Chapter 4

After a short pause, Mrs. Ward said, with a smile, “You will be wishing to hear the story of Boxa’s ancestor, a dog, as I have said, deserving of renown. It chanced, in one of his official journeys, your grandfather visited a part of the coast peculiarly fatal to European vessels, especially to those outward bound to Quebec in the spring; the shore in the neighbourhood being very low, and the ledges of rock extending far out to sea. On one of the islands which he visited, he took up his abode in a neat cabin belonging to a planter, where he found welcome shelter, and a cheerful fire made from the wreckwood scattered abundantly upon the shore. There was a family of children, a merry group of boys and girls, who kept jingling in their hands some sort of playthings.

“What have you got there, my boys?’ he asked. They showed him their treasures, which proved to be bunches of small desk and cabinet keys, that had been picked up from the wrecks--a melancholy kind of toy, he could not help thinking. By-and-bye the good wife spread the hospitable board, at which he was invited to take his seat. He looked with surprise at the plates which she placed upon the deal table. They were very beautiful old china ware, and several pieces of a modern elegant breakfast set of dragon china, which had been ranged upon the shelves of the cabin alongside of the most common earthen crockery. These also had been cast ashore by the waves in boxes. When he asked to wash his hands, a fine huckaback towel, neatly marked with initial letters, was handed him. On inquiry, he learned that it had come from a wreck in which there were several ladies.

“There was something inexpressibly painful to the sensitive heart of my dear husband, in being thus surrounded by tokens of calamity. He inquired, with a sigh, whether any efforts had been made to help the sufferers?

“‘Oh, yes!’ said his host, a worthy man, though rough in his address and appearance. ‘Yes! we do our best, but it is very seldom our help comes in time to be worth much. Once or twice we have saved a solitary seaman by throwing a rope, or by sending in our dogs to drag others ashore; and some years ago there were seven men wrecked in the night, unknown to us. When the morning came, I was out early and discovered footmarks along the shore, which told me a tale I could read plain enough. I knew there had been a fearful gale some hours before, and my mind misgave me that these poor creatures, whose footsteps I saw, would perish of hunger in the interior, where they could find nothing to eat, and where there was not a solitary cottage at which they could get help.

“‘Well; I determined to track them, and I called up my brother, who was a strong, active young fellow; and we followed them, and found them at last, just as they had given up all hope, and had laid down to die. For three days and nights they had tasted neither food nor drink. When first they caught sight of us, I shall never forget their faces. Haggard and starved, as they looked, they cried for joy, and kissed our hands, and bade God bless us!’”

“And would they really have died, do you think, grandmamma, if the two men had not overtaken them?” said Georgie, eagerly.

“No doubt, my love, such would have been their fate. After hearing this tale, your grandfather retired early to rest, being weary with the fatigues of a long and exhausting day’s journey. He slept soundly, and though the wind, which had blown a strong gale when he landed, increased during the night to a hurricane, his slumbers were undisturbed for several hours. At length he was aroused by a loud uproar, for which at first he could not account. When he had quite regained consciousness, he found that, in addition to the noise of a raging tempest, there were the shouts and cries of men outside the cabin, and loud talking in the chamber beneath.

“It was evident that something unusual had occurred to disturb the household. Hastily rising and dressing himself, he made the best of his way downstairs, and there he found the wife of his host busily engaged in chafing the hands and arms of a poor half-drowned lad who had just been brought into the cabin and laid upon the floor. He, it appeared, had been cast ashore by a heavy swell, but there were others beside him who were still in danger.

“‘Could you manage, sir, to stand against the wind, perhaps you could carry this coil of rope; they may be wanting it,’ said the woman. In another minute your grandfather was battling against the storm, making his way along the rugged shore in the direction of a small group of men who proved to be his host, with a younger brother and the two men who had manned the boat in which he had himself come to the island.

“It was a fearful sight. The sea was in a white foam, the whole air filled with spray, and the wind blowing heavily. Not far from shore was a boat with a part of the exhausted crew from a vessel wrecked in the offing. The breakers made it impossible that the poor fellows should effect a landing. A terrible death seemed their inevitable fate. Just at the moment your grandfather reached the point, he saw his host leap into the sea, his object being to give the men a rope. It was at the peril of his life he took that desperate leap. His favourite dog, Boxa, saw and instantly followed his master. The two rose in a moment, and were borne by the swell toward the boat. They had nearly reached it when it capsized. Moir--that was the name of the gallant man--seized one of the seamen, and, wonderful to tell, succeeded in bringing him safe to shore. In the meantime, Boxa, following his master’s example, caught hold of another of the poor drowning creatures, and began to drag him along. It proved, however, that the dog’s hold had fastened upon the seaman’s south-wester cap, which came off in the water. The animal evidently was not aware of what had happened, and, not perceiving the diminution in the weight of his burden, was proceeding to make his way to land with the cap only.

“Do so, George,” said his mother, folding up the handkerchief she had been embroidering, “and in the meantime I will put on my bonnet, for it is time we were on our way home.”

No sooner said than done. In five minutes George and Mrs. Green had said good-bye and were crossing the common in the direction of their own home.

“What a happy day it has been, mamma,” said our little friend, “and how glad I am I have such a nice birthday present;” and he bent down to take a peep through the wicker-work of the basket.

“And I am so glad, dear boy, that you have enjoyed your treat,” replied his mother. “May you see many happy, returns of this day; and may each succeeding year find you wiser and happier.”

Here ends the story of Georgie’s Present; but, as I think my young readers may like to know how the Newfoundland pup turned out, I will just tell them that he is now a full-grown, handsome young dog,--the great favourite and inseparable companion of my friend George, who assured me, not long ago, that of all his possessions there is none he prizes more highly than Newfy.