The Centre reporter. [volume] (Centre Hall, Pa.) 1871-1940, 1878-05-16
PRUDENCE GRAY.

That's nv name, for father said there
wasn't better barge on the river than
the Prudence, and if WAS called the
same he was sure there would never be
O better girl
Poor father he Was always very
fond OF me. and my earliest remem-
Frances are of sitting on the tiller and
having n ride, when he stood there Of an
evening steering the barge, with the
great cinnamon red sail filed ont by the
wind, and the water foaming and bub-
bling by us as we ran on mp the river
toward the big city, where the ships lay
close together in dock and against the
wharves, emptying tneir loads or waiting
for others before going away across the
seas.
used to think our barge, which was
8 very small biIly-boy, If YOU know what
that is-if you don't must tell you that
it's barge built with rounded ends and
low bulwarks, meant for carrying loads
up rivers, but built also To be able to go
ont 10 sea q little while. running along
the coast-I used 10 think our barge, |
say, q very, very large ship, till grew
old enough 10 compare II with those that
passed rs going up or down the river,
and then il used TO seem TO me that il
would be wonderfully fine TO go on
board one OF those great ships and 60
sailing away-far away - across the
ocean, instead OF Just coasting along to
Sheerness and up the Medway, as we
used to 60 year after year. loaded deep
down in the water with pottery or hops,
or even bricks.
/ can't tell you how my child-life
slipped away, living with mother and
father on board that barge, in a little
bit Of q cabin with tiny stove all l
know is that was very happy, and that
/ never hardly went ashore, aud when
did was frightened and wanted to get
back and at last | seemed to have
grown all at once into a great girl, and
father and were alone.
Yes, quite alone, for mother had left
us very suddenly, and we have been
ashore at Sheerness, father and /, and
came back from the funeral and were
sitting on the cabin hatch, before |
could believe il was anything but ter
rible dream, and that / should not wake
and find that she was alive once more.
as bithe and CHEEKY as ever, ready to
take the tiller or pull at q rope, the
sama as l did when father wanted any
help.
Father was o changed man after that,
and as a couple Of years slipped by the
work on the barge fell more and more
into my hands, and used to smile 10
myself as 1 saw how big and red and
strong they had grown. For father
grew quiet and dull day by day, and
used to have stone bottle filed when
ever he went ashore, and then sit with
it in the cabin all alone till called him
TO come and help with the sail.
Not that I wanted much help, for ours
was only a small barge, and once start
ed, with fair wind, / could manage her
well enough while when we had 10 tack
backwards and forwards across the river
mouth, could always lock the tiller by
the rope that hung on the Delaying pin,
and give it a hitch on this side or that
side, till had taken a pull at the sheet
and brought the barge round on the
other tack.
must have passed half my life in
those days leaning back against that
tiller, with its end carved to look like a
great acorn, and the name OF the old
barge, Prudence, cut deep in the side.
There I'd stand looking ont ahead as
We glided along over the smooth sea,
passing a buoy here and light there,
giving other barges and smacks a wide
berth. and listening to the strange
Il
wheeled and hovered and swept by me,
so closely sometimes that could almost
have touched them with my hand.
Our barge was well known all about
the mouth OF the river and far up be-
yond the bridge; and somehow, I don't
know how it was, the men on the differ
ent boats we paased had always kind
hail or wave of the hand for us, as we
glided by, il we were too far of for
kindly shout TO reach us.
Sometimes I'd run the barge pretty
close to the great ships and steamers,
inward or outward bound, so as to look
at the ladies / saw on board; not that /
cared to do so very often, because it
seemed to make me sad, for the faces /
looked on seemed 10 be so different to
mine that I felt as if / was another kind
of being. and il used TO set me wondering
and make me think; and at such times
I've leaned against the tiller and dream
ed and dreamed in a waking fashion Of
how I would like TO read and write
and work. as I had seen ladies sitting
and reading and working, on the decks
of the big ships, under the awning; and
then / had to set my dreams aside and
have pull at the sheet or take a reef In
the sail; because the wind freshened and
nv dreams all passed away.
I don't think poor father meant it un-
kindly. but he seemed to grow more and
more broken and helpless every day; and
this frightened me, and made me work TO
keep the barge clean and ship-shape,
lest the owners should come on board
and see things slovenly, and find fault
with father and dismiss him, and that l
knew would break his heart. So / work
ed on. and in dull heavy way father
used TO thank me; and the time glided on,
till one day, as we were lying off South
end, with the sea CLASSY and not wind
enough to fill the sails, felt my cheeks
heoin TO burn as leaned back against
the tiller. and would not turn my head,
because / could hear boat being sculled
towards us, and knew it was coming
from the great leeboard barge lying
astern.
!" He's coming to see father said to
myself at last in choking voice; and as
a hail came was obliged to turn, and
there stood up in the little boat he was
scull1ng with an oar over the stern John
Grove in his dark trousers, blue jersey