"t '* Wm.» ma” —. ,«"‘ nvtd Adams. (tllAl’Tl‘llt J. t)l.l) WliA'l‘lllClHVAX. “ IT's goin‘ [01w a wild night. Jack.” The speaker was an old man wit h n weazened face. '1‘)". son “iv had roughened his skin and shrunk it up like the skin of a washerwoinnn's hands. . He was thin as a. lath, dry as a chip, With a twinkling pair of eyes, of which the color'was not easy to tell from the owner’s habit of keeping them half—closed, peering to windward in the gates. that sweep in from the Atlantic on the New England coast. What there was of old Toni Chase, of lllllllflHt'oll- ’ set, better known as “ t lid Weatherwax," was tough as a pine knot, and there were none who could pull an oar longer, or stay out in a storm tor more hours without (-oiiipluining than he. 5 His hair what was left of it-wwas Tom’s weal; ‘ point, and the only thing about wlncl1he_was at all sensntive to public opinion. It was red, With streaks of gray, and it only eXisted on the sides of his head, just over the cars, so that 'lU‘lll kept his old sou- Wester on at all times out of doors, and wore a woolen cap, in the shape of the end ol a bag, when in the house; so that his head was never exposed to the observation of lllt‘ cold world ()ld VVeiilhci-w'ax was by no means a dandy; but no man in Matt'ast-onset dressed better than he, with respect to the Weather he was to encounter; and the. people all W'uH'llt‘tl and took their cue from him, as far as the, weather was concerned. ‘ Did old Tom come out in oilskms and sou wester? It was sure to be a wet and miserable day. Did he appear in heavy flannel, and three or tour shins. one over the other? .‘latrasconset concluded that it r was going to be cold. that day. however mild it, Iliigllt be when they saw Tom: and they generally found that the old man was right. 'l‘hercforc, when he said to his friend. Jack Cor- win, that it, was “goin‘ to be a wild night. Jack knew it was. and only answered: I “ I shouldn’t have thought it if you hadn‘t said so. ,F, Ben to. ilham A arm, :rl’unusnims. COPYRIGHT, 188»! By BEADLE AND ADAMS NEW YORK, JULY 5, 1884. TERMS IN Anvucw: llllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllll l One Copy, four months, 01.00 One Copy one year, . . . 3.00 Two Copies, one you, . 5.00 “ She’s goin’ 1 J ack Corwin, Boat-Builder and Surfman; on, The Might and. Blight of Money. A Story of a. Nobleman of Nature. BY CAPTAIN FREDERICK WHITTAKER, AU'l‘llth ole “.mnN .xniis'rnoxu, MicanNic," “A KNIGHT OF LABOR,” mo, ETC., ETC. The lWo men were at the door of a little cottage, at the foot of a tower. on the edge of a bluff of sand, which looked out over the sea and eommandeda view of thirty miles. The tower was one of those buildings which stud the coast of the Union. like guardian angels, cheering the lonely mariner at night, when he, sees the far-off gleam of the well- known light, that has its language, to tell him where he is. The sun was shining in the midst of a. clear sky. and the s *a was rolling along at the foot of the little bluff of sand with a lazy sound of softly-washing waves that barely broke into bubbles on the sloping beach. and gave no token that there would be any surt' on that day. (Jul in the otling the white sails were shining likc. silver when the sun struck them, or turned to brown and gray in the shadows, as the schooners tacked or veered in the light cat‘s-paws that pre- vailed. . . The time of year was at the beginning of April, when the men of the coast-guard are about to be paid off and sent home to their people. the ncceSSity for their duty being suppos‘ed to be over. Old Tom, being the ligtit-housekeeper, was re- tained all the year round: but his friend John work- ed at the ship-building business In summer. and earned a helping pittance in the stormy months of winter by the hardest of hard werk. to keep his mother in the little cottage in. faraway Syauunk, where she lived with his sister. Syanunk was on the other side of the broad bav, where, the shel'er of old Mount Wolfe made the winters so much milder, it was a Common saying it was a. “hull shirt warmerat Syanunk than M :- tasconset any day in the week. 'Cept it blowed from the. sou’west, and then ’cwarn't no great matter." Jack (Torwin. called Surf-boat Jack by the coast- guard men, who delighted in nicknames and made them appropriate, like other boys. was a big, good- natured fellow. with a tremendous pair of shoulders. His face was handsome. with a certain expressmn Hold on to me all that kin! that showed he was no fool, though he might be good-natured. He was a. slow, thoughtful fellow, who did very little talking; but who spoke to the purpose. when he spoke at all. He had the name, among his mates at; the ship- yard, of being a first-class mechanic. and could draft the lines of a vessel, on occasion, as well as the boss, who prided himself on his capacity to turn out “ flyers " from his yard. Eliphalet Carver——c0inm0nly called “Life”—was one of the best-known builders in Londonderry, Maine, and Surf-boat Jack was the pride of his ard. y Surf-boat Jack looked out over the, sea as Tom spoke. about the weather, and said: “I shouldn‘t have thought it, if you hadn’t said so, Tom. It looks good enough. and the orders is to leave tomorrow." “I know that, well enough,” returned Tom, with an accent of some scorn; " but what do they know about the weather up in Washington? They squats on their cheers all day. and looks at a lot of b"rom‘- ters and slab, and thinks they knows all about what’s goin' to happen to—morrer and next day; but the ' don"t know no more about it than the rest of us. 'ou’ll see. we‘ll have. a tearin’ non-caster tonight, and it won’t cloud up till jest about sun- down.” *‘ What makes you think so?” asked Jack, rather curiously, as he looked round the heavens. " l ain‘t sich a old hand as you. Tom, but I kin tell the Signs pretty well, ginerally. and I don’t see none of dirty Weather.” Old Weatherwax allowed a grim smile to cross his face as he. listened. He was very vain of his skill in reading weather signs. and disposed to hide, the methods by which be operated, so that he might not be cornered. if he made a wrong prediction. Jack was the only human being whom he had ever trusted with his secrets, but he felt good-natured enough to tell him what he meant and on what signs he worked. “ Look over yonner.” he said, pointing to the, sky in the southeast, just under the sun. wnerc a low, white. streak of cloud, so faint as to be hardly visi— ble. rested on the edge of the horizon. “The win’s in the nor‘west, ain‘t it? And it‘s sunk. so that you can’t. hardly feel it. That‘s a sign it ain‘t goin‘ to last calm forever, ain‘t it 2" “Well. I s'pose it won't last- calm I‘orerrr—“ "Take a reef in yer jaw. sonny; l‘m tellin' this story. It’s a-goin' ter blow high, when this spell of calm weather gets over. and you kin bet yer boots that a soft day like this, in April, is allers a weath- er-breeder. That ‘ere cloud's the place the gale’s a- comiu‘ from, and you mark my words.” “ Then is it going to blow from the. southeast?" '* Who said it were '1 I said the wind were a com- in’ from there. and nothen else. It's a-goin’ to bc a reg‘lar nor’easter, and Lord help the pore fellers as thinks it‘s a. safe day to go out fishin‘." The old light-house-keeper spoke in a way that: showed he thorougnly believed in his own predic- :ion; and Jack. who had a great respect for his knowledge, said in a grave tone: ' " If I thought there would be any use in it, Tom. I‘d stav the day out, and tell the boys at the station to Itold on till the sim sets." ()1? Toni nodded his head emphatically. as he re- lll‘t I p " Ay. ay. it mou't be as well. boy; but they won‘t git any pay, onless there's :1 wrack. and they do It’s the last chance l” suthin’. That’s the best of the consarned buroze in Washington, with their young snips of sojers. I’d like to know what in thunder a. sojer should know 4 about the weather, anyhow? Give me an old sea.- dog, who’s watched the sea. and the sky sense he was no higher‘n a. ship’s bucket; and if he won’t tell ye more 1bout the weather than all these fellers in Washington, with their instruments, and their lingo ’bout probs, and areas, and depressions, I’d like to know the reason why.” Old Tom spoke with feeling; for he had found his occupation of weather prophet much discredited of late by the predictions of that mysterious gentle- man, “ Old Prob,” who had begun to gain respect among the men on the coast, by telling them, two days beforehand, when a storm might be expected, and, in one or two instances. had proved right, when old Tom had flatly contradicted him. The old seaman was therefore jealous of “ Old Prob,” and anxious to find the authorities at Wash- ington in a mistake. Surf—boat Jack made no observation about the Bureau, for he was rather disposed to believe in it as the representative of constituted authority, but he told Tom: “If you think there’s going to be a storm, and that We‘ll be needed to-night, I’ll go round and tell the boys to stay, till we see whether the sun gOes down. all right. or not. If ye don't want to take. the rcsk of sayin’ it, I’ll go on my last patrol, Tom.” Old Tom hesitated. and took a long, thirsty look over the tranquil surEaCe of the sea. He did not like to have the responsibility thrown on him so de- cidedly: but there Was no help for him. At last he said slowly: “Onlcss the. signs that I‘ve read fur forty~five year are all lies, we’re goin" to have a tearer this night. and we may be needed. Go and tell the boys to’stay. if they‘ve a mind to resk losin" a day’s pay fur nothen.” Surf-boat Jack turned round, and said as be de- parted: “ I‘ll tell ‘em, Tom. and if they ain't willin‘ to resk it on yourjedgment 1 (1m .' that’s all.” CHAPTER II. THE WRECK. Turn to the prediction of Old Weatherwax. as the day advanced the clouds on the edge of the south- eastern horizon rose slowly but surely. and before sunset :1 thin, gray haze was creeping up from the oiling, and the stripes on the sky had advanced past the zenith. Long before the clouds had become menacing, the sea had begun to dash on the shore in a succession of long I'Ollcl's that Showed it was storming hard somewhere out at sea. The wind, which had been variable and bathing, had settled to the eastward, damp and cold. with a hollow moaning in the chimney of the little station. that showed the surfnien heavy weather was com- mg. It was not so much the force of the wind—for that was. as yet, insignificant—but the peculiar sound, that told them of danger. Jack sat at the door’ri‘ the Mattasconset life-sav- ing station. watching the sea and the sails as the dry advanced. with a wistful look. He expected that morning to be going across thebav before night in his dory to see his old mother, and tell her that the season’s work was over. Now the prospect was shut off for the day. and he could not help a doubt whether he would ever see his home again. That a tempest was coming became plain at sun< down when the schooners came scudding in to shel- ter, and the rollers of the surf had already reached so far that the beats of the patrolmen were re- stricted to the foot of the bluffs a thing which had not happened since the last great gale in February. It was not blowing heavily yet, but the clouds had covered the face of the heavens, and the great hight of the waves as they rolled in, told that it was storming hard outside. There was no moon; and as the darkness set in the force of the wind increased very rapidly. Long before midnight a tremendous gale was howling round the cottage, and the sound of thunder told that the north and south winds Were struggling for the mastery in the recesses of the clouds. as winter finddsummer contended together, and winter died ar . At ten o’clock that night Charley Collin, called “ Breaker Charley,” at the station. who had been out on patrol came into the cottage with the remark: “Well, boys, it’s a Shorter, and no mistake. Old Weatherwax was right.” “ Anything to be seen?” asked Jack, whose turn it was to go out, as he put on his pea-jacket. “ Seen!“ echoed Charley. sarcastically. “ How in blazes is a man to s: e, when it‘s as much as he kin do to keep from walking over the edge of the cliffs? Dark! I tell ye, boys. it’s a snorter, and that‘s all a feller kin say ’bout it.” Jack, who had wrapped himself up in his heavy jacket and girt the life. belt round his waist. while Charley was speakiiig,* took the lantern that had guided his steps so often that winter. Before he went out. Something~he did not know what it \vas——niade him stop and say to the others, who had not yet gone tolled: “Boys, keep a lookout. I can‘t help tliinkin‘we may hth- to turnout with the boat to-night." Eben Macy. the Nantucketer, an ex-wbaler, nick- named “Long Dart,” looked up from a game of eucher with chas Pew. a negro. who delighted in the cognonien of “The Smasher," from certain passages in his past life. Long Dart answered him comt’ortiiigly: “ Don‘t be down-hearted, Jack. There ain’t no steamers goin’ south. now. What's coinin‘ is comin’ north. and they ginerally takes. the outside. pas- sage.” Jan-k nodded. as he departed, saying: “I know that: but don't go to sleep fur all that. mates. 1 don‘t feel as it" we was goin‘ to git through this night without a pull.” 7 “Lt'l the pull come,” cried The Smasher, as be stretched his long arms in the. air. " “'e’re the boys as kin pull, Jack. and don‘t yer furgit it." Then Jack closed the donr on the warm. comfort- able cottage behind him. and went into the darkness and storm. to walk his beat of three miles in the face. of the howling tempest. The last he. saw of the cabin ('llal‘ley was taking Qlf his glittering Oilskin coat, and the Others were gathered over the table in the CIT‘lllt‘l‘. intent upon their game of cards. They looked so warm and cmnfortable that he thought of them for some time as he walked his heat, and the storm had no power to blot out the vision. All roun-l him the night was as dark as pitch. He could not see his hand before his face, if he did not * Surfmen on patrol always Wear the cork life- belt over e\'erytliiiig in case of necessity. "JACK GORWIN.” NEXT WEEK: WHEELER’S “BO0TBLAGK DETEGTIVE, -ir