“February 14th.—Schooner Harry Randolph dismasted on the way home from Newfoundland; Asa Musie, married, 32, Main Street, City, lost overboard. “February 23 d. —Schooner Gilbert Hope ; went astray in dory, Robert Beavon, 29, married, native of Pubnico, Nova Scotia.”
But his wife was in the hall. They heard a low cry, as though a little animal had been hit. It was stifled at once, and a girl staggered out of the hall. She had been hoping against hope for months, because some who have gone adrift in dories have been miraculously picked up by deep-sea sailing-ships. Now she had her certainty, and Harvey could see the policeman on the sidewalk hailing a hack for her. “It’s fifty cents to the depot”—the driver began, but the policeman held up his hand—“but I’m goin’ there anyway. Jump right in. Look at here, Al; you don’t pull me next time my lamps ain’t lit. See?”
The side-door closed on the patch of bright sunshine, and Harvey’s eyes turned again to the reader and his endless list.
“April 19th.—Schooner Mamie Douglas lost on the Banks with all hands. “Edward Canton, 43, master, married, City. “ D. Hawkins, alias Williams, 34, married, Shelbourne, Nova Scotia. “ G. W. Clay, coloured, 28, married, City.”
And so on, and so on. Great lumps were rising in Harvey’s throat, and his stomach reminded him of the day when he fell from the liner.
“May 10th.—Schooner We’re Here [the blood tingled all over him] Otto Svendson, 20, single, City, lost overboard.”