Raftsman's journal. [volume] (Clearfield, Pa.) 1854-1948, 1871-07-26

could be done, the ship must be left to the
mercy of Providence All this time. none
had seen the vessel, for the falling snow
prevented objects fifty yards distance being
seen, yet the STEADY and incessant firing Of
the cannon-heard above the roaring of the
tempest-told us of her deep and dire dis
tress
Women were wringing their han ds and
begging, against their own judgment (for
they knew as well as any, how foolhardy
would be such an undertaking. the men, for
the sake of the mothers. sisters and wives
of those on board, to try and save them.
At last they sent up rocket. and an
other, and finally they lit q signal light, and
by its glare we saw her.
There she lay, not biscuit throw from
the shore, beam ends on, and the sea ma
king clean breach over her. Just at that
very moment, heard an implorins voice,
close by my side. say, 'Abner. Abner, pray
do try and save them 7
Il turned quickly, and there stood Esther
and Abner.
Il didn't speak word and | don know
what possessed me, but feeling came over
me that I'd have to reach that ship or die.
There were plenty Of lines at hand, so, ia
king one, and coiling it upon the beach, |
commenced to fasten it around my waist.
When it became known that | had made up
my mind to go off, every one tried to dis
=. -
don't believe there was any power on earth
that could have prevented me from trying
It's sure death, said one but | didn't care;
he would have had to use a stronger argu--
ment than that to deter me then.
when all was in readiness, and with a
lighter line attached to my wrist, | walked
toward the sea, and waited for a good OPP
portunity in returning wave to make the
plunge. The opportunity soon came, but
at that instant Esther sprang forward threw
her arms around my neck, and entreated
me, in the name Of the love | used to bear
her, not to go.
That maddened me-Idon't know why,
but it did-and | strove roughly to unclasp
her hands from about my neck. She only
clung the tighter, and. amid her tears and
sobs, called me her dear, dear Dave, and
told me that she loved me dearly.
'Lovcl' | said, bitterly. Keep your
love for those that want it-such as Abncr
Sanford, there
AT these words, she loosed her arms,
turned on me look OF reproach, and fell
fainting on the sands. l gave one glance
at her, and then l was battling with tbs
sea
well, don't know much about it, but,
anyhow, the poor fellows were saved-tho
terribly frost bittcn--and they do say that
was the man that did it. However, wba,
| know is, that when | came to know any.
thing, was lying in bed, terribly stiff aid
sore, with big cash upon my forehead
caused by being thrown violently against
the wreck
1T was some days before | was able tc
leave my bed, and when did, an armchair
was rugged up with pillows, to make me easy
and comfortable; for, | assure you, wa:
just as sore all over as it's possible for ;
man to be, and could make no movement
without assistance.
''The second day l was up, heard some
body enter the room; but | paid no atten
ton, as | thought it was old Martha Swain
who had come to nurse me, when it wa
found | was hurt. and had been with mt
ever since, when | heard voice say, Dave
Pearson will you speak to mc?'
my heart gave great jump, for | knew
it was Esther, and my JOY was great, bu
my foolish pride would not permit me t.
own it; so | growled out, like great saw
age brute that | was, What do you want
She came and stood in front OF me
never saw woman SO changed in all nj.
life; she was pale and careworn, and he
eyes were red as if from crying. My Who'll
soul yearned toward her, but my brutal OF
stnacy hept me silent, and looked dogged
ly at her.
"'Oh, Dave she said, do, do forgiv
me! You are good, kind, generous, brave
and am but poor, weak woman. 1o
little know how | love you, and how sor
it has made my heart to be bad friends wit
you. was wrong, Dave, dear Dave Fol-
give me- Take me to your great lovin
| heart, and let me be to you as | once was.
Il hardly know what | said in reply, bu
| mumbled out something about Abne
Sanford, and she had better go to him fc
| comfort.
SAT these words she gave little cry {
pain, clasped her hands in anguish, an
said, Dave Pearson, you don't know VIII;
you are doing you are breaking my heart
she then turned toward the door, and
heard her open it. | could stand it no lor
ger; | tried to follow her; but, Lor' BILE:
you couldn't stir, and, ike a great baby
| commenced to cry-weakness made me d
that, | suppose-and blubbered out th
word Esther
In another instant she was in my arm
and covering me with kisses Hush hel
she comes not word to her, as she don
like to have it spoken about"
At this juncture, Esther, with her brigh
pleasant face, entered the room, and saic
Come, Dave, if you have to catch the FIR
tide in the morning, 1t is time you and I'll