"Jesus! and shall it ever beA mortal man ashamed of Thee?"
"Jesus! and shall it ever beA mortal man ashamed of Thee?"
The others joined in, filling the air with sweet melody.
Prayers and other hymns followed till the hour set apart for the service had more than passed away.
The next morning proved bright and fair, as lovely a day as one could desire; no cloud in the sky save the light fleecy ones that are not the presage of a storm. Our friends in the cottages gathered about their breakfast tables in rare good spirits, in spite of the fact that Walter was to leave them that day, by the evening boat, for his first experience of life away from home and mother.
The lad appeared in high spirits, partly real but partly only assumed, to hide the sinking of heart that at times oppressed him at the thought of so long a separation from her who had been almost all the world to him from babyhood till now, when he began to consider himself on the very verge of manhood.
She saw it if no one else did, and her tender mother heart ached for her "baby boy." For herself too, that she must do without him and his loving caresses, for months, and know that he was exposed to many a trial and temptation from which mother love could not shield him. But oh, there was comfort in the thought thather best Friend was his also, and would still be as near as ever to both mother and son; still to them, as to all His children, the Hearer and Answerer of prayer.
"Well, what is to be done to-day?" asked Rosie, when the meal had fairly begun.
"I propose a visit to 'Tonomy Hill' for one thing," said Captain Raymond, addressing his remark to the company in general.
"Where is that, and what particular claim has it upon our attention?" queried Mr. Dinsmore in return.
"It is about a mile and a half north of Newport," replied the captain. "Tonomy is an abbreviation of Miantonomoh, the name of a Narragansett sachem whose seat it was in early times. It is a rocky eminence and the commanding site of a small fort or redoubt during the Revolutionary war. It is said to be the highest land upon the island except Quaker Hill, which you will remember we saw toward the northern end as we sailed round on Saturday."
"Ah, yes! where the battle was fought between the British and our forces under Greene and Sullivan."
"Is there anything to be seen there—on Tonomy Hill—but the ruin of the little fortification?" asked Rosie.
"Yes," replied the captain. "The hill is 270 feet above the bay, and from it we may obtain a fine view on all sides. On the south and west the city and harbor of Newport, and many islands in the harbor with the remains of fortifications—Canonicut, with its ruined fort, for one. Ah, I am forgetting that you saw all from theDolphinthe other day! Still we could not from there take in the whole view at once as we may from the hill top.
"Looking oceanward beyond the city, we can see Fort Adams; and, with a spy-glass, the dim outline of Block Island; beyond it in the Atlantic, perhaps, if your eyes are good, a faint view, a little more to the eastward, of the nearest shore of Martha's Vineyard; also of some of the islands in Buzzard's Bay.
"On the east can be seen Warren and Bristol, and the top of Mount Hope, the throne of King Philip. To the north there will be a good view of Narragansett Bay and the towns along its shores."
"Indeed, captain, you make it seem very well worth while to go there," observed Mrs. Dinsmore.
"I think that when we get there and look about and around, upon all that is to be seen, you will be still better convinced of it," returned the captain. "In addition to what Ihave already mentioned we can look upon a large part of the cultivated fields of this island, and find them rich in natural productions as well as in historical associations."
"Oh, let us go by all means!" exclaimed Violet. "Perhaps our little folks might not care for it, or might find the climb up the hill too fatiguing, but they can be left in the yacht or carriage, whichever the trip is made in."
"Oh, mamma!" exclaimed little Elsie, "I should very much rather go up that hill with the rest of you, if you will only let me!"
"Well, dear, I should like to let you do as you prefer, but, of course, it must be just as your papa says," replied Violet, smiling down affectionately into the eager, pleading little face.
"And papa says you may go if you wish to," said the captain, in his kind, pleasant tones.
"Me too, papa?" asked Ned eagerly.
"Yes, you too, if you wish to, son," replied his father. "I think even my baby boy will enjoy the drive, the climb up the hill, and the lovely view from its top."
"We are going to drive, are we, papa?" queried Lucilla.
"Yes; I have ordered carriages from Newport to be here by nine o'clock; so that all who wish can drive. But should anyone preferthe yacht it is at their service. Also, it will be welcome to any who desire a sail afterward."
After a little more talk, first among themselves, then along with the occupants of the other cottage, it was decided that all would take the drive to Tonomy Hill and see the view; then some would drive elsewhere, others would board the yacht and have a sail.
The engaged vehicles were already at hand, and in a few minutes the entire company of adults and children were on the way to Tonomy Hill.
All, old and young, greatly enjoyed the drive, and the captain was plied with questions about this object and that. The windmills particularly interested little Elsie and Ned. Their father explained what they were, and why there were so many of them, that they were made necessary by the absence of streams sufficiently strong to turn water-wheels, and, of one standing at the junction of the main road and the lane leading to the Hill, he remarked: "That is an old, old one, built years before the Revolutionary War. At the time of the war it and the dwelling-house near by were owned by a man named Hubbard. He was one of the many Americans whom Prescott turned out of their houses, to take shelter in barns and other miserable abiding places, while hissoldiers took possession of their comfortable homes."
"What a shame!" exclaimed Ned. "Papa, I'm glad we don't have those bad fellows here now."
"So am I," replied his father. "We ought to thank God every day for making us so free, and giving us this dear land of our own. I hope my boy will always remember to do so."
Reaching the top of the hill, they found the view from it all that the captain had said. Calling attention to it, now on this side, now on that, he named the different towns and other objects worthy of particular attention. Mount Hope was one, and again he spoke of it as the former home of King Philip.
"Papa," said Elsie, "who was he? I thought we never had any king in our country."
"The Indians used to have them, and he was king of one of their tribes," was the reply.
"Is there a story about him, papa?" she asked.
"Yes. Would you like to hear it?"
"Oh, yes, sir! yes, indeed! you know I always like stories."
"Yes; even if they are rather sad; as this one is. But if you wish, I will tell you a little about it now; perhaps more at another time."
"Oh, tell it all, if you please, Brother Levis," said Rosie. "I don't believe any one of us would object to hearing it."
Several of the others joined in the request, and the captain, ever ready to oblige, began at once.
"His original name was Metacomet, but he is frequently spoken of as King Philip and also as Pometacom. His father was Massasoit, whose dominions extended from this Narragansett Bay to Massachusetts. Massasoit took two of his sons, Metacomet and Wamsutta, to Plymouth and asked that English names might be given them. His request was granted, one being called Philip and the other Alexander.
"Upon the death of the father, Alexander became chief in his stead, but soon died suddenly, of poison, it was supposed, and Philip became chief or king in his stead. He was a bright, enterprising man; sagacious, brave, and generous. He soon perceived that his people were being robbed by the whites, who took possession of the best lands, and killed off the game and the fish upon which the Indians had been used to subsist.
"Philip's tribe was known as the Wampanoags, or Pokanokets, and their principal village was there upon Mount Hope. They,and other tribes as well, felt that they had been greatly injured by the whites, and planned an offensive alliance against them.
"Philip began his war preparations by sending the women and children of the tribe away from Mount Hope to the Narragansetts for protection. Then he warned some of the whites with whom he was friendly of the coming storm, that they might seek places of safety, and, when they were gone, bade his followers swear eternal hostility to the whites.
"A dreadful war followed, beginning on the 24th of June, 1675, and lasting for more than a year. The whites suffered a great deal, but the Indians still more. Particularly the Narragansetts, who were treated with great cruelty because they had given shelter to the Wampanoags and their families.
"They had a fort on an elevation of three or four acres surrounded by a swamp, studded with brambles and thick underbrush. There were three thousand Indians in it—mostly women and children. The whites surprised them, burned their palisades and straw-covered wigwams, and the poor creatures were burned, suffocated, butchered, frozen, or drowned. Six hundred warriors and a thousand women and children were killed, and all the winter provision of the tribe destroyed. Their chief,Canonchet, escaped then, but was captured and killed the next summer.
"It was on the 12th of the next August that a renegade Indian guided a large party of white men to the camp of the Wampanoags. The Indians were asleep, King Philip among them. After the first shot or two he woke, sprang to his feet, gun in hand, and tried to escape, but, as he stumbled and fell in the mire, was shot dead by a treacherous Indian. His death ended the war."
"Poor fellow!" sighed Grace. "He was certainly treated with great injustice and cruelty. I don't see how the whites could be so blind to the fact that the Indians had the best right to this country, and that it was wicked to rob them of their lands."
"Self-interest is apt to have a very blinding influence," said her father. "And I am afraid we must acknowledge that the whites were the first aggressors, in their grasping seizure of so much of the land of which the Indians were the original and rightful possessors."
All having now looked their fill, they returned to their carriages and drove to other points of interest, one of them Whitehall, the old residence of Bishop Berkeley. It was a place that all cared to see, especially a room in it formerly occupied by the dean, where was a fireplace,ornamented with Dutch tiles, placed there by the dean himself.
"Oh, how old they must be!" exclaimed Grace.
"Yes, not much, if at all, under two hundred years old," said Walter. "It sometimes seems odd how much longer things may last than people."
"In this world, you mean," said his grandfather; "but do not forget that man is immortal, and must live somewhere to all eternity."
"And Bishop Berkeley is no doubt spending his eternity in a far lovelier paradise than that with which he was familiar in this world," remarked Mrs. Travilla.
"Yes, indeed! 'Blessed are the dead who die in the Lord,'" quoted Evelyn softly, thinking of the dear father who had left her for the better land years ago.
Dinner was ready to be put upon the table when the party reached again their temporary home, and their long drive had given each one an appetite that made the meal most enjoyable. They rested upon the porches for a short time after leaving the table, then set out for a walk to the beach, Walter at his mother's side, Violet, the captain, and their two little ones near at hand. These were at some distance in the rear of the young girls, who had started for the beach a few minutes earlier.
"Mother," said Walter, "I should like very much to see that dear old lady Cousin Molly talks about; also the old Revolutionary house she lives in. Do you think we might call there without seeming to intrude?"
"Really I do not know," replied Mrs. Travilla. "If Molly were only here she could judge better than I."
"Perhaps she is there," suggested Walter. "I noticed that she started a little ahead of the girls."
"So she did," said Violet, overhearing theirtalk, "and I think she is probably there now, for she was telling me last evening that she felt anxious that you, Walter, should see her dear old lady before leaving to-night. Ah! and yonder they both are at the gate of the house now."
"Then I would suggest that you three hasten on, leaving me to follow more slowly with the children. It would hardly do to overwhelm the old lady with so large a company at once," said the captain, and they promptly carried out his suggestion. Mrs. Barker and Molly were standing by the front gate chatting as they came up.
"Ah, here they are, Mrs. Barker!" said Molly; "my cousins, Mrs. Travilla, her daughter, Mrs. Raymond, and her son Walter. He is the lad I was telling you of, who starts for college to-night, and was very desirous to see you and your revolutionary house before going."
"And to hear all you can tell me about its experiences in those days, Mrs. Barker, if you will be so kind," added Walter, with a polite bow and his most insinuating smile.
"I shall be happy to tell and show all I can to you and your mother and sister," replied the old lady, leading the way toward the house, her guests following.
She took them over the greater part of it, telling them what rooms had been occupied by the Hessians, and what by the family while the unwelcome intruders were there. They were much interested in all she told them, and admired her housekeeping, everything being in beautiful order. She told them the Mr. Barker of those days was a true patriot, in fact, a spy working for the American cause, and when their call was finished and they were taking their departure, she went with them to the gate, and pointing out a ledge of rock on the farther side of the valley, beyond the cottages they were occupying, told them that in revolutionary times that was a part of the large tract of land owned by Isaac Barker; that, in those days, instead of the stone wall now running along its edge overlooking the water, there was a rail fence; and that Isaac Barker was in the habit of signalling the patriot troops encamped on an island opposite, whenever there was an important item of news for them, and that he did so by alterations in the fence, made under his supervision by the unsuspecting Hessians.
"Oh, that was good!" cried Walter; "but did the British never catch him at it?"
"No, never," she replied. "If they had, his life would not have been worth much."
"You must think a great deal of this old house," said Walter, turning and looking it over with admiring eyes. "If it were mine I wouldn't give it for any of the grand palaces built in these later days."
"Nor would I," she said. "Come and see it again; it and me; if you care to do so."
"Thank you; I should enjoy doing so, but I leave to-night for college."
"Ah? I am glad for you; for a good education is worth more than money or almost any other earthly thing."
"So I think, because it will enable me, or anyone who has it, to be more useful in the world."
"That is a right feeling," she said; then turning to the ladies gave them a warm invitation to call again any day, as they passed on their way to the beach.
"Thank you, Mrs. Barker," said Grandma Elsie. "It is quite likely we may do so, for we have greatly enjoyed our chat with you."
"And will be glad to have you return our call, if you can conveniently do so, while we linger in your neighborhood," added Violet.
Arrived at the beach, Violet joined her husband and the young folks there, but her mother and Walter passed on up the cliff, the lad saying laughingly that he wanted another peepinto Purgatory before leaving the neighborhood; but, as his mother well understood, a bit of private chat with her was the chief object he had in view.
They took a peep into the chasm, then wandered away a little and sat down side by side upon a ledge of rock. Looking at him with her own loving smile, she laid her hand in his. He clasped it tightly, while unbidden tears sprang to his eyes.
"Mother," he said low and tremulously, "my own dear mother! You are almost all the world to me. I think no other fellow had so dear and sweet a mother as mine. I don't know how I shall ever stand it to pass weeks and months without a sight of your dear face."
"Ah, you will soon learn to do without me," she said, between a sigh and a smile. "But I do not believe my dear baby boy will ever cease to love his mother, or to try to make her happy by a faithful attendance to all his duties. But oh, above all, try to please and honor the God of your fathers whose servant you profess to be. Begin every day with an earnest supplication for strength to perform every duty and resist every temptation."
"It is my fixed purpose to do so, mother dear, and I know you will be ever helping me with your prayers," he answered earnestly."Oh, what a blessing it is to have a praying, Christian mother! And I know that you will write to me often, and that your dear letters will be a great help to me in my efforts to resist temptation and keep in the strait and narrow path."
"I hope so," she said; "also that my dear youngest son will never learn to conceal things from his mother, but will write me freely of all that concerns him, never doubting my love or my interest in it all, for his dear sake."
"Doubt your dear love, mother? No, never for one moment! Oh, it will be hard to part from you to-day, even though I hope to see you again before you go home!"
"Yes, I expect to give you a call at the college, to see that my dear son is made as comfortable as possible, and to take a view of his room and all his surroundings, that I may be able to picture him in my mind's eye at his studies, recitations, and sports."
"Just as I can see my loved mother in every room of the dear home at Ion, or the other one at Viamede, should you go there at any time without me," he returned, making a determined effort to speak lightly. "It seems a little hard to start off without you, mother; but as Cousin Cyril has kindly promised to go with me, I shall do very well, especially with theknowledge that I am to see you again in a few days."
"Yes," she said, "and you will like those New Jersey relatives of his, who are more distantly related to us, when you become acquainted with them, as I hope you will at some not very distant day."
"The uncle he is expecting to visit there is a brother of Cousin Annis, is he not?" asked Walter.
"Yes."
"Then I should think she and her husband, Cousin Ronald, would go with Cousin Cyril."
"I think they will follow a few days hence, when we start for home," she answered.
Just at that moment they were startled by a wild shriek, as of one in great peril or affright, instantly followed by a sound as of a heavy body plunging into the water. Both started to their feet, Walter exclaiming, "Oh, mother! someone must have fallen into that dreadful deep chasm they call Purgatory! Oh, what can we do?"
"Nothing," she answered, with a laugh that sounded slightly hysterical. "See! Cousin Ronald and several of the others have come up the hill unnoticed by us."
"Oh! I think it was rather too bad for himto startle you so, mamma dear!" exclaimed Walter.
"Yes, I must acknowledge that it was," returned Mr. Lilburn, who had now drawn near enough to overhear the remark. "Pardon me, Cousin Elsie; I really did not intend to give you such a fright; for I deemed it likely you would know at once that it was I and none other."
"As I probably should, had I been aware of your vicinity," she returned, in a pleasant tone; "but my boy and I were so engrossed with our talk that we did not perceive your approach. I think Walter and I must now go back to the cottage and see to the packing of his trunk."
"Cannot I do that, mamma?" queried Violet.
"Thank you, daughter, I have no doubt you could, but I have a fancy for the job myself," was the pleasant-toned reply. "Besides, your place is with your husband and little ones, who, I think, would find it agreeable and beneficial to remain here on the beach for another hour or so."
"I haven't unpacked much since we came here, mother," remarked Walter, as they walked away together, "so that it will not be a long job to get my things in my trunk, but Iam glad you came away so early with me, as it gives us time and opportunity for another private chat."
"Yes, my dear boy, that was my principal object in proposing this early return, but I hope for many another pleasant chat with my dear youngest son in the years to come," his mother responded cheerfully.
"I haven't seen quite all the places in and about Newport or Middletown that I should take an interest in examining," remarked Walter. "But I presume I may hope to come again some day?"
"Oh, yes; possibly a good many times in the course of a few years; though there are many other places in our great, beautiful country that are quite as well worth visiting, and far better worth seeing than some noted resorts in Europe. I want my sons and daughters to appreciate their own country," she went on, her sweet face lighting with enthusiasm, "with all that is beautiful and valuable in it, as well as its free institutions—religious, civil, and political."
"I think I do, mamma," he said, with a smile. "You have brought up all your children to admire and love their own land, believing it the best and greatest country in all the wide world."
"Yes, and yet, alas! there is a vast deal of wickedness in it," she sighed; "wickedness, error, superstition, and vice, which we should make it our life work to try to root out."
"As I truly intend to, mamma. But are not most of the ignorant and vicious those who have come in from foreign lands?"
"A very great many—a very large majority no doubt are," she answered; "and yet there are many ignorant and vicious ones who are native born; not a few of them being the children of natives. Some of the Tories of revolutionary times were even worse than savages. 'The heart is deceitful above all things and desperately wicked,' applies to the whole of Adam's fallen race, and each one of us needs to pray, 'Create in me a clean heart, O God; and renew a right spirit within me.'"
"I feel that I do, mother, but you have always seemed to me so perfect that it is difficult to realize that it can be so with you," said the lad, turning upon her eyes filled with ardent love and admiration.
"That is doubtless because your eyes are blinded by filial love, my dear boy," she returned, with her sweet and loving smile.
They presently reached the house, and Walter set about his packing, under his mother's supervision, which made the work seem but apleasant pastime. It did not take long and, seated together in one of the porches, they had time before the return of the others for a confidential chat, such as Walter dearly loved to have with his mother.
Then came the call to supper, and the meal was scarcely over when the hack was announced as at the door; there were hasty leave-takings, his mother's the last for Walter. She strained him to her heart with some whispered words of love, while he embraced her with ardent affection, and in a moment more he was in the hack, with Mr. Keith by his side, and they were driving rapidly away toward the city to take the night train for New York.
The shades of evening had begun to fall. A cool breeze made the brightly lighted parlor more attractive than the porches, and there the older ones gathered, while the mothers saw their weary little ones to bed. The gentlemen had their newspapers, Mrs. Dinsmore and Mrs. Travilla their fancy work, while the four young girls, in a group by themselves, chatted and laughed together, discussing the sights and scenes through which they had passed that day, and the bits of history connected with them.
The captain presently threw aside his paper, and taking a vacant seat on the sofa beside his daughter Grace, asked in tender tones, as he passed an arm about her and drew her close, if she felt very weary from the day's exertions.
"Not so very, papa dear," she answered, laying her head on his shoulder and smiling up into the eyes bent so lovingly upon her. "I think I never had a better time. Have we been to all the places of interest now?"
"Not quite all," he replied; "there are afew others to which we may take pleasant little jaunts in the week or so we expect to tarry here."
"Vaucluse for one, I should say," remarked Mr. Embury, laying aside his paper and joining in the talk.
"Where is that?" asked Mrs. Dinsmore.
"Over on the shore of the eastern bay, and about six miles out from Newport. It is a noted country seat, at present unoccupied except in small part by a caretaker and his wife. It has a very neglected look, but is still well worth seeing, I have been told. But here comes my Molly with a manuscript in her hand. Something to read to us, I suppose. Is it, my dear?"
"Yes," she said, with a smile; "provided you all wish to hear it. A story of the shipPalatinefrom Holland, which struck on Sandy Point of this island early in the last century. I have used the facts as far as they could be obtained, and drawn upon my imagination for the rest. If all would like to hear it, I shall be glad to have your opinions and criticisms before offering it for publication."
"Suppose you put it to vote, my dear," suggested her husband. "We are all here now except the little folks, who have gone to their beds," he added, glancing at Isadore and Violet,who had come into the room just in time to hear Molly's last sentence.
"I shall be glad tohearit, Molly. I always have enjoyed such of your productions as have come under my notice," said Violet, in a lively tone, as she took the seat her husband had hastened to offer.
"And I can echo those sentiments," added Isadore lightly, taking possession of an easy chair gallantly drawn forward for her by her Uncle Dinsmore.
Thus encouraged, Mrs. Embury began at once.
"Story of the shipPalatine," she read.
"Some time in the early years of the last century, a ship named thePalatineleft Holland for America, bearing a large number of emigrants, whose destination was the then colony of Pennsylvania, where they intended to buy land and settle; and for that reason they were carrying with them all their earthly possessions—clothing, furniture, and money; of which some had a good deal, others only a little.
"Among the wealthier ones was Herr Adolphus Follen, with his wife Margaret, his daughters Katrina and Gretchen, and his son Karl. Also they had with them an elderly woman, Lisa Kuntz, who had lived with theFollens ever since their marriage, and acted as nurse to each of their children in turn. She had no near kin, and being much attached to the family in which she had made her home for so many years, had decided to accompany them to the new world in spite of her fears of Indians and wild animals.
"As the good shipPalatinesailed slowly out of port, all these, with many of their fellow-passengers, stood upon her deck gazing sadly, and not a few with flowing tears, upon the fast-receding shores of their native land. Ah, how much bitterer would have been their grief, could they have foreseen the sufferings that fateful voyage held in store for them! Though they little suspected it at the time, they had fallen into the hands of men so full of the love of money, so ready to do the most dastardly deeds in order to secure it, that they were no better than the worst of cut-throats and murderers.
"The emigrants had not brought a store of provisions for the voyage, because, according to the agreement, these were to be purchased of the captain and his officers. But scarcely had they cleared the coast and stood well out to sea when they were struck with astonishment and dismay at the enormous sums asked for the merest necessaries of life: 20 guilders for a cup of water, 50 rix dollars for a ship's biscuit."
"Astounding rascality!" exclaimed Mr. Embury, as his wife paused for an instant in her reading.
"Why, how much are those coins worth in our money?" she asked. "I really do not know exactly."
"A guilder," he replied, "equals 40 cents of our money; so that 20 guilders would be $8. Think of that as the price of a cup of water! probably not the coolest or cleanest either. Then the 50 rix dollars for a ship biscuit would equal $18.25. Think of such a conspiracy as that on the part of a ship's officers to rob defenceless passengers!"
"Why, it was just dreadful!" she exclaimed. "Those officers were no better than pirates."
"Not a whit! In fact, they were pirates. But go on, my dear; let us have the rest of your story."
Mrs. Embury resumed her reading.
"'What shall we, what can we do,' asked Frau Follen of her husband. 'I fear there will be no money left for buying land when we reach America.'
"'Alas! I fear not, indeed!' he returned; 'and should anything happen to delay the vessel we may be reduced to great extremity even before reaching the shores of America. Ah, would we had been satisfied to remain inthe fatherland!' he groaned in anguish of spirit.
"'Ah, father,' said Gretchen, the eldest daughter, 'let not your heart fail you yet. Help may yet come from some unexpected quarter, and if not—if we die for lack of food—we may hope to awake from the sleep of death in the better land, to suffer and die no more. Let us trust in God and not be afraid.'
"'You are right, my daughter,' he returned with emotion. 'But oh, God grant I may not be called to see my wife and children suffer and die for lack of food!'
"A young man standing near, one with whom they were slightly acquainted, here joined in the conversation.
"'It is dreadful, dreadful!' he exclaimed, but speaking in a subdued tone for fear of being overheard by their inhuman oppressors, 'the way these mercenary wretches are robbing the helpless poor whom they have entrapped into their net. Every fellow of them deserves the headsman's axe, and I hope will reach it at last. Think of the exorbitant sums they are asking for the barest necessaries of life! Nor do I believe they will ever carry us to our destination, lest complaint be made of them and they be brought to condign punishment by the authorities of the land.'
"'But, what then do you think they will do, Herr Ernesti?' asked Frau Follen, gasping with fear and horror, as she spoke.
"'I cannot tell,' he answered. 'Mayhap land us on some desert island, and leave us there to struggle as we can for life. But, thank God, they cannot take us to any spot where He does not rule and reign, or where His ear will be deaf to the cries of His perishing ones. So, my friends, let us not give up to utter despair. "The Lord is my light and my salvation; whom shall I fear? The Lord is the strength of my life; of whom shall I be afraid?"'
"'Yes, yes; what consolation in knowing that!' cried Gretchen, tears of mingled joy and sorrow streaming down her face. 'Father, mother, sister, and brother, we are all His and He will care for us in His own time and way.'
"But who shall describe the scenes that followed through weeks of deepest distress and agony, as fathers and mothers, husbands and wives, brothers and sisters saw their dear ones perishing with famine, while they themselves were goaded almost to madness by the pangs of hunger added to their bitter grief?
"But they were entirely in the power of their inhuman torturers, who never relaxed in their demands until they had wrenched fromtheir wretched victims every stiver in their possession.
"That accomplished, and no food remaining—unless a very, very scanty store—they, officers and sailors, deserted the vessel, going off in the boats, leaving their helpless victims to their fate, for not one of them had either the needed knowledge or strength for the management of the ship; and so she drifted aimlessly hither and thither at the mercy of the winds and waves, carrying her fearful cargo of dead and dying whither they knew not.
"To the survivors that voyage seemed like one long, dreadful dream, full of horrors and keenest anguish of body and mind. Of the many emigrants who, filled with the hope of reaching a land of freedom and plenty, had crowded the vessel at the beginning of the voyage, but seventeen feeble, emaciated, almost dying creatures were left when, one cold winter morning, about Christmas time, the now dismasted hulk of the good shipPalatinedrifted into Narragansett Bay and struck on Sandy Point, Rhode Island.
"It was Sunday morning, but the good people of the island seeing the wreck, and knowing there might be in her some living soul in distress, hastened on board, where they found the poor, perishing creatures, and at once carriedthem all ashore save one woman—Lisa Kuntz, the nurse of the Follens, who obstinately refused to leave the vessel. She was seated upon the deck with her belongings about her, and there she was determined to stay. But she was not safe there, as the islanders well knew; for the dismasted hulk could not be secured against drifting away, and as the tide arose around it they, as a last resort, set it on fire, thinking the lone woman would certainly be frightened, and prefer coming ashore to remaining upon the burning ship. But she would not, and as the tide rose the blazing hulk drifted away, carrying her with it."
"Oh, how dreadful!" sighed several of Molly's hearers.
"Wasn't it?" she responded. "I suppose the sufferings of the poor creature must have made her insane."
"But the sixteen who were brought ashore, did they live?" asked Lucilla; and in reply Mrs. Embury resumed her reading.
"The sixteen who had been carried ashore were treated with the greatest kindness by the islanders, all their wants carefully attended to; but for nearly all of them help had come too late, and all but three soon died. Of the Follen family Gretchen alone remained, a lonely, almost heart-broken creature, having seenfather, mother, brother, and sister laid in the grave soon after landing upon the island. But Herr Hubert Ernesti remained. He had been beside her all these dreadful weeks and months, had sympathized in all her griefs, all her sufferings of mind and body, and each had learned to look upon the other as the nearest and dearest of all earthly beings; so that when, beside the newly filled grave that held the last of her family, he asked her to give herself to him that they might meet all coming trials and share all joys together, she did not say him nay, or withdraw the hand he had taken in his and held in a clasp so loving and tender.
"It was from them the islanders learned the sad story of the terrible scenes and sufferings on board thePalatine; an experience poor Gretchen could never recall without tears.
"Hubert and she remained upon that hospitable island for some years, then left it for their original destination, where, we will hope, they lived out the remainder of their lives in peace and happiness."
"And that is the end of your sad little story, is it?" asked Rosie, as her cousin paused in the reading.
"Of the story of those two," said Molly; "but I have something more to read, if no one is tired of listening."
No one seemed to be, and she resumed:
"Ever since the burningPalatinedrifted away that night a strange light has been seen at intervals along this coast whence she departed on that last voyage. Many have seen it, and the superstitious and ignorant have looked upon it as the phantom of the burning shipPalatine, ever drifting upon the open sea, always burning but never consumed; seen only at long intervals, as she drifts off the western coast.
"A well-known physician of Block Island, having had two opportunities of seeing it, says, 'This curious irradiation rises from the ocean near the northern point of the island; looks like a blaze of fire; either touches the water or hovers over it. It bears no more resemblance to theignis fatuusthan to the aurora borealis. Sometimes it is small, resembling the light through a distant window; at others expanding to the height of a ship with all her canvas spread; the streams, somewhat blended together at the bottom, separate and distinct at the top, the middle one rising higher than the others. It is very variable—sometimes almost disappearing, then shining out anew. It changes about every three minutes; does not always return to the same place, but is sometimes seen shining at a considerable distancefrom the place of disappearance. It seems to have no certain line of direction. The flame, when most expanded, waves like a torch; is sometimes stationary, at others progressive. It is seen at all seasons of the year and, for the most part, in calm weather which precedes an easterly or southerly storm. It has, however, been noticed in a severe northwesterly gale and when no storm followed immediately. Its stay is sometimes short, at others all night, and it has been known to appear several nights in succession.'
"'This light,' says another person, 'is often seen blazing at six or seven miles distance, and strangers suppose it to be a vessel on fire. The blaze emits luminous rays. A gentleman whose house is situated near the sea tells me that he has known it to illuminate considerably the walls of his room through the window; but that happens only when the light is within a half mile of the shore.'"
"But where did you learn all this, Molly?" asked her husband, as she paused to turn a leaf in her manuscript.
"From Mr. Baylor's 'History of Newport County,' lent me by my kind friend, Mrs. Barker, of the old revolutionary house," Mrs. Embury answered, then continued her reading.
"Says Mr. Joseph P. Hazard of Narragansett Pier: 'I first saw it three miles off the coast. I suspected nothing but ordinary sails until I noticed the light, upon reappearing, was apparently stationary for a few moments, when it suddenly started toward the coast, and, immediately expanding, became much less bright, assuming somewhat the form of a long, narrow jib, sometimes two of them, as if each on a different mast. I saw neither spar nor hull, but noticed that the speed was very great, certainly not less than fifteen knots, and they surged and pitched as though madly rushing upon raging billows.'"
"Superstition, every bit of it!" remarked Mr. Dinsmore, as Mrs. Embury folded her manuscript and laid it aside.
"Why this any more than theignis fatuus?" queried Mr. Embury, in a tone that seemed a mixture of jest and earnestness. "Neither has as yet been altogether satisfactorily accounted for. The latter having puzzled philosophers from the time of Aristotle."
"True," said Mr. Dinsmore, "there are various theories advanced in regard to that. All we know certainly is that it is a luminous appearance frequently seen in marshy places, churchyards, and over stagnant pools."
"Has it ever been seen in this country, grandpa?" asked Grace.
"I think not," he replied, "but it is not unfrequent in the lowlands of Scotland, the south and northwest of England, or the northern parts of Germany. The time of year for its appearance is from the middle of autumn till the beginning of November."
"I think I have read that the people of the districts where it was frequently seen used to be superstitious about it in olden times; and that they called it Will-o'-the-wisp, and Jack-a-lantern."
"Yes; and believed it to be due to the agency of evil spirits who were trying to lure travellers to their destruction. And unfortunately it was sometimes mistaken by unwary travellers for a light, and in trying to reach it, thinking it shone from some human habitation where they might find shelter and a night's lodging, they would follow it and so get into, and sink in, the marsh, thus losing their lives."
"Is it not about time we were seeking our night's lodgings?" asked Mrs. Dinsmore pleasantly, as her husband concluded his sentence. "See, the clock is on the stroke of nine, which is a late enough hour for most of us now, whenwe are moving about so much during the day. Surely it is for Gracie, whose eyes, I notice, begin to droop."
"I think you are right, my dear," replied her husband. Then he requested Mr. Lilburn to lead their family worship.
A few days longer our friends lingered in their pleasant cottages on the beautiful island, loath to leave it, with any one of its many interesting localities unexplored. They walked, rode, drove, and sailed about the bay, visiting now one island, and now another. Captain Raymond's acquaintance with naval and military officers, and his high reputation among them making it easy for them to gain access to vessels, forts, and fortifications.
Goat Island interested them as the place where the English shipLibertywas destroyed before the Revolution. They saw the noble stone pier, hundreds of feet long, visited the torpedo station, and the captain pointed out to the others the curving point on which, more than a century ago, very many pirates had been hanged.
They visited the city too, and looked with interest upon the old houses that had stood here in and before Revolutionary times; among them Redwood Library, and old Trinity Church, in which Bishop Berkeley had often preached.
The young people were much interested too,in the old stone mill—that singular relic of the past about which there has been so much speculation—and, when visiting the island cemetery, in the plain obelisk marking the last resting place of Commodore Perry, the hero of the battle of Lake Erie.
Many of these things the captain and his family had seen on former visits to Newport, yet they enjoyed seeing them again in company with those of the party to whom they were entirely new.
But holidays must come to an end, and at length all felt so great a drawing toward their distant homes that a proposal to return to them was made by Mrs. Dinsmore, and hailed with delight by all the others.
The needed preparations were speedily made, and early one morning they set sail in the yacht, which before night had landed all but the captain's immediate family and Evelyn Leland in New York, where they took a train for Philadelphia.
Mr. Cyril Keith was to meet his wife and family there, and they, with the Emburys, were to hasten on to their homes in Louisiana, pausing on the route for only a short visit to the neighborhood of the old home of Isadore and Molly, and the relatives there.
Mr. and Mrs. Dinsmore had planned a shortvisit to their relatives in and near Philadelphia; and his daughter Elsie, with her daughter Rosie, one to her son Walter at Princeton; while Mr. and Mrs. Lilburn were to do likewise by her brother, Donald Keith and his family, Annis feeling very happy in the thought of seeing them all, and showing them the dear, kindly old gentleman to whom she had given her heart and hand.
Having landed these passengers, the yacht changed her course, and sailed on down the Atlantic coast. The little ones were in their berths, the others all on deck.
"Now, if I were not here, you would be just a family party," remarked Evelyn, breaking a momentary silence.
"I think we are as it is," said the captain. "As you are a pupil of mine, will you not let me count you as one of my family?"
"Indeed, sir; I should be only too glad to have you do so," she answered, in a sprightly tone; "but I doubt if Lu would be willing to share her choicest treasure—her father's love—with me."
"Why, yes, I should, Eva! because he wouldn't love me any the less for loving you also," said Lulu.
"Oh, then you may adopt me just as soon as you like, captain," laughed Evelyn.
"Now, I think I have a right to some say in this matter," said Violet, in a light, jesting tone. "I object to becoming mother to a girl of your age and attainments, but am perfectly willing to have you for a sister."
"Very well, my dear, that settles it," said the captain. "You and I, Eva, will consider ourselves brother and sister."
"Ah, I like that," said Grace; "though I am not sure that I shall consider Eva my aunt. Papa, are we going directly home now?"
"Do you not see that we are hurrying onward in that direction?" he asked in reply.
A sudden thought seemed to strike Grace. "Oh, is Max in Annapolis now?" she asked.
"Yes," her father answered, with a joyous smile, "and I want to see my boy so badly that I have decided to call there for a few hours before going home; unless some of you strongly object," he added, in a jesting tone.
"Of course we do, papa," laughed Lucilla. "How can you suppose that any of us would be willing to see Max?"
"Very well, anyone who is averse to seeing him will have the privilege of shutting herself into her stateroom while he is on board, and indeed, during the whole visit to Annapolis," replied the captain.
"And I well know Lu will not be one of them," laughed Violet.
They had a speedy and pleasant voyage, a delightful little visit with Max, after that a joyful return home, followed a few weeks later by the coming of the Dinsmores, Travillas, and Lilburns, for whom some pleasant family parties were held, after which all settled down for the winter's duties and pleasures.
The captain continued to act as tutor to Evelyn and his daughters, but Rosie had forsaken the schoolroom, Walter was no longer there, and for a time it seemed a trifle lonely to the remaining ones. They soon, however, became accustomed to the state of affairs, and so deeply interested in their studies that the hours devoted to them passed very swiftly and pleasantly.
They also resumed their labors for the poor and ignorant of the neighborhood, making clothing for them, and teaching the women and girls to sew for themselves and their families, at the same time cultivating their minds and hearts to some extent, by taking turns in reading aloud to them simple and instructive tales of value for this life and the next.
It was Grandma Elsie who selected the reading matter and took the care and oversight of all the charitable work of her young friends—directing,encouraging, and urging them on, by both precept and example.
How dearly they loved her! It might be truly said of her, as of the virtuous woman described in the last chapter of Proverbs: "She openeth her mouth with wisdom; and in her tongue is the law of kindness."
THE END
BY
MARTHA FINLEY