CHAPTER XVIII

“'We're afloat, we're afloat,And the rover is free.'

“I've shipped aboard of 'most every kind of craft,” he added, “but blessed if I ever expected to be skipper of a carryall!”

But Miss Patience, shut up in the back part of the carriage like a water nymph in her cave, still wept hysterically. So Captain Perez continued his dismal attempt at facetiousness.

“The main thing,” he said, “is to keep her on an even keel. If she teeters to one side, you teeter to t'other. Drat that fox!” he ejaculated. “I thought when Web's place burned we'd had fire enough to last for one spell, but it never rains but it pours.”

“Oh, dear!” sobbed the lady. “Now everything 'll burn up, and they'll blame me for it. Well, I'll be drownded anyway, so I shan't be there to hear 'em. Oh, dear! dear!”

“Oh, don't talk that way. We're driftin' somewheres, but we're spinnin' 'round so I can't tell which way. Judas!” he exclaimed, more soberly, “I remember, now; it ain't but a little past seven o'clock, and the tide's goin' out.”

“Of course it is,” resignedly, “and we'll drift into the breakers in the bay, and that 'll be the end.”

“No, no, I guess not. We ain't dead yit. If I had an oar or somethin' to steer this clipper with, maybe we could git into shoal water. As 'tis, we'll have to manage her the way Ote Wixon used to manage his wife, by lettin' her have her own way.”

They floated in silence for a few moments. Then Miss Patience, who had bravely tried to stifle her sobs, said with chattering teeth, “Perez, I'm pretty nigh froze to death.”

It will be remembered that the Captain had spoken of the weather as being almost as warm as summer. This was a slight exaggeration. It happened, fortunately for the castaways, that this particular night, coming as it did just at the end of the long thaw, was the mildest of the winter and there was no wind, but the air was chill, and the damp fog raw and biting.

“Well, now you mention it,” said Captain Perez, “it IS cold, ain't it? I've a good mind to jump overboard, and try to swim ashore and tow the carryall.”

“Don't you DO it! My land! if YOU should drown what would become of ME?”

It was the tone of this speech, as much as the words, that hit the Captain hard. He himself almost sobbed as he said:

“Pashy, I want you to try to git over on this front seat with me. Then I can put my coat 'round you, and you won't be so cold. Take hold of my hand.”

Miss Patience at first protested that she never could do it in the world, the carriage would upset, and that would be the end. But her companion urged her to try, and at last she did so. It was a risky proceeding, but she reached the front seat somehow, and the carryall still remained right-side-up. Luckily, in the channel between the beaches there was not the slightest semblance of a wave.

Captain Perez pulled off his coat, and wrapped it about his protesting companion. He was obliged to hold it in place, and he found the task rather pleasing.

“Oh, you're SO good!” murmured Miss Patience. “What should I have done without you?”

“Hush! Guess you'd have been better off. You'd never gone after that fox if it hadn't been for me, and there wouldn't have been none of this fuss.”

“Oh, don't say that! You've been so brave. Anyhow, we'll die together, that's a comfort.”

“Pashy,” said Captain Perez solemnly, “it's mighty good to hear you say that.”

It is, perhaps, needless to explain that the “dying” portion of the lady's speech was not that referred to by the Captain; the word “together” was what appealed to him. Miss Patience apparently understood.

“Is it?” she said softly.

“Yes—yes, 'tis.” The arm holding the coat about the lady's shoulder tightened just a little. The Captain had often dreamed of something like this, but never with quite these surroundings. However, he was rapidly becoming oblivious to such trivial details as surroundings.

“Pashy,” he said huskily, “I've been thinkin' of you consider'ble lately. Fact is, I—I—well, I come down to-day a-purpose to ask you somethin'. I know it's a queer place to ask it, and—and I s'pose it's kind of sudden, but—will—will you—Breakers! by mighty!”

The carryall had suddenly begun to rock, and there were streaks of foam about it. Now, it gave a most alarming heave, grounded, swung clear, and tipped yet more.

“We're capsizin',” yelled Perez. “Hang on to me, Pashy!”

But Miss Patience didn't intend to let this, perhaps the final opportunity, slip. As she told her brother afterward, she would have made him say it then if they had been “two fathom under water.”

“Will I what, Perez?” she demanded.

The carryall rose on two wheels and begun to turn over, but the Captain did not notice it. The arms of his heart's desire were about his neck, and he was looking into her eyes.

“Will you marry me?” he gasped.

“Yes,” answered Miss Patience, and they went under together.

The Captain staggered to his feet, and dragged his chosen bride to hers. The ice-cold water reached their shoulders. And, like a flash, as they stood there, came a torrent of rain and a wind that drove the fog before it like smoke. Captain Perez saw the shore, with its silhouetted bushes, only a few yards away. Beyond that, in the blackness, was a light, a flickering blaze, that rose and fell and rose and fell again.

The Captain dragged Miss Patience to the beach.

“Run!” he chattered, “run, or we'll turn into icicles. Come on!”

With his arm about her waist Perez guided his dripping companion, as fast as they could run, toward the light. And as they came nearer to it they saw that it flickered about the blackened ruins of a hen-house and a lath fence.

It was Mrs. Mayo's henhouse, and Mrs. Mayo's fence. Their adventurous journey had ended where it began.

“You see, Eri,” said Captain Perez, as he told his friend the story that night, “that clock in the dining room that I looked at hadn't been goin' for a week; the mainspring was broke. 'Twa'n't seven o'clock, 'twas nearer nine when the fire started, and the tide wa'n't goin' out, 'twas comin' in. I drove into the water too soon, missed the crossin', and we jest drifted back home ag'in. The horse had more sense than I did. We found him in the barn waiting for us.”

Abner Mayo had piled against the back of his barn a great heap of damp seaweed that he intended using in the spring as a fertilizer. The fire had burned until it reached this seaweed and then had gone no further. The rain extinguished the last spark.

“Well, by mighty!” exclaimed Captain Perez for at least the tenth time, as he sat in the kitchen, wrapped in an old ulster of Mr. Mayo's, and toasting his feet in the oven, “if I don't feel like a fool. All that scare and wet for nothin'.”

“Oh, not for nothin', Perez,” said Miss Patience, looking tenderly down into his face.

“Well, no, not for nothin' by a good deal! I've got you by it, and that's everything. But say, Pashy!” and the Captain looked awed by the coincidence, “I went through fire and water to git you!”

Captain Perez made a clean breast of it to Captain Eri when he reached home that night. It was after twelve o'clock, but he routed his friend out of bed to tell him the news and the story. Captain Eri was not as surprised to hear of the engagement as he pretended to be, for he had long ago made up his mind that Perez meant business this time. But the tale of the fire and the voyage in the carryall tickled him immensely, and he rolled back and forth in the rocker and laughed until his side ached.

“I s'pose it does sound kind of ridic'lous,” said the accepted suitor in a rather aggrieved tone, “but it wa'n't ha'f so funny when 'twas goin' on. Fust I thought I'd roast to death, then I thought I'd freeze, and then I thought I'd drown.”

“Perez,” said the panting Eri, “you're a wonder. I'm goin' to tell Sol Bangs 'bout you next time I see him. He'll want you to enter in the races next Fourth of July. We've had tub races and the like of that, but a carryall sailin' match 'll be somethin' new. I'll back you against the town, though. You can count on me.”

“Now, look here, Eri Hedge, if you tell a livin' soul 'bout it, I'll—”

“All right, shipmate, all right; but it's too good to keep. You ought to write a book, one of them kind like Josiah used to read. Call it 'The Carryall Pirate, or The Terror of the Channel,' hey? Gee! you'd be famous! But, say, old man,” he added more seriously, “I'll shake hands with you. I b'lieve you've got a good woman, one that 'll make it smooth sailin' for you the rest of your life. I wish you both luck.”

Captain Perez shook hands very gravely. He was still a little suspicious of his chum's propensity to tease. It did not tend to make him less uneasy when, a little later, Captain Eri opened the parlor door and whispered, “Say, Perez, I've jest thought of some-thin'. What are you goin' to say to M'lissy Busteed? Her heart 'll be broke.”

“Aw, git out!” was the disgusted answer.

“Well, I only mentioned it. Folks have had to pay heavy for breach of promise 'fore now. Good-night.”

Perez manfully told of his engagement at the breakfast table next morning, although he said nothing concerning the rest of his adventures. He was rather taken aback to find that no one seemed greatly surprised. Everyone congratulated him, of course, and it was gratifying to discern the high opinion of the future Mrs. Ryder held by Mrs. Snow and the rest. Captain Jerry solemnly shook hands with him after the meal was over and said, “Perez, you done the right thing. There's nothin' like married life, after all.”

“Then why don't you try it yourself?” was the unexpected question. “Seems to me we'll have to settle that matter of yours pretty soon. I meant to speak to Eri 'bout it 'fore this, but I've had so much on my mind. I will to-night when he comes back from fishin'.”

Captain Jerry made no further remarks, but walked thoughtfully away.

So that evening, when they were together in Captain Jerry's room after supper, Perez, true to his promise, said:

“Eri, it seems to me we've got to do somethin' 'bout Mrs. Snow. She was hired to be housekeeper while John was sick. Now he's dead, and she'll think it's queer if we don't settle that marryin' bus'ness. Ain't that so?”

“Humph!” grunted Captain Jerry. “Perez is in a mighty sweat to git other folks married jest 'cause he's goin' to be. I don't see why she can't keep on bein' housekeeper jest the same as she's always been.”

“Well, I do, and so do you, and you know it. We agreed to the housekeepin' bus'ness jest as a sort of put off. Now we can't put off no longer. Mrs. Snow come down here 'cause we advertised for a wife, and she's been so everlastin' good that I feel 'most ashamed every time I think of it. No use, you've got to ask her to marry you. He has, hasn't he, Eri?”

“Yes,” answered Captain Eri laconically.

The sacrifice squirmed. “I hate to ask,” he said. “Why don't we wait a spell, and let her say somethin' fust?”

“That WOULD be nice, wouldn't it? She's that kind of a woman, ain't she?” sputtered Perez. “No, you bet she ain't! What she'd say would be to give her opinion of us and our manners, and walk out of the house bag and baggage, and I wouldn't blame her for doin' it.”

“P'raps she wouldn't have me. She never said she would.”

“Never said she would! Have you ever asked her? She's had all this time to l'arn to know you in, and I cal'late if she was willin' to think 'bout it 'fore she ever see you, she'd be more willin' now. Ain't that so, Eri?”

And again Captain Eri said shortly, “Yes.”

“I wish you'd mind your own consarns, and give me time,” protested Captain Jerry.

“Time! How much time do you want? Land of Goshen! I should think you'd had time enough. Why—”

“Oh, let up!” snorted the persecuted. “Why don't you git married yourself, and bring Pashy over to keep house? What we started to git in the fust place was jest a wife for one of us that would keep things shipshape, and now—”

The withering look of scorn that Perez bent upon him caused him to hesitate and stop. Captain Perez haughtily marched to the door.

“Eri,” he said, “I ain't goin' to waste my time talkin' to a—a dogfish like him. He ain't wuth it.”

“Hold on, now, Perez!” pleaded the discomfited sacrifice, alarmed at his comrade's threatened desertion. “I was only foolin'. Can't you take a joke? I haven't said I wouldn't do it. I think a heap of Mrs. Snow; it's only that I ain't got the spunk to ask her, that's all.”

“Humph! it don't take much spunk,” replied the successful wooer, forgetful of his own past trepidation.

“Well,” Captain Jerry wriggled and twisted, but saw no loophole. “Well, give me a month to git up my courage in and—”

“A month! A month's ridic'lous; ain't it, Eri”

“Yes.”

“Well, three weeks, then.”

This offer, too, was rejected. Then Captain Jerry held out for a fortnight—for ten days. Finally, it was settled that within one week from that very night he was to offer his heart and hand to the lady from Nantucket. He pledged his solemn word to do it.

“There!” exclaimed the gratified Captain Perez. “That's a good job done. He won't never be sorry for it, will he, Eri?”

And Captain Eri made his fourth contribution to the conversation.

“No,” he said.

Josiah went up to the post-office late in the afternoon of the next day. The “able seaman” was behaving himself remarkably well. He had become a real help to Captain Eri, and the latter said that sailing alone would be doubly hard when his foremast hand went back to school again, which he was to do very shortly, for Josiah meant to accept the Captain's offer, and to try for the Annapolis appointment when the time came.

The boy came back with the mail and an item of news. The mail, a paper only, he handed to Mrs. Snow, and the news he announced at the supper table as follows:

“Mr. Hazeltine's goin' to leave the cable station,” he said.

“Goin' to leave!” repeated the housekeeper, “what for?”

“I don't know, ma'am. All I know is what I heard Mr. Wingate say. He said Mr. Hazeltine was goin' to get through over at the station pretty soon. He said one of the operators told him so.”

“Well, for the land's sake! Did you know anything 'bout it, Eri?”

“Why, yes, a little. I met Hazeltine yesterday, and he told me that some folks out West had made him a pretty good offer, and he didn't know whether to take it or not. Said the salary was good, and the whole thing looked sort of temptin'. He hadn't decided what to do yit. That's all there is to it.”

There was little else talked about during the meal. Captain Perez, Captain Jerry, and Mrs. Snow argued, surmised, and questioned Captain Eri, who said little. Elsie said almost nothing, and went to her room shortly after the dishes were washed.

“Humph!” exclaimed Captain Perez, when they were alone, “I guess your match-makin' scheme's up spout, Jerry.”

And, for a wonder, Captain Jerry did not contradict him.

The weather changed that night, and it grew cold rapidly. In the morning the pump was frozen, and Captain Jerry and Mrs. Snow spent some time and much energy in thawing it out. It was later than usual when the former set out for the schoolhouse. As he was putting on his cap, Elsie suggested that he wait for her, as she had some lessons to prepare, and wanted an hour or so to herself at her desk. So they walked on together under a cloudy sky. The mud in the road was frozen into all sorts of fantastic shapes, and the little puddles had turned to ice.

“That thaw was a weather-breeder, sure enough,” observed Captain Jerry. “We'll git a storm out of this, 'fore we're done.”

“It seems to me,” said Elsie, “that the winter has been a very mild one. From what I had heard I supposed you must have some dreadful gales here, but there has been none so far.”

“We'll git 'em yit. February's jist the time. Git a good no'theaster goin', and you'll think the whole house is comin' down. Nothin' to what they used to have, though, 'cordin' to tell. Cap'n Jonadab Wixon used to swear that his grandfather told him 'bout a gale that blew the hair all off a dog, and then the wind changed of a sudden, and blew it all on again.”

Elsie laughed. “That must have been a blow,” she said.

“Yes. Cap'n Jonadab's somethin' of a blow himself, so he ought to be a good jedge. The outer beach is the place that catches it when there's a gale on. Oh, say! that reminds me. I s'pose you was glad to hear the news last night?”

“What news?”

“Why, that 'bout Mr. Hazeltine's goin' away. You're glad he's goin', of course.”

Miss Preston did not answer immediately. Instead, she turned and looked wonderingly at her companion.

“Why should I be glad, pray?” she asked.

“Why, I don't know. I jest took it for granted you would be. You didn't want him to come and see you, and if he was gone he couldn't come, so—”

“Just a minute, please. What makes you think I didn't want Mr. Hazeltine to call?”

And now it was the Captain's turn to stare and hesitate.

“What makes me think—” he gasped. “Why—you told me so, yourself.”

“Itold you so? I'm certain that I never told you anything of the kind.”

Captain Jerry stood stock-still, and if ever a face expressed complete amazement, it was his.

“Elsie Preston!” he ejaculated, “are you losin' your mem'ry or what? Didn't you pitch into me hot-foot for lettin' him be alone with you? Didn't you give me 'hark from the tomb' for gittin' up and goin' away? Didn't you say his calls was perfect torture to you, and that you had to be decent to him jest out of common politeness? Now, didn't you?”

“Oh, that was it! No, of course I didn't say any such thing.”

“You DIDN'T! Why, I heard you! Land of love! my ears smarted for a week afterward. I ain't had sech a goin' over sence mother used to git at me for goin' in swimmin' on Sunday. And now you say you didn't say it.”

“I didn't. You misunderstood me. I did object to your leaving the room every time he called, and making me appear so ridiculous; and I did say that his visits might be a torture for all that you knew to the contrary, but I certainly didn't say that they WERE.”

“SUFFERIN'! And you ain't glad he stopped comin'?”

The air of complete indifference assumed by the young lady was a triumph.

“Why, of course,” she said, “Mr. Hazeltine is a free agent, and I don't know of any reason why he should be compelled to go where he doesn't wish to go. I enjoyed his society, and I'm sure Captain Eri and Mrs. Snow enjoyed it, too; but it is quite evident that he did not enjoy ours, so I don't see that there need be any more said on the subject.”

Captain Jerry was completely crushed. If the gale described by the redoubtable grandsire of Jonadab Wixon had struck him, he could not have been more upset.

“My! my! my!” he murmured. “And after my beggin' his pardon and all!”

“Begging his pardon? For what?”

“Why, for leavin' you two alone. Of course, after you pitched into me so I see how foolish I'd been actin', and I—honest, I didn't sleep scursely a bit that night thinkin' 'bout it. Thinks I, 'If Elsie feels that way, why, there ain't no doubt that Mr. Hazeltine feels the same.' There wa'n't but one thing to be done. When a man makes a mistake, if he is any kind of a man, he owns up, and does his best to straighten things out. 'Twa'n't easy to do, but duty's duty, and the next time I see Mr. Hazeltine I told him the whole thing, and—”

“You DID!”

“Sartin I did.”

“What did you tell him?”

They had stopped on the sidewalk nearly opposite the post-office. Each was too much engrossed in the conversation to pay any heed to anything else. If the few passersby thought it strange that the schoolmistress should care to loiter out of doors on that cold and disagreeable morning, they said nothing about it. One young man in particular, who, standing just inside the post-office door, was buttoning his overcoat and putting on his gloves, looked earnestly at the pair, but he, too, said nothing.

“Why, I told him,” said Captain Jerry, in reply to the question, “how you didn't like to have me go out of the room when he was there. Course, I told him I didn't mean to do nothin' out of the way. Then he asked me some more questions, and I answered 'em best I could, and—well, I guess that's 'bout all.”

“Did you tell him that I said his visits were a torture?”

“Why—” the Captain shuffled his feet uneasily—“seems to me I said somethin' 'bout it—not jest that, you know, but somethin'. Fact is, I was so muddle-headed and upset that I don't know exactly what I did say. Anyhow, he said 'twas all right, so there ain't nothin' to worry 'bout.”

“Captain Jeremiah Burgess!” exclaimed Elsie. Then she added, “What MUST he think of me?”

“Oh, I'll fix that!” exclaimed the Captain. “I'll see him some time to-day, and I'll tell him you didn't mean it. Why, I declare! Yes, 'tis! There he is, now! Hi! Mr. Hazeltine! Come here a minute.”

A mischievous imp was certainly directing Captain Jerry's movements. Ralph had, almost for the first time since he came to Orham, paid an early morning visit to the office in order to send an important letter in the first mail. The slamming of the door had attracted the Captain's attention and, in response to the hail, Mr. Hazeltine crossed the road.

And then Captain Jerry felt his arm clutched with a grip that meant business, as Miss Preston whispered, “Don't you dare say one word to him about it. Don't you DARE!”

If Ralph had been surprised by the request to join the couple, he was more surprised by the reception he received. Elsie's face was crimson, and as for the Captain, he looked like a man who had suddenly been left standing alone in the middle of a pond covered with very thin ice.

The electrician bowed and shook hands gravely. As no remark seemed to be forthcoming from those who had summoned him, he observed that it was an unpleasant morning. This commonplace reminded him of one somewhat similar that he had made to a supposed Miss “Gusty” Black, and he, too, colored.

“Did you want to speak with me, Captain?” he asked, to cover his confusion.

“Why—why, I did,” stammered poor Captain Jerry, “but—but I don't know's I do now.” Then he realized that this was not exactly complimentary, and added, “That is, I don't know—I don't know's I—Elsie, what was it I was goin' to say to Mr. Hazeltine?”

At another time it is likely that the young lady's quick wit would have helped her out of the difficulty, but now she was too much disturbed.

“I'm sure I don't know,” she said coldly.

“You don't know! Why, yes you do? 'Twas—'twas—” The Captain was frantically grasping at straws. “Why, we was wonderin' why you didn't come to see us nowadays.”

If the Captain had seen the look that Elsie shot at him, as he delivered this brilliant observation, he might have been more, instead of less, uncomfortable. As it was, he felt rather proud of having discovered a way out of the difficulty. But Ralph's embarrassment increased. He hurriedly said something about having been very busy.

“Well,” went on the Captain, intent on making the explanation as plausible as possible, “we've missed you consider'ble. We was sayin' we hoped you wouldn't give us up altogether. Ain't that so, Elsie?”

Miss Preston's foot tapped the sidewalk several times, but she answered, though not effusively:

“Mr. Hazeltine is always welcome, of course.” Then, she added, turning away, “Really, Captain Jerry, I must hurry to school. I have a great deal of work to do before nine o'clock. Good-morning, Mr. Hazeltine.”

The Captain paused long enough to say, “We'll expect you now, so come,” and then hurried after her. He was feeling very well satisfied with himself.

“By mighty! Elsie,” he chuckled, “I got out of that nice, didn't I?”

He received no answer, even when he repeated the remark, and, although he endeavored, as he swept out the schoolroom, to engage the teacher in conversation, her replies were as cold as they were short. The Captain went home in the last stages of dismalness.

That afternoon, when Captain Eri returned from the fishing grounds, he found Captain Jerry waiting for him at the shanty. The humiliated matchmaker sent Josiah up to the grocery store on an errand, and then dragged his friend inside and shut the door.

Captain Eri looked at the woe-begone face with some concern.

“What ails you, Jerry?” he demanded. “Have you—have you spoken to Mrs. Snow 'bout that—that marriage?”

“No, I ain't, Eri, but I'm in a turrible mess, and I don't know why, neither. Seems to me the more I try to do for other folks the wuss off I am; and, instead of gittin' thanks, all I git is blame.”

“Why, what's the matter?”

“Well, now I know you'll think I'm a fool, and 'll jest pester the life out of me. See here, Eri Hedge! If I tell you what I want to, will you promise not to pitch into me, and not to nag and poke fun? If you don't promise I won't tell one single word, no matter what happens.”

So Captain Eri promised, and then Captain Jerry, stammering and hesitating, unburdened his mind of the whole affair, telling of his first reproof by Elsie, his “explanation” to Ralph, and the subsequent developments. Long before he finished, Captain Eri rose and, walking over to the door, stood looking out through the dim pane at the top, while his shoulders shook as if there was a smothered earthquake inside.

“There!” exclaimed the injured matrimonial agent, in conclusion. “There's the whole fool thing, and I 'most wish I'd never seen either of 'em. I thought I did fust-rate this mornin' when I was tryin' to think up somethin' to show why I hailed Hazeltine, but no, Elsie won't hardly speak to me. I wish to goodness you'd tell me what to do.”

Captain Eri turned away from the door. His eyes were watery, and his face was red, but he managed to say:

“Oh, Jerry, Jerry! Your heart's big as a bucket, but fishin' 's more in your line than gittin' folks married to order is, I'm 'fraid. You stay here, and unload them fish in the dory. There ain't many of 'em, and Josiah 'll help when he gits back. I'm goin' out for a few minutes.”

He went down to the beach, climbed into a dory belonging to a neighbor, and Captain Jerry saw him row away in the direction of the cable station.

That evening, after the dishes were washed and the table cleared, there came a knock at the door. Mrs. Snow opened it.

“Why, for goodness sake! Mr. Hazeltine!” she exclaimed. “Come right in. What a stranger you are!”

Ralph entered, shook the snow, which had just begun to fall, from his hat and coat, took off these articles, in response to the hearty invitation of Captain Eri, and shook hands with all present. Elsie's face was an interesting study. Captain Jerry looked scared.

After a few minutes' talk, Captain Eri rose.

“Mrs. Snow,” he said, “come upstairs a little while. I want to talk to you 'bout somethin'. You come, too, Jerry.”

Captain Jerry looked from Elsie to the speaker, and then to Elsie again. But Captain Eri's hand was on his arm, and he rose and went.

Elsie watched this wholesale desertion with amazement. Then the door opened again, and Captain Eri put in his head.

“Elsie,” he said, “I jest want to tell you that this is my doin's, not Jerry's. That's all.” And the door shut.

Elsie faced the caller with astonishment written on her face.

“Mr. Hazeltine,” she said icily, “you may know what this means, but I don't.”

Ralph looked at her and answered solemnly, but with a twinkle in his eye:

“I'm afraid I can guess, Miss Preston. You see Captain Jerry paid Captain Eri a call this afternoon and, as a result, Captain Eri called upon me. Then, as a result of THAT, I—well, I came here.”

The young lady blushed furiously. “What did Captain Eri tell you?” she demanded.

“Just what Captain Jerry told him.”

“And that was?”

“What you told Captain Jerry this morning concerning something that you told him before, I believe.”

There was no answer to this. Miss Preston looked as if she had a mind to run out of the room, then as if she might cry, and finally as if she wanted to laugh.

“I humbly apologize,” said the electrician contritely.

“YOU apologize? For what?”

“For my stupidity in believing that Captain Jerry was to be accepted seriously.”

“You were excusable, certainly. And now I must apologize; also for taking the Captain too seriously.”

“Suppose we pair the apologies as they do the votes in the Senate. Then one will offset the other.”

“I'm afraid that isn't fair, for the blunder was all on my part.”

“Well, if we can't pair apologies, suppose we pair blunders. I don't accept your statement of guilt, mind, but since you are determined to shoulder it, we might put it on one side and on the other we'll put—”

“What?”

“'Gusty' Black.”

And then they both laughed.

A little later Captain Eri knocked at the door.

“Is it safe for a feller to come in?” he asked.

“Well,” said Elsie severely, “I don't know whether talebearers should be admitted or not, but if they do come they must beg pardon for interfering in other people's affairs.”

“Ma'am,” and the Captain made a profound bow, “I hope you'll be so 'kind and condescendin', and stoop so low, and be so bendin'' as to forgive me. And, while I'm 'bout it, I'll apologize for Jerry, too.”

“No, sir,” said the young lady decidedly. “Captain Jerry must apologize for himself. Captain Jeremiah Burgess,” she called up the stairway, “come into court, and answer for your sins.”

And Captain Jerry tremblingly came.

It had begun to snow early in the evening, a light fall at first, but growing heavier every minute, and, as the flakes fell thicker and faster, the wind began to blow, and its force increased steadily. Ralph, hearing the gusts as they swooped about the corners of the house, and the “swish” of the snow as it was thrown against the window panes, several times rose to go, but Captain Eri in each instance urged him to stay a little longer. Finally, the electrician rebelled.

“I should like to stay, Captain,” he said, “but how do you think I am going to get over to the station if this storm grows worse, as it seems to be doing?”

“I don't think,” was the calm reply. “You're goin' to stay here.”

“Well, I guess not.”

“I guess yes. S'pose we're goin' to let you try to row over to the beach a night like this? It's darker 'n a nigger's pocket, and blowin' and snowin' great guns besides. Jest you look out here.”

He rose, beckoned to Ralph, and then opened the outer door. He had to use considerable strength to do this, and a gust of wind and a small avalanche of snow roared in, and sent the lighter articles flying from the table. Elsie gave a little scream, and Mrs. Snow exclaimed, “For the land's sake, shut that door this minute! Everything 'll be soppin' wet.”

The Captain pulled the door shut again, and dropped the hook into the staple.

“Nice night for a pull, ain't it?” he observed, smiling. “No, sir, I've heard it comin' on, and I made up my mind you'd have to stay on dry land for a spell, no matter if all creation wanted you on t'other side.”

Ralph looked troubled. “I ought to be at the station,” he said.

“Maybe so, but you ain't, and you'll have to put up at this boardin' house till mornin'. When it's daylight one of us 'll set you across. Mr. Langley ain't foolish. He won't expect you to-night.”

“Now, Mr. Hazeltine,” said the housekeeper, “you might jest as well give it up fust as last. You KNOW you can't go over to that station jest as well as I do.”

So Ralph did give it up, although rather against his will. There was nothing of importance to be done, but he felt a little like a deserter, nevertheless.

“Perez won't git home neither,” observed Captain Eri. “He's snowed in, too.”

Captain Perez had that afternoon gone down to the Mayo homestead to take tea with Miss Davis.

“Git home! I should think not!” said Mrs. Snow decidedly. “Pashy's got too much sense to let him try it.”

“Well, Elsie,” commented Captain Jerry, “I told you we'd have a no'theaster 'fore the winter was over. I guess there'll be gale enough to satisfy you, now. No school to-morrer.”

“Well, that's settled! Let's be comf'table. Ain't there some of that cider down cellar? Where's the pitcher?” And Captain Eri hurried off to find it.

When bedtime came there was some argument as to where the guest should sleep. Ralph insisted that the haircloth sofa in the parlor was just the thing, but Captain Eri wouldn't hear of it.

“Haircloth's all right to look at,” he said, “but it's the slipperiest stuff that ever was, I cal'late. Every time I set on a haircloth chair I feel's if I was draggin' anchor.”

The cot was declared ineligible, also, and the question was finally settled by Josiah and Captain Eri going upstairs to the room once occupied by John Baxter, while Ralph took that which they vacated.

It was some time before he fell asleep. The gale seemed to be tearing loose the eternal foundations. The house shook and the bed trembled as if a great hand was moving them, and the snow slapped against the windows till it seemed that they must break.

In the morning there was little change in the weather. The snow had turned to a sleet, half rain, that stuck to everything and coated it with ice. The wind was blowing as hard as ever. Captain Eri and Ralph, standing just outside the kitchen door, and in the lee of the barn, paused to watch the storm for a minute before they went down to the beach. At intervals they caught glimpses of the snow-covered roofs of the fish shanties, and the water of the inner bay, black and threatening and scarred with whitecaps; then another gust would come, and they could scarcely see the posts at the yard gate.

“Think you want to go over, do you?” asked the Captain.

“I certainly do, if I can get there.”

“Oh, we can git there all right. I've rowed a dory a good many times when 'twas as bad as this. This ain't no picnic day, though, that's a fact,” he added, as they crossed the yard, and caught the full force of the wind. “Lucky you put on them ileskins.”

Ralph was arrayed in Captain Jerry's “dirty-weather rig,” and although, as Captain Eri said, the garments fitted him “like a shirt on a handspike,” they were very acceptable.

They found the dory covered with snow and half-full of slush, and it took some few minutes to get her into condition. When this was accomplished they hauled her down to the shore, and Captain Eri, standing knee-deep in water, steadied her while Ralph climbed in. Then the Captain tumbled in himself, picked up the oars, and settled down for the pull to the outer beach.

A dory, as everyone acquainted alongshore knows, is the safest of all small craft for use in heavy weather. It is unsinkable for one thing, and, being flat-bottomed, slips over the waves instead of plowing through them. But the high freeboard is a mark for the wind, and to keep a straight course on such a morning as this requires skill, and no small amount of muscle. Ralph, seated in the stern, found himself wondering how on earth his companion managed to row as he did, and steer at the same time. The strokes were short, but there was power in them, and the dory, although moving rather slowly, went doggedly on.

“Let me take her,” shouted Ralph after a while, “you must be tired.”

“Who, me?” Captain Eri laughed. “I could keep this up for a week. There ain't any sea in here. If we was outside now, 'twould be diff'rent, maybe.”

They hit the beach almost exactly at the right spot, a feat which the passenger considered a miracle, but which the Captain seemed to take as a matter of course. They beached and anchored the dory, and, bending almost double as they faced the wind, plowed through the sand to the back door of the station. There was comparatively little snow here on the outer beach—the gale had swept it nearly all away.

Mr. Langley met them as they tramped into the hall. The old gentleman was glad to see his assistant, for he had begun to fear that the latter might have tried to row over during the evening, and met with disaster. As they sat round the stove in his room he said, “We don't need any wrecks inside the beach. We shall have enough outside, I'm afraid. I hear there is one schooner in trouble now.”

“That so?” asked Captain Eri. “Where is she?”

“On the Hog's Back shoal, they think. One of the life-saving crew told McLaughlin that they saw her last night, when the gale first began, trying to make an offing, and that wreckage was coming ashore this morning. Captain Davis was going to try to reach her with the boat, I believe.”

“I should like to be at the life-saving station when they land,” said Ralph. “It would be a new experience for me. I've seen the crew drill often enough, but I have never seen them actually at work.”

“What d'you say if we go down to the station?” asked the Captain. “That is, if Mr. Langley here can spare you.”

“Oh, I can spare him,” said the superintendent. “There is nothing of importance to be done here just now. But it will be a terrible walk down the beach this morning.”

“Wind 'll be at our backs, and we're rigged for it, too. What d'you say, Mr. Hazeltine?”

Ralph was only too glad of the opportunity to see, at least, the finish of a rescuing expedition, and he said so. So they got into the oilskins again, pulled their “sou'westers” down over their ears, and started on the tramp to the life-saving station.

The electrician is not likely to forget that walk. The wind was, as the Captain said, at their backs, but it whistled in from the sea with terrific strength, and carried the sleet with it. It deluged them with water, and plastered them with flying seaweed and ice. The wet sand came in showers like hail, and beat against their shoulders until they felt the sting, even through their clothes. Toward the bay was nothing but gray mist, streaked with rain and sleet; toward the sea was the same mist, flying with the wind over such a huddle of tossing green and white as Ralph had never seen. The surf poured in in rollers that leaped over each other's humped backs in their savage energy to get at the shore, which trembled as they beat upon it. The ripples from one wave had not time to flow back before those of the next came threshing in. Great blobs of foam shot down the strand like wild birds, and the gurgle and splash and roar were terrific.

They walked as near the water line as they dared, because the sand was harder there. Captain Eri went ahead, hands in his pockets and head down. Ralph followed, sometimes watching his companion, but oftener gazing at the sea. At intervals there would be a lull, as if the storm giant had paused for breath, and they could see for half a mile over the crazy water; then the next gust would pull the curtain down again, and a whirl of rain and sleet would shut them in. Conversation meant only a series of shrieks and they gave it up.

At length the Captain turned, grinned pleasantly, while the rain drops splashed on his nose, and waved one arm. Ralph looked and saw ahead of them the clustered buildings of the life-saving station. And he was glad to see them.

“Whew!” puffed Captain Eri as they opened the door. “Nice mornin' for ducks. Hey, Luther!” he shouted, “wake up here; you've got callers.”

They heard footsteps in the next room, the door opened, and in came—not Luther Davis, but Captain Perez.

“Why, Eri!” he exclaimed amazedly.

“For the land's sake, Perez! What are you doin' here?”

“What are YOU doin' here, I should say. How d'you do, Mr. Hazeltine?”

Captain Eri pushed back his “sou'wester,” and strolled over to the stove. Ralph followed suit.

“Well, Perez,” said the former, extending his hands over the fire, “it's easy enough to tell you why we're here. We heard there was a wreck.”

“There is. She's a schooner, and she's off there on the Hog's Back. Luther and the crew put off to her more 'n two hours ago, and I'm gittin' worried.”

Then Perez went on to explain that, because of the storm, he had been persuaded to stay at Mrs. Mayo's all night; that Captain Davis had been over for a moment that evening on an errand, and had said that the schooner had been sighted and that, as the northeaster was coming on, she was almost certain to get into trouble; that he, Perez, had rowed over the first thing in the morning to get the news, and had been just in time to see the launching of the lifeboat, as the crew put off to the schooner.

“There ain't nothin' to worry 'bout,” observed Captain Eri. “It's no slouch of a pull off to the Hog's Back this weather, and besides, I'd trust Lute Davis anywhere on salt water.”

“Yes, I know,” replied the unconvinced Captain Perez, “but he ought to have been back afore this. There was a kind of let-up in the storm jest afore I got here, and they see her fast on the shoal with the crew in the riggin'. Luther took the small boat 'cause he thought he could handle her better, and that's what's worryin' me; I'm 'fraid she's overloaded. I was jest thinkin' of goin' out on the p'int to see if I could see anything of 'em when you folks come.”

“Well, go ahead. We'll go with you, if Mr. Hazeltine's got any of the chill out of him.”

Ralph was feeling warm by this time and, after Perez had put on his coat and hat, they went out once more into the gale. The point of which Perez had spoken was a wedge-shaped sand ridge that, thrown up by the waves and tide, thrust itself out from the beach some few hundred yards below the station. They reached its tip, and stood there in the very midst of the storm, waiting for the lulls, now more frequent, and scanning the tumbling water for the returning lifeboat.

“Schooner's layin' right over there,” shouted Captain Perez in Ralph's ear, pointing off into the mist. “'Bout a mile off shore, I cal'late. Wicked place, the Hog's Back is, too.”

“Wind's lettin' up a little mite,” bellowed Captain Eri. “We've had the wust of it, I guess. There ain't so much—”

He did not finish the sentence. The curtain of sleet parted, leaving a quarter-mile-long lane, through which they could see the frothing ridges racing one after the other, endlessly. And across this lane, silent and swift, like a moving picture on a screen, drifted a white turtleback with black dots clinging to it. It was in sight not more than a half minute, then the lane closed again, as the rain lashed their faces.

Captain Perez gasped, and clutched the electrician by the arm.

“Godfrey mighty!” he exclaimed.

“What was it?” shouted Ralph. “What was it, Captain Eri?”

But Captain Eri did not answer. He had turned, and was running at full speed back to the beach. When they came up they found him straining at the side of the dory that Luther Davis used in tending his lobster pots. The boat, turned bottom up, lay high above tide mark in the little cove behind the point.

“Quick, now!” shouted the Captain, in a tone Ralph had never heard him use before. “Over with her! Lively!”

They obeyed him without question. As the dory settled right side up two heavy oars, that had been secured by being thrust under the seats, fell back with a clatter.

“What was it, Captain?” shouted Ralph.

“The lifeboat upset. How many did you make out hangin' onto her, Perez? Five, seemed to me.”

“Four, I thought. Eri, you ain't goin' to try to reach her with this dory? You couldn't do it. You'll only be drownded yourself. My Lord!” he moaned, wringing his hands, “what 'll Pashy do?”

“Catch a-holt now,” commanded Captain Eri. “Down to the shore with her! Now!”

They dragged the dory to the water's edge with one rush. Then Eri hurriedly thrust in the tholepins. Perez protested again.

“Eri,” he said, “it ain't no use. She won't live to git through the breakers.”

His friend answered without looking up. “Do you s'pose,” he said, “that I'm goin' to let Lute Davis and them other fellers drown without makin' a try for 'em? Push off when I tell you to.”

“Then you let me go instead of you.”

“Don't talk foolish. You've got Pashy to look after. Ready now!”

But Ralph Hazeltine intervened.

“I'm going myself,” he said firmly, putting one foot over the gunwale. “I'm a younger man than either of you, and I'm used to a boat. I mean it. I'm, going.”

Captain Eri looked at the electrician's face; he saw nothing but determination there.

“We'll all go,” he said suddenly. “Mr. Hazeltine, run as fast as the Lord 'll let you back to the station and git another set of oars. Hurry!”

Without answering, the young man sprang up the beach and ran toward the buildings. The moment that he was inside Captain Eri leaped into the dory.

“Push off, Perez!” he commanded. “That young feller's got a life to live.”

“You don't go without me,” asserted Perez stoutly.

“All right! Push off, and then jump in.”

Captain Perez attempted to obey. He waded into the water and gave the dory a push, but, just as he was about to scramble in, he received a shove that sent him backwards.

“Your job's takin' care of Pashy!” roared Captain Eri.

Perez scrambled to his feet, but the dory was already half-way across the little patch of comparatively smooth water in the cove. As he looked he saw it enter the first line of breakers, rise amid a shower of foam, poise on the crest, and slip over. The second line of roaring waves came surging on, higher and more threatening than the first. Captain Eri glanced over his shoulder, turned the dory's bow toward them and waited. They broke, and, as they did so, the boat shot forward into the whirlpool of froth. Then the sleet came pouring down and shut everything from sight.

When Ralph came hurrying to the beach, bearing the oars, he found Captain Perez alone.

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