66

THE LEAK IN THE DIKE

A Story of Holland

BY PHOEBE CARY

The good dame looked from her cottage
At the close of the pleasant day,
And cheerily called to her little son

Outside the door at play:

Come, Peter, come! I want you to go,
While there is light to see,

To the hut of the blind old man who lives
Across the dike, for me;

And take these cakes I made for him—
They are hot and smoking yet;

You have time enough to go and come
Before the sun is set."

Then the good-wife turned to her labor,
Humming a simple song,

And thought of her husband, working hard
At the sluices all day long;

And set the turf a-blazing,

And brought the coarse black bread;

That he might find a fire at night,

And find the table spread.

And Peter left the brother,

With whom all day he had played,

And the sister who had watched their sports In the willow's tender shade;

And told them they'd see him back before

They saw a star in sight,

Though he wouldn't be afraid to go
In the very darkest night;
For he was a brave, bright fellow,
With eye and conscience clear;
He could do whatever a boy might do,
And he had not learned to fear.

Why, he wouldn't have robbed a bird's nest,
Nor brought a stork to harm,
Though never a law in Holland
Had stood to stay his arm!

And now, with his face all glowing,
And eyes as bright as the day

With the thoughts of his pleasant errand,
He trudged along the way;
And soon his joyous prattle
Made glad a lonesome place—
Alas! if only the blind man

Could have seen that happy face!
Yet he somehow caught the brightness
Which his voice and presence lent;
And he felt the sunshine come and go
As Peter came and went.

And now, as the day was sinking,
And the winds began to rise,

The mother looked from her door again,
Shading her anxious eyes;

And saw the shadows deepen

And birds to their homes come back, But never a sign of Peter

Along the level track.

But she said, "He will come at morning,
So I need not fret or grieve-
Though it isn't like my boy at all
To stay without my leave."

But where was the child delaying?
On the homeward way was he,

And across the dike while the sun was up
An hour above the sea.

He was stopping now to gather flowers,
Now listening to the sound,

As the angry waters dashed themselves
Against their narrow bound,

"Ah! well for us," said Peter,

"That the gates are good and strong, And my father tends them carefully,

Or they would not hold you long! You're a wicked sea," said Peter;

"I know why you fret and chafe; You would like to spoil our lands and homes; But our sluices keep you safe!"

But hark! Through the noise of waters
Comes a low, clear, trickling sound;
And the child's face pales with terror,
And his blossoms drop to the ground.

He is up the bank in a moment,
And, stealing through the sand,
He sees a stream not yet so large

As his slender, childish hand.

Tis a leak in the dike! He is but a boy,
Unused to fearful scenes;

But, young as he is, he has learned to know,
The dreadful thing that means.

A leak in the dike! The stoutest heart
Grows faint that cry to hear,

And the bravest man in all the land
Turns white with mortal fear.

For he knows the smallest leak may grow
To a flood in a single night;

And he knows the strength of the cruel sea When loosed in its angry might.

And the boy! He has seen the danger,
And, shouting a wild alarm,

He forces back the weight of the sea
With the strength of his single arm!
He listened for the joyful sound

Of a footstep passing nigh;

And lays his ear to the ground, to catch
The answer to his cry.

And he hears the rough winds blowing,
And the waters rise and fall,
But never an answer comes to him,

Save the echo of his call.

He sees no hope, no succor,

His feeble voice is lost;

Yet what shall he do but watch and wait, Though he perish at his post!