had sailed a year ago, felt a sickening dread steal over them.
"I sees my Johnnie at any rate!" "There's my old man!" cried one and another, as the vessel drew nearer, and returning ones waved to those they recognized on the shore.
"Where is the doctor?" cried or thought every onlooker. On the bridge beside the captain stood Elms, seemingly in some authority.
"Perhaps he is not quite well," suggested old Dowling to Mrs. Courtenay, who, with face of a ghost, was leaning heavily on his arm.
None on shore dared ask, no one on board dared tell the dreadful news. Upon the hushed multitude a spell lay as though a terrible woe were impending. Slowly, almost solemnly, the ropes were flung, seized and made fast; the very captain giving his orders as though some dread ceremonial were being enacted.
When the blow fell and the truth was told, one long wail of anguish arose from the bereaved community. Women and children wept, while strong men trembled. Mrs. Courtenay's face became like marble. She tottered, then, with sheer force of will recovering herself, strode like a stricken lioness to the deck and confronted Elms. His blood-shot eyes fell before her searching gaze.
"Man," she cried, hardly knowing in the first rush of despair what she said, "where is my husband? Did I not charge you to bring him back? Where is he? I say. What! you do not answer? Before his bereaved people I denounce you as his murderer."
Accused so unexpectedly, the man caught at a rope to steady himself Could she know his terrible secret? The vessel seemed to swim round. He sat on a seat and gasped. The captain in a few words explained the
