Green-Mountain freeman. [volume] (Montpelier, Vt.) 1844-1884, 1878-01-23

! was evident lnat lie was the one precious
thing she had still to live for but also
because Of II certain neatness in his dress
III all times and gentleness and refinement
in his speech and manners, which nigh,
have come from that constant womanlv
influence. Many feared that his character
might lack the manly virtues OF courage
and decision; and even his schocmates
when the love of teasing was very strong.
would call him "mother's baby" and
Frankly" laying an insulting emphasis
upon the last syllable, so that he had beg-
ged his mother to call him Frank, which
she did, unless in moment of tenderness
the old baby name Slipped from her tongue
Ii the veteran seamen of the place
could have known the situation of this
iorlorn and shivering trio, what hope of
rescue would they have found in the dis.
abIed Captain, the inefficient Smith, OF the
boy who, according to their prophecy,
would never be good for much brought
up so soft by womcn?"
The clock in the steeple of the village
church struck; the strokes were faint, but
they could count the strokes.
Uncle Charlie, " said Frank, "is that
twelve o'clockp"
Yes"
Don't the tide turn about this tlme?'
asked Josiah.
" 1t has turned" replied the Captain
g it is ebbing now" -
Then" cried Frank, "well 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 perhaps no one will
see MS to-daym
"Frank," " said his uncle, earnestly "keep
up your courage-don't give up NV
miserable head is beginning to whirl, and
| may drop eff soon; but hold on-think
of your mother, Frank, and keep ahoat us
long us 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; but would it be possible to swim
from the boat to the shore, through the icy
water and the wide belt of entanging eel
grass 1t did not seem so far to the Meek
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 not be so mean as TO leave his uncle
,n rt To, 4 :, /,
too?
. Uncle said Frank, " am going to
swim ashore; here we are right opposite
Capt. Wentworth's; | can swim ashore,
get his lory, and come after you and 'Siah
think | can do it; at any rate, | can t
hold on long in this wind, and SHALL soon
be too numb to SWIM"
The Captain was silent-what could he
say? 10 90 or 10 stay seemed equally dam
gerous; but Frank, loosing the hold of one
hand, was already working his stilfened
fingers, and trying TO throw off his boots
in readiness for Il start.
"Gom ssaid his uncle; and God help
you!'
And God did help him us he threw
himself into the angry waters, and struck
out for the shore. He felt resOute, and
confident, wasted no strength in uncertain
hurried movements, but with deliberate
and steady strokes went on. The tide be-
ing almost at the flood, he passed through
the entangling eel-grass with less trouble
than he had feared; on, on, stroke after
stroke, the shore seeming to grow no
nearer, until, at last, with one final, des-
perate effort, he reached the shallow wa
ter; his feet touched bottom, he staggered
forward, and fell upon the sand.
Hardly n minute would he take for rest
the others must be saved. lie 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 ran up
the sands to the boat house and pushed ut
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 some
thing heavy which lay at hand, and show
cred 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 taken away.
Yes, there was the boat, but it was many
feet from the water, and it would be II
hard task for man to drag it through the
deep sand while he was but II boy, nearly
exhausted already by extraordinary efforts
but he hardly thought of all that-he laid
determined hands upon the boat, and it
moved.
Impossil lc MS ii would have seemed to
him at any other time, the boat was
launched; then he took mp the oars-hs
work was almost done. but he must not
rest yet, and, with straining muscles, he
retraced his way over the rough water.
His uncle almost fell into the boat, with
the words:
Frank, you have saved my life. l
could not have hold en- longer"
" But where is 'Siah ?' asked Frank
Poor fellow! I'm afraid he's gone. lie
declared that if you could swim ashore, he
could. begged him to wait until you
could come to take us of. but could not
keep him, | think he went down Just on
the bar yondcr."
Frank shed bitter tears; it was hard to
give up life he had done so much to
save.
They took up the oars and pulled slow
ly 10 the shore. Frank went directly home.
sending what men he met ut once to the
shore; while the Captain walked to the
nearest house, borrowed dry clotEes. and
returned to the shore to direct the efforts
made to recover their unfortunate compan.
ion. Accordingly, the neighbors were
startled from their afternoon quiet by the
sight of Frank, II few wet garments cling.
ing TO him, running ut full speed toward
home. There. of course, he was received
with great surprise, and his story heard
with exclamation of deep sympathy and
thanksgiving, while grandmother and
mother rubbed him, brought dry clothes
and hot drinks, and finally put him 10 bed
among soft blankets, where, tired out, he
soon fell asleep. His mother watched
him for short time rs he lay warm and
rosy, his yellow hair curled by tie damp,
ness into hundreds of little rnglets upon
his dear head, safe upon the pillow at
home, instead of on, the seaweed under the
waves; then, reluctant to leave him, she
went forth upon her sad errand of sympn-
thy to poor Mrs. Smith, and the two
widows, each with baby upon her lap,
wept together. In day or two. Frank
was quite we'll. Of course lie was "a hero
among his playmates, and indeed, in all
the village; but he bore bis honors mod
eStly. pleased that the BOYS never again