Flotsam [pp. 46-52]

Flotsam.
the two of them. The moon had vanished, and darkness again prevailed.
Suddenly the long rays of a lantern
flickered along the shore.
"Flotsam!- Doctor! are you there?
What's wrong?" cried the Captain's
stentorian tones, changing from simple
anxiety, to horror and dismay with his
next exclamation: "For God's sake,
boys, hold on till I come!"
A coil of rope he had brought with
him was flung out, and Flotsam managed
to sieze it and secure it around Vane's
body and his own; a minute later, and
the iron muscles of the old man were
brought successfully into play to land
them, but he shook his head when he
looked into Vane's unconscious face.
' I'm afraid it's too late," he said.
"Flotsam, lad, go you up to the house
and get things ready; make up a bed
on the sofa in front of the fire; ask
Lilly to have hot water and blankets;
don't scare her, poor little gal-she
thinks a sight of the Doctor."
How much she thought of him, Lilly
only found out when she knelt beside
his motionless form, and secretly pressed her lips and her wet cheek to his
cold hand under the covering. The
feeble hand stirred, as if that electric
touch had warmed anew its frozen lifecurrent; the closed lids quivered, and
a low, broken sigh told the Captain his
vigorous efforts had not been in vain.
And so the Doctor was saved; but
what of Flotsam?
Nobody knew where he was. At the
first sign of Vane's restoration he
slipped away, and was seen no more.
The next morning when the Captain,
supposing that he had overslept, went
to call him, he found that his room had
not been occupied in the night. He
sought everywhere- in the boathouse,
in his favorite haunts along the shore
and under the bridge, and even in the
green arbor he had built for Lilly, where
so many of their childhood's hours had
been spent. Long was the search continued, but he was not found. From
an unknown source he had come to
them, into unknown regions he had
vanished, leaving no trace behind.
Peacefully between its green banks
the broad river runs; the old boathouse
is there, and there the light boats dance
at their moorings still. And down at
Black Bend the current foams and
seethes, and is torn by the cruel edges
of the rocks. But is it only in a dream
that a white face pillowed on the bed
below turns upward to the stars that
shine dimly through the turbulent
water, like the promises of God upon a
troubled heart?
Fannie M. P. Deas.
i
[Jan.