CHAPTER V. POMONA PRODUCES A PARTIAL REVOLUTION IN RUDDER GRANGE.
Euphemia began to take a great deal of comfort in her girl. Everyevening she had some new instance to relate of Pomona's inventiveabilities and aptness in adapting herself to the peculiarities of ourmethod of housekeeping.
"Only to think!" said she, one afternoon, "Pomona has just done anotherVERY smart thing. You know what a trouble it has always been for usto carry all our waste water upstairs, and throw it over the bulwarks.Well, she has remedied all that. She has cut a nice little low windowin the side of the kitchen, and has made a shutter of the piece she cutout, with leather hinges to it, and now she can just open this window,throw the water out, shut it again, and there it is! I tell you she'ssmart."
"Yes; there is no doubt of that," I said; "but I think that there isdanger of her taking more interest in such extraordinary and novelduties than in the regular work of the house."
"Now, don't discourage the girl, my dear," she said, "for she is of thegreatest use to me, and I don't want you to be throwing cold water aboutlike some people."
"Not even if I throw it out of Pomona's little door, I suppose."
"No. Don't throw it at all. Encourage people. What would the world beif everybody chilled our aspirations and extraordinary efforts? LikeFulton's steamboat."
"All right," I said; "I'll not discourage her."
It was now getting late in the season. It was quite too cool to sit outon deck in the evening, and our garden began to look desolate.
Our boarder had wheeled up a lot of fresh earth, and had prepared alarge bed, in which he had planted turnips. They made an excellent fallcrop, he assured us.
From being simply cool it began to be rainy, and the weather grewdecidedly unpleasant. But our boarder bade us take courage. This wasprobably the "equinoctial," and when it was over there would be adelightful Indian summer, and the turnips would grow nicely.
This sounded very well, but the wind blew up cold at night, and therewas a great deal of unpleasant rain.
One night it blew what Pomona called a "whirlicane," and we went tobed very early to keep warm. We heard our boarder on deck in the gardenafter we were in bed, and Euphemia said she could not imagine what hewas about, unless he was anchoring his turnips to keep them from blowingaway.
During the night I had a dream. I thought I was a boy again, and wastrying to stand upon my head, a feat for which I had been famous. Butinstead of throwing myself forward on my hands, and then raising myheels backward over my head, in the orthodox manner, I was on my back,and trying to get on my head from that position. I awoke suddenly, andfound that the footboard of the bedstead was much higher than our heads.We were lying on a very much inclined plane, with our heads downward.I roused Euphemia, and we both got out of bed, when, at almost the samemoment, we slipped down the floor into ever so much water.
Euphemia was scarcely awake, and she fell down gurgling. It was dark,but I heard her fall, and I jumped over the bedstead to her assistance.I had scarcely raised her up, when I heard a pounding at the front dooror main-hatchway, and our boarder shouted:
"Get up! Come out of that! Open the door! The old boat's turning over!"
My heart fell within me, but I clutched Euphemia. I said no word, andshe simply screamed. I dragged her over the floor, sometimes in thewater and sometimes out of it. I got the dining-room door open and sether on the stairs. They were in a topsy-turvy condition, but they weredry. I found a lantern which hung on a nail, with a match-box underit, and I struck a light. Then I scrambled back and brought her someclothes.
All this time the boarder was yelling and pounding at the door. WhenEuphemia was ready I opened the door and took her out.
"You go dress yourself;" said the boarder. "I'll hold her here until youcome back."
I left her and found my clothes (which, chair and all, had tumbledagainst the foot of the bed and so had not gone into the water), andsoon reappeared on deck. The wind was blowing strongly, but it did notnow seem to be very cold. The deck reminded me of the gang-plank of aHarlem steamboat at low tide. It was inclined at an angle of more thanforty-five degrees, I am sure. There was light enough for us to seeabout us, but the scene and all the dreadful circumstances made me feelthe most intense desire to wake up and find it all a dream. There was nodoubt, however, about the boarder being wide awake.
"Now then," said he, "take hold of her on that side and we'll help herover here. You scramble down on that side; it's all dry just there. Theboat's turned over toward the water, and I'll lower her down to you.I'll let a rope over the sides. You can hold on to that as you go down."
I got over the bulwarks and let myself down to the ground. Then theboarder got Euphemia up and slipped her over the side, holding to herhands, and letting her gently down until I could reach her. She saidnever a word, but screamed at times. I carried her a little way up theshore and set her down. I wanted to take her up to a house near by,where we bought our milk, but she declined to go until we had savedPomona.
So I went back to the boat, having carefully wrapped up Euphemia, toendeavor to save the girl. I found that the boarder had so arrangedthe gang-plank that it was possible, without a very great exercise ofagility, to pass from the shore to the boat. When I first saw him,on reaching the shelving deck, he was staggering up the stairs with adining-room chair and a large framed engraving of Raphael's Dante--anugly picture, but full of true feeling; at least so Euphemia alwaysdeclared, though I am not quite sure that I know what she meant.
"Where is Pomona?" I said, endeavoring to stand on the hill-side of thedeck.
"I don't know," said he, "but we must get the things out. The tide'srising and the wind's getting up. The boat will go over before we knowit."
"But we must find the girl," I said. "She can't be left to drown."
"I don't think it would matter much," said he, getting over the sideof the boat with his awkward load. "She would be of about as much usedrowned as any other way. If it hadn't been for that hole she cut in theside of the boat, this would never have happened."
"You don't think it was that!" I said, holding the picture and the chairwhile he let himself down to the gang-plank.
"Yes, it was," he replied. "The tide's very high, and the water got overthat hole and rushed in. The water and the wind will finish this oldcraft before very long."
And then he took his load from me and dashed down the gang-plank. I wentbelow to look for Pomona. The lantern still hung on the nail, and I tookit down and went into the kitchen. There was Pomona, dressed, and withher hat on, quietly packing some things in a basket.
"Come, hurry out of this," I cried. "Don't you know that thishouse--this boat, I mean, is a wreck?"
"Yes, sma'am--sir, I mean--I know it, and I suppose we shall soon be atthe mercy of the waves."
"Well, then, go as quickly as you can. What are you putting in thatbasket?"
"Food," she said. "We may need it."
I took her by the shoulder and hurried her on deck, over the bulwark,down the gang-plank, and so on to the place where I had left Euphemia.
I found the dear girl there, quiet and collected, all up in a littlebunch, to shield herself from the wind. I wasted no time, but hurriedthe two women over to the house of our milk-merchant. There, with somedifficulty, I roused the good woman, and after seeing Euphemia andPomona safely in the house, I left them to tell the tale, and ran backto the boat.
The boarder was working like a Trojan. He had already a pile of ourfurniture on the beach.
I set about helping him, and for an hour we labored at this hasty andtoilsome moving. It was indeed a toilsome business. The floors wereshelving, the stairs leaned over sideways, ever so far, and thegang-plank was desperately short and steep.
Still, we saved quite a number of household articles. Some things webroke and some we forgot, and some things were too big to move in thisway; but we did very well, considering the circumstances.
The wind roared, the tide rose, and the boat groaned and
creaked. Wewere in the kitchen, trying to take the stove apart (the boarder wassure we could carry it up, if we could get the pipe out and the legs anddoors off), when we heard a crash. We rushed on deck and found thatthe garden had fallen in! Making our way as well as we could toward thegaping rent in the deck, we saw that the turnip-bed had gone down bodilyinto the boarder's room. He did not hesitate, but scrambled down hisnarrow stairs. I followed him. He struck a match that he had in hispocket, and lighted a little lantern that hung under the stairs. Hisroom was a perfect rubbish heap. The floor, bed, chairs, pitcher,basin--everything was covered or filled with garden mold and turnips.Never did I behold such a scene. He stood in the midst of it, holdinghis lantern high above his head. At length he spoke.
"If we had time," he said, "we might come down here and pick out a lotof turnips."
"But how about your furniture?" I exclaimed.
"Oh, that's ruined!" he replied.
So we did not attempt to save any of it, but we got hold of his trunkand carried that on shore.
When we returned, we found that the water was pouring through hispartition, making the room a lake of mud. And, as the water was risingrapidly below, and the boat was keeling over more and more, we thoughtit was time to leave, and we left.
It would not do to go far away from our possessions, which were piled upin a sad-looking heap on the shore; and so, after I had gone over to themilk-woman's to assure Euphemia of our safety, the boarder and I passedthe rest of the night--there was not much of it left--in walking upand down the beach smoking some cigars which he fortunately had in hispocket.
In the morning I took Euphemia to the hotel, about a mile away--andarranged for the storage of our furniture there, until we could findanother habitation. This habitation, we determined, was to be in asubstantial house, or part of a house, which should not be affected bythe tides.
During the morning the removal of our effects was successfullyaccomplished, and our boarder went to town to look for a furnished room.He had nothing but his trunk to take to it.
In the afternoon I left Euphemia at the hotel, where she was taking anap (she certainly needed it, for she had spent the night in a woodenrocking-chair at the milk-woman's), and I strolled down to the river totake a last look at the remains of old Rudder Grange.
I felt sadly enough as I walked along the well-worn path to thecanal-boat, and thought how it had been worn by my feet more than anyother's, and how gladly I had walked that way, so often during thatdelightful summer. I forgot all that had been disagreeable, and thoughtonly of the happy times we had had.
It was a beautiful autumn afternoon, and the wind had entirely diedaway. When I came within sight of our old home, it presented a dolefulappearance. The bow had drifted out into the river, and was almostentirely under water. The stern stuck up in a mournful and ridiculousmanner, with its keel, instead of its broadside, presented to the viewof persons on the shore. As I neared the boat I heard a voice. I stoppedand listened. There was no one in sight. Could the sounds come from theboat? I concluded that it must be so, and I walked up closer. Then Iheard distinctly the words:
"He grasp ed her by the thro at and yell ed, swear to me thou nev erwilt re veal my se cret, or thy hot heart's blood shall stain this marbel fib or; she gave one gry vy ous gasp and--"
It was Pomona!
Doubtless she had climbed up the stern of the boat and had descendedinto the depths of the wreck to rescue her beloved book, the reading ofwhich had so long been interrupted by my harsh decrees. Could I breakin on this one hour of rapture? I had not the heart to do it, and asI slowly moved away, there came to me the last words that I ever heardfrom Rudder Grange:
"And with one wild shry ik to heav en her heart's blo od spat ter edthat prynce ly home of woe--"