and that instead of dwelling down in coral caves and marble hallsat the bottom of the green sea, where the sunbeams flash by day, and themoon shines all the way down at night, these mermen live at the bottomof the darkest, deepest pits of the ocean, where there is nothing butmud and slime, and where the young sea-serpents and the devil-fish grow.No, the beautiful mermaids I don't think ever do any harm, but themermen are bad--bad!"
"Granny," said Effie to Mrs Grindlay, after a pause, "tell us a prettystory to dream upon."
"Did I ever tell you the story of _But--but--but_?"
"No, never. Do tell us about `_But--But--But_,' and begin, `Once upon atime.'"
"Well, then, once upon a time there lived, far away up on the top of amountain, a little old, old woman, and this little old woman had a verylovely young daughter, who lived with her in a cave on the mountain top.And one day her mother said,--
"`Dear love, all the provisions are done. I must go away down to theplains and buy some. I have no money, but shall take a small bagful ofprecious stones.'
"So away she went, leaning on her stick and carrying a basket. Shelooked very feeble, her old cloak was ragged and worn, and, as she creptalong, she kept saying to herself, `_but--but--but_.'
"Well, at last she got down to the village, and entered a grocer's shop.
"`What can I get for you, ma'am?' said the grocer.
"`I want some nice ham, and some nice eggs, and some fresh butter. Ihave no money--but--but--but--'
"`Oh! get out of here with your "buts,"' cried the man. `Who wouldtrust the like of you, with your old age and your rags?'
"So he chased her away.
"Then the old woman crept away to the fishmonger's.
"`I want,' she said, `some nice fresh salmon, and some nice prawns, anda delicious lobster. I've no money--but--but--but--'
"`Oh, get out of here!' cried the fishmonger, `with your "buts." Whowould trust you with your old age and your rags?'
"And he chased her down the street.
"Then she entered the butcher's.
"`Give me a tender joint of mutton,' she said. `I've no money--but--but--but--'
"`Oh!' cried the butcher, `get out of here, with your "buts." Who wouldtrust you with your old age and your rags?'
"And he called his dogs, and they chased away the poor old woman, andtore her cloak worse than before.
"Then she went into the baker's.
"`I want a loaf or two of bread,' she said. `I've no money, but--but--but--'
"`Don't say another word,' said the baker. `Here are two nice new ones,and some new-laid eggs. Don't thank me. I respect old age, and I pityrags.'
"So the old, old woman crept back to the mountain top, and she and herbeautiful daughter had a nice supper.
"And now the strangest part of the story begins, for although thebaker's trade increased every day, his store of flour appeared never todiminish. He got richer and richer every month, and was soon in aposition to buy a pretty little cottage and furnish it in the prettieststyle imaginable; and when he had done so he went and laid his fortuneat the feet of Mary the Maid of the Mill. In other words, he wentwooing the miller's daughter.
"After a modest pause for thought and consideration she consented,saying as she did so,--
"`I don't marry you for sake of your money, John, because I have quite adeal of gold and silver.'
"`What! you?' said John.
"`Yes, me,' said Mary.
"`But--but--but--' said John.
"`But, how did I get it? Well, I'll tell you. A poor old woman,crawling on a stick and all in rags, called the other night, when thewind blew high and the snow was falling fast, and because I took her in,and sheltered her--just only what anybody would do, John--she left me abagful of pretty stones. She said she didn't want them, as she knew ahill where they grew, and I took them to the jeweller's, and they paidme so much for them that I am quite wealthy, and I'm going to marry forlove.'
"So John was indeed a happy man.
"But that same evening, first the butcher called, and then thefishmonger, and then the grocer, all dressed up in their Sunday clothes.
"So John hid behind a curtain, and as soon as they came into the room,all three proposed to marry Mary the Maid of the Mill.
"Then Mary looked down at them, and laughed and said,--
"`Really, gentlemen, you do me too much honour, but--but--but--'
"`But _I'm_ the happy man,' cried John suddenly, popping out from behindthe curtain.
"`_You_!' they all shouted in disdain.
"`Yes, I. I'm very sorry for you, but--but--but--'
"`But what?' they all cried.
"`But I'm going to kick you all out,' said John; `that's the "but."'
"Then Mary ran and opened the door, and as they ran out John kicked thegrocer, then the fishmonger, and last of all the butcher, and they allfell in a heap on the pavement.
"Well, Mary and John got married, and a merrier wedding never was in thevillage, and when it was all over a gilded coach drove up to the doorand took them away to spend the honeymoon in a beautiful seasidevillage.
"And the old lady was in the carriage and her pretty daughter, but theragged old cloak was gone, and in its place a robe of ermine andscarlet.
"And Mary and John lived happy together ever after."
"Of course," said Effie, "the old lady was a good fairy."
"Oh yes!" said Mrs Grindlay, "but--but--but--"
"But what, Mrs Grindlay?"
"But it's time for bed."
------------------------------------------------------------------------
What a terrible night it was. The wind blew and roared around thebuilding till the whole island seemed to shake, the waves beat anddashed against the rocks, and the spray flew far over the lighthouseitself, and every now and then, high over the howling of the storm andthe boom of the seas, rose that strange, eerie scream, like the cry ofthe sea-bird, but it sounded far more plaintive and pitiful, like--
"The drowning cry Of some strong swimmer in his agony."
And one sentence was mingled with the prayers of Leonard and Effiebefore they sought their couch--
"God save all at sea to-night."
Book 1--CHAPTER EIGHT.
"THE WRECK! THE WRECK!"
"The breakers were right beneath her bows, She drifted a dreary wreck, And a whooping billow swept the crew Like icicles from her deck.
"She struck where the white and fleecy waves Looked soft as carded wool; But the cruel rocks, they gored her sides Like the horns of an angry bull."
Longfellow.
Scene: The lighthouse island on the morning after the storm. The seaall around it, still covered with foam-capped waves. The wind dyingaway, but rising every now and then in uncertain gusts. No vessels insight, but a long, low, rakish craft wedged in the rocks beneath thelighthouse, and fast breaking up. The whole scene bleak and desolate inthe extreme.
"It is the lugger, sure enough," said old Grindlay. "Heigho! what anawful affair, to be sure! And there can't be a living soul on board.Captain Bland and all must have gone to their account."
"And she is breaking up," said his wife. "Goodness grant she maydisappear entirely before the young ones see her."
"Oh!" cried Leonard, rushing into the kitchen; "the wreck! the wreck!It is the lugger. Oh the poor robber chief!"
"He is dead, my dear," said Mrs Grindlay solemnly. "_No_, no; I cansee him from our window, where Effie is crying. He is under the wreckof the masts amidships and alive, for he waved his hand to us. Oh, savehim, Mr Grindlay, if you can!"
"Ah, lad, I fear nothing can be done!"
"I'll go, I'll go! Effie is not afraid; she says I may go. I've goneover worse rocks than that with a rope. He is alive, and I will savehim. Quick, bring the rope, and an axe and saw."
"The boy is a hero," exclaimed Mrs Grindlay. "Do as he bids you, oldman; the lad is in God's own hands."
"I am no hero. I only
want to save the captain. He could not helpkidnapping us, and he was so kind to Effie."
The forepart of the lugger was wedged into a cave, close under a blackbeetling cliff, fully fifty feet in height. It was over here Leonardwas going. There was no denying him. He had already thrown down theaxe and saw to the wreck, and now, both Mr and Mrs Grindlay assisting,the rope was wound twice round an iron stanchion at the cliff top, whichmight have been used before for a similar purpose, or by men in searchof eggs. Leonard's legs were through the