Motion Picture Story Magazine (Aug 1911-Jan 1912)

92 TEE MOTION PICTURE STORY MAGAZINE white-caps were chopping at our side. I shouted to the now frightened skipper to luff and to change seats with me, but with tenacious nervousness he clung to the oar, and had I not sprung astern and headed her into the wind, his inexpert handling would have soon capsized us. As the scud of clouds spread out fan-wise to windward, and the tiny ark heeled with laboring tremors in the fluky wind, I saw that a squall was heading for us all too quickly, and that the nearest land under the lee of the Head was a good league away. ' ' I will not weary you with circumstances of that terrible white squall — as savage as a tropic whirlwind. Our erstwhile commander — a piteous creature, indeed — lay prone, clutching a thwart and crying out to his Creator. Janet sat-pale and shivering slightly, yet, as the frail boat tossed like a chip on the foaming seas, she kept her steady eyes ever upon mine. Something there must have assured her, for she uttered never a word of fear or supplication. "It must have been nigh seven of the clock when we reached the lee of the Head and beached the leaking boat on a bit of salt meadow. The footing near the shore was very treacherous, a rotted grass with heavy mud or pools beneath, and as Trimble was well-nigh useless from fright, I picked up Janet in my arms and bade him follow as he could. We reached the highroad just as darkness closed down upon us, and so on by a wagon to Portsmouth. ' ' Tho the squall was a thing of terror while it lasted, and coasting men speak of it to this day, it led to a happy issue — for me, at least. Mr. Trimble was entirely cured of his sea propensities, and his busy-body antics, which had ever kept Janet and me apart, disappeared from that day. I took up the study of floriculture under her able tuition, and if I was a dullard among the plants, 'twas the fault of the havoc she was working in my heart. The look of her sea-deep eyes and the fine coral of her young cheeks, with a chestnut curl caress ing, quite outbid the harebells and arethusa of her garden paths. "I did not gauge how far things had gone between us until the thing happened which tore us roughly asunder. It was the recall to the ship. Captain Blackwood had arrived at London with the news that the allies, Gravina and Villeneuve, had slipped Out of Ferrol and with a mighty fleet of thirty-four sail were even now at Cadiz. ' ' At six of the clock on the morning of September 14th Nelson had returned to Portsmouth. A few minutes after eleven his flag was again hoisted aboard the Victory, and the recall had gone out to its officers. I had barely time to pack my portmanteau and to hurry with Janet and Trimble to the landing-place. It was there, with clasped hands, I bade her a silent farewell. Could fearless, deep eyes plead her cause — and mine — hers had told me enough. "As I turned to enter the waiting boat at the stairs a loud cheering burst forth from the collected multitude, as they pressed forward to obtain a closer sight of Nelson. Many were in tears and many knelt down before him and blest him as he passed. The slender seaman — his empty coatsleeve pinned to his breast — made a smiling passage thru them. ".'I had their huzzahs before,' he said, turning to Captain Hardy, 'now I have their hearts. ' "The wind outside, being west-sou 'west, was dead foul, and it was not until the 17th that the Victory lay off Plymouth. Here it fell nearly calm, and two seventy-fours, creeping out slowly, joined us from the harbor. It seemed as if the wind would never freshen again, and that fate was against our enterprise. For 'most a fortnight we made southward — our sails scarcely full — ever on the lookout for our main fleet under Collingwood. Every care was taken to lull the enemy: not a color shown, nor salute fired, nor a signal run up. "At length, as the sun was setting over a flat sea, we came upon the waiting fleet, and a gallant showing