, and hailed her approach
in thrilling nautical terms, such as: "Why didn't ye reef yer topgallant,
ma!" when the handkerchief was torn off her head; and "hang to the
main-royal, ma," as Grandma's apron was caught up and borne, wildly
fluttering, about her ears; and "keep your ballast, ma," with frequent
ejaculations of "Lor', how she pitches! how she pitches!"

These were not thrown out as light shafts of ridicule. It was no occasion
for such. There was an awful earnestness in Grandpa Keeler's eye and in
his tone, that invested his words with due solemnity. Grandma, struggling
with the wind, had not heard them. She entered the Ark, however, cheerful
though panting.

"Bijonah Keeler," said she, in accents of real affection, "I wouldn't
have you out in that wind for no money--not for no money, nor our
teacher, neither. Why, no stronger than she is now, it 'ud take the
breath right out of our teacher's body! Why, ef it hadn't been for the
cargo I had on board, pa," continued Grandma, naturally falling into the
same train of ideas we had followed, while watching her battle with the
elements, "I should 'a' slipped moorin's, sure!"

A casual listener might have smiled at this, in view of Grandma's
substantial physique.

Presently she said, as though the thought had just struck her; "I hope
fisherman's got back to Wallen Harbor, pa."

"And if he ain't, ma," replied Grandpa Keeler, sententiously, "he'll know
what it is to be out in a squall! but I reckon he's looked out for
himself."

The old Captain's face grew graver; his eyes, in that closed room, which
had grown so suddenly dark, took on an intensely solemn look. He did not
attempt the narration of any stormy adventures of old. Perhaps the scenes
of the past rose too vividly before his eyes. But, as the fiercest gusts
came, he kept muttering:--

"I knew what it meant--mild winter on the Cape! There's the devil in the
old Cape weather, teacher, and he never skipped four seasons yit! If it
ain't one time, it must be another. Yis, yis! mild winter on the Cape,
and no March to speak on, and a hurricane in summer! Wall, we're both on
us right, ma, and we're both on us wrong. It ain't neither wind ner rain,
but the heavens let loose, and God A'mighty's own power a blowin' of it.
Yis, yis! I had my misgivin's all along; thinks I, better a little more
weather now, than to blast every livin' thing by and by; but I hadn't no
idee o' this! The Lord ha' mercy! The Lord ha' mer