A Sailors Lass | Page 4

easy, and the dame's sharp voice was
heard calling for the blanket long before he had groped his way to the
bedroom door. But what would he not do for that child whose faint wail
now greeted his ears? He pushed on, in spite of thumps and knocks
against unexpected corners, and when he had found the blanket, was
not long in making his way down with it.

"Now what's to be done with her?" demanded the woman, as she lifted
the little girl out of the water, and wrapped her in the blanket.
"Won't she drink some milk?" said Coomber, scratching his head
helplessly.
"I dessay she will presently; but who's to keep her? You say there ain't
none of the people saved from the wreck to tell who she belongs to?"
"No, there ain't none of 'em saved, so I think I'll take her myself," said
Coomber.
"You take her!" exclaimed the woman; "what will your wife say, do
you think, to another mouth to fill, when there's barely enough now for
what you've got--four hearty boys, who are very sharks for eating?"
"Well, dame, I've had a little gal o' my own, but ain't likely to have
another unless I takes this one," said Coomber, with a little more
courage, "and so I ain't a-going to lose this chance; for I do want a little
gal."
"Oh, that's all very well; but you ain't no call to take this child that's no
ways your own. She can go to the workus, you know. Peters'll take her
by-and-by. Her clothes ain't much, so her belongings ain't likely to
trouble themselves much about her. Yer can see by this trumpery medal
she don't belong to rich folks; so my advice is, let her go to the workus,
where she'll be well provided for."
"No, no! the missus'll see things as I do, when I talk to her a bit. So if
you'll take care of her for an hour or two, while I go home and get off
these duds, and tell her about it, I'll be obliged;" and without waiting
for the dame's reply, Coomber left the cottage.
[Illustration]
CHAPTER II.
THE FISHERMAN'S HOME.

"Why, mother, are you here?" Coomber spoke in a stern, reproachful
tone, for he had found his wife and the cowering children huddled
together in the corner of the old shed where the family washing and
various fish-cleaning operations were usually carried on; and the sight
did not please him.
"Are yer all gone mad that yer sitting out there wi' the rain drippin' on
yer, when yer might be dry an' comfortable, and have a bit o' breakfast
ready for a feller when he comes home after a tough job such as I've
had?"
"I--I didn't know when you was coming to breakfast," said Mrs.
Coomber, timidly, and still keeping close in the corner of the shed for
fear her husband should knock her down; while the children stopped
their mutual grumblings and complaints, and crept closer to each other
behind their mother's skirts.
"Couldn't you ha' got it ready and waited wi' a bit o' fire to dry these
duds?" exclaimed her husband.
"But the boat, Coomber, it wasn't safe," pleaded the poor woman. "We
might ha' been adrift any minute."
"Didn't I tell yer she was safe, and didn't I ought to know when a boat's
safe better nor you--a poor tool of a woman? Come out of it," he added,
impatiently, turning away.
The children wondered that nothing worse than hard words fell to their
share, and were somewhat relieved that the next question referred to
Bob, and not to their doings.
"You say he ain't come home?" said Coomber.
"I ain't seen him since he went with you to Fellness. Ain't you just
come from there?" said his wife, timidly.
"Of course I have, but Bob ought to have been back an hour or so ago,
for I had something to do in the village. Come to the boat, and I'll tell

you all about it," he added, in a less severe tone; for the thought of the
child he had rescued softened him a little, and he led the way out of the
washing-shed.
The storm had abated now, and the boat no longer rocked and swayed,
so that the children waded back through the mud without fear, while
their father talked of the little girl he had left with Dame Peters at
Fellness. They listened to his proposal to bring her home and share
their scanty meals with very little pleasure, and they wished their
mother would say she could not have another baby; but instead of this
Mrs. Coomber assented at once to her husband's plan of fetching the
child from Fellness that afternoon.
The Coombers were not a