The Indiana State sentinel. [volume] (Indianapolis) 1868-1895, 1894-04-11
III.

can say before God that when I took
TO my heels my only intention was TO
inform the doctor; but once hearing
sounds as of a woman summoning the
world with shrieks / grew wild with
terror, and. weak and sore as l was from
the fight. dashed over rock and howlder
for the beach, shouting to young CAL
landers, who was standing gazing on
the road
The creek, the creek
The lad was there first. What they
called the creek was a large cave so
deep in water that boat could float in
IL at ebb-tide. and curving in such a way
behind the buttress Of the cliffs that il
was out of the swirl Of stormy seas.
Returning nothing to Peters questions.
except some words of caution for his
own safety, I bade him hustle and get
the craft into The open. This he did
with all dexterity and speed while l re-
traced my steps along the ledge of rock
TO the mouth IF the cave. There. when
the mast was fixed, we exchanged posi-
tions mot without gold passing from my
hand to his). and crying farewells to my
fleeing pilot. l began to pull out TO the
deep. I had several cuts in my hands
from Thursons's knife. and. as 1 strug-
gled on. blur came over my sight, so
that / dared not hoist the sail (the coast
being noted for its dangers), and I would
sit for a minute at a time. rubbing my
eyes and taking i'm my position. At one
of those intervals. / happened to see,
through an opening in the cliffs, num-
Der Of men. one after another running
in the direction of the doctors house.
l made "A jump for the sail. dreading
nothing but those mems hands; and as
1 was fumbling and stumbling at my
job / heard the cries of my puTsuers,
-,o IN 10 GhnTn
and anon stood yelling at me from the
waters edge. Mad hurry made me
worse than blind. and there / was. ever
striving ever failing at the ropes-the
angry canvas futtering thunders about
my ears. the wide sea before me with
Jets and ridges of white in the distance;
behind me fatal rocks, raging enemies,
and that dead man. l stopped to be-
think myself. and Weakened as from L
nightmare What was to hinder me
from putting up that sail. 1t only need
ed a little GOODNESS and the thing was
done: and fierce was the howl from the
land when the sail filled and the boat
sped away.
Before l had cleared the Sl<e1Ties I
had anxious moments, but once fairly
off | burst out roaring and singing like
a drunken man. and il was not till L
caught myself in the middle of a certain
ribald chorus (Which | had never before
breathed and had always objected to-
that ] realized the ghastliness of my
hilaTfty When the fit was over the
sudden silence. broken only by the sound
Of the water tapping against the boat.
brought me to my senses with shock
What was | doing there. away out
on the sea- sailing in that cockle-shell
on a winters afternoon l was he that
sat the night before at the doctor
hearth, the very same man. If l struck
a feIlow-creature to the shedding of his
life-blood, it was a blind blow in the
heat Of Self-defence; and whose blame
was it that there was a knife in the
affair? 1 was no murderer TO go fleeing
from the face of man. Whittier bound.
O steersman? Put about and return TO
the creek Knock, James Murray, at
the doctors door.
The coast was a white line i'm the dusk
Of sky and sea, and behind it was the
sun-a mere patch of blood-red mist.
As I gaZed, the sudden recollection of
my unpaid bill added TO my horror of a
shore where a man lay stabbed by my
hand And what were those pale lights
that flashed and twinkled on the beach
They must be torches and lanterns in
the hands of the villagers. ] watched
them till they disappeared, and before
! turned my eyes away there shot into
my field of vision a brown sail, At that
l gave "A sudden jerk to the tiller and
held out TO sea. 1t was a desperate
course for a man in an open boat, in
the worst or winter weather, ana WITH
out either water or victuais- But wha
was l I" do? With pursuerS on my
track Lerwick was no place for me. II
/ was to escape from Shetland it would
not be by the steamer, but in that same
cockle-shell. There was a chance for me
| if / could get landed at some out-of-the-
way village. where I might pass the
night. and whence on the morrow I
should start for Orkney; and there was
the hope of deterring my pursuers, who
might not be willing to follow me far
| on the way, as it seemed, to no shore
| but death.
The night was dark only from time to
! time there was a vague glimmer abroad
| telling that there was a moon some
where and now there was no differ
| ence between sea and sky. After two
| hours run. ii was not capture ! had tC
fear. The wind had risen, carrying
| flakes of snow, sharp and dry as pow
| dered ice. The back of my head was as
| if grasped in an iron clamp; my hands
were becoming powerless-the one at the
| tiller Though rolled in A handkerchief
| being frost-bitten all over. and the other
swollen with cold and wounds.
| So | came within sight of the coast
| line of Whalsey. and to me no prospect
| of time ever seemed so long as the hour
! I must yet dree on the water ] had nc
| hope nor thought for this world but just
! to set my foot on earth. Yet / was &c
| be denied a shore. even TO rest my eyes
| on. The faint shine that was i'm the
| clouds went out. and the whirling spit
| became a regular snowstorm. | looked
| abroad-there was no sea, nothing but
| gray -thickened darkness. and within it
| as it were, a furious pool. If 1 turned
| nv head the snow that was dashed in
/ in my face burned my eyes like pepper
! Holding the tiller i'm my armpit l bowed
| myself. and just sat to the snow like a
| stone in the field.
Nv.