"THE CLOUDS YE SO MUCH DREAD"
Only Miss Phosie was at home, but she gave a smiling welcome to her
guest. "I see Ora has come back," said Gwen by way of opening the
conversation.
"Yes, she wanted to see Cap'n Hooper's vessel off, I s'pose. Anyway she
wasn't content to stay any longer."
"And Manny has really gone."
Miss Phosie nodded. "I'm happy to say he has. Maybe Ora'll take an
interest in something and somebody else, now. I was hoping she'd feel
inclined to stay at Bangor with her cousins, but here she was back at
the end of a week, and all the difference I can see is, she's got a
bigger lot of hair piled up over her forehead and a gayer hat."
Gwen smiled. She knew Miss Phosie must be more than usually ruffled to
criticize in such a manner. "Perhaps if she were to go away to school
she might forget about the boys here. She is too young to have her head
full of such things." Gwen spoke as one of vast experience.
"That's what I told her grandpap," returned Miss Phosie, "but he can't
bear to think of her going away for as long as a whole winter. She's
his only grandchild, and he does set such store by her. Won't you come
into the settin'-room, Miss Whitridge, where sister is?"
"If you don't mind my staying here, I'd rather sit with you."
Miss Phosie looked pleased. "Well, that'll be nice," she said. "Two of
our boarders has left, and there ain't quite so much to do. The others
will be going before long, too, and then we can settle down to the old
ways."
"Dear me, when you talk about boarders leaving it makes me feel as if
the summer were nearly over," returned Gwen.
"But you cal'late to stay pretty late, don't you?"
"As late in October as we dare. I must be back by the twentieth."
"Then I hope we shall see more of you," replied Miss Phosie politely.
"Mr. Williams was saying the other day that after the boarders go we
always take more comfort in the cottagers. Them that come and go just
for one season you never feel much acquainted with, but with them that
owns property it's different. They belong here."
"We certainly feel as if we did," Gwen assured her. "I love every inch
of the island."
"That's what Mr. Williams says, and I guess that's why you and him are
such friends. He's real fond of it."
"Where is he to-day?"
"He's gone off in his boat alone. He likes to do that once in a while
and nobody asks him why or wherefore."
"You are very good to him, Miss Phosie. I think it is wonderful that he
should have found such a home here, when he just drifted in, absolutely
unknown, and seems to belong to no one."
"We cal'late he's been long enough in this house to belong to us," said
Miss Phosie a little defiantly.
"Indeed I am sure he feels so. He has often told me that no sister
could do more than you for him. I know what it must mean to him for I
have very few relatives myself."
"That so?"
"Aunt Cam is my nearest and dearest. I have some distant cousins, but
that is all. I feel almost as if Mr. Williams were a relative. He has
been so kind to us."
"That's his way, though I must say you are the first of the newcomers
that he's taken any fancy to. He don't make much fuss about what he
does, but little things count, Miss Whitridge."
"They surely do. Did he look just as he does now when he first came
here, Miss Phosie?"
"Just about. He always wore his beard that way, close-cropped, and a
short mustache. He must have been considerable over thirty when he
came."
"And he just appeared that way, suddenly?"
Miss Phosie nodded. "Came over on a sailing vessel from the Neck. There
wasn't any steamboat then. Said he'd like a few days' fishing. Had a
grip-sack, but no other baggage. Father took him out, and liked him
from the first, though he was always very quiet and reserved. Never had
any family photographs about or nothing of that kind, just a little old
Bible with his initials on the back. I've looked at it," Miss Phosie
confessed, "but there's nothing on the inside page, but 'To my little
son from Mother.' We've never tried to pry into his affairs. We didn't
feel it would be friendly. He's a nice good man, father says, and
that's all we want to know."
Gwen felt herself properly reproved, and concluded it would be better
to change the subject. "How dark it is getting," she remarked, "and I
do believe that is thunder." She arose and went to the window. Great
masses of heavy clouds were overspreading the sky. The sea was inky
black, though along the horizon shone a line of silver. "Dear me,"
exclaimed the girl, "there is a gust coming up, or, I should say, it
has arrived," for, as she spoke, the rain began to fall in big drops,
and a strong wind sent chips and leaves scudding across the grass.
"Land sakes! so it has," returned Miss Phosie, "and Mr. Williams is out
in it. I hope he won't attempt to cross."
"I am afraid Ethel and Mr. Mitchell are out in it, too."
"You don't say! When did they go?"
"They started for Jagged Island this morning. They rowed over. There
are--others out, too. Oh, I do hope they are all safe." A heavy peal
of thunder startled them, and vivid lightning cleaved the dense clouds
overhanging the island.
Ora, pale and frightened, rushed into the kitchen. "Oh, Aunt Phosie,"
she cried, "it's a dreadful storm, and the Mary Lizzie is out in it."
She burst into tears.
"There, child, there," said Miss Phosie soothingly. "Don't you be a
mite afraid about the Mary Lizzie. Her cap'n's weathered more than one
gale. It's the little boats that's in danger, not the big ones. Here's
Miss Whitridge has friends out, and she's not crying. You an island
girl, too."
"There's no one she loves that's in danger," sobbed Ora.
Gwen shuddered, and kept her eyes fixed upon the storm-swept sky. It
was a marvellously grand one. The centre of the storm seemed directly
overhead, where lightnings flashed and thunders rolled from clouds
of intense blackness. These grew in gradation of tone less and less
dense toward the edges where they dropped a wonderful fringe over
the brilliant silver which bordered the visible circle of the earth.
Upon the jagged sides of the dark and forbidding rocks leaped angry,
white-capped waves which rushed in from a sea as black as the sky,
only farther out within the line of dazzling silver shone fair green
islands, brilliant as emeralds upon the gleaming band.
"I must go out, and get a better view of it," said Gwen catching up her
cape.
"But it hasn't stopped raining," Miss Phosie warned her.
"It isn't pouring so hard, and it is such a marvellous sight. I don't
care if I do get wet. Besides, perhaps I can see if my friends are out."
"They'd have a pretty hard time in a little boat, in such weather,"
said Miss Phosie, and Ora began to cry again. She turned her wet eyes
upon Gwen.
"May I go with you?" she asked meekly.
"Why, certainly," responded Gwen cordially. And in spite of Miss
Phosie's protestations they fared forth, across the wet grass, and on
to the rocks. The storm was passing over, and more gems of islands were
visible. The bordering band of silver widened. The black fringe swept
further and further across the land, and presently the sun broke forth,
though the angry waves still buffeted the passive rocks.
The two girls said not a word till they stood side by side on the
cliff, then Ora's eyes sought the distant horizon, while Gwen turned
her gaze northward. There was not a sail, not a dot, indicating a boat
upon the ruffled surface of the water.
"I hope, I hope everyone is safe," said Gwen breaking the silence. "It
was such a sudden sharp storm, but it was soon over. It seems to be
passing to the north. I don't believe it has gone out to sea at all,
Ora, and the Mary Lizzie is probably away beyond it."
"It's dreadful to be so frightened," responded Ora faintly. "I was
always afraid of thunder-storms, and when you have friends out you are
more afraid than ever."
"Yes, you are; I realize that." Gwen took Ora's hand and held it in a
warm clasp under the shelter of her cloak.
"They don't understand," said Ora responding to this sympathy. "Nobody
knows what I feel, for I sent him. I wanted him to go so as to show
everybody there was something in him."
Gwen gave the hand a little squeeze. "I can understand, Ora," she said.
"I know just how you feel. It is dreadful to say things that send a
friend away from you. I have done it, and I know."
Ora, in turn, gave the fingers that held hers a little pressure. The
child in her distress felt the need of a confidant. She wanted sympathy
and advice from some one young like herself, but some one whose
experience had given her judgment.
"Do you think," Gwen went on, still looking northward, "that anyone
would be liable to get so far out before the storm came up, that he
couldn't make a harbor?"
"He might," returned Ora doubtfully.
"But even if he were swamped, the boat would float, and the oars; he
could save himself."
"If he could swim, or he might even hold on and float, only there are
these cruel rocks."
"Ah me!" Gwen groaned. "Suppose he--they did start out, and could not
get back. I should never forgive myself."
"For what, Miss Gwen? Did you persuade them to go? Is it Mr. Mitchell
and Miss Fuller you mean?"
"Of course," replied Gwen hastily. "I suppose there is no use standing
here watching, and anyone starting now would be quite safe, though it
would be hard pulling. Ah, there's Mr. Williams! One at least of our
friends is safe. That argues well for the others."
Luther Williams in his sou'wester came up to them. "Miss Phosie told me
I should find you here," he said.
Gwen held out both hands. "I am so glad you are safe," she cried. "Were
you caught in the storm?"
"I was nearly home," he told her, "just coming into the cove, so I put
in there by Jo Thompson's, took shelter in his house, and walked home
from there."
"I hope every one else is as well off. Mr. Mitchell and Miss Fuller
started for Jagged Island this morning. They haven't come back, and I
see no signs of them."
"They're waiting for the sea to smooth down, I suppose. It will after
a while. It was a sharp blow while it lasted, but the wind is back in
the same old quarter, and they'll probably be coming along pretty soon.
Cap'n Ben's boat is out," he added abruptly.
"I know it, oh, I know it," Gwen whispered. "Dear Daddy Lu, can't you
do something?"
He patted her shoulder encouragingly. "I'll go up along, and see what
can be discovered. I shouldn't be surprised if he had put into Water
Cove, if he left Dorr's at all. He was going there sketching to-day,
and thought it would be handier to take his traps in a boat than to lug
them."
Gwen drew a sigh of relief. "It is a good thing to have met you. Have
you seen him lately?"
"Last evening."
"He seemed well?" The question was asked wistfully.
"Yes." It was not like Mr. Williams to do more than give the laconic
reply.
"Ora has been worrying, too," Gwen said in a low voice.
"She has no reason to."
"You are sure the storm went around."
"Yes, though they may get it out at sea later on."
"I will tell her you said there was no cause for worry." She turned to
the girl who stood a little way off. "They are getting the storm over
Bath way, Ora," she said. "We needn't be alarmed."
Ora turned a brighter face toward the girl. "I've been watching it,"
she said. "I'm going to see Almira now. She must be lonely to-day." And
without further word she walked away.
Gold green were the islands now, sparkling were the dancing waves,
though over the arm of the mainland there still hung a pall of clouds,
and once in awhile there was a rumble of distant thunder. "It has been
a wonderful storm," Gwen told Mr. Williams, "and if no one is the worse
for it I shall be glad of its having come, for it gave us a scene I can
never forget; those great masses of inky clouds dropping fringes all
along their edges, and those brilliant, sun-touched islands in a silver
rim of sea, beyond the gloomy spaces. It seems almost like a prophecy,
Daddy Lu, as if one might say to one's self, no matter how dark and
terrible the present seems, there is sunlight beyond, sunlight that
will spread and spread till you stand in its glory, as you and I are
doing this minute."
His rare smile lighted up his face. "That is the way to talk," he said.
"Some may be wrecked in the gale, but the same storm brings great good
to others."
"Oh, don't say that. I don't like to think of wrecks, wrecked vessels
or wrecked lives."
"Even wrecked lives may not be lost ones. Sometimes a person may buffet
with the seas for a while and then find a harborage. After the storm
has passed sunlight may reach him, too."
"That's better. I feel more content with that view of it. Are you going
down along, and will you let me know if anything has happened?"
"I will let you know in any event, if you like."
"That's the dear man you always are. I think I'd better go home now to
Aunt Cam. She will be getting anxious about me, and I must find out if
the rain has been leaking in at that south window."
"Very well. As the Spanish say, Hasta luego."
"That's a sort of 'auf wiedersehen,' I suppose."
"About the same."
They parted and Gwen sprang over the soppy ground, reaching Wits' End
to find her aunt and Lizzie busy with cloths mopping up the floor under
a window in the living-room, through which the rain had leaked. They
had placed basins and buckets to catch the drip, but in spite of all
the floor had not escaped a puddle. "The hogshead is full and we have
caught a lot more water in the boiler and the tubs, so we are well
supplied," said Miss Elliott as Gwen entered.
"Good," cried Gwen. The value of rain water was not to be
under-estimated.
"Where have you been?" asked her aunt. "I hope you were under shelter
during that downpour."
"I was in Miss Phosie's kitchen at first," Gwen told her, "but it was
so glorious I had to go down to the rocks to watch it all."
"And in consequence no doubt your feet are sopping wet. I'll have a
fire made in the fireplace at once."
"No, please don't. The sun is shining hot on the back porch. I'll
change my shoes and wet skirt and sit out there."
"You'd better have a fire," persisted Miss Elliott, and had her way,
for, as Gwen said, "When Aunt Cam really determines to do a thing she
manages to carry her point. That is why she was such a success in
China. If she said a patient must swallow a pill he had to do it."
And therefore it was sitting by the open fire that Luther Williams
found the two a little later on. As he stood in the doorway in his
fisherman's garb, flannel shirt, trousers tucked into high boots, Miss
Elliott found no suggestion of that elusive likeness which had puzzled
her more than once. She welcomed him cordially. "Come right in, Mr.
Williams," she said. "What is the news?"
"I've come to report no wrecks so far as discovered," he told her.
"Your niece was afraid the storm might have done some serious damage
about here, but so far as we know all are safe. I looked off toward
Jagged Island just before I started, Miss Gwen, and I think your
friends are on their way. The sea has calmed down and they'll have no
trouble getting in."
"Ethel and Mr. Mitchell, Aunt Cam," Gwen explained. "They happened to
choose this of all days to go over, and I am afraid they were drenched."
"There's a house over there, you know," volunteered Mr. Williams, "and
it's probable they took shelter there."
"No doubt they are safe then," returned Gwen, "and--and Cap'n Ben's
boat, Mr. Williams?"
"That's in too. The man who had it to-day had started, but he saw the
storm coming, and turned back in time. He waited till the storm was
over before he made a second venture, then he came only so far as the
upper end of the island where he left his boat and some of his traps
and footed it home."
Gwen was grateful for the generalization of the boat's occupant, but
she could not resist asking, "Did you see the storm-tossed mariner, Mr.
Williams?"
"No, but Cap'n Ben did, and he told me, so it's reliable information."
"Thank you, Daddy Lu," said Gwen with a flashing smile which was
answered by as bright a one.
Miss Elliott looked from one to the other. "There!" she exclaimed
suddenly, "I know who Mr. Williams reminds me of, Gwen. It is your
grandfather Whitridge. Do you happen to have any relatives of that
name, Mr. Williams?"
"Yes," he said after a pause, "I have some distant ones. My own people
are all dead, but I believe there were some of the Whitridge line alive
when I last heard."
"And you never told me you had relatives of my name," said Gwen
reproachfully. "Why, we might be kin ourselves."
"Do you chance to have any relatives by the name of Williams?" asked
the man steadily. He turned to Miss Elliott.
"No, not that I know of," she answered. "The connection is not on
my side of the house, you see. It was my sister, Gwen's mother, who
married a Whitridge. Those family likenesses are very puzzling," she
went on. "They crop up in the most surprising manner. You have what I
should call the Whitridge smile, and Gwen has the same."
"I am glad it is anything as pleasant as a smile," returned Mr.
Williams. "You say I resemble your niece's grandfather. Is the
gentleman still living?"
"Now, Daddy Lu, you know I told you I hadn't anyone but Aunt Cam," Gwen
again spoke reproachfully. "If I had a grandfather I would surely claim
him."
"I beg your pardon," he said. "Sometimes families become separated.
He might be living in some distant place, you know. Did your father
resemble him?"
"Did he?" Gwen turned to her aunt.
"I never saw Gwen's father after he was grown," said Miss Elliott. "I
knew him only by repute, and by a photograph taken when he was first
married."
"He was a noble man," said Gwen proudly. "Wasn't he, Aunt Cam?"
"Yes, very noble," she returned, but she spoke sadly.
"He gave his life for another," Gwen put in eagerly.
Mr. Williams, standing rigidly upon the hearth, did not reply, but
looked fixedly in the fire.
"Don't you think that the noblest thing a man can do?" continued Gwen.
"There is more than one way of giving a life, too," remarked Miss
Elliott, as if speaking to herself. "Sometimes one lays down his life
and the world does not know it. He does not have to die to do that."
Gwen looked at her in surprise. "What are you saying, Aunt Cam? One
doesn't have to die? What do you mean? But my father did die for
another, Mr. Williams. What do you mean, Aunt Cam?"
"Are there no deaths then but the giving up of one's last breath?"
inquired Miss Elliott. "Haven't you heard the expression, 'dead to the
world'? There was a man out in China who certainly laid down his life.
He is still upon this planet, but he has sacrificed everything, home,
love, all that was dear to him for the sake of others."
Gwen knew who this was. Had she not seen the little picture, her aunt
treasured, of a young ascetic with burning eyes and a firm mouth? "Oh!"
she said and looked satisfied at the explanation, as did the man who
turned his eyes from the fire to the woman and, to Gwen's surprise,
looked an intelligent sympathy.