Winner Stories

Next Winner (45) | Previous Winner (43)

He was once more his strongest self.
The rudder had been left on the beach, and it was only possible to
steer by the oars. He dismissed even the thought of Erica, and
concentrated his whole being on the difficult task before him. So
grand did he look in that tremendous endeavor that Erica almost
forgot her anxiety; there was something so forceful in his whole
aspect that she could not be afraid. Her heart beat quickly
indeed, but the consciousness of danger was stimulating.
Yet the waves grew more and more furious, rolling, curling, dashing
up in angry, white foam raging horribly. At length came one
which broke right over the little boat, blinding and drenching its
occupants.
Another like that will do for us, Said Raeburn, in a quiet voice.
The boat was half full of water. Erica began to bale out with her
father's hat, and each knew from the other's face that their plight
was hopeless.
Raeburn had faced death many times. He had faced it more than once
on a sick bed, he had faced it surrounded by yelling and furious
mobs, but he had never faced it side by side with his child. Again
he looked at the angry graygreen waves, at the wreaths of curling
white foam, again that awful vision rose before him, and, brave man
as he was, he shuddered.
Life was sweet even though he was harassed, persecuted, libeled.
Life was sweet even though his child had deserted his cause, even
though she had cheated herself into a belief. Life was
infinitely worth living, mere existence an exquisite joy, blank
nothingness a hideous alternative.
Bale out! he cried, despair in his eyes, but a curve of
resoluteness about his lips.
A few more strokes warily pulled, another huge wave sweeping along,
rearing itself up, dashing down upon them. The boat reeled and
staggered. To struggle longer was useless. Raeburn threw his oars
inboard, caught hold of Erica, and held her fast. When they could
see once more, they found the boat quite three parts full.
Child! he said, child! But nothing more would come. For once
in his life words failed him; the orator was speechless. Was it a
minute or an eternity that he waited there through that awful pause
waited with his arm round Erica, feeling the beating of her heart,
the heart which must soon cease beating forever, feeling her warm
breath on his cheek alas! How few more breaths would she draw!
How soon would the cold water grave close over all that he
His thoughts were abruptly checked. That eternal minute of waiting
was over. It was coming death was coming riding along with mocking
scorn on the crest of a giant wave. Higher and higher rose the

Next Winner (45) | Previous Winner (43)

Winner Index