Watertown republican. [volume] (Watertown, Wis.) 1860-1906, 1877-01-03
he tide. There 90 the hook and ladder

the wind blew the words Gown his
throat. &c shall leave you III the tavern
with Mr.. Charles" said he to his wife,
while L go down and have look at
thugs" And presently the little inn
came in sight behind it's bulwark of
sand hills, and they were driving into
the yard.
But what desolation was the inn and
it's surroundings The sign and the
flag staff had been FRUSTRATED by the
gale, and the yard was a sheet OF salt
water, in which all the debris of the
place, the pigs, the dogs, and the buck
cts, were promiscuously swimming.
The piazza was under water, the lower
floor of the house was also a6oat, the
underpinnipg of the sheds and tie.ups
had given way, and the buildings were
leaning to their fall, while the old wind
whitened willows looked like witches
with their gown tucked up as they stood
in the over. flow. Mr.. Brenton drove
close to the bulwark of the sand hills,
left his wife in the phHton, and leaped
out upon the sand, climbed the low
mound, and ran down where the men
had clustered and were at work the best
they knew to save the wreck.
Standing up in the carriage, Mrs.
Brenton could see all that went forward
below, could see the broad breast of the
sea feathered in thousand plumes of
snow, while she felt the shock of every
surge of the boiling surf, and trembled
every time the great spouts of foam
went flying high as clouds where the
ledge ran out to meet the open fury of
the flashing pillows. She could see,
too, the dead pail of the sky lift, shade
by shade, as the wind went hauling
round to the south; could see the part
ing of that vapor bank with the first
full puff from tue south, and the wreck
starting out like sudden creation,
black with it's ruin on ell that tumultu-
Gus gray and silver, still slowly rising
and falling and drifting in with
the tide. When she turned her
head around she could see, also
the life in the inn yard, in curious pro-
sale contrast to the tragic terror Just
beyond. Not that you would call 1t
every day life, because it was not every
day that the little pigs were swimming
the Newfoundland swan after them and
grappled an ear; it was not every day
that the good taverner, MIR. Charles,
was wading about in his top boots, in
speeding the general rout, of only
fraction of which he was yet aware,
rubbing his hands, and conducting
himself as if to have ones house and
goods afoat was little occasional &C.
centricity on the part of Providence
with which one must put up. Then she
turned her head and saw the wreck
again, still drawing near and nearer her
dreadful doom with every throb
of the surf, while the men ran to and
fro upon the shore, and the red stars of
the rockets one by one went shooting
out and falling short of their mark. It
seemed to Mrs Brenton that she could
even see the people crowding on the
deck; she fancied one figure was wo.
man with child in her arms, woman
standing st as she had stood on that
black, that horrid night, when the sea
snatched her darlings from her clasp.
An agony of pity overcame her as she
thought these people could probably
see her there in safety while death was
believing for them. She sat down
moment and covered her eyes; the sight
and the memory were too much for her;
instructive prayers rose to her lips for
the safety of the wretches driving Oh SO
surely to destruction; before she knew
it she was praying for that mother with
the little child in her arms, was praying
with all her heart for the little child.
Of d sudden, as she sat there with her
eyes closed, there was shock as it the
sky had fallen and the earth had risen
to meet it; she sprang to her feet, and
saw that che wreck had struck, had
struck and parted, and wild, wild
wall, chorus of despair rose above the
beating of the waves.
Mr.. Charles waded out to where the
phaeton stood up to its floor in water, on
one side of the yard. and handed her
his long spy glass. AS she steadied it
and gazed with aching eyes at the hor-
ror, there came one of those mighty
throes of the tide when the whole sea
seems to be heaved from its bed; the
parted wreck heaved with it, far, far up
cry like the ghost Of the first cry was
heard sweeping out and away, and in
a1other moment there was nothing to be
seen, neither wreck nor people; they
were as utterly gone as If they had
never been.
A long swift searching of the sea, and
then Mrs. Brenton leaped from che car
riage to the sand, climbed the mound,
and ran down the beach as fast as the
furious wind that swirled her clothes
about her would allow.
''Don't you see it?' she cried to her
husband, breaking in among the knot
Of men who had been vainly trying to
launch the ife-boat. 81 have hardly
lost sight Of it. There it is. to the left;
it is coming in fast, as if some great
sea-monster were running under it.
Hero, take the glass, and you will see.
It is little child, dear, and its mother
has bound it in cradle, and it is tos-
sing on the waves like those tubs in the
yard. Oh, the sea is giving us back
something for what 1t stole away!'
Mr.. Brenton returned the glass in q
few seconds, while she stood trembling,
and then, without word, sprang into
the life boat, as, at last, it rode triumph
ant over the rollers. It seemed to Mrs.
Brenton as if she had endured scarcely