The Kenosha telegraph. [volume] (Kenosha, Wis.) 1860-1888, 1877-06-14

| III those fearful minutes! DlQ not the
Captain think of his brothers, yes. and
his father before them, to wonder if the
sea would be his grave as it was theirs ?
and the poor fisherman-did he not
| feel. in q mocking dream, the warm,
clinging arms of his babies around his
stiffening neck? But Franks thoughts
were all of his mother, swell
ing his boyish heart till it seemed
ready to break, as he fancied the bitter
ness of her grief if he never came back
to her. The towns-people often called
him "mother's boy" not only because
he had grown up under her sole care
and it was evident that he was the one
precious thing she had still to live for
but also because of a certain neatness in
his dress at all times, and gentleness and
refinement in his speech and manners,
which might have come from that con-
slant womanly influence. Many feared
that his character might lack the manly
virtues of courage and decision and
even his schoolmates, when the love of
teasing was very strong, would call him
"mother's baby" and "Franky," laying
an insulting emphasis upon the last
syllable, so that he had begged his
mother to call him Frank, which she
did, unless in moment of tenderness
the old baby name slipped from her
tongue. If the veteran seamen of the
place could have known the situation of
this forlorn and shivering trio, what
hope Of rescue would they have found in
the disabled Captain, the inefficient
Smith, or the boy who, according to
their prophecy, "would never be good
for much brought up SO soft by
Women?"
The clock in the steeple Of the village
church struck; the sounds were faint,
but they could count the strokes.
" Uncle Charlie" said Frank, " is that
II o'clock %
eyes"
"Don't the tide turn about this time p
asked Josiah.
"It has turned replied the Captain; ;
sit is ebbing now."
"Then," cried Frank, "we1l drift
out to sea everybody will be home to
dinner now; no one will be likely to
come to the shore for an hour, and per-
haps no one will see us to-day p
Frank" said his uncle, earnestly,
"keep up your courage-don't give up.
My miserable head is beginning to
whirl, and may drop off soon; but hold
on think of your mother, Frank, and
keep afoat as long as you have your
senses.
But even while he spoke, he felt how
slender was the chance that the poor
mother would ever see her living darling
again.
The mention of his mother called up
before the boy her gentle face as he saw
it last, smiling at his boast of swimming
from the ''Neck" to the shore He had
never heard that any one ever performed
that feat out would it be possible to
swim from the boat to the shore, through
the icy water and the wide belt of en-
tangling eel-grass? It did not seem so
far to the "Neck," and there was no
dreaded eel-grass on that side to catch
his feet and pull him down ;; but the
nearest point was fully two miles from
the lighthouse, the only inhabited
house there. He might reach it alone,
but could he be so mean as to leave his
uncle without an effort to save him, and
poor 'Siah too?
Uncle, said Frank. 81 am going
to swim ashore; here we are right op-
posite Capt Wentworth's I can swim
ashore, get his dory, and come after you
and 'Siah. I think I can do it; at any
rate, I can't hold on long in this wind,
and l shall soon be too numb to swim"
The Captain was silent-wnat could
he say? To go or to stay seemed
equally dangerous but Frank, loosing
the hold of one hand, was already
working his stifened fingers, and trying
to throw off his boots in readiness for a
start.
"Gor said his uncle; Sand God
help you p
And God did help him as he threw
himself into the angry waters and struck
out for the shore He felt resolute and
confident, wasted no strength in uncer-
tain, hurried movements, but with de-
hberate and steady strokes went on. The
tide being almost at the food, he passed
through the entangling eel-grass with
l0SS UrOlDlH GIldu u0 HUI l0di0u on, on.
stroke after stroke, the shore seeming to
grow no nearer, until at last, with one
final desperate effort, he reached the
shallow water his feet touched bottom,
he staggered forward, and fell upon the
sand.
Hardly a minute would he take for rest
the others must be saved. He sprang
up, waved his hands toward the distant
boat to show the men that he was safe,
and looked about-no boat in sight he
run up the sands to the boat-house and
pushed at the door-it was locked!
Here was difficulty that he had not
foreseen it would take at least twenty
minutes to run up to the house for
the key and return; twenty minutes lost,
when every one was precious! He seized
something heavy which lay at hand, and
showered frantic blows upon the cruel
door; at last it yielded, and there was the
boat, with oars all in readiness; he had
dreaded that the oars might have been