CHAPTER XXII. THE YANKEE STORM
In an August orchard six children and a grown-up were sitting around thepulpit stone. The grown-up was Miss Reade, who had been up to give thegirls their music lesson and had consented to stay to tea, much to therapture of the said girls, who continued to worship her with unabatedand romantic ardour. To us, over the golden grasses, came the StoryGirl, carrying in her hand a single large poppy, like a blood-redchalice filled with the wine of August wizardry. She proffered it toMiss Reade and, as the latter took it into her singularly slender,beautiful hand, I saw a ring on her third finger. I noticed it, becauseI had heard the girls say that Miss Reade never wore rings, not likingthem. It was not a new ring; it was handsome, but of an old-fashioneddesign and setting, with a glint of diamonds about a central sapphire.Later on, when Miss Reade had gone, I asked the Story Girl if she hadnoticed the ring. She nodded, but seemed disinclined to say more aboutit.
"Look here, Sara," I said, "there's something about that ring--somethingyou know."
"I told you once there was a story growing but you would have to waituntil it was fully grown," she answered.
"Is Miss Reade going to marry anybody--anybody we know?" I persisted.
"Curiosity killed a cat," observed the Story Girl coolly. "Miss Readehasn't told me that she was going to marry anybody. You will find outall that is good for you to know in due time."
When the Story Girl put on grown-up airs I did not like her so well, andI dropped the subject with a dignity that seemed to amuse her mightily.
She had been away for a week, visiting cousins in Markdale, and she hadcome home with a new treasure-trove of stories, most of which she hadheard from the old sailors of Markdale Harbour. She had promised thatmorning to tell us of "the most tragic event that had ever been known onthe north shore," and we now reminded her of her promise.
"Some call it the 'Yankee Storm,' and others the 'American Gale,'" shebegan, sitting down by Miss Reade and beaming, because the latterput her arm around her waist. "It happened nearly forty years ago, inOctober of 1851. Old Mr. Coles at the Harbour told me all about it. Hewas a young man then and he says he can never forget that dreadful time.You know in those days hundreds of American fishing schooners used tocome down to the Gulf every summer to fish mackerel. On one beautifulSaturday night in this October of 1851, more than one hundred of thesevessels could be counted from Markdale Capes. By Monday night more thanseventy of them had been destroyed. Those which had escaped were mostlythose which went into harbour Saturday night, to keep Sunday. Mr. Colessays the rest stayed outside and fished all day Sunday, same as throughthe week, and HE says the storm was a judgment on them for doing it. Buthe admits that even some of them got into harbour later on and escaped,so it's hard to know what to think. But it is certain that on Sundaynight there came up a sudden and terrible storm--the worst, Mr. Colessays, that has ever been known on the north shore. It lasted for twodays and scores of vessels were driven ashore and completely wrecked.The crews of most of the vessels that went ashore on the sand beacheswere saved, but those that struck on the rocks went to pieces and allhands were lost. For weeks after the storm the north shore was strewnwith the bodies of drowned men. Think of it! Many of them were unknownand unrecognizable, and they were buried in Markdale graveyard. Mr.Coles says the schoolmaster who was in Markdale then wrote a poem on thestorm and Mr. Coles recited the first two verses to me.
"'Here are the fishers' hillside graves, The church beside, the woods around, Below, the hollow moaning waves Where the poor fishermen were drowned.
"'A sudden tempest the blue welkin tore, The seamen tossed and torn apart Rolled with the seaweed to the shore While landsmen gazed with aching heart.'
"Mr. Coles couldn't remember any more of it. But the saddest of all thestories of the Yankee Storm was the one about the Franklin Dexter.The Franklin Dexter went ashore on the Markdale Capes and all on boardperished, the Captain and three of his brothers among them. These fouryoung men were the sons of an old man who lived in Portland, Maine, andwhen he heard what had happened he came right down to the Island to seeif he could find their bodies. They had all come ashore and had beenburied in Markdale graveyard; but he was determined to take them up andcarry them home for burial. He said he had promised their mother to takeher boys home to her and he must do it. So they were taken up and puton board a sailing vessel at Markdale Harbour to be taken back to Maine,while the father himself went home on a passenger steamer. The name ofthe sailing vessel was the Seth Hall, and the captain's name was SethHall, too. Captain Hall was a dreadfully profane man and used to swearblood-curdling oaths. On the night he sailed out of Markdale Harbour theold sailors warned him that a storm was brewing and that it would catchhim if he did not wait until it was over. The captain had become veryimpatient because of several delays he had already met with, and he wasin a furious temper. He swore a wicked oath that he would sail out ofMarkdale Harbour that night and 'God Almighty Himself shouldn't catchhim.' He did sail out of the harbour; and the storm did catch him, andthe Seth Hall went down with all hands, the dead and the living findinga watery grave together. So the poor old mother up in Maine never hadher boys brought back to her after all. Mr. Coles says it seems as if itwere foreordained that they should not rest in a grave, but should liebeneath the waves until the day when the sea gives up its dead."
"'They sleep as well beneath that purple tide As others under turf,'"
quoted Miss Reade softly. "I am very thankful," she added, "that I amnot one of those whose dear ones 'go down to the sea in ships.' It seemsto me that they have treble their share of this world's heartache."
"Uncle Stephen was a sailor and he was drowned," said Felicity, "andthey say it broke Grandmother King's heart. I don't see why people can'tbe contented on dry land."
Cecily's tears had been dropping on the autograph quilt square she wasfaithfully embroidering. She had been diligently collecting names for itever since the preceding autumn and had a goodly number; but Kitty Marrhad one more and this was certainly a fly in Cecily's ointment.
"Besides, one I've got isn't paid for--Peg Bowen's," she lamented, "andI don't suppose it ever will be, for I'll never dare to ask her for it."
"I wouldn't put it on at all," said Felicity.
"Oh, I don't dare not to. She'd be sure to find out I didn't and thenshe'd be very angry. I wish I could get just one more name and then I'dbe contented. But I don't know of a single person who hasn't been askedalready."
"Except Mr. Campbell," said Dan.
"Oh, of course nobody would ask Mr. Campbell. We all know it would beof no use. He doesn't believe in missions at all--in fact, he says hedetests the very mention of missions--and he never gives one cent tothem."
"All the same, I think he ought to be asked, so that he wouldn't havethe excuse that nobody DID ask him," declared Dan.
"Do you really think so, Dan?" asked Cecily earnestly.
"Sure," said Dan, solemnly. Dan liked to tease even Cecily a wee bit nowand then.
Cecily relapsed into anxious thought, and care sat visibly on her browfor the rest of the day. Next morning she came to me and said:
"Bev, would you like to go for a walk with me this afternoon?"
"Of course," I replied. "Any particular where?"
"I'm going to see Mr. Campbell and ask him for his name for my square,"said Cecily resolutely. "I don't suppose it will do any good. Hewouldn't give anything to the library last summer, you remember, tillthe Story Girl told him that story about his grandmother. She won'tgo with me this time--I don't know why. I can't tell a story and I'mfrightened to death just to think of going to him. But I believe it ismy duty; and besides I would love to get as many names on my squareas Kitty Marr has. So if you'll go with me we'll go this afternoon. Isimply COULDN'T go alone."