The midland journal. (Rising Sun, Md.) 1885-1947, 1891-08-14


bringing food and clothing, and as the
time passed the village babbled with
dark prophecies of shipwreck for
Eric, and conjecture as to the fatal
phases of this strange race for life upon
the sea. The men at Eric's wharf
where he had been foreman of the
lumber leaders so long looked many
times each day towards the west,
thinking of their absent leader, and
wives and mothers standing at the gates
or in the doorways of the cottages upon
the heights about the bay thought
often of the lonely family over on the
head, and turned their eyes earnestly
towards the far horizon line.
On the seventh day the wind shifted
and lulled, and just before sunset the
mother came wearily down the path
and stood looking out upon the shining
flood. Her heart seemed numb with
longing. When would she wake from
this dreadful dream?
The children were playing down on
the sand below, and suddenly Carl gave
shout of joy; the mother looked up,
and there, seeming not three miles
away, was Eric's boat! She gazed,
trembling from head to foot. Yes, it
was surely Eric's boat, battered and
with the sails patched and torn.
Breathlessly she hurried down and came
among the children, where, whispering
and clinging to each others hands, they
waited at the waters edge.
just when the sun was sinking Eric's
yacht swept through the mouth of the
little bay. The children held their
breath, and the mother strained her
pale face outward. She did not see the
men waving their hats up at the
wharves, nor the wives and mothers
watching from the yards and doorways
about the bay. The boat was all there
was in the world to her. How slowly
it came! Was Trave and her lame boy
there? That was Erics face, and there
was his brave companion. What other
object was that lying on a litter in the
bow? The woman shook as with an
ague, but even while she trembled and
questioned the boat rounded on the
CLASSY field and swept up to the land
| ing by the head, and Eric, battered
and worn, leaped out and made it fast
But the woman did not see him; she
was clinging to the side of the boat and
| straining her eyes down upon that
muffled figure in the bow. Men came
running from the bluff, and the plat
form was gently lifted out, and there
| looking like death itself, lay Trave
Armor, clothed in his rags and the dying
light of the day.
The woman threw herself upon her
knees beside him and called him pite-
ously; the children crowded forward
with frightened whispers, and the men
stood about her with averted faces. In
a moment, in answer to her calling,
Armors eyes opened weakly; then with
kind of cry, he tried to lift himself
toward her, but was all too weak.
"Oh, Trave," moaned the woman,
where is Paul? Where did you leave
him?"
HE was lost, Lucy! He was lost! He
saved me, but he-was-lost!"
The woman stared at him moment
blankly, then with cry of desolation
she hid her face upon the sick mans
breast and wept.
Very gently Eric lifted her up and led
her away to the hut upon the cliff. The
men slowly followed bearing the mah
upon the litter, and laid him down in his
came in with the village doctor. The
physician placed flask of whisky to
the exhausted mans lips, but when it's
fumes smote the patients nostrils, such
a look of terror, hatred and loathing
came into the sufferers face that the
doctor fell back before it in wonder.
"Take it awayl Destroy it!' hoarse-
| ly cried Trave Armor. ''Don't We, for
the love of Heaven, ever offer that to the
like of me! Do ye expect to heal me
with poison? Oh, think what it has
done to us!" and his rage fell into a
broken-hearted moan. Don't ask me
to drink it," he said, "for I've been in
sane! I've tasted the second death!
Don't ask me to go no further!"
Kind hands and sympathetic hearts
brought food and words of comfort to
the lonely place that night, and as the
days went by the story of Paul Armor's
heroism spread from mouth to mouth.
His father would never drink again,
they said; his thirst was dead; love had
followed him, and in the face of blows
and injury had brought him back and
turned his feet toward the peaceful
kingdom of a virtuous life.
Time passed. The saws in the big
mills kept up their mellow hum, the
schooners sailed in and out the little
port, and Trave Armor lay sick in the
hut upon the hill. Slowly his strength
came back, but his heart was like lead
when he thought of Paul, and the
mothers feet dragged heavily as she
went about her work. One day he
called the sad woman to his bedside
and said, very gently: Lucy, ken we
hear it now? Mebby We could bear it
better if ye heard once how brave our
poor boy went down"
The mother sat down and hid her
face against the pillow by his head, and
he went sorrowfully on:
Il guess abused him afore it hap
pened. 1t all seems like an awful dream
now, but guess tuck the money from
him ye earned awashin', an struck him,
too; but was crazy, Lucy! The drink
did it! Then L don't remember any
more, only that left him lyin' white
land dead down there where we met,
tin | came to myself that night away
lout to sea, For awhile, Lucy, ! thought