She seemed to understand him, for a serene smile beamed on her face, and softly as white rose-leaves fall, the lids drooped over her eyes.
The child was satisfied, and looking up at the captain, said—"Yes, yes, she will have a sweet, long sleep. We will not wake her—I promised, you know. If I forget, and begin to kiss her, don't let me, please, sir, for she always wakes, and smiles, when I do that. How softly the boat rocks! Oh, it will make her well."
The captain turned away his face, for he knew how long that sleep would be.
Slowly and sadly they rowed toward the ship. Fire and massacre raged behind them, but there was safety and solemn stillness on the waters. The boy clung to his mother's garments, and drooped his head wearily. The motion of the boat—the soft stars, smiling down, and scattering their broken images on the waves—affected him peacefully. He longed to fall asleep with his mother; but somehow the idea that she needed his care, kept the lids from sinking entirely over those beautiful eyes.
At last the boat drew close to the sides of the brig. The captain attempted to take the boy in his arms and carry him on board. But the little fellow struggled manfully, and insisted that his mother should be carried up first. Captain Mason, with his imperfect knowledge of French, understood this, for the child's face was more eloquent than words; but the men only comprehended his gestures, and interposed their superstitions against his generous wishes.
"No," they protested, with sullen determination, "the woman is dead—what have we to do with a corpse on board the brig? Ain't the signs agin her bad enough, without that one? Hoist the youngster aboard, captain, and let us row the boat over to White's Island, and bury the poor critter there!"
The child turned upon the sailors and searched their faces eagerly, as if he guessed that they were planning something against him. The men dropped their gloomy eyes beneath his glances, but were not the less resolved.
Captain Mason knew the superstition of his men too well for any idea of opposing it while his ship lay in that dangerous neighborhood. He cast one pitying look on the beautiful young woman who lay at his feet, in her calm, eternal slumber, then tenderly addressed the boy: "Your mother is asleep, let her stay here," he said, in very confused French. But the attention of the boy was keenly directed; he understood clearly, and sat down, folding his little arms with a pleading smile.
"Me too?" he said.
"No, my child, you shall go on deck and wait while the boat rocks here. All shall go, and leave your mother to sleep alone."