When he had convoyed Judith safely to the other side of the chasm they all three resumed their walk. Several of these chasms they crossed in the same manner. And finally they reached the ship, which remained in the state in which Justin had left it.
Mr. Rosenthal handed Miss Conyers on deck, and then helped Judith up beside her.
Britomarte looked around with sorrowful reminiscences of that dire calamity which had separated her from all her late companions.
“I never expected to tread these planks again! It seems strange to be here! It seems almost wrong to be here! as if we had no right to be alive, now that all our fellow-voyagers are lost! I cannot rejoice in being saved, remembering their destruction!” she murmured, sadly.
“We do not know that they have been destroyed. I think it highly probable that the boat which first left the ship’s side—the boat containing the missionary party—was saved,” said Justin, with the purpose of consoling her.
“Why do you think so?”
“Because it was the most seaworthy boat of the two, and it was manned by a more knowing crew, and finally, because they had sense enough to sail for the open sea instead of making for that fatal rock-bound coast upon which your boat was wrecked.”
“Oh, Heaven grant they may have been saved!” fervently exclaimed Britomarte.
“Oh, the poor ould ship! Oh, me poor ould daddy! Oh, me darlint Fore Top Tom! Are yez all lost intirely? Drowned in the dape say? Oh, me fine ship! Oh, me good daddy! Oh, me gay Tom! Ow-oo! Ow-oo! Ow-oo!” cried Judith, sitting down upon the deck, flinging her apron over her head, rocking herself to and fro, and howling dismally.
And as she was howling, not only from an acute feeling of grief, but also from a profound sense of propriety, there was not the least use of any one’s attempting to console her.