Mrs. Snow took charge at once of the tired men, and the overtaxed Miss Patience was glad enough to have her do it. Luther Davis was in bed, and Captain Eri, after an hour's sojourn in the same snug harbor, had utterly refused to stay there longer, and now, dressed in a suit belonging to the commandant, was stretched upon a sofa in the front room.
The Captain was the most surprised of all when Mrs. Snow appeared. He fairly gasped when she first entered the room, and seemed to be struck speechless, for he said scarcely a word while she dosed him with hot drinks, rubbed his shoulder—the bone was not broken, but there was a bruise there as big as a saucer—with the liniment, and made him generally comfortable. He watched her every movement with a sort of worshipful wonder, and seemed to be thinking hard.
Captain Davis, although feeling a little better, was still very weak, and his sister and Captain Perez were with him. Josiah soon returned to the Mayo homestead to act as ferryman for Dr. Palmer when the latter should arrive, and Ralph, finding that there was nothing more that he could do, went back to the cable station. The storm had abated somewhat and the wind had gone down. Captain Eri and Mrs. Snow were alone in the front room, and, for the first time since she entered the house, the lady from Nantucket sat down to rest. Then the Captain spoke.
“Mrs. Snow,” he said gravely, “I don't believe you've changed your clothes sence you got here. You must have been soaked through, too. I wish you wouldn't take such risks. You hadn't ought to have come over here a day like this, anyway. Not but what the Lord knows it's good to have you here,” he added hastily.
The housekeeper seemed surprised.
“Cap'n Eri,” she said, “I b'lieve if you was dyin' you'd worry for fear somebody else wouldn't be comf'table while you was doing it. 'Twould be pretty hard for me to change my clothes,” she added, with a laugh, “seein' that there probably ain't anything but men's clothes in the place.” Then, with a sigh, “Poor fellers, they won't need 'em any more.”
“That's so. And they were all alive and hearty this mornin'. It's an awful thing for Luther. Has he told anything yit 'bout how it come to happen?”
“Yes, a little. The schooner was from Maine, bound to New York. Besides her own crew she had some Italians aboard, coal-handlers, they was, goin' over on a job for the owner. Cap'n Davis says he saw right away that the lifeboat would be overloaded, but he had to take 'em all, there wa'n't time for a second trip. He made the schooner's crew and the others lay down in the boat where they wouldn't hinder the men at the oars, but when they got jest at the tail of the shoal, where the sea was heaviest, them Italians lost their heads and commenced to stand up and yell, and fust thing you know, she swung broadside on and capsized. Pashy says Luther don't say much more, but she jedges, from what he does say, that some of the men hung on with him for a while, but was washed off and drownded.”
“That's right; there was four or five there when we saw her fust. 'Twas Lute's grip on the centerboard that saved him. It's an awful thing—awful!”
“Yes, and he would have gone, too, if it hadn't been for you. And you talk about MY takin' risks!”