THROUGH STORMY WEATHER.

New Zealand Herald, Volume XXXIX, Issue 11855, 6 January 1902, Page 3

THROUGH STORMY WEATHER.

("John shouldn't ha' let the lad go. I } never wished it. I knew how 'twould be. I said so from the first." ' The words were spoken in the weak, ] whimpering tone in which Martha Lee airways spoke when she. wag in trouble, and ] were accompanied by a dismal shake of the J head. Martha had reason to be sorrowful now, for last night the news had reached j her and her husband of the certain loss of £ their son's ship. It had been missing for f; some weeks, but nothing certain had been ,v known till now. Last night the news had lr come to John and Martha—the good ship ". Alexis had gone down a month ago, and r every soul on board, as far as could be ascertained, had perished. They had not cl known till the last spark had been quenched how much 'hope had been in their hearts;/ and to them, the, bright, brave, sailor lad/ ™ who had started oft' on his first voyage witl'j t such a light heart was only drowned las' S J night. He had always loved the sea ; froij s ' the time he used. to sail little, awkward I" toppling boats with the rest of the fishei 11 men's children down 011 the beach he hal J v talked of being a sailor. There was no f ' • such another fearless heart and active fori *1 in all the little company of men who livd s | in the huts 011 the cliff. I tl "Where's John now'.'" asked the neigh " • b'our who had come in to talk and syn- ri pathise with Martha. •- ; " He's been down 011 the beach all niglt t' wi' the rest of the men. watching the wreck " I can't understand the man—he an't slid , v ne'er a tear." j * " I'm going down to my man now," tli " other woman said. Will you come alon; t with me, .Martha V' 'r - v . Martha threw a shawl over her head, aid 8 the two slipped out into the early morniig light together, and descended the ste<p v ' path that led to the beach. It was a wei'd r dreary scene that met their eyes. Tie 5 general impression was of grayness a angry sea, gray jagged rocks, and over ill s a drifting sky of gray. The wreck lay jar s out to sea,on some rock that scarcely r«se v ' above' the. surface of the water, and which "had proved fatal to more than one ship. No 0 lives had been saved. Martha's/neighbour J; . told her. The men watching on the beach t had seen a boat put forth some time ago, .s but it could not live in such a tempest, and i had gone down before their eyes. £ < Martha scarcely heard; sin- was too \ • wrapped up in her own trouble,- and she was, besides, looking for her husband in the ] . little group gathered under lie shelter of c the cliffs. • No; he was not there. Site was looking 1 tip and down in some alarm," vhen she heard s the excited barking of a dog, and, remem- ( bering that their dog Rough had followed ; his master out, went in the direction of the ( sounds, which guided her to a cleft among ; the rocks. Her husband was kneeling on the wet i shingle, amongst the broken' wood and ] wreckage cast up by the set and bending over, something. . I As Martha came nearer she saw . that it . was the slight form of a girl of 19 or 20. j -Her pale, pretty face was upturned; her garments and her long fair hair were ; drenched with sea water. She lay so still, , her face was so deathlike, that Martha did , not think she could be living; but she ( asked ".John, speaking . softly, and he , answered, » - "I cannot tell'for sure ; I think so.' . He took the girl in his strong arms, and carried her up the winding cliff path to their , cottage and, leaving her in Martha's care, went down to the beach again. It was not the first time Martha had had' the. care of half-drowned.people and perhaps it was good for her just now since it: diverted her thoughts from' the son she had lost. She tried all the simple restoratives whose efficiency she had proved in former cases, and was rewarded at last by signs of . returning vitality. The girl half opened her eyes, and murmured something m a faint voice that sounded like "Father. She ■ was not really conscious all day. Her mind ■wandered, and she cried out about the storm that her father would be drowned—and seemed to be living over again, the events ot tho night. , ' , ; This one life was the only, one saved, lhe bodies of three men were washed ashore during tho day, but that was all. For some ;; time, it seemed doubtful whether the girl was to live, and it was more than a week before she was able to tell them her historv. It' was a very simple one. Hex "father was captain of a small trading vessel, •and since her mother's death, two years : before, she had frequently accompanied him on his voyages. She did not remember hearing of any relations; still less meeting any. There were only just those two, she and her father. , , John felt half superstitious about her. He almost fancied she had been sent to him, Ito comfort him for the loss of his son. He had stolen away from his wife for her whimpering tones had jarred upon him. He nad left the other men and women, their rudely expressed sympathy and-pitying looks were more than he could bear yet, and he had Stood alone, looking in bitternessofsp.r at the troubled waters sea that had ' take his son from him. .......Then, .the great whitc-crestcd waves had cast this girl up at ' his feet, and it seemed to him now that they W<l said: "Take this young creature, be-To-jvpd like vou, oi what was best ana dearest' to her "by the sea. and look upon he ' as sent to you bv Him.whom the winds and ' stayed in Jonn and 'in the evening, lie found the : fire bright and cheerful, the supper ready laid, ana • his chair drawn up in the warmest corner And in the ruddy light a JJ" sat, with hands plying k « t ' which brought so many little enmfoi .to the humble dwelling. When Martha jas ailing, as she often was, she had a gentle nurse' in Doris. John began to doubt if {it was only in the olden time that men - entertained angels unawares. : . Martha could not understand John. Her 'trouble only made her fretful and exacting, but his was buried deep in his heart and hidden from the eyes of others, because .it was a sacred thing. He could not pour . it, into everyone's ears, and / n > ]ife P <■ every trivial circumstance of his life, a Martha could; but Ins soul was full ot bitterness and rebellion. Only, when he saw Doris, who had suffered even a grea^ei loss than he, looking forward with simple faith, though the future , seemed so dark, he was softened, and from the ber.utj of her daily life learned a lesson of great resignation and patient fortitude never to be forgotten. came, at last, with storm and So March came, at last, with storm and rain, and one day the fisher people were a train assembled upon the beach; for out on the rocks, where the wreck had lam last autumn, another , ship had struck a foreign -.vessel. The "wild farewell of those on board reached Johns little cottage, and made the face of Doris, pressed against the pane, grow white and awed. "iSlie left her place, and, wrapping her cloak about her, went out upon the cliffs. It was growing dusk, and the tempest was still raging. The waves dashed up against the mighty rocks, and fell back howling, a? if in rage, because the hard surface ' would not, give way. ' , # Doris hid her face in her cloak, and cried, . for it made her think of the night that her father was drowned. She wandered on, alone, half-unconsciously, till she found herself, standing 011 the summit of a cliff 1 • that jutted out into the sea. She bent forward, drawn by a kind of fascination, ; to look at the cruel waves beneath. She started, half-uttering a cry of surprise and ' pity, for, down on the rocks far below, two • men were lying, cast up by the sea; and : that- they still lived was evident, for she saw them move. For a moment the girl stood still, but she quickly recovered,' and hurried to the ° bead). Her story was soon told; but to descend the cliff was an impossibility, and ' the end of the point was far out to sea, and divided from the beach by tossing, , angry billows. No little boat such as these poor folk possessed could hold her own when the waves were so > strong and high. - So the fishermen said, sorrowfully, shaking . their heads in depreciation of the idea of rescue. . There was general astonishment when 'John Lee stepped forward, and expressed his willingness to make tho attempt, if - some one of them would go with him. The sympathy with all' who had suffered : I through the sea, -which he had felt ever

since i heard of his son's death, was what indue/ him. There -*Vere those who would have /one with 1 him, had not it appeared such i hopeless endeavour. One man, indeed offered to go but his wife - clung to him.'sobbing, and entreating him not, till he lelded. "i will go!" cried - a voice • unlike ''.those of he fishermen, and Doris Mirton came forward, and laid her hand on John's arm. "Bvill go." ; v.;.- _ You!" John looked at . her in speechlei amazement. The proposal, coming firm a young girl was startling enough, lit Doris had been used to danger from ctildhood. She could row well, she knew bw to manage a boat. Slight as her gure was, every muscle was well developed »y physical exercise. Calm outwardly, pith a" strong and steady purpose shining in her eyes, she pleaded, and she won her —John's scruples were triumphed over. She took her place in the boat. Those left behind watched the little 'craft with straining eyes as it rose and fell upon the waves, sometimes disappearing from their view altogether, tossed upwards on the shifting mountain, then down into the dark and awful valley,' yet moving still towards the goal. They watched it, standing silent and breathless amidst the noise of the elements, and at last it reached in safety the point where lay the shipwrecked men. A ringing cheer went up from the shore, as the two were taken into the frail [boat. A few poor planks and spars, yet, guided by skilful, brave hands,, they had held together against winds and waves. Would they bear rescuers and rescued back to shore? ' Those gathered on the beach drew closer together to watch the return journey. Martha • came down from her cottage, whither some officious friend had carried i the news of her husband's danger, to rush J distractedly from one to another, imploring ! them to save him, and angrily demanding why, they had not prevented him from going. . . ! .'The boat came nearer; the faces of those within could be distinctly seen, and a cry rose from the beach. If it were possible, the excitement- and anxiety increased as the boat came in to shore. Ready hands were outstretched to save. Sobs and tears of joy, and eager welcomes, awaited George Lee. Doris had aided John in saving the life of his. own son. , . Sf'He had floated for days on the open sea, till the raft which carried him had been seen, and a Spanish vessel had taken Trim up. He had worked his passage from Spain to England, ; only to be again wrecked on the shores of his native village. So John's son was restored to him, and lie was to be knit yet closer to his adopted daughter.' , . ' In supreme hours all men are equal. He who had crouched by George Lee's side, sharing his peril, and waiting with him for death, was then a suffering fellow mortal and : no more. Given back .to lite like George, he was, unlike George, restored to all that wealth can give. The man with whom he had faced death, • the girl to whom he owed hjs life, found him not forgetful or ungrateful. George never ;went to sea again. New ties bound? him to a less adventurous life, and his new friend opened to him a prosperous career. There came a day when the sky was bine and golden, and the waves rippled in the summer sunlight, and wedding chimes rang out from \the little church on-*the hill. George and Doris had been guided, through stormy weather, into a peaceful haven.