Troy weekly news. (Troy, Idaho) 1897-1933, 1906-09-28


had been the progress of the schooner
under the steady breeze. and the ocean
stretched around black and desolate.
Gazing upon this gloomy expanse, Ru.
fus Dawes observed a strange phenom-
enon-lightning appearing to burst up
ward from the sullen bosom of the sea.
At intervals, the darkly rolling waves
flashed fire, and streaks of fame shot
upward. The tone of woman's voice
recalled him to himself. Cautiously I'M
locking the cabin door, he peered out.
The cuddy was lighted by swinging
lamp which revealed Sylvia questioning
one of the women concerning the storm.
Locking the door, he proceeded hastily
to dress himself in North's clothes He
would wait until his aid was absolutely
required, and then rush out. In the dark
ness Sylvia would mistake him for the
priest. He could convey her to the boat
If recourse to the boats should be rem
dered necessary-and then take the haz-
ard of his fortune. While she was in
danger his place was near her.
From the deck of the vessel the scene
was appalling. The clouds had closed
in. The arch Of light had disappeared
and all was dull, windy blackness. Gil
zon and sweep toward and upon them
1t was as though the ship lay in the
vortex of a whirlpool, so high on either
side of her were piled the rough pyra-
midical masses of sea. The vessel lay
almost on her beam ends, with her helm
up, stripped even of the sails which had
been furled upon the yards. Mortal
hands could do nothing for her. BY
o'clock in the morning the gale had
reached its height.
The sea, pouring down through the
burst hatchway, tore the door of the
cuddy from its hinges. Sylvia found her
self surrounded by a wildly surging tor
rent which threatened to overwhelm her.
She shrieked aloud for aid, but her voice
was lnaudible even to herself Clinging
to the mast which penetrated the little
cuddy, she whispered a last prayer for
succor. The door opened, and from out
the cabin came a figure clad in black.
She looked up, and the light of the ex-
piring lamp showed her face that was
not that of the man she had expected to
see. Then pair of dark eyes beaming
ineffable love and pity were bent upon
her, and a pair of dripping arms held
her above the brine as she had once been
held In the misty mysterious days that
were gone.
In the terror of that moment, the
cloud which had so long oppressed her
brain passed from 1t. The action of the
strange man before her completed and
| explained the action of the convict chain
ed to the Port Arthur coal wagons, of
the convict kneeling In the Norfolk ISL
and torture chamber. She remembered
the terrible experience of Macquarie
Harbor. She recalled the evening of the
boat building, when, swung into air by
stalwart arms, she had promised the res
cuing prisoner to plead for him with her
kindred. Regaining her memory thus,
all the agony and shame Of the mans
long life Of misery became at once ap-
parent to her. She understood how her
husband had deceived her, and with
what base injustice and falsehood he
had bought her young love. No ques
ton as to how this doubly condemned
prisoner had escaped from the hideous
isle of punishment she had quit occur
red to her. She asked not-even In her
thoughts-how it had been given to him
to supplant the chaplain in his place on
board the vessel. She only considered,
In her sudden awakening, the story of
his wrongs, remembered only his marvel
Gus fortitude and love, knew only, In
this apparently last instant of her pure.
Inflated life, that as he had saved her
once from starvation and death, so had
he come again to save her from despair.
The eyes of the man and woman met
In one long, wild gaze. Sylvia stretched
out her white hands and smiled, and
| Richard navfpa understood in, hfe t,,r,,
the story of the young girls joyless life,
and knew how she had been sacrificed.
In the great crisis of our life, when,
brought face to face with humiliation,
we are suspended gasping over the great
emptiness of death, we become conscious
that the self which we think we knew so
well has strange and unthought-of ca
pacities. To describe a tempest of the
elements Is not easy, but to describe a
tempest of the soul is impossible. Amidst
the fury of such a tempest, a thousand
memories, each bearing In its breast the
corpse Of some dead deed whose iniiu-
ence haunts us yet, are driven like feath-
ers before the blast, as unsubstantial
and as unregarded. The mists which
shroud our self-knowledge become trans
parent, and we are smitten with sudden,
lightning-like comprehensions of our own
misused power over our fate.
This much we feel and know, but who
can coldly describe tho hurricane which
thus overwhelms him7 As we'll ask the
drowned mariner to tell Of the marvels
of mid-sea when the great deeps swal-
lowed him and the darkness of death en-
comprised him round about These two
humsn beings felt that they had done
with life. Together thus, alone In the
very midst and presence of death, the
distinctions of the world disappeared.
Their vision grew clear. They felt as
beings whose bodies had already per
ished. and as they clasped hands. their