Evening Star Newspaper, October 31, 1896, Page 17

NON OHOMINON Part I. ‘We were camping on the eastern shore of Ogden’s Island, just south of Spruce Head, where the stmmer hotel and cot- tages are. All the afternoon we had heen beating down the bay against a heavy sou'wester that kicked up a big sea on the ebb tide. We were cruising in Frank Shirley's little sloop, the Laura, a fast boat and able enough, but as wet as a raft. ‘There wasn’t a dry stitch of clothes aboard of her when we came to anchor under the Jee of the island, and every fellow’s face | had a coating of salt on it. The tender, that had been fighting for its life In our wake, brought us ashofe, though we four boys, with our bedding and “grub,” loaded ber to the gunwales. Then came supper, “I've been hearing it for the past five minutes. Hark!” and afterward a great and glorious fire on the bea The sun set red as blood, from the fiaming sk: could not see the west. There was no dew, and under the black wall of spruce trees growing on the bank behind us the air Was like that of a close room. Our clothes had dried while we were gathering fuel for the fire, and when the flames at last leap- ed up through the white heap of driftwood and bleached stumps of trees, we sat well back from the heat of it. as we knew ove us, though we “Steve,” said Shirley, addressing bis par- ular crony, Walter Stevens, while Har- ry Mason and I, being only “kids,” pre- pared to listen deferentially, “Steve, this reminds me of the night when the house on Western Island blew down. reference. Frank and the ruinous old their story. get out house been they got out just in time. the and—a ing to warned in a dream dream was vouchsafe ed a supernatural ce I had first hea tion of eir- cle of the firelight seemed to grow smaller: I could feel the black grove draw nearer to me, whispering; and the voice of the great Lay repli “I've always thought that you were lying that, Steve,” said “Harry, with frank: ess: “but somehow I don’t y tonight. It seems as if al- y might happen down here among these islands. I can hear ten thou- sand different ghosts talking out there on | the bay. : he r one of them mighty plai ly,” interrupted Steve. “i've been hearing it for the last five minutes. Hark!” | aw him rise up to the length of his from the white sand, and in the fire- his face showed pale and earnest. “I hear it,” whispered Shirley. “it's like voice. There! all heard it that time, and it brought } us to our feet. Again, as we stood ther fa’ ar-away cry from the sea ¢ shivering to land. We ran around the f and faced the bay. For my part, it seemed | as if I had run against solid darkness. I had been had staring into the heart of th only to catch and his glist “sweater.” The contrast of the dark was like blindn Then I saw our rhadows on the shore, which showed brown | between them, and at last the white hull ur boat wavering ghostlike on water. Once more the cry trembled | fire its | ning the | said Frank, in a low voice; and he and Steve yelle ce from the wate them. In a moment they were dragging the Httle t her as soon a nder down the beac We all tum- ; bied a It ut = stone's thre to the Lue was dead low, and we } on a hold shore. We were all bpatmen, and no time was Wasted in falling over one another on the sk She had never been got under sail | in quicker time. We buoyed the rode with | the t jer, mn up the jib, and had the | she began to came down on us, heavy and as soon as we cleared the land. not felt it under the lea of ihe and had taken for granted that it down with the sun, as is the rule Maine coast. But that particular | WWester Wes not amenable to any rules | er I heard of; it followed its own Hot ard dry, Ike a blast from an it came rushing out of the clouds, as we receded, seemed to rise out and behind us, bl: and ominous. kK was ut the helm. We had r : If a mile or more from the land, | yet we had seen nothing that could ¢ lain the ery, nor had we heard It sinc our moorings. Then, il from Steve, a clear voic y_ neat cried Steve. “It's a girl ina her come to a lit Frank p out the boat at that instant. She n 1 color of the wood and y on the ter, but the was waving something white, and which first caught my’ eye were swooping down on her like a In a moment I could make out the figure pla! he was alone. The ea, but the high at. so the shore. r with her?” I asked. led Steve. “Can't nd.”* ne girl called out to ¢ if we would help her get back She did not seem to be very much ned, though without help her situa- girl's tion would have been perilous to the last degre for there was nothing to prevent her drifting out into the middle of the bay the little islands re there are h to knock the bottoms out of oats in the world. , I know that votc ‘ g his voic . Miss Wood Don't be alarm- nd up!" he added, earn- t sit down and keg still, and run alongside 2 all k 1 said Steve, © Woodward. She was right girl whose home he and oer mother had in our town. At pres- they were with some friends at the d Hotel. Shirley and Steve had ent Spruce i been desperate rivals for her favor, and their maneuvers had been observed’ wich great ‘nterest by Harry and me. One of us, at least, considered himself very hard- ly used by fate, in that he had been born about two years too late to enter the com- put his helm down;“we rushed up into the wind. It seemed to me that we Were going to miss her. “Frank, what's the matter with you?" erted Steve. The next instant we ran past the little boat like a shot out of a gun. “All right, Alice,” Frank called out. “We'll be with you In a second.” ‘The Laura filled away, and immediately We were out of hearing. “Who's going in that boat?’ Frank. “Aren't we going to tow her?” I asked, innecently. inquired A SAT WATER. MRL BY EVERETT HOLBROOK. (Copyright, 1896, by the Bacheller Syndicate.) | rough on Frank Shirley. | from the shore at a great rate. Men “Probably not,” said Shirley, in a pecu- Har tone. “She's one of the hotel boats. Scmebody had better-get aboard, and row Miss Woodward home. Then he can walk back to camp." “Well, I thought Id just naturally do that myself,” remarked Steve. “What's the matter with me?” was the immediate rejoinder. “We haven't much time to discuss the question,” said Steve. “Odd or even?” He thrust some coins into my hand. “Odd!” said Frank, as he put his helm hard a-lee. I subsided into the bottom of the boat and counted the coins. There were six of them; and I so declared. “That settles it,” remarked Steve, with infir'! satisfaction. “I take the rowboat back. “Blast my blasted luck,” growled Frank. We were flying down toward the rowboat again; but this time Frank took more lee- way. Once more we roynded to. We should have run alongside her ‘without breaking an egg,” as the phrase goes, but, unhappily, our previous error had impress- ed Miss Woodward with doubt of our sea- manship. She tried to help us; and every- bedy knows what happens when a girl tries te help matters on the briny deep. We had headway enough, but Miss Woodward thought that we weren't going to fetch her. So she suddenly seized the oars, which were still in the rowlocks, and took an amazingly stronge stroke backward. Frank put his helm over, but he was not quick enough. Just as we rose on a sea, the port quarter of the rowboat hit us a shuddering thump under the starboard bow. Steve. who had tried to fend her, grabbed her by the rail, and hauled her along the weather side of us. Instantly Miss Wood- ward scrambled aboard the Laura. “@h, Walter Stevens!” she exclaimed, “how did you happen to be here just at the r.ght time?” Was it you who was camping on the shore? Of course it was. I went out right, Alb Frank called out. We'll be with you in a secon to row all alone. Goodness! I didn’t have any idea how hard the wind was blowing. ou oughtn't to have come oui alone,” said Steve. “I wonder they let you do It. ‘Nobody knew,” replied the girl, with a “I stole the boat. Ard oh, it w in the darkn under the shore. just scared enough. But before I it I had drifted quite a y out, the wind began to blow dreadfully. I rowed and rowed, but the land kept get- ting further and further away. Then I terribly frightened and I began to ream. I saw your fire on the beach, and 1 hoped you would hear me. This is a real rescue, such as one reads about, and I'm ure I'm as grateful as any girl can be.” “Don’t mention it,” said Steve. It struck me that all this was rather The Laura was his boat and he was sailing her, but Steve Was getting all the thanks. The luck was ceriainly with him, so far, He had now the right to take the rowboat back, and it seemed as if Shirley were to have no | shere in the adventure, even while Miss Weodward remained aboard the Laura. I began to wonder how long that would be. There we lay, hove to alongside the other boat, and both were drifting away Shirley | showed no sign of doing anything about. He stood like a statue his rival and the rescued maiden shouted in the of the sou'wester. It was Steve who brought about a change in the aspect of the situation. “If you'll get aboard your boat Alice,” said he, “I'll row you back hotel.” the helm while again, to the “Can't I go in this boat, Frank?" cried the girl, addressing Shirley for the first time. “I like sailing so much better than rowin iling is more fun, I'll admit,” said Steve. “But rowing ts a good deal safer on a night Iike this.” “I guess I can keep the Laura right side up,” remarked Shirley. i'm not afraid,” exclaimed th “Oh, very well,” said Steve. the rowboat. He reached for the bow painter, “It's going to be rather unhand that big boat,” said Shirley. “Suppose you row the tub back to the hotel, Steve, girl. We'll. tow | and walk around to camp.” “Wh mean— “Even!” said Shirley. Without a word Steve sprang into the rowboat. “It's so kind of you, Walter!” erted the girl, as the two boats fell apart. “There goes a fellow who knows how to lose a bet,” sald Harry Mason in my ear. “The bet was on the boat, not the girl, luckily for Frank.” “Tend that jib sheet, boys,” exclaimed Shirley, and in a second the Laura filled away on the starboard tack. The wind was moderating, and the night d grown much lighter since we left the sere. A rift In the cloud was passing over us, and though no star gleams strug- gled through an auroral light from the regions that are above all storms filtered down to us. It made the wooded island loom more darkly, while the biack and rugged clcud rising behind the land became a continent of gigantic mountains, upon which, here and there, lay white masses ke mists in the hollows. It was a grand and beautiful sight, but I did not like tre way Frank Shirley looked at it—and ‘Hen at Miss Woodward. It was he who was responsible for her befng there, and I fan- cled that the clouds to windward looked blacker to him on her account. Part Il. We held the starboard tack for only a quarter of a mile, and then came about. From the point where we tacked we ought to have been able to fetch the boat land- Ing in front of the hotel. It was a run cf about a mile and a half—a matter of a few minutes. There was no reason to be afraid. The wind, as I have said, had gone down considerably, but there was enough of it to keep the Laura's lee rail awash. Miss Woodward had been shifted to the weather side when we tacked, and she was prob- gasped Steve. rou don’t : ably not very comfortable on a narrow seat tilted at a somewhat violent angle. “Can't I eft on the other side?” she ask- ed. “I like to be down near the wat Of course Shirley raid “certainly!” and the girl shifted her position. She leaned over the coamings and watched the black water rushing by us. Suddenly she ex- claimed: “My, it’s all wet down here!" “I thought you might get spattered,” said Frank. “You'd be dryer if—" “It isn’t the spray,” she cried. “It's in the boat. There's a great pool I got down into the bottom of the boat in a second. The water was ever the floor. As we had bailed the boat dry after coming to anchor and had not shipped a halg a pailful in spray, the conclusion was obvious that there was a leak. “I guess*wé must have opened a seam when we hit that boat,” said I to Frank. “Bail her out, boys," was the skippers orders. It took Harry me about a minute to Giscover that the water was coming in fester than we could bail it out. g * said I, “the leak is on the star- board le of her, and while we're on the rt tack it is pushed down into the water. Bring ber about and I believe we can kezp er dry.” 7 t ne gat his hetm down, and we came up into the win “Spake her; Harry," he said, as the boat filled away. “Now give me a hand, Bert, and I'll see what I can find. “Don’t be alarmed, Alice. There's no danger. He leaned out over the weather rail as far as he could, and felt along the planks. “There's a hole in her,” he whispered to me a moment Jater, as he sat up on the coamings. “It's well out of water while we're heeled over to port as we are now, but when we come about—” ae left the remainder to my imegina- "t hold this tack all the time,” “We shan’t fetch the end of the We'll run clean out to sea.” .“A short hitch or two will work us in to the land,” he replied; “but as for getting up to the hotel, we can't do It.” * “I wonder if Steve is within hailing dis- was his answer; and then, all together, we shouted as loudly as we could. A moment later Steve's voice came to us across the waves. The faintn of the sound showed that he was further away than might have been expected. Doubtless his wrath had lent him strength to pull. Though we were sending our voices against the wind, we succeeded in making him un- derstand that we wanted him to come back: or so we judged by his response. “Bring her about, Harry,” said Frank. “We'll stand in toward him. I believe Bert and I can keep ber afloat all right.” Our fair passenger wished to lend a hand in the bailing but there was. not room euo.gh for two of us to work easily. No sooner were we on the port tack than the water began to run in as if the boat's bot- tom had been a sieve. “We can’t stand this,” “Hard-a-lee! At that moment the wind seemed ‘to cease, and all the noises of the night were hushed. Then came a_ strange and great sigh from tke land. The sigh became a mean; all the trees of the island were serding up a cry to heaven. Above them the white masses from the cloud moun- tains fluttered like birds, and swept out over the sea. “The squall! cried Frank. ‘Hold ner ‘n the wind! Clear away that sheet! Bert, get the jib off her. Cut the halyards!’” I already had my knife in my hand. I sprang forward to the mast, severed the jib halyard with a stroke and setzed the downhaul. Frank was busy with the matn- sail It was too late. The boat’s head was swinging away to port. he wind caught her as she stocd almost still; and as she heeled the water in her rushed to leeward. In a second we were on our beam ends. We all cried out, but I heard only the girl's voice—not even my own. I saw Frank spring toward her. He held her by the shoulder a's both went over in a tangle of floating sail. Then, like a trick of the stage, the whole scene changed. I was alone in the midst of the waves, in the rush of the wind and the spray, with the keel of the boat under me. How it hap- pened to be there I did not know! I had simply leaped up and away from the wreck to windward. A clock does well enough in your home or in a church tower, marking minutes and hours. But that isn’t time. It goes fast or it goes slowly; but it doesn’t stop, and so you don’t understand it. When time stops you begin to know what it is. I thought of everything in the world and out of it. J thought of my three friends, and vividly recalled many words and acts, seemingly trivial, that had made them what they were to me. They were under the water drowning, and I perceived what life was to each of them, and what it was to me, who would yield it up a little later than the Yet a wave just before my eyes had not time to break, nor the line of its w: crest to tremble in the wind. It was hope that made time begin again. While I accepted death as if it were a said Frank, Iwas alone 1 the midst of the waves. change accomplished, I enjoyed the priv- flege of the dead, for whom there is no time. But hope whisperéd that I was to live, and then tke wave broke, and the wind flung the spray of it into my face. I heard a voice right beside me—a gasp- ing, choking voice—say: ‘Take hold of the boat. She'll float you.” It was Shirley's voice. He had risen from the depths, and not alone. He still held Miss Woodward by the shoulder, as I had seen him clutch her when the squall struck us. She was not frantic with fear, nor did she struggle and exhaust herself, as women are supposed to do in siich emer- gencies. Shirley seemed to be suffering more, both from excitement and exhaus- tion, ‘than she. Before they had fairly gotten hold of the boat, I saw Harry Mason swimming, and cried out to him. He paddled up to the boat leisurely, it seemed to me. He was on the leeward side, and for a minute or more he kept clear of the boat, swimming backward as she drifted on, and sheltered by her from the breaking sea. “Will she float us all, Frank?” he asked, calmly enough. LY was the answer; will carry us. Get hold hers When the next wave swept us toward him, Harry flung his arm across the boat's keel near the bow, and clung there. I was next to him. Miss Woodward was between Shirley and me. At first we hoped that Steve might come to our relief, and we wasted our scanty breath in shouting, but the wind by this time was blowing so hard that the sound “the air tanks of a human voice was assimilated into it instantly, and became the gale's voice, wild and inarticulate. We soon gave up all idea of rescue at our friend’s hands, and faced the chances that remained. There was one chance that we should be able to cling I would not suffer my stiffening fin- wers to relinquish their grip. to the boat till she should drift across the bay; and there were ten thousand against it. The bay fs about ten miles wide from Ogden’s Island to the head of- the cape. Some small islands and a multitude cf ledges lay between, but even should we encounter any of them the odds were that it would prove our destruction. I believe that, had Alice Woodward not been there, I should have given up the struggle and have slid off the slippery hull of that boat into Davy Jones’ locker. Help- ing to hold her on kept me in good heart abeut holding myself on. I should have felt myself to be the weakest but for her, and should not have waited for any one else to give out first. Uarry Mason was a stronger boy than I, but he became ex- hausted earlier, taking care of himself alone, than I did, being by my postition on the boat constrained to help another. The girl had splendid courage, but her strength and physical endurance were un- equal to the strain. It was an ordeal that any human creature might shrink from. ‘Though the night was the warmest that ever I saw th’ that bart of the world, we were all chill to the marrow of our bones. ‘The water of the Ine coast js by nature 80 cold that t warm it in a kettle over a fire. fore I had been on the bot- tom of that it iten minutes I was so numb below waist that I ghould.not have known {tif a. ih had bitten me in two. So mi Toy, body as was out of water part ft the time was freezing; the remainder ceaged. to suffer; it was dead. = ms ‘At first our minds directed us; we tried to do this and that. Then our strength failed; then our minds failed; and at last there was nothing left but d in- stinctive resietance., I knew nothing ex- cept that I would ay. Jet xo of the keel of that boat, nor‘suffel ly stiffening fingers to relinquish their grip on Alice Wood- ward's arm. - : Shirley must have been in a little better condition. He at least could see and hear, after those faculties seemed to have sus- Dended operations for me. It was Shirley who discovered that we were drifting into breakers; it was he who waked me with a last appeal when we were dashed against something black that towered above us, and frightened more than it cheered me. After that I remember fighting my way up.an interminable slope of rock covered with seaweed, while the waves pursued us and tried to drag the burden that was between us -back: into the sea. One last effort, and I saw that we were all to- gether on solid land again, and it flashed across my mind that we were safe. Then ail the nerves and mygscles in. my body gave way at once, and I fell, but I have no recollection of any shock when. 1. struck the hard surface of the ledge. For an interval Iwas as destitute of consciousness as in the absence of evi- dence to the contrary I would have held the rock on which I lay to ke. And to the rock, I suppose. the period since it was created does not differ from a second. 1 awoke to find my three companions busy with me. My first sensation was of cold; then I felt the others around me; and immediately a dash of water struck me in the fece. I supposed that some one had thrown it on me to revive me. “Never mind that,” sa‘d I, as cheerfully as might be; “I’m wet enaugh as It is.” : I sat up and again the water struck me. This time I saw that it was the spray of the wave that had broken on the rocks in front of me. “Why don’t we go up higher?” I asked. “We can’t,” replied Shirley, gloomily. “We're on top of the ledge now,” I struggled to my feet. All around me was a darkness so intense that I could see nothing but the foam of break'nz waves. To windward was a great path of white where the water was churning over a rough floor of rock, just awash. By this the waves were broken before they reached the edge of the upper ledge where we had found a respite from the storm, and only the largest of them flung their spray up to us. Yet our elevation above the water was not more than three feet. ‘In the name of heaven, Frank,” I said, “how is the tide?” “Rising,” seid Shirley. “Bert, it’s all over with us. We're on Gull rock or one of the other ledges in that bunch, and they’re all covered at high water.”” “Frank, are you sure?” “We capsized a mile and a half due east of Spruce Head, with the wind’ south: west and the tide just-beginning to run in, said he. “You can figure it out for your- self. You remember :the course we laid out yesterday from Spruce Head acress the bay between the Gull Rock ledges and the Round Islands? East rortheast, a half east.” “Frank, we're lost!” “Steady!” he cried, clutching my arm and wheeling ,me around till I faced the spot where the others crouched upon the ledge. “She knows, and she is not afi I won't.let you go te pieces: I can't your Ife, and that's a short thing, any way. You've :got to die some time, and if you die, you will live again. But if you're a coward here, eternity won't be jong enough fer you. to get over it.” In my rative town) Some years before 1 saw the light, there was a man who had a salmon weir almost directly in front of his house. A weir, as every one knows. is a fence made of long poles bearing a net, that extends far out into the water nd terminates in ar inclosure where fisa are ensnared. The man of whom I am speaking went out one morning to mend his weir; and he was at work at the far end of it when a peculiarly frightful thing happened. He had tied his boat to a pole, and was climb- ing along the side of the salmon trap when he lost his hold ard fell, § feet were bare, and ore of them struck upon a'broken pole under the water. The wood was sharp as a spear. and It was shaped like a barbed hook. It pierced his foot, and the barb held him fast. The tide must have been about breast high upon him as he clung to the weir, im- paled as I have described. What cries he sent toward his own home, standing before his eyes upon the sunny slopo, imagine. if you can. No mortal heard them. And the tide rosé steadily, no faster and: no ‘slower than on other days, and drowaed him. That story was the horror ‘of my boy- hood. It came to me with the vividness of a picture, on that ledge at night, with the same death before me as he had faced. By the Light I Sgw the Hands Upon the Dint. Yet I was not so desolate as he had been, for there were those who could hear my voice though they could not help me. We lay along the rock, and discussed one slender chance of rescue—Alice might be missed, and a searchi:g party might be sent out. On the other hand, she told us that her absence would probably not be noticed till morning, as she had gone to her room with the declared intention of re- maining there. A single consideration was enough to de- stroy our hope of assistance on her ac- count. Her absence would have been dis- covered much earlier in the evening, if at all, and the searching party would be al- ready embarked upon the bay carrying so many and so bright lights that we could not fail to see them. Yet not a single gleam could we‘perceive. Darkness was all around us like @'wall We could not even make out the Iighthotse on the lower end of Ogden’s Island, though on an ordinary night it should have been plainly visible. The seme argument proved to us that Steve had not succeedéd in reaching the is- land. The squalf must have blown him off shore. If he haé crossed the bay and land- ed on the head! of the cape, {t would be mowning beforeihe could get a searching party undér way. Thesituation was utter- ly hopeless, and: we did not pretend to re- Sard it in any other light. “If we only knew just what time it was,” said Shirley, ‘it would‘be some consolation. But my watch has stopped, and so has Miss Woodward's.” “I have a witch,” sald I. “It's a little gold one belongiig tomy mother. She let me take it. You know mine is being re- paired. The watch is. going, but I can’t See the face of it. Can we tell the time by feeling of the hands “I've got matches,” said Harry. “They're in a metal case; they're dry. Let’s all get together and shut off the wind while I light one. Hold your watch, Bert.” The first match was instantly extinguish- ed; the second broke in Harry's nervous fingers; the third flared up, and by its Nght I saw the hands upon the dial. They were almost together at 11. Harry saw the watch as well as I did, and he groaned as if he had been stabbed. “Five minutes of eleven,” he cried, “and the tide turned at eight. It's only half flood. I give up. Before th's I couldn't quite believe that we were lost. It seemed to me that there must be. some. mistake. But there is no getting out of it now.” “One chance only remains, so far as I a a said Frank “and ctr that’s to be ried, I'm earlier than - thought” _ Bla we We asked him what‘ he’ meant, ahd’ he told us his plan, which was to swim to Compass Island, the nearest land where anybody lived, and return for us in a boat. “Compass Island is here,” said Harry. “You can there in this sea than you can “I shall have the wind and replied Frank. “It is worth a ut it was not. The feat was entirely impossible. Frank was bigger and stronger and of greater endurance than most men, but he was only a fair swimmer. Under the most favor: conditions I don't be- aleve! e could: have swum a mile. Cottle as he was by long exposure, and ex- hausted by previous efforts, he would do well if he should swim a hundred yards. He would probably drown within the range of our voices. Yet he could not be prevented from mak- ing the attempt. Harry and I said what we could, and Alice besought him in such words as I felt I could have given my life for, if I had had at that time a life that was not as good as lost already. She could not stay him. “I'm responsible for this,” said he. Lis- ten, Alice; when I missed your boat the first time, I did it on purpose. I wanted to fix it with Steve so that I could row you ashore in your boat. We gambled for the privilege, and he won. Then, when you insisted on staying in my boat, I made him pull away in yours, though there was no need for it. If I had run alongside of you the first time, there would have been no collision. If I hadn't sent Steve away because I was jealous of him, we should have had the rowboat with us, and even if the squall had upset us. we could have got ashore. So it's all my fault, and I don’t deserve to come out of it alive. Perhaps after I am out of the way, something will happen to save you, who are rot to blame.” She told him in effect that he was des- perately explating a wholly pardonable of- ferse; and then she clung to him, but he disengaged himself from her hands. In a moment he had flung off-coat and shoes, and was ready to start. “Good-bye,” he said. “I'll bring you help if I can. At any rate, don’t give up till the last possible monient. Rescue may come.” I nearly lost my wits with horror as he went down into the black water beyond the ledge. He seemed to take our courage with him, and fer a time we lay huddled together like frightened children in the dark. The tide was rising over the level rock in front of us, and the waves were be- ginni:g to dash against the upper bulwark of the ledge, sending the spray hissing over us. We crouched close to the rocks and clutched them hard, preparing for the time when we must make our last resistance. “Heavens! How fast it rises!” gasped Harry in my eer. “What time is it now, I wonder?” Again we looked at my watch in the sud- den flare of a match. It was only a few minutes after twelve. Two more hours of flood tide, and already the water was breaking clear over us. It was impossible that we shculd survive another hour, for w Te too weak to stand. ot even God himself can save us now, sald Harry in my ear. He did not mean to be profane. It was merely the involuntary reaction from a dream of supernatural rescue. “God can save us no’ said Alice, *; easily as at any other time. Do you be- has lieve that the tide which He made ceased to obey Him “I believe th tide t for a million y 1 Rock twice .” said I, ans not stop fer us. It seemed to me weak It was like giving up. “It will stop if God tells it so,” said the girl. rs the every vering for has covere have engage] in » the flames of ing around them, and have forgotten the pa of mortal agony. o I suppose it was not altogether unna: al that Alice should defend the doctrine 's omnipotence at such a tim s stranger that we iwo hoy: have had the hardihood to deny natural interference at a time when o own lives depended on it: ty. Be thet as it may, the fact is that we debated the question with an earnestness that—so far as I was concerned—drove out all f With a natural exa’ our own importance we ta nd women, too: n were 1 “Pm respcnsible for this,” sald he. the present as a test case. If there had been any one to listen to us he would have stpposec that the validity of sacred his- tery depended upon the auesticn whether the tide would wait upon the mooz usual in Penobscot bay that night. We lay ia the shelter of a little ridz rock that we had found, and our physical discomfort was less than might have been supposed. The wind that swert over us was pesitively warm, and the chill of the spray had ceased to sirike through our clothing. A wave, taller than its fellows, burst in front of us and sent green water clear across the ledge. It was the first that had done the beginning of the end. We started up to our knees, and, bending for- ward with our hands upon the edge of rock, stared out across the water. Wave afi wave rolled in and broke, and flung spray over our heads; the level of that its but no other reached ich had alarmed us. It may have been ten minutes that we waited thus. Then Alice leaped to her fee! i may deny God’s power, if you will, she said, “but it has saved vs all. I tell you that the tide has stopped rising!” It was true, though by ine ciosesi ealen- lation I could make it lacked an hour and fifty minutes of the time of high water. Part Iv. Before Frank Shirley had swam a stone's throw from the ledge, he felt his strength failing. He knew that he would never cover half the distance between Gull Rocx and Compass Islard. If only his own life had been at stake he would have ceased to struggle. But for the sake of the girl whom his folly had led into deadly peril, he resolved that he would never yield while his power to move hand or foot remaiaed with him. The time had come when he, too, looked beyond the visible laws of tide and wave to Him who had made them. Had be It is wonderful how many strokes a swimmer can take after that one which seems the very last of which he is capable. ley swam on and on, though nis arms had come to such a degree of weariness and cold that he had no feeling of where they were. The effort of each stroke was made in his brain, and he had no sensa- tion of compliance with the impulses of his own will. Then suddenly he was conscious of some- thing vast and black towering beside him. A warning in his ears took a definite form. He recognized the noise of waves dushing upon rocks. His hand toucned a smooth wali, and he was hurled along it by the sand of the sea. Again and «gain! He could get no hold. Then a big streamer of seaweed entargled itself with his band. He closed upon it with the drowning man’s frantic clutch. It was wrenched from the rock. The reaction threw him upon his side. A wave rolled him over and over, and he sank, believing in his soul that he would rise no more. Interminable mome! passed. Then he felt his head shoot up into the air. The waves no long2r broke around him. Swimming was easy there. He took a great stroke and another. He saw in front of him a faint white crpscent, and he knew what it was. A momer later he was sprawling on a smooth sand beach, out of the waves and sheltered from the wind. Shirley needed only a moment of rest. The joy of triumph revived him. He had accomplished the impossible. He whisperéd to the beach on which he lay—urriedly, over and over again—“I have done it! 1 have done it!” In his excited fancy the long struggle with the waves was con- densed irto ™ single effort. He did not doubt that there was ample time to return and save his friends. Springing to his feet, he looked eagerly around. The little sand beach lay in a niche between steep rocks fifty feet or more in height. At the head of the beach there was a crumbling wall of rock, which Shir- ley presently scaled. Straggling spruce trees fringed the low cliff, and beyond them the land seemed to slope gently downward. Though Shirley did not recognize the spot, he judged that it must be about mid- way of the north shore of Compass Island. The two houses on the island stood close together at the head of a cove in the east- ern shore. Two brothers, named Rodman, with their families, lived there, farming the rocky soil of the islgnd, and fishing in the almost deserted waters round about. Shirley supposed that a run of a quarter of a miie would bring him to the houses; so, with a good will, he plunged among the trees, reckless of the rough ground and the darkness. 1t seemed to him that at a single bound he passed through the fringe of spruces, and came upon a house so sud- denly he almost ran against it. The Young Man Pointed at It. In all it resembled Sam Rod- but how he had encoun: so soon, unle it had come to m: more than Shirley could under- Even though the house had walked the island for his.convenience, {t added greatly, in his esti- , to the wonder of his being there when he should have been forty fathoms deep in the but the briefest recognition to this new evidence of heav- en's favor. Running around the corner of the house, he found its principal door, and began to beat upon it. A _ window almost over his head came up as if he had touched the spring that con- respects man’s dweliing, tered it him, wa: stand. trolled A man appeared, and called out hearti?; Who's the “I've sw here from Gull Rock,” Shir- ley answered. “There are some people on the ledge, and they will drown if we don’t reach them. We were in a boat, and she upset. We drifted across the bay.” “You swum he! from Gull Rock!” claimed the man. “Wh: mile!" “No, it isn’t,” cried Shirley; “but never mind that. Come along. We must back there before high tide. You've gota boat, of course?" ex- it’s more’n three The man did not He had van- ished from the wi There was a heart-treaking © dela’ then Shirley heard the ratule of bars and locks. The door swung open, and the master of the house appeared, bearing a lamp. “Come in,” he said; and Shirley followed him along’a short ‘hall and into what seemed to be the dining room of the house. The man set the lamp on the mantel- piece’ beside ‘the clock. The white dial seemed to start suddenly forward and con- front Shirley. The young man pointed at it. He could not speak “That's right,” said his host. minutes of two.” lotieh tide!” groaned Shirley. los: “Look here, young feller,” said the man, slowly. “There must be something wrong about this. You haven't swum from Gull Rock down here. The man don’t live that could do it. You've lost your bearings somehow.” “I hope to heaven I have,” rejoined Shir- ley. “Indeed, I know it’s true. This isn’t Compass Island.” “Not by a jug full. It's Little Green, and I'm Bill Green.” “How did I get here?” “God knows,” was the answer. your story again. We'll go along while you talk. We'll take these lanterns along, for I guess you've got some friends marooned somewhere, though they ain't on Guill Roc s He picked up a small boat lantern, and another that was a powerful affair with a big reflector behind its lamp. Shirley his story as they walked down to the »ove where the islander kept his boat. His com- “It's five “They're “Tell me panion did not interrupt him once. When Shirley had finished, he said: ‘ “Your friends are all right. They're off here on Black Ledge, mile from this island.” “It can’t be,” said Shirley. We couldn't have drifted way down here. The wind was southwest “Till the squall struck,” interrupted the islander; “then it came off to the west’ard. You was too busy gettin’ upset to notice it: but the fact is that the wind shifted four points in a blasted second. I never see it not a quarter of a fought for his own life cnly he m‘ght not A Crumbling Wall of Rock, Shirley Presently Scaled. Which have dared expect mercy from the cea, which is the most cruel of God's creatures. But in an effort which le knew was good, he felt that there should be a power on his side. Even within the ordinary course of taings it would be possible ihat he should find some bit of driftwood that would sustain him while he struggled on. But his hands encountered nothing but the water, and from the top of each suc- ceeding wave his eager eyes saw nothing but white crests and jet black billows. He lost account of time and distance. He knew only that the time seemed lorg to memory and short to hope. Whether he had won a hundred yards or haif a mile was a mere guess. His course he directed vaguely by the wind and sea, but what did it matter? Still ne knew that it was best to work a little to the right of the di- rect Iine of the waves, for Compass Island act jest that way afore. That's where you made your mistake. You drifted way to the south’ard of the Gull Rock ledges. “And Black Ledge ts out at high tide? You're sure of it?” “Certain. On a high run o’ tides it’s just awash. but it'll stick up like a sore thumb tonight. Don’t you.worry, my boy. In an hour from now your friends will be warm and dry and comfortable in my hozse.”” His words proved true. Alice and Harry and I had scarceiy convinced ourselves that the seeming miracle of the tide had actua!- ly happened, when a sudden, bright light flashed upon us. The boat in which Shir- ley and Bill Green were coming :o our rescue had rounded the rocky northern end of the island. A moment ijater came the friendly hail. The boat drew near rapidly. We could see only the bright lignt in the bay, but presently those in the boat could see us plainly and they had no need to ask after our safety. And when we heard Shirley's voice and knew for a certainty that it was he, we danced and shouted for jcy—danced on the slippery rock with the little strength that remained to us, and shouted with throats that were rough with salt spray that had beaten in our faces all the fearful night. The mystery of the tide and of Shirley coming to land: was explained to us in a word. It was all in the shift of the wind. And when I had compared my watch with the trusty old clock in Bill Green's hous and had found a discrepancy of nearly two hours, I saw through a few mere things that “had puzzled me. “That is always the way with miracles, said I, almost disappointed by the simplic- ity of the matter. “You don’t understand it, that’s all,” re- 4oined Harry. “It was really much simpler to take us off Guil Rock and put us onto Black Ledge than to stop the tide and in- terfere with the calculations of everybody in_the bay.” Steve turned up the next day on the head of the cape. He had been blown offshore as we had supposed, but. having a stanch boat under him, he had weathered the blow. “OH He had no idea what had happened to u: but believed that we had managed to « up under the lea of the island, despite the squall. Yes, he had drifted to leeward, and he never worked back to the point where he stood when he and Frank appealed to uUTmee Geren (® ° Sa Rovre isiansy * The Lay of the La chance og the question of Alice Woodward and her DOAt, Frank had the weather gauge after the adventure of Black Ledge, and Steve soon sheered off and sailed for other prize. a ey WARRING ON THE SICK. Policy Said to Be Pursued in Cuba in Regard to Hospitals. From the Medical Record. The revolution in Cuba furnishes to the world an example of the logic of war, which we could wish might serve as a terrent to the jingoes of all nations, but which, of course, will not. A war which is waged between two peoples for the attain- ment of a specific object will naturally not cease until one or the other side becomes too weak longer to contend. To be con- sistent, therefore, each side should strive by whatever means in its power—Wulll dynamite, poison, famine—to rey many of the enemy as possible. if any these chance to be much the better, for easier prey. It is on this principle that Cuba is now being waged, least, and, if we can trust accounts, by the revolutionists Concerning the cru of the we have abundant testimony of th sick or wounded, then they ar: of the mur it is not unlikely er of the sick b that the the Cubans, are in the main corre somewhat eXaggerat The latest evidence of Spain's tion to crush the rebellion by wa on the sick is furnistied us by a spondent in Havana, who sends a op the Gaceta Oficial of that city, conte‘ning a decree of the governor gencral of the island concerning the sending of medicines from the capital to provincial towns. formulating the conditions under whic pharmacists are permitted to sell drugs, neral Weyler says that a!l who disobe these provisions wil! oe regarded as aide Afte and abetters-of the rebetin and will t “tried b art martial,” which is caphemy for “e ed for the crime of rebellion.” long ago a Not physician and his wife were arrested and thrown inte prison tn Havana for the crime of having bar the wounds of some of the reby after.that.a body of Spanish s covered a hospital near Ininones, and, ¢ the order of their commander, put to death with the machete the resident surgeon and all the sick and wounded inmates, moi than twenty in number, and then burne their bodies, with the house and outt ings. A newspaper in Madrid rv diers dis- ntly con- ed an account of the murder of a Span- 2 surgeon, Who had been captured Ly a 1 been f the ms from Havan n Teports of attacks by S upon hospitals. We doubt not that some of these reports are true, for the Cubans can hardly be expected to n from reprisals when they have seen r helpless comra butchered. An moreover, they are logical. Theorists have t to establish humane rules for the ng on of war, to formulate an ethical ode for the guidance of men en ain slaughtering each other, but their «fc are vain. War has been'sung by poets blessed by the church, but it is hellish, —+ e+ —_- He'll Buy No More Fans. Frem the Chicago Post. He had been away on a business trip for quite a long time, and had broughi his wife a handsome fan on his return “It's just perfectly lovely, Harry she 1. .“It's the daintiest and most bea atiful ‘an I ever saw. I'm glad you like it evident gratification. “How could I help pretty?” she asked; with a sigh some time Why can’t you?” he demande 0 gown to go with it,” she answered, promptly.“"Phere ought to be a xown to that wouldn't look he returned with liking anything so and then she aided “Ionly wish I could carry it She gat the gown. H. twe days, and ever the to match what she aj) She W From the Chicago Post. “It's strange how wot tating that for which they have but supreme contempt, isn't it? “Si “Oh, no harm intended thinking of crning man and at the kicked him: nothing at all. I was your inconsistency in nd all that pe same time flat rn to him, ring him.” tering man : No? Why, I'v rtainly he said somewhere that imitation is sincerest flat- tery, and in this progressive age you—" But she was too angry to walt to hear any more. In the Menagerie, From Fliegende Blatter.