The
thought that each possessed the other was enjoyment that satisfied, and
both were happy. Each lived as in dreamland, and scarcely observed even
the daily runs made by the steamer. The death by accident of a sailor,
and his strange burial at sea, served only for a brief time to arrest a
happiness made complete by each other's voice and presence. The two weeks
on the ocean came and went as softly as flowers unfold and disappear.
Thus far, married life had been ideal.
It was after eleven o'clock, and anxious passengers were pacing the
decks, hoping to sight native land before retiring. Suddenly the officer
on the bridge discerned the dim Fire Island Light, bearing north by west,
twenty miles distant. Ten minutes later, five points on the port bow, a
pilot boat was sighted. Her mast-head light was visible, also the torch,
which soaked in turpentine, burnt brightly at intervals.
The steamer signals, "We want a pilot," by burning a blue light on the
bridge, and bears down on the pilot schooner. The moon reveals enormous
figures, with a heavy dot beneath, on the mainsail of the schooner. Over
the rail goes the yawl, followed by the oarsman and pilot, whose turn
it is to go ashore.
Pages:
280
281
282
283
284
285
286
287
288
289
290
291
292
293
294
295
296
297
298
299
300
301
302
303
304