The Worthington advance. [volume] (Worthington, Minn.) 1874-1908, 1897-04-08

SA1A6AS AAAS' wv AoN JuS9o AeseG r. ~>S
and thanksgiving, in which all, from
captain to cabin boy, had joined most
heartily, assembling together as one
man before Gods footstool, and had
scattered again to our different posts,
where the storm had left us much to do,
when again noticed Archer and Will
liams standing together, the latter's
hand resting almost caressingly upon
Archer's shoulder.
One seemed so powerful, the other so
weak, so slight, that, incongruous as
their friendship appeared, it yet, after
all. was but following. out the law OF
nature-the weak leaning upon the
strong.
Just them an order came from some
one to go aloft and stow the foreroyal
as it was darkening to windward and
looked as though we might have a light
squall.
Archer sprang forward to obey the
command, but somehow Williams got
ahead of him. He was so very light
and had grown so accustomed to the rig
ging that he was like asquirrel. Archer
made motion to detain him, but before
his hand could reach him he was far
beyond his grasp.
Higher and higher he went, my eyes
following him with a strange fascina-
ton for one accustomed to such sights,
until he reached the yard, laid himself
out upon it, seized hold of the canvas
when something came whirling through
the air; something struck with dull
thud the deck at our feet; the yardarm
was empty.
Great heaven! For one instant there
might have been heard pin fall; then
the men came trooping forward. Archer
was the first to reach him, the first to
look into the white, still face, on which
death seemed already to have set it's
seal. Then a groan burst from his lips
of such mental agony as never before
had heard, and he fell forward in I'M
consciousness by the boys side.
Motioning the men back, we carried
the poor body as tenderly as we might
and Laid it on a vacant bed in the cabin:
There the doctor and myself permitted
no one else to enter. We threw open
the coat andmnlaced the shirt, when the
mystery was explained.
Williams was a woman-a woman
who, for love of q man, had done this
thing. Poor, suffering child! Had
she atoned with her life? There was
little hope, the doctor said, but such a
pity had risen in both our hearts that
we would not despair; and at last the
t'ark-brown eyes slowly opened, looking
around. as though seeking some one not
there.
1T is Archer I whispered. and, go
ing forward, found he had recovered
from his swoon, and was as one frantic.
I babe him follow me.
''You know all, captain?" he ques-
toned. "She is my wife. Poor little
girl; she ran away with me, and would
follow me everywhere. Will she live %
''There is little hope" answered.
I'VE will do for her what we CAM
Then we entered the cabin, and such
look of rapture as crept into her eyes
as they rested on Archer's face I have
never seen before, and expect never to
see again. Then we went out, and left
them alone.
Fifteen minutes later entered the
room. He was kneeling at her side, his
face buried in the pillow. while one
hand rested caressingly on her head.
Touching him on the shoulder, mo-
toned him out. A painful and a dan
Gerous operation had to be performed,
which, if she survived. would permit
hope of recovery. kept the poor fellow
with me during that time. and he told
me the whole sad story.
"She loved me, Captain, but her pa-
rents looked down on me and would
not let us meet. 1t was wrong, know,
but she was so young, and she said she
could not give me up, and I-ah! now
l know what the world will be to me
without her; but we were married. I
have the certificate in my trunk. left
her all comfortable in q little room I
had hired for her, and shipped with you.
I had to do something, sir, and nothing
else offered. she-poor child, was so
lonely, so desolate, that the thought of
the weeks she would spend alone mad
dened her. She followed me, in dis
guise. as you know, and Lob! Captain,
l had not the heart to blame her, since
She did it for my sake. Ihave protected
her from harm. from injury, until now,
when-''
A groan finished his sentence, when
the door softly opened, and the surgeon
entered.
1T is better than I hoped for-she
may live.'
The days which followed were full of
anxious watching, but the young life
at last conquered; but not until our
ship had made it's homeward voyage
was the poor girl able to raise her head
from the pillow on which we had lain
it as sadly Us in it's shroud.
But when, at last, with tears of graft
tude and broken words, she, leaning on
her husbands arm, passed from our
sight, the memory of her heroism and
heart-devotion taught us forgetfulness
of her faults, and the blessings which
followed them were in many cases
roughly uttered, but in all heartfelt
n. Y. Ledger