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Updated: May 10, 2025
In course of time, the mail-boat cleared our harbour of wrecked folk; and within three weeks of that day my father was cast away on Ill Wind Head: being alone on the way to Preaching Cove with the skiff, at the moment, for fish to fill out the bulk of our first shipment to the market at St. John's, our own catch having disappointed the expectation of us every one.
"A skipper on a mail-boat is the biggest fool that goes to sea." The liner did not reach quarantine until after sundown, hence remained there through the night. As she was lifting her anchor in the morning, preparatory to steaming up to her dock, the crew of the Rosebud, refreshed by food and sleep, but still weak and nerveless, came on deck to witness a harrowing sight.
Both the prisoners and the wounded were removed between midnight and morning to White House, and as I had despatches to forward by the mail-boat, I rode down in an ambulance, that contained six wounded men besides.
"'Tis sad, lass," he said, his face aquiver with sympathy, "t' think that we've but one doctor t' cure the sick, an' him on the mail-boat. 'Tis wonderful sad t' think o' that! 'Tis a hard case," he went on, "but if a man only thunk hard enough he'd find a way t' mend it. Sure, what ought t' be mended can be mended. 'Tis the way o' the world.
It was necessary to put up with such lives as long as there was no way out, no possible issue. He even alluded once more to mail-boat services on the East coast of Africa and young Powell had to tell him once more that he knew nothing about them. "Every fortnight, I thought you said," insisted Mr. Smith. He stirred, seemed to detach himself from the rail with difficulty.
Then with delight I said that I would fly the big flag in welcome when the returning mail-boat came puffing through the Gate. And scampering down the Watchman went the doctor and I, hand in hand, mistrust fled, to the very threshold of my father's house, where my sister waited, smiling to know that all went well again.
It seemed as though Mr Smith could not make up his mind to go below. He repeated himself. Again he spoke of lives which one was ashamed of. It was necessary to put up with such lives as long as there was no way out, no possible issue. He even alluded once more to mail-boat services on the East coast of Africa and young Powell had to tell him once more that he knew nothing about them.
"We'll have a hotel here yet, and supply passengers by the mail-boat with hot dinners." "Sposum me have knife, I help you. Leave waghon home yesterday for hould woman make baskets," said Peter, ruefully. "I guess we shall manage with the axes, although we need a knife like your Indian draw-knife. Reach me a large decoy, and the heaviest of those cod-leads."
Only the Ternate mail-boat crossed that region about the eighth of every month, regularly nowhere near the island though. Rigid, his voice hoarse, his heart thumping, his mind concentrated on the success of his plan, the hotel-keeper multiplied words, as if to keep as many of them as possible between himself and the murderous aspect of his purpose.
It's the stormy season, and you may have to wait two weeks for the mail-boat after you reach the coast." "Yes; but, on the other hand, if we should miss it by one day, it would mean a month's delay. She ought to be due in about ten days, so we can't take any chances." "I shall be dreadfully worried until I know you are safely over," said the girl, a new note of wistful tenderness in her voice.
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