The Vermont watchman. [volume] (Montpelier, Vt.) 1883-1911, 1884-12-10

even his SchOOlmateS, When tne love OF
teasing was very strong, would call
him % mothers baby" and " Frankly"
laying an insulting emphasis upon the
last syllable, so that he had begged his
mother to call him Frank, which she
did, unless in moment of tenderness
the old baby name slipped from her
tongue.
If the veteran seamen of the place
could have known the situation of this
forlorn and shivering trio, what hope
of rescue would they have found in
disabled captain, the inefficient Smith,
or the boy who, according to their
prophecy, would never be good for
much, brought up so soft by women?"
The clock in the steeple of the vii
lage church struck; the sounds were
faint, but they could count the strokes.
"Uncle Charlie" said Frank, is
that twelve O'Clock %
| eyes"
| "Don'tt the tide turn about this timer"
asked Josiah.
"It has turned" replied the captain;
&" it is ebbing now"
"Then." cried Frank, "we'll 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 per-
haps no one will see us to-day"
| Frank" said his uncle, earnestly,
" keep up your courage-don't give up.
My miserable head is beginning to
whirl, and l may drop off soon; but
hold on-think of your mother, Frank,
and keep afoat as long as 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 dar-
ling 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
grass? 1t did not seem so far to the
" Neck" and there was no dreadful
eel-grass on that side to catch his feet
and drag 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 he be so mean as to leave his
uncle, without an effort to save him, and
poor 'Siah, too?
Uncle" said Frank, " ! am going
to swim ashore; here we are right OPP
posite Captain Wentworth's; l can
swim ashore, get his dory and come
after you and 'Siah. l think | can do
it; at any rate, can't hold on long in
this way, and l shall soon be too numb
| to swim"
| The captain was silent-what could
he say? To 90 or stay seemed equally
dangerous; but Frank, loosening the
hold of one hand, was already working
his stiffened fingers, and trying to
throw off his boots in readiness to start.
| "Go!" said his uncle; Z" and God help
you!'
And God did help him as he threw
himself into the angry waters and struck
out for the shore. He felt resolute and
confident, wasted no strength in uncer-
tain, hurried movements, but with
deliberate and steady stroke went on.
| The tide being 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
|
last, with one final, desperate effort, he
reached the shallow water; his feet
| touched bottom. he staggered forward
and fell upon the sand.
Hardly minute would he take for
| rest-the others must be saved. He
| sprang up, waved his hands towards the
distant boat to show the men that he
was safe, and looked about-no boat in
sight; he ran up to the boat house and
| pushed at the door-it was locked!
Here was difficulty he had not fore
seen; it would take at least twenty min
utes to run up to the house for the key
and return; twenty minutes lost, when
every one was precious! He seized
something heavy which lay at hand and
showered frantic blows at the 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 hard task for man
to drag it through the deep sand, while
he was but boy, nearly exhausted
| already by extraordinary efforts; but
| he hardly thought of all that; he laid
determined hands upon the boat, and
it moved little.
Impossible as it would have seemed
to him at any other time, the boat was
then launched; he took up the oars
his work was almost done, but he must
not rest yet, and, with straining mus
cles, 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 held on longer"
| But where is 'Siah?n asked Frank.
" Poor fellow! I'm afraid he's gone.
He declared that if you could swim
ashore he could. begged him to wait
until you could take us off, but / could
not keep him. / think he went down
just on the bar yonder."
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
slowly to the shore. Frank went di-
rectly home, sending what men he met
at once to the shore; while the captain
walked to the nearest house, borrowed
dry clothes, and returned to the shore
to direct the efforts made TO recover
their unfortunate companion. Accord
ingly the neighbors were startled from
their afternoon quiet by the sight of