"You hadn't HEARD from him? Ain't he been writin' you right along?"
"No. The fact is he left me two years ago without even sayin' good- by, and--and I thought he had gone for good. But he hadn't," with a sigh, "he hadn't. And he wanted to talk with me. That's why he took the other road--so's he'd have more time to talk, I s'pose."
"Humph! Emeline, answer me true: Wa'n't you goin' to Denboro to get--to get a divorce from me?"
"A divorce? A divorce from YOU? Seth Bascom, I never heard such--"
She rose from her seat against the rail.
"Set down," ordered her husband sharply. "You set down and keep down."
She stared, gasped, and resumed her seat. Seth gazed straight ahead into the blackness. He swallowed once or twice, and his hands tightened on the spokes of the wheel.
"That--that feller there," nodding grimly toward the groaning figure at the pumps, "told me himself that him and you had agreed to get a divorce from me--to get it right off. He give me to understand that you expected him, 'twas all settled and that was why he'd come to Eastboro. That's what he told me this afternoon on the depot platform."
Mrs. Bascom again sprang up.
"Set down!" commanded Seth.
"I won't."
"Yes, you will. Set down." And she did.
"Seth," she cried, "did he--did Bennie tell you that? Did he? Why, I never heard such a--I never! Seth, it ain't true, not a word of it. Did you think I'd get a divorce? Me? A self-respectin' woman?
And from you?"
"You turned me adrift."
"I didn't. You turned yourself adrift. I was in trouble, bound by a promise I give my dyin' husband, to give his brother a home while I had one. I didn't want to do it; I didn't want him with us-- there, where we'd been so happy. But I couldn't say anything. I couldn't turn him out. And you wouldn't, you--"
She was interrupted. From beneath the Daisy M.'s keel came a long, scraping noise. The little schooner shook, and then lay still. The waves, no longer large, slapped her sides.
Mrs. Bascom, startled, uttered a little scream. Bennie D., knocked to his knees, roared in fright. Seth alone was calm. Nothing, at that moment, could alarm or even surprise him.
"Humph!" he observed, "we're aground somewheres. And in the Harbor.
We're safe and sound now, I cal'late. Emeline, go below where it's dry and stay there. Don't talk--go. As for you," leaving the wheel and striding toward the weary inventor, "you can stop pumpin'-- unless," with a grim smile, "you like it too well to quit--and set down right where you be. Right where you be, I said! Don't you move till I say the word. WHEN I say it, jump!"
He went forward, lowered the jib, and coiled the halliards. Then, lantern in hand, he seated himself in the bows. After a time he filled his pipe, lit it by the aid of the lantern, and smoked.
There was silence aboard the Daisy M.
The wind died away altogether. The fog gradually disappeared. From somewhere not far away a church clock struck the hour. Seth heard it and smiled. Turning his head he saw in the distance the Twin-Lights burning steadily. He smiled again.
Gradually, slowly, the morning came. The last remnant of low- hanging mist drifted away. Before the bows of the stranded schooner appeared a flat shore with a road, still partially covered by the receding tide, along its border. Fish houses and anchored dories became visible. Behind them were hills, and over them roofs and trees and steeples.
A step sounded behind the watcher in the bows. Mrs. Bascom was at his elbow.
"Why, Seth!" she cried, "why, Seth! it's Eastboro, ain't it? We're close to Eastboro."
Seth nodded. "It's Eastboro," he said. "I cal'lated we must be there or thereabouts. With that no'theast breeze to help us we couldn't do much else but fetch up at the inner end of the Back Harbor."
She laid her hand timidly on his arm.
"Seth," she whispered, "what should we have done without you? You saved our lives."
He swung about and faced her. "Emeline," he said, "we've both been awful fools. I've been the biggest one, I guess. But I've learned my lesson--I've swore off--I told you I'd prove I was a man. Do you think I've been one tonight?"
"Seth!"
"Well, do you? Or," with a gesture toward the "genius" who was beginning to take an interest in his surroundings, "do you like that kind better?"
"Seth," reproachfully, "I never liked him better. If you had--"
She was interrupted by her brother-in-law, who came swaggering toward them. With the sight of land and safety, Bennie D.'s courage returned; also, his old assurance.
"Humph!" he observed. "Well, sister, we are safe, I really believe.
In spite of," with a glare at the lightkeeper, "this person's insane recklessness and brutality. Now I will take you ashore and out of his presence."
Seth rose to his feet.
"Didn't I tell you," he demanded, "not to move till I said the word?
Emeline, stay right here."
Bennie D. stared at the speaker; then at his sister-in-law.
"Sister," he cried, in growing alarm, "sister, come! come! we're going ashore, I tell you. What are you waiting for?"
Seth put his arm about the lady.
"She is goin' ashore," he said. "But she's goin' with me, and she's goin' to stay with me. Ain't you, Emeline?"
The lady looked up into his face and then down again. "If you want me, Seth," she said.
Bennie D. sprang forward. "Emeline," he shrieked, "what do you mean? Are you going to leave me? Have you forgotten--"
"She ain't forgot nothin'," broke in Seth. "But YOU'RE forgettin' what I told you. Will you go aft there and set down, or shall I make you?"
"But--but, Emeline--sister--have you forgotten your promise to your dying husband? To my brother? You promised to give me a home as long as you owned one."
Then Seth played his trump.
"She don't own any home," he declared triumphantly. "She sold her house, and she ain't got any home--except the one I'm goin' to give her. And if you ever dare to show your head inside of THAT, I'll--I'll heave you over both lights. If you think I'm foolin', just try and see. Now then, Emeline."
And, with his wife in his arms, Seth Atkins--Seth Atkins Bascom--CAPTAIN Seth Atkins Bascom--swung over the rail and waded to land.