"Macbeth.Ifwe should fail—"Lady M.Wefail!But screw your courage to the sticking place,And we'll not fail."—Shakespeare.
"Macbeth.Ifwe should fail—
"Lady M.Wefail!But screw your courage to the sticking place,And we'll not fail."
—Shakespeare.
Sundaymorning came and our young friends met at the breakfast table, not in their usual jesting, mirthful mood, but with cheerful gravity of demeanor, suited to the sacredness of the day.
"There is no preaching, no sort of religious service within our reach to-day," Edward remarked.
"Then shall we not have one of our own?" asked Mary. "I have a book of sermons: one might be read aloud; then we can have three prayers and as many hymns as we please; we all sing."
"And we might have a Bible reading also," suggested Ella. "And suppose we take up the International Sunday-school Lesson and study it."
All these propositions were received with favor and eventually carried out.
They did not think it wrong to stroll quietly along the shore, or to sit there watching the play of the billows, and thus they ended their afternoon.
The evening was pleasantly spent in serious talk and the singing of hymns on the front porch, where they could feel the breeze and see the foam-crested waves by the light of a young moon.
They retired early, feeling that they had had an enjoyable, restful day, and rose betimes, full of life and vigor—except Amy; and even she felt equal to a longer stroll than she had yet taken.
The days flew by on swift wings, each bringing its duties and enjoyments with it, and so pleasant was the gay, free life they led that at times they half regretted that it must come to an end.
Yet there were other times when some, if not all of them, anticipated, with real satisfaction, the return to the more serious business of life.
There was a very frequent exchange of visits between their party and the one to which Edward and Violet more properly belonged; sometimes by way of the cars, at others by riding or driving; so that Violet was never many days without sight and speech of her mother and some of the other dear ones at home; and that reconciled her to a longer absence from it.
At length the younger Elsie was persuaded to come and spend a few days with Mary and her party, the mother consenting to spare both daughters for that length of time. The sweetgirl's presence added much to the enjoyment of all, especially her sister, for their mutual attachment had always been very strong.
One day there was a large fishing party, composed principally of guests from other houses, which both Elsie and Violet declined to attend; but Vi, fired with a laudable ambition to emulate her cousin Mary's skill in the culinary art, volunteered to get dinner, and have it ready by the time the others returned.
Each one of them offered to stay and assist, but she would not hear of it; laughingly asserting that "she wanted all the honor and glory, and wouldn't have anybody with her but Elsie, who knew nothing about cooking, but would keep her from being 'lone and lorn,' and perhaps help a little in those things which were so easy that even the lads could do them," she concluded, with a merry glance from one to the other.
Edward was not there, some errand having taken him home by the morning train.
"Can you stand that insinuation, Donald?" asked Charlie. "I vote that you and I stay at home to-morrow and get dinner, just to prove our skill in that line."
"Agreed," said Donald; "but what's to be done with the lasses in the meantime? We can't let them go off pleasuring alone."
"Oh, Edward can take care of them all foronce; he's to be back by dinner-time to-day, you know, so will be on hand here to-morrow."
"Thank you," said Ella, laughing, and with a mock courtesy, "but we are entirely capable of taking care of ourselves, as perhaps we may prove to you one of these days. But here's the carriage at the gate. Come, Amy, I'll help you in. Let us show these lords of creation that they are of not quite so great importance as they are pleased to imagine."
She ran gayly out, Amy following a little more slowly, with a regretful good-bye to the two who were to remain at home.
The lads hurried after, in season to forestall Ella in assisting Amy into the vehicle, which the former had hastily entered unaided, before they could reach it.
Mary lingered behind a moment to say to Elsie and Violet that she did not in the least care to go, indeed would prefer to stay with them.
"No, no, cousin Mary," they both said, "we would not have you miss the sport, or deprive the rest of the pleasure of your society."
"Besides," added Violet, with a merry look and smile, "if you were here I know very well I should miss the opportunity to distinguish myself as a capable and accomplished cook. So away with you, fair lady! See, the lads are waiting to hand you into the carriage."
"Good-bye then, but don't attempt an elaboratedinner," Mary returned, as she hastened away.
The sisters stood on the little porch watching the departure till the carriage was out of sight.
Just then a boy carrying a large basket opened the gate and came in.
"That's right, you are just in good time," was Vi's greeting. "Please carry them into the kitchen. Have you brought all I ordered?"
"Yes'm; potatoes, corn, beans, tomats, cabbage, lettuce, and young beets. All right fresh and nice."
Violet paid him and he left.
"There, I shall have a sufficient variety of vegetables," she remarked, viewing her purchase with satisfaction.
"O Vi," sighed Elsie, with a look of apprehension, "do you in the least know what you are about?"
"Why of course, you dear old goosie! haven't I watched Cousin Mary's cooking operations for over two weeks? Oh I assure you I'm going to have a fine dinner! There's a chicken all ready for the oven—cousin showed me how to make the stuffing and all that. I've engaged fresh fish and oysters—they'll be coming in directly. I shall make an oyster pie and broil the fish. I mean to make a boiled pudding and sauce for dessert, and have bought nuts, raisins and almonds, oranges, bananas and candies besides, and engaged ice cream and cake."
"Your bill offaresounds very good, but what if you should fail in the cooking?"
"Oh, no such word as fail for me!" laughed Vi. "I've screwed my courage to the sticking place, and don't intend to fail. Now we must don our big aprons and to work; you'll help me with the vegetables, I know."
"Willingly, if you'll show me how."
Violet felt very wise and important as she gave her older sister the requested instruction, then went bustling about making her pudding and pastry: for she decided to add tarts to her bill of fare, and the oyster pie must have a very nice crust.
But as she proceeded with her preparations she discovered that her knowledge was deficient in regard to many of the details of the business in hand; she did not know exactly how much time to allow for the cooking of each dish—how long it would take the chicken to roast, pie and tarts to bake, pudding and vegetables to boil.
She grew anxious and nervous in her perplexity; there was no one to give her the needed information, the cookery books did not supply it, and in sheer desperation she filled her oven, her pots and kettles as fast as possible, saying to Elsie it would surely be better to have food a little overdone than not sufficiently cooked.
It proved an unfortunate decision, especiallyas the fishing party were an hour later in returning than had been expected.
Poor Violet was too much mortified to eat when she discovered that there was no sweetness left in the corn, that her potatoes were water-soaked, her oysters tough as leather, the chicken scorched and very much overdone, the fish burnt almost to a cinder, and—oh worst of all! cooked with the scales on. She had forgotten they had any.
Her friends all comforted her, however, taking the blame on themselves. "If they had not been so late, things would not have been so overdone; it was their fault. And the lettuce, the cold-slaw, and bread and butter were all very nice. The tarts too."
But as soon as she tasted them Violet knew she had forgotten the salt in her crust and that it was tough compared to her Cousin Mary's.
And then the pudding! oh why did it turn out so heavy? Ah, she had made it with sour milk and put in no soda.
"Oh what shall I do?" she said despairingly to Mary, who was helping her to dish it up. "There's hardly anything fit to eat, and I know you are all very hungry."
"Indeed, dear little coz, there is a great deal that's fit to eat," Mary said, glancing toward he table on which the last course was set out—except the ice cream, which had not yet beentaken out of thefreezer.
"Yes, those are nice, but the substantial of the meal—just what are most needed—are all spoiled. Oh what's that?" with a sudden change of tone as a man bearing a large hamper appeared at the open door; "something from mamma, I do believe."
"Yes," said Edward, stepping in after the man as the latter set the hamper down; "and asit'smore than an hour past dinner time, I supposeitsvery well I didn't come empty handed."
"O Ned, Ned, you dear, good fellow!" cried Violet, springing to his side and throwing her arms around his neck.
"Yes, you may well say that!" he returned, laughing, as he gave her a kiss, then put her aside and stooped to open the basket, "for I told mother what you were attempting to-day, and she said 'The poor, dear child! she will surely fail, so I'll send some provisions with you when you go.' And here they are, all of the best, of course, for mamma never does anything by halves," he added, beginning to hand out the viands—a pair of cold roast fowls, a boiled tongue, pickles, jellies, pies and cakes in variety,—Mary and Vi receiving them with exclamations of satisfaction, delight and thankfulness which quickly brought the others upon the scene, just as the bearer of the hamper, who had gone out on setting it down, re-entered with a basket ofof beautiful, luscious looking peaches and grapes.
"Hello!" exclaimed Charlie, in high glee, "what's all this? a second dinner?"
"Yes," returned Violet, "my dear, good mother's atonement for her conceited daughter's failure."
"No, no, we don't call it a failure, nor the cook conceited," cried a chorus of voices; "some things are very nice, and others were spoiled by our fault in coming home so late."
"Well, please come back to the table and we'll begin again," said Violet, carrying the fowls into the dining-room, Mary following with the tongue, Elsie and Ella with other edibles.
"Please, some of you, help me carry away dinner number one, to make room for dinner number two," said Vi, replacing the dish containing her unfortunate chicken with the one on which she had put the new arrivals.
Upon that everybody seized one or more of the dishes and hurried back to the kitchen; and so with a great rushing to and fro and amid much laughter and many merry jests they respread the board.
Violet's spirits and appetite had returned, and she joined the others in making a hearty meal.
The next morning was cloudy and cool for the season. All agreed it was just the day fora long stroll inland, and shortly after breakfast they set out in a body—Mary, Ella and Edward leading the van, Donald and Edward's two sisters coming next, Charlie and Amy bringing up the rear.
There seemed to be a tacit understanding that those two were always to be together and no remark was ever made about it, but Charlie always quietly took possession of the fragile little lady, just as if he had entered into bonds to be her care-taker and entertainer, accommodating his pace to hers, which was so much slower than that most natural to the others that they often unintentionally left her far behind.
They presently met Mrs. Perkins, Fred and Susie, who were also starting out for a walk, and the two parties joined their forces.
They passed through the village, and sat down for a little while on some rustic benches under the trees on the river bank, to rest and enjoy the pleasing prospect.
The village lay behind them; before, green slopes dotted here and there with trees standing singly or in groups; then the sparkling river, to the left, beyond the bridge, widening into a lake-like expanse, to the right pouring its waters into the great ocean, on whose broad bosom many ships, steamers and smaller craft could be seen, some near, others far away in the distance.
The surface of the river too was enlivened by a number of small sail-boats slowly moving before the wind, and skiffs that darted hither and thither. On the further bank the scene was diversified by woods and fields, with here and there a farm-house, then the sandy beach bordering the wide blue sea.
"Are you quite tired out, Amy?" Charlie asked after a little.
"Oh no, I'm quite rested," she answered gayly, "and feel able to walk a good deal farther. I am really surprised to find how strong and well I am."
"The sea-shore's the place for you evidently," he said; then as she sprang up nimbly to join the others as they rose and moved on again, "But I don't know that it would be best to keep you here too long; you might grow so strong as to feel capable of dispensing with any help from other folks."
"Which would be very delightful indeed," she returned with an arch look and smile as she accepted his offered arm.
They hastened on after the rest of their party, over a bridge and along the roadside for some distance, then they all struck into a narrow footpath on the farther side of the fence, the young men letting down the bars to give the ladies easy ingress, and followed that through a bit of woods, crossing a little stream by a brokenbridge, where again the lads had the pleasure of giving assistance to their companions of the weaker sex; then across some cornfields; making a circuit that brought them back to the river.
The path now ran along its bank, and still pursuing it they came at length to a little inlet where was neither bridge nor boat.
There they stopped and held a consultation. No one wanted to go back by the way they had come, it was too long and roundabout; if they could but cross this inlet they could soon reach one of the life-saving stations on the other side, and there probably find some one who would carry them across the river in a boat, when a short walk along the beach would take them to their temporary homes.
"The water is not deep, I think," said Donald. "I propose that we lads strip off boots and stockings, wade through and carry the ladies over. I will wade across first and try its depth."
He did so, spite of some protests from the more timid of the ladies, and found it hardly knee-deep. All then agreed to his proposition.
"Edward and I will make a chair by clasping hands," he said gayly, "and Fred and Charlie can do likewise if they will, and we will divide the honor of carrying the ladies over dryshod."
Donald had a purpose in selecting Edward as his companion and helper in the undertaking;feeling pretty certain that Elsie and Violet would choose to be carried by their brother, which they did.
"I see through you, young man," Charlie said to Donald in a laughing aside while making ready for the trip, "but I don't care very much, if you leave Miss Fletcher for me."
"All right," returned Donald, "I intended to, for I see which way the wind blows. She's light too, my lad, and will be the better suited to your strength."
"Strength, man! I'm as able to lift and carry as Lieutenant Keith, if I'm not greatly mistaken," Charlie said with pretended wrath, "and to prove it I speak for the carrying of Mrs. Perkins and Miss Neff, who must be a trifle heavier than any of the other ladies."
"All right; but fortunately there isn't one in the party heavy enough to be any great burden to either of us."
So amid a good deal of mirth and laughter and some timidity and shrinking on the part of the younger girls, the short journey was made, and that without mishap or loss.
Then a short, though toilsome walk through the soft yielding sand brought them to the life-saving station, a small two-story frame building standing high on the sandy beach, the restless billows of old ocean tossing and tumbling not many rods away.
They were courteously treated by the brave fellows who make this their abode during eight months of the year, were shown the room on the lower floor where they cook and eat, the two above where they sleep, and also all the apparatus for saving the shipwrecked and any others who may be in danger of drowning within reach of their aid.
Our friends were all greatly interested in looking at these things—the colored lamps and flags for signalling, the life-boat, the breeches-buoy and the life-car—this last especially: it was of metal, shaped like a row-boat, but covered in over the top, except a square opening large enough to admit one passenger at a time, and having a sliding door, the closing of which, after the passengers are in, makes the car completely water-tight.
"How many will it hold?" asked Edward.
"Six or seven grown folks, if they are not very large sized."
"Oh, I should think they would smother!" cried Violet.
"It is only about three or four minutes they'd have to stay in it," said the exhibitor.
Then he showed them the thick, strong rope or hawser on which it runs, and the mortar by means of which they send a line to the distressed vessel with a tally-board attached on which are printed directions—English on oneside, French on the other—for the proper securing of the hawser to the wreck.
"The other end is made fast on shore, I suppose?" said Amy inquiringly.
"Yes, Miss."
"And when they have made their end fast and got into the car—"
"Then we pull 'em ashore."
"Not a particularly pleasant ride to take, I imagine," remarked Donald.
"Not so very sir; she's apt to be tossed about pretty roughly by the big waves; turn over several times, liker than not."
"Yes, I suppose so."
"Oh," cried Amy, with a shudder, "I think I'd almost rather drown."
"No, Miss," said the man, "I guess you'd find even that better'n drowning."
Having fully satisfied their curiosity, our friends inquired if there was anybody about there who would take them across the river.
"Yes, sir, I'll row you across, half of you at a time," answered the man, addressing Donald, who had acted as spokesman for the party. "All of you at once would be too big a load for the boat."
It was but a short walk to the river, a few minutes' row across it, and soon they were all on the farther side and walking along the beach toward home.
"Dinner time!" exclaimed Ella, looking at her watch. "What's to be done about it?"
Her question seemed to be addressed to Mary.
"Don't ask me," was the demure reply. "It's none of my concern to-day. Didn't you hear the agreement between Charlie and Don yesterday?"
"There! Mr. Charles Perrine, see the scrape you have got yourself and me into!" exclaimed Donald with a perplexed and rueful look.
"What in the world are we to do!" cried Charlie, stopping short with his hand upon the gate and turning so as to face the others.
"Get in out of the sun for the first thing," replied his cousin.
"Yes, yes, of course!" and he stepped back and held the gate open for the ladies to pass in.
"We are all hungry as bears, I suppose," he said when they were fairly in the house. "Come, Mary, be good and tell us what to do. Shall we go to one of the hotels?"
"No, make the fire, set the table, and grind some coffee," she answered, laughing. "I foresaw that I'd have to come to the rescue, and am prepared. We'll have coffee, stewed oysters, cold fowl left from yesterday, plenty of good bread, rolls and butter, fruits and cake, and it won't take many minutes to get it ready."
"Mary, you're a jewel!" Charlie returned, catching her about the waist and kissing her on both cheeks.
"Begone, you impertinent fellow!" she said laughingly as she released herself and pushed him away. "Even a cousin shouldn't take such liberties."
"O pilot! 'tis a fearful night,There's danger on the deep."—Bayly.
"O pilot! 'tis a fearful night,There's danger on the deep."—Bayly.
"O pilot! 'tis a fearful night,There's danger on the deep."—Bayly.
—Bayly.
Elsiehad gone home, and in a few days our little party would break up entirely, Ella and Amy return to their homes, Mary, Donald and Charlie go with Edward and Violet to their mother's cottage to spend some time as Mrs. Travilla's guests.
The Allisons had gone, and there was now abundance of room, though the Conlys, mother and daughter, still lingered, loath to leave the delightful sea breezes.
The quiet life led under her cousin Elsie's roof was not much to Virginia's taste, but nothing better had offered as yet.
Breakfast was over, the morning tasks the girls had set themselves were all done, and the whole four came trooping out upon the porch where the three lads were standing apparently very intent upon some object out at sea.
Edward was looking through a spy-glass, which he handed to Donald just as the girls joined them, saying, "See if you can make out the name."
"Not quite, but she is certainly a yacht," was Donald's reply, after a moment's steady gaze at one of the many vessels within sight; for they had counted more than forty of various sorts and sizes, some outward bound, others coming in. The one which so excited their interest was drawing nearer.
"Let me look," said Mary. "I have the reputation of being very far-sighted."
Donald handed her the glass and pointed out the vessel.
She sighted it, and in another moment said, "Yes, I can read the name—'The Curlew.'"
"Ah, ha!" cried Edward in a very pleased tone, "I was correct; it is Will Tallis's yacht."
"And really it looks as if he meant to call at Ocean Beach," added Charlie. "Must have heard, Ned, that you and I are here."
"Doubtless," laughed Edward.
"Will Tallis?" repeated Violet inquiringly. "Is he a friend of yours, Edward?"
"Why, yes; have you never heard me speak of him? He's a splendid fellow, one whom I should very willingly introduce to my mother and sisters."
"And has a yacht of his own?"
"Yes; he's very rich, and delights in being on the sea. Inherits the taste, I suppose; his father was a sea-captain. He told us—Charlieand me—that he meant to go yachting this season, and wished he could persuade us to go with him."
"And I, for one, should like nothing better," said Charlie. "Why, Ned, he is coming ashore! See, they have dropped anchor and are putting off from the yacht in a boat! Yes, here they come, pulling straight for this beach. Where's my hat? Let's run down, boys, and meet them as they land!" cried the lad, greatly excited.
Amy had found his hat and silently handed it to him. Edward and Donald seized theirs, and all three rushed to the beach.
"Come, girls," said Ella, "let us go too; why should we miss the fun, if there is to be any?"
They put on their hats, took their sun-umbrellas, and started. They however went only as far as to the sidewalk in front of the Colorado House—so many people were thronging the beach to witness the landing, which was now evidently to take place just below there, and our modest, refined young ladies did not like to be in a crowd.
Mrs. Perkins and Susie joined them. Fred was away; had gone over to New York, expecting to return by the evening train.
"Not much to be seen by us but the waves and the crowd," remarked Ella, a little impatiently. "Nor much to be heard but the murmur of their voices."
"They must have landed, I think," Mrs. Perkins said. "Yes, here they come; our lads, I mean, and a stranger with them. A very nice looking fellow he is, too."
The four young men drew near, and Edward introduced "My friend, Mr. Tallis," to the ladies.
He was very gentlemanly in appearance, and had a pleasant, open countenance, a cordial, hearty manner as he shook hands with the matronly married lady and lifted his hat to the younger ones.
"I am happy to make your acquaintance, ladies," he said, with a genial smile and an admiring glance at Violet, "and have come to ask the pleasure of your company on board my yacht. I am bound for Boston and the coasts of New Hampshire and Maine—a short sea-voyage which I trust you will find enjoyable if I can but persuade you to try it."
Mrs. Perkins declined, with thanks, for herself and Susie. Violet did likewise. The other three hesitated, but finally yielded to the persuasions of the lads.
"O Edward, you will not go, surely?" whispered Violet, drawing her brother aside.
"And why not?" he returned with some impatience.
"Because you haven't mamma's consent, or grandpa's either."
"No, but that's only because they are not here to give it. I'm sure there's nothing objectionable. Will's the very sort of fellow they would approve, the vessel is new and strong, and the captain and crew understand their business."
"But a storm might come up."
"Why, Vi, how silly! there's no appearance of a storm, and we are not intending to go far out to sea. Besides, you might just as well bring that objection to any trip by sea."
"Yes; but if you had mamma's consent it would be different."
"I don't see that. I'd ask it, of course, if I could—and be sure to get it, too, I think—but there isn't time; they don't want to lose this favorable wind and fine weather, and will be off again within an hour. Come, make up your mind to go with us: I want you along, for I think it will be a delightful little voyage."
"Thank you, brother, but I don't wish to go, and couldn't enjoy it if I went without mamma's knowledge and consent: and I do wish you would not go."
"Vi, I never knew you so absurd and unreasonable! But if you will not go along, perhaps I ought to stay to take care of you. I had not thought of that before. Mother left you in my charge, but I am sure she would not want me to lose this pleasure, and it strikes me as a trifleselfish in you to make it necessary for me to do so."
"I don't want you to stay on my account," she said, tears springing to her eyes, "and I don't think you need. I can go home this afternoon by the cars. Probably mamma would not mind my taking so short a ride alone."
"I don't know: but I should enjoy the voyage far more with you along."
"What is the matter?" asked Mrs. Perkins, overhearing a part of the talk. "I will take charge of your sister, Mr. Travilla, if she prefers to stay behind."
"Thank you," Edward responded with brightening countenance. "But—Vi, you will not care to bathe while we are gone?"
"No, Ned, I shall not go in without you, as mamma desired me not."
"And you are willing for me to go?"
"Not quite; I wish you wouldn't; only don't stay to take care of me."
Edward looked a good deal vexed and annoyed.
"Mrs. Perkins," he said, turning to her, "if Fred were here, would you object to his going?"
"No, not at all. I should leave him to follow his own inclination. But," as Edward turned triumphantly to Violet, "I am not meaning to encourage you to go, if your sister thinksyour mother might object: all mothers do not see alike, you know."
"Well," he said, "I imagine I am as competent a judge of that as Violet is. I feel well-nigh certain that she would bid me go and enjoy myself. She's not one of the fussy kind of mothers who are afraid to let their children stir out of their sight."
"Then you will go?" said Mr. Tallis.
"Yes," Edward answered, resolutely avoiding Violet's pleading looks.
"I wish we could persuade your sister," Mr. Tallis said, turning to her. "Are you timid about venturing on the sea, Miss Travilla?"
"Not particularly," she said, coloring slightly.
"Then do come with us! the more the merrier, you know, and I should be so happy. I do not feel quite comfortable to carry off all the rest of your party and leave you alone."
The girls joined their entreaties to his, but Violet was firm in her resolution to remain on shore.
Then Mary offered to stay with her, but as Violet felt convinced that it would involve a sacrifice on her cousin's part, she would not consent.
They now all hastened back to the cottage to make such preparations as might be needful. It was not much to any of them, as they expected to return the next day or the one following.
"Edward, can I be of any assistance to you?" Violet asked, going to the door of his room.
"Yes, if you like to pack this valise. Maybe you would do it better than I. I'm alone, so come in."
Violet accepted the invitation, and did the little service quite to his satisfaction.
"You are a nice, handy girl, if I do say it that shouldn't," he remarked laughingly. "But what's the matter?" as he saw that her eyes were full of tears.
"O Edward, don't go away vexed with me!" she exclaimed, putting an arm around his neck. "Suppose a storm should come up, and—and we should never see each other again."
The last words came with an irrepressible burst of tears and sobs. The loving young heart was sore from recent bereavement, and ready to fear for all its dear ones.
"Come, don't fret about possibilities," he said, kindly. "I'm not vexed now, and you must forgive me for calling you selfish."
"You don't think I am?"
"No, indeed! but just the darlingest little sister ever a fellow had. I shouldn't like—if anything should happen—to have you remember that as one of the last things I had said to you. No, I was the selfish one. Now good-bye, and don't worry about me," he said, holding her close, and kissing her several times; "you know,Vi dear, that we are under the same protecting care on sea and on land."
"Yes," she whispered, but with some hesitation, and drawing a deep sigh.
"Ah!" he said, "you doubt whether I shall be taken care of because I'm going without permission. Are you not forgetting that we have always been trained to think and decide for ourselves in all cases where it is right and proper for us to do so? And why should I need permission to go on the sea in a yacht any more than in a fishing-boat? Can you answer me that?" he concluded, half laughingly.
"No," she said, with a slight smile, "and I daresay you are in the right about it."
"Then you won't change your mind ('tis a woman's privilege, you know) and go along? It's not yet too late."
"No, thank you; I do not care to claim all the woman's privileges yet," she answered with playful look and tone.
"Hello, Ned! 'most ready?" shouted Charlie from below. "Time's about up."
They went down at once.
The other girls were on the porch quite ready to start, Donald standing with them. Mrs. Perkins and Susie could be descried down on the beach waiting to see them off; Mr. Tallis too, chatting with the ladies.
The young men gathered up the ladies' satchelsand their own. Charlie offered his arm to Amy, but she declined it with a laughing assurance that she was now strong enough to walk without support.
"Miss Neff," he sighed, turning to Ella, "I've lost my situation: will you?"
"And you and the rest of us will, maybe, lose something else if we don't hurry," she answered lightly. "'Time and tide wait for no man,' so let us make haste before they fail us."
These three were very merry, the other three sober almost to absolute quietness as they made their way to the waiting boat.
Edward kissed his sister again as he was about to step into it, and she clung to his neck for a moment whispering, "Ah, I shall pray that you may come back safely!"
"Don't borrow trouble, you dear little goose," he said, as he let her go.
At the last moment it appeared that Donald was not going.
There were various exclamations of surprise and disappointment from the voyagers when his purpose to remain behind became apparent, "They had understood he was going—why did he change his mind?"
"Well," he said, with a quiet smile, "a man is not bound to give all his reasons, but the fact is Mrs. Perkins has held out strong inducements to me to stay where I am."
"And he couldn't be in better company, could he?" was her laughing addition.
Violet was as much taken by surprise as the others, but in her secret heart not at all sorry—"It would be so much less lonely with Cousin Donald there."
They stood on the beach, waving their handkerchiefs to their departing friends until the latter had reached the deck of the yacht. Nor did they cease to watch the vessel so long as the smallest portion of it was visible, as it faded quite out of sight.
Violet felt a strong inclination to indulge in a hearty cry, but putting a determined restraint upon herself, chatted cheerfully instead. Yet her friends perceived her depression and exerted themselves for her entertainment.
"It seems to me," Donald said, with a glance at Violet, but addressing Mrs. Perkins, as they went into a summer house near by and sat down, "that this little lady has less of inquisitiveness than most people—(I will not say most of her sex, for I think my own is by no means deficient in the characteristic)—or she would have made some inquiry in regard to the strong inducements I spoke of."
"What were they?" Violet asked. "You have roused my sleeping curiosity."
"Mrs. Perkins has kindly offered to come to the cottage and help us with our housekeepingwhile the rest of the lads and lassies are away, and to bring Miss Susie and her brother with her."
Vi's face lighted up with pleasure. "It is very kind," she said. "Now I shall not mind the absence of the others half so much as I had expected. I like my little room at the cottage, and do not fancy living in a crowd as I must anywhere else."
"Then you will not go home?" Donald said, inquiringly.
"No; upon second thought I have decided against that plan, because if I did go I must tell mamma how it happened, and then if a storm should come up she would be tortured with useless anxiety about my brother."
"You are very thoughtful of your mother."
"As any one would be who had such a mother as ours, Cousin Donald."
"She is certainly very lovely and lovable," he said. "Now about our meals, cousin. Do you object to taking them in a crowd? at one of the public houses here?"
"No; I think it the least of two evils," she answered, with a smile, "for I own to being somewhat tired of the fun of housework and cooking."
"Then we will settle upon that plan," Mrs. Perkins said; "sleep and live at the cottage, breakfast, dine and sup elsewhere."
Mrs. Perkins was a very good talker, full of general information, anecdote and entertaining reminiscences, a delightful companion even to one as young as Violet.
Time passed swiftly to them all. Life at the cottage, because it took them out of the crowd, was more enjoyable than that at the hotels, which were all very full at this season, and as a consequence, very noisy.
The cottage seemed very peaceful and quiet by contrast. Indeed it was far quieter now than it had been at any time in the past two or three weeks, and Violet, who was beginning to weary of so much sport and mirthfulness, really found the change agreeable.
By the middle of the afternoon of the next day they began to watch for the reappearance of the Curlew; but night closed in again without the sight.
There was a very fresh and stormy breeze from the north-east when they went to bed. In the morning it blew almost a gale, and as Violet's eyes turned seaward her face wore a very anxious expression.
"No sign of the Curlew yet," she sighed, as she stood at the parlor window gazing out upon the wind-tossed billows, plunging, leaping, roaring, foaming as if in furious passion.
"No; and we may well thank God that we do not," said Donald's voice close at her side, "forthe wind is just in the quarter to drive them ashore: I hope they are giving the land a wide berth."
She looked up into his face with frightened eyes.
"Do not be alarmed," he said; "let us not anticipate evil. They may be safe in port somewhere; and at all events we know who rules the winds and waves."
"Yes," she murmured, in low tremulous tones, "the stormy wind fulfils His word: and no real evil shall befall any of His children."
There was a moment of silence; then, "It is about breakfast time now," he said, "but you will not venture out in this gale, surely? Shall I not have your meal sent in to you?"
"Thank you, but I prefer to make the effort to go," she said; "I want to get a nearer view of the sea."
The others felt the same desire, and presently they all started out together.
The ladies found it as much as they could do to keep their feet even with the assistance of their stronger companions, and the great, wind-driven waves sometimes swept across the sidewalk.
It was clearly dangerous, if not impossible, to approach nearer to the surging waters. The gale was increasing every moment, the sky had grown black with clouds and distant mutteringsof thunder, and an occasional lightning flash gave warning that the worst was yet to come. Evidently it would be no day for outdoor exercise or amusement.
Regaining the cottage with difficulty, after eating their breakfast they brought out books, games and fancy work, resolved to make the best of circumstances. Yet anxious as they were for the fate of their friends, the voyagers in the yacht, they did little but gaze out upon the sea, looking for the Curlew, but glad that neither she nor any other vessel was in sight.
The Curlew's cabin was comfortably, even luxuriously furnished, her larder well supplied with all the delicacies of the season. Favored with beautiful weather and propitious winds, our friends found their first day out from Ocean Beach most enjoyable.
They passed the greater part of their time on deck, now promenading, now reclining in extension chairs, chatting, laughing, singing to the accompaniment of flute and violin; the one played by Edward, the other by Charlie.
The yacht was a swift sailer, her motion easy, and until the afternoon of the second day they were scarcely troubled with sea-sickness. Most of the time they kept within sight of land, touching at Boston, Portsmouth, and several other of the New England seaports, and continuing on their course until the wind changed,when they turned, with the purpose of going directly back to Ocean Beach.
For some hours all went well, a stiff breeze carrying them rapidly in the desired direction; but it grew stronger and shifted to a dangerous quarter, while the rough and unsteady motion of the vessel made all the passengers so sea-sick that they began to heartily wish themselves safe on land.
The ladies grew frightened, but the captain assured them there was as yet little cause for alarm. He had shortened sail and put out to sea, fearing the dangers of the coast.
But the wind increased constantly until by night it was blowing a gale, and though every stitch of canvas had been taken in and furled, they were being driven landward.
All night long the seamen fought against the storm, striving to keep out to sea, but conscious that their efforts were nearly futile. There was little sleep that night for passengers or crew.
Morning broke amid a heavy storm of rain, accompanied by thunder and lightning, while the wind seemed to have redoubled its fury, blowing directly toward the shore.
The girls, conscious that they were in peril of shipwreck, had gone to their berths without undressing. Amy had been very sick all night, and the other two, who stood it better, had done their best to wait upon her, though it was littlethat could be done for her relief, and the pitching and rolling of the vessel frequently threw them with violence against each other or the furniture.
"It is morning," said Ella at length; "see, it grows light in spite of the storm; and I hear voices in the saloon. Shall I open the door?"
"Yes," said Mary, "let us learn the worst, and try to be prepared for it."
The three young men were in the saloon, and the girls joined them, Amy looking like the ghost of herself.
Charlie, who had stationed himself near her door, instantly gave her the support of his arm, putting it about her waist, while he held fast to the furniture with the other hand, and her head dropped on his shoulder.
With death staring them in the face they did not care for the eyes of their companions in peril: who, indeed, were too full of the danger and solemnity of their own position to pay any attention to the matter.
"O darling," Charlie said hoarsely, "if I could only put you safe on shore!"
"Never mind," she answered, looking lovingly into his eyes, "if we die, we shall die together; and O Charlie, as we both trust in Jesus, it will only be going home together to be 'forever with the Lord,' never, never to part again!"
"Yes, there's comfort in that," he said; "and if you are to go, I'm glad I'm here to go with you. But life is sweet, Amy, and we will not give up hope yet."
Mary and Edward had clasped hands, each gazing silently into the sad and anxious face of the other.
She was thinking of her invalid mother, her father, brothers and sisters, and how they would miss her loving ministrations.
He too thought of his tender mother so lately widowed, her sorrow over the loss of her first-born son; and of other dear ones, especially Violet, away from all the rest, the only one conscious of his danger. He was glad now that she had refused to come with them, but he knew the terrible anxiety she must feel, the almost heart-breaking sorrow his loss and the sight of their mother's grief would be to her.
"Mr. Tallis, I know we must be in great danger," Ella said, as he took her hand to help her to a seat. "Is there any hope at all?"
"Oh surely, Miss Neff!" he replied; "we will not give up hope yet, though we are indeed in fearful peril. The greatest danger is that we shall be driven ashore; but we are still some distance off the coast, and the wind may change or lull sufficiently for an anchor to hold when we are in water shallow enough for trying that expedient. And even should we be wrecked,there will be still a chance for us in the good offices of the members of the life-saving service."
"Ah, yes," she said, a gleam of hope shining in her eyes, "the brave fellows will not leave us to perish if they can help us."
"And we will put our trust in God," added Mary.
What a day it was to them all, the storm raging throughout the whole of it with unabated fury, and their hope of escape from the dangers of the deep growing less and less.
The patrolmen were out, and toward sundown one of them descried the masts of a vessel far away in the distance. It was seen by others also, for all day long many glasses had been, at frequent intervals, sweeping the whole field of vision seaward.
The news spread like wildfire, creating a great excitement among the multitude of people gathered in the hotels and boarding-houses, as well as among the dwellers by the sea, not excepting the brave surfmen whose aid was likely to be in speedy requisition.
Hundreds of pairs of eyes watched the vessel battling with the storm, yet spite of every effort sweeping nearer and nearer the dreadful breakers. She seemed doomed to destruction, but darkness fell while yet she was too far away for recognition.
Violet and her companions had gazed upon her with fast beating hearts from the time of her appearance until they could no longer catch the faintest outline of her figure in the gathering gloom.
Donald had nearly satisfied himself of her identity, but would not for any consideration have had Violet know that he believed her to be the Curlew. Even without that confirmation of her fears, the anxiety of the poor child was such that it was painful to witness.
It was indeed the Curlew, and about the time she was descried by those on land the captain remarked aside to her owner, "The Jersey shore is in sight, Mr. Tallis, and nothing short of a miracle can save us from wreck, for we are driving right on to it in spite of all that can be done. The Curlew is doomed, she has dragged her anchor, and will be in the breakers before many hours."
"It will be a heavy loss to me, captain," was the reply, "but if all our lives are saved I shall not grumble; shall on the contrary be filled with thankfulness."
"Well, sir, we'll hope for the best," was the cheerful rejoinder.
Soon all on board knew the full extent of the danger, and our young friends gave themselves to solemn preparation for eternity; also, in view of the possibility of some being saved whileothers were lost, made an exchange of parting messages to absent loved ones.
It was again a sleepless night to them; sleepless to our Ocean Beach friends at the cottage also, and to many others whose hearts were filled with sympathy for those in the doomed vessel.
About midnight the report of a signal gun of distress sent all rushing to the beach. She had struck, not a quarter of a mile from the shore; and as the clouds broke away the dark outline of her hull could be distinctly discerned among the foam-tipped breakers.
The rain had ceased, and there was a slight lull in the tempest of wind, so that it was possible to stand on the beach; but so furious still was the action of the waves that the patrolman, having instantly answered the gun by burning his signal-light, and now rushing in among his mates, reported that the surf-boat could not be used.
So the mortar-car was ordered out.
There was not an instant's delay. Gallantly the men bent to their work, dragged the car toilsomely over the low sand-hills to a spot directly opposite the wreck, and by the light of a lantern placed it and every part of the apparatus—the shot-line box, hauling lines and hawser for running, with the breeches-buoy attached—in position, put the tackles in place ready forhauling, and with pick and spade dug a trench for the sand anchor.
Each man having his particular part of the work assigned him, and knowing exactly what he was to do and how to do it, and all acting simultaneously, the whole thing was accomplished in a short space of time after reaching the desired spot.
An anxious, excited crowd was looking on. Apart from the throng and a little higher up the beach were our friends, Fred in charge of his mother and Susie, Donald with Violet under his protection.
She had begged so hard to come, "because it might be the Curlew, so how could she stay away?" that he had no heart to resist her entreaties. And he felt that she would be safe in his care, while Mrs. Perkins' presence made it perfectly proper.
All being in readiness the gun was fired, and the shot flew through the rigging of the ill-fated vessel.
Edward, now standing on her deck, understood just what was to be done, and no time was lost. With a glad shout, heard by those on shore, the line was seized by the sailors and rapidly hauled in.
Ere long the hawser was stretched straight and taut between the beach and the wreck—the shore end being raised several feet in the air bythe erection of a wooden crotch—and the breeches-buoy was ready to be drawn to and fro upon it.
"Will you try it first, sir?" the captain of the Curlew said to Mr. Tallis.
"No, I should be the last man to leave the wreck."
"Go, go, Will!" cried Edward imperatively; "go and tell them to send the life-car, for there are ladies to be saved."
"Yes, go sir; don't waste precious time in disputing," cried the captain; and thus urged the young man went.
He reached the shore in safety, was welcomed with a glad shout, and instantly the word circulated among the crowd, "The owner of the Curlew. It is she."
Violet had nearly fallen fainting to the ground, but Donald, supporting her with his arm said in her ear, "Courage, my brave lassie! and they shall all be saved."
"Take care of my mother and sister for a moment, Keith!" exclaimed Fred, and plunging into the crowd he quickly made his way to the side of the rescued man.
"This way, if you please," he said, touching him on the shoulder; "a lady, Miss Travilla, would be glad to speak to you."
"Oh, yes! I know!" and all dripping and panting as he was, but having already deliveredhis message, and seen the men on the way for the safety-car, he went to her.
"It is Mr. Tallis," Fred said; "Miss Travilla, my mother and sister, and Mr. Keith," for it was too dark for a distinct view of each other's faces.
"My brother?" faltered Violet, holding out her hand.
"Is uninjured thus far, my dear young lady, and I trust will be with you in a few minutes. The vessel must, I presume, go to pieces finally, but will undoubtedly hold together long enough for all on board to be brought safely to shore."
Men from among the crowd had volunteered to assist in bringing the car, and while awaiting its coming the breeches-buoy travelled back and forth, bringing the sailors; for neither Edward nor Charlie would leave the ladies, and the captain insisted that he should be the last man to be rescued.
From the hour of their early morning meeting in the saloon the Curlew's passengers were almost constantly together, a very sober, solemn, and nearly silent company. Mary, in speaking of it afterward, said she felt as if she were attending her own funeral and listening to the sighs and sobs of her bereaved friends.
"And yet," she added with a bright, glad smile, "it was not all sadness and gloom; for the consolations of God were not small withme, and the thought of soon being with Christ in glory was at times very sweet."
When the vessel struck, Charlie started up with a sharp cry, "We are lost!"
Then all immediately fell on their knees while Edward poured out a fervent prayer, that they might be saved from a watery grave, if such were the will of God, if not, prepared for death and a glorious immortality; adding a final petition for the dear ones who would grieve for their loss.
Just as they rose from their knees the signal gun was fired.
Then the captain came down the companion-way and looking in upon them, said. "Don't despair ladies and gentlemen; things are not quite so bad as they might be; we have grounded very near the shore and a life-saving station, and my signal gun was immediately replied to by the patrolman with his red signal light. So we may feel assured that prompt and efficient help is near at hand."
Hope revived in their breasts, as they listened; then Will Tallis and Edward ventured upon deck, leaving the girls in Charlie's charge.
The warning lights on shore gave to the anxious watchers on the deck an inkling of what was being done for their relief, and when the shot was fired from the mortar and came whizzing through the rigging, Edward cried out indelight. "The line, the line! Now we shall be helped ashore!"
As the vessel was now without motion, save a shiver as now and again a great wave struck her, the girls were pretty comfortable and in no immediate danger, and as they urged it, Charlie, too, at length ventured upon deck.
He soon returned with an encouraging report, the better understood by the girls because of their late visit to the life-saving station. "The sailors were hauling in the line," he said, and soon the work of transporting them all to land would begin.
Amy shuddered at the thought of a ride in the life-car, yet, as the surfman had predicted, felt that even that would be far preferable to drowning.
The next report brought them was of Mr. Tallis's safe landing, and the next that the life-car waited for them.
Edward, the captain, and two sailors helped Mary and Ella across the wind-swept deck and into the car, Charlie and another sailor following with Amy.
They put her in after the other two and Charlie stepped in next, calling to Edward to come also.
"No," was the quiet reply. "I go by the breeches-buoy."
The sliding door was hastily shut, and Amygasped for breath as she felt the car gliding swiftly along the hawser, while the great waves dashed over it, rocking it from side to side.
Charlie's arm was round her, holding her close, but she grew deathly sick and fainted quite away.
The minutes seemed hours, but at last they heard, above the thunder of the breaking waves, a great shout, and at the same instant felt the car grate upon the sand.
The door was pushed open, Charlie, the nearest to it, stepped out, drew Amy after him, apparently more dead than alive, and leaving it to others to assist Mary and Ella, bore her in his arms, in almost frantic haste, to the nearest house.
Mary was in Vi's arms almost before she knew that she had actually reached shore; Vi kissing her with tears and sobs, and crying, "Edward, Edward, where is he?"
"Coming," Mary said, "the brave, generous fellow would see us all safe first."
It was not long now till Violet's anxiety was fully relieved and her heart sending up glad thanksgivings as she found herself clasped to her brother's breast, all dripping wet though he was.
And great was the joy of the young owner of the Curlew when he learned that though she was a total wreck, not a single soul had been lost in her.