Sweetapple Cove | Page 7

the children called. The mother went out, hurriedly, while
I stood at the open door. About a mile away a stunning white schooner
was steaming towards the entrance of Sweetapple Cove.
"I'm a-wonderin' what she be doin' here," said the woman, dully. "She
ain't no ship of our parts. I never seen the like o' she."
There was a glinting of light cast forth by bright brasses, and I could
see a red spot which appeared to indicate the presence of a woman on
board, clad perhaps in a crimson cape or shawl.
We kept on staring at her for some time, as people do in forsaken
places when a stranger passes by, and we returned to the bedside.
The day stretched out its interminable length, but the night was longer
still. The children had been put to bed in dark corners, after a meal of
fish and hard bread. The smallest had clamored for some tea.
"There ain't no more," said the mother.
I had noticed that she had put aside a very small package of this luxury,
on a high shelf.
"Why don't you give them some?" I asked. "You forget that you have a
little laid aside."
"There won't be none left fer you," she answered.
I ordered her to put the kettle on the fire at once and make tea for her
young ones, and bade her take some also.
"I told Sammy Moore to bring some to-morrow," I told her.
I am afraid that I dozed a good many times, that night, on the little low

stool near the bed. There was not much to be done. Gradually it dawned
upon me that the man was getting better. The stimulants had produced
some reaction, and the hot dry skin was becoming moister. I feared it
might be but a temporary improvement, and hardly dared mention it.
Yet the man was no longer delirious. Several times he asked for water,
and once looked at me curiously, with a faint attempt at a smile, before
his head again sank down on the pillow.
Finally the sunlight came again, shortly after the smoky lamp had been
extinguished, and I went out of the house, when the chill of the early
morning seized me so that for a moment my teeth chattered. The
woman followed me.
"He do be a dreadful long time dyin'," she said, miserably.
I suppose that I was nervous and weary with the two long nights of
watching, and lost mastery over myself. To me those words sounded
heartless, although now I realize they came from the depth of her woe.
"You have no right to say such things," I reproved her sharply. "I don't
think he is going to die. I believe that we have saved him."
Then she sank on the ground, grasping one of my chilly hands and
weeping over it. These were the first tears she had shed and I saw how
grievously I had erred. As gently as I could I lifted her to her feet.
"I'm sorry I spoke so gruffly," I said. "But I really believe that we are
going to pull him through, and that we shall save his arm."
At noon-time we saw the white yacht coming out of Sweetapple Cove.
She was speeding away in the direction of St. John's. The weather was
beginning to spoil, and at the foot of the seaward cliffs the great seas,
smooth and oily, boomed with great crashes that portended a coming
storm.
Early in the afternoon the wind was coming in black squalls,
accompanied by a rolling mist. As I looked towards the mainland I saw
a fishing boat coming, leaning hard to the strong gale. An hour later

Sammy and his man landed in the tiny cove and the old fellow came
rushing towards me.
"You is wanted to come ter onst," he said. "They is a man come
yisterday on that white yacht. He went up th' river fur salmon, jist after
his boat left, and bruk the leg o' he slippin' on the rocks. Yer got to
come right now,"
I took the small package he brought me and rushed up to the house with
it The improvement had continued, and I gave careful directions in
regard to continuing the treatment. After this I descended to the tiny
beach where the boat was waiting.
"She be nasty when yer gets from the lee o' the island," Sammy
informed me. "I mistrust its gettin' worse and some fog rollin' in wid' it.
Mebbe yer doesn't jist feel like reskin' it?"
"How about your wife and children, Sammy?" I asked. "There is no one
depending on me."
He took a long look, quietly gauging the possibilities.
"I'm a-thinkin' we's like to make it all right," he finally told me.