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diff --git a/old/60811-h/60811-h.htm b/old/60811-h/60811-h.htm deleted file mode 100644 index 485ae59..0000000 --- a/old/60811-h/60811-h.htm +++ /dev/null @@ -1,7002 +0,0 @@ -<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" - "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> -<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" xml:lang="en" lang="en"> - <head> - <meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=iso-8859-1" /> - <meta http-equiv="Content-Style-Type" content="text/css" /> - <title> - The Project Gutenberg eBook of In Great Waters, by Thomas A. Janvier. - </title> - <link rel="coverpage" href="images/cover.jpg" /> - <style type="text/css"> - -body { - margin-left: 10%; - margin-right: 10%; -} - - h1,h2,h3{ - text-align: center; /* all headings centered */ - clear: both; - line-height: 2; -} - -h1 {margin-top: 2em; margin-bottom: 2em;} - -h2 {margin-top: 4em; margin-bottom: 1em;} - -h3 {margin-top: 2em; margin-bottom: 1em;} - -div.chapter {page-break-before: always;} - - -p { - margin-top: .75em; - text-align: justify; - margin-bottom: .75em; - } - - .p2 {margin-top: 2em;} - .p4 {margin-top: 4em;} - .p6 {margin-top: 6em;} - -.pagenum { /* uncomment the next line for invisible page numbers */ - /* visibility: hidden; */ - position: absolute; - left: 92%; - font-size: small; - text-align: right; - /* not bold */ - font-weight: normal; - /* not italic */ - font-style: normal; - /* not small cap */ - font-variant: normal; -} /* page numbers */ - -.figcenter2em {margin: auto; - text-align: center; - margin-top: 2em; - margin-bottom: 2em;} - -.figcenter4em {margin: auto; - text-align: center; - margin-top: 4em;} - -.caption p -{ - text-align: center; - text-indent: 0; - margin: 0.25em 0; -} - -.poetry-container -{ - text-align: center; - font-size: 95%; -} - -.poetry - { - display: inline-block; - text-align: left; - } - -.poetry .stanza -{ - margin: 1em 0em 2em 0em; -} - -.poetry .line -{ - margin: 0; - text-indent: -3em; - padding-left: 3em; -} - - -.poetry .i1 {margin-left: 1em;} - - - - -.center {text-align: center;} -.right {text-align: right; padding-right: 4em;} -.medium {font-size: medium;} -.large {font-size: large;} -.smcap {font-variant: small-caps;} -.i2 {margin-left: 2em; padding-right: 2em;} -.i7 {margin-left: 7em; padding-right: 2em;} - -hr { - width: 33%; - margin-top: 2em; - margin-bottom: 2em; - margin-left: auto; - margin-right: auto; - clear: both; -} - - - -hr.tb {width: 15%; margin-top: 2em; margin-bottom: 2em;} -hr.chap {width: 25%; margin-top: 2em; margin-bottom: 2em;} - - -/* Transcriber's notes */ -.box {margin: auto; - margin-top: 2em; - border: 1px solid; - padding: 1em; - background-color: #F0FFFF; - width: 25em;} - -table { - margin-left: auto; - margin-right: auto; - margin-top: 2em; - margin-bottom: 2em; -} - - .tdl {text-align: left; padding-left: 0.5em;} - .tdrb {text-align: right; vertical-align: bottom; padding-left: 3em;} - .tdr {text-align: right; padding-right: 0.5em;} - .tdrbt {text-align: right; vertical-align: bottom; padding-left: 3em; padding-top: 2em} - .tdc {text-align: center;} - - - - -@media handheld -{ - body - { - margin: 0; - padding: 0; - width: 90%; - } - - .poetry - { - margin: 3em; - display: block; - } - - .box { - width: 75%;} - - hr.tb - { - width: 10%; - margin-left: 47.5%; - margin-top: 2em; - margin-bottom: 2em; - } - - hr.chap - { - width: 20%; - margin-left: 42.5%; - margin-top: 2em; - margin-bottom: 2em; - } - - -} - </style> - </head> -<body> - - -<pre> - -The Project Gutenberg EBook of In Great Waters, by Thomas A. Janvier - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and -most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions -whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms -of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at -www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you'll -have to check the laws of the country where you are located before using -this ebook. - - - -Title: In Great Waters - Four Stories - -Author: Thomas A. Janvier - -Release Date: November 29, 2019 [EBook #60811] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK IN GREAT WATERS *** - - - - -Produced by Carlos Colon, The University of California and -the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at -http://www.pgdp.net (This file was produced from images -generously made available by The Internet Archive/American -Libraries.) - - - - - - -</pre> - - - -<p class="box">Transcriber's Notes:<br /> -<br /> - - -Blank pages have been eliminated.<br /> -<br /> -Variations in spelling and hyphenation have been left as in the -original.<br /> -<br /> -A few typographical errors have been corrected.<br /> -<br /> -The cover page was created by the transcriber and can be considered public domain.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<div class="figcenter4em" id="frontpiece"><img src="images/frontpiece.jpg" width="500" -height="726" alt="" title="" /> -<div class="caption"> -See <a href="#Page_223">page 223</a><br /> -"HOME ALONG THE BEACH FOR THE SECOND TIME" -</div></div></div> - -<div class="chapter"> -<h1>IN GREAT WATERS</h1> - -<p class="center">Four Stories</p> - -<p class="center p4">By</p> - -<p class="center large">THOMAS A. JANVIER</p> - -<p class="center">Author of<br /> -"The Uncle of an Angel" "The Aztec Treasure-House" -"The Passing of Thomas" "In Old New York" etc.</p> - -<p class="center p2"><i>ILLUSTRATED</i></p> - -<div class="figcenter2em"><img src="images/title.jpg" width="200" -height="194" alt="" title="" /></div> - -<p class="center p2">NEW YORK AND LONDON<br /> -HARPER & BROTHERS PUBLISHERS<br /> -1901</p></div> -<hr class="chap" /> - - -<div class="chapter"> -<p class="p6 center">Copyright, 1901, by <span class="smcap">Harper & Brothers</span>.</p> - -<p class="center"><i>All rights reserved.</i><br /> -November, 1901.</p></div><hr class="chap" /> - - - - -<div class="chapter"> -<p class="p6 center">TO</p> -<p class="center p2">C. A. J.</p></div> -<hr class="chap" /> - - - -<div class="chapter"> -<h2>Contents</h2></div> - - - -<table border="0" cellpadding="5" cellspacing="5" summary="indice"> - -<tr> -<td class="tdr" colspan="2">PAGE</td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td class="tdl smcam"><a href="#Zee">The Wrath of the Zuyder Zee</a></td> -<td class="tdrb">3</td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td class="tdl smcam"><a href="#Tragedy">A Duluth Tragedy</a></td> -<td class="tdrb">65</td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td class="tdl smcam"><a href="#Martigues">The Death-Fires of Les Martigues</a></td> -<td class="tdrb">135</td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td class="tdl smcam"><a href="#Upcast">A Sea Upcast</a></td> -<td class="tdrb">171</td> -</tr> -</table> -<hr class="chap" /> - - - -<div class="chapter"> -<h2>Illustrations</h2></div> - -<table border="0" cellpadding="5" cellspacing="5" summary="Illustrations"> - -<tr> -<td class="tdl"><a href="#frontpiece">"HOME ALONG THE BEACH FOR THE SECOND TIME</a></td> -<td class="tdrb " colspan="2"><i>Frontispiece</i></td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td class="tdl"><a href="#MAN">"HE WAS A CRAZED MAN"</a></td> -<td class="tdc"><i>Facing p.</i></td><td class="tdrb">6</td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td class="tdl"><a href="#DWELLING">"IT WAS A STATELY DWELLING"</a></td> -<td class="tdc">"</td><td class="tdrb">24</td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td class="tdl"><a href="#JAAP">OLD JAAP</a></td> -<td class="tdc">"</td><td class="tdrb">56</td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td class="tdl"><a href="#HEART">"'I HAVE LOVED YOU WITH MY WHOLE HEART'"</a></td> -<td class="tdc">"</td><td class="tdrb">126</td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td class="tdl"><a href="#MARIUS">MARIUS</a></td> -<td class="tdc">"</td><td class="tdrb">136</td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td class="tdl"><a href="#ROCKS">"THE OTHERS WERE UPCAST ON THE ROCKS"</a></td> -<td class="tdc">"</td><td class="tdrb">166</td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td class="tdl"><a href="#ME">"THEN I COULD USE MY EYES TO LOOK BEHIND ME"</a></td> -<td class="tdc">"</td><td class="tdrb">220</td> -</tr> - -</table> -<hr class="chap" /> - - -<div class="chapter"> -<p class="p6"><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_3" id="Page_3">[3]</a></span></p> - - - - -<h2 id="Zee">The Wrath of the Zuyder Zee</h2></div> - - -<h3>I</h3> - -<p>Old Jaap Visser was mad. Out there on the -island of Marken, in the Zuyder Zee, he was -the one madman, and a curiosity. The little boys—all -born web-footed, and eager as soon as -they could walk to toddle off on their stout -little Dutch legs and take to the water—used -to run after him and jeer at him. An underlying -fear gave zest to this amusement. The -older of them knew that he could lay a strange -binding curse upon people. The younger -of them, resolving this concept into simpler -terms, knew that he could say something -that would hurt more than a spanking; and that -would keep on hurting, in some unexplained -but dreadful way, beyond the sting of the worst -spanking that ever they had known. Therefore, -while they jeered, they jeered circumspect<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_4" id="Page_4">[4]</a></span>ly. -Out in the open—on the brick-paved pathways -which traverse the low marsh-land and -unite the little knolls on which are the villages: -the Hafenbeurt (where the harbour is), the -Kerkehof, and the Kesbeurt—butter would not -melt in their small Dutch mouths when they met -him. But when they had him at their mercy -among the houses of one or another of the villages -things went differently. Then they would -yell "Old Jaap!" "Mad old Jaap!" after him—and -as he turned upon them would whip -off their sabots, that they might run the more -lightly, and would dash around corners into -safety: with delightful thrills of dread running -through their small scampish bodies at -the thought of the curse that certainly was flying -after them, and that certainly would make -them no better than dead jelly-fish if they did -not get around the corner in time to ward it -off! And old Jaap would be left free for a -moment from his tormentors, brandishing his -staff in angry flourishes and shouting his strange -curse after them: "May you perish in the wrath -of the Zuyder Zee!"</p> - -<p>The young men and women of Marken, who -never had known old Jaap save as a madman, -felt toward him much as the children<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_5" id="Page_5">[5]</a></span> -did; though as they got older, and came to -understand the cause of his madness and the -effectiveness of his curse, their dread of him -was apt to take on a more serious cast. Even -Krelis Kess, a notorious daredevil in all other -directions, and for a long while one of old -Jaap's most persistent tormentors, came in the -end to treat him with a very obliging civility. -But then, to be sure, Marretje de Witt was old -Jaap's granddaughter—and everybody in Marken -knew that this gentle Marretje, because of -her very unlikeness to him it was supposed, -had made capture of Krelis Kess's much too -vagrant heart. One person, it is true, did -dissent from this view of the matter, and that -was Geert Thysen—who declared that Krelis -was too much of a man really to care for a -pale-faced thing fit only to marry another oyster -like herself. And Geert's black eyes would -snap, and her strong white teeth would show -in a smile that was not a pleasant one as she -added: "A live man who knows the nip of gin-and-water -does not waste his time in drinking -weak tea!" But then, to quote the sense of the -island folk again, everybody in Marken knew -that to win Krelis's love for herself Geert -Thysen would have given those bold black<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_6" id="Page_6">[6]</a></span> -eyes of hers, and would have said thank you, -too!</p> - -<p>Among the old people of Marken, who had -known old Jaap before his madness came upon -him, a very different feeling prevailed. They -dreaded him, of course, because they knew what -his curse could accomplish; but, also, they sorrowed -for him—remembering the cruel grief -which had come upon him in his youth suddenly -and had driven him mad. Well enough, they -said, might he call down his strange curse upon -those who angered him, for twice had he known -the bitterness of it: when death, and again worse -than death, had struck at that which was dearer -than the very heart of him through the wrath -of the Zuyder Zee.</p> - -<p>It all had happened so long back that only -the old people had knowledge of it—in the great -storm out of the Arctic Ocean which had driven -into the Zuyder Zee the North Sea waters; and -there had banked them up, higher and higher, -until the whole island of Marken was flooded -and half the dykes of the mainland were overrun. -Old Jaap—who was young Jaap, then—was -afloat at his fishing when the storm came -on, and his young wife and her baby were alone -at home. In her fear for him she came down<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_7" id="Page_7">[7]</a></span> -from the Kerkehof, where their home was, to -the Hafenbeurt; and there, standing upon the -sea-wall that shelters the little harbour, watching -for him, was the last that ever was seen of -her alive. When his schuyt came in she had -vanished—caught away by the up-leaping sea. -That was bad enough, but worse followed. A -month later, when he was at his fishing again—glad -to be at work, that in the stress of it he -might a little forget his sorrow—his net came -up heavy, and in it was his dead wife.</p> - -<div class="figcenter2em" id="MAN"><img src="images/pag6b.jpg" width="500" -height="375" alt="" title="" /> -<div class="caption"> -"HE WAS A CRAZED MAN" -</div></div> - -<p>Then it was that his madness fell upon him. -By the time that he was come back to Marken—sailing -his schuyt for a long night through -the dark waters with that grewsomely ghastly -lading—he was a crazed man.</p> - - -<h3>II</h3> - -<p>The shadow that rested on Jaap Visser's -mind was a deep melancholy that for the most -part kept him silent, yet that was broken now -and then by outbursts of rage in which he raved -against the cruel wickedness of the sea. It did -not unfit him for work. He had his living to -make; and he made it, as all the men of Marken -made their living, by fishing. But those who<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_8" id="Page_8">[8]</a></span> -sailed with him in his schuyt said that always -as the net came home he hauled upon it with -tight-shut eyes; that always, as it was drawn -inboard, he turned away—until the thrashing -of the fish and some word about the catch from -his companions assured him that he might look -without fear of such a sight as that which had -flashed burning through his eyes and had turned -his brain.</p> - -<p>When he was on land he spent little time in -his own home: of which, and of the baby -motherless, his mother had taken charge. Usually -he was to be found within or lingering near -the graveyard that lies between the Kerkehof -and the Hafenbeurt: an artificial mound, like -those whereon the several villages on the island -are built, raised high enough to be above the -level of the waters which cover Marken in times -of great storm. Before this strange habit of -his had become a matter of notoriety, a dozen -or more of the islanders, as they passed at night -along the path beside the graveyard, had been -frightened pretty well out of their wits by seeing -his tall figure rise from among the graves -suddenly and stand sharply outlined against -the star-gleam of the sky.</p> - -<p>But in those days, as I have said, his mad<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_9" id="Page_9">[9]</a></span>ness -was no more than a sombre melancholy—save -for his fitful outbursts of rage against the -sea. The bitterness that came into his heart -came later: when his daughter was a woman -grown and Jan de Witt married her—and presently -deserted her, as was known openly, for an -Edam jade over on the mainland. Things went -worse and worse for a while: until one day -when old Jaap—even then they were beginning -to call him old Jaap—fell into a burning rage -with his son-in-law and cursed him as he deserved -for the scoundrel that he was.</p> - -<p>It was down at the dock that the two men -came together. The schuyts were going out, -and Jan was aboard his own boat making ready -to cast off. Half the island folk were there—the -fishermen about to sail, and their people -come to see them get away. Some one—who -did not see old Jaap standing on the piling near -where Jan's boat lay—called out: "The fishing -is good off Edam still, eh, Jan?" And then -there was a general laugh as Jan answered, -laughing also: "Yes, there's good fishing off -Edam—better than there is nearer home."</p> - -<p>At this old Jaap broke forth into a passionate -outburst against his son-in-law: calling him by -all the evil names that he could get together,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_10" id="Page_10">[10]</a></span> -crying out against his wickedness and his cruelty, -and ending—as Jan's boat slid away from -her moorings, with Jan standing at the tiller -laughing at the old man's fury—by calling out -with a deep grave energy, in strange contrast -with his previous angry ravings: "God cannot -and will not forgive. He will judge you and -He will punish you. In His name I say to you: -May the might of the angered waters be upon -you—may you perish in the wrath of the Zuyder -Zee!"</p> - -<p>There was such a majesty in old Jaap's tone -as he spoke those words, and such intense conviction, -that all who heard him were thrilled -strangely. Some of the old men of Marken, -who were there that day, still will tell you that -it seemed as though they heard the voice of -one who truly was the very mouth-piece of God. -Even Jan, they say, paled a little; but only for -a moment—and then he was off out of the harbour -with a jeer and a laugh.</p> - -<p>But that was Jan's last laugh and jeer at -his father-in-law, and his last sight of Marken. -The next day the boats came hurrying home -before a storm, but Jan's boat did not come -with them. At first it was thought that he had -put into the canal leading up to Edam—it was<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_11" id="Page_11">[11]</a></span> -about there that the other fishermen had lost -sight of him—but a couple of days later his -boat drifted ashore, bottom upward, in the bight -of Goudzee south of Monnikendam. That left -room for guess-work. Certainty came at the -end of a fortnight: when the two men who had -been with him got back to Marken—after a -trip to England in the steamer that had picked -them up afloat—and told how the schuyt had -gone over in the gale and spilt them all out -into the sea. As for Jan, he never came back at -all. As he and the other two men were thorough -good sailors, and as the survivors themselves -were quite at a loss to account for their catastrophe, -there was only one way to explain the -matter: old Jaap's curse had taken effect!</p> - -<p>After that old Jaap had a place still more -apart from the other islanders. What he had -done to one he could do to another, it was whispered—and -thenceforward he was both shunned -and dreaded because of the power for life and -death that was believed to be his. The reflex -of this popular conviction seemed to find a -place in his own heart, and now and again -he would threaten with his curse those who -got at odds with him. But he never uttered -it; and the fact was observed that even in the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_12" id="Page_12">[12]</a></span> -case of the teasing little boys he was careful not -to curse any one of his tormentors by name.</p> - - -<h3>III</h3> - -<p>Certainly, if ever old Jaap had cursed any -particular little boy it would have been Krelis -Kess—who was quite the worst boy on the island, -and who usually was the leader of the -troop that hung about the old man's heels.</p> - -<p>And even when Krelis got to be a big young -fellow of twenty—old enough to go on escapades -in Amsterdam of which the rumour, coming -back to Marken, made all steady-going folk -on the island look askance at him—he still -took an ugly pleasure, as occasion offered, in -stirring up old Jaap's wrath. If the old man -chanced to pass by while he was sitting of a -Sunday afternoon in Jan de Jong's tavern, -drinking more gin-and-water than was good for -him, it was one of his jokes to call out through -the open window "Mad old Jaap!" in the shrill -voice of a child; and to repeat his cry, with different -inflections but always in the same shrill -tones, until the old man would go off into a -fury and shout his curse at the little boys who -seemed to be so close about him but who could<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_13" id="Page_13">[13]</a></span> -not anywhere be seen. At that Krelis would -fall to laughing mightily, and so would the -loose young fellows his companions—who had -found out that that would send his hand to his -pocket and give them free drinks all around.</p> - -<p>Under such conditions it is not surprising -that the wonder, and also the regret, of these -young scapegraces was very great when on -a certain Sunday afternoon in mid-spring time -Krelis not only did not volunteer his usual pleasantry -at old Jaap's expense—as the old man -came shambling up the narrow street toward -the tavern—but actually refused to practise it -when it was suggested to him. And the wonder -grew to be blank astonishment, a minute later, -when he went to the window and begged Herr -Visser to come in and have a glass of schnapps -with him! To hear old Jaap called "Herr -Visser" by anybody was enough to stretch to -the widest any pair of Marken ears; but to hear -him addressed in that stately fashion by Krelis -Kess was enough to make any Marken man believe -that his ears had gone crazy!</p> - -<p>At first the young scamps in the tavern were -quite sure that Krelis was about to play some -new trick on old Jaap, and that this wonderful -politeness was the beginning of it. But the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_14" id="Page_14">[14]</a></span> -marvel increased when the old man—who liked -schnapps as well as anybody—joined the little -company of tosspots and was treated by Krelis -with as much respect as though he had been a -burgomaster! And more than that, when the -session was ended—and old Jaap, to whom such -treats came rarely, was so far fuddled that he -could not manage his legs easily—Krelis said -that nothing could be pleasanter than a walk -across to the Kerkehof in the cool of the evening, -and so gave him a steadying arm home. -As the two set off together the young fellows -left behind stared at each other in sheer amazement; -and such of the Marken folk as chanced -to meet this strangely assorted couple marching -amicably arm in arm together were inclined -to disbelieve in their own eyes!</p> - -<p>For a week, while they all were away at their -fishing, there was a lull in the excitement; but -it was aroused again the next Sunday when -Krelis did not come as usual to the tavern—and -went to a white heat when a late arrival, a -young fellow who lived in the Kerkehof, told -that as he came past Jaap Visser's house he -had seen Krelis sitting on the bench in front -of it talking away with old Jaap and making -eyes behind old Jaap's back at Marret<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_15" id="Page_15">[15]</a></span>je. -At first, being so entirely incredible, this -statement was scouted scornfully; but it aroused -so lively a discussion that presently the whole -company left the tavern and went over in a -body to the Kerkehof bent upon disproving or -verifying it—and there, sure enough, were old -Jaap and Krelis smoking their pipes together, -and Marretje along with them, on the bench in -front of old Jaap's door!</p> - -<p>Young Jan de Jong—the son of the tavern-keeper—expressed -the feelings of the company -when he said, later, that as they stood there -looking at that strange sight you might have -knocked down the whole of them with the flirt -of a skate's tail! But they did not stop long -to look at it. Krelis glared at them so savagely, -and his big fists doubled up in so threatening -a fashion, that they took themselves off in a -hurry—and back to the tavern to talk it over, -while they bathed their wonder in very lightly -watered gin.</p> - - -<h3>IV</h3> - -<p>That was the beginning of Krelis Kess's -courting of Marretje de Witt—about which, in -a moment, all the island blazed with talk. Until -then, in a light-loving way, Krelis had been<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_16" id="Page_16">[16]</a></span> -keeping company with Geert Thysen. That -seemed a natural sort of match, for Geert and -Krelis had much the same bold way with them -and well enough might have paired. But Geert, -like Krelis, had a devil of a temper, and it was -supposed that an angry spat between them had -sent Krelis flying off in a rage from her spit-firing—and -that the gentle Marretje had caught -his heart on the rebound. The elders, reasoning -together out of their worldly wisdom, perceived -that under the law of liking for unlike this bold-going -young fellow very well might be drawn -toward a maiden all gentleness; and that, because -of her gentleness, Marretje would find a -thrilling pleasure in the strong love-making with -which Krelis would strive to take her heart by -storm. All that, as they knew, was human -nature. Had they known books also they would -have cited the case of Desdemona and the Moor.</p> - -<p>However, there was not much time for talking. -Krelis was not of the sort to let grass -grow under his feet in any matter, and in a love -matter least of all. Nor were there any obstacles -to bar his way. He had his own boat, -that came to him when his father was drowned; -and he had his own house in the Kesbeurt, where -he had lived alone since his mother had ended<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_17" id="Page_17">[17]</a></span> -a notably short widowhood by marrying a second -time. Old Jaap, moreover, was ready -enough to accept as a son-in-law the only man -in Marken who ever had styled him Herr Visser, -and who in addition to that unparalleled -courtesy had given him in quick succession nearly -a dozen bottles of the best Schiedam. There -was nothing to hinder the marriage, therefore, -but Marretje's shyness—and Krelis overcame -that quickly in his own masterful way.</p> - -<p>And so everybody saw that matters were like -to come quickly to a climax—everybody, that -is, except Geert Thysen, who said flatly that the -marriage was both impossible and absurd. Geert -had her own notion that Krelis was serving her -out for her hard words to him, and was only -waiting for a soft word to come back to her—and -she bit those full red lips of hers with her -strong teeth and resolved that she would keep -him waiting until he was quite in despair. -Then, at the very last, she would whistle him -back to her—with a laugh in his face first, and -then such a kiss as all the Marretjes in the -world could not give him—and the comedy of -his mock courtship would be at an end. Sometimes, -to be sure, the thought did cross her -mind that Krelis might not come to her whistle.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_18" id="Page_18">[18]</a></span> -Then the color would go out of her red cheeks -a little, and as she ground her big white teeth -together she would have a half-formed vision -of Krelis lying dead somewhere with a knife -in his heart. But visions of this sort came -seldom, and were quickly banished—with a -sharp little laugh at her own folly in fancying -even for an instant that Krelis could hesitate -in choosing between herself and that limp pale -doll.</p> - -<p>And then, one day, she found herself face to -face with the fact that Krelis had not been playing -a comedy at all. The news was all over -the island that he and Marretje were to be married -the next Sunday; and that he meant to -be married handsomely, with a great wedding-feast -at Jan de Jong's tavern in Jan de Jong's -best style. "So there's an end of your lover for -you, Geert Thysen!" said Jaantje de Waard, -who brought the news to her.</p> - -<p>At this Geert's red cheeks grew a little redder, -and her big black eyes had a brighter flash -to them; but she only laughed as she answered: -"It's one thing to lay the net—but it's another -to haul it in!" And Jaantje remembered afterward -what a strange look was in her face as -she said those strange words.</p> - -<p class="p2"><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_19" id="Page_19">[19]</a></span></p> - - -<h3>V</h3> - -<p>The wedding was the finest that had been -known in Marken for years. At the church -the parson gave his "Golden Clasp" address, -which was the most beautiful of his three wedding -addresses and cost five gulden. Then the -company streamed away along the brick-paved -pathway from the Kerkehof to the Hafenbeurt, -with the sunshine gleaming gallantly on the -white caps and white aprons of the women and -on the shiny high hats of the men, while the -wind fluttered the little Dutch flags—and they -all walked much more steadily then than they -did when they took their after-breakfast walk, -before the dancing began. In that second walk -the men's legs wavered a good deal, and some -of them had trouble in steering the stems of -their long pipes to their mouths. But that is -not to be wondered at when you think what a -breakfast it was! Jan de Jong fairly excelled -himself. They talk about it in Marken to this -day!</p> - -<p>While the wedding-party walked unsteadily -abroad the big room in the tavern was cleared; -and when the company was come back again, -much the better for fresh air and exercise, the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_20" id="Page_20">[20]</a></span> -dancing began. And just then a very queer -thing happened: Krelis led off the dance with -Geert Thysen instead of with Marretje his -bride!</p> - -<p>Some say that Geert made him promise to -do this as the price of her coming to the wedding; -others say that it was done on the spur -of the moment—was one of Geert's sudden -whims that Krelis, who also was given to sudden -whims, fell in with. About the truth of this -matter there can be only guess-work, but about -what happened there is plain fact: Just as the -set was forming, Krelis dropped Marretje's -hand and said lightly: "You won't mind, Marretje, -will you? It's for old friendship's sake, -you know." And with that he took the hand -of Geert Thysen, who was standing close beside -him, and away he went with her in the dance. -Those who think that it had been arranged between -them beforehand point out that Geert had -refused all offers to dance and had come close -to Krelis just as the set was formed. There -is something in that, I think. But whether -they had planned it or had not planned it, the -fact remains that Marretje's place at the head -of the dance at her own wedding was taken by -another woman; and as the set was complete<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_21" id="Page_21">[21]</a></span> -without her, she did not dance at all until the -first figure came to an end. They say that -there were tears in her eyes as she stood alone -there—and that she was very white when Krelis -took her hand again, at the end of the first -figure, and gave her for the rest of the dance -the place at the head of it that was hers. They -say, too, that Geert stood watching them—when -Krelis had left her and had taken his bride -again—with a hot blaze of color coming and -going in her cheeks, and with a wonderful flashing -and sparkling of her great black eyes. And -before the dance ended Geert went home.</p> - -<p>There was a great crackling of talk, of course, -about this slight that Krelis had put upon Marretje -on her wedding-day; and people shook -their heads and said that worse must come after -it. Some of the stories about Krelis's escapades -in Amsterdam were raked up again and were -pointed with a fresh moral. As for Geert, the -Marken women had but one opinion of her—and -the least unkindly expression of it was -that she was walking in a very dangerous path. -But when echoes of this talk came to Geert's -ears—as they did, of course—she merely -curled her red lips a little and said that as -she was neither a weak woman nor a fool<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_22" id="Page_22">[22]</a></span>ish -woman she was safe to walk where she -pleased.</p> - - -<h3>VI</h3> - -<p>It was a little disconcerting to the prophets -of evil that the weeks and the months slipped -away without any signs of the fulfilment of -their prophecies. However keen may have been -Marretje's sorrow on her wedding-day, it was -not lasting. Indeed, her gentle nature was so -filled with a worshipping love for Krelis that -he had only to give her a single light look of -affection or a half-careless kiss to fill her whole -being with happiness. He was a god to her—this -gayly daring young fellow who had raised -her up to be a shy little queen in a queendom, -she was sure, such as never had been for any -other woman in all the world. And Krelis -was very well pleased with her frank adoration. -It was tickling to his vanity that she -should be so completely and so eagerly his loving -slave.</p> - -<p>Next to her love for Krelis—and partly because -it was a part of her love for him—Marretje's -greatest joy was in her housekeeping. -She had taken a just pride in the tidiness of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_23" id="Page_23">[23]</a></span> -her housekeeping for her grandfather; but it -was a very different and far more exciting matter -to furbish and polish a house that really -was her own. And Krelis's house, of which -she was the proud mistress, was far bigger and -far finer than her old home. It was a stately -dwelling, for Marken, standing on an out-jutting -ridge of earth at the back of the Kesbeurt, -close upon a delightful little canal—and from -the back doorway was a restful far-off outlook -over the marsh-land to the level horizon of the -Zuyder Zee. Marretje loved that outlook, and -she had it before her often: for down beside -the canal was her scouring-shelf—where she -scoured away through long sunny mornings, -while Krelis was away at his fishing, until her -pots and kettles ranged in the sunlight shone -like burnished gold.</p> - -<p>Yet the fact should be added that when the -old men of Marken talked together about this -fine house of Krelis Kess's they would shake -their heads a little—saying that a better spending -of money would have been for a smaller -house founded on solid piling, instead of for -this showy dwelling standing on an out-thrust -earth bank which well enough might crumble -away beneath it in some time of tremendous<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_24" id="Page_24">[24]</a></span> -tempest when all the island should be overswept -and beaten by the sea.</p> - -<p>For the most part, of course—save for little -chats with her neighbours—Marretje was alone -in that fine house of hers. Old Jaap had come -to live with the young people—as was only fair, -since he had no one but his granddaughter to -care for him—but both he and Krelis spent all -their week-days afloat at their fishing and only -their Sundays at home. Yet now and then the -old man, making some excuse for not going out -with the fleet, would give himself a turn at shore -duty; and would sit in his big chair, smoking his -long pipe very contentedly, watching his granddaughter -at her endless scouring and cleaning, -and listening to her little bursts of song. In -his unsettled old mind he sometimes fancied -that the years had rolled backward and that he -was watching his own young wife again; and -in his old heart he would dream young love-dreams -by the hour together—blessedly forgetting -that the love and the happiness which had -made his life beautiful had been snatched away -from him and lost forever in the wrathful waters -of the Zuyder Zee.</p> - -<div class="figcenter2em" id="DWELLING"><img src="images/illo2.jpg" width="500" -height="378" alt="" title="" /> -<div class="caption"> -"IT WAS A STATELY DWELLING" -</div></div> - -<p>But Marretje's love-dreams were living ones. -As Krelis lounged over his pipe of a Sunday<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_25" id="Page_25">[25]</a></span> -morning, taking life easily in his clean Sunday -clothes, he would say an airy word or two in -praise of her housekeeping that fairly would -set her to blushing with happiness—and what -with the colour in her fair face and the light in -her blue eyes she would be so entirely charming -that Krelis's own eyes would go to sparkling, -and he would draw her close to him and fondle -her in a genuinely loverlike fashion that would -fill her with a very tender joy. Krelis was -quite sincere in his love-making. His little -Marretje's soft beauty, and her shy delight in -his caresses, went down into an unsounded depth -and touched an unknown strain of gentleness in -his easy-going heart.</p> - -<p>But even on the first Sunday after they were -married Krelis went off after dinner—it had -been a wonder of a dinner that Marretje had -cooked for him: she had been planning it the -week through!—to join his companions as usual -at Jan de Jong's. This came hard on Marretje. -She had been counting so much on that afternoon! -A dozen little tender confidences had -been put aside during the morning to be made -then comfortably: when the dinner things would -all be cleared away, and her grandfather would -have gone to take his usual Sunday look at his<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_26" id="Page_26">[26]</a></span> -boat, and she and Krelis would be sitting at -their ease—delightfully alone together for the -first time in their lives!</p> - -<p>She had thought it all out, and had arranged -in her own mind that they would sit on the -steps above her scouring-shelf—at the back of -the house and hidden away from everybody—with -the canal at their feet, and in front of -them the level loneliness of the marsh-land -stretching away and losing itself in the level -loneliness of the sea. She had a cushion all -ready for Krelis to sit on, and a smaller cushion -for herself that was to go on the next lower step—and -she blushed a little to herself as she -thought how she would make a back to lean -against out of Krelis's big knees. And then, -just as she had finished her clearing away and -was getting out the cushions, Krelis put on his -hat and said that he thought he would step -across to the tavern and have a look at the boys. -The boys would laugh at him, he said, if he -settled right down into being an old married -man—and he tried to give a better send-off to -this small pleasantry by laughing at it himself. -But he did not laugh very heartily, and he -almost turned back again when he got to the -bridge—thinking how the light of happiness<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_27" id="Page_27">[27]</a></span> -which had made Marretje's face so beautiful -through that Sunday morning suddenly had -died out of it as he came away. And then he -pulled himself together with the reflection that -she would be all right again when he got back -to her at supper-time, and so went on. When -he was come to the tavern he forgot all about -Marretje's unhappiness, for the boys welcomed -him with a cheer.</p> - -<p>Being in this way forsaken, Marretje carried -out what was left of her broken plan forlornly—arranging -the cushions on the two steps, and -sitting on the lower one with her elbow resting -on the upper one, and gazing out sorrowfully -across the marsh-land and the sea. That great -loneliness of sedge and sea and sky made her -own loneliness more bitter: and then came the -hurting thought that just a week before, very -nearly at that same hour, Krelis still more -cruelly had forsaken her while he led with Geert -Thysen their wedding-dance.</p> - -<p>After a while old Jaap came home and seated -himself beside her. He was silent, as was -his habit, but having him that way soothed -and comforted her. As she leaned her head -against his shoulder and held his big bony -hands the old man went off into one of his<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_28" id="Page_28">[28]</a></span> -dream-fancies that his young wife was beside -him again—and perhaps, in some subtle way, -that also helped to take the sting out of her -pain. When Krelis came home at supper-time, -walking a little unsteadily, he did not miss -her flow of chattering talk that had gone on -through the morning; and presently it began -again—for Krelis returned in high good-humour, -and his fire of pretty speeches and his -kisses quickly brought happiness back to her -sore little heart. Knowing thereafter what to -expect of a Sunday, her pleasure was less lively—but -so was her pain.</p> - - -<h3>VII</h3> - -<p>It was a little past the turn of the half-year -after the wedding that the prophets of evil pricked -up their ears hopefully—as there began to -go humming through Marken a soft buzz of talk -about the carryings on of Geert Thysen and -Krelis Kess. It was only vague talk, to be -sure; but then when talk of that sort is vague -there is the more seaway for speculation and -inference. All sorts of rumours went flashing -about—and carried the more weight, perhaps, -because they could not be traced to a starting-point<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_29" id="Page_29">[29]</a></span> -and were disavowed by each person who -passed them on. The sum of them became -quite amazing before long!</p> - -<p>In the end, of course, this talk worked around -to Marretje. Bit by bit, one kind friend after -another brought her variations of the same budget -of news, pleading their friendship for her -as the excuse for their chattering; and all of -them were a good deal disconcerted by the -placid way, with scarcely a word of comment, -in which she suffered them to talk on. Only -when they took to saying harsh things about -Krelis did they rouse her a little. Then she -would stop them shortly, and with a quiet insistence -that put them in an awkward corner, -by asking them to remember that it was her -husband whom they were talking about, and -that what they were saying was not fit for his -wife to hear. This line of rejoinder was disconcerting -to her interlocutors. To be put in -the wrong, that way, while performing for -conscience' sake a very unpleasant duty, could -not but arouse resentment. Presently it began -to be said that Marretje was a poor-spirited -thing upon whom friendly sympathy was thrown -away.</p> - -<p>Perhaps it was because Marretje was not feel<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_30" id="Page_30">[30]</a></span>ing -very strong just then that she took matters -so quietly. Certainly she had not much energy -to spare, and her days went slowly and heavily. -Even on the Sunday mornings when she had -Krelis at home with her—and a good many -of his Sundays were spent away from the -island, in order, as he explained, that he might -get off on the Mondays earlier to his fishing—she -found it hard to keep up the laughing talk -and the light-hearted way with him that he -seemed to think always were his due. When she -flagged a little he told her not to be sulky—and -that cut her sharply, for she thought that he -ought to feel in his own heart how very tenderly -she was loving him in those days, and how -earnestly she was longing for a tender and sustaining -love in return.</p> - -<p>It is uncertain how much of all this old Jaap -understood, but a part of it he certainly did -understand. In some matters his clouded brain -seemed to work with a curious clearness, and -especially had he a strange faculty for getting -close to troubled hearts. Many there were in -Marken, on whom sorrow had fallen, who had -been comforted by his sympathy; and who -had found it the more soothing and helpful -because it was given with no more than a gentle<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_31" id="Page_31">[31]</a></span> -look or a few gentle words. In this same soft -way, that asked for no answer and that needed -none, he comforted Marretje in that sad time -of her loneliness. Many a day, when the other -fishermen kept the sea, he kept the land—letting -his boat go away to the fishing without -him while he made company at home for his -granddaughter, and even helped her in the heavier -part of her house-work with his big clumsy -old hands. These awkward efforts to serve her -touched Marretje's heart very keenly—yet also -added a pang to her sorrow because of her longing -that Krelis might show his love for her -in the same way.</p> - -<p>But old Jaap had his work to do at sea, and -Marretje had to make the best of many and -many a weary and lonely day. Being in so -poor a way she could busy herself but little -with her house-work—nor was there much incentive -to scour and polish since Krelis had -ceased to commend her housekeeping; and, indeed, -was at home so little that he was indifferent -as to whether she kept her house well or -ill.</p> - -<p>And so she spent much of her time as she -had spent that first lonely Sunday afternoon—sitting -on the steps above her scouring-shelf,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_32" id="Page_32">[32]</a></span> -looking out sadly and dreamily across the marsh-land -and the sea. Or she would walk slowly -to the end of the village, where rough steps -went down to a little-used canal, and there -would lean against the rail while she gazed -steadfastly across the marshes seaward—trying -to fancy that she could see the fishing fleet, -and trying to build in her breast little hope-castles -in which Krelis again was all her own. -They comforted her, these hope-castles: even -though always, when the week ended and the -fleet was back again, they came crashing down. -Sometimes Krelis's boat did not return at all. -Sometimes it returned without him. When he -did come back in it very little of his idle Sunday -was passed at home. The dark months of -winter dragged on wearily. Grey chill clouds -hung over Marken, and grey chill clouds rested -on this poor Marretje's heart.</p> - - -<h3>VIII</h3> - -<p>But one glad day in the early spring-time the -sun shone again—when Krelis bent down over -her bed with a look of real love in his bright -eyes and kissed her; and then—in a half-fearful -way that made her laugh at him with a weak<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_33" id="Page_33">[33]</a></span> -little laugh in which there was great happiness—kissed -also his little son. "As if his father's -kiss could hurt this great strong boy!" she said -in a tone of vast superiority: and held the little -atom close to her breast with all the strength -of her feeble arms. She loved with a double -love this little Krelis: greatly for himself and -for the strong thrilling joy of motherhood, but -perhaps even more because his coming had -brought the other Krelis back again into the -deep chambers of her heart.</p> - -<p>It was the prettiest of sights, presently, when -she was up and about again, to see Marretje -standing in front of her own door in the spring -sunshine holding this famous little Krelis in -her arms. Then, as now, young mothers were -common enough in Marken; but there was a -look of radiant happiness about Marretje—so -the old people will tell you—that made her -different from any young mother whom ever -they saw. "Her face was as shining as the -face of an angel!" one of the old women said -to me—when I heard this story told in Marken -on a summer day. And this same old woman -told me that through that time of Marretje's -great happiness Geert Thysen walked sullen: -ready at any moment, without cause or reason,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_34" id="Page_34">[34]</a></span> -to fly out into what the old woman called a -yellow rage.</p> - -<p>But even from the first the matrons of the -island, knowing in such matters, pulled long -faces when they talked about the little Krelis -among themselves. Krelis Kess's son, they said, -should not have been so frail a child; and then -they would account for this puny baby by casting -back to the time when Marretje was orphaned -before she was weaned, and so was started -in life without the toughness and sturdiness -with which the Marken folk as a rule are dowered. -These worthy women had much good advice -to give, and gave it freely, as to how the -little Krelis should be dealt with to strengthen -him; but Marretje paid scant attention to -their suggestions, being satisfied in her own -mind that this wonderful baby of hers really -was—as she had said he was on the day when -his father first kissed him—a great strong boy.</p> - -<p>Krelis, seeing his little son only once a -week, was the first to notice that he was not so -strong as a healthy child should be; but when he -said so to Marretje she gave him such a rating -that he decided he must be all wrong. And -then, one day, Geert Thysen opened both his -and Marretje's eyes.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_35" id="Page_35">[35]</a></span> -It was a bright Sunday afternoon, when the -little Krelis was between two and three months -old, that Marretje was sitting with him on her -lap, suckling him, on the steps above her scouring-shelf; -and Krelis was seated on the step -above her, and she really was making a back -of his big knees. What with the joy of her -motherhood, and her joy because her Krelis was -her own again, it seemed to Marretje as though -in all the world there was only happiness. She -held the little Krelis close to her, crooning -a soft song sweetly over the tiny creature nestled -to her heart; and as she suckled him there -tingled through her breast, and thence through -all her being, thrills of that strange subtle -ecstasy which only mothers know. And Krelis, -in his own way, shared Marretje's great happiness: -as they sat there lonely, looking out -over the marsh-land seaward, their hearts very -near together because of the deep love that was -in both of them for their child. Presently -Krelis leaned a little forward, and with a touch -rarely loving and tender encircled the two in -his big arms and drew Marretje still closer -against his knees. And they sat there for a -while so—in the bright silence of that sunny -afternoon, fronting that still outlook over level<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_36" id="Page_36">[36]</a></span> -spaces cut only by the level sky-line far away—their -two hearts throbbing gently and very -full.</p> - -<p>A little noise broke the deep silence suddenly, -and an instant later Geert Thysen was almost -within arm's-length of them—standing in a boat -which she had poled very quietly along the -canal. Krelis unclasped his arms and drew -back quickly; but Marretje bent forward and -grasped the little Krelis still more closely, as -though to shield him from harm. For a moment -there was silence. Krelis flushed and looked -uneasy, almost ashamed. There was a dull -burning light in Geert's black eyes and her -face was pale and drawn. She was the first -to speak.</p> - -<p>"You're quite right to make the most of your -sick baby," she said. "You won't have him -long."</p> - -<p>"He's not a sick baby," Marretje answered -furiously. "He's as strong and well as he can -be!"</p> - -<p>Geert laughed. "That puny little thing -strong and well!" she answered. "Much it -is that you know about babies, Marretje! Don't -you see how the veins show through his skin? -Don't you see the marks under his eyes? Don't<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_37" id="Page_37">[37]</a></span> -you see how little he is, and how he don't -grow? In another month you'll know more. -He'll be over yonder in the graveyard by that -time!" And then she flashed a look on Krelis -of that sort of hate which comes when love goes -wrong as she added: "And it is no more than -you deserve, Krelis Kess. You might have had -a strong woman for a wife, and then you would -have had a strong child!" With that she gave -a sudden thrust with the pole that sent her boat -flying away from them, and in an instant vanished -around a turn in the canal.</p> - - -<h3>IX</h3> - -<p>Within a week the story of what had happened -between them was all over Marken. Geert -Thysen herself must have told what she had -done. Certainly Krelis did not tell; and Marretje, -having no one else to turn to, told only -her grandfather. But various versions of the -story went about the island, and the comment -upon all of them by the Marken folk was the -same: that Krelis had played the part of a coward -in suffering such words to be spoken to his -wife with never a word on his side of reply. -Old Jaap, they say, blazed out into one of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_38" id="Page_38">[38]</a></span> -his mad rages against his son-in-law. Some say -that he then laid the curse upon him—but that -never will be known certainly, for the bout between -the two men took place when they were -alone.</p> - -<p>What is known to be true is that Krelis for -a while was as a man stunned; and that when -he came to himself again—this was after the -little Krelis was laid away in the graveyard—what -love he had for Marretje was turned to -an angry hatred because she had let his boy die. -He said this not only to his neighbours but to -Marretje herself—telling her that their child -had died because she had borne it weakly into -the world and had given it no strength with -which to live.</p> - -<p>Even a strong woman, being well-nigh heart-broken—as -Marretje was when her baby was -lost to her—could not have stood up against a -blow like that. And Marretje, who was not a -strong woman, felt the heart-breaking bitterness -of what Krelis said because she knew that -it was true. Very soon she was as feeble and -as wan as the little Krelis had been. Happiness -was no more for her, and she longed only -for the forgetfulness of sorrow which would -come to her when she should be as the little<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_39" id="Page_39">[39]</a></span> -Krelis was. And so her slight hold on life -loosened quickly, and presently she and the little -Krelis lay in the graveyard side by side.</p> - -<p>She had a very nice funeral, so one of the -old women in Marken told me: the best bier -and the best pall were used, and the minister -gave his best address—the one called "The -Mourning Wreath"—at the grave. And, to end -with, there was a breakfast in Jan de Jong's -tavern that was of the best too. It was only -just to Krelis, the old woman said, to say that -in the matter of the funeral he behaved very -well indeed.</p> - -<p>But one thing which he did at that breakfast -showed that it was for his own pride, and -not for the sake of Marretje, that everything -was done in so fine a style. On Marken there -was left no near woman relative of Marretje's, -and when the guests came to the table they were -a good deal scandalized by finding that Geert -Thysen was to be seated on Krelis's right hand. -Old Jaap's place was on his left, but when the -old man saw who was to take the seat on the -right he drew back quickly from the table -and left the room.</p> - -<p>At that, for a full half-minute there was an -awkward pause—until Krelis, in a strong voice,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_40" id="Page_40">[40]</a></span> -bade the company be seated: and added that no -one had a better right to the seat beside him -than Marretje's oldest friend. As he made this -speech a little buzzing whisper went around -among the company, and some one even snickered -down at the lower end of the big room. -But there was the breakfast, as good as it could -be, before them. It was much too good a breakfast -to lose on a mere point of etiquette. The -whispering died out, and for a moment the -guests looked at one another in silence—and -then there was a great scraping and rattling -of chairs as they all sat down. And Krelis and -Geert presided over the funeral feast with a -most proper gravity—save that now and then -a glance passed between them that seemed to -have more meaning than was quite decorous -in the case of those two: the one being a maiden, -and the other a widower whose wife had not -been buried quite two hours.</p> - -<p>Of course there was a good deal of talk -about all this afterward; but as public opinion -had been moulded under favour able conditions—while -the mellowing influence of the good -food and abundant drink was still operative—the -talk was not by any means relentlessly -harsh. The men openly smiled at the proof<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_41" id="Page_41">[41]</a></span> -which Krelis had given that his loss was not -irreparable; and the women, with a certain -primness, admitted that—after all the talk there -had been—Krelis owed it to Geert to marry her -with as little delay as the proprieties of the -case would allow.</p> - -<p>But even this kindly public opinion was -strained sharply by the discovery that the marriage -was to take place only two months after -that funeral feast at which, to all intents and -purposes, it had been announced. That was -going, the women said, altogether too fast. But -the men only laughed again—partly at the way -in which the women were standing up for the -respect due to their sex, and partly at Krelis's -hurry to take on again the bonds from which -he had been so very recently set free.</p> - -<p>Here and there among the talkers a questioning -word would be put in as to how old Jaap -would take this move on the part of his son-in-law. -But even the few people who bothered -their heads with this phase of the matter held -that old Jaap never would have a clear enough -understanding of it to resent the dishonour put -upon his granddaughter's memory. He had returned -to his home in the Kerkehof and was -living there, in his own queer way, solitary.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_42" id="Page_42">[42]</a></span> -He was madder than ever, people said; and it -was certain that he had gone back to his old -habit of spending in the graveyard all of the -days and many of the nights which he passed -ashore. Often those who passed by night between -the Hafenbeurt and the Kerkehof saw -him there—keeping his strange watch among -the graves.</p> - - -<h3>X</h3> - -<p>What the Marken folk still speak of as -"the great storm"—the worst storm of which -there is record in the island's history—set in -a good four-and-twenty hours before the December -day on which Geert Thysen and Krelis Kess -were married. From the Polar ice-fields a -rushing and a mighty wind thundered southward -over the Arctic Ocean and down across -the shallows of the North Sea—sucking away -the water from the Baltic, sending a roaring -tide out through the English Channel into the -Atlantic, and piling higher and higher against -the Holland coast a wall of ocean: which broke -at the one opening and went pouring onward -into the Zuyder Zee.</p> - -<p>Already on the morning of that wild wedding-day -the waves were lapping high about<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_43" id="Page_43">[43]</a></span> -Marken, and here and there a dull gleam of -water showed where the marshes were overflowed. -Just before daybreak the storm lulled -a little, but came on again with a fresh force -after the unseen sunrise, and grew stronger and -stronger as the black day wore on. Down by -the little haven the fishermen were gathered in -groups anxiously watching their tossing boats—in -dread lest in spite of the doubled and tripled -moorings they should fetch away. Steadily -from the black sky poured downward sheets -of rain.</p> - -<p>According to Marken notions, even a landsman -should not have ventured to marry on a -day like that; and for a fisherman to marry -while such a storm was raging was a sheer -tempting of all the forces which work together -for evil in the tempests of the sea. Every one -expected that the wedding would be put off; -and when word was passed around that it was -not to be put off, all of the older and steadier -folk refused with one voice to have anything -to do with it. How Krelis succeeded in inducing -the minister to perform the ceremony -no one ever knew—for the minister was one of -the many that day on Marken who never saw -the rising of another sun. He was not well<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_44" id="Page_44">[44]</a></span> -liked, that minister, and stories not to his -credit were whispered about him; at least so -one of the old women told me—and more than -half hinted that what happened to him was a -judgment upon him for his sins.</p> - -<p>Even when the wedding-party came across -from the Kerkehof to the Hafenbeurt, some -little time before mid-day, the marshes on each -side of the raised path were marshes no longer, -but open water—that was whipped southward -before the gale in little angry waves. There -was no chance for a show of finery. The men -wore their oil-skins over their Sunday clothes, -and the women were wrapped in cloaks and -shawls. But it was a company of young dare-devils, -that wedding-party, and the members -of it came on through the storm laughing and -shouting—with Geert and Krelis leading and -the gayest madcaps of them all. So far from -being dismayed by the roaring tempest, those -two wild natures seemed only to be stirred and -aroused by it to a fierce happiness. They say -that Geert never was so beautiful as she was -that day—her face glowing with a strong rich -colour, her eyes sparkling with a wonderful brilliancy, -her full red lips parted and showing the -gleam of those strong white teeth of hers, her<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_45" id="Page_45">[45]</a></span> -lithe body erect and poised confidently against -the furious wind which swept them all forward -along the path.</p> - -<p>But as the party came near to the graveyard, -lying midway between the Kerkehof and -the Hafenbeurt close beside the path, some of -the young men and women found their merriment -oozing out of them. In that day of -black storm the rain-sodden mound was inexpressibly -desolate. All around it, save for the -pathway leading up to its gate, the marsh was -flooded. The graveyard almost was an island—would -be quite an island should the water -rise another foot. Rushed onward by the gale, -shrewd little waves were beating against its -windward side so sharply that the soft soil -visibly was crumbling away—a sight which -recalled a dim but very grisly legend of how -once a great storm had hurled such a sea upon -Marken that the dead bodies lying in that very -spot had been torn from their resting-places by -the tumultuous waves. But crueler still was the -shivering thought of Marretje, only two months -dead, lying in that sodden ground in her storm-beaten -grave.</p> - -<p>And then, as they came closer, the memory -of Marretje was brought home to them still<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_46" id="Page_46">[46]</a></span> -more sharply and in a strangely startling way: -as they saw old Jaap uprise suddenly from -where he had been crouched amidst the graves. -Bareheaded, with his long grey hair and long -grey beard soaked with the falling torrent and -flying out before the wind, he stood upright -on the crest of the mound close above them—his -tall lean figure towering commandingly -against the black rain clouds, defiant as some -old sea-god of the furious storm.</p> - -<p>He seemed to be speaking, but the storm -noises were as a wall shutting him off from -them, and not until they had passed on a little -and were to leeward of him could they hear -his words. Then they heard him clearly: speaking -slowly, with no trace of anger in his tones -but with a strange solemn fervour—as though -he felt himself to be out beyond the line which -separates Time from Eternity, and from that -vantage-point uttered with authority the judgments -of an outraged God. It was to Geert -and Krelis that he spoke, pointing at them with -one outstretched hand while the other was -raised as though in invocation toward the wild -black sky: "For your sins the anger of God -is loosed upon you in His tempests, and in His -name I curse you with a binding curse. May<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_47" id="Page_47">[47]</a></span> -the raging waters be upon you! May you perish -in the wrath of the Zuyder Zee!"</p> - -<p>A shudder went through all the wedding -company. Even Krelis, half stopping, suddenly -paled. Only Geert, bolder than all of them -put together, held her own. With a quick motion -she drew Krelis onward, and her lip curled in -that way of hers as she said to him: "What -has old Jaap to do with you or me, Krelis? -He is a mad old fool!" And then she looked -straight at old Jaap, into the very eyes of -him, and laughed scornfully—as they all together -went on again through the wind and -rain.</p> - -<p>But when they came to Jan de Jong's tavern, -where the wedding-breakfast was waiting -for them, Krelis was the first to call for gin. -He said that he was cold.</p> - - -<h3>XI</h3> - -<p>It was the strangest wedding-feast, they -say, that ever was held on Marken: with the -black tempest beating outside, and all the lamps -in the big room lighted—although the day still -was on the morning side of noon. Young Jan -de Jong—the same who is old Jan de Jong<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_48" id="Page_48">[48]</a></span> -now, and who now keeps the tavern—remembers -it all well, and tells how his mother was for -bundling the whole company out of doors. Such -doings would bring bad luck upon the house, -she said—and went up-stairs and locked herself -into her room and took to praying when her -husband told her that bad luck never came -with good money, and that what Krelis was -willing to pay for Krelis should have.</p> - -<p>But it was the wife who was right that time—as -the husband knew a very little later on. -For that night Krelis's boat was one of those -swept away from their moorings and foundered, -and Krelis's fine house was undermined by -the water and went out over the Zuyder Zee in -fragments—and so the wedding-feast never -was paid for at all. And she always said that -but for her prayers their son would have been -lost to them too. Old Jan was very grave when -he told me about this—and from some of the -others I learned that it was because of what happened -to him that night that he gave over the -wild life that he had been leading and became -a steady man.</p> - -<p>At first, what with the blackness of the storm -and the ringing in everybody's ears of old Jaap's -curse, the company was a dismal one. But the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_49" id="Page_49">[49]</a></span> -plentiful hot gin-and-water that Krelis ordered—and -led in drinking—soon brought cheerfulness -back again. As for Geert, she had -no need of gin-and-water: her high spirits held -from first to last. Seated on Krelis's right—just -as she had been seated only a little while -before on the day of Marretje's funeral—she -rattled away steadily with her gay talk; and -every now and then, they say, turned to -Krelis with a look that brought fire into his -eyes!</p> - -<p>The walk after breakfast was out of the -question. As the afternoon went on the storm -raged more and more tumultuously. There was -nothing for it but to have the room cleared of -the chairs and table and go straight on to the -dancing; and that they did—excepting some -of the weaker-headed ones, whose legs were too -badly tangled for such gay exercise and who -sat limply on the benches against the wall.</p> - -<p>This time it was not by favour but by right -that Geert led the dance with Krelis—her black -eyes shining and her face all of a rich red -glow. And as she took her place at the head of -it she said to Jaantje de Waard: "Who's got -him now, this lover of mine you said I'd lost, -Jaantje? Didn't I tell you that it's one thing<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_50" id="Page_50">[50]</a></span> -to lay the net, but it's another to haul it in?" -And away she went, caught close to Krelis, -with a laugh on those red lips of hers and a -brighter sparkle in her black eyes. Jaantje -said—it was she who told me, an old woman -now—that somehow this speech of Geert's, and -the sudden thought that it brought of dead -Marretje out there in the graveyard, made her -feel so queasy in her stomach that she left the -dance and went home bare-headed through the -storm.</p> - -<p>The dancing, with plenty of drink between -whiles, went on until evening; and after night-fall -the company grew still merrier—partly -because of the punch, but more because the feast -lost much of its grewsomeness when they all -knew that the darkness outside was the ordinary -darkness of black night and not the -strange darkness of that black day. But there -was no break in the storm; and now and then, -when a fierce burst of wind fairly set the house -to rocking on its foundations, and sent the rain -dashing in sheets against the windows, there -would be anxious talk among those of the dancers -who came from the Kerkehof or the Kesbeurt -as to how they were to get home. From -time to time one of the men would open the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_51" id="Page_51">[51]</a></span> -door a little and take a look outside—and would -draw in again in a hurry and go straight to the -punch-bowl for comforting: for none of them -had seen any storm like that on Marken in all -their lives.</p> - -<p>And so, when at last the storm did lull a -little—this was about eight o'clock in the evening, -close upon the moonrise—there was a general -disposition to take advantage of the break -and get away. And Krelis did not urge his -guests to stay longer, for he was of the same -mind with them—being eager to carry off homeward -his Geert with the flashing eyes.</p> - -<p>But when the men went out of doors together -to have a look about them they were brought -up suddenly with a round turn. It is only a -step from Jan de Jong's tavern to the head -of the path that dips downward and leads across -the marshes to the other villages. But when -they had taken that step no path was to be -seen! Close at their feet, and stretching away -in front of them as far as their eyes could -reach through the night-gloom, was to be seen -only tumultuous black water flecked here and -there with patches of foam. Everywhere over -Marken, save the graveyard mound and the -knolls on which stood the several villages, the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_52" id="Page_52">[52]</a></span> -ocean was in possession: right across the island -were sweeping the storm-lashed waves of the -Zuyder Zee!</p> - - -<h3>XII</h3> - -<p>Though they all were filled with punch-begotten -Dutch courage, not one of them but -Krelis—as they stood together looking out over -what should have been marsh-land and what -was angry sea—thought even for a moment of -getting homeward before daylight should come -again and the gale should break away. And -even Krelis would not have been for facing -such danger at an ordinary time: but just then -his soul and body were in commotion, and over -the black stormy water he saw visions of Geert -beckoning him to those red lips of hers, and -firing him with the sparkle of her flashing eyes.</p> - -<p>"It's a bit of sea," he said lightly, "but if one -of you will lend a hand at an oar with me we'll -manage it easily. Just here it's baddish. But -a stiff pull of a hundred yards will fetch us into -smoother water under the lee of the graveyard, -and beyond that we'll be a little under the lee of -the Kerkehof—and then another spurt of stiff -pulling will fetch us home. Geert will steer, -and we can count on her to steer well. I<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_53" id="Page_53">[53]</a></span> -wouldn't have risked it with Marretje at the -tiller—but I've got another sort of a wife now. -Which of you'll come along?"</p> - -<p>There was a dead silence at that, for every -one of the young fellows standing there knew -that to take a boat out into that water meant -a fight for life at every inch of the way.</p> - -<p>"Well, since you're all so modest," Krelis -went on with a laugh, "I'll pick out big Jan -here to pull with me—and no offence to the rest -of you, for we all know that not another man -on Marken pulls so strong an oar."</p> - -<p>It was old Jan himself who told me this, -and he said that when Krelis chose him that -way there was nothing for him to do but to say -that he'd go. But he said that he went pale -at the thought of what was before him, and -would have given anything in the world to get -out of the job. All the others spoke up against -their trying it; and that, he said, while it scared -him still more—for they all, in spite of the -punch that was in them, spoke very seriously—helped -him to go ahead. It would be something -to talk about afterward, he thought, that -he had done what everybody else was afraid to -do. And when the others found that he and -Krelis were not to be shaken, they set themselves<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_54" id="Page_54">[54]</a></span> -to bringing a strong boat across from the other -side of the village and getting it into the water—in -a smooth place under the lee of one of the -houses—and lashing a lantern fast into its -bows.</p> - -<p>When Krelis and Jan went back to the tavern -to fetch Geert there was another outcry. All -the women got around Geert and declared that -she should not go. But Geert was ready always -for any bit of daredeviltry, and the readier when -anybody tried to hold her back from it—and -then the way that Krelis looked at her would -have taken her with him through the very gates -of hell. She only laughed at the other women, -and made them help her to put on the oil-skin -hat and coat that Krelis fetched for her to keep -her dry against the pelting rain. And she -laughed still louder when she was rigged out -in that queer dress—and what with her sparkling -eyes and her splendid colour was so bewitching -under the big hat that Krelis snatched -a kiss from her and swore that at last he had -a wife just to his mind.</p> - -<p>All the company, muffled in shawls and -cloaks, went along with them to the water-side -to see them start; and because there was no -commotion in the quiet nook where the boat<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_55" id="Page_55">[55]</a></span> -was lying, and the darkness hid the tumbling -waves beyond, most of them thought that the -only danger ahead for Geert and the others was -a thorough drenching—and were disposed to -make fun of this queer wedding-journey on -which they were bound. But the young men -who had launched the boat knew better, and -they tried once more to make Krelis give over -his purpose—or, at least, to wait until the moon -should rise a little and thin the clouds. And -all the answer that they got was a laugh from -Geert and a joking invitation from Krelis to -come across to the Kesbeurt in the morning and -join him in a glass of grog.</p> - -<p>Krelis was to pull stroke, and so big Jan -got into the boat ahead of him—with his heart -fairly down in his boots, he told me—and then -Krelis got in; and last of all Geert took her -seat in the stern, and as she gripped the tiller -steadily gave the order to shove off. With a -strong push the young men gave the boat a -start that sent it well out from the shore, and -then the oars bit into the water and they were -under way.</p> - -<p>One of the old women whom I talked with -was of the wedding-party, and down there by -the shore that night, and she told me that they<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_56" id="Page_56">[56]</a></span> -all cheered and laughed for a minute as the -boat with the lantern in her bows shot off -from the land. The thought of danger, she -said, was quite out of their minds. Right in -front of them, less than a quarter of a mile -away, they saw the lights of the houses in the -Kesbeurt shining brightly, and plainly setting -the course for Geert to steer; and they knew -that the two strongest men on Marken were at -the oars. What they all were laughing about, -she said, was that anybody should be going -from the one village to the other in a boat—and -that it should be a wedding-journey, too!</p> - -<p>But it was only for a moment that their -laughter lasted. The instant that the boat was -out of the sheltered smooth water they all knew -that not by one chance in a thousand could she -live to fetch across. By the light of the lantern -fixed in her bows they saw plainly the wild -tumult of the sea around her—that caught -her and seemed to stand her almost straight on -end as Geert held her strongly against the oncoming -waves. The old woman said that a -thrill of horror ran through them all as they -realized what certainly must happen. By a -common impulse down they all went on their -knees on the sodden ground, with the rain pelt<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_57" id="Page_57">[57]</a></span>ing -them—and she heard some one cry out in -the darkness: "Old Jaap's curse is upon them! -May God pity and help them and have mercy -on their souls!"</p> - -<div class="figcenter2em" id="JAAP"><img src="images/illo3.jpg" width="450" -height="722" alt="" title="" /> -<div class="caption"> -<p>OLD JAAP</p> -</div></div> - - -<h3>XIII</h3> - -<p>Old Jan, who alone knew it, told me the -rest of the story—but speaking slowly and unwillingly, -as though it all still were fresh before -him and very horribly real.</p> - -<p>He said that when the boat lifted as that -first sea struck her it was plain enough what -was likely to happen to them—for they could -not put about to make the shore again without -swamping, and with such a sea running they -were pretty certain to swamp quickly if they -went on. But Krelis was not the sort to give in, -and he shouted over his shoulder: "I've got -you into a scrape, Jan; but if we can pull up -under the lee of the graveyard there's a chance -for us still." And then he called to Geert: -"Now you can show what stuff you're made of, -Geert. Steer for the graveyard—and for God's -sake hold her straight to the sea!" As for Geert, -she was as cool as the best man could have been, -and she steered as well as any man could have -steered. The light from the lantern shone full<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_58" id="Page_58">[58]</a></span> -in her face, and old Jan said that her eyes kept -on sparkling and that her colour never changed.</p> - -<p>With that tremendous wind sweeping down -on them, and with the waves butting against the -boat, and throwing her head up every instant, -even Jan and Krelis—and they were the best -oarsmen on Marken—could make only snail's -way. But it heartened them to find that -they made any way at all—as they could tell -that they were doing by seeing the lights ashore -crawling past them—and so they lashed away -with their oars and found a little hope growing -again. Presently Krelis called out: "The water's -getting smoother, Jan. Another fifty yards -and we'll be all right!"</p> - -<p>That was true. They were creeping up steadily -under the lee of the graveyard, and the -closer they got to it the more would it break the -force of the waves. If they could reach it they -would be safe.</p> - -<p>Just as Krelis spoke, the boat struck against -something so sharply that she quivered all over -and lost way. Neither of the men dared to turn -even for an instant; nor could their turning -have done any good—all that they could do -was to row on. But Geert could look ahead, -and the lantern in the bows cast a little circle<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_59" id="Page_59">[59]</a></span> -of light upon the furious sea. As she peered -over their shoulders a strange look came into -her face, Jan said, and then she spoke in a -voice strained and strange: "It's a coffin," she -said, "and I see another one a little farther -on. The sea is washing away the graveyard—as -it did that time long ago!" And then the -coffin went past them, so close that it struck -against and nearly unshipped Krelis's oar.</p> - -<p>Jan said that he trembled all over, and that -a cold sweat broke out on him. He felt himself -going sick and giddy, and fell to wondering -what would happen should he be unable -to keep on pulling—and how long it took a -man to drown. Then—but because of a ringing -in his ears the voice seemed to come faintly -from very far away—he heard Krelis cry -out cheerily: "Pull, Jan! If we're getting -among the coffins we'll be safe in a dozen strokes -more!"</p> - -<p>It was at that instant that a great wave lifted -the bow of the boat high out of the water, and -as she fell away into the trough of the sea she -struck again—but that time with a crash that -had in it the sound of breaking boards. Jan -knew that they must have struck the other coffin -that Geert had seen, and he was sure that<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_60" id="Page_60">[60]</a></span> -the boat was stove in and in another moment -would fill and sink from under them.</p> - -<p>For what seemed a whole age to him there -was a grinding and a crunching beneath the -keel; and then, as the boat swung free again, -he saw Geert go chalk-pale suddenly—as she -stood peering eagerly forward—and heard her -give a great wild cry. And then her color rushed -back into her cheeks and her eyes glittered -as she called out in a strong voice resolutely: -"It's Marretje come to take you from me, -Krelis—but she sha'n't, she sha'n't! You never -really were her lover—and you always were -and always shall be mine! And I hate her -and I'll get the better of her dead just as I -hated her and got the better of her alive!" -And with that Geert let go her hold upon the -tiller and sprang forward and clasped Krelis -in her arms.</p> - -<p>Jan could not tell clearly what happened -after that. All that he was sure of was the -sight for an instant, tossing beside the boat in -the circle of light cast by the lantern, of a lidless -coffin in which lay wrapped in her white -shroud the dead golden-haired Marretje—and -then the boat broached to and went over, and -there was nothing about him but blackness and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_61" id="Page_61">[61]</a></span> -the tumultuous waves. As he went down into -a hollow of the sea he felt the ground beneath -his feet, and that put courage into him to make -a fight for life. Struggling against the gale, -and against waves which grew smaller as he -battled on through them, he went forward with -a heart-breaking slowness; and the strength was -clean gone out of him when he won his way -at last up the lee side of the little mound—and -dropped down at full length there, in safe -shelter amidst the graves.</p> - -<p>"And Geert and Krelis?" I asked.</p> - -<p>"With her arms tight about him there -was no chance for either of them," he answered. -And then he went on, speaking very solemnly: -"The word that was truth had been spoken -against them. They perished in the wrath of -the Zuyder Zee!"</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p class="p6"><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_65" id="Page_65">[65]</a></span></p> - - - - -<h2 id="Tragedy">A Duluth Tragedy</h2></div> - - -<h3>I</h3> -<div class="figcenter2em"><img src="images/illo4.jpg" width="500" -height="117" alt="" title="" /></div> - - -<p>Jutting out from the rocky coast, a sand -spit nearly seven miles long, Minnesota Point -is as a strong arm stretched forth to defend the -harbour of Duluth against the storms which -breed in the frozen North and come roaring -down Lake Superior. Wisconsin Point, less -than half its length, almost meets it from the -other shore. Between the two is the narrow -inlet through which in old times came the -Canadian voyageurs—on their way across Saint -Louis Bay and up the windings of the Saint -Louis River to Pond du Lac, twenty miles<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_66" id="Page_66">[66]</a></span> -farther westward. That was in the fur-trading -days of little sailing-vessels and birch-bark canoes. -Now, close to its shoulder, the Point is -cut by a canal through which the great black -steamships come and go.</p> - -<p>Five-and-twenty years ago—before the canal -was thought of, and when the Duluth of the -present, with its backing of twenty thousand -miles of railway, was a dream just beginning to -be realized—Minnesota Point was believed to -have a great future. Close to its shoulder a -town site was staked out, and little wooden -houses were built at a great rate. Corner -lots on that sand spit were at a premium. The -"boom" was on. The smash of '73 knocked -the bottom out of everything for a while. When -good times came again the town site moved on -westward a half-mile or so and settled itself on -the mainland. The little houses on the Point -were out of the running and were taken up by -Swedes—who were content, as Americans were -not, to live a few steps away from the strenuous -centre of that inchoate metropolis. That -time the "boom" was a genuine one. The new -city had come to stay. In course of time, to -meet its growing trade requirements, the canal -was cut which made the Point an island—and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_67" id="Page_67">[67]</a></span> -after that the Point was dead for good and -all.</p> - -<p>Nowadays it is only in summer that a little -life, other than that of its few inhabitants, -shows itself on Minnesota Point—when camping-parties -and picnic-parties go down by three -miles of shaky tramway to Oatka Beach. During -all the rest of the year that sandy barren, -with its forlorn decaying houses and its dreary -growth of pines stunted by the harsh lake winds, -is forgotten and desolate. Now and then is -heard the cry of a gull flying across it slowly; -and always against its outer side—with a thunderous -crash in times of storm, in times of -calm with a sad soft lap-lapping—surge or ripple -the deathly cold waters of Lake Superior: -waters so cold that whoever drowns in them -sinks quickly—not to rise again (as the drowned -do usually), but for all time, in chill companionship -with the countless dead gathered -there through the ages, to be lost and hidden -in those icy depths.</p> - -<p>The ghastly coldness of the water in which -it is merged seems to have numbed the Point -and reconciled it to its bleak destiny. It has -accepted its fate: recognizing with a grim indifference -that its once glowing future has van<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_68" id="Page_68">[68]</a></span>ished -irrevocably into what now is the hopelessness -of its nearly forgotten past.</p> - -<div class="chapter"> -<h3>II</h3></div> - -<div class="figcenter2em"><img src="images/illo5.jpg" width="500" -height="223" alt="" title="" /></div> - -<p>George Maltham, wandering out on the Point -one Sunday morning in the early spring-time—he -had just come up from Chicago to take -charge of the Duluth end of his father's line -of lake steamers and was lonely in that strange -place, and was the more disposed to be misanthropic -because he had a headache left over -from the previous wet night at the club—came -promptly to the conclusion that he never had -struck a place so god-forsakenly dismal. Aside -from his own feelings, there was even more -than usual to justify this opinion. The day -was grey and chill. A strong northeast wind -was blowing that covered the lake with white-caps<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_69" id="Page_69">[69]</a></span> -and that sent a heavy surf rolling shoreward. -A little ice, left from the spring break-up, -still was floating in the harbour. Under -these conditions the Point was at its cheerless -worst.</p> - -<p>Maltham had crossed the canal by the row-boat -ferry. Having mounted the sodden steps -and looked about him for a moment—in which -time his conclusion was reached as to the Point's -god-forsaken dismalness—he was for abandoning -his intended explorations and going straight-away -back to the mainland. But when he turned -to descend the steps the boat had received -some waiting passengers—three church-bound -Swedish women in their Sunday clothes—and -had just pushed off. That little turn of chance -decided him. After all, he said to himself, -it did not make much difference. What he -wanted was a walk to rid him of his headache; -and the Point offered him, as the rocky hill-sides -of the mainland conspicuously did not, -a good long stretch of level land.</p> - -<p>Before him extended an absurdly wide street—laid -out in magnificent expectation of the -traffic that never came to it—flanked in far-reaching -perspective by the little houses which -sprang up in such a hurry when the "boom"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_70" id="Page_70">[70]</a></span> -was on. In its centre was the tramway, its -road-bed laid with wooden planks. The dingy -open tram-car, in which the church-bound Swedish -women had come up to the ferry, started -away creakingly while he stood watching it. -That was the only sight or sound of life. For -some little time, in the stillness, he could hear -the driver addressing Swedish remarks of an -encouraging or abusive nature to his mule.</p> - -<p>Taking the planked tramway in preference -to the rotten wooden sidewalks full of pitfalls, -Maltham walked on briskly for a mile or so—his -headache leaving him in the keen air—until -the last of the little houses was passed. There -the vast street suddenly dribbled off into a -straggling sandy road, which wound through -thickets of bushy white birch and a sparse -growth of stunted pines. The tramway, along -which he continued, went on through the brush -in a straight line. The Point had narrowed to -a couple of hundred yards. Through rifts in -the tangle about him he could see heaps of -storm-piled drift-wood scattered along the lake-side -beach—on which the surf was pounding -heavily. On the harbour side the beach was -broken by inthrusts of sedgy swamp. Presently -he came to a sandy open space in which, beside<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_71" id="Page_71">[71]</a></span> -a weather-worn little wooden church, was a neglected -graveyard that seemed to give the last -touch of dreariness to that dismal solitude.</p> - -<p>The graveyard was a waste of sand, save -where bushy patches of birch had sprung up -in it from wind-borne seeds. Swept by many -storms, the sandy mounds were disappearing. -Still marking the graves were a few shabby -wooden crosses and a dozen or so of slanting -or fallen wooden slabs. Once these short-lived -monuments had been painted white and had -borne legends in black lettering. But only a -Swedish word or a Swedish name remained here -and there legible—for the sun and the wind and -the rain had been doing their erasing work -steadily for years. One slab alone stood nearly -upright and retained a few partly decipherable -lines in English. But even on that Maltham -could make out only the scattered words: -"Sacred.... Ulrica.... Royal House of Sweden -... ever beloved ... of Major Calhoun -Ashley," and a date that seemed to be 1879.</p> - -<p>His headache had gone, but it had left him -heavy and dejected. That fragmentary epitaph -increased his sombreness. Even had he been -in a cheerful mood he could not have failed to -perceive the pathetic irony of it all. There<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_72" id="Page_72">[72]</a></span> -was more than the ordinary cruelty of death -and forgetfulness, he thought, about that grave -so desolate of one who had been connected—it -did not matter how—with a "royal house," -and who was described in those almost illegible -lines as "ever beloved." That was human -nature down to the hard pan, he thought; and -with a half-smile and a half-sigh over the fate -of that poor dead Ulrica he turned away from -the graveyard and walked on. Half-whimsically -he wondered if he had reached the climax of -the melancholy which brooded over that dreary -sand spit. As he stated the case to himself, -short of finding a man lying murdered among -the birch-bushes it was not likely that he would -strike anything able to raise that graveyard's -hand!</p> - -<p>The murdered man did not materialize, and -the next out-of-the-way sight that he came across—when -he had walked on past the dingy and -forgotten-looking little church—was a big ramshackling -wooden house of such pretentious -absurdity that his first glimpse of it fairly -made him laugh. Its square centre was a wooden -tower of three stories, battlemented, flanked -by two battlemented wings. A veranda ran -along the lower floor, and above the veranda<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_73" id="Page_73">[73]</a></span> -was a gallery. Some of the windows were boarded -over; others had scraps of carpet stuck into -their glassless gaps—and all had Venetian shutters -(singularly at odds with the climate of -that region) hanging dubiously and with many -broken slats. The paint had weathered away, -and bricks had fallen from the chimney-tops—a -loss which gave to the queer structure, in conjunction -with lapses in its wooden battlements, -a sadly broken-crested air. As a whole, it suggested -a badly done caricature of an old-fashioned -Southern homestead—of which the essence -of the caricature was finding it in that bleak -Northern land.</p> - -<div class="chapter"> -<h3>III</h3></div> - -<div class="figcenter2em"><img src="images/illo6.jpg" width="500" -height="220" alt="" title="" /></div> - -<p>Maltham had come to a full stop in front -of this absurd dwelling, which was set a little -back from the road in a dishevelled enclosure,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_74" id="Page_74">[74]</a></span> -and as he stood examining in an amused way -its various eccentricities he became aware that -from one of the lower windows a man was -watching him.</p> - -<p>This was disconcerting, and he turned to -walk on. But before he had gone a dozen steps -the front door opened and the man came outside. -He was dressed in shabby grey clothes -with a certain suggestion of a military cut about -them; but in spite of his shabbiness he had the -look of a gentleman. He was sixty, or thereabouts, -and seemed to have been well set up -when he was younger—before the slouch had -settled on his shoulders and before he had taken -on a good many unnecessary inches about his -waist. From where he stood on the veranda -he hailed Maltham cordially:</p> - -<p>"Won't yo' come in, suh? I have obsehved -youah smiles at my old house heah— No, -no, yo' owe me no apology, suh," he went on -quickly, as Maltham attempted a confused disclaimer. -"Yo' ah quite justified in laughing, -suh, at my foolish fancy—that went wrong -mainly because the Yankee ca'pentah whom I -employed to realize it was a hopelessly damned -fool. But it was a creditable sentiment, suh, -which led me to desiah to reproduce heah in god<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_75" id="Page_75">[75]</a></span>fo'saken -Minnesotah my ancestral home in the -grand old State of South Cahrolina—the house -that my grandfatheh built theah and named -Eutaw Castle, as I have named its pore successeh, -because of the honorable paht he bo' -in the battle of Eutaw Springs. The result, -I admit, is a thing to laugh at, suh—but not -the ideah. No, suh, not the ideah! But come -in, suh, come in! The exterioh of Eutaw Castle -may be a failuah; but within it, suh, yo' will -find in this cold No'th'en region the genuine -wahm hospitality of a true Southe'n home!"</p> - -<p>Maltham perceived that the only apology -which he could offer for laughing at this absurd -house—the absurdity of which became rather -pathetic, he thought, in view of its genesis—was -to accept its owner's invitation to enter it. -Acting on this conclusion, he turned into the -enclosure—the gate, hanging loosely on a single -hinge, was standing open—and mounted the -veranda steps.</p> - -<p>As he reached the top step his host advanced -and shook hands with him warmly. "Yo'ah -vehy welcome, suh," he said; and added, after -putting his hand to a pocket in search of something -that evidently was not there: "Ah, I find -that I have not my cahd-case about me. Yo'<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_76" id="Page_76">[76]</a></span> -must pehmit me to introduce myself: Majoh -Calhoun Ashley, of the Confedehrate sehvice, -suh—and vehy much at youahs."</p> - -<p>Maltham started a little as he heard this -name, and the small shock so far threw him off -his balance that as he handed his card to the -Major he said: "Then it was your name that -I saw just now in—" And stopped short, inwardly -cursing himself for his awkwardness.</p> - -<p>"That yo' saw in the little graveyahd, on the -tomb of my eveh-beloved wife, suh," the Major -replied—with a quaver in his voice which compelled -Maltham mentally to reverse his recent -generalizations. The Major was silent for a -moment, and then continued: "Heh grave is -not yet mahked fitly, suh, as no doubt yo' obsehved. -Cihcumstances oveh which I have had -no control have prevented me from erecting as -yet a suitable monument oveh heh sacred remains. -She was my queen, suh"—his voice -broke again—"and of a line of queens: a descendant, -suh, from a collateral branch of the -ancient royal house of Sweden. I am hoping, -I am hoping, suh, that I shall be able soon to -erect oveh heh last resting-place a monument -wo'thy of heh noble lineage and of hehself. I -am hoping, suh, to do that vehy soon."</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_77" id="Page_77">[77]</a></span></p> - -<p>The Major again was silent for a moment; -and then, pulling himself together, he looked -at Maltham's card—holding it a long way off -from his eyes. "Youah name is familiar to -me, suh," he said, "though fo' the moment -I do not place it, and I am most happy to make -youah acquaintance. But come in, suh, come -in. I am fo'getting myself—keeping you standing -this way outside of my own doah."</p> - -<p>He took Maltham cordially by the arm and -led him through the doorway into a wide bare -hall; and thence into a big room on the right, -that was very scantily furnished but that was -made cheerful by a rousing drift-wood fire. -Over the high mantel-piece was hung an officer's -sword with its belt. On the buckle of the belt -were the letters C. S. A. Excepting this rather -pregnant bit of decoration, the whitewashed -walls were bare.</p> - -<p>The Major bustled with hospitality—pulling -the bigger and more comfortable of two arm-chairs -to the fire and seating Maltham in it, -and then bringing out glasses and a bottle from -a queer structure of unpainted white pine that -stood at one end of the room and had the look -of a sideboard gone wrong.</p> - -<p>"At the moment, suh," he said apologetically,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_78" id="Page_78">[78]</a></span> -"my cellah is badly fuhnished and I am unable -to offeh yo' wine. But if yo' have an appreciative -taste fo' Bourbon," he went on with -more assurance, "I am satisfied that yo' will -find the ahticle in this bottle as sound as any -that the noble State of Kentucky eveh has produced. -Will yo' oblige me, suh, by saying -when!"</p> - -<p>Not knowing about the previous wet night, -and its still lingering consequences, the promptness -with which Maltham said "when" seemed -to disconcert the Major a little—but not sufficiently -to deter him from filling his own glass -with a handsome liberality. Holding it at -a level with his lips, he turned toward his -guest with the obvious intention of drinking -a toast.</p> - -<p>"May I have a little water, please?" put in -Maltham.</p> - -<p>"I beg youah pahdon, suh. I humbly beg -youah pahdon," the Major answered. "I am -not accustomed to dilute my own liquoh, and I -most thoughtlessly assumed that yo' would not -desiah to dilute youahs. I trust that yo' will -excuse my seeming rudeness, suh. Yo' shall -have at once the bevehrage which yo' desiah."</p> - -<p>While still apologizing, the Major placed<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_79" id="Page_79">[79]</a></span> -his glass on the table and went to the door. -Opening it he called: "Ulrica, my child, bring -a pitcheh of fresh wateh right away."</p> - -<p>Again Maltham gave a little start—as he had -done when the Major had introduced himself. -In a vague sub-conscious way he felt that there -was something uncanny in thus finding living -owners of names which he had seen, within that -very hour, scarcely legible above an uncared-for -grave. But the Major, talking on volubly, -did not give him much opportunity for these -psychological reflections; and presently there -was the sound of footsteps in the hall outside, -and then the door opened and the owner of the -grave-name appeared.</p> - -<div class="chapter"> -<h3>IV</h3></div> - -<div class="figcenter2em"><img src="images/illo7.jpg" width="500" -height="219" alt="" title="" /></div> - -<p>Because of the odd channel in which his -thoughts were running, Maltham had the still<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_80" id="Page_80">[80]</a></span> -odder fancy for an instant that the young -girl who entered the room was the dead Ulrica -of whom the Major had spoken—"a queen, -and of a line of queens." And even when this -thought had passed—so quickly that it was gone -before he had risen to his feet to greet her—the -impression of her queenliness remained. -For this living woman bearing a dead name -might have been Aslauga herself: so tall and -stately was she, and so fair with that cold -beauty of the North of which the soul is fire. -Instinctively he felt the fire, and knew that -it still slumbered—and knew, too, that in the -fulness of time, being awakened, it would -glow with a consuming splendour in her dark -eyes.</p> - -<p>All this went in a flash through his mind before -the Major said: "Pehmit me, Mr. Maltham, -to present yo' to my daughteh, Miss -Ulrica Ashley." And added: "Mr. Maltham -was passing, Ulrica, and did me the honeh to -accept my invitation to come in."</p> - -<p>She put down the pitcher of water and gave -Maltham her hand. "It was very kind of you, -sir," she said gravely. "We do not have many -visitors, and my father gets lonely with only -me. It was very kind of you, sir, indeed."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_81" id="Page_81">[81]</a></span> -She spoke with a certain precision, and with -a very slight accent—so slight that Maltham -did not immediately notice it. What he did -notice, with her first words, was the curiously -thrilling quality of her low-pitched and very -rich voice.</p> - -<p>"And don't you get lonely too?" he asked.</p> - -<p>"Why no," she answered with a little air -of surprise. And speaking slowly, as though -she were working the matter out in her mind, -she added: "With me it is different, you see. -I was born here on the Point and I love it. -And then I have the house to look after. And -I have my boat. And I can talk with the -neighbours—though I do not often care to. -Father cannot talk with them, because he does -not know Swedish as I do. When he wants -company he has to go all the way up to town. -You see, it is not the same with us at all." -And then, as though she had explained the -matter sufficiently, she turned to the Major -and asked: "Do you want anything more, -father?"</p> - -<p>"Nothing mo', my child—except that an extra -place is to be set at table. Mr. Maltham -will dine with us, of co'se."</p> - -<p>At this Maltham protested a little; but pres<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_82" id="Page_82">[82]</a></span>ently -yielded to Ulrica's, "You will be doing -a real kindness to father if you will stay, Mr. -Maltham," backed by the Major's peremptory: -"Yo' ah my prisoneh, suh, and in Eutaw Castle -we don't permit ouah prisonehs to stahve!" -The matter being thus settled, Ulrica made a -little formal bow and left the room.</p> - -<p>"The wateh is at youah sehvice, suh," said -the Major as the door closed behind her. "I -beg that yo' will dilute youah liquoh to youah -liking. Heah's to youah very good health, suh—and -to ouah betteh acquaintance." He drank -his whiskey appreciatively, and as he set down -his empty glass continued: "May I ask, suh, -if yo' ah living in Duluth, oh mehly passing -through? I ventuah to ask because a -resident of this town sca'cely would be likely -to come down on the Point at this time of -yeah."</p> - -<p>"I began to be a resident only day before -yesterday," Maltham answered. "I've come -to take charge here of our steamers—the Sunrise -Line."</p> - -<p>"The Sunrise Line!" repeated the Major in -a very eager tone. "The biggest transpo'tation -line on the lakes. The line of which that great -capitalist Mr. John L. Maltham is president.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_83" id="Page_83">[83]</a></span> -And to think, suh, that I did not recognize -youah name!"</p> - -<p>"John L. Maltham is my father," the young -man said.</p> - -<p>"Why, of co'se, of co'se! I might have had -the sense to know that as soon as I looked at -youah cahd. This is a most fo'tunate meeting, Mr. -Maltham—most fo'tunate for both of us. I shall -not on this occasion, when yo' ah my guest, enteh -into a discussion of business mattehs. But -at an eahly day I shall have the honeh to -lay befo' yo' convincing reasons why youah -tehminal docks should be established heah on -the Point—which a beneficent Providence cleahly -intended to be the shipping centeh of this -metropolis—and prefehrably, suh, as the meahest -glance at a chaht of the bay will demonstrate, -heah on my land. Yo' will have the first choice -of the wha'ves which I have projected; and I -may even say, suh, that any altehrations which -will affo'd mo' convenient accommodations to -youah vessels still ah possible. Yes, suh, the -matteh has not gone so fah but that any reasonable -changes which yo' may desiah may yet be -made."</p> - -<p>Remembering the sedgy swamps beside which -he had passed that morning, Maltham was<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_84" id="Page_84">[84]</a></span> -satisfied that the Major's concluding statement -was well within the bounds of truth. But he -was not prepared to meet off-hand so radical -a proposition, and while he was fumbling in his -mind for some sort of non-committal answer the -Major went on again.</p> - -<p>"It is not fo' myself, suh," he said, "that -I desiah to realize this magnificent undehtaking. -Living heah costs little, and what I get -from renting my land to camping pahties and -fo' picnics gives me all I need. And I'm an old -man, anyway, and whetheh I die rich oh pore -don't matteh. It's fo' my daughteh's sake that -I seek wealth, suh, not fo' my own. That deah -child of mine is heh sainted motheh oveh again, -Mr. Maltham—except that heh motheh's eyes -weh blue. That is the only diffehrence. And -beside heh looks she has identically the same -sweet natuah, suh—the same exquisite goodness -and beauty of haht. When my great -loss came to me," the Major's voice broke -badly, "it was my love fo' that deah child -kept me alive. It breaks my haht, suh, to -think of dying and leaving heh heah alone -and pore."</p> - -<p>Maltham had got to his bearings by this -time and was able to frame a reasonably diplo<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_85" id="Page_85">[85]</a></span>matic -reply. "Well, perhaps we'd better not -go into the matter to-day," he said. "You see, -our line has traffic agreements with the N. P. -and the Northwestern that must hold for the -present, anyway. And then I've only just taken -charge, you know, and I must look around a -little before I do anything at all. But I might -write to my father to come up here when -he can, and then he and you could have a -talk."</p> - -<p>The Major's look of eager cheerfulness faded -at the beginning of this cooling rejoinder, but -he brightened again at its end. "A talk with -youah fatheh, suh," he answered, "would suit -me down to the ground-flo'. An oppo'tunity -to discuss this great matteh info'mally with a -great capitalist has been what I've most desiahed -fo' yeahs. But I beg youah pahdon, suh. I -am fo'getting the sacred duties of hospitality. -Pehmit me to fill youah glass."</p> - -<p>It seemed to pain him that his guest refused -this invitation; but, finding him obdurate, he -kept the sacred duties of hospitality in working -order by exercising them freely upon himself. -"Heah's to the glorious futuah of Minnesotah -Point, suh!" he said as he raised his glass—and -it was obvious that he would be off again<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_86" id="Page_86">[86]</a></span> -upon the exploitation of his hopelessly impossible -project as soon as he put it down. -Greatly to Maltham's relief, the door opened -at that juncture and Ulrica entered to -call them to dinner; and he was still more -relieved, when they were seated at table, by -finding that his host dropped business matters -and left the glorious future of Minnesota Point -hanging in the air.</p> - -<p>At his own table, indeed, the Major was quite -at his best. He told good stories of his army -life, and of his adventurous wanderings which -ended when he struck Duluth just at the beginning -of its first "boom"; and very entertaining -was what he had to tell of that metropolis -in its embryotic days.</p> - -<p>But good though the Major's stories were, -Maltham found still more interesting the Major's -daughter—who spoke but little, and who -seemed to be quite lost at times in her own -thoughts. As he sat slightly turned toward her -father he could feel her eyes fixed upon him; -and more than once, facing about suddenly, -he met her look full. When this happened she -was not disconcerted, nor did she immediately -look away from him—and he found himself -thrilled curiously by her deeply intent gaze.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_87" id="Page_87">[87]</a></span> -Yet the very frankness of it gave it a quality -that was not precisely flattering. He had the -feeling that she was studying him in much the -same spirit that she would have studied some -strange creature that she might have come across -in her walks in the woods. When he tried to -bring her into the talk he did not succeed; -but this was mainly because the Major invariably -cut in before he could get beyond a direct -question and a direct reply. Only once—when -her father made some reference to her love -for sailing—was her reserve, which was not shyness, -a little broken; and the few words that -she spoke before the Major broke in again -were spoken so very eagerly that Maltham resolved -to bring her back to that subject when -he could get the chance. Knowing something -of the ways of women, he knew that to set her -to talking about anything in which she was -profoundly interested would lower her guard -at all points—and so would enable him to come -in touch with her thoughts. He wanted to get -at her thoughts. He was sure that they were -not of a commonplace kind.</p> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p class="p2"><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_88" id="Page_88">[88]</a></span></p> - - -<h3>V</h3></div> - -<div class="figcenter2em"><img src="images/illo8.jpg" width="500" -height="216" alt="" title="" /></div> - - -<p>When the dinner was ended he made a stroke -for the chance that he wanted. "Will you show -me your boat?" he asked. "I'm a bit of a -sailor myself, and I should like to see her -very much indeed."</p> - -<p>"Oh, would you? I am so glad!" she answered -eagerly. And then added more quietly: -"It is a real pleasure to show you the <i>Nixie</i>. -I am very fond of her and very proud of her. -Father gave her to me three years ago—after -he sold a lot over in West Superior. And it -was very good of him, because he does not like -sailing at all. Will you come now? It is only -a step down to the wharf."</p> - -<p>The Major declared that he must have his -after-dinner pipe in comfort, and they went off -without him—going out by a side door and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_89" id="Page_89">[89]</a></span> -across a half-acre of kitchen-garden, still in winter -disorder, to the wharf on the bay-side where -the <i>Nixie</i> was moored. She was a half-decked -twenty-foot cat-boat, clean in her lines and -with the look of being able to hold her own -pretty well in a blow.</p> - -<p>"Is she not beautiful?" Ulrica asked with -great pride. And presently, when Maltham -came to a pause in his praises, she added hesitatingly: -"Would you—would you care to -come out in her for a little while?"</p> - -<p>"Indeed I would!" he answered instantly -and earnestly.</p> - -<p>"Oh, thank you, thank you!" Ulrica exclaimed. -"I do want you to see how wonderfully -she sails!"</p> - -<p>The boat was moored with her stern close -to the wharf and with her bow made fast to -an outstanding stake. When they had boarded -her Ulrica cast off the stern mooring, ran the -boat out to the stake and made fast with a -short hitch, and then—as the boat swung around -slowly in the slack air under the land—set about -hoisting the sail. She would not permit Maltham -to help her. He sat aft, steadying the -tiller, watching with delight her vigorous dexterity -and her display of absolute strength.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_90" id="Page_90">[90]</a></span> -When she had sheeted home and made fast she -cast off the bow mooring, and then stepped -aft quickly and took the tiller from his hand. -For a few moments they drifted slowly. Then -the breeze, coming over the tree-tops, caught them -and she leaned forward and dropped the centreboard -and brought the boat on the wind. It was -a leading wind, directly off the lake, that enabled -them to make a single leg of it across the -bay. As the boat heeled over Maltham shifted -his seat to the weather side. This brought him -a little in front of Ulrica, and below her as -she stood to steer. From under the bows came -a soft hissing and bubbling as the boat slid -rapidly along.</p> - -<p>"Is she not wonderful?" Ulrica asked with a -glowing enthusiasm. "Just see how we are -dropping that big sloop over yonder—and the -Nixie not half her size! But the <i>Nixie</i> is -well bred, you see, and the sloop is not. She -is as heavy all over as the <i>Nixie</i> is clean and -fine. Father says that breeding is everything—in -boats and in horses and in men. He says -that a gentleman is the finest thing that God -ever created. It was because the Southerners -all were gentlemen that they whipped the Yankees, -you know."</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_91" id="Page_91">[91]</a></span></p> - -<p>"But they didn't—the Yankees whipped -them."</p> - -<p>"Only in the last few battles, father says—and -those did not count, so far as the principle -is concerned," Ulrica answered conclusively.</p> - -<p>Maltham did not see his way to replying -to this presentation of the matter and was -silent. Presently she went on, with a slight -air of apology: "I hope you did not mind my -looking at you so much while we were at dinner, -Mr. Maltham. You see, except father, you -are the only gentleman I ever have had a chance -to look at close, that way, in my whole life. -Father will not have much to do with the people -living up in town. Most of them are Yankees, -and he does not like them. None of them ever -come to see us. The only people I ever talk with -are our neighbours; and they are just common -people, you know—though some of them are -as good as they can be. And as father always -is talking about what a gentleman ought to be -or ought not to be it is very interesting really -to meet one. That was the reason why I -stared at you so. I hope you did not mind."</p> - -<p>"I'm glad I interested you, even if it was -only as a specimen of a class," Maltham answer<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_92" id="Page_92">[92]</a></span>ed. -"I hope that you found me a good specimen." -Her simplicity was so refreshing that -he sought by a leading question to induce a -farther exhibition of it. "What is your ideal -of a gentleman?" he asked.</p> - -<p>"Oh, just the ordinary one," she replied in -a matter-of-fact tone. "A gentleman must be -absolutely brave, and must kill any man who -insults him—or, at least, must hurt him badly. -He must be absolutely honest—though he is not -bound, of course, to tell all that he knows when -he is selling a horse. He must be absolutely true -to the woman he loves, and must never deceive -her in any way. He must not refuse to drink -with another gentleman unless he is willing to -fight him. He must protect women and children. -He must always be courteous—though -he may be excused for a little rudeness when he -has been drinking and so is not quite himself. -He must be hospitable—ready to share his last -crust with anybody, and his last drink with -anybody of his class. And he must know how -to ride and shoot and play the principal games -of cards. Those are the main things. You are -all that, are you not?"</p> - -<p>She looked straight at him as she asked this -question, speaking still in the same entirely<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_93" id="Page_93">[93]</a></span> -matter-of-fact tone. But Maltham did not look -straight back at her as he answered it. The -creed that she set forth had queer articles in -it, but its essentials were searching—so searching -that his look was directed rather indefinitely -toward the horizon as he replied, a little weakly -perhaps: "Why, of course."</p> - -<p>She seemed to be content with this not wholly -conclusive answer; but as he was not content -with it himself, and rather dreaded a cross-examination, -he somewhat suddenly shifted the -talk to a subject that he was sure would engross -her thoughts. "How splendidly the <i>Nixie</i> -goes!" he said. "She is a racer, and no mistake!"</p> - -<p>"Indeed she is!" Ulrica exclaimed, with the -fervour upon which he had counted. "She is -the very fastest boat on the bay. And then -she is so weatherly! Why, I can sail her into -the very eye of the wind!"</p> - -<p>"Yes, she has the look of being weatherly. -But she wouldn't be if you didn't manage her -so well. Who taught you how to sail?"</p> - -<p>"It was old Gustav Bergmann—one of the -fishermen here on the Point, you know. And -he said," she went on with a little touch of -pride, "that he never could have made such a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_94" id="Page_94">[94]</a></span> -good sailor of me if I had not had it in my -blood—because I am a Swede."</p> - -<p>"But you are an American."</p> - -<p>Ulrica did not answer him immediately, -and when she did speak it was with the same -curiously slow thoughtfulness that he had observed -when she was explaining the difference -between her father's life and her own life in -the solitude of Minnesota Point.</p> - -<p>"I do not think I am," she said. "I do -not know many American women, but I am not -like any American woman I know. You see, -I am very like my mother. Father says so, and -I feel it—I cannot tell you just how I feel -it, but I do. For one thing, I am more than -half a savage, father says—like some of the -wild Indians he has known. He is in fun, -of course, when he says that; but he really is -right, I am sure. Did you ever want to kill -anybody, Mr. Maltham?"</p> - -<p>"No," said Maltham with a laugh, "I never -did. Did you?"</p> - -<p>Ulrica remained grave. "Yes," she answered, -"and I almost did it, too. You see, -it was this way: A man, one of the campers -down on the Point, was rude to me. He was -drunk, I think. But I did not think about<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_95" id="Page_95">[95]</a></span> -his being drunk, and that I ought to make allowances -for him. Somehow, I had not time -to think. Everything got red suddenly—and -before I knew what I was doing I had out my -knife. The man gave a scream—not a cry, -but a real scream: he must have been a great -coward, I suppose—and jumped away just as -I struck at him. I cut his arm a little, I think. -But I am not sure, for he ran away as hard as -he could run. I was very sorry that I had -not killed him. I am very sorry still whenever -I think about it. Now that was not like -an American woman. At least, I do not know -any American woman who would try to kill -a man that way because she really could not -help trying to. Do you?"</p> - -<p>"No," Maltham answered, drawing a quick -breath that came close to being a gasp. Ulrica's -entire placidity, and her argumentative manner, -had made her story rather coldly thrilling—and -it was quite thrilling enough without -those adjuncts, he thought.</p> - -<p>She seemed pleased that his answer confirmed -her own opinion. "Yes, I think I am right -about myself," she went on. "I am sure that -it is my Swedish blood that makes me like -that. We do not often get angry, you know,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_96" id="Page_96">[96]</a></span> -we Swedes: but when we do, our anger is -rage. We do not think nor reason. Suddenly -we see red, as I did that day, and we want -to strike to kill. It is queer, is it not, that we -should be made like that?"</p> - -<p>Maltham certainly was discovering the -strange thoughts that he had set himself to -search for. They rather set his nerves on edge. -As she uttered her calm reflection upon the -oddity of the Swedish temperament he shivered -a little.</p> - -<p>"I am afraid that you are cold," she said -anxiously. "Shall we go about? Father will -not like it if I make you uncomfortable."</p> - -<p>"I am not at all cold," he answered. "And -the sailing is delightful. Don't let us go about -yet."</p> - -<p>"Well, if you are quite sure that you are -not cold, we will not. I do want to take you -down to the inlet and show you what a glorious -sea is running on the lake to-day. It is only -half a mile more."</p> - -<p>They sailed on for a little while in silence. -The swift send of the boat through the water -seemed so to fill Ulrica with delight that she -did not care to speak—nor did Maltham, who -was busied with his own confused thoughts.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_97" id="Page_97">[97]</a></span> -Suddenly some new and startling concepts of -manhood and of womanhood had been thrust -into his mind. They puzzled him, and he was -not at all sure that he liked them. But he -was absolutely sure that this curious and very -beautiful woman who had uttered them interested -him more profoundly than any woman whom -ever he had known. That fact also bothered -him, and he tried to blink it. That he could -not blink it was one reason why his thoughts -were confused. Presently, being accustomed to -slide along the lines of least resistance, he gave -up trying. "After all," was his conclusion, so -far as he came to a conclusion, "it is only for -a day."</p> - -<div class="chapter"> -<h3>VI</h3></div> - -<div class="figcenter2em"><img src="images/illo9.jpg" width="500" -height="216" alt="" title="" /></div> - -<p>As they neared the inlet the water roughened -a little and the wind grew stronger. Ulrica -eased off the sheet, and steadied it with a turn<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_98" id="Page_98">[98]</a></span> -around the pin. In a few minutes more they -had opened the inlet fairly, and beyond it -could see the lake—stretching away indefinitely -until its cold grey surface was lost against the -cold grey sky. A very heavy sea was running. -In every direction was the gleam of white-caps. -On the beaches to the left and right of them -a high surf was booming in. They ran on, close-hauled, -until they were nearly through the inlet -and were come into a bubble of water that set -the boat to dancing like a cork. Now and then, -as she fell off, a wave would take her with a -thump and cover them with a cloud of spray.</p> - -<p>The helm was pulling hard, but Ulrica managed -it as easily and as knowingly as she had -managed the setting of the sail—standing with -her feet well apart, firmly braced, her tall -figure yielding to the boat's motion with a superb -grace. Suddenly a gust of wind carried -away her hat, and in another moment the great -mass of her golden hair was blowing out behind -her in the strong eddy from the sail. Her face -was radiant. Every drop of her Norse blood was -tingling in her veins. Aslauga herself never -was more gloriously beautiful—and never more -joyously drove her boat onward through a -stormy sea.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_99" id="Page_99">[99]</a></span></p> - -<p>But Maltham did not perceive her beauty, -nor did he in the least share her glowing enthusiasm. -He had passed beyond mere nervousness -and was beginning to be frightened. It seemed -to him that she let the boat fall off purposely—as -though to give the waves a chance to buffet -it, and then to show her command over them -by bringing it up again sharply into the wind; -and he was certain that if they carried on for -another five minutes, and so got outside the -inlet, they would be swamped.</p> - -<p>"Don't you think that we had better go -about?" he asked. It did not please him to -find that he had not complete control over his -voice.</p> - -<p>"But it is so glorious," she answered. -"Shall we not keep on just a little way?"</p> - -<p>"No!" he said sharply. "We must go about -at once. We are in great danger as it is." -He felt that he had turned pale. In spite of -his strong effort to steady it, his voice shook -badly and also was a little shrill.</p> - -<p>"Oh, of course," she replied, with a queer -glance at him that he did not at all fancy; -"if you feel that way about it we will." The -radiance died away from her face as she spoke, -and with it went her intoxication of delight. And<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_100" id="Page_100">[100]</a></span> -then her expression grew anxious as she looked -about her, and in an anxious tone she added: -"Indeed you are quite right, Mr. Maltham. -We really are in a bad place here. I ought -never to have come out so far. We must try -to get back at once. But it will not be easy. -I am not sure that the <i>Nixie</i> will stand it. -I am sure, though, that she will do her best—and -I will try to wear her as soon as I see -a chance."</p> - -<p>She luffed a little, that she might get more -sea-room to leeward, and scanned the oncoming -waves closely but without a sign of fear. -"Now I think I can do it," she said presently, -and put up the helm.</p> - -<p>It was a ticklish move, for they were at the -very mouth of the inlet, but the <i>Nixie</i> paid off -steadily until she came full into the trough of -the sea. There she wallowed for a bad ten -seconds. A wave broke over the coaming of the -cockpit and set it all aflow. Maltham went still -whiter, and began to take off his coat. It was -with the greatest difficulty that he kept back a -scream. Then the boat swung around to her -course—Ulrica's hold upon the tiller was a very -steady one—and in another minute they were -sliding back safely before the wind. In five<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_101" id="Page_101">[101]</a></span> -minutes more they were in the smooth water -of the bay.</p> - -<p>Ulrica was the first to speak, and she spoke -in most contrite tones. "It was very, very -wrong in me to do that, Mr. Maltham," she -said. "And it was wicked of me, too—for I -have given my solemn promise to father that -I never will go out on the lake when it is -rough at all. Please, please forgive me for taking -you into such danger in such a foolish way. -It was touch and go, you know, that we pulled -through. Please say that you forgive me. It -will make me a little less wretched if you do."</p> - -<p>The danger was all over, and Maltham had -got back both his color and his courage again. -"Why, it was nothing!" he said. "Or, rather, -it was a good deal—for it gave me a chance to -see what a magnificent sailor you are. And—and -it was splendidly exciting out there, wasn't -it?"</p> - -<p>"Wasn't it!" she echoed rapturously. "And -oh," she went on, "I <i>am</i> so glad that you take -it that way! It is a real load off my mind! -Will you please take the tiller for a minute -while I put up my hair?"</p> - -<p>As she arranged the shining masses of her -golden hair—her full round arms uplifted, the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_102" id="Page_102">[102]</a></span> -wind pressing her draperies close about her—Maltham -watched her with a burning intentness. -The glowing reaction following escape from -mortal peril was upon him and the tide of his -barely saved life was running full. In Ulrica's -stronger nature the same tide may have been -running still more impetuously. For an instant -their eyes met. She flushed and looked -away.</p> - -<p>He did not speak, and the silence seemed -to grow irksome to her. She broke it, but with -a perceptible effort, as she took the tiller again. -"Do you know," she said, "I did think for -a minute that you were scared." She laughed -a little, and then went on more easily: "And -if you really had been scared I should have -known, of course, that you were not a gentleman! -Was it not absurd?"</p> - -<p>Her words roused him, and at the same time -chilled him. "Yes, it was very absurd," he -answered not quite easily. And then, with -presence of mind added: "But I <i>was</i> scared, -and badly scared—for you. I did not see how -I possibly could get you ashore if the boat -filled."</p> - -<p>"You could not have done it—we should -have been drowned," Ulrica replied with quiet<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_103" id="Page_103">[103]</a></span> -conviction. "But because you are a gentleman -it was natural, I suppose, for you not to -think about yourself and to worry that way -about me. You could not help it, of course—but -I like it, all the same."</p> - -<p>Maltham reddened slightly. Instead of answering -her he asked: "Would you mind running -up along the Point and landing me on the -other side of the canal? I want to hurry home -and get into dry things—and that will save me -a lot of time, you know."</p> - -<p>"Oh," she cried in a tone of deep concern, -"are you not coming back with me? I shall -have a dreadful time with father, and I am -counting on you to help me through."</p> - -<p>Maltham had foreseen that trouble with the -Major was impending, and wanted to keep out -of it. He disliked scenes. "Of course, if you -want me to, I'll go back with you," he answered. -And added, drawing himself together and -shivering a little, "I don't believe that I shall -catch much cold."</p> - -<p>"What a selfish creature I am!" Ulrica exclaimed -impetuously. "Of course you must -hurry home as fast as you can. What I shall -get from father will not be the half of what -I deserve. And to think of my thinking about<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_104" id="Page_104">[104]</a></span> -your getting me off from a scolding at the cost -of your being ill! Please do not hate me for -it—though you ought to, I am sure!"</p> - -<p>Having carried his point, Maltham could afford -to be amiable again. He looked straight -into her eyes, and for an instant touched her -hand, as he said: "No, I shall not—hate -you!" His voice was low. He drawled slightly. -The break gave to his phrase a telling -emphasis.</p> - -<p>It was not quite fair. He knew thoroughly -the game that he was playing; while Ulrica, -save so far as her instinct might guide her, -did not know it at all. She did not answer him—and -he was silent because silence just then -was the right move. And so they went on without -words until they were come to the landing-place -beside the canal. Even then—for he did -not wish to weaken a strong impression—he -made the parting a short one: urging that she -also must hurry home and get on dry clothes. It -did not strike her, either then or later, that he -would have shown a more practical solicitude -in the premises had he not made her come three -miles out of her way.</p> - -<p>Indeed, as she sailed those three miles back -again, her mind was in no condition to work<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_105" id="Page_105">[105]</a></span> -clearly. In a confused way, that yet was very -delightful, she went over to herself the events -of that wonderful day—in which, as she vaguely -realized, her girlhood had ended and her womanhood -had begun. But she dwelt most upon -the look that he had given her when he told -her, with the break in his phrase, that he would -not hate her; and upon the touch of his hand -at parting, and his final speech, also with a -break in it: "I shall see you to-morrow—if you -care to have me come."</p> - -<p>At the club that evening Maltham wrote a -very entertaining letter to Miss Eleanor Strangford, -in Chicago: telling her about the queer -old Major and his half-wild daughter, and how -the daughter had taken him out sailing and -had brought him back drenched through. He -was a believer in frankness, and this letter—while -not exhaustive—was of a sort to put him -right on the record in case an account of his -adventures should reach his correspondent by -some other way. He would have written it -promptly in any circumstances. It was the -more apposite because he had promised to -write every Sunday to Miss Strangford—to -whom he was engaged.</p> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p class="p2"><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_106" id="Page_106">[106]</a></span></p> - - -<h3>VII</h3></div> - - -<div class="figcenter2em"><img src="images/illo10.jpg" width="500" -height="221" alt="" title="" /></div> - -<p>Maltham left his office early the next afternoon -and went down the Point again. He had -no headache, the wind had shifted to the southward, -and all about him was a flood of spring sunshine. -Yet even under these cheerful conditions -he found the Point rather drearily desolate. He -gave the graveyard a wide berth when he came -to it, and looked away from it. His desire was -strong that he might forget where he had seen -Ulrica's name for the first time. He was not -superstitious, exactly; but his sub-consciousness -that the direction in which he was sliding—along -the lines of least resistance—was at least -questionable, made him rather open to feelings -about bad and good luck.</p> - -<p>Being arrived at Eutaw Castle, he inferred<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_107" id="Page_107">[107]</a></span> -from what the Major said and from what Ulrica -looked that the domestic storm of the previous -day had been a vigorous one—and was -glad that he had kept out of it. But it had -blown over pretty well, and his good-natured -chaff about their adventure swept away the few -remaining clouds.</p> - -<p>"It is vehy handsome of yo', suh," said the -Major, "to treat the matteh as yo' do. My -daughteh's conduct was most inexcusable—fo' -when she cahried yo' into that great dangeh she -broke heh sacred wo'd to me."</p> - -<p>"But it was quite as much my fault as hers," -Maltham answered. "I should not have let her -go. You see, the sailing was so delightfully -exciting that we both lost our heads a little. -Luckily, I got mine back before it was too late."</p> - -<p>"Yo' behaved nobly, suh, nobly! My daughteh -has told me how youah only thought was -of heh dangeh, and how white yo' went when yo' -realized youah inability to save heh if the boat -went down. Those weh the feelings of a gentleman, -suh, and of a vehy gallant gentleman—such -as yo' suahly ah. Youah conduct could -not have been fineh, Mr. Maltham, had yo' been -bo'n and bred in South Cahrolina. Suh, I can -say no mo' than that!"</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_108" id="Page_108">[108]</a></span></p> - -<p>Ulrica took little part in the talk. Her eyes -were dull and she moved languidly, as though -she were weary. Not until her father left -the room—going to fetch his maps and charts, -that he might demonstrate the Point's glorious -future—did she speak freely.</p> - -<p>"I could not sleep last night, Mr. Maltham," -she said hurriedly. "I lay awake the whole -night—thinking about what I had done, and -about what you must think about me for doing -it. If I had drowned you, after breaking my -word to father that way, it would have been -almost murder. It was very noble of you, just -now, to say that it was as much your fault as -it was mine. But it was not. It was my fault -all the way through."</p> - -<p>"But the danger was just as great for you -as it was for me," Maltham answered. "You -would have been drowned too, you know."</p> - -<p>"Oh, that would not have counted. It would -not have counted at all. I should have got -only what I deserved."</p> - -<p>Maltham came close to her and took her -hand. "Don't you think that it would have -counted for a good deal to <i>me</i>?" he asked. Then -he dropped her hand quickly and moved away -from her as the Major re-entered the room.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_109" id="Page_109">[109]</a></span></p> - -<p>Inasmuch as he would have been drowned -along with her, this speech was lacking in -logic; but Ulrica, who was not on the lookout -for logic just then, was more than satisfied with -it. Suddenly she was elate again. For the -dread that had kept her wakeful had vanished: -his second thoughts about the peril into which -she had taken him had not set him against -her—he still was the same! She could not -answer him with her lips, but she answered -him with her eyes.</p> - -<p>Maltham's feelings were complex as he saw -the effect that his words had upon her. He had -made several resolutions not to say anything -of that sort to her again. Even if she did like -flirting (as he had put it in his own mind) it -was not quite the thing, under the existing -conditions, for him to flirt with her. He resolutely -kept the word flirting well forward in -his thoughts. It agreeably qualified the entire -situation. As he very well knew, Miss Strangford -was not above flirting herself. But it -was not easy to classify under that head Ulrica's -sudden change in manner and the look that she -had given him. In spite of himself, his first -impression of her would come back and get -in the way of the new impression that he very<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_110" id="Page_110">[110]</a></span> -much wished to form. When he first had -seen her—only the day before, but time does -not count in the ordinary way in the case of -those who have been close to the gates of death -together—he had felt the fire that was in her, -and had known that it slumbered. After what -he had just seen in her eyes he could not conquer -the conviction that the fire slumbered no -longer and that he had kindled its strong flame.</p> - -<p>Nor did he wholly wish to conquer this conviction. -It was thrillingly delightful to think -that he had gained so great a power over her, for -all her queenliness, in so short a time. Over -Miss Strangford—the contrast was a natural -one—he had very little power. That young -lady was not queenly, but she had a notable -aptitude for ruling—and came by it honestly, -from a father whose hard head and hard hand -made him conspicuous even among Chicago men -of affairs. It was her strength that had attracted -him to her; and the discovery that with -her strength was sweetness that had made him -love her. He was satisfied that she loved him -in return—but he could not fancy her giving -him such a look as Ulrica had just given him; -still less could he fancy her whole being irradiated -by a touch and a word.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_111" id="Page_111">[111]</a></span> -And so he came again to the same half-formed -conclusion that he had come to in the boat -on the preceding day: he would let matters -drift along pleasantly a little farther before -he set them as they should be with a strong -hand.</p> - -<p>This chain of thought went through his mind -while the Major was exhibiting the maps and -expounding the Point's future; and his half-conclusion -was a little hastened by the Major's -abrupt stop, and sudden facing about upon -him with: "I feah, suh, that yo' do not quite -follow me. If I have not made myself cleah, -suh, I will present the matteh in anotheh -way."</p> - -<p>Maltham shot a quizzical glance at Ulrica—which -made her think that she knew where -his thoughts had been wool-gathering, and so -brought more light to her eyes—and answered -with a becoming gravity: "The fact is I didn't -quite catch the point that you were making, -Major, and I'll be very much obliged if you'll -take the trouble to go over it again."</p> - -<p>"It is no trouble—it is a pleasuah, suh," -the Major replied with an animated affability. -And with that he was off again, and ran on for -an hour or more—until he had established the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_112" id="Page_112">[112]</a></span> -glorious future of Minnesota Point in what -he believed to be convincing terms. "When the -time to which I am looking fo'wa'd comes, Mr. -Maltham, and it will come vehy soon, suh," he -said in enthusiastic conclusion, "it stands to -reason that the fortunes of this great metropolis -of the No'thwest will be fo'eveh and unchangeably -established. Only I must wahn yo', suh, -that we must begin to get ready fo' it right away. -We must take time by the fo'lock and provide -at once—I say at once, suh—fo' the needs of -that magnificent futuah that is almost heah -now!"</p> - -<p>He took a long breath as he finished his -peroration, and then came down smiling to the -level of ordinary conversation and added: "I -feah, Mr. Maltham, that I pehmit my enthusiasm -to get away with me a little. I feah I -may even boah yo', suh. I promise not to -say anotheh wohd on the subject this evening. -And now, as it is only a little while befo' suppeh, -we cannot do betteh, suh, than to take a -drink."</p> - -<p>Maltham had not intended to stay to supper. -He even had intended not to. But he did—and -on through the evening until the Major had to -warn him that he either must consent to sleep<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_113" id="Page_113">[113]</a></span> -in Eutaw Castle or else hurry along up the -Point before the ferry-boat stopped running -for the night. The Major urged him warmly -to stay. Finding that his invitation certainly -would not be accepted, he went off for a lantern—and -was rather put out when Maltham -declined it and said that he could find his -way very well by the light of the stars.</p> - -<p>Actually, Maltham did not find his way very -well by the light of the stars. Two or three -times he ran against trees. Once—this was -while he was trying to give the graveyard a -wide offing—he stumbled over a root and fell -heavily. When he got up again he found that -he had wrenched his leg, and that every step -he took gave him intense pain. But he was -glad of his flounderings against trees, and of -his fall and the keen pain that followed it—for -he was savage with himself.</p> - -<p>And yet it was not his fault, he grumbled. -Why had the Major gone off that way to hunt -up a lantern—and so left them alone? Toward -the end of his walk—his pain having quieted -his excitement, and so lessened his hatred -of himself—he added much more lightly: -"But what does a single kiss amount to, after -all?"</p> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p class="p2"><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_114" id="Page_114">[114]</a></span></p> - - -<h3>VIII</h3></div> - - -<div class="figcenter2em"><img src="images/illo11.jpg" width="500" -height="222" alt="" title="" /></div> - -<p>It was on a day in the early autumn that -Maltham at last decided definitely—making -effective his half-formed resolution of the -spring-time—to stop drifting and to set things -as they should be with a strong hand. But -he had to admit, even as he formed this resolution, -that setting things quite as they should -be no longer was within his power.</p> - -<p>The summer had gone quickly, most astonishingly -quickly, he thought; and for the most -part pleasantly—though it had been broken by -certain interludes, not pleasant, during which -he had been even more savage with himself than -he had been during that walk homeward from -Eutaw Castle in the dark. But, no matter how -it had gone, the summer definitely was ended—and -so were his amusing sessions with the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_115" id="Page_115">[115]</a></span> -Major over the future of Minnesota Point, and -his sails with Ulrica on the lake and about the -bay. Ice already had begun to form in the -sheltered parts of the harbour, and the next -shift of wind into the North would close the -port for the winter by freezing everything hard -and fast. All the big ships had steamed away -eastward. On the previous day he had despatched -the last vessel of his own line. His work for -the season was over, and he was ready to return -to Chicago. In fact, he had his berth engaged -on that night's train. Moreover, in another -month he was to be married: in her latest -letter Miss Strangford had fixed the day. Then -they were going over to the Riviera, and probably -to Egypt. In the spring they were coming -back again, but not to Duluth nor even to -Chicago. He was to take charge of the Eastern -office of the line, and their home would be in -New York. These various moves were so definite -and so final as to justify him in saying -to himself, as he did say to himself, that the -Duluth episode was closed.</p> - -<p>He had hesitated about going down to Eutaw -Castle to say good-bye, but in the end had perceived -that the visit was a necessity. The -Major and Ulrica knew that he was to leave<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_116" id="Page_116">[116]</a></span> -Duluth when navigation was closed for the winter—indeed, -of late, Ulrica had referred to -that fact frequently—but he had not confided -to them the remainder of his rather radical -programme. He meant to do that later by letter—from -the Riviera or from Egypt. In the -mean time, until he was married and across the -Atlantic, it was essential to keep unbroken the -friendly relations which had made his summer—even -with its bad interludes—so keenly delightful -to him; and to go away without paying -a farewell visit he knew would be to risk a -rupture that very easily might lead on to a -catastrophe. Moreover, as he said to himself, -there need not be anything final about it. Even -though the harbour did freeze, the railways remained -open—and it was only sixteen hours -from Chicago to Duluth by the fast train. To -suggest that he might be running up again soon -would be a very simple matter: and would not -be straining the truth, for he knew that the -pull upon him to run up in just that way would -be almost irresistibly strong.</p> - -<p>In fact, the pull was of such strength that all -of his not excessive will power had to be exerted -to make him go away at all—at least, to go away -alone. Very many times he had thought of the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_117" id="Page_117">[117]</a></span> -possibility of reversing his programme completely: -of making his wedding journey with -Ulrica, and of writing from some far-off place -to Miss Strangford that he had happened to -marry somebody else and that she was free. -But each time that he had considered this -alternative he had realized that its cost would -come too high: a break with his own people, -the loss of the good berth open to him in New -York, the loss of his share of Miss Strangford's -share of the grain-elevators and other desirable -properties which would come to her when her -father died. But for these practical considerations, -as he frequently and sorrowingly had -assured himself, he would not have hesitated -for a moment—being satisfied that, aside from -them, such a reversal of his plans would be -better in every way. For he knew that while -Miss Strangford had and Ulrica had not his -formal promise to marry her, it was Ulrica -who had the firmer hold upon his heart; and he -also knew that while Ulrica would meet his -decision against her savagely—and, as he believed, -feebly—with her passion, Miss Strangford -would meet the reverse of that decision -calmly and firmly with her strength. The dilemma -so nearly touched the verge of his en<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_118" id="Page_118">[118]</a></span>durance -that he even had contemplated evading -it altogether by shooting himself. But he had -not got beyond contemplation. For that sort -of thing he was lacking in nerve.</p> - -<p>It was because facing what he knew was a -final parting—even though Ulrica would not -know it—would be so bitter hard for him that -he had hesitated about making his visit of good-bye. -But when he had decided that it was a necessity—that -the risk involved in not making it -outweighed the pain that it would cost him—he -came about again: adding to his argument, almost -with a sob, that he could not go away like -that, anyhow—that he <i>must</i> see her once more!</p> - -<p>And so he went down the Point again, knowing -that he went for the last time—and on much -the same sort of a day, as it happened, as that -on which his first visit had been made: a grey, -chill day, with a strong wind drawing down the -lake that tufted it with white-caps and that sent -a heavy surf booming in upon the shore. He -had no headache, but he had a heartache that -was still harder to bear.</p> - -<p>He had intended to take the tram-car—that -he might hurry down to the Castle, and get -through with what he had to do there, and so -away again quickly. But when he had crossed<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_119" id="Page_119">[119]</a></span> -the canal he let the car go off without him—for -the good reason that the meeting and the parting -might not come so soon. And for this same -reason he walked slowly, irresolutely. Once or -twice he halted and almost turned back. It all -was very unlike his brisk, assured advance on that -far back day—ages before, it seemed to him—when -he went down the Point for the first time.</p> - -<p>As he went onward, slowly, he was thinking -about that day: how it had been without intention -that he turned eastward instead of westward -when he started on his walk; how a whim -of the moment had led him to cross the canal; -how the mere chance of the three church-bound -women hurrying into the ferry-boat had prevented -his immediate return. He fell to wondering, -dully, what "chance" is, anyway—this -force which with a grim humour uses our most -unconsidered actions for the making or the unmaking -of our lives; and the hopeless puzzle -of it all kept his mind unprofitably employed -until he had passed the last of the little houses, -and had gone on through the stunted pines, -and so was come to the desolate graveyard.</p> - -<p>He did not shun the graveyard, as he had -shunned it all the summer long. The need for -that was past—now that, in reality, Ulrica's<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_120" id="Page_120">[120]</a></span> -name had come to be to him a name upon a -grave. For a while he stood with his arms -resting on the broken fence, looking before him -in a dull way and feeling a dull surprise because -he found the dismal place still precisely as he -remembered it. That in so very long a time -it should not have become more ruinous seemed -to him unreasonable. Then he walked on past -the little church, still slowly and hesitatingly, -and so came at last to the Castle. Oddly enough, -the Major was standing again at the same lower -window, and saw him, and came out to welcome -him. For a moment he had a queer feeling that -perhaps it still was that first day—that he might -have been dozing in the pine woods, somewhere, -and that the past summer was all a dream.</p> - -<p>The Major was beaming with friendliness. -"Aha, Masteh Geo'ge, I'm glad to see yo' and -to congratulate yo'!" he said heartily. And -he gave Maltham a cordial dig in the ribs as he -added: "Yo' ah a sly dog, a vehy sly dog, my -boy, to keep youah secret from us! But I happened -to be up in town yestehday, and by the -mehest chance I met Captain Todd, of youah -boat, and he told me why yo' ah going back to -Chicago in such a huhy, suh! It is a great -match, a magnificent match that yo' ah mak<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_121" id="Page_121">[121]</a></span>ing, -Geo'ge, and I congratulate yo' with all -my haht. I should be glad of the oppo'tunity -to congratulate Miss Strangfo'd also. Fo' I am -not flattehing yo', Geo'ge, when I tell yo' that -she could not have found a betteh husband had -she gone to look fo' him in South Cahrolina. -Suh, I can say no mo' than that!"</p> - -<p>The Major's speech was long enough, fortunately, -for Maltham to get over the shock of -its beginning before he had to answer it. But -even with that breathing space his answer was -so lame that the Major had to invent an excuse -for its lack of heartiness. "I don't doubt that -afteh youah chilly walk, Geo'ge, yo' ah half -frozen," he said. "Come right in and have -a drink. It will do yo' good, suh. It will take -the chill out of youah bones!"</p> - -<p>Maltham was glad to accept this invitation, -and the size of the drink that he took did the -Major's heart good. "That's right, Geo'ge!" -he said with great approval. "A South-Cahrolinian -couldn't show a betteh appreciation of -good liquoh than that!" He raised his glass -and continued: "I drink, suh, to Miss Strangfo'd's -health, and to youahs. May yo' both have -the long lives of happiness that yo' both desehve!"</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_122" id="Page_122">[122]</a></span> -He put down his empty glass and added: -"I will call Ulrica. She will be glad to see -yo' and to offeh yo' heh congratulations." He -paused for a moment, and then went on in a -less cheerful tone: "But I must wahn yo', -Geo'ge, that she has a bad headache and is not -quite hehself to-day—and so may not manifest -that wahm co'diality in regahd to youah present -and futuah happiness that she suahly feels. -I confess, Geo'ge," the Major continued anxiously, -"I am not quite comfo'table about heh. -She seems mo' out of so'ts than a meah headache -ought to make heh. And fo' the last -month and mo', as yo' may have obsehved youahself, -she has not seemed to be hehself at all. -I don't mind speaking this way frankly to yo', -Geo'ge, fo' yo' know how my haht is wrapped -up in heh. As I once told yo', it was only my -love fo' that deah child that kept me alive when -heh motheh left me," the Major's voice was very -unsteady, "and it is God's own truth that if -anything went wrong with heh; if—if I weh -to lose heh too, Geo'ge, I suahly should want -to give right up and die. I could not live without -heh—I don't think that I could live without -heh fo' a single day!"</p> - -<p>There were tears in the Major's eyes as he<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_123" id="Page_123">[123]</a></span> -spoke, and his last word was almost a sob. Maltham -was very pale. He did not attempt an -answer.</p> - -<p>"Thank yo', Geo'ge," the Major went on -presently. "I see by youah looks that I have -youah sympathy. I am most grateful to yo' fo' -it, most grateful indeed!" In a moment he -added: "Hahk! She's coming now! I heah -heh step outside. Hahk how heavy and slow -it is—and she always as light on heh feet as -a bird! To heah heh walk that way almost -breaks my haht!" And then he checked himself -suddenly, and tried to look rather unusually -cheerful as Ulrica entered the room.</p> - -<div class="chapter"> -<h3>IX</h3></div> - - -<div class="figcenter2em"><img src="images/illo12.jpg" width="500" -height="218" alt="" title="" /></div> - -<p>Being braced to meet some sort of a storm, -Maltham was rather put about by not encountering -it. Ulrica certainly was looking the worse<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_124" id="Page_124">[124]</a></span> -for her headache—her eyes were duller than -usual, and there were dark marks under them, -and she was very pale; but she did not seem -to be at all excited, and the greeting that she -gave him was out of the ordinary only in that -she did not offer him her hand. He drew a -quick breath, and the tense muscles of his mind -relaxed. If she were taking it in that quiet -way, he thought, he had worked himself into -heroics for nothing. And then, quite naturally, -he felt a sharp pang of resentment because she -did take it so quietly. Her calmness ruffled his -self-love.</p> - -<p>As she remained silent, making no reference -to Maltham's engagement, the Major felt that -the proprieties of the case were not being attended -to and prompted her. "I have been -wishing Geo'ge joy and prospehrity, my deah," -he said. "Have yo' nothing to say to him -youahself about his coming happiness?"</p> - -<p>"Yes," she answered slowly, "I have a great -deal to say to him—so much that I am going -to carry him off in the <i>Nixie</i> to say it." She -turned to Maltham and added: "You will come -with me for a last sail, will you not?"</p> - -<p>Maltham hesitated, and then answered doubtfully: -"Isn't it a little cold for sailing to-day?<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_125" id="Page_125">[125]</a></span> -Your father says that you are not feeling well. -I do think that it will be better not to go—unless -you really insist upon it, of course."</p> - -<p>"Yo' mustn't think of such a thing!" the -Major struck in peremptorily. "The weatheh is -like ice. Yo' will catch yo' death of cold!"</p> - -<p>"It is no colder, father, than that day when -I took George out in the <i>Nixie</i> for the first time—and -it will do my head good," Ulrica answered. -And added, to Maltham: "I do insist. -Come!"</p> - -<p>Against the Major's active remonstrance, and -against Maltham's passive resistance, she carried -her point. "Come!" she said again—and -led Maltham out by the side door into the ragged -garden. There she left him for a moment and -returned to her father—who was standing in a -very melancholy way before the fire.</p> - -<p>"Do not mind, father," she said. "It is -the best thing for me—it is the only thing for -me."</p> - -<p>He looked at her inquiringly, puzzled by her -words and by her vehement tone. Suddenly -she put her arms around his neck and kissed -him. "Remember always, father, that I have -loved you with my whole heart for almost my -whole life long. And remember always," she<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_126" id="Page_126">[126]</a></span> -went on with a curiously savage earnestness, -"that I am loving you with my whole heart—with -every bit of it—to-day!"</p> - -<p>"I am suah yo' ah, my daughteh," the Major -answered, very huskily.</p> - -<p>She kissed him again, holding him tight in -her arms. Then she unclasped her arms with -a sudden quick energy and swiftly left the -room.</p> - -<p>She led Maltham silently to the boat, and silently—when -she had cast off the mooring—motioned -to him to enter it. He found this silence -ominous, and tried to break it. But the -commonplace words which he wanted to speak -would not come.</p> - -<p>And then, as he sat in the stern and mechanically -steadied the tiller while she hoisted the -sail, the queer feeling again came over him that -it still was that wonderful first day. This feeling -grew stronger as all that he remembered -so well was repeated: Ulrica's rapid movement -aft to the tiller; his own shifting of his seat; -her quick loosing of the centreboard as the wind -caught them; and then the heeling over of the -boat, and her steady motion, and the bubbling -hiss of the water beneath the bow. It all so lulled -him, so numbed his sense of time and fact,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_127" id="Page_127">[127]</a></span> -that suddenly he looked up in her face and -smiled—just as he had done on that first day.</p> - -<div class="figcenter2em" id="HEART"><img src="images/illo13.jpg" width="425" -height="803" alt="" title="" /> -<div class="caption"> -"'I HAVE LOVED YOU WITH MY WHOLE HEART'" -</div></div> - -<p>But the look in Ulrica's eyes killed his smile, -and brought him back with a sharp wrench to -reality. Her eyes no longer were dull. They -were glowing—and they seemed to cut into him -like knives.</p> - -<p>"Well," she asked, "have you anything to -say for yourself?"</p> - -<p>"No," he answered, "except that fate has -been too strong for me."</p> - -<p>"Fate sometimes is held accountable for a -great deal," she said dryly, but with a catch -in her voice.</p> - -<p>They were silent again, and for a long while. -The boat was running down the bay rapidly—even -more rapidly, the wind being much stronger, -than on that first day. They could hear, -as they had not heard then, the surf crashing -upon the outer beach of the Point.</p> - -<p>The silence became more than he could stand. -"Can you forgive me?" he asked at last.</p> - -<p>Ulrica looked at him with a curious surprise. -"No," she answered quite calmly. "Think for -a moment about what you have done and about -what you intend to do. Do you not see that it -is impossible?"</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_128" id="Page_128">[128]</a></span> -"But I love you!" he cried eagerly. "I love -you more than I can tell. It is not my will that -is separating us—it is fate!"</p> - -<p>Her look softened for an instant as he began, -but as he ended it hardened again. She did -not answer him. A strong gust of wind heeled -the boat farther over. They were going at a -slashing rate. Before them the inlet was opening. -The booming of the surf was very loud.</p> - -<p>He saw that his words had taken hold upon -her, and repeated them: "I do love you, Ulrica—and, -oh, you don't know how very wretched I -have been! More than once in this past month -I have been very near killing myself."</p> - -<p>She gave him a searching look, and seemed -satisfied that he spoke the truth. "I am glad -that you have wanted to kill yourself," she said -slowly and earnestly. They were at the mouth -of the inlet. As she spoke, she luffed sharply -and they entered it close-hauled.</p> - -<p>"Yes," she repeated, speaking still more earnestly, -"I am very glad of that. It makes me -feel much easier in my mind about what I am -going to do."</p> - -<p>Her tone startled him. He looked up at her -quickly and anxiously. "What are you going -to do?" he asked.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_129" id="Page_129">[129]</a></span> -"Drown you," she answered simply.</p> - -<p>For an instant he did not take in the meaning -of her words. Then his face became very -white, though he tried to smile. His voice shook -as he said: "I do not think that this is a good -time for joking." The boat was biting her way -into the wind sharply, plunging and bucketing -through the partly spent waves which came in -from outside.</p> - -<p>"You know that I am not joking," Ulrica -answered very quietly. "I am going to drown -you, and to drown myself too. I have thought -it all out, and this seems the best thing to do. -It is the best for father," her voice trembled, -"and it is the best," she went on again, firmly, -"for me. As for you, it does not matter whether -it is the best for you or not—it is what you -deserve. For you are a liar and a traitor—a -liar and a traitor to me, and to that other woman -too!" As she spoke these last words her -calmness left her, and there was the ring of -passionate anger in her tone. The fire that she -had been smothering, at last was in full blaze.</p> - -<p>They were at the very mouth of the inlet. -The white-capped surface of the lake swelled -and tossed before them. The boat was wallowing -heavily.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_130" id="Page_130">[130]</a></span> -Maltham's paleness changed to a greenish-grey. -He uttered a shrill scream—a cry of -weakly helpless terror. "Put about! For -God's sake put about!" he gasped. "We shall -be drowned!"</p> - -<p>For answer, she hauled the sheet a little and -brought the boat still closer into the wind—heading -straight out into the lake. "I told you -once that the <i>Nixie</i> could sail into the wind's -eye," she said, coolly. "Now she is doing it. -Does she not go well?"</p> - -<p>At that, being desperate, he rallied a little. -Springing to his feet, but standing unsteadily, -he grasped the tiller and tried to shift the helm. -Ulrica, standing firmly, laid her hand flat -against his breast and thrust him away savagely—with -such force that he reeled backward and -fell, striking against the combing and barely -missing going over the side.</p> - -<p>"You fool!" she exclaimed. "Do you not -see that it is too late?" She did not trouble -herself to look at him. Her gaze was fixed -in a keen ecstasy on the great oncoming waves.</p> - -<p>What she said was true—it was too late. -They were fairly out on the open lake, and -all possibility of return was gone. To try to -go about would be to throw the <i>Nixie</i> into the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_131" id="Page_131">[131]</a></span> -trough of the sea—and so send her rolling over -like a log. At the best, the little boat could -live in that surge and welter for only a very -few minutes more.</p> - -<p>Maltham did not attempt to rise. His fall -had hurt him, and what little was left of his -spirit was cowed. He lay in a miserable heap, -uttering little whimpering moans. The complaining -noise that he made annoyed her. For -the last time she looked at him, burning him -for an instant with her glowing eyes. "Silence, -you coward!" she cried, fiercely—and at -her strong command he was still. Then her look -was fixed on the great oncoming waves again, -and she cast him out from her mind.</p> - -<p>Even in her rage—partly because of it—Ulrica -felt in every drop of her Norse blood the -glow and the thrill of this glorious battle with -great waters. The sheer delight of it was worth -dying for—and so richly worth living through -to the very last tingling instant that she steered -with a strong and a steady hand. And again—as -she stood firmly on the tossing boat, her -draperies blown close about her, her loosened -hair streaming out in golden splendour—she -was Aslauga's very self. Sorrow and life together -were ending well for her—in high<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_132" id="Page_132">[132]</a></span> -emotion that filled and satisfied her soul. Magnificent, -commanding, defiant, she sailed on -in joyful triumph: glad and eager to give herself -strongly to the strong death-clasp of the -waves.</p> - -<div class="figcenter2em"><img src="images/illo14.jpg" width="500" -height="179" alt="" title="" /></div> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p class="p6"><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_135" id="Page_135">[135]</a></span></p> - - - - -<h2 id="Martigues">The Death-Fires of Les Martigues</h2></div> - - -<h3>I</h3> - -<p>"God keep you from the she-wolf, and from -your heart's deep desire!"</p> - -<p>That is one of our old sayings here in Provence. -I used to laugh at it when I was young. -I do not laugh at it now. When those words -come into my heart, and they come often, I -go by the rough hard way that leads upward to -Notre Dame de la Garde until I come to the -Crime Cross—it is a wearying toil for me -to get up that steep hill-side, I am so stiff and -old now—and there I cast fresh stones upon the -heap at the foot of the cross. Each stone cast -there, you know, is a prayer for forgiveness -for some hidden crime: not a light fault, but a -crime. The stones must be little stones, yet<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_136" id="Page_136">[136]</a></span> -the heap is very wide and high—though -every winter, when the great mistrals are -blowing across the Étang de Berre, the little -stones are whirled away down the hill-side. I -do not know how this custom began, nor when; -but it is a very old custom with us here in Les -Martigues.</p> - -<p>Once in every year I go up to the Crime -Cross by night. This is on All Souls Eve. First -I light the lamp over Magali's breast where -she lies sleeping in the graveyard: going to the -graveyard at dusk, as the others do, in the long -procession that creeps up thither from the three -parts of our town—from Jonquières, and the -Isle, and Ferrières—to light the death-fires -over the dear dead ones' graves. I go with -the very first, as soon as the sun is down. I like -to be alone with Magali while I light the little -lamp that will be a guide for her soul through -that night when souls are free; that will keep -it safe from the devils who are free that night -too. I do not like the low buzzing of voices -which comes later, when the crowd is there, nor -the broken cries and sobs. And when her lamp -is lit, and I have lit my mother's lamp, I hurry -away from the graveyard and the moaning people—threading -my steps among the graves on<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_137" id="Page_137">[137]</a></span> -which the lights are beginning to glimmer, and -through the oncoming crowd, and then by the -lonely path through the olive-orchards, and so -up the stony height until I come at last to the -Crime Cross—panting, aching—and my watch -begins.</p> - -<div class="figcenter2em" id="MARIUS"><img src="images/illo15.jpg" width="475" -height="757" alt="" title="" /> -<div class="caption"> -MARIUS -</div></div> - -<p>Up on that high hill-side, open to the west, -a little of the dying daylight lingers. Eastward, -like a big black mirror, lies the great -étang; and far away across its still waters the -mountain chain above Berre and Rognac rises -purple-grey against the darker sky. In the -west still are faint crimson blotches, or dashes -of dull blood-red—reflected again, and made -brighter, in the Étang de Caronte: that stretches -away between the long downward slopes of the -hills, on which stone-pines stand out in black -patches, until its gleaming waters merge into -the faint glow upon the waters of the Mediterranean. -Above me is the sanctuary of Notre -Dame de la Garde, a dark mass on the height -above the olive-trees: of old a refuge for sinful -bodies, and still a refuge where sinful souls may -seek grace in prayer from their agony. And -below me, on the slope far downward, is the -graveyard: where the death-fires multiply each -moment, as more and more lamps are lighted,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_138" id="Page_138">[138]</a></span> -until at last it is like a little fallen heaven of -tiny stars. Only in its midst is an island of -darkness where no lamps are. That is where -the children lie together: the blessed innocents -who have died sinless, and who wander not on -All Souls Eve because when sweet death came -to them their pure spirits went straight home -to God. And beyond the graveyard, below it, -is the black outspread of the town: its blackness -deepened by a bright window here and -there, and by the few street lamps, and by the -bright reflections which shine up from the -waters of its canals.</p> - -<p>Seeing all this—yet only half seeing it, for -my heart is full of other things—I sit there -at the foot of the Crime Cross in the darkness, -prayerful, sorrowful, while the night wears -on. Sometimes I hear footsteps coming up the -rocky path, and then the shadowy figure of a -man or of a woman breaks out from the gloom -and suddenly is close beside me—and I hear -the rattle of little stones cast upon the heap -behind me, on the other side of the cross. Presently, -the rite ended, whoever it is fades back -into the gloom again and passes away. And -I know that another sinful soul has been close -beside my sinful soul for a moment: seeking in<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_139" id="Page_139">[139]</a></span> -penitent supplication, as I am seeking, rest -in forgiveness for an undiscovered crime. But -I am sure that none of them sees—as I see in -the gloom there always—a man's white face -on which the moonlight is shining, and beyond -that white face the glint of moonlight on a raging -sea; and I am sure that on none of their -blackened souls rests a burden as heavy as that -which rests on mine.</p> - -<p>I am very weary of my burden, and old and -broken too. It is my comfort to know that I -shall die soon. But, also, the thought of that -comfort troubles me. For I am a lone man, -and childless. When I go, none of Magali's -race, none of my race, will be left alive here -in Les Martigues. Our death-fires will not be -lighted. We shall wander in darkness on All -Souls Eve.</p> - - -<h3>II</h3> - -<p>"God keep you from the she-wolf, and from -your heart's deep desire!"</p> - -<p>My old mother, God rest her, said that to -me when first she began to see that my love -was set on Magali—and saw, too, that I was -winning from Magali the love that belonged to -Jan, who had her promise.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_140" id="Page_140">[140]</a></span> -"It is an old man's lifetime, mother," I said, -"since a wolf has been seen near Les Martigues." -And I laughed and kissed her.</p> - -<p>"Worse than a wolf is a heart that covets -what it may not have, Marius," she answered. -"Magali is as good as Jan's wife, and you -know it. For a year she has been promised -to him. She is my dead sister's child, and she -is in my care—and in your care too, because -you and she and I are all that is left of us, -and you are the head of our house, the man. -You are doing wickedness in trying to take her -away from Jan—and Jan your own close friend, -who saved your life out of the sea. The match -is a good match for Magali, and she was contented -with it until you—living here close beside -her in your own house—began to steal away -her heart from him. It is rascal work, Marius, -that you are doing. You are playing false as -a house-father and false as a friend—and God -help me that I must speak such words to my own -son! That is why I say, and I say it solemnly, -'God keep you from the she-wolf, and from -your heart's deep desire!' That desire has no -right to be in your heart, Marius. Drag it out -of your heart and cast it away!"</p> - -<p>But I only laughed and kissed her again,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_141" id="Page_141">[141]</a></span> -and told her that I would take good care of myself -if a she-wolf tried to eat me—and so I went -away, still laughing, to my fishing in the Gulf -of Fos.</p> - -<p>But I did not laugh when I was alone in -my boat, slipping down the Étang de Caronte -seaward. What she had said had made me see -things clearly which until then had been half -hid in a haze. We had slipped into our love for -each other, Magali and I, softly and easily—just -as my boat was slipping down the étang. -Every day of our lives we were together, in the -close way that housemates are together in a -little house of four rooms. Before I got up -in the morning I could hear her moving near -me, only a thin wall between us; and her movements, -again, were the last sounds that I heard -at night. She waited on me at my meals. She -helped my mother to mend my clothes—the very -patches on my coat would bring to my mind -the sight of her as she sat sewing at night beside -the lamp. We were as close together as a brother -and a sister could be; and in my dulness I -had fancied for a long while that what I had -felt for her was only what a brother would -feel.</p> - -<p>What first opened my eyes a little was the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_142" id="Page_142">[142]</a></span> -way that I felt about it when she gave her -promise to Jan. For all our lives Jan and I -had been close friends: and most close since that -day when the squall struck our boats, as we lay -near together, and I went overboard, and Jan—letting -his own boat take its chances—came -overboard after me because he knew that I could -not swim. It was by a hair's-breadth only that -we were not drowned together. After we were -safe I told him that my life was his. And I -meant it, then. Until Magali came between us -I would have died for him with a right good -will. After that I was ready enough that he -should do the dying—and so be gone out of -my way.</p> - -<p>When he got Magali's promise, I say, my -ugly feeling against him began. But it was not -very strong at first, and I was not clear about -it in my own mind. All that I felt was that, -somehow, he had got between me and the sun. -For one thing, I did not want to be clear about -it. Down in the roots of me I knew that I had -no right to that sunshine, and that Jan had—and -I could not help thinking about how he -had come overboard after me and had held me -up there in the tumbling sea, and how I had -told him that my life was his. But with this<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_143" id="Page_143">[143]</a></span> -went a little thin thought, stirring now and then -in the bottom of my mind though I would not -own to it, that in giving him my life—which -still was his if he wanted it—I had not given -him the right to spoil my life for me while leaving -me still alive. And I did my best not to -think one way or the other, and was glad that -it all was a blur and a haze.</p> - -<p>And all the while I was living close beside -Magali in that little house, with the sound of -her steps always near me and the sound of her -voice always in my ears. She had a very sweet -voice, with a freshness and a brightness in it -that seemed to me like the brightness of her -eyes—and Magali's great black eyes were the -brightest eyes that ever I saw. Even in Arles, -where all the women are beautiful, there would -be a buzz among the people lining Les Lices -when Magali walked there of a feast-day, wearing -the beautiful dress that our women wear -here in Provence. To look at her made you -think of an Easter morning sun.</p> - - -<h3>III</h3> - -<p>"God keep you from the she-wolf, and from -your heart's deep desire!"</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_144" id="Page_144">[144]</a></span></p> - -<p>My mother's words kept on ringing in my -ears after I had left her. Suddenly the haze -was gone and I saw clearly—and I knew that -my heart's deep desire was to have Magali -for my very own. And with that sudden coming -of clear sight I knew, too, that I could have -her. Out of the past came a crowd of memories -which proved it to me. In my dull way, -I say, I had fancied that I loved Magali as a -sister, and I had tried to keep that fancy always -by me in my haze. But with the haze gone—swept -away by my mother's words as the mistral -sweeps away our Mediterranean fogs—I -knew that Magali never had been the fool that -I had been.</p> - -<p>I remembered her looks and her ways with me -from the very day when she came to us, when -she was just turned of sixteen: how she used -sometimes to lay her hand lightly on my shoulder, -how she would bend over to look at the -net that I was mending until her hair -brushed against my cheek or my forehead, how -she always was bringing things to show me that -I could not see rightly unless she stood very -close at my side, and most of all how a dozen -times a day she would be flashing at me her -great black eyes. And I remembered how moody<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_145" id="Page_145">[145]</a></span> -and how strange in her ways she was just before -Jan got his promise from her; and how, -when she told me that her promise was given, -she gave me a look like none that ever I had -from her, and said slowly: "The fisherman who -will not catch any fish at all because he cannot -catch the fish he wants most—is a fool, Marius!"</p> - -<p>Yet even then I did not understand; though, -as I say, my eyes were opened a little and I had -the feeling that Jan had got between me and the -sun. That feeling grew stronger because of the -way that she treated him and treated me. Jan -was for hurrying the marriage, but she kept him -dangling and always was putting him off. As -for me, I got all sides of her moods and tempers. -Sometimes she scarcely would speak to me. -Sometimes she would give me looks from those -big black eyes of hers that thrilled me through! -Sometimes she would hang about me in a patient -sad way that made me think of a dog begging -for food. And the colour so went out of her -face that her big black eyes looked bigger and -blacker still.</p> - -<p>Then it was that I began to find in the haze -that was about me a refuge—because I did not -want to see clear. I let my thoughts go out -to Magali, and stopped them before they got<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_146" id="Page_146">[146]</a></span> -to Jan. It would be time enough, I reasoned—though -I did not really reason it: I only felt -it—to think about him when I had to. For the -passing hours it was enough to have the sweetness -of being near Magali—and that grew to -be a greater sweetness with every fresh new -day. Presently I noticed that her colour had -come back again; and it seemed to me—though -that may have been only because of my new -love of her—that she had a new beauty, tender -and strange. Certainly there was a new brightness, -a curiously glowing brightness, in her eyes.</p> - -<p>For Jan, things went hardly in those days. -Having her promise, he had rights in her—as -we say in Provence. But he did not get -many of his rights. Half the time when he -claimed her for walks on the hill-sides among -the olive-orchards, she would not go with him—because -she had her work to do at home, -she said. And there was I, where her work was, -at home! For a while Jan did not see beyond -the end of his nose about it. I do not think -that ever it crossed his mind to think of me in -the matter—not, that is, until some one with -better eyes than his eyes helped him to see. -For he knew that I was his friend, and I suppose -that he remembered what I had told him<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_147" id="Page_147">[147]</a></span> -about my life being his. And even when his eyes -were helped, he would not at first fully believe -what he must plainly have seen. But he soon -believed enough to make him change his manner -toward me, and to make him watch sharp -for something that would give him the right to -speak words to me which would bring matters -to a fair settlement by blows. And I was ready, -as I have said—though I would not fairly own -it to myself—to come to blows with him. For -I wanted him dead, and out of my way.</p> - -<p>And so my mother's words, which had made -me at last see clearly, stayed by me as I went -sailing in my boat softly seaward down the -étang. And they struck deeper into me because -Jan's boat was just ahead of mine; and the -sight of him, and the thought of how he had -saved my life only to cross it, made me long -to run him down and drown him, and so be -quit of him for good and all. I made up my -mind then that, whether I killed him or left -him living, it would be I who should have -Magali and not he.</p> - - -<h3>IV</h3> - -<p>"God keep you from the she-wolf, and from -your heart's deep desire!"</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_148" id="Page_148">[148]</a></span></p> - -<p>My mother said that again to me when I -came home that night from my fishing; and -she said it to me often as the days went on. She -saw the change that had come to me, and she -knew what was in my soul. It is not wonderful, -when you stop to think about it, that a man's -mother should know what is in his soul: for the -body in which that soul is, the living home of -it, is a part of her own. And she grew sad and -weary-looking when she found that her words -had no hold on me, and there came into her -eyes the sorrowful look that comes into the eyes -of old people who are soon to die.</p> - -<p>But Magali's eyes were the only eyes that -I cared for then, and they seemed to me to grow -brighter and brighter every day. When she and -I walked in the olive-orchards together in the -starlight the glow of them outshone the star-glow. -It seemed to light up my heart.</p> - -<p>I do not think that we talked much in those -walks. I do not seem to remember our talking. -But we understood each other, and we were -agreed about what we were to do. I was old -enough to marry as I pleased, but Magali was -not—she could not marry without my mother's -word. We meant to force that word. Some day -we would go off in my boat together—over to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_149" id="Page_149">[149]</a></span> -Les Saintes Maries, perhaps; or perhaps to -Marseille. It did not matter where we went. -When we came back again, at the end of two -or three days, my mother no longer could deny -us—she would have to give in. And no one -would think the worse of Magali: for that is -our common way of settling a tangled love-matter -here in Provence.</p> - -<p>But I did not take account of Jan in my -plans, and that was where I made a mistake. -Jan had just as strong a will as I had, and -every bit of his will was set upon keeping -Magali for himself. I wanted her to break -with him entirely, but that she would not do. -She was a true Provençale—and I never yet -knew one of our women who would rest satisfied -with one lover when she could have two. -If she can get more than two, that is better -still. While I hung back from her, Magali was -more than ready to come to me; but when -she found me eager after her, and knew that -she had a grip on me, she danced away.</p> - -<p>And so, before long, Jan again had his walks -with her in the olive-orchards by starlight just -as I did, and likely enough her eyes glowed -for him just as they did for me. When they -were off that way together I would get into a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_150" id="Page_150">[150]</a></span> -wild-beast rage over it. Sometimes I would follow -them, fingering my knife. I suppose that -he felt like that when the turn was mine. Anyhow, -the love-making chances which she gave -him—even though in my heart I still was sure -of her—kept me always watching him; and I -could see that he always was watching me. Very -likely he felt sure of her too, and that was his -reason—just as it was my reason—for not bringing -our matter to a fighting end. I was ready -enough to kill him, God knows. Unless his -eyes lied when he looked at me, he was ready -to kill me.</p> - -<p>And in that way the summer slipped past -and the autumn came, and neither of us gained -anything. I was getting into a black rage over -it all. Down inside of me was a feeling like -fire in my stomach that made me not want to -eat, and that made what I did eat go wrong. -My poor mother had given up trying to talk to -me. She saw that she could not change my way—and, -too, I suppose that she pretty well understood -it all: for she had lived her life, and she -knew the ways of our men and of our women -when love stings them here in Provence. Only, -her sadness grew upon her with her hopelessness. -What I remember most clearly as I think of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_151" id="Page_151">[151]</a></span> -her in those last days is her pale old face and -the dying look in her sorrowful eyes.</p> - -<p>But seeing her in that way grief-struck only -made my black rage blacker and the fire in my -stomach burn hotter. I had the feeling that -there was a devil down there who all the time -was getting bigger and stronger: and that before -long he and I would take matters in hand together -and settle them for good and all. As -for keeping on with things as they were, it -was not to be thought of. Better than much -more of such a hell-life would be ending everything -by killing Jan.</p> - -<p>What made me hang back from that was the -certainty that if I did kill him—even in a fair -fight, with his chance as good as mine—I would -lose Magali beyond all hope: for the gendarmes -would have me away in a whiff to jail—and -then off would go my head, or, what would be -just as bad, off I would go head and all to -Cayenne. It was no comfort to me to know that -Magali would almost cry her eyes out over -losing me. Of course she would do that, being -a Provençale. But before her eyes were quite -out she would stop crying; and then in a moment -she would be laughing again; and in -another moment she would be freshly in love<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_152" id="Page_152">[152]</a></span> -once more—with some man who was not murdered -and who was not gone for his lifetime -over seas. And all that, also, would be because -she was a Provençale.</p> - - -<h3>V</h3> - -<p>All the devils are let loose on earth on All -Souls Eve—that is a fact known to everybody -here in Provence. But whether it was one of -those loosed devils, or the devil that had grown -big in my own inside, that made me do what I -did I do not know. What I do know, certainly, -is that about dusk on All Saints Day the thought -of how I could force things to be as I wanted -them to be came into my heart.</p> - -<p>My thought was not a new thought, exactly. -It was only that I would do what we had -planned to do to make my mother give in to us: -get Magali into my boat and carry her off with -me for a day or two to Les Saintes. But it -came to me with the new meaning that in that -way I could make Magali give in to me too. -When we came back she would be ready enough -to marry me, and my mother would be for hurrying -our marrying along. It all was as plain -and as sure as anything could be. And, as I have<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_153" id="Page_153">[153]</a></span> -said, nobody would think the worse of Magali -afterward; because that way of cutting through -such difficulties is a common way with us in -Provence.</p> - -<p>And All Souls Eve was the time of all times -for doing it. The whole town is in commotion -then. In the churches, when the Vespers of -All Saints are finished, the Vespers of the Dead -are said. Then, just after sunset, the streets -are crowded with our people hurrying to the -graveyard with their lanterns for the graves. -Nothing is thought about but the death-fires. -From all the church towers—in Jonquières, in -the Isle, in Ferrières—comes the sad dull tolling -of bells. After that, for an hour or more, -the town is almost deserted. Only the very old, -and the very young, and the sick with their -watchers, and the bell-ringers in the towers, are -left there. Everybody else is in the graveyard, -high up on the hill-side: first busied in setting -the lights and in weeping over dead loved ones; -and then, when the duty to the dead ones is -done with, in walking about through the graveyard -to see the show. In Provence we take a -great interest in every sort of show.</p> - -<p>Magali and I had no death-fires to kindle, for -in the graveyard were no dead of ours. Our peo<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_154" id="Page_154">[154]</a></span>ple -were of Les Saintes Maries, and there their -graves were—and my father, who was drowned -at his fishing, had no grave at all. But we went -always to the graveyard on All Souls Eve, and -most times together, that we might see the show -with the others and enjoy the bustle of the -crowd. And so there was nothing out of the -common when I asked her to come with me; and -off we started together—leaving my old mother -weeping at home for my dead father, who could -have no death-fire lit for him because his bones -were lying lost to us far away in the depths -of the sea.</p> - -<p>Our house was in the eastern quarter of the -town, in Jonquières. To reach the graveyard -we had to cross the Isle, and go through Ferrières, -and then up the hill-side beyond. But I -did not mean that we should do that; and when -we had crossed the Canal du Roi I said to -Magali that we would turn, before we went onward, -and walk down past the Fish-market to -the end of the Isle—that from there we might -see the lights glowing in the dusk on the slope -rising above us black against the western sky. -We had done that before—it is a pretty sight -to see all those far-off glittering points of light -above, and then to see their glittering reflections<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_155" id="Page_155">[155]</a></span> -near by in the water below—and she willingly -came with me.</p> - -<p>But I had more in view. Down at the end -of the Isle, along with the other boats moored -at the wharf there to be near the Fish-market, -my boat was lying; and when we were come -close to her I said suddenly, as though the -thought had entered my head that minute, that -we would go aboard of her and run out a little -way—and so see the death-fires more clearly -because they would be less hidden by the -shoulder of the hill. I did not have to speak -twice. Magali was aboard of the boat on the -instant, and was clapping her hands at the notion—for -she had, as all our women have, a -great pleasure in following any sudden fancy -which promises something amusing and also -a little strange. And I was quick after her, -and had the lines cast off and began to get -up the sail.</p> - -<p>"Oh," she said, "won't the oars do? Need -we bother with the sail for such a little way?"</p> - -<p>But I did not answer her, and went on with -what I was doing, while the boat drifted quickly -out from land before the gusts of wind which -struck us harder and harder as we cleared the -point of the Isle. Until then I had not thought<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_156" id="Page_156">[156]</a></span> -about the weather—my mind had been full of -the other and bigger thought. The gusts of wind -waked me up a little, and as I looked at the -sky I began to have doubts that I could do what -I wanted to do; for it was plain that a gale -was rising which would make ticklish work for -me even out on the Gulf of Fos—and would -make pretty near impossible my keeping on to -Les Saintes over the open sea. And I had about -made up my mind that we must go back, and -that I must carry out my plan some other -time, when there came a hail to us from the -shore.</p> - -<p>"Where are you going?" called a voice—and -as we turned our looks shoreward there was -Jan. He had been following us, I suppose—just -as I sometimes had followed him.</p> - -<p>Before I could answer him, Magali spoke. -"We are going out on the water to see the -death-fires, Jan," she said. "We are going -only a very little way."</p> - -<p>Her words angered me. There was something -in them that seemed to show that he had -the right to question her. That settled me in -my purpose. Storm or no storm, on I would -go. And I brought the boat up to the wind, so -as to lay our course straight down the Étang<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_157" id="Page_157">[157]</a></span> -de Caronte, and called out to him: "We are -going where you cannot follow. Good-bye!"</p> - -<p>And then a gust of wind heeled us over, and -we went on suddenly with a dash—as a horse -goes when you spur him—and the water boiled -and hissed under our bows. In another half-minute -we were clear of the shelter of the point, -and then the wind came down on us off the -hills in a rush so strong that I had to ease off -the sheet sharply—and I had a queer feeling -about what was ahead of me out on the Gulf -of Fos.</p> - -<p>"Marius! Marius! What are you doing?" -Magali cried in a shiver of fright: for she -knew by that time that something was back of -it all in my mind. As she spoke I could see -through the dusk that Jan was running up the -sail of his boat, and in a minute more would -be after us.</p> - -<p>"I am doing what I ought to have done -long ago," I said. "I am taking you for my -own. There is nothing to fear, dear Magali. -You shall not be in danger. I had meant to -take you to Les Saintes. But a gale is rising -and we cannot get to Les Saintes to-night. We -will run across the Gulf of Fos and anchor in -the Grau de Gloria. There is a shepherd's hut<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_158" id="Page_158">[158]</a></span> -near the Grau. I will make a fire in it and -you can sleep there comfortably, while I watch -outside. After all, it makes no difference where -we go. I shall have carried you off—when we -go back you must be my wife."</p> - -<p>She did not understand at first. She was too -much frightened with the suddenness of it all, -and with the coming of Jan, and with the -boat flying on through the rushing of the wind. -I looked back and saw that Jan had got away -after us. Dimly I could make out his sail -through the dusk that lay thick upon the water. -Beyond it and above it was a broad patch of -brightness where all the death-fires were burning -together in the graveyard. We had come -too far to see any longer those many points of -light singly. In a mass, they made against the -black hill-side a great bright glow.</p> - - -<h3>VI</h3> - -<p>"God keep you from the she-wolf, and from -your heart's deep desire!"</p> - -<p>My mother's words seemed to sound in my -ears loudly, coming with the rush of wind that -eddied around me out of the sail's belly. They -gave me a queer start, as the thought came with<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_159" id="Page_159">[159]</a></span> -them that here at last my heart's deep desire -would be mine presently—if only I could snatch -it and keep it from the she-wolf of the sea.</p> - -<p>Magali was silent—half standing, half sitting, -against the weather side of the boat, close -in front of me as I stood at the tiller with the -sheet in my hand. She had got over her fright. I -could tell that by the brightness of her eyes, -and by the warm colour in her cheeks that I -had a glimpse of as we flashed past the break -in the hills where the Mas Labillon stands. -And in that moment while the dusk was thinned -a little I could see, too, that she was breathing -hard. I know what our women are, and I -know what she was feeling. Our women like -to be fought for, and any one of them gladly -would have been in Magali's place—with the -two strongest and handsomest men in Les Martigues -in a fair way to come to a death-grip for -her in the whirl of a rising storm.</p> - -<p>Back in the dusk, against the faint glow of -the death-fires, I could see the sail of Jan's -boat dipping and swaying with the thrusts of -the wind-gusts as it came on after me. It had -gained a little; and I knew that it would gain -more, for Jan's boat was a speedier boat than -mine on the wind. Close-hauled, I could walk<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_160" id="Page_160">[160]</a></span> -away from him; but in running down the Étang -de Caronte I had no choice in my sailing. Out -on the Gulf of Fos, if I dared take that chance, -and if he dared follow me, I could bear up -to windward and so shake him off—making -for the Anse d'Auguette and taking shelter -there. But even my hot blood chilled a little -at the thought of going out that night on the -Gulf of Fos. When we were down near the -end of the étang—close to the Salines, where it -is widest—the wind that pelted down on us -from the hills was terribly strong. It was hard -to stand against even there, where the water -was smooth. Outside, it would be still stronger, -and the water would be all in a boil. And -at the end, to get into the Anse d'Auguette, we -should have to take the risk of a roaring sea -abeam.</p> - -<p>But any risk was better than the risk of what -might happen if Jan overhauled me. Now that -I fairly had Magali away from him, I did not -want to fight him. What might come in a -fight in rough water—where the winds and the -waves would have to be reckoned with, and -with the most careful reckoning might play -tricks on me—was too uncertain; while if I -could stand him off and get away from him,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_161" id="Page_161">[161]</a></span> -so that even for one night I could keep Magali -with me, the game would be won. After that, -if he wanted it, I would fight him as much as -he pleased.</p> - -<p>The thought that I would win—in spite of -Jan and in spite of the storm, too—made all my -blood tingle. More by habit than anything else -I sailed the boat: for my eyes were fixed on -Magali's eyes, shining there close to me, and my -heart was full of her. We did not speak, but -once she turned and looked at me—bending -forward a little, so that her face was within a -foot of mine. What she saw in my eyes was -so easy to read that she gave all at once a half-laugh -and a half-sob—and then turned away -and peered through the blustering darkness -toward Jan's sail. Somehow, the way she did -that made me feel that she was holding the -balance between us; that she was waiting—as -the she among wild beasts waits while the -males are fighting for her—for the stronger of -us to win. After that I was ready to face the -Gulf of Fos.</p> - -<p>The time for facing the gulf was close on -me, too. We had run through the canal of -the Salines and were out in the open water -of Bouc—the great harbour at the mouth<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_162" id="Page_162">[162]</a></span> -of the étang. The gale roared down on -us, now that there was little land to break it, -and we began to hear the boom of the waves -pounding on the rocks outside. I luffed well -into the wind and bore up for the narrows opening -seaward where the Fort de Bouc light-house -stands. The water still was not rough enough -to trouble us. It would not be rough until we -were at the very mouth of the narrows. Then, -all at once, would come the crush and fury of -the wind and sea. I knew what it would be like: -and again a chill shot through me at the thought -of risking everything on that one great chance. -But I had one thing to comfort me: the moon -had risen—and while the light came brokenly, -as the clouds thinned and thickened again, there -was brightness enough even at the darkest for -me to lay a course when I got out among the -tumbling waves. Yet only a man half mad with -passion would have thought of fronting such -a danger; and even I might have held back at -the last moment had I not been stung to go on.</p> - -<p>Jan had so gained on me in the run down the -étang that as we came out from the canal of -the Salines his boat was within less than a dozen -rods of mine; and as I hauled my sheet and -bore up for the narrows he shot down upon us<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_163" id="Page_163">[163]</a></span> -and for a moment was almost under our stern. -And at that Magali gave a little jump and a -half-gasp, and laid her hand upon mine, crying: -"Marius! Quick! Sail faster! He will -take me from you! Get me away! Get me -away!"</p> - -<p>And then I knew that she no longer balanced -us, but that her heart was for me. After that -I would have faced not only the Gulf of Fos -but the open Mediterranean in the worst storm -that ever blew.</p> - - -<h3>VII</h3> - -<p>"God keep you from the she-wolf, and from -your heart's deep desire!"</p> - -<p>The words were in my ears again as we went -flying on toward the narrows—with the reflection -of the flame in the light-house making a -broad bright path for us, and the flame itself -rising high before us against the cloud-rack like -a ball of fire. But God was not with me then, -and I gave those warning words no heed. I was -drunk with the gladness that came to me when -Magali made her choice between us; and all -that I thought was that even if we did go down -together, out there in the Gulf of Fos, I still -would be keeping her from Jan and holding her<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_164" id="Page_164">[164]</a></span> -for my own. That there might be any other -ending for us never crossed my mind.</p> - -<p>Jan did not think, I suppose, that I would -dare to go outside the harbour. He was in a -rage too, no doubt; but, still, he must have -been a good deal cooler than I was—for a rage -of hate does not boil in the very bones of a -man, as a rage of love does—and so cool enough -to know that it was sheer craziness to take a -boat out into that sea. What I meant to do -must have come to him with suddenness—as we -drew so close to the light-house that the flame -no longer was reflected ahead of us, and the narrows -were open over my starboard bow, and I -let the boat fall off from the wind and headed -her into the broken water made by the inroll -of half-spent waves. In my run close-hauled I -had dropped him, but not so much as I thought -I should, and as I came on the wind again—and -hung for a moment before gathering fresh -headway—he ranged up once more within hail.</p> - -<p>"Where are you going? Are you crazy?" he -called out—and though he must have shouted -with all the strength of his big lungs his voice -came thin through the wind to us, and broken -by the pounding of the sea.</p> - -<p>"Where you won't dare to follow!" I called<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_165" id="Page_165">[165]</a></span> -back to him—and we went rushing on below -the big old fort, that carries the light on its -tower, through the short passage between the -harbour and the Gulf of Fos.</p> - -<p>Something he answered, but what it was I -do not know: for as we cleared the shelter of -the fort—but while the tail of rock beyond it -still was to windward, so that I could not luff—down -with a crash on us came the gale. I -could only let fly the sheet—but even with the -sheet all out over we went until the sail was -deep in the water, and over the leeward gunwale -the waves came hissing in. I thought that there -was the end of it; but the boat had such way -on her that even on her beam ends and with -the sail dragging she went on until we had -cleared the rocks; and then I luffed her and -she rose slowly, and for the moment was safe -again with her nose in the wind.</p> - -<p>Magali's face was dead white—like a dead -woman's face, only for her shining eyes. She -fell to leeward as the boat went over—I could -not spare a hand to save her—and struck hard -against the gunwale. When the boat righted -and she got up again her forehead was bleeding. -On her white face the blood was like a -black stain. But she put her hand on mine and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_166" id="Page_166">[166]</a></span> -said: "I am not frightened, Marius. I love -you!"</p> - -<p>Jan was close aboard again. As our way had -deadened he had overhauled us; and because -he saw what had happened to my boat he was -able to bring his boat through the narrows without -going over.</p> - -<p>"Marius! Marius! For God's sake, for Magali's -sake, put about!" he shouted. "It is the -only chance to save her. Put about, I say!"</p> - -<p>He was only a little way to leeward of us, -but I barely made out his words. The wind -was roaring past us, and the waves were banging -like cannon on the rocks close by.</p> - -<p>What he said was the truth, and I knew -it. I knew that the gale was only just beginning, -and that no boat could live through it -for another hour. And then one of the devils -loose on that All Souls Eve, or perhaps it was -my own devil inside of me, put a new evil -thought into my heart: making clear to me -how I might get rid of Jan for good and all, -and without its ending in my losing my head -or in my losing Magali by being sent overseas. -It was a chance, to be sure, and full of -danger. But just then I was ready for any danger -or for any chance.</p> - -<div class="figcenter2em" id="ROCKS"><img src="images/illo16.jpg" width="500" -height="317" alt="" title="" /> -<div class="caption"> -"THE OTHERS WERE UPCAST ON THE ROCKS" -</div></div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_167" id="Page_167">[167]</a></span> -"Lie down in the bottom of the boat, -Magali," I called sharply. "That is the safest -place for you. We are going about."</p> - -<p>I spoke the truth to Magali; but, also, I did -not want her to see what happened. She did -what I told her to do, and then I began to wear -the boat around. How I did it without swamping, -I do not know. Perhaps the devils of All -Souls Eve held up my mast through the black -moments while we lay wallowing in the trough -of the sea. But I did do it; and when I was -come about I headed straight for Jan's boat—lying -dead to leeward of me, not twenty yards -away. The clouds thinned suddenly and almost -the full light of the moon was with us. We -could see each other's faces plainly—and in -mine he saw what I meant to do.</p> - -<p>"It will be all of us together, Marius!" he -called to me. "Do you want to murder Magali -too?"</p> - -<p>But I did not believe that it would be all of -us together: for I knew that his boat was an old -one, and that mine was new and strong. And, -also, the devils had me in their hold. The -gale was behind me, driving me down upon him -like a thunder-bolt. As I shot close to him the -moon shone out full for a moment through a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_168" id="Page_168">[168]</a></span> -rift in the clouds. In that moment I saw his -face clearly. The moonlight gleamed on it. -It was a ghastly dead white. But I do not suppose -that it was for himself that he was afraid. -Jan was not a coward, or he would not have -jumped after me when I was drowning in the -stormy sea.</p> - -<p>Once more he called to me. "Marius! For -the sake of Magali—"</p> - -<p>And then there was a crashing and a rending -of planks as I shot against his boat, and a sudden -upspringing of my own boat under me. And -after that, for a long while, a roaring of water -about me, and my own body tumbled and thrust -hither and thither in it, and at last a blow which -seemed to dash me down into a vast black depth -that was all buzzing with little blazing stars.</p> - -<p class="p2">But the others were upcast on the rocks dead.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p class="p6"><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_171" id="Page_171">[171]</a></span></p> - - - - -<h2 id="Upcast">A Sea Upcast</h2></div> - - -<h3>I</h3> - -<p>When we East Anglians be set to do a thing, -we be set firm. We come at what we want by -slow thinking, but when we know what we want -we hold fast by it—being born stubborn, and -also being born staunch. It is the same with -our hating and with our loving: we fire slowly, -but when at last the fire is kindled it burns so -strongly in the very hearts of us—with a white -glow, hotter than any flame—that there is no -putting it out again short of putting out our -lives.</p> - -<p>Men and women alike, we are born that way; -and we fishermen of the Suffolk and Norfolk -coast likewise are bred that way: seeing that -from the time we go afloat as youngsters until -the time that we are drowned, or are grown so -old and rusty that there is no more strength<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_172" id="Page_172">[172]</a></span> -for sea-fighting left in us, our lives for the -most part are spent in fighting the North Sea. -That is a fight that needs stubbornness to carry -it through to a finish. Also, it needs knowledge -of the ocean's tricks and turns—because the -North Sea can do what we East Anglians can't -do: it can smile at you and lie. A man must -have a deal of training before he can tell by -the feel of it in his own insides that close over -beyond a still sea and a sun-bright sky a storm -is cooking up that will kill him if it can. And -even when he feels the coming of it—if he be -well to seaward, or if he be tempted by the -fish being plenty and by the bareness of his -own pockets to hold on in the face of it—he -must have more in his head than any coast -pilot has if he is to win home to Yarmouth -Harbour or to Lowestoft Roads.</p> - -<p>For God in his cruelty has set more traps -to kill seafarers off this easterly outjut of England, -I do believe, than He has set anywhere -else in all the world: there being from Covehithe -Ness northward to the Winterton Overfalls -nothing but a maze of deadly shoals—all -cut up by channels in which there is no sea-room—that -fairly makes you queazy to think -about when you are coming shoreward in a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_173" id="Page_173">[173]</a></span> -northeast gale. And as if that were not enough -to make sure of man-food for the fishes, the currents -that swirl and play among these shoals -are up to some fresh wickedness with every hour -of the tide-run and with every half shift of -wind. Whether you make in for Yarmouth -by Hemesby Hole to the north, or by the Hewett -Channel to the south, or split the difference by -running through Caister Road, it is all one: -twisting about the Overfalls and the Middle -Cross Sand and the South Scroby, there the -currents are. What they will be doing with you, -or how they will be doing it, you can't even -make a good guess at; all that you can know -for certain being that they will be doing their -worst by you at the half tide.</p> - -<p>At least, though, the Lowestoft men and the -Yarmouth men have a good harbour when once -they fetch it; and by that much are better off -than we Southwold men, who have no harbour -at all. With anything of a sea running there -is no making a landing under Southwold Cliff—though -it is safe enough when once your boat -is beached and hauled up there; and so, if the -storm gets ahead of us, there is nothing left but -to run for Lowestoft: and a nice time we often -have of it, with an on-shore gale blowing, work<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_174" id="Page_174">[174]</a></span>ing -up into the Covehithe Channel under the tail -of the Barnard Bank! As for beating up to seaward -of the Barnard and running in through -Pakefield Gat, anybody can try for it who has -a mind to—and who has a boat that can eat -the very heart out of the wind. Sometimes -you do fetch it. But what happens to you most -times is best known to the Newcome Shoal. -When you have cleared the Barnard—if so be -you do clear it—the Newcome lies close under -your lee for all the rest of the run. What it has -done for us fishermen you can see when the -spring tides bare it and show black scraps of -old boats wrecked there, and sometimes a gleam -of sand-whitened bones.</p> - -<p>For a good many years we had another -chance, though a poor one, and that was to -make a longish leg off shore and then run in -before the wind and cross the Barnard into -Covehithe Channel through what we called -the Wreck Gat—a cut in the bank that the -currents made striking against a wrecked ship -buried there. The Wreck Gat is gone now—closed -by the same storm that nearly closed -my life for me—and you will not find it marked -nowadays on the charts. Its going was a -good riddance. At the best it was a desperate<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_175" id="Page_175">[175]</a></span> -bad place to get through; and at its worst it -was about the same as a sea pitfall: and that -nobody knows better than I do, seeing that -I was the last man to get through it alive. But -when you happened to be to windward of it, -if it served at all, it served better than running -down a half mile farther and trying to round -the tail of the bank.</p> - -<p>Very many craft beside our own fisher-boats -find their death-harbour on our East Anglian -sands. Our coast, as it has a right to be, is the -dread of every sailor man who sails the narrow -seas. Great ships, storm-swept on our sands, -are sucked down into the depths of them, or are -hammered to pieces on the top of them, as light-heartedly -as though they were no more than -cock-boats. And the supply of ships to be wrecked -there is unending—since the half of the trade -of the world, they say, sails past our shores. -From every land they come: and many and -many a one of them comes but never goes. -Down on them bangs the northeast wind with -a roar and a rattle—and presently our sands -have hold of them with a grip that is to keep -them fast there till the last day! Sometimes -the dead men who were living sailors aboard -those ships come ashore to us, though they are<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_176" id="Page_176">[176]</a></span> -more like to find graves in the sands that murdered -them or to be swept out to sea; sometimes, -by a twist of chance that you may call a miracle, -the sea has a fancy for casting one or two of -them ashore alive. Dazed and half mad creatures -those live ones are, usually: their wits -all jangled and shaken by the great horror that -has been upon them while they tossed among the -waves.</p> - -<p>And so, as you may see, we men of the Suffolk -and Norfolk coast need the stiff backbone -that we have as our birthright for the sea-fighting -that is our life-work; and it is not to be -wondered at that our life of sea-fighting makes -us still more set and stubborn in our ways.</p> - - -<h3>II</h3> - -<p>My little Tess came to me, a sea upcast, after -one of our great northeast gales. I myself found -her: lying where the waves had landed her on -the shingle, and where they had left her with -the fall of the tide.</p> - -<p>I was but a bit of a lad myself, then, going on -to be eight years old. Storms had no fright in -them for me in those days. What I most was -thinking about when one was blowing—while<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_177" id="Page_177">[177]</a></span> -my poor mother, if my father was out in his -boat, would be looking wild-eyed seaward, or -in the bed-room praying for him on her knees—was -what I'd be picking up on the shingle -when the gale was over and the sea gone down. -Later on, when I came to know that at the -gale's end I might be lying myself on the -shingle, along with the other wreckage, I got -to looking at storms in a different way.</p> - -<p>That blow that brought my Tess to me had -no fears in it for my poor mother, seeing that -it came in the night time and my father safe -at home. The noise of my father getting up -wakened me; and in a sleepy way I watched -him from my little bed, when he had the lamp -lighted, hurrying his clothes on that he might -go down to where his boat was hauled up on -the shingle and heave her with the capstan -still higher above the on-run of the waves. And -as I lay there, very drowsy, watching my father -drag his big boots on and hearing the roar of the -wind and feeling the shaking that it was giving -to our house-walls, there came suddenly the -sharp loud bang of a gun.</p> - -<p>My father stopped as he heard it—with one -leg in the air and his hands gripping the boot-straps, -I can see him now. "That's from close<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_178" id="Page_178">[178]</a></span> -by!" he said. "God help them—they must be -ashore on the Barnard Bank!" Then he jammed -his other boot on, jumped into his sou'wester, -and was gone on a run. My mother ran to -the door—I know now, having myself helped -to get men ashore from wrecked ships at my -life's peril, what her fear was—and called after -him into the darkness: "Don't thou go to putting -thy life in danger, George May!" What -she said did no good. The wind swallowed her -words before they got to him. For a minute -or two she stood in the doorway, all blown -about; then, putting her weight on it, she got -the door shut and came back into the bed-room -and knelt by the bedside praying for him. I -still was very drowsy. Presently I went off -to sleep again, thinking—God forgive me for -it!—that if a ship had stranded on the Barnard -I'd find some pretty pickings when morning -came and the storm was over and I could -get down to the shore.</p> - -<p>And that was my first thought when I wakened, -and found the sun shining and the wind blowing -no more than a gentle breeze. My father -was home again, and safe and sound. There -had been no chance for a rescue, he said—the -ship being deep down in the sands, and all her<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_179" id="Page_179">[179]</a></span> -people swept out of her, by the time that daylight -came. And so I bolted my breakfast, -and the very minute that I had it inside of me -I was off down the cliff-path and along the beach -northward to find what I could find. All the -other Southwold boys were hurrying that way -too; but our house being up at the north end -of the village gave me the start of all of them -but John Heath, who lived close by us, and he -came down the cliff-path at my heels.</p> - -<p>The Barnard Bank lies off shore from Covehithe -Ness, and under the Ness our pickings -would be most like to be. At the best they -would be but little things—buckets and baskets -and brooms and odd oars, and such like—the -coast guard men seeing to it that we got -no more; but things, all the same, that any boy -would jump for: and so away John and I ran -together, and we kept together until we were -under the Ness—and could see the broken stern-post -of the wreck, all that was left to see of her, -sticking up from the Barnard going bare with -the falling tide. There I passed him—he giving -a shout and stopping to pick up a basket -that I missed seeing because on my side weed -covered it—and so was leading him as we rounded -the Ness by a dozen yards. And then it was<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_180" id="Page_180">[180]</a></span> -I who gave a shout—and made a dash for a big -white bundle that was lying in a nook of the -shingle just above the lap of the waves.</p> - -<p>John saw the bundle almost as soon as I did, -and raced me for it. But I did see it first, and -I touched it first, and so it fairly was mine. -A white sheet was the outside of it; and at -one corner, under the sheet, a bit of a blanket -showed. I would have none of John's help as -I unwrapped it. He stood beside me, though, -and said as I opened it that even if I had touched -it first we had seen it together—which wasn't -so—and that we must go share and share. I -did not answer him, being full of wonder what -I was like to come to when I had the bundle -undone. In a good deal of a hurry I got the -sheet loose, it was knotted at the corners, and -then the blanket, and then still another blanket -that was under the first one: and when that -inner wrapping was opened there was lying—a -little live baby! It looked up into my face with -its big black eyes, and it blinked them for a -minute—having been all shut up in the dark -and the sunlight bothering it—and then it -smiled at me as if I'd just waked it up not -from the very edge of death in the sea but from -a comfortable nap in its cradle on land!</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_181" id="Page_181">[181]</a></span></p> - -<p>John Heath burst out laughing. "You can -have my share of it, George," said he; "we've -got babies enough of our own at home." And -with that he ran away and began to look again -for brooms and buckets along the shore.</p> - -<p>But I loved my little Tess from that first -sight of her, and I was glad that John had -said that I might have his share in her; though -of course, because I first saw her and first touched -her, he had no real share in her at all. So -I wrapped her up again as well as I could in -her blankets—leaving the wet sheet lying there—and -set off for home along the shore, carrying -her in my arms. Tired enough I got before -I had lugged my load that long way, and up -the cliff, and so to our house door. In the doorway -my mother was standing, and I put the -bundle in her arms. "Lord save us!" said my -mother. "What's the boy got here?"</p> - -<p>"Mother," said I, "it's a little beautiful live -baby—and I found it, and it's mine!"</p> - - -<h3>III</h3> - -<p>That was the way that my Tess came to me: -and I know now how good my father and my -mother were in letting me keep her for my<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_182" id="Page_182">[182]</a></span> -own—they with only what my father could -make by his fishing to live on, and the wolf -never very far away from the door. But the -look of those black eyes of hers and the smile -in them won my mother's love to her, just as it -had won mine; and my mother told me, too, -long years afterward, that her heart was hungry -for the girl baby that God had not given -her—and she said that Tess seemed to be her -very own baby from the minute that she took -her close to her breast from my tired little -arms.</p> - -<p>As to where Tess came from—from what port -in all the wide world the ship sailed that -brought her to us—we had no way of knowing. -Nothing but Tess in her bundle came ashore -from the wreck; and what was left of the ship -burrowed down into the sands so fast and so -far that there was to be seen of her only a broken -bit of her stern-post at the storm's ending. Even -after the set of the currents against her sunken -hull, on the next spring tide, had cut through -the Barnard Bank and so made the Wreck Gat, -no part of her but her broken stern-post ever -showed. Tess herself, though, told us what her -own name was, and so gave us a notion as to -what land she belonged to; but we should have<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_183" id="Page_183">[183]</a></span> -been none the wiser for her telling it—she talking -in words that were the same as Greek to us—if -the Vicar had not lent us a hand.</p> - -<p>My finding the baby made a stir in the whole -village, and everybody had to have a look at -her. In the afternoon along came the Vicar -too—smiling through his gold spectacles, as he -always did, and swinging his black cane. By -that time, having had all the milk she could -hold, and a good nap, and more milk again, -Tess was as bright as a new sixpence: just as -though she had not passed that morning nearer -to death than ever she was like to pass again -and live. She was lying snug in my mother's -arms before the fire, and in her own fashion -was talking away at a great rate—and my mother's -heart quite breaking because her pretty chatter -was all in heathen words that nobody could -get at the meaning of. But the Vicar, being -very learned, understood her in a minute. -"Why, it's Spanish," said he. "It's Spanish -as sure as you're born! She's calling you 'madrecita,' -Mrs. May—which is the same as 'motherkin,' -you know. But I can't make even a -guess at the rest of it. Everything ends in -'ita'—real baby-talk."</p> - -<p>"Do kindly ask her, sir, what her blessed<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_184" id="Page_184">[184]</a></span> -little name is," said my mother. "It'll bring -her a deal closer to us to know her name."</p> - -<p>"I'll try her in Latin," said the Vicar—"that's -the best that I can manage—and it'll be -hit or miss if she understands." And then he -bent over the little tot—she being then a bit -over two years old, my mother thought—and -asked her what her name was in Latin words.</p> - -<p>For a minute there was a puzzled look in the -big black eyes of her and her brow puckered. -And then she smiled all over her pretty face -and answered, as clear as you please: "Tesita." -That a baby no bigger than that understood -Latin always has seemed to me most like a -miracle of anything that ever I have known!</p> - -<p>My mother looked bothered and chap-fallen. -"It's not a real name at all," she said, and -sighed over it.</p> - -<p>"It's a very good name indeed, Mrs. May," -said the Vicar; "only she's giving you her baby -way of saying it. Her name is Theresa. 'Tesita' -is the same as our 'Tess' would be, you -know."</p> - -<p>"Theresa! Tess!" cried my mother, brightening -up all in a minute. "Why, that was my -own dear mother's name! Her having that name -seems to make her in real truth mine, sir!" And<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_185" id="Page_185">[185]</a></span> -she hugged the baby close to the heart of her, -and all in the same breath cried over it and -laughed over it—thinking, I suppose, of her -mother dead and buried, and thankful for the -daughter that she so longed for that had come -to her upcast by the sea.</p> - -<p>More than what her name was, as is not -to be wondered at, Tess never told us; and the -only thing in the world that gave us any -knowledge of her—and that no more than that -her people were like to be gentlefolk—was a -gold chain about her neck, under her little night -gown, with a locket fast to it on which were -some letters in such a jumble that even the -Vicar could not make head nor tail of them, -though he tried hard.</p> - - -<h3>IV</h3> - -<p>Whatever part of the world Tess came from, -it was plain enough by the look of her—and -more and more plain as she grew up into a tall -and lanky girl, and then into a tall slim woman—that -Suffolk was a long way off from the land -where she was born.</p> - -<p>Our Suffolk folk, for the most part, are shortish -and thickset and fair and blue eyed. We<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_186" id="Page_186">[186]</a></span> -men—being whipped about by the wind and -weather, and the sea-salt tanned into us—lose -our fairness early and go a bun-brown; but our -women—having no salt spray in their faces, and -only their just allowance of sunshine—have -their blue eyes matched with the red and white -cheeks that they were born with; and their hair, -though sometimes it goes darkish, usually is a -bright chestnut or a bright brown. Also, our -women are steady-going and sensible; though -I must say that now and then they are a bit -hard to get along with: being given to doing -their thinking slowly, and to being mighty fast -set in their own notions when once they have -made their minds up—the same as we men. As -for Tess—with her black eyes and her black -hair, and her face all a cream white with not -a touch of red in it—she was like none of them; -and she could think more out-of-the-way things -and be more sorts of a girl in five minutes than -any Suffolk lass that ever I came across could -think or be in a whole year!</p> - -<p>Tess was unlike our girls in another matter: -she had a mighty hot spit-fire temper of her own. -Our girls, the same as our men, are easy-going -and anger slowly; but when they do anger they -are glowing hot to their very finger-tips, and a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_187" id="Page_187">[187]</a></span> -long while it takes them to cool off. But Tess -would blaze up all in a minute—and as often -as not with no real reason for it—and be for a -while such an out-and-out little fury that she -would send everything scudding before her; and -then would pull up suddenly in the thick of it, -and seem to forget all about it, and like enough -laugh at the people around her looking scared! -Somehow, though, it was seldom that she let -me have a turn of her tantrums; and when she -did they'd be over in no time, and she'd have -her arms around me and be begging me to kiss -her and to tell her that I didn't mind. I suppose -that she was that way with me because -for my part—having from the very first so -loved her that quarreling with her was clean impossible—I -used just to stand and stare at her -in her passions; and like enough be showing by -the look in my eyes the puzzled sorrow that -I was feeling in my inside. As to answering -her anger with my anger, it never once crossed -my mind.</p> - -<p>With John Heath things went differently. -He would go ugly when she flew out at him—and -would keep his anger by him after hers -long was over and done with, and would show -it by putting some hurt upon her in a dirty way.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_188" id="Page_188">[188]</a></span> -A good many thrashings I gave John Heath, -at one time or another, for that sort of thing; -and the greatest piece of unreasonableness that -Tess ever put on me, which is saying much for it, -was on that score: she being then ten years old, -or thereabouts, and John and I well turned of -sixteen.</p> - -<p>Some trick that he played on her—I don't -know what it was—set her in a rage against -him, and he made her worse by laughing at -her, and she ended by throwing sand in his eyes. -Then his anger got up, and he caught her—being -twice the size of her—and boxed her ears. -I came along just then, and I can see the look -of her now. She was not crying, as any ordinary -child would have been—John having meant -to hurt her, and hit hard. She was standing -straight in front of him with her little hands -gripped into fists as if she meant to fight him, -that cream white face of hers gone a real dead -white, a perfect blaze of passion in her big -black eyes. In another second or so she'd have -been flying at him if I'd given her the chance. -But I didn't—I sailed right in and myself gave -him what he needed; and when I had finished -with him I had so well blackened the two eyes -of him that he forgot about the sand. But after<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_189" id="Page_189">[189]</a></span> -it all was over, so far from being obliged to me, -what did Tess do but fall to crying because I'd -hurt him, and to saying that he'd only given -her what she deserved! For a week and more -she would not speak to me, and all that time she -was trotting about sorrowfully at John's heels. -It seemed as though all of a sudden she had got -to loving him because he had played the man -and the master to her; and I'm sure that his -love for her had its beginning then too.</p> - -<p>John's folks and my folks, as I have said, -lived up at the north end of the village, a bit -apart, and that made us three keep most together -while we were little; but Tess never had much -to do with the other children, even when she -got big enough to be with them at school. They -did not get along with her, being puzzled by her -whims and fancies and set against her by her -spit-fire ways. And she did not get along with -them because she was quick about everything -and all of them were slow. When she began -to grow up, though, matters changed a good -deal. The boys—she being like nobody else in -the village—picked her out to make love to, and -that set the girls by the ears. Tess liked the -love-making a deal more than I liked her to like -it; and she didn't mind what the girls said to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_190" id="Page_190">[190]</a></span> -her because her wits were nimbler than their -wits and she always could give them better than -they could send.</p> - -<p>So things went while the years went till Tess -was turned of seventeen, and was shot up into -a tall slim woman in all ways so beautiful as to -be, I do believe, the most beautiful woman that -God ever made. And then it was that Grace -Gryce, damn her for it, found a whip that -served to lash her; and so cruel a whip that she -was near to lashing the life out of her with it -at a single blow.</p> - - -<h3>V</h3> - -<p>According to our Suffolk notions, Grace Gryce -was a beauty: being strongly set up and full -built and well rounded, with cheeks as red as -strawberries, and blue eyes that for any good -looking man had a smile in them, and over all -a head of bright-brown hair. Had Tess been -out of the way she'd have had things all as she -wanted them, not another girl in the village -for looks coming near her; and so it was only -human nature, I suppose, that she hated Tess -for crossing her—making her always go second, -and a bad second, with the men.</p> - -<p>It was about John Heath, though, that the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_191" id="Page_191">[191]</a></span> -heart of the matter was. All the village knew -that Grace fancied him, and that he half fancied -her—and would have fancied her altogether had -Tess been out of the way. Making up his mind -between them—John always was a thick thinker—did -not seem to come easy to him. The whims -and the ways of Tess—that made a dozen different -sorts of girl of her in five minutes—seemed -to set him off from her a-most as much as -they set him on: being a sort of puzzle, I'm free -to say, that other men beside John couldn't well -understand. With Grace it was different. She -might blow hot or she might blow cold with -him; or she might show her temper—she had -a-plenty of it—and give him the rough side of -her tongue: but what she meant and what she -wanted always was plain and clear. To be sure, -this is only my guess why he hung in the wind -between them. Maybe he set too little store on -Tess's love because it came to him too easily; -maybe he thought that by seeming to love her -lightly he best could hold her fast.</p> - -<p>Hold her fast he did, and that is certain. -In spite of all her whimsies, he had her love; -and it was his, as I have said, from the time -when he man-mastered her by boxing the little -ears of her—she being only ten years old. Al<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_192" id="Page_192">[192]</a></span>ways -after that, even when she was at her sauciest -and her airiest, he had only to speak short -and sharp to her and she'd come to heel to him -like a dog. Sometimes, seeing her taking orders -from him that way was close to setting me wild: -I having my whole heart fixed on her, and ready -to give the very hands of me to have from her -the half of what she gave him. Not but what -she loved me too, in her own fashion, and dearly. -She showed that by the way that she used -to come to me in all her little hurts and troubles; -and the sweetness and the comfortingness of her -to me and to my mother always, but most when -my poor father was drowned, was beyond any -words that I have to put it in. But my pain -was that the love which she had for me was of -the same sort that she had for my mother—and -I was not wanting from her love of that kind. -And so it cut to the quick of me—I who would -have kissed her shoe-soles—to see her so ready -always to be meek and humble at a word from -John. There were times, and a good many of -them—seeing her so dog-faithful to him, and he -almost as careless of her as if she had been -no more than a dog to him—that I saw red -as I looked at him, and got burning hot in -the insides of me, and was as close to murder<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_193" id="Page_193">[193]</a></span>ing -him as I well could be and he still go on -alive.</p> - -<p>Like enough Grace Gryce—being of the same -stock that I was, and made much as I was—had -the same feeling for Tess that I had for John; -and Grace, being a woman, had nothing to stop -her from murdering Tess in a woman's way. -She would have done it sooner had her wits -been quicker. Time and again they had had -their word-fights together, and Tess always getting -the better of her because Grace's wits, like -the rest of her, were heavy and slow.</p> - -<p>It was down by the boats, under the Gun Hill, -that they fought the round out in which Grace -drew blood at last. A lot of the girls were -together there and Tess, for a wonder, happened -to be with them. They all were saying to her -what hard things they could think of; and she, -in her quick way, was hitting back at them -and scoring off them all. Poor sort of stuff it -was that they were giving her: calling her -"Miss Fine-Airs" and "Miss Maypole," and -scorning the black eyes and the pale face of -her, and girding at her the best they could because -in no way was she like themselves.</p> - -<p>"It's a pity I'm so many kinds of ugliness!" -says Tess in her saucy way, and making it worse<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_194" id="Page_194">[194]</a></span> -by laughing. "It's a true pity that I'm not -pretty, like all the rest of you, and so am left -lonely. If only I'd some of your good looks, -you see, I might have, as the rest of you have, -a lot of men at my heels."</p> - -<p>That was a shot that hit all of them, but it -hit Grace the hardest and she answered it. "It's -better," said she, "to go your whole life without -a man at your heels than it is to spend your -whole life dog-tagging at the heels of a man."</p> - -<p>The girls laughed at that, knowing well what -Grace was driving at. But Tess was ready with -her answer and whipped back with it: "Well, -it's better to tag at a man's heels and he pleased -with it than it is to want to tag there and he -not letting you—liking a may-pole, maybe, better -than a butter-tub, and caring more, maybe, -for grace by nature than for Grace by name."</p> - -<p>That turned the joke—only it was no joke—on -Grace again; and as the girls had not much -more liking for her than they had for Tess, seeing -that she spoiled what few man-chances Tess -left them, they laughed at her as hard as they -could laugh.</p> - -<p>Grace's slow anger had been getting hotter -and hotter in her. That shot of Tess's, and the -girls all laughing at her, brought it to a boil.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_195" id="Page_195">[195]</a></span></p> - -<p>"Who be'st thou, to open thy ugly mouth to -me?" she jerked out, with a squeak in her voice -and her blue eyes blazing. "Who be'st thou, -anyway? Who knows the father or the mother -of thee? Who knows what foul folk in what -foul land bore thee? Dog-tag thou may'st, but—mark -my words—naught will come of it: because -thou'rt not fit for John Heath or for any -other honest man to have dealings with—thou -rotten upcast of the sea!"</p> - -<p>Tess was holding her head high and was -scornful-looking when this speech began; but -the ending of it, so Mary Benacre told my mother, -seemed like a knife in her heart. Her face -went a sort of a pasty white, so Mary said; and -she seemed to choke, somehow, and put her -hand up to her throat in a fluttering kind of -way as if her throat hurt her. And then she -sort of staggered, and made a grab at the boat -she was standing by and leaned against it—looking, -so Mary said, as if she was like to die.</p> - -<p>"Mayhap now thou'lt keep quiet a bit," -Grace said, with her hands on her fat hips and -her elbows out; and with that, and a flounce -at her, turned away. The other girls, all except -Mary, went along with Grace; but not talking, -and most of them scared-looking: feeling, like<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_196" id="Page_196">[196]</a></span> -enough, as men would feel standing by at the -end of a knife-fight, when one man is down with -a cut that has done for him and there is a smell -of blood in the air.</p> - -<p>Mary staid behind—she was a good sort, was -Mary Benacre—and went to Tess and tried to -comfort her. Tess didn't answer her, but just -looked at her with a pitiful sort of stare out -of her black eyes that Mary said was like the -look of some poor dumb thing that had no other -way of telling how bad its hurt was. And then, -rousing herself up, Tess pushed Mary away -from her and started for home on a run. Mary -did not follow her, but later on she came and -told my mother just what had happened and -gave her Grace Gryce's words.</p> - -<p>It was well that Mary came, that way, and -told a clear story about it all. What Tess told—when -she came flying into the house and -caught my mother around the neck and put her -poor head on my mother's breast and went off -into a passion of crying there—was such a muddle -that my mother knew only that Grace Gryce -had said something to her that was wickedly -cruel. Tess cried and cried, as if she'd cry the -very life out of her; and kept sobbing out that -she was a sea upcast, and a nobody's daughter,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_197" id="Page_197">[197]</a></span> -and that the sea would have done better by her -had it drowned her, and that she hoped she'd -die soon and be forgotten—until she drove my -mother almost wild.</p> - -<p>And so it went for a long while with her, my -mother petting her and crying over her, until -at last—the feel, I suppose, of my mother's -warm love for her getting into her poor hurt -heart and comforting her—she began to quiet -down. Then my mother got her to bed—she -was as weak as water—and made a pot of bone-set -tea for her; and pretty soon after she'd -drunk a cup or two of it she dropped off to sleep. -She still was sleeping when Mary Benacre came -and told the whole story; and so stirred up my -mother's anger—and she was a very gentle-natured -woman, my mother was—that it was all -she could do, she said afterwards, not to go -straight off to Grace Gryce and give her a beating -with her own hands.</p> - - -<h3>VI</h3> - -<p>When Tess came to breakfast the next morning -it gave me a real turn to look at her. Somehow, -at a single jump, she seemed to have -changed from a girl to a woman—and to an old<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_198" id="Page_198">[198]</a></span> -woman at that. Suddenly she had got to be all -withered like, and the airs that she used to give -herself and all the pretty ways of her were gone. -She just moped in a chair in a corner—she -who'd never been quiet for five minutes together, -any more than a bird—with a far-away look in -her beautiful eyes, and the glint of tears in -them. Sorrow had got into the very bones of -her. "Dost think I really am come of such -foul folk that I'm not fit for honest company?" -she asked my mother—and if she asked that -question once that morning she asked it a dozen -times.</p> - -<p>In a way, of course, she had known what she -was all her life long. "My sea-baby" was my -mother's pet name for her at the first; and by -that pet-name, when most tender with her, my -mother called her till the last. How she had -come to us, how I had found her where the -waves had left her and had carried her home -in my little tired arms, she had been told over -and over again. Sometimes she used to make -up stories about herself in her light-fancied -way: telling us that she was a great lady of -Spain, and that some fine morning the great -Spanish lord her father would come to Southwold -by some chance or other, and would know<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_199" id="Page_199">[199]</a></span> -her by the chain and the locket, and would take -her home with him and marry her to a duke—or -to a prince, even—in her own land. We'd see -that she'd be pretending to herself while she told -them to us that these stories were true, and I -think that she did half believe in them. But -it was not real believing that she had in them; -it was the sort of believing that you have in -things in dreams. Her love was given to my -mother and to my father—and to me, too, -though not in the way that I wanted it—and -we were the true kinsfolk of her heart. On our -side, we all so loved her, and made her feel so -truly that she was our very own, that the -thought of her being a nobody's child never -had a chance to get into her mind. And her -own fancies about herself—always that her own -dream people were great people in the dream -land where they lived—kept her from seeing -the other chance of the matter: that they as well -might be mean people, who would put shame on -her should ever she come to know who they were. -Into her head that cruel thought never got until -Grace Gryce put it there; and put there with -it the crueller thought that her being a nobody's -child was what made John stand off from her, -he thinking her not fit to be his wife.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_200" id="Page_200">[200]</a></span></p> - -<p>Tess was fearing, maybe, that even if John -had not had that feeling about her he was like -to have it after Grace had set him in the way of -it. And maybe she was thinking, too, that if she -had been hurt for the sake of him, and so deserved -loving pity from him, it was Grace who -for the sake of him had done the hurting—and -that it was Grace who had won. Our girls are -best pleased with the lover who fights to a finish -some other man in love with them and well -thrashes him. Tess may have fancied that John -would take it that way; and so end by settling -that Grace, having the most fire and fight in -her, was the most to his mind. But what really -came of it all with John, as far as I can make -out, was that his getting them fairly set the -one against the other cleared his thick wits up -and brought him to a choice.</p> - -<p>And so, being in every way sorrowful, Tess -was like a dead girl that day; and my heart -was just breaking for her. When dinner time -came she roused up a bit and helped my mother, -as she always did—though my mother wanted -her to keep resting—and tried in a pitiful sort -of way to talk a little and to pretend that she -was not in bitter pain; but those pretty feet of -hers, so light always, dragged after her in her<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_201" id="Page_201">[201]</a></span> -walking, and she was all wizened-looking, and -there were black marks under her beautiful sorrowing -eyes. My mother helped to make talk -with her, though my mother was wiping her own -tears away when she got the chance; but as for -me, I was tongue-tied by the hurt and the anger -in me and could not say a word. What I was -thinking was, how glad I'd be to wring Grace -Gryce's neck for her if only she was a man!</p> - -<p>After dinner I went out to a bench in front -of our house, but a bit away from it, and sat -there trying to comfort myself with a pipe—and -not finding much even in a pipe to comfort me—until -the sun, all yellow, began to drop down -toward the Gun Hill into a bad looking yellow -sky. All the while I had the tail of my eye -bearing on our door, and at last I saw Tess come -out of it. She took a quick look at the back -of me, sitting quiet there; and then, I not -turning toward her, off she walked along the -edge of the cliff to the northward. At first I -didn't know what to do—thinking that if she -wanted to be alone I ought to leave her to her -loneliness—and I sat on and smoked another -pipe before I could make up my mind. But the -longer I sat there the stronger my drawing was -to go to her. What was hurting her most, as<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_202" id="Page_202">[202]</a></span> -I well enough knew, was the thought of having -neither kith nor kin for herself, along with -the dread that even if she found her people they -might only be a shame to her—and that was a -hurt that having a husband would cure for her, -seeing that she would get a new and a good rating -in the world when she got her husband's -name. And so, at last, I started after her to tell -her all that was in the heart of me; and thinking -more, and this is the truth, of what I could -do to comfort her by taking the sting out of -Grace Gryce's words than of how in that same -way I could win my own happiness.</p> - -<p>I walked on so far—across the dip in the land -where the old river was, and up on the cliffs -again—that I began to think she had turned -about inland and so had gone that way home. -But at last I came up with her, on the very -top of Covehithe Ness.</p> - -<p>She was sitting at the cliff-edge, bent forward -a little with her elbows on her knees and her -face in her hands; and as I came close to her I -saw that she was crying in that quiet sort of -way that people cry in when they have touched -despair. I walked so softly on the grass that -she did not hear my footsteps; but she was not -put out when she looked up and saw me stand<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_203" id="Page_203">[203]</a></span>ing -over her—by which I think, and am the -happier for thinking it, that she had not gone -there of set purpose to meet with John.</p> - -<p>"Sit thee down here, George. I'm glad -thou'rt come," she said, and she reached me her -hand.</p> - -<p>When I was on the grass beside her—she still -keeping her hand in mine, as if the touch of -something that loved her was a comfort to her—she -had nothing to say for a bit, but just -leaned her head against my shoulder and cried -softly there.</p> - -<p>The tide was out and a long stretch of the -Barnard Bank lay bared below us, with here -and there the black bones of some dead ship -lying buried in them sticking up from the sands. -Slicing deep in the bank was the Wreck Gat, -with the last of the ebb running out through it -from the Covehithe Channel and the undercut -sides of it falling down into the water and melting -away. At the edge of it was the sunken ship -that had made it: the ship that had brought -Tess to us from her birth-land beyond the seas. -As I have said, no more of the wreck showed -than her broken stern-post: a bit of black timber, -all jagged with twisted iron bolts and weed-grown -and barnacled, upstanding at one side of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_204" id="Page_204">[204]</a></span> -the channel from the water and not high out -of it even at low tide. When the tide was in, -and any sort of a sea was running, you stood -a good chance of finding just where it was by -having your boat stove on it: for then it did -not show at all, except now and then in the -hollow of the waves.</p> - -<p>Tess was looking down on it, her head still -resting on my shoulder, and after a while she -said: "If only we could dig that ship up, -George, we might find what would tell that I'm -not come of foul folk, after all"—and then she -began to cry again in the same silent sort of -way. I couldn't get an answer for her—what -she said hurt me so, and she crying on my shoulder, -and I feeling the beating of her heart.</p> - -<p>"It was good of thee, George," she went on -again, presently, "to save the baby life of me; -but it's a true truth thou'dst have done me more -of a kindness hadst thou just thrown me back -into the sea. I'd be glad to be there now, George. -Down there under the water it would make no -difference what sort of folk I come of. And -I'd be resting there as I can't rest here—for -down there my pain would be gone."</p> - -<p>My throat was so choked up that I had hard -work to get my words out of it, and when they<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_205" id="Page_205">[205]</a></span> -did come they sounded queer. "Tess! Tess!" -I said. "Thou'lt kill me dead talking that -way. As if the like of thee could come of foul -folk! A lord duke would be the least to be fit -father to thee—and proud of thee he well might -be! But what does it matter, Tess, what thy -folk were who owned thee at the beginning? -They gave thee to the sea's keeping—and the -sea gave thee to me. By right of finding, thou'rt -mine. It was I who found thee, down on the -shingle there, and from the first minute that ever -I laid eyes on thee I loved thee—and the only -change in me has been that always I've loved -thee more and more. Whether thy people were -foul folk or fair folk is all one to me. It's thyself -that I'm loving—and with every bit of the -love that is in my heart. Let me make thee the -wife of me, Tess—and then thou'lt have no need -to fret about who thy forbears were for thou'lt -have no more to do with them, being made a -part of me and mine."</p> - -<p>I talked at such a rate, when I did get set -a-going, that my own words ran away with me; -and I got the feeling that they ran away with -Tess too. But when I had ended, and she lifted -up her head from my shoulder and looked -straight into the eyes of me, I knew by what<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_206" id="Page_206">[206]</a></span> -her eyes had in them—before ever she said a -word back to me—that what I wanted most in -the whole world for myself I could not have.</p> - -<p>It seemed to me an hour before she spoke, she -all the time looking straight into my eyes and -her own eyes full of tears. At last she did -speak. "George," said she, "if I could be wife -to thee, as thou'dst have me be, I'd go down -on my knees and thank God! But it can't be, -George. It can't be! I've set my heart."</p> - -<p>There was no doubting what she said. In the -sound of her voice there was something that -seemed as much as her words to settle the matter -for good and all. Whenever I am at a funeral -and hear the reading of the burial service it -brings back to me the sound of her voice that -day. Only there is a promise of hope in the -burial service—and that there was not for me -in Tess's words.</p> - -<p>"It's John that's between us?" I asked.</p> - -<p>"Yes," she said, speaking slow, "it's John." -She was quiet for a minute and then went on -again, still speaking slow: "I don't understand -it myself, George. Thou'rt a better-hearted man -than he is, and I truly think I love him less -than I do thee. But—but I love him in another -way."</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_207" id="Page_207">[207]</a></span></p> - -<p>"Damn him!" said I.</p> - -<p>That got out before I could stop it, but when -it had got out I wasn't sorry. It told what I felt -then—and it tells what I feel now. John's taking -her from me was stealing, and nothing less. -We were together when I found her, he and I; -but I first saw her and I first touched her—and -he gave me his share in her, though he had no -real share in her, when he knew what my finding -was. And so his taking her from me was stealing: -and that is God's truth!</p> - -<p>Tess said nothing back to me. She only looked -at me sorrowful for a minute, and then looked -down again at the bit of wreck on the sands. -By the sigh she gave I knew pretty well what -was in her mind.</p> - -<p>I'd had my answer, and that was the end of it. -"I'll be going now, Tess," I said; and I got -up and she got up with me. I was not feeling -steady on my legs, and like enough I had a queer -look on me. As for Tess, she was near as white -as a dead woman, though some of her whiteness -may have come from the yellow sunshine on her -out of the western sky. Up there on top of the -Ness we still had the sun with us, though he -was almost gone among the foul weather yellow -clouds.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_208" id="Page_208">[208]</a></span></p> - -<p>"Thou'lt try to forgive me, George," she said, -speaking low, and her mouth sort of twitching.</p> - -<p>"I love thee, Tess," I said; "and where -there's love there can be no talk of forgiveness. -But John has the hate of me, and I tell thee -fairly I'll hurt him if I can!"</p> - -<p>With that I left her—there on Covehithe -Ness, over the very spot where the sea brought -her to me—and went walking back along the -cliff-edge: and not seeing anything clearly because -I was thinking about John, and what I'd -like to do to him, and there was a sort of red -blur before my eyes.</p> - -<p>After a while I turned and looked back. My -eyes had cleared a bit, but what I saw made them -red again. Tess was not alone on the Ness. John -was with her. The two stood out strong in the -last of the yellow sunshine against a cloud-bank -on the far edge of the sky. I suppose that Tess -being hurt that way for him brought John to -his bearings—making him love her the more for -sorrow's sake, and for anger's sake making him -ready to throw Grace Gryce over. Like enough -he had been watching for his chance to get -to her, waiting till I was gone. Anyway, there -he was—and I knew what he was saying to her -as well as if I'd heard the words. It is no won<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_209" id="Page_209">[209]</a></span>der -that the blood got into my eyes again as I -started back along the path. But I did not go -far. Somehow I managed to pull myself together -and turn again. What I had to settle -with John Heath could be settled best when he -and I were alone.</p> - - -<h3>VII</h3> - -<p>When Tess came home to supper that night -she was all changed again: her looks gay once -more, and her step light, and a sort of flutter -about her lips—as if she was wanting to smile -and was trying not to—and a soft look in her -eyes that I never had seen there, but knew the -meaning of and found the worst of all.</p> - -<p>I couldn't eat my supper; and got up presently -and went out leaving it—my mother looking -after me wondering—and walked up and -down on the cliff-edge in the darkness with my -heart all in a blaze of hate for John. For a -good while I had been looking for what I knew -was in the way of coming to me; but it was -different, and worse, and hurt more than I had -counted on, when at last it came. Out there in -the darkness I staid until the night was well -on—not wanting for a while to hear the sound of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_210" id="Page_210">[210]</a></span> -Tess's voice nor to lay eyes on her. Not until -I was sure, by the lights being out in the house, -that she'd gone to bed, did I go in again. My -mother was waiting waking for me. She came -to me in the dark and put her arms around me -and kissed me; by which I knew that Tess had -been telling her—and knew, too, she always -having looked to the wedding of us, that her -heart was sore along with mine. But I could -not bear even her soft touch on the hurt that -I had. I just kissed her back again and broke -away from her and went to bed. And in the -very early morning, not having slept much, I -slipped out of the house before either she or -Tess was stirring and down to my boat and so -away to sea.</p> - -<p>What I was after was to get some quiet time -to myself that would steady me before I had -things out with John. I was not clear in my -mind how I meant to settle with him. I did -know, though, that I meant to have some sort of -a fair fight with him that would end in my killing -him or in him killing me—and I knew that -to tackle him with my head all in a buzz would -be to throw too many chances his way. And so I -got away in my boat, at the day-dawn, to the -sea's quietness: where I could clear my head of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_211" id="Page_211">[211]</a></span> -the buzzing that was in it and put some sort of -shape to my plans.</p> - -<p>Had I been in my sober senses that morning -I never should have gone away seaward at all. -Backing up the promise of the yellow sunset of -the night before, pink clouds were showing in -the eastern sky as I started; and as I sailed on -in loneliness—standing straight out from the -land on a soft leading wind from the south-west -westerly—the pink turned to a pale red and then -to a deep red, and at last the sun came up out -of the water a great ball of fire. The look of the -sea, too, all in an oily bubble, and the set of the -ground-swell, told me plain enough—even without -the sunrise fairly shouting it in the ears of -me—that a change of wind was coming before -mid-day, and that pretty soon after the wind -shifted it would be blowing a gale.</p> - -<p>I will say this, though: If I'd missed seeing -the red sunrise—and all the more if I'd been -full of happiness and my wits gone a wool-gathering—I -might have thought from the look -and the feel of the water, and from the set of -the high clouds, that the wind would not blow -to hurt anything for a good twelve hours. That -much I'll say by way of excuse for John. Like -enough he slept late that morning—through ly<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_212" id="Page_212">[212]</a></span>ing -awake the night before thinking what he'd -be likely to think—and so missed seeing the sun's -warning. When he did get away in his boat -it was well past eight o'clock; and there was no -man on the beach when he started, so they told -me, to counsel him. And, all being said, even a -good sailor—and that John was—starting off as -he was to buy a wedding-ring might not look as -sharp as he ought to look at the sea and at the sky.</p> - -<p>As to my own sailing seaward—I seeing the -storm-signals and knowing the meaning of them—I -have no more to say than that I was hot -for a fight with anything that morning, and -didn't care much what I had it with or how it -came. Anybody who knows how to sail a boat, -and to sail one well, knows what joy there is -in getting the better of foul winds and rough -seas for the mere fun of the thing; but there is -still more joy in a tussle of that sort when you -are in a towering rage. Then you are ready to -push the fight farther by taking more and bigger -death-chances: since a man in bitter anger—at -least in such bitter anger as I was in then—does -not care much whether he pulls through -safely or gets drowned. And so I went on my -course seaward, on that soft wind blowing more -and more lazily, until the coast line was lost<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_213" id="Page_213">[213]</a></span> -in the water behind me: knowing well enough, -and glad to have it that way, that the wind -would lull and lull until it failed me, and that -then I would get a blow out of the northeast -that would give me all the fight I wanted, and -perhaps a bit to spare!</p> - -<p>But because I meant my fight to be a good -one, and meant to win it, I got myself ready for -it. When the wind did fail—the sun was put -out by that time, and from high up in the northeast -the scud was flying over me—I took in and -snugged away everything but my mainsail, and -put a double reef in that with the reef-points -knotted to hold. Then I waited, drifting south -a little—the flood having made half an hour before, -and the set of the ebb taking me that way.</p> - -<p>I did not have to wait long. Out of the mist, -banked thick to the north-eastward, came the -moaning that a strong wind makes when it's -rushing down on you; then from under the -mist swept out a dark riffle that broke the oily -bubble of the water and put life into it; and -then the wind got to me with a bang. There was -more of it than I had counted on having at the -first, showing that the gale behind it was a -strong one and coming down fast; but I had -the nose of my boat pointed up to meet it, and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_214" id="Page_214">[214]</a></span> -with no more than a bit of a rattle I got away -close-hauled. There was no going back to Southwold, -of course. What I was heading for was -the Pakefield Gat into the Stanford Channel, -and so to the harbour at Lowestoft; and I pretty -well knew from the first that no matter how close -I bit into the wind—and my boat was a -weatherly one—I had my work cut out for me -if I meant to keep from going to leeward of the -Pakefield Gat in the gale that was coming on.</p> - -<p>Go to leeward I did, and badly. When I -raised the coast again, and a lift of the mist -gave me my bearings, I saw that Kessingland -tower was my landfall. As to working up from -there to the Pakefield Gat—the edge of the gale -by that time being fairly on me—I knew that -it was clean impossible. I still had two chances -left—one being to cross the Barnard by the -Wreck Gat, and the other to round into Covehithe -Channel across the tail of the bank. To -the first of these the wind would help me; but -I knew that even with the wind's help it would -be ticklish work trying to squeeze through that -narrow place at the half ebb—when the strong -outset of the current would be meeting the inpour -of the storm-driven sea. It would be better, -so I settled after a minute's thinking, to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_215" id="Page_215">[215]</a></span> -pass that chance and take the other—which -would be a fairly sure one, though a close one -too. And so I wore around—with a bad wallow -in the trough of the sea that set everything to -shaking for a minute—and got on my new -course pretty well on the wind.</p> - -<p>Just as I was making ready for wearing, and -so had my hands full, I glimpsed the sail of -a boat in the mist up to windward; and when I -was come about she was abeam to leeward, showing -her high weather side to me, not twenty -yards away. Then I saw that it was John -Heath's boat, and that John was standing up -alone in her at the helm. Why the fool had -not staid safe in Lowestoft harbour, God only -knows. But it's only fair to him, again, to say -that he must have got away from Lowestoft a -good while before the wind shifted; and like -enough he would have worked down to Southwold, -and got his boat safe beached there before -trouble came, if the calm had not caught -him sooner than it did me—he being all the time -close under the land.</p> - - -<h3>VIII</h3> - -<p>Some of my rage had gone out of me in my -fight to windward in the gale's teeth; but when<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_216" id="Page_216">[216]</a></span> -I saw John close by me there it all came back to -me. For half a minute the thought was in my -head to run him down and sink him—and I had -the wind of him and could have done it. Even -in my rage, though, I could not play a coward -trick like that on him; and before I could make -any other plan up he set me in the way of one -himself.</p> - -<p>"I'm making for the Wreck Gat," he sung -out. "Give me a lead in, George—'tis better -known to thee than to me."</p> - -<p>Had I stopped to think about it, his asking -me to lead him in would have been a puzzle -to me, he being just as good a sailor as I was -and just as well knowing every twist of the -sea and the sands. But I didn't stop to think -about the queerness of what he wanted—why he -was for making things double safe by my leading -him is clear enough to me now—because my -wits were at work at something else.</p> - -<p>While the words were coming out of his -mouth—it all was in my head like a flash—I -saw my way to settling with him, and to settling -fair. He was crazy to want to try for it through -the Wreck Gat on the half tide, with the run of -the ebb meeting the onset of the breakers and -a whole gale blowing. But his being crazy<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_217" id="Page_217">[217]</a></span> -that way was his look out, not mine. I'd give -him the lead in that he wanted—asking him to -take nothing that I didn't take first myself, and -giving him a better chance than I had because -I'd be setting the course for him and he'd have -only to follow on. That either of us would pull -through would be as it might be. As to my own -chance, such as it was, I was ready for it: knowing -that I would be no worse off dead with him -than I was living with him—and a long sight -better off if I put him in the way of the drowning -that would finish him, and yet myself won -through alive.</p> - -<p>That was what got into my head like a flash -while he was hailing me, and mighty pleased I -was with it. "Follow on," I sung out. "I'll -give thee a lead." And to myself I was saying: -"Yes, a lead to hell!"</p> - -<p>"All right," he sung out back to me—and -let his boat fall off a bit that I might draw -ahead of him. As he dropped astern, and the -uptilt of his weather rail no longer hid the inside -of his boat from me, I saw that there was a -biggish bunch of something covered with a tarpaulin' -in the stern sheets close by his feet. -But I gave no thought to it: all my thought -being fixed on what was ahead of me and him<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_218" id="Page_218">[218]</a></span> -in the next half hour. I was glad that we had -to wait a little. Every minute of waiting meant -more wind, and so a bigger fight in the Wreck -Gat between the out-running current and the in-running -sea. I had a feeling in my bones that -I would pull through and that he wouldn't, and -I was keen to see the smash of him as his boat -took the sands. After that smash came, the rest -of his life could be counted in minutes and seconds—as -he floundered and drowned in that -wild tumble of sand-thickened waves. So I'd -have done with him and be quit of him; and -would have a good show—if I didn't drown -along with him—for winning Tess for my own. -If I did drown with him, or if—not being -drowned—Tess would have none of me, there -still would be this much to the good: I'd have -served him out for crossing me in my deep -heart-wish, and I'd have made certain that he -and she never could come together in this world -alive.</p> - -<p>All that I was thinking as I stood on ahead of -him, bucketing through the waves that every -minute were heavier with the churned up sand. -And I also was thinking, and I remember laughing -as the thought came to me, that there was -a sort of rightness in the way things were work<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_219" id="Page_219">[219]</a></span>ing -out with us—seeing that the ship that had -brought me my Tess, and the sea that had given -her to me, together were making the death-trap -for the man who had stolen away from me her -love.</p> - -<p>The wind was well up to a gale as we drove -on together, me leading him by a half dozen -boats' lengths, and from all along to leeward -of us came to us through the mist a sort of -a groaning roar as the breakers went banging -and grinding on the Barnard Bank. Nothing -but having the wind and the sea both with us, -when we stood in for the gat, saved us from -foundering; and yet that same also put us in -peril of it, because we had a wide open chance -of being pooped by the great following waves -which came hanging over and dragging at our -sterns.</p> - -<p>The mist thinned as we got closer in shoreward, -showing me the sand-heavy surf waiting -for its chance to scour the life out of us; but also -showing me Covehithe Ness, and Covehithe -church tower off to the left of it, and so giving -me the points that I wanted to steer by. As for -the look of the Wreck Gat, when we opened it, -the waves blustered over it so big, and were all -in such a whirl and a fury with the current meet<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_220" id="Page_220">[220]</a></span>ing -them, that only a crazy man—as I have -said—ever would have tried for it. Just about -crazy I then was, and the look of it suited me. -In that sea the narrow channel was so lashed -by the breakers running off from the sands to -windward of it that there was no sign of a cleft -anywhere. No matter how we steered, getting -through it would be just hit or miss with us—and -with all my heart and soul I hoped that it -would be hit for me and miss for John.</p> - -<p>To make in, I had to bear up a little; and -getting the wind by even that little abeam gave -my boat a send to leeward that was near to -doing for me. I was glad of it, though; because -I knew that John would get that same send -in the wake of me—and with more chance of -its finishing him, his boat being a deal less -weatherly than mine. And so—as I grazed the -sands, and after the graze went on safe again—my -heart was light with the thought that -I'd got the better of him at last.</p> - -<div class="figcenter2em" id="ME"><img src="images/illo17.jpg" width="500" -height="421" alt="" title="" /> -<div class="caption"> -"THEN I COULD USE MY EYES TO LOOK BEHIND ME" -</div></div> - -<p>There was no looking back, though, to see -what had gone with him. All my eyes were -needed for my steering. Everywhere about me -the sand-heavy water was hugely rising in a -great roar and tumble; and as for the sands -under it, and there the worst danger was, it was<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_221" id="Page_221">[221]</a></span> -just good luck or bad luck about striking them—and -that was all that you could say. Twice -I felt a jar under me as the boat went deep -in the sea-trough; but I did not strike hard -enough to hurt me, and I lifted again so quick -that I did not broach-to. And then, when I -thought that I was fairly through, and had safe -water right ahead of me, there came a bang on -the boat's side—as the sea-trough took me down -again—that near stove me: and right at the -side of me, so close that I could have touched -it as I lay for a second there in the deep wave-hollow, -was the stern-post of Tess's sand-bedded -ship rising black out of the scum and foam. -One foot farther to leeward and the jagged iron -of it would have had me past praying for. But -it did no harm to me—and as the water covered -it again I shot on beyond it into what seemed -to me, after the sea I'd hammered through, almost -a mill-pond on the lee side of the bank.</p> - -<p>Then I could use my eyes to look behind me: -and what I saw will stay fixed in them till the -copper pennies cover them and I see with them -no more.</p> - -<p>In spite of his send to leeward at the start, -John had come through after me without taking -the ground; but he had gone farther to leeward<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_222" id="Page_222">[222]</a></span> -than I had, and so was set—when smooth water -lay close ahead of him—fairly in death's way. -As I looked back I saw only the bow of his boat, -with the scrap of sail above it, riding on the -top of an oncoming wave. Then the boat tilted -forward, and came tearing down the wave-front -at a slant toward me, and I saw the whole -length of her: and what burned my eyes out -was seeing Tess there, standing brave and steady, -the two hands of her gripping fast the mast.</p> - -<p>It was not much more than a second that I had -to look at her. With a sharp sound of wood -splintering, that I heard above the noise that -the sea was making, the boat struck fair and full -on that iron set timber—and then the wave that -had sent her there was playing with the scattered -bits of her, and the sand-heavy breakers were -tumbling about the bodies of the two that she -had borne.</p> - -<p class="p2">If the sea meant to give me back my dead -Tess again, I knew where I should find her—and -there I did find her. On the shingle under -Covehithe Ness she was lying: come to me -there at the last, as she came to me there at -the first, a sea upcast. That last time she was -all mine. There was no John left living to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_223" id="Page_223">[223]</a></span> -steal her away from me. And if she was not -mine as I wanted her, at least she never was -his at all. In that far I had my will and way -over him, and for that much I am glad.</p> - -<p>And so, she being all my own, home along the -beach for the second time I carried her. It was -a wonder to me, as she lay in my arms, how light -she was—and she so tall!</p> - - -<p class="p6 center">THE END</p> - - - - - - - - -<pre> - - - - - -End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of In Great Waters, by Thomas A. 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