Part 8 (1/2)

Someone pushed a chair gently against Eliph's legs, in gentle invitation for him to be seated, and he took the chair, and laid his package across his knees. Those who had drawn away from him now gathered closer, and all gazed at him with interest. Miss Sally alone remained at the other end of the room.

”Well, I never expected to live to see a man that had been s.h.i.+pwrecked,”

said Mrs. Weaver, ”let alone s.h.i.+pwrecked on a desert island--an' a book agent at that!”

Eliph' smiled indulgently.

”I wasn't a book agent in them days,” he said; ”it was that made me a book agent. If I hadn't been s.h.i.+pwrecked on that island I wouldn't be here now with this book on my knees.”

Mrs. Weaver's face flushed.

”I'm sure I ask you to excuse me,” she exclaimed. ”I don't know what I was thinkin' of not to ask to take your package. Let me put it aside for you. They ain't no use for you to be bothered with it.”

”Thank you, ma'm,” said Eliph', ”but I'll just keep it. No offense, but I never let it go out of my hands, day or night. It saved my life, not once, but many times, this book did, and I keep it handy. But for this book that s.h.i.+pwreck would have been my last day.”

”Land sakes, now!” cried Mrs. Weaver, ”won't you tell us about it?”

”Well, as I said, but for this book I'd be bones at the bottom of the sea. Yes, ladies and gents, bones, of which there is one hundred and ninety-eight in the full grown human skeleton, composed of four-fifths inorganic and one-fifth organic matter.”

”How dreadful!” exclaimed Mrs. Weaver, who, being a doctor's wife, had a particular dislike for bones, as for useless things that cluttered up the house, and were not ornamental. ”But how come you to get wrecked?”

”Five years ago,” said Eliph' Hewlitt, ”I was a confidence man in New York. New York is the largest city in the Western Hemisphere; population estimated over three million; located on the island of Manhattan, at the mouth of the Hudson River. And, if I do say it myself, I was a good confidence man. I was a success; I got rich. And what then? The police got after me, and I had to run away. Yes, ladies and gents, I had to fly from my native land. I took pa.s.sage on a s.h.i.+p for Ceylon. Ceylon,” he added, ”is an island southeast of India; population three millions; princ.i.p.al town, Colombo; English rule; products, tea, coffee, spices, and gems.

”We had a good trip until we almost got there, and then a big storm come up, and blew our s.h.i.+p about like it was a peanut sh.e.l.l, tossing it up and down on the mighty waves, and round and back; and the third day we b.u.mped on a rock, and the s.h.i.+p began to sink. In the hurry I was left behind when the crew and pa.s.sengers went off in the boats. Think of it, ladies and gents, not even a life preserver to save me, and the s.h.i.+p sinking a foot a minute.”

”Goodness me!” said Mrs. Weaver, ”you wasn't drowned, was you?”

”No,” said Eliph' Hewlitt, ”or I wouldn't be here to tell it. I rushed to the captain's cabin. I thought maybe I would find a life preserver there. Alas, no! But there, ladies and gents, I found something better.

When I didn't find a life preserver I was stunned--yes, clean knocked out. I dropped into a chair and laid my head on the captain's table.

I sat there several minutes, the s.h.i.+p sinking one foot per minute, and when I come to my senses, and raised my head, my hand was lying on this.”

Reverently he raised the volume from his knees and unwrapped it, and the Ladies' Foreign Mission Society leaned forward with one accord to catch a glimpse of the t.i.tle. Eliph' Hewlitt opened the book and flipped over the pages rapidly with the moistened tip of his third finger.

”It was this book, ladies and gents, and it was open here, page 742.

Without thinking, I read the first thing that hit my eye. 'How to Make a Life Preserver,' it said. 'Take the corks from a hundred champagne bottles; tie them tightly in a common s.h.i.+rt; then fasten the arms of the s.h.i.+rt about the body, with the corks resting on the chest. With this easily improvised life preserver drowning is impossible.' I done it. The captain of that s.h.i.+p was a high liver, and his room was chuck full of champagne bottles. I put in two extry corks for good measure, and when the s.h.i.+p went down, I floated off on the top of the ocean as easy as a duck takes to a pond.”

”My sakes!” exclaimed Mrs. Weaver, ”that captain must have been an awful hard drinker!”

”He was,” said Eliph' Hewlitt--”fearful. I was really shocked. But, there I was in the water, and not much better off for it, neither, for I couldn't swim a stroke, and as soon as I got through bobbing up and down like your cork when you've got a sunfish on your line, I stayed right still, just as if I'd been some bait-can a boy had thrown into an eddy, and I figgered like as not I'd stay there forever. Then I noticed I had this book in my hand, and I thought, 'While I'm staying here forever, I'll just take another peek at this book,' and I opened her. Page 781,” said Eliph', turning quickly to that page, ”was where she opened.

'Swimming; How to Float, Swim, Dive, and Tread Water--Plain and Fancy Swimming, Shadow Swimming, High Diving,' et cetery. There she was, all as plain as pie, and when I read it I could swim as easy as an old hand. The direction al through this book is plain, practical, and easily followed.

”I at once swum off to the south, for there was no telling how long I'd have to swim, and as the water was sort of cool, I thought best to go south, because the further south you go the warmer the water gets. When I swum two days, and was plumb tuckered out, I come to an island. The waves was das.h.i.+ng on it fearful, and I knew if I tried to land I'd be dashed to flinders. It knocked all the hope out of me, and I made up my mind to take off my life preserver and dive to the bottom of the sea to knock my brains out on the rocks. But, ladies and gents, before I dived I had another look at my book, hoping to find something to comfort a dying man. I turned to page 201.”

Eliph' Hewlitt found the page, and pointed to the heading with his finger.

”'Five Hundred Enn.o.bling Thoughts from the World's Greatest Authors, including the Prose and Poetical Gems of All ages,'” he read. ”There they were-sixty-two solid pages of them, with vingetty portraits of the authors. I read No. 285:

”As Thou has made Thy world without, Make Thou more fair my world within,' et cetery.”

”Whittier, J. G., commonly called the poet of liberty, born 1807, died 1892'--with a complete sketch of his life, a list of his most popular pieces, and a history of his work on behalf of the slave.