Daily Kennebec journal. [microfilm reel] (Augusta, Me.) 1870-1975, 1877-07-20
NO. l7O
Calls aud Skttehes.
THE FIsBERMAN'S TREASURE.

and when | had begun to despair, you
woke to consciousness. Poor baby how
you sobbed and moaned, and held out
your little hands | took you to my heart,
and felt the Lord had known what was
best for me. For prayed for death, and
he had sent me you"
"Dontt stop, papa Martin | always
like what comes next best"
"And so do |, said the old man. "I
shall never outive the exquisite sensa-
ton that thrilled my whole being when
you nestled up to me, and stealing your
tiny hands round my neck lisped out your
name, Meme. Then you cuddled down on
my shoulder and went to sleep clinging
to me. Vowed then to protect you and
study your interests; even, if need be
carry you in search of your kindred. !
have hestated long, but now | will no
longer delay it. We will go to Spain"
And that's the end ~ She thought a
minute. do you suppose that is really
my name P'
ut may be; your clothes are marked
with a coronet N The coronet stamps
you nobly born"
And now we are going to Spain ?'
Yes" answered Martin, with sigh.
lie knew 1t would be sometime. He
could not expect always to keep his treas
ure. 1t was time he tried to do her JUS
ice. lie had dreaded to hear what she
had to tell him, for he foreboded what il
would lead to.
"Do not look so sad," cried Meme. care
you not sure that shall never consent to
be parted from youP We shall live so hap
PLY in Spain, after | have found mother.
But Is 1t not strange, papa Martin, that
never think of finding my own papa ?
Something tells me he sunk with the
wreck. But we three will live very hap
PLY. We will have a splendid villa en-
powered in an orange grove, down by
the sea. Will we notP'
Martin shook his head sorrowfully.
''Why cannot you live in Spain as we'll
as here asked the child.
''Because-I am Spaniard myself, and
many years ago things you could not un-
derstand emblttered me against home and
country. My true name is Martinico De
Scoto, and it is high and powerful FAM
i lily to whom the name belongs. 1t is
thirty years since have spoken my right
name, until now. But for your sake |
will take it; will go to Spain. / know
you are Spanish; your looks, your man
ner, your accent, all declare it; and the
pieces of the wreck that drifted ashore
were of Spanish make"
Il know SO too, said the child passion
ately.
1T is but slender thread to go by,
but we will follow it up closely. The
money | have boarded all these years,
knowing no use for it, will serve us well
now. Come, Meme, it is getting late, let
us go in. Tomorrow we will be getting
ready for our journey"
Meme walked ON slowly. This was q
great change that was coming to her.
She looked wistfully about her. She al
ways thought OF the spot, in after years,
as it looked that night. A wild, bleak
point stretching far out to sea. The wild
est, bleakest part of the whole coast
High banks of sand, with here and there
a high boulder, nothing that looked like
a human habitation, only the black hull
of ship rising out OF the sand.
This was what Martin called his hut.
This was where he and the child lived
The portfolios served for windows, and the
inner part spoke well for Martins me-
chanical skill and genius. She thought
too, OF the rude fishermen along the coast.
She had been as queen among their
wives and daughters. They had ever rec
ognized in her something above their own
coarser natures. 1t was they who had
given her the name of ocean Pearl"
She said to herself that she would never
forget them as long as she lived.
The next day the sun rose fair, and soft
and radiant. Martin the fisherman mend
ed no nets on the sand that day, and the
child's purchases OF yesterday lay un-
thought of in the boat. The sun rode on
to its zenith. Then Martin and his child
went out on the sands. You might have
known the two belonged to warmer
cline by the way they luxuriated in the
hot rays. The blue smoke curled laZily
up from Martins Meerschaum. as he lay
with his eyes half closed. Meme could see
Just then whale spouting.
They neither OF them knew of the Gu
riOus ship, that, with white sails all set
and filling in the breeze, bore down
toward them. The figure head at the
bows, halt-woman, hali-fish, glittered and
seemed to move its golden, FURNISHED
scales as alive. The dainty barge, with
its score of swarthy, foreign-dressed row.
ers, put oil from the vessels side. Near
er and nearer they came; a lady seemed
TO be urging them on. She was nearly
buried in the pale-blue cushions, covered
over with rare East Indian shawls. cen
ters of vivid scarlet contrasting richly
with their borders OF heavy fringed gold.
Meme had often imagined how her
mother would look, pale-iaced and rich
looking, with soft eyes searching ever for
something lost. She was buried in one
of those day-dreams now, as she gazed
absently out upon the water, seeing moth
ing but the whale spouting and the sea
meeting the sky. When Martin touched
her she turned absently.
Mama, Mama!' She stretched out
her arms to the soft-eyed lady. Here.
then, was the reality of the dreams and
longings. Martin could not but believe in
the resemblance between the two; he
placed Meme in her mothers arms. No
other proof was needed besides this sud-
den faith that held their hearts.
The Spanish fleet sailed out of the bar
Dor, after while, bound for Spain, and
Meme was carried away forever from the
wild scenes of her early childhood. Her
name was now Nina Castella Fanella.
SO you see her own baby lips had fash
ioned the first name pretty closely, when