window, saw the old Professor sitting at the bedside of a man, on whose breast gleamed the colours of tho Victoria Cross, thinking erimly that a bit of ribbon, or a woman's golden hair, might count in men's lives as the greatest triumph —or the greatest loss. " Of all the wrecks upon the shore," he thought, "the worst are those with which the Fea has nothing to do." The stars looking down saw Margaret Daunton andLukeConnor standing together by the gate, looking seaward, quiet and happy in their triumph of love. They saw no more rough seas nor stranded ships. " God is good, and all is well, said Margaret. [the end.]