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Updated: June 10, 2025
When a norther blows, work is suspended in the city, and the streets are deserted until the fury of the blast has subsided. This wind, however, like most other serious annoyances in life, has its bright side. Very true is the saying: "It's an ill wind that blows nobody good."
I can only hope, and trust them to the protection of a merciful Providence. The only sign of a holiday on board to-night is the usual "splicing of the main-brace" Anglicè, giving Jack an extra allowance of grog. I shall begin to look for a norther in about twenty-four hours. We commenced caulking our leaky decks to-day, and despatched the launch to assist in ballasting the barque.
Several men were drowned, but the goods and ships' stores were saved, though with some difficulty. As they got out warps to bring the ships off, the north wind freshened. In shallow water, such as that, a sea rises very quickly. In a few hours a regular "norther" had set in, and the ships beat to pieces on the ledge before the end of the day.
Sometimes he was in woods, sometimes upon the plain, and once or twice he crossed creeks, the waters of which were swollen and muddy. The Norther was not such a blessing after all. He might be going directly away from San Antonio, while Santa Anna, with innumerable guides, would easily reach there the next day. He longed for those faithful comrades of his.
The red glow in the east disappeared. But Ned knew that it was still there. The Norther had merely drawn an icy veil between. He shivered, and the horse under him shivered, too. Once more he wrapped around his body the grateful folds of the serape and he drew on a pair of buckskin gloves, a part of his winter equipment. Then he rode on straight toward San Antonio as nearly as he could calculate.
Again ready Gloomy weather A Norther The Arcas The second Christmas at sea The war Plymouth rock leaven On the lonely island "Splicing the main-brace" Searching for shells Tired of hard service In irons Well disciplined A phenomenon The new year In memoriam To sea again.
The animals baulk, plunge, stumble, some going headforemost into the mire, others striking their shoulders against the thick-standing trees, doing damage to themselves and their riders. For with the norther still clouding the sky, it is almost dark as night. Other dangers assail them from falling trees.
On, on they rushed, till in the distance one might fancy them a quantity of beetles, or other insects, dotting the surface before them. Soon not a vestige remained of the flying herd, and happy it was for them they made good their retreat, and gained a place of refuge ere the "norther" burst in all its keenness on the unprotected plain.
They looked almost grotesque to him now, and some of them threatened. He went inside the church and looked around once more. It was old, very old. The grayness of age showed everywhere, and the silence of the defenders on the walls deepened its ancient aspect. But the Norther had ceased to blow, and the sun came down, bright and unclouded, through the open roof. Ned climbed upon the wall.
The first doubt that came to Ned Crawford that morning, as his eyes opened and he began to get about half-awake, related to his hammock and to how on earth he happened to be in it. Swift memories followed then of the norther, the perilous pull ashore, the arrival at the Tassara place, and the people he had met there.
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