oms.

"Davy!"

"Ay, Bessie," I answered. "'Tis I."

"Our mother's wantin' you, dear."

I tiptoed up the stair, and to the bed where my mother lay, and, very
softly, I laid my cheek against her lips.

"My sister sent me, mum," I whispered.

"Yes," she sighed. "I'm--just wanting you."

Her arm, languid and light, stole round my waist.

IX

A WRECK on The THIRTY DEVILS

Fog--thick, stifling, clammy! A vast bank of it lay stranded on the
rocks of our coast: muffling voices, making men gasp. In a murky cloud
it pressed against my mother's windows. Wharves, cottages, harbour
water, great hills beyond--the whole world--had vanished. There was
nothing left but a patch of smoking rock beneath. It had come--a grey
cloud, drifting low and languidly--with a lazy draught of wind from the
east, which had dragged it upon the coast, spread it broadcast and
expired of the effort to carry it into the wilderness.

"Wonderful thick, b'y!" was the salutation for the day.

"'S mud," was the response.

Down went the barometer--down, down, slowly, uncompromisingly down!
'Twas shocking to the nerves to consult it.

"An' I'm tellin' you this, lads," said a man on my father's wharf,
tugging uneasily at his sou'wester, "that afore midnight you'll be
needin' t' glue your hair on!"

This feeling of apprehension was everywhere--on the roads, in the
stages, in the very air. No man of our harbour put to sea. With the big
wind coming, 'twas no place for punt, schooner or steamer. The waters
off shore were set with traps for the unwary and the unknowing--the
bluffs veiled by mist, the drift ice hidden, the reefs covered up. In a
gale of wind from the east there would be no escape.

* * * * *

Through the dragging day my mother had been restless and in pain. In the
evening she turned to us.

"I'm tired," she whispered.

Tired? Oh, ay! She was tired--very, very tired! It was near time for her
to rest. She was sadly needing that.

"An' will you try t' sleep, now?" my sister asked.

"Ay," she answered, wanly, "I'll sleep a bit, now, if I can. Where's
Davy?"

"Sure, mama," said I, in surprise, "I'm sittin' right by the bed!"

"Ah, Davy!" she whispered, happily, stretching out a hand to touch me.
"My little son!"

"An' I been sittin' here all the time!" said I.

"All the time?" she said. "But I've been so sick, dear, I haven't
noticed much. And 'tis so dark."

"No, mum; 'tis not so very