Darry the Life Saver | Page 9

ashore with a false light last year. Time's comin' when
them rascals air goin' to git caught. Hangin' 'd be too easy for such
snakes. An' that boy o' his'n promises to be a chip o' the ole block. He's
as bad as they make 'em," returned the surfman, shaking his head.
Nothing so angers a life saver as the mention of a wrecker; for deep
down in his heart he believes that the men who make a living from
salvage after a vessel has gone to pieces on the reefs, or else in
boarding the wreck when the storm has gone down, would not hesitate
a minute about sending any ship to her doom if they believed it could
be done without too much risk.
"If he doesn't get on with the missus let me have a try with him, Abner.
Looks to be a likely lad. They're a scarce article around here--some go
to sea, others are in the service, and more get drowned; while those that
are left seem bad from top to bottom, just like Jim Dilks. Yes, I could
use that younker, I think."
Peake had turned white at mention of the fate that befalls so many
young men of the shore; but he made no remark concerning his
feelings.
"I'll remember what yuh say, Mr. Keeler. But I got a notion the boy will
stick with me. When the missus gets to know him she can't help but
like him. He's the clear quill. Take the change out of that bill. We just

got paid last night, yuh see. Darry, let's move along."
The village merchant looked after the couple a little enviously, as
though something about the boy's appearance had awakened his
interest.
"I saw Jim Dilks talking to Peake before they came in here. I wager that
young scamp has it in for the new boy in town. He's been a holy terror
for a long time, and for one I think something should be done to put a
stop to his doings. But his father has a grip on the worst elements here,
and everyone seems afraid to rile up the old wrecker. Some say he used
to be a smuggler years back, and even blacker stories are told of his life
in Cuba, before Spain got out of the island. Well, it's none of my
business. I don't dare act alone. If someone else starts the ball rolling
I'll give it a big shove." And so the butcher salved his conscience for
not doing his duty.
Meanwhile Darry and his new friend walked briskly along, talking as
they went.
The boy had seen considerable of foreign ports, and the many strange
things he could tell were doubly interesting to this simple life saver,
who had never been further than to Wilmington in all his life.
"See that light ahead, lad? That's a lamp in the windy o' my shack.
They knows when my night comes around, an' the missus puts that
lamp there. It's a big thing, Darry, to have a light in the windy, ashinin'
only fur you. Makes a feller feel like he had one leetle nest in all this
big world, where some un cared fur him. And that is goin' to be your
home too, boy."
"I don't know how to thank you, Mr. Peake," faltered the lad.
"Then don't try. Besides, mebbe yuh won't like it so well, after all.
Nancy, she ain't so easy to get on with, since leetle Joe went away.
Seems like she jest can't ever git over it. I seen her cryin' the last time I
was over. No use tryin' to comfort the pore ole gal. It left a sore place in
her heart that nothin' kin ever heal. I'm a hopin' that p'haps with you

around she may perk up some."
They were soon at the door. It was thrown open at the sound of Abner's
call, and two rather unkempt little girls rushed out, to be tossed up in
the air by the proud father.
They looked at Darry with wide-eyed wonder, for strangers were
uncommon in this neighborhood, so far removed from the railroad.
"Come right in, Darry. Here's the missus," said the life saver.
A woman came forward, and after greeting Abner, looked with a little
frown in the direction of the boy.
The surfman hastened to explain that Darry was a survivor of the last
wreck, on the shore where so many brave ships had left their bones.
"He's a waif, what's never knowed no home, Nance. The captain picked
him up abroad, but he's English or American, sure enough. With the
death of that captain went his only friend. I liked the lad,--he somehow
made me think of our Joe. Jest the same size, too,