had escaped were mostly
those which went into harbour Saturday night, to keep Sunday. Mr. Coles
says the rest stayed outside and fished all day Sunday, same as through
the week, and HE says the storm was a judgment on them for doing it. But
he admits that even some of them got into harbour later on and escaped,
so it's hard to know what to think. But it is certain that on Sunday
night there came up a sudden and terrible storm--the worst, Mr. Coles
says, that has ever been known on the north shore. It lasted for two
days and scores of vessels were driven ashore and completely wrecked.
The crews of most of the vessels that went ashore on the sand beaches
were saved, but those that struck on the rocks went to pieces and all
hands were lost. For weeks after the storm the north shore was strewn
with the bodies of drowned men. Think of it! Many of them were unknown
and unrecognizable, and they were buried in Markdale graveyard. Mr.
Coles says the schoolmaster who was in Markdale then wrote a poem on the
storm and Mr. Coles recited the first two verses to me.

"'Here are the fishers' hillside graves,
The church beside, the woods around,
Below, the hollow moaning waves
Where the poor fishermen were drowned.

"'A sudden tempest the blue welkin tore,
The seamen tossed and torn apart
Rolled with the seaweed to the shore
While landsmen gazed with aching heart.'

"Mr. Coles couldn't remember any more of it. But the saddest of all the
stories of the Yankee Storm was the one about the Franklin Dexter.
The Franklin Dexter went ashore on the Markdale Capes and all on board
perished, the Captain and three of his brothers among them. These four
young men were the sons of an old man who lived in Portland, Maine, and
when he heard what had happened he came right down to the Island to see
if he could find their bodies. They had all come ashore and had been
buried in Markdale graveyard; but he was determined to take them up and
carry them home for burial. He said he had promised their mother to take
her boys home to her and he must do it. So they were taken up and put
on board a sailing vessel at Markdale Harbour to be taken back to Maine,
while the father himself went home on a passenger steamer. The name of
the sailing vessel was the Seth Hall, and the captain's name was Seth
Hall, too. Captain Hall was a dreadfully profane man and used to swear
blood-curdling oaths. On the night he saile