Capt.—"Sea room, begging your pardon, Miss. I quite forgot you would not understand me."
Gatty now pouted in mortification that her intended laugh at the captain should be construed into ignorance on her part of what he meant, and the colloquy was broken up by the captain being sent for. We crawled on deck, as a matter of duty, panting and exhausted with doing nothing. Though we had bright blue sky above us, and the glittering sea around us, I never shall forget the brazen, hard, heated look that everything appeared to possess. The sky seemed to be gradually turning into brass, the ship looking like brass, we feeling like brass. It was horrible; and it was with no slight pleasure I heard a moaning wind rise slowly in the night, freshening into a gale by morning. Ere twenty-four hours had passed, with bare poles we were driven through the water just as a child's walnut shell might be tossed on a rough ocean. Here, there, and everywhere the sea rose, each wave with a crest to it madly buffeting and fighting with the others, yet each apparently bent on attacking the vessel, freighted with such precious lives. The wind whistled and roared until every other sound was lost. We could hear it gathering in the distance, then collecting, as it were, strength, rage, and speed as it advanced, it poured all its wrath and fury upon what appeared to us, the only victim with which it had to deal. The noble vessel bent, as it were, her graceful head in deprecation of such furious rage and turmoil, and shivering from bow to stern, would again rise lightly and proudly, as if appalled, but yet indignant at the rough usage she was receiving; yet far above the rattling wind the pealing thunder rolled with majestic sound, while the incessant lightning showed us the mad waves in all their forms. From time to time the captain sent us kind messages. We got used to the noise, uproar, and shocks; but, nevertheless, we could perceive the gale increased instead of abating. We bore it well for twelve hours, not a murmur, not a fear was expressed; but, after a shock, so tremendous that the vessel trembled to her inmost timber, a faint shriek was heard from Madame, this was echoed from the deck, it seemed to strike the ship motionless. As our breath returned to us, slowly and labouringly did she rise, heavy and waterlogged; how unlike the buoyant creature she had been a few moments before. Alas! that fatal cry was not without its signification; a sea had struck her, and in sweeping off seven men, had filled the ship with water, and carried away rudder, deck-house, and everything. Then, indeed, fear took possession of our minds. Amidst the roaring of the wind, the earnest and solemn prayers of Madame might be heard, as she sat in the gloom of the cabin, with ashen face and clasped hands, while the wailing sobs of the little girls came mingled with subdued cries from the elder ones. The two boys sat with faces uplifted, and their large eyes distended in fear and awe, as if their wild wishes had caused this awful tempest. The servants, unable to bear their fears alone, were seated in a distant part of the saloon, the wringing hands of the one and the deep groans of the other testifying the anguish and terror of their minds. Unawed by the dreadful turmoil above and the painful scene around her, Schillie alone seemed fearless and unmoved; steadying herself by the cabin door, she stood erect, and, as she looked at each of us, the calm undaunted expression of her countenance seemed to impart to us the courage her words would have given could we have heard them.
The heavy rolling of the ship became each moment more apparent; the timbers creaked and groaned; as if satisfied with the mischief it had done, the wind ceased its wild uproar, and, during the temporary calm that succeeded, we learned the loss of the seven men, hurled at once into eternity, the wreck of all on deck, and the fatal consequences still more likely to ensue from the sea we had shipped. The pumps were manned immediately, and a temporary rudder made from one of the spars. So little did the captain hide our danger from us that he accepted the offer for those that could to help at the pumps; this enabled him to spare two men for the rudder and other work he thought necessary.
Madame remained below with the children, beseeching for that aid which is equally necessary on sea or shore, and Hargrave, being helpless from fear and despair, remained with her. Wrapping ourselves up in warm close garments, we took our places, two at one and two at another pump, to help the men; and we had the exquisite gratification of finding that our labours were successful, for once more La Luna rode lightly on the waters, and our captain, in the broadest Scotch, which he always used when agitated, expressed his heartfelt happiness, while he let out, in broken exclamations of thankfulness, the fear he had entertained that her waterlogged condition might have proceeded from the starting of some of her timbers; and, indeed, the shocks and buffets she had received from the angry waves, with the straining and pitching, made us, inexperienced mariners as were, wonder, more than once, that she was not riven into a thousand pieces. Many were the fond words and endearing epithets bestowed on the brave La Luna by the good captain while he apostrophized her, as if endued with life and consciousness, beseeching her to hold on yet awhile, by all the good angels in heaven, by the mighty powers of the deep, by the love she bore to those within her, by the affection they bore to her, by the value of their lives, by the preciousness of the little innocent children, by the hopes she had given them of her strength and goodness; while he promised her in return every good thing on sea or in sky, fair breezes, bright sun, and ever-flowing sheet, with the devoted love and affection of all on board.
Towards evening, the moaning wind again rose in furious gusts, and we were recalled from the calm into which we had been sunk by the sudden and awful death that had befallen so many of our companions (a feeling only to be felt at sea) to a repetition of all we had undergone before, save in that one instance. In the language of scripture, "we strake sail, and so were driven." The sky was as pitch, the waves furious, the wind awful. Night and day passed without thought or heed. Working at the pumps had done us all good, diverting our minds from the loss we had sustained, and preventing us from dwelling on the perils surrounding us. But now we had nothing to do, and we experienced, in its full force, that heart-sickness consequent upon hope deferred. Hours sped on, yet still the ship was driven like a mad thing through the water. Bruised and sore, from the various falls and shocks we hourly received, hungry and faint from inability to get the food so necessary for our exhausted frames, death seemed our inevitable doom.
CHAPTER VI.
At the end of the seventh day, we were startled by the cry "Land ho! Land, Land." We exclaimed, "we are saved, we are saved!" and, for a moment, there was deep silence, an instructive feeling of gratitude prompted in each breast, young and old, a spontaneous prayer of thanksgiving to the mighty Being in whose hands we were, who was at once our Father and our God. The first powerful impulse obeyed, we had leisure to think of each other. I kissed the little ones, but said nothing. Madame was loud in her rejoicings and thanksgivings, the servants outrageous in their frantic joy, but the dread fear of the past days, the fury of the still existing storm, kept the elder girls yet in a state of subdued feeling. Dashing the tears from her eyes, and assuming an indifferent manner, Schillie said, "Madame, spare your rejoicings until we land; and you howlers," turning to the maids, "keep your noise for a fitting occasion. I imagine," looking at the rest of the party, "our condition is rendered more dangerous by the probability of being driven on shore; when, instead of going to the bottom, like Christians, with whole skins, we shall be dashed to pieces on the rocks, and washed up in little bits."
Felix.—"I hope some of my little bits will get near mama's little bits, and then I shall not care."