THE WATER-WITCH
We have a deeper sense of proprietorship in a thing we have earned by
hard labor or gained by the exercise of our abilities than in that
which has been given to us, has cost us nothing.
As Emily, walking close by Barry's side, giving him such assistance
as was possible, looked with mingled pity and anxiety upon the white
face of the man hanging limply back over the arms of the sailor,
she was conscious that in her soul had arisen a new and curious sense
of ownership in humanity,--the most satisfactory, yet disappointing, of
our possessions. A strange and indefinable feeling surged in her breast
as she thought hurriedly of the situation. A budding relationship--the
deep relationship of services rendered, in fact--attached her
inevitably to this stranger--if he were yet alive.
She flushed at the feeling, as if her privacy had been invaded, as she
gazed upon him. Her thoughts ran riot in her bosom, her soul turning
toward him, helpless, unconscious, water dripping from his torn,
sodden clothing. Perhaps he was dead or dying. The thought gave her a
sudden constriction of the heart. That would be untoward fate surely.
It could not be.
She had saved him. The weak woman had been strong. Her heart leaped
exultingly at that. He was hers by the divine right of service. The
strange relationship had suddenly become a fact to her. Her arm still
ached with the strain of holding him, yet she was glad of the pain. It
was the inward and spiritual evidence of her ownership in that she had
found and brought to shore. If he would only live!
As they walked she prayed.
She was not in love with him, of course,--not yet,--and yet she could
scarcely analyze--hardly comprehend--her feelings. Her mind was in a
whirl. Faint, exhausted physically, she did not yet see clearly. But
he was there. She had brought him. This human bit of flotsam was
hers--but for her he would have gone down forever in the dark waters.
If he lived, what things might be? What might come? She admitted
nothing, even to herself.
It was some distance from the landing-place to the top of the hill, and
although the man they had rescued, albeit tall, was a slender young
fellow, yet as the sailor toiled up the well-worn path he felt the
weight of the inert body growing greater with every ascending step.
Perhaps it would not have been so had he not previously exhausted
himself in the desperate pull to gain the shore; but when at last he
reached the porch, he felt that it would have been impossible for him
to have carried his burden another pace. Indeed, had it not been for
the assistance Emily had given him, he could not have managed it
without a stop or two for rest. But he had plunged blindly on,
something--an instinct of the future, perhaps--bidding him rid himself
without delay of the growing oppression of his incubus. Not Sindbad had
been more anxious to throw off his old man of the sea than he to cast
down the man.
And Barry and Emily began to play at cross-purposes from that hour.
The man saved so hardly had as yet given no sign of life. When the
three reached the porch, the sailor laid him down at the admiral's
feet and stood panting, sweat beading on his bronzed brow. The old
man, still wrapped in his cloak, stood on the steps, careless alike
of the rising wind or the rain which had begun to fall.
"Well done!" he cried, extending his hand to them, as the sailor
deposited his burden. "I never saw a boat better handled, girl! 'Twas
a gallant rescue, Barry!"
"Oh, grandfather!" cried Emily, too anxious to heed approval, even
from such a source; "is he dead, do you think?"
"I hope not; but we'll soon see. Call the servants, Emily. Barry, lift
him up again and take him into my room."
"No, mine," exclaimed Emily, as she ran to call assistance. "I won't
have you disturbed, and mine is right off the hall here."
"Very well. Lay him on the floor, Barry. And, Emily, bring me my
flask. Bear a hand, all."
[Illustration: Presently the man was stretched out upon a blanket
thrown upon the floor of Emily's room]
Presently the man was stretched out upon a blanket thrown upon the
floor of Emily's room, and the admiral knelt down by his side. He felt
over him with his practised fingers, murmuring the while:
"No bones broken apparently. I guess he'll be all right. Have you the
flask there, daughter? This will bring him around, I trust," he added,
as he poured the restoring liquid down the man's throat. "Barry, go
you for Dr. Wilcox as quick as you can. Present my compliments to him,
and ask him to come here at once. Shake a leg, man! Emily, loosen the
man's collar--your fingers are younger than mine--and give him another
swallow. He's worth a dozen dead men yet, I'm sure."
As he spoke the admiral rose to his feet and gave place to Emily. Very
gently the girl did as the old man bade her, and presently the man
extended before her opened his eyes and stared up at her vacantly,
wonderingly, for a few moments at first, and then, with a dawning
light of recognition in his eyes, he smiled faintly as he remembered.
His first words might have been considered flippant, unworthy of the
situation, but to the girl they seemed not inappropriate.
"The blue-eyed water-witch!" he murmured. "To be saved by you," he
continued, half jestingly,--it was a brave heart which could find
place for pleasantry then, she thought,--"and then to find you smiling
above me."
At these whispered words what he still lacked in color flickered into
Emily's face, and as he gazed steadily upon her, the flicker became a
flame which suffused her cheeks. He had noticed her even in those
death-fronting moments on the wreck.
"Are you better now?" she asked him in her confusion.
"Better, miss?" he answered, softly, yet not striving to rise; "I am
well again. I came down to----"
"Silence, lad, silence fore and aft! Belay all until the surgeon
comes, and you shall tell us all about it then," interrupted the
admiral. "He'll be here in a moment now, I think, if Barry have good
luck. Will you have another swallow of whiskey?"
"No, sir, thank you; I've had enough."
At that moment the sailor entered the hall, fairly dragging the fat
little doctor in his wake.
"I fell foul of him just outside of the yard, your honor," said Barry,
as he appeared in the door-way.
"'Fell foul of me!' I should think you did! You fell on me like a
storm," cried the doctor, dropping his wet cloak in the passage-way
and bustling into the room. "What is it, admiral? Are you----?"
"I'm all right, doctor."
"It's not Miss Emily?"
"No, sir; I'm all right, too; but----"
"Oho!" said the doctor, his glance at last falling to the man extended
on the floor; "this is the patient, is it? Well, young man, you look
rather damp, I am sure. What's up?"
"Nothing seems to be up, sir," answered the man, smilingly, amusedly.
"I seem to be down, though."
"I guess you're in pretty good shape, sir," said the doctor,
laughingly, "if you can joke about it; and if you are down now, we'll
soon have you up."
As he spoke, the physician knelt and examined his patient carefully.
"How did it happen, Miss Emily?" he asked, as he proceeded with his
investigations.
"Why, doctor, we picked him up out of the water."
"We?"
"Yes, sir. Captain Barry and I."
"My sloop was wrecked on the rocks beyond the old ship," said the
young man; "and when this young lady came along in a boat I jumped,
and as I am not quite recovered from a wound I got at Mobile Bay, I
suppose I lost consciousness from the shock. I'm all right now,
though."
"I think so, too," said the doctor; "we'll get these wet clothes off
you in a jiffy, and then I'll give you something, and in the morning
you'll hardly know you've been in danger."
"I shall never forget that I was in danger this time, sir," said the
young man, addressing the doctor, but looking fixedly at the young
girl.
"No, of course not; but why particularly at this time?"
"Because I was saved by----"
"Oh, that's it, is it? Faith, I'd be willing to be half drowned myself
to be saved in that way. Meanwhile, do you withdraw, Miss Emily, and
we'll get him ready for bed. Where is he to lie?"
"Here," said the girl.
"In your room?"
"Certainly."
"I protest, sir," said the man, sitting up with astonishing access of
vigor.
"Nobody protests when Miss Emily commands anything. Here you'll stay,
sir!" said Barry, gruffly, as the girl left the room.
The doctor and the sailor soon tucked him away in bed, the admiral
looking on. As they undressed him they noticed a long scar across his
breast where a shell from Fort Morgan had keeled him over. The doctor
examined it critically.
"That was a bad one," he said, touching the wound deftly with his
pudgy yet knowing finger. "That'll be the one you spoke of, I take
it?"
"Yes, sir," answered the young man; "it's been a long time in healing.
I feel the effect of it yet sometimes."
"But you'll get over it in time, young man, I'm thinking," said the
kindly little country doctor.
"I hope so, sir."
The patient was thin and pale from the effects of the wound, which, as
he said, had been a long time healing. It was evident that he had not
yet recovered his strength or his weight, either, or the burden on
Captain Barry would have been heavier than it was.
"Did you say," said the admiral, as they prepared to leave him, "that
you had been at Mobile Bay?"
"Yes, sir."
"What ship were you on?"
"The _Hartford_, sir."
"Bless me!" exclaimed the old man; "with Dave Farragut?"
"Yes, sir; I had that honor."
"Why, I knew that boy when he was a midshipman. I----"
"Now, admiral, excuse me for giving commands in your presence, but you
know there are times when the doctor rules the ship. This young man
must be left alone, and, after the excitement, I think you had better
go to bed--excuse me, I mean turn in--yourself," interposed the
physician, peremptorily.
"Hark to the storm!" said the old man, turning to the window, his
thoughts diverted for the moment from the accident and his guest--it
needed but little to turn his mind to the ship at any time or under
any circumstances. "Mark the flash of the lightning, hear the thunder,
doctor! She'll be sore racked to-night!"
He peered anxiously out into the darkness over the Point.
"Come, come, admiral."
"Nay, sir. I must wait for another flash to see whether the old ship
still stands. Ay, there she is! Well, 'twill not be long; and were it
not for Emily, I'd say, thank God! Good-night, lad. A boy with
Farragut, and he a boy with me! Well, well! Good-night; sleep well,
sir."
Long time the veteran lay awake listening to the wind and waiting for
the crash of the ship. And in the room above, where the servants had
made a bed for Emily, another kept sleepless watch, though she thought
but little of the storm; or, if she did, it was with thankfulness for
what it had brought her.
How handsome he had looked, even with that death-like pallor upon his
brown sunburnt cheek, as she had knelt beside him! Had the waves of
the tempest indeed brought the long-expected, long-dreamed-of lover to
her feet? And he was a sailor; he had been with Farragut; he had been
wounded in the service of his country--a hero! And what had he said?
"Saved by a blue-eyed water-witch!" How delightful to think on! And he
would never forget the rescue because she had done it! He jested,
surely; yet could the words be true?
How different he was from the young men of the village! Even the few
officers of the different detachments of volunteers which had
successively garrisoned the fort were not as he. How different from
Captain Barry, too--alas, poor old sailor! Her grandfather, now, might
have been like him when he was younger.
What a storm it was! How the wind howled around the corners of the
house! What had he come there for? Strangers rarely visited the quiet
little town. What business or pleasure had brought him to the village?
Was the ship braving the storm? If the ship went down, her grandfather
would go, too, and perhaps Captain Barry. Who would care for her then?
What was that young man's name? Pity he had not mentioned it. "A
blue-eyed water-witch!"
She drifted off to sleep.
Down upon the deck of the old ship, heedless of the storm, Captain
Barry paced restlessly up and down. What had he done it for? What
fool's impulse had made him obey her sharp command? 'Twas his arm that
had held the boat under iron control; 'twas his powerful stroke that
had brought it near enough to enable the man to make the leap with the
chance of safety; and he had carried him up the hill. The increasing
weight of the incumbrance but typified the growing heaviness of his
heart. The man was one of the admiral's class,--a gentleman, an
officer, a man who had been wounded in the service of his country, a
hero. How he had stared at Emily when his senses came back to him! He,
Barry, was only a common sailor, a blue-jacket, the admiral's
servitor, Miss Emily's dog, old enough to be her father,--a fool!
He stood up in the darkness and stretched out his arms to
heaven,--what voiceless, wordless prayer in his lonely old heart? The
storm beat full upon him. His mind was filled with foreboding, regret,
jealousy, anguish. Why had the man come there? Was it for Emily? What
should any man come there for if not for her?
But, stay; he was a sailor. Perhaps he had come for the ship! The war
was over, retrenchment the cry. Poor Barry had heard strange rumors.
There was no sleep for him that night.