s for this. First: a fleet of small fishing vessels
makes this their home port. Hardly a family in the town that has not one
or more of its members going to sea in the little craft. To be caught
off shore in one of the West India hurricanes, which, at irregular
intervals, touch this point, means almost certain destruction. Again:
there is always danger to the low-lying town from a tidal wave. The town
is built on flat ground almost level with the surface of the water.
There is no sea wall to keep off the angry waves. The dwellers in the
town have learned their danger through dear experience in times past
when the waves have swept over it, bringing desolation and death.

Luckily, the storm that brought the strangers to Captain Ichabod Jones
did not blow long enough from the southeast to cause severe damage to
the town. Nor was there loss of life at sea. The masters of the fishing
boats had seen the weather flags--angry red, with sullen black
centers--flying from the signal mast. They had taken warning and
remained in port through the time of tempest.

When Uncle Icky rounded the point of marsh land, and headed his skiff
for Beaufort, the eyes of the storm-bound fishermen and the other
lounging natives gathered at the market wharf quickly espied the
familiar patched rag of sail and were filled with wonder as to what
could have tempted the old man from his snug Island out into the teeth
of the gale. When he sped into the slip, there were many hands ready to
grasp the hawser tossed to them by Captain Ichabod, and make it fast to
a "punchin."

If the loungers had expected to hear something startling, they were
doomed to disappointment. He had no time then to stop and gossip with
friends. He hurried on, with an air of unaccustomed self-importance on
account of the serious nature of his mission. He was in quest of Dr.
Hudson, a great-hearted man, who had spent the best years of his life in
ministering to the ills of these fisherfolk. They, in their turn, looked
upon him with a feeling of grateful fondness, tinctured with awe--so
miraculous to them seemed many of his cures. And, too, they honored him
for the manner in which he did his duty toward them. Never a night too
black, never a storm too high, for him to fare forth for the relief of
suffering. Latterly, however, he had felt the weight of work over much,
had felt perhaps as well the burden of advancing years. He had so
contrived that a young medical graduate opened up a