THE FIRST SHIPWRECK.

New Zealand Tablet, Volume XXII, Issue 1, 3 May 1895, Page 11

THE FIRST SHIPWRECK.

Translated from tbe French of Gustavo Toudouzbs It was high tide on Sunday evaoiog, near the base of ths lighthouse whiob stood at the extremity of the long pier protecting tbe little port of Portrieux, in Brittany, on the west of the immense bay of St Brienc. Moored by a chain, a boit which had been freshly pained, danced upon the water. Oa its stern Bbone out these words : Paimpol, La Belle Yvonne. The buo had long since sunk out of sight, and night fell, drowning all this corner of France in transparent shadows. " Hark, dc you hear it 1 It is calling us 1 It is time to quit our moorinps if we wish to go as far as the Isle of Brebat," said a fisherman who descended the iron ladder of the pier after having thrown hia basket and oars into tbe bottom of ths craft. Yvonne Rousic clutched her son, who was following, by the arm. Her ear strained to catch the men act of the breaker! upon the rocksi and a supplicating murmur rose to her lips : " Alain ! Alain i My poor boy 1" The robust boy, proud oC his fourteen years, listened only to the j tender call of the sea upon the sands. He disengaged himself saying : We must not miss the tide— quick I" Th<» sail went up slowly with a noise like the prolonged cry of a bird, dragging a little the length of the mast, and the boat moved obediently. It Bank little by little into the night which took it absorbing it gently, until it vanished in the dusk. Yyonne came back with stumbling feet overcome by a Bense of abandonment and the feeiicg that she had bid her loved ones an eternal farewell. Never before had her heart ached as it was doing now. It seemed to her that the night darkened her joy and shadowed her life— that it was drinking the blood from her veins. She raised her head, looked at the sky, the coasts, the waves, which were so stiou? and yet so supple as they rocked like a cradle— at the Btarry, moonliss night, with clouds scudding here and there. She tried to smile, but in her mind rose up the thought : "It is the first time he has ever left at night : My poor boy 1 If— " For several yiars they had been in the habit of quitting Paimpol to pass th« summer seasan at Portrieux, leaving for a time the house and nest of litle ones in care of an old grandmother. Jean Marie went out with his boat and Yvonne sold tbe fish on shore* Thanks to the wealth of tbe strangers who came there for the baths their tffairs prospered more than they bad done ia the country. But never before had tneir joy been so complete as it was this year The eldest child, the boy Alain, now accompanied his father when he went fishing, and with the aid of former gains they bad been able to refit the Belle Yvonne. It seemed to Jean Marie Bouaic that on so famous a craft he might go straight to Newfoundland if tbey wished. And he looked almost defUotly at the first boat of the season from those shores, with her paint dtfaced bull incrusted with shells and green marine moss, the deck covered with salt and the air impregnated with the Btv>ng odour of the salted cod in her hold. Until the hour of departure Yvonne bad felt confiient and joyous, but suddenly at the moment of parting a sob from the sea alongside the pier more violent than before had awakened in her something hitherto unknown— the sense of fe-»r. Memories of catastrophies besieged her; phantoms seemed whirling about her; lugubrious shadows of shipwrecks swept past her in mad d»Dce. Sbe rubbed her eyes, stammering : "lama fool. Ma Dove ! What is tbe matter with me this evening V Her brow was again smooth, her eyes shining with re-awakenad energy beneath tbe flattering frill of her headdress as sbe exclaimed : "The daughter of a sailor, tbe wife and mother of Bailors, ought I to begin and tremble at this late day ?" But here her voice died within her, and once more she was Beized with fright. " O God protect them 1" she cried. As she lay on her bed she tried and tried in vain to sleep, but found herself lisUning to the noises of tbe night, believing she heard plaintive calls for help. At dawn of next day she w«a tortured by such anxiety that she thought herself dying and awoke with a start. The empty room suddenly recalled the parting. In a moment she stood by the door. The sea wm rolling m after a furious storm. The sky was datk and lowering, but the boats wera coming in together, with

furled sails. They were all there. Sh* laughed and trembled, while her eyes flamed with joy. A passing fisherman called out brusquely to the women assembled upon the pier head : " That was an awful squall at 3 o'clock. I wouldn't have cared to be near the rocky coast of Brieuc." Had she misunderstood him ? With a hurritd glance she searched among the boats. The Belle Yvonne was missing. It was like a stab in her heart. She leaned forward and asked : " Jean Marie is not with you ?" A mist obscured their honest eyes. They tried to avoid looking at her. One of them said : " I saw him at 2 o'clock going toward the open sea. He will return later, no doubt. The catch will be great, it ib said, so he ia doubtless satisfied." Turning to a comrade he said in a low voice : " God knows where Jean Marie ia sailing at this hour — the course that he will take. It was hardly prudent to face that big sea." A little bewildered Bnd with the blood all gone from her brain Yvonne murmured : " Ah, yes, he will surely return and my boy with him," With her elbows on the hard stone of the pirapet and her eyes fixed upon the horizon Bhe sat there without again speaking. In the evening she was still there. Night came on and the lighthouse threw its red light over the waves. She had not moved and sat there as though fascinated, her eyes on the distance and muttering to herself. All night she watched, her tearless eyes burning from the salt of the sea. When morning came she had fainted, and they carried her away. (To be concluded.")