Dismally2 barren and lonesome was that desolate3 bar between the bay and the ocean. Here and there it swelled4 up into great drifts and mounds6 of sand, which were almost large enough to be called hills; but nowhere did it show a tree, or a bush, or even a patch of grass. Annie Foster found herself getting melancholy7, as she gazed upon it, and thought of how the winds must sometimes sweep across it, laden8 with sea-spray and rain and hail, or with the bitter sleet9 and blinding snow of winter.
"Dabney," she said, "was the storm very severe here last night and yesterday?"
"Worse than it was over on our side of the bay, ten times."
"Were there any vessels11 wrecked13?"
"Most likely, but it's too soon to know just where."
At that moment "The Swallow" was running around a sandy point, jutting14 out into the bay from the foot of the highest mound5 on the bar, not half a mile from the light-house, and only twice as far from the low wooden roof of the "wrecking-station," where, as Dab10 had explained to his guests, the lifeboats and other apparatus15 of all sorts were kept safely housed. The piles of drifted sand had for some time prevented the brightest eyes on board "The Swallow" from seeing any thing to seaward; but now, as they came around the point and a broad level lay before them, Ham Morris sprang to his feet in sudden excitement, as he exclaimed,—
"In the breakers! Why, she must have been a three-master! It's all up with her now."
"Look along the shore!" shouted Dab. "Some of 'em saved, anyhow. The coast-men are there, too, life-boats and all."
So they were; and Ham was right about the vessel12, though not a mast was left standing18 in her now. If there had been, indeed, she might have been kept off the breakers, as they afterwards learned. She had been dismasted in the storm, but had not struck until after daylight that morning, and help had been close at hand and promptly19 given. There was no such thing as saving that unfortunate hull20. She would beat to pieces just where she lay, sooner or later, according to the kind of weather that might take the job in hand, and the size and force of the waves it should bring with it.
The work done already by the life-boat men had been a good one; and it had not been very easy, either, for they had brought the crew and passengers safely through the boiling surf, and landed them all upon the sandy beach. They had even saved for them some items of baggage. In a few hours the coast "wrecking-tugs" would be on hand to look out for the cargo21. There was therefore no chance for the 'long-shore men to turn an honest penny without working hard for it. Work and wages enough there would be, to be sure, helping22 to unload, whenever the sea, now so heavy, should go down a little; but "work" and "wages" were not the precise things some of them were most hungry for.
Two of them, at all events,—one a tall, grizzled, weather-beaten, stoop-shouldered old man, in tattered23 raiment, and the other more battered24 still, but with no "look of the sea" about him,—stood on a sand-drift, gloomily gazing at the group of shipwrecked people on the shore, and the helpless mass of timber and spars out there among the beatings of the surf.
"Not more'n three hunder' yards out She'd break up soon, 'f there was no one to hender. Wot a show we'd hev!"
"I reckon," growled25 the shorter man. "'S your name Peter?"
"Ay. I belong yer. Allers lived 'bout17 high-water mark. Whar'd ye come from?"
The only answer was a sharp and excited exclamation26. Neither of them had been paying any attention to the bay side of the bar; and, while they were gazing at the wreck, a very pretty little yacht had cast anchor, close in shore; and then, with the help of a rowboat, quite a party of ladies and gentlemen—the latter somewhat young-looking for the greater part—had made their way to the land, and were now hurrying forward. They did not pay the slightest attention to Peter and his companion, but in a few minutes more they were trying to talk to those poor people on the seaward beach. Trying, but not succeeding very well; for the wreck had been a Bremen bark, with an assorted27 cargo and some fifty passengers, all emigrants28. German seemed to be their only tongue, and none of Mrs. Kinzer's pleasure-party spoke29 German.
"Too bad," Ford30 Foster was saying about it, when there came a sort of wail31 from a group at a little distance, and it seemed to close with,—
"Pauvre enfant!"
"French!" exclaimed Ford. "Why, they look as Dutch as any of the rest.
Come on, Annie, let's try and speak to them."
The rest followed, a good deal like a flock of sheep; and it was a sad enough scene that lay before them. No lives had been lost in the wreck; but there had been a good deal of suffering among the poor passengers, cooped up between decks, with the hatches closed, while the storm lasted. Nobody drowned, indeed; but all had been dreadfully soaked in the surf in getting ashore32, and among the rest had been the fair-haired child, now lying there on his mother's lap, so pinched and blue, and seemingly so nearly lifeless.
French, were they?
Yes and no; for the father, a tall, stout33 young man, who looked like a farmer, told Ford they were from Alsace, and spoke both languages.
"The child, was it sick?"
Not so much "sick" as dying of starvation and exposure. Oh, such a sad, pleading look as the poor mother lifted to the moist eyes of Mrs. Kinzer, when the portly widow pushed forward and bent34 over the silent boy! Such a pretty child he must have been, and not over two years old; but the salt water was in his tangled35 curls now, and his poor lips were parted in a weak, sick way, that told of utter exhaustion36.
"Can any thing be done, mother?"
"Yes, Dabney, there can. You and Ham and Ford and Frank go to the yacht, quick as you can, and bring the spirit-heater, lamp and all, and bread and milk, and every dry napkin and towel you can find. Bring Keziah's shawl."
Such quick time they made across that sand-bar!
They were none too soon, either; for, as they came running down to their boat a mean-looking, slouching sort of fellow walked rapidly away from it.
"He was going to steal it!"
"Can't go for him now, Dab; but you'll have to mount guard here, while we go back with the things."
There was a good deal of the "guard mounted" look in Dab's face, when they left him, a few minutes later, standing there by the boat, and he had one of the oars37 in his hand. An oar16 is almost as good a club as the lower joint38 of a fishing-rod, and that was exactly the thought in Dab's mind.
Ham and Frank and Ford hurried back to the other beach, to find that Mrs. Kinzer had taken complete possession of that baby. Every rag of his damp things was already stripped off; and now, while Miranda lighted the "heater," and made some milk hot in a minute, the good lady began to rub the little sufferer as only an experienced mother knows how.
Then there was a warm wrapping-up in cloths and shawls, and better success than anybody had dreamed of in making the seemingly half-dead child eat something.
"That was about all the matter with him," said Mrs. Kinzer. "Now, if we can get him and his mother over to the house, we can save both of them. Ford, how long did you say it was since they'd eaten any thing?"
"About three days, they say."
"Mercy on me! And that cabin of ours holds so little! Glad it's full, anyhow. Let's get every thing out and over here, right away."
"The cabin?"
"No, Hamilton, the provisions."
Not a soul among them all thought of their own lunch, any more than Mrs. Kinzer herself did; but Joe and Fuz were not among them just then. On the contrary, they were over there by the shore, where the "Jenny" had been pulled up, trying to get Dab Kinzer to put them on board "The Swallow."
"Somebody ought to be on board of her," said Fuz, in as anxious a tone as he could assume, "with so many strange people around."
"It isn't safe," added Joe.
"Fact," replied Dab; "but then, I kind o' like to feel a little unsafe."
The Hart boys had a feeling, at that moment, that somehow or other Dab knew why they were so anxious to go on board; and they were right enough, for he was saying to himself, "They can wait. They do look hungry, but they'll live through it. There ain't any cuffs39 or collars in Ham's locker40."
All there was then in the locker was soon out of it, after Mrs. Kinzer and the rest came, for they brought with them the officers of the wrecked bark; and neither Joe nor Fuz had an opportunity to so much as "help distribute" that supply of provisions. Ham went over to see that the distribution should be properly made; while Mrs. Kinzer saw her little patient, with his father and mother, safely stowed on board "The Swallow."
"I'll save that baby, anyhow," she said to Miranda; "and Ford says his father's a farmer. We can find plenty for 'em to do. They'll never see a thing of their baggage, and I guess they hadn't a great deal."
She was just the woman to guess correctly about such a matter.
At that moment Dabney was saying to Annie Foster,—
"Whom do you guess I've seen to-day?"
"I can't guess. Who was it?"
"The tramp!"
"The same one?"
"The very same. There he goes, over the sandhill yonder, with old Peter the wrecker. We've got to hurry home now, but I'm going to set Ham Morris on his track before we get through."
"You'll never find him again."
"Do you s'pose old Peter'd befriend a man that did what he did? Right on the shore of the bay? No, indeed! There isn't a fisherman from here to Montauk, that wouldn't join to hunt him out. He's safe to be found whenever Ham wants him, if we don't scare him away now."
"Don't scare him, then," almost whispered Annie.
The wind was fair; and the home sail of "The Swallow" was really a swift and short one, but it did seem dreadfully long to her passengers.
Mrs. Kinzer was anxious to see that poor baby and his mother safely in bed. Ham wanted to send a whole load of refreshments41 back to the shipwrecked people. Dab Kinzer could not keep his thoughts from following that "tramp." And then, if the truth must come out, every soul on board the beautiful little yacht was getting more and more painfully aware with every minute that passed, that they had had a good deal of sea-air and excitement, and a splendid sail across the bay, but no dinner,—not so much as a red herring and a cracker42.
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1
wreck
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| n.失事，遇难；沉船；vt.(船等)失事，遇难 | |
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dismally
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| adv.阴暗地，沉闷地 | |
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3
desolate
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| adj.荒凉的，荒芜的；孤独的，凄凉的；v.使荒芜，使孤寂 | |
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4
swelled
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| 增强( swell的过去式和过去分词 )； 肿胀； （使）凸出； 充满（激情） | |
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5
mound
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| n.土墩，堤，小山；v.筑堤，用土堆防卫 | |
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mounds
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| 土堆，土丘( mound的名词复数 )； 一大堆 | |
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7
melancholy
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| n.忧郁，愁思；adj.令人感伤（沮丧）的，忧郁的 | |
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laden
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| adj.装满了的；充满了的；负了重担的；苦恼的 | |
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sleet
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| n.雨雪；v.下雨雪，下冰雹 | |
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dab
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| v.轻触，轻拍，轻涂；n.(颜料等的)轻涂 | |
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11
vessels
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| n.血管( vessel的名词复数 )；船；容器；（具有特殊品质或接受特殊品质的）人 | |
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12
vessel
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| n.船舶；容器，器皿；管，导管，血管 | |
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wrecked
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| adj.失事的，遇难的 | |
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14
jutting
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| v.（使）突出( jut的现在分词 )；伸出；（从…）突出；高出 | |
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15
apparatus
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| n.装置，器械；器具，设备 | |
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oar
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| n.桨，橹，划手；v.划行 | |
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17
bout
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| n.侵袭，发作；一次(阵，回)；拳击等比赛 | |
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18
standing
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| n.持续，地位；adj.永久的，不动的，直立的，不流动的 | |
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promptly
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| adv.及时地，敏捷地 | |
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hull
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| n.船身；(果、实等的)外壳；vt.去(谷物等)壳 | |
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21
cargo
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| n.(一只船或一架飞机运载的)货物 | |
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helping
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| n.食物的一份&adj.帮助人的，辅助的 | |
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tattered
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| adj.破旧的，衣衫破的 | |
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24
battered
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| adj.磨损的；v.连续猛击；磨损 | |
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25
growled
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| v.（动物）发狺狺声， （雷）作隆隆声( growl的过去式和过去分词 )；低声咆哮着说 | |
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26
exclamation
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| n.感叹号，惊呼，惊叹词 | |
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27
assorted
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| adj.各种各样的，各色俱备的 | |
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28
emigrants
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| n.（从本国移往他国的）移民( emigrant的名词复数 ) | |
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29
spoke
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| n.（车轮的）辐条；轮辐；破坏某人的计划；阻挠某人的行动 v.讲，谈（speak的过去式）；说；演说；从某种观点来说 | |
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30
Ford
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| n.浅滩，水浅可涉处；v.涉水，涉过 | |
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31
wail
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| vt./vi.大声哀号，恸哭；呼啸，尖啸 | |
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32
ashore
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| adv.在(向)岸上，上岸 | |
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34
bent
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| n.爱好，癖好；adj.弯的；决心的，一心的 | |
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35
tangled
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| adj. 纠缠的，紊乱的 动词tangle的过去式和过去分词 | |
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36
exhaustion
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| n.耗尽枯竭，疲惫，筋疲力尽，竭尽，详尽无遗的论述 | |
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37
oars
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| n.桨，橹( oar的名词复数 )；划手v.划（行）( oar的第三人称单数 ) | |
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38
joint
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| adj.联合的，共同的；n.关节，接合处；v.连接，贴合 | |
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39
cuffs
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| n.袖口( cuff的名词复数 )v.掌打，拳打( cuff的第三人称单数 ) | |
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40
locker
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| n.更衣箱，储物柜，冷藏室，上锁的人 | |
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41
refreshments
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| n.点心,便餐;(会议后的)简单茶点招 待 | |
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42
cracker
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| n.（无甜味的）薄脆饼干 | |
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