Savannah courier. (Savannah, Tenn.) 1885-1979, 1893-08-03
A STORY OF TIE SEA.
As Told by Crazy Nell to Sum
nler-Day Visitor

acngers cnn land and have one hour to
inspect this typical New England fish
ing village, with Its queer, rambling
streets, It's ancient houses, its old
wharfs, once the scene Of activity, now
silent and deserted" etc.
| stood ut the end of the landing
place and looked down the long street
with the walk on one side and the har-
Dor on the other, then turned TO watch
the crowd rush past to take the town
by storm, staring in at the windows of
the houses, ovcrrunning the quiet little
graveyard, intruding everywhere; in
fact doing everything that rude, van
dal excursionists do the world over.
"Desecratorsr' | thought, ''how shall
! avoid you? Here take what sup
pose to be EN- out-of-the-way trip to an
out-of-the-way place to get n little rest,
and, II possible, new ideas, but instead
of quiet boat and leisurcly sail, you,
the great uncouth, overfowing with
animal spirits and lunch baskets, are
before me, yea, your crumbs are upon
me, and the marks of your children's
clammy hands and the sound of their
anguished sobs are even yet mine"
After which elegant apostrophe |
desperately struck into struggling
side street, and in a few short moments,
to my astonishment, they were left far
behind.
stopped and looked about.
Behind me the town lay, a narrow
fringe of gray, colorless houses
bordering the inner harbor. Here
and there a thin penciled column OF
smoke rose straight up as from a fire
in desert, the air was SO still and hot.
Before me stretch of binding
yellow sand, sparkling with glints OF
amethyst and pearl from the dis.
integrated sea shells which formed
part of the drift that lay heaped up in
odd, monstrous, angular dunes, tufted
with occasional punches of vivid green
wire grass; q veritable sea serpent's
lair; domain of desolation.
Beyond, sea SO calm, SO translucent
that the horizon line is lost, melted
away into the sky.
A monotonous droning filled the ear,
reminding one of the cicadas of Prov
ence From some shipyard came the
dull-measured stroke of q caulker's
hammer, sounding like the tapping of a
woodpecker; again the peep! peepr'
of sand bird; these are the only evi.
dences of life. The spell OF sleep is
over everything, and l stand looking
unconsciously right ahead till the sud-
den noise of the excursion boat blow
ing off steam arouses me, and I see a
low cottage, the last on the lane, sur
rounded by meager yard fenced with
driftwood held together by pieces OF
rigging.
Before the door is pretentious porch
orarbor constructed of the gray, bleach
ing ribs of a whale, An enterprising
morning-glory vine is endeavoring to
envelop and clothe its ghastliness, but
it protrudes and stands out from the
Aabby, sun-killed wreaths like whited
sepulcher. A cobble-stone walk edged
with pink conch shells completes the
dreary ensemble.
am about to turn back to the town
for It is notvery pleasant padding about
in the shifting sands under the broiIinp
sun, when l see little crouched-ur
figure sitting on block of wood in the
shadow Of an old dory, and so much the
color of the surroundings as to be al
most unnoticed.
1t is woman, gray and bent with
years, looking fixedly at me with queer
canny eyes, her lips moving as sh.
counts the stitches Of the knitting il
her hands.
push open the gate on its rope hinge.
and enter. asking politely for drink
of water. Never stopping she nod.
toward the we'll. help myself ant
then sit down near her, remarking
This is beautiful day."
"Sun draw water In the mornin'
Sailors take warnin',"
she answers, never taking her eyes of
me. 1t was SO unexpected l started
but rallying said:
well, a nice fresh breeze wouldn'r
hurt u.s."
In sad, monotonous tone, she re
piled:
"when winds blow freshrcross the main
And mist scuds up from the lea,
There's apt to be some rain
And choppy sou'east sea-"
We'll, well," ! laughed, pleasantly
though / didn't feel mite that way
you're quite q rhymster, mother; go
verses for all kinds Of weather"
The laugh seemed to please the ole
sybil for an instant, then the small eyel
grew sad again and she said, noddinf
toward the village:
"Stayin' below?"
mo, just came down and going righ
back"
"Then nobody sent you here?" lean
ing forward.
mo; just strayed this way to avoit
the crowd. Why do you ask2"
"They send people here to bother me
They say I'm crazy, crazy Nell, 20,
know; ever hear tell of her?"
"No; but tell me, mother, how d.
you live in tins wilderness?"
"Al the day knit stockin's an NIT
an lots of nippers for the fishermen t.
wear when they're fshin'. They're no
all bad. They give me food and thing
for them, sometimes little tea; bu
it's poor life, lad, poor an sorrow
full life for old crazy Nell, with only hel
thoughts and the seas means for com
pany; an death passes me, that only
longs to 60, and takes the young an
strong, that wants to live; but the day
Is nigh at hand now; soon will see my
Malcolm, my bonny boy, my husband
gone, lad, gone, gone, and only married
one day; think Of it, me all alone
alone for forty weary winters and fort,
wearier summers waitin' to die an e
to him. Do you think he has forgiven
me?"
Suppose you tell me your story"
said, gently, rather touched by he
plaintiveness-