But that does not matter. No need of light for what
is now to be done. Slowly the old man raises himself; feels for the
wall, creeps along beside it. Here is the line. Is there any strength
left in that benumbed arm? Yes! "For the child, dear Lord, and Thou
helpin' me, as ever has been!"
Down comes the signal, and the old man creeps back to his chair again,
and composes himself decently, with reverent, folded hands, and head
bowed in waiting. "'He holdeth the waters in the hollow of His hand.
Behold, He taketh up the isles as a very little thing.' Amen! so be
it!"
Wave, little Star! wave your little blue apron from the rocks, and
laugh and clap your hands for pleasure, as the ripples from the
steamer's bow break in snowy foam at your feet. Bend to your oar,
Bob Peet, and send your little black boat flying over the water as
she never flew before! and press on, friendly _Huntress_, to your
port, whence the winged message may speed on its way to the stately
lady with the tender eyes, who waits for tidings in her distant home.
For Captain January's last voyage is over, and he is already in the
haven where he would be.
THE END.
End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Captain January, by Laura E.
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