tory was short but grewsome. The brigantine
was not a Turks Islands boat, but a coaster from Jamaica. She had sailed
with a small cargo for Savannah. Two days out and the smallpox made its
appearance on board. The sufferer, a negro foremast hand, died. Then
another sailor was seized and also died. The skipper, who was the owner,
was the next victim, and the vessel was in a state of demoralization
which the mate, an Englishman named Bradford, could not overcome. Then
followed days and nights of calm and terrible heat, of pestilence
and all but mutiny. The mate himself died. There was no one left who
understood navigation. At last came a southeast gale and the San Jose
drove before it. Fair weather found her abreast the Cape. The survivors
ran her in after dark, anchored, and reached shore in the longboat. The
sick man whom they had left in the forecastle was a new hand who had
shipped at Kingston. His name was Murphy, they believed. They had left
him because he was sure to die, like the others, and, besides, they knew
some one would see the distress signals and investigate. That was all,
yes. Santa Maria! was it not enough?

This tale was a delicious tidbit for Didama and the "daily advertisers,"
but, after all, it was a mere side dish compared to Mr. Ellery's
astonishing behavior. That he, the minister of the Regular church,
should risk his life, risk dying of the smallpox, to help a stranger
and a common sailor, was incomprehensible. Didama, at least, could not
understand it, and said so. "My soul and body!" she exclaimed, with
uplifted hands. "I wouldn't go nigh my own grandfather if he had the
smallpox, let alone settin' up with a strange critter that I didn't
know from Adam's cat. And a minister doin' it! He ought to consider the
congregation, if he done nothin' else. Ain't we more important than a
common water rat that, even when he's dyin', swears, so I hear tell,
like a ship's poll parrot? I never heard of such foolishness. It beats
ME!"

It "beat" a good many who, like the Widow Rogers, could not understand
self-sacrifice. But there were more, and they the majority of Trumet's
intelligent people, who understood and appreciated. Dr. Parker, a man
with a reputation for dangerously liberal views concerning religious
matters and an infrequent attendant at church, was enthusiastic and
prodigal of praise.

"By George!" vowed the doctor. "That's MY kind of Christianity. That's
the kind of parson I can tie to. I'm fo