The Abbeville press and banner. [volume] (Abbeville, S.C.) 1869-1924, 1891-02-11
CHAPTER XII.
OLA CAPTURED.

Ola Gatrell remained in the room witL
The wounded sea captain, gazing for long
time on his heaving chest and difficult
breathing. 1t was quite apparent that
Captain Gatrell was growing very weak.
Rem O wing him to his own room and bed
had SO exhausted him that he was scarce
ly able to speak.
Ola, with all the tender sympathy of q
Loving daughter, hung about the bed of
Inc dying man and tears trickled down her
Don't cry, honey, said the warm-heart-
ed Mrs. Hatchet. We've all got to die
some time;.yer fathers jest agoin' few
days afore the others, that's all.
But, Mrs. Hatchet, it is sad to think
that he, who had but few days left at best,
should be snstched away in this manner
should die such a violent death"
Poor Ola broke down and sobbed. The
wounded man woke in time to hear her
last words. He sat up in bed and in a
feeble voice called:
"Ola, Ola, my dear child, come here!"
She dried her tears and stood by his
bedside. You have been weeping" the
wounded sailor said, trying to smile, but
twinge of pain in his side drove the
smile away.
Il will not weep it annoys you, father"
she said, sitting down by his bedside:
He gently drew her face toward him,
and, kissing her as he was wont to do
when she was an infant, said:
My child-my dear child for, though
there is no blood relation between us,
will still call you my dear child" He
vas so weak he was forced to stop and
rest, though his feeble arm was Still about
her neck.
DO not try to talk, father" she said;
you are too weak, and your strength has
been taxed too much already"
Il will not talk more than is good for
me, my dear child" he said, pausing for
chill-are you not. Ola?" he asked, his
ewes growing unnaturally bright.
"Of course / am, father; no one would
pretend to say was not, she answered.
His mind seemed 10 wander, and Tor
moment the sea captain muttered some
unintelligible sentences.
Il knew you would not deny being my
child" be finally said. That ship-that
wreci-that storm, Ola-and also after
had been told that my own wife and
child had perished. 1t was my own child
I rescued from the wreck. 1t was my
own wife found dead and disfgured on
the wreck. Poor Ola-my own little
darling--1 must soon 60 and leave
you"
"Oh, father, don't talk so! won't you
try and sleep pagaip?"
-Sleep, child2 l will soon sleep. It
will be the last long sleep-that sleep
that knows no waking. am nearing
port, my sails are shortened, Ola, and
soon III cast anchor in the haven Of rest.
! But you won't be alone.
You are talking TOO much, f.ther.
You must talk 20 more. DO please be
quiet"
Never fear, child; know when TO lay
| to-" the sailor answered. Don't be un.
easy about me, for this old storm tossed
hulk is going into the dry-dock, but you
| will not lie alone. He loves you, dear,
| and he will never fors axe you. He is no
ture's true nobleman. Never did ship
sail under fairer colors.
mo, father, l have no fears of being
| left aloue or neglected. Now 60 to sleep"
He laid his hand lovingly upon her
face, pasted her cheek, and sunk into
| slumber.
Mrs. Hatchet, who h1d stood in the
background while the father and daugh-
| ter were convelslng, now motIoEea Ola to
come away.
She removed the hand which still
rested upon her head and rose without
waking him.
i will so to my room, Mrs. Hatchet, y
| she said.
AS sne was crossing the hal she hearo
the report of gun or pistol toward the
earthworks Oh the southeast. Her heart
bounding with fear, she hastened out to
the piazza in front of the house. All
was intense darkness, but she could hear
q rush of footsteps down toward the line
of earthworks.
A few moments later she caught the
faint CLEAN of lantern and another shot
was heurd.
What is it-another fght?" asked
Mrs. Hatchet, Fastening out upon the
piazza. -,
Il do not know. Did it wake fatheri"
she asked.
No"
Please look in and see if he still
sleeps"
ITO BIZ Continued