"I reckon I'll sleep it off, if I go to bed now.What time does the tide fall.""About three, unless this yer wind piles it up on the Marsh afore then.Why?""I was only wonderin' if the boat wus safe," said Maggie, rising."You'd better hoist yourself outside some quinine, instead o' talkenabout those things," said Jim, who preferred to discharge his fraternal responsibility by active medication."You aren't fit to read tonight.""Good night, Jim," she said suddenly, stopping before him.
"Good night, Mag." He kissed her with protecting and amiable toleration, generously referring her hot hands and feverish lips to that vaguemystery offemininecomplaintwhichmanadmitswithoutindorsing.
They separated.Jim, under the stimulus of the late supposed robbery, ostentatiously fastening the doors and windows with assuring comments, calculated to inspire confidence in his sister's startled heart.Then he went to bed.He lay awake long enough to be pleasantly conscious that the wind had increased to a gale, and to be lulled again to sleep by the cosy security of the heavily timbered and tightly sealed dwelling that seemed to ride the storm like the ship it resembled.The gale swept through the piles beneath him and along the gallery as through bared spars and over wave-washed decks.The whole structure, attacked above, below, and on all sides by the fury of the wind, seemed at times to be lifted in the air.Once or twice the creaking timbers simulated the sound of opening doors and passing footsteps, and again dilated as if the gale had forced a passage through.But Jim slept on peacefully, and was at last only aroused by the brilliant sunshine staring through his window from the clear wind-swept blue arch beyond.
Dressing himself lazily, he passed into the sitting-room and proceeded to knock at his sister's door, as was his custom; he was amazed to find it open and the room empty.Entering hurriedly, he saw that her bed was undisturbed, as if it had not been occupied, and was the more bewildered to see a note ostentatiously pinned upon the pillow, addressed in pencil, in a large school-hand, "To Jim."Opening it impatiently, he was startled to read as follows:--"Don't be angry, Jim dear--but it was all my fault--and I didn't tell you.I knew all about the deserter, and I gave him the clothes and things that they say he stole.It was while you was out that night, and he came and begged of me, and was mournful and hidjus to behold.I thought I was helping him, and getting our revenge on the Fort, all at the same time.Don't be mad, Jim dear, and do not be frighted fer me.I'm going over thar to make it all right--to free HIM of stealing--to have YOU left out of it all--and take it all on myself.Don't you be a bit feared for me.I ain't skeert of the wind or of going.I'll close reef everything, clear the creek, stretch across to Injen Island, hugg the Point, and bear up fer Logport.Dear Jim--don't get mad--but I couldn't bear this fooling of you nor HIM--andthatmanbeingtookforstealinganylonger!--Yourloving sister,MAGGIE."With a confused mingling of shame, anger, and sudden fear he ran out on the gallery.The tide was well up, half the Marsh had already vanished, and the little creek where he had moored his skiff was now an empty shining river.The water was everywhere-- fringing the tussocks of salt grass with concentric curves of spume and drift, or tumultuously tossing its white-capped waves over the spreading expanse of the lower bay.The low thunder of breakers in the farther estuary broke monotonously on the ear.But his eye was fascinated by a dull shifting streak on the horizon, that, even as he gazed, shuddered, whitened along its whole line, and then grew ghastly gray again. It was the ocean bar.
