The Ontario Readers: The High School Reader, 1886 Part 56

CIX. ABIGAIL BECKER.

(_Off Long Point Island, Lake Erie, November 24th, 1854._)

AMANDA T. JONES.

The wind, the wind where Erie plunged, Blew, blew nor'-east from land to land; The wandering schooner dipp'd and lunged,-- Long Point was close at hand.

Long Point--a swampy island-slant, Where, busy in their gra.s.sy homes, Woodc.o.c.k and snipe the hollows haunt, And musk-rats build their domes;

Where gulls and eagles rest at need, Where either side, by lake or sound, Kingfishers, cranes, and divers feed, And mallard ducks abound.

The lowering night shut out the sight: Careen'd the vessel, pitch'd and veer'd,-- Raved, raved the wind with main and might; The sunken reef she near'd.

She pounded over, lurch'd, and sank; Between two sand-bars settling fast, Her leaky hull the waters drank, And she had sail'd her last.

Into the rigging, quick as thought, Captain and mate and sailors sprung, Clamber'd for life, some vantage caught, And there all night they swung.

And it was cold--oh, it was cold!

The pinching cold was like a vise: Spoondrift flew freezing,--fold on fold It coated them with ice.

Now when the dawn began to break, Light up the sand-path drench'd and brown, To fill her bucket from the lake, Came Mother Becker down.

From where her cabin crown'd the bank Came Abigail Becker tall and strong: She dipp'd, and lo! a broken plank Came rocking close along!

She pois'd her gla.s.s with anxious ken: The schooner's top she spied from far, And there she counted seven men That clung to mast and spar.

And oh, the gale! the rout and roar!

The blinding drift, the mounting wave, A good half-mile from wreck to sh.o.r.e, With seven men to save!

Sped Mother Becker: "Children! wake!

A s.h.i.+p's gone down! they're needing me!

Your father's off on sh.o.r.e; the lake Is just a raging sea!

"Get wood, cook fish, make ready all."

She s.n.a.t.c.h'd her stores, she fled with haste, In cotton gown and tatter'd shawl, Barefoot across the waste,

Through sinking sands, through quaggy lands, And nearer, nearer, full in view, Went shouting through her hollow'd hands: "Courage! we'll get you through!"

Ran to and fro, made cheery signs, Her bonfire lighted, steeped her tea, Brought drift-wood, watch'd Canadian lines Her husband's boat to see.

Cold, cold it was--oh, it was cold!

The bitter cold made watching vain: With ice the channel laboring roll'd,-- No skiff could stand the strain.

On all that isle, from outer swell To strait between the landings shut, Was never place where man might dwell, Save trapper Becker's hut.

And it was twelve and one and two, And it was three o'clock and more.

She call'd: "Come on! there's nought to do, But leap and swim ash.o.r.e!"

Blew, blew the gale; they did not hear: She waded in the shallow sea; She waved her hands, made signals clear, "Swim! swim, and trust to me!"

"My men," the captain cried, "I'll try: The woman's judgment may be right; For, swim or sink, seven men must die If here we swing to-night."

Far out he mark'd the gathering surge; Across the bar he watch'd it pour, Let go, and on its topmost verge Came riding in to sh.o.r.e.

It struck the breaker's foamy track,-- Majestic wave on wave uphurl'd, Went grandly toppling, tumbling back, As loath to flood the world.

There blindly whirling, shorn of strength, The captain drifted, sure to drown; Dragg'd seaward half a cable's length, Like sinking lead went down.

Ah, well for him that on the strand Had Mother Becker waited long!

And well for him her grasping hand And grappling arm were strong!

And well for him that wind and sun, And daily toil for scanty gains, Had made such daring blood to run Within such generous veins!

For what to do but plunge and swim?

Out on the sinking billow cast, She toil'd, she dived, she groped for him, She found and clutch'd him fast.

She climb'd the reef, she brought him up, She laid him gasping on the sands; Built high the fire and fill'd the cup,-- Stood up and waved her hands!

Oh, life is dear! The mate leap'd in.

"I know," the captain said, "right well, Not twice can any woman win A soul from yonder h.e.l.l.

"I'll start and meet him in the wave."

"Keep back!" she bade: "what strength have you?

And I shall have you both to save,-- Must work to pull you through!"

But out he went. Up shallow sweeps Raced the long white-caps, comb on comb: The wind, the wind that lash'd the deeps, Far, far it blew the foam.

The frozen foam went scudding by,-- Before the wind, a seething throng, The waves, the waves came towering high, They flung the mate along.

The waves came towering high and white.

They burst in clouds of flying spray: There mate and captain sank from sight, And, clinching, roll'd away.

Oh, Mother Becker, seas are dread, Their treacherous paths are deep and blind!

But widows twain shall mourn their dead If thou art slow to find.

She sought them near, she sought them far, Three fathoms down she gripp'd them tight; With both together up the bar She stagger'd into sight.

Beside the fire her burdens fell: She paus'd the cheering draught to pour, Then waved her hands: "All's well! all's well!

Come on! swim! swim ash.o.r.e!"

Sure, life is dear, and men are brave: They came,--they dropp'd from mast and spar; And who but she could breast the wave, And dive beyond the bar?

Dark grew the sky from east to west, And darker, darker grew the world: Each man from off the breaker's crest To gloomier deeps was hurl'd.