The Worthington advance. [volume] (Worthington, Minn.) 1874-1908, 1878-04-11
PRUDENCE GRAY.
An knelish Girls story.

AA8AAoA
That's my name, for father said there |
wasn't better barge on the river than the
Prudence, and if I was called the same
he was sure there would be no better
girl. |
P6os father! He was always very fond
of me, and my earliest remembrances are
Of sitting on the tiller and having ride,
whom he'stood there Of An evening steer
ing the barge, with the great cinnamon
FED sail filed out by the wind, and the
'Waicf ;foaming and bubbling by US as we
ran on up the river towards the big city,
weese the ships lay close together in
dock and against the wharves, cmptying
thar loads or waiting for others before
going away across the seas.
used to think our barge, which was
very small billy boy, if you know what
that ia--if you don't, I 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 90 out to sea little while running
along the coast used to think our
barge, say, very, very large ship, till
grew old enough to compare it with
those that passed US going up or down
the riAer, and then it used to seem TO me
that it would be wonderfully fine to 60
On board one of those great ships and 60
sailing away-far away-across the ocean
instead Of just coasting along to Sheer
ness, and up the Midway, as we used to
60 year after year, loaded deep down in
the water, whit 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
cabin with tiny stove; all know
is that I was very happy. and that never
hardly went ashore, and when l did
was frightened aud wanted to 60 back;
and at last / seemed to have grown all at
once into greaI 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 were sitting on the
cabin-hatch, before I could believe it was
any thing but terrible 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 pull at u
rope, the same as did when father want
ed any help.
Father was changed man after that,
and as couple Of years slipped by, the
work on the barge fell more and more in
to my hands, and used to smile to my
self 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 filed whenever 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 wanted much help. for ours
was only small barge, and once started,
with a far wind, l could manage her
we'll enough; while when we had to tack
backwards and forwards across the river
mouth, I could always lock the tiller by
the rope that hung on to the Delaying pin,
and give it hitch on this side or that
side, till had taken pull at the sheet
and brought the barge round on the other
tack.
must have passed half my life in those
dsys 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 out mead as we glided along
ever the smooth sea, passing buoy here
and light there, giving other barges and
smacks wide berth, and listening to the
strange squealing noise Of the gulls as
they wheeled and lowered and swept by
. me, 10 closely sometimes that could al
most have touched them with my hand.
,0ur!barRe was we'll known about the
mouth of the river, and far up beyon the
bridge; and somehow, don't know how
passed bad always kind hail, or wave
of the hand for US, as we glided by, if we
Muge too far of for the friendly shout to
feachus.
Sometimes I'd run the barge pretty
cl5se 10 the great ships and steamers, in.
ward Or outward bound, so as to look at
tho ladies saw on board; not that l cared
to do 10 very often, because it seemed to
make me sad, for the faces I looked on
seemed to be so different to mine that I
felt as i'll was another kind Of being, and
it uaed to set me wondering and make me
2taiAk; aud ut such times I've leaned
against the tiller, and dreamed and dream
"a, in a waking fashion of how I would
like to read and write and work, a. had
seen ladies sitting and reading and work
ing, 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 my dreams all pass
ed away.
Idon't think poor father meant it I'M
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 shipshape,
lest the owners should come on board
and see things slovenly, and find fault
with father and dismiss him, and that I
knew would break his heart. So I worked
on, and in dull heavy way father used
to thank me and the time glided on, till
one day, a. we were lying off Southend
with. the sea CLASSY and not wind enough
to fill the sails, felt my cheeks begin to
burn - leaned back against the tiller.
and would not turn my head, because I
could hear q boat being sculled along
towards us, and I knew it was coming
from the great leeboard barge lying
Hes coming to see father" said to
myself at last. In choking voice; and as
hail came was obliged to turn, and
there stood up in the little boat he was
sculling with an oar over the stern, John
Grove, in his dark trowsers, blue jersey,
and scarlet cap; and Is I saw his sun
burnt face and brown arms and hands,
felt my heart beating fast, and knew he
was not coming to see father, but to sec
me.
We had hardly ever spoken, but I had
known John Glove for years now, and we
had nodded and waved hands-to one an
other often and often as we had passed
up and down the river.
"Heave us rope, my las" he said, a.
he came close in; and l did it dreamily,
and % soon % I had done 20 began to
pull Il back, but it was too late: he had
hitched It around tho thwart of his boat,
q and was up and over the side before