The Wichita daily eagle. [volume] (Wichita, Kan.) 1890-1906, 1902-08-07
THE "FLEuR DE LYs.v

last week Il lay upon its side. TO z ten
! acre truck garden, two miles nearer the
| bay. The cottage was swept inland by
! the great tidal cataclysm which slew
1900 people and destroyed $50 900 90 worth
| OF property in Galveston and its vicinity
! two years ago. The cottage on the main
| land. which Is now about 10 be re-
| stored 10 its former humble station by
the sea. was once the home of a strug
| Cling truck farmer named Peter Quincy.
On the night OF the disaster when his
| doors and windows were beaten in by the
| orrushing waters, he put his wife and
! three children in his skif and resolved to
! stand by his cottage. The sLiff. driven
! inland upon the black crest Of the tidal
wave. piIoted by the hands of a boy then
| ii years old, outrode the hurricane and
/ went aground ten miles from tidswater.
| Quincy. in the garnet OF his cottage, was
battered. dishgured and drowned when
/ the sea swept his frail house from its
piling and drove il. caDsIzed. through
| the wreck Of head.ong waves and wind
driven ruin.
When she had found his body and the
water had receded, the woman buried her
| husbands body in the little thicket that
! skirts across a corner Of their farm.
! Then she turned her face toward the west
and said she would go beyond the reach
OF the waters and their ominous dirges.
| Her oldest child. who is almost a woman.
/ said, Let US 60" but her youngest, who
/ is a boy. and his sister. who is now i.
| said, Nanny, let US stay. This is our
/ home. The sea was never like that be
/ fore. Let US stay" Perhaps they stayed
/ because they had no means for travel.
\ They had no horse nor cart. no boat Of
| size, no choice of egress. But the woman
/ and her children made a lean to- OF
| crift from the storm and dragged into il
what remained of their household effects
! The boy worked as few men worked and
his sister. who was Is years old. gave him
heart and praised him and said, We
must stay" When spring came they
made a garden again. and every morning
the boy went Grabbing in the bay. and
looking out across the turbulent floor OF
the gulf. spoke to ii, and said: Il viii
get back all l can" At noon he started
In his row boat. out across the blue run
ming tide, for the smoky Galveston shore,
and at dusk he came back. tired with his
eight-mile pull but proud OF the money
that he got for the crabs and the garden
truck. and proudest Of Nance. his sister
who went with him, sitting at the tiller
and ''minding'' the boat while he went a
selling his wares uptown at the fremont
and the Pickwick. When May had passed
he had money enough to buy some hens.
and then ne added fresh eggs 10 his
small cargo, and his business throve 50
that his mother wondered and took cour-
age, though she Kept her face toward the
burrows in her garden and was afraid
TO look upon the sea.
One day a creole from Mata gorda sailed
his greasy, fsh-smelling lugger into the
slip at Galveston and made fast 10 the
docks. Then he put a sign on his mast
which read. For sail, s25," and went to
be cook in dingy clearinghouse in the
Strand. Upon the stern Of this odorous
lugger in drab letters upon dirty green.
was thee vessels name. F'leur de Lys Of
Matagorda.
The other day I wandered down the
Strand TO the slip where the Mosquito
fleet lay shimmering in the sun. Beyond,
against the outer dock, lay the irOn-clad
Ikball an English ship. loading for Liver
pool with rice and cotton. At the corner
OF the slip was dry goods box. with
bit of awning above it. a iy-specked
glass case upon il, and behind 1t a sun
burnt, black-eyed. slim girl Of perhaps Is.
who was ladling out ice cream and lemon
ade to a gang Of sweaty stevedores. Gil
gantic negroes. swarthy Portuguese. grin
ming Irishmen. stolid Dutchmen. bought
treacle candy, watermelons. ice cream and
lemonade and pulled their forelocks. or
touched their oily caps when she spoke 10
them. Across the warped front Of this
stand was the sign, Polly Quincy.
Refreshments
Just beyond her, moored to the docks
lay the F'leur de Lys. the deck green with
melons, red with chains of red peppers.
ornate with piles Of peaches, gorgeous
shells and cut flowers. Forward there
were coops of spring chickens. and aft.
under an awning in the shade, were cases
of ''new-laid" eggs.
Some buyers came down TO the Fleur
de Lys for crabs. which the young skipper
fetched up from the hold in wet sacks.
/ watched him crate some eggs and load
them irZJ a wagon from the Pickwick
cafe. Then he went back 10 his little
vessel and began to haul up his crab
nets. unloading his clawing. clicking
catch into a ready basket. In the waits
he would fish for mullet, fixing his line
when an occasional customer came along
side and sometimes hopping up on the
docks 10 visit Polly. his sister. or 10
Stake his thirst with a dip at the lem
onade. This is George Quincy, a boy Of
y. and it is his home which the con
tractor is rolling back over two miles Of
Doggy lowland to the little ten-acre farm /
which is his heritage and his home. In
two years he has saved enough TO pay for |
the Fleur de Lys. and has set aside the I
hundred dollars which he would pay for
the ehabilitation OF his home.
1 don't know whether this is much OF I
a story" l watched this boy set sail the |
CLutr Jay NAtu the sun Was SETTING anu I
there was a mysterious mist that hid /
the far headland TO which he gees every /
night. He keeps his uusold stun in a re- !
frigerator near the old fish market. and I
comes back each morning with a new 1
supply. But it was the manner Of the I
child as he sat IN the stern-sheeIs and /
close hauled his mainsau 70 make OF from 4
his mornings, that struck me. 1t was 4
the old-fashioned, mannish boy Of bust i
ness no longer. He laughed at Polly, I
who went TO tend jib. and he laughed /
as IL he was only a boy at play 7 saw 4
him stand up. his foot against the tiller. !
and look out across the tumbliug waters /
OF the gulf. as il he loved them. II may I
have been the going home. OF the sheer I
delight OF sailing his own ship boldly /
forth into the sea, but L was not the cal
culating satisfaction OF g good days I
business" Hope. courage, happiness was I
In his face. The Fleur de Lys swept 4
round the docks and cut into the tide and /
stood away. her brown sails reddening as
the slanIing sunlight fell upon them. the \
boat careenins as the south wind came
Quartering strong against her. but sailing
swift and true and seaworthy like the
little. bTown-faced master az the helm.
And when they were gone into dim
blur I could hear Polly singing ana The
hoy's hooking laughter.-John Il Raj
tery.
The Cowboys Virgil.
fNictor Smith in the " y. Press
Georze Handy Is IN towa-tenderfoot
from Colorado. Originally he was q ten
derfoot IN Colorado from New York