Burns Norton, Jack's father, was of Irish descent, and had been born and
raised in the south. His father, who had been a prominent cotton broker
before the war, had amassed a fortune that consisted principally of
stocks and bonds, with occasional bits of land scattered throughout
various southern states, that had been acquired by him through deals of
such magnitude that frequently the land was absorbed and reverted to him
in lieu of cash that he had advanced to his clients.
The war was the cause of the loss of the fortune thus acquired, and the
elder Norton, Jack's grandfather, had died soon after its close a poor
man, having turned over to those who had tried to help him survive these
strenuous times all the property, real and personal, that he possessed.
Among the tracts of land thus acquired was one which consisted of
several hundred acres situated in what was known as the Panhandle, in
Texas, then arid and considered worthless except for range purposes.
When he had turned the deed to this over to his creditors, the board of
appraisers handed it back with the remark: "That is too far away. It is
valueless and we will not take it into consideration," and then added:
"Put it away for your boy; it may be worth something by the time he is a
man."
Burns Norton was just past fifteen when his father joined his mother,
who had never recovered from the shock sustained when their fortune was
lost, and with this tract of barren waste land, covered with curly
mosquito grass, as his only property inheritance, he was set adrift in
the world.
He accompanied a party of human derelicts, who drifted hither and
thither during the reconstruction days following the close of the war,
and finally landed in Texas, where he worked on a stock ranch, and rode
the old Santa Fe Trail from Quanah, Texas, to Topeka, Kansas, for years.
As time passed, and the Fort Worth & Denver Railroad was being
constructed, it passed through this land of Norton's. He had never
mentioned the fact that he owned the land to any one, and it had been
fenced as a part of an immense pasture, and when he went to the owners
of this pasture and demanded that his land be thrown outside by the
removal of their fence, they questioned his right to the land. Young
Norton had no difficulty in proving his ownership, and went immediately
to work improving it, and from this start sprung the immense wealth he
now controlled. It was this experience that had prompted his investment
in the land he had come to inspect at the time he discovered his lost
son Jack, living over the life that he had led when he was Jack's age,
and he understood where the adventurous disposition had originated, and
he did not blame the boy. In fact, he had never blamed Jack for
anything. He had been an indulgent father, and even now he was gratified
by the boy's spirit, and although he felt that he had been badly treated
he did not reproach him.
Mrs. Gully came to the door and called to her husband that dinner was
ready, and he invited his guests to come in. Mr. Palmer and Dugan, who
felt more at home than the rest, answered the summons promptly, and as
they were passing the well they noticed a barrel of fresh cold water
which stood temptingly near, and jokingly called to Mrs. Gully that if
she would provide them with a towel they thought they would enjoy
washing outside as they had done on their former visit.
Ida brought them towels and tin basins, and the entire party prepared
themselves for their dinner at the well while Gully explained the
workings of his pumping plant.
Jack and his father were the last to come to the well, and as Mr. Norton
splashed his face with an abundance of cold water he laughingly told
Jack that he did not blame him for being so enthusiastic about the
country if that was a fair sample of their water, "for," declared he,
"although it seems to have been sitting here for quite a while, it is
still sparkling and cool."
Jack assured him that he had never seen or heard of a bad well of water
in the country. Going into the house, they were seated at their dinners,
while Mrs. Gully and Ida served. It was a revelation to these tired
business men, this good wholesome food, that had been brought fresh from
the soil and cool pantry and served in the simplest homelike manner, and
they did justice to Mrs. Gully's and her daughter's culinary art by
eating most heartily.
After the meal was finished, Mr. Norton called to Jack and told him to
look in the front of the car in which he had come and bring him the
small satchel that bore his name on the tag. Jack secured the satchel,
and upon his return and handing it to his father, the latter took from
it a box of cigars, and after passing them around said that if the
ladies had no objections, they would visit a while, and postpone their
trip to the land. "You see," he continued, "with the discovery of this
young rascal," with a fond look at Jack, "there has been a great burden
relieved from my mind, and I want to enjoy it in my own way, for there
is no dependence to be put in his next move."
Mrs. Gully replied that she would be pleased to have Mr. Norton feel
enough at home to choose his own method of celebrating the restoration
of his son, but she did feel that she must protest the remarks about
Jack, for they had always found him a most dependable young man.
The old gentleman smiled at her defense of Jack, while that young worthy
arose from his seat, and with mock gravity thanked her for her effort in
his behalf, and turning to his father, quoted:
"I stand at the bar of justice,
Condemned in the cause that you plead;
My only defense the simple request
That you judge by the motive, not deed."
Mr. Norton, now in the best of spirits, turned to those present and
asked: "Shall we listen to his plea?" A chorus of voices exclaimed: "Go
ahead; let's have the story."
It was a trying moment for Jack Norton. He had not expected events to
take this turn, but he saw that his father expected an explanation of
his conduct, and there was no alternative. It must be made in the
presence of those who had assembled at the home of his dearest friends,
the Gullys, and he knew that in view of the relations that existed
between him and the family, an explanation was due.
Withdrawing his chair from the table, he placed it conveniently near for
Mrs. Gully to be seated by her husband, and securing a seat for Ida, he
stood directly facing her and began the recital of his story.
"I do not know," he began, "that it was Dad's original intention that I
should inflict upon you innocent persons present a recital of my boyish
prank that has resulted in this self imposed exile for the past four
years, and I wish to impress on your minds before I enter into details
that I am not making a plea for sympathy or setting up a plea of
extenuating circumstances.
"For the suffering that I have caused him I am sorry, and I too have
suffered. No one will ever know the hours of torturing remorse and
regret through which I have passed. My own sufferings I have borne, I
hope, with fortitude, as will no doubt be attested to by my very dear
friends, the Gully family, who have never heard me mention in the
slightest way my affairs, and who have been most considerate of my
feelings in not asking, as they had a perfect right to do, for any
information relative to myself or family, and for this evidence of
their faith in me I wish to thank them most heartily.
"With the circumstances attending my leaving him, Dad is thoroughly
familiar. I had just returned from the Agricultural and Mechanical
College of which my home state, Texas, is justly proud, and had joined
him in Galveston, where he had moved his family to reside permanently
after his retirement from the land and stock business, and at which
place my poor mother lost her life at the time of the disastrous tidal
wave which almost destroyed the city.
"Dad, at the time of the terrible occurrence, had gone on a short trip
to the northern part of the state to look after business interests, as
he frequently did. Why I escaped and was not taken with my mother I
never could understand, but by some caprice I was saved and cared for as
an 'unknown' until Dad returned, which he did as quickly as he could.
"After a search which lasted for days I was finally located by Dad, who
has always been a most kind and indulgent father. Upon this occasion of
my return from college, the event being my twenty-first birthday, I
found him in a most generous mood, ready to grant my every wish. He took
me to his office, he having resumed business activities after the loss
of my mother, and led me through the various departments and told me
that he was anxious to take me in with him and have me become familiar
with his affairs, that I might succeed him, as he was growing old.
"I thanked him for this generous offer, but being imbued with the idea
that I was a thorough yachtsman, I changed the subject and began teasing
him to let me take his yacht, the 'Magnolia,' for a few days' cruise
with some half dozen of my boy friends.
"The 'Magnolia' was a handsome craft, thoroughly equipped and furnished
to accommodate ten or a dozen passengers, and as her crew usually
consisted of three men, I had planned to take her out alone, with my
friends as helpers, making two watches, there being six of us, and we
would cruise to the coast of Mexico and return in about ten days.
"The yacht was Dad's special pride and his only recreation, and he had
bought and fitted her up at a very great expense. He had interests at
various points along the coast and in Cuba, and this was his means of
combining pleasure and business, by visiting these interests twice a
year. I had accompanied him on all these trips, as he arranged to make
them during my vacation from school or college, and I felt that I was
capable of taking her out and returning her to her slip on the strand in
perfect safety.
"But Dad did not think so and told me I had better wait and accompany
him later, at which time he would be pleased to entertain my friends on
the cruise. This did not suit me, and right here I blame Dad for not
being more firm with me. At any rate, he finally consented to let me
have the yacht, but I was to take her regular crew to man her. This I
agreed to do, but did so reluctantly.
"Dad gave me an order to the watchman on board to have her provisioned
for a ten days' trip, and to be made ready for sailing the following
Monday, at which time she was to be turned over to me. Thanking him, I
hurried to the slip and gave the watchman Dad's orders. He took it, and
after reading saluted, and with the familiar 'Aye, Aye, Sir,' sounding
in my ears, I left him.
"It was then Thursday, and I had ample time to look up the members of my
party and acquaint them with the success of my appeal to Dad. There was
one among those who accompanied me on this memorable trip with whom I
hope I may never come in contact. When I told him of the conditions
under which Dad had given me permission to use the yacht, he laughed and
said: That's easy; just forget to call her crew, and we'll take her out
alone,' and I, feeling my newly attained manhood, answered: 'I'll attend
to that; just you be ready at the appointed time,' and left him. But the
seed had been sown that finally grew and produced the bitterest fruit I
or any other misguided lad could ever taste.
"I never mentioned the fact to the rest of the boys that we were
supposed to have others than ourselves aboard, as I knew there were
those among them who would have refused to accompany me unless Dad's
requirements were complied with.
"Well, to make a long story short, I did not call the crew, and as Dad
was called away to St. Louis the Saturday before we were to sail he
never knew of my failure to do so until after it was too late. I went
with him to the station as he was leaving, and he took my hand and
wished me a pleasant voyage, and handing me a generous check, he added:
'I shall expect you here on my return; be careful, Jack. Goodbye,' and
that was the last time I saw or heard from him until a few hours ago.
"We left the following Monday morning, and I will never forget the
feeling of importance I experienced as the yacht drew out from her slip
at the end of a hawser and was towed out into the bay by a noisy little
steam tug which I had employed for the purpose. I knew that I was
disobeying Dad, but felt perfectly sure of myself, and I had those among
my party who were well experienced in sailing; besides, Dad was gone and
would not return until we had completed our cruise. Then I would tell
him of what I had done, how successfully I had managed the 'Magnolia'
and he would feel proud of me.
"When we were well out into the bay they let go the hawser and the
little craft began to ride the swells. It was but a moment's work to run
up a bit of canvas that soon picked up the breeze, and rounding to, we
headed for Boliver Point Light, that marked the outlet to the Gulf, and
as we entered the channel through which the huge ocean going vessels
gained entrance to the bay, we navigated our craft successfully, and
passed several of these, besides numerous tugs, lighters and revenue
cutters, and this fact but convinced us more thoroughly of our ability
as seamen.
"I had not taken the helm yet, but at the request of one of my guests
whom I knew to be an experienced yachtsman, had allowed him to see us
safely through the narrows that lay between Boliver Point and the
Jetties. After clearing the channel and entering the gulf proper I
relieved my friend, and taking the helm, steered directly south, a
course that almost paralleled the Galveston Island, but as the miles
increased the distance from the southern end of the island became so
great that we were almost in the path of the South American liners.
"We were having a splendid time, and as the breeze was favorable, we
decided to put into a little coast town whose buildings could be plainly
seen glistening in the bright sunlight far ahead on the main land. We
made this port, and after going ashore for a few hours, decided to
follow the coast, laying close in, and to put into the next village,
Port Lavaca, where we would tie up for the night.
"I will not undertake to describe our trip, with its many stops and
things of interest that we came in contact with at these quaint little
settlements, half Mexican and half American, that lined the Gulf shore.
"Passing over the next two days of our cruise, we arrived at Matagorda
Bay, and being desirous of visiting the point at the extreme inner end
of the bay, where the little village of Indianola had been almost
completely destroyed by the great tidal wave, we put in at the entrance
and spent the night at the town of Matagorda, intending to visit the
scene of the devastated village the following day.
"In this we were disappointed, for during the night a terrific gulf
storm came up, and it became so severe before morning that we were
compelled to abandon our berths aboard the yacht and go ashore. The
next two days brought no signs of an abatement of the storm, and we were
advised not to venture out until a more favorable time. Two days in this
little fishing village caused us to lose interest in its novelty, and to
a very great degree cooled our ardor and inclination to continue the
trip.
"The third day was very much better, and we decided to abandon our trip
and return home, and as the force of the storm decreased in its
severity, we started immediately after noon, intending to round the
point of Matagorda Peninsula before night and put into the first harbor
we could make on the leeward side.
"We experienced no difficulty in getting well under way in the Bay,
although the wind was against us, and by beating up first the inland
shore and by tacking back and forth, we reached the point just at dusk,
but we found the gale was almost as severe as it had been the day
before, and we dared not venture too far seaward. As darkness came on we
undertook to round the point to gain the leeward shore of the peninsula
and thus be protected from the force of the wind.
"I was at the helm and had given instructions to my companions, who were
all alert to help, to haul down most of the canvas before we attempted
to make the point. They were busily engaged at this when we glided out
to where we caught the full force of the gale, and it required all of my
time and strength to hold her off the point. It was now quite dark and
it was impossible to distinguish the land. The light off the point was
plainly seen, but it lay so far out, to mark the course of large
vessels, I dared not attempt to round it, but must make the space
between it and land, which I knew was ample, but I misjudged the
distance and in a few moments we were hard aground on the shoals and
were in a fair way of pounding to pieces.
"Work as we would, she was immovable, except to plow further into the
slimy mud, gravel and oyster shells of which the shoals consisted. We
stripped her of every thread of canvas after trying to right her,
thinking by so doing she would hold together for the night, but it was
no use. We saw that she was doomed and prepared to leave her to her
fate.
"We could hear the surf breaking off to port, and knew that we could
reach land easily, so when she finally rolled over on her side and her
hatches went awash, we gathered what we could of our effects and went
overboard. I do not know how my companions fared after they entered the
water. I had no difficulty in reaching land, for after being hurled
shoreward by the waves a few times, I found that I was not beyond my
depth, and after being knocked down and almost strangled as the breakers
came in, I scrambled ahead and finally found myself beyond their reach.
"My first thoughts were for the safety of my companions, and I called to
see if I could locate them. The sound of my voice was drowned by the
roar of the surf, but in a few minutes I heard a voice calling very near
me, and it proved to be one of the boys. It was no time for
congratulating each other on our escape, so we set to work to try and
locate the rest of the party. One by one we heard them answer our
shouts, and as each came in they aided in the search, until the last was
found. None seemed any the worse for their experience, and as we were
wet and chilled, with no means of providing a fire, we did not know what
to do, so we decided to move a little way back, and by keeping in motion
dry our clothes as best we could, and at any rate keep warm.
"We agreed to remain until morning and see what condition the Magnolia
was in before we undertook to work our way back along the peninsula to
the mainland. As the night advanced, I could hear the groaning of the
timber in our disabled craft as it was subjected to the strain of the
storm, and I thought of what I had done, and of poor old Dad, and I knew
that the loss of the yacht would not hurt him as badly as my actions. I
called my best boyhood friend, who had come as one of the party, off to
one side and told him of my trouble, of how I had disregarded Dad's
wishes, and confided to him that if the Magnolia proved to be a total
loss in the morning, I would not return to Dad, and gave him a message
to deliver to him saying that I would not return or write until, by my
own efforts, I could replace the yacht.
"My friends tried to persuade me to give up the idea, as such action
would but add to Dad's trouble. But I was obdurate, and lest I be
persuaded to abandon my purpose, I left them a few hours after our
conversation without waiting to see the result of the wreck that had
been caused by my folly.
"After leaving my friends I followed the ridge of the peninsula back to
the mainland and continued to walk until about noon the next day, when I
was forced to seek rest, as I was completely exhausted. When I reached a
little village, I purchased a flannel shirt and overalls, and my
identity was lost. With the funds I had in my possession and the check
Dad had given me, I managed to work my way out here, and you know the
rest."
Jack Norton had not been interrupted during the time he was telling his
story. His hearers sat deeply interested, but when he reached the end of
his narrative it brought them back to their surroundings. After a
moment's silence, Jack's father, who had been seated with his chair
tilted back, came down with a crash, and seizing Jack by the hand
exclaimed:
"Why, Jack, the 'Magnolia' was not hurt. Your friends brought her into
port a few days later and she is now as good as ever."
Young Norton was dumfounded. "How did they do it?" he asked.
"By the aid of some fishermen and a small tug who sighted them in
distress the following morning. She had only keeled over in the mud, and
as there were no rocks upon which to pound she hung together and they
soon had her righted and under sail. So you see, my boy, you have had
all this suffering for nothing," explained his father.
"No, not altogether for nothing, for I have learned a very great lesson;
not to jump at conclusions and to abide by an agreement; and besides,"
he said, smiling, "I have acquired a home of my own and," stepping over
to Ida's side and taking her by the hand, assisted her to arise, "Miss
Gully has done me the honor to promise to share this home with me, which
more than repays me for my sufferings. I ask but one other favor in this
world, and that is your forgiveness and blessings, Dad."
It was now Jack's father's turn to be taken by surprise, but he was too
old a diplomat to be caught off his guard, and he wanted to know more of
the step his son was contemplating before giving it his approval, so he
bowed politely to Ida and answered: "As for my forgiveness, son, you
have it, but it would be strange if I should go out into the world to
look for a lost son and should return with both a son and daughter." But
he did not commit himself.
The rest of the party who had heard Jack's story and its happy ending
came forward to congratulate he and Ida, and express their hopes for
their future.
Travis Gully and his wife, who had not yet been able to fully understand
the situation, were happy because the outcome had seemed to please Jack,
and they knew that after the strangers had gone he would tell them all
about it in a way they could understand.
Mr. Norton arose from the table and asked Gully if he could find
accommodations for the driver of his car, as he would like to spend the
night with his son in his home alone. Mr. Palmer, he said, could take
the other car and the rest of the party and return to the village and
await his coming.
[Illustration: _The change wrought by honest toil and that magic word,
irrigation._]
Gully said that he thought there would be no difficulty in providing for
him, and so it was arranged. Mr. Palmer and Dugan, with the three
remaining members of the party, who proved to be some friends of Mr.
Norton's who had accompanied him on this trip with the view to investing
in land, were to return to the village and await Mr. Norton's coming.
After thanking Travis Gully and his wife for their hospitality, they
shook hands with them and the young people, and with promises to see
them again in a few days, left for the village.
Soon after their departure, Mr. Norton expressed a desire to visit
Jack's homestead.
"All right, Dad," exclaimed Jack, "we will run over there, and I will
return later and get my horse and buggy."
"I'll take care of them; you go with your father," said Gully.
Jack thanked him and he and his father drove off together. Just as they
were turning from the road that led to the school house Jack noticed
that Miss Anderson had just dismissed school, and asked his father's
permission to take her and the Gully children home in the car, to which
his father consented. Turning back into the road, they soon met them,
and as the car was turned around to pick them up, Jack called to Miss
Anderson and invited her and the children to ride; when she smilingly
approached the car and before she could express her thanks, Jack
introduced his father. Miss Anderson stopped short, and her bewildered
look amused Jack, who had stepped out to assist her and the children to
enter the car.
"Don't ask any questions now," said he, laughing.
"But," she began, "I do not understand."
"Of course not, but Ida will tell you all about it when you get home,"
answered Jack.
As Miss Anderson entered the car and took the seat beside him, Mr.
Norton remarked:
"This has indeed been a remarkable day, Miss Anderson; a day of
wonders."
The children were assisted into the car, and Jack, with Joe upon his
knee, sat with the driver.
After they had been taken to the Gully home, and the children scrambled
out, all excitement over their first auto ride. Miss Anderson, after
being assisted from the car, thanked Mr. Norton and expressed the hope
that she would be in a better position on the morrow to discuss with him
the important events that had occurred. "For you know," said she, "I am
still in the dark."