The Somerset press. [volume] (Somerset, Ohio) 1873-1977, 1878-05-09
OUR STORY TELLER.
JOHN GROVES COURTsHIP.

the Prudence, and if 1 was called the
same he was sure there would never be
a better girl.
Poor iatherI He was always very
fond of me, and my earliest remem-
brances are of sitting on the tiller and
and having ride, when he stood there
of an evening steering the barge, with
the great cinnamon-red sail filled up by
the wind, and the water foaming and
bubbling by us as we ran on up the
river toward the big city, where the
ships lay close together in dock and
wharves, emptying their loads or wait
ing others before going away across the
seas.
used to think our barge, which was
a very small billy-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 carry
ing loads up rivers, but built alo to be
able to go out to sea little while, run
ming along the coast-I used to think
our barge, / say, a very, very large ship,
till grew old enough to compare it with
those that passed us going up or down
the river and then it used to seem to me
that it would be wonderfully fine to go
sailing away-far away across the
ocean, instead of just coasting along to
Sheerness and up to Midway, as we used
TO go year after year, loaded down deep
in the water with pottery or hops, or
even bricks.
can't tell you how my child-life slip
ped away, living with mother and
father on board that barge, in little
bit Of n cabin with tiny stove; all l
know is that l was very happy, and
that never hardly went ashore, and
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 had been
ashore at Sheerness, father and l, and
came back from the funeral and we're
sitting on the cabin hatch, before l
could believe it was anything but ter
rible dream, and that / should not
wake and find that she was alive once
more, as blithe and CHEEKY as ever,
ready to take the tiller or a pull at a
rope, the same as / did when father
wanted any help.
Father was a 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 L used to smile to
myself as | 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 filled when
ever he went ashore, aud then sit with
it in the cabin all alone till 1 called him
to come and help with the sail.
Not that | wanted much help, for
ours was only a small barge, and once
started, with fair wind, | could man.
age her well enough; while when we
had to tack backwards and forward,
across the river mouth, L could always
lock the tiller by the rope that hung OF
to the Delaying pin, and give it hitcf
on this side or that side, till had taker
a pull at the sheet and brought the barg,
round on the other tack.
| must have passed half my life il
those days leaning back against tha
tiller, with its end carved to look like
great acorn, and the name of the oil
barge, Prudence, cut deep in the side
There I'd stand looking out ahead as W
glided along over the smooth sea, pass
ing buoy here and light there, Civ
ing other barges and smacks wild
berth, and listening to the strang
squealing noise of the gulls as the
wheeled and lowered and swept by me-
so closely sometimes that could almo:
have touched them with my hand.
Our barge was well known all abou
the mouth of the river and far up b,
yond the bridge; and somehow, don
know how it was, the men on the diffe
ent boats we passed had always a kin
hail or a wave of the hand for us, as "
glided by, il we were too far of for tl
friendly shout to reach us.
Sometimes I'd run the barge prett
close to the great ships and steamers, il
ward or outward bound, so as to look
the ladies l saw on board; not that
cared 10 do so very often, because
seemed to make me sad, for the faces
looked on seemed to be so different
mine that l felt as if was another kin
of being, and it used to set me wonde
ing and make me think; and at sue
times I've leaned against the tiller ar
dreamed and dreamed in a waking fas
ion OF how / would like to read ar
write and work, as had seen ladies 81
ting and reading and working, on IL
decks Of the big ships, under the aw
ing; and then had to set nv dream
aside and have pull at the sheet or tai
reef IN the sail, because the wind fres
ened and my dreams all passed away
don't think poor father meant it u
kindly, but he seemed to grow more al
more broken and helpless everv da
and this frightened me, and made \
work to keep the barge clean and shi
shape, less the owners should come
nd al C,
fault with father and dismiss him, al
that | knew would break his heart.
i worked on, and in a dull heavy W
father used to thank me; and the tir
glided on, till one day, as we were lyi
OIL Southend. with the sea CLASSY al
not wind enough to fill the sails, / f
my cheeks begin to burn as / lean
back against the tiller, and would I
boat being sculled along toward us, a
knew it was coming from the great l.
board barge lying astern.
He's coming TO see father" / said
myself at last in choking voice; a
as hail came was obliged to turn, a
there stood up in the little boat he v
sculling with an oar over the stern 10
Grove, in his dark trousers, blue iers
anu otdhiCe zap hhu as Il saw his 81
burnt face and brown arms and hand
felt my heart beating fast, and knew
was not coming to see father, but to
me.
We had hardly ever spoken, but
known John Grove for years now, q
we had nodded and waved hands to {
another often and often as we had pas
up and down the river.
" Heave us a rope, my lass" he s
as he came close in; and / did
dreamily, and as soon as had done 9
began TO pull it back, but it was
late; he had hitched it round the thw
Of his boat, and was up and over
side before could stir; and then
stood looking down upon me, whi
felt sometimes hot and sometimes CT
and as if could not speak.