"Boys, our lives are in danger," she said; "but stick to me, and do what I tell you. I'll take you into port all right."
She set them to work to clear away the wreck; they manned the pumps; and when the gale had subsided a little, they rigged up a jury-mast, under their new captain's orders, set sail again, and in twenty-one days the ship was safely anchored at St. Thomas.
After the necessary repairs had been made there, and as her husband was still quite helpless, the brave woman worked the ship to Liverpool, and made the voyage in thirty days. After this, she settled down in New York, and for seven years has supported her crippled husband and her child by working as a clerk in a dry-goods store in this city.
A few months ago her husband died, and Secretary Sherman has appointed her to the post of inspectress in the New York Custom-house.
[Begun in Harper's YOUNG PEOPLE No. 66, February 1.]
When Phil was alone again, he waited impatiently for the long twilight to end in darkness, and the stars to come out. It seemed a very long time. Once in a while a faint murmur came from his harp, but it was a mere breathing of sound, and he turned restlessly in his chair. Then he closed his eyes and waited again, and his waiting was rewarded by a small voice in his ear whispering,
"Oh," said Phil, "I thought you never would come again."
"Tut, tut, child, you must not be so doubtful," said the little voice again, and the starry coronet gleamed in his eyes.
"I have brought you some sweet odors of wild flowers, and spicy breath of pine and hemlock, for I thought you needed a tonic."
Phil smelled something exquisite as she spoke, but all he said was,
"Something the doctors give when children are pale and thin, and do not have enough fresh air. I don't pretend to know what it means, but I often go to see sick children in hospitals, and so I hear about such things."
"Hark! is that my wind harp?--why, it sounds like water dropping and gurgling over stones."
"It is the song of a mountain brook that my friends are singing as they dance over your harp. Look!"
Phil looked, and saw the flock of fairies like white butterflies swarming again over his harp, and heard the soft sweet singing which kept time to their steps.