“We therefore commit her body to the deep, looking for the resurrection of the body when the sea shall give up her dead.”
NINA BURIED AT SEA.
Four quartermasters, with bared heads, at that moment seized the corpse, and, placing it on an inclined plank, allowed it to gently glide downward into the dark waters. The waves opened for an instant, with a low, hissing sound, and then closed again over all that remained of the once beautiful and admired Nina. Frederick shuddered, as if overcome by a great terror, and an expression of horror swept over his livid features. Making his way through the group of mourners, he rapidly walked forward to the very bows of the vessel, and for three long hours he remained there motionless, leaning against the bulwark, peering into the gathering darkness, and apparently heedless of the terrible storm which was coming on.
The tempest, which had announced itself by an alarming fall of the barometer, burst forth shortly after ten o'clock that night in all its intensity. It seemed as if the very elements were raising their voices in protest against the great crime which had been committed. For a time the wind was so powerful that the ship could make no headway, and the very waves were beaten down by its terrific force. The air for a depth of about fifteen feet above the surface of the water was covered with a dense kind of mist, formed of pulverized spray. It was impossible to stand on deck without being tied.
On the following day the wind lulled slightly, and then the waves, as if released from the pressure which had kept them down, burst upon the vessel in all their mad fury. Seas mountain high swept the deck from stem to stern, carrying almost all before them. The boats were torn from their davits and shattered to pieces. The smoking-room, pilot-house, and captain's cabin were severely damaged, and the paddle-boxes splintered to match-wood, leaving the huge wheels exposed to view.
In the midst of all this turmoil, Frederick was below in the saloon, half-stretched on a divan, making an attempt to read. Suddenly a terrific lurch sent everything flying to starboard, and the young man, without touching the table in front of him, was hurled clean over it through the air to the other side of the cabin, where his head came in violent contact with the heavy brass lock of the door.
For a moment it was thought that he was dead. Some artery had been cut, and a torrent of blood deluged his face and clothes. As soon as his fellow-passengers were able to regain their feet, they carried him off to the surgeon's quarters, where some minutes elapsed before he could be restored to his senses.
Marvelous to relate, it was found that he had sustained no injury beyond a deep and jagged cut extending over the top of the head. This was carefully sewed up, and with the exception of severe headaches during the next few weeks, accompanied by slight fever, Frederick suffered no ill effects from his accident.