CHAPTER XV
THE VOYAGE OF THE DAISY M.
Denboro is many long miles from Eastboro, and the road, even in thebest of weather, is not a good one. It winds and twists and climbs anddescends through woods and over hills. There are stretches of marshyhollows where the yellow clay needs but a little moistening to become apaste which sticks to wheels and hoofs and makes traveling, even behinda young and spirited horse, a disheartening progress.
Joshua was neither young nor spirited. And the weather could not havebeen much worse. The three days' storm had soaked everything, and theclay-bottomed puddles were near kin to quicksands. As the lighthousewagon descended the long slope at the southern end of the village andbegan the circle of the inner extremity of Eastboro Back Harbor, Sethrealized that his journey was to be a hard one. The rain, driven by thenortheast wind, came off the water in blinding gusts, and the waves inthe harbor were tipped with white. Also, although the tide was almostat its lowest, streaks of seaweed across the road showed where it hadreached that forenoon, and prophesied even a greater flood that night.He turned his head and gazed up the harbor to where it narrowed andbecame Pounddug Slough. In the Slough, near its ocean extremity, his oldschooner, the Daisy M., lay stranded. He had not visited her for a week,and he wondered if the "spell of weather" had injured her to any extent.This speculation, however, was but momentary. The Daisy M. must look outfor herself. His business was to reach Judge Gould's, in Denboro, beforeMrs. Bascom and Bennie D. could arrange with that prominent citizen andlegal light for the threatened divorce.
That they had started for Judge Gould's he did not doubt for a moment."I shall seek the nearest lawyer," Bennie D. had said. And the judgewas the nearest. They must be going there, or why should they takethat road? Neither did he doubt now that their object was to secure thedivorce. How divorces were secured, or how long it took to get one, Sethdid not know. His sole knowledge on that subject was derived from thenewspapers and comic weeklies, and he remembered reading of places inthe West where lawyers with the necessary blanks in their pockets metapplicants at the arrival of one train and sent them away, rejoicing andfree, on the next.
"You jump right off the cars and then Turn round and jump right on again."
This fragment of a song, sung at a "moving-picture" show in the townhall, and resung many times thereafter by Ezra Payne, John Brown'spredecessor as assistant keeper at the lights, recurred to him as heurged the weary Joshua onward. So far as Seth knew, the Reno custommight be universal. At any rate, he must get to Judge Gould's beforeEmeline and her brother-in-law left there. What he should do when hearrived and found them there was immaterial; he must get there, that wasall.
Eastboro Back Harbor was left behind, and the long stretch of woodsbeyond was entered. Joshua, his hoofs swollen by the sticky clayto yellow cannon balls, plodded on, but, in spite of commands andpleadings--the lightkeeper possessed no whip and would not have used oneif he had--he went slower and slower. He was walking now, and limpingsadly on the foot where the loose shoe hung by its bent and brokennails.
Five miles, six, seven, and the limp was worse than ever. Seth, whoseconscience smote him, got out of the carriage into the rain and mudand attempted repairs, using a stone as a hammer. This seemed to helpmatters some, but it was almost dark when the granite block marking thetownship line was passed, and the windows in the houses were alight whenhe pulled up at the judge's door.
The judge himself answered the knock, or series of knocks. He seemedmuch surprised to find the keeper of Eastboro Twin-Lights standing onhis front step.
"Why, hello, Atkins!" he cried. "What in the world are you doing overhere? a night like this!"
"Has--has Mrs. Bascom been here? Is she here now?" panted Sethanxiously.
"Mrs. Bascom? Who is Mrs. Bascom?"
"She--she's a friend of mine. She and--and a relation of hers was comin'over here to see you on business. Ain't they here? Ain't they beenhere?"
"No. No one has been here this afternoon. I've been in since oneo'clock, and not a soul has called, on business or otherwise."
The lightkeeper could scarcely believe it.
"You're sure?" he demanded.
"Certainly. If they came before one my wife would have told me, I think.I'll ask her."
"No, no," hastily. "You needn't. If they ain't been since one they ain'tbeen. But I don't understand. . . . There's no other lawyer nigh here,is there?"
"No; none nearer than Bayport."
"My land! My LAND! Then--then I'm out of soundin's somehow. They nevercame for it, after all."
"Came for what?"
"Nothin', nothin', I guess," with a sickly smile. "I've made some sortof mistake, though I don't know how. Benije must have . . . I'll breakthat feller's neck; I will!"
The lawyer began to share the blacksmith's opinion that his caller hadgone crazy.
"Come in, Atkins," he urged. "Come in out of the wet. What IS thematter? What are you doing here at this time of night so far from theLights? Is it anything serious? Come in and tell me about it."
But Seth, instead of accepting the invitation, stared at him aghast.Then, turning about, he leaped down the steps, ran to the wagon andclimbed in.
"Giddap!" he shouted. Poor, tired Joshua lifted his clay-daubed hoofs.
"You're not going back?" cried Gould. "Hold on, Atkins! Wait!"
But Seth did not wait. Already he had turned his horse's head towardEastboro, and was driving off. The lawyer stood still, amazedly lookingafter him. Then he went into the house and spent the next quarter of anhour trying to call the Twin-Lights by telephone. As the northeast windhad finished what the northwest one had begun and the wire was down,his attempt was unsuccessful. He gave it up after a time and sat down todiscuss the astonishing affair with his wife. He was worried.
But his worriment was as nothing compared to Seth's. The lawyer'sreference to the Lights had driven even matrimonial troubles from theAtkins mind. The lights! the Twin-Lights! It was long past the time forthem to be lit, and there was no one to light them but Brown, a greenhand. Were they lit at all? If not, heaven knew what might happen or hadhappened already.
He had thought of this before, of course, had vaguely realized thathe was betraying his trust, but then he had not cared. The Lights, hisposition as keeper, everything, were side issues compared with the onething to be done, the getting to Denboro. He had reached Denboroand found his journey all a mistake; his wife and Bennie D. had not,apparently, visited that village; perhaps had not even started for it.Therefore, in a measure relieved, he thought of other things. He wasmany miles from his post of duty, and now his sole idea was to get backto it.
At ten o'clock Mrs. Hepsibah Deacon, a widow living in a little housein the woods on the top of the hill on the Denboro side of Eastboro BackHarbor, with no neighbors for a mile in either direction, was awakenedby shouts under her bedroom window. Opening that window she thrust forthher head.
"Who is it?" she demanded quaveringly. "What's the matter? Is anythingafire?"
From the blackness of the rain and fog emerged a vague shape.
"It's me, Mrs. Deacon; Seth Atkins, down to the Lights, you know. I'veleft my horse and carriage in your barn. Josh--he's the horse--isgone lame and played himself out. He can't walk another step. I'veunharnessed him and left him in the stall. He'll be all right. I'vegiven him some water and hay. Just let him stay there, if it ain't toomuch trouble, and I'll send for him to-morrer and pay for his keep. It'sall right, ain't it? Much obliged. Good night."
Before the frightened widow could ask a question or utter a word he wasgone, ploughing down the hill in the direction of the Back Harbor. Whenhe reached the foot of that hill where the road should have been, hefound that it had disappeared. The tide had risen and covered it.
It was pitch-dark, the rain was less heavy, and clouds of fog weredrifting in before the wind. Seth waded on for a short distance,but soon realized that wading would be an impossibility. Then, as indespair, he was about ready to give up the a
ttempt, a dark object cameinto view beside him. It was a dory belonging to one of the lobstermen,which, at the end of its long anchor rope, had swung inshore untilit floated almost over the road. Seth seized it in time to preventcollision with his knees. The thole pins were in place, and the oarslaid lengthwise on its thwarts. As his hands touched the gunwale a newidea came to him.
He had intended walking the rest of the way to Eastboro, routing out theliveryman and hiring a horse and buggy with which to reach the Lights.Now he believed chance had offered him an easier and more direct methodof travel. He could row up the Harbor and Slough, land close to wherethe Daisy M. lay, and walk the rest of the way in a very short time. Heclimbed into the dory, pulled up the anchor, and seated himself at theoars.
The bottom of the boat was two inches deep with rain water, and thethwart was dripping and cold. Seth, being already about as wet as hecould be, did not mind this, but pulled with long strokes out into theharbor. The vague black shadows of the land disappeared, and in a minutehe was, so far as his eyes could tell him, afloat on a shoreless sea.He had no compass, but this did not trouble him. The wind, he knew, wasblowing directly from the direction he wished to go, and he kept thedory's bow in the teeth of it. He rowed on and on. The waves, out herein the deep water, were of good size, and the spray flew as he splashedinto them. He knew that he was likely to get off the course, but theBack Harbor was, except for its upper entrance, landlocked, and he couldnot go far astray, no matter where he might hit the shore.
The fog clouds, driven by the squalls, drifted by and passed. At rareintervals the sky was almost clear. After he had rowed for half an hourand was beginning to think he must be traveling in circles, one ofthese clear intervals came and, far off to the left and ahead, he sawsomething which caused him to utter an exclamation of joy. Twofiery eyes shone through the dark. The fog shut them in again almostimmediately, but that one glance was sufficient to show that all waswell at the post he had deserted. The fiery eyes were the lanterns inthe Twin-Lights towers. John Brown had been equal to the emergency, andthe lamps were lighted.
Seth's anxiety was relieved, but that one glimpse made him even moreeager for home. He rowed on for a short time, and then began edging intoward the invisible left-hand shore. Judging by the length of time hehad been rowing, he must be close to the mouth of the Slough, where,winding through the salt marshes, it emerged into the Back Harbor.
He crept in nearer and nearer, but no shore came in sight. The fog wasnow so thick that he could see not more than ten feet from the boat,but if he was in the mouth of the Slough he should have grounded on themarsh bank long before. The reason that he did not, a reason which didnot occur to him at the time, was that the marshes were four feet underwater. Owing to the tremendous tide Pounddug Slough was now merely acontinuation of the Harbor and almost as wide.
The lightkeeper began to think that he must have miscalculated hisdistance. He could not have rowed as far as he thought. Therefore,he again turned the dory's nose into the teeth of the wind and pulledsteadily on. At intervals he stopped and listened. All he heard wasthe moan of distant foghorns and the whistling of the gusts in treessomewhere at his left. There were pine groves scattered all along thebluffs on the Eastboro side, so this did not help him much except toprove that the shore was not far away. He pulled harder on the rightoar. Then he stopped once more to listen.
Another blast howled through the distant trees and swept down upon him.Then, borne on the wind, he heard from somewhere ahead, and alarminglynear at hand, other sounds, voices, calls for help.
"Ahoy!" he shouted. "Ahoy there! Who is it? Where are you?"
"Help!" came the calls again--and nearer. "Help!"
"Look out!" roared Seth, peering excitedly over his shoulder into thedark. "Where are you? Look out or you'll be afoul of . . . Jumpin'Judas!"
For out of the fog loomed a bulky shape driving down upon him. He pulledfrantically at the oars, but it was too late. A mast rocked against thesky, a stubby bowsprit shot over the dory, and the little boat, struckbroadside on, heeled to the water's edge. Seth, springing franticallyupward, seized the bowsprit and clung to it. The dory, pushed aside andhalf full of water, disappeared. From the deck behind the bowsprit twovoices, a man's voice and a woman's, screamed wildly.
Seth did not scream. Clinging to the reeling bowsprit, he swung up onit, edged his way to the vessel's bows and stepped upon the deck.
"For thunder sakes!" he roared angrily, "what kind of navigation's this?Where's your lights, you lubbers? What d'you mean by--Where are youanyhow? And--and what schooner's this?"
For the deck, as much as he could see of it in the dark, lookedastonishingly familiar. As he stumbled aft it became more familiarstill. The ropes, a combination of new and old, the new boards in thedeck planking, the general arrangement of things, as familiar to him asthe arrangement of furniture in the kitchen of the Lights! It could notbe . . . but it was! The little schooner was his own, his hobby, hisafternoon workshop--the Daisy M. herself. The Daisy M., which he hadlast seen stranded and, as he supposed, hard and fast aground! The DaisyM. afloat, after all these years!
From the stern by the cabin hatch a man came reeling toward him, holdingto the rail for support with one hand and brandishing the other.
"Help!" cried the man wildly. "Who is it? Help us! we're drowning! We're. . . Can't you put us ashore. Please put us . . . Good Lord!"
Seth made no answer. How could he? The man was Bennie D.
And then another figure followed the first, and a woman's voice spokepleadingly.
"Have you got a boat?" it cried. "We're adrift on this dreadful thingand . . . why, SETH!"
The woman was Emeline Bascom.
"Why, SETH!" she said again. Then the sounds of the wind and waves andthe creaking and cracking of the old schooner alone broke the silence.
But Bennie D., even under the shock of such a surprise as this, did notremain silent long. His precious self was in danger.
"You put us ashore!" he shouted. "You put us ashore right off, do youhear? Don't stand there like a fool! Do something. Do you want us todrown? DO something!"
Seth came to life. His first speech was sharp and businesslike.
"Emeline," he said, "there's a lantern hanging up in the cabin. Go lightit and fetch it to me. Hurry!"
"It's upset," was the frightened answer. "Bennie found it when we firstcame aboard. When we--when this awful boat started, it upset and wentout."
"Never mind. Probably there's ile enough left for a spell. Go fetchit. There's matches in a box on the wall just underneath where 'twashangin'. Don't stop to talk! Move!"
Mrs. Bascom moved. Seth turned to the "inventor."
"Come for'ard with me," he ordered. "Here! this way! for'ard! FOR'ARD!"
He seized his companion by the arm and pulled him toward the bow. Thefrightened genius held back.
"What in time is the matter with you?" snarled the lightkeeper. "Areyour feet asleep? Come!"
Bennie D. came, under compulsion. Seth half led, half dragged him to thebow, and, bending down, uncoiled a rope and put it in his hands.
"Them's the jib halliards," he explained. "Haul on 'em quick and hardas you can. If we can h'ist the jib we can get some steerage way on her,maybe. Haul! haul till you can't haul no more. Then hang on till I comeback and make fast."
He rushed back to the wheel. The tiller ropes were new, and he couldtrust them, fortunately. From the cabin hatchway emerged Mrs. Bascombearing the lighted lantern.
"Good!" snapped Seth. "Now we can see what we're doin' and, if we showa glim, maybe we won't run down no more dories. You go for'ard and--No,you take this wheel and hold it just as 'tis. JUST as 'tis; understand?I'll be back in a jiffy. What in thunder's the matter with that foolheadat the jib?"
He seized the lantern and rushed to the bow. Bennie D. had dropped thehalliard and was leaning over the rail screaming for help.
Seth hoisted the jib himself, made it fast, and then turned hisattention to the mutinous hand.
/>
"Shut up!" he bellowed, catching him by the arm. "Who do you cal'late'sgoin' to hear you? Shut up! You come with me. I want you to pump. Theold craft would do well enough if she was tight, but she's more'n likelytakin' water like a sieve. You come and pump."
But Bennie had no notion of pumping. With a jerk he tore loose from thelightkeeper's grasp and ran to the stern, where he continued his howlsfor help.
Seth was at his heels.
"Stop that, I tell you," he commanded angrily. "It don't do no good. Ifyou don't want to go to the bottom you'll work that pump. Don't be sucha clown."
The frantic genius paid no attention. His sister-in-law left the wheeland put her hand on his shoulder. "Please, Bennie," she pleaded. "Pleasedo as he says. He knows, and--"
Bennie D. pushed her backward with savage force. "Mind your ownbusiness," he yelled with an oath. "'Twas your foolishness got me intothis." Then, leaning over the rail, he called shrilly, "He--lp! I'mdrowning! Help!"
Mrs. Bascom staggered back against the wheel, which Seth had seized theinstant she deserted it. "Oh!" she said, "you hurt me."
Her husband freed an arm and put it about her. "Are you much hurt,Emeline?" he asked sharply.
"No--o. No, Seth. I--I guess I ain't really hurt at all."
"Good! Then you take this wheel and hold her just so. That's it. ANDDON'T YOU DROP IT AGAIN. I'll attend to this feller."
His wiry fingers locked themselves in Bennie D.'s shirt collar.
"I ordered you to pump," said Seth. "Now then, you come and pump!"
"Let go!" screamed his captive. "Take your hands off me, or--"
The back of his head striking the deck put a period in the middle ofhis sentence. The next moment he was being dragged by the collar to thelittle hand pump amidships.
"Pump!" roared the lightkeeper. "Pump! or I'll break your everlastin'neck. Lively now!"
The dazed genius rose to his knees. "What--" he stammered. "Where--"
"Right there in front of you. Lively, you lubber!"
A well-directed kick helped to facilitate liveliness.
"What shall I do?" wailed Bennie D., fumbling the pump brake. "How doesit go?"
"Up and down--so." Seth jerked his victim's head up and down, by way ofillustration. "Now, then," he continued, "you pump till I say quit, orI'll--I swan to man I'll make a spare tops'l out of your hide!"
He left the inventor working as he had not worked in the memory of man,and strode back to the wheel. Mrs. Bascom was clinging to the spokes fordear life.
"I--I ain't dropped it, Seth," she declared. "Truly I ain't."
"All right. You can drop it now. I'll take it myself. You set down andrest."
He took the wheel and she collapsed, breathless, against the rail. Aftera time she ventured to ask a question.
"Seth!" she said, "how do you know which way to steer?"
"I don't," was the reply. "All I'm tryin' to do is keep her afore it. Ifthis no'theast wind would hold, we'd be all right, but it's dyin' fast.And the tide must be at flood, if not startin' to go out. With no wind,and no anchor, and the kind of ebb tide there'll be pretty soon--well,if we don't drift out to sea we'll be lucky. . . . Pump! pump! you sonof a roustabout. If I hear you stoppin' for a second I'll come for'ardand murder you."
Bennie D., who had ventured to rest for a moment, bent his aching backto the task. Was this man-slaughtering tyrant his mild-mannered, meekbrother-in-law, the creature whom he had brow-beaten so often andmanaged so effectively? He could not understand--but he pumped.
Perhaps Seth did not understand, either; perhaps he did not try to.Yet the explanation was simple and natural. The sea, the emergency, thedanger, his own deck beneath his feet--these were like old times,here was a situation he knew how to handle. He forgot that he was alightkeeper absent from duty, forgot that one of his passengers was thewife he had run away from, and the other his bugbear, the dreaded andformidable Bennie D. He forgot all this and was again the able seaman,the Tartar skipper who, in former days, made his crews fear, respect,and swear by him.
And he reveled in his authority. Once Mrs. Bascom rose to peer over therail.
"Emeline," he snapped, "didn't I tell you to set down and set still?Must I give orders twice? SET DOWN!"
Emeline "set."
The wind died to fitful gusts. The schooner barely moved. The fog wasas thick as ever. Still Seth did not lose courage. When the housekeeperventured to murmur that she was certain they would drown, he reassuredher.
"Keep your pennant mast-high, Emeline," he said cheerfully. "We ain'tout at sea, that's sure and sartin. And, until we get in the breakers,we're safe enough. The old gal leaks some; she ain't as dry as aGood-Templar prayer meetin', but she's afloat. And when I'm afloat Iain't afraid, and you needn't be."
Some time after that he asked a question in his turn.
"Emeline," he said, "what in the world are you doin' here, on myschooner?"
"Your schooner, Seth? Yours? Is this dreadful--is this boat yours?"
"Yup. She's mine. I bought her just for fun a long spell ago, and I'vebeen fussin' with her ever since. But I did it FOR fun; I never s'posedshe'd take a cruise--like this. And what are you and--him--doin' onher?"
Mrs. Bascom hesitated. "It was all an accident, Seth," she explained."This has been an awful night--and day. Bennie and I was out ridin'together, and we took the wrong road. We got lost, and the rain wasawful. We got out of the buggy to stand under some trees where 'twasdrier. The horse got scared at some limbs fallin' and run off. Then itwas most dark, and we got down to the shore and saw this boat. Therewa'n't any water round her then. Bennie, he climbed aboard and said thecabin was dry, so we went into it to wait for the storm to let up. Butit kept gettin' worse. When we came out of the cabin it was all fog likethis and water everywhere. Bennie was afraid to wade, for we couldn'tsee the shore, so we went back into the cabin again. And then, all atonce, there was a bump that knocked us both sprawlin'. The lanternwent out, and when we come on deck we were afloat. It was terrible. Andthen--and then you came, Seth, and saved our lives."
"Humph! Maybe they ain't saved yet. . . . Emeline, where was you drivin'to?"
"Why, we was drivin' home, or thought we was."
"Home?"
"Yes, home--back to the bungalow."
"You was?"
"Yes."
A pause. Then: "Emeline, there's no use your tellin' me what ain't so.I know more than you think I do, maybe. If you was drivin' home why didyou take the Denboro road?"
"The Denboro road? Why, we only went on that a ways. Then we turned offon what we thought was the road to the Lights. But it wa'n't; it musthave been the other, the one that goes along by the edge of theBack Harbor and the Slough, the one that's hardly ever used. Seth,"indignantly, "what do you mean by sayin' that I told you what wa'n't so?Do you think I lie?"
"No. No more than you thought I lied about that Christy critter."
"Seth, I was always sorry for that. I knew you didn't lie. At least Iought to have known you didn't. I--"
"Wait. What did you take the Denboro road at all for?"
"Why--why--Well, Seth, I'll tell you. Bennie wanted to talk to me.He had come on purpose to see me, and he wanted me to do somethin'that--that . . . Anyhow, he'd come to see me. I didn't know he wascomin'. I hadn't heard from him for two years. That letter I gotthis--yesterday mornin' was from him, and it most knocked me over."
"You hadn't HEARD from him? Ain't he been writin' you right along?"
"No. The fact is he left me two years ago without even sayin' good-by,and--and I thought he had gone for good. But he hadn't," with a sigh,"he hadn't. And he wanted to talk with me. That's why he took the otherroad--so's he'd have more time to talk, I s'pose."
"Humph! Emeline, answer me true: Wa'n't you goin' to Denboro to get--toget a divorce from me?"
"A divorce? A divorce from YOU? Seth Bascom, I never heard such--"
She rose from her seat against the rail.
"Set down," ordered her husband sh
arply. "You set down and keep down."
She stared, gasped, and resumed her seat. Seth gazed straight ahead intothe blackness. He swallowed once or twice, and his hands tightened onthe spokes of the wheel.
"That--that feller there," nodding grimly toward the groaning figure atthe pumps, "told me himself that him and you had agreed to get a divorcefrom me--to get it right off. He give me to understand that you expectedhim, 'twas all settled and that was why he'd come to Eastboro. That'swhat he told me this afternoon on the depot platform."
Mrs. Bascom again sprang up.
"Set down!" commanded Seth.
"I won't."
"Yes, you will. Set down." And she did.
"Seth," she cried, "did he--did Bennie tell you that? Did he? Why, Inever heard such a--I never! Seth, it ain't true, not a word of it. Didyou think I'd get a divorce? Me? A self-respectin' woman? And from you?"
"You turned me adrift."
"I didn't. You turned yourself adrift. I was in trouble, bound by apromise I give my dyin' husband, to give his brother a home while I hadone. I didn't want to do it; I didn't want him with us--there, wherewe'd been so happy. But I couldn't say anything. I couldn't turn himout. And you wouldn't, you--"
She was interrupted. From beneath the Daisy M.'s keel came a long,scraping noise. The little schooner shook, and then lay still. Thewaves, no longer large, slapped her sides.
Mrs. Bascom, startled, uttered a little scream. Bennie D., knockedto his knees, roared in fright. Seth alone was calm. Nothing, at thatmoment, could alarm or even surprise him.
"Humph!" he observed, "we're aground somewheres. And in the Harbor.We're safe and sound now, I cal'late. Emeline, go below where it'sdry and stay there. Don't talk--go. As for you," leaving the wheel andstriding toward the weary inventor, "you can stop pumpin'--unless," witha grim smile, "you like it too well to quit--and set down right whereyou be. Right where you be, I said! Don't you move till I say the word.WHEN I say it, jump!"
He went forward, lowered the jib, and coiled the halliards. Then,lantern in hand, he seated himself in the bows. After a time he filledhis pipe, lit it by the aid of the lantern, and smoked. There wassilence aboard the Daisy M.
The wind died away altogether. The fog gradually disappeared. Fromsomewhere not far away a church clock struck the hour. Seth heard it andsmiled. Turning his head he saw in the distance the Twin-Lights burningsteadily. He smiled again.
Gradually, slowly, the morning came. The last remnant of low-hangingmist drifted away. Before the bows of the stranded schooner appeared aflat shore with a road, still partially covered by the receding tide,along its border. Fish houses and anchored dories became visible. Behindthem were hills, and over them roofs and trees and steeples.
A step sounded behind the watcher in the bows. Mrs. Bascom was at hiselbow.
"Why, Seth!" she cried, "why, Seth! it's Eastboro, ain't it? We're closeto Eastboro."
Seth nodded. "It's Eastboro," he said. "I cal'lated we must be there orthereabouts. With that no'theast breeze to help us we couldn't do muchelse but fetch up at the inner end of the Back Harbor."
She laid her hand timidly on his arm.
"Seth," she whispered, "what should we have done without you? You savedour lives."
He swung about and faced her. "Emeline," he said, "we've both beenawful fools. I've been the biggest one, I guess. But I've learned mylesson--I've swore off--I told you I'd prove I was a man. Do you thinkI've been one tonight?"
"Seth!"
"Well, do you? Or," with a gesture toward the "genius" who was beginningto take an interest in his surroundings, "do you like that kind better?"
"Seth," reproachfully, "I never liked him better. If you had--"
She was interrupted by her brother-in-law, who came swaggering towardthem. With the sight of land and safety, Bennie D.'s courage returned;also, his old assurance.
"Humph!" he observed. "Well, sister, we are safe, I really believe.In spite of," with a glare at the lightkeeper, "this person's insanerecklessness and brutality. Now I will take you ashore and out of hispresence."
Seth rose to his feet.
"Didn't I tell you," he demanded, "not to move till I said the word?Emeline, stay right here."
Bennie D. stared at the speaker; then at his sister-in-law.
"Sister," he cried, in growing alarm, "sister, come! come! we're goingashore, I tell you. What are you waiting for?"
Seth put his arm about the lady.
"She is goin' ashore," he said. "But she's goin' with me, and she'sgoin' to stay with me. Ain't you, Emeline?"
The lady looked up into his face and then down again. "If you want me,Seth," she said.
Bennie D. sprang forward. "Emeline," he shrieked, "what do you mean? Areyou going to leave me? Have you forgotten--"
"She ain't forgot nothin'," broke in Seth. "But YOU'RE forgettin' what Itold you. Will you go aft there and set down, or shall I make you?"
"But--but, Emeline--sister--have you forgotten your promise to yourdying husband? To my brother? You promised to give me a home as long asyou owned one."
Then Seth played his trump.
"She don't own any home," he declared triumphantly. "She sold her house,and she ain't got any home--except the one I'm goin' to give her. Andif you ever dare to show your head inside of THAT, I'll--I'll heave youover both lights. If you think I'm foolin', just try and see. Now then,Emeline."
And, with his wife in his arms, Seth Atkins--Seth Atkins Bascom--CAPTAINSeth Atkins Bascom--swung over the rail and waded to land.
The Woman-Haters Page 15