Daily Yellowstone journal., 1886-11-14
A NIGHT AT SEA.

Just of the coast of New Hampshire,
n1ne miles out at sea from the charming,
sleepy old town of Portsmouth, the Isles
ef Shoals lift their grand, storm beaten
granite lodges alike in clear and cloudy
weather, enduring with unmoved serenity
Ill the changes of calm and tempest.
In winter the snow mantles the gray
rocks with the purest white, and they
lie there, eight white spots In the dull,
gray winter sea, under duh gray win
ter sky Then they are desolate indeed,
cut of from the great, busy world
around them, sometimes even from one
another, by the wild storm tossed waves
that beat upon their rock bound coasts
as they have beaten for ages,
But in summer, when the sun has had
his way and thawed out the ice bound
hedges. and warmed up each little crevice
and nook, then the stern granite breaks
forth into a smile Of flowers and tender
green. Wherever handful OF earth-a
pinch eyen-can find a lodging place, there
shines some unexpected beauty. And the
best of IL is, that when they have once
started, the island flowers don't know
when to stop blooming, and keep right
ON in glad, hearty fashion, till winter
ends the show with his sharp and cruel
breath They make no account Of sea
sons and the fashions of their inland sis
ters The wild rose runs rioting over the
rocks, blushing with shy delight in the
salt sea air, hobnobbing in easy good fel-
lowship with the golden rod and aster,
in utter ignorance that her pale faced SIS
ters of the main land are long ago dust
hot ph. pb N ba If Qha
cared at all to be Sin style"
Down in the narrow clefts where the
sea washes in, and in the shallow pools,
grow the most brilliant sea plants, lovely
with bright brown and green and crimson
tints.
But life is not all calm and sunny
my story is tale of storm, and calm
coming after the storm.
On jutting headland of Star island,
a man stood peering anxiously out into
the gathering dusk. His rough, seafar
ing clothes, and weather beaten, bronzed
face plainly showed his calling.
Over in the northeast the clouds had
been piling, black aud threatening, and
the fleet of fishing schooners that every
fair morning sail out of the little cove
on Star Bland, had come reeling home
before the first blas sts Of the northeaster.
Dan Kicker had secured his ''Seagull,
and hastily climbing the nearest high
ground, stood gazing with keen and
weather wise eyes, now into the rapidly
thickening clouds, and now at the "Sea-
gull plunging and straining at her
cables. With his hands thrust into his
pockets, he seemed not to heed the howl
ing. shrieking blasts that swept across the
rocks and dashed the waves into q fury.
The force of the wind grew stronger each
moment, and huge drops of rain came
driving before it, A small hand slipped
under his arm.
II saw the Seagull come in, Dan. Are
the boats all in.''
Dan threw one arm round the tall. 1.-THE
form of the girl, who clung close to him
rs fierce blast struck them, threatening
70 carry even the sturdy fisherman off
his feet. The girl gathered her shawl
still closer round her head, as the wind
howled aud roared and shrieked, as IL
all the fiends of the air had been turned
loose to the work of destruction. The
raving, dashing waves lifted their crests
of foam and hurled themselves against
the granite cliffs with an ever increasing
avalanche Of fury. And over and under
and through all the roar and rush came
dull undertone of thunder. The girl
shuddered. "Hog island was cryin' this
afternoon, and Grams says TO look out for
q storm. there's going TO be wild work to
night. Are the boats all ins'' she de-
manded sharply. "Why don't you tell
me, DAM Is father ins''
The girlish face that was turned TO the
fisherman was young and pretty, though
Drowned and freckled with the sun and
wind, but there was strained, anxious
look in the clear, gray eyes and lines Of
care too deeply indented in her forehead
to be accounted for by the trouble of the
moment.
And was there not causes Was she not
q fisherman's daughter and a fisherman Is
sweetheart To stand upon the shore
and strain eyes and hearts. too. watching
for father and brother. sweetheart. hus-
band and son, and to pray that the white
sails. which come flying i'm before the
dreaded northeaster, may reach the little
harbOr before the waves run too high
for them 10 enter-that is the common lot
of the women of Star island. Poor wives
and mothers! they know only too well
what il is 10 watch the swaying masts of
a the schooners anchored un Ter the lee of
the island when the waves form an i'm
pasSHhle barrier to the safe shelter Of the
cove.
Tossed by the rough sea. cold. wet.
hungry and sleepless. the men ride out
the storm. while the night blots out the
slender masts from the sight Of the anx-
ious women who stand in desolate groups
upon the shore. They cannot tell from
hour 10 hour whether the strain of wind
and wave may not prove too strong for
the cables, then destruction is sure, as
the trcacherous rocks of the New Hamp-
shire coast bear ample evidence
The women cry out in despair and wiring
their hands, and the wind roars and
browns their cries, and the rain drives
them indoors to watch and pray till day
comes ana shows them their treasures.
No wonder they are white haired and old
before their time, for the terror of the
ocean is always before them.
But the men love the sea, and they
love their boats, their graceful white
winged schooners that fly at command
over the ripping, sunlit waves, or
"tOugh it out" in storms, and bring
them in their daily fare Of fish,
But to night the little hamlet on Star
island may rest peacefully, for the boats
are all riding safely in the cove.
Dan turned from watching the Sea-
gull. ~ don't know" he said with the
deliberate drawl Of the Yankee fisher.
man. ,,whe'r or no she's goin' TO stand
She's pretty piece of wood, but she won't
never ride this safe. I'm a-goin' out tC
her, she's hove too short"