The Northern Pacific farmer. [volume] (Wadena, Minn.) 1878-1885, 1881-05-05
THE LADY BLANCHE LIFEBOAT.

though there was big gale blowing out at
sea, with gathering signs of Il storm over
head; and it might be that the ifeboat
would have some work to do before morn
ing.
But what did Peter Pencorrow care about
the lifeboat, except for the salary of Ell
week which he drew as its custodian? No.
body in the village Of Polloot had looked
with kindly eye on the arrival of this fool
ish boat-as they called (which was to
take the Harvesting" out Of their mouths.
For the population were wreckers to man
aud woman, and they termed it harvesting"
when some well freighted ship was driven
on to the great Needle Rock off their coast
and went to pieces
Such accidents happened too rarely for
their taste-once year or thereabouts,
and the booty was often miserably small.
But there had been years within the memory
of some of the inhabitants, who were not
yet old, when dozen vessels of all sizes
had foundered in single winter, and
when tho luck of the wreckers had been
large. 1t was in winter of this kind that
old Peter Pencorrow had m de his fortune.
He was young then, and it was said that he
had picked up package of diamonds from
the Brazil as his share Of the spoils. Any
how, he disappeared from Polloot, and
went to live in London, like gentleman,
as some supposed; though others affirmed
that he ran through his money pretty fast,
and went through multitude Of queer ad-
ventures afterwards. twenty-five years
after his departure he returned to the vii
lage with boy sixteen and girl one year
younger; and soon afterwards he was ap-
pointed custodian of the ifeboat Lady
Blanche, when had been presented to
Polloot by the rich and good Cornish Earl,
and christened after his favorite daughter.
Peter Pencorrow was not liked at Polloot.
It was said that he had "blown the gaff.
He was accused of having, while steward
on board an old steamer, told number of
who were returning home from a tour in
America; insomuch that my lord and his
daughter had made vow to dedicate
ifeboat at once to the salvation of human
life. There was some talk of blasting the
Needle Rock, and erecting lighthouse on
that dangerous part Of the coast. Engineers
had come to take soundings, and their oper-
atoms had been watched with sullen wrath
Harold Treeorpe, the biggest, most scowl-
ing fisherman in the village-a fellow whose
face looked murder, and whose mouth
never opened without a curse-had sworn
that if he hanged for it Pencorrow should
never live to see life saved by his boat
nor vessel warned of danger by the beacon
of a lighthouse. Before long, however,
Peter Penco1row ceased to be SO much
hated. He was worthless scamp, always
drunk, and his chosen companion came to
be Harold Trecorpe, who had several times
threatened his life. Drunken men are not
dangerous, save to themselves, at least such
is the popular idea, and Harold used to
laugh an odd mocking laugh when anybody
talked of what things the Lady Blanche
would do with her signals, her rockets, and
all her costly and complete apparatus for
salvage the first time that vessel stood in
peril of touching on that dangerous Needle.
Three year spassed, ard the ifeboat did
nothing. They happened to be exception
ally disastrous years from the Pollooters'
point of view, for though wrecks enough
took place on other parts of the coast, no
craft of any consequence foundered on the
Needle. By this time Harold Trecorpe Was
captain of the lifeboat's crew. He and sew
en- other men received G12 year apiece
from the Earl to go out practicing some
times with the boat, and to hold themselves
in readiness at any time when their services
might be wanted. If they saved lives, they
were to have each bounty of 81 pound on
every human head rescued. Nay they were
to have fifteen shillings, too. for every dead
human body they brought to shore. Thus
had the Earl and his daughter tried to enlist
the cupidity of these men on the side Of
humanity, hoping, may be, that some high
er agencies would work too for the reclaim
ing of population as barbarous and de-
based as any in these isles.
Peter Pencorrow lived in pretty house
which his patron had built for him near the
large white shed where the ifeboat was
kept. There was pharmacy in the place,
with two rooms holding three beds each,
which were to be reserved for half drowned
men and women who might be drawn out
of the sea; and there were great number
of useful appliances for restoring lives that
might be just Pickering out. Sometimes
the village to see if everything was in good
order; but since their carriage could be
seen five miles off as it wound down the
steep road on the rock side, leading to Pol
loot, Peter and his daughter Meg always
had about an hours notice to set things tidy.
Peter now lived alone with his daughter
Margaret His son had left him in disgust
to enlist, and Meg only remained with
him because there was nothing else for her
to do. She had been cursed at and cud-
gelled by him all through her childhood;
she had been his drudge, his scapegoat in
every one of those drunken fits of his which
required daily, and her body bore marks of
brutal kicks he had given her when she
was little thing, with limbs still tender
and weak. But now she had grown up to
be tall, strong girl, with tanned face
and determined look, so that Peter was
afraid of her. He used to hide his money
from her, as bad boy does from his moth
or, and if she wanted anything for house.
hold expenses she had to search his pock-
cts when he was dead drunk. However,
more than thirty pounds out Of his fifty two
year used to melt in drink. and Margaret