The question was never answered, for the attention of my interlocutor was riveted now, as was my own, on the companion-way, from which a wild and frightened-looking crowd was densely emerging, with a confused hum of voices that announced their recognition of their impending danger. The change of age, of pain, of woe, seemed sealed upon each aspect, as one by one, and phantom-like, in rapid succession, those who had so lately gone down to feast returned to the upper day, like grim ghosts coming from a church-yard carnival.
It was a sight to stir the stoutest spirit.
At the close of the repast, the captain had announced the truth to his passengers, and followed them now to enjoin them to firmness and efficiency, both so greatly needed at this crisis.
Mounted on the capstan, he addressed them briefly, and not without influence. Such was the power of his simple and manly bearing over these distracted souls, that even the wildest listened with decorum.
This was no immigrant-ship, loaded with stolid or desperate men, insensible of high teachings, and alone desirous of personal safety. Yet the universal instinct asserted itself, and for the time courtesies were set aside, and family affections were all that were regarded.
Miss Lamarque, pale, yet collected, now stood surrounded by the children of her brother, leaning upon his arm while the captain spoke. Husbands and wives were together, sisters and brothers, servants and their masters—each group revealed its several household affinities. We only were alone—the dreary little widow, whose name I never knew, and Miriam Monfort; and on natural principles we clung together.
It is true that Miss Lamarque, by many signs, implored me to come to her, but I would not. It was like intruding on a bed of death, I felt, to break through ties of blood at such a time, by thrusting a foreign presence amid devoted relatives; and I was too proud, or perhaps too selfish, to intrude where I must be secondary, unless I took away another's rights.
The captain had promised, in his brief address, to protect his passengers to the utmost of his power—leaving the result with God. He had entreated them to be calm, and to preserve order—so essential to safety; had mentioned his confidence that a ship must pass before the catastrophe could possibly occur; but added that, to prepare for the worst, he had ordered the construction of two rafts—one for the use of the seamen, the other for the reception of food and necessaries.
His plan was to attach these to the larger boats, and so provide against want; in the certainty, however, that on such a route relief must soon present itself, in the shape of ship or steamer.
He called on all able to abet his exertions to present themselves forthwith, so that universal safety might be insured; not only by making the rafts, but the securing of food upon them, and comforts for the women and children, who represented so large a portion of the passengers. He answered for the fidelity of his seamen with his life. There was not one among them, he knew, who would lift a finger to disobey him. He said these words in conclusion: