rl in it."

"Ho-oh--that's it, is it?"

IV

Bess had curled herself up and was falling asleep; and her last sleep it
would have been but for the boom of a small gun and the hail of a
familiar voice. She stood up. Again a hail. And through the curtain of
white it came almost atop of her, the grandest schooner ever was! The
long lines of her seemed familiar. Then a clearer glimpse. Ay, she'd
know her anywhere--by the rust on her jumbo she would--the _Ligonier_.
And then it swept on by--ay, sailing as a wild gull.

Out of sight it went in the snow-squall, but leaving a voice in its
trail.

"Bessie! Bessie!" it called.

And now no schooner at all. Gone it was. And she remembered that that
was the way of it--the beautiful picture afore they went at last. But
soon again the sweep of the great white sails and the black body
beneath. And the beautiful handling of her! "Seamen, them!" said Bess
admiringly, and then alongside it came--beautiful, beautiful.

Then two arms scooped down and swept her over the rail of the lovely big
American schooner. A strong arm and a voice. "Oh, Bessie! Bessie! and
the big, warm, foolish heart of you!" said the voice, and the arms
carried her below and wrapped her in blankets and poured hot coffee,
mugs of it, down her throat, and laid her in a bunk, while he sat on the
locker and looked--just looked at her.

"Ah-h, Sammie!" murmured Bess blissfully. "An' now you'll bring me home,
Sammie?"

"Ay, home, Bess."

"Ah-h! An' my mother'll no ha' to cry for me, arter all. An' father,
too, he'll ha' no cause to--Ah-h, God love you, Sammie."

* * * * *

By the light of the kerosene lamp in John Lowe's kitchen sat John Lowe
reading his favorite volume, harrowing tales of religious persecution
centuries agone. And Mrs. Lowe sat rocking herself by the stove. Every
once in a while she would hide her head in her skirt, and, on
withdrawing it, wipe her eyes.

Now and again she would sigh wearily. "Too harsh, too harsh we were on
the lass. The blood runs warm at her age."

Whereat John Lowe would turn and look fixedly at her, open his lips as
if to say something but, always without speaking, refix his attention on
the fine black print before him.

A knock on the door and a tall man in oilskins and sea-boots entered.
"I've come to say--" he began: but by then John Lowe was on his feet.

"Captain Leary is it?"

"Captain Leary it is."

"Then, I've this to say