green, and Anethe would see the first flowers in this
strange country, so far from her home where she
had left father and mother, kith and kin, for love of
Ivan. The delicious days of summer at hand would
transform the work of the toiling fishermen to
pleasure, and all things would bloom and smile
about the poor people on the lonely rock ! Alas, it
was not to be.

At ten o'clock they went to bed. It was cold and
" lonesome" up-stairs, so Maren put some chairs
by the side of the lounge, laid a mattress upon it,
and made up a bed for Karen in the kitchen, where
she presently fell asleep. Maren and Anethe slept



146 A MEMORABLE MURDER.

in the next room. So safe they felt themselves,
they did not pull down a curtain, nor even try to
fasten the house-door. They went to their rest in
absolute security and perfect trust. It was the first
still night of the new year ; a young moon stole
softly down toward thewest,a gentle wind breathed
through the quiet dark, and the waves whispered
gently about the island, helping to lull those in-
nocent souls to yet more peaceful slumber. Ah,
where were the gales of March that might have
plowed that tranquil sea to foam, and cut off the
fatal path of Louis Wagner to that happy home!
But nature seemed to pause and wait for him. I re-
member looking abroad over the waves that night
and rejoicing over " the first calm night of the year !"
It was so still, so bright ! The hope of all the light
and beauty a few weeks would bring forth stirred
me to sudden joy. There should be spring again
after the long winter-weariness.

" Can trouble live in April days,
Or sadness in the summer moons ?"

I thought, as I watched the clear sky, grown less
hard than it had been for weeks, and sparkling with
stars. But before another sunset it seemed to me
that beauty had fled out of the world, and that good-
ness, innocence, mercy, gentleness, were a mere
mockery of empty words.

Here let us leave the poor women, asleep on the
lonely rock, with no help near them in heaven or
upon earth, and follow the fishermen to Portsmouth,



A MEMORABLE MURDER. 147

where they arrived about four o'clock that after-
noon. One of the first men whom they saw as they
neared the town was Louis Wagner; to him they
threw the rope from the schooner, and he helped
draw her in to the wharf. Greetings passed between
them ; he spoke to Mathew Hontvet, and as he look-
ed at Ivan Christensen, the men noticed a flush pass
over Louis's face. He asked were they going out
again that night ? Three times before they parted
he asked that question ; he saw that all the three
men belonging to the island had come away to-
gether ; he began to realize his opportunity. They
answered him that if their bait came by the train
in which they expected it, they hoped to g-et back
that night, but if it was late they should be obliged
to stay till morning, baiting their trawls ; and they
asked him to come and help them. It is a long
and tedious business, the baiting of trawls; often
more than a thousand hooks are to be manipulated,
and lines and hooks coiled, clear of tangles, into
tubs, all ready for throwing overboard when the
fishing-grounds are reached. Louis gave them a
half promise that he would help them, but they did
not see him again after leaving the wharf. The three
fishermen were hungry, not having touched at their
island, where Maren always provided them with a
supply of food to take with them ; they asked each
other if either had brought any money with which
to buy bread, and it came out that every one had
left his pocket-book at home. Louis, standing by,
heard all this. He asked John, then, if he had



148 A MEMORABLE MURDER.

made fishing pay. John answered that he had
cleared about six hundred dollars.

The men parted, the honest three about their
business; but Louis, what became of him with his
evil thoughts ? At about half-past seven he went
into a liquor shop and had a glass of something ;
not enough to make him unsteady, he was too
wise for that. He was not seen again in Ports-
mouth by any human creature that night. He must
have gone, after that, directly down to the river,
that beautiful, broad river, the Piscataqua, upon
whose southern bank the quaint old city of Ports-
mouth dreams its quiet days away ; and there he
found a boat ready to his hand, a dory belonging to
a man by the name of David Burke, who had that
day furnished it with new thole-pins. When it was
picked up afterward off the mouth of the river,
Louis's anxious oars had eaten half-way through
the substance of these pins, which are always made
of the hardest, toughest wood that can be found. A
terrible piece of rowing must that have been, in one
night ! Twelve miles from the city to the Shoals,
three to the light-houses, where the river meets the
open sea, nine more to the islands; nine back again
to Newcastle next morning ! He took that boat,
and with the favoring tide dropped down the rapid
river where the swift current is so strong that oars
are scarcely needed, except to keep the boat
steady. Truly all nature seemed to play into his
hands ; this first relenting night of earliest spring
favored him with its stillness, the tide was fair,



A MEMORABLE MURDER. 149

the wind was fair, the little moon gave him just
enough light, without betraying him to any curious
eyes, as he glided down the three miles between the
river banks, in haste to reach the sea. Doubtless
the light west wind played about him as delicately
as if he had been the most human of God's creat-
ures; nothing breathed remonstrance in his ear,
nothing whispered in the whispering water that
rippled about his inexorable keel, steering
straight for the Shoals through the quiet dark-
ness. The snow lay thick and white upon the land
in the moonlight ; lamps twinkled here and there
from dwellings on either side ; in Eliot and New-
castle, in Portsmouth and Kittery, roofs, chimneys,
and gables showed faintly in the vague light ; the
leafless trees clustered dark in hollows or lifted
their tracery of bare boughs in higher spaces
against the wintry sky. His eyes must have looked
on it all, whether he saw the peaceful picture or not.
Beneath many a humble roof honest folk were
settling into their untroubled rest, as " this planned
piece of deliberate wickedness " was stealing silent-
ly by with his heart full of darkness, blacker than
the black tide that swirled beneath his boat and
bore him fiercely on. At the river's mouth stood
the sentinel light-houses, sending their great spokes
of light afar into the night, like the arms of a wide
humanity stretching into the darkness helping hands
to bring all who needed succor safely home. He
passed them, first the tower at Fort Point, then the
taller one at Whale's Back, steadfastly holding



150 A MEMORABLE MURDER.

aloft their warning fires. There was no signal from
the warning bell as he rowed by, though a danger
more subtle, more deadly, than fog, or hurricane,
or pelting storm was passing swift beneath it. Un-
challenged by anything in earth or heaven, he kept
on his way and gained the great outer ocean, doubt-
less pulling strong and steadily, for he had no time
to lose, and the longest night was all too short for
an undertaking such as this. Nine miles from the
light-houses to the islands ! Slowly he makes his
way ; it seems to take an eternity of time. And now
he is midway between the islands and the coast.
That little toy of a boat with its one occupant in
the midst of the awful, black, heaving sea ! The
vast dim ocean whispers with a thousand waves ;
against the boat' s side the ripples lightly tap, and
pass and are lost ; the air is full of fine, mysterious
voices of winds and waters. Has he no fear, alone
there on the midnight sea with such a purpose in
his heart ? The moonlight sends a long, golden
track across the waves ; it touches his dark face
and figure, it glitters on his dripping oars. On his
right hand Boone Island light shows like a setting
star on the horizon, low on his left the two beacons
twinkle off Newburyport, at the mouth of the Mer-
rimack River; all the light-houses stand watching
along the coast, wheeling their long, slender shafts
of radiance as if pointing at this black atom creeping
over the face of the planet with such colossal evil in
his heart. Before him glitters the Shoals' light at
White Island, and helps to guide him to his prey.



A MEMORABLE MURDER. 151

Alas, my friendly light-house, that you should serve
so terrible a purpose ! Steadily the oars click in the
rowlocks ; stroke after stroke of the broad blades
draws him away from the lessening line of land,
over the wavering floor of the ocean, nearer the
lonely rocks. Slowly the coast-lights fade, and
now the rote of the sea among the lonely ledges of
the Shoals salutes his attentive ear. A little longer
and he nears Appledore, the first island, and now
he passes by the snow-covered, ice-bound rock,
with the long buildings showing clear in the moon-
light. He must have looked at them as he went
past. I wonder we who slept beneath the roofs
that glimmered to his eyes in the uncertain light
did not feel, through the thick veil of sleep, what
fearful thing passed by ! But we slumbered peace-
fully as the unhappy woman whose doom every
click of those oars in the rowlocks, like the ticking
of some dreadful clock, was bringing nearer and
nearer. Between the islands he passes ; they are
full of chilly gleams and glooms. There is no
scene more weird than these snow-covered rocks in
winter, more shudderful and strange : the moon-
light touching them with mystic glimmer, the
black water breaking about them, and the vast shad-
owy spaces of the sea stretching to the horizon on
every side, full of vague sounds, of half lights and
shadows, of fear, and of mystery. The island he
seeks lies before him, lone and still ; there is no
gleam in any window, there is no help near, noth-
ing upon which the women can call for succor. He



152 A MEMORABLE MURDER.

does not land in the cove where all boats put in ;
he rows round to the south side and draws his
boat up on the rocks. His red returning footsteps
are found here next day, staining the snow. He
makes his way to the house he knows so well.

All is silent : nothing moves, nothing sounds but
the hushed voices of the sea. His hand is on the
latch, he enters stealthily, there is nothing to resist
him. The little dog, Ringe, begins to bark sharp
and loud, and Karen rouses, crying, "John, is that
you?" thinking the expected fishermen had return-
ed. Louis seizes a chair and strikes at her in the
dark; the clock on a shelf above her head falls
down with the jarring of the blow, and stops at ex-
actly seven minutes to one. Maren, in the next
room, waked suddenly from her sound sleep, trying
in vain to make out the meaning of it all, cries,
"What's the matter?" Karen answers, "John
scared me! " Maren springs from her bed and tries
to open her chamber door; Louis has fastened it
on the other side by pushing a stick through over
the latch. With her heart leaping with terror the
poor child shakes the door with all her might, in
vain. Utterly confounded and bewildered, she
hears Karen screaming, "John kills me! John
kills me !" She hears the sound of repeated
blows and shrieks, till at last her sister falls heav-
ily against the door, which gives way, and Ma-
ren rushes out. She catches dimly a glimpse of
a tall figure outlined against the southern window ;
she seizes poor Karen and drags her with the



A MEMORABLE MURDER. 153

strength of frenzy within the bedroom. This un-
known terror, this fierce, dumb monster who never
utters a sound to betray himself through the whole,
pursues her with blows, strikes her three times
with a chair, either blow with fury sufficient to kill
her, had it been light enough for him to see how to
direct it ; but she gets her sister inside and the door
shut, and holds it against him with all her might
and Karen's failing strength. What a little heroine
was this poor child, struggling with the force of
desperation to save herself and her sisters !

All this time Anethe lay dumb, not daring to
move or breathe, roused from the deep sleep of
youth and health by this nameless, formless terror.
Maren, while she strives to hold the door at which
Louis rattles again and again, calls to her in an-
guish, " Anethe, Anethe ! Get out of the window !
run! hide!" The poor girl, almost paralyzed with
fear, tries to obey, puts her bare feet out of the low
window, and stands outside in the freezing snow,
with one light garment over her cowering figure,
shrinking in the cold winter wind, the clear moon-
light touching her white face and bright hair and
fair young shoulders. " Scream ! scream !" shouts
frantic Maren. " Somebody at Star Island may
hear!" but Anethe answers with the calmness of
despair, " I cannot make a sound." Maren screams
herself, but the feeble sound avails nothing. " Run !
run!" she cries to Anethe; but again Anethe an-
swers, "I cannot move."

Louis has left off trying to force the door ; he



154 A MEMORABLE MURDER.

listens. Are the women trying to escape ? He goes
out-of-doors. Maren flies to the window ; he comes
round the corner of the house and confronts Anethe
where she stands in the snow. The moonlight shines
full in his face ; she shrieks loudly and distinctly,
"Louis, Louis!"

Ah, he is discovered, he is recognized ! Quick
as thought he goes back to the front door, at the
side of which stands an ax, left there by Maren,
who had used it the day before to cut the ice
from the well. He returns to Anethe standing
shuddering there. It is no matter that she is
beautiful, young, and helpless to resist, that she
has been kind to him, that she -never did a human
creature harm, that she stretches her gentle hands
out to him in agonized entreaty, crying piteously,
"Oh, Louis, Louis, Louis!" He raises the ax and
brings it down on her bright head in one tremen-
dous blow, and she sinks without a sound and lies
in a heap, with her warm blood reddening the snow.
Then he deals her blow after blow, almost within
reach of Maren's hands, as she stands at the window.
Distracted, Maren strives to rouse poor Karen, who
kneels with her head on the side of the bed ; with
desperate entreaty she tries to get her up and away,
but Karen moans, " I cannot, I cannot." She is too
far gone; and then Maren knows she cannot save
her, and that she must flee herself or die. So, while
Louis again enters the house, she seizes a skirt and
wraps round her shoulders, and makes her way out
of the open window, over Anethe's murdered body,



A MEMORABLE MURDER. 155

barefooted, flying away, anywhere, breathless, shak-
ing with terror.

Where can she go ? Her little dog, frightened
into silence, follows her, pressing so close to her
feet that she falls over him more than once. Look-
ing back she sees Louis has lit a lamp and is seeking
for her. She flies to the cove ; if she can but find
his boat and row away in it and get help ! It is not
there ; there is no boat in which she can get away.
She hears Karen's wild screams, he is killing her !
Oh, where can she go ? Is there any place on that
'.ittle island where he will not find her? She thinks
she will creep into one of the empty old houses by
the water; but no, she reflects, if I hide there, Ringe
will bark and betray me the moment Louis comes
to look for me. And Ringe saved her life, for next
day Louis's bloody tracks were found all about those
old buildings where he had sought her. She flies,
with Karen's awful cries in her ears, away over
rocks and snow to the farthest limit she can gain.
The moon has set ; it is about two o'clock in the
morning, and oh, so cold ! She shivers and shud-
ders from head to feet, but her agony of terror is
so great she is hardly conscious of bodily sensation.
And welcome is the freezing snow, the jagged ice
and iron rocks that tear her unprotected feet, the
bitter brine that beats against the shore, the winter
winds that make her shrink and tremble ; "they
are not so unkind as man's ingratitude!" Falling
often, rising, struggling on with feverisli haste, she
makes her way to the very edge of the water ; down



156 A MEMORABLE MURDER.

almost into the sea she creeps, between two rocks,
upon her hands and knees, and crouches, face
downward, with Ringe nestled close beneath her
breast, not daring to move through the long hours
that must pass before the sun will rise again. She
is so near the ocean she can almost reach the water
with her hand. Had the wind breathed the least
roughly the waves must have washed over her.
There let us leave her and go back to Louis Wag-
ner. Maren heard her sister Karen's shrieks as she
fled. The poor girl had crept into an unoccupied
room in a distant part of the house, striving to hide
herself. He could not kill her with blows, blunder-
ing in the darkness, so he wound a handkerchief
about her throat and strangled her. But now he
seeks anxiously for Maren. Has she escaped?
What terror is in the thought ! Escaped, to tell the
tale, to accuse him as the murderer of her sisters.
Hurriedly, with desperate anxiety, he seeks for her.
His time was growing short; it was not in his pro-
gramme that this brave little creature should give
him so much trouble ; he had not calculated on
resistance from these weak and helpless women.
Already it was morning, soon it would be daylight.
He could not find her in or near the house; he went
down to the empty and dilapidated houses about
the cove, and sought her everywhere. What a pict-
ure ! That blood-stained butcher, with his dark
face, crawling about those cellars, peering for that
woman ! He dared not spend any more time ; he
must go back for the money he hoped to find, his



A MEMORABLE MURDER. 157

reward for this ! All about the house he searches,
in bureau drawers, in trunks and boxes : Tie finds
fifteen dollars for his night's work! Several hun-
dreds were lying between some sheets folded at the
bottom of a drawer in which he looked. But he
cannot stop for more thorough investigation ; a
dreadful haste pursues him like a thousand fiends.
He drags Anethe's stiffening body into the house,
and leaves it on the kitchen floor. If the thought
crosses his mind to set fire to the house and burn
up his two victims, he dares not do it : it will make
a fatal bonfire to light his homeward way; besides,
it is useless, for Maren has escaped to accuse him,
and the time presses so horribly !

But how cool a monster is he ! After all this
hard work he must have refreshment, to support
him in the long row back to the land ; knife
and fork, cup and plate, were found next morn-
ing on the table near where Anethe lay ; frag-
ments of food which was not cooked in the
house, but brought from Portsmouth, were scat-
tered about. Tidy Maren had left neither dishes
nor food when they went to bed. The handle of the
tea-pot which she had left on the stove was stained
and smeared with blood. Can the human mind
conceive of such hideous nonchalance? Wagner sat
down in that room and ate and drank ! It is almost
beyond belief ! Then he went to the well with a
basin and towels, tried to wash off the blood, and
left towels and basin in the well. He knows he
must be gone! It is certain death to linger. He



158 A MEMORABLE MURDER.

takes his boat and rows away toward the dark coast
and the twinkling lights ; it is for dear life, now !
What powerful strokes send the small skiff rushing
over the water !

There is no longer any moon, the night is far
spent ; already the east changes, the stars fade ; he
rows like a madman to reach the land, but a blush
of morning is stealing up the sky, and sunrise is
rosy over shore and sea, when panting, trembling,
weary, a creature accursed, a blot on the face of the
day, he lands at Newcastle too late! Too late!
In vain he casts the dory adrift ; she will not float
away ; the flood tide bears her back to give her
testimony against him, and afterward she is found
at Jaffrey's Point, near the " Devil's Den," and the
fact of her worn thole-pins noted. Wet, covered with
ice from the spray which has flown from his eager
oars, utterly exhausted, he creeps to a knoll and
reconnoitres ; he thinks he is unobserved, and crawls
on towards Portsmouth. But he is seen and recog-
nized by many persons, and his identity established
beyond a doubt. He goes to the house of Mathew
Jonsen, where he has been living, steals up-stairs,
changes his clothes, and appears before the family,
anxious, frightened, agitated, telling Jonsen he
never felt so badly in his life; that he has got into
trouble and is afraid he shall be taken. He cannot
eat at breakfast, says "farewell forever," goes away
and is shaved, and takes the train to Boston, where
he provides himself with new clothes, shoes, a
complete outfit, but lingering, held by fate, he



A MEMORABLE MURDER, 159

cannot fly, and before night the officer's hand is on
his shoulder and he is arrested.

Meanwhile poor shuddering Maren on the lonely
island, by the water-side, waits till the sun is high
in heaven before she dares to come forth. She
thinks he may be still on the island. She said to
me, " I thought he must be there, dead or alive. I
thought he might go crazy and kill himself after
having done all that." At last she steals out. The
little dog frisks before her; it is so cold her feet
cling to the rocks and snow at every step, till the
skin is fairly torn off. Still and frosty is the bright
morning, the water lies smiling and sparkling, the
hammers of the workmen building the new hotel on
Star Island sound through the quiet air. Being on
the side of Smutty-Nose opposite Star, she waves
her skirt, and screams to attract their attention ;
they hear her, turn and look, see a woman waving
a signal of distress, and, surprising to relate, turn
tranquilly to their work again. She realizes at last
there is no hope in that direction ; she must go
round toward Appledore in sight of the dreadful
house. Passing it afar off she gives one swift glance
toward it, terrified lest in the broad sunshine she
may see some horrid token of last night's work;
but all is still and peaceful. She notices the cur-
tains the three had left up when they went to bed ;
they are now drawn down ; she knows whose hand
has done this, and what it hides from the light of day.
Sick at heart, she makes her painful way to the
northern edge of Malaga, which is connected with



160 A MEMORABLE MURDER.

Smutty-Nose by the old sea-wall. She is directly
opposite Appledore and the little cottage where
abide her friend and countryman, Jorge Edvardt
Ingebertsen, and his wife and children. Only a
quarter of a mile of the still ocean separates her
from safety and comfort. She sees the children
playing about the door ; she calls and calls. Will
no one ever hear her? Her torn feet torment her,
she is sore with blows and perishing with cold. At
last her voice reaches the ears of the children, who
run and tell their father that some one is crying
and calling ; looking across, he sees the poor little
figure waving her arms, takes his dory and paddles
over, and with amazement recognizes Maren in her
night-dress, with bare feet and streaming hair, with
a cruel bruise upon her face, with wild eyes, dis-
tracted, half senseless with cold and terror. He
cries, " Maren, Maren, who has done this? what is
it? who is it?" and her only answer is " Louis,
Louis, Louis !" as he takes her on board his boat
and rows home with her as fast as he can. From
her incoherent statement he learns what has hap-
pened. Leaving her in the care of his family, he
comes over across the hill to the great house on
Appledore. As I sit at my desk I see him pass the
window, and wonder why the old man comes so
fast and anxiously through the heavy snow.

Presently I see him going back again, accom-
panied by several of his own countrymen and others
of our workmen, carrying guns. They are going
to Smutty-Nose, and take arms, thinking it possible



A MEMORABLE MURDER. 161

Wagner may yet be there. I call down- stairs,
"What has happened?" and am answered, " Some
trouble at Smutty-Nose; we hardly understand."
" Probably a drunken brawl of the reckless fisher-
men who may have landed there," I say to myself,
and go on with my work. In another half-hour I
see the men returning, reinforced by others, com-
ing fast, confusedly ; and suddenly a wail of anguish
comes up from the women below. I cannot be-
lieve it when I hear them crying, " Karen is dead !
Anethe is dead ! Louis Wagner has murdered