People's voice. [volume] (Wellington, Sumner County, Kansas) 1890-1917, 1894-04-06
"M.I wife. I"

Let me bring him. There. there, little
one, let the man have the rope. Come
to father"
The sailor gently took the rope away
from the child, saying, in apology
"lt's the rope to the tackle. The
Captains give orders to hist the stuff,
whatever it is"
"Hoist what?"
"We dunno, sir. Something the
divers hitched on TO just fore il, fore
it happened"
Slowly, with strain;ng ropes and
creaking blocks, the engine on the for.
ward deck dragged up from the depths
OF the Sea-something.
The curiosity to see what had been
found drew all, save young Mr.. Royal
fardstickie and his wife and child, to
the edge of the deck Slowly, drip.
ping and straining, the ropes rose our
OF the water. Then through the green
depths came strange, crooked form,
black and rusty,-a broken anchor.
AT last it lay upon the deck and they
all gathered around it to examine it.
Only broken anchor.
Get some cloths and wipe it dry.
Wipe it very carefully, and look fol
marks" said Breeze johnson.
Already the day was dying. The
eastern sky was purple. The wind
had fallen, and the sea was as glass.
The schooner, heeled over by the strain
in lifting the anchor, now rested on an
even keel. The west was all q rosy
glow, presaging pleasant days to come.
The black buoy stood straight in the
water, silent. Lanterns were procured
and they got down on the deck to
search every inch of the rusty relic OF
the dead ship For some time nothing
was found; and then it was suggested
that the anchor be turned over, to sec
the other side. The engine pulled
again, and the anchor was soon dang.
ling in the air. As it was gently laid
down again, Capt. Breeze Johnson's
keen old eyes detected something close
to the ragged end where a fluke had
been broken off.
A name?
No. Only few letters
A little gentle rubbing away Of the
rust, and there were visible letters
stamped or cast in the iron.
Il see S and o, yes, and N and
a Z. One letters missin'."
"a 7. Is it T, CaptainP"
"Mebby it is, Judge. S. T, o, N, E,
Stone.
SIS that alp"
The Judges voice had a curious
tremulous quaver, as if he were trying
to repress some strong emotion.
"Yes. There was more once, but it's
rusted off"
do you think it can be-Maid-
stone?"
The old man stood up and wiped his
eyes with the back of his hand. Not a
word was said for a moment. At last
Sam broke the silence.
Father, where is that name
board?"
'It's to hum, Sam. I've kept it all
these years,-thank God. can get it
when we go ashore"
Mai" said the Judge, gravely,
'how can l tell you? How can | ever
thank this young man, who shall be
my SOM Listen"
A strange trembling was in the old
mans voice. He barred his head, and
his white hairs seemed a nimbu.
the fading light By some curious in.
stinct the men all took off their hats,
as if some religious rite were at hand.
There was brief pause, and then he
went on:
"The ship was the Maidstone, OF
Liverpool. 1t was my wife's last
home; she sailed in this ship years ago
with her child, and the vessel was
lost"
stop there, SIR" said the old pilot.
"Stop there. l was at that wreck, and
| done "a passenger great injustice.
When we found that passenger she
was wrapped in woman's night-dress,
marked with name that we knew
from things in the state room was the
Captain's name. Mother always said
it would kill-the passenger-if she
was to know her father left her to die
in his own ship; she'd die O. shame in
thinkin' of her father"
Somehow by stealth beautiful girl,
made doubly beautiful by lore and
happiness, her eyes shining with a new
love just born, had crept closer to the
two men. She stretched out her hands
towards them both.
"Father-both fathers-harkr'
She stood between the two old men,
erect, listening, beautiful.
The night had f >eu in peace on the
sea. No sound OF surf or wave VIZ,
anywhere. Yet by some mysteriou,
sympathy there was \ sound, soft,
musical, vanishing. They all heard
1t; nor could any tell whether it was
upon the air or only in their hearts.
Listen, father. 1t is-my mother
singing in heaven"
And the buoy was dumb.
THE END.