HARD LUCK
As the Tobins drew near the Hampton home, they heard the sound of music
accompanied by singing. They stopped at the foot of the verandah steps
and listened. The blind of the parlour window was up, and they could
see Mrs. Hampton at the piano, with John and the fair visitor standing
by her side. It was an old familiar song they were singing, and it
sounded especially sweet to the three listeners outside.
"Say, I haven't heard anything like that fer years," the captain
remarked. "It strikes me jist right. Let's stay here."
"We shall do no such thing," his wife replied. "It's not good manners."
"Isn't she pretty?" Flo whispered. "And how happy she and John seem to
be."
Mrs. Tobin made no reply, but led the way up the steps, knocked at the
door, opened it and walked in. This was her usual custom, and Mrs.
Hampton always did the same when she visited the Tobins. The music and
singing suddenly ceased as the visitors entered, and an expression of
annoyance swept for an instant over John's face as he turned and saw
Mrs. Tobin standing in the doorway.
"Excuse us for interrupting you," the latter began, "but we thought
we'd make a neighbourly call to-night since Sam'l's home. We're all
anxious to meet your company."
Mrs. Hampton had now left the piano and was advancing to meet her
neighbours. She, too, was annoyed, for she knew only too well how Mrs.
Tobin would make every effort to ferret out the secret of Miss
Randall's presence. But as they had come, she had to make the best of
it.
"It is thoughtful of you to come over," she replied. "We were enjoying
a little music. This is Miss Bean, Mrs. Tobin. I feel sure you will
be pleased to meet her."
Mrs. Tobin at once stepped forward and reached out her hand.
"Very glad I am to make your acquaintance, Miss. It's not often we see
a stranger in this place. I hope you'll come over to see us."
Jess took Mrs. Tobin's hand in hers and was about to reply, when,
happening to glance across the room, she saw the captain standing near
the door. She recognised him at once, and her face turned white, while
her body trembled. Mrs. Tobin believed that this agitation was due to
her strenuous grip, and she quickly dropped the girl's hand.
"Excuse me, Miss," she apologised. "I didn't intend to hurt you. But
when I shake hands I mean it. Now, some people just touch the tips of
your fingers as if they were afraid you'd bite. That may be the
fashionable way, but I like the good old handshake."
"I never let you shake hands with me, Mrs. Tobin," John laughingly told
her. "I know you too well."
"And I guess you should," was the retort. "You often felt my hands
when you were a boy, didn't you? I had to use them more than once,
especially when you took my apples."
"Come, come, Mrs. Tobin, you must not give me away. Let us forget the
past. I want the captain to meet Miss Bean. He looks as if he would
like to run away. Come here, sir. You were always nervous in the
presence of women, I know. But Miss Bean is perfectly harmless."
John was well aware why the captain wished to get out of the house.
Knowing Mrs. Tobin as well as he did, he felt certain that her husband
was most anxious to keep from her the story of his experience with Miss
Randall on the "Eb and Flo." It amused him, and yet he felt it was his
duty not only to the captain but to Jess as well not to divulge the
secret. He had noticed the girl's white face and trembling hands, and
surmised the cause.
The captain was indeed in a quandary. At the first glimpse of Miss
Randall he was seized with a great fear. How could he face her in the
presence of his wife? Would she recognise him, and call him by name?
If she did, then he would be at once amid serious breakers on a stormy
shore. He wanted to retreat, to get away from the house as fast as
possible. But there was no escape, for he heard John telling him to
come and meet the young woman. For a few seconds he stood as if rooted
to the floor, staring straight before him. Notwithstanding her own
agitation, Jess could hardly keep from smiling at the captain's
confusion. She felt sorry for him, so acting upon the impulse of the
instant, she crossed the room and held out her hand.
"I am very glad to meet you, Captain," she began, "You have a boat of
your very own, so I understand. You will take me for a trip on the
river some day, will you not? I have always longed for a sail in a
wood-boat."
"Sure, sure, Miss, I'll take ye," the captain replied, much delighted
at her action. "But mebbe ye'd better ask me wife. She's mighty
pertic'ler who I take sailin', 'specially when it comes to women."
"Oh, I am sure Mrs. Tobin won't mind," Jess assured. "She's too
sensible, I know. And, besides, I'm quite young."
A grim smile overspread Mrs. Tobin's face as she listened to this
conversation. She was pleased with the girl, and anxious to learn more
about her.
"I don't mind Sam'l taking you on the boat," she said, "and if you live
along the river you can go with him as well as not. But I never heard
of the Bean family before. I know about most of the people from St.
John to Fredericton."
"Miss Bean's home is in the city," John explained. "She was visiting
some friends at the quarry, and was hit on the head by a stone. I
happened to be there at the time, and so brought her home with me last
night. You heard about that other accident there, I suppose?"
"No; what accident?"
"A truck load of stone with two men on board struck a cow, which was
standing on the track. The cow was killed, and one of the men was
badly hurt."
"My, oh, my!" Mrs. Tobin exclaimed. "I never heard the like of such
things as are taking place these days. With that poor girl drowned at
Benton's wharf, another injured at the quarry, a cow killed, and a man
hurt. The world must surely be coming to an end, for the Bible says
there will be terrible things happening in the last days."
"Oh, I guess the world will wag along for some time yet," John
laughingly replied. "Wouldn't you like to hear some music, Mrs. Tobin?"
They were all seated now, the captain as near the door as possible,
that he might beat a hasty retreat should the situation become too
embarrassing. He breathed more freely when music was mentioned.
"Let's have something lively, John," he suggested. "I haven't heard a
real break-down fer a long time. Give us 'We won't go home 'til
mornin',' or something like that."
"Sam'l, Sam'l," his wife protested. "I'm surprised at you. With so
many terrible things happening around us, we should have hymns instead
of songs. I'd like to have 'Oh, Day of Wrath, that Dreadful Day.'
That's far more appropriate."
"Ugh!" the captain grunted. "That hymn 'ud give anyone the blues.
What's the use of dyin' before yer time? But if ye want to sing hymns,
let's start off with 'Here I'll Raise my Ebenezer.' It's a dandy, an'
about the only one I know. But fer pity sakes, cut out the 'Day of
Wrath.' I know too much about that already. Sometimes we have the
night of wrath as well as the day at our house, eh, Martha?"
Everybody in the room smiled except Mrs. Tobin. She was deeply
offended, and her wrath was about to descend when a distant roll of
thunder startled her. The captain chuckled as he saw its effect upon
his wife. He knew how a thunder storm always frightened her. In fact,
it was about the only thing of which she was afraid.
"Guess the Day of Wrath's comin', Martha, sooner than ye expected," he
chuckled. "Thar it is agin, an' nearer this time."
Mrs. Hampton rose and closed the window. Just at that instant a vivid
flash of lightning almost blinded her, followed immediately by a
terrific crash which shook the house. Mrs. Tobin screamed and leaped
from her chair.
"Oh, oh!" she moaned. "Isn't it awful! We'll all be killed!"
"Ah, keep still, Martha," the captain chided. "We're all right. It's
mighty lucky we have sich a comfortable place as this. Now, if we were
out on the river----"
He suddenly ceased, while an expression of consternation swept across
his face. A peculiar gurgle escaped his lips as he seized his hat and
sprang to his feet.
"The 'Eb an' Flo'!" he gasped. "I fergot all about her, an' the sail's
up! That boy'll be asleep, an' won't hear the storm. Oh, Lord!"
The next minute he was out of the house, and hurrying as fast as he
could toward the shore. He had gone but a short way when the rain
struck him, and soon he was drenched to the skin. He could only direct
his course by the flashes of lightning, and after each illumination the
darkness was more intense than ever. As he neared the shore, he
stopped and peered anxiously forward, and by the next vivid streak
which followed a terrific crash, he caught one fleeting glimpse of the
"Eb and Flo." She was still there, and her sail was down. He breathed
a sigh of relief, and again started forward toward the small boat
pulled upon the shore. He had taken but a few steps, however, when his
foot caught and twisted upon a root, causing him to fall heavily
forward full upon his face. With a cry of distress, he scrambled to
his feet, and tried to stand, but so severe was the pain that he was
forced to sink down again upon the ground. That he had wrenched his
ankle, he was certain, and he groaned whenever he moved. But he must
reach the "Eb and Flo," for the storm was increasing in violence, and
he was sure that the boat could not hold up against such a tempest. He
tried to crawl in his endeavour to reach the shore. The perspiration
stood out in beads upon his forehead as he worked himself along, but so
intense was the pain in his foot that ere long he was forced to give up
in despair. And as he lay there he kept his eyes fixed in the
direction of the river, catching brief glimpses of the "Eb and Flo" as
she tugged hard at her anchor.
A more vivid gleam than formerly presently illuminated the river, and
as the captain looked, he emitted a hoarse cry. The boat was drifting!
She was farther from the shore he could plainly tell. Then blackness
closed down once again, leaving the helpless man racked with the agony
of suspense. The next flash revealed the boat farther away, with sail
up, and to all appearance being driven full upon the opposite shore.
"Oh, Lord!" he groaned. "She's done fer now! An' it's high tide, too!
We'll never git her off them mud flats! How in time did Eben hist that
sail in sich a storm? Why, it was all that both of us could do when it
was calm."
The storm now was at its height, and so incessant was the lightning
that the captain could see nothing more of the boat so dazzling was the
illumination. The rain pelted upon him, and at times he groaned with
pain.
"Guess I'll have to spend the night here," he muttered. "This is the
worst fix I ever got into. Wish to goodness I could git some word to
Martha. But she'll think I'm on board that boat by this time. I
wonder what she'd say if she knew I was layin' here, helpless as a log.
But, then, it might be worse. I'm alive, me leg ain't broke, an' the
lightnin' hasn't hit me. I've got much to be thankful fer yet, even
though the 'Eb an' Flo' does go on the flats. Old Parson Westmore used
to say that when things got black always count yer blessin's, an' ye'll
be surprised to find how many ye really have left. So cheer up, Sam'l
Tobin, it'll take more'n a thunder storm an' a sprained ankle to knock
ye out, blamed if it won't."
Under the inspiration of this resolve, he began to hum his favourite
tune. It made him feel better, and soon he was singing at the top of
his voice:
"Here I'll raise my Ebenezer,
Hither by Thy grace I'll come,
And I trust in Thy good pleasure,
Safely to arrive at home."
"My, them's great words!" he ejaculated, when he had finished.
"They've put new life into me already. Guess I'll sing 'em over agin.
There's nuthin' like a song in the night fer a sprained ankle."
As he lay there the storm gradually beat itself out, and rolled away in
the distance. From where he was lying he could look up at his own
house. Often he had turned his eyes in that direction, hoping to see a
light in the window. But not the faintest gleam appeared to cheer his
loneliness, so he knew that Martha and Flo must have remained at the
Hamptons. No doubt they would go home when the storm ceased. After
what seemed to him hours, he was rewarded by the sight of a light
flickering among the trees. It was a lantern, he was certain, and he
knew that John must be showing the visitors home. He watched it
longingly as it neared the house. Could he make himself heard? Rising
with difficulty to his knees, he lifted up his voice in several loud
calls for help. Then he watched, while his heart beat fast within him.
Again he called, and the light suddenly stopped. This was encouraging,
so with a great effort he gave one more mighty whoop, ere he sank back
exhausted upon the ground.