Gideon's Band: A Tale of the MississippiCable, George Washington
General
Gideon's Band: A Tale of the Mississippi
Cable, George Washington
Mississippi River -- Fiction
"He's brave, sis'," Basile went on, "and he's clean, and he's square,
mother, boys. You were on the _Quakeress_ when she burned, wa'n't you?
Ah, me!--wish I'd known you then. I'd be a different man now. I don't
believe I'd be dying. My heavenly Father wouldn't 'a' had to call me in
out of the storm."
[Illustration: "My heavenly Father wouldn't 'a' had to call me in out of
the storm"]
His mother sank to her knees against the berth's side, covered her face,
and shook with grief. The daughter sank too, weepingly caressing her,
yet was still able so to divide her thought as yearningly to wish Hugh,
for his own sake, well away, as she saw his hand softly endeavor to draw
free from Basile's. But it was on that instant that the great tree root
came thundering up through the wheel-house and the dying clasp
tightened. The shock of surprise revived him. "Hugh--do something for
me?... Thank you. Bishop's gone, you know. Read my burial service. I
don't want the--play-actor--though he's fine; nor the priest, though
he's fine, too. Mom-a'd be a saint in any--persuasion, and pop and us
boys are Methodists, if anything, and I--I didn't get religion in Latin
and I don't want to be buried in it." He waited. Hugh was silent.
The Creole mother, still kneeling, drew closer. "Yass," she said, "he
shall read that."
But plainly there was one thing more though the tired eyelids sank. "Let
down your ear," murmured the lips.
Hugh knelt, bent, waited. The distressed twins watched them. The hold on
his hand relaxed. He lifted and looked.
"What do he say?" tearfully asked old Joy, pressing in.
"Nothing," said Hugh; and then to the twins: "He's gone."
* * * * *
Out in the benign starlight and caressing breeze Hugh hastened to his
father's door.
XLVII
INSOMNIA
Down in the cabin, in one of its best staterooms, where all were choice,
the senator wooed slumber.
In vain. Sounds were no obstacle. They abounded but they were normal.
Except--"Peck-peck-peck" and so on, which the steady pulse of normal
sounds practically obliterated. The peck-pecking was not for him.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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