As the Tobins drew near the Hampton home, they heard the sound of music accompanied by singing. They stopped at the foot of the verandah steps and listened. The blind of the parlour window was up, and they could see Mrs. Hampton at the piano, with John and the fair visitor standing by her side. It was an old familiar song they were singing, and it sounded especially sweet to the three listeners outside.
"Say, I haven't heard anything like that fer years," the captain remarked. "It strikes me jist right. Let's stay here."
"We shall do no such thing," his wife replied. "It's not good manners."
"Isn't she pretty?" Flo whispered. "And how happy she and John seem to be."
Mrs. Tobin made no reply, but led the way up the steps, knocked at the door, opened it and walked in. This was her usual custom, and Mrs. Hampton always did the same when she visited the Tobins. The music and singing suddenly ceased as the visitors entered, and an expression of annoyance swept for an instant over John's face as he turned and saw Mrs. Tobin standing in the doorway.
"Excuse us for interrupting you," the latter began, "but we thought we'd make a neighbourly call to-night since Sam'l's home. We're all anxious to meet your company."
Mrs. Hampton had now left the piano and was advancing to meet her neighbours. She, too, was annoyed, for she knew only too well how Mrs. Tobin would make every effort to ferret out the secret of Miss Randall's presence. But as they had come, she had to make the best of it.
"It is thoughtful of you to come over," she replied. "We were enjoying a little music. This is Miss Bean, Mrs. Tobin. I feel sure you will be pleased to meet her."
Mrs. Tobin at once stepped forward and reached out her hand.
"Very glad I am to make your acquaintance, Miss. It's not often we see a stranger in this place. I hope you'll come over to see us."
Jess took Mrs. Tobin's hand in hers and was about to reply, when, happening to glance across the room, she saw the captain standing near the door. She recognised him at once, and her face turned white, while her body trembled. Mrs. Tobin believed that this agitation was due to her strenuous grip, and she quickly dropped the girl's hand.
"Excuse me, Miss," she apologised. "I didn't intend to hurt you. But when I shake hands I mean it. Now, some people just touch the tips of your fingers as if they were afraid you'd bite. That may be the fashionable way, but I like the good old handshake."
"I never let you shake hands with me, Mrs. Tobin," John laughingly told her. "I know you too well."
"And I guess you should," was the retort. "You often felt my hands when you were a boy, didn't you? I had to use them more than once, especially when you took my apples."
"Come, come, Mrs. Tobin, you must not give me away. Let us forget the past. I want the captain to meet Miss Bean. He looks as if he would like to run away. Come here, sir. You were always nervous in the presence of women, I know. But Miss Bean is perfectly harmless."
John was well aware why the captain wished to get out of the house. Knowing Mrs. Tobin as well as he did, he felt certain that her husband was most anxious to keep from her the story of his experience with Miss Randall on the "Eb and Flo." It amused him, and yet he felt it was his duty not only to the captain but to Jess as well not to divulge the secret. He had noticed the girl's white face and trembling hands, and surmised the cause.
The captain was indeed in a quandary. At the first glimpse of Miss Randall he was seized with a great fear. How could he face her in the presence of his wife? Would she recognise him, and call him by name? If she did, then he would be at once amid serious breakers on a stormy shore. He wanted to retreat, to get away from the house as fast as possible. But there was no escape, for he heard John telling him to come and meet the young woman. For a few seconds he stood as if rooted to the floor, staring straight before him. Notwithstanding her own agitation, Jess could hardly keep from smiling at the captain's confusion. She felt sorry for him, so acting upon the impulse of the instant, she crossed the room and held out her hand.
"I am very glad to meet you, Captain," she began, "You have a boat of your very own, so I understand. You will take me for a trip on the river some day, will you not? I have always longed for a sail in a wood-boat."
"Sure, sure, Miss, I'll take ye," the captain replied, much delighted at her action. "But mebbe ye'd better ask me wife. She's mighty pertic'ler who I take sailin', 'specially when it comes to women."
"Oh, I am sure Mrs. Tobin won't mind," Jess assured. "She's too sensible, I know. And, besides, I'm quite young."
A grim smile overspread Mrs. Tobin's face as she listened to this conversation. She was pleased with the girl, and anxious to learn more about her.
"I don't mind Sam'l taking you on the boat," she said, "and if you live along the river you can go with him as well as not. But I never heard of the Bean family before. I know about most of the people from St. John to Fredericton."
"Miss Bean's home is in the city," John explained. "She was visiting some friends at the quarry, and was hit on the head by a stone. I happened to be there at the time, and so brought her home with me last night. You heard about that other accident there, I suppose?"
"No; what accident?"
"A truck load of stone with two men on board struck a cow, which was standing on the track. The cow was killed, and one of the men was badly hurt."
"My, oh, my!" Mrs. Tobin exclaimed. "I never heard the like of such things as are taking place these days. With that poor girl drowned at Benton's wharf, another injured at the quarry, a cow killed, and a man hurt. The world must surely be coming to an end, for the Bible says there will be terrible things happening in the last days."
"Oh, I guess the world will wag along for some time yet," John laughingly replied. "Wouldn't you like to hear some music, Mrs. Tobin?"
They were all seated now, the captain as near the door as possible, that he might beat a hasty retreat should the situation become too embarrassing. He breathed more freely when music was mentioned.
"Let's have something lively, John," he suggested. "I haven't heard a real break-down fer a long time. Give us 'We won't go home 'til mornin',' or something like that."
"Sam'l, Sam'l," his wife protested. "I'm surprised at you. With so many terrible things happening around us, we should have hymns instead of songs. I'd like to have 'Oh, Day of Wrath, that Dreadful Day.' That's far more appropriate."
"Ugh!" the captain grunted. "That hymn 'ud give anyone the blues. What's the use of dyin' before yer time? But if ye want to sing hymns, let's start off with 'Here I'll Raise my Ebenezer.' It's a dandy, an' about the only one I know. But fer pity sakes, cut out the 'Day of Wrath.' I know too much about that already. Sometimes we have the night of wrath as well as the day at our house, eh, Martha?"
Everybody in the room smiled except Mrs. Tobin. She was deeply offended, and her wrath was about to descend when a distant roll of thunder startled her. The captain chuckled as he saw its effect upon his wife. He knew how a thunder storm always frightened her. In fact, it was about the only thing of which she was afraid.
"Guess the Day of Wrath's comin', Martha, sooner than ye expected," he chuckled. "Thar it is agin, an' nearer this time."
Mrs. Hampton rose and closed the window. Just at that instant a vivid flash of lightning almost blinded her, followed immediately by a terrific crash which shook the house. Mrs. Tobin screamed and leaped from her chair.
"Oh, oh!" she moaned. "Isn't it awful! We'll all be killed!"
"Ah, keep still, Martha," the captain chided. "We're all right. It's mighty lucky we have sich a comfortable place as this. Now, if we were out on the river----"
He suddenly ceased, while an expression of consternation swept across his face. A peculiar gurgle escaped his lips as he seized his hat and sprang to his feet.
"The 'Eb an' Flo'!" he gasped. "I fergot all about her, an' the sail's up! That boy'll be asleep, an' won't hear the storm. Oh, Lord!"
The next minute he was out of the house, and hurrying as fast as he could toward the shore. He had gone but a short way when the rain struck him, and soon he was drenched to the skin. He could only direct his course by the flashes of lightning, and after each illumination the darkness was more intense than ever. As he neared the shore, he stopped and peered anxiously forward, and by the next vivid streak which followed a terrific crash, he caught one fleeting glimpse of the "Eb and Flo." She was still there, and her sail was down. He breathed a sigh of relief, and again started forward toward the small boat pulled upon the shore. He had taken but a few steps, however, when his foot caught and twisted upon a root, causing him to fall heavily forward full upon his face. With a cry of distress, he scrambled to his feet, and tried to stand, but so severe was the pain that he was forced to sink down again upon the ground. That he had wrenched his ankle, he was certain, and he groaned whenever he moved. But he must reach the "Eb and Flo," for the storm was increasing in violence, and he was sure that the boat could not hold up against such a tempest. He tried to crawl in his endeavour to reach the shore. The perspiration stood out in beads upon his forehead as he worked himself along, but so intense was the pain in his foot that ere long he was forced to give up in despair. And as he lay there he kept his eyes fixed in the direction of the river, catching brief glimpses of the "Eb and Flo" as she tugged hard at her anchor.
A more vivid gleam than formerly presently illuminated the river, and as the captain looked, he emitted a hoarse cry. The boat was drifting! She was farther from the shore he could plainly tell. Then blackness closed down once again, leaving the helpless man racked with the agony of suspense. The next flash revealed the boat farther away, with sail up, and to all appearance being driven full upon the opposite shore.
"Oh, Lord!" he groaned. "She's done fer now! An' it's high tide, too! We'll never git her off them mud flats! How in time did Eben hist that sail in sich a storm? Why, it was all that both of us could do when it was calm."
The storm now was at its height, and so incessant was the lightning that the captain could see nothing more of the boat so dazzling was the illumination. The rain pelted upon him, and at times he groaned with pain.
"Guess I'll have to spend the night here," he muttered. "This is the worst fix I ever got into. Wish to goodness I could git some word to Martha. But she'll think I'm on board that boat by this time. I wonder what she'd say if she knew I was layin' here, helpless as a log. But, then, it might be worse. I'm alive, me leg ain't broke, an' the lightnin' hasn't hit me. I've got much to be thankful fer yet, even though the 'Eb an' Flo' does go on the flats. Old Parson Westmore used to say that when things got black always count yer blessin's, an' ye'll be surprised to find how many ye really have left. So cheer up, Sam'l Tobin, it'll take more'n a thunder storm an' a sprained ankle to knock ye out, blamed if it won't."
Under the inspiration of this resolve, he began to hum his favourite tune. It made him feel better, and soon he was singing at the top of his voice:
"Here I'll raise my Ebenezer, Hither by Thy grace I'll come, And I trust in Thy good pleasure, Safely to arrive at home."
"My, them's great words!" he ejaculated, when he had finished. "They've put new life into me already. Guess I'll sing 'em over agin. There's nuthin' like a song in the night fer a sprained ankle."
As he lay there the storm gradually beat itself out, and rolled away in the distance. From where he was lying he could look up at his own house. Often he had turned his eyes in that direction, hoping to see a light in the window. But not the faintest gleam appeared to cheer his loneliness, so he knew that Martha and Flo must have remained at the Hamptons. No doubt they would go home when the storm ceased. After what seemed to him hours, he was rewarded by the sight of a light flickering among the trees. It was a lantern, he was certain, and he knew that John must be showing the visitors home. He watched it longingly as it neared the house. Could he make himself heard? Rising with difficulty to his knees, he lifted up his voice in several loud calls for help. Then he watched, while his heart beat fast within him. Again he called, and the light suddenly stopped. This was encouraging, so with a great effort he gave one more mighty whoop, ere he sank back exhausted upon the ground.