The Eaton Democrat. (Eaton, Ohio) 1875-1903, 1878-07-18

der. But plainly, wildly before my
eyes l saw the figure of my wife, sitting
at work by the fire, waiting and watch
ing for me-for me who never should
come. That was the bitterness of it.
And yet withal | was not unconscious
of certain vague sense of the ludicrous
of myself, that / should be thus stuck
up astride beam, like some lad at play,
a sport for the bufetings of the ele-
ments With this, too, an unspeakable
rage, kind of crushed defiance, a re-
volt against the doom which was immi-
nent-a revolt which felt itself hopeless
and useless from its beginning.
While all this storm of conflicting
thoughts was whirling through my
brain, the turmoil outside was diminish
ing The wind had hushed for awhile,
and across my face for moment sort
of ruddy glow, the last beams of the sun
setting rapidly into these The vapors
divided for a moment, the huge dark
mass of mountain frowned down upon
me-for momentonly-then the clouds
encompassed me once more, the glow
died away, the awful gloomy gray of
night began to gather in upon me like a
vast net.
Should drop into the sea and end it
all! To die in the dark would be more
horrible than anything else. Even on
the quietest and most resigned death
beds the loss of light is the most dis
quieting trouble to the departing soul.
Light more light! is the last cry Of the
spirit in extremity. And now it seemed
as though nature had determined to
spare me no pang of all the gathering
horrors of my doom. Darkness and
despair were settling down upon my soul.
Theli came the storm once more with
rush of gathered rain, howl, a
shout, a roar of triumph as the shrill
wind trumpeted past, precursor of
more furious blast. could bear
no more. A sapless, nerveless form l
was, swept from the beam like with
cred leaf from branch, and ] fell,
catching at some crossbeams as I fell,
but losing my hold in moment, and
dropping helplessly down. Once more
consciousness returned. A vague, sill
very light was diffused about me, above
were stars shining, huge balks of timber
glimmered overhead. / was. stretched
upon bed of wet sand, lying on my
back, looking up into the sky. was
not dead, then. No! Was l MANNED,
crushed? / drew up one limb after
another, fearing least sudden shout of
agony should betray some grievous hurt.
But no! was sound in limb; and as /
raised myself and looked about l felt
that, except in the dizziness and Won
derful ringing that was ceaselessly going
on in my head, l was uDhurt. And l
was saved? That was as might happen.
When l rose and stood upon my feet
/ looked around me, and found that
had fallen upon little island, narrow
spit of sand that had formed in the eddy
caused by the pile of the bridge. On
each side of it ran strong and rapid
current. All this | saw by the light of
the moon, sometimes bright, sometimes
obscure, as she parted her way among
the fast driving clouds.
Distantly across the waters shone the
lights of the little town. l saw its gas
lamps, which sparkled brilliantly in the
night, and from out of the rocks which
showed against the sky line, here and
there the soft. light of candle in a
cottage window cleaned like a fairy
lamp.
On the other side of the estuary
there were no lights, but the straining
eye might discern the gloom of high
hills, that seemed, indeed, only like
some darksome chasms in the sky; but
as | watched l saw a tiny star that was
gliding among the rocks. Now seen,
now lost, followed it with longing
eyes, and listening intently heard the
clatter of horses hoofs and the murmur
of wheels rising and falling as the road
wound in and out among the rocks
further or nearer. 1t was some carriage
rolling rapidly toward home-toward
my home, and here was I, castaway
1 shouted, but my voice seemed lost
in the great space. The wind carried it
up the river, and blewit away into stifed
fragments. 1t was useless to cry; no
one would hear me. How long should
have to live? Was there any chance
that l might escape? 1 could not swim;
the channel on either side was, there
fore, an impossible barrier. Even had
l been an excellent swimmer l doubt if
in my enfeebled state 1 could have won
the further bank of the channel, where
the current was running the least
swiftly. How long would my island re-
main uncovered by the sea?
Six or eight feet above my head tan
gled masses of seaweeds hanging in the
/ interstices of the woodwork, showed the
highest reach of the ebb had commenced
an hour before / started from Abermaw.
Allowing an hour for my subseqent
adventures, the ebb would still have
three hours to run; then another three
hours would elapse before the tide would
reach me. I remembered that had
flask of metal in my pocket which still
contained dram of brandy, and then /
bad few fragments of biscuit, remain
ing of some that my wife had packed
for my use couple of days before. I
drank the brandy and munched the bis
cults and felt again hopeful. Six hours?
Why, in that time help might come.
Death was no longer imminent.
But wasentirely wrong. The strong
southwesterly gales had piled up the
waters about the mouth of the estuary,
so that the ebb was checked and the
n0OQ increased anu the Ilue ran out only
some three hours. l must have been
longer lying on the sand, too, than |
had calculated, for as l watched the
waters hurrying down on each side of
me, 1 noticed the current seemed to
slacken all of sudden; then it stopped,
so that a fragment of bleached wood
that was floating downward came to a
rest, then moved slowly once more up
wards. The tide was turned.
In very short time the vast expanse
of waters before me, that had Just now
seemed broad river outlet, scored and
marked with sand banks, assumed the
appearance of an agitated sea. Short
waves hurried along, their white crests
cleaning in the moonlight; they came
in serried lines, tier over tier; the
hoarse roar of the advancing tide rever'
berated in the air, mingling in my brain
with the strange rattle as of bells
that would never cease to jingle therein
/ How remorseless they seemed, these
} waves, hurrying up like hounds who
view their prey. And vet it was =