I Saw Three Ships | Page 6

such weather was
hopeless; and the attempt to run before it ended as we know.
When Ruby looked up, after the crash, and saw her friends running
along the headland to catch a glimpse of the wreck, her anger returned.
She stood for twenty minutes at least, watching them; then, pulling her
cloak closely round her, walked homewards at a snail's pace. By the
church gate she met the belated Methodists hurrying up, and passed a
word or two of information that sent them panting on. A little beyond,
at the point where the peninsula joins the mainland, she faced round to
the wind again for a last glance. Three men were following her slowly
down the ridge with a burden between them. It was the first of the
rescued crew--a lifeless figure wrapped in oil-skins, with one arm
hanging limply down, as if broken. Ruby halted, and gave time to come
up.
"Hey, lads," shouted Old Zeb, who walked first, with a hand round
each of the figure's sea-boots; "now that's what I'd call a proper
womanly masterpiece, to run home to Sheba an' change her stockings
in time for the randivoose."
"I don't understand," said his prospective daughter-in-law, haughtily.
"O boundless depth! Rest the poor mortal down, mates, while I take
breath to humour her. Why, my dear, you must know from my tellin'

that there hev a-been such a misfortunate goin's on as a wreck,
hereabouts."
He paused to shake the rain out of his hat and whiskers. Ruby stole a
look at the oil-skin. The sailor's upturned face was of a sickly yellow,
smeared with blood and crusted with salt. The same white crust filled
the hollows of his closed eyes, and streaked his beard and hair. It turned
her faint for the moment.
"An the wreck's scat abroad," continued Old Zeb; an' the interpretation
thereof is barrels an' nuts. What's more, tide'll be runnin' for two hour
yet; an' it hasn' reached my ears that the fashion of thankin' the Lord for
His bounty have a-perished out o' this old-fangled race of men an'
women; though no doubt, my dear, you'd get first news o' the change,
with a bed-room window facin' on Ruan Cove."
"Thank you, Old Zeb; I'll be careful to draw my curtains," said she,
answering sarcasm with scorn, and turning on her heel.
The old man stooped to lift the sailor again. "Better clog your pretty
ears wi' wax," he called after her, "when the kiss-i'-the-ring begins!
Well-a-fine! What a teasin' armful is woman, afore the first-born comes!
Hey, Sim Udy? Speak up, you that have fifteen to feed."
"Ay, I was a low feller, first along," answered Sim Udy, grinning.
"'Sich common notions, Sim, as you do entertain!' was my wife's
word."
"Well, souls, we was a bit tiddlywinky last Michaelmas, when the
_Young Susannah_ came ashore, that I must own. Folks blamed the
Pa'son for preachin' agen it the Sunday after. 'A disreppitable scene,'
says he, ''specially seein' you had nowt to be thankful for but a cargo o'
sugar that the sea melted afore you could get it.' (Lift the pore chap aisy,
Sim.) By crum! Sim, I mind your huggin' a staved rum cask, and kissin'
it, an' cryin', 'Aw, Ben--dear Ben!' an' 'After all these years!' fancyin'
'twas your twin brother come back, that was killed aboard the
Agamemny--"

"Well, well--prettily overtook I must ha' been. (Stiddy, there, Crowder,
wi' the legs of en.) But to-day I'll be mild, as 'tis Chris'mas."
"Iss, iss; be very mild, my sons, as 'tis so holy a day."
They tramped on, bending their heads at queer angles against the
weather, that erased their outlines in a bluish mist, through which they
loomed for a while at intervals, until they passed out of sight.
Ruby, meanwhile, had hurried on, her cloak flapping loudly as it grew
heavier with moisture, and the water in her shoes squishing at every
step. At first she took the road leading down-hill to Ruan Cove, but
turned to the right after a few yards, and ran up the muddy lane that
was the one approach to Sheba, her father's farm.
The house, a square, two-storeyed building of greystone, roofed with
heavy slates, was guarded in front by a small courtlage, the wall of
which blocked all view from the lower rooms. From the narrow
mullioned windows on the upper floor, however, one could look over it
upon the duck-pond across the road, and down across two grass
meadows to the cove. A white gate opened on the courtlage, and the
path from this to the front door was marked out by slabs of blue slate,
accurately laid in line. Ruby, in her present bedraggled state, avoided
the front entrance, and followed the wall round the house to