The Emigrant Mechanic and Other Tales in Verse Part 29

Come the officers of law; Cries are heard to let them pa.s.s.

Through, the crowd they forward go, To behold the scene of woe; Suspense now holds the ma.s.s.

s.h.i.+fts the scene unto the sea, Nears a port a stately sail; Joyful seems the crew to be, Dream they not of misery From an approaching gale.

Swiftly comes--a dreadful storm; Fast the rigging's torn away; Broken masts the s.h.i.+p deform, All is terror and alarm Amidst the das.h.i.+ng spray.

Angry roars the foaming deep; Death now stares them in the face; There is found no time to sleep, Nor would it avail to weep In such a woeful case.

Lift they up a prayer to G.o.d; Does He heat them in distress?

See, He waves his righteous Rod, For they've on his precepts trod; His might they now confess.

Two alone survive the rest, These are clinging to a spar.

One with secret in his breast Is by sense of guilt oppressed, Which keeps his mind ajar.

Can the reader guess his name?

"Bristol?" yes, he was the one; He a sailor soon became, Nor felt any sense of shame Till life had nearly gone.

Now h.e.l.l's terrors seize his soul; Now he sees the murdered maid In her blood before him fall; Hears her for G.o.d's vengeance call, And ask why it's delayed.

Feels the elements at war Nothing to the strife within, Therefore to his brother tar His locked heart he does unbar, To ease him of his sin.

Tells him how some months ago He a harmless maiden slew.

Jealousy had wrought his woe, Made him give the fatal blow; 'Twas very wrong he knew.

"Speak her name!" the other cries; "Mary Markham," Bristol screams.

Rage gleams from that other's eyes, As he at John Bristol flies, To end his mortal dreams.

Soon he's by the murderer's side, Now he fiercely drags him down.

"Here thou shalt no longer bide; Sink, fiend! sink into the tide, And all thy baseness drown!"

Loud and louder roars the wind; The new murderer is alone And has lost his peace of mind.

Will he seek a port to find And there his sin atone?

Fellow sinner, think not hard Of the poor remaining one.

He from proper light debarred, Thought it duty to reward Bristol for that deed done.

Why? He to the murdered maid Was a brother by his birth.

His love for her did not fade, And this journey home he made In hopes to yield her mirth.

s.h.i.+fts the gloomy scene once more, To a narrow, crooked street; In a wretched liquor store Sits a man we've seen before, Musing on things not sweet.

He might seem to view intent Watered spirits in a gla.s.s, For his eyes on that are bent, But his thoughts are wandering sent Alter that murdered la.s.s.

In this street--the very same, That most shocking act was done; It had nearly lost its fame, Yet remembered was the name Of that pool maiden lone.

When her name was spoke 'tis said Chilling honor seized the soul Of both high and lowly bred; All who heard were filled with dread Which they could scarce control.

Seems the man irresolute About the drink before him placed.

Now, his gestures are not mute, Showing feelings most acute, And such as might be traced.

Bodingly he shakes his head, Deep-drawn lengthy sigh then heaves His broad chest, for her now dead!

Bitter tears are freely shed As he for sister grieves.

In plain sailor's clothes he's dressed, Anchor blue is on his hand.

A woman's eyes now on him rest, Who, with babe upon her breast, Speaks him in accents bland.

"Does the liquor suit your taste?

Is there nothing else you need?"

From his seat he rose with haste, On the floor his feet he braced; "I'm thinking of that deed!"

Quickly swallows he the drink, Then asks, "Is not this the street?"

"What street? Come, yourself bethink!"

"I will; yet from it I shrink.

Sweet girl, we ne'er shall meet!"

"Tell, good woman, if you can, Where she "--Once again a pause.

Turns she now afresh to scan The face of that most wretched man.

So very full of woes.

Anxious to relieve his mind, Stays she still within the room; Then says, "Man, what would you find?

I to serve you am inclined."

"Where met that girl her doom?"

Now she needs no other clue; Says, "You'll see the place from here.

Fouler deed I never knew; Was she anything to you?

Come, tell me without fear."

"Was my sister, that was all;"

Soft he said, then paid his bill.

Something seemed on him to call; Speedily away he stole, But not with ready will.

Radiant Sol is sinking low, And Night coming on apace; Roofs in the setting sunbeams glow, And his purple tints they show, Till he has run his race.

At this time does Markham sit In that lonely, dirty room; Heeds not how the shadows flit, Asks not if such place be fit To drive away his gloom.

Felt he quite constrained to see That house, where his sister dwelt, And refresh his memory, Thinking what she used to be, When he so happy felt.

Now he tries to realize Scenes that harrow up his soul.

While, successfully, he tries, Fancies he can hear her cries!

This does his heart appal.

Thus engaged, he quickly hears Soft steps coming to the door!

This does not arouse his fears; Strong his nerves, it now appears, As ere they were before.

Timid hand has lift the latch; One more man is now within.

Very soon he strikes a match; Candle's lit! Can Markham catch Those features--dark with sin?

Soon. But what a sight to see; Eyeb.a.l.l.s from their sockets start!