COMFORTABLY WRECKED.

New Zealand Graphic, Volume XV, Issue XX, 16 November 1895, Page 622

COMFORTABLY WRECKED.

It is a lamentable fact that constant repetition tends to strengthen belief in a story until it grows into a sort of tradition that no one dares or cares to dispute. Such was the case with the tale of Joel Goodhope’s wrecking. For years he had spun his yarn before the fire in the little shoemaker’s shop, and the village youth had listened with eyes extended, thrilling at the thought of the torn sails, the uncertain drifting and the final striking of the vessel upon the shore. To Joel’s credit it may be said that bis account never varied, not even in the appalling inflection of his tones. A stranger came into the village, and oue dreadful evening, never to be forgotten by Joel, sa*) with the others before the cobbler’s cheering blaze. They were listening once more to Joel’s narrative. ‘ Had ye been long outen provisions ?’ inquired the stranger. ‘ Well, no,’ replied Joel ; ' we had food enough.’ ‘ You was a coming to Squam, any way, wasn’t yer ?’ ‘ Yes, we were coming to Squam,’ said the unsuspecting Joel. ‘ She landed putty near where the cap’n wanted her ?’ persisted the stranger, t ‘Well, yes, ’bout fen foot from the wharf, said Joel, growing a little nettled. • You say you ran along the bowsprit and jumped off’. Did yer git wet any ?’ • No ; I landed in a sand heap—happened to.’ • Well,’pursued the seeker after information, * you live putty nigh right on the beach; you couldn’t] git veiy wet running home ?’ Joel was obliged to acknowledge to the dry state. ‘ Well,’ said the stranger, after a long pause, * I call that a tolerable comfortable wreckin’.’ A silence fell on the listeners, and Joel went out and shut the door quietly, feeling that somehow he had been robbed.