CHAPTER XXVII
AND LAST
It may well be wondered why in the much-abused name of common-sense the mariners on board theGrampusdid not, seeing the hopelessness of saving their vessel, make for the boats and leave her. But it must be remembered that, apart from the fact that they were nearly all mixed up in that horrible compost of savagery, there were really only three of them who had any clearness of head remaining. These three, whom I have already named, were busy preparing the starboard quarter boat for leaving when suddenly there burst upon them, like a flood, a mob of natives, and before they had time to draw their weapons they were overpowered, and another dark deed was consummated. As so often has happened in South Sea Island story, the innocent suffered equally with the guilty—indeed, more, for one guilty man escaped for a time. Off in the dark Reuben waited, all his nerves raw with anxiety for those who would never come. What to do he did not know, for light and graceful as a whaleboat is when she has her full complement of men on board, she is cumbrous as a barge to be handled by one man at any time without sail; and when to that one man’s task is added the hampering of darkness and ignorance of the way he should go, the hill of difficulty becomes well-nigh insurmountable.
Reuben stood with his feet upon the two cleats, made and fastened for the purpose of raisingthe steersman’s body, one on each side of the stern-sheets, staring with smarting eyes into the smoky, flame-stabbed darkness where the ship lay. Occasionally a great spurt of blood-red fire lit up sea, shore, and sky, and made him tremble for fear of discovery; then a wild chorus of yells and shrieks chilled his blood as he pictured mentally the scene being enacted on board. Strangely enough, he had quite forgotten his own peril, had forgotten how many were the native canoes, how impossible it would be for him to propel that heavy boat one quarter as fast as those amphibious natives could swim after him if once they realised his departure. Ah! The boat sagged heavily to one side, and in over the bluff of the bow climbed a dark figure, gasping as if its chest was being rent asunder. Reuben sprang forward, and found it was the skipper. The two men stared at each other for a moment; then the skipper gurgled out, ‘Oars, pull for life; all dead but me.’ And as he spoke he seized an oar and began to pull. Reuben said no word, but took another, and with the long, splendid stroke of the whaler they propelled the beautiful craft silently seaward, passing the headland safely and unobserved. A light breeze was blowing, and no sooner were they clear of the head than the skipper said, his native gruffness asserting itself even in that terrible hour, ‘Come, lend a hand ’n’ git th’ mast up. She’ll go twice as fast under sail. Git a move on ye.’ It was a heavy task for two men, one of whom was evidently fighting hard against overpowering weakness, but Reuben’s great strength again stood him in good stead, and before ten minutes had elapsed the big sail was bellying bravely forward, and the boat, heading out into the night,was gently bowing to the incoming Pacific swell, seeming eager to escape from those awful shores.
Captain Da Silva took the steer-oar, and with something of his old skill laid the boat on the direct course for the nearest reef-opening, steering by the white curdlings on the reef-tops around, which showed up most conspicuously against the dark of the night. Astern theGrampus, now one vast flame, filled the sky with a lurid glare, and the smoke of her burning came floating over the heads of the fugitives in a long grey cloud. For a space of about half an hour not a word was spoken by either of the men. Then suddenly the skipper said sharply, ‘Who’s this?’ pointing to the motionless figure lying in the stern sheets at his feet as if he had only just seen it.
‘It’s yewr wife, Cap’n,’ answered Rube in the most matter-of-fact manner possible.
‘How ’d she kem here?’ demanded the skipper again.
‘I brought her, sir,’ replied Rube, without the slightest change of voice.
‘Oh, yew did, eh?’ said the skipper faintly. And then stooping and letting go his hold of the oar, he laid his hand upon the unconscious woman and said, ‘’R y’ all right, Pris? I’m drefful sorry t’ have brung ye t’ this; but I kain’t do nothin’ f’r y’ naow. I’m mighty sick man myself.’ And with that word he fell forward in a heap fainting.
This brought Rube aft on the jump, but it was well for him that Priscilla had been roused from her curious stupor and was able to attend to her husband, as the steering of the boat demandedall one man’s attention now.
They were nearing the reef passage, and the swell meeting them was causing the boat to leap as she surmounted its crests, and demanding a very steady hand at the steer-oar to keep her bow on to it. Besides, the channel was barely five boats’ lengths wide, and the foam of the incoming breakers almost obscured it at times. Still Rube steered seaward with a steady hand, and presently with a sigh of relief he saw the gallant craft shoot out from between those walls of white on to the dark, free ocean beyond. Then he was about to try and ship the rudder, which always hangs alongside, when he heard her voice saying:
‘Would you please look at the Captain? I think he has fainted, or something, and his clothes are all sticky, as well as wet.’
Rube answered thickly, ‘Certainly, ma’am, only yew must ’scuse me if I divide my ’tention between him and the boat. She wants a good deal of steering just now, an’ we kain’t afford to linger about here, in case we ain’t far enough from that awful place by sun-up.’
Then Rube stooped down and peered into the skipper’s face, feeling all over his body at the same time and noting the sticky feeling of which she spoke. But he knew no more of what it was than she, and as he had no light he could not investigate. And so he gave all his attention to the navigation of the boat away from those dangerous shores while yet the land wind held, knowing full well that it would die away before dawn and the sea breeze come with the sun. Then if he were not well off the land he would run great risk of being caught by the natives, whose bloodthirst would by this time be unassuageable.
Priscilla, only conscious apparently of one fact, that her husband needed her ministrations, was doing her best under those sadly hampered conditions to give them. That she was tossing about on the open sea in a small boat with only her unconscious husband and one sailor to keep her company did not seem to impress her at all. And yet it would be grievous if anyone reading her story should think of her scornfully as having degenerated under her terrible trials into something very much resembling an imbecile. Oh, no; really her present state of mind had been reached through a series of shocks that would have driven a weaker woman to death or madness, but in her case had providentially resulted in a sort of calm acceptance, without any apparent surprise, of whatever strange experiences should befall her. Mechanically she bathed her husband’s face with her handkerchief dipped in the water overside, and, warned by his stertorous breathing, she loosed his neckband and managed to raise his head on to her lap. And thus she sat quietly enduring the cramping of her limbs, accepting the sharp pains shooting through her body as inevitable, and making no sound.
A hush stole over the dark sea as the wind died away, broken only by the heavy occasional flap of the now useless sail. Without a word Reuben shipped the steer-oar and stepped lightly forward. In a minute or two he had tightly furled the sail and taken an extra pull at the backstays and stay, after deciding that owing to his being single-handed and not sure of his power to elevate it again he must take the risk of being seen through leaving the maststanding. He did not realise how far the swift boat had glided under the gentle stress of the light land breeze during those past hours of darkness. With almost hungry eagerness he waited for the dawn, noted the first faint blush as of surprise tinting the eastern sky, watched with growing feelings of worship tremulous threads of delicate colour running searchingly into the sombre concave of the departing night, saw the flood of palest golden light appear, and then springing into its midst ablaze with glory, majesty, and life, the sun. And the land out of sight. His head sank upon his bosom, and he thanked God for deliverance. Yet, having done so, he could not help a sinking at his heart as he looked aft at those two crouching forms—one so inexpressibly precious to him, the other a sacred charge because—well, because of right and truth and honour. He knew that upon him, under God, depended their lives, although he did not then know how far gone the skipper was. And just one little moan escaped him as he thought how ill-provided they were for a long cruise in those unfrequented seas. Then hope revived again as he felt, because of his ignorance, that he could not sail far in any direction without making land, and land meant food and water, and (but that he did not trouble about) savages, cannibals made, if possible, worse than they were by nature by the utter villainy of white men far more culpable than they.
Then, treading softly as a cat, he stepped over the thwarts aft again, and as he did so Priscilla lifted her wan face to his, saying calmly:
‘Are we safe from pursuit?’
Rube nodded: he could not trust himself to speak.
‘Then, will you see what you can do for Captain Da Silva. I—I am afraid he is badly injured.’
With one glance at the boat fore and aft and a satisfied noting of the little darkness on the water which betokened the coming breeze, Rube obeyed, and stooped to the Captain’s side. As soon as he did so he saw to his horror that the stickiness they had both felt during the darkness was blood; the skipper had been wounded in many places, and his blood, aided by the salt water, had congealed upon him and stopped its own flow, or he would have been dead long before.
‘Ma’am,’ said Rube unsteadily, ‘I’ll dew my best fur the Cap’n, but, as yew k’n see, that isn’t much. He’s badly cut, an’ I daren’t interfere with his hurts ’cause at present they’ve stopped bleedin’, and if I tech him an’ start ’em agen I mayn’t be able to stanch th’ flow then. Pity I got nothin’ t’ give him but a little soak biscuit an’ water. P’raps you’ll take a little yewrself, ma’am, at the same time t’ keep up yewr strength and courage.’
The ghost of a smile flickered for a second about her white lips, and she said simply, ‘Thank you. You are very kind. What shall I call you?’
He answered shortly, with a tightening at the heart, ‘My name’s Rube, ma’am—at least, that’s what I get usually. Call me thet, if ye don’t mind.’
And then he busied himself with the preparation of the simple meal, measuring crumb and drop as if each represented so many minutes of life, and deciding that, as for himself, he could go a muchlonger time yet before encroaching upon the small stock which must suffice for them all. The breeze freshening, he set the sail again, and, hauling the boat’s head as near the wind as she would lie, found that she would make about E.N.E. on the starboard tack—by guess, that is, for there was no compass in the boat. And this course he chose, not because he knew whither it would lead them, but because he saw that it was taking them well away from those accursed isles, of whose very name and whereabouts he was ignorant. And having got the boat so easily trimmed that by lashing the tiller at a certain angle she would steer herself, coming up and falling off just as if a hand was at the helm, he turned his attention again to the skipper and his wife, finding that the former had returned to a reasonable appreciation of his surroundings and was quietly taking the biscuit pap from Priscilla’s fingers. His filmy eyes lighted upon Reuben, and he said in low but clear tones:
‘Ah! yew never gut thet floggin’ I promised ye. Wall, I doan’ know as I’m sorry thet yew missed it. I guess I ben a pretty hard case ever sence I gut a chance t’ be, ’n’ I don’t believe I ever ben sorry fur anything I ever done befo’. I felt mad, but not sorry—no, never. ’N’ I thought I’d go some day jest like that. ’N’ now I kain’t. Pris’ (turning to his wife with sudden energy), ‘I want yew t’ fergive me—I’ve done y’ a power of harm. I ben an awful brute t’ ye. Wut I ben t’ th’ men don’ matter—that’s wut they’re aboard fur—but yew ben good t’ me, ’n’ I ben a devil t’ yew. Naow I’m a-dyin’, ’n’ I don’ care a plunk fer thet, but I’d like y’ t’ know I’m sorry fur wut I done t’ ye. Ez fur this galoot, I don’t know who he is er wut he is, ’n’ ef I a-hed my way withhim he’d a-hed a pretty tough time, but I do b’lieve he ain’t half bad. Kiender soft mebbe fur all he’s so big an’ hefty, but I think he’ll put ye through in shape. An’ ——’ But then the voice suddenly melted into a few unintelligible sounds, and again the skipper’s head sank on to his wife’s lap and he was silent in another swoon. Rube looked at him helplessly for a moment, then, reflecting that the best thing for him would be to concentrate his mind upon the only thing he could do—viz., the handling of the boat—he stepped thoughtfully back to the tiller, and cast his eye first over the boat herself, then all around. She was going sweetly along, unguided, like a creature of intelligence, and as if she needed no human intervention, so, satisfied of this, Rube busied himself in making everything within her as neat and ship-shape as possible. Having done all he could at this, he counted their treasured biscuit, felt the weight of the water supply, and looked inquiringly at Priscilla, holding up the little wooden beaker or piggin with one hand and pointing to the keg with the other. But Priscilla, moistening her parched lips as well as she could, shook her head, giving a meaning glance at the little bucket wherein he had soaked the biscuit of which she and the Captain had been partaking, to show him that there was still some left.
Just as Rube was wondering what he could do next for her comfort, and his own satisfaction, there was a commotion in the water alongside, and with a series of sharp taps against the sides and bottom of the boat, half-a-dozen large flying-fish fell into her in their hurried rush upwards from the onslaught of a big albacore, which went sweeping past with one oftheir late comrades thwartwise in his mouth. In a moment Rube had gathered the welcome little wanderers together and hidden them all out of the sun’s rays but one. This he cleaned with the utmost delicacy and filleted, cutting the fillets into dainty narrow strips. With half-a-dozen of them balanced on his knife-blade, he approached Priscilla, who had been watching him languidly, saying, ‘Here, ma’am, is suthin’ that’ll dew yew and the skipper both good. It’s cool and moist, an’ ef yew shet yew eyes fur a minit yew’ll be surprised haow easy yew can take it. Thousan’s of people prefer it this way t’ cooked. ’N’ I’ll dry some fur ye then, only it ain’t so good fur ye because of its makin’ y’ thirsty, an’ water’s none too plentiful.’ With utmost docility she roused herself, took the tender looking strips, and put one of them to her husband’s cracked lips. His mouth opened mechanically and his jaws moved, but he had no power to swallow, and his breath began to come and go laboriously. Putting one hand under his head, she beckoned Rube with the other, whispering, ‘Is he dying? Can’t youdoanything for him?’
With a fervent petition for aid to do the right thing, for wisdom to see it, Rube stepped to her side and took the Captain’s weight off Priscilla’s arm upon his own. There was, even to a man with as little experience of death as Rube’s, but scanty room to doubt that Captain Da Silva was going to his account. And then, incredible as it may seem to most of us, this simple-minded Christian man, forgetting all else but the pitiable plight of the sufferer before him, actually burst suddenly into earnest prayer that he might be spared—if only for a little while—spared torepent of the evil done and intended. But as he prayed he was conscious of something, he knew not what, driving into his mind the certainty that his prayer was not to be granted. That Ramon Da Silva had done all the direct ill he was to be allowed to do. Rube’s voice ceased, the skipper’s eyes opened, glazed and fixed, his lower jaw dropped heavily, and he was dead. Catching Priscilla’s eyes fixed earnestly upon his face, Reuben said solemnly, ‘He’s dead, ma’am, and the rest is with God.’ ‘May God have mercy upon him now,’ she replied.
Until the evening scarcely another word was spoken by either of them, both busy with their own thoughts. But just before sunset, Rube said questioningly, ‘We kain’t do no good, and may do much harm, by keeping the body any longer: d’ you mind my offering up a prayer an’ committin’ it to th’ deep?’ She answered humbly, ‘Do what you think is right—I am willing. God knows I have every confidence in you.’ So Rube sank upon his knees on the thwart, and with bowed head commended the dead man to the mercy of the Merciful. Then he rose, and with a sudden heave of his great shoulders, lifted the piece of clay; there was a sullen splash, an eddy, and all that was mortal of Ramon Da Silva had disappeared for ever from human sight.
With an unutterable sense of relief Reuben turned to the business of living, and bringing forth his little store of filleted fish and a handful of broken biscuits gently pressed Priscilla to eat. She at once commenced to try, only stipulating that he should also take something, for she felt sure that, since the catastrophe, at any rate, he had not broken his fast.He gravely acceded to her wish and began to eat, but had only taken two or three mouthfuls when he laid down the morsel he was conveying to his lips, put both hands to his face, and, his huge body shaken as with ague, burst into a tempest of sobs. Priscilla watched him in awe-stricken silence, until she, too, moved beyond bearing by such a passion in this quiet, self-possessed man, began to weep. But as soon as she did, Rube, by a tremendous effort, regained command of himself and began in tenderest fashion to speak such comforting words to her as his close acquaintance with the Source of all comfort had given him possession of. But be it noted, neither his consolation nor Priscilla’s distress had any reference to their present desperate condition whatever. That apparently gave them no uneasiness. These tears of Priscilla’s were due to reaction, to self-pity perhaps a little, but principally were an evidence of the passing away of an awful bondage. Such tears as a prisoner might shed on first emerging from a loathsome captivity in an underground dungeon into the blessed light of Heaven—free.
There is no need to enlarge upon the cause of Rube’s breakdown: if it be not palpable, it would be futile to explain.
Now he was torn with a raging conflict between his desires and his fears. Would Priscilla, after all, love him? Dare he make himself known without appearing to take any unmanly advantage of her helplessness, her utter need of some strong arm upon which to lean, whether she loved its owner or not so long as he was kind? Foolish—oh, yes, but quite natural where such faithful love as Rube’s reignsin a man’s heart, allied with such a distrust of self as he possessed. So he sat speaking to Priscilla such things as he found best to say with this backlash of harassing thoughts occupying one corner of his brain, and causing his eyes to shine with almost audible intensity. And presently lifting her head Priscilla’s gaze met his. For a moment she stared spellbound, then gasped, ‘Rube, it’syou, it’sYOU. O God, how good You are to me!’ And she bent towards him. All his fears were forgotten now, all his delicate self-tormenting diffidences vanished like breath-mist from a diamond, and he took her to his broad breast as a mother takes her infant, yearningly, hungrily.
The boat sailed on steadily into the blankness of the horizon, hunger and thirst, and dreadful outlook all forgotten, and in that happy hour each lived a lifetime of perfect joy, feeling that, come what might, the price to pay would not be grudged by them. Then, with a sigh of perfect content, they released one another, and Rube, feeling as if the strength of ten lay in his great frame, the wisdom of a dozen old sea-captains had accumulated in his brain, set about preparing for the night. He felt ready to wrestle with death itself for her as Jacob did with the angel, and with no more fear. And she followed him with her eyes as he busied himself about the boat and made ready their tiny meal. It was so sweet to feel once more the presence of unselfish love ready to do and dare all things for her. If the prospect of that wide sea-plain and their utter loneliness upon it, and the knowledge of their want of food, did for a moment give her a chilly feeling as of the approach of darkness,it was only momentary: one glance again at his bright, brave, calm face dispelled it, and brought instead the glow of perfect happiness—that is, as nearly perfect as a spirit clothed with flesh can feel.
They took their evening morsel of food, and uttered their evening prayers sitting hand in hand like little children, and with as little care or fear for the future as babes would have; they saw the bright sky darken into the violet of the night, while the gentle breeze held steadily and the boat still swept quietly forward to the east. Rube made Priscilla as comfortable as possible, sacrificing the jib’s usefulness for the night in order to protect her from the drenching dew, and as she laid her head down upon his coat rolled up for a pillow she gave a happy little sigh, murmured, ‘Thank you, dear,’ put up her face to be kissed as a tired child would out of its cot, and went instantly to sleep. Rube, noting this with intense satisfaction, composed himself upon the little deck aft, where he could look down upon Priscilla’s form, cast off the tiller, and, sitting with it under his arm, steered the boat steadily by the wind, still making, as nearly as he could judge by the stars, about a N.E. course. So through the night he sat, and dozed and woke alternately, never finding any alteration in the pose of that recumbent figure beneath him, never needing to do aught but just sit still and commune with his own thoughts. Strangely enough, do what he would he could not feel any apprehension for the future. Again and again he endeavoured to depict Priscilla and himself dying of hunger and thirst under the great solemn eye of heaven. Again and again he recalled his experiences in theXiphias’boat when all the bitterness of such a death was actually undergone, and the survivors were literally haled back from the dark entry of the grave. But no answering tremor came. Not even when he thought of his father and mother, those waiting, lonely figures sitting by their cosy but quiet fireside praying for him. Ah—that was it. The effectual, fervent prayer of a righteous man availeth much, and whether he (andshe) were to live or die, the peace which they were enjoying was undoubtedly due to that stream of real prayer ascending continually from the Eddy Homestead for the wanderers on unknown seas.
Therefore, in the morning, as daylight filled the sky, he faced the waking Priscilla with a countenance scarcely less bright. He drew her a bucket of water from overside, and recommended a sluicing of hands, and face, and neck, telling her that for the next half-hour it would be necessary for him to seat himself upon the bow and look steadfastly ahead in case in that clear dawn-light some vessel should be visible. And when such a toilet as she was able to make was completed, a word from her would bring him aft on the jump supposing his vigil were not over. She smiled gratefully, appreciatively; and met him presently, when in response to her call he came leaping aft, with a face so bright and rosy in spite of its thinness that an involuntary exclamation of wonder and admiration burst from him. Then they sat down to their frugal breakfast of water and biscuit—the fish was now too stale to eat, unless they were much more ravenous than at present—and for sauce they had reminiscences, all that Rube could remember on both sides of the blank, and all that shewouldrecall of the doings of her dead husband. Then Rube, interesting Priscilla greatly, produced a hook and line which he had found stowed away in the ‘eyes’ of the boat. Carefully mounting a strongly smelling flying fish upon the hook, he trolled it astern, and in a few minutes succeeded in flinging into the boat a beautiful coryphena, or dolphin as the sailor calls it, of over ten pounds in weight. A portion of its flesh was cut off, and preserved for bait, a portion was carefully prepared for the next meal—they did not mind raw fish now—and the rest cleansed, and cut in strips, was laid in the sun to dry. And then they thanked God, ate another meal, and took courage.
On the fourth morning, although they had caught plenty of fish—for in those prolific seas the deep-sea denizens swarm—they drank their last drop of water. They had husbanded it carefully, and as at the outset there was but little over a gallon, it had lasted well. But even now they did not feel dismayed. Amid their terrible surroundings they were quite, or nearly quite, happy. That same strange assurance enjoyed by Rube had communicated itself to Priscilla, and together they discussed their meeting with the dear old people, and all the wonderments that people so entirely ignorant of what had been happening since their departure might naturally be supposed to entertain. They caught a skip-jack that day, a kind of vivacious mackerel, weighing about five pounds, and almost gaily munched its juicy flesh, which was so grateful to their already parching mouths.
Then, at the close of day, as usual—it seemed as if they had been thus associated for a lifetime—theyprayed, kissed each other good-night, and Priscilla went to sleep, while Rube, as usual, sat erect and dozed. He was suddenly awakened by a great glare of light which dazzled him, proceeding from he knew not where. Next moment a clear voice sounded across the blackness following upon the blaze: ‘Boat ahoy!’ ‘Hallo,’ replied the deep tones of Rube. And then he saw the towering form of a ship, her green light glaring down at him as if in judicial inquiry just overhead. In fact, so close that only by putting his tiller hard over and bringing his boat up in the wind he escaped running into her with a crash. A side ladder was lowered, a couple of agile men glided down ropes into the boat, and in less than ten minutes Rube and Priscilla stood upon the deck of H.M.S.Alcestis, surveying ship, to whose splendid lookout they owed their rescue, and whose crew they had provided with a babblement of talk that was already surging throughout the remotest corners of the ship.
A cabin was immediately found for Priscilla, and the wardroom attendants could not sufficiently show their zeal and readiness to anticipate her every want. Rube, brought before a charming young-looking officer, was interrogated as to the how and why of this miraculous appearance in mid-Pacific in a boat, at night with one woman, but not before he had been offered and had refused a glass of grog and a cigar, and had accepted instead a plate of soup on the condition that some was first given to Priscilla.
So Reuben told his tale to the Captain of the man-o’-war, and whether the sentry at the door had his ear to the keyhole all the while or not I don’t know, but certain it is that almost assoon as Reuben retired for the rest of the night to a comfortable berth, having first visited Priscilla’s cabin and found her supremely happy, his story was the common property of the ship’s company, and he could have had any one of them shed blood, their own or another’s, for him. Of that, of course, there was no need, but anyone who knows the British man-o’-warsman, officer or seaman, needs not to be told that on arrival at Honolulu the paymaster of theAlcestishanded over to Reuben a sum of money sufficient for all reasonable expenses and fare to Vermont. Among thosereasonableexpenses was included the cost of a wedding at the English church, to which over one hundred of theAlcestis’crew invited themselves, and made those proceedings vibrate with their own enthusiasm. I regret to say, though, that after escorting the newly wedded pair on board the mail steamer bound to ’Frisco, and cheering themselves hoarse as she departed, several of those gallant blue-jackets were found so full of spirits, animal and vegetable, that it became necessary for the preservation of the public peace to put them under lock and key, with serious results to themselves.
Reuben and his adoring wife had no more adventures. They were the heroes of the passengers and crew of theGolden Gate, and they had much ado to dodge the wily reporters in the Queen City of the West. Nor were they able to prevent the appearance of their histories (with such extraordinary verbal embellishments as the said reporters deemed it necessary to add) in the flamboyant local newspapers. But in due time they found themselves travelling together the quiet moss-grown paths between Boston and the home farm, and arriving at the door of theEddy Homestead to be received as the latest and best gifts of a loving God to the faithful old couple who had never wavered in the long waiting for them, nor doubted that they would come. Also it seems an anti-climax to record their settling down to a happy, useful, and loving life in the old farm of Priscilla’s youth, kept in readiness for them by Rube’s father against the day of their return.
It was somewhat of a wrench for them to be compelled to make a journey to New Bedford and depose to the circumstances in which theGrampuswas lost, and there always remained a sense of something incomplete in Reuben’s mind about the early days of his departure from New Bedford, and the intervening months before awaking on board theGrampus. But these ripples made no impression upon the steady flow of their stream of happiness. Brother Will came to see them from Chicago, portly and full of dollar-talk, being almost a millionaire, and departed West again, feeling that there was, after all, something which even dollars could not buy, and that Rube and his sister possessed the chief of those things.
Here let us leave the much-tried pair, nestling under the wing of the Loving Father, whose watchful care had been over them through all their perils, being serenely carried onwards to a golden sunset.
Spottiswoode & Co. Ltd., Printers, New-street Square, London.