Waterbury evening Democrat., 1893-04-07

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 asked, as he turned to go down the steps into the darkness.
 That night the grandfather had burnt fish for supper, and little Marie's slum- per was by no means peaceful. When she slccpily stretched out her little hands to ward off the disturber of her rest, they fell upon n hot face, were caught, and kissed again and again. By daybreak the two rivals had all ready left the island; Karl had sailed for Hamburg on f1shing-smack and Hans Frerik had taken advantage of the tide to float out to open sea. His mate, rough Frieslander of tho genu- inc stamp, drew anchor, and, after the sails were set, the east wind drove the the boat rapidly seaward. The two men and tho half-grown boy who ac- companied them drew yellow oil-skins over their thick friese jackets, the boy at the same time producing demijohn and offering it, with sly grin, to the mate. The latter passed it to Hans Frerik, who refused it with a gesture, and then busted himself with the fish ing-gcar.
 Farther and farther receded the shore, until only the faintest line re- rl"incd visible through the gray morn ing twilight. Against the dreary hori- Aon they saw the lighthouse stand like defiant sca-king, while beyond them the foam-crcstcd waves surged against the sandbanl of Scharharn. Steering one point moro toward the west, they left t" starboard this dangerous bank so dreaded by larger vessels. The quiet of ho of action; many ships that had been lying at anchor now resumed their out ward course. Far and near could be heard the peculiar. half-melancholy, half-arrOgant cry of the busy crews, winch, sounding but two notes, takes the place of n song among German sailors. These trembling tones, min- gled with tho scream of the sea-gulls, swept the leadcn surface of the water, upon which, at intervals, a buoy, cov- cred with scaweed and clinging crea- turcs of the deep, danced at the end of It's long chain. Several times had ob- servant Hans uncasily scanned sky and sea. Heavy clouds of rolling mist hung low over the water. For a;half-hour tho wind had shifted rcstlessly, veering now this way, now that. There was nothing unusual in this, but the un- natural, brazen hue of the unbrolxen cXpanse of upper air, which the rays of the sun, still below the horizon, could not affect, gave the men in the boat cause for anxious doubt.
 It was bad day. Peter Eilt had reason to shake his head thoughtfully over Marya, and to keep little Marie with him that she might not suffer from her mothers strange mood. Under Marya's black hair, wild thoughts ranked lil1e fiery darts; she did her work, as before, singing the same melancholy song. She often stopped with a laugh, shrill as the scream of the sea-gulls that fluttered about the tower, brushing with shy wing against the windows; once the old man heard her talking loudly to herself in words he could not under stand.
 Peter Eilt, the experienced, weather wise seaman, saw nothing good in the ominous change of the weather. After eXtinguishing his lights, he looked out from his high gallery into the early morning twilight, and, as was his GUS tom, offered silent prayer of thank fitness for the quiet night that had en- dangcrcd neither life nor property. He shook his head gravely over the strange appearance of the sky.
 God save us," he murinured: "Hans Frerik will sec it out there and will be horne in time"
 "T wish that he would stay there, that neither mouse nor plank of his de- tested bout would ever again see our shore. 1 wish that I, An6-youi and