Shifting Winds | Page 7

arms.
"She ain't dead surely, sir?" inquired the housekeeper.
"No, bin saved from a wreck an' half drownded! She'll come to in a

bit--tak' care of 'er."
Gaff turned on his heel as he hastily uttered these words, ran down the
garden walk and disappeared, leaving Mrs Niven standing at the open
door in a state of speechless amazement, with the unconscious Emmie
in her arms and pressed, by reason of an irresistible impulse of
motherly sympathy, to her bosom.
CHAPTER THREE.
THE COTTAGE AT COVE INVADED--DAN HORSEY SPEAKS
"TOORKO" TO RUSSIANS, AND FAILS TO ENLIGHTEN THEM.
Retracing his steps hastily to the village of Cove, Stephen Gaff sought
out his own humble cottage, which, during his absence on his frequent
voyages, was left under the charge of his fisherman brother-in-law,
John Furby. Presenting himself at the door, he created the family
sensation which has been described at the end of the first chapter.
The first violent demonstrations of surprise and joy over, Mrs Gaff
dragged her husband into a small closet, which was regarded by the
household in the light of a spare room, and there compelled him to
change his garments. While this change was being made the volatile
Bu'ster, indignant at being bolted out, kicked the door with his heel
until he became convinced that no good or evil could result from the
process. Then his active mind reverted to the forbidden loaf, and he
forthwith drew a chair below the shelf on which it lay. Upon the chair
he placed a three-legged stool, and upon the stool an eight-inch block,
which latter being an unstable foundation, caused Billy to lose his
balance when he got upon it. The erection instantly gave way, and fell
with a hideous crash. Tottie, who stood near, gazing at her brother's
misdeeds, as was her wont, in awe-stricken admiration, was
overwhelmed in the debris.
Nothing daunted, the Bu'ster "returned to the charge," and fell a second
time,--with the loaf, however, in his arms.
"Hah!" exclaimed Mrs Gaff, issuing from the spare room, and rushing

at her offspring with uplifted hand.
"Stop, lass," said Stephen, arresting her, and catching up the boy,
whom he placed on his knee as he sat down in a chair beside the fire.
"How are 'ee, Billy, my lad?"
Billy, glaring defiance at his mother, who returned the glare with
interest in the shape of a united shake of the fist and head, replied that
he was "fuss'rate."
Tottie having immediately claimed, and been put in possession of the
other knee, divided her father's attention, and while the goodwife
busied herself in preparing the supper, which had been originally
intended for "Uncle John," a quick fire of question and reply of the
most varied and unconnected sort was kept up by the trio at the fire, in
tones, and accompanied by hugs and gestures, which proved beyond all
doubt that Stephen Gaff was a father of the right kind, and that the little
ones hailed him as an inestimable addition to their household joys.
It would be unjust to Mrs Gaff were I to permit the reader to suppose
that she was a disagreeable contrast to the father. She was true-hearted
and loving, but she had been born and bred in the midst of a class of
people whose manners are as rough as their calling, and was by no
means tender or considerate. A terrific scream, or a knock-down slap,
from Mrs Gaff, was regarded both by giver and recipient in much the
same light as is a mild reproof in more polite society.
"Wrecked again, Stephen," said Mrs Gaff, pausing in her occupation,
and recurring to the remark made by her husband when he first entered
the room, "where have 'ee bin wrecked this time?"
"A'most at the door, lass, on the Black Rock."
"Ay, an' was all the rest saved?" inquired the wife.
"No, none of 'em. A' lost save one, a little child."
"A child, lad!" exclaimed the wife in surprise; "what have 'ee done wi'

it?"
"Took it to its friends."
As he said this the sailor gave his wife a look which induced her to
refrain from further questioning on that subject.
"An' who saved ye, Stephen?"
"God saved me," replied the man, earnestly.
"True, lad; but was there none o' the boys there to lend a hand?"
"No, none. It puzzled me a bit," said Stephen, "for the lads are wont to
be on the look-out on a night like this."
"It needn't puzzle ye, then," replied the wife, as she set a chair for her
husband at the table, and poured out a cup of tea, "for there's bin two
sloops an' a schooner on the rocks off the pier-head for three hours past,
an' a' the lads are out at them,--Uncle