“Till the Sea Gives up its Dead.”
From Madeira, where we stayed for many days, going on shore every forenoon to sell some of our cargo to the shopkeepers, and every afternoon for a long ride—horse and hammock—over some part or other of this island of enchantment, sometimes finishing up with a dance—from all this pleasure and delight, I say, we sailed away at last.
“South and away we sailed, and in due time we reached and anchored off Saint James’s Town, Saint Helena.
“Now, Saint Helena had not figured in our programme when we left Merry England. But here we were, and a most delightful place I found it. Hills and dells, mountains and glens; wild flowers everywhere; and the blue eternal sea dotted with many a snow-white sail, engirdling all. This, then, was the ‘lonely sterile rock in the midst of the wild tempestuous ocean,’ to which Napoleon had been banished.
“James had been here before, although I had not, so everything was of interest to me, and everything new. And my good mate determined to make it as pleasant for me as possible. He seemed to know every one, and every one appeared delighted to see him. Such remarks as the following fell upon our ears at every corner:—
“‘Well, you’ve got back again, James?’
“‘What! here you are once more, James, and welcome.’
“‘Dee—lighted to see you, certain—lee!’
“‘Ah! Jeames,’—this from a very aged crone, who was seated on a stone dais near her door, basking in the warm, white sunshine—‘ah! Jeames, and sure the Lord is good to me. And my old eyes are blessed once more wi’ a sight o’ your kindly face!’
“‘Glad to see you alive, Frilda. And look, I have got a pound of tea for you. And I’ll come to-night and read a bit out of my mother’s Good Book to you.’