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Updated: May 21, 2025
"Then why did she make for Wreckumoft?" inquired Kenneth. "That's best known to the cap'n, who's gone to his long home," said Gaff gravely. "Were all lost except yourself?" pursued Kenneth, regarding his companion's face narrowly; but the said face exhibited no expression whatever as its owner replied simply
Kenneth Stuart retired to a window and read his letter, which ran as follows: "Wreckumoft, etcetera. I trust that you have now seen the impropriety of thinking of that portionless girl as your wife. At all events, you may rest assured that on the day you marry her you shall be disinherited. You know me well enough to be aware that this is not an idle threat.
An "Address" which he issued to officers and seamen frequenting the port of Wreckumoft, wound up with the following words: "The Directors of the Sailors' Home are anxious that seamen should clearly understand that the institution was designed for their sole benefit, and established with the view of protecting them from the systematic extortion of crimps and other snares, to which their circumstances and calling render them peculiarly liable; and, above all, to promote their moral elevation, social improvement, and religious instruction.
A few days after the events narrated in the last chapter, Gaff and his son arrived by stage-coach in the town of Wreckumoft, and at once started off for the village of Cove. It was night. There was no moon, but the stars shone brightly in a clear sky, affording sufficient light to show them their road. Neither of them spoke.
The Sailors' Home in Wreckumoft was a neat, substantial, unpretending edifice, which had been built by a number of charitable people, in order to provide a comfortable residence, with board at moderate terms, for the numerous seamen who frequented our port. It also served as a place of temporary refuge to the unfortunate crews of the numerous wrecks which occurred annually on our shores.
Then they came to the conclusion that they could "make nothing of it at all at all," which was not surprising, for neither of them could read a word. They wisely resolved at length to take it to their priest, who not only read it, but had it inserted in the Times on the week following, and also in the local papers of Wreckumoft.
The scene is changed now to the railway station at Wreckumoft, where there is the usual amount of bustle and noise. The engines are shrieking and snorting as if nothing on earth could relieve their feelings but bursting.
But to return from this digression: the new secretary of the Sailors' Home of Wreckumoft became the guardian spirit of the place. He advised all the arrangements which the Board made. He drew up all the rules that the Board fixed.
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