Wood County reporter. [volume] (Grand Rapids [i.e. Wisconsin Rapids], Wis.) 1857-1923, 1896-11-26

1T is not possible that you are sc
superstitious as to"
Not superstitious, Mr.. Aymescourt.
Call me a fatalist. if you will: I only
report the unerring record of the past
Since the time l mention I have been
! a sort Of wanderer TO and fro on the
face of the earth. I hear other people
talk of home; to me it is the merest
! catchword'
"But-''
Stop a minute said Dayrel. lower
ing his voice and laying his hand light
| ly on his companions arm. DO you
| see that young fellow by the cabin door
the tall, handsome man, who has a
smile for every one?"
| Yes
THAT is he-the man who married
Mary Armitage."
Does he know
THAT I am his defeated rival? No.
He has talked to me of his wife at
home-of the two little children count
ing the days till his return-of the
bright hearthstones where the Thanks
giving fires are all ablaze, and l have
listened and answered him Yea and
Nay with the calm philosophy of a
stole. After all, there is a certain
grim humor in the game called life"
Aymescourt looked sadly into the
stern face.
and does this please you?
please me? Yes-about as much as
it pleases the writhing hospital patient
to feel the surgeons knife. I could
have murdered that man more than
once and felt it no sin. You need not
start; the Cain-like impulse has passed
away l am quite harmless now Only
you cannot expect a man to feel kindly
towards him who has wrecked his
whole future
And Dayrel turned away and re-
sumed the slow, measured walk UP and
down the upper deck, which his casual
meeting with Aymescourt had inter-
rupted.
And all this time the Forest Queen
was ploughing the yeasty tides nearer
and more near home
Captain Ross had calculated that the
brisk little craft would ride into the
rockbound harbor of the Maine port,
to which they were consigned, early on
Thanksgiving morning.
It'll be close rum" said he; "but
somehow don't like the idea of spend
ing my Thanksgiving on shipboard. 1t
isn't orthodox, as Deacon Posey would
say" And the captain laughed
And just at the gray break of dawn,
when they could almost hear the
church bells ring through the fog and
darkness, there went thrill andquiv-
er through the Forest Queen from stem
to stern-a sudden pulse, like the
beating of a heart. Guy Dayrel started
up in his berth and tapped at the board
partition which separated his sleeping
reighbOr.
'Aymescourt" he cried, wake up!
There's something wrong"
Aymescourt started from his dreams.
Wrong! What is it?''
eve have run aground somewhere,
or struck a rock. Stop-don't ask any
more questions. Keep your breath and
strength; they will both be needed
Dress as quickly as you can"
When Aymescourt came on deck,
amid the darkness and chill and con-
fusion, he could learn only one fact
that the ship had struck a rock, and
was fast leaking away her life.
"But you incident be so alarmed,
ma'am,' said the captain to a pale
young mother, who was kneeling on
around both of her children. eve
can't be far off from Wayne's Beach,
the floor of the deck with her arms
and our sailors would know the way
through these shoals if you were to
blindfold 'em. We have two good life
boats. It's only leaving the Queen
to go down by herself"
The captain rubbed his sha ggy sleeve
lightly across his eyes as he spoke,
and then turned away to issue the
necessary orders
The ruddy shine of sunrise was tip
Guy Dayrel thanksgiving 2
ping the waves with crests of carnelian
when the first lifeboat made off,
manned by true hands and fearless
hearts.
Make haster' the captain called to
the men who were preparing to launch
the last. She's filling fast"
How long do you think she will
last?'' asked Guy Dayrel, calmly.
Half an hour, perhaps-not long
err"
The passengers crowded into the
boat with the headlong haste of those
who are fleeing from death, and she
was full, while two men yet stood on
the deck of the fated vessel-Captain
Ross and George Vassar, the man
whose bright eyes had stolen Mary
Armitage away from her first lover.
An old sailor started up from his
oar.
Captain! Cap1ain This mustn't be!
Take this oari I'm not such a lubber as
to save myself and see you perishr'
sit down, sir!' roared the captain.
Do you suppose discipline isn't disci-
pine now just as much as ever it was?
1 am captain of this craft and l mean
to stand by her to the last. Only"
turning to Mr.. Vassar, as the discom-
flied old salt dropped down into his
seat, I'm sorry for you, sir! have al
ways expected some such end as this;
but you"
George Vassar had become deadly
pale. He clasped his hands to his