Staunton vindicator. [volume] (Staunton, Va.) 1860-1896, 1888-11-16
OFF THE HEAD LIGHT.I

1t was chill, foggy evening in Septem-
Der; the sea rolled in against the rocks in
great, sullen, gray waves, seething and hiss
ing over the seaweed; the light looked spec
trail and ghostly. I turned out the lamp.
Far in the east rosy tint crept into the mist.
went on the iron balcony around the little
tower. While l stood there l thought of my
dreary life-the only son Of poor fisherman
drowned off Seguin light that fickered in the
fog miles out to sea. grewup in that small
village, went to school until I was IL, then
began to fish with the mackerel catchers.
Like other lads, had hopes and ambitions
for the future; but mother needed me, SO l
worked for her. Three years ago-I was %
now-I was appointed lighthouse keeper on
this peak of land guarding the entrance from
the sea of the wide Sheepscot. I remem-
bered, with no pleasure, Kitty Robbins,
school teacher over at the bay. Mother
wanted me to marry her. well, only
wished to please mother; but Kitty ought to
do better than marry poor light keeper.
s'Come dearie; breakfast is ready!" moth
er's voice called, and l went down to the
house connected with the tower by long,
low shed. I look at mother; she is worth
mans best years. A tiny, straight figure,
quaint and trim, black gown, neckerchlef
as white as snow, white lace cap over her
snowy hair, pale rose tint on her soft,
wrinkled cheek, and eyes as bright and blue
as the sea. Women age fast in our bleak
life of early toll, and she was 40 when l, the
last of five children-all dead but me-was
born.
ssThere's speck out there like boat" l
said, stopping to kiss her. Before go to
bed I'll look again. There was a nasty sea
last night"
''The Lord pity the sailors at seal" qua
vered mother, thinking of that shipwreck off
Seguin. She poured my coffee, fidgeted about
awhile, then went to her bedroom. She came
back with her spyglass.
s'I'll just go back dearie. like to get the
mornin' air from the tower, an lawful me!
eff there should be poor human creetur adrift
out there!'
Dear heart! l think of her prayers and
long hours of watching nights when great
storms roar around our headland, where the
mist from the fretted sea is like furious
rain She came back shortly, trembling with
excitement.
''There is something white in the boat,
Gideon, like woman scarf"
l left my breakfast untasted, running out
to the shore with the glass in my hand. The
boat tossed and wavered like o live creature
on the foam tipped waves, while in the moan
ing wind scarf or some loose drapery blew
out like a signal of distress. 1 hurried to
launch the big yawl that had weathered many
a sea- was bare headed and in my shirt
sleeves.
"Here, Gideon: here beE' There she was
my mother. She had shawl folded over
her shoulders and tied behind: over her cap
was fastened bandanna handkerchief. She
held out my cap
''You are not going" said, sharply.
eyes l be, son; sum'uns got to steer, as she
falls off SO, an sum'un must keep lookout
for'ard" She jumped into the boat, taking
the helm in her brown, wrinkled hands. A
fine, brave figure. bent my strength to the
oars 1t was wildish pull; for, though the
wind blew on shore, it was ebb tide, making
a rough, choppy sea. wasted no effort to
look ahead, and she kept the boat steady, and
SO we soon gained on the speck
We finally reached the speck, and it proved
to be an open boat. Mother fastened the
painter to it, and did not turn my head.
The wind freshening, rowed hastily to
the shore. Our landing was miniature har-
Dor, tiny cove sheltered from the sea by
frowning rocks at either SIDE Here was
smooth water-only "a long, CLASSY roll. l
st-od up to look at the strange craft. 1t evil
IDENTIFY belonged to yacht, was dainty and
trim, painted white, with Dolphin in gold
letters on the side.
"Mother," cried hoarsely; ''there is a wo-
man in the boat!"
81 know it, but didn't want to distract you
out there Land me on the seaweed. I'll run
and get the fire up. The poor creetur' may
yet be alive"
pulled the strange boat upon the sand,
and then with beating heart l stopped to
look. Under the seats of the boot, where a
rifle of water splashed to and fro, was a wo-
mans figure, slight, though tall, covered
with a cloak of golden plush-though then I
did not know what the rare stuff was that
cleaned in tints, like light, through q col
ored window. It was lined with soft, white
fur now draggled and wet with sea wa
ter. Over the womans head was a fine lace
scarf, one end of which was loose and
had waved signal of distress in the wind.
She was 50 still and white that ! thought her