But he waved his hand to Mike to take charge of her, and turned away, white as death.
And it was an insensible form that Mike Mullony laid gently in the lap of Judith Riordan, who, with his own wife, Biddy, were the only other women in that boat; Mrs. Ely and Mrs. Breton being in the other one.
While Britomarte lay still in that swoon, the boat was put off from the side of the ship. There were on board of her, besides the crew and the women, the ship’s doctor and the supercargo. And oh! in the midst of all their selfish anxiety for the preservation of their own lives, and their natural sorrow for their companions left behind to perish, what grief they also felt in abandoning the brave ship that had so gallantly borne them through such a waste of waters; the good ship that had so safely brought them through such tremendous storms, and that had only succumbed at last to the overwhelming power of winds and waves! Aye, they grieved remorsefully for her, as for a human being, deserted at her utmost need, and left alone to die.
When Britomarte recovered from the deep, deathlike swoon that had held her life in abeyance, the boat was some distance from the ship. Her senses and memory returned instantly with her consciousness. Her first thought was of her lover—her first act to raise herself on her elbow, and with her eyes to sweep the horizon in search of the abandoned wreck.
Yes, there it was yet—distant and dimly seen—but certainly there, with the bows under water, and the stern wedged up in the crevice of the sunken rocks, and the sea breaking over it as before; while all above were dark and driving clouds, and all below foaming and heaving waves. The boat made very little headway over this heavy sea. Britomarte never took her eyes from the wreck. As she gazed on all that remained of the good ship, the sun suddenly burst through a black cloud; and some shining object on the stranded stern caught the rays and lighted up the wreck, like a star of hope.
“Save him! oh, God of Mercy, save him!” was the perpetual, though unuttered cry of her heart.
“Spake to me, ma’am! Look at me!” said Judith Riordan, coaxingly. “Don’t be setting your eyes out on sticks, and twisting your head around like Lot’s wife, looking after that wreck. God save the craytures that were left behind, for we could do nothing for thim! Sure this boat wouldn’t howld another sowl! And the other boats were as heavy laden, and they left the ship first. And Lord knows what’s become of them, for I don’t see one of them! though troth, this fog to the landward swallows up every object, so it does. Ah, well, thin, sure I have been praying for the poor sinners left on the wreck, and saying the litany of the ‘Star of the Say’ ever since we left thim there! And I’ll aven go at it again.”
And Judith opened her little book and went at it again, muttering her litanies in a half audible voice.
Miss Conyers paid no sort of attention to her. She also was breathing earnest prayers for the salvation of one left to perish, while she strained her eyes for a sight of the wreck that was often hidden from her view by the rising of some great wave that threatened to carry it down, and as often loomed again through fog and spray to assure her of its continued existence.
“Oh! if it can but hold together for a few days, some ship may pass and take him off! Oh, if this dreadful sea would but subside! Oh, God have mercy on me and save him!”