Why, I
never heard such a--I never! Seth, it ain't true, not a word of it. Did
you think I'd get a divorce? Me? A self-respectin' woman? And from you?"

"You turned me adrift."

"I didn't. You turned yourself adrift. I was in trouble, bound by a
promise I give my dyin' husband, to give his brother a home while I had
one. I didn't want to do it; I didn't want him with us--there, where
we'd been so happy. But I couldn't say anything. I couldn't turn him
out. And you wouldn't, you--"

She was interrupted. From beneath the Daisy M.'s keel came a long,
scraping noise. The little schooner shook, and then lay still. The
waves, no longer large, slapped her sides.

Mrs. Bascom, startled, uttered a little scream. Bennie D., knocked
to his knees, roared in fright. Seth alone was calm. Nothing, at that
moment, could alarm or even surprise him.

"Humph!" he observed, "we're aground somewheres. And in the Harbor.
We're safe and sound now, I cal'late. Emeline, go below where it's
dry and stay there. Don't talk--go. As for you," leaving the wheel and
striding toward the weary inventor, "you can stop pumpin'--unless," with
a grim smile, "you like it too well to quit--and set down right where
you be. Right where you be, I said! Don't you move till I say the word.
WHEN I say it, jump!"

He went forward, lowered the jib, and coiled the halliards. Then,
lantern in hand, he seated himself in the bows. After a time he filled
his pipe, lit it by the aid of the lantern, and smoked. There was
silence aboard the Daisy M.

The wind died away altogether. The fog gradually disappeared. From
somewhere not far away a church clock struck the hour. Seth heard it and
smiled. Turning his head he saw in the distance the Twin-Lights burning
steadily. He smiled again.

Gradually, slowly, the morning came. The last remnant of low-hanging
mist drifted away. Before the bows of the stranded schooner appeared a
flat shore with a road, still partially covered by the receding tide,
along its border. Fish houses and anchored dories became visible. Behind
them were hills, and over them roofs and trees and steeples.

A step sounded behind the watcher in the bows. Mrs. Bascom was at his
elbow.

"Why, Seth!" she cried, "why, Seth! it's Eastboro, ain't it? We're close
to Eastboro."

Seth nodded. "It's Eastboro," he said. "I cal'lated we must be there or
thereabouts. With that no'theast breeze to help us we couldn't do much
else but fetch up at the inner e