CHAPTER II.

Tuapeka Times, Volume XX, Issue 1415, 24 December 1887, Page 4 (Supplement)

CHAPTER 11.

It was Christmas Eve ; a cold, quiet night- Yesterday it had snowed steadily all day ; now Nature, having duly made and

fitted her new robe, was wearing it in lovely piece. The kitchen at the Greenleaf farmhouse was warm and snug. If the floor was bare, and the ceiling but big oaken beams, a great fireplace piled high with blazing logs was cheery enough, and the apples and cider were rather pleasing — so Sammy thought. Grandpa, silent and sorrowful, sat on one side of the fire — a bronzed old man with wiry white hair and beard. Grandma, with a neat cap over her silvery hair, knitted briskly on the other side ; between them was a fat dog, an old cat, and tow-headed Sammy on a stool.

" Goin'to write all night ? " said Sammy, in a melancholy tone.

The captain looked up. He was writing, to a ship-owner he knew, for a place even as second mate. That very morning he had been discharged from Captain Perry's employ for ever, besides receiving a cruel letter accusing him of all manner of baseness and ingratitude.

. " I'll come now," said the captain, puting up hia writing ; then he took Sammy on his knee and told him stories of Christ-mas-tide — how God sent his angels down on earth to spread good cheer and happiness all over the world to rich and -poor. ' ' Is Santy Claus a angel ?" said Sammy, practically. " A sort of one," said the captain. " Which.isthe best, him or the angels ?"' said Sammy, thoughtfully.

" The angels," "Well, I guess I'll pray ter the angels, then, ter bring me a sled," said Sammy, with some relief ; " an' I'll tell !em ter git yer a new ship, Uncle John. I'm a pitcher, yer kuow," he went on gravely. "Grandma allus says little pitchers has big ears, when she's t ellin' what she don't want me to know." " Y()u'd better go to bpd now," laughed

me uapiain, and when the to.v head »wi o quiel on a pillow and the blue eyes closed he stole into the lit.tle room off the kitchen where Sammy slept, and laid, with ot'ier offerings, the looked-for sled at the foot of the bed. Then he went back to his writing ; later on, worn and weary with sorrow, he sought his bed in th i . attic, and fell into a troubled sleep. There was a mighfcv, rakish-sort of a moon that Christmas Eve ; it did not come out at all till midnight, but it shone brightly. then, with a mellow, cheerful radiance. In fact, it was so brilliant in Sammy's room, that he plainly saw, the name on his sled, " The 13055," in large, gilt letters. Sammy dreamed of the angels, with some vague memories of a Santa Claus, but most of beautiful angels in white, flying everywhere. He thought that he met one, such a lovely one, with real gold hair, and he asked her for the sled, and then for a ship for Uncle John — a great big ship. Tap— tap— tap, Sammy turned rest lessly on his pillow. Tap— tap. " For Uncle John," he murmured, drowsily. Tap— tap— tap. Hesprangup, wideawake. The moon was shining ; at the foot of his bed was a fine, blue sled. Tap— tap. Why, there at his little window was an angel— a real, live angel, with long, yellowhair, and all in white, too. The angel beckoned to him ; he started up, and ran to the window ; the angel was going down the path to the harbor. " I've got the sled," thought Sammy ; " but I never told her that I wanted a ship for Uncle John. I'll run after her," he said, talking to himself. " I will, an' git that ship for Uncle John's Chris'mus, from her."

He tugged his boots on over his bare feet, and put his overcoat on over his nightgown. He must waste no time, for

Grandma might stop his going, for fear he would get the croup. Then Uncle John had said angels seldom came to big folks, but always to little children like him.

Sammy crept out of the house, then away he sped after the white figure that was wandering down to the river. He saw the angel quite plainly now, even the soft white fur on her dress ; but, to his disappointment, he could see no wings.

"Angel ! Angel;" he panted, coming up to her ; " I like you forthe sled, thank yer ; but Uncle John, he wants a ship. I furgotthat."

" Yes, yes," said the angel, looking at him with wide, vacant eyes ; " yes, a ship. Dear John, it was so cruel. He shall have the ship. Come ! come ! " she cried, piteously, seizing the child's hand. " Hurry ; before they come we will get John the ship ; he will not blame me then — not leave me to die."

" I'll go ! " panted Sammy, running through the soft, light snow, his bare legs almost frozen. " It's awful cold, though. I'm nigh froze. Why, there ain't no ship there ! "he cried, in dismay, when they came to the brink of the bay, where the sullen, black waves, with shining tips of foam, beatagainsttherocks. " See ! there's our cove ; that's Uncle John's boat, he rows ter town— it's a mile an' a harf ! That's our old dory -there ~, it's leaky — Grandpa hauled her up last Summer — full er cracks. Ain't no ship I can see here."

The angel looked out on the wild waters with the same vacant look that was on her face all the way. The fierce wind coming up now against the tide boded a storm Where had that wind come from so suddenly ? Her long hair blew about her ; her snow-laden garments waved and flapped like a sail.

"Come! come!" she cried, clutching the child's arm, " into John's boit See !

I can push it off ! Id duni-tto hki 1 <i seagull ov the waves — ifc is a fi cc, happy boab. Now I'll row ; I can row, I can fly ; I am free now ! We'll go there, away, away away out ! — never to como back. Nevermore — nevermore \"

She laughed, a strange, wild laugh, that echoed over the groat, lonely harbor. Samnvy, holding tight to the gunwales of the boat, looked at her with wide, frightened eyes. " But the ship — Uncle John's ship 1" he repeated, miserably.

" There !" she cried, tossing the flying hair from her face; "ahead, away out, beyond that yellow light ; there is the ship !"

" That's the ocean." said Sammy, terror-stricken, ' ' Uncle John saya there's fearful breakers there— only one little narrer channel where vessels come in. That's the lighthouse. Oh, Angel, I want to go bacK, I'm so cold, and all the water is comin' inter the boat !"

His only answer was that mad laugh, singularly swe j t, echoing above all the roar of the water, and the wild moaning of the wind.

Captain John waked up from a troubled sleep. Some one was pounding at the door. He had thrown himself dressed on his bed, so in a second he was in the kitchen. The door had been broken open, and Captain Perry, May, and a crowd of men were in the house.

" He has stolen my daughter !" yelled the captain. " Search the house !"

A crowd of men rushed through the rooms. John, trembling and dazed, turned to the man that he knew best in the throng, the kind old village doctor : " For God's sake, what does this mean ?" he asked, ho rsley. " Miss Mona!" panted the doctor, who seemed to have run all the way from town. "She was taken delirious yesterday —

raved of you. I gave her a sleeping powder last night to calm her. The nurse and I left the room a moment for medicines ; when we got back—we had left her quiet, and, we thought, asleep — she was gone." "Gone!" cried John. "The windows were open; she must have climbed down the balcony ; she was barefooted,buthad thrown over hera white, fur-lined cloak. We traced her here— her bare foot-prints in the snow — bloody ones at tho last— to that window 1" (Pointing to Sammy's room.) " Sammy ain't there !" shrieked old Grandma Greenleaf ; " he's gone, an' his little coat an' boots ; but the rest of hia clothes is there 1"

" Was she delirious still ?" asked a bystander.

"I can't tell," said the doctor. "I think so ; her escape seemed like the cunning of insanity." Johu rushed out of the house. Perry was close at his heels.

" For God's sake," moaned the old man " tell me where she is — my Mona! You shall have your ship again !"

"Fool!" cried John, a horrible fear choking him ; " see — see the double tracks, the child's and hers ! They are goiug to the river — to the river, mm !" Oh, that half-mile ! It seemed as long as twenty miles, and each mile a mountain to climb. "The boat's gone — gone!" shouted John. " They can't have gone in that on the awful sea. My dory that was here is gone, Captain Perry !"

Just then a child's cry floated over the water, and they saw, rising on the crest of a wave, nearing the frightful breakers, that fretted the entrance to the harbor, a boat ; in it two figures ; then another wavo buried it from sight. While they talked and wrung their hands, and the crazed, stricken father cried and pray-

Ed, John Greenleaf worked with a sense and purpose. Some ran around theshore tothetown for boats well knowing their race would be useless.

" Two thousand pounds to the man that rescues her ! " cried May. 'Four thousand!" sobbed her father.

"'Don't go m that boat, John," said the doctor, laying a regaining hand. " For your poor old father's sake," cried the old man, hobbling to his son and clinging to his

aim ; "you're all I've got in this world, John, my noble sou, my brave lad. They treated yo mean — ye owe 'em nuthin'."

In his quiet way Ji)!,n freed himself. "Perry will take care of you," he said, briefly. 'Before they realized, lie was oif. He launched that frail dory on the wild water, he seized the battered oars and rowed out to sea. Ever} 7 seam in the treacherous boat let in a stream of water, every wave dashed its spiay over the sinking sides.

" They never co ild have readied i.er from the town," slid the doctor. " Soe, they are not halt' way there. It's a fearfully icy road and the snow is deep, and it will take time to get a boat in town, as most are laid up for the season. If he reaches her before they are at that point, they'resaved ; i[ he don't, the breakers will beat the boat to atoms. "

"He'll reach 'em,' said the old man, brokenly. "If a man can, he can God 'll help him."

This touched Perry. He turned and pressed the trembling hand of his old-time sailor, who whispered :

" An' God help ye, Cdp'eu."

"She's rowin' straight for them breakers," said a

HBn»rman. "By Jove, he's a magnificent rower, Hiougii/'saldyoungMay. " What strength he has, what a grtat, strong sweep ! I never saw courage like his, in that boat with the wind and sea ; but it's mad and useless, if it is sublime."

Perry looked at the young man, daintily bred and effeminate, a child of wealth and position ; then he looked out to sea, at that black speck, hurled onward with a force that he himself or this young aristocrat hardly realized. The strength of a man who has been bred to toil, the mighty strength of patient labor enlisted now to rescue and urged on by love — the woman he loved was in peril. Then it was Perry remembered how happy she was when John was with them ; how bright her smile when John told them stories of the sea ; how silent and grave she became when he was away ; so anxious for news of the Othello when there were storms. He recalled how honorable John was when his child had tempted him as man never was tempted before,

"Fool! fool that I have been! " he moaned, climbing up the steep cliff that walled in the little cave ftpra the sea. He saw in the moonlight tjjnit the boats were near together, he saw the dory a mere line above the water, and knew it was almost gone. • . " He's thrown off his coat," cried the doctor ; " see, he's swimming — swimming in that icy water ! "

" He never can do it," said May. " He can ! " shouted the captain, stung into fury ; "he oan, for he loves my girl, that's why, sir. He will save her ! "

They watched breathlessly, seeing so little, fearing much. Those few moments were an eternity, a lifetime to the waiting father. At last a fisherman, nearest to the edge of tho cliff, shouted :

" The boat's pufctin' back, sir— comin' this way ! "

Oh ! that joyful shout. It echoed out over the harbor where, drenched with icy water, worn and half frozen, Captain John was rowing back against the tide, battling every inch of the way. She lay, white and still like a broken lily, in the bow of the boat. He dared not look to see if she were dead, and shivering little* Sammy screamed from the bitter cold.

The moment the doctor hacJ Been the boat returning he rushed up to (he house ; he knew what w ould be needed. At last the speck grew into outline and shape, and then they saw the oarsman rowing his tireless stroke with steady nerve, with dauntless courage. Willing hands drew the boat to land, and carried Sammy to the house, but tho oarsman heeded them not. He lifted his white burden and strode over the fit. Ids to his home. He left her only when the doctor said that sh > was alive and might recover ; then he staggered to the door and fell in a dead faint.

" It's a funny Christmus,' said Sammy, dolefully, the lr.-xt morning. I've got trr stay in bed an' take medercine. I hate angels."

" But here's lots of things that Captain Perry sent you," said the doctor, who had heard the angel story froni his young patient, " and you can get up this afternoon."

"Where's Uncle John ? ' said Sammy, relenting- a little ; "rowed in that leaky boat, he did, an' lie told me not ter, that it would sink, an' it did, but heswimmed, he did."

" He's with the angel !" said the doctor, smiling.

" I've got ter see him," said Sammy, firmly ; so he was wrapped yip and carried to hia grandmother's room. He saw the angel, white and atill on the bed ; near her was his Uncle John, looking at her with a face that did not seem to belong to his Uncle Johu at all, it was so passionate, so radiant with hope and fear. Captain Porrv stood near the door ; he waved them back, but the angel opened her eyes at the noise. " Father," she said, softly. How still they all were ! Her reason was corning back. '■■ Is John here?" " Yes," answered her father ; "he is near you, close beside you."

John went to her then and knelt fejr the bed. She raised her golden head *» his breast. " Dear John." " You must not talk, love," he said, gently ; "lie quiet and get well." " You will never leave me ?" " Never, Mona," said her father ; " you will be happy to hear your father say that ; John is the only man in the world I would give you to, he is the noblest and the bravest. The Prince didn't come, Mona ; 1 was blind, arid didn't see that he with us all the time."

'■ Will Uucle John git his ship ?" put in Siimmy's shiill voice.

" Indeed he will," said the enptain. following them out, "and all old Captain Perry has to give."

" I guess," said Sammy, when ho ivas retucked in bed with an orange and a picture book, "1 guess she wasn't a Cliris'mus angel at all, an' I guess she's Uncle John's girl, an' I guess "

" You'd better not guess any more right auay," laughed the doctor. " You'll find out when she gfts wall she's better than all the Christmas angels your uncle John coulil tall you about till you get to be :i man."

" .Uebbe," said Sammy, sleepily ; " but I'd like ter know who brought me that sled, though."